#vague ideas and a wistful dream

[startographist]

☆ﾟ⁠ . * ･⁠ ｡ﾟDEAR SOULMATE — PROLOGUE I 🪽

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wistful, dreamy, and vague— those are the three words kazuha describes kunikuzushi's pieces. wistful that you can feel the nostalgia by just looking at it, dreamy and vague as if it lets the viewers reciprocate what the piece truly means. 

but one thing about kunikuzushi's pieces that makes them genuinely recognizable is the muse.

in every painting, a muse in white is always included, if it's not the main focus of the piece, the muse is present.

kunikuzushi doesn't know why he paints a specific muse either, he certainly can't say that it's a force of habit or has seen the muse before in fact, the muse is just a product of his void of imagination.

every time that he tries not to paint the muse he either ends up unconsciously painting her or he feels that something is missing...

there's no denying that painting her was an unspoken law itself.

and he dared not to break it.

because from the base of her neck to the arch of her eyelids, her beauty made a slave of him.

 

soulmates. he thought it was worthless.

soulmates are a useless and unpleasant concept, the red string tied to his pinky finger is served as a distraction for him.

and the idea of commitment itself scares him and as if being tied to another is gonna change everything... he's abandoned after all, hope isn't gonna do anything hell— it will crush you to pieces, he knows it too damn well.

but with a red string looped to his finger twitching, he wonders...will his soulmate be the one who'll heal him? some even suggest that the muse in white is his soulmate, whether it's true or not, he doesn't care or so he thinks...

he's in a sheer in denial but one day, he dreams, he'll have his soulmate to dedicate all of his pieces... and so, he secretly waits for that day...

a hint of elegance and serenity, its aroma dancing around her, each sniff leaving a feeling of contentment that made her grin. she can still feel the softness of petals on her fingertips. she admired the sight that made her eyes beam with admiration as she grasped the stem between her index and thumb.

she knelt in front of the flowers, which looked at her with grandeur that she would never achieve. she wasn't bothered by other people's conversations or footsteps since her complete attention was on the flowers in front of her.

they danced whenever the wind was too strong outdoors. the noises of gasping from the women wearing skirts could be heard, but she was unaffected. she desires a stronger breeze so that the flowers can swing gracefully with it. the scarlet string in her pinky twitched, yet she chose to be ignorant as her attention still on flowers.

when one of the petals dropped on her hand, she giggled. It was blue, a colour that many people consider basic, yet any colour mixed with it makes it appear much more lively in her opinion. despite the noises in the distance, she feels as if she's in heaven since everything is just too serene for her.

she worried that the peacefulness will soon be disrupted by unwanted tragedy.

a special butterfly was letting itself arrive and dance with the breeze as the tiny shop's bell chimed. such a small object with a kaleidoscope of colours whirling around it, a tiny work of art that drew her gaze in enjoyment.

as it landed gently on one of the petals, its wings fluttered in a little way. she gazed at it, and no matter how much she deny it, she believe it stared back at her. it soared away, high and free, with one hand rising and her fingertip almost brushing its wings. she wonders oh-so carefully, maybe this butterfly is my soulmate, she thinks.

she runs after the butterfly, ignoring the stares from people who thought it was a childish act. bumping into different people but she paid no mind as her eyes and mind are focused on the little creature that entranced her minutes ago.

then again, the scarlet string started twitching, perhaps glowing.

she ran after it, but she stopped when it landed on someone else. again blue is the color she tends to ignore, but somehow it caught her eye this time on an ordinary day. she got lost and instead stared at those ocean eyes as the man was crouching down and studying the flowers in front of him.

she looks down on her pinky finger again. and there, it glows.

the way the flowers danced once more made everything perfect. there was so much beauty that she felt it was out of this world. at this point, she felt butterflies in her stomach take over her and her emotions.

"woah..." she uttered under her breath, almost as if the scene in front of her had taken her breath away.

her finger landed on one of the petals, his fingertip barely brushing against hers as it was on the other side of the flower, put on another petal. she was so close, yet so far away; if she had only allowed herself to get closer, she might have been able to reach him.

she could've reached towards the beauty itself.

It wasn't the butterfly that drew her attention anymore; instead, it was his figure. His colourslors and build, his physical traits, with his fingertip almost brushing against hers.

Her gaze never broke from his, and as the bell rang again, those stunning eyes finally met hers.

glowing red string,  eyes locked, both bamboozled.

two individuals stare at each other seemingly bewitched to each other.

her, who is hauntingly beautiful, and him who's gorgeous as a porcelain doll...

in the midst of the serenic warmth of inazuma, summer joy filled atmosphere, two individuals are in chase of finding what this all means.

"it's you." he muttered under his breath, cursing at the fact that he feels the nervousness brimming to his nerves.

she shakily stood up, eyes wide in shock. and as funny as it is, she wore a white dress highlighting the fact that the muse in his paintings was not a product of his imagination but is actually his soulmate. this also highlights her beauty even more, with golden hues of warm sun pouring over her figure.

her e/c eyes scanned over his short stature, seemingly entranced at the doll-like features.

"you're pretty..." she breathed.

the first change of words was sure a bittersweet one.

to be entangled with someone forever was already a bittersweet fate.

and yet here they are, ready to face the pre-birth agreement they made...

TAGLIST (open) ; @sakiimeo

NOTES ; uuuuu im so tiredge // credits to yizheng ke on art station on slide one !!

smau by startographist! plagiarizing, distributing and translating without the author's permission is a violation against creative rights.

[gallavictorious]

When do you think they first privately had thoughts about marriage?

Hiya, nonny!

Huh. Good question. I don’t know that I have a proper opinion on this, but let me shake a few words around and we’ll see what falls out:

I don’t think Mickey ever really considered it before it was suggested as a strategy to stay off the stand. He’s done the whole marriage bit, didn’t care for it, and probably never really dared dream that he would one day actually get to marry for love. It was just never an option for him, and he knows enough about marrying for the wrong reasons to immediately reject the idea of getting hitched to Ian simply to stay out of jail. But of course, once he’s convinced (momentarily) that Ian wants to marry for love, he’s all for it. The idea of – for lack of another word – being claimed by Ian like that? Wanted like that? Fuck yeah, he wants that, and once he starts to consider it a real possibility, nothing less will do. But really, I don’t think it was something he ever really considered before 10x07.

Ian, I think, probably always had some vague dreams about getting married. Not in so many words, perhaps, and no big ideas about the wedding itself. It’s not really about marriage, maybe, but just the idea of having this stable, committed relationship that speaks of normality and respectability; sharing such a connection with someone that you’d want to stand up and promise to spend the rest of their lives together? He’d like that! But then Monica’s genes strike and he finds himself in a position where he doesn’t trust himself to promise anyone anything, and whatever half-cooked dreams he’s harboured seem to go out the window. I think he has probably nursed some wistful thoughts on what a future with Mickey might look like – the very quick ‘fuck no’ in response to Lip’s question about if he’s going to marry Mickey to me suggests that he has thought about it (and I think the immediate rejection doesn’t in any way reflect his feelings about being with Mickey – because we know that Ian wants to be with Mickey! – but is a way to protect himself from dreaming of something he believes he can never have). But then comes the whole insane Paula situation and sure he’ll marry Mickey to protect him, but when it becomes not necessary he starts to have doubts: not because he doubts his feelings for Mickey, but because he’s not sure he can live up to what marriage means to him – and he wouldn’t want to let Mickey down (or end up in a situation he’s not comfortable with, which is very healthy and good of him).

Something like that, I think. As always, feel free to chime in with your own thoughts.

[siswritesyanderes]

Ok now that you mention it… yandere Susan is your best friend irl, sure she’s a bit clingy and bossy and touchy but if you’re being honest it makes you feel special. Until one day you’ve been asked out on a date by a man you’re actually interested in and the day of- you wake up in a room which looks… kind of medieval? It’s not even locked, in fact you make it all the way out of the castle before you realise you’ve got no idea where you are… You’re honestly so relived when you find Susan, maybe she knows what’s going on?

This is genuinely brilliant. I love it. Just a heads up: I ended up making the reader female in this one, and looking back at the prompt I now see that that wasn't specifically stated. Sorry about that. I was assuming, and it's hard to go back and use gender neutral language with Narnia in particular because of the whole "Son of Adam" "Daughter of Eve" thing. In the future, what do you think I should go with? "Child of the Ancients" feels too vague, whereas "Child of Adam and Eve" feels too wordy. Anyway. Here it is!

You wished that the room were just unfamiliar.

Well, you wished that it weren't unfamiliar at all; you wished that you were waking in your own room. But if it had to be unfamiliar, you wished that it would be just unfamiliar, and not unfamiliar and bizarre.

The bed was grand; everything in the room was grand, and light flooded in from a pair of opened doors that led out to a balcony, which overlooked a vast forest, and then a vivid blue ocean. It felt like you were inside a storybook castle, and the air above your head was full of flying creatures that didn't look like butterflies but also couldn't reasonably have been anything else.

When the urge to freeze in place yielded to the urge to run, you stumbled out of the ornate bed and discovered that you were wearing a long, medieval-looking nightgown.

As much as this was exactly the sort of thing that could only happen in a dream, your senses felt real, and your surroundings seemed much too inventive and coherent for your brain to have thrown together on a whim.

You ran from the room and found that it was connected to an equally palatial corridor. You didn't see anyone around, despite the vastness of the building you were in. You gravitated to a wall that had windows to outside, and you walked along that same wall until you came upon a door, which was heavy but unbarred. You stepped out, barefoot, onto a stone path.

The outside air was crisp and carried the smell of unfamiliar woods. In the distance, there was a beach. You could see no houses, no city scenery. Only forest, and the castle of a building from which you'd just emerged.

Where on Earth were you?

A song began to ring through the air. You made out the words, "Daughter of Eve, welcome!" It sounded like a chorus of children singing. You looked around wildly for the source of the voices, but you were alone except for a smattering of small birds overhead, whose winding patterns of flight almost resembled an intricately choreographed dance.

You watched and listened for a while, dazed.

"I told them not to startle you," a familiar voice suddenly said, "but they do get excited."

You turned and found that your best friend was here, except instead of her usual sensible skirts and cardigans, she was wearing an opulent dress like something royalty would wear. More opulent than what you had on. Her dark hair fell around her shoulders, shinier and wavier than usual, like she or someone else had dedicated a great deal of effort to it, rather than just the exact amount of attention needed to keep it impeccably tidy.

But it was more than all that. More than her appearance. She looked different.

Susan Pevensie always appeared confident. She had a perpetual look in her eyes as if she knew more than most everyone she came across. She was never disrespectful to those with authority over her, but her disposition towards them always seemed to carry the slightest trace of condescension, nearing wistfulness or pity, as if she were always thinking, You have no idea, do you?

It carried over into your friendship, as well.

You were aware that you sort of let her boss you around a lot, but she was never mean or pushy about it...perhaps because she never had to be. Her air of casual authority, giving no impression of arrogance but of wisdom, was extremely effective on most people she met, and you were no exception. You just happened to be someone she had chosen to also befriend. To link arms with and talk with and listen to. Even as something in her smile had always made you think that your thoughts and your problems seemed so quaint to her, she also always assured you that she wanted to hear them, and she always seemed genuine about it. You spent every day with her, and despite seeming to glide above the trivialities of daily life, Susan never indicated that she did not value her time with you. No, she made you special with her, just by choosing you.

Even if you couldn't plumb the depths of Susan, you knew Susan.

And the Susan you saw before you now...It was like the Susan who lived in the back of her eyes had emerged to the forefront.

The regal bearing, the complete lack of self-consciousness, and that almost wicked bit of sharpness that you saw only on occasion, like when you were late in meeting her at whatever agreed-upon spot, or when some other friend or acquaintance tried to pull you aside when you were already walking with her, or...Well, or just yesterday, when you had told her that Anthony Bridges had asked you on a date and you had said yes.

( "No," she'd scoffed at first, with an amused smile, as if exercising her understood veto privileges. It wasn't until you'd pressed the issue, and insisted that you wanted to go, that you would go, that her eyes had taken on that sharpness, her arguments that ruthless precision.)

This was your first time seeing her since that row, and her smile was utterly beauteous and wickedly sharp. Friendly and almost cruel-looking.

"You look amazing," you told her, gesturing to the gown.

She seemed barely to register the compliment, as though she'd heard it a million times. (She probably had, and in better words.) "You haven't seen yourself," she said, arching an eyebrow playfully. "I've always thought the clothing here would suit you. I shan't feign surprise that I am right once again."

The little birds had started circling you both, each one spiraling around you and up into the air, then back down to circle you again. Again, like an elaborate dance.

"Where are we, Su?" you asked. You didn't normally shorten her name, but you needed the diminutive to make things feel less...important. This all felt very important, and it was scaring you.

"I can tell you the name, but it won't help." As she strode closer, that smile did not change. "It's not on any map that you've seen. This is Cair Paravel, in Narnia. The new Cair Paravel, that is. For years, it stood empty, awaiting the return of the ones who ended the endless winter."

You had never known Susan to tell jokes, but you forced a laugh, hoping this was one.

This succeeded only in changing her smile. Her lips closed over her white teeth and pressed together, a look that seemed mockingly rueful.

"Su, wherever we are...I need to get back home." You almost brought up that you had someplace to be this afternoon, in support of your statement, but just in time you remembered that perhaps you didn't want to rehash your most recent argument.

Susan seemed to read your mind, regardless. "Of course. You have a terribly important outing planned with Anthony Bridges, don't you? How inconsiderate of me, to have forgotten."

Her elegant, lofty tone was not comforting. "This isn't about Anthony. It isn't. This place is just...strange. I don't know how I got here."

"I brought you, of course."

"What do you mean?"

"Do try to keep up," she teased. At a single amused glance from her, the birds dispersed and were soon out of sight and earshot. Susan slipped her arm through yours and led you down a previously unseen path through the woods– an elegant, companionable gesture with a deceptive amount of force behind it. She always had been stronger than she looked. "I thought we needed the time away," she finally said. "You were beginning to get distracted."

"How did you bring me here?"

"Do you truly expect to feel better for knowing? You're here now. And you won't leave until I believe it is time."

Protestations swam through your mind but died on your tongue. This sort of thing was classic Susan. Taking charge, questioning your questions, and telling you how things were going to be, in that calm and reasonable tone that made command sound like mere fact. She was herself, and you knew her. But this was different.

It wasn't entirely a difference in Susan, you realized. The way the world interacted with Susan had changed. There was no tree whose branches skimmed even the edges of her gown; in fact, what seemed at first to be random swaying in the wind was definitely a consistent movement of tree branches out of her path, clearing the way without brushing against her. The light, soundless summery breezes cradled her voice, carrying it in every direction so that it seemed you could hear her in both ears despite her standing on only one side of you, and the sunlight streamed over her through the parting trees and framed her person as though she was something otherworldly. Something holy. The normal shadows one expected to see on a person, underneath the eyelashes or in the crease of the wrist, just weren't there. As if she glowed.

The pair of you broke through the edge of the trees and into a clearing while you were still staring at Susan. You looked away to see your new surroundings, and before you was a short walk to a grassy overhang and, beneath it, a sandy beach and then blue waves as far as the eye could see.

Your jaw dropped.

"I knew you'd admire the view," Susan remarked. "I'd say you'll catch flies like that, but the flies know better."

You closed your mouth and shook your head, still at a loss for words.

"We'll have a stroll here," she mused, "Then luncheon at the palace. After that, I'll show you off to the fauns, the centaurs, and the beavers."

You sighed. Classic Susan. She never asked anything difficult of you. Just that you come when called and stay near her and let yourself be shown off to... "Did you say 'beavers'?"

[paperclipbean]

This is my first ever attempt at fanfic. I've got several ideas for stories; but, I'm starting with an alternate ending to the last 15 minutes. Maybe it's blasphemy. Maybe it's denial. Whatever it is, if it helps me heal, I'm here for it.

THE LAST 15 REIMAGINED

“Oh Crowley, nothing lasts forever,” Aziraphale pleaded, looking longingly at Crowley’s face.

“No. I don’t suppose it does.” Crowley’s face hardened and he lifted his sunglasses. Aziraphale knew what that meant, Crowley was pulling away. What had he said wrong? His thoughts raced back over the conversation; but, he didn’t have time to ruminate. He had to do something. Now. 

“Wait!” 

Aziraphale reached out and placed his hand on Crowley’s chest to stop him from walking away. Crowley froze, glasses half up his face, eyes peering over the tops at Aziraphale, jaw clenched.

“Please wait,” Aziraphale said more softly, “What I mean to say is, nothing on Earth lasts forever. Not the Ritz, or our bench, or my waistcoat,” he chuckled, “Not even my books or this bookstore, even though I wish it could. I love this bookstore. But I…” 

Suddenly his throat was so dry. It was closing up. He tried to swallow and a small choking sound escaped. Crowley lowered his glasses and placed his hand over Aziraphale’s hand on his chest. The contact renewed Aziraphale's determination.

“I love this bookstore. But I love you more,” he blurted out.

Crowley’s eyes watered. He was vaguely aware that time was passing and that something terrible was about to happen if they didn’t act quickly. But, he couldn’t move. Couldn’t look away from those perfect pale blue eyes.

“I— I— ghmmmmm,” a low growl blocked the words from forming. Why was this so difficult? He’d dreamt of this moment for thousands of years. Maybe that was it. It was too fragile, too precious. Releasing this dream into the waking word meant it could be broken. He must protect this dream at all costs. And, he must protect Aziraphale, his angel.

“I can’t let you walk into a trap. They will try and destroy you again. You must know that, right?”

“Possibly. Probably. Yes. Maybe. But that’s beside the point,” Aziraphale shook his head to clear his thoughts,  “I have to try.”

Crowley turned away and ran his hands through his hair. Of course Aziraphale had to try. Of course he believed he could defeat all the odds. Crowley paced. It helped him think.  Defeat the odds for what purpose? To save Earth again? He just said it won’t last forever… He spun back around to face the naive idot,

“Why? Why are you so determined to go back to that toxic place?”

“Well, I would have assumed that was obvious— “ 

A glare from Crowley caused Aziraphale to look at the floor. How did he keep choosing all the wrong words? He took a deep breath and tried again,

“I can make a difference. I can make it truly good — as it should be,” Aziraphale stepped closer to Crowley, “I can make it safe to ask questions. I can make it safe for you.”

Aziraphale reached for Crowley’s hands but Crowley stepped back.

“I thought… after all this time. Do you still not know me? I am not the angel you once knew, Aziraphale. I am something else. I had hoped…” he looked at the floor and summoned courage to finish his thought, “I had hoped you had finally accepted that. Accepted me.” 

“You may be something new; but, you are still, very much so, the angel I’ve always known. You acted like a demon because it was your job and you had to. But I’ve always seen the good inside you. You are creative, and kind, and-“

“And NOT an angel! I don’t want to be. Don’t you get that? You are the exception Aziraphale. You are different. You think for yourself and you actually care about others. Please. Please don’t go back to heaven. They will ruin you.” 

“Even if I were to stay, this wouldn’t be over. Even if we ran away…” a wistful expression crosses Aziraphale’s face then he refocuses, “They aren’t going to leave us alone. They aren’t going to leave Earth alone. I have to do something. I have to try.”

Crowley paces the floor in long cool strides. Aziraphale’s words seep into his brain. Reluctantly, he realizes Aziraphale is right. Neither side is going to let this go. 

Aziraphale has been holding his breath, glancing nervously between the window, the door, and Crowley. 

“Right. We’ll face this together,” Crowley says, still pacing. Aziraphale exhales as Crowley continues, “Just like everything else. It’s nothing new. We just have to stall long enough to come up with a plan.”

[eating-him]

Wizard Cookie, if he was known for anything, was known for knowing things. And if he didn’t know it, he could find it. So of course he knew himself- what self respecting magic user wouldn’t know something as basic as-

“I’m a wizard.” The candy flower reflected his eye back a muddled and distorted purple. “I’m a wizard,” he bit out tightly, “My skills are numerous and of innumerable uses. Surely I can do something here. Like..... weeding.”

The word scraped off of his tongue like something burnt bitter to the pan, and he grimaced. Maybe not weeding.

But there was so much to do in the little kingdom, and all of it was trees and hammers and the swanforsaken screech of saws. Houses and businesses and farms and roads- he was still getting used to the idea of sitting patiently under the open sky with wildflowers, fresh out of the burning oven with a conveniently acquired wand and his dough not even cool. So much running. So much fighting.

A wizard is too wise for panic. Panic comes from a lack of planning, and he always has a plan. Or at least Gingerbrave has the start of one and Wizard pops all the dents out of it. He is an advisor, and this is a new nation toddling its first few steps out of being a pile of rubble. He is where he needs to be. He is.

Something itches underneath his soul jam, though. Like a scarf pulled too tight, like late nights watching for cakehounds that become early days, an unsettling buzz that sets his leg jittering and his staff rolling against his palm in a habit he should really break.

The flower he’s staring at glazes over with frost, and he jerks upright at the reflection of Frost Queen Cookie’s ornate collar past his shoulder.

“Deep thoughts?”

He has no idea how to react to a legendary figure of myth popping up behind him, but sitting on the ground like an idiot isn’t- but she isn’t his queen- does she even expect-? When he twists around to look up she’s not there, but wandering a little towards the treeline, head tipped up to watch the blueberry birds as the icy patches of her footsteps glimmer in the spring light. Close enough for conversation, but far enough to ignore.

She’s... breathtaking, honestly. Everything a legend should be, with that same vaguely wistful air that White Lily seems to carry like the hues of a watercolor dream. Frost Queen had taken his place as the front line magic user for expeditions, and he couldn’t exactly complain. She was quite literally a force of nature, it was no slight to bow to his elders here. What Custard could have possibly done to convince someone practically a god to linger was beyond him, but. Here she was. And here he was.

A meadow where the gnash of saws like teeth wasn’t quite so loud.

The frost had melted from the flower by his foot by the time he remembered her question. Deep thoughts... he settled back to sitting in the grass, the brim of his hat low and hunched. “I suppose one could say that. Not so much thoughts as a feeling, but it’s nothing fresh air can’t fix.”

Frost Queen’s scent is barely there, hardly distinguishable from the wind. Like a ghost. There’s something, though, subtle and sweetly cold, and he tracks her progress around the meadow as the flower nearby frosts over with her attention.

“...feelings are not a thing that can be nailed or wrapped,” the goddess murmurs, and despite the quiet his attention drags to her like a compass point. “You wear a lot of stars for someone sitting in the dirt, little cookie.”

“Beg pardon?” His brow lifts. He may be a wizard, but what cryptic nonsense is this? “I assure you I keep very clean.”

There’s a small little smile on her frost-blue lips, something fey and too amused to mean anything good, but he’s not sure how to take any of this when she’s still watching the birds. “I would hope so.” The Frost Queen’s eyes slip from the blue sky to lock with his own, and he’s falling into the glassy quiet of eternity with the rug pulled out from under him, naked under all the scarves and robes and useless shield of hair.

He doesn’t even realize she’s asked him a question as the answer bubbles out of him in a soda stream. “I- I came out here to think, it’s too much not...” He doesn’t have the words for it, gestures a little with the staff- “Me, too much building, I can’t. Think.”

His cheeks are burning like he’s fresh from the fire as he tries to collapse into his collar like powder snow. Awkward, awkward, awkward, he is supposed to be a-

“Wizard Cookie, I would appreciate your thoughts on a matter.” Frost Queen turns then, back towards the rest of the soon-to-be village, snowflakes glittering like diamonds in her hair. Foundations litter the area, cookies working hard at the stumps of trees, castle ruins and the vague shapes of what might be a ruined mine jutting from the hills that border their little territory. A fine place with plenty of potential, if a few too many squirrels- and a lot of sunshine. “I will be making my own home here, but I will need something... temporary, until the castle is clear enough for guests. Where would you recommend building with ice?”

Ice? Here? He wouldn’t. But her footsteps do take awhile to thaw, and those seem to be by accident. So. He latches into the problem, mapping their little homestead with a critical eye and a thoughtful thump of his staff as he stands to get a better look. “Considering the lay of the valley I’m not sure I recommend building with ice here, per se- maybe someday when the city grows enough to reach those mountains there-“ his staff points east a bit, “But if you’re making it now I’d say the northern edge near the mine? Denser pine trees and a hill should keep the worst of Spring off of you, milady, and you might even build into whatever caves exist under it. Of course, that depends on-“

He chatters on while she listens to him wax rhapsodic about architecture and temperature control, staff swinging wider as he gets into the thick of whether or not her little cottage needs a steep roof. By the time he’s done he blinks back to himself standing by the mine cave under the pines with her hand on his shoulder to keep him from wandering off, lines of frost curling out into the trees from her feet. When Wizard’s voice falters, startled, she lets him go to begin trying whatever he’d been so intent on. The startle jostled it out of his head, but there’s a focus to the way her eyes trail over the forest here. Did he teach her something?

The thoughts get knocked out of his head again when she nudges him a step back, and the ice blooms.

Frost-ferns curl into lattices and frames, sheets as thin as sugar-glaze rising over his head like crystals sped forward in time. The sound is indescribable, a heavy creak and groan as the cruel teeth of winter bend like flower petals to the might of nature’s guardian. In minutes, it begins to settle in place, frost swirling out in little decorative patterns as the queen paces her modest, raw-magic floor.

He sees the expression on her face when she touches the ground and a chair blooms from nothing but a wish, mist curling around her cheeks and chill light giving her ghost-pale cheeks strange liveliness. She is alive, here, and.... she looked at that simply conjured ice throne the way Custard looked at his ramshackle little town. Softly. Like a key finding home in a perfect lock. Like love, maybe.

She thanked him for his help, but he wasn’t honestly sure how much help he’d been as she opened the new frosted door to let him out into Spring again, and he turned with a half-formed question on his tongue.

The Frost Queen smiled, and he lost the thought.

“I don’t think avoiding building is what you need right now, little cookie. A star to the sky, a bird to the nest. What are you?”

He stared. “I’m a wizard.”

“Then be one, Wizard Cookie.” Her cold lips curved up in something he couldn’t actually believe was a laugh- her, laughing- and the door shut with the subtle click of a world changing.

A star to the sky, a bird to the nest.

A land to make home.

Wizard Cookie went to find himself a tower.

[andraaste]

I am not your enemy - Lance fanfiction part 14

And finally, it’s doooone ! Forgive me for the wait 💕

Chapter 14 : I just stopped hoping for your awakening

- Andraste, is everything okay ? Nevra asked, somewhat surprised at my sudden reaction.

I was about to tell him that it was none of his business when the pain, much more throbbing, resumed again, literally cutting my breath. Without warning, panic started to take me over and it was with confusion that I stood up and dodged his piercing gaze as he remained leaning over me, being too ashamed to tell him everything that was wrong with me.

The vampire still maintained the idea of ​​helping me to stand up completely and, when his hand finally let go of my shoulder, I immediately stepped back in order to establish sufficient distance between us, which didn’t escape him.

- Yes, it's nothing, I finally replied, feigned levity.

Falling back into the void, his hand remained inert along his side as his mouth opened and closed again without any sound coming out.

A wind much colder than before I fell asleep began to blow between us, causing my hair to fly and goosebumps on my bare arms. In order to warm myself up, I put my hands on them as the chills that ran through my skin burned my back unpleasantly.

I think my head was starting to spin.

- Are you sure everything is fine ? Didn't you hurt yourself somewhere or anything ?

- No, don't worry, I replied quickly. I hadn't planned to doze off here, the ground was too hard and I must have hurt a bit, but nothing serious.

I especially didn't want Nevra to know what was happening to me, I didn't think I would be able to bear this shame again in the eyes of another person.

Much to my dismay, the vampire didn't seem convinced. He took a step in my direction, reducing the distance I had deliberately created. An eyebrow raised, his gaze fell on mine.

- Do you know that I still know you by heart ? I can see you're in pain, there's no point in trying to hide it from me.

I breathed out as much air as possible against my poor acting skills. He would never let go, I was sure.

We had left each other angry earlier, though, so why didn't he take his eyes off me right now ? I felt confused, I didn't know how to react.

What's more, I had to admit that I was seriously starting to wonder if constantly blowing hot and cold wasn’t an Eldaryan custom.

Or maybe I was drawn to complicated relationships, who knows.

- Really, it's my luck, I said ironically. So you decided that I existed in your eyes, today ?

His features imperceptibly hardened as his gaze darkened so quickly that I thought I was dreaming for a moment.

- Andraste...

- What Nevra ? Are you going to tell me to pretend nothing has happened ? I was starting to get carried away. It's all well and good to behave towards me as you see fit, but it doesn't work that way.

It was his turn to exhale for a long time. Coming even closer, he took me completely by surprise, lowering his head until he came to rest his forehead against my shoulder, his dark hair brushing my shoulder blade. I remained frozen in place, unable to make the slightest movement as his breath caressed my skin.

I could no longer get my ideas clear.

- Listen, I don't know how to behave when I see you anymore, he finally blurted out, his voice slightly muffled by his probably uncomfortable position. You were the center of my world and overnight I had to relearn how to evolve without you by my side. Everyone was only talking about your sacrifice, he almost spat, but all I wanted was for you to come back to me.

He slowly lifted his head from my shoulder and came back to fix his gaze on mine. I was hanging from his lips, totally mesmerized by the words he finally addressed to me.

- Every day, for a little over a year, I didn’t stop making this wish, however selfish. Sometimes I would spend hours watching you, convincing myself that at any moment you were going to wake up. Except that it never happened, he added quietly, as if saying it out loud could shatter the dreams of this memory of him. I ended up decreasing over time my visits to the Crystal Room, I could no longer distinguish a vague sleeping figure. So to protect myself, I think I just stopped hoping for you to wake up.

The emotion Nevra was feeling at that moment overwhelmed me. I suspected that he must have suffered from this situation, but given his behavior towards me since I woke up, I had difficulty in realizing how he felt. On the other hand, I hadn’t imagined for a single second that it could still affect him at this point now.

- I didn't know all this, Nevra, you never told me about it until now. I never imagined you could feel this, I'm so sorry...

A wistful smile appeared on his lips.

- It's in the past now, even if I don't hide from you that I thought I had serious hallucinations when I saw you again.

Following these words, the vampire leaned down until his face was only inches from mine, allowing me to admire his scarred gaze under his thick black hair.

- I was a complete idiot to you, Andraste. I only took my feelings into account regardless of yours, but it was the only way I found to protect myself again. I'm terribly sorry, you absolutely don’t deserve this indifference, he confessed to me while placing a light and icy hand on my cheek. I hope you will forgive me.

Nevra was standing close, way too close for my breathing to calm down. I swallowed the air with more and more difficulty and, seized by strong emotions, the currents of energy began to circulate again in anarchy under my skin.

The young man finally withdrew his hand before standing up to his full height. Looking up at the sky, he quickly returned to plant them in mine with deep attention.

- Night has almost fallen, we better get back to HQ, he said softly.

I nodded and turned in the direction of HQ when his hand grabbed my arm the same way it had several hours earlier.

I was taken aback to find that his face had suddenly closed completely, brows furrowed.

- You're bleeding, what's happening to you ?

I widened my eyes.

- What ?

- I can smell your blood, it's not normal, he explained to me while making me rotate back to him.

Instinctively, I slapped a hand on the small of my back as my fingers slid over the thick streaks of liquid that flowed against my top.

No.

Not now, it wasn’t possible.

Nevra only took a fraction of a second to react when he saw my fingers red with hemoglobin.

A strong concern marked the tone of his voice as he spoke again :

- What's the matter with your back ? You tell me that everything has been fine since earlier, and now you start to piss blood !

- It's nothing serious, I promise. I just have to go see Eweleïn, she'll know what to do.

I still had the words he'd had when he saw me come out of the infirmary, but I think I just had no choice but to have to go back.

- I'll take you there immediately.

Binding action to word, he grabbed me under the knees and lifted me off the ground to carry me in his arms. The journey was surprisingly short to the entrance of the large building of the HQ while the abundant loss of blood finally got the better of my lucidity.

When they reached the door of the infirmary, Nevra began to pound forcefully on the door. It opened wide, revealing an Eweleïn with suddenly astonished features.

- Nevra, what happened to her ?

The vampire quickly explained the facts to her as he laid me down on the bed. The ground was turning dangerously, or maybe it was just my head that couldn't follow.

- Turn around, the nurse ordered him with authority, before leaning over me. Andraste, we're going to have to take this garment off.

I let her withdraw my sticky top without flinching before falling into a deep sleep.

*

I blinked several times in an attempt to focus, only seeing blurry elements around me. It was far from the first time I had woken up in this bed in the past few days and it made my lips pursed in frustration.

How did I end up in the infirmary again ?

Head heavy, I struggled to sit up on the soft mattress, looking for any sign of life in the room. But no one seemed to be standing here. Swallowing my saliva with difficulty, I realized that my throat was so dry that no sound could have come out anyway immediately, I felt like I had swallowed razor blades.

Feeling obstructed, I lifted my top and found a large bandage wrapped around my chest, with red spots marking the fabric as far as I could see. I was really hoping that my miraculous healing system had reactivated, like the time my stomach wound closed on its own in a very short time, because I wasn’t going to put up with this situation much longer. Moving slightly, I noticed that the pain had practically disappeared. I lowered the garment over my wounds then stood up slowly. The world was still spinning a little too fast for my liking, but I felt fit to get out of here.

I was finishing putting on my shoes when the door finally opened, revealing a long white hair in my field of vision.

- Oh hello Andraste, you're finally awake. How do you feel ? the elf asked with a soft smile.

- Hello Ewe, I think I’m okay. I’m not feeling at my best, but I’m no longer in pain.

- Perfect, I'll give you a quick test but I think you're fit to go out.

Sitting back on the bed, I let the nurse auscultate me without batting an eyelid.

- Your back is much better, even your skin has started to reform normally. I hope this story of stuck wings will get better soon.

- Oh reassure you, I hope so too, I said in a mirthless laugh. Can I go, now ?

- Yes, just a second.

She grabbed the same jar of cream as the last time and handed it to me, a smile on her lips.

- Here, you’ll have to brush your back with this until your skin is better.

- Very good, but it may be rather complicated, since it’s not an area necessarily accessible for me...

I saw Eweleïn's smile widen even more.

- Oh, I understood that someone could take care of it for you, but if it doesn't, you just have to come see me and I'll take care of it.

I narrowed my eyes at her suspicious expression.

- What are you talking about ?

- Nothing at all, and hurry up to see me if it starts again, don't wait any longer to bleed ! Come on, go, she ordered me with a wink.

Too tired to try to understand, I opened the door to rush into the hallway. But how long had I slept, exactly ? It was still dark !

Entering the guard corridor, I walked past several doors until I reached Lance's room, just before mine. I paused for a moment, hesitating, observing thoughtfully the image of the dragon towering over it at full length. Was he busy, right now ?

Heart pounding, I was about to knock when my arm caught in the air.

I didn't have to turn around to see who it was, letting myself be completely taken in by his mere presence.

- Good evening, my little dragon, his voice whispered with an amused grin.

Light streaks of ice were already drawing a multitude of abstract shapes on my skin as my lips stretched on their own.

Giving way to a huge smile on my face.

(Chapter 15)

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

As Usual

Pairing: Mando x Reader

Summary: When Mando finds himself in need of some help in a tiny village on Arbiflux, he may leave with more than he expected. 

Warnings: Violence, mentions of sexual assault (or at least alluding to it), a lot of unimportant OC’s with names to fill the town

Word Count: 5700

A/N: This is my first Mando fic so I’m really sorry if it sucks. I tried though and if you guys enjoy this, I have an idea for another one.

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The Mandalorian caught your attention the moment he walked into your family’s blacksmith shop. Tall, angular, and mysterious, the man landed his ship in the large clearing just on the other side of the river from where your town was and made his way across the utilitarian wooden bridge directly to the shops. You watched in curiosity as this new stranger made his way into your village, a small bundle of something you couldn’t make out walking right next to him. 

You had heard stories of the Mandalorians and the Great Purge, though you were no expert by any means on anything other than simply knowing they existed. Seeing one in person though felt surreal. For all you’d known, they’d been killed off years ago. But apparently not all because one was approaching you quickly. 

“Can I help you?” You asked, taking your worn protective leather gloves off and walking towards the open mouth of your family’s forge where the Mandalorian had approached. 

“I need a part for my ship to be fixed.” He answered shortly in a vaguely robotic voice. 

Tousling your fingers through your locks, you attempted to blindly force the stray hairs into place, “Well, we don’t get too many visitors with ships here. Your best bet for finding someone who can fix your ship would probably be in the city.” 

“Where is the nearest city?” He questioned, lifting a small bundle of tan fabric off the ground. Your brows furrowed when you saw that there was a small wrinkly green baby but the Mandalorian tucked the child further into his chest, almost shielding him from your view for some odd reason. 

Writing the action off, you pointed to your right with your thumb, “About ten miles west.” 

“How long is it to travel?” 

“On foot, about four hours. With a kaadu, maybe two.” You explained, gesturing to the large reptilian creatures in the pens around town. Mando sighed heavily and you got the impression he was on a limited time constraint, “What do you need fixed?” 

The man shifted, “The ventilation system. The fins on the fan are damaged, blocking it from spinning. The oxygen is hardly circulating throughout the ship.” 

“Broken fins? They metal?” You asked, to which the man just nodded, “I might be able to help if that’s the only problem. Can I see?” 

The Mandalorian led you back to his ship and you walked inside, skin crawling with excitement. You’d never been on a ship before. Like you’d told the man earlier, they never really landed in your little village and you seldom traveled to the bigger cities. It was like a metal maze, cramped but still somehow roomy enough to be comfortable. 

You took in your surroundings as he led you through the small hallways, stopping when you saw an almost book-like assortment of massive sheets of a black substance with what appeared to be carvings of screaming people. An uneasiness settled in the air that the Mandalorian noticed, glancing back over his shoulder to see you looking at his assortment of bounties that had been frozen in Carbonite. Since people had come after him, he wasn’t really sure what to do with the criminals he had yet to deliver but the thought was always pushed off. It wasn’t like they were going anywhere. 

“They’re alive. Just should have cooperated.” Your brows furrowed in confusion at his words so he continued reluctantly, “Bounties.” 

“Oh, you’re a bounty hunter?” You asked, relaxing slightly. Knowing that whoever these people were were both criminals and still alive, you felt a little better. They must have been pretty bad people if they had bounties on their heads. 

You were far from naive but you weren’t well experienced in matters of the universe. Arbiflux had been your only home, and, even then, you seldom left your small village. Always work to do, anything to help your family. You’d always dreamed of adventure though, getting off the forested planet and exploring the galaxy. The Mandalorian must have travelled all over the galaxy in his line of work and seen so much. It made you envious. You took his silence to your first question as an agreement so you continued, “I’d imagine work would have taken you all over the place. I’ve never left this planet. Hell, I’ve only ever left the village a handful of times.” 

“I have been to quite a few planets.” His modulated voice humored your musings, turning to continue his way to the ventilation system. 

You trailed behind, vague metal echoes following your boot covered footsteps, “What are they like?” 

“A lot of desert planets. Some have swamps. Some have forests. Some are just cities. A few are all ice. Some are a combination.” As he spoke, you fantasized about all the planets that could be out there. You had done so many times before and every time the new planets became more and more fantastic, sometimes to an unrealistic degree. But how could anything be unrealistic when you didn’t really know the constraints of reality in your own universe? 

“I’ve always wanted to see them.” You mused out loud, “Your ship is really nice by the way.” 

Mando looked back at you and, although you could see no hint of expression behind the helmet you immediately recognized as being made from beskar, he had an eyebrow cocked at you. It didn't sound like you were making fun of him but he knew the Razor Crest was anything but. "You haven't seen many ships before, have you?" 

 With a small shrug and slightly twisted face, you shook your head, "We don't get too many people coming through town and I don't make it into the city often." 

Mando almost felt bad for you. He had learned how to read people easily and you were an open book. It was in the way you stood, the words you spoke, the way your eyes twinkled in amazement at the smallest things on his ship. You were a girl who loved her family and had a sense of duty to them. He assumed by the look of the shop you worked in that blacksmithing was a generational career, probably dating back to your grandparents, at least. He could see the love for your community and home but he also saw a fire for adventure, for anything other than what you knew. With every word, every little subconscious movement, his image of you became clearer and clearer. 

"This is the fan." Mando stopped suddenly and pointed to an open panel in the ship's wall. You halted quickly, having almost forgotten why you entered the Razor Crest to begin with. "The rest of the system works. I was able to fix the wiring. It's just this part here that was damaged and now it won't rotate. It won't circulate the oxygen." 

He stepped to the side, allowing you to step in and inspect the damage. It was a long cylindrical metal piece with five slanted blades evenly spaced around the circumference. There was a mechanism in the middle that led you to assume that it spun around on some metal rod and the blades circulated the oxygen throughout the ship. Sure enough, two of the blades were bent and crumpled, so much so that when you gave the device a little test nudge to see if it would spin at all, it only rotated an inch or so before the crumpled fans hit another part of the system with a klink, preventing it from moving more. 

"As long as these just need to be flattened and straightened out, this should be a breeze. I could have it done by the end of the day." You continued to inspect the blades to get a full understanding of the damage. "So what happened to it anyway?"

"There was an altercation on board with a passenger. A stray shot from her gun hit the panel that used to cover this and it bent everything up." Mando remembered the fight with the Twi'lek woman. She was a fellow bounty hunter, yet another person who wanted the money for the Child. 

The slight black scar from the laser on the wall confirmed the report and you ran your finger over the smudge, curious to see if it would wipe away. It didn't. "Sounds like such an interesting life." 

“You said you could have it done by the end of the day?” The Mandalorian ignored your wistful comment and set the Child on the ground, making sure he stayed in eyesight. He didn’t see you as someone who would harm the baby but he also couldn’t be sure after everything that had happened. 

You nodded, “Yeah, this looks pretty simple. But you’re going to have to take it apart. I have no clue how any of that works and I don’t want to be responsible if it breaks.” 

“That’s no problem.” The Mandolorian stepped over and pulled on a few wires, disconnected a few fuses, and before you knew it, the overall fan had dislodged from its place with a hiss of decompression. He turned it in his hands until he found the button he had to push to unlock the mechanism holding each blade in place. It took no time before he handed you the broken blades one by one. 

You held the blades in your arms, moderately sized at about 18 inches long and 9 inches across. Leaning forward, you inspected the intact ones to get an idea of how these needed to be shaped. “Well, there’s not much to do in the village while you wait, I’m afraid. There’s a little bar you could hang out at I suppose. They serve some decent food.”

“Thank you. I’ll be around.” He responded in his typical concise manner. 

The blades really were quick work, like you’d expected. What took the longest was the order you had before, which was making the metal wedges of Naz Ta’ron’s ridge plow that he’d ordered to be made last week. Farm equipment made up most of your work, unfortunately, aside from the occasional weaponry. The weaponry never took too long, definitely not as much as you’d like. Making swords and hatchets was a hell of a lot more interesting than manufacturing plows and wheels. 

By the time the sun had just begun to set, you had finished the third blade, dipping the last blazing orange, newly repaired fan blade into the large bucket of water, bubbles sizzling aggressively at the contact with the nearly molten metal and cooling it rapidly. After setting it down on the workbench to cool, you untied your leather smock and brushed the loose strands of hair out of your face. As far as you could remember, these looked exactly like the intact fans back on the ship, though in better condition. You had no idea what they looked like new but this had to be close. 

*

Throughout the day, you’d watched from afar as the Mandalorian had wandered through the booths before returning to the ship with what you presumed to be a basket full of supplies. That was earlier in the day and he’d since been waiting in the bar you’d told him about earlier. You powered down the forge and gathered the fans before walking over to the bar. It was only a few buildings down, no more than a few hundred feet away, so the walk was quick. People meandered around town on their usual paths, the ones you came to know each person in the small village to take by heart.

When you entered the bar, the usual people were in there. K’jann Ving, Jared Amavia, and Haera Kiwai all sat in their usual seats with their usual drinks. All so usual. The only thing out of place was the Mandolorian sitting at the booth in the corner with his little baby whatever-he-was. 

He noticed you enter right away, which wasn’t saying much considering the small size of the room. You walked right up to the table, “Fans are all finished up. Figured I’d drop them off.” 

You placed the sheets of metal on the table. The Mandolorian reached down beneath the table and pulled out a small brown bag, “How much?” 

“30 credits?” You estimated, not really knowing how to price such a repair. Compared to other weapon repairs, though this was only slightly more because there were more than one things needing repairing. 

The Mandolorian began to sift through his bag, presumably counting out the coins. The little green baby by his side stared up at you with adorable large eyes and cooed. You couldn’t help the smile that crept on your face when his tiny arms reached out towards you, though you made no move to pick him up, opting to give him a tiny wave instead. Babies had always seemed to like you. Your nieces and nephews had loved you from the moment they were born. 

A commotion sounded from outside the bar that stole your attention away from your payment and the Child. Your brows furrowed when you made eye contact with K’jann, who looked equally as confused as you did. Jared stood up from his spot at the bar and walked to the door, “What the hell is going on out there?” 

Before he could find an answer, a bright flash of light struck him in the chest and he fell, lifeless. You shrieked and jumped at the unexpected attack. “Get down!” The Mandolorian demanded, pulling you closer to him before shoving the table over. He pushed you to the ground, scooped the child up, and placed him beside you hurriedly before you could comprehend what was happening. You were lying on the ground on your back, using the table as a wall of sorts to shield from the gun shots that were assailing towards you. 

“Protect the Child!” The Mandolorian demanded of you, his voice surprisingly calm considering he had just been randomly attacked. 

The baby reached up and clung to your shirt, struggling to pull himself up into your arms for protection. You reached around his body and scooped him up, flinching when a blast of laser zinged a little too close to your face for comfort. 

“You’ve been a hard one to reach, Mando. You could’ve just given us the Child and it would all be done with but now we’re gonna kill you, take the kid, and your shiny armor.” A man’s voice taunted from the other side of the table barricade. 

What the hell kind of trouble was this guy in?! 

The Mandolorian jumped over the table and you reached out for him, his cape slipping through your fingers as he disappeared into the fight “Wait!” You called out to now avail. What the hell was he doing? There were a few grunts and groans. The laser blasts stopped being directly in your direction and began to be shot more erratically around the room. 

“Get him out of here!” The Mandolorian’s modulated voice yelled at you from the other side. 

This was it. You were going to die. This was what you got for craving adventure. 

The baby squirmed against your body, making little fearful noises. Rolling over onto your knees, you scooped up the baby and held him tightly against your chest before reaching into your pocket and procuring a blaster. Peeking around the corner of the table first to ensure that it was clear to run, you took off like a bullet, darting as quickly as possible to the door. 

The Mandalorian was fighting against two humans, a Rodian, and a Cerean woman at once. It appeared like he had them until the massive Cerean woman pinned him on the table, hand crushing over a part of his forearm that he seemed in a struggle to have access to. 

You didn’t know anything about this man other than the fact that he was a bounty hunter with a broken ventilation system. Why did you want to help him? Why were you putting your life on the line to aid him when you knew damn well he could very clearly be in the wrong? Why did you trust him so much when you knew literally nothing about him? 

The Cerean woman fell on top of the Mandalorian the moment you pulled the trigger. He groaned at the heavy weight but used her body to knock one of the human men down. He quickly tapped on his forearm, right where the woman had been pressing, and a large flame shot out towards the Rodian, who shielded his face. 

You began to run towards the door again, so close to escaping with the child, but something hard suddenly knocked your feet out from under you and you crashed to the ground with a painful thud. You clutched the baby close to your chest as you fell, using your body to shield him from the impact. Your eyes opened to see a tall Zabrak woman that you hadn’t seen previously standing over you. 

“Aw, Mando! Using some little village girl to save the kid? That’s a new level of low.” She chuckled sadistically, rolling her eyes from the Mandalorian and back to you, “Sorry, babe, you don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into. Hand over the kid so I don’t have to kill you.” 

You froze in fear for a moment, brain stuck buffering in a desperate attempt to comprehend the situation you were in. 

“Guess I have to kill you.” She continued with an unapologetic shrug after only a second or two. She had a large staff in her hand that she spun around with skill, picking up enough momentum for the black metal rod to look like a blur, before slamming it down right where your head was. Thankfully, you rolled to the side just in time for the stick to slam into the ground with enough force that it very easily could have killed you. 

Without a second thought, you aimed the blaster that was still in your hand just in time and shot her square in the chest. Her body crumpled into a heap of black robes, her staff clattering to the ground. It took you a moment to realize that the commotion had ceased. 

The Mandalorian hurried over to you, “Are you okay?” 

Your whole body was shaking but you nodded, adrenaline pumping through your veins, “What the hell was that about?” You demanded, sitting up finally. When you looked around, you noticed that everyone who had attacked was dead. The other patrons of the bar had seemed to escape. 

Mando reached to take the kid from your grasp but stopped when he noticed how the small alien snuggled into your body like it was the safest place in the galaxy. You looked down to inspect his little body for injuries but he thankfully appeared unharmed. “I’ve been quested to bring him to the Jedi. He was originally a bounty I was supposed to bring in but I learned that the man who wanted him was going to hurt him. I couldn’t give him up. It’s my duty to protect him. People all over the galaxy like this have been trying to get the bounty on both of our heads.” 

“What’s so special about him?” The baby looked like any other baby alien. You hadn’t necessarily seen many baby aliens but this one didn’t seem particularly extraordinary. 

“I honestly don’t know for sure. I do know he can do things with his mind when he wants to, though. I figure it has something to do with that.” He extended a hand, pulling you up to your feet, “I’m sorry you got involved.” 

You shook your head slightly, looking around at the bodies littering the bar, two of which you were responsible for killing, “You said they were going to hurt the baby?” You asked rhetorically, “It’s no problem.” 

“Do all small town blacksmiths just carry blasters on them?” He asked, nodding towards the gun that was still in your hand. 

You tucked it away again, “We’ve gotten a few less than pleasant visitors from neighboring cities and towns. Just some jerks who come to town looking to pick a fight with the men or take what they want from the women. Pull out a blaster, it’ll usually put them in their place.” 

Mando thought about what that actually meant for a moment and a few more pieces of the puzzle that was you began to click together in his head. He couldn’t help but wonder how many times you’d had to pull the gun on a man who was trying to take advantage of you and the thought made his heart sink. He didn’t know you nearly at all but nobody deserved that. There was a twinge of protectiveness in his chest that made him want to track down anyone who’d ever threatened that sort of harm to you and show them just how good at killing the Mandalorians really were. 

There wasn’t time for that, though. If these five bounty hunters were here by now, there’d be more soon. He couldn’t risk getting caught up with any more people who wanted to take the Child. “Well you’re a good shot,” He complimented with a small nod of his helmet, “Anyways, we need to take off now. If they already knew we were here, others will be here soon. You said the parts were ready?” 

You nodded, “They were. I’m not exactly sure where they are now, though.” Your face twisted as you gestured around the freshly wrecked bar, furniture pieces just as strewn out of place as the cups and plates that were on them.

The two of you looked around for the fans and people from around town slowly funnelled into the bar, also helping to clean up the debris from the attack. “You need to go.” Zim Golu, the bar’s owner stood over Mando, who was crouched down to pick up one of the fans that he’d finally found. Zim Golu’s arms were crossed, his cheek bleeding from being hit with something during the fight. 

“I’m sorry about the damage,” Mando stood up, “I just need to find a part for my ship and we’ll be off this planet as soon as it’s installed.” 

Zim Golu stepped closer, “I don’t care about your part. I want you out of my bar.” 

You looked over from the next table over, setting down the chair you had picked up where it was supposed to be. “What’s the problem?” You questioned, walking over to the pair with furrowed brows. 

“There’s no problem.” Mando responded calmly, “We’ll be leaving as soon as I find the pieces I need.” 

“No, he’ll be leaving now.” 

The Child, who had been wandering around the building while you all cleaned, came up and held onto your leg. You glanced down before gently running your fingers over his head. “We cannot leave without these pieces. The oxygen can’t move through the ship without them. We barely made it here as it was.” Mando again was calm but insistent. 

“What don’t you understand, Mando? Look at the trouble you’ve caused my bar and this whole town.” Zim Golu clearly had no intention of backing down, despite the fact that the intimidating Mandalorian towered over him. 

You stepped forward and extended your arm between the men, “Mando, why don’t you go back to the ship and wait there. I will look for the pieces and deliver them when I find them.” You sent Zim Golu a look that told him that that was what was going to be what happened, whether he liked it or not. “How’s that?” 

The bar owner shot Mando a dirty look before pointing to the door, “Don’t come back to this place again.” 

Mando stood strong and emotionless under the shield of beskar and stared down Zim Golu as he walked away. 

“I’ll meet you at your ship in a few. We’ve already found two so the last one shouldn’t take long to find.” Mando looked down at you while you spoke. You handed him the first two fans you found, “Maybe you can get these installed while you wait. I’m sorry about Zim Golu. He’s always cranky.” 

“No, I understand. I’d be mad if my bar was destroyed by strangers too. Thank you for looking. We’ll be on the ship,” He beckoned for the Child to follow him out the door but the baby was hesitant, only wanting to be near you for some reason, “C’mon.” Mando picked up the baby and carried him out. 

Finding the last fan was more difficult than you had hoped. When the table was pushed over, it had been kicked under a shelf in the corner and it took you lying face down on the ground to finally see it. 

When you got to the ship, you awkwardly stepped up onto the ramp that led up to the Razor Crest and just up to the entrance of the main hull, “Uh, hello? Mando? It’s Y/N. I found the fan.” You announced, looking around while you waited for the man to appear before entering the ship. 

He climbed down a small ladder and approached you. You extended the fan blade out to him, “Here it is. Sorry it took so long.” You apologized, following Mando as he took off down the hall towards the ventilation system. “How did the other two fit? Is it working?” 

He stopped by the busted open wall panel that was supposed to conceal the ventilation system and pulled out the cylindrical piece that the blades attached to. He slipped the last one into place and it fit perfectly, “They fit nicely. Now we just need to see if it works.” He slid the mechanism back into place and reattached all the wires that he’d removed earlier. “Stay here and tell me if it spins properly. I’ll head up to the cockpit and activate it.” 

With that, he disappeared before you could protest (not that you were going to) up to where you assumed the cockpit was. You waited patiently until the low hum of the ventilation system kicked on and the fan began to rotate without a hitch. The Child waddled around the corner and right to you, arms up, asking to be held. You lifted him into your arms with a smile and held up your palm to him, “We fixed it! High five, buddy. Or, well, high three, I guess.” You chuckled, counting his fingers. The baby didn’t understand what you were trying to achieve so you gently tapped the palm of your hand against his in a forced high five. 

“Is it working?” Mando’s robotic voice asked from behind you and you spun around to face him. 

You nodded, “Everything’s looking good.” 

Mando immediately noticed the Child in your arms but, for once, he didn’t tense up at it. You felt safe, which perhaps was an error to assume such characteristics, but he couldn’t help it. Besides, he’d never seen the Child so affectionate with anyone other than himself. “Thank you for all of your help. I’m sorry about the trouble we brought with us.” 

“It’s no problem. If I’m being honest, it was kind of thrilling.” You chuckled, looking away with a small blush. That probably made you sound crazy. 

A silence settled over the two of you and Mando watched as your attention quickly turned back to the Child in your arms. “He really likes you.” Mando noted, “He’s not usually like that.” 

A small smile appeared on your face, “Well I must say I’m pretty fond of him too. He’s adorable. And, for what it’s worth, I think what you’re doing is really noble.” You told the Mandalorian. Why did complimenting him give you butterflies? You had no idea what the man looked like. For all you knew, he could have tentacles for a mouth or four eyes. But, regardless, there was just something about him that made you uncomfortable in the best way - in the sort of way that left your skin crawling with excitement and a constant little urge in the back of your head that made you desperate for him to like you. 

“I appreciate that.” 

Another small moment of silence again left you rocking back and forth on your heels. “Where are you off to next?” You inquired curiously. 

“I don’t know. We’ll figure it out though. Tatooine isn’t too far from here. We might go there and lie low for a day or two.” Mando responded. 

A question had been whirring around your mind since the Mandalorian first arrived and enlisted your help but you didn’t realize how hard asking it would actually be. You knew, though, that this was your last chance. “Can I come with?” You asked, the words coming out quickly. 

“This isn’t a passenger ship.” He answered simply. 

“I don’t mean like a taxi or whatever. I mean... “ You struggled to figure out how to ask, “Can I come with you guys? Wherever you go, I don’t really care. I don’t have any money to pay you but I can help however you need. I have some survival skills in the wilderness. I can sort of fix some things. I have child care experience. And I’m a fast learner for anything else you might need.” You chewed your lip while waiting for the Mandalorian to respond. 

“Why would you want to do that?” 

You sighed, “I just… I don’t want to die here knowing I never did anything but smash metal with a hammer. I don’t want to spend my whole life stuck in this little village when there’s an entire galaxy out there to see. I understand that joining you would mean a life of danger but I think I’m willing to risk that.” 

Mando pondered the proposition. He had no actual need for a companion on his journey to deliver the Child to the Jedi but he could see the potential luxury in having one. Clearly, the Child really liked you. Fighting and caring for the Child was difficult at times and having an extra pair of hands would definitely prove helpful. Although you weren’t a trained warrior, you could hold your own in a fight and had no problem pulling the trigger when the moment called for it. You did have the ability to fix things that he wasn’t able to, at least when you had the proper tools. 

Beyond that, he could see your desperateness to leave this planet. Mando had never been what many would call a “softie.” He did what needed to be done and would do whatever it took to meet those ends. He had his ethics, of course, and obviously he felt bad for the people that he couldn’t help but he had to admit that he often had the “not my problem” mentality. Perhaps it was attributed to his newfound position as a father figure or maybe it was because he actually cared about you for some unknown reason, but he found himself sympathizing with your situation. He could see in your eyes that you saw hope in him and the Razor Crest as a way to get off Arbiflux. This was your opportunity to leave behind a life of “the usual.” But he still couldn’t help but find himself stuck on what you said earlier about the men from neighboring towns coming in to take advantage of the women here. The fact that you carried a gun in an otherwise safe community simply to defend yourself against men like that actually enraged him. His “not my problem” mentality seemed to be receding to his yearning to help you in some way, especially after all you’d done for him. 

He couldn’t believe he was doing this. “People try to kill us almost everywhere we go. You will never be safe. Can you handle that?” 

With a hard swallow, you nodded your head. 

“We are leaving in thirty minutes. Take only what you need.”

Your eyes widened with surprise and a big smile spread on your face, “Wait, are you serious?” 

“Yes. As long as you understand what coming with me entails, I could use the help.” Mando didn’t actually hate his decision to allow you to come with. Part of him was actually a little excited to have another person, an actual companion, on board. Of course, he would gladly kill you or strand you on an icy planet the second you indicated any harmful intent towards the Child but that seemed highly unlikely at the moment. 

The way you did a little excited jump made him smile under the helmet. Your enthusiasm and gratefulness gave you a humble, real, and, frankly, slightly adorable energy, despite the badass edge of literally forging blades and shooting people. “Thank you so much! You won’t regret this. I will be right back!” He watched as you ran off the Razor Crest, presumably to your home to grab a bag of personal belongings. 

Mando moved to the main hold and sat on a box, the Child standing on the ground and looking up at him. He could have sworn that the little green baby was giving him that look. It was the look that kids gave their friends when their crush walked by. “Hey, knock that off. You better be on your best behavior for her. She’s willing to help you not get killed so be thankful she’s coming along.” Mando told the tiny being, who just giggled in response. “We’re just helping her! It’s not like that.” Mando insisted to the Child, exasperated with his silent (imagined) insistence. It didn’t occur to him that he really was just arguing with himself. 

He stood up and did a once around the ship to try and work out the logistics of living with you. Frankly, he wasn’t sure where you’d sleep or how living with another person was going to work as it had been so long since he’d spent more than a few days with someone. All Mando knew was that he wasn’t totally dreading your company.

[allthingskenobi]

Obi-Wan in Exile – Vader

(Originally published on AllThingsKenobi.com December 13, 2020)

Welcome to the first in a series of looks into Obi-Wan Kenobi’s time in exile on Tatooine between Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith and Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope. We’ve tried to mine as much Legends and canon material as possible to help guide you through some of the period’s most common and repetitive themes so that when the new Obi-Wan Kenobi series airs, you’ll be ready.

Not everything he ever did in the entire 19 years will be explored here, but as we said, we’ve tried our best to pick out the most prominent and impactful moments to give everyone a better understanding of exactly what one hermit had to endure out there all alone in the sandy deserts of Tatooine.

While Vader himself was not a common reoccurrence throughout Obi-Wan’s exile, the threat of him certainly was…well until now that is. As Vader so often does, he’s recently made his way back to the forefront of the story and will seemingly loom very large over the upcoming series, thus moving us to start with exactly what that might mean for Obi-Wan and how it might work with the canon boundaries we currently have. Yes, we understand that canon can change and probably will, but we do love a challenge.

“Vader,” Obi-Wan muttered. “Vader’s alive.”

DARK LORD: THE RISE OF DARTH VADER BY JAMES LUCENO L

Let’s start at the beginning. We have one instance in Legends where we see Obi-Wan learn that Vader survived Mustafar and it comes mere months after his exile on Tatooine begins. He first hears the name “Vader” mentioned again on the HoloNet during one of his trips into Mos Eisley and nearly faints before panicking to find a way to take Luke and run. (1) This early recognition seems to be reconfirmed in later canon as one of Ben’s greatest fears in the third year of his exile continued to be “sand crunching beneath heavy black boots, a dark cape billowing in the desert squall, the mechanical wheeze of a respirator.” (2) So will we see Obi-Wan only just learning of Vader’s fate in the tenth year of his exile? I’d say that’s highly doubtful unless the show provides a flashback for us—which we will gladly accept.

“Instead, Padmé was dead and Obi-Wan was running for his life, as stripped of everything as Vader was. Without friends, family, purpose…”

DARK LORD: THE RISE OF DARTH VADER BY JAMES LUCENO L

At the same time, Vader was also very convinced that Obi-Wan was still alive and would remain so despite his greatest efforts. Because if there was one thing Vader was good at it, it was holding a grudge like he held a lightsaber, and he would expend quite a bit of energy over the 19 years between episodes III and IV searching for his old Master. (Just ask anyone he comes across in the comics.) Oh, and let’s not forget that it’s also Vader who would later inform a disbelieving Tarkin, in no uncertain terms, that Obi-Wan was still alive and on the Death Star. (3)

“No, I can’t [leave],” Ben said, firmly. “I must be here.”

KENOBI BY JOHN JACKSON MILLER L

“The core of Anakin that resides in Vader grasps that Tatooine is the source of nearly everything that causes him pain. Vader will never set foot on Tatooine, if only out of fear of reawakening Anakin.”

DARK LORD: THE RISE OF DARTH VADER BY JAMES LUCENO L

Now that we’ve established that they both knew of each other’s survival, it begs the question as to why their paths never actually crossed in 19 years. Personally, I think it’s fairly simple: Obi-Wan would never leave Tatooine and Vader would never go anywhere near it. We will discuss Obi-Wan not leaving Tatooine more in-depth at a later time (and yes, we know what Ewan said about having a ‘rollicking time’), but Vader would canonically never visit his home planet until well after Obi-Wan and Luke were both gone. (4)(5) And by then it was much too late.

That brings us to the most recent ‘Obi-Wan Kenobi’ news and how that fits in with what Legends and canon have told us so far. We received a lot of exciting and thought-provoking announcements in a short amount of time, and frankly, our minds haven’t stopped spinning since. Could the show undo what we currently assume to be true? Yes. Could the show work within those same parameters? Also, yes. Do I personally have any idea what’s going to happen? No. DO I THINK THE SHOW IS GOING TO BE AMAZING NO MATTER WHAT? Y E S. The goal of this exercise is to simply try and reconcile the new details to the existing Star Wars lore because I think that’s what makes it interesting. So you can take it or leave it. The choice is yours. (Until it isn’t because the show has aired and this is all pointless.)

HERE WE GO.

“[Deborah] Chow confirmed that audiences will “definitely see Obi-Wan and Darth Vader get into it again” as we see the blue blade of a hooded Obi-Wan clash with the fiery red blade of Darth Vader.”

“McGregor knows the battle will be eagerly anticipated, and he’s looking forward to performing it just as much: “Having another swing at each other might be quite satisfying for everybody. We hope that you enjoy it as much as we’re going to enjoy making it.””

DEBORAH CHOW AND EWAN MCGREGOR DURING THE DISNEY INVESTOR’S REEL

Not only was the “Hayden Christensen returning as Darth Vader” bombshell dropped in our laps, but we were also fed the above morsels (not once but thrice) and told to digest them. Our first reaction was a hearty and well-deserved cry of rejoicing until the realization of what this could all mean set in and it turned into a hearty and well-deserved sob.

There’s hardly a way to be disappointed in the fact that we will see Ewan and Hayden not only together again, but ���getting into it” as well, but we do have to wonder what this means for the moment where Obi-Wan and Vader face each other again on the Death Star. The moment is not only pivotal to Episode IV, but I would argue, the entire saga. And it’s made even more impactful by the fact that the two men have not physically confronted each other since their fateful battle on Mustafar.

What we do know, and that which should not change, is that Vader never knew where Obi-Wan was hiding nor that he had Luke, his son, with him. That tells me two things: whatever kind of “rematch” happens here does not endanger Luke’s safety in the long run nor is it probably something that would occur more than once. I think what we’re going to see happen is isolated and “unexpected,” occurring only once ten years into Obi-Wan’s exile.

You: But, All Things Kenobi, if they could never physically meet on Tatooine or elsewhere, then what does this all mean??

Us: Do we look like Deborah Chow or Ewan McGregor? Do we have all the answers for you? NO! But can we try to help ease your mind until the show airs and I’m proven all sorts of wrong?? YES! SO PUT ON THAT TINFOIL HAT AND LET’S DO THIS!!

“I sense something. A presence I’ve not felt since…”

STAR WARS EPISODE IV: A NEW HOPE C

“Obi-Wan once thought as you do.”

STAR WARS EPISODE VI: RETURN OF THE JEDI C

Instantly our minds turned to these two particular comments from Vader in Episodes IV and VI. They’ve always stood out as peculiar, demanding explanation, but even more so now. The first is a vague, open-ended statement that leaves us to assume they hadn’t met again since they parted on the slopes of Mustafar. The second is a seemingly wistful reminiscence of a memory Vader has of his old master.

Luke had just finished making a heartfelt plea for Anakin to remember his “true self” then says, “come with me.” Where did Obi-Wan make the same appeal to only be shunned by Vader as well? Is it possible the series will show us this after all these years and possibly solve the riddle of both enigmatic statements at once? Is it possible that any such conversation might quickly devolve into another lightsaber-fueled clash??

“Count Dooku was Yoda’s apprentice.”

“And Count Dooku has fallen to the dark side.”

“All of us have apprenticed to Master Yoda.”

“He cannot be held accountable for Dooku’s descent.”

“But they are connected. Profoundly.”

THE CLONE WARS 6×11 “VOICES” C

A distinct bond exists between each Padawan and Master and unfortunately that bond does not disappear when one or the other becomes a Sith Lord. Despite the bond between Obi-Wan and Anakin being firmly closed at both ends, there’s no doubt that a presence remains. And even the most sturdy walls might crack from time to time.

Even after 19 years apart, Vader is quick to recognize when Obi-Wan is nearby and goes so far as to know his intent. “Escape is not his plan. I must face him alone.” And he’s right. (3) As for Obi-Wan, the Force has plagued him with dreams and visions, even showing him “a limbless wreck hanging in a bacta tank, necrotic skin pallid and scarred.” (2)

Could their strong connection be the vehicle that allows Obi-Wan and Anakin to confront each other once more? Within the Force they could not only converse, but we could also see them “take another swing” at each other without any physical consequences no matter who “wins.” The mental toll would also make for great drama for both men and bring a new perspective and emotional weight to several scenes in the Original Trilogy.

“If you loved me, Obi-Wan, you would have killed me.”

STAR WARS: DARTH VADER 24 BY KIERON GILLEN C

Finally, it’s quite possible that Obi-Wan might not physically be involved at all in their “rematch” and it might be entirely from Vader’s perspective. One theory could be as simple as the fact that Vader once had a training droid whose deadliest combat setting took the form of his former master. (Oh, Anakin.) (6) Another theory, and a much more likely one, could be that Vader has a Force vision or dream that allows him to recreate and relive various moments between himself and Obi-Wan, including, but not limited to, another lightsaber battle. This would be interesting to witness as every time it occurs, it means that Vader is wrestling with Anakin.

Although the Obi-Wan that continues to exist in Anakin’s psyche doesn’t seem too different from the real thing, just imagine Ewan McGregor getting to play Obi-Wan from Anakin’s point of view…I’ll just drop my mic there.

Star Wars: Darth Vader 24 by Kieron Gillen (2016) C

Star Wars: Darth Vader 5 by Charles Soule (2017) C

Citations:

(1) Dark Lord: The Rise of Darth Vader by James Luceno L

(2) “Time of Death” – From A Certain Point of View by Cavan Scott C

(3) Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope C

(4) Star Wars: Darth Vader 2016 by Kieron Gillen C

(5) Star Wars: Darth Vader 2020 by Greg Pak C

(6) Star Wars: The Force Unleashed (2008) by Haden Blackman L

[unforth]

🤔 Gonzo/Carrie Bradshaw 😈

I had to Google Carrie Bradshaw, lmao, but at least once I checked I did have a vague idea. I’ve never actually seen Sex and the City so this is based entirely on my osmosis of it.

Also, if you saw yesterday when I said that the Dean Winchester/Margaret Thatcher was the most cursed thing I’ve ever written?

It’s been dethroned. This is the most cursed thing I’ve ever written.

*

Wind whooshed out of Gonzo’s fabricky mouth; Carrie could still remember the feel of their fur on her skin, the magic they did with that long, flexible nose. Then, They’d lay between her legs then looked up at her with a smile, but they weren’t smiling now, and nerves thrilled through Carrie with an uncomfortable mixture of worry and remembered ardor.

Their silence was the most unnerving part.

“Just talk to me,” Carrie implored. “I’m sure we can work this out! I’ve never met anyone like you, Gonzo - so communicative, and carrying, and in *bed*? Just wow…whatever it is, I’m sure we can…” She trailed off as Gonzo shook their head. “…no, please! Don’t tell me—“

“It’s over,” Gonzo sighed out, head still shaking, their nose waggling with every turn.

“No!” wailed Carrie. After so much searching, she’d finally, *finally* found the perfect significant other in this cursed city, and now…now…

“I’m sorry.”

“Can you at least tell me why?” she asked tearfully. “Is there nothing I can…” She didn’t bother finishing; she’d been dumped enough times to recognize a hopeless situation when she saw one.

But, damn it all, she’d thought Gonzo was different!

They heaved another sigh, gaze fixed on the table, then after a long pause they looked up, reached across the table to take her hands, and met Carrie’s gaze with their steady, black-eyed, gleaming obsidian orbs.

“Well,” Gonzo said solemnly, “you have to understand…and it’s why I say this isn’t fixable, because there’s no way…Carrie, you’re not a chicken. You’ll never be a chicken. And my dream woman…my dream woman is a chicken.”

Well.

Carrie couldn’t argue with that. She definitely wasn’t a chicken, literally or figuratively, nor did she want to be. She loved being a human woman. And if that just wasn’t what Gonzo wanted, there was nothing she could do.

“Good bye,” they said, giving her hand a final squeeze, rising and walking away, shooting a wistful look over their shoulder before heading out of the restaurant, out onto the blustery, busy New York City street, and vanishing from her life forever.

“Miss, are you ready to order?” a waiter asked politely.

Heartbreak wracked Carrie’s chest, anger and betrayal and loneliness and frustration and the furious realization that she’d have to try *again,* would she *never* find someone who’d stay, would she never—

“Ma’am?”

Hands slapping on the table, resolve stiffening, Carrie slammed the menu shut. “Chicken cordon blue,” she announced, proud of herself for not sounding too, too bitter.

It was a small revenge, but it felt…right. Appropriate. Weirdly like victory, though she couldn’t have said what game she was playing that she could possibly win.

“Very good, we’ll have that out for you shortly!”

When had she *ever* won?

Fighting back a sob, she called out to the waiter’s back, “and a strawberry daiquiri!”

Fuck her life.

Back to square one single…

*

Whelp that’s. Something. I wrote.

Want your own insane crack ship ficlet? Drop an ask in my inbox and I’ll do my best!

[jaskicr]

reverse au BUT canon universe geralt and jaskier are sent to an alternate universe where their roles are reversed but they remember their canon lives

ft. bamf jaskier and blushy geralt

canon universe geralt and jaskier touch a weird artefact and they’re sent to an alternate universe where jaskier is a witcher and geralt is human

(this is established relationship)

so they grow up without memories of their past (???) selves but they get vague impressions/dreams that tell them something’s not right

they regain their full memories they’re 15/16 ish

jaskier is born first. he’s sent to kaer morhen and goes through the training and the trials to become a witcher (he gets extra mutations bc i said so, im a sucker for witcher!jaskier with white hair and cat eyes ok)

he remembers his life as a bard when he’s 16, not long before he sets out on the path

and he realises that geralt isn’t with him in kaer morhen - he’s in the cohort geralt would have been, he’s friends with eskel and all that, but geralt isn’t here

and jaskier thinks that whatever happened, geralt must be dead

it hurts, as he walks around kaer morhen, knowing that geralt should be there, knowing that, in another life, geralt had walked within the same walls

but jaskier still holds out hope, returning to kaer morhen every winter and hoping that someone like geralt would show up

but geralt never does, and on his travels, jaskier asks mages and researches to find a way to reverse whatever was done, but he can’t

after maybe 2 decades, jaskier gives up and properly mourns the witcher he had known, who doesn’t exist here

once, he tries picking up the lute, but it hurts too much. it reminds him of what he’s lost, reminds him that geralt isn’t here

he puts down the lute and picks up his swords. he doesn’t touch the lute after that

something like blaviken still happens but maybe in a different way bc it’s jaskier

a few decades after jaskier is born, geralt is born into a noble family

from a young age, he’s unnervingly good at sword fighting and combat, and he enjoys it, but something draws him to music

at first geralt isn’t very good at it, but there’s an inexplicable urge within him that tells him to continue, a quiet yearning for melody and music that makes him want to be good at it

so he goes to oxenfurt, and that’s when he remembers being a witcher once, remembers the path, remembers jaskier

and he searched desperately for jaskier. he scours the campus, asking professors and students, searching the faculty and alumni

but no one has heard of jaskier

and geralt knows that there’s no way that jaskier wouldn’t have gone to oxenfurt - the only reason jaskier isn’t here, isn’t in whatever universe this is, is because he’s dead

geralt vows to live in jaskier’s memory, and he takes up the lute

he misses jaskier’s singing, misses his songs. so he learns the lute, learns to sing, so that there’s always a part of jaskier with him

when geralt graduates from oxenfurt, he sets out on the road

in a fit of nostalgia, he travels to posada, something bittersweet and wistful rising within him

unbeknownst to geralt, jaskier is heading to posada as well, tracking a contract

they unknowingly end up in the same tavern

at this point, jaskier has learnt to tune out bards. it hurts too much to remember what he’ll never have, so he doesn’t register the bard that’s playing right now

geralt is playing when he spots a dark figure in the corner, black armour and swords marking him out as a witcher

it’s all too familiar, and a tentative hope blooms in geralt’s heart

maybe -

he makes his way over, heart hammering, and says the words etched deep into his memory

‘i love the way you just.. sit in the corner and brood’

and geralt’s heart is in his throat, hoping and hoping and hoping for the right response

and jaskier hears a familiar voice saying words he had said, a lifetime ago

jaskier raises his head and sees a familiar face, a face he knows as well as his own despite the different hair and eyes and stature, and his heart stutters

it can’t be. but it is. and jaskier just knows.

geralt almost cries when unnaturally bright blue eyes with slitted pupils rise to meet his, set in a familiar face marked by a long scar and framed by silver hair

‘i’m here to drink alone’

it’s this familiar exchange, repeated but reversed, that lets them know that the other remembers, that they’re here

and for the first time since they woke up in this different world, they feel complete

they bask in the moment, drinking each other in, because they’ve found each other, and even if they’re different, even if everything is different, they’re together

geralt slides into the seat opposite jaskier, and it’s so, so familiar, but so different

‘i thought you were dead,’ geralt whispers

jaskier smiles, a small and sad thing, but he reaches over and grabs geralt’s hand. their callouses are reversed, now. jaskier’s hands are rough from the grips of his swords, and geralt’s fingers are padded from years of playing the lute

‘me too,’ jaskier confesses softly. then his smile turns slightly more playful. ‘i didn’t think you’d have red hair and green eyes. you look good.’

then geralt ducks his head and blushes under his freckles (yes he has freckles it’s hella adorable ok) and jaskier is fascinated bc he’s never seen geralt blush

(and he!! has freckles!!!)

‘this suits you,’ geralt mumbles, still blushing. he peeks out from under his lashes and jaskier sort of melts. ‘the hair and the eyes, i mean.’

and, well. jaskier had been insecure about his mutations that mark him as something other, something inhuman, but hearing geralt’s acceptance of him...

jaskier squeezes geralt’s hand, still in awe that he’s here, he’s real. they’re here, together. ‘i missed you.’

geralt beams, and jaskier‘s heart warms at how easily geralt seems to smile now. ‘i missed you too.’

the elves happen pretty much the same way apart from the fact that geralt and jaskier expecting it

and when geralt follows jaskier, neither of them object to it

they try to find out what happened to them, but all they’ve figured out is that their lives have been reversed, and no one else seems to be affected

so they travel the continent together trying to find an explanation or a cure

they try to return to the place where they found the artefact, but they only find a patch of dirt

jaskier brings geralt to kaer morhen

they ask vesemir about their situation (and geralt aches at the fact that his old mentor doesn’t know him), but he has no idea

eskel and lambert look at geralt with no recognition, and it hurts

but they take to geralt easily, and in no time, it’s almost like they’re back in their own world

they find yen earlier than they do in canon. she’s hostile at first, not knowing why they’re seeking her out, but when she hears their story she’s intrigued and promises to try and find a cure

in the meantime they try to settle into the new lives and new dynamic

they both have two lifetimes in their heads, two whole lives that are theirs, that they’ve lived

of course, they’re not the same people, shaped by new experiences as well as old

geralt is more open, more affectionate, more vocal with his thoughts and feelings. he smiles more, and he’s less gruff with others, though he still isn’t completely comfortable in social interactions

jaskier is a bit quieter, a result of his witcher upbringing. he’s still mostly open about his emotions, and being around geralt makes him smile and chatter liked he used to, but there’s a hypervigilance in him borne out of his witcher training, something lethal and deadly

they learn about each other again, finding new things to love and explore

now, geralt is the one who plays in taverns, and jaskier is the one who takes contracts

geralt still retains the skills and memories of his training as a witcher. though he lacks the enhanced strength, he can still fight, and jaskier gets some lightweight swords for him

geralt helps out on contracts sometimes, when he’s confident that he won’t get hurt. jaskier is reluctant at first, but concedes that geralt should be able to hold his own against weaker monsters

that’s when geralt realises that witcher!jaskier is a huge bamf and also very buff (buff jaskier rights!!!) and geralt really shouldn’t like it as much as he does

jaskier also looks unfairly good in armour with his swords in his hands

and now he understands why jaskier used to be obsessed about his black eyes after taking a potion, because HNNNG

with geralt by his side, jaskier doesn’t mind playing the lute again. it doesn’t hurt like it used to, with geralt by his side once more

geralt lends jaskier his lute and jaskier plucks out tentative notes on the strings, before he launches into one of his songs

jaskier’s voice is rough and untrained, lacking the oxenfurt training he used to have as a bard, but it’s pleasant and sweet, and geralt joins in, their voices twining together in a lovely duet

jaskier doesn’t join geralt when he sings in taverns, fearful of how humans would react, but on the road, they sometimes sing together, and it’s unexpectedly nice

(maybe jaskier gets a glamour at some point, and the continent discovers that the famed bard geralt occasionally gains a partner)

as a witcher, geralt had been unable to lash out at the people who’d insulted him and attacked him

but now, he’s human, and watching jaskier’s shoulders slump as humans spit vitriol at him, well, geralt gets to be feral now

he’s far more dangerous than jaskier had been as a bard. sure, bard jaskier was feral, but he lacked the skills that geralt remembers from his time as a witcher

the humans don’t stand a chance against geralt, and jaskier is the one hauling geralt out of fights now, and many taverns witness a white-haired witcher dragging his redheaded bard out as he yanks him into a fierce kiss

they’re both very soft and very gone on one another. geralt is far more tactile now and jaskier does not mind. they cuddle a lot and jaskier is the big spoon

they’re both openly affectionate, there’s a lot of soft hand holding and hair braiding and casual touches and like. they’re just soft, ok?

jaskier makes it his mission to make geralt blush as much as possible, because it’s adorable

(he also discovers how far down that blush goes, and geralt gets to witness jaskier’s witcher strength and stamina)

they make it work. jaskier gets insecure sometimes, knowing that his features are unnatural and scarred and nothing like what he’d looked like as a bard

but geralt reassures him, telling him that he’s beautiful no matter what

sometimes, geralt hates his own human frailty, how weak he is without his enhanced strength and how easily he gets hurt

but jaskier shows him everything he loves about geralt’s human body, telling him how happy he is that geralt gets to live a life without the suffering of a witcher

and the longer they’re together and the more they get to know each other all over again, they become less sure whether they want a cure or not

geralt likes being a human bard. humans don’t hate him anymore, and he likes being a bard more than he thought he would

but he knows that jaskier is, by nature, someone who loves people. and watching jaskier be rejected by prejudiced humans makes geralt’s heart hurt, because jaskier loves people so fucking much, and now he’s hated by them

but jaskier doesn’t mind being a witcher either. he can help people now, even if they’re ungrateful. there’s a deep satisfaction as he slays monsters terrorising innocents, and like this, he also gets to protect geralt

(not that geralt needs protecting, but still, it’s nice. and geralt has realised that he quite likes jaskier swooping in to save him aka picking him up in his arms)

and jaskier sees how free and easy and open this geralt is, unburdened by decades of hatred and conflict, and he wants this for geralt, wants geralt to know the happiness of a human life without being hated by the very people he helps

both of them like the lives they lead now, and they don’t know if they want to go back. but their old life is the original world, and they still wonder if they should go back

idk how it ends - either they somehow find a cure and return to canon universe with a whole load of new experiences, or they never find a cure and they learn to live in this new world

or maybe they do find a cure and decide that they’ll stay in this world because they’ve learnt to accept and love each other even with the changes, and it’s their world now

there’s a fic for this now!

[hhjs]

the art of losing isn't hard to master. (though it may look; like disaster).

pairing. ⤳ bang chan x reader.

genre. ⤳ angst.

alternatively. ⤳ a mystery trope. :3

word count ⤳ 2.07k

note ⤳ sorry for the long title hah. this is inspired by jaurim's song 'twenty five, twenty one.' and the title is a quotation from elizabeth bishop's poem 'one art'.

"I don’t want to see you again."

Chan knows you don't mean it, not even one bit. From the way the sentence comes out all shaky, the way you're pretending to stare off into space in sudden contemplation when really you just didn't want him to see you tear up.

But it still hurts.

It hurts so much that he almost regrets breaking up with you, finds himself wanting to take the words back as swiftly as he'd uttered them in the intimate setting of your favourite café.

Almost. If he says something now, he can taken it all back. Just one word. An explanation. And he can gone back to basking in the warmth of your affection in that selfish manner that he always did.

He doesn't, though, he can't.

Not when he was starting to notice just how absorbed you were becoming with your relationship, minimising your own priorities to make sure the bond lasted, giving up applying to your dream college because it meant you'd be moving away from him.

Sure, it sounded like some heroic bullshit sacrifice in his head, like something infuriating drama protagonists do - but there was not a speck of doubt in him pertaining to the department of seeing you happy.

Even if it had come to this.

Even if losing you was the expense he had to incur to get you to love yourself more than you loved him.

Chan, however, doesn't tell you that. Knowing how stubborn you are, you'll certainly not let go without a fight.

It's easier this way, he thinks, if instead he says he can't do it anymore - and lets you believe it.

"Okay." He says, finally finding his voice and these words, he really means it, "Anything for you."

...

It's the sheer irony that baffles him.

There was a time when Minho used to mock Chan about keeping blind faith in settling down with you, pointing out that, even if it was through harmless banter, it was an absurd thing to want out of a highschool sweetheart.

And the former is also the first one to stop beating about the bush, to tell it as it is, "You're a fucking asshole." Minho says, plopping down beside him. He sounds more disappointed than angry.

A movie plays on before the pair and Minho wastes no time in stuffing his face with popcorn, flaunting that he had no intention of explaining his comment, as if it is just that obvious.

Chan remains silent, baffled by the fact that this the first time he's on the receiving end. He usually acts as the one who dishes out words of wisdom and scoldings when necessary.

When he heard you were going away for college just the next morning, he was both ecstatic and horrified. Ecstatic because things were going according to plan. Horrified because that meant he wouldn't be seeing you at all, even if chancing upon you had grown obviously less frequent than it had been when you were together. It meant he wouldn't find you lounging absently at a local café while your eye brows furrowed, fixated on a particular page, it meant that there would be no accidental brushing of shoulders when you'd end up going to Jisung's parties, it would mean completely falling off of your radar.

However, Minho's outburst acted as a vague consolation, albeit he understood it was wrong, it indicated that you weren't doing well either, it indicated that you missed him like he missed you, it meant that you still loved him.

The idea of forever and always had been embedded in his ideology too deeply to apply reason.

He is always going to love you, you are always going to love him. He knows that much. He believes that much.

That alone is enough. That has always been enough.

...

It's too early in the morning and he is positive that this is an abysmal decision.

But the little care he had for rationality, always in your department was not new.

You push a suit case out of the door, there is an Uber waiting, the sound of rain hitting pavement is at such great volume that he can hardly hear his rapid footsteps.

When you crane your neck his direction, Chan stops walking further, but he is too near to go unnoticed.

"W-What are you doing here?" The question comes from you. He notes that you almost sound...hopeful. Like you would go right back in and snuggle into the comfort of your covers if he asked, like you'd forgive him if he asked, like you'd love him despite the distance that'd keep you apart if he asked.

Chan doesn't ask.

"I just... wanted to see you off." He lies, it's taking a whole lot of self restraint to not go up to you to engulf you in his bone crushing hugs, to uproot you off of the security of your toes. He only seems to stare, feigning nonchalance.

The I'm sorry, the truth, sits atop the tip of his tongue and he inwardly promises that he'll tell you someday.

...

Chan doesn't, of course, anticipate this.

When he finally conjures up the courage to send you a follow request after bashfully asking for your username and twiddling his thumbs over your Instagram icon, the acceptance and follow back request notifications almost reduces him to a giddy child who was allowed to watch cartoons way past their bedtime. The unanticipated pleasure that comes with getting something you had no expectations whatsoever of getting.

What is more shocking, he notes, is just how much your life has changed;

or at least, seems to have changed.

There are endless photos, shots of bright neon tones of a typical college party where you're holding up a solo cup to the air and grinning big enough that your eyes are closed, Chan smiles at this.

His enjoyment is, although, quite transient when another pop up in his notification bar reminds him that you've made your most recent post just a few seconds prior.

Curiously, Chan scrolls upwards, careful not to accidentally like any old photos.

This picture is different, the premise is a concert of some sort, he can tell from the banners, the condensed congregations of people around you, mouths awkwardly paused in uttering lyrics - the disturbing part, is the long, bleached blonde stranger behind you, his gangly arms looped over your chest, your back pressed against his front, while his chin is propped up onto the gap between your neck and shoulder. There is no caption.

You look the happiest here. He knows this. The familiar childish glow of your face whenever he'd crack a dumb pun was etched vividly into his memory.

Uncharacteristically, Chan finds himself putting down the phone on the table so Jisung would notice and elaborate without him asking.

And his endeavour is satisfied, "Oh, that's Hyunjin." Jisung explains, before rolling his eyes when Chan kept looking at him to say more, "They're just friends."

It’s only when Chan lets his breath go, does he realise that he was holding it all along.

...

"Long time, eh?" You smile at him, it's an easy, carefree smile, not the tight lipped ones you'd shoot his way weeks after the breakup. That elicits a weird feeling in Chan, he wants to understand why, know what brought this change.

Were you just that happy to see him? Did you remember that your first date was also on a New Year's Day, just like today? Or was he just lingering in the past, all alone?

Even though Hyunjin's invitation to the party was a nuisance, his delayed presence sparked a hopeful event for Chan, now that you were home for the holidays, he needed a proper chance to finally tell you all that he was holding back and do anything, everything to make up for it.

He imagined all the stories from those photos on your feed, musing over your brief conversations through DMs but back in his room, with a blanket pulled to your chin, while he threw a free leg around your waist.

Chan nods slowly, rummaging through the snack shelves. "Yeah. I can't believe it's been a year already." He prepares a mental conversation in his head as he finally secures a bag of Lays.

You smile slowly, looking down at your chipped nails, "Me neither."

In the living room, a loud pop song is playing, the two of you divorced from everyone, a countdown almost commencing.

From behind the kitchen counter, Chan opens his mouth to ask you about something but can't remember what, the last ten seconds rolling to ten, nine, eight, seven -

"I've been looking everywhere for you." A foreign voice comes but the stranger, on the contrary, is not unrecognisable.

His hair is the same long blonde, he's tall, his eyes are hooded but bright with kiddish excitement, his mouth naturally pouted. And when he says this sentence to you, your face, almost immediately, lights up.

The dramatic exclamation is exaggerated with sets of long flailing arms, Chan wants to roll his eyes at the cheesiness, had it not made you laugh.

You only get to turn your body partially before Hyunjin walks over to your position, he cups your face with one hand and the other traverses to the curve of your waist, pulling you flush against him. It's as if you've completely forgotten about him, as if you're the only two people in the world and Chan, a wistful member of the audience merely permitted to have the luxury to watch.

It is then that Chan realises that Jisung was definitely misinformed. Friends don't do this, friends don't look at each other like this. six, five, four, (But he can't look away, can't look away because he has to face the music, bite the bullet, to accept it for what it is. The spectacle is only but a morbid reminder of how taking people for granted always proves to be fruitless.)

Three, two, one,

"Happy New Year." Hyunjin's mouth moves with brief soundless words, he looks like the happiest man in the world and there's not a doubt he is, with you...

And when he kisses you like that, it's anything but perfect, he keeps grinning against your mouth like he can't believe this is happening. 

The lonesome spectator senses himself thinking that you've never looked a fraction of happy with him as you do with Hyunjin.

Every sound falls back into muteness, all but the ringing in Chan's ears. Every planned syllable deems his tongue to a limping, incoherent mess. He bites it down.

All Chan understands is -

there is no going back from this.

..."You know I never told you." You hold up your fingers to his face, there's a giant indent of a wedding ring against the skin. The ornament catches light and glints.

Chan hums, finding that he was just as enamoured with your smile. After all this time. "Told me what?" He asks, eyes flitting behind your head to see Hyunjin picking out your favourite drink in a memorised fashion, a matching accessory banded around his finger as he points to a menu displayed above. It's only a matter of minutes.

You giggle, as though it's the silliest thing in entire the universe, the equivalent of admitting you used to believe you'd grow a tree inside your tummy if you swallowed apple seeds, "This is going to sound stupid."

You look downright embarrassed when you press your palms against your face and gaze at him through the gaps of your fingers, then rest them back on the table, "Don't get me wrong..like, of course it hurt, at first. And I was so angry at you..." you chuckle, embarrassed, " But if we never broke up, I can't imagine where I'd be right now...if it wasn't for you I don't think I'd be the person I am today." You explain lightheartedly, it's time and familiarity that makes bringing this topic up so easy. Like it means nothing at all. "So I guess I just wanted to say...thanks?"

Chan smiles, a genuine smile,  even if it has a melancholic quality to it, all he ever wanted...really was for you to be happy. And you are. Most certainly.

 So he doesn't tell you more, doesn't tell you about almosts and rain hitting pavements and forever and always.

But he reaches out and pats your knuckles and says - because he means it the same still, "Anything for you."

[hockeylvr59]

I Get To Love You || Tyson Jost

Authors Note: When you get an idea that keeps you up until 3:30 in the morning...So I basically planned out this entire wedding but I don’t want to clog up this already overly long fic with a dozen photos. So I’ll post all of those separately along with the first dance song. All three will be tagged ‘033’ for those of you that find this through tags and don’t want to search through pages of my blog. 

Song Inspiration: I Get to Love You - Ruelle

Warnings: none            Word Count: 4,987          Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

~~~~~~~~~

The idea had come unexpectedly. You’d been brushing your teeth before bed when Tyson had slipped in behind you, his hands falling to your waist. Leaning back against him, you relaxed, the fatigue of the day finally settling deep in your bones. 

You’d been running around since early in the morning, taking groceries to Tyson’s grandparents and visiting with them for a while while keeping your distance. Then you’d been roped into volleyball lessons with Kacey which only caused Tyson to laugh at you as you missed the ball entirely or failed to get it over the net on the off chance you did hit it. He’d hovered over your shoulder as you insisted on cooking his family dinner, your way of saying thank you for being so welcoming since you’d arrived. By the time you retreated back to Tyson’s childhood bedroom, you were ready to crawl into bed and cuddle your boyfriend. 

“We should get married.” 

For a moment you thought you’d imagined the words, but then Tyson squeezed your hip and you realized he had actually spoken and was waiting for a response. Nearly choking on toothpaste you quickly spit it out, twisting in his grasp. 

“Umm...excuse me?” You questioned, your eyes wide with shock. You’d only been dating for eight months, though you’d been friends for nearly a year before you’d gotten together romantically. Getting married was something that had been only vaguely mentioned...the future, in general, had only come up casually once or twice. 

“We should get married,” Tyson repeated, a shrug of his shoulders making light of his words while the look in his eyes revealed his sincerity and vulnerability. 

Leaving your toothbrush laying on the bathroom counter, you tugged Tyson back into his bedroom. There, you plopped yourself onto the edge of the bed, guiding your boyfriend to stand between your legs. 

“What brought this on?” You finally whispered, trying to figure out what was going on in Tyson’s head. It wasn’t that you were opposed to the idea, honestly, it was something you frequently dreamed about, but you needed to understand why this had come up out of nowhere, long before you had expected it. 

Tyson shrugged again, and you reached forward to take his hands, playing lightly with his fingertips. 

“Dunno…” He mumbled. Just as you were about to open your mouth to speak, he continued. “Honestly...I’ve been thinking about it for months…” 

“How long?” You breathed, the thrum of your pulse steadily increasing. 

“The charity brunch.” Your mouth formed a soft ‘o’ shape and you peered up at him through your eyelashes. Another thousand questions came to mind but you felt Tyson shift nervously in front of you, so you hesitated in voicing them. 

“I just…” Tyson’s voice was soft. “You’re so perfect. Sometimes I can’t believe you love me. Seeing you around my teammates, seeing you around complete strangers...you’re incredible. And I want...I want what Gabe has. I want an amazing, beautiful wife to come home to. Eventually, I want kids to cuddle and chase around. And you...you’re the only one I can picture all of that with. You’re the one I want all of that with.” 

You didn’t need Tyson’s explanation to be convinced...truthfully your hesitations were silenced as soon as he mentioned that this wasn’t some spur of the moment thing. 

“You’re the one I want all of that with too.” You admitted, tears pooling in your eyes as Tyson sunk to his knees in front of you. In his eyes, you saw steady warmth, the twinkle that only appeared when he was looking at you. At the same time, you saw that ounce of fear, his worries about never being good enough, his concerns that stemmed from not having his dad in his life. He’d never voiced them, but you knew that he’d always worried that he’d never have a complete family of his own. 

Leaning forward, you pressed your forehead against his and let out a somewhat shaky breath. 

“Do you really want to get married?” You questioned. 

“I wouldn’t have brought it up if I didn’t.” Tyson’s response that he was sure, the knowledge that getting married was for all of the right reasons, being certain that you both wanted the same things, that was really all you needed. Pulling back you reached up and brushed your thumbs along Tyson’s cheeks, a smile growing on your face. 

“Let’s get married.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, trying to quiet Tyson’s whoops at the same time as he tackled you backward onto his bed, wrapping you up in his arms. 

“Yeah?” He asked giddiness on full display. 

“Yeah.” You agreed. The decision was sealed with a passionate kiss, one that was only broken as Tyson brushed against a spot that made you giggle because it tickled. 

Eventually, you pushed him away, getting up to finish getting ready for bed. Though you knew you needed to sleep and your body was exhausted, your mind was filled with a new level of energy stemming from knowing that you were actually going to get to marry the love of your life and your best friend. 

Laying tucked into the crook of Tyson’s arm, you gently trailed your fingers up and down his chest. 

“So when can we get married?” Tyson murmured. “Tomorrow?” 

“Wait what?” You replied, your voice coming out in a squeak. Tilting your head up, you peered at him through the darkness. 

“You just agreed to marry me didn’t you?” Tyson insisted. 

“I didn’t know you meant like right away!” You whisper yelled. 

“Why wait?” The question was so matter of fact that it took you off guard. “I know you’ve never wanted a big wedding anyway.” He added. 

“Yeah but…” It seemed insane to just get married out of the blue but while you tried to find a reason why you couldn’t, none came to mind. “Don’t you want your family there?” Was the only thing you could think of. “Your teammates even?” Tyson’s fingers carded through your hair for a moment as silence filled the space between you. Fallouts with your family meant that there wasn’t anyone you needed to have at your wedding but Tyson had close relationships with his family and friends and you couldn’t believe that he wanted to get married without their presence. 

“I mean yeah I guess I want my immediate family there.” He murmured. “But I certainly don’t want to wait on a pandemic to end just to get married.” He added. The more you thought about it, the more that getting married now grew in appeal. Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth you pondered for a moment. 

“Well, we can’t get married tomorrow...I’m sure getting a marriage license will probably at least take a few days. You know...as will finding someone to marry us.” You reasoned. “And maybe you’re right that I don’t want a big wedding but I only plan on doing this once so can we at least plan something small and intimate? Not just do like a city hall thing?” Tyson’s lips pressed against the top of your head before leaning down to meet your own in a sweet kiss. 

“Whatever you want…” He agreed. “But let’s keep it a secret until we’re actually doing it.” 

“Tys…” You gasped. 

“What?” He laughed, mocking offense. “Don’t you think it will be fun to surprise everyone?” 

There was a certain appeal to keeping your impending marriage a secret for a few days. You just weren’t sure how feasible it actually was. 

“C’mon babe...imagine the look on my mom’s face.” He prodded. Sighing, you rolled your eyes. 

“Fine. If that’s what you want.” You conceded, a slight smile spreading across your face as you saw the triumphant grin spread over his. Gently he bumped his nose against your own before kissing you once more. 

“I love you.” He mused. “And I can’t wait to make you Mrs. Jost.” Butterflies erupted in your stomach at the thought and you leaned up to kiss him one more time. 

“I love you too, you crazy man.” You teased. “Now go to sleep. We have planning to do in the morning.” 

~~~

It had been a whirlwind three days and to be honest you were shocked that Tyson’s family hadn’t started asking questions. Immediately upon waking up the morning after you and Tyson had decided to get married, you went online to order a dress paying for rush shipping and praying that it arrived quickly. Breakfast with his mom and sister was followed by running down to the local registrar for a marriage certificate, calling a local florist and baker from the car to see about possibly having something done last minute, however simple. If there was one advantage to getting married during a pandemic it was that every business was eager for new orders and was happy to put something together even with the tight time frame. 

Day two of your wedding preparations was split. Tyson had insisted that he didn’t really care about the flowers or cake (as long as it was chocolate) and that he had something else that needed done. So you’d borrowed his mom’s car to go meet with the florist and baker, immediately falling in love with what they had planned and making arrangements to pick the items up in two days. It was harder than you imagined to keep all of the plans to yourself, and you were practically jittery by the time you and Tyson retreated to bed, eager to share with him. As you readied for bed you watched him slip two small boxes into his nightstand. 

“Did you get rings?” You questioned, voice practically shaking at the thought. Tyson chuckled and nodded as he pushed the drawer closed. 

“Did you think we’d get married without rings?” He teased. “But you can’t see them.” He added. Your pout and puppy eyes were met with resistance until you sighed. 

“Fine. Then you can’t see the dress.” It was silly for you to think that would sway him because Tyson only smiled down at you wistfully. 

“Perfect.” He declared. “I don’t want to see it until you’re walking outside to marry me anyway.” As he settled into bed beside you a few minutes later he pulled you closer, tucking you into his side. “I also arranged for someone to marry us.” He whispered. 

“Hmm...that’s good. That’s kinda important.” You declared. He proceeded to share what he had told the officiant regarding your thoughts for the ceremony and you nodded along. There were still moments where it amazed you that he was on the same wavelength as you but at the same time that was one of the many reasons you couldn’t wait to marry him. Together you decided that your vows were going to be maybe not entirely written given the time crunch but certainly chosen individually rather than the standard traditional vow. 

In only two days you had been able to knock off a good portion of a list for a simple wedding so the third day was spent just tying it all together. Tyson had convinced his grandparents to come over for dinner, outdoors of course, and you’d ordered catering for the six of you. Your dress had arrived and you’d sneakily tried it on, crying as the fabric settled over your hips. It was in that moment that it clicked how real this was. That tomorrow you’d become a married woman. 

Less than 12 hours later, the day of your wedding finally arrived and it was the hardest yet to keep your mouth shut. While Tyson went rollerblading, you convinced his mom and sister to do home manicures with you. It was clear that they were starting to suspect that something was up but thankfully Tyson arrived back home before the other women in his life were able to crack you. After lunch, he convinced his mom and sister to go shopping, before picking up his grandparents on their way back for dinner. 

With them gone you were able to set up the yard for a small ceremony while Tyson picked up the cake, flowers, and food. About an hour before the time you’d set, you slipped upstairs to do your hair and makeup, your excitement growing. When Tyson returned, he slipped into your room to kiss you quickly. 

“Next time I see you…” He trailed off, winking. A giddy smile lit your face as you watched Tyson grab a change of clothes before slipping into a different bathroom. As you slipped into your dress you could hear him talking to first your officiant and then his family, urging his mom and sister to change quickly before heading outside because he had a surprise for them. There was a rush of activity for a few minutes before it all went quiet and you peeked your head out of Tyson’s room before slowly making your way downstairs. 

From just inside the backdoor you could hear Kacey bugging her brother about what was going on. 

“What do you think?” He inquired. Shooting him a quick text to see if they were ready for you, you set your phone on the table and picked up the bouquet of flowers hidden in one of the pantry cabinets. Your phone quickly buzzed and then the sound of the classic wedding march drifted inside from a speaker you’d placed out there. 

“I guess it’s go time.” You whispered to yourself, taking a deep breath before letting your hand fall to the handle of the backdoor. As you slowly walked outside a part of you wanted to see the reactions of Tyson’s family. Instead, your eyes drifted to your groom watching as he broke into tears at the sight of you. You’d asked him the other night if he was going to cry and he swore he wouldn’t but...you were beyond glad he’d been wrong. 

Stepping forward you let Tys take your hand, his eyes drifting up and down your body. 

“You pulled this dress off in three days?” He mumbled. “You’re stunning.” 

“You clean up pretty well too.” You replied. “Well besides the hair.” You teased knowing he hadn’t been able to get it taken care of for far too long. 

“Are you two serious right now?” The sound of Kacey’s voice drew your attention and you glanced over to see his entire family getting emotional. Kacey was wiping tears from her eyes and you sent her a watery smile of your own. 

“You can blame your brother for making me keep it a secret.” You insisted, praying that his family would be okay with this. 

Before anyone else could comment, your officiant suggested that you proceed and you nodded, turning your attention to him as he oh so officially announced that they had all gathered together in order to witness the union of you and Tyson. He explained that per the wishes of the bride and groom that we were going to keep it brief and he asked Tyson if he wanted to start with the vows. 

“Y/N, from this day forward I promise to be worth it. Worth the time. Worth the trip. Worth the energy. Worth the embarrassment. Worth your love. I promise that you will always count. You will always come first. Yes, even above hockey, believe it or not. From the moment you entered my world, you have filled it with life, colour, and energy. You are my best friend, the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, and who I want by my side through all of life’s challenges and adventures. I promise to be faithful, I promise to make you laugh, and I promise to love you. Now and Forever.” 

Silently you thanked God for waterproof mascara and eyeliner as you wiped frantically at your cheeks. 

“Y/N,” Your officiant prompted. Clearing your throat you squeezed Tyson’s hand, trying to remember what it was that you wanted to say. 

“There are three words that are stronger than I love you. Today I stand in front of you to say ‘I choose you’. I choose you over all others. I choose you to share happiness with. I choose you to care for. I choose you to have a family with. I choose you to grow with. I choose you to love forever. You are the epitome of everything I have ever looked for in another human being. There isn’t another soul on this planet who has ever made me half the person I am when I’m with you. I am forever changed because of who you are and what you’ve meant to me and I can’t wait to see what our future holds.” 

By the end of your vows, your voice had cracked more than once and Tyson brushed his thumb over the back of your hand as a signal of strength. Your officiant asked Tyson if he had the rings and letting go of your hand for just a moment he dug them out of his pocket. 

In turn, each of you repeated after the officiant as you slid rings onto each other’s left hand. 

“With this ring, I thee wed.” 

Your hand was shaking as you slid the ring over Tyson’s knuckles but once his hand was back in yours you felt a wave of calm rush over you. 

“And now I guess it’s time for the part that I know Tyson has been eagerly awaiting.” Your officiant joked. “It’s certainly my pleasure to pronounce you husband and wife. You can kiss your bride.” 

Tyson didn’t hesitate to follow that directive, tugging your body close to his as he pressed his lips to yours, dipping you slightly. As he righted you onto your feet he reached up to brush your remaining tears away before taking your hand once more. 

“Mr. & Mrs. Tyson Jost.” Your officiant announced and you watched as Tyson’s family all stood to clap, smiles on their faces. As Tyson tucked you into his side, Kacey rushed up out of her chair and over to hug the two of you before pulling back and smacking her brother. 

“How dare you keep this a secret.” She scolded, scowling at him for just a moment before the smile broke through again. “I have a sister!” She exclaimed, her arms wrapping around you once more. 

“Kace...let her breathe please.” Tys chastised, ruffling his sister’s hair. 

“I’m sorry! I’m excited!” Kacey declared. 

“We all are.” Tyson’s mom, Laura, insisted. Her arms were the next to wrap around you and she whispered her thanks for making her son happy in your ear. Her hug with Tyson was much longer and you watched with fondness as he basked in his mother’s touch and words. 

As much as you wanted to hug Tyson’s grandparents you knew that you should keep some distance so instead, you settled for a squeeze of each of their hands. His grandmother commented on how she had never seen Tyson so happy and his grandfather declared that he hoped his grandson knew how lucky he was because you were a special woman and looked absolutely beautiful. Thanking them both, you expressed how much you appreciate them being there to witness your special day and how you knew Tyson wouldn’t have wanted to do it without them. 

After a moment Tyson’s arms came sneaking around your waist and he leaned down to kiss your cheek. You felt him dig in his pocket again before he reached for your hand, slipping another band onto the same finger as your new wedding ring. Glancing up at him with a puzzled expression, you felt him squeeze your hip before speaking. 

“Did you really think I’d deprive you of an engagement ring?” He teased. “Figured I at least owed you that since I technically didn’t propose. Plus they just look better as a set.” He added. Glancing down at your newly ring laden left hand you had to admit he was right. While your wedding ring was gorgeous all on its own, the addition of the second band made it all feel complete. 

You didn’t have long to bask in the arms of your husband...that was something you weren’t sure you’d be over saying any time soon...before the sound of his stomach growling filled your ears. 

“Think we should maybe serve that dinner we promised everyone?” You inquired, turning to kiss Tyson before pulling away. 

Before you could even make it into the kitchen, Tyson’s mom and sister waylaid you. 

“You are not serving dinner in that dress.” Laura scolded. “We can do whatever needs done.” Throwing your hands up in surrender you backed off. 

“Everything is in the oven keeping warm, it just needs served.” You explained. “And a bottle of wine or two needs opened.” You added. Kacey and Laura jumped into action, pulling the food out of the oven and cracking open a few bottles of wine. Tyson insisted that you settle into a chair at the table on the patio and he’d bring food out so you complied, leaning back and just examining your rings. You were married. It just hadn’t fully set in yet. 

Dinner was full of questions: when you had decided to get married, how you had pulled it all together, how you had managed to keep it a secret. Laura mentioned that it was the best surprise her son had ever managed to pull off and that even if she wanted to be mad she couldn’t, seeing how happy the two of you were. It was Kacey that asked when she could expect to become an aunt and a panicked expression flittered over your face for a moment as you looked at Tyson. 

“Give us some time okay sis?” Tyson declared, his hand rubbing over your thigh. “We just got married…” He took a sip of his wine before shaking his head. “We want kids but let us enjoy being newlyweds for a while before we think about adding that responsibility.” 

“You know...my first thought when I realized you were getting married was ‘did you knock her up…’” Tyson’s grandmother declared. A flush littered your cheeks as you shook your head frantically. “I’m glad that’s not the reason.” She added. “Though I certainly wouldn’t mind having a few great-grandbabies at some point when the two of you decide you’re ready.” 

With the obligatory topic of kids covered you relaxed back into your chair, letting your dinner digest as you basked in time spent with Tyson’s family. Your family. 

“So what’s first…?” Laura inquired. “First dance or cake?” Glancing at Tyson you shrugged leaving the choice up to him. When his hand reached out to you, you let him pull you from your chair. As he stood in the middle of the yard he paused. 

“We didn’t pick a song.” He mumbled. Giggling at him you quickly pecked his lips before moving to grab your phone from the table, scrolling to the song you had in mind before pressing play and letting it spill from the speaker. 

“Now we do.” You replied, wrapping your arms around him as he pulled your body into his own. You’d danced with Tyson plenty of times, but this time definitely felt different as you swayed slowly to the music. This song was everything you wanted to say to him, everything you’d been feeling not just the past few days but since you’d gotten together in the first place. As your favorite part of the song approached you reached up to cup Tyson’s cheek, singing along to the words as you looked up at him. 

And they say love is a journey

I promise that I'll never leave

When it's too heavy to carry

Remember this moment with me

You felt the shudder pass through Tyson’s body as the tears filled his eyes once more. Stretching to press your forehead to his, you kissed him softly. 

“I’m yours.” You whispered. “You don’t have to worry about any of that anymore.” Tyson’s grip tightened and he buried his head in your neck as you settled back onto the flats of your feet. “Shh.” You whispered, your hand carding through his hair as you pulled him tightly against you. Glancing over at where Tyson’s family had been watching the two of you, you noticed that they had all disappeared, giving the two of you a moment of much-needed privacy. 

It took a few minutes for Tyson to regain control of his emotions and you kissed him again, smiling up at him. 

“I’m so goddamn lucky.” He stated. “I love you so much.” 

“I love you too. My husband.” Your grin turned to a burst of laughter as Tyson spun you around the yard. “Now should we go get cake?” You asked. “You know before your family eats it all.” 

He insisted that they wouldn’t and you knew he was right but it had made him smile and that was the goal. The cake was on the counter ready to be cut by the time you got inside and with Tyson’s hand over yours, you cut the first piece. His mom took over from there, handing you a plate and you quickly cut off a small piece before lifting it with your fingers to smash into Tyson’s face. 

His shocked expression was worth any repercussions and the fact that Kacey had gotten video of it on her phone made it that much better. After wiping his face clean, Tyson took the plate and while you expected him to do the same to you, he simply got a bite on the fork and fed it to you gently. Though you’d kissed him what felt like a hundred times today, you kissed him once more before taking the fresh piece his mom had served, this time all for you. 

After dessert, Kacey and Tyson’s grandparents left so that she could get them home and Laura insisted that she would clean up and that you two should just go relax. That was how you ended up curled in Tyson’s lap outside as he pressed kisses to your head and ran his fingers over the bands on your left hand. Lost in his presence and touch you hadn’t even noticed him reach for his phone until he was flashing the screen in your face showing you a picture he’d just taken. It was clear that you were curled in his lap and wearing a white dress, though you couldn’t see either of your faces. Instead, the focus of the shot was on your left hand draped over his right forearm, your rings on display. 

“Cute.” You whispered, snuggling further against him as the excitement and wine caught up to you. He lifted his right arm a bit to type frantically before putting the screen back in your face again. This time it revealed a possible Instagram post with the same picture and the caption “Here’s to Forever. #surprisinglyjost”. 

“Can I?” His voice was tentative. 

“Babe it’s your social. You can post whatever you want….within reason.” You could feel him roll his eyes and you sighed. “If you want to you can. I don’t care.” You knew why he was asking, people could be cruel online after all. “Maybe just restrict the comments.” You suggested knowing that way only people he followed would be allowed to reply. Nodding you watched as he adjusted his settings before hitting ‘post’. 

You had kind of expected his phone to blow up when people noticed but when his phone started ringing off the hook you were more surprised than you expected. For the most part, he ignored them, even his close friends like Barzal, Fabbro, and JT. But when Gabe called first once, then twice, before requesting a FaceTime the third, you murmured for him to just answer the damn thing. Sighing Tyson complied, accepting the request before adjusting his phone in his hand. 

Gabe was utterly dismayed that Tyson had gotten married and hadn’t bothered to tell anyone. Laughing to yourself, you watched as Tyson bantered back and forth with his captain before eventually agreeing that Gabe and Mel could throw you a dinner when it was safe to do so. Before he got off the phone Gabe asked one more question. 

“How gorgeous did she look?” Smirking down at you Tyson kissed your head before responding. 

“Absolutely stunning. I’m sure Kacey took pictures.” 

“You’ve got it so bad. Good for you man. Mel and I are so happy for you.” 

When Tyson hung up the phone he immediately turned his ringer to silent before gently guiding you up and off of him. 

“No more distractions. I think it’s time to take my wife to bed.” He smirked. As he drug you inside, past the living room you heard Laura’s voice shout after you. 

“Kacey and I have headphones but please try and be quiet.” 

You could have sworn you flushed from your head to your toes as Tyson nearly choked on his own spit. Lifting and carrying you over the threshold to his room, he then gently laid you down on the bed, his body moving to press over you as his right hand trailed down your side. 

“Well now that’s it's out there...what do you say, Mrs. Jost?” He smirked. 

“I’d say I think you’re wearing too many clothes for that Mr. Jost.” 

“Oh, that can be remedied.” He insisted, his tongue fighting for dominance as he kissed you. 

And remedied it was. 

A week ago you were sleeping in this bed next to your boyfriend with no idea of what the future held. Tonight you were sleeping next to your husband, and though the future may still be unclear, at least you had the most incredible man by your side for all of it. 

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Just Swimmingly ch.2 (BAON)

Summary: Jeff has a lot to think about and what better place to do it than at the bar with his best buddy, Stretch?

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Established Relationships,  Hurt/Comfort, Additional Tags To Come

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

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Read it on AO3

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Read it here!

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The night wasn’t as young as it used to be, but to be fair, neither was Jeff. After a few hours of sitting on a bar stool, his tailbone would be more than willing to testify on that.

He leaned back against the bar in an effort to take some of his weight off of it, grimacing as he watched the dance floor. Colored lights flashed to the thrumming bass beat over the gyrating dancers and out in the thrashing sea of sweaty human bodies there was a head that was above almost all of them. Stretch towered over most humans and never was it more obvious than right then. The lights reflected off his smooth skull, a living disco ball, and around him other humans were laughing and cheering as they danced.

Edge would be having a conniption right about now and Jeff was a little bemused to find his anxiety having an internal dance competition of its own. Currently it was at ‘chachacha’ levels, watching all those Humans grinding up on Stretch. He didn’t want to think anyone here would hurt Stretch, intentionally or otherwise, but the threat of low HP always loomed. His trust in humanity took a pretty big dip a few months ago outside a Chinese restaurant and he had the scars to prove it.

Jeff took another sip of his drink. His straw crackled against the bottom of the glass as he finished it off, leaving only lonely ice cubes behind and he set it back on the bar as he settled back in for a little spare contemplation.

If he were honest, wasn’t a huge fan of the club scene even before he started dating Antwan. Not that he didn’t like going out but his problems with it were twofold. One, bars sucked to go to alone and back then he didn’t have a lot of real estate in the friend territory and two, it cost money. His disposable cash in those days was a lot like a pink unicorn: nonexistent.

Being friends with Stretch took care of both of those problems but a third loomed up to take their place like an unwanted acquaintance. Put bluntly, Jeff could not dance and until Kevin Bacon showed up to give him a few lessons, he probably wasn’t gonna learn how.

Not that he really minded that much. Guarding their drinks and listening to the music wasn’t a bad way to spend the night.

Besides, Stretch didn’t seem to care if he wasn’t up to evacuating the dance floor. He mostly let Jeff sit at the bar where he tried to look like someone with deep and mysterious thoughts to process instead of the person he actually was, far more likely to accidently spill his drink into his lap than anything else. On either side of him were other people doing the same, a row of wallflowers watching the dance floor with wistful envy.

Mostly Stretch left him to it but sometimes he’d bounce his way back and haul Jeff out for a song, any song, fast, slow, techno-bop, dubstep, didn’t matter to Stretch, he was an equal opportunist when it came to friendly torment and if Jeff felt a lot like Frankenstein’s monster tromping around next to Stretch’s lithe booty shake, eh, that was okay. Sacrificing a little dignity for a friend’s fun times was part of the package.

As far as he knew, Stretch didn’t go out to the clubs often either, but if there was one thing Jeff had learned when it came to Stretch, it was there were no half-measures. If he was in, he was all in, and that included drinking, dancing, and on the weekends, the occasional explosion caused by a thermal reaction. Truly a wide variety of hobbies came into play when hanging out with Stretch and going out to the bars pretty much guaranteed something interesting would happen.

Like the time they met those guys who’d come into town for the last beat poetry night. One of them mentioned liking Stretch’s Intergalactic Beastie Boys t-shirt so Stretch convinced them all to swap shirts and then swapped them around again, until they were all three shirts removed from the one they’d arrived in. Pants were a harder sell and if Stretch were ever hard up for money, he might take up selling ice to penguins because in no time they were all out on the sidewalk, firmly dismissed from Grillby’s over their rampant laughter drowning out the poet’s rambling about the burden of solitude. The Waffle House they ended up at had a less stringent dress code and all of them crammed into a booth to eat greasy breakfast food at two am in their boxer shorts. At least those were all their own and his plain cotton boxer briefs were no match against Stretch’s ‘wanna tickle my pickle’ pair.

He was pretty sure all those guys still followed Stretch on twitter.

He wondered what Edge had thought of Stretch wandering home in an entirely new wardrobe, minus pants. There was no way he didn’t notice, Edge was very intent on fashion, even Stretch’s version of it. Knowing him, he probably made Stretch strip right in the living room and soaked both him and his clothes in Lysol before burning his boxer shorts. The old-new t-shirt Jeff ended up with was hanging in closet even though it was two sizes too big for him. Antwan stole it sometimes for lounging around the house purposes and seeing him in it was always a cheap thrill.

Huh, now that he was thinking about it, he’d gone to the bar more this past year than in his whole life before. Not just with Stretch either, Blue and Papyrus had brought him along for karaoke a few times and that was an experience right there. Their singing was like a vocal interpretation of his dancing and just as painful for witnesses.

He’d even had a drink a couple of times with Red. Well, he’d been a tag along with Antwan but still. Red was still vaguely terrifying, but Jeff had gotten the occasional glimpse under his onion layers. He knew a little of what Edge and Red went through before they came here. His knowledge pretty much barely skimmed the surface, they’d both been soldiers and they might’ve gotten out alive, but not entirely unscathed. Knowing Red’s HP was similar to Stretch’s and he’d still survived? Perspective was a hell of a thing and it paid to look at Red from a slant.

Speaking of perspective, he was definitely liking the music. They were a local band and this place was close to the college, a good spot to hopefully get noticed and work their way up. The bar itself had probably been here for fifty years, the bartop pitted with scratches and scars from college students of yore, the stools definitely up for reupholstering.

It was really no surprise to find out that Stretch knew the current owner. He knew loads of people, wriggled his way into their lives a lot like he’d wriggled into Jeff’s. Only difference was, he didn’t usually let the other person wriggle back and yeah, okay, that metaphor was going in weird places, but the meaning stood. Stretch was good with shortcuts and he knew a lot of people, but he wasn’t necessarily friends with a lot. Jeff was pretty happy to be on the short list.

Knowing people came in handy, too, and bringing Stretch along always came with added perks. Catty only asked him to listen to the bands on the list to get a feel for their sound, but he’d be able to bring her a better report than that since they were going to go meet the band after their set was done. It would give him a chance feel them out, see if they were even interested in participating in the Midnight Monster Jamboree, as Catty had slyly dubbed it. After everything went down in California, they needed some serious good will.

The Monster community had been found not at fault for what happened right away, but Antwan told him court cases would be dragging on for a while yet. When Humans died, other Humans wanted someone to pay, and Monsters were easy scapegoats for unreasonable anger. His team was working their butts off on it, Antwan coming home at night so very tired, mostly falling into Jeff’s arms to sleep and yet still so grimly determined. Jeff couldn’t do much about all that, but he could try his damnedest to get their big public relations event off the ground.

The idea was to have a huge event for Humans and Monsters together and for it to be held in New New Home. Asgore thought that some of the problems with Humans might be a result of them thinking Monsters had something to hide, so what better way to show them who Monsters really were than a chance to see into their supposedly secret lives.

Jeff was on the lowest rung for planning and even from his view, it looked like a nightmare. Security details made up of both Human and Monsters, background checks, food, entertainment. Access was going to be extremely limited and the guest list was daunting; there were going to be some big names in politics and entertainment. That circled back to his job, getting some local bands together for the opening shows. Partly good public relations, but also an earnest desire to help out a few struggling locals with the kind of exposure most groups could only dream about. That was so like Monsters, trying to help others in the midst of helping themselves, but it sure was a lot of damn pegs getting shoved into so many slots.

He didn’t even want to know what Edge’s current schedule looked like.

There was a soft thud behind him and Jeff turned to see the bartender was bringing him another drink. The guy was probably somewhere around his age, unless you were gauging it by his world-weary expression, which probably put him at about right around three hundred.

He must’ve known Stretch, too. When they saw each other, he youthened to a spry two hundred and seventy after a complicated series of fist bumps. As an added bonus, he’d been keeping their drinks topped up and as someone who usually couldn’t even get a bartender to see him much less pour him a drink, Jeff sure did appreciate the VIP service.

He started reaching for his drink, but a sudden tap on his shoulder startled him. He turned around. A guy he didn’t recognize was standing there, not too bad on the eyes and weirdly nervous, enough that Jeff thought he might actually be trying to pick him up before he noticed the guy was holding something out.

“Did you drop this?” the guy said, barely loud enough to be heard over the music. It was a wallet and Jeff automatically checked his back pocket even as his eyes told him it wasn’t his.

He shook his head and the guy nodded, but instead of asking anyone else or handing it to the bartender, he wandered off towards the entrance.

Okay, that was odd. Jeff shrugged mentally, lots of weird people at the bar, maybe he was going to give it to the guy at the door in case whoever lost it noticed when they left.

He forgot about it as Stretch came back from the dance floor, sweat gleaming on his skull and face. That always gave Jeff a little pause, what exact purpose did sweating serve for a skeleton? Maybe he’d ask sometime when he was less busy with work. If Stretch didn’t know the answer to something, the journey to find out tended to be entertaining, and possibly less explosive this time around, although he wouldn’t put the chances at zero.

Stretch grinned at him, still panting, and picked up his own drink, gulping down half of it in one swallow. Jeff couldn’t remember was it was. Stretch tended to order more for the name than the taste, so it was probably something like a slippery nipple or a total screaming orgasm. Whatever it was, a skewer of fruit was floating in it and Stretch fished it out, pulling the cherry off the end with his teeth.

“so what do you think of the band?” Stretch asked, perfectly audible even over the loud music. There was another point of interest; when your voice was produced by magic, it didn’t always obey the rules of sound. “gonna give catty the thumbs up?

“I like it,” Jeff shrugged. He could barely hear his own voice, trusting that magical hearing worked the same way as speaking, “but I’m not the greatest judge of music. That’s why I bring you along.”

Stretch chuckled and propped his elbows on the bar, slouching back. It put him almost at head level with Jeff and the shirt he’d almost certainly borrowed from Edge pulled tight across his ribcage. “think i’m a better simon cowell than you?”

“No, you’re more Paula Abdul, and anyway, two heads are better than one.” Jeff played with the straw in his own drink. “Jokes aside, this is important, I don’t want to mess it up.”

“you’re not gonna mess it up.” Stretch scoffed. He bit a chunk of pineapple in half before polishing off the rest of his drink. “how even? you’re doing double-duty as it is. henry said once they’re finished, we can meet them backstage. i’ll have a chat with them, we’ll see if they’re assholes, and good to go! besides, it’s not like security isn’t gonna give ‘em a good, hard rundown, anyway.”

It was the truth and he knew it, but there was always that niggling little doubt in the back of his mind, that somehow he’d find a way to mess it up, and that would be it. This was so important to the Monster community and his chance to finally payback some of what’d they’d given him. He could do this, Jeff told himself, and he’d do it right.

The band started a new set, something with a low, growling bassline and Jeff turned back to watch, only to freeze as Stretch suddenly spoke again, the single word clear as a bell in church.

“jeff.”

The name caught his attention as much as the tone, Stretch never called him Jeff, it was always Andy or kiddo or whatever nickname was currently floating his proverbial boat. The last time he’d called Jeff by his actual name, he’d been lying in a parking lot in a pool of his own blood. The taste of hot metal was strong on the back of his tongue as he turned back to Stretch, his heart pounding, and some cringing part of him expected to see that friendly face instead as the one that appeared sometimes in his worst dreams, a deathmask with one socket dark and blank, the other strobing orange with grim intensity.

But Stretch only looked like his normal self and when he spoke again, each word was calmly measured and deliberate. "i don't feel right. i think we should go."

Somehow, that was even more alarming, and his worry quickly overshadowed any lingering bad memories that were vying for his attention.

“Sure,” Jeff said, “right now.” He hopped down from the stool. Stretch pushed off from the bar and staggered, leaning hard against Jeff and thank fuck he was light because his height already made it awkward to hold him up. He started to call for the bartender, maybe there was someplace they could sit down in the back while he called Edge, when another guy came up next to them, helping hold Stretch up. Then another on Jeff’s side and he started to protest that he didn’t need help when a voice growled close to his ear.

"Don’t look at me. Keep your mouth shut or I'll kill you."

It was followed by the sensation of something hard butting into his ribs and this could not be happening. This did not happen in the real world, this wasn’t a Jason Bourne movie, there could not be a gun pressed to his side right now. Even his own fear was sitting on the sidelines, pushed out by disbelief as Jeff stumblingly followed the guiding arm around him leading towards the door. The crowd reluctantly parted and next to them, Stretch was shuffling along, his eye lights blown wide and fuzzily diffused. He started sagging, his skull lolling back on his shoulders and around them were murmurs, people starting to notice.

“Hey, what’s going on? Stretch?” From the direction of the bar, and Jeff glanced back wildly to catch the bartender watching with dawning concern. There was no time to say a word, to even mouth a desperate ‘help’ before he was forcibly swung back around and pushed through the door.

The cold night air was like a slap in the face, sobering, and fear was starting to sink its teeth in past his disbelief. The guy next to him was keeping back out of his line of sight and he could only barely see the one on Stretch, dark hair, taller, burly, did he have a gun, too, who were they and why—?

By the entrance, the bouncer looked up in surprise as they walked past. “Hey, Stretch, you guys, okay?”

“Fuck off!” The man holding onto Jeff barked and the gun swung towards the bouncer. There was a beat of incongruous silence broken by the strains of music coming from inside the bar, then a girl screamed, the waiting crowd scattering.

“Fuck! Get them in the car!” A different voice, loud and panicky and he caught another glimpse of dark hair before he was shoved forward again. He stumbled, almost falling to his knees among the cigarette butts that scattered the asphalt, and the memory of another parking lot was strong, the swell of panic gagging him.

He didn’t resist as he was pushed towards a van, the side door sliding open and then he was inside it, collapsing across the backseat.

Weight dropped directly on top of him with a clatter of bones and Jeff grunted, trying to push Stretch off of him enough to sit up. Only to lose his balance again as the van squealed away from the curb, the tangle of his own limbs catching with Stretch’s limp ones.

A new voice barked from the direction of the driver’s seat. “Get their phones, hurry up!”

Rough hands grabbing at them, and Jeff instinctively tried to recoil, but there was nowhere to go. His phone was yanked from his pocket and Stretch didn’t say a word, only breathing with a slurry snore into Jeff’s ear. There was the sound of a power window going down, of tires squealing against asphalt and the inside of the van was too dark to see.

Not that it mattered. Rough hands hauled Jeff upright and the person they belonged to was wearing a ski mask like a fucking heist cliché. Jeff choked back a hysterical laugh, but even panicked amusement took a backseat when ski mask demanded, “Okay, both of you need to strip.”

Jeff only stared in mute horror, barely comprehending as a duffle bag was suddenly thrust at them.

“Change into these,” Ski Mask ordered, “Don’t get any funny ideas.”

There was a pun there, Stretch would have been able to think of one. Would have if he wasn’t lying slumped across the seat. His sockets were still open, but his eye lights were dim and unseeing, the lights were on and no one was home, not quite a pun but it’d have to do.

“Please, don’t hurt him,” Jeff said. He tried not to look at the guy with the gun as he carefully opened the duffle and pulled out the clothes inside, choosing his words with the same care. “He’s…he’s fragile, just a punch and you could kill him. Please.”

“Then don’t make us do anything that’ll get him hurt.”

Good advice from a shitty source.

Jeff scrambled into the oversized t-shirt and sweatpants in the bag, then helped the other…what, kidnapper? Asshole was the strongest contender in his head and that was what Jeff went with. Helped Asshole #2 get Stretch change into his. The guy was brusque but not ungentle, at least, and the second they were finished, the van pulled up next to a dumpster. A fourth asshole sitting in the front seat hopped out, tossing all their clothes plus the bag into it. Four against two, not including guns, not the best odds. Like Jeff would have been much help even if it were mano a mano. He sure as hell wasn’t a fighter past panicked desperation and he wasn’t about to hinge Stretch’s life on that.

“Now, sit back and relax,” said Asshole With A Gun. “You two behave and no one gets hurt, okay?”

Jeff knew a lie when he heard one. He nodded anyway and huddled into the seat, one arm looped around Stretch to offer what feeble protection he could. His skull resting in Jeff’s lap was a familiar weight from movie nights and Netflix marathons. His unconsciousness was not, but he was alive, they both were. It was a place to start.

Jeff kept silent, petting the smooth curve of Stretch’s skull as he watched the streetlights flash by and waited to see what came next.

tbc

[angryhausfrau-writes]

Still Living With Your Ghost

Hawkeye shows up on BJ's front porch one year, two months, three days, and seven hours after the Korean war ends. And he looks - Jesus, he looks rough. Tired and pale and wearing army boots and his blue Hawaiian shirt. He looks like a ghost.

BJ can't not invite him in, even though it's the middle of the night and Hawkeye can't really seem to explain what he's doing in California beyond something about wanting to see palm trees. So BJ gets him tucked into bed in his and Peg's unused guest room – still mostly empty even though the house has been finished for a while now. But it doesn't appear to matter much to Hawkeye, he passes out pretty much the minute his head hits the pillow.

BJ wakes up the next morning, sure that all of this had been a particularly vivid dream. But there Hawkeye sits, in BJ's living room, flipping and flipping and flipping through the television channels at whatever ungodly hour Erin has decided is morning.

BJ rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “Morning, Hawk. Sleep well?”

“Morning, BJ.” Hawkeye springs up from the sofa, like he used to spring out of his army cot. Like he's just been sitting there, waiting for BJ to wake up so he can drag him into whatever mischief he's dreamed up.

But this isn't Korea. BJ doesn't play those kind of pranks anymore.

And it doesn't look like Hawkeye is going to answer BJ's question. So BJ just works on getting the coffee percolating and making sure Erin doesn't throw cream of wheat all over the kitchen.

Peg drifts out of their bedroom a little later, takes a piece of toast from the table, kisses BJ on the cheek, collects Erin out of her high chair, and breezes out the door. Off to meet with a client, probably. Which means that BJ's stuck staring at a fidgeting Hawkeye from across the table, silence stretching awkward and molasses thick between them.

“So, uh, how you been, Hawk?” BJ thumbs at a chip in the Formica of the table top.

“Oh, you know. Busy. Doctoring.” Hawkeye is looking wildly around the kitchen and he hasn't touched any of the food on his plate. “Looks like you've really been living the high life here, Beej. Look at this place! Nice, real nice, BJ. You're a lucky guy.”

“Yeah, yeah I sure am.”

“And you're still a surgeon? Working at a hospital and everything?” Hawkeye's now looking intently at a point just slightly to the left of BJ's eyes, expression fixed in something that could be described as a smile, maybe.

“Yep. Nothing as exciting as Korea, though. I took out a gallstone two days ago, and that's been the highlight of my week.”

Hawkeye laughs, too loud and too sharp. And he's back to looking wildly around the kitchen, peering into the living room, rocking sideways in his chair far enough to almost overbalance. “That's nice. Not exciting is nice. Boring. Quiet.”

“Yep.”

Hawkeye is now tearing his paper napkin to little shreds that he's sprinkling over his eggs like snow.

“Look, Hawk. Not that it's not great to see you and all. But what are you doing here?”

Hawkeye goes back to staring at the point just slightly to the side of BJ's face. “Oh, you know. Thought I'd drop in on my good buddy. And see some sun, some sandy beaches – you're a little lacking on both fronts here, Beej. I confess myself disappointed. This isn't the California all those travel brochures promised me. Swimsuits and suntans. Palm trees.” Hawkeye waves his arms wide, gaze rocketing around the kitchen. “Where are they, BJ? Where are the palm trees?”

BJ laughs. “You're a little far north for that kind of thing. We mostly have rain and fog.”

Hawkeye nods. Grimaces. “I hate the rain. We spent years and years and years in the rain. Or the snow. So many years.” Hawkeye's staring again. “You know how cold it gets in northern Maine? I want. I wanted some sun, you know? A change of scenery.”

“Well, since you're in California already, you could drive south, you know. It's a ways, but you could go find a beach and some palm trees, like you said.”

Privately, BJ thinks a little sun would do Hawkeye a world of good. He's looking even paler than usual. Wan. Tired. Like he hasn't been sleeping.

“Yeah? You think so?” And Hawkeye looks up at BJ with such hope in his eyes. It's blinding. Terrifying.

So that's how BJ finds himself in the family station wagon with Hawkeye lounging practically sideways on the front seat, staring out the rainy window at San Francisco as they head south on Route 5 towards warmer climes.

“You know, I've never been to San Francisco,” Hawkeye says conversationally. They're driving through down town, and the tall edifices bear down on them like giants. Hawkeye has to keep his neck craned up, up, up to get even a glimpse of the gunmetal sky. “I've been to San Diego. Spent a whole weekend there when I was in med school. But I never quite made it to San Francisco, somehow. Surprising, I know...” Hawkeye trails off with a vague gesture.

“It's a nice city,” BJ says, inanely. But he's not quite sure what's happening here. And small talk is about all that's left to him.

Hawkeye smiles, sharp as a knife. And there's something lurking there behind his eyes that BJ can't identify. “I'm sure it is.”

They drive in silence for a while.

Suddenly, Hawkeye's head snaps down and to a street that runs towards the bay. “What's down there, Beej?” He asks it almost desperately.

“Uh, the docks I think.”

Hawkeye nods. Tips his head towards the ocean like he's listening to something far away. His eyes skitter over the dashboard desperate and wild.

“Lotta kids shipped out of those docks the last two wars,” Hawkeye says, apropos of nothing that BJ can understand. “Lotta kids who never got to come back home.”

“Uh, yeah. Though I guess they were hard up enough for doctors that they sent me over on a plane instead.”

Hawkeye nods distractedly, knee jostling against the passenger door. He's staring out the window again.

“Hey, Beej, pull over will ya? I really need a drink.” He gestures at a bar that BJ probably wouldn't have even noticed if Hawkeye hadn't pointed it out. BJ pulls over. He could use a drink himself. He'd forgotten how – how strange and alluring and difficult Hawkeye could be.

The bar is dead this time of day. Empty except for a few older men who look like they've probably been sitting on those same bar stools for the past decade or so.

Sitting at a shadowed corner table with a bottle of bottom shelf gin and BJ can almost believe he's back in the Swamp. That no time at all has passed since Korea. Hawkeye is certainly drinking like that's true. It's almost nice, the nostalgia that's carried on gin fumes.

And Hawkeye has calmed down a little as he sits there, no longer looking like he's going to crawl out of his skin. In fact, he looks almost wistful as BJ chatters on about Peg and Erin and his life in Mill Valley. Though what part of all that it is he longs for, BJ doesn't know. He'd never expressed much interest in marriage or kids before. But maybe he's finally looking to settle down.

BJ muses on the impossibility of a settled Hawkeye while the real one heads off to the bathroom. The bar has filled up in the intervening hours and it's hard for BJ to keep track of his skinny frame and dark hair, even as tall as he is. Though Hawkeye's usual slouch has gotten even more pronounced than it was in Korea and that doesn't help matters any.

BJ wonders what exactly happened to him to change him so much. To wear Hawkeye down like he's been.

But before he can think too long on it – before he can become maudlin – Hawkeye's back at their table and putting a wad of crumpled bills down on the scarred surface. Clearly a sign that he's ready to leave.

They troop a little unsteadily out to the car.

“So, how'd you find our fair city?” BJ asks as they pull out into rush hour traffic. The had really slipped away from him in the warm dark of the bar. He'd had no idea it was so late.

“Well, I can now say I've sampled all of the bountiful pleasures that San Francisco has to offer.” Hawkeye grins bright and sharp even through the alcohol. “So what's say we blow this joint and go find some nice sandy beach somewhere? Preferably a nude one.”

BJ grins at him and turns onto the highway.

They drive past rocky coastlines and pine covered mountains. BJ thinks Hawkeye falls asleep about an hour or so in, his forehead pressed against the cool glass of the window, eyes closed and face marginally more peaceful. But it's hard to tell.

At some point, though, Hawkeye jerks upright, looking around frantically, as if trying to figure out where he is.

Where they are is the vast empty farmland west of Mendota. Hawkeye spends a few miles staring out at the fields as they blur past the window. BJ leaves him to it.

In all honesty, BJ is starting to wonder if this was the best idea. Hawkeye seems scattered and distracted and manic like he was at the end of the war. Like he'd been after the bus and before he'd been committed.

Maybe BJ should have kept him in San Francisco. Called Sidney. Gotten Hawkeye some help instead of driving hundreds of miles to some unknown destination for some unknown agenda.

But they've already come this far. It would be dumb to turn around now.

“Did you know,” Hawkeye says in a voice that can barely be heard above the radio and the incessant thrum of the tires on asphalt. He clears his throat and tries again. “Did you know that during the Great Depression they used to gather all the unsold fruit and pour gasoline on it so that the starving people fleeing the Dust Bowl couldn't eat it?”

Hawkeye's staring intently at the side of BJ's face, more than wide awake. And maybe BJ spoke too soon.

“Uh, no. I had no idea.”

Hawkeye goes back to looking out the window. “I always thought that would be a terrible way to go,” he whispers so quietly, BJ isn't even sure he's talking to him.

A few miles later, they hit a town big enough to have a diner. Hawkeye's still quiet and staring, and it's past seven anyway. They may as well stop and get some dinner. Hawk hasn't really eaten anything but a handful of pretzels all day.

They both order cups of coffee and BJ watches Hawkeye add something out of a hip flask into his mug. Hawkeye obviously catches BJ looking and waggles the flask in his direction, offering. BJ holds out his own cup. This is feeling... This is feeling a little too close to Korea, all of a sudden, even though they're smack dab in the middle of California. And the liquor burns harsh and familiar down BJ's throat.

He coughs. “You make this yourself, Hawk?”

Hawkeye grins. “A guy's gotta have a hobby. And most of mine dried up after the war.”

BJ assumes he's referring to chasing nurses. He sure spent enough time at it – even if he was never all that successful.

Before BJ can get too far into asking Hawkeye about his triumphs or trials in the pursuit of the fairer sex – always sure to elicit an amusing (or steamy) anecdote – the waitress returns to take their order.

Hawkeye gets a hamburger and french fries. BJ orders a chicken sandwich and Hawkeye flinches so he orders a hamburger instead. And when the food gets there, Hawkeye devours his meal ravenously while BJ chats about Erin's recent trials with attending daycare since Peg is out of the house some days for her real estate career.

Hawkeye's obviously not one for conversation tonight, so BJ just keeps talking about his wife and his life and his beautiful, perfect, wonderful daughter. And Hawkeye sits in the booth, leg jittering against the tabletop and he tears his napkin into shreds and lets them snow down onto his empty plate. And when the waitress stops by again to top up their coffees, Hawkeye drinks about half the cup all in one go and then refills it with moonshine.

He's so alike and unlike the Hawkeye from Korea. The Hawkeye BJ knows more intimately than pretty much anyone other than his wife. And BJ can catch glimpses of that man in Hawkeye's gestures or his terrible honking laugh. But in a lot of ways he's a complete stranger. And it's difficult to sit there in the diner – in the real world – with this man that's half myth and half ghost and from a part of BJ's life that he'd honestly rather forget.

It's almost a relief to settle up and get back in the car. Hawkeye isn't asleep, BJ doesn't think. But he is quiet and still and content to just stare out the window into the empty dark.

In the car, in the dark, nothing is real. It's not like the harsh light of the diner where he can see Hawkeye. Here, BJ can pretend that nothing about what's happening is strange. He can pretend everything is normal.

But eventually it gets late enough that he's got to stop driving or he's going to fall asleep at the wheel and run them both into a ditch. BJ pulls into the first motel he comes across. And it's shabby and rundown, but a far sight better than a tent in Korea, which is where he half expects to collapse tonight, stuck as he is between past and present, waking and dreaming.

The only problem is that there's only the one bed.

BJ offers to sleep on the floor. But Hawkeye says he's being stupid and that it's not like they haven't slept together before. Which, that's stretching the truth a little. But BJ doesn't really want to sleep on the floor.

So that's how he finds himself laying in bed with Hawkeye - who's obviously still awake, BJ can see the gleam of his eyes in the dark – and feeling intensely awkward about it. It's a double bed, but they're both tall. BJ could probably fill up the bed all on his own. It's difficult to keep from touching Hawkeye - especially because if this were him and Peg, BJ would be spooning his wife, curling around her back, holding her in his arms. And BJ hasn't really slept with anyone other than her for a long time. Which is why he has to fight himself not to do the same with Hawkeye. A Hawkeye who's whispering a soft goodnight into the darkness between them.

BJ turns to face away from him and tries to go to sleep.

He wakes up to Hawkeye sitting bolt upright in bed, tears streaming down his face, absolutely dead silent as he cries.

BJ reaches a tentative hand out, lays it whisper light on Hawkeye's shoulder. “You ok, Hawk?”

Hawkeye turns his unseeing eyes to BJ, tear tracks gleaming in the moonlight filtering through the motel curtains. Blinks a few times, as if he's surprised to find BJ really there. Reaches out with a trembling hand to brush the tips of his fingers butterfly gentle against BJ's cheek.

“Beej?”

“Yeah, Hawk. I'm here.”

Hawkeye crumples forward into BJ's chest. And BJ holds him in his arms. Feels the silent sobs that wrack his skinny back.

“I dreamed that this was all a dream,” Hawkeye whispers into the join of BJ's neck. “That I'd lost you and I couldn't find you – no matter how much I looked and looked and looked.”

BJ gathers Hawkeye closer. “I'm right here, Hawkeye. And I'm not going anywhere.”

Hawkeye pulls away from BJ's arms. Looks up at him – and he looks, he looks sad and understanding and gentle. “Everyone leaves sometime, Beej. I won't hold it against you.”

And then Hawkeye's getting out of bed to go take a shower.

BJ feels strangely bereft without Hawkeye in his arms, so he busies himself getting ready to leave. It's still disgustingly early – the eastern sky just barely starting to turn pink – but it's not far to Los Angeles now. And BJ doesn't really want to spend any more time in this dingy, claustrophobic hotel room than he has to.

When they descend into Santa Monica, Hawkeye perks up from where he'd been sitting listless in the passenger seat. He practically has his head sticking out the window like Waggles does, staring out at the silvery gleam of sunlight on the ocean. Practically vibrating in his seat at the knowledge that they're getting close to the sandy beaches his heart desires.

BJ exits off of Route 5 and takes them through the wide boulevards and down to the beach.

Hawkeye grabs his arm on the steering wheel. “Look, Beej! Palm trees!”

“Yeah, Hawk. Just as advertised.” BJ smiles at Hawkeye fondly. His excitement is infectious. Buoying.

So different from his mood just a few hours earlier.

When they get to the actual beach, BJ has barely parked the car before Hawkeye's flinging himself out of it and down onto the sand. A cacophony of seagulls spirals into the sky, squawking at being disturbed by a six-foot plus lunatic sprinting towards the water.

BJ watches, amused and perplexed as Hawkeye starts throwing his clothes off with wild abandon, stripping until he's down to his skivvies, barely halting his headlong scramble towards the water. And he switches to genuine incredulity when the now mostly naked Hawkeye flings himself into the surf, struggling out past the breakers, until he's genuinely swimming in the marginally calmer water of the Pacific Ocean.

“Jesus Christ, Hawk,” BJ calls out to him from the beach. “Come back up here, you loon. You're going to get hypothermia.”

Hawkeye grins back at BJ as he floats serenely on his back, waves bobbing him gently up and down, hiding and revealing him from BJ's view. “Good thing I know a doctor then, huh Beej?”

But Hawkeye does eventually emerge from the water, shaking himself kind of dry – and splashing freezing water all over BJ's shirt. He's smiling big and genuine, and BJ thinks this whole trip was worth it just for this moment. Just to see Hawkeye look happy and unburdened and mischievous like he used to look. Like he looks in all of BJ's best memories of Korea.

BJ thinks he could stand to stick around Santa Monica a while longer. So they get Hawkeye dried off and bundled up in dry clothes and they head for a little cafe just off the beach so they can eat breakfast. By which BJ means he eats breakfast and Hawkeye drinks five cups of coffee and steals one piece of BJ's toast. But it's an improvement on yesterday morning.

And then they bum around the waterfront, stopping in at the little tourist traps, showing each other dumb knickknacks. Hawkeye discovers an especially hideous Hawaiian shirt at one of the stores - and almost talks BJ into buying it before common sense (and the thought of Peg's reaction) prevail. Hawkeye pouts, but grudgingly admits that a shirt covered in scantily clad hula girls might not be the best thing to bring home to one's wife. Though it's not like he knows what wives do or don't like, Beej, honestly. And BJ supposes that's true enough.

Eventually, it gets to be late enough in the day that other, far more sane people start gathering on the beach to swim or sunbathe or whatever. And Hawkeye takes this as his cue to drag BJ back to the sun and sand and palm trees he's so obsessed with. BJ goes willingly enough, truth be told – Hawkeye's led him far more terrible places than the Santa Monica public beach.

And it's nice to laze around in the sunshine with Hawkeye reading next to him, shaded by the parasol he'd brought along in his ratty army duffel. Honestly, BJ's heartened by the fact that Hawkeye planned this trip out well enough to bring things like swim trunks and sun block and a truly terrible pair of Groucho glasses instead of sunglasses. It makes all of this feel more like a prank and less like Hawkeye's unraveling again.

It makes BJ almost happy to remember all the trouble they used to get up to. Makes him able to tell stories back and forth with Hawkeye, able to quibble about the details when one of them insists the other had been responsible for whatever part of their prank had gone wrong. Hell, they even reminisce about Charles, and that's someone BJ had been more than happy to never think about again.

Anyway, it's all really nice. A nice vacation from the real world.

But that's all it is. All it can ever be. Because he's got a wife and a kid and a life waiting back for him in San Francisco. And Hawkeye's probably got a half dozen girls waiting by the phone for him to call.

“C'mon, Hawk.” BJ claps his hands brusquely and stands. “We should probably start heading home if we want to get in by dinner time.”

Hawkeye looks up at him from behind those stupid, stupid glasses. And it's hard to tell, but he might just look as conflicted about leaving as BJ feels.

“Yeah, ok, Beej.” Hawkeye stands and brushes sand off of his trunks. Starts putting away his beach towel and umbrella. Knocks against BJ's shoulder, a friendly little nudge. “This sure was fun while it lasted, though. Kinda wish we could've stayed here forever.”

BJ nudges him back. Gets him moving in the direction of the car. “You can always come back again.”

Hawkeye smiles sadly. “It wouldn't be the same.”

And then they pile into the car to head back to San Francisco. Hawkeye stares out the window again, curled up against the passenger door. Obviously not feeling like talking any more. So BJ just concentrates on navigating the way home.

The drive goes much faster this time, probably because they don't stop anywhere. And because BJ's a little lost in thought. Seeing Hawkeye again has brought up a lot of memories he'd done his best to bury when he went home to Peg and Erin and real life. The station wagon's bench seats feel full of ghosts.

None more haunting than Hawkeye Pierce – famed in song and story – a half buried memory of the worst parts of BJ's life. And currently curled up in the front seat of BJ's car like the remnant of a terrible, wonderful dream. So he's got a lot to think about.

It's no wonder BJ startles when Hawkeye brings a gentle hand to his shoulder. They're home. And they've apparently been sitting in the driveway for a while if Hawkeye's teasing, “Nice of you to join us, Beej,” is any indication.

“Sorry, Hawk. Lost in thought.”

“Well, don't hurt yourself.” Hawkeye smiles bright and warm. Like the sun.

And then they're both turning sideways to face one another. Hawkeye's hand is still on BJ's shoulder, light but so, so heavy.

And then Hawkeye kisses him. Sweet and chaste and far too brief.

And BJ wants to cry at how right it feels. How much of a culmination of their entire tumultuous friendship it feels.

At how much it feels like goodbye.

“C'mon, Beej. Let's get you home.”

Hawkeye claps BJ with the hand on his shoulder, brusque and friendly. And Peg's standing on the front porch, waiting for him. And Hawkeye's got a Greyhound ticket back to Maine in his pocket.

They leave the car and head into the house.

[raevenlywrites]

A bit of the Twins

Felt really inspired on this scene, so I thought I'd share. If you remember Lawrence Crane (Bird) and his sarcastic demon, then happy day for you cause here it is again, bothering Bird's sons. Well, "happy" is maybe a bit generous :/

1.6k, angst/trauma memories, dark magic, inherited problems

--

“The cliff is called Lovers’ Last Kiss.”

"How romantic."

A shivering voice came from the darkness, or more specifically, from a patch of darkness that was deeper than the rest, more solid. And vaguely human shaped.

It stepped from the trees but became no less clear, just a shadow extending farther than the tree should be able to cast it. It reminded Orai instantly of how his father's shadow had been Wrong.

"Love has nothing to do with it, my little duckies. Kissing, maybe, but it's the joining that matters, not the emotions or lack thereof."

A wave of revulsion struck Orai and Iaro both, different ends of the same awful moment of their father's history. A girl, chained and struggling, blood and bruises the only things covering her skin. A boy, equally bound and beaten, if that would be more to his taste. And the sour/metallic rage/horror that burned up his throat as the first prickles of magic kissed his skin. He knew that magic, the heady sweet whispering of Cretia's promises of love and devotion--twisted. He had never experienced something so hideous in his life, and he was meant to wield it?

No one said against who, boy.

The voice echoed with the same shivery duality of the too dark shadow's, and both boys broke from the vision/memory with a gasp.

"What the fuck," Orai panted, doubled over on his hands and knees. Spit dribbled from his open mouth, the sickly tang herald of bile yet to come. Beside him, Iaro had not been so lucky. Every bit of dinner came back up and then some.

Damira knelt at Iaro's side, though she kept the shadow in view. She stroked a cool hand over his forehead, brushing away the sick sweat and chasing his hair back.

Khat had instantly put herself between the shadow and the group, a wall of fire hovering midair between them. The flames did nothing to give detail to the dark form.

"Are you alright, Orai?" She called behind her, unwilling to take her eyes from the thing in front of her.

Damira cupped her hands, calling cool water to them as she offered it to Iaro to drink.

"No need to hold onto those nasty memories, my lovelies. Call of your guard mara and I'll eat them back up for you."

If a formless shadow could hold up its hands in a gesture of harmlessness, the one before them did now. It was less seeing and more seeming, and it seemed to be contrite, and a little wistful.

"If I had a prettier way to show you, I would have. But we all have things that Bind us to this world-- well, maybe not this world."

It looked around the dreamscape, shimmering and shifting as it did. The darkness tried to take on a shape, but the two shapes were so opposed they seemed to cancel each other out.

"Its a nice place you've got here. A nice antithesis to its birth. Lovers' First Kiss Island. Cute."

Khat's eyes narrowed, and she called back, "Orai?"

It was Damira who answered. "Draw down the fire, but stand ready."

Clenching her teeth, Khat did so, pulling the fire back into herself, but not fully extinguishing it there.

Orai watched the shadow approach, knowing he knew this spectre from somewhere. It felt like staring into the void, like brushing uncle Naj's power, but different.

"That'd be the Dai bindings, sweets. We all feel a little bit the same, those of us brushed by their evil. Now, may I eat those nasty memories again?"

Orai's eyes widened, as if dilating would make more light bounce off the nothing. But that’s what it was. Not a shadow. An absence of light.

"You're dad's demon."

The being seemed to smile.

"He likes to think so. May I?"

It offered the idea of a hand, and trembling Orai looked to Iaro.

Iaro desperately did not want to scan anymore of the thoughts around him. Not Damira's, not his brother's, and most definitely not the nothing's. But his brother was reaching out. And he would not let his brother down.

He sat up, leaning back into Damira's touch, shielding tighter than he ever had before.

"I don’t want to feel like that ever again."

His voice was low but firm, betraying none of the horror he’d felt.

"I can arrange that," the nothing said.

"I wasn’t talking to you!" Iaro snapped. To Orai, he asked, "Do you trust it?"

Orai was surprised to find the answer was yes.

"Its been with dad for a long time. That's a stupidly long con, if its goal is to harm us now."

Iaro frowned, still not quite ready to unclench.

"Damira? Khat? Any insight?"

Damira smoothed his hair back, feeling her spine straighten as she looked at the darkness.

Her voice low and even, she told Iaro, "If it intended harm to any of us, it would be stupid to intend it on a literal island of our power."

The shadow radiated pleasure and pride.

"Very good, little fish. You should hold onto this one, son of my tether. She's very wise--and very hot."

Iaro grit his teeth so hard they cracked.

"If you speak out of turn one more time I will blast you back into the oblivion from which you first crawled."

Dominion was definitely his brother's gift rather than his own, but Iaro knew his words were not empty. "Son of my tether" was weird, and formal. In it's own way, the nothing was... what? Offering fealty? Trying to sink new tethers? He didn’t care. He would banish this thing and not feel at all bad. He did not like this thing.

Orai reached out, brushing Iaro's arm. Iaro flinched, scales bursting out at the touch. But that action helped soothe him, helped balance out his uncharacteristic display of temper.

"Ia, please. What about dad?"

What about dad indeed. He was mythically old, supposedly. Looking at this darkness, he could believe it. But he also knew if this wretched thing was the only thing keeping his father alive, then better he fall than be sustained by such wrongness.

But it would break Ruby’s heart, and destroy Orai's trust in him. For that, he would let the shadow remain.

But the shadow didn’t need to know that.

"Dad's got plenty of tricks that have nothing to do with this thing." He shot a glare towards the shadow. "Isn’t that right?"

"Exactly so, eijye."

Iaro growled. "Don’t mock me. But thank you for holding your peace. Show us your good faith by taking the memories and nothing more."

"As his father's heir commands."

Orai waited for Iaro to move first. But apparently his suddenly commanding brother was going to watch the shadow for any tricks. Fine then. The sooner Orai was free of this Seeing, the better.

Orai reached for the nothing, and felt a distinct Something, but nothing his mortal mind could name. Still, he was utterly and acutely aware of the thing taking, of a real and quantifiable quality leaving his being. And he was all the better for it. His breath came easier, his body felt lighter, and the air tasted sweeter, almost a tingling quality of delicate starlight kissing his skin. He looked up and saw the stars dancing above him, winking and singing in their endless joy.

"Much better," the shadow murmured. "Such wonderment is more fit this place. I quite approve of your solution for the waste magic, by the way."

"You've said as much," Iaro spit out. More tenderly, he asked his brother, "Rai? You good?"

Orai nodded, feeling the coolness of open tears streaming down his face. He hadn't realized how awful he felt until it was gone. How awful he’d been feeling, for a very, very long time.

He looked to the shadow.

"How far back did you go?"

Iaro's head snapped to the thing, but Orai held out an arm to stop him. The shadow seemed to nod.

"Very shrewd, brother of the heir. I could make the effort to speak plainly, but I have thought in riddles for so long, and it takes much of my attention simply to be here while the father is yet awake."

"Answer the question," Iaro insisted. He didn’t like the nuance of this things phrasing at all.

"Of course. Memory it was named but not memory of the sort called by yellow scales. I lifted the memory of your father's taint, o brother of the heir. And if you so wish it of me, he who speaks with the air of his fathers, I will lift if from you as well."

Iaro was about to order it to speak plainly, but again, Orai bid him hold.

"You mean like a lingering effect, something that ties us to you or the Dai or whatever, inherited from our father's half of the magic."

The shadow nodded. "Just so, my tether's son. It is the greatest thing that connects us, so it has the loudest pull. By your leave, I took the stain of it back into myself, from whence it came. Your magic and person is now free of it."

Iaro gave a soft gasp of understanding.

"That's what drew Damira to me, to us. We shared the magic of Dreaming, and Orai and I shared magic to command the stain."

The shadow clapped in delight. Orai thought he almost saw it do it. Almost.

"Very good, heir of my tether. Well sussed. You have an eye for threads."

Iaro frowned but didn't say anything.

“So what do we do?” Orai asked. Though whether he was asking it of the shadow or his brother, he wasn’t sure.

Iaro’s frown deepened. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean…” There was no delicate way to put this. “If that’s what made this all work, what happens when it’s gone?”

[mego42]

Shamelessly stealing @foxmagpie​’s monthly rec thing without the ability to get my life together to do these on a monthly basis so, seasonal recs! So excited to see if I manage to do this again with anything remotely resembling consistency but i’ve been keeping the notes for approximately 43 years (or since ~september, whatever that means) so by god i’m gonna use them. 

found my thrill - s_t_c_s / @sothischickshe​

Turner POV!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

guys turner is SO OBSESSED with Beth and Rio

both canonically and in this fic

it’s gr9

also features a weirdly soothing and relatable cord untangling moment as a metaphor

truly disturbingly relatable turner pov tbh

relentless boomer disdain, always a plus

led to the creation of this monstrosity, not sure what kind of a monster would do that

War In My Mind - mintletters16

Backread!!!!

post-213, gorgeous character study 

guaranteed to make you feEl stUfF

I really love the like, cyclical, fractured pattern of Beth’s internal monologue, it gives the whole thing a really affecting at times dreamy, at times haunted vibe

the end twist is *chef’s kiss*

mourning bells - Ejunkiet / @ejunkiet​

Backread!!!!

Later s2 era, Rio’s at a funeral, gets drunk and calls Beth

V short, kind of…..mmm, not sweet, but almost? Idk

It’s got a wistful sort of almost/i can be quiet with you vibe that i go extremely bonkers for

delinquents - foxmagpie / @foxmagpie​

Lol are any of you actually not reading this yet?

g o d ch 8 where do i start

First off how ABSOLUTELY VERY DARE for the tragic angst that is delinquents!beth boland. This poor baby, this precious bean. MUST PROTEC

SHE’S TRYING HER BEST AND I LOVE HER

zero percent deserves dean’s clammy hands, no i have not forgotten, tattooed on my brain, will never forgive

I also love love love love LOVE the ruby/stan subplot happening

(and ruby’s mom!!!!!) (seriously though you write the best moms)

oh god and baby beth starting to have confusing feelings about rio?????? *chef’s kiss*

p sure i was just like, straight screaming the entire end of the chapter

the dugout is like, pure serotonin

I can’t even talk about the closet

tHe teNsiOn

thank you i will take eleventy billion

don't give it a hand, offer it a soul - medievalraven / @medievalraven

am a desperate heaux for any fic that features rio and mick friendship

you are all incredibly shocked i know

still would not be mad if this swerved into rio x mick fake dating but beth x rio is cool too i guess

Speaking of things i am a desperate heaux for: DIANE!!!!!!!!

and DATING ANNIE???????????? Blessed

honestly this fic is worth it purely for the assertion that mick watches queer eye

Why don't we go to Venus? - watermelonriddles / @bensonstablers​

another grief study! 

apparently i was working through some stuff in september, idk, that was like 4 years ago

considering it’s the premise of the fic, i don’t think it’s a spoiler to say this fic is canon divergent and working with the premise that rio killed beth in 302

he is uh, not coping well

extremely haunted you might say

lots of marcus and rhea which is a delight!

rhea is to good for him tbh

i said what i said

truly top notch dream (nightmare?) sequences

the conversation at the end is extremely uncalled for

drop the game - Ejunkiet / @ejunkiet​

Backread!!!!

Am going to die mad Beth and Rio didn’t hook up in 211 but luckily this fic scratched the itch 

(temporarily, it’s a fairly permanent itch)

Bonus rec: missing scene series i wanna do bad things to you featuring 2x02 and 2x04

Viva Voce - zetuslapetus / @querenaxx​

Whoops we woke up married Vegas shenanigans!! 

So cute!!!!! So sexy!!!!! 

What more do you want?

am desperately obsessed with how beth can’t help stalking rio

feels right, feels organic

this makes me feel a lot of stuff about how they could be without their canon garbage between them

🎶 we could’ve had it aaaaaaaaaaall 🎶

you showed me colors (i can't see them with anyone else) - gild_fire / @gild-and-fire​

really into the use of color to illustrate beth’s emotional state, i feel like there’s a word for that but idk what it is

UNIMPORTANT

really nice job capturing beth’s inner vulnerability balanced by her outer stubbornness

am DESPERATELY into Mick playing matchmaker

more please???????

Both Sides of the Law - JoeyLee / @joeyjoeylee​

LAW SCHOOL AU! I suuuuuuper love Beth and Rio here (alt pov!! a gift!!!!) I love how initially prickly they are, I love how it’s evolving into a grudging respect, I love how INCREDIBLY AND HILARIOUSLY OBSESSED WITH EACH OTHER THEY ARE and neither one of them seems to see it

listen I know we’re all already foaming at the mouth over this one but as it’s gonna go down as one of my all time favorites it bears repeating/rereccing

cannot stress enough how masterful the use of POV is here, both voices feel completely true and distinct and I love how the alternating chapters revisit, reveal and emphasize pieces of each other

i can’t talk about this fic without hyperventilating

I LOVE IT SO MUCH YOU GUYS

the slow burn is going to ACTUALLY KILL ME

rip, no regrats

Earned It - wakeupflawless / @wakeupflawless​

spanking

that’s it that’s the pitch

H O T

living for beth’s exit in the first chapter, rio and i are both incredibly into it

second chapter also features violently possessive Rio who cannot deal with anyone messing with his girl so if that’s your thing boy howdy get on it

shake, baby, shake - openhearts

backread!!!!!

according to my bookmarks this was a reread but ???????

must’ve read it in the fugue state that followed reading for a moment we were strangers which is gr9 and I believe I have recced it before. If not, horrible oversight, reccing it now

beth and Rio POV lead up to the bathroom break, beautifully done, low-key feel bad reccing it bc the end point of both chapters makes me want to throw things but it’s super worth it for the tEnsiOn. ENJOY

What the Sea Wants, the Sea Will Have - flashindie / @pynkhues​

I’m assuming all of y’all are already reading this

If not OH MY GOD FIX YOUR LIVES

P I R A T E  A U

I’m sorry maybe you didn’t hear me piRaTE aU

meticulously researched, brain-meltingly vibrant, already painfully sexy slow-burning PIRATE AU

god where to start okay so first off, the world-building here straight up breaks my brain, sophie’s put in the work and it SHOWS

second, the atmosphere. i’m generally a pretty like, vague mental picture sort of reader but the sensory detail here grabs you by the throat and like, forcibly hauls you in whether your brain’s wired that way or no

and hey speaking of throats if you, like me, go a little funny about the knees at the idea of beth holding a knife to rio’s throat (he’s fine, calm down), there’s a v excellent beth-in-a-barrel moment for you

oh christ and the sexy tension

it’s gonna be a race to see which slow burn takes me out first, this or law school

Stunner - foxmagpie / @foxmagpie​

Another high school AU, this time with baby Rio absolutely head over heels for his older sister’s bff

stunner!Rio has an emotional earnestness about him that I feel like delinquents!Rio has already outgrown and it’s so SWEET I can’t get enough

Desperately cute!!!!!!

alL he waNts iS foR beTh tO bE hiS girL

also unreasonably angsty???????

ANN ARBOR IS NOT THAT FAR MEGAN

A Heart's A Heavy Burden - tooshyforthis / @bathroombreaks​

Howl’s Moving Castle AU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I love Howl’s!!!!!!!!!!!

perfect opp to roast Rio for being a Dramatique Heaux 

and it’s gonna be 9 chapters?????? H Y P E

author’s note boldly presumes I did not know I needed this AU when the reality is I did in fact know I needed this AU, I just wasn’t expecting anyone to deliver

so blessed

author also claims to not be team nose stud and yet it features prominently in all its magnificent glory

what is the truth dot gif

A Bit of a Stretch - septiembre / @septiembur​

SO????? CUTE?????????

would be on this list for Rio calling Beth E alone tbh

really really really really really love this Rio POV of being settled into a relationship with Beth

It manages to be sweetly domestic af while still holding the edge that makes brio brio which is a neat trick

@septiembur may be a witch

beth’s approach to getting rio to do yoga with her is hilarious and exactly right, canon-typical amounts of subtlety 

1000000/10

Post Break-Up Sex - femalegothic / @bethsuglywigs​

stg this was called Hit Shuffle

no matter

h O T

with a side of damn i’ve made some questionable choices in my life haven’t i introspection

(no regrats tho)

(esp not with this fic)

not the point of the fic by a long shot but i’m also extremely obsessed with Weed Eddie, so real

She drains my soul... she drains it not - niham87 / @niham87​

ABSOLUTELY OBSESSED WITH THIS CONCEPT

am a complete sucker for paranormal world building that satirizes bureaucracy 

Is that a trope? If so that’s my favorite

I did it. I’m picking a single favorite. You know what that is growth dot gif

ANYWAY i love the concept, i love the humor, i love beth instantly clicking with annie

I love her and mick’s sort of grudging professional courtesy

Love beth as a champion of environmental responsibility and all of the underworld being like …...okay??

cannot wait to see where this goes

Nine-Tenths - riosnecktattoo / @riosnecktattoo​

*INCOHERENT PTERODACTYL SCREECHING*

sometimes i think about rio putting beth’s hair in a ponytail and have to go lie down

science please explain why this rUinS mE

wait hold on i skipped ahead

HEY KIDS DO YOU LIKE UNBEARABLY CUTE DOMESTIC TENDERNESS

opens with rio sleepily holding beth’s hand to his heart so that’s the kind of thing you’ll be dealing with

uGH theY’RE sO CUTe

idk why precisely but rio adding hair ties to his bracelet collection is my undoing every time

Missed Call - foxmagpie / @foxmagpie​

Rio doesn’t come home from a job when he’s supposed to. Beth (and I!!!!!!!) slowly loses her mind

Truly a masterpiece of rising tension

Will literally never forgive her for calling this light angst

I was SO STRESSED OUT

The first person to point out there was an author’s note at the beginning I obvs didn’t read is getting blocked

crush - foxmagpie / @foxmagpie​

Listen even though this is centered around two OCs, they are OCs FROM a (n iconic) brio fic AND Beth, Ruby and Rio all make cameos (I mean, Rio’s pretty present since he lives in Mar’s mind rent free bc they are THE SWEETEST MOST ADORABLE BEST OF FRIENDS so idk if i’d call it a cameo but whatever)

and even if it didn’t feature any official GG characters I’d still rec is bc that’s mY SON AND this fic is TOO CUTE

I have so many feelings over mar and rio growing up and not knowing how to cope with girls becoming a Thing in their life and how it affects their friendship and mar feeling left behind but (SPOILERS) at the end of the story rio starts feeling that too and it’s so poignant knowing how that’s going to continue in delinquents

while mar may be my son, i also claim elena’s #1 stan status

before you’re like meg you’re only reccing it bc it’s a bday present ask yourselves do i really strike you as the kind of person that wouldn’t be equally obnoxious about this either way?

truly cannot fathom how hard i have fallen for these OCs i don’t normally do that

@foxmagpie is definitely a witch

The Ottoman - Niham87 / @niham87​

look i will be the first to admit that i don’t go near as bonkers over the ottoman line in 308 as y’all do

(don’t get me wrong, i love it!!! I love that he laughs and i love that she’s pleased it just doesn’t hit my lose my whole mind button like idk, the dubby or the 306 convo, idk why)

BUT i v v v much love the context this delightful Rio POV pwp gives it

am also absolutely feral for 209 missing scene fic

and anything that captures the complexity of Rio’s s3 feelings for Beth and how twisted they’ve become

so this scratches a bunch of itches, is what i’m trying to say

Bet On It - zetuslapetus / @querenaxx​

*INCOHERENT PTERODACTYL SCREECHING*

That’s what my brain does when I think about Beth and Rio meeting in ch 1

am DESPERATELY OBSESSED WITH the tension between the two of them in this fic

I love how it plays with the ways they have to rely on but don’t trust each other

plus FAKE DATING and BED SHARING (fair warning hasn’t happened yet but the set up is there)

originally supposed to be 2 chapters, already up to 4, prayer circle it goes on forever

do you like drugs (tonight) - s_t_c_s / @sothischickshe​

v important focus on hydration, other fic should take note

extremely about the use of cut to and then flashback to enhance the ‘we were on drugs’ vibe

speaking of, beth and rio absolutely would take ecstasy to prove they are fun bc they are the exact kind of idiots that would peer pressure themselves

so glad beth kept her purse, got a bit stressed there for a second, clutches in that kind of circumstance are A Risk

not that i would know

FLAWLESS USE OF VOICEMAIL TBH

really love the ongoing denial that they are remotely into each other while proceeding to demonstrate how they are in fact, extremely into each other, great vibe

rio dances

I know my brain broke too

mmmm bacon

Navigate A Broken Path - flashindie / @pynkhues​

*INCOHERENT PTERODACTYL SCREECHING*

I have a long standing tradition of getting unreasonably obsessed with side characters so i’m not like, entirely surprised by how obsessed i am with both Mick and Mary Pat but i never in a million years considered them as a ship

AND Y E T

they fit????? so perfectly?????? It’s amazing how she developes them individually enough that i look at them together and think ah yes this makes perfect sense for both characters

and they’re such an amazing foil to Beth and Rio? 

can ships have foils? do i know what a foil is? 

unimportant

GUYS you dON’T uNDERStAN d 

hell i don’t understand

how absolutely very dare you make me care about YET ANOTHER set of gg ‘verse children

do not read this fic if you have no interest in feelings you zero percent asked for

wHA t hAPPeNED iN aLASkA?????????

A Moment’s Silence - femalegothic / @bethsuglywigs​

*makes sign of the cross*

y’all are gonna make me rediscover religion

extremely appreciate the author’s note approach to backstory top notch prioritization

listen it’s basically 3k of beth deep throating rio idk what more you need me to say about it

it is…..good stuff

bless the kinkmeme or fest whatever we’re calling it

praise - civillove / @blainesebastian​

I mean you had me at “three times rio calls beth a good girl and one time he really means it”

ephemeral rio

I left that note for myself in here in the middle of the night and haven’t the foggiest what i was thinking but i stand by it none the less

okay okay i think i know what i meant, this fic (as do all of my fav civillove brio fics) has this sort of like, liminal, in the quiet moments feel to them that makes the moments and feelings somehow feel like i’m catching a glimpse of something secret and precious???

idk i just really like it okay

Heart and Soul - riosnecktattoo / @riosnecktattoo​

oh look more unbearably sweet domestic tenderness, this time to music

thank you ma’am for my life

rio remembers beth used to play piano and gets her one and revoltingly cute shenanigans result

also hilarity

and sexiness

this fic has it all, truly

shout out to mick who sees no reason to keep rio’s feelings to himself

good girls tumblr fic - prettylittlementirosa / @hypermania​​

cheating and reccing a whole series

It’s my list and i can do what i wanna

stop crying about it, it’s four fics and they’re all AMAZING absolutely impossible to pick a fav

truly flawless characterization, next level ability to capture evocative mood, cannot get enough

three’s a crowd: who knew ballroom dancing while dean watches and grinds his teeth could be so sexy 

(trick question everything about that premise sounds A++++ and boy howdy does it live up)

feel it on the way home: rio tries to break up with beth, it goes about as well as you’d expect

(thE angSty tenSioN)

i want to play the game: [from the floor] i’m still not ready to talk about it

(rio/turner, missing scene, 10000000% a taste of what went down in that hotel room)

june after dark: pitch perfect annie pov, really really love the take that Annie is the baby whisperer, can’t fully explain why but it feels incredibly right

(ANNIE X NANCY COULD WORK SO WELL YOU GUYS)