#I drew this comic some time ago and not exactly sure how well it holds up butttttt i think i like it enough

[de-righty]

Go and play Deceive inc i beg of you

[miiishra]

Let me tell you about The Brothers’ War. 

My husband and I got into Magic the Gathering during the release of The War of the Spark because we found a friend group who was extremely into Commander. Every Friday night, we would hold our own little kitchen table FNM, order pizza, our kids playing together in the next room, rotating who hosts. It was an incredible time (due to being military, however, it was short-lived because COVID happened and then we all moved away from each other). 

We both knew a little bit about Magic already, and had dabbled in it years beforehand. I always loved the art of this game, and it is what really drew me in. 

But it was War of the Spark that made me realize there was a story being told here. Even though I knew nothing of the lore, the cards were enough for me to piece a story together. I had a general idea of what was going on in these decks, and that fascinated me. 

Fast forward to the Brothers’ War.

Although marketing says the set didn’t do so well (and I believe it, the mechanics are a bit on the weak side), this still ended up being my favorite set because of how these cards told a story. The emotions that came over me made each pull an experience even with the most common card. 

Heck, even my blog is titled Mishra Did Nothing Wrong lol. 

It was this set that made me hunt down the original novel. I read it in two days. And then going back and seeing the story in the cards in a broader context knocked me out of my seat. 

All decks I build tell a story. And I imagine it is the same for even the most devoted Spike, whether they realize it or not. We choose a theme and then we tell a story with that theme. 

My Rakdos Rowan Kenrith deck tells the story of her fall from grace and her temptation of corruption. Sultai Oko is a reflection of Celtic and Slavic folklore. I have an Esper detective deck that investigates strange hauntings and Lovecraftian horrors. I enjoy creating decks that my opponents will find exciting to play against. That to me is the core of what makes Magic the Gathering. 

My point is that, even if players aren’t a Vorthos, we tell stories with our decks. Our own stories that we create in the Magic IP, with the occasional summoning of a Planeswalker to help out. 

I think that’s where this sense of loss is coming from in the Magic fanbase. The addition of other IPs creates noise that interferes with our own storytelling. 

I can explain how Mabel and friends accidentally ended up in the wrong side of New Capenna. 

I can’t explain how Gandalf and Spiderman ended up tag-teaming against Nico Bolas. 

Whenever we hear the justification for UB, it’s usually “Well, that’s how this certain person got into Magic” and… that actually doesn’t feel good. Magic the Gathering on its own couldn’t draw new players? You have to fish them using other IPs as bait? If I were a character and lore designer, I would actually be pretty damn hurt by that. As a player, I am pretty damn hurt by that. 

You said that the company was focusing a lot more on the lore. Great. The Netflix series is still on the table. Excellent. So why not push on that even more? Why not create novels again? The Brothers’ War and the Wildered Quest and all those other novels written so long ago (some of them at least) are still very beloved to this day. Spend the resources to expand on these worlds. Comic books. Toys. Clothes. Etc. Sure, we have those things, but those things are very lacking compared to what other IPs have. We don’t even get to see Magic crossed over the other way around: no skins in Fortnight or WoW pets or any other mainstream medium. 

But instead, we are feeling the push of UB. It’s not about players anymore. We all know it’s not. Wizards of the Coast is doing exactly what video games are doing now: trying to appeal to everyone for a quick cashgrab. And where is all this money going? Certainly not to the quality of the cards, that’s for sure. Certainly not to your QA given all the constant mistakes that are printed. Certainly not to reprint the most powerful UB cards as in-universe versions. Certainly not to make UB its own format or special set or whatever. 

Here is something that bothers me and it’s bothered me a while. 

You say the market says that only 7% of players don’t like UB. 

I believe this is a misleading statement. Because most players DO like UB. In general. 

Players don’t like UB when it starts taking over the identity of Magic.  

Do you see the significant difference in this phrasing? Because I certainly do. And I guarantee that the answer would be much, much higher than 7%.

I’ve always felt the core role of this blog has been one of information. We make a lot of choices in design, and I try to use my various communications, including Blogatog, to walk the players through what we were thinking when we made key decisions.

The challenge with this approach is that it’s very logic-focused. It uses intellectual justifications to explain actions. But the problems I’m often responding to are emotional in origin. I have a good friend who’s a psychologist. He refers to this (using the words of author Robyn Gobbel) as an owl brain solution to a watchdog brain problem.

When someone is hurting, hearing about why the thing that is causing them pain is the result of intellectual decisions falls flat. That’s what has been causing some tension lately here on Blogatog.

It’s clear that for some Question Marks changes over the last few years represent the loss of something key to what makes Magic special to them. To them, the game is losing its heart.

While I can’t necessarily do anything about that, I want to better understand what you’re going through. So I’m using this post to ask players who are concerned with the recent changes to help me understand their feelings. Let me hear your stories about how your lives have been affected by these changes.

[sassyhobbits]

rowaelin with their first child and they get into that stranger anxiety phase and cry with everyone except when they're in their mothers arms and it's exhausting but also adorable but rowan sometimes feels like a bad dad because his kid doesn't want to be held by him so aelin has to reassure him and then some day this phase is finally over - prompt 😢🥺

ok i adored writing this one. dad rowan is so much fun to work with. i hope everyone enjoys!!

~~~

In his over 300 years, Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius had been awoken by many different things. Whether it was a call to battle while sleeping in a war tent, a summons from his queen late at night, or a lover trying unsuccessfully to disappear quietly before dawn. Yet, none of these manners of waking up had filled him with as much dread as he felt currently.

He was woken in the middle of the night by a shrill shriek coming from the room that adjoined the one he shared with Aelin. In the recent months, what had once been a leisure room had been converted to a nursery for their new baby girl.

It took three years after Aelin’s coronation before they decided to start trying to have a child. It took another year before they were successful. Rowan counted his blessings. He had seen plenty of Fae couples take decades before they finally conceived.

Eliora was four months old now, which meant four months of troubled sleep for both him and his mate.

Rowan was instantly on alert at the sound of his daughter’s cries. He knew that they were no more than a normal babe’s troubles, but his instincts made him tense anyways. He quickly sat up, looking down at his wife quickly to see if she had woken up. Luckily, she still slept, likely beyond exhausted from the mix of raising a child and ruling a kingdom. If Rowan was successful, she wouldn’t have to wake up at all.

He got out of bed and swiftly stepped into the nursery, coming before Eliora’s crib. Her tiny face was pinched up in dainty outrage, small limbs flailing as she cried. Rowan took a deep breath, sending a prayer up to the gods more out of habit than faith at this point, and picked his daughter from the crib. Hopefully, this would be the time he could get her to stop crying.

The little princess shrieked and protested whenever she was in anyone’s arms besides her mother’s. Rowan’s included.

“I’ve got you, my little light,” Rowan whispered to his daughter, cradling her tiny body to his bare chest and lowering himself onto the rocking chair they kept beside her crib. “Everything’s alright.”

Despite his soothing words, Eliora still continued to cry. It broke Rowan’s heart to hear, broke it even more to know that nothing he did could seem to calm her down.

“Please stop crying, love,” Rowan pleaded, threading his fingers through the fine, silvery-blonde hair growing on his daughter’s head. “Your mother is so tired and needs her sleep.”

Unfortunately, even begging didn’t seem to work.

Over the sounds of Eliora’s cries, he heard the door hinges creek, and the sound of bare feet scuffing over stone. Rowan glanced over, finding Aelin walking towards him. Exhaustion weighed down her beautiful face, but her eyes were still full of fondness at the sight of the two of them.

Rowan looked to her apologetically before his face crumpled in defeat. “I can’t get her to stop crying. I’m so sorry, Fireheart.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, love,” she whispered, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his hair. “Give her to me.”

Rowan handed the squirming bundle of blankets to his wife. Aelin situated their daughter in her arms before she lowered herself on Rowan’s lap, allowing him to wrap his arms around her waist, press a kiss to her shoulder, and begin to rock them.

Quickly, Eliora’s cries began to fade away. Her face unscrewed, looking at Aelin with those wide, Ashryver eyes that she had.

Aelin began to sing a low, Terrasenian lullaby as he continued to rock the three of them. It never ceased to amaze him how good she was with their daughter, how quickly she was able to sooth her temper. He only wished that he could do the same, that Eliora would look at him the same way she looked at Aelin and not scream and scream and scream.

Rowan’s heart was full of love as he watched Eliora’s eyes begin to droop shut at the soothing rocking motion and the sound of her mother’s voice. It wasn’t long before she was once again asleep, the night perfectly silent.

Rowan helped Aelin stand, keeping a hand against her back as she brought their daughter back to her crib and laid her down. Perfect. She truly was perfect.

A gentle hand on his arm drew his attention away from the slumbering babe. Aelin nodded her head towards their room and Rowan dutifully followed, shutting the door quietly behind them.

“I’m sorry, Fireheart,” Rowan said again, drawing Aelin into his arms and kissing her forehead. “I know you’re exhausted.”

“No more so than you.”

Rowan could only sigh, pressing his lips together tightly. His emotions were troubled, and he should have known that Aelin was going to notice. She leaned back slightly, peering up at his face.

“I know what you’re thinking, Rowan, and you’re wrong,” she said matter-of-factly.

Rowan wanted to believe her, but he couldn’t help but ask, “What am I doing wrong?”

He had faced many challenges over his years. Wars and battles and tortures. He had survived them all and came out victorious. And yet, the thing that brought him to his knees, was the fact that he couldn’t bring comfort to his own daughter when she needed it. A baby had finally defeated him.

“You know you’re not doing anything wrong,” Aelin said firmly. “The nurses said this happens sometimes. It’s not your fault.”

Rowan had heard this what felt like a thousand times. It did little to soothe his troubles.

Rowan was good at many things. He was a warrior and a general, had stepped confidently into the role of king consort. His hands could kill and heal and build, but they couldn’t get Eliora to stop crying. He couldn’t help but feel that, perhaps, being a father… wasn’t something that he was made for.

It broke his heart to think. He remembered how excited he was when they found out Aelin was finally pregnant, how they cried and kissed and clung to each other, whispering about the future. He had been ecstatic, but also terrified. He knew Aedion, who had welcomed his own son into the world a year before Aelin got pregnant, had felt the same before he was born. But, Aedion hadn’t had the troubles Rowan did. He had stepped into fatherhood gracefully, and his son loved him immensely.

“Hey,” Aelin said, a bit snappily. She put her hand on Rowan’s cheek and urged him to look at her. In those eyes was a familiar fire. “Stop that. I know what’s going through your head. You’re a wonderful father.”

Rowan sighed and hung his head, pressing Aelin’s hand more firmly against his cheek. “How can I be a good father if I have no idea what I’m doing?”

“Do you think I’m a bad mother?”

“What? Of course not.”

“Well, I don’t know what I’m doing either,” Aelin said. “Neither did Aedion or Lysandra. No new parent has any idea what they’re doing. It’s part of the job.”

She made it sound so easy. Aelin had always had a knack for that.

“I wonder if there’s some secret behind it,” Rowan mused as Aelin tucked herself back into his chest and wrapped her arms around his torso.

He felt his wife shrug. “I don’t know… but if there was, I think it would be to love them. To support them. To do everything in our power to make sure they’re happy.”

“I love Eliora more than life. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”

“I know, love.” Aelin rolled on the tips of her toes and brushed a soft kiss against Rowan’s mouth. “Now, all you need to do is have patience.”

He chuckled. “Look at you. Who would have ever guessed that Aelin Galathynius would be lecturing me on patience.”

Her grin was a slash of white in the dark. “I’ve been told I’m wise beyond my years.”

“Who the hell has ever told you that?”

“People. Now, will you come back to bed with me?”

“Of course, Fireheart.”

They climbed back under the covers, pressing their bodies close. Aelin fell back asleep almost comically quickly. Rowan wasn’t far behind, holding his wife tightly throughout the night.

…

Another month went by and little changed. Both Rowan and his wife were getting little sleep during the night, leading to some groggy mornings. He had seen Aelin taking short naps at her desk or dozing off when an advisor spoke for too long. She would, of course, deny it if Rowan ever brought it up, so he wisely stayed silent.

Eliora still abhorred being held by anyone except Aelin. The fact that it wasn’t just him brought Rowan a bit of solace. His daughter cried when held by Lysandra or Fenrys or Elide. She had a particularly nasty meltdown last time Lorcan had held her.

“I know, sweet girl,” Aelin had murmured, taking Eliora from Lorcan. “I wouldn’t want to be that close to him either.”

Still, Eliora’s reactions didn’t deter Rowan from trying to hold and soothe her, though he had not yet been victorious. Patience, Aelin had said. It was easier said than done.

The sun had set below the Staghorns hours ago. Eliora was asleep in the nursery, Aelin was treating herself to a long soak in the tub, and Rowan sat in one of the plush armchairs they kept in their room, sharpening and polishing some of his blades.

It was an easy practice to get lost in. The simple, repetitive movements were a welcome distraction. A good way to cool down before bed.

However, his hands froze when he heard a tiny whimper sound from the nursery that quickly morphed into a shrill cry. Eliora.

Rowan placed his blades down on the low table before him, pushing to his feet and quickly striding into the nursery.

Eliora was wiggling as she wailed. Rowan wished he could read her mind so he knew exactly what was bothering her and how he could help. But, all he could do was take a deep, bracing breath and scoop his daughter into his arms.

“What’s wrong, little light?” Rowan whispered, carrying her over to the rocking chair. “What is it?”

Eliora’s only response was to continue crying.

Rowan sighed, wondering how much longer he had before Aelin got out of the bath and came in to calm Eliora down. He had seen Aelin do it countless times. She would take Eliora into her arms, smile down at her, start to whisper nonsense or sing a low lullaby. She made it seem so easy.

“Everything’s alright, Eliora,” Rowan murmured, switching to the Old Language. “I’ve got you. I’ll never let anything happen to you, little love.”

And then, something amazing happened.

Slowly, Eliora’s cries began to fade away to a whimper and then, to nothing at all. Rowan held his breath, worrying that one wrong move would put her back into a fit of hysterics. His daughter slowly opened her eyes and peered up at him.

Rowan smiled down at her. “You’re just as lovely as your mother. Just as stubborn, too.”

And then, as if she understood his little joke, Eliora flashed him a gummy smile. The shift in expression floored him. She had never given him a smile before.

Rowan felt his throat tighten and his eyes begin to burn, but he smiled back at the tears welled up. A tiny laugh escaped his throat. Finally, finally, he had done it.

Eliora’s chubby arms reached up. Rowan held out a finger, letting her wrap a tiny hand around it. He always forgot just how small she was.

“I love you more than you could possibly know, Eliora.”

He was too distracted by his daughter and the little grip she had on his finger to notice that Aelin had entered the nursery until she was almost upon them. Rowan looked up at his wife, knowing that his eyes were still watery and there were likely tear tracks streaking down his cheeks. Regardless, he beamed.

“It would seem, once again, that I was right,” Aelin said with a triumphant smirk.

“As you often are, my love.”

She laughed and dropped a kiss to his forehead before draping her arms over his shoulders, leaning over and watching their daughter, who was studying them with wide eyes. Once again, Eliora smiled. Rowan would never tire of the sight.

“She looks like you when she smiles,” Aelin mused.

“You think?”

She nodded slowly, reaching out and running her knuckles along the smooth curve of Eliora’s cheek. “I still can’t believe she’s ours. She’s just so… perfect.”

“Like her mother.”

Aelin snorted. “Kiss ass.”

“Maybe a little.”

They faded into silence, simply standing there, wrapped up in their little, blossoming family. They stood there until Eliora’s eyes fluttered shut once more and she drifted off into a peaceful sleep. One she enjoyed for the entirety of the night.

Rowan didn’t know what he had done to deserve such bliss, but he knew it must have been something good.

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding XXIII

Part I - - - - - - - - - Part XX - - - - Part XXI - - - - Part XXII

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

The office was quiet but for the occasional shuffling of flimsi and tapping of datapads.

Bail Organa and Mon Mothma pointedly did not exchange a glance behind Padme’s back.

Senator Mothma set down her pad and broke the silence. “Padme...are you alright?” she asked softly.

“I’m fine Mon, let’s just go over the bill,” Padme responded stiffly.

Mothma hesitated. “That’s not the only reason I asked you here, Padme.”

Padme stood, chair scraping gratingly. “I see; I’ve already had the Chancellor pry me today in an attempt to exploit my ‘connections’ to the Jedi—as though they’re droids and not flesh-and-blood people who any average person could strike a friendship with—but I had thought better of you two; I suppose my faith was—”

“That’s not what I meant—” Mon pleaded.

“We’re concerned about you,” Bail insisted gently. “You don’t have to tell us anything about the Jedi that you don’t feel comfortable doing so.”

Padme paused, then reluctantly sat back down.

“My apologies,” she muttured. “It’s been...a long day. I’ve been asked by the Chancellor for help in breaking some news that...I’d rather not.”

The senators waited patiently for Padme to collect her thoughts. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “General Kenobi has suffered from...force...I really don’t think there’s a way of saying this that doesn’t sound bad.”

“I had heard rumors that he was missing at meetings the last few days...has something serious happened?” Bail asked, concerned.

Padme shuddered. “This office is...”

“It’s clean,” Mothma confirmed quietly. “I have it checked independently anytime I’m gone for more then 15 minutes, with random deep-scans.”

“Would you mind...”

Mon nodded and the three waited in silence until the Chandurllian senator’s pad trilled the all-clear.

“Master Kenobi tried to kill himself earlier this week,” Padme confessed lowly. Mon straightened up in a sudden locking of knees and elbows, face drawn into tight lines. Bail’s hands flew to his mouth, tears forming.

“Knight Skywalker got to him in time, and he was in a coma until this morning when he apparently ‘ranted about ending the one’s responsible for the war’ and then vanished, along with Anakin.”

Mon grew very pale and Bail moved both hands from his mouth to his eyes.

“Fuck,” he said softly. “Just...fuck.”

Padme nodded in agreement and Mon inhaled deeply.

Bail rubbed way tears and straightened up resolutely. “How can we help?” he asked Padme. “How does the Chancellor want to handle releasing the news?”

She smiled weakly. “He’s leaving the exact wording up to me, but wants to make the announcement during the next full Senate gathering.”

“What!” Mon half-shouted, shocked. “There’ll be a riot! Surely a bulletin—even a press conference would be better for encouraging a moderate reaction—people will be shouting before he’s through the first sentence!”

“I know,” Padme agreed with a grimace. “But he wants ‘transparency.’“

“He wants panic,” Bail fumed.

“I’m trying to decide if it would better or worse to include the part about suicide,” Padme said bitterly. “Mental health breakdown and disappearance of the Republic’s highest General doesn’t leave much room for confidence or privacy.”

Mon clutched Padme’s hand in support. “I’ll have a PR team on standby. We can prepare resources for anyone who has questions, avoid conspiracy theories from spinning out. I already had a project on the backburner to put together own set of holoclips of the Jedi working towards peace—a counter to the ‘warmongering’ narrative, so to speak. It should be easy enough to adapt.”

“The Chancellor’s going to turn this into another military spending bill,” Bail predicted grimly. “We’ll make sure there’s a proviso in there to provide actual support for the Jedi in the field; I’ll make sure to get a legal team on viper in the grass duty as soon as the responses start coming out.”

“Thank you,” Padme said, gripping Mon’s hand over-tightly in return. She turned to the Alderannian senator. “I’m sorry Bail, I know you two are close.”

Bail exhaled slowly. “This war...I’ve seen Obi-Wan survive so much, and everytime he pulls off the impossible...”

“He’s rewarded with another burden on his shoulders,” Padme finished sympathetically. “Yes, I’ve been watching the same thing happen to Anakin. It’s—if the separatist movement hadn’t resolved into such a democratic and humanitarian nightmare—”

“You should go home and get some rest, Padme,” Mon urged. “It’s late, and the we’re all going to need to be sharp tomorrow. Who knows, maybe some new information will materialize before the afternoon.”

“Why Mon, that’s almost optimistic of you,” Bail remarked dryly.

Mon flashed him a wry grin, looking at Padme out of the corner of her eye. “Well. She did say Anakin with AWOL—”

“Oh do be quiet,” Padme huffed.

Despite the ever growing desire for sleep, it was another long hour before the Senator from Naboo departed. The pair were just turning to their seats after escorting Padme out when Bail let out a startled yelp; Mon instinctively kicked at the sudden small green blur.

Fortunately, when you’re green and the height of most humanoid’s knees, you become quite experienced at avoiding such reflexive 

“Master Yoda! What are you doing here? How did you even get in?” Senator Mothma staggered backwards, reverting to defensiveness to cover up her embarrassment at attempting to punt the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order.

“Has his ways, a Jedi does,” Yoda replied mysteriously. Mon Mothma nodded seriously as Bail restrained himself from rolling his eyes. He had spent far too much time around Obi-Wan for deliberate Jedi vagueness to hold much weight. 

“Can I—May I offer you a seat?” Mon asked, quickly recovering her diplomatic grace. “I’m afraid that you’ve just missed Senator Amidala, but I’m sure she would be eager to return; I understand she’s...concerned for Master Kenobi.”

The wizened Master shook his head, ears flopping as he hopped onto Padme’s recently vacated chair, standing on the cusioned seat as the two senators’ settled down. The sight should, perhaps, have been comical. But the weight of his gaze...Bail held his breath. Perhaps Jedi mystique did still have some affect on him.

“Come to speak with the two of you, I did. Missed Mistress Amidala, I have, I know. Deliberate, this was.”

Mon and Bail frowned, exchanging a slow look of pointed disapproval. Bail spoke hesitantly but with touch of reproach. “I’m certain she would prefer to be here, regardless of the news—Padme has suffered for her public defense of the Jedi, I should hope that that friendship is returned, especially in hard times”

Yoda’s ears drooped. “A great Jedi, she would have made, in another life. Vibrant, she is in the Force. Loud to a Jedi, regardless of sensitivity. But needed now, quiet is.” 

Yoda’s gaze pierced Bail and he warmed inexplicably. “Quiet the two of you are. Brilliant, wide but in the Force...” Yoda broke the gaze, growing contemplative.

“Unique in the force, each soul is. That can be read, rare is the mind. More difficult to discern, currents, intentions, manner, it is with some, it is with you. And now, Quiet we need.”

The two settled back, uneasily flattered. “Master Yoda—it’s an honor of course, to be considered an individual worthy of confidence, but why exactly do you have need of quiet minds? Of us?” Senator Mothma asked finally.

The diminutive Master sagged. “By actions you would do, trust you have earned. But always in motion, the future is. A heavy burden, to carry, I must ask you. Without cause, I would not ask. But once tell you this I do—” 

To the politicians shock Master Yoda’s simmed to glisten with unshed tears. “—Guarantee your safety I cannot.”

The air hung warm and heavy for a timeless moment and a chill ran up both their spines. But neither were individuals particularly given to indesicion in the face of looming danger. 

“How can we help?” Mon asked, the words echoing over far more than an hour. 

“We know something is wrong with Obi-Wan,” Bail added softly. “Whatever we can do to right it—Obi-Wan is a friend, the Jedi are our allies, and the Republic is our duty.”

Mon nodded firmly.

Yoda stared at them each in turn, eyes searching and ancient.

“Working with the Separatists, the Chancellor is,” he said bluntly. “Evidence of this, we have, but not proof. Controlling, the Separatists, the Chancellor is. Evidence of this we have also, but not proof. The truth it is.”

“Evidence?” Bail parroted hoarsely, mentally assembling his own grim circumstantial coronation even as his understanding of the conversation’s direction fell apart.

The Jedi Master drew two small glittering objects from his pocket—a datachip and a microslide. 

“In the brain of a trooper, this we found.” he said gravely. “In the brain of all clones, this lies. Orders, it contains. Evil, is it. Free will, it can control. Decode it we have. To the Chancellor, tied these orders are.”

“Force,” Mon murmured in horror, responding automatically. “He already controls the public, and the courts—”

“And over half the senate,” Bail added bitterly.

“A Sith, he is,” Yoda continued with a sigh. “A Sith he has always been. A return to an Empire, he aims.”

There was a long heady pause as the two grappled with the return of the ancient boogeyman of the Republic and the repeated derailing of their night’s direction. 

“Fuck,” Senator Mothma said delicately, thinking wistfully of two hours ago when she had planned on confronting Padme yet again on her relationship with a young Jedi.

“Said the same, did we.”

The Alderannian Senator rubbed his temples, trying to come to terms with consecutive massive shocks from the already unexpected conversation. “Is Obi-Wan alright?” he asked eventually.

The small Elder hummed thoughtfully in reply. Bail tensed.

“No and yes. Suffer much, he has. Broken he is, but not shattered. A plan he has. His idea to include you, it is. The bravest man in the galaxy, he called you.” Yoda said, offering Senator Organa a sad smile.

Bail leaned back, stunned. “Me? But—why me?” he asked bewildered.

“Know not, I do,” the Jedi said with a shrug. “Seen the future, he has. A future where saved his life, you did. Saved my life. Saved something too precious to name, you did. Matters little, it does. A future that must not come to pass, it is, even as learn from it. we do.”

“...I think you’re going to have to explain that somewhat,” Mon replied sternly as Bail’s head spun.

Yoda nodded and the three settled in for a sleepless night of planning treason.

Part XXIV

[corysmiles]

Sup! I'm back from Barcelona! Hope you're doing well!

Remember that sbi rust prompt you gave me a month or 2 ago? It is done (not readproff tho so there may be some mistakes) anyway enjoy my grand return!

Edit: did you know 250 paragraphs is the limit lenght to an ask? On an unrelated note I will have to cut this into multiple parts so enjoy this first chapter!

-----

"Whaaat the-"

Wilbur took a step back, mouth agape and watched the figure inside of the dome. A human, identical in the looks, if not for the size of it.

When he went to explore the looming monument that rose from near his house, he expected food or scientific papers, perhaps some gas masks and equipment, not a... giant.

Weren't those things a myth?? Just a silly fictional creature to scare children away, not... not real and THERE, sleeping right in front of him??

The thing was curled up on himself, unable to fit in the 30ft wide sphere if going to its full lenght.

Wilbur was trapped in the walls of flesh.

And to his dismay, he was just in time to witness the creature wake up.

Lazily, they opened their eyes, squinting. They looked at their surroundings, the roof, the walls, the floor.

And the man was able to pinpoint the exact moment their eyes landed on him.

They gasped softly, almost mute. Their eyes widened, and they stood here, studying the punny intrudor for a too long moment. Only after, they spoke, barely above a whisper.

"Uhm... hello."

Wilbur expected the giant to speak, seeing how akin to a human he was, but he didn't expect such a young voice to be held by the.... boy?

"Hey." Wilbur waved, hand as shaking and hesitant as his voice.

"... What's your name?" They spoke.

Wilbur gulped, more on instinct. "Uuh, Wilbur. Who are you? What are you doing here?" He pointed.

They nodded in a hum before looking at the floor below, eyes a bit blurry.

"I...my name is Tommy. And uh... this is where I sleep."

The stare the human kept on the boy was intense, full of disbelief and curiosity. It was uncomfortable.

He shifted a bit. And Wilbur's eyes darted towards the small movements. Ah, right. Humans were hyperaware.

"It's been a while since I met someone around here."

"Yeah, I can imagine that... ever since the nuclear incident, it's been quite the task to find someone." Wilbur explained. What did this being knew exactly?

"Oh... I see." He lowered his head, before letting it rest on the floor, and holy shit he was even bigger than he thought.

He swallowed the lump back down his throat, and sat legs crossed.

The giant, which looked like a teenager now that he got to see his face up close, kept looking at him, expression almost bored.

Then, without much a warning, he lifted his hand and moved it towards the human, who instantly scrumbled away as fast as he could.

"wowowwoowowo- what-"

The hand froze, and when he looked at Tommy, the expression was sad, almost hurt.

Silence filled the room for a minute.

"Sorry" the giant apologized. "I must be quite scary, huh?"

Without much thinking, wilbur nodded. "Um, yeah"

"It's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you." He reassured, his voice pathetic. "Can I come closer?"

Wilbur looked at the hand, then at the teen. He took a deep breath before nodding, earning a pleased smile from the blond.

More careful, a hand thrice his size came to him, fingers slowly wrapping themselves around the human. He tensed, unwilling to move an inch despite his mind begging him to get out of here.

He closed his eyes in anticipation, but after a minute of stillness, he felt a rough pressure on his head, ruffling his hairs.

"Wha- what are you doing?" He asked, refusing to open his eyes yet.

Before he got an answer, the mass, which he recognized as a thumb, moved from playing with the hair to caress his skin as gently as possible.

With much hesitation, the human opened his eyes and met the face of the teen, who beared an expression of pure shock and wonder.

As the thumb rubbed against his cheek, he inhaled, shivered.

"You're so small... so fragile..."

His face was washed with a wave of sadness, while Wilbur drew his hand closer to the gun hidden in his jacket.

"How do you feel, wilbur? Do you feel fragile?" His voice was as sad as unreadable.

And at the moment, Wilbur did feel as powerless as a bug stuck in a web. A tall, wide web. Not that he would tell Tommy.

"... Is that a threat?" He asked instead.

"No, I'm just curious." A sort of melancholy couldn't leave the giant's face. "If I were to threaten someone, it would be because they acted like a bitch. You're not a bitch as far as I know."

The curse took Wilbur off guard, and he found himself giggling at the vocabulary. The blong smiled as well.

Then, the thumb moved from the face and slowly descended to cover his chest (entirely)

And....

It felt... like a hug?

How long has it been since Wilbur has been hugged.

The gesture was confusing.

"... why?" He voiced.

"I don't know. I know people like hugs. Makes them feel safe."

He eyed the fingers around him before focusing, wary, on the face.

"What are you planning to do to me?"

"Huh?!" He raised eyebrow and his hands left Wilbur's surrounding in a too quick motion, gesturing in defense. "Nothing!! I just want you to be comfortable. Been a while since I talked to anyone." Without the giant controling his volume, Wilbur had to cover his ear at the sudden booming sound.

He nodded nontheless, still unsure, and the silence drawn out.

"...why did you want to explore the dome?"

For some reason, the echoing voice was quite soothing to the human's ears, now that it was bearable. He took a few steps and put his hand on the part of the dome not blocked by an enormous mass. His finger carressed the copper walls until he was sat.

"I wanted to explore. I don't live very far, and this structure intrigued me. I expected to find some researches, not.... uh..."

Tommy smiled and understood the man without him having to finish. "Yeah. I'm not really something to be expected."

He nodded. "And you've been here for a while?"

"Not so much." The giant responded, "I usually travel from place to place trying to survive, pretty much like everyone else."

"I see..."

"I can try and look out for any paper or stuff if you want, so next time you come, I can hand them over."

Wilbur paused. The idea of returning to the giant made him frown, but the blond did seem to hold no grudges against him.

".... Maybe." He landed on.

And visibly, the teen was elated at the news, his grin growing to his ear and his hands joining in a clap. (As gentle as he could to not make the small man deaf.)

"Welp." He got up, before he got a sugar overdose from seeing that excitment. "I think I'm gonna head back."

"Do you want me to help you get back home?" The other proposed, enthusiast.

"No."

It was quiet for a moment, silence only disturbed by the giant shifting position. It was... unusual. But the enormous teen didn't seem hostile, and if Wilbur could get himself such an ally, he wouldn't take it down.

And so he returned home.

---

2 days later, he returned.

He was surprised as well, but curiosity guided his steps much more than his fears ever since the giant teen revealed himself a potential ally.

He inhaled deeply before climbing the stairs, his feet landing on the metalic ground.

The smile on the teenager's face when he turned around and met the tiny man was as heartwarming as nervewracking.

"YOU'RE BACK!!!" He cheered, and already the human had to cover his ears, the joyous scream deafening. He realized his mistake pretty soon though as he covered his mouth and mumbled, much quieter "Sorry. Hi Wilbur."

"Hello, Tommy." He replied, cautiously removing his hands from his ear. "How have you been?" He started. Usual politeness shouldn't be too awkward.

It took all the self control of the blond to keep his voice quiet enough when he said "I've been fine, thank you." The energy bubbling from him only made Wilbur chuckle.

"Good, good." Wilbur took a few steps towards the blond (or rather his face, since the teen was kind of all around the room) "You seem happy to see me."

Tommy nodded way too quickly and strongly as he confirmed. "Yep! I-" he pained keeping his voice low "-I wasn't sure if you'd really come back. I'm very very very glad you didn't lie. Especially since I have..... THIS!!"

He didn't even bother whispering as his hand came to view, previously hidden behind his back, and coming towards Wilbur in a fist at a racing pace. The brunette couldn't help but flinch back.

Tommy stopped mid-way, realizing his carelessness once more. He whispered an apology and the hand came, much slower this time. (Almost comically slow, but Wilbur wouldn't really complain)

Then, when only at about 6ft away from the man, the hand opened, revealing several piles of papers.

Wilbur's eyes widened. He looked at the blond, confused.

"You said you wanted to look for researches and stuff, sooo I tried finding some. And you were right! There are papers everywhere in here!"

Wilbur looked at the floor which he now realized was almost white from sheets, as well as the several seemingly blank pages stuck on the giant's body, and nodded, repressing a chuckle.

"Yep. Everywhere."

Tommy held back a laugh as well, and Wilbur tried visualizing how this.... god knows how tall being could try opening drawers with his nails barely thin enough to hold the handler, and reading papers the size of a pins on his hands, all while trying to manœuver his body so he wasn't blocking the rest of the building.

He would lie if he said the thought wasn't amusing.

He went for the paper, and without much thinking hopped onto the hand, since the papers were mostly at the center of his palm.

He grabbed a few and sat down, begining reading when he felt a shaky inhale. He looked up to meet the amused eyes of the blond.

"... Seat's comfortable?" He teased, as playful as baffled.

Wilbur frowned, then looked below him and his eyes widened as he registered. He shot straight up.

"Oh-oh oh I'm so sorry- I- I sincerely apologize I-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence as he covered his ears, a wheezed laugh echoing through the entire thing and sending Wilbur shaking from the vibrations.

He found himself laughing as well, barely able to keep up his balance as he stepped out of the hand, a good chunk of paper held between his chest and arms.

The laughs finally died down, the blond disforming his face with his hand trying hard to muffle the sounds. He looked back at the human with what could only be described as adoration. The hand left his face and he chuckled still as he talked.

"Ahh, don't worry about it. I expected you to just take the papers and go, but this? This was funny. Definitely the first time someone sits on my hand like that."

"I-... is it a bad thing?" Wilbur asked, taking slow steps backward while he kept a smile. The last thing he wanted was to upset a giant he was trapped with. Sure, the kid was nice, even though overwhelming, but a wrong gesture could change that first part pretty quickly.

"Nah, I don't mind. If the floor is too cold for your liking, you can sit here."

Wilbur sighed in relief and gave the blond a smile. "Alright. Thanks."

He still chose to sat on the floor, and started reading again. His intuition was right, there was tons of information in here.

He read in silence, only disturbed every once in a while when Tommy asked what was in the sheets. Wilbur explained as easily as possible and kept the details for himself. Tommy was satisfied with the answer he was given, though, so that wasn't a problem.

He was only a quarter through the first pile of paper when he felt something approaching. He froze when a mass, probably a finger, found itself on top of Wilbur's head.

There was a beat of silence when neither moved, and the finger ruffled ever so slightly his hair.

It was a bit awkward, but it wasn't uncomfortable, so he didn't protest.

A soft voice pierced through the silence.

"If I press on your head too hard or hurt you, warn me. You're small so I don't know how much pressure I can apply on you."

"Alright." Wilbur nodded. "You're doing fine right now, I'll tell you if that changes."

The rest of the reading was done with Tommy gently playing with Wilbur's hair or tapping his back in an attempt at a 'massage' (as Tommy called it). It was distracting, but not uncomfortable. At times, even soothing.

It was almost night when Wilbur read most of the first pile. He got up with the paper he read already and looked for an empty drawer.

Fortunately, since Tommy spent 2 days scrambling to get every possible paper out, it wasn't much of a challenge. Below Tommy's angled leg was a furniture. He went and deposited it.

"That should be good." He said as he closed it. He then turned around to meet the blond. "Well, I think it's time for me to go home. I'll be back soon though, this place is VERY interesting."

He forced himself not to fake a gag at Tommy's smile. Urg. So genuine.

"Yeaaayyy" the giant stage-whispered while clapping his hands as softly and quickly as possible. "It's nice having you around. Can I do anything to help you?"

Wilbur brought a hand to his chin and thought for a moment. "If you find an empty book, you can give it to me next time. I'll bring one myself though so you don't have to tear this place upside down to find one." That made Tommy chuckle.

And so, Wilbur returned home once more.

THIS IS SO GOOD MEL OMG!!!

Pls read this it’s amazing and so well done, I love the rust server and this is so good :D

[hugespace]

Prompt: van, thunderstorm, link is scared and rhett is there for him and gives him hugs and kisses

Thanks love 😘

There you go! 🥰 I ended up writing some high school Rhink - lots of fluff with a dash of angst. Hope you’ll enjoy it!

*** (~2k words) ***

"How the crap did you miss that, Rhett?!" Link rapidly turned his whole body in the passenger seat, making his bleached blonde locks flap around on the top of his head. "How are we even out of gas-? Didn't you just say, like yesterday, that you'd fill it up?!" he threw his hands in the air, staring with disbelief at his friend who sat quietly behind the wheel.

Rhett muttered something in response, his head downturned and eyes focused on his own lap.

"Rhett!" Link exclaimed impatiently, not having gotten a clear answer out of the other boy.

"I thought we'd make it, okay?! I was gonna buy gas with some of the money we'd get after the gig!" Rhett repeated his explanation in a raised voice this time, finally looking his friend in the eyes and shrugging in the process.

Link only returned the look with wide eyes.

"Are you serious-? You're so irresponsible!" he answered even louder after a few short seconds of processing Rhett's words. "You're telling me you wanted to buy gas with the money we won't even get now because we won't get to the damn concert- because. You didn't. Get. Gas. In the first place?!" Link continued thought clenched teeth. "What the crap, Rhett?!"

The taller boy felt his face grow warm. Sure, perhaps Link was right, it wasn't the smartest decision of his life, or even of just that day, probably – electing to risk not reaching their destination in a borrowed van full of equipment for the two of them and the other members of Wax Paper Dogz just to be able to spend the last of his cash for the week on snacks. But he certainly wasn't going to give the other boy that, or the full reason for getting them stranded in the middle of a road on the way to the farm they were supposed to play at, for that matter. Truth was, Rhett didn't do well with criticism. Not even when it was earned.

He opened his mouth and got ready to match Link's tone, when a powerful crash of thunder resounded directly above them all of a sudden, immediately preventing the shouting match that was surely about to ensue.

"What was that-?" When Link's voice reverberated to Rhett's right again, it was remarkably smaller and less filled with anger than just seconds ago.

"Shit" was the only response the older boy could muster as the sky opened up, letting thick and heavy drops of rain fall onto the world around them, drumming angrily against the van's roof.

"At least we don't gotta worry about the gig-?" Rhett tried for a reassuring smile after a few beats of silence between them ticked by, interrupted only by blaring sounds of the summer storm they’d apparently gotten caught in. "It ain't gonna happen now with that rain-" he conceded, hoping it won't anger Link any further.

The younger boy was silent, the unexpected arrival of thunder seemed to have not only taken away his temper, but his voice as well.

"Link?"

A pair of blue eyes, still wide open, met Rhett's. The fire that burned in them just moments before the first loud crash fizzled out completely, giving way to a cold shade of fear, and the face they belonged to quickly became visibly paler, taking on a greyish colour only intensified by the sudden lack of sunlight.

"I don't like this-" Link whispered, clutching the edges of his seat with such force that his knuckles soon matched the paleness of his face.

Now, Link didn't exactly suffer from a deadly fear of thunder, not to Rhett's knowledge at least, which after more than a decade of being best friends meant it could as well be equalled to a fact. On the other hand, he wasn't especially keen on those either, and the aspect of being trapped in a metal can in the middle of a country road with absolutely nowhere to go to seek refuge only added another dimension to that.

Instinctively, Rhett reached out a hand and rubbed the other boy's shoulder soothingly.

"Hey- Hey, look at me. Link-?" he leaned forward trying to catch his friend’s eyes again and grasp his attention, temporarily directed towards the sky where bright flashes of lightning cut through the dark graphite clouds one after another. "Hey"

Link finally directed his attention back to Rhett, gulping loudly, almost comically, if it weren't for the entire situation. "We're gonna be fine. The car's safe, we're better off here than anywhere outside probably, just don’t touch the doors. We'll wait till the rain passes a bit and then I'll go get us gas, okay? The station's not that far. We'll be good." Rhett added in a calm voice, still keeping his right hand on Link and gently rubbing his upper back.

"Okay" the boy replied, still in a weak voice, and drew in a deep breath, only to be startled by another instance of rumbling thunder and hastily clasp Rhett's other hand.

"Sorry..." he cleared his throat and tried to compose himself once the sound of thunderclap died down, leaving them only with the deafening banging of raindrops against the van. Link went to retract his hand but was stopped by Rhett's before the taller boy could think about it.

"Ssh, don't. S’okay, brother."

The split-second decision to comfort Link and hold him like he hasn't since they were kids came from the feeling of guilt for getting them in that situation in the first place, he told himself. And sure, he did feel responsible for making Link endure the storm in a car stuck in the middle of nowhere all because of his stupid idea. But it wasn't just guilt; the vulnerable look on his friend's pale face combined with the fear in his big glassy eyes made him look like the boy he was when they were still in grade school - small and innocent, and it tugged at Rhett's heart in a way he didn't fully comprehend, awakening an instinct to protect Link no matter what.

"Do you... Maybe we'd- Should we...?" Yes, Rhett did make a decision but was suddenly struggling to articulate it. The scared boy next to him wasn't really listening anyway, his whole attention focused on the sky again and his free hand grasping Rhett's sleeve and trembling. Rhett cleared his throat and tried again. "We should move to the back."

"Whaa...?" Link started but was cut off by his friend gently removing his fingers from the fabric of his shirt and swiftly moving to the row of seats behind them.

"C'mon. It's gonna be more comfortable. The stick's poking my leg when I lean over like that." the older boy offered from the expanse of the middle row, gesticulating to the gap between Link and the now empty driver's seat.

If Link was hesitant to join him, another growl of thunder must have been enough to persuade him because suddenly, he was clambering to join Rhett, inadvertently nudging his thighs and elbowing him in the process.

"Auch! Okay, okay- Com'ere" The older boy grabbed the other's shoulders once he was situated next to him and moved his body even closer, encircling it with his long lanky arms and squeezing hard, making Link's head fall onto his chest.

To his surprise, his best friend didn't protest, he only burrowed his face deeper in the front or Rhett's bunched up flannel and breathed in deeply, obviously trying to relax.

"Good, good" Rhett praised absent-mindedly and slowly stroked Link's smooth hair, temporarily stunned by the feeling of warmth and peace holding the other boy so close gave him. After a couple of minutes of stillness, he felt Link's arms move, too, and wriggle in between the backrest of the seat and Rhett's lower back, finally hugging him back around the waist. It made the taller boy instinctively seek even more contact, and he lowered his head, positioning his face on Link's hair and eventually, before he could rethink it, leaving a kiss on top of it

Link froze and tensed up again, though this time there was no crash of thunder or flash of lightning to blame it on.

Oh no. Rhett's action caught up to him. This was weird. He was being weird. They never kissed each other, not even like that, not even when they were kids. His heart sped up from embarrassment and he was sure his friend could feel it, with the way he was still clinging to his chest. But he wasn’t letting go- In fact, he seemed to hug Rhett even tighter now, nuzzling his face into his body, left cheek smushed against his sternum.

Shyly, Rhett risked another smooch to Link's head, this time as close to his forehead as he could reach in the position they were in.

In response, the boy let out what sounded like an appreciative hum, or maybe even a tiny whimper, and a warm breath against Rhett’s skin, making his heart pick up the pace again. Continuing the pattern of acting before we could talk himself out of it, Rhett gathered his friend and tried to pull him even closer, not even sure if it was possible at that point, and was rewarded with Link landing almost entirely in his lap.

The face of his best friend was now nearly level with his. It was blushed, he realised, the earlier sickly tone of his complexion gone almost completely. His hair, equally blonde as Rhett's though significantly longer, was dishevelled. The sight was endearing, there was no other word to describe it, and the look in Link's eyes, blue as ever and soft now – not as filled with fear anymore, only made the effect it had on Rhett more intense.

Blinded by the affection that flooded him all of a sudden, he leaned in again, now able to kiss Link's forehead, and left another peck there, keeping his lips pressed to it for a bit longer. Before Rhett could really get used to the new sensation, Link straightened his back, making himself taller in Rhett's lap and as a result, bringing his own lips to the same hight his friend mouth was at.

The taller boy flinched slightly and almost recoiled on instinct, seeing how there were no more than two inches of tense air filled with petrichor separating their faces, and nothing else.

Almost.

Instead, he gathered all of his courage and closed that gap, planting his lips square on Link's.

They were incredibly soft, almost cushiony, and oh so warm. And they were moving against his! He realised, stunned, as the other boy's hand reached up to his face and gently cupped his jaw.

Rett felt his own lips form an involuntary smile, soon matched by the lips he was kissing. As they started to separate, both beaming and searching each other’s faces with sparkly eyes, he took in the near silence that surrounded them.

The rain stopped, there was no banging on the roof of their van and no rumbling of thunder above. It was like the clouds dissipated the moment they kissed, giving way to sun again, Rhett thought not caring about how silly and romantic at the same time that idea was.

Divine intervention or a simple coincidence, he didn't care. The sky was clear now and so was the fact that he just shared a kiss with the person he loved most in the entire world. How he hadn't realised that earlier was unimportant. It might have taken being stranded in the middle of a road, surrounded by nothing but trees and crops and a thunderstorm worse than any other time that summer to get there, but they did, in the end - that was all that mattered.

And with that thought, Rhett embraced Link trying to put all of his love into it, and went to kiss him again.

[anyoneseenadam]

The Moon Spirit - three

Dorian x reader, Fenrys x reader (throne of glass)

Description: When you’re taught to be a queen from such a young age, nothing could go wrong. But when the king starts to fear your growing power you find yourself thrust into a world of faeries, evil magic and powerful men, learning to stand on your own can be harder than it seems.

warnings: Fenrys being cute, badass reader but like a shit ton of angst, allusions to sexual assualt (Fenrys canon stuff), mentions of weapons? idk if that counts

word count: 4.4k

a/n: so this took a while but it’s finally done, please comment it genuienly keeps me going cause it’s super easy to get unmotivated, hope you enjoy <3

——————————————————————————

After he left you, Fenrys begrudgingly found himself back at the palace, bowed on one knee in front of Maeve. She looked cruelly beautiful as always but there was something more sinister sparkling in her eyes today, remaining quiet as he stood back to his full height, meeting her gaze with wavering confidence.

“Who have you been with?” she finally broke the silence and he cursed himself for thinking he could ever get away with that.

“I just walked a young girl home, she was new, and I was afraid someone may take advantage of her if she was alone,” he spoke truthfully, allowing Maeve to push into his mind as she searched for a hidden lie.

He watched as she drew in a sharp breath, something like fear flickering across her face before her tightly drawn lips spread into a wide smile.

“Come here,” she commanded, and he went to stand in front of her, close enough to smell her sickening perfume and to see the flawless texture of her skin. “Do you love this girl?”

He shook his head, no, and she ran a hand down his face in a motherlike way. “Good, you will be recruiting her.” His eyes widened and he had to put his energy into not flinching away.

“What?” he spoke with an incredulous tone and Maeve glared at his lack of respect making him bow his head. “Sorry your majesty, I’m just slightly confused. She was just a young girl and didn’t seem to have any former training.”

“And that’s why I’m in charge, you men are too foolish. That was a powerful girl, and I would rather she remained on my side than any other.” He frowned, powerful? She had seemed kind, lost and strong enough to hold her own – but not powerful.

“I need you to see her again, convince her to join.” Fenrys physically felt the command go through him and he stood taller again, nodding gruffly as she waved her hand in dismissal.

--

Your first few days of work had been harder than expected, and you had gone home with aching muscles from lifting books and sore cheeks from plastering on smiles. Albert had made your days easier, drinking hot tea with you as you slowly revealed more and more about your past to him, his kind, old eyes lulling you into a comforting state.

But you didn’t receive rest when you got home. Ploughing through books on spirits and practicing using the limited magic you had found until the early hours of the morning, getting barely two hours of sleep a night unplagued by nightmares. By your fifth day Albert had handed you a pot of cosmetic product to hide the circles forming, commenting on scaring the customers away as you stuck your tongue out at him but smearing some on regardless.

On the second Saturday after your arrival you had a day off and used it to venture into the market, your empty shelves no longer sustaining you, let alone Amaris. Your basket soon filled with colourful fruits and vegetables, and you were browsing the fish section when a shadow fell over you.

“Let me take that for you,” you turned to see Fenrys standing over you with that same easy smile, his head tilted slightly. You rolled your eyes, trying to block out the feelings expanding in your chest at just the sight of him.

“And here I thought I had lost you,” you muttered, and he laughed, taking your basket from you, and paying for the wrapped salmon you had just been passed. “You don’t need to do stuff like that,” you told him, and he took your arm as he led you out of the market.

“Can’t help myself, I see a pretty girl in need and boom, I have to help.” He joked and you laughed lightly.

“Oh yeah, the damsel in distress disease, I’ve heard that’s a nasty one to cure,” he smiled down at you with a sparkle in his eyes.

“Not really, all I need is a kiss,” he tugged you closer and you squealed, shoving him away as he laughed.

“As I said, nasty.” He dramatically put a hand to his heart, throwing his head back in distress.

“You wound me darling,” he complained, and you laughed, hating how much you genuinely enjoyed his company. You reached your apartment in no time, and he stood at the bottom of the steps leading up to your door.

“So no invitation of tea, a glass of wine, a home cooked meal?” he asked, and you rolled your eyes,

“I’m afraid I reserve that for people I like,” he raised his eyebrows, hopping up the steps two at a time.

“Even if I have genuine cause to talk to you?” he asked and the sincerity in his eyes made a shot of fear run through you. He couldn’t know, could he?

“What is it?” you asked, and he smiled softly, a little pain shining through his loving eyes.

“The queen has a proposition to make.” His voice quietened and you straightened your posture, your entire demeanour switching in a second.

“Come in.” you opened the door and stepped in, allowing him to duck as he followed.

The first thing he noticed was how barren your apartment was, a simple kitchen, connected to a room with a pale blue sofa and worn coffee table. Your shelves were bare, and he sneaked a look into your room as he passed the open door, your mattress on the floor covered by only a thin blanket and a few cushions, one incredibly expensive looking gold dress on the floor, stained dark red. But before he could venture further in he heard you cooing in an impossibly soft voice.

He turned the corner and blanched at the sight he saw, “What the?”

You turned from were you were feeding small bits of salmon to a pure white bundle of fluff that hissed as soon as it saw him. “Amaris, be polite!” you scalded, and he surveyed the cat with a wary look, untrusting of the small creature.

“You have a cat.” He stated, suddenly completely unsure of his taste in women.

“No he’s actually a spider,” you deadpanned and Fenrys pouted.

“But I thought you’d be a dog person,” he complained, and you laughed, moving to throw open the curtains in the room before you started putting away the food you had bought, boiling a pot of water over your stove.

“I just like animals, why does it matter?” you asked, and he threw his arms up before transforming into his wolf form. You gasped and Amaris meowed loudly, scampering to hide behind your legs.

“You’re a wolf.” You stated and he turned back with a smile.

“No I’m a spider,” you flipped him off as you turned to put the rest of your food away.

“I prefer you as a wolf, they’re one of my favourite animals,” you told him and he smiled, sticking his tongue out childishly at Amaris who just sauntered of to doze on a pillow.

“So, what does the queen want?” you asked, pouring the hot water into a pot you had prepared, and he sat down on your worn-down sofa, cringing as it creaked under his weight. You followed suit soon after putting the pot and two mugs down, curling your feet underneath yourself as you looked at him.

“Well, she has told me that you’re actually extremely powerful and because of this she wants to recruit you. She wants you to join the Cadre.” He spoke surely and confidently but his eyes shone with wariness.

“Okay first of all, I’m not at all powerful, secondly how would she even know if I was, which I’m not! And third, what is The Cadre?” he laughed slightly and moved forward to pour himself a cup of tea.

“Well you clearly are because she recognised you and always knows these things, trust me. She’s never wrong about this. And The Cadre is a group I’m in, elite soldiers sworn to protect Maeve.” He explained and you shook your head.

“Fenrys I barely know basic self-defence, I’m not a soldier. And I don’t want to be sworn to royalty.” Your hands were shaking slightly at the thought of being sworn to another tyrant, “Plus in all honesty I only found out I was Fae on Monday, so I’m not exactly well versed in this shit.”

“How did you not know before?” he asked – frowning.

“The country I… come from, there was no magic. The king wiped all magic out years ago.”

“Why?” It was an understandable question but still made you panic, he couldn’t know.

“I don’t know, all I know is he did, so those alike me – with magic but born into a magicless world – never got to know.” You were good at concealing emotions, that much Fenrys could see. You seemed to have iron walls built into the clouds around your heart, protecting it as fiercely as you would Amaris.

“Well, Maeve wants to meet with you soon, so let me know when you decide gorgeous,” he stood, and you smiled at him gratefully for not prying further.

“I’m really sorry Fenrys I just don’t think it’s a good idea. As I said I’m not a soldier.” He nodded but his eyes still conveyed a sense of worry.

“Well keep in mind you would get to train with me, probably shirtless.” He joked as you opened the door for him, grinning when you laughed loudly, shoving him through the door.

“Bye Fenrys,” you said, eyes sparkling as he waved, whistling his way down the street comically.

You closed the door as your smile fell, a weight settling on your chest as you already knew why he looked so wary – Kings and Queens didn’t understand the word no.

--

You practically ran to the library the next day, opting to bring Amaris with you as he peeked out of the small handbag you had found stuffed into the back of your closet. When you flew into the library you instantly sought out Albert, who took one look at your flushed, shining appearance and abandoned the pile of books he was putting away, motioning for you to sit down.

You sat quickly, huffing out a breath as Amaris crawled out of his makeshift home and started exploring the new territory of the small backroom reserved for staff only.

“What bothers you child?” Albert’s voice was steady as always and his dry, warm hands grasped yours gently as your eyes filled with unshed tears.

“I just – I needed to talk to someone,” you stuttered out, your breath coming in harsher pants as he shushed you.

“Take a minute and allow yourself to breathe first dear,” he commanded, and you pressed a hand to your heart as you tried to slow its pounding. “Start from the beginning, tell me what’s wrong.”

“The man I loved, his- his name was Dorian, Dorian Havilliard.” You said quietly and Albert let out a small chuckle.

“I presumed as much, I visited Adarlan once, and an old man never forgets the face of a princess.” You looked at him through blurry eyes, confused.

“You knew?” he smiled sadly at you.

“I was 90% certain, but I would never have pressured you to reveal secrets like that.” He passed you a tissue, “But I sense that’s not all that weighs heavy on you?”

You shook your head, “Queen Maeve has made clear that she wishes me to join the Cadre.”

Albert’s face changed with the clear shock, and you bowed your head, shamefully.

“And what did you say?” he asked slowly.

“No, of course! I don’t have any desire to be another monarch’s puppet.” You stated and he shushed you again.

“You need to remember that people always listen.” He scolded, repeating one of the first things he had told you when you started working. “I agree that you should be cautious, but perhaps gaining the queens protection would be beneficial. Plus you would become an extremely skilled swordsman.”

“I am not a man, nor do I wish to be.” You said through gritted teeth, “And I vowed that I would become skilled on my own and go back to Dorian.”

“Yes but if you join, you will be more skilled than ever before,” Albert reasoned and you shook your head, tears welling up again.

“I thought you’d be on my side for this, you are the one who told me to be careful around powerful people.” You felt unjustly betrayed as he spoke and his shoulders slumped slightly, sighing before grasping your hands lightly again.

“I am dear, and I urge you to do what you think is best. But I am simply reminding you that if you truly want to beat this king you are being offered power on a silver platter right now, and perhaps it would be foolish to deny yourself it.” You let his words run around your head as you worked overtime trying to figure out a plan.

“Say I joined – what do I need to do to ensure I don’t become another puppet?” you asked, and he smiled at you.

“First of all, she will offer a blood oath and you must refuse it with everything you have in you – she came to you remember you hold the power. On that note you must summon all those queenly powers of yours and ensure when you speak to her, she is meeting you and she is trying to win you over. Never the other way around.” You nodded, pocketing the information in your head. “When in the palace you are always being watched, always being listened to, so keep your wits about you. But I’m sure you’re used to that by now.”

You laughed under your breath, “It’ll be just like going home,” you commented, and he smiled.

“Sadly yes, now take this money. Go but a new dress and tomorrow you will take a carriage, you can’t walk there.” You thanked him softly, placing the gold in the purse you held, “You’re a kind girl, that is what makes you strong and that’s what will make you a good queen. Don’t let them take your heart.”

Your throat tightened and you nodded due to the lack of trust you held for your voice, standing, and collecting your bag in one hand and Amaris in the other. Albert stood to take you to the door with a smile, and a gentle pat on the shoulder.

“You can have tomorrow off work as well, however I feel our work together is already coming to an end.” You smiled softly, allowing him to pet Amaris’ head softly before he kissed your cheek gently, ushering you out the door.

“Have a good night Albert,” you said, turning to see him watching you with sorrowful eyes.

“Remember what I told you dear, don’t let them take your heart.” Your smile was sad as you spoke,

“I won’t.” You both heard the lie but, neither of you decided to correct it. Not tonight.

--

Of all the things Fenrys expected to see the next morning, you were the one he hoped for. But as he looked around at the powerful men surrounding the room he felt white-hot panic seize him as he realised what you were about to do. You hadn’t even looked at him when you walked in, keeping your eyes trained solely on Maeve, not even dropping them as you dropped in a low curtsy.

He was even more shocked by the blood red dress you adorned, the v-neck deep and skirts long with a slit up either leg, high enough to reveal the halter you wore with a silver dagger and a ruby encrusted hilt secured into place. Every man, woman and mouse watched as you walked through the room – head high and shoulders back, revealing enough to entrance everyone in the room but covering enough to keep them wanting more and he felt his anger grow as he watched you.

You waited with a soft, but condescending, smile on your face, allowing Maeve to regrasp some power by speaking first – every movement so calculated and precise. As he watched you he saw the power and understood the fear and lust building in the room.

“So I guess you heard my offer.” Maeve finally said, drawling low with relaxed posture.

“I did.” Your statement was short, to the point but you saw it grate Maeve’s nerves and smiled as sweet as spun sugar, “Your majesty.”

“And?” he watched as Maeve grew more agitated and was surprised she hadn’t killed you yet, usually not standing for even an ounce of insubordination.

“I am willing to accept on one condition – I’m not taking a blood oath.” He had to fight jumping in the air with glee as you spoke, so afraid you were going to get tangled in the mess he was in. Maeve’s face grew dark, but you held your ground, never letting your eyes stray lest she see your weakness.

“Well that’s simply not viable,” she stated, glaring you into the ground but you just smiled again, nodding with a polite laugh.

“I see, well this was a lovely meeting, gentlemen.” You raised your hand politely as you moved to leave, your eyes finally flittering over him and the rest of the cadre. You bowed once again to Maeve, making to leave when Maeve raised her hand.

“We are not finished.” She stated.

“Well I’m terribly sorry your majesty but I’ve made my terms extremely clear, and since you refuse to budge - I believe we are done.” Your voice was still sweet, but he watched your face change slightly, every bit a queen looking down upon her people. He couldn’t help but wonder were you learned to speak this way, but Maeve simply laughed.

“Yet here you are,” she spoke with a mocking tone, and you smiled with your teeth this time.

“Need I remind you that you sought me out, if I have terms it should be in your best interest to meet them if you wish me to join your miniature army.” Fenrys heard Lorcan snarl lowly next to him but gripped his arm in warning.

“Oh your training is impressive princess, but I’m afraid it will be of no use.” Your face didn’t budge as Maeve spoke, but Fenrys watched as something flickered through your eyes, “You see, I learn of misdemeanours in other courts very easily and I wish to show you what I learned of Adarlan.”

“There’s nothing you could show me that I won’t have seen before,” you said, and he watched the two of you laugh like you were mingling at a party instead of standing of in a court.

“Oh I’m afraid this is relatively new, you might reconsider your terms after this,” you stood straight as Maeve walked down the steps and moved to whisper something the rest of them couldn’t hear in your ear, her hand pressed lightly to the base of your neck.

She pulled away after a few minutes and he took in your now shaking hands, eyes filled with tears you clearly refused to let fall. You took in a steadying breath before speaking, “You’re lying.”

“Oh I wish I was princess, but I can only show the truth and it appears your prince had moved on rather quickly, what use is there going back to a country where you can no longer rule.” She stroked your hair condescendingly and you chewed the inside of your lip as it quivered. “But here, here – under my control – you have power of your own. Men will no longer hold onto you like a prized pony, you will become something they fear, you will be my perfect princess, the daughter I never got to have.”

Fenrys inhaled sharply, he knew Maeve never planned to relent the throne, especially not to a woman from another country. She looked at you like you were a doll, something for her to reshape and change. You must have seen it to, but through your blurry eyes everything had changed.

“Okay,” your voice was smaller than before, and he wanted to tear Maeve limb from limb for having broken you down so harshly with just a few words. She smiled cruelly at you as she cut a small line along her forearm and you bowed your head in pain, before falling to your knees – graceful even as pain consumed your entire being. You brought your lips to her wound and drank as she repeated the words that he remembered all too well.

When you rose your lips were sparkling red, and your eyes were glistening with tears still unshed – but you raised your head like a queen and Maeve smiled.

“I believe you have already met Fenrys, he will be training you as the training you have received is not proficient, I’ll have all your belongings brought to a room here.” Maeve waved her hand to some guards, but you stopped her.

“I only need Amaris brought here; the rest can burn.” You muttered.

“And for your new wardrobe?” She asked and you smiled looking down, wiping your mouth slowly.

“Make it red.” You finally met Fenrys eyes, and he stepped forward, desperate to drag you far, far away.

“Shall I escort her to her new room?” he asked Maeve and she flitted her eyes to him, then to the hand he had pressed to your back.

“Yes and then afterword’s come find me,” she smiled cruelly at him, and he felt you stiffen under his hand, but he just nodded and began to lead you out of the room.

He led you through the corridors and up the stairs in silence, angry at you for accepting and at himself for not putting up more of a fight. When he reached the room he presumed would be yours he opened the door for you, following you in as you sat on the bed, your usual lightness replaced by the weight on your shoulders.

He watched you bow your head and came to sit beside you, “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise; this was my choice.” You said and he reached an arm around your shoulders, but you quickly shrugged him off.

“I shouldn’t, we shouldn’t, if you and the queen are…” you trailed off and Fenrys bowed his head in shame.

“It’s not like that, she, she makes me,” he muttered, and you inhaled sharply, turning to him with those watery eyes.

“I had no idea, I’m sorry,” you whispered, instantly looping your arms around him neck and holding him tight. “She’s a monster.”

Fenrys huffed a laugh, pulling away, “You’re telling me.”

He reached a hand for your face slowly, wiping under your eyes where a tear had escaped, “how did she change your mind?” he asked, dark eyes searching your face for clues as your bottom lip quivered in pain.

“She showed me home,” was all you said, and his shoulders dropped. He would leave it for now, you were young and clearly not ready to speak – and now, they had all the time in the world to speak.

“Sleep tight, training starts at seven tomorrow,” he stood and kissed your head lightly and you nodded, words getting caught in your throat. He left quietly, walking away as quickly as he could to avoid hearing the soft sobs that erupted as soon as he closed the door.

--

You could barely contain your tears until you got to your room, repeating rule thirteen over and over in your head, crying in public is only appropriate at funerals and weddings. But as soon as Fenrys left your room you sobbed into your hands, wailing, and crying like a child throwing a tantrum as you let out the emotions, the screams that have been locked inside of you for so long.

You had done everything for Dorian, changed every part of yourself and become the perfect princess, girlfriend, fiancé – and he, mere weeks after you had to run, was already moving onto a new girl.

As hard as you tried you couldn’t get rid of the image of him and the blonde girl out of your head. How he kissed her softly, his hand on her lower back where it always used to rest on yours. The smile when he pulled away, the way he laughed with her, the way Chaol smiled at his brother when he was happy. You had been forgotten, replaced, almost instantly, the warmth you used to feel when you thought of home, of your princes’ arms replaced by a tight chest and a cold feeling encompassing your heart.

“I’m sorry Albert,” you whispered into the air as you stood looking out on your balcony, gripping tightly to the rail as you feared your legs would give out, “She already took it.”

You were interrupted by a quiet knock on your door, wiping your eyes as you opened it – taking Amaris from the tall guards’ hands as a flurry of women pushed in, filling your drawers with clothes and cosmetics, candles and hair pins, books and plants, a million supplies for Amaris and then some. You smiled politely at them as they left without saying a word, in and out extremely quickly as you stared at a knot in the floor.

Another knock sounded soon after and you turned your head to see one of the Cadre staring in with piercing green eyes. You motioned for him to come in and stood, tilting your head up to meet his gaze as he took in your messy, tear-stained expression.

“You’re the first female member of the Cadre, ever.” He stated and you blinked slowly.

“Lucky me,” your tone was sarcastic, voice rough from the crying but the man smiled.

“I’m Rowan, it’s good to meet you.” He reached out a hand and you met it, allowing him to kiss the back gently.

“(Y/n)” you returned, with a slight curtsey.

“I look forward to fighting with you (y/n),” he stated, releasing your hand and turning to leave, stopping right before he reached the door, “Oh, and don’t lose that dagger, you’ll find a shocking number of men dislike powerful women.”

“First I’m hearing of this,” you deadpanned, and he chuckled.

“Goodluck kid.”

[elderbwrry]

Girls' Night

tags: the knights of ren, All Women Knights of Ren, Girl's night, Girl's Knight, haha please like me, Fluff and Humor, Adversarial Kylux, Very much a WIP, Kylux, although fair warning it might not be that relationshippy

Read it on ao3

Summary: Hux is surprised by what the Knights of Ren get up to in their free time - it's strangely humanising. Unfortunately, Ren is still being the Lord of all Assholes. Hux needs a way to get back at him. It gives him an idea.

Hux marched down the corridor in the Finalizer's quarters deck, the section dedicated to command personnel. The immaculately tiled and polished floors glinted as he whipped past them. He was walking a little faster than usual, he noticed with distaste, but it wasn't surprising; this was his last task before he could officially count his shift as “over” and, instead of standing stiffly on the bridge checking reports, he could settle down to checking them in the comfort of his quarters. His sofa beckoned, along with another three hours of beloved admin, then five necessary hours of sleep before his next shift.

Moments ticked by as he had to pause and wait for a security door to open, and he felt his frustration manifesting itself in his brow. He was currently delaying himself by heading approximately six minutes out of the way of his own quarters, all to give Ren little more than a telling off. This wasn't the first time the glorified poser had caused him this kind of issue – trust Ren to get in the way, he excelled at it – but it was the first time Hux was personally carrying the message round to his quarters that he needed to file a report for the mission he returned from over a week ago.

Hux had tried the usual ways of getting hold of Ren; on his return to the ship, Hux had informed him a report was due; an automated reminder had been sent; a follow-up reminder had been sent; Hux sent a reminder himself. Today, when his agenda noted that Ren still remained unresponsive, Hux hailed him over internal comms. No reply. He called Mitaka in, intending to send him to Ren's quarters, but the poor man had paled at the knight's very name. So, Hux had dismissed him, and undertaken to deliver the message himself.

Hux didn't bother to wonder the reason why Ren wasn't completing the report – undoubtedly it was because he was irresponsible, disrespectful, possibly illiterate – he only amused himself to wonder what foolish excuse would be employed this time. “Meditation,” Hux's mind supplied in a mocking approximation of Ren's voice without that ostentatious helmet, “important Force matters,” “training,” “I was just really tired and forgot :(”

He was just shaking his head disapprovingly at the imagined pout as he drew up outside the door itself. He pressed the button to request entry, pushing it harder than necessary until his thumb joint hurt, as if somehow that would convey through the automated, equalized buzz sound how annoyed he was with Ren taking up his time like this.

The door puffed open, and Hux's mouth was already opened to give Ren a piece of his mind when he realised that the person in front of him was not, in fact, Ren. Instead, stood before him was a woman nearly a head shorter than himself, her long, black hair piled on her head in a decidedly non-regulation messy bun, drawn away from her face, on which was slathered some kind of light pink paste. She was wrapped in a fluffy, pink dressing gown, under which appeared to be heart patterned pink pyjamas.

Hux's planned rebuke of Ren fell away into an, “Uh.” Usually, he had time to prepare himself for any kind of non-work-related interactions, but he had planned to go into this with a clipped, righteous annoyance and come out of it with a self-indulgent bit of riling Ren up, and now that Ren was not available for that, he had nothing.

“Yes?” she said, about as neutrally as Hux supposed anyone would, when called upon while attired as she was.

“I must have the wrong quarters,” was what he managed to reply.

“These aren't mine,” she explained, pointing behind her, around a corner which Hux couldn't see, “You looking for Kylo?”

“Yes,” Hux said stiffly, “is Ren here?”

The woman leaned back inside the door, around the corner Hux still couldn't see. “Kyle!” she called, “visitor.”

“He's not getting up, wet nails!” someone called back, another female sounding voice.

Just what was happening in there? How many women were there, and what were they doing in Ren's quarters, of all places, clad in such unofficial wear? Hux shuddered to think. Was he also going to have to remind Ren of the rules against fraternisation with inferior officers? That was sure to be a fun conversation of Ren not giving a kriff and Hux being able to do little but barb his words and maybe mention the situation to Snoke. Odd, though – Hux had never thought Ren had showed any preference for women... or perhaps that had just been wishful thinking.

The woman before him remained still for a moment, her brown eyes glazing over just slightly in a way which made Hux think she wasn't entirely mentally present. Then the look was gone as soon as it had come, and she frowned, annoyed. “He wants you to leave,” she informed him, “but he wasn't very nice about it, so you're coming in.” She turned and retreated back inside, beckoning casually for him to follow.

After a moment, once Hux's brain had caught up – Ren had just communicated with the woman through the Force, and now he was being invited in against those wishes. He slipped through the door, letting it puff closed behind him.

The first fact of the place was that Ren's quarters were larger than Hux's. Hux had known this, of course – he'd scoffed over the confirmation for the allocation when Ren had first transferred over, perfectly happy to take moderately sized quarters himself – but, as he walked down the grandly inlaid corridor from the entrance antechamber to what was presumably a living space, it contributed to the sense of an impending mystery as to what, exactly, he was about to discover. He hoped it was nothing too debauched.

“You're that General, aren't you?” the woman a step in front of him asked over her shoulder. “Hanks? Hugs?”

“Hux,” he corrected. He disliked intensely when people got his name wrong. He was the General of the ship they were all currently hurtling through space on, he was the General Starkiller – how could she not know who he was? “Who are you?”

“Ushar,” she replied easily. No rank, no designation of any sort, no actual deference to him as a General; all things Hux made a mental note of for later, when he could check the ship manifest.

“Might I ask what you're...”

Hux had begun to speak with an acerbic self-confidence – it was his ship, and he demanded to know what was happening on it – but it all became clear when Ushar opened the door to the central living area and the situation was revealed. It was the second time Hux had been caused to falter in his words in the last five minutes, and he didn't appreciate it. “What is this?” he asked, minorly horrified, as he took in the scene before him.

Ushar shrugged. “Girls' night.”

The room looked like some kind of stereotypical, tacky imitation of a Zeltronian spa had taken over. There were tall glasses of something bubbly scattered around, half-drunk, the bottle chilling in a bucket of ice on the coffee table, which was scattered with cosmetic items. A holo-romance was playing off to the side. Boxes of chocolates fountained forth crunched up wrappers. There were four women – two humans, a zabrak and a twi'lek – lounging around in the pit of cushions the room had been turned into. The cushions were allpink to match the identical pink bath robes and headbands and fluffy slippers the room's inhabitants were sporting. And, at the centre of it all; Ren.

“You...” Hux started, under his breath just enough that no-one would take notice of the stammering. He had certainly not expected this. “I...”

Ren, clad too in pink fluffy bath robe, seemingly with nothingunder it this time, finally took notice that Ushar had led Hux in, as he sat up quickly and angrily, removing slices of some green vegetable from over his eyes. The woman who had been painting his toenails – black, possibly the only thing that could reconcile the Ren Hux was used to with this strange, pink perversion before him – protested, but he ignored her, instead hurrying to his feet and wading his way out of the pillows.

“I told you to make him leave,” Ren growled at Ushar, but the effect was considerably diminished thanks to his appearance. The bathrobe he wore was the short, fun kind of style which only came to his knees; the pink headband kept all his hair back from his face gave him a kooky sort of bird's nest; his face was slathered with a light green version of what Ushar had on, all except for comical spaces around his eyes and lips.

Ushar glared at him. “You shouldn't have ordered me like that, then,” she said, going over to sit next to the zabraki woman, shuffling in closer than was strictly platonic and picking up one of the glasses. “I'm not some stormtrooper.”

“You're ruining the night,” Ren brandished the vegetable slice at her. It wobbled.

“You'reruining the night!” the woman Ushar was sat next to shot back. “He's here after you!”

“Yeah, Kyle,” the twi'lek said from the sofa in a tone that was very much mocking, but still friendly, popping a chocolate in her mouth. Who were these people, that they could speak to Kylo Ren like this and get away with it?

Ren turned back to Hux, glowering. The face paste made him look like a clown. The outside finally reflects the inside, Hux thought to himself while wondering if Ren had waxed his legs or if they were just like that naturally, and had to force himself not to laugh. He obviously didn't mask his expressions quite as well as he should have, however, because Ren seemed to sense that Hux was amusing himself at his expense. Seizing Hux's upper arm in a grip to rival that of a hangar-bay droid, Ren manhandled Hux back to the door of the room, away from the group.

“Unhand me, you oaf,” Hux admonished, shaking Ren off him and lowering his tone a little so as not to disturb the ladies, who, in their disregard of Ren's plumped-up edginess, had endeared themselves to him.

“Why are you here?” Ren demanded before he'd even finished speaking, also at subdued pitch.

“Why are you here?” Hux returned, hissingly. “Who are these people? Why are you not completing the mission report which you have had no fewer than five requests for? Why the hells are your quarters this gods-awful colour?”

Ren took a moment to glare at Hux.

Hux interpreted this as having the upper hand. “Well?”

“I'm not completing any more of your stupid kriffing reports,” he said as if it were obvious. “I told you that already.”

Hux cycled through his memory quickly. He remembered Ren slamming down the last report onto his desk and threatening something similar, but he'd disregarded it, because reports were Necessary, and it was not a possibility for anyone to simply not do them.

“You will do the report,” Hux replied.

“No.”

“You'll do it now.”

Ren snorted. “No.”

Hux bristled. “Ren, I have been forced to come down here – well out of my way – to extract this report from you, only to find you sitting around like some... pampered princess, when I could be-”

“Good point actually, let's return to it. What are you doing down here?” Ren frowned and crossed his arms, but his lips curled cruelly, ready, Hux was sure, to make some insult about his doing such menial work.

“That brings me to the next matter,” Hux plucked the opportunity of throwing in this additional argument, squaring up. “You have intimidated my administrative staff to the point where it is necessary that I waste my time in a way which is thoroughly unacceptable to me.”

Ren widened his eyes in mock sympathy. “Did you forget how to use a comm?”

This only pissed Hux off more, because something about the movement was ridiculously attractive. He wasn't sure whether it was the slight shrug which emphasised Ren's muscular arms, the fact that the pink really brought out the rich shade of his hair, or even the cruelty behind the act itself, but it could not stand.

“I'm quite familiar with the comms system,” he spat, “it seems that you are the one having trouble, since you failed to reply to my hails. As my co-commander,” (Hux had practised in his bathroom mirror not grimacing as he said this) “you are expected to answer your comms when I call. It is highly unprofessional of you to shirk your duty like this.”

Ren momentarily pursed his lips. His next words were caustic. “I don't intend to waste my life away at work like you do, slaving over a tablet until I look like the living dead. At least I know how to relax.”

Hux's eye twitched. “I know how to relax.” An imagined image of himself on his icy blue sofa in his black and red robe, his cat to one side, his data-pad in hand, appeared in his mind. That was relaxing.

“No you don't,” Ren scoffed. “You should see the bags under your eyes. You look more drawn out than all the Starkiller blueprints put together.”

Mentally, Hux's self-image adjusted so that his porcelain skin turned grey, the lines of his face more prominent, the room dark until only he was visible by the harsh light of the data-pad. It could not have been more different than his current surroundings of pink and fluffiness and companionship and soft lighting.

“Get out of my head, Ren,” he said, putting the warping of his imagined scene down to some Force meddling.

“I'm not in your head,” Ren replied, “you're just sad and lonely and jealous that you have to go do a report while I have a nice night with my knights – my friends. You,” he pointed sassily, “could never have this,” he pointed back to the ladies. “Now kriff off, I'm not doing the report. Maybe you should do it yourself, since you have such a boner for that kind of thing.” The door far behind Hux puffed open, presumably manipulated by the Force.

“I expect the report before the end of my shift tomorrow,” Hux said, voice dangerous and low. How dare Ren speak to him like that. How dare he judge what Hux did to relax, while he was being a layabout with these random, cool ladies... doing... fun things like... painting nails and getting tipsy... and watching holo-dramas... and... he wasn't jealous.

“Leave,” Kylo told him.

Hux narrowed his eyes. “You will regret this, Ren.” He turned on his heel and marched from the room, commenting to himself once more as the door puffed closed behind him, “You will regret this.”

[line break]

Kylo watched Hux retreat from the room, waiting until the door had closed to turn and make his way back to his knights. He flopped himself back down onto the floor, jostling Ap'lek's sofa cushions in the process.

“Ah kriff,” he complained as he saw his black-smudged toes stretched out in front of him, “he made me ruin my nail paint.”

“I'm not doing them again,” Trudgen said, tossing the little black bottle at him, shifting around to watch the holo and grabbing a chocolate. “You shoulda been more careful when you got up instead of rushing off to be a bitch.”

Kylo sighed over-dramatically and called out, “Cardo!” She and Kuruk were in the kitchen, probably making an unsightly mess of the place, but Kylo knew only she would be willing to finish the paint for him. Of course, he would have to take the chance that the stuff would end up even more smudged than it already was, and, now he was thinking about it, he would probably be better off just dipping his entire feet in nail polish.

A chocolate wrapper hit the side of his head. He turned to see Ushar had thrown it. “Just do it yourself,” she told him, “it's not like it's hard.”

But he wanted to feel spoiled, that was the whole point of this spa evening anyway. He called Cardo's name again, whinier this time.

“What?!” came the shouted reply, “We're making mug muffins!”

Vicrul frowned, straightening up a little where her arm was thrown around Ushar's shoulders. “In the microwave?”

“Yeah!”

“Huh,” Vicrul shrugged, settling back down again. “Good luck cleaning that.”

Kylo groaned, letting his head fall back onto the sofa cushion behind him. First Hux was on him about a report, then none of his knights would do his nails for him, now Cardo was splattering his lovely microwave with chocolate batter. This was all Hux's fault. Kylo wasn't sure how yet, but it was.

He opened his eyes to see Ap'lek looking down at him, where his head rested by her left elbow. “What's this about a report then?” she asked flatly. Kylo just groaned again and re-closed his eyes.

“You can't be procrastinating this stuff again,” Ushar nagged him over the sound of footsteps, accompanied by a smell of chocolate, and a thunk-clink of a tray with spoons being set down on the table as the cooks brought the muffins through. “Your job is important, here, Kylo. Snoke wants you to do well.”

“To hell with Snoke,” Kylo mumbled, hoping the crusty fart wasn't spying on his thoughts as they spoke. Paperwork was a fate worse than a fate worse than all the Sith hells combined.

“Then we want you to do well,” she continued.

“Plus we blew up so much shit on that mission,” Vicrul added, and Kylo opened his eyes to glare at her as she accepted a mug from Kuruk.

“You have to tell the General about that some time, why not put it in a report? You'd save him lots of time, probably. I bet he'd be so appreciative.”

Kylo accepted a mug proffered by Kuruk and waved it about a bit. “Since when do we care about saving Hux time? I meant what I said, he loves paperwork so much he probably,” he picked up a spoon and stabbed it into the fluffy top of the muffin, watching steam come out as he tried to pick a suitably ridiculous image of Hux. “He probably sleeps with all the files strewn over his bed and like,” he made a face, “rubs them on his body, gets all cozy with them at night. I don't know.”

“I'm pretty sure he does paperwork on his data-pad,” Ap'lek said, and she was right, though Kylo resented that she'd killed his roll.

“Just do the kriffing report, Kyle.” Trudgen hadn't pulled her attention away from the holo enough to face him as she'd said it, but apparently had been paying enough attention to comment, “Anything to stop him showing up and interrupting us. Girls' night is a no-business zone.”

Cardo chose that moment to vault over the back of the sofa and land heavily on the cushions. “Ooh, General Hux came over?” she asked cheerfully. Her hands were, predictably, still coated in chocolate powder. “I can't believe I missed him, I want to see if his hair is gelled that solid from close up.” She grabbed her mug and dug into the muffin.

“The General shouts too much,” Kuruk said, sitting cross legged on a cushion by the coffee table. “He should check his blood pressure, it can't be good for him.”

“Hey, a bit like you!” Cardo added, “You must call me through next time. He's cute.”

Kylo opened his mouth – partly to gape at what had just been said, and partly because the muffin was too hot and he hadn't had the impulse control to prevent eating a large spoonful. “Hey!” he started a few times, mouth full and burning. Finally, he was able to swallow. “He is not cute, and there will be no,” he wobbled his mug and spoon in a no-fingered version of quotation marks, “next time.”

“Then do the report,” Ushar shot back.

Kylo made a loud complaint noise.

“He's not gonna do it because he wants the General to come over again,” Ap'lek teased, and, to Kylo's horror, all his knights laughed. Traitors. He didn't want Hux to come over again.

“I don't,” he replied vehemently, “I want him to kriff off and stop annoying me.”

“I think that's against his job description,” Kuruk said, prompting further laughs.

“You should just do it,” Ushar said, getting to her feet after a moment more.

“Hey, where you going?” Vicrul asked sadly, not letting go of Ushar's hand.

“Babe, I gotta peel my face.”

“Wait, let me come with, it's really satisfying.”

The two disappeared off, and Kylo had to add 'his knights screwing in his bathroom' to his list of sub-par things to happen this evening. He wasn't going to do the report. He couldn't be bothered, he didn't want to, he hated writing things and making them sound 'formal'. No, tonight he was going to finish his mug muffin, paint his nails and fall asleep with his knights in front of a trashy holo-romance. Hux would get the hell in eventually and do the report himself. Give it a few more days, and Kylo was sure Hux would drop the issue.

[thetriggeredhappy]

If you’re still doing requests, what about if Scout never came back to life after Spy tells him he’s his dad? I’m interested to see bc 1) Spy seemed like he was about to go Apeshit on the enemy team and 2) Miss Pauling, Soldier and Zhanna were literally JUST with him a while ago. That’s got to be disorienting. and 3) I like angst

i really do write one fic abt That Scene From The Comics and everyone goes bananas huh

(warnings for severe injury, major character death, canon-typical violence, the works)

-

“Spy, you’re back!” Miss Pauling called, hurrying over and continuing to shield her eyes from the views both Soldier and Sniper had decided to present to the team. “Good, we’ve just about wrapped up everything around here. Did you—“

“Scout’s dead,” Spy said, continuing to limp past her, expression stony.

“I’m sorry, what?” she asked, blinking and moving to follow after him.

“Scout’s dead,” Spy repeated.

“What?” she demanded. “What do you mean, Scout’s dead?”

“Scout is dead, Miss Pauling,” Spy suddenly snapped, spinning around to hiss it at her, expression contorted with a series of emotions. “And if you don’t terribly mind it I would rather not stand here all day with a shattered kneecap just repeating myself over and over again until you can understand me. Scout is dead.”

She raised a hand to cover her mouth, eyes widening. “Spy, oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she said quietly, enough that nobody else would hear.

Spy’s expression settled into anger for a few moments, then he managed to simmer it down into mere frustration, although she could still see the emotion locked there behind his eyes. “You aren’t the one who killed him, what are you apologizing for?” he asked, voice a mumble, looking off to one side.

She sighed softly. “You know why,” she murmured, and earned the barest glance before he was looking away again.

“What a shame,” Spy said, changing the subject abruptly as he glanced around them. “I’m afraid there may not be any robots remaining for me to work my frustration out on. I would rather not go anywhere near the Soldier or Saxton Hale when either of them are on a killing spree. Unfortunate, I was looking forward to it.”

She was sure ‘frustration’ wasn’t the correct word, but she let it go. “Like you can even walk,” she pointed out, looking down over the wound in his knee. “Take a seat on... that rubble, I guess. Let me see if I can patch that up at all.”

“If you think you’re going to bait me into sitting still long enough to psychoanalyze me, you’ll need to think again, Miss Pauling,” Spy scoffed.

“If you think you can make it another ten minutes without treating that, you’ll need to think again,” she scoffed right back. “C’mon.”

He sighed, glanced at the pile of rubble, and ultimately caved, only somewhat because his body couldn’t really hold up its own weight anymore.

And she kept her commentary and questions to herself. For a while, at least. “It’s almost over, we’re in the final stretch. Now we just hunt down the other Heavy and we’re home free, we can rebuild.” She smiled at him, although it was a tight one. “What will you do in the meantime?”

“Well, I believe I have a woman in Boston who I need to call regarding her youngest son, and then I expect I’ll be living on the run for the few months it takes her to find and kill me,” Spy said dryly. “So unfortunately, I may not be available if this is meant to be a smooth segue into another job offer.”

“That’s a shame. I was really looking forward to continuing to work with you,” she said, tone almost joking. “Dying really puts a damper on the workflow, on the, uh...”

“Synergy,” Spy supplied.

“Synergy, exactly. Terrible work environment, being dead and all,” she continued, trying to give him an out, a distraction.

Instead, she watched as he drew a hand down his face, taking a deep breath that had little to do with the pressure she was trying to apply to the wound.

“You’re sure?” she asked after a bit of that silence.

“He had a hole in his stomach the size of a cannonball and started going cold almost immediately,” Spy said with a huff of laughter, expression hidden behind his hand. “I’ve been less sure about the deaths of people I’ve stabbed through the heart.”

“He wasn’t dead when you got there?” she asked, surprised.

“Not quite. Barely lucid, though. The Sniper was kind enough to give me a moment to talk to him.”

“What did you say?”

“Exactly what he wanted to hear. A lie.” Spy’s eyes turned out towards the horizon line. “He was already nearly gone, there was no time for the truth. He died mid-sentence, I’m not even entirely sure he understood all of what I said. I’m pathetic.”

“I think it’s brave of you, actually. Or kind, at least. Make him happy there, give him some closure.”

“At least one of us could get it,” Spy agreed, and sighed hard, squeezing his eyes shut. “Then why do I feel so horrible?”

“Well, first of all, your son is dead,” she pointed out. “That’s not a great way for your Thursday to go.”

Spy snorted a laugh, but it petered off a bit too quickly to stick. “It’s not as though I even really knew him,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but there was always the chance. Always this idea in the back of your head, like... you’d figure it out. Like one day you’d get there with him.”

He shot her a look. “How do you know that?”

“How many years do we have to work together before I can figure out some things about how your brain works?” she asked, ripping the fabric she was using as gauze with her teeth. “Also, quit losing blood.”

“I suppose I’ll try,” he deadpanned. A beat of silence before he inhaled, exhaled. “And that’s not entirely wrong, but not entirely correct either.”

She gestured for him to go on with the hand not applying pressure.

“We spent several months in the same jail cell. Almost every single day, I was faced with the opportunity to come clean to him. To say something, anything. And every day I failed.” He tugged restlessly at his mask. “And then we were no longer in jail, and I told myself I would tell him, and I didn’t. How many nails do I drive into the coffin before the final one is meaningless? When I continue to place straws on the camel’s back, does it really matter which one was the last?”

“Yeah. It does,” she said, finally starting to wrap the wound, glancing over their surroundings for a piece of shrapnel to use as a brace. “I think you still get to be sad. You still get to regret it. It’s just... harder to look at it once it’s all over. Harsher in hindsight.”

“Harsher in hindsight,” he repeated, voice quiet. He paused for a long moment. “Maybe it’s better this way. Simple, happy emotions there at the end instead of deep, complicated ones. Let him feel like the hero of his own story, at least for a little while.”

“It’s Scout, didn’t he always?” she scoffed.

“If he was anything at all like his father? No,” Spy murmured, and that was the last the two of them ever said on the matter. At least, out loud.

[writethelifeyouwant]

Dive Bar, Ch. 1/?

Pairing: Dean x OFC (Dany) x Sam (brief), Dean x Sam (eventually)  Rating: 18+ Prompt/Summary: @spnkinkbingo square - Gay Panic (eventually, I don’t know how to write short things, so the gay panic comes later). Dany and Dean hit it off at a bar and Dean is confident it’s a sure thing. But Dean doesn’t know that Dany’s has a dare to complete, and he definitely didn’t imagine his night would end with his pull inviting his little brother to come home with them too.  WC: 3278 Tags: alcohol, cheesy flirting, tags will change next chapter 😉😏🍆 A/N: Okay, let’s be real. Anyone who knows me by now, knows I can’t fucking cut to the chase. Welcome to part one of who knows how many. If you want the smut quickly, I encourage begging 🤣(and so does Sam 😏) Ambience: Really want to set the mood? Welcome to a dive bar in Nowheresville, USA: Playlist and Ambience 

***

Sam told Dean he was crazy for even trying but Dean had a sense about these things; Sam didn’t. He was too considerate. Sam thought the fact she was out with her girlfriends meant she wasn’t interested, she wouldn’t want to be bothered, but Dean knew better. The ones who went up to get the next rounds were the ones who were looking to be bothered. They were separating themselves from the pack on purpose, to give guys the opportunity to pick them up and show them a good time. They wanted to prove to their friends that they were desirable. It wasn’t a bad confidence boost either, even if the guys that came on to them weren’t what they were after. 

So, when the girl with the flirty eyelashes that had been staring over at Sam and Dean’s table for the past half-hour spun off her stool and went to lean against the unpleasantly sticky bar, Dean knew his window had opened. 

“Watch and learn Sammy,” Dean smirked and slapped Sam’s shoulder as he sauntered over to his target, fixing his best smoulder in place. 

The girl felt movement behind her when Dean slid up and motioned to the bartender that he was after another round, and she turned with a coy but almost predatory twitch to her smile. She knew exactly who was behind her. 

“Hi there,” Dean was almost leering at the girl. 

*

Across the room, Sam was resisting the urge to put his head in his hands and pretend he’d never met his brother. This was gonna be a train wreck. At the very least, Dean was about to end up with one of those margaritas the bartender was laying down in front of her thrown in his face. 

Deciding to spare himself the second-hand embarrassment of watching Dean crash and burn with the coed he’d been eyeing since they arrived, Sam let his eyes wander the rest of the bar absentmindedly. He was nursing his second beer of the evening, after pounding back his first one with Dean in their stupid post-hunt ritual. 

It was new, their whole ‘who can down their beer the quickest’ routine. Before Stanford, Sam was lucky if his dad let him split a beer with them after a hunt, let alone chug one. But ever since he and Dean had been back on the road, it was like Dean was trying to make up for a bit of lost time, and things that absolutely smacked of immaturity were becoming part of how they lived their lives. Like how now, after a successful hunt, they always raced to the bottom of the first beer bottle, leaving the loser to buy the rounds for the rest of the night. 

When Dean started it, it was because he figured he obviously had the upper hand. He had years more drinking experience than Sammy, and there was no way the little geek had drunk that much at college.

What Dean didn’t know is that, for a while there, Sam and his friends had gone through a bit of a mental breakdown that manifested itself in endless parties, borderline alcoholism, and a very brief experimentation with some drugs on the ‘gateway’ end of the spectrum. Really, it was Sam’s best friend Brady pushing all of that, but with how he had grown up, Sam felt he was due some kind of breakdown, and it had felt good to let go for a little while. So, when Sam beat Dean in that first chugging contest, it became a whole different ball game. Now every time they did it, Dean was defending his honor. And he defended it about half the time but that night, Sam had won. 

Exhaling quietly in amusement at the absurdity of their routine, Sam spared a glance back towards Dean at the bar. He quickly ducked his head down when he realised Dean and the girl were looking over at him, like Dean was talking about him. Why would you spend time telling the girl you’re trying to bang about your weird kid brother? Maybe she had asked who Dean was there with, just making small talk. 

Yeah, that must be it, Sam thought to himself as he took another swig and realised he’d finished it on the sip before.

Torn between wanting another drink and not wanting to walk into the middle of a Dean Winchester flirt fest, Sam tried to quietly observe his brother again, hoping he would have struck out by now and it would be safe to approach. Peeking out from behind his hair Sam could see them leaning against the high wooden bar quite cozily, and laughing all nice and friendly-like. 

Damn. It looked like Dean was gonna be right about this chick; she was into him. Really, she shouldn’t be surprised. Everyone’s into Dean. And now he was gonna have to sleep in the Impala tonight. For once he’d like to just have a drink with his brother and go home (to the motel) and sleep in his own (motel) bed. Just perfect. 

*

When Dany turned around to acknowledge Dean, who had just sidled up behind her at the bar, she was very pleased with herself. 

Guys are just too simple, she mused. 

“Hi there,” Dean smiled down at her (he was considerably taller, despite her heels), charm turned on full blast. 

“Hey yourself,” she smiled back. She was friendly, but careful not to be too forward. Dean was the kind of guy that felt proud of winning the chase, she could just tell. And considering how forward she was planning on being after she made sure this guy wasn’t an axe-murderer, she figured playing coy for a little wouldn’t hurt. 

“So, this is kind of embarrassing,” Dean leaned down conspiratorially but still had to speak quite loudly to be heard above the noise of the bar. “My brother over there is a little shy.” Dean jerked his head behind him, to indicate where he had left Sam a moment before. 

Taken by surprise, Dany leaned back to look at Sam sitting alone at his high-top, who happened to look over at the two of them at the same time. Sam quickly ducked behind his bangs, trying very hard not to make eye contact. Dany giggled to herself. She had figured this guy was about to chat her up but he was over here asking for his brother who, based on his reaction a second ago, definitely was shy. How cute. 

“And,” Dean continued speaking and pulled Dany back from her thoughts of his shy and cute younger brother, “he wanted me to ask you for your number, so he knows how to get a hold of me tomorrow morning.” 

It took a second, but when the penny dropped Dany burst out laughing. Dean beamed, proud of his choice in pick-up lines, and let Dany get the giggles out of her system. “I know, I’m adorable.” Dean shrugged as if to say ‘what can you do?’ and leant back against the bar, bringing himself closer to Dany’s level. “I’m Dean.” He held out his hand and she took it, still stifling the last of her laughter. 

“Well, let me congratulate you on your originality Dean. I genuinely have not heard that one before.”

“Do I get a prize?” Dean’s eyebrows arched cheekily. 

“I don’t know,” Dany shrugged. “What do I get out of this deal?”

“Sweetheart, you get whatever you want.” 

“How about we start with a drink?” 

“Sure your friends won’t mind me taking up all your time?” 

Dany looked behind her to where she’d left her friends. They were all giggling and looking at her and Dean at the bar but trying to look like they weren’t paying attention to them at all. She shook her head despairingly at how unsubtle they were. Her friends were the worst. But she supposed they had more of a vested interest in how her night went than usual. Tonight was her dare night. 

“I think they can live without me for a little while.” 

*

“Wow, you’re really putting ‘em back sweetheart,” Dean laughed as Dany drained another beer. She was matching him round for round. 

“Well, I came out to have a good time tonight,” Dany shrugged, smiling mischievously. 

“How’s that working out for ya’ so far?”

“I’d say, so far so good, Dean.” 

Dean made finger guns at the empty glasses. “Get you another?” 

“Yeah, thanks,” she grinned as tucked her hair behind her ear. 

Dean rocked up to the bar and motioned to the haggard looking student behind it that he was after refills. When something brushed against his shoulder he jumped, reaching under his jacket until he realised it was just Sam. 

“Hey,” Dean drew out the ‘y’ on the end of his word. “Ma’ man Sam.” Dean smacked Sam’s shoulder and his brother tried to tamp down his bemused grimace. 

“How buzzed are you, dude?”

“Just the right amount Sammy,” Dean grinned wolfishly as he accepted the new beers from the bartender. The kid tried to take Sam’s order but Sam brushed him off. “Woah, you’re not tapping out?” Dean’s concern was almost comical. 

“Yeah, I’m just gonna go back to the motel. Grab some shut eye.” Sam tried to sound sage, like he was making this move because it was the smart, responsible thing to do, and not let on that it was his loneliness driving him home too early for Dean’s approval. 

“No, come on man, I’m not letting you be a sap tonight.” Dean waved over to the bartender for another beer, over Sam's objections. “N- listen. You’re gonna take this beer, bring it over to my table with Dany, and we’re gonna pick you out one of her friends.” Again, Sam tried to protest but there was a cold glass sloshing into his hand and a commanding grip on his shoulder and… he was always gonna follow Dean. “They’re all college chicks Sam. One of them has gotta be geeky enough for you.” 

When Sam got dragged to the edge of the table where Dean had left Dany a moment ago, something felt off. Sure he felt a little awkward becoming the third wheel while Dean sealed the deal on his sleeping arrangements for that evening but that wasn’t what he noticed the most. Dany looked far too happy to have the extra company at the table. Most girls with Dean in their tractor beams didn’t want anyone interfering, he’d been on that end of the stick one too many times to forget how it felt. But Dany was relaxed and smiling, beaming even, when Dean pushed Sam into a chair between them. 

Sam tried to settle into the easy conversation that Dany and Dean were having but he’s too preoccupied trying to suss Dany out to contribute much, despite Dany’s attempts to bring him into the discussion. 

“So Sam, Dean said you were the college goer in your family, what did you study?” Dany sipped her beer with her eyes trained on Sam. 

“Uh, pre-law,” Sam’s answer turned up at the end like a question. He wasn’t questioning what he studied at Stanford but he was questioning Dany’s motives in talking to him. Why wasn’t she just ignoring him and flirting with Dean? 

“Ah, smart guy. Interesting.” 

“What are you studying?” 

“Media and communications. I want to go into news or television.” 

“Well you definitely have the face for it,” Dean cut in smoothly. Dany flushed but she didn’t look embarrassed. She knew what she looked like. 

“Okay captain obvious,” Dany laughed. “You usually try this hard to get girls?”

Sam snorted into his beer, highly amused someone was calling Dean on his shit besides him. 

“Well I’m sitting here drinking with a beautiful woman. I don’t see any reason to pull punches,” Dean grinned. “Speaking of,” he leant forward craftily, “you got any other beautiful friends we can hook him up with?” Dean jerked his thumb towards his little brother. “I feel bad leaving him high and dry for the night.” 

“Dean!” Sam objected loudly, rolling his eyes. Dany just giggled. 

“Yeah I think I can help with that.” She drained her remaining drink and stood up. “Let me grab us one more round.” 

“Sounds great sweetheart,” Dean swatted at her ass as she passed him on the way back to the bar, ignoring Sam’s further objections to Dean’s new-found mission to get him laid. 

“Dude what are you doing?” 

“Helping you!”

“I don’t want your help!”

“Well trust me, you need it.”

“Do not!”

Sam’s objections were cut short when Dany returned with three beers and three shots on a tray; one clear and two amber. Dean reached for the drinks to help her unload. “What are we celebrating sweetheart?” He nodded to the shots. 

“We’ll find out soon,” Dany hedged, without giving up any more details. “So Sam, what’s your type?” 

Sam nearly choked on his beer. “Look Dany, ignore Dean please, I don’t need-” 

“No, come on, I’m invested now. What are you into? Boobs? Ass? Both?” Dany’s questions were curious but clinical. None of the teasing that Dean usually injected into the conversation when he tried to get Sam to open up about his sex life. Something in her tone was compelling. 

“Are we actually having this conversation?” Sam glanced between Dean and Dany astonishedly. “Did you slip something in my drink?” 

Dany laughed at Sam’s attempts to deflect but she could also see something in his face twitch, like his brows tugged up the corners of his lips. Something in him wanted to answer the question, wanted to open up to her. So she pushed. 

“Well?” 

Sam chuckled once ruefully, more to himself. Cracked his neck and settled back in his chair. Dany could tell he’d made up his mind, he was playing now. 

“Both,” Sam smirked. He was invested now too, and he wanted to see where Dany was taking this. Plus, it had been ages since he’d gotten any. 

“Okay,” Dany nodded and processed the information, deciding how that affected her line of questioning. Dean was keeping to himself in his corner, but he was having trouble hiding his grin behind his beer. This was already more than he’d ever been able to tease out of Sam. 

“Okay, so, not specific about body type, what about attitude? Feisty and forward?” Dany leant forward and trailed her finger down Sam’s arm. He smirked. “Or shy, and sweet?” She withdrew her hand, and ducked behind her hair. 

“Okay, why do I feel like I’m getting shut out here?” Dean laughed from his over his drink, not sounding as cocky as he hoped he did. 

“Don’t worry Dean, I’m not letting you go anywhere,” Dany smirked. “I’m just doing what you asked, making sure Sam here is sorted out for the night too.” Dany turned her smile back to Sam. “So which one? You like feeling in charge? Or you like getting a little roughed up like Dean over here?”

Now it was Dean’s turn to choke on his beer. “Excuse me sweetheart, what makes you think-”  

“Come on Dean,” Dany batted her eyes back in his direction. “I know what you’re after. I know you’re a boob man, that’s why you picked me. Your pick up lines and bravado, they’re looking for validation. You’re looking after your little brother, trying to make sure he’s happy, taken care of… you want someone to do the same thing for you.” 

Sam and Dean were both a little speechless. Dany reached past her empty beer and grabbed the shot glass with the clear liquor. 

“You sure you don’t actually study psychology or something?” Sam drained the last of his beer, impressed. 

“I’m not a shrink,” Dany smiled and shrugged. “I’ve just spent some time with some people, I know what to look out for.” 

“So, who are you picking out for me then?” Sam leant forward, now profoundly interested in what Dany may have deduced about what he wants in the bedroom. 

“Come clean time,” Dany knocked back her shot with a grimace and let the courage that came from lower inhibitions bubble up. “My friends and me, we play a game most weeks, pick a dare out of a hat. This week mine… was ‘have a threesome.’” Dany peeked up from behind her hair to look at Dean, who looked like he had just won the lottery. Sam’s expression was cautious. 

“Okay, so who else we taking home with us sweetheart?” Dean rubbed his hands together and turned to look back at Dany’s group of friends.  

“Sam.” Dany answered simply. 

“Which one’s Sam?” Dean was still scanning the group of coeds. 

“Uh Dean, I think she means me…” 

“My dare was a threesome with two guys.” For the first time that evening, Dany’s grin was a little sheepish. “Look I uh- I’m not just doing this because of the dare, it’s not coercion or anything. I wouldn’t be asking you both back if I didn’t want it.” 

Dean hadn’t found his voice yet. He was just staring at Dany, mind clearly running a mile a minute, and resolutely not looking at Sam. Sam, on the other hand, couldn’t take his eyes off Dean. The only recognisable emotion on Sam’s face was the tinge of fear in his eyes, like he was waiting for the bomb to go off, and getting more and more anxious by the second the longer it didn’t. 

“Why don’t I give you guys a minute to talk,” Dany stood up and pushed the shots she had bought towards them, “and I’ll go grab my purse and meet you by the door?” 

“And by ‘you’, you’re speaking in the strictly plural sense?” Sam checked, fingering the whisky in front of him. 

“That’s up to you guys,” Dany smiled and rounded the table, dragging her fingers over Dean’s shoulders on her way back to her friends. That seemed to be enough to jumpstart Dean back into speaking.

“Dude what the hell?” Dean’s voice was so, so close to a squeak, Sam really had to hold in his laughter. 

“What?” Sam was good at poking the bear. 

“What do you mean what? What the fuck?” 

“Yeah, I think that’s what she wants Dean. She wants to fuck.” 

“Yeah with me and my little brother!” Sam could tell Dean wanted to be shouting but he was keeping his voice to a hiss as best he could. 

“Yeah, so?”

“So?!” 

God Dean was so easy to wind up, Sam grinned. “Dean, have you never had a threesome before?” 

“Uh, yeah, of course.” 

“You’re lying,” Sam was astonished. He figured of course Dean would have done this kind of thing before. “You’ve never done one before?” Sam had to double check. 

“What, like you have?” Dean defended angrily. 

“Uh, yeah,” Sam’s grin was an unusual combination of sheepish but proud. “I um- I have actually, yeah.” Sam reached back and rubbed his neck, at a loss of what to do with his hands right now. 

“What the fuck did you do at that college?” 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me Dean.” 

“Okay, so what, you’re saying you’re okay with this?” 

“I’m saying, there’s a real pretty girl over there by the door that wants to have sex. And she wants it so much, she wants two dicks in the equation.” Sam fixed Dean with a firm, decided stare. And he was pretty sure that Dean’s uncertainty was about to evaporate. Dean finally met Sam’s eyes and Sam saw the fight melt out of him. 

“Son of a bitch,” Dean breathed, then downed his shot.

***

Tags: @negans-lucille-tblr @hawkerz12​ @akshi8278​ @babybrotherandthedemon​ @dylansbabygirl24​ @mineshinamary​ @popsensationnicole23​ @spn-problems​ @donthateme454​  @doyouknowsamw​ @peridottea91​ @delightfulbakeryaliendeputy​ @fictionallemons​

I tagged everyone who liked my ‘announcement’ post. If you want to be tagged or you want me to take you off tags, just lmk!  

[echidnapower]

EP’s FanFiction Master Post

So this is something I should have done a long time ago on my previous account, but better late than never. For those of you who find me, this is going to be a place where you can find all the fics I’ve written over the years. This will be added to over time as I fight to revive my muse.

It’ll be categorized by fandom, so you can quickly find what you do or don’t want to read. Here we go.

Pokemon

A Valentines Dream Come True -  It's Valentines Day, and a certain redheaded Gym Leader is finally getting to enjoy it with the boyfriend of her dreams. During their time together, they get into a little discussion about dreams, and Ash doesn't wanna tell her his! So to get him to spill, she tells him her dreams...when she finally learns Ash's dream...will both their dreams come true? - Based on a drawing from @miyatoriaka​, which can be found HERE.

AAML: Diamond and Pearl Version -  Follow me as I remake the DP episodes in order and in sequence, all so I can add the biggest star besides Ash himself. Misty! Watch her and Ash's love grow as they go on their journey. The absolute LONGEST story in my portfolio, and you will see my writing evolve the longer you go on. Be prepared for a massive read that even now is STILL going.

All I Want For Christmas Is You -  It's Christmas time and the Ketchum household is hosting a party with all of Ash's friends. But while Ash and Misty dance around their feelings for each other, another Sensational Sister is about to find herself in a situation she never could have expected, but she'll be darned if she lets it slip through her manicured fingers. (Spinoff of @hollylu-ships-it​‘s "A Christmas in Kanto" comic which can be found HERE.

Best Friend -  "Why? Why did I have to be so stupid as to make the mistake of falling in love with my best friend?" - Story told in Misty’s POV.

Blessings From Heaven -  I'm Ash Ketchum, and I'm getting married today! But how did this come to be? Through God's devine planning is how. Here's my story: I'm marrying Misty. - Warning for religious themes, told in Ash’s POV.

I Miss You -  Misty misses Ash terribly, and it's affecting her emotionally as she's more irritable than usual, if that was even possible. But Daisy has a plan to get Ash to come and see Misty again. Will her plan have the desired effect? Or will it cause something she never could've seen coming? - Based on a trio of drawings from the long lost Simply-Nicole. The old art can be found on my dA page HERE, HERE, and HERE.

I’m Misty, and You Are? -  Misty tells the story we all know and love...literally. She's telling the story. Based on artwork from the long lost Simply-Nicole, which can be found on my old dA page HERE.

Keep The Faith - This time it's May and Drew getting married, and it takes place in the "Blessings From Heaven" universe. Warning for religious themes.

Looks -  It's Ash's birthday and all of his friends have gathered together in the woods to reminisce on the time they spent traveling with their favorite Pokemon Trainer. But something's about to happen that could change the way that Ash and Misty look at each other forever…the question is, is it for the better?

Lovesick -  Kenny is feeling strange...he feels like he's sick...but is he really ill? Or is he just lovesick?

Madam Zara -  When Misty decides to get experimental with her appearance, she finds herself in the hands of a world-famous beautician named Madam Zara. With most of Misty's makeovers ending less than ideally, will this be the one to shatter the mold? And how will Ash react? - Based on a drawing and idea from @hollylu-ships-it​ which can be found HERE.

Our Own Sunset -  Ash and Misty watch the sunset together, but Misty's bothered by it. - Set in the AAML: Diamond and Pearl version universe.

Pokeshipping Week 2015 - My first time participating in Pokeshipping Week ever, hard to believe it was five years ago.

Pokeshipping Week 2016 - This year of Pokeshipping saw me collab with @hollylu-ships-it​, you can see the art she put together on her Tumblr page.

Symptoms of Love -  Ash and Tracey are hit by a Vileplume's Stun Spore, and Misty has to fend for herself in order to find a cure. But once she gets Ash back to health, Ash still feels many of the same symptoms from before. Why is that?

Tell Me I’m Pretty -  It isn't easy being the youngest sister, especially when your oldest sister is getting married and you're the only one without a date for the once in a lifetime event. Misty can't help but feel like she doesn't measure up somehow, but a surprise visit from her closest friend is sure to make her feel pretty once more. - Inspired by THIS piece from @hollylu-ships-it​.

The Road Not Taken -  When Ash gets some bad news from home, he goes into a depression and starts doubting both himself and the choices he's made. But luckily, someone is there with him to remind him he's loved and cared about. - Based on yet another drawing from @hollylu-ships-it​. Look at it HERE.

Warmth -  It's New Years Eve, and the recently married Ash and Misty Ketchum are ready to host their first ever holiday party at their home together, but when a snowstorm makes it so no one can arrive safely, Misty is saddened. But will they really end up spending their New Years Eve alone? Or will surprise visitors warm their hearts?

Super Robot Monkey Team Hyperforce Go

Iron Girl -  A robot girl who hates the fact she's a robot...will she realize just how important she is or will she continue to simply wallow in self-pity?

War Between the Living and the Dead -  The war between the living and the dead has begun, and the Hyperforce has to go up against their biggest challenge yet. But with help from their allies across the galaxy, they can triumph! Or can they? This is my take on what Season 5 would've been, plugging plotholes and making sense out of a series that left us all hanging.

Buzz Lightyear of Star Command

Reflections of a Legend -  Buzz Lightyear Personal Log - Stardate 92893.81. I don't quite know how to explain this, or what I'm feeling, so I guess I'll just start talking and tell you what's on my mind. There's someone I just can't get out of my head, and truthfully, I'm not sure I want to. - This is a first-person dive into Buzz’s character.

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Kim Possible

Angels Watching Over Me -  Kim and Ron are going down a dark path that could eventually end in their own destruction...literally, not figuratively. When the Sloth dangles over a cliff that holds their fate in the balance, who will come in their time of need? How about...someone they never could have dreamed? - Based on a true story, warning for religious themes.

Busted -  Hana wants cookie, Hana tries to get cookie, Hana gets caught trying to get cookie.

The Running Back -  All-star Running back Ron Stoppable is about to face the biggest challenge of his life. He's got just a few seconds to win the championship for the Middleton Mad Dogs, but more importantly to him, he's got just a few seconds to make his girlfriend proud.

The True Meaning -  Both Ron and Kim are well aware of the true meaning of Christmas, and that's why they're volunteering at a church's Bethlehem Revisited event to spread the word. Kim's happy to help and all, but...why is Ron calling her such a weird name? - Warning for religious themes.

Trick or Treat -  Kim is pulling a trick on Ron, will it be a great treat, or is he about to suffer the wrath of Kim Possible? He has no clue, yet.

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Fillmore!

A Promising Tomorrow -  Takes place immediately after the end of the episode "A Forgotten Yesterday." Fillmore's lost two of his old friends now and needless to say, he's tired of losing people to the darkness he was lucky enough to escape from. Luckily, Ingrid's there to show him that his efforts to rehabilitate his delinquent friends haven't exactly gone to waste. There's one person who's benefited.

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Miraculous Ladybug

You’re Loved -  Adrien Agreste, Chat Noir, different identities but more alike than he would like to admit. No matter who he becomes at any given time, there's always something very important missing in his life. Will he ever find what he's looking for? Or is it possible he's always had it and never realized it?

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Beyblade

We Are One -  Kai gave it his all battling against Brooklyn and his bit-beast Zeus. Now, after his close brush with death, Kai must summon the strength to go and support Tyson before disaster strikes the world. But there's no way he's strong enough to do it on his own...but thankfully, he won't have to, which is what Kai is about to learn. Sister story to "I Can't Lose You."

I Can’t Lose You -  A week after Tyson's battle against the evil bit-beast Zeus and his trapped blader Brooklyn, the world is slowly making its way back to normal. Kai managed to survive and is recovering in the hospital, and Tyson is getting some much-deserved rest. But when Kenny comes to tell Tyson that Hilary has quit the team, he loses it, and goes to find out why. My first Beyblade story.

Save a Dance For Me -  With the all new BBA launching with a gala to celebrate the occasion, Tyson finds himself in the uncomfortable position of needing to ask someone to be his date. He has someone in mind, but will his greatest beyblading rival get in his way and turn out to be his greatest rival in love?

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Teen Titans

Healing Touch -  With several Titans pairing up, the lingering emotions are taking a toll on Raven's empathic senses and causing her to lose control of her own feelings. When she gives in and does something completely crazy, it's up to Beast Boy to pull her out of a dark place and bring her back to the light. - There is accompanying artwork from @hollylu-ships-it HERE and HERE.

More Than a Hero -  I've learned a lot of lessons under Batman, he taught me everything I would ever need to know about being a superhero, about being Robin...but Starfire taught me how to be Dick Grayson, and she taught me how to fly. - Story from Robin’s POV, accompanying artwork from @hollylu-ships-it​ is HERE.

Robin Rising -  Life is good for Dick Grayson, he's the leader of a team of superheroes he's blessed enough to call his family, and he's about to turn 18 which he figures will open up a whole new world of possibilities for him. But when his old mentor and "father" calls in, showing that he captured a criminal that had eluded the Titans forever, things get flipped upside-down. - Multichapter fic which is part of a much larger universe, plenty of accompanying artwork can be found over on @hollylu-ships-it​‘s account. Go give her a follow and fav.

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Sonic the Hedgehog

A Light in Darkness -  A small band of heroes go back in time to try and prevent a cataclysmic event that would eventually destroy all of creation as they knew it. But what is the nature of this threat? How dangerous is it? And how far will they have to go in order to stop it from viciously destroying all they hold dear? Features a deep cast of Sonic characters, and a very special OC owned by @e-vay​

Anonymous -  For Shadow the Hedgehog, Christmas doesn't mean what it means to his friends and the rest of the world. Instead, he has a self-appointed mission he needs to carry out. But this year, he may find something that he's never really had before, and it could change the way Shadow sees Christmas for the rest of his life.

Christmas Wishes -  For ten years, Amy Rose has only wanted one thing for Christmas, and she's finally come to accept the reality that she'll never receive it. But a conversation with Rouge rekindles her hope and her Christmas spirit. Will she be let down again? Or will her one wish finally come true this year? Read to find out. (Sister story to my other story titled "Anonymous")

Comfort In the Storm -  When a thunderstorm strikes and leaves Cream quivering in fright, it's up to Tails to find a way to alleviate his crush's fears, and maybe even give her a reason to enjoy thunderstorms instead of fearing them.

Cream Adventure DX: Author’s Cut -  A redo of an old story. Cream finds a strange statue in the meadow, and she knows just who to go to to figure out what it is, but she gets more than she bargained for when she goes looking for him. What happens?

Dreams of an Absolution - Silver lays awake at night and reflects on his life in this apocalyptic world Iblis has destroyed...but most of his reflections revolve around a certain fire girl with lavender fur. He wants to be happy with her, but a warzone is a bad place to kindle love, and so every night he lays awake, and dreams of an absolution.

Relations -  Knuckles has a problem. He's in love...but...that presents a very unique problem...or does it?

Running to the Point of No Return -  Sonic is the fastest thing alive, and Amy is told that that's the biggest obstacle keeping her and Sonic away from each other. But what's she supposed to do to keep up with him, when there's NO ONE fast enough to keep up with him?

Scars -  Some things that happen in life leave scars behind that go with us for the rest of our lives. For Miles "Tails" Prower, such a thing happened to him in the depths of space many years ago...the loss of his first true love...though the pain weakens and the scars fade, they never go away completely, and Tails has learned to live with and embrace that fact.

Seven Rings and Five Fingers In Hand -  A redo of the final battle in Sonic and the Secret Rings, Sonamy style!

The Heart of Chao - Chao are adorable little creatures, and they make great pets for anyone who's looking for something to take care of. But there's more to chao than just being cute, they're filled with more heart and love than anyone can imagine, and that can sometimes lead to bringing others closer together. Here are just a few stories of that very thing happening to our favorite characters.

Trapped In This Machine -  Sonic has seemingly fallen madly in love with Amy, but is this sudden romance truly sincere, or is it only skin deep, hiding something sinister underneath? - Inspired by a drawing from @e-vay​, found HERE.

[noxyfied]

This, is Noxy/Noxyfied/Nox. This is the character I identify as online, and I want to tell you my story with this adorable Arctic Fox because it is one heck of a tale from not so long ago

Things did begin rough at the beginning of my persona’s history. I honestly can’t recall how I came up with it, only how I inserted my love for something and went with it.

From the early years of 2017 to 2019 I was all paper and pencil. Ah yes traditional art was my big thing for a couple of years during that era of 2013 to 2020. I had a time where I wrote stories about characters I made, and not much. No fan art, no nothing, I wanted to stick to my own original ideas at first before I took the step to do something that I did not own; it was a weird mindset I know, I couldn’t hold myself to want to be original and develop to be good enough to draw other things.

It took me some time to develop, hell even to this day I still am unsure of my own skills but I enjoyed trying new things. I don’t reject much criticism even if it comes harsh it still lingers in my head when received anyway. I needed someone to identify as online, a persona who I would have an identity through as I was moving forward on this hopeful career I want to make with my art.

Idea #1 draw my own self accurate to how I look 

Scratch that...

Nononono, I am too bad at showing my face, even at that I don’t like myself.

So I had to come up with something else, 2019 was ending with my skills rising up to something neat. I had Fire alpaca and a wacom cheap tablet which I used time to time back then, and with how I moved foward I said “why not, lets draw a glaceon.

Not bad, not bad. I do enjoy anthropomorphic animals, and for a anthro Glaceon it wasn't so bad. Even back then I did not enjoy much of this picture but the idea sparked. I did roleplay around online a lot as a Glaceon. People always had referred to me as a Glaceon when talking, because furry friends tend to be like that and I don’t mind. It had definitely sparked the idea of identifying as one for my persona.

I had a hard time how I would draw this character, a more personalized Glaceon with my own flare of the art style I carry should be nice, should I make it tall? short? anthro? feral? the questions rose up. Even more as time passed, took some time unsure of it, Unluckily I had a Glaceon FURsona, not a persona. (Yes those were two separate things as I carried 7 fursonas as individual characters in their own stories).

But soon one day in class, my artsy self was bored and it just sparked.

This is it! yes! I love it! something about this just clicked for some reason, it was like nothing I had seen before I could not look away at it, this was it.

After class I went home and played some games. The idea was there but man am I tired. Things did go slow, but not for long as of January, the classes I took gave me the ability to better understand this Adobe Photoshop, an amazing tool for editing pictures but also... To draw?!? I have heard of using Photoshop to draw but was amazed to have the ability using such program. During my time 2019 I would doodle around on Photoshop in my school or at home (thanks to the campus giving me a cheaper prize to use it for assignments) Not bad, not bad, the program was for sure something nice to use. Look! I even drew my Fursonas there too, ain’t that nice

2019 was something for sure. It had just begun making 2020 quite the year as I took my wacom tablet, opened Photoshop, and on January there it was.

Oh how cute! I felt so proud of myself, firealpaca was nothing like how clean and pretty Photoshop was, I was amazed at this ability.

“I made this?” that would be what I ask myself everyday. Time to time I would, and still, look at my phone to my drawings and remember what I used to make some pieces, I will not forget how I used thick outlines with the line too from photoshop, added some depth on the eyes. But most importantly, I had a persona, and I introduced it

My friends loved it, I could not believe I am starting to do the shift, my days of traditional art were at a halt. Not at a complete stop since I do use traditional art for a few other things of course, this was just my main focus now.

This little creature was everything to me, cute, easy to make, helped me throughout a few months as I practiced with my digital art.

I also perfected it’s look, but something looked rather familiar about it. Could not put my finger to it, so I went on drawing it.

that was a few exceptions where I shifted the proportions for “it”

“It” “it” what was this thing supposed to be, I myself was unsure how to identify myself with this persona. Male? no, female? no. The issue was there, who am I really inside, who was my persona gonna be.

I still cannot tell you exactly what my persona was for the longest time. I at times felt lost and confused with my identity, it did not help that 2020 did its mumbo jumbo and a pandemic happened, it was a lot of time on my own at home just questioning really who I had been for the longest time. Classes were minimal so my free time was big around April and May.

I was always unsure of who I was exactly, through my early years late 2000′s I had in me that my body was uncomfortable for looking the way it did, 2010′s went silent but there was something in me I did not understand. why did I feel this way, why do I feel as I am not happy with who I am, and who I identify with.

This persona was the wake up call to who I really wanted to be. I saw it in me that I knew being a male was the main issue in me feeling unhappy. Throughout my life I did not enjoy masculinity as much as other kids, yeah I had some boy traits but it was rather minimal, I enjoyed other things more. I enjoyed a lot of things about being female it was something I had never seen before. as hard or confusing things tend to be from me to explain, its a rather hard thing for myself to explain. But that how it felt “confusing” I researched and looked for things and to my conclusion I had come to be, I come to identify as a MtF trans.

I felt relieved in me of it and I already enjoyed my days more after from it. The only issue is “who do I tell..?” I was timid to tell this to anyone, friends or even family. Especially family, those I come to admit they will never be told of what my decision was because of how hard headed they are. It is a tragic story to tell since most families are such closed minded people of rejecting others.

“My friends tho, my friends? I would feel bad if I told them” that was the mindset I had for a while before admitting to them time to time, one by one. This was a chapter in my life that had changed me early 2020′s but I felt a lot of joy in me to be who I wanted to be, I no longer took anyone else's guidance for controlling who I am, I just went with my own flow.

My persona was.... more comically confused, it could be either so I just left it how my mood wanted it to go for when drawing it. So, things went well, in 2019 with the money I got I found myself enjoying a lot of second handed games, with a game coming real soon that had me pumped for I had to get a console I wanted for so long

A PS4 for the the Final fantasy 7 Remake, I was so pumped waiting for the game, I got a used PS4 for it and even bought couple other games for it to get to know the console: Final fantasy 15, destiny, and later on this Persona 5 game a lot of people talked about. Hmm ok, well lets try it out and oh me oh my, a few days later:

The art style captivated me, can you tell I went all out to trying anything with my persona? I cannot believe I was my own guinea pig for these sorts.

Going around some friends and they will tell you that I used this pfp quite a lot back then, as well as updating it with a new oc I had come up with

A tale in due time will be told about this gal.

well, it was set and forth that this was me, my persona, this glaceon was who I was. People loved it, my friends really liked it, and I had a blast having this first pure year of digital art only. Meeting new friends, and admiring their art. Having old friends come back, and even losing a few others on the way. During the time of june, to July I was rapid about drawing my persona in many ways, short, tall, anthro, feral

even metallic.

 But there come some time I did not grew tired of. But a little worried that I had to rely on a franchise for my own identity, of course there is nothing wrong for those doing it. But reflecting on myself, back then when I wanted this art career to happen, I wanted to go all out letting out my imagination  with my own creations. I had to make the decision, it was time to move on...

...To a new art program and new drawing tablet

No, it wasn’t that. I had to branch out from this Glaceon, but keep my identity, my legacy of this persona in check, but with a new coat of paint of course. did not take a long time before choosing that I had to use a real life animal as inspiration for this change. Something at least close to it, ah yes of course! the inspiration of the Glaceon was an arctic fox, well those are some good stepping stones to begin with so what happened one day is that I began sketching, not before saying good bye to this old self that helped me begin. It was weird, this is me but it was old me?

Tested the new Brushes from this amazing program called Clip studio paint, and I gotta say I love the program. Sincerely the best choice I made to leave Photoshop for this.

At last, this is it. the new Me!

Familiar looking isn’t it,baby steps we can say.

I cannot blame the people for calling my new persona a “Glaceon-alike”

I headed to the right direction stepping away from it, but it was hard to let go

new program, new tablet, new me. the later half of 2020 went onto a lot of changes with myself, the chibi small version did not make me happy to make anymore, I was losing the touch and with the few comments I got of looking like a “powerpuff girl look a like” did set me off to do a drastic change I am thankful to do. This new me had some weird phases, don’t we all tho?

where else to brainstorm than back to the traditional old ways. Now, you may see this and ask what was I thinking when making this. the order of when i started and finish goes as: Top right: ok what if it was feral, nah nah scratch. Top left: Can I still make it cute with a round face and features I had from before? ew no! that looks scary Bottom right: lets make it more natural and wow hey! yes yes yes! this looks hundred times better. Bottom left: It is time I go all out and make it humanoid, it was how I found myself enjoying drawing most things but still did some anthropomorphic things. I was just not the best of it.

Back to digital and.... Amazing, I really out did myself this time, lets go for it, lets keep going with this

I even got a cool sword too!

My practice continued from here, the second half was great and fun. New persona got me in a place where I was happy with and through October and December I was having a blast with the more possibilities with it. I went on to practice with even more suggestive things after a life drawing class I took, proportions mattered to me and with this new persona I went out to make more better looking proportions that were attractive and stylish.

This persona was great, and I managed to make so much of it. even Drawing the more suggestive stuff had left me with an answer for this persona. Just make it gender fluid, my selection for this character being male or female made me so tired I did not know why I just made it gender fluid since the beginning. My mood swings for this character, and I can’t resist drawing it either way. Was I finished? of course not, this persona still had some work around to do. The hair became a pain to make to keeping up with  consistently.

2020 ended, with a year of exciting new things coming for this new year. I went through quite a lot in my life and my art career took a shaken with this new digital life style, my persona became the identity I saw myself through, something im happy with drawing to represent Me.

That isn’t to say that I gave up on drawing Me Me.

I drew who I hope to be, and will use this from time to time, nothing fancy but something.

It has been a year already since I began identifying myself with this persona from last year from now. ever since I sketched that doodle in class, it has been a happy trip through memory lane writing it and I am happy how things turned out. 2021 is what I hope to be as good as 2020 was (by that I mean drawing only of course) In 2021 one more change was made that had made me just as happy to continue on with.

I got more hair! as crazy as it is yes. More hair, and a different front style has been to this day what I been using.

I even made a discord emoji for all the warm hugs to have with my fursona!

and my first ever animation I have ever done before!!

I am always experimenting new things, and i’m proud to be an artists to go out there and leave my art out there to be noticed by anyone. The love and appreciation friends and others leave me are the best thing I could ask. I look foward to see what is up ahead, for me, my career, and Noxy.

[kalypsichor]

five’s a crowd [ beatles x reader ] chapter nine

summary: George fancies himself to be Sherlock and drags you along with him, determined to figure out why Ringo’s been acting so weird lately. What you find changes everything.

warnings: 2.7k of an emotional rollercoaster

i’m sorry. notes at end of chapter

You float through the next few days on a bit of a cloud. George doesn’t see Maureen again, which you know you should be bummed about since he’s your friend and all, but… okay, you admit it. You don’t like them together. It’s nothing against Maureen, of course, and everything due to you being a shitty friend.

Wait… that’s it. You’re sitting on the steps leading up to your building and, jumping up, you almost hit your head on the railing. That weird, acidic feeling that sat in the pit of your stomach and reared into your throat whenever Maureen had laughed or George had put an arm around her… that was because you didn’t want to lose George’s friendship. It all makes sense now. And sure, although you admit that it’s not healthy to be so possessive of a friend, it’s better than the idea that you could possibly be… possibly be in…

“Love? What’re you doing out here?”

You know who it is before you turn around. Still, your heart catches in your throat, and you can’t help feeling like you were just caught doing something you shouldn’t be.

“Just enjoying the nice weather,” you say, smiling at George as he joins you on the steps. Are you smiling too wide? Is it too forced? Fuck, you’ve forgotten how to smile, what’s happening to you??? “How ‘bout you?”

George bumps his shoulder lightly into yours. “Was wonderin’ where my friend went. Have you seen her? She’s about yea high, can’t play Clue for shite-”

“Hey! I’ll have you know that I’m very good at Clue. Better than you, at least.”

“Hm, but who was it that won Monopoly at Game Night?”

“You were cheating!”

You grin at each other and it’s so… natural. Yes, this is natural, this is just good ol’ banter between good ol’ friends. And being so jealous of Maureen had been stupid; how could you have possibly doubted the bond between you and George? The bond which has kept you together through thick and thin, through all your ups and downs…

Ever since that first night you met him.

***

Uni was nothing like the movies.

For one, there were no cliques or anything like that. People were generally nice and welcoming.

Which made the fact that you were feeling so out of place at this party even more pathetic.

Your roommate, a bubbly theatre performance major named Jane, had convinced you to come—well, her exact words were that you needed to “stop sitting on your arse and get out of the dorm a little”—and you weren’t having a bad time. You just weren’t having much of a good one, either. The music was loud yet also unintelligible and the flat, which belonged to some third years, was stuffy and packed with way more people than should be legally possible.

So, there you were, nursing a cup of Sgt. Pepper and trying to find somewhere that didn’t smell like B.O.

People kept on bumping into you, making your drink slosh around dangerously close to the top, and you kept on apologising for some fucking reason. Eventually, a set of double doors caught your eyes. It led to a porch of some sort, and just the thought of fresh air was already making your breathing easier. With quick, careful steps, you made your way through the throng of people and into the warm summer air.

It’s so dark out that you don’t notice there’s someone else on the porch until he turns, melting right out of the shadows and startling you a little.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you…”

The stranger just blinked at you, looking as though he was about to scowl but suddenly forgot how.

“Er, I’ll just find somewhere else to, uh, sulk.”

You made to leave but froze at the feeling of a grip on your wrist. Your gaze followed the long, almost elegant fingers to a tense shoulder. A bobbing Adam’s apple. Dark eyes which widened comically when he suddenly snatched his hand back as though burned.

“Stay. Sorry. I thought you were someone else.” When he noticed your shocked expression, he quickly backpedaled. “I mean, you don’t /have/ to stay. You can. I’m not tryin’ to tell you, uh… I’m…” The boy sighed and slumped forward, his next words more to himself than you. “Jesus Christ.”

Normally you’d sprint the other way if you accidentally found yourself alone with a complete stranger, but something drew you to join him, drew you to stand shoulder to shoulder and drape your arms over the railing. Something, something… you weren’t sure what. You would figure it out eventually, probably.

“Well, it’s an honor to meet you, Jesus. I’m a big fan of your work.”

His head turned slightly, dark mop of hair shifting and parting in the breeze. When your eyes met, you both started laughing, the sound carrying over the din of the party behind you.

And when he told you his name, and you told him yours, they fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

***

George brings you out of your reverie, calling your name softly. You shake your head and try to swipe away the cobwebs of that fond memory.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about something.”

He grins and shoves a hand in his pocket, bringing out his phone. “I’ve been doing a little thinking of my own, too. Have you noticed how Ringo’s been sorta sus recently?”

Huh. You think back to Ringo's odd behavior last Sunday, and how he’d come back from supposedly walking dogs with a grin that lasted til dinner. Dogs are cute, obviously, and you’d die for one in an instant, but you’ve never seen them have that kind of an effect on Ringo.

“Yeah, I guess. Do you know why?”

“No, but!” George accentuated the ‘but’ with an adorably excited wag of his finger. “I know how we can figure it out… using the wonders of technology!” George’s phone is shoved in your direction and you blink at the familiar yellow app glowing right back at you.

“... Snapchat?”

“Ringo left half an hour ago to do some more ‘dog walking’,” cue air quotes, “and I was thinking we could try and figure out what he’s really up to.”

It takes your brain a few seconds to process this. “Wait, but—shouldn’t his location be turned off?”

“Yeah, it should be. I tell him to do it all the time, 'cept he doesn’t know how. Anyway, it’ll come in handy now.”

“Wait wait wait.” You bring up a hand and slowly move the phone out of the way so you can meet George’s eyes. “You’re talking about stalking your friend.”

“Our friend,” George corrects. “And it’s not really stalking if he’s so easy to find.”

“Say that a little louder, Geo, I don’t think the police heard you.”

“Listen, there’s no harm in it. If Ringo’s really telling the truth, we’ll get to see some cute dogs. And if not, we can catch him red-handed doing… something sketchy!”

You want to say no, partly because this is a crazy plan and partly because you weren’t too keen on spending your afternoon on a wild goose chase. But with your exams over, you really haven’t got anything else to do.

Also, you just can’t bring yourself to let down that adorable anticipation on George’s face.

“Fine. But!” This time it’s your turn to jab a finger in his direction. “If it’s the mafia or something, I’m using your skinny arse as a human shield.”

George frowns. It’s more of a pout, really, and you privately think that it puts Paul’s to shame. “First of all, it’s not skinny. Second,” he grabs your hand and starts pulling you along the sidewalk, “we’re losing daylight! The game is afoot, dear Watson!”

You can’t help but laugh, even as you’re being unceremoniously dragged along. “Why do you get to be Sherlock?”

George lets go of your hand (you are not disappointed, you’re not) and turns up the collar of his jacket, sending you a sly grin. “It’s the cheekbones. Benadryl Cucumber could cut glass with those things, y’know.”

As you look at George’s side profile, platonically admiring his sharp jawline and defined nose, you can’t help but agree. Personally, though, you think that his cheekbones put Beelzebub Cabbagepatch’s to shame.

***

The problem is that Ringo keeps on moving. Sure, you have Google Maps, but you can’t exactly put in a destination because Ringo doesn’t even seem to have one. George isn’t any less directionally challenged than you, so for the past half hour you’ve both been just walking in the vague cardinal direction of Ringo’s last location.

“Consider this,” you say, huffing a little from the endless walking. Okay, so maybe you should get out of the apartment and, god forbid, exercise more. “What if he’s actually walking a dog? He’s moving around enough to be doing it.”

George comes to a sudden stop and you smack right into him, nose squashing momentarily against the back of his jacket before. Before you can withdraw from the warmth of George’s body, though, you catch a whiff of something—clean laundry, fresh linen, George—and you’re overwhelmed by a sudden, ridiculous urge to press into him again.

“There’s got to be something going on,” he insists. “Ringo can barely wash his hands with that cast on, much less walk dogs. Don’t you think?”

You nod, but really only because you’ve suddenly forgotten how to speak.

“Wait, look! He’s walking around in circles now… think he’s at some sort of park. Come on, before we lose him!”

And then George is taking your hand again, sprinting across the street with no warning. You can’t bring yourself to mind. His palm is so warm against yours, fingers intertwining perfectly as though they were made for each other. He lets go when you reach the sidewalk, of course, which is absolutely normal. Friendly. Your fingers don’t suddenly feel cold, not at all.

God, you wanna hold his hand.

You get to the park pretty quickly, which the stitch in your side is grateful for. It’s your run of the mill ordeal: benches, trees here and there, a nice duck pond in the middle of it all. Before you get the chance to look for Ringo’s mop of hair, though, George pulls you into a clump of bushes. Your knees hit the dirt and send a jolt of pain up your leg, making you hiss.

“What the hell, George?”

“Sorry, sorry!” He gives you an apologetic look and his hand finds one of your knees, rubbing little circles where there’s a smear of dirt. Suddenly, you don’t care at all about falling down. “Just wanted to make sure we wouldn’t be seen.”

You huff and glance around. Thankfully, there aren’t any passersby to give you weird looks. “This Sherlock thing is really going to your head. Don’t you think we’re making a big deal out of all this?”

George goes to make a retort—looks a little sheepish, though, so you’ll give him that—but then he freezes. He doesn’t even have to say anything for you to know that he’s spotted Ringo… and that something’s wrong.

Ringo’s walking around the bend of the path that circles the pond, laughing about something. He looks so happy, his laugh so lighthearted, that your own lips twitch upwards at the sight. But then you see what’s making him laugh and the grin disappears.

It’s Maureen.

Ringo’s got his arm around her and they’re looking at each other like nothing else exists. You’ve seen that look many, many times, having to suffer through it whenever John and Paul get very, well, JohnandPaul. It’s not friendly, like you and George, it’s… it’s like love.

You want to pull George away, cover his eyes, anything that could possibly undo this, this… whatever this is. But the damage has already been done. You can see it in how his jaw clenches, how his eyes flash vulnerable before settling on guarded, and how his posture is stiff when he stands up and walks right through the bushes you’re crouched behind.

“George, wait-”

It’s too late. Ringo’s head turns to the sudden commotion and his smile slips away so quickly it’s like it’s been slapped off. He stops in his tracks. Maureen is a second behind, takes another step forward before jolting back when her partner doesn’t move. And when her gaze lands on George, who’s barreling towards them, the emotions on her face are so visible that you almost cringe. Shock, fear, and then, overwhelmingly, guilt.

You don’t have to see Ringo to know he looks the same.

Your feet are carrying you towards them before your brain can catch up, but something stops you a few feet away from the scene. It almost feels like you’re eavesdropping because this has nothing to do with you. Except, you realize, everything concerning George concerns you, too. Because you care about him.

So much.

“Ringo! We were just walking through the neighborhood!” George gestures in your direction and Maureen’s eyes snap to you. You flinch, partly at the motion and partly at the false cheeriness George has inflected into his voice. “You know, she said to me, she said ‘well isn’t that Ringo?’ And I thought, no, it couldn’t be. My best friend wouldn’t go behind my back and take out the girl I was seeing.” His voice cracks halfway through ‘best.’ You know that George notices, because his cheeks have turned a furious, embarrassed pink. “But I guess it really is you.”

Ringo’s eyes stay on George the whole time. They’re really so, so blue and light enough that a part of you fancies you could see George’s reflection in them. They don’t look away, not when George points at you, not even when he’s done speaking. You know, then, that Ringo really cares about George. Loves him, even. And George must know that, right?

“George.” Quiet, restrained. “How did you find us?”

It’s like George doesn’t hear a word. “Did you already have your eyes on her at the bar? The morning after, you were already texting her, right? God, you took her out. The morning after.” His voice breaks again at the last sentence, catching on something sharp and stumbling out of his throat.

There’s nothing to say. Everyone knows the answer, really. It’s obvious—yes, yes, and yes. The silence that stretches between George’s shuddering intake of breath to Ringo’s next words is heavy.

“Did you follow me?”

The atmosphere becomes paper-thin, now. Changes so quickly you feel the breath rush out of you. And George tears right through it.

“Does it fucking matter?” You’ve never heard George sound like this and you know you’ve got to stop it, got to slam on the brakes before it all breaks. But how?

“George-”

“Stop. Just stop, Ritchie.”

That’s when something cracks in Ringo’s eyes. Only his closest friends call him that, Ritchie, and hearing George say it like that, practically spitting it out… even Maureen feels the venom in his tone. She takes a half step forward and Ringo stops her, hand grasping her arm and tugging her back. George sees it and his face falls.

“I’m sorry, George, he was just—being nice to me, that’s all.”

“Nice? Is that what you call it?” George laughs bitterly. “God, I couldn’t even keep you for a day, huh? This is pathetic. I’m-”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, takes a deep breath instead. Runs a shaky hand through his hair. George is angry, trembling with it, but for some reason you almost feel like it’s more towards himself.

“I guess you really were dog-walking, Ritchie. Just didn’t think she’d be a bitch.”

Whatever holds the four of you in place shatters. George stumbles backwards and the regret is already painted all over his face, the shock evident in his wide eyes. Maureen gasps, tearing her arm away from Ringo’s hold to clasp a hand over her mouth. And Ringo—Ringo doesn’t stop her this time. They both know he doesn’t mean it, even you do, but the word still hangs in the air between them. Ringo has always been the slowest to anger, the hardest to rile up, but this time is different. You see a fire rise to his eyes, a line harden around his mouth, a subtle change in his stance.

Still, nothing prepares you for when he rears back and strikes George right across the face.

- - -

notes: 1) i know nothing about college (or i guess “uni”) in england, so some of this is probably so wrong. Like i guess you guys only have three years?? And apparently NO GPA??? So, that was def a mistake on my part in ch six. Also, I guess midterms aren’t a thing. That brings me to 2) this story is taking place during the first semester of their third and final year at uni. Which means they are in… the middle of October! IDK i’m making this tf up rn. Mostly bc I really wanna write a halloween chapter (dee here! We’re making an executive decision to set this before halloween because we NEED christmas feels)

taglist: (wanna be added? dm me or @spaceyantique!)

@1-2beeble @beatlevmania @theclassicsl @withthebeables @thasbooooooi @geostarr @report-abuse

[ralexsol]

On the Subject of Underverse S2

You read that correctly: this is a post about one of the greatest shows ever created, the Undertale animated series Underverse, written/animated by @jakei95​. I have a lot of theories that I’ve been pulling together ever since I watched both Underverse and Xtale (the Underverse prequel series). Maybe one or two have no basis in anything, but for some reason they popped into my head and I’ll stick by them until they’re proven incorrect. I will discuss the possibility of a Geno/Ink fight, Fresh!Ink, XI (you’ll definitely want to read their section!), and the fates of many different characters. This is quite the long post, so buckle up for a long ride.

Let’s begin!

GENO/INK FIGHT:

I’m putting this theory first because it is the least important. At some point in time, I somehow got it into my head that there is supposedly going to be a fight between Geno and Ink. I have no idea where I heard about this, and when I searched for any specific videos or posts about the subject, I found nothing. But I personally think a fight scene between Geno and Ink would be pretty cool, so I’m adding this in here.

FRESK!INK’S EXISTANCE:

This is a more relevant theory. Ever since Jakei announced that Fresh!Ink would be a part of Underverse, I have wondered how he would be incorporated. I don’t know if she means for him to be in the future “Beach Episode” or something more serious. (Of course, I know almost nothing about this supposed “Beach Episode”, which is apparently when Epic!Sans will be showing up, so I really wouldn’t know.) But there is an important thing to remember: Ink and Fresh made a deal in the first season.

Ever since I saw this Underverse - Xtra Scene 2, I have wondered what this “prize” could possibly be. What was Ink’s side of the deal? What did he promise Fresh? Hmm... maybe a new body to take over?

Ink’s body doesn’t have a SOUL- that’s basic “Undertale AU Knowledge 101″. What does this have to do in regards to Fresh? To my best knowledge, the actual parasitic creature True!Fresh feeds off the souls of other creatures to survive. In fact, his soul-feeding would kill his victims if he stayed long enough in one body, but he likes to play it safe and leave his victims alive in case he needs to use their body again. But he wouldn’t need to do this with Ink. Because of Ink’s SOULless nature, Fresh could theoretically feed off his body forever. Some might object that since Ink doesn’t have a SOUL, Fresh wouldn’t be able to feed off him. But then how does Fresh!Ink exist?

So, what was their deal? Fresh watches over the Xtale AU while Ink is gone, and after Cross and X!Chara are taken care of, Ink comes back and lets Fresh take over his body for a little while. There may be something else I’m missing, but the pieces seem to make sense.

XI’S PURPOSE:

For those of you who don’t know who XI is, I suggest you watch this video about Jakei’s Overwrite merch. This is when the character of XI was introduced to us, back on good ol’ April 1st, 2019. Haha, yes, the joke character of XI- funny April Fool’s Day video, a good laugh for everyone. Jakei has made a few comics about XI since then, but overall, XI hasn’t been involved in Xtale or Underverse so far. That has never sat right with me, and I’ve always thought there would be something more to him. I was proven absolutely correct when Xtale - The Movie came out. But before we discuss the little extra scene tagged onto the end of that video, I would like to point out some very interesting facts about XI.

On October 6th, 2019, Jakei posted a traditional speedart. Obviously, the art is gorgeous like always and every time I watch it I wonder if I will ever get to the level of skill she is at. But besides that, there is a very important aspect about this video. In the speedart, Jakei drew two pictures: one of X!Chara and X!Frisk fighting, and one of XI. In XI’s picture, they are depicted in full armor with a magical purple sword & shield.

Hmmm... I wonder who this could possible resemble?

Every time XI is shown, whether it be in comics or artwork, their bangs hang over their eyes. Their armor looks exactly like Kris’s from Deltarune. Heck, they both use a sword and a shield! What does this mean? XI is X!Kris. There is no way to deny this. This is why they are X!Chara’s and X!Frisk’s little sibling. I would also like to point out XI’s silver oval locket. I find it interesting how he has a different piece of jewelry from everyone else- all other important characters in Xtale have a matching golden heart locket. Does XI also have people he has given copies of this necklace to? Perhaps X!Susie and X!Ralsei, if they exist? But XI being X!Kris is only the beginning of this theory. Remember how I mentioned Xtale - The Movie earlier? Take a look at this picture.

This is a five-second frame pegged at the very end of the video, after an entry written in wingdings by Mister XGaster himself. The message is as follows:

Entry Number Eleven: As clear as a reflection in a mirror, I have found the most perfect projection of forbidden visions. Get ready. Your time is coming.

Okay, just whoa. Not only is the entry #11, but the person standing there is XI. Oh, and let’s take a closer look at what they’re holding in their hand.

I knew that silver locket was going to be important. There is no way that XI is not going to play a major part in either Underverse S2 or hmm... maybe a spin-off about the Xtale versions of Deltarune characters? To my knowledge, Jakei has not said anything about her plans after she finishes Underverse. She has her Metadora project, and I am aware that her husband @nyxtheshield​ is planning out his own Undertale series- someone will need to animate that, and I’m sure she would be able and willing to do the job. She has stated that there will be no seasons of Underverse after S2, and the finale will be 1.0. But that doesn’t mean she won’t make a new series. If she does, will it be about all the Deltarune characters? Will the other Xtale characters show up at certain points in it? Will XGaster play a large part in it? There is no way to know, as the idea of a new show is simply drawn from that there may not be enough time in S2 to fully expand what XI is.

In any case, XGaster states in the entry that “your time is coming”. This could either reference a new show or XI’s appearance in Underverse. I find it extremely interesting how XGaster words his message. “The most perfect projection of forbidden visions.” What does that mean exactly? XGaster has seen something in one of his many visions, obviously. The most perfect image of prohibited sights. XI is a person that stands for something that should not be allowed to exist. That makes sense- XGaster, a man, somehow got pregnant and birthed them, as shown in the Overwrite merch video. The “forbidden visions” might imply that he has seen something quite “cursed”, as us modern Internet-users would say. But then he tells this projection to get ready, because their time is coming. XGaster is telling XI to prepare themself. This just proves that XI and XGaster are tied together very closely, and that if XI does get their own series with X!Ralsei and X!Susie, XGaster will be involved.

Whew! That’s a lot of information to take in all at once. This was the big “theory” I wanted to discuss, so now we will move on to the different fates I believe may befall some of our beloved characters.

INK, FOR GOOD OR FOR WORSE?:

Ah, Ink. One of the true protagonists of Underverse. Remember: a protagonist is not necessarily a hero, just one of the leading characters. It has been seen that his story arc is the most important throughout the entire story. He is the one that inspired XGaster. He is the one that made XGaster’s plan succeed. And he very well might be the one to make it fail.

Wait, you’re asking me. I thought he was on XGaster’s side? What do you mean he will make it fail?

I didn’t want to address whether Ink was going to stick with XGaster or flip until a certain song was posted by Nyx two days ago on December 5th, “Soulless Heart”. If you haven’t listened to it yet, go ahead and click that link because the song is beautiful and absolutely necessary to continue on with this theory! The song is the Underverse 0.5 Ending Theme, and guess who it’s about? You guessed it, our good old buddy chum pal Ink. I’ve been listening to it on repeat since it came out, and it really is incredible. (Nyx, if you’re somehow reading this, I would like to personally congratulate you, because not only is the music amazing but mwah! Your voice is a joy, and I would not have any other singer do the vocals.) But the most important thing about the song is the lyrics. Here’s the first verse.

How long have I been longing

to be free and not broken

in this ocean of hollowness?

I don’t want to be forgotten.

Instantly, the lyrics hit you hard. This is about Ink, though, so you can’t expect anything less. Essentially, the song is about the emptiness that Ink feels without a SOUL. This goes along with one of his main aspects in Underverse. The only reason why he worked with XGaster to make sure XGaster’s game worked was so he could feel more emotions. As a chaotic neutral character, Ink literally only cares about himself and his personal goals. But what is interesting about this song is that he addresses the pain he has caused.

Sacrificial lambs

laid upon my path

now are broken worlds

killed by senseless wrath.

Ink knows that he has hurt people. I mean, in the present timeline when 0.5 is to be set, Ink’s actions just caused Error to literally “pull the plug” and destroy all the AUs. (Although, how many AUs were actually destroyed is impossible to determine, because there are still multiple Sanses that will be incorporated into S2 that were residing in their AUs at the time of their supposed destruction.) Ink knows that this is his fault. And now that XGaster has won, Ink will be receiving all those emotions he wanted! In the S2 teaser, which was released on the original Underverse 0.5 release date (the episode was unfortunately delayed due to issues with Nyx’s distributor, RouteNote), shows something very important.

Look at those vials in his hand. Those aren’t just colored vials. Well, they are, but their colors are especially important. Look at their specific colors: orange, yellow, and amber. Previously, Ink’s vials have been seen as very straightforward: roy g biv, that sort of thing.

You have one or maybe two variations, although in this picture there seems to be about four different aqua vials. But there certainly isn’t an amber vial. This goes to show that XGaster followed through on his promise, and Ink has a lot more variations in his color-coded emotion vials. The obvious conclusion from this is that he can feel a lot more things than he thought was possible- including guilt. With his newfound feelings, he could realize that what he did wasn’t just wrong, it was horrible. He might start to blame himself for getting all the AUs destroyed, which in turn might result in a betrayal of XGaster. With his emotions, he would become a real good person. But ultimately, without XGaster’s Overwrite abilities, Ink’s new emotions will fade and he will return to be the same old Ink as before. He will no longer understand why he sacrificed his emotions, and the cycle will start anew. Ink will never be truly happy, because being happy will always mean the suffering of others.

Or, Ink will stick with XGaster. It would be the same fate, after all; if the heroes defeat XGaster, Ink will still lose those emotions. This, though, might leave him feeling bitter and even more willing to do anything to get what he wants, which could potentially lead to him becoming a real villain. Perhaps XGaster isn’t the final boss of Underverse. Maybe the one to start everything will be the one to finish everything.

XGASTER AND UT!GASTER:

This wouldn’t be a real theory post without discussing our favorite fanfiction writer, would it? And yes, XGaster is literally a fanfiction writer. He has symptoms of OCD concerning the world-building of his universe and he just loves to add as much angst as humanly (or monsterly) possible. It just so happens that he lives in his own created universe, so his creations have the pleasurable chance at getting revenge.

Now, there are obviously two ways that Underverse can go: XGaster succeeds, or XGaster fails. This doesn’t necessarily mean that this will be the ending of S2. As I mentioned above, perhaps XGaster will be defeated at the end of 0.9 and 1.0 will be about everyone trying to stop Ink from taking the Overwrite SOUL for his own, I don’t know. In any case, I don’t really have anything to discuss about XGaster specifically, but I am pretty sure I know what his last scene will be if he happens to lose.

It is shown in the Underverse S2 Prologue - Owners that XGaster and UT!Gaster spent a lot of time together in the Void between the events of Xtale and Underverse. Not only do they hold an entire conversation together in Owners, but in Underverse 0.1 when Sans is hit in the head with a ball, he has a vision of the two of them standing together.

In XGaster’s and UT!Gaster’s conversation in Owners, UT!Gaster tells XGaster that he will fail in his quest for perfection. XGaster brushes him off because he’s an egotistical prick, yadda yadda. But this conversation is important because I believe it will parallel the ending of XGaster’s quest. In the end, UT!Gaster will approach his old Void-buddy and tell him to just give up on his pointless venture. XGaster will turn to dust after saying something like, “I will never give up”, and then we have Ink going on a rampage. That’s pretty much all I have to say on them, but I thought it would be worth adding.

DREAM AND NIGHTMARE:

Lastly, we have the brothers. As with XGaster and UT!Gaster, I don’t have much to add with them. But I do believe they will both play a major role in S2. They will be the overseers of the battle to come. Out of all the characters in the Undertale fandom, they are the most omnipotent. They are the protectors of the Tree of Feelings, which is one of three trees to give the Multiverse life. In Underverse 0.4, when X!Chara accused Nightmare of “watching us all this time as if we were part of a show”, Nightmare responded by saying:

Of course, Nightmare mostly means himself, Error, and Ink. Dream is much more active in helping people be happy, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t on the same god-tier level as his brother. Dream could sit back and watch the world tick, but he chooses not to because that goes against his morals.

In other words, Dream and Nightmare will probably affect the outcome of Underverse more than any other characters. They’re both pissed about what Error did: all those people that Dream cared about were murdered, and Nightmare can no longer generate negative feelings from innocents. They both have invested interest in this Multiverse war now, and their powers will certainly come to the forefront.

I believe that at the end of the story, the Multiverse will essentially go back to the exact way it was before Xtale was invented. XGaster will be dead, the Xtale characters will be put back in their AU, the other AUs will be restored, and at the end of it all, Dream and Nightmare will be once again pitted against one another. We may even see an alliance between them during Underverse S2 to stop XGaster, but afterwards, they will reestablish their rivalry. Unless the Omega Timeline comes into play, which it very well might, I don’t see the two brothers reconciling.

CONCLUSION:

Thank you everyone who took the agonizingly long time to read this! I hope this shed some light on certain characters (especially XI) and encourages to make some of your own theories. Stay safe and good night!

[olicitysecretsanta]

I Saw Him Standing There

For @magda1102, I hope that you love this. This is pretty angsty (which in my opinion is awesome, fight me people who don’t like angst). I hope that this helps fill the whole in your heart that Olicity has left in its wake. By @pr0fessi0nal-fangurl

Felicity watched Oliver walk out of the door and collapsed while sobbing onto the floor, it was as if she were dying. She saw the life she and Oliver were supposed to have flash before her eyes and she couldn’t help but sob even harder. They were never going to be able to have more kids, grow old together, or even get to experience those little moments that you do when you share your whole life with someone.

  She didn’t know how long she sat there crying but it was long enough that her eyes ran dry and her eyes were burning. What brought her back to reality was the sounds of her daughter’s cries from her nursery. Felicity drew in a shaky breath as she stood up on legs that felt like Jell-o and slowly made her way into Mia’s room.

  She walked into the room to see a red-faced Mia standing in her crib with big fat tears running down her face and Felicity’s heart broke even more. She hated seeing her daughter in pain, no matter what kind of pain it was. She walked over to the crib and picked the five-month-old up cradling her to her chest. Mia squirmed in her arms and Felicity knew that meant that she wanted Oliver. Felicity let out another sob, though no more tears fell down her face. Mia was always a daddy’s girl from the moment she was born, she would always instantly calm down the moment she was in Oliver’s arms. Mia would never get to feel that again. She would never get to experience that feeling of being completely and utterly safe while being in her daddy’s arms.

  “We are gonna get through this bug, daddy’s coming back. He has to, I have to believe that.” Her brain was telling her that it wasn’t probable, that there was a high chance Felicity would never see Oliver again. However, Felicity had to believe that she would see him again. because if she didn’t believe that she was going to break down and she couldn’t do that. It wasn’t just her that she had to think about, there was someone else that was depending on her now.

  Felicity’s mind instantly went to William, about how less than an hour ago she and Oliver were talking about the option of maybe trying to get custody of him. She could at least try and fight for custody over William. She didn’t care that they weren’t biologically related, she couldn’t imagine being able to get through this without him. Oliver and William were always her guys and always would be, and that meant fighting for each other. Even if Wiliam didn’t want anything to do with her, she wasn’t for one moment going to let him think that she didn’t want him.

  Felicity rocked Mia back and forth. After half an hour of her sobbing, she finally cried herself to sleep but Felicity couldn’t seem to put her down. She stared down at her sleeping daughter wondering how she got so lucky. No matter what mood she was in she could always look down at Mia and somehow feel at peace. Looking down at her daughter’s peaceful and sleeping face she knew that she would do whatever it took in order to make this work. It wasn’t going to be easy but she could do it.

ONE MONTH LATER

  “Come on sweetheart, you aren’t hungry and you don’t need a diaper change. What’s wrong, baby?” She asked, rubbing her hand gently up and down Mia’s back in the hopes that she would calm down but it was no use. Mia wouldn’t stop screaming and Felicity couldn’t figure out why. The only thing that she knew for sure was that she was on her last string of patience. She was also beginning to wonder where this kid got her set of lungs from because she was going on an hour of straight screaming. 

  It was moments like these that the absence of her husband was abundantly clear. She could really use some help and Oliver always knew exactly what to do to help her out. Whether it came to doing the laundry or the dishes or simply just taking over for her so that she could shower he always knew what to do.

  It had only been a month but it had felt like an eternity without him by her side. Mia’s screams died down slightly but it didn’t do much for Felicity’s migraine that was pounding behind her eyes. She couldn’t tell if the tears cascading down her cheeks were because of the pain in her head or that she was missing Oliver. She collapsed onto the couch and started sobbing along with Mia. If this situation were different she might find this comical. The fact that both her and Mia were side by side sobbing their eyes out would have been a funny scene if she didn’t feel so numb. 

  She couldn’t think of anything she’d done in the last month that wasn’t out of necessity. She looks at her computer sitting on her desk in the corner and aches to move her fingers over the keyboard, finding some sort of purpose, but she couldn’t. Every time she sat down to even try and find out where William was she would get flashbacks of being down in the bunker, back when she actually had Oliver in her life. It was something that she wasn’t prepared to actually confront or think about yet, so she just stared at the desk and suddenly she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

  Felicity set a still crying Mia down in her rocker as her heart rate skyrocketed and sharp shooting pains started to fill her chest. She gripped her shirt and squeezed her eyes shut as her breathing became shallow to the point of her hyperventilating. The only thing that she could focus on was the memories that kept shooting through her mind’s eye as she started to sweat. It felt like she was having a heart attack, like she was dying. But she knew better, she knew what this was. She was having a panic attack and the only difference between now and all of the other times that she has had one was that Oliver wasn’t here to talk her out of it.

  Normally, Oliver would see her starting to panic and would instantly be by her side, trying to comfort her and talk her down from the edge. This time she didn’t have that luxury, all she had was herself and, at the moment, she wasn’t the most reliable. The only thing that seemed to calm her down is thinking about Oliver’s arms wrapping around her and giving her that safe feeling. Like nothing could ever touch her or hurt her, just as long as they were together.

  Felicity focused on her breathing, taking deep breaths so that she could calm down after who knows how long of being in a pure state of panic. It was then that she started sobbing, no longer able to hold it in. She then noticed that Mia had finally calmed down. Felicity looked and saw she was fast asleep in her rocker and she breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that it would stay that way for a while. Then she might actually be able to get some shut-eye. 

  Felicity stood up and started cleaning up the trashed living room when there was a knock on the door. She immediately looked at Mia, hoping that she had not woken up from the noise, but it looked like she was down for the count. Then Felicity realized that she wasn’t expecting anyone and it was very rare that someone would come over to talk to her and suddenly her heart rate sped up again. After so many years of living on the edge, scared of the next threat, it was hard not to be on high alert.

  She walked towards the door, trying to regulate her heart rate and her breathing once again. She didn’t need another panic attack at the moment or she really wouldn’t be able to function for the rest of the day. 

  She threw open the door to find the absolute last person that she would have ever expected to be on the other side of the door simply standing in front of her. She stood there in shock, unable to believe that he found them.

  “What the fuck?” Felicity says, without giving it a second thought. She was too exhausted to have a filter. She stares across the threshold and right into William’s eyes, who has honestly looked a lot better.

  “Well that’s definitely one way to greet your son,” William says, standing outside with a backpack and a duffle bag in hand. It’s another couple of minutes before Felicity can even comprehend what was happening. William was here and standing in front of her. She had been wanting to find him for a month now, but just wasn’t ever able to get herself to do it and now here he was standing in front of her.

  “How did you find us?” She asks, stepping to the side so that he can come inside, completely forgetting about Mia and that William knew nothing about his baby sister.

  William was about to answer her question until he saw the state of the living room with all of the baby toys and then he noticed the sleeping baby in a rocker beside the couch. He stared at the infant, not knowing what to do or say.

  Felicity knew the moment that Willaim saw Mia sleeping in her rocker, he immediately stopped and froze in place. Felicity closed the front door and moved over to the 16-year-old. Felicity knew that this day was going to come eventually, she was just hoping that Oliver would have been here too. He would have been able to offer her support and help her through this moment. The moment where she had to tell their son that they have another child and never told him about it.

  Felicity walked up behind him and gently placed her hand on his shoulder as she moved around him to get a good look at his face. He looked exhausted, with bags under his eyes and his hair looking like he hadn’t brushed it in days and had merely been running his hands through it. A habit that he had developed from Oliver she had noticed. She could tell that he had been traveling for a decent amount of time just by the state of his clothes. 

  She suddenly realized that his grandparents were probably worried sick and looking for him, wondering where he had gone and run off to, but she couldn’t help but wonder why he left in the first place. What had happened that had made him pack a bag and track her down so that he could come and see her? It also occurred to her that she needed to tell him about Oliver and that he wasn’t here. That there was a chance that none of them will ever see him again.

  Felicity sighed and shook her head, focusing on the present and the fact that she needed to explain her’s and Oliver’s decision not to tell William about Mia. He deserved to know why he was only finding out about his little sister now.

  “Your dad and I wanted to tell you together and in person. We didn’t want to tell you in a voicemail that you more than likely wouldn’t listen to that I was pregnant and that you were going to be a big brother,” Felicity explained, hoping that he would understand that this wasn’t something that you just sprung on someone. That they didn’t do this to hurt him either.

  “I wouldn’t have ever gotten the voicemail even if you did,” William said finally, looking away from Mia and right into Felicity’s eyes. When their eyes met, she could plainly see the hurt and betrayal behind his eyes. She stared back, wondering once again what happened with his grandparents that sent him to her.

  “Will, what happened with your grandparents? It’s obvious that you have run away from home. I’m sure that they are worried sick about where you are,” Felicity asked. Moving around him so that she was standing in front of him, she put on her best mom no-nonsense face. 

  Will just smiled at her and chuckled, he really had missed her and his dad. He even missed her scolding him because it meant that she cared, he knew that his grandparents cared about him but they had both lied to him for 2 years. Making him believe that Oliver and Felicity didn’t want anything to do with him.

  “I was trying to change something on my phone one day, really I was bored and trying to jailbreak it and I found out that my grandparents had blocked both yours and dad’s number. I got angry and confronted them about it. For two years I thought that you and dad wanted nothing to do with me, that you were ashamed of me. Come to find out my grandparents were keeping both of you from me, they blocked your emails too. I’m surprised that I didn’t find out sooner than I did, we both know how smart I am and somehow it took me a year and a half to figure it out.” Will looked at Felicity and saw what he could only assume was a mix of anger and pride in her eyes.

  “They both had the audacity to tell me that it was for my own good, that they were protecting me because both of you aren’t good for me. So I dug into the dark web and satellites trying to find you and dad. It took me six months until I finally found this place. So, I packed my bags the moment I found you and bought a train and bus ticket and then walked five miles to get here.” Will explained everything that had happened over the past six months hoping and praying that Felicity would understand.

  Felicity quietly listened to his explanation and suddenly everything made sense. Her and Oliver had expected him to freeze them out for maybe a month, but not forever. They never gave up, constantly calling and sending him emails, but now it made sense why he never replied. She doesn’t agree with his grandparent’s method but she does understand why they did what they did. Ever since becoming a parent, she would do absolutely anything to make sure that William and Mia were safe and out of harm’s way, even if that means lying to them.

  “Where’s dad? I figured that he would be here when I got here. I was hoping at least. I have missed him and his terrible dad jokes.” William asks looking around as if trying to find him.

  Felicity wasn’t expecting that question, it was so out of left field and she wanted to have as much time as she could with him. She didn’t know how to break to him that his dad was gone, that now both of his biological parents were gone from his life, most likely forever. She knew that she needed to tell him, especially after what his grandparents did lying to him for so long, he deserves to know. But that didn’t mean she wanted to tell him.

  “Before I answer that, Will you need to call your grandparents,” Felicity started. When Will looked at her like she has gone crazy, Felicity put up her hand to stop the teenager from saying anything else.

  “Listen to me, if the situation was reversed and you had run off without telling me I would expect whoever you ran away to go and see to force you to at least call me to tell me that you were alive and safe. So, if you really want to stay here, then that’s what you have to do. Plus I don’t want them thinking I kidnapped you or had anything to do with you showing up here or they might actually try and fight for custody and that’s the last thing we want.” Felicity finished and stared at him, not willing to stand down on this subject.

  Will sighed, knowing that she wasn’t going to give this up. He needed to call his grandparents if he wanted to stay, which is what he wants more than anything. “Even if they fought you guys for custody they would lose. They always grant custody to a biological parent.”

  It took Felicity every ounce of energy not to start crying at the mention of Oliver, knowing that he wasn’t here to have custody awarded to him. She really needed to tell him about Oliver before she lost her nerve.

  “Speaking of your dad, Will there’s something that I have to tell you-” Felicity started to say before Mia woke up and started crying. Felicity sighed, just wanting more than a ten-minute break between crying fits. Felicity walked over to the rocker and picked Mia up, the baby immediately quieted down and laid her head on Felicity’s shoulder. She looked down at her daughter and kissed the top of her head, after a full hour of screaming her head off the snuggle was a welcome reprieve.

  Felicity turned and saw William standing there looking nervous and almost out of place, she smiled at him and couldn’t believe how grown up he was. He was 16 and his own person, it still seemed crazy to her that he was so old. She looked down at Mia and saw that she was staring at her older brother and saw that she had a nervous smile on her face, almost like she knew him.

  “Will I want you to meet someone. This is Mia, your baby sister,” Felicity said, looking from Mia to Will and saw that he was looking at his little sister with an enamored smile on his face. He walked towards them, finally setting down his bags as he did. Felicity looked down at Mia and saw that she was still smiling.

  “Hi Mia, I’m Will, I’m your big brother.” He said, finally coming close enough to touch her. Mia instantly reached out for him, which shocked both Will and Felicity. Will took Mia from Felicity like it was the most natural thing to do even though he looked terrified of the little baby. 

  Mia stared up at her big brother with an awestruck smile on her face and let out a loud laugh. She put both of her hands on either of his cheeks and Felicity nearly lost it. That was something that she would do to Oliver while he was still here. Felicity looked to Will and she suddenly saw the resemblance between him and Oliver. Felicity let a few tears fall down her face, not being able to control it anymore. She couldn’t hold in the anguish that was sitting in her heart, ready to explode like an emotional nuclear bomb. She needed to be strong for Will though, she needed to be the adult in this situation. She needed to be a mom instead of a grieving widow, hoping that one day her husband was going to come back.

  “Felicity? What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” Will asked, taking a step towards her. She nodded, sniffling and wiping the tears from her face with a sad smile on her eyes.

  “Will, I think you should sit down for what I am about to tell you,” Felicity said and watched as the boy slowly lowered himself down onto the couch and Felicity followed suit. She sat there for a few moments trying to find the right words to use to tell him. She stared at Mia and watched as she snuggled into her brother’s chest as if she didn’t just meet him.

  “Your dad he…He made a deal with some cosmic being. I still don’t exactly understand it myself. A month ago this…being showed up and he collected on his end of the bargain and took your dad with him.” Felicity looked at Will and could tell that he was confused and she didn’t blame him because she was still confused herself with everything that has happened. 

  “Will, he isn’t coming back. When your dad left he said that this being, The Monitor is what he called him, he said that he saw your dad’s-” Felicity let out a sob, not being able to finish her thought. Saying it meant that it was real and that this wasn’t some extremely bad nightmare. 

  “He saw your dad’s destiny and that it was for him to die in this crisis. In order for everyone to survive he needed to…” She couldn’t finish without seeing it in her mind’s eye, her dreams for the last month were filled with Oliver dying in every way imaginable.

  William looked at her pale as a ghost, his eyes wide and tears pooling in the corners. Felicity thought it hurt when Oliver told her he was leaving but watching Will try and digest this information hurt her more. Seeing the devastation on his face. The grief and lost chances, seeing your children hurt was the worst kind of pain. Knowing that there wasn’t anything that you could do to help them.

  “I was so awful to him the last time that I saw him, I should have told him how much I loved him, how much he meant to me,” Will said letting the tears stream down his face not even bothering to wipe them away.

  Felicity moved closer to him and put her hands on his cheeks so that he would look her in the eyes, somehow her heart broke all over again looking into his grief stricken and regretful eyes. 

  “Will, listen to me, your dad knew how you felt. He knew that you loved him and he knew that you didn’t mean any of those things that you said to him. He loved you with his whole heart and nothing could have changed that, not any amount of words or actions would have changed his mind. No matter what happens, remember that. All that he ever wanted for you was to be happy, whatever that means for you.” Felicity felt a weight lift off of her chest by telling him this. Even though she could see that he was still in a lot of pain, she knew that they would have each other. The two of them would get through this together, because nothing would keep them apart this time.

THREE MONTHS LATER

  To say that the last three months had been a whirlwind would have been a major understatement. Felicity did make William call his grandparents but didn’t make him do it right away. She let him wait a few days before she stole his phone and dialed his grandparent’s number for him so that he couldn’t somehow back out because he was scared. 

  The next month was spent with Felicity convincing them that it was safe where they were and that William wasn’t going to get into any trouble or be in any sort of danger. The only danger he would be in was the danger of being completely and utterly bored because this small town had absolutely nothing to do for about 30 miles. After three and a half weeks, his grandparents finally broke down and decided that maybe it would be good for him to stay there with her and his baby sister.

  Felicity was more than relieved when they decided to have William stay with her. She hadn’t realized how lonely she was until William came along. Having someone around the house to help was a huge relief but it was also nice to have someone other than a baby to talk to. She had him enrolled in the local high school and was teaching him to drive; which alone was a truly terrifying thing. Their days at the moment were incredibly mundane, but compared to how they were before, neither of them were really complaining.

  Even though a day didn’t pass that she didn’t wish that Oliver was here to witness this, things finally felt normal again. She didn’t wake up every morning depressed and wishing that she could go back to sleep because she didn’t have the energy to exist without Oliver by her side. She had Will there to help out and, more importantly, she had him there to reminisce with. Every night, while she rocked Mia to sleep, they would tell the little girl stories about her daddy. It had become a sort of a ritual for them and was slowly but surely helping them heal.

  It was now January and after three months they are all in a routine and it was working out well for them, Felicity was finally beginning to really smile again. She could look at Mia and see Oliver in her eyes and not want to start sobbing. Instead, she could rejoice because she had the best parts of Oliver in both her kids and that was all that she could have asked for.

  It was the middle of January and northern Washington had just gotten a large amount of snow so William had the day off of school and they were all bundled up and playing outside. Mia learned how to walk just a month ago but she could barely navigate in the snow which was up to her waist. Still, she seemed to be having the time of her life with William. Felicity watched both of them with a smile on her face knowing that life didn’t get much better than this. The only thing missing was Oliver.

  “Mama! Mama!” Mia screeched happily. Hearing her giggle was one of the best sounds in the whole world. She smiled brightly at her daughter and joined both of them in the snow. She picked Mia up and gently threw her up in the air, catching her effortlessly.

  “Hi, baby, you having fun in the snow with Will?” Felicity asked the little girl.

  “Um!” Mia shouted and pointed to William, making everyone laugh including herself. Mia had just started talking and the only words that she knew were, ‘mama’, ‘hi’, and ‘um’ but she let everyone know that she could talk. She was like Felicity in that way, you could rarely get the little girl to be quiet for more than a few seconds.

  Felicity saw something out of the corner of her eye coming out of the woods and turned to see what it was. Felicity assumed that it was going to be one of William’s friends but it was, in fact, the last person she ever expected to see again. Oliver. He was standing there on the edge of the woods, a smile on his face, as he watched the three of them play in the snow.

  Their eyes met and tears instantly came to her eyes as her arms gave out. Luckily William caught Mia before she could freefall into the snow. Felicity just stared at him, not sure whether or not she was dreaming. Was he actually there? Was it even possible? Was she just imagining him because she wanted nothing more than for him to be there with them? She couldn’t trust her own mind at the moment because she wanted this to be true. She wanted him to actually be there standing before them.

  William looked in the direction of where Felicity was staring, wondering what caused her to freeze and drop Mia. He saw him in an instant, his dad. Felicity explained to him what had happened, who took him and why he left. She had said that he wasn’t going to come back, yet here he was standing in front of them.

  “Dad!!” 

  Without a second thought, William set Mia down and ran towards Oliver as fast as he could through the eight inches of snow. He crashed into his dad and the two men threw their arms around each other, clinging to each other like there won’t be another chance.

  Felicity watched the scene in front of her and she knew that she wasn’t crazy, he was actually here and standing in front of them. Seeing William and Oliver embrace caused Felicity’s tears to fall down her face, she was so happy that they were getting this moment to see each other again after everything that happened. William talked about the regret and the guilt that he felt surrounding the last time that he saw Oliver often and she was so happy that he was going to get the chance to reconcile with him.

  Felicity was brought back to the present when she heard Mia cooing as she played in the snow. She bent down and picked up the baby and smiled as she looked down at her. She wasn’t going to have to grow up only knowing Oliver from the stories that her and William had been telling her. She was going to get the chance to know her dad. That was all she wanted at this point for her daughter, for her to know how much her dad loved her.

  She wasn’t even sure how long Oliver and William spent hugging each other until they finally pulled apart and Oliver finally looked back at Felicity. He had tears in his eyes as his gaze moved to the baby in her arms. This time she couldn’t resist it, she ran to him, nearly tripping more than once because of the snow and her not caring about anything else other than getting to him.

  She crashes into him harder than William did and it nearly sent both of them tumbling to the ground with the force of it. They were both aware of Mia who was cuddled into Felicity’s shoulder, not knowing the intensity of the moment she was in the middle of. Felicity let out a sob as she clutched the back of his shirt, thinking that she might rip it. They were both crying in each other’s arms, not being able to believe that this moment was actually happening.

  “Please tell me that this is real and that I’m not dreaming. I wouldn’t be able to take it if this wasn’t real.” Felicity begged, she wouldn’t be able to handle this if she woke up and this was all a dream and she was still all alone.

  “This is real, honey, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere,” Oliver replied, letting one of his hands travel up the back of her jacket. The warmth of his hand proved to her that he was actually real. He knew that she needed to hear him say it and he would do absolutely anything to prove to her that he was telling the truth. Oliver had no intention of leaving his family anytime soon after everything that had happened and the universe nearly ending. He needed to just be in his wife’s arms. It was the one place that he felt truly safe from everything, he pulled back just enough to kiss her like his life depended on it and she melted into the kiss all the same. 

  Neither one of them was sure how long they stayed like that but they finally pulled apart and his eyes instantly found baby Mia. He let out a little sob seeing her so small after fighting side by side a grown-up version of her. He never thought that he was going to see her little face again and here she was. Getting to look into his daughter’s eyes again after nearly seeing the life drain from them less than a week ago, was the best feeling in the world. Even now he could see her fierceness and courage behind those gorgeous blue eyes that didn’t have any sort of pain in them like they did before.

  “Hi there, Mia, I have missed you so much,” Oliver said to her lightly touching her cheek. Mia stared back at him, everyone was watching to see what Mia’s reaction was going to be. After a few moments of just staring at him with a blank look on her face, it was like she recognized who he was. She smiled a three-tooth smile and giggled as she threw herself into Oliver’s arms.

  The three adults laughed as Oliver took her in his arms and hugged her to his chest, Mia snuggled into her daddy’s chest like everything was finally right in the world. Oliver would never stop thanking the world, or the monitor, or God, or whoever the hell gave him this chance back. When he left a few months ago he was certain that he was never going to see his family again and now here he was with everyone that he loved the most.

  The four of them stood there finally as a family and it felt like nothing could ever ruin this moment. Oliver and Felicity were finally getting a real chance at retiring from vigilante life and raising their family together, nothing was in their way this time. No Monitors or crisis’ to tell them that they had to make yet another sacrifice, finally, they could be together as a family and nothing would ever beat this feeling that all four of them were feeling; content.

  They all knew that no matter what life threw at them they would be able to get through it as long as they were all together.

[jet-playin-around]

What Do You Want?

Blueberry, chocolate, or bran…? Well, blueberry or chocolate. Who eats bran muffins by choice? 

People who care about their physical health, the Hermione voice of his conscience reminded him. Sometimes, he wondered if she used a spell to do that, since Ron said it was the same for him. Shaking his head, Harry pushed the voice, and related thoughts, away. If choosing not eat bran muffins was irresponsible, so be it. He'd rather enjoy life. 

But, blueberry or chocolate? 

Luckily, he had time. The queue was moving slowly, every customer shifting from foot to foot, trudging forward a half-step at a time. At the counter, a posh voice drawled short, simple responses to every order. Some customers were still offended by this barista’s attitude, but only the first-timers. All of the regular customers knew what to expect when Draco Malfoy was behind the counter. 

Not so long ago, Harry had been a first-timer. He'd been having a shit morning. Two calls from potential clients and a disgruntled customer who claimed the wards weren't letting his crup come and go when he had to wee. Harry was almost certain the bloke just wanted another look at him; he spent the entire time Harry worked to set the wards just watching him. 

When he shuffled into the café, that morning, he hadn't expected the prickly bastard to be there, but found himself pleasantly surprised… 

“What do you want?” the barista ground out, suggesting that it wasn't the first time he'd asked. He stood behind the counter, his shoulders stiff, and the black apron wrapped tightly around his chest and hips was smeared with something unidentifiable. A name tag, pinned to the apron, read “Miles.” His head jerked in a fruitless attempt to flip the limp strands of pale hair from where they obscured narrowed grey eyes. 

“Malfoy?” Harry blinked, then shook himself. This was good, his life needed a little excitement. And, oddly enough, nothing seemed quite as exciting as the prospect of sparring with Draco Malfoy. “Fancy that,” he grinned, leaning on the counter.

Malfoy snarled, but stood his ground. “Order something, Potter, or leave.”

The grin widened. “I’m doing well, thanks. How have you been, Malfoy?” He looked like he’d been well, himself, Harry noted. His face had filled out, as well as his body, since the war. He no longer looked half-starved and haunted, simply annoyed. But Harry could deal with annoyed, he even looked forward to it, if that spark in Malfoy’s eyes was any indication of the fire to come.

“Today, Potter,” he growled, tapping his fingers on the counter, impatiently. 

“Yeah, well, I tried the auror bit. Didn’t work out for me.” Harry replied, as if he’d been asked. “What about you, though? A barista? I see you’re coming up, in the world.”

The spark shifted, becoming a twinkle, and Malfoy smirked. “By my estimation, it’s better than dealing in security. When I give you the wrong drink, it’s unlikely to kill you.”

Surprised, Harry let out a bark of laughter. “I suppose that’s true. Are you planning on giving me the wrong drink?”

“Absolutely.”

Still chuckling, Harry shook his head. “Well, then I’ll have a double espresso and a peanut butter biscuit.”

“Excellent choice, sir,” he drawled, rolling his eyes. “Will that be all?”

“Yes.” He tried to hide his grin when Malfoy punched the lever that sent the money drawer crashing open with a subdued ding. “Seriously, though, what led to barista?” he asked. 

“It’s always been a dream of mine, Potter. Serving strangers, wearing polyester.” He held out a hand, expectantly, and Harry dropped a couple of galleons into it, then rocked back on his heels to wait for him to count out change. Only, Malfoy wasn't counting change… He slammed the drawer shut, after tossing in the coins, then turned and began fiddling with the gadgets and jars behind the counter. 

“Er, Malfoy?” Harry called, leaning forward to see him clearly. “You forgot my change.”

Silence. 

“Oi, Malfoy!” 

“Here you are, now leave.”

Accepting the paper cup Malfoy passed him, Harry frowned. “This is a double espresso?” he asked.

“How should I know?” he asked, glare firmly in place. 

“You made it,” Harry laughed. “And what about my biscuit?” 

Malfoy let out an exasperated sigh, then turned to retrieve the biscuit, chocolate chip, and plopped it onto the counter, unceremoniously. “Anything else?” 

A smile tugged at the corners of Harry's mouth. “My change?” 

One pale brow winged up behind the disheveled hair, and Malfoy flicked his eyes to the little slate propped up beside the register. Harry followed his gaze to the bold, cheerful lettering. Tips are appreciated, it read. 

“But not compulsory,” he shot back. 

With a cold glare in his direction, Malfoy drew his wand and, without taking his eyes from Harry, aimed a spell that added angry, slashing text below the first message. Compulsory idiot fee for all scar headed prats. 

Harry rolled his eyes. “What if I said I'd like to speak with your supervisor.”

“He's out,” Malfoy said, examining his nails with a bored expression. When Harry's eyes narrowed, he sighed. “He can't be arsed. Look, you're holding up the queue, Potter. Take your coffee, and your dessert, and kindly fuck off.”

Harry glanced around; there wasn't anyone else waiting. Smirking, he propped a hip against the counter, removed the lid from his paper cup, and took a long sip. Vanilla and honey. It was odd, but not bad, so he took another sip, sliding his eyes to Malfoy’s. 

“It's acceptable,” he grinned, plucking up the biscuit. He shoved it into his mouth and turned, lifting one hand in a careless wave, and strode through the door. 

So, of course, it didn't matter what he ordered; Draco wouldn't give it to him, anyway. 

Ahead of him, Fremont - one of the surprising number of Draco's regular customers - stepped up to the counter, his worn oilskin falling heavily over his thin frame. And Draco greeted him as he always did; with an impatient “what do you want, today, Fremont?”

“Oh, the usual,” Fremont chuckled. His thin face seemed to crack when he smiled fondly. Harry watched as something softened in those ice chip eyes and the corner of Draco's thin-lipped mouth twitched, as if fighting a smile. 

Harry was fucked. He knew it, had done for some time. That didn't stop the painful clenching in his chest from dragging a quiet gasp from him. 

“Goblin piss and week old shite,” Draco answered with a curt nod, and Harry ducked his head as he mouthed the familiar words along with him. “Coming right up.”

Fremont laughed, loud and delighted, his head thrown back and his thin shoulders shaking with the force of it. When Draco handed him the steaming mug and a plate with a large square of some sort of pastry, moments later, he turned and made his way to his usual table near the frosted door, still chuckling. 

“Oh, fuck, you're back?” that posh voice drawled, drawing Harry's attention back to the counter. 

“Every day, darlin’,” he assured, winking as Draco rolled his eyes. 

“What do you want?” he said, as if it wasn't the first time he'd asked. It wasn't, really. He asked every day. And, every day, since that first, Harry replied-

 “A double espresso and a peanut butter biscuit.”

He rolled his eyes, again, and reached for a chocolate muffin, then shoved it into Harry's hand and turned to prepare his coffee. Harry leaned forward, propping his elbows on the counter to watch as he worked. Steaming milk, grinding coffee beans, stirring at the cauldron bubbling a thick brown blend that expelled puffs of fragrant steam as he ladled a measure of its contents into a large paper cup. 

His hair, already a flyaway mess, was pulled into a loose tail that fell halfway down his back, lying almost neatly between his shoulder blades. The knot of his apron, at his waist, framed the puffed fabric of his shirt under the edge of a dark waistcoat that hugged his sides, accentuated the gentle swell of his arse, encased in dark denim. His broad shoulders stayed perfectly squared, years of etiquette lessons dictating his every move. 

“Here you are, Potter. Now leave,” Draco ordered, handing over the paper cup. 

Taking it, Harry lifted the lid and inhaled deeply. Ginger and toffee. “Have dinner with me,” he said, instead, as the bell at the door signaled a new customer. 

“Merlin, why on earth would I do that?” Draco asked, his eyes comically wide. 

“Do what?” Pansy said, from behind Harry. 

He turned to find her removing her cloak, her neat bob swaying with each practiced sway of her body. She knew exactly what to do with the assets granted her by birth and, were Harry not perpetually enthralled by another snake in this pit, he might try his luck with her. 

“Have dinner with me,” Harry repeated, bending to kiss the cheek she offered by way of greeting. 

“Oh. Well, I suppose. I'll have to check my schedule, but-” 

“He wasn't inviting you, you silly-” 

“Sure I was,” Harry interrupted. “You said no, and I still need to eat.” Pansy smirked and Harry shot her a wink over his coffee. 

She shook out her cloak, folded it over one arm. “Well, what do you know? Looks like I can squeeze you in, tonight.”

Harry tried to confine the wince to his face, then schooled his expression so he could turn to gauge Draco's reaction. Then froze. 

He was fuming. He crossed his arms over his chest, his pale eyes dark, thunderous, under furrowed brows. The wisps of hair flying around his face took on the appearance of flames, whipped around by a tempestuous wind, and the grim set of his jaw promised swift vengeance. 

His eyes followed Pansy as she rounded the counter, hanging her cloak on the rack next to his and retrieving her apron. Harry, though, couldn't take his eyes from Draco. Yes, fucked was definitely the appropriate description for Harry's state. 

“Don't look at me like that, Draco,” Pansy was saying as she tied her apron. “What else should I do when a fit bloke invites me to dinner?”

“Perhaps you could have the dignity to refuse a second-hand invitation?” Draco snapped. He reached behind himself to untie his own apron, the name tag glinting as he whipped it over his head. 

“And perhaps you could stop being a twat long enough to avoid a second-hand invitation being issued,” Pansy countered, affecting a bored tone as she reached below the counter for the necessary forms to record their shift change. 

Harry chuckled, setting his cup on the counter and lounging against it to watch. Watching the two of them bicker was nearly as much fun as sparring with Draco, himself. But he needed an answer before he took matters into his own hands. He turned to face Draco as he came around the counter. 

“It's okay, Draco,” he assured, grinning when his eyes darkened further. “I'll have dinner with Pansy, since you aren't interested. I'd better be off, now. Rich fucks to protect, and all.”

“Shut up, Potter,” Draco snarled when he reached Harry's side. Lightning quick, he snaked a hand around Harry's neck and yanked him down to crash their lips together. 

Shocked, Harry was barely able to open his mouth before that sharp tongue worked its way inside, flooding him with the flavour of smooth, dark roast coffee and rich cream while the fresh scent of lemon, the dark musk of man, assailed his senses. By the time he thought to lift his hands to slim hips, it was over, Draco ripping his mouth away and tugging ruthlessly at the hair on the back of Harry's neck. 

“You aren't clever, Potter,” he sneered. “Pick me up at seven.”

Still reeling, Harry watched him sail toward the back of the café and the door leading to his flat above, his hips swinging in a way that drew the eye to his arse and suggested he wasn't unaffected by the heat he wielded like a double edged blade. Shifting his gaze as Draco disappeared, he found Pansy smirking at him. 

“Don't you have work to do, Potter?” she asked. 

Harry grinned, a bubble of light rising in his chest. He retrieved his coffee and muffin, sent her a little salute, and made his way out of the café. He did have work to do, and a date to plan.