#how am I supposed to even get chosen for the sale at this point

[brandnewdress]

7 million people registered for a chance to buy tickets in the UK??????????????

[sothischickshe]

I am fascinated by your Bruby take. Have you written supporting posts for this ship and Beth’s love for Ruby already? I would love to read more detail on your view of their relationship. To me, I see Beth’s possessiveness over Ruby. She demands to be chosen, even to Ruby’s detriment. It seems like a really disproportionate relationship to me, where Ruby is expected to drop her life to support Beth. Endlessly. And on occasion Beth rewards Ruby by benevolently offering her something in return.

I want to see them how you see them.

Hey, so zerothly it's deffo not just my take; I'm gonna link to some other ppl's posts & ig haphazardly try to quote some others I can't search up (joke's on me for ever wanting to find anything on mobile I suppose🤯)

Zero point fively, the ship name is deffo buby cmon, im taking a hard line on that 🤪

So first argument in terms of shipping Beth/Ruby and/or deciding Beth is in love with ruby: why not! I just think it's fun! And it adds a lot of potential depth to many of the relationships in the show eg the brio mess, the Beth-stan conflict, the death death, the beth/rhea quasi-romance.... Plus there's really nothing I see in canon that negates it 🤷🏼‍♀️

I think this post by @nakedmonkey sums the vibe up more succinctly than I ever could!

I'd also highly rec these fics:

Almost by vibrantnymph (Ruby pov in a slightly divergent 208)

girls go to the bathroom together to kiss by makemeanybraver (aged down au, Beth pov)

(there are a few other fics tagged beth/Ruby on Ao3 too but they're also tagged beth/annie and um I assume they don't mean it)

I swear @pynkhues had some posts about Beth/Ruby and maybe kisses too but I can't find them 😭😭😭

I also super agree with the vibe of this post from @petesdragon. Particularly cos in really all the flashbacks I think Dean and boys in general are presented as life moments to achieve and tick off. Combined with ruby basically telling annie that Beth married Dean for security, I hear the comp het take ringing loudly!

Off the top of my head I'd say the biggest canon points for me are:

That I've never looked at Dean the way you look at stan line being followed by Beth's srs lingering looks at Ruby, then a bunch of loving stares & delighted giggling with the tesla stuff (I do think we're repeatedly told by the show that Beth is not in love with Dean, that Ruby is in love with stan & that Beth has some srs martyr vibes/is v willing to sacrifice herself for the ppl she cares abt)

That I would choose you every time line and really 208 in general (& actually also successful salesperson s2 Beth being willing to give up a hypothetical jayz concert to stan; basically all sales ppl are annoying jayz stans who will say insane things like 'actually if you think about it, it's impressive to get away with that many shit guest verses' right to your face)

The s2 finale callback with the actual Beyoncé tickets where Beth tells Ruby to take stan, and goes to turn herself in which IS to protect the hills (think this understandably gets buried under the rest of the finale & its silliness)

The s4 beth-stan conflict as a whole where they're essentially presented as romantic rivals squabbling for the right to Ruby's affection; beth looking distraught when she agrees to never seeing Ruby again #martyrvibes

I guess I maybe agree that Beth is possessive over Ruby, but I'd say that so is stan then? & I'm given literally no reason to think stan isn't entirely in love with ruby yet in s4 he sics the cops on her, joins in with dean's scheming against Beth thus inadvertently yet predictably throwing Ruby under the bus & ends up threatening to go on the run without Ruby in the finale. I don't think I buy that possessiveness, making demands or an idiotic approach to planning precludes Beth from being in love with ruby 🤷🏼‍♀️ (though it perhaps suggest Ruby has a type sfggfrff)

I also really disagree that Beth demands to be chosen by Ruby, at least consistently -- like yea arguably that's a bit what's going on in s2, but it also sets up her melodramatic martyrdom in both s2 & s4? And actually really the s2 conflict isn't so much abt Ruby not choosing her, as Ruby repeatedly points out, she already kinda did! I think it's more Beth losing her mind at the realisation that she's not Ruby's #1 bc Ruby IS Beth's, and I think given they're having all these srs convos abt the contrasting states of their marriages it seems for the very first time (plus the implication throughout the series that Ruby barely ever interacts with Dean) I think it's probs quite reasonable to assume that Beth is a genuine misandrist & thinks of husbands as essentially accessories, de facto incapable of being anywhere near as important as their bond. (see also that s4 line abt how no boy will ever break them up.)

I also think it's interesting in s2 that Beth does warm to rio and/or crime when Dean fucks her off (eg bathroom break) but also when she & Ruby are on the outs (eg naked feet backyard picnic bench in the sun scene).

I'm just gonna repeat: in the s2 finale Beth is trying to turn herself in & in s4 she looks absolutely shattered agreeing to never see Ruby again. I don't think Beth particularly asks Ruby to drop her life to support her? Like the girls do all do it to each other yes, but who needs the most support or is most eager to turn to an idiotic plan in order to make money ebbs and flows over the show with their different (primarily but not exclusively familial) concerns. That bit in s4 where annie & Ruby make a deal w/ rio @ the strip club while Beth's just there in the bg like helllllo can u guys hear me feels a great example.

With or without a romantic lens, I very much agree with what @sdktrs12 said about their friendship in this answer.

& I think if anything, the fact that maybe it doesn't come through all that well consistently points to a writing problem: this show did often tell us things that it didn't necessarily take pains or leave itself enough space to demonstrate clearly or repeatedly. But I do think we're supposed to understand that they love each other deeply, have been through so much together, have always supported each other and consider the other (and their family) AS family.

Do i think that we see Ruby going above and beyond for Beth more than vice-versa? Yea probs. But I don't think that's cos Beth makes or expects her do that (& in fact they even have this conversation in the s2 finale!). for example, I don't think Beth asks Ruby to stay in the series finale? I think Ruby wants to, presumably bc of Annie's arrest & understanding how otherwise lonely Beth is. & I think we get loads of examples of Beth supporting Ruby too -- the grief flashback & Ruby's speech to Jane in the cupboard both spring to mind [both a little clunky but such is life], but also Beth's concern for Sara (and indeed stan) throughout. I do think Ruby is kinder & warmer than beth; I also think she's much less damaged ♻️

If I was gonna make an argument abt Beth demanding things of or using anyone, it'd probs be annie? Idk if the show was being intentional with the nick & annie getting locked up cos of the activities of their ~siblings parallel but that does feel kinda Loud. Plus, compared to Ruby but also in general, annie lacks confidence and purpose. Also Beth's literally her big sister, and pseudo parent! Still though I don't really find this line of reasoning all that compelling. Overall I do think annie & Ruby make the conscious choice to do crime, repeatedly, to make money. They don't seem to enjoy it in the same way, or as much, as Beth, but I think we see them both get purpose or status from it too (and that that's to some extent used to display how awful capitalism is). Plus Beth no way asked or wanted annie to replace her prints on the gun!! Hmm I wonder where annie picked up this melodramatic martyring habit from.....................

Further, if I was gonna make an argument abt anyone demanding to be chosen even to the detriment of the other it would probs be rio re Beth, Beth re rio, nick re rio or Dean re Beth 🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️

Given all that, I think Beth and Ruby, who repeatedly sacrifice for each other & loudly declare the importance of their bond, have a far greater claim to being a canon love story than beth and rio who repeatedly betray each other, and by the finale iyam have simply demonstrated that they like each other & don't wish to kill the other & are willing to ally against common enemies plus maybe in general to avoid getting stabbed by the other 🤷🏼‍♀️

[helpinghanikan]

Hot Date

Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Sum:  It shouldn't have to be said that SHIELD researchers aren't allowed to date their wards. But that doesn't stop the romantic tension from forming between you. The real question is, whose feelings will be most affected when the tension finally boils over?

Anomalous weapons supervisor was typed out on your paychecks, but babysitter would be a better description. Diplomas, experience and more resulted in your butt on bleachers. Watching the important people play around with powers few in this world understood.

Whoever designed this area probably didn’t know who exactly would be using it. It had the basics; a track for running, mats for sparring and weights for lifting. With more off the wall items thrown in that might be useful to the superpowered individuals using it. Like the massive metal balls being lifted and lowered by the red magic of your charge. Or one of your charges at least.

‘Wanda seems to have complete control of her powers. Whether these powers are coming from her mind or some sort of muscle in her hands has yet to be known.’ You type out just intime to get a guest sitting to your right.

“Can I get an autograph when your book is finished?” Pietro has been working on his accent, so had Wanda. As much pride as the two had they were still looking to adapt. But there were still hints of it on certain words. Especially when he’s this close not really trying.

“Only if I get to sign those tits.” Obviously, a joke, but you still had to take a quick glance to the camera. Just in case you get dragged into a meeting and this comes back up about your unprofessional comments. Not that it would stop your work.

“I can live without the signature,” Wanda’s voice, although distant, echoed in the wide space. “You’ve spelt many things wrong anyhow.”

Few people could say they were as close to the Maximoff twins as yourself. Even after the discovery of an alien/god, of the defrosting of a super-solider and the destruction from a billionaire people were wary of the twins.

It was through simple respect that Wanda had warmed up to you. You hadn’t talked to her with artificial kindness, didn’t look to the guards when her voiced raised even the slightest. No, you had asked how she was (the room was too hot for her), if she needed anything (just wanted to know how much longer she was going to be questioned), if she liked coffee or tea (tea is preferred), and how she was doing, really doing (she was tired, you all were).

It was another story for Pietro. Only trusting you after Wanda obviously saw you as a friend. Taking his own time to warm up after getting the same genuine experience you offered rather the blunt questions and stupid statements. It was the dinner you invited them to that sealed the deal. Nothing brings people together more than a lot of meat, the warm feeling of alcohol and a quiet afternoon with a food coma.

“What have you written?” Pietro asks, your laptop now in his hands.

There’s no point in trying to stop him when he snatches things. A child who had to move fast for food and safety makes petty theft a hard habit to beat. Not to mention Wanda already knew everything that went into your daily reports with a blink of her eye, it was seemingly only fair that Pietro got to know to.

“Same stuff I was doing yesterday, and the day before and the day before that and the-.”

“Yes, yes, thank you!” Pietro says, used to the child like taunts and knowing to stop you early.

With nothing of interest on said laptop he turned it back over to you. Taking his place leaning against your shoulder as you begin to work once more. Only speaking up to ensure you add in the correct description of his improvement.

These reports were supposed to be done without the twins knowledge. You were supposed to be a spy on the side of the government. Although it was blamed on Wanda’s mindreading in reality you had never tried to hide them. These friendships were genuine, resulting with the man practically putting himself in your lap to try and keep your attention.

"How much longer do we have to do this ‘training’?” Although a grown man Pietro could act like a little boy sometimes. When he’s done, he’s done. Taking whatever actions needed to get through his current situation and move on.

“For as long as the door is closed, Pietro.” Wanda has set the metal down. Taking slow steps to reach her brother and friend. “She would likely go faster without you hanging on her.”

There is no smooth way to say this; Pietro is a big spoon. Any chance he gets a hug or to hold someone results in being overwhelmed in lean muscle. Pietro was the only warmth during those impossible cold nights as newly orphaned children. His legs and arms creating a shelter that protected his chosen from any harm from ever happening. You were one of chosen now, which explained the face made at having to get up.

“Alright kids, let’s head home.” You say, slapping the laptop closed for effect.

You were one of several who kept an eye on the twins throughout the day. Wanda and Pietro pretended not to notice how certain employees just happened to always be in the hallway when walking through. Or the little cameras that were hidden in plain sight among the decorations in their quarters. And that’s not including all the mom aged agents “just checking in” at random times, complete with the sing song voice and overuse of the word “sweetie”.

On any other day you would have followed them into their quarters. Give them a recommendation for the TV and even stay awhile to watch it with them. A chime from your phone changing the day’s proceedings. It’s only a second-long hesitation that announces this change to the twins.

Pietro says your name in a tone different than the one earlier. It’s a tone of concern that snaps your head up at him. Wanda hanging around the quarter’s entryway, staying close enough to be apart of the conversation.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, now with your attention.

“What? Yeah, yes, I just got a…you know, a hot date.” You turn your phone to face him. Not long enough for him to read the entire message but enough to know that you weren’t completely hiding anything “I’ll see you guys later. Brush your teeth before going to bed, I’ll know if you don’t.”

Before Pietro or Wanda could give a retort the door slid shut.

“Who were they talking to?” Pietro asked the only other person in the room.

Wanda didn’t answer. Rather tilting her head towards her brother. Rolling her eyes when he asked “what? Wanda, what?”

-

Although officially a desk agent there were times the field required someone of your talents. When this happened, all other duties had to be dropped in exchange for an outfit change and a fancy car shared with your accompanying field agent. Natasha has been your designated agent since the first field mission and could now be considered a friend.

It would seem the babysitter had become the baby. Including having your clothes laid and being helped into them before reaching the car.  

“You’re an heiress looking for some expensive decorations and I am your lovely assistant and translator for the evening.” Natasha says, holding the under-suit’s legs open for you to slip into. “We’ll show up fashionably late. You are incredibly rich and important and better than all of them. So, don’t make eye contact with anyone, and try not to say anything, they’re below you.”

Unlike fulltime field agents you weren’t trained enough to go without serious protection. Not just in the form of an accompanying agent but also in a (jokingly called) bullet proof onesie. So, fitting it was essentially a bullet-proof wetsuit that stopped at the knees and elbows. Making the clothes to wear over it something with long sleeves, past the ankles and covers the neck. Sunday school appropriate for this event.

“Can I fake an accent? Like, German?” It was a dumb question for you to ask, but the ride to the gallery was already taking longer than it should.

“Hmm, Let’s hear it.” Natasha doesn’t look up from her phone but still sounded interested.

“Vell-,”

“Stop.”

Very special pieces were being auctioned off tonight. Invite only without any advertisements to say what’s up for grabs to outsiders. Although the windows were blacked out and authorities were paid off (but obviously not enough) supposedly nothing for sale was illegal. But if that were true you wouldn’t have found a seat in the front row.

The language of the night was deeply European. One or two words you could maybe guess what they meant but there was no way you could name it. Nat knew it though; it kept her ears perked to the room and her mouth right next to your ear for most of the night.

First items up were the typical rich people arty stuff; vases and paintings that probably represented something to someone if you squinted. Those went for a year’s paycheck in minutes. It was after the third portrait of some lady now long dead that Nat placed a hand on your back, just below the neck.

“Next up is ours,” she whispered. “you’re doing good and you’re doing great.”

The entire night was spent with better manners than an office setting could ever be. Back straight, eyes forward, and no one is allowed to make eye-contact. It’s only when the target was wheeled in that your mask was starting to slide.

Genuine HYDRA blueprints for a titanium prosthetic. White ink on blue paper with decades old coffee stains and tiny tears, spread up and out under protective glass like a butterfly. Although Mr. Barnes had a serious upgrade with the Vibranium he now used. But these blueprints showed just how advance the original was for the time.

Sitting forward as it’s wheeled by wasn’t enough to authenticate the prints. Something you easily communicated to Agent Romanoff with just a look.

It was a bad idea, it called why too much attention, but Agent Romanoff whipped her head towards one of the several employees of the auction. Curling her finger at them to get them over and in her speaking line.

She speaks quickly, and with an edge to her voice, to the employee. With only a few words back that same employee returned to his post and spoke to the next man in charge.

“They going to invite a few of us up to inspect the piece,” Agent Romanoff whispers, “You’re going to have to be fast, we’re going on stage.”

Others in the audience made their way onto the stage when invited. Agent Romanoff ensures that you are somewhere in the middle of it. Heels and heavy shoes making creating white noise for your work to be done.

In all HYDRA’s documents, blue-prints and almost everything else their symbol was hidden throughout it. A little game of where’s the octopus in two places. A large, but translucent, icon covering the center. And a smaller one in the bottom right-hand corner, hidden behind the creator’s signature. Reproductions never had the smaller symbol, but the stains and fingerprints ensured you were right.

Later, during the debrief, you would be lectured about the importance of subtlety and espionage. But how was the look you gave Agent Romanoff any different than how others were looking at their people?

After that (completely natural and not at all suspicious) nod Natasha’s arm was around your back. This was part you were suddenly feeling ill. This was the part your assistant/translator/arm-candy would escort you out with just enough urgency and demands for the bathroom that you’d be gone before everyone was in their seats. Apparently this was also the part a sudden security guard fires twice into your chest.

“Watch your head.” Although not yelling Agent Romanoff’s voice was firm.

It's hard to say which was scarier; the bullets aiming firing for your death or how calm and professional Agent Romanoff was about it all. Although, few rounds were actually fired inside the auction hall.

Agent Romanoff shot an arm out to the first security. Pushing his gun up and inward quick enough to catch his jaw and take him out of the game. Agent Romanoff keeping the downed man’s sidearm for herself.

That was really the only bit of action you clearly saw that night. When things go wrong in the field it’s the agents job to remove their ward from the situation with minimal injuries. As the researcher your job was much simpler; don’t die. “Keep your head down, use your arms to protect yourself and trust your agent.” Was hammered in during field training. With this mantra running over and over you weren’t in the position to watch the mess happening all around.

“Someone, call the police!” It takes a second to realize it’s Agent Romanoff yelling this. In a panicked, almost shrill, voice that practically screamed ‘we’re being victimized!’

With all the guests now properly riled up it was easier to exit the building. Allowing the oncoming mod to carry the two of you out of the building without much more fuss from security. Trying to kill an agent was one thing but killing a rich connected person (or worse their spouses) would be on an entirely new issue.

Someone stepped on your foot. Another put an elbow in your rib harder than the bullets. And a third open hand pushed you, and your agent, right out the door and onto the street. It was only through the strength of Agent Romanoff, and your handling of flats, that this mission could be considered successful.

The blueprints were already being tracked and followed by the time you’re stripped down to underwear. The pretty clothes had to be taken removed, the makeup wiped off, hair undone, and the bullet proof onesie had to be taken away. Simple tank-tops, shorts and a coat were worn on the journey home. By the time it’s all off, and you’re finally walking into the apartment, it shouldn’t be surprising how you looked to others.

“Have a good time?” It takes a second to realize it’s just the roommate asking the question.  

It’s expected that any roommate a SHIELD employee takes on would also be with SHIELD. The two of you weren’t in the same division or even security level part of why living together worked out so well. She was in the know enough to hear you complain but enough in the dark to keep any secrets from getting out.

“Yep, had a real banger of a night.” Although a friend and technical coworker you couldn’t disclose too much about the missions. At least not until the green light is given by the higher ups. Instead, you can only give the people something to speculate about. “Can’t wait to see what the bruises are going to look like tomorrow.”

-

Spoiler alert: the bruises looked like hickeys. Something noticed by Roommate but keeping quiet about it in exchange to heading out early. Ready with the latest thing to share with the office mates.

Just like any working environment gossip is always somewhere underfoot. After being dragged in by someone who couldn’t leave it at home it’s then latching onto everyone who came close enough to hear it. Most ignore it, others listen then forget and others drag carry it further into the workplace. Until researchers leaning against the wall talk too loudly and Pietro catches a few too many words.

“Who were they talking to?” Pietro asks once the housing area’s door shut. Quickly clearing things up with the use of your name.

“I’ve haven’t seen them yet.” Wanda doesn’t care enough to close her book but does enough to look up.

“No, yesterday. Before they left, someone messaged them. Who was it?”

Wanda shrugs and returns to her book, but there’s a smile there.

“You know who it is,” He says, now on beside her. “Tell me.”

“I can’t say for sure,” She’s smiling again. Only a slight glance at Pietro. “but I think he may be very handsome.”

The siblings argued as siblings do. With Wanda teasing as sisters do. All of this could be heard before you even made it to the door. Standing at its threshold to listen as the two go at it.

“Natasha will tell you the same, Pietro.” Wanda says, probably aware that you were in hearing distance. “And she says he can do more than simply be handsome.”

Although you say nothing Wanda grins at you.

The gossip overheard is just words without evidence. Just enough to get Pietro thinking but not enough to create any serious emotions. But the “evidence” to create those emotions was now standing in the room. Small marks darker than your natural skin was peaking out from the lower neckline.

To you, they were simple bruises, nothing worth trying to hide, even something to brag about to the other desk workers. To Pietro it was marks of another person, something that pursed his lips and marched away from. Doing so slowly, to be sure that both you and Wanda were aware of how upset he was.

“I missed something.” You say, setting everything down on the counter.

Wanda has a habit of sneaking into other people’s minds. The mission, the shots and the everything was slowly being filed through in the back of your head. A pressure at the base of your neck screaming that there was an intruder.

“Stop it.” You snapped, but Wanda only smiles back.

 “How was your ‘hot date’?” She finally asks.

“Is that what he’s…sonofabitch. Pietro!” There are only three rooms in this section of the compound. One being Wanda’s, another Vision’s and the third Pietro. Making it easy enough to find the pouting grown man.

“What?” He asks upon your entering.

There isn’t a response on your part for moment or two. Spending that time going to the room’s corner. Standing on tiptoes to find that switch that definitely doesn’t exist on the camera. Shutting it down for the time being before turning to start your explanation.

“You can turn that back on.” He says from his place on the bed. “There’s nothing bad we need to talk about.”

“So, you don’t wanna hear about how I was shot in the tit?”

Manners were out the window at this point. Pietro openly looking towards your chest. Back up to your face, and back down to your chest. “You were shot? They look more like…”

“They’re not hickeys, I was shot a few time through a suit.” Frustration was starting to build up. It was overflowing when you finished with “You really should know about being shot.”

The hurt on his face screamed. He didn’t look away but stayed staring forward right at you. “Pietro, I’m so…I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“It hurts,” He says. “Being shot, it really hurts.”

“I’m sorry.” Even as you walk around to sit beside him Pietro stares at where you were. Listening to your apology but not saying much else. Until he dares to lean against you. Something more than cuddling with a friend this time around. “I get it, I get you’re scared and all that. And I really like you, Pietro, I like you more than I am allowed to.”

It’s hard to say who started the kiss, but it doesn’t really matter. It was happening, and it was so much more than a something between friends.

“When that camera comes back on this didn’t happen.” You say in a moment of separation for air.

“What happens when the camera goes off again?” He asks, thumb rubbing over the bruise.

[skellebonez]

Happy Birthday Kit!!!

It’s your birthday @kitkat1003​ heck yeah! And for your birthday Spirit is going to have a good day because I and many other people love them a lot! I hope you like this fic as much as I loved writing it!

It was possibly the oddest favor Spirit had done for anyone, ever. But, if they were being at least a tiny bit honest with themselves, it sounded like it could have been one of the more enjoyable ones. Well… technically Pigsy said it was “not a favor I’m just asking you to do this”. So. Potato potahtoe.

Specifically he asked if Spirit would “spend the day with him.” That was it. Simple, easy, long to be sure but not as long as many of the other favors that required a fetch quest at the very least. That was the original bare bones request, vague as it was. Just spend the entire with with Pigsy, 9 AM to 9 PM, and they would be right as rain.

And it wasn’t even like that would be hard! They already had work scheduled for the day, helping Pigsy open the shop and working the register. Why, they could even finish up the task while at work, two bird one stone and all that!

At least, that was what Spirit thought. Before Pigsy met them at the shop entrance and announced in a tired voice after chugging some very very clearly fresh and not sweetened coffee-

“Store’s closed for the day. We’re going shopping.”

Store closed.

For the day.

And going shopping.

Going.

Shopping.

Spirit pushed down their immediate shudder of “oh, that’s not what we had planned today and now today is different oh no I was not prepared for this oh dear oh jeepers” that ran up their spine.

“Uh- o-ok… where are we headed?”

“Food market, mostly,” Pigsy said with a shrug as he adjusted a few reusable baskets in his hands. He must have had a lot on the list for the day or he was buying a lot in advance. “Thinkin of hitting up another place or two in the area if we got time, but nothing too strenuous.”

A bit of Spirit’s tension eased from their shoulders and spine at this. They’d been to the market plenty of times before, so even though it was out of the blue it wasn’t exactly that unusual for them. The last time they went had been with Pigsy and Tang, and while their fighting over which carrots looked “good enough” wasn’t the most… fun conversation to be present for, it was nice.

Pigsy had even bought them a snack, insisting there were no strings attached. No favors. Just a snack from a friend to a friend. And that memory was nice… nice enough to help elevate any extra anxiety still lingering in the demon’s spine (that came from the news anyway, the regular anxiety was as there as always).

“Well, best to head as quickly as possible?” They offered, following Pigsy as he lead the way. “Want to get there fast to get the pick of the best vegetables, right?”

“You’re speakin my language!”

~

The market was surprisingly calm and quiet. Maybe it was because it wasn’t one of the usual busy days, or maybe it was because of how early they were in the day, but instead of the loud bustle and clutter and yells of vendors there was just a set of clearly dedicated loyal customers and relaxed vendors making small talk.

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Pigsy said suddenly as they made their way down to where he would usually buy root vegetables. “They do this sort of thing a couple times a month where the market isn’t open to the public for a couple hours. It’s a little somethin to help out the local restaurants and other businesses who come here for their supplies.”

“Is that why that guy at the entrance looked at me like I was about to steal a child’s lunch money?”

That hadn’t been fun at all. Until Pigsy had stepped up beside him Spirit thought they were genuinely in some sort of trouble they didn’t know about.

Then again. That happened a lot. Thinking they were in trouble they didn’t know about. Pigsy was trying to make sure that didn’t happen as much. “If I could tell their brain to stop it wouldn’t happen at all” was what he said when Spirit overheard him talking to Tang about them.

It wasn’t good to snoop, Spirit knew that, but… it was. Nice. Oddly nice. He wasn’t going to be able to just tell Spirit’s brain to stop telling them things, and before Spirit would be confused and maybe a little horrified at the idea, but after spending so much time with the pig demon it felt. Nice.

Their conversation continued on for a moment, Pigsy explaining what the market on these special days was like and how the deals here were so helpful and every stall they stopped at Pigsy made it a point to keep the conversation going with the vendor himself. Just open enough for Spirit to insert themselves if they wanted, though they didn’t except at the vendor selling oddly colored flowers (which led into a short explanation about how they were made) and an explanation of how many of the dried ones on sale were imported from other countries and difficult to find outside their stall.

They didn’t know why Pigsy was buying flowers, though. At least, not the specific reason. Dried, fresh, some with stems and some with only the heads. Some bulbs as well. Maybe he was going to try some more floral broths or flower infused noodles? He’d done that in the past apparently! And Spirit had watched him made odder things, experimental dishes that didn’t really change much with the old recipes so much as they simply added more depth to them.

Spirit did notice, however, most of the flowers he had purchased were… purple. Or, in the case of one, blue. An odd one out to be sure.

“Alright, we’re done!” Pigsy announced, smiling widely at his haul. Which, all things considered… wasn’t actually as much as Spirit expected. Still, a good haul. “We’re going to put this all away at the shop, I have an appointment with Sandy later but we’re not expected at any specific time so there isn’t really a need to rush.”

“AH, hold on just one moment!” The flower stall vendor said as he came out from behind his stall. “Pigsy, I want you both to have these. For being a wonderful return customer and for the nice conversation.”

Spirit watched as he tucked a purple flower behind Pigsy’s ear, a daisy if Spirit was correct. And then he did the same to them, making them tense in surprise. If they said anything after that Spirit didn’t realize due to their shock, but the next thing they registered was Pigsy gently guiding them out of the entrance.

~

Sandy was more than ready for them when they arrived, urging Spirit inside and to his couch while Pigsy and he talked about… something.

Spirit wasn’t paying as much attention as they normally would when they were immediately swarmed with cats.

Cats on their lap, cats on their arms, cats on their shoulders. Cats. Cats everywhere. So many cats.

“Uh… S-Sandy…” Spirit started, an uncertain chuckle bubbling up as another cat plopped down on their head. “Do your cats… smell fear? Or do I smell delicious? They’re vibrating very violently. And… rubbing against me. A lot. I mean, I know they’re purring but this is weird.”

Sandy turned toward Spirit, covering his mouth to keep himself from laughing at the sight.

“No, no they don’t and you do not,” he said with a shake of his head, and he gave a look toward Pigsy. “You probably got some catnip on you somehow at the market. You’re just their favorite person right now.”

“… oh,” Spirit breathed out, reaching up to pat one of the cats on his lap carefully. The cat let out a trill, rolling onto their back as they pressed harder into Spirit’s side. Spirit couldn’t help it. They gave in to the temptation to quote a video Mei showed him long ago. “… I have been chosen.”

They didn’t even pay attention to Sandy and Pigsy until something on a trey was placed on the table between all of them, the clinking jolting some of the cats and making them roll off Spirit (who was grateful for the use of their arms back).

“So… I was hoping you might want to taste test something I wanted to add to the menu for special occasions that Sandy is teaching me to make,” Pigsy said with a smile, gesturing to the trey. “He actually made these in advance, they take a long while to dry properly, but they’re supposed to be worth it. But I, uh, can’t guarantee anything.”

It was very… purple and blue. A clear cup filled with what Spirit assumed was blue tea and a purple… stick of some kind that seemed to be flowers dipped in sugar? The only thing that seemed to stand out was the tiny cup of what smelled like lemon juice between them.

“The stick is candied lavender!” Sandy explained, gesturing to the hardened blossom. “You can use it to stir the tea and add sweetness or just eat it as is! But before you choose, pour that little cup into the tea.”

Spirit raised an eyebrow, almost wondering if this was some kind of prank. It didn’t feel like Pigsy and Sandy would pull a prank like this but. Well. Who knows… but they wanted to trust that they weren’t so they did as asked, slowly pouring the lemon juice into… the…

“It’s turning purple,” Spirit whisper shouted, eyes wide and awed as the blue tea slowly turned from the brilliant blue to a more brilliant purple from the bottom of the cup up. “What. Purple? It’s purple! The tea changes colors!”

Pigsy chuckled, nodding his head with a wide smile. “Yup.”

“It’s called Butterfly Pea Flower tea,’ Sandy explained, smile just as wide. "Lemon and lime juice made it do that! It’s not really a rare tea, but we added some extra stuff to the lavender that should make it taste even better when you mix it all in. Go on, give it a try!”

Spirit looked between the two of them and picked up the lavender stick and tea cup, mixing them together as they sat back and took a sip.

It was… amazing. Earthy and slightly bitter from the lemon juice. There must have been honey as well as sugar in the lavender stick, bringing a bright sweetness to the drink. There was a bit of spice to it, maybe cinnamon, as well. It was nothing like anything Spirit had ever drank before. It was warm without being too hot, and combined with the purring of the cats surrounding them…

They realized they felt. Good. Not perfect, not completely relaxed. They didn’t know if that was possible. But they felt good. Happy.

“I think… I think people will love this.”

[magalidragon]

So this is in response to a prompt ask I got awhile back from @freesoulladyaic— they requested beauty underneath and I am not sure exactly what but I think there was a mixup for which prompt list and number was requested so I went with the one I thought made most sense I hope you don’t mind and so sorry it has been so long! Enjoy!

Prompt: “I prefer you naked but that dress looks really good on you too.”

"Fuck!"

"Language."

Jon looked up from where he'd stabbed his thumb with a pin, a series of them stuck between his lips.  He made a face at his wife, who was on the other side of the room, working on another dress form.  He lifted up the yards of shades of red soft organza and tulle, which he'd been alternating in a macrame styling on the bodice of the gown.  He'd been pinning them to the waist, already marked on the form.  It was giving it a very ethereal look, but with the deep colors, indicative of the Targaryen crest, the overlay looked equal parts ash and fire.

He finished off the bodice, taking the remaining pins from his mouth, and turned the form, frowning at the back, where he wanted to make the two straps criss-crossing from shoulder to waist thicker, both in black.  The red was just the detailing.  He pursed his lips, contemplating how best to achieve this, and felt eyes on him.  He lifted his, meeting Dany's gaze across the studio.  He smirked.  "What?"

"You're so focused, so intense."  She licked her lips, arching her brow teasingly. She purred, "You know what that does to me."

"Keep it in your pants, we've got dresses to finish."

"Hmm, the auteur himself, Jon Snow, working on his creation."  She sauntered over, in her long black housecoat, which she wore when working, her feet bare on the hardwood and jeans rolled at the cuffs.  Her hair was bound up in a scarf, kept from her eyes while she worked.  It was a decidedly unsexy look, measuring tape over her shoulder, pincushion strapped to her wrist and her pockets heavy with thread and a little set of scissors tucked into a brace on her other wrist, like she was some sort of sewing superhero.

He smirked up at her, the stool he was on swiveling over to her.  "Well I promised the client that I would have my best men on it."  He puffed his chest.  "And that happens to be me."

"Funny, I thought I was the client."

"You are, what do you think so far?"  He chewed his bottom lip, studying her face as she perused the fabric draped and pinned to the form.  He pretended like her opinion meant nothing to him, but in reality it was the only one that mattered.  If there was even a hint of dislike, he'd destroy the entire thing and start again.  It worked both ways.

She trailed a finger along the macrame detailing, the straps across the back, and lifted up the tulle strewn along the floor.  On the table he had sketches of the design, fabric samples pinned to a board on an easel, and at least one of the leather leggings he'd been sewing to go underneath.  While she studied everything, he got up, too nervous to watch her, and went into the adjoining office, picking up his vape.

Clamping his lips around it, he puffed, holding it in his mouth like a 'binkie' as Dany teased him, and picked up some sales reports, flicking through the assessments from their CFO.  They'd poached Willas Tyrell from his grandmother, mostly because he was bored with the steadiness of the established company and wanted something new.  He was brilliant, had taken their sales higher than even Jon had imagined-- and that was pretty far.

Dragonwolf had become the most sought after couture house in Westeros, while he transitioned L.Stark into an upscale ready-to-wear line, headed by Sansa.  Dany still maintained her CEO position over Dracarys, but Missandei had taken over as creative director.  It afforded him more time, he'd discovered, to do the things he really enjoyed doing.

Hanging out with Ghost, coming up with new creations, and Dany, not necessarily in that order.

He sucked down the fake smoke from the vape, tricking his brain it was actually a real cigarette, the action habitual and relaxing his nerves.  He sank into his chair, glancing at the photo of his mother he kept on the edge of the desk, smiling briefly at the image of her laughing, arms around him as he was wrapped up in fabric from playing in her studio.  His gaze darted to the image right beside it, of Dany in the same pose, hugging him after she had wrapped him up in fabric too.  It was in the same place, the same location he'd just come from, their private studio in the old townhome in Winterfell.

The vape still between his lips, he moved to the window, cranking it open and blowing smoke into the nighttime air, glancing towards the castle up on the hill.  The dresses were for the annual Winter's Eve Gala event, something of a who's who in the zoo of the Westerosi peerage and entertainment industry.  It was a chance for the Starks to show off the castle, everyone to arrive dripping in icy couture and jewels, and pretend like they gave a shit about the lesser people among them. There would be a famous silent auction, fundraising for the Lyanna Stark Memorial Fund-- which was incredibly important to his heart-- along with an award that would honor someone who had contributed significantly to Lyanna's chosen cause-- orphaned children.

But the thing people seemed to care most about was what everyone would be wearing.

He was making Dany's dress and she was making a dress for a new young actress as well as the young cousin of her friend Ser Jorah Mormont.  Lyanna Mormont was a Lady, technically, but you wouldn't know it.  She was a pistol.  This would be her first big event after her first movie had hit the scene, garnering her immediate raves and attention.  It was a big deal for her to be getting a chance to wear a Dracarys creation, especially handmade by Dany herself, but it was the least Dany said she could do for the young girl who made her smile and laugh every single time she encountered her.

Jon finished his vape, returning to the studio, and found Dany back to work on Lyanna's dress.  There were no notes left for him, so he continued to work, both of them silent.  He kept at it, accepting her kiss and murmured "don't stay up too late" with a distracted nod, remaining at his station into the night.  He pinned and draped and sewed, every stitch even, like his mother taught him.

Around two in the morning, his eyes burned, but he leaned back in his chair, feet up on his desk, and Ghost under his legs, fast asleep.  He was working on the leggings, finding hand-sewing leather to actually be a relaxing task.  It was soft in his hands, buttery almost, and he likened it to his mother, watching her work on making her own riding clothes.  He took a deep breath, slowly releasing it, and pulled on thread, slipping it in and out, until his eyes drooped further and further, until he was fast asleep.

--

The suit he'd chosen to wear was one of Dany's. The irony of L.Stark by Jon Snow, award winning and bestselling couture men's designer wearing a suit from anyone but his own line, especially Dracarys.  It was something he never would have thought possible two years ago when they were at the height of their hatred for each other.  Nay, he corrected himself, it wasn't hating, it was unresolved tension, best resolved by the explosion most everyone witnessed at the MET gala.

He adjusted his tie in the mirror, smoothing the velvet brocade over his chest, eyeing Ghost, who looked like he wanted to run up to him.  He pointed his finger, warning.  "No way. This is black velvet.  I'll never get your fur out."

Ghost wagged his tail, thankfully staying put on the bed.

Indeed, it was an incredibly comfortable and finely detailed suit, black silk tie with matching black velvet brocade along it-- if you got close enough you could see it was wolves and dragons running and tangling throughout, swirls of flames and snow following them.  That was a hallmark of Dany-- her ability to tell stories with her designs and the intricacies of her attention to detail.

He left their room, knowing she was elsewhere in the suite at Winterfell, where they'd deigned to stay that evening to prepare for the event.  He thought it a little silly; they would have to pretend to "leave" just to "arrive" at the same location and walk up the icy blue carpet with photographers.

Price they paid, he supposed, for business.

He left the suite, taking his time down the set of stone stairs spiraling down from their sitting and bedroom areas, into a receiving hall.  Davos was already waiting, their constant taskmaster, and he had Satin floating about somewhere.  "Where's Arya?" he asked.

"I believe she said and I quote 'fuck this shit, I'm not going.'"

He snorted, fixing his cufflinks.  "Sounds about right."

Davos checked his watch.  "I'll go check on the car."

"Stupid Davos, this is stupid."

"It's just a whip around the block."  Davos nodded, signing, resigned.  "Although aye, it is stupid."

"What's stupid?"

Jon heard Dany's voice before he saw her, and turned, looking up the stairs to where she was at the top, waiting for him.  He gaped, mute, and jaw dropping the moment his eyes rested on her form.  It took his brain a second to catch up with his body, which was already responding in kind, and another second for his voice to return.

He choked, watching her smirk at him, knowing exactly how she appeared and what she was doing.  Especially with the slow descent she took, every step tiny, allowing the full effect of her appearance to settle.  He could not believe it.

It was one thing to see a dress on paper, another in progress, and even the final version on the form or on a model down the runway.

It was another when it was on the person who inspired it, who it was meant for, from the first sketch to the final stitch.

Dany floated down the stairs, the dress whispering around her, the crimson and black rippling through the soft tulle.  It gave her a fairy-like appearance, but it was the black macrame, the black strappy heels on her feet, and her black fingernails, leather leggings, and crimson lips that warned eveyrone she was no simpering little thing.  She would burn you alive.

The skirt floated about her and she had topped it off with the see-through tulle gloves he'd made at the last minute.  Her silver tresses were spun in a complicated braided style, mountains of them criss-crossing and tangling in a crown about her head.

Someone asked her once why she always wore her hair in such intricate braids-- it had become her trademark.  "When I was growing up I learned a lot about the Dothraki tradition of a braid for a victory," she explained.  She had smirked.  "I grew up with the Dothraki.  They were my family.  I have never been defeated.  The braids show that."

Jon couldn't believe how gorgeous she was.

Or how lucky he happened to be.

He unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth, found his voice.  "You know, I prefer you naked but that dress looks really good on you too."

Dany beamed, her smile beatific.  She offered her elbow to him, to take and lead her away to their car, but instead he lifted her hand delicately, even though that had was stronger than anyone would have thought at first look.  Eyes on hers, unblinking, he dragged his fingertips up the tulle, delighting in her breathy hiss.

He dipped under the top of the glove, above her elbow, and began to peel it down, agonizingly slow.  Her pupils dilated and mouth fell, her tongue darting out to nervously wet her lips.  He plucked at fingers, removing the glove.  With her skin bared, he stroked her forearm and then lifted her knuckles to his lips, brushing over them.

"Jon," she gasped, brows arching.  "We're going to be late."

"Do you think I care?"

"It took forever to get into this dress and look like this."

He spun her into his arms, tossing the glove down, and nosed at her neck, whispering along her racing pulse.  "I made the dress, I'll be careful."

"Not a word in your vocabulary."

He didn't acknowledge that, because he was kissing her.  After a moment, he lifted her under her knees, hurrying her back towards the stairs, to her delighted giggles.

Occupational hazard, he thought, later when they were late, racing down the carpet instead of allowing photos taken.  He made her the dresses, even though honestly, she looked good in anything.  Or nothing, as the case may be.

"Dany, who are you wearing?" someone called out.

Dany shouted back.  "Who do you think?"

He laughed, racing after her and not even bothering to answer the same question directed at him.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Out Of Time ~ 4

MAIN MASTERLIST

Out Of Time MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,325ish

Summary: Steve comes back bigger and with permission to take Y/N with him.

Warnings: none

Steve was gone before Y/N woke up in the morning. She understood that he probably thought that was best for both of them, but she couldn’t help but be a little angry at him. She went to work that day, and the weeks following, with a plastered smile on her face. She struggled to do what she had promised Steve she would do. All she wanted to do was curl up in her bed and cry until she couldn’t feel anything anymore. It was her day off, and she was planning on doing just that, when a knock sounded at her door.

“Coming!” She shouted as she slowly got off her bed. The knock impatiently sounded again. “I said I’m coming!” The knock sounded for a third time just as Y/N had reached the door. She pulled it open. “I said I was coming! Couldn’t you just—“ 

She stopped speaking at the sight before her. A large, blonde man in military uniform stood at her doorstep. Y/N studied him. He was all too familiar, yet not at the same time. When she meet his eyes, that’s when she realized who was standing at her doorstep.

“Stevie?” She gasped.

“Hey, Y/N,” he smiled. 

“What— How— You— You’re taller. An-and you—“

“I got chosen, Y/N/N. They actually chose me. And it worked.”

Y/N was speechless. She turned around and began pacing around the living room, leaving the door wide open for Steve to come in. He came in and carefully shut the door. Y/N silently paced as tears formed. She wanted him to come back, she had literally prayed that they wouldn’t choose him. And look what had happened? God laughed at her and made sure he became the chosen one.

“Are you going to say anything, Y/N/N?” Steve timidly asked after a few minutes of pain staking silence.

“What do you want me to say, Steve?!” Y/N stopped pacing, turned to her brother, and yelled. “Congratulations? Well, congratulations! You successfully became a science experiment and got to join the army! You get to go to Europe and be shot at! Hurray!”

“Y/N—“

“Don’t, Steve. Don’t try to make excuses.”

“I wasn’t going to make excuses. I was going to tell you that I’m actually not going to be heading into battle anytime soon.”

“What?” 

“They— um… they think that I should go around the country selling bonds.”

“Selling bonds? Why?”

“You didn’t see the paper?”

Y/N shook her head. “Haven’t wanted to… I’ve been afraid of what it might say.”

“I went after a Nazi. Saved a child. The story went Nation wide. They think that because of it, I’ll be able to sell bonds.”

“So… you’re not going to be shot at?”

“I still want to go and fight, and if this is how I get there, I’m okay with it.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“I don’t know. But I got permission to take you with me. If you’re willing.”

Y/N sighed, running her hand over her face as she looked at the ground. “What I am suppose to do?”

“We’ll find you something.” Steve took a step forward. “You won’t be useless. I just…” He set his now large hands on her arms, running them up and down in comfort. “I just need you there with me. I need my sister’s support and I need to be able to take care of you.”

“Is this because you’re bigger than me now? Now that five minute difference is going to matter?” Y/N chuckled. “Yes. I’ll go with you.” 

Steve pulled her into his arms. It was definitely going to take some time for Y/N to get used to how large Steve had become. She wrapped her arms around his large frame. 

“I guess I finally have a big brother,” she teased.

“Hey! It’s not funny,” he laughed.

A week later, Steve and Y/N were in a large theater. It was filled with people. Steve was dressed in a red, white, and blue costume. Y/N was watching him as he stood at the center of the stage, just behind the curtain, trying to prepare himself to go out and face the crowd. She could tell he was nervous. Senator Brandt’s aide was there to make sure that Steve didn’t bail.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Steve second guessed, letting out a deep breath.

“Nothing to it,” Brandt’s aide said. “Sell off a few bonds, bonds buy bullets, bullets kill Nazi’s. Bing bang boom. You’re an American hero.”

“It’ just not how I pictured getting there.”

“The senator’s got a lot of pull up on the hill. You play ball with us, you’ll be leading your own platoon in no time. Take the shield.” Steve put on his mask and grabbed his shield.

“You got this, Steve,” Y/N walked up, smiling encouragingly at him. “Go get ‘em.”

Steve gave a nervous smile before taking another deep breath. Senator Brandt’s aide was clearly done with how long it was taking him, and pushed Steve onto the stage. The singers began singing and dancing as soon as he was out there. 

Y/N moved to the side of the stage to see better. Steve was nervous, clearly, and hadn’t memorized his lines. But he stayed up there, through it all. Afterwards, he signed autographs, with you right behind him. Life went on this way for weeks. Traveling to different cities around the country. Steve was embracing the name of Captain America and finally memorized his lines. The ladies were obsessed with him. Men wanted to be him. Children idolized him. You watched from a far, opting to just be Steve’s moral support, which was definitely needed. 

By the time November rolled around, Steve, Y/N, and the rest of the Captain America crew started touring Europe. They were touring the Allied military camps there. Y/N was confused how a man playing dress up would help cheer up the soldiers, but Senator Brandt insisted that Steve was needed there. And if Steve was told that he was needed, he was going to be there. Y/N was currently standing backstage, watching Steve get made fun of by the soldiers.

 She cringed as they yelled at him to bring the girls back out. Brandt’s Aide quickly ordered the girls back out and Steve came backstage.

“Don’t worry, pal,” Brandt’s Aide put a hand on Steve’s back. “They’ll warm up to you. Don’t worry.”

Y/N rolled her eyes as Brandt’s Aide walked away and she made her way towards her brother. “I knew we shouldn’t have come,” she stated. “Why would soldiers need a man dressed in tights to come and speak to them?” Steve glared at her. “Sorry, it’s just the truth.”

“I know…” Steve sighed as he took off his helmet. “I just believed that coming here would do some good…”

“No. You believed that by coming here, you would see some action. And don’t try to lie to me, Steve. We’re twins. I know you better than anyone else, sometimes even yourself. You just agreed to this tour to try to have an opportunity to fight.”

“Can we drop this right now?” Steve questioned as he pulled on his trench coat and grabbed his sketch book. “All I want is some quiet.” 

He turned around and headed to the back stairs. Y/N sighed as she watched him sit down and begin sketching. Rain started pouring, almost in perfect timing. Y/N eventually moved a chair to sit behind Steve and began reading a book. 

“Hello, Steve,” a British female voice broke the twins out of their thoughts. The woman came up from behind them, taking off her rain coat.

“Hi,” Steve looked up at the woman and greeted.

“You must be Y/N, Steve’s sister,” the woman smiled. “I’m Peggy.”

“Hi,” Y/N greeted. Steve had mentioned Peggy a few times in the past few months, aways blushing and stuttering. She could now understand why.

“What are you doin’ here?” Steve asked the woman.

“Officially, I’m not here at all.” Peggy just above Steve. “That was quite a performance.”

“Yeah. Uh… I had to improvise a little bit. Crowds I’m used to are usually more uh… twelve.”

“I understand you’re ‘America’s New Hope’?”

“Bond sales take a ten percent bump in every state I visit.”

“Is that Senator Brandt I hear?”

“At least he’s got me doin’ this. Phillips would have had me stuck in a lab.”

“And these are your only two options? A lab rat or a dancing monkey? You were meant for more than this, you know?”

“Oh, he knows,” Y/N muttered. “He just wishes he was out there fighting instead of dancing.” Steve hesitates. Obviously waiting to say something, either to Peggy or something about his sister’s comments, but stops.

“What? Peggy pressed.

“You know for the longest time I dreamed about coming overseas and being on the front lines,” Steve said almost wishfully. “Serving my country. I finally get everything I wanted, and I’m wearing tights.”

They’re interrupted by an ambulance honking. The trio turned around to watch the wounded soldiers be taken out of the ambulance. Tears form in Y/N’s eyes as the possibility of Bucky ending up that way. At the possibility of him returning to her in a coffin.

“They look like they’ve been through hell,” Steve stated as they still watched.

“These men more than most,” Peggy said. 

“What happened?” Y/N asked, unable to look away from the wounded men.

“Schmidt sent out a force to Azzano. Two hundred men went up against him and less than fifty returned. Your audience contained what was left of the one-o-seventh. The rest were killed or captured.”

“The one-o-seventh?” Y/N and Steve questioned at the same time, suddenly standing up. They looked at each other. The one-o-seventh was Bucky’s division.

“What?” Peggy wondered, standing up as well.

“Come on!” Steve insisted, grabbing Y/N’s hand as they ran through the rain to the command tent. Peggy followed behind, holding her coat over her head. “Colonel Phillips,” Steve addressed as they entered the tent.

“Well, if it isn’t the Star-Spangled Man with a plan,” the Colonel sarcastically said as he sat at a desk. “And what is your plan today?”

“I need the casualty list from Azzano.”

“You don’t get to give me orders, son.”

“I just need one name. Sergeant James Barnes from the hundred and seventh.”

Colonel Phillips ignored Steve and pointed to Peggy. “You and I are gonna have a conversation later that you won’t enjoy.”

“Please tell us if he’s alive, sir,” Y/N begged. “B, A, R—“ 

“I can spell,” the Colonel cut her off. He looked at the trio before looking back down at the stack of papers in his hands. He stood up, carrying the papers with him. “I have signed more of these condolence letters today than I would care to count. But the name does sound familiar. I’m sorry.” 

Y/N gasped, hand coming up to cover her mouth as she held in a sob. Steve stood there, tall, not letting that be the end of the conversation. He also didn’t want to show his hurt or weakness, though he held onto Y/N’s hand tighter.

“What about the others?” Steve questioned. “Are you planning a rescue mission?��

“Yeah! It’s called winning the war,” Colonel Phillips stated.

“But if you know where they are, why not at least—“

“They’re thirty miles behind the lines. Through the most fortified territory in Europe. We’d lose more men than we’d save. But I don’t expect you to understand that, because you’re a chorus girl.”

Steve’s jaw clenched. “I think I understand just fine.”

“Well then understand it somewhere else. If I read the posters correctly, you got some place to be in thirty minutes.” Colonel Phillips walked away as Steve looked at the military map, clearly showing where the men were lost.

“Yes, sir. I do.” Steve quickly led himself and Y/N out of the tent and into the show tent.

“Steve,” Y/N whimpered once they were alone inside.

He quickly let go of her hand and pulled her into his chest. That’s when she let loose, let all the tears out. Y/N had never told Steve what had happened between her and his best friend, but it didn’t surprise Steve to see her acting like this. Bucky was her friend too. 

“I have to do something, Y/N,” Steve whispered.

“Please, no.” She gripped onto his shirt. “I can’t lose you too.”

“I’m sorry.” He pulled away and began changing and packing somethings. “I have to try and save the guys that are left.”

“What do you plan to do?” Peggy asked as she entered the tent, shaking off her coat. “Walk to Austria?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“You heard the Colonel, your friend is most likely dead.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, we don’t,” Y/N cried. “But if you go in there, you’ll most likely die too. And then where does that leave me?”

“Colonel Phillips is devising a strategy,” Peggy stated. “If he detects—“

“By the time he’s done that, it could be too late!” Steve walked out to a jeep, the women following behind. “You told me you thought I was meant for more than this. Did you mean that?”

“Every word.”

“Then you gotta let me go.” Steve jumped into the jeep.

“Steve! Please!” Y/N pleaded, grabbing onto his arm. “Please don’t leave me.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He leaned down and placed a kiss on her forehead. “I have to do what’s right.”

“You can’t drive there, Steve,” Peggy stated. “I have a better way.”

next chapter >

Notes: Tags are struggling right now, for many writers. So I truly appreciate all the likes, comments, and reblogs. It means the world.

[loveamongthesailors]

ok to demonstrate plainly what i mean when i say that being a howl kinnie as anticiv praxis is the living heritage ov russian nihilism, an excerpt from voltairine de clerye's "some nihilists i have met"

"At present, I remember one face only, a wild, burning face, utterly unsubduable, which stands out in never-surrender prominence.

I saw it in an artist's gallery in the West, where this strange personage was posing as a study of a bandit.

Imagine a small, lithe figure, sinuous as a serpent, a pointed face lighted with tremendous lights of fire, and sunset, and running water gleams, in the depths of eyes now somber, now glowing under heavy brows; long, loose-curling hair falling to the shoulders, a picturesque dress of white-embroidered blouse, dark pantaloons and silken sash, and a voice quick and vibrant as the motion of a cobra's tongue.

We entered into a conversation concerning a total vegetarian diet; and, to my astonishment, this singular being declared that for eight years he had eaten nothing but raw food, vegetables, and fruit, and for the last two years fruit alone.

He had been living near to Nature indeed; in the summer he slept upon the ground, in the winter, in a blanket on the floor; had done so for seventeen years. On questioning what had led him to so strange a life, he answered, "Because I want to be free. I saw that men were slaves of their own artificial needs, out of which have grown so many oppressive laws, systems of production, and so forth. I did not wish to work for any one else, nor to slave nine or ten hours a day to gratify a need which is only imaginary. The chief causes of this foolish industry are the need for food and clothing. Civilization, so called, seems to have a rage for every possible compound, healthy or unhealthy, beautiful or ugly, so that these increase the necessity for toil. I said to myself, I will learn to live on little, to overcome the need for so many changes of clothing, and I shall be free. I have done so. I can live very comfortably on eight cents a day, and I do not starve on five. Then you see I love what is beautiful. A fruit dinner is beautiful to look at. Mr. C. (the artist) would even like to paint it. But suppose he paints a carnivorous dinner, is there anything about it? No woman need slave over the stove to prepare my meal, and there need be no dishes to wash afterward. Oh, one escapes a great deal of slavery. One's blood is never overheated, nor subject to internal changes; winter and summer I dress the same and am never too hot or too cold. I have my time to see, to study, to think. When I do work it is because I wish.”

“But suppose everyone should do so?” I said at last, “What would life amount to? What would be accomplished?”

He laughed musically, and stepping to the window, pointed to the street below, where the workmen were going home, swinging their empty dinner pails.

“There they are,” he said, “look at them. What are they living for? To build a city. Look at it, look at those bricks, these cobble-stones, those wagons, and the dirt everywhere. Down there it is dark already. Do you see anything beautiful anywhere? What is the use to build such a thing? Better to put a bomb under it all and blow it up.”

“Look at them,” he continued rapidly, “all running, running here and there, and swallowing mouthfuls of filthy air at every breath. That is what they call business --having an aim in life! The animals are wiser.”

“Why do you stay in the city?” I inquired.

“I intend to leave within two weeks,” he answered. “I wish to dispose of my library first. Another of the evils of civilization -books. It is a good chance, though, for anyone who wants them.”

Having something of a relish for book sales, and being, moreover, curious to see what manner of place my new specimen inhabited, I took the opportunity to say I would examine the books.

A short walk, which took away my breath, since I was obliged to trot half the time in order to keep up with the swift glide of my companion, brought us up next door to a police station.

We entered a small, dark room lined with glass jars filled with various liquids arranged on shelves, and, near the floor, little closets with mysterious locks. “My laboratory,” he said with a wave of his hand “--bargained for. The books are upstairs.”

He ushered me into one of the fairest rooms, draped in white; paintings and sculpture adorned the walls and niches; there were a few pieces of elegant furniture, and on one side, some five hundred books in a neat case.

The whole was pervaded with a scent of roses. “How beautiful!” I exclaimed involuntarily.

“Not at all,” he answered. “Only a makeshift. When I get my home in the woods it will be beautiful, but art is not possible in a city.”

“But what good will it do for you to go off alone?” I said; “You certainly have beautiful ideals, but if you isolate yourself, how will it help humanity?”

He snapped his fingers. “Always that,” he answered; “I reform myself; that is the beginning of reform, self. When I have accomplished it perhaps I shall return and teach others.” He glided around the room and added, “Yes, anyway I shall come back some day. The Americans are a lot of cowards, but some day they will talk justice, too. When it begins --perhaps here in New York, in Chicago, or Philadelphia --no matter where, there will be work to do and I shall be there!”

His five white teeth jutted savagely over the lower lip.

“Well, do you wish any of my books?" I had chosen a few, and, finding no further excuse for remaining, reluctantly turned to go. As we were passing through the “laboratory,” my strange acquaintance asked, “Do you want to see water burn?” and taking some metallic substance from a jar he threw it into s small dish of water. A brilliant blaze shot up and burned for several minutes. In its glare the wizard face laughed silently; “See,” he said, “how I could burn the Pacific Ocean.”

“Wouldn't that be a big contract?” I returned.

“There are other things I would prefer to burn. Well, good bye. We shall not meet again.”

And we did not.

Mr. C. afterward told me he had left San Francisco, to no one knew where. He had, however, a different theory to explain his bandit’s misanthropy.

He was in love once, C. explained, and wanted the girl to go and live with him on uncooked food. She declined, and he has foresworn civilization ever since.

“Ah, the usual woman in the case.” And I went away musing on the freaks of passion, my thoughts returning often to the wizard face with its prophetic, silent laugh lit by the burning water."

[shawnpetermuffins]

Decode

Based very loosely off the song decode by paramore.

A/n: I wrote this in 25 minutes. Sorry if it's trash.

Summary: you're supposed to be dating Shawn, so why does everyone think he's dating someone else?

Word count: 1.2k

***

And we're in yet another fight. Over her of course. At this point, I don't even know what's real and what's not. Which isn't what I should be feeling with him. We've been dating for just under two years, privately mostly, but his fans know about me. I just made it clear to Shawn when we started dating that I didn't want to be everywhere. There are things that he puts up with on his own because this is what he chose to do, but it's not what I chose. He respects that. But now he's parading around a girl that's not me because management thinks it'll be good for him to be seen out more.

What really sucks about this though, is that no one thought to ask me how I felt about it? No one thought to ask me how I felt about my boyfriend being seen holding hands and hugging, and fucking making out with someone else in public? Someone who has never even tried to get to know me in our long term relationship, but claims to be my boyfriend's best friend. Someone who has lied in interviews when asked about mine and Shawn's relationship. Saying things like "oh, we're so close! Almost as close and me and Shawn! I love her so much! They make the perfect couple." If she really thought that, she would have come to me herself and asked if I would be okay with her literally groping my boyfriend and sticking her tongue down his throat in the most crowded coffee shop imaginable. But she didn't. And neither did he. Which is why we're where we are now, screaming at each other for not understanding the other's side.

"Are you seriously picking her again? You don't see at all where I'm coming from? You're taking her side?!"

"Why the hell are there sides?"

"You tell me!" I fling my arms dramatically. This really wasn't the time to do this, he's finished his concert and just now thought to tell me that he wouldn't be spending his one day off with me, but instead would be flying out to LA to see her. "You tell me why I'm suddenly not being treated like your girlfriend anymore?"

"Oh, come on! You're being ridiculous!"

"Am I?" I scoff, "I can see how that's easy for you to blame me for this. But I won't take it. I won't, Shawn. I didn't fucking sign up for this. The entire goddamn world thinks you're dating someone else and not a single one of them cares about the fact that we haven't broken up! That we've never led on to a breakup! All they care about is Shawn Mendes playing fucking tonsil hockey with his so called best friend!"

"Y/n, you know it's to help sales."

"It was! Now I'm not so sure. How did we get here, Shawn? Because I'm looking at you right now and I don't even know you. I don't know the person standing in front of me, and frankly, I don't want to. And I think I know now what it is."

"You think you know what?"

"This change. You're not man enough to tell me yourself, but clearly you don't have to. Those pictures, staged or not, show enough. I see it in your eyes. You want her, and maybe it's just the idea of her. Maybe it's the fact that you can go out in public and be seen with her and she's fine with that because she wants to be photographed. She wants everyone to see her. She wants the world to know her and her relationship status and she wants to be relevant to people. You love that. You love that you can share that with someone. But you know that's not what I want and that I've never wanted that."

"Y/n, that's not true. We're just trying to sell the song. I'm with you aren't I? I'm dating you. Have been for a while now, in case you've forgotten."

"I haven't!" I point to myself. "But you apparently have. Because this whole fake relationship is probably the worst thing you've done in your life. You're lying to everyone. Including me. Including your family. And fuck, you're even lying to yourself. Because you may think that you're still with me, but you're not. You know why?"

"No," he runs his hands through his still sweaty hair, "but I'm sure you're gonna tell me."

"You're not with me, because the time we could be spending together, loving each other, you've chosen to spend on a flight to LA to be seen in yet another goddamn coffee shop, near a window with optimal view of you holding holding her hand, and her stroking your chest, and resting her legs in your lap, and you kissing her on the lips. Do you even realize that you've done what you said you never would? You cheated!! You cheated and you don't even see it, you don't even care!"

"I DIDN'T CHEAT ON YOU! It's fake!" His voice echoes through the room and I know that anyone loitering in the halls of the arena could hear him. "How dare you accuse me of that!"

Now it's my turn to get loud, "YOU KISSED HER, SHAWN!" I take in a harsh breath, "You kissed her not once, but twice! That's not cheating? What is it then?!"

He sighs, "Lower your voice. Everyone can hear us," he says lowly.

"That's what you care about? That people can hear? Fucking let them then! Because they can see, too. And I know they've all seen that you and I aren't the same anymore."

"I'm still me, y/n-"

"No you're not!" I cry. "You're not the same Shawn I fell in love with. And I can't keep lying for you. I can't keep making excuses. You've made such a fool out of me, out of us. Out of your fans. Do you see that? Do you see that you've completely shattered any trust I could ever have in you again?"

"But, I didn't mean to. That's not what I was trying to do. Y/n, I love you. You know that."

"I thought I did. But I don't feel it anymore. You don't show it anymore. Because you're so consumed… in her." I let out a deep breath. "I'm going home. I can't do this anymore."

"No, baby. Don't leave." He reaches for me, but I quickly pull back.

"Why shouldn't I? You're doing it! You're doing it to be with someone else. I'm doing this for me. Because whatever has possessed you to be so invested in the publicity of this, it's killing our relationship. No, no. It's killed our relationship."

"What?" And he reaches for me again, this time taking hold of my clammy hands. "No, we can fix this. I know we can. Let me fix it. This whole PR thing will be over in a couple months and then we can talk this all out and we'll be okay."

I let out a bitter laugh, "I wish that could be true. But there's no fixing what you've broken. I'm done, Shawn. I don't want to be with someone who is always going to put his career and reputation - or now lack thereof - before me. So you go to LA and you get photographed with her, and you promote your song, and you forget that we ever happened. Because as far as I'm concerned, it wasn't real anyway." I take my hands roughly out of his and turn to the locked door. Practically his entire team is standing there, eyes wide. I push past them with a tight lipped smile, but I stop halfway down the hall when I hear Shawn's voice.

"You're seriously just gonna walk away from this? You expect me to just forget about us?"

I face him, still so angry and say, "Why don't you call Camila? I'm sure she can help you through this breakup just like you helped her. Have a nice time in LA, Shawn. I hope this works out for you. I hope you're happy." And I leave again without another word to anyone.

***

Tag:@curlyshawny @anamariel2301 @shawns-badreputation @bbellbagel @turtoix @ivegotparticulartaste @tomshufflepuff @dino-16-avocado @sleepybesson @lifeoftheparty74 @shawnssongs

Like, reblog, and leave feedback!! 💙💙

[furin-chwan]

LuTen fic recommendations: a few favorites.

So I spent the last month falling in love with LuTen, Yukten, Tencas, whatever you want to call it. I read through the Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Wong Yukhei | Lucas tag on AO3 in English, then doubled around to google translate all fics in languages that is not English because that is how much whipped I am for this pairing.

In the process, I discovered some gems that broke my heart, some healed my soul, some got me howling in laughters and some made me falling even deeper in love with LuTen.

Now that I’m pretty much up-to-date with the tag, I want to compile a short list of my All-Time-Favorites, Favorites, and Honorable mentions. I’ll try not to talk about the defails, so you don’t get spoiler and can enjoy it to the fullest. (I also want to say, I love reading things with Angst, but I mostly can’t stand if if it’s not Happy End. So there will be a couple that will hurt, as a warning)

This is gonna be lengthy since I ramble a lot! So I’ll keep it to top 3 and a few honorable mentions. They will all be completed works.

First off,

In Shades by the munchking.

This work. I cannot, CANNOT, recommend it enough. I have so much to say about it, but at the same time, I don’t know what really to say. It left me a broken, sobbing mess after reading it. I don’t think I was ever really the same anymore. This is truly one of the best work I have read, across all of the fandoms. There was a recess period where I cannot even think about it because it would hurt in the best way, but it was still too much. I love it with all my heart, so much that I was so sad after reading it, then so mad, then I now just re-read it every other day.

The characters, the world-building, the writings, they are just absolutely unparalleled. There is so much depths to everything, and everytime I read it, I would catch something about the story, the foreshadows, the tiny tibbits of brilliance that I never did before. I have this work always open on my phone browser, just so I can go back and quickly read it whenever the urge hits me. It has everything from angst, fluff, the smexy stuffs, the badass-ness, everything.

While I will quote the whole fic to find a favorite part, since it is that brilliant, I can’t do that hear because that’ll be spoilers, so here’s a snippet:

The trouble with love, Ten thinks, is that it blinds you. It’s the most powerful force in the world, and according to Ten’s first law of motion, objects in love tend to stay in love. Ten really doesn’t want to fight.

If I ever have to pick an absolute favorite Luten fic, it would HAVE to be this. This is bookmarked in my account as “All Time Favorite” tag with a “THIS ONE FUCKED ME UP, FUCK” in the note. So yes.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20926073

Next, we have

Eyes Closed to the Wreckage by caesiumlight

This is the first Luten fic that got an “All Time Favorite” tag from me. I have an immense weakness for Spies/Super Agents AUs and darker-tone AUs in general, so this hits home right on first ball throw. The thrill, the badass-ness, the tension. I live for this (especially when we got SuperM’s concept of suits and gadgets, super agents/spies/soldier looking photoshoots and trailer, I am weak okayy?)

I am in love with how Lucas is written in here. The characterization is well done, and the interactions between characters is also such a feast to dive in. And even though it was in Lucas’ perspective, we still get to see so much of Ten despite everything.

Favorite part

There’s a presence at his side suddenly, and Lucas is pulled into an embrace. Ten cradles him securely with one hand gripping his. He doesn’t say anything, only strokes the back of Lucas’ neck. Lucas shakes harder in relief, breath stuttering, because he doesn’t know if he’d be able to pull himself out of this black hole alone. Ten holds him until he has nothing left, no tears left to soak the bloodied ground.

I have re-read this work five times, and even translated it into Vietnamese. So you know how whipped I for them.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14311836

Then, it’s

I, who was chosen by love, begin to moonwalk by zimriya

I’m a simple fan who likes ABO verse, especially the old school Alpha/Omega pairing (hey, sometimes I just want to read the PWP). Then this work came at me with something completely different and hit me with substance not just style, and I was ended just like that. It breaks the norm for this type of setting, and I loved every second of it.

The ache in here is real, it doesn’t hurt like In Shades, but this one you feel a constant humming of the sweetest type of aches. But then it just... dissipate into this warmth of softness and love and it will be the best thing ever. Ten is also written differently in here than how most would portray him in other works which was interesting refreshing to see.

Even when the setting is not real, their troubles and thoughts still feel real, relatable, and believable, and I think that’s the best thing you can achieve in writing. And while it’s an installment of a larger series, it doesn’t make you feel like you are missing out on information, it feels full like a stand alone piece. (However I do recommend other installments of this series even though they are all in different pairings, Ten and Lucas do make pretty great cameos).

A couple part stood out to me, but this is one of my faves for sure:

like Yukhei didn’t worm his way in close to him like some sort of overgrown, over-dimpled weed, with bad manners and bad Mandarin and even worse ideas about personal space and how friends with benefits were even supposed to work. Like Yukhei wasn’t what he saw when he woke up more often than not, or the last thing in his sight before he fell asleep. Like he wasn’t the one who brought Ten coffee how he liked it and humored all his little issues with any and all fruits; taught him tiny bits of Cantonese like it was second nature and then turned around and acted like he was the worst at languages.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21839893

That’s my top three most memorables! Now, here are some honorable mentions:

Stories no one believes in yet by umiwomitai

A very cute AU with good balance of humor, fluffs, and feelings. It is well written and I’d come back to this for a pick-me-up kind of moment.

“See, I may not look like Einstein, but I’m not stupid either. Xuxi is my dog, and you, though you might behave like one, are not a dog. Answer my question now,” he kicks the man in the thigh as he says so, earning a puppy look that makes him want to sigh in despair. What had he done to deserve this?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19724677

I Regular by umiwomitai

This work is fascinating to me, it touches upon really interesting subjects (unlearning prejudices and biases) and has subtle but great the world-building. What stood out in this work for me is the great and believable character development. It’s definitely an emotional ride, but it’s a full filling one.

In the bright fake yellow light, Lucas’s hair appear more blond than brown and Ten wonders if it would feel just the same as his if he ran his hands through it. If it would hurt if he pulled. If it would curl back into place if he tried to style it differently.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24288823

The Cure to Insomnia by Daydreamgirl

Softest thing ever. Seriously whenever I’m sad or hurt from reading too much angst, this heals me. It’s very wholesome too. Very much recommended.

Lucas immediately looked away from his phone and looked up at Ten. Ten was satisfied. He was sure Kun usually had to call Lucas three times to get him away from the phone.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21461449

signs of my vitamin U deficiency by sugarcoats

Fun, cute, smexy time with fruit-phobia Ten and personal trainer Lucas, there was a banana bj involved what more do I need to say.

Can’t quote anything from this one because I thought the summary is enough to hook you.

In which Ten is afraid of fruits and Lucas, his nutritionist, finds it worrisome but adorable.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18694945

the art of sales and falling in love by actuallyshua

Good old cat-and-dog style banter. Super charming writing. Bonus point with office AUs. It’s fun, it’s charming, it’s a gem.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20132332

And that’s it, my friends. That is my list of recommendations for LuTen.

I hope you will enjoy them as much as I did. If there’s any work you love that I haven’t mentioend the price, please don’t hesitate to let me know through asks, comments/mentions, or dms. Please check out the fics above and give them much love and support from us!

P.s: I didn’t mention in the list, it’s just because I assume everyone who knows LuTen have read through that series multiple time. If you haven’t, please do yourself a favor and go read it.

[loveamongthesailors]

losing it over voltairine writing about nihilists,

"At present, I remember one face only, a wild, burning face, utterly unsubduable, which stands out in never-surrender prominence.

I saw it in an artist's gallery in the West, where this strange personage was posing as a study of a bandit.

Imagine a small, lithe figure, sinuous as a serpent, a pointed face lighted with tremendous lights of fire, and sunset, and running water gleams, in the depths of eyes now somber, now glowing under heavy brows; long, loose-curling hair falling to the shoulders, a picturesque dress of white-embroidered blouse, dark pantaloons and silken sash, and a voice quick and vibrant as the motion of a cobra's tongue.

We entered into a conversation concerning a total vegetarian diet; and, to my astonishment, this singular being declared that for eight years he had eaten nothing but raw food, vegetables, and fruit, and for the last two years fruit alone.

He had been living near to Nature indeed; in the summer he slept upon the ground, in the winter, in a blanket on the floor; had done so for seventeen years. On questioning what had led him to so strange a life, he answered, "Because I want to be free. I saw that men were slaves of their own artificial needs, out of which have grown so many oppressive laws, systems of production, and so forth. I did not wish to work for any one else, nor to slave nine or ten hours a day to gratify a need which is only imaginary. The chief causes of this foolish industry are the need for food and clothing. Civilization, so called, seems to have a rage for every possible compound, healthy or unhealthy, beautiful or ugly, so that these increase the necessity for toil. I said to myself, I will learn to live on little, to overcome the need for so many changes of clothing, and I shall be free. I have done so. I can live very comfortably on eight cents a day, and I do not starve on five. Then you see I love what is beautiful. A fruit dinner is beautiful to look at. Mr. C. (the artist) would even like to paint it. But suppose he paints a carnivorous dinner, is there anything about it? No woman need slave over the stove to prepare my meal, and there need be no dishes to wash afterward. Oh, one escapes a great deal of slavery. One's blood is never overheated, nor subject to internal changes; winter and summer I dress the same and am never too hot or too cold. I have my time to see, to study, to think. When I do work it is because I wish.”

“But suppose everyone should do so?” I said at last, “What would life amount to? What would be accomplished?”

He laughed musically, and stepping to the window, pointed to the street below, where the workmen were going home, swinging their empty dinner pails.

“There they are,” he said, “look at them. What are they living for? To build a city. Look at it, look at those bricks, these cobble-stones, those wagons, and the dirt everywhere. Down there it is dark already. Do you see anything beautiful anywhere? What is the use to build such a thing? Better to put a bomb under it all and blow it up.”

“Look at them,” he continued rapidly, “all running, running here and there, and swallowing mouthfuls of filthy air at every breath. That is what they call business --having an aim in life! The animals are wiser.”

“Why do you stay in the city?” I inquired.

“I intend to leave within two weeks,” he answered. “I wish to dispose of my library first. Another of the evils of civilization -books. It is a good chance, though, for anyone who wants them.”

Having something of a relish for book sales, and being, moreover, curious to see what manner of place my new specimen inhabited, I took the opportunity to say I would examine the books.

A short walk, which took away my breath, since I was obliged to trot half the time in order to keep up with the swift glide of my companion, brought us up next door to a police station.

We entered a small, dark room lined with glass jars filled with various liquids arranged on shelves, and, near the floor, little closets with mysterious locks. “My laboratory,” he said with a wave of his hand “--bargained for. The books are upstairs.”

He ushered me into one of the fairest rooms, draped in white; paintings and sculpture adorned the walls and niches; there were a few pieces of elegant furniture, and on one side, some five hundred books in a neat case.

The whole was pervaded with a scent of roses. “How beautiful!” I exclaimed involuntarily.

“Not at all,” he answered. “Only a makeshift. When I get my home in the woods it will be beautiful, but art is not possible in a city.”

“But what good will it do for you to go off alone?” I said; “You certainly have beautiful ideals, but if you isolate yourself, how will it help humanity?”

He snapped his fingers. “Always that,” he answered; “I reform myself; that is the beginning of reform, self. When I have accomplished it perhaps I shall return and teach others.” He glided around the room and added, “Yes, anyway I shall come back some day. The Americans are a lot of cowards, but some day they will talk justice, too. When it begins --perhaps here in New York, in Chicago, or Philadelphia --no matter where, there will be work to do and I shall be there!”

His five white teeth jutted savagely over the lower lip.

“Well, do you wish any of my books?" I had chosen a few, and, finding no further excuse for remaining, reluctantly turned to go. As we were passing through the “laboratory,” my strange acquaintance asked, “Do you want to see water burn?” and taking some metallic substance from a jar he threw it into s small dish of water. A brilliant blaze shot up and burned for several minutes. In its glare the wizard face laughed silently; “See,” he said, “how I could burn the Pacific Ocean.”

“Wouldn't that be a big contract?” I returned.

“There are other things I would prefer to burn. Well, good bye. We shall not meet again.”

And we did not.

Mr. C. afterward told me he had left San Francisco, to no one knew where. He had, however, a different theory to explain his bandit’s misanthropy.

He was in love once, C. explained, and wanted the girl to go and live with him on uncooked food. She declined, and he has foresworn civilization ever since.

“Ah, the usual woman in the case.” And I went away musing on the freaks of passion, my thoughts returning often to the wizard face with its prophetic, silent laugh lit by the burning water."

[lovesickjily]

feel like glitter

JILY CHALLENGE ( @jilychallenge​ ) | @lovesickjily​ vs @chierafied​

"you have horrible taste in festival snacks, the clear winner is a pot of pringles and all you've got is some crappy cereal bars in here"

ffn or ao3

***

If James Potter had a dollar for every time someone offered him drugs, he swore he’d have twice the money in his bank account.

That should have been a given because hello? Music festival? Home to Instagram influencers and modern-day hippies alike? James shouldn’t have been surprised at the turn out.

Still, he didn’t think it would have been that bad.

Sure, the music was decent enough, but no one had warned him of strangers after strangers offering him their equally strange drugs. No one had warned him that once the sun went down, he’d see dark silhouettes hunched over bushes and smell what could have only been natural body waste.

And least of all, no one warned him that once he returned to his tent, he’d be greeted by a stranger sprawled out amidst the snacks that Sirius had been so insistent on bringing. A pretty stranger, no less.

She might have looked like the other girls who James had passed up— glitter decorating her cheeks like they were a cake and sprinkled atop her hair like snow stuck to a person’s clothes— but something about her set her apart from everyone else. It could have been her silky red hair, or those sparkling green eyes, but whatever it was, all James knew was that she was gorgeous. Supermodel— more than a supermodel— gorgeous. 

“Is this your tent?” she asked, her mouth full of what James could only assume to be Sirius’s snacks. No hi, or hello, no greeting. Hell, not even an apology for trespassing on his property— nevermind the fact that the turf that the festival was on technically didn’t belong to him—  and yet that, in combination with the crumbs decorating the perimeter of her lips, still made her look pretty.

He leaned against the pole holding up the tent, ignoring the smell of the unholy combination of drugs and alcohol wafting from the tents besides his, and cocked an eyebrow at her. “Is this yours?”

“Obviously not. I’ve actually got some taste buds.”

“And I don’t?”

She sat up, sticking her hands out to steady herself, and it was apparent that the readily-supplied stock of alcohol at the festival had gotten to her. "You have horrible taste in festival snacks, the clear winner is a pot of pringles, and all you've got are some crappy cereal bars in here.”

Right. Of course. Out of all the people that could have raided his and Sirius’s tent, it had to be someone critical of the poor, innocent snacks sitting in a messy heap on the floor. Even if he agreed that the snacks weren’t the best.

“Would you believe me if I said that I wasn’t in charge of the snacks?”

She hummed, pondering his wonders for a moment. “That would be a relief. Otherwise I would have questioned what evil entity in their right mind would give someone so fit a horrible taste in junk food.”

At his age, he shouldn’t have been so affected by someone complimenting his appearances, unable to help the light smirk forming on his face. “Think that horrible entity does exist.” He nodded towards the pile of her empty wrappers. “You practically ate all the snacks we packed.”

“The food here is horribly overpriced, and if not that, it’s swarming with flies.” She grimaced, plucking another Pringle from the box and shoving it into her mouth. “I’m terribly hungry, so do you really blame me?”

“Fair enough,” James said, and he decided that there was no harm in letting himself into the tent. It was his tent after all. “Move over.”

She complied, her hand still gripping the box of Pringles. With eyes greener than the fields and constellations of mascara dotting her cheeks, she suspiciously peered up at him. “What’s your name? Oh!” She clapped her hands together. “Don’t tell me. You look like… a Harry.”

“A Harry?” James asked, amused by the drunken rambles of an equally drunk girl. He leaned back, letting his body rock the chair with his weight. “My grandpa was named Henry, but no. It’s James. Potter.”

“James,” she echoed, and he liked the way the words fell from her lips. “I guessed a Prince name, so I suppose I wasn’t too far off.”

“You think I’m a prince?”

“Well, are you? Otherwise, I think I’ll have to leave a message for the Queen and tell her that I’ve found her long-lost son.”

“Tell her I’ve run away for good. Avoiding responsibilities and all that.”

“Obviously you aren’t here to court noble women.”

“Maybe I am,” James said, flashing her a slight cocky grin, and he bowed, outrageously curtsying her. “My lady.”

She laughed. “You’re bold, courting me when you don’t know my name.”

“‘Course I do. The name gods have told me that it’s…” He looked at her for help.

“Lily,” she finished.

“Lily,” he repeated, liking the sound of it rolling off his lips. “You a flower, then?”

She sighed, leaning back. “Maybe. I’ve got a sister named Petunia if that helps my case.”

James shrugged. “Depends on if you want to be a flower or not.”

“What I want right now,” she started, flopping her head back onto one of the pillows littering the tent floor and holding up the now-empty can of Pringles. “Are better snacks.”

“I reckon if you raid one of the other gazillion tents, you’ll be able to get that.”

“That, unfortunately, means I’d have to get up.” She buried her head further into the pillow as if to prove her point. “Is this yours?”

“I mean, it is my tent.”

“That’s the wrong answer. It’s mine now.”

James smiled, no doubt amused even more than he would have been had he chosen to stay out to listen to Sirius’s horrible interpretations of the EDM beats that were currently blaring throughout the air. “Take good care of it, yeah? It’s my most prized possession.”

“Is it really?”

“Nah,” he replied, shaking his head. “There was a pack of pillows on sale at the store the other day.”

She laughed. “You’re supposed to be wooing me here.”

“Thought I was. You’re not into thrifty blokes? Thought you’d be the type, seeing as we’re at a music festival and all.”

“And yet we’re not participating. Why is that so?”

“Because I found you raiding my tent and eating all the snacks?” James replied, and she let out a huff, weakly and terribly chucking a pillow that sent his athletic side into tears. “Couldn’t help but get sideswept.”

She sat up. “What do you say we get out there, then?”

He grinned. “Lead the way.”

***

In theory, it shouldn’t have been so hard to lead someone around, to take them by their hand and show them the way.

In reality, it was the exact opposite— so bloody hard. Because even if said someone was the prettiest girl that James had ever seen in his life,  it was really hard to maneuver the two of them around throngs of people who were all out of it. Thank the bloody drugs.

As they got closer and closer to the main stage, James careful to step over what he hoped could have only been throw up and not something else, the music grew louder and louder. And, apparently, Lily’s excitement grew as well. 

“I love this song!” she exclaimed over the music, moving her body to the beat.

“Yeah? You a fan?”

She shook her head. “I’ve never heard of them in my life, but you can’t deny how good they are!”

Lily swayed to the beat, grabbing his hands to make him move along to the rhythm. If he was being honest, he didn’t think he’d find himself in the company of another person who wasn’t Sirius— not tonight, at least. Perhaps it was the alcohol from earlier that day, or maybe it was the adrenaline that came with the thrill of being one among an entire crowd of people jumping and dancing and throwing their hearts— and stomach’s contents, to the slight disgust of James— out, but James didn’t think he felt so alive.

WIth everyone singing along to the song, James couldn’t help but to join in, screaming along with them and watching Lily jump around. And it wasn’t planned. It just sort of… happened.

Even surrounded by people, it still somehow felt like just the two of them, and he kissed her. Spontaneously. Hands looping around her waist and pulling her to his chest, James pressed his lips around hers, slowly and tentatively, before it escalated into something a little more.

Her lips tasted salty— perhaps from the Pringles that she’d eaten— but he didn’t mind a bit, determined to deepen the kiss. The action seemed to elevate every one of his senses, pounding at his ears even harder as the music seemed to grow louder.

And when they— he didn’t even know who had done it first— pulled away, he didn’t think he was letting her go anytime soon.

***

The bright, sudden sun jolted James awake.

“Rise and fucking shine,” Sirius announced, walking in through the flap of the tent and making a beeline towards the cooler. 

James groaned. “Fuck off.”

“I was about to, actually. It reeks of a potential relationship in here,” Sirius said with a grimace, and satisfied with the water bottle in his hand, he turned back around. “We’re leaving in ten.”

And then it was James and Lily alone once again.

Lily shifted besides James, having spent the night in the tent with him, and to keep Sirius away, she promised that she’d pay him back for all his snacks that she’d eaten. She rolled over, snuggling herself into the crook of his neck. “Good morning. Did you get a good night’s sleep?”

“As good that sleep could be with the bloody mosquitoes flying around. Swear I had to swat off at least a dozen for my lady.”

“And who is your lady?”

WIth her tucked against his person, it was obvious who that title belonged to. “Am I being too presumptuous?”

“No,” she hummed. “But I’ve got a massive headache right now, and I don’t think the flutters in my stomach are helping any matters.”

“Ah. That’s my bad. Is there anything that I can do to help?”

“Well…” she started, looking over at him with a light glint in her eyes. “There is something.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And would that involve maybe seeing you again?”

“Only if you get better snacks next time,” she said, and James let out a chuckle, letting his hand fly down to hers and giving it a slight squeeze.

“Deal.”

[all-good-things-dot-dot-dot]

All Good Things…

31st May 2020

Hello, Chaps and Chapettes,

Here’s my first true attempt at writing a blog, or any kind of a diary of sorts. It’s bound to go wrong, but it is my hope that it doesn’t. If I hope hard enough, it might stick around for at least a month, right?

I say that because every other time I’ve told myself, “I will keep a diary for real this time,” it has always gone the same way tits and testicles go. I haven’t had the right mindset to keep anything up longer than a few days, sometimes I haven’t gotten as far as to write on a single clean page. I’ve bought the nice shiny books with Harry Potter logos on the front, maybe even a shiny pen to write with, and then it has gone in the drawer for seven years before eventually being sold on to some kid in a car-boot sale for 50p.

Why do I think this time will be any different? Well, as you can tell from that first claim, I don’t. I feel I know myself well enough (and I should, I have known myself intimately for at least 32 years) to know what motivates me, what will work, what will fail, and what will trick me away like a witch with a cottage made of gingerbread and gumdrops. However, I also believe that detailed knowledge about myself is what will allow me to carry this on without dropping the ball this time. Maybe, just maybe, I know enough about myself to give this a chance.

You see, what has always been my failing in the past is giving myself the time to do these things. I have never had a structure to my life and even if I have tried to meticulously plan anything out, I have always ended up tripping over it because I hate structure. I don’t plan unless I am forced to, so trying to plan will make any project sour for me. That is how I have tricked myself in this first instance.

You see, faithful reader (you must be faithful to have got this far), I have given myself a limit. Thirty minutes, to be precise. All I have to do is write for thirty minutes each day. You can do a lot in thirty minutes, you can make a meal, eat a meal, and… Okay, I’ve ran out of things I can think of that you can do in thirty minutes, so I will cheat and say ‘write a blog post’ for the third option. Laziness, however, can last a lot longer. It can take up an hour, or an evening, a day or even a weekend. Laziness has been my disease, so by telling the sleeping bug in my brain that I only need to do something for a few minutes and then will be lazy again, I am essentially beating it. Just don’t tell the bug that.

In fact, this is already proving to work. My phone has called out to me twice and I’ve ignored it. I have written this much so far and I am only just passing the halfway point. I didn’t expect to fill a page with words this early into this game! So now I have the tricky stage of figuring out what I am going to continue to write.

I suppose I should explain what these blogs are going to be. I am going to sit down, as you may have guessed from my earlier explanation, without a plan. Instead, I will talk about what is important to me on that day. It may be long, it may be short, it will only be what I can write successfully in thirty minutes. That may mean I have to conclude with ‘to be continued…’ or a terrible cliffhanger, the kind you only get in a badly written soap. Sometimes, I may offer help, sometimes I may talk about a hot topic, but what I do want to stress is that there will be no angry rants. I will not pick off what I feel is wrong in politics, or in general media, or what beat up my psyche on the day I sit to write. This is because of the title. ‘All Good Things…’ I want this to be what it says on the tin. If it’s good, it is in, if it is bad, it is out.

That does not mean I may not pick fun at a subject. For example, I found it hilarious, when changing the name on my social media platforms, that some did not like those dot-dot-dots (‘ellipsis’ if you want to be scientific about it) that I added at the end. This replaced the word ‘vlogs’ because I did not want ‘All Good Things…’ to be solely about vlogs, or blogs, or funny cat pictures. I wanted it to be about the amalgamation of what I felt to epitomize the word ‘good’. Some social media delegations, however, do not like those three dots. They’d rather they were words or weren’t there at all. So, I got around this in some places by merely writing ‘dot-dot-dot’ and they were quite happy with this! Therefore, if you see this on any of the places I’ve chosen to hang my hat then you’ll know I’m having a quiet little chuckle at their measures of what is and isn’t good practice.

Two minutes left, so I had best try to wrap this up. I will do so by saying that I am happy with how far I have gotten with this so far. In future, I will try to talk less about myself unless necessary, I will try to talk to you, share things I feel help, and ways to get through whatever you need to get through. To that end, please never hesitate to shout if you think I can help with that.

Otherwise, try this technique out - give yourself thirty minutes, and do something you want to do but don’t have the time to. If you do it often enough, it might become a nice habit and beat your own lazy bug a bit!

This has been Scaramouche, tapping at a keyboard, wishing you all good things…

X

[katedrakeohd]

Author's note: This is a continuation of Wacky Drabbles #5 no prompt just dinner conversation...

Just Desserts

Drake and Kate emerge from the laundry room a few minutes later. Wearing his damp bluejeans, Drake feels uncomfortable but at least he's dressed. Kate takes his hand and tugs, when he hesitates she whispers to him. “I promise to make it up to you later, now come on let's get this dinner over with.”

Drake whispers back with a grin, “I hope you're talking about dessert.”

Kate winks at him, “Yes, and I don’t mean apple pie.”

As they walk into the kitchen, Lorraine glances up from the plate she's loading up with pasta for herself. “What's that about pie? Not until you eat dinner first. You know the rules.”

Kate grins up at Drake and rolls her eyes. “You heard the Lady, no dessert until you've finished dinner.”

Drake winks back at her as he grabs his plate. “Well then it's a good thing I'm hungry.”

Stepping in behind Kate in line at the counter, Drake purposely stands a little too close. Kate sucks in a breath as she feels her body react involuntarily to his breath on the back of her neck. She's glad her blouse has long sleeves to hide the goosebumps rising on her skin. Glancing over her shoulder at him, she throws a little shade to tease him.

“Back it up buddy, besides you still smell like goose.”

Drake takes a step back raising his eyebrows, trading her shade for snark. “Ouch. Fine next time I'll just let the honking goose ruin everyone's evening.”

Carol laughs, “No..no. Believe me I'm very grateful for your help with shutting him up.”

After scooping spaghetti and meatballs onto his plate, Drake grins as he sits down across the table from Kate. “See? My partner in Clem's rescue appreciates me, goose smell or not.”

Lorraine shakes her head, “Ok everyone let's all behave and enjoy our dinner.”

Kate quirks an eyebrow at Drake from across the table, he smirks back at her as she puts salad into her bowl. Let the games begin.

They all eat in silence for a few minutes and then Lorraine speaks up, “Oh Carol, didn't you bring wine home to go with dinner?”

When Carol gets up from the table to retrieve the two bottles of wine from the counter, Drake and Kate exchange a look across the table.

They've held onto their secret long enough. Kate drops a hint, “I suppose we do have something to celebrate. Drake isn't much of a wine drinker, but he's welcome to have a glass for me.”

Everyone turns to look at Lorraine when she drops her fork, “Katherine, since when do you not drink wi-…Oh my goodness, you're not serious?”

Kate nods, her eyes shining with happiness. “We are.”

Carol opens the bottle of white wine with a pop of the cork. “So you've already been to the Doctor?”

Lorraine holds out her wine glass for Carol to fill. Drake holds his out as well as he answers. “No, but we have an appointment scheduled for when we go back to Valtoria.”

“Valtoria? I thought your country was called Cordonia.” Lorraine says looking over to Drake.

“Oh it is. Valtoria is the name of our Duchy.” Kate answers for him.

Lorraine twirls spaghetti around her fork. “I still can't believe my little Kath- ..Kate is a Duchess. You've come a long way from the girl I knew, making mud pies in the backyard, all pigtails and missing her front teeth.”

Carol chuckles from the other end of the table, “And I can't believe Lorraine is going to be a grandmother.”

Lorraine frowns at Carol, “Oh hush you, not that I doubt that Kate's pregnant, but I choose to live in denial until I see baby pictures. I'm too young to be a grandmother.”

Drake spears a meatball with his fork, “That's what my Mom said wh- ..”

Lorraine interrupts him, “Hold on a minute. You told his Mother first?”

“I thought you were in denial Mom. No we haven't told her yet. His sister surprised her with a little boy of her own.” Kate chuckles.

Drake, who has his mouthful, nods in agreement. Pointing his fork at Kate.

“Ok well, as long as you told me about your baby first, that's all that matters.” Lorraine says, picking up her wine glass.

Carol turns the conversation off of babies for a moment, “So Kate, where did you first meet your dashing Duke?”

Glancing across the table at her husband, Kate wonders which part to answer first. The Duke part or the Drake part.

Drake answers for her, “Actually we met in New York city, at my best friend's bachelor party. We walked into Kate's bar, and after that all matter of chaos happened.”

Kate nearly chokes on her spaghetti. “If you mean me returning to Cordonia with you guys, well you can blame Maxwell for that.”

Drake picks up his wine glass, giving Kate a wink before bringing it to his lips. “Neither I nor Cordonia were ready for the likes of Kate.”

“I literally came in like a wrecking ball.” Kate laughs. “Breaking and stealing hearts as I went.”

Chasing the pasta around her plate, Lorraine nods. “I believe it. Kate's a firecracker when she wants to be.”

“As for the Duke part, I met him at the altar. He married a Duchess to gain his title.” Kate says.

Carol raises her eyebrows, “And how did you become a Duchess?”

“By turning down a King's proposal.” Drake answers, “He kind of gave her the Duchy as a consolation prize.”

“So you could have been Queen?” Lorraine asks incredulously.

Kate looks across the table at Drake, “I didn't want to be Queen, because I was in love with someone else.”

“Sucks to be him, but it was definitely a win win for me.” Drake says, looking up from his plate to give Kate a smoldering glance, his eyes dark.

Kate feels the heat rush to her cheeks and to her core simultaneously, ok now I'm ready for dessert. Sitting back in her chair, Kate pretends to stifle a yawn behind her napkin. “I'm so sorry. I guess I'm still on Cordonian time.”

Drake looks back down with a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. Picking up his glass of wine he tips it back and finishes it. Laying his utensils across his plate, he looks over to Lorraine with a satisfied smile. “Thank-you for dinner it was quite delicious. I miss sitting down with family like this. Between our weeks in Texas with my Mom on her ranch and this night with your hospitality we've been spoiled during our time in the U.S.”

“You spent weeks in Texas? And you give me a day?” Lorraine asks, her tone harsh.

Kate tips her head back and closes her eyes, wishing she had a glass of wine of her own right about now. When was she going to stop questioning everything we’ve done as if we were hiding things from her. She's so darn hung up on everyone's business. No wonder I couldn't wait to get out on my own after Dad left.

Drake can't help but notice Kate's frustration with her Mom's defensive nature. He glances at Carol, who just rolls her eyes at him. Time to shut down this dinner and move on. Folding his arms across his chest he turns back toward Lorraine with a stern frown.

“Yes, we were in Texas for my sister's wedding. Between the bachelor and bachelorette parties, the cattle sale and the wedding planning it took longer than we expected. Things weren't exactly under our control. This time around Kate and I were chosen to attend an Environmental Summit in Seattle as diplomats representing our country, and it was only a three day trip. We chose to spend our last day with you because Kate wanted to catch you up on the significant changes in her life. We're sorry we couldn't invite you to our wedding, Lorraine. Our engagement only lasted a month and with assassins threatening us from all sides it wasn't exactly a stress free time. We were lucky to survive the whole thing, so get off your fucking high horse and give us a break.”

Lorraine goes pale, eyes wide in shock at being put in her place. Carol raises her eyebrows, sucking in a breath. She speaks up, attempting to cut the sudden tension in the room.

“Alrighty then, shall we have pie?”

After everyone gets up from the table, bringing their dishes to the counter, Lorraine gently pulls Kate aside into the hallway.

With her eyes cast low she whispers. “I'm sorry Katherine. Please forgive me.”

Pulling her Mom into a hug, Kate whispers back. “I forgive you. I'm sorry for excluding you from such a big chapter of my life. I won't do it again.”

“I'm going to be a grandmother. I really am proud of you, you know that right?” Lorraine whispers, her eyes wet with happy tears.

Stepping back, Kate wipes tears of her own, nodding. “I know.”

“Please tell Drake I'm sorry. Since your father left I…” her face falls, unable to finish her sentence, she looks down at the floor.

“It's ok Mom, I understand.” Kate reaches out and rubs her arms, giving her a smile of encouragement. “Now come on let's get some pie before Drake and Carol eat it all.”

Lorraine chuckles, wiping her eyes again. “Just give me a moment to compose myself, Ok? I’ll meet you in the kitchen in a few minutes.”

Kate pulls her Mom into another hug, and then lets her go. “Ok.”

Lorraine turns down the hall and disappears into the powder room, and Kate sucks in a deep breath and returns to the kitchen.

Drake looks up from helping Carol load the dishwasher when Kate comes back in the room. Kate walks over and steps into his arms. Drake mumbles into her hair by her ear. “I..I'm sorry. I didn't mean to break your Mom.”

Kate steps back, slapping him on the arm. “Ow! I said I was sorry.” Drake rubs at his arm. “Don't forget that Bertrand shot me during the bachelor party.”

Carol laughs as she closes the dishwasher. “Oh my goodness you two are something else.”

Kate slips her arms around Drake's waist, he wraps his arms around her again and kisses her on top of the head. Kate chuckles as she closes her eyes and rests her cheek against his shoulder. “Oh you have no idea.”

Lorraine quietly steps into the kitchen, she clears her throat to get everyone's attention. “Um, it's getting late. So why don't we change for bed and then we'll take pie into the living room and relax a little before we retire for the night.”

Kate and Drake exchange a glance. “We don't have a change of clothes, our luggage is back in Seattle.” Kate replies.

“I’m sure we can find some sort of sleepwear for you Kate, but for Drake probably not.” Lorraine says apologetically.

Drake shrugs, “I don't usually wear pyjamas anyway.”

“You'll want your clothes laundered for tomorrow though, because you know, Clem.” Kate says.

“If you'd like, we could do the same for your clothes too Kate if you���d like.” Carol offers.

Kate looks down at her clothes, her blouse was dry clean only, but her skirt and undergarments were certainly washable. “Ok, I'll get my clothes washed too.”

Lorraine claps her hands, “Oh splendid! Alright then. I'll let you two have the master bedroom for the night. Drake you know where the laundry room is, Kate come with me and we'll find you something comfy to lounge in.”

Drake's mouth drops open as Kate, Lorraine and Carol leave him alone and go get changed for bed.

Continues here

..

Tagging:

Wacky Drabblers: @jessiembruno @brightpinkpeppercorn @jovialyouthmusic @sirbeepsalot @bobasheebaby @burnsoslow @emceesynonymroll @bbrandy2002

@qween-corgis @jlpplays1

[bellatrixobsessed1]

A Flame For A Cabbage (Part 3)

Azula returns to her loft feeling delighted and dismal in equal measure. On one hand, she has coin enough for roast duck and pan-fried noodles and then some. On the other, she is down another crop of cabbages. She has no idea how she is going to get the wall sludge off of her stall. She pushes her stall back to its place at the edge of her cabbage field and sighs.

It looks like she is due for a trip to the public bathhouse. She hates the bathhouse, too many wandering eyes and clothing thieves. And that doesn’t even cover the occasional piranha-ray attack. Whoever thought it would be a good idea to replace the koi with those to cut back on spending is a fool.

She makes her way to the springs regardless. She scans the water for the piranha-rays, upon deeming the coast clear, she strips and slips into the water. She is going to have to do some laundry when she gets home. She exhales with the steam of the spring, a feeling like she will never be fully clean again begins to settle in. But she doesn’t have time to dwell upon that.

“Hey.” Speaks a low and raspy voice. And there it is, the other reason she hates the public bathhouse.

Azula groans.

“You owe me three fiddy.”

Azula grumbles and pulls out a few counterfeit coins and slides it to the Loch Ness monster. “Now leave me alone.”

The creature sinks back beneath the surface and swims away. Azula doesn’t put much thought into how little sense it makes for such an enormous creature to soundly occupy such a small space. She quickly shampoos her hair and soaps her body. She is growing hungry and that roast duck is sounding very good right about now.

.oOo.

Sie scowls. “I think we lost” echos in his mind. “Not kidding.” He frowns to himself. Not only did they lose but they are covered in wall juice. It comforts him little that TyLee remains outside building mudmen.

“I made you a mud pie.” She declares.

Sie doesn’t have time for these games. He doesn’t know how, but this is the fault of that cabbage merchant. She must have enchanted the cabbage with performance enhancing drugs. Yes, that is it. That is the only explanation as to how he might have lost. It doesn’t have anything to do with his own actions.

He finds himself a seat and pulls it into the corner. The left corner. That is his plotting corner.

“Hey, you’re going to have to leave now.” General Sung says. “We defeated you three hours ago.”

TyLee sticks out her tongue and spits at him.

“Listen, we can’t have you out here. There’s this secret government agency that is trying to keep the public from knowing about the war and if they see you…”

“What?” Sie asks. “What are they gonna do.”

“They’re gonna be really mad.” Sung says in a sing-song voice, one that lets everyone know why he is named Sung.

“How mad?”

“Seven.”

“Seven?”

“Seven mad.” Sung replies. He stalks off leaving Sie to wonder what exactly that means. Is it a rating scale?  Are they, whoever they are, going to be seven levels of mad? Are they going to be mad for seven reasons? “Mai, TyLee, what does ‘seven mad’ mean?”

.oOo.

Azula makes her way over to the Jasmine Dragon. On a normal day, she would offer the severs some cabbages. Ruefully this is not a normal day, they are going to be very disappointed. Azula finds her usual spot.

“What are you doing here!?” The waiter demands, furiously. He is always so angry, as though every ounce of teenage angst that has ever been put out into the world has come together and flowed into this boy.

“I am getting tea.” Azula replies. “And some roasted duck and pan-fried noodles.”

Through gritted teeth the scarred boy says, “really, what the hell are you doing here?”

What is she doing here? She ponders. What is anyone doing here. She was born, she supposes. By chance a cluster of cells had come together to form her instead of someone else. She wonders if it really is chance at all or if life has some sort of design. A design that intended for her, Azula, the cabbage merchant, to exist and exist as she does currently with the temperament that she currently has. By extension she wonders if any of her choices matter at all; would she still be sitting in the Jasmine Dragon no matter what decision she had chosen or was it already decided by the fates that she would end up here in this location. Perhaps in another life she would not be in the Jasmine Dragon. She might be dwelling in a drill. She might be something more than a cabbage merchant. But then, perhaps, even if she was the Fire Lord, she would still be waiting here, in the Jasmine Dragon, for some roast duck because that is life’s design.

Azula frowns, she hates it when people make her question her existence and the vast enigma of life and the delicate strings and laws of time and space that flow perpetually and primordially, keeping the universe together as it is now.

Having that train of thought so potent in her mind, she considers that maybe today should be the day that she finally asks the big question.

“Why are you here!?” The boy demands again. He hasn’t even asked her what drink she’d like to start with.

Yes, she decides. Today will be the day. “Can I speak to the manager?”

“My manager can’t change that your coupon expired ten years ago.” The boy growls.

“This didn’t even exist ten years ago.” Azula argues.

“It’s not my fault that your coupon exists on an entirely different timeplane!”

“Well you shouldn’t be handing out coupons that existed before your shop.” Azula replies. “I am a merchant myself and I would never give my customers time traveling coupons. I don’t give them coupons at all. Just cabbages. Only. Cabbages.” She pauses. “Anyways, that’s not what I want to speak with him about.”

“Sorry about my cranky nephew.”

“Uncle!” The boy says, “It’s--”

“He is going through a rough time. His father has sent him away, he’s trying to figure out who he is…”

“You’re only paying him minimum wage?” Azula puts in.

“...His date the other night didn’t go well…”

“And you’re horribly understaffed.” Azula notes.

“...And I made him clean out his sock drawer. Did you know that he only has one pair of matching socks and that those socks have pictures of Kpop idols on them?”

Azula tilts her head. “Pictures of what?” Before the man can answer she waves a hand. “I am not hear to discuss your nephew’s angst. I am here to discuss a business partnership.”

The old man blinks.

“I am cabbage merchant, Azula and I believe that we can help each other out. I know that you have just opened your shop about a month ago. I have been doing business here for years. As a well-established seller of cabbage, I know how to bring in clients.”

“Then why do I always see you with a full cart!?” The boy shouts from behind the counter.

Azula grits her teeth. “Because I work very fast. I replace a cabbage as soon as it is sold.”

“How does that work?”

“I simply tear a whole in the air around me, reach into the portal, and pull out a cabbage.” Azula shrugs. “That is how all cabbages are grown.”

“That was the worst lie I’ve ever heard.”

Azula narrows her eyes. She holds up a single pointer and cuts a small rip into the fabric of time and space. She leaves it there just long enough for the boy to see before sealing it up. “Why do you think I keep my nails so long and pointed?”

The boy only blinks at her. She understands his confusion, for he was right, she had been lying. She lifts her pointer again, this time she can’t seem to tear another rift. “Born lucky.” She mutters to herself. “What do you say…”

“Iroh.” The man fills in.

“What do you say Iroh, will you be my business partner? Together we will be the strongest small-town franchise in the world, we will dominate the earth!” Realizing that she might be coming on too strong she adds, more quietly, “or at least the food industry. We can try to weaponize our business in the distant future.”

Iroh strokes his beard as he considers her offer.

“Can we discuss it over pan-fried rice and roast duck?” She asks, realizing that she still hasn’t awarded herself for her hard work.

“Yes, let’s talk business over a fine meal!” Iroh declares. “Zuko, let’s prep a meal!”

Zuko groans. “You can’t partner with the Jasmine Dragon! Tea and cabbage don’t even go together, that’s like the toothpaste and orange juice of food service.”

Azula rolls her eyes. Zuko is such a child. A child and a pessimist. But she...she is a visionary. A conqueror. And she knows very well that the key to dominating the food sales industry is acquiring a formidable alley. Preferably one who has more than just a janky little stall.  

.oOo.

“Are we there yet?” TyLee asks.

Sie pinches the bridge of his nose. The question bothers him for several reasons. The largest reason being that it implies that there is a ‘there’ to get to, even though Sie as given no indication whatsoever that they have any one destination in mind.

“Where are we going, anyways?” Mai questions.

He likes that question even less because it implies that he knows where to go from here. That drill was supposed to have worked. Now he has no plans and no leads. He has nothing but the knowledge that his father is going to light him aflame if he doesn’t figure out something fast.  

“Are we there now?” TyLee speaks.

“Yes!” He throws his hands up in frustration. “We are! We’re exactly where we need to be! Right in the middle of an unfamiliar forest where we can hide from our shame and humiliation.”

Crawling in my skin, these wounds they will not heal! Mai hits a button on her phone. “Sorry, forgot to put it on silent.” She pauses. “But in my defense, I didn’t think we would even get service out here.” Another pause. “Actually, to be honest, I didn’t think that I had one of these. What is this?” She holds up the phone before it fades out of existence and she forgets that she had it at all. To fill the void left by its disappearance, a kumquat is penciled into her hand.

Sie squints, he can’t shake the feeling that something has gone amiss. But what?

“I want to help you. You're hurt. We can help you feel better.” A voice in the distance keeps him from contemplating it for too long. “And we can help you find Aang.”

Sie creeps his way closer and pushes some brambles aside to have a better look. It would seem as if his aimless meandering has led him to a new opportunity. Surely it will end with just as much humiliation as his prior attempt but it is better than going to face his father without doing everything in his power to complete his mission first.

He takes a deep breath and turns to Mai and TyLee, “it’s disguise time ladies.”

.oOo.

Azula drums her fingers on the table. She is growing tired of staring at the graffiti on the table. An etching captioned, ‘my largge peengus by Toph’ had only been funny for a few minutes. She wonders if whoever wrote that had meant to spell the word wrong. She also wonders why the image itself is so squiggly. Moreso, she wonders why she is putting so much thought into such vulgar graffiti.

The more she sits there, the more she considers trying to cover up the vile artwork with something more tea-shop appropriate.

“You!” Booms a voice from the doorway.

Azula looks up. The boy seems to be pointing at her. Azula stands, he must know of her renowned cabbages and is trying to get one for himself. She sighs, “I am truly sorry, but I just recently lost…”

“No, not you.” The boy laughs awkwardly.

“Oh.” She also laughs awkwardly.

So does Ozai, for he has just been caught reading a hentai comic at his own war meeting.

“Yeah.” The boy rubs the back of his head. “I’m looking for a firebender.”

“Oh, yes, that is not me.” Azula replies. “I cannot bend fire.”

The boy nods. “That’s good because I’d have to…” he slashes his hook swords through the air “you too and I don’t want to have to…” another swoosh of his swords “you too.”

Azula nods, “I would not like to be…” she gives him time to make the gesture a third time.

“I think that the guys who run this place are firebenders so I have to get rid of them before they allow the war to get into Ba Sing Se.”

Azula perks up. “You know about the war!?” Finally, someone who isn’t a complete and utter moron. Definitely a moron, but not completely so. She can work with that. Especially since the moron is more charming than the soldier she had met on the wall.

“YOU!” Booms another voice, this one belonging to one of two uniformed men.

She is amazed by her own popularity tonight. “Sorry, my cabbages have been…”

“Not you.” The man clarifies. “Him.” He points to the boy next to her.

The man next to him nudges him and mutters something.

The first man clears his throat. “Actually, you as well.”

Azula grins but only for a moment before she recalls the bitter facts. “I’m sorry, but I can’t sell you any cabbages because…”

“Yup, that’s definitely the right one.” Mutters man two.

“Both of you are under arrest.”

“Arrest?” Azula furrows her brows. “Look, I know that I wasn’t supposed to be on the wall but those soldiers enjoyed their cabbages.” A strong set of arms attempt to pin her arms behind her back. She ducks under and sweeps her leg under the man’s. He topples and his companion is on her in seconds. She wishes with more fury that cabbagebending were a thing. The first man to attack her now wrestles with the other boy. They encase his arms in a prison of heavy rock.

“Are you sure that you don’t just want to buy a cabbage?” Azula asks as she ducks under a rock. She wonders why it is taking Iroh and Zuko so long to make her food. She gives the man a swift kick but he catches her foot in a cluster of rocks much like the ones around the boy’s wrists. It throws her balance enough to land her on the ground. “What do you want with me?” She scowls.

“To help you.” The man says.

Azula tilts her head, quizzically. “To help me? You know how to make a profit off of cabbages?”

“Enough with the cabbages!” The man shouts. “No. We’ve heard tell that you and that boy are trying to spark panic via vicious lies and rumors.”  He elaborates, “there is no war in Ba Sing Se and the two of you will soon realize that.”

Two things happen at once; another man walks in. She recognizes him as the first man she had attempted to sell to before trying her luck with the soldiers. He looks truly and unapologetically smug. The weasley little snitch.

At the same time she sees Iroh and Zuko emerge from the kitchen. She can only watch longingly as the uniformed man drags her further and further from her hard-earned pan-fried noodles and roast duck.

“No!” The boy cries. “No! You’re arresting the wrong people! You need to go after them! They’re the firebenders!”

“There is no war in Ba Sing Se.” The two men repeat in unison.

Azula does not quite understand, all she wants to do is sell cabbagges. Why is it so hard to sell a few spiritdamned cabbages!? They pass by the man who ratted her out, “that’ll teach you not to question my spending choices.” He folds his arms over his chest with a humph.

Azula narrows her eyes. Next to her the boy is still thrashing and screaming. But not her. No, she is not a screamer. She is an opportunist. Perhaps she can sell a few cabbages to these men. Surly they will need nutritious sustenance if they are going to try to overthrow their current government.

[neshabeingchildish]

22. Mr. and Mrs. Jasper Dunlop

I’ve been away from this story for a long while, because of my mental health, but definitely have decided that I will complete it, no matter what. Since I figured I wouldn’t be writing a ton of Chasper stories, I knew this one would be long, because I’d wanna include all my Chasper indulgences in it. It’s gonna be coming to an ending soon. Hopefully, the way I have been feeling won’t bleed too much into the mood of the story. I know it definitely did at a few points, but I’m just praying that overall, the story will turn out in the tone that I intended for this story and this ship. Thanks for reading. 

OH! And since I mentioned them a few times and I have them with lines and such, my FCs for these OCs are Fisher: Tanner Stine and New Henry/Craig: Davont’e Franklin.

Also, I gave up on editing at some point, so... that’s what that is. And wedding aesthetics will be out at some point soon.

Mr. and Mrs. Jasper Dunlop

Piper was bummed that she would have to miss Henry’s college graduation, but she made sure to threaten to beat him senseless as soon as she recovered if he didn’t proceed with his plans for the evening. He hadn’t planned much. Graduation ceremony, dinner with the family, and chillaxing with Charlotte and Jasper. It was good to have Jake and Siren in a room together without it being terrible. They both felt so bad about Piper that they forgot their issues for a while and just got along and supported her. In the break up, both had sort of put her in the middle and made her feel like she had to choose. She’d chosen Henry, because he was the only person that she felt could relate. Now, she was in the hospital, fixing her makeup to address her followers, and wishing she could be at her brother’s graduation.

Henry was fine. With Piper assuring him that his presence could have in no way helped her outcome, he could finally relax. He could just enjoy the moment… sort of. It was weird to not have her there. They’d spent a lot of time together since she found out that he was Kid Danger and they spent even more time together since their parents broke up. She was supposed to be here. Charlotte agreed to make sure that she captured every possible moment of Henry’s special evening, so it could be like Piper was there the whole time. 

Afterwards, he, Jasper and Charlotte went to hang out at the hospital with Piper. She was stuck in there for about 3 days and whenever she was released, she had Henry bring her to Jake’s place. She was going to need some nursing back to full recovery and she didn’t want to get in Henry’s way of Kid Danger things.

Henry, instead was immediately throwing himself into revamping the store. Nate had been working on things for over a year and they were ready to reopen the place, remodeled. Some of the former junk and stuff things were on the upper floor and arranged to look more like a gift and antique shop than junk. Anything that looked too “junk-like,” Piper and Henry had cleared out during a garage sale in front of the store. Everything else, she took charge of organizing on that floor and they plastered the old Junk N’ Stuff sign on the back wall, sort of like a novelty, honestly for their own nostalgia. Because, outside of the place was a new sign, with lettering that Piper had picked and a name that they had decided on together, “Heart Eyes” with a heart symbol for the “E,” so technically, “Hart Eyes,” and the tagline, “You’ll see something you’ll love here.”

Entering the store, it was like a little department store in that it had various stations - a fabrics and frames, jewelry and accessories, juice and smoothie bar and the florist center. They were near the walls, the florist being to the right, whenever you first came in, bar to the left and the others towards the back. The middle of the store was a boutique of formals and gifts. 

“This is actually really great, right?” Henry asked Piper. He knew that she would always be honest.

“Yeah. It’s amazing Henry. I’m super proud of you.” She clapped him on the shoulder and they both smiled. They were gonna be alright. They were gonna do well. He was sure of it. The worst had to be over… They turned towards the door hearing some laughter, ready to greet a guest. It was just Jake and Ray. Piper sighed and rolled her eyes. She and her dad were working on their relationship, but this new friendship with Ray of his was weird and uncomfortable for her.

“Yo!” Henry cheered. “If it isn’t my two dads…” He joked. Both men began to laugh very vigorously. More than he knew that joke was worth, so he asked, “What am I missing?”

“What? That wasn’t in reference to the comedy series with Paul Reiser?” Ray asked. “Because, if it wasn’t, I don’t get it.”

“Of course it was!” Jake said. “Oooh, I wonder if that show is streaming on anything.”

“Probably not. It was too good. But you know… Piper can probably pirate it for us.”

“You… would ASK my daughter to break the law?” Jake asked, folding his arms.

“No. I’d just tell her to do it and she’ll likely jump right in, because it’s fun for her to break the law. She loves that kinda stuff.”

Jake laughed, “You’re right.”

“Where are you two going?” Henry asked, knowing that Ray wasn’t going to share the Man Cave with Jake! 

“I’m getting my bag. Jake and I are having a sleepover at his house, if that’s okay?”

Henry folded his arms and said, “Well, you two better not stay up all night. Both of you have work in the morning. Also, I just checked every streaming service and no, My Two Dads is not on anything.”

Ray shook his head, “Figures.” He headed towards the back and screamed, “PIPER!!!” Jake waited with Henry and whenever Ray came back, with his bag, they left, shoulder to shoulder, talking about how funny My Two Dads used to be. Henry would have thought that was a made up thing, but he searched and it did come up. Totally real late 80s, early 90s show… though not about what he’d thought… 

He was thinking more along the lines of how he and Jasper used to say that they were gonna grow old together. If they were gonna have a kid, they’d get Charlotte to be a surrogate and Jasper would be a house dad while Henry supported the family on a hero’s salary. It was a perfect plan. At the end of high school senior year, that plan was picked apart. At the end of college, that plan was dust blowing in the wind. And a year later, that plan was replaced completely with the new and improved plan.

.

Welcome to the Wedding of Charlotte Ambrosia Page and Jasper TBD Dunlop...

Two years of planning made the wedding come together perfectly. While Jasper did have an additional year of college to complete in that duration, he landed a job at the firm where he was an intern, sooner than he expected and had been working there for half a year by the time of the wedding. And the wedding? Everything Jasper could have dreamed up and more! Henry was obviously amazing at this. Charlotte had gotten everyone that she knew who had a skill or product to offer involved. Piper was there, at her happiest and healthiest since the wreck.

Henry had told her, “Just worry about your little dress,” whenever she was asking about what kind of extravagant plans he would be entertaining for Jasper. That just made her worry more, when she really had nothing to worry about. 

The day of the wedding, she realized that the moms, Henry and Piper were on every little detail. They had Jasper’s frat bros and pledges to assist or serve, with the exception of the three that were actually a part of his wedding party. He would have had more, but Charlotte only had three friends, INCLUDING him, so even having three made her side unleveled. Fortunately, Schwoz was willing to stand in as a body to make things more symmetrical. He, Henry and Piper to Jasper’s Coogie, Snek and Fisher, with Henry handling Lady and Tramp, who kept the rings on their collars for safe keeping. 

Jasper and Charlotte had decided that the last entry in each of their affirmation journals for each other would be their wedding vows. Whenever they would finish reciting them, they’d finally give those to each other. They would also show each other their new affirmation journals during the gift exchange.

Processional

The wedding party all had on pastel yellow or orange with bright red, orange and yellow accessories. Jasper had a suit with a red floral jacket and red pants with gold accents. Technically, it was a women’s suit, but it was what he wanted, so they got it tailored to him and Charlotte had to admit that he not only pulled it off, but it was a LEWK. It was doing it for her. She was able to see him long before he could see her, and not because of bad luck or any other such nonsense. Because of good old fashioned, she was extremely busy trying to finish up everything at work before her small break, she had to squeeze in a party that was forced upon her, and the day of the actual wedding, her mother and Aunt Cohort insisted on keeping her apart from everybody, because her entrance had to be the most memorable part of the ceremony. Fucking Bolton women… Well… Cohort… was by marriage, but STILL. 

Luckily, Piper was posting in her stories and Charlotte’s phone hadn’t been taken away. She was SO GLAD whenever it was time for her mom and aunt to go have a seat. Then, whenever Henry came to retrieve her, give her the bouquet that he didn’t trust ANYONE touching until it was go time and let her pet her doggies before her dad had to walk her down the aisle.

Bride’s Entrance 

Henry went in first with the dogs in their miniature outfits that were made to look like a bride and groom, though they didn’t quite match Jasper and Charlotte. Tramp’s suit was red and she had on a floral crown, while Lady had on a white dress, nothing like Char’s and a veil. She had these little leg cuffs and people went crazy to see the doggos look so adorable, but it was time to stand for the bride and Jasper was excited, nervous, anxious, and eager, all at once. 

His pledges opened the doors and on Mr. Page’s arm was Charlotte, tiny and glowing -  not wearing heels, because she didn’t want to possibly fall today and not wearing her usual thick soles, because she simply didn’t have any that were wedding appropriate. “Oh my God,” Jasper said, along with a chorus of his frat bros. The dress that Charlotte had made was short in the front, long in the back, frilly kinda like a tutu at the bottom, but cascading behind her and had iridescent highlights in it that made it kind of twinkle and crystals on it that made it kind of sparkle. She was SUCH a sight, he didn’t even know what to do but try not to cry at this vision. 

She wore a luminous highlighter and a light shimmer on her skin, which was moisturized and radiant. Adanna made her jewelry of jasper, mock rubies, crystals and gold. And the bridal frohawk that she wore was adorned with sparkly gems and small flowers on the knotted twists. As she got closer, he could see that she put a heart in rhinestones around her “Yes” tattoo, and his heart could hardly handle any of this. The frat brothers began a chorus of big dog barking - that always put his head back in the game, but he figured that today was probably not a good day to go that route. He was appeased with Little Dog joined in with her tiny barking, and he was able to compose himself again.

Whenever Mr. Page passed her hands over to Jasper’s, he was all choked up, they both were. Charlotte was actually, surprisingly calm, considering that her heart was beating and her hands were sweating and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from this man in front of her that she NEVER EVER thought she would EVER be standing here with, feeling this way… Just 6 years ago, she wouldn’t have even kissed him on the cheek! “You look amazing,” he managed to say. She couldn’t speak. He looked… UNF. She just couldn’t. She tried to catch her breath, but he moved so close that she thought he might kiss her. Instead he smiled, giddy, and brushed his nose against hers. He kept his face very near her face and neck and probably was going to wind up sore from trying to be so close to her. He kept whispering things like, “I can’t believe this is really happening,” and “I love you so much.”

Words from the Parents...

Instead of “readings,” they’d asked their parents for tiny speeches of advice. There were no poems or lyrics that were going to sum up what they felt. Better to bring this new adventure in with the most important people giving them the most sacred advice on their special day. 

Mr. Page said, “From the time Charlotte was a little girl, she always knew what she wanted and she never had trouble working hard to get it. So much, that by the time she was 6, I pretty much knew I could trust that she meant whatever she would say. So, whenever she said that you two were together, I honestly didn’t think twice about it. I’ve always wondered, will she make the right choice in a man, or a woman, if that would have been where she would have gone. I always thought if she came home one day with someone that I didn’t understand being for her, would I be able to accept it. Jasper… We’ve known you for years and I didn’t think you and my daughter were right for each other, but I knew her and I trusted her, so whenever I saw that it lasted and that it would come to this, I expected that. Because Charlotte might make mistakes, but she’s never made any that I’ve seen. So, you just better trust her. Trust her to do what she wants and needs to do for herself and trust in whatever she vows to do for you. She always knows exactly what she means. Always have.” Henry patted an emotional Jasper on the back. 

Recognition, advice, guidance from men was always a soft spot for him, having not had his dad around most of his life, and coming from his soon to be father-in-law, on a day already crammed with emotions, he just had to let a few happy tears fall. 

Mrs. Page said, “To add to that, make sure that she can trust you! One time when she was like 9 ot 10, my brother played what he felt like was a little prank on her. I don’t even remember what it was…” Charlotte almost interrupted to explain the prank, but didn’t want to derail her own wedding. “And whatever Coco did, Charlotte didn’t forgive him for YEARS and she still hasn’t forgotten. Look at her face.” They all laughed. “She’s slow to forgive and never forgets, so you need to be sure that you remain honest and trustworthy, Jasper. And Charlotte, you know I’ve been giving you bits and pieces all throughout this engagement, to the point that I don’t have much more to say but to just say this in summation: Be soft with him. He’s sensitive and you can be hard and cold sometimes. It won’t make you weak to be soft with him.” Charlotte furrowed her eyebrows. I AM soft with him. Him and him alone. Jasper squeezed her hand and pressed his cheek against her bridal frohawk. His mother simply offered congratulations and said, “Even I’ve learned a lot about her from you, so I can’t give advice, but I freely give my blessing and hope that she continues to love you as much as she’s shown me that she has.” 

Jasper was crying and wondering again why they didn’t have this happen at the reception, instead of as part of the wedding, but Henry had explained to him before - the WEDDING is supposed to be an emotional event. The reception is supposed to be a party with photo ops. Besides, only person qualified to give a speech at you two’s reception is ME.” 

Jack Leigh took the microphone from Pansy… not aggressively or anything, just eagerly. She stood, somewhat uncomfortably next to him as he announced, “Some of you probably don’t know me, but I am Jasper’s bio-dad. We didn’t really have a long history together, but what interactions we did have were definitely among the most significant ones in my life. I wasn’t the kind of father that Jasper needed and wasn’t the kind of husband his mom needed. So, my advice today would be - always put this relationship first. When you’re married, when you’ve decided in your heart that this is the one, nothing should be more important to you than your wife and your family. Whenever we met, I was SO PROUD that you had done so well. I was always worried that I would’ve screwed you up so bad that you’d hate me and not even believe in love, or worst - that you’d turn out like me. You managed to be a good kid, find a great woman and be smart enough to learn to love her and know her before making a huge decision. And you two just… work. So, my advice is to keep trusting and believing in yourself. You’ll do right by her and by this marriage. Because, whatever is inside of you has made you that kind of man.”

Henry preemptively handed Jasper a cloth handkerchief, which he sobbed into, with Charlotte rubbing his belly, affectionately and soothing him with her voice. It wasn’t until Uncle Roscoe yelled out, “Let it out, Lil’ Nephew! Big Dogs cry too!” And everyone, including Jasper started laughing. Things became a little less tense and the rest of the ceremony carried on beautifully. Uncle Rox was the man! Jasper reminded himself.

Reciting of Vows

Since Henry had the dogs, Piper held on to Charlotte’s affirmation journal for her and Fisher has Jasper’s. Henry had decided that it was better for them to stand behind and a little off to the side and extend their arms forward with the books, as to not get in between the officiant and the couple, and not to block too much the couple from the guests, but also to not have Charlotte and Jasper release hands to hold books. Just as well, he encouraged them to try to memorize the vows, but knew that Charlotte, while she might be able to memorize it all word for word, would feel more comfortable with having them there. But, she had already talked to both of them and instead of them awkwardly holding them for them to be read, both Piper and Fisher simply held the books and stood beside them, with them open. If they had a pause or something, they could just whisper the next line. Henry was salty that he hadn’t thought of that, but Charlotte WAS the brains of that operation. 

Jasper spoke, “Charlotte, whenever I first fell in love with you, I knew that I wasn’t what you would have looked for in a man, but I was up to that challenge, because I knew that you were worth more than any person that I would ever know or meet in my life. And I’m still up to that challenge, as you continue to evolve and grow into a greater person, I will continue to push myself to be worthy of being at your side. I will be strong for you, even though I know that you’re strong enough. I will be brave for you, even though I know that you’re brave enough. I will be every definition of a man that you could ever possibly dream of and if I can’t, I’ll determine that I just have to work harder. You’ll never be alone, as long as I’m alive and you’ll never be without as long as I have breath in me. I don’t care what it takes. I’ve been determined to be what you want, need, and love, and I will never stop being and doing that, as long as I live and as long as we’re together.”

Charlotte’s face twisted in emotion and Piper quickly tucked the journal and clapped her hands twice. Schwoz wiped at Charlotte’s eye corners to catch the tears in the tear cloth, Henry fanned her to keep her from being too warm and Adanna passed a refresher rose water spray spritz to Piper, which she sprayed a couple of times on Charlotte’s face as Henry fanned, and Schwoz blotted. Charlotte nodded once and the three whispered, “Break!” and resumed their positions. The guests laughed a little at the proficiency and dedication, but Charlotte took a deep breath and motivated herself, “You’ve got this, Charlotte. You’re good.”

“You’re the best,” Jasper corrected her, with a teary smile. 

She smiled at him and nodded her head. “Jasper. Before us, I knew what I wanted and who I wanted to be - just like my dad said earlier -”

“Good improv,” Piper whispered and Charlotte just winked and continued.

“But, whenever you made your presence known in my life, I had to rethink my entire future. I wouldn’t just do that for some guy. I would only do that for a man that I knew that I could trust, love, and respect for the rest of my life. Neither of us is perfect, but we still manage to make it work out perfectly, and surprisingly and refreshingly, that’s never all on me. I’ve known a lot of people to get married and lose themselves in each other, or even become an unmarried couple and begin to live their lives revolving around the other person and a lot of times neglecting themselves and I was worried and scared that it might happen to me. But, you’ve remained my best friend and you’ve become my life partner. You motivate me to be more of myself and you inspire me to be a higher me… That’s so goofy, but it’s true. I just want to be able to reciprocate that determination and dedication that you show. Not to lose myself in you, but to continue to find myself, with you and for you to continue to find yourself with me, and you are the only person that I could ever imagine it working so perfectly with. The only person I would be willing to call myself “Mrs.” for. From this day on, that’s who I am.”

Jasper ugly cried and Fisher asked Piper, “Can we get one of those ummm…?” Piper clapped her hands twice and they fixed Jasper right up, too. She smiled at Fisher as they three said, “Break!”

Gift Presentation and Ring Exchange

Charlotte and Jasper gave each other their affirmation journals, which they passed back to Piper and Fisher, who put them away where they had kept the previous ones, before the vows recitals. Henry took that time to collect the rings from the dogs’ collars and pass them to Piper and Fisher, as he made a little announcement for the guests, “I know that this ceremony hasn’t been exactly what you’ve come to expect in a wedding…”

Roscoe, who was sitting by Ray and Cohort cheered, “It’s the best wedding I have ever seen!” He and Jasper pointed at each other with huge smiles and Ray rolled his eyes. 

“This guy is the worst, right?” He asked Cohort.

“This is my husband,” she said, annoyed. 

Ray chuckled and added, “The worst at being a bad guest, am I right?”

Jake put a hand on Ray’s leg and said, “Just… Shhh. Our Henry’s speaking!”

Henry continued, “And now, the bride would like to make a small gift presentation before the rings exchange.” Jasper furrowed his eyebrows in surprise. He thought that HE was the one who knew most about this ceremony, but apparently Henry and Charlotte had managed to keep something from him… New Henry and another frat boy brought in a fancy looking chest adorned in red and gold, and Henry opened it.

Charlotte said, “This is more like an extension of my vows, so you don’t feel a way about not getting me anything. I just wanted to make today extra special for you and take this time that I knew that I would have to declare in front of all of our loved ones stuff that they might not ever really get a chance to hear or see me profess again.” Jasper placed both hands over his heart and smiled. Charlotte was great at gift giving, whenever she made the time and took the effort to gift people. 

“First, there’s this,” she pulled out a trophy that looked enough like Jasper hitting a flex pose, but golden and he gasped in excitement. “This is because you’re very competitive, sometimes, even when there is no competition for you! And for this, there is none…” 

She handed it to him and he looked at it and practically screamed, “MOST PERFECT MAN FOR CHARLOTTE!” She laughed and he turned to show it off to everyone as she reached into the gift box again. 

By this time, Uncle Roscoe had gotten up and was taking photos. Jasper and his groomsmen were posing with and around the trophy like he’d really actually won something and Charlotte was tickled, because she knew that in Jasper’s mind, he really had. She cleared her throat and he passed his trophy to Fisher, “Don’t let anything happen to that.”

“We’re at your wedding. What could happen?” Fisher wondered.

Charlotte said, “This next gift is something that I had made for you to represent who you are to me and let you show that off to everyone else.” She pulled his crown from behind her back and he jumped up and down and fanned himself, then reached for it with gimme hands. Henry had forgotten how childlike and full of excitement that Jasp could be whenever he had something great in front of him, but Charlotte seemed to be super warm and soft to his less than classy reactions. Well, she knew who she was marrying, Henry guessed. It would have been silly for them to expect him to act any other way. 

“I am the KING!” Jasper declared.

“We really should’ve gotten this presented to him in the dressing rooms and let it be a story instead of part of the ceremony,” Piper told Henry.”

“Naw. It’s his special day and Char wants to really make him feel it.” Piper shrugged her shoulders.

“I guess.”

Charlotte told the guests, “In case any of you are wondering, Jasper buys and makes me really awesome gifts all the time, and I don’t usually get to have a huge show of affection for him, regularly…”

“Don’t worry about them,” Jasper said and waved a hand at the guests, “No offense,” he tacked on. She pulled out something small and red and he didn’t know what it was, but his spirits were so high, it wouldn’t have mattered what it was, because nothing could change his energy right now.

“This is an exact replica of my heart that I made with the project that I’ve been working on in my free time, for those custom made 3D printing organs? I scanned my own heart, made this replica, and then jazzed it up a little with some red crystals and a “tattoo” of your name… Because my heart is yours. You’re definitely king of that…” 

He stood corrected. His energy COULD change. He was in a dangerous state of euphoria. An indescribable overwhelming joy that rendered him motionless and speechless. She extended her hands and he saw the scripted “Jasper” on the center of what was basically her heart… He accepted it with shaky hands and moved in to kiss her. 

Henry tiny shreaked and said, “It’s not time for that! RINGS!” He called out. 

Piper collected the gifts back into the box and told Fisher, “You’re responsible for these now.” He grabbed a frat member and repeated the same thing to him. 

The ring exchange was pretty uneventful, considering, but whenever Jasper was told he could kiss the bride, he let it all out. It became uncomfortable after a while, with their friends and family all looking away awkwardly, like her parents and his mom, or morbidly obligated to stare, like Ray and Jake. Uncle Roscoe was taking photos and cheering, “THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKIN’ BOUT LIL’ NEPHEW! TRIED TO TELL Y’ALL!” 

Recessional

A crowned Jasper happily walked his new wife back down the aisle, to the chorus of his friends barking and this time, others joined in, Henry followed with the dogs, eager to get out to use the bathroom, Schwoz followed behind Coogie and Snek and Piper shook her head and took Fisher’s arm. “You didn’t keep ANY of them in proper order,” she said. “And where is the gift chest?” 

“Shhhh… This is a celebration, Old Henry’s sister,” Fisher said. They walked out with fake smiles plastered on. Then, he immediately rushed to go find the gift chest. Big Dog would MURDER him if he lost that thing!

The Reception

Henry paid for a wedding cake, because Charlotte’s Charlotte cake could simply be her bride’s cake and Jasper’s groom cake was a realistic looking lion, because both he and the wedding “are Leos,” but there was no way that Henry’s first wedding was not going to have a memorable cake whenever a lot of people ONLY accepted wedding invitations FOR the cake. So, Jasper had his, Charlotte had her Charlotte cake, and Henry ordered a multiple tier wedding cake with red, orange, and yellow edible flowers and similarly colored fruit cut and shaped like flowers or hearts. “I am so good at this!” he told himself.

They did all of that reception stuff - the garter, the bouquet and such. Henry was finally ready to relax, while Jasper and Char looked ready to… take on the world! “Good for them,” he said to himself.

“Yeah, they make it seem possible for everybody, right?” He heard a voice that he had come to recognize as “New Henry’s” voice say. He turned around and the guy smiled and asked, “You gonna get some cake?” Henry looked down to see that he was just standing there holding the cake cutter and he set it down. New Henry said, “This was good. Charlotte gave me a taste of her bridal cake and it was delicious! Gourmet, even. But nothing beats a well done wedding cake. That’s basically what I come to weddings for.”

“EXACTLY!” Henry finally found his voice. “Can you believe that Jasper wanted me to cover a table in Charlotte cakes and have THOSE be the “wedding cake?”

“I know Big Brother Big Dog, so yes. I can believe that he wanted that.” He laughed. “Good thing you changed his mind. This is one of the best wedding cakes I’ve ever tasted. I’m kinda an expert too. My mom made wedding cakes to pay for my college.”

“Really? Does she still make them, because I don’t really have an official cake person for my business references.”

“Yeah, she does. I’ll give her your number,” New Henry said. Henry nodded, excitedly and pulled out his phone. “Also, I’ll take it too… If… You want to ever… I mean, I know we’ve only hung out doing the wedding stuff and only know each other through Jasper and Charlotte, but…”

Henry’s eyes were wide and he wondered, Is this super hot dude hitting on me right now??? Because, he had not been on a date or anything in ages and even whenever he used to, it was exclusively with girls/women, but he had never really thought about a guy before and… who knows? Maybe he was into that…

“It’s okay if you don’t!” New Henry said, seeing his hesitation.

“It’s not that. I just didn’t know if you wanted to hang out as bros or if you were like… wanting to… hang out…” Henry bit his lip nervously.

“Are you interested in hanging out with a guy?”

“I’ve just realized that I’m not against it. Never really came up before. I mean, outside of Jasper, I hadn’t ever really thought of dudes in that way. But, you’re… like super attractive and if that IS what you meant, yes. And also, if you just wanted to hang out as bros, yes too. I never get to hang out. I need a life.” Henry laughed uncomfortably. 

“Cool…” New Henry smiled and asked, “You wanna dance?”

“Yes. Yes, I do!” Henry practically cheered. 

“Okay. Also… My name is Craig… You… know that, right?”

“Of course I do,” Henry said.

“Because I just told you?”

“Correct!” 

.

Jasper wore his crown for the rest of the night and Charlotte felt like he was never going to take the thing off. He kept calling her Mrs. Dunlop, then saying, “Excuse me, Mrs. JASPER Dunlop,” to which she’d think, Excuse me, Mrs. Charlotte Dunlop! But, she let him have these moments of joy. They had about a week to get settled into married life, wouldn’t be able to have a honeymoon yet, and both would have a TON of work whenever they got back to the lab and the firm. So, for now, it was just all that they could do - enjoy each other for what they were and what they had just become, together. 

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Pillars of Creation ch. 3 (baon)

Summary: It’s not a date, thank you. Edge only agreed to take Stretch to the planetarium, that was all. That doesn’t make it a date.

Prequel to the series, set after “Seeing Stars Through Clouds’

If you were ever curious how these two got together, well, here you go, their first date outing together! It’s super!

Note: Everyone’s been enjoying the fluff, right? Excellent! Hold that thought, read the tags! It’s not THAT bad but I don’t like to surprise people.

Tags: Spicyhoney, First Time, Pre-Relationship, Some Angst Regarding Past Memories, Implications of Depression, Brothers Can Be Pains, Underfell Was Not a Nice Place, Neither was Underswap Really, They Were Both In a Not Good Place, But Never Fear, Good Ending!

part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

The trip back to New New Home seemed to be much shorter with Stretch chattering next to him. The pause at the security gate only took as long as swiping their ID’s and in no time, he was pulling up to the Swap brother’s house again.

There was a light on downstairs, Blue was probably downstairs watching the new Mettaton special. It was a little too early yet to say he was waiting up for his brother, even if there was likely some truth to it.

Stretch didn’t open his door immediately when they came to a stop. He fiddled with the strap of his bag and his smile was hesitant, “hope you didn't have too awful a time. deb’s a sales shark, but it’s worth it, they have damn good coffee and—"

“Why do you do that?" Edge broke in. He kept his voice low, even, using the same care that worked on his group at the Y.

Stretch only blinked in startled confusion, “do what?"

Edge turned off the car and the quiet was stark. Coupled with the darkness, it was an illusion of privacy even with the top down. “Belittle things like that. I didn't have an awful time, at all, so why would you suggest I did?"

Had he always done that, disparaged himself? Edge couldn’t remember.

"i...uh…" Stretch shrugged. His lighter was in his bag, along with his cigarettes, but that strap was wound haphazardly around his fingers, clenched briefly tight. "better to get it out there before anyone else does, right? cast the first bone and all that.”

Edge sighed. “Stop.”

“sorry, sorry,” Stretch chuckled, “had to get it out of my system.”

He still didn’t get out of car and Edge…found that he didn’t want to ask. He hadn’t wanted to admit it the whole night but now—

“Is this supposed to be a date?” Edge asked aloud. It sounded strange, not wrong exactly, but almost forbidden, nothing he’d ever expected to say.

Stretch’s eye lights went wide, and a flood of color filled his cheekbones, tinting them ruddy orange. There were no cracks or divots in his skull, no visible injuries. Much like Papyrus and perhaps they’d all shared a name once but to Edge’s gaze, they didn’t really look that much alike.

The curves of Stretch’s skull were slightly softer, less angular and a touch slimmer, and he was—

“hey, you asked me out,” Stretch said lightly. And before Edge could revert to the childish retort of ‘you did it first’, Stretch added with hesitant care. “but. only if you want it to be? if not, it’s only two guys who could maybe be friends. i could do friends. what do you want this to be?”

Part of him wanted to push back against that, protest the unfairness of putting that choice on him.

But.

Friends. None of their previous interactions could ever be called ‘friendly’.

It brought to mind an argument they’d had some months ago. Everyone had been there, all of the skeletons in their group; Edge no longer remembered the context, but he recalled that much. They had only just arrived at the surface, everything was still in turmoil, yet Papyrus and Blue were determined to build relationships between them, and Edge agreed. Allies were necessary in this new world and he would do what needed to be done to get them.

Red and Sans were simply uncaring; they followed where their brothers led without protest, offering laconic comments and puns and little else. Stretch often did the same, but somehow, he always grated in a way that the Sanses did not. Any pointed comments about laziness beaded off Red and Sans like water from a particularly lethargic duck.

Stretch would return any insult with one of his own and his retribution was swift. He and Edge been sniping at each other all day despite Blue and Papyrus’s increasingly exhausted and pleading attempts to interfere, and the tension between them was poised to snap when Stretch waited until the others were out of earshot to murmur.

“tell you what, why don’t you wash the dust from your hands before you get back to me on what a piece of shit i am. better scrub hard, killer.”

They could joke about idiocy all they wanted but in truth Stretch was exceptionally clever; no warrior but he knew how to make words a weapon, finding chinks in armor and using them with brutal efficiency.

The others never made references to Edge’s LV; they knew, of course they knew, and past any fumbling attempts at consolation, they let it be. To have it so pointedly dragged out, a reminder of something he didn’t, couldn’t, forget, but he tried—

Crimson had washed over his vision, coupled with something very close to hate, and Stretch knew, he knew. He’d smiled lazily, not even glancing at where their brothers had yet to notice them, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers. “go ahead,” he said, softly, singsong sweet. “what’s a little murder between friends?”

He’d thought at the time Stretch knew he wouldn’t hurt him. Looking back, he wondered if Stretch hadn’t cared if he did.

In the end, Edge walked away from him and never had he been more grateful for his iron control. They hadn’t spoken much after that, not really, certainly never alone, nothing past a little sneering at movie nights and dinners, but even that had dulled, their insults eventually losing their sharpened points, and Edge never questioned why. They simply stayed away from each other and Edge hadn’t thought anything of it.

Until Stretch walked into his office last week. Tonight was the longest they’d ever been alone together, much less managed to be civil to each other and Edge was having a difficult time reconciling how this Stretch fit on top of the one he’d known before, trying to line up those edges and failing.

But he also remembered a few children from his group at the Y, the way they sometimes snarled and slapped away any kindness offered them at the beginning. Their jibes had been less unerringly accurate, but they’d been meant to wound in the same fashion.

And Edge had sent more than his share of verbal barbs back then as well.

i wasn't exactly at my best when we first got here. i'm kind of hoping people don't hold me to that first impression for the rest of my life.

Stretch was looking at him, waiting patiently, and only the way he was clutching his bag gave away any of his anxiety.

“I don’t know,” Edge said finally, the words coming slowly. The Stretch he’d seen tonight was far different than his previous experiences, but it didn’t nullify them.

Stretch nodded. “that’s fair. think about it and let me know what you decide?” He finally opened the door and slid out, and he was waving even as it swung shut, “‘night.”

He was gone in a flash and pop of teleportation.

Edge sat a moment longer, waiting. The upstairs window opened and there was a brief flicker of flame from a lighter, the tiny glow of a cigarette. Convenient to be able to bypass the questions his brother would surely have.

Blue had been less than amused when he’d discovered Edge managed to get around him to talk to Stretch by sneaking into his room. It was disconcerting how much he could suddenly appreciate Stretch’s exasperation with the way his brother tried to interfere with his life; he’d never given it a thought before, always thought Blue was in the right when he dealt with his brother—

He couldn’t tell if Stretch was looking at him and he turned the car back on, backing out of the driveway to head home.

His headlights flashed over the porch as he pulled into the drive of his own house, giving him a glimpse of Red sitting on the steps, like a sudden prophecy come true concerning controlling brothers.

Edge sighed. It was still early but he was tired, and this night out left plenty for him to think about. Dealing with Red could be exhausting when he was at his best.

There was nothing for it. Edge climbed out of the car and walked up to where Red was sprawling against the stairs. He was smoking one of the foul little cigars he’d discovered on the surface; the smell was reminiscent of a burning trash dump and Edge wondered at times if he’d chosen them specifically for that trait. Smoking had been an unaffordable luxury in Underfell, but here he could happily annoy others with passive revulsion if he wanted to.

“What do you want?” Edge asked in resignation, stepping past him to open the door.

"nothin’.” Red crushed the cigar out on the cement step, leaving a mark that Edge would be scrubbing away tomorrow.

“I don’t understand why you won’t simply move in if you’re only going to stop by to harass me daily.” Edge held open the door to allow Red inside, waiting with exaggerated patience as he shuffled through the door.

“nah,” Red said lazily. He must have been in a decent enough mood, toeing off his shoes on the front mat without being reminded. “we’re all grown up now, ain’t we, boss, we need our space. and like i want to end up like those other codependent fuckers?” Red shook his head as he wandered into the kitchen. “papyrus and his shitheel brother have that covered. you should be grateful you have me as a bro and not that piece of shit.”

Edge never quite understood the problem his brother had with Sans, but watching his brother paw through his refrigerator didn’t give him confidence in that assessment.

“bet you like having your own place.” Red took out a container and held it to the light, studying the contents.

“I might if it was ever simply mine.” Edge took the container away, pulling out a plate and dumping the contents on it, sticking it in the microwave. His brother was the only reason he even owned one and Edge leaned back against the counter to watch the plate turning within it.

Since they’d come to the surface, Edge was slowly experimenting more with cooking, moving past the simple pasta meals he’d made in Underfell, utilizing the wonder that was YouTube with mixed results. At least with his brother constantly devouring the leftovers he didn’t have to worry about his cooking attempts going to waste.

Red climbed up on a stool, propping his chin on a hand, and his grin was too wide to be comforting. “heard about your date with the honey bun, came by to see how it went."

"It wasn't…" Edge started automatically, then hesitated and shook his head.

A mistake. Red’s grin widened into something vicious. "well, come on, do we have to hide a pile of dust or not?"

"That isn't funny." The microwave beeped and Edge yanked open the door, dropping the plate in front of his brother hard enough that a little spilled off onto the counter.

Red only wiped it up with his fingers, licking them clean. "oh, it ain’t, that right? you had a good time.” It sounded like an accusation.

"He managed to not be completely unbearable for a handful of hours." Edge pointedly set a fork next to the plate.

"you had a good time!" Red crowed, plate and fork rattling as he pounded on the counter. "i knew it! why the fuck do you think i gave him that flyer?"

Thinking of that soured some of Edge’s already tumultuous mood. “Yes, I’m sure you only had my best interests at heart.”

“not very friendly, bro,” Red sighed, shaking his head sadly even as he finally gave up trying to eat curry with his bare hands and picked up the fork. “i raised you, clothed you—“

“Left me alone for days at a time. Beat me when I disobeyed you.”

That got him a hint of a glare, tainted with sardonic amusement. “i slapped you one time and you were about to get your ass in a dustpan sassing off to a guard. you call that a beating?”

“When it was the best you could have mustered, yes. And I never said I didn’t deserve it.”

“bet I could mustard something a little better now.”

Edge closed his sockets, pained. "Enough. What do you mean you ‘knew it’? Knew what?"

"oh, come on, bro, no one hates on someone the way you two do without wanting to fuck them." Red leered at him. With his mouth full, the effect was more grotesque than normal. "did you nail him in the back seat of that cockmobile of yours, or did he invite you in like a ‘civilized person’." His fork trailed sauce on the counter as he made finger quotes.

"We went to the planetarium and had coffee," Edge snapped. "There was no fucking, in the car or otherwise. I dropped him off at his own house and came home after an acceptable evening. That’s all."

"uh huh," Red studied him. "when you going out again?"

"We aren’t."

"you mean you haven't asked him yet?"

"No, I mean we aren't.” Edge wet a cloth, wiping up some of his brother’s mess. “I have enough to do without spending my time babysitting an emotional toddler."

Red snorted loudly. “you’re one to talk.”

That gave him a pause. He gave his brother a narrow look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“nothin’ i want to explain. look.” There were few things quite as unnerving as Red looking at him seriously. "he'd be a liability, you know that. but he'd be a pretty one. you think you can protect what's yours? then i say go for it. or what's the fucking point of being up here?" That seriousness faded and his brother licked his teeth, winking, “ever seen him without that sweatshirt?”

“And he asks me these things as if I could possibly be interested,” Edge said to no one in particular. He took away his brother’s empty plate and turned on the hot water, scrubbing it harder than necessary.

“paps.”

That was enough to make him still, leaning against the side of the sink, the running water a low gurgle. Red had readily set aside their previous names when they’d come to this universe and these days, they used them only rarely.

Behind him, Red sighed. "never thought i'd get the chance to say this, bro, but you're allowed to be happy, if you want. otherwise, why the fuck am i even doing all this?"

"I am perfectly happy,” Edge said, calmly. He returned to washing the dish, cleaning away any lingering sauce. “I have a job I enjoy, I no longer live with you, and I have my volunteer work. I don't need anything else."

"you probably don't. but it's okay to want something else,” he hopped down from the chair, his grubby socks scuffling against the floor. Deliberately, Edge knew, Red was only heard when he wanted to be. “now if you’ll excuse me, i'm gonna go puke. a little tip? make up your mind over the honey bun. stretch is an okay guy, but he's got issues, don't jerk him around. besides, he might not kill you over it, but i wouldn't put bets on blue."

There didn’t seem to be anything he could say to that, no protest that his brother would hear. Instead, Edge asked, “Are you staying to watch Mettaton or not?”

That got him a snort and a truly amused one at that. “you still watching that shit? c’mon, i’ll add my netflix account to your tv. they’ve got some real cooking shows.”

The door swung on its hinges as Red walked out and left Edge alone. Slowly, he set the plate into the drainer, not really meaning to think of Stretch. But he couldn’t stop remembered his hands, those slim, delicate fingers, the way he gestured when he was excited, describing the heavenly bodies above them. The soft flush in his cheekbones, the sparkle in his eye lights while he watched Edge sampling coffee, and that strange warmth rose in his soul again with the memory, lingering in his chest.

It was late after a long day. Stretch was probably asleep. One thing he’d learned since coming to the surface was that low HP Monsters weren’t necessarily lazy, they needed their sleep, although he wasn’t completely convinced where his brother was concerned.

A liability, Red called him. But a pretty one.

The Stretch of tonight was not the same as the one he’d first met. Which one was the truth?

There was only one way to find out.

Before he could think too much about it, Edge took out his phone, pulling up a contact that was only there in case of an emergency, and sent a text.

Would you like to go out again?

Almost immediately a smileyface emoticon came back in reply, followed with, yeah, i'd like that. where we going?

Edge hesitated, then sent back. I'll let you know

sounds good, i like a surprise!

He probably would like a surprise. Edge needed to think about it. Someplace else that would draw out that excitement, bring the sparkle back to those eye lights. Let him see all that bright enthusiasm again, to make sure it wasn’t a fluke.

For now, he shook that thought away and went to join his brother, reluctantly curious about these cooking shows. He supposed they couldn’t be too terrible, and it was possible he’d learn something new.

It was worth a try.

~~*~~

Read Chapter Two

Read Chapter Four