#who needs stars? we've got a roof

[powderblueblood]

HELLFIRE & ICE — eddie munson x f!oc as enemies to star-crossed lovers

CHAPTER SIX — IN MY ORBIT

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summary: it's escape from new york, if by new york you mean eddie munson's trailer. he knows you need to stay away from him, you know he needs to stay away from you, but honey... who else is gonna tell him there's an 'e' in roane county? content warnings: MINORS DNI obviously, my god. we've got your usual here-- mentions of masturbation, both male and female, white hot motherfucking yearning of the sexual and emotional kind, a surprise nancy wheeler, little women references, sticking it to the teacher we don't need no education style, eddie munson says acab word count: 12.2k

Dear hooker from the Christmas card in Minneapolis, can you shut the fuck up? I need to think!

Dear Bilbdoolpoolp, you nutty sea bitch goddess, do me a solid and send me a diversion– tear the roof off this trailer– I need to think!

Dear Lacy, quit looking at me like I just bit the head off your Virginia Woolf doll. I want to suck face with you so bad, like really goddamn bad, and you seem like you want to do it to me as well, what with your whole, like, big doe eyes and all that shit, but I need.

To think. 

It’s not what Eddie wants to clamp over your mouth, but it’s what you’re getting. His hand, his whole ringed hand, which takes up the better part of your face so all he can see is your eyes flashing from possibly turned on (jury’s still out) to confused to plain angry. 

“Mmmphmph!” you squeal against his hand, and he pulls his most panicked, most pleading expression out of the bag. 

“Lacy! Lacy. Lay-cee,” he hisses, teeth grit and spittle flying,”Do me a favor, do me a favor for once in your life and be. Cool. Be cool.”

His fingers slide from your mouth and your jaw is set all hard. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?!”

Right. Ice princess. Totally. Totally. “When I said be cool, I meant be quiet!”

“Ed.” That gruff rumble is coming from right outside his door. Eddie holds an index finger to his lips, and motions, like a goddamn kindergarten teacher, for you to do the same. Because that’s all you seem to understand. And you roll your eyes, but you do it anyway. And he– fuck, you’re cute. 

“Yee-aah?” he calls back, tone about as even as the Appalachian mountains. 

“Can I–”

“No!” Eddie barks, seeing that door handle twist a fraction of an inch. What would Wayne do, if he caught you in here? Would his brain explode all over the trailer? Would that be the end of the last truly good Munson family member? I mean, probably not, but he’d be all disappointed in Eddie and that would be worse. So much worse. “I’m not… Decent.”

You, still with your finger planted in the indent of your cupid’s bow, do a bad job of suppressing a snort. “Who are you, Rita Hayworth?” you hiss, and Eddie raises his hand to seal your stupid lips up again. Stupid. Lippy. Stupid lips. You bat it away, motioning like, okay, I’ll be cool!

Who the fuck is Rita Hayworth, anyway?!

“Well. Get decent,” Wayne says, a single knuckle rapping on the door–that means get movin’, “Need to talk to you.” 

And far be it from Eddie to keep the man he’s effectively betraying by stowing you away in his bedroom waiting. Up like a shot, he lifts the needle from the skipping record, pausing by the door before he heads out to meet his fate. 

He can tell by the look on your face that he’s blown this. Whatever it is– was. He had a perfect precipice of a moment, and he’d totally shot himself in the foot. But Eddie would sooner see you alive and unkissed than dead of pneumonia in the freezing rain, ‘kay? Call him a hero, whatever. 

“Just–”

“--shut the fuck up,” you whisper, hands drawn up in surrender. Realizing that there’s nothing funny about this situation. “I got it.”

The door whumps closed behind him, shaking the entire trailer in its wake, and you wait all of three seconds before racing to it and pressing your ear up against the paint-chipped wood. 

What’s going on out there? Is it about me?

How could it be about you? Unless Munson’s uncle had some kind of sixth sense, some breach in his cerebrum that alerted him once you crossed the threshold of his precious trailer. Come to think of it, you don’t remember seeing a second bedroom in this thing. 

You’d be lying if that didn’t elicit a little pang of pride– my trailer’s better than your trailer, you jealous? Doesn’t answer the question of where the Munson uncle sleeps, but at least you and your mother had a two-bedder. 

To your flaring frustration, the Munson men have opted to use an indecipherable muttering gravelly man octave with which to discuss this pressing business. That could or could not be about you. Insanely inconsiderate that this is the one time that Eddie Munson isn’t the loudest voice in the room, a ball of fury and sound and action knocking over everything in its wake. When it was the one time you actually wanted to hear what he had to say.

You also regret to inform yourself that that wasn’t all you wanted from him, up until about forty-five seconds ago. 

The white-hot embarrassment of being caught ready to throw a leg over him–the white hot embarrassment of being caught holding onto his wrist in the record store, of him catching you falling out of his van–descends over you in a wave that almost takes you out at the knees. 

But you’d wanted it– you did, in one suspended moment that you couldn’t pawn off on being high or drunk or wildly angry, sobbing soaked out in the rain. You had looked at Eddie Munson, in his dark, bottomless eyes and took in his slope of a Grecian nose and his dumb, effusive mouth with the pink lips and the pretty teeth and you had wanted it. Him. Him and the nebulous it that he would inevitably end up doing to you. 

He wanted you back. You thought. 

When Eddie slips back into his bedroom, you’re peeking through his blinds. Your trailer remains in total darkness, that criminal slip of a key obviously still jammed in the lock. You look over your shoulder at him and his brow is set in such a weird and distant crease that you think– shit. Maybe I hallucinated all that. Maybe that was all me. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, voice flat and near silent. What happened out there?

“My mom,” you start, “She…”

Never came home, is where you were going with it, but you don’t get to finish. “Okay,” he says, all absent. He flicks off the bedroom lamp as he passes it, this unconscious motion that leaves you both stranded in a blue-tinged darkness. 

In the moments it takes your eyes to adjust, he’s sitting next to you on the bed.  

“I’m gonna sleep on the floor,” he tells you. His irises are shiny and hard and serious.

Oh. The kind of tension you want to poke at. 

“Don’t be stu–” 

“I’m not bein’ stupid, Lacy.” 

You blink. Your faces are close. In the dark, the fractals of him would be easier to not remember in the daylight. You could pick out the parts you wanted–his cheekbone, his jutting jawline, the sloping corner of his mouth–and not puzzle them together in the morning. You could separate it. It could be fine. A non-event. 

“It’s cold,” you press, your voice low and solid, “and you don’t have another comforter.”

“How do you know that.”

Lucky guess. “I just do.” Just let me have this without having to ask for it.

I am a little afraid, I don’t know of what, and you’re the last solid thing I can grab onto.

Or lay next to. 

“What side of the bed do you sleep on?” 

“All of it.” God, he’s so obstinate. 

“Pick a favorite.” 

His mouth–his mouth–scrunches up the way a shitting cat’s might. You puncture the silence with a visible shiver. This staredown is horrible. 

“Fuck. Fine.” Point to Lacy. Eddie, arms out, gestures to the side of the bed furthest from the door. “Get comfy.”

In a scramble, you dig yourself under the comforter, pulling it all the way up to your chin. But now the shivering has started, and there’s no sign of stopping it– real, muscle seizing, teeth-chattering shivering. 

Eddie mumbles something like Jesus Christ, or God help me or some other plea for mercy, and slides in beside you, pitching himself at the very edge of the mattress. Arms folded over his chest. 

“You gotta quit shaking!” he hisses.

“I am fuh-reezing!” you seethe back. 

You kick your knees up into your arms, facing away from him and curling yourself in the tightest of balls and really, really working hard on calming down your wracking because, honestly? Little embarrassing.  

The mattress crreeaaaks. A shift in weight.

“Are you really that cold?”

You put that shaking to good use and nod in the affirmative. “Ice princess, right?”

Like you were putting this on for show. God, he’s such an asshole. 

The way he gulps is borderline cartoonish. “Okay.” A shaky breath. “But we have to not make this weird.”

The mattress shifts again and you feel his weight edge closer to you. You relax a little from the fetal position, head craning to peer over your shoulder. He was– hovering, as much as one could hover when lying in a horizontal position. 

“Munson, are you trying to cu–”

“Stop it. Stop making it weird. I’ll throw your ass out that window and it’s a cold snap and you’re already cold blooded so you’ll, like, double fucking freeze to death.”

But he wouldn’t. Of that you were fairly confident. 

Eddie’s hand edges toward your waist, positioning his front side ever closer to your back, which feels… not horrible at all, until–

“No. Nope. That’s not gonna work.”

You have to bite back a smile. Boys. Boys and their stupid, simple penises.

He flops back against the mattress, head angled to the ceiling. Awkwardly, he jigs an arm up, like some puppeteer’s yanking his string. His hand hits you square in the back of the head.

“Ow–”

“Shut up. Get under here.”

Slowly, and almost shyly, you rotate your shivering body a cool one-eighty degrees and find him concentrating resolutely on the ceiling. You glance up. There’s black mold on that ceiling. You wish you had noticed that before, but when up shit creek, et cetera. Inching and inching, you settle in next to him, head nestling into his armpit. 

His arm gingerly curves around you.

You bring your hands up to your mouth, fingers curled in fists like a little kid. 

Your leg brushes against his, accidentally, racking up the leg of his flannel pants. You can feel the hair against your bare calf– strong, ticklish.

And you can hear his heart.

Jackrabbity. Thu-thump-thu-thump-thu-thump.

So’s yours.

He is so warm. 

“Hey,” he whispers, tone a little softer this go around, “Can I ask you something?”

You do a tiny swallow and hope it’s not obvious. “I guess.”

“... Does it stink down there?”

Eddie Munson smells like cigarette and soap and that warm smell from the dryer. You inhale and hope it’s not obvious.

“Yes. You’re ripe. It’s disgusting.”

“Good. ‘night, Lacy.”

“Goodnight, Eddie.”

–

Eddie wakes up with a painful inhale and two of his rings tangled in your hair. 

Shit! Fucking shit! See, he was supposed to stay awake, stay alert, make sure Wayne didn’t like, suddenly develop a tendency to sleepwalk and stumble into his room while you were all… curled up next to him. With your freezing little ice blocks for feet. And your lashes fanned out across your cheeks. And your tiny little kitten snores, you goddamn bitch. 

But for as freaked out as he was–and is, girl in his actual human bed and everything–Eddie started nodding off here and there. And suddenly, here and there became the morning sun beaming directly into his stinking retinas from a crack in the blinds. 

He is now hyper-aware of your hand curled beneath his sternum and your boobs pressing against his side.

The following procedure needs to be handled delicately, like a bomb.

Because the other thing, among all the other other things, is Woody fuckin’ Woodpecker has come calling this morning too. 

Now, blue sky situation, ideal world, you’d just be able to scoot that hand a little lower and help him out with such an issue. But since he blew any shot of you wanting that along with any semblance of dignity he held in your eyes last night, that is a no-go. 

He needs a Bible level miracle to will himself soft and untangle his rings from your hair without you waking up. And he also needs to wake you up and smuggle you the ever-loving fuck out of his trailer. 

Careful, careful, careful– he starts picking strands out from around the silver, wondering how the hell he let himself just… tousle his hand around in your hair without, I’unno, getting turned into a pile of dust.

Then you make this noise– this little mewl, like mmnnrgh?, and Eddie’s entire body skips a beat. He needs to commit it to memory, record it to the ongoing multi-track mixtape he’s unconsciously been creating in his mind. Lacy’s Greatest Hits, featuring dick-in-fist chart toppers such as Who Died and Made You My Parole Officer?, Sorry, I Don’t Teach Remedial, and an eight hour loop of you saying his name. Eddie. Eddie. Eddie.

He wants to pull you on top of him, rings-in-hair and all, and kiss all the broken little mmnnrgh?s out of you ‘til you don’t have the breath to make any more. ‘til all you’ve got is his name on your tongue, your Siberian cold hands under his shirt. 

And if he keeps thinking thoughts like this, he’s gonna kill himself!

This is not helping. You are not helping. 

With some absolutely saint-worthy maneuvering on his part, Eddie gets his fingers free of your hair, but it’s not the gentle tug that wakes you up–

It’s a certain eardrum-perforating WHOOP-WHOOP.

Eddie Munson never thought he’d see the day where he was thanking whoever down there that’s lookin’ out for him for the sound of a cop car. Instant boner killer.

But also–

“Issat-thefuckin’-cops?” you slur at an almost normal volume, rising from underneath Eddie’s arm. 

He shushes you, all harsh and wiry and you’ve just woken up, bleary-eyed and not yet able to comprehend your surroundings. Which, boy howdy. He darts to the window like an animal alarmed, peering out through the blinds. 

“Oh, you gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

“What’s happening?” you whisper-ask, slapping consciousness into yourself with a palm to either cheek.

“Lacy, on a scale from one to ten,” Eddie seethes, scanning his view from the window, “How likely is your mom to report you as a missing person in under 24 hours?”

Your stomach drops with an acidic, awful clunk. Going out and making a fool of us. Your mom, caring only when she absolutely has to. 

“Eleven.” 

Eddie turns his big, siren-eyed stare on you. 

“Then we gotta get you outta here. Like. Yesterday.”

You, now, you’re at a total loss. A total loss that’s made your blood turn bad under your skin, a total loss that has made you want to strangle your own mother, but a total loss where it actually matters. “I can’t believe she’d–!”

“Don’t matter, sweetheart! Does noooot matter– this the first time you ever got the cops called on you or something?”

You blink, remembering red and blue lights outside of your house in Loch Nora. But that wasn’t for you. Technically. Figures why you suddenly feel morning-sick nauseous, though. 

“Well, mazel tov,” Eddie says, misreading the memory and starting toward his door. 

You scramble for him, tugging at him by the bottom of his t-shirt. “Where are you going?!” 

“Running interference. We need a distraction,” he tells you, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Okay, sorry for not being an accomplished criminal.

“Interference. Yeah. You’re good at that.”

He hits you with a sneer. “Not my first rodeo. You post up by that window and watch– when the coast is clear, I’ll give you a signal.” 

“And then what?” 

“And then– and then what?!” Eddie gasps, totally incredulous that you’d even try to ask– to seek his guidance, or whatever, “And then you’re on your own, kid! I’m already about to throw a match into the powder keg of your stupid hot mom, I’m not gonna stick around to watch her blow up!”

A quiver escapes your pinched lips, one that nearly says don’t go. 

You’ve been taking care of yourself for a long time. That’s not the problem. The problem is tasting what it’s like when somebody helps you and realizing you haven’t had your fill. That, and your mother’s wrath which is your father’s wrath if you blow your cover and word gets back that you were hanging out in Al Munson’s boy’s trailer. 

Nuclear fallout. Worse than Eddie’s room. 

Eddie notices that you’ve been quiet a half-beat too long– and not just because you are both pressed for time, he puts his hands on your shoulders. Reassuringly, hurriedly. He shakes you, pump-pump, snap out of it. 

You’re still gripping the hem of his t-shirt. 

“Hey.” His voice is quieter. “This is gonna be fine.” 

“Before you go out there, I– I need to ask you something.” It’s all compulsion. Why are you helping me? Why are you being nice to me? I don’t deserve you being nice to me. 

Do you regret not kissing me last night? Do you regret not doing it right now? What am I supposed to do if I regret it too? 

“Lacy?”

“Did you fuck Cass Finnigan in the ass?” Oh, yeah, there it fucking is.

Complete bafflement. Eddie seems to completely short circuit, powering back to life with a groan. “Wh– how did you know that?”

You huff, because it’s all you can do. 

“I’m the goddamn Oracle of Delphi.” Finally, your vice grip of his shirt loosens. “Well. Go get ‘em, tiger.” 

Okay, insulting.

Eddie stalks out of the room, head reeling on several different strata levels. By someone’s infernal grace, Wayne has already left for the day–it’s 7AM; way to get a headfirst start on inconveniencing the boys in blue, Lacy’s mom–so Eddie has ample space to flail his arms around wildly, frustratedly, cursing himself out before grabbing his uncle’s insulated parka from the coat rack and heading out the front door. 

“Officers,” he says, half-wishing the zip on the jacket would choke him out so he wouldn’t have to put himself in the line of fire like this, and for what. “What’s uuuup?”

“Perfect.” That clipped yap comes from behind a cloud of smoke, teeming out of your mother huffing back a Dunhill. “There’s the little curr himself. Ask him where my daughter is, why don’t you.”

Well, now Eddie sees where you get it from. 

“Shouldn’t you be on your way to school, son?” one of the officers (Callahan, if Eddie’s last speeding-ticket-receiving memory serves) drawls, clearly not all too concerned with the happenings here. But, considering to your mom, who can resist a Blanche DuBois type in a crisis, right? Definitely runs in the family. 

Eddie lets his tongue loll out in an exaggerated hack-cough. “Sick day.” 

“Then you oughta be inside, right?” Cops, man. Our nation’s greatest thinkers.

“I would be,” he says, taking on the haughty tone of– well, of your mother, “was it not for that obnoxious weew-weew of yours rousing me from my sick bed.” He even clutches at the lapels of the coat, shivering for effect. That one’s for you, baby.

“And y’know what, while we’re on the subject of noise…” You weren’t wrong when you said that he’s good at running interference– because he’s good at being a nuisance. “I’ve been meaning to put a call into you guys. You guys, police guys.” Eddie moves to stand in the negative space between your trailers, however many feet it is. 

“See how much distance it is from here–” he points to his trailer where, if you’re not totally fucking this up, you’re watching from the slits in the blinds of his bedroom, “--to here?” Other arm goes up. He’s standing there like Christ the freakin’ Redeemer, and the cops’ attention is pulled right to him because he’s got priors and he might do something weird and they’re idiots. Your mom is all about Eddie too, forgetting to be concerned and distraught for half a moment. 

Munsons have that effect on people. 

“... yeah?” Callahan says, prompting a wild-eyed Eddie to go on. 

“I should not be there,” again, a nod to his own trailer, “and be able to hear Englebert Humperdinck from in here.” He waves a wild arm toward your trailer, edging a couple steps closer to it. Big ol’ brown eyes here locks his gaze on your momma. “Lady, that’s crazy. What are you doing playing ballads that loud?!” 

Lacy Sr goldfishes back at him, mouth bobbing, presumably-last-night’s lipstick bleeding. Still so very hot. 

“I mean, look, I get it, you’re writing a letter to daddy in jail–and that sucks, and if you need company, you know where to find me–but can’t you do it a little quieter?” Eddie says, a wholly believable impression of a flabbergasted man. The cops almost seem to buy it. 

“I am not in there playing records–” “Right, you’re too busy letting your daughter go missing under your nose. Listen, ma’am, this might not be Loch Nora, but around here, we got respect for our neighbors!” Oh, he is a honey-glazed Christmas ham. 

A honey-glazed Christmas ham that is advancing towards your trailer door and dragging the attention of the attending adults with him, indicating you with a subtle two-finger salute that you better get out of his. 

You snap the blinds back into place. Motherfucking go time. Until you realize that you have no shoes to speak of, just your book bag and whatever’s left of your steely reserve. You’d tossed your sneakers into that bag with your sodden cheerleader get-up– where the hell was that now? 

You shove on the sizes-too-big work boots by the door and make it happen. 

Eddie’s out there just pantomiming like his life depends on it and you take the steps in front of his trailer two at a time, as silently as is humanly possible– and fuck, it’s cold out here, but the cold helps! The cold makes you faster, more decisive, more agile simply down to the fact that you need to get out of the fucking cold. Adrenaline is sparking off at the base of your throat, making you a little dizzy but a lot determined. 

You catch Eddie’s eye as you sneak, sneak, sneak around the back of your trailer. He gives you a not entirely subtle thumbs up and yells, “Yes! Yes, I think it’s an issue pressing enough for the law, I am a goddamned high school senior! I can’t study if the dulcet tones of Paul Anka are breaking my focus every five minutes!” 

“Thought it was Englebert Humperdinck?”

“She’s got a catalog of records on her like you wouldn’t believe!” 

Then it’s just hands on the outside of the trailer, feeling around for like, a trap door, some loose paneling, anything. 

“Oh, so we couldn’t have sprung for a model with a freaking back door?!” But a window is kind of like a back door, you realize, and you’re a goddamn cheerleader. You’ve got a core of steel.

A lot of elbow grease is required to slide open the window of your tiny living room, but by god do you crank that thing. Army rolling onto the couch and into a bunch of boxes of breakables–living mausoleum, great to see you again–you freeze. That’s a lot of clattering. 

“Did you hear that?” Your mother’s voice. 

“I’m shocked you can hear anything at the volume you’re playing those Rat Pack records, duchess.” Eddie. You choke out a silent laugh as you dash to your bedroom.’

Alright. Alright. I gotta make it look like I was up to something… First word that comes to mind? Slutty. Because that’ll make the police no longer give a shit what you were doing (she brought it on herself) and effectively redirect your mother’s rage. 

Hands tear off the borrowed boxers and Stooges shirt and grab the first thing in your mess of half-unpacked clothes. A form-fitting jersey dress in dark blue, which you throw on without thinking of underwear. A calf-length pea coat on top of that. The nearest pair of loafers to go with. You’re not formulating this outfit, okay, but one cursory look in the mirror and it sure does scream walk of shame. 

But at least it doesn’t scream walk of shame from trailer across the way. 

Then, your front door creaks. “No, I know I heard something in here…”

Fuck! Fucking fucker! As delicately as humanly possible–so, not very–you ease yourself out of your own bedroom window, book bag in tow. 

I’ve gotta make this look believable.

You land on the ground with a soft thump, mere feet from your front door. There, Eddie is holding up the rear of the party walking into your trailer. You, not a goddamned second to lose, break into a soft jog and do a fucking make-believe loop around Eddie’s place, heart hammering in your ears. 

You, a professional in willing your own reality, call out a super convincing, “Mom?” as you approach your trailer from the opposite side. 

As if you just got here. 

“Lacy?!” she squawks, darting right back out from whence she came. She barrels past Eddie, the two Hawkins police officers following close behind. 

“What is… going on?” you ask. Lying– you come by it natural. 

“Where the hell have you been?!” your mom shrieks, and she would slap the shit out of you if she could. You see that much in her fiery eyes. “You know, I came home this morning to a key broken off in the lock of our door and you were nowhere to be found! Nowhere!”

You cannot help yourself, unable to stomach her self-righteous display of motherly concern. “So where the hell have you been ‘til this morning, Mom?”

Her mouth hardens into a line. Comin’ real close to getting backhanded in front of the cops. 

“I came back after cheerleading last night,” you explain, eyes going all earnest and wide as you include the cops in your little spin– paying special attention to Callahan, because he’s not not a little cute, okay? “It was raining like crazy, and I was trying to unlock the door and–you know how that lock sticks, Mom–my key just broke off! In the door! I was like, gee, what do I do? And you weren’t home, Mom. And I had no idea how I could reach you. Mom.” The second she gets you alone, she’s going to strangle you. Worth it, for the look on her face. “So I went to a friend’s.”

Callahan seems to drink in your disheveled appearance. “A friend’s, huh?”

“Just a friend’s, Officer,” you simper, batting your eyelashes, trying to steam up the little piggy’s horn-rimmed glasses. “Promise.”

In the near background, Eddie Munson silently gags. You have to force the corners of your mouth down to keep from smiling.

“I’m so sorry to have wasted your time, gentlemen.” Your mom’s chipped manicure tightens around your bicep. “Get inside that house. Now.” 

“Hardly a house. Doesn’t even have a goddamn back door.” 

The cops give a good ol’ salute and get to getting, their quota for community service just about totalled for the day. Passing by Eddie on your way to the front door, your mom rolls her eyes. “Typical.”

Over your shoulder, you throw him a twisty little grimace. A mouthed thank you. Seriously.

“You ladies keep that racket down, now,” he calls and watches your mom muscle you past the doorway. 

Slam goes the door, the trailer seeming to shudder with it. And then it’s quiet. Still. Eddie sighs out a big, cold lungful, his eyes trained on your front door. Without the immediate distraction of you, the memory of last night’s hushed and furrowed conversation with Wayne gathers over him like a stormcloud, heavy with thunder, pregnant with rain. 

Your dad called.

Al Munson never calls. He just shows up. He never calls, unless he’s trying to take the temperature of a place. A place that’s recently been occupied by a family he had a significant part in completely blowing up– yours.

Eddie has… no idea what he’s supposed to do about that. 

Because Eddie Munson deals in absolutes. 

And he, unfortunately, evidently, obviously, absolutely cannot stay away from you now. 

–

So following the events of that fateful Friday, you had no good goddamn idea how to behave. You spend the weekend without a single sighting of Eddie Munson, much to your confusing chagrin, and you really did try your very best to behave normally about this. 

But for the first time in a long time, you were completely alone. 

No chittering friends to distract you. No stilted lunches with your mother. No conversations into rusted handsets through shatterproof glass. 

You drifted around town, retreading haunts that really should have elicited some kind of feeling in you. They used to, y’know, when you escaped the neon of Starcourt (before it burned down) for the mothball-scented stacks of the bookstore.

Which, fittingly enough, was just called The Bookstore. Way to establish a town-wide monopoly. 

Toeing around the shelves, chipped nails clutching a Simone de Beauvoir book you’d already read but lost and didn’t exactly intend to buy, you willed yourself to give into the curse of familiarity. To woo yourself with recognizable surroundings. To pretend like your whole worldview wasn’t skewed by a Stooges t-shirt still lying under your pillow. 

The boots, you’d left in an inconspicuous position by the front door. 

The rest of it, though… 

Consciously, you’re reaching into the shelves of the philosophy section, reorganizing the whole thing because they’ve completely blended the Eastern and Western flavors (and even have a little theology thrown in there, for Chrissake). Unconsciously, you’re thinking about how you’ve been wearing that Stooges shirt in some respect since Thursday. How Friday night found it rucked up around your breasts as you squirmed under the covers, two fingers in radial motion in your panties, muffling gasps into your shoulder. Thinking about him gripping you by the shoulders, leaning into you in the half-light, his hair fanned out on his pillow as his arm sloped around you. How Saturday found you with such white-hot shame that you couldn’t even think about him grinning at you without cringing. How Sunday, today, in the bookstore, finds you wearing it under your bottle green sweater. 

You’ve lost your mind. Your entire mind. The Woman Destroyed, indeed.

So, maybe it’s better that you’re spending the weekend solo. But of course, the moment that thought occurs and you yank a copy of Fear and Trembling off the shelf, you’re looking down the barrel of something just awful.

Red-rimmed eyes, bucketing tears and sniffling, there’s goddamn Nancy Wheeler. Full on weeping, in your bookstore. What’s worse is, there’s no passing this off– there’s no pretending you never saw it, like you normally would, because she makes direct eye contact with you. 

“Ohgh–!” is the noise she makes, a kind of snotted-up exclamation, a congested gasp of surprise at your own dissociative gaze intruding on her private moment. 

God, you’re so tempted to just slam the Kierkegaard book back in place and high tail it out of the place. 

But you don’t. 

From your confessional box-esque view, you can see that weeping Wheeler is clutching a copy of Little Women.   

“Don’t worry,” you murmur, the bookstore always making you take on a library-hush tone of voice “They don’t all die of scarlet fever.”

It catches Nancy off-guard; she lets loose a little heh-heh, despite her crumpled expression. “I know,” she says, voice all uneven from her tearfulness, “I’ve read it a million times.”

“Which part got you this go around?” you ask. “The book burning? Meg and that pitiful violet silk debacle? Jo’s sham marriage?”

“Jo doesn’t end up in a sham marriage,” Nancy spikes, wiping under her eyes with a delicate knuckle. You wish to god this girl would turn ugly just once. It’s sickening. 

But you were right on this one, and you knew it. “Does so. She spends her whole life refuting the idea of getting all shacked up like Meg, only to settle down with a man, what, twice her age?”

“She loves him.”

“Does she? I mean, she loved Laurie too, in a way.”

“You think she should have ended up with Laurie.” Nancy says this to you in a way that’s almost condescending. A tear drips off the tip of her perfect nose. Fucking joke.

“Don’t be so goddamned simplistic, Wheeler,” you sigh, rounding the sagging bookcase so you can meet her in her aisle. Because you’re right, and you’d like to be face-to-face when you tell her so. “Jo shouldn’t have ended up with anybody.” 

Her brow crinkles. “That’s way too sad.”

“Really?” you scoff. You’d have expected Nancy Wheeler to cop to a narrative undertone a little better than that. “All Jo wants is freedom– to live as she pleases and write as she pleases. It’s totally diminutive to just marry her off in the end. Jo deserves to be alone. Make her life completely her own. She doesn’t need Friedrich, or Laurie. She’s enough– she’s Jo March, for Jesus’ sake.”

A seed in this triggers something in Nancy and lets out a big old yelping sob– one that makes Ivana, the take-no-shit owner of The Bookstore, lean over the counter and glower at them. Library hush, remember? You take a couple of steps forward, shielding Nancy from view. 

“Okay, what did I do? What’s going on here?” you ask– you kind of hiss, actually. 

“I’m sor– no, it’s nothing, it’s stupid!” she blubbers. “Just… God, they all get to be a lot sometimes, don’t they?”

And immediately, you know exactly what she’s talking about. Your friends. Your friends loved to shit on Nancy Wheeler, both to her face and behind her back– though it was more of the latter on this on-again phase of her and Steve’s rocky romance. Steve had shared some not-stern-enough (as far as you’re concerned) words with you guys, basically asking you to lay off Nance. Yes, she’s a nerd. Yes, she kind of thinks she’s better than you guys. Yes, she kind of can’t hang. But she’s Steve’s girl, and that’s what matters. 

To her credit, she’s made an effort with you all this time, despite all the ribbing. Despite your pointed coldness toward her. 

She doesn’t see kindness as a weakness. You do. 

It occurs to you that you’re wrong. 

“Tell me about it, sister,” you mutter, hugging de Beauvoir and Kierkegaard to your chest. 

“I’m sorry,” she sniffs, meeting your achingly dry eyes with her big, sparkling wet ones. You hate a pretty crier. She looks like a fucking woodland creature. “For how they all treated you, I’m sorry. I should have said something.”

Ah, because you were victim to some not-so-sly digs too. Nancy was probably relieved the heat was off her for once. 

“I believe that,” you say, and you do. She’s got no real good reason to lie to you, especially being that you’ve been such a pill the entire time you’ve known her. “But what did we expect, y’know. Lie down with dogs and all that shit.” 

“Right,” she nods. Peers at the books in your hands. “That’s pretty… heavy stuff.” 

“What, this?” you flash her the Kierkegaard, “Wait, shit, this isn’t Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas!” 

Nancy laughs as high and clear as a bell, and you feel kind of… good about it. Proud of yourself. The sound dies between you, a touch of awkwardness coloring the moment. 

“Listen. Nancy.” Your tone takes on a seriousness; this is advice you usually save for yourself, but… you don’t know. You’re feeling charitable. Inspired by recent events, maybe. “All of these people are bottoming out in the middle, okay? You don’t need to worry about them. Their relevance in your life is… fleeting, at best.”

“Is that how you feel?”

“Yes,” you tell her, and mean it, “Always have.”

“Didn’t always seem that way,” she says, a tilt to her head. Her bloodshot eyes are studying you. “You seemed pretty wrapped up in them, from what I saw.”

“I’m a chameleon, girl. I adapt to survive.”

“Is that how you feel about… all of them?” There’s weight behind that question. “Bottoming out in the middle?” 

She means Steve. You can tell she’s also afraid that she thinks the same thing. Sweet, devastatingly handsome, unambitious Steve. Lionhearted, driven, stratospheric Nancy. She’s going places. He’s going to his shift at Family Video.

“You’re not ready to hear my thoughts on that,” you say, reaching for the book in her hand. Out comes your fountain pen and you’re scribbling in the inside cover. “But you should call me, when you are.”

“Okay, but— you know this means I have to buy this now,” Nancy chuckles.

Amateur.

“Not necessarily,” you say, taking a step closer and slyly slipping the book into the open tote she’s carrying. You pat the wide-eyed Wheeler on the shoulder. 

“Sometimes the five finger discount chooses you.”

–

Monday morning finds Eddie Munson not just on time, but early for first period. He’s here before you are, sinking further and further into his seat as he anticipates your arrival. Of all the freakish things he’s done in his whole entire life, this behavior is the freakiest. 

But he couldn’t help it. It was a weekend of strategically watching through the blinds so he could avoid you if you left the trailer, and sometimes catching you watching him back. Though, your blinds still aren’t fixed, so it’s not like there was some vice-versa catching going on. What? Shut up. It’s been a confusing forty-eight hours. 

He’s slept so poorly that he’s actually hallucinated you in that cursed Stooges t-shirt a couple of times, pacing past your bedroom window. 

These visions have led him to have quite the cramp in his dominant hand. 

Which is not great, because he’s probably going to have to re-take this pop quiz that Kaminsky is apparently handing back today. 

And a cherry on top of this weirdo shit cake is Ronnie Ecker is sitting diagonally across from him at the top of the classroom, looking all concerned and stuff. 

He hasn’t told her anything. Not about you and your impromptu sleepover at the trailer, not about his dad’s looming and uncertain return, nothing. 

He’d gone over to her place on Saturday to work out some kinks in some Hellfire stuff, but he’d spent most of the time standing in the middle of the living room, zoning out at the TV as an episode of Murder, She Wrote rolled on. 

“Dude, what’s the fucking matter with you?”

“Wh– nothing! Angela Lansbury, man, she’s really. Uh. Magnetic.”

But as much as Ronnie had pressed, and she had pressed because she’s a presser, no juice was coming out of this little orange! No siree fuck. Eddie had done such a good and painful job of saying nothing that Ronnie had completely sold herself on the theory that the black mold in his bedroom had finally entered his brain. 

Which, I mean, eventually it will, right. 

Point is, Eddie is now shitting himself because he knows that the second you walk through that classroom door, it’s gonna be written all over his face. Maybe not in such excruciating detail as I helped her out of the rain and she put her head on my chest and she smoked a cigarette so pretty I almost died and we listened to my–our?!–favorite Tom Waits record and we almost kissed but I did technically sleep with her if you want to be super nit-picky about it, but. Ronnie’ll know something. 

And Eddie has an idea how Ronnie will react– and it matters to him how Ronnie will react. Always has, always will. And she is going to beat him to death with her Trapper Keeper, probably, screaming bloody murder about what a moron he is for letting this happen. 

But also, she might not. Because she’s always kind of admired you from a distance, too. She would kind of be all shy whenever she came out of a Biology class that you two shared. It was super weird, because Ronnie doesn’t do the crush thing. 

Is this just the deadly nightshade effect you have on people, or what?

Fuckshit. Shitfuck. As if he willed your arrival into existence, there you are. Breezing through the door in some belted velvet getup, with your shiny little shoes. They’ve got ribbons attached, winding around your ankles like you’re a ballerina or some bullshit, a terrible, sultry ballerina with daggers for eyeballs that are aiming right at Eddie. 

He diverts his interest to his textbook for the first time in his academic career. 

And he prays, prays, that you still don’t want to acknowledge him in public– that you’ll just sit down in front of him and ignore him. 

Somebody down there likes him.

You take your seat, leaning back further than you need to and flicking your hair all over his desk. It’s almost like every other Monday, but this time it feels pointed. 

“Well,” Mr Kaminsky sighs, following you in the door and looking as bedraggled as ever. “You should all be ashamed of yourselves.” 

He clicks open his briefcase, clearly imagining the silence in the classroom to be worth much more than it is. “Some of the worst quiz answers I’ve seen on record.” 

Your hair smells familiar, Eddie thinks. Like a mixture of your rich, smoky floral perfume and his shampoo. 

“That’s what you get for pulling a shittily written paragraph-answer pop quiz on a half-taught section, dumbass,” Eddie hears you mutter. 

Kaminsky calls your name. “Something you wanna share with us?”

Eddie watches your shoulders stiffen. “We’re not even halfway through the section, Mr. K. How are we supposed to answer questions on something we haven’t been taught?” 

“Hilarious, coming from you,” Kaminsky says, stabbing a finger in your direction, “because you’re one of the only aces.” 

“Just because I passed doesn’t mean I agree with the way I was taught,” you level, and Eddie can see by the way your shoulder blades shift that you’re folding your arms. “I read ahead, anyway.” 

“Great. You can continue that independent learning streak,” Kaminsky smirks, “in detention.”

“Oh, that is bullshit!” 

Christ, Eddie wants to kiss you between those tense little shoulderblades. All the way down your spine.

“Yeah? Be my guest–Lacy? They call you Lacy, right?–and take two. Now, if there’s no more objections to my teaching methods? No?”  

Thunk. A stack of papers lands on Ronnie Ecker’s desk. “As the only other person who scored a hundred and hasn’t given me any lip, go ahead and pass those back, Miss Ecker.” 

Ronnie, god love her, does as she’s told. But not before doing a little rifling through the stack and scribbling something on one of the tests. The papers sail back through the classroom in a whirlwind of white, take one, pass it along. 

You’ve got Eddie’s, and you hold it over your shoulder without so much as turning to look at him. Which is what he wanted, what he needs, sure, but what he actually wants is for you to accidentally graze his hand so he has an excuse to hold it and maybe eat it.

He snatches the test back, all nerves. Unsurprisingly, a big fat D for duuuuhhhh plants itself in red like an ugly lipstick kiss at the top of the page. Eh, at least it wasn’t an F. You take the victories where you can get ‘em these d–

All of a sudden, you’re snapping back around, grabbing Eddie’s paper back from his desk. 

“Hey–!” he hisses, almost knocked unconscious by another bloom of your perfume. “What’re you doing!” 

You, again, do not even deign to look back. You just stretch a single index finger back in his general direction– a Lacy-coded sign to fuck off, I’m busy. You hunch over the paper for the remainder of class, seemingly checking and re-checking and going at it with your precious fountain pen. 

He spends the next forty minutes in a cold sweat, mind racing, until the bell finally rings. 

Then it’s a dash, with Eddie trying to grab you and you heading straight for Kaminsky and the both of you just slamming into his desk. 

What in the everloving fuck could she be doing now? 

“This is a C grade,” you state, plain and simple. Kaminsky just flops his khaki-wearing ass into his chair. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Eddie’s test. You mis-graded him.” Wait, this is– is she helping me? “You docked him points here, here and here when the answers were perfectly fine.” 

“I think I know how to grade a test, Lacy. I’ve been doing this, for a job mind you, since before you were even a twinkle in your convict father’s eye.” Woah, Kaminsky. Straight for the jugular. 

But then Eddie notices you seize in the tiniest of flinches and decides he kind of wants to punch out this teacher. “Look, hold up, we don’t–”

“Fine. Compare it with mine.” You smack your test paper, with its circled red A, on the desk next to Eddie’s. He squints, and he recognizes it, because he’d recognize Ronnie Ecker’s handwriting anywhere– up top of your sheet, scribbled, HARD AGREE– TOTAL BULLSHIT. “They’re basically the same answers. I mean, same content, same major point– the sentence structure leaves a little to be desired, but he’s got the right idea.” 

Snared.

“Wait, really?” Eddie’s eyebrows raise. Okay, even he didn’t know that. He barely remembers even taking this test. He can’t be sure he didn’t cheat, but he’s not about to mention that now… 

You look at him, right at him, for the first time today. And shrug, with your one little shoulder, like you love to do when you’re too cool to speak. 

“And you give a shit… why?” Kaminsky says, asking the question we’re all pondering. 

“Peer tutoring,” you tell him, enunciating those words like you’ve taken elocution lessons. You could’ve. You’re, apparently, full of surprises. “I’m rehabilitating my image.”

Kaminsky is going red, red, and redder under that collar. 

“Which is why I won’t be able to make it to detention. Either of ‘em.” 

“Now, you listen to me, you little hoity-toity madam–” the older man says, shooting out of his chair to lean almost nose-to-nose with you. Eddie reaches a hand out, to either pull you back or slap this dude, but you sense it coming. Push it away. Ow. 

“Mr Kaminsky,” you say, all mock gasp, “What is Ms Kelley gonna say when I tell her that you’re getting in the way of me enriching my fellow students’ academic experience? Is that really the kind of environment we want to foster here at Hawkins High?”

You hit the teacher with a sneer of a pout, boxing him right down to size. And Kaminsky actually retreats, like physically backs off. 

“Fine. Fine.” The teacher grabs a red marker from the cup on his desk, harshly scribbling on the ‘D’ on Eddie’s test and marking up the whole paper with a massive fuck-you ‘C’. “Best of luck with that rehabilitation, Lacy. If this is the company you’re keeping, you’re gonna need it.” 

“Neato threat, real original!” you chirp, and it’s all venom in those vowels as you gather the tests back, “Knew you’d see the light, Mr K.” 

Eddie, of course, follows your hard little steps out of the room like a loyal mutt. But not before he turns and aims a whaddaya gonna do! flavored shrug at Kaminsky. “Go Tigers?”

“What?” In the hallway, he struggles to keep up with you in a sea of jostling students. “And how?” Dodging a backpack. “And–” Marry me? Tripping a freshman. “Gareth! Watch where you’re going, man!”

“Kaminsky wants to play hide the klobása with Kelley.”

“The what?”

“Czech sausage. He’s Czech– Christ. He wants to bang her.” 

“Oh.” Get in line, my man. He watches you twist your combination lock with a grace that’s frankly unnecessary. He’s fidgeting where he stands. So much for avoiding you, but he was doomed from the start in that regard. “That was– woah, back there. Like, I think you might have just single handedly raised my GPA.”

“Good. So we’re square. Indy County Tech Center, here you come.” You deposit your books, grab some more, and flick his newly-graded test at him so that he has to catch it in midair. Then, a slam! of your locker door and you’re gone, making tracks down the hallway in your little ballerina shoes. 

“Lacy– Lacy, wait up.” Eddie finally falls in step with you, following wherever you’re going. “I’m feeling some hostility here.”

“Wow, point to Munson. How perceptive,” you snit, not meeting his eyes.

“Are you mad at me?”

“How could I be mad at you? I don’t even know you.”

“Lacy, don’t be a bi–”

That makes you stop dead, stabbing a finger in the air near his chest.

“Do not fucking call me a bitch.” You mean it. God, but you mean it, and he can see it; you’re about to boil over, just about holding it together. Your big eyes flutter at him and he feels like he doesn’t have kneecaps. You suck in a jagged breath, hard expression faltering. “I feel like an idiot. If you really wanna know. I thought–...”

“You thought what?” he asks, and he kind of knows, but he also thinks that might be blowing shit way out of proportion. You look down, tugging a piece of lint from your sleeve. Eddie verbally nudges at you, because if he touches you, he might a) crumble or b) be on the receiving end of some blunt-force trauma. That binder you’re holding is huge. “Lacy. You thought what?”

“I just–... You ignored me all weekend,” you say in this little mouse voice he was not expecting to come from you. Except, he had heard it before. I’m cold.

But so what? She’s– she’s always cold.

“And? You’ve ignored me, like, my whole life.”

“I know that, but…” This is difficult for you to choke out. Bodies pass into classrooms behind you and soon enough, you two are alone in the hallway. Again. But there’s no sniping, no snarling, no cur-like behavior with your teeth exposed. “I didn’t hate being in your trailer.” Oh my god. Oh my god. “Hanging… out with you, I didn’t–” Holy shit. Eddie does not know where to look, what to feel, what to think, what to do. And he shows it as much, kind of just gap-mouthed staring at you, willing himself to say something smooth– or at least nice. But when you glance back up at him, finally, it’s a look of defeat. 

“Look, whatever. Congrats on your C. We’re even. So you can forget it.” And you move around him, ducking through the door of AP French. 

Not you can forget it, like in your dreams, Munson, but you can forget it like it was right there and you blew it, buddy.

The classroom door clicks closed and Eddie bends at the midriff, feeling like he’s been stabbed. 

–

You felt like you were trying to digest a rock until the final bell rang– though, c’mon, you didn’t know what you could have possibly expected. Eddie Munson is Eddie Munson, and you’re you. And you’d thought it yourself, it was an instance of temporary insanity. Dawn broke, the harsh light of day illuminating all the reasons why you two being anything less than contentious semi-strangers was a logical impossibility. 

So what if you wanted to kiss him. You’ve wanted to kiss a lot of people and haven't done it. It hadn’t killed you. 

However, it hadn’t gnawed at you like this either. 

Nancy Wheeler called, by the way, which means she stole that book off the back of your advice–that, or paid for it once you left the store, a flurry of charming apologies fluttering around her head like Snow White’s attendant birds. Typical. But she’d called, and you two had had an awkward forty five second conversation where she asked you if you’d mind awfully if you looked over her latest piece for the Streak. 

Something about spotlighting female business owners in Hawkins. 

“Coffee’s on me!” she’d said brightly, so super-duper keen. You all-of-a-sudden hated to put a damper on her, so you said sure. 

“But I’ll be uncompromising. I want you to know that.”

“Of course. That’s why I asked you.”

It occurred to you then that Nancy Wheeler, in her way, might actually look up to you. 

How fucking weird.

And sure enough, there she was, waiting for you in the parking lot once you gathered all your stuff from your locker. She leans against her car, wearing a corduroy skirt and a sweater that you don’t even really hate, and throws you a casual wave. The thing about Nancy and her consistent commitment to kindness toward you was she wasn’t even asinine about it– she never chased you around the playground, begging you to put on her friendship bracelet. If she did, you could actually hate her. Hate her for being cloying and desperate. You could call her all the shitty words for saccharine in the book and feel justified. 

But that is, regrettably, not the case. 

You almost say something like, Thank god your car is out of the shop, I’m sick to death of walking in these shoes, before you remember you made up that thing about Nancy’s car being in the shop. In order to skip class with Eddie Munson. 

And just as you’re crossing the lot to her wood-paneled station wagon (family car, you’re guessing?), that very same Eddie Munson skids directly into your path. Like, gasping for breath. 

“You di–huhh, you didn’t hear me calling you?” he says, straining against his lung capacity. 

“Jesus!” you jump, “No!” 

You really didn’t. You must have rage-tuned him out. 

“Oh, right. Oh, fuck, you walk so fast. Gimme a second here,” Eddie wheezes, hands on his knees. “You– you want a ride home?”

You look over his shoulder to a very perplexed looking Nancy Wheeler and find yourself fighting a smile. Motioning for her to wait a sec, you turn back to Eddie. “I’m good. I got a thing with Wheeler.” 

“Wheeler the priss?”

“And Lacy the bitch,” you remind him of that epithet he’d pinned on you like a corsage. 

He clocks it and grins. Eddie’s grin lands like a dollop of cream in your otherwise shitty coffee. You do not like this about him. At least, not right now.

“The dynamic duo.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna go solve crimes,” you roll your eyes, kind of over the whole bit already, “You’re making us late. What do you want, Munson?”

Eddie holds up a ringed finger, uno momento por favor, and digs around in his pockets. Candy and gum wrappers and an old, crushed cigarette soft pack all fall out during his cavity search until finally, he produces a crumpled piece of bright yellow paper and thrusts it toward you. 

“It’s no Harrington kegger, but you are cordially invited.”

It’s a flyer. Corroded Coffin, Live at– Oh. Oh. It’s been painstakingly hand-doodled and photocopied, the pencil marks where mistakes have been erased still visible on the print. 

This is his band.  

You, in only the way you can, study it with a quirked brow– a look of dismissal, one might even say. Your eyes slowly raise to meet Eddie’s, who looks as if he’s about to start hopping from foot to foot, there’s so much nervous energy thrumming under his leather jacket. 

Fwump. You palm the flyer into his chest. You nearly feel the physical sensation of his heart sinking. 

Then, you pluck your fountain pen from thin air, uncapping it with your teeth. 

“There’s an ‘e’ in Roane County, dumbass.” 

With the delicate nib, you scratch the letter onto the misspelled place name, using his chest as an upright writing desk. You can actually feel his breathing becoming all uneven. His grin rounds out its corners and becomes a smile, and you can tell the difference between those two expressions now, apparently. 

“Does that mean you’ll come?”

“That means I know where it is,” you say, capping your pen and leaving him clutching the flyer to his chest. 

“Friday! Ten PM!” Eddie yells after you, hand cupped around his mouth. “Roane County Quarry! With an ‘e’!” 

Nancy meets you with a look of total bemusement as you finally tug open the passenger door of your car. She watches Eddie watch you, almost tripping over his Reeboks as he walks backwards toward his beat up van. And you read every inch of the look she’s giving you. 

“He is my neighbor, Wheeler.”

“Yeah! He seems like a… super nice neighbor. Really friendly.”

“So not ready to talk about that yet,” you mutter, beating back a blush that’s threatening to color your cheeks. 

Nancy giggles– bubbly like phosphate, friendly-teasing, not pointed, not mean. Weird feeling. She turns her keys in the ignition. “But when you are, will you call me?”

–

You’d swear Corroded Coffin were about to be on the cover of Circus, the way Eddie has been… well, Eddie-ing out at rehearsal all week. He’s thrown not one, but two temper tantrums about the boys not sounding tight enough (“We need this clown car tight, you clowns!”) and has received not one, not two, but three perfectly aimed drumsticks to the head, courtesy of Ronnie Ecker. 

The third one was just target practice, but he earned the other two. 

“What has crawled up your ass, dude?” Jeff, a sophomore that can admittedly out play every single one of them in bass and every other instrument, demands. 

“I bet I know what crawled up his ass,” Ronnie glowers from behind her snares, “Or should I say who.”

Now, Ronnie hadn’t witnessed Eddie giving you that flyer, or your copyediting work on it, but she had that preternatural thing where she could feel it when Eddie was out and about doing some dumb stupid dumbass bullshit. Like those dogs that can detect earthquakes. She’s full time on the beat detecting earthquakes. 

“Cool it, Jessica Fletcher.” Maybe Angela Lansbury really did do a number on him. “I quite simply want us to sound good, for once. Not Hideout good– good-good. The Quarry is a big deal! Like, a literal big cavernous deal. You want a dry run for the Garden? This is our shot, maestros.” 

“Are you seriously comparing Roane County Quarry to Madison Square Garden?” Cyrus, their second guitarist and first-rate vocalist, says with narrowed eyes. “Something did crawl up your ass.”

“And die,” Ronnie agrees.

“And now the death stench is in your brain,” Cyrus adds.

“And the stench has turned toxic.”

“And the toxicity is killing off your brain cells one by one by one.”

“And we’re gonna get on stage at the Quarry, and your head is gonna explode–”

“Just like Scanners,” Cyrus and Ronnie finish in such an eerie unison that it actually raises goosebumps on Eddie’s arms. 

“Fuck, are they serious?” sweet, gentle, naive Jeff asks, brown eyes flared in alarm. Something about being a child prodigy in one arena makes you so desperately gullible in everything else.

“No!” Eddie barks. “We just– we’ve gotta be good.” 

Because what would Lacy say about what Robert Christgau would say about us?

Something cutting like a scythe, brilliant like a diamond. 

But for your part, you don’t know much about metal. 

I mean, you’ve got a vague familiarity with the genre– you’ve got a subscription to Rolling Stone and Creem (RIP), for god’s sake. The roots were far more accessible to you as a whole; ‘Smoke on the Water’ by Deep Purple has the kind of intro you can paint your nails to, for example, and ‘Immigrant Song’ by Led Zeppelin feels like hotwiring Billy Hargrove’s car and driving it over a cliff (in a good way).

The absolute thrash of it all, though? Your one musical blindspot. And you weren’t quite sure how keen you were to lift the veil on it 

Regardless, you decided you were going. You were going to show up at Roane County Quarry, ‘e’ included, and dip your toe into the kind of lawfully insouciant scene you’d always fantasized about, ever since you read your first Kerouac.

Granted, the metalhead-and-allied contingent of Hawkins weren’t exactly the Beat poetry set, but you doubted they’d be boring. You imagined a lot of leather incorporated into the outfits. At least one of them would have a switchblade. Maybe there’d be a Hells Angel there. 

The only way to know is to go. 

Something Eddie possibly failed to consider, being that he has molten lava in place of a bloodstream, is that it is positively arctic on this fateful Friday night. So sub-polar is the goddamned weather that you have to dig out your warmest coat. 

Your warmest coat isn’t exactly the desired attire for a thrash rock show happening in a quarry. 

“What the hell is she wearing?” come the murmurs as you slip your way through the modest (but gathering?) crowd, all finding heat around fires set in trashcans and mouthfuls sunk from bottles in brown paper bags. Girls with hair so gelled and spiked and backcombed that it looks sharp and flammable give you dirty looks, and the looks their boyfriends give you are even dirtier– and not even in that way! Misogyny in rock and roll, alive and fucking well!

You spot Eddie Munson in the near distance and bend down, grab a pebble, and pelt it at his denim-and-leather clad back. He spins, alarmed, on alert, and does a bad job of dimming how he lights up like a goddamn Christmas tree when he sees who’s launching projectiles at him. You. He’s all lit up, looking at you. 

You glance away. Like, yes. The miracle has arrived. Calm down.

Then his face falls a teensy bit.

“What–” 

“If you ask me what I’m wearing, I’m going to scream,” you say, crossing your fuzzy arms over your fuzzy chest. “And we’re in a quarry. Sound carries.” 

Eddie reaches out, hand all gnarled like Dracula or something, and pets you on the arm of your coat. 

“Guys, get over here.”

“No–” you start, but all of a sudden, all four members of Corroded Coffin are taking turns stroking the arm of your fur coat. “Stop that. It bites.” 

“Eddie, can you confirm or deny that it bites?” Ronnie Ecker says in a tone you’ve never heard Ronnie Ecker use before– knowing, biting, a little nasty. You’re not sure whether or not to be offended by that, but… you like this look on her. 

Or maybe you just like when anyone gives Eddie Munson shit. 

“He’s never had the privilege,” you say and shoot Ronnie a sly look. Just to test the waters. She blushes. Point to Lacy.

“Alright, let me go ahead and nip this in the bud before it begins,” Eddie cuts in, manually removing Ronnie’s petting hand from your upper arm. He flourishes a hand out in front of you, a half-bow, a consummate dork. “We’re almost on. May I escort you to your seat, m’lady?”

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, committed to the contrarian bit for the time being, but let him lead you all the same. “They reserve seating in this ditch?”

“Not for everybody!”

“Why am I getting special treatment?” You don’t know what answer you’re expecting to that question. 

“Lacy,” Eddie levels, stopping dead at his van and looking you dead in your face, “you wore a mink coat to a metal show. You’re not a VIP, you’re a liability.” 

“What, dead animals aren’t hardcore enough for you people anymore?” you drawl as he props open the passenger door of the van. You take his hand, as you’ve taken his hand a handful of times now, in a way where it’s almost ordinary. But then, halfway in and halfway out of the van, you pause. 

“Oh, no. This just won’t do.”

“Whaddaya mean?” Eddie mumbles. 

“Well, I’m not gonna be able to see shit from here.” 

“Where do you–”

“I’m getting on the roof, asshole.” 

You slam the door on him, rolling down the passenger window. All hands and swinging limbs, careful not to snag your tights on the peeling paintwork, you clamber out the window and up onto the roof of his van. Settling your ass down, crossing your legs over his windshield, you flash him one of those winning smiles. He smiles back.

There’s a buzzing in your stomach. It’s not from the flask of whiskey you’ve been sipping from, but you’re willing to lie. 

“Cheerleader,” he teases. 

“Break a leg, Munson,” you say, cheersing that aforementioned flask to him. “Snap it clean off for me.” 

There’s not a whole lot of pre-show faffing about (you didn’t time your entrance to hang around) before Corroded Coffin takes the stage. And god, the sound is horrendous. You can barely hear the banter up top (winning, you’re sure) from the band’s frontman– which, to your shock and awe, is not Eddie. It’s a fellow senior named Cyrus Painter (great name, by the way), who you vaguely recognize from Math and from the Hellfire table you crashed that one time. He doesn’t seem to hold much of a stage presence beyond glowering and muttering darkly into a microphone that’s barely picking up his voice, but all importance of that seems to go right out the window as soon as they hit the opening chords of their first song. You think it might be called ‘Whiplash’. 

And it’s good. 

It’s almost perverse, how technically accomplished it is– like, high school bands should not be this technically accomplished, but then you twig that Ronnie is in band. Like, the marching band. And so is that other kid on the bass, the one who they featured in the Streak for winning a bunch of teen virtuoso awards. Cyrus carries the song with the beautiful grace of a wrecking ball, but–and you might be biased–the one that’s putting the texture on this whole operation is the lead guitarist. 

Eddie’s not in band. Eddie’s not technically perfect. But it’s Eddie that’s throwing shots of gasoline down the hatch of this fire-breathing dragon. This would be way too neat of an outfit if it wasn’t for him, fingers flying so fast over his fretboard that he barely touches it, scuzzing up the surrounds of the thrash metal with an almost bluesy warmth. 

Warmth. Of course it’s warmth. Of course it’s searing fingers and sweat you can almost see teeming from underneath his bandana, even in the sub-zero temperatures. It’s Eddie, throwing his whole self into this. 

A shot of pure admiration followed by a twinge of envy. 

You wonder how he does that. 

The song concludes, barely leaving time for whoops and applause before they launch into another. They’re laser-focused, locked in like Chrissy Cunningham in that goddamn basket toss, and you kind of get it. It’s not for you, but you kind of get it. This is sword swinging fucking music, slay the monster fucking music. 

Dungeons and Dragons fucking music. 

It’s all build, all fantasy, all story, all rage and rush and ravenousness. And before you know it, it’s all over, and you’re applauding– applauding more reservedly than you feel you want to. 

“I’m comin’ up there!” There is Eddie, who’s apparently made a beeline from the milkcrate stage to his van, under the pretense of loading equipment. Which he’s managed to do in what seems like thirty seconds flat. 

A gas lamp of eagerness and pure energy, he’s blazing bright and clumsily hoisting his way onto the roof to sit with you– he doesn’t have your muscular strength, so he has to kind of swing a leg and roll his way up there, almost knocking you over. 

“Woah!” you giggle as he collides with you, reaching for your flask with a gimme that. He hoists himself up next to you, tugging off his bandana and running a hand through the flattened waves to give them a little oomph again. But Eddie right now, he’s all oomph. 

“So,” he nudges you, eyes gleaming, “Don’t leave me in suspense, Lester Bangs. Whatdja think?”

You screw your lips up, sigh hard through your nose. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Munson…” 

“Hmm?”

“...but it didn’t suck.”

“Really?” Eddie’s eyes gleam, like you just scored him that ‘C’ grade all over again. 

“Re–ally,” you nod, pulling the flask from him, “I mean, Ronnie? She’s fucking John Bonham.”

“I keep telling her that.”

“And that kid on the bass–?”

“Jeff.”

“Jeeeeff. Him and Cyrus, right? Dead set on a Pulitzer.” 

“I’ll take your word for it.”

You let the trepidation hang between you for a beat or two, letting Eddie’s eyes search your face with a big fat uuummm? Hello? as you take an achingly long pull of that whiskey. 

“Am I forgetting somebody?” you murmur. 

“Oh, fuck you!” he barks through a laugh. You’re both shoulder to shoulder, his breath blowing warmth onto your cheek because of how far his voice projects. “C’mon, Lacy. I can take it.” 

“Can you?”

“Don’t tease me, ice princess.”

“‘Don’t freeze me’, you mean.”

“Dammit.” 

“Gotta be quick on that trigger.” 

“I know.”

“Like you are on that fretboard,” you finally hand it to him. “I mean, shit, Munson.” 

“Really?” he says again; he is beaming, glowing from the inside out. He’s radioactive, this kid. You cannot, cannot, cannot stop looking at him. “Really shit, Munson?”

“Really shit Munson!” you exclaim, a little louder than intended–blame the whiskey. “Where’d you learn to play like that?”

“Who, me?” Eddie shrugs, stretching his arms over his head. “I’m a self-made man, baby.” You think, for a second that he might try and pull that corny movie theater move where the boy stretches only to drape his arm over the girl’s shoulder– and you’re half-relieved, half-disappointed when he doesn’t. 

“Incredible,” you say, when you could’ve said bullshit.

That makes him… almost shy. He glances away from you for the first time since he’s sat up here. “Yeah, well. Gotta while away the hours somehow.” 

“Can I ask you something?” It flies out of your mouth before you have a chance to stop it. 

“If it’s about what I was doing out at that crossroads with my guitar, then no.” 

“Can we be friends?” It’s nearly medical, the way you ask him. Like you’re verifying symptoms. And he’s taken aback– maybe it’s how straightforward you are about it, or maybe it’s the weird, tender lilt to your tone. Eddie blinks.

“... do you mean right here right now friends or actually acknowledge each other in the hallway friends.”

“I mean full time at your lunch table friends,” you say. Suddenly, your throat is very dry. “You can even carry my books if you want to.”

Eddie’s eyes narrow, and his voice seems to narrow with them. “I don’t know. Sitting with us sorta requires that you join Hellfire…”

“Friends need boundaries, Eddie.” 

“Price of admission, babydoll.” The way he rolls his head over his shoulder is… shut up.

You pause, honestly kind of mulling it over. 

Eddie hitches himself a little upright, a lightning flash of concern dashing across his face. “I”m fucking with you. Yes, we can be friends…” he breathes out a laugh, washing you over with that studying look again, ”What a weird way to ask.”

“But weird good, no?” you say, and you say it all bright and searching– like you’re looking for his approval. 

Eddie, with his hand braced against the roof of the van, directly behind your back, leans in so that his chin is resting on your mink-covered shoulder. He looks up at you, revved up on post-show adrenaline and a little of your whiskey. It is now, you realize, a little hard to breathe. Eddie Munson smells like cigarettes and soap and garbage can fire and sweat and rock and roll.

“Weird like you’re a weirdo, Lacy,” he hums, “And I aaalways knew it.” 

Bangbangbang! The sound of Ronnie Ecker’s balled up fist on the side of the van makes you both nearly jump out of your skin, two skeletons too close for comfort. 

“Guys, I hate to break up–whatever the hell, but I’ve still got a curfew!” she yells. “And my Granny’s got a gun!” 

You and Eddie, you and your friend Eddie, look at each other and burst into nose-first laughter, snorting away. Giddy, giggly, stupid. And the funniest part is, you really think you’ve killed it. 

By saying let’s be buddies!, you think you’ve put a stake right into the pitter-pattering heart of the nebulous other feelings you find yourself feeling when you look in Eddie’s eyes, at his lashes, at his hands, at his neck. 

For a clever girl, you are so, so stupid.

author's notes: here we here we here we fucking go! i'll admit i'm a little delirious writing this because it's REDACTED past REDACTED but i needed to get this up and outta me. and also because y'all deserve it, being so supportive and nice to me AGAIN. i can't get over youse. dyou wanna get married - bildoolpoolp, a real goddess from dnd! her areas of control are darkness, insanity and revenge to which i say: lacy that u? - virginia woolf doll came to me in a dream and then i found this article about a virginia woolf doll. all i want for christmas? virginia woolf doll. stones in pockets not included - rita hayworth, always decent - got me feeling like miss tayla the way i'm burying meaning in eddie's dialogue! - the oracle of delphi, one of our baddest bitches on record - calling lacy's mom a blanche dubois type was admittedly shady of me but... if the shoe fits. - i'm zeroing in on officer callahan based almost solely on how much joy i get from watching him in search party, a show about terrible awful millennials that takes a turn you'd never see coming! THIS IS A FORMAL REQUEST FOR YOU TO WATCH SEARCH PARTY - in case you wanted a visual for the stooges t-shirt eddie gave lacy - LITTLE WOMEN ALIGNMENTS AS I SEE THEM: nancy is a stone cold jo march with a touch of beth around the ears, lacy is amy sun amy moon jo rising, EDDIE IS AN AMY, steve is a meg sun amy moon - also jo march is a lesbian and if you really want to talk about it, trans. i'm not citing a source for this i don't need to - jessica fletcher you beautiful bitch - y'all remember ms kelley, the hot guidance counsellor? right???? - nancy the priss and lacy the bitch-- make us solve crimes! - the missing 'e' in the corroded coffin flyer is a real fucking thing from that hawkins memories box you can buy. i love that boy and he can't spell and i want it framed. - circus, a rock magazine that was neck and neck in notoriety with rolling stone. here's ozzy on the cover in a tutu! - scanners is a perfect film from 1981 by my baby daddy david cronenberg! (cw for head explosion in the trailer) - listened to smoke on the water or immigrant song lately? no? well, we were all raised by school of rock so fix that - alright so the corroded coffin lineup of it all. i've long held the belief that eddie is in fact not the vocalist but is, on charisma alone, the de facto frontman (think russell hammond in almost famous). cyrus is named for the mountain goats song the best ever death metal band in denton which makes me cry if i think about the freaks in corroded coffin being the best ever death metal band out of hawkins! when you punish a person for dreaming his dream, don't expect him to thank or forgive you! they will both outpace and outlive you! - lester bangs! i did another almost famous/real life reference :( which is also a deep cut lacy reference that may or may not be explained - john bonham died! thaaaaaat's all for this round, folks. thanks again for sticking with me, likes and reblogs and comments are always so appreciated and who knows if i'll write even more next time! COZ I SURE FUCKING DON'T!!!! okay love u hellcats x

[what-we-do-in-santa-carla]

A Lost Boys Incorrect Quotes Post

David: Listen up fives, a ten is speaking.

David: Star, can we talk, one ten to another?

Star: I'm an eleven, but continue.

-

Michael: Now that I'm officially a part of the coven, I get to go on my first hunt! This day is bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S!

Marko, swallowing a whole bottle of Advil: I'm just preparing.

-

Star: One day, that man's gonna run out of ways to shock people.

David walks in, Laddie riding his shoulders.

Star: But not today.

-

Alan: Haven't they discovered a cure for your kind yet?

Marko: You got a problem with vampires?

Alan: I meant blondes.

-

David, brooding on the roof: Darkness is the hearts true nature.

Max, standing on the ground, hands on his hips: Whatever you're talking about, I don't care

-

Star: You kidnapped a child? David, that's illegal!

David: But Star, what's more illegal, briefly inconveniencing this boy's guardians, or destroying our delicate family balance?

Star: KIDNAPPING A CHILD.

Marko: Star, listen, whatever I may think of you right now, you're a part of our family-

Star: A family who kidnaps children?

Marko: A family that works together.

Star: To kidnap children?

Dwayne, holding up his arm, where Laddie is biting him: Star, we've all agreed this thing is not a child.

-

Sam: Sometimes, when I need to clear my head, I just get into grandpa's car and floor it around town.

Sam: Speed limit's 35 miles per hour, but sometimes I'll go 36 or 37. I don't care.

-

Star: What are you worried about?

Sam: I'm worried about enclosed spaces and death and pain and spiders and death and words with R and... Did you want the whole list or just the general overview?

-

Star: Man, your boyfriend's really hot.

David: Shut up, Star

Star: Remember when I fucked him in THIS HOTEL?

David: Shut UP Star!

-

Marko, lying on the floor, literally dying: But if they ever ask about me, tell them I was more than just a great set of abs.

Marko: I was also an incredible head of hair.

-

Marko: I like my conversations like I like my clothes. Short and easy to get out of.

-

David: You are so jealous of me. I'm everything you've ever wanted to be.

Star: A cunt?

David: Exactly.

-

Dwayne, looking at Michael: Well I don't like men with a lot of muscle-

David: WELL I DIDN'T TURN HIM FOR YOU-

[gojozaiacc]

TEMPTATION, buggy the clown.

la!!buggy the clown x fem!!marine!!reader summary: the daughter of Axe-Hand Morgan decided to go rogue finally, pairing up with the straw hat crew, only for them to get captured instantly by a wanted pirate captain. tw!! swearing, violence, weapon violence. notes: this is sort of a sneak peak to a full on book I'm writing on Buggy... ;)

A groan fell past y/n's lips as she was shaken awake by her captain in the straw hat. She was starting to wonder if this had been the right choice.

Then again she would rather stab herself in the eye than go back to her brute of a father. She squinted at the boy who grinned when seeing her starting to gain consciousness.

"Your awake!!"he exclaimed which had her groaning, pinching the bridge of her nose. She nodded and stood up, a few inches shorter than the box they were being held in.

"We need a plan."Nami tried to reason with Zoro who was banging against the walls angrily. That was when y/n noticed that her sword was gone from around her waist as well as her bag of throwing stars.

"I don't need a plan. I just need to beat the hell out of every marine I see."Zoro snapped. y/n shook her head. --"This isn't the Marines. My dad wouldn't lock us in a box."She informed them, her head still reeling from the gas she had inhaled earlier before losing consciousness.

Luffy nodded in response. --"Before I got knocked out I saw a Jolly Rogger."He informed the group, pausing for dramatic effect. --"We've been captured by pirates."He finished, almost excited by the prospect.

Nami seemed to freeze beside y/n earning herself a concerned look by the blonde. --"That's much better news..."She mumbled out sarcastically.

y/n only shook her head. --"I mean at least pirates don't have training like marines do."She tried to cheer the orange-haired girl up. Zoro nodded.

"They're right. Pirates are easier to kill."Zoro grumbled. y/n nodded in response and though she didn't have her usual weapons she was ready to fight with her fists.

"Shanks used to say not every situation can solved with violence," Luffy spoke in a wise tone. Zoro didn't seem to share the wise attitude as he squinted at his captain, --"Who the hell is Shanks?"He asked the boy who only grinned in response.

"we don't need to fight." he simply responded, still grinning. --"I can talk to them. Pirate to pirate." y/n couldn't help but smile at his optimism.

Though he was sometimes a little too optimistic for her liking, she still couldn't help but feel affection for the boy in the straw hat. Nami squinted at the boy.

"that won't work."She broke it to him harshly. y/n folded her arms but kept quiet. Luffy's facial expression doesn't change as he turned his gaze towards her. --"Why not?"

Nami gave him an obvious look. --"To start, you're not a pirate."She told him. y/n bit her tongue to disagree with her, figuring it not best to argue in their situation. --"Yes I am."Luffy responded.

Nami shook her head. --"No you're just some stretchy guy in a tattered hat.", Luffy didn't seem to be taking anything that Nami was saying to him to heart. --"I'm a different kind of pirate."He only responded.

A distant look appeared on Nami's face as she stared almost hatefully at Luffy. --"Pirates are pirates. There's only one kind."she spat. y/n eyed her, sympathy in her gaze despite knowing nothing about Nami's past. The tangerine-haired woman had obviously had a bad experience with pirates.

The roof of the box suddenly lifted and y/n tilted her head back, squinting at the bright lights beaming down on her. Seconds later one of the walls lifted allowing the group to step out from their temporary cage.

Folding her arms behind her back, she glanced around as numerous different performances happened around them. They were in a circus tent by the looks of things.

She eyed the performers with a sort of fascination. Growing up the daughter of Axe-Hand Morgan didn't allow her the opportunity to get out much so this level of excitement around her was a completely foreign feeling.

Her eyes drifted to where the sounds of clapping was from. There sat a crowd of people who appeared to be enjoying themselves but if you looked closer you could see fear in their eyes. y/n swallowed uneasily as the crowd laughed fakely, obviously fearful for their lives.

Luffy, who hadn't spotted the crowd yet, started to clap for the performers which had Nami whacking his hands.

y/n started glancing around the room, looking for any ways to escape or to attack. She couldn't find many and it didn't help much that they were completely surrounded.

"no, no, no, no..."A voice suddenly sounded through all of the excitement and the group all turned their attention to the source. Out walked the figure of a man. --"Stop!! it's all wrong."He called out, and the crowd instantly went silent which led y/n to believe this was the man in charge.

"The spotlight was late. You completely missed my entrance," he informed from the shadows, staring up at the spotlight man. y/n watched the dark figure gesture to the spotlight and then to himself.

And then the spotlight moved to land on him and y/n's heart stopped.

She knew him. Buggy the clown. He was one of the pirates who had been eluding her father for years. He was worth 15,000,000 berries. He was also not exactly her father's biggest fan for obvious reasons.

Now she knew what to expect. Not that, that was a good thing. Buggy walked closer to one of his crewmates. --"And where, oh where..."He trailed off as he got closer to a man who wore a funny-looking costume, --"Was the dancing...lion?", the man flinched back, shaking with fear.

y/n could feel a few of Buggy's crew members eyeing her and she shrank back a little under their gazes. She was aware that she had a bit of a reputation to her name among pirates so she had expected to encounter some trouble when she decided to go with Luffy, she just hadn't expected it to happen so soon.

"Hey, I know you!!"Luffy suddenly called out and y/n snapped her head to him, begging him with her eyes to shut up. He nodded to y/n who stared bug-eyed at him. --"We saw you're wanted poster in Shells Town."He informed the clown.

Luffy kept a grin on his face, clearly impressed with Buggy's whole performance. --"You're the clown guy!!"He said more to himself as he tried to remember Buggy's actual name. --"Uhh, Binky, right?"He spoke, clicking his fingers as though he had gotten his name right.

y/n sighed into her palm, --"Buggy."She and the clown pirate corrected the young pirate at the same time. Buggy dropped down from where he stood, glancing towards y/n for a second before looking back to Luffy.

"Buggy...the flashy fool." he spoke as he got closer and closer to the group only adding to y/n's unease. --"Buggy the...genius jester."he finished, gesturing to himself with a flare of cockiness to him.

y/n almost rolled her eyes at the confidence.

Luffy looked even more impressed now, widening his eyes along with Buggy's words. --"Wow.."He drew out with no sarcasm. --"You have a lot of names." he finished with a nod.

He glanced around at Buggy's crew. --"I bet everyone in the East Blue knows who you are." y/n cringed at his poor choice of words, scrunching her nose up as the crowd gasps in shock.

Though she had never met the clown in person, y/n was fully aware that he was incredibly sensitive about his nose due to it's unusual size.

Buggy continued to smile but it wavered a little between anger and annoyance. --"What did you just say?"He asked, his voice now having a dry tone to it.

y/n tried to shake Luffy's arm in a way that would tell him to not respond to the pirate's question. However, Luffy only glanced down at her, confused. --"Just that everybody knows who you are."He said again and she scrunched her face up.

Something switches in Buggy instantly as he runs at Luffy, grabbing the boy by his face out of anger, and squishing his cheeks together. --"NOSE?!"He exclaims in a shout.

A hand suddenly gripped y/n by her shoulder and her eyes widened as she was yanked backwards, something instantly being pressed to her neck.

She hissed a little as the sharp objects digs into her skin, another sharp object being pressed into her back just to be sure she didn't try something to retaliate. --"Are you making fun of my nose?"Buggy asked the boy.

Luffy denied the accusation, curious about the clone's nose. --"But now that you mention it...is that thing for real?"He asked, lifting a hand to poke the clown's nose. Buggy slapped the hand away with an irritated look on his face.

"They have a marine with them, captain." a voice spoke directly behind y/n leading her to believe they were the one with the sword pressed to her neck.

Buggy glanced towards her, his eyes lighting up as he clicks his gloved fingers together. --"Axe-hand's daughter!!"He exclaims with a wide grin. She pursed her lips together, her stomach dropping at the knowledge that Buggy knew who she was.

He flapped his hands almost excitedly to his crew member, moving away from Luffy. --"Bring her here."He instructed the pirate holding y/n hostage with his swords.

Deciding it was best to not try and fight the guy who had a sword pressed against her neck and another one against her neck, she didn't put up a fight as she is walked over to the pirate captain.

Buggy gestured for his crew member to release her and he did without hesitation. Buggy walked to her side and swung an arm around the back of her shoulders mockingly so her side was pressed into his.

"I gotta say, toots.."He trailed off, lifting one of his gloved hands to pat her cheek teasingly. --"Big fan of your work." he told her with a grin. His hand grazed her arm as he glanced down at her, leveling his face with hers as he grinned.

"I mean, you see my crew?"He asked her in a hushed voice, pointing a finger to some of his crew members. She followed his pointed finger, glancing to a few of the angry faces that stared back at her.

"did you know that you've murdered a few of their friends?"Buggy chuckled into her ear like the fact was funny, his breath fanning the side of her face. She went pale as Buggy patted her arm.

"Small world, right?"He laughs as he whispers in her ear. She swallowed but didn't move away from his grip. She didn't have any weapons so what would be the point?

She swallows and turns her head to look at him. Her gaze met his coldly. He challenged her gaze with a wide grin on his face.

She wasn't used to that. Every pirate she had ever stared down gave in easily. She had that dark look to her eyes, the look of inescapable doom. But not Buggy. He grinned in her face and that irritated her to another level.

Why isn't he scared of her like the others?

With one last grin, her slapped a hand to her shoulder and glanced to one of his crewmembers.

"You."He pointed to him and the associate flinches at the attention, clearly terrified of his captain. --"Take this one back to my cabin."he informs him.

y/n's eyes widen in fraction, surprise appearing on her face as the pirate walks over to grab ahold of her. --"Put her in the thing!!"Buggy called out as she is ripped from his grip and tugged away away.

She could hear Luffy start to speak up, asking what they were doing with her but his voice is soon drowned out as she was now alone with the pirate. He was gripping her arm tight enough she was sure there would be a big bruise on her forearm.

Soon enough, he pushed open a door and shoves her harshly inside. She stumbles inside, staggering to her knees as she collapses into the side of what she assumed was Buggy's desk.

She groans and lifts a hand to clutch her side as the pirate walks towards her, lifting his foot to kick her in the stomach. She grunted and staggered back as he clutched her by her hair.

"Don't recognise me?"He spat at her, levelling his face with hers. She groaned in distaste as he snapped her head back so she was looking at him.

"Not exactly."She mumbled. A look of anger passed the man's face as he swung his fist at her face. Her head bounced back as she groaned, blood trickling down her nostril.

The pirate got close to her face. --"If Captain Buggy didn't need you I would kill you."he hisses, his disgusting breath fanning her face. She crinkled her nose and glared at him.

His face got even closer to hers. --"You murdered my best friend."He spoke through clenched teeth and she raised an eyebrow. --"You're going to have to be more specific than that."She spoke in a mocking tone which only earned her another punch to the face.

With a grunt, she pulled herself up to lean against Buggy's desk, spitting out some blood. Her jaw is suddenly roughly grabbed again by the crook pirate.

"You cut him down where he stood, forced him to swallow broken glass."He hissed. Her eyes go distant for a moment as her eyebrows raised, the memory coming back.

"The teenager..."She trailed off. She could remember this, it had happened when she was 14 and training underneath her father.

Axe-Hand had forced his daughter to go after one of the pirates that had been staying at a local tavern. Her original plan was to just threaten him and arrest him but that wasn't good enough to her father.

He needed to know that she was loyal to the marines.

And so, he forced her to attack, using his influence over her. She was desperate to please her father, desperate for any sort of attention from him considering he had never given her or her brother any sort of attention.

And so she did as she was told. It disturbed her how naturally she fell into the role, forcing the boy who was maybe only 2 years older than her to do things such as swallow broken glass and cut out his own tongue because, in her father's words, pirates don't deserve the privilege to speak.

Her eyes flickered back to the man in front of her, recognition appearing in her eyes. She did remember him. The boy she had killed was a young upstarter, looking to become a pirate captain, the man had been his first mate. She could vaguely remember his name being mentioned to her when they first went to the tavern to arrest them.

Thorpe Cliffton.

Thorpe still had a grip on her face, tears sprouting his eyes as memories seemed to flush in. y/n felt bad, she really did, but she didn't take too kindly to the blood pooling in her mouth.

"He was only 16."Thorpe snapped at her, almost happy that y/n seemed to remember. He wanted her to go through that mental torture.

An almost dead look appears in y/n's face as she stared. --"Yeah? well, he was a stupid 16-year-old."She snapped at him. --"You both knew fine well that Shells Town was swarming with Marines at that time, if it hadn't been me it would have been someone else."She hissed.

Thorphe's eye twitched a little as he shoved her back to the ground and stalked off to the corner of the room. y/n took the opportunity to spit out some of the blood that had been pooling in her mouth.

The freak returned with a chain. With little regard for how this might hurt, he reached down and snatched her by her wrists. She didn't fight him as he dragged her over to a hook hanging down in the centre of the room.

She would have fought him had she had her sword.

He wrapped some of the long chain around the hook tightly before chaining her wrists together so she chained to the hook. With a murderous look at her, he walked over to the door and moved a piece of fabric to lift two buttons.

He pressed the top button and the hook started to lift, lifting her wrists with it. Soon enough she was hanging by her wrists, having to stand on her toes so she could still touch the ground.

The discomfort was begging to appear on her features but she didn't show any reaction to Thorpe. She didn't want to look weak. He stalked over to her and leaned in threateningly.

"The second Captain Buggy gives the word. You're dead."he informs her.

She didn't respond, watching him leave the room, locking the door behind him.

With him gone, she let the discomfort appear on her face as she hissed through her teeth. She was starting to feel the effects of some of the punches he had thrown at her.

Tilting her head back, she rattled her chained hands in an attempt to break free but it was no use. He had chained her up pretty well. She had no option but to just wait and hope that Luffy manages to find some way to get out of this creepy clown's tent.

With a sigh, she glanced around the captain's cabin. Buggy's cabin was exactly what you'd expect from someone like him. It was messy, papers were scattered across his desk, and drawers were ajar.

She also took notice of a dart board on his door, a cutout picture of her dad from a newspaper was in the centre with a colourful dagger stabbed through it.

That almost made her chuckle.

She took notice that he had his own wanted poster on the wall and almost scoffed at the obvious cockiness. Other than the wanted poster, the walls were covered in newspaper cutouts of his circus act- a newspaper article that she had no doubt the journalist was forced to write.

There were a few circus tricks scattered around the floor but nothing that she could pick up with her feet and help her escape. Everything was just messy in the cabbin.

Rolling her neck impatiently, she glanced to the side just as the lock in the door was turned and in walks the clown himself. He grins at the sight of her.

"I see you're past has already come back to bite you in the ass."He snickers, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him as he glanced in amusement at her bloodied nose.

She only eyed him, the discomfort instantly going from her face when she saw him. She was now about to look weak in front of this dumb fucking clown.

He reaches into the inside of his coat, pulling out a switchblade. Though he didn't appear to be trying to act threatening towards her.

"Alright, sweets."he started out, taking a few steps towards her. --"Huge fan, by the way. The way you forced that one loser pirate to slice off his own eyelids?"He kissed the tips of his gloved fingers mockingly, making a 'mwah' noise.

She remembered that one. When she was 17, a pirate tried to force himself onto her in the streets at night. So she went on the attack and forced him to slice off his own eyelids as punishment.

She didn't feel bad about that one.

Buggy grinned and pointed a finger at her. --"you're a real damaged soul."He chuckled, he eyes her up and down. --"And no longer working for daddy dearest?"He questioned, raising an eyebrow.

She didn't respond but gave him a look that said 'what do you think you stupid clown?'. He reached to the side into a fruit bowl sitting on a table, grabbing an apple, he tossed it up and down in his hand.

"And y'know, I collect damaged souls."He told her as he started to carve off some of the apple with his switchblade. --"I collect the deranged, the freaks of nature."He continued, raising his eyebrows as his blue eyes stare at hers. --"Make them part of my act."He hums.

"And you.."He points a finger to her with a giddy chuckle, throwing some of the carved apple between his red lips. --"belong in my act."He tells her, taking a step closer so his face was a mere two feet away from hers.

"How about I unchain you and you ditch these nobodies and join my crew, huh?"He questioned, lifting a hand to grip her chin. His grip was nowhere near as tight as Thorpe's had been, it was soft as he tried to sway her.

She continued to stare at him, her gaze sharp and unwavering. --"How about you unchain me and I'll cut your nose down to your liking?"She questioned innocently, remembering how he flipped off the handle earlier when Luffy brought up his nose.

An amused and forced grin appears on Buggy's face. He clicks his tongue and waggles his finger, stalking toward her so she had to look up at him. His hand still clutching her chin.

"Since I'm such a big fan of yours, I'm gonna take that response as a maybe."He grinned. She didn't understand this guy. Why hadn't the nose mention pissed him off?

He dropped her chin and took a step back to observe her. --"Where's my map?"He asked, folding his arms. She raised an eyebrow.

"Explain to me why i would tell you."She questioned. --"Because if you don't tell me I'll make sure the stretchy kid does."He simply replies, watching her face harden a little protectively.

"I don't know where it is."She told. It technically wasn't a lie, she hadn't been awake when Luffy had informed the group that he had swallowed the map. She was as clueless as Buggy was.

Buggy eyed her, irritation flashing in his blue eyes when not seeing any tells that she was lying. He popped another piece of the apple into his mouth, the muscles in his jaw flexing in annoyance.

They are silent for a moment, challenging the other's gaze. He then suddenly pointed at her with a grin. --"y'know we've actually met before."He announces, walking closer to her with that stupid fucking grin on his face.

A look appeared on y/n's face as she raised an eyebrow. --"I think I would remember you."She told him dryly and he shook his head. --"When we were both young pups..."He trailed off with a small grin, her continued to eat his apple.

"We met at the execution of good ol' Gold Rogers."He said, walking closer to her. --"You were 10."He spoke almost as though he was trying to remind himself. He started to wave the switchblade as he rambled.

"You were avoiding your dad in the crowd and wound up standing with me. Called my nose 'cool'."He grinned with his words, his gaze a little distant as he recalled the day.

And as he reminded her, she nodded, and the memory returned. Sure the interaction was 20 years ago but you'd think she would remember a kid with a round red nose and blue hair.

"huh..."She mumbled to herself, her wrists starting to ache. Buggy rested a hand on his chest, his crazed grin still spread across his lips. --"That comment stayed with me for a long time, blondie."

She almost snickered in response, raising a lazy eyebrow. --"Good to know I made such an impact."She mumbled sarcastically. Buggy laughed in response to her tone, lifting a hand to pat her cheek mockingly.

"Join my crew."He whispered to her, his face close to hers. Squinting, she tilted her head to the side against her raised forearm. --"No."She whispered back in a taunting tone.

She expected him to blow up but he didn't. Whether she wanted it or not, Buggy felt some sort of fucked up connection to her. He dropped his head in mock disappointment, his gaze on the floor as he sighed dramatically.

"What could those nobodies possibly have to offer you, anyway?"He questioned, lifting his head. His breath fanned against her face as he leaned in closer to her.

He raised a mocking eyebrow. --"A family?"He questioned sarcastically. Family is a touchy subject for her. She craned her neck back a little as his face got closer to hers.

"I could be your family."He tells her, his nose nearly touching hers. Her heart thudded a little louder against her ribcage at the closeness but she didn't back down. A hum rumbled up her throat as she eyed him, her brown eyes piercing.

"How about you unchain me and I consider it?"She tried and Buggy let out an amused laugh in response. --"Nice try, short stuff."He replied.

He took a step back, still peeling off some of his apple. --"Now I-"He paused to lift up a chunk of the apple he had cut off. --"-am going to go question our stretchy friend. I need my map back."He spoke, still grinning.

He then lifted the chunk of apple up to her lips, using his gloved fingers to pry open her mouth and slip the fruit between her lips. He clamped her jaw back shut, his eyes darting across her face mockingly.

The sweet taste of the fruit was welcomed against her tongue as she moved her jaw to chew on the apple, not breaking eye contact with the clown.

He continued to grin, his face still incredibly close to hers. --"I'll leave you alone to go over your options."He whispered, flashing a toothy grin.

Her eyes followed him as he left the room, shutting the door behind him. A near groan left her lips when she heard the sound of the door being locked again.

"shit."

She was going to be here for a while.

[redvelvettel]

who needs stars, we've got a roof. ☆cl16

masterlist

author's note. finally writing something after like a month, had this unbearable burst of motivation. this one is heavily inspired by nothing by bruno major. listen to it while reading this if you want the full experience:)

as always, come over to talk, give feedback, give opinions, ask requests, or anything at all. asks are always open. ♡♡♡

warnings: fluff, angst. lowercase intended.

summary: moments with his girlfriend that altered Charles Leclerc's brain chemistry

charles leclerc wasn't exactly a man who knew his way with words. he might not have perfect answers for every question he was asked, but he could tell you one thing. if anyone were to ask what his favorite thing to do, ever, was, he would tell you that it was doing nothing with his girl.

---------

she kept tossing and turning in the bed, not caring enough that it might wake up the man beside her. she couldn't care less that he was tired, that he had just returned home a few hours prior after a double header, and that he was a light sleeper. the windows were open to let the summer breeze in, and her skin was starting to itch. he was starting to wake.

he eventually turns to face her, having had enough of her whines. 'what is it' he tried to sound irritated, but he wasn't fooling anyone. he could never be annoyed, not with her. 'i want ice cream' he sighed, getting up and walking into the kitchen to fetch her some. he comes back in a minute, pointing an accusatory finger at her. 'you' he moves to sit on the bed, just as she gets up, leaning her weight on her elbows. 'you had all the ice cream we had-' 'i can explain-'.

they both sit across each other in a small ice cream shop 20 minutes later. she thanks whatever god there is that this store was somehow open at this unconventional time, and that too in some alley away from the streets that she was sure were still busy and, oh so noisy.

she feels giddy, like a kid in a candy store. which, she suppose she was. charles watches her with a smile on his face, in a sweater she will be sure to rip off him the minute they get back home. he hasn't had a single bite of the strawberry ice cream she had ordered for him, too busy watching her.

she somehow manages to get her own strawberry ice cream on her nose, and charles doesnt even realise what he's doing until she looks up at him as he wipes the ice cream off her nose with his thumb, and licks it. he reaches his body over the small table a minute later, and kisses her. he then leans back in his chair, and finally starts eating his ice cream, after being threatened by his girlfriend.

charles steals glances at her and tries not to get caught, like he was a school boy trying to look at his crush without making it too obvious that he was staring. he tries to commit this frame to his memory, almost like he was never going to experience it again. he pays for two chocolate ice creams to go, and holds out the door as he lets her settle into the passenger seat of his car before placing the bag in her lap.

charles wasn't a relegious person by any means, no, so he thanks the universe instead, for keeping the ice cream shop open. he likes to think that it was something more than a coincidence.

---------

charles likes to act like he hates the notebook, which wasn't entirely false. he doesn't hate watching it with his girlfriend, but he hates how many times she has made him watch that one single godforsaken movie.

he grumbles into her shoulder, complaining for the 100th time that evening. they had been too lazy to put on decent clothes and go out to eat, so take out and movie night it was. the notebook plays on the tv, and boxes of chinese takeout lay on the coffee table as charles' lays his body on top of his girlfriend's on the couch.

'charles, if i hear you say anything one more time so help me god i will throw you out of the window'. he laughs at this, amused as he imagines how the scene would actually play out. she shushes him, and keeps her palm flat against his lips, and it stays there until he gets bored again and starts licking it.

it's her turn to be amused when she hears him wiping his nose with a hand kerchief just as the movie comes to an end. she takes out her phone, and takes what feels like a hundred photos of him crying to the movie he supposedly hates.

---------

they're both panting, their legs tangled together, both laying on their backs to the mattress, with a thin layer of sweat covering their bodies. she says they should really get up and shower, or they'll be too hot to get any actual sleep. 'in a minute', he says.

he turns to look at her, and she keeps staring at the ceiling. he feels like he could cry when she looks up at him with hooded eyes. he tells her how much he loves her, with infant tears adorning his eyes. she pulls the bedsheet over their bodies, and leans closer to bite at his bottom lip.

he pulls her closer and she eventually ends up on top of him, her chin on his chest and looking up at him with those eyes again. no words could ever convey what they feel for eachother, and they stay in a heap on the bed, too tired to do anything else.

he tells her how much he adores her and how she was the love of his life, 4 more times before she falls asleep on his chest. charles always makes sure to leave no words unsaid. he always says enough for the both of them.

---------

charles holds his heart on his sleeve as he tries not to freak out, his fiance far too drunk to be dancing on a table the way she was, on a fucking yacht nonetheless. he hovers around the table, ready to catch her when she inevitably falls.

what was supposed to be a small dinner with some friends on his yatch, had somehow turned into an overnight party, thanks to pierre being pierre. she had originally not wanted to attend the party at all, feigning tiredness. charles wondered where it had gone, the minute she saw pierre and his girlfriend.

she falls over the edge of the table, red wine splattering all over the floor of charles' yacht. her upper body suffers no impact, unlike her legs and thighs, charles having caught her in time. he later rubs her legs with muscle spray on their bed back home, her being too gone to register the act.

she wakes up with no pain body pains, and charles doesn't mention her hurting herself ever again.

---------

lando makes them play mario kart, wanting to finally defeat charles after losing brutally every single time he's played with the monegasque. they're on the couch, shouting like teenage boys when she gets home with grocery bags almost falling out of her hands in their hallway.

she huffs and puffs as she puts them away in assigned cabinets, and she thinks she hears lando crying. finally making her way to the living room with a cup of tea in her hands, she watches lando making mistakes he could've easily avoided, only if he wasn't so stupid.

she tells him exactly that as she snatches the controller from his hands, and he's too shocked to say anything. charles lets out a laugh, and lando doesn't worry much because he knows charles was too good at this game to not win, and patiently waits for his turn to call her stupid.

she leaps up from the couch, and shoves her hands into charles' face, being too smug about her win. lando stares at him, slack mouthed and annoyed that he'd let her win.

there's not many people charles wouldn't mind losing to, and she was always the first on that list.

---------

he could feel her staring at him from the passenger seat, and she's too tired to feel embarrassed about it. they're in his car returning home from a gala they had to attend, and charles told her one too many times that he would rather be at home, doing nothing with her.

'never leave me, charles.' he waits until they reach a red light, and turns in his seat to properly look at her. she has the softest smile on her lips, her lipstick a little smudged. her freckles stand out from the moonlight, and she looks like she could fall asleep any moment.

charles has to stop himself and admire her, and he thinks she could sprout wings from her back any moment now and he wouldn't be surprised. she was his angel, his precious angel of a girl.

'I couldn't if I tried, you've bewitched me body and soul'. he knows it will make her crazy, that line. he has seen her physically clutching her heart everytime she's somehow reminded of it.

she tells him how happy she is right now, and says that she wouldn't mind if she died right then and there. charles brings her hand to his mouth and places a kiss on the back of her palm in response.

---------

charles is sure god isn't real now. he's not sure who's to blame. he's not sure where it all went wrong. maybe it's true that nothing lasts forever. she never got to walk down the aisle to him like they dreamed of.

charles says nothing as she leaves the keys on a table beside the door, and he couldn't convince himself to look at her face one last time, as the door closed shut.

charles never seems to find the ice cream shop open when he's wandering through monaco alone, on those sleepless nights. he supposes it's for the best, and he's not entirely sure that he could have a strawberry ice cream in that shop without breaking down. so he sits outside the shop instead, replaying the scene of her across the table from him in his head.

he never loses to anyone at mario kart again, and he doesn't scream with his hands in the air when he wins. he tries not to cry as the notebook plays on the tv, during a movie night with his friends. he thinks pierre squeezes his knee to offer comfort, but he's not sure about that either.

he lays in his bed, after opening his windows just the way she always had them open, reaches his hand to his side, and longs for the weight of her on his chest. he knows he'll never feel it again, and thinks of all the things he would do just to feel her lips on his, just one more time.

[charliedawn]

request for all 3 Sinclair brothers (only dating the reader obv) Where like when taking care of a decent group of victims, they notice reader isn’t anywhere to be found? They look everywhere and can’t find any signs. Turns out she is asleep on the roof of the house, chilling. Sorry if this doesn’t make sense.

This is my first time trying 'fluff' I guess ?

Enjoy !

It was a lovely night and—instead of following the rest of the brothers who had decided to spare their victims and actually help them—you climbed up one of the empty houses of the ghost town Ambrose had become. You looked up at the stars and realized it might be one of the only places in the country where the stars showed so clearly. You just wanted to have a moment away from the other survivors and thought it would be a good idea to come here without warning the Sinclair brothers—unaware of the worry you would cause them. They started searching for you frantically in every house, afraid you might have escaped. They split and decided to cover more ground in hopes of finding you.

But, it was Bo who found you first.

He looked at you from afar, frowning as he saw you smile...smile at the stars. He had never seen you smile like that. His fists clenched as he realized you were smiling for something so stupid...while you had never smiled at him for anything—certainly not like that anyway. But, he relaxed when he saw your tears. He thought you were hurt and immediately got out of his hiding place to sit down next to you.

"What the hell are ya doin' here, sweetheart ?", he asked and you seemed stunned for a second at his presence. You didn't think he would be the first one to find you, but you should have known. He was always a good tracker. A hunter in the bones. You weren't sure as to whether or not you should be talking to him first, but you answered nonetheless.

"I was...watching the stars.", you confessed and Bo frowned a little before leaning forward to look at your wet cheeks and empty expression. It seemed you weren't even seeing him. He wanted to shake you awake.

"Why in the bloody carnation would ya go and do sumthin' like that ?", Bo asked—clearly not understanding the reason behind your behavior. Had they done something wrong ?

"...I just needed time to think."

The survivors had asked if you wanted to follow them, but you weren't sure. You had hence decided to go up here and think—even catch some sleep maybe...But, sleep didn't seem to come. You loved the Sinclair brothers, but you could feel that something wasn't right. You weren't right.

"Yar seriously worryin' me, sweet thing. What's the matter ?" Your bottom lip trembled and your eyes watered once more. It wasn't right...The feelings you had for him and his brothers. They were killers, and even though they were trying to change for you, it wouldn't erase everything. You knew that. And yet...you had still managed to fall for them. Hard. It was more than a little crush. More than a fling. You were in love, and the sole notion was crushing you from the inside, because how were you supposed to love them and protect them when you weren't even a slasher ?

"I'm just...happy we've met. And I was thanking the stars we did.", you smiled weakly. It felt fake.

A half-truth.

But, he seemed to buy it.

"Aww...Sweet thing.", he kissed your forehead lovingly and somehow, his kiss burned you. "We sure glad we met ya too."

Your breath hitched and you wished the kiss didn't feel so sinful. You wished Bo was a man. You wished you weren't one of their victims. You wished your heart hadn't grown attached to the three serial killers. You weren't delusional, just in love. And it hurt.

Lester found your hiding spot next and stopped as he saw the both of you intertwined. His jaw twitched and he marched to you before getting Bo away from you.

"Hey ! Paws off, Bo !" Bo seemed annoyed at being interrupted, but only shrugged before licking his lips and smirked.

"What's wrong, little bro ? Jealous or sumthin' ?" Lester rolled his eyes before sitting down between the both of you and ignoring Bo. He looked at you instead and frowned worriedly as he saw your thoughtful face.

"...Are ya alright ?" He seemed genuinely concerned, but before you could answer—Bo did it for you.

"Of course they alright ! I ain't done anythin' !" Lester eyed Bo suspiciously before shaking his head. He would deal with Bo later...

"It would be the first time...", he mumbled and Bo's eyes widened.

"HEY ! What's that supposed to mean ?!"

Alerted by Bo's protesting, Vincent found the three of you and silently approached you while studying your expression carefully. He knew that look. It was the same he had when Ma and Pa had decided to separate him from Bo. He was afraid it might have snapped whatever connection they had—but he was sure glad when it didn't.

Vince stayed silent and sat down at the empty spot next to you while the other two started bickering. He looked up and let out a soft sigh. It was a beautiful night indeed, and he wasn't about to ruin it. Bo and Lester seemed to understand it wasn't the time to fight and eventually calmed down. Vince scooted closer to you and the other two brothers soon followed. You were shoulder to shoulder and the brothers decided to respect your wish for peace.

You stayed in perfect silence for a few minutes before you smiled to yourself and laid down on the roof—still looking up.

"I wonder if there are people up there ? Watching us like we are ?", you asked—a clumsy way to change the subject. Bo let out a small skeptical snort before shaking his head.

"Nah. If anything, they'd be laughing at us."

Lester sent him a warning glance before looking at you with a smile.

"I'm sure they are, darls'. And they' jealous. Because they don't got ya'."

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath before smiling—feeling safe with the three brothers surrounding you. It felt like home. But then, the feeling came rushing back—threatening to burst out of your chest.

"...I wonder if you’ll still like me if I told you what I felt for you...for you all."

You hadn't actually meant for them to hear that. It was supposed to be a question for the stars—but of course Bo would decide otherwise.

"And what exactly are ya feelin' ?", he asked with a small playful smile and you sighed. It was no secret the brothers had been fighting over you. Lester and Bo kept shouting at each other for no reason whenever in your presence. Vince had closed himself off in his work and barely showed his face anymore. Bo had decided to do the same at the garage. At the end, it felt like you were alone in the house. A mindless ghost going from door to door. It was almost like you missed the days when you were their victim, at least they were together and you knew that no matter what—they'd be a pack. But, now ? The pack seemed rather split and especially with he decision not to kill all the victims. Bo was against it. Of course. Vince was was rather sad to have lost his life models—but had stayed silent as always. And Lester...even though Lester was very talkative—he hadn't spoken up on his opinion.

At the end, you had had no choice but disappear to finally gather them all in the same place.

"I love you." None of the brothers spoke or reacted for a few seconds and you decided to share what had been tearing you apart. "And I see that it's driving you against each other that I don't want you to kill anyone. And I don't want that. And I don't want to choose either. And it's driving me insane."

Vince couldn't take it anymore and pulled you into his arms. He had been shy to actually do it for weeks and felt guilty at making you feel in such a way without noticing.

"Hey hey. Look at me. We love ya too, sweetie. We always have. And if you don't want us to kill ? Then, we'll stop. Gladly. It's okay.", Lester tried to comfort you and smiled reassuringly at you while stroking your arm lovingly.

"And who said anythin' about choosin' ?!", Bo asked with a small frown of incomprehension. "Ya think we kids or sumthin' ? We men. We take our goddamn decisions. Who ever said you had to choose for us ?! Or, that it had anythin' to do with ya ?!"

"You all became so aggressive between each other since I arrived, so I assumed...", you started and Bo tsskd.

"We brothers. We rednecks. We basically made for fightin'.", he explained and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He wasn't good with all that complicated feelings' stuff...

Fuck. He needed a damn smoke !

He let out a small sigh and cracked his neck to the side. When he reopened his eyes, both of his brothers were holding you and he then realized that you had stopped crying. You were now looking at him with a small sheepish smile and held out your hand to him. He shook his head and raised himself on his feet to leave.

"Oh hell no. Nope. Ain't gonna be all mushy and stuff !"

But he was pulled back down by Lester who gave him an annoyed look.

"Come on, Bo ! Stop bitchin' and get over here !"

Bo seemed surprised. He was usually the only one cursing, but Lester seemed determined to get him to show some love.

"Fine ! Jeez ! I swear y'all make me wanna barf with all this emotional bullshit !", he grumbled before finally indulging and wrapping his arms around the three of you.

You closed your eyes and smiled. You felt...safe.

"Would you...stay with me a little longer ?", you asked with a small shiver and waited as the brothers reluctantly released you to answer.

"Of course, sweetie. Anythin' ya want.", Lester said with a reassuring smile.

"Whatever...", Bo added and Vince nodded suit. You all looked up at the stars and weren't aware of the same wish you all made at that very moment. It wasn't much, but but you all wished to stay together forever.

You knew it would be difficult, but you were certain everything would be alright—unaware of the worried glances the brothers exchanged behind your back. Truth was, they had no clue where everything was going and preferred to lie and reassure you than confessing it.

The bloodthirst was still there, lurking in the dark.

Being slashers meant more than just wanting blood. It was need. Pure instinct. Even now, the sparks of murderous intents could be felt at the back of their heads. You didn't notice as their shadows enveloped you. One way or another, you would never leave them. They would try to change for you, but either way...It'd be at your risk, not theirs.

You didn't notice the way Vince's grip on you turned possessive, or how Bo's eyes darkened as he kissed the back of your hand. Lester saw it, but didn't say anything.

Afterall, he was a Sinclair too.

He smiled.

Goodnight, sweet rabbit...

[saturnsfavouritemoon]

Who needs stars... we've got a roof❤️

[theywantedplayer]

i know it’s not on your prompt list but i was listening to nothing by bruno major earlier and the lyrics ‘but there’s nothing like doing nothing with you’ made me desperate for jamie drysdale fluff

If something isn't on the prompt list it's totally okay to still send in a request I only work off of requests so I love when I get them 

Cuz you'll watch the TV while I'm watching you 

Jamie wasn't even paying attention to the movie anymore, all of his attention was directed to you. He was obsessed with you at this very moment, the way you watched the movie eagerly,with a soft smile. He loved nights like these, just being able to sit around and do nothing with you. He smiled lovingly at the way you laughed at the tv, he could listen to your laugh any time of the day and he'd still want to hear it again. You felt someone staring at you, you turned and saw Jamie just smiling at you. You just gave him a confused look.

“What?” you asked

Jamie just smiled bigger at the cute way your face scrunched up from confusion 

‘I just love you” He spoke as he pulled you to his side of the couch.

Dumb conversations we lose track of time 

“What do you think different colors would taste like if they had a taste?”

“What?” Jamie laughed at your question 

“What do you think different colors would taste like if they had a taste?” you asked again 

Jamie stopped watching whatever was on the tv clearly really trying to come up with an answer

“Yellow Of course would taste sour” Jamie told, you nodded in agreement

“I'm also thinking red would be sweet”He suggested 

“What?! No red would be spicy” you argued “Pink is sweet”

Jamie just smiled and shook his head “an apple is sweet, so i'm thinking red would be sweet” 

“Jamie you know I love you” You said, he already knew what you were going to say before it even came out of your mouth “But thats 100% wrong, red would be spicy”

You and Jamie ended up playfully arguing back and forth for around five minutes growing louder and louder in the apartment .

“Jamie on a spice Meter its red because RED IS SPICY” you shouted but Jmaie and you were smiling thru the whole thing 

“Raspberries are red and sweet no its-” “CAN YOU GUYS SHUT UP!”

You both turned so see a very sleepy Trevor who just clearly woke up from his sleep.

“It's 11:30 to go to bed” He groaned, leaning up against the door frame closing his eyes.

“Sorry Z I guess we lost track of time” Jamie laughed scratching the back of his neck

“Yea yea yea whatever” Trevor sighed “Y/n’s right by the way red would be spicy” Trevor told weighing in on the debate.

“HA I TOLD YOU” You smiled with Satisfaction 

Who needs stars? we've got a roof

Jamie ran his fingers down the side of your arm as you both laid in bed on your backs,You used Jamie's arm as a pillow. You guys have done nothing all day but snuggle,watched tv and talk and you both had no complaints. Jamie loved being around you even if you both were doing nothing, you just being there with him was enough for him. You felt Jamie's fingers go limp and stop moving, so you looked up to see his sleeping face.

You smiled at the sight of Jamie's slightly open mouth, you moved onto your side to be face to face with him. You placed your hand on his cheek and ran your thumb over his freckles making sure to touch everyone. You always loved waking up before Jamie because being met with an adorable boy like him was a great way to start your day.

You pushed some of the hairs out of his eyes making his stur in his sleep and mutter incoherent words under his breath

“Y/n” was all you could hear him Mumble out as he pulled you into his chest,resting his chin on top of your head.

[nervoustoastthing]

Annabeth singing this to Percy. Annabeth singing this to Percy. Annabeth singing this to Percy. Annabeth singing this to Percy. Annabeth singing this to Percy. Annabeth singing this to Percy. Annabeth singing this to Percy.

Track suits and red wine Movies for two We'll take off our phones And we'll turn off our shoes We'll play Nintendo Though I always lose 'Cause you'll watch the TV While I'm watching you

There's not many people I'd honestly say I don't mind losing to But there's nothing Like doing nothing With you

Dumb conversations We lose track of time Have I told you lately I'm grateful you're mine We'll watch The Notebook For the 17th time I'll say "It's stupid" Then you'll catch me crying

We're not making out On a boat in the rain Or in a house I've painted blue But there's nothing Like doing nothing With you

So shut all the windows And lock all the doors We're not looking for no one Don't need nothing more You'll bite my lip and I'll want you more Until we end up in a heap on the floor Mmm

You could be dancing on tabletops Wearing high-heels Drinking until the world Spins like a wheel But tonight your apartment Had so much appeal Who needs stars? We've got a roof

But there's nothing Like doing nothing With you Mmm No, there's nothing Like doing nothing With you

IT’S THEM.

[ironwitchpainter]

Star Trek: Planetary Perception and Pursuit, Episode 4: The Rollercoaster Experience

The Enterprise streaks through the cosmos, the stars blurring into lines of light as it travels at maximum warp speed back to Earth. The journey is filled with a mix of anticipation and exhaustion, the crew eager to share their tale and process the profound events that have unfolded. Upon their arrival in Earth's orbit, the ship is met with a flurry of activity as the planet's defenses acknowledge the return of their flagship. The order is given, and the Enterprise descends into the embrace of the Starfleet docking bay, its engines powering down with a sigh of relief. The moment the docking clamps engage, the crew is informed that shore leave has been granted.

McCoy, still standing by Kirk's side, looks over at the captain with a raised eyebrow. "I don't suppose you'd consider staying in sickbay for a bit of R&R?" His Southern drawl is laced with the hint of a challenge. "You've earned it, and I'd sleep better knowing you're not going to keel over the moment we step foot on Earth."

Kirk chuckles, the sound echoing in the sudden quiet of the bridge. "Bones, I appreciate the concern, but I'm feeling fit as a fiddle." He winks at McCoy. "Besides, you know I can't resist the charm of Earth. I've got a feeling we're all going to have a nice, low-key time. We've dodged enough bullets and kissed enough dragons for one day." He claps his hands together, the sound sharp and final. "Now, let's get down there and enjoy some well-deserved rest and relaxation. I'm sure we won't find any trouble on good ol' Terra Firma."

With the ship safely docked, Captain Kirk, Dr. McCoy, and Mr. Spock prepare to beam down to the countryside of Earth. The transporter room is filled with the comforting hum of the transporter as the three officers stand side by side on the pad. Kirk's eyes are alight with excitement, while McCoy looks slightly skeptical, and Spock maintains his usual stoic demeanor. The world outside the ship awaits them, a stark contrast to the alien landscapes they've just left behind. The countryside of Earth offers a serene backdrop of rolling hills, lush forests, and the occasional distant farmhouse - a reminder of the simplicity and beauty of the planet they fight to protect.

McCoy, as the transporter effect fades, looks around with a sigh of relief. "Ah, fresh air," he says, inhaling deeply. "And no more temporal shenanigans, I hope." He looks over at Kirk, who's staring into the horizon, a look of quiet contemplation on his face. "Jim, you alright?"

Kirk blinks, bringing himself back to the present. "Yeah, Bones," he says, his voice a bit distant. "Just thinking about the choices we've made, and the future we've shaped." He turns to face McCoy and Spock. "I've got a feeling we're going to need to keep our wits about us, even on Earth. We've changed history, after all."

As the three officers, Captain Kirk, Dr. McCoy, and Mr. Spock, disembark from the transporter pad, they find themselves on the lush, green grounds of a quaint farmhouse. The building is nestled among rolling hills, surrounded by a patchwork of fields and forests. The sun is setting, casting a warm glow over the landscape, and the scent of freshly tilled earth and blooming flowers fills the air. A gentle breeze whispers through the leaves of the nearby trees, carrying the distant sounds of animals settling down for the night. The farmhouse itself is a picturesque example of human architecture, with its whitewashed walls and thatched roof, standing as a bastion of simplicity amidst the complexities of the cosmos they've just left behind. It's a stark contrast to the gleaming steel corridors of the Enterprise, and yet, it holds a certain allure, a promise of rest and respite from the stars.

The farmhouse before them is not just any ordinary abode; it holds a special significance to Captain Kirk. This is the place where he was born and raised, the very same farm in rural Iowa that shaped him into the man he is today. The house stands tall and proud, a silent witness to the countless battles he's fought, the lives he's touched, and the history he's shaped. It's a place where Kirk can find peace, surrounded by the memories of his youth and the warmth of his humanity. The porch creaks with age, the garden is overgrown with flowers that seem to nod in welcome, and the old oak tree in the backyard stretches its branches out like welcoming arms. This is where the legend of Captain James T. Kirk began, and it's where he finds solace amidst the infinite vastness of space.

As Kirk approaches the farmhouse door, his hand reaching out to grasp the weathered wood, it seems to resist his touch. It's as if the very fabric of the house is hesitant to let him in, to acknowledge the man he's become. With a grunt, he gives it a firm tug, and the door slowly creaks open. On the other side, an Andorian stands, his antennae twitching with curiosity. Dressed in the traditional attire of an Earth farmer, the blue-skinned alien looks utterly at home amidst the rustic setting. His eyes widen in surprise as he recognizes the captain. "Captain Kirk!" he exclaims, his voice a mix of astonishment and joy. "What brings you here?"

It's Yagi's father, a member of the Andorian contingent on Earth who had befriended Kirk's own father. The Andorian's presence here is a poignant reminder of the diverse tapestry of life that now calls Earth home. His eyes are filled with the warmth of a long-lost friend as he takes in the sight of the man who had once been a young boy playing under his care. "I was just tending to the crops," he says, a broad smile spreading across his face. "But I can see you've had quite the adventure."

The scene unfolds, and it gradually becomes clear that in this altered timeline, this is not Kirk's childhood home but rather the family house of Lieutenant Yagi. The farmhouse, though familiar in its quaint charm, holds a different set of memories, a different history, a different warmth. The pictures on the walls, the layout of the rooms, the very air carries the essence of a life Kirk knew nothing about. The realization sinks in as the captain steps inside, his eyes scanning the unfamiliar yet comforting surroundings. This is where the story of Yagi's youth was written, a story that Kirk now feels a part of, woven into the fabric of his own life by the threads of fate and friendship.

Kirk's communicator chirps to life in his pocket, and he pulls it out with a sense of urgency. "Yagi, come in," he says into the device. There's a moment of static before a voice, filled with confusion, responds. "Yagi here, Captain. What's the situation?" Kirk's expression softens, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Look around you, Lieutenant. Wherever you thought you were going to visit your family, they're not there. They're here, with us. The timeline has shifted, and we're all connected in ways we never could have imagined."

The voice on the other end of the communicator is a mix of shock and amazement. "Understood, Captain," Yagi says, his tone reflecting the gravity of the revelation. "We're beaming down now. I'll... I'll be there shortly." The line goes silent, and Kirk pockets the communicator, looking over at McCoy and Spock. "Well, gentlemen," he says, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "it seems we've got an impromptu family reunion on our hands."

Kirk steps into the farmhouse, his eyes taking in the unfamiliar yet comforting surroundings. He addresses the Andorian farmer with a mix of wonder and concern. "But if Yagi's family is here, where's mine?" The question hangs in the air, heavy with the weight of his own displacement. "The timeline... it's changed, hasn't it?" His gaze drifts to the pictures on the walls, the unmistakable Andorian artifacts that speak of a life intertwined with humanity in a way he had never known. The warmth in the room seems to intensify, as if the very walls are welcoming him into a new chapter of his life's story.

Yagi's father, the Andorian, tilts his head in curiosity. "Your family, Captain?" he asks, his voice filled with gentle confusion. "I believe they've been relocated to Tarsus. After the incident, it was deemed safer for them to be closer to the diplomatic envoy." He looks around the room, his smile fading slightly. "But fear not, your presence here is a testament to the strength of the bonds you've formed. You are part of our family now, too."

Kirk nods, processing the information. He looks out the window, the setting sun casting a warm glow over the landscape. "Tarsus," he murmurs to himself. "Home is where the heart is, I suppose." He turns back to the Andorian, his expression resolute. "Thank you for looking after this place, for being part of the fabric of this new history." His eyes flick to McCoy and Spock, who have remained silent, allowing the captain to process the revelation. "I guess we'll have to make the most of this unexpected turn of events."

McCoy, his hand on Kirk's shoulder, offers a reassuring squeeze. "Home's where you make it, Jim," he says, his voice warm and steady. "And it seems we've got ourselves a whole new set of memories to make here." He looks around the room, taking in the unfamiliar yet comforting sights. "But first things first," he adds, turning to the Andorian. "I'm guessing we could all use a good meal and some rest. You wouldn't mind if I use your kitchen to whip up something hearty, would you?"

The Andorian farmer, still smiling, gestures towards the kitchen with a sweep of his arm. "Please, make yourselves at home," he says. "I've got plenty of fresh produce from the fields, and I'm sure we can rustle up something delightful." The room feels alive with the promise of shared experiences and new beginnings, as the three officers begin to unpack their bags and settle into their unexpected lodgings.

The transporter room aboard the Enterprise is a whirl of activity as Yagi and the rest of the team prepare to beam down. His mind racing with questions, he can't help but feel a strange sense of excitement and belonging as he hears Kirk's words. The transporter effect engulfs them, and moments later, they materialize in the farmhouse's backyard, the cool evening air a stark contrast to the ship's sterile environment. They looks around, seeing their teammates - their friends - standing before them, all looking as surprised as he feels.

Spock, ever the logical voice of reason, raises an eyebrow at the new revelation. "Indeed, Captain," he says, his tone measured. "It appears that our actions have not only affected the future of Organia but also the personal histories of each of us." He glances around the room, noticing the subtle differences that speak of a life intertwined with Andorians. "This... unexpected development will require careful consideration and adaptation."

Kirk turns to face Yagi, his eyes warm with a genuine smile. "Welcome home, Lieutenant," he says, extending a hand. "I know it's not the reunion you were expecting, but sometimes, the universe has a way of bringing us to where we truly belong." He glances around the room, his gaze lingering on the Andorian farmer. "It seems we've been granted the opportunity to be part of something greater than ourselves. To build bridges where once there were walls." He gestures to the table, laden with a feast of Earthly and Andorian delights. "Let's sit, share a meal, and get to know our new family a bit better, shall we?"

Kirk, Spock, and McCoy, having settled into the warm embrace of the farmhouse, find themselves drawn into a discussion about their plans for shore leave. The trio sits around the wooden table, the light from the flickering candles dancing in their eyes as they speak. Kirk, ever the optimist, had envisioned a simple visit to his childhood home, a chance to reconnect with his roots and perhaps indulge in a bit of fast driving. Spock, on the other hand, had planned to visit a library, to immerse himself in the vast pool of knowledge that is human literature, while McCoy had his heart set on a quiet retreat, surrounded by the soothing sounds of nature and the gentle hum of medical technology as he caught up on his research.

As the evening deepens and the stars come out to play, the conversation shifts to the myriad of possibilities that Earth has to offer. "Why not see the sights?" Kirk suggests, his eyes alight with excitement. "We could ride a roller coaster, visit the zoo, or explore the vast treasure troves of knowledge that are the museums. Or perhaps," he adds with a mischievous glint, "try our hand at ice skating. It's a human tradition, a dance on the frozen surface of water. It's exhilarating, and I guarantee it'll make you feel alive."

Spock, his gaze thoughtful, considers Kirk's proposal. "While I appreciate the cultural significance of such activities, Captain, I had intended to utilize this shore leave to further understand human emotions through literature. The works of Shakespeare, perhaps, or the philosophical musings of Earth's ancient thinkers." He pauses, tilting his head slightly. "Though, I concede that experiencing new physical sensations could also provide valuable insight into the human condition."

Kirk grins at Spock, clapping him on the back. "That's the spirit, Spock," he says, his voice filled with warmth. "Embracing the unexpected, that's what life's all about. And who knows, maybe you'll find a newfound love for the thrill of the rink or the roar of a car engine." He winks. "But, of course, I'll respect your need for intellectual pursuits. Maybe we can find a way to blend the two, eh?"

Yagi's antennae twitch with excitement as they speak up, a local attraction coming to mind. "Captain, Dr. McCoy, Mr. Spock, I've heard of a place that might just serve both purposes. It's called the 'Cosmic Carnival of Wonders'. It's a blend of Earth's past and present, with thrilling rides, a virtual library filled with the greatest works of literature, and even an ice skating rink. It's a celebration of diversity and unity, a place where all species can come together to enjoy themselves and learn about each other." Their eyes shine with enthusiasm. "It's not too far from here, and I'm sure it'd be an enlightening experience for us all."

McCoy snorts, a bemused smile playing on his lips. "A 'Cosmic Carnival of Wonders' way out here in the sticks?" He looks around the room, taking in the simple yet charming decor of the farmhouse. "Well, I'll be darned. I didn't think we'd find anything like that around these parts. But you know what, Yagi? That sounds like just the kind of crazy Earth adventure we could all do with right now." He gets up from his chair, stretching his legs. "Count me in. After all, it's not every day you get to see Shakespeare performed by Andorians, or Spock trying to land a space hopper."

Spock raises an eyebrow at the suggestion, his curiosity piqued. "A synthesis of cultural education and physical exertion," he muses. "It is an... intriguing proposition." He turns to Yagi's father. "Would you care to join us in this exploration of human customs?"

The Andorian farmer's smile broadens at the invitation. "Indeed, I would be most honored," he replies, his antennae waving in delight. "It's been quite some time since I've had the pleasure of witnessing the diversity and unity that such gatherings bring. Plus," he adds with a twinkle in his eye, "I've always had a soft spot for Earth's peculiar pastimes."

Kirk nods in agreement, his eyes reflecting the excitement of the group. "It's settled then," he declares, pushing back his chair. "We'll make a day of it tomorrow. Now, let's get some rest. We've got a full plate of experiences waiting for us, and I, for one, intend to savor every moment." He looks around the table, his gaze lingering on each of his friends. "This place, this new history we've found ourselves in, it's a gift. And I, for one, am not going to waste a second of it."

The next morning, as the first light of dawn filters through the windows of the farmhouse, the aroma of a hearty breakfast fills the air. Yagi's father, dressed in his usual farmer's attire, approaches the table with a steaming pot of coffee. "Please," he says, gesturing for everyone to help themselves. "Call me Thrall." The simplicity of the gesture, asking them to use his first name, speaks volumes about the trust and kinship that has grown between them overnight. The room buzzes with energy as the officers discuss their plans for the day ahead, the promise of the 'Cosmic Carnival of Wonders' a beacon of excitement in the otherwise serene landscape.

With the warmth of Thrall's hospitality filling their hearts, Kirk, Spock, McCoy, and the others set off for the 'Cosmic Carnival of Wonders', a place where the past and present of Earth converge in a whirlwind of color and sound. The journey is a short one, the farmhouse's antiquated charm giving way to the futuristic sights and sounds of the 23rd century as they approach the sprawling entertainment complex. The carnival's neon lights pierce the early morning gloom, beckoning them with the promise of adventure and discovery. The air is filled with the laughter of children, the tantalizing smells of exotic foods, and the distant hum of alien languages mingling with the familiar twang of Earth's diverse dialects.

As they arrive at the 'Cosmic Carnival of Wonders', Spock finds himself genuinely intrigued by the myriad of sensory stimuli that assaults his Vulcan senses. "Fascinating," he murmurs, his gaze taking in the vibrant tapestry of life before them. "This place appears to be a microcosm of the Federation itself, a blend of species and cultures coming together to share in the pursuit of knowledge and entertainment." His voice carries a tone of curiosity, a rare emotion for a Vulcan. "The interweaving of such disparate elements into a cohesive and harmonious experience is indeed... enlightening."

McCoy's eyes light up at the sight of the carnival, his face breaking into a wide smile. "Looks like we're in for a real hoot!" he says, clapping his hands together. "A place that combines the thrills of the future with the charm of the past, and serves up a dash of Shakespeare on the side? Count me in, folks!" His Southern drawl thickens with excitement as he surveys the rides and attractions. "Let's not forget, we're here to have some fun, too."

Spock turns to Kirk, his expression a mix of curiosity and amusement. "You seem particularly eager for this 'roller coaster' experience, Captain," he says, one eyebrow arched. "I must admit, I am somewhat... intrigued by the concept of voluntarily subjecting oneself to such intense gravitational forces."

Kirk laughs, the sound rich and hearty. "Spock, my friend, you've got to live a little!" He claps Spock on the shoulder. "You can't always be in a library or a lab. Sometimes you've got to throw caution to the wind and just... ride the roller coaster of life!" He winks, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "Besides, if you don't come with us, you'll miss out on the thrill of watching Bones scream like a little girl when we hit those loops!"

McCoy snorts, his cheeks coloring slightly. "I'll have you know, Kirk, that I can handle a little excitement," he says, crossing his arms over his chest. "But if I'm going to be scared out of my wits, I'd rather it be because of a medical emergency than some contraption designed to make you feel like you're about to fly apart at the seams."

Spock's gaze remains steady on Kirk, a hint of challenge in his eyes. "Very well, Captain. I shall endeavor to experience this 'roller coaster' for the sake of understanding human behavior in... exhilarating situations." He nods to McCoy. "And perhaps, Doctor, the experience will provide some insight into the physiological responses to fear and excitement."

With Kirk's infectious enthusiasm leading the way, the group of friends make their way through the bustling carnival crowd, weaving past stalls of alien delicacies and throngs of laughing children. The air is alive with the clang of metal, the screams of delight from those already on the rides, and the tantalizing smells of funnel cakes and other Earthly treats. They arrive at the gleaming roller coaster, a colossal structure that spirals into the sky like a serpent made of steel. The ride's name, "The Celestial Whirlwind," flickers in neon lights above the entrance, and the line of eager participants snakes around the base, a mix of humans and various alien species all dressed in a riot of colors that reflect the carnival's vibrant spirit.

As they wait their turn, Kirk and McCoy exchange stories of their past carnival experiences, their voices filled with laughter and nostalgia. Spock listens intently, his curiosity growing with each anecdote. Yagi's family, watching the exchange with fondness, shares tales of Andorian festivals and the thrills they too seek out. Thrall, in particular, speaks of a gravity-defying sport played on the ice fields of Andoria, drawing parallels to Kirk's description of the roller coaster.

The moment of truth arrives as they climb into the sleek, space-themed seats of the 'Celestial Whirlwind'. The roller coaster's safety harnesses click into place, and the anticipation builds as the ride lurches forward, climbing the initial ascent with a steady, almost serene rhythm. Kirk, his eyes gleaming with excitement, gives a thumbs up to Spock, who regards the experience with his usual stoicism, though the faint flutter of his eyelids betrays his nerves.

As the roller coaster reaches its peak and pauses for a brief, heart-stopping moment, Spock's voice is eerily calm. "Captain, this does indeed appear to be a... most illogical yet fascinating endeavor." He glances at Kirk, who grins back at him.

McCoy, his arms folded tightly across his chest, mutters under his breath. "Remind me why I let you talk me into these things, Jim," he says, though the twitch of his lips suggests he's not entirely displeased with the situation.

The roller coaster releases its hold, plummeting down the first drop with a roar. Kirk's laughter echoes through the night as the wind rushes past them, and even Spock's stoic façade cracks as he experiences the rush of adrenaline that comes with the freefall. The coaster twists and turns, looping through the sky in a dizzying display of engineering.

As the ride comes to a halt, the group disembarks, their faces a mix of exhilaration and relief. Kirk is the first to stand, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "How was that, Bones?" he asks, extending a hand to help McCoy up.

McCoy takes Kirk's hand, his knees slightly wobbly as he steps onto solid ground. "Well," he says, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, "I've had better days in sickbay, but I'll admit, that was... something." He shakes his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. "I think I'll stick to my quiet research and a good cup of tea after that."

Kirk chuckles at McCoy's reaction and then turns to Spock, his hand still outstretched. "And what about you, Spock?" he asks, a twinkle in his eye. "Did you find the illogical thrill of the 'Celestial Whirlwind' as fascinating as you thought you would?"

Spock rises gracefully, his demeanor unruffled despite the roller coaster's tumultuous ride. "It was... enlightening," he says, his voice measured. "The sensation of weightlessness and the subsequent reassertion of gravity did provide an interesting insight into the human psyche's desire for excitement and the physiological response to fear." He glances at McCoy. "Though I must admit, Doctor, your reaction was quite... entertaining."

The narrator confirms that Spock did indeed take Captain Kirk's hand after the exhilarating ride on the 'Celestial Whirlwind'. This small, yet significant act of camaraderie between the Vulcan and the human captain highlights the depth of their friendship and the shared experiences that transcend their species' differences. Despite Spock's initial skepticism, he had embraced the thrill of the moment, offering a glimpse of his capacity for enjoyment outside his usual stoic demeanor.

As Spock's hand meets Kirk's, a sudden and unexpected rush of warmth flows through their fingers. The telepathic bond they formed on the planet of the artifact, though weakened by distance and time, still lingers between them. Spock's eyebrows furrow slightly as he feels a flutter of Kirk's emotions - the residue of fear and excitement from the roller coaster ride. This unanticipated connection surprises him, serving as a subtle reminder of the intertwined destinies they share.

Kirk, ever the intuitive leader, senses something peculiar through the telepathic connection that lingers faintly between them from their earlier adventure. As he looks into Spock's eyes, he can almost feel the rush of adrenaline that had accompanied their harrowing escape from the ancient trap. The shared experience had left an indelible mark on their bond, allowing Kirk to pick up on the faintest whispers of his first officer's thoughts and feelings, even in the midst of the carnival's chaos.

At this moment, Kirk senses in Spock's mind a peculiar blend of emotions. Beneath the Vulcan's usual stoicism, there's a faint spark of excitement from the novel experience, a hint of curiosity about the human condition, and a touch of amusement at McCoy's visceral reaction. But what truly stands out is the deep-rooted affection and camaraderie that Spock feels for his human friends, a testament to the unbreakable bonds forged through their shared trials and tribulations. It's a poignant reminder of their friendship and the diverse tapestry of their intergalactic family.

McCoy shakes his head, a bemused smile playing on his lips as he watches Kirk and Spock's interaction. "I ain't no side-show act, Spock," he says, his Southern drawl thick with good-natured sarcasm. "But I'll be your guinea pig for science if it means I get to see that look on your face again. It's like watching a Vulcan loosen up and have a little fun, something I thought I'd never live to see!" He chuckles, patting his chest. "My heart can't take much more of this roller coaster life, but I reckon it's worth it for moments like these."

Spock regards McCoy with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, his usual stoicism slipping slightly. "On the contrary, Doctor," he says, his voice carrying a hint of warmth. "You are not merely an 'attraction'. You are an embodiment of the very essence of humanity that I find so... fascinating." He pauses, his gaze lingering on McCoy's face. "And if the expressions of shock and exhilaration on your face amused me, imagine the intriguing study it would make for a Vulcan ethnologist. But, I must admit, the bond we share through our past experiences has indeed made this moment... quite pleasurable." Inside, his thoughts swirl with a secret appreciation for McCoy's undeniable allure, an emotion he meticulously keeps guarded behind the veil of logic.

Kirk's gaze darts between Spock and McCoy, a knowing smile playing on his lips. He can feel the unspoken tension in the air, the telepathic echoes of Spock's thoughts revealing a depth of emotion that the Vulcan rarely shows. "Well," Kirk says, his voice low and gentle, "it seems like the 'Celestial Whirlwind' wasn't the only thing that got your heart racing, Spock." He squeezes McCoy's shoulder reassuringly, his eyes filled with understanding. "Bones, you're the star of the show here, whether you know it or not." The captain's words hold a warmth that acknowledges the complexities of their friendship and the unspoken feelings that lie just beneath the surface of their camaraderie. The connection between Kirk and Spock, now a silent and unspoken secret shared between them, adds a new dimension to their relationship, a bond that goes beyond friendship and into the realms of love and acceptance.

McCoy's smile falters for a moment as he catches the look in Kirk's eyes, the weight of the unspoken understanding between them heavy. He clears his throat, his cheeks reddening slightly. "Now, now, you two," he says, trying to lighten the mood. "Let's not get too sentimental at a carnival. There's still the 'Galactic Gravity Whirl' to conquer!" He slaps his hands together, trying to shake off the sudden seriousness that had descended upon them. "And if I'm going to get my heart racing again, it's going to be on my own terms!"

Spock nods, his gaze shifting to McCoy, his expression unreadable. "Indeed, Doctor," he says, his voice a calm counterpoint to the emotions swirling around them. "The 'Galactic Gravity Whirl' does seem to be an appropriate next challenge." He turns to Kirk, the warmth from their earlier connection still present in his eyes. "Though I suspect, Captain, that our experiences today have provided us with more than mere amusement. They have illustrated the value of embracing the illogical aspects of life and the profound connections that arise from shared experiences."

With the conversation turning towards their next adventure, the trio, along with Yagi and Thrall, navigate through the bustling carnival-goers and make their way towards the 'Galactic Gravity Whirl'. This ride, a twirling, gravity-defying wonder, beckons them with its hypnotic lights and the promise of an out-of-this-world experience. The line for the attraction stretches before them, a tapestry of eager faces from across the galaxy, each waiting for their turn to be thrown into a whirlwind of sensations. As they queue up, the chatter of various languages and species fills the air, a testament to the universal appeal of the thrill and camaraderie found in such simple pleasures.

The 'Galactic Gravity Whirl' is a sophisticated piece of technology, designed to simulate the unique gravitational fields of various planets across the Federation. As they wait, Kirk's curiosity piqued, he asks the carnival attendant about the ride's mechanics. The attendant, a friendly Tellarite with a penchant for dramatic flair, explains that the ride employs a combination of holodeck tech and advanced inertial dampeners to create an authentic experience. "You'll feel the crushing weight of a gas giant," he says, "the floaty grace of a low-gravity moon, and the heart-stopping plunge of a planet with a wonky gravitational field!" His words paint a picture of a journey through the cosmos, all wrapped up in the safety of a carnival ride. The group exchanges glances, their excitement palpable as they anticipate the interstellar odyssey that awaits them.

Finally, the moment arrives, and they step into the sleek pods of the 'Galactic Gravity Whirl'. The safety harnesses tighten around them, a gentle reminder of the forces they are about to experience. The pods begin to spin, slowly at first, and then gradually picking up speed as the gravitational fields shift. The world around them starts to blur into a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes, the music swelling to match the increasing intensity of the ride. Kirk, McCoy, and Spock all lean into the centrifugal force, their bodies adapting to the ever-changing gravity.

As the pods spin faster, and the gravitational fields shift more dramatically, McCoy starts to feel a bit queasy. His stomach lurches, and he grips the safety bar tighter. "Jim, I think... I think I might be in over my head here," he says, his voice strained. The usually unflappable doctor is clearly struggling with the sudden onset of motion sickness, his complexion turning a shade paler. Despite his discomfort, he tries to keep his humor, flashing a weak smile at Kirk. "I'm not sure how your ancestors enjoyed these contraptions, but I'm feeling a bit like I've been through a transporter malfunction!"

Spock's eyes are closed, his body at peace with the shifting forces. He opens them to find Kirk watching him with a mix of concern and amusement. "Are you quite all right, Doctor?" Spock asks, his voice calm and steady amidst the chaos. "Humans often find the thrill of these experiences... intoxicating. It appears to be having an adverse effect on you."

McCoy's laugh is a bit forced, but he nods. "Damn straight, Spock," he says, the words coming out in a huff as the pods whirl around. "I've seen enough stars in my life without needing to chase them on a carousel!" Despite his discomfort, he grits his teeth and holds on, not wanting to miss out on the adventure. The Vulcan's inquiry about human preferences for thrills brings a thought to his mind. "But you know what? Maybe there's something to this after all." He glances at Kirk, who is still grinning like a kid in a candy store. "This... this is what keeps us coming back for more, isn't it?"

Kirk's eyes meet McCoy's, and his smile widens. "You got that right, Bones," he shouts over the din of the ride. "Life's about the thrills, the chills, and the people you share them with!" His gaze shifts to Spock, a silent acknowledgment of their shared history and the unspoken depth of their friendship. "And we've got enough of those to last us a lifetime!"

The 'Galactic Gravity Whirl' comes to a smooth halt, the pods gradually decelerating until they come to a complete stop. The safety bars release with a hiss, and Kirk is the first to stand, reaching out to help McCoy, whose legs are wobblier than a newborn foal's. Spock's hand is firm and steady as he assists McCoy, his touch gentle despite the Vulcan's usual detachment.

As McCoy's trembling hand meets Spock's, the same curious connection that had occurred before the roller coaster happens again. This time, it's Spock's emotions that flood McCoy's senses - a blend of curiosity, the thrill of the experience, and an underlying concern for his human companions. Spock's grip tightens almost imperceptibly, and his eyes widen slightly as he feels the doctor's unease. It's a moment of profound realization for both of them, a silent revelation that their bond has grown to include a telepathic link.

"I think I've had enough of the cosmic thrill-seeking for one day," McCoy says, his voice a bit shaky as he steps out of the pod. He takes a deep breath of the cool night air, his eyes searching for a place to sit. "But, I'll admit, it's been quite the... adventure." He looks at Kirk and Spock, his expression a mix of amazement and trepidation.

The next stop on the evening's itinerary is the 'Shakespearean Sonnet Sphere', a holographic exhibit that allows visitors to immerse themselves in the timeless poetry and drama of Earth's most revered playwright. The group heads towards the dimly lit dome, the soft murmur of sonnets and soliloquies emanating from within. Kirk, ever the enthusiast for Earth's cultural heritage, leads the way, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

As the group pauses outside the 'Shakespearean Sonnet Sphere', Kirk notices McCoy's pallor and suggests he sit down on a nearby bench. "Take a moment to catch your breath, Bones," Kirk says with a smile. "Spock and I will grab some refreshments." He claps McCoy on the back before turning to Spock. "You're with me, Mr. Spock. We've got a mission to get the good doctor something to settle his stomach."

Spock nods, his eyes flicking to McCoy for a brief moment before following Kirk. Inside the sphere, the air is cool and scented with the faint aroma of fresh flowers and parchment. Holographic figures dressed in Elizabethan attire recite sonnets and scenes from the Bard's plays, their voices resonating with the power of timeless words. Kirk moves through the exhibit with an ease that belies his alien surroundings, pausing here and there to listen intently, his eyes closed, as if savoring the verses.

Kirk leans against a faux-stone pillar, watching the sonnet performers with a thoughtful expression. He turns to Spock, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "So, Spock," he says casually, "you've got quite the poker face, but I've noticed something different about you tonight." He pauses, allowing the words to hang in the air like a challenge. "You seem... affected by the emotional undertones of our experiences. Is there perhaps a certain someone you're thinking about?" His eyes sparkle with mischief, hinting at the unspoken question of whether Spock has developed a crush amidst the whirlwind of human interactions.

Spock's eyebrow arches slightly at Kirk's observation. "I assure you, Captain," he replies, his voice measured, "my emotional responses are under control. However, the telepathic bond we formed on the planet with the artifact has indeed provided me with a new perspective on human behavior. It is... enlightening to experience such a direct connection to your emotions." He looks away, focusing on a holographic Ophelia floating gracefully in the center of the room, her words of love and madness echoing through the chamber.

After a moment of contemplation, Spock's gaze drifts back to McCoy, who is now seated on the bench outside the sphere, his eyes closed as he takes deep, steadying breaths. "I am thinking of Dr. McCoy," he admits, his voice softer than usual. "The bond we share has made me aware of his distress. The illogical nature of human emotions can be quite... disconcerting, yet I find myself concerned for his well-being. His current condition is not... optimal." The admission of his concern is a rare moment of vulnerability for the Vulcan, revealing the depth of his empathy despite his species' reputation for detachment.

Kirk grins at Spock's response, knowing full well that he's hit a nerve. "That's who I mean, Spock," he says, his voice filled with the warmth of shared experience. "It's not just about poker faces and crushes, though I'm sure Bones would love to be the center of your universe." He winks at the Vulcan, who, despite his stoicism, can't help but roll his eyes. "But seeing you care, really care, about us... it's what makes us all family." Kirk's words hang in the air, the unspoken truth resonating between them. The friendship between Kirk, McCoy, and Spock has always been the heart of the Enterprise, and this newfound telepathic link only serves to strengthen it further.

Upon racing the front of the line, the vendor inside the Shakespearean Sonnet Sphere presents them with a tray of steaming beverages and a selection of soothing, ginger-infused snacks known to combat motion sickness. The vendor, a friendly Betazoid with a knowing smile, nods in understanding as Kirk explains McCoy's condition. She assures them that these refreshments are a popular choice among those who have overindulged in the carnival's thrills. Kirk and Spock carry the tray outside, where McCoy sits, looking a bit greener around the gills. The doctor's eyes light up at the sight of the ginger concoction, and he takes a grateful sip, the warmth spreading through him like a balm to his tumultuous stomach.

Spock approaches McCoy with a measured gait, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the nearby lights. He subtly extends his hand, brushing his fingertips against McCoy's wrist, using their telepathic bond to gauge the doctor's condition. The brief touch is unnoticed by the bustling crowd, but the connection it creates is profound. Through their shared link, Spock feels the doctor's relief as the ginger begins to take effect, and the nausea subsides. "Your body is readjusting to the standard gravity," he states, his voice a soothing balm in the noisy carnival atmosphere. "Your discomfort will soon pass." The concern in his voice is genuine, a rare glimpse into the depth of his affection for his human companions.

McCoy looks up at Spock, his eyes misty with gratitude. "Thanks, Spock," he murmurs, taking another sip of the ginger beverage. "I don't know what I'd do without you two." He glances at Kirk, who is chuckling at the sight of McCoy's distress. "And don't you start," he adds, though the threat lacks its usual bite. The bond between the three of them has grown stronger with each shared experience, and the doctor is acutely aware of the silent support Spock has provided during their more... illogical escapades.

They decide to sit and watch some Shakespeare inside the Sphere. The dimly lit chamber is a tranquil oasis amidst the carnival's clamor, the scent of artificial flowers and aged parchment permeating the air. The holographic figures continue their recitals, their voices weaving a tapestry of love, betrayal, and heroism. Kirk, ever the Shakespeare aficionado, selects a spot where they can comfortably observe the performances. The benches are padded with a soft, velvety material that seems to absorb the noise of the outside world, allowing the timeless words to resonate within the dome.

Yagi and Thrall, the Andorians, exchange puzzled glances as they enter the Shakespearean Sonnet Sphere. Their antennae twitch slightly as they try to make sense of the archaic language and dramatic gestures of the holographic figures. They are unfamiliar with the Earth playwright's works, their own cultural heritage rich with epic tales of valor and honor, but devoid of such complex human emotions. They watch intently, their curiosity piqued by this alien art form.

Inside the sphere, Kirk selects a spot where they can comfortably observe the performances. He leans back, his eyes shining with appreciation as he takes in the sonnets. The words of Shakespeare have always had a profound effect on him, and the holographic display is no less mesmerizing than any live performance he's seen. He glances at McCoy, noticing the doctor's gaze is not on the stage but rather on the ginger beverage in his hand. "You know, Bones," Kirk says, his voice low and filled with mirth, "Shakespeare himself might have had a few words about the fickleness of gravity's sweet embrace."

McCoy snorts, his color slowly returning. "I'd wager he'd have a sonnet or two about it," he replies, raising his cup in a toast. "To gravity, may it always keep our feet firmly planted on the ground." The three of them laugh, the tension of their recent mission momentarily forgotten in the embrace of friendship and shared experiences.

As the final sonnet fades away, Kirk turns to the group, his gaze thoughtful. "Alright, folks," he says, the warmth of the moment lingering in his voice, "now that we've had our dose of culture and thrills, how about we explore something a bit more... grounded?" He suggests a museum that's been gaining a lot of buzz around the carnival. It's an interstellar exhibition, showcasing the history and artifacts of various species within the Federation. The idea is met with nods of agreement, and they make their way out of the Sphere into the cool night air, the cacophony of the carnival once again enveloping them.

The interstellar museum is a stark contrast to the vibrant colors and lights of the carnival. The building is a sleek monolith, its surface a shifting tapestry of starlit galaxies. As they enter, the coolness of the air conditioning is a welcome reprieve from the warm evening. The hushed whispers of the crowd give way to the echoes of footsteps on the gleaming floors. Each exhibit tells a story of triumph and discovery, of ancient civilizations and modern marvels. Kirk leads the way, his hand hovering over the interactive displays with a child-like wonder.

Spock's gaze lingers on a particularly intricate Vulcan artifact, a relic from the time of Surak. It's a simple piece of metal, etched with ancient symbols that speak of peace and logic. He feels a pang of homesickness, a rare emotion for a Vulcan. "This is... quite fascinating," he says, his voice barely above a murmur. "It is a piece of our shared history, Captain." He looks up at Kirk, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the display lights. "I find myself... moved by these relics of our past."

McCoy notices the wistfulness in Spock's gaze and approaches his friend, his hand resting gently on the Vulcan's shoulder. "You feeling a bit of the old homesickness, Spock?" he asks, his Southern drawl a comforting balm amidst the alien ambiance. "Or is it more like ancestral longing?"

As McCoy speaks, his hand moves slightly, and his index finger accidentally brushes against the bare skin of Spock's neck, where his uniform collar opens slightly. The contact is brief, but it's enough. A sudden rush of emotions floods through them, a torrent of feelings that neither expects. Spock feels the warmth of McCoy's concern, the comfort of their friendship, and the weight of their shared experiences. In return, McCoy is inundated with Spock's complex blend of longing and stoicism, the ever-present undercurrent of his Vulcan companion's deep-rooted emotions. The bond formed by the alien artifact flares to life again, and for a moment, the two men are linked in a way that transcends words.

McCoy's eyes widen as he feels the intensity of Spock's emotions. "Well, I'll be," he says, his voice filled with genuine surprise. "You really are homesick. I had no idea it could hit you like that." His hand stays on Spock's shoulder, offering silent support as the Vulcan navigates this uncharted emotional territory. "You know, Spock, sometimes it's okay to miss where you come from. It's part of what makes us human." He takes a sip from his ginger beverage, his gaze never leaving the Vulcan's. "Or, in your case, what makes you... well, you." He smiles warmly, the lines around his eyes crinkling with affection.

Spock nods, his eyes closing briefly as he processes the wave of feelings. "Indeed, Dr. McCoy," he says, his voice a little rougher than usual. "The bond has provided me with a new perspective on the human condition. It is... illogical, yet surprisingly comforting." He opens his eyes to meet McCoy's gaze, his own eyes filled with a warmth that belies his stoic exterior. "I am grateful for your understanding." He turns back to the Vulcan artifact, his hand reaching out to trace the ancient symbols. "This... this is a part of me that I often struggle to reconcile with my duties here."

The group moves through the museum, each exhibit triggering a new round of discussion and discovery. Yagi and Thrall are particularly fascinated by the display of Andorian battle armor, their antennae twitching with excitement as they examine the intricate designs. Kirk, ever the historian, shares tales of Earth's past, his hands animated as he speaks of ancient battles and great leaders. Spock is drawn to the melodic chime of an ancient Tellarite instrument.

The Tellarite instrument, a complex array of crystalline tubes that resonate with the touch of the player's fingers, calls out to Spock. He steps closer, his curiosity piqued by the alien artifact. The instrument is mounted on a pedestal, surrounded by a faint force field that allows for safe interaction. Spock raises his hand, his fingertips hovering over the crystalline surface. With a deep breath, he gently touches the tubes, his Vulcan mind focusing on the patterns of sound and vibration. The crystals sing under his touch, their harmonious notes blending with the low hum of the museum's ambient soundtrack. The display's interactivity is not just for show; it's a means of preserving and sharing the cultural heritage of the Federation's diverse species.

McCoy watches Spock with a hint of amusement. "I never knew you had a musical side, Spock," he teases, his voice filled with warmth. "Maybe you can serenade us on the ship next time we're in a quiet sector."

Spock glances over his shoulder at McCoy, his lips quirking into a small smile. "I assure you, Dr. McCoy, my musical talents are... negligible. However, the principles behind the creation of such an instrument are quite fascinating." He plays a few more notes, the melody weaving through the air like a delicate web. "The Tellarites are known for their acoustic engineering. This device likely serves a dual purpose as a form of communication and a means of meditation."

McCoy's eyes narrow slightly as he considers Spock's words. "Negligible or not, it's something we all have, Spock. A part of us that's just for enjoyment, not for any grand purpose or logical reasoning. And I'd say that's not so negligible, considering the kind of work we do." He pauses, his gaze lingering on the crystalline tubes. "Besides, I've seen you tap your fingers on the bridge console to the tune of Earth jazz. You might just have a hidden talent there."

Spock's eyebrow rises at McCoy's observation. "While I may not possess the finesse of a professional musician, I do engage in the practice of playing the Vulcan lute during my private moments of contemplation," he admits. "The discipline of creating music aligns with the Vulcan philosophy of IDIC - Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations. It allows me to appreciate the harmony within the chaos of existence." He pauses, his hand hovering over the Tellarite instrument. "Though the lute is quite different from this, the principles of resonance and vibration are universal."

Intrigued by the challenge, Spock's hand moves away from the random melody he'd been playing and begins to shape a more deliberate pattern on the crystalline tubes. His fingers dance over the surface, each touch calculated and precise. The notes that emerge are unfamiliar to the human ear, yet carry a haunting beauty that seems to echo the very essence of Vulcan culture. The song is ancient, a melody passed down through generations of his people, a lullaby that once soothed the minds of young Vulcans in the harsh deserts of their homeworld. The melody rises and falls, a testament to the stoic nature of the Vulcans and their quest for inner peace amidst the tumult of emotions.

The museum's visitors, a mix of various species, pause in their conversations, drawn to the alien yet eerily familiar sound. A few Andorians nod in approval, recognizing the discipline and focus required to play such an intricate piece. The humans exchange glances, surprised by the depth of emotion they're witnessing from a Vulcan. Kirk watches with a proud smile, while McCoy's eyes shine with newfound respect for his friend.

McCoy leans against the pedestal, his expression a mix of admiration and wonder. "Spock, that's... beautiful," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "I had no idea you had that in you." He takes another sip of his ginger beverage, the warmth of the liquid mirroring the warmth in his heart. "I guess we all have our hidden talents."

Spock's eyes open, and he turns to face McCoy, his hand hovering over the instrument's last chord. "The performance, Dr. McCoy, was indeed flawed," he says, his tone measured yet carrying a hint of self-deprecation. "But the act of sharing it with you is a reminder that even within the rigid confines of logic and duty, there is room for the exploration of the soul." He nods towards the group, his gaze encompassing Kirk, Yagi, and Thrall. "It is a testament to the unity we have forged on this vessel, that we may find common ground in the unlikeliest of places."

As the final notes of the Vulcan melody dissipate into the museum's atmosphere, Spock regards McCoy with a thoughtful gaze. "Speaking of hidden talents, Doctor," he says, his voice a soft challenge. "What might yours be, aside from your unparalleled medical expertise?" The question hangs in the air, a subtle invitation to share a piece of themselves beyond their professional roles.

McCoy chuckles, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, Spock," he drawls, "you might be surprised to know that I've got a few tricks up my sleeve too." He steps away from the Tellarite instrument and scans the nearby exhibits. His eyes land on a replica of an ancient Earth medical bay. "Back in the day, we humans had our own way of soothing the soul," he says, gesturing to the display. "Some of us still do." He winks at Kirk, who rolls his eyes playfully. "How about I show you all a little bit of Southern charm?"

McCoy leads the group to the replica medical bay, his stride filled with a newfound confidence. He picks up a wooden flute, a simple instrument that seems out of place amidst the gleaming technology. With a few practiced breaths, he begins to play a lilting tune, one that speaks of open fields and lazy afternoons. The music is a stark contrast to the Vulcan melody, yet it resonates with the same depth of emotion. The bond between them flares once more, allowing Spock to feel the warmth of McCoy's memories, the love for his lost family, and the peace he finds in music.

Meanwhile, as McCoy plays his flute, he senses the depth of Spock's emotions for him. It's a profound realization, a complex web of friendship, respect, and a hint of something more that neither of them can quite define. His music becomes a silent conversation, a way to express the feelings that words can't quite capture. The bond they share, forged in the crucible of their missions and deepened by the alien artifact, has transformed into something beautifully intimate. As the melody reaches its crescendo, McCoy feels a rush of warmth and belonging, understanding that, despite their differences, they're bound by a connection that transcends species and rank. He plays on, the music a declaration of their friendship, strong and enduring as the stars themselves.

Spock, drawn by the haunting melody of the Tellarite instrument, approaches it once more. His long, elegant fingers hover above the crystalline tubes, considering the pattern of vibrations that would harmonize with McCoy's flute. With a nod of respect to his friend, he begins to play, his Vulcan logic weaving in and out of the human's soulful tune. The music becomes a conversation, a dance of intertwining notes that echo through the museum. The Tellarite crystals resonate with the flute's sweet sound, creating a symphony of unity. The bond between them, now a tangible force, seems to resonate with the very fabric of the universe. Spock's eyes never leave McCoy's as they play together, a silent acknowledgment of the shared moments that have shaped their friendship. Kirk and the others watch in amazement, feeling the depth of their connection as the music fills the air, a testament to the infinite diversity and infinite combinations that make up their lives aboard the Enterprise.

As the last notes of their impromptu duet fade away, McCoy lowers his flute, his eyes misty with unshed tears. "Spock," he says, his voice thick with emotion, "that was... something else." He clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. "I think we just gave these museum-goers quite the show, don't you?" He glances around at the small crowd that has gathered, their expressions a mix of awe and confusion. "But, if we're going to keep exploring, we should probably get going before we're asked to leave for disturbing the peace." He chuckles, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Or before I start serenading you all with some good ol' Southern bluegrass."

Spock nods thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving McCoy's. "I would find that quite enjoyable, Dr. McCoy," he says, his voice steady despite the emotional undertones. "Your willingness to share such a personal aspect of your culture is appreciated and intriguing." He steps away from the Tellarite instrument, his hand lingering on the last crystal he'd played. "However, we should indeed continue our exploration. The museum has much to offer, and our time here is limited." He glances at Kirk, a question in his gaze. "Captain, where shall we proceed?"

Kirk, his own eyes reflecting the poignancy of the music, claps his hands together. "I couldn't agree more, gentlemen," he says, his smile wide and genuine. "Let's move on to the next exhibit." He turns to the group, his eyes alight with excitement. "I've heard there's a display on the early days of interstellar travel. I've always had a soft spot for those old ships. They had guts, you know?" He leads the way, his stride brisk, the emotional moment shared between McCoy and Spock lingering in the air like a gentle echo of their music.

The group makes their way to the exhibit on early space travel, the holographic displays bringing to life the tales of daring explorers who first ventured beyond the stars. Kirk's voice fills the space as he recounts the stories of Earth's pioneers, his passion for history infectious. Thrall and Yagi listen intently, their curiosity piqued by the tales of humanity's early forays into the cosmos. Spock, his gaze lingering on an ancient Vulcan ship model, seems lost in thought, his mind racing with the parallels between the past and their own intergalactic journey.

As Kirk finishes his narrative, the group finds themselves standing before a majestic lineup of ancient spacecraft, each one a testament to the innovation and courage of its creators. The vessels are displayed in a chronological order, showcasing the evolution of space travel from Earth's first tentative steps to the sleek and powerful starships of the Federation. Just adjacent to this nostalgic array, an unexpected sight catches their attention: a car exhibit. The gleaming metal bodies and the rich scent of polished chrome stand out starkly against the backdrop of stars and vessels, a reminder of humanity's terrestrial roots.

Kirk's eyes light up at the sight of the vintage cars. "Look at these beauties!" he exclaims, his voice carrying the enthusiasm of a child in a candy store. He strides over to a cherry-red 1968 Mustang, his hand reaching out to stroke the metallic finish. "Now, this," he says with a wistful smile, "this is a piece of Earth's history I can get behind the wheel of."

McCoy rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "You and your fast cars, Kirk," he says, though the fondness in his voice is unmistakable. "But I have to admit, there's something charming about them." He approaches a 1957 Chevy Bel Air, its chrome gleaming under the museum lights. "This reminds me of my daddy's old car," he murmurs, his Southern drawl thickening with nostalgia.

Spock observes the vehicles with a detached curiosity, his gaze lingering on the complexities of their design. "Fascinating," he says, "how your species managed to achieve such rapid advancement in such a short period of time." He steps closer to Kirk, his eyes on the Mustang. "The emotional connection to these... 'beauties', as you call them, is intriguing. They are, after all, merely transportation devices."

Kirk grins at McCoy's teasing and Spock's observation. "Ah, but they're more than that, aren't they, Bones?" He opens the Mustang's door with a creak, sliding into the driver's seat. "They're symbols of freedom, of the open road, and the thrill of discovery." He pats the steering wheel affectionately. "And they sure don't make 'em like this anymore."

McCoy steps closer to Kirk, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "You planning on taking her for a spin, Jim?" he asks, the question laced with a hint of nostalgia and a touch of concern for the captain's penchant for speed. "Because I don't know if I can handle the thrill of a starship chase through the streets of a museum."

The group shares a laugh, the tension of their recent adventures easing for a moment. Kirk's hand lingers on the gearshift before he climbs out of the car. "Not today, Bones," he says with a sigh, his eyes still on the Mustang. "But maybe one day, we'll get the chance to take a real joyride together."

The bond between Kirk and McCoy is palpable as they move through the exhibit, reminiscing about Earth's past. Spock, ever the observer, watches the exchange with a gentle smile, his curiosity about human emotion growing. Yagi and Thrall exchange glances, their own friendship deepening as they learn from the shared experiences of their human and Vulcan comrades.

McCoy turns around, catching Spock's smile, which is a rare sight indeed. His own smile widens, the corners of his eyes crinkling with warmth. "You know, Spock," he says, his voice tinged with affection, "you might find it illogical, but there's just something about these old cars that speaks to the human spirit. They're not just machines, they're... dreams on wheels." He steps away from the Chevy, his gaze lingering on the vehicles. "They represent a time when we didn't know what was out there, but we were eager to find out."

Spock nods thoughtfully. "The concept of a 'dream on wheels' is indeed illogical when analyzed," he says, his tone teasing. "But I concede that the emotional resonance is... intriguing." He glances over at Kirk, who's still admiring the Mustang. "It appears that your species finds comfort in the tangible reminders of your past."

"Comfort, yes," McCoy agrees, his eyes misting over slightly. "But also a reminder of how far we've come. And how much further we have to go." He sighs, the weight of his words hanging in the air. "But for now, let's keep moving. I'm sure there's more to see in this place that'll tickle our fancy."

The group moves on to the ice-skating rink, a frozen oasis amidst the warmth of the museum. The sharp scent of fresh ice fills the air, and the sound of blades slicing through the surface echoes around them. Kirk's eyes light up at the sight of the rink, and he grabs a pair of skates with the enthusiasm of a child. "Come on, everyone," he says, grinning. "Let's see if we've still got our balance after all these years in space."

Spock arches an eyebrow at the captain's challenge, his curiosity piqued. "Ice skating," he murmurs, taking a moment to process the concept. "An ancient Terran activity, designed to traverse frozen bodies of water for transportation and later adopted for recreation." He accepts a pair of skates from a museum attendant, his grip firm and precise. "I shall endeavor to participate."

They all bundle up, with Kirk wrapping a scarf around his neck and pulling on a pair of gloves, McCoy tugging on a set of earmuffs that make him look more like a quirky professor than a starship doctor, and even Spock donning a pair of Vulcan-designed mittens that mimic the color of his uniform. Yagi and Thrall exchange amused glances as they watch their human counterparts prepare for the cold, each adjusting to the alien concept of terrestrial winter gear with varying degrees of grace.

Spock steps onto the ice with a calculated grace, his booted feet sliding slightly as he adjusts to the unfamiliar surface. His Vulcan physique, so adept at navigating the corridors of the Enterprise, seems almost out of place in this frozen arena. His eyes narrow in concentration as he tries to mimic the fluid movements of the skaters around him. But as the cold bites at his cheeks and the wind whips through the rink, his footing falters. His arms flail for a brief moment as he feels the inevitable pull of gravity, his body tilting towards the icy ground.

McCoy, ever the Southern gentleman, watches Spock's struggle with a blend of amusement and concern. "Careful there, Spock," he calls out, his drawl thick with mirth. "You're supposed to glide, not fly." He skates over, extending a hand to help the Vulcan regain his balance. "Let me show you how it's done."

As McCoy reaches out to Spock, their eyes meet, and something unspoken passes between them. With a nod of understanding, Spock takes McCoy's offered hand, allowing the doctor to guide him around the rink. Their movements are tentative at first, Spock's stiffness slowly giving way to the rhythm of McCoy's instructions. The human's gentle grip is surprisingly warm against the Vulcan's cold hand, a stark contrast to the chilly air surrounding them. McCoy's words of guidance and encouragement are punctuated by the steady beat of their blades cutting through the ice. Their shared laughter fills the rink, the sound mingling with the whispers of the wind and the distant chime of the museum's exhibits.

Gradually, Spock's steps become more sure, his arms relaxing at his sides. His eyes, usually so guarded, show a flicker of something softer, something that could almost be mistaken for joy. "This is... an interesting experience," he admits, his voice tinged with the barest hint of amusement.

McCoy chuckles, his eyes never leaving Spock's as they glide along the ice. "Jim's always been one for showmanship," he says, nodding in Kirk's direction. The captain, ever the show-off, is weaving in and out of the other skaters with the grace of a natural. "But I've got to admit, there's something about watching him that just makes my heart swell with pride." He winks at Spock, his cheeks red from the cold or perhaps something else. "He's a hell of a captain, and an even better friend."

As McCoy speaks, Spock's grip on his hand tightens ever so slightly, the warmth of his affection seeping through the barrier of their gloves. He's grateful for the mittens that prevent a true skin-to-skin connection, for if McCoy felt the swell of his emotions, he would realize that the doctor's heart isn't the only one affected by Kirk's antics. Spock's own heart feels a pang of despair as he registers the unmistakable affection in McCoy's voice when he speaks of the captain. It's clear that McCoy's loyalties and feelings are deeply entwined with Kirk, and Spock can't help but feel a twinge of sadness, knowing that his own bond with McCoy may never be the same.

Kirk, catching the exchange between his two closest friends, slows his pace and approaches the duo. "What's this?" he asks, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "McCoy, are you giving Spock a lesson in the art of Southern charm?" He skates around them, his movements fluid and graceful despite his teasing tone. "Or maybe you're just showing him how to do the Hokey Pokey?"

Kirk's eyes twinkle with mischief as he suggests the dance. "Come on, you two," he says, holding out a hand to each of them. "Naturally, this comment necessitates a demonstration of the Hokey Pokey. You put your right foot in, you put your right foot out, you put your right foot in, and you shake it all about." He starts the dance, his laughter echoing through the rink.

Spock's eyebrow quirks at Kirk's playfulness, his gaze flicking from McCoy to the captain. With a small sigh, he relents, his movements a study in controlled precision as he joins in the dance, his arms and legs moving in time with the human tune. "I shall endeavor to 'shake it all about'," he says dryly, his own smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

McCoy rolls his eyes but can't help the laugh that bubbles out as he joins in, his own steps a bit more wobbly than Kirk's. "You're a bad influence, Jim," he says, though his grin belies any real irritation. He glances over at Spock, the sight of the Vulcan participating in such a whimsical dance bringing warmth to his heart. "But I guess even Vulcans need to let loose every once in a blue moon."

Spock pauses mid-dance, his eyebrow arching as he corrects McCoy. "Doctor, it is not currently a blue moon. However, the phrase you are employing is an idiomatic expression indicating a rare or unusual occurrence. The actual astronomical event of a blue moon, which is the second full moon in a single Earth calendar month, does not directly correlate with the concept of 'letting loose'. Nevertheless, I appreciate the sentiment behind your statement and shall continue to engage in this... unique form of human bonding." He resumes the dance, his movements slightly less rigid as he relaxes into the moment.

McCoy chuckles, his cheeks flushing with the cold and his own amusement. "Alright, point taken, Spock," he says, his voice warm despite the chilly air. "But I've got to admit, it's not every day I get to see the two of you cut a rug out here in the cosmos." He throws in a couple of spins, his Southern charm shining through even on the ice.

Spock's gaze lingers on McCoy, his own steps becoming more fluid. "Indeed, there is no actual rug on this ice," he says with a touch of amusement in his voice. "But I must admit, Dr. McCoy, your grace on these primitive skates is quite... human." He nods in approval. "It seems that even in the most illogical of situations, your species finds a way to express joy."

McCoy laughs, his eyes sparkling as he looks at Spock. "Well, now, that's the closest thing to a compliment I've ever heard from you, Spock," he says, his tone teasing. "But I'll take it. Just don't go telling anyone back on the ship that I've got moves like this." He winks, the warmth of his affection for the Vulcan evident in his voice. "I've got a reputation to uphold, after all."

Spock stops his dance for a moment, his eyes meeting McCoy's. "Doctor, your reluctance to reveal your hidden talents is, as you say, 'a crying shame'. The concept of modesty is not foreign to Vulcans, but we do not shy away from sharing our abilities for fear of judgment." He pauses, a hint of challenge in his tone. "I find it unfortunate that you do not feel comfortable displaying your skill in front of others. Perhaps there is more to you than meets the eye."

McCoy's smile falters slightly, his gaze dropping to the ice. "Maybe you're right, Spock," he murmurs, a hint of sadness in his voice. "But some things are best left unsaid, or unseen." He takes a deep breath, steeling himself. "Now, let's get back to this shindig before we miss all the fun." He skates away from Spock, his movements more graceful than ever, as if trying to outrun the conversation.

Kirk notices the shift in McCoy's demeanor, his smile fading. He skates over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Bones," he says gently, "you don't have to hide anything from us. We're all friends here." His eyes dart to Spock, a silent question hanging in the air. "What's going on?"

McCoy shakes his head, forcing a laugh. "It's nothing, Jim," he says, his drawl a bit too thick. "Just feeling a bit... out of place, I guess." He glances around the rink, the joy of the moment fading slightly. "This isn't exactly my element."

Kirk's gaze softens as he looks at McCoy. "You know, Bones, I heard you had quite the experience with the elements back when you were on that crazy mission," he says, his voice low and warm. "Surviving the Trial of the Elements, that's something not everyone can say they've done. You faced the fire, not to mention the air and the water, and you came out on top." He pauses, his hand still resting on McCoy's shoulder. "I don't think you give yourself enough credit. You're made of tougher stuff than you let on."

McCoy's expression relaxes a little at Kirk's words, and he looks up to meet the captain's eyes. "Thanks, Jim," he says, his voice sincere. "But that was different. That was... necessary." He sighs, then shrugs off the momentary sadness. "Let's not dwell on it. After all, we're here to enjoy ourselves." He turns back to the ice, his skates gliding smoothly as he resumes the dance.

Kirk nods, understanding McCoy's reluctance to delve deeper into his feelings. He turns to Spock, who has been quietly observing the exchange. "Spock, I noticed you and Bones had a bit of a tête-à-tête over there. Everything okay?" Kirk asks, his voice a mix of concern and curiosity.

Spock's gaze follows McCoy's movements before returning to Kirk. "The doctor and I were simply discussing the illogical nature of human behavior and the value of humility," he replies, his tone neutral. "It is of no great concern." He tilts his head slightly, considering Kirk. "However, I find it interesting that you use the term 'tête-à-tête', Captain. It implies an intimate or private conversation, which is not typically associated with a public setting such as this."

Kirk chuckles, the sound echoing through the frosty air. "Well, Spock, even in the most public of places, good friends can share a private moment," he says, his eyes twinkling. "But let's not leave our new friends out of the fun." He gestures to Yagi and Thrall, who are watching the dance with bemusement. "Why don't we invite them to join us?"

The Andorian's antennae twitch with excitement as they watches the three officers. "I would be honored to participate in this...Hokey Pokey?" they say, their voice a mix of curiosity and amusement. They steps onto the ice with surprising grace, their antennae swaying with the rhythm of the music.

Spock nods, his own curiosity piqued by the cultural exchange. He approaches Yagi, his skates crunching against the frozen surface. "The Hokey Pokey is a human dance, designed to encourage unity and light-heartedness," he explains, his voice a soothing baritone. "Allow me to demonstrate."

Spock gracefully extends his hand to Yagi, guiding them through the steps with a calm patience that belies his own unfamiliarity with the dance. "You put your right antenna in, you put your right antenna out," he intones, his movements precise and deliberate as he demonstrates the gesture. "You put your right antenna in and you shake it all about."

As the laughter and music fill the air, the group decides that their time at the Cosmic Carnival of Wonders has been sufficiently filled with wonder. They exit the ice rink, their cheeks flushed from the cold and their spirits lifted from the shared camaraderie. The aroma of various interstellar delicacies wafts through the fairgrounds, reminding them of the vast tapestry of life and cuisine the universe has to offer. Kirk, ever the opportunist, suggests they grab some of the Carnival food before they leave. "We've got a transporter ride home, but that doesn't mean we can't enjoy some snacks," he says with a wink.

They meander through the crowded stalls, the vibrant colors and alien sights a stark contrast to the pristine white of the ice rink. The sounds of sizzling meats, bubbling stews, and the distant laughter of children blend into a harmonious cacophony that seems to resonate with the very essence of the Starfleet's mission: to explore, to understand, and to bring together diverse peoples under the banner of peace. Kirk's eyes light up at the sight of a stand selling something that looks suspiciously like cotton candy. "Now, this is more my speed," he says, already reaching for his communicator to order a plate.

McCoy shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips as he watches Kirk's childlike excitement over the sugary treat. "Hold on there, Captain," he calls out. "I've got my heart set on something a bit more... substantial." He looks around the carnival, scanning the various delights. "Ah, I know what I want," he says, his eyes landing on a stall frying up golden spirals of dough. "Some funnel cake. Now, that's a taste of home."

Meanwhile, Yagi and Thrall, the Andorians in their party, are drawn to the scent of something fried and sweet, their antennae twitching with curiosity. They approach a vendor selling corndogs, the smell of the deep-fried dough and the savory aroma of the meat inside piquing their interest. The vendor, a Tellarite with a knowing smile, hands them each one, explaining the Terran delicacy with a series of gestures and grunts that somehow manage to convey the delight of the first bite.

Kirk, noticing the kettle corn vendor, turns to Spock with a mischievous glint in his eye. "You know, Spock, this stuff is the epitome of Earthly indulgence," he says, holding out a warm, sugar-coated kernel. "You really should give it a try."

Spock takes the offered kettle corn with a nod, his curiosity overcoming his Vulcan stoicism. He brings the kernel to his mouth, the sweet and salty flavor exploding on his tongue. His eyebrows rise slightly, and he chews thoughtfully. "It is... an unusual combination of flavors," he says, swallowing. "But I concede that it is not entirely unpleasant."

After considering the unique taste of the kettle corn, Spock approaches the vendor and places an order. "I shall partake in this human delicacy," he says, his voice calm but with a hint of excitement. "One large bag, please." The vendor nods and begins filling a bag with the freshly popped corn, the sound of the kernels hitting the paper a comforting backdrop to the laughter and chatter of the carnival. Spock accepts the bag with a nod of thanks, his eyes never leaving the food as he contemplates the human penchant for such simple yet delightful experiences.

McCoy watches Spock's reaction to the kettle corn with a knowing smile, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Spock, I've got a proposition for you," he says, holding up a piece of funnel cake dripping with powdered sugar. "How about a little interstellar exchange of goodwill?" He waves the cake enticingly. "I'll trade you a bite of this heavenly goodness for a handful of that corn you've got there." His Southern drawl is thick with the promise of a good ol' fashioned barter.

Spock raises an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching upward slightly. "Very well, Doctor," he says, extending the bag towards McCoy. "Your proposal is... illogical, but I am willing to indulge in this cultural exchange." He watches as McCoy eagerly takes a handful of the corn, his eyes lighting up with the same excitement Kirk had shown earlier. Spock takes a bite of the funnel cake, his expression one of focused consideration before he nods in approval. "Your Earth confection is quite... palatable," he admits, his voice holding a hint of surprise.

Spock's cheeks flush, though the darkness of the carnival night hides the telltale sign from his human companions. For a Vulcan, sharing food directly from one's own hand is an act of intimacy, and Dr. McCoy's sudden and unsolicited dive into his kettle corn bag has caught him off-guard. He feels a brief surge of... something akin to embarrassment, but quickly suppresses it. He clears his throat and turns his gaze back to the fried spirals of dough, his mind racing with the implications of such a gesture. It's clear that McCoy sees this as nothing more than a friendly exchange, but for Spock, it's a moment that pierces through the armor of his Vulcan stoicism, leaving him with a peculiar sense of warmth that he can't quite explain. He takes another bite of the funnel cake, his thoughts swirling like the sugar on the fried dough.

McCoy, seemingly oblivious to the significance of his gesture, chews on the kettle corn with gusto. "See, Spock, you can learn to love our strange human ways," he says, wiping a smudge of powdered sugar from his chin. He looks over at Kirk, who's watching the exchange with a knowing smile. "What do you think, Jim?"

Kirk's smile widens as he watches his two friends share the sugary treats. He's the first to speak up, his voice filled with the warmth of shared memories and newfound experiences. "I think it's great, Bones," he says, popping a piece of cotton candy into his mouth. "I've always said that the best way to understand a culture is to share in their food and their laughter." He looks around at the diverse group of aliens and humans that make up the carnival crowd. "And it seems we're all doing a pretty good job of that tonight."

With the night winding down and their bellies full of interstellar treats, the four Starfleet officers decide it's time to head back to the Enterprise. They say their goodbyes to the carnival, the lights and sounds of the games and rides fading behind them as they make their way to the transporter station. Thrall, his eyes shining with a newfound respect for his comrades, chooses to stay behind, eager to return to his farm and share the tales of his adventure with his Andorian family. Kirk, Spock, McCoy, and Yagi step onto the transporter pad, the hum of the machine enveloping them as they dematerialize.

[wenclairfamily]

"A Girl and a Ghost" - A Love Story Starring Enid and Wednesday Addams' Future Daughter!

*Cover Art by: @emeriart

*Author's Note - This chapter is a direct sequel to "Ana's Amazing Adventure". Reading that chapter is essential to understanding today's story.

Wednesday Addams and Enid Sinclair. They were a duo that shouldn't have worked... but they did... and somehow their relationship resulted in marriage. Now, Wednesday and Enid work at their old school: Nevermore Academy as teachers, raising up an entire new generation; including their own twin eighteen year old daughters: Harmony and Ana. Harmony, who carries both of her mother's special abilities, continues to grow and explore the world alongside her newlywed wife: Megan. Ana meanwhile is a different story. *Several weeks ago, Ana became friends with a teenage ghost named Gerard. Gerard had remained on Earth as a ghost to see a friend of his he loved... only for in the end, a special loving spark surprisingly ignited between him and Ana. Today we explore what happens next in their relationship...

"A Girl and a Ghost"

Written by: "Fun But Shy Girl" and "DrDoom2006"

Inside of a large bank, several men were carrying barrels of money bags into a large truck sitting outside the bank. As the men loaded their bags into the truck, the shortest of the men said, "Hey, are you sure we ain't gonna get into any trouble for taking all this money?" The largest man chuckled, and then said, "Come on. The rich have gotten so rich, they don't even know what to do with their money anymore. Plus, the boss needs to raise capital for his big plans. Now lets hop in Freddy's car, while Charlie takes this truck to the warehouse." The large man then turned his head... and suddenly realized several men were laying on the ground around him knocked out. The short man looked scared as he said, "I told you we were gonna get in trouble for taking all this money! I told you!" The large man then took out a taser as he yelled, "Okay, who's trying to play vigilante!? Show yourself!"

Then suddenly swinging down from a hole in the ceiling was Ana Sinclair Addams (wearing a purple sweater, black pants, and a blue feather in her medium length hair). Ana immediately kicked the short man to the ground, and quickly got into a fist fight with the larger man. The large man tried to hit Ana with his taser, but Ana dodged every attack, and soon kicked the taser out of the man's hand. Ana then punched the large man in the chest several times, and then pushed him against the wall. The large man now began to look very scared as he said, "Who are you?" The young woman then moved her face towards the large man, made a big smirk, and with a low gravely voice - Ana excitedly said, "I'm Batman!"

Suddenly Ana heard the sound of foot steps running up some nearby stairs. Ana then pushed the large man down, and then ran up the stairs herself as she yelled, "Like hell you're getting away!" Ana then quickly rushed up the stairs, and soon ran through a door that took her to the roof of the bank. Ana quickly saw a teenage boy with spiky blonde hair running from her as she yelled, "Stop right there!" The teenage boy then turned to look at Ana as he said, "Anarchy Sinclair Addams. So... we meet again... for the last time!" Ana glared forward, realizing who the boy was, as she said, "DJ. I should've known." The teenage boy began to shake a fist as he angerly yelled, "My name is Duncan J Folkwin the 3rd, and this time you won't stop me my long time arch nemesis!" Ana looked confused as she said, "Long time arch nemesis!? Dude, we've like encountered each other only a handful of times. I've honestly spent more daytime hours interacting directly with a dark alternate universe version of my mother than you."

The teenage boy: Duncan began to look more angry as he said, "It matters not! You destroyed my life when you had the closest member of my family leave me!" Ana looked confused as she said, "Are you talking about your cat, Princess Snuggles? I heard you weren't taking enough care of her, and so your parents sent her to go live with your cousin Kaitlyn." Duncan began to look more angry as he took out a sword while yelling, "It matters not! She became the mate to your cat, and so now I am raising funds to create a death laser that will allow me to seek vengeance on both you... and the entire world!" Then Duncan ran at Ana with a sword out. Ana quickly took out her own sword, and quickly began to fight back against Duncan as she said, "Dude. Having your cat taken from you has really screwed with your head! Maybe you should volunteer at an animal shelter or something like that." Then as Duncan swung his sword at Ana, he angerly yelled, "Will you just shut up!?"

However Ana simply dodged and deflected all of Duncan's attacks as she excitedly said, "Or you could take a fun night class in how do people's hair like I did. I even learned how to give myself a cool hair extension with a feather attached to it. Do you see it? My cool lucky feather in my hair makes me look so awesome now! I could even teach you to do the same thing with your hair if you want. What do you say to that?" Then Duncan moved his body fast while yelling, "Arrrrgh!" Ana was just barely able to dodge Duncan's next sword attack at her... however Duncan's sword was able to cut off the feather that was attached to Ana's hair. As the feather hit the ground, Ana looked down at the feather horrified as a smirking Duncan said, "That's what I think of your stupid lucky feather. Now what do you say to that?" Ana suddenly looked very angry as she pointed her sword at Duncan... and then with a deep Spanish accent, Ana loudly proclaimed: "My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my feather. Prepare to die!" Then Ana ran at Duncan with her sword out. Again the two teenagers clashed at one another back and forth... however after several minutes of clashing, Duncan was finally able to kick Ana's sword out of her hand.

Ana was now without a weapon as she stood near the edge of the building's roof. A smiling Duncan pointed his sword forward as he said, "Do you give up?" Ana looked behind her for a moment... and then looked at Duncan with a big smile on her face. Then Ana leaned back... and had herself fall off the roof. Duncan stood confused for a moment, uncertain of how to react. But then... Duncan saw Ana slowly begin to appear once again as her body was now floating up into the air. Duncan looked very confused and angry as he said, "What witchcraft is this!?" Then Ana smirked as her body began to float over Duncan... and then suddenly Ana began falling towards Duncan with her feet out. As she landed, Ana kicked Duncan hard to the ground. Duncan then lay on the ground very hurt as Ana jumped several feet away from him, just so she could get a good look at his bruised body. While looking up at Ana, Duncan looked very confused as he said, "What the!? How did..."

Then suddenly appearing next to Ana was a ghostly glowing teenage boy smiling. Duncan began to look very scared as he said, "Who are you!?" Ana crossed her arms, smirked, and then said, "Duncan... allow me to introduce you to my new best friend: Gerard." Gerard smirked as he said, "Hi. I'm a ghost. Don't worry. I can't send you to hell or anything like that. But my spirit can create a wind that can gently move people, and I have possession powers that can control individuals for a short period of time. I can't make people do anything serious they don't want to do... but it's very easy to control people filled with tons of guilt... which is why it is going to be so easy to convince you to call the police on yourself." Duncan looked very nervous as he found his hands beginning to start a call on his phone. Tears appeared in Duncan's eyes as he began walk down the nearby stairs while saying, "Hello? Police... I need to report a crime I've committed."

Meanwhile on the roof top, Ana and Gerard began to glance at one another... and then they began to giggle. Gerard looked very impressed he said, "Wow Ana. You were awesome just now. Although you were kind of pushing your luck when you jumped off the roof like that." Ana made a big smile as she said, "Well... I just knew you'd be there to catch me." Gerard made a warm smile as he said, "Thanks. By the way... did you get a hair cut recently? It looks nice." Ana began to blush as she started to twirl her hair with one of her fingers while saying, "You really think so? I mean... it's not like I took a class in how do my hair, or spent five hours this morning working on this look to impress anyone." Gerard then moved his ghostly body closer to Ana as he happily said, "Well... I think you look absolutely stunning today." Ana began to giggle with a high pitched tone, and then said, "Really?"

***

Enid and Wednesday Addams were walking through town together, as a smiling Enid said, "Mmm. What a nice day to talk a walk. Thanks for coming out with me Wens. Although isn't this usually your part of the day you try to dedicate to your writing?" Wednesday made a little sigh, and then said, "You are indeed correct. However I have found myself hitting what many would call writer's block. My ongoing book series of teenage detective Viper de la Muerte became quite popular after she married her high school roommate, and then bore two twin children. However now that Viper's children are older than she was when my series began, I fear now that by continuing to age the characters and have them evolve: Viper will become too far removed from who she was originally was. However I could begin to focus my series more on Viper's children... but I'm afraid I will lose my readership if I begin to focus greatly on characters that weren't part of the original canon."

Enid made a small smile as she said, "So basically you don't know where your series is going, or what you should focus on. Well... how about just wing it? Take it one chapter at a time, see how the readers react to everything, and just slowly and carefully move the ongoing narrative along with whatever feels right in the moment, while working at your own pace." Wednesday looked a bit worried as she said, "Do you think the readers will accept a series that is beginning to reach a point that is now without any clear direction of the future? My uncertainty could lead to long delays in new stories being published going forward." Enid shrugged, and then said, "You have a pretty dedicated group of readers Wednesday. I'm sure they'll be patient as you take a little more time to come up with new stories. Although once Netflix comes out with Viper de la Muerte Season 2; I'm sure the fan excitement for that show will inspire a lot more creativity out of you."

Suddenly Wednesday and Enid saw up ahead near the local bank was Ana talking to the police. Wednesday and Enid rushed over to the scene, as a concerned Enid said, "Ana, are you okay?" A female police officer looked at the two older women as she said, "Okay? Ma'am, your daughter just single-handedly defeated an entire criminal organization trying to rob this bank. She also exposed a plan they had for world domination. You know, everyone at the department keeps saying your girl here is like Kim Possible... because she can do anything." Then Wednesday crossed her arms as she said, "Anything except turn her homework in on time." Ana rolled her eyes as she said, "Come on. I've been busy lately." Wednesday then glared at Ana as she said, "I gave you a month to turn in a one page paper on the history of any style of martial art you chose." Ana rolled her eyes as she said, "Oh, come on mother. That's so much work!"

Then as the police began to leave, a curious Enid asked, "So... did you really stop a whole bunch of criminals on your own?" Ana then looked up, and made a big smile as she said, "Well... I might have had a little help... from someone who thinks I look stunning." As Ana's smile began to grow, she also began to let out a giggle. Wednesday looked confused as she said, "Ana, are you giggling?" Ana began to giggle louder as she said, "Well... yeah." Enid also looked confused as she said, "Why are you giggling?" Ana began to laugh hysterically for a moment, and then said, "I don't know." Then Ana began to walk away from her mothers with a big smile on her face... and then began to skip down the sidewalk as she hummed to herself.

As Wednesday and Enid watched this, a still confused Enid asked, "Should we be worried?" Then Wednesday looked at Enid with an emotionless face as she said, "I'm worried any time a member of this family begins to giggle and laugh uncontrollably... however I've been married to you for over 18 years now, so it's something I've become unfazed by at this point." Enid looked concerned as she said, "I don't giggle and laugh uncontrollably." Wednesday glanced to her right as she said, "Look at the mother dog with her puppies over there." Enid then looked to the right, and began to giggle and laugh uncontrollably as she said, "OMG! Those puppies are so cute!" Then as Enid rushed towards a group of puppies nearby, Wednesday rolled her eyes and sighed.

***

As the sun slowly began to set, Ana sat on top of a mountain; while Gerard in his ghostly form was floating near Ana. As Ana looked a bit frustrated, she said, "So I have to still complete one more semester at Nevermore Academy in order to graduate. Do you know freaking messed up it feels to have a twin sister who is already starting college, while I'm still at the academy!? Everyone keeps asking me if Harmony graduated early, or if I got held back!? Uggh! The thing is, the only reason I skipped classes so much was to do some some freelance bounty hunter work taking down a dozen or so terrorists. I mean, okay, so I also skipped a few hundred or so classes because me and Stormageddon the Conqueror were try to track down the Trix Rabbit, and take back our breakfast cereal. But in the end, we taught that silly rabbit that kicks are for ribs! So it was totally worth it! Of course, then..." Then Ana stopped talking as she turned to look right at a smiling Gerard. Ana then began to blush, and smiled as she said, "I'm sorry I've been doing all the talking." Gerard made a warm smile as he said, "It's okay. I like listening to you talk." Ana's cheeks began to blush even brighter, as she made a warm smile while saying, "I like it when you let me talk."

Ana and Gerard then turned their heads and began to silently watch the sun set together for several moments. Then Ana turned to look at Gerard again as she said, "So have you been checking up on your other friends and family?" Gerard made a long sigh, and then said, "Well... ghosts apparently can't float at super speed, so it takes awhile to travel. However... yeah. During the week of your sister's wedding, I went to go see my parents... but I couldn't show myself to them. They still look a bit shaken up by my death... but they're doing better now. However... it's for the best they don't know I became a ghost." A curious Ana then asked, "Is that why you always choose to disappear right when the cops show up after all our missions together?" Gerard nodded his head, and then said, "Yeah. I don't need word to get out to anyone, especially my parents, that I'm still on Earth as a ghost. Also, my mom worried about me a lot when I was alive. Do you know much anxiety it would give her to learn I'm now existing on a spiritual plane she has no control of? Still... there are so many days where I wish I could just touch her and hug her again. I mean.. I wish I could touch and hug everyone I love again. However... that's just something ghost can't do." Gerard titled his head down as Ana looked at him with concern.

Eventually Ana stood up, and then said, "Well... I should be heading home." Gerard then floated towards Ana as he said, "You wanna hike down... or take the fun way?" Ana smirked and then ran very fast... and jumped off a nearby mountain cliff. Gerard then moved his ghostly form under Ana, and used the wind from his spirit to cause Ana to float in the air near him. Soon Ana held her out arms out slightly as she very slowly descended to the ground (while Gerard floated in front of her). As Ana slowly floated down, she looked around as she said, "I just gotta say... being able to fly with you Gerard... has been nothing short of magical. There are so many days where I wish I could just fly and float through anything I want like you do." A surprised Gerard then said, "Really?" Ana quickly nodded her head. Soon, the two reached the ground. The two silently looked into each other's eyes for a moment... and then Ana said, "Thank you for spending your day with me Gerard... and also for stopping those bad guys with me... and for that fun ride down the mountain... and for always listening to me." Gerard smiled at Ana as he said, "Well thank you, for making me feel more alive as a ghost, than I ever did as a mortal human. Sleep well Ana." Then Gerard floated up into the air... and then slowly flew away... as a happy blushing Ana stood still for a moment just watching him.

***

In the Nevermore Academy library, Ana's cat was carefully reading a book; gently using his paws to turn the pages as he intently looked at the words before him. Then suddenly Ana walked into the library with a big smile on her face. Ana's cat turned to look Ana curiously, while a grinning Ana closed her eyes, and then slowly spun around the wide open library as she sang, "So this is love. Mmm, hmm, hmmmmm. So this is love. So this is what makes life divine..." Then Ana's cat curiously said, "Rowr?" Ana suddenly looked at her cat, blushed bright red while looking embarrassed, and then said, "Stormageddon the Conqueror... how long have you been there?" Ana's cat then squinted his eyes and said, "Rowr." Ana then sat down near her cat while saying, "I was just... singing. The more important question is... what are you doing here in the library? Don't you have a litter of kittens to take care of now?"

Ana's cat then pointed to a book he was reading as he plainly said, "Rowr." Ana looked at the book as she said, "What's this? A book on parenting? Stormageddon the Conqueror, are your kittens giving you trouble already?" Ana's cat sighed, and then simply said, "Rowr." Ana looked a bit sad as she said, "Oh, I see. Your kittens call Princess Snuggles by 'mama', and they just refer to you as 'not the mama'. Well... you are at a disadvantage since you can't provide them milk. I suppose that fact typically keeps newborns closer to their birth mothers than anyone else. But your kittens will warm up to you eventually. I mean it's not like you have the kind of roadblocks I'm dealing with in my relationship right now."

Ana's cat then moved closer to Ana, looked at her curiously, and then said, "Rowr?" Ana sighed, and then said, "It's Gerard. I... I like being around him Stormageddon the Conqueror. I mean... I like being around him a lot. However... he always has to wait for me to keep up with him when we're on missions together. I can't go through walls, or casually go through locked doors like he can. Also... I can't fly in the air alongside him. He always has to carry me, so to speak. There are times where I wish I could just have the same abilities Gerard has, and be able to fly through the air alongside him, and travel into any locked room with him. If only there was some way..." Ana sat silent for a moment... but then her cat eventually said, "Rowr." Ana's eyes then lit up as she said, "Of course. This is Nevermore Academy. This place still has ancient texts that have never been digitized, that hold the secrets to all kinds of spells and transformations. Maybe I can find something here that can help me..." Then Ana quickly began looking through books in the library.

***

Gerard slowly floated through the evening night sky while invisible. As Gerard floated through town, he saw a young adult couple walking through town. The young man and woman were holding hands while smiling. The two then stopped at an apartment building. The young man and woman then hugged one another and gave each other a quick kiss on the lips. Gerard watched the entire scene with sadness in his ghostly eyes. Gerard then closed his eyes for a moment... and then said to himself, "There has to be a way." Then Gerard began to fly away towards a local public library.

***

Ana walked into a dark cave by herself as she said, "This is it. Other people have spent years trying to find this place... but they didn't have the strong will I did. Now hopefully... I'll find the special item I'm looking for." As Ana walked into the cave, the webs all around made it clear that nobody had been there for a very long time. As she expected: there was a stone bridge, three pillars on each side showed that at some point it had ropes to make it look more like a bridge. Ana knelt and took a rope from her backpack. Ana took a deep breath... and then said to herself, "If I can find the lost gem those ancient texts I found talked about... then soon I'll be able to find a way to give myself ghost like abilities, and finally be more like Gerard." Ana then tied the rope to one of the pillars and began to lower herself. As Ana lowered herself down, she continued to talk to herself: "And to think they used to throw princesses here for a dragon to eat them… all based on lies… the nerve of some PEEEEEEEOOOPLEEEEEE..."

Unfortunately for Ana, the old rocks gave way, and she found herself falling until her body hit the rocks below. When she opened her eyes, Ana felt pain all over her body, and as she sat: she felt dizzy, and said, "Darn… rocks… okay… this is not the first time I fell inside a cave." Ana felt a sharp pain as she stood up... and then fell back down while saying, "Well this is the first time I almost broke my ankle. Come on Ana… you have been through worse… like that seventh grade math class you were forced to take. God, that teacher was so boring." Resisting the pain, Ana got up and began to walk around. It didn't take long for her to find herself inside a large room. Soon, Ana could feel the smell of sulfur and ashes all around her. Ana then softly said to herself, "Something burned here, that's definite… but it doesn't mean it was a dragon…"

After walking into more caves for more than half an hour, Ana decided it was time to stop. Taking a bottle of water and an apple from her backpack, she decided to make a pause while saying, "No dragon… no treasure… this is looking more and more like a waste of time…" But as she walked into another cave, Ana's eyes opened wide as she saw what seemed to be the statue of three little dragons made of what seemed to be a mix of gold and stone. Ana looked excited as she said, "It can't be… the legend of the three princesses… then… it is… real… all of it… But then this means…"

Suddenly Ana felt the ground moving around her. She quickly looked angry as she said, "Oh, you have to be kidding me..." Moving as fast as she could, Ana entered another passage but to her dismay it was so slippery that she slid until she fell through an opening. Ana was able to get a hold of an opening; but as she began to crawl up, she realized her mistake. Ana screamed as she felt a claw closing brutally on her waist pushing her out and then pulling her inside. Ana crashed mercilessly against the stone floor and glared at the bright red eyes of a large monstrous spider before her. Ana then yelled, "Forget it! I won't end up here as the lunch of a sand spider… and certainly not one on steroids…" Ana began to crawl back to the hole where she had been pulled in... when suddenly Ana felt a piercing pain in her stomach.

Pulling a small vial out of her pocket, Ana was quick to drink the content. Ana then pulled out a small cylinder and threw it to the huge insect. The blast sent it away enough for Ana to crawl out through the same hole and made her way down holding herself from the crevices she found on the stone wall. Once safe, Ana noticed where the spider had stung her. As Ana tried to move forward, she said, "I need to get back home… this is not good… and the antidote I just took won't last forever…" Ana then rose her head as she heard a growling sound in front of her... and a mysterious voice that said, "What do we have here…"

***

Gerard floated into a public library while invisible. There, he saw several young adults working at some of the library computers. Gerard took a deep breath... and then floated over a young woman. Gerard then calmly said, "I'm sorry ma'am, but I have to possess you. I promise I won't hurt you, and I promise you won't remember this when you're done. However... I need you to do any research you can on how to either bring ghosts back to life... or how to at least give ghosts some ability to physically touch people." The young woman looked like she was in a trance... and then quickly began to do a lot of typing and clicking at the library computer. As the woman began her research, an intrigued Gerard began to watch what appeared on the computer screen.

***

Ana crawled back as she saw, right there and then, a huge black dragon glaring at her. The black dragon then opened its' mouth, and in a loud booming voice it said, "It's been a long time… since the last princess was given…" Feeling the pain increase in her stomach, Ana was still able to let out a smile as she said, "Aw yeah! A talking dragon! Man, and I thought being kidnapped by a dark alternate universe version of my mother was the most insane thing that ever happened to me! But with all that being said... sorry mister dragon; I'm not a princess." The dragon glared at Ana for a few seconds while smoke billowed out of its nostrils... and then it finally said, "Don't try to fool me; for I shall soon burn you… and then I shall enjoy eating you!" Holding herself from the stone wall, Ana stood up as she said, "So… you want to kill me… just for fun... without even giving me a freaking chance to fight you with a sword, or learn how to train you, or pour gold on you, or sail into a never ending story!? You are making my first encounter with an actual dragon so not cool! Man, TV just set my expectations for dragons too high!"

However in response to Ana's outburst, the dragon inhaled and his chest began to glow. Using all the strength she could muster, Ana began to run through the passage behind her just as the dragon opened his mouth and spat an inferno of flames at her. The teenage girl screamed and she tumbled to another cave, her clothes in flames. Even though she was able to roll and extinguish them, she could not avoid getting light burns on her arms and legs. Slowly Ana got up while saying, "Why do I get myself in these situations…" As Ana began to walk looking for an exit, she saw that the dark mark in her stomach continued to grow as well as the pain. Nonetheless, she climbed to another chamber where she saw several gems and gold coins among other treasures. Yet, one caught her eye. It was a round, magenta colored gem. Ana's eyes widened as she said, "Wait a minute…" With renewed strength, Ana ran to the gem and took it into her hands. With a big smile, Ana said, "It's here! Just like that book I found in the library told me! It's really real!" However Ana suddenly felt a sharp pain in her stomach again. Remembering how dangerous her situation was, Ana said, "Darn, I need to get out of here..." Placing the gem in her bag, Ana continued her way, looking for an exit to the dark cavern she was in.

***

In the public library, Gerard (while still in his invisible ghostly form) floated over the young woman as she was doing internet research. As Gerard look at the computer screen, he said to himself, "Come on! There's zero research on how to turn ghosts back into moral beings!? Not even from the outcast community!? Seriously; in a world where vampires and zombies and doorways to hell are a thing, no one out there has made progress in bringing life back to ghosts!? Uggh." Then suddenly the ground in the library briefly shook. Gerard immediately stopped possessing the young woman he was with, as she looked startled by the ground shaking. The young woman then stood up as she said, "Was than an earthquake!? Since when are there earthquakes in Jericho!?" Then an older librarian sitting nearby said, "Hmm. That's the first I've ever felt one too. However local legend says that the ground will shake when the legendary dragon of the mountain is awakened... but that's only just a silly story." Gerard then began to fly out of the library as he said to himself, "Hmm... but what if that's not a silly story... and if there is a dragon in some mountain nearby... I think I know the one person in this town who would be insane enough to bring themselves right up to it..."

***

Ana continued to run through the long dark cavern. However as she ran, she also realized that the increasing pain she was feeling was because one of her ribs was broken when the claw of the spider closed around her. Her eyes opened wide when she felt the ground rumble under her and she began to feel the heat going up. "Oh no…" Ana said. She soon ran to the end of the passageway, and jumped down to another cave just when a brutal flame came out of the hole. Turning her head both ways, Ana soon saw a light ahead of her and began to run towards it... only to find that the light came from an opening above her. Ana rolled her eyes as she said, "Great… more climbing… and this freaking pain is growing more and more…" Ana then began to use all her strength to climb up the wall... only to see the light from the opening in front of her took her to the edge of a cliff overlooking the forest. Ana looked over the edge of the cliff, and saw it was an incredibly long drop down. Ana looked extremely frustrated as she said, "Are you kidding me!?"

Then suddenly the dragon re-appeared from behind Ana in the cave. As the dragon flew towards Ana, it yelled, "You have no place to go little princess! You might as well accept your fate!" Then Ana loudly yelled, "I told you! I am not a princess, and have never been a princess! Okay, so I dressed up as the non-super powered princess from Frozen last year for Halloween! But it was my sister's idea! I mean both the character and me have the name Ana for crying out loud! Plus we both have likable quirky personalities, and we both have an emotional sister with special abilities who totally isn't attracted to men! I honestly can't believe it took us years to realize me and my sister have so much in common with the Frozen princesses. But trust me, I am not a real princess!" The dragon then angerly yelled, "Stop your words of nonsense little girl! It doesn't matter whether you are a princess or not. You entered my cavern, which caused me to awaken from my long hibernation! Thus, you shall be my first meal in centuries!" Ana's eyes opened wide. She briefly looked at the steep drop on one side of her... and then looked at the dragon on the other side of her that was inhaling deeply. Ana rolled her eyes as she said, "Well… no time to think clearly through this one..."

Ana then immediately jumped off the cliff just as the dragon shot fire at her. Ana screamed as she felt the intense flames come incredibly close to hitting her. As Ana quickly took out the magenta colored gem she had, she held it close to her face as she said, "Come on magic gem! Make me temporarily become just like a ghost like the legends say!" However... nothing was happening to Ana other than her falling. Tears appeared in her eyes as she said, "So that part I read wasn't true! Ugggh! No, no, no! I'm sorry Harmony, and mom, and mother, and..." Then suddenly Ana felt her body stop falling. Ana looked around... and immediately saw Gerard floating right below her in his ghostly form. Realizing she was no longer in danger, exhaustion finally took over Ana's face as she said, "Gerard?" As Gerard continued to use his ghostly wind abilities to hold up Ana in the air, he said, "What was just going on Ana!? Why did I just see you jumping off a cliff!? What was that fire I saw coming out of the mountain!?" As a very tired Ana began to close her eyes, she said, "I was just trying to be more like you... like doing this..." As Ana began to pass out, a confused Gerard said, "What do you mean by this? Uggh. I guess it doesn't matter. You need to get home. I'll take you as far as the front door of your house."

***

It was 3am. The Addams Family home was in complete silence save for the usual sounds of the night. Wednesday and Enid slept peacefully in their bedroom. Yet the silence was about to be broken as thuds on the door and the subsequent sound of it being slammed open created chaos in the house. Wednesday immediately jumped to attention, and ran down the stairs. Enid quickly followed beside her with her werewolf claws out. As Wednesday took out a sword she yelled, "Stay there and say your name. Although that won't save you from the punishment of breaking into our Sancta Sanctoru..." Wednesday stopped her speech when she realized standing at the door was her daughter Ana... who could barely stand. And it was not a moment sooner as she was able to catch the body of Ana.

As Wednesday turned her around, her eyes widened as she saw that Ana's clothes were in tatters. She had burns on her arms and legs, she had only one shoe and what seemed to be the hole of a sting above her belly button. The teenager smiled weakly as she said, "Sorry… I… guess… I should have left that cave alone…" Horror went across Enid's face as she saw her daughter look so weak and helpless. Wednesday then glared at Enid as she said, "Prepare the basement with everything I'll need to treat her NOW!" Then as Wednesday began to carry Ana to the basement... Gerard in his invisible ghostly form slowly floated into the house... feeling sad and helpless as he looked at the injured Ana.

***

"Wens, we should take her to a hospital!" - Enid pleaded as she stood before Wednesday who was attempting to heal an injured Ana (who was laying on a table in a basement). Wednesday turned to Enid with her usual deadpan expression as she said, "If you tell me how we shall successfully explain to them the nature of the injuries Ana has suffered, then I will." Enid remained silent. Then Wednesday coldly said, "Then be of help and stop burdening me." Ana then screamed in pain as Wednesday applied a syringe to her right arm while saying, "You brought this upon yourself. Now be quiet and accept the pain." Enid glared as Wednesday began preparing a bluish cream, and then gave it to her while saying, "Put this on all her burns. Then cover them with bandage."

It was until they removed the charred clothes off the teenager that they realized the true extent of the burns she had on her arms, legs and hands. Ana screamed as she felt the cream being applied. Wednesday then prepared a beverage that she promptly gave Ana. It took a couple of seconds for Ana's eyes to slowly close. Enid looked confused as she asked, "What did you give her?" Wednesday kept her eyes fixed on Ana as she simply said, "Something my mother taught me to make. It will make her sleep and ease her pain." Enid then looked at Wednesday confused as she said, "But… you mean you… you don't want her to keep suffering? But you said..." Wednesday quickly cut Enid off as she said, "She's my daughter Enid, and I say she has been in enough pain. Now keep applying the cream. It's made of rare herbs from my mother's garden. Once applied, it will heal all her outward injuries within hours." Enid nodded and resumed her work.

While Enid continued to tend to Ana, she realized Wednesday was making what seemed to be tests with some of Ana's blood. Enid noticed this, and said, "Hey Wens..." Wednesday then cut Enid off as she said, "Not now, I need to find out what venom Ana got injected into her." Enid's eyes opened wide as she yelled, "VENOM!?" As Wednesday focused on her work, she calmly said, "The wound on her stomach. It was clearly made by some kind of sting. I need to find out what venom it was so I can give her the proper antidote. Do not fret. It will only take me a few minutes to make the right cure." While Wednesday continued to work, a saddened Enid put her hands over her heart as she said, "Oh God…"

Enid then turned her head away from Ana as she began to cry. Meanwhile Gerard (while still in his invisible ghostly form) floated into the room and looked at Ana. With sadness in his voice, Gerard whispered into Ana's ear: "I'm sorry I can't do more for you Ana. I'm sorry I can't give medicine to your body, or hold your hand, or actually punch whatever it was that attacked you. I... I feel so helpless. I feel so worthless. I... I feel like I'm not good enough for you." Then as Enid was able to bring herself to tend to Ana's wounds again, Gerard sadly floated away from Ana, and soon floated out of the house.

***

A few hours later, Wednesday and Enid were sitting by the injured Ana. Enid slowly took the bandages off Ana with an amazed face as she said, "Wow Wednesday, you weren't kidding. All her injuries look almost fully healed already." Wednesday then put her phone down as she said, "Harmony and Megan just contacted us back. They said they're on their way back here... but it will still take time before they arrive." Then Ana slowly began to open her eyes, and with a groggy voice she said, "Mom? Mother?" A smiling Enid put a hand on Ana's forehead as she said, "Just rest Ana. You're gonna be okay. Everything is just fine now." Then suddenly a loud booming voice outside the house yelled, "Show yourself girl!" Then Enid looked incredibly frustrated as she said, "Oh, come on!" Wednesday then stood up, but glared at Ana as she said, "Remain here."

Wednesday and Enid then quickly went up the stairs and stepped out of their house... only to see the large black dragon standing in front of their home. A very startled Enid yelled, "A freaking dragon!? The local legends were actually real!? Those things actually exist!?" Wednesday however just coldly glared at the dragon as she said, "What do you want creature?" The dragon then angerly said, "I have been without a proper princess to eat for hundreds of years. I remained in hibernation until a certain girl came into my bedrock chambers. She dared break the sanctity of my home... so now I shall break her with my teeth!" Then Wednesday suddenly took out a sword as she said, "No one shall be consumed by you tonight beast." The dragon then angerly said, "Are you giving yourselves in her place?" Then an angry Wednesday said, "Either begone from this place... or your head will soon begone from your body."

The dragon then immediately shot fire from it's mouth. Enid quickly transformed into her werewolf form, while both she and Wednesday jumped away from the flames. Enid quickly jumped at the dragon and began to punch and scratch it many times. Wednesday similarly swung her sword at the dragon's legs, immediately causing it to bleed. The dragon roared in pain as it pushed Wednesday and Enid away. The two married women quickly glanced at each other, and then Wednesday quickly ran towards Enid. Enid immediately used her werewolf strength to throw Wednesday high into the air. Wednesday then flew over the dragon... and then gravity brought her back down towards the dragon's head with her sword out. However the dragon quickly swatted Wednesday away. Enid caught Wednesday, as the dragon angerly yelled, "No mere mortal can stop me!"

***

In the basement, Ana slowly began to sit up as she put a new set of fresh clothes. Suddenly a relieved Gerard floated into the room as he said, "Ana, you're okay!" As Ana began to slowly stand up, she said, "Yeah... but my moms aren't. I can tell by what I'm hearing that they're fighting that dragon out there. I have to help them." A worried Gerard then said, "But Ana, you can't! That dragon is too powerful! It could kill you." As Ana slowly picked up a nearby sword, she said, "Well... if it does... at least you and me will finally be together on the same plain of existence." An upset Gerard then floated right in front of Ana as he said, "Ana, don't say that! Trust me, you don't want to pass on sooner than you're meant to. Life... there is so much to enjoy about it. You remind me of that every day; because you are the most alive person I have ever met. It's one of the things I really like about you. Please... don't change that part of you for me Ana." Ana then looked surprised as she looked deep into Gerard's ghostly eyes while saying, "Seriously?" Gerard nodded his head as he looked at Ana with concern and affection. Ana continued to look deep into Gerard's eyes for another moment... and then she slowly look more energized as she said, "Well okay then."

***

Outside the house: Wednesday and Enid continued to try attacking the dragon, but the dragon kept fighting back against them. The dragon then boastfully yelled, "No mere mortal can stop me: Frederick the Destroyer!" Suddenly Ana could be heard laughing hysterically. Everyone turned their heads, and saw Ana stepping out of the house smiling as she said, "Fred!? Your name is Fred!? You're an ancient creature that lives in a cavern of bedrock, and your name is Fred!? Tell me, is your catchphrase: Yaba-daba-doom!?" Then the dragon angerly glared at Ana as he said, "Prepare to die girl!" Then as Ana revealed she was wearing special gloves with sharp claws attached to them, the teenage girl smirked as she said, "A day may come when the courage of the insane fails... but it is not this day!"

Ana then ran straight at the dragon with her metallic make-shift claws attached to her gloves. Wednesday and Enid then ran at the dragon from it's two sides as they attempted to distract it. Ana quickly used the claws attached to her gloves to slash at the dragon's legs. The dragon screamed in pain as it slowly began to fall. Wednesday meanwhile made more slashes at the dragon's arms, while Enid used her claws to wound the dragon's stomach. However the dragon looked more angry as it yelled, "Enough! Prepare mortals to die in the ultimate inferno!" The dragon then inhaled a great deal of air... and then its' chest began to glow very bright. Ana suddenly looked very worried as she said, "Oh God! This can't be good!"

The dragon's chest continued to glow as it looked like it was ready to shoot fire... but then everyone realized the dragon wasn't moving. A confused Enid then said, "Why hasn't it shot its' flames out?" However as Ana walked behind the dragon, only she could see Gerard was floating behind the beast. Gerard looked very exhausted, but very determined as he said, "I can't touch the girl I like. I'll never be able to kiss her, hug her, hold her, or feel any part of her. However what I can do... is use my ghostly powers to possess this dragon long enough to save the person that means everything to me!" A few tears appeared in Ana's eyes as she looked up at Gerard with amazement. Then Ana turned her head and yelled, "Quick! Deliver the killing blow mother!" Wednesday then gripped her sword as she said, "Gladly."

Then Enid once again used her werewolf strength to toss Wednesday in the air. Wednesday then flew up... and then came down at the frozen dragon with her sword out. Then with one strong swipe... Wednesday instantly cut through the dragon's neck, and had its' head fall off its' body. Blood covered much of Wednesday's body as Enid caught her. Enid looked relieved as she said, "Finally, the nightmare is over." Ana meanwhile looked very tired as she walked over to her mothers while saying, "Yep. The nightmare is over... and now... I think it's time to dream." Ana then slowly began to fall to the ground. Wednesday quickly jumped out of Enid's arms, and then caught Ana with her own hands. Wednesday then glanced at Enid as she said, "I'll get Ana to her room, and make sure her body is fully healed. You better contact the sheriff about cleaning up this mess." As Enid slowly transformed back into human form, she sarcastically said, "Oh yeah. I'm sure the police department is gonna have fun cleaning up a dragon. At least this place won't reek of seafood like after that incident years ago with the sea serpent..."

***

The next morning: a fully clothed Ana slowly opened her eyes as she laid on her bed in her bedroom. Ana then turned her head and saw Gerard floating near her. Ana made a happy smile as she said, "Hey." Gerard however could only make a brief small smirk as he said, "Hey. How you feeling?" As Ana slowly sat up, she said, "I'll survive... thanks to you. Gerard... thank you for saving me last night." Gerard however looked upset as he said, "I... I wish I could've done more. I wish I could've punched that thing attacking you. I wish I could have shielded you with a body that has a physical form." Ana meanwhile began to look guilty as she said, "No. It's my fault. The dragon only came after me because I stumbled into its' cavern it lived in... and I wouldn't have gone into that cavern if I wasn't looking for this gem I found." A confused Gerard then asked, "Why were you looking for a gem in some caves hiding in the local mountain?"

Ana made a sigh, and then said, "Well... the gem I found in that cavern... I took it because... legend says it's supposed to allow whoever holds it the ability to touch ghosts, and be able to temporarily become like a spirit that flies through air and goes through walls." Gerard's eyes widened as he said, "Seriously? That is what you were trying to do last night!?" Ana looked a bit guilty as she said, "Yeah." Gerard sighed too, and then said, "Well... to be honest... last night I tried doing my own research on how I could find a way to touch you, or even be mortal again... but that led to nothing." Ana looked down as she said, "Yeah, and I wound up with nothing too. It turns out that legend of the gem really was just a legend. The gem had no powers. So it looks like neither of us was able to change ourselves for the other."

Gerard however began to look confused as he said, "But Ana... why would you want to change anything about yourself? You're already amazing just the way you are." Ana however also looked confused as she said, "Maybe, but what I really wanted last night was to be like you. I wanted to fly, go through walls, and finally have the ability to be a spirit like you. I mean you can do so many amazing things as a ghost Gerard! You can stop bad people from doing bad things with your possession powers. You can float through walls and help expose crimes. You're like a Super Hero Spirit!" Gerard however had pain in his eyes while he said, "Ana... you don't want to be a spirit like me. I can't feel the sensation of eating or drinking or even sleeping anymore. I just... exist all the time. Even when I use my wind abilities to lift things up, I still can't feel myself touching anyone or anything. Do you know how badly I just want to find a way to finally touch you!?" A few tears then appeared in Ana's eyes as she said, "I know... because when I was really hurt last night... a part of me actually wanted to pass on... because then I could finally be a ghost with you."

Gerard then moved his ghostly face upwards slightly as he said, "Ana... I meant what I told you last night. You are the most alive person I have ever met. It's your most attractive quality. Don't purposefully change that for me Ana... ever!" With a small smile on her face, Ana then stood up as she said, "And I don't want you change anything about yourself either Gerard... because I like you just the way you are. I mean... I really, really like you." With a happy look on his ghostly face, a smiling Gerard said, "Well... I really, really like you too Ana." A look of complete happiness went across Ana's face as she said, "Wow." However a small look of worry went across Gerard's face as he said, "But... how could this work? We can never touch each other. I could never... pleasure your body. We won't be able to have kids. I mean would it even be possible for us to..."

But then Ana quickly put a hand up as she interrupted Gerard and said, "Stop thinking about what isn't possible Gerard, and start thinking about what is. I mean... we live in an angry world now where people constantly complain about all the things other people cannot do. However rather than waste my time focusing on what someone isn't capable of... I instead focus on what someone is capable of... and Gerard, you are capable of understanding me, caring for me, and appreciating me in a way no one else can. So if you're willing to see if this can work... just know I am all in." Gerard floated in the air silently for a moment... and then he slowly floated behind Ana as he calmly said, "You know this isn't going to be easy." Ana then smirked as she closed her eyes and said, "Hey. If Casper and Christina Ricci could make it work... I think we'll have no problem." Gerard then laughed for a moment as he had his ghostly arms go around Ana's body... but as always, his ghostly hands were unable to touch Ana. However after keeping his arms around Ana for just a few seconds, Ana (with her eyes still closed) smiled. Seeing that Ana was smiling, Gerard smiled too. Both teenagers remained exactly where they were, unable to come into physical contact one another... and yet Ana's heart deep down... felt deeply touched.

THE END

...

...or maybe not...

EPILOGUE:

In the family kitchen: Wednesday and Enid sat at a table, while sitting across from them was Harmony and Megan. As everyone was sharing a meal together, a relieved Harmony said, "Well I'm glad to hear Ana is okay. I hope she wakes up before we have to head back to school." Enid smiled as she said, "Well... thank you for sacrificing your time to check up on her. How is college life going anyway?" A happy Megan then said, "Well... the two of us already getting straight A's. Classes are still tough at times though... but it looks like we're going to manage."

Wednesday then raised one eyebrow as she said, "Naturally. You're both Addams now. The world would expect nothing less. However... if you achieve less... you will receive a fierce vengeance from me for tainting our family name." Megan chuckled for a moment as she said, "Nice one Mrs Addams." However as Megan looked into Wednesday's eyes... she saw Wednesday's face looked very angry. Megan then began to look very nervous as she turned to Harmony and said, "Is she being serious?" Harmony meanwhile looked a bit nervous herself as she said, "There are some things you don't want to test in life."

Suddenly a smiling Ana walked into the kitchen as she said, "Hey everyone!" A happy Harmony jumped up, and immediately hugged Ana as she said, "Ana, you're okay! I'm so glad! We left school as soon as we heard you were hurt." A smiling Ana hugged Harmony back as she said, "Thanks sis. But I'm okay... and actually, I have some big news." Harmony then sat back down as she said, "Really? What is it?" As Ana began to look very excited, she put her hands behind her back while saying, "Well... I know it seems like I've been hiding an important part of my life from you all for awhile. However... I'm finally ready to put the truth completely out there. So... here it is." Then suddenly Gerard in his ghostly form quickly flew into the room, and floated next to Ana.

Upon seeing Gerard: Enid, Harmony, and Megan immediately screamed in fear. A panicked Enid then yelled, "Is that some demon spirit!?" Then a freaked out Harmony yelled, "Is that a creepy ghost!?" Then a scared Megan yelled, "Is that something I have to call my grandfather about!?" Then an intrigued Wednesday raised one eyebrow as she said, "Is it my birthday already? I've always wanted a home that was haunted." However a very happy and excited Ana simply said, "Everyone... this is my new boyfriend Gerard. Gerard, this is my family." Gerard meanwhile looked very nervous as he waved his ghostly hand while saying, "Um... hi everyone..."

TO BE CONTINUED...

*Author's Note - Thank you to everyone for supporting me these last thirteen weeks I have posted the last ten chapters of this series (along with the three chapters of my Gomez and Morticia series). These last several stories are some of my proudest works yet, and I couldn't have done it without help from several people I want to shout out to. First, thank you to "DrDoom2006" for being a good friend and fun writing partner on this chapter and several others we worked on. Also, shout out to "Shadow From the Past" for helping me with another recent chapter, and inspiring/recommending several creative choices in this series. And finally, thank you to "Annie the Artsy Artist" for her art she has provided in recent chapters, and ESPECIALLY big thanks to "Emeriart" for making some of the most beautiful "cover pictures" to several of my chapters (including this one).

However, the time has come to take a break from this series. Not a permanent break... but an indefinite break; as I am now out of ideas, and also hitting a bit of burnout. However this feeling occurred to me last Fall as well, only for my first break from this series to be followed by a wonderful comeback. So I expect to make new chapters in this series at some point... but I can't tell you when that will happen. The wait may be short, the wait may be long... or it may extend to around the time Wednesday Season 2 premiers. However my hope was that by ending this chapter on a cliffhanger, it will allow people to have the sense that there is indeed unfinished business here that will indeed be resolved at some point. Simply think of this chapter as a "season finale". The next "season" will come at some point... I just can't tell you when. But until we meet again... thanks for allowing the stories of my world to regularly be a part of yours...

My stories can be found on various sites:

https://www.wattpad.com/user/WenclairFamily (T-rated version of my stories)

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14168842/1/The-Passion-of-a-Moment-Enid-and-Wednesday-s-Family-and-Legacy (M-rated version of my stories)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43420609 (alternate link for M-rated version of my stories)

[hellishattempt]

surprise !

so because i'm the best i've decided to write for steph, cass and babs with the leftover angst songs i have from superache. i also just really love the girlies and want to write for them.

this is the last part in my four part series of angst superache songs as relationships with the batfam. part one ( dick + jason ); part two ( tim + dami ); part three ( bruce + duke ); and now part four!

as always, no pronouns used / gender neutral reader.

( art is from wayne family adventures on webtoon, which you should totally check out because it is the fluff batfans need )

astronomy - stephanie brown. before stephanie became robin, the two of you were as close as siblings. you would drive through the woods of rich neighborhoods, where the waynes lived, just to watch them. you joked as you looked that they were too good for you and stephanie. socially speaking, you were the same, with deceptive fathers and mothers who drank. you found your comfort in each other. you could escape your lives with each other. it got worse when stephanie woke up one night, only to find batman's hands around her father's neck. it was then that stephanie realized what her father was. a villain. stephanie ran from her home that night, seeking comfort in you. she stayed with you for a while, and your love for each other grew, blossoming into something deeper. but it's a tale old as time, young love doesn't last for life. things started to change when stephanie became batman's newest robin. it was obvious, steph was never able to keep any secrets from you. you just knew her too well. these changes weren't good for your relationship with the blonde. these changes weren't good for you. trying to stay with her, adapting to her insane hours, while trying to juggle your school and job, it was taking too much out of you. you still look back on the day you had to break things off with her. every night, before she was a vigilante, you two would go lie out on your roofs and watch the stars. astrology was your thing, and your thing only. you tried to explain things in a soft way, so you tied astrology and astronomy into it. "we've traveled the sea, we've ridden the stars," you were holding her hands in yours. tears were kissing her eyelashes, but stephanie was desperately trying to push them back. "we've seen everything from saturn to mars, and as much as it seems like you own my heart, it's astronomy: we're two worlds apart." those words still haunt you to this day. from far away, you wish you'd stayed with her. stephanie was the best thing in your life, and you hate that the two of you couldn't make it work. but, sitting there, in that memory, you were face to face with a stranger you once knew. old you thought that you'd fall back in love if you wanted. stephanie tried to preserve the relationship, saying "distance brings fondness." but not with you two. you were so hopelessly in love with each other, steph was saying anything and everything to keep you. "i'll change. i'll stop being robin. i'll leave it all for you. we can change. we can be what we once were. please. i'll do anything." you just shook your head. "stop trying to keep us alive. you're pointing to stars that have already died. you can't force the stars to align when they've already died, annie." annie. that was your nickname for her. only you used it.

summer child - cassandra cain. the mesmerizing, ruined cassandra cain was the subject of your bountiful, pure love. you knew everything about her. although the two of you are just friends, you want so much more with the silent girl. her inability to speak well means nothing to you. cassie has a language of her own. she speaks it when she sees all the flowers in the weeds. the way that she's scared of the dark when she sleeps communicates her trauma. she covers up her arms with sleeves so she can hide her scars, even in a hundred degree heat. her small, stuttering voice carries the weight of the world. a single whisper could part waters. cassie doesn't have to tell you anything. you've sat in silence many times before. it's not uncomfortable to you. these moments help you learn her language better. her father was awfully mean, he's the one who did this to her. but you know she still has some happy memories from her childhood. for instance, her favorite color is green. it reminds cassandra of the summer she turned three, running through the sprinkles in the street. cass tries to be happy all the time for her family. she doesn't want to burden them as she's burdened everyone else. so she'll laugh, and dance in the wind, and she'll sway and hug and kiss, but there's a darkness behind those eyes. even when she smiles. you wonder if you're the only one who sees that darkness. you aren't. but you're the only one who doesn't try to change that darkness. you instead try and help cassandra embrace it, trying to learn how to live with it. "you don't have to pretend that all you feel is mild," you tell her. you don't try to make the dark into light. she doesn't really like the sun, it drives her wild. she's a lying summer child. "aren't you way too busy taking care of everyone else to take care of yourself? when the sun goes missing aren't the flowers just as pretty?" you press on. "aren't the oceans just as deep? the trees just as green?" and as for me, i'll just watch you weep. the words are better left unsaid. cassandra's not ready for that. and you're not sure you are either. so you stand, tired of trying to get the love of your life to understand what she refuses to see, and you walk out. "remember, my beautiful summer child, you don't have to act like all you feel is mild." it's fitting that those should be your last words to the stoic, emotional daughter of bruce wayne.

yours - barbara gordon. you messed up the best relationship you've ever had. it's one of your greatest regrets. barbara was someone you'd call when you're alone; someone you use but never own; someone you touch, but never hold. you were somebody she would never really know. barbara only saw the front you put up, never allowing her to get to close to you. when the two of you first started going out, you knew that she wasn't the one for you, but barbara fell hard. she knows she's not the one you really love, but that's part of the reason she's never given up. barbara went through something similar with dick. he chose kori over her, doing stupid things like sleeping with babs, but leaving the wedding invitation to his and koriand'r's wedding on her nightstand the next morning. barbara could give you all you wanted- the stars and the sun, and still, it's not enough. she's not enough. but she stays with you, because all babs has ever really wanted was the look in your eyes, like you already know that she's the love of your life, like you already know you're never saying goodbye. but, begrudgingly, barbara is coming to terms with the fact that's your not hers, that she's not yours. she wants more, but she's not yours. and she can't change your mind, so secretly, you're still hers. so tell barbara that it's time to go, because god knows she can't leave on her own. the only thing harder than sleeping alone is sleeping with your ghost. "i shoulda known that it was dumb love." you're in her living room, having just gotten dressed from the previous night. it was nights like these that kept barbara hooked on you. "what?" you call out, having barely heard her words. "fifteen dozen roses." her tone is bitter. "all the things i've done for you not to notice. i can't believe i chose you over all my best friends. what the hell did i do in the end? just to not be yours? what was the point of it all?" you just stare at her. "what?" you repeat. "get out of my house." barbara snaps abruptly. "i'm not yours. i'm not your lover, not your girlfriend, not your anything. so there's no point for you being here. get out of my life." that was the last time you saw barbara gordon.

[aita-blorbos]

(i want to be polite so you can tag or delete, TW for abuse, suicide, cults)

AITA for running out on my boyfriend while he's having a panic attack?

Some background: I (28M) have been best mates with L (28M) for just about nine and a half years. We met at a party when we were young and he was positively pissed that night, absolutely drunker than he needed to be, and he cane up to me because I've got "a trustworthy face". L convinced me to climb up on the roof with him and we watched the stars and talked, and we've been attached at the hip ever since.

L and I got an apartment together a year or so after that and we lived pretty well together for a while. I thought I was starting to have feelings for him, but he'd always been straight, so I never pursued—however, I did sort of dedicate myself to making his life easier for a while (L's always suffered from depression and anxiety, so I tried to make it easier). This was all fine, until he got with E (F27). To make a long story short, E was an absolute mess. She manipulated and abused him for YEARS. L used to turn up at home with welts, and he had a different excuse every time.

It was a nightmare. It was the worst I'd ever seen him. He was at the end of his rope and it was her fault; one day I came home and all I could see was blood, it was awful. In the note L left he said he didn't want to break up with E because he was scared of what would happen, so that was his only option. He survived, luckily, and found the courage to break up with her. Oddly enough, nothing exceedingly bad happened, but she did somehow make his attempt all about herself.

Anyways, a month or so later, L disappeared without a trace. I left the house for less than an hour, and he was gone. Come to find out some weeks later, he'd run off to an abandoned mansion in the middle of the woods and convened with S (???God), who was somehow WORSE than E.

Because I'm stupid, I followed him there. I forgot my name and my profession, pretty much anything from my life was gone, but I was devoted to keeping L and S happy. They called me 2.

(This all seems irrelevant but bear with me here)

Basically at some point I scorned S by looking at L's face while I was trying to take care of him, and S decided to try and kill me slowly so nobody would notice I died. That didn't work. It turns out, L DID like me, and he'd been starting to remember our old lives and he LOST IT. He broke the bond with the god and I found out how insanely devoted we were to each other in what I thought were my last moments, it was a whole Thing. The most romantic thing I've ever experienced, actually.

So we made it back to the real world, and we were happy for a while after a LONG time of physical recovery, which brings us to yesterday. L had been acting really jumpy and scared for a while and I honestly thought it was my fault. L got really ill really suddenly, sporting a 38.6 C fever last time I checked. He wasn't eating, sleeping, his handwriting was scribbles and he couldn't focus long enough to form a chord on his keyboard.

I tried to cheer him up and make him some broth to sip on, but he just wasn't receptive; L seemed really set on pretending I wasn't even there, which kind of hurt my feelings. Suddenly, his phone buzzed and I saw it was E, who he shouldn't even be in contact with, sending a picture of a positive pregnancy test and saying she was keeping it.

L locked down even harder and I was just confused for a while. I thought she was even worse than I thought and did the unspeakable, but he told me that they met up, and he cheated on me.

With his abusive ex.

I found out the hard way that only L's bond with S was broken, because I wasn't able to think for myself- I was just so shocked. I remember thinking that I wasn't myself, and that it would be easier if I went back to the mansion, because human relationships were trivial and S was sorry and missed me, and I'd be taken care of if I "returned", so I waited until our other roommates (also victims of S) got to the driveway and I walked straight out the front door while he was having a panic attack. One of our roommates luckily stopped me from rejoining the god, and now I've had some time to reflect.

Here's where I think I might be TA. L obviously absolutely lost the plot and he didn't mean what he did (even though I can never forgive him for it, I know he didn't mean it), he was incredibly sick, and he's not ready IN THE SLIGHTEST to be a father. And I guess he doesn't think that E should be a mother, either, because before I left I heard him crying about how the kid was gonna grow up broken. So on the one hand, he needed me, but on the other hand he cheated on me. I just want to know if I was right to remove myself from the situation while he was in crisis.

[wormholxtreme]

💘 + kadam!

Ship Meme | Kadam

where they first met and how

Kaylee was on a "summer" (more like a year) between ending high school and starting college on Hala to learn more about her Kree roots. Adam fresh from his cocoon, all naive and young mentally and Kay shoot his ass out of the sky thinking he was attacking the planet.

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

It was only a few months but Kaylee didn't know it was flirting but Adam had the hots for her pretty quick but boy couldn't keep it quiet for very long

who fell for who first ( if applicable )

Oh Adam was head over heels before Kaylee even knew what they were doing was basically dating.

where their first date was and what it was like

They had several coffee dates on Hala before either of them even made it official during their summer romance but the first real date was star gazing.

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

Adam is a man of many words, under the stars as Kaylee pointed out the constellations, making up stories to go with them he turned to her and said "I've cherished every moment we've spent together. You've become the brightest star in my life, and I can't hold back these feelings any longer." and then KISSED HER. Just ugh this mother fucker

who proposes first

Adam. Kaylee never saw it coming. They were at Thanos and Pepper's wedding when he just looked at her and asked if she wanted to do this too. Just knocked the wind right out of my girl.

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

They never were secret on Hala, but in the time they reconnected 8 years later, it wasn't as flashy. Kaylee wasn't exactly keeping it a secret but she wasn't being as open with the PDA because of her own mental struggles at this point in their lives.

where the proposal happens and how ( kiss cam at a baseball game? on a hillside surrounded by ducks? at a disney park? )

At Pepper and Thanos's wedding but then Adam did a flashier proposal later that was more official. They didn't want to steal Pepper's thunder

if they adopt any pets together

No. Adam ain't around to take care of their kids let alone a pet LOL

who’s more dominant

100% Adam. He's a service dom for sure. Kaylee is a switch bitch and happy to be his sunshine

where their first kiss was and what it was like

First kiss was under the stars on Hala, where Adam confessed his feelings for her and placed that tentative kiss on her lips. It was breathtaking and beautiful and Kay reciprocated making it that kind of steamy and hot.

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

Not really, occasionally if Adam happens to show up during Halloween one year she'd have a couples costume for him but other wise they're both pretty individualistic people with their own styles. Or rather Kay has a style. Adam needs to wash his suit. XDD

how into pda they are

Kaylee's primary love language is physical touch. So PDA is definitely a thing, whether it's holding hands or hugging. Forehead touches. Cupping his cheek in her hands and brushing her thumbs against his cheeks.

who holds the umbrella when it rains

Adam duh. He holds the umbrellas, the presents, the shopping bags. The man pulls his cape off and puts it over puddles so Kaylee doesn't have to get her shoes wet/muddy

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

Their favorite place will always be under the stars, seeing the cosmos in each other's eyes. Not only is it a throwback to their first kiss but they are both star children whose identities and love is bound to the stars.

who’s more protective

Arguably it's Adam. His identity is always in crisis but the one constant is his need to protect people, add in the way he loves and cares for Kaylee and that need to protect goes through the roof. That being said though, Kaylee is not a wallflower. She is a warrior and other than to keep a promise to him, she will die to protect him if need be.

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

A few weeks. The whirlwind from blasting him out of the sky, to them becoming friends, to them becoming more was a fast ride. But it was only a short summer love until 8 years later. The second time, stolen glances, and aching hearts keep them apart. Kaylee's predicament of not knowing where she and Athan stood along with being pregnant with his child made things a little less black and white so they didn't reconnect romantically until after horrible things happened and Kay was at rock bottom.

if they argue about anything

Usually they only argue over Kaylee's reckless self-sacrificing nature. She always thinks she can handle whatever is thrown at her to her own detriment. Otherwise they have extremely healthy communication and don't often have disputes.

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

Neither XD they're both like bullet proof. There's no leaving marks. But it's not for a lack of trying on Kaylee's part for sure

who steals whose clothes and how often

Kaylee will steal his shirt in the mornings after a night of passion but that's about it.

how they cuddle ( spooning? facing each other? )

-sigh- Adam is the big spoon, no matter how much Kaylee offers. He's the big spoon. And Kaylee loves being his little spoon but sometimes they face each other if she isn't feeling very little spoony

what their favourite nonsexual activity is

Kicking ass!! No really, they're both heroes and they love being able to protect and kick ass together

how long they stay mad at each other

The only time Kay ever was mad at Adam was when he played a role in Sophie losing her soul and becoming the new Lady Death. The anger she felt was mostly caused by the feeling of being betrayed by the one person she thought could never hurt her. It takes her a few months to

what their usual coffee / tea orders are

Kaylee and Adam have a lot of rituals behind coffee. She makes him coffee all the time. Usually black with a new flavoring for him to try and she mixes flavors for him on the time until she finds one that he likes above the others

if they ever have any children together

yes! Adam adopts Damien and then they have a baby girl Destiny Hope together. It's a miracle because Adam can't have kids but Eternity gave him the ability once so they could make Destiny, much to Destiny's dismay XD

if they have any special pet names for each other

Adam calls her sunshine more often than not. v.v it's the cutest.

if they ever split up and / or get back together

The life of Kadam is a long and interesting one. Their summer love on Hala was not supposed to last and it didn't. They parted on good terms but it was never destined to be anything more than what it was. But when they reconnected, even with Adam always leaving, they stay together. Mostly because of Kaylee's stubbornness XD

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

Since Adam is gone often it's hard to call what they have shared living space. But for the most part Kaylee keeps a clean and modern house hold. She keeps things interesting with beautiful decor, paintings, flowers, and other things to keep the place looking like a home rather than a doctor's office

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

SHOPPING. Kaylee dragging Adam to all the different shops and going to the orphanages and shelters to pass toys out to the less fortunate. Just bringing him into all the Starkvers traditions

what their names are in each other’s phones

Adam: Sunshine Kaylee: Knight in Shining Armor

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

Traditions are totally around coffee. Kaylee built him a coffee machine for his space ship and stocked it with enough coffee to last him a while and then spends time collecting coffee and coffee related things across the universe so when he returns she can restock his coffee bar and show him new things.

who falls asleep first and who wakes up first

Adam doesn't really sleep but he meditates regularly. Kaylee's sleep is sporadic and she often uses her powers not to sleep at all but in the end she'll be the first one sleep because he makes her feel safe and loved enough to rest and relax

who’s the big spoon / little spoon

Adam is the big spoon always much to Kay's chagrin. She wanna be the big spoon sometimes XD

who hogs the bathroom

Kaylee, it's mostly her bathroom anyway XD Adam can either join the club which he does

who kills the spiders / takes them outside

Neither??? I see them both being the kind to just leave spiders be? They're both invincible and have no fears of little creatures just living their lives.

[autisticempathydaemon]

I'd love to get a match if you're still doing them!!

I'm currently listening to American Teenagers by Ethel Cain. There's something about the lyrics that remind me of my angsty teen years. I'm really stuck on the lyrics "crying in the bleachers and I said it was fun", super relatable lol. I'm also stuck in Hummingbird by The Haunting. My favorite lyrics are "I wish you'd walk in and I miss you pillow talk"

My ennagram type is INFP

I love video essays, the longer the better, but I especially like the ones about videogames I'll never play. I just finished one about no more heroes that was fun.

My go to way to fall asleep is my fan on full blast, covered in a large blanket, and kicking my foot back and forth until I fall asleep, which is pretty fast since the motion soothes me for whatever reason.

I love the Guy confession audio. I love Guy's energy and how he goes from light hearted to fairly serious. He seems so chill and funny and his confession was so sweet.

I'm not a big fan of David. He's cool, but I like guys who are more gentle and emotionally open I guess?

I'd love to be best friends with Gavin because he's so supportive and fun. I think he'd be tons of fun to hangout with. Or Huxley, he's so sweet.

I've researched criminal minds more times than I can count. I love crime shows and such, but I'm not a fan of the personal character drama. I just want to see people solve crime. I know the endings to them all but still like them.

When I'm tired I love to ramble about human behavior. I'm really shy and bad at social interactions so it's usually me hyper analyzing an interaction and pointing out all the ways society's social standards are weird, at least to me lol.

Other stuff- I'm a fairly artistic person, I love paint and drawing, I also enjoy cooking. I'm shy and soft spoken in public but loud when I'm around people I like. I also love sleeping and naps. I'm a bit of a pushover and need people to like me but do like helping people. I also love listening to music, picking just 1 song to write about was hard so I picked two because I like so many, sorry!

Thanks!!

Okay, so hear me out. He gets a little bit of a bad rap because of the whole Sadism’s Hold thing, but you and Ivan, specifically FlyBoi!Ivan, would be so cute together, give him a CHANCE-

I get the irony of pairing you with someone who could have once been on Criminal Minds, I swear, but I feel like Ivan is a wonderfully gentle soul when not being otherwise manipulated. His normal voicemails are proof of that, that he’s thoughtful and communicative and not afraid of being vulnerable and putting his heart out there, you know? This would wonderfully complement the sensitivity that INFPs are known for.

Overall, I think you’d have a lovely, sweet, domestic sort of life together. Ivan also strikes me as a people pleaser which is great because when you pair people pleasers together, you get a couple who consistently looks out for one another’s needs. He travels for work and never forgets to call home or ask what new creative project you’re working on, never lets you forget he’s thinking about and missing you.

Song:

You could be dancing on tabletops/ Wearing high-heels/ Drinking until the world/ Spins like a wheel/ But tonight your apartment/ Had so much appeal/ Who needs stars?/ We've got a roof/ But there's nothing/ Like doing nothing/ With you

I don’t have a firm grasp of what genre Ivan would like, but I do like the slower, swaying vibes of this song for you. It’s sweet, relaxing, the soundtrack to when he finally comes home from a work trip and is grateful to see you napping on the couch in the dimming, sunsetting light of your living room.

Runner-Ups:

Morgan is a runner-up because he has a lot of similar vibes to Flyboi!Ivan, though I don’t know him well enough to match him confidently and he doesn’t strike me as forthcoming with his love and emotions. Cam was a closer candidate if I had not really liked the domestic vibes of you with a human or unempowered person.

note: if you don’t like Ivan and I took too big of a risk I am SO SORRY but he’s a darling and I love him he’s so lovable

Read this post and send me an ask if you’d like a match-up of your own! 💌

[redvelvettel]

FORMULA ONE ☆ MASTERLIST

CL16 🏎🏁

Princess (insta au)

Drenched in glory

who need stars, we've got a roof

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

CS55 🏎🏁

Let you go

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DR03 🏎🏁

Race winner (insta au)

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MV33 🏎🏁

Say sike (twitter/mobile au)

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MS47🏎🏁

Obvious

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LH44🏎🏁

rumors fly through new skies (twitter au)

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I will make a nicer masterlist post eventually but this will have to do for now :)

[ao3feed-twiyor]

by bluedelphi

“This is stupid,” Loid grumbles, voice thick with tears.

Yor stares up at him amusedly, blood red eyes even redder from freely sobbing at the same cliche scene he’s trying in vain not to react to. “Loid, you’re crying.”

He sniffles and wipes his eyes on a sweater sleeve. “I am not.”

-

Anya is off at Becky's house. The Forgers stay in for the night.

Words: 1292, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: SPY x FAMILY (Manga), SPY x FAMILY (Anime)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Loid Forger | Twilight, Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess

Relationships: Loid Forger | Twilight/Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess

Additional Tags: Fluff, Domestic Fluff, movie night with the forgers, idk how they got here i just want them to be happy, use your imagination!, i wrote this last year and forgot abt it whoops here you go, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon