#i am opening the google doc as we speak

[wiccawrites]

u did not hear this from me but au where kimchay meet a few years later in life, when Chay is a rising musician who joins a tv competition in the hopes of making his mainstream break and Wik has made such a huge impact in the music industry that he's invited to mentor and judge said competition!!!!!! Chay's confidence is shaky at the start but HEY GUESS WHO SAVES HIM AND GIVES HIM A CHANCE AT THE LAST MOMENT AND BECOMES HIS MENTOR?

[zarnzarn]

I APOLOGISE FOR THE PERSON IM GOING TO BECOME

[bonefall]

Clanmew 101

A Warrior Cats Conlang

[ID: Two Warrior Cats OCs speak to each other. On the left is a calico with green eyes named Troutfur. On the right is a leucistic tabby with pink eyes named Bonefall.]

Urrmeer, Clanmates! And welcome to Clanmew 101!

By the end of this lesson you should have a basic understanding of the most important aspects of Clanmew, the language of the five Clans of cats living around Sanctuary Lake.

You will learn to introduce yourself, choose the appropriate pronoun for a situation, construct simple sentences, describe attributes and understand opening particles, express possession, ask simple questions, and use the Clans’ counting system. This should cover all the basics needed in order to have a simple Clanmew conversation.

Lastly, we'll close out with a vocabulary list, and some translation excercises you can do on your own!

This guide is a massive collaboration, written largely by @troutfur with all vocabulary made by @bonefall. This guide is also available in Google Doc format, and there is a lexicon of over 300 words in this Google Sheet.

We've been working on this for several weeks, and we're beyond excited to bring it to you today!

About Clanmew

Clanmew is a language that emphasizes ranks and relationships first and foremost. The rigid nature of Clan culture is baked into the very structure of their sentences, immediately making it clear what your relationship to a thing is, and where you’ve received information about a subject. 

Unlike English, in Clanmew, every line is packed with information about a warrior’s relationships and feelings towards the cats around them, turning even quick exchanges into reaffirmations of where a warrior stands in Clan society.

- Introduce yourself; the lack of a personal pronoun

Two cleric apprentices are meeting each other at a half-moon meeting for the first time. Here’s how they would introduce themselves to each other:

Babenpwyr: Pyrrsmeer! Babenpwyr. Washa-ulnyams shompiagorrl. Pryyp pyrrs? [Noncombatant-you-hello! Bonepaw. Shadow-clan moon-learning-rank. Question noncombatant-you?]

Powshpwyr: Powshpwyr. Ssbass-ulnyams shompiagorrl. [Troutpaw. River-clan moon-learning-rank]

Translated to English we have:

Bonepaw: Hello! My name is Bonepaw! I’m a ShadowClan cleric apprentice. And you?

Troutpaw: My name’s Troutpaw. I’m a RiverClan cleric apprentice.

This is a very typical introduction in the Clans. Right away these two cats establish their relationship to each other, which Clan they’re from, and their rank within it.

If you examine the way Bonepaw and Troutpaw tell each other their names, it is immediately notable how they only say them. In Clanmew there is no "first person" pronoun, no word that means "I" or "me", and similarly there is no word for the verb "to be". It is understood that if you say a word by itself, those two parts are implied. Thus Babenpwyr is both Bonepaw’s name and a full sentence that means “I  am Bonepaw”.

Similarly when Bonepaw says "Pryyp pyrrs?" There is no word for "are" or "is". "Pryyp" establishes the sentence as a question, and "pyrrs" simply means "you".

There are other nuances to the grammar to explore but first, let's skip forward a few seasons, after Troutpaw and Bonepaw change paths and meet once again under the light of the full moon.

Powshfaf: Babenpwyr, pyrrsmeer! [Bonepaw, noncombatant-you-hello!]

Babenfew: Nyar, rarrwang gryyr! Babenfew! [No, outsiderness I-contain! Bonefall!]

Powshfaf: Pryyp kachgorrl rarrs? Ssoen wowa rarrs shai ssarshemi! [Question, claw-rank outsider-you? On/over outsider-you stars they-shine!]

Translated we have:

Troutfur: Hi, Bonepaw!

Bonefall: No, use the rarrs pronoun with me. It's Bonefall.

Troutfur: Oh, you're a warrior? Congrats!

This too is a common interaction among Clan cats. No warrior ever misses a chance to boast about a newly granted name, especially to a friend who already has their own. Here we see another important feature of Clanmew grammar, the choice of pronoun. Clanmew pronouns have nothing to do with gender, but rather, how dangerous the subject is to you.

This is called…

- Threat Level How To Choose the Appropriate Pronoun

Using the pyrrs pronoun may be appropriate with a cleric, or an apprentice, or a close friend in your same Clan. But for an enemy warrior it’s inappropriate, or even rude, regardless of if they’re a friend or not. It may indicate you are underestimating them, or worse, that you two are traitorously close to each other.

Each pronoun in Clanmew has a third person ("he", "she", "they") form and a second person (“you”) form. The full list of pronouns and when to use them is given below, from least to most threatening.

(Them/You)

Wi/Wees The softest, weakest possible way to refer to a person. It is used exclusively for babies, aesthetically pleasing but useless objects, and food. “Mousebrain” is either Wiwoo (them-mouse) or Weeswoo (you-mouse).

Nya/Nyams This one indicates familiarity and closeness, moreso than with a Clanmate or a trusted ally. It is used for mates, platonic life partners, siblings, and so on. It’s sometimes used on objects that significantly change a cat’s life, such as Briarlight’s mobility device.

Pyrr/Pyrrs Used for apprentices, medicine cats, elders, exhausted warriors, and other non-combatants, but also for friends. It’s a neutral-weak pronoun. Used incorrectly, it can be patronizing, or over-familiar. This is also used on useful objects, like nests, herbs, Jayfeather’s stick, etc.

Urr/Urrs Indicates a capable clanmate, carries an implication that they are able to hunt or fight at the described moment. The term carries endearment– the old RiverClan river was referred to with Urrs, for respect. Strong, worthy prey is in this category; RiverClan refers to medium-sized fish with urrs, WindClan uses it for hares, etc.

Rarr/Rarrs Now we’re in the 'outsider’ category. These are not used on clanmates without insult. Used for things that require extra caution. A lot of twoleg things like fences and bridges are 'rarr’. The cats who live in the barn and other loners are 'rarr’. Warriors in other clans are 'rarr.’

Mwrr/Mwrrs Something dishonorable, that lives without code. Rogues are tossed into this category before proven otherwise, as are snakes, foxes, badgers, and dogs. This is a serious insult when used for a Clan cat.

Ssar/Ssas Something powerful and dangerous. Storms, floods, cars. Overwhelming and unpredictable, in a way where its power cannot be contained– can be a high compliment to the respected warriors of other clans, implies the same sort of respect you would give to a natural disaster. Commonly used on leaders of other Clans.

- Objects, Subjects, and Verbs Constructing a Simple Sentence

In English most sentences have three parts, someone who does an action (a subject), an action that is done (a verb), and something the action is done to (an object). By default English sentences order these three elements in the order, Subject-Verb-Object. But Clanmew orders them differently; Object-Subject-Verb.

Compare these sentences;

“The warriors hunt mice.” [Simple English statement]

“Mice the warriors hunt.” [Grammatical equivalent in Clanmew]

Translating this into Clanmew looks like this,

Pi woo kachgorrl urrakach. [Saw/heard mouse claw-rank clanmate-they-hunt.] Saw mouse warrior they-hunt. [Direct translation]

Let’s ignore that first word for now and just focus on the subject, object, and verb.

“Woo” in this context means “mouse” or “mice”. Clanmew makes no grammatical distinction between singular and plural, whether there is only one of the noun or more than one. Likewise, “kachgorrl” means “warrior” without specifying how many or which warrior(s) specifically. Finally “urrakach” is composed of a prefix “urr-”, the pronoun for a clanmate, and “akach” the present form of the verb that means “to hunt”. 

A specific named subject can be omitted but a pronoun prefix can never be omitted in a Clanmew sentence. Even the absence of a prefix is considered a prefix itself, meaning “I” or “me”. Thus the speaker’s relationship towards the subject is always specified.

- Describing Attributes

When Bonefall corrected Troutfur's pronoun usage earlier he was using this Object/Subject/Verb (OSV) sentence structure; "Rarrwang gryyr" means "Use the rarrs pronoun with me," but is constructed as "Outsiderness (I)-contain". “Rarrwang” itself is constructed of the pronoun “rarr” and the suffix “wang” which indicates a noun embodying a certain quality.

This sentence construction with the verb “gryyr” and a noun with the “wang” suffix can also be used to describe someone or something with any other attribute. Let’s see the following examples:

Yaowang gryyr. [Female-quality I-contain.] "I’m a molly."

The word “yaow” is part of a set with “ssuf” (“male”), and “meewa” (“genderless”).

Pi morrwowang urrgryyr. [Seen/heard fast-quality they-clanmate-contain.] "She’s big."

"Morrwo" is part of a set with "Eeb" (small) and "Nyarra" (average).

Urr’rr boe gabpwang mwrrgryyr. [Whisker-felt strength-quality they-rogue-contain.] "She’s very strong."

Now, let’s see how you can describe someone with more than one attribute!

Bab boe gabpwang om boe morrwowang rarrgryrr. [Heard-say very strong-quality and very big-quality outsider-they-contain.] "She is very strong and very big."

Bab boe gabp-om-morrwowang rarrgryrr. [Heard-say very strong-and-big-quality outsider-they-contain.] "She is very strong and very big."

These two sentences may look completely equivalent, but the constructions used here actually convey two different shades of meaning.

In the first sentence, the qualities of strength and bigness are understood to not be related to each other. The size is unrelated to her strength. Perhaps she’s big as in fluffy rather than physically imposing! The second construction indicates very much the opposite, that the bigness and strength are related attributes.

Now you may notice by this point that there’s a little word at the beginning of most sentences. It is called an…

- Opening Particle

Opening particles are used to indicate many things such as where the information conveyed is coming from, that the sentence is a question or command, or even that the sentence is a hypothetical being posited.

In statements that denote facts, there are 5 such particles, indicating the way by which this knowledge was acquired. They are:

Bab Used for information the speaker does not have first-hand knowledge of. Anything that someone has heard from someone else such as news, gossip, or a report falls into this category. Information in this category is considered the least reliable of all categories.

Yass Used for information acquired through the smell, taste, or the use of Jacobson’s organ. Metaphorically, it has also been extended to things one believes or thinks, and logical deductions. In its metaphorical capacity it is considered second least reliable.

Urr’rr Used for information acquired through one’s whiskers. Metaphorically, it also extends to emotions, intuition, and other such feelings. Considered the second most reliable source of information when used as such.

Pi Used for information one has seen or heard directly. Considered the most reliable form of information in most situations. When it comes to information acquired through multiple sources, if visual or auditory sensations are included “pi” will almost always be preferred.

Ssoen Used by StarClan it indicates information they have access to by virtue of their alleged omniscience. Used by a regular Clan cat it is used to quote the words of a prophecy or to give one’s words the same weight as StarClan’s. In this second usage, it is most often used to give blessings, such as the phrase Troutfur used to congratulate Bonefall.

The lack of a particle can in a way be thought of as a particle in itself too! This indicates that some piece of information is self-evident to the speaker. Examples of when it is appropriate to omit sentence-starting particles have been explored before: introducing oneself, correcting pronoun usage, stating one’s gender, all concerning the self.

Let’s see some examples in practice!

Bab mwrrworrwang Raorgabrrl mwrrgryyr. [Heard-say murder-quality Lionblaze he-rogue-contains.] "I’ve heard that Lionblaze is a murderous rogue."

Yass woo nyyrwang mwrrgryyr. [Smelled/tasted mouse rotten-quality they-rogue-contain.] "I have smelled/tasted that the mouse is rotting."

Urr’rr rrarpabrpabrpabr. [Whisker-felt he-outsider-pummeled.] "He pummeled (me), I felt with my whiskers."

Pi powsh pabparra Ssbass-ulnyams rarrakachka. [Saw/heard trout patrol-amount RiverClan they-outsider-hunted.] "I saw a RiverClan patrol catching trout."

Ssoen ulnyams kafyar-ul ssarshefpa. [Prophetic clan wild-fire-only they-natural-force-will-rescue.] "Fire alone will save the Clans."

There are 3 other important particles to introduce; Karrl, Hassayyr, and Pryyp

“Karrl” indicates that a statement is a command.

Bonfaf, karrl piagorrl urrsshaiwo. [Stonefur, command learning-rank you-clanmate-star-will-kill.] "Stonefur, execute the apprentices."

“Hassayyr” indicates that a statement is a “what if”.

Hassayyr om pyrrs papp. [What-if with you-noncombatant (I-)will-walk.] "What if we went for a walk?"

“Pryyp” indicates that a statement is a question.

Pryyp mew wissuff? [Question kitten they-harmless-suckle?] "Are the kittens suckling?"

We will talk more about “pryyp” and asking questions a bit later, but first we’ve got to discuss…

- Possession

The simplest and easiest way to say that a person is in possession of something is to use their name as a pronoun like so;

Pi woomoerr'pbum Yywayashaiwrah [Seen/heard food-hole-bread Harestar-owns.] "I see the tunnelbun that Harestar owns."

This is only possible for simple statements, and is possible because 'wrah' is a rare, irregular single-stem verb. But more of that will come in another lesson!

There are more common ways to phrase possession. Compare the following two sentences:

Pi woomoerr’pbum Yywayashai urrwrah. [Seen/heard food-hole-bread Harestar he-owns.] "I see that my clanmate Harestar has a tunnelbun."

Pi Yywayashai urrwrah woomoerr’pbm Hrra’aborrl urrnomna. [Seen/heard Harestar he-owns food-hole-bread Breezepelt he-eats.] "I see that my clanmate Breezepelt is eating my Clanmate Harestar’s tunnelbun."

In the second sentence, the phrase “Harestar’s tunnelbun” is constructed with the same words of the sentence “Harestar has a tunnelbun”, however, the opening particle is dropped and not repeated. The difference is that the object (“woomoerr’pbum”) has been moved to the end.

Thus the phrase “Yywayashai urrwrah” (“Harestar he-owns”) can be understood in this situation to be an adjective that modifies “tunnelbun” in the second sentence. This construction is not limited only to statements about possession, but this is the most common case in which it is used. 

You can make possession even clearer with the connecting particle, "en." For example,

Pi Yywayashai-en-woomoerr’pbum Hrra’aborrl urrnomna. [Seen/heard Harestar-’s-tunnelbun Breezepelt he-eats.] "I see that my clanmate Breezepelt is eating the tunnelbun-of-Harestar."

All of these phrasings are perfectly grammatical. The use of a shorter, more explicit construction is a function of style and clarity. It is similar to how the idea could in English be expressed equally with the phrasings “Harestar’s tunnelbun”or “the tunnelbun of Harestar”.

Next, we will learn to ask simple questions.

- Simple Questions

“Pryyp” is a very useful particle! In front of a simple statement, it makes it into a yes-no question. For example:

Pryyp Yywayashai woomoerr’pbum urrwrah? [Question Harestar food-hole-bread he-has?] "Does Harestar have a Tunnelbun?"

To answer you have a couple options. You could restate the verb along with an opening particle to specify how you know:

Pi urrwrah. [Seen/heard he-has.] "He does, I’ve seen."

But what if he doesn't have one? You can negate the verb with the prefix “nyar”! Make sure to place in front of the verb but after the pronoun:

Pi urrnyarwrah. [Seen/heard he-not-have.] "He does not, I’ve seen."

Or you could respond with your opening particle, and a simple yes or no:

Pi mwyr/nyar. [Seen/heard yes/no.] "Yes/no, I saw."

But it isn’t the only type of question you can ask with Clanmew. In conjunction with a question word in the appropriate place, you can ask more open ended questions. Let’s see an example conversation from WindClan camp:

Hrra’aborrl: Pryyp woomoerr’pbum yar urrwrah? [Breezepelt: Question food-hole-rabbit who they-have?] Yywayashai: Pi Ipipfbafba pyrrswrah. [Harestar: Seen/heard Kestrelflight he-has.]

In English,

Breezepelt: "Who has the tunnelbun?" Harestar: "I saw Kestrelflight has it."

In this construction we see some interesting aspects of the grammar. The pronoun “yar” (“who”) replaces the subject in the first sentence, but the verb is still conjugated with “urr”.

This shows that Breezepelt assumes that the answer to his question is going to be a battle-capable clanmate. When Harestar answers though, he uses the “pyrrs” pronoun, as is appropriate when talking about a cleric such as Kestrelflight. Because of how the grammar works, Breezepelt is forced to make an assumption as to what his answer would be and Harestar automatically corrects it.

Harestar could have also answered:

Yywayashai: Pi pyrrswrah. [Harestar: Seen/heard he-has.]

Which is roughly translated to:

Harestar: "He has it."

With this answer Harestar is assuming Breezepelt will be able to figure out which noncombatant has it... but remember; clerics, apprentices, elders, and even close friends of the speaker are all encompassed by “pyrrs”. It may not be as clear as Harestar thinks it is!

To ask a multiple-choice question using “pryyp”, you could do it like this:

Wishwash: Pryyp woomoerr’pbum wragyr nyom Yywayashai nyom Ipipfbafba mwrrwrah? [Heathertail: Question food-hole-bread boar or Harestar or Kestrelflight they-rogue-have?] Hrra’aborrl: Pi (wragyr) mwrrwrah [Breezepelt: Seen/heard (boar) they-rogue-has.]

Which would translate to:

Heathertail: Who has the tunnelbun, a boar, Harestar, or Kestrelflight? Breezepelt: "I saw the boar has it."

Without “pryyp”, Heathertail’s question would be understood as a statement. “Either the boar, Harestar, or Kestrelflight has the tunnelbun.” But by starting the sentence with the appropriate particle she was able to convey it was a multiple choice question.

Breezepelt can also choose if he wants to specify "boar," or simply use the rogue pronoun in this situation. Harestar and Kestrelflight are not enemies, and so simply saying "Pi mwrrwrah" would make it clear that the boar has it.

This sentence also brings up the question of pronoun agreement when there’s more than one subject. Remember this; the pronoun of the most dangerous subject always has priority.

We've come a long way and learned a lot! Next, we'll cover the complicated way that Clan cats count and measure.

- Counting

We arrive in WindClan near the end of a harrowing scene. Cloudrunner's mate Larksplash has died in childbirth, and he has been told that because of complications, the litter has a sole survivor.

Hainyoopa: Ul-arra nyams wi? Ul-arra mew-ul wi? Ul-arra arkoor shai ssarakichkar om Ul-arramew ssaryorru! [Cloudrunner: Whole-amount kin baby-they? Whole-amount kitten only baby-they? Whole-amount existence stars natural-force-they-grab and whole-fraction-kitten natural-force-they-left!] Cloudrunner: "He’s my whole kin? He, who is only a single kitten? StarClan took everything and left me Onekit!"

With these dramatic words, Cloudrunner declared his son's name; Onekit.

The nuances of this expression of grief are hard to grasp unless one has an understanding of the counting system of the Clans. Clanmew does not count with straightforward numbers; instead, they have fractions associated with a given concept.

Arra = Between 1 and 4 = Amount of pieces of prey that can fit in a mouth. Used for small quantities of concrete things. This fraction is the closest Clanmew gets to simple counting.

Rarra = 5 = Amount of claws on one paw, amount of Clans. Used to count body parts or the amount of warriors in a usual patrol.

Pabparra = 9 = Amount of a full day's patrol assignments. Used to count groups of cats, enough to patrol a territory or run a Clan.

Husskarra = 12 = Amount of whiskers on one side of the face. Used to count a day’s work, things that are being sensed in large amounts.

Shomarra = Around 30 = Amount of days in a lunar cycle. Used to count amounts of time longer than a day.

These five “fraction words” are almost always preceded by an adverb specifying how much of that amount. The adverbs paired with the amount words are:

Prra = Beginning, usually one but can be any amount under a “warl”

Warl = Quarter

Yosh = Half

Ark = Three-quarters

Ul = Entire

When they are not preceded by a prefix, they aren’t meant to be taken as an exact number, but as an estimation. Clanmew does not value exactness.

Finally there are two useful phrases that can modify these numbers:

Om owar = And another

Nyo owar = Less another

The choice of number word is based on what is being counted, not what is mathematically most convenient. “Om owar” and “nyo owar” thus are very useful phrases to express quantities over what the usual number for the appropriate counting word is. More rarely they are used to express the concept of “+1” and “-1”. This usage is rare because Clan cats don’t really care that much about precision, especially for amounts over four.

Let’s see some examples:

Ul-pabparra om owar ul-pabparra arrlur. [Whole-patrol-amount and whole patrol I-compelled.] "I sent out two patrol’s worth of cats." Karrl arlkatch praa-shomarra om owar om owar om owar. [Command will-fight beginning-moon-amount and another and another and another.] "We will fight 3 days from now." Shomarra nyo owar ssar. [Moon-amount less another they-natural-force.] "The month is a day shorter."

And now let’s see an example of numbers in a brief conversation:

Bayabkach: Pi pishkaf pabparra Hwoo-ulnyams rarrkachka. [Brambleclaw: Seen/heard red-squirrel patrol-amount Wind-Clan they-outsider-hunted.] Fofnanfaf: Pryyp arra rarr? [Brackenfur: Question amount they-outsider?] Bayabkach: Pi rarra, yosh piagorrl om yosh kachgorrl, rarr.  [Brambleclaw: Seen/heard outsider-amount, half learning-rank and half claw-rank they-outsider.] Brambleclaw: "I saw a WindClan patrol hunting squirrels." Brackenfur: "How many?" Brambleclaw: "An outsider-amount, a quarter apprentices and a quarter warriors."

In this exchange when Brambleclaw says “an outsider-amount” he means a standard 5-member patrol. When he further specifies half warriors and half apprentices he specifies about 2 or 3 are warriors and another 2 or 3 are apprentices.

Here’s another conversation that happened in the middle of a ShadowClan patrol:

Rarrlurfaf: Pryyp woo urrpi? [Russetfur: Question food you-clanmate-perceive] Uboshai: Mwyr, pi ark-arra amam pipa. [Blackstar: Yes, perceive three-quarters-amount toad hear.] Russetfur: "Do you sense/see/perceive any prey?" Blackstar: "Yes, I hear three toads."

In this sentence “ark-arra” implies three toads but there may be more. If Blackstar wanted to specify there’s three and only three toads, he could have said “ark-arra ul” (three-quarter-amount only).

There are also numerous very useful idiomatic expressions using the number systems! Let’s look at a few of them.

Gryyr ul-arra arrl! [I-contain whole-amount I-must!] "I must do everything myself!" Gryyr huskarra om owar huskarra arrl! [I-contain whisker-amount and another whisker-amount I-must!] "This is all overwhelming!"

Finally, let’s examine briefly why Cloudrunner’s lament about his kit was so despairing. 

As you can see from above “ul-arra” would mean “whole amount”. That may not sound particularly emotional but for a Clan cat, for whom life is fundamentally communal, the implication of the whole amount of the smallest possible fraction brings to mind the idea of loneliness.

The names Onekit, Onewhisker, and Onestar (“Ul-arramew”, “Ul-arrahussk”, and “Ul-arrashai”) could very well have been translated as Lonekit, Lonewhisker, and Lonestar.

- Vocabulary:

Down below you will find a vocabulary list used in this lesson.

Particles, threat level pronouns, and number words have been omitted as they are explained at length in the text above.

Some verbs used in tenses other than the present are only given in the present tense. Correct use of the past, present, and future and of different verb forms will be explored in a future lesson.

[If you're craving even more vocabulary, check out the Lexicon]

Common Nouns:

Arrkoor: The universe, existence

Baben: Bone

Bayab: Bramble; blackberry plant (Rubus fruticosus)

Bon: Stone

Borrl: Pelt, skin and the fur on it

Faf: Fur

Fofnan: Bracken

Hrra'a: Breeze

Hussk: Whisker

Ipa: Ear

Ipip: Kestrel (Falco tinnunculus)

Ipo: Eye

Kach: Claw

Kafyar: Wildfire

Mew: Kitten

Nyams: Kin

Pabparra: Patrol

Pishkaf: Red squirrel (Sciurus vulgaris)

Powsh: Common brown trout (Salmo trutta)

Pwyr: Toebean; The -paw suffix, used to indicate the rank of apprentice

Raor: Lion

Shai: Star

Skurss: Tyrant; the name of the ThunderClan warrior Iceheart when he was leader of BloodClan

Swash: Tail

Wask: Holly

Wish: Bell heather (Erica cinerea)

Woo: Mouse; Food

Woomoerr'pbum: Tunnelbun

Wragyr: Boar (sus scrofa)

Yywaya: Brown hare (Lepus europaeus)

The Clans:

Ulnyams: Clan

Hwoo-ulnyams: WindClan

Krraka-ulnyams: ThunderClan

Sbass-ulnyams: RiverClan

Washa-ulnyams: ShadowClan

Yaawrl-ulnyams: SkyClan

Ranks:

Gorrl: Rank

Shaigorrl: Leader

Arrlgorrl: Deputy

Shomgorrl: Cleric

Kachgorrl: Warrior

Piagorrl: Apprentice

Shompiagorrl: Cleric apprentice

Pronouns:

Owar: Another

Yar: Who

Verbs: NOTE: All verbs given are present tense.

Akach: Hunts

Akichka: Grapples, grabs

Arrl: Compels, orders; Must

Arrlkatchya: Fights

Babun: Beats (of a heart); In names sometimes translated as the -heart suffix such as Kafyarbabun (Fireheart)

Few: Falls

Fbafba: Flies, is flying (of a bird or winged animal)

Gabrrl: Crackles (of fire)

Gryyr: Contains

Nomna: Eats

Nyoopab: Gallops, running fast

Pabrpabr: Pummels

Pappa: Walks

Pi: To see or hear, to perceive generally

Pipa: To hear

Pipo: To see

Shefpash: Rescues

Shemi: Shines

Sskif: Wants

Ssuff: Suckles

Worr: Kills

Mwrrworr: Kills dishonorably, commits murder

Shaiworr: Executes, kills in StarClan's name

Wrah: Owns

Yorr: To leave behind

Suffixes:

-ul: Only, by itself

-wang: -ness, the quality of being like a thing.

Adjectives:

Eeb: Small

Gabp: Strong

Meewa: De-sexed, genderless

Morrwo: Fast

Nyarra: Of average size

Nyyr: Rotting; Bad

Osk: White

Rarrlur: Russet

Shem: Shining; Good

Ssuf: Male

Ubo: Black

Yaow: Female

Adverbs:

Boe: Very

Mwyr: Yes

Nyar: No

Conjunctions:

Nyo: Less, minus

Nyom: Or

Om: And, plus

Expressions:

-meer: Hello! (Always used with a pronoun prefix)

Ssoen wowa [2nd person pronoun] shai ssarshemi!: Congratulations!

Gryyr ul-arra arrl!: I must do everything myself!

Gryyr huskarra om owar huskarra arrl!: This is all overwhelming!

Try it yourself!

Below are ten open-ended exercises so you can practice and test your knowledge. Feel free to reference the vocabulary list and the main text of the lesson as much as you need. For an extra challenge you can try responding without looking at them or making new sentences of your own!

You’ve just been accepted into a Clan, and even though your leader hasn’t granted you a warrior name yet, they trust you enough to take you to a gathering. How would you introduce yourself to the Cats of the other Clans?

During a patrol you encounter the treacherous and murderous exile Liontail. He tries to appeal to your friendship, but you’re a loyal cat of your Clan so of course you won’t hear this rogue out! Correct his pronoun usage so he knows you’re a threat to him.

You approach the fresh kill pile and smell a rotting squirrel carcass. How would you warn your clanmates?

You are an apprentice and your mentor tells you to check for scents. You can make out 3 unique smells; two strange cats, and a toad. How do you report this to your mentor?

Your clanmate has trouble telling Snowpelt and Whitefur apart. They’re both blue-eyed white cats but while Snowpelt is large and a molly, Whitefur is small and a tom. How would you tell your clanmate this?

Your friend is describing the feared BloodClan leader Scourge, and says they are both small and strong. You want to interject and point out that Scourge was strong because he was small, and often underestimated. How do you phrase this?

While hunting, a rogue attacks your patrol! After the scuffle is over, you notice that the mice you were carrying are gone! Ask your clanmates who has the mice; them, or the rogue.

A RiverClan cat offers you some of the food they brought for the gathering. You know they brought both mice and trouts and you want to make sure you don’t eat any of those smelly fish they are so fond of. Ask them whether they have a mouse or a trout.

You are a RiverClan warrior who just offered a cat from another Clan some of the food you brought to the gathering. The cat in question just asked whether you have a mouse or a trout. It seems kind of obvious to you but it’s only polite to reply. Tell them that you’ve got a trout.

You are the deputy, and you are assigning patrols. At the end, you have 3 cats left over (Kestrelclaw, Hollyheart, and Snowear), and you must ask your leader which of these cats they would like to patrol with.

Once you'd tried them out on your own, you can check your answers over here!

[toriisasimp]

Sleepy Scientific Method

Egon Spengler x Reader

Prompt: During a rough night of attempted rest, you are the only one awake in the firehouse, getting a midnight snack. But, when Egon realizes you're awake and more tired than you think, he offers some help to try and soothe you back to sleep.

Warnings: None! Just an INSANE amount of fluff, and unspoken feelings!! We love to see it!

A/N: My first published Egon one shot. I have so many sitting in google docs and thought I might as well start putting them out! Egon Spengler is the loml and I love writing fluff with him. ENJOY >:)

-

It was nearing the ungodly hours of the morning, and you had been lying awake on your bunk for at least two hours now. You crane your neck to get a glimpse of the alarm clock next to your bed, and it reads 4:07 AM. Christ, you think- running a hand over your face. You sit up slowly, eyes adjusting to the darkness and seeing four lumps right where you left them, along with the sound of a distant ticking clock, the AC pumping, and Venkman’s snoring. You’d adjusted to it and naturally gained the ability to tune it out when you sleep, so you knew it wasn’t that keeping you up. 

Perhaps it was the four cups of coffee and 53 page research paper you typed up for Egon to read over on the cardiovascular effects of paranormal experiences on humans. 

Snapping out of your train of thought, you finally give up and toss the covers aside, snatching your robe and tossing it over your shoulders before trudging out of the bedroom and into the large lounge area, most of the lights shut off. You flick one on, a small kitchen light sitting above the dining table in the middle of the right corner. 

Squinting and yawning, you stand still for a moment and let your eyes adjust to the sudden change of light before shuffling over to the fridge, opening it up and peeking inside. An aching appetite, perhaps that was it. You grabbed the gallon of milk that you prayed wasn’t expired, checked it by taking a whiff and making the assumption that it was fine. 

You then opened the top cabinet, reaching up and just barely grazing the cereal boxes on the top, before knocking one over and catching it right on time. Cinnamon Toast Crunch, your favorite. You and Egon shared a love for it, while Venkman liked Fruit Loops, Ray liked Lucky Charms and Winston was a Cheerios kind of guy. 

You kept stock of all of them.

You then grabbed a bowl and spoon, and opened the box as quietly as possible and tried to inconspicuously pour it into the bowl, only making a slight clinking sound as the cereal hit the inside of the bowl. You put it back, and poured some milk, just as you heard your name being softly called from the bedroom.

Egon stood in the doorway, holding his robe around his waist with one hand as the other slid on his glasses. 

Your eyebrows raised, immediately feeling guilty for waking one of your buddies up with your midnight cravings. 

“Sorry, I’ll uh- I’ll be done in a second.”

“That’s alright.” He successfully gets his glasses on and finishes tying his robe, as he approaches you at the counter. “An early breakfast?”

“Can’t sleep.” You say while pouring some milk into the bowl.

“Have you considered melatonin?” He inquired, tilting his head.

“Doesn’t work on me.” 

“Hmph.” He hums, turning to lean his back against the counter and fold his arms, eyes scanning over the dark horizon of the rest of the floor of the fire house.

You then stir the cereal a bit, then take a bite and chew as you pick up the bowl and resume the same position as him.

“Sorry if I woke you up.”

“You didn’t.” He shook his head slightly. “I already had something on my mind and was basically awake.”

You tilt your head, take another bite of the cereal and chew while you speak. “What’s on your mind?”

He shakes his head and looks down at the floor.

“Alright.. I won’t pry. For now.”

He smirks and looks back up straight for a moment, before his eyes move over to your tired figure.

“You look tired.” He notes the prominent bags under your eyes, the lack of color in your skin tone, and the downturned position your face automatically takes, rather than the more alert, expressive one it usually does. 

You shrug and nod. “I am. But I have nothing on you- didn’t you say once, gosh, that you slept for like-“

“Fourteen minutes a day? Yeah, I quit that a couple months back. Ray said it was making me a bit hay-wire.”

“Egon Spengler? Hay-wire? Pshhhhh.” You shake your head and giggle softly, and you look down and see the empty bowl of cereal. You must’ve finished it during the conversation. 

“Very funny.” He says plainly, and you can’t quite tell with the sleep in his voice if it’s genuine or sarcasm.

You snort at his response, turning and rinsing the bowl out in the sink before setting it down into it, and sighing softly as you run your hands over your face.

Egon internally goes over the list of strategies to create sleepiness.

“My Mother always used to tell me when I couldn’t sleep to just lay there with my eyes closed. Turns out she raised an insomniac, because it never worked. I always ended up sleeping throughout the day.”

“Have you considered physical touch?” He asks out of the blue. 

You turn, the next words you were going to say getting caught in your throat. You perk a brow.

“What?” You ask, genuinely confused.

“Physical touch. I’ve looked into it myself, and some sources say receiving physical touch can lead the mind into a relaxed state, and could also lead to sleepiness.” 

You let out a puff of air, wondering where he’s going with this.

“Ray says I give good hugs.” He states, almost like a question- trying to prove himself. 

With that, you look over at him, giving a small wiggle of your eyebrow as a silent ask of approval, and he gives a subtle nod, opening his arms just enough for you to step in front of him and up to him so you’re pressed against him, your head resting perfectly against his chest. Your arms naturally fold against his chest as well, not exactly certain on putting them anywhere else.

There’s a moment where he’s not touching you anywhere else, other than where you are touching him- until you feel his arms gently wrap around your waist, his hands folding at the base of your spine. He lets out an audible breath.

You already feel your eyes start to flutter.

“Do I have to-“

“We can just stand here, if that works for you. I don’t mind silence.” He speaks softer this time, more tender- and it makes your shoulders relax.. you didn’t even notice how tense they were.

“Focus on your breathing,” He begins to quietly guide you. “Lower the tongue from the roof of your mouth. Let your eyes shut and your body relax, I’ve got you.”

I’ve got you.

Your face turns slightly further into his chest, and you inhale, taking in his scent.. it’s hard to place, but it makes you smile.

“This is quite the scientific solution, Doctor Spengler.” You say softly with a giggle, and you can feel his chest rumble beneath you as he laughs as well. 

Without another word spoken, he brings his hand up to the back of your head, resting over the bun your hair was tied up in.

“May I?”

You nod, and he gently tugs on the scrunchie, your hair falling out and resting naturally now. 

The scrunchie disappears out of his grip, and it’s replaced with the alluring sensation of his fingers running through your hair, over your scalp.. making you shiver. Your eyes are completely shut, your breaths slowing.

You’re not sure how long he’s been playing with your hair and holding you upright, but you eventually mumble.

“Egon, I might fall asleep standing up..”

And you hear his gentle response,

“I won’t let that happen.”

Sleep tugs at your eyes, your mind, and your entire body begins to give up it’s weight.

As you brink at fully being unconscious, you feel something else peck at the top of your head for a brief moment, before it slumps to the side, and you lose contact. 

But not soon before you feel your heavy legs get whisked up from under you, making you feel completely weightless. 

There’s some soft footsteps, the pause and reach as it suddenly gets more dark, and then more footsteps before you feel yourself getting eased back into your cozy bed. There’s another pause before your blankets are pulled up to rest under your chin, and another one before you feel the same rough, but gentle fingertips brush some of your hair back, and another peck at the skin of your forehead.

Some unintelligible words mumbled, or maybe they’re just sounds.. 

Before sleep finally pulls you under.

And all you dream about is the undeniable comfort and peace Egon Spengler brings you. 

-

<3

[the-s1lly-corner]

Shut In (Eyeless Jack x reader oneshot!)

Basic plot: its really cold outside, and you urge Jack to stay in your home with you... he decides to stay despite knowing full well that he will be fine out in the freezing temperatures. You both decide to do things to pass the time and stay warm! Turns out Jack can make a mean cup of hot coco, too

Extra notes: I dont usually write fanfics, and the last one I've written was a personal one from late August... so to say I'm rusty and underexperienced is an understatement! I feel this one ended up a little.. weirdly paced imo but I think I'm still happy with the end result! Dialogue I feel I could have done better on but I'm going to be nice to myself since I mostly write hc posts so this is way out of my comfort zone.. Drafted on Tumblr then sent through google docs to pick up on some mistakes I missed, briefly reread no proper proof reading imo... lets hope this isnt a train wreck + it copied back to tumblr okay!! LMAO

Brief joke about pregnancy/making a pregnancy but its like one small snippet but I know that can make people uncomfortable + implies at least one of the characters is AFAB

Word Count: 2915

Extra Admin's note: I want to say again that I am so so happy about this blog hitting 1k followers, when I first started this blog I was originally going to use it to burn time and have something to do on the side, as well as having a place to put out my cringe ideas and hcs. I never thought this many people would be interested in my dumb thoughts, but here we are! I intend to keep writing this year, and perhaps even make more non-celebratory one shots this year? Maybe? I don't know I guess we'll see the reception on this fic!

It was the middle of the night, around the middle of January. Your boyfriend and you were holed up inside your apartment, you having locked the man up with you after seeing that it was below freezing out, as well as raining. You had to practically beg your boyfriend to stay with you for the night.

Your boyfriend, who also just so happened to be a man eating demon with tar dripping out of his hollowed out eye sockets. Your boyfriend, who was currently sitting still and staring forward, the only sound in the apartment coming from the dripping of your faucet. You had asked him to come visit you, it'd been a while... and he would never ever let you go to his cabin when it's this cold out. So here you both were now.

You pat the palms of your hands on your knees, sucking in one of your cheeks and working the flesh through your jaws for a moment. You were both technically stuck in the apartment now; you didn't want Jack to go out and risk getting sick, and Jack more than likely wouldn't want you to step out for the same reasons. So, you were both confined to what you already had within the space. You were about to open your mouth to speak but Jack broke the silence first. "You're shivering, do you want me to get some blankets?", blunt and almost robotic. He was never that expressive. "Or would you like to go to your room?" He added after a brief pause, his fangs poking just over his lip before he readjusted his mouth. You were both in the living room, sitting together on the couch; the front door to your left and a view of the kitchen to the right. You thought for a minute as your eyes lingered on the kitchen for a moment. You'd already eaten, before your partner arrived... but..

"That's fine, I'm probably going to make some hot coco," You pulled yourself up, stretching up. "Powdered stuff ooor..?" Jack mimicked you. You only shook your head, earning a disapproving look from him. "What?" You questioned, but he only dismissed you. "Why don't you get some blankets, I'll handle it," and he turned on his heel to make his way to the kitchen. "Maybe put on a movie, too, your choice." He added as his voice carried off. "Are you saying I can't cook?" You called back, following after him. No answer as he tugged out a pot. "I'll have you know-" you started once more

"Do you have half and half?" He was already opening your pantry to grab things.

"No, I don't,"

"Heavy cream? Whipping cream? Whatever it's called..." He mumbled as he placed various ingredients on the counter. Cocoa powder, vanilla, salt and sugar. You only nodded, and as he was about to begin working he paused. "Do you want anything else in it? Cinnamon? Nutmeg?" He paused and through gritted teeth, "Coffee?"

It was almost midnight, of course he would be opposed to you having caffeine so late.

"Cinnamon is fine," You watched him get to work. He measured everything out; even mixing the heavy cream with some milk to make a substitute for half and half.... was that really all it was? You weren't sure what you expected it to be, if it weren't..

He pulled his head up and stared at you. It was then that you noticed he had actually taken his mask off and set it at the end of the counter and out of the way. The black ooze dripping from his eyes was slow and posed little threat to dripping into your drink. He had a fistful of napkins on standby to dap his face dry should the flow quicken. "Aren't you going to get the blankets?"

You pat your hands on your thighs, pausing... watching him. His body had a warm glow on him from the old light bulb in the ceiling; it flickered every now and then. Under the yellowed light he almost looked healthy and alive, though there was no glint where his eyes should have been. His sharp nail tapping on the counter brought you back to the moment, blinking a few times. "Yeah.." you mumbled, defeated at the chance of making a drink for yourself stolen from you. But was that so bad?

You backed out of the kitchen, dragging your feet across the floor. Your apartment was.. a little on the smaller side so within a few steps you were in front of your bedroom door. You didn't really pay much attention to your surroundings as you shuffled through the blankets on the bed.. eventually you settled on just grabbing an arm full and waddling back to the living room, dumping everything you had grabbed onto the couch.

The house smelled of cinnamon and chocolate.. with a hint of vanilla.

Turning your gaze to the tv, your eyes scanned across the DVDs you had stacked messily. Nothing sounded good. "Is there anything you want specifically?" You called out as you settled yourself down criss cross in front of the tv and pulling all the cases onto the floor next to you. "Movie wise," You added as you pulled the first case into your hands. The DVD collection for Child's Play.. you had gotten it a few weeks ago, finding it on sale at your local store. You still hadn't popped it in to watch..

"I have.. Chucky, uhm..." You shuffled for the next case. "All the movies by the way.. I have that and.. most of the Friday the 13th movies," You called out. No answer, the only sound coming from the kitchen was the noise of a whisk gently being stirred. "I don't have Jason goes to hell... But!" You pulled out a third case with the Nightmare on Elm Street DVDs. "I DO have Freddy vs Jason," You mumbled and spread the three disks on the floor in front of you. Most of the disks you had, you noticed, were mostly older slasher movies. Still, Jack hadn't answered you. You pull yourself to your feet and trudge back into the kitchen. His back was to you, too preoccupied with the stove... He hadn't noticed you, not yet. An idea blossomed in your head, a smirk pulling itself across your lips. You steeled yourself, trying to force yourself to stop shivering.. Jack was always paying attention to his surroundings, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

You take a step forward and he still doesn't notice your approach.

Another step.

And another.

Jack wasn't the tallest, in fact if you wanted to you could rest your chin on his shoulder... and that's what you ended up doing, while wrapping your arms around his thick waist. You could feel his body seize up just a little bit against you, before relaxing. "You didn't answer, what sounds good?" You pulled your eyes down to look at the pot. Your drink was nearly finished. You view rocked as your boyfriend shrugged, still silent but the twitching of his pointed ears let you know he was listening.

"Anything's fine," Another shrug as he cuts the heat. "You're the one cooking for me, you get to pick the movie," You insisted. He paused mid-whisk, letting out a soft huff. Suddenly he spun around, his face just a few inches from yours. In the dimmed light his eye sockets seemed deeper, it's black ooze lazily dripping down his cheeks. You noticed the smudges on his face, from wiping the streaks. You briefly wondered what it was like to sleep with them, but your thoughts were cut short as he pulled a blackened and clawed hand to your hair; tucking a lock behind your ear. "How does...." He paused, sucking in his teeth. He looked almost embarrassed. "Bride of Chucky sound?"

"What? Want to study the characters again so we can dress up again this year for Halloween?" You tease. You had convinced him a few months ago to dress up with you. With him as Chucky, and you as Tiffany... It had taken some begging and convincing but you ultimately got him to agree. Although you didn't go out to get candy, you were both fine with staying inside watching movies together in costume. It was also that night you got him to watch the movies..

His ears darkened, before he scoffed. "No... actually this year I was thinking of..." He took a long pause, visibly scraping his brain for names of characters, before seemingly giving up. "Look I don't watch many movies I don't know any.. characters.." He grimaced, before gently pushing you off of him so he could turn his attention back to the hot cocoa. "We've still got nine months, more than enough time to come up with something..." You shrugged, then smirked. "Not enough time to make a Glen... or Glenda," You teased before turning on your heel. You held back a snicker as you heard Jack splutter, finally processing what you had just said to him.

"W-"

"I'm gonna go ahead and put in the disc, I'll leave it paused for you," You cut him off, still grinning to yourself as you kneeled down to do as you had said.

Soon enough Jack walked into the room with a mug, as well as a platter of cookies. "You didn't have to," You mumbled as you eyed the treats, but he only waved you off as he placed the plate and mug onto the coffee table. "You don't have to eat them, but I figured you might want a snack while watching the movie," He mumbled. You took the mug, and swirled the drink inside of it. "I hope I didn't put in too much cinnamon," Jack added as he watched you. He leaned over and started the movie.

You took a sip, smiling a little as the warmness crept in. "You did good, probably the best hot cocoa I've ever had." You offered a grin to him. "That has got to be the fakest compliment I've ever heard," Jack shot back, though you could see the corners of his mouth turning up just slightly. "Oh, I'm sorry! I believe this is the most decadent and satisfying beverage I've had ever been graced with in my life, and-" You began, only for Jack to hush you. "I'd rather you throw it on me, don't... say words like that again," He grumbled as readjusted himself into the couch. You took a sip and shrugged, "It's just absolutely immaculate," and he lightly smacked you on the arm. "I'm never making anything for you again," He snorted, before turning his attention to the movie.

You weren't going to lie, you felt a little bad treating yourself to the cookies, knowing Jack was unable to eat them without upsetting his stomach. Being a man-eating monster must really be hard. You purse your lips, and shoot a look at him from the corner of your eye. He must have been doing the same, because he turned his head to look at you. "Do you want to do something else?" He asked lightly, his grin from a few minutes ago already faded. "Do you ever miss eating.. food?" You asked before you could stop yourself. He didn't bother pausing the movie, instead he just fell silent and stared down, into the space between the two of you on the couch.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up, I know it's a touchy subject for you," You mumbled and put the mug on the table. You sucked in the air between your teeth, flicking your eyes up to the movie, before bringing them back down to your lap. It stayed like that for a minute before Jack broke the silence. "I mean... yeah, I do. But at least I don't have to eat every day like you do, means I can have more time to do what I want," He said. Clearly, he was still bothered, tip-toeing around the big.. thing about him. The air was still tense and thick, all of the previous joking gone now. It was nearly unbearable. Nearly.

"You know," Jack began after a few more seconds of silence when you didn't reply. "I've never tried cinnamon in hot cocoa, I didn't know that was a thing people did," He was changing the subject. "You haven't?" You asked, raising a brow. He eyed your mug, but you both knew there was no way he was going to take a sip.

"It's really good," You mumbled, and took the drink, "The combo, I mean," You added. He hummed, patting his knees lightly. You swirled the drink again, watching the... what was it called? Those lighter swirls in the drink.. Did that have a name?

"You've had hot cocoa before, right?" You asked. He hummed again, nodding his head. "Well.. the cinnamon makes it warm. Taste wise.. It makes it.." You took a sip and thought for a minute. "Richer, I guess? It's hard to explain," You muttered, then looked back at him. You tore your eyes back down when you saw he was looking right at you, totally hooked onto your words. "I hear nutmeg goes good in it, too.. but I've only tried nutmeg and chocolate together in baked goods," You shrugged. "You did really good with this, you know... not too much cinnamon.. not spicy, at least." You smiled. He nodded, before turning back to the movie.

"Woody, I hear people describe cinnamon like that," He leaned back into the couch, a dull pop came from his back.

"Woody," You repeated, then took a large sip of the hot cocoa. You put the mug down onto the table, and leaned into your boyfriend as the warmth crept and settled into your bones. You weren't even paying attention to the movie, your mind was now occupied with how tired you were. Your eyes slipped up to the clock on the wall, It was nearly one in the morning. Had it only been an hour since Jack walked himself into the kitchen?

You lean deeper into Jack, not caring about his body's natural chill. His clothing still smelled a little like the cocoa from earlier.. "Gotta invest in some cologne, you smell nice like this," You mumbled into his arm. "The cinnamon?" He asked, not looking down at you. "No.. the cocoa, I mean cinnamon would be a nice touch... but you don't seem like a sweet smelling guy, do you?" You muttered. "Are you already getting tired?" Jack asked, and he leaned over you to grab the remote, pausing the movie. You muttered, the heat of the hot cocoa doing way more than you expected on the tiredness you didn't notice you had. "A little," You shrugged, "But we can still try to finish the movie," You offered, but he shook his head. Of course he would, as much of a hard ass or party pooper he came off as, he was going to make sure you were going to get your rest.

You put your hand in his, the one that had the remote.. you unpaused the movie. He paused it, and you unpaused it again. It kind of kept up like this before Jack conceited and kept it playing, although he did lower the volume.. The subtitles were already on, though. "I win," You smirked up at him, before crawling into his lap. You placed your head on his chest, pausing when you felt him stiffen before relaxing against you. His heart beat for a moment before settling to its barely there rhythm. For a minute you thought about asking about his heart, as far as you knew he explained himself like he was becoming a walking corpse... how does that work?

You decided against it, you already asked about him earlier.. and besides, your mind was already beginning to blank as Jack reached to the side of the couch, and turned the lamp off.. It was dark now. It was still raining, you could more clearly hear the drops outside now that the movie was turned down. Plus, Jack was running his fingers through your hair, lightly massaging your scalp. It wouldn't be long until you finally gave in and fell asleep.

"Are you going to still be here in the morning?" You asked, melting into his chest as he hummed in response. "Plan on it, I still need to clean up the kitchen," He added as he curled your hair around his hand. "It'll still be cold in the morning," He added, "I need to make sure you bundle up before you go out for work," He added. "I'm not that dumb," You muttered and lightly slapped his arm. You swear, if he still had his eyes he would have rolled them.

"How do you see? I know you're not.. a normal person, but," You blurted out, lifting your head. He pushed your face back down, shushing you. "Sleep," He ordered, before loosening his hold on you a bit so you could get comfortable. It wasn't an order but it may as well have been with how your body started to loosen into him within the next few minutes, quickly snuffling out your curiosity and questions.

He'd still be here in the morning, you could pester him then. After all, it's what he signed up for when the two of you started to date one another..

[welcometololaland]

almost uploaded a picture of my bank statement instead of this header! happy days!

thanks for the tags @hippolotamus @kiwiana-writes @happiness-of-the-pursuit @rmd-writes

@nancygillianmvp @terramous @tellmegoodbye @freneticfloetry @beautifulhigh

@orchidscript @myheartalivewrites and @strandnreyes (don't think that was a real tag but i'm taking it anyway to force you to love me).

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

49 (last time it was 46 but i feel like that isn't enough of a difference? disappointed in myself dfhskjh)

2. What's your Ao3 bodycount word count?

1,119,086 which does include some co-writes, but I also have around 200k of unposted WIP in my google docs so i'm counting it (including a fully written fic - someone put their hands around my neck and force me to edit it PLEASE).

3. Which fandoms do you write for?

red white and royal blue, 911 lone star, top gun maverick (flirting with winter's orbit always)

4. Top 5 fics by kudos?

the order of these has changed but not the identity:

Speak for Yourself (RWRB) (you know when eminem said he'd never be able to top My Name Is? this is my version of that)

Fifty First Dates (RWRB) (oodie agenda reigns supreme)

The RIng-In (Lone Star) (otherwise, lone star is in danger of being eviscerated from this top 5 lmao)

(Not) A Cinderella Story (RWRB) (NDAs are hot, apparently)

Cursed is a State of Mind (RWRB) (cursed caffeine is the main drawcard let's not lie)

5. Do you respond to comments?

i try my absolute best to. i am currently really behind and i apologise for that (the problem is, i reply to comments before i post anything and i haven't posted anything in ages).

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

serious answer - Contaminated

my answer - oh baby i'm a fool for you because we never find out if they actually watch twilight and that's a damn shame

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

literally everything else - i don't really do open endings or sad endings! in the words of the great philosopher, skepta: "nah, that's not me."

8. Do you get hate on fics?

i used to, but i haven't in ages! thank god for that.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

yes, although i have to say i've been moving away from pwp lately. i feel my best smut is written into longer fics where the sex serves a plot or characterisation purpose within the frame of the overarching narrative.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

yes, a RWRB/LS but i never finished it. ALTA is a veronica mars inspired tarlos fic which kind of feels like a crossover at times.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not to my knowledge :)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes! Phonography (Lone Star) has been translated, as has Baby, Make Your Move (Lone Star) and Warm Whispers (Lone Star). I'm very grateful to the incredible people who have made these translations happen - you are so talented.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

yes, many with @dustratcentral. I also wrote a chapter of a co-written fic with a whole bunch of incredible RWRB authors called never the same twice.

@rmd-writes and I have created (Un)Professional Services and (upcoming) Call Me (By Your Name).

The Rainbow Fish was co-written with @strandnreyes.

I love co-writing so much and I am always open to anyone who wants to give it a go!

14. What's your all time favourite ship?

me + my unposted wips.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

probably the aforementioned crossover which was apparently also my answer last time.

16. What are your writing strengths?

i'm allergic to giving myself compliments but i would say maybe dialogue/banter and worldbuilding.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

keeping things short. also, exposition.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

kinda scared to because i don't speak any other languages and i'm so hesitant to annoy my very talented multi-lingual friends with my annoying questions.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

we don't talk about that.

20. Favourite fic you've written?

probably still Love Game because the experience was just so amazing and i never wanted to stop writing it.

heaps of people have already done this so leaving an open tag and also a couple of suggestions under the cut but apologies if you've already participated or been tagged 7 million times:

@bonheur-cafe @theghostofashton @thebumblecee @indomitable-love @eclectic-sassycoweyes

@tailoredshirt @vineofroses @liminalmemories21 @mikibwrites @birdclowns

@ladytessa74 @basilsunrise @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @rosedavid @sanjuwrites

@alrightbuckaroo @three-drink-amy @marjansmarwani @dumbpeachjuice @doublel27

@lemonlyman-dotcom @blueink3 @ambiguouspenny @clottedcreamfudge @emmalostinwonderland

@sail-not-drift @inexplicablymine @celeritas2997 @cricketnationrise @reyesstrand

@goodways @carlos-in-glasses @heartstringsduet @sunshinestrand @sherryvalli

[writingfool001]

No Difference

 

Author’s Note: Hi, it's been a while since I update. My google doc I had full of some of my WIPs got deleted so I lost some of the previous request.

Request:

 Due to the culture of looking down on half-bloods in the wizarding world, I can picture Newt!MC sympathizing with Sebek about his internalized racism as they had seen multiple Slytherins act the way he does in order to hide the fact that they're either a half-blood or a muggle born. It'll be touching if while Newt!MC is explaining their world to Sebek they touch upon the blood status subject and bring up example of half-bloods being just as exceptional as any regular magician.

Pairing: Newt!MC x Sebek (Platonic or romantic)

Warning: Newt!MC is based off of Newt Scamander, mostly dialogue, short.

You've met many people on your travels, different races, ethnicities, and so on. Compared to your fellow wizard, you would treat everyone you met with decency unless you saw a valid reason not to. Ever since you arrived at NRC, there were few who didn't let anyone doubt their magical abilities due to their background. Yet there was a certain first year, in your flying class, who often called you human and would talk about humans or about Malleus being superior. Overtime, you learned more about his lineage and how he himself was half human himself which made you thought perhaps that is what fed into his usual behavior. 

“Sebek, I didn’t know your dad was a dentist?” I started out as we were studying. 

“Why would that be important as of right now?” he stated, looking up from his homework. 

“You always ask me questions; wouldn’t it be fair if I could not do the same to you?” 

He glared a bit before speaking with a slight hesitation and suspicious tone. 

“...yes, he is.” 

“Such a fascinating job, he must be quite special.” 

“He’s just a magic-less human dentist.” 

"So what, his magical ability does not change the fact that he is special. I presume your mother hold him in a high regard." 

"She does, though I do not entirely understand why/" He grumbled as he wrote out his notes. 

"She likely saw him for who he was rather than the lack of magic." I suggested, only for him to scoff at it. 

"That does not take away from the fact tha he does not have magic." 

"That does not make him any less important besides, do you care about having magic that much?" 

"Yes, or else I would be weak, it would've been easier if my father wasn't magicless." 

It was a little surprising to hear Sebek be somewhat open with you considering how he's usually yelling at you and such throughout the day, but it was nice. It also sowed some of his insecurities about himself. 

"There have been many extraordinarily talented people I have met. Many of them being half-blooded magicians that have been more exceptional than the sum purebloods magicians." You start "I do not judge on one's magical capability or who they're related to which you should learn to do as well. Each to their own." 

“You won’t see me differently for my blood?” He asked as you shook head before he let out a hearty loud laugh. “Of course not, for I am Sebek, skilled magician and retainer of the great Malleus Draconia!" 

It's good to see somethings don't change. We went back to studying and later on, you saw Sebek still prideful and his loud self, but shown a little brighter.

[effervescentdragon]

Why Sebastian Vettel and Nico Rosberg are the same person in a different font, an essay by a delusional F1 girlie

I keep saying that I am going to write an essay about how Nico Rosberg and Sebastian Vettel are basically the same person in different fonts and on the opposite ends of the scale one day. Guess what friends, that day has come. Thank you Misa @blorbocedes you absolute fucking bastard for putting so much Seb and Nico content on my dash that I actually opened a fucking google doc so that I can do this properly and write it. Imma count this as preparation for actually having to write proper analyses for my uni classes, so im *technically* not wasting my time on two German twinks id love to fuck at certain points in the life. 

Disclaimer: Half of this is bullshit and projections. I’ll let you decide which part, because if you’re reading this, you are definitely at least as delusional as me, who’s actually writing this shit. Dont come to me for references, do your own research. :) 

Unto the fucking breach. 

The first thing I have to say is they’re both German, but not the same. Nico is half-Finnish, and I would blame that flavour for differing him from say, the way Michael Schumacher and Sebastian Vettel are similar, but on the other fucking hand, the Finnish part in him comes from KEKE FUCKING ROSBERG, so I don’t know how that would actually be true. ANYWAYS.

Nico was born to a WDC insane (affectionate) father and girlboss of a mother in Monaco (in Germany, but was raised in Monaco dont come at me) as their only child. Sebastian Vettel has like, a billion siblings (four, i think, two older sisters and a younger brother) and was also born and raised in Bumfuck NOwhere, Germany (Heppenheim, but who’s counting). So the first thing we have here is them being annoying bastards, but in a different way. Nico had like one friend in his life (Lewis Hamilton, and I aint touching that with a ten foot pole lest I descend into absolute madness), and Sebastian had two older siblings and according to everyone and their mother, he was always the outgoing friendly little shit that we love. So like, we have competing for attention with older siblings vs competing for attention with whatever rich people do in monaco. Do you see where I’m going with this? The only way Nico was forced to learn to share was through his friendship with Lewis, while Seb was probably raised to share everything, so he probably wanted to have things for himself (projecting here as one of the youngest in the group of cousins). Also, Keke chose which languages Nico would learn, considering which ones are good for his racing career. Im pretty sure Seb went to public school. There are differences in their status which i think show themselves pretty nicely as they grow up and become the bitches we love <3 it even shows itself in the way they approach environmental issues today. Nico goes on the stupides, most capitalist dumabss show and only invests into some rich people dumbass “umweltschutz” start-ups which are literally so fucking useless my god, and what Seb does is try to bring renewable fuels and whatnot into F1 and talk about climate change and call people out, while still sometimes saying extremely stupid shit. Nico does think it’s laudable tho xD 

ALSO. Very important. They are both Cancers, which is the sign ruled by the moon which means its all about emotions and feelings, but Nico is a June Cancer, and Seb is a July Cancer. If you dont know what that means, lemme give you a quick breakdown, since i am definitely a completely normal person about this. Short answer is - June cancers are otright manipulative sons of bitches; July cancers are crybabies. Which I do believe fits perfectly in how they manipulate girlboss gaslight malewife their way through their careers. Nico never shied away from outright manipulation, speaking openly about the mind games and how it was with Michael (imma come to Michael. Gods do I have THOUGHTS about Michael ugh but we gotta go through some other stuff first), while Seb always, fucking always played the “wide-eyed, he-ran into me, bottom emoji, i didnt see him” card, and batted his eyelashes, and fucking got whatever he wanted. MULTI 21 MY BELOVED. Anyways, imma spare you the talk about decants and shit, but Seb was born early July EXACTLY ON THE BORDER, and Imma let you decide if he is 1st or 2nd option. I know which one im aiming for. SO. JUNE CANCERS/early july, 1st option. They have a strong moon influence in their sun sign, and are the purest form of cancer sun sign and embody the strengths and weaknesses of the sign the most (google that shit for more info), in that they are both highly empathetic and emotional, nurturing, giving off mommy energy, but can also be extremely manipulative, they hide things very well since moon IS the master of deception. 2nd option, 10th-20th degree of cancer, is early July cancers. And their cancer sun is influenced by pluto, and they have scorpio energy to them, which means they are intense, they can be dark, they can be very mysterious and hiding things, obsessive and manipulative, and they bring heavy emotional energy to the table while being extremely empathetic themselves. Basically, they are emotional bitches in the same way but in sorta different fonts. :)

So anyways, you decide for yourselves which one Seb is :) 

shout out to bff’s bf for debating cancers with me and explaining astrology to the degree i never thought i’d wanna hear about, but this IS an essay and i DO need sources. So there. 

pic credits: @niamh90 and this post

Lets go to racing. Nico’s dad made a bloody team in karting so he and Lewis could continue to race. Seb. Didn’t really have that. Yadda yadda, something about connections vs doing it all yourself on your own merit. Now dont get me wrong, im all for nepotism, and Nico is an insanely good driver in my opinion, and Seb did use BMW ties to get to test for Williams. They both also won some series that im not sure i understand, the fuck is GP2 and German cups, im not looking into that if i dont have to, bottom line is, they are both super good drivers. However, there are all these differences between them and the way they’ve even come into F1 that I think push them to the opposite sides of the spectrum despite them being the same person in their basics. If you want to know more, google their racing careers up until F1 and you’ll see what I mean (i dont feel like re-doing a deep dive about junior series and shit and who won what bcs i will then never be able to forget it and i dont need that info cluttering my brain). Onto the F1.

Nico came into F1 after winning whatever GP2 is, in 2006, driving for Williams (he also refused McLaren in 2007, good on him, fuck McLaren on principle). Seb (properly, not just to replace Kubica) came into F1 in 2007 mid-season, when RBR did a well-known and beloathingly repeated signature move of replacing drivers mid-season and he drove for Toro Rosso aka Baby Bull Team. He also fucking crashed into Mark Webber in 2007, thats not relevant to anything except that I personally think it’s hilarious, so honorable mention for Seb doing terrorism on Webber even before they were teammates. :) Anyways, Seb wins Monza 2008, Williams is shit. Whatever. All of that is secondary, because we now come to the biggest point of contention, the ultimate important thing, the gem of the collection, the one and only and the most important person in this essay (dont @ me idgaf you know it’s true) - MICHAEL FUCKING SCHUMACHER. 

:)

Michael Fucking Schumacher. Sebastian Vettel’s absolute ultimate idol since he was a kid (three M’s, anyone) and Nico Rosberg’s teammate in the newly minted Mercedes Team in 2010, after his switch from Williams. Look at that face. I’d let him terrorize me ngl. He is adorable.

He is also absolutely unhinged, and Sebastian fucking adores him.

Basically, what we have in 2010 F1 season is Sebastian Vettel terrorizing his older teammate  Mark Webber with his presence and results in Red Bull, and Michael Schumacher terrorizing his younger teammate Nico Rosberg in Mercedes after his sabbatical. Schumi was there to fuck around, and boy did Nico find out. On the other hand, Michael took one look at German twinks available on the grid, Seb smiled at him and batted his eyelashes in hero-worship whilst being a little shit, and Michael went “yeah okey I like this one, fuck the rest”, and he took on a friend-mentor-whatever you want to call it i dont judge role with Vettel while absolutely mindfucking Nico. If you look at any press conference ever where Seb, Michael and Nico are there, Nico is always their bullying target. If you add Webber, you get double the terrorism. Michael looks on as Seb says/does stupid shit and then turns around with the biggest “did i do weel senpai? Did you see? Did you?” fucking heart eyes ever. Meanwhile poor Nico has to deal with a 7 time wdc in the garage and with mind games constantly, which Michael is probably teaching Seb on the downlow, or just by, yakno. Diffusion principles or sth. I’d almost feel sorry for Webber, but I hate that guy. Here’s pics of these lovely teammate pairings, bcs why not. 

Do you see what I mean? :) (merc pic credit goes to @smoothoperator-55​ and this post) 

I mean, Nico tries. He really does, and he actually succeeded in his mindfuckery with Lewis later, on account of knowing him better than anyone in the world, really. But during the RBR golden era of Vettel championships, he has no chance. Literally none. As annoying as he can be, he is literally just being bullied by these two insane Germans. And I love it.

(again, pic credit to this post)

Wait, I lost the plot being distracted about Seb and Schumi being the mean girls of the grid. I mean look at them. Fuck. Where was I?

Oh yeah okay. So. What happens is, Seb is on top of the world, having the friendship and love and support of his idol. Nico isn’t. Niki sees this, he steps in. Michael retires. Nico’s best friend, a kid more talented than anyone in the world and a WDC with McLaren already comes into the team. FUN TIMES ABOUT TO COMMENCE. Kinda. Not really. I won’t go into the details of all that, bcs chances are, if you’re reading this, you fucking know already. Lewis and Sebs friendship developing especially after Nico left, Seb at Ferrari fuckery while Nico was gathering the pieces of his broken heart and doing commentating, Seb using any and every opportunity to fuck with Nico by being all touch with Lewis and then still defending Nico after all; all of that, you probably know better than I do. I will, however, draw some more parallels bcs this is almost 2k already and I need to eat.

- Seb said Kimi was his only friend on the grid when he started; we know Nico’s only friend in racing was Lewis;

- Both Nico and Seb married their high-school sweethearts and both are paragons of integrity in this (me being convinced that brocedes and princess cake and Seb/everyone he made eyes at are canon should not be counted as facts here);

- They are both so fucking annoying in interviews. Like any interview you watch, they are so fucking annoying, and when they’re with each other, they are even worse;

- they both played mind-games extraordinaire with their teammates and managed to beat them on account of those (tho id argue Webber sucks tbh but i do hate that guy);

- they are both passionate about the same cause - environmentalism, but in diametrically opposed ways. While Nico does DHDL and drives around and invests in electric cars, Seb, with no media presence, wears those oversized t-shirts of his and rides fucking vans to european circuits;

- they have both definitely banged at least one of their teammates;

- they are both rich white men with some concerningly western-biased opinions but whatever, we stan anyways (whilst being critical of that in rl if not on our delusional tumblrs).

I may add some more stuff if I remember it, and I may even research it properly next time, but for now I think this is enough. I don’t even know what this is, except me word-vomiting about my favorite German twinks to distract myself from obligations and giving myself an excuse to search for pretty pictures.

Here’s Seb and Nico, so we end this with a high. I know I get a high from them. Akira out. 

some sources, bcs im not an absolute heathen, also all the pic credits i didnt tag specifically go to pinterest:

x x x x x 

[fyonahmacnally]

20 Questions More

This is a deeper and more detailed version of the 20 questions for AO3 fanfic writers. Thanks to @casualsavant for the tag. I'm not even sure I did the first 20 Questions round, but rules be damned.

1) How do you keep getting ideas for your ship/fandom?

Well, like anything I write, I get ideas from everything around me - they come to me from dreams, something I see, from random prompts, etc. As most writers know, we are simply the vessel, it's the brain goblins that tell us what to do.

2) Which authors inspire you in your fandom, and why are they so freakishly good?

Geez, we have so many in the Supercorp/Supergirl fandom. I'm not even sure that's a fair question. HA. I will inevitably leave someone out, but here are a few of my favorites @searidings, @jazzfordshire, @chaotic-super, @lovesastateofmind1, @innamorament0, @someoneyouloved93, @lostariels, @luthordamnvers, @thornedrose44, and @fazedlight. I read such a variety of genres, tags, and tropes that I will give almost anything a chance so the authors I read will vary. There's oh so many to choose from in this fandom and the vast talent is beyond imagination!

3) Aside from the characters of your main ship, who are the characters you love to write?

Hmmm, I like writing Sam, Andrea, and Jack. The rest of the main cast is fun too, but those three characters are fun to explore in fics. The shenanigans they get into together makes it easy to play with.

4) Are there pairings or tropes you know for sure you'd never write about? Which ones?

Karamel, Lames, and Kalex. I am pretty open-minded, but those are my hard limit ships. To each their own. It's not my thing at all. I'm pretty open to tropes, too. Haven't had a chance to explore too many yet.

5) What is your writing process and why is it cursed?

I'm not sure how to answer this one, really. It can vary depending on what's going on in my life and how the idea came about.

Generally speaking, I get an idea, outline the basic premise of the story (usually in a word or google doc), do whatever research is needed (longer fics), and just start writing (or staring at the outline and empty doc). That's writing too, ask any writer. LOL

One shots tend to be more like: get idea, sit at desk thinking while blank doc stares back at me tauntingly, look out window, turn back to blank doc, write three sentences, back space all three sentences, look out window again, write three more sentences, repeat previous steps, then the brain goblins take over and suddenly it's 4 hours later, somehow there's several thousand words staring back at me.

6) What is your favorite part of your writing process?

Because I am a huge nerd, the research. I love to research the things I write. Not all of my stories require it, but when they do, I dive right in. Completing the story is a big one too. The anxiety and excitement that comes with yeeting something into the ether is indescribable.

7) What’s the weirdest thing you’ve had to research for a fic?

Weirdest thing...pagan rituals and ancient runes or bondage/fetish clubs in Amsterdam. There is some really interesting things out there. I learned a lot during that time.

8) Is there a particular writing rule you struggle with (grammar, spelling, tense, reality in general)?

I think tense is one that slips on me. I try to catch them all during rereads and edits, but those little bastards are sneaky.

9) What was your hardest scene to write so far and why?

The panic attacks and abuse scenes relating to Lena in Carterhaugh-Wood Academy (CWA). Lena is my absolute favorite character and writing anything that causes her harm hurts my soul.

10) Have your characters ever done something you didn’t expect, changing your plot completely?

Is water wet? My characters always do what the brain goblins want despite my initial protest. I am just here to convey the message, after all.

11) If you could converse with any of the characters, who would it be and why?

Oh, hands down, Lena. I wouldn't pass up a chance to speak with any of them, let's be real, but Lena would be #1.

12) What are some of the tropes or themes that you find yourself returning to in your writing?

I am by nature a fluff and happy-ending writer. However, I am working on an angst with a happy ending fic at the moment. The tropes I have written so far have been limited to friends to lovers and a little light angst with happy ending. I'm still exploring other things. Hopefully 2024 will be the year I can flex my writing muscles and expand into new territory.

13) What's your most important resource as a writer?

Friends and other writers. Nothing beats a good brainstorming session with writer pals. I also like to do improv writing to boost creativity. You never know where a story will go when that happens.

14) Can you share some of your strategies for editing and revising your work?

The strategy depends on the story. For longer fics, I have a few writer friends that help with reading over it and helping with typos, grammar errors, and helping fluff up the places that need it. For one shots or shorter fics, I will let it sit for a bit, go back and read it again to do the editing and rewrite the places that my brain doesn't like.

15) Which is worse: making the summary, picking the tags, or the anxiety when you post your fic?

Oooof, definitely the posting anxiety. I usually immediately find something else to do so I don't obsess over it.

16) How do you define success for your fanfic - hits? Kudos? Comments? Bookmarks? Or just if you like it?

Hits, kudos, and comments are always fun and rewarding, but I write for my own enjoyment and sanity. I have plenty of fics that barely get any love, but I enjoy writing them. It's therapeutic for me. The rest is just noise. Also, like any writer, I love to hear from readers and try to respond to all my comments because they mean a lot to me.

17) Do you have a playlist for your favorite character/ship?

Sometimes, yes. It depends on what I am writing and how I am feeling. Most of the time it is instrumental piano and/or cello music because I will start accidentally typing the lyrics of a regular playlist. If I am going for a specific vibe or writing because of a specific song, I will have the song on repeat or at least an album by the artist.

18) If fan art was going to be made from your work, which fic would you pick and which fan artist would you like to create it?

SCBB delivered that on a platter for me. CWA got art from the multi-talented @bigmammallama5. If you haven't seen it, you can check it out here.

19) How many WIPs do you currently have?

13 total with another one that is in the planning stages.

20) What's your advice to new fanfic writers?

Write for yourself. If you love it, it brings you enjoyment, and adds to your life, continue doing it. You're not going to please everyone and there will be people who are less than kind about something you publish. Those voices don't matter. There is someone out there that has read or will read your work and it will stick with them for the rest of their lives. Always do it for you.

Tagging but no pressure: @lovesastateofmind1 @casualkoalatea @fabulousglitch and @sssammich

[1-khxna-1]

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧Was it worth it?:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

Pearl x gem reader ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚

words: 611

google docs pages: 2

warning: war

Part: 1/4

✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺♥༻∞✧༺✧༺♥༻∞

There you were a low-life Tanzanite, fighting in a war you never wanted to be a part of but you got caught in the middle of it. You saw the traitorous rose quartz that shattered her diamond with the diamond’s pearl… and it was fighting with rose quartz!? Maybe she was being brainwashed into fighting. No.. she was smiling. You rushed to the pearl, fighting whoever and whatever got in your way The only thing that was going through your head was why. Why was a pearl here? Why were YOU here? And why was this war happening?! Yet all you could do was try to get to that pearl. While you were in your head you got tackled by that very pearl. Her spear pointed to your gem. “What is a Tanzanite doing down on earth..” Her spear got closer and closer to your gem. “Did a blue diamond send you!? Hm?!” Your throat started to close up and no words were coming out of your mouth, it was true your diamond told you to come down to earth to see how the war was going and it was going and it was going exactly how war was supposed to go BAD! You started to think if your diamond sent you on a mission where she knew you would fail. You got pulled back into the real world then the pearl spoke again. “Speak or you will be poofed like her other soldiers.” “I would rather be shattered than speak to you-” Then your whole world turned back. And then you woke up in a house..? With a black-haired boy looking at you with stars in his eyes. your leg was under a bright light that had started to burn it. ”What is this?! Some sort of weapon?!” you picked it up and threw it at the wall, it shattered as soon as it hit the wall. As soon as you did everyone looked at you. “Are you sure this is the right gem?” the ‘garnet’ started to speak. “Yes yes this is the tanzanite that I bubbled and-” You soon remembered that voice, pink diamond’s pearl. “What year is it, hm? How many years has it been since you bubbled me and trapped me on this plant?!” you started to yell at the group. you stood up and drew your weapon. Sadly for you, they did the same. You soon knew this was not going to go in your favor and that the best option was to play nice. you lowered your weapon and it soon disappeared, now that you looked at each of the gems in the room. A garnet, a pearl, and an amethyst. You also noticed that your form had changed..” So why am I here? Why didn't you keep me bubbled? " Your voice was raspy and worn out, the pearl started to speak” Well we wanted to teach Steven about gem history, and you're just the gem for the job” Her very spear aimed right at you as if she knew you were up to you. Her eyes never left your presence as she spoke.” well isn't doing it.” you say as you crossed your arms, “who said you had a choice?” the pearl said, her words spilling with venom as the garnet pushed her to the side and kneed down to you,” it is your choice and it's been around 5000 years.” your eyes opened wide, 5000 years gone just like that… Did anyone know you were bubbled? Did your diamond look for you? Did anyone look for you?.. That didn't matter right now. What mattered now was you getting back to your homeland.

[fordtato]

The Symbol Cipher Theory - A Gravity Falls Mystery: What do the symbols on the portal page mean?

NOTE: Since Rob Renzetti replied to this on Twitter, new/corrected info is being added to this google doc (including everything in this original post) Go there for updates!

-------

There are a lot of things about Journal 3 that I have yet to figure out. What are those dumb little rectangles on the sides of the pages? I’ve tried applying everything I could to them - binary, international telegraph alphabet, morse? I couldn’t crack it. And what of those lines with a bunch of circles in them - you know, the ones that look like crop circles? And what of those numbers? You know the ones - they show up in this order from time to time: 6, 1 345 [or 3 4 5] 12 89 [or 8 9] 10 11. 13. 7. Sometimes they’re rearranged or missing elements, but that’s how they appear at their most complete (on the final page they show up on - across from those alchemical symbols), I hate those numbers. I have no idea what they mean. And boy, have I tried…

Aw well. They probably just mean nothing, right? 

But I would like to propose something: Maybe there is one more mystery in Gravity Falls.

Again: Link to theory google doc here.

The Symbols On The Portal Page

I want to guide you guys through a little exercise. Everyone got their Journal 3s? Alright. Open up to the portal schematics page:

t’s very familiar by now, and truly iconic. But, speaking of icons, look at the symbols. The truth is, these symbols show up a few times throughout the journal, mixed in with the rest of the codes and ciphers. But, similar to the aforementioned alchemical symbols, they probably mean nothing. After all, we’ve pored over them, again and again. 

These 13 symbols.

Huh. 

13.

On a half-circle.

Well, if that circle were complete, there would probably be 26 symbols.

Which means these might be letters.

Which leads us to the first question. Where are the rest of the letters?

My first move was to check the show. 

No dice. Neither of the journals show the other half of the circle - and on the bottom journal, they just flip the symbols upside down - it actually fooled me at first (I was very excited to see these upside down symbols before realizing it wasn’t new at all, simply upside down).

But whatever! We have 13 symbols. Hell, if we had examples of them in certain words, we might even be able to find the other 13 for the full 26. 

So… I went through the pages. And I found 4 instances of the code showing up in Journal 3. 

The Tie Code (on the same page spread as the Tie of Possession

Bill Page Code (On the same page spread as the one that names Cill Cipher)

The Hide Behind page spread

The Boat page spread (On the same page spread as the Island Heads and the scribbled out boat)

Let's analyze these one at a time.

The Tie Code

This is the only instance of a page including both an upside down and right side up version of a symbol directly from the portal page. It’s odd - we have that circle with the 3 dots, and two sideways T, the sideways table with 2 dots, and the sideways upside-down 7 with a dot here. 

I’m not sure we are able to get more meaning from these, but we’ve learned something: these symbols do show up in both right side up and upside down form.

The Bill Page

Of note, we have seen one of these 5 symbols before. The 5th symbol of the Bill code matches the third symbol of the wheel (in its upside down form).

The first symbol on the Bill page also looks suspiciously similar to the second symbol on the portal page - the upside down 7 with a dot. But it’s missing the dot. I’m inclined to think this is a new letter. (I am coming at this from the angle of someone who knows Arabic - where the number of dots on a letter makes a difference in which letter it is. So, you know… maybe it makes a big difference here?)

But at the very least, let’s count this as 4 new symbols: the backwards 4, the N, the 4 lines, and the symbol with a missing dot.

Added to our original 13, that’s 17 symbols so far.

The Hide Behind Page

This code is three rows, in a pattern of 5 symbols, 5 symbols, and 4 symbols (or 5, depending on if you count the first one as 3 vertical lines or 2 vertical lines near 1 vertical line. We also have some more familiar icons. The second, third, and fourth symbols all match a symbol from the portal page in upside-down form! 

We also have a repeat of that upside down 7 symbol! Again, without the dot, both in the second and third row (upside down and right side up). But surely they wouldn’t have a symbol with missing elements, like missing dots, right? 

I’d like to direct your attention back to the Bill Page Code. Notice anything similar to this code? No? How about now?

So we have our second clue: sometimes, a symbol may be drawn that is missing an element. 

So… I am unsure if the upside-down 7 with a dot (portal symbol #2, Bill symbol #1) is being utilized here, just missing the dot. If so, it might be showing up as the 6th AND 12th symbol in this. 

Regardless, because it shows up two times without the dot, and because the symbol is missing the dot in the row of symbols that the second row of the Hide Behind Code is emulating from the Bill Code, I will go ahead and again say I am treating it as a new symbol. But I also understand someone else reasoning that it is not. 

We also have a repeat of the symbol that is just 3 vertical lines (Portal Symbol #1), and a new symbol that is a sideways table with 1 dot in the center and a line next to it (Hide-behind symbol #1). We also have a strange symbol at the end of row 1: the three lines with 2 more layered on top in an asymmetrical pattern. 

The first symbol in row 3, the one that is either 3 vertical lines or 2 vertical lines near 1 vertical line, is bugging me. It can either be one symbol or two. It might also be 4 vertical lines missing the third line (We will see another instance of 4 vertical lines in a bit, so bear with me). Regardless, I’m inclined to treat this as one symbol because of the spacing it lines up with below the symbol above it.

All in all, it looks like there are 3 new symbols, depending on how we treat the first two (or three) symbols in the last line. It’s up to interpretation, but alas. Let’s add in the new ones. 

3 + 17 = 20 symbols so far.

The Boat Code

Last one!

We have some more symbols matching up! #9, 10, 11, and 12 on this page match up with #2,3,4 and 5 from the Hide-Behind page! 

Let’s take a look at the rest. We start with a dot. It is hard to say for sure if this is its own thing, or if it is part of the stylistic ink-splatter dots on the page. It seems just a little too perfect to count as a splatter, so I will go ahead and count it as a symbol for now. Even if the dot is NOT a symbol on its own, a dot+two vertical lines is new.

Next, we have a recurrence of a double-vertical-line symbol multiple times.

Lastly, #3, 5, 6 and 7 are ALSO new. As established previously, the rest are repeats. 

So, we have 6 new symbols. The dot (or the dot with the double line if we’re counting that), the double line (without the dot), the horizontal double line, the triple-horizontal lines with two dots, the upside-down table, the 4 vertical lines

6+20? 26 symbols.

Final notes:

Is this theory perfect? Not at all - there are several letters above that might end up being two, or perhaps symbols that I counted as different, which might be the same one. 

But it definitely seems like there are ~26 symbols, which may or may not correspond to 26 letters of the English alphabet. I know, I know, it’s a stretch. But it’s *my* stretch, one I’ve fixated on for way too long. 

So which symbols mean which letters? I tried assigning letters 1-13 to the symbols on the portal page, but it feels like gibberish (that being said, this is Gravity Falls we’re talking about here. Gibberish could be any number of ciphers). It might also be letters 14-26? Maybe it being upside down is a clue? 

But then I remembered, The Numbers:

This is the last iteration of the numbers. The last version to pop up before the journal switches perspective from Ford to Dipper. It is also the most complete version. 

6, 1 345 [or 3 4 5] 12 89 [or 8 9] 10 11. 13. 7

It’s interesting that they go up to 13, is all. 

A1Z26 makes this string of numbers into: F A C D E L H I J K M G, but it is missing one of the numbers.

Maybe that’s (roughly) the order of the schematics page? I don’t really have this figured out. Frankly, I’ve been at this for a couple years - that’s how long the theory has been polishing up in my head. It’s time to let this go free.

Thanks for reading, and I hope making this post spurs some more theories.

UPDATE: IF YOU CHECK THE REBLOGS, YOU WILL SEE THAT USER DUMBBUTTASS FOUND ANOTHER ONE ON THE PAGE WITH THE MONOCLE - EVERY SYMBOL ON THAT PAGE IS IN THE PORTAL PAGE HALF-CIRCLE. REBLOG THEIR UPDATE IF YOU CAN

[wiccawrites]

KINNPORSCHE BODYSWAP AU ||

AU where kinnporsche are sons of two of Thailand's most affluent families!! The Theerapanyakuls are old rich but recently struggling -- they've got a good name but their business isn't as flourishing as it once was and it's steadily shrinking. On the other hand, the Kittisawats are new rich. They made it big in the software industry just a decade ago and now they're easily one of the richest families in the country.

Kinn and Porsche are both next in line to inherit their respective businesses but the way they were raised are night and day. Kinn was raised under Korn's iron hand and he's a middle child to top it all off. Meanwhile Porsche is smart but generally unserious -- he's outgoing and a free spirit!

They grew up as rivals. Porsche has gone out of his way to tease Kinn ever since they were little. Kinn is one of the few people that can get Porsche to take things seriously -- mostly because Porsche likes competing with Kinn and trying to see if he can ruin Kinn's day by winning.

Anyway Something Happens™ (idk what, let's say the gay stars align for now) and they end up switching bodies with no way of switching back. 

This is a problem because Kinn's engaged to be married in a week and there is no fucking way Porsche is sleeping with Kinn's blander-than-hotel-wallpaper fiance. He's adamant about it and he doesn't understand how Kinn could throw his whole life away for a business. 

Kinn honestly didn't like his fiance as well but Korn had been breathing down his neck about getting married for the sake of expanding the business for literal years now. And his fiance was from a really good background. If he breaks off the engagement, especially this late in the game, he'll disgrace the family name. He tells Porsche as much. 

That's when Porsche gets the idea. 

Since they're in each other's bodies, Porsche can just break the engagement off as Kinn. He thinks that if he delivers an impassioned speech standing up for himself (well, for Kinn technically), Korn will eventually have to understand.

After all, Porsche knew he had a way with words. What could go wrong? 

A lot, apparently. 

Porsche does as planned during Kinn's engagement party and Korn is livid. He's never seen the man turn that shade of red before. Korn is a breath away from publicly disowning Kinn until the real Kinn takes Porsche's hand and apologizes for not being brave enough to do the right thing. 

Suddenly, Porsche catches himself looking at Kinn. He's grateful they can see each other for who they truly are because it would be weird if Porsche looked at Kinn and instead saw himself right now.

Because Kinn is making up a story about how he and Porsche have been secretly dating on and off for years and throughout Kinn's engagement. And he's being loud about it. People are staring. In fact, Porsche is sure the only reason no one is doing anything is because the story is, well, it's juicy.

"Please believe me when I say it's all my fault for being a coward," Kinn says in a tone that has everyone hanging onto his every word. He turns to Porsche, and then he gets on one knee. "Kinn, I'm sorry for taking so long to realize that you're the person I've been waiting for all my life. You're the one who loves me, and I'm the one who loves you most. Will you marry me?"

Porsche wonders how the fuck Kinn came up with all this shit on the spot. 

Because it's genius.

The Kittisawats were currently the third richest family in Thailand. Korn would be a fool to force his son to go through with his existing engagement now. Not to mention, the press would eat the whole romance angle up. And being engaged would give Kinn and Porsche the chance to cover for each other while they figure out how the fuck they can go back to their own bodies.

God, Kinn was brilliant. Porsche could kiss him.

Porsche blinks. Actually, that wasn't a bad idea at all. Everyone was watching. The better they sold this lie, the more time they'd get to fix things.

Throwing all caution to the wind, Porsche kneels so that he and Kinn are eye-to-eye. A relieved smile breaks through his face as he loops his arms around Kinn's shoulders.

"Yes," Porsche whispers before he seals their lips together.

If his heart skips a few beats, that's only because he's never been into public displays of affection.

[rowarn]

I JUST HAD THE MOST FANTASTIC CHILDHOOD FRIEND FIC IDEA I AM CRACKING OPEN A GOOGLE DOC AS WE FUCKIN SPEAK OH MY GOOOOOOD

[smidgen-of-hotboy]

Our Angel of Brahma, pt. xi

Hello Travelers, before we begin I need to stress that this part of Our Angel of Brahma contains explicit violence. With that being said, consider this your warning for the following content: kidnapping (mentioned), assault, police brutality, interrogations, and some self-harm. I will be going back to add CW to previous parts and will update when those have been added in. If there are any warnings that you would like added to this part or any others do not hesitate to reach out in my ask box or DMs! Additionally: I am planning on transferring this series over to ao3 in the coming weeks. The google doc is starting to crash and that is my sign that this is no longer a self contained one shot au. It is a drabble. a nearly 19k long (and counting) drabble @ananxiousgenz @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @the-private-eye @demonic-panini

Calypso walks into her office. Coffee mug in one hand, and her comms in the other. She hadn't checked her emails yet and had only briefly skimmed the messages Frannie had sent her early in the morning. Most of which didn’t make much sense and had been sent five hours before she was awake, which was by her standards, five hours too early to be doing absolutely anything important. She booted up the computer and took a long sip of her coffee. Her comms rang and it was un-surprisingly Frannie. 

“Calypso Starr speaking–”

“Have you seen them yet?” 

“Frannie. Good morning to you too. I believe conversations start with hello.”

“Right– hello, did you see them yet?”

“See what?” She opens her email and smiles reading the subject line “RE: THE CASE OF THE MISSING ANGEL”. Rita was creative. Calypso would give her that. But she also seemed just as scatterbrained as Frannie did at times. They both knew their way around computers and comms. More than Calypso ever learned from her mom, so she was in no position to really judge either of them. If anything, they had every right to laugh in her face for not being able to do all the work on her own. Some shit journalist she was turning up to be. 

“The videos!” Frannie huffed and in the background, Calypso could make out the sound of a cabinet door opening and slamming shut. “Listen, I’m hanging up, and when you’re done with the videos and taking notes– and I mean all the videos, and all your notes– call me. Rita spent ninety-six hours trying to hunt all this down for you, kid. You better write the best damn article this side of the galaxy has ever seen! Because she ain’t helping you anymore after this, alright?” 

Calypso opens her mouth to argue but the call ends right then. She sets her comms on the desk in its designated spot next to her coffee mug and one of the glass swans. She isn’t a kid. She’s a grown adult just like Frannie. Frannie was however much, much older than her. And it wouldn’t be the first time that she’s let an older lady step all over her. 

Without anymore preamble, she takes a seat and opens the first video file. 

The video starts with a lone woman sitting at a table. The room is bare and poorly lit with no windows.  “State your name.” “Why should I? You already know who I am.” The woman’s dark hair falls out of her face revealing dark eyes and a few freckles. She glares at the camera. “And get that thing out of my face.” “No can do, now state your name.”  The woman huffs hanging her head low to the table. “Eve Bell.” “Full name.” “Eevee Bell.” She jerks her chin up and snarls, “Happy?”

Calypso pauses the video. This is Eevee Bell. Eevee the same night she was taken from her home.The same night she tucked Baird into bed and promised nothing bad would happen to her. Calypso flips open her journal thumbing through the pages until she finds her notes on the “Dad” recording. She reads back over them and flips to the next blank page. She rummages around her desk for a bit before finding a pen tucked into her newly acquired swan pen holder. She hits play on the video, and begins taking notes.

“Very,” a figure walks around the camera to stand behind Eevee. They’re dressed in a freshly pressed uniform. Their epaulets are black, with two embroidered stars in silver thread. A Constable of high rank. They place one hand on her shoulder and grip her chin with the other. “Now look directly at the camera, and tell them exactly what you did.” She clenches her jaw and tries to pull away. The Constable keeps her firmly pinned in place.  “Not gonna talk, huh.” “Over my dead body.” The Constable tsks and lets go of Eve’s face. Eevee, to her credit, rolls her shoulders as much as she could with her hands cuffed behind her back, and tilted her chin up higher. “You’ll hear me sing and squeal before I tell you anything you want.”  The Constable shakes their head and laughs, “We’ll see how you feel after today.” They exit out of frame and a heavy door can be heard opening. Eevee looks over and her eyes go wide as three other uniformed Constables walk into the room.  “Welcome to New Kinshasa, Eve.” The Constable says out of frame said. The video ends.

Calypso leans back in her seat. She glances down at her notes. Nothing. Blank. She puts her pen down and folds her hands over one another, leaning to rest her elbows on her desk. Her stomach does a strange thing, flipping up over on itself. The coffee is starting to kick in and give her heartburn. 

From her research and based on Baird’s recordings, the Constabulary does not treat its prisoners kindly. Their treatment is not as harsh as Aurinko Permanent Corrections. No, nothing could compare to Palomine Aurinko, and nothing will ever come close to Hoosegow. But there’s a good reason the Solar Planets consider the Guardian Angel System a war crime and New Kinshasa has been charged off and on for committing multiples since the Galactic Civil War ended. 

She grabs her comms and searches for anything she can find on the Constabulary on New Kinshasa and Brahma. She wasn’t expecting her quick galactic search to turn up anything. Just like everything else she’s been looking into privately, this too should have been a dead end. Instead, a tourism site hosted on a Saraswatan travelers guide comes up. 

One of the main attractions to vacationing to Saraswati it turns out, is visiting New Kinshasa. Vacation to Saraswati, and set time aside for a three days, two nights trip to see New Kinshasa. Shuttle over on day one, and see New Kinshasa day two. Get to meet Constables, shake hands with Sergeants, and rub elbows with Inspectors off duty at hotel bars. Take a tour down main street and stop by the Skydeck: Edge of New Kinshasa and peer down at Brahma from up high. 

The photos on the website are orderly and well lit. More than likely staged pieces of propaganda meant to make the average person forget about what happened to Brahma. If Calypso were anyone else even she’d believe it. But Baird’s recordings exist and Brahma has been suffering. Dark Matters can successfully scrub all records from the galaxy but they never stood a chance at stopping something from slipping through the cracks. 

One of the photos on the website catches her eye. A Constable in uniform, with epauluets on their shoulders embroidered in silver thread. Perfectly stitched planets with tilted rings. They’re shaking hands with a man with grey hair and a peculiar mustache. A gold brooch with blue jewels is pinned to his suit. His wide smile reaches his eyes. 

Calypso scrolls down to read the caption at the same time she reaches for her mug. She takes a long sip of her coffee. 

Superintendent Constable Bishop shaking hands with art collector, Osiris Cygnet. 

A “cygnet” is a word used to describe a baby swan. So named after the swan-shaped constellation, Cygnus, and -et indicates smallness. 

If Calypso were the average person, she shouldn’t know this. As she leans back in her desk chair and stares at the swan pen holder, Calypso is reminded that she is not the average person. As she stands now running through her apartment, digging through a cardboard box for a gold swan brooch with sapphire eyes, she has not been the average person since childhood. 

The storage unit came from a deceased art collector. He had an affinity for collecting crystal swans and counterfeit paintings. She sold most of the glass swans back to collectors on Earth while on her visit to her mother’s grave. She held on to the pen holder as a memento and sought out a pawn shop to trade in the brooch when the shop owner said she ought to keep it, “you don’t find jewels like that out there anymore.” Or whatever that meant. 

“Shit shit shit shit–” she finds the brooch and races back to her office clutching it tight. Sure enough, it’s a good match. 

Osiris Cygnet, art collector that vacationed sometime within the last ten years to Saraswati and took a shuttle trip to New Kinshasa. Just how the fuck did he get ahold of Baird’s recordings?

Superintendent Constable Bishop, Eve’s prison guard, and most likely, her future executioner. And he was promoted. At some point in the last twenty years, he was promoted. Multiple times. 

The pin back on the brooch digs into her palm. Calypso clenches her teeth. She should let go before the wound is too deep and forms an ugly gash. She reaches with her free hand and hits play on the next video.

Eevee sits on the stone floor of a prison cell. She stares pointedly at the door. Occasionally her eyes flick up to the camera. Its hard to tell, but her face looks puffy. Her arms have bruises running from her elbows all the way down to her wrists. There are red marks on both wrists from wearing handcuffs. She pulls her knees up to her chest letting out a long groan of pain. The camera zooms in. It is just near inaudible, but the camera's microphone picks up her quiet voice.  I hear your tune,  like a songbird at noon. What a lovely trill, it makes me feel ill. Eve looks like she would curl tighter around herself if it were possible. Shrink into nothing. Make herself as small as a mote of dust.  Like chimes in the wind, we were destined. A full-body shudder wracks through her.  Birdie, I’m not comin’ home, I'm sorry to leave you all alone. A figure approaches the cell. They’re not in uniform but the way they approach Eve’s cell is not without confidence.  “It’s a good song.” Eve jumps with tears in her eyes as she blinks at the person in front of her. “Hey baby, I came to bust you out.” The figure shoves their hands in their pockets.  “Cyrus…” Eve slowly gets to her feet and crosses over to the bars of her cell. She holds a hand out. Cyrus takes it carefully, pressing his lips to her knuckles. She is nearly breathless as she asks, “What are you doing here?” “Like I said: busting you out.”  “I–” Eve shakes her head. “No, you can’t. What about Iris? What about Baird? They need you more than I do right now! How'd you even get in here anyways?” Cyrus shrugs and pulls a key card out from his pocket. “Snuck onto a shuttle, knocked out a Constable, stole their key card? C'mon, Eve, it's not that hard.”  “Not that hard– Cyrus! That's a death sentence! If you get caught–” “I won't get caught, alright? Peter Nureyev”– Eve flinches– “scared them shitless. They’re scrambling right now and too disorganized to notice me.” She's quiet, staring at their hands. “How long has it been already?” “Day five of the Warden Strike, second day without you. Camilla was the one who reached out to. Everyone else apparently was too afraid to, and the other Wardens are losing steam without someone to keep their morale up and minds motivated.”  “And what about Baird? And Iris? You left them alone to try and rescue me? Cyrus, I'm a prisoner, not a princess in a tower.” Cyrus clicks his tongue. “Iris has been alone for a long time, they’ll be fine. And Baird isn’t alone, the Spade’s are taking care of him.” He plays thoughtlessly with her fingers. “You and I only have each other though. I promised your parents I’d look out for you, and I intend to keep that promise, til’ death do us part and all that.”  Eve jerks her hand away to grip one of the bars. “Cyrus, look at me.” He lifts his head and flinches in response only slightly. “I came here willingly. And I’m not going to make it out of here alive. Eber and Camilla can barely afford to take care of themselves and Charlie. And Iris lost their family like you and I did. You and I both know what it's like to lose your parents. I don't want Baird to experience the same thing.”  Cyrus shakes his head. “Eve you're thinking this all backwards. I'm the one that dragged you into this, let me take your place and get you out of it.” The video ends. 

Calypso drops the brooch on her desk to run her hands through her hair. She tugs on the ends of her short bob. 

Eevee pushed Cyrus away because he wanted revolution. And he got it. He got a revolution and it took everything from Baird. 

These are real people. Not just voice recordings or a bedtime story a mother made up to soothe her distressed child. Baird, Eeve, Cyrus, and Iris. A real family. Charlie, Eber, and Camilla and their daughter, Evelyn. A spare family. Josie and the twins. Hank and Mrs. Darius. The Rats. Brahma was full of life. And it still is. Peter Nureyev is a legend to these people. Even if it turns out the name was fake, he was just as real as any of them. 

And despite all their hardships, Cyrus still married Eevee and then Iris. Josie still went on to have twins. Camilla and Eber brought a daughter into the galaxy. Charlie chose to go down singing. Cyrus went out singing. Eve echoed a song. And Baird kept his head high and trilled for their memory. 

The recordings from the comms were real. Are real. Calypso knows this. She doesn't have any faces to put to any names except now for Eve and a rough idea for Cyrus. They were alive. 

Calypso hesitates to start the next video. She's seen more than enough already. More than plenty. There are still two videos left. She already knows how this ends. Eevee Bell walked out of her apartment in the middle of the night so her son wouldn’t have to wake up screaming and watch her be dragged out the front door. She did everything in her power to safeguard him from a War she never wanted to bring home in the first place. And what did it get her? What good did it do when two years later Baird watched what happened to his father anyways? What good did any of it do when they broadcasted Charlie’s execution? 

Taking a deep breath, she hits play. 

“Songbird,” Constable Bishop stands in front of Eve's cell. They keep one hand on their blaster. Eve tucks her chin down while pulling away from the bars. “Tired of singing? That's a pity. You know, a few hours ago, I was alerted that someone came to pay you a visit. I had the cameras checked and we put the facility in lockdown. You'll never believe what we found trying to fly the coop.”  Two Constables drag a man into frame. It's Cyrus. Eve stands in place, her face drained of all its color. Cyrus tilts his head up. The two Constables flanking his side force him to stand, hoisting him up by his underarms. His hands remain pinned behind his back. .  “I wouldn't be all smiley right now if I were in your shoes, Desrosiers.” Constable Bishop pulls their blaster from its holster. They click the safety off and point it directly at Cyrus. “Now then, here's how this is going to play out. Ms. Bell, you're going to admit that you organized the Warden strike, you're going to take the fall and you're going to accept the consequences.” “And if she doesn't?” The Constables holding Cyrus pull on his arms. He hisses through his teeth.   “If she doesn't, then we'll blame you both. And then, with you both out of the way, we'll hunt down that Little Birdie of yours, pluck him from the nest, and make him sing us songs about how beautiful it is to be saved by New Kinshasa–”  “I did it.” Eve crosses her cell and reaches out as far as she can to grab the Constable Bishop’s uniform. Her fingers just barely reach their elbow. “I organized the strike. It was all my idea to begin with. I knew it was risky and stupid but I did it anyways. I poisoned the watering hole–” “Eevee–” “And Cyrus had nothing to do with it. Joining the revolutionaries and inciting the Dome Wardens was all me. Let him go. Blame me for everything, say that I'm the Revolutionary's mother while you’re at it and publicly execute me. Tear me limb from limb– just let Cyrus go and leave my son out of this.”  Constable Bishop holds her gaze. He lowers his blaster and gives her a curt nod, “I wasn't going to go that far, but if that's how you feel, well…” He put his blaster away. “I’m pleased you came around, Ms. Bell.” He turns to the other two Constables and motions for them to leave. “Escort the Pest off of New Kinshasa.” They grab hold of Cyrus’ jaw and force him to look up. “And if we ever catch you sneaking up here again, you’ll be publicly executed.” Eevee looks away as they drag Cyrus out of frame. His voice comes as a muffled shout that grows quieter and quieter.  “Don’t look so down Ms. Bell. You made the right choice. New Kinshasa thanks you for your candor.” The video ends. 

She lied. Eevee lied to Constable Bishop. Even if half of what she said did hold some truth to it, there were still lies she sprinkled in that they believed. At least they chose to believe them. And choosing to believe in something only grants it more power. It warps reality, and makes it more real. 

Baird’s first recording that Calypso heard echoes in the back of her mind. Some say that the legend isn’t true. Some say that Eevee Bell set the Dome Wardens on strike. At least one person believes that she is Peter Nureyev’s mother. 

Baird and Iris did not know everything. For whatever Cyrus was caught for finally, Constable Bishop made good on their promise and did eventually come back for him. They did not however publicly execute him. 

They got Charlie instead. 

With only one video left, Calypso hits play. She’s only slightly surprised to see Cyrus in a similar interrogation room to the one Eevee was in in the first video.

“There will be a free Brahma. There will be a free Brahma. Brahma will be–” “Do you ever, shut up!” Constable Bishop slams their fist against the table in front of Cyrus. His epauluets are different, now instead of two stars theres three. Cyrus winces clenching his jaw, but doesn’t draw away. “No wonder you got a divorce, I’d get one too if I was stuck married to you.” “Charmed, though I don’t find you pretty enough to marry… maybe if you lost the scrappy beard–” “Enough!” Constable Bishop drags a hand down their face, scratches at their stubble, and stares down at Cyrus. “All you have to do, is look at the camera,” they point to the one currently rolling, “and say exactly what you did.” “And then what? You’ll let me go scot free? You’ve already beat black and blue, I think I felt a tooth or two dislodge from my mouth. You willing to pay for my dentist bill?” “There are no dentist left on Brahma.” Constable Bishop circles around Cyrus and stands behind him. They grip his left shoulder, and guide his face up towards the camera with their other hand. “Now go on, tell them exactly who you are, and what you did.” Cyrus’ eyes are a muted green. His face is long and skin a darker shade of brown than Eevees’. He takes a deep, calming breath, and flashes a quick smile revealing a dimple on his left cheek.  “My name is Peter Nureyev, and I am going to bring down New Kinshasa.” Constable Bishop lets go of Cyrus to whip out their blaster. They crack the blunt end against the back of his head. Constable Bishop’s hand and blaster come away slightly bloodied, and the shout Cyrus lets out echoes in the small room.  “Think you’re so smart, huh? Try again.” “Cyrus Desrosiers-Bell, and when I get out of here,” Cyrus strains against his restraints baring his teeth in a sharp, sadistic grin, “I’m going to rip your fucking throat out!”  Constable Bishop clicks the safety off their blaster. They press it to the side of Cyrus’ head. “Go on, keep talking. We don’t need you alive, you serve no greater purpose to your revolution. You get caught in New Kinshasa once and I let you go, shame on you. You get caught sneaking around New Kinshasa a second time and get far enough back home just outside your front door, shame on me.” Bishop tsks rechecking their blaster. “One jolt. That’s all you need.” “Well go on then,” Cyrus lifts his chin. His brows squish together. A small gasp escapes his lips. “You don’t scare me. Not the first time you’ve pressed that thing to my head.”  After a moment, a comms goes off. The Constable checks it with a quick glance and relaxes. “You’re right,” they draw their blaster away from Cyrus but do not click the safety back in place. “I don't scare you enough. But she probably will.” A question forms on Cyrus’ lips but dies just as quickly as the interrogation room doors whirls open and close. Heavy bootsteps cross the room. A small shadow falls over Cyrus. His eyes go wide.  “Eve, my angel…” Cyrus shakes his head, tearing his gaze away. He grits his teeth. “No. You killed her.”  “Did we though? Constable,” the Bishop turns to the new arrival. They pass their blaster off to them. The new arrival walks into frame to accept the blaster. Standing beside Constable Bishop, is none other than Eevee Bell. The same dark hair, dark eyes, and constellation of freckles. A collar of some sort clasps snuggly around her neck.  It is as if the soul that bubbled to life inside of her has been snuffed out. This may look like Eevee Bell, it may move like Eevee Bell, but it is not her. Not anymore. No song whistles from her lips as she levels the blaster pressing back against Cyrus’ head.  “Eevee, baby,” the Constable places her finger over the trigger.  “Now then, any last words, Desroisers-Bell?” Cyrus licks his lips and stares into the camera. “My angel, my angel. Set me free.” The Constable pulls the trigger. Her arm absorbs the recoil as Cyrus’ body seizes and–

Calypso closes out of the video and turns away. She presses her head between her legs gasping for lungfuls of air. 

Rita spent ninety-two hours digging through Goddess knows what just to dig up this. The tumbling feeling in her stomach returns full force. Combined a racing heart and the rising bile in her throat, Calypso isn’t so sure anymore if she wants to call Frannie back. Maybe she ought to reach back out to Mister Mercury and try creative writing again. Maybe she ought to quit writing and journalism altogether, shuttle home to Venus, find a nice well off spouse, pop out another fucked up kid like her and her mother, and pat herself on the back for not dying to cancer or radiation poisoning or whatever. It might also do her a whole lot of good to find a therapist. At least looking for one wouldn’t kill her.

She waits until her heart has stopped racing and stomach settled back into place. Her pen feels like it’s barely there as she scratches down quick notes:

Eve gave the constable’s idea for public execution, thus Charlie. 

Cyrus Desrosiers-Bell. He took Eevee’s last name? And then kept it after marrying Iris?

Cyrus was beat and taken away because he snuck on to New Kinshasa– twice. First time to try and save Eve (failed to) and second time for unknown reason (caught and tracked down). Could this be why/how Talia’s book club found a way to New Kinshasa?

Don’t know what song Cyrus sang as he was dragged away from Iris. Possibly some version of Charlie’s Lament? 

How does Osiris Cygnet connect to all this?

What was the collar around Eve’s neck?

Constable Bishop’s promotions: have something to do with what happened to Eve? With what he did to Cyrus? (SIDE NOTE: I pray to my Goddess that whatever the hell happened to Eve, they did not do to Cyrus.)

… I pray that whatever they did to Eve, they did not improve and inflict upon Charlie. 

She puts her pen back in the swan holder and examines the puncture wound in her palm. The injury is small, not a gash like she thought it might be. A bandage and anti-spetic and Calypso will be right as rain. Peachier than an Earthen Sunday morning. 

“I need to find a hobby.” Calypso glances at the swan holder. Perhaps– no. Absolutely not. 

She dresses her injury and calls Frannie back despite every part of her howling not to. Her coffee has long since gone cold. Normally this woudln’t be a problem. Just drop a few ice cubes in and presto. Or reheat the whole mug and presto. Today is one of those rare days where neither is an appealing option and the last of her six hundred cred coffee goes down the drain. Finally her call connects with Frannie.

“You finished the videos?”

“Frannie.”

“Right, hello. You finished the videos.” It’s not even a question anymore. Calypso hums turning away from her sink to lean her lower back against it. Slowly she lowers herself to the floor. “I’ll take that as a yes, okay! I asked Rita about Peter Nureyev like you wanted me to. And she turned back around within a day to tell me that there was nothing she could find about the man. He doesn’t exist. Just another legend.”

Calypso scoffs, “Well that’s impossible, I just saw the videos. Eve and Cyrus both mention him by name. Baird mentions him in his recordings by name. Camilla mentions him by name at some point. He has to be real.”

“Well I don’t know what to tell you, kid, but if Rita can’t find him, no one can. It’s impossible to find something or someone who doesn’t exist.”

“Or maybe he disappeared.”

Frannie hums, “Sure, maybe that. Look, kid,” Calypso bites her tongue, “I wanted to talk with you about asking for help. Remember how I said you won’t be asking Rita for anymore favors?”

“Yeah, yeah actually– Frannie what was that about?”

“Kid,” Calypso does not retain her inward groan, “Rita is a really good friend of mine. Me and her go way back to when we were just little ladies getting our noses dirty and toeses wet with cybersecurity. She went down the HCPD path, I went down a freelance one. 

“My point though is that me and her aren’t the same little ladies we used to be anymore. We’re little old ladies now. And us little old ladies need our rest and relaxation. When Rita starts something she doesn’t know when to take a break. She puts her whole body into it.”

“Don’t you mean mind?”

“No, body. Rita has been sacrificing her own health for the better part of three decades now trying to help her Boss. He’s a prick at best and an asshole at his worst. He’s taken her for granted a lot.” Well, maybe she should find a better Boss, goes unsaid. “Their relationship is better now, but I’m not going to let another kid like you come and drag her around the whole galaxy.”

“For fucks sake Frannie– my name is Calypso! I’m not your damn kid!” Calypso pants. The swooping feeling returns. “I’m not you’re damn kid, I haven’t been anyone’s damn kid in over ten years, so stop calling me a fucking child! If you don’t want me talking to Ms. Rita anymore fine. I get it. You don’t wanna hear about my requests to her that’s fine. I’ll cut you out of it and–”

“Calyspo Starr.” Her jaw clamps shut narrowly avoiding biting her tongue. “If you reach out to Rita after today, I will cease to help you myself. You can take your little comms and find someone else willing to help you for free. All I’m asking, Ms. Starr, is that you don’t involve Rita any further. Have I made myself clear, Ms. Starr?”

Ms. Starr, I’m sorry but there’s nothing more we can do for your mother. Your next decisions are going to shape how the end of her life are going to be. Have you got a will lined up already?

Ms. Starr, I can’t accept your solo proposal. Everyone else found partners for this project at the start of the year. Maybe you can join a group and be their editor? 

Ms. Starr, that will be a demerit for you. Let’s find you something more suitable in the lost and found. You wouldn’t want to mistaken for a ruffian, do you?

“Crystal.” Calypso ends the call before Frannie can respond. She calls back. Calypso decline the call and throws her comms across the kitchen. She watches as it skitters along the tile. 

Alone. Shit writer. Parentless. Jobless. Flying by the seat of her pants and overpriced coffee grounds. She was never cut out to be a journalist. Maybe she ought to go off and find a cold ditch to lie down in. Or a warm ditch. Whichever she stumbles across first. 

Just who is Calypso Starr? Who the hell does she think she is anyways? And what gave her the idea that any of this meant something to someone in the first place?

I choose to believe… 

Calypso takes a deep breath and starts counting back from ten. 

I choose to believe… 

As she slowly exhales, true clarity rings through her mind. Baird chose to believe. And it doesn’t matter how, his recordings made it off-planet. And if not Calypso Starr to tell his story, to transcribe every last detail she can capture, then who else? Who else does that leave? 

Calypso Starr, the rebel who didn’t wear the right uniform. The orphaned university student who scrapped by without any friends. And now, a Solar based, historical freelance journalist. Scratch that from the record: Galactic, historical freelance journalist. She’s worn half a dozen different hats over the years, but one thing has remained consistent: a Starr burns brightest before they go out. And if Baird Bell and Brahma are the undoing of her, then there’s nothing to be done about it. She’ll get to the end of the recordings and uncover the truth one or another. With or without Frannie’s help.

[atinylittlepain]

YCMQ - Chapter Three

din djarin x jedi!reader

series masterlist

wordcount: 5.4K

warnings | 18+ smut, canon-typical violence, angst

a/n | i've had this chapter in my google docs for months now and finally just decided to put it out there. who knows if i'll keep writing this tbh i kinda like where this ends :)

..................................

“You didn’t tell me it was a Mandalorian you were traveling with. How curious.” With that, master Tano releases Din from the cage of her sabers, sending him stumbling forward into the ground of the scorched woods with a groan. Not exactly the greeting she was hoping for from her master. She swallows hard, slipping off her pack to reveal the child tucked inside.

“Master Tano, we have brought you the child so you may begin his training.” Ahsoka looks between her and the child, something unreadable in the subtle squint of her eyes. 

“We will see. I need to speak to you both first.” Having gotten up to stand beside her, Din goes to speak, but Ahsoka cuts him off with a wave of her hand.

“Not you, Din Djarin. Them.” She furrows her brow at her master’s words.

“But the child does not speak. Not really.” The kid coos at that, tilting his head up to look at her, and Ahsoka smiles.

“Maybe not in the sense you are thinking of. But there are other ways to communicate. Come, I will show you. But you, Din Djarin, must remain here.” Din doesn’t seem to like that one bit.

“Absolutely not. I am not going to–” She silences him with a hand pressed firmly to his chest plate, eyes pleading into the visor of his helmet.

“We’ll be fine, Din. Please, do as she says.” A crackled sigh comes through his voice modulator, but he nods as she steps away to join Ahsoka with the child. As she follows her master deeper into the scorched woods of Corvus, she feels Din’s eyes following her until they slip into a thicket of charred trees.

“You’ve grown attached to that Mandalorian.” She opens her mouth to protest, but her master silences her with a firm look.

“Do not try to deny what is so clear. It is only a problem if you let it continue, though it will be difficult to say goodbye to him after today.” Her heart sinks at her master’s words. She hadn’t considered that this would be the end of their journey together, her quest completed, his Creed fulfilled. She doesn’t have long to sink into dismay at this realization before her master is speaking again.

“There is a great deal more power, more energy, concentrated around you than when you departed.” 

“Master Tano, I have to confess something. I–”

“I know what you did, my student. Afterall, everything in this galaxy is connected.” Her mouth goes dry at her teacher’s words, but Ahsoka offers her a simple smile.

“Master, I-I lost control. I am beyond repentant for what I did.” “I know you are. What you did– you must never do again. But I do not think that will be difficult once you part ways from that Mandalorian. Once you are knighted as a Jedi.” She can’t believe the words leaving her master’s mouth.

“Do you mean to tell me I am not condemned?” Ahsoka shakes her head.

“You are not. You have completed the quest I gave you. It is time for you to walk this path, not as a student, but as a Jedi.” She feels dizzy from this news, a giddy relief sweeping through her and lightening the heaviness she has been carrying since Nevarro. 

Ahsoka motions for her to sit on an ashen tree stump, taking the kid from her arms and moving him to sit on a small boulder across from her.

“Now, I believe this little one has a story to tell you.” The kid tilts his head at her, letting out a few quiet babbles. She turns to look at her master who stands to the side of them. Ahsoka gives her a slight nod.

“Let the Force connect you. Speak with energy, not words.”  She turns her attention back to the kid, his eyes watching her intently. An inhale and an exhale to find the thread of energy connecting them.

…

Din is worried. He managed to get a bit closer to the copse of trees they’re sitting in, but Ahsoka had fixed him with a steely look before he could get any nearer, only catching a glimpse of her and the kid, seeming to just be sitting quietly, looking at each other. He had seen her in meditation a few times in the hold of the Crest, something about the stillness always unsettling to him. That’s how he feels now, unsettled. He sits down on a fallen log, his mind racing as he wonders what they could possibly be doing. 

Their entrance on Corvus had been under false pretenses, pledging to the Magistrate of Calodan that they would dispose of the Jedi who has been “plaguing” her town. Though it seemed to Din that the real plague on the city was the Magistrate herself. And then, he had almost met his Maker when Ahsoka came down on him in a whirl of saber light. What most bothered him about this wasn’t how close he came to death, but how, as Ahsoka knocked him around, she had stood by, passive and unmoving. He knows it’s presumptuous, maybe even plainly wrong, to be upset that she would side with her master over him, but he’s gotten used to her having his back, and to see so clearly where her allegiances really lie has a sadness settling heavy under his armor.

His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of nearing footfall, and when he looks up to see them coming toward him, he notices the strange expression across her face, but he doesn’t have long to study her when she is already speaking to him.

“We need to test Grogu’s abilities to see what he is capable of.”

“Come again?” She smiles lightly at him, glancing down at the kid in her arms.

“That’s his name. Grogu.” The kid’s head immediately whips up to look at her, eyes wide in recognition. Din tries the name out for himself, saying it quietly, and the kid turns his attention on him, letting out a questioning babble. Her laugh calms his edgy nerves and he follows them into a clearing. 

She walks a few paces away from him and Ahsoka, setting the kid - Grogu - down before returning to them. Ahsoka steps forward, presenting a small rock in the open palm of her hand to Grogu.

“Grogu, I want you to use your mind to take this rock from me. Can you do that?” The kid tilts his head at her words, his eyes squinting as he holds out his palm. 

“C’mon, kid.” He mutters it without really knowing, only realizing he spoke when she turns her head to give him a furrowed look before turning back to watch Ahsoka and Grogu. The kid seems to be struggling to do something Din saw him do not too long ago with total ease, his small hand dropping with a frustrated huff, gaze turning away from Ahsoka and onto them. Ahsoka sighs, also turning to look at them, but Din is quick to defend the kid.

“He can do it. I know he can. I saw him do it just a few days ago–” He cuts himself off, an idea quickly forming in his mind. He steps over to Ahsoka, motioning toward Grogu.

“May I?” She nods, stepping back alongside her student who has a similarly perplexed expression across her face. He turns to face Grogu, slipping something out of a side pocket of his flight suit that immediately captures the kid’s attention. 

“Kid–”

“Use his name, Din.” He looks over his shoulder at her, Ahsoka standing mutely beside her. She gives him a reassuring smile and he nods, turning back to face the kid. 

“Grogu, do you want this?” He hadn’t screwed the metal ball back into the shifter handle, having forgotten to in their haste to get to Corvus, and now he’s grateful to be holding it in his outstretched palm for the kid, who is looking very intrigued by his question.

“Well, go ahead. Take it. It’s all yours if you can take it from me.” He can tell that Grogu’s gaze is flitting between him and her, finally settling on the ball. It looks nearly effortless, his little green palm lifting and the ball quickly flitting over into it. Din can’t help the proud laugh he lets out at the sight. 

The two women step forward alongside Din, Grogu busy mouthing at the ball. Ahsoka sighs.

“It’s impressive. But I cannot train him.” Din’s stomach drops.

“What? Why not?” 

“Grogu has become attached. To you, and to her.” Din glances over to her, face slack and pale at her teacher’s words as she continues to speak.

“This kind of attachment comes with strong emotions. Emotions that corrupt a Jedi’s connection to the Force. Training Grogu would be a gamble I cannot take.” 

“Please, master Tano, there must be something we can do. He needs to continue his training.” She rests her hand on her master’s shoulder as she pleads.

“I suppose he could be taken to the temple ruins of Tython to sit amongst the seeing rocks. If there is a Jedi willing to train him, Grogu could connect with them there.” She nods at her master’s words, glancing at Din before speaking.

“Then we will go to Tython as soon as possible.” Ahsoka looks at her, unblinking.

“Not you.” Her hand falls away from her master’s arm.

“What?”

“Your quest is done, as is your time with these individuals. It is time for us to conclude your training, for you to become a Jedi.” Din wants to say something, anything, but it feels like his throat is closing, his chest crumpling. He hadn’t even considered the possibility that this would be it, the last time he would call her his– well, whatever she is, was. He tries to tamp whatever he’s feeling down as she picks up the kid and brings him over to Din, passing Grogu into his arms. She keeps her eyes distant, looking somewhere over his shoulder as she speaks.

“You’ll take care of him, right?” Din coughs harshly before speaking, afraid of the warble that might be there.

“I will. I promise.” She gives one firm nod before stepping back next to Ahsoka.

“Thank you, Din Djarin. For traveling with my student and keeping her and Grogu safe.” He nods at Ahsoka’s words.

“I was happy to.”

“Might I ask you to stay for just one more day? I have something I could use your help with.”

…

Her night is restless, the image of Din walking back to the Crest with Grogu, without her, replaying again and again in her mind. She’s bleary-eyed when they meet Din at the perimeter of the walled town, just before dawn. Her skin is prickling under his gaze. Even through his helmet, she can tell that his eyes are following her as they lay out their plan, Ahsoka departing first to take out the guards on patrol. As they wait in the treeline, she finally can’t stand it anymore, turning to him and huffing.

“What is it?” He seems surprised to have been caught staring, a stuttered breath coming through his voice modulator before he answers.

“You look– different.” Oh. She supposes that this is true. While traveling, she had gotten used to her baggy thermals and tac pants, and it had been a relief when her master handed her what had been her normal attire, dark gray wraps of fabric over a close-fitting tabard and leggings, her forearms traditionally wrapped. She hadn’t felt this free to move in ages. She squares off her shoulders to look at him.

“This is what a Jedi should wear.” His helmet tilts at her, ever so slightly.

“And is that what you are now?”

“I will be soon enough. After we take care of this business.” And after you leave, she silently adds to herself. Before either of them can say anything else, the still morning is disrupted by a harsh, resonant clanging that can only be the large gong atop the gate collapsing to the ground, the signal for them to move in and get to work.

They move quickly and quietly, freeing the prisoners that the Magistrate was keeping strung up outside her palace while Ahsoka drives the guards away, picking them off one by one. What she assumes is the Magistrate’s right hand man seems to be the only guard left, sizing up her and Din where they stand outside the gates of the Magistrate’s compound. Din turns to her, nodding to where Ahsoka had just leapt into the compound.

“Go. Help her. I’ve got this.” She glances at the quickly approaching guard before nodding to Din, bounding up over the wall to aid her master.

It feels natural, fighting alongside Ahsoka, giving the Magistrate a run for her money, even with her beskar spear. They move in sync, sabers swirling through the foggy air but she comes to a startled halt when the sound of a man’s scream resounds from just outside the compound walls. Ahsoka barely glances at her in confusion before picking up the fighting again as she leaps back over the compound wall. 

She drops down into the town square, ready to drive her sabers through whoever may be harming Din. When she sees Din standing, unhurt, over the guard who lays dead on the ground, her stomach drops at the realization of what she just did. All she can do is stare at Din, who stares right back, both of them startling when the gates to the compound open, revealing Ahsoka who proudly carries the Magistrate’s spear. 

As the citizens of the city come out into the streets to rejoice at their liberation, she’s never felt such complete despair, knowing that she is going to have to make a choice that she never wanted to face.

…

“We’re gonna leave soon, kid. You gotta settle in, ok?” Grogu has been inconsolable since Din got back to the Crest, letting out whimpering cries and trying to slip out of his bassinet. When the kid made it all the way down the ramp to the hull and back out into the woods, it finally sunk in for Din that he was searching her, crying for her. He’s trying to let his frustration at Grogu’s antics stifle the real dismay he feels, but it’s hard to ignore the startling truth that he already misses her too. 

He had been shocked that morning, seeing her in such different dress. The dress of a Jedi. And then, an ember of hope sparked up in his chest when she joined him in the courtyard, hope that maybe she was choosing him over her master. But that was a ridiculous wish, he knew it, as she stood by her master’s side and he walked away, disappearing into the mist and back to the Crest. 

Grogu seems to have finally given up, slumping down into his bassinet with a despondent whimper. Din lets out a ragged sigh as he sits down to the Crest’s control panel, beginning to chart their course to Typhon. His attention is drawn to the beeping of the ship’s radar system, showing something, or someone, moving toward the back of the Crest. He huffs, grabbing his blaster and telling Grogu to stay put as he slinks down to the hull to see what’s going on.

He steps tentatively down the ramp from the hull, peering around into the hazy forest. As if from thin air, a figure in a dark, hooded cloak appears, Din aiming his blaster at it as it comes near. He nearly drops his gun when the figure pulls back the hood of their cloak.

“You got room for one more?” He has to remember to breathe as she steps closer, toeing at the foot of the Crest’s ramp.

“What are you– why are you–” He’s not completely sure what he wants to ask her, but she saves him from any more floundering, resting her hand on his forearm as she steps closer.

“I’ve had a change of plans. If you’ll have me, I want to join you and Grogu on your journey to Typhon.” Din clears his throat to stop himself from saying what he really wants to, that he’d have her any way she’d let him. Instead, he offers her a brisk nod.

“Another set of hands would be helpful.” Maker, that was smooth. She pays no mind to his awkward choice of words, smiling as she steps up into the hold.

Her reunion with Grogu is practically cataclysmic. Din has never heard the kid shriek so loudly as when he sees her step into the cockpit, immediately reaching for her from his bassinet. 

“I’m sorry, Grogu. Just couldn’t let you go.” Her voice is a low murmur to the kid whom she had quickly scooped up, his small hands coming to splay across her cheeks as he babbles excitedly at her. She glances up at him, and Din catches the glint of sadness in her eyes. He slowly starts to realize what her choice really means, piecing it together with what Ahsoka had said about attachment.

She has chosen them, not in tandem with her path as a Jedi, but in place of her path as a Jedi.

…

She’s not sure what she just did, her mind whirling with anxiety as she replays her last conversation with Ahsoka.

“It is your decision, and I cannot stop you. But if you choose this now, it is likely that you will never return to this path again.” 

Her hands are shaking in her lap where she’s sitting on the edge of her bunk, the smoothness of hyperspace providing no explanation for the tremor. Did she just make the biggest mistake of her life?

“He’s finally out, I guess he finds me a lot more boring than you.” She’s startled out of her mind by Din’s voice as he steps down from the ladder into the hull. She offers him the best smile she can muster, tucking her trembling hands under her thighs as he comes to sit on a crate across from her.

“So, you coming with us– does that mean–” she cuts off his hedging question with a nod.

“I have renounced the path of the Jedi to travel with you.” She certainly hadn’t expected Din to react in anger, but he seems to be, getting up with a huff as he paces the length of the hold before finally looking at her again.

“You– you shouldn’t have done that.” Her heart sinks and she starts to think that maybe this really was a mistake.

“What? Din, I did it–”

“No.”

“I did it to–”

“No. Do not tell me you did this for me– I couldn’t bear it.” That upsets her enough to get her up on her feet and in the visor of his helmet, seething at him.

“Well that’s too bad. Because I did do it for you– and for him.” Din makes a sound low in his throat, turning away from her with a bitter laugh.

“You threw away your future– I can’t let this happen. I-I’m turning the ship around.” She can’t believe him, snapping into action when he actually starts to move back toward the ladder up to the cockpit.

“Din, wait! Just– will you listen to me? Wait– stop.” She grabs him by his shoulder, her hand sliding down his arm to tangle with his as he turns back around to her. She sighs when he doesn’t move away.

“I-I couldn’t continue on the Jedi path even if I wanted to. Not with the way that I feel– it would be too dangerous to become a Jedi with these– emotions that I can’t control.” His fingers flex where they’re entangled with hers.

“What is it you feel?” 

“I feel a lot of things. Things I shouldn’t feel. For Grogu– but also for you.” A heavy silence falls after she speaks. She nearly jumps out of her skin when he brings his other hand to graze over her cheek, the warm leather of his gloves sending a shiver down her spine.

“Dral tracinya.” She knows it’s Mandoan, but she’s never heard these words before, and she furrows her brow at him. She can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks again.

“It means bright flame. That’s what you are, I think. Not a Jedi, or an apostate. Something entirely of your own making.” She untangles her hand from his, letting both her palms splay over his chest before sliding up to the edge of his helmet. His hands circle her wrists and she stills.

“Will you let me see you, please?” He doesn’t say anything, but his hands slacken and she gently slides his helmet off, carefully setting it on the cargo crates next to them before really looking at him. Those brown eyes she had been holding in her mind now gaze down at her, fluttering closed when she brings her palms to cup his face. 

When she kisses him, it occurs to her that this is something Din has probably never done with anyone else, what with the whole helmet situation. It shows, in the unsure way his hands hover at her waist, and how she has to coax him along, her lips molding to his until he melts into it. When she pulls away, his eyes are wide and impossibly dark.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” She can’t help the laugh that bubbles up at his breathless question.

“I was training to be a Jedi, not a nun.” The next kiss is more certain for them both, Din’s hands finding purchase on her waist as they move together. She can feel energy pooling, burning along her spine as Din’s lips become more insistent against hers. He’s a fast learner. She pulls away with a gasp and he chases after her to steal another smacking kiss, resting his forehead against hers afterward.  

“You need to know– I feel a great deal for you too, tracinya. I made a vow to you, and I intend to keep it.” Her smile broadens at his words as she steps out of his hold, only slightly enjoying the furrowed look that washes over his face at the new distance between them. 

She raises her palm, each small wave of her wrist pulling away another piece of Din’s armor, gently floating them down to the floor around him. When he’s left before her in just his boots and flight suit, she begins to work at the knot at her waist, her eyes never straying from his as she leaves her tunic hanging loosely over her body. 

Din makes quick work of his boots before quietly padding toward her. His bare hands ghost over the parted fabric of her tunic, and she shudders when he finally slips it off her shoulders, leaving her bare from the waist up before him. She can hear the catch of his breath as his gaze washes over her. The only sound is the low thrum of hyperspace mingling with their sharp breaths as she guides his hands to splay over her collarbones. His rough palms tentatively start to wander, ghosting over the tops of her breasts, along the dip and swell of her sides, his eyes following the path of his hands, dark and hazy. 

No longer able to stand the tease of his touch, she twines her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss that’s quite different from their first two. This is a kiss that gives everything, and demands everything in return, a low noise thrumming in Din’s chest when she licks hotly into his mouth. Her hands slip down to fumble with the zipper of his flight suit, and he quickly gets the hint, batting her fingers away to undo it enough to shrug out of the sleeves, the fabric hanging loosely around his hips. It makes her dizzy, how solid he feels under her roaming palms, warm skin scattered with silvery scars that she traces across like constellations. Din doesn’t give her much time to explore before he’s stealing her lips in a hard kiss, swallowing the gasp she lets out as his tongue finds hers. He’s a really fast learner. 

He starts to walk them back, guiding her to lay out in her bunk. It’s tight quarters, her knees brushing along the walls where she has bent them to frame his waist, and it feels like he’s everywhere as his mouth begins to wander, smearing down her neck and across her chest. She takes a sharp inhale, arcing up into his mouth when he grazes his teeth over the peak of one of her nipples, his eyes flickering up to her in clear amusement. 

“Where did you learn how to do that?” He chuckles, sitting back on his knees as his fingers fumble with the lacing of her pants.

“I was a Mandalorian, not a monk.” Her laugh dies in her throat as he roughly tugs her pants down her legs, standing back up to pull them all the way off, leaving her completely bare before him. She can practically feel the heat of his gaze as his eyes roam over every inch of her. Din absent-mindedly shrugs his flight suit the rest of the way off, his eyes not once leaving her body. It doesn’t exactly surprise her that he wasn’t wearing underwear, but her eyes still widen at the sight of his cock. He’s big, there’s no two ways about it, and dizzyingly thick, a pretty pink flush at his tip that matches the heat blooming across his chest. 

Before she can stare at him much longer, he’s kneeling back between her spread legs, palms wandering down the insides of her thighs before resting at the hitch of her hip bones. She brushes his brown mop of hair out of his eyes and he turns his head to press a kiss to the inside of her palm, shocking her with the sweetness of it.

“Will you let me touch you, tracinya?” She nods, but from the way his fingers flex into the plush of her hips, she knows he wants to hear her say it.

“Yes, Din, I want you like this, please.” He leans down, the crooked grin he kisses her with coaxing a smile out of her as well. She’s only slightly embarrassed by the gasp that leaves her when he finally swipes the rough pads of his fingers through her folds, throwing her head back when he’s quick to find her clit and trace tight circles around it.

“So wet– is this all for me?” She breathes out a raspy yes to his question, her hips canting up into his hand when he slips two fingers inside her. As a student traveling with her master, she had engaged in meaningless trysts from time to time, but nothing has ever felt like this, like her whole body is a live wire, energy coursing through her with each stroke of his fingers. 

He keeps his other forearm framing her face, hovering over her and swallowing her sighs with open-mouthed kisses as he coaxes her closer to the edge. 

“Let go for me, ner tracinya. That’s it- let me see you burn.” My flame, she knows enough Mandoan now to understand that’s what he just called her, and the thought of it is enough to send the energy pooling in her spine scattering through her body as she comes, a cry of his name the only sound she can make. 

The overhead lights of the bunk flicker as she rides out her high and Din’s eyes dart around in worry, pulling away only for her to tug him back down as she laughs around a kiss.

“Was that– was that you?” She grins, her fingers grazing up and down his shoulder blades.

“That was you– what you did to me.” His lips part, wonder a clear wash across his face and she can’t help but laugh again. He chases after the sound with a hard kiss, both of them sighing when the heat of his cock settles along the softness of her thigh.

“Let me have you, Din. I want you just like this.” He fists the base of himself, hissing as he draws his tip through her heat.

“You have me– however you want me– I’m all yours.” She digs her nails into his shoulders when he finally presses into her, her eyes scrunching shut at the stretching ache that singes pleasure into her bones. When his hips finally fit with hers, he groans, his forehead pressing down into her sternum as she draws her ankles to twine around his low back. She presses a kiss into his damp hair, coaxing him to look up at her.

“Move for me, Din. Let me feel you.” She didn’t think she’d ever hear a Mandalorian whimper, but that’s the exact sound he seems to make, low and broken in the back of his throat, as he pulls his hips back only to roll into her again, finding the push and pull of it amidst their shared sighs and gasps.

The lights begin to flicker again as she feels the flames of pleasure building, preening into Din’s thrusts as his mouth smears over whatever skin he can reach. 

“Need to feel you, tracinya. Come for me, please.” His hand skates down to rest warm over her stomach, fingers finding her clit in a lazy swirl that has her clenching hard around him. She whines out his name and he shushes her, murmuring lowly in her ear.

“Just like that– so beautiful– perfect– perfect for me– let go– that’s it–” He eases her into this high with his gentle coaxing, but the pleasure burns bright and hard once it hits, her nails digging into his shoulders as she lets out a gasping cry. One of the lights bursts, fine shards raining down on them as Din pulls out of her spasming cunt with a harsh groan, hovering over her as he finishes with a few weak thrusts into his hand, his warmth painting her stomach. 

He slumps over her, both of them heaving in a tangle of sweat and pleasure as they try to steady their breathing. She finds one of his hands with her own, twining their fingers together. Din squeezes her hand, pressing a kiss to the juncture of her neck before lifting himself up to look at her.

“That thing with the lights– does that– normally happen?” She sputters out a laugh at his obviously earnest question, bringing her other hand to trace his nose, the arc of his brow, the curve of his lips. Her own map of him on her fingertips.

“I have never experienced anything like that. Does that answer your question?” He seems to like her response, a smile threatening the crook of his lips as he gazes at her. She arches her neck and he seems to get the hint, dipping down to press a chaste kiss to her lips before he slumps over to the side, his arms still lazily draped over her, their legs still tangled. She lets out a long sigh, her eyes not leaving his.

“We should probably get cleaned up. The kid somehow always ends up in my bunk at night and I’d really rather he didn’t find us like this.” Din huffs at that, pressing his face into the inside of her bicep.

“Just a few more moments like this, please.” She hums, musing that his words hold more meanings than just one. Just a few more moments like this, without the worry of whether Grogu will be able to continue his training, without the worry of Moff Gideon potentially still searching for them, without the worry of what this all means, this new path they have just gone hurtling down. Just a few more moments in which all that matters is the way her fingers are trailing through his hair and the way his lips keep grazing over the slope of her shoulder. Just a few more moments of sweetness before they return to reality. 

“Alright, Din. Only a little bit longer, though.”

“Whatever you say, ner tracinya.”

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

A Recipe for Disaster (Chap. 8)

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | Pt. 5 | Pt. 6 | Pt. 7 | AO3

Here's Chap. 8! Clocking in at 19.5 pages on google docs this time, we have Steve and Robin's meeting with Parliament about the children's shelter, the throne room scene that I somehow missed before, and a good ol' Robin and Eddie interaction (plus much more!!!)

The next morning, Steve and Robin are sitting down for a meeting with a select few members of Parliament. Wayne is there with them, and Steve thinks it’s giving him a chance to look mean, if nothing else.

“And so, gentlemen, the winter palace in the mountains of Libbet will be converted into a children’s shelter until money can be raised for one of their own.”

“The use of the castle as a resort is a sort of…perk. For parliament members and dignitaries.” the member sitting on his left (on Robin’s other side) interjects, the other two agreeing with short nods and hushed “Agreed.”s. 

“Well, I’m going to de-perk it.” Steve levels him with a look that has him shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I feel guilty having two homes while they have none.”

He hears one of the other members whispering from his right and snaps his attention toward the other two. “Lord Crawley, how is your brother doing?” 

Crawley has the decency to look embarrassed for being caught, “I–I don’t speak to my brother, Your Highness.”

“Oh. Well, I’ve hired him to be the lead architect on the project!” Steve smiles. Wayne raises his hand and the doorman lets Mr. Crawley into the chambers.

Mr. Crawley greets Wayne when he pulls out the seat kitty-corner to Steve’s. Steve stands and shakes his hand “Your highness, gentlemen.”

They both sit, and Mr. Crawley gives his (twin) brother a curt “Jerry.” that his brother echoes with “Dean.”

“I am very excited to get started, your highness, and to get your notes on the project!...and no one else’s.”

That last bit of backhanded commentary gets Lord Crawley riled up and the two start bickering between themselves, and over the unfortunate third parliament member stuck between them.

Steve leans toward Robin while keeping his eyes on the two, whispering “Nevermind, I’m glad we aren’t twins?”

She snorts out a quick laugh and busies herself with her notes, though he’s sure they’re as immaculate as always.

He raps his knuckles on the table in front of him as the twins’ fight reaches its peak, and the two back off instantly, looking sheepish.

“The queen approves of the plan, and I intend to see it through. Now, gentlemen, I’m sure it won’t take too long to raise the money, do you?” 

–

“So, you kissed Eddie, huh?” Robin asked once they were heading back to get Steve ready for his and Joyce’s scheduled open meeting with the public.

Steve sighs, “Yeah, I did. We did? We kinda kissed each other at the same time.”

“So…? How’d you even get close enough to kiss?”

“I uh…” He scratches the back of his head absently “I told him how I felt. About him.”

“That you have capital “F” feelings for him right? That’s what you said yesterday.”

He lets out a long breath and stops walking. He looks down at the tile at his feet, hands on his hips. “That’s…not exactly..all of it.”

“What do you mean ‘not all of it’?? You have big Feelings for him, that seems like a whole lot.”

“It is all big, real, Feelings, but…I saw our whole lives together, Rob.” it’s just barely more than a whisper.

Robin is quiet for a few seconds “Steve, that’s–” 

She’s cut off by the incoming sound of footsteps. They both look over, and let out a synchronized breath of relief. It’s only Murray. 

“Oh! Murray!” Robin jogs up to meet the man, saying something to him that Steve couldn’t pick up. Murray nods the whole time, assuringly, then pats Robin on the shoulder and continues on his way.

“Good morning, sir!” is all he says to Steve as he passes, then Robin is back.

“What was all that about?”

“I just needed to ask him about some other Royal Advisor shit I’ve been working on, but keep going! You haven’t told me about these prophetic visions of the future you’ve been seeing! Does Eddie become a silver fox? Do you eventually go bald?”

Steve’s hands fly to his hair, “Oh my god, Robin, don’t say shit like that! You’ll curse me!” he starts walking toward his suite again. 

“Oh please, you’ll be fine, your grandpa had a full head of hair on his deathbed. Now tell meee!”

“Okay, okay, so back when Nancy first got here, I told her the truth, that I got a big ol’ crush on tall, dark, and handsome after one dance but then found out that he and his dad are trying to run me out so that had crushed me.”

“Duh.”

“So she asked me if I could see myself with him, and I told her no. Y’know, like a liar.”

“Sounds about right.”

“But I saw it so clearly as soon as she asked me, and it was like my chest caught fire.”

“Thinking about yours and Eddie’s possible future together gave you heartburn?”

“No, no, like, okay, at my peeping tom moment, as you like to call it, it felt like something sparked in my chest; and I, of course, took that as hatred.”

“Yeah, ‘how dare he be a real person with a real hobby’.” She nods.

Steve snaps his finger at her. “Exactly. So when she asked me that, that spark that ended up not being hatred started burning so hot…and I could see it all, Robin. I could see him off to the side at my coronation, smiling all proud at me. I could see him at my side when we’d meet with the public. We, Robin, side by side. And I could picture the portrait they’d have painted of us, a little older, some gray in our hair, sure, hanging right beside Joyce and Bob.

“I told Nancy I couldn’t see it, and the day of the garden party I told Eddie that I’d lied to her, that I really could see it all, but that I’d be wiping my hands of him.” He does the same fake during his hands off movement he did that day.

“So…in essence, you told him you could very clearly picture a life with him, AKA you have big sappy feelings for him, then that you hated him.” They’d arrived back at his suite, so Robin lets herself in and holds the door open for him. 

“No, I–” Steve runs his hand through his hair. “Okay, yeah, basically. But when I went to leave, he grabbed my arm, whirled me around, and we kissed.

“We were pressed together, and it was like my brain switched off completely, not a thought in my head. We both started leaning toward each other..then it happened.”

“Ew gross, this is so sappy.” Robin flopped herself onto his bed and pillowed her chin in her hands, looking up at him to continue.

Steve rolls his eyes, but does. “Here's something else cliche and sappy: I know what they mean now when they say there are fireworks sometimes, when you kiss someone.” He laughs at Robin’s mimed puking. “I’m serious! His lips were soft, his hands were calloused and warm, and…and he held my face like I was something precious. Something worth holding onto.

“But then I came to my senses, pushed him off me, causing him to fall backwards into that damn fountain, causing me to fall when I tried to catch him, giving me a bruise, a soaking wet, nearly see-through suit, and a litany of “Prince Steve” fanpages posting zoomed-in pictures of my crotch.”

“All that, and you still almost kissed him again yesterday.” She shakes her head at him in exasperation.

“Oh! And he told me that he wished he could know what I’m working with, so I guess you were right, he does have feelings for me too.”

“That’s great!”

“Only sexual though, seems like. Which is fine, I get it. Just. Sucks, you know?”

Robin starts grumbling under her breath at that, so he leaves her be and starts getting ready to meet with the public. This time he pulls out the powder blue version of what is becoming his signature pear-tree printed suit.

“You should get ready too, you’re going with me to the throne room, right?”

She jumps up from the bed “Oh yeah! Meet you there, Dingus!” Then she was gone.

–

“We will have someone come to your farm tomorrow morning and perhaps we can repair your well, and save your feed.” Joyce addresses the man stooped down in front of her. 

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” He bows his head, then reaches for the basket at his knees “This is for your table.”

“Thank you!” Joyce says, bowing slightly in return and sweeping her hand out for the footman at their side to take the basket.

While the basket is taken away, Steve grabs a goblet of water from behind them, and passes it to his Aunt. “You do this so well, they all just adore you.”

She takes the goblet thankfully, looking up at him from the throne when she does. “Oh, well it’s part of a long-standing Genovian tradition to meet with the citizens this way. You must be fair and very honest. Even if you can’t help, you have to show the people you care.”

Steve smiles at her “We haven’t had time to talk much lately, can we after this?”

Joyce’s face softens, and she reaches up to pat his cheek. “Of course my dear.”

Murray introduces the next citizen then, and Steve takes the water back from Joyce.

Steve looks out over the throne room, over the waiting line of citizens, and all the way over to the wall on his right where a few chairs have been set up. All of them are occupied: Robin is sitting in the first chair, texting furiously with one hand at her side and writing down something in the pad of paper on her knee with the other. Wayne is in the next, struggling to stay awake already and starting to lean onto Eddie who’s in the next chair over. Eddie’s already been looking at Steve every time he risks a glance to the other man, and every time Steve has to think about literally anything else to keep the blush off his face. Eddie’s father is here too for some godforsaken reason, but makes a good foil for his reaction to Eddie. Get flustered about Eddie? Just look over to the last chair in the row and remember what Eddie’s really doing here.

The constant high to low mood shift is giving him a headache.

More citizens come through the line, each offering something for the royal family. It’s very touching, having each of these people put together the best of their best, likely from their families own crop, own shop, own hands for Joyce. Steve feels even more so like he has a lot to live up to, coming into the throne after someone as beloved as her.

“Citizen Tiny Duvall.” Murray announces once again.

Okay, that’s just not fair. Only movies name obviously very large people ‘Tiny’.

“Your Majesty.” Tiny beams at Joyce, not from below, but at her level. Seated a couple steps up from the floor, her height in the throne leaves her and Tiny, who is kneeling, at the same eye level.

“Bonjour, Tiny.” She smiles “May I present my nephew, Prince Steve.” She’s done this with a couple of the citizens who’ve visited, calling out his presence at her side for a reason unknown to Steve.

“Prince Steve,” Tiny turns his bright eyes to him and gives a small head bow.

“Monsieur.” Steve greets in return.

“Thank you for seeing me today. Something for your table.” He pushes the covered basket in his hands to Steve, who gestures the same way he had for all the other offerings, and the footman takes the basket from Tiny.

“She’s my favorite!” Tiny declares, and Steve immediately needs to know more. “I hope you like omelets.”

Steve glances at Joyce and huffs out a short chuckle, “Uh, may I?” He asks Tiny, gesturing to the basket.

“Of course!” He nods excitedly so Steve pulls back the cover and..it’s a chicken? “Be careful.”

“Oh, it’s a chicken!” whatever it is that possesses Steve to try and pick the chicken (an animal he’s had exactly zero interactions with in the past) up out of the basket, he doesn’t know, but he does. And the chicken flaps out of his arms and to the floor.

‘Oh what the hell?’ He steps forward and tries to grab it back up, and misses, and misses again, and again. It’s stupid fat, feathery body is staying just out of his reach, and causing chaos in her wake.

She’s climbing up the steps in front of Joyce and Steve thinks ‘I’ve got you now’ as she slows down to hop up the marble steps.

Just his luck, he misses her (again) and she starts off on her circular path through the corridor behind the throne (once again). But he can’t follow the feathery warlord, being caught by Joyce as he lopes past her.

“Uh, Steve?” She says to him through a grin, and he turns to her “a prince should never chase a chicken.”

Steve stands there next to Joyce, jaw dropped open, and wholly embarrassed, and looks over to where Eddie is seated.

Viscount Muñoz is chuckling heartily and elbowing Eddie, who is laughing uncomfortably at his father, but looks to Steve and they lock eyes

‘You okay?’ Eddie mouths to him, a lighthearted, still teasing, smile on his face.

The tension in Steve’s chest snaps and falls away at that and he lets out a breath, giving Eddie a small nod.

–

“Stupid, stupid, stupid, what the fuck, Steve?” Steve mutters to himself all the way back to his suite after the throne room debacle.

He showers to get out all the gel he’d slicked into his hair previously, and fixes it up the way he would normally. After he changes into a plain white tee and some jeans, he texts Robin and asks her to meet him for a late lunch. 

It’s already past three in the afternoon and he hadn’t had anything to eat since a quick cup and coffee and some toast before his first meeting this morning.

Robin texts him back with: ‘Sorry Dingus, I have Super Important Things™ to catch up on, I will see you for dinner?’

He’s disappointed, but not surprised. She does, afterall, have her own responsibilities within the palace. 

He sends back a ‘sure, see ya then bobs’, and continues down to the kitchens. 

This time it’s Max, El, and Dustin he encounters, all of them munching on whatever snacks they could find while Max is chopping what looks like salad ingredients.

“Yeah, but Max, Lucas plays and–” Dustin starts

“What does that have to do with me playing? I don’t care what he does or doesn’t play.”

“I would like to play some time.” Ellie says, and Dustin starts in on an explanation of character creation? If Steve had to guess?

“Hey, munchkins, what’s cookin’?”

Max rolls her eyes so hard that her whole head almost goes with them. “Well, dad, nothing at the moment. Seeing as how I am chopping up lettuce, that historically does not get cooked.”

Steve pauses, then turns to face El and Dustin more. “Hey, munchkins, what’s cookin’?”

El and Dustin both laugh while Max rolls her eyes again. “Careful, those might roll out of your head one of these days.” Steve tells her.

“See?” She points her knife at him, looking at the other two “Dad.”

“I was just telling El about creating a character for the campaign Eddie’s crafting right now.” Dustin puts his hand out onto El’s forearm and Steve notices her face go red

“Oh that’s cool what are–El, you oka–” Max clears her throat and locks eyes with Steve before using them to gesture to the other two, shaking her head.

Ah. “So what kind of character are you going to make?”

“I thought I could be a wizard, like Will.”

“Oh, that’d be cool! I wonder if Eddie would let us get away with boosting yours and Will’s stats whenever you are casting together? Like, real wonder twin wizards!”

Dustin starts on a rant about all the possibilities and starts scribbling into the notebook in front of him.

Steve shuffles off to the side and pulls out a pack of tuna and some mayo, planning on just a sandwich for now, to hold him over until dinner with Robin.

He fixes it up and heads back up the stairs, eating as he goes, to meet Joyce at her suite.

–

So the scream he’d heard, and came to investigate, ended up being El Hopper. 

He’d come around the corner below the two staircases in the ballroom like he does nearly every day after waking up, only to be confronted with shadow and a new wall?

He comes out from under what he now can see is a ramp, and sees each of the teens taking turns sliding down a massive slide on mattresses, each sliding to a stop just before a short stage set up on the opposite end of the ballroom.

He looks to the top of the ramp, and Dustin is the next to go, El getting up off her mattress and moving out of his way. “You having fun?” he yells up.

“Eddie! Hang on, I'll be right down!” Dustin calls back then starts down the ramp.

“You.” his head snaps to his left and Steve’s right hand woman is in his face. “I need to talk to you.”

“Sure, Buckley, go ahead.”

She opens her mouth to respond, but then Dustin’s there “Hey! Are you going to stay for the party?”

“No he’s not, he’s here cause I needed to talk to him then he’s going right back to his room.” Robin grabs his arm and tugs him out the glass side door of the ballroom (“Aw, what?”).

“Ow, ow okay, I’m right here, lay off the arm.”

She lets his arm go. “Enough chit chat, listen to me Edwin, (“Edmund.” “Literally doesn’t matter.”), I am only telling you this out of necessity and to get you to understand my point BUT.” She takes a deep breath, “Steve is really into you, okay? His words exactly were that he has capital “F” Feelings for you.”

Eddie knew the former, but the actual feelings part is news to him.

“I–”

“He was under the impression previously that you were only trying to get close to him in order to get him to not marry Nancy, and in turn not become King. And from what he told me, it seems like you really are only thirsting after him.”

“He said th–”

Robin cuts him off. “He would do anything to see this through, including ignoring his own feelings for quote, unquote ‘tall, dark, and handsome’ for the sake of the homophobes above him.”

“The homophobes? What are you talking about?”

“Parliament, obviously. He’s marrying Nancy because they don’t think having two kings is good for the country.” She says as if it’s obvious. “They told him that he has to marry a noblewoman in order to take the throne, otherwise they’ll give it to you. You, sans partner.”

“Wh-what? Why?”

“I don’t know, Doofus, he thinks you’re 170 pounds of pure sex appeal.”

“No, no not that,” Eddie shakes his head and waves her off, “I mean, I’m flattered, and obviously he’s sexy as fuck (“Okay, ew.”), but no, I mean why would Parliament let me take the throne without a partner but not Steve.”

“Probably the previously mentioned ‘homophobe’ part, Edward. Do they not know you’re fruity too?”

Eddie shakes his head, “Don’t see why they would…”

“Well they do know about Steve. There was a whole media fiasco with his old best friend back in the states.”

Eddie’s stunned at this revelation, but Robin barrels on. “So as much as I would support you two in any other circumstances, I–”

“Robin, I have capital “F” Feelings for him too.” Eddie cuts her off.

She just stares at him, dumbfounded, so he continues. “Look, the day before yesterday, Steve told me he could so easily picture our lives together when Nancy once asked him.” Eddie starts pacing in front of the ballroom door. “He told me that he lied to her, said he couldn’t, but that he actually pictured it so clearly. He didn’t tell me what he saw, but I could see it, Rob. I could see it so clearly.”

“What are you talking about, Edith?”

“I was in the gardens that day when Nancy asked him that. I was sitting out there like I normally do and could hear them as they walked by. She asked him “You could see yourself with him, couldn’t you?” and it was like she was asking me. I could see it as soon as she asked.

“I could see myself at his coronation, smiling all proud at him. I could see myself at his side in the throne room when he’d meet with the citizens, at his side at any number of random events that flashed through my head all at once…just..being with him.

“He told me he saw us together so clearly, and I never told him that I saw it too. It felt like my chest was on fire, Robin.”

He is breathing heavily now, having winded himself with all that.

“Eddie…” Robin steps forward and places a hand on his shoulder.

Eddie huffs out a laugh, “Finally Eddie now, huh?”

“Don’t push your luck, Theodore.”

“Theodore?? How the hell did you get to that from ‘Eddie’?”

“You know, Theodore can be Ted, to Teddy, to Eddie.” She shrugs.

“Okay, you got me there Robert.”

Robert smiles at him. “You both are the dingiest dinguses I’ve ever met.” She coos at him, like he’s a child and it works, he barks out a real laugh this time and tosses her hand off his shoulder.

“Are you guys done, yet? Can we steal Eddie back?” Dustin poked his head out the door, scowling at them.

“Almost, I promise. I’ll meet you back inside Dusty-buns.” Eddie replies

“Dude, gross. Only my mom calls me that.” but he goes back inside.

“What am I supposed to do now Robin?”

“I don’t know…I wanted to get you to back the fuck off, but now I’m kinda rooting for you guys. As undeniably a bad idea it’d be.”

“You are?”

“I don’t know, I think you’d be good together, sue me.”

“Then why root against us in the first place?”

“Because I want my best friend to become King! No offense.”

“None taken. I don’t even want it anymore.” Eddie thinks for a moment. “What about Nancy?”

“What about her?”

“How does she feel about all this?”

Robert thinks for a moment then opens the door and yells “Hey, Nance!”

Eddie panics, “Robin, what the hell??”

“Hi Robin, what’s…up…” Nancy stalls when she sees Eddie outside too. He gives her a small wave.

“Eddie’s fully, actually in love with Steve.”

“Robin! What the fuck?!”

Nancy looks between Robin and Eddie (who is absolutely mortified, by the way), then dissolves into giggles.

“Okay, what the hell is happening, this is like some Twilight Zone shit.”

“Steve is pretty great, isn’t he?” Nancy says, looking at Eddie.

He drops his head in embarrassment, “I’m sorry, Your Highness, I promise I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“Who ever does?”

Eddie looks back up at her and she’s smiling softly at him. “Okay, seriously, what the hell is happening right now? You should be wanting to fight me right now.”

“Do you want me to?” Nancy says and starts pushing the sleeves of her sweater up her arms.

Robin keels over in laughter when Eddie starts backing away, hands raised.

“So? Robin?” Nancy asks

Robin catches her breath, “So, they both have real feelings for each other and after telling me, Eddie here asked how you feel about the whole thing.”

Nancy nods with a sigh. “Eddie, I care for Steve very much. He’s become a great friend and supporter to me, even in the short amount of time I’ve known him.”

“But…?”

“I am not in love with him. I have feelings for someone else.” Eddie nods, and she continues. “I am still going to marry him, if he needs me.”

“That’s kinda fucked.”

“It is; I agree, Robin agrees, Steve agrees. But I wouldn’t be if I didn’t think Steve would be an amazing ruler. Do you even know how great he’d be?”

“I do.” Robin says.

“We know you do, Robs.” Nancy pats her on the arm. “Steve is the grandson of the most beloved ruler in recent Genovian history, and the son of a royal pain in the ass.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Eddie mumbles.

“Steve is more like Stephan the First, and would be a welcome and needed change in the landscape of European monarchs. A vibrant young man of the people, someone who’s made mistakes like any person would, had them blasted across international media, and grown from them since. Overall, a great representation of the next generation of rulers. Plus, I think he’s a good influence on, and role model for, Mike, and will make him a better ruler in the future.”

Nancy smiles an easy smile, as if she didn’t just make him fall in love with Steve more.

“All that, and you’re telling me you’re not in love with him?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Okay, great. Now what am I supposed to do with that?”

“As much as I want Steve to be happy, with you or not, there is so much that could go wrong with you two being together, even the smallest thing could make his life a living hell.

“If he and I marry, then divorce in a few years, we can both have what we want. I can be with Jon–the person I want to be with–and so can he.”

“So when you say a few years, how many are we talking? Two? Three?”

“Unless the peanut gallery gets real cool about a lot of things real quick, sounds like as many as it takes.” Robin says.

“I fully believe you and Steve would have the support of the people, or at least the majority, but they can’t do anything to sway Parliament if they don’t want to be swayed.” 

Eddie nods as he processes all this, even pulling a lock of his hair over his face to worry the strands between his fingers as he thinks.

He stops, fixes his hair, turns to the two women and says: “I will wait for him if I need to. Steve’s worth it.” The two women beam at him, “But let's get back inside before Dustin has a conniption. What are we–you guys–celebrating anyway?”

“We are throwing a surprise bachelor party for Steve!” Robin pushes open the door and holds it for the other two.

“And joint bachelorette party for me too I suppose, but it was just because I’m not heading back home anymore.” Nancy shrugs “I’d rather be with you guys here anyway. Oh! We should’ve invited Chrissy!”

Robin starts spluttering and Nancy catches Eddie’s eye and winks. 

He grins back at her “You’re absolutely right, Nancy, I should give her a call!” He pulls out his cell and Robin goes completely red. “Eddie! How are you?” Chrissy answers his call after a few short rings.

–

Steve and Joyce have spent the last couple hours together; talking about everything and nothing while Joyce took care of some things first, then they went out for a stroll through the yards of the palace. 

He told her about Dustin knowing that Mike played D&D (“I don’t know any specifics, so don’t ask.”) immediately after meeting the young prince, and that he seems to be less high-strung and less entitled now, having been around Dustin and Will.

She told him that the coronation is scheduled for August 1st, two months to the day after he and Nancy are supposed to be married. 

He told her that he thinks Ellie has a crush on Dustin, and Joyce laughs giddily at that (“Oh, they would be so cute together!”)

She asks him if he is happy.

Steve processes that for a bit, while they walk back to the palace. “I think I am content. I am happy with what I have, I know that I really lucked out with Nancy, and having Robin here, meeting Dustin and gaining a little brother. But I don’t think I would say I am happy, you know?”

She nods in understanding at that, then asks “Would you be able to say you are happy if it was Edmund you were marrying, and not Nancy?”

He blinks at her, but it seems like she’s actually asking (not that Joyce would be capable of showing a hint of malice to her nephew). “I don’t know…” Is what he finally says.

She levels him with a look like she doesn’t believe him.

“I don’t though!” he defends, “Really! I don’t know him so I really don’t know. But in my head, best case scenario, yeah. I think I would be.” the last part comes out almost a whisper.

She nods, taking that in, and they walk in comfortable silence the rest of the way. 

“Wait, what is that? Steve can hear muffled music coming from the palace as they approach.

He looks through the glass doors and sees…everyone? The whole Party (as Dustin would call them) running amok in the ballroom. Erica is chasing Max around the room on rollerskates, Max on top of a well-loved looking skateboard, Will and Ellie are trying to take razor scooters off short plastic ramps, and the ramp had been set up from the upper level, Mike, Lucas, Dustin, and Eddie(??) are all taking turns sliding down on mattresses. Nancy, Robin, and Chrissy are lying about on two of the mattresses in front of a short stage, and there are tables piled high with snacks and drinks and sandwiches on one side of the stage, and a huge pile of blankets and pillows on the opposite side.

Steve is flabbergasted, “Are they having a slumber party?” he laughs. Joyce steps back from the doors then, pulling one open and stepping in, Steve close behind

Eddie’s gaze catches on Joyce and Steve as they enter, he and Dustin are standing on their mattress (halfway down already), trying to surf their way to the bottom. It seems like he straightens on instinct and the movement causes Dustin to faceplant onto the mattress, and Eddie to flop backward off the mattress and onto the metal ramp. His head connects with the slide with a resounding gong and he slides down the rest of the way on his back.

Steve rushes forward to help him up, which Eddie refuses. “That was embarrassing. You can just leave me here to die, your highness.”

Steve rolls his eyes and offers his hand again, which Eddie takes and allows Steve to haul him up off the floor. “No dying on my ballroom floor, Muñoz.” Steve says, keeping Eddie pulled into his chest for a moment before releasing him and moving over to Dustin to make sure he was alright.

“Eddie, what the hell we almost had th–” Dustin looks up to see Joyce smiling at him, “Your majesty, my apologies for my language.”

Steve stifles a laugh behind his hand. 

“It’s quite alright Mr. Henderson, may I take a turn next?”

Everyone falls silent at that. “Y-yeah, of course ma’am, let me bring it up for you!” Dustin picks up the mattress excitedly and rushes up the stairs with it, Joyce following behind. 

Everyone else stops to watch whatever it is that’s about to happen. 

Joyce gets to the top, Dustin having set the mattress up right at the edge of the slide. Then she stands on it. Like she is going to surf the mattress down.

“Is she really going to do this?” Robin says, having come up to Steve’s side.

“Uh…” is all he gets out before, yep, there she goes. Joyce jumps forward a bit onto the front of the mattress to get it going, arms out, and slides. Standing, all the way to the bottom.

“Ta da!”

The ballroom erupts into cheers and the teens crowd close around Joyce, fully in awe at what she was able to do, and Dustin (and Eddie) weren't.

“I tried that like 15 times! How do you know how to do that?!”

“That was incredible! You’re the coolest!”

All of them talking over one another until, “I grew up here, you know; my father, my brother and I all loved to surf down and see who could make it the furthest.”

They again all started talking over each other, until “Alright, you goblins, let Queen Joyce take her leave. We have the rest of the party to get to, now that Steve’s here.” Robin herded them away from Joyce, who climbed back up the stairs to her quarters with a wave to the rest. 

“Okay, so what’s happening now?”

“Surprise! It’s your bachelor party!” Robin throws her arms out to gesture at the room around them. “We set it up while you were gone with Joyce!”

“I said we should’ve gotten you some strippers but Robin said no.” Mike interjects

“Ew, gross dude, it’s Nancy’s party too.”

“Then she should’ve gone home like she planned to, Max.”

“ANYWAY.” Robin cut off their bickering. “It’s Steve’s bachelor party and it is what it is because I know Steve and this is what he’d want. We’ve got the ramp set up, music, sandwiches and snacks that yes, you can have now that he’s here, and 80s/90s karaoke. A Steve Party.” she shrugs at the end.

They all look toward Steve when she’s done, and he’s beaming. His face hurts already, but he couldn’t stop if he tried. “What are you all looking at me for, go wild!” He shoos them all away and they do just that, most of them going for the food now that they can. “Just don’t hurt yourselves! Max, I’m looking at you, no skateboarding down the ramp I swear to god.” Steve follows them to the food.

–

“So who’s gonna get karaoke started?” Eddie asks the gathered masses, all sprawled out on the mattresses piled in front of the stage with their snacks and sandwiches.

“You said it, now it’s gotta be you.” Max snarks back, not looking up from her phone.

“It’s all old stuff anyway, we aren’t going to know much.” Erica says from Max's side. ‘Hoo boy that is a dangerous combo’ Eddie thinks to himself

“It’s not that old!” Steve says, half mock, half actually offended. “You’ll probably know some of them.”

It was definitely a surprise when Steve’d decided to plop himself down next to Eddie, but a welcome one (though he could do without the looks Chrissy had been throwing at the two of them).

Speaking of, Eddie looks over to Chrissy, who’s a couple bodies down, sitting on the floor in front of Robin.

“Chrissy!” She looks over at him and he raises her eyebrow “Shall we?”

Grinning brightly, she pops up from the floor “Abso-fuckin-lutely.”

“Okay, hold on. What was that, should we be worried? I’m worried.” Steve is looking between the two as they hop up on stage, effectively pulling the attention of the others, who look up at him and Chrissy expectantly.

“You all will know this one, it’s mine and Chrissy’s go-to song.”

The first two notes is all it takes before everyone around them is screaming.

“Hiya, Barbie.”

“Hi Ken!”

They all start yelling along to Eddie and Chrissy’s absolutely amazing rendition of Barbie girl, and once they’re done, all the teens are fighting over who gets to go next.

“Really? Barbie Girl?” Steve asks when he sits back down.

Eddie shrugs, “Yeah, it’s a real ice breaker, but it’s also the only karaoke you’ll get out of me, so I hope you enjoyed that.”

“Yeah, it was pretty great.” Steve smiles a megawatt smile at him and Eddie almost forgets how to breathe.

After a double hit of ABBA (“Dancing Queen” from Max and El, and “Super Trouper” from Nancy, the rest of them unable to resist providing the backup vocals), “Should I Stay or Should I Go” from Will (and Jonathan who’d wandered in at some point and decided to stay), “Don’t Stop Believin’” from Lucas and Dustin, “All Star” from Mike, and a super impassioned “Man, I Feel Like a Woman” from Erica that had everyone singing along, Steve took a turn.

The plain white tee and jeans combo really added to his performance of “Dancing in the Dark”, looking every bit the part of Springsteen. Eddie wanted to eat him.

“Okay that’s not fair, Springsteen’s so in your register. Not gonna do anything daring, Stevie?”

Steve’d been about to put the mic down, but raised a brow at Eddie’s taunt and raised it back to his mouth. “Okay, you little shit.” he punches something into the machine and…

“Can anybody find me somebody to love?” Just in that one line he’d proven his point, his voice shifting through the whole opening line’s highest and lowest notes with no effort at all.

He sings the rest of the song effortlessly, much to the delight of his crowd who were all singing along. 

Eddie knows his heart eyes are obvious, but it doesn’t matter. 

“Now what about you, Muñoz, gonna do another song or are you just here to heckle the rest of us?” Steve asks after he’s done.

Ignoring the taunting 'oooohhs' from the rest of the peanut gallery, Eddie says “Not a chance, big boy, but I may have something better. Give me ten minutes.” He hops up and jogs back to his room and after a quick change, heads back to the ballroom, his sweetheart in hand. 

“No fuckin’ way, is that a warlock??” Mike jumps up as soon as he sees Eddie again, running up to see up close.

Everyone else turns to look and a few start throwing whoops and wolf whistles at the sight of him.

“Whoa now, step away from the guitar. You’ll get your gross Mike germs all over her.”

“Rude. Also, the hell are you wearing?”

They’re back at the semi-circle with everyone else, and he sets his mini amp and his baby onto the stage. “Oh, this?” He spreads out his arms and gives a slow spin, letting everyone take in his carefully crafted battle vest, vintage band tee, and favorite ripped jean combo. “This is me, Mikey; Eddie Muñoz, nice to meet you.” He sticks out his hand for Mike to shake and the teen rolls his eyes and bats his hand away.

“This is insane, you look like Hammett,” Jonathan points at Eddie, “and you look like Springsteen.” pointing at Steve. “This is turning into a real 80s fest.”

Steve preens at that, and all Eddie can think to say is “You know Metallica?”

“Everyone knows Metallica.” Mike cuts back in

“Oh, don’t even start, Mike, as if you know any of their names. You just know ‘Metallica’.”

Mike grumbles and moves to tackle Dustin back onto the mattress, nearly elbowing Lucas in the scuffle.

“Okay, okay, enough!” Steve calls, getting the boys to stop. “So, Eddie, you gonna put on a concert for us?”

“Eh, something like that.” Eddie rubs the back of his neck “I’m no singer but I wanted to pull her out and play while I had some sort of chance.”

“Have at it, man, the floor is yours.” Steve smiles and gestures to the stage.

Eddie gets his shit plugged in and set up, listening to the conversations around him as he does.

“Eddie had a band back in secondary school, they were horrible and scream-y but I thought they were all so cool.” Chrissy is telling Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan (who’d made himself comfy next to Nancy).

“Am I seriously considering getting a denim vest right now?” He hears Dustin wonder aloud.

“It’s not just a vest, bonehead, it’s a battle jacket. It’s different.” Erica (surprisingly) says.

“How in the hell do you know that?” Lucas asks as Eddie plugs the mic into his amp too.

“If you actually like music, you’d know that every community has their thing, Sinclair.” Max cuts in “Battle vests are metalheads’ thing.”

“Can you make one even if you aren’t a metalhead?” Eddie can hear Dustin ask quietly.

“That you can, Dusty, just make sure you know the history before you do.” Eddie shucks off the vest in question and tosses it to Dustin “Be careful with it, will you?” Dustin nods, him and the other four already distracted by his pins and patches. 

Eddie slings his sweetheart around his neck, ready to go, and sees Steve, El and Will sitting cross-legged on the mattress directly in front of him, all three looking at him expectantly.

“Okay, you all. I’m not a singer, but I hope at least one of you knows this one.” Eddie says into the mic, then strums. 

–

The teens around him erupt into cheers and Erica yells “Master of Puppets!”

Eddie points at her with a grin and keeps going, fingers going a mile a minute and Steve is enthralled.

Steve’s come to accept that Eddie will literally always look damn good, but he looks Damn. Good. up on that stage; guitar in hand, hair taken out of the bun it was in before and flying with every movement, the fucking eyeliner he’d added with his “real Eddie” clothes that’d made Steve’s mouth go dry.

They all cheer and scream when Eddie’s done with his song, and he starts in on another, playing a few chords before Erica again is yelling out the name of the song. The song changes and this time Jonathan guesses correctly; on and on with different songs, changing each once someone guesses correctly. 

Steve finally recognizes one, “I Was Made For Lovin’ You!” he yells before Jonathan or Erica can. 

“Finally!” Eddie grins and points at Steve “Of course it’d be KISS that you’d recognize, Stevie. Okay, this one’s for you.”

This one Steve recognizes with the first note, and is frozen where he sits. ‘How’d he know this is my favorite?’ Steve looks at Robin with wide eyes, and she’s already looking at him, her mouth open in shock. ‘Did you tell him?’ he mouths at her. She shakes her head furiously and looks back at Eddie.

He looks back at Eddie, who’s looking down at his hands on the strings, head bobbing to the unheard beat, hair curtained around his face. A couple of the others had already guessed the song correctly, but Eddie keeps playing, the song is a little empty without the usual keyboard and drum, but it works. Damn does it work.

Steve’s on his feet and stepping onto the stage without even thinking about it. As soon as he is, Eddie’s head snaps up, confused, but his hands don’t falter. Just watches him as he picks up the mic right on time to sing “Welcome to your life, there’s no turning back..”

He sings, and looks at Eddie, who’s looking at him with the fondest smile he’s ever seen. Steve’s heart is hammering, burning hotter and hotter for Eddie with every beat.

He tears his eyes from the man next to him and looks out at his mish-mash group of friends singing along with him; Nancy and Jonathan singing along and swaying side to side with Chrissy and Robin (the latter of whom’s arms are tucked around the former), Mike had taken Steve’s spot next to Will when he’d gotten up (both of their faces red), leaving El next to Dustin (who’s now wearing Eddie’s vest), Erica on his other side, phone held up and a mischievous grin on her face, and Max and Lucas next to each other at the end, each leaning in to the other, but not quite touching. 

Steve grins around the lyrics he sings, and thinks that he needs to find Joyce to tell her “Nevermind, I am definitely happy.”

Chap 9 here!

@henderdads gave me most of party's karaoke songs, and @yournowheregirl suggested Barbie Girl for Steve and Robin, but I swapped it to Eddie and Chrissy instead! Thank you guys!!!

@sadcanadianwinter @hopefulslothcollecter @steveshairychest @sidebarre @resident-gay-bitch @kaspurrcat @melkene @livewondrousss @steddieasitgoes @mightbeasleep @princessstevemunson @totallybitchin @potentialheartofdarkness @spectrum-spectre