#MASHED the screen the second i saw the last option

[whump-a-la-mode]

!: that classic collapse into someone’s waiting arms

Continuation for the villain from call me???

Whatever you write is great so this ⬆️ is just a suggestion.

I am a simple man. I look at a prompt. I write 1.3k words of fluffy nonsense. So this is a little bit off prompt, but it comes into play at the end! Thank you so much for your ask!

CW//Past trauma, refusal to eat

To say that Villain was a handful would be... well, it would be completely false.

Objectively, the former tormentor of the city was about as simple a ward as one could hope for, medical professional or not. Their needs were simple, their requests even more so.

When Hero’s time of laying low had at last expired, it had been a nerve-wracking affair for both them and Doctor. Despite the doctor’s welcoming hospitality, hiding in their apartment forever was simply not a tenable option. For one thing, it would put a target on the house bigger than the whole damn thing. And, for another, Hero had work to do. People to talk to, dots to connect.

Doctor wouldn’t pretend that they understood any of it. The politics of heroes and villains were far beyond their mind’s purview. They were a doctor. They took care of people-- that was their role in all of it, and it was the only role they were interesting in fulfilling.

And that was how Villain came into their care.

While Hero was in the home, they had occupied themself with the tending of their former nemesis in every way they could manage. They fed them, ensured they were clean, and spent half their day walking around the house with a nervous villain either in their arms or trailing close behind.

Thus, when the hero started spending most of the day outside the home, returning only in the evenings, it was... difficult.

The first two days had been spent watching Villain sit by the apartment’s front door like a canine, using their tablet only to say the same two things, often over and over again in rapid succession:

“Miss Hero.”

“Where Hero.”

“Where Hero miss Hero.”

“Where Hero.”

After those days, Doctor had at last managed to redirect them to a couch, once it had been moved and turned to show a clear view of the door. They needed to know when Hero got home, they said. Needed to greet them. To see them.

In front of the couch had been positioned the apartment’s television, though it was been very particularly placed as to allow the door to be viewed without issue. It was the only way that Villain had agreed to sit upon it. Not that they’d actually agreed, per se, they had simply stopped climbing off when Doctor lifted them onto it.

Now... that was where they were.

The doctor moved out of the kitchen, glancing to the corner of the apartment’s common space that had turned to the villain’s dayroom.

The television chattered with its unending noise. Villain never seemed to use the remote, even though it sat on the couch at their side. They watched whatever their caretaker put on, though they only switched it when the constant stream of the same noise became too grating to bear. At the moment, the screen displayed some action show-- characters in low lighting shouting over a forgettable macguffin.

Yesterday, it had been the shopping channel. The day before, the weather. Whatever it was, its watcher did not seem to mind. They had not requested the thing in the first place. Doctor had only installed it when the tugging on their heartstrings had grown too great, watching the hero’s heartbroken ward stare at that door, day in and day out.

And thus, Villain sat on the couch. From morning to evening, they would seat themself in the same position, unbroken by even the slightest twitching. If they had the option, they would have likely preferred to stay there. Stay by the door, so there would be no time wasted when Hero at last returned.

But, much to the villain’s chagrin, Doctor, too, was a resident of the apartment, and they knew that sorrowful longing was not a substitute for life.

Mealtimes were the most important.

Getting Villain to eat was a hell of its own right. It was Hero’s idea, to imitate the Nutriblocks with something more appetizing. And, sure, it was easy with desserts. But getting them to eat real food? It seemed like a neverending fight. Thus far, their diet consisted of mashed potatoes, and, if they were feeling especially open-minded, unseasoned, ungarnished chicken.

They still got Nutriblocks. Not full ones, but handfuls of the grey crap, which they wolfed down as though they were being starved. Hero’s awareness of this fact was... lacking, but they would never understand that, without the grey blocks, their ward would have long since began to wither away.

Doctor glanced back to the kitchen. Water boiled atop the stove, specks of salt bouncing from its bubbling surface. Dinner would be prepared soon, and, once again, they would have to coax the potatoes down their ward’s throat.

But, the tubers would take ages to soften. There was plenty of time to wait around.

“Villain?” The doctor moved with slow, even steps towards the couch. The villain’s gaze, they noted, had been fixed on the door instead of the television. When they were called they looked over blearily. “How are you doing?”

“Where Hero.” The tablet chattered. “Miss Hero.”

“Yeah. I know you miss them, bud. But they’re out meeting with Teammate, okay? They’ll be back this evening. They always come back.”

Villain frowned stubbornly.

“Hero back. Hero back.”

“In a bit, okay?”

Doctor did their best to talk to the one who they took care of. Between their own activities, they made the time to make conversation. To try to ease their loneliness.

Villain hated it. They knew that. Villain hated them. They were the one who hauled them away from the door, who forced them to look at things other than its solid wood paneling.

They hated the exercises, relearning to use their legs, to walk, to use their hands. They hated when the doctor urged them to make laps of the apartment’s floorspace-- a border collie nipping at the ankle of a sheep. The villain needed it. Doctor would not let the couch turn into their new prison.

And, for that, they were hated. It did not phase them too much; though it did phase them.

“When. When Hero.”

“Soon. Soon Hero. Dinner is almost ready, so it’s evening, and Hero comes home in the evening.”

The mention of mealtime made Villain’s countenance twist.

“Don’t want.”

“You need to eat.”

“Don’t want.”

“You’ll starve, Villain.”

“No. Want...” Their fingers wandered around the tablet’s screen. “White black.”

“White black?”

“White with black.”

“Hm...” Doctor had gotten quite skilled with the sort of verbal charades. “Grey?”

“Yes.” Though the tablet spoke in monotone, Villain’s expression provided all the excitement that was needed. “Want white black.”

The Nutriblock.

“You can’t just have that. You need something else. I made potatoes again, okay? Well, they’re still on the stove, but, you know what I mean. Will you eat those?”

“Don’t want.”

“Please?”

“Want white black.”

The doctor bit their lip in frustration.

“If you eat your potatoes, you can have some of that, okay?”

Villain frowned.

“Will you eat then?”

“Yes.”

“Thank god.” Doctor exhaled. “Okay, it’ll be ready in just a few. You, um- It looks like your show is getting to a good part. So, I’ll just...”

They stood, turning, before a familiar sound made them whirl around a second time.

A knock on the door.

“Hero Hero Hero Hero.” The tablet caterwauled.

The long suffering Doctor sighed, and felt relief in its most physical possible form. There was equal annoyance and pride as they watched Villain leap up from the couch-- a central goal of that day’s exercises-- and scramble to the door. Even as it nearly hit them with its swing, they seemed to pay no mind.

Hero was home.

There was an exhausted, nearly haunted look about their eyes, but that meant nothing when they saw their ward. As they always did, they swung their arms wide open, leaving Villain to stumble into them. With a single heave, their former enemy was held close to their chest, hugging them and burying their head into their chest.

Doctor smiled.

Villain may have been a handful, but, at the end of the day, it was worth it.

[sgtjbbhasmyheart]

Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter Four

Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he's not Reader's sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2960

Warnings: Itsy bitsy amount of angst, bad language words, mentions of phone sex and masturbation

A/N: divider credit- @firefly-graphics

DO NOT copy or replicate without my permission

“James?”

You held your breath after you uttered the name into the phone’s speaker. Your heart galloped at the thought of actually speaking to him. You’d be lying if you had said you hadn’t imagined how his voice sounded. You pictured something deep and raspy but drawled and sweet.

In the last five days, you’d imagined many things about James. Not just the sound of his voice, but his laugh, too. Rich and soothing. And of his scent- distinctly his own or a fresh, citrusy cologne of bergamot and tangerines. You imagined his rough, calloused hands sliding over your skin in slow motion.

And how he kissed. You daydreamed about that, too. Often. You couldn’t count how many times you’d stared at his sorry excuse for a selfie. You found yourself drawn to it daily. It was only part of his face, but what you could see was ruggedly handsome. His lips looked soft and delectable. You pictured yourself nibbling on his bottom lip, deepening its color to blush pink.

A sharp sigh escaped through your nose as you waited for his reply. Maybe he hadn’t heard you the first time? “James?” you asked again. “Hello?”

No response.

You pulled the phone away from your ear to make sure you were still connected. The call-time counter ticked ominously second by second on the screen. You tucked the device back under your hair to find the call was still active.

Did he get cold feet and change his mind last minute? He hadn’t hung up yet, so you weren’t exactly sure why he was waiting. Maybe he was tongue-tied? Or hadn’t expected you to pick up?

“Did you butt-dial me, James?” you laughed, trying to dispel some of your anxiety.

You heard a muffled “ shit” and two beeps. You glanced at the phone’s screen again, and call ended flashed in bold white.

Ignoring the hang-up, you immediately re-dialed James. The line rang and rang. And rang.

You weren’t confident you were going to speak with James, the longer the rings continued. He wasn’t ready to talk to you yet, and that was okay. It had only been five days.

Five days wasn’t long enough to build a bond over stupid Would You Rather? questions or form a simmering crush on a stranger that made your stomach flip whenever he sent you a funny cat meme. Nope. Five days was much too short of time for anything.

A generic voicemail greeting clicked over and rudely beeped at you. You took a deep breath and quickly thought of a reason to be calling someone who didn’t want to talk. “Hey, James. Just calling you back. It’s (Y/N), by the way. I’m not sure if you meant to call the first time or if sneaky ninjas have accosted you and somehow did a crazy pocket dial. Y’know, because of the whole military-trained assassin athlete mchottie thing. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. And no pressure! If you’re not comfortable talking on the phone, I completely understand. I’m sweating bullets just talking to your voicemail box.” You chuckled nervously. You were starting to babble.

“Anyway,” you continued. “I hope you’re well. And don’t leave me hangin’. I really wanna know if you’d rather sneeze every hour or burp when you saw a pretty girl.” You laughed again. “Goodbye, James.”

You mashed the end call button and face-planted into one of the throw pillows on your couch. You groaned loudly into the fabric, chastising yourself in your head. If he didn’t want to talk before, he most definitely wouldn’t want to now. You shook your head in disbelief. Sneaky ninjas, seriously? What. The. Fuck?

Hours later, while in the middle of a Say Yes to the Dress marathon (dammit Robyn!) and a self-induced diabetic coma of ice cream and chips, your phone vibrated. You swat at it on the coffee table with a foot, only to realize you lack the limberness or the dexterity in your toes to retrieve the phone. As a result, it tumbled to the ground as you groaned in displeasure. Cursing your luck, you bent forward to pick it up. Awakening the phone’s black screen, a text popped into view.

James Sorry

Your heart lurched for a moment. With every second that had passed since you’d left your voicemail for James, the least likely you’d felt he’d call back or even respond. Hence the pity party with Ben & Jerry and Cool Ranch Doritos.

James My so-called “friends” grabbed my phone from me and led to accidentally calling you.

Ahh, the old “invade-your-friend’s-privacy” maneuver, you thought, shaking your head.

James I didn’t want to hang up on you, but I’m not quite ready to talk yet. I like what we have.

Your heart flopped. You liked what you had, too, but a small part of you- a dumb part- wanted just a little more.

Shaking off the feeling of longing churning your insides, you thumbed over the screen to reply.

You No worries, James. We can go at whatever speed you like.

It was weird to have the guy, for once, want to take things slow. Usually, it was always you pumping the brakes in the relationship. Was this even a relationship, though? Were all the texting and personal questions leading somewhere? Or were you bound to end up friends with an interesting story to tell your other friends?

Not allowing your negative thoughts to curtail the joy of finally texting James again, you quickly punched out:

You I’m just glad you’re okay and not being held for ransom somewhere.

James It would take a whole horde of ninjas to take me down.

You giggled at the confidence contained in this one text, but talking to a girl on the phone threw him for a loop. We are definitely back in junior high, you thought.

You You sound awfully confident for a man who wouldn’t talk to a friend on the phone.

James You don’t want to talk to me.

You pinched your eyebrows together in frustration to form a crease between them. Was he serious?

You Sure, I do. I have a bet going with myself on how your voice sounds. Is it deep and masculine or high-pitched like you sucked in helium?

James Which are you betting on?

You pulled your bottom lip in by your teeth, biting softly. You smirked as you thought of the two options. The former would be nice, but the latter would be pretty damn funny.

You I mean, deep and masculine is very desirable. Listening to the low timbre of a man’s voice is very relaxing for me. But, considering the ridiculous “selfie” you sent me, I’m placing my money on high-pitched.

James What was wrong with my selfie?!

Somehow, you knew that would get him worked up.

You Well, for starters: I can only see, like, part of your face! Did a blind person teach you how to take them??

You And secondly, there clearly wasn’t enough “Blue Steel.” With cheekbones and pouty lips like yours and a chiseled jaw, I’d be blue-steeling the shit out of all my selfies!

A wave of remorse washed over you once you hit send. Had you really compared him to Zoolander? Not only had you objectified him by mentioning how aesthetically pleasing he was (let’s face it- he’s really, really, really ridiculously good looking), but you may have criticized him for his terrible selfie abilities. At that moment, as you waited for the inevitable “fuck off” text to come through, you wished for a giant sinkhole to appear under your apartment and swallow you whole. What were you thinking?

James First off, I’m a selfie amateur. My past line of work limited my contact and/or exposure to the outside world. I didn’t learn what a selfie even was until recently. Remember, I’m also a man of mystery. I’m trying to keep up appearances and can’t reveal too much.

James What is “Blue Steel”? I’m not very pop-culture savvy unless it happened before 1944.

James Did you just call me pretty??

Your cheeks flushed with the heat of a thousand suns. He called you out as you expected him to do.

You Uh...

You Are we gonna talk about the fact you said you didn’t know about pop culture after 1944?? You are a grandpa!

James Nice try with the subject change! Admit it- you think I’m pretty.

You rolled your eyes. Of course, that would be the thing he focused on out of the whole conversation.

You I have no idea what you’re talking about.

If all else fails--deny, deny, deny.

James Right. Sure about that, doll?

Your pulse spiked.

You never did like pet names before you met James, but doll had a goo-ing effect on you for some reason. Everything seemed to turn to mush whenever he mentioned the word.

You Absolutely. I have no reason to believe that if you weren’t a military-trained assassin athlete mchottie, you’d be a male model. None what-so-ever.

James Uh-huh. I’m going to pretend that you aren’t lying through your teeth and getting back to our scintillating game of Would You Rather?

James I’d burp every time I saw a pretty dame, by the way. I wouldn’t want to take my chances with sneezing in my sleep. Would you rather eat only fruits or vegetables for one year?

Several nights after the voicemail incident, you were sitting in Penelope with Robyn after work. She wanted to meet up to decide which centerpieces worked best for the reception. Scattered across the table were three samples she and Kevin had narrowed it down to. With your thumb, while playing with a corner of the hand-drawn example closest to you, a sigh escaped your nose.

Your sister’s talent mesmerized you. Each storyboard showed the intricate detail of the flowers and candles themselves and what the tables would look like next to each other with every centerpiece. You were in awe.

“These are so good, Robbie! They must have taken forever to put together,” you said, admiring a different sample on the table.

“Nah,” she replied, brushing the compliment aside. “Just an afternoon’s time last week.”

“Well, shit. I hope they’re paying you the big bucks at work.”

She quirked an eyebrow devilishly as she reached for her drink. “You know it,” she jested before taking a sip.

You laughed at her cheekiness. Robyn had always been a go-getter. One of the many attributes you loved about her. Never took no for an answer.

“Soooo,” she drawled as she set her glass down. “How have you been?”

You looked up swiftly, eyeing her suspiciously before returning your gaze to the storyboard in your hands. “I’m still alive if that’s what you’re asking.” You set the drawing down to take a drink from your glass. “Haven’t been murdered yet, but the night is still young.”

Robyn rolled her eyes at your petulance. “You know I worry about you. Are you still texting James?”

You smiled sweetly. “Each day that goes by, you act more and more like Mom. You know that?”

Robyn scoffed. “I do not!”

She could deny it all she wanted, but Robyn was turning into the spitting image of your mother. You laughed again. “You do too. Even down to the eye roll.”

She folded her arms over her chest, waiting for you to answer her question.

Two could play this game.

You wiped the corner of your mouth with your napkin unhurriedly. “If you must know, yes, James and I are still texting.”

“Has he sent any dick pics or asked for nudes?” Robyn asked earnestly.

“Yup. We engage in wildly pornographic phone sex every night.”

Robyn glanced around the restaurant with eyes wide as saucers, making sure none of the other patrons heard you. “(Y/N), I’m serious! Has he propositioned you?”

You huffed a small laugh. “Nope,” you admitted. “In fact, he’s the one that wants to take things slow. He accidentally called me the other day and hung up from jitters.” Robyn didn’t need to know the full truth.

“The jitters?” Robyn queried.

“Yeah. I even called him back, but he let it go to voicemail.”

“Then, he must be weird or ugly.”

You grimaced at her assumption. “Ew, Robbie. Don’t be gross,” you chastised. “He’s the opposite of ugly. I might even go as far as to call him handsome.”

“How? You don’t know what he looks like,” Robyn questioned.

You took a quick sip of your drink, holding up a finger. “Au, contraire mon frère. He sent me a selfie in the very beginning.”

Robyn looked at you, perplexed. “You know you just called me your brother, right?”

You waved a hand at her to dismiss her accusation. “Ma soeur just doesn’t have the same ring to it.” You pulled your phone out to offer proof.

“You can barely see his face!” she exclaimed. “What if he’s horribly disfigured on the other side? Or missing an arm?”

You shrugged. “Then, he’s missing an arm.” You got a distant look in your eyes as you recalled the last ten days of texting with James. “He’s different, Robbie. He’s smart and funny and caring. Polite. It feels like he has an old soul. He calls me doll for chrissakes!”

“Are you sure he isn’t some crusty, old man?” Robyn gagged at the thought.

“No, I don’t,” you chuckled in response. The faraway look returned after a moment. “To me, he’s just James.”

Realization dawned on Robyn’s face, lighting her up like a light bulb. “Oh, my god. You like him.”

“Well, yeah,” you acknowledged, “he’s my friend.”

“No. You like him like him.”

Your face reddened quickly with the awareness of your feelings. They weren’t real, were they? Shaking your head, you replied, ”Nothing will happen, Robbie. It’s just a crush.”

Skeptically, she agreed, “Uh-huh.”

“What?”

“I believe that as much as I welcome a cold sore on my wedding day.” She scrunched her nose at the thought of a gross, red blemish on her face for her big day.

“Fine,” you acquiesced. “If I fall head over heels, madly in love with James by your wedding day, I’ll owe you a hundred bucks.”

Robyn raised a sculpted brow in interest. “I’m listening.”

“One hundred dollars. End of negotiation,” you stated. “I don’t have a spare hundred bucks, so it will be a motivator not to fall for James. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.”

She smiled smugly, shaking her head in disbelief. “Uh-huh.”

“Will you stop saying that?” you said, throwing a piece of lettuce at her face. “You definitely sound like Mom.”

Robyn huffed in annoyance, back-handing your shoulder softly. “Shuddup! I do not!”

You chortled heartily at the mini tantrum she was throwing about becoming Mom. You’d say anything at this point to get her to forget about you and James.

In all honesty, there was no you and James. Not really. You were friends, but could you move past that?

He was hiding something.

Something big.

And it wasn’t part of the whole “man of mystery” persona, either. James was holding back.

He had a hard time giving up anything personal to you that went beyond his likes and dislikes, which led you to believe he had found it difficult to trust.

It angered you deeply without really knowing why. Something in his past had sparked the inability. You only wish you knew what.

Deep down, you could really see yourself falling for James, and that scared you to death.

Breaking you from your reverie, Robyn piped up, “You know, James is probably jerking off to your voicemail.”

“Oh, absolutely!” you retorted, both of you dissolving into a giggling fit.

After leaving Robyn with a clear choice for centerpieces, you made your way back home. After a fifty-minute subway ride, you popped into the corner bodega for some essentials for the coming week.

Sauntering up the stairs to your third-floor walk-up, you steadied your armful of groceries with each step. It had been a long week, and now with the revelation of how you felt about James clouding your mind, a glass of wine, ice cream, and a bubble bath sounded good right about now.

You could barely see over the bags and juggled them precariously. As you stepped onto your floor, you recognized the voice of your next-door neighbor down the hall. He was talking with someone, but you couldn’t tell with whom or what about.

Blindly, you called out, “Hey, Peter? Can you be a lifesaver and help a neighbor out?” You heard the scuffle of footsteps over tile rush toward you.

Sighing in relief, you relinquished two bags to the arms reaching out. “Thanks, Pete! You’re a pe-”

You stopped mid-sentence when your view was finally cleared. Your sixteen-year-old neighbor wasn’t standing before you but a tall man with chestnut hair tied in a knot. Your lips parted slightly as your eyes widened to take in the figure’s full breadth holding your groceries.

Your eyes flicked to Peter as everything came back to focus. He was adjusting your other two bags in his arms.

“Miss (Y/L/N), this is Mr. Barnes from my Stark internship. He’s a friend. He was helping me with some history homework,” Peter explained, gesturing to the hulking man standing outside your apartment door.

“Peter,” you admonished, “how many times-” Last names weren’t meant to be spoken by friends slash neighbors.

Peter winced. “Right! Sorry, (Y/N)!” he apologized. “This is Bucky.”

Recognition crossed your face at the name. Smiling, you stuck out your hand in front of you. “Bucky Barnes, it’s nice to meet you.”

Bucky shifted one of your bags in his arms to reach out his hand. He smiled softly, “ Li-likewise.”  

Chapter Three | Chapter Five

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[jupitermelichios]

On a more possitive note, I’ve started watching Sword Art Online. It’s one of the worst things I’ve ever seen (and the last film I saw in cinemas was Cats to give you context for the scale i’m working on here) and I kind of adore it in much the same way I love garbage like Smallville or Twilight. It’s so stupid on so many levels. You could challenge someone to write the worst anime, and it would almost certainly be better than SAO. It’s almost hypnotic how terrible it is.

No one should watch this terrible terrible show so I therefore don’t feel at all bad that I’m about the spoil absolutely everything, but honestly if you do also hate-watch this please come talk to me about how terrible it is. I don’t know anyone else who watches it.

Highlights of Season 1 include:

everyone is trapped in an MMO, and if you die in the MMO you die IRL. but if you were a beta-tester you’re probably fine because they just let them keep all their levels and items from the testing, so they’re all massively OP and everyone just accepts this as a normal and non-game-breaking thing

it’s a fantasy MMO but there’s no races, no magic system, no weapons except swords and maces, and not even an option to dual wield - literally all you can do in this fucking game is stand in front of an enemy and mash the attack button. I’m pretty sure they’re trapped there because the devs realised no one would play this post launch-day otherwise because it’s boring as shit

when the villain traps everyone he also just changs all their avatars to look like they do IRL for absolutely no reason, like actually none, he doesn’t even say he thinks it would be funny, he just does it and no one questions it and it is literally never mentioned again because this is the worst TV show ever animated.

in the second episode the main character deliberately witholds information about how to defeat a boss, indirectly causing multiple deaths. there is absolutely no reason for him to withhold it, he was just being a jerk because he doesn’t like people

in the third episode they reset his entire personality and he’s now a selfless hero pretending to be a lower level than he really is so people will find him more relateable and be his friend because all he wants is to help people. this is not a consequence of episode 2, they just decided they didnt like the character as he’d previously been written.

he makes some new friends who are all objectively terrible people who have decided for no season that the twelve year old who doesn’t really know how to play and keeps having anxiety attacks about the very real possibility of death has to be the guild tank. the MC is high enough level to be functionally immortal in like half the levels, but doesn’t tell anyone this he just lets them go on bullying this child

none of his friends survive that episode, in the game or IRL. which is also a christmas epsiode. a child dies in battle because she’s a terrible tank and then a man commits suicide out of guilt, so then the main character murders santa to try and bring them back from the actual dead but it doesn’t work because again, this is a video game and they are dead IRL, so then he walks off into the snow alone. Christmas!

we meet the best character in the entire show in episode 4, Rosalia, who has gone evil and started just straight murdering people because she’s sick of being an attractive adult woman who can’t get a date because she’s surrounded by lolicons who are only interested in the preteen characters (not a joke, that comes up, the show is firmly on the side of the lolicons)

in the same episode we get an extended bra and panty sequence staring an actual fucking child, like canonically this character is maybe 13 at best. this is one of only 2 occaisions when they feel the need to undress a character and it’s the fucking 12 year old, it’s so gross it reads like a parody of itself

literally every single named female character aged over 8 who talks to the MC falls in love with him after like 5 minutes (and in season 2 this includes his actual sister). he shows absolutely no interest in any of them (including his sister, thank god) until...

the main character gets engaged to a girl he only knows from an MMO after a virtual single date (he doesn’t actually win her in a PVP match but only because he looses the match, he 100% canonically tries to win her in a match, which she is apparently fine with). he then doesn’t bother to ask for her real name until the final episode, he just calls her by her screen name

(that’s okay though becuase it turns out that this moron of a love interest used her real name, on a local server, in a game where your character looks like you do IRL, because apparently getting doxxed is her hobby)

they then get in-game married off screen. there’s not even like a still of a wedding photo. nothing. the main character proposes and then the show immediately jumps to the honeymoon, it’s fucking bizarre.

they find a creepy child dressed all in white with no memory alone in the woods a week into their honeymoon who starts calling them mommy and daddy literally seconds after they first meet her, and they don’t suspect anything suss is going on and adopt her

for hilarity bear in mind the main character may only be 15 at this point (he says he’s only just turned 16 in the last epsiode, but his actual birthday is never mentioned), and his virtual wifu is 16, but no one ever questions the marriage or the adoption, even though ‘hey marriage in a video game is as important and meaningful as marriage in real life’ is an actual conversation people have multiple times. also they think the child they adopt is an actual IRL 8 year old who thinks these randos she met in an MMO are her mum and dad and everyone just goes with that like it’s a totally normal thing

a character called ‘Thinker’ agrees to meet an enemy faction leader for peace talks. the “peace talks” take place in a high level dungeon and he is told to come alone with no weapons and no fast travel. he does this. no one ever comments that his name is ironic, and in fact they seem to think that being betrayed and trapped in a dungeon with a boss is a totally unexpected turn of events Thinker could never have planned for

they take their new baby into the dungeon to rescue thinker, because they went to the jean grey school of baby rearing, and she imediately reveals that she’s actually a magical maggufin with infinite power, murders the grim reaper, and then dies. In literally the second episode she’s in

after she dies the MC hacks the admin account of the game, converts her corpse into an in game item, and saves to the local storage on his console, with the intention of bringing her back to life as a robot once they’re saved from the game. I’m not joking, that’s an actual thing that happens.

the fact that the main character can just access the main admin account and make massive game-breaking changes isn’t used again in that game and he never thinks to try and use it to force log people out or give himself infinite life so he can just rush the game and free everyone. nope, convert a corpse into an item and then never think about it again.

there’s an entire episode where all they do is go fishing. its the only filler episode in the season, and it immediately follows the death of a small child. it’s the most tone-deaf beach episode in writing history

it turns out this game, this game where they didn’t bother coding in any difference races, weapons, or any kind of magic system, was intended to have fully sentient AI therapists, because why the fuck not at this point honestly

oh also the game has PVP and you can trick the game into thinking a sleeping player is in PVP with you in order to actually murder a real person without it flagging in-game as a murder making the crime impossible for the real life legal system to investigate even though you just murdered a person. and they expect us to believe this game had actual beta testers. at least cyberpunk wasn’t played on microwaves you connected straight to your brain (also not a joke, the VR consoles canonically work by sending microwave radiation into your brain, no wonder VR never caught on)

the set up for the show is that they have to reach level 100 of a dungeon in order to win. At level 75, the writers got bored and the show just ends.

it turns out the power of love allows you to just break the fucking game and the main villain literally has a line about how ‘love allows you to remove debuffs, huh, we didn’t think to plan for that’ because again, there’s no metaphors in this show, everything is 100% literal including the fact that falling in love with another player means you’re immune to the paralysis status effect

power of love also allows you to very briefly become a poltergeist after being killed, but only for like 2 seconds. again not a joke or a metaphor, main character is killed but then gets to hang around as a ghost for a little bit to enable him to defeat the boss. he also doesn’t die in real life despite that being the entire fucking premise of the show, again because power of love.

the bad guy literally has no plan, he’s just doing shit for the sake of having something to do. His actions directly cause the deaths of more than 4,000 people, and it’s not even in aid of anything. they ask him why he trapped 10,000 people in an MMO and allowed them to slowly die, and he’s just like ‘huh, i forgot i did that, random’ and then just fucking peaces out

the fact that he committed one of the largest mass killings outside of war never really comes up again, as far as we know he doesn’t even go to jail. i think the show actually kind of thinks he’s a good guy, which is a fucking WILD moral stance to take on the deaths of 4000 completely innocent people for absolutely no reason

If this sounds hilari-bad but you don’t want to invest the time to watch a show which is objectively garbage, it has an abridged series which is famously better than the show it’s parodying (i’m dead serious, people have character arcs, the getting married after one date thing is properly addressed, the mc has to deal with PTSD because of all his friends dying in epsidode 3, they don’t immediately follow the death of a child with an extended fishing montage, the villain has an actual plan). It’s mostly actually pretty good, but this is the internet and it’s an abridged series, so while there are a lot fewer yikes moments than most it still has enough that I’m not comfortable recommending it without the caveat. that said I still enjoyed it a lot, although possibly not at much as pointing and laughing at the garbage that is the actual show.

[snsknene]

hesitation, arthur/eames, 11k, read on ao3 here

~~~

Arthur was in a hotel room that was his favorite kind: it was old in a way that suggested it had let number of people through its doors and would let in more until it was finally demolished a hundred years from now, old in a way that meant slightly faded carpets but wood paneling to die for.

It had not been expensive. Arthur had a lot of money from the Fischer job, but it didn't mean it would last forever. Arthur was a sensible man.

Arthur was also in his favorite pair of pajamas. They were silk and they were grey and they felt like comfort. As this was a slightly old hotel room, it had a slightly old TV with a limited number of channels, and the channel that was on now was playing reruns of some trashy reality show. Arthur did not understand anything that was going on, but he was enjoying everything that was going on, enjoying the fact that he was watching scenes of frivolity instead of growing old in a nameless dreamscape. He had a glass of wine in his hand, and he’d just had a long bath, and his hair felt slightly damp against the nice clean pillow.

He was feeling rested. He was feeling rested because he deserved it.

Of course it was then, because that was Arthur’s life, that his phone rang.

Arthur turned his head to the side to look.

Cobb, of course. No one else could ruin Arthur's relaxation like Cobb did. It was a talent and the man’s true calling.

Arthur thought he would have had a break from all the Cobb drama once Cobb had successfully gotten through immigration at the airport but apparently Cobb lived to make his life an extended babysitting gig. Arthur thought, rather bitterly, that there were only so many things Cobb could do that Mal’s death could explain away. The line had to be drawn somewhere, even though Arthur had loved her so fully and completely.

But Arthur had loved her so fully and completely. That was the issue here. Those children were still hers. If anything happened to Cobb it would be Arthur who would have no choice but to move to LA for them, and Arthur hated the humidity.

He pressed answer.

“What do you need?” Arthur asked.

“Hello to you too,” said Cobb, in a manner calm enough that Arthur didn’t think there were any guns pointed to his temple. Arthur relaxed a bit. “I was calling to check in.”

“Check in,” Arthur repeated suspiciously.

“Can’t I check in?” Cobb asked innocently. “The children are asking after you.”

“I just saw them,” Arthur said. “Tell them I’ll come by soon.”

Cobb paused. “About that,” he said, in a sketchy sort of way.

“I knew it,” Arthur said. “I knew you were in trouble. What do you need, Cobb?”

“It’s not need,” Cobb said, but it was never need, was it? Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. “I’m not in trouble,” Cobb was saying. “I just need a favour.”

Arthur shook his head against the phone and looked at the television. A favour did mean Cobb’s life wasn’t in danger and his children weren’t possibly going to be orphans, which meant Arthur, for once, had the option of saying no. For the past two years, he’d shadowed Cobb while Cobb got progressively wilder around the eyes and took on steadily more dangerous jobs, and Arthur, thinking of Mal’s arms around his neck and Philippa’s wide sunny smile, hadn’t been able to say no.

“I owe him,” Cobb said. “Properly, and it’s either I do it, but it’ll be for a couple of months– the kids need stability–”

Arthur could imagine. Their mother dying and their father being publicly arrested for it had done wonders for their future therapists’ bank accounts.

“It’s an easy extraction,” Cobb said hopefully. “And I know you’ve done so much. But look, it’s me, here, calling in one last favour.”

Arthur had already made up his mind. He had meant to see the kids anyway. He could go stateside for a bit.

“There’s just one thing,” Cobb said. He sounded apologetic now.

“Uh-huh,” said Arthur, the sigh caught in his throat already telling him what it was.

“They need a forger,” said Cobb.

~~~

There were other forgers, of course. Good ones, competent ones even. But Arthur hated working with mediocrity when he could have excellence. Eames was – unfortunately! it couldn’t have happened to a more annoying person! – excellence.

Eames had also disappeared off the grid with his share of the Fischer payout.

Which was all very well and good. Another sign of excellence, actually. Arthur had been planning to be off the grid for at least a month more with a job as high profile and risky as that. However, this made things more complicated for Arthur, because Eames’ ability to disappear was also excellent.

Arthur wasn’t Dominic Cobb’s point man for no reason. It took him nine days, but he found out where Eames was.

Eames was back home.

As off the grid went, it was still pretty on there. It was more likely people in the dreamsharing community could have seen him and recognised him. But they hadn’t yet, which also spoke to Eames’ unfortunately extensive abilities.

~~~

London reminded Arthur of Mal. Most big cities reminded him of Mal, because Mal had loved big cities. In fact, she had loved them so much she had thrown herself off a skyscraper in her most favourite city, and therefore ruined it forever for Arthur.

Luckily, while being a big city, London held no such specific memory for him. He had been there a couple of times on jobs, but those had been quick turnarounds. His strongest memories there were of hotel rooms with grey drizzly views and bad bland hotel food. He hadn’t gone around the city at all. The drizzle and food had put him off. “That’s the best they can come up with?” he remembered asking Cobb, who had merely looked, despondent and wild-eyed as ever, at the bangers and mash they had sent up.

Arthur had pinpointed the area Eames was staying, and could have waited for him there, but he figured it would look more impressive to find him where he was. Arthur ignored the little Mal-voice that asked why he had to look impressive to Eames. It took him the rest of the afternoon to track him down for the day. He was at the Tate Modern.

Arthur scanned his ticket and stepped inside the exhibition space. He combed the exhibitions until he found Art and Media, until he found a room which consisted of a large screen flashing bright unsettling images in 0.1 second bursts at its unsuspecting audience, or so the description outside promised.

Eames looked anything but unsuspecting. His face was intent. His skin was awash with the quick flicking colours of the screen, red and yellow and neon green and red red red again. When Arthur reached him he said, low, turning his head a bit, “Ah. Arthur.”

He said it Arrrthur, actually, in that annoying way he had. “Eames,” Arthur said, determined to be polite. Arthur was always determined to be polite at the beginning of every job they worked together. Eames always brought that resolve crumbling down.

“Are you in danger, Arthur?” Eames asked.

“No,” Arthur said.

“Ah,” Eames said knowingly. “A job then.”

Because Arthur made it a point to acknowledge Eames was right as little as possible, he didn’t answer, and they both stared at the screen for a while. The quick-flash images did feel quite unsettling, but the pictures didn’t last long enough for Arthur to catch what they were and why they unsettled him. He supposed that was the point. There was only colour to remember, mauve and cobalt and red red red again, colours that pressed against his eyelids.

“Are you actually enjoying this?” he asked at last.

Out of the corner of his eye, Eames shifted a bit. “No,” he said. “But we don’t need to enjoy art to appreciate it.”

“We don’t need to waste time on art we don’t enjoy,” countered Arthur.

Eames started walking out of the room then, so Arthur followed. “It’s enough that we feel the art,” he said, still low and unbearably pretentious. “Don’t you, Arthur? Doesn’t it make you uncomfortable? Doesn’t it make you long for more, or less, or something different?”

Arthur took a quick glance back into the room as they left it. The images were still flashing and the colours were still bursting.

Out of the room, Eames was visible without neon lights washing over him. Arthur noted that his hair was slightly shorter and even though he was still wearing a terrible sports jacket over terrible cargo pants, he looked well-rested. Without preamble Arthur said: “There’s an extraction–”

“Alright,” said Eames. “Hello to you too. Anyway, I can’t make it.” He turned on his heel and started walking in the direction of the exit.

“What do you mean you can’t make it?” Arthur asked, hating that Eames made him do stupid things like rush to keep up with him.

“I’m terribly busy,” Eames said, walking down the escalator.

“You’re not exactly doing much,” Arthur observed.

“Well I am,” said Eames. “So there.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yes I am.” This was veering dangerously into playground territory, like things usually did with Eames. Arthur thought about what might sway him.

“There’s a lot of money in it,” he said, knowing it wouldn’t help much.

“I haven’t exactly managed to go into debt since we were last paid more than we’d ever need in two lifetimes, sweetheart,” Eames said, hiking stupid aviators on and walking out the glass doors.

“It’s a favour,” Arthur said, then hesitating, because he couldn’t exactly say ‘to Cobb’. Eames was probably still furious at the fact that Cobb had nearly let them spend eternity inside their own heads and walked off contentedly into the sunset and his kids after. He’d said as much in the airport bar three months ago. That was how they’d left things, snappish, which explained why Eames wasn’t immediately being teasing and flirtatious and smirky in Arthur’s general direction.

Arthur didn’t miss it, of course not. This was almost professional of Eames, which had to be an upgrade.

“Oh?” Eames said, stopping and looking at Arthur, but his face was inscrutable behind the shades. Outside, it was cool with autumn weather, watery sunlight filtering through the leaves above Eames.

“To me. I’d owe you one,” Arthur said. He didn’t know why he let Cobb make him do things like this. He had loved Mal fully and completely, but surely she wouldn’t have wanted him to lose all his dignity in this way.

“You’d owe me one,” Eames repeated, sounding slightly delighted.

The wind ruffled his hair a bit. In the watery sunlight it looked watery gold.

“Yes,” said Arthur.

Eames looked at Arthur inscrutably behind his shades, and Arthur looked back, knowing Eames would call it in at the worst time, probably one day when Arthur was reclining in a hotel room, thinking of nothing but comfort.

“Alright then,” Eames said eventually. “But either way, I can’t go now. I’ll be ready in about a month or so.”

He set off again, in the direction of the pier. Arthur set off after him, annoyed that he was continuing to be difficult, just because they’d had a disagreement. “Why can’t you be ready now?”

“I said I’m busy, darling,” Eames drawled, reaching the edge of the pier and looking out at the river.

Arthur let him stare out at the Thames for long moments before he dripped sarcasm into his voice. “Yeah, I can see work’s really piling up.”

Eames sighed and removed his glasses, folding his arms and looking directly at Arthur. “I’m not messing with you, Arthur. I do have things I need to do here. If the job’s not urgent I’ll be there in a month.” Like this, Arthur could see that his eyes were the colour of the river and the sky, that he was better-shaven than on the job but he was stubbly still, that he had gained some weight and filled out his horrid sports jacket and terrible cargo points. He looked well-rested, it was true. He looked relaxed. He did not look like he was lying.

Arthur, impatient in this grey city with the grey sky and the bad food, called his bluff anyway. “Fine.”

“Fine,” said Eames, turning back to the sunset.

“Fine,” said Arthur.

After a bit Eames narrowed his eyes at Arthur. “I see you’re not leaving.”

“I’ll hang around here,” Arthur said, not at all childishly. “Help out with the job if it makes things go faster.”

“You’ll hang around here,” Eames repeated blankly.

“Why not?” Arthur asked. “I could use a change of pace. I haven’t seen much of this place.” He waved a hand at the Thames, signifying the city.

Eames suddenly looked considering, one eyebrow raised. He shrugged, and Arthur could see the beginnings of amusement in his eyes. “I could use your help, actually,” he said. His tone had changed too: lighter, more like the unprofessional behaviour Arthur knew and did not love.

Arthur had done his research. He knew Eames didn’t have dreamsharing work in London. “Let’s go, then,” he said, hoping Eames would give this up sooner rather than later, admit he didn’t actually have a job and let Arthur get started on his last Cobb favour.

In answer, Eames started heading down a flight of stairs on the pier that led to the riverbank. Arthur scowled. He could see stones and sand, pigeons excited to shit all over his Saville Row. He followed him down anyway.

Eames stood on the riverbank, dirty filthy water nearly reaching his lumberjack boots. He bent down to pick up a pebble. Arthur kept his distance as Eames skipped it smoothly on the surface, tap tap tap splash. “You’re going to love London, darling,” he called back to Arthur, picking up another pebble. “I’ll take you around and everything.”

~~~

Eames took him back to his place in Richmond, the flat that Arthur had scoped out already. It was in a nice neighbourhood, and the apartment itself was woodsy and rich, dark plush furniture and paintings that swirled warmly.

“So what is it?” Arthur said, getting impatient. They’d taken the tube. Arthur massively disliked the tube. It was hot and sweaty and next time they were taking a car, but Eames had insisted on an authentic London experience. “Who’s it involve?”

“Patience, sweetheart. You’ll see,” Eames told him, stripping off the sports jacket and revealing an awful brown t-shirt underneath. It was ripped, but not artfully, like a designer had planned it, more like mice had gotten into his closet. “We’re going there now.”

“You could try being less mysterious,” Arthur suggested.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Eames asked.

Honestly it felt kind of ridiculous, because Arthur knew there was no job. But he kind of wanted to see where Eames would bring him, how Eames would play it out, how eventually he would say You win darling and Arthur could drag him back to LA in satisfaction, because Eames brought out that incredibly petty side of him.

Eames took him for a walk around the neighbourhood. They were in the cool dark air, streetlights washing over them glowingly, time and time again. Little noises emanated from the flats they passed, sounds of dinners and nightly routines and familiarity. “Eames,” Arthur said, after exactly eighteen minutes of walking.

“It’s just here, Arthur,” Eames said. This seemed nonsensical. They crossed a playground. Eames walked up to a blue door and knocked.

Arthur began to reconsider. Perhaps they really was a job, an up and coming extractor, a new team. Sure, Eames hadn’t taken jobs like that before, small ones without the chance of big payouts, but maybe he was rolling with it now he was rolling in it.

A woman opened the door. She was heavily pregnant.

Before Arthur had a chance to gape, she was looking at Eames, saying, “Finally!” and leaned out of the door to kiss him on the cheek, before cuffing him gently about the head. “You said you’d be here an hour ago.”

She was very pretty, with wavy chestnut hair and large eyes and the same sort of carelessness of manner as Eames had, her posture easy and her gestures expansive.

“I was waylaid,” Eames said, after kissing the top of her head and tilting his head at Arthur.

“Oh, hello, come in!” Eames’s girlfriend? wife? pregnant with his child? said to Arthur, smiling brightly at him. “Who’s this?” she added to Eames as she turned to go back in.

“This is Arthur,” Eames said, stretching it out again, and levelling a grin at Arthur before following her into the flat. “He’ll be joining us for dinner.”

Arthur wasn’t sure how he was feeling. Appalled, slightly, of course, that Eames flirted like a madman and especially with Arthur and there had been times even–once or twice–after a job that they had looked at each other, exhilarated and knowing, and something in Eames eyes had softened and Arthur hadn’t known what to make of it and–well! He knew what to make of it now.

This selection of thoughts happened in quick succession and he was moving across the threshold, into a cosy, warm sort of place that smelled of spaghetti and contained Eames, sitting in a messy living room with what looked like a two-or-three year old clinging to his leg.

Two kids. The things one could keep from co-workers they’d known for years–Arthur hadn’t seen it crop up, even once. The child, golden-haired and babbling, was trying to climb onto Eames’s lap, and he was smiling down at her and talking to her lowly and adoringly. Arthur wrenched his eyes away. He tried not to stare, feeling his stomach churn. Instead he moved left, into the kitchen where the spaghetti was boiling and the woman stirred at it.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m Arthur.”

“I’m Rosie,” she said, turning to stick a hand out. “Sorry the house doesn’t look great–Will didn’t tell me he was bringing anyone–”

“Sounds like him,” he said, and Rosie grinned. “It looks great, don’t worry about it.”

Her gaze turned considering, and she looked a lot like Eames when it happened. Eames had married(?) a second him, of course he had, the self-absorbed dickhead. “You work with Will?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Arthur uncomfortably, wondering how much she knew about dreamsharing. “We–work–we’ve worked together. I was in town.”

“Hmmm,” she said slowly. “He’s never brought anyone back. You really must be special.”

“Oh,” said Arthur. He tried to look across to Eames for help, but Eames was already looking back at Rosie, with an expression that looked like exasperation. Why had Eames brought him back, anyway? Sure, he and Arthur were acquaintances, almost friends, but Arthur hadn’t even heard he had two kids. Eames had kept it from everyone, and well and good for him too, you never knew who you could trust. He’d probably brought him back here tonight probably because he wanted to one-up Arthur who was ridiculously following him in London about a job, showing him look I have a life, what can you say to that? Well, he’d won. Arthur was hightailing it out of here tonight, because this was just weird.

Eames stood up. “Arthur,” he said. “I see you’ve met Rosie. And this is Lily.” Lily squirmed happily in his arms and stuck out her hand. Arthur had to exit the kitchen and head to the sofa to take it.

“This is Arthur,” Eames said to Lily, turning his head to kiss her cheek. “Say hi Arthur.”

“Hi Ar-fur,” Lily said. Arthur was helplessly charmed by this. “Hello, Lily,” he said seriously.

“He’s come to ask me to go back to work and leave you alone,” Eames said sadly to her.

Arthur hadn’t known he’d had a kid. “I didn’t know you had a kid,” he said, while Lily reached up to touch Eames’s hair. “Unca Wew,” she babbled, which just sounded like nonsense.

“Yes, Lily,” Eames cooed. “Evil Arthur’s taking Uncle Will away from you.”

“Uncle,” Arthur said inadvertently. Eames looked up at him before he could school his features into a neutral expression, and his mouth curved up into a wicked grin. “Why, Arthur,” he said, drawing it out longer than ever, “who did you think I was to Lily?”

“I wasn’t sure,” Arthur said, glaring.

“Perhaps I should have specified. I see you’ve met my sister, Rosie, and this is my niece, Lily,” Eames announced, too amused for his own good.

Rosie called from the kitchen and through a cloud of steam, “Stop teasing him. You know you should have said.”

“Though I find it slightly offensive,” Eames continued, looking at Arthur, “that you thought I was frequently jetsetting around the world away from my wife and child, with another one on the way. I’ve worked with you four times over the last year.”

“I wasn’t thinking that,” Arthur lied.

“You wound me, Arthur,” Eames informed him, grey eyes quite serious. Arthur had no idea if he’d really offended him or not.

“William,” Rosie said. “Be nice. And come and eat.”

They sat around the dining table, Lily in the high chair kicking her little legs out. The spaghetti was slightly overcooked but the sauce was warm and rich, and Arthur hadn’t had anything to eat all day. Eames and Rosie bickered at each other lightly. Arthur could see it now, the similarities in their features and manner: their storm-coloured eyes, the drawl, their sarcasm and clear affection for each other.

“Have you known Will long, Arthur?” Rosie asked speculatively.

“Years,” Arthur said. “On and off.”

“We work together a lot,” Eames said, throwing a quelling look at Rosie. Perhaps he didn’t want her to know about the work. “Arthur’s here to offer me another job.”

“Sorry it has to wait,” Rosie said apologetically. “Will promised he’d stay here until the baby’s born, which hopefully is in about three weeks as my feet can’t take it anymore. My husband’s stuck in Switzerland and he won’t be able to be here in time.”

“That’s very… kind of him,” Arthur said.

Eames smiled smugly at this, as if he knew what it took for Arthur to admit this in public. “I know it is,” he said, preening. “I am in fact an extremely excellent brother.”

“So,” Rosie said innocently. “Arthur, this is actually quite novel. I’m sure friends of Will have been in town before and he’s never brought them to dinner.”

“It’s just dinner,” Eames said.

“Is it?” Rosie asked.

“It’s not like that,” Eames said, annoyed now. “Arthur’s a friend I trust. That’s rare.”

“Is he,” Rosie said, emphasizing the words.

Eames threw a look up to the heavens. Arthur swallowed another forkful of spaghetti. Rosie said, “I’m messing with you, Willy,” and ruffled his hair. Eames turned to throw another exasperated look at Arthur, like he was in on it with him.

Arthur realised he’d never seen Eames like this: fond, affectionate, loose and relaxed. On a job there was always the element of danger and Arthur saw it in the line of his shoulders, the glint in his eyes, and appreciated knowing there was someone else who was keeping an eye out, just like he always was. But now Eames was feeding Lily carefully, using a thumb to wipe the food dribbling down her chin, and kicking at his sister’s chair. He looked at home here. It was something Arthur did not know how to process. It felt nonsensically like something inside him, not Eames, had been exposed to the world.

~~~

Arthur, having helped wash the dishes, opened the door to Eames sitting on the front steps. Eames quirked a brow and scooted slightly to the side, so Arthur sat down beside him.

“Thanks for the help with the dishes,” Arthur said pointedly.

“I helped with dinner,” Eames said blithely.

Arthur held off the Barely and instead accused him, “You said you had work here.”

“Did I?” Eames asked, turning towards him slightly. “I remember saying I was busy, and I had things to do here.” Thoughtfully, he decided, “I believe you implied that it was a job, darling.”

“Whatever,” Arthur said, feeling just slightly foolish about sounding like a teenager. “Anyway. I should get back.”

There was a little pause.

“Should you?” Eames asked. “You said you’d…” He made a little humming sound. “Hang around here. Help out with the job.”

“Well,” Arthur said. “There is no job.”

“I could still use some help.” Eames grinned rakishly, then it faded. “It’d only be a few weeks, and then we’d get on with it. I could show you around the city,” he said, looking down suddenly, up at Arthur again inscrutably. He ran his hand through his hair, looking unfairly good in the lamplight, softer, almost more uncertain. “You said you hadn’t seen much of it.”

Arthur didn’t know what he was thinking. He was thinking, though, of how the Cobb job could wait, it wasn’t urgent. How he did perhaps want to go to Saville Row itself, about how the city was grey but curious in the autumn light. How Eames looked in this apartment, easy and familiar and familial, and how perhaps it was strange, surreal, something he’d like to see more of.

He said, “I guess I haven’t.”

~~~

Back in the hotel room, in the shower, he considered what he’d agreed to, which was nothing at all. Rosie had retired to bed, complaining that her back was killing her, and Eames had started to tend to a fussing Lily.

“You don’t have to leave now,” he had told Arthur.

“I don’t want to get in the way,” Arthur said.

Lily sniffled in Eames’s arms. He bounced her a little and looked at Arthur, something fond in it. “You’re never in the way, darling.”

Lily let out a little cry. Arthur said, “Put her to bed.”

Eames had asked, “Do you have a hotel?”

“Yes.”

“Okay then,” Eames said. Very casually, he said, “I’ll see you soon?”

Arthur said, “I still need a tour guide,” and watched Eames smile. It had felt like more than a goodnight. He stepped out of the shower and changed into soft, silk pyjamas, settled himself into the bed.

The room was smaller than his last one, and it was sleeker, more modern. It had a mounted television and large, floor-to-ceiling windows. Arthur turned on his side and looked out the window at the calm expanse of city lights. At night London wasn’t grey and dreary; at night it was like any other big city. He supposed a couple of weeks here wouldn’t be so bad.

Arthur wondered if Eames was asleep, perhaps collapsed onto the futon, perhaps back in his own bed in his own apartment. He realised he’d essentially agreed to be taken around the city by him. Eames, forger extraordinaire, flirt and friend and bane of Arthur’s life. Taken around like it was–some kind of–like he was stepping out into town with his gentleman caller, or something. Arthur rolled back onto his back and stared up at the dark ceiling.

Probably it was because Eames had thrown him off today with the familyness of it all. Eames was usually sharp-edged like Arthur and usually thrived in loud casinos and bare-knuckled brawls and chaotic dreamscapes, and seeing him today so easy and relaxed, Arthur just hadn’t recovered from it. But Eames would take him to a few overpriced tourist attractions, flirt and be ignored by Arthur, be familiar and uncomplicated to banter with, and then they’d go back to work, to the dynamic Arthur knew and knew well.

~~~

Arthur woke up to his phone ringing. He mumbled something incomprehensible and squinted at the caller ID.

“Eames,” he mumbled.

“Rise and shine!” Eames said chirpily. “Lily woke me up at six so now you’re up too. I’ll see you at the National Gallery at ten.” He hung up.

Arthur checked the time. Six fifteen. Bane of Arthur’s life, constant sigh caught in his throat. He set an alarm blearily and went back to sleep.

At nine fifty seven he was waiting at the entrance for Eames, who turned up at ten fifteen.

“Arthur!” he said. He was wearing a shirt with large orange stripes down the sides, and his linen pants brushed against the floor. His hair was slicked back today.

“You’re late,” said Arthur.

Eames smiled a bit. “I wasn’t expecting you to show up.”

“Why not?”

“I thought I was going to have to drag you from your hotel room,” said Eames. He looked Arthur up and down, slow and considering. “Come on, then.”

Eames wandered from room to room, asking Arthur things like, “Do you like this one?” and watching Arthur closely as he said “No,” and “It’s interesting,” and “I guess.” They passed Vermeer, Titian, Cézanne. Arthur liked Gossart, squinted at Monet, and paused in front of Matisse’s Portrait of Greta Moll. Greta stared somewhere off-right, sleeves rolled up and one elbow leaning against the table. She looked casual and impatient and restless, something about her spirit captured even through the broad brushstrokes.

“It’s like she’s about to speak,” Arthur said. “Like she’s about to say ‘are we done already?’”

Eames huffed a little laugh. Arthur felt him, against his side, a warm bulky breathing presence. Eames always smelled like something light and woodsy, something clean and attractive. “Is that your favourite so far?” he asked.

“Yes,” Arthur said. Eventually, he asked, “What do you like?”

“Hrm,” Eames said. He rubbed a hand against his scruff, the scratchy sound louder in the quiet room. He brought Arthur up the stairs to Room 43. Johan Barthold Jongkind’s River Scene hung there and looked back at them.

Something about the scene was mournful: the darker colours, the singular man over the boat. Boats were on the riverbank and a ship was in the distance, everything bathed in colours that felt like evening. Arthur thought of the end of a long day.

“It’s peaceful,” Eames said.

“It’s lonely,” Arthur said.

They watched the painting.

“Maybe he’s setting off into the sunset,” Eames said. “Or maybe he’s cleaning up and going home.” He made a soft humming sound. “Don’t you wonder? It’s all up to him.”

Later, they went to a kebab shop a few streets down. There were only four tables there and it was dimly lit and smelled a lot like sanitiser, but it was the best kebab Arthur had ever had. Eames rubbed some mayonnaise off his own cheek with his thumb, said smugly, “I knew you’d like it.”

“Uh huh,” said Arthur, unable to speak articulately around a mouthful of delicious doner.

“I’m going to make you love London,” Eames said, self-satisfied. “You’re going to want to come here all the time.”

“Mm-mm,” Arthur said, in lieu of Yeah sure. But I will admit this food is incredible and I might come back just for it.

“So,” Eames said, casually after a few more bites, “how’s Cobb?”

Arthur stiffened, just a bit. Cobb, the reason they’d left each other irritated the last time. “Doing fine,” he said. “With his kids.”

“Working?” Eames asked.

“Eames,” Arthur said warningly.

“He should never work again,” Eames said shortly. “If it were anyone else… I wouldn’t be able to trust them again.”

This was the point in the airport bar where Arthur, head still full of Mal’s manic eyes, her familiar voice, the thought of her children, had snapped, You wouldn’t understand why he did it. Eames had turned cold, said snidely, My well of sympathy ran dry when he nearly drove us insane doing it.

“I know,” was what Arthur said now. If it had been anyone else Arthur would have driven them out of the industry. He stabbed furiously at a chip. “I know.”

Eames watched him but didn’t press it, somehow knew not to press it.

~~~

On Tuesday Eames took him to the British Museum. He spent most of his time pointing out displays that were easier to steal than others. “It’s all okay,” he said to Arthur, “they’re all stolen anyway.” Arthur learned three new ways of getting past CCTV cameras after a museum was closed, watching Eames’ plush mouth murmur illegal ideas delightedly at him, and considered it time well-spent.

On Wednesday he took him to the London Zoo. They spent most of their time with the bats, the rainforest enclosure. It was damp and humid there, made Arthur think of Singapore, or Indonesia. He liked the bats. They were soft, furry things and once in a while they’d swoop over Arthur’s head. Eames enquired after the sloth and the spiders and spent a lot of time watching the rats scampering on the jungle floor.

On Thursday they went to the cinema. (“I thought we were going to Odeon,” Arthur said. He looked down at the dusty carpets and up the water stain he saw on the low ceiling. “Dream bigger,” Eames said, and led him into a little hall with only four faded rows that smelled of stale popcorn.) The opening credits to In A Lonely Place started playing, and Eames settled back, mouthing along happily, “Dix Steele, how are you?” To Arthur, he said, like a well-loved secret, “I used to come here after school.” Arthur thought of a younger Eames in his uniform, amongst these faded seats, large-eyed, wondering, amazed at the screen. Dreaming.

~~~

On Friday Arthur woke up without a call from Eames. Bleary-eyed, he texted him: No touristing today?

Eames replied rosie has checkup 2day gotta take her

Arthur’s fingers hovered over the screen. He typed back Who’s watching Lily?

Eames said, she was gonna come w us but if ur volunteering 2 babysit

Arthur didn’t have anything on, so he said out loud, “Okay.” He typed Okay.

Eames replied ???????? which didn’t make any sense so Arthur got his clothes on and ordered a car over to Rosie’s house. Eames opened the door, Lily at his heels. He squinted at Arthur, squinting a little more, looking a little like Cobb with all the squinting. Arthur considered telling him that, but Eames, who could hold a grudge against dangerous incompetence, would probably not appreciate it very much.

“Ar-fur,” Lily greeted him, while Eames squinted.

This seemed to jolt him into speech. “You’re actually… babysitting.”

Arthur shrugged. “I babysit Cobb’s kids all the time. Hi, Lily.”

Rosie shouted, “Who’s that?”

“Arthur’s come to babysit,” Eames called over his shoulder, then turned back to do more squinting at Arthur.

“Has he!” Rosie said. “Why didn’t you tell me? That’s so nice Arthur. Lily hates the doctor’s office, I was already gearing up for a spectacular meltdown… come in. Will, let him in, why are you still out there?”

Eames pressed against the wall for Arthur to enter. Rosie came out, her bump looking even bigger, if that was possible, and started reeling off a list about Lily: lunch, playtime, nap, favourite toys, no sweets after four. “We’ll only be a couple of hours,” she said, “but just in case the waiting is longer…” Arthur nodded and kept up. Eames trailed after them, still quiet.

“Lily, sweetie,” he said, after Rosie had grabbed her keys, thanked Arthur again, and headed out to the car, “be good for Arthur. No messes please, he’ll have a breakdown.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. Eames bent down to kiss her on top of her soft golden head, then straightened up, quite close to Arthur. He still looked vaguely puzzled, like he was trying to figure something out.

“Pizza’s in the fridge. No boys over, young lady,” he said after a moment, the corner of his ridiculous mouth curling up. Arthur rolled his eyes again with emphasis.

“Say bye bye now Lily,” he said, sinking down cross-legged on the carpet with her. She waved up at Eames and tugged at Arthur’s wrist, pointing at the box of blocks she wanted him to unpack for her.

“Don’t miss me too much, darling,” Eames said, walking away.

~~~

Lily was a very charming child, stacking blocks up on top of each other and making noises that were sometimes words at Arthur. “See, Ar-fur,” she said, constantly, waving a hand, so Arthur saw her construct a tall castle-like structure, ride a toy pony crashing through it with Eamesian dramatics. She took her lunch without fuss and watched an episode of Creatures of the Sea fascinatedly after, clapping at dark underwater images of the giant squid. Arthur studied her and thought she had Rosie’s brown curls, and her eyes–Rosie’s eyes, Eames’s eyes, stormy and grey-green and bright with intelligence.

But even very charming children realised that their mother and uncle had been gone for almost two hours, and began to cry about it.

“Oh, Lily,” Arthur said. “I know. They’ll be back soon.”

“Mama,” she sobbed heartrendingly. “Unca Wew.”

Arthur took her in his arms. She went trustingly, but continued to cry. “Do you want to go to the playground, Lily?” She shook her head. “No? Yeah, it’s probably naptime, isn’t it?” He got up and started bouncing her gently like he’d seen Eames do. She wailed and wailed.

It reminded him of Philippa. It reminded him of Philippa, younger and fretful, with Mal saying “Arthur, she hasn’t stopped crying for ages!” and looking close to tears herself. Arthur had stayed with Philippa until she’d stopped crying, her sobbing turning into hiccups, while Mal had snored on the sofa, drooling and relieved of her duties for a blessed few hours. He’d stayed with James, too, and now he stayed with Lily, missing Mal abstractly and tiredly.

She fell asleep, finally, and three and a half hours after they’d left, Eames and Rosie returned. Rosie made noises of gratitude, telling Arthur everything was fine medically, but she also seemed exhausted, going to the room and announcing that she was putting her feet up and no one disturb her until dinner please.

Eames stood there levelling that considering look he’d been using a lot on Arthur lately. “I didn’t know you still babysat Cobb’s kids.”

Eames had known Mal, but distantly; he’d only known her through Cobb and work. Mal had stayed home more after the kids were born. He’d known that Arthur had been her best friend, or at least he’d known they were close. The first job they worked after her death, he’d offered Cobb his condolences, but in a quiet moment he’d also told Arthur he was sorry.

Sometimes Arthur had complained about working with Eames to Mal. Mal had rolled her eyes and said “Oh, Arthur,” and asked for a dossier on him. After looking through it she’d just said, “Oh, Arthur, oh, Arthur,” and from then on would just smile at him teasingly, smile at him like she was happy whenever Arthur complained. If she could see him now, in London, in Eames’s territory, smiling over his niece… but she couldn’t. Whatever thoughts she’d gotten into her ridiculous romantic head, she was gone now, and Arthur was still here.

“Yeah,” Arthur said. Suddenly it felt too warm in the cluttered living room, and he forced himself not to loosen his tie. He needed the coolness of his hotel room.

“We owe you dinner,” Eames said, propped against the wall with his shoulder. His hands were shoved in his jeans; his head was bent, looking up at Arthur in a way that was very unprofessional, very inviting.

“Actually I’m going to head back,” Arthur said, picking up his jacket and avoiding his eyes. “I’ll pick up something on the way.”

“Oh. Hmm.” Eames shoved himself upright and didn’t argue, like Arthur had thought he maybe would. “Okay, Arthur.”

~~~

On Saturday Eames didn’t text him. Arthur lay in bed until eleven, which was unlike him, and ordered himself breakfast. It was an English Breakfast, whatever that meant, and the eggs were kind of runny, which Arthur didn’t like, and the sausages were slightly too salty for his taste. Arthur had gotten used to his English meals over the past couple of days being little places where Eames knew the owners, where he would moan around mouthfuls and try not to blush at Eames watching him do it. Eames knew what he liked, that was what happened when you’d worked with each other coming up six years, and he’d been taken Arthur places he knew Arthur would enjoy.

Eames. Arthur turned his head and groaned into his pillow. This was why he kept his distance. He’d always known Eames meant danger. The bane of Arthur’s life, that’s what he was. It was all very well and good when Mal had been alive and it was a distant, maybe sort of delightful possibility to unravel, maybe in an abandoned warehouse when the rest of the team were taking the day off, maybe celebrating a job well done with whiskey in a dimly lit room…

But now Mal was gone, and Arthur couldn’t forget it, couldn’t forget the day he���d gotten the call and gone blank all over. He’d loved Mal so fully and completely and he hadn’t ever loved anyone like that before her, and he’d always known–so had Mal–that if he allowed himself to, he would love Eames like that, except even fiercer, even fuller, with everything he had inside him. If a call like that came for Eames he would not be able to deal with it. He just wouldn’t.

~~~

On Sunday Eames called. “How do you feel about Camden?” he asked, sort of formally. He hadn’t really asked before. He’d demanded Arthur’s presence at the museum, the gallery, the cinema.

“I don’t know much about Camden,” Arthur told him.

“Would you like to know more?” Eames asked very neutrally.

Arthur took a deep breath. Eames, neutral and asking, and Arthur was in too deep for no. “A tour guide would help.”

Camden was touristy and busy and sunny and noisy, full of bright stalls and small shops that promised a multitude of things from inside its doors. They walked along the market and Arthur peered at colourful little knickknacks that he wanted to take home to either his mantelpiece or Philippa. Eames pored over the covers of books with spines that looked like they were crumbling. Arthur eventually lost him in an antique store and he came out carrying a heavy long bronze giraffe, its neck as long as his arm.

“This reminded me of you, darling! Look at how graceful and slender it is!” he exclaimed to Arthur, who resolutely refused to help him carry it home. Eames called him cruel and impetuously bought a shopping trolley to cart it along.

“You know, I don’t really mean to rag on Cobb,” Eames said later in the day, the giraffe trailing behind him patiently, Arthur pretending it wasn’t there. He caught the look on Arthur’s face and amended, “Or, I do. I really do. It’s just that it’s not just him. It’s other people he’s risking, being in that frame of mind.”

“Yeah, I know,” Arthur said, squinting away from the late afternoon sun and into Eames’s direction. He did know. Eames was full of bullshit that drove Arthur wild for a myriad of reasons, but he was excellent, always professional, and Arthur trusted him with his body and his mind. Perhaps now that Cobb had done what he had, Eames was the only one he trusted with his body and his mind. “You can’t trust him. He put you in danger.”

“He put you in danger, Arthur,” Eames said. He was looking fully at Arthur, storm-eyes steady and eyelashes tinged gold; Arthur swallowed and looked back. “And I’m not very known for playing it safe, but surely you know by now that’s a risk I’m not willing to take.”

Arthur swallowed again.

The moment held.

Eames’ phone rang.

“What? Rose, what?” he said. He looked urgent and intense, capable. Arthur took in a breath as the moment dissipated. “Okay. Okay. I’ll be there.” He hung up and fumbled with his screen. “I think she’s in labour.”

“I’ll stay with Lily,” Arthur said. Eames nodded at him distractedly and gratefully. When the car came he left his trolley behind in his hurry, so Arthur trailed it patiently after himself; Eames turned around and almost collided with him.

“Arthur, you remembered,” he said, grabbing at the handle and smiling at him, the look bright and completely focused. “What would I do without you.”

~~~

Rosie was not in labour. It was false labour, Braxton Hicks contractions, and they returned home in the late evening. Lily had been coaxed to the park, begging Arthur to push her higher and higher on the swings, so she had hardly noticed their absence. She ran up and to her mother, grabbing at her leg. Rosie ruffled her hair and took her hand.

“She’s supposed to be on bed rest,” Eames said. “Rose, get in there right now.”

“I just want this thing out,” Rosie said bleakly, looking down at her belly.

They got her settled in her bedroom and she lay there, complaining once in a while about her back and her feet and her bladder and the general unfairness of the world. Eames, clearly trying to distract her, talked about the nurse who had given him directions to someone else’s room and how he’d entered the room to a wide-eyed woman and her husband, who screamed at him in Italian to leave.

“What are you planning to call him?” Arthur asked, after Eames had exhausted his stories and Rosie looked more exasperatedly amused than frustratedly exasperated.

“Will,” Rosie said, smiling.

Eames frowned. “You know I hate that name.”

“Well if you won’t use it anymore, I might as well give it to this kid,” Rosie said, unperturbed. To Arthur, she said, “William Walliams wasn’t a very good look for Mum and Dad, I’ll give him that.”

Arthur pressed his lips together, stifling the smile, but it wasn’t as if he hadn’t known Eames’s unfortunate given name. Eames glanced at him, grimaced, and mumbled to Lily, who was sitting on his lap, “Hope your brother stays in there for another week. See how Mama likes that.”

~~~

When Rosie fell asleep, Eames started making dinner. Arthur realised he hadn’t really seen him cook before. He did it like he did most things, extravagant and intuitive, pouring salt and pepper into the pot without measuring it out, swiping gravy off the ladle with a finger and tasting it. He looked over at Arthur while he was doing this. Arthur heaved a sigh, looking heavenward. Eames laughed.

“You’re good with Lily,” Eames said. “She likes you.” Arthur was nodding as Lily drew on a pad, nudging her crayons away from the wood of the table. She was explaining her creations to him, gesticulating wildly.

“I like her,” Arthur said.

“She’s going to miss you,” Eames said offhandedly, ladling food into bowls. “You could visit again.”

Arthur determinedly kept his eyes on Lily’s crayons. “Wouldn’t be safe, both of us coming here more. It wouldn’t be safe for them.”

Eames considered this and visibly dismissed it. “We’re competent. We know how to cover our tracks. You know nobody knows we’re here.”

“Is it really a good idea, when we’re in this business?” Arthur asked.

“So we shouldn’t live our lives at all because of our work, darling?” Eames’s tone was light but there was an undercurrent to it that Arthur recognised from moments like How’s Cobb? Arthur still didn’t look up. He said, “I’m saying we should take precautions because of our work.”

“That seems unfair to us.” Eames sounded firm and Arthur could imagine it, he’d seen Eames go tense before, his eyes sharp and his jaw set. It no longer sounded like they were talking about visiting Lily.

“It’s better than losing people you care about.”

“Ah, Arthur,” Eames said, quietly. “So this is what it’s about.” The temperature of the room had changed. Arthur felt cold.

“Eames,” he said, a very quiet warning.

“I know she’s gone, Arthur, but we’re still here.” Eames’s voice was low and rough.

“Eames. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Mal’s gone,” Eames said, volume rising very slightly, “but I’m here Arthur, and you’re here, and we’re here. Can’t we even talk about–”

“It’s not just that,” Arthur said, looking up. Eames had come closer. The counter separated them, only the counter and nothing but the counter. “I’ll never be able to tell her about it. She was my best friend.” It felt awful saying was, and he hadn’t exactly been able to confide in wild-eyed despondent Dom Cobb, so it was the first time he had said it out loud to someone. He forced the words out anyway. “She was my best friend, and now she’s gone.”

Eames just watched him, eyes creased and all fight gone, looking almost tender. Arthur almost couldn’t stand it. “So you see,” he said, but didn’t know how to finish his sentence.

“So I see,” Eames said anyway.

In the long silence that ensued Lily, perhaps sensing that there was something wrong, started fussing. Eames came around and put bowls on the table. Arthur’s stomach rumbled; he still felt slightly sick. Eames sat beside Lily, opposite Arthur, and started feeding her, talking to her in low, soothing tones. “Sweetheart,” he was saying, “no really, it’s okay, drink this soup, I slaved over it. I learned this recipe from your grandmother, you know. I know you prefer your dad feeding you but he’ll be back soon and for now you’ve got me and my woefully inadequate soup. Sorry about that. Look, Arthur’s eating too.”

Arthur put a spoon to his mouth automatically. But the soup was good and warm and hearty, chicken broth that made him want more. After a while he took another spoonful.

“There, there,” Eames said, “Arthur’s eating too. And he likes it.”

“I like it,” Arthur admitted.

“Look, Lily-girl, your Uncle Will’s done it again,” Eames said. He was talking to Lily still, but his voice was calm and steady, his words nonsensical, glances thrown Arthur’s way as if he was trying to soothe him as well. “Really, Lily, is there anything I can’t do? I’m going to teach you all I know, too, don’t worry. Pick a lock and everything, but don’t tell your mother.”

“Pick a lock,” Lily repeated perfectly.

“Aw, Lil,” Eames said. “What did I just say?”

Arthur wished he didn’t feel better. Eames not pushing, Eames just there, Eames who had cooked him dinner. Eames who was being soothing and sweet, Eames who knew how to love a child, Eames who was being unfailingly patient with him. If he didn’t feel better, then Eames wouldn’t be able to infiltrate his defences like this.

~~~

In his hotel room Arthur called Cobb. London was eight hours ahead, so Cobb sounded chirpy when he asked, “Arthur? What’s wrong?” Voices shrieked in the background.

“Nothing. Eames is finishing up with some work. We’ll be there in about three weeks,” Arthur said.

“That’s fine,” Cobb said. “I told you it wasn’t a rush. Did you call to talk to the kids?”

Arthur hadn’t really, but he found himself saying “Yeah, yeah.” Cobb shouted into the distance, “Arthur’s on the phone!”

James got on first. “Uncle Arthur!” he said. “When are you coming back?”

“Very soon, buddy,” said Arthur. James told him about the Lego set he’d just gotten, and the new kite, and the telescope set. Privately Arthur thought Cobb was spoiling them slightly too much–Mal would never have stood for it–but he supposed as Cobb hadn’t seen them in a year, it was fine.

“It’s my turn!” Philippa was saying from some distance away.

“Bye Uncle Arthur,” James said quickly. “Come back soon.”

“Very soon,” Arthur promised again. Philippa came on. “Uncle Arthur,” she said. “I miss you.”

Arthur loved these children, not only because of Mal, but because he loved these children. He had rocked them both to sleep. James had banged his knee up for the first time and wailed “Uncle Arthur!”, high and pained. Philippa had taken her first steps toward Mal, but then she’d turned unsteadily towards him.

It had been hard for Arthur to visit them over the past year: he admitted this to himself now. Philippa had Cobb’s rare wide sunny smile but she also had Mal’s eyes, her way of tucking her hair back behind her ear. James accidentally spoke French sometimes because Mal had communicated with them almost exclusively in it. When Arthur had visited, he had had to turn away from them a lot so they wouldn’t see his face. It was easier not to visit.

“I miss you, Phil,” he found himself saying. “I’ll see you in about three weeks, I promise.”

“Dad is being weird,” she complained. “He keeps giving us stuff.”

“Shouldn’t turn your nose up at free stuff,” Arthur said.

“He got me a Barbie!” she said. “I’m seven.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Arthur assured her.

She told him about school and her friends and Marie, who dropped by at unexpected times to suspiciously check on Cobb’s parenting skills. Arthur sympathised with her over a particularly strict teacher, told her that an argument with a friend would blow over, and laughed a little over Marie, who was fond of Arthur and still texted him time to time. He said goodbye and told her he loved her. He went to sleep thinking Mal, you did something right. Mal, they’re still here.

~~~

At eight the next morning Arthur called Eames.

“Arthur?” Eames rumbled, voice sleep-rough. “Arthur,” he said, going from sleepy to worried, “are you alright?”

“People keep asking me that,” Arthur said. “Have I not been alright?”

Eames chuckled, warm, in his ear. “Not really, darling,” he said.

“Well,” Arthur said. “I was just wondering if you would like to go out today.”

“Where?” asked Eames.

Arthur had done some research. Eames probably knew this place, but Arthur wanted to take him to it. He sent Eames the location.

“Okay,” said Eames, his voice giving nothing away. “I’ll be there.”

Arthur knew Eames, with all his artist’s soul, loved poetry. Arthur knew that once in a run-through Eames had dreamt up the sea, drifting in a little boat, book in his hand while Arthur had waited out Cobb in another level. Arthur had seen the painting Eames liked in the Tate.

Arthur knew this wasn’t close, but he turned up at the canal at two. Eames was already there, inscrutable under his shades, wearing a bright pink shirt with palm trees on it, loose pants that were probably only held up with suspenders and luck. “What is this place, darling?” he asked.

“It’s a small library on a boat,” Arthur said, shrugging. “A community thing. I thought you’d like to read, maybe. Later there’ll be kids from school. But it’s quiet in the mornings and afternoons, it’s out of the way.” On the boat there was a wooden platform with sunchairs and pillows, to read. The sun streamed wispily down on them.

“Hmm,” Eames said. He ducked into the boat. Arthur waited, listening to the animated voices inside: Eames and the woman who owned the little library.

Fifteen minutes later he came out, shades off and with a slim blue book in his hand. He was grinning. “Arthur,” he said, “do you know what they have?” Arthur didn’t get to know what they had, because Eames leapt onto the platform and threw himself down onto the platform, sliding a cushion under his head. He opened the book up.

Arthur ducked inside the boat and smiled at the woman. Books littered the counter, the shelves, the carpet, her arms; books clearly well-beloved and well taken care of. He spent his time selecting something familiar, smiling at Khadijah–her tag read–when she said, nodding at his choice of book, “Classic.”

Settling down in the deck chair beside Eames and looking out at the canal, Arthur observed the trees in the park on one canal bank, and back gardens of houses on the other. His gaze drifted down. Eames was so still and heavy-lidded Arthur would have thought he was asleep, if it hadn’t been turning a page every so often.

He looked calm, peaceful. He did not look lonely. Arthur looked down at his own book.

And wishes, had he any?

Just his sigh, accented,

Had been legible to me.

And was he confident until

Ill fluttered out in everlasting well?

Out of the corner of his eye, Eames placed his slim volume of poetry down on his chest. “Do you want to hear a bit of it?” he asked.

“Sure,” Arthur said.

Eames picked it up again and began to read, voice low like a secret.

“If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy,

don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty

of lives and whole towns destroyed or about

to be. We are not wise, and not very often

kind. And much can never be redeemed.”

He did hesitate then, looking up at Arthur, something indecipherable in his eyes. Arthur kept still, head slightly turned toward him.

“Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this

is its way of fighting back, that sometimes

something happens better than all the riches

or power in the world. It could be anything,

but very likely you notice it in the instant…”

Eames took a breath and continued steadily, “In the instant

when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case.

Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid

of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.”

Eames stopped reading. A moment later, he turned the page, eyes still firmly on the book.

The sky above him was clear and he looked so safe and solid, his large hands steady, his jaw so well-cut. He looked painfully handsome, lying there like a figure in a painting, one of the classics lovingly rendered. He’d waited for Arthur and he was waiting more, patient with it and letting Arthur come to him.

“Eames,” Arthur said, rough.

“Arthur,” Eames said gently. “It’s really all right.”

Arthur was afraid. He knew he was. He wanted to be. Joy would never be a crumb for him. When he allowed himself to love Eames he would do it fully and completely. This was a scary, scary thing. The call in the middle of the night, the things the people you loved could leave behind. Arthur knew the real fact of the matter was that even so, it was too late for him.

Eames’s phone rang.

Arthur wondered why this kept happening.

“Rosie,” he said, getting to his feet. “Okay, okay, okay, calm down and give me fifteen.” To Arthur he shot a wry look, the moment between them quietly broken, and said, “This could finally be it.”

~~~

It was it. Eames called an hour later to inform Arthur these were real contractions, not just fancily named ones. Lily was louder today, sucking her thumb and saying “Ar-fur,” tottering over to be picked up, as if she was already worried that attention from grownups would now irrevocably be split between her and a new sibling.

Arthur made her dinner and let her watch another episode of Creatures of the Sea. She watched the goblin shark with a measure of fascination, Arthur narrowing his eyes at the creepy looking creature, and then Arthur put her to bed. Beside the bed sat a copy of Frog and Toad Are Friends, which Arthur picked up and read to her. Outside, the evening drew on, and Arthur’s voice grew hoarse. He wanted to finish the story anyway.

“Toad was very pleased to have it,” he concluded finally, and realised she was asleep. He smiled slightly, pulling up the blankets around her, feeling intensely fond. Switching off the lights he said, “Night, Lily.”

He was tired too, only realising it after having settled on the sofa and yawning, loud and satisfying. Between one moment and the next, he had fallen asleep.

At around six am his phone rang. “He’s here!” Eames announced. “Healthy as anything and crying like–well, he’s crying like a baby. Rosie’s good, she’s sleeping. You and Lily can come in a couple of hours. Darling, wait till you meet him. He’s perfect.”

He sounded like Cobb, calling Arthur up once, then twice a couple of years later. The pride in his voice. Mal, on the phone next, exhausted but chattering to Arthur about Phil’s little thumbs and her little toes, James’s wrinkled pink smile. Arthur hadn’t been there for either of their births, had been off working, but he’d been there for Philippa’s first steps, there when James had fallen down. His best friend was gone, but Arthur would always have that.

“I’m sure you think he is,” Arthur said. “He’s named after you, isn’t he?”

“Darling,” Eames said, sounding wildly delighted that Arthur was flirting back.

“We’ll be there in a couple of hours,” Arthur told him. He put down the phone and couldn’t stop smiling.

~~~

There were nerves in the pit of his stomach. It was like he’d made a decision, or like the decision had been made for him. Eames laying gently back, his large hands holding the little book, reading low and smooth, everything Arthur could now admit to himself he had wanted to come home to for some time now. The sun in his hair and his eyes lovely as the sea. Whatever happened, Arthur would have had this.

Lily woke fretting about Rosie, but was quickly calmed when Arthur informed her they were going to see her mother and her little brother. “Wew,” she tried out, tugging on her shoes.

“Yes, Lily, Wew,” Arthur said, bundling her safely into Rosie’s car.

They reached the hospital and Eames was waiting for them outside. His hair looked sort of greasy, sort of like he’d run his hands through it many times. He looked like he hadn’t slept. Arthur kind of wanted to kiss him, and thought perhaps he might.

He stopped short when Eames said, “My parents are here.” He looked wry. “They thought they couldn’t make it, but they got here hours early. Anyway, they just arrived. Heads up.”

That was all the warning Arthur got before the doors opened again and two people Arthur assumed were Eames’s parents came hurrying out. Robert Walliams was short and pleasant-faced, smiling, and Cora Walliams was taller, still golden-haired, assessing Arthur and Lily with a look in her eyes Arthur would almost describe as shrewd. They stopped short when they reached Eames.

“This is Arthur,” Eames said very formally, but he raised an eyebrow at Arthur like he was amused. “Arthur, this is my mum and dad.”

“Arthur,” Robert said affably. Cora said, “Thank you for taking care of Lily, Arthur.”

“It was great, she’s lovely,” Arthur said, setting Lily down so she could toddle up to her grandparents.

“You work with Arthur, son?” Robert asked, sounding very British and dad-like. He reached forward with a hand.

Arthur nodded, taking it. “On and off,” he said, feeling strangely nervous.

“Will’s has never brought a friend back before,” Cora said, sounding very like Rosie, looking at Arthur with Eames’s gimlet-eyed gaze.

“Can’t use that name anymore,” Eames said, “now that Rosie’s stolen it for baby William.”

“But you’ll always be the first William, dear,” Cora said reassuringly. Eames sighed. “Anyway, Arthur,” she said, placing her arm in his. “Where are you from?”

She kept up a steady stream of conversation as they re-entered the hospital, all the way up to Rosie’s room, whereupon she started cooing over her grandson. Lily ran to her mother. Arthur, slightly stunned, realised she had coaxed out of him how many siblings he had, his mother’s career, and how he felt about London (and probably also how he felt about Eames). He realised quite suddenly this was where Eames had begun to learn to wheedle information out of people. Exchanging a look with Eames, who looked slightly apologetic, he approached Rosie’s side.

Rosie, flushed and tired and triumphant, handed baby William over to him.

“Isn’t he perfectly darling?” she asked.

“Very,” Arthur agreed, because baby William lay sleeping and red-faced in his arms, indeed perfectly darling.

“And you’ll come back and visit him of course,” Rosie said, looking up at him.

“Of course,” he promised.

“Eames will make sure of it,” said Cora, perfectly sure herself.

“Only if Arthur wants,” Eames said patiently.

Cora smiled over at Arthur like she could see ten years into the future. “Arthur’s smart,” she said. “He knows good things are worth keeping.”

Then Charlie, Rosie’s husband, arrived in a bustle of wild hair and riotous happiness, and Lily started crying at the sight of this interloper of a brother taking up her father’s attention, and everything became very bustling and extremely chaotic.

Arthur backed away a bit, into the waiting room, to give them some space. He waited there a little while with the magazines before Eames came out.

“Sorry about my mother,” he said, joining Arthur by the water cooler.

“She’s very like you,” Arthur told him.

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Arthur,” Eames said, abruptly, turning towards him, “everyone’s here. So they don’t need me. I’ll probably stay a few more days, but we can go do the job soon.”

“The job,” Arthur repeated blankly.

Eames frowned. “The one you came all the way here for. Arthur, I know I’ve brought you around and… tried to woo you…” He stood up, restless.

“Tried to woo me,” Arthur repeated. “Woo me.”

“Woo you, court you, take you around town.” Eames tilted his head, caught Arthur’s eyes. The hospital noises around them faded into the background. Earnest, tender, Eames said, “But I know it’s been hard. I didn’t mean to pressure you, darling. I know you’ve been grieving. We can do the job. You can take all the time you need.”

“Ah,” Arthur said. They would go do the job in a few days. Then what? Would they fall back into that pattern, bickering and push-and-pull, glances at Eames’s back and a sandwich just the way he liked it on his desk, checking on whether he was alive from across the world? He tried to summon the bravery he’d felt on the way to the hospital.

“Darling, it’s okay,” Eames said uncertainly, watching him again. Lower, like a secret, he said, “I really can wait.”

Arthur knew he could wait. He had waited. He could read the truth in the questioning bow of Eames’s bottom lip: he would wait. But if you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. It flooded into Arthur's stomach, his lungs, his heart. Mal, you’re gone, but look at me, I’m still here. You’re gone and you’ll never see how happy I will be but it’s enough that I know what you’d say because I knew you so well. It’s enough that your children live and I love them. You love and you lose. You love again.

“Well I can’t,” Arthur said, so he took Eames’s lovely, surprised face into his hands, giving into his eyes, an endless sky and an unending river. He reached up to kiss him.

~~~

“I have a confession,” Arthur said, “This job… it’s a favour to Cobb.”

Eames kept his gaze on him. “Oh,” he said. “Another of Dominic Cobb’s messes.”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said.

“Are you?” Eames said consideringly. He leaned in slowly closer, murmuring it into the shell of Arthur’s ear. “How sorry? Will you make it up to me?”

Arthur leaned back. “You knew,” he said accusingly.

“I suspected, so I asked him,” Eames said, grinning. “So you’ve been manipulating me all this time. All of this has just been because Cobb owed someone and you feel you owe Cobb.”

“Not all of it,” Arthur said. “Not all of it.”

Behind Eames the sky, pinkish blues, was turning into morning. They were only a matter of hours away from LA and it felt like it, felt like hovering over wide plains and wider homes. Arthur had a hotel room booked for them. It was old in a way that suggested comfort, slightly faded carpets but wood paneling to die for.

He had a hotel room booked and James to fly a kite with, Phil to listen to intently as she grew up quicker than he entirely liked. Eames would teach her how to pick a lock. When the job was done maybe they’d go back to see Lily and Will and Rosie for a bit.

“I haven’t seen much of LA, you know, darling,” Eames said, nuzzling behind his ear. He was lying, but Arthur smiled anyway. “I could use a tour guide.”

~~~

To Know Just How He Suffered Would Be Dear, Emily Dickinson

Don’t Hesitate, Mary Oliver

Frog and Toad Are Friends, Arnold Lobel

[snowfall-fanfictions]

A Long Time Ago...

Ao3 Link FFN Link

After making a dangerous and impromptu maneuver, Luke finds himself embroiled in a conflict that ended twenty years ago, with people who were supposed to be long dead. 

Set between ANH and ESB.

Okay, time to blow the dust off of this account and start posting again. My life’s been getting a hell of a lot more hectic in the past five months, which kinda killed my drive to write. But rest assured, I’m still writing and will continue to write, it’s just going to take a little longer between chapters. Also, this is my first non-Frozen piece that I’ve uploaded to FFN and Ao3! Hope you enjoy!

Luke sat in silence as his X-wing blazed through hyperspace. He’d hoped the coordinates that the Rebel Alliance had acquired were legitimate and not some Imperial trap. For the past few months since Luke destroyed the Death Star, the Alliance had been living by the seat of its pants, jumping from system to system, desperately avoiding being captured by the Empire. It was certainly the excitement and adventure he’d been longing for since he was a young boy, longing to finally leave Tatooine to explore the wider galaxy, though he wasn’t expecting to do so under such circumstances.

The thought of Tatooine brought Luke’s memories back to that day when Ben, or Obi-wan, saved him from the Tusken Raiders. He moved his eyes from the streaking blues and whites of hyperspace to his immediate right. There, nestled between him and the cockpit, laid his lightsaber, worn and battered from the years of action it saw. Luke immediately thought back on Ben’s words to him as he placed it in his hands that day.

“I was once a Jedi Knight, same as your father… He was the best starfighter pilot in the galaxy… and he was a good friend…”

The thought of his father being a Jedi mesmerized Luke. All his life he had believed he had come from some spice trader in the Outer Rim, now he knew the truth. Well, most of the truth. Luke thought back to the daring rescue of Leia on the Death Star, how Ben sacrificed himself to Vader to let them escape. Now, in the entirety of the galaxy, there was only one man who knew his father.

And it was the man who killed him. 

Luke encountered Vader only once after destroying the Death Star, on Cymoon 1. In hindsight, Luke considered it foolish for a farm boy from Tatooine to challenge a powerful Force wielder such as Vader. The Dark Force Weilder’s words rang in his mind, “You, boy, are no Jedi…”

And he was right. As much as it stung like the twin suns, it was the truth. Now, with the only Jedi he’d known dead, all Luke could do is hope that he’d find another Jedi somewhere in the galaxy. Luke scoffed at this. He’d have a better time finding a fish in the Dune Sea than a Jedi.

As he was lost in thought, the chirps and whistles of Artoo brought him back to the present. “We’re arriving at the coordinates,” The Aurebesh on the navigation computer said, translating the astromech’s various sounds, “Pulling us out of lightspeed now.”

“Alright, thanks Artoo,” Luke replied, flipping a series of switches and buttons. In an instant, the vortex of blue before him returned to the vast blackness of space, with countless stars glistening ahead of him. Luke scanned the area as best he could from his cockpit, only to be met with the vast infinity of space on all sides.

“Something’s wrong,” Luke said, “You sure these are the right coordinates?” Artoo whistled and chirped as the navigational computer quickly translated for him, “Positive. Looks like there’s nothing here, unless the Alliance was looking for a nice chunk of dead space.”

Luke let out a distressed groan allowing his head to slump back, “Well, beats running into a Star Destroyer, right?”

Before Artoo could reply, the X-wing jolted with tremendous force. Luke frantically scanned around as far as his cockpit allowed in an attempt to see what caused his ship to buck like that. Maybe this was a trap after all and the Imperials had finally caught up to them. The fact that nothing was in his immediate view did nothing to ease his panic. That’s when he saw it: space itself distorting, the stars disappearing into an inky nothingness just barely in eyesight of his cockpit.

“Kriff!” Luke barked, gripping the throttle with haste. With as much strength as he could muster, he thrusted the stick, causing the engines to roar. The X-wing groaned and cracked under the pressure of the black hole as Artoo let out a screech. Slowly, the ship was pulled backwards, chunks of metal could be heard being torn off. Luke’s heart raced as sweat formed underneath his helmet. “Artoo! Get ready to jump to lightspeed!” he shouted, frantically flipping switches and mashing buttons.

“Not advised,” the navigational computer translated, “could lead to serious issues.”

“We don’t have an option, Artoo! Get us out of here, now!” “To where?”

“Anywhere!”

Artoo said nothing more as he quickly calculated their jump to lightspeed. All the while, Luke multitasked between keeping the ship out of the hole as long as possible and locking the s-foils, both in preparation for the jump and to prevent the loss of a wing. After what felt like several eternities, Artoo let out a whistle of cautious triumph, announcing that they were ready for the jump. With no hesitation, Luke gave the throttle one last push as the familiar blue of hyperspace filled his vision before he slumped back into his seat. His heart raced like a skittish womp rat as he sighed in relief. “Th-thanks, Artoo,” he gasped.

After a long winded series of chirps and whistles, the navigational computer read, “We’re lucky to have survived that, you know…” “Yeah, I know. Where are we headed, anyway?”

“Chandar’s Folly. Just picked a random planet from my memory banks.”

Artoo flashed a picture of a brownish green planet on the navigation computer. It appeared to be uninhabited, yet should be in the range of the Alliance fleet. Luke scanned over the information thoroughly. “How long till we get there?” he asked.

“Now,” the computer screen read.

Luke slowly brought the ship out of hyperspace as he was met by a grey overcast. It was unorthodox to land so close to the planet’s atmosphere, but he couldn’t risk being out in open space while the Empire was still searching for him. Mountains rose high above the planet’s surface, with small clusters of trees dotting the landscape. There didn’t appear to be any signs of sentient life, no cities or encampments, which made this a perfect place to hide until the Alliance came.

As Luke scanned for a perfect place to land, a warning flashed on his short range scanner. Before he had time to process it, a loud explosion shook his X-wing. Luke could see his engines smoking as he quickly began losing altitude. Did the Empire find out where he was going? Bounty hunters? It didn’t matter much at the moment. Luke had to focus on not crashing into a mountain side.

He gripped the throttle as he jerked the snub fighter left and right, avoiding the large mountains while still finding a place to land. Eventually, Luke noticed a small valley, long enough to make an emergency landing. With careful positioning, he managed to angle his fighter into the valley. Luke didn’t even have time to activate his landing gears before the nose of his X-wing buried itself into the ground, creating a large streak of churned soil.

Luke groaned as he unstrapped himself from his seat. His arms felt like jelly and every muscle in his back screamed in pain. As he pushed the cockpit open, his nostrils were immediately filled with the smell of sulfur and fresh dirt as his eyes readjusted to the planet’s sun. He appeared to be in some sort of valley, with mountains towering over him on either side. Two sparsely clustered groups of fungus like trees lined the massive skid made by his X-wing.

“You okay, Artoo?” Luke asked, scanning the horizon. Artoo let out a series of beeps and whistles as he struggled to get out of his socket. Luke climbed over and, with a little help from Artoo, lifted the astromech out and onto the ground. Artoo let out a happy chirp as he rocked from side to side, causing the sides of Luke’s mouth to lift up. The young pilot scanned the horizon, listening for any local wildlife, only to be met by an eerie silence.

“So, this is Chandar’s Folly?” Luke asked Artoo. The droid beeped and chirped in confirmation. “Well, you weren’t kidding about it being abandoned. C’mon, let’s see if we can fix the X-wi-”

Luke… a faint voice called out, causing Luke to jump. He instantly recognized the voice.

“Ben?” he responded almost hopefully.

You are not where you’re supposed to be, Luke. There is a great disturbance in the Force… Ben’s voice became fainter with each passing word

“What do you mean?”

Be careful around those you meet, that is all I can say… Ben’s voice trailed off into silence.

What did he mean by that? Luke thought.

A low thumping sound coming from the edge of the valley interrupted Luke’s thought. Artoo let out a concerned moan as he whirled behind the X-wing. Luke jumped into the cockpit, grabbing his lightsaber before joining Artoo. So much for this place being abandoned. The thumping grew louder, becoming clearer and more intense. Stormtroopers, without a doubt. Luke gripped his lightsaber tighter as the thumping stopped. A few seconds passed, yet they felt like an eternity. One of the soldiers stepped forward, which caused some confusion to Luke. The footsteps sounded… mechanical, almost like it was a droid.

“Well, this looks like the crash site,” one of the troops said. The voice was robotic, sounding almost timid and nasally. The familiar sound of a comm unit powering on filled Luke’s ears.

“Corporal, status report,” the voice on the other end ordered. Even through the static of the comms, the voice on the other end sounded monotone, revealing no emotion.

“We’ve managed to find the ship, commander. It’s nothing like we’ve seen before.”

“Is it Republic made?”

“Uhhhhh, looks like it.”

“And what of the pilot?”

“Uhhhhhh… nowhere to be seen.”

“Find the pilot and either secure or eliminate them. We have begun our offensive on the Republic’s defenses, and I cannot have a random variable jeopardize my strategy.”

“Roger roger.” The soldier shut off the comms unit. “You heard the commander, find the pilot, stat!”

Luke’s heart pounded in his chest. He slowly crept his head around the wreckage like a timid Loth-cat. As the soldiers came into view, his eyes widened. Eleven tan battle droids stood rigid, with one standing in front of them with yellow markings on its head and torso. Luke couldn’t understand the sight before him. Battle droids hadn’t been used in combat since the early days of the Empire, at least that’s what Uncle Owen used to say. Did the Empire reactivate the droids? Luke lingered on the droids, trying to piece together what was going on. Then, one of the droids looked him square in the eyes, causing it to jump.

“Look!” the droid shouted, pointing at Luke, “There’s the pilot!”

The droids snapped their heads at the location their comrade pointed to. Luke shrank back, gripping his lightsaber tightly. At this point, his heart threatened to burst out of his chest.

“You are under arrest in the name of the Seperatist Alliance,” the commander announced, at least that’s what Luke assumed, “Step out from behind the wreckage with your hands up.”

Artoo let out a worried whimper. Luke’s mind raced with questions. This had to be one of the seperatist holdouts the Empire dealt with in the early years, during the Reconquest of the Rim. Maybe this was all that was left of the holdout. If so, he could probably take them. Even then, Luke still practiced a bit of caution. He fastened the lightsaber to his side and slowly made his way out to face the droids with raised hands. All eleven of them had their blasters at the ready, tracking Luke’s every move.

“I don’t want any trouble,” Luke announced, “I’m just like you, hiding from the Empire. We don’t have to-”

“Empire?” one of the droids interjected, “What’s an Empire?”

“Wait a minute, this isn’t a clone,” another droid commented, stepping forward. A clone? Luke thought. Clones haven’t been seen since the days of the Clone Wars. Perhaps these droids never had their memory wiped, so they still think the Clone Wars are still raging.

“You’re coming with u-” the commander looked down at the lightsaber resting beside Luke’s hip. “HE’S A JEDI!”

The droids stepped back in shock as the commander snatched the lightsaber from Luke, inspecting it thoroughly.

“We found a jedi? And we’re still operational?” one of them asked.

“That’s impossible!” Another said, “He hasn’t done those weird hand motions yet!”

“Have you tried to fight a Jedi? The only one who has one that isn’t a Jedi is the General!”

“I sense promotions!” the commander waved the lightsaber in the air triumphantly.

All the droids cheered at the commander’s announcement. Just then, the commander began levitating in the air. The other droids stared in amazement, only to have their awe cut short by the sound of blasters. One by one, each droid received an azure bolt to the head, collapsing to the floor. The commanding droid yelled in horror as an invisible force crushed it like a canister in the vacuum of space before falling to the ground with a loud thud. Luke’s lightsaber tumbled out of the droid’s hand directly in front of him. He stared in amazement at the heaps of scrap before him, all sputtering sparks while twitching faintly, before scanning the immediate area for whoever saved him. Artoo slowly crept out from behind the wreckage with a low whistle.

“That… wasn’t you, right, Artoo?” Luke asked half-jokingly, lowering his now tired arms.. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted faint rustling from the clusters of trees. Must be the ones who did all this Luke thought as he carefully stepped over the metallic corpses. He fastened his lightsaber back onto his side before waving in the direction of the trees. “Thanks, whoever you are,” Luke shouted, “Guess this planet isn’t as abandoned as I thought it… was?”

Luke’s approach slowed to a halt as a figure emerged from the tree line. His apparent savior wore bone white armor, accented by black around the joints. The face was obscured by a helmet, and in their hands rested a small black rifle. Artoo screeched as Luke’s heart skipped a beat. Without hesitation, Luke tore the lightsaber off his side and immediately ignited it. The blue blade jettisoned out of the hilt with a screech as Luke pointed the tip towards the trooper.

“I thought the Empire didn’t operate on Chandar’s Folly,” Luke said, “What are you doing on this planet?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the trooper said, raising his hands carefully over his head, “You’re a Jedi, right? Part of this military campaign?” Luke eased a bit of tension in his body.

“Military campaign?”

Just then, another trooper, similarly outfitted, made his way out of the thick cluster. Then another. And another. In total, about ten stormtroopers stood before him, all with weapons pointed at Luke. Artoo began panicking beside Luke as another trooper came out of the brush. His armor was similar to those around him, but instead of bone white, it was accented with dark blues and sported a worn gray kama wrapped around his waist. Luke deduced that it was some kind of elite trooper the Empire was keeping a secret. If he got out of this alive, that would be invaluable information to relay to the alliance.

“Well,” the blue trooper said, “no wonder the clankers were so eager to find this wreck.” Luke cocked his head as he raised an eyebrow. The trooper’s voice was identical to the first soldier who emerged out of the trees. Luke swung the lightsaber towards the elite soldier.

“Who are you?” he demanded. Luke was taken aback when the trooper stood at attention and saluted him.

“Captain Rex, designation CT-7567 of the 501st Legion, sir.” he announced. Clones! Luke thought. There were a few clones in the rebellion, but they were all incredibly old and rarely if ever took active combat roles because of it. The clone’s name rang a bell, almost as if Luke had heard that name before.

“I thought the Empire discontinued the use of clones,” Luke said, “Or are you with the Rebellion?”

The trooper took off his helmet, revealing a man with light brown skin and eyes and blond hair cut so close it appeared as part of his skin. “Empire? Rebellion?” Rex asked, “Sounds like that crash might’ve scrambled your brains.”

“Hey!” Luke blurted out as Artoo whirled behind him. Before Luke could chastise his astromech, another figure stepped out of the farthest tree cluster. Unlike the clones, this man was adorned in blue and maroon robes, with a light gray armor piece around his neck. A faint scar draped itself over his right eye and, on his side, rested a lightsaber, almost similar to the one Luke held in his hand.

“Well, this is… unusual,” the man said, hands clasped behind his back. Luke disabled his lightsaber and approached the man.

“Thanks for the save,” Luke sighed, “Never thought I’d see battle droids in action.” 

The man cocked an eyebrow. “Are you part of the Agricultural Corps?”

Luke looked at the man as if his head was floating off his shoulders. “The what?”

“I assume you’re a Jedi with that lightsaber.”

Luke stared down at his lightsaber before letting out a sigh. “I mean, I thought I was a Jedi…”

“I sense some power inside you… it’s low, but it’s there. When did you discover this power?”

“A few months ago…”

The man’s face reeled in shock. “You have to be at least as old as me!”

“Y-yeah…”

The man rubbed his chin. “Perhaps Master Yoda and the council would know more about this…”

“The council?”

“The Jedi Council… you’ve had to have heard of them, right?”

Luke opened his mouth to speak, but then thought of Ben’s words crept into his brain. Maybe this was what he was talking about.

“Yeah,” Luke lied, “I-I’ve heard of them.”

“Good.” the man extended one of his hands, “Why don’t you come with us? Our forward camp isn’t too far from here.”

Luke clasped his hand and shook it firmly. “Well, we don’t have much of a choice. Name’s Luke.”

“Anakin,” the man replied, “Anakin Skywalker.”

Luke’s eyes went wide as his body stiffened. His mind raced, connecting all the information he had. Jedi Council, Anakin Skywalker, clones and droids… did we…?

“C’mon, Obi-wan will want to talk to you as well,” Anakin turned and made his way out of the valley as the clones followed suit. Luke and Artoo exchanged concerned looks, as if they both came to the same conclusions. 

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Artoo…” Luke said as he followed his father out of the valley.

XXXXXX

The bridge of the Executor was draped in the light blue of hyperspace. The sounds of computers and low murmur of the crew were completely drowned out by the deep and chilling breathing of Darth Vader. The Dark Lord stood silently as he peered out of the Super Star Destroyer’s viewports. Probe droids mentioned a lone X-wing that exited hyperspace from these coordinates. The markings the ship was described with matched up with the one that destroyed the Death Star. The one piloted by Luke Skywalker.

Vader’s own son.

Upon discovering that Padmè had given birth before she died, rage consumed Vader’s every being. Not only had the Emperor attempted to replace him with subpar weaklings, he lied about the death of his child. The Emperor needed to be eliminated, that much was certain. And Luke was the key to his downfall. Once Luke was in his grasp, they would rule the galaxy as father and son.

“Lord Vader,” Admiral Ozzel announced, strolling up to the towering cyborg, “We’ll be exiting hyperspace shortly, but our scanners have picked up something… unusual…”

Vader turned to the admiral, who shrank back in response. “Does it pose immediate threat to the ship, admiral?” Vader interrogated.

“Well, we are unsure, m’lord, but I felt it wise to inform y-”

“If it poses no threat, then we shall proceed as planned. I will not allow this… Jedi, to slip through our hands once again.”

“Yes, Lord Vader…”

As the Executor left hyperspace, Vader was met by a mixture of confusion and shock. Instead of the vast expanse of space, the ship was met with a series of jagged red energy bolts cutting through the stars. Vader felt the Force shaking and bending, as if it were a tortured animal. The bridge was filled with shocked gasps and hushed murmurs from petty officers and stormtroopers. Admiral Ozzel stood with his mouth agape, trying to make sense of what he was looking at.

“What are your orders, sir?” he said after a moment.

“Prepare my ship at once,” Vader decreed, turning to leave the bridge, “And ready a detachment of fighters. I shall investigate this myself.” Vader didn’t stop to hear Ozzel’s reply as the massive doors sealed shut behind him.

XXXXXXX

From the cockpit of Vader’s TIE Advanced, the damage appeared to be much worse. It appeared as if space were a large pane of shattered glass, with pure nothingness hiding behind it. Only a fool would dare venture out here alone. Three TIEs split off from Vader as he scoured for the source of this damage. As they dispersed, a streak of red energy jutted out in front of them. Two managed to alter their course with a deafening roar, but one flew directly through it, incinerating it completely. Fool, Vader thought, These are supposed to be the Empire’s greatest pilots?

Vader’s thoughts were disturbed by the fervent beeping of his comm unit. Upon activation, he was greeted by Ozzel, hands clasped behind his back.

“M’lord,” Ozzel began, “It appears we’re the only ones in this sector, perhaps we should-”

“No,” Vader abruptly interrupted, “Skywalker is here, he must be. Send another detachment of fighters. I want every inch of this sector swept.”

“As you w-”

Before Ozzel could finish his thought, the comm unit abruptly shut off as Vader’s ship rocked violently. The cyborg attempted to restabilize his ship, but only seemed to jostle it even further. Out of the corners of the cockpit, Vader saw the inky nothingness creep into view.

“Admiral!” Vader said, activating the comms link, “Activate the tractor beam, and target myself.” the Sith lord was met with static. “Admiral, respond!” Again, static. Seeing no other option, Vader began calculating a desperate jump to hyperspace. As soon as coordinates were set, he launched himself out of the nothingness and into hyperspace. The tension receded from his body as he attempted to contact the Executor once again.

“Admiral Ozzel!” Vader said, anger rising in his voice, “Do I need to remind you of the Emperor’s decree? I am not to be ignored!” Vader was once again met with static and no admiral. He slammed his metallic fist onto the unit, causing a small dent. He would deal with Ozzel in the future. For now, Vader needed to refocus on getting back to the fleet and refocus his efforts on finding Skywalker.

Vader quickly disabled his hyperdrive as he took in his surroundings. While he was still in dead space, the damage he witnessed was completely absent. While it appeared the damage to space itself was contained, Vader couldn’t help but feel a disturbance in the Force, as if catastrophe struck on a galactic scale. The Sith lord pushed this thought to the side for the time being. His priority was to return to the Executor. Vader activated his sensor array, broadcasting his location to every sector in range.

“This is a distress call from Lord Vader,” he decreed, “All Imperial naval units converge on my position.”

Just as he finished his message, Vader’s TIE shook abruptly once again. Again?! He thought as he was thrown around in his own cockpit. Perhaps it was a rebel ship attacking him. Vader activated his scanner, and his suspicions were confirmed almost immediately. A large frigate had entered the sector not too long after he arrived, with armaments similar to those used by rebels. If they wished for a fight, then so be it, he thought. Vader maneuvered his ship into attack mode, but hesitated once his target came into view. Instead of a Mon Calamari cruiser, he was met by the long and thin outline of a Munificent-Class frigate. He hadn’t seen one of them since the Clone Wars, and no separatist holdout could house one of them discreetly.

Vader’s comm unit lit up with hailing frequencies, no doubt from the frigate. Upon answering the call, he was met by a Neimoidian, his bony fingers steepling as he glared.

“This is General Uurd Mak of the Confederacy of Independent Systems!” he announced, “You are in a military zone, leave now or be destroyed!”

“The Confederacy has been disbanded for nearly twenty years,” Vader replied, “You are in direct violation of Imperial law. It would be wise to surrender now, or the consequences will be dire.” “I assure you, the Sepratist Alliance is active and strong. Allow me to demonstrate…”

Vader felt his TIE jolt as he was dragged towards the frigate. No matter what he did, he couldn’t stop from approaching the ship. Rage began boiling within the Sith lord. First Ozzel refused to acknowledge him, now he had this worm disrespecting him. “If it is a fight you wish for,” Vader said, “Then you shall get one.” And with that, Vader cut the communication just as he was pulled into the frigate’s hangar.

Out of his viewing port, Vader saw hundreds of battle droids, with blasters pointing at him. Vulture droids were perched throughout the hangar, with various tubes and supplies strewn about. Once his TIE landed, a commander droid stepped forward and knocked on the glass.

“Alright,” it said, “Come out with your hands up and you won’t be shot!”

With the press of a button, the top of the TIE opened with a hiss, followed by an eruption of steam. Vader then leaped out of the opening, igniting his lightsaber and cutting down the commander with the crimson blade.

“JEDI! OPEN FIRE!” one of the droids shouted. Every droid around Vader unleashed a torrent of blaster fire, which the sith managed to either deflect or dodge. Vader managed to cut down a few more before the remaining droids ran, leaving him alone with the sound of his lightsaber humming. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but what Vader did know was that no one would be leaving this ship alive.

XXXXXX

The Millennium Falcon dropped out of hyperspace with immense speed. Han and Chewbacca scanned the vastness of space before them in horror. Blood red cracks streaked across the expanse like magma flowing from a volcano. Chewie let out a worried roar, not tearing his eyes from the scene.

“Yeah, I hear ya, pal,” Han said worryingly, “Let’s hope Luke didn’t get too close to those things…” The smuggler and Luke grew close over the past few months, whether it be from sharing their experiences with flying to taking the Empire head on. To Han, Luke was the brother he never had. Well, the second brother, behind Chewie of course, but still like family nonetheless. The two pilots flew cautiously around the damage and chaos, trying to figure out the point of origin. As they were scanning the expanse, C-3PO trotted into the cabin.

“By the Maker!” Threepio blurted, causing Han to jump slightly, “The damage is much worse than Alliance intel relayed!”

“Thanks for the insight, goldie,” Han said sarcastically, “now unless you can tell me how space itself can bleed, I need you to make yourself useful and get Leia up here.”

“At once, Captain Solo, but Alliance Command will be requesting an update on the situation.” “Tell them things have gone to hell, but no Imperials so far. Now get Leia.”

“Yes, sir.” Threepeeo waddled back out of the cabin, leaving Han and Chewie to themselves once more. Chewie let out a concerning wimper directed to Han.

“What?” The smuggler asked, “I know that droid’s a pain to you as much as he is to me.”

Chewie let out a quick bark in defiance. 

“I know he means a lot to Leia and that clone, but they could’ve at least changed his vocal patterns. And who programs a droid to feel fear?”

The wookie simply roared, seemingly scolding his friend.

“You’re right, we need to get back to this. If the Empire has a new weapon that can do this, we’re all in danger…”

XXXXXX

“Thank you for joining us, Commander Rex,” Leia said, “I know it must be difficult with your age to come on these missions.” The two of them sat around the holochess table, which was in desperate need of repair. Upon the table sat Rex’s ARC helmet, greyed by years of use with tally marks on the temples. The clone simply laughed as he calibrated his blaster pistols.

“Never liked sitting around,” Rex chortled, “We clones were bred to fight.”

“I remember the stories my father used to tell me about the wars. Is it true you were under the command of Luke’s father?”

“Sure was. Few Jedi cared about their clones as much as General Skywalker. He and I led the 501st through thick and thin, come hell or high water.” The smile on Rex’s face dissipated as he stared at his helmet. “I just can’t believe he’s really… dead, y’know.”

Leia placed a hand on Rex’s shoulder, “I’m sorry. With all the loss you’ve probably seen, that must’ve been hard.”

“Indeed, but their deaths are what keep me fighting. So that his, and the sacrifices my brothers made, aren’t in vain.”

Leia thanked the aging clone once more before excusing herself to find Threepio. She held a deep respect for the old clone, even before General Syndulla’s recommendation for this mission. Leia remembered hearing that he was one of the five clones that held off an entire invasion force on the moon of Rishi. If the Alliance could get a hold of the cloning technology used for him, the war would be a hell of a lot shorter. Though with these rumors of a new Imperial superweapon, one that rivaled the destructive power of the Death Star, it would take much more than just manpower to deal with the Empire.

Leia managed to find Threepio coming from the cockpit, muttering to himself as usual. “Everything alright, Threepio?” Leia asked.

“Oh, Princess Leia!” Threepio responded, attempting to mask the annoyance in his vocal programming, “Captain Solo is requesting your presence, albeit rather rudely.”

“Has he found the weapon?” “No, but… it’s hard to explain, but it’s almost as if space has been… shattered. Like glass.”

“Bah!” Rex said peering out of the access door, “Space warps, not breaks. With as long as you’ve been around, droid, I’d thought you’d know that too.”

“My visual receptors don’t lie. Also, how would you know how long I’ve been around?”

Rex turned his attention to Leia. “Guess they weren’t kidding about a memory wipe…”

The ship suddenly jolted, nearly knocking everyone onto the floor. As the three of them scrambled back onto their feet, an alarm began blaring throughout the ship. Leia dashed past Threepio towards the cockpit, followed by Rex, then the protocol droid. Han and Chewie were frantically flipping switches and pressing buttons, their eyes wildly darting all across the dashboard.

“What the hell’s going on?” Leia demanded before turning her gaze out to the expanse of space. It was just as Threepio described; space itself seemed to have shattered like glass.

“Looks like we’re caught in a black hole,” Han said, trying to keep his voice calm, “That might be what caused all this.” “How?” Rex interrogated, “Black holes warp space, not shatter it!” “Well, there’s no superweapon out here, so if you’ve got a better explanation, old man, I’d love to hear them!”

The ship bucked again, forcing Leia and Rex to grip the passenger seats to remain standing. Threepio was not so lucky, falling to the ground with a yelp.

“I hope you have a solution to this, otherwise we’re done for!” Leia yelled over the blaring alarm.

“Don’t get your shorts in a knot, Princess! I always have a solution. Chewie, prepare to jump to lightspeed.”

“What?!” Rex and Leia said in unison.

“You two got any better ideas?”

“But sir!” Threepio said as he stood back up, “There is a 99.9 percent chance that the ship will be torn asunder if we attempt a jump to hyperspace!” “Never tell me the odds. Chewie, you got the coordinates?” The wookie let out a bellowing roar. “Then punch it!”

In an instant, the stars became streaks of light as the Falcon launched forward into the emptiness of space.

[bimboamyrose]

Unfamiliar - A Metamy Fanfic (Ch. 5)

Ch. 5: The Right Thing

First two chapters

Previous (Ch. 4)

The afternoon was better described as crisp than frosty. Signs that spring was approaching appeared in the cloudless sky and dissolving frost. The sun sat high up in the sky, indicative of the slowly lengthening days. Amy would have insisted on taking the scenic route to reach Tails’ lab, but feared the tape holding Metal Sonic’s foot in place wouldn’t hold up in the sloshing snow. Flying up the hill appeared to be the safest option.

The pair repeated yesterday’s maneuver of having Amy attach herself to Metal’s back. This time, however, there was the added challenge of navigating as the cold wind stung her eyes. The windchill they experienced in the significantly colder air blew through the lighter coat she’d chosen to wear due to the lack of frost. Amy began shivering.

Less than a minute later, she could begin to feel the warmth building up in Metal’s body again. He also slowed down to walking speed in the air to allow her to open her eyes. Metal’s back felt toasty against her and she could feel her tense shoulders relax a bit. She sighed in relief. “Hey, are you doing this on purpose?” she wondered aloud.

Metal sort of shrugged his shoulder, not wanting to disturb Amy’s grip around his neck. It did take a bit more energy and the warming feature was probably reserved for times much more frigid than this, but the trip was short. After all, she had given him some comfort, so why not return the favor?

“Well, thanks.” Amy leaned her head over his back, resting a cheek on his satin-clad shoulder to get a better look at the landscape. They were far higher off the ground that was necessary by the time she noticed. “Head down there,” she pointed. They descended much slower this time, and by the time they landed near the entrance, it had taken longer than if they’d just walked. The view as they approached, however, trumped that of even her regular scenic route. 

Amy and Metal walked toward the entrance, but the door swung wide open before she could get near the doorbell. “What are you doing?” Tails peeked his head out the door to take a nervous look around. “Get inside.”

Amy scoffed. “Nice to see you, too.”

The door slammed shut behind them automatically. Tails was already most of the way down the hall when he took a sharp turn into a door to the left. 

What’s eating him? Amy followed the boy with Metal Sonic limping close behind. They turned into his sprawling laboratory, where Tails stood behind a series of screens. “Tails? You alright?”

He looked up from his command center nervously. “Did anyone see you?”

“How should I know?”

“Amy, if anyone finds out-”

“What, Tails? They’re gonna reprimand me?” she rolled her eyes.

Tails grumbled. He didn’t want to say too much in front of Metal Sonic for fear of jogging its memory. But what if Eggman had spotted them? Surely he must be looking for his weapon by now. And if anyone else on the team had seen the two of them flying around it could have been mistaken for another hostage situation. Tails pointed directly at the robot. “Go sit on that table over there.”

Amy followed Metal as he sat on the cold bench. It looked like an operating table, surrounded by a tangled web of wires and machinery. She was nervous for him. Amy trusted that Tails would know what to do but worried that his fear of Metal Sonic would cloud his intentions. 

Tails mashed the keys on his computer aggressively with his one functioning hand. “Amy, I need you to come over here.”

She looked back at her steely companion. Amy flashed a smile and placed her hand briefly on Metal’s shoulder. “You’ll be fixed in no time,” she reassured before joining Tails behind his small command center.

A few keystrokes later, a sheer green forcefield appeared like a bubble around the table, encapsulating Metal Sonic and several of the nearby machines inside. He looked up at the glowing shield curiously. 

Amy gasped at the sudden appearance of it. “Tails, what’s the shield for?”

“So he can't hear us, or get out.” He turned to his teammate with a huff. “Have you thought this plan out at all? How do you think Sonic is gonna react when he finds out?”

Amy shuffled on her feet nervously. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But look, Cream and I spent some time with him-”

“You got Cream involved?” Tails was raising his voice indignantly.

“She came over and saw him, okay! And it went fine. It’s like they became friends.”

Tails scoffed harshly. “Look, Amy, I know you always want to see the good in everything, but this is dangerous. Even if we get that thing on our side, who’s to say Eggman won’t just capture Metal Sonic and reprogram it again? He’s done it before.”

“We’ll just have to leave a lasting impression, then,” Amy responded matter-of-factly. 

“You can’t be serious…”

“I am! Look, we don’t have to reprogram Metal, he can learn this stuff on his own.” Amy reasoned. “He has real emotions and stuff. I don’t know how to explain it.” She looked through the glowing bubble and met eyes with Metal, who was looking to her inquisitively. He held his severed arm out, turning his head. Amy waved back with a kind smile. “He just needs some friends. I think he’s capable of being good.”

Tails watched their interaction with fascination. It was almost upsetting to see Metal Sonic sitting innocently in his lab after all the strife and injury his team had suffered at the robot’s hands over the years. He looked down at his own broken wrist, ears drooping. “So your plan is to just become roommates with that thing? After everything that’s happened?”

“Look, he needs to decide for himself what he wants. You have to restore his memory.”

Tails glared back at her. “You want him to remember? 

“It doesn’t count if we force him.” Amy gazed at Tails wet eyes, a soft pout spread across her lips. “Wouldn’t you want a second chance?” 

Tails could feel his face becoming hot. “And what if I refuse?”

“Tails, you’re the smartest person I know. You could deactivate Metal if he became a real threat.” Amy’s sweet eyes narrowed.  “But if you don’t help me with this, I’ll find someone who will.”

She could be convincing when she wanted to be- or maybe “manipulative” was the better word. Tails more than understood that Amy was capable of putting herself in harm’s way if she thought it was the right thing to do. “I don’t know how long it’ll take to fix. It could be weeks.” He hesitantly clicked some keys and the forcefield fell away. “I’ll do it, but we have to tell the team. We couldn’t keep it a secret, anyway.”

Amy nodded in agreement. “Thank you. It’ll work, you’ll see.” She turned and jogged back over to Metal, who was irately chiming something at her. “Sorry! Just had to take care of some business first. Relax, we’re gonna fix you now.”

Tails couldn’t believe how nonchalant Amy was being about everything. Metal Sonic had probably caused her the most tauma out of the team, having kidnapped her at a young age. But for however fierce she could be, Amy was pure and forgiving in nature. Tails always thought that was admirable- if a little stupid. He took a deep breath in preparation for what he was about to embark on. 

The boy awkwardly approached Metal Sonic, walking past him to pull some wires from a nearby machine. “So, I guess we’re gonna fix you and try to get your memory back.” He remembered what Amy said about being friendly and struggled to say something polite. “Nice-uh- jacket? Wait, isn’t that Amy’s?”

“It’s Metal’s now. He looks better in it,” she smiled.

“Right. ‘He.’” Tails turned to address Metal Sonic directly. “I’m gonna fix you, but I also want to copy your memory so I can figure out how to restore it. We have to turn you off for that. Understand?”

Metal Sonic looked to Amy for guidance. She seemed to know the boy well, but Metal was unsure that Tails was comfortable repairing him. The boy seemed hesitant. “Don’t worry, you’re in good hands. If anyone can fix you, it’s Tails,” she reassured.  Metal turned back to Tails and nodded.

“Okay. You should lie back, and you can put the arm down for now.”

Metal Sonic complied. Tails stuck several electromagnetic wires on his head and core. He could see Amy standing back, flashing him a nervous smile. He listened as Tails brought out the same remote he was holding when they met the day before. Metal wasn’t able to catch what he was saying before the lights in his eyes scrambled and went out.

“Metal? Are you awake?” Amy shook his shoulder but the robot didn’t respond. It was eerie seeing him so lifeless now.

“He’s off. Don’t worry about us, I’m going to run some scans and see what I can learn. It’ll take a few hours, so I’ll call you when I’m ready.”

Amy nodded confidently. She knew Tails would do the right thing - and hoped that in the end, Metal Sonic would, too. 

-------

Amy took her time for the rest of the afternoon to run errands. She did some shopping in town and picked up groceries, returning home past sunset. She waited a few more hours for a call back from Tails but was beginning to think he’d keep making repairs overnight. It was nearly 11 PM before she received the call and had to brave the frigid night.

Tails didn’t answer the door personally- it opened on its own by his command. Amy hurried inside to warm up. She found her teammate at the workstation in his lab, magnifying goggles over his eyes. Metal was in the same spot- still off. 

“Hey Amy.” Tails didn’t look up from whatever he was fiddling with.

“Hey. How did it go?” Amy approached the workbench, peering over Tail’s shoulder. He was screwing one of the panels of Metal’s hand shut with the help of a vice to hold it in place. 

“Well, I was able to take a look around his head, but…” Tails flipped up his goggles and met Amy’s eyes. “There’s this sort of firewall there blocking access to a lot of whatever’s in there. And apparently there’s a failsafe, like a protocol in case Metal Sonic lost his memory, but it didn’t work.” He shrugged and scrunched his eyebrows at the mystery.

“Really? What was the protocol?”

“Seems like it was meant to help him navigate back to Eggman’s base for repairs, but his GPS isn’t working either. And that’s another thing- if I fix it, he’ll be trackable.”

“So he’s not right now?”

“Nope. And I don’t think we don’t want him to be.” Tails swiveled his chair to face the robot behind them. “But that doesn’t mean Eggman won’t still come looking…”

Amy scoffed. “He’s left him to rot for months before. He won’t look unless he’s planning something.”

“Let’s he doesn't,” Tails sighed, picking the mechanical hand from the vice and walking it over to Metal’s body. “I’m gonna keep trying to access the memory. It’ll take a while. Oh, and I removed all his weapons for now- just in case.” He fastened Metal’s hand to his forearm, screwing it in place.

“You shouldn’t mess with him like that,” Amy frowned.

“Don’t start- it’s for our own good. Especially if you plan on keeping him around your place.”

“I guess…” Amy was avoiding having to think about it. She wanted to help Metal, but having a long-term house guest in her little home wasn’t exactly in her plans. She struggled to think of another solution. 

Tails finished his work. “Well, what do you think? Not too shabby for one hand, especially considering the number we did on him,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, we really hit him hard, huh? He looks great, though.” Tails had removed the jacket Metal was wearing in order to work on his whole body. The jagged edges around where his left arm had torn off were now smooth and polished. His foot was reattached properly at the ankle. There remained scratches in his paint at the head and other areas he’d sustained damage, but all of his missing pieces were reattached neatly.

“You don’t know the half of it! I need to make more internal repairs. And what was with all the duct tape?”

Amy blushed. “I thought it would help,” she mumbled.

“Well, taking it off was a nightmare. Just leave the repairs to me, okay?”

Amy rolled her eyes. “Fine.” 

“Anyway, before I wake him, I think we should agree on something…” Tails rubbed his arm awkwardly.

“What is it?”

“Are you gonna tell him anything about his past? Do you think it’s a good idea?”

Amy peered down at Metal’s body. It didn’t feel right to keep things from him, but if they told him too much he might decide to look for his master. She didn’t want to lose the opportunity, but felt conflicted about hiding the truth. “I’m not gonna tell him, but I can’t lie if he asks,” she decided.

Tails nodded. “Fair, enough, I guess.” He knew he wouldn’t be able to convince her otherwise. “Let’s get it going then.” 

Tails fetched the remote from his desk and stood by Amy. He pressed three buttons in sequence with his thumb. A loud mechanical buzzing filled the otherwise quiet lab before dying down to a whisper. After a few seconds, Metal Sonic’s eyes illuminated. He peered around, spotting Tails first, then shifting his gaze to Amy. His eyes lingered on her.

“Hey, Metal. How do you feel?” Her warm smile and kind eyes shone. Metal was pleasantly surprised to see her looking joyful.

“Can you get up?” he heard Tails ask. Metal Sonic sat up, shifting his legs over the side of the bench with his back to them. Tails circled around to face him, pulling a stand toward him with an attached clipboard. “Great! Try that arm out.” Metal looked to his left. His arm appeared just the same as his right one- no barbed edges or exposed circuitry. He rotated his shoulder backwards, meeting no resistance. Tails took notes, instructing Metal Sonic to bend his arm and each of his fingers, then to rotate his ankle and point his foot. He stood on it without issue and had no problem balancing himself. Everything was operating correctly.

Tails pointed to Metal’s left arm with his pen. “Can you extend it?”

Metal tried to lengthen the telescoping wire, but struggled. After a few seconds, the arm jutted out and fell to the floor limply. He heard Amy’s soft gasp from behind him before she scuttered around front and stood next to Tails.

“Hmm. Thought that might happen. Sorry, I don’t have enough experience with that tech. You’ll have to give me more time.” He scribbled more on his notepad before returning to his computer

Metal was able to reel his arm back into place slowly. He watched it snake on the ground before it reached all the way back into its socket. At that moment, he felt a hand on his and turned upward to meet Amy’s gaze. “I’m sorry that didn’t work, but I’m happy you’re in one piece.” Metal glanced down at his hand. She felt warm. He then looked back to her and did the best impression of a “thank you” that could be sung with mechanical chimes.

“You’re welcome.” They were each surprised to hear her say that. Could she understand him? Amy excitedly laced her fingers with his, giggling at the thought. 

Tails cleared his throat from his desk. “I don’t know what you’re saying thank you for when I fixed him single handedly,” Tails teased.

Amy let go of Metal abruptly, crossing her arms. “I could've helped if you’d let me!”

Tails snickered at this before Amy’s snarl intensified and he found it best to change the subject . “Well if you two are done, I still have to talk to Metal about something. C’mere.”

Amy sauntered behind the multitude of screens with Metal on her heels. What appeared to be x-rays lined the monitors. “This is Metal’s core,” Tails explained. “There’s a huge crack in the armature here. It’ll need welding.”

Amy raised a hand over her mouth at the realization. Her eyebrows curled in guilt. She knew that the damage was from their battle two days earlier; and she had helped Sonic deal the finishing blow. The beam that ran up and down Metal’s head and torso like a spine was cracked in two places. 

“I don’t think I can do it with this cast, so you’ll have to wait a few weeks. II’ll let you know when I’m ready. Oh, and avoid water for now- some snow must have seeped into your system from the cracks and damaged a few things.” Tails explained it all very indifferently. “You’ll be pretty waterproof once I fix it.”

Tails spoke a bit more about the repairs he’d made and what still needed to be done. With his memory, with his body, how he’d refueled the robot and other upkeep. Amy found herself panicking as she listened to the extensive list of things that needed to be done, knowing much of it was on her conscience. Metal noticed her panic, looking from her back to the black and white screen. 

She had to take a deep breath to avoid losing her composure. “Thank you, Tails. I think we should head home.”

Tails let out a yawn and looked at the time. It was close to midnight. He’d spent the day focused on everything but himself, and realized suddenly how hungry and tired he was. “Alright. The jacket’s by the lab door.”

“Hey, make sure you get some rest.” Amy pleaded. Tails had a habit of overworking himself.

He stretched out his arms. “I will.”

Amy went in for a side hug that Tails returned. “I mean it, go to sleep this time,” she smiled.

“Alright, don’t worry,” he chuckled. 

Amy and metal saw themselves out, picking his jacket up from a coat hook by the door. Metal was able to slip it on himself. He thought it felt weird to put on clothes, but was pleased he could do it himself. The pair strode out the front door, Amy bracing herself before crossing the threshold. The opening snapped closed behind them and they took off down the hill. The night was cold but clear. Amy shoved her hands deep into her pockets for warmth. “Let’s take the long way,” she suggested. Metal emulated her by slipping his own hands into the pockets of his thin jacket and nodded. The two strode the short way home quietly, under a dark sky dotted with lustrous stars.

.................................................

Notes: I’m going to start adding the tag “metamy unfamiliar” in case anyone wants to follow it (but I would greatly appreciate a blog follow, too ❤️)

[theflowerisblue]

@evavvillas going live with @laneboyjor

Alba: now it’s Tomi’s time. While we wait for him, I want to say I’m infinitely thankful for everything, you are skam, the fans are- well! You’ve cut my speech! I was saying something super cute.

Tomi: go on.

Alba: well you’re super important. Everything we’re doing is because of you. And its been super rewarding to see your support. That’s all. How are you?

Tomi: I’m good. And you?

Alba: I’m good. I don’t know if you want to say something before we start. But I’ll be reading some questions.

Tomi: okay.

Alba: we could talk about the casting where we met. You are quite experienced with castings.

Tomi: okay. We met during the castings and you weren’t the only girl. There were other options, but you were the first. So there must’ve been some kind of favoritism already there. They already knew they wanted you for the part.

Alba: I owe bego and the casting director so much. They really trusted me and they’ve given me everything.

Tomi: I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m wearing jorge’s clothes.

Alba: aw! That’s so cute. But you don’t have jorge’s hair anymore. “What’s the best story we have of filming together?”

Tomi: I don’t know if it’s a good story. But I love the day we filmed our last scene of season one. We were going to talk before the shooting and I couldn’t even eat because of the nerves. I had such an adrenaline that day.

Alba: yeah. It was super magical. The thing is tomi and I met during the first season and we became best friends. Well, at least I think you’re my best friend. And What made that last scene so special is that so many of the things Eva and Jorge were saying to each other, applied to us. And also the whole team kind of cuddle us that day. Everything was so good.

Tomi: that first season made me realize that I can never give up on my dream. This is what I want to be. To anyone who wants to be an actor like us or wants to work in anything related to the arts, even if things don’t seem to be working out or even if the odds aren’t in your favor, dreams come true. Look at us! We had the luck of finding a project like this that makes keep the flame and the want of doing this. That’s the biggest gift I take with me.

Alba: another question is “what was the first scene we shot together? ”

Tomi: the first scene was the scene of the first day of school from the first episode. It’s after the stairs and I have to get you from behind and scare you. I go “boo!”

Alba: yeah and then Hugo, Lucas and Dilan come.

Tomi: yeah and we push you away from the circle. I remember being there behind the bush super scared and they yelled “action!”

Alba: “did you know each other before skam?” No, we didn’t. We met during castings. “Did Jorge and Eva end up together?” We have to tell this! I believe you’ve all watched the last clips and you’ve seen that Jorge and Eva kiss. I think they’re the clear example of “right person, wrong time” obviously Eva and Jorge love each other and are meant to be together but the first season wasn’t the right moment for it. And when we were filming this last season, on de day I go to bego and I say “I think eva and Jorge should end up together.” And bego goes “I think so too”. So then Nicole thought of me kissing tomi in the middle of the scene without warning him. So in the kiss you see in the clip, tomi had no clue what was going on! You see I lean in and he’s like taken aback for a second.

Tomi: because Jorge had been so obvious all through the show! He had come to terms with the friendzone and then he was shocked! I tried to get them together as well! But I didn’t get the same answer.

Alba: I don’t understand what they’re saying (she’s reading the comments) I’m fucking up. “What do you think is Eva and jorge’s future together?” I don’t know if they’ll be a couple but I’m sure they’ll close friends forever.

Tomi: I think getting back together depends on Eva.

Alba: I believe that after that last kiss something MUST have happened.

Tomi: I hope so.

Alba: do you think Jorge wants to be with Eva?

Tomi: C’mon obviously! My boy doesn’t even hide it.

Alba: “will there be bloopers?” Oh I hope so! They must be so funny. I remember during season 1 I couldn’t stop laughing. They had to cut so many scenes because I couldn’t stop, mostly when shooting with Alex. Then I relaxed in the other seasons but...last question before we say goodbye, we’ll you say goodbye and I call Celia. Let’s talk about how you felt filming with me and we the rest of the team, your overall experience with skam and then I say what I felt. That’s like a mash up of all the questions.

Tomi: how much time do we have left?

Alba: one minute and I half? Two minutes?

Tomi: so I can give my answer and say goodbye at the same time. Well I was really lucky getting to film with you. I knew from the beginning that we had a special connection. We were actually shown the tape of our casting the other day and it was so crazy cause we had never seen it, and I remembered it so bad because I was so nervous. They had asked me “what about the first girl?” And I was like I don’t know! And then I saw it and I flipped. You could really see our connection on and off camera. So I hope I get to have you around for the rest of my life.

Alba: I feel exactly the same. I was terrified because I was a baby, just 17 years old. And when we started filming and I’ve ever had a boyfriend and I had to build this whole relationship and having that experience would’ve helped. But I’m so grateful because we build something so beautiful and it was so special. All seasons had something really special, but I believe the first season made feel like we were in this bubble, specially you and me. And you can totally see it on screen. And we had no clue at all of what would become of the show. We couldn’t imagine the show would be loved by so many people, that it would help so many people and I don’t know.

Tomi: and the team is so important. When you watch a show that’s so well done like ours, you get inside that world and the character’s stories and you don’t take time to ask yourself how each epicene was made. And each scene was like a journey, days and days of filming for each season, you miss the weekend. It’s like you’re a sailor but on land. And each person has a role and if someone doesn’t do their job right the. The whole scene won’t look right. So we need to remember this is thanks to every single person that worked on the show. Like even we didn’t go every day to set after the first season.

Alba: all of this is bego’s fault. She’s kind of in charge of choosing everyone on the team and the one who has built something so important with everyone behind scenes. How we are off screen matters on screen.

Tomi: bego is an amazing director and she has magic. The most important part of a director is knowing to value every person in your team and being able to create a good environment. Having a clear idea but making it easier to approach you and talk. And we were so lucky and we were lucky with the fans! Who knew how to perceive this.

Alba: bego and tapi if you’re seeing this we love you so much, thank you! We’re running out of time, I have to call Celia. Do you have any last words for Jorge?

Tomi: YOU CANT LISTEN TO HIM IM SO MAD I WANT TO KNOW WHAT HE SAID.

Alba: I don’t think I can hear you. Is that all?

Tomi: that’s all.(WHATS ALL?)

Alba: my connection was kind of bad. But I love you too, thank you! For everything!

Tomi: bye!

Alba: bye, i love you!

Tomi: me too.

[t-tyrants]

FRIENDS NOW :)

Wrote a lil creepypasta based on the two pictures I drew of Zipper.  I haven’t written any pastas in a while so I hope u enjoy!

Like almost everyone on twitter, I too have spent my quarantine time playing the new animal crossing. It has been a really good distraction from the chaos of the panicking world. It was probably the only thing keeping my mental health from jumping off a cliff. While I am only 24, I still was part of the at risk group. Having a weak heart, I have had to be very careful of my own health fo my whole life. I didn’t really want to die right now, so I’ve been mulled up in my flat, getting paranoid over every cough. The only thing that had been keeping me from overthinking is animal crossing.

Making friends with the animals visiting my island had been my main focus. No critter was allowed to leave my humble abode without having all their dreams and hopes fulfilled. Some of my favorites were Mischka, Raymond and Lolly. What can I say, I like cats? Of course, I visited some of my real friends’ islands too. But while I could do most of my work home office style in a few hours, many of them didn’t have that privilege. Lizzy was out there, saving lifes, Matt was getting yelled at by customers and I was just sitting on my ass, playing video games. Sometimes I felt bad about it. Sometimes I was simply thankful. They were all very tired but they still took some time out of their life to check in with me. After all this would be over, I would try to make it up to them. 

Still, all I could do now was talk to animals, get some peaches, catch some fishes and draw new clothes. Day in, day out. It started to feel like routine. So when the easter special event started, I was hyped. Sure, those were pretty much the same game mechanics as before but i was way more interested in the elusive Zipper T. Bunny himself. I have had never played an animal crossing game before so I wasn’t aware that he was a part of the game. I had spent hours finding eggs all around the island just to get a few dialog lines from that weird bunny. Of course, I was pretty sure that this wasn’t a bunny. The big zipper, the unmoving eyes, the forced happiness - whoever was under this suit was doing a job and would prefer to be at home. 

But that wouldn't stop me. I tried talking to him again and again in hopes of getting a new line of dialog. Still, I knew it was a game. I knew that Zipper wouldn't just get out of his head and show me his real self. But I was convinced that there had to be some sort of easter egg for the curious players. There had to be. I had spend so much time working for the easter event, I didn’t even notice that the real deal was getting closer too. 

I woke up gasping for air from a nightmare I forgot just as quickly. Looking at the alarm clock, I could see it was 2:54 AM, Sunday. It was easter. I got out of bed, there was no use trying to fall asleep now. Instead, I walked to my couch and turned the switch on. Getting comfy between the couch cushions, I walked up to Zipper. “Happy Easter,” I chimed into the darkness of my flat. I didn’t talk to Zipper, I just stood next to him, as all of a sudden, I could feel tears in the corners of my eyes. The game had been a great distraction but now, at 3 am, it all came crashing down on me. 

I was lonely, I was stressed, I was afraid. 

And all I could do is play a game and run after a rabbit. 

“Aren’t you tired?” A dialog prompt. I rubbed the tears from my eyes and looked up. “Not really,” I sighed as I answered with ‘No’. “Why?” Zipper asked. Now this was something different. “You are very persistent. Don’t you have anything else to do?” I leaned closer to the TV as I pressed ‘No’ again. Zipper was finally talking. This was what I had hoped for all this time. “You aren’t going to stop bothering me?” Ha, you wish. I pressed ‘No’. Zipper T. Bunny turned towards me. Not my character. But me, behind the TV screen. He grabbed my character’s hand. They just stood there, quietly looking towards me, swaying a tiny bit with the wind. They looked so cute. What a cute thing to include in the game. Now if I only could get to photo-mode… 

“What do you want from me?” The dialog field was unexpected. Instead of three options, a keyboard popped up. This was my chance. I started typing frantically. “Who are you? Why do you wear a suit? What do you do when you aren’t working for this easter event? Who are you really? Can we be friends?” The keyboard disappeared. I hadn’t even pressed ‘send’. How strange. The game stopped. Nothing moved. No more music. Did I break it? Mashing all buttons, nothing happened. Before I could get up, a dialog field popped up. “Do you really want to know who I am?” I pressed my back into the couch. ‘Yes.’ “Do you really want to be friends?” Holy shit. “Of course,” I called out while pressing ‘Yes’ again. 

The dialog disappeared again and all was quiet. All but a weird buzzing. As it grew louder, suddenly the TV started to flicker. Was it breaking right now? I was uncovering the most interesting, literal easter egg and my TV wanted to destroy it all for me? 

The screen turned red. The green, lively island was gone, replaced by some weird, red mush. But Zipper T. Bunny and my character were still standing there. Still, they too had changed. I stared, mesmerized. His head was gone. The bunny suit head. But beneath it… was nothing. Just empty air. At the neck, red liquid left the suit, dirtying the otherwise radiant yellow. I was so intrigued by this change which was entirely inappropriate for a children's game, I hadn’t even looked at my character. It’s pupils were gone and blood had started pouring out of her eyes, nose and mouth. 

Now, I was searching for some sort of easter egg but this was too much. Who would even put something like this into animal crossing? What if a small child stumbled across this? This would traumatize them and ruin a whole video game franchise and pobably stuffed animals for them. Maybe even the whole concept of eastern. 

As I wanted to get up and take my phone to document this mess, I could feel it all of a sudden. Cold breath hit my neck. Cold breath, followed by even colder hands that crawled over my shoulders. I froze, unable to even move my eyes from the display. I could feel the icy nails scrap over my skin, seemingly carefully not to draw blood. My whole back was covered in goosebumps. “So….” The voice was raspy and deep. “Do you really wanna be friends?” I had to suppress the urge to laugh nervously. This was really happening. The bunny suit on TV was twitching. The hands slowly wandered up to my neck. “Of course,” the words left my mouth all of a sudden. The hands stopped. “Are you sure?” Relieved that my neck was still untouched, I decided to go all in. “Absolutely. That’s why I tried talking so much to you before.”

Silence. The whole room seemed frozen. It felt like hours had passed when the voice returned. “So you really had fun with the easter event?” The voice sounded softer and quieter. “Yes,” my voice was quivering too. “Would you mind… if I stick around even when easter is over?” There was a lot of sadness in his voice. For a split second, I felt like the two of us were just the same. Lonely, stressed, afraid. 

“You can stay as long as you want to,” I said, driven by this realisation, only to regret it right away. I didn’t know what I just agreed to. I should have asked questions. But as soon as the words had left my mouth, the hands were lifted from my shoulders and the cold breathe disappeared. I was still stuck in place, frozen. 

I didn’t know how much time had passed but it felt like I was woken up again when the music started playing from the TV again. I looked up, it was all back to normal. My island was back, my character looked as always and Zipper T. Bunny, head and all, was turned towards them. There was a dialog box open. As I read it, I didn’t know what to feel at all. Was I scared? Happy? Confused? All I knew was that I should get back to bed. I quickly shut off the switch and walked up to my bed. As i hid beneath the covers, pressing my eyes closed, trying to fall asleep, Zipper’s last words just wouldn’t leave my head. “FRIENDS NOW :)” 

When I woke up a few hours later, the flat seemed to be frozen. Absentmindedly I ran up to my heater, trying to get some warmth into these rooms. It was already put on the highest setting. I walked up to my kitchen window and opened it. I was expecting to see snow with this temperature but outside, it was warm. I kept the window open as I turned around to look for clues. Not sure what to do, I decided to check up on animal crossing again. Starting the game, there was nothing pointing towards last night's weird occurrence. Talking to Zipper, he was back to his old tunes and none of the villagers seemed to be changed either. I was nearly convinced that this was a bad dream, when i opened up the album and saw a new pictures. 

Staring back at me from the TV was Zipper T. Bunny holding my hand, head missing with a crude smile drawn over the empty space.

With tired eyes, I smiled back the picture. It was comforting in a strange way. Somehow, the flat felt less empty now. 

Just a little colder. 

[lifeofanerdygirl]

A Love Greater Than Potstickers

So I wrote a one shot from a prompt post I saw on @itskaradanversbitch and this is the original post that I reblogged/responded to:

https://itskaradanversbitch.tumblr.com/post/187227293858/post-reveal-and-lena-doesnt-want-anything-to-do

However, I also wanted to just post it normally as well. Enjoy and let me know what you think!

//

A soft knock comes from her office door and she looks up from the piles of paperwork that are scattered across her desk. She almost doesn’t register that it was a knock, as she was so entranced in her work, but luckily she had been acclimated to listening for the sound as time went on. A knock could mean something or someone important and she didn’t want to risk her assistant looking like an idiot in front of an investor by repeatedly knocking on her door. No, Lena Luthor was not going to be made a fool of. However, over the past couple of years that someone, more often than not, ended up not being an investor, but her best friend Kara Danvers. Someone, she loved looking forward to seeing and couldn’t wait to hear her knock.

However, as of three weeks ago, she stopped anticipating and hoped she didn’t show up. Lex’s revealing of Kara’s secret to her had been too much for Lena to handle and she cut all ties with her after an ugly confrontation that ended in a waterfall of tears and shattered hearts. Her stomach immediately begins turning and she quickly shuts the door on all the details that are rushing to make their escape, as she doesn’t want to relive one of the worst days of her life.

She hears another knock at the door, snapping her out of her thoughts, and finally makes her way across the room to open it. Who it could be at seven at night on a Friday was a mystery to her as everyone was gone for the day and enjoying their evenings. Unlike her, who had to finish up paperwork before she could even begin to think about the weekend. However, due to the most recent events, she’d rather be knee-deep in paperwork than at home where all she could think about was the fact that everyone had betrayed her and she had no one left she considered a friend.

Cautiously opening the door, she sees a delivery man wearing a grease-stained uniform standing there with a large bag in his hands with contents that smell oddly familiar.

“Delivery for Miss Luthor,” he says in a tone that is almost too cheery, at least for Lena’s taste.

“I didn’t order anything,” she responds, with a confused look on her face.

“Yes, I know. A special request came in to have this delivered to you. If you could sign for me please so I can be on my way.”

She didn’t want to accept the food, as she had no idea who it came from, but it smells so good and she realizes that she hasn’t eaten dinner yet. Plus, she didn’t want to be rude to the delivery man either, as he was just doing his job. She soon hears her stomach grumbling and decides that she has no other option but to take it.

She signs the slip and hands it back over to the man who gives her the bag, wishes her goodnight and heads towards the elevator.

Lena shuts the office door, locking it behind her, and makes her way to the couch, placing the bag on the coffee table as she sits down. Now that she is able to glance at it closer, she notices that Big Belly Burger is printed across the bag in large letters and her office is filled with the aroma of a burger and fries.

Kara Danvers, she mutters, knowing it could be from no one else but her. Of course, she would do something like this yet alone have it come from Big Belly Burger, one of her favorite fast food joints.

After a moment she realizes there is a note attached to the bag with her name scribbled on the outside. She carefully detaches and unfolds it and begins to read.

Lena,

I know you still hate me and it’s going to take time for you to forgive me, but I still can’t help but think of you. Especially, when it comes to your eating habits or should I say lack thereof. Anyways, I knew you’d be working late, as you always do, so I wanted to at least be able to feed you. Now, I wish I could be there with you, enjoying your company, but this is my only option right now so I’d rather it’d be this than nothing. I hope you enjoy the meal, as it makes me think of happier times.

Love,

Kara

Lena looks up from the note, tears forming in the corners her eyes and a mix of sadness and anger building within her. She did miss Kara, but what she did was inexcusable and she couldn’t forgive her just like that. Right now her anger and frustration were at the forefront and a meal wasn’t going to fix this.

She quickly makes her way over to the desk and picks up her phone. She finds Kara’s text thread, which is mostly filled with unanswered I’m sorry’s and please call me’s from the last few weeks, and types her reply.

You know food isn’t going to fix this so please don’t send me dinner again. I will not eat this. The thought of it causes my stomach to turn because of what you did to me and the times we have shared eating this same meal.

She quickly presses send and stares at the phone waiting to see if Kara would read the message. It’s only seconds later when Lena notices she has but receives no response.

Happy that she doesn’t have to deal with a reply, as she doesn’t have the time or energy, she plumps back down in her chair and resumes going over her paperwork from earlier. After ten minutes have passed, however, she can’t ignore the smell that is wafting from the discarded bag on the coffee table and goes over to pick it up. I will not eat you, she says to the bag and places it in her mini-fridge to give to her assistant tomorrow. Lena knows she doesn’t care about eating leftovers and will happily accept the offering, no questions asked. The bag, now out of sight and out of mind, allows her to continue her paperwork and she ends up leaving her office shortly after 9.

-

Over the course of the next few workdays, dinner, to Lena’s disapproval, continuously shows up around seven with a heartfelt note attached. Every night she accepts the meal and immediately places it in her mini-fridge to give to her assistant the next day, after removing the unread note and placing it in her desk drawer. On Monday it ended up being a steak dinner with mashed potatoes and veggies on the side. On Tuesday it was fettuccine alfredo with a side salad from one of the most popular Italian eateries in the city. On Wednesday it was a fresh chef salad from one of her favorite cafés and today it is Chinese, which of course is one of Kara’s favorite types of food.

Upon glancing at the containers, Lena notices one contains potstickers. Tears fill her eyes and she can’t help but think of Kara. She never shared her precious potstickers and Lena would always tease her about it. Even though she wished she could snag one once in a while, she knew how much Kara loved those things and was fine with not receiving any. She enjoyed watching her stuff her mouth full with a big, goofy grin plastered across her face.

She finds the note that always accompanies the meal, but instead of placing it unread in her desk drawer like she had done with the previous ones, she decides to open it.

Lena,

You know how much I love potstickers and don’t share them with anyone, even you. Well, it turns out I love and care about you more so to show this I am giving you all these potstickers to help make up for all of those times and for my secret I kept from you. I know it’s not enough to make up for everything, but I hope it’s at least a start.

Love,

Kara

Lena’s eyes fill with more tears, which now begin to cascade down her cheeks.

I can’t let these go to waste. As much as I hate her right now, I can’t bear to see them go to my assistant. Kara’s potstickers are too valuable for that.

Opening up all the containers, she begins to dig into her meal. Within a matter of minutes, most of the food is gone and there are no potstickers to spare.

Okay, Kara, you were right. I did need to eat, she says rubbing her now full stomach.

Now more content and energized than she was before the meal, she finishes up her paperwork and ends up leaving the office at 8, earlier than she expected she would.

Opening her front door, she places her keys and purse on the counter and walks towards the direction of her bedroom. She changes into an oversized sweatshirt and lounge pants and pulls her hair up into a messy bun. She walks back into the kitchen and pours herself a glass of red wine and then heads over to her couch, sits down and opens up her text thread from Kara again.

Thank you for the meal tonight. I didn’t realize how much I needed it. It meant a lot to me that you shared your potstickers. Have a good night.

After pressing send, Lena stares at the phone, waiting to see if Kara’s read the message. An agonizing 5 minutes later it shows she finally has. The text bubbles start to appear, but then disappear again several times, leaving Lena frustrated. Now she realizes that this is how Kara must’ve felt when she didn’t respond.

What are you doing Kara? Are you going to respond or not?

Finally, just as Lena is about to give up, she receives a message. It’s simple, but also Kara, especially given their situation.

A simple heart emoji displays on her screen.

Lena can’t help but smile and sets her phone down beside her on the couch. She takes a sip of wine and lets her thoughts wander. Maybe, just maybe, they can get through all of this and start to rebuild their friendship.

[dragongirl642]

Bumblebee x reader x Swindle

Author note: Reader is gender neutral (which is getting easier the more I do...yay) so come one come all.

There are two endings, depending on who you choose.

Third Person:

(Y/n) (l/n) was a perfectly average, normal person. At only (y/a) years old they liked enjoying the simpler things in life; hot cocoa and a blanket on a chilly winter afternoon, a towel and time at the beach on a scorching summers day or sitting on a window seat reading a book as the rain falls outside.

However, now was not one of those nice moments.

 Your pov:

For one it was pouring with rain, ‘my new jacket’s getting soaked…not only that but a murderous robot is chasing me’.

I run as fast as I can, pumping my arms just how I’ve seen the Olympians do. This really is my big debut. I grabbed a lamp-post as I ran past to swing quickly round the street corner down a narrow slipway. I kept going even as the sound of the jet roared past the opening of the too narrow slipway. Good thing I kept running for I soon heard the sound of giant footsteps as the being struggled to push its way after me.

I shot out the other end of the slipway and sprinted for the looming towers of junk before me. I rounded a couple of corners in the junkyard and practically dove under the rusted corpse of a car. ‘Well, at least I’m out of the rain’.

The floor shook with the vibrations caused by that thing as it called out in a mocking voice.

“Come out, Come out little organic. Come bow before the soon-to-be ruler of this world.”

I gasped as the car was lifted off me and thrown back. The jet-robot standing above me. My eyes widened as I saw the bottom of its foot descend towards me. I was so scared, I couldn’t even close my eyes as my death became a suddenly not-so-distant reality.

“SCHZRK”

The sound of ‘is that laser fire’ came from above me and the foot rapidly left my vision as the robot was blasted bag by a zigzagging stream of light.

“Get away from the girl Starscream!” a voice yelled just as giant feet passed over you once more. A red and blue robot holding an axe attacked the jet robot along with a green bulky robot, a gold and black robot and a yellow robot.  

The yellow robot called out taunts as he shot the streams of light at the robot again. “Yeah Screamer, back off!”

The jet, ‘or Starscream as he seems to be called’, fell back over the upturned car he had thrown off me.

“Curse you Autobots!”

With wide eyes I watched as Starscream scrambled to his feet and with a backflip, transformed into a jet and took off; leaving all the other robots to turn to look at me.

“Hehe…uh thank you for saving me but I’ll be going now.”

Spinning on my heel, I take off running. No destination in mind, just anywhere but here. A giant, yellow hand grabs me, lifting me into the air.

“Waaahhhh!” I struggle to get out of the robots grip. I’m turned to face the red and blue robot.

“Please remain calm, we wish you no harm.” The green one cut in, “in fact we just saved your life”.

I stopped struggling but my heart and mind were racing. I wracked my brains, trying to think of a way out this mess. I started seeing dark spots, I started holding my breath I was that scared. I took a deep breath to try and calm down, not noticing the Autobot’s worried looks as the sudden influx of oxygen causes me to pass out.

 ---------------------------Timeskip to the autobot base---------------------------

 I awoke to large chocolate brown eyes looking into my own (e/c) ones. I screamed, waving my arms I pushed the figure away and fell off of a sofa onto a hard, concrete floor.  I sat up, rubbing my side as I cautiously looked around. My eyes falling on a young girl, looking quite startled at my outburst.

“Uh…sorry for screaming in your face.” I apologised thoroughly embarrassed with my actions. She just stares at me before breaking into a broad smile.

“That’s ok…nice to meet you…I’m Sari.” She holds out her hand and I give it a little shake.

I stand up and brush myself off. Just as I was about to ask where I was this little girl launches into a full-blown speech about how I was rescued by the Autobots and the Decepticons and how I should be so grateful that they had been there to save me from Starscream. I mostly shut down but some things got through.

‘Ratchet? Optimus? Weird names…and who calls their kid Bulkhead? Even better…who calls their kid Bumblebee?’

The floor shifted below me; vibrations, in the pattern of footsteps, jolting me out of my reverie. ‘OH NO! NOT MORE ROBOTS!’

I looked around frantically for a place to hide. There was a TV with some cabinets just beyond the sofa…and some lockers against the wall. I had to protect us both…hiding seemed like the best option.

I picked up the girl, abruptly cutting off her speech and leapt the sofa. Adjusting her in my arms, I ignored her protests and sprinted for the wall. I opened the locker dove inside and shut us both in.

“Sari?” A really nice voice with a definitely robotic timbre sounded in the room. The girl in my arms squirmed and was about to yell out when I clapped my hand over her mouth; making shooshing motions frantically.

“Sari you there? Wait the other girl’s gone too. Sari come out! No hiding! Sari!” The voice showed panic. The girl in my arms squirmed even more fiercely, kicking the locker door, her pigtails getting in my mouth.  

My heart leapt into my mouth as the door to the locker was wrenched right of its hinges.

Bright blue ‘eyes?…uh optics?’ stared in. They looked into my eyes and although I was petrified, I also felt this calm; the childish light within these blue orbs piercing my very soul.

The girl wiggled out of my loosening arms and bolted from the locker.

“Are you crazy lady!...you almost squished me” She yelled. I snapped out of my trance and looked between her and the robot.

I slowly stepped out of the locker as the robot backed up and stood, grinning broadly.

“I’m sorry…uh Sari was it? Who’s your friend?”

The girl perked up all, all grudges lost; and began excitedly introducing me to her friend Bumblebee.

 ------------------------Timeskip for excitable Sari-------------------

 So I’ve met the Autobots…they’re not going to kill me so I feel slightly safer. Sari was a nice kid, ‘If she can survive being with these Autobots, then so can I.’ Being here every day for the past 3 weeks has helped as well. (It’s the summer holiday so if you’re a student…I got you covered).

The only one I would really watch out for is Ratchet, ‘a.k.a grumpy bot’, and Prowl, ‘since I never know what he’s thinking’.

Optimus was overbearingly good, Bulkhead was kind and Bumblebee was just overall cute. ‘Wait did I say cute…I meant hyperactive and loud and playful and adorable and…losing my train of thought again’.

Right now, I was sitting on the couch in the Autobot’s, base of sorts. Sari on my left and Bumblebee on my right. The two were playing a videogame and I was cheering them on.

“Player 1 wins!”

“Ahh Bee no fair” Sari groans, while I grin and pick up the controller.

“I play winner!” I call.

Sari sits up her failure forgotten…“kick his can (y/n).”

I turn towards the screen, annoyed as I see Bee’s character is already winning. I mash buttons in a bid to regain the ground I’ve lost.

‘The only way I could win now is if Bee got distracted…’ an evil thought creeps into my mind.

“Cute aft Bee,” I say catching the young bot off-guard, he splutters and looks at me wide-eyed; completely forgetting the game…which I win.

“Player 2 wins!”

I look at Bumblebee triumphantly, “Looks like I win then.”

He frowns, faceplate scrunched up in annoyance, “No fair (y/n) you distracted me.”

I just shrug, “ah, c’est la vie.”

“Who wants to go for a race?” Sari’s comment instantly perking up Bumblebee.

I had recently acquired an Urbana 500 (get the reference XD) in black with red accents, ‘I had considered getting yellow but I was sure bumblebee, and definitely Sari, would notice the coincidence.’

I bounced off the sofa and began running to a door. “The last one out’s a rotten egg!”

Just as I planned Bumblebee bounded over my head and through the door, ‘I wonder how long it’ll take him to figure out he’s gone the wrong way?’ I chuckled as I promptly turned a 180 and jogged for the real exit. Sari laughing herself as she jogged alongside me.

We jogged into the bright sunshine, I lifted a hand to shield my eyes as I leaned against the door of my car. Soon enough Bumblebee came sprinting out the opening, “Oh man does this make me the rotten egg…uh Sari, what’s a rotten egg?”

She just motioned him down and told him the answer.

“Eww, Sari…I don’t wanna be a rotten egg.” Was the disgusted reply.

“Calm down Bee, just race (y/n)…I’ll referee.” Was the nonchalant Sari’s reply.

I got in my car while Bee transformed.

The engine started with a purr and Bee gave a competitive rev.

Sari Scrabbled atop a nearby dumpster and stood on top of it. “Okay, first to get the junkyard and back wins!” she called.

I smirked competitively and glanced to my side to look at Bee, he was practically vibrating with excitement.

“Hey Bee, what do I get if I win?”

“I don’t know what do you want?” came his reply, “Better yet, if I win (y/n), you have to…go on a date with me!”

He called over his wish just as Sari yelled: “Go!” Bee roared forward, I stalled a second, shocked by his request; before shooting forward myself.

‘Sneaky bot just used my own trick on me; He can’t have been serious…could he?’

We raced around corners; soon were speeding down empty back roads and deserted streets, trying to one-up the other.

We turned a corner into the junkyard, there were two paths; Bee went right and I went left. I gunned the engine, zooming forward and round a corner at breakneck speed.

I could see where our two paths connected again and headed for the exit as one path. I pushed the accelerator all the way down, hoping to get in front of Bee.

“SUCCESS!”

I was now in front of Bumblebee, ‘That means I’m winning J…now to really annoy him.’  I slowly pressed the brake, if I slowed it would force Bee to slow as well, ‘And we all know Bee loves to go fast.’

But something was wrong, “MY BRAKE’S NOT WORKING…BUMBLEBEE HELP!!!”

I kept the car going straight but a bend was coming up, I turned the wheel but the car just began to spin. A wall of junk loomed over me. Only for the car to drastically slow; I looked out my window to see Bee holding on to my car, stopping it completely.

I opened the door and stumbled out, Bee looking at me worriedly; “Are you okay (y/n)?”

I nodded shakily, my brain trying to unscramble the fact that I almost died…again.

“Uhh…(y/n), you sure you okay? Let’s call off the race, we’ll have Ratchet check you back at base.”

I smiled faintly up at the bot, ‘But this behaviour is strange for Bee, he would never call off a race, and to want to bother Ratchet…for me? Could that earlier statement have been a real request and not a joke? What is up with him?’

While I unscrambled my thoughts and Bee worried none of us noticed a Decepticon come strolling along.

“Well well well, what have we got here…a little Autobot and”, the voice stalled for a second, “its pet.”

An unknown voice spoke from behind Bee, a purple and gold/brown (I’m not sure what his second colour is called, being slightly colour blind does not help…anyone know?) Decepticon strolled up. Before my mind caught up I just blurted out, “Who are you?”

He just smirked and proclaimed “Why Swindle’s the name, trading’s the game...would you like to peruse my wares or have you got something to sell?”

Bumblebee stepped in front of me protectively so I couldn’t see anything around his foot. “You’ll leave her alone Swindle!”

“I never turn down a potential customer, so what will it be Autobot?...I have a nice voxian ray shield, or, for a one time offer...one beating completely free of charge.”

“As if Con!”

Knowing what was coming I sprinted into my car for cover. I ducked down in the backseat and covered my ears, eyes closed, but that wasn’t enough to drown out the loud sounds of fighting outside.

When silence descended, I peaked my head up. Seeing the yellow of bumblebee’s foot just outside the door I open the car door and step out. “So Bee, you sent that Con packing then?” Hearing no reply I look up, my eyes widen to see an unconscious Bumblebee being held up by the Decepticon Swindle.

“Guess again (y/n)!”

‘How does he…?’

Smirking the Con threw him to the floor, the smallest grunt of pain escaping Bee. “Nice folks the Nebulans...they sell some nice weaponry too.”

I ran to Bee, all the while yelling at Swindle “You fragging pile of scrap, what did you do to Bee?”

The Con just smirked at me, “Oh he’s just in stasis and he’ll wake up in a couple of cycles with one pit-spawned processor ache…which reminds me.”

I was snatched up into purple servos and carried off.

“Hey put me down!”

No reply, but Swindle transformed around me, with a small cry off surprise I found myself in the driver’s seat of an armoured Humvee; held tight to the seat by my seatbelt. I raised a foot to kick the dash when a surge of electricity knocked me out cold.

 ----------------Timeskip in darkness----------------------------

 I woke up on a soft, comfy surface; I was also very warm. A rumbling sound could be heard and whatever I was on seemed to be vibrating. I opened my eyes to see I was still held captive within Swindle's vehicle mode. ‘My seatbelt’s gone.’ I stirred, reaching for the door handle. ‘Maybe he’s asleep.’

“Ah ah ah, no escaping for you.”

He transformed again, I was thrown about in the air to land on the Con’s outstretched palm. “Thought you might like to stay warm while you were in stasis…I’ve heard how fragile you organics are.”

I looked up in confusion, “I thought all you Cons didn’t care about humans.”

This made the bot pause a second, he soon recovered and countered with, “We don’t, I just need you in good condition for a sale I’m hoping to make. Plus I’m only a Decepticon second, I’m a business-bot first.” He was wearing a self-satisfied grin as he gave his answer.

I rolled my eyes, ‘now his behaviour makes sense.’

Swindle carried me over to a huge table, ‘obviously not made for humans’, and put me down on its pitted surface. He pressed a button on the underside of the table and what looked like a glass edge emerged from the sides, ‘they’re either a safety measure to stop me falling off the table or see-through prison bars.’

I glared at Swindle’s back evilly, then turned my attention to my prison; ‘I’ve got to find a way out of here.’

I looked around. The room was obviously part of some sort of cybertronian ship, everything was gigantic; to me at least. Three large doors led out; where to, is unknown. ‘Anywhere but here would be great.’ Mentally rolling my eyes I turned my attention to a way to the floor. ‘Baby steps (y/n), baby steps.’ The pitted surface of the table actually held more dips and holes then I had first registered. I casually strolled, ‘real not suspicious like’, over to one of the, to me, gaping, chasms in the table.

I looked down, the hole actually led down into a dark tunnel; with the amount of light I have, I can distinctly see it curving to the left. The walls of the tunnel, in turn, have many dips and curves so if this leads nowhere I could still climb out.

With a glance over my shoulder to make sure Swindle was occupied, I slid down into the tunnel.

I slid around the slight bend and straight down the gently sloping tunnel; just as it began to level out and I thought I was going to stop sliding, I was heading feet first down another tunnel that had opened up below me, going straight down. With a startled gasp I hurled down. I was so shocked I couldn’t even scream, my life flashed before my eyes. This tunnel then began to curve, my back making contact with the, now extraordinarily smooth, surface. It levelled off completely. An end to this mad ride could be seen ahead in the form of light. ‘An opening! What if it’s a sheer drop?’ My thoughts were less than pleasant as I rocketed into the light.

I was blinded and sliding along a flat surface at great speed. I forced my eyes open and almost screamed at the sight before me, I was on the floor, HEADING STRAIGHT FOR SWINDLE’S FOOT!

I pressed with my right foot and hand to try and turn myself. It worked…barely, I just missed Swindles pede and instead slid straight into the wall.

‘Oh for the love of…’ My side slammed into the wall, pain flared along my side. ‘Did I hear a crack? I’m not sure.’

“Are you o…!”, again Swindle caught himself, “Well now…that wasn’t very clever of you.”

Swindle’s voice sounding from above, his annoyed tone easily betraying his mood. He gave an irritated huff and bent down, picking me up off the floor. My tiny human form cradled in his servos, he walked out through a door into another room.

This looked to be some sort of medical bay, I recognised a few of the tools from Ratchet’s toolbox.

In a corner of the room, another table was situated with, what looked like, a cybertronian version of an open dollhouse.

I was placed down beside the house; cradling my arm. The whirs of Swindle transforming sounds behind me but I ignored him; instead opting to run inside the dollhouse to keep as far away from the con as I could.

The open half rooms had doors which led into another layer of rooms…‘ones the con can’t just reach into’.

The door closest to me was slightly ajar, I sped through it and shut it tight behind me. Plunged into a darkness I stood, tensely waiting for any sound from beyond the door. My breathing echoed in the quiet and I strived to hold my breath. I slowly inched along the wall to my left, hoping for another way out. My hand passed over a small square pad in the wall which glowed for a moment.

A click came from behind me and the room was flooded with light. A gasp leaving me as I shielded my eyes from the assault.

When my eyes had adjusted I turned to look at the room I was trapped in. I saw an odd arrangement of human furniture. A desk, a bed, a fridge and a chair. What caught my eye the most, was the small pinboard on the wall leaning against the wall on the desk…covered in pictures of me.

I walked over and studied them. I was just staring, really worriedly, at the photos of me out shopping, or at the park, or with Bumblebee…but bumblebee had been cut out of the photo. ‘Well…this explains how he knew my name.’

A couple of the photos had cybertronian writing on them. I couldn’t read it but something suspiciously like a heart was drawn on one of them.

“What are you doing!?” Swindle’s voice, though a lot less robotic, sounded behind me.

I spun around, eyes wide to see a human around my age, but in a purple suit with a gold/brown shirt with a black tie. He had black hair and shockingly bright, violet eyes. He looked at me with anger, ‘and fear?’, in his eyes.

“Let me ask you again. What…are…you…doing?”

I looked in shock at this human version of Swindle. “Wha…how…I’m…uh” I stuttered.

He stomped over, grabbed my arm and practically dragged me from the room. I stared at him as I was led from the room, my arm protesting as we moved. He was blushing heavily…and then it hit me.

I yanked my arm out of Swindle’s grip, although it really hurt, and confronted him. “There isn’t any deal is there.”

It was more of a statement than a question and he knew it.

He shuffled his feet, refusing to look me in the eyes, “No…there isn’t…not for you. I saw you with Bumblebee and I felt…”

I looked at him in shock. However, this soon morphed into anger.

I then proceeded to rant at the ashamed con, cutting him off. “So you kidnap me and hurt my friend all for some stupid crush!”

He forced himself to meet my eyes and yelled at me, this time cutting me off, “There’s no deal for you because you’re priceless! I would never sell you to the Decepticons. I admit that was what I first thought when I first saw you with that Autobot. But…you were laughing and beautiful and the sun just gleamed in your hair and I felt this feeling in my spark. I knew I had finally found someone I would never trade.”

My heart jumped at that but instead I scoffed; looking to the side I said, “The Autobots told me you’d sell your own mother for…” I stopped. When I looked back I saw bright tears gleaming in Swindles eyes. I only caught a glimpse of one rolling down his cheek before he promptly dissolved into pixels and vanished. I stared at the spot he had just been only to look to the edge of the table when I heard the familiar transforming sounds. Swindle stood looking down at me; he raised one servo and rested it on the table, his optics focused on spot just behind me, deep in thought. Eventually, his pain filled optics met my eyes and I tensely waited for his next move.

Swindle looked at me, exvented heavily and, honestly, I considered running when Swindle suddenly snatched me up in his servo. He swiftly walked out of the room and down a metal corridor. Silence descends as I’m carried to an unknown destination.

I open my mouth to ask where Swindle is taking me when….light blinds me. Swindle had opened a cybertronian size door that led outside. I rubbed my eyes; while they adjusted I was lowered to the floor. I landed on a soft cushion of crushed grass and looked up at Swindle; questions in my eyes.

The cybertronian purposely turned away from me and drew a communicator out of his hammerspace under his chest. He straightened his back and tapped on the symbol on its screen before a window popped up, showing an angry Bumblebee.

“What! Swindle…What have you done with (y/n)!” the irate Bee yelled down the link.

“Nothing you need to worry your head about Bumblebee…in fact they’re all yours. I’m sending you coordinates…meet me there if you want your pet back!” With a final self-assured smirk, the bot cut the link.

Once the screen went black, the bots entire demeanour changed again. He seemed to shrink, his servos clenched into fists and his optics were shinier than usual. Small half-hearted chuckles left his prone form and one servo then moved to rest over his chassis. Those were the only glimpses I saw before he promptly transformed into his alt-mode.

“Get in.”

I complied, not daring to disobey the now frankly unstable bot.

As I sat in the passenger seat, the seatbelt automatically tightening around me, I jerked as Swindle suddenly did a 180 and sped off. We zoomed around trees and through dense thickets; his alt-mode jerking and bouncing over roots, however his seatbelt kept me firmly in place, (almost protectively). Eventually, we emerged onto a road. Turning left we began a smoother ride towards wherever Swindle’s coordinates were.

Guilt racked my mind and I decided to at least try and soften the blow for the poor mech. “Swindle…” I trailed off, not really knowing what to say.

He stalled for a short moment then carried on as before.

“There’s nothing you could say (y/n)…I know you’re going to say I can’t buy love or force you to stay. It doesn’t matter now.”

I looked at my lap, hands folded; tense and overwhelmingly filled with self-loathing at the moment. But I looked up when I heard the sound of the dash opening in front of me.

A small black velvet box rested in the small compartment.

“If you care you’ll take it.”

 (Two endings here…skip down for Bumblebee’s)

 Swindle ending:

I stared at the box and went over what it could possibly be in my head. I snapped out of my reverie when a feeling of great sorrow, not mine, washed over me and I saw the compartment beginning to close. Without thinking my hand snatched out and grabbed the box; just in time, brushing the dash as it did so. Swindle almost imperceptibly shivered and I just held the box in my lap. I looked out the window to see us slowing and coming to a stop in…the junkyard. ‘How fitting.’

Bumblebee stood rigid in front of us and Swindle’s transformed. I fell into his servo and took a second to adjust.

The sound of Bee’s stingers powering up reached my ears. “Give (her/him) back Swindle!’

“Calm your gasket Autobot, here you go…they were useless to me anyway.”

Bumblebee looked shocked as Swindle calmly walked over and deposited me into his hurriedly transformed servo; however, Swindle’s callous words didn’t match his sorrowful tone and certainly didn’t hide the energon leaking from his optics. Without any further ado, Swindle transformed and sped off.

We both stared after the mech; Bee with shock and me with…something else.

While Bee was distracted I hurriedly stuffed the box in a pocket; the motion drawing Bumblebee’s attention.

“Are you alright (y/n)? Did he hurt you? Don’t worry I’ll get you to Ratchet!”

The worried bot transformed around me and took me back to the base.

 ------------------Timeskip------------------------

 Turns out I had fractured my arm and a rib; Ratchet had had Bumblebee take me to a human hospital to get patched up. After that, I had asked him to take me home, which he had reluctantly done. The concerned bot would only leave after I promised, four times, to call if I needed him. Though that didn’t stop him and Sari dropping round unannounced a few times.

It had been a few weeks now and I was sat on my bedroom’s window seat; cup of hot cocoa in hand, watching the rainfall.

Bumblebee had sent me many calls and requests to come to the base but I had always made some excuse. ‘Recovering or not wanting to be around giant robots when one had kidnapped me, being the main ones.’

I glanced at the box sat on my bed. With a sigh, I put down my drink and walked over to pick it up. I sat on my bed and debated with myself, once again, whether to open it or not. For the first time, curiosity won and I flicked the catch.

Lifting the lid I was confused to see a futuristic looking purple and gold/brown memory stick.

 -------------------Timeskip 2 days later-----------------

 I had held out 2 days before finally deciding to see what was on the memory stick. In the meantime I had been wearing it on a string around my neck, (I don’t know why…so don’t ask me why).

Sitting at my computer; I plugged it in and decided to view its contents.

A load of images and videos/recordings were on it; there were hours of footage. They were labelled so that each image was paired with a video or extract of sound.

I opened the first image; another of me. ‘Well that’s not creepy at all, is it’ I thought sarcastically. On the other hand, the footage proved to be quite different.  

The first paired piece was a voice recording, I pressed play;

“I saw that human today with the Autobot. I wonder how much Megatron will pay for an Autobot’s pet?” Swindle’s voice sounded from my computer.

‘If he wanted me to like him he’s going about it the wrong way.’

However, I decided to sit and watch everything; ‘only way to find out why he gave it to me after all.’

 ----------------------Timeskip--------------------

 I stayed up all night reviewing the contents on that memory stick. It had started out with Swindle acting like how you would expect Swindle to act. Deceitful, selfish, out to make a trade. However, the longer I had sat at that computer, the more flattering the pictures had gotten (less like photographing an item for ebay) and the less like a Decepticon Swindle had been acting. He started smiling more and talked less about deals and the profit he was going to make. By the end of it all, Swindle was practically making a video diary about how much he loves me.

In one of them, he spent an entire video discussing what sort of Valentine’s Day gift he would get me. In another, the pros and cons of asking me on a date in his

Holoform. One part stood out in particular, “I want to get to know them…what they like, dislike, whether they could ever…” Swindle trails of in the one video but I already knew he meant to say ‘love me back’.

The last video had even been a personal message to me; Swindle listed all his flaws and what he thought were his good points, then asked for my forgiveness and one chance.

It was both scary and…extraordinarily flattering.

But I had to admit, by the end of it all I had this warm, fuzzy feeling in my chest.

‘No I can’t…’

I closed down the folder and yanked the memory stick out. I looked at my clenched fist then stormed over to my window and yanked it open; prepared to fling the device out my open window. Only to freeze in shock at the sight of a familiar Humvee parked just across the road.

I ducked down below my window. Taking a deep breath I shot up and pulled my window shut, drew the blinds and rolled away from the window. Rib protesting only slightly.

Heart pounding I crawled out my study room; once out of view of the window, I leapt to my feet and fled downstairs. I crept up to a front window and peeked outside.

After about 6 seconds the Humvee suddenly roared to life and zipped off down the road. I stared after its retreating form for a further minute before deciding it wasn’t coming back.

“Maybe it wasn’t Swindle…Yeah, dream on (y/n).” I mumbled furiously, arguing with myself over whether to call Bee or not.

I eventually decided not to call the bot; ‘it would only worry him.’ Instead, I opted for putting the memory stick back on its string and carrying on as if I had never watched it.

‘Ha…good luck with that (y/n)!’

 ---------------Timeskip--------------------------

 I had been back to the base a couple of times. The Autobots and Sari were welcoming and, I must admit, it was nice to see them again. Bumblebee had been worrisome and clingy at first but he had calmed down now. He kept blaming himself for my kidnapping. ‘Poor bot.’

On the other hand, being back there felt…weird. Like something was missing. I hadn’t been spending as much time there as I used to.

On the plus side, I got my bandages removed for the final time yesterday.

When I had left the hospital, a suspicious looking Humvee had backed around a far corner; I had done my best to ignore it.

Right now I was cooking myself a little lunch of turkey salad and potato wedges (or whatever you want it to be). I set the timer and went to go watch a bit of TV before eating. Just as I sat down, my doorbell went off.

‘Is that Bee again?’

I quickly bounded to my front door; I opened it and then just as quickly slammed it shut again.

‘Oh gosh…Swindle’s outside!’

I ran a hand through my hair then opened the door again, albeit a little more tentatively; just my head peeking around the door.

There on my front porch stood Swindle’s Holoform, holding a huge bouquet of roses and a box of chocolates.

I opened the door wider and just stared at him in absolute confusion. “Uuuuuhhhhhhhhh?????”

His eyes glanced towards my chest and widened at the sight of the memory stick hanging around my neck.

I opened my mouth to speak when the ring of my timer went off. Both Swindle and I glanced back into my house.

“Um…here” and with that, he shoved the gifts into my arms and promptly fled towards his alt-mode.

I almost dropped the gifts but steadied myself. Almost unconsciously I wanted to call him back, the sound of screeching tyres prompting me to call out, “SWINDLE!”

But he was already gone.

I took an uncertain step backwards and slowly shut my door. I walked to my kitchen and placed the flowers and chocolates on the side. I turned off the oven and dished all my food onto a plate. I sat on the side and ate my lunch, all the while staring at the flowers Swindle had given me.

I had just finished washing up when my doorbell went off again.

I cautiously walked back to my front door and opened it to once again see Swindle on my doorstep. He was rocking back and forth on his feet before quickly straightening up on seeing me open the door.

“Well?”  I looked at the con expectantly, ‘honestly, I was growing tired of always worrying about his next move.’

He looked at me and gestured to the memory stick, “So you watched it.” It was more of a statement than a question and I knew it. My hand closed around the device and I nodded, almost sheepishly. Swindle nodded back then in one swift motion pulled me to him and kissed me. He drew back before I even knew what had happened.

His face a bright red and by the heat, I felt in my cheeks; I didn’t look any better. I frowned in confusion.

“That’s my…uh…goodbye, if you want me out of your life, I’ll be going now.” Swindle turned to leave, a crestfallen look on his face.

My hand shot out, grabbing his own in a tight grip.

“Swindle wait.”

Shock resonated in his eyes and I just smiled softly; whilst quickly releasing his wrist.

“Would you like to come inside…there are some things I think we need to talk about. About what’s on this”, I gestured to the memory stick, “and this”, I gestured between the both of us.

Swindle looked dumbstruck for a second before he straightened up. He ran a hand through his hair, threw me the most self-assured smile he could muster at that moment and nonchalantly replied, “whatever you say, sweetness.”

‘In all honesty, he looks like a total goof, sexy, but still a goof.’

I chuckled at his antics and stood to the side, gesturing the con inside.

He stepped, almost reverently, across my porch and I shut the door.

 ----------------------Timeskip-----------------------

 I was currently watching an action movie (or whatever you like) on TV with my boyfriend of 2 years, Swindle. The Autobots had been a bit alarmed when we told them, Bee, especially. ‘I’ll never forget his reaction’.

 (Flashback: 

I sat on Swindle’s shoulder plate, just outside the door of the Autobot base. It was about 3 months after he turned up on my doorstep and we had officially been going out for about two weeks. I pointed to the door and we entered. “Don’t look!” I told Swindle when I input the code to turn off the alarms. We headed further into the base and I heard Sari cheering in the background. We turned the corner and I glanced sideways to see Swindle grimacing, breaking into the cybertronian version of a cold sweat. I placed a hand on his cheek plate. “Relax.” He smiled but otherwise remained silent. He glanced forward again and his eyes widened. I looked forward again and was not surprised to see all the Autobots staring at us, weapons drawn and ready for battle. Bumblebee was the only one not in a battle stance; he was just staring at me in shock.

A tinge of guilt ran through me and I couldn’t meet his optics. Instead, I opted to look at Optimus instead. “Um…Optimus, we were wondering if we could talk to you.”

Swindle pitched in, “Please.”

I think it was that which shocked them even more than the fact that I was currently riding on a Decepticon’s shoulder; the fact that said Decepticon said please.

Ratchet walked into the Medbay and Optimus gestured us in after him. ‘Guess Ratchet wants to hear this too huh.’

Just as we were about to go through the door, Optimus stopped Swindle. “(Y/n) I would prefer it if you waited out here, we’d like to talk to Swindle alone.” Apprehension filled me but Swindle raised a servo to lower me to the ground.

“Don’t worry…I’ll be alright love.” I nodded and sent him a last encouraging smile before watching his spinal struts disappear through the door. Optimus following after.

I walked silently to the sofa and perched on the edge. The silence behind me means one thing. I sighed and turned around. Sari was glaring at me and Bumblebee was still staring at me. He seemed to gather himself a moment.

“(Y/n)…why did you bring…him, to the base?” I looked up at the yellow bot.

“Because…he’s my boyfriend.” Bumblebee froze, “come again.” I grew tired and huffed irritably. “You heard me.”

I swear I saw sparks fly from his helm before he suddenly shot up. Much to the surprise of all present. His optics narrowed and suddenly morphed to a startling shade of scarlet. “I’ll kill him”’ Prowl took the initiative and grabbed him before he could run into the Medbay. Bulkhead joined him and together they restrained the violently thrashing bot.

“Bumblebee…calm yourself.” Prowl’s ever wise advice. After a moment, his eyes returned to normal and he stopped thrashing. “I’m fine.” He shrugged out of their hold and stalked off to his berthroom.

I slumped and sighed when Sari’s voice piped up beside me. “It’s not fair to Bee you know…but, if he makes you happy.” And with those words, she sprinted out the room after Bumblebee. I waited in tense silence. Prowl stood in a corner, head bowed, watching the door to the Medbay.

After about half an hour, the door opened and out walked a grumbling Ratchet, a thoughtful Optimus and a beaming Swindle. He saw me and, if that was possible, smiled even wider. He bounced over, ‘not very Decepticon like’, and scooped me up. He cradled me to his chassis lovingly, “I can stay!” I smiled back in response to my love’s own overflowing joy. However, he froze when he caught sight of Bumblebee walking back into the room. He approached us and I saw Prowl shift almost imperceptibly; ready to leap forward if necessary.

He stopped in front of Swindle and addressed me, “(y/n) I’m sorry for earlier…but if it makes you happy, then I’m happy.” I smiled sadly at him, “Thank you Bee.”

He then looked up into Swindle’s optics and addressed him, “but if you ever hurt (her/him)…”

“I won’t!” Swindle cut in. They stared at each other in a silent standoff, before Bumblebee gave him a sad smile, “Look after (y/n).”

He then turned his back on us, “Sari…I don’t feel like a rematch…how about a drive instead?”

I watched him go, Sari sending me one last look before I leaned into Swindle’s chassis; feeling both sad for Bumblebee but also grateful for my boyfriend’s existence. Optimus then looked at us both sternly. “You still have to prove yourself, Swindle.”

“Don’t worry Optimus…I will.” Flashback end)

 They all learnt to trust him after he proved he had no sinister plot for me. He became an “honest” business bot and dropped all dealings with the Decepticons. He’d removed his Decepticon brand but he hadn’t gone so far as to get an Autobot one yet.

Peace had finally settled between the two factions; “not good for business but good for us” as Swindle would frequently say.

Next week was Valentine’s Day and he had promised me a special surprise, as well as a trip to Cybertron. I couldn’t wait.

 ----------------------Timeskip to Valentine’s Day-------------------------

 Today had been amazing. I’d spent the day riding around on Swindle’s shoulder, seeing the sights of Cybertron. He had made a quick drop into his new business branch; Swindle Co. ‘I fragging laughed so hard when I heard that name I don’t know why…I just found it hilarious.’

Finally, we went back to his ship and set a course for Earth. We made the jump through a space bridge and Swindle set the autopilot to orbit the Earth. I looked at him in confusion, until he carried me over to a window. I looked in awe at the blue jewel beneath us.

Just when I thought the day couldn’t get any better, Swindle abruptly transformed around me. I landed in the passenger seat and his Holoform appeared in the driver’s seat. Violet eyes sparkling and hair in disarray.

“Swindle how many times are you going to surprise me with that?”

He chuckled then gestured to the dash as it opened to reveal a small black velvet box.

I picked it up, while Swindle desperately tried to fix his hair.

I giggled, “Now doesn’t this seem familiar.”

He smiled and said, “Open it.”

Curiously I flicked the catch and lifted the lid; I almost dropped the box in shock.

On a small velvet bed lay a gold ring, inlaid with black diamond around an amethyst.

Shock ran through my core as Swindle took one of my hands in his.

“(Y/n) you are the love of my life, will you be my Sparkmate and…marry me?”

The answer was obvious.

.

.

.

“YES!”

.

.

.

-------------------extra------------------

.

.

.

Blue optics reflected the light of the sun as the yellow mech sat outside the Autobot base. He sighed and watched a certain human and former Decepticon go running out of the base; him transforming and her getting in before the pair zoomed off.

“Stay happy (y/n).” The mumbled words finally leaving his lip-plates, along with a feeling of relief.

He got up and walked inside, no longer feeling the urge to watch the human. He walked into the main room and a certain techno-organic looked over and smiled, “Hey Bee, wanna play a video game!”

The young girl’s shining eyes meeting his optics and a surge of happiness ran through him at the sight of his friend. “Of course…Sari!”

     Bumblebee ending:

I stared at the box and went over what it could possibly be in my head. I snapped out of my reverie when a feeling of great sorrow, not mine, washed over me and I saw the compartment beginning to close. I considered taking it, but then an image of Bumblebee swept through my mind; without my own conscious though Bee’s name whispered from my lips. ‘Why did he…?’ I watched the compartment close and guiltily stared at the dash.

That sorrowful feeling intensified but it was mixed with…something else.

I sat, tense and silent in the passenger seat of Swindle’s alt-mode. Eventually, Swindle slowed.

I looked out the window to see us slowing and coming to a stop in…the junkyard. ‘How fitting.’

Bumblebee stood rigid in front of us and Swindle’s transformed. I fell into his servo and had just a second to adjust before his digits held me up.

The sound of Bee’s stingers powering up reached my ears. “Give (her/him) back Swindle!’

Swindle closed his optics and exvented heavily. Small unstable chuckles began to emit from his liplates and both Bee and I stared at the con in shock and borderline fear.

“You know what Autobot…I actually loved (y/n)”, the cons eyes opened to reveal that they were no longer their usual shade of violet, but instead a terrifying shade blood red, “but you took that from me.”

Bee took a hesitant step back in shock but then charged when Swindle's grip tightened around my human form; holding me immobile.

Swindle sidestepped and kicked the bot down.

“If I can’t have (y/n)…you won’t either!”

I whimpered in pain as Swindle’s servo began to close around my body. My arm and ribs cracking and flaring up. Black spots danced in front of my eyes as I struggled to get oxygen. It didn’t stop me catching the small look of guilt on Swindle’s faceplate and the small swirl of violet returning to his optics. Only for me to suddenly be released and go soaring through the air; Bumblebee had employed a roundhouse kick, taking Swindle’s legs out from under him and sending me flying. I enjoyed a brief moment of weightlessness before gravity once again took hold.

Both pain and relief flooded my body as two yellow servos snatched me from the air. The world tumbled and rolled as Bumblebee flipped away from Swindle. Finally, the world settled and I found myself on Bee’s left servo while his right was in stinger mode and pointed at Swindle.

Swindle picked himself up of the ground and looked dead at Bee with hatred in his optics. However, this actually vanished completely, when I promptly collapsed in Bee’s servo. I looked down at my side to see blood and lots of it.

Swindle’s optics fully returned to their violet colour and he gave a gasping sob. He just managed to choke out, “I’m so sorry (y/n)”, before transforming and zooming off.

The light dimmed on the edges of my vision, as the last thing I saw were Bumblebee’s concerned optics.

“Don’t worry (y/n)…I’ll get you to Ratchet…hold…on…”

My world faded to black.

 ----------------------------Timeskip-------------------------------

 #Beep…Beep…Beep#

I awoke; harsh, white light flooding my vision. I winced. The beeping in the background sped up marginally before settling again. As my eyes adjusted I started to get my bearing. I was obviously in some sort of hospital; the white light and decor, smell of antiseptic and medical equipment said it all, ‘especially the IV in my arm’.

I tried to move my arm only to have a small tinge of pain flash through me. I looked at my body to see my middle wrapped in bandages and a cast on my other arm. After analysing the damage to my body, I had another look around my room.  

There was someone else in the room with me. In a corner, asleep on a chair was a human around my age. He had chocolate brown skin and shockingly bright, spiky blond hair. He was wearing a black t-shirt, yellow trousers with black stripes down the side, a yellow and black jacket, black fingerless gloves and what looked like yellow and black skateboarding elbow and knee pads. Yellow goggles with black accents sat on top of his head, nestling among his blonde tresses. He was sat on the chair so that his head rested on his folded arms. Every so often he would give a little huff or these super cute little mini-snores. ‘Awwwww…wow (y/n) there’s a stranger in your room and the first thing you think is awwww.’

My head jerked up to the sound of the door opening. In walked a worried looking nurse, only for her face to break into a beaming smile.

“You’re finally awake!” She walked over and checked the screen on the machine next to me. “Looking good” She then addressed me directly, “Well honey, you’ve been in a coma for the past 12 days, your boyfriend over there brought you in and he hasn’t left your side since.” She gestured towards the sleeping male and I was too stunned by the news that I had been in a coma, to even try to correct her on the fact that I didn’t know him. “You’ll have to stay here till Friday while we check you for any lasting damage but I’m sure you’ll be discharged just fine.’

By the time I had gathered my senses and opened my mouth to speak, she had already left. I stared at the closed door in bewilderment before turning to the sleeping male; who was waking up. He gave a small groan, stretched then opened his eyes to reveal, practically glowing, bright blue eyes.

He stared dumbfounded at me for a second, before leaping to his feet with a broad grin on his face. I jerked back in shock as he rushed over and engulfed me in a careful, hug. “(Y/n) you’re awake!”

I froze, ‘that sounded like…’

I disengaged myself from the male, “Bumblebee?”

He nodded vigorously, grinning the whole time. “Yep…this is my Holoform.”

He then turned deadly serious, “I was so scared when Swindle took you if you died...I would have found that con and ripped him apart till no one would even recognise the pile of scrap that was left.” His eyes flashed a dark scarlet when he said that last part.

‘Okay…officially freaking out inside about the eye colour thing.’

Then Bee’s face turned sorrowful, optics returning to normal. “And then do you know what I would do (y/n)?” I looked at him in confusion, “I would go offline.”

“WHAT! WHY?”

He looked at me, blue orbs boring a hole straight into my soul. “Because I never want to be without you, you make me feel…happy.” Then he grinned mischievously, “and you still owe me a date.”

I threw him an ‘are you kidding me’ look and he laughed. Eventually I joined in with his chuckles and he started ecstatically catching me up on all the latest Autobot news.

-----------------------Timeskip-------------------

 It had been a couple days since I had finally gotten my cast and bandages off. I was currently sitting on the sofa in the Autobot base with Sari fussing over me with a comb.

“Honestly Sari stop!” I was trying to escape the overexcited girl and her comb of doom.

“If you’re going on a date with Bumblebee you have to look perfect!”

I leapt the sofa and seeing my chance ran past a bemused Prowl calling out a loud, “Help me!”

I stopped fleeing in relief when I heard the annoyed whines of Sari as Prowl picked her up and trapped her in his two servos. I threw him a thumbs up and sprinted out the base to go meet Bee.

‘Yes…I had made sorta-friends with the ever stoic Prowl.’

I walked outside into dazzling sunshine to see Bumblebee’s alt mode parked up just beyond the door. His passenger side door opened and I climbed in.

“Get ready to have some serious fun!” Bee excitedly called before zipping off down the road.

‘Of course, Bee took me to an arcade.’ We played everything from Pacman to shoot-em-up games; we were there till 6 before bee told me he had something else for me and dragged me back to his alt-mode. He took me to a restaurant.

As we walked inside I looked around I awe at the fancy décor and the huge crystal chandelier hanging high above us. When I turned back to Bee I was pleasantly surprised to see his Holoform’s clothes had changed from his usual attire to a black and yellow tuxedo.

I chuckled but the confusion was evident in my voice when I asked, “Bee?”

He didn’t respond and instead said something to the maître-de. We were led up a grand staircase and round many tables of the restaurant until we were led out onto a balcony. A table set for two was the centrepiece of the open space, offset with two pedestals covered in roses.

The maître-de left us both alone and I leaned against the balcony railing; Bee joining my side.

“Bee this is incredible, I never knew you could pull off being a gentleman.”

Bumblebee laughed at that and took one of my hands in his. “(Y/n), will you go out with me…be, as you humans say…my (boyfriend/girlfriend)?”

I was once again rendered mute by shock, ‘he was serious before!’ A warm feeling spread throughout my chests and my heart started racing at about 100 miles per second. Struggling to find my voice I decided to answer with my actions. I leaned forward and swiftly kissed Bumblebee. He melted into my touch and when we pulled away I could see, and feel, that we were both blushing heavily.

“Yes, Bee…I would.”

The young Autobot began grinning like a love-struck fool and I chuckled and gently guided him to sit down. No sooner had we both sat down then a waiter appeared, seemingly from nowhere; “Here are the menus.” He disappeared as quickly as he came.

I opened my menu and sneaked a glance at Bumblebee who was staring at his menu, confusion evident on his face.

“Do you want me to help you choose?”

 -----------------------Timeskip--------------------

 I was currently lying on top of my boyfriend of 2 years. Bumblebee was asleep in his berth room and I was dangling a feather over his faceplate. ‘Prowl had helped me get on top of his berth. Every so often he would mumble, twitch or try to escape the ticklish menace.

“He’s so cute it’s hilarious.”

“Cute am I.” I looked into his now open optics. A blush forming on my face.

‘Shoot…did I say that out loud?’

“I think you’re pretty cute too.” I nuzzled into Bee’s chassis and he placed a servo over my small form. All of a sudden he shifted and I had a two-second warning before I was flung in the air. He transformed around me and I landed on the soft seats of Bee’s alt-mode.

“Hey (y/n)?”

I looked at his newly appeared Holoform in the driver’s seat, frowning with slight annoyance at being tossed in the air like a ragdoll, “Yes Bumbleb…” I froze. My frown dropped. He was holding up a silver and gold plated ring with a yellow garnet offset by black diamonds set in it. Love was plainly shown in his eyes.

“What would you say to…marrying me?”

An enormous smile spread over my face. My answer was the same as the first time he asked me out.

.

.

.

“YES, Bumblebee…yes!”

.

.

.

-------------------extra------------------

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

A small black velvet box rested in the shaking servos of a weeping mech. In the darkness, the vivid violet of their optics faded in time with the cracking of their spark. Smears of rusts and energon marred their once bright purple and gold/brown finish. They didn’t know how long they had stayed this way…ignoring the outside world and letting events replay in their processor; like a waking nightmare.

Shuddering gasps left their prone body until with a sharp intake, they were still. Their optics closed and they remained immobile. Until…with a sudden motion, they clenched their servo, crushing the box and its contents. Insane laughter left their liplates as their optics opened to reveal a brilliant scarlet, all traces of the former mech…gone.

“I’ll destroy you…Bumblebee!”

    Author note:

So I hope you enjoyed this. I apologise now if characters are a bit OOC…it’s been a while since I watched any TFA.

The inspiration for the extra Swindle bit at the end of Bumblebee’s ending came from a harry potter fan quote. → Voldemort taught me, ‘that a life without love, isn’t a life worth living.’

[rainbowserenity]

On Friday, I got to go to the KH pop-up experience at Disney Springs!!! It was basically just a big room of merch and the demos and stuff, but I got to sit by a giant mural of the cover art so day made A++++ I also got pics of like EVERYTHING there, which is under the cut if you wanna see :D I got to play both demos (there was one for Olympus and one for Toy Story) and have a bunch of thoughts, but I’ll put that towards the bottom in case anybody’s avoiding minor spoilers (although I think these are the same demos they’ve been showing at a bunch of conventions so this might be ~common knowledge~ IDK I’M JUST TRYING TO BE CAREFUL)

I saw the sign pretty much immediately and was like LEMME IN OMG ALKSJF;LIWJE;FLIWJEF

THEY TEASE YOU WITH THE MURAL LIKE HEY LOOK AT ME IT’S AWESOME

I know everybody’s already seen it but YEAH JUST LOOK AT IT

I ran in there and took a bunch of selfies next to Aqua and the cast members were looking at me like I was crazy :(

BUT WHO CARES :D

and here’s the Destiny Trio looking fabulous as usual~*~

they also had these renders covering a wall, so naturally....

had to struggled to take a pic with Reekers~*~*~ (seriously, the cast members were staring at me like I was the only person to take selfies against the banners.....although judging from how many people wandered into the place asking, “What is this? A video game? Is it free?????” maybe they see it less often than I want to think lmao)

This area led to the demo area!!!

those screens played the trailers on a constant loop (and Dearly Beloved was playing in the background ;; it was a little hard to hear cause of the noise but STILL, THE FEEEEEEEEEEEELS)

better look at these signs~ I think it’s kinda funny that Sora/Donald/Goofy were only included on the posters if they had new looks lmao

Took this for @tensai-shoujo ;D They had an Olympus poster next to it, you could only see them when you were walking towards the demo area

HELL YEEEEEEAHHHHH

I like that they had those banners/murals/whatever up everywhere, as opposed to just setting up a bunch of screens lol IDK IT JUST MADE IT FEEL MORE SPECIAL

I just really liked that Sora art~*~

another view.......kinda wished I could’ve yoinked one of those banners lmao

BUT LIKE I SAID I played both demos and before I get into my thoughts on them, I shall show off the merch and stuff :D

WAIT FIRST THE KEYBLADES WHICH WERE LIKE....AS LIFE-SIZED AS THEY COULD BE I GUESS ALSKDJF;LIWEFJ I had to physically restrain myself from completely freaking out (y’know, besides the usual)

I feel like I should know what the second one is...?????? I though it was Starseeker at first glance, but it’s not so idr if it’s a new one......obviously the last one is the Toy Story one lol

They had a kiosk under here where you could preorder the game, but I was mostly just all THIS ART IS SO BEAUTIFUL AND SOON WE WILL SEE IT ON OUR SCREENS AS WE PLAY TT__________TT

and now for the merch!

the top shelf was the deluxe edition of the ACTUAL GAME, and even looking at the real case and stuff, it still doesn’t even seem real......like we’ve been waiting for 12 years, is ANY OF THIS FOR REAL OR NOT??? I kinda wanted those figures on the bottom and hey, there’s that one keyblade!!!

in case you can’t read the signs, the top shelf is a preorder bonus from ordering it from the kiosk....I kinda liked that lanyard lolol. the bottom shelf is bunch of awesome standees I vaguely recall seeing in the Squenix store (I’m not really up on all the merch lol I avoid looking at it too often cause it makes me WAAAANT it and I am poor, so I just don’t want to torture myself)

ngl I kinda want this......REEKERS MY LOVE.............

NEVER MIND I WANT THIS MORE LOL I’ve been wanting the Aqua play arts for so long, why do they have to be so expensive now?!? at least I got to see it in person lmao I SHALL TREASURE THE MEMORY FOREVER~

the KH3 Sora play arts~ THERE’S THAT KEYBLADE AGAIN WTF it must be a new one???

I had no idea there was a Roxas play arts??? or is this even released yet??? like I said, I’m not really up on merch news lol I guess his head must be interchangeable since you can have his hood on and pretend he’s super angsty about missing Axel and stuff

I’ve always thought these were kinda cute in a stupid way lmao

and I’ll unceremoniously end the images with lovely keychains and jewelry :D

Those are all the pics! now I’ll babble about the demos and my experience with the battle system, so stop here if you don’t want to know for whatever reason~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Like I said earlier, I got to play both demos! It was slow enough in there that I just moseyed back in through the line and I could feel the silent eyes of the cast members judging me 8))))))

I played the Toy Story one first cause duh, and I think it dumps you into the beginning of the world since poor Sora was all WTF WHY DO WE LOOK LIKE THIS??? And I started laughing when the “I’m Sora/Donald/Goofy” line came when they were introducing themselves, cause some things never change ;P

it took me a minute to get used to the buttons (especially since you obviously couldn’t customize anything but the camera directions) and I kept accidentally using Shotlock and stuff LOL. BUUUUUT it was really fun once I got a sense of what I was doing! it was very smooth and fast and fun~

to me, battling feels like a combination of KH2, Birth by Sleep, and Dream Drop Distance. the coolest thing was that you could do a command (like Thundaga), and a reaction command would pop up. If you kept doing it, you could chain them together into one big ol’ massive attack - in my case, it was summoning the Mad Tea Cups!!! I GOT TO KILL HEARTLESS WITH A DISNEY RIDE LOL

what was also really fun was that you can switch Keyblades mid-battle!!! I had no idea what they all did, but I’m sure in the actual game they have different abilities like they do in most of the games. now you don’t have to choose just one mwhahaha~

towards the end of the Toy Story demo, you had to fight against an evil toy and got to drive around a robot and shoot lasers! PEW PEW PEW

one thing I really liked was how SMOOTH the animation was. idk if I just read a lot into it, but Sora’s always felt kinda.....clunky when he runs? maybe it’s his big feet lmao but in this demo, he felt MUUUUCH easier to handle. talking to other characters didn’t bring you into another screen, either, you just turned them and talked in real time. IT’S PRETTY GREAT

The Olympus demo felt shorter, probably because it was mostly a boss battle, but the coolest thing is that YOU CAN RUN UP WALLS HOLY CRAAAAAAP!!! I think they’ve showed this in trailers so I shouldn’t have been so surprised, but it was awesome :D

they had different magic options, and this time I managed to SUMMON A GIANT TRAIN HELL YEEEEEAHHHH~ I also managed to get some kind of Goofy limit and he destroyed a bunch of Heartless instantly, so that’s why Goofy rules okay

since I had a little more of grasp on the buttons and stuff, defeating the Titan was sorta easy 8D;; I’m sure they gave you stronger magic/abilities/Keyblades in these demos so it’ll probably be more difficult in the actual game - however, they didn’t really have any tutorial in the demo. They basically had a screen telling you how to run up walls and that was it.....and yet, the reaction commands and new battle system were easy to grasp (especially if you’re a seasoned player lol). I mean, yeah, a lot of it was just mashing the triangle button, but there’s also a certain finesse to chaining them together so that’ll be fun to discover~

The demos made me EVEN MORE HYPED FOR THE GAME THAN EVER!!!!!!! and even though we don’t have too long to wait, IT’S STILL GONNA TAKE FOREVER ALKSDJF;LWIEJF;LWIEJFWE I CAN’T WAIT TO PLAY IT AND I FEEL LIKE WE’RE ALL GONNA LOVE IT!!!!!!!

IS IT THE 29TH YET AHHHHHHHHHHHH

....if you made it this far down, thanks for reading 8D I feel like I’m back in 2007 making a LiveJournal post, with what all the images and captions and babbling lmao

[myfriendscallmegoose]

Tea and Big Cats

Hey all! Here is my first piece of writing for 2019! I want to try and do better than I did last year and post more frequently, but who knows how that will turn out? Anyway, have this thing I wrote up based on yet another @dappermouth post, because I just can’t get enough of her art and it never fails to inspire some weird stories. This story is dedicated of course to dappermouth, but also to Alicia and Serenity for leaving such fun replies on my other stuff and making me laugh!

Word count: 1286

It was dark in the house. The sun had long ago set and the only light came from the young woman's phone screen as she made her way through the large building. She was beginning to regret offering to house-sit in a mansion. This place was too big and way too haunted for her tastes. But still, she tried to keep a good attitude about it. At least she had this big building all to herself.

Large couches, soft bed sheets, and pillows so big you could drown in them. A television screen the size of her entire body. It was outrageous.

She didn't even use any of that.

Vanessa preferred smaller places. Tight corridors, cubby holes go hide in and curl up with a book. There was only one part of the building that suited those purposes and that's where she had chosen to spend her time. Building a little fort out of the massive pillows and spending her nights there beneath a heavy blanket, her cup of tea slowly going cold when she would inevitably fall asleep half way through her book, leaving both it and the tea unfinished.

But that was yesterday. Tonight was different. She had emptied the tea cup. That was unusual, probably not a good sign. Something was keeping her awake and so she had decided to investigate.

Using only her phone screen to light the way, she grumbled to herself about getting a better phone, one with a torch, as she made her way down the stairs from her little cubby hole, to the kitchen. She might as well investigate another cup of tea first, maybe that would help her sleep.

About halfway down the stairs she felt something soft and moist beneath her bare feet. Pointing the light of the phone down at the ground she saw a dark, moss-like growth that seemed to be growing from the wooden stairs. Vanessa shook her head. That was just her tired brain making her feel weird things. When she looked back down the moss was gone and she continued on down the stairs. She didn’t notice the vines growing along the wall behind her.

The kitchen was dark and she didn’t both switching on the light, tucking her phone away and navigating by the light of the microwave timer, she fumbled across the kitchen counter for a moment before her hands wrapped around the handle of the electric kettle, weighing it to see if there would be enough water to boil, before flicking the little switch at the base, turning it on. A soft, red glow came from the base of the kettle as the water slowly boiled.

Then she heard footsteps behind her.

Raising her phone again to shine its light across the kitchen, Vanessa looked around, frightened. She saw nothing. It must have been something else, not footsteps, she told herself. She hoped.

Then it came again. Soft, padded footsteps, moving behind her. Not coming towards her, just walking up and down the length of the halls. They weren’t human either, they belonged to something heavier, and with more legs apparently.

Vanessa tried her best to ignore it, turning away she reached into the cupboard to grab herself another tea cup. She silently cursed herself for not bringing her first one down with her, but this was a more preferable option than going back upstairs to be honest. Deep down she didn’t want to encounter whatever owned those footsteps.

The kettle made a sudden ‘ding’ sound to signify it was done. Vanessa jumped in fright and would have dropped her cup if she wasn’t already gripping it tightly out of fear of the footsteps. She sighed at her own silliness and placed a teabag in her cup, before pouring the hot water into it, giving it a few seconds before picking up the cup. It was ice cold. She could feel the heat rising from the boiled water within, but the cup felt like she had just pulled it from the depths of an ice box. The young woman shivered, before turning and pulling out her phone. She knew she had to return back up the stairs eventually, and she was trying her best to ignore the mish-mash of sensations she was feeling, cold cup, hot water, moss covered wood. All the constructs of a sleep-deprived mind, she told herself.

Vanessa was an expert and convincing herself of things that weren’t true.

She made her way back through the kitchen and eventually came to the foot of the stairs again, looking up she shone her phone light towards the top. Sitting at the top of the stairs was a leopard. Its eyes shone white, reflecting the light of her phone screen, and the floor beneath it was covered in moss and grass, slowly growing as she watched it.

    “Oh,” she said. “It’s you.”

The leopard nodded, apparently understanding her. Vanessa hadn’t realised how frightened her expression looked until she changed it to a weak smile.

    “You had me scared for a moment there.” She continued speaking.

No verbal response from the leopard, it merely tipped its head to the side, looking at her quizzically. It was then Vanessa noticed it wasn’t breathing. There was no movement aside from the head and, Vanessa now noticed, the soft swaying of its tail in the darkness behind it.

Then the leopard spoke.

It is common knowledge that leopards do not traditionally speak in human tongues. And this one was no different. It didn’t speak, the mouth didn’t move. The leopard projected words into her mind.

    “Would you like to see her again?” It asked, voice high-pitched and sounding almost strained when she heard it in her head.

    Vanessa sighed.

        “I would. Very much.”

The leopard got to its feet from the sitting position and it gestured with its head down the corridor that the stairs lead up too.

    “Come.” It said.

    “No.” Vanessa replied. “Not yet.

The tail stopped swaying.

    “Your contract-”

    “Not yet, I said.” The woman repeated, interrupting the thing that she knew was most definitely not a leopard.

The thing that stood atop the stairs took a step towards her down the stairs, vines and moss growing beneath its feet as it moved.

    “Not yet doesn’t mean never.” Vanessa clarified, almost wincing in fright as it moved in.

It stopped its approach.

    “Can I come up the stairs?” She continued. “I’d like to get some sleep.”

The thing nodded, and walked back up the stairs, disappearing into the shadows except for its bright, reflective eyes. Vanessa cautiously stepped up with one foot, then another, slowly making her way up the stairs to the top, not looking down as she walked right through the ghostly apparition of the leopard that stood in the shadows beneath her.

    “I will return.” The voice came into her head again, but when she turned back to face it, the apparition was gone, and so was all the plant life that had sprouted beneath it.

She shrugged and made her way through the dark corridor again back to her pillow fort. She could feel the cup warming in her hand the further away she got from that stairway. Eventually she settled down in her fort and drank the cup of tea.

The next morning she woke to find half of a cup left, gone cold from being left out while she fell asleep peacefully. Vanessa picked up the two cups at her side and made her way back down to the kitchen, emptying them and rinsing them out before putting them away in the dishwasher.

By day the stairway was empty of leopard-like apparitions. But after sunset, padded footsteps softly pace down every hall.

[floatingpetals]

Python || Shifter Series

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Shifter!Reader

Warnings: ANGST, butt-face Bucky, Language and did I mention Angst?

Word Count: 2200+

Summary: Bucky wasn’t sure what to make of the newest recruit. What he thought was the new team pet was really a shifter in disguise. He learns she’s not afraid of much, whether it’s himself, or walking around all natural. Having the unique ability to change into several different kinds of animals makes her a bit more in tune to her animal instincts as well. Things are hardly ever dull anymore with her around.

A/N: It snowed for the first time in don’t know how many years where I lived two days ago, and people are still loosing their mind. I’ve been holed up at home and got a bunch of writing down. I’ve also started a bullet journal, so we’ll see how long that lasts. When I started this part, I wasn’t going to take it in the direction it went, but sometimes things just happen. I hope you guys enjoy this part! Don’t shoot me please. I’m also sorry if anyone’s freaked out by snakes, but don’t worry it’s really not a super detailed part of the story. Enjoy guys!

The gifs are not mine, credit to the wonderful owner!

Golden Retriever | Python | Panther | Series Masterlist

“Fuck. Off.”

“Make me, Barnes.”

Bucky let out a shuddering sigh, a growl bubbling in his chest. He clenched his jaw and glared at Sam over his shoulder. He all but slammed down his coffee mug on the kitchen counter as he turned back to the coffee pot. Sam’s eyes narrowed at Bucky’s dismissal.

“I asked you a question.” Sam bit out, leaning his elbows onto the bar top between them. Bucky’s shoulders tensing was the only indication that he heard Sam, but he continued making his cup of coffee. “Yo. Barnes. Answer the question.”

“Shut up!” Bucky snapped, spinning around to snarl in Sam’s face. His patience had run out, and he was getting sick of how rude Sam had been over the past week. Sam didn’t even flinch, his own rage bubbling in his chest as he stared down Bucky. Bucky’s chest heaved while he tried to keep from launching himself across the bar top and wrap his hands around Sam’s neck. He was seconds away from following through when Sam’s mouth popped open. A throat cleared behind them.

“What is going on here?” Steve stood in the entrance of the kitchen with a worried Y/N by his side. Both were still in their training attire, towels in hand. Y/N looked between the two soldiers, chewing on her lower lip. The tension was heavy in the air, the negative energy practically electric. It made her skin itch uncomfortably.

Bucky growled and turned around to scoop up his mug. He didn’t offer any response to Steve as he quickly exited the room, however not before hissing a ‘fuck you’ to Sam. Y/N gasped at his harsh tone, and took off after him. Sam kept staring at the cabinets in front of him, ignoring Steve when he settled beside him on a barstool. He could feel the disappointment radiating off Steve. He didn’t need to look to see Steve’s mouth pulled into a thin disapproving line.

“Just don’t,” Sam mumbled. Steve raised a brow.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.” Sam snapped. He walked around to grab his own coffee mug to fill, fuming as he went about the kitchen. Steve watched as he drank it straight, his silence growing more oppressive as the seconds ticked on. It didn’t take long for Sam to snap under the mounting pressure.

“Alright, what?!”

Steve smirked and leaned against the counter, his blue eyes boring into Sam. He wasn’t going to be leaving the room anytime soon, not until Steve got exactly what he was looking for.

“You’ve been an absolute ass to Bucky this entire week. What is going on?” He started, motioning in the direction Bucky and Y/N retreated in. “And what was that all about?”

Sighing into his mug, Sam gave in. “I asked Bucky what Y/N was to him. Apparently, that rubbed him the wrong way, and we got the tantrum you just saw.”

“I don’t understand.” Steve was confused. Why would Bucky get upset over a simple question? “Why is he so upset?”

“That’s what I want to know.” Sam shrugged. “He’s been dodging the question all week, and I’m getting sick of it. It’s not hard. What is she to him? We all know they’re each other’s world. Hell, you can be blind, deaf, and stupid and still see how much the two love each other. Just last week I overheard Y/N talking with Natasha and Wanda about him. She idolizes him. I also know how hard it is for Bucky to admit his feelings. And I don’t want Y/N to get hurt.”

Steve sat with a worried frown, his brain racing to piece together the puzzle. Sam wasn’t wrong. Everyone knew how much Bucky and Y/N cared for each other. They’ve been glued at the hip since day one and wasn’t until a week ago that Bucky started to distance himself from Y/N. No one thought anything of it though, Natasha and Wanda swooped in to take up her time and it seemed completely natural. Bucky had always want Y/N to bond with the girls, and everyone figured that’s what was happening. Steve never thought there would be another motive.

“Hang on-.”

“Yup.” Sam nodded and interrupted Steve. He saw Steve’s wheels turning. “About a week ago, Bucky started pulling away. I want to know why. Instead, I get hissed at and told to go to hell.” He rolled his eyes and finished off his cup of coffee. “I just want to know what the hell happened.”

Sam set his cup in the sink before he stepped around the bar top. The realization had dawned on Steve, and now he was getting concerned too. If what Sam said was right, and he had no reason to doubt him, something happened a week ago to Bucky. He let out a long breath, pushing his seatback. He needed to go hunt him down himself and get some of his own answers. Clapping a hand on Sam’s shoulder, Steve went down the hall Bucky disappeared down with Sam following close behind. Steve might not agree with Sam’s methods, but he knew he had good intentions.

It didn’t take them long to find Bucky, he had nestled himself into the loveseat in front of the TV, staring blankly at the screen. Steve paused, glancing around, and frowned when he noticed the lack of another.

“Hey, Buck. Where’s Y/N?”

Bucky shrugged, his eyes never leaving the TV. Steve felt a grumble grow in his chest, and his fist clenching from frustration. Sam, however, had no qualms of stepping up.

“Where’s Y/N?” His demanding tone caused Bucky to tense, glaring at him out of the corner of his eye. Bucky grit his teeth and he clenched his fist, the rage returning with full force.

“Come on, pal. We’re just worried.” Steve tried to soothe, keeping the calm as best he could. Bucky snarled and jabbed a finger in Sam’s direction.

“I refuse to discuss anything with him!”

Steve was taken aback. Sam rolled his eyes at Bucky’s growl and looked back to Steve. He wasn’t really in a mood to deal with Bucky either, and if him leaving meant they’d get answers then so be it. Steve jerked his head to the door, signaling Sam to leave. Sam gave Bucky one final withering glare before retreating to his room, fuming as he walked to the elevators.

“Look, Buck. I know he comes off rude but he really does care.” Steve explained and moved to sit beside him on the couch. “All he wanted to know was what Y/N meant to you. He’s worried about her. He sees you pulling away, and doesn’t want to see either of you get hurt. So what’s going on?”

Bucky didn’t speak at first, his jaw clenching as he considered his options. He could get up and leave, but then Steve would only follow behind him and nag him until he spoke. Or he could just give in. Having decided on the former, Bucky quickly stood and strode out of the room. Steve’s head rolled back with an aggravated sigh, but just as Bucky predicted, he jumped up to follow.

“Bucky.” He scolded. Bucky ignored him and mashed the elevator button. Steve knew it was pointless to badger him with words, so instead, he opted to stand close and staring him down with his disapproving scowl. The elevator ride was awkward and tense, Bucky slowly feeling the effect from the glare. He was strong though, at least that’s what he kept telling himself. He had to chant it in his head to keep from cracking, feeling Steve’s breath on the back of his neck. When they left the small box, Steve was a step behind. Silent and foreboding. Bucky didn’t let his discomfort show outwardly, nevertheless Steve saw past it. He was his best friend after all. He knew he was seconds away from winning, Bucky was starting to sweat. However, a loud squeal resounded through the halls.

Bucky and Steve paused, turning in the direction of the squeal. Another loud higher pitch scream got the two moving towards the door, stopping at the entrance of the room.

Sam had climbed up on top of his dresser and was kicking a leg towards his bed, all while screaming words of obscenities in its direction. His head whipped to the door when Steve stifled a laugh behind his hand. His eyes locked on to Bucky, who was looking rather amused to have caught Sam in such a predicament.

“Barnes! Come get your girl!” He hollered. A low hiss from under the bed caused him to jump, another unattractive squeal escaping Sam’s mouth. Bucky frowned but didn’t move to enter the room. Steve was curious and decided to see just what caused Sam to crawl up his dresser. Crouching low, he ducked to look under the bed and came face to face with rather amused amethyst eyes with thin black slits. A thin pink tongue flicked out of the reptile’s face and Y/N lifted her head to acknowledge Steve’s appearance. He chuckled low and turned back to Sam with a shit-eating grin.

“This? This is what’s making you scream like a girl?”

“You weren’t there man! She was in my bed. I didn’t know ‘til she popped up from under the pillow and hissed at me! Fangs and all!” He squawked, shaking his dangling foot with irritation. Steve’s shoulders shook with laughter, looking over to Bucky. Bucky still stood in the doorway, a blank expression settling on his face as he stared at the bed.

“Buck. Wanna come get her out?” Bucky stayed silent, his eyes twitching as he thought for an excuse. Unable to find one right away, he simply decided to stay silent. Steve frowned and peered over to Sam who had climbed off the dresser. He turned back to the bed and gently reached out to scoop up the smaller reptile. Y/N made no noise of protest, winding herself around Steve’s forearm giving him a better grip on her thin body.

Steve stood and turned to Bucky, cradling Y/N close to his chest. He took a step forward and extended the arm with the coiled snake to his friend.

“You wanna talk with her?” His question was innocent enough. Typically, Bucky would scoop her up and wander off while scolding her. This time, he did nothing of the sort. He stared at Steve’s arm for a moment, his eyes unblinking and almost looking past the bright hopeful purple eyes that stared up to him. Without a word, he turned and walked down the hall, leaving the three rooted in place, stunned.

Y/N unwound herself from his arm, her tail slipping from his fingers to brush against the floor. As she slowly slipped out of his loosened grip, she shifted. Neither of the men said anything when they saw her shoulders drop. Sam pulled out one of his shirts and passed it to Y/N. Numbly, she shrugged the oversized cotton on. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the door, her heart tight in her chest.

“Doll?” Steve murmured, his fingers gently running down the skin on her arm. Slowly, she turned to face him, tears starting to form in her eyes.

“Steve. What-What did I do?” Steve fumbled for an answer, watching his friend break right in front of him. Her upper lip began to quiver, the tears slipping free down her cheeks. Instantly, he reached out and pulled her to his front. He had no words, no excuse for Bucky’s sudden shift in behavior. All he could do was embrace her and let her sob into his chest.

“I don’t know, Y/N. Please don’t cry, it’s okay.” He tried to sound reassuring, but even to himself, it sounded empty. Sam stepped up behind Y/N, his hand rubbing circles on her back. He gave Steve a look that said this was far from over. Bucky needed to be dealt with, but Y/N needed them first.

“I thought he was giving me space because Natasha and Wanda were complaining that he took up all my time. I told him it was okay, I didn’t have to spend time with them, but he insisted. And then this whole week he’s been avoiding me. I enter a room and he takes off. I don’t know what I did!” Y/N's voice shook as another sob racked in her chest. Steve clenched his eyes shut, his own set of tears threatening to spill. He hated not having the right answer for her. “I went to follow him earlier and he told me he didn’t want to talk. I told him we didn’t have to, we could just sit and watch a movie. Instead, he snapped at me and told me to leave him alone.”

Sam’s jaw clenched. It took everything in him to not run out of the room and deck Bucky in the face. Y/N’s continued sobs kept him in check.

“I thought maybe it would make him feel better if I pranked Sam. It has in the past. But I never thought he’d look at me like that.” Y/N shuttered at the memory of his stare. His beautiful blues were so lifeless and hollow. “It was like he had never seen me before. It’s like he wants nothing to do with me.”

“No that can’t be it.” Steve croaked but stopped short at the shake of her head.

“What did I do, Steve?” She whimpered. “It’s been months, and he’s never had a problem before. Why? Why now? And why wouldn’t he talk to me?”

There have only been a few times in Steve’s life where he was at a loss for words, where he had no idea what to do or how to fix anything. Staring down at Y/N’s broken expression, her tears staining her cheeks as she struggled to breathe was by far the worst time yet. He had no answer, not even the slightest clue. All he could do was wrap his arms around her tighter and let her cling to his shirt.

“What did I do wrong?”

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[stunudo]

Along This Long and Winding Path

A Criminal Minds Fan-fiction

Featuring: Spencer Reid x the BAU team

Setting: Season 14

A/N: This is day two of my 1k Follower Grab Bag of Fics. But when I saw the formula for this day I knew it was going to be an angsty mess. Reid with Team Unity/ Wheels Up in the future. This is one way I could see the cliffhanger of season 13 being resolved, you all will probably hate me. Also, this somehow turned into a case fic. xoxo Stu

Spencer Reid had a barrel of a gun pointed at his head, his gun pointed back. If he shot her, Penelope could die, if he didn’t he would be taken prisoner into the very cult that had kidnapped his friend and fellow genius. Though the decision appeared to be containing two options, his mind began factoring all the variables, giving seemingly endless possibilities. Penelope’s voice was muffled behind the car window, “Shoot her Reid!”

Penelope Garcia, a peace loving and nurturing analyst was asking him to shoot someone. She had saved him all those years ago in a Texas hospital room, he wouldn’t let her be in danger now. Protocol be damned. He holstered his sidearm and surrendered. Suddenly the dream faded away and he woke up to face a new day.

Chief Emily Prentiss had been sitting silently at her desk for an indeterminate amount of time. There were cases piling up and there were reports due out, but her mind and her attentions kept floating off. Her sense of duty had be quelled these past few months leaving room for distraction that only masked guilt. There was a knock at the door, JJ’s cool blue eyes tried to hide her empathy.

“Kevin sent us a text to meet in the round table room,” JJ stayed in the doorway. “You ready?”

“Of course, sorry about that,” Emily closed the folder that was open on her desk, one she hadn’t even realized she had opened and stood to follow JJ to the conference room.

Kevin Lynch stood awkwardly in front of the group of profilers until JJ and Emily were seated amongst them.

“Alright, it’s a bad one,” he started, his joker grin lost on his swallowing features. “We’ve got seven sets of human remains found in the woods outside of Boise. There has been flooding in the area and that is why they were discovered. Local sheriff’s office puts the most recent body at six months, which is still tentative given the state they were in.”

“So we need to determine if there is still a threat and profile from there,” Emily added, glancing at the evidence photos on her tablet.

David Rossi was in the market for some real estate in the Bay Area, looking forward to spending more time with Kai and Joy now that he was retired. His wives and his retirements came in threes, apparently. He unconsciously checked his phone as the realtor showed him through the third overpriced yet charming  house of the day. He couldn’t turn off his agent senses, but he also didn’t want to interrupt a case. He shut off the phone to stop himself from scratching the itch.

“Mr. Rossi, can you believe this kitchen?!” The realtor gushed.

Spencer Reid made his way to the day room, having slept through breakfast. He didn’t mind, he could have a cup of coffee from the nurses station, but all the sugar in the place couldn’t make it satisfactory. He found Thomas at the card table, just like every other day and silently sat down.

“Didn’t think you’d make it out today,” the man’s gruff voice disproportionate to his small frame.

Spencer’s voice was soft and slow to reply, “Some days are worse than others. Did you still want to play?”

“Why not, let them wait on us for group for once,” Thomas grinned his crooked teeth and began setting up the chess pieces.

The roads were nearly impassable and yet the BAU got to the crime scene before noon. Simmons and Alvez wore backpacks while JJ and Emily had utility belts on. Tara thought they all looked ridiculous and was instead taking pictures with her phone to send to Kevin. The bodies had been left in the position they had been found until their arrival. The mud making any close inspection nearly impossible.

“How long until we can get them to the coroners’, Agent Prentiss?”

“We don’t need much longer, given the state of the area we would be more harm than good at this point,” she explained.

“JJ, come look at this,” Alvez was crouched down over the body of a young woman.

“Those look like defensive wounds,” JJ was confused.

“She was clawing at herself like that?” Luke suggested.

“The unsub may have been using a burning agent or some kind of hallucinogen,” Tara leaned over to look at the most in tact body. Emily and Matt both shared a look when the last word was said.

Group was the hardest part of his day, but also the one he looked forward to the most. It wasn’t therapy, but it was conducted like it. It gave the staff an excuse to get everyone together before lunch was served and also brought the long term residents some socialization. The quickly rehabilitated patients were the most talkative during the sessions, but Spencer made it a point to seek out those who were less keen to share.

The introverts that didn’t seek the recognition or the attention of the group were his people, but that didn’t stop him from focusing in on one extrovert’s contributions day after day.

“How is everyone today?” She grinned her lopsided grin from her chair. “I know the weather is all over the place right now, but the courtyard is starting to see some fresh growth. You guys should really check it out.” Penelope saw some hands raise and she pointed with her right hand to pick on the next person to share.

Spencer and Thomas had entered the cafeteria, Thomas’s walker was sliding on tennis balls with faces drawn on them. His bright eyes watched Penelope as she giggled at the story someone had shared.

“Prentiss, the id on this victim flagged in Vicap,” Simmons handed Emily his tablet with Kevin’s email.

“Carol Murray. She was an unsub?”

“A victim, from Tallahassee.” Simmons pointed to the information on the screen.

“That’s a long way to move a body,” Prentiss added.

“According to the file, we worked the case,” Simmons.

“Jayge, do you remember a case in Florida, apparently there was a string of shootings for organ donors?”

“Yeah, what’s it have to do with these bodies in Idaho?” JJ’s face was in disbelief.

“One of the bodies was a victim you and Morgan saved on the case.”

“So, we going to talk today, or are you going to keep watching me during Group?” Penelope had wheeled over to him during lunch.

“Garcia,” Spencer whispered, giving her a dejected look.

“Oh, don’t Garcia me, Reid,” Penelope’s voice was nearly back to normal, her speech pathologist was thrilled with her progress. What Spencer hadn’t warned her therapist was how much natural practice she had talking.

“I know what you’re going to say, but I am not ready to hear it,” Spencer pushed his instant mashed potatoes around his tray.

“When will you be ready? When I am back to work? When I can strut around in platforms again?” Penelope clutched his forearm. “Hey, look at me Boy Wonder.”

Spencer sniffled and patted her manicured hand on his arm.

“Those things might not happen--”

“Penelope, you are making great progress--” She put her finger on his interrupting mouth.

“They might not happen, so just in case. I forgive you. You, Spencer Reid, who did precisely as I asked and shot that traitor on the spot.”

“Penelope, I can’t accept that, not yet.”

“Well, tough, because I am going to tell you every chance I get.” She grinned at him, shaking her head with attitude.

Emily stood in the conference room at the local police station, she stretched her neck before addressing the team.

“They’re sure?” she asked Alvez who had just returned from the coroners’ office.

“There was no trace of anything in their systems, but some of these bodies are beyond evidence collection.” Alvez explained.

“If this is who we think it was, there wouldn’t be traces. The question is, why here? Wouldn’t he want us to know he was targeting the victims we saved?” Simmons asked.

“We need to call Spence, this can’t just be a coincidence.” JJ crossed her arms in her folding chair.

“Reid has refused to consult in the past, what makes you think he would help now?” Simmons asked in a low tone, he was hopefully curious.

“You tell him or Penelope it’s Scratch and they will be here or the bat cave.” JJ was staring down Emily’s ‘we shouldn’t be having this conversation face’.

Emily’s head snapped back and it hung there staring at the stained drop ceiling tiles. “I do not want Garcia on this, not yet.” Emily gave in.

Spencer’s afternoons were full; he saw some patients twice a week and others only once. The road to his personal recovery started with getting his therapist’s license. He wanted to be able to approach his trauma and doubts from every angle, it led him to helping others accept and process their physical injuries and restrictions. Garcia called him her caretaker, when she wasn’t flirting with the orderlies.

She was one of a handful of patients he didn’t see, ensuring he wasn’t blurring any lines between who were his patients and who were his friends. She wouldn’t have cooperated if he had tried to make an appointment with her in the first place. He was taking notes over the last ten minutes of the hour for his final patient of the day, when the landline phone rang on his desk. He had forgotten he had a direct line at the facility.

“Dr. Reid?” He answered.

“Spence?” JJ’s voice, of course they had her call him this time.

“JJ, how did Henry’s potato battery go?” He was ignoring the professional urgency in her voice.

“Uh, fine, he wants to try other food next. But, that’s not why I called.” Spencer’s mouth ticked, he thought for two seconds before biting his lips and exhaling.

“What’s the case?”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“As long as it is not a cult, I may be willing to help you out.”

“We think we found one of Scratch’s contingencies.”

“Where should I meet you?”

Penelope grew alarmed when Spencer didn’t say goodbye for the day, he always slipped her a Dum-Dum or a new trinket going into the weekend. He claimed it was for her muscle control, but she knew it was because he loved her. Which meant that his disappearing act was only because he had been taken away by someone or something else he loved.

Diana and the team battled inside her mind for the bigger dangers, she quickly wheeled back to her room and got her tablet out to Skype Kevin at Headquarters. His look of shock and dismay at her timing told Penelope she was on the right track.

“Penelope, hi, so nice to see your face,” Kevin gave his fakest smile ever.

“So, Kevin, remembering that I have, in fact, seen you naked. How long is it going to take to convince you to send me whatever my babies are working on?”

“Penelope, you are on medical leave, I am legally not allowed to share work with you or jail, all of us, jail.”

“Yeah, but think of all the juicy details I could share about you on the interwebs,” Penelope cooed.

“You’re hacking in remotely? How are you even doing this?! Not to mention that facility doesn’t have the speed for this?!”

JJ and Alvez met Spencer at the airport, Luke drove while JJ went over their findings. Spencer felt oddly comfortable in the standard issued SUV, despite not having been in the field for months.

“So your two theories are this was Scratch working a different angle or an unsub who was specifically targeting the BAU?”

“Pretty much.” Luke turned into the hotel’s parking lot.

“Have all of the victims been identified?”

“All but two, dental records on missing persons are taking a while,” JJ shrugged, clearly Kevin was a not Penelope.

“And those bodies that were identified all had ties to the team?”

“Uh, yes, though some of them are three degrees from Kevin Bacon, if you know what I’m saying.” Alvez added, sliding from the driver’s seat.

Spencer’s face constricted in to confusion, “The victims are tied to an actor?”

“No, Spence, it’s a pop culture game, ignore Luke.” JJ clucked, it was good to have his innocent side resurface after so long. They headed into the hotel for the night.

In the morning, there was word that the park rangers in the next county found a body near a cabin. Simmons and JJ went to check it out for connections. Meanwhile, Alvez, Lewis and Prentiss went over the victimology for the bodies from the mass grave with Spencer. Emily felt him doubting them and she couldn’t help but hold out hope he was right.

“Besides Carol Murray’s scratches, are there any other indicator of the use of fear or self harm?”

“Bernice De La Pena had defensive wounds, but nothing as extensive as Carol Murray’s.” Tara answered as Emily handed over photographs of the arms on the other woman.

Alvez’s phone rang, “Uh-oh, you too?! Let me put you on speaker.”

“Hey guys,” Rossi’s voice called out into the meeting space.

“Rossi?” Spencer’s voice hitched in surprise.

“Is that the kid, I knew something was up. What you got Emily?”

“Possible Scratch side attack, we’re probably jumping to the wrong conclusions, but we couldn’t be too careful.”

“That must be why Garcia left me those ominous messages. Anything you need from me?”

“Rossi, do the names Bernice De La Pena, Courtney Sanders and Stephanie Marx mean anything to you?” Tara recited from the list of identified victims.

“Not off the top of my head, should they?”

“One of the victims was a previous save for us, Carol Murray, but we aren’t seeing direct connections.” Emily continued.

“That’s why you brought in Reid?”

“One of many reasons,” Emily smirked at Spencer, he looked away. She held the phone, “We should get back at it, but we’ll keep you posted.”

“See ya, Rossi,” Luke took his phone back. “So, what are you seeing Reid?”

The body that JJ and Simmons were sent to inspect had clearly died of an animal attack, but the sheriff insisted they check out the cabin too. With little progress where the team was holed up, they decided to entertain the locals with a walk through. It was a simple, yet well decorated vacation home, it had running water, generator procured electricity, and a wood burning furnace. Matt glanced at JJ and they followed the deputy around back to the cellar.

Inside they knew they had made the right decision, there was no other word for it’s purpose than torture room. There were photographs of various women and animals pinned in different positions. JJ swallowed hard as she spotted Carol Murray’s face in unimaginable pain. Matt was already on his phone to Prentiss.

Emily closed her eyes, “Oh, thank God.”

Alvez and Spencer waited until she was done with the call before realizing their worst fears were unfulfilled. Mr. Scratch was not behind these murders.

“Spencer, I’m really sorry that we dragged you all the way out here,” Emily explained as she started gathering her things to head to the cabin and continue the investigation. “Luke will take you to the airport from here.”

“The case isn’t solved, Emily. If it’s alright with you, I would like to finish the profile. Especially since the unsub remains at large.” Spencer replied, he didn’t need to be rescued or sent away. Luke grinned, but tried to hide it as Emily’s face melted into secretively pleased.

“It’s good to have you back, SSA Reid,” Chief Prentiss nodded.

“It’s still Doctor, Emily,” Spencer smirked as he secured his messenger bag over his shoulder.

“You’re damn right it is,” Tara’s nose scrunched up and she patted him on the back.

The elevator inside FBI Headquarters still smelled the same, Spencer noticed as he was wedged beside his former teammates. They had registered him as a consultant with special clearance if he ever changed his mind about leaving the job. So with his special pass around his neck he stepped out into the familiar bullpen. It looked the same, even his desk remained untouched in his absence, the fact caused him mixed emotions.

Kevin came storming from the tech office in a near fit, “Chief Prentiss, hi, uh, I just want it, on the record, that there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t restrain her, she’s already partially paralyzed.”

Slowly Penelope made her appearance, “Oh boo-who, Tech Boy here couldn’t keep me from making sure my team was alright. Emily is not going to slap you with a sanction, Kevin.”

“But I could slap you with one,” Emily threatened.

“Moi?”

“Yeah, violating medical leave and hacking government servers,” Emily suggested, playing tough.

Everyone let the scene play out, though they were all bursting with laughter. JJ looked away while Luke and Simmons swallowed it and stood tall. Tara was as ever, unflinching. Spencer’s face was confused, “How did you even get released from the Rehab Facility?!”

“Oh, sweet, pure, Reid. Mama has her ways,” Penelope sighed. “Besides, there are medical transport vehicles available on Uber and Lyft. I got a ride in no time. Now, whose driving, because Rossi is waiting on us with the kettle on.”

Spencer wished he had the unstoppable optimism of Penelope, but when he looked around the room at the faces of the BAU team he felt nearly hopeful. His decision to walk away from this group of unwavering loyal and dedicated people was not one of selfishness. He regretted it and was certain of it in equal measure. His choices had caused his friends almost insurmountable pain over the past few years, had cost Stephen Walker his life and Penelope her ability to walk. His decision to teach and volunteer at Penelope’s Rehabilitation Facility had been the first choice he was proud of in a very long time. However much an act of penance it was.

The food was phenomenal, as always and the conversation was kept light. Rossi had some great stories about Kai and trying to find a place to live in the most ridiculous real estate market in the country. Penelope was beaming with her freedom and friend time. Tara and Luke were bantering as always, apparently the last blind date he had set her up with was a nightmare.

Emily approached him as JJ and Matt ducked out to head back to their families. “You know, you could work part time, like Tara.”

“Emily, I would have to be reinstated and I don’t think I am ready to have my gun back on my hip, just yet.”

“So what you’re saying is maybe?” There was a devilish glint to her eye.

“What? No, stop putting words in my mouth.” He smirked, she had him on the ropes and he knew it.

‘We don’t always have a choice in what happens to us, but you know what sometimes we do. And right now, I’m just asking you to make the choice to stay.” Emily said back verbatim.

“Fight for us, fight for the team.” Spencer continued, his voice a whisper as he recalled those words pouring from his own heart.

“It’s what we do.” Emily finished. “I know you’re not ready. You won’t even let Penelope forgive you. But, don’t give up on us, just yet. We haven’t given up on you.”

Spencer sighed, his tears burning as she looked back at him with the years of cases and personal loss behind them. “Okay.”

@dontshootmespence @illegalcerebral @literallyprentissstwin @cherry-loves-fanfic @mentallydatingspencerreid

[aion-rsa]

What’s It Like to Be on Netflix’s The Circle?

https://ift.tt/3l2bC58

This article contains spoilers for The Circle season 3 episodes 1-4.

Long the bread and butter of network television, reality competition TV shows have become increasingly popular on streaming platforms. And why wouldn’t they? Reality television is usually cheaper to produce than scripted TV series and audiences tend to like unscripted content just as much anyway. Plus, if the past few years have taught us nothing else, it’s that there’s some truth in the notion that reality is often stranger than fiction.

Netflix, in particular, has found itself in the reality competition TV game more and more. Nailed It!, Blown Away, and Too Hot to Handle are all great examples of Netflix’s increased investment in reality competition programming, but our choice for the streamer’s best might just be The Circle.

Like any good reality series, The Circle is part competition and part social experiment. The show invites eight contestants to join a virtual popularity contest in which they craft online profiles then interact with one another only through “The Circle” social media platform. And to immediately answer the obvious question: yes, you can catfish.

Players in The Circle work to gain one another’s trust and then vote on their favorite contestants within the game. Players are occasionally “blocked” or removed from the game while fresh blood is often brought in, with the last competitor standing winning $100,000. All throughout contestants are subjected to the whims of The Circle’s twists and rule changes. 

The Circle originated in the U.K. and is now a franchise with Netflix being home to the American, French, and Brazilian versions. The American series has a distinctly multi-time zone flair with filming taking place in British apartments (the show is produced by London-based All3Media and European electricity outlets are visible on the walls) but with all establishing shots filmed in Chicago. 

Read more

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Could Netflix Move Away From the Binge-Watch Model?

By Kayti Burt

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Netflix Reports Some Eye-Popping Numbers About Its International Offerings

By Alec Bojalad

Due to the geographical mismashing, The Circle has a sense of appearing outside of time itself. Quarantining all of its players within the same building but not allowing them to interact in person is another interesting twist. It all adds up to make The Circle one of the most logistically strange reality shows in a long time. 

Suffice it to say, we have some questions about how the whole thing works. Thankfully, in advance of the show’s third season premiere, Den of Geek was able to chat with three of The Circle’s newest contestants: Ruksana Syed-Carroll, Daniel Cusimano, and Michelle Rider. The trio discussed their strategies going in, what day-to-day life inside a reality competition is like, and most importantly: what’s on the menu in The Circle. 

Here are some of our biggest Circle questions, answered.

How many Circle alerts are there a day?

One key aspect of being in The Circle is that you’re operating on The Circle’s time. Contestants are free to do whatever they like during the day, but when the glowing blue circle on television screens in their rooms reports a “Circle Alert” it’s time to drop everything and pay attention. 

Circle Alerts can run the gamut from voting updates, to new games, to big twists, but how often exactly do they arrive? 

“It’s one, two, or three a day,” reports Ruksana. “You’re really not prepared. You don’t know what’s going to happen. It’s sort of like excitement and being paranoid at the same time.”

Based on the contestants’ reactions through three seasons, simultaneous excitement and paranoia seems to be right on.

What can you bring into The Circle?

Every time a new contestant enters the Circle, they are essentially just checking into a hotel room. As depicted in the show, players arrive with a suitcase filled with clothes and some personal items. So what do contestants usually bring?

“I brought a lot of books and my makeup which is my security blanket for any travel,” Ruksana says.

Since contestants are supposed to focus on the game itself, they are given only so many other entertainment options to pass the time.

 “It was like a lot of puzzles and word searches,” Ruksana adds. “I’m a very arts and crafts type. So arts and crafts stuff, making things, painting.”

Other Circle members choose to hone their craft. 

“I’m a stand-up comedian so I wrote a lot of comedy while I was there,” Michelle says.

What do you eat in The Circle?

Even though The Circle is a dispassionate algorithm, surely it knows that people need to eat, right? Thankfully, The Circle did get the memo on that one as contestants have a whole array of options on the menu. 

While Daniel says he relied on frozen food, his fellow contestants put more energy into cooking.  

“I’m a foodie,” Ruksana says. “I’m also very particular about food and seasoning because I’m Indian. ‘Takeaways’ is what they call takeout (in the U.K.) but I didn’t really like the food so I did a lot of cooking. It was easy for me because, where we were in the U.K., there was a big Indian population. So, that was very comforting for me because I knew that I couldn’t fail with that. Cooking does make the time go faster.”

Michelle also prefers to cook.

“Honey, I’m Southern. So you know I was cooking,” she says. “I would cook fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans, when you had time. Because a lot of times you might be cooking and they may go, ‘Okay, stop,’ and you have to stop what you’re doing.”

It seems as though cooking is among the easiest ways to pass time between Circle alerts. 

What happens when you leave The Circle? 

The Circle eliminates contestants frequently. The competition, however, is a relatively short one and ends with every contestant returning for one big finale. With that in mind, wouldn’t it make sense to just allow the eliminated contestants to hang out in their London hotel room for a couple more weeks?

According to Michelle, the second contestant eliminated this season, that’s not the case at all. 

“When you go, you are gone,” she says. “You leave and that’s it. Then once everything’s done, then they call on you to come back for the finale and everything.”

What’s it like when The Circle throws you a curveball?

Though the rhythms of each season of The Circle are generally the same, each batch of episodes thus far has featured at least one new wrinkle. In the case of season 3, the first contestants eliminated (a pair of sisters posting under one of the sister’s identities) are given the rare opportunity to rejoin the competition. 

Instead of getting a whole new profile though, they are tasked with “cloning” an existing profile. The sisters settle on Michelle, creating a “Blue Michelle (the imposter)” and the “Orange Michelle (the real one)”. The rest of the circle is tasked with choosing which Michelle is the real one and vote nearly unanimously on the wrong profile. 

What’s it feel like to be at the center of one of The Circle’s many twists and be eliminated as a result? Not great as it turns out!

“It makes you angry because you feel like, ‘Well, I didn’t even have a chance,’” Michelle says. “I haven’t seen the show yet, but if you saw emotion, it was raw emotion because I was angry, I cried. I was so mad because I just felt like I didn’t have a chance.”

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Even the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry when confronted with a social media themed reality competition. 

The first four episodes of The Circle are available to stream on Netflix now. Episodes 5-8 will be released on Sept. 15, episodes 9-12 on Sept. 22, and the finale on Sept. 29.

The post What’s It Like to Be on Netflix’s The Circle? appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[jhope-seok]

Boiled, Mashed, or in a Stew

Disclaimer: All of the things mentioned in this story are all works of fiction and have been made up by me, the author.  I did not intend to make anything based on real life, and any coincidences to real life are purely coincidences.

Members: Taehyung x Reader (idol!verse), mentions of Jin and Jimin

Rating: Fluff/minor angst

Warnings: None!

Prompts: 1) “What am I then, a potato?”

Length: 1,837 words

Masterlist | Requests are closed!

(A/N: for @howdoyoubias and a thank you to @taetaetrashhh for being a beta!; this is for the Bangtanwriters-net February Challenge!; also, title paraphrased from LOTR...don’t judge me okay)

You find yourself getting bored of the drama playing on the screen; completely uninterested in the overused plot of two boys fawning over the same woman, each vying for her love.

“It never happens in real life,” you grumble internally. You try to get up to take a break from the episode, but your legs are trapped under your best friend’s arms as his eyes are glued to the tv screen in front of you.

Taehyung pleaded with you for days asking you to come over and watch the season finale with him, saying that since you had binged the rest of the season together he wouldn’t watch the last episode without you. You would never tell him, but the only reason you’d agreed to watch the show in the first place was because it meant more time hanging out with him. He’d been so busy with his schedule that when he had texted you that he had a free day, suggesting a binge watch and promising to buy your favorite pizza you couldn’t resist.

But when he’d picked out this drama, you’d quickly found yourself rolling your eyes at the typical lines used in dramas time and time again. You had stated your disinterest for this particular drama somewhere near the middle of the third episode, but Taehyung had claimed it was just a slow start.

“It’ll pick up eventually, Y/N, just you wait,” you remember him claiming. You also remember becoming highly interested in a new game you downloaded on your phone near the start of the fourth episode.

You shake your legs as hard as you can, trying to free yourself from his grip. “Taehyung,” you plead, “I’m so bored, please let go of my feet. I want to go.”

“Come on, Y/N,” Taehyung sing-songs as he tickles your feet. “You gotta stay. It’s just now getting to the best part. They’re about to reveal who she chooses to be with!”

“I don’t care!” you whine, sitting up now to push his arms away from your calves. “Let me go!”

“Don’t be like this, Y/N. How can you be bored watching Lee Sung Kyung? She’s gorgeous!” He waves his arms at the television, as her face fills the screen.

You take his lapse in concentration to remove your legs. “Hey!” you kick him in the side, “Are you really gonna swoon over another girl when I’m right here,” you scoff sarcastically. You try not to show how much it pains you to hear him say that, keeping your true hurt pushed down, deep in the pit of your stomach. It’s always hurt to see him show any affection for another girl, but you’d learned over the years how to push it down.

Especially now that he was an idol and was on screen with so many women all the time, you had become numb to the feeling of being second in his eyes. You realized he only saw you as his best friend. You’d been his little buddy since you’d gotten to know him all those years ago in school. Jimin swore he liked you back, saying that all the stuff you saw him doing on television was just an act, something he had to do for the fans. Jimin said that the way Taehyung talked about you when you weren’t visiting the dorm could only be attributed to the way someone talked about the love of their life, but you never saw it, never heard it. Sometimes you entertained the idea that Taehyung looked at you with love when you weren’t looking, but every time you tried to imagine it you knew you were only getting your hopes up only to be let down.

You’re glad that he doesn’t look at you when he answers, the hurt having crept into the lines in your forehead. Instead he emphasizes his answer with another shake of his arms at the screen, “Look at her!”

“What am I then, a potato?” you joke, letting out a stiff laugh as you stand from the couch to go get yourself a snack from the kitchen, praying that Jin left some of his home cooking in the fridge.

You’re surprised by the sound of silence, both from Taehyung and the TV. You look back over your shoulder as you enter the kitchen. “Why’d you pause it?” you ask.

“Yes,” is his only answer. He’s stood from his spot on the couch now, and has begun to follow you.

“What?” you laugh, not understanding where he’s coming from. You’re stopped in the middle of the kitchen, the tile cold against your bare feet.

“Yes, you are a potato.”

“I swear, Kim Taehyung, if you weren’t my best friend...” you take a step towards him and raise your hand like you’re going to hit him, but the giggle in your throat gives away your humorous intention.

“No, really,” he insists. He sounds all too serious and your face gives away the pain you feel at his words.

“Taeee,” you whimper. “That’s mean.”

“No no no,” he rushes his words and his feet to close the space between you. Taehyung grabs your hands, “I mean that in a good way.” Your face clouds with confusion as he rambles on, “Potatoes are God’s gift to the earth. Potatoes are the best thing to happen to the world. Potatoes are way better than Lee Sung Kyung. I love potatoes.”

His eyes are fiery, hinting at a wild passion you’ve never seen in him before. Your heart races at the inflection in his words, his emphasis on love too strong to go unnoticed. You’re perplexed by his statements. You’re sure you’re not understanding him correctly, because if he’s trying to hint that he loves you…

“No,”  you cut off your own thoughts, “There’s no way Kim Taehyung loves me. There’s no possibility that the man I’ve called my best friend for the past eight years, the man I’ve loved for so long could ever love me back.”

But, although your thoughts are deep in denial, your mouth moves independently from your brain, itching for the truth after all this time. “So, what are you saying? Are you saying you love me?”

He pauses, the fire in his eyes dying to a soft smolder. No longer a raging forest fire, but instead the subdued embers of a bonfire after a long night of being tended to. But this light warms your chest faster than the fiery passion his eyes had revealed only moments before. It makes your cheeks burn and heart beat rapidly, the thudding so loud you almost miss his next words. “Well...yes,” he mumbles.

Something about the delicate rasp in his throat, the airiness on his tongue, the warmth of his hands on yours snaps you back into denial from your momentary belief that he could possibly reciprocate your feelings. You’re positive this is some joke he’s playing on you, his attempt at practicing his acting skills on you. You laugh, almost folded in half, hands coming loose from his grasp. “Oh, shut up, Tae,” you huff, pushing his shoulder and move back to open the fridge, eyes searching the containers of leftovers stacked inside.

Yet even though you’re feigning denial, your heart is still racing, your cheeks still feel flushed against the cool air from the refrigerator, hands clammy as you try to maintain your grip on the door handle. You know that if he keeps this act up any longer there’s no way you can hide your own feelings. But, you also know that if he’s lying, if this is all some practical joke, you’d never be able to face him again. So you keep your face hidden in the fridge, pretend to move around containers, weighing your options for a snack even as you hear him step closer to you, his voice just on the other side of the door.

“No, Y/N. I’m serious. I...I love you. And not just as best friend. I mean, I’ve always loved you as my best friend,” his voice is shaking but his words keep flowing, “but recently, being so busy with all of my schedules...whenever I’m away from you...whenever I see you, what I see in you and what I feel in my heart. It’s different from what I see and feel when I look at Lee Sung Kyung.”

Your hands don’t move anymore, you’ve given up on your act, given up on pretending to be unfazed by all of this. Your body is still as a rock, yet you can feel the blood pumping in your veins even faster than before. And when you somehow find your voice, you’re surprised at how stable it sounds. “Different.”

Taehyung rests his hands against the door handle, his fingers lightly grazing yours. The sudden contact has you jerking your hand back, the door shutting with a soft click. You’re now very aware of the space between you and Taehyung, and you swear you could count the centimeters that separate you, although they feel like miles.

“Different. But it’s a good different,” his eyes stay steady on yours. He doesn’t move closer to you, but somehow you feel his words lessen the gap, each syllable chopping away at the distance millimeter by millimeter. “When I look at you, I see beauty beyond measure. I see someone who continues to be there for me even though I’ve missed so many important moments in your life. I see someone who sits with me through drama marathons, even though you don’t like the shows. I see someone who, through everything, will be there for me until the very end. I see someone who I can see myself with until the very end. When I look at you, I see the person I’m meant to be with until the very end.”

“Tae,” you whisper.

“Y/N,” he’s reaching out to you finally, closing the gap, arms encircling you, the familiar warmth bringing tears to your eyes. “I love you,” is murmured into your hair, hands clutching at your back, pressing you close against his chest.

The tears are falling from your eyes faster than the beating of your heart. You wrap your arms around his waist, anchoring yourself to him to make sure this moment is real, to make sure it’s actually happening. “Taehyung,” you choke through your tears, “I love you too.”

Your body is on cloud nine and your mind is reeling, but your memory does not fail you and you remember one thing that you cannot let him get away with. “I love you too,” you repeat, “even though you called me a potato.”

His chest rumbles a joyful sound and you lean back to look into his eyes. You’re overwhelmed with happiness, the evidence plastered all over your face. He wipes away your tears and smiles, “Yes, I did, and I’m sorry. But what I said stands. I love potatoes more than anything on this earth. You’re my potato.”

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