#I drew the lines for the new one maybe back in november

[mitamicah]

I wasn't happy with my first gig redraw so I redrew it

Here's my new take on Käärijä in Stockholm ^V^

Comparrison under the line

[silverb0wties]

Lemonade - Part 3

leah williamson x alessia russo x child!reader

Summary: When something bad happens to your Mummy and Daddy, you end up living with your Aunty Lessi and Aunty Leah.  But is there room for you considering they have a new baby on the way?

Chapter Summary:  You go back to school and you try and make yourself useful

Warnings: bullying, homophobia, misogyny 

|| Part 1 || Part 2 ||

PART 3

“30 days has September, April, June and November…”

You had set yourself the task today to make yourself a calendar.  Maths had never been your strongest subject in school, but you were excellent at remembering, so you knew the month song off by heart and were mumbling it to yourself as you began digging into your desk draw to retrieve some art supplies.

The decision to make the calendar had hit you last night when you were reading one of your new library books before bed and the return receipt slipped out of the back cover and onto your lap.  Normally, it was the very first thing you retrieved when you got home from the library, making sure to mark the return dates down on your big white board calendar on the fridge.  But you were still getting used an entirely new routine in your new house and you’d completely forgot to look for the slip.

Now that you had it though, you had to make sure you noted down the dates somewhere you could easily see them.  So, with a few pieces of paper, a ruler and some markers, you drew up a calendar for the next few months.  By checking the borrow date on the receipt and counting how many days it had been since your library visit, you managed to figure out what todays date was.  From there, and with the help of that handy month song, you’d managed to fill in the rest of the dates.   

When it was all completed you stepped back to examine your work.  If you were honest with yourself, your lines could have been drawn straighter and your handwriting could have been much, much neater.  But you didn’t have the energy to redo it, so it would have to do.  For now. 

You surveyed your room for someone to put it.  In your old house your calendar was on the fridge, out in the open for everyone to see and help you keep track of.  Here, it needed to be hidden from your Aunties, so that it was your responsibility, and your responsibility alone, to make sure you were staying on top of everything.

Everything.

A wave of guilt crashed over you as you remembered all the other things you would keep track of on your calendar.  Now that you were a big girl, you had been helping around the house and you had chores.  You would set the table and help take the cups and plates and spoons out of the dish washer (only Mummy and Daddy could touch the knives).  You would also check for mail every morning and there was a pretty purple watering can you got use to water the flowers in the front garden a couple of times a week.

But you didn’t do any of that here at your Aunties house.

Selfish. Selfish. Selfish.

Part of you worried that your Aunties didn’t trust you enough to ask you to help out around the house.  Perhaps they thought you weren’t smart enough or strong enough or big enough to lend a hand.  Or maybe they were secretly mad that you hadn’t insisted on helping and were keeping a top-secret list of all the times you didn’t help out and they would present it to you on a big, long scroll on the day they kicked you out their house.

You shuddered at the thought of that.  That was a day you thought about often.  You didn’t know how many days or weeks or months it was until the baby was here, but surely your time here at your Aunties house was running out.  You needed to do everything in your power to be good until then so that they didn’t kick you out any sooner.  

That night before tea, you made sure to wash your hands extra good before heading into the kitchen where your Aunty Lessi was cooking.  

“Aunty Lessi, could I set the table?”

“Oh sure!  If you’d like.  Just give me a moment and I’ll show you where everything is.”

You grinned in silent satisfaction, glad that it seemed like your Aunty wasn’t outright opposed to you proving your worth.  After your Aunty Lessi finished with whatever she was stirring on the stove, she led you over to various cupboards and drawers and pointed out where the placemats, plates and cutlery lived.  Whilst there were a few plastic cups in the same cupboard as the plates for you to use, the glasses your Aunties drank out of were on a higher shelf that were too high for you to reach.

“Don’t worry about those, I can grab them” she insisted.

“I could get a chair or something to stand on?”

“Don’t be silly, Bun Bun.  I’ll get them.  Thank you for getting everything else though.”

Silly. Silly. Silly.

Once you were all sat down for dinner, you watched your Aunty Lessi spin spaghetti around her fork before you took a deep breath in and began.

“Did I do okay at setting the table?”

“You did a great job, Bunny!” Your Aunty Leah was smiling big and bright at you.  She had a bit of sauce on her chin, but you thought it would be rude to tell her.

“Do you think I could do it every night?” you asked.

“Uhh… I mean, if you want to, sure.”

Victory.  One chore to add to the calendar.

“What about the post?  Can I be in charge of checking that too? Does it come in the mornings?”

You observed as your Aunties caught eyes with each other across the table, seeming to have a silent conversation.

“Umm, yes I suppose you could do that if you like,” Aunty Lessi nodded.

“Great!  And I can help empty the dishwasher.  No knives of course, but I can do spoons and plates and bowls and cups and stuff.  And maybe I can water some of your flowers, or all of them?  Or I can learn how to do other stuff too.  Like I could figure out how to do the laundry or clean the bathrooms or anything you want really…”

You hadn’t really realised, but you had pulled your knees up to your chest as your rant had gone on.  Your head was now resting on top of them as you looked eagerly between your Aunties, waiting for their response.  They were doing the silent conversation thing again.

“You don’t need to do all those things sweetheart.  We appreciate you offering, but maybe we’ll wait until you’re a bit older to do things like the laundry and stuff, yeah?” your Aunty Lessi responded.

You felt your stomach drop.  Your Aunty Lessi’s voice was kind, but you knew what her words meant.  They didn’t think you were big enough to help.

“How about we start off with setting the table for tea and checking the mail?  You’re still just settling in here, so we don’t wanna overload you with too much stuff to remember to do.”

--

It may have been bright and sunny outside, but today was a day you had been absolutely dreading.  You had decided to hang your calendar on the back of your bedroom door so that nobody but you would see it, and you had made sure to mark this day with a bright red circle and big a sad face.  Today was the day you were going back to school. 

You weren’t sure how it was decided or who decided, but you’d had a couple of weeks away from school after the fire and now it was time to go back.

You had only been back at school for 3 weeks of the new school year before the fire happened, so your parents had only just bought you brand-new dresses and shoes to replace the previous ones you’d outgrown.  Your pencil case had been filled with fresh crayons and sharp pencils, and you’d only just put a really cool new bunny sticker that your Uncle Gio had given you on your lunchbox.  But now, you had to start all over again.

So today, as you sat in front office with your Aunties, you were wearing a brand-new school dress and shoes and socks and Aunty Lessi had done your hair in a pretty braid with some pretty ribbons.  You also had a brand-new backpack and lunch box and pencil case, and you even had a brand-new iPad in a shiny purple case. 

In theory, you were all set to go.

But just under the surface, just beneath the layer of hairspray and the stiff gingham fabric, you were absolutely dreading heading back to the big noisy classroom and scary, sticky playgrounds.

You didn’t have heaps of friends at school like most of the other kids seemed to have.  You did have one good friend though.  Nora.  She also really liked to read and was super into comic books and superheros.  You didn’t really understand why she liked them, but you were more than happy to listen to her when she wanted to tell you all about them.  You would then tell her some cool bunny facts in return. 

This year the school librarian, Mr Webster, had let you both work on a big jigsaw puzzle every lunchtime.  He kept it safe and flat on a special piece of wood that he hid on top of his bookshelf in his office when you weren’t working on it.  It was a really, really big puzzle with loads more pieces than any other puzzle either of you had ever done before.  You were both determined to finish it before Christmas, but you weren’t sure if Nora had kept going while you were away.  You hoped she had but you also secretly hoped there was still some pieces left for you to do.  

Unlike previous years, Nora wasn’t in your class this year.  You were in Mrs Green’s class, and she was in Miss Roberts’ class.  You’d both written a letter to each teacher requesting to be swapped into each other’s class, but it hadn’t worked.  You were stuck alone in the classes you were in, and honestly, you were miserable. 

You see, it wasn’t that you didn’t have any other friends, that didn’t bother you much at all.  It was the fact that a bunch of the other kids seemed to actively dislike you.  In fact, the thing they seemed to like most in the whole world was picking on you.  They called you names and pulled on your hair and threw things at you.  You couldn’r really pinpoint exactly when it all started, but your first and most vivid memory was when Mitchell Timms had snatched your copy of The Worst Witch out of your hands one lunch time.  He threw it in a muddy puddle and stomped on it until all the pages were torn and the words had jumbled together.  When you ran over to try and save the book, a gift you’d received on your latest birthday, Mitchell just laughed at you and called you a “loser weirdo”. 

For the first 3 weeks of school this year, you had been sat next to a boy named Ollie and it had been awful.  He kept bumping your arm on purpose while you were trying to write and had laughed whenever you got frustrated that you had to erase and redo your mistakes.  One time he had even pulled your chair out from underneath you when you went to sit down, leading you to land on your bottom on the floor with a thud.  The whole class had pointed and laughed at you.  You had run out of the classroom and hid under a bench to try and calm yourself down.

When the teacher came to find you, you were curled in a ball, rubbing your Pocket Arthur softly against your cheek.  Pocket Arthur was your school buddy.  When you’d moved up from Reception into Primary School, your parents had bought you a miniature version of Arthur that you could keep tucked away in your pocket.  They said that now that you were going to big school, Arthur could no longer come along with you, but they wanted to make sure you still had a little buddy to always keep you company.  So, he was your Pocket Arthur, or Pockie for short. 

But he died in the fire too.

Failure. Failure. Failure.

So, on the night before you went back to school, you’d searched through your room, trying to find something to fill the big empty space left by Pockie when he died – the pocket of your school dress.  You tried crumpling up a wad of tissues, but the texture of it was all wrong.  Next you tried a balled-up pair of socks, but it felt scratchy when you tried rubbing it against your cheek.  You looked over the stuffies your Aunties had bought you, but they were all far too big to fit in your pocket.    

One of the stuffies caught your eye however as your dug through the little pile of toys.  It was on the bottom of pile, and you hadn’t seen it since you moved here.  It was a lovely and soft grey kangaroo, with pointy ears and a long tail.  You rather liked kangaroos, because while they were a completely different species to bunnies and could only be found in the wild in Australia, they kind of reminded you of really big rabbits.  As you pressed the soft fur to your cheek, something small fell in your lap.  Picking it up, you realised it was a baby kangaroo.  It must have fallen from the big kangaroo’s pouch.  It was perfect.  The perfect size, the perfect feel, the perfect squish.  You rubbed it against your cheek.  Bliss.  Holding it gently in your little hands, you squinted your eyes and ran your thumbs across the soft fur trying to figure out the perfect name for your new pocket pal.  Bailey.  She seemed like a Bailey.

And it was Bailey who you clung to, you hand shoved deep in your pocket, when the Headteacher Mrs Brinley called you all into her office.

You watched as both your Aunty Lessi and Aunty Leah shook hands with Mrs Brinley and then you all sat down on big uncomfortable chairs across the table from her.  You’d never been in her office before, so you took a moment to look around, noticing a bunch of certificates in big frames on the wall, a huge bookcase full of books and some photos of who you assumed were her family.

“Well, while we were very, very sad to hear about what has happened, we are glad that Y/K is back at school with us.  Hopefully being back in class will help her with getting back to her regular routine and schedule and assist her in feeling more settled.”

Her voice wasn’t unkind, but everything she said always sounded like she’d been rehearsing for it like it was a speech she had to give in front of the whole school.

“We have both of your phone numbers, as well as the number for your workplace, and we will call you should there be any issues.  But I’m sure Y/K will do just fine.”

Your Aunty Leah gently squeezed your hand that wasn’t firmly stuffed in your pocket, clinging onto Bailey for dear life.

“Mrs Green is going to meet you just back out in the front office and she will walk you up to class.  So, unless anyone has any questions, I’ll let you all get to it.”

You all shuffled back out the front office, where your teacher was waiting for you.  Aunty Lessi knelt down and gave you a big cuddle.

“Okay Bunny. You have fun on your first day back, alright?  And if anything goes wrong, or you don’t feel good or you feel sad… you just let your teacher know to call us okay.”

Aunty Leah leaned over and gave you a kiss on the forehead and stroked your cheek.  “You’ve got everything you need in your backpack, so you’re all set to go.  You’ve got this.”

“Okay.”

“We love you.”

The walk to your classroom was mostly filled with your teacher telling you about all the things you’d missed while you’d been away from school.  A little bubble of dread was beginning to build in your stomach as you realised all the work you now had to catch up on.  But by lunchtime that bubble had been replaced by a boulder.

Holding your lunch box and book tight to your chest, you looked around the hall for a spare seat.  Normally, you and Nora would sit together to eat your lunch and then go to the library, but to make a bad day even worse Nora was away from school today.  You had spent a solid 5 minutes looking for her, but according to a student in her class she’d had to stay home because she a nasty tummy bug.

The hall was quickly filling up as students grabbed their hot meals or lunch boxes and sat down at their chosen tables.  It quickly became apparent that the only spot left was one on the end of a table filled with some of the children who didn’t like you.  You’d spent so long looking for Nora, you’d been left with no other option.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

With a deep breath, you headed over to the table.  You sat quietly in the seat, hoping you would go unnoticed.

You didn’t.

“Why you sitting with us, Y/K?  Isn’t there anyone else you can sit with?” Jessica asked as you unzipped your lunch box.  You just shook your head in response.  A chorus of grumbles followed from the rest of the kids sitting at the table.

“Eww yuck, why does she have to sit with us?”  

“Where’s her weirdo friend?”

“Maybe she can sit on the floor instead.”

You just tried to tune them out, grabbing a sandwich out of your lunch box to munch on.  Your first bite was interrupted when the boy sitting beside you, Max, nudged you.

“Hey, were those your new Mums who brought you into school today?”

You hastily swallowed your sandwich, wanting to explain. “They’re my-” It was no use.  The group quickly began announcing their thoughts on the matter before you had a chance to correct them.

“Two Mums?  How can someone have TWO Mums?  That’s not right.”

“Yeah, my Dad says that it’s disgusting when two boys or two girls are married or kiss and stuff!”

“Oh yeah, like, have you ever saw two lads kiss? It’s weird!”

“I saw two ladies kissing when my Pop took me to the football last week.  He said they were going straight to hell!”

“As if she wasn’t weird enough, now she’s got two Mums too!”

Something inside you snapped, and you found yourself with your fists clenched and your cheeks red, Bailey long forgotten in your pocket.

“Yeah, well, they’re not my Mums, they’re my Aunties.  And they’re really nice and really clever and super cool.  And they play football for England, and and for the red and white club with the cannon!  And my Aunty Leah is the captain and everything! So that’s cooler than any of your families, ever!”

There was a short silence before they all started laughing.

“Girl’s football!  That doesn’t count!”

“That’s not real football!”

“Arsenal!  Pfffft.”

“I can’t wait to tell my Dad about this.”

“One of them looked pregnant when I saw them outside the office.  There’s no way they let her play like that!”

“That’s why they shouldn’t let girls play!”

“Wait, how is she having a baby if there’s no Daddy to put the baby in her?”

Whilst the rest of the comments had begun to muddle together and fade into the background as you tuned them all out, this last one pierced through.  Your head shot back in the direction of Jessica, the girl who had asked the question.  She was looking straight at you with her eyes squinted, twirling a strand of her hair around her pointer finger.

You hadn’t ever stopped to think about this.  To be honest you’d never really been interested in where babies came from.  You knew that whilst it varied from breed to breed, bunnies were pregnant for an average of 31 days and had litters of babies.  You also knew that humans usually only had one baby at a time and they were pregnant for around 9 months.  But you didn’t know how either bunnies or humans became pregnant.  Honestly, you were stumped.

“Guess you didn’t learn that in any of your stupid books, huh? Loser.”

[fireflyinks]

snow angels

neil perry and todd anderson are going to make snow angels together, he promised.

a/n : now who hurt me enough to write this? anywho this is my first time writing for anderperry OR a non "x reader" fic, so be gentle with me <3 i am so sorry in advance

contains : ANGST ANGST ANGST, death (obviously, are you new to this fandom?)

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

Neil laid on his stomach, raking over his script for what seems to be the one millionth time. His pages were covered with bright yellow highlighter, and though he’d read the script repeatedly and neurotically, he couldn’t help but go over his lines just one more time for the night. That was until he noticed Todd across the room, sitting on his bed and staring out the window. 

Todd quickly snapped out of his trance at the brunette boy’s words, forcing a quick smirk. “Oh- it’s nothing, Neil.” 

Neil raised his eyebrows, expectantly. It was never “nothing” like Todd always claimed it to be. “Nothing” doesn’t cause you to stare dully out a window with your lips slightly parted and a pouty look in your eyes. 

Todd closed his eyes momentarily before he began his explanation. 

“I was just thinking… it’s going to snow soon.” 

Neil lifted his eyebrows once more, “That was what had you so deep into thought? Snow?” 

Todd lightly chucked. He had to admit, it sounded dumb. But then he continued. “Neil… I’ve never made a snow angel.” 

“You’re kidding? Never?” He wasn’t sure why this shocked him so much, but it did. Neil thought back to childhood, laying in the fluffy snow as he stared up at the sky and moved his limbs out, then in. Out, then in. Out, then in. 

He thought of the sky when it snows. How there looks to be nothing there but a pit of light, shedding sprinkles of tiny frozen magic onto the world. 

“I always wanted to but Jeffrey never wanted to play with me and my mom and dad never let me go out in the snow alone.”

Neil felt a pang in his chest hearing this. He’d known Todd’s home life was far from satisfactory, and had even invented a flying desk set to comfort Todd through that, but no snow angels? It must’ve been torture; being a little kid, forced to stay inside on a snow day! 

“I’ll tell you what…” Neil stood up from his bed and scampered over to the blonde boy. “When it finally snows… me and you are going to make snow angels galore. Welton’s gonna be full of them, you won’t be able to go anywhere without seeing them!” 

Todd laughed at this. He loved the way Neil got riled up over the smallest things, and he appreciated it too. 

“You promise?”

Neil smiled widely, “I promise.” 

“Matter of fact,” Neil continued, lying back on his bed, facing towards the ceiling, “let’s practice!” 

Todd laid back as well, mirroring Neil’s motions. They drew their arms and legs out, then in. Out, then in. Out, then in. All while laughing like maniacs. 

“Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!” The pair sang in unison dandily, not caring that it was November 15th, and snow wouldn’t come until mid December. If they sang, maybe it’d come sooner. 

��

A month later, it came. The flurries rushed down as the blonde boy fell back into the fluffy snow. It was beautiful, something that Todd had only ever seen out of his bedroom window. 

He did as they had rehearsed, drawing his arms and legs out, then in. Out, then in. Out, then in. He wasn’t as great as he had been when they’d practiced. He was never great without Neil. 

Todd felt bad for disrupting the peacefulness that it brought upon the world, leaving his damned imprint on the flawless snow. 

Yet there was no peace. There was no Neil. 

No, that wasn’t right. That couldn’t be right, Todd thought. He wouldn’t leave us. 

It couldn’t possibly be true. Neil had promised him snow angels, he wanted snow angels. For the first time in his entire life, Todd demanded something; snow angels. 

In a way, he got them. But it wasn’t what he imagined. 

Quite honestly, he couldn’t care less about the damn snow angels. 

“Neil,” He spoke through gritted teeth, “I want Neil!”

He’d asked Neil for snow angels, and he’s gotten them. Maybe he could ask the snow for Neil, and he’d get him. 

That’s not how it works, he thought to himself, sprawled stiffly on the ground. You’re delirious. 

“Todd!” Charlie came running towards him, along with the rest of the poets. “Let’s get you inside. You’re gonna freeze to death out here!” 

“No- no…” Todd protested, not taking his eyes away from the sky and how it spouted flurries of white. “Neil promised me the snow angels, gotta make snow angels. He’s not gone, we still gotta make snow angels.” 

“Todd…” Knox began, trying to help him up, only to be met with the same  barbaric yawp Todd had sounded moments before to the snow. 

The boys finally got him off the ground with much force. Tears trickled down his cheeks and threatened to freeze to his face as he was brought back inside the school. He babbled incoherently, Charlie thought he heard “Neil promised me”, “He wouldn't lie”, “I’m no good at it without Neil”, and other sorrowful phrases.

[fantasy-drawings-ra]

Here are some miscellaneous fanart sketches I’ve made over the past few months some dating back to November. (I might post all the oc art I’ve made over the same amount of time hopeful soon.)

I hope you like them!

Drawing description with bonus notes: (all of them are in drawn in pencil. I thought I should also mention that as well. ☺️)

Image 1 - is Princess Peach from the new Princess Peach Showtime sporting her new ribbon instead of her crown looking to the viewer at a 3/4 angle and shot. She is turned to our left and has her hands pushed flat together up in an excited or hopeful manner with a warm smile. She’s also in her signature outfit. (I’ve just been really excited for this game and wanted to draw her I tried swordfighter peach first and then normal but neither looked as good as I was hoping. But I’m happy this one at least looks nice! ☺️👍)

Image 2 - Is Mitsumi Iwakura from Skip and Loafer where her eyes are looking over her shoulder at a 3/4 angle headshot in the direction of our right. With a big smile wearing her uniform.

(It’s a really cute show and has made its way up to one of my Favorite shows to watch now. I would really recommend it!)

Image 3 - Is Lotte Jansson from Little Witch Academia. Where she is looking over her shoulder with her head fully turned to the right and her body slightly to the left. It is a headshot at a 3/4 angle also wearing the robe from the show.

(Also a very fun and a comforting show to watch especially with some episodes being really enjoyable to rematch and two special/movies? I wasn’t sure who to draw at first and maybe I’ll draw the rest of the cast in the future but I remember drawing this after rewatching it and feeling comforted when I was really feeling down a few months ago.)

Image 4 - is based on the Steven Universe comic draw your comfort characters meme with Descole and Kuromi I drew a month ago. Where Descole is looking down to our right downtrodden in his full Descole outfit (cloak, boa, hat, mask), . 3/4 angle with Kuromi looking vaguely into the distance with her little hand on his arm. Her height is about around his upper arm. The caption is:

Kuromi “I think we’re going to kill this guy Des.”

Desmond “Damn!”

Image 5 - is of Zelkov from Fire Emblem Engage. It isn’t much just a 3/4 angle shot looking to our right with his eyes slightly down with a neutral/ slightly curious expression. From head to the neck. I might finish it at a later date.

(But I wanted to draw him after seeing a funny out of context Zelkov moments video on YouTube and then all of his supports with the characters and just really liking his character. Like what a funny guy and his line deliveries are just ✨👌 extraordinary!)

Image 6 - is Clark Kent from My Adventures with Superman. He is looking hopeful with his head facing to the left over his shoulder, he’s stops from walking to the right. From head to waist shot, 3/4 angle. Wearing his sweater vest and shirt combo and his signature glasses.

(Drew this back in maybe December? When I watching this and it was a really cute show, it was a nice superman adaptation and I like his dynamic with the cast so I tried my hand at drawing him.)

End of description

[deadpuppetboi]

Today marks the very day that the controversial video game Manhunt was released to the general public on November 18, 2003.

It had it all.

Blood, gore, executions, a dark storyline, and even sparse storytelling are untold unless you look deep into each character’s voice lines. Many I’ve looked deep into, made many notes about, wrote stories based on the characters, and even drew art inspired by the whole game.

Truth is, I was hooked, and even now, I still am despite how much Rockstar refuses to revive the series.

To me, Manhunt has a chance to come back better than ever with a new storyline, new graphics, better writing, and even a continuation of the series' unanswered questions.

Who is Mr. Nasty?

What happened to Cash?

What happened to Carcer City?

What became of Valient Video Enterprises?

So many questions that need to be answered or maybe just a remake or a remaster of the game itself to bring in fans both new and old.

20 years later, Manhunt stands in videogame history by being one of the most controversial games with its violence, gore, and general horror within itself.

And I love it.

Happy Birthday, Manhunt, thank you for giving me nightmares and creative liberty as far as the eye can see.

Maybe one day more people will give you the love and attention you deserve but until then, I’ll still be here appreciating all the chaos and horror you have to offer.

[infamyoverinnocence]

great blank shadows cover your blessings. you paint a picture, but it takes an artist for a mural; to build up one that lasts.

this afternoon has brought me a lot. thinking like always, and more so anger than it all. not towards him, but you. cant be mad at what he didnt know, and in a situation where we all lose it feels like im the only one impacted. basement truths turn little white mattress lies, and futures in fragmented glass jars. my worlds a problem but my in-betweens are worse. worse than my head constantly in the clouds. worse than that dizzying feeling before the rest of the world blacks out and my only familiarity is your hands. where the ice fades like glass and crashes on crystal eyes that see clear by the headstrong collision and eyes locked, sewn on mine. i miss your shortcuts and white veiled ribbon wrists. your lithium eyes and kaleidoscope heart; the part that kissed every scar on the skin of my arms and the tip of my tongue, and somehow made it feel better. maybe my anger is the fact you never cared. because things got funny. you made a promise you never kept, and still i hope that when a new november pasts, your voice is on the other line. its unfair you have a floral garden to fall back on, while mine is dried bones and stock packaged nicotine. infamy far over innocence. my velvet days and soft skin speeches that told you, "if i love you, i want you to be happy." far before the tears in my eyes and the way i was conditioned to fall on my knees, but to you i was time passed, and my case is never closed. colliding heads and hearts underneath the suffocating pressure (pleasure) of it all. until then, ill thank your hands and how they move in the dark. messy and precise. intricate and intimate. meticulous and technical. cheer and a toast to you, my final goodbye and last final forever. the last finale that never was; a marriage grace that knew no bounds. the sunshine drew me in far the highest. melody your voice and the hands that took my heart beating and never gave it back. i wish this was a simple process. a simple form of immortality that rings genuine to never dying. concrete shoulders and bodies that burn faster than any flame. infinity means never forgetting. simple things like the way your sanity slips. a hand to hold farther for comfort. i still remember the night you told me my eyes said "i love you" far before my mouth did, and i never noticed you were trying to say it back.

"everybodys talking bout

the way you left your man,

ao, wave goodbye

and everybodys talking bout

the way you held his hand

so, we'll grip real tight"

xx postyardburial.

[newyorkmylife]

Love, red. Winter, blue.

December 31, 2024 2am

Keywords of my daily life recently:

holidays (seriously, I'm sick of this!)

winter (seriously, I'm sick of this!)

sun (seriously, why is it gray every day? I'm sick of this!)

dark chocolate (please, I need more. 70% cocoa content or higher)

love (is it real? how can I let myself fall into its sweet embrace?)

anxiety (why and where did it come from?)

zelda (yes, I finally started playing again and it feels so good)

silver-linings (am I turning the corner?)

Quick recap of November (and it absolutely does not make justice to all that happened): a few days before my trip to Japan - as the month of October was on the verge of ending - the landlord told me he didn't want my girlfriend to stay over even 1 night a week. It naturally followed that I had to find a solution and to me it was finding and moving to a studio apartment. Fast forward to today and I think I did an amazing job. I got a good deal, but man how hectic it was to find this in a few days and MAN how crazy life got for a few hours between 4pm and 7pm on October 31.

Then came my friends' wedding in Japan. I absolutely adore them, they're my model couple and I do aspire to have the life they have - and their kindness and confidence in their everyday life together. The time I spent in Tokyo was fantastic - as it is every time I visit. Needless to say, the sun was shining bright and hot for early November. Also, I finally got to visit South Korea for the first time. It was only 2 days in Seoul, but BOY OH BOY, MAAAN OOOH MAAAN did I spend every single split second intensely aware of the whole experience. I met my old friend who was one of my very first friends here in Toronto and he showed me around like I never imagined one could show someone around.

After the trip I had to come back to reality. I was still adapting to the new job and had some tasks to finish. The pace slowed down as December drew closer. At first it felt easier, but it did come with a major drawback: more bureaucracy. Head-implosive, gray-matter-corrosive, rat-spinning-on-a-wheel kind of bureaucracy. Fast forward to today and I've realized that the morning meetings are picking at my brain like a woodpecker on a tree after a spring rain. I'm asking for mercy. Relieve me of the burden of daily 1-hour meeting where I'm involved for only 5 minutes. And don't get me started on the amount of context switching that has killed my ability to concentrate. But that's what we do for money, right? Shareholder value!

That and the seemingly unending gray days of the Great Lakes. As if I didn't know that every year the holiday season felt like this. Made worse by the brainlessness of corporate culture and the empty holiday wishes it comes with.

Fuck off, pass me my mango milk drink and sunglasses.

The good news: I have a beautiful, sweet, caring, loving girlfriend. She's always there for me and makes sure to brighten my day with little gestures. I'm baffled by how that is not making me jump from joy. Although I'm really happy when I see her, it feels like the happiness fades pretty quickly and I am overwhelmed by negative thoughts. At first I thought I had let myself go and the negativity came purely from the inside, but I suspect a solid case of winter sadness. The lack of sunshine and reduced physical activity must be taking a toll on the amount of serotonin in my brain (hence the dark chocolate as a much-needed elixir of joy). Two days ago, I woke up motivated to fight the winter (maybe because there was a sliver of sunshine that without realizing it had gave me that motivation by hitting my eyes as I woke up). I set a goal of 20,000 steps for the day, had a small lunch and headed off to the lakeshore. During the while I also ran spontaneously after a very long time trying to strengthen my calf as I've been dealing with a long overdue injury. That afternoon spent around town, walking and running, spinning around... it felt like life was life-ing. It felt like life had gotten back into me. And it gave me confidence to keep improving, get stronger and finally get back to running (and build a habit of it while I'm at it).

The second last day of the year is concluding (I'm already 2 hours into the 31st). I've been trying to act like it's not holiday season and have barely begun to think back to everything that happened in 2024. What is left now is to enjoy New Year's Eve with my girlfriend. What do I even have to complain about?

[xtruss]

How Did the Teddy Bear Get Its Name? President Theodore Roosevelt Had Something To Do With It. So Did A Real Bear.

— By Erin McCarthy | August 30, 2024

The Teddy Bear Has a Very Specific Origin Story. Carol Yepes, Getty Images

Perhaps the question first occurred to you in the toy aisle when you were picking out a present for the kid in your life. Or maybe it was when you were cleaning out your old toys from the attic of your childhood home that you asked yourself, “How did stuffed bears come to be called ‘teddy bears,’ anyway?”

It’s a story involving President Theodore Roosevelt, a bear hunt, a political cartoon, and a candy shop owner in New York.

The Hunt

The Cartoons

The Toy

The Hunt

In November 1902, Mississippi governor Andrew H. Longino invited Roosevelt on a bear hunt, and the president—who would be in the state to try to settle a border dispute it was having with Louisiana—eagerly accepted.

His luck, however, was terrible: For the first few days, there was not a bear to be found near Roosevelt, let alone shot. Anyone on the hunting party who did spot an ursine was forced to hold their fire. According to biographer Edmund Morris in Theodore Rex, Roosevelt “insisted on first blood,” writing ahead of the trip, “I am going on this hunt to kill a bear, not to see anyone else kill it.”

President Theodore Roosevelt speaking to onlookers in Vermont. Historical, GettyImages

(Roosevelt had an interesting history with bears: He was nearly killed by a grizzly on a solo hunt in Montana in 1889, and some of his supporters from West Virginia sent him “a small bear”—which his children named Jonathan Edwards, after the revivalist preacher—as a pet in 1900. He wound up giving the bear to the Bronx Zoo the next year because “we do not have the accommodations to keep him.”)

Things came to a head on November 14. Holt Collier—a formerly enslaved man and legendary bear hunter who was serving as Roosevelt’s tracker—and his dogs flushed out a black bear into a clearing where the president was supposed to be waiting. The dogs chased the bear into a pond, where, Morris wrote, “Collier threw a lariat over the shaggy neck and pulled tight … and cracked the bear’s skull with the butt of his gun—carefully, because he wanted it to stay alive.”

Unfortunately, Roosevelt was not where Collier thought he would be. After waiting in the designated area for hours, the president and his hunting companion assumed no bear was coming and returned to camp for lunch. A messenger was dispatched to get Roosevelt, who rushed back to the scene to kill the bear—but when he saw that the scrawny creature was tied to a tree, he refused to shoot it. Someone else ended up killing the bear (not with a gun, but with a knife).

Ultimately, Roosevelt didn’t bag a single bear on the trip—but in a strange twist, he would soon end up lending his name to one.

The Cartoons

Reporters checked in on the hunt once a day, and it wasn’t long before reports of Roosevelt’s refusal to kill a restrained bear made the papers; the president was lauded for his sportsmanlike behavior. (The papers had harsher words for the bear, derided as “incorrigible and uncultured,” and for “these Mississippi people,” which one paper opined “seem as ignorant of modern methods as they are lacking in the finesse and technique of true sport.”)

Washington Post political cartoonist Clifford K. Berryman, reading about the event, found himself struck by inspiration: He drew a black bear—“a poor measly little cub with most of its fur rubbed off,” he would later write—with a white handler holding its leash. Roosevelt holds one hand out; in the other is his gun, butt on the ground, muzzle up. The illustration appeared on November 16, 1902, and was captioned “Drawing the Line in Mississippi.”

“Drawing the Line in Mississippi” by Clifford K. Berryman. Library of Congress//Public Domain

“I drew the cartoon of it from the description as sent by the Associated Press,” Berryman recounted later. One senator “thought it so good that he ’phoned to me and asked me to make another bear cartoon when Roosevelt returned to the city.” The resulting illustration, published November 19, was captioned “After a Twentieth Century Bear Hunt.”

“It seemed to make a hit,” Berryman said, “with the result that I continued the bear in all future cartoons in which the President appeared.” The bear got more adorable with time; you can see all of Berryman’s bear illustrations in this collection from the Theodore Roosevelt Center.

The Toy

As Berryman created illustration after illustration featuring Roosevelt and an adorable bear, Morris Michtom sensed an opportunity. The Brooklyn-based candy store owner had his wife Rose hand-sew a cuddly stuffed bear, which he placed in their store window; it quickly sold. Rose made more, ultimately selling so many that the Michtoms began mass producing what they called “Teddy’s Bears” in 1903 (apparently with Roosevelt’s blessing, though the president apparently believed the toy would amount to nothing). Around the same time, the German toy company Steiff made its own stuffed bears, shipping 3000 of them to U.S. toy stores. Soon, the cuddly toys were going by “Teddy Bears.”

Teddy Bear With Teddy Roosevelt Tag. Hulton Archive, GettyImages

Roosevelt himself used the teddy bear in his 1904 re-election campaign, even though he hated the nickname Teddy (perhaps because it was used by his first wife, Alice, who died after giving birth to their daughter, also named Alice). When a lawyer used the nickname in his presence, Roosevelt declared it an “outrageous impertinence.”

The toy took off, selling in the tens of thousands, enduring a brief controversy, and paving the way for beloved bears like Winnie the Pooh, who was inspired by a teddy bear purchased for A.A. Milne’s son Christopher.

There was also an unsuccessful imitator: Billy Possum, which was presented to then-President William Taft, Roosevelt’s successor, on a trip to Atlanta in January 1909 and was, according to the Theodore Roosevelt Center, “designed to replace Theodore Roosevelt’s ‘Teddy Bear.’ ” Taft endorsed the cause, and soon, there were Billy Possum stuffed animals, buttons, and posters. But Billy Possum was ultimately a failure; the toy’s time in the spotlight was over by the time the holiday season rolled around in December.

The teddy bear, however, has never ceased to be popular. Today, the stuffed animal remains a popular gift and the industry was valued at about $6.4 billion in 2022. It’s also the state toy of Mississippi, and a Michtom-made bear owned by Roosevelt’s descendants has a spot in the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History.

[piano-sideblog]

I wanted to maybe work a bit more on this but I wanted it to be my last drawing I posted in 2023 so well! Anyway this drawing was hell to make, not because of the drawing itself (though it was difficult and frustrating sometimes) but because of other things. First, I started it in November, as a simple sketch, then decided to clean it up. I loved it, and dexided to continue and maybe "fully" finish it (though I don't think adding color is always "finishing" a drawing. I really like how my lines turned out. Then I did a huge ass line in the middle of the drawing by accident, didn't save, closed Krita while trying to delete it (my tablet controls have just a little bar and you have to swipe up to leave a program. It's like this because I play pjsk lol) and when I open it up again, IT'S RIGHT THERE AND I CANT UNDO IT. This wouldn't be such a big issue if I didn't love using the pencil like brushes, that don't have 100% opacity and are a bit transparent if you aren't using a lot of pressure to draw. So it showed under the other lines, and you can still see it on the final if you look for it, or maybe even if you didn't. Anyway, I couldn't draw the lines again because I knew they wouldn't be the same and it would interrupt the flow of the drawing, so I

Closed Krita and didn't open it back up for a month. So, now a few days ago I open it because I want to draw and see the drawing. I say, "well, I want to finish it, despite this, and I bet I can do it!! I can't waste such a good sketch/drawing!" And I got to working on it again. I deleted the line and saved. Then I, for 1 hour and something, worked on it, perfected it, erased and drew more stuff. Then I saved (OR SO I THOUGHT!) And a few hours later opened Krita again. Krita says, as always, hey!!! We have 2 versions of your drawing!!! Do you want the one you saved or the one we auto saved? . Ofc I pick mine, the one I KNEW I saved, and the other gets deleted because that's just what happens.

It was the old one that I saw seconds later on screen and I PANICKED. Then I, after not finding the new version anywhere, for half an hour, desperately searched reddit to see if I could get my drawing back. No. So. All progress lost. Then I said FUCK I'm not giving up!! No!! And continued despite everything very bravely (crying, shaking, etc). Then I get to the colours. I color Diavlo's skin and horns. I love it. I go down to his shirt and I'm so lost it's unbelievable. I go to Luvli and can't pick ANY colors because I just didn't like anything I chose!!! I didn't know what to do. I still did something anyway and then changed it again and again. In the end, I think the colors are alright. Not super wow but I've always had a problem with coloring so I think it's good anyway. I had problems with the following (I'm a baby):

.Diavlo's shirt(s) colors. I still think the color doesn't suit him that much. I wanted something fun but not that bright but also not that dark. Something cool. I didn't have any idea what to do. Ofc Diavlo's red, but red just didn't suit him I don't know why!!!

.Luvli's dress. I realized after painting it that it was too plain, and needed something. I avoided the drawing for half an hour because I decided to give it sparkles and didn't know what to do. I'm afraid it looks like she has dots on her dress, despite rechecking it 100 times.

. Luvli's... Uuuh.. antenna? Idk. Seems out of place, originally her hair was bigger but I realized it was too big for what I wanted. It just looks weird, but I wasn't going to take it out, I feel it's a very important part of Luvli. If she was completely human then maybe I could give her a fun headband but you know it'd be weird to have her with wings and not the little green thing.

. Diavlo's right arm. And left. But right first. It was in a very different position, and it showed off Luvli's open part of her dress, which was something I was determined to keep no matter how much I changed. Unfortunately, as I was coloring, I felt Diavlo's arm looked weird, so ultimately I changed it and slightly changed the position of Luvli's dress opening part. I still don't know if it looks the greatest, but it feels better to have him hold her by the hip than to have his arm randomly in front of her hips.

. Diavlo's left arm!!!! not that complicated really I'm just exaggerating hehe lol but I was angry because in the version I lost I feel I did a better job than on this one. But well what's done is done.

. Luvli's skin tone 😭. Genuinely every color I chose made her look either like a corpse or it was weirdly grey or orange. At one point I just put a bit of red over her to make her a little bit more lively because 😭😭😭

. Not hard but. Um. Luvli's arm is kinda weird here lol.

. At one point I painted behind Diavlo's tail, which was very dark black so I thought I was safe, and then when I painted that red it turned out it was kinda transparent and it looked so bad 😭 but I managed to make it look better I think.

Doesn't Luvli look a bit like a tomato here? Just... Just thought that while painting her but hoping no one thought that at the same time JRJER

Anyways!!!!um!!! Haply 2024!!!!

LAST 2023 DRAWING!!! LUVLI AND DIAVLO !

[tariah23]

I sketched up my very first Passionlip and I think I made her tiddies too small but UHH. I didn’t use a ref so I’m just going based off of memory but girl…

[venelona]

So, Franstober’s over

I did it aaaa I still can’t believe it XD Initial plan was to have most of it as sketches because I didn’t think I’d have enough drawing juices to draw complete pieces for a month... but then I just. Forgot that LOL

Again, huge thanks to @uhhbananafrappe for the prompts and so many new ideas 💗💕✨ if you can drop by her blog and her kofi page, so much amazing stuff that’s been inspiring me for more than 5 years

So yeah after month of non-stop drawing I’ll most probably take a break XD I put on hold every project I was in the middle of to do franstober and I’d like to get back to them, even tho all of them are sacred secrets I can’t post

But there’s a second reason for this post... my birthday is soon!

Yeah 4th of November is my Birthday and I have a tiny wish

Please give me feedback for my art

It comes and goes for a few months now, but sometimes I feel very discouraged/sad from lack of concrete feedback on my drawings. I do a picture that I think is the best picture I’ve ever done and get zero comments, or I try something new, something so different that if I incorporate it into my art it will change it fundamentally, and get nothin’. 

Don’t misunderstand me, getting general compliments is very flattering, and I appreciate each and every one, as well each and every one person who leaves them!! The thing is- I really want to improve my art, and without help of other’s I’ll just be moving in circles for a long time.

So, no need to write be happy birthday wishes on my big day. Here’s my wish -

please send me which of my drawing/doodles/comics/gifts is your favorite, and why

in the comments, in the inbox, just in dms - the ‘why’ part can be anything - the way i lined it, the coloring, the lighting, the way I drew a neck or colored an eye, or it was a fanart for something you love, or even for you- maybe its the feelings conveyed, or, if its a comic, maybe its the way frames are structured or just a story-

and don’t come saying ‘all of your art’. this will make me feel sadder for reasons i can’t quite express myself. please please please just pick one

Though I’d appreciate if you actually picked two! Bonus points if you pick from my overall art, and then from latest Franstober art! It contains more of the stand alone pieces, as well as a lot of experiments. I’d be very happy to hear which franstober piece people liked the best, and it would also help me a ton!

(I’ll link all my franstober drawings below the cut)

So yeah. My inbox is open, my dm’s are open, my little box is waiting and I’d really appreciate your comments, more than you know 💕 Lots of people will probably think less of me now, demanding attention, but... It’s for my birthday, let me be petty for my birthday!!! and i’ll take curing my sadness and improving my art over being looked down upon

Thank you for reading this monologue haha. Here’s All my franstober 2021:

i posted this before making list on accident bear with me

Day 1 - Nest - Songfell (by ikustioa / songfell-ut )

Day 2 - Bonds - Error Sans x Frisk

Day 3 - Secret - Taboo love (inspired by yoralim)

Day 4 - Tired - Horrortale (Horror and his dogs)

Day 5 - Private - Storyfell

Day 6 - Public - Reapertale

Day 7 - Ride - Underfell (Based on my Bad To The Bone comic)

Day 8 - Blind - Dancefell

Day 9 - Experiment - Underlab (by sharkowskii)

Day 10 - Chase - Outertale

Day 11 - Soft - Overtale (version by nuvex)

Day 12 - Seed - Parasitetale (by bloowe-blu)

Day 13 - Color - Fresh Sans x Fresh Frisk

Day 14 - Hate - Dusttale

Day 15 - Love - Flowerfell

Day 16 - Money - Mermaid (Aqua by uhhbananafrappe) Sans x Frisk

Day 17 - Hangover - Swapfell

Day 18 - Jealous - Kingdom of the Crystal Sky (by kodizzzle)

Day 19 - Video - Undergate (by saturnbela)

Day 20 - Warp - Nightmare Sans x Frisk

Day 21 - Riddle - Underswap

Day 22 - Punishment - Lockfell (by me/ lockfell)

Day 23 - Reward - Dancetale

Day 24 - Collar - Underfell

Day 25 - Quiet - Aftertale (by loverofpiggies)

Day 26 - Stay - Lamia (Cobalt by uhhbananafrappe) Sans x Frisk

Day 27 - Steel - Undertale

Day 28 - Regret - Mage Blue x Frisk (based on my Mage Blue comic)

Day 29 - Tease - Mafiatale

Day 30 - Broken - Check & Mate (by me/ undertale-check-and-mate)

Day 31 - Caged - Undertale

[tobesolonely]

it’s not christmas ‘til you come home

a/n: hello!! please enjoy this piece from my dad!harry universe! (u dont have to read any of them for it to make sense, but it would be cool if u did! loosely based on it’s not christmas ‘til you come home by norah jones <3 hope you enjoy! thank u to @harryysstyless​ for beta reading for me!! happy holidays everyone :)

warnings: SMUT, a bit of angst <3 word count: ~5.1k 

my ko-fi! thank you :)

December 23rd, 2:00 PM

For as long as you and Harry have been in a relationship, you’ve never not spent a Christmas together. 

Before expanding your family, you and he used to hop from party to party every Christmas Eve. Both of you would be absolutely trashed by the time Harry’s driver would drop you off at his house in the early hours of the morning. You’d sleep in until approximately noon, willing your hangovers to go away before finally making it down the stairs and into the kitchen to prepare two steaming cups of coffee. The two of you would then make your way into the living room and exchange gifts (where Harry always went way over the budget you’d set). 

Once you had your first child, Allison, your yearly tradition of party hopping and getting so drunk you could hardly put one foot in front of the other was no more. Instead, you and Harry opted for calm nights in, watching Christmas movies and drinking hot cocoa until she eventually grew tired and got carried up to bed. You would wait an hour or so before springing into action, playing Santa and setting out all of the gifts she asked for and then some. Harry never forgot to take a big bite out of the cookie and carrot left out for Santa and his reindeer.

This tradition stayed the same once your second baby, Oliver, was born. Even though he was too young to know what was going on, Harry was still excited to spoil him rotten this year as it was his first Christmas. However, given the current state of the world, you were afraid Harry would not be here for the first time ever.

“Mumma, when’s daddy coming home?” your six-year-old, Ally, asked for what had to be the seventh time that afternoon. “I made him a drawing for his gift ‘nd I can’t wait for him to see it!”

“Let me see what you drew for Daddy, love bug,” you say cheerily, purposefully glossing over her question. Ally proudly holds her drawing up next to her face. She looks up at you with wide eyes, awaiting a compliment from you. 

“That’s gorgeous, bug! Daddy’s gonna love it,” you inform her. “Maybe you can stick a lil’ bow on it and set it under the tree for him, hmm?” 

“Good idea, Mumma!” Ally runs to the box where you kept all the supplies for gift wrapping, digging around for a pink bow to stick on the corner of her drawing.

While she’s preoccupied with finding the perfect bow to place on her drawing for Harry, you take a quick glance at your phone. He still hadn’t gotten back to you since last night’s quick conversation when he very briefly mentioned he didn’t know if he’d be able to make it home.

He was filming in Los Angeles. You shared your uncertainties about him going before he departed but in the end, this was an opportunity you didn’t want him to miss out on. You read the Los Angeles Times free articles on your phone daily, keeping track of the state of the pandemic in Southern California. You knew it was much worse there than it was at home in London. You feared what you were afraid of was sadly bound to happen— Harry may get stuck in LA.

You didn’t want to say anything to your curious daughter because communication with him had been so sparse. You didn’t know anything for certain yet. But what were you supposed to think? You knew flying nationally wasn’t a good idea at the moment, never mind internationally.

“Hey bug, d’ya think you can watch your brother for a moment? Mumma’s gotta go make a phone call.” 

You hear your daughter let out a slightly irritated sigh. “I suppose I can, Mumma.” Ally responds with a voice laced with exasperation. You chuckle slightly under your breath at your overly dramatic (much like her dad) six-year-old and head into the kitchen, quickly dialing your husband’s familiar number.

“Hello?” 

You let out a sigh of relief upon hearing Harry’s low, hoarse voice. 

“Hi, honey. Just checkin’ in to see how things are going…” you hear shuffling on his end. “It’s December 23rd, you know.”

“I know, love.”

“Did I wake you?”

“Six in tha’ mornin’ here.”

“I’m sorry, H. S’just Allison keeps on askin’ when you’ll be home and ‘m just so worried you won’t make it home on time and you’ll miss Oliver’s first Christmas—“

“Darling,” Harry interrupts your anxiety-fueled ramble. “‘M gonna make it home. Have I ever not been there when I said I would?” 

“No,” you say quietly. “I’m just worried, Harry. I hear traveling is going to get very strict because they’re trying to prevent people from going anywhere for Christmas…”

“Fine, then I’ll get my own plane with jus’ me and a pilot. Wear a mask the entire time and whatnot. Yanno I can make that happen if it’s necessary, pet.” 

Harry’s calm demeanor about the whole situation brings you a bit of peace. Perhaps you were catastrophizing something that wasn’t as big of a deal as you thought it was a mere two minutes ago. If he wasn’t worried about not making it home, you didn’t see any reason to stress about it— not for one second longer.

“Okay then,” you reply, still a bit wary of his travel plans. “What shall I tell your daughter? She’s drivin’ me up the walls asking where you are every twenty minutes.”

Your husband lets out a breathy laugh, causing you to giggle along with him. “Tell her not to eat up all the Christmas cookies before I get a taste of one.”

December 24th, 8:45 AM

Part of you was hoping you’d wake up on Christmas Eve and Harry would be tucked into bed next to you, plump lips parted, the sound of his snores the only noise in the room. However, you were a rational woman, if nothing else. You knew he wouldn’t be by your side when you woke up. 

You make your way down the hall and peek inside your son’s room. He was fast asleep, plump thumb in his mouth. You smile at your sleeping baby and gently close the door behind you, deciding to let him sleep in a bit longer before waking him up to feed him. 

Next, you walk to your daughter's room, gently pushing open the door in case she was still sleeping. Instead, you find her sat at her desk, deeply focused on what appeared to be another drawing. 

“Good morning, lovebug,” you greet your daughter in a sing-songy voice. “You’re up early. What are you working on?”

“Makin’ a letter for Santa,” she replies, not bothering to look up from what she was doing. 

“A letter for Santa?” You start racking your brain for anything you and Harry could’ve possibly forgotten to get for Ally, but you finished your Christmas shopping for your children way back in November.

“Yes,” she answers matter-of-factly. “‘M askin’ him to make sure my Daddy is home by tonight so we can eat cookies together and watch Toy Story, Mumma.” 

“I’m sure Santa will make that happen for you,” you reassure her. “You’ve been a very good girl this year, been so helpful with Olly and doin’ so well in school. The least Santa can do is get you whatever you want.” You see her smile as she digs around in her crayon box.

“Can we wait ‘til Daddy gets home to make Santa’s cookies, Mumma?”

“Sure we can, bug,” Ally claps her hands together excitedly, bouncing around in her tiny chair. “Gonna go make some pancakes, does that sound yummy?”

“Can we have chocolate chip pancakes please?”

“Are you askin’ me that because your dad isn’t here to throw a fit about it?” You give her a knowing smile, causing her to giggle.

“Maaaaybe…” Your daughter turns to face you, swinging her legs back and forth.

“If I make your chocolate chip pancakes, you can’t tell your dad. Deal?” You hold up your pinky. Ally gets up and runs to you and you bend down slightly so she can link her finger with yours.

“I pinky promise, Mumma!”

“Our little secret, yeah?” she nods. “Keep an ear out for your brother for me, bug. I’ll be downstairs.”

December 24th, 3:00 PM

“Love? ‘M afraid I got some bad news...”

As soon as Harry’s voice comes through on the other line, you can tell whatever news he’s about to share with you won’t be what you’re wanting to hear.

“What is it?”

It’s silent for what feels like entirely too long. You get up from your position on the couch next to Ally, telling her you’ll be right back. After breakfast, she convinced you to watch Toy Story with her, which quickly turned into a whole Disney movie marathon.

“Not so sure I’ll be able to make it home.”

You’re not sure if it’s his calm tone that bothers you, the fact that you didn’t want him to go to Los Angeles in the first place, or simply the fact that you and your children missed him terribly and haven’t seen him in nearly a month–– but your mood changes from relaxed to undeniably outraged in three seconds flat.

“You’re kidding.” Your tone is sharp, venomous. Harry once again takes a moment before responding, knowing that the current tone of your voice means he’d best proceed with caution.

“‘M not, love. I woke up early and everything to try and get this sorted out, it’s 7 AM so I was gonna try and catch an early flight––”

“I told you I didn’t want you going to LA,” you cut him off, voice rising slightly. “You knew how bad the pandemic was getting there. I told you this would happen.”

“What do you suppose I do then, Y/N?” His tone is becoming equally as sharp. “Y’want me to tell ‘em, “Sorry, I don’t give a fuck about the travel restrictions. My wife wants me home so let's make it happen!” ‘S that what you want me to do?”

“Don’t be a smartass, Harry,” you spit. “I’ll give the phone to your daughter and you can tell her you won’t be home in time for Christmas, then.”

“Y/N…” his tone is calm again. Fearful. “Don’t make me do that.”

“She woke up early to write a letter to Santa to tell him she wants you home by tonight, Harry,” your tone softens as well. “Even Olly has been asking for you. Swear his new favorite word is ‘dada’.” He laughs at this as do you, and the shared tension that was present just minutes ago dissipates. 

“Just… lemme try a few more things before I tell her, yeah?”

“Harry, it’s already three here,” you gently remind him. “Even if you do make it home today, she’ll be asleep by the time you’re home. I think you just need to tell her.”

Your husband sighs, knowing you were undeniably correct. “Alright. Give Allison the phone, please.”

December 24th, 8 PM

“Almost time for you to head to bed soon, yeah Allybug?” Your daughter lets out a loud sigh in response, not shifting her gaze from the television to you. Ever since Harry told her he wouldn’t be home in time to eat cookies with her, she’s hardly said a word. She’s never experienced a Christmas Eve without her father so understandably, she was missing him tonight.

You shift Olly, who was falling asleep nursing on your lap, into a different position so you could face your daughter directly. From your new position, you can see just how tired she looks. 

“‘M not sleepy, Mumma. Gonna stay up and wait for Daddy,” she informs you of her new plans. “When Daddy is home that’s when it’s time for bed.”

“Ally, remember what Daddy told you on the phone earlier? Santa won’t come unless you go to sleep.”

“I don’t wanna sleep,” she’s quickly starting to grow upset. “Not until Daddy tucks me in!”

You purse your lips, not wanting to argue with your headstrong daughter when your son was so close to drifting off into his nightly milk coma. Turning your attention back to the movie that was quietly playing on the television, you decide to drop it for now and try again later.

December 24th, 9:05 PM

Not more than an hour later, Olly is upstairs in his crib fast asleep whilst Ally is still laying on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, fighting sleep. She was determined to stay up until her father walked through the front door, and you knew getting her to agree to go to bed was going to be a battle and a half.

“You’re not ready to go to bed yet, Ally?” Her eyes fly open once she hears you addressing her.

“Not yet, Mumma. ‘M not sleepy yet.” Her words are a little slurred due to the exhausted state she was in. You hum in response.

“Could’ve sworn your eyes just shut for a minute there,” you pause for a second to see if she’ll look your way. “Must’ve just been my old lady eyes playin’ tricks on me, y’think?”

“I wasn’t sleeping!” She immediately defends herself, frown lines indenting her forehead. “Can we drink more hot chocolate?”

You knew if you wanted your daughter to fall asleep within the hour, another sugar rush wasn’t the best idea. You instead offer her a hot cup of sleepytime tea and she excitedly agrees once you tell her it’s her father’s favorite type of tea to drink at bedtime. You place her down on the kitchen counter while you fill the kettle and wait for it to whistle.

“What are you looking forward to the most from Santa, bug?” 

Her eyes light up at your question. “Well, I really want a new bike! ‘Member Mumma? How I asked him for a pink bike? And I also want a cool swing set! Since we haven’t been able to go to the park in so long,” her smile falters and she looks down at her dangling feet. “I want Daddy to come home the mostest, though.”

Your heart feels like it’s going to break in two upon hearing your daughter admit that Harry being home would be the greatest gift of all. “So do I, lovebug. He’ll be here in the mornin’ to watch you and your brother open all the gifts Santa got you though, don’t you worry.”

For everyone’s sake, you hoped that was true.

December 24th, 11:50 PM

Sleep wasn’t coming easy. 

You finally got your daughter to bed at around ten o’clock and waited thirty minutes before laying out your children’s gifts. It took much longer than it usually did considering you had to do it all on your own. Harry was usually the one to quickly assemble the larger toys while you laid everything out around the living room. 

Despite it taking longer than desired, you were proud that you got it all done without waking your children up. Consequently, that meant you were now left all alone with your thoughts considering you had no more tasks to occupy yourself with. 

You kept contemplating calling Harry, but you weren’t sure if he was busy on set or not. Surely he was immersing himself in work to distract himself from the fact he would not be spending Christmas with his family. 

Deciding you may need a cup of the sleepytime tea you offered Allison earlier, you quietly get out of bed and open your door, sock-clad feet padding softly against the wooden floors. It’s unnervingly silent in your home–– the tea kettle coming to a boil being the only source of noise. You keep unlocking and re-locking your phone, finally deciding to call your husband to see how he’s spending his day. It goes to automatic voicemail.

You assume the reason for this must be that he’s busy filming on set and set your phone down with a sigh, standing on your tiptoes to retrieve a mug from the cabinet. You mutter a slew of curse words under your breath intended for Harry who always puts the mugs up far too high even though you tell him not to.

Right as you begin pouring the now boiling water into your teacup, the faint jingling of your front door causes you to startle so badly that you nearly drop the kettle on the ground. You try to think back to everything Harry ever told you to do in the event of an intruder but your mind goes blank from fright. Deciding to use the scalding water as your weapon, you slowly creep towards the door, your only plan being to fling the water on whoever it was as soon as they got the door open. As soon as you hear the lock click, you flick the lid open that covers the spout and draw your arm back.

“Shit––”

“Harry?”

Your husband jumps slightly, his eyes blinking rapidly in an effort to adjust to the dark living room. You reach beside him and quickly turn on the light, shakily letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. He looks exhausted, his hair is an absolute mess, and his eyes are red from sleep deprivation–– but he’s home. You set the tea kettle down on the coffee table and fling yourself into his arms, breathing in the scent of the man you haven’t seen in a month. He drops his bags at his feet so he can properly embrace you, pulling you into him.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head and stays like that for a moment saying nothing, just breathing you in. “Missed ya so fuckin’ much.

“How? I thought…” you trail off. “You said that they said…”

Harry laughs quietly. “Remember what I told ya? I said to ‘em, ‘Don’t give a fuck about your travel restrictions! M’wife wants me home.’” You laugh at him, knowing he was far too kind to talk to anyone that way. 

“Yeah, okay,” you reply sarcastically. You pull him in for another hug, placing wet kisses along his jawline. “I’m so happy you’re home. The kids are gonna be over the moon, especially Allison.” Harry hums, surveying the room.

“Looks like you did a good job in here, Mrs. Claus. See ya even assembled some toys all by yourself,” he quirks an eyebrow. “Were you jus’ pretendin’ not to know how to do it all these years so I’d be stuck with all the hard labor?”

“Maybe.”

He pulls you back into him, tickling your sides. “My sneaky girl,” he bends down so his lips are level with your neck and sucks gently, causing you to let out a quiet moan. You see his eyes land on the tea kettle that was sitting forgotten on the coffee table. “Making a cuppa? Can I have one? ‘M freezin’.”

“I can think of something else we can do to get you warmed up,” you reach for his hands, interlocking his fingers with yours. “If you know what I’m gettin’ at.”

“Hmm…” Harry releases one of his hands from your grip and taps at his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “Not too sure I can say I know what you’re sayin’. Maybe you should just tell me?”

You frown. “You’re really gonna make me say it, huh?”

“Y’know I’d give you the entire world if you asked me for it. All you gotta do is tell me what you want from me and it’s yours–– ‘m sure you’ve known that since the first day we met, though.” Harry takes a step back, crossing his arms across his chest. Even in his thick winter coat, you can see the way his biceps flex, and it makes you even more feral for him.

“Fine,” you say quietly, feeling yourself start to grow shy under his intense gaze. “I’m kinda... in the mood.” You say it so softly that it would most likely be inaudible to Harry if he wasn’t standing mere inches away from you. Harry throws his head back in laughter and you quickly shush him, not wanting any of your children to wake up.

“In the mood? C’mon, pet,” he uncrosses his arms and reaches for one of your hands. “Tha’s not tellin’ me what you want from me. Tell me exactly what you want, lovie.”

“You know what I want, H,” you tell him with a hint of annoyance in your voice. “It’s been a month. Yanno I want you to fuck me, why are you makin’ me say it?”

Harry gives you a shit-eating grin. “You jus’ said it. I didn’t make you say anything.”

You roll your eyes at his immaturity, already in the process of lifting your nightshirt (one of his old t-shirts that’s become just a little too tight on him) over your head. “Are we gonna get to it or not? Because if not, I’ll just go back to makin’ myself some tea and call it a night––”

Harry takes half a step towards you and reaches up to cup your face, colliding his lips with yours. His lips are a little chapped and taste of his favorite rose lip balm. You feel your body relaxing into the kiss, knees going weak as he walks you back onto the couch.

“You’ve been eatin’ up all the sugar cookies, haven’t you? Can taste it on ya. Thought those were for Santa,” he’s pulled away from you to examine your face. “A bit naughty of you, wouldn’t ya say?”

“Please stop referring to yourself as Santa when we’re about to have sex, Harry.”

“You’re not bein’ very kind to the person that’s about to go down on you, are you?” He sucks harshly on the valley between your breasts, wanting to be sure a deep-colored bruise will appear on your skin later. “That’s okay. It is Christmas, after all. ‘M in a giving mood.”

“Stop talking and get to it then.”

Harry slides off the couch and onto his knees in between your legs, gently kissing your thighs. “Cute pair of undies–– s’like you knew I was comin’ home tonight.” Before you can respond Harry’s fingers are tugging at the waistband of your underwear, eager to get them off of you. He presses light kisses to your core, mumbling about how much he missed the smell of you and how sweet you tasted. 

One hand is resting across your stomach while the other one is in between your folds, spreading you open. You try squeezing your thighs around his head, overwhelmed by the feeling of your husband’s lips around your clit after being away from him for so long, but he removes his hand from your stomach and pushes your thighs back apart.

“Feels so good,” you’re breathless, tangling your fingers in Harry’s hair as his hollowed cheeks begin to suck more roughly on your clit. “Missed you so much. Missed this–– us.” 

Harry pauses momentarily to look up at you. “I know, angel. God, do I know.” He attaches his lips back on you, swirling his tongue around your clit as you  choke back your moans. The hand that is holding you open moves down to toy at your slit as he wordlessly checks to see if you’re okay with his fingers being in you. 

“Please,” you say softly, encouraging his next move. He spits on his index and pointer finger before slowly sliding both of them in you, immediately curling them up. “Oh, Harry. Fuckin’ love when you do tha’...”

“Know you do,” His response is curt, simple. He’s focused on the task at hand–– getting you off. He uses the hand that’s lying across your stomach to rub tight circles on your clit, sensing you’re nearing your orgasm from the way you’re starting to clench around him. “Such a good girl fo’ me, darlin’. Gonna make a mess on my fingers in a second, aren’t you?”

You nod as you try to control your breathing and the loudness of your moans. The last thing you wanted was for your daughter to come down to inspect the source of the noise. “Fuck, Harry.” 

“Come on, darlin’,” he gently pinches your clit, causing your body to jolt at the sensation. “Gimme a good one. A lil’ welcome back gift for me, hmm?” 

Your hips are bucking up to the rhythm of his fingers slipping in and out of you as your orgasm quickly approaches. “Har, I’m close…” it comes out sounding more like a warning than a statement. He moves the two fingers he has inside of you in a back and forth motion, coaxing your first orgasm out of you.

“Tha’s my girl,” he whispers, not stopping his movements even as your back arches as your first orgasm rolls over you like a giant wave. “Givin’ me a good one jus’ like I knew you would. Jus’ like you always do. M’ sweet girl.” As you’re starting to still, Harry pulls his fingers out of you and holds them up to your mouth, instructing you to suck them clean. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows so you can properly lean in to steal a kiss from him and notice a rather sizable tent has formed in his pants. Harry gives you a sheepish grin as he palms himself, hissing from the feel of his palm against his cock.

“Want me to do somethin’ about that?” You scoot over on the couch and pat the spot next to you, signaling for your husband to sit beside you. He lifts himself from his seated position, stretching his legs out a bit before plopping down beside you.

“Are you offerin’ me a blowie?”

“I mean, yeah?”

“Can we skip that an’ you can jus’ ride me instead? Think I’d quite like that.”

“Oh you would, would ya?”

Harry nods and unzips his pants, taking himself out. He licks his hand and gives himself a few pumps. “Still on birth control, I’m assuming?”

You roll your eyes as you move to straddle him. “Only been gone for a month, Harry. Of course ‘m still on it, you goof.”

“Can never be too careful. I don’t think now’s a good time for another lil’ one, do you? Think we should at least celebrate Oliver’s first birthday before we try for another one.” His hands are on his hips as he lines you up over his cock, helping you slowly sink down. You missed the burn of him which was even more intense than it usually was considering it’s been a while since he’s taken you.

“I think you’re right,” you reply. You rest your head on his shoulder while you adjust to the size of him, needing to take a moment to yourself before attempting to move. After a short adjustment period you begin rolling your hips, grinding against him in a way that was also bringing pleasure to your clit, still swollen and sensitive from your last orgasm.

Harry’s eyes are fixated on the way your breasts bounce in front of him, the way your stomach slightly jiggles each time you crash back down onto him. His lips are caught in between his teeth; you’re hoping he doesn’t break any skin so you don’t have to hear him whine about how badly the bruise hurts him later.

“Ridin’ me like your life depends on it,” Harry mutters. “Fuckin’ love takin’ you like this, angel. So fuckin’ deep.”

You simply hum in agreement, brain far too foggy to form a coherent sentence. Harry notices your movements starting to become smaller, lazier, so he puts his hands on your hips and decides to take over. He’s thrusting up into you like you’ll up and run away from him if he doesn’t give it his all. He cups your face with one hand and gently guides you towards him, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your lips.

“Fuck, H,” your eyes are squeezed shut and your wrap your arms around his neck, feeling your second orgasm quickly approaching. “Rub my clit please, almost there.”

Harry’s fingers immediately come down to rub at your slick nub, not faltering his relentless pace in the slightest. “Clench around me again, lovie,” his voice is higher than usual, whiny, and you know your husband is just as close as you are. “Love when you do tha’, jus’ need you to do it one more time.”

You do as he wishes once more, knowing once he cums you’ll be directly behind him. Harry lets out a string of expletives as he releases inside of you, pulling you tightly against his chest as he rides out his orgasm. You continue riding him, not slowly down as you chase your own release next.

“Harry,” you’re in a trance-like state, chanting his name over and over as you bring yourself over the edge. “Harry, fuck!”

“That’s my good girl,” he says quietly, rubbing your back as you rest your head on his shoulder while you catch your breath. You feel him beginning to soften inside of you so you lift yourself off and lay back on the couch, legs still shaking. It’s quiet for a couple of minutes as the two of you reveal in the afterglow of your orgasms, Harry gently running his fingers along your leg.

“Round two in the shower?”

December 25th, 6:42 AM

“Mumma! Santa came and he left lots of toys–– Daddy?”

Harry lets out a dramatic “oof!” as Ally jumps onto him, pulling the covers back. Her eyes are wide and she giggles are Harry pulls her into one of his infamous bear hugs, placing kisses all over his face.

“Mornin’, love bug! What’re you doin’ up so early?”

“It’s Christmas, Daddy! Santa came!” she sits back on her feet, a confused look on her face. “Did Santa bring you on his sleigh last night after me ‘n Olly went to bed?”

“Y’know what? He told me to keep it a secret, but he did,” Allison gasps in response to his news as she processes it, placing a little hand over her mouth. Harry sits up and gets out of bed, scooping her up in the process. “How ‘bout we go make Mum a cuppa before we see what Santa got for you and Olly? Tha’ sound good? Let’s let them sleep for a while longer, hmm?”

As you hear them exit the room you take a second to reflect on how lucky you are to spend another Christmas with you beautiful family before drifting back off into a deep, albeit short, sleep.

[maybege]

Safe And Warm - Part 1

Summary: Din convinces Paz to find the long lost Princess and bring her to her family in Coruscant. What Paz did not expect was her very beautiful companion and the feelings she would wake in him. (Anastasia AU)

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 6.1k | Rating: T

Warnings: one (1) tense moment of threatened violence, otherwise Disney-level fluff, also Mandalorians do not wear helmets in this AU

FINALLY! When I start writing this in November of last year I certainly did not expect it to take this long until I would publish it but the writing gods had other things in mind. This is a loose Anastasia AU with a bit of a mixture of like 1920’s fashion/aesthetics set in the Star Wars Universe. It was a lot of fun to write and – in my mind – is like a 90-minute fun Disney movie with romance sprinkled in.

Because there will be two parts of The One posted next week, the second (and final) part of this story will be posted on July 23. Always, feedback is greatly appreciated and I hope you enjoy it!

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

Paz was sure that Din had lost his mind.

To be fair, he had thought that more than once but this time he was convinced that it had finally happened. Din Djarin had lost his stars forsaken mind.

But, as always, Din did not seem to be deteriorated by his friend’s disapproval.

“Valoria has been destroyed a long time ago now,” Paz said, “And everyone on it has been destroyed with it.”

“Yes, except maybe what if it hasn’t?”

Paz scoffed, “I very much doubt that.”

His eyes wandered around the cantina they were sitting in. The bar was packed by what seemed to be the crews of the trade ships, gambling and laughing at their tables, and over on the other side of the glittering gown of the singer caught his eye. Stars, he just wanted one calm evening …

“Paz,” Din grabbed him by the upper arm, “We all know the remaining Valars are Coruscant royalty so to speak and them setting out a price for the lost princess? That must mean she is out there somewhere. And wewill be the ones to bring her home.”

Paz did not say anything. He wanted nothing more than another drink and maybe watch a good fighting match. Stars, maybe even participatein a good fighting match.

But Din did not give up. He never did.

“Think of the money, Paz,” he implored, “That would be more than enough to build a new classroom in the covert and get you one of those fancy new blasters the Armourer has been eyeing – and that would only be with half your share.”

Paz hesitated.

They did need a new classroom. Or at least some improvements on the current one. Last week, some bricks had tumbled down and it had been pure luck that none of the foundlings had been there.

He would have never been able to forgive himself if something had happened to one of his students.

He sighed in defeat, his shoulders dropping and he leant back in his chair. “How do you plan on finding – what’s her name again Thama-something?”

“Thalassa,” Din corrected him with a smug grin on his face. He had probably realized by now that he had captured Paz’s interest. Smug bastard.

“And you’ll be glad to know that I have found her already.”

“Found her?” Paz was stunned, “I am impressed, vod. You never seemed like the planning type.”

Din ignored his jab and set out the map, the galaxy lighting up between them. “A reliable source told me we can find her here,” he pointed to the very end of the map, symbolizing the edge of the Outer Rim, “All we need to do is get her from here to here,” he drew an imaginary line all the way to Coruscant, “Without having anything happen to her.”

“Seems easy enough,” Paz commented, brows furrowing, “So why do you need me for it?”

“There might or might not be a price on her head … from the Imps,” Din admitted.

He knew there had to be a problem somewhere.

“Do you have any idea how many things can go wrong? This is asking for trouble Din,” Paz cursed, clearly unhappy with that tidbit of information, “No credits in the whole wide galaxy would make this worth it. I have no desire to have a run-in with the Imps any time soon.”

“Vod, please,” Din said, “I – kriff, I need the money to get stuff for the kid,” Paz's eyes fell to the little pod in which the green child – his honorary nephew – was sleeping, “I need him safe, alright? And I need your help, brother, please.”

“Alright,” Paz murmured, nodding, “But I already know this will go wrong.”

*

Din’s ‘hot tip’ led them to a planet on the Outer Rim. The very edge of it, to be exact.

They had gotten a ride on a friend’s ship much to Paz’s amusement. Din begrudgingly calling Boba Fett of all people for help all the way from Tatooine was the highlight of his week – month, even.

The Razor Crest was hopelessly broken down and Paz was sure that Din would use significant amounts of his share to get the ship and his home back on track.

They had left Grogu with the covert under the watchful eye of the Armourer, knowing that the mission would be too dangerous and too risky to take him along. That was the moment Paz knew that Din was serious about all of this. For his vod to leave his kid somewhere that was not with him – that was a big step.

A step which both of them seemed to regret as they landed on the planet in question. It was muddy and green and brownish, a wholly unappealing colour palette. The sky was dark or … well, not dark. But it seemed to be a permanent twilight no matter what time it was and with the small drizzle, the rain seemed to paint the whole world a constant grey.

The only homes that littered the streets – or rather trampled paths – were small homes, only distinguishable from the grey horizon by the small fires that lit up their windows.

Paz had never been so sure that there would never be a princess here. But maybe that was exactly what made this the perfect hiding spot.

And so, he hoisted his bag higher on his bag as they trudged through village after village in search for whatever sign Din deemed to be worthy to stop for. As the rain lessened, the sky lightened up a little but they were still wet to the bones and Paz hated it.

After hours of walking, Din finally stopped in front of a small hut.

Children were playing in the space between the houses and the few adults that seemed to be working outside eyed the newcomers suspiciously. Paz’s hand felt the blaster on his hip, a strange feeling overcoming him at being watched.

“I don’t like this, vod,” he murmured, “I really don’t.”

Din hummed in agreement before knocking on the door.

A few moments passed and then an elderly man opened. Both his eyes and his hair were grey, he seemed … worn. Tired and worn. But when he spotted them, and his eyes flew immediately to the weapons on their hips, he tensed. And so did Paz.

Surely this was not the best first impression they could make.

Then again, he was impatient to get away from here.

“I know why you are here,” the man said, his eyes lighting up in excitement as he motioned for them to come inside.

Paz was confused by this but he did not complain. The man did not seem to have any weapons on him and, as surprising as it was, he seemed genuine.

The house they were led into was simple. The downstairs consisted of a single room, serving as both the kitchen and the living room, and a set of stairs led to what Paz assumed to be the bedrooms.

A hearty smell wafted through the air and he spotted a pot hanging over the fire. His stomach growled.

“You are here to bring her home, aren’t you?” the man asked excitedly and both he and Din tilted their heads questioningly, making no secret of the fact that they were surprised by his warm welcome.

“We have been waiting for years but you see,” the man explained, gesturing to the outside, “there is no way to send reliable messages out there without them being able to be transferred.”

A woman came through a backdoor, clearly his spouse. She wore an apron and a suspicious look on her face as she spotted the two intruders. But even then, she did not acknowledge them. Instead, she walked over to the steaming pot of soup and set it on the table in the middle of the room.

Paz heard Din’s stomach grumbling and grinned.

“They are here to bring Thalassa home, darling,” the man explained, looking almost relieved and Paz furrowed his brows. He did not put it past the stranger to genuinely be happy for the girl to get back to her family but somehow, he had the feeling that the man’s happiness had a different reason.

“Where can we find her?” Din asked gruffly, shifting his weight on the other foot, “We want to get going as soon as possible.”

“Why should I tell you where she is?” the woman spat, “I cared for her like she was my own, what makes you think I would so easily give her away?”

“Because she deserves to be reunited with her family,” Din stated drily, “And her family wants to see her. They have waited a long time for this to happen.”

Paz held onto himself to not roll his eyes. Din could always be so dramatic if he wanted to and he hoped that it would work. He just wanted to get on with it.

The spouses looked at each other for a long moment and Paz could tell that they were having a conversation without words.

“Alright,” the woman finally relented, before adding, “But I do have one condition.”

“What is it?”

“I want you to take my niece with you. She – she has been stuck on this planet for far longer than she needed to. She is a good girl, she deserves a chance in the big worlds.”

Paz could feel how tense Din was. His first instinct was to disagree. They would have trouble smuggling one princess across the galaxy but a princess and another random stranger? Besides, who knew how this niece would hinder them on their quest to keep the princess safe?

No, that really was a ridiculous idea.

But Din was better at lying than he was and so he agreed with a reluctant nod. Nothing would speak against just taking the princess with them once they found her, right?

“Where is she then?”

“Oh, they’re just outside, working in the gardens,” the older woman says, wiping her hands on her apron, “You can tell them dinner is ready. You’re invited to stay as well, you won’t be able to walk back to your ship in that darkness.”

Both of them nodded and Paz was happy to set down his bag at the door that led outside. He kept his blaster on his hip though and he knew that Din had done the same. His thoughts were rushing with how quickly they could get Thalassa out of here and how long they would have before any of the Imps had an inkling of where she was.

But as he stepped down the stairs all thoughts left his head because … because …

There you were.

Like the lady had said, you were working in the gardens. You were kneeling on the muddy ground, your hands full of wet earth as you cleaned the plants of any weeds. Your companion was next to you, sitting on a small chair and talking to you. She must have said something funny because you threw your head back and laughed.

You – stars, you were beautiful.

How could people not see a princess when they saw you?

Noticing the newcomers, you raised your head and your eyes grew wide as you saw the two big men walk determinedly towards you. You hurried to stand up, wiping your hands clean on an apron. “How can we help you?” you asked carefully.

Paz did not slow his steps. He felt how flushed he was, even the tips of his ears felt hot as he walked towards you. His chest was oddly warm and tight as he looked at you, your eyes big and your mouth opening with another question.

“Your Majesty,” he murmured, lifting your hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it. You had wiped them clean on the fabric of your skirt and he felt how soft it was and he heard you gasp and oh stars how would he ever be able to forget this very moment.

The other woman seemed to be more excited rather than surprised and he heard her talking to Din in a high-pitched voice. But what did he care about that woman’s niece when you were there right in front of him?

“Oh I – I’m not,” you said, clearly embarrassed. You held your hand to your chest, the one he had kissed and Paz frowned. Shame filled him when he realised that he had made you feel uncomfortable but then he was also confused by your words. What did you mean?

“If anyone’s a Majesty, that would be me,”the woman behind him said, “It’s been time I would think.”

“We’re here to get you back to your family, Your Majesty,” Din said, throwing an amused look to Paz who was still standing in front of you. He looked from the other woman to you and back again. She – she was the princess? And you were the niece?

“We will start our journey to Coruscant tomorrow,” Din announced, “We got a ticket on a freighter ship booked. It will be a long and dangerous journey, princess, but you will see your family again soon.”

“Well, I should hope so,” Thalassa replied, wholly unimpressed, “It’s been years, I almost thought I’d never leave this forsaken place. Oh, is that dinner I smell?”

The princess walked off without another word, leaving the basket and little chair behind as well as Din and Paz looking at each other and realizing that keeping her safe might not be the issue – enduring her might cost them their last nerves.

Paz watched as you kneeled down again quickly putting some of the vegetables in the basket.

With the basket in your hands, you stood up again, looking at Paz for a long while. He felt how this warm feeling came back and nervously shifted on his feet. He could not figure out what it was about you but he – he wanted more. Wanted you more.

You took a deep breath, seemingly gathering your courage for something, and he resisted the urge to take your hand.

“When, uh, when you said you would go to Coruscant did you mean … me too?” you asked quietly and the small hope in your eyes made his heart clench.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Din opening his mouth. He knew that look on his face, knew that Din would reject your request just like they had planned when your aunt had first voiced that condition. Din would tell you that they would leave only with the princess in tow. And he was right, probably. Fewer people meant less danger.

But you did not look at Din.

You looked at him with a small smile on your lips as if you did not allow yourself to be hopeful yet but as if you wanted to be. Wanted to be hopeful. Wanted to be excited. Wanted to be on this journey.

He wanted to change that.

“Yes,” he said, already feeling Din’s eyes on him. But when you looked at him like that there was no way he could say no, “Yes, you will come with us too, if you’d like, of course.”

*

To no one’s surprise (and Paz’s excitement), you wanted to come along.

Already the preparations for the trip were eating at their nerves. Thalassa was more than annoyed that she was only allowed to take one bag with her. But Din was adamant and surprisingly patient with the demanding princess and soon she had reduced her luggage to only the essential items. It was not like she would need her muddy dresses in the high society of Coruscant.

Paz felt like he could not wait until the trip was over.

The next morning, they were able to borrow speeders from the family which would take them to the capital of the mud planet. From there, they would take one of the big cruiser ships to Naboo.

It was the easiest method to fall under the radar – by blending in with the large crowds that flocked to the core worlds. Paz had worn his best suit for that exact purpose.

The only downside was that the Imps were slowly becoming aware of that loophole and more and more of them infiltrated the standard ways of travelling.

Already in the terminal did Paz spot a few suspicious-looking people. They were most likely bounty hunters but he was not too worried. The ship they were boarding was enormous and so was the number of passengers. The odds of them crossing paths were very slim and so he and Din decided to not change their plans at the last minute.

You, on the other hand, seemed to be intimidated if not scared. Din has assigned you the space on Paz’s speeder and with your arms wrapped around his middle, you had driven hours on end until you had reached the spaceport. He had liked the proximity, the way you had pressed your cheek against his back and how your arms had sometimes tightened around him.

He could very well get used to it.

Now, even as you were in the terminal, ready to board, you stuck to his side. It flustered and pleased him to have you so close that your arm was brushing against his constantly. But he was also relieved to have you this close because everywhere he looked, strangers were walking towards the gates and he did not want to lose you in this chaos.

And so, he made it a point to make himself seem bigger, pushing out his chest and straightening his posture to make sure that none of the other passengers would stray too close.

You sent him a grateful smile.

A few rows before you, he could hear Thalassa’s high-pitched voice complaining about one thing or another and soon he recognized Din’s dark hair in the masses. He wondered if his brother in arms was even listing to her. Her voice was shrill and she had not stopped talking for one moment since leaving the house this morning so Paz found it hard to imagine that Din could just tune it out but he hoped for his sake that he could.

He did not want to imagine the next few days on the ship.

“Do you have the tickets?” you asked quietly beside him, pulling him out of his thoughts. Paz nodded and rummaged in the inside pocket of his jacket. He brought out two data chips, handing you one.

“Stick close,” he advised you, “It can get a little chaotic, getting through the gates.”

With big eyes, you nodded. He watched how you took a deep breath and then you were separated from him, being pushed towards another gate. There was a sea of people trying to get through the electronic controls and Paz did not like this suffocating feeling that came over him

He pushed the chip in and the gate opened with a beep before he was swept up again by the masses making their way into the hull of the ship. But there was something – or rather someone – missing.

Paz turned around, trying to spot you. When he did not see you, he grew panicked. He could care less what happened to Thalassa but you– he wanted to make sure you were safe.

Hoping that it would help, he shouted your name over the chatter of the other passengers. He turned around, fighting his way back to the gates, pushing against people and getting insulted in more languages than he understood.

A soft hand grabbed his and he froze. He whipped his head around and there you were, looking clearly a bit overwhelmed but smiling at him. He breathed a sigh of relief, his shoulders dropping. Out of instinct, he grasped your hand tighter, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

“Ready?” he asked and you nodded with a smile.

Neither of you let go of each other’s hand.

*

Hours later, when the ship finally started taking off, you were settled in the cantina.

The ship had dorms and suites and common rooms, more than anyone could ever count, but Din and Paz had decided that it would be safer for the time being to be in the cantina before figuring out any sleeping arrangements.

“I don’t understand why we couldn’t have gotten a suite,” Thalassa hissed, looking around her with disdain. It was clear that she did not appreciate being around ‘commoners’ as she had called them before and Paz wondered how she had lived her life in poverty and still ended up like this.

Fittingly enough, he could see how Din’s jaw clenched, how his eyes flashed with annoyance, and grinned. When he had thought of credits he certainly hadn’t thought of how annoying royalty could be to deal with.

“It would be too obvious, Thalassa,” you explained gently, sitting next to Paz and a datapad in your lap, “They already explained before. It will only be for a few days. Isn’t that right, Paz?”

His heart skipped a beat at you saying his name. You were already looking to him for backup, as if you trusted him with it, and the way his name rolled off your tongue … stars, he would dream of that tonight.

“Very right,” he replied, “Three days at the most, all of this will take less than a week if we’re lucky.”

“And if we’re not?” Thalassa challenged.

“Then it will take longer,” Din hissed.

Paz grinned. This would be a long journey.

*

When dinner had been served, the group had barely moved from their spot in the cantina.

Thalassa had been busy watching some holovid or another on a datapad and the best part about it was that she was silent. Under different circumstances, Paz might have been annoyed by how loud she was playing the holovid, the actor’s shrill voice sounding all the way through the cantina but he could not be bothered to care when the alternative was to explain to her for the hundredth time why she needed to be happy with the lower standard of accommodation.

Din was sitting next to the princess, thoroughly entranced by studying maps or researching new parts for the Crest or something.

But whom Paz was most focused on was you.

You had started to doze off in your seat next to him for a while now and your head kept leaning dangerously to the side, threatening to fall on his shoulder. Paz was tense. Slowly, he shifted closer to you until your cheek rested fully on his shoulder and he heard you sigh in your sleep and then … you shuffled closer to him.

Paz tensed even more, pretending to read the ship’s safety manual in his hands.

He still felt Din’s amused gaze on him though and he furiously tried to ignore the heat that rose in his cheeks. But you were soft and warm against him, completely relaxed now that your head was supported by something.

He wondered if you were cold. It was drafty in the cantina, maybe he should put his jacket over you? He would be fine with just wearing his shirt and the vest but he would have to move and what if that would wake you?

And how would he get you to your sleeping quarters without waking you? Would you be angry at him? He knew some people had trouble falling asleep on spacecrafts and what if you were one of them and you had finally managed to fall asleep only to be awakened by him and then you would not be able to sleep again and –

“Guess it is time to talk about the living arrangements,” Din muttered.

Thalassa put her datapad on the table with a clatter. “Finally,” she sounded exasperated, “I hope at least our sleeping accommodations will be sufficient.”

At the sound of her voice, you stirred next to him, your brows furrowing. Paz thought you looked adorable, like a loth cat that had fallen asleep in the sun with your cheek squished against the tweed of his suit.

“Hey, love,” he whispered, hoping no one heard how that pet name had slipped out of lips so naturally. He rose his hand to your cheek, gently coaxing you awake.

“Huh?” you murmured, blinking up confused at him before a small smile appeared on your lips.

Then you noticed the position you were in and, clearly embarrassed, scooted away from him.

“I am so sorry,” you mumbled, “That was very inappropriate of me.”

Paz wanted to protest and say that he would hold you in his arms for however long you wanted. He would be gladly at your service should you have need of a human pillow again. But even in his lovestruck state, he knew how ridiculous that sounded and so he managed to keep his mouth shut and only smile tightly at you.

“So,” Din pulled the attention on himself, “We have three beds and four people. One private room for two and one bunk bed in the larger dorms. I’d suggest you girls get the room and Paz and I take the bunk.”

“Absolutely not,” Thalassa protested, completely horrified. Paz furrowed his brows confused over why she was this opposed to something that should actually please her. Having a private room had to be one of the points on her secret lists of requirements, he was sure, why in the stars would she not want to stay in one?

“If people are out there searching for me I want to be roomed with someone who can protect me, not – not her, no offence, honey,” she gestured towards you.

“None taken,” you smiled slightly, then turned to Din, “But Thalassa is right. If people are hunting her like you say they are, then – maybe I should sleep in the dorm? I – surely, it won’t be thatbad.”

Everything in Paz’s stomach turned at the idea of you in one of the big dorms. This was the first time you had ever left your planet and you thought they would throw you into a dorm with a bunch of rowdy passengers? No way.

“Well, then how do we proceed?” Din asked, throwing a knowing look his way, “I guess it is best if Paz would be in the dorms with you, he is intimidating enough that people wouldn’t want to approach you.”

“Intimidating?” you asked confused, turning to look at Paz, “I – I don’t think he’s intimidating at all.”

Paz was positive that he had never been this flustered in his life. You didn’t think him to be intimidating. You were not intimidated by him. You were comfortable with him. Comfortable enough to even share a bunk with him.

“Is that so?” Din asked, hardly able to hide his grin, “Well, isn’t that interesting, Paz?”

Shut up, Paz thought, too focused on how you were still tucked into his side, the sleep barely gone from your eyes, Shut up and let me enjoy this.

*

The walk to the dorm was long and dark and for you, probably quite scary.

Paz was convinced that he had already witnessed at least two spice deals and you weren’t even halfway to the dorm. He was happy about it though because he was not sure what would have happened if anyone thought you had noticed their illegal wrongdoings.

But you were probably unaware of it.

You seemed to make sure never to stray too far from him or the path that you had set out for yourself, your hesitant footsteps echoing around the labyrinth that was the ship. He could see how tightly you were clutching your bag to your chest as he walked beside you and it took everything in him not to put his arm around your waist.

Where did this endless need to touch you come from?

When the door to the dormitory came into view, Paz took a deep breath, shouldered his bag. The weight of his blaster against his hop was a comfort as he braced himself for the worst. Dorms on ships these big … they could be bad.

“We’re bed 32B,” he told you and you nodded your understanding as the door slid open with a creak.

It was a huge room and it seemed endless. Paz could not even see the furthest wall from where he was standing at the entrance. But no matter how big the room seemed, it was absolutely packed with people of all ways of life and it was loud.

You backed up into him, your back bumping against his chest as a sound of fear escaped you.

“It’ll be alright, mesh’la,” he promised quietly, his hands finding your hips as he gently guided you forward. There was a resistance in your steps as he saw you watch your new surroundings. There were several bet games going on and from further down the room he was sure he heard some illegal loth cat races and even more angry shouts at a commotion just to your right.

The bunks that lined the walls each had four levels and Paz was somewhat relieved to find that your assigned bed was on the third one. Far enough up to avoid getting pulled into any of the conflicts. Far enough out of reach that he would have enough time to react if someone tried to come for you.

“I hope you don’t get claustrophobic too easily,” he muttered as he spotted how dark and small it looked. You might be able to sit up fully but he was certainly not.

Before you could step towards the ladder, however, a bright red arm stopped you, blocking your way. You squeaked and stepped right back into Paz’s chest whose arm came around your waist, holding you to him. He tried to ignore how fast his heart was beating at having you this close. Instead, he eyed the man in front of you who grinned confidently.

The alien’s eyes roamed over you slowly, dragging over every single inch of your body and Paz sneered, pulling you closer.

“Oh, where did you get this beauty, Mando?” the stranger asked, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he leered at you, “How much for a night of entertainment, girly? I promise I pay well.”

Paz did not even blink as he pulled his blaster and held it against the man’s forehead. “Touch her and you are dead,“ he growled, arm tensing around you.

Instantly, all eyes in the room focussed on the three of you and the charged weapon but he could not bring himself to care. His eyes were cold as he stared the man down, his other and still on you and he noticed how your shoulders relaxed.

The man shifted uneasily on his feet before he lifted his hands in a gesture of peace. “Alright, alright,” he muttered, taking a few steps backwards, “She’s yours, I get it, I’m backing off, you see, Mando? No need to point that thing at me.”

Paz did not lower the blaster until the man had disappeared into the darkness of the room. Soon the other passengers started minding their own business again, the chatter picking back up and the hissing of the loth cats sounding above everything else.

“C’mon,” he muttered to you, gently pushing you towards the ladder, “That one’s ours.”

You climbed into the bunk before him and scooted to the very edge of it to make space for him as well. Just as he had suspected, the bunk was too low for him and he needed to duck his head before he could even thinkof crawling into the small space.

The bunk was outfitted like most bunks he had slept in, a curtain to pull close during the night, a net at the side to store a small bag or other belongings and a dim night lamp. He pulled the curtain close immediately, fastening it at the side so no one from the outside could open it easily. Then he switched on the small lamp, flooding the little bunk with warm light.

The first thing both of you did was take off your shoes and putting them at the very end of the bed where a small shelf was located. Paz decided to store his backpack there as well. It did not necessarily feel very safe but he also did not want you to feel uncomfortable. The bunk was slim as it was.

“I – I still need to change,” you noted, shifting in what he now recognized as discomfort.

Paz felt his cheeks heating up at the implication.

“I’ll turn around and, uh, let you change,” he decided and turned his back to you. The only problem was that in his haste to offer you some privacy, Paz forgot that the bunk was not built for people of his size and smashed his head against the ceiling.

“Ouch!” he cursed, “Kriffin’ bantha –“ he grumbled, holding his head and hearing your giggle behind him.

“I’m sorry,” you managed to bring out between your quiet laughter, “It just looked so funny.”

He only grumbled, his head still pounding but his heart fluttering because you sounded so happy. It was lovely.

He took the chance to slip off his suspenders and unbutton his dress shirt, only leaving him in his Henley and his pants. It would be comfortable enough for a night’s sleep, he supposed.

When he felt you shift and rustle beside him, he took it as a sign that it was safe to turn around. This time, he ducked his head, making sure to not even come near the hard ceiling. You were dressed in your night shift, fiddling with your hands in front of your chest.

“Does – does it hurt very badly?” you asked guiltily, “Maybe we can find a bacta pill or something?”

Even in the dim light of the bunk, Paz could see the unease and guilt on your face. And he rushed to make you feel better.

“No worries, mesh’la,” he assured you, “It was just a bump and I suppose from the outside it must’ve been pretty funny.”

You smiled shyly at him, “It was and … if it makes you feel better, the next time I bump my head, you’re allowed to laugh as much as you want.”

With that, you settled down under the blankets, your cheek hitting the pillow as you expectantly looked up at him and patted the spot next to yours. “Aren’t you going to sleep too?”

He had no words. Not only were you smiling at him like that but now you also wanted him to – to really sleep beside you. No staying on top of the covers. No sitting at the end of the bed and looking out for trouble. You wanted him to sleep.

He laid down, turning so his back was towards the curtain and he was facing you. “It’s, uh it’s a tight fit,” he murmured trying to arrange his arms somehow. You smiled, carefully taking his hand and stars your skin was soft and put it behind you on your waist.

Immediately, his fingers spread out on your back, pulling you closer. The fabric of your nightdress was soft under his fingertips and he wondered if your skin felt like that too. He heard you take a deep breath and then he felt your fingers on the exposed skin of his chest, playing with the buttons of his Henley.

His eyes fluttered closed, enjoying your soft touches on him.

“Are you comfortable?” he whispered, your head tucked into his chest, “the blanket’s not very thick I could try and see if they have some more on -“

“It’s alright,” you cut him off, smiling up at him, “I’m – you – you’re very warm, but what is that?”

You shifted again and he felt something hard brush against his belly. He chuckled and put his finger to his lips to shush you with a conspiratory grin. Lifting the blanket, he revealed the blaster between the two of you.

Your eyes widened.

“Safety’s on,” he revealed, “but I don’t want to take any chances.”

You shuddered, “I’m not used to all this – this danger,” you confessed, your finger brushing against his chest and he made sure his hand didn’t flex too much on your back.

“I worry about it,” you said, “Of the things that could happen. Thalassa and I – we’ve never been anywhere but home and now this – this is so much.”

“It’ll be alright,” he promised quietly, “it’ll be alright. Just rest and as soon as you can blink we’re one day closer to Naboo.”

“W-will you be there when I wake up?”

“Yes.”

[toovirgins]

November, 2001

Summary: George Harrison reunites with an old friend.

There was a chill in the air.

All but uncomfortable, it was still and cool and calm, his skin refusing to prickle up into chills. There was no wind, or rain—bright, but no sun. Just air, all around him, refreshing and energizing and soothing all at once.

His eyes were closed. As his body began to come into itself, familiar sensations tickled up his spine. The first thing he noticed was the press of his feet and backside on the ground—must have been sitting cross-legged—and the feeling of dry, rough linen under the fingertips that rested on his thighs. His skin prickled as it recognized the feel of the linen up his torso as well.

He shifted slightly, as if waking up from a deep sleep. There was a certain mindfulness in practice, hyper-aware of the environment of his body: the cool, smooth ground beneath him, the scratch of the clothing on his skin, the curl of hair against his ear, the tickle of a mustache on his upper lip. When did he grow a mustache?

Internally, he felt… warm, cozy, almost as though in a deep state of meditation. His mind itself was drowsy, though he hadn’t tried to assess the situation much beyond physical sensation. He didn’t feel the need to.

It was nice. Peaceful, really. George couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt such a strong mind-body connection during meditation. There was nothing that existed besides the present; he had no past, and there was no future. It was not one of those times where the mindfulness revealed some grand ethereal Wisdom, and thus it somehow contained more truth. It was nothing and everything all at once.

Rather than let him enjoy this newfound spirituality, a familiar voice (in familiar habit) drew him out of the trance.

“Never thought I’d see the likes of you again, mate!”

George languidly struggled to open his eyes, a half-fight as the voice dropped the silly tone and resorted to a short, sharp chuckle at his own antics. When the eyelids had finally pried themselves open and his vision focused, George frowned.

He looked like a picture, straight out of 1961. Standing before him, arms crossed as he bit his lip with childlike excitement at the reconciliation. George blinked, hardly believing the sight in front of him.

“John?”

“In the flesh,” he grinned. Then a pause. “Or, rather, anything but the flesh?”

John was in front of him, a quite young John, staring at him with a bit of a worried expectancy.

George’s stomach suddenly dropped.

His gaze flicked around the room wildly as unrestrained panic rose in his chest. They were in a room, though it wasn’t a room, just a dull white, not so much white as simply colourless, with no décor or wallpaper or flooring or furniture although somehow, he was now sitting in a chair.

He was dead.

John must have watched the color drain from his head, for he made his way over to where George was sitting and laid an uncertain hand on his shoulder.

“It’s all right,” he soothed, nothing mocking. Nothing to make a joke of. “Takes a minute.”

George suddenly remembered he’d been sick. It was feeding back into him, slowly, as if each thought trigged a new repressed memory. He’d been sick for some time now. Images of nurses and hospital and IV’s and the dread of going to “treatment” began to flood his mind, and he shuddered. He felt a stubborn powerlessness rise within him: yes, it had gotten progressively worse, but it was nothing the old chap couldn’t handle. He’d beat it once already. He’d been stabbed, for Chrissake.

How could this happen?

He thought of Olivia, and Dhani, and choked back a sob.

“I don’t want to be here,” he spluttered in a near-beg, his chest tightening in terror once more. “I can’t be here.”

John’s hand dropped to his side as he almost (almost) rolled his eyes. He held up an imaginary list with one hand, gesturing wildly at it with the other. “Join the queue of nearly every person ever.”

George felt a needle of annoyance shoot through the fear that was slightly ebbing away. He half-wondered if this was the acceptance people talked about in death: the strange inability to control your emotions, your body progressively growing used to the idea and the knowledge of your own helplessness.

“You could stand to be a bit more empathetic, you know. I’ve just died,” he reminded with sarcastic flair.

John smiled brightly at the twinge of normalcy in the expression.

The fear was almost entirely faded now, which struck a new worry in his mind. He couldn’t just surrender to this already—it would solidify it. Make it too true. But the more he thought about it, the more comfortable he became. Against his own will, George was growing in acceptance, knowing that he should be worried but unable to feel the pull of anxiety within him. In an exasperating tug-of-war, he fought between the poles of acknowledgement and fear, a vicious feedback loop that left him confused and exasperated.

Maybe curiosity didn’t mean surrender. Maybe he could test John for some of the millions of queries floating around in his head whilst still protesting the concept of his state.

John was staring at him with wonder, almost as if he was watching George’s mind work.

Here goes nothing.

George looked at him pointedly, raising the most pressing question in his mind. “Is this Heaven?”

John blinked, and George recognized the infamous John-trying-not-to-laugh-because-this-was-a-very-extremely-serious-situation expression rise to his face. “Yes, George. It is. Jokes on you, religion, because Heaven is just me, and you, in this room, and sometimes we play marbles or jack off.”

His face turned more serious at George’s scowl. He went for a Take 2, his voice much softer now. “No, actually,” he corrected, scratching his cheek. “I think it’s some sort of… Purgatory. Bardo.”

George’s chest felt odd. “Purgatory,” he repeated slowly.

“Purgatory.”

“I don’t understand.”

John clicked his tongue. “Again, love. The queue.”

“Purgatory,” George said again, softly, the words dripping with disbelief.

“The in-between,” John elaborated with a grandiose wave of a hand. “You die, you fuck around here for a bit, and if you’re lucky, you pass on.”

George couldn’t contain his curiosity. “To what?”

John’s features twisted into a strange expression. “I, erm… I don’t know.”

George’s face fell. Right. “Do you…” He began carefully, mulling over the taste of the words in his mouth and sussing out which were the least bitter. “Does time pass the same, then? Here?”

John shrugged indifferently. “You don’t notice it, really. There’s no days or nights—time is a construct, anyway. Haven’t thought about it since. There’s also no expectation, so no boredom. And sometimes I see old friends.” He finished with a signal in George’s direction.

George nodded, swallowing dryly. He doesn’t know.

How long it’s been.

John caught his eye, and George flicked his gaze away in an instant before he could catch on. But John was quick as a cat, just like in youth, and his mouth pressed into a firm line. “George?”

George shook his head.

“George?” His voice was strained now, his demeanor thrown by the unsettling responses. “How long has it been? In-in actual time.”

Wincing at the question he knew he’d elicited, George averted his eyes and spoke near incomprehensibly. “Twenty years.”

John looked dazed.

After a long beat of silence, he snorted dryly. There was nothing humorous in the sound. “Suppose they’re still tryin’ to figure out what to do with me, then.” He paused. “For Chrissake, I already apologized in ’66.”

Neither man laughed at the joke. It was quiet for a long time.

“So.” John interrupted the stretch of silence, rather loudly, startling him. He clapped his hands together. “How’s Rings?”

George felt strangely hollow at the mention of his best friend. “Good. Married again, not long after you—” He stopped himself, unable to finish the sentence. It was still hard to wrap his mind around, all these years later. Even now, that John was standing in front of him, chipper as the day they’d first met (more so, perhaps). Even now, that they were both… “After you.”

“Is he?” John looked surprised, curious. “What’s she like?”

“Name’s Barbara. Ritchie made a film in ’81 called Cavemanand they met on the set. He really loves her. Oh, she’s fantastic,” George asserted, wishing John could have been there, needing John to have been there.

“Watch it,” John warned, his voice light and teasing.

George scowled.

John pushed his shoulder playfully, and George slumped further into the chair, defeated. As John’s laughter died down, George looked up at him and watched in fascination as the man did a complete 180.

The smile melted from his face, and a chill fell over the room.

“I—m…” John cleared his throat, offering the ground a watery smile. “I miss Paul.”

George was suddenly standing knee-deep in the ocean. Nothing in the room was different besides the knowledge that the water on the floor was Pacific. John was there still, only further away now, feverishly blinking the tears away with that desolate smile on his face. Before George could call out to him, comfort him, he turned back towards the expansive sea only to be confronted with a fifty-foot wave.

The breath was knocked from his chest as the wave crashed down with full force, heart shattering on impact. He let out an involuntary gasp at the sudden rush of pain that washed over his chest and began to stumble backwards, tears burning in his eyes. There was no water, no wave, and he was still standing, dry as a bone, but the sensation was all the same. Panic began to rise in his throat, blinded by an incomprehensible catalogue of torment, longing, anger, desperation, heartache. Every excruciating emotion simultaneously wrecked his being, coupled with the strangely overpowering feeling of raw, unabashed love.

John caught his arm, quickly pulling him into a hug. George hadn’t realized that he was close again, and gripped him tightly for fear of having him drift away with the tides that were no longer there. Tears streamed down his face as John stroked soothingly at his hair, muttering sweet comforts and apologies over his head.

“I’m sorry, fuck, mate, I’m sorry,” he babbled, trying to squeeze away George’s trembling sobs. “It works like that here, sometimes. Christ, I’m sorry. It’s all right. You’re all right.”

George sniffed, feeling like a child as he pressed closer into his friend’s body. “Works like what?”

John tensed a bit, though George couldn’t understand why. He spoke slowly, sure but hesitant in his explanation. “Emotions. They’re… different. It’s sort of like all that Hare Krishna unity bullshit—” George wrinkled his nose. “—and whatnot, the whole ‘collective unconscious’.”

George frowned at the implication, taking a tentative step back. “You mean…”

“Feel each other’s emotions, you can,” John answered without missing a beat. He spoke plainly, as if he’d explained this away hundreds of times before. “But there’s a historical aspect, too, that part I don’t quite understand. It only happens sometimes.” His eyes lit up as his voice quieted, mumbling to himself more so than George. “Maybe they had to have been there at the time? ‘Cause of the thing with Elvis…?”

George looked up at him in shock, ignoring John’s musings. “That was you? All that?”

John offered him a lopsided smile.

George’s heart began to pound in wild misunderstanding. He’d always known, of course, that John and Paul had that “special connection” that whisked them away to an entirely different reality. He’d grown up an outsider, watching in on the world’s most famous duo and feeling just like anyone else, at times. His stomach felt queasy and slightly bitter at the thought that perhaps he hadn’t even known the half of it.

All that for Paul?

He suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to comfort John. John’s pain was gone now, replaced by only a dull ache, causing George to shudder at the idea of his mate going through that alone all those years ago.

“Paul’s… good,” he said, slightly unevenly. It felt like a good place to start.

John looked up at him quickly, his eyes both intrigued and desperate. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” George smiled. “He came to visit me. Not long…” His breath caught. “Not long before this.”

“I saw Linda,” John said quietly.

An image flashed in George’s mind of John in the very same room, sitting in a cushioned chair. In the vision, his eyes flicked up from the book in his hands, and he did a double-take, uncrossing his ankle from his knee and sitting up abruptly. Somehow, George knew that he was Linda, seeing John through her eyes. He—Linda—offered John a welcome, familial smile, and George noticed the portfolio of expressions on John’s face as the two radiated towards one another with emotions that George could not feel. And then—nothing.

In front of him now, John shifted uncomfortably, and George tried to get his bearings in the present once more. “She didn’t stay long.”

“It was hard,” George agreed, still trying to shake the vision. “She was the love of his life.”

John nodded, avoiding his eyes.

“He never stops talking about you.”

A beat. “I never stop thinking about him.”

Something passed between them. George wished he could go back in time and relive every Beatle moment together with this newfound information. Suddenly, as if they hadn’t before, things made sense: Paris, the LSD trips, India, the breakup. The songwriting feud. Yoko.

He understood now, that it was a complicated love that surpassed the boundaries of typical labels: no dating or marriageor sex, neither platonic nor romantic. There was a lust, but it was different than any other attraction George had experienced; it was motivated, driven by something much larger than himself. None of it was a means to an end—simply living, appreciating one another, taking it day by day until it imploded and rained down on them like a meteor shower, the disastrous aftermath of planned obsolescence. A love like that could never be.

George felt eager to change the subject.

“Have you seen lots of people passing through, then?” His gaze twitched away to offer the barest amount of privacy as John’s hand came up to quickly swipe a stray tear.

“Um, yeah.” He cleared his throat. “You’d never believe—Elvis was here, when I first got here, which was right thrilling. We talked about everything under the sun for who-knows-how-long, but he left too not long after.” He nodded. “Linda. Some lads from school. Real nice chap named Freddie. He and I made a song together, though I can’t remember it now. He was in that up-and-coming rock group, the one on the tail end of the Beatles.”

“Queen,” George corrected, fascinated.

“No, that’s not it. I wanna say… Oh, you know who was a pleasure?” John switched onto this entirely new track, never missing a beat. “I met some psychologist. Taught me all about these fab concepts like behaviorism and operant conditioning and all that. I’d heard about his book, but I hadn’t read it until I met him. Verbal Behavior, is what it was. Real smart guy.”

“Do you see everyone?”

John thought for a moment. “No, certainly not. People die every minute. I’d be dreadfully overwhelmed.”

George smiled. “That is true. Lucky I showed up here, then.”

John returned the grin, almost sadly. “Yes, but you won’t stay long.”

George felt the strangest urge to reach for John’s hand. He suppressed it. “I want to.”

John shook his head. “You’re a good person, George.”

There were a lot of things to say in response. You are too, Johnny. I’m not a good person. We’ve both done some shit. ‘Good person’ is an arbitrary term because we are not our actions, so it wouldn’t matter, even.But nothing felt quite equipped to rival the emptiness of John’s eyes, so he said nothing.

“What do I look like, Geo?” He asked suddenly, staring a hole in George’s head with newfound curiosity.

The question caught him off guard. “What do you mean?”

John waved a hand dismissively as if it were the most normal question in the world. “Come on now, what do I look like?”

George just blinked. “Like… John.”

With a roll of eyes, John reached out and twirled a finger around the tip of George’s mustache. “You’re all Pepper-like. What about me?”

It suddenly occurred to George that this was not how John always looked, and hadn’t been for nearly forty years. He shifted a bit, startled at the realization. “Oh! Erm—Hamburg. Like we’d just stepped out of Top Ten.”

John grinned and stepped back. “Fascinating, isn’t it? It’s always different. That one, I can’t figure out. I first realized when Freddie asked why I looked like ’74 instead of when I died. I couldn’t give him an answer, on account of I hadn’t even realized that fact.”

George laughed, though it wasn’t funny. There was a giddiness bubbling up in him, mirroring the excitement with which John talked. He felt so bizarrely thrilled that his fingers began to tingle, and he chuckled at that too. The feeling rivaled that of a limb falling asleep, and he mindlessly shook his hand to quiet the growing sensation.

John’s face immediately fell.

George’s stomach dropped at the sudden change of pace. “What?”

His eyes were shining when he spoke the plea to anything that would listen. “No, please,” he muttered, lip trembling. Shaking fingers reached out to grasp at George’s bicep. “Not—not yet, I’m not ready—”

George’s heart hammered in his chest, hardly able to hear himself speak over the blood rushing in his ears. The tingle had snaked its way up his forearms now, and a similar feeling started in his toes. “John, John, what is it? What’s going on?”

“George, please don’t go. Please. This isn’t—it’s not long enough, I need you, I need more time, Geo…” The words trailed off, and a tear fell from each eye as John pulled him into his arms as if that could keep George there. As if he could save them.

George slowly started to understand, swallowing the alarm at John’s frantic reaction. He was going to pass on, to leave John behind just like everyone else in his life. But this was a different kind of departure. It was not Julia’s absence, Mimi’s coldness, Paul’s Linda. It was not even Uncle George’s death, or Brian’s death, or even Julia’s death. At least, those times, he could find someone, something new to latch on to.

George would have felt pity for the man if not for the immense heartbreak, the indescribable pain of watching John come emotionally undone before him.

“It’s okay,” he soothed, blinking as a falling tear graced his own face. He felt oddly in control of the situation, despite seconds away from venturing into the greatest Unknown of all Unknowns. “Shh, John, it’s all right. Listen, we got to do this, didn’t we? We got to talk. And laugh. Just like old times, right?”

John’s voice broke. “I love you, Geo. Don’t go.”

They both knew it was a fruitless request.

George gripped him a bit harder in the embrace, feeling with hopeless acceptance as the tingling feeling reached his shoulders and began to pour down his back. He spoke the only thing that would come to mind.

“I’ll see you,” he whispered, a promise tainted by his own fearful tears slipping onto John’s shoulder.

John’s arms tightened around his waist. “I’ll see you,” he repeated.

[raindownforme]

Writing Event

Hi! I was tagged by @jschllatt for a writing event, and this is for her!

———

5. Charlie slimecicle x reader [they/them used] (reader had freckles for context)

y/n stirred in their sleep, doing their best to shift with the almost unfamiliar weight. Almost, as if they didn’t know what it felt like to have someone else laying on top of them.

“Charlie?”

“No no no, go back to sleep.”

y/n peeked one eye open, looking at their boyfriend. Charlie was lazily propped up on one arm, the rest of his weight draped over y/n’s once sleeping self.

“Good morning I guess.” y/n tried to move, but found themself still stuck under Charlie. He had a leg wrapped between theirs and a hand holding the side of their face. “Can I get up yet?”

“No wait I’m counting.” Charlie’s voice was hushed, just above a whisper. y/n watched him squint as he focused on various points of their face.

“Maybe you’d be quicker if you put your glasses on.”

Charlie gasped, letting go of y/n’s face to reach over to the bedside table. He returned with his glasses resting on his nose, starting to fall off from the angle. “Okay. Now I have to start over.”

“Do we have to do this right now?” y/n yawned.

“Aw, you’re adorable. And yes I do.”

“Babe, I want to get up. Can you do this later? Some other time I’m asleep?”

“Fine I’ll stop counting.”

“Thank you.”

“Now it’s time to play connect-the-dots!” Charlie pulled y/n closer with his legs. He began to very gently drag his finger across the surface of y/n’s skin, following made-up patterns and lines.

y/n hummed lowly, feigning annoyance with their boyfriend. “Can you stop playing connect-the-dots with my freckles?”

Charlie drew back his touch. “Fine.” He rolled over, releasing y/n from his weight, and rolled over.

y/n propped themselves upright, frowning. “Don’t tell me you’re upset?”

Charlie mumbled a response and y/n leaned closer to try and hear him. He leaned closer a bit as well, repeating himself. “I wanted to see.”

“They aren’t even patterns, it’s just dots.”

“No, these ones-“ Charlie turned back and very gently put his thumb over the side of their face, right over where the cheek bones began and to the side of the outer corner of their eye. “It’s almost a triangle shape. Or a couple triangles. There a couple patterns, you just don’t see them.”

y/n paused, almost freezing under Charlie’s touch, then leaned into the contact. “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Get back here and keep counting loser.”

y/n opened their arms, allowing Charlie to get back to his previous position in the shared bed and continue happily connecting the dots.

———

8. Charlie Slimecicle x reader [they/them]

y/n shivered. It was that kind of early morning cold. The being on a leather car seat while the wind whipped outside. The early morning chill of January.

y/n and Charlie knew this was coming. They’d known for two months know. Earlier, in the beginning of November when they planned the trip, neither one of them felt the sadness they feel now. They’d both been happy; y/n had the ability to come stay the whole month with Charlie. Usually, the couple could only see each other a few weeks out of the year. Usually it was Charlie with the looser schedule, and usually that made Charlie the one to drive or fly the distance between them.

y/n stared out the window lazily. There weren’t very many people out on the roads at this hour. They watched the grey industrial buildings pass as Charlie turned into the airport, going up to the third floor of the parking garage and finding an empty spot.

y/n quietly and slowly unbuckled themself from the car. They left the car, turning to see Charlie already holding their large suitcase. y/n smiled at him, small tears coming to their eyes. They reached out politely, trying to take it from him.

“No I want it.”

“It’s okay, it’s not even yours.”

“Let me. Please?”

y/n gave in with a smile, taking Charlie’s free hand in theirs as they let Charlie lead them into the airport. They made their way across the patterned carpet to the check-desk.

“Hi there.” There was a lone employee working the front desk. She extended a hand outwards. “Boarding pass and ID please?” y/n fished though their carry-on bag, bringing forth the paper and plastic card. The employee scanned it and looked over at their computer. “Alright, just you y/n?”

“Yes.” y/n knew it wasn’t meant to be cruel, but the words still dug at their skin and itched at their bones. Just them. No Charlie. They’d be alone. Again.

“Alright. That’ll be gate 36B. Unfortunately, sir, you can’t come to the gate.”

“What the farthest I can come?” Charlie glanced over to y/n.

“Just to TSA.”

“Is there any way?”

“I’m sorry I can only bend that rule if you’re accompanying a minor.”

Charlie nodded and the couple walked away. They walked towards the large LED bord that displayed the flight information. y/n watched Charlie scan it with squinted eyes.

“401 right? Flight 401? We’ve got— shit.” Charlie frowned. “40 minutes. We move gotta get you through security.”

“We?”

Charlie looked back to y/n. They had tears brimming their eyes and were fiddling with a loose string on the sleeve of their sweater. They were still wearing Charlie’s sweater.

“I guess I can’t take you any further.”

“I know that.”

“You don’t have to get mad at me.” Charlie frowned at y/n. He set their bag to the side and gently took the carry-on from their shoulders, placing it near the bag. Charlie pulled them closer, wrapping his body around them and leaning his head against the top of theirs. “I’ll see you again.”

“But when?” y/n did their best to not cry, but it seemed impossible in this moment. They were tired. They were cold. And they had to leave the person they cared for more than anything within the next ten minutes.

“I don’t know. Valentine’s Day? I can try and drive over in maybe April?”

“But that’s such a long drive. God why can’t this be fucking easier?” y/n groaned against Charlie’s shoulder, grasping onto his shirt tighter with their fists. “It took me so long to save for this and I don’t know— I don’t know anything.”

“Then move in with me.”

“What?” y/n looked at Charlie with a strange smile. It wasn’t the first time Charlie had suggested the idea, but they’d only been dating for a few months the last time it was mentioned. Now they were a year and 6 months deep and it was the first it had been mentioned in a while.

“Or I’ll move in with you. We wouldn’t have to be separated, and I could work virtually anywhere.”

“We don’t have— I don��t have room at my place for a streaming set up.”

“We can get an all new place. Just us. We can go look around when I’m down there.”

y/n thought for a moment. “Alright. You better hurry then.”

“Of course.”

The two stood in silence for a minute, still hugging. y/n glanced over at the clock that hung near the LED display. “I gotta go. I still gotta get through security.”

“No. Wait, don’t pull away… not yet.” Charlie pressed y/n even closer, leaving light kisses on the top of their head and the side of their face. “I love you. Please text me when you land. Like seriously.”

“I will I will. I love you too.”

“Okay.” Charlie let y/n go. He handed them all their stuff and stepped back, taking them in before not seeing them for the next few weeks. “How many other sweater did you steal?”

“Only two more, but I think I deserve them.”

“Alright.” Charlie laughed a bit. “Go get on your flight.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

Charlie watched silently as y/n made their way through security. It took them almost five minutes, but once on the other side, they sent a sad wave to Charlie and walked off to the gates. Charlie waited a moment, hesitating, then made the walk to his car alone. He crossed the airport street alone. He walked in the parking garage alone. And he got in his car and drove home. Alone.

———

12. Canon! Charlie slimecicle x reader [they/them used]

Las Nevadas was on fire. The water feature had died out hours ago. The casino was crumbling to stone. The tower had been cut in half. The strip club had been shattered. The restaurant had been torn apart. The roads were destroyed. The toll bridge had collapsed.

But they won, right?

Quackity stood alone. He watched his allies from a short distance. Foolish supported Purpled’s weight as he leaned against the god with a broken leg. Fundy rested against a wall, panting and covered in blood that didn’t belong to himself. Sam was no where to be seen, but they knew he was still alive.

But Slime? He was running. He was running in a large circle, searching through rubble and ash as he shouted.

“y/n?” Y/N?” He leaned on his hands and knees in the sand. His suit had been ruined for a long time now. The seams of his button up shirt had begun to rip in battle, the bottom of his pant legs had been singed and torn and blackened by the battle, and he wore only one suspender now, the other one much too weak and quite easily forgotten. He did not wear his tie, however he knew who was wearing it. “y/n?”

“Quackity,” Fundy looked upwards to his ally. “We can’t let him.”

Quackity ran a shaky, blood-stained hand down the front of his own suit in a nervous manner. “He has to find out somehow. Do you want to tell him?”

Fundy didn’t say anything, instead watching his friend run around. “Y/N!”

“This is cruel.” Foolish whispered to Purpled. The young boy could only nod in agreement, just a little too weak to do much else. Foolish, realizing this, helped the teen move over to sit next to Fundy, resting him against the crumbling wall of the fountain. Foolish turned around with the intent to aid Slime in his search, but was stopped by a simple hand placed upon his shoulder.

Quackity stood to the left of Foolish. He could see Quackity do his best to hold in the tears that had already left small tracks through the dust that had settled over Quackity’s face. “Just— let him. I can’t tell him. I can’t.”

The group watched Slime dig by hand. The rouble almost phased through his skin, but he kept digging. When he got too frustrated by one building, he ran to the next one, repeating the process. They watched on in pain for only a minute longer. Fundy looked to Foolish and Quackity. “Do we know where-?”

“Y/N.” Slime screamed in utter joy, pulling out y/n from the rubble. He proudly carried them back over to where Quackity and the rest of the group sat, gently setting them down on the ruined pavement. He kneeled with them, resting their head in his lap. Slime very gently carded his fingers through their hair, seeming to think to himself. He reached deep into the pocket of his pants, pulling out a neon pink healing potion.

Foolish shrugged off Quackity’s grasp and walked over to where Slime sat. He kneeled down next to the green guy, placing a hand on his shoulder to try and pull him away. “Slime, buddy—“

“Let me go.” Slime’s voice was gentle and somehow mature. He spoke sadly, but also as though he understood what was happening still. “I can still save them. I know I can.”

Foolish glanced back to the group to watch Quackity shake his head solemnly. “Buddy, I know it’s hard-“

“No, I promised.” Slime’s voice began to shake. He desperately poured the potion over the parts of y/n’s body where damage was obvious; bruises from the crushing rubble, burns from the fires and explosions, and the gaping cauterized sword wound to their abdomen. Slime smiled as he gazed at their peaceful face. It almost looked like they were sleeping. “I promised them.”

“Promised what buddy?”

“I told them everyone turns to dust and goes away, but I promised them I wouldn’t let it happen. I’ve seen it happen. I watched it. And I wouldn’t let them turn to dust.” Slime leaned down, pressing a light kiss to y/n’s forehead. He stayed close, whispering to the corpse in his lap. “Im so sorry.”

Foolish placed a hand on Slime’s shoulder again, trying to pull him away. “Buddy-“

“No!” He pushed Foolish away, leaning closer to y/n and holding them in a protective embrace. Slime gently laid a hand on y/n wrist, feeling the material of his neck tie in a knot around it. “I can still help them, please just let me— let me save them. Please.”

The group sat in silence. Slime’s shoulders shook as he sobbed over y/n’s body. Fundy and Quackity wiped away a few tears as well, listening to their friend wail into the night.

———

14. Charlie slimecicle x reader [they/them]

“Listen, man, hurry up. We were supposed to leave twenty minutes ago.” Schlatt leaned back into the plush leather seat, resting a hand over his eyes.

Charlie sighed, looking over the stuff he’d piled on the couch. He huffed, looking around. “Okay. I’ve got my phone, charger, wallet, jacket, I’m dressed, teeth brushed, what the fuck am I forgetting?”

“Uh, buddy.” Ted cleared his throat and tapped at the side of his face. Charlie paused for a moment, squinting before realizing what he missed.

“My glasses! My goddamn glasses. Alright gimme a minute.”

The two boys watched Charlie walk back down the hall of Ted’s apartment. Schlatt groaned and lazily stood up from his seat. He walked over to the small pile of Charlie’s stuff and began sorting through.

“What are you doing?”

“If I can find these faster, maybe we can actually get out of here.” Schlatt stuck his hands into the pockets of Charlie’s jacket. “Hate this fucking smog— oh.”

“Oh?” Ted sat up slightly, watching Schlatt pull a small black velvet box out. “Oh. Oh! Holy fuck.”

“Did he talk to you about this?” Schlatt dropped the volume of his voice, trying to not alert Charlie.

“No not at all. Is it for y/n?”

“I guess.” Ted and Schlatt had never met y/n in person before, only talking when they would be nearby if Charlie was in a discord call. But the two knew that Charlie loved them dearly, he talked about them whenever he got the chance. He boasted about anything y/n did, anywhere they went, any thing he could say.

“Do we— do we give him advice? Do we say anything?”

“Do you have advice to give someone who’s about to propose?”

Schlatt bit the inside of his lip. Instead of responding to Ted, he opened the box and his eyes went wide. “Holy shit dude.”

“What?” Ted got up and walked over to Schlatt’s side. The ring Charlie had gotten was beautiful; a silver band with ornate vines that held very small diamonds, all encasing a round amber gem. Ted very gently took the box from Schlatt, rotating it back and forth to see how the light glimmered on the gemstones.

“Ted this is… where’d he even get that?”

“I don’t know.” Ted stared into the ring. “We shouldn’t be hanging this. We should put it back.”

“Why do I want to wear it?”

“Why do you?”

Schlatt took the box from Ted, staring at it for a moment, then put it back in the coat pocket. He shuffled the jacket around, trying to make the setting look natural. “Now wha—“

“Okay I found it.” Charlie ran out of the room, rubbing at the glass with his shirt material. “What are we standing about?”

“Nothing.” Ted turned to Charlie quickly, awkwardly smiling. “Ready?”

The three boys made their way from Ted’s home to his car, then out onto the streets of Hollywood, headed towards Santa Monica. It was only a half-hour drive, and no one had too much to say.

“So. Charles.” Ted glanced at his friend in the backseat through the rear view mirror. “How are you and y/n doing?”

Schlatt made a pointed look at Ted as Charlie began talking. “We’re great! They got this really big job and we’re going to celebrate when I get back. There’s this restaurant downtown that’s so pretty— it’s their favorite! I mean, it was going to be a surprise, but hopefully it all goes well.”

Schlatt, thought for a moment, catching on to what Ted was thinking. “Is there something that needs to go well? It’s just dinner isn’t it?”

“Actually, can I tell you both about something?”

“Yes.” They both answered in unison, turning to look at Charlie as they stopped at the red light.

“Well, I wanted to, at dinner, I mean we weren’t doing dinner until I get back home, but I have this.” Both boys held their breath as Charlie went fishing in his jacket pockets. It took him a few minutes to procure the small black box, but eventually his found it and held it forwards, showing it off to his friends.

“Wow. Proposing?” Schlatt laid surprise thick into his voice, and thankfully Charlie didn’t notice.

“Yeah! I picked it out myself. Here look.” Charlie opened up the box, showing off the gems that sparkled in the sunlight. Schlatt glanced up at Ted who stared forwards at the 10 freeway.

“That’s really cool, thanks for telling us.”

Charlie frowned. “Is it not as good idea? You don’t sound that excited.”

“No it’s a great idea! I mean obviously we don’t know y/n as well.” Schlatt gestured to himself and Ted. “But it’s obvious you love them. I mean look at you, buying a ring and everything. Making dinner plans, Charlie this is amazing.”

“Also Schlatt found the ring earlier.”

Schlatt smacked Ted on the arm, sending him a glare. “So you guys knew?” Charlie smacked the box shut.

“Not on purpose. I was trying to find your glasses and I just happened across it. You didn’t hide it very well.”

“I—“

Ted laid on the horn, repeatedly honking at the Tesla that had cut him off. “Son of a mother fucker.”

“Starting to hate LA?”

Ted peered over at Schallt with a glare, then went back to driving. “We are happy for you Charlie, we were just kind of waiting for you to mention it to us.”

“Yeah, and we want to meet y/n! It’s been two years now?”

“Of course you can.” Charlie scratched at the back of his neck. “I’m just scared? I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never felt so strongly about anyone before. I’m terrified.”

“Hey, you’ll be okay. It’s y/n. You fly home tomorrow right?” Charlie nodded. “Let us know how it goes man. I’m invested now.”

Charlie laughed. “Alright. Tomorrow.”

Tomorrow, Charlie took the 7 hour flight home. In that same day, Ted and Schlatt each received a picture of y/n wearing the engagement ring around their finger, both them and Charlie smiling wide.

———

Congrats Nat on getting 1k!

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

being honest i dont get jm using a award to say he misses tannie... we don’t know 90% of their lives but they are very close to the point of still sleeping together sometimes. and going deep if they were really a couple jm woudnt miss taes dog right? and even as friends he could visit it. unless its because of their schedule right... this kind of comment sometimes confuses me and haters will use it as “they arent close” lol. i just wanted to know your pov.

Judging by Admin 2's reaction, as well as some others in our asks, I have a feeling I was the only one with a more realistic expectation, or lack of expectations, as I waited for the BTS profiles to be posted. Based on last year's, I knew expecting something grand out of Tae, and especially Jimin, would just be me setting myself up for failure, which is what I think happened here.

But, let's discuss it.

I spent a solid couple of hours making an excel table last night that contains everything every member said about every member (sourcing 3 translators for maximum insight) to see if really what Jimin chose for Tae is so "bad" that suddenly people are sending us asks like this one, and another one I'll add later down the line. And the conclusion I've come to is that...what he gave to Tae, as well as Hobi and Seokjin, as awards are the only ones that have any actual emotional/personal connection to them.

With Namjoon and JK Jimin basically states the obvious--Namjoon is tall and JK has gained muscle mass, meaning nothing new or with a proper emotional connection was stated; to Yoongi he made the same request many other members have made, so a work connection, nothing inherently personal.

Now, compared to that--Seokjin teases him/them, which isn't new info, so Jimin asked him to stop or do it less, a valid request which I'm sure he also voiced to Seokjin outside of this FESTA profile and also shows a degree of personal connection; Hobi gets requested to not walk away after asking Jimin a question, which again shows a personal connection and that it's a reoccurring thing; and lastly Tae with Tannie.

Something I've noticed is that some ARMY, who are used to our western celebrities and draw conclusions about idols based on those parameters, forget that BTS are busy, like whatever you consider busy, take that and multiply it by ten. During his vlive with Hobi and Yoongi back in April, Tae said that they are much busier and their lives far more hectic than any of us realize. Taking that into account, and the fact that one of the members (I think it might have been Seokjin) mentioned they work at least ten hours a day for 360 days a year with practice, MV and CF filming, photoshoots, interviews, recording and working on music, meetings, and many other things we have no idea about, do you really think Yeontan lives with Tae full time? A dog needs to get walked and fed but if Tae is out of the house every day for at least ten hours, what would happen to Tannie? He'd just sit around at home alone all day which just isn't fair, so I'm sure Tannie lives with Tae's parents much the same way Micky lives with Hobi's parents and/or his sister, JKs dog lives with his family, Holly lives with Yoongi’s brother, Moni with Namjoon's, and years ago Seokjin had to give his sugar gliders to his parents because he was too busy to take care of them.

Based on that of that, I'm not sure how often Tae get's to see Tannie. Probably not all that often, to be honest. So, if Tannie's owner doesn't get to see him often, I'd assume Jimin gets to see him even less (if we work on the assumption that Tannie lives with Tae's parents and thus Tae could only really see him when visiting them or when they visit him, that means Jimin wouldn't be able to see Tannie just like that either, since that would be like intruding on family time, right?). And we know Jimin loves Tannie, so him using that award to say he misses him and is asking about him shows care and an emotional connection to Tannie. Do I think Jimin also asks Tae privately about Tannie? Absolutely. And still, while Jimin didn't give Tae the, I don't know, "hot body Award" like Yoongi did with Namjoon or the "person I love most in the world award" (which we should know by now would never happen, and if you expected something of that intensity level, than I'm sorry but you've set yourself up for disappointment from the start), he still drew a personal and emotional connection between himself and Tae, as well as the pet Tae loves dearly.

More below the cut:

Jimin could’ve asked about the other pets of the members, but he didn’t, he only ever really talked about Tannie, and here he does it again, so doesn’t that show that he has a bond with him, a closer one than the other members since they don’t/didn’t ask about him (except for Hobi that one time on weverse)?

Speaking of Hobi, am I the only one who finds it interesting and cute that he only drew little hearts for Jimin and Tae when writing down their awards?

Also, we have to remember that these profiles are for us, fan content (remember when Jimin asked Tae last year to post more pictures of Tannie on weverse because ARMY miss seeing him, so what if this is drawing a connection/parallel to that?), and not meant as the members “confessing” something to each other that they otherwise wouldn’t or don’t have the chance to do so. It’s not meant to be all that serious and instead just be fun and nice for us to read, show us a bit of their dynamic and that’s it, no world shattering revelations to be found, from any of them. Or do you really think Yoongi doesn’t like Jimin just because he told Jimin he’s trying too hard to be funny? It’s just part of their dynamic. Or that none of the members have anything else to say to JK besides commenting on his body/appearance? As for vmin, I’d like to remind us of this moment from their Friends subunit interview for FESTA 2020:

Whatever Jimin and Tae want to say to each other, they don’t need FESTA to do it, or us to be there as witnesses. Like Tae didn’t already say enough by telling us that 95z is love. Or Jimin by writing Friends.

From anon: because of you I came back da Namjin. I am a senior army and 2 years ago I left Namjin because I thought they broke up. You made me three Vmin but after what JK wrote about Jimin and after Jm himself about his chances I think that vmin are not together or Jimin withdrew. I think Jk would not dare to write about Jm that he has cute fingers etc if vmin were a relationship. it goes too far and confuses Jk too much. I don't want to say that J / k*ok is real because it certainly isn't !!!!

Now this is where I just sit and sigh heavily because it’s exactly what I expected and I will admit it irks me to no end. Let’s establish a little timeline:

Based on the FESTA Mission! BTS 4 Cuts Teaser that was posted earlier we can deduce that at least part of FESTA was already being prepared back in the first half of March, since on March 12th Jimin, Namjoon and Seokjin had their salad making vlive. Let’s suppose that everything FESTA related was prepared and written out by the members around that time as well. Sometime later BTS filmed YOU QUIZ followed by LET’S BTS and BTSxGame Caterers and everything else we’ve seen after that.

Or going a little further back to sometime in November 2020 while they were preparing for MMA 2020 and the Black Swan performance. We got the practice video today and if you pay attention to Jimin and Tae even there you notice that while Tae is waiting for his turn in the choreography, Jimin runs past him after his part is done (0:55) and they pat each other or do a “high five” or something along those lines as a way to cheer each other on. A very “we’re broken up” or “I will break up with him soon” thing to do, right? Or in min-January when Tae posted seven pictures out of which three were of just Jimin after an ARMY on weverse asked if anyone had any nice pictures they could use as wallpaper for their phone. Between all that I’m having a hard time honestly finding any moment where either of them seemed sad or “cold” toward the other the way you would be and feel if the person you love pulled away from you or broke up with you.

If you are still unconvinced and still think that is what Jimin tried to communicate to us, would Tae really have gone on national TV and said he likes Jimin the most? And would Jimin have agreed that he likes him a lot as well? Or looking at the making video of their Kloud Beer CF that was posted today as well, would Jimin really be looking and interacting with Tae this way if he decided to end things between them?

Also, going back a little, your mention of Jimin reflecting upon opportunities/chances now that it’s a new year. My question is based on what you made the judgment that this comment has to be about vmin and not about something entirely different in Jimin’s life, or maybe something connected to BTS as a whole? Just because of him asking Tae about Tannie? Jimin, as well as Tae and the other members, have entire lives outside of just their bonds with each other, entire careers, passion projects, families, friend groups, and that little bit of time they have to themselves, so immediately thinking Jimin’s comment must be related to his relationship/bond with Tae basically makes it seem like Jimin’s life is a romcom or a TV show in which the only thing that matters is if the main character will date or remain in a relationship with character B or not, but life isn’t like that.

Personally it reminded me of something Tae said during their Bring the Soul documentary about how BTS had the opportunities to go higher faster but they decided against them. Perhaps Jimin’s comment was about something like this as well, especially since we know Jimin is a very private person and very selective of the personal things he shares with us and the ones he doesn’t.

For the FESTA profile JK decided to give Jimin the “Cute Award” with the explanation that his “Face, height, fingers are cute” which, honestly, is just saying something that a) is true and b) has been said in millions of ways by every member across the last couple of years. I don’t see what the issue here is? During one of the episodes of BTSxGame Caterers Seokjin said that Jimin is very cute and that he has a small, beautiful face, so really he even added the word beautiful in there, which JK did not, so what really is the issue here? The fact its JK, right, that’s where the issue lies, to which I ask why? On this blog we’ve already established that there is (in our opinion and based on everything we’ve seen and heard) no romantic connection between JK and Jimin (nor Tae), not now and not in the past either, so why is him saying that Jimin is cute (which he is known for even by people outside of ARMY, or like James Cordon calling him his cute baby mochi) is an issue but Seokjin or any other member is not? Either we use the same measurements for everyone or we don’t compare or make such assumptions about any of them.

What I find curious, because this does make it seem like you, anon, are someone influenced by J*k*ok shippers and their opinions, see an issue in JK saying that about Jimin, and how that’s “proof” that Jimin and Tae can’t possibly be together, and yet you took no issue to Namjoon basically saying he wants to give Tae an award because he is so handsome he is above every list or Yoongi comparing him to Michelangelo's David, both of these being much more superlative and grand complements/awards than JK saying Jimin’s face, height and fingers are cute.

It’s funny how things that Jimin and Tae have said about and to each other that make their bond very clear (I want to live with my lovely Taehyungie forever or here is my love for you while handing Tae a bunch of red heart balloons or 95z is love, a statement I’m sure he wouldn’t post if that sentiment weren’t mutual) are all questioned or ignored, but something as basically trivial as a comment about Jimin being cute is turned into a major issue. The mental gymnastics is fascinating.

Lastly, going back to the first anon and their mention of how haters will use Jimin’s Award for Tae as “proof” that they “aren’t close anymore”--why do we care? Like Namjoon said in the Mic Drop lyrics Haters gon’ hate. They will say a lot of things about a lot of things and even make things up if they feel like it to push their agenda, so really, regardless of what Jimin would’ve said, or not said, they would’ve found a way to twist it and make it fit their narrative. Besides, what haters think has no actual effect or bearing on what Tae and Jimin have with each other, and neither does what other shippers claim. Haters and other shippers don’t control the narrative, BTS do, and everything Jimin and Tae have shown us in 2021, as well as the last eight years, shows me that their bond has only ever grown stronger and closer and more beautiful and awe inspiring, even while haters claimed they stopped being friends years ago, so why should you or I care what they think?

Like Yoongi once said in one of his vlives about how haters can write all they want, he won’t read it while they will get sued.