#its called 'swap who takes the fall for the thing neither of them did'

[isaacathom]

i think the more time that passes between now and my friends and i watching hb duty increases the likelihood that i do, in fact, write that au fic for the end of retribution

[katnissmellarkkk]

AN: I always see the take that Gale thought of Prim as his own family, his own sister, his own child. And I’ve just always felt like it was an exaggeration, not anything that was proven canonically. I appreciate headcanons but I feel like that one is just very widely accepted so I decided to isolate all the Prim/Gale interactions from the series to basically just put all the facts out there and let anyone decide for themselves if Gale really thought of Prim as his own flesh and blood, or if she was just the kid sister of his best friend/crush. I think it’s apparent that I’m obviously in the latter group. But I may be the only one who interprets it this way so lemme know. But don’t turn this into an argument.

Also @rosegardeninwinter encouraged this.

-

“Prim left us a cheese.” I pull it out.

His expression brightens at the treat. “Thank you, Prim. We’ll have a real feast.” Suddenly he falls into a Capitol accent as he mimics Effie Trinket, the maniacally upbeat woman who arrives once a year to read out the names at the reaping.

-

“Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it,” says Gale.

I don’t know how to respond. The idea is so preposterous.

“If we didn’t have so many kids,” he adds quickly.

They’re not our kids, of course. But they might as well be. Gale’s two little brothers and a sister. Prim. And you may as well throw in our mothers, too, because how would they live without us? Who would fill those mouths that are always asking for more? With both of us hunting daily, there are still nights when game has to be swapped for lard or shoelaces or wool, still nights when we go to bed with our stomachs growling.

“I never want to have kids,” I say.

“I might. If I didn’t live here,” says Gale.

“But you do,” I say, irritated.

“Forget it,” he snaps back.

The conversation feels all wrong. Leave? How could I leave Prim, who is the only person in the world I’m certain I love?

-

I can feel someone pulling her from my back. I turn and see Gale has lifted Prim off the ground and she’s thrashing in his arms. “Up you go, Catnip,” he says, in a voice he’s fighting to keep steady, and then he carries Prim off toward my mother.

-

Gale offered to carry [Lady]. I think he wanted to see the look on Prim’s face as much as I did. In a moment of complete giddiness, I bought a pink ribbon and tied it around her neck. Then we hurried back to my house.

-

“She’ll understand. I watched a lot of the Games with her and Prim. She won’t say no to you,” says Gale.

-

“Prim?” I gasp.

“She’s alive. So is your mother. I got them out in time,” he says.

-

He herded those he could in its direction, including my mother and Prim.

-

Then I hear it. The faint sound of footsteps on the stairs. “We’re coming!” I hear my sister call.

“Hold the door!” That was Gale.

“They’re coming!” I tell the guards, and they slide the doors open about a foot. But I don’t dare move — afraid they’ll lock us all out — until Prim appears, her cheeks flushed with running, hauling Buttercup. I pull her inside and Gale follows, twisting an armload of baggage.

-

Despite the disagreeable conditions, I’m glad to have time with my sister. My extreme preoccupation since I came here — no, since the first Games, really — has left little attention for her. I haven’t been watching over her the way I should, the way I used to. After all, it was Gale who checked our compartment, not me.

-

“Was it your bomb?”

“I don’t know. Neither does Beetee,” he says. “Does it matter? You’ll always be thinking about it.”

He waits for me to deny it; I want to deny it, but it’s true. Even now I can see the flash that ignites her, feel the heat of the flames. And I will never be able to separate that moment from Gale. My silence is my answer.

“That was the one thing I had going for me. Taking care of your family,” he says.

-

[the-haunted-office]

The Offices

The Haunted Office

The Haunted Office is what everyone calls the office where the bulk of my muses live. Appropriately named, it not only is currently home to multiple ghosts and several extraterrestrials, it is also sentient and goes by the name of Dorian. It furthermore used to be possessed by an extraterrestrial parasitic mist called the Dampening and has a shady habit of “kidnapping” people and beings from other dimensions. While it is no longer possessed, it does still have a tendency to attract paranormal and supernatural forces.

Once upon a time it was known as ABC Corporation, a business running under the guise of coordinating shipping logistics. What it was really doing was performing illicit psychological experiments on its employees. The business one day vanished to the outside world when Cyrus and Aurora concealed it, trapped the Dampening within it, and stuffed it into a black hole, thus preventing the mist from escaping and thus dooming the employees in the process.

The Dampening is dead now and the Office has been returned to the outside world. Everything outside is different than it was before, but at least the Haunted Office residents were able to take down the sky ads and help free most of the slasher zombies who were wandering around outside. The space mansions are still orbiting the Earth, but one day they hope to take those down as well.

In any case, folks often find themselves in the Haunted Office due to its tendency to "kidnap" them from their dimensions. It has an equal tendency of throwing its own residents into other dimensions. This all accounts for crossovers. Office residents do their best to help others feel at home as well as help others find their way back home, but beware - some of the spooks and kooks around the Office are kinda bored and like to scare visitors for fun.

Office Zero

Office Zero is the first office that the original Cyrus and Thursday came from. It suffered very much the same fate as the Haunted Office, only things came out much differently for the Narrators.

The most important, most major difference between Office Zero and the Haunted Office, is that Office Zero never connected with other offices. Neither the Narrators nor Stanley ever met any others outside of each other.

In this office’s timeline, Cyrus, Thursday, Stanley, and the office were all possessed by the Dampening mist. When the mist killed Stanley and consumed his soul, the Narrators were left with only each other to narrate stories for. They would take turns narrating for each other, although this caused even more tension because not only were they grieving for their Stanley, not only were they still at odds with each other, but also because of their wildly different narrating styles. Cyrus wanted to keep retelling Stanley’s story; Thursday wanted to tell new ones.

Eventually the mist burned through all the souls it had consumed, forcing it to kill the Narrators to feed on them. However, Cyrus was revived and saved by his sister Aurora, while Thursday was left to die. Immediately upon her death, her soul was consumed by the mist and hastily broken down, whereupon the mist starved to death and Thursday became the Reaper known today as Doomsday.

The whereabouts of Office Zero’s Cyrus and Aurora are currently unknown.

That Office

That Office is the office Thisday hails from. The Office from this timeline, while still owned by ABC Corporation, did not fall victim to the Dampening mist.

In That Office, everybody's roles are swapped.

Instead of Stanley being the Protagonist, he took 432′s place, although his number is still 427. He was mind controlled to sharpen pencils but was given no pencil sharpeners to complete his task, rather than being given no pencils like in other timelines.

Thisday - known as Thursday, employee 217, in That Office - is the Protagonist.

The Narrators’ roles are filled by (That) Aurora and (That) Mariella.

And (That) Cyrus is the Curator.

Their Office was isolated from outsiders, and only made contact with another Office for the first time when Thisday was "taken" from his Office by the Haunted Office. Now the two Offices have formed a friendship and work closely together.

The Ruined Office

...is actually one of many just like it.

More to be announced as the plot involving it unfolds!

Office.

One of the very first iterations of the Offices, it is identical to the Haunted Office in nearly every way, except that it has not connected with any of the other Offices. It is entirely isolated. It was also fitted with a beacon, which attracted an outsider into the Office when Stanley died. This person’s original name is a mystery, but the Narrators first called them Character before renaming them Rodney. They then became their new Protagonist and was given a new office - 427b. Rodney is owned by @fullstop-roleplays.

The Narrators are very different from the Cyrus and Thursday from the Haunted Office. They are how they would have been had they never met others from other Offices. They are manipulative and focused almost entirely on narrating. The Story is the most important thing to them. However they do adore Rodney. They treat him like a most precious creature.

Office UD8

This is the office Stanley Johnson and Arthur Wright are from.

UD8 was created by Arthur specifically for Stanley in order to keep him close and to keep him happy. After accidentally causing his death, Arthur knew that Stanley could not return to his normal life, so after reviving him he created the Office for him along with the Story and an entire "life" for him.

And Stanley... was happy. Wasn't he?

[parfumieren]

Lonestar Memories (Tauer Perfumes)

Recently (and for the fourth or fifth time, I admit) I watched Catherine Breillat's breathtaking film Une Vieille Maîtresse (An Aging Mistress, misleadingly translated as The Last Mistress for American audiences who find finality more palatable than age). Based on Barbey d'Aurevilly's scandalous 1851 romance, Une Vieille Maîtresse concerns a ten-year liaison between a young Parisian rake and a Spanish divorcee some years his senior. If you suspect that this is Chéri all over again, think twice. The love (if you can call it that) between Ryno de Marigny and La Vellini is, as she herself puts it, une liaison singulaire.

Described by one lover as "a capricious flamenca who can outstare the sun", Vellini is neither young, beautiful, nor especially personable-- but she certainly is singular. When Ryno is first introduced to her at a masquerade party, she is dressed in a frivolous costume at odds with her sober expression. When asked, "Are you dressed as a she-devil?" the artless Vellini doesn't miss a beat. "No," she replies. "THE Devil."

The cinematic convention of the meet cute -- in which future lovers start out on the wrong foot with one another but slowly fall into step -- has no place in Une Vieille Maîtresse. Ryno dismisses Vellini as an "ugly mutt", then falls hopelessly in love with her. She instigates a duel between her husband and Ryno, then realizes that her spouse is superfluous, since she and Ryno can easily carry out their feud without a middleman. For ten years, the pair remain steadfastly by each other's sides and at each other's throats. Not even Ryno's betrothal to a fresh young heiress can put them asunder. Betrayal just adds an extra soupçon of pathos to their frequent, erotic "final" goodbyes. Theirs is an eternal combat without a clear winner, and no truce in sight.

Vellini may pretend to roll with the changes, but her easy arrogance conceals a deep, melancholy, and self-sacrificial fatalism. True, she despises Ryno before, during, and after their affair (with good reason, as he appears to confuse making love with making her miserable). But as he is her fate, she refuses to abandon him. He can come and go as he pleases; she'll always be his-- for worse if not for better.

The bond between Ryno and La Vellini is a strange one, based more on mutual anguish than delight. Yet every so often, Ryno manages to bring a smile to the edges of Vellini's mouth, transforming her eyes into supernovas of celestial light and her storm clouds into very heaven. In these moments, there is no doubt in my mind which perfume La Vellini personifies.

How do I know? Perhaps it's that succession of gigantic rose peonies with which Vellini adorns her jet-black hair-- neon pinks and reds radiating the intensity of a desert sunset. Or the combination of vulnerability and bravado that broadcasts itself through the eccentricity of her dress (Vellini switches from jaunty men's breeches to Levantine harem-wear to black lace mantillas faster than her mood can swing, which is pretty bloody fast). She smokes cigars, plays cards, and rides horses like a man… but she breaks, as the song goes, just like a little girl.

That's why I believe that Andy Tauer's Lonestar Memories is right on Vellini's wavelength. Take L'Air du Désert Marocain and whittle it down to its base of labdanum, jasmine, cedar, and vetiver. (Works best if you're chewing on a stalk of sweetgrass.) Swap out its coriander and cumin for sagebrush and carrotseed; then substitute geranium and birch tar for its petitgrain and ambergris. Bookend it on one side with smoky phenols, and on the other with a dusky carnation of deepest cerise. Now beam the whole thing right smack into the middle of the pampas, where it will lounge by the campfire with a flower between its teeth beneath the starry night sky. Cue Pete Seeger yodeling "Way Out There"-- and you realize that never did a human voice sound so plaintive, so lonesome, echoing in all that endless space.

Petulant, tender, melancholy, fearless, the Señora and this scent both get me right in the throat. And they can make bold with my heart all they want to: I'll stay faithful to the bitter end.

Scent Elements: Geranium, carrotseed, clary sage, birch tar, labdanum, jasmine, cedarwood, myrrh, tonka bean, vetiver, sandalwood

[a-monsters-love]

Hit with a quirk that turns adults to children

Shoto Todoroki x Reader

Genre: massive fluff. angst if ya’ squint

Warnings: implications of abuse, little OOC Shoto but its cannon that he smiled more when he was a kid (the gif is a perfect example) 

A/N: FIC SWAP WITH @hxwks-gf​ ILY2 SWEETS - You’ll find her fic [here] 

(Y/N) = Your name

(E/C) = Eye color

(H/C) = Hair color

[Master List]

—————

“How could this happen?” Endeavor hissed at Aizawa.

Aizawa, who looks like he’s about to explode on the man in front of him, lets out a deep sigh. “As I said before, Shoto got hit with a civilians quirk. It should wear off in the next couple days.” Endeavor scowls at you as you cross your arms and deadpan at him, your frame standing protectively in front of a now child Shoto. Shoto’s been holding on to you desperately for the past few hours since the incident, only letting go once to get changed into the smallest gym uniform the school could provide.

You offered to hold him but he chose to take refuge in the back of your legs rather than face the situation. The two of you had been working together on a project for Aizawa when you ran into villains on the street, at some point Shoto had a run in with a civilian who accidentally turned him into a child with their quirk. The face of despair and unbridled childlike tears that welled up in his eyes will haunt you.

“I don’t have time for this.” Endeavor groans, he pulls out his phone and calls Fuyumi. She’s a school teacher she should be able to handle this, right? After about 20 minutes of light bickering on the phone, he comes back. Neither of his siblings can help and his mother is ‘sick’.

You look back at Shoto’s shaking frame and take a deep breath, “I’ll take him.” The two heroes look at you with raised eyebrows. “As Aizawa already knows, I have the next few days off for personal reasons. Which means I have plenty of time on my hands to take care of a kid.” You squeak through the tension in the air.

Aizawa sighs, “Are you going to be able to handle it though? With everything going on?”

You laugh softly and rub little Shoto’s head, “I’m great with kids, and I could use the company.” You smile sadly at your teacher, who only nods in response.

Endeavor huffs and kneels down to Shoto, who hides himself further in your knees. “Contact me if anything happens.” He says looking at you.

“Of course, sir.” You had your suspicions before about Shoto’s childhood, this only brought the situation to light. Never have you ever seen the calm and collected Shoto petrified enough to have him in tears. “I will be running by your family home to pick him up a few different pairs of clothing. We don’t know how long this will last.” You tell him, you don’t bother asking. You don’t care for his opinion, he just needs to leave.

He nods in agreement and provides you the address and a vague idea on where to look. After he does, you scoop up your quivering classmate and speed walk out the door. He freezes at first but instinctually wraps his arms around you and buries his embarrassed face in your neck.

He hasn’t said a word since the incident and you don’t know how much of the man you know is still in there. As much as the idea of your crush burying his face into your neck makes you blush, protecting him is your first priority.

You quickly make your way to the Todoroki residence, well, as quick as you could. Shoto quietly asked to be put down about half way there, you walked as quickly as his little legs could comfortably take him.

When you arrived you looked at the note Endeavor gave you once more, “Alright, so, your father said there’s should be a box in the attic with your old clothing.” You squatted down and smiled at him, a small embarrassed expression was still present on his face. “Do you want to look with me, Shoto?”

He glances at you with a blush, the two of you weren’t on a first name basis outside of fact that his Hero name is his first name. Honestly you couldn’t find it in your bones to call a little kid by his last name, it felt too weird. He nods shyly, “Yes…(Y-(Y/N)…” His voice was almost a whisper.

You giggled a bit and finger combed out a few ruffles in his hair, “Wonderful, because I have no idea where your attic is.” The comment earns you a stifled laugh from the boy and he pulls you along by the finger.

After pulling down the latter to the attic you send Shoto up first, following close behind. You both cough at the dust but quickly find the boxes, after he pulls out a few outfits you inspect them for signs of deterioration. When you find no problems you both leave the attic and head down to wash the old clothing.

Shoto freezes as he passes through a hallway, the color has run from his face. “(Y-(Y/N)..” His voice shook as he stared at a door, you walk up to him slowly and offer your arms for him.

He awkwardly steps into your embrace, “Lets wash these at my house.” You say quietly, rubbing his back.

When you get home you walk in and show him where to put his shoes, “I’m home.” You say loudly to the nearly empty home. A meow is heard from upstairs and you wait as your old cat walks down the stairs to greet you. “Hello Cali, I’m home. I brought a friend.” You pet the cat who wasted no time rubbing up on Shoto. “This is Shoto, he’s going to be with us for a few days.” You explain to the cat, who meows lazily in return.

You chuckle as Shoto shyly pets the cat, “I’ve never had any pets before...” He says quietly.

You hum a bit and head to your wash room, “Well, you’ll have plenty of time to experience having one while you’re with me.” You smile at him, he slowly follows you poking his head around doors and entryways.

“Where’s your family?” He asks, noticing the lack of life in your house.

You croon at the question, “It’s just me and Cali. It’s been like that for awhile.” That was all you could manage on the situation as you made sure his clothing was set in the washer.

Regret is visible on his young face and he brought his hands to his mouth, “O-oh..I’m sorry..” He murmured towards the floor.

A chuckle escapes you, how can he be so cute? He looks up in confusion at you, “You did nothing wrong Shoto, you don’t have to apologize. Why don’t you go explore while I clean up a bit?” He nods at you and runs off, you walk up stairs and open up your little brothers old room. You move to open up the window and start dusting off the contents of the room when you hear heavy little feet making their way up the stairs. “Find anything interesting?” You ask.

Turning you see him carrying Cali, his arms scooped under the cats front legs in a manner that makes the beast look long. “You have a piano.” He says, you can hear stifled interest in his voice. Your heart breaks at the fact that a 5 year old is stifling their emotions.

“I do indeed!” You chirp while putting new sheets on the bed. “Do you like pianos?”

You can almost see the gears moving in his head. “They sound pretty.” He finally says, releasing the cat.

You chuckle as you finish cleaning up. “They do, my mom taught me to play when I was your age. She told me that music is the window to ones soul.”

It’ll be nice having him around, you think seeing him look at you in awe. “You can play it?” He asks, excitement can be heard in his voice for the first time.

“I can, I just had it tuned too.” You smile widely at him, glad his wall is coming down. “But first, we must bathe!” You scoop him up and tickle his stomach, “I think we’re both pretty stinky.”

He giggles from being tickled and then blushes at the idea of bathing with you. “Together?” He mumbles, you blush a bit at the comment.

“I-If you would prefer me being there, I su-suppose we could figure something out.” You stammer.

He doesn’t say anything as you walk to the bathroom and start filling up the bath when he pulls on your shirt, you look back at him and squat down. You tilt your head to the side, waiting for him to choose his words. “Stay?” He asks.

You smile, “Of course. Let me go grab a few things and we’ll get in.” You rush to your room and change into a bathing suit, grabbing your brothers old swim suit from his dresser. You hear a loud splash as you walk back, you see Shoto wet in his clothing from the trying to turn off the water. “Someone’s excited.” You tease.

He looks at you with a distressed pouting face, “N-No I-.” He stutters as you move to turn off the water. “I was trying to do that..”

You laugh and offer him the shorts, as he changes you move to grab a few bath soaps and bubble bath. “I appreciate all your help, Shoto.” You say walking back, helping him into the tub. Both of you let out a small sigh as you sink into the hot water, causing small chuckles between you.

You scrub off some of the slime from the day and start pouring bubble soap into the bath. “What’s that stuff?” He asks.

“Oh-Ho. Bubbles of course.” You wink at him and quickly mix the soap to create bubbles. He helps you make bubbles, he giggles a bit at the action and then blushes.

Shoto doesn’t understand what’s come over him, his mind is still all there but he has so much less control over his emotions, let alone his behavior. He hasn’t meant to say half the stuff he has since the accident. He watches you happily go along with his childish antics as if the whole situation were normal. You smile at him when you catch him staring and scoop bubbles onto his head. “H-Hey!” He whines, pushing bubbles at you.

You laugh as he falls into you, the tub is smaller than you’d like but you’re content with space you have. “Careful there.” You scoop him up, you find his eyes wandering along the deep scars all over your body. You reached for the sponge, “Let’s get you cleaned up.” You say softly.

Without realizing it Shoto found himself sitting on your thighs, tracing the scars on your shoulder with his fingers. He jumped back when he felt the soapy sponge touch his arm. “I can do it!” He said louder than he meant.

You hand him the sponge and grab another to scrub yourself. You get out of the tub to rinse off and wash your hair before he’s done. “Come here when you’re done, I want to wash your hair.” You say, he just nods with a bright blush.

He gets out by the time you start putting conditioner in your hair. “I can wash my own hair..” He mumbles, awkwardly sitting in front of you.

“I know you can, but I want to.” You say quietly, this whole situation is like a fever dream for you. Getting to wash your crushes hair and satiating the hole that was left without your family? Win-win (Y/N). “I like doing these things.” You say as you put shampoo in his hair.

“Why?” He asks plainly.

You hum as you massage his scalp, a small sigh leaves him from the feeling. “I like spoiling people I care about.” You blush a bit at the statement, blaming the steam for the heat in your face.

“Y-you care about me?” The question broke your heart.

“Of course I do, I wouldn’t have brought you to my family home or shared a bath with you if I didn’t.” A smile can be heard in your words, he doesn’t say anything.

He sat with his thoughts as you rinsed his hair of shampoo and started applying conditioner. The ‘shared a bath’ comment running through his mind, partially clarifying the fluttering in his chest when he’s around you. Maybe I can ask these questions since she thinks I’m a kid mentally.  he thinks, “Hey, (Y/N)?” You hum in response. “What does it mean when your belly flops around?”

“Hmm, in the literal sense or do you mean when you feel like you have butterflies in your stomach?” You ask, focusing more on detangling his unfairly soft hair.

“Like butterflies.” He murmurs.

“Well, it can indicate excitement, anticipation, nervousness but often times it‘s a sign of love-“ Your breath hitches in your throat are the last word, a deep blush taking over your face. You make a feeble attempt to finish your work.

You were so focused on trying to hide you embarrassment you didn’t see Shoto’s reddening face. He stood up quickly and grabbed the shower head from the floor. “I’ll r-rinse your hair.” He says, giving you no time to argue as he walked around you and started the rinsing the conditioner out of your hair.

Both of you felt like your heads were going to pop, while the feeling of his little hands in your hair provoked giggles from you. You reached back and helped him, he struggled getting out knots from your hair and elected to leave them for you to sort out. His small frame doing him no justice as his hands traced the scars on your back but froze. “It’s okay.” You said softly, letting his childishly addled mind explore. You imagined if you had children they’d would do the same thing. “Let me rinse your hair when you’re done studying.” You tease. The comment pulled him from his wonder and he sat in front of you.

After the bath you both changed into pajamas. He lets you blow dry and brush his hair and followed you around like a ducking into the kitchen. “Can I help?” He asks on his toes at the counter, watching you pull out food for prep.

“Of course, pull up a chair.” You respond pointing at the kitchen table and he does just that. He pulls up a chair and you have him washing vegetables while you prepare a pan to cook in and start the rice cooker. “How does Oyakodon sound?” You ask looking through your fridge.

“I don’t mind as long as you make it.” His tone was soft, he didn’t dare to look at you in his own embarrassment. I didn’t mean to say that, he thinks.

You smile widely and pat his head gently, “You are too sweet, ya’ know that?” You giggle softly. “I’ll get you to decide on what you want tomorrow.”

He smiles lightly as you take the vegetables from him. He pushes the chair closer to the stove to watch you cook and watches how delicately but precise each movement you make is. He knows a little about cooking but he can’t understand how you quickly made a dish that seems so complicated.

He drags the chair back to the table when you start serving the dinner, he sits down excitedly as you bring out his plate. A happy noise escapes him as he starts to eat. You smile softly at his childish behaviors, “You’ll be a good mom.” He says with after chewing.

You chuckle and pull rice off his cheek, eating it yourself. “Maybe, I’ll need to find a husband first, and I’m pretty sure boys are terrified of me.” You recall interactions with other students after the sports festival, the girls were all excited but the boys seemed to shy away.

“You’re not scary!” He says almost dropping his spoon, you laugh and roll your eyes. “You’re not! You’re so nice and helpful and smart and-and pretty!” He felt like the room was spinning as he spat out how he felt, why did I say that?! He scolded himself internally, looking down. “If I could eat your food all the time I’d be your husband.” His words were so quiet you almost didn’t hear him, but you did.

You felt like your heart could jump out of your chest, my crush just said he’d be my husband! HOW DO I RESPOND TO THAT?? You tried to keep your face passive, coughing slightly to hide the quandary you’re in. “Maybe when you’re older.” An awkward giggle escapes you, “You’d have to be my boyfriend first though.”

His face was red but he nodded and scooped the last of his food into his mouth. “Okay.” He said with food in his mouth, “I’ll be (Y/N)’s boyfriend.” He continued, more to himself than you, nodding as if he just came to an agreement. You nearly choke on your drink before you both chuckle awkwardly, “Are you gonna play a song on the piano?” He asks as you take the dishes and wash them, letting him help store the left overs.

“I can, what kind of song?” You hum.

Shoto pauses and thinks about it, he doesn’t say anything until you walk up to the standing piano. “Something for me?” His voice was almost a squeak.

You turn and look at him, he’s looking down and fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Maybe a song that reminds me of him? That’s not too tough, you hum and pat the space next to you on the piano bench. “I think I’ve got one.” You scoop him into your lap, giggling as he makes a feeble attempt to escape. “I don’t want to elbow you on accident.” When he stops wiggling around and you start playing the song, singing out the lyrics quietly as he watched your finger fly delicately across the keys. The harsher notes surprise him, but he glances at you with a slack jaw. Your eyes half lidded followed your hands across the keys, a small smile curled at your lips.

“You can do everything.” He gasps, earning himself a bashful blushing smile from you.

“Why don’t we watch a movie?” He nods happily at your suggestion.

He ended up sitting curled into you, under a blanket, you made herbal tea and put on some movie he chose. While finishing his drink it didn’t take long to get tired, he rubbed his eyes incessantly. “I’ll lay down after the movie.” He yawned a soft plea, you can’t imagine how tired his young body must be. Even as an adult, the day you had was a bit much.

He fell asleep not long after, you scooped him up and laid him down in your brothers old room. You left his door open after tucking him in and walked into your own room. You plopped on top of the blankets and dozed off quickly.

You woke up a few hours later to the soft sounds of crying, stifled and buried noises. You quickly got out of bed and walked over to the source, “Shoto? What’s wrong?” You asked softly.

He made an awkward grunt while wiping his face in the pillow, “Nothing, bad dream. I-I’m okay.” He pleas, but his childish form betrays him. “I’m sorry for waking you..”

“Well, you don’t look ‘okay’ to me.” You tease a bit, “Come here.” He instinctually follows you back to your room, you sit him on your much softer bed and wipe his face. “It’s okay to not be okay, Shoto.” You pat his scarred cheek, thumbing at stray tears before crawling into bed behind him. “Come lay down, take advantage of being little.” You say, you’re clearly still half asleep as you lift you arm for him to choose to lay with you or not.

It doesn’t take long for him to crawl into your bed, curling his sleepy small frame into your arms. The smell of you consumes his mind, calming him down. You pet his hair and rub shapes into his back until you both fall asleep.

——

“AH.” You woke to the sound of a surprised little Shoto, I thought that was a dream. He thought when he woke up wrapped in your arms and nuzzles into your chest.

You rubbed and picked at your eyes as he scooted away from you, glancing over at him. Oh yeah, “You sleep okay?” You’re far too tired to be embarrassed.

He watches you stretch out, your hair and clothing are disheveled. You’re glancing at him with half lidded bedroom eyes, your morning voice was softer and raspier than usual. A blush consumes him, I wish I was grown right now. He thinks, Wait…What? “Ah, y-yeah actually.” He rubbed his own eyes, “I slept good.” Better than he had in a long time.

You smile and sit up, quickly getting out of bed. “Good, why don’t you go get dressed and we’ll start breakfast.” You wink and smile at him as you head to the bathroom. He just stares at the door for a moment before rushing to the other room.

Shoto follows you down the stairs after you’re both dressed, noting you’re semi-casual clothing. “I have one thing I have to do today.” You tell him, “After that we’ll be free to do whatever you want.” You start reheating rice and cooking meat for breakfast, along with prepping food for lunch.

“You’re cooking a lot of food.” He comments from over the bar.

A soft smile graces your face, “We’re going to see my family today.” He notes the mild sadness in your face but doesn’t push.

“What are they like?” He asks walking around the counter to enter the kitchen.

“Oh they’re wonderful, my mom is very goofy. She loves music and weird philosophy that I still don’t understand.” You laugh talking about her, “My dad was a loud man, he’s soft and loved when he could take care of me and my brother. My brother on the other hand is a lot like the other boys in our class. A bit of a screw ball but he always means well.” Shoto quietly watches you talk passionate about your family, he smiles softly at the way you smile wide enough for dimples to show.

You set a plate down for him, you eat in the kitchen while you finish packing lunch. “You think they’ll like me?” He asks between bites.

You laugh, “They would have loved you.” Thoughts flash in Shoto’s head, she’s introducing me to her parents? He’s enamored with the idea but his current situation makes it very strange.

He loses himself in thought, not noticing you packing incense into your picnic basket. You feed Cali and start cleaning up, check the weather, and take your time cleaning up. You make a glass of fruit tea for Shoto, who’s watching cartoons. You watch him blow on it and take a careful sip when his face lights up, “This is yummy.” He smiles shyly.

“I’m glad, it was my favorite when I was your age.” You chuckle.

“What’s your favorite now?”

You hum at the question, “I haven’t met a tea I didn’t like. I’m not sure.” You stared blankly at the TV in consideration, it’s been a long time since you’ve been unsure of something so simple.

A couple hours pass before you leave for your picnic. Shoto wishes he could help you carry the basket and blanket, he fails to notice where you’re both headed until you stop. You pull out a key card and open the gate to a cemetery for Heroes, he looks up at you in concern but you smile softly back at him and pat his hair. When you finally stop you set up a blanket in front of a decorated family head stone, he just stares at you in surprise. He goes to say something when someone else calls your name. “Miss (Y/N)!” You look over and see an older man. “Is it the anniversary already?”

You wave as he walks up, “Takahashi! Good to see you old timer. It is, I can’t believe you still work here.”

He laughs loudly, “Your parents saved my life so of course I do! Who’s the tyke?” He asks peering around you.

Shoto bows politely, “I’m Shoto! Who are you?”

You both chuckle, “Polite young thing,” He says to you. “I’m Takahashi Jin, grounds keeper of this ‘er cemetery.” He smiles to Shoto, “You two enjoy your lunch, don’t get into trouble like last time missy!” He teases and turns to leave.

“Me? Trouble? Never. Not even once.” You snort, winking at Shoto who chuckles. You both chuckle further when you hear the old man huff.

Shoto lights the incense and both give your prayers before you open up lunch. Neither of you pay any mind to the strange looks you get as time goes on. Shoto doesn’t understand your happiness as you sit in a cemetery eating lunch with a classmate, you’re alone in this world. His heart aches but he’s glad you seem okay. The old man from earlier stop by again and hands you a few flyers, “You think we should go?” You ask Takahashi with knitted brows. He nods, sending an empathetic smile. You shrug and hand the papers to Shoto.

“A festival?” He looks at you wide eyed, “Can we go?”

“If you want to, then absolutely.”

“I’ve never been to one,” He whispers to himself behind the paper.

——

When you return to the house you drop the basket off on the counter and run upstairs. Shoto follows behind but waits as you head into a room he hasn’t seen yet, “Shoto, come here.” You call, he walks in hesitantly and looks around. “Face the door for a moment.” He does, only glancing over as he realizes your measuring him. “Yeah, this should fit.” Your voice was excited.

He turns to see you have a set of matching yukata’s, a larger white one with red geometric flowers on it, the smaller one was white with fine red and black lines running across it. “We’ll match?” He asks, these types of things were never something his father allowed.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” You poke at him, “Let’s get changed. It’s a bit of a ways away.”

You got him changed first, making sure the Geta sandals fit him. Once he’s sorted you make your way to your room, of course putting on a yukata alone isn’t easy, you groaned internally. It took you longer than you would’ve like to get ready, the outfit then the hair, natural makeup, the whole nine. You grabbed a small shoulder bag and your shoes as you finished.

You stared at the hair stick before grabbing it and walking down the stairs. “Shoto, can you help me with something?” You heard him run over before you saw him, he blushed and gasped at you.

“You look so pretty.” He whispered, cupping his mouth in embarrassment.

You hand him the hair pin and kneel down, “Can you put this in for me?” He looks at the hair stick and then at your hair, his expression softens as you allow him to put it where he likes. “My hero, thank you.” He blushes at the comment but doesn’t say anything. You offer him your hand to hold, he grabs your pinky and ring finger and the two of you set off.

—

“Wow.” He gasps, the streets are lines with lanterns as stalls, you hold his hand and let him pull you to everything that grabs his attention. You buy snacks as you go, you show him and a few other kids your goldfish catching skills and ended up giving all the fish away. You wouldn’t be able to take care of them anyway, the two of you stop by a mask stall. He stares at them in curiosity, the person running the stall explains them and lets him try on a few.

You look at your phone for the time and lift him up, “Look up.” You tell him, as he does fireworks go off. It’s the first time you’ve seen pure childish glee on his face since the incident, if ever. Everyone stares at the fireworks calmly as they go.

When they finish you walk over to a food stand, “Soba!” He cheers, you laugh and order him a bowl. You quickly find a bench to sit at and eat, “Did you know I like soba a lot?” He asked innocently.

“Yes I did, I thought you’d like to have some at your first street festival.”

He watches you eat Takoyaki with a content smile, he didn’t realize you heard that comment. “How long is this going on for?”

You hummed as you finished chewing, “3 more days, I think.” You wipe your mouth, “Did you want to come back?”

He chuckles softly, “Maybe when I’m older.” You smile at him, not quite sure what’s on his mind. “Is this a date?” His question caused you to almost choke on your food.

You looked away as you regained your composure, “I s-suppose i-it is.” You stammer out, your cheeks dust with blush and you’re grateful for the dim lighting. When you glance back at him you see a soft smile on his face, what on earth is going through his mind?

After another hour of playing around you both head back to your home, “Thank you.” He says, squeezing your fingers.

Squeezing his little hand back you hum, “What for?”

“Everything.” His voice was small but content.

You pat his hair with your free hand, “It was my pleasure, Shoto.” You watch the stars as you walk, “Thank you for meeting my family, it’s lonely to go by myself.” You sigh softly.

He glances up at you, “You’re welcome. I don’t want you to be lonely.” You look down at him, a sad smile graces your face. “I’m here for you since you’re gonna be my wife.” His hand quickly covers his mouth at the comment but you can see the smile he’s hiding.

The single comment broke the sadness on your face, causing you to laugh. “That’s a good reason.” You snicker as you make it back to your house.

“We’re home.” You say to the mostly empty house. “Let’s get changed and off to bed.” He nods and follows you up the stairs.

He falls asleep quickly as you tuck him into bed, when you’re sure he’s asleep you press a soft kiss to his forehead and head to bed yourself.

Shoto wasn’t completely asleep when you left a soft kiss on his skin. A smile grew on his face as he got comfortable, you curled into bed quickly dozing off yourself.

You were stirred in the middle of the night by heavy weight of a body curling into your chest and neck. You didn’t bother opening your eyes as you sleepily remembered your guest, you lazily wrapped your arms around him and found his head of hair with you hand to pet as you drifted. “Sleep well, Shoto.” You mumbled as you started to doze back off.

Shoto, now fully grown, had made quick and delicate work of wrapping himself into you. A soft happy noise escaped you as you got comfortable, “I think I love you, (Y/N).” He said softly into your chest, assuming you were asleep.

You hum sleepily and squeeze him a bit, “I think I love you too Sho…” Your voice trailed off indicating your sleep, Shoto squeezes you back as a small happy smile crept up his face.

As much as being turned into a child could have been an absolute nightmare of a situation, he was happy to have had this time with you. He never understood why he was so drawn to you but after all this he seemed to understand more. He never thought being a kid again would have its advantages. He never thought you’d let him so deep into your personal life, between meeting your family, cooking for him and taking him to his first festival. All he wanted to do was stay in your life like this, now he was certain he actually could.

[sunrisefairy]

Secret moments

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader Summary: Sirius and reader are dating in secret and reader has had enough.  Warning: just a big of angst, mentions of sex (blink and you’ll miss it), swearing, mention of alcohol.

A/N: for @theweasleyslut writing challenge. Based off the prompts “There’s people here” “I know”

taglist: if your name is crossed out i couldn’t tag you @theweasleyslut @anxiousblanketqueen @accioweaslcy @widowdays @inglourious-imagines @garbdump @star-sunshine-sage @weelittleweasley @a-dusty-emerald @starlightkell @omghufflepuff @weasleyprincess @j-amespotter @gryffindorgirl @siriusbarnesslut @joytyce397 @layaaaa @thegirlinthelibrary​ @ch0colatefr0gs​ @weasleyyy​ @amourtentiaa​ @kaslupin

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A volcano. You can feel it; in the pit of your stomach, angrily bubbling and ready to erupt, to destroy whatever is in its path and right now that’s yours and Sirius’ relationship. If that’s what you can even call it. You and Sirius had been friends ever since first year when you charmed his quill to squirt ink on his robes whenever he picked it up. Young Sirius was equal parts embarrassed and stunned when he locked eyes with the pretty young witch sat at the front of the classroom who shot a smirk and a cheeky wink his way. To this day Sirius doesn’t think he’s blushed as hard as he did in that moment. Almost instantly you seamlessly slipped you way into a tight knitted friendship with Sirius and the rest of the marauders, the 5 of you hardly to be found separately. You seemed to gravitate towards the raven-haired boy the most though, Sirius rapidly became your best friend and the two of you were joined at the hip.

About 4 months ago, you and Sirius crossed the line from best friends to something more when you shared a heated kiss after a late-night study session. The two of you promised it was a one-time thing… it wasn’t. Months of sneaking around, stolen kisses behind closed doors, quick fucks between classes and private dates when the rest of the marauders had detentions. Your secret relationship with Sirius started off perfectly, neither of you wanted the rest of the world to know, you were content with this just being something you and Sirius shared in private but that was 4 months ago. And right now you were over it, over having to watch girls and boys flirt with Sirius right in front of you, over making up excuses as to why you don’t want to swap saliva with the tall Ravenclaw James tried to set you up with, over being Sirius private girlfriend.

Which led to this moment right now, in your dorm room, fighting. Your blood was boiling and pumping rapidly inside your veins after having to witness Sirius decline another date from a pretty Hufflepuff. The air felt thick and heavy as your voices raised higher and got louder, you could only hope your conversation couldn’t be heard from the common room below.

“Are you ashamed of me? Is that why you don’t want to tell anyone about us?” the words jab at Sirius’ heart strings almost hard enough to make him stand down and wrap his arms around your smaller frame and whisper how much he cares for you. But his emotions have the better of him and Sirius Black isn’t one to back down.

He scoffs, masking the sharp pain stabbing his chest whenever he sees you upset and the knife in his heart twists knowing he’s the one causing your pain, “of course not! Sorry for not wanting to parade my girlfriend around like a piece of meat.” His voice is thick with sarcasm.

“Oh yes I forgot,” you glare harshly at the boy in front of you, “clearly my memory has failed me because you definitely did not like parading Julianne Sommers around when you were dating her in 4th year and definitely did not suck her face off and grope the poor thing every chance you got. And don’t even get my started on Jonathon Michaels in 5th year, how that boy didn’t pass out from lack of oxygen is beyond me because you liked to make it very clear the two of you were dating. Don’t give me that bullshit excuse Sirius because I know it’s not true. You had no problem letting the world know you were dating them, so what’s so different about me?” Your chest feels heavy and you’re tired; tired of this, tired of playing pretend.

Sirius knows very well the true reason why he wants to keep your relationship a secret and it isn’t because he’s ashamed of you or scared of the friendly teasing James, Remus and Peter will be sure to send your way. It kills him to see other blokes talk about how fit you are and whenever he sees you, he just wants to walk right up and cup your cheeks and kiss you so deeply everyone knows you’re taken. But the truth is, he’s frightened. He’s frightened because he loves you so fucking much and he’s never loved anyone like this. He never thought of himself as a coward. Sirius gladly punched Samuel Stevens (who is twice Sirius’ size) in the nose after he pinched your arse in 5th year, he’s never once backed down from a fight when someone is teasing Remus and never fails to stand up for Peter and will always stand by James’ side. But ‘brave’ Sirius Black is scared of loving you, in particular Sirius is scared of everyone knowing he loves you. Sirius Black is a coward because he’s terrified that if people and merlin forbid you, know about his love then that will destroy the bubble the two of you have created. And if staying in this private bubble and keeping your relationship a secret is how he can keep everything together then he’ll gladly do it. Because he can’t lose you, he can’t risk you leaving him, the thought of everyone knowing petrifies him. He’s worried that it will taint your relationship.

Sirius chokes on his words, because I love you, he wants to say but he struggles to get them out, in fear of ruining what you have but it seems he’s doing that anyway when you leave the room and slam the door on your way out.

….

“Oh my ghosts! You look stunning babes,” Marlene wolf whistles and grips your shoulders to spin you around wanting to see your whole outfit. “You trying to impress anyone tonight hun?”

You have to crane your neck to hear her over the music pumping around the common room. “Nope, no one to impress.” You mutter sadly. It’s been over a week since your fight with Sirius. Neither of you have made the effort to apologise, although Sirius might have tried once or twice but you refused to be alone with the boy. You were angry and pissed and needed Sirius to realise that if he wanted you then it was all or nothing. You were tired of hiding.

“Well, who needs stupid boys anyway when we have each other!” Marlene declares dragging you to the drinks table to pour you some of the questionable looking punch.

Most of the night is spent dancing on the makeshift dance floor with Marlene, Mary and Lily; hips swinging and hair flowing, seemingly not a care in the world. It was just the distraction you were after, although you knew eventually you were going to see Sirius, given it was a party in the Gryffindor common room you couldn’t expect Sirius not to make an appearance.

“Nice to see the boys finally showed up,” Mary comments nodding her head in the direction of the stairs which lead up to the boy’s dorm. The 4 marauders come clambering down the stairs clearly ready to have some fun. Your breath hitches in your throat when you see Sirius, clad in a dark button up which he might as well not even bother wearing with how many buttons he has undone, half his muscly, toned chest on display. His dark locks fall lusciously against his shoulders and if you look closely you can spot some black eyeliner that makes his piercing grey eyes pop even more, he looks utterly gorgeous and your heart plummets into your stomach at the realisation of spending the reminder of the night watching him flirt with people that aren’t you.

You don’t even notice Sirius push his way through the crowd towards you until he’s towering over you. He’s standing so close that you can smell his aftershave, it’s both intoxicating and comforting at the same time. After a beat of the two of you staring at each other with no words you realise how close you are, way too close to convince everyone that you’re just friends. However, after the fight you aren’t 100% sure if you and Sirius are even still dating. Just as you’re about to take a step back from Sirius, he brings his hands to cup your face forcing you to look at him. Your eyes widen as you stare up at Sirius and notice the familiar glint in his eyes, you know that look and any hints of uncertainty were squashed when you catch the way his eyes flicker down to your lips. It feels as it time slows to a complete stop when Sirius leans down clearly trying to meet your soft lips.

Your hands fly up and press firmly against his hard chest, halting his movements. You frantically look around the room and notice multiple pairs of eyes watching you. “What are you doing? There’s people here y’know?” You question, Sirius must clearly be off his face, too intoxicated to register the room full of people watching your every movements. Surely, he pregamed a little too hard and fully believes it’s just the two of you in the common room because why else would he be standing here with his large hands caressing your face so gently?

Sirius smirks, little did you know there wasn’t one drop of alcohol in his body, however he was drunk on you. “I know,” he whispers so quietly it was almost swept away before connecting your lips together in a deep kiss.

Sirius’ lips have always felt like home; warm and soft and never failed to make butterflies and fireworks explode in your tummy, his kisses always made your head dizzy and knees weak. You couldn’t believe you had gone a full week without them, without him. The music around you fades into nothing, all you can focus on his Sirius lips and tongue and how they dance against yours and his hands as they travel from your face down to your hips, clinging onto you as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away. You let your own hands get tangled in his curly hair, determined to show him you don’t want him to go anywhere. Ever.

You find yourself chasing his lips when he finally pulls away, breathlessly. He chuckles at your movements and pecks your lips lightly twice before opening his eyes, he finds you already staring up at him confusion smeared all across your features.

“M’sorry for being a dick, I care for you so much baby and I was shit scared that if everyone knew about us then somehow it would ruin what we had and I’m terrified of losing you. But I realise now that I was throwing it all away by keeping you a secret, so I’m not going to do that anymore.” Sirius then looks over your head and nods at James. “Now Prongs,” James turns off the record player which causes a few people to groan at the loss of music. James gives Sirius a cheesy grin, you see Remus and Peter standing beside the bespectacled boy all 3 of them giving Sirius enthusiastic thumbs up.

You turn your attention back to Sirius who is now standing on top of the nearby table. You and the rest of the Gryffindor house all gawk the boy, uncertain what is about to happen.

“My darling Y/N, I want everyone here tonight to bear witness to what I’m about to say,” Sirius has always been dramatic and now was no expection. He clears his throat, raising his voice to ensure everyone can hear him, “Y/N L/N you are my everything and I love you. I’m sorry for being a complete tosser but it would make me a very, very happy man if you agree to be my girlfriend? Again.”

The smile that consumes your face is so big and bright it hurts your cheeks, you know you look like a proper sap but you don’t care, “get down here you big idiot so I can kiss you.” You motion for Sirius to join you again.

It was Sirius’ turn to grin as he jumps down from the table and makes his way towards you, “is that a yes then?”

You roll your eyes playfully at him, wrapping your arms around his waist, Sirius immediately wraps his around your shoulders giving them a light squeeze, “of course Sirius.”

Sirius doesn’t think his smile could get any bigger, well that was until he heard you mumble 4 words into his chest. He knew in that moment he was a complete goner for you. I love you too.

[sparkkeyper]

A Matter of Trust

My take on the “night at Crowley’s flat” fic. 

Swapping faces requires complete trust. Unfortunately, Aziraphale has not been particularly honest leading up to Armageddon and it's hard to overcome that doubt.

Words: 2295

Warnings: None

-------------------

"You really think she meant switching our actual faces?"

"I've been over it a dozen times and I'm quite sure. I've had the last 72 hours to become familiar with Agnes' peculiar brand of predictions."

Crowley blew out a long breath and took another sip of his coffee. It was the deepest hour of the night. Darkness pressed around the outside of his flat, threatening at the edges of the LED lighting. "Put a lot of stock in this prophecy, do you?"

Aziraphale nodded from where he sat nearby on the couch, the torn slip of prophecy on the cushion between them. "Absolutely. Every prediction in her book came to pass exactly as she saw it. If this is the scenario we're up against, then 'choosing our faces wisely' is our best shot at surviving it."

"Suppose that's settled, then. Once Above and Below start after us, they won't stop unless we really give them a good reason."

"I agree. Now, this will require complete trust and extraordinary focus in order to work. It isn't like lending someone a scarf."

"That's the point, I thought. Something neither side will see coming."

"Exactly. All right then." Aziraphale wriggled a bit on the couch, bracing himself. "Are you ready?"

Crowley set down his coffee and flexed his fingers. "Ready."

Aziraphale held out his hand and the demon took it. Swap with him.

Nothing happened.

"Er..."

"Ngk. Hang on." Crowley gave himself a shake. "Been a long day and all that. Lemme just refocus. Right, let's do it." He took the angel's hand again. Swap. With. Him.

Again, nothing happened.

There were several long, awkward seconds.

Get it together, you stupid snake. This is important. This could be the most important thing you've ever done. This is Aziraphale. Best friend for centuries. You know what to expect from him.

He did know what to expect. That was the problem.

The moment was stretching on far too long. He dropped the angel's hand like it had burned him and scrubbed his palms over his soot-stained face.

"Crowley?"

"It's fine! I'll make it work, give me a blessed break."

He stood and paced the room for a moment while Aziraphale sat stiffly on the couch, watching him. "Is there anything I can do to...to facilitate things? I'm not sure what the problem is."

"There's no problem, it's fine," Crowley snapped. "I've got this. Just worry about your end of it and I'll worry about mine. Right!" He spun on his heel with his hand out and Aziraphale stood to match him. "Swap, then!"

He clasped the angel's hand and tried. He could feel the miracle simmering somewhere in the ether, attempted but not complete. He reached for it, he reached with all his might.

"Crowley-"

"I can do this," he insisted, a pit forming in his stomach. He'd just held his car together for 40 miles, he could believe one little idea for 5 seconds.

"Crowley-"

"I can do this!"

"Oh for goodness' sake-"

The angel was frustrated. He had every right to be but that was beside the point. A frustrated Aziraphale got indignant. A frustrated Aziraphale stormed off.

A frustrated Aziraphale pulled away when they needed most to stick together.

Crowley blessed savagely and spun, stomping for the balcony.

"Where are-"

"I just...I need to get some air." He slammed the door behind him before Aziraphale could respond.

The night breeze from so many stories up was like a slap in the face. Crowley welcomed it, leaning heavily on the balcony railing and burying his face in his hands. He couldn't do the miracle. Not that he didn't want to - he'd rarely wanted anything so much in his life. But he couldn't get his heart into it the way it needed to be.

We're not friends!

It wasn't true, of course. But it was something Aziraphale had wanted to be true. Because it would make the angel's life so much less complicated. Crowley was a friend...until he wasn't. Crowley occupied a place of esteem...until he didn't. Aziraphale worked so very hard to view a messy world in a manageable way and sometimes cuts had to be made.

His coffee sat suddenly on the railing because it knew what was good for it, and when he raised it to his lips it obligingly added a considerable amount of whiskey.

If they couldn't do the swap, they had no future. The Earth had a new lease on life tonight, but if they couldn't swap it would be at the price of their own. He knew Hell would show no mercy and he couldn't fool himself into thinking Heaven would. But Aziraphale... When it came to Heaven, Aziraphale could fool himself into thinking a lot of things.

I don't even like you!

Even if I did I wouldn't tell you! We're on opposite sides!

Aziraphale, who always had excuses to fall back on.

Aziraphale, who had a book with the Antichrist's address and hadn't told him.

Aziraphale who, when the world was on the brink of destruction, had kept calling out to Heaven.

If it came down to their partnership or Heaven, Heaven was the first to be appeased, no contest. Crowley understood his reasons. Aziraphale was, at his core, an angel. He treasured that identity even if he disagreed with his superiors and assignments. He held out hope in goodness, in Her, in a way Crowley never could. He wanted so badly for everything to turn out nice and good in the end, and Crowley could not take that from him.

When Heaven couldn't provide, Crowley was there to be his safety net. But Heaven was always, always first.

The balcony door clicked behind him and hesitant footsteps stepped out into the night. "If there's anything I can do to help you focus, you need only ask."

Crowley couldn't bring himself to look at him. "Focus isn't the problem."

Aziraphale was quiet for a very long moment. "Oh," he said softly.

There was no shock in his voice. No condemnation either. Crowley wondered if it would take some time to sink it, given everything that had already happened to them tonight, but as Aziraphale joined him at the balcony railing he knew that the angel understood what this meant.

Dull blue eyes followed Crowley's gaze out over London and Aziraphale took a slow sip of his tea. "This is my fault, isn't it?"

"Don't," Crowley told him tiredly. "What's done is done."

"But the consequences are ongoing. And will be for a long time, I expect." Aziraphale sighed heavily. "I am responsible, I won't pretend otherwise."

"I tried," Crowley confessed, the words barely audible over the background hum of the city. "I truly did."

"I don't doubt it."

A breeze wandered in. Tousled through red and blonde hair. Wandered somewhere else.

"I suppose I ought to at least ask...was it slow over time or was it because of this past week?"

Crowley didn't answer for a moment, taking another sip of his coffee. "Bit of both."

"Mmm." Aziraphale nodded, not particularly surprised by this. "I should have seen this coming, really. I should have seen a good many things coming."

"Stop it," the demon muttered. "You can't see everything coming. Something something ineffability."

"Is just one of the excuses I've been hiding behind for a very long time. And now it's caught up with me. With us." He sighed. "I suppose it's not just evil that contains the seeds of its own destruction."

Crowley didn't have the energy to come up with a biting response. He just looked exhausted. "I don't regret a minute of it, you know," he murmured. "The Arrangement. You and I. Wouldn't trade it for anything." There were dark circles under his eyes. "But I can't trust you the way I'd need to for this to work. I wish I could. I've tried. I just can't do it."

Aziraphale grimaced to hear the words out loud, but did not dispute it. How could he? "I don't blame you. You're right - it's not fair to ask you to trust me when I've squandered your trust so thoroughly."

We're not friends, hung thick in the air between them.

"Not that I think you don't care," Crowley clarified. "I know you do. You're terrible at hiding it, really. And you came to find me today before it all ended. That's not nothing." He took another sip of coffee. "But you also lied to my face. Repeatedly."

"I did," the angel acknowledged quietly.

"While the world was ending."

"Yes."

"That hurt, Aziraphale."

Aziraphale bit his lip hard. "I know. I'd take it back if I could. But I suppose it's too late to make a difference now."

They stood in silence for a time. Then Crowley sighed and turned back to the flat. "Come on. It's been a long day. There's wine in the kitchen, we may as well enjoy it while we can before they come for us."

The angel followed him inside and watched as he pulled glasses from a cabinet. "Thank you again for allowing me to stay the night. You didn't have to, after everything."

"Stay as long as you like," the demon uncorked the wine bottle. "Your shop's gone. Fuck's sake, I'm not a monster."

"No." Aziraphale's expression was very, very soft. "You're not."

Crowley took off his sunglasses and looked up at him at last: this demon whose heart had been broken too many times. "I want you to be all right, Aziraphale. I need you safe. I need you alive. I want to see you happy. But I don't know how far I can meet you."

"I can't say I'm surprised, after all I've put you through," the angel admitted ruefully. "Denying we were ever friends, or insinuating that you were somehow less than I. I've been a rather dreadful friend to you over the centuries."

Crowley hung his head, wine forgotten. "I know why you keep us at a distance and I know why you lied about the boy. You were doing what you thought was best at the time. I can't blame you for that. But to do what that prophecy wants, when push comes to shove I need to believe with all my heart that you won't leave me hanging. And I...I can't bring myself to believe that." He scrubbed his hands across his face. "Given time I might, but we don't have time. I can't do it. And I hate it. Because that's going to get you killed. I need you alive but once they come for us, I won't be able to save you. Not this time."

"You talk as though you're not in danger yourself," Aziraphale's face crumpled. "Crowley, if Below gets their hands on you they will destroy you utterly. I will not let that happen. I can't take back what I've said but you are the dearest thing in this world to me and I'm not going to stand back and let them take you."

Crowley looked like he was trying so very hard to hope but just couldn't get there. "I want to believe that, I really do. But I can't do blind faith like you can. I don't have it in me anymore."

Aziraphale closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to the demon's. "I'm not asking you to forgive what I've done. And I'm not asking for blind faith. Goodness knows how much trouble that's caused." His voice cracked at that but he plunged onward. "I'm only asking you to believe me when I say that I will not let Hell have you. If we cannot switch our faces, we will find another way."

"But your prophecy. Agnes-"

"Agnes be damned." That shut Crowley up. Tears glistened on the angel's cheeks. "If I have to march Down There after you. If I have to take up a sword. If I have to stand between you and God Herself. I swear to you on everything that I am, I will not let Hell have you."

And in that brief moment, for just that one promise in a sea of other broken ones, Crowley believed he was telling the truth.

His hand scrabbled for Aziraphale's and he pushed for all he was worth before he could lose this moment, he pushed every atom of his soul into the heart of his best friend, gave him everything that he was and ever could be, and in that instant he trusted Aziraphale to keep him safe.

And then Aziraphale was pouring into him and Crowley opened himself up and let it happen, let him seep into every muscle, every bone, every molecule of his being -

-and suddenly there was no difference between them, there was no angel, no demon, just a tumult of soul and hope and pain and fear and resolve and-

Crowley tumbled out the other side like falling out of bed. He gasped in a strangled breath, stumbling backwards into the kitchen counter and staring suddenly into his own face. He stared down at his clothes - beige - and his hands - manicured - and back up, feeling the warmth of his best friend's corporation surrounding him like a blanket. Aziraphale, in Crowley's, did much the same.

There was stunned silence in the flat as they let this sink in. Then one of them snapped, or maybe both, and suddenly Crowley's face was buried in the collar of a stinking, burnt leather jacket and Aziraphale was crushing him close, and both were squeezing so hard the other could scarcely breathe.

"Thank you," Aziraphale managed at last. "For trusting me enough to let me save you."

"Not if I save you first," Crowley choked out, and broken giggles filled the flat.

(Also on AO3!)

[wizkiddx]

worst case scenario part 5

finally!! so sorry its been an age to anyone still here but lives been interesting atm so....  also this really feels a bit rambley and the ending is deff underdeveloped but I just kind of wanted this done tbh x 

[previous part] [part 1] 

warnings:  hospitals - ICU, ventilation that sort of stuff, just a lot of ANGST post a difficult birth - please don't read if this could be upsetting for you, and my inbox is always open if u wanna chat :) 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In a complete 360 degree flip from earlier that day, after leaving the hospital Tom had become obsessively attached to Aurora. They’d got back to his parents place in Tom’s car; Aurora in the carseat Y/n and Tom had ready in their car door for her arrival. Clearly his parents had already pre-warned his brothers, who had thankfully already gone over to Tom and Y/n’s - collecting the Moses basket amongst other items Harry had been listed off from his mother. 

Apart from explaining a little behind her name to his parents on the journey back, Tom had spoken very little, choosing to keep himself to himself - physically stationing himself beside the Moses basket the whole time. Of course, there had been a bit of light conversation and almost procedural passing round of Aurora between all her uncles and grandparents, which Tom had kept a wether eye on - but ultimately not engaged. 

He also knew that physically his body was failing him. Although eating a little of the lasagne Sam had made for everyone, he could only stomach a minuscule amount, which did little to boost his energy levels. It felt as though sleeping was the enemy, because he was neither ready to leap into the car if the phone went; or to hear the smallest sound from the wicker basket, suggesting something was wrong. So as much as he tried to fight it, before even nine o’clock he began to dose off on the familiar couch of his parents sitting room - occasionally jerking himself awake before loosing the fight once again.

Nikki had tried to gently push him to take a break in the spare bedroom, which had been Tom’s before he’d moved out, but was unsuccessful - every time he retaliated with a stern shake of his head, while checking his phone just in case he’d missed a notification. Eventually Nikki relented, later in the evening both her and Dom retiring to bed; once Sam had agreed to stick around downstairs till a bit later - as a chef he worked till late in the nights, so even on his days off like today, his sleep schedule was just a little fucked. 

Left alone with his new little niece and now pretty firmly asleep brother, Sam draped a blanket over the latter just in time for Aurora to start fussing in the need of a bottle. His mum had explained how to do everything, how to mix the formula and heat it up, so after scooping up the little wriggling girl in the hope his brother wouldn’t get disturbed, Sam dealt with her. To be honest no matter how clueless and useless he felt, Aurora was just so cute - if a little wrinkly and alien looking, but in a good way. This was the first baby any of them had had, so the first time Sam experienced this instant connection and love for the little being that was his niece or nephew. It was terrifying, lifting the bottle against her lips for the first time, but then it just sort of seemed to work. She was incredibly smart for less than 24 hours old, instantly latching on, like she had done for Haz at the hospital. 

That gave Sam a little confidence in his ability as an uncle, giving himself a satisfied nod while swaying from the kitchen to move back into the living room. It was just a preference to be within reach of Tom… just in case. His poor brother still hadn’t moved, slumped against the corner of the sofa, leaning toward the now empty Moses basket. Normally, Sam seeing his supposed heart throb of a brother looking as rough as he did now - double chin, mouth hanging slightly open, deep sunken eyes - he would’ve taken a photo to blackmail him with. Now though, it was just desperately sad, seeing his brother like this, hand still clutching his phone tightly above the blanket. 

Rather hoping the calm would last for a while, Sam successfully finished off feeding Aurora; winded and then put her down to sleep again just in time. Because, perhaps expectedly, Tom’s phone began to blare off the default iPhone ringtone making Tom jump and throw the device across the room as he awoke with a start. Sam ran to grab it off the floor, mainly with the hope of turning it off before Aurora was awoken too - knowing that it was best tonight to tackle one thing at a time. 

And so he immediately swiped to answer the call, not even registering who the call was from, much rather just wanting the noise to stop. 

“Hello?”

“Sam? It’s Harrison” Tom had jumped up from his seat hovering beside Sam with petrified look. It took barely seconds for Tom to snatch the phone back, launching questions down the receiver. 

“Slow down would you? Y/n is fine I was just phoning to check in.”

“Oh er yeh… um sorry I just… just thought…”

“It’s the other way mate. Nurse says she’s starting to get there cos first she moved her arm a bit when we pinched her shoulder and then I just called because she started to like gag and now the ventilator thing is gone.”

“W-what?”

“I think she’s breathing by herself? Like she’s got an oxygen mask instead of the tubes down her throat.” Clearly Harrison was not, by any means, a medical expert. 

“They said she would have the ventilator for a few days at least.”

“I guess Y/n got bored? To be fair she couldn’t ever sit still.”

“I’m coming to you.”

“Tom it’s nearly midnight, I was supposed to be kicked out at 10. Just come back in the morning, they won’t let you in I’m pretty certain.”

“What if she wakes up!”

“Then they’ll call you! She’s getting better Tom you should be try and relax for like a second.”

“FUCK OFF HAZ! If she wakes up all alone and terrified then-“

“I’m not going to having a screaming match on the phone with you. I think we both know you wanting to come is more for you than for Y/n, because Y/n would want you to be looking after Aurora.”

Again guilt tripping using the newborn. Harsh but effective. Stopping Tom’s anger dead in it’s tracks.

“Look I can put the nurse on for her to tell you they won’t let you in and they’ll call if anything happens - but you already know that.”

“Yeh sorry fine … I know don’t bother.”

“Okay… I’m was gonna head back to my place and I know you’ve probably got your mum begging to fuss over Aurora but if-“

“Can you come?”

“Didn’t need to ask mate.”

And that’s how the night went. Until Harrison arrived at the Holland family home, Tom had spent the time pacing back and forth, blatantly ignoring the pleas of Sam just to sit down. Once he arrived though, going through all the updates in a lot more detail Tom seemed, for the first time, optimistic. By no means could you call him relaxed or happy - but compared to the rollercoaster that had been the last 24 hours, Harrison thought that was more than enough. Aurora had started fussing again at 1 but by the time it had turned into a full blown scream at Tom, Sam already had the bottle ready. It took a little bit of encouragement and promise that Tom would be able to feed her but actually, she instantly latched on, settled in her Dad’s hold while guzzling down the contents of the bottle. 

After a bit of winding she ended up falling asleep on her dads chest, only when he felt himself start to flag did Tom place her back in the basket. Harrison and him ended up crashing on the sofas, Sam retiring to his own room. Phone still tightly clutched in Tom’s grip.

////////////////////

The first thing Y/n became properly aware of was this intense heaviness all over her body. It felt as though her limbs were all composed completely of lead, meaning as much as she was just craving rolling over, it was as though her own body was holding her down. A very alien feeling that unsettled her slightly, trying to shake of the misty feeling in her head to work it all out. It took a while to drag herself out of the depths of sleep, to the point where background noise slowly faded in - an alien beeping as well as distant shuffling making her heart thump with unease. Finally, perhaps most distressingly , her eyes felt glued shut. Not because they were heavy, in the way someone extremely sleep deprived cant keep their eyes open; rather stiff like they hadn’t been used in so long they’d rusted over or something. 

The feeling  was quite horrific and isolating- as though she were locked into her body without an escape in sight. Whilst trying to calm her racing thoughts, Y/n chose to focus completely on the one thing she could do. She could listen. She listened to the beeps, focusing on the type of sound, the way it chimed so regularly; and it’s form. It was familiar, for that she was sure but for now at least she couldn’t place it. 

It felt like an investigation, trying with all her might to try and workout what the fuck was going on. To put it mildly. 

The most useful clue though, a breakthrough if you will, is when a voice sounded - clear and familiar. 

“Excuse me nurse?” It was Nikki. For sure. It was a clue, but didnt seem to make a hell of a lot of sense. Y/n was so focused on why the hell Nikki was apparently watching her sleep unconscious, she completely missed the reference to the nurse. As in hospital. As in Y/n was in hospital. “… I’m just going to swap out for my sons friend.”

“Harrison?” That voice seemed new and unfamiliar.

“Yes, he won’t be a second I’m sure.”

What was Harrison doing here too? 

It was all very confusing and hurt Y/n’s brain to try and unpick. Gradually then, everything sort of melted away, diving back into the darkness.

The next time Y/n woke up things were different. This time she woke up like she would at any time of day. She woke up and her eyes followed suit. Not particularly easily, since as soon as they cracked open she was almost blinded by brilliant white lights, it taking a build up of willpower before she tried it again - bracing for the pain. 

By now she knew something was wrong. She remembered all these patchy and hazy periods. All full of confusion and disorientation but with different voices keeping her at least semi calm. Familiar voices, all too often laced with such emotion. Especially Tom’s. She couldn’t remember what he had said, nor had she probably been able to understand it at the time - what stuck was the tone. The sadness, the hopelessness , the emptiness. 

It was scary. But it made her want to help. Made her want to open her eyes. 

After wincing at the dazzling white surroundings, Y/n blinked her eyes quickly, in an attempt to get them to adjust quicker. She saw an unfamiliar ceiling, one that was tiled in a similar way to her old school canteen. There was a  weird pressure round her mouth, eyes quickly darting down to see edges of a clear mask pressed up against the bridge of her nose. That wasn’t it though, the further she looked the more her eyes panned down this pale blue blanket, following the outline of her legs to the bottom raised edge of the bed. The hospital bed. 

Her hospital bed. 

As much as she wanted to jump up in panic; physically right now that was an impossibility. So instead, Y/n focused on trying to gleam as much information from the situation. It took a hell of a lot of effort, her muscles literally stiff and ridgid with disuse but with a small groan her neck eventually agreed to follow orders. Just a small tilt to the left and suddenly Y/n felt so much more less panicked. Everything was that bit less scary because there was Tom. 

Admittedly he didn’t look amazing, or even not bad. Tom was sat with his back pressed against the side of chair, so his body faced her. Had he not looked so ruined, Y/n would’ve laughed at the side of his face squashed into the back of the seat. But he did look horrific, for lack of a better word. His brown eyes were locked shut, but also looked puffy and red, while dark at the same time - as though he’d been attempting to gouge his own eyes out prior. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, hence why he had appeared to have collapsed in the arm chair. At least though , he wasn’t in a hospital bed himself.

That was Y/n’s pleasure. 

Her next job was to get her neck muscles to pull her head to the other side. It was a slow wincing gesture, yet she was so aware of another presence that needed to be addressed too. But actually it was 3 people.

Right at the back, a nurse sat on a little spinny chair, scribbling something down in a file of papers but to be quite honest that wasn’t were Y/n’s focus zeroed in on. Instead on Harrison who was sat in chair mirroring Tom, except instead of being passed out asleep he was cradling a baby. Her baby. 

Y/n literally felt her heart in her throat at that point, eye widening almost comically. That was her baby - it must be? The monitors all started to loose their regularity as Y/n threw an uncoordinated limb to that side of the bed- already having realised her throat was way too scratchy to try to say anything comprehensible. 

Immediately that got the attention of both the nurse, who immediately leapt up and called for support, as well as Harrison - who looked like he was seeing a ghost. 

“Oh my-Y/n-?” Luckily he kept the baby safe in his arms rather than dropping her in shock, whilst Y/n kept her eyes locked onto the bundle in his arms. Nodding down, she tried to remove the mask (actually just very slightly knocking it to one side) and attempted to ask of the baby. Her throat, being inhumanly dry and scratchy, didn’t really work but Haz still got the message, scoffing in amazement. 

“Aurora… here’s your mummy.” Harrisons voice was quiet and wavering as he delicately held Aurora against Y/n’s collar bone, the babies little tuft of har tickingling her chin. Now Y/n was crying with happiness, looking up at Haz’s icy blue eyes and questioning her name. Harrison confirmed with another disbelieving whisper, whilst the arm that wasn’t still holding Aurora clasped Y/n’s hand with a death grip. “Tom’s choice.”

The mention of him had both of them shift their gaze across the room to Tom’s chair. Even with all the developments, Tom still seemed completely unaware, fast asleep with the side of his face squished against the back of the chair making his lips slightly askew. Y/n were acutely aware of the small congregation of doctors that had accumulated in the corner of the bay but they seemed to be respectfully waiting before they would prod and poke. Haz went to call Tom’s name, before he could though, Y/n squeezed his arm and minutely shook her head. That wasn’t what the blue eyes boy had been expecting, causing Haz to unfold and bring Aurora back up to his chest as he quirked his eyebrows at her.  

She didnt need to be filled in on the situation to know exactly what was happening. She had no idea why she was in the hospital bed; how long it had been since she’d given birth - but she knew all she needed to. From Harrisons unbelievably shocked face; and from the state of Tom - it hadn’t been good. Her fiancé looked almost ghostly, it seemed evident that he needed her. First then, she gestured to Haz for some water, which after a panicked look to the nurse; then from the nurse to various doctors; she was eventually given permission. 

After somewhat alleviating the sandpaper feeling in her throat, Y/n then croakily asked for a bit of privacy. Right now the doctors all were gawking, Harrison assumed it to be because they’d all led him and Tom to believe she wouldn’t wake up for a while- and even then she was supposed to barely be awake, not able to talk and drink or anything of the sort. With an ecstatic nod Harrison, shuffled out - while doing so prompting the medical people to draw the curtains completely shut round the bay.  

Already Y/n had tears welling up in her eyes, purely because she hated seeing him like this. He just looked so broken and shattered which honestly felt worlds worse than the labour she’d gone through. Her whole body still hurt, stiff and achy for reasons yet to be explained to Y/n. None of that mattered though, as she strained her arm out to the side in order to gently reach his knee that was folded up and sticking out awkwardly at an angle. After swallowing one again, Y/n squeezed round the joint and tried to shake it slightly. Instantly the man jumped up in his seat, heavy eyes blinking quickly and repeatedly as he tried to adjust to the room. 

Being so sleep deprived and stressed out, Tom’s brain was not working normally, instead with a delayed haze as he apparently skipped over Y/n in the bed, rather surveying the the closed curtains and Harrison’s now empty chair. As he was lifting himself to sit more normally up, uncurling from the armchair, was when he noticed the hand on his knee. Breath caught in his chest, Tom instinctively bit his lip as his eyes gradually traced up the hand, to the forearm, up to the shoulder. It felt like a fever dream, as though all it would take is for him to move and she’d slip away again. But there were her green eyes, gleaming in a way that literally lifted a weight from his shoulders. Her smile was tired and a little confused, but so her - after spending days of just seeing all her features lax, Tom swore that it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Only when Y/n finally croaked out a small ‘hi’ did Tom gain awareness of his body, or rather control of it, enough to leap up and leave over the bed - cradling her face in both his palms. Like a psycho he stared intently, swapping his focus from her left to her right eye like a madman. 

“Your-I-I” He was trying to speak, trying to communicate all the thoughts and regrets of things he wished he’d said to her all at once. Weakly she reached up to fully remove the oxygen mask, dragging It down to below her chin, before squeezing his wrists in comfort. Only then did Tom notice the small puddle that had collected on her cheek, which made him realise he was absolutely bawling. 

“You ‘kay?” Her voice was like sandpaper but everything about her was so completely Y/n and it was just giving Tom this unreal wave of euphoria. Physically incapable of replying, the brunette just scoffed, leaning over the bed even more so he could press his forehead on hers. He was laughing too, the fact she was asking him that seemed so preposterous, given all the tubes and wires attached to her at the moment. It took Y/n squeezing his wrist harder again to make him lean back a little, searching her eyes with his. She seemed so worried; seemed so full of concern - only then did Tom consider quite how much he’d ‘let himself go’ the past couple of days. 

It had been two days since Aurora was born, only 48 hours. But the transformation was mad, none more so than mentally. 48 hours had quite literally changed everything for Tom; changed life forever and himself too. It was showing in his unshaven face, with unwashed  greasy hair, everything just looking ‘tired’.

“‘m just really glad your awake.” It was so honest and sincere it did have Y/n wondering what had happened and for how long. What had she put her fiancé through?

“How long?”

“The worst two and a half days of my life… I got you now though, yeh?” Tom whispered wetly, while stroking the side of her cheek - wiping both his and her tears away.

“Always.”

The doctors and nurses then came in, podding and poking Y/n like no tomorrow while Harrison and Tom stood back a little - excitedly grinning at each other and the sleepy girl Haz was cradling, before Tom stole her off him. There was a momentary sick-to-his-stomach feeling after some of the professionals had cleared, seeing her eyes shut again felt like everything was crashing around him. Thankfully though, one of doctors noticed the look of despair on his face, explaining to the two men that she was just asleep normally. That although sh’ed spent along time unconscious, waking from a medical coma is in itself exhausting. 

After the initial excitement of Y/n waking the next couple of days were pretty samey. She’d been moved down to a normal ward, no longer needed all the incessant bleeping machines but still had to stay in hospital. Tom found it tricky too, he just always felt he needed to be by her side ‘just in case’. In fact, it had been a source of a bit of tension between him and his fiancé - she could see how exhausted he was from looking after Aurora, plus the stress of being in the hospital for hours a day with her. As Y/n got better and more switched on to the state of him, she realised it was inevitable he’d crash at some point.

But after a week and a half in hospital - comprising of a baby, emergency surgery, 3 days on intensive care, followed by 8 on the ward - Y/n was discharged. Nikki and Dom moved in to Y/n and Tom’s place, to provide care support both for Aurora; and Y/n for the rest of her recovery; and secretly Tom for everything he’d been through. 

She was still order on bed rest due to her surgical scars, so Tom and Nikki helped to set her up in the master bedroom as soon as they got in. Of course, everyone was aware of Toms odd mood that day. Until then the only thing he wanted was to get his fiancé back at home with him but now she was over the threshold his excitement and joy appeared to have been zapped out of him. In fact, he’d barely uttered more than a couple sentences. So once Y/n was properly comfortable and Dom had brought Aurora and the cot into the room, Tom’s parents quickly made themselves scarce. 

Tom hadn’t stopped, finding some reason to rummage around in the chest of drawers m while Y/n chewed at her bottom lip, watching him. 

“Tom?” All she got in response was a light hum. “Tom please will you come and sit down for a minute?”

“I just need to-“

“Tom!” Her exclamation finally properly got Tom to listen, jumping round to face her. “Please... please will you just stop for a second?” Y/n’s eyes felt as though they were boring holes in his skull. Really, Tom knew he’d be forced into this at some point because he couldn’t avoid Y/n. She had some power of mind reading over him. So with a defeated nod and sagging shoulders Tom rounded the bed, weaving between his side and Auroras cot - where she was sleeping soundly. 

A silence overcame the room as he heavily planted himself on his side of the bed, mirroring Y/n’s posture leant against the headboard. 

“I think we need to have an honest conversation T.”

“If you want.” Nothing about his reply was the picture of enthusiasm, causing Y/n to hesitate a little. 

“Look I am so beyond grateful for everything you’ve done while I was in hospital... and it doesn’t take a genius to tell you’ve worked yourself half to death-“

“I’m fine-“

“Don’t lie to me. I know you’re trying to protect me but please... will you just talk to me? Honestly?” 

His reply this time wasn’t completely unforeseeable but it still shocked Y/n quite how quickly it happened, especially almost unprovoked. Because that’s all it took for Tom to break, for the past 2 weeks to get their vengance, for all the repressed emotion to escape. 

He was crying- well more accurately sobbing- into his hands, his back quaking. Naturally Y/n reached out to pull him into her side, suppressing the groan of pain as she moved a little too much for her abdomen to handle. “I’m here T. I got you and I’m not going anywhere m‘kay?” 

And that’s how they stayed, for at least 10 minutes, with Tom crying into her shoulder as Y/n rubbed up and down his back. Eventually though, everything did calm down and Tom repositioned himself to lean his head on her shoulder just facing forward and focusing on playing with her fingers, lacing them fingers with his. 

In all the time since she’d woken up, Y/n was yet to broach the subject of their babies name yet. She sensed it was a sensitive topic to say the least, so had thought it best to wait till they were properly alone - not in a ward of 6 strangers where the only privacy came in flimsy blue curtains. 

“So…. Aurora huh? Thought it was too airy-fairy, head-in-the-clouds for you?”  Smiling lightly, both of them were transported back to the pregnancy when they spent hours and hours bickering over names. Aurora had always been Y/n’s favourite but to Tom thought it was more a name for a hippy kid who went around clad in tie dye and bandanas. 

“Still is a bit...but I needed a bit of a miracle and Iceland was in my head. Plus I sort of accidentally word vomited while shouting at Haz, for being nice to me.” Iceland as in when Tom had proposed under the aurora borealis in the freezing sky - when Y/n had agreed, promised even, to be with him forever.

“But you like it?”

“Of course... mother always knows best after all.”

“I think it suits her too. One of your best choices to date, listening to me.” Y/n mused, earning herself a very delicate but still playful elbow in the side before the room drifted back to a much more comfortable silence. 

“We’re gonna get through this you know? Me, you and her, we’re together in this... I’m sorry I wasn’t in the beginning and I’m sorry I hurt you but now? I promise you got me and I’m not going anywhere…” Y/n needed to say it and needed Tom to properly listen. “ ...literally, I still cant walk properly.” Tom chuckled wetly at that, which made Y/n feel a lot better too. 

To be completely honest, Tom was still hurt and he knew it’d take some mending to move past everything. By no means did he blame Y/n in anyway but just the fact he was left alone and abandoned - well, it was the worst time in his life. The way Y/n understood that and had apologised to him - if completely unnecessarily- meant everything. Meant she would help him to heal... whilst he helped her too. 

“Can we just go to sleep? I need to wake up beside you in our bed not at tiny hospital one.” It was only 3 in the afternoon but because of Y/n’s medicine she was constantly drowsy and Tom? Tom was still in this permanent state of exhaustion. So it wasn’t so much of a weird request as it was on the face of it. With a nod, Y/n shuffled down on the bed a bit more resting her head against the top of Tom’s. It was exactly what they both needed, just a bit of peace with each other. 

That lasted all of 5 minutes before Aurora woke and started to scream. 

Life had most definitely changed. Especially for Tom. Because even though he was he was mentally and physically exhausted,  he only appreciated his daughters screams whole heartedly... because Y/n was there groaning with a tired smile too. They were in this together. 

~~~~

 I really hope the ending didnt disappoint too much, im aware its rushed as hell, but thank you for getting this far! And I hope maybe this series has done a teeny tiny bit to normalise not everything in pregnancy and child birth being perfect - that there is morbidity and mortality associated. Obviously this is all fictional (esp the amazingly quick recovery and lack of neurological/other impairments) and not medically accurate in the slightest !!

my inbox is always open :) t x

Tagging : @whitewolf51 

[dreamescapeswriting]

BTS Reaction || He Says Something Mean To You [Request]

A/N: I’ll give someone a huge hug if they know the song referenced within the middle of Taehyungs….Hope this is okay for you ✨🌷💜

Seokjin:

Being away from Jin was hard, you both loved each other very much so when you finally saved up enough money you decided to fly out and surprise him on tour thinking it would be a nice surprise but you were wrong. Jin was stressed out on tour, he was worrying about everything happening around him and now you were there adding to his stress levels, all he wanted to do was cuddle you and spend time with you but the schedule just wouldn't let him which led the fight in the middle of the hotel room,

"Jin I just asked what time you had to be there." You said as he paced around the hotel room, running his hands through his hair as he turned red in the face.

"I'm busy! I'm fucking busy to get used to it!" You jumped back as he raised your voice at you and nodded, knowing it was time to shut up and not talk to him. You knew when he was in a bad mood or stressed out it was best to stay out of the way and so you sat on the bed and waited for him to leave but he was still rambling on.

"I get it Jin," You whispered and he snapped, it was as if someone had replaced your boyfriend with someone you didn't recognise anymore and now he was blinded by anger and stress,

"You don't get it and you never will. You're not used to this lifestyle, just go home! No one wanted you to come and see me least of all me." He yelled and you felt your heart shatter at the bottom of your stomach, without another word he walked out of the room and you rushed to get up from the bed, packing up everything you'd brought with you and began looking for your passport if that's how he felt you couldn't be around him anymore.

(X)

Jin came back to the hotel room after practise expecting to find you still laying in the bed but he noticed all of your things were gone, nothing was in the room except for his clothes, he began calling your phone but it was going to answerphone.

"She's at the airport," Jungkook said as he looked at his phone to see Jin rushing out of the hotel, you'd told Jungkook that you were going home and not to tell Jin but he wasn't about to lie to the man that had helped raise him.

"Thanks!" Jin yelled as he reached the elevator doors and got inside, not giving up on your phone number and leaving messages for you.

(X)

"Thank you, please enjoy your flight." You began walking through the terminal when you heard someone screaming your name, you ignored it thinking you were going crazy when a hand grabbed your wrists and was attempting to pull you back out of the terminal, you followed the hand up to the face and Jin was standing there panting and sweating.

"Where are you going?" He asked as you got out of the terminal and stood near the side of the door, being watched by people who were boarding the plane.

"Home. I know when I'm not wanted." He thought back to that morning and felt bad,

"I didn't mean it-"

"Yes, you did. You never say anything you don't mean." You told him as you pulled your carry on bag over your shoulder, you were being watched by everyone who was passing by.

"We'll talk about it when you're home from tour." You told him but he shook his head,

"We'll talk about it back at the hotel." Your name was called out by the stewardess and you knew you had to get on the plane.

"I have to go." You told him but he wasn't letting go of you and you knew Jin would stand his ground all night if he had to.

"I won't hesitate to carry you back to the hotel." He threatened and you stared at the stewardess who was now shutting the terminal door, it was too late to get on the plane and you were going to have to go back with Jin.

"I'm swapping rooms with Namjoon." You said as you began walking with him in the direction of the car he'd taken to come and get you in,

"No, you're not," He mumbled to you but you ignored him, both of you could hold a grudge which in this case wasn't the best thing because you would hold this against him forever if you had to.

"You have to know I didn't mean it...I'm just tired and stressed." He explained as you got into the car, you wanted to believe him but he'd never shouted at you like that before.

"It was a mistake, I'm sorry, I promise." You bit on your lip and nodded at him, going to apologise for running away like a child instead of talking it out like the adults you were.

Yoongi:

You and Yoongi were having the same fight you'd been having for the last week, it would stop and start because neither of you liked fighting with one another. You both loved each other a lot but it was just hard sometimes, this week it was because he wasn't talking to you. He'd been too busy in the studio to spend time with you or text you back and you were starting to get upset by it, especially when he decided to stay over at the studio instead of coming home to your shared apartment. That morning you woke up without him by your side and you had enough, you wanted you boyfriend to come home, he didn't have to talk to you he just had to get a decent nights sleep. You wanted to make sure he was looking after himself even if you were bickering, you still cared about him a lot and you weren't going to let a small fight get in the way.

"Are you coming home tonight?" You asked as you stood in his studio, his eyes didn't lift from the screen and you knew he wasn't listening, he did this a lot when he was working, he would get lost in it so much he forgot the world around him. You stared around the studio and it looked like he was living on instant noodles and water,

"Yoongi?" You questioned and he turned around to look at you before turning his attention back to the screen,

"What do you want?" He grumbled at you as he began editing something on the screen,

"I want to know when my boyfriend is coming home." You answered him but again he said nothing, and you groaned starting to clean up the studio you didn't understand how he could work like that. Your hands were about to take a bottle from his desk when he pushed you away and started yelling about how he needed the space.

"For fuck sake! Just leave me alone," You looked at the floor not knowing what else to do with yourself all of your fights with Yoongi had been the same, there was never any yelling but now he was yelling at you.

"I was just trying to help-"

"Well don't! Stay out of my way and go home!" He was reddening in the face as he spoke to you,

"Yoongi I just want to know when you're coming home-"

"I'll come home when I come home! God, you just don't understand how this works! I need to stay here and finish this job Y/n! I can't just leave anytime I want because my girlfriend is feeling needy all of the damn time!" That one hurt, you nodded in agreement trying not to cry in front of him and you slowly made your way out of his studio, coming face to face with Namjoon and Hoseok who'd heard the yelling and came to see what was happening, you tried to hide your tears but Hoseok saw them as you sprinted away from them.

(X)

Yoongi walked through the front door of the apartment and noticed all of the lights were off which meant you were up in bed, he snuck through the living room and into the kitchen as quietly as possible and went to grab something proper to eat thinking about what Hoseok had been saying to him earlier. He told Yoongi you'd been crying but Yoongi knew it wasn't true, you never cried over anything. He walked back into the living room when he noticed your sleeping figure on the sofa, you were laid under a blanket and you had mascara running down your cheeks.

"Y/n?" You woke up as soon as his cold hands came into contact with your skin and you stared at him, he was studying your face as he took note of everything. Your eyes were bloodshot and you looked like you hadn't gotten changed, you were still dressed in the same clothes as earlier.

"If I'd have known you were coming home I would have cooked you something." You said as you noticed him holding another instant noodle pot in his hand, all thoughts of him yelling at you were gone from your mind but not his. Everything he'd said to you earlier came crashing back to him and he felt terrible, he said nothing but sat next to you and pulled you into his chest.

"I didn't mean a single thing I said to you....I'm just stressed and I know that is the dumbest excuse in the book but I am, the new comeback and everything around us has me stressed and I-" You shut him up by pressing your lips against his to stop him from ranting so much.

"Shut up." You mumbled as you pulled away from him, you were just happy he was back at home and talking to you again.

"Next time just...Just tell me when you're stressed and I'll stay out of the way." You yawned at him and he agreed to talk to you next time everything was getting too much for him at work, you nodded over to the stairs.

"Are you coming to bed though? I've missed falling asleep to your heartbeat." You admitted and he blushed at the comment, you'd always loved falling asleep with your head on his chest while he played with your hair and he did too, though he would never admit it to anyone but you.

Hoseok:

It was Hoseok's idea to bring you on tour with him so when he started to pick fights with you for seemingly no reason you got confused. You had no idea how the one you were currently having started, one moment you were sitting in the front row talking with Jungkook while Hoseok was practising on stage and then the next moment you knew Hoseok was yelling at you after that Jungkook made himself disappear and you were left being screamed at by your boyfriend of two years. You fought sometimes as all couples did but you didn't fight a lot so when you did it was as if a volcano had been dormant for a while and was finally letting everything it had inside of it spill out, destroying everything in its path. You stayed silent throughout his rant but that only seemed to make him madder at you,

"You're always complaining that I'm never spending time with you! Fuck! I never should have brought you along." You stared at him before the words sunk into your mind, you'd had enough of him yelling at you like that so you stood up from the chair you'd been sitting in and you looked around,

"If that's how you feel maybe I'll go home?!" You weren't yelling but you weren't talking, your voice was raised just a little so he would know how much he was hurting you by talking that way but it was as if he didn't care. The bright and bubbly boyfriend you had was gone and replaced with a cold Hoseok you didn't know or want to know, you scoffed at him and walked out of the way. Going to find someone that could take you back to the hotel where you could either leave or wait for Hoseok to come to his senses.

(X)

Hoseok came to his sense shortly after you left to leave for the hotel but he didn't have time to chase after you so he prayed you would wait for him in the hotel room, the whole concert his mind was somewhere else. He kept staring out into the crowd for you but you weren't there, he looked backstage for you and the staff said they hadn't seen you since you left hours ago so he rushed to the hotel, straight into your shared room to find nothing.

"Fuck...Call me when you get this Y/n, please. You know I never meant any of it, I love you." He said to your answerphone, he was frantically trying to reach people you would go to when the en-suite door opened and you walked out wearing one of his baggy shirts, checked some shorts, and your toothbrush hanging out of your mouth as you stared at him as he stared back at you hanging up his phone. He walked up to you and took the toothbrush from your mouth, wiping away the toothpaste that had dribbled down your chin he began to rant out an apology to you. Once he finished he watched you race into the bathroom,

"I didn't think my apology was that bad." He joked knowing you were spitting out your toothpaste that had been sitting in your mouth for an uncomfortable amount of time,

"It wasn't...But you still owe me." You told him as you came back out of the bathroom and over to him, he hummed in response and wrapped his arms around you.

"What would you like?"

"I would like extra cuddles tomorrow morning." You giggled and he agreed to that, knowing he had tomorrow off and he could spend the entire day with you to make up for everything he had said that morning, he knew it was wrong for him to rant on at you like that over something that wasn't your fault.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you." He said again as you got into the bed together, you shook your head at him. You understood that he was under stress and the tour was going to add to it so you wanted to drop the subject, but Hoseok didn't. He wanted you to know he didn't mean anything he said earlier, but he couldn't talk to you because as soon as he looked down you were asleep against his chest.

Namjoon:

You knew dating Namjoon was going to be difficult, the distance, the schedules and then there were always the rumours. Nothing played harder on your relationship with Namjoon than the multiple dating rumours that always came out about him, normally you could push them to the side and ignore them but it was getting harder when you were out on tour with him and he was being distant with you. Taehyung and you were sitting in the changing room watching Jungkook play some video game when Namjoon walked through the door, you waved at him but got no response so you stayed seated with the boys and continued watching Jungkook when you heard Namjoon and Yoongi talking about the rumours. You'd already seen them that morning and you knew they weren't true, of course, they weren't true. You and Namjoon were always together so unless he was sneaking off in the middle of the night they had to be lies. Namjoon must not have noticed that you were in the room because he and Yoongi began to joke about the star he was supposedly dating that week and he let something slip he shouldn't have,

"Maybe dating her would be better than dating someone normal." Jungkook paused the game as soon as the words left Namjoon's mouth and you scrambled to your feet to try and leave as quickly as possible but it was too late, Namjoon was staring at you and Jungkook was staring at Namjoon.

"Hyung I can't believe I just heard that." Jungkook said to Joon who was watching as you made your way out of the room, he didn't know what to do so he chased after you,

"What?" You asked as he caught up to you in the hallway,

"I didn't mean it- I was just joking."

"Sure, sure. I can take jokes Joonie, what I can't take is my boyfriend wishing he was dating someone that isn't normal." You yelled gaining attention from members of staff who were all stopping and watching you fight. It was something you and Namjoon rarely did, you'd maybe had two fights in the whole of your one-year relationship and one of them was over mint ice cream.

"Whatever. I'll be at the hotel." You turned into a sprint before Namjoon could stop you and he raced after you to try and stop you leaving the venue.

(X)

When Namjoon got back to the hotel you were in the bed pretending to be asleep, you didn't want him to know you'd spent the rest of the afternoon crying into the hotel room bed.

"Baby are you asleep?" You stayed silent and kept your breathing level even after he crawled in next to you and wrapped his arms around your body,

"I know you're not." He whispered as he kissed your shoulder blade, you rolled over to face his chest and he sighed running his hands through your hair and trying to think of a way to talk about it when you spoke up,

"Can we forget you said it? I know it was a joke...I'm just-"

"Upset that I can't deny the rumours?" He finished for you and you nodded, it always upset you that you couldn't scream from the tallest building that you loved that man but you understood why and it made it a little better until rumours came out about him.

"You didn't know I was there-"

"There or not I shouldn't have said it Y/n, I love you for you and I shouldn't have said it would be easier because she wasn't normal." You nodded and he sighed holding you tighter, he wanted to lay there like that all night but he hadn't showered after the show and he was starting to cling to his clothes,

"Come and shower with me." He whispered in your ear before you both sat up in the bed.

Jimin:

Jimin had been having the time of his life on tour, he'd gone out drinking with the boys and came home to an empty hotel room with no girlfriend telling him what to do and not do which is why it was such a shock to him to come home from tour and have it all back all at once, you always being there. He walked through the living room door one night a week after getting back from tour and you greeted him as you normally would when he got home from the studio, a hug and a kiss before making him something to eat and he loved it, he really did but he just wasn't in that mood that night.

"I thought we could do something tonight," You said as you brought him some food but he wasn't listening he was too busy on his phone to even notice that you'd been talking to him.

"Jimin?" You asked but he shoved you off him and went back to his phone, he was looking through videos on his phone of him and the boys getting drunk in a hotel room and laughing. He missed being able to just let go and have fun like that.

"I think I'm going to go out with the boys tonight." He said as he got up from the sofa and looked around for his keys,

"I was hoping we could spend time together tonight-"

"No, you should go and hang out with your own friends. I bet they miss you." He said as he found his keys and headed to the front door,

"Jimin I don't want you to go out tonight."

"Why are you being so needy tonight?! You're always so controlling!" He yelled before he could even process what he was trying to say, you just nodded and then looked at your phone,

"I'm going to stay out tonight at Y/f/n," You lied going upstairs to pack a bag for the night and find somewhere to sleep later.

(X)

You woke up the next morning to Jimin laying next to you, you moved away from him. How did he get into the hotel room you'd rented out for the night. You looked around the room and he was dressed in jeans and a shirt, he'd clearly not meant to fall asleep next to you. Deciding not to wake him up you went to have a shower, trying to wash off everything he'd said to you the night before, questioning everything you'd ever done with him. Were you controlling or was he just in a mood last night?

"You look like you're thinking too hard." Jimin's hoarse morning voice called out, you turned off the water and got out from the shower.

"Are you ignoring me now?" He asked as he followed you into the hotel room, you didn't want to ignore him but you had nothing to say to him,

"Why did you stay here and not at Y/f/n's place?" He questioned and you looked over at him, he was standing shirtless between the bathroom and hotel room,

"We're not on talking terms." You told him not wanting to go into the details right now with him so he just nodded,

"Do you want to come and join me in the shower?" You shook your head and he groaned, he knew he was going to have to say sorry for everything he'd said to you but he was hoping you would just know he was sorry.

"What I said was wrong I know, but you have to know I didn't mean it right? It's just me being an idiot." You watched him as he unbuttoned his jeans, you knew what he was trying to do and it was working, he was going to strip in front of you to distract you from being mad at him.

"Am I really controlling though? I don't mean to be, I just want to spend time with you." You whispered, he came over to you and tilted your head up to look at him.

"You're not controlling, you never have been and you never will be. I was just being a dick last night." You watched him as he kissed your nose and pulled you in the direction of the bathroom.

Taehyung:

Taehyung just wanted to come home and relax after a long day at the studio but he came into the apartment to find you blasting out music through the TV and typing away on your laptop, you were working on a final essay and music helped you a lot with it. Taehyung knew this so he just asked you to put earphones in,

"Sure, how was work?" You questioned as you continued typing up your essay and he ignored the question going to have a shower and to try and unwind a little. You knew what he was like after a rough day so you let him to his usual thing and continued writing away on your laptop with your earphones slid in so you wouldn't bother Taehyung after his shower.

Throughout the night Taehyung kept complaining to you about your typing, telling you it was too loud and he couldn't relax so you left the room, going up to the bedroom to stay out of his way. Normally if it wasn't important you would put it off but the essay was due soon and you had to finish it no matter what that night. Taehyung came up later and laid down on the bed, you'd gotten so lost in the words on the screen you'd forgotten he was there until he slammed the laptop shut cutting off the music you'd been listening to,

"You're so fucking annoying tonight. I just want to relax and you're just being so loud." You watched as he rolled over in the bed and faced away from you, you got off the bed and made your way down the stairs to the sofa instead.

(X)

Taehyung woke up in the middle of the night and rolled over when he noticed you weren't there he was confused and went on the hunt for you, finding you on the floor of the living room surrounded by bits of paper, the only thing illuminating your face was the light on your laptop and next to you was an instant hot pot that you'd cooked up for yourself but never ate. He shut the laptop after making sure your work was saved before he picked you up and started moving you the stairs to the bedroom,

"Tae?" You questioned as you woke up, he grunted as he laid you down on the mattress you wondered what he was doing as he covered you up with the covers and got back into the bed beside you.

"I can't sleep without you." You nodded and he tried to wrap his arms around you a natural sleeping stance for you both but he felt you tense up as he did and he remembered everything he'd said to you earlier in the night,

"I don't mean to be annoying Tae, I just really had to finish the assignment." He sighed as he heard you sniffle, he hadn't meant a single thing he'd said to you. He'd been having a rough day at work and he didn't want to come home to more typing sounds when that's all that Jimin had done in the studio with him.

"I didn't have to be so rude about it." He whispered to you, he felt you relax in his arms as he kissed the back of your neck and you smiled to yourself.

"I am really sorry about what I said." He told you as you rolled around to face him, your head laying on his chest as he played with your hair, you hummed and he began to tell you about his day. You weren't paying too much attention because you were tired from writing your essay but once Taehyung knew you were asleep he kissed the top of your head and closed his eyes so he could sleep as well.

Jungkook:

Another day, another rumour about Jungkook. Normally you were able to ignore them all, you and Jungkook were in love and no rumour about him cheating on you was going to change that but lately, he'd been getting distant with you and acting strangely whenever you were alone together. You'd tried to ignore it but it was getting to the point now where you couldn't simply ignore the way he was acting. He came home from a long day that night and he found you on the sofa with a book in your hands, he leant over the side of the sofa and gave you a quick kiss on the head, something he hadn't done in a long time,

"Whoa, the great Jungkook has blessed me with a kiss." You tried to joke but he didn't find it funny, in fact, it pissed him off so much that it started a fight between you both. You were both stood yelling at each other from across the room, things about him being away too much, not giving you enough attention and then he threw down that he was one of the main people that brought money for the household which you knew and he knew was the biggest lie. You worked a lot just like him except he got more pay since he was famous. You bent down to pick up the book you'd been reading to leave the room when the magazine that was underneath fell onto the floor and in front of you both, you stared down at the photoshopped image fo Jungkook and another pretty celebrity and then back up at him.

"I bet she'd get off my back about not seeing her if we were dating." He joked just like you had before except this one hurt more because you'd told him about how insecure you were about the woman in the magazine. She was perfect for Jungkook while you felt like someone he was ashamed to be around, you picked up the magazine from the floor and shoved it against his chest.

"Maybe you should phone her up then, I'm sure she'd love to put up with the rumours I do." You grumbled storming out of the living room and in the direction of the bedroom where you slammed and the locked the door to stop him from getting inside.

(X)

You woke up to the sound of a vase smashing and Jungkook groaning, you sat up in the bed and reached for the light switch. As soon as your eyes adjusted to the new light source you saw Jungkook sitting under the open bedroom window and staring at the broken flower vase.

"Kookie?" You questioned as you stared at him on the floor, he looked up and then at the broken glass.

"I'll buy a new one." He mumbled getting up from the floor and walking to the bedroom door to unlock it,

"You locked me out." He told you as if you didn't know that already, he made his way over to the bed and sat down beside you,

"It was supposed to keep you out." He laughed nervously as you stared at him and he sighed,

"I didn't mean it..." He told you as he sat back against the headboard taking you in his arms and dragging you back there with him.

"And you know the rumours are fake. I would never do anything, intentionally, to hurt you." He reminded you as you laid your head on his chest listening to him apologise to you, you hummed in response

"You've been so distance I just though-"

"I've been distant because I'm working on something for you, it was supposed to be a surprise but I guess it's not anymore." You stared at him and he sighed,

"I won't go into details but I promise we won't have to hide our relationship much longer." You smiled up at him softly and he kissed the top of your head,

"Let's go to sleep." He whispered to you, leaving the broken vase on the floor for tomorrow morning instead.

tagline: 

@yoongisdumplingcheeks​ @snowy-meowl​ @lynnthevirgo​ @yourguessisasgoodasminemate​ @kpopfanfictionhoes​ @btsiguess-kpop​ @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @callingmyangel​ @rjsmochii​

[xsugarysweetsx]

May I request a Fuegoleon x reader where they get into a huge fight and he snaps at her and she gives him the silent treatment but is forced to speak to him because they are sent on a mission together. (He of course set it up) and they make up and get all fluffy when the reader almost gets seriously injured but is protected by fuegoleon. Maybe implied smut ? >.< I really love your work

warning; Very slight implied smut if you squint

I’m so happy you like it! And thank you for not asking for full on smut! Please enjoy~🍰

*******************************************************

This is a bit longer than expected

I almost forgot Leo comes in like that with this gif😭

“Then why the hell am I even a part of your squad?“ you fire back to your boyfriend. “I know what I got into and you know what you got me into when you picked me! Then after all that you want to restrict me?”

After a dangerous dungeon mission that had put your life on the line, he had made some changes. He had you in a position where you can do missions that were within the kingdom or attending to simple tasks.

Of course, he knows you’re strong, but he can’t lose you. He loved you too much to see you risk your life like that. He was supposed to protect you, and that’s what he planned on doing.

“I have not prohibited you, simply limited where you are able to go what missions you are able to do“ how could he even keep a calm tone right now? 

“Then you’re limiting my abilities and what I can handle.“ you cross your arms “Aren’t we supposed to be a top squad where we all improve together?“

“Y/N, enough we have bigger things to worry about“ he turns for the door, you step in front of him 

“No, I want to talk about this now!”

“Y/N...“ 

“If you think I’m so weak then why am I even here?“

“Y/N-“ he warned further

“Why am I even with you if I’m not capable enough? Maybe you just want someone to entertain-“

“Y/N!“ he raises his voice a bit of fire arising from his palms “What I say is final! I will not have recklessness on my squad, nor a mage who acts before she thinks!“ wrong move...

Your face falls from one of alarm to disappointment. That’s when he realized his mistakes. He was always so composed and kept a leveled head, but not this time. You keep yourself composed as you brush past his and grab your broom.  

“Y/N wait please,“ he reached for you as you pass but you rush out the door without a word. You shut the door and leave down the hall for a ride. Fuegoleon pinched the bridge of his nose as he felt the weight of guilt on his shoulders. 

He shouldn’t have said that to you and now you were upset. He didn’t mean it that way, he just wants you safe. Great...another problem he needs to fix, and fast

-----

Leaving to the forest, you trained. You trained past your limit and even after your mana had dropped you pushed yourself more. You had kept going until you were completely drained, it’s a miracle you made it back.

Laying on the bed, you felt lonely. No arms to wrap around you and hold you close. No orange locks to play with, nor violet eyes to gaze into. You weren’t going to give into this so soon though. 

Just then the door opens and a familiar voice filled your ears. 

 “I brought you dinner..” you didn’t answer “.You don’t have to sleep here all alone...” part of him wanted to just carry you back to his bed, but his logical side knew that isn’t the way to go. He sighs setting down the plate and taking his leave.

That neither of you got any good sleep. You were cold and restless, reaching for someone who was never there. He held your pillow close to him, your scent soothing him, but not sufficient. He sat up in bed not daring to look at the empty space. An Idea had popped into his mind in an attempt to apologize and get you back.

------

“There’s been a disturbance at the volcano. Apparently some type of strange mana that almost comes to close second to my power almost” spoke Meroleona “I’m entrusting this mission to exclusively be for you to figure it out and hopefully have it dealt with. Understood?” she said sternly 

“It may be dangerous so make sure you watch each others blindsides” which was strange to hear from her. 

“Yes, ma’am” And you were off.

This is the only time you wouldn’t be upset or not speak to him. Going on missions isn’t something to joke about and you had to stay safe. You had made it outside when he had stopped you

“Here,“ he hands you a small gold charm “Just because we are in a hard place doesn’t mean I don’t care about you or us“ you both had this little thing. You would swap charms with each other before missions.

A way of saying that you’d come back to each other, if you wanted your charm back you had to stay alive. It was simple and little cheesy but, it was your thing and it meant a lot. 

You sigh and without a word give him your charm. He offered a ride on salamander but you put it down and simply used mana-skin. Making your way through the heated land you keep an eye open for any dangers. Whether it be creatures, mages or just the volcano itself.

As you walk through the area you had stepped on a hollow spot. The ground cracked and broke open sending you under the ground. You landed in what looked like a cave.

“Y/N! Are you okay?!” Fuegoleon came to where you fell through panicked

“I’m fine, just a little fall” you groan standing up and dusting yourself off. Looking around something caught your eye. Two glowing orbs could be seen into the dept of the cave. A low growl fills your ears as you feel your heart drop from your chest.

A large beast came out of its hole already having you on target. You ready your grimoier as your breath becomes shaky. The large animal circling around you as if trying to gin your weak spot. Without warning, it lunges at you but you dodge and attempt an attack.

Successfully you hit the beats but it only grew angry. It seemed to grow in mass and mana when enraged. Your fight or flight kicked in, and it was automatically flight. With a powerful swipe of it paw you has been sent flying into the air. You braced for impact of the floor but you never met. Instead you were in Fuegoleon’s arms. Salamander acting as a shield. You can feel his left hand squeeze you close.

He sends out a command and Salamnder carries it out. He lets his guard down slightly giving you his full attention

“Are you alright? Is anything broken?” his eyes searching for a sign of pain

“I-I’m okay....thank you” you bite your lip feeling yourself blush. “Fuegoleon I..”

“Please let me speak,” he cuts you off “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way nor have restricted you from your duty. You’re a fiery, strong intelligent woman and I’m fortunate enough to call you mine. Please forgive me” his large hands hold your giving them a squeeze in hopes of a yes.

“Oh...Fuegy...” you use his nickname “I forgive you but I’m also sorry. I overreacted when you just wanted to keep me safe.” You admit to your stubborness.

“It’s the only thing I want for you aside from happiness” he kissed your forehead “now come on, the springs are waiting for us” he pulled you along a path to lead to said springs.

“Springs? Did....did you plan this?” You ask with a giggle

“Well I needed some way to persuade you and I know you liked the soak from the last time” getting to the springs he lets go of your hand “and, it’s no one but us. We can have some alone time” he implies as he begins to strip

“Look at you, mr.sly” you tease as you do the same as him. Somehow you got in quicker than he did, the hot water soothing and relaxing your body. Fuegoleon enters after you pulling you close to him. He nudged your nose with his with a glistening look in his eyes

“My fiery queen” he mumbled before capturing your lips with his.

*******************************************************

I hope this was okay!❤️

[cescalr]

u kno how everyone has their own version of Reverse Falls?? well i have one of those lol but rn what im saying is: my version of the au where the pines twins swap places (grunkles for mystery,,,, u kno,,, i think its called Gravity Rises? Anti-Gravity??? I can’t remember damn) yeah i have little bits of dialogue written,,,, if only i could draw... anyway all under the read more:

[[the scene where Mabel cheats off of Dipper in class; prev the scene where Stan cheats off Ford. Flashback to convo;]]

Dipper: Look. All you need is decent grades in math, right? Just copy off me. 'S not like the teachers pay attention during exams, anyway.

Mabel: I dunno, Dipper...

Dipper: Come on. We need scolarships. Our parents can't afford two full rides to college.

Mabel: It feels kinda... fraud-y, though.

Dipper: Think about it this way, hey - those rich kids pay their way past exams to a full ride, this is no more unfair than that. Just levelling the playing field. They're cheating at life - you're just opening up opportunities.

Mabel: True...

Dipper: Anyway. Nobody gets left behind, right?

Mabel: Haha. Yeah. Who's to say I won't leave /you/ behind? [punches his arm, with a smile.]

Dipper: Hah. Very funny.

Mabel: Thanks, bro-bro. Awkward sibling hug?

Dipper: Awkward sibling hug.

[hug]

Both: Pat-pat.  

---

[[Big argument! Replaces the ford accuses Stan of breaking his machine. The conversation with the headmaster [uhhh, principal? in america?? i dunno im sorry] of the school is done w/ Dipper replacing Stan and Mabel replacing Ford bc I Like To Make Things Interesting!]]

Mabel: Come on, Dipper! I mean. Just - what kind of money is in /paranormal investigation/, anyway?

Dipper: What kind of money is in sculpting?

Mabel: That's not fair.

Dipper: Neither is you repeating our parents' talking points, but here we are. It's not about the money, Mabel.

Mabel: Well if it's not, then what's the point of you being on the opposite kind of the country to me?

Dipper: What's the point of you being on the opposite side of the country to /me/? Oh, that's right. You got a full ride anywhere you'd like, and there I am, trouble-maker, crazy-guy extraordinaire with the weird interests and stuipd belief in the supernatural. There was only one film school that'd take me, Mabel. You're the one who locked yourself into California.

Mabel: Why didn't you /tell/ me?

Dipper: I didn't think you'd want me around that much. What have I ever done, except pull down your stupid reputation?

Mabel: You can't still be on that. You know I don't-

Dipper: Still didn't say anything, though did you?

Mabel: That's not fair at all, Dipper.

Dipper: You never say anything. And here I am, always defending you. Maybe I felt we needed some space, huh? Maybe you give off the aura of wanting space. I'm not fun to be around.

Mabel: I didn't mean that. I just meant - you can get... kind of into a headspace I can't follow. I'm not - I don't believe in all your -

Dipper: Dumb conspiracies?

Mabel: Yes! Dipper, just - there's nothing down that road. You know that. You'll be -

Dipper: A laughingstock? Been there. Used to it.

Mabel: It doesn't have to be like that. You're really, really smart-

Dipper: So the only thing I can want to do is science?

Mabel: No, that's not it at all -

Dipper: He's a punk, he's headed nowhere, 'Mabel's a good girl, a real talent, smart and artistic... Dipper has the brain for a good life, but not the mindset. There's Fantartstic Academy, it's in California, so it's not too far from home, but it's on the other side of the state, a good distance away - I think it'd be good for your daughter to get independence, to find friends and a life outside of the trouble her brother brings. Mabel could have a real good go of it -'

Mabel: Stop it! Dipper, you know I don't believe-

Dipper: But you do! You always have!

Mabel: Just because you're /anxious/ doesn't mean you're right! We're okay! You're just paranoid!

Dipper: That's not fair.

Mabel: Oh, so now /I'm/ the unfair one? I get it. Things are only unfair when it affects /you/.

[pause]

Mabel: Why d'you have to do this?

Dipper: I - I have to prove that I'm right, Mabel. I have to. This stuff exists, I know it does, I've just got to find it.

Mabel: And, what? You're going to prove something people have been trying to figure out for centuries? Dipper. How can you tell me to get out of dreamworld when that's where you're staying?

Dipper: Screw you.

Mabel: Screw /you/.

---

As for other stuff;

Mabel makes the portal! It takes Dipper 30 years to activate it after she’s pushed in bc her instructions are Terrible. Partly because she didn’t understand much of it. Bill painted the whole thing as like, a monument of the arts or w/ever im still figuring that one out 

Dipper takes Grunkle Stan’s place as the person they’re sent to visit. He’s been pretending Mabel’s been in various foreign countries for years @ this point. Uses either magic/tech to create voicemails for the family, has her be bubbly but distant, w/ promises to visit that she never keeps, which. you know he feels bad about but he needs to make people think she’s alive

Dipper had a ghost hunting TV show! For like three years, then went off the air bc of low ratings. Apparently real ghosts scare people! And kill them. Who knew. Also everyone thought the special effects were bad. Whoops. Anyway he runs a tourist attraction out of Mabel’s old ‘nature living art lodge’. It makes a good haunted house during high traffic at halloween/Summerween. The entrance to the basement is in his office, which used to be one of Mabel’s art studios. Dipper took all the bill art down because he pays attention to warnings written in blood. 

Im swapping all ages here, so Dipper is good friends with Pacifica and Wendy. Gideon is ... a threat. Lee, Nate and Thompson are still in town. Tambry and Robbie are not. 

Soos is 8, Fiddleford is 13, Stan and Ford are 12. Etc. 

Because of how we’re swapping this, some people’s parents might have to become their children. I’m not a fan of that, but we’ll see. Filbrick Pines was the youngest sibling of Mabel and (Mason) Dipper. He’s not well liked by the family. And he doesn’t like his own family all that much, hence the distance between them. He likes his kids even less, though, so Gravity Falls they go! I hate that guy. 

Ma Pines may or may not come with them? Hmm.

[larrivex]

Homie u KNO I gotta ask u for the larrivex for those hcs

where they first met and how

i have no reasoning for this but i feel ghastly (with help from hopeless) first recruited larrikin who was STARSTRUCK but very good at hiding it. probably just in some random tent in the middle of ireland a few weeks after ravel was captured

how long their ‘flirting’ phase was before feelings got involved

OH MY GOD SOOOO LONG....... ok they met in 1850 they got together 40 YEARS LATER THEYRE IDIOTS. they both caught feelins pretty quick but larrikin dismissed his (he gets fleeting crushes often) and dexter did a terrible job of hiding his

who fell for who first ( if applicable )

hm.... i mean lbr larrikin saw him shirtless the first time and that cemented it in his mind they had to at least sleep together. then they had their longass song and dance through the centuries. i think larrikin fell for dex furst but def denied it for longer

where their first date was and what it was like

uh canon they. well they were a bit busy i dont think theyd have one? though tanith and saracen seem to count "lying amongst the carnage of battle" a date so i guess they did that a lot. larrikin lives au though it was probably some small beach along the countryside. they had a fun mountainclimb too! :D

who asks who out and how ( with a sign? spelled out on a cake? just a simple ‘will you go out with me’? )

I HAVE A FIC FOR THIS. NO SPOILERS (ok small spoiler: 1890s ball)

who proposes first

they dont, really? they dont need it. i like the idea of them having matching tattoos tho (not just bc i want dex to have tattoo. ok mostly bc of that)

if they keep / kept their relationship secret or let everyone know right away

they TRIED. but theyre too fucking giddy and more than a bit handsy and literally everyone knew as soon as they got back

if they adopt any pets together

i think if they ever settled down (unlikely, neither are homebirds) they may get a cat. or multiple cats. and some dogs. they both like animals :D

who’s more dominant

they switch :)

where their first kiss was and what it was like

THIS ONE IS IN THE FIC NO SPOILERS (BALLROOM DANCING)

if they have any matching couples stuff ( mugs? sweaters? pillowcases? )

OH MY GOD DO THEY...... they have sooooo fucking many. gag gifts from the dead men,actual sentimental things, little trinkets from souvenir shops

how into pda they are

oooh, depends. theyre not the handholdy sort but theyll sit closer together when theyre in a group, dance every opportunity, and random kisses when they feel safe

who holds the umbrella when it rains

thats assuming they even own an umbrella?? poor adepts are too used to having elemental friends

where their usual ‘date spot’ is ( if applicable )

anywhere and everywhere outside. beaches, mountains, forests... long walks in the middle of nowhere without stressing over being attacked at any moment are their favourite

who’s more protective

dexter. he watched larrikin almost die once, and its NOT happening again

how long it is before they sleep together ( can be as in ‘had sex’ or as in ‘shared a bed’ )

sharing a bed? pretty soon after they met (it gets cold in ireland at night!!! it was DEFINITELY just for warmth). tbh itd be pretty bad form to fuck when ur friends are light sleepers in the tent next to you idk maybe they got creative

if they argue about anything

after a few centuries you get most of the real arguments out of the way,but they probably have random spats about trivial shit randomly

who leaves more marks ( lipstick, hickeys, scratchmarks etc. )

anywhere people wouldnt normally see is free game. dex is probably more into it though

who steals whose clothes and how often

dexter would rip larrikins clothes idc how built lar is dexter is 6'2 and larrikin is 5'9 MAX. larrikin will appropriate dexters old tshirts into sleepwear most of the time

how they cuddle ( spooning? facing each other? )

both of them in the weirdest position possible and taking up the most space, yet somehow still holding on go each other :3

what their favourite nonsexual activity is

physical? just lying in bed together. just in general? again, adventuring or going on some hike, or just hanging out with friends

how long they stay mad at each other

the longest was almost a decade (they can both be stubborn) but usually no longer than a week

what their usual coffee / tea orders are

black, but they both like to add sugar. theyre just used to going without

if they ever have any children together

definitely not

if they have any special pet names for each other

their favourite game is coming up with the dumbest terms of endearment. i think they would be overjoyed at "my beloved" becoming a popular phrase

if they ever split up and / or get back together

never officially, but theyve definitely had time apart

what their shared living space is like ( messy? clean? what kind of decor? )

somehow a mix of military neatness and frat house

what their first christmas / hanukkah / etc as a couple was like

considering it was the middle of a war, just chilling around a campfire with the rest of the dead men. they took care to place their tent much further away than usual ;)

what their names are in each other’s phones

in line with their petname game, they change pretty often. sonetimes the others will steal their phones to make them normal, after some badguy or another saw dexter hang up a call from "beloved wife" (changed by saracen actually, from something a LOT dirtier) and suddenly rumours were spreading of dexter vex having a secret mortal wife

if they have any ‘couple traditions’ ( buying a new mug for their collection every year? baking every friday evening? )

adventuring!! all the time. but they have special places to go on their "birthdays"

who falls asleep first and who wakes up first

larrikin for both. hes a light sleeper but god can he just drop on the spot

who’s the big spoon / little spoon

they swap!!!!

who hogs the bathroom

...am i allowed to say they uh. both do ;)

who kills the spiders / takes them outside

either. but dexter prefers to put them outside and larrikibs is taking after him

[joezworld]

Fools in Love (3/10)

Worst Thieves Ever

The next week passed in a blur of emotions and happiness for both engines.

Henry was astonished that he'd managed to miss all of the now-obvious signs that he was romantically attracted to Bear, and was now fully in the throes of "happy sickness", and genuinely felt better when Bear was nearby.

Bear, meanwhile, was on top of the world. Acknowledging that he was now actually in love meant that all of the pent-up emotions from the past decade were coming out all at once. He was downright chipper when he was alone, and when Henry was nearby, he was so absurdly upbeat that the other engines were wondering if The Fat Controller had bought another Hymek and swapped the numbers again!

“So,” Bear asked Henry as they sat in the yard between trains. “What do we do, now that we’re together?”

“I don’t know,” Henry said thoughtfully. “I know that humans go on things called ‘dates’, where they go to dinner and then the cinema, but I don’t think we can do that...”

“We certainly wouldn’t fit into the building.”

“And I don’t think we could eat dinner without bothering our crews.”

“Unless you want to pull a Thomas and crash through the restaurant wall.”

“Hah! We could always save that for the holidays.”

-

“Henry’s getting awful chummy with the Hymek, isn’t he?” James muttered suspiciously from the coaling stage.  

“Goodness gracious me,” Duck said. “It’s almost like he’s known Bear for an extended period of time. What is it that happens when you spend a long time near somebody? I think you become friends with them.”

“You know what I mean. It’s like they’re different locomotives.”

“Perhaps their personalities contain more than one side. I hear that some engines can achieve that.”

“And what are you implying by that??”

“Your paint is dirty.”

“AAACK! Someone get a rag and some polish!”

-

46 040 smiled to herself as she watched the steam engines bicker. This was a funny little island, with so much more character than the Midlands.

Engines were nicer here, and they welcomed her as a friend on the first day she arrived - even if it had taken some time for their in-joke to be explained to her - she couldn’t believe that she’d rescued Spamcan’s rescuers. There was no in-fighting, no yard politics, just close-knit friends, even across class lines.

They also didn’t seem to give any mind to ‘how the railway should work’, as some of her classmates might say. As she backed down onto her train, she was acutely aware that the only engine newer than her was the laughing diesel-hydraulic in the yard. Everywhere else she looked, there was nothing but steam, steam, and more well-kept steam.

Modernization seems to have missed this island altogether. She thought as passengers bustled into the coaches. Even the rolling stock was antique - a bunch of ‘Big 4′ era corridor coaches, all nicely painted into a unified livery. On the mainland, the Mark 1s had displaced these old carriages from even maintenance trains, but Sodor was using them on top link services.

“Eurgh. Can you believe this, 40?” Oiled an unpleasant voice from alongside her.

She glared at the Class 56, annoyed by both his existence and his sudden appearance. From what she understood, the North Western Region often borrowed engines from other regions temporarily, which explained why she was still on the island and why the destable 56 was sullying this otherwise pleasant station. “What can I believe, 031?”

“This!” The diesel sniffed dismissively as 040 rolled her eyes. He had evidently decided that anything new to him was bad - a problem considering that he was barely two months old. “All of this outdated junk!  I feel like I’ve been driven into a black-and-white film! Steam engines here, teak coaches there! I don’t think these vans are even fitted with brakes!” He looked back at his train - a line of surly looking vans glared back, clearly insulted. The brakevan on the rear seemed to be resigned to a difficult run before the train left the station. “I am immeasurably pleased that this is my last train on this island.”

“I think it’s charming.” 040 said quietly.

“You would.” 031′s tone was cold.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you’d fit in here - you’re non-standard, just like they are.”

040 wanted to say something that would turn the air as blue as her paintwork, but before she could do so, a whistle blew, and 031′s driver began to drive the rude engine out of the station. “I don’t believe we shall meet again - your class’ time is coming sooner than you think.” 031 said with startling levels of nonchalance as he rumbled out of the station, his vans angrily trailing behind him.

“And good riddance to you too, you slag sucking shitstain.” 040 muttered to herself as the train rattled out of sight.

Shortly, her own guard blew his whistle, and she set off with the midday express.

-

Crovan's Gate Works - That night

"I didn’t think we'd be back here so soon." Henry whispered to Bear as they rolled into the Works yard.

"I didn’t either." Bear said, trying to disturb the rest of their train.

It was well past midnight, and both breakdown cranes, the support coach, and the battered Class 46 had nodded off on the slow ride from the accident site.

"Is she all right?" Henry asked quietly. He was leading the train, and couldn’t see.

"As well as she can be." Considering that the lightweight parcel vans had been reduced to so much kindling by the accident, it was amazing that the 46 was as uninjured as she was - just a few torn and warped panels, some gravel abrasions, and a broken nose.

If Bear was being honest, he thought that she'd gotten off better than the 56, who was physically intact, but had been subjected to one of the longest and angriest dressing-downs that The Fat Controller had ever given.

The poor engine had looked utterly shell-shocked as he took what remained of his train on to Barrow.

The two were silent as they pushed the sleeping 46 into the works proper, and then backed the breakdown train into its siding. Their crews were dead on their feet after eight hours plus overtime, and shuffled off to the works' bunkhouse for some well needed rest.

Henry and Bear watched them leave, not even remotely tired. Since their mutual revelation last week, neither engine had been able to sleep for very long, their minds spinning with thoughts of each other.

Even after a week, they had run out of all possible conversation, but could still spend hours without a word between them.

"D'ya think that this counts as a date?" Bear said after many minutes of comfortable silence.

"I think an argument could be made." Henry said thoughtfully. "We did something together, but from what I understand, usually there's supposed to be 'romance', and 'courting', not smashed vans and breakdown cranes. Also, I assume that, on a date, we should be enjoying ourselves and not wondering if someone is hurt."

Bear considered that for a long moment. It had been a pretty terrible date, considering they were clearing up a train crash. "Do you want me to court you?"

"I think that's supposed to happen before you fall in love, and I already have."

"Oh. Then what do we do if we're already..."

"Madly in love with each other?"

"Yes."

"I don't know."

"Well," Bear said finally. "Then we'll have to figure that out together."

------

Three Days Later

Henry didn’t see the 46 after he and Bear left in the morning - the massive service disruption caused by the accident meant that he spent most of the weekend shuttling ballast wagons back and forth between Cronk and Arlesburgh, as well as soothing Gordon’s temper over having to ‘dilly-dally in work zones all day’.

Fortunately, there wasn’t a great deal of damage on the main line, and after three days of frantic work, the maintenance of way crews had put everything back to normal. Henry was the first train through the rebuilt section with a massively-delayed Flying Kipper, and was surprised at how much damage the men had managed to reverse - the only remaining signs of the accident was the torn up lineside vegetation.

 Arriving at Barrow, he found the yard in disarray - three days worth of goods trains were clogging the small yard, and the diesel shunter was so overworked that he forgot to be rude to Henry as he took away the fish vans.   

The yard was so crowded that Henry couldn’t even get into the sheds to rest before his next train, and was forced to sit in the middle of the yard while his crew went for their tea break. 

He wanted to get some rest as well, but the shunter was moving around the yard at such a rate that it was impossible to get more than a few minutes of rest before the Class 03 scuttled by with more vans.  

After one large rake of hoppers were shoved out of the way, another engine became visible a few roads over - it was the 46. 

Henry was surprised to see her - there hadn’t been enough time to fix any of her panels in the last three days, and indeed, she was just as battered and bruised as she was when he and Bear left her in the works. The only indication that anyone had done anything at all to her was the existence of a splint that had been taped over her broken nose to re-set it. 

More worryingly, she looked almost haunted. Her eyes were wide, with a thousand yard stare, and she was mumbling something to herself over and over again. 

“they don’t want me they don’t want me they don’t want me they don’t want me”

Henry wanted to ask her what was wrong, but before he could, a shout arose from deeper into the yard. The shunter had split a switch with some wagons and was now trapped in a dead-end siding. Men began rushing out with tools to re-rail the cars, but it was obvious that it would take some time. The yard master, seeing this incident, didn’t go over to the shunter, but instead made a beeline for Henry, his crew trailing behind. 

“If he’s done for, then we need someone to organize this mess!” The man called, clearly not giving Henry a choice in the matter. “And you’re it!”

---

After 35 minutes of careful shunting, Henry was on his final shunting move before he could enter the sheds and rest, while the men seemed to be turning the corner on freeing the 03.

“Right, then there’s this Peak!” Called the yardmaster, who was riding on Henry’s footplate with a sheet of train orders in his hand. “It’s the 0Z59 for tonight, just put it somewhere out of the way.”

He scanned the yard. “Track 33 looks clear. let’s leave it there and be done.”

“Zero-Zed?” Henry asked. “You’re not going to move her, are you?” A zero headcode was intended for light engine moves, while a Z prefix meant that the train was to be handled specially by the dispatcher. The 46 was battered enough to require special treatment, but her unrepaired condition meant that she should not be moving under her own power. 

“Nah, they’re gonna send an engine for ‘er later,” The yardmaster replied. “She’s going right to Derby.”

Henry sighed as he buffered up to the still-catatonic diesel. Sometimes life was easier if you didn’t ask questions. 

“they don’t want me they don’t want me they don’t want me they don’t want me”  The diesel said, her voice thick with horror. Her eyes looked at Henry’s face but saw nothing. It was obvious that she was off in her own little nightmarish world.

Then again, Henry had never had an “easy” life.

“What are they going to do to her at Derby?” He asked slowly, afraid of the answer he’d be given. 

After flipping through his papers, the yard master gave a one word answer: “Scrap”

Henry stared morosely at the 46. She didn’t deserve this at all. 

It took only a few minutes to move the 46 to an isolated siding near the sheds. As his driver uncoupled her from him, the 46 abruptly jerked out of her trance. She looked at Henry and his driver, her eyes suddenly clear and full of understanding.

“Save me. Please.” She said quietly. “They’re going to kill me.”

Henry was struck dumb by her request. The 46 had put more emotion in one sentence than some locomotives did in their entire lives. He wasn’t the quickest of thinkers to begin with, and now he had no idea of what to even say, let alone how he could help. 

Fortunately, Sean - his driver - was much faster on the uptake. “Do you still work?” He asked her conspiratorially. 

Both engines looked down at him. “Yes.” The 46 said after a moment. “They tested my motor and it works fine but they still said I wasn’t good enough to fix and oh god I’m going to die...” She trailed off in horror. 

Sean turned an interesting shade of pale as he set the diesel’s handbrake. “We’ll do something. Just you wait.” 

With that, he clambered back into Henry’s cab and set off for the sheds. 

“We have to do something and I have no idea how we’re going to do it.” He said as soon as they were out of earshot of the diesel. 

So concerned was Henry that he barely noticed Bear sitting in the shed as he pulled in. 

“Is everything all right?” Bear asked as he saw the look on Henry’s face.

“They’re going to kill that 46.” Henry said without prompting. “She’s barely damaged and they’re going to take her to Derby and cut her up.”

��Right.” said Bear, looking like he just took a sack of bricks to the face. “Let’s figure out how we’re going to fix that.”

-------------

The harried yardmaster burst into the sheds. “Alright, up you get! The Hymek’s failed and we need you to drag his sorry carcass to the works!” 

Henry, who had been pretending to be sleeping, set off at once.

Entering the yard proper, he found Bear at the head end of a train of cement tankers.

"Ah! Henry!" Bear called out in the least convincing voice anyone had ever heard. "As you can see, my complicated and unreliable gearbox has failed, rendering me immobile. Can you please pull me to the works?"

"Of course Bear!" Henry said in the same way that one would discuss the weather. "I will tow you to the works so they can fix your complicated and unreliable gearbox!"

The yardmaster watched in confusion as Henry backed down onto Bear's train. It was obvious that they were planning something, but what? This was about on par for a steam engine's level of deception, but diesels were usually craftier than this.

After a few minutes, Henry set off - or rather, he didn’t.

As he set off, his wheels slipped suddenly, his driver immediately closed the regulator, and both engines disappeared into a cloud of steam as Henry wheeshed in faux pain.

"Oh dear! He called from within the cloud. "I seem to have suffered a mechanical malfunction of some kind! Whatever will I do?"

"Who gives a toss about you!" Wailed the Class 03. "What about my work? You just blocked off half the yard!"

It was true - Bear had failed just before the switch to the main line, and when Henry had backed down onto him, he had completely covered the points. Now that he had failed as well, a large portion of the yard was inaccessible.

"I am terribly sorry." Henry didn't sound like he meant it. "Another engine will have to move us, as we cannot possibly move ourselves."

To his credit, the Class 03 tried, but with Henry and Bear's combined weight (and Henry holding the brakes on when nobody was looking), his little wheels just slipped on the tracks. "Super Rescue my buffers!" He scowled as the yard master started pulling his hair out. The yard was in a worse state than before, and there were no other engines that could reach the failed train.

Unless...

"Does that 46 work? The man yelled at his underlings, in the process missing the elated looks that flashed across Henry and Bear's faces.

"I think so!" Said one of the men. "They drove it here last night."

"Right!" He said with no small amount of relief. "Get that thing going - it'll be Crovan's problem and they can deal with it."

It took a few minutes for a crew to be found and for the 46 to be started, but soon enough she was being backed down onto the increasingly long train.

Henry and his crew watched with anticipation. Instead of damping his fire, Tim the fireman had been shoveling more and more coal into Henry’s firebox, while Sean had been nonchalantly walking around both engines and putting large amounts of sand under each driving wheel. As 46 040 was backed down onto the train, he gave a signal to Bear and his crew before climbing back into Henry’s cab.

The yard crew quickly coupled 040 to Henry, and waved to the signalman, who lined the points and dropped the signal arm.

The arm dropped. Henry and Bear's eyes followed it as it fell into the 'clear' position.

"Now!" Henry bellowed, and Bedlam ensued.

Sean hauled back on Henry’s whistle cord while shoving the throttle into the wide open position, sending sparks into the air as Henry’s wheels spun on the rails for a moment.

At Henry’s whistle, Bear's driver shoved the diesel's throttle to its furthest stop.

Black smoke belched out of both engines as they surged ahead. Henry slammed into the back of 040, shoving her along as his wheels found purchase on the sand covered rails.

Bear, his engine roaring, lurched ahead as he followed Henry, taking the tankers with him. The cement wagons yelled as the slack in their couplings was let out all at once, banging against each other as they were yanked into motion. A ripple of shock whipped all the way down the train, and the coupling in the last tanker was almost ripped out of its buffer beam from the violent departure.

040's crew were shoved forward in their seats by the sudden impact. Her driver had the throttle lever in his hand, and as he flew forward against the control column, he inadvertently shoved her throttle ahead to its furthest stop. The diesel shrieked in surprise as her motor revved to full power and she surged ahead with the rest of the train. 040 was a powerful express diesel, and she quickly began to pull the rest of the train along behind her as her engine reached its highest power setting.

"Go go go!" Henry yelled as the train accelerated away.

The yardmaster and the Class 03 watched in shock as the train thundered out of the yard. In just moments, it had cleared the yard boundary, and in just a few moments more, the last cement tanker was rattling over the lift bridge and onto Sudrian metals.

"What was that?!" The man said as Henry's triumphant whistle faded into the distance.

"More Sodor shite, I'd imagine." Said the little diesel as he rolled back into the yard - as much as he wanted to, he didn’t have time to speculate on what went on in the smokeboxes of those nutcases. "They're always up to some bollocks or another."

-----------

Henry and Bear yelled in triumph as they raced though Vicarstown and into Sodor proper.

"We did it!" Bear shouted.

"We did!" Henry chimed in. "You see that, 46?" He called up to 040. "That’s Sodor! You're safe!"

040 was astonished to the point of tears. "Thank you!" She said, her voice choked with emotion.

--------

Crovan’s Gate

Charles Hatt stared at the trio of unapologetic engines in front of him, unsure of whether he should be proud or upset. 

“If I told you three that you damaged several of those cement tankers, the yard switches in Barrow, and exceeded the legal speed limit for a train of that configuration, would you be sorry in the slightest?” 

“No sir / I’d do it again / Not at all” came the responses from Henry, Bear, and 040.

The Fat Controller hung his head in his hands. They didn’t even have the good graces to look sorry. The Peak was beaming from buffer to buffer, Bear looked sheepish but unconcerned, and Henry looked positively defiant. 

“And you did this...?” He trailed off.

“Because otherwise they were going to kill her.” Henry said with a surprising undercurrent of steel to his voice. 

“Yes. That...” Charles said again. “They truly told you that you were to be cut up?” He asked 040, slowly. 

“Yes sir.”

“They did sir. There were train orders for it.” Bear said quickly. “She was supposed to be the 0Z59.”

“I see...” He turned to the 46 directly. “Who told you this?”

“Mister Stevens. He came down from the Midlands region to inspect me.”

“I see...” Charles mulled this over. He was vaguely aware of the nasty rumours surrounding the supposed railwaymen that the Midland Region was now employing, and this 'Mister Stevens' seemed like he fit the bill perfectly. “And you two did this... to help out your fellow engine?”

“Yes sir” Henry and Bear said in unison. 

One hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

On one hand, these two had just damaged a significant amount of railway property and stolen an engine from a different region.

On the other... he did have a motive power shortage, and 46 040 was a class 4 - exactly what he needed. 

And she clearly wasn’t needed by her region any more. 

And stealing engines from the scrap heap was practically a Sodor tradition by now. 

And he had acquired Bear in an almost equally brazen manner. 

Sir Charles Topham Hatt II was many things, but a hypocrite was not one of them. “I must make a phone call. Talk amongst yourselves.”

The engines watched as he retreated to the foreman’s office. The phone was mounted on the outer wall, and his end of the conversation was very audible. 

“This is Hatt, get me the London Midland Region please.”

“Yes, can you please inform Director Macready that Charles Hatt needs to speak with him regar- oh hello Lachlan.”

“Why yes, this is about 46 040.”

“I will have you know that we did not ‘brazenly make off with your property.’”

“To begin with, she was needed because the engines pulling the train ha- yes I understand that they didn’t actually fail, but-”

“Now there’s no need for that tone of voice-”

“Lachlan - Lachlan - Damnit Lachlan! That engine has only minor damage to it! You -”

“You clearly do not  need it if - Spares? Lachlan, you just said that they were ‘going to the chop soon enough’, what could you possibly need spares for?”

“Now that’s just inappropriate.”

Whatever was said next was obviously deeply impolite, as the Fat Controller lost all patience with the Director of the Midland Region. “Now you listen here you limp-wristed disgrace of a Scotsman. That locomotive is mine now and will be forever more,  you understand? If you ever try to come down from the ivory tower that has lodged itself in your rear end and do something about it, I will personally beat you to death with an Adze! Am I understood!”

After a brief silence, he spoke again. “I expect the transfer to be sent over at once. If they aren’t, I will forge your signature myself and I won’t stop with just those papers. Goodbye Lachlan.”

With that he hung up the phone and turned around to face the trio, who could barely contain themselves, and most of the works’ staff, who were surprised to see their controller use such harsh language. 

“Don’t just stand there!” He said after a long moment. “Get to work! We have a new engine to repair!” 

The noise from the locomotives was deafening. 

[eury--dice]

glitter and tree branches

happy (belated) holidehs, @singtomeinstead​! thank you so much for your wonderful prompts and your even more wonderful dedication to this beautiful @sincerely-us gift exchange. hope your 2021 is off to a good start <3

(ao3 link in the notes!)

It all starts in Ellison Park.

Maybe that is the one thing, across any universe, that stays the same - that cannot change. No matter how you slice their story, it all starts in Ellison Park. Whether that beginning is a fall from a tree, a single form illuminated against the endless expanse of pink morning sky, or -

This.

It all starts in Ellison Park, 2006, when four families tangentially decide a trip to the park is the perfect spring activity, bundle up their five-year-olds and head off.

The Murphy’s arrive early. Larry guides the car over gravel until stopping, Connor and Zoe’s cheers from the backseat audible to everyone outside. Larry and Cynthia share a tight grin over their excitement, eyes pulled taut from lack of sleep.

“Ice cream!” Zoe shouts, eyes catching on the closed Dell’s lemonade cart just outside the gate. Connor is already chanting “le-mon-ade,” albeit much quieter than his sister. Cynthia raises a hand to massage over her eyes.

“It’s 11 am,” Larry points out. “No ice cream yet, sweetheart.”

“No!” They wail in perfect synchrony, only to promptly forget about sweets as soon as they’re unbuckled from the car and tearing off to the park. Cynthia sighs, gesturing for Larry to follow them while she gets what they need for the day.

Six-year-old Evan Hansen is decidedly a morning person. He has been a morning person since the day of his birth, and he will be one for the rest of his life. So while kids his age nod off against their parent’s shoulders on park benches and in their booster seats, he presses his nose against the window of the car and lets his breath fog it up even though he knows his father will scold him for the messiness later. As soon as they step into the park Evan’s vision tunnels into everything around him, sheer joy taking over as he pulls his hand from his mother’s and takes off towards the nearest tree.

“Evan!” she yelps, momentarily distracted from her argument with Mark. Since Evan normally never darts away from her, she’s caught off guard by his sudden energy, her heart rate skyrocketing with Mark’s words intangible in her ears. But Evan pays her no heed; he just runs, his parent’s arguing fading into the background for the first time he can remember. He stops at one of the trees, laying a palm against it and closing his eyes. Through his fingertips, it’s like he is rooted to the ground; like he himself is steady, consistent, and ready to provide comfort.

Heidi stops in her tracks once she can see that he’s safe, turning to Mark with an “are you seeing this?” expression, but he staunchly refuses to return her gaze.

Jared Kleinman is distinctly not a morning person, much to his friend’s dismay. Their parents always joked about it when they were little more than babies sharing naps in the Kleinman’s living room; Evan fussing at the first sign of light while Jared took more than a fair bit of commotion to so much as stir. So the Kleinman’s amble into the park a little after the Hansen’s, a still sleepy Jared leaning between his moms like a tiny labored soldier. He perks up on hearing Heidi’s voice, attuned to trouble as always, but his mom tightens her grip on his shoulder before he can run forward.

“Plenty of time for that,” she said in an undertone. “I don’t want you bonking your head because you’re sleepy.”

“I won’t,” Jared insists, offended at the mere notion he could mess something up.

His mother studies his eyes for a moment before relenting. “All right. Go see your friend.”

Jared takes off at once, a direct beeline to Evan - so direct that he doesn’t see the child-shaped obstacle in his path, immediately bonking heads and falling back onto his butt on the pavement, two glasses clattering noises filling his ears. “Oh my god,” he hears his other mom groan.

“You should be more careful,” a voice says, little-kid saccharine but mature beyond its years. “You’re Jared, right?”

“Alana! Are you okay?” a man calls at the same time Jared’s mom calls, “I told you!”

Jared hadn’t expected to see Alana Beck from his kindergarten class there, but he did all the same.

“Are you okay?” She says before he can respond. “My head hurts a bit. Does yours?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jared says. “A bit.” He reaches blindly for the first pair of glasses he can vaguely see, but when he puts them on his vision explodes and contorts.

“Are these yours?” they say at the same time, so Jared guesses she must have picked up his. They swap, and Jared frowns at a long scratch in his right lense before putting them back on.

“That’s why you need to look where you’re going,” Alana says, noting his frown. “My grandma says people get hurt when they’re not aware of their surroundings.”

“I guess.” Jared feels a little stunned into silence, even as their parents come over to check them. But finally, he manages to say “Do you want to come play with me and Evan?”

Alana scrunches up her nose, her glasses following. “Evan Hansen?”

“Yeah.”

She thinks on it for a moment, then throws a look to someone who must be her younger sister. “Okay,” she says, and that’s that.

The three unite by Evan’s tree, though Evan is a squirrel so he climbs nearly all the way up while Jared and Alana watch. Alana talks enough for all three of them, jabbering on about her family and what she misses from school now that they’re older, and that seems to ease Evan’s discomfort around a new person. He’s content to climb while they carry the conversation.

All three of their heads turn at the sound of a sudden splash followed by the shouts of two dismayed children. Jared laughs reflexively at the sight of horror on their nearly-identical faces, freckles elongated with their widening mouths. Evan drops down nimbly from the tree almost at once.

“Dad!” the boy calls, hands flying to his short curls to tug, and after a moment they recognize him as another classmate - Connor Murphy, in a different section, known to dominate the monkey bars at recess. “Why’d you throw it in the lake?”

“Emergency landing,” a man with graying hair replies, a little ways off from where Evan’s parents had settled. “Sorry, Con.”

While a few of their parents chuckle, neither of the kids appears sated; in fact, both look close to tears. The three by the tree exchange a look.

“Should we?” Alana says, and Evan nods, Jared already setting off towards the lake.

“What was it?” he asks loudly, once they near the two who lean over the surface of the lake longingly.

Zoe, who he only knew through Connor’s sharing time about his family, shot him a watery glare. “A airplane,” she bites out.

“An airplane,” Alana corrects, though she quiets when she’s on the receiving end of Zoe’s glare.

“We don’t have an airplane,” Evan says, looking between Alana and Jared for confirmation. “But, um…you can play with us?”

The two stare at each other for a beat, still working back tears, before they sigh.

“Not even one airplane?” Connor asks.

“Not even one.”

“My sister might have one,” Alana puts in. “I can ask?”

Connor eyes them warily for a beat before sighing again. “Fine. Zoe?”

“I guess so,” she says, voice small.

Friends acquired…apparently.

***

Most of the time, Zoe wishes she and Connor are real twins.

They feel enough like it - given that they almost always just played with each other - and even looked enough like it, if random people in the supermarket’s judgment could be trusted. People sometimes said they were Irish twins, which Zoe never quite understood, even after Cynthia sat her on the couch and explained the concept to her. Being Irish twins is fine and all, even though only their dad was even a little Irish (thanks, Murphy surname). But it isn’t as good as being a real twin, sharing the birthday she so desperately wants, sharing the grade above her own.

Instead, she’s stuck, out of the loop and behind. Alana comes over in the lunchroom on the days where she can, seemingly only willing to break the rules that keep her separated from everyone else due to grade. Zoe gets quite used to the sight of Alana beelining across the cafeteria, her star-patterned lunchbox unzipped and held to her chest as she weaves around students and faculty alike with a grace that Zoe assumes comes from dance. And she gets used to Alana parking herself right across from her, unzipping a small ziplock bag of baby carrots around the surprised looks of elementary school underclassmen, and saying something along the lines of “did Mrs. Gould teach you about magnets today?” And Zoe takes the offered baby carrot, puts away the felt-tip pen she’s been doodling with, and smiles.

She drags the other three over one day, though Connor’s lips set in annoyance over having to babysit his little sister and Evan’s set in something that looks closer to anxiety, casting anxious glances over to the faculty presiding over the lunchroom. Jared simply throws her an amused smile, squeezing between her and her friend from class and cutting Zoe off with a loud “Howdy!” before she can apologize for his behavior. Evan takes the unoccupied space on her right, his fingers messing with the clasp of his lunchbox. His eyes jump across the faculty members even as Alana and Connor sit across from her. She’s so used to seeing both of them across from her that it takes a moment for her to remember how different they usually are. Alana only ever looks like this, separated by a grainy plastic table and fluorescent lights, but normally she sees Connor under their warm kitchen lights and the honey-colored wood of their kitchen table.

“You don’t have to come over here,” she says quietly, words muffled into the collar of her sweater.

Alana just smiles and launches their normal lunch routine, this time with the added chatter from Connor and Jared, before Evan’s face shifts and Zoe lifts her eyes to see a faculty member appear just behind Alana.

“Aren’t you all at the wrong table?” They say, and the five scatter as quickly as they can, hoping to avoid docked recess as punishment. On the playground, Evan bites the corner of his nail nervously and Connor refuses to look in Zoe’s direction, staring instead towards the faculty hovering by the fences.

So much for trying to spend time together.

Out of school, though - out of school is equal for everyone, regardless of grade. No time to share, no privacy for their conversations, no good locations for their games.

“We should have a secret hiding spot,” Alana declares later that same day. Even from her position hunched under the bunk bed she shares with her younger sister, her voice carries such a sure tone that no one could even disagree.

“Should we all join you?” Jared quips. Connor responds by smacking him lightly on the shoulder.

“Not in my house,” Alana says, and for some reason, Zoe expects an eye roll or something of the sort, but she’s Alana so of course there’s only confidence and surety. “Do you really want my dads hearing everything?”

“We don’t have secrets,” Evan points out from his spot on the floor between Jared and Zoe. His sleeve brushes against Zoe’s when he fidgets, his hands moving his shoulders.

“We could,” Jared says. “How else are we going to steal all the Jell-O from the cafeteria?”

“I think you’re the only person who actually likes that Jell-o,” Zoe says, before immediately regretting it. The words slip through her teeth, liketh thad dell-o, rounded and off compared to all of her friends. Evan’s arm brushes against hers again.

“Of all the criminal plots, Jared,” Connor agrees.

“It’s gross,” Evan adds in an undertone, and Zoe is pretty sure she’s the only one who can hear it.

“But it would be a secret!”

“We’re not going to do that,” Alana says; words getting caught in a sigh. “But wouldn’t it be nice to talk without-”

As if on queue, her younger sister bursts into the room, catapulting herself onto the top bunk with a frightening speed. Evan falls into Jared as she hurtles over them, and Connor jumps practically a foot in the air.

With a comical precision, almost like something actually out of a comic in the paper that Larry loved to hand them on Sunday’s so they could “learn to read a newspaper,” they turn to look at Alana.

“Like I said,” she says, assuming her teacher voice.

“…Well, where?” Jared finally replies. “Our houses don’t work too well.”

“Outside?” Evan suggests hopefully. “Maybe the park?”

“It’s too cold, and our parents can’t always drive us there,” Alana says. “But maybe…hm…

At once, Connor and Zoe’s heads swivel towards each other.

“We have a place,” Connor says slowly, reading understanding on Zoe’s face. “Or…we will.”

Larry has passions that ebb and flow just like Cynthia, and for once Zoe is certain she and her brother are thinking of the same thing; the influx of wood he’d been purchasing recently, the power tools they heard whenever he was off work, the constant questions over whether they wanted to help.

A week later, the five stand in the Murphy’s backyard. Cynthia and Larry observe at a distance, their faces careful as they watch the kid’s reactions but obvious joy in the lines of Larry’s tiny smile.

“Oh my God,” Jared breathes. “Is it real?”

“No, dummy,” Connor says, voice filled with a pompousness that Zoe hates. “We bought a treehouse decal and spent all night getting it up there just to play tricks on you.”

“Don’t be mean, Connor,” Zoe says with the snobbiness she knows he hates. He sticks his tongue out at her in return.

Evan steps forward first, laying his palm against the tree trunk and staring up with a reverence Zoe never expected. He smiles gently, the light brushing his cheeks like burnished bronze, and Zoe looks away with a smile similar to her father’s.

“Well, let’s go,” Connor says, and Evan must take his words as invitation, because he forgoes the ladder and chooses instead to scale the tree limbs until worming his way in through the “window” of the treehouse. Zoe heard something like a fond laugh behind her, most likely her mother’s doing, before she raced off to the tree herself. She did opt for the ladder, however. Connor follows Evan’s dramatics, and Alana and Jared are close on Zoe’s heels.

“Woah,” she hears Alana breathe, and, well. Woah was right.

The treehouse isn’t very large, but to a bunch of elementary students it certainly feels like it. The smell of fresh pine assaults her nose, dust still floating around and tickling her eyelashes. The late fall light streams in through the slats and windows, leaving a gold-washed tint around the treehouse and all of her friends.

Connor wanders over to a small platform, and she follows, letting her other friends scatter about the room, chattering idly about the treehouse. Zoe leans her head on Connor’s shoulder, but just as she does Connor nudges Zoe with his elbow. Uncaring to her yelp, he asks “Do you have the thread in your room?”

“Thread?” She repeats, as it takes her brain a moment to catch up. “Ohh. Yeah. I think so.”

“Want to go grab it?”

“Why?”

He motions to his wrist and then to the group as a whole.

“Whyyyy me?” She says, the y drawing out into a whine in a true younger sibling move.

All the same, she’s on her way back up the treehouse with a tub of bracelet thread tucked under her arm five minutes later. Maneuvering up the ladder with it tucked under her arm proved to be a bit of a challenge, but nothing Zoe Murphy can’t handle. She does throw it through the window before her, though, which (by Connor’s horrified yelp) isn’t the brightest move. When she reenters, Connor is already gathering up thread and shaking dust out of it.

“Oh, yes,” Jared says, surging forward and grabbing a green and purple thread from Connor’s hands. He sits heavily on the ground, immediately beginning a complicated braid without any prompting. He looks up at their surprised faces a moment later. “What? I learned at camp this summer.”

“Did you learn, Evan?” Alana asks, likely remembering they went to the same camp.

Evan looks away, one hand reaching to pick at an imperfection in the wooden wall. He shrugs. “‘M not very good,” he says, and Zoe can’t help but remember the snatches of conversation she remembers overhearing accidentally from her parents - she had to drive down and couldn’t handle it and maybe talking to the school counselor came to mind.

She crosses to him without thinking, grabbing his hand. “I’ll teach you,” she blurts without thinking. Connor hands her her favorite colors without prompting, and Zoe begins a tri-color braid that’s probably more complicated than Evan needs, but he catches on easily enough after a few minutes, twisting the blue and purple and pink together into something beautiful.

They pass their first hours in the treehouse like that, singularly focused like only little kids can be, and when Zoe’s parents bring up pizza and Sprite they pause only to admire their fine work. Several bracelets adorn each of their wrists, each twisted by someone else and infused with why Jared jokingly called the power of love. And the sun sets on them all together, smearing grease across their faces and throwing loose bits of thread across their haven in the sky, and Zoe smiles.

***

It was nearing dinnertime, far too cold and far too quiet to be in a treehouse.

Connor and Zoe took to hanging around the treehouse even when their friends weren’t there, much preferring it to their former hiding places within the house. As the winter wore on and the days grew shorter, so did Murphy tempers, and cabin fever mixed in only made enclosed spaces more liable to combust. So, with the treehouse available, Zoe tended to grab Connor and the ukelele she’d just begun learning to play and sneaking out the sliding door into their backyard. That particular evening, the layer of fluffy snow that had just fallen masked their escape and allowed them entrance to the treehouse and cushioned any residual noise left from the kitchen. They still were bundled up, however, their parkas and hats pulled tight. Both had forgone gloves, however; Zoe felt her fingers stiffen and slip on her ukelele strings, while Connor seemed unperturbed by the cold while he sketched in his brand-new sketchbook. Save for her muffled ukelele noises and the faint rustling of small creatures in the snow and Connor’s pencil etching against paper, all was still.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to bring string instruments into the cold,” Connor said, breaking the silence. Zoe responded by strumming an e minor chord more aggressively.

They fell back into their rhythm, and Connor started to hum along to her strumming just as the pinks and purples broke through gray winter sky.

“We have a project,” a voice declared. startling both of them out of their individual reveries. Alana’s head popped up in the treehouse window, a giant pom-pom hat perched precariously over the intricate braided bun Zoe could remember seeing at school that day.

“Jesus Christ, Alana,” Connor said, sounding very much like a kid who was trying his hardest to get a handle on cussing and sounding cool. “How did you get here?”

Alana blinked, righting the large box she held in her hands. “Your parents said you were here.”

Connor stilled abruptly, while Zoe’s foot started bouncing. “You talked to them?”

“Yeah,” she said, and as if she knew their next question - likely because she did, from years of experience - “They seemed like they were calming down.”

“Good,” Zoe said quietly.

Impervious to the Murphy siblings’ shifted expressions, Alana dropped the metal box to the floor and followed it, dropping to the frosty pine boards like there was nothing else she’d rather do. “Anyway, we’re making a time capsule!”

“We are?” Zoe said, feeling amusement creeping into the edges of her voice.

“Yes. You’ll thank me in ten years.”

Zoe and Connor shared a look. Connor cut off the awkward silence that suddenly descended. “The ground is frozen. How are we going to bury it?”

Alana grinned over the lid. “My dads were talking about the thaw later this week.”

“No snow?” added a new voice. Evan popped up barely a moment later, likely having taken a wild path up the tree rather than using the ladder like anyone else, even when ice coated to every nook and cranny of the bark. “Already?”

“Apparently,” Zoe replied.

“Won’t it get all covered in mud?” Jared added, and Zoe spun her head around to look at Alana, fixing her with a sharp look.

“Did you invite everyone over to our house?”

Alana shrugged. “This is important. And there isn’t that much mud if you dig deep enough, Jared.”

“Again - why?” Connor interrupted.

“Because she says so, and it’s a kick-ass idea,” Jared said.

“Didn’t expect you to latch onto sentimentality, Kleinman,” Zoe muttered, startling a laugh out of him.

Alana pulled a binder free from the backpack she’d slung to the ground. “C’mon - what do you want to add?”

“Cheerios,” Jared said at once, earning a scowl out of Alana.

“If you’re not going to take this seriously, Jared-”

“He’ll shut up,” Evan rushed to cut him off. “So not food items?”

“More sentimental, I think,” Connor said.

“Exactly.”

Under Alana’s direction, they did just that. After a successful thaw later in the week Zoe took a shovel from the garage and helped them dig and re-bury dirt in the Murphy’s backyard, marked by a small stake Connor painted with acrylics from their mom’s craft supply.

“Now we wait,” Alana said.

***

Somewhere along the line, things get… tense.

Zoe reads the self-help books and watches the videos her teachers play on VHS tapes during their “health” classes. They all describe the same thing, a switch flipping with no warning once elementary school draws to a close and sixth grade begins. Admittedly, she watches them a year later than everyone else, forever cursed to be a year behind. But she knows it’s coming all the same - fault lines crackling out through the earth and darting between their feet, setting them all adrift on different paths, thunder drowning out their words where there used to be laughter.

Nothing could have prepared her for the actual occurrence, though.

The treehouse really is their de facto hangout spot, given the Murphy’s lasé-faire attitude towards where their children were and the complete privacy it afforded. With their newly-acquired Jazz Band extracurricular, Zoe and Jared always arrive late, normally to the sight of Evan and Alana reading and Connor drawing or some other combination of their group’s preferred activities. But when they climb the ladder to the treehouse that day, the air is…stilted, like Zoe has grown to expect inside the house. That kind of expectant anger, like you know something is going to go wrong but aren’t sure what it is yet.

Evan sits, his eyes darting between Alana and Connor and over to Jared and Zoe as they walk in like he can sense a disaster brewing. Jared flounces over to Connor, sprawling, earning himself a glare.

“Can I help you, Kleinman?”

He nods to the sketchbook in Connor’s hands. “Might want to clean up those lines.”

It only gets worse from there - cutting barbs thrown this way and that, all ready to strike and hit. Nothing too bad, at least not until Connor says get the fuck out of my house and Jared says at least I have other people who will take me and Alana says honestly can’t you two even try to act mature and Zoe hears herself say at least we’re not miserable all the time before she realizes that’s - patently false. And one by one, they storm away, hopping down with practiced agility they no longer have reason to use.

And there Zoe sits. Shutting down, like she always does.

***

Connor felt like he was suffocating.

Everything was aggressively there-every word spoken grating his ears, every shadow a little too dark and every light a little too bright, every glance so heavy it weighed on his chest. He felt uneven and on edge, like one loud noise would send him spiraling off of a cliff and bursting into tears.

“Zoe,” he’d said, coming up behind her as she stood at the counter. Maybe if he’d looked he would have seen how her shoulders tensed as soon as she heard his voice. Maybe if he’d listened he would’ve heard how Zoe’s breath hitched and how she quickly ran a hand over her face. Maybe if he’d paid attention he would’ve noticed how her hands clenched around her mug and she steeled herself. Maybe the glint of pain and fear and loneliness nestled deep within her eyes before she put her shields up as she turned around would’ve stood out to him. But he couldn’t even handle analyzing himself, and there was no hope for understanding Zoe.

“What?” She said, and even in his funk he noticed how her words appeared differently than normal. Maybe, if he’d taken a moment to think, he would have identified the source-fatigue, cutting through each letter. There was none of the venom they’d grown used to hurling at each other and pretending it didn’t burn once it touched skin. She sounded tired.

He rubbed the edge of his sweatshirt sleeve with us thumb, trying to pull an excuse out of nowhere. In reality, he just needed something to anchor him to Earth, but he couldn’t say that to her. “Could you paint my nails?” He bit out, risking cutting his gaze up to her face. Her eyes had widened slightly since he last looked at her, eyebrows lifted silently with them. She pulled her bottom lip between her front teeth, and she looked down and away, foot tapping some unfamiliar rhythm against the tiled floor. Silence hung between them, dark and heavy, nearly drowning out the tap tap taptap tap of her foot. He looked back up towards her, not quite meeting her eyes, perhaps a bit more expectancy in his gaze than he would have liked.

She shook her head slightly, ring finger tapping against the side of her mug. “Why?” She said, almost too quietly for him to hear.

“Why am I asking…?”

“Yeah,” She said, same fatigue in her voice. “Why are you asking me? When this is the first time you’ve talked to me in…what, four months without being forced to?”

Connor shrugged a little, taken aback by this reaction. A soft, incredulous laugh built in Zoe’s throat.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered, voice choked. “I don’t understand. You’ve broken down my door twice. I’m the worst thing that’s ever happened to you. Why would you want me to…”

“I don’t know,” Connor said, voice uneven. Zoe shook her head again.

She stared evenly at him, and maybe if he’d been paying better attention he would have noticed the thin sheen of tears in her eyes as he raised his eyes to meet hers. “What color?”

“What?”

“Nail polish. If I painted your nails. What color would it be?”

Connor resumed rubbing his sleeve. “Black.”

She bit her lip again, the edges of her mouth curling into a bitter smile, words sounding just as bitter. “Damn. I’m out of black.”

The edge of Connor’s mouth twitched even as he felt something sink inside of him. “I see,” he said, a touch harder than the previous words had been.

Zoe shrugged, hand still wrapped around her mug, as she pushed her hip against the side of the counter to launch herself away from it. “That’s that, I guess.”

“I guess so,” Connor responded, voice hollow.

Maybe, if he’d looked up instead of locking his gaze on the floor, he’d have seen the tense hold of Zoe’s shoulders, the moment of faltering before she continued walking.

“I guess so,” she repeated faintly, all edges gone form her voice and tiredness abundant.

Connor squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them, she was completely gone from the kitchen. He gazed around for a moment, letting the view of the kitchen wash around him.

Oh, how the mighty fall.

***

Zoe is desperately glad she and Connor are only Irish twins.

Distance - distance is what she needs more than ever. She’d hated it, that chasm between her and everyone else, but of course she couldn’t have known just how wide that chasm could get. Would get, with time and urging and their circle falling apart under the right amount of pressure.

The right amount of pressure, she thinks, poised to flee on her kitchen chair, leg bouncing and heart coiled, for Connor to come home. He does, of course, sullen and tired, but in front of her eyes all the same. It’s only been a year since they reached critical mass in the treehouse, but the shift in all of them came quickly and without mercy. Alana buries herself in more work than Zoe had ever thought possible, always hurrying away whenever Zoe tries to get a word in edgewise. Jared just darts his eyes around like a caged animal, calculations churning behind his eyes as though searching for his best way forward. Evan she still sees somewhat regularly, making sure that her parents still drive him home and letting him crash on their couch when Heidi works too late, but she’s seen him retreat into himself too often to think he’s okay. And Connor…

“What are you doing up?” he whispers, the sound traveling across their kitchen table.

“Waiting for you,” she responds in a similar hiss, snapping her laptop shut.

“You should’ve just gone to bed, Mom’s gonna be pissed if she sees the li-”

“When she sees her son walk through the door at-” she lifts her phone dramatically, searching for the little time symbol. “1:12 in the morning?”

“Well she won’t see it if you just go to sleep-”

“What are you even doing?” she says in a normal tone, though she recoils and presses a hand over her mouth when Connor’s eyes widen in warning. She and Connor freeze with their hands stifling their breathing, trying to hear any shifts from their parents upstairs with their identical eyes wide. After a beat of nothing but the house shifting in the wind, she lowers her hands, swiping up her laptop with the one closest to the table. “You don’t need to be out this late, Con.”

His eyes flash over to her, then back up to the ceiling. “You don’t need to stay up for me.”

“Oh, sure, I’ll just stop worrying, I’ll just go to bed and dream sweet dreams when you’re doing hell knows what-”

“I didn’t ask you to fucking worry about me!” He cuts out. “I don’t need your pity, Zoe!”

She balts, shakes her head, feels her braids sliding against the material of her jazz band sweatshirt. “Pity?” she repeats.

Connor holds his jaw, looking away.

“Pity,” she says, then laughs a single time, too loud, but she’s past the point of caring. “I don’t know where you got pity from in the last fourteen years, Connor, but none of it is coming from me, that’s for sure.” She brushed past him. “Fine. You don’t deserve my worry anyway. I’ll tell mom in the morning if you’re so insistent.”

Connor’s footsteps hurry after her, until his fingers wrap around her wrist. She jerks it away as soon as he makes contact, “Don’t. Please.”

“You want me to stop worrying?” she says lowly, dangerously. “Fine. Then I’ll make sure you can’t do anything that worries me. See how you fucking like that.”

It was like a switch flipped in Connor, like as soon as their group fell apart so did he, growing more liable to shut down and ramp up at once. But he just leaves her grasping at straws always, never able to say anything right.

Middle school bleeds into high school, the chasm and pressure growing between them, small disagreements exploding into screams and something valuable shattering. Doors they’d never closed before close with racorous clangs, and Zoe grows tired of sleeping outside of them and waiting for him to open them up.

You don’t need to worry about me, he’d said, and she can’t ever stop, really, but she can ignore him until the worry clawed at her a little less urgently.

Try as she might, she couldn’t just forget all those years, especially when she saw reminders of them all around school - flashes of Jared’s shirts, an edge of Alana’s backpack, a flicker of Evan’s eyes. She still goes to the treehouse, sometimes, but mostly she keeps to her room, her guitar, the things she knows.

Her phone buzzes one night, and when she sees Evan Hansen flash across her screen she picks it up without a moment’s thought.

“Hello?”

“Zoe?” Evan says, voice breathy in her ear.

There’s a beat. “Yeah,” she finally says. “You okay?”

“I’m - yeah, um, I’m fine, it’s all - uh, my mom is pulling a night shift.”

“Oh?” She says, barely a hum.

“Yeah. She - look, this is, um, really dumb, I know, but can I - can I stay at yours? Tonight? I know it’s been, um, less than ideal, I can just-”

“Yeah,” she says, again without thinking. She squeezes her eyes shut, forces enthusiasm into her voice. “Yeah. ‘Course, Ev. I’ll - you need me to pick you up?”

“What? Um - no, I’m - I’m at the park, actually, walking is…fine.”

Her eyebrows pull closer together. “It’s late.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Really.”

Ten minutes later, Evan is on their front porch. Cynthia greets him with a warm smile, and Zoe leans against the doorway of the guest room while he sets himself up.

“Are you okay, Evan?” She hears herself ask.

His head jerks up quickly, locking eyes with her. “I-I’m fine.”

Zoe shakes her head, letting out a but of air through her nose. “What’s up, then?”

His hands still over his backpack, and he looks just past her head to the hallway. “I couldn’t be alone in that house.”

She hesitates for a moment, nods, looks to the corner of the room. “I get it.”

“Do you?”

Her eyes snap back over to him. “What?”

“Do you - have you been alone, Zoe, through all of this?”

She snorts. “Good as.”

“But never actually-”

“Loneliness isn’t always distance,” she spits out. “But if it was you’d be all set, given how much you run away from all of us.”

Time slows to a crawl; Evan lets his hands fall to his sides, eyes wide and searching on hers.

“I’m,” she begins, the word getting stuck in her throat. She looks towards her feet. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, but before he can say anything she says “I’ll drive you in tomorrow” and is gone, set off down the hallway.

The next morning she gets to her car early, knowing, somehow, he’ll climb in with enough time to get there. And he does so wordlessly.

Somewhere, on the way to school, he murmurs, “I’m sorry for pulling away.”

She taps her index finger against the wheel, looking out towards the road rather than him. The scene is desolate, still early-morning and deserted with the yellowing pools of light from streetlights that have yet to switch off. “Yeah, me too.”

Every day, he swings by her house - a long walk, making his day longer, but he’s always been an early bird - to get a ride to school. Connor joins them occasionally, but mostly he arrives by his own means that Zoe isn’t too interested in learning. He talks to Jared, little by little, and she sees Connor and Alana in the library and Jared and Alana with their heads bowed together at lunch. She finds a picture of them in the treehouse and texts it to them as a group, and things feel a little closer to okay.

After high school, things start to calm down, like an inflamed cut that needs to be soothed. She and Connor stand in each other’s doorways until they have the courage to walk inside, and their newly-reinstated group chat keeps a steady flow of bad memes and musical theater jokes. It’s easier to breathe when she’s at school, easier to move and be. She’s used to being alone in a house full of people; being alone in a city of lonely people is close enough that the transition is almost nothing.

She misses everyone, though. Evan texts her pictures of the trees back home and around the community college, and Connor snaps Jared and Alana when they’re around. She’s the only one who left, this time around. Removed by physical distance rather than a measly year.

She gets home for winter break halfway through December, and an unusually warm one at that. Connor follows her up to her room, watching her unpack likely half in an attempt to give her some privacy from their parents.

“You seen Evan yet?” He asks at some point, once he’s grown bored of watching her fold clothes.

“No, not yet,” she replies with saccharine sweetness.

“You should,” he mocks in a similar tone of voice.

“I will.”

Their ridiculous miming comes to a halt when she withdraws a rattling bag from her backpack and throws it onto her bed. Connor dives forward, grabbing at it. “Is this-did you just throw nail polish?” He demands.

She looks him dead in the eye and does the same with her other bag.

“Dishonor on you,” he mutters, already unzipping it and rifliging through the colors with a clink each time. “Want me to do your nails? They’re looking…” he trails off, eyes dipping to her unpainted and bitten nails, worn down by her guitar strings.

“I could say the same to you,” she says. “Stones and glass houses, dear brother.”

“Point taken.”

They take the time to paint each other’s nails after dinner, sitting on their living room couch. Connor opts for a dark blue instead of his gala black, and chooses gold glitter for the upcoming holidays for Zoe.

“Please don’t get nail polish on the couch, Zoe,” her mother says as she passes by to go to the kitchen, and she and Connor lock eyes. He rolls his; she smiles tightly.

“You’d think she say it to me, given that I live here,” Connor whispers.

Her phone bzzs in her pocket, and instinctively she reaches for it, noting the way the golden glitter glints against the denim of her jeans.

Evan Hansen: gonna leave mom’s for a walk, you tied up?

She feels the corners of her lips twitch involuntarily. Yes, please. Ready in 10?

“I’m gonna take a walk,” she announces loudly enough her parents should be able to hear it from the next room. “It’s just Evan,” she adds in an undertone to Connor. “Want to come along?”

“Nope. Have fun, though, I guess.”

“So enthusiastic.”

Evan is waiting outside, bundled up in a scarf and parka. His eyes pinch at the edges like they always do when he’s tired; she surges forward and slides her arms around his neck, colliding with him softly so he lets out an oomph. She feels a kiss pressed to the top of her head a moment later.

“Hey,” she says, muffled into his coat. “You’re overdressed.”

“You’re underdressed.”

“Fleece is never wrong.”

“…I suppose you’re right?” And then, with some trepidation, “oh no. Not again.”

“I’m always right,” she says lightly, throwing him a smile so he knows it’s a joke. She reaches for his hand, tugging him forward lightly. “Heidi‘s doing well?”

“Well as always, yeah. Your family?”

“All…fine,” she says. “Just, y’know…stressed.”

“Mhm,” Evan hums, and she can tell he’s trying to say something, so she just squeezes his hand lightly and falls silent.

“Dad wanted me to go h–to Colorado,” Evan blurts. “For Christmas.”

She pauses a little at that, tugging his hand closer. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” He swallows gently, watching the sky with a ferocity she can barely remember him having. She sees the stars shine in his deep brown eyes, though they seem a little too starry to be reflection alone. He blinks rapidly. “Mom encouraged me,” he adds, “but I–Zoe, I couldn’t.”

“I don’t blame you,” she says, letting out a jet of breath. “I wouldn’t be able to either.” She lets her eyes drift upward and pulls him a little bit closer to her, wrapping her free hand around his arm. “Can’t,” she amends, all breath.

“He still doesn’t care,” Evan says, almost to himself. “He knows what I fucking celebrate, and he still doesn’t–care.”

“Yeah, well, he’s a dick,” Zoe says before immediately wishing she could take it back. That kind of bluntness helps her and Connor, but never Evan.

But Evan surprises her all the same. “You’re not wrong.”

A laugh bursts from her chest, and after a moment Evan joins her, albeit hesitantly. “Like I said,” she repeats, “never am.”

Evan’s ghand remains chilly in hers, despite his best attempts to keep warm with his jacket; she brings his hand over to hold it in both of hers, wincing a little as his cold fingers meet hers.

“How are you so cold all the time?” she murmurs, massaging over his knuckles with one hand.

“How is it for you?” He asks suddenly, his brain taking him in a whole new direction. Zoe isn’t phased by the topic change.

“It’s…like it always is,” she admits, her voice low. She pulls Evan’s hands closer to her heart, trying to convince herself it’s just to warm him up. “Better with Con, I guess. But it’s still…” she swallows roughly. “I feel like I can’t…breathe, sometimes.”

“Yeah,” Evan says quietly. “It can be hard.” He frees his hand, only to wrap it around her shoulders. She steals his other hand as soon as they get situated in a good walking pace.

Almost nothing about Evan is calm, but he’s calming all the same. He’s all Zoe can think of as they turn in front of Ellison State Park.

Evan stills, and Zoe keeps walking forward for a moment, accidentally tugging at their conjoined hands. She looks back at him immediately, tone filling with concern. “Everything okay?”

“Is that…” he mutters, before surging forward and pulling her rather than the other way around. “Alana! Jared!” He calls, uncharacteristically loud. And sure enough, in the distance, she can see Alana and Jared leaned over something just inside the bronzed gates of Ellison Park.

“Evan!” Jared calls, only to immediately get shushed by an old couple taking a walk around the park.

They hurry across the street, waving wildly to the single car that seems perplexed by their crossing, and Alana passes something to Jared before pulling them both into a too-tight hug that reminds Zoe of her mother.

When they pull away, she ruffles Zoe’s hair like she’s a little kid again. “There’s our city girl.”

“You should’ve joined me!” Zoe protests, already moving over to Jared to hug him.

Jared looks like he might shy away for a second, but he relents only a second later, a hug almost as tight as Alana’s. Zoe’s pulled away by a pressure at her leg, something soft poking through the tears and a panting noise. When she looks down, the downy face of a dog stares back up at her, tail wagging and tongue hanging out. Without thinking, she drops to the ground, offering him a hand as she balances on one knee. He nearly knocks her over a moment later when he bounds forward to lick her cheek and request pets. She looks back up at the obvious joy on Alana’s face.

“You adopted a dog??” She asks, remembering the powerpoint Alana made in middle school trying to convince her parents.

“Yes! We just got him this weekend and he’s already the best boy.”

The golden glint of a collar tag catches her eye. “Archibald? Well, aren’t you just a joy, Archie!”

“He doesn’t like Archie” Alana says a bit curtly, mid-coaxing the dog back towards her. She flips a few braids that had escaped her ponytail over her shoulder just in time for the dog to make a grab for them. She grins down at him before looking back up towards Zoe. “Is Connor around? I haven’t seen him in a bit.”

“Yeah,” Zoe says. “Here, I can…” She pulls out her phone to tell Connor to join them, making a silly face when the dog makes a u-turn to lick her cheek.

Connor Murphy: are you and hansen bein gross

Zoe: alana and jared are here dork

Connor: with archibald?

Zoe: how. how did you know this

Connor: lana and i have a snap streak of 150k. keep up

Zoe: side note do you know why she named her dog after an elderly british man

Zoe: and won’t let me call him archie

Connor: says archie’s a dumb name and she “thinks its refined”

Zoe: lmao k

“Connor should be by soon,” she relays, smiling back down at the dog. He takes a particular liking to her; she can’t quite get used to it. “You’re a good baby, aren’t you?”

Something occurs to her all of the sudden, and she pulls her phone back out.

Zoe: WAIT are you still by the house

Connor: just leaving why

Zoe: …yknow that old time capsule?

Connor: are you going to ask me to dig it up in mid december while you’re hanging out with our old friends so i can bring it to the park

Zoe: yes

Connor: you were put on this earth to test me

Connor: be there in 15

“He’s bringing something,” she adds, and ignores their curious looks in favor of the dog.

When Connor’s shape finally appears, it’s carrying a bag rather than a box. “It was shot,” he explains in an undertone once he gets close enough for Zoe to hear. He reaches out a hand and lands a spare pat to Archibald’s head. “Had to improvise.”

“Hey, Connor!” Alana says, almost too cheery. Connor raises a hand, plopping the bag in the middle of their circle but out of Archibald’s reach.

“We don’t want your weird sex stuff, Connor,” Jared says, and Zoe shoots him a glare.

“It’s the time capsule, actually, but thanks for the input,” Connor says before Zoe can speak.

A beat passes, no noise but Archibald’s panting.

“Oh,” Alana says after a moment. “Your parents let you keep that?”

“They didn’t know,” Zoe and Connor deadpan at the same time. Jared stifles something that sounds like a cough but is probably closer to a laugh.

Zoe looks at Evan and reaches out to lace their fingers together again. He looks around the group, studying each person’s face. “Should we…”

Jared reaches forward and overturns the bag.

Glitter is the first thing Zoe sees; she hears Evan hiss “shit” as it explodes everywhere over the grass. It’s green, which makes that portion of grass look unnaturally healthy and shiny. Jared looks up; some had reached his glasses lenses, as he was the one to set the glitter loose.

“Alright,” he says. “Who put the glitter in?”

Alana grimaces and holds Archibald back from the pile of glitter. “I’m pretty sure that was you, Jared.”

“…Oh.”

Zoe leans forward, picking through the cacophony of items and silently handing them out. A few purple, pink, and blue friendship bracelets find their way throughout the group, and Connor even puts one on to a joke from Zoe about stealing the bi colors. Jared reclaims a few of the Connor has to make a quick grab for a few sheets of paper in the wind that turn out to be filled with his sketches. Zoe picks up a purple ukulele pick, feeling it slide between her calloused fingertips. She hands Evan an outdated pamphlet from Ellison State Park about their rangers program to Jared’s exclamation of “That’s what you put in??” and throws a few ballet ribbons and a small journal in Alana’s direction.

Jared’s makes her pause, and he takes advantage of the lull to surge forward and snatch the object from her hands. The silicone abides easily. “So that’s where I put my iPod!”

“Why did we let you do this?” Zoe says. “Why did your parents?”

“I’m gonna be honest,” Jared admits, examining it for quality. He looks up and around their assembled group. “I forgot about it immediately after burying it.”

Alana laughs first, and then she sets everyone else off, a group of college-age kids giggling over a pile of glitter and their childhood treasures in the park where everything began. Evan falls into Zoe’s side, unable to curb his laughter; she buries her own in the top of his head, his curls tickling her cheeks and making her laughs worse. And as they get dirty looks from everyone around them, the night only feels like another beginning.

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Stud 9

Previously on Stud

“It’s been awhile.” 

“Near a decade?” 

“Well there was that convention in Prague. Maybe six, seven years ago?” 

“And the reunion at the Hargrove Estate.” 

“The presentations in Oslo?” 

“I think… I think that was right around when m mom--” Lexa furrowed as she tried to place the time that seemed to slip away from them. “I guess Prague was the last time.” 

“Five years then,” her old friend from college nodded thoughtfully. “Time is a dangerous thing. I hate it.” 

The lounge was intimate, dimly lit and clean, freshly modeled despite being an ancient and ritzy institution in its own right. Dark woods were illuminated by soft lights, large paintings covered the walls in dark gold frames. The chairs were velvet and the drinks were perfectly crafted from the best labels. The clamor of the familiar crowd in suits and ties and diamonds and dresses was just a murmur behind their secluded table 

Maggie James hadn’t changed a bit, just matured into a fulfilled version of herself, or so Lexa liked to imagine. She still had deep brown eyes and a heart-shaped face. Still had a soft smile. Her hair was cut shorter now, above the shoulders and wavy. Her demeanor was more assured, more herself, than the unsure girl in college, or even the graduate assistant at a presentation in Prague. 

“I have to say, I hadn’t expected to hear from the CFO of one of the largest companies on the planet after reading my lowly article and research.” 

“I don’t know about lowly,” Lexa smiled after sipping her drink. “I thought it was a good article. And your research was thorough.” 

“I just observe and postulate. Those other companies were the ones doing the hard part.” 

She was naturally demure. Maggie was not someone who had to work for a living. Her family owned an ancient merchant conglomerate and she was vaguely related to a Kennedy and a Duke or something. And though she had her phases, Lexa remembered her from school as someone who wanted to do her own thing. She didn’t cut up her black card, but she sure didn’t care to rely simply by biding her time. Lexa always liked that. 

They hadn’t been especially close, just gravitated to similar circles and were in the same degree program, naturally leading to an affiliation that boarded somewhere between acquaintances who knew too much and friends with no actual ties. 

The real surprise had been when Maggie actually returned the phone call Lexa gave after a few weeks of obsessing over the research and generally annoying her girlfriend with facts and tidbits, filling up a notebook with her own questions, ideas, and things she’d read. She’d garnered a lot of attention with her article and research. It almost wasn’t worth it for her to return the call of a somewhat acquaintances, somewhat friend that she hadn’t seen or heard from in upwards of six years. But Lexa’s last name was on buildings in almost ever major city, and regardless, she got a return call. 

“I did call you about the article, but also to catch up,” Lexa promised. 

“And remember those good times in college?” 

“We did have a few of those, didn’t we?” she grinned, looking over her glass, earning a shaking head and heavy sigh and smile. 

“Much to my girlfriend’s chagrin.” 

“You actually told her some stories?” Maggie raised her eyebrows and chuckled. “And she let you come tonight?” 

“Encouraged it actually. She’s sick of hearing me rave about your work and research. I’m allowed to have an intellectual crush on you, and that’s it.” 

“She’s a saint.” 

“You have no idea,” Lexa agreed and signaled for another round. “Last I heard, you were engaged to some Lockeridge. Didn’t work out?” 

Maggie held up her hand and wiggled an empty ring finger. 

“He didn’t particularly care that I was interested in anything other than the usual marriage retirement activities like kids and needlepoint or whatever.” 

“A shame.” 

“I heard you decided to go outside of the pool or acceptables,” Maggie shrugged. “I only have a few questions: How, and how did your father take it?” 

“You know my dad. He wouldn’t know acceptable if it shook his hand. He actually adores Clarke. And it was sheer luck. She just happened to be best friends with a mechanic I use to fix up old cars.” 

“Kismet.” 

“How did your parent’s take the loss of a Lockeridge hyphenation?” 

“Mom went into full mourning, black outfits for a week and three weeks in Italy,” Maggie recited as Lexa laughed. “Dad complained about his lost deposits on venues.” 

“And now?” 

“Now, I research sustainable and ethical management in corporations.” 

“I meant--”

“I don’t even own a car, so I haven’t run into any mechanics, and I was almost hoping you’d broken up with your saint and that’s why you’d called.”

“It actually our three year anniversary next month.” 

“Disgusting. You’re buying the drinks.” 

They both shared a smile and shook their heads, amused at themselves and the situation of their lives, both wondering how they hadn’t taken the time to be better friends, although a few drunken make outs had certainly ended any hopes of that back then. 

“I’m assuming you want to talk to me about the article and your company?” 

“I was having fun catching up, but I take sex off the table and now you’re all business.” 

“I know your time is valuable, and I don’t want you to think you have to waste it catching up,” she explained, leaving Lexa slightly baffled. 

“Your time is valuable too, and honestly, I am kind of having fun catching up. I kind of fell out with the old gang after Mom.” 

“I heard you did the falling.” 

“Probably,” Lexa nodded in agreement as she swapped out her empty glass for a new one. “I worked myself raw for three years straight.”

“But you still hear some of the rumblings from the old guard?” 

“Some. Care to fill me in on more before I proposition you?” 

“Intellectually?” 

“Strictly.” 

Maggie took a large sip from her drink and eyed the girl across from her, at ease and amused at their conversation, ever charming and wildly sexy without even meaning to do it, Lexa was someone who made her attention feel like nothing else mattered, and anyone would want to be within her company to experience it. All were welcome, but it was a blessing to hold her focus for an extended period of time, in any capacity. Maggie remembered making out with her in the bathroom of a club. She remembered making out with her at a party on the Lower East Side. She remembered Lexa’s messy waves, leather jacket, and fiery eyes that remained, even a decade later. But they weren’t for her anymore, and she was alright with the disappointment if it meant working with her. 

“Did you know Emma Hunton-Blather?” 

“Not biblically.” 

“I wouldn’t imagine so. She’s an ultra-religious mommy blogger now.” 

“Yikes,” Lexa winced. 

“And Francine Christenson already divorced twice.” 

“I think I saw one of those.” 

The evening was easy. The drinks flowed and the two caught up with their previous acquaintances. Lexa was grateful that it was going well considering how nervous she was about approaching an almost stranger. 

The drinks kept coming and before she could talk shop, Lexa was drunk and just enjoyed having fun.

XXXXXXXXX

“I love her.” 

“Oh god, not this again,” Clarke groaned, rolled over, and tugged the pillow with her over her head. 

“Not like I love you. I just am fascinated by her research.” 

“Is that what you call her boobs?” 

“Oh no,” Lexa shook her head, wobbling slightly as she plunked down on the edge of the bed and began awkwardly tugging off her shoes. “I can’t even seen boobs that aren’t yours boobs. I am boob-blind now.”

Despite herself, Clarke smiled at her drunken girlfriend. It wasn’t often that she came out, and when Drunk Lexa did, she often enjoyed it. There wasn’t any jealousy against Maggie James, just that Clarke liked a little more attention than she was getting with this new project. She also wished this old project hadn’t made out with her girlfriend, but that was neither here nor there. She’d feel the same way if Lexa was obsessed with recycling. She’d hate it and vote for global warming to make her stop fixating. 

Before she could finish with her shoes, Lexa flopped backwards, fully clothed and half on the bed. 

“Clarke. Hey, are you sleeping?” 

“No, darling. I’m up.” 

“I wish I’d never made out with Maggie, because I think we could have been have friends.”

“Good. Keep not making out with her and you can be.” 

“Ahhhh,” Lexa pointed at Clarke and laughed before letting her arm fall back down. 

“Plus, you could use more friends.” 

“Nah. I don’t.” 

“You do.” 

Clarke moved, putting the book she’d fallen asleep reading on the night stand and moving her way around the bed to help the pitiful thing that couldn’t get undressed. She stayed at Lexa’s strictly because it meant sloppy drunk needy Lexa. She also expected her about two hours earlier. 

“You need more friends. It’s good to have them.” 

“I have Gus,” Lexa listed, counting on her fingers as her girlfriend tugged off her shoes for her. “And Aden, and Anya, and Dad, and Indra, and um. And Maggie. And, um… uh…” 

“Only one of those are age appropriate, not related to you, and not salaried.” 

“And you! You’re my best friend. Who needs more than that?” 

She didn’t mean to, but Clarke smiled at that as she moved to unbutton Lexa’s shirt, earning a smile and laugh despite already closed eyes. 

“Oh, are you getting me naked, Ms. Griffin? Naughty naughty.” 

“How much did you drink?” 

“A little bit.” 

Clarke just shook her head and pulled Lexa up so she could pull off the shirt. She moves to the pants next, instructing her to lift her butt so she could tug them off. Lexa remained fairly still as Clarke searched for a spare shirt for her to sleep in. 

“Hey, hey, Clarke. Hey,” Lexa called in a whisper. 

“Hm?” 

“You really are my best friend.” 

Clarke smiled, her cheeks growing warm as she slid the shirt over the drunk’s arms and head, careful not to poke an eye or pull hair. Tenderly, she got a rag from the bathroom and wiped her face as best she could, earning almost purrs of contentment with the treatment. 

“Are you ready for me to fuck you?” Lexa ventured, wiggling her eyebrows. “I’ve been thinking about it all night.” 

“You’re drunk.”

“And you’re beautiful.” Clarke pushed her girlfriend’s shoulders so that she fell back in bed easily. “Perfect. You can be on top.” 

“Get under the covers. It’s time for bed.” 

“Fine, but you should know that I am a good lay.” 

“I’m aware,” Clarke grinned as Lexa climbed in obediently. 

“I’m like really good at giving you orgasms. And you seem to like them.” 

“Oh, I do. But I’m tired and you’re drunk.”

“Those are two true facts,” Lexa nodded and yawned, rolling into her usual spot. Her arm was held open until Clarke joined her in bed. 

The lights off and the pair finally ready for bed, Clarke snuggled into her spot and felt Lexa’s warmth, enjoying the feeling of having her back. 

“Hey Lex?” Clarke whispered as arms held her tightly. 

“Change your mind about sex?” Lexa returned. “I’m still down.” 

“No. I just wanted to tell you that you’re my best friend, too.” 

“Good.” 

Her arms pulled tighter and Lexa kissed Clarke’s shoulder before falling into a very contented drunken slumber. 

XXXXXXXXX

Lexa loved her office. She loved that it was quiet and that even though she had taken a smaller role in th day to day operations, it was still there for her to work, uninterrupted and unimpeded. She loved her desk. She loved her view. She loved the certainty that came behind sitting her name plate, as if it told her who she was. There was a certain power that she took from it all. 

“Thanks for coming down,” Lexa offered as Maggie took a seat across from her desk. “I think i forgot to explain what interested me most about your research at drinks the other night.” 

“Yeah I think the fourth round of whisky made it a little difficult to keep track of complex ideas.” 

“I had a good time.” 

“Me too.” 

“My girlfriend let me know that I need more friends. The problem being that I don’t particularly like or trust most people.” 

“Or you’re too busy to put the effort into it. I get it. Trust me,” Maggie nodded, relaxing slightly as Anya brought in some coffee and placed it between them. “Thank you.” 

“I was told that all my friends work for me or are related to me,” Lexa explained as she sipped her coffee. “And even though I would consider us friends, or potentially friends. I want to hire you.” 

“I already have a job.” 

“Yes, but I have lots of money.” 

Maggie snorted at that, smiling, amused at Lexa’s candor. 

“I have lots of money too.” 

“I knew you would say that. I also knew that there wasn’t much I could offer you to sway you away from a fun research and doctoral position at a great university. I’m sure you find teaching rewarding.” 

Lexa stood from her desk and grabbed a folder from the corner, carefully looking it over in her hands. 

“The interesting thing I found in your report was that you were advocating for a system that not one single major corporation would even contemplate putting into existence.” 

“I’m sure some--”

“Free housing? College tuition? Four day work weeks? Work from home? Private insurance? Officer salary cuts? Who in there right mind is going to do that?” 

“I thought you were interested in my research.” 

“I am. Because my job was killing me. And I have a hypothesis for you.”

“I think that’s my job.” 

“You haven’t accepted yet,” Lexa reminded her as she leaned against the front of her desk. “If I implement your suggestions, will I not hate my job anymore?” 

“There’s no way for me to measure that.” 

“True. Will I feel better if we are a more ethical and knowledgeable company?” 

“Yes.” 

“Will we turn a profit?” 

“According to my data, yes. Although the scale of your business,” Maggie shook her head. “I wouldn’t even know where to start hypothesizing on when.” 

“Hypothetically,” Lexa continued, smiling at how easy it was to get her interested. “What would you need to start testing your hypothesis? In real time. At this company.” 

There was a quiet that settled as Maggie stared at the CFO. Long and tall, Lexa crossed her arms over her chest, the mystery folder tucked under her arm. Her shirt was folded precisely up to her elbow, her collar pressed and pointy, her glasses perched perfectly and her hair coiffed with enough effort to look like it wasn’t trying at all. She didn’t betray a thought though. 

“Off the top of my head, I’d need access to everything. I’d need months of internal research and auditing, plus at least a handful of accountants and assistants. I don’t think you understand what you’re asking.” 

“I do.” 

“You can’t.” 

“In this folder,” Lexa grinned, and held it in front of her friend. “Is one of our middling branches based in London. I want to give it to you.” 

“A company?” 

“Kind of. I want you to hire your team. I want you to help me implement your changes. I want to create a better world. I had to think of something that no one else could give you, to entice you. Is it working?” 

“Consider me enticed,” Maggie nodded, slowly accepting the folder and flipping it open, her mouth slightly agape. 

The buzzer on Lexa’s desk sounded and she pushed off, walking back to her chair. 

Ms. Woods, the car is here to take you to the airport. 

“Thanks, Anya. Give me a few more minutes.” 

“Going somewhere?” 

“Three year anniversary weekend,” Lexa smiled. “I had a bit of a rough year last year, but it’s all coming back around.” 

“You are incredibly good at multitasking. You’re pitching me while planning an epic event and doing how many other things.” 

“Take the week to think about it. Everything you need is in that folder.” 

“I’m going to need more than a fifteen minute meeting with yout see if this is even for real.”

“It’s real,” Lexa promised. “We can figure everything else out together, when you accept.” 

“If.” 

“I’ve been told I’m very persuasive. Take the week. I’ll be back next Tuesday and we can talk more then, if you’d like.” 

“I thought maybe a consultation, but this is…” Maggie shook her head and stared at the folder before shutting it quickly. “Hell of a friend.” 

“Come on, I’ll walk with you out,” Lexa offered as she grabbed her bag. 

XXXXXXXXXX

The ranch was still slightly visible in the sunset, the timing only slightly off with their arrival for the romantic weekend escape. Tall pines and cedars eclipsed it while the mountains stood tall and purple in the distance against a firestorm of clouds in the fading summer light. The cabin was one of her favorite places on the planet, and she couldn’t think of anywhere more secluded and perfect to hide away from the world with her beautiful girlfriend to celebrate three absolutely life-changing years. 

“I would have been happy with just a hotel room downtown,” Clarke chided as she entered the giant house. “This is too much.” 

“I figured it was a good excuse to use this place. It’s been years since I’ve been out,” Lexa explained as she dropped their bags in the foyer. 

She made sure everything was stocked and prepared and the staff wouldn’t be around. The caretakers didn’t mind a week off, and she was just excited to be away from the city and back somewhere quiet. 

“Is this the ranch your mom liked?” 

“Yeah, she’d make us spend a lot of spare time out here.” 

“I can see why. It’s beautiful.” 

“She designed it. Found an old hunting lodge and decided to convert it to a modern home. It was her labor of love.” 

“Thank ou,” Clarke smiled and hugged her girlfriend before kissing her cheek. “Show me around.” 

Lexa wasn’t particularly good at feeling so good, but she’d been excited and planned everything for the past month. So she took Clarke by the hand and showed her the grand room, the high ceiling and giant windows that looked out at the trees and the mountains as far as the eye could see. The fireplace was already roaring and inviting, but she took her toward the pool and hot tub area that went from outside to inside. She excitedly told her stories about being a kid, and all the stuff her and Aden would do. 

By the time they made it to the bedroom she wanted, Clarke flopped onto the bed and gave up trying to figure out where she was in the maze of a house. 

“So we get this whole place to ourselves for the next few days?” Clarke asked as Lexa gracefully slid beside her in the giant bed. 

“Mhm, so go ahead and just take your clothes off now. I actually should have told you that at the door.” 

“But I brought very cute lacy things you like me to wear.” 

“Oh, wait, yeah,” Lexa nodded eagerly. “That’s all you can wear.” 

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“I’m yours.” 

“And sappy.” 

“Incredibly.” 

But it was perfect, and Lexa didn’t care that her girlfriend was mocking her. She leaned forward and kissed her. She pressed Clarke into the bed and went about the task of celebrating. 

XXXXXXXXXX

“I need you to carb up because I have a few more things planned for you,” Lexa explained as she reached forward and took another slice of pizza. 

“Shut up.” 

“I mean it. Dad keeps the W stored in the garage and I have waited three years to--”

“You can’t be serious,” Clarke laughed and shook her head, pressing her palm over her chest with how amusing she found it. 

They were tangled in the sheets. They were tired and sated and happy and now nearly full from the dinner of pizza and beer. 

“That’s the real reason I decided to come here,” Lexa grinned. “The romantic, candlelight bath and fireplaces, and privacy were all a ruse. You’ve been ruse-d.” 

“I can’t believe I’ve kept you around for three years.” 

“Me neither.” 

“I should get a medal.” 

“I agree completely,” Lexa decided as she hopped up from the bed. “Wait right there.” 

Nearly tripping over herself, the CFO took the corner out of the room so quickly, Clarke was certain she hit the wall. The sound of padding bare feet could be heard in the bed, and for the life of her, Clarke wasn’t sure why it made her fall a little more in love, if that were even possible. 

In a flash, Lexa returned, hopping into the bed, quick to hide whatever was in her hands. 

“This was supposed to be a year of no gifts,” Clarke chided. 

“I’m terrible at following directions. I don’t know if you knew that or not yet, but it’s a harsh truth you should start to understand.” 

“You should listen to me.” 

“I should,” she nodded and held out a velvet box. “I’ll start tomorrow.” 

Clarke eyed her girlfriend warily and frowned at the blatant lie. But Lexa shrugged and smiled, nudging her to open the box. 

“Oh, Lex, this is…”

The keychain was a tiny logo of Lexa’s company. It was plain and simple and cost exactly $2.95, and now it was dangling from Clarke’s finger as she furrowed and smiled at it despite all else because it was certainly not what she was expecting. 

“It’s too much. You shouldn’t have.” 

“You deserve the best,” Lexa explained, scooting closer. “Last time we did this, I wasn’t read. You weren’t ready. It wasn’t right. But now...I think it’s right. I think I want to be with you all of the time. I want to come home from business trips and see you. I want to cook dinner together. I want to sleep with you every night. I want to live together.” 

Her hair was a mess, and when she was nervous, she talked with her hands. Clarke watched the entire thing without moving a muscle, because she might scare Lexa if she did. Instead, she looked at the key chain in her palm and listened. 

“You’ve been making a lot of moves lately, Woods.” 

“Well, the girl I love keeps pushing me to do better.” 

“What if you get sick of me?” 

“I won’t.” 

“What if I get sick of you?” 

“We’ll get a big place, so you can ignore me when I bug you,” Lexa promised. 

“You’re ready for this?” Clarke asked, giving her a hard look. 

“Very. Are you?” 

“Very.” 

Before she could say anything else, Lexa launched herself at her, and Clarke was tackled and kissed happily.

NEXT

[mst3kproject]

The Flame Barrier

I’ve got an awful lot of movies from 1958 on my resume, don’t I?  Why is that? Honestly, I couldn’t tell you. Apparently it was just a bumper year for cheap, crappy black-and-white films.  This one stars Kathleen Crowley from The Rebel Set and Rodd Redwing from The Mole People, in a movie written by George Worthing Yates, who also penned Earth vs the Spider.  Also featuring a blob from outer space, with motives even less clear than the one in The Space Children.

Over yet another stock-footage rocket launch, one of those deep-voiced 50’s narrators informs us that there’s a layer of Earth’s atmosphere called the Flame Barrier which destroys everything it touches. This particular rocket was no exception, and its crash-landing in the Mexican jungle may be related to the disappearance of explorer Howard Dalman, whose wife Carol has now come looking for him. She seeks out a pair of prospectors, Dave and Matt Hollister, to guide her to his last known location.  As they go deeper into the bush, they find they’re wandering into something unknown… something that can make men burst into flames!

This movie isn’t terrible.  It’s not great, but it’s not irredeemably awful.  It reminds me a lot of The Giant Gila Monster, in that there’s a story going on and it’s not a bad story per se, but it’s one that’s got nothing whatsoever to do with the title and premise that drew us to the film in the first place.  When the supposed main plot pops up again at the end, it makes for a sudden and jarring shift.

The Flame Barrier starts off all right.  We have the inevitable narrator to give us the backstory, and then it gets right on with meeting the characters.  They’re introduced one by one, telling us their personalities and goals: Carol is naïve and spoiled but she’s trying her best, Matt is a drunk fool but he’s got a good heart, and Dave is a gruff, cynical realist who loves his brother but is tired of his bullshit.  None of them are exactly nice people but you can see where they’re coming from, and they each get an arc.  Carol struggles with whether she really loved Howard, whom she barely knew, and the movie allows her to toughen up and learn how to survive in the wilderness. Dave spends much of the movie being a jerk to Carol but eventually realizes he judged her too harshly and apologizes.  Matt gets a chance to be a hero and takes it, believing that he owes it to Dave for never giving up on him.  The writing is frequently unsubtle but the actors are competent, and these little stories work just fine.

The movie that surrounds them, however, is often very sloppy.  The narrator tells us that the space probe from the opening crashed because ‘it unexpectedly lost its gravitational force’.  What?  What is that supposed to even mean?  The narrator also tells us it’s been six months since Howard disappeared, then mere minutes later Carol says it’s been four. There’s a bit where Carol is menaced by an iguana… the creature is never actually in the shot with her, so they couldn’t find anything scarier?  The stock wildlife footage on their trek through the soundstage sets of Central America includes hyenas.  I can hear Crow saying, “boy, are we in Afri… wait a minute…”  And, pet peeve, they describe a snake as poisonous instead of venomous.

This being a jungle movie, obviously there are ‘natives’.  I think most of these are actual Mexicans, although Wikipedia says Rodd Redwing may have been from India (if so, I like to think his entire career in Westerns was based on just walking into casting directors’ offices and announcing he was ‘an Indian’, and letting them draw their own conclusions).  Being as this is a movie from the fifties, the natives are there largely to provide a body count – white people aren’t allowed to die until the climax.  To its credit, The Flame Barrier mostly (though not entirely) avoids the trope where the natives have interpreted the mysterious happenings as supernatural, leading the white characters to scoff at the whole thing.  There is some of this, but Dave clearly knows these people well and respects their culture and their warnings.

Then there’s the love story.  Obviously this is a movie, so Carol’s gotta fall for one or other of these idiots, but neither of the Hollister brothers is a good choice. Matt is sweet to her but he’s also a useless drunk who only has a job because his brother puts up with him.  Dave spends eighty percent of the movie being an asshole and I have no idea what Carol sees in him.  At least the two men never fight over her.  I guess the love affair is important to the plot, because it spurs the party on to finish their search for the missing Howard Dalman despite the odds being stacked against them… but that basically boils down to Carol and Dave needing to be sure she’s a widow before they can bone.

After all this messing around in the jungle, with the run time half over we get to the plot, and the movie changes gears with an almost audible ka-chunk.  Now we’ve got this space blob sitting in a cave (how did it get in there when it’s still attached to the rocket?) doubling in size every two hours, which must be destroyed before it can consume the entire earth!  Suddenly we have a laboratory, because all the scientific equipment Howard brought with him is still in perfect condition despite having been sitting in the jungle for either four or six months.  Suddenly Dave the rugged survivalist is a scientist and mathematician.  It’s like they took the same actors and sets and started trying to make a totally different movie.

Honestly, I think this is more or less what happened. I think the multiplying space blob was the movie somebody originally wanted to make – it starts out as a tiny thing in a test tube, growing bigger and bigger until it consumes the whole building and will destroy the entire city if it isn’t stopped!  That sounds like a pretty fun 50’s sci-fi movie in itself. It also, however, sounds like an expensive 50’s sci-fi movie, needing miniatures destroyed and screaming extras and other stuff The Flame Barrier just didn’t have the money for. Hence the need to spend so much time wandering around in the jungle swapping tragic backstories before the characters are allowed to get to that point.

The unfortunate thing about this is that the movie doesn’t really have time to get into the nature of its alien.  In Spacemaster X-7, the Blood Rust was offscreen much of the time but we still had a good idea of what it was and of its capabilities, and the explanations we were given made a reasonable amount of sense.  In The Flame Barrier, we’ve got this blob that apparently lives in the rarified and super-hot outer atmosphere (the writers seem to have confused Earth’s atmosphere with the Sun’s corona), but can also survive on the ground… and its effects are all over the place. Sometimes when things get too close to it, they’re just electrocuted and disintegrated, as happens to the rocket’s original passenger, a very young chimpanzee.  Sometimes people get horribly burned and then burst into flames and are reduced to skeletons hours or days later, as keeps happening to the natives. And then there’s Howard, who somehow managed to get close enough to be swallowed up by the thing and his corpse is still completely intact inside it.

None of this makes any sense.  If the blob has that protective electrocution barrier that the humans must be so careful to avoid, how did Howard get close enough to be trapped in it?  How did the chimp get out to end up wandering around in the jungle?  What the heck is happening to the natives who get burned and then skeletonized and why doesn’t that ever happen to the chimp or any of the main characters?  And how do they manage to kill by electrocution a creature that uses lethal amounts of electricity without any harm to itself?  ‘It’s an alien – we don’t understand it’ can cover a multitude of sins in movie writing, but the blob’s random effects don’t even feel like they could potentially make sense.

The Flame Barrier reminds me of other MST3K movies, too. Prominent among them are It Conquered the World and The Crawling Hand, both of which ended on the same unintentionally depressing note: they suggest that the dangers of going into space are so great that humans will never be able to overcome them.  It Conquered the World tells us that there are eight more Venusians just waiting for their own turn to invade.  The Crawling Hand says that exposure to outer space causes mutations that will turn astronauts into mindless murderers.  The Flame Barrier posits that not only is space itself deadly, but is also full of deadly creatures, and the only way to avoid them is to stay on the ground.

This has always interested me because movies like this stand alongside things like the tales of Rocky Jones, Space Ranger!, in which humans have an exciting future among the stars. Stories set in space can be about either the exhilaration of discovery or the terror of the unknown, and this dichotomy seems to be as old as science fiction – Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is considered the first work of proper sci-fi, and it encompasses both.  Frankenstein tells us that if we let our fear over-rule our curiosity, we’ll miss out on something potentially wonderful.  Movies like The Flame Barrier, and even modern space monster flicks like Alien, seem to say the opposite, that we shouldn’t meddle with the unknown at all.

This movie was kind of a compromise on my part.  I’ve had a lot on my plate lately and I picked The Flame Barrier as a movie that was kinda stupid but wouldn’t be either a test of my endurance or particularly challenging to write about.  I’m hoping to have something a little juicier for you next time.