#(i took a solid few minutes just trying to find references and figure out their hair in a side profile)

[airawisteria]

A scene in @holleighgram's Life Long Strangers fic that I really liked!

[ID: A drawing of Sora and Riku from Kingdom Hearts dancing and singing together, holding hands as they do so. Sora is looking up at Riku while Riku's eyes are closed as he dances. Sora is wearing a red hoodie with black accents, grey basketball shorts and red converse with the Kingdom Hearts heart and crown logo in place of the converse logo. Riku is wearing white and black shirt, black skinny jeans and black converse with the same logo as Sora's in place of the converse logo. He is also wearing a black wristwatch.

The background consists of dark pink with warmer light pink light behind Sora and a cooler light pink behind Riku. There are numerous semi-transparent hearts scattered in the background. The lyrics

“It’s not enough to take the one you love for granted!” 

are in the background as well.]

[love-patient-0s-writing-world]

Growing Fond

Shane x Reader

Class: SFW

Word Count: 1.6K

CW: Spoilers For Shane’s First Heart Event, This is Basically a more Detailed Version of the Heart Event, NB Reader, Alcohol, Extisential Dread, Reader is a bit Unhinged, Reader is refered to as Farmer, Mentions of Injuries

For Shane it was a normal boring routine day, he got up, went to work, stocked shelves until his hands were numb and is now being screeched at by his phone that it’s finally his lunch break. He let out a groan as he stood up from his crouched position, his back cracking loudly when he stood up straight. He made a bee line for the door not bothering to acknowledge Morris as he sped past him. He walked all the way to the saloon to find it pretty much empty aside from Gus, Emily, Pam and you. Pam was already 3 drinks in and you seemed to be busy ordering something, so he just made his way to his usual spot against the wall and waited. As he sat down he didn’t notice when your eyes flitted over at him and returned back to Gus quickly adding one more item to your order. When you were done you took your time walking over to him, he looked up and saw a small smile on your face as you waved at him. “This seat taken?” you asked nodding your head at the empty stool. “Nope.” he said popping the p, he didn’t necessarily dislike you but he didnt want to spend his lunch break with you either. You sat down with a sigh leaning your head on your hand as you look at him “So how’s your day been so far Shane?” “Same as always, anyways what are you doing here? Don’t you have crops to take care of?” it came out much more annoyed and rough than he wanted but he’s too tired to correct it.

 Before you could answer Gus came up with 4 cups of a coffee and a small pizza, before Shane could ask Gus for the usual the man sped off to the other side of the bar where Pam is. He raised an eyebrow at your...questionable lunch, although he doesn’t have any room to speak regarding your diet since his looked frighteningly similar. “Ah, well, I’m heading to the mine after this and-” you said pulling a plain silver thermos out of your bag “-I don’t want to run out of energy immediately so...” you opened the bottle and started pouring the coffee into it not spilling a drop from any of the cups. He could feel the terror that flashed on his face before he tried to go back to the usual RBF he has. “That can’t be healthy…well at least you’re getting some solid food in.” He eyed the personal pizza that sat in front of you, “Oh! Uhh…” You looked away from him with a soft chuckle “I actually got the pizza for you.” A nervous smile forced it’s way to face as you try to figure out what to say next. “I know today’s your birthday so I thought I’d get ya lunch…” His head cocked the side slightly “Oh, is it my birthday today?” He looked down at his phone to see Spring 20 on the lock screen “I guess it is, thanks.” He looked up at you with a small smile “This is nice.” “Well I’m glad you like it!” You slide the box in front of him and after he takes a couple bites from the pizza you got him you turn towards him, “I should probably get going-” you hop off the stool next to his with ease “Bye Shane, have a happy birthday!” Your smile makes him almost sad to be alone again…almost. “See ya, Farmer.”

He watched you walk out the Saloon door, he finished the pizza in a few minutes and let out a sigh as he looked at the time. Sliding off the stool he walked out of the Saloon back to his miserable job. The day blurred by restocking the same shelves that he wished he could watch burn to the ground, when his shift ended he picked up a pack of beers before heading home. The night air was crisp and the temperature was not…uncomfortably warm, so he walked out to the pier on the property and plopped down with his pack next to him. He was about 2 cans in when he heard the creak of the old wood planks behind him and footsteps approaching, stopping when they reached him. When he looked to his side he saw grimy boots covered in mud, slime and…insect remains, well there was worst company to have than you. “Up late, huh?” “Actually just got back from the mines.” Letting out a tired chuckle as if it was hilarious that you spent 10 hours underground. As he turned up to halfheartedly scold you for your life decisions, he got a glimpse of the arm and hand closest to him. Cuts ranging from little scratches to a freshly stitched up gash on your bicep, large welts that resemble…bug bites, and bruises of all colors are splattered across it. He no longer had the will to tell you off, “Here, have a cold one.” He extended the can to you, feeling your calloused fingers brush against his as you grabbed it.

Taking the beer as an invite to stay for awhile you take a seat next to him. You’re much closer than either of you expected, shoulders pressing against each other. He watched you a bit as you fiddled with the little metal tab, after a couple minutes of insect chirps he lets out a sigh. You tilted your head at him and he just responds with a bitter “Buh…life.” Maybe it was the beer or the comfortably uncomfortable silence that made him speak without thinking, “You ever feel like…no matter what you do, you’re gonna fail? …Like you’re stuck in some miserable abyss and you’re so deep you can’t even see the light of day?” He could feel your eyes burrowing into the side of his head, but he kept staring straight into the darkness of the lake beneath you both. “I just feel like no matter how hard I try…I’m not strong enough to climb out of that hole.” He can see your head turn forward in his peripheral, taking the opportunity to actually look at you. Your body was tense and face wearing an expression he knows all too well, a mixture of existential dread and tiredness. In the silence that settled over you two the crack of the tab finally breaking the aluminum can was heard. He watched as you brought it up to your lips and tilt your head back, hearing your big gulps of the icy beer until you finally crush the can in your hand. Maybe it’s the beer buzzing in his system but the way you’re lightly panting and the expert chugging had him feeling…funny. You looked over at him and mumbled a little “Sorry.” 

He felt the corners of his mouth curl up a bit “Heh…fast drinker, huh? A person after my own heart.” You could feel your face warm up a bit at his flirty joke. “Just don’t make it a habit…you got a future ahead of you still.” There was such a soft undertone of sincerity that it caught you a bit off guard, you watched as he finished his can of beer placing it next to your crushed one. “Welp…my liver is beggin’ me to stop. Better call it a night.” You got up wobbling a bit, man are your legs and arms sore from today. Shane grabbed the empty cans placing them in the plastic bag the pack came from, you watch as he grunted to get up on his knees, without hesitation you extended a hand to help him up. He stared at it for a few moments before taking it, you pulled him up towards you with ease, his hands were warm and a bit sweaty along with his his now slightly red cheeks it was something that nestled into your brain without realization. You reluctantly let go of his hand opting to shove them in your pockets, “I’ll walk you to your house…it’s on the way to mine.” Despite the fact the house he shared was visible from the dock he wasn’t opposed to having your company a little while longer. The grass crunched under your shoes as you walked with him, reaching the trash can that sat right outside the front door he dumped the bag with the empty cans. 

“This was nice, thanks for the beer and the company.” Your smile was well visible due to the house lights shining right outside the front door. “I’m heading home now, I’ll see you tomorrow, Shane!” You waved as you started walking off, “See you around, Farmer.” Returning the wave as he walked into the house, without thinking he stood by the window and watched you dissapear down the path that connects the two properties. He slowly walks to his room attempting not to wake anyone else in the house, sliding into his room he softly closed the door and let out a sigh. He faceplanted onto his bed feeling the effects of the day and beers crash on him, his mind drifted from the shelves of the market, the few ‘Happy Birthdays’ he recieved and finally landed on you. He let his thoughts linger, marinating in the details his slightly hazey brain grasped onto. The callouses developing on your hands, the scars forming on your arms and the way that you lifted him like he was a feather...he could feel his face heating up again like before, ‘I need to stop...but I guess there are worst ways to spend my birthday?’ Getting up he kicked off his shoes, lazily changing into a T-shirt and shorts. Crawling back into bed he closed his eyes and let himself indulge the thoughts his sober brain would’ve shot down immediately. The best gift he’s getting today is from himself and it’s a good night’s sleep.

I hope you enjoyed reading this! Remember to drink water, eat something and get plenty of rest! Feel free to return whenever you want traveler, take care!💜

~Love Patient 0

[wheels-of-despair]

Draw Me Like One of Your Dwarf Girls, Eddie Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie decides to work on his drawing skills, and accidentally awakens a monster in the process. Contains: Titanic references, female nudity, a brush with death. Word Count: 1.3k-ish

"Draw me like one of your dwarf girls, Eddie," you say in a sultry voice, trying your hardest not to laugh.

"What did I tell you about talking?" He pauses to give you a pointed look, since he's already told you to pipe down several times. You roll your eyes, and he returns to his drawing with a renewed vigor.

It's early 1998, and you've recently dragged your poor Eddie to a theater to see that damn Titanic movie everybody and their mother keeps raging about. All 3 hours of it. You may have neglected to mention the runtime when you bought the tickets. You owe him.

He survived, but was suddenly faced with the desire to "work on his people-sketching skills." Which of course meant it took him less than a week to convince you to strip and pose like Rose on the couch, wearing only that red guitar pick necklace he's had since high school.

You're stretched out and exposed and already bored. Two hours ago, he'd adjusted your hand a quarter of an inch this way, your knee a quarter of an inch that way, and you'd been instructed not to move.

Well, it felt like two hours, but it was really only about 30 minutes.

With nothing else to do, and being mildly disappointed that he didn't find your commentary amusing, you watch his eyes follow the pencil scratching across the paper you can't see. He's cute when he's concentrating. Tongue poking out, brow furrowed, that spark of creativity in his eye. It must be going well, because he smiles occasionally. He even giggled once. If you had to guess, you'd say it probably had something to do with a nipple. It was a little chilly.

"Just as I thought; it's a masterpiece."

"Are you done?" You'd only been in this position for an eternity.

"Oh yeah, this baby's getting framed." Ignoring you, he holds his sketch pad out to view it at an arm's length, beaming at his creation.

"Can I move now?!"

"Yeah, you can move."

You stretch your stiff limbs and get up off the couch, reaching for the flannel he'd discarded on a chair nearby, buttoning a few buttons as you pad over to where he sat admiring his work.

You place a hand on his back and look over his shoulder at the figure on his sketchbook. You're confused, but you can't take your eyes off of it. You can't think of anything to say. Until…

"What. The FUCK. Is THAT."

He looks up innocently and says, "What? I was just following instructions. You kept talking, figured I better listen."

You have no words.

You do, however, have a fucking BEARD in Eddie's drawing.

He sits there, looking up at you with a proud grin on his face, waiting for you to react.

You stare at him wordlessly, still in a state of shock.

Until he laughs at you. LAUGHS AT YOU.

Your brain begins to swirl furiously, until it flashes one word: KILL.

You clench your fists, and he begins to sense that you're not going to start laughing with him. His eyes widen, and he jumps out of his chair, vaults over the coffee table, and stands on the couch.

"I can explain," he says quickly, trying to sound calm, steps unsteady on the cushions.

You can explain too. Explain to the responding officers how one Edward James Munson met his gruesome demise.

"It's Tolkien."

You ignore him and advance slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. Eyes unblinking. Blood boiling. Steam probably coming out of your ears. He jumps off the couch as you approach the coffee table.

"It's from a book!" He's walking backward, holding out his sketch pad like a lion tamer with a chair.

His eyes bulge as he hits something solid. You've backed him into a corner. Literally.

"Tolkien! Middle-earth! The Hobbit! Nerd shit!"

Nerd shit won't save you now, Munson. You narrow your eyes and prepare to go in for the kill. He panics.

"Dwarf women have beards! It was a joke! I'm sorry! I love you!"

The "I love you" makes you pause, just as you were about to pounce and slash your prey to pieces. The hell?

"What?" you ask, giving your head a slight shake in confusion.

"Dwarf women have beards. In the books. You said to draw you like a dwarf. It was a joke. I thought you'd know what it was."

"You thought I'd know some random detail from a book I haven't read in over a decade?"

"I mean, it's a pretty memorable detail…"

You roll your eyes, heave a sigh, and pinch the bridge of your nose. Why is this not surprising?

"So you're not gonna kill me?" He's still backed into his corner. You consider it for a moment, deciding that you've played with him enough for today.

"Not tonight, Munson."

He exhales and leans his head back against the wall.

"But I WILL get you for this," you threaten, pointing a finger at him. He nods, used to this constant back-and-forth game you'd both been playing for over a decade. He knew you'd never really hurt him, just like you knew he wouldn't hurt you either. It was just a game.

You turn to walk away, and hear him whisper to the abomination he's still clutching: "Don't worry baby, you're still gettin' framed."

You whip around, eyes flashing. He gulps. You step closer, making him lean further back into the wall. He's cute when he's scared.

"Give it."

He stares at you with those big, beautiful brown eyes of his.

"Give it," you repeat, holding out a hand and waiting for him to place his sketchbook into it.

Reluctantly, he hands it to you. You maintain eye contact as your fingers find the thick cover page, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of looking at his ungodly creation again. You slam it shut and he flinches.

"What are you gonna do with it?"

Beat your nerdy ass to death with it.

Still clutching his sketch pad, you step back silently and gesture for him to walk on by with your free hand. He slowly peels himself off the wall and begins to move with an apprehensive look in your direction, and a thought occurs to you.

As he scurries past you, you smack him on the ass with his sketchbook. He whirls around with a yelp, hands clutching his cheeks. It's cardboard, you drama queen. You step closer and swing the book at his arm.

"You made me lay there for AN HOUR! While! You! Drew! That!" You punctuate each word with another smack of the sketch pad. He continues overreacting to each hit and falls to the floor with a wail when you finish yelling, clutching his imaginary wounds. You lift the book above your head with both hands, ready to finish him.

"It started out real! But I couldn't make it look like you! It wasn't pretty enough!" You graciously decide to let him continue, still holding the sketchbook in an attack position, just in case. "I tried," he explains calmly now, "but it wasn't working out, and then you said the dwarf thing, and I thought it would be funny. I'll make it up to you."

"Damn right, you will." You lower the book and release it. It lands on his chest with a light thud. He grins from his position on the floor. You step over him and make your way toward the bedroom.

"Starting now," you inform him from the hallway, not slowing or turning around. You hear him scramble to get up, knock something over, and curse before he hurries in your direction.

He's lucky he's cute.

[writingintheshadowsforever]

Imagine putting up Christmas decorations with Namor

You weren't surprised to find Namor waiting for on the beach, considering you made the trip back home. Without his knowledge while he was asleep, what did catch you off guard was the lack of anger. Even you and him were in a pretty good place, and you figured you had earned his full trust by now. You knew your relationship with him was a tad bit fragile. A solid month had gone by since you had agreed to his marriage proposal and had made Talokan your new home. The adjustment was going better than you thought it would, and while you were getting tired of eating fish every day, You were actually really starting to love the underwater empire.

He frowned at the city of black box in your arms. "What is that?"

"Just a few Christmas decorations." You told him coming to a halt leaving only a few inches between the two of you.

"Christmas" Namor repeated tilting his head to the side in confusion.

"Yeah its a holiday on the surface world I guess it wouldn't make sense for you guys to celebrate it. I just wanted to decorate the cave considering I'm going to spending it down there."

Namor wondered if you were trying to coax him into telling you to stay on land for the big day. But before he could even consider you were shoving the box into his arms, and dashing into the water with laughter. "Race you back home."

He stood there for a solid ten seconds replaying the way you referred to Talokan as home with such a carefree attitude. While he knew you were settling in okay. He didn't think you would become this comfortable this fast. Namor tucked the box under his arm then followed after you in no hurry. You had disappointed beneath the waves by now, but he knew he could catch up to you in no time.

"No way you cheated" You said with a small pout. The two of you were finally back in the underwater cave. Namor set the box on the table in the center of the room, and took a seat on the sofa.

"I didn't in yukunaj I'm just faster than you that's all" He replied with a chuckle.

You shook your head dropping down to your knees by the table to go through the box. Obviously you couldn't put up any lights considering the cave was already perfectly lit up with the ringworms. Shuri offered you some specially made wireless lights, but you turned them down. Deciding it was best to just settle for a few decorations you just throw up on some of the spiky rocks protruding from the cave floor.

"Do you want to help?" You asked Namor who had been watching you pull the decorations from the box with genuine curiosity.

He gave you a small nod.

You went over what you wanted him to put up, and how to do so. Before setting off on to work on one side of the cave while he got the other one. For the next ten minutes you and him worked on the making the cave more festive. You hummed a few Christmas tunes wishing you would've thought to grab something to play music on. It was decided a week ago that you could continue to reside in the underwater cave even after marriage. There was no need for you to be underwater twenty-four seven.

"My princess where do you want this?" Namor asked breaking you out of your train of thought.

You stopped humming to look down at him currently you were floating on a wave of air to reach the cave ceiling. In his hand was a small green plant with a red bow attached to it. Your eyes went wide once you realized what it was, and you lowered yourself to the floor. "Um don't worry about this one we don't need to put it up." You reached for it but he pulled it back.

"Why don't you want to put this one up?" He asked half out of curiosity and the other half being worried. You knew it didn't take much to make him paranoid.

"Its called the mistletoe and there's a meaning behind this one" You told him.

"What's the meaning? Namor continued to push.

You let out a sigh as heat rose up on your face. "If two people are caught under it they have to kiss alright. I use to put them up all over the palace with Shuri to mess with T'Challa." It was when you and Shuri discovered he had feelings for Nakia and had yet to reveal them to her. It was Shuri's plan and you helped her execute it. You wondered if this was him getting back at you for that, because you swore that the mistletoe was the one decoration. You made sure didn't make it into the box.

Namor glanced up at the plant he was holding above your head before his gaze went back to yours. He arched an eyebrow at you.

"No no we don't have to kiss. Its not like tradition I mean it is but we don't have to." You said jumping up to grab the mistletoe out of his hand. Your attempt was successful, and as you turned away to put it back in the box. Namor caught you by the wrist making you pause to look back at him.

"Do you want to?"

Some shifted between the two of you when he asked that question. Up till now while you and Namor had shared a few romantic glances which were far and between. Nothing else had really happened other than the occasional hug instead your relationship with him was being built solely off of conservation. Both of your main concerns was getting you acquainted with Talokan and the people. But his people adored you from day one, and now in their eyes you were the unofficial queen. Last week you made the trip to the city without him one morning to greet everyone.

This question presented you both with the opportunity to cross a boundary. That had been put in place for day one to never be crossed until both of you were comfortable with each other. And as you looked into his softened eyes. You realized that you were more than comfortable with his presence.

You let the plant slip from your fingers and fall to the floor. Your hand slowly caressed his left cheek as Namor leaned into your touch. "Do you want this in yukunaj?" He asked again. This time his voice was just a whisper.

"Yes" You replied softly closing your eyes.

Namor rested his hands on your waist and leaned his head down brushing his lips against yours for a brief second. You leaned forward pressing your lips to his before he could move again. It was as if you sent a current of lightning through his body. When your lips made contact with his, and his grip on your waist tightened a little bit. You brought your other hand up to cup his face. As his lips matched your slow pace both of you wanted this to last as long as possible.

It seemed like the kiss went on forever but in reality it had only been a minute before. You and him finally broke apart at the same time a little out of breath.

"That was nice" You said with a small smile once you had recovered.

Namor responded with a tiny nod his eyes focused on your lips, and without warning he leaned down to place a gentle kiss on them. You kissed back as the same feeling took over your body again. "So what else makes this holiday so special?" He asked after it was over.

"Well we do exchange gifts and I might have one for you" You told him.

His lips quirked up into a small smirk. "And what would that be?"

Tag List: @omgsuperstarg @local-bxbby @nebulastarr @historygeekqueen @realm-of-azrael @lia-losing-it @queenotaku23 @creamecafe @dngnmtr-blog @lullabaesstuff @polireader @alinefrank @pearlsyeaaa @astronautelilanded @riri53 @undermoonlightwalk @1andonlytashae @riverjane-d @zeeader @farleyis @ziayamikaelson @leahnicole1219 @redcitisiren @ellathefriendlyalpacaaa @looneylikesbooks @thighella @http-isabela @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @motivation-idontknowher

[writingsbychlo]

smoke and fire (07b)

word count; 7053

summary; as the tragedy of the chemical fire begins to wind down, the aftermath leaves the entire team in shock, and in need of a little comfort.

notes; this is the second half of part-7, I just know you guys are going to love it by the end.

warnings; minor character deaths, reference to panic attacks, vomiting, chemical fires.

Finally, the dam broke, and you tried to hold in the tears that wanted to release, the boy on the sheet twitching aggressively in his unconscious state as his body struggled to keep functioning. Your hands felt heavy as you pressed your hand over the neat stack of cards, dragging your hand over the pile and spreading it out to display all of the colours, before your fingers were brushing over what you were certain was the first of this colour card to be issued yet today.

A black card, feeling ominous in your hand, the weight of the card feeling more like bricks as you lifted it up, and you allowed yourself to shed the first tear. You didn’t want to tell Thomas, to let him know the real extensions of what you were seeing, but there was nothing for this boy that you could do. He wouldn't make it to a hospital or into surgery, his injuries were far too extensive, and so you let your legs stretch out from in front of you, the black card looped around his neck as you tried your best to make him comfortable.

The wipes you used were soothing instead of antibacterial, cooling skin that had been destroyed by flames, red and bleeding as you tried to soothe him, wiping away the traces of his injuries to try and clean him up.

There was a hope, that family was coming for him, that you were cleaning him up for a reason, helping him to look more presentable as you wiped traces of black ash and dust from his skin, all mattered in brown-red stains and sweat, tears under his eyes, and you removed it all.

It was moments like this that you had to remind yourself why you did this job at all, working along him carefully all the way to his fingertips as you wiped him down, adjusting the torn shreds of his clothes around him to hide the extent of his injuries as best as you could once you’d padded the deep slashes across his torso, bandages already beginning to seep through with red, but you adjusted his shirt down to over them. It wasn’t much of a disguise, but it was radically better than it had been.

Tanned flesh was beginning to lose colour and his body motions were beginning to grow fatigued, and once you had adjusted him as best as you could, you were simply left to wait, sitting by the young boy’s side, and whispered reassurances into his ear with every twitch he made, sometimes resurfacing long enough to feel his pain, back arching and screams of pain leaving his lips, and you bit back tears, before letting them flow freely once again when his pain carried him back a state of illusion.

You loved this job, because in 99 out of 100 cases, it worked out. You helped pregnant women escape elevator shafts and father’s life long enough to see their baby born too, and you helped kids escape a life they didn't want to be in, and have the courage to create a new path. You helped nurses of amnesia patients escape burning rooms when they’d given up all hope, and you saved the elderly from suffocation on the gas leaks within their own homes.

You were damn good at your job, but sometimes, there were moments like this one that made it all that much harder.

Making a mental note of where you lay within the chaos, you hauled yourself up onto your feet, families weaving around as they all made to seek out their family members, and you were glad to notice that less and less people were being removed from the building. As you weaved through the channels made in the grass, the green stands worn away under multiple foot and wheel prints into muddy dirty tracks that would take weeks to fix, you made your way towards the ambulance you’d arrived in.

The weight of your body was heavy, every footfall feeling like it weighed you down more and more, your arms hanging by your sides, and you knew that tomorrow you would be riddled with pain and aching muscles, the over-exertions, everything from fixing up simple wounds, to hauling around men who were 200lb of pure muscle to help move them into recovery positions or lift them onto stretchers when they were too weak or injured to do it themselves, workmen who were twice your size, and the strain was making itself known.

You were numb, for now, and it was a sweet and blissful relief to know that the racing of your heart was creating enough adrenaline to dull every pain you had. Well, except for the headache that had been throbbing behind your eyes for hours now and making you feel a little nausea, but you could handle that, as long as you were able to finish this day without anything else. You must’ve dealt with over a hundred people at least, possibly more, the workload doubled with Newt too, and you were ready to crash into your bed, dreading the hours of shift you still had remaining.

The flames were beginning to be tamed, the blue tint to the smoke was fading as the chemicals were burned away, thick clouds of black smoke as the orange glow died down, beginning to be extinguished. There wasn’t much equipment that you had needed before, and yet now, you were grabbing ahold of a heart rate monitor and an oxygen tank, the mask to match it, and one of the stretcher pillows that had been discarded to the front of the ambo’ to make more room on the trolleys.

Hooking the monitor under your arm, you moved it to sit comfortably balanced on your hip, before you were letting out a sigh, your fingers hovering over the drawer of medicines and needles that you hated going into. Newt had stuck a small skull and crossbones sticker over it, one that had an eyepatch and a pirates hat on it, a joke between the two of you after you’d gone through the drive-thru at McDonalds on the way back from a call only a few weeks ago, getting a collection of pirate stickers in a happy meal box.

That drawer was only ever dug into if all options were out, if you were simply trying to relieve some of the pain that a patient was in, because they were in agony, and wouldn't make it to the hospital. Enough to bring down someone's pain levels, to let their heart relax, because once their brain stopped fighting to keep them alive and hiding the pain, they often didn’t drive too long after that.

Swallowing thickly, the jars within rattled a little as they clinked against one another. Shifting through and turning them in your hands, you found the container labelled with the medicine you were searching for, a fresh needle in a plastic packet, and you held both of them in your other hand, adjusting the equipment in your arms as you hopped down from the vehicle once again.

Slamming the doors back shut and waiting to hear them lock behind you, your eyes flickered over the scene. There were still a lot of police officers; operating crowd control, handing out water bottles and guiding members of the family through the crowd. You would give it time, not injecting the poor boy with the medicine until it all became too much for him, giving him the best chance for his family to get here before he passed, but you couldn't wait long.

Your feet dragged a little as you walked, toes scuffing against the muddy grass, and you were beginning to lose all strength, forcing yourself to go on, muscles clenching to keep them tight before you dropped everything you were holding entirely. Arriving back at the scene, the boy was panting rapidly and lightly, eyes moving beneath closed lids and jaw clenched so tight you worried he would crack his teeth, fists clenched by his side as his body remained rigid.

Placing down the kit gently, you let out a little sigh, his eyes cracking open to turn to look at you as he heard the sound.

“I-It hurts!”

You swallowed, knowing there wasn’t much more you could do as his voice cracked. He was covered with burns, and there were clear signs of internal bleeding as the organs beneath charred skin went solid, there was bruising along his body in many places from the broken bones under his skin, and with the wheezing he let out, never quite able to catch his breath, you were certain that the cracked ribs had punctured one of his lungs. “I know, kiddo, I know.”

He cried out again, a wet sound as he coughed, his entire body jerking at the sensation, and you cupped a hand behind his head, fingers finding the sticky wetness of warm blood at the base of his neck as you tried to rock him forwards, letting him cough until splatters of blood were hitting his lap and the plastic, splattering a little across you as he wretched, his entire body trembling.

When he finally managed to stop the movements, he was even more out of breath than he had been, and you lay him back down, using a glove-covered thumb to wipe at the corners of his mouth and clear away the blood and spit mix that had accumulated there. He had wretched, several times, though no bile had risen, his body reacting in every way it could now as organs began to fail and shut down one by one, and you hated that there was nothing anyone could do but sit here on watch.

Minute felt like an eternity as you hooked up the heart monitor, turning the volume down to soft beeping, as not to disturb anyone else, an uneven and erratic rate with a blood pressure concerningly low, and you were glad that the average eye couldn't read these figures, because it read like a horror story in a medical professionals eyes.

Just as you finished hooking the boy up to the machine, an oxygen mask sitting over his face, fogging up lightly inside as he took gasping breaths of the raw source, you felt a shadow fall over you, covering your eyes from the light before you were looking up.

The mother, you could tell immediately, from the sullen look in her eyes, and she didn’t look at you, her gaze sweeping over the boy who lay beside where you knelt, before she was turning, a quick call to her husband, and just like that, you were crowded by family. There were three younger siblings, and he seemed to be the eldest of them all, a pre-teen with tears already in her eyes as she looked at her brother, a child who couldn't be older than eight staring in confusion as they tried to grasp what happened, and a toddler, a fist knotted in their father’s jumper and balanced on his hip.

Sinking to her knees beside her son, she didn’t sob or scream, she simply let out a shaky breath, lifting her hand to brush dark curls out of his face, looking down at her eldest child as he began to slip away again. Setting the youngest down, the toddler wobbled on unstable legs to their mother, sitting down in the grass beside them and reaching a hand out with useless babble to place a chubby hand onto the boy’s arm, squeezing a little and cheering as they lived within a bubble of innocence, unaware of what was happening.

“Can you tell me what’s happening?”

A deeper voice, the father, and you turned, nodding your head to him and shifting yourself to pick up the needle, tearing off the plastic top and producing the needle from inside. “I’m just going to give him a shot of morphine, and then we’ll talk.”

He only nodded, watching as you lifted the container, pushing the tip of the needle through the rubbery covering and drawing back on the syringe carefully to fill the needle with the approximate amount, tapping the tip and checking it over once it had the right dosage within it. Finding a spot on his arm where there was still enough intact flesh to find a vein, you pressed your finger down over the pale skin, the blue vein underneath disappearing for a second, refilling weakly but marking its place, and you lined the needle up.

An uncomfortable pang shot through you as you injected the needle into his arm, pushing the pad of your finger down against the handle of the needle until all of the medicine had been unloaded into his veins. It took a few seconds to travel, and you watched him, studying his reaction to be sure, before all at once his muscles loosened and he sagged with relief into the plastic tarp as the pain finally faded away, fingers flexing around his mother’s as he squeezed with what little strength he had left.

Standing up and wobbling a little, the father followed you a few steps away from the group, and he glanced back over his shoulder to his family, hands sticking into his pockets, before he was letting out a heavy sigh. “My boy, he’s not going to make it, is he?”

“No, he’s not.” You whispered, and the man only nodded, a slow exhale from him as he processed that news, before tears were building in his eyes, and he began to crumble a little. “I gave him a shot of morphine, it’s slowed down all of his functions now, and taken away his pain. He can’t feel it now. I wish there’s more I could have done, I’m sorry.”

“My wife saw the news, saw the explosion. She was so worried, straight away.” A twist of guilt moved through you, making you sniff a little as your own lower lips wobbled, and you tried to choke down tears. “I told her she’d be okay, and that he was just an intern. There was no way he was close enough to the real stuff to be badly injured.”

“My friend found him, carried him out about fifteen minutes ago. Gave me enough time to let you get here to say your goodbyes.”

“You tell your friend ‘thank you’ for me, and for my family.” You nodded, knowing how much it would mean, and he finally let his tears slip free, making it harder for you to contain your own emotions. “He’s the oldest of all four, I don’t do much for a job. I’m just a mechanic, and his mother works at a supermarket, but he was going to college. He studied biomedical science, he was going somewhere.”

You grimaced, an unstable breath sucked into your lungs, before you were blinking quickly and looking away. There was bile rising in your throat, your hand gripping at your stomach to try and contain it. “I’m going to go now, and let you say your goodbyes. I’ll return soon, okay?”

You both knew what ‘soon’ meant, and he nodded, stepping away to talk to his wife, and a look seemed to be all that was needed to communicate between them, before the first of a loud cry was leaving her lips, and that was your breaking point. You shouldered through the people, mumbled apologised on your lips, you did feel bad for pushing through them all, but you could barely choke down the vomit rising within your guts before you were stepping out of sight, hunched over at the waist as you let it go, hand reaching out for supper as you found the tree.

Nails scraped against the bark, the pads of your fingers stinging at the rough pressure, and you shuddered as you heaved, throat stinging and eyes watering as you struggled to even breathe. It felt unending, time warping around you as you realised it had only been a half-hour since the boy had been delivered to you, and that he wouldn't make it to the hour marker.

A hand came down to rub at your back, and you gasped for breath, wiping the back of your hand, covered by your sleeve across your mouth and taking a moment to yourself. When you were finally able to stand back up, stomach feeling a little more stable as you tried not to think about the dying boy lest your nausea return, you twisted to find the person who had come to comfort you.

"Officer Paris." Your words couldn't get any higher than a whisper, and even that cracked, and his hand fell back down to his side as you wrapped your arms around yourself in comfort.

“Saw you take a sudden dash, got a little worried.”

You nibbled on your lower lip, a foul taste lingering in your mouth, and he offered up a water bottle for you, a weak laugh on your lips as you accepted it with a whispered ‘thank you’. As you took deep swigs, forcing yourself not to gulp as you slowed your racing heart, you watched as the fire teams began to load the equipment back into their trucks slowly, all the work they could do having been completed by now, and you knew that there was still a lot of work left for you to do before you’d get to follow after them.

“Everything okay?”

“Not really.” You whispered, screwing the lid of the water back on and holding it to your chest, using the cool liquid within to try and focus your senses. “We’re going to need a coroner down here. I know there’s some up in the building, but we have a kid, he’s not going to make it.”

“I’ll find one for you, okay?”

You appreciated the gentle tone of his voice, lowering your head to rub gently at your temples with one hand. “I should get back, we need to start getting people out of here.”

You could hardly focus as you walked back to your stations, everything seeming to slip from focus into some kind of daze as you tried to focus on what you were doing. You retrieved your bag, scooping it up from the floor and swinging it over your shoulder. There were coloured cards waiting to be collected, torn plastic bases and litters of water bottles in the mud, as well as lost personal belongings that had been forgotten in the rush.

Many people were still crowded around, waiting to be excused and waiting to get rides in an ambulance, the reds fading away into a majority of only green and yellow cards waiting, and you praised your lucky stars that you had only needed to give out one single black card today, because you weren’t sure that you’d even still be standing if there had been any more.

Flexing the fingers of your hand slowly, you focused on the sensation, head rolling from side to side, before your shoulders followed, and you loosened every single muscle you had for a tranquil moment, before setting to work. The sun was already beginning to fade on the day now, moving towards the horizon as the lighting dulled, hours having passed between caring for patients, and your first call was to begin getting people signed off.

Leaving your bag in the flooring of your seat in the ambulance, you collected a stack of forms and papers, as well as pens, taking them with you as you began to make your rounds of anyone who was left. As long as they were sentient enough to fill out discharge forms after you ran a final assessment, you could let them leave on their own as long as they had somebody with them, family or a friend, even just a neighbour or coworker, but it helped to clear out the crowds.

Newt joined you after an hour or so, having done his last assessment with the final patient, all the fire trucks being long since left, leaving police cars and vans scattered around, ambulances coming and going, and you had to ensure not to focus on the black vans with wide embossed lettering that brought a more sombre mood. Newt seemed to sense your pain, because he disappeared for a small while, returning not long after, and as you packed away equipment, the family you’d helped were now gone, the equipment you’d left with them was loaded back into the ambulance, and where words failed you, the look your friend gave you said it all.

He knew how much you’d suffered, he knew it would only cause more pain to go over and gather the equipment once the boy’s body had been cleared, and so he took care of it for you. A crew of policemen were on clean-up, as well as that of volunteers, only the shining lights of headlights and camera crew leftover as the light began to fade into darkness, and the scene was somewhat clean.

Lost belongings were piled into large plastic boxes with the police, and you filled out what felt like a bibles-worth of paperwork with the coroners, signing your name so many time your signature now just looked like a scribble rather than your name, before you were finally collapsing down into the somewhat uncomfortable cushioning of the ambulance’s passenger seat.

Silence took over your both, and as the truck started up, you left your head sway back into the headrest, eyes slipping shut as the rumble of the vehicle lulled you into as much relaxation as you could get.

As the adrenaline began to die down, you were able to feel the ache in your body, the pain that was seeping into every fibre of your body, every nerve and cell, exhaustion taking over. Raising a hand up to cover your mouth as you yawned, Newt chuckled softly, leaning over and patting your knee, before he was changing gears, and twisting on the radio to fill the cabin with the sounds of the classical music radio.

The trucks were parked away neatly within the garage bay when you arrived, the main doors up to anticipate your arrival, but the space was unusually empty, though it was understandable. After cells, members of the team could often be found milling around, sitting at the squad table and chatting, or working over the truck to check and clean equipment, filling the silence with laughter and jokes as they got along, but as you hopped out of the vehicle the second it was put into park, you were met with silence.

The echo of your door slamming shut reverberated around the empty foyer, Newt’s soon following, before he was rounding to your side, a sad look in eyes that normally sparkled brightly, and he let out a sigh. “I’m sorry about the kid. I really thought we were going to make it through the day without a black card today.”

“Did the coroner’s say anything about inside?”

“I didn’t even want to ask. We did everything we could, everybody did.” You swallowed thickly, nodding your head, and letting Newt loop an arm over your shoulders to pull you into his side, your head falling to his shoulder, and dragging your aching feet underneath you as you followed after him towards the locker room. You were stained with dirt, blood and grime, and you hoped the water was hot enough to soothe you and wash away your worries, already thinking about the muscle-relief body wash that you had hidden on the second shelf in your locker. “We could get in touch with the hospital, and see if everybody is okay?”

“You could call that hot doctor.” Newt squeezed you a little, a humourless laugh leaving you as you caught sight of his smirk, little energy to reciprocate the joke, but appreciating the way he lifted the mood nonetheless. “What was his name, again? David, Denny?”

“It’s Derek, and you know that.”

“Derek, that’s right.” He sighed, dreamily as he pushed open the door to the locker room, and the smell of multiple body-washes as well as the lingering heat from steam, signalling that the rest of your team had already been through the room and cleaned themselves up. Grabbing the towel and the bag of toiletries from your locker, you kicked off your boots, flexing your toes as your feet were liberated, and letting your socks follow. You were too lazy to even scoop your clothes up from the floor, stripping down to your underwear before wandering away to the shower, and closing the curtain.

Removing your final garments, you reached a hand back out of the closed stall, dropping them to the floor beside where your towel was hanging up, and twisting on the shower. Across the room, in the men’s showers, you heard Newt let out a loud and dramatic groan, a giggle on your lips as he did.

“I have never appreciated hot water more.”

“Speak your truth, Newt.” You teased, hearing his laugh as you stepped under the stream of water yourself, face tilted up into the spray and eyes closing, letting yourself be ridden of the day’s stresses. You didn’t want to look down, and see the colour that the water would run, you didn’t want to see any of it, the blood or the mud, you just wanted to let it all disappear, without having to acknowledge any of it again. Keeping your eyes closed, you reached for the wash-proof bag, unzipping it and feeling inside, fingers dancing over the bottles within to tell their shape.

Shampoo first, scrubbing through the tresses of your hair to remove the built-up grime, feeling the ponytail you’d put it in all slip away, the dull pain on your scalp soothing as your fingers massaged gently through your hair, pressing into the sore flesh, and you finally let a satisfied noise of your own bubble up. The squeaking of the doors on the other side of the room signified that Newt was finished long before you were, padding of wet feet, and as you moved onto the conditioner, you could faintly hear the slamming of his locker through the water as you washed the strands.

You didn’t hear when he actually left, the thundering of the water as it ran over your heart, the pounding of your own heartbeat inside of your head, but you sensed when he had left, the room feeling a little colder when you were alone. If a few stray tears escaped you to be washed away by the water when you scrubbed down your body and let the herbal soak absorb into your muscles, then nobody had to know, letting them be shed in honour of the boy who’d lost his life while trying to improve it.

You worked slowly and silently, wrapping the towel around yourself, and finding it a little easier to breathe as you wiped a space free in the steamed up mirror with your hand to be able to see. It was like a weight had been lifted from your chest, leaving you able to take your breaths more smoothly, less ragged and strained, and your headache was beginning to fade. You felt better for being clean, your entire body aching but a little more relieved and nowhere near as tense, and you sighed, hands gripping the edge of the sink.

It was hard to forgive yourself sometimes when you lost a patient, it was never easy to watch someone die, but you’d done everything you possibly could to make it easier, and thanks to your team, he’d seen his family before he passed, and that was a blessing that made everything feel easier to bear.

Taking care of your skin and running a comb through the towel-dried strands of your hair, you were almost falling asleep as you dried it. The repetitive humming of the hairdryer was enough to make your eyes close and mind stop spinning, coming to a halt as everything began to slip from consciousness, your muscles feeling heavy for an entirely new reason, and you jerked yourself back away several times.

Following it all, you grimaced at the taste in your mouth, the bitter aftertastes of your physical reaction to the day still lingering, and so you were generous with the dollop of toothpaste you served yourself as you scrubbed lazily at your teeth and rinsed out your mouth. Scooping up your clothes and pulling on your spare set, you shoved everything grubby and used into your bag to take home, swapped with your fresh clothes, but you didn’t get dressed entirely.

Deep down, you knew that Vince wouldn’t mind if you slacked on your uniform just this once, and so for comfort, instead of pulling on another smart button-up uniform shirt, you went for your hoodie instead, the worn logo of your college in the top corner as it faded, a hole in one sleeve that your thumb would fit through, your hair pulled from underneath the collar to sit limply around your shoulders.

You didn’t care for boots, either, two pairs of socks to keep your feet warm, before you were pulling the sleeves down over your hands, and wandering away to the main room, to try and find your team, and seek reassurance and company within their presence. It was unsettling quiet in there too, only the sounds of Newt’s pen tapping on the table as he worked silently on the puzzles in the newspaper, and the sounds of the almost muted television that Thomas was staring at, one of the older ‘Star Wars’ movies playing on the screen, but from the way he was staring at it, you knew his mind was miles away.

There were only seven in the room, including yourself. Gally and Chuck were playing chess at the kitchen counter, Newt doing the puzzles and Thomas watching television, and Brenda was sitting at the other end of the table with Minho, the two of them each with their headphones in and listening to music, but sitting close enough to one another to seek comfort, and your lips flicked up a little, happy for them, taking it at their own pace. You weren’t sure where everyone else was, but logically, you would assume that they would be sleeping the day away.

Moving across the room, you reached immediately for the kettle, ruffling Chuck’s curls as you passed by, and he huffed under his breath, but a smile was on his flushed cheeks as you glanced back at him, a friendly wink for his complaints, before you were filling the tank up under the tap. Once it was clicked on and beginning to boil, you began to search through the cupboards for what you wanted, smiling as the ingredients came together.

Placing a pan on the stove, you flicked the flame onto the lowest setting you could get, and adding milk to the pan to begin to warm through, without boiling over. Opening up a bag of marshmallows, you popped on into your mouth, chewing at the squishy treat happily, and opening up the cupboard filled with assorted mugs, finding your favourite.

As you found the one you searched for, you placed it down on the counter, before another was following, and another, until there were seven mugs lined up in front of you, all mismatching in size and colour, some with pictures, patterns or writing. A generous spoonful of chocolate powder into the bottom of each one, your personal collection of hot chocolate ingredients, but you were willing to share just this once.

With a splash of boiling water, just enough to dissolve the powder, you topped each one up with the milk as soon as it began to froth around the edges, heated all the way through, and leaving a gap at the top. A sprinkle of marshmallows on the surface of the steaming beverage, and a spray of whipped cream into a pretty swirl, you decorated the top of each one with a few more marshmallows and a dash of chocolate dusting.

They weren’t perfect, there were drips of chocolate and cream along the edges, and they certainly weren’t anything you would serve at a restaurant, but as you placed one down in front of both Gally and Chuck, the looks on their faces were more than enough to confirm that they didn’t care about the appearance.

There was surprise on their features, brows raising as they looked between you and the hot beverages, whispered ‘thank yous’ as their fingers wrapped around it, pulling the mugs towards themselves and staring down at them, small smiles taking over. Minho had the same reaction, and Brenda stopped her music long enough to wrap you into a tight hug as you offered one to her, before Newt was sighing out happily, his head rolling back to look up at you when you'd placed a mug down in front of him. He’d given you a cheesy grin, and told you just how much he loved you, before taking a large gulp, and cursing a little as it burned his tongue, but not letting it deter him from repeating the action, and getting a print of whipped cream along his upper lip to be licked away.

Taking the last of the drinks to be given away, you made your way over to the couch. Thomas had seemingly had the same idea as you, a jumper on and the hood pulled up over his head to hide his face, and he jumped as you placed a hand onto his shoulder. You squeezed in apology as he turned to look at you, the sombre look on his face lightening a little bit as he tried to offer you a smile, twisting to face you a fraction more.

Rounding the edge of the couch to hand him the drink, surprise flickered over his features, before he was taking it into two trembling hands, and bringing it up to his nose to sniff lightly. He poked his tongue out, fishing a marshmallow and a scoop of whipped cream from the top, and he hummed contentedly at the flavour.

“Thank you.”

His voice cracked as he spoke, and you hoped the smile on your face didn’t look too pitying, only able to nod your head as he stared up at you, blowing on the steamy liquid as the cream melted, and your fingers rubbed gently at his shoulder where you still held on, before your hand was sliding away, stepping back a little, and his eyes snapped up from the drink to you, brows furrowing, before he was reaching a hand out, wrapping around the wrist that had been closest to him, and bringing you to a halt.

“Will you sit with me? Please?”

“Of course, I will. Let me just go and get my drink, okay?” He paused in releasing your wrist, fingers unwrapping slowly, and he took a sip of his hot chocolate as he settled back into the cushions. Grabbing at your drink, Newt watched as you went, his brows raising as you caught his eye, and you shrugged, the porcelain hot in your hand as you held onto it, almost enough to burn, and you switched to gripping the handle, swirling it a little to mix the melted cream into your drink.

Sinking down into the couch beside him, he shuffled a little closer, your legs folding under you until his thigh was pressing to your knee as you faced him, mug placed down on the table, and he leaned forwards, matching the positions, before he was running a hand over his face, and letting his gaze find your own.

“Are you okay, Thomas?”

“Not really.” He mumbled, looking completely and utterly exhausted, and you felt sorry for him, true empathy surging through you, and propped your head up on your hand, elbow on the back of the couch, as you looked at him. “You know, I think you lied to me. I think you told me what I needed to hear in the moment, but I don’t think it was the truth.”

You sighed, a short exhale as you tried to find words, and his lips flicked up at the sides, head dipping for s second, before he was looking up shaking his head slightly.

“I’m not mad. You knew what was best for me. I needed you, and you didn’t fail me. Thank you.” He whispered, the words just for you, and your lips pursed, feeling a little flustered at the way he stared at you; earnestly, eyes searching your own. “Will you tell me what happened, though?”

“You don’t want that, Thomas.”

“I do. Please, just tell me about the kid.” His request was desperate, and there was a silver lining to the incredibly dark cloud, thunder and lightning swirling within, and he choked down the lump in his throat as your shoulders sagged.

“He went comfortably. He didn’t feel a thing. I promise.” His eyes closed, a shaky breath let out, and his face screwed up a little as he tried to hold in his tears. He sniffled, before letting out a weak sigh, knowing that he was failing, and as he blinked, his lashes came back wet, a large tear falling along pale cheeks, before another was following. “His parents, they saw it on the news. They came right down, and his mother held his hand as he passed. He got to see his siblings, and his mom and dad. He didn’t die alone.”

He let out a weak cry, and you heard the shuffling at the table, the rustling of the papers as Newt moved, but his chair didn’t scrape across the floor yet, clearly waiting to judge whether or not his best friend needed him or not first.

“His dad was so proud of him, Thomas. He was the oldest of four, he was making all of them so proud, and thanks to you, he passed on peacefully.” Honey eyes that were encased with red opened up to meet your gaze, lower lip wobbling a little as he released it from where it was held between his teeth, and in this moment, he was weak. He wasn’t the lieutenant of the team, he wasn’t a leader or a fighter, he was just a man who’d experienced a tragedy. “You saved him, Thomas. You made his last moments something peaceful and meaningful.” You paused, waiting a second longer, letting him calm himself. “He told me to thank you, on behalf of his family.”

“He did?” You nodded, and his lips flicked up at the sides, a hint of a smile. Lifting a hand, you wiped away his tears, brushing your fingers over wet skin, before you were cupping one of his cheeks in your palm, and his eyes fluttered shut, leaning into your touch as he let out a shaky breath. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

He smiled, softly, twisting his head to press more into your touch, and you swept your thumb over his face, tracing soft and damp skin, the pad brushing lightly over the upturned tip of his nose, and his face scrunched up a little at the ticklish feeling. “How do you always know just what to say to make me feel better?”

“I don’t know, it just comes to me, I guess. What you need to hear, it’s always just the truth.”

“Thank you.” He mumbled, lashes fluttering as his eyes remained closed, relaxing into your touch, and the cushions on the other side of you dipped. Glancing over your shoulder, you chuckled a little as Brenda sat down, leaning over to wrap an arm over your waist, her head coming down to rest on your shoulder, and she turned the volume on the movie up, cuddling into you a little as she sought out comfort too, a chuckle on your lips as she did.

You shuffled, sitting to face her a little more, and Thomas moved with you, keeping his face tucked into your hand, before Newt was following. On the other side of the couch, Newt slumped down, patting Thomas on the back lightly, before kicking his feet up on the coffee table, and reaching across to take Thomas’ hot chocolate, the brunette completely unaware of the theft that had taken place. Gally sat in the armchair, and Minho sat on the edge of the couch, arm stretched out along the back of the couch behind Brenda’s head, and Chuck sat on the floor.

Nobody said anything, nobody needed to, as you all simply watched the movie that had been chosen, letting the day be washed away as you served out the rest of your shift, ready to go home, and let a bad day be washed away by many more good days to come. Pulling your hand back for just as second, Thomas let out a noise of discontentment, his eyes cracking open to peer at you, a frown forming on his lips.

Lifting up a little higher, you pushed his hood down, adjusting it around his shoulders carefully, and you could feel his gaze lingering on you as everyone else watched the movie, leaning in just an inch, nothing noticeable, but enough to keep the bubble between you both, and your fingers laced into his hair.

A rumbling of bliss left him as your nails scraped lightly at his scalp, playing lightly with his hair to soothe him, the strands still very faintly damp from his shower, and he simply stared at you, head tipping into your hand as his body began to loosen of tension.

“I got you, Thomas, don’t worry.”

He didn’t respond, the first genuine smile you’d seen since the beginning of the shift being offered to you, his eyes closing, and he lifted a hand to wrap around your wrist delicately, fingers smoothing up along the back of your palm, resting over your hand and holding it lightly as you played with his hair. Turning your head to the movie, your attention was split, between what was happening on screen, and more overwhelmingly, with the intense feeling of belonging that was flooding you, never having felt more welcome than you did right now.

[uwuwriting]

Bakugou and Todoroki w/ future kids but they meet the reader first

Request: I know you just wrote the future kids thing but I never see the reverse scenario happen where the kid meets the reader. But maybe because they're young or the reader isn't with the boi (Bakugou in this case who doesn't have a hero name yet and maybe the reader doesn't either) The kid keeps saying his parents hero names until he finally runs into Bakugou. The kid didn't realize the reader was the mom until they stood next to Bakugou. - anonymous 

I really enjoyed writing the future kids requests mainly because they were the cutest along side some dad requests I got recently. So I chose these two since we don’t have hero names for them and you didn’t specify any characters so yeah. If you want me to write for others please don’t hesitate to ask. Love yaa.💖💖💖

warnings: fluff, some mild panic

Bakugou Katsuki

-You had gone shopping with Tsuyu and Ochako but had parted ways when the girls had been called in from their agencies. 

-Making your way back to the dorms, you were vibin along with your music when you felt a small tug at your pant leg.

-Looking down you were met with a pair of small e/c eyes staring back at you with a few stray ash blonde locks swaying along the autumn breeze. 

-The little figure stared at you for a moment, a poker face adorning his features before he spoke. 

- “Excuse me, do you know where the Ground Zero agency is?”

-You had never heard of such an agency and kneeling down you looked at the small boy.

- “I’m sorry sweetheart but I don’t know an agency by that name. Who are your parents? Maybe we can find them.”

-The boy looked at you with confusion and some irritation sprinkled on top, for a few moments before letting out a sigh and telling you that his parents were pro heroes.

-His mother apparently was on a mission across seas so they couldn’t really contact her  but his dad, the number two hero , Ground Zero  would definitely help. 

-At first you thought that the boy was confused since the number two hero right now was Hawks and you didn’t know anyone by that hero name. 

-And you told the boy that he was wrong but he was adamant, insisting that his daddy was number two.

-When you mentioned Hawks he titled his little head to the side and said rather matter of factly that Hawks had retired long before he was born.

-That was weird to say the least.

-With everything that the boy told you you were beyond confused and you decided to take him to Aizawa, thinking it was the best course of action. 

-Offering the boy your hand he hesitantly took it saying that his mommy always said that he shouldn’t trust strangers. 

- “But you look very familiar so I trust you. Kinda.”

-And with that you walked hand in hand to the dorms with the intention to find Aizawa in his room.

-Along the way however you heard yelling coming from the common room and you mentally prepared yourself for the tantrum that Katsuki must be throwing in there. 

-Halting your steps you leaned down to the boy ready to prepare him for what was to come only to be met with an ecstatic little human chanting ‘daddy’ under his breath.

-His eyes were practically shinning while he was making mini hops here and there, trying to mask his excitement. 

-If you were being honest he reminded you of yourself when you get fired up but his appearance practically screamed Bakugou at you.

-You have had a crush on Katsuki for some time now but you’ve attempted to drown your feelings and save yourself the humiliation and heart break. 

-Key word: attempted.

- “You excited there kiddo?”

-He looked up at you with a large smile on his tiny face.

- “That sounds like my daddy! Mommy always says that shouting might be part of his quirk and every time she says that, daddy and I need to tickle her until she takes it back.”

- “Well if your father is anything like the baka you are about to meet than god help your mother.” you mumbled under your breath, the boy too excited to pay attention to you, as you pushed the door open and stepped inside. 

-You made to walk to Aizawa’s room when his voice boomed through the room. 

- “Oi this isn’t a nursery. What are you doing?” 

- “Shut it Bakugou!’

- “Did you kidnap the kid? ‘Cause it seems that he’s trying to get away from your dumbass.”

-He wasn’t wrong. 

-The boy was trying to leave your grasp that you had unconsciously tightened when you started talking with Bakugou.

-The little boy looked back at you and mouthed ‘That’s daddy!!!’ before prying your hand off of his wrist and running to the couch that Bakugou was sitting. 

-He looked at the child with a scowl on his face, his eyes darting over the boys’ features noticing some resemblances to himself but also some of your characteristics. 

-The kid certainly had his hair and face structure but his eyes, nose and mouth were all you. 

-And don’t get him started on that cute grin he had on his face that was a carbon copy of the one you have. 

-Bakugou hated to admit that he had a crush on you. 

-You had caught his eye when you had roasted him during your first week of school and you two had been bickering back and forth ever since, feelings starting to develop on both sides but neither of you being brave enough to actually confess. 

- “Y/N why the hell is your brother looking at me like that?”

-At that the boy snapped his head to you, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape the grin he adorned just a few seconds ago being replaced by a really confused look. 

- “He’s not my brother, I found him! Now if you’ll excuse us I have to find Aizawa and clear things out.”

-The boy didn’t move an inch as you approached him, his eyes fixated on your face and as you leaned forward to grab him he wrapped both his arms around your neck and manhandled you onto the couch, making you fall on top of Katsuki. 

-The blushes on your faces were legendary.

-The kid was staring at you two and suddenly jumped on top of BOTH of you making Katsuki groan.

- “Mommy, mommy i thought you were in America with auntie Mina! Why did you pretend you didn’t know me? Why is daddy so small? Where are we?”

-Bakugou was staring at the kid shooting question after question as you on the other hand were on the brink of passing out from the word mommy. 

- “Oi, oi slow down. What’s your name shrimp?”

-He looked at Katsuki with a frown before roll his eyes and answering. 

- “Bakugou Tatsuo you old man.”

-They had to bring you to Recovery girl because you passed out and both Bakugou men were panicking.

Todoroki Shouto

-You didn’t know what hit you really. 

-You were lounging outside on your balcony enjoying the view the dorms gave you when you heard shouting from above you before you were frozen in place and a little ball of red hair came tumbling down the ice slide.

-It almost slammed against your glass door but stopped just on time, shaking the frost from the red locks. 

-As the child turned to you, her eyes widened and she quickly let out a string of sorry’s as she defrosted you, messing up her words many times and confusing the r with w.

-It was the cutest thing watching this five year old at best trying to melt her ice, her chubby hands resting on the iceberg as her nose scrunched up in concentration. 

-Eventually the ice melted and you were set free, rubbing your arms for some warmth as you looked at the child on your balcony more closely. 

- “I’m so sorry miss, I didn’t see you!!”

- “Well you were falling from the sky so I find it logical.”

-The little girl fidgeted with her fingers looking around in pure confusion, her lower lip trembling at the unfamiliar scenery in front of her. 

-Despite the clear panic in her gaze she held herself together, dawning a poker face soon after and looking at you straight in the eyes, her gaze feeling awfully familiar. 

- “I’m Rei. Nice to meet you.”

-She extended her hand and you were taken aback from her manners and the fact that you were being owned by a toddler. 

-Taking her small hand in yours you shake it and lead her inside, placing her on your bed and sitting across from her on your chair. 

-You stared at each other for a solid five minutes before you broke the silence with some basic questions. 

-How old she was, how she got here, where are her parents.

- “A kid got his quirk and things got out of hand. But my daddy will know what to do!! He’s a pro hero.”

- “Oh what’s his hero name? Maybe I can take you to him.”

- “Icyhot, he has an agency in the city but I don’t know how to get there.”

-At the sound of that name you were confused again. 

-Icyhot is Bakugou’s way of mocking Todoroki, your long time crush, and as far as you know there is no hero with that name,

-As you looked at the girl again you saw some similarities with Shouto.

-The hair and the poker face along with her quirk and some of her mannerisms scream Shouto.

-Even though her hair was the same color as his, she looked like you when you were around her age.

-Pushing your confusion in the back of your mind you looked at her again. 

- “Is you daddy Todoroki Shouto?”

-You wished that your first time referring to Shouto as daddy would be under him other circumstances. 

- “Yes!! Do you know him??”

-Oh you knew him alright.

-Nodding you sat up and extended your hand to the little girl, who grabbed it with no hesitation, and led her out of your room.

-And so the mad hunt for Todoroki began.

-Along the way Rei would tell you all kinds of stuff and share funny situations that her and her twin sister got themselves into. 

-Apperantly, Rei had a twin sister Ren and a younger sister who was recently added to the family, Ru. 

-You had been running around the school grounds for like an hour and you could feel Rei getting tired as she slowed down after a while. 

-She didn’t complain though. she just kept talking about her family and how her mom stayed at home for the last few weeks. 

-She was the cutest thing you have seen in a fat while and you could say that you were more than jealous of her mother, whoever she was.

-As you rounded a corner your eye caught sight of a head with vibrant red and white hair.

-And there stood Todoroki in all his glory holding a little girl of his own in his arms, this one with snow white hair.

-The moment Rei saw them she made a mad sprint and literally tackled both of them to the ground, the twins hugging each other like they weren’t suffocating Shouto. 

-You rushed to them, kneeling beside Shouto and prying the twins off of him, giving him a weak smile as you helped him up. 

-As you two stood there, the twins looked at you and something clicked.

-Both of them smiled to themselves and hugged you, nuzzling into yor side as Todoroki stared at you. 

-You all agreed to go to Aizawa or Recovery Girl to see how to get them back home.

-As you made your way to Aizawa’s office the twins were whispering to each other not as quietly as they thought. 

- “Mommy is really pretty.”

- “Yeah and daddy has that smile on his face.”

-You both became a blushing mess unbeknownst to them.

-You sure as hell had a lot to talk about after this. 

-And you’d finally get to call him daddy. 

TAG TEAM AY:

@brattyquirks​ , @the-arcana-fan-fic​

[ordinaryschmuck]

What I Thought About "Through The Looking Glass Ruins" from The Owl House

Salutations, random people on the internet who most certainly won’t read this! I am an Ordinary Schmuck! I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons!

When Disney announced episode titles/synopsis for the new season (On a day that left my head SPINNING!), there was one episode that I knew deep down that would cause controversy and discourse amongst the fandom. And that episode was "Through the Looking Glass Ruins." Not because it would be bad, far from it. Instead, because the episode was a Gus episode with a Lumity subplot, that meant that discourse would start as fans decide which story they prefer more. A situation that, might I add, would result in no winners.

Do you prefer the Lumity plotline? Well, guess what! You're a racist who chose to talk about an overrated ship rather than a heavily underrated character who just so happens to be a person of color.

Do you prefer Gus' plotline? Well, guess what! You're a homophobe who decided to shine a light on a character who's underrated for a reason instead of praising a ship that just so happens to involve two girls.

Either side you pick is going to result in making people mad. The only way to avoid that is by explaining in heavy detail that you still enjoyed one side despite preferring the other. Even if you loved both, you'll most certainly have to explain to everyone that you mean it and that you're neither racist nor homophobic. And all I have to say is this: F that.

F that S in the A right now.

Because I, or anybody else for that matter, shouldn't have to explain myself when it comes to saying why I prefer one plot line or the other. I shouldn't have to prevent getting ripped apart by some bulls**t, black and white mentality of people who can't accept that others like a show for different reasons than they do.

You wanna know what I think about "Through the Looking Glass Ruins?" Well, continue reading to find out. You'll have to make your way through spoilers, but it's the only way for you to learn why I consider this episode not worth any discourse that I'm already certain is cropping up.

Now, let's review, shall we?

WHAT I LIKED

The Opening Scene: I'm kind of digging how snappy and to the point these opening scenes are getting. In the span of what has to be less than a minute, we're given all the information we need to know: Gus is insecure about his illusion magic because he accidentally got Willow injured. It's a great way of setting up why Gus wants to prove himself to the Glandus students and a great way of showing how much Willow's friendship means to him. Look at how he's reacting a few days after the incident. He's still mopey and guilty about it, and I feel bad for the little guy.

Gus in General: And while we're already talking about him, let's give this episode a round of applause for giving Gus the spotlight without having him screw over his friends...except for Willow.

"Through the Looking Glass Ruins" really fleshes Gus out much more so than past episodes. As I said, it plays heavily into his own insecurities while proving how he's capable as an illusionist. He's also the best possible outlet to explore more about what illusionist magic can really do. It can't hurt anybody or work well in a fight. Instead, its strengths lie in the act of convincingly tricking others into thinking that something that should be fake is actually real. And Gus got to prove he really is a super witch because of his illusions through a jaw-dropping scene that's as dark as it was enthralling. The fact that he did it all by himself, without the help of an illusion elder who was right there, is honestly even more impressive. A lot of people aren't that interested in Gus as a character, but I feel like, after this episode, he certainly won a few more fans over.

Willow Getting Injured and Missing the Episode: This is a smart move, in my opinion. Willow acts as the voice of reason in the friend group, so if she tagged along with Luz and Gus right away, she would have easily talked Gus out of joining the Glandus kids on a dangerous quest. I love Willow, she's a solid character, but writing her out is really the only way the plot could have progressed.

(I also love that she wasn't mad in the slightest over Gus getting her hurt. She has every right to be, but she also understands that it was an accident, and Gus wouldn't do anything to purposefully hurt her. And that's sweet!)

King’s Prerecorded Message for Gus: That's just adorable. We need more cute friendship moments between these two, DAMN IT!

Gus Being Sick of Luz’s S**t: Of all the characters I expected to get sick of the whole Lumity situation, Gus wasn't really one of them. I'd always thought it'd be Willow, primarily because the rest of the fandom latched onto that idea, but for Gus, I'd figured he'd be more supportive rather than annoyed. That being said, seeing him call Luz out for borrowing his library card to see Amity (Not ask her out. Just to see her) is not only a hilarious moment for Gus but also an adorable moment for Luz. It's something I would never have seen coming, but now that I have it, I want more. GIVE ME MORE!

(Sorry if I'm being a little intense)

Luz Trying to Cheer Up Gus: It's moments like this that prove why Luz is my favorite character.

Willow might have the most common sense out of the group, but it's Luz who still has the biggest heart. She knows her friend is down in the dumps, so Luz pulls out all the stops in cheering him up. Whether it's researching the first-ever human (really surprised he wasn't the tiniest bit excited about that, by the way) and lending him glyphs for his mission to help show up Mattholomule. She may be slow in the romantic relationship department, but episodes like this prove that she excels with a platonic friendship.

Bria: I consider Amar adorably optimistic, and I have no strong feelings for Gavin, one or the other. But with Bria? Holy hell, did the writers do everything they should with her!

At first, it seems like she'll be a generic nice girl for Gus to have a crush on. Only for that writing to be a perfect twist into how she's kind of the worst. You see hints of her true personality in the overly sweet way she threatens to force Amar to eat a bug he gets distracted by. A viewer's initial reaction to that would be to think that while she's sweet, she still means business. But no, it's actually a perfect way to reveal her true intentions while hiding them at the same time. Bria may be rotten to the core, but with how perfectly executed this twist was, I can't help but adore her contribution.

Mattholomule: ...I would sooner expect to have gone insane before believing that this little s**t weasel would make his way onto my good side. Despite that, here we are in episode five of the new season, and I like Mattholomule now.

The reveal that Glandus High forces students to believe that the strong survive and the weak are inferior explains so much for Mattholomule's thirst for power in "Something Ventured, Someone Framed." It doesn't excuse his actions, not by a long shot, but it definitely paints a clearer picture. It also explains his treatment of Gus, as well as Mattholomule's reasoning to help him. Because of Glandus High inserting a "the strong survive" mentality into Mattholomule, he belittles Gus due to thinking that illusion magic makes Gus weak. But after seeing how they're both stooges to Bria's mistreatment, he's quick to apologize and willingly helps Gus out. In the process, the two of them create a believable and cute friendship...a friendship that is absolutely going to be interpreted as something else by the fandom...which is something that I'm more than supportive of--HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?! I WENT FROM ONE OF THE BIGGEST GUSTOLOMULE DENIERS TO ONE OF ITS SUPPORTERS IN LESS THAN A DAY! HOW DO THESE WRITERS MANAGE TO TAKE ELEMENTS THAT WERE ONCE ON MY S**T LIST TO THEN MAKING ME MORE THAN OK WITH THEM!

IT'S INSANE!

Mostly impressive.

BUT ALSO INSANE!

Edric and Emira: More so than ever, I am so happy that the writers took their course correction with Edric and Emira. These two work so much better as supporting characters rather than minor antagonists like several fans thought they would be after their treatment of Amity in "Lost in Language." They're quick to pick up on Luz and Amity's mutual affections for one another and do their part to help their friend and baby sister out. It's wholesome to watch, and, you know what, I'm gonna go ahead and say it: Edric and Emira Blight are much better mischievous twin characters than Fred and George Weasley. As much as I adore Fred and George, there is an issue how they're always referred to as Fred and George, not Fred or George. It's because their personalities are as identical as they are, so separating them is pointless. With Edric and Emira, they have enough individuality that you could enjoy them separately as much as you could seeing them together. Emira is more emotionally supportive in how she listens to Amity vent her frustrations about her feelings, while Edric is more of a doofus who can't take a hint to save his life. It creates a great set of characters who can potentially work well on their own. I hope they get explored more at some point, but for now, I'm happy with the cute moments these two offered already.

Lumity Moments: BUUUUUUUUUUUUT, nothing compares to the cuteness of these two.

I don't care if I'll be called a racist for it because these! Moments! These moments are the highlights of "Through the Looking Glass Ruins" for me! Seeing these two interact in this episode, now that the pining is mutual, was everything I could have ever hoped for, and so much more. Seriously, how can you complain about anything about all of this when you get cute bits like:

Luz getting flustered of seeing Amity with her hair down

Amity risking her job to help Luz

Amity being motivated to find the diary due to the possibility of a date with Luz in the human realm

Luz going through hell and back to get Amity her job back

All of the blushing

And that F**KING KISS AT THE END HOLY SH--Don't you dare think I'm not going to further discuss that. DON'T YOU DARE!

Gus' story was entertaining with how it surprised me in all the right ways, don't get me wrong. But seeing Luz and Amity's relationship develop more and more always fills my heart with glee that, believe it or not, I'm always going to remember it more. I love you, Gus, but I love Lumity more.

Philip Whittabeen: So we finally have a name to the alleged human who was here years ago, and we get properly introduced to him through a really visually appealing animation change. I'm personally curious to see where the writers go with him, but it's too early to say if his inclusion will be worth something. But I will say one thing, though. One thing, and then I'm going to move on.

Here it is:

Philip sounds eerily similar to Emperor Belos to me.

That is all I'm going to say about that.

Luz’s Sentences in Spanish: I want to give a personal shout-out to mi buen amigo @l-egionaire for pointing this out because there are some things to analyze in what Luz says in Spanish in this episode. Knowing what she means, it's clear that they are ideals that Camila instilled into Luz. Ideals that possibly show a lot about Camila's personality on top of revealing where Luz got her hopeful optimism and sense of determination. It's the second sentence that Luz says later on that I really want to delve deep into:

"Nada funcionará a menos que lo haga funcionar."

Translated, that means "Nothing will work unless you make it work." Again, this proves the dedication that Luz has filled into her soul, but to me, it says a lot about Luz's dedication to Amity. She wants to make this relationship work but fully understands that it won't unless she puts in the effort. It's a sweet sentiment that says so much about how Luz feels about Amity that some fans might not be able to pick up on if they don't speak Spanish. Or, in my case, have a good friend who finds the translation for you (thanks again @l-egionaire).

The Galderstones: Pretty interesting concept, I'm not going to lie. It's also interesting that of all the types of witches in the Boiling Isles, it was illusionists who were the ones that guard over the Galderstones. Because illusion magic can't really harm anyone, it makes a weird type of sense that they would be the ones to keep the Galderstones out of the wrong hands. And, even better, it showcases Gus' strength as an illusionist when he was able to take down Bria, who was hopped up on Galderstone power, through that same "harmless" magic. It just goes to show that if you have a big enough brain, you don't need to overpower somebody. You need to outthink them.

Malphus Being a Surprisingly Cool Dude: What can I say? I'm a sucker for expectation subversion.

Luz and Amity Crying: First of all, a HUGE round of applause to VAs Sarah-Nicole Robles and Mae Whitman through their vocal performances in this scene! They really sold how upset and broken apart Luz and Amity were due to their feelings for each other messing things up. More so with Sarah-Nicole.

Second, this might be the closest these two have gotten to a confession so far ("so far" being the keyword). I specifically latch onto Amity's expression after hearing Luz agree that she's always weird around Amity. In one way, it looks like Amity is surprised to see she made Luz cry, but in another, it could be that she realizes that perhaps that Luz has feelings for her as well. Or, at least, that's how I interpreted things. The thing about art is that there's no one interpretation to agree on. And that's what this scene is: Art. It's performed, written, and animated well, that no matter how you look at it, it's a masterpiece.

“I’ll call the hounds”: One line. One line was all it took for me to love the Keeper of the Looking Glass Graveyard.

Amity Dyes her Hair: I always assumed that Amity would let her original hair color grow out as defiance to Odalia. But dying it lavender? Thus crafting her own identity without having her be compared to either Odalia or Alador?

...yeah, that's brilliant. Whoever thought of that, you are a genius and deserve all of the credit that comes from it.

ALL of the credit.

Amity Kisses Luz on the Cheek!: I'll save my "Wha-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo" for an actual kiss, but for now, THIS IS AWESOME!

This moment, much like other Lumity moments, was everything I could have ever expected and so much more:

Amity's instant panic after realizing she seriously just did that

Ed and Em looking fondly at their sister taking such a big step

The look on Luz's face, which may or may not hint that she realizes that the feelings are more than mutual

And the fact that Luz's legs give out soon after Amity leaves

It was adorable as all forms of hell, and it was a perfect way to end such a perfect episode...or, at least, an almost perfect episode. I do have some issues.

WHAT I DISLIKED

Mattholomule Helping Gus too Easily: The Glandus kids were right there, in-ear and eye-shot, yet did nothing as Mattholomule effortlessly helped Gus and the Keeper escape...how?

Gavin falling for Gus’ Illusion: I want to laugh at how stupidly easy that was...but it's too stupidly easy for me to forgive.

And that’s about it. Just two nitpicks that don’t really take away that much enjoyment from the episode

IN CONCLUSION

"Through the Looking Glass Ruins" keeps Season Two's winning streak going by being another solid A. It fleshes out characters, develops cute relationships, and keeps the story going despite being so character-driven. It's easily more than worth the time...but it's not worth any discourse that comes from some fans preferring one plot over the other.

I highly doubt that some people are racist for loving the Lumity plotline or homophobic for loving Gus'. Maybe some people are, but also consider that maybe, just maybe, a person loves a ship because it's their favorite, or a person likes a character cause he's their favorite.

Which.

Is.

Fine.

There's no definitive way to like a series, and demanding that people like it for the same reasons you do is not worth anything. Because, believe it or not, even Dana Terrace doesn't care how people love her show. In the AMA she did, when a fan asked if she's upset about fans obsessing over Amity's crush on Luz, this is her word for word reaction:

"Not at all! No, the main focus of the series will never be on any romantic thread but that doesn't mean those threads aren't important. And I'm thrilled that people connect to our characters!"

THERE YOU HAVE IT! The creator herself fully admits that she doesn't care what fans latch onto. She's just glad to have people who like the show in the first place! So don't create discourse just because some people enjoy a part of an episode more than others. The second you get that through your heads, the sooner we can all move on with our lives.

(Also, that's five episodes in a row that are hits. And, man, is that stinker going to hit harder because of it.)

[angstyaches]

my fatal flaw is loving fluff more than whump, but i love whumpy nightmare scenarios…? so…what about charlie having a bad nightmare again, either due to being sick or resulting in getting sick, and being so distressed that he has to call shayne? the reverse scenario (shayne calling charlie) would also be so good but i feel like he’d be more hesitant to do that 🤧 i’m imagining lots of shaking and shaky breathing and self-loathing remedied just a little with some physical comfort? like being held idk. ANYWAY this is my request hehe

I spent ages trying to figure out a scenario where Charlie could call Shayne and Shayne could actually get to him, but when they’re apart, it’s hard for Shayne to spontaneously decide to go to Charlie’s. I could have swapped Shayne in for the sickie but I wanted to do Charlie. Sooo, the comfort is mostly verbal, although Charlie recalls physical comfort from the past. I'm sorry if it's not what you had in mind! Feel free to request more nightmare whump anytime, because I adore it.

The events of this fic are referenced (sorry for the first-person POV lol I was trying something out when I started this blog)

CW: nightmare, emeto, crying, anxiety, brief referenced past violence and blood.

___

It was the middle of the night, and the only thing Charlie could hear was the sound of the toilet tank refilling. That, and the tiny gasps that escaped him every now and then as he tried to catch his breath.

His stomach muscles were practically on fire from clenching, and he was still getting his breath back as he leaned against the side of the bath and held his phone to his ear.

The light bounced against the tiles and burned his eyes, but it was better than the dark. The dark had sprouted wings in his dream, along with a set of claws.

Charlie gasped and shook his head, burying it quickly between his knees and trying to get the image out of his head. His spine felt like his skin was crawling all over it.

“Charlie?”

His heart felt like it was going to slip up his throat at the sound of Shayne’s voice on the phone. He had to clamp a hand over his mouth to stop himself from whimpering with sheer relief. He hadn’t quite acknowledged it, but part of him had been terrified that Shayne wouldn’t answer the phone at all.

He’s okay…

“H-hey.” Charlie cringed at how badly his voice was shaking, and it echoed against the empty bathroom shelves just like his retching and coughing had done a few minutes ago. “I’m – I’m sorry.”

“Hmm? What’re you sorry for?” Shayne mumbled on the other end of the phone.

“You were probably sleeping, I – I just…” Charlie rubbed at his eyes, desperate to get them dry. Nausea was still trickling lightly through his stomach, and he wondered if he’d have to rush back to the toilet bowl sometime soon.

“What’s wrong, what happened?”

“I got sick…” Charlie pulled his legs up to his chest, resting his forehead against his bare knees. His voice almost disappeared completely down his throat. “I… don’t feel well.”

“Shit. I thought you were finished with all that.”

It took Charlie a moment to realise that Shayne was referring to the food poisoning Charlie had accidentally given himself (and Rin) the day before yesterday.

He swallowed thickly, pulling a face at the memory. He’d felt so much better before going to bed; in fact, he’d been starving, his body feeling hollow and achy after purging itself for a day and a half. He’d cooked an entire bag of chicken nuggets from the freezer, made himself four slices of toast, finished off a tub of Ben and Jerry’s, and had gone to bed feeling blissfully better.

He struggled to find a way to gently tell Shayne that the problem that had woken him at 4am had less to do with his stomach and more to do with his brain.

Although the amount of heavy food in his belly admittedly may have contributed somewhat.

“Charlie, you okay?”

He started a bit, realising he hadn’t replied in a while. “I’m – no. Not really,” he whispered, a sharp sob jerking his ribs and scraping at his throat.

“Put me on the, um, the video thing.”

The phone jingled beside Charlie’s ear, telling him that Shayne was requesting a video call. Charlie made an attempt to clean his face off with his pyjama top before accepting it, propping the bottom of his phone against his knee.

“You know, you sound sixty when you call it ‘the video thing’,” he said, trying to sound upbeat.

“Really?” Shayne narrowed his eyes into a glare as soon as he appeared on Charlie’s screen. “Would you say that to my face if it was actually this close to you?”

Charlie managed a weak smile. Some of the tension bled out of him just at the sight of his boyfriend and his sleepy brown eyes. His chin wobbled uncontrollably as emotions swelled in his belly and chest. “I wish it was this close to me.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” Shayne folded one arm behind his head and leaned back against his pillow. His room was mostly dark, but he seemed to be lying on his back. “Wait, are you real-crying? Not just throwing-up-crying?”

Charlie sighed shakily, rushing to rub away the tears that had sneaked up on him. He felt his lips quiver as he tried to keep the smile from turning into a grimace.

“Did you have a bad dream?”

Charlie gulped and nodded. “How could you tell?”

“Give me some credit. I feel like I know you pretty well by now.”

Charlie’s eyes were drawn towards the shrunken image of himself in the top-right corner of the screen, and tried to hold back even more tears. In his own – admittedly warped – opinion, he looked about as disgusting as he felt. He hated that he felt trapped in front of the camera, forcing Shayne to look at him in this state.

“Charlie,” Shayne murmured, his eyes softening in the light of his bedside lamp. “Talk to me, yeah?”

“They’re get – they’re getting worse,” Charlie breathed, burying his face in one hand. It felt a little silly to keep his phone held steady in the other, camera trained on himself even as he covered his eyes and wept, but he didn’t want to cast Shayne aside either. He peered out over the top of his hand, still covering his mouth to try to keep the volume under control.

“I know, but they’re just dreams, remember? They’re not real.”

A gag pulled at Charlie’s throat and he had to shut his eyes. But it was real…

“Deep breaths,” Shayne said, his tone in complete contrast to Charlie’s sobs. “You want to count back from ten with me? Sometimes I need some help. I can get to nine, and then I just get confused.”

Charlie almost laughed through the tears. He wondered if he should have been insulted by Shayne’s attempt to use Charlie’s own method on him. He decided to humour him though, rasping out numbers while thinking that it would never work because he was thinking too hard about it, but by the time they got to zero, he was able to take a breath without his chest hitching.

Shayne said nothing for a few seconds, watching to see what Charlie would do next. He frowned when Charlie shuddered harshly, making the picture wobble.

“You cold?”

Charlie nodded.

“Then go get into bed, idiot.”

He did his best to keep his phone elevated as he walked, but in his exhausted state, Charlie probably gave Shayne a prime view of the stubble under his chin as he made his way back to bed. He shakily propped his phone on the nightstand, next to Vincent the teddy bear, and went to grab a fresh t-shirt from the drawer. He’d sweat through the one he’d fallen asleep in, ruining it even before it had vomit and tears on it.

He finally crawled into bed, his stomach letting out a hollow, unhappy groan as it settled into the new position. Charlie groaned too, reaching out to take his phone in his hand again. He hated how the bedside light made his face look haggard and washed-out.

“All good?” Shayne asked.

“All good,” Charlie slurred, his eyes drooping already. “I miss you, though.”

“I miss you too, love.”

Charlie pulled his blanket tightly around himself, keeping one arm outstretched with his phone so that he and Shayne could still see one another. His sheets had cooled down a lot since he’d flung himself out from between them earlier, and after crouching on the tiles for so long, it was nice to be surrounded by something soft and pleasant.

Shayne tilted his head slightly as they both lay in silence for a moment, just looking into each other’s eyes through their cameras. “How’s the nausea?”

“A little better,” Charlie sighed. “My tummy just kind of hurts.”

Shayne clicked his tongue. “Fuck. I wish I was there with you right now.”

“No.” Although his chest panged with longing for the same thing, Charlie shook his head. “You’re better – you’re safer there, and I don’t –”

The whoosh of dark, leathery wings in the night and the splatter across the hardwood flashed in Charlie’s memory. In the dream, the blood had been Shayne’s; Charlie had watched as Watson had torn his heart right out of his chest before dragging the rest of him away into the sky.

In reality, the blood had been mostly Charlie’s; he’d cut his hands on the broken glass left behind by Watson’s exit through the window.

“Lately, I just…” Charlie swallowed sickly. “I can’t stop thinking about that – that night, remember? When Watson came to my room to find you?”

Shayne fell silent for a moment, seemed to shift position slightly. “Mmhmm.”

“I was dreaming about – about that, but… worse.”

“He won’t come for you,” Shayne said. He seemed like he was gritting his teeth. “If he or Madelyn even try to get near that house, they’ll –”

“I know.” Charlie chewed the inside of his lip. He ducked his face below the blanket and quickly dabbed at fresh tears that were starting to form. “But I was so… I was so useless, Shayne, I knew I could have stopped him, but I didn’t, I was frozen solid, I –”

“Ssshhh…” Shayne whispered, the sound crackling gently through the phone’s speaker. “Charlie, love, come out.”

Teeth chattering in his head, Charlie sniffled from under the blanket.

“Please, I want to see you.”

When he crinkled the blanket into his fingers and revealed just the top half of his face to the camera again, Charlie wished he hadn’t gone into detail about the dream at all. Not only did he look like a mess, now he sounded like one, too. He felt himself blush when Shayne’s eyes lit up on the screen, realising Charlie had come out from behind the blanket.

“You know what I think of when I think of that night?”

Charlie swallowed thickly, shaking his head.

“I think about the way you let me fall asleep on your bed, even though I was being an asshole to you.”

He couldn’t help nuzzling his head against the pillow where Shayne’s head had been that night, while Charlie had sat lengthways with Shayne’s legs across his lap. He’d had crazy butterflies in his stomach, barely able to believe that his crush had shown up in the middle of the night, unconsciously looking for comfort from him.

“It was the first night we fell asleep together, too,” Shayne said.

Without realising it, Charlie had slid one hand around the side of his own neck, fingers running lightly through the hair at the back of his head. Shayne had never touched him before that night either, but he’d ran his fingers through his hair as though he’d been doing it for years. Light shivers of pleasure trickled over Charlie’s skin. The panicked pounding in his chest was starting to slow. “That’s true...”

“You’re anything but useless,” Shayne murmured, turning onto his side and adjusting the angle of his phone. His eyes were starting to close. “I think that’s what my point was. I forgot.”

Charlie gave a light, breathy laugh which was cut off by a deep yawn. He hid his face from the camera again, to avoid giving Shayne a view of his tonsils this time. By the time he looked at the screen again, Shayne was struggling to keep his eyes open, but neither of them said anything.

They never found out whose phone dropped out of whose hand first.

[dzamie-oc]

05 - Space

Space prompt, eh? A good a time as ever for some hammer-space dragon! Featuring Sylvia, the loveliest little gold dragoness in the Dragonslayer Guild Hall.

Length: 2200 words Rating: M (noncon vore. Not sexual, but it’s still noncon and vore) Summary: Victoria, a dragonslayer in training, learns an unforgettable lesson about how hammerspace dragons work, and perhaps about assuming mundane explanations around fantastical creatures.

Minors DNI with this particular story. I am hella uncomfortable with the idea of y’all openly interacting with vore.

-----

“Hey, Sylvia, any chance I could borrow a gold coin? Need to test the magical affinity of this thing to some elements, and gold’ll do just fine,” the cheetah asked the little golden dragon perched on his shoulder. “Y’know, before I permanently affix the actual part.”

“Yeah, gimme a second. Hand, please.”

Behind them, Victoria watched the pair work - or, well, she watched Dzamie work, while Sylvia mostly just watched him from closer. She had initially stopped by to ask the katul about one of his swordwork lessons, but he seemed busy, so she was fine waiting... for ten minutes longer, maybe. A bit more if she thought she’d get to cuddle the adorable little dragoness. Yes, time and time again, Dzamie himself had repeated that every dragon can kill an incautious slayer, and it was almost always in reference to Sylvia, but the woman found it hard to take it seriously. Not that she’d ever say it aloud. Even if it turned out not to be true, Sylvia seemed to take pride in her rumored “danger,” and Victoria liked the little lady too much to rain on her parade.

A loud hiss filled the air, then Dzamie waved a gold coin in his hand back and forth, steam rising up from his paw and the coin. “What’s he doing that does that?” the human asked herself, aloud.

Dzamie, however, was the one to respond, without looking up. “Oh, fire spells come easy to me, so I use ‘em to quickly dry off stuff Sylvia gives me. Gives the workshop a certain smell, but it’s not really enough drool to bother humans.” His voice dropped to a mutter as he looked over his work, then nodded and spoke up again. “Yeah, that’ll work. But, yeah, if you ever catch me after a swim, I do the same thing to myself - just, with a silencing spell when there’s people around.”

Having been unofficially invited into the conversation, Victoria walked closer. The katul was working on what looked an awful lot like a gun from a video game. “Huh, forgot you did cosplay,” she remarked, “and, wait, why would what she gave you be wet?”

Two pairs of eyes swung to look at her, one tiny and yellow, one more her size and, well, also yellow, but with a purple aura around them that soon cleared. “I trust him to return items from my hoard,” Sylvia said, “and, naturally, anything I don’t bag up for protection gets wet.”

Victoria looked around, trying to find where the little dragoness might have put a hoard that she could somehow reach from Dzamie’s shoulder, to no avail. Luckily for her, Sylvia easily read the human’s face, smiled, swished her tail, and said, “Hmm, tell you what. You’re nice enough to me, good enough pets and all that.”

“Oh, is she the other one who’s been giving you strawberries?” Dzamie asked. He was looking back at the prop again, where a finger wreathed in green fire poked at a floating spell circle of the same color.

Sylvia huffed. “Anyway! Would you like to see my hoard, Victoria?” The golden dragoness sat up as tall as she could to deliver her next line, “just be aware that if you try to steal from me, your life is forfeit.”

Any tiny, intimidating effect she might have had was immediately discarded as her furry, feline perch moved his arm and sent her tumbling onto the table. In spite of herself, Victoria laughed. “Sorry, sorry!” she said, “it’s just, the timing. I would love to see your hoard, Sylvia. Assuming it’s not just that coin. Uh, no offense, you’re just, well, you-sized.”

Dzamie interrupted again, muttering “alright, let’s see if this doesn’t explode this time” as he picked up his project in one hand. “And Victoria, pop quiz! Zero percent of your grade. What species of dragon is this adorable golden derg?”

“Don’t call me a derg.”

“Adorable golden dragon,” the cheetah amended. The device in his hand whirred and glowed with his green magic, and successfully failed to explode, at which he gave a satisfied “heh.”

Victoria leaned against one of the other tables, trying to recall. “She’s a... hammer-something. Not hammerhead, hammer... hammerspace!” she said with a confident smile.

Dzamie nodded. “Fantacular. Just making sure you might know what you’re in for.” He turned to Sylvia. “I’m gonna go test this out proper. Back in a few.”

The dragoness on the table walked over to the edge and sat down, facing Victoria. “Okay, then, just set your sword... somewhere and give me your hands.” As she did so, unsheathing the weapon and laying it flat, Sylvia continued, “I never figured out whether it’s easier for you if I go slow or fast, but I like slow, so I’m gonna go slow.”

“Oh, and you’ll want to ditch the rest of your armor,” Dzamie added, gesturing to her with the toy gun, “trust me on this, it’s uncomfortable and then you just have to clean it unnecessarily.”

Victoria glared at him. “Sure, Teach, let me just strip down right in front of a male katul all alone in this room.”

Dzamie passed his prop to his other hand, then held up his fingers as he counted off, “okay, one, Sylvia’s here with us; two, just because I fit the stereotype doesn’t mean you should use it; and three-” he lifted his project, “- the only reason I’m coming back here in the next half hour is if this thing explodes on teleport. ...which you better not,” he muttered at the prop. Then, with a snap of his fingers, he was gone.

For a solid minute, Victoria stared at the spot he’d vanished, almost daring him to teleport back in. Sylvia coughed to get her attention. “He’s not wrong, though. I don’t know about armor maintenance, but usually people prefer to be in comfortable clothes.” The little dragoness turned her head away and flicked her tail back and forth. “If, uh, if they wear any, but people like that are few and far between. Look, it is pretty cramped on the way to my hoard, but I’d be an awful friend if I insisted you get rid of things that aren’t weapons.”

“Things that aren’t weapons?”

The golden dragon gave her a flat look. “Can you really blame me, a dragon, for not trusting dragonslayers with weapons?”

“Fair point.” Victoria sighed. After a moment more of internal debate, she started to remove her armor. She asked Sylvia for some help, and before long, she stood before the hammerspace dragon in a sports bra and athletic shorts, glad that her friend was a dragon and not a katul, or a human.

Sylvia looked her up and down; Victoria jokingly asked if she thought she was hiding knives or something. “I... already checked, actually. Just thought dragonslayers wore something more underneath. Laundry day?”

The human grimaced. “It’s done, just... I wasn’t thinking earlier. Er, so, hands?”

“Hands!”

Victoria tentatively held her hands out in front of Sylvia, who pressed them together with her little paws. She brought her muzzle right next to the woman’s fingers, then looked up and said, “just so you know, I’m not letting you back down from this.” Before Victoria could ask what she meant by that, the dragoness opened her jaws and lunged forward.

She could hardly believe her eyes. Her arms looked just fine all the way down to her wrists, but there... they simply weren’t. Sylvia’s snout started, and her arms stopped. Her hands were surrounded by something warm, squishy, and wet, and when she tried to move them or pull them apart, they were pressed back in on each other. Then, a wave of pressure rolled down the hidden hands, and Victoria watched as more of her forearms also shared her hands’ plight. She wiggled her hands more, but there was no change. It took a few seconds for her mind to finally piece it all together: Sylvia was eating her. Somehow.

Another swallow pulled her elbows in, locking her arms out straight. In the back of her head, Victoria knew that she really ought to be panicking, that being eaten by a dragon was something she should not be going calmly into. But still, even as she bent over to the table, leaning down towards the dragon’s tiny body, it was hard to really take it seriously. After all, if she turned her head, she could see that not one of Sylvia’s scales were out of place, so CLEARLY the tiny dragon couldn’t be swallowing her.

A moment later, and she no longer had that problem. Her head was buried deep in somewhere dark pink, surrounded by hot, wet flesh, and any time she moved her arms or twisted her head, all she heard was wet “shlrk”s and squishes as she was guided back into position. The dragoness’s next swallow came more quickly, as though anticipating the human’s reaction:

Now that her eyes were no longer trying to tell her she wasn’t being eaten, Victoria came to the obvious conclusion: her friend had betrayed her trust for a meal. However, she found that she wasn’t scared, or terrified. Be it her own natural inclinations, or her, admittedly incomplete, training as a dragonslayer, Victoria instead found rage. With a primal yell, she twisted and turned, thrashing her arms to try to choke or even gag Sylvia, and she kicked one knee up, trying to feel her way into slamming into the tiny trickster. Unfortunately, the next thing she felt was her knee pinned against her belly, joining the rest of her upper body in the tight, slimy tunnel. Dragon drool got in her mouth, so she spat and sputtered as her hips, shorts, and other thigh were engulfed by the irrationally long throat. Between the heat, the steady, almost soothing noises of wet throatflesh squishing against her skin, the humid, heavy air, and simple exertion, Victoria soon found the fight slip away from her. Ankle-deep in what she thought was a very small dragon, the human sighed and let Sylvia close her jaws after her foot without a struggle.

When her head pressed against the ring of muscle, Victoria had resigned herself to her fate as dragon food. After all, the only person who knew where she was was Dzamie, and that katul would probably demand something-

Her head ran into something solid, and a clattering sound entered her ears, rather than just the constant squelching of wet flesh. Victoria opened her eyes, then sat up and- well, sat up, brushed her hair and Sylvia’s drool from her eyes, and then really opened them to see...

A pile of assorted coins, gold, silver, bronze, and more, bars of precious metals, gems of many colors, piled up nearly as tall as Victoria, herself! A trio of abstract sculptures - possibly part of a set, Victoria reasoned, though one could never really tell with that much abstraction. And, for some reason-

“So, how is it? I’m glad you calmed down eventually,” came Sylvia’s voice from all around.

“There’s... a train engine...” was all Victoria could say.

The little dragoness laughed. “Haha, yeah! One of my earlier additions, actually. I bet every hammerspace dragon does one of those, ‘okay, but CAN I eat that?’ things; I just decided to keep mine for a while, as a trophy, and over time, well, it’s a bit sentimental now.”

“You ATE and KEPT an ENTIRE TRAIN OUT OF THE-?!” the human shouted, dumbfounded, then faltered. “Uh, what’s it called, train house?”

Another laugh. “No, no, I ate a MOVING train - well, just pulling out, not that fast - and kept the engine car. The passenger car and all the delicious treats within are years gone.” There was a pause, and then. “Don’t worry, though. I’m much nicer these days, keep myself in the green zone.”

Victoria sighed, crawled over to the vehicle, and climbed into a seat. “Well, as far as places to die go, this place at least looks nicer than I expected.”

“Die? Who said anything about that? I’m not letting you stay in my stomach, you’ve got stuff to learn and I’ve got strawberries to eat, given only to dragons who DON’T have anyone stewing away in their bellies. ...willing meals notwithstanding.”

Another sigh, though this time of exasperation. “Sylvia... stomachs digest organic material. I am an organic material. I just hope I pass out before the pain gets to me too much.”

This time, there was raucous laughter, followed by a shriek and a swear. “Uh, sorry, fell off the table. You should attend more dragon biology lessons. And/or ask Dzamie for some notes, though if you do, prepare to have an entire encyclopedia dumped on you. Unabridged.”

“I’m safe?”

“You’re the biggest danger to yourself in there. Don’t smash yourself in the head with a sculpture and you’ll be fine.”

Victoria’s mind was still reeling. Nearly half a dozen earthshaking revelations in only a few minutes was not an easy thing to deal with. “And... you’ll let me out when I ask?”

“Or in half an hour. I want strawberries and that’s when there are strawberries. Oh, but make sure you aren’t holding anything when you come back up, or you WILL be eaten again, and it WON’T be to see all my shinies.”

This time, Victoria decided to take her threat seriously. And she had more reason to not “rain on her parade” about being a deadly maneater.

[oikawaplssteponme]

PART 4 | previously: part 3 | masterlist

pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x fem! reader

ratings/warnings: swearing, mention of violence but there isn’t any

synopsis: When UA’s hot heads, Katsuki Bakugou and you, are forced to put your hatred for each other aside and plan the third year Prom, things end up getting a little heated...

a/n: hi friends!! okay so this part is a little longer but it’s important for what’s to come ;) because i just couldn’t help myself, there’s a little song reference in there, hopefully you catch it,, maybe it’s important *wink wink* anyways, taglist is open so just lmk if you’d like to be added 🖤 enjoy xx

•

Four: it’s what’s on the inside that counts

It’s been over 2 weeks since your fight with Bakugou. The two of you haven’t spoken since, leaving your classmates a bit nervous. You were stubborn and so was he. The only problem was, neither of you really remembered why you were fighting in the first place. You two fought often, that was obvious, but something about this last fight felt different. As if you and Bakugou genuinely wanted to hurt each other. In the past, it was mainly for your own satisfaction just to fight someone. You and Bakugou had disliked each other for so long that you couldn’t even think of a solid reason for why you hated him. You soon came to realize that you barely knew anything about Katsuki Bakugou...and that bothered you.

~

“LISTEN UP! Prom tickets will be on sale after school today in the common area. You can also buy them at the door but just know they’ll cost more. So I recommend you have your money ready and get in line early because I only have a certain amount for presale. Thank you that’s all!” You announced to your class. “Oh and pass this information onto the other classes please!”

You hopped down from the desk where you were standing and brushed your skirt down.

“Do you need help setting up?” asked Deku. You looked over at Bakugou, who was supposed to be helping you but since the two of you weren’t on speaking terms, that wasn’t really an option.

“Uh sure that’d be great,” you said.

“I’ll lend a hand as well,” chimed in Iida. You laughed.

“Guys all I need help with is moving a table and a few boxes,” you explained.

“We are happy to help!”

You, Deku, and Iida set up the ticket selling table. You placed the poster of the dance in front of the table. Izuku grabbed the box of tickets and looked through them.

“Y/N did you make these?” He asked. Your face got warm.

“Uh yeah, it’s not a big deal though,” you insisted.

“It’s excellent artistic work Y/N! You should be proud!” smiled Iida.

“Yeah it’s super cool!”

“Thanks guys,” you gushed. You sat down at the table and pulled out your notebook and pen.

“Alright! Who wants the honor of buying the first ticket?”

“You should, after all you planned the dance,” said Deku. You smiled.

“I guess you’re right.” You picked up the first ticket, wrote your name next to the #1 spot in your notebook, and put your money in the cash box.

“Okay. Who’s next?”

~

The line of people never seemed to end. You got in the groove of writing down their name, number, and putting away the money pretty quickly.

“Hey Momo! Uh you’re number 35,” you said to your classmate.

“Thanks, here you go!” She smiled, handing you the money.

“Y/N!!” cheered Mina, “wait is this the theme?” Mina pointed to the design on the tickets.

“Uh yeah it is,” you smiled.

“‘My Emotions Feel Like Explosions When You’re Around’,” read aloud Deku.

“I LOVE IT!! It’s super cute and honestly I would expect nothing less from you and Bakugou!”

Right. Bakugou.

“Uh yeah. I'm excited to see how it turns out once we get all the decorations.”

“Do any of you have dates yet?” asked Denki as he paid.

“Wow Denki is that your only concern?” laughed Jirou.

“I haven’t even thought about that,” said Iida.

“Planning on asking anyone?” You asked aloud.

“I am…” mumbled Deku.

“Wow Izuku wonder who?” said Kirishima sarcastically.

“Who are you gonna ask, Deku?” You asked. No one said anything. You turned around and saw all your friends staring at you.

“What…it was just a question…”

“Wait, you're like genuinely asking?” laughed Denki, “I thought it was obvious.” Deku hit Denki’s arm.

“It’s fine, it will be better if it’s a surprise anyway,” said Deku.

“Do you want someone to ask you, Y/N?” asked Sero, handing you his money. You put the cash in a box.

“I honestly don’t care. I wasn’t even planning on going to Prom before Aizawa forced me to plan it,” you admitted.

“Well we are all glad you’ll be there,” smiled Iida.

~

Your friends had all gone back to their dorms after a bit. There were still about 20 people in line for tickets and you were exhausted.

“Cafeteria closes soon dumbass,” said someone. You whipped around. You groaned.

“Well Katsuki, I’m kinda busy if you can’t tell,” you huffed.

“Go eat. I’ll finish up here,” he said. Your eyes grew.

“Wait what-”

“Go on, you only have 15 minutes before they close dinner. I've got this,” he insisted. You got up from your chair.

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

“It can’t be that hard if you figured it out.”

You rolled your eyes

“Whatever. Just pick up when you’re done.” You began to walk down to the cafeteria.

Two weeks of not talking to me and that’s all he has to say?

“Grabbing some dinner?” called Iida behind you. You smiled.

“Yeah , Bakugou is finishing up the ticket sale.”

“Nice. I’ll join you.”

“Thanks Iida.”

~

“Cold soba?” questioned Iida, “You never get your soba cold.” You looked down at your tray of food.

“I guess Todoroki converted me,” you joked. Iida raised a brow.

“Alright Y/N, what is it? We both know you hate cold food,” he said. You picked at your soba.

“I’m fine honestly,” you mumbled.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with Bakugou, would it?” You whipped your head to look at Iida.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?”

“That’s more like it!” He smiled. You chuckled.

“Well would it?” He asked. You shrugged.

“I guess this whole dance is stressing me out. Bakugou and I haven’t been very productive lately ,” you admitted. Iida sighed.

“Well this might be a stretch but you could try to make peace with him.” You groaned.

“I’m not making peace with that angry pomeranian until he apologizes.”

“Why can’t you just apologize?”

“BECAUSE I-I, I don’t know. My own stupid pride I guess.”

“You two need to overcome your differences eventually. Who knows, you guys might have more in common than you think,” smiled Iida.

“You’re the worst, you know that,” you joked.

“Wait really?”

“Iida…”

~

After dinner, you laid in your dorm room, staring up at the ceiling. You knew you should get some of the planning done but you also would rather just forget about the stupid dance. After about 10 minutes of contemplating, you headed down to the basement.

As you walked down the stairs, you remembered that Bakugou still had your notebook. You went down anyway, hoping to get some work done on your laptop instead. Much to your surprise, the door was propped open. You took a deep breath and prepared yourself for what could be behind the door.

“Hey Bakugou…” your voice trailed off as you saw that no one else was in the room.

He must’ve left the door open so I wouldn’t ask him for the keys.

You set down your things and sat down on one of the tables. You pulled out your laptop.

“I figured I’d find you here,” A raspy voice said. You looked up to see none other than Katsuki Bakugou, holding your notebook.

“Oh hi. I just thought I’d get some work done,” you explained.

“How’d you get in?”

“Uh you left the door open,” you explained. Bakugou huffed. He took a seat at the same table as you, setting down your notebook.

“Here dumbass.” Bakugou threw something on you and it landed on your head.

“What the-” You grabbed the soft material off of your head. Your eyes grew.

“Katsuki-”

“You said I owed you a new shirt, so here it is,” he said. You looked at the brand new t-shirt, a smile on your face.

“Yeah well I didn’t think you’d actually buy me one…”

“I mean I did rip your other shirt pretty badly. I-uh-I’m sorry about that.” Your eyes widened.

“Did you just say you’re sorry?”

“Yeah and I’m not saying it again.” he huffed.

“Bakugou I’m sorry too,” you said. Bakugou tilted his head.

“What are you sorry for?”

“I guess for everything. Well, maybe not everything because I don’t regret kicking your ass for 3 years one bit but I am sorry for that fight the other day. I almost killed you,” you explained nervously.

“Key word ‘almost’. I guess I almost did too,” he joked. You let out a nervous chuckle.

“Here’s the thing Bakugou, I don’t know anything about you yet I hate you with every ounce of my body. I guess I want to hate you for a reason.”

“What the hell does that mean, nerd?” He questioned. Your face got warm.

“You know how they say, ‘it’s what’s on the inside that counts’? Well,I want to hate you for what’s on the inside,” you laughed. Bakugou raised a brow.

“And what about you? The only thing I know about you is that you’ve got a short temper and your shirts rip easily. I barely know you either…”

He was right. Probably the only person who knew anything remotely deep about you was Iida, and even that was still somewhat surface level. You didn’t pick UA to get too comfortable with your classmates, even if you were friends, since in the real world you would be competing for the number one Hero spot. Maybe that’s why most of them were intimidated by you.

You patted on the top of the table, hinting for Bakugou to sit with you. He groaned and joined you on the table.

“This is stupid,” he mumbled. You rolled your eyes.

“Come on just try. And just to clarify, we are doing this for research purposes only. I’m convinced by the end of this I’ll still want to rip your head off 24/7,” you said. Bakugou nodded.

“Yeah I mean not like that could change.”

“Exactly. Okay so you first. What is it that makes Katsuki Bakugou a horrible pain in my ass?” You smiled sarcastically. Bakugou chuckled quietly.

“What do you want to know, dumbass?”

•

[taglist OPEN: @vangoghpoets @vangoghmusings @bokutory @complimentaryhugsgirl @cloudswritings @kriswu46 @neodnyl @evivn1 @jazzylove @mileven-reddie @whalerus @misssugarless @random-fandom-girl-24 @fanfiction-and-stress @ushiwakatrash @minhoswife @addictofsupernatural @the-shota-king-masayuki @freyafolkvangr @fourteenow @tamaguchi @lalayy @athenarosaline @blxck-coffee @katsukibabe @thatonegeekchick ]

[mrsdeanwinchester19]

The Interview

Steve x reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: The Avengers have interviews with a news outlet and it doesn’t go as expected

Type: Fluff and humor

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: This was inspired by the Jiminy Glick/Jimmy Fallon interview

The Avengers compound was almost completely quiet, Steve was the only one awake.  He doesn’t normally stay at the compound anymore, preferring to stay at his house, but they got in late from a mission last night and fell asleep after taking his suit off.  The only noise came from the drip, drip, drip of the coffee maker as he mentally tried to prepare for the interviews the whole team has today.  Everyone had been assigned a journalist for a news outlet called The New York Sun.  They were doing a piece on the Avengers, hopefully they won’t try to turn it into an exposé, but it’s not like they would find any information that isn’t already on the Internet after Natasha decrypted and released SHIELD’s files.

Bucky stumbles into the kitchen in a long gray and purple striped robe, looking like he just woke from cryo.  “Good morning sunshine,” Steve jokes.  Bucky glares at him before taking the cup of coffee that Steve had prepared for himself before walking back out.  “FRIDAY,” Steve says to the air.  “Set an alarm for everyone’s room.”  He smiles slightly when the loud alarm starts blaring in all their rooms.  

Sam slams his door open and looks around frazzled.  “What the hell, man?” He clearly woke up thinking there was some kind of attack happening.

Steve simply shrugs his shoulders in response.  “You need to get ready.”

Once everyone had gotten up and gotten ready, they all have a meeting in the common area.  Tony orders them not to say anything the people don’t know about already, don’t say anything about each other, and definitely don’t talk about relationships or family.  

The journalists are spread out around the compound, each in their own room, so Tony tells them where to go to meet their journalist.  Steve goes into the conference room to see one chair turned away from him.  When he closes the door, the journalist spins their chair around and sets their papers on the table.  Steve is immediately struck by how beautiful the interviewer is. Long Y/H/C hair tumbling over her shoulders, bright Y/E/C eyes staring into his baby blues.  She’s wearing a tight black skirt and a white blouse that Steve can slightly see her lacy bralette through.  

“Steve Rogers, nice to meet you,” she says, extending her hand.  Steve grips her soft hand in his rough one and shakes it.  He can’t help but notice the lack of a ring on the hand he didn’t shake.

“Nice to meet you too Miss…” he trails off.

“Y/N.”

“Miss Y/N.  It’s not often we do interviews, just press conferences,” he says, sitting down across the table from her.

“Well, normally I interview celebrities, so this is a nice change of pace,” she answers.  Apparently Steve isn’t a celebrity in her eyes despite the fact that he’s a national icon and has been since World War II.  

“What would you like to know?” Steve changes the subject.

“I want to know about your journey.  I want to know how-” she checks her notes, “-Steve Rogers got to where he is today; but not too much detail because I don’t actually care.  You were born where?”

“I was born and raised in Brooklyn-,” Steve explains, but she cuts him off.

“-Isn’t that wonderful? Poor Brooklyn or Newsies Brooklyn?”

“Uh, it was more poor Brooklyn.”

“Poor Brooklyn, okay. And I’m assuming from the grammar…limited education.”

Steve nearly has to keep his jaw from dropping at her audacity.  To keep his mouth from opening, he clenches his jaw as she continues with the questions.  He may not be a genius like Tony, but he’s smart.  While Tony’s head is filled with ideas for inventions, his is packed with military strategies, fighting styles, and a lifetime of wise advice that the team never wants to hear.  Then, at night, what takes over his mind is how embarrassing the Rappin’ with Cap videos about hot lunches and tooth decay are.

She continues before he has a chance to respond, “There are a lot of words you don’t say.  Rumors are you don’t swear, is that true?”  Steve nods his head in affirmation.  “Why?  Are you scared of saying the words or something?”

Steve sighs, used to this kind of response.  “I just think it sounds unintelligent and unprofessional.”

“Ah, and with your lack of education you want to sound as smart as possible.  So, moving on, you stopped producing weapons.  You said ‘I’m not gonna do it anymore’.  Why is that?”

“Yeah, that uh, that wasn’t me, that was Tony.”

“And you are…?”

“Steve Rogers.”

She gasps, “These questions are not- I’m not prepared for this!  Alright, improvising.  Here’s one, how are you alive?”

“I beg your pardon?” Steve asks, not quite understanding if she’s referring to his age or a certain mission he shouldn’t have come back from.

“You went into the ice. Human cells are mostly made of water. When water freezes, it expands. Your cells should have burst.”

“They think that the serum prevented it from happening.  The doctors said that instead of the water in my cells expanding that when it got cold it clumped together and turned solid.  I’m not a scientist though, that’s something you would want to ask Bruce or Cho, they tried to explain it to me.”

“Bruce isn’t a medical doctor, right?” she asks.

“Right.  But he studied the serum, attempting to replicate it and now that I’m here again he’s trying to learn more about it.  I was basically a pin cushion for him in the beginning, he took so much blood.”

“Alright, last question. I wanna ask you about your relationship with Bucky Barnes.”

“He’s a very good friend-“ Steve begins.

“Lover.”

“What?”

“Is he your lover?” she asks again.

“No, he’s just a friend; basically my brother,” Steve defends.

“Admit it in this interview, he’s your male lover!”

“You’re just trying to get a reaction out of me!” Steve says.  He knows he shouldn’t let her rile him up at all, but he can’t help it when the entire interview has been to hold.

“I’m not trying to get a reaction.”

“Yes you are, you’re trying to get a reaction out of me by saying ridiculous stuff like this!”

“I’ll tell you the reaction that I’m trying to get over, I’m trying to get over the fact that I thought this was with Stark!”

“You gotta be shitting me.”

“Oof, Rogers, you kiss your wife with that mouth?  Or should I say you kiss Bucky with that mouth,” she says.

Steve pulls at his own hair before walking out of the conference room.  She’ll find her own way out.  What the hell kind of interview was that?  The questions were almost nonsensical, followed no pattern or sequence, and apparently she thought she was interviewing a different person.  He’s been angered by interviewers before, especially when they try to work in “gotcha” questions, but never straight up insulted like this with the education comment.  He’s not sure if the others are done with their interviews yet but if he needs to talk to them, he can text.  He’s headed home.

  You unlock your front door and drop your purse after closing the door. Before you even get a chance to turn on the light, a voice calls out.  “Limited education?”

You jump a bit and put your hand on your chest.  You look over to see a dark figure on the couch.  He stands up and slowly walks over until he’s in the light shining through the front windows from the street lights.  “I think you deserved it,” you say.

“Oh really?” he asks.

“Yes.  Texting your wife that you’re getting in and then staying at the compound?”  You walk closer to him.  “I stayed up for hours worried that something happened to you in the last few minutes of the flight and you said I’m not allowed to call you during missions.”

“I’m sorry babe, my phone died and I passed out when I went to go take off my uniform.  Can you forgive me?” he asks, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You look up at him then at his chest.  “I mean, a massage would definitely help…”

He laughs.  “I was about to ask the same thing of you, especially after FRIDAY showed Tony the full recording of my interview and then had an almost two hour phone call with me about it.  He’s gonna kill me when he finds out the interviewer was my wife.  Actually it’s gonna be when he finds out I got married and didn’t invite the team.”

“Well don’t worry about it,” you say, setting your hands against his chest and feel his strong heart beating beneath his skin.  “He’ll understand since you two weren’t on good terms at the time. In other news, I wrote you a shining review about how you’re smart, selfless, brave, kind, and how sexy your ass is.”

He laughs and leans down to kiss you.  The kiss is chaste but sweet.  “We’re having dinner with the team on Thursday.”  

It’s Monday today so that gives me only 3 days to mentally prepare to meet the people most important to him. “Are you sure?” I ask nervously.  

“Of course!  You already know Bucky and he loves you.  I’m sure the rest of the team will too.  Besides, how else will we explain the great article about me when Tony saw the interview.”

“Did you tell them they’re having dinner with you and your wife?” I ask.  I have hung out with Bucky and Steve dozens of times.  He comes over for dinner at least twice a week and he was the best man at Steve’s second wedding.  Because Tony and Steve had been split apart, he really wanted Bucky at his wedding, even though he wasn’t fully recovered yet.  I think Steve would’ve put him in a straight jacket had it meant he could be there.  Bucky also wanted to be there more than anything, he was just terrified he would ruin Steve’s day.  So after telling Bucky, you had a small, second ceremony that Bucky was able to attend, along with Steve’s Wakandan friends. We may end up having a third ceremony that the team can finally attend.

“Nope.  I just told them team dinner on Thursday and they have to be there.  But for now, how about we head to the bedroom and get reacquainted?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows and biting his full lower lip.

“Yeah, you need to take care of your wife that you left alone for a week.  Otherwise you’ll get an article about your secret addition to glazed donuts and soap operas!”

Taglist: @imanuglywombat​

[presidentstalkeyes]

Journal D - The Time-Traveling Swedish Furniture Store?

This weekend, I’ve been hired to shadow a family hiking vacation a few miles from Helena. I needed to buy a new camping chair after the last one was torn to pieces in that incident with the Owlbear, so I went looking around and just then, on the horizon, it appeared, a great brick of blue and gold - the TRIKEA. You know the sort, big-box Swedish furniture store that looks more like a warehouse, but it’s justified because it... needs more space to fit all the stuff in. I write like it wasn’t obvious. Mason, you idiot.

Immediately, as I drove up to park, something’s not right. The delineation separating the building and the surrounding woods was too sharp. The parking lot itself was empty, not even delivery trucks. The store itself was  devoid of people; I suppose I did arrive just before closing time, but it took me ten minutes to even find an employee. The one I did find claimed this was normal. She had a thin strand of unusual material lining the interior of her uniform cap. A ‘cold iron foil’, with an additional lining of unicorn hair, which I was not permitted to see. Protects their minds from ‘Bill’. Obviously there’s something magic going on. The employees I encountered were normal humans, just accustomed to Weird phenomena. I showed them a few of my Journal entries and they smiled and nodded. Apparently the mistake I made with the Owlbear was presuming they like liquid honey, not solid honeycomb.

I was told that speaking to the manager was completely out of the question - they haven’t even left their office in years - so they let me look around the employee lounge instead. They had signs up advising employees to keep up their mental defences, and be on the lookout for yellow eyes - ‘if you see anyone with yellow eyes, restrain them immediately with your emergency handcuffs and secure them to any bed in the bedding area - whatever you do, never shake their hand’. ‘Bill’ was at the top of the banned list. Someone had brought in some Cookie Cats, which expired in 1966 (a year before they were discontinued, and the packaging was consistent with the time period, not the revival from the 2000s) and yet looked perfectly edible. Most of the food in the fridge was Brown Meat™. On the way out I passed through the art section - it was full of pictures of Gravity Falls, and of comets, and of road signs saying ‘WRONG WAY’.

That wasn’t even the weirdest part. I was served at the checkouts by an employee called Jesús - I knew him. He’s an old friend of mine, works for my Great-Uncle at his tourist trap. He was much younger than I remember, still in the depths of the acne ages. I made the mistake of referring to him by name, but cleared it up before he took me for a ‘stalker kidnapper dude’. According to him, the date was July 13th 2006, so I wished him a happy birthday I refrained from doing so I may have blurted out  and then I remembered; years ago, he told me of an odd encounter while ‘working a side job at TRIKEA’, with a guy who looked just like me - ON HIS BIRTHDAY. The mystery was solved - THE STORE CAN TRAVEL THROUGH TIME!

Why didn’t my mom take me here when I was a kid?

Of course, I couldn’t risk my friend figuring out my true identity, thus screwing up the timeline (I’m on bad enough terms with Time Baby’s goons as it is) so I made my excuses and left. But not before eating the objectively best Swedish meatballs I’ve ever had. It’s TRIKEA, you have to try it. Heh, try. Try-kea. Guess I could have gone into marketing.

More Journal D, this time referencing an in-joke from the KnockOut AU server. Also a shout-out to Cookie Cats, which I think were invented by @mother-ofthe-universe but it might also be a Steven Universe reference? I’m not sure, I’ve never seen that show. :V

[accursedkaleeshi]

Hondo Has the Opposite of a Crisis of Honor

3K word fic about a job Hondo Ohnaka ran for Kalee earlier in his career & his later wartime run-in with General Grievous.

Business was on a steady incline for Hondo Ohnaka. He had escaped slavery, poverty, the Hutts & now, as planned he would escape the attention of authority. What kind of authority? All kinds, of course. He was a self-made man. An entrepreneur & a leader. His gang, made mostly of fellow Weequay, were operating just as ordered; The Ohnaka Gang! Yes, things were going most swimmingly. For his crew to flourish they had to fly low & strike fast, as his mother would have said.

While they worked up their spice sources, doing good work in front of other backroom businessmen would help get their name out into the right circles of the galaxy. The open ended bid from the planet Kalee for smugglers was a tip top opportunity. The Galactic Republic had brought embargos down on Kalee hard & they had no choice but to turn to underhanded humanitarians (for lack of a better word). Many other gangs & syndicates showed hesitation: the distance, the environment, & the natives all had reputations for being dangerous. Nonsense!, Hondo had thought, We will do it & we will do it with good deals. The Ohnaka Gang could come out looking quite good from this & so very far from the core worlds. Out there was little in the way of pesky patrols that might get their names out into the wrong circles of the galaxy.

From the relative safety of one of his classic Weequay ships, Hondo fixed himself a drink. He flipped on the vidscreen to a call from Kalee & spread himself over his seat. Between his antique rig & their equally antiquated tech, the signal was a bit scrambled.

“Hold on, hold on,” he relayed whilst he threw a cork bottle stopper at his young pet Kowakian monkey-lizard, “Mukmuk, help me out.” Stirred into action, Mukmuk squawked a pompous little laugh but begrudgingly leapt from his perch. The monkey-lizard gave the comms unit a couple good smacks that echoed against the casing but seemed to do the trick. The screen righted itself but the color flickered on & off. At this Hondo opened his arms in a greeting gesture. “Trade Captain Blys’aan! My most beautiful 4th quadrant customer!” he exclaimed jovially, “Your run has departed as planned. You would like more good news, yes-?”

He was interrupted by his contact.

“Save ya wiles for yer core clients, Ohnaka,” Blys’aan said, the audio coming in uncorrupted. She had a thick but warm foreign accent &, although her voice was just as jubilant as Hondo’s, her words were often sharp. The both of them knew very well he did not have clients on the core worlds, not at this point in his sure to be illustrious career. “We givin ya what we agreed,” she said amenably. It was hard to describe how her voice matched her visage. Warm & welcoming, perhaps, but with a sharp wolfish wit about her. A fellow businessman.

“An don’t you go try an upsellin my boys at Hakaleel, eh?” Blys’aan had barked this as if chiding a child. As she spoke she seemed to be sorting or washing vegetables. Her motion would leave artifacts as the vidscreen dropped in & out of monochrome. This Kaleeshi woman had such a vibrant green scales that her form would blend into her backdrop of some lush foreign jungle. Only when she began peeling things did Hondo recognize the vegetable (a popular, cheap export). Consequently, he realized it seemed small in her clawed hands & that Kaleesh must be larger than the average humanoid species. This did not worry him, of course, there was no reason to make things difficult.

“You know we can’t be affording more,” she had added. Hondo knew this to be relatively true. Kalee had next to nothing in the way of recognized galactic currency but Hondo always preferred to trade in goods. Most of what the Kaleesh had been trading to the other smugglers were caches of liberated Yam’rii weapons & tech as well as Kaleeshi people willing to find work off planet. Hondo was sure the Kaleesh made for excellent crew & security but, not to be exclusive, he had his own theme going.

The Ohnaka gang got a few caches of alien weapons but they didn’t mind trading in some of Kalee’s native goods. These were composed largely of animal products: feathers, hides, cuts, live specimens, & bones. Lots & lots of bones. Raw or crafted into traditional pieces of masks or weaponry. It made sense that other less cultured crews referred to the Kaleesh as bone lizards. Hondo knew he could tremendously upsell these to any would-be trophy hunter or self-proclaimed mystic looking for exotic trinkets. Kalee was on the edge of the civilized galaxy & considered to be in wild space; it was legitimately exotic. He would barter these for basic supplies that Kalee seemed to need most of all until such time it ceased to be profitable. Therefore the smiling & nodding he was doing was not at all a lie. For now.

“Tell ya lads t’ be behavin’ themselves on planet,” Blys’aan followed. Her voice suddenly went up half an octave in a mischievous tone. Hondo bowed his head a bit before she finished, his money-making smile still plastered on his face. He liked Trade Captain Blys’aan. She was sassy. Full of spirit. It was too bad she had retired from her position & was only fielding the remaining contracts in her name to her trade company. “We don’ take kindly t’ swindlers out here in wild space.” Naturally, what was a good deal without threats thinly veiled or otherwise? That’s how you know it is good! His mother had told him as much.

Other people (Kaleesh, he assumed) had wandered in & out of the background of her call a couple times & he had taken no notice. That was until Blys’aan said, “Hate for my husband t’ haff ta make’n example outta you to de other pirates, no?” She said this with such glee, her lips pursed into a playful smile behind her bone-crested veil, that the realization of someone coming to pause behind her almost startled the smile from him. They were large. If Blys’aan had 12 standard centimeters on him, this figure would have been nearly 30 centimeters taller than him in his finest boots.

Hondo could only assume it was her new husband; the General, they called him. There was nothing coy & playful about this man. He was only on screen for a few seconds but had looked directly at the pirate, gesturing the universal signal for watching someone. The moment the General motioned to his eyes with two clawed fingers the color on the old monitor cut back in. For a split second Hondo might have been intimidated, barely registering the pointed jab his direction under the piercing predatory gaze of the General’s bright gold eyes glowering at him from behind the hollowed sockets of some animal’s bleached skull. By the time Hondo began to voice a reply to Blys’aan, the General was already out of the frame.

“Of course, of course!” Ohnaka began, very loudly & very reassuringly, “I am a man of substance, Captain! We wouldn’t dream of- of profiting off the suffering of your people. We can be excellentfriends!” He clapped his hands together at this for emphasis. Blys’aan giggled very boisterously. She must have seen her husband walking away & realized that he had been behind her. That must have been a solid relationship, threatening pirates together. Good for them. “There is no need to take the good General away from his duties,” Hondo insisted.

He had no idea what those duties were but he would prefer he keep to them. All Hondo knew about General Grievous was that he was some sort of globally celebrated veteran folk hero, & not the jaunty fun kind of folk hero. He’d heard from the other gangs considering Kalee’s jobs that the General protected his system so fiercely that even Zygerrian slavers would no longer come out this way. The details did not concern him. Hondo was there to do business!

The call carried on another few minutes as he wanted to be positive he postured assuringly enough to not get his crew killed by the natives. Blys’aan had ended the conversation with, “You be good t’ all yer space rat friends, now Ohnaka,” which he took to be endearing in a matronly way. How nice of her to wish them well. This was the last time he spoke with Import Trade Captain Blys’aan. He certainly had hoped in the moment that it was the last time he ever had to see the General.

From then on Hondo’s Kaleeshi contact was the High Trade Chief of the planet’s premier trade organization. They liked their titles, the Kaleesh. High Trade Chief Yaitee was an alright sort, very shrewd & severe. He was quite a fine businessman but desperate (the best kind of businessman) & much less fun. A couple members of his own crew would splinter off & join a poaching ring on the planet, never to be heard from again. You win some, you lose some. Then the Intergalactic Banking Clan showed up to the system. They had apparently worked out some sort of deal with the good General. Many smugglers did not like that kind of presence. Even with the IBC, the Kaleesh tried to maintain many of their under the table contracts as there wasn’t much to go around, apparently.

Over time the Ohnaka gang was getting right to where they wanted to be in the galaxy, cutting deals & running spice. Kalee became less profitable every quarter until they quietly stopped taking their jobs & moved on to greener pastures, so to speak. The last time Kalee was on his underworld radar was maybe 8 standard years after he’d taken on Blys’aan’s contract. Something about an urgent need for medical supplies. Ominous, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it even if he wanted too. Meds were very hard to smuggle & supplying them tended to land people in a lot of drama. Too much trouble to do as a regular gig. But life with spice was going quite nicely.

Hondo did not think back on dropped deals very often. Life must go on, after all. Years later the Ohnaka gang became quite good at conducting business on the fringes of the Clone Wars. Now, he was not one to take sides, but it is hard to sell to battle droids. Not impossible, but very hard. The money in the Separatists was their leader Count Dooku of Serrano. The man was loaded with money. But unfortunately their engagements fell through & Hondo hadn’t managed to make friends with the Count.

He had hoped perhaps the Count was an honorable old man that would take their falling out with grace & humility. He learned he was incorrect in this assumption when a fleet of battle droids showed up to his beautiful home & base of operations on Florrum. The Count himself did not show, busy doing Sith lord things, whatever that was. He sent his dog of war. Of course Hondo had heard the commander of Dooku’s droid army was wreaking havoc on the galaxy. Not the jaunty, fun kind of havoc. Supreme Commander of the Separatist Droid Army General Grievous. The Kaleesh liked their titles. However, up until that day, Hondo had the good fortune of never meeting him & thought maybe good for him, getting promoted to death machine, but never lingered on it.

He had not been worried. What are a few battle droids? He was not prepared for what marched into his lobby that day. It was big. Sharp. Cold. Most of all, furious. King of the clankers, indeed.

“Hondo,” it growled his name with disdain upon entering.

“General Grievous, I presume!” Hondo had greeted his guest as jovially as ever. “What a surprise! Have a seat. What, may I ask, is the honor?” The hope that maybe this could be an amicable meeting faded with each long, loud step the General took, until this overgrown battle droid stepped directly onto his desk to leer at him. When the General grabbed his very rare vintage coat lapels & lifted him off of his feet there was a split second of something, maybe horror or disgust or maybe even pity. Whatever it was had him briefly aghast to find those same blazing golden eyes he’d glimpsed so long ago. Did the General remember him? Or was he acting purely on the spiteful orders of his master?

“You can dispense with the pleasantries, pirate,” Grievous had rasped as he approached. “This planet is now under Separatist control,” he had asserted from somewhere on that uncanny plate armor that was now his face. It truly was the same man. Bone white was an interesting color choice for a killer war robot. Bold.

“Uh huh,” Hondo blinked a few times before remembering he was currently being threatened with military occupation by this fancy cyborg. “And what do you suppose that means?” he asked. His flash of empathy vanished completely as quickly as it came. He got the feeling this meeting was not going to get him any deals & in fact he may be swindled. The gall did not have time to be voiced as the General threw him to the ground with an unnecessary amount of force. Luckily he was still drunk enough not to be phased by impact.

“It means you have a new master, pirate scum” the General jeered & threw something to the ground in front of him. Hondo had another second of panic, thinking perhaps the good General was insane & opted to bomb them. But it was just a holocom. And there was the man of the hour over hologram to greet him.

“Hondo Ohnaka, we meet again,” Count Dooku began over coms with just as much disdain as his monstrous errand boy, “As I recall, last time we met face-to-face I was your prisoner.” Hondo muttered a syllable. He supposed the Jedi would never hold a grudge like this. “And you attempted to barter me off to the highest bidder.” Dooku’s face never once changed expression.

“But can you blame me?” Hondo interjected with a smile & a sheepish shrug. “I mean a Sith Lord-“ He used the same gravitas to pronounce it that everyone else did, although still not having any idea what exactly a Sith lord was. “What a handsome price you would-“

“Silence! You will pay the price for your treachery,” the Count barked.

“Well, I’m a reasonable man. Name the price. I’m sure we can reach a-“ Hondo was again cut off.

“There will be payment, but no deals…” No deals, he said? No deals? “Only demands. Your entire arsenal will be melted down. Everything you own is now property of the Separatist Alliance.”

“Now you go too far!” Hondo exclaimed indignantly. “Unacceptable! This is an outrage. This…” All of his little kingdom he had worked so hard for! Scrapped by this cad & his metal toys? He had stolen all of this fair & square. He would not stand for this! Now that he was making a scene, two commando droids clacked up & seized him by the arms with very unforgiving grip. “Hold on,” the pirate changed his tone as the droids led him away to his own brig. “We can make a deal! This is not good business!” he shouted over his shoulder.

That was a very long day for Hondo Ohnaka. Luckily the half-gallon Jedi he had captured earlier came back to rescue him with the troupe of pint sized Jedi in tow. How nice this was! Not only did they free him, but he got to witness the construction of a Jedi lightsaber. Very rare, very exclusive. In return he led them to his secret fleet of pirated ships in which they could escape. Very generous of him. They got separated in the dry canyons of Florrum but Hondo was convinced to courageously save the day in the Fetts’ souped up patrol ship, Slave 1. It was a very nice ship that the same half-gallon Jedi had grounded there some time before.

The ship had now come to the girl’s rescue in the midst of a lightsaber duel with the General himself. There were far too many laser swords flashing down there in the dust. Tano leapt dramatically into the open gangplank just out of reach of the droid general’s claws. Grievous stood & stared down this highly modified attack ship, yelling some threat. Hondo felt threatened, at least, as his initial impression concerning the General’s level of sanity seemed to be true. This completely justified opening fire on the cyborg with dual ship-graded laser cannons. The tiny Jedi were surprisingly very open to obliterating him. It would have been a nice end to the day if Hondo had stopped a galactic war right then & there but, after a bolt or two struck the ground around him the General dropped & took cover. He folded rather like a very expensive lawn chair as his Separatist tanks rolled up behind him. It was time to go.

This was exactly how he retold the tale to Jedi Kenobi. Except maybe the part about waylaying a craft full of children. The important thing is Hondo saved the day! His friends in the Republic were happy to free his base system from Separatist control or, in the very least, not arrest him for waylaying a craft full of children. Whilst Hondo & his battered gang went back to Florrum to start picking up the pieces, he may have had a quiet moment of intoxicated introspection (the best kind of introspection?).

He reflected on the concepts of good & evil, whether or not they exist, & if so, to what degree. Was his sense of honor different than his friend Kenobi’s? From the Count’s? From the General’s? Surely these were all honorable men. At least at some point in their lives. Hardship tends to polarize people. Hondo liked to be in the middle. Maybe a little to one side. Then he went to drunkenly order new ships from the holonet to defend his base from any other ideas the Count might get.

The very last time his mind wandered all the way back to the Kalee contract was when the news broke. That was a lot of news to take in, to be fair. The Clone Wars had ended with the death of General Grievous & a betrayal by the Jedi of the Republic? Where did everyone’s honor get them in the end? He fleetingly wondered how Import Trade Captain Blys’aan was doing.

[bitchapalooza]

Hetalia nekotalia headcanons(covering just a few of them)

It seems weird that the cats would just be called "Italy-cat" by the actual nation whose name is already Italy so I wasted my time in figuring out their possible breeds and searching up acceptable names(unless stated otherwise) for them that the nations may pick for them and even where the nations obtained these cats. I think they've come to value these cats on the same level as themselves due to how long they may have been around(the same goes for whatever other pet(s) they may own). I thought this was a fun thing to do and honestly it was! :)

Might do more when I get the time again~

***Tw for mentions of animal abuse***

Americat:

Domestic long hair, possible Maine Coon mix!

I think America adopted his cat in the 1980s. He was just a kitten, abandoned outside a supermarket in a box with a sign with one other kitten inside. At least 2 months old. America, having a big heart and soft spot for animals of any kind, took them both in. However he was already struggling to buy proper food for his other animals so he needed to find a different home for them. America ended up keeping one, as he fell absolutely head over heels for him, and named him Liberty— for obvious personal reasons. America raised him for the majority of his life as an indoor cat but with how much energy he has he decided to train him to be an outdoor cat as well, even teaching him to use the doggy door. This gave him enough room to actually grow faster into the adult cat he is now compared to if he'd ALWAYS be around America(as in staying small due to the slow aging around America).

Canacat:

Domestic longhair, possible Maine Coon mix!

Canada adopted him after America offhandedly asked. Canada was pretty stuck when it came to naming him. It was 4 weeks into owning him, mostly calling him a range of names such as Paul and Rookie but never sticking to one for even one whole day, but when Canada was just sitting there eating breakfast before leaving for his daily duties, just a normal quiet morning it came to him. Again, he was just sitting there. That is until the kitten figured out how to climb onto the chair next to him that is. He sat there meowing and pawing at Canada's thigh for 10 minutes while Canada ate. And then he tried to jump onto the table 3 times in a row. Canada gave in and allowed him up there for a minimum of 3 minutes. Not even 1 second passed and suddenly the little rascal is trying to steal the last couple bites of pancake. That was apparently what he wanted. And so Canada named him Pancake! Pancake was an energetic little kitten that a spring in his step but he did mellow out as he grew into adulthood. He's mainly an indoor cat. Come winter time when it snows, Pancake has a tendency to forget the existence of snow so he goes bolting for it only to regret it later.

Germany-cat:

A black or gray German Rex!

Germany isn't exactly a big cat person, he prefers dogs. But after this kitten followed Prussia's cat all the way home and noticed how thin he was he couldn't resist taking care of him. Germany ended up naming him Maus in reference to how tiny and often silent his meow was as a kitten. Now it's just a hilarious name as he's grown quite big and has a very strong meow! Maus is a very well behaved cat although it seems he doesn't favor being played with. He's most often seen at the top of his cat tower or in the window basking in the warm sun. As he was previously found as a stray outside he still does favor being outside. He tends to escape whenever Germany unlocks the doggy door or when Germany let's the dogs out in the backyard to run around for a bit. Maus may be a very mellow cat but he does tend to be loud when he wants food and doesn't want to wait for it. He also tends to attack people when suddenly being pet.

Prussia-cat:

An albino German Rex!

Prussia adopted him in 1998 after his and Germany's new home became a little overrun with mice. Prussia affectionately named him Gunther. Gunther was a spunky little kitten, in fact he was the runt of 6 other siblings and noticeably different to his siblings in appearance(originally thought to just take after the father's white coat despite the orange coats of his siblings and mother). Prussia chose him, the teeny little runt, after watching him easily sneak up and take down his bigger sister and win the play-fight he started. Prussia proudly took him home and trained him to catch the mice! Some years later, Gunther apparently got curious and brave and got loose outside. He was gone for weeks. He came back with a limp, a fresh scar, and a kitten clinging to his side. Gunther rarely escapes outside anymore. Prussia didn't know Gunther was albino until took he took him to the vet for his shots.

Itabby and Romano-cat:

They're both European shorthairs!

When the Italies were freshly unified and everything was still pretty awkward they were forced to go bond by taking walks every morning. Veneziano didn't mind this, he enjoyed the morning and even more so the countryside around them. Romano however could care less about it all and just wanted his bed back. Veneziano was all conversation, very observant of his surroundings as he commented on them to strike up an interesting conversation. And that's how he noticed a man cruelly stuffing two kittens into a sack on their way out of town. After alerting his brother, the two confronted the man. The man claimed these two were sick because neither were getting any of their mother's milk like the rest. Romano demanded he hand the kittens over or else he'd regret it. Veneziano annoyed him with his whining to the point where he gave in and handed them over quite harshly. Once they got them safely away from the man they took a look at the 1 week old kittens; they were both terribly skinny but clearly hanging on for dear life and the brothers both agreed, for once(well more like Romano kept saying "whatever the fuck you want"), that they wanted to help these poor creatures. Luckily for them they knew a stray cat that just had another litter of 3 and could perhaps try to get her to accept two more. And she did! Well it took a day but she did eventually take them in and feed them. Veneziano immediately decided that once they were old enough to eat solid foods he was going to keep one of them and name him Gino! It took a while for Romano to warm up to the idea of keeping even one but he eventually did. He took the other kitten and named him Sonno. They've lived so long due to just how clingy they are to the brothers. Their aging was so slowed down because of how often they're near the Italies that they didn't become fully grown adult cats until some time around 1932.

Japan-cat:

Japanese bobtail!

Named Yoshi* for being Japan's little lucky charm. Yoshi was left behind by his previous family after they moved away. He left his home and began wandering around until he got to Japan's house. Taking notice of how the cat stuck around his house, Japan began feeding him. And feeding him. And feeding him. And eventually he accepted the idea that he was now a cat owner. Not knowing his previous name, Japan decided to rename him Yoshi. Because of Yoshi, Japan began to come outside more and more each day as he is an outdoor cat that seldomly comes inside anymore. What's more is Yoshi came into his life in 1999, just a few months before 2000— aka when The Lost Decade was coming to an end as well as his personal on and off string of depressive episodes. Japan spoils Yoshi with treats and only the best cat food he can afford!

*The real name given to him by Himaruya is Tama, most likely a reference to calico cat Tama from Kinokawa, Wakayama Prefecture, Japan(that's at least what I've gathered). Before I knew this(in my early fandom days) I headcanoned his name to be Yoshi, as I said above it was a reference to luck(I didn't have as easy and unmonitored access to the internet as I do now so I never had a steady way to look these things up). I like Tama as well but I still can't get the name Yoshi out of my mind! I'm not sure if Yoshi and Tama can be combined like some names here in America can be combined(like Lilian Pad[as in Lily Pad] or Patches Poo) and I don't want to attempt it in case I get it wrong no matter how much research I do.

Austria-cat:

Domestic longhair!

Austria has quite the soft spot for this kitty surprisingly. He was born on his estate after his mother wandered in and settled between a couple bushes in his garden. He was born one of three kittens, almost entirely identical to his mother. Austria ended up giving names to all the cats but this one specifically was named Mozart— for very obvious reasons on Austria's part. The mother cat and two of the other kittens ended up moving along a year later after Austria decided to renovate part of his house; however the only one to stick around was Mozart. Austria would let Mozart come inside if only he could manage to pick him up. Mozart will jump into his lap outside, brush up against him, greet him in the morning, allow him to come near(especially with food and clean water) and even pet him but he won't ever peacefully allow Austria to carry him. Mozart was originally thought to be a Ragdoll however it was France who identified him to be a simple domestic longhair instead.

China-cat:

Burmese cat!

Originally a stray that endlessly bothered a shop owner and his own cat, China attracted his attention when he fed him only once. This cat followed him all the way to the hotel he was staying at not far from the little shop, which annoyed him greatly but honestly gave him a little laugh as well. As his car ride home was only going to be an hour at best he decided to at least attempt to bring the little fella home for proper care and attention. And obviously it worked. On his way home he decided a name like Zhi seemed perfect for him! Something told China Zhi was used to car rides and being around people, which told him Zhi was originally in a loving home. Feeling a little sad that this nice loyal cat was living on the streets he began to pamper him. Now Zhi expects to be brushed twice a day, let out at least once a day to soak in the sun's warmth and lay in the soft grass. He's fed the best food possible, has more toys that he knows what to do with. China's cellphone is overrun with videos of Zhi playing fetch— a trick he didn't teach him which, to him, is further proof he had a previous owner.

Russia-cat:

Siberian cat!

Taken in from a rescue shelter, at first fostered, then adopted. Russia kept the name the shelter gave him, Boris, as it fit him very well considering his past. Boris was unfortunately neglected when his previous owner was around. His fur was matted, he was skin and bones, upon pick up he had an eye infection. He was terribly scared of people. After being treated and showed kindness, it wasn't very long for him to open up. When Russia came along and took him in to give him all the proper attention he lacked, Boris fell in love with it. And Russia fell in love with having a cat around. Before anyone could swoop in and try to adopt Boris, Russia already put in to adopt. Now Boris is a happy healthy cat who's favorite toy to play with is Russia's supply of yarn. Boris loves bird or feather based toys the most, however, and will often drag his favorite feather wand over to Russia so he'd play. He's not much of an outdoor cat but after being kept mostly in a small cage since birth he does enjoy at least laying on the porch outside.

France-cat:

A Sacred Birman with light creamy point colouration!*

Obtained as a newly born kitten in 1992, France had offered to help nurture him as his mother had died shortly after giving birth. France named him Minou, more so in honor of his deceased mother Minet rather than it being a common French cat's name(some assume he was lazy with his naming). Minou grew up to be properly spoiled and loved by France. From the time he could see and walk properly, France began putting light outfits and accessories on him for very small amounts of time(like hats and ties mainly to avoid overheating). Minou often silently greets France at the door whenever he comes home, barreling through the hallway or off the couch in order to get some much needed love and attention. He surprisingly gets along very well with France's pet birds, only ever going after them once as a kitten. Minou can be found in his luxurious cat bed made of cardboard from the cat tower's box and a quilt France had crafted long long ago that's now drastically torn in various places. OR he can be found planting his fanny on France's face at night, nearly suffocating him. Minou seems to have a likeness for Russia and England.

*I know France-cat doesn't have any visible point colorations to him but him being a Persian doesn't fit him in my opinion, especially a blue eyed white cat. There's a high percentage of blue eyed white cats being deaf. However a common trait in Birmans are blue eyes so that, to me, fits better.

Iggycat:

Scottish fold-American shorthair mix!*

Obtained through a small litter from a colleague. England named him Lopsy  immediately upon seeing him, completely falling in love with him. Due to Lopsy's health concerns(osteochondrodysplasia) he's strictly an indoor cat. He's not very playful due to the pain he endures so he's prone to lay about, especially in England's lap, in his cat bed that sits directly under the window to reach the sunlight, or under England's bed. Despite being on them for so long, it still takes quite the struggle to give Lopsy his medication as he's come accustomed to when England is preparing to give it to him. As he's not very active, Lopsy isn't too fond of France's, America's, or Canada's cats— all of which tend to love playing together. However there are times when Minou is in non-playful mode where Lopsy will lay near or eat with him, but will absolutely refuse to lay with since Minou does have a tendency to attack another cat's tail without warning.

*The reason I see him as a mix is due to the major health concerns breeding two Scottish folds together can bring. However, breeding a Scottish fold with an American shorthair or British shorthair is often the better choice as there's less issues involved. There's talk about banning the breed all together. Even with this talk, breeding persists, preferably for cat shows from the sound of it. There's even research going into fixing these health concerns but it seems incurable due to the Scottish fold disease seeming to be a very dominant trait no matter what secondary breed it's bred with. Scottish fold disease doesn't always occur in a litter, mostly being a 50% change.

Spain-cat:

European shorthair!

Named Vivo for his lively personality, this little guy was found in the rain, drenched and hungry. He looked to be roughly 3 months old, very well fed and groomed so Spain assumed he had a family he ran away from for whatever reason. Without any other solution, Spain took him in until someone came to pick him up. A few weeks go by without anyone coming to claim him, so Spain opted to keep Vivo. Vivo is very loving, he possess a strong purr and often falls asleep purring. He's a lap cat but also has a tendency to curl up on or near Spain's shoulder when he's on the couch. Vivo is mainly an outdoor cat, often chasing mice or other vermen away from the garden without ever destroying it. Spain is pretty grateful to of found him as it had gotten quiet with Romano gone and all. And Vivo defiantly brought some noise to the house! He's not always vocal but when he is he tends to run around happily meowing for attention. He's surprisingly very territorial however— when introduced with then young kits Gino and Sonno, the Italies' cats, Vivo almost attacked them. It took small steps forward to get the three of them to warm up to each other. It also took a while to warm Vivo up to Minou and Gunther.

[thereallinksstuff]

So I rewrote the notes, apologies for spelling errors if there are any. Ps it's also on a03 here's a link if that's what you prefer, plus there's my other fics there too. https://archiveofourown.org/works/27684086

Logan stood in his room, much like he did every morning at 9 am, looking over himself with a small smile in the mirror. Admiring how good he thought he looked in his 'hidden' outfit as he's been refering to it as. A punked out Jean vest with a large amount of science, space and ocean life themed pins and patches with a save the Earth T-shirt underneath. Topped off with one of his Solid Blue ties loosely tied around his neck. A slick clean pair of black skinny Jeans that he had rolled up to cover just the top of his royal blue converse high tops, tied in a perfect double bow knot.

Suddenly Logan felt Thomas summoning him, Not managing to snap into his usual attire before standing, frozen still in his regular spot in Thomas's livingroom. Much like a deer in headlights.

Thomas, Virgil, Janus and Patton each stood in their respective areas looking at Logan, complete surprise and shock on their faces until Virgil breaks out into laughter. Thomas quickly remembered Logan mentioning this outfit many, many months ago when he first created it for himself. He had only told Thomas since as his 'Brain side' Thomas would know about it anyways.

Thomas swiftly got the others to pay attention to him so Logan could Snap into his usual attire when needed by the group. Logan smiled at him ever so faintly and silently thanked him for the metaphorical saving of him in the situation. He joined in the conversation and helped to the best of his abilities, which is to say, how much the others were willing to listen to his input.

For the next hour or so they discussed whether or not Thomas should make a video about them or one of his many second channel series'. He honestly didn't pay much attention. He was too focused on a strange feeling (heh feeling) that someone was in his room.

As soon as Thomas had his issue resolved Logan was the first to say goodbye, of course with a reminder to drink water and be healthy, but he was out of there quickly.

When he got back to his room he didn't immediately see anyone there, curious as to why he felt like someone had been. He began looking around his room to be sure. He noted how all the books were in place, his bed was still neatly made, his closet doors were slightly open as he had left them. Taking a moment to double check inside his closet, he felt as though someone had their eyes on him. As he walked out of his closet he noticed the his punk outfit was now laid neatly on his bed, walking over and picking up his best to put it away before noticing something in the pocket. He took out a small box that hadn't been in the pocket prior. Setting his vest down and sitting beside the outfit to open the box.

Looking inside carefully incase it's another one of Remus's pranks, glad that it doesn't seem to be he pulls out a thrice folded note.

For Logan, the biggest nerd I know,

I know this is random, and you don't like sides in your room but I can't help but give this to you. I have something else to give you, looking in the kitchen, where Patton won't see to find your next clue.

Ps, I liked the smile that this put on your face, you should wear it more, it suits you well.

From nobody.

As curious as Logan was about the who wrote the note, he does love a good puzzle after all. He looked at the outfit before looking to the gift in the box, deciding to snap into the punk outfit again. Agreeing with the author of the note that it does look good on him. Finally looking inside the box to see what gift he's recieved. Inside was a space pin that had 'viva la pluto' written on a small ribbon over an image of the planet itself. To say he was shocked was an understatement. He was unsure as to who would have given him something so sweet and who would have gone through the trouble of learning about his disdain for Pluto no longer being a planet.

Once a planet, always a planet, He thought as he placed the pin on his vest. Making his way down to the kitchen and seeing Patton making some lunch, the others elsewhere in the mindscape.

"Hello Patton, I wanted to apologize for my appearance earlier I didn't have time to change before being summoned, I will make sure it does not happen again."

Turning around and smiling brightly at Logan, Patton waved it off. " It's alright Logan, I just didn't expect you to enjoy that style, but whatever makes you happy kiddo."

"Ah, thank you Patton. I appreciate your understanding." Logan replied with his usual small smile, looking about the kitchen for somewhere that Patton wouldn't be able to see. Staying out of Patton's way while looking around, seeing a small blue envelope propped up on top of one of the cupboards. Reaching up and grabbing it, seeing that it is the next clue he is to be looking for. Pocketing the note to grab himself a snack, before sitting at the table to read his second clue. Nodding to Roman as he joins Patton and Logan in the kitchen.

To my Star

I know you like to read so check your favourite book to find the next clue, this may be short but I know you won't mind.

From someone ;)

As he finished his snack and reread the note, wondering who it's author is, Roman and Patton join him at the table. Both noticing the note and sharing a look before Roman speaks in his usual princely tone.

"Whatcha got there Logan?" He asked simply, Logan looked up from the note to him to respond.

"A note, it's the second I've gotten today and I am trying to figure out who has been writing them. I unfortunately do not recognize the handwriting, would either of you be able to assist?" He slid the note over to where they could see, Patton looking over it like a confused puppy and Roman looking intensely at it.

Logan sat and waited for them to look between the note and each other. "Well? Do either of you have an idea?" Logan asked calmly as Patton slid the note back.

"Well, I know it isn't Virgil's, his writing is more stylized and he likes to change fonts." Patton replied with a small apologetic smile. Roman tapped his chin as he spoke after Patton.

"Well, my king here is correct and I can tell you it was neither of us, it does look like it could be Janus or Remus's, though I'd expect Remus to write in anything but pen." Roman chuckled softly at Patton and Logans reaction to that. "Oh you both know it's true, he does stuff like that a lot. But I would ask Janus, he seems the most likely." Roman finished sincerely, smiling big and taking Patton's hand in his when nudged.

Logan smiled softly at the two, their relationship having first been a little surprising to the other sides and Logan, but being honestly sweet and helping Thomas greatly. "Well, thank you Roman and Patton, I shall retrieve the next note and continue my adventure. I hope you both have a lovely afternoon."

Smiling at the two respectfully as he gets up to let them have their lunch in peace. Letting them know he shall see them at dinner time before heading up to his room.

Bumping into Virgil on the stairwell. "Ah Virgil, I wanted to apolo-" "Don't worry about the outfit Logan, the style is different and I don't think it fits but Patton said I can't laugh again. Plus you do kind of pull it off." Virgil cut off Logans apology, knowing that he doesn't need to be sorry for being comfortable, especially after all Logan has done to help Virgil be accepted the way he is with the others.

"Ah yes we'll, I'm glad you understand and think so Virge. Oh by the way have you seen either Remus or Janus up here?" Logan was hoping the stormy side had but sighed a little internally when Virgil shakes his head no. "I don't know why your looking for either of them but if you find Janus do you mind letting him know I need his assistance later?" Virgil asked quietly, the faintest of purple glow in his eyeshadow. "Of course Virgil, I shall make note to let him know if I pass him. See you at dinner." Logan replied kindly, nodding with Virgil as the leave to their respective directions.

Opening his door to his room and seeing his original copy of ' The Murder of Agatha Christie' sitting on his desk instead of the shelf where he left it. Picking up the book with a smile, quickly remembering all the good times he's had reading it. Opening the book the the page he was on and seeing another note beside his bookmark. Taking the note out and setting it on his desk before putting the boom away on the shelf.

Standing infront of his desk as he picks the note back up and reads it.

To My Earth,

The notes may be done but the hunt is on, the basement is where to go, a snake or a rat, either will work, to get you to where you want to go

Sincerely,

your admirer.

Staring at the note for a few minutes, having a very minor brain freeze when reading that the notes have been because the author admires him. Going through a list of random facts to unfreeze his mind from his surprise. Shaking his head lightly before heading out of his room and down to the basement, knowing that only Remus and Janus hang out down here. Logan looked around, not noticing Janus or Remus in their living room. He sighed softly as he sat on one of the couches, thinking over where one of them would be in the mindscape. After about five minutes his thoughts shift to who would send these notes, after all he was the 'nerd' he was logic. Although he didn't enjoy wearing the professional outfits as much as his punk one, he just couldn't get his thoughts to a conclusive answer about why someone would admire him.

Lost in his thoughts he didn't notice Remus come up from who knows where to stand right infront of him.

"HIYA Logan, whatcha doing down here?"

Be startled back into reality, Logan re adjusted his vest while answering, "I was left a note that said to find either you or Janus." Logan replied with a. Faint blush on his face from being caught off guard. He hoped Remus would notice and turn it into something more than it is.

"Oh well, that sounds fun can I help you??"

Remus asked while bouncing on his feet, excited about being able to help someone rather than cause then distress. For a few moments logan questioned why Remus would want to help him rather than cause him his normal headache. Unable to bring himself to a logical conclusion as to why he may be acting like this before handing the note to Remus.

"This is the last note I received however I do not know who the author is, and as it says I was looking for either you or Janus to assist. He finished with an adjustment to his glasses and a faint smile to Remus. As Remus was reading the Note and doing his weird thinking face, Logan took this time to really get a look at Remus, he wasn't in his normal Dukey attire, he was wearing something more akin to how logan was dressed. Studded biker boots, torn and well worn camo shorts, a black sleeveless t-shirt that read 'could be gayer' across the chest and a fully studded and random yet organized patch covered Jacket. Logan laughed a little to himself about the similarities between his and Remus's styles. "Well, Remus, do you know what you are to assist with?"

Almost as if he had forgotten Logan was there Remus blinked then bounced right back into energy town. "I DO!!" He shouted and grabbed logan by the wrist. "I know this seems kinda crazy but just follow me!" Remus bounced forward dragging logan along with him. Ignoring the nice feeling of skin contact, Logan followed after Remus, hoping it wasn't an elaborate prank.

"Okay I'm gonna need you to close your eyes and trust me." Remus asked as he stopped in front of a door Logan didn't recognize. "May I ask why Remus, I do not wish to be the subject of your pranks."

Remus looked at Logan with a large grin and replied simply. "it's a surprise! But also because we have to cut through a part of my imagination. I don't want you to be er.. grossed out?" Remus finished quizzadically, him being considerate of the others feelings was a bit strange to Logan, seeing as Remus rarely did it, however he was more curious as to who the author of the notes was and why they have been giving them to him today if all days. Choosing to ignore the romantic feelings he has for the imaginative side infront of him, since logically if he's helping the author it wouldn't be him.

"Alright Remus, I trust you to keep me safe, we can go when you are ready." Logan adjusted his glasses to look at Remus, who had been staring at logan with a wide grin plastered on, but slowly it wavered as he processed what logan had said. "You...you actually trust me enough to enter my imagination?" He asked, looking down rubbing hands together to keep them busy. Not used to people being okay with one, trusting him and two, someone being okay with going into his half of the imagination.

"Well yes, you may not have the nicest or cleanest thoughts and ideas, but you are a part of Thomas, and to be honest with you Remus, there are times when I prefer yours and Janus's company over the others. You are unpredictable and can be a bit morbid however, I have no reason to not trust you. You have never directly hurt me, and I can easily sink out to safety if need be."

Hoping that Remus hasn't noticed the light blush and emotions in the words he's speaking. Letting out a small breath he didn't realize he was holding as Remus bounced in excitement. "Okay, let's go!"

Grabbing Logan's hand gently instead of wrist this time, Remus pulled logan into his imagination as soon as the other's eyes were closed.

Logan now with his eyes closed and his hand in Remus's, he hoped Remus knew where he was going, but then again, this was his side of the imagination, the place he spends most of his time. So Logan let himself get pulled along what sounded like a dirt path. Every so often he would hear humming from Remus as the walked. It had only been 10 minutes of walking but to Logan it felt like longer. Logan spending more thought on trying to ignore how amazing it feels to be holding Remus's hand than how much time is passing.

"Okay stay right there with your eyes closed." Remus had asked him calmly, with what seemed like nervousness in his voice if only a little.

"Okay Remus, just please no pranks." Logan replied calmly and did as asked. He could hear Remus walk towards and open something but, without the visuals he couldn't identify it, so he waited patiently playing with the various spikes on his wristband. Remus slowly walked back over to Logan, a bouquet of wilted flowers in his hands, tied with a royal blue ribbon, he tried for days to make living flowers but couldn't,

He gently tapped logan on the shoulder.

"okay you can open your eyes now" he said with such gentleness that the other had not heard before, opening his eyes and looking around at his surroundings, he couldn't help but to be shocked. Up in the night sky there were thousands of glowing stars with a large shining moon bathing both men in a calm faintly blue light.

As Logan looked around he noticed the partially alive trees and bushes that surrounded the clearing they were in. Remus had a wonderful imagination, yes there were random creatures wandering around, random dirty jokes personified and many, many creations of unknown identity that Remus has left in places, but it was wonderful in its own way, Chaotic but organized. Elements of each of the sides were visible amount the seeming chaos.

Slowly looking over to Remus, Logan noticed how he was already looking at him, with a goofy grin on his face holding what seemed to be withered flowers. "I know you are a hesitant person sometimes and that you like to do things in the most logical order. However demented or disturbing to the other my ideas and thoughts are, you help them to understand me better. Which I can't thank you enough for. So Logan Sanders...would you like to... Would you like to make macabre and chaotic things with me? LikeBoyfriendsDo? On a regular bases?"

It took a moment for Logan to process all of what Remus had been saying, and if his thinking was right Remus was the author of the notes, and he was asking him out in a very Remus way. Logan blushed heavily as did Remus. Realizing that it was Remus who got him the pin and has been leaving the notes, the metaphorical butterflies in his stomach going into a frenzy.

For once Logan didn't have the words to respond, the side he has had feelings for, for a while is asking him out and to be his boyfriend. Before his logical thinking could stop him he stepped forward grabbing Remus by his jacket collar pulling him into a kiss.

Taking the kiss as a yes, Remus slid his hands around Logan's waist, kissing him back with passion in an attempt to communicate how happy he is. When they pull apart logan looks at him with a sparkle in his eyes that was usually reserved for learning. However right here right now, with Remus, in his imagination logan couldn't be happier, even with all his grossness or disturbing thoughts, Remus was the one for him.

"Thank you, and to verbally express my feelings, I accept your offer to be in a romantic relationship, Darling."

"Haha I figured from the kiss but thank you, to hear you say it makes my heart explode into a million pieces hahah." Leaning his head on Logan's shoulder with a chuckle and very very large grin. The two spent the afternoon and evening exploring the area of Remus's imagination that Remus led him to, making sure to keep mental and physical notes on the things that may stick with Thomas More than they probably should. Almost loosing track of time before checking his wristwatch and seeing that it's almost time for dinner.

"Patton will have dinner ready in 5 minutes, did you want to grab Janus and head up Rem?"

Logan asked Remus inbetween one of his short monologue. Remus's head shot up and he smiled big, bouncing in his boots. "I would love to! And we can just summon Janus if he isn't there already with his double dicked self." Remus laughed at the look on Logans face, knowing that the he has many, many questions to now ask Janus about his snake side.

Heading out of the imagination with Remus' hand in his own, Logan chose to ignore the snake anatomy questions floating in his mind in favor of thinking about how lucky he is to be able to express his romantic feelings and have them reciprocated. Laughing with Remus, his real genuine laugh because Remus made a joke as they walk into the kitchen.

Both stopping their laughter when Roman yells at seeing them, being a very confused prince that the brain and the dark creative sides are holding hands and laughing. Patton squeeking loudly enough to make Janus rise up and Virgil come downstairs. Janus looked over to where Logan and Remus are standing, tipping his hat to the green side with a small smile. Virgil looking at them both in pure confusion before just throwing his arms up in defeat and sitting at the table, blushing more when Janus sits beside him of all places.

Logan and Remus take their seats, still holding hands as they get bombarded with questions. Logan thinking about how glad he is that the notes were finally given to him as Remus tells Patton about how he set it up.

[masterjedilenawrites]

Blueberries and Cowboys: Chapter 3 (Blueberry Path)

A choose-your-own-adventure style fic. Refer to this Masterlist for previous chapters and alternate paths.

Chapter 3: The Preparation (Blueberry Path)

Pairing: Thrawn x reader

Content: Light swearing, reader is an awkward pining idiot, no indication yet if your crush likes you back, but we’re just warming up here...

Length: 1.6k

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

It really would be best for you to go to the gala with Thrawn. It made sense. He was an alien and you were the only girl at the Academy willing to be seen with him. And while Eli wasn't exactly popular, you could easily count how many girls would gladly be his date to a dance. It was just that plain and simple.

And yet, far beyond mere logic and tactics, you were so incredibly happy about it.

You were going to a dance with Thrawn.

It seemed like such a silly, juvenile thing to be excited about. Like you were in primary school with a crush or something. You shook yourself as you got ready in front of your little dorm room mirror, trying not to let those emotions show through your dressed-up appearance. You'd managed to find a decent dress on sale, and your hair cooperated with you for once. You definitely looked better than you usually did.

But you wished you looked more... more. You'd be on the arm of a tall, sophisticated, and, dare you say, strapping man for the evening. And even though you all had other duties to focus on - observing and possibly even manipulating your three targets - you still wanted to be a good date for him. Not some meek, homely person who had no business being anywhere near such a god.

You caught yourself in horror. Where were these thoughts coming from? Thrawn was your friend. A quiet, distant friend who was only going to the dance with you out of necessity. His focus was solely on the plan. You'd helped successfully get Arden and Eva to go to the gala together as dates, and already Commander Burdick was pissed about it. Thrawn had arranged a system for how the three of you would observe, and possibly even intervene, to ensure Burdick decided to pin his sabotage on Arden.

The plan. That was all that mattered tonight. Not how you looked or how Thrawn would look or whether he might ask you to dance.... You almost slapped yourself for thinking such nonsense, but there was a soft knock on the door that called for your attention instead.

Your heart stopped, thinking it would be Thrawn arriving earlier than he'd said, but after psyching yourself up to open the door, you found it was only Eli.

"Do you know how to tie a tie?" he asked with a sheepish smile, holding up a wad of navy blue satin. You suppressed a laugh. He had cleaned up surprisingly well, with a suit and cufflinks and everything. The only thing he'd missed was his hair, which was forever an unruly mess. You could take the the boy out of Wild Space, but you couldn't take the wild out of the boy.

"No," you said, but then you chuckled at his defeated look, opening the door wider for him to enter. "But I'll figure it out."

He heaved a sigh of relief as you let him into your dorm. Thankfully you didn't have any roommates; your old one had transferred out of the Navy halfway through the year, and no one seemed rushed to get you a new one.

Eli stood awkwardly in the middle of the room as you took the tie from him and tried to make sense of it.

"Thrawn was no help?" you asked to fill the silence between you. But also, you were curious how much the Chiss may or may not be getting ready.

"He's been out all afternoon. Somethin' about preparing for tonight." Eli rolled his eyes. "And I don't think he meant it the way you and I are."

You chuckled in agreement. Well, if he wasn't doing anything special to get ready, then maybe you didn't need to worry as much.

"You seem pretty excited," Eli commented.

You shrugged, finally getting the tie around his neck and under the collar of his shirt. "I just like dancing is all."

"You're excited to dance with Thrawn?" he wrinkled his nose at you. Not once had you given Eli any indication you might ever be interested in your mutual friend, mainly because you'd been good at hiding those feelings from yourself, too. You didn't want to give him any reason to start suspecting anything now, so you quickly tried to save face as you continued to fumble with his tie.

"I'm just excited to dance. I don't care who my date is. I'll even dance by myself if I have to."

Thankfully Eli took your words at face value and didn't add any more to the conversation. And by now, you were done trying to figure out this tie. You'd looped it around a couple different ways but nothing seemed right. You huffed and let the material fall against his chest.

"I give up. This isn't as easy as I thought it'd be. Sorry."

Eli shrugged as he pulled it from around his neck and rolled it in his hands. "Eh, it was worth a shot. I can go without it, right?"

He held his hands on his hips and did a playful little pose which made you roll your eyes.

"Sure, you look fine to me. Not sure what your date will think, though. What's her name again?"

"Sadie Amiko. She's in a few of our combat classes."

"Wait, she's not the girl who whispers yes after she punches someone?"

At Eli's awkward smile you started laughing, not having connected the dots before. He'd mentioned who his date was earlier that week and had seemed pretty pleased about it, but you had been too distracted by your own happiness to really pay attention.

"Yes!" you hissed with a little fist pump by your hip, in a perfect rendition of your classmate's ridiculous habit. Eli was trying not to laugh, but he'd mocked her for it before so you knew he found it funny.

"Okay, well, she was the only one I knew of who didn't have a date yet, so...."

"Ah, so she accepted out of desperation."

"You're mean," he pouted. "You better not embarrass me tonight. You never know, I could get lucky."

He started making his way toward the door but paused just as he reached out for the handle and gave you a mischievous look. "Maybe you will, too."

Your heart thudded forcefully in your chest. You weren't sure how you managed to keep your composure and respond so smoothly. "If you mean I'll be lucky enough to stop Thrawn from thinking about this plan for five seconds so I can dance, then yeah, maybe."

"That's exactly what I meant," said Eli in such a way that you knew it wasn't. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from completely freaking out. Where was this coming from? Was he just getting back at you from your teasing, or had he somehow detected the feelings you were having such a hard time controlling tonight? 

"Anyway, you comin' with? I told Sadie I'd meet her there at six."

You glanced at the clock in your room, realizing how late it was and the fact you still didn't have shoes on. You dismissed him with a wave of your hand as you frantically looked for your shoes. "No, Thrawn's coming by any second. We'll see you there."

"Alright... well good luck with that dance!"

It seemed like the door had barely closed after him when the knock came, though realistically it had been a few minutes of you fussing with your appearance one last time. You took several measured breaths to try and get the blush out of your cheeks, before you finally went to open the door.

"Good evening," Thrawn said courteously, holding out a hand.

Whatever composure you thought you had left completely vanished. He was dressed in a sharp, immaculate white suit that made his blue skin so much more striking. He normally looked good, even in the unflattering flight suits, but somehow he was managing to look even better now. More elegant, more stunning, more beautiful.

You could feel his eyes boring holes into you expectantly. You hadn't meant to hesitate and make the moment awkward. You forced yourself to swallow and took his offered hand, hoping he wouldn't notice how clammy it was, or how quickly your pulse was racing. He guided you out of your room, turning to align himself next to you, and placed your hand over his arm. You wondered if he had looked into these gentlemanly customs or if they were similar to Chiss culture. Thrawn made everything seem natural, so it was hard to tell. 

"Is everything alright?" he asked as he began leading you toward the gala. 

Shit, you groaned internally. Of course he noticed how flustered you were. Your hand was resting on his bicep and you were fighting to not take note of how firm it felt.  

"Oh yes," you said quickly, trying to save face. "Just worried about the plan, is all."

"I see," he said in his soft and careful tone. "There is no reason to worry. Our plan is solid, and I spent the afternoon putting a few final details in place. We need only play our parts this evening and it will all work out."

You nodded, though you didn't exactly feel better. Thrawn was only playing a part. You knew you shouldn't have expected anything different, but it still hurt to think about, especially now that you were both dressed up and walking so closely alongside each other. You would just have to get over yourself, you decided. Play the part. Get through the evening.

And it would surely be an interesting evening, if nothing else.

Next Chapter: The Party >

Blueberry Path | Thrawn x reader

Cowboy Path | Eli x reader