#There's so much stuff that Familiar Bill could have used once things got really rough to TRULY hammer things home

[tswwwit]

Crying, sobbing, throwing up after reading Bill vs Bill and knowing that in the Book of Bill, Bill had parents, a family who loved him. And Familiar!Bill has that again in the form of his Dipper loving him back

Thank you! Familiar!Bill is really doing much better than the baseline version, what with forming one (1) honest emotional connection and all.

I'm pretty pleased with the emotional arc of Bill vs Bill, but if I went back to it? I'd alter some of Bill's weaponized embarrassment to include Book of Bill details. It'd just hit so much harder.

[misterghostfrog]

39 FOR THE PROMPTS PLEASE AAAAA

LOOK OK, i’m going to start by saying this one... got away from me a little bit. And I didn’t originally mean to combine the prompts, and neither are technically correct. BUT consider you can’t stop me

39. Kissing tears from the other’s face.

30. Pulling away from a kiss, whispering words of love against each other’s lips.

Cw; This takes place after the unknowing but before Jon wakes up in canon, and Martin starts in a rough headspace. Also accidental compulsion.

(This is actually a sorta part-2 to the pre-unknowing ficlet I did! Tho u don’t gotta read it to understand it works as a standalone too. Anyway welcome to the AU ZONE)

EDIT: fixed a typo

Martin usually visits Jon on Thursday.

He used to visit every day. But the nurses began to give him looks after the first month, and it was hard to balance checking on Jon with regular life things like groceries, laundry, and work. So he’s cut back. If only to preserve his sanity.

He considered Sunday. But Sunday is the day he visits his mum, another thing that has been hard to balance with- well. Everything. Besides, it’s hard to stack that much heartbreak into one day.

The receptionist gives him a funny look. He would give himself a funny look too, he looks a wreck, he knows it. She knows him, so seeing him on a wednesday looking like he crawled out of the back end of hell. Or maybe just hasn’t done any laundry for a few days. Or showered. And got in a fight and lost.

He’s already waited too long though, he thinks. He... well. It’s his last chance, he supposes. If Jon isn’t coming back, then...

Yeah.

It’ll be for the best.

He turns the knob on the door, he knows what he’ll say. Even if he’s talking to a dead man he needs a speech apparently. And-

He bounces off of something- or someone. Who trips back a step in turn.

“Oh god- I’m so sorry-” He says almost automatically.

“No, don’t worry about it I wasn’t-”

“I wasn’t even looking where I was going a-and-”

“Really it’s fine-”

The man isn’t a nurse, Martin’s sees that much. He’s tall-ish. Handsome, certainly. Definitely no-one he’s ever met. And certainly no-one he thinks might have a reason to visit Jon. Not that Jon shouldn't get handsome visitors, but- well. He doesn’t- didn’t? Have many people outside of the institute he ever talked about. And so this guy turning up out of the blue is... well.

“Er- I’m sorry, but who... who are you?”  He’s not- he’s not upset. that this random stranger is visiting Jon. It’s just weird is all. Yeah. Really weird, actually.

“Oh! I- I’m- I’m a friend of Jons.” The man says with an awkward smile, his eyes darting down to his shoes for a moment as he says it. “Er- Antonio.” He tacks the name on like an afterthought. This time his gaze flicks somewhere around Martin's shoulder, he shuffles on his feet.

Martin’s never been an expert at picking up on lies, not to say he’s bad at it. He just doesn’t find it something to worry about generally. But it’s hard not to notice when ‘Antonio’ is basically holding an imaginary blinking neon sign that says ‘I AM LYING’ with accompanying metaphorical Morse code with the same message.

He swears he’s heard that name before though.

“Oh. Er- he’s never um, talked about you?” he says carefully.

“Oh, yeah. Very old friends. Haven’t um- talked in a while.” ‘Antonio’ waves a hand awkwardly. And casting consistent looks towards the elevator.

“Uh-huh.”

“Anyway! I’m uh- I’ll be going now. Visits over stuff to do y’know.” He’s already walking away as he says it, backing up for a moment and casting a quick wave before trotting away down the hall.

“Oh, y-yeah. Sure, bye?” Martin waves- though ‘Antonio’ isn’t looking. Watching as he basically runs down the hall.

“Bye!” ‘Antonio’ throws over his shoulder as he turns the corner to the elevators.

Well then.

“Huh.”

That’s not how he thought this visit was going to start.

He pauses for a moment. He’d been working off of something of a momentum. Check in with the nurse, make his speech. And be ready to say his goodbyes. But that... whatever just happened. Well, it threw him off.

He sighs.

It doesn’t matter. Weirdo visiting Jon. Seems about right, actually. If he thinks about it. Probably left a statement somewhere too, just to complete the weird weird picture.

The word ‘weird’ is starting to sound less like the a word the more he thinks about it.

He pushes the door to the hospital room open, he knows he’s imagining it. But the air feels heavier. The dread of the situation. The finality. Jon is still there, unmoving in his hospital bed. There's several machines tucked into the corner, they’d unhooked him from everything after the first month when it became clear that this is simply his state of being. That’s also about the time the nurses started telling him Jon probably wasn’t waking up.

He’s not going to wake up. Martin knows he’s not going to wake up. He’s been fooling himself for so long but now with the flesh attack he needs to do something. Or at the very least stop feeling like he’s doing nothing. But being miserable isn’t a solution either. 

Maybe there is no solution. Maybe it’s just, problems. Stuff he can’t fix or deal with and just- has to let it follow him until he dies.

He shifts, and his ankle twinges.

He’d tripped. It’s so stupid, it wasn’t even the monsters. He’d just- fallen and ended up hiding in a side room while everyone else dealt with meaty things crawling out of the floorboards. Just sat and hid and did nothing.

He’s tired of doing nothing.

Jon snores, interrupting his train of thought.

Martin smiles, god he’d forgotten Jon did that. Those little snorting snores- he’d only heard them a few times, back at the institute. It had scared the hell out of him the first time he’d been living-

Wait.

What?

Martin blinks. And watches as Jon scrunches his nose, making a small irritated noise- and turns over.

What.

His head skips, rewinds. Plays what he just saw back. Jon is breathing, how long has he been breathing? Doesn’t matter, he’s breathing which means he’s alive but what-

That weird guy. “Antonio”

He’s gone, Martin knows he’s gone. But he checks anyway. Even running all the way to the elevators. But he’s gone.

And Jon...

Jon is alive.

The thought hits his brain, and then slips away like a wet fish. There’s no guarantees. This could be a fluke, this could be a trap. It might not even be Jon. Just... something that looks like him, and snores like him. And-

A nurse taps him on the shoulder. And he realizes he’s been staring at the elevators for, well, he doesn’t know how long. Long enough to catch several concerned glances from passers-by though.

“Are you alright sir?” She asks, politely. He recognizes her, he chatted with her once when visiting Jon. She’s nice. She does the check ups a lot of the time, one of the few who’ll actually do it.

“He’s alive.” He says flatly, instead of answering. Because he’s not sure what the answer to the question is anyway.

The doctors do tests, though not many. According to them he’s fine. Fit as a fiddle aside from some fatigue and a little confusion. Which clearly makes them uncomfortable. Which he understands. A man wakes up from a three-month coma like he’d just rolled out of bed on a Monday morning? It makes him uncomfortable too, he thinks.

Basira drops off a statement. ‘Just felt like I should’ she’d said when he asked why. And neither of them felt particularly good about that answer.

After the statement he’s fine, not even fatigued. He’s alive.

He keeps looking at Martin.

Martin isn’t sure why he doesn’t want to look back.

Maybe it’s because it still feels like a trap, all of a sudden he comes back with no- no fanfare no effort. Right as rain and just... there.

Nobody else wants to deal with him right now- not after he just pulled a Lazarus like that. Jon wants to go to the institute. But Martin isn’t having it. He just woke up from a three-month coma. He’s going home. And yes- his lease apparently expired before the unknowing, so he doesn’t have a place to stay. And yes the only person willing to give him a place to stay is Martin. And Martin... well, it’s Jon. and even if it wasn’t, in the wake of losing three months of his life- and a friend. Or someone who had been a friend at a point before this all went to hell. He wouldn’t leave him alone for anything.

Martin tries to force himself to come to terms with it as they both climb into his car- this is what he wanted. He should be overjoyed. But it feels... it feels like if he looks at Jon for too long he’ll just... disappear. Or stop breathing again. Or stop being Jon.

“Good to see not too much has changed while I was gone.” Jon says wryly as he wrestles with the seatbelt. Which squeaks as he struggles to pull it out far enough to actually fasten it.

Martin just hums in response. Not trusting his voice not to betray whatever it is he’s feeling right now.

The drive to his flat is mostly quiet, aside from a few awkward attempts at conversation from Jon that all fall miserably flat. Eventually he gives up, and the rest of the drive is spent in silence. 

It’s not too far from the hospital to his flat. So before he knows it he’s leading Jon up the steps to his home.

It’s not much, he knows. Can’t afford anything truly fancy when carrying medical bills around. But it’s nice, homey. He hopes.

“Home sweet home.” He says, dropping his keys on the table by the door and hoping he sounds cheery. Because he doesn’t know what else to be right now. He’s figured out what emotion he’s feeling, though he’s not sure it counts as an emotion honestly.

Numb. 

Stupid, isn’t it? 

“The bathrooms down the hall- I think your stuff’s all in storage at the moment,” his voice wobbles at that, he swallows “so we’ll have to go get that soon. You can help yourself to anything in the fridge-” He’s stopped by a hand on his wrist. Familiar, too-thin, and cool.

“Martin.” Jon says. “Did I... did I do something to upset you?” It’s a question, small and helpless. Martin just wants to brush it off, he’s fine. He just needs time-

“You died, Jon.” He says instead. The words coming out unbidden.

“I- I came back.” He tightens his grip on Martins wrist for a moment before loosening  “In one piece even. I believe that was a part of our agreement” There’s a note of teasing in that last part, Martin wishes it was funny.

“I said come back safe Jon, not ‘come back from the dead’” Jon's hand drops from his wrist.

“Do you not... Are you not glad I’m back?” He sounds- sad. Of course he sounds sad Martin basically just said he wished he'd died.

“Of course I’m glad your back, I just-”

“Then what’s wrong?” The words are just- they’re just words. But Martin feels something pull in his chest.

Martin looks at Jon for the first time since the hospital.

“I’m scared, Jon! I You were dead for three months, Y-you didn’t even have a heartbeat and I-” He brings a hand upland runs it through his hair, Jon doesn’t need to hear this. He should be resting not listening to Martin dump his issues like this- “you were dead and I was the only one left. A-and yeah you came back, but- god what even is this! You’re just, fine. A-and I’m- I don’t want you to not be fine but I- I can’t even prove to myself that you’re real and not- I-I don’t-” He forces himself to stop. clamping his jaw shut around the words that suddenly feel like they’re pushing at the back of his throat like bile. Jon stares back at him, eyes wide and confused and hurt. He’s disheveled and still wearing the pajamas Martin had brought for him in the first week. Small and tired and maybe even real. He looks at Jon until he can’t because his vision begins to blur and his eyes begin to burn.

“Martin, I- I’m- I’m sorry I-” Jon's blurry form moves, and Martin shuts his eyes. Shaking his head. He should be the one apologizing, Jon didn’t need to hear that and he just- threw it at him.

“I’m-” Martin tries to apologize, but it comes out as little more than a croak. Cool hands cup his cheeks, and he opens his eyes. Jon's face is closer now, eyes scanning desperately over Martin's face.

“I- I’m not- I don’t know what I am but I’m- I-I’m me. I-I promise, I don’t know how to prove it to you but I-” Jon starts, and Martin can see his lips move to form the words-

Jon is here, he’s alive. He’s awake. His hands are on Martin's cheeks and he’s running his thumb through the tear tracks, fumbling over awkward reassurances. and looking so, so earnest. Hell, he made a joke about a conversation nobody else heard. Something just between the two of them, nobody else. And to fear entities, maybe that doesn’t matter. But for now, with Jon so close and acting so perfectly imperfectly Jon. Martin can let- no. Make himself believe. Jon’s not dead, it’s not a trap. Not right now, not yet. Just for right now, Martin isn’t alone anymore.

It doesn’t take much to lean forward, pressing their lips together. Jon makes a small, cut-off sound of surprise before melting into it, letting a hand move to the back of Martin's hair and the other fall to his shoulder. Martin's arms wrapping around Jon's waist.

Eventually they have to part for air. Martin doesn’t open his eyes, but he can feel Jon's breath on his face, and his hand in his hair and it’s all just another reminder he’s alive. And so wonderfully real.

He feels Jon move after a moment, using the hand he’s left on the back of Martin's head to guide him down. Pressing now-warm lips to the wet patches on his cheeks. Martin tries to laugh, he’s not sure why. It all just seems a little absurd all of a sudden. but it comes out as sort of a wet hiccup. Prompting Jon to tilt his head, and lock their lips together again.

Martin doesn’t know how long they stand in his entryway, trading kisses and just... being in each other's arms. But it’s long enough he’s run out of tears for Jon to try to kiss away, and the strange wired feeling has faded. Leaving him tired and heavy and in desperate need of a lie-down.

He pulls back, though not far. He can still feel Jon's lips against his as he speaks.

“Please don’t die again.” He says softly.

Jon sighs, pressing a small, chaste kiss against his lips.

“I’ll do my best,” he says, and Martin can feel the words as Jon's mouth brushes his as much as he hears them. And then he kisses Martin again, like he’s trying to seal the words there with his lips.

And, Martin supposes that promise was enough last time. It might be more than enough for him now.

[jimmys-zeppelin]

ghostin'

chapter fifteen

(table of contents)

(chapter fourteen)

june 26, 1976

"We're here today with Miss Ellie Saunders, singer and writer of the newest song going up in the pop charts, Songbird! Would you like to say hello to our audience, Ellie?"

"Hi, everyone! Thank you so much, Bill for having me on."

"Pleasure's all mine. Last time we had you in the studio was...two years ago with your single, Dreamer, isn't that right?"

"Very much so! Since then lots of things have changed." Ellie chuckled, reflecting on the past for a split second.

"Yeah, you were just a wide-eyed kid who had no idea what the business was like or where you were going. Nice to see you settled down. Now, you're with Led Zeppelin's guitarist, Jimmy Page, right? How's that working out with their constant touring?"

Ellie visibly tensed. If they were there to talk about Jimmy, they should have just called him on instead, but alas she was polite and answered the question. "Yes, Jimmy and I are together," she chuckled nervously, "Well, we manage our time pretty well. He's currently away doing his stuff and I'm working on my new album, but we find time to get a phone call in before bed...middle of the night," she laughed, "we find a way."

"Adorable, you two are. So this album of yours? Got a title yet? And what kind of songs are we going to see on it?"

"Not yet," Ellie answered, but quickly saved herself, "we have a working one, but even that's under wraps for now. As for songs, they're mostly just your regular old love songs I guess. The experimental piece was actually one I plan to release soon. I really hope my fans enjoy it. It took a lot to write it."

"And the title?"

Ellie looked over to Carolyn, who sat across the room puffing on a cigarette. The brunette nodded at the blonde, allowing her to speak on the song, "Well the song is called Sign of the Times. It's about seeing a change in someone you love and having to accept it. It could be with a wife, husband, lover, friend; anyone you hold dear who you just...can't help but worry about." She explained, getting lost in her own words as she thought about Jimmy. "As you can see I'm still a bit raw about it," Ellie lightly rubbed at her watering eyes.

"Do you miss your person?" Bill asked, suddenly becoming quite sincere.

Ellie met his gaze, nodding, "I do." she said, thinking of what lie to tell people to convince them she wasn't talking about her lanky, dark-haired boyfriend.

"Well, now onto what you're here for. Tell me about Songbird, then."

"Um, well...there was a slight bit of a rough patch lately that affected me a bit. I decided to get my trusty notebook out and spew out all the words that would come. And Songbird came out of that."

"Some beautiful acoustic on there, who did it?"

"I did! Jimmy's not the only one who's well-spoken in the ways of a guitar in this relationship. Although I did want him to come play on it for me, our schedules just didn't line up." She shrugged.

"Incredible. Well, here it is, folks. The new song by Ellie Saunders: Songbird." Bill said, fiddling with some buttons and getting his turntable ready before removing his headphones, "you can take those off now." he said.

Ellie removed the bulky headphones from her hair and held them idly in her lap as her song played out to the broader Los Angeles area. She knew it wasn't the first time a station had played the song in the week or so that it'd been out, but it was different knowing that she was right there while it was playing out to thousands of people. It was daunting if anything.

"Ellie that was great. Thank you so much for coming on!" Bill said, standing to shake Ellie's hand. The singer mirrored his actions and went in for a handshake, returning the favor.

"Thank you for asking me to come on. It was a pleasure. Maybe I'll come back when Sign of the Times comes out." She said with a wink.

"Of course," Bill replied, "tell me. In confidence; off the record. Is there a title for the new record?"

Ellie contemplated her honest answer, then exhaled through her nose in a laugh before answering, "No, actually. I have no idea what it's called. I've been so focused on writing songs that...I just haven't had time to think of a title, honestly." Ellie laughed as she spewed the honest truth.

Bill laughed out loud at the comment, giving Ellie a pat on the back, "Seriously, Ellie, come back any time. New song, new album, or if you just wanna chat with me for the morning segment. It would be great."

"Thank you so much, Bill." She repeated as she started picking up her bags. Carolyn put out her cigarette in an ashtray near the microphones and gave Bill a firm handshake. The women left the building shortly after.

After they'd been settled in the car to take them back to the studio, they finally got a chance to take a breather and relax. Things had been moving at a touch and go pace since finishing the two bigger singles. The rest of the songs still needed more, Ellie thought. It often occupied her mind just what she wanted to add to each song. That and Jimmy.

Not only was she concerned about him, she found herself getting increasingly more discouraged when she spoke with him. Like she was walking on eggshells when it came to a conversation with him. If either of them said the wrong thing, the other would get set off. Ellie found herself as more of the latter. She hated arguing while they were away from each other, but she couldn't help comment about his activities. He knew her disdain of it and it seemed there wasn't much else to talk they had to talk about since their days were full of nothingness lately.

☆

Andrew came over late that night. One more song on the album had been finalized and he deemed it enough to celebrate. Five of twelve songs completed, in case anyone was counting.

"Cheers to another amazing song by my best friend." Andrew said, raising a glass of some old whiskey Ellie had had hidden in her house since she'd moved in. The blonde could hardly remember who had given it to her. It seemed it just was a part of the house at that point.

They clinked glasses and each took a sip, both inevitably coughing and gagging at the taste and giggling at their reactions. Their conversation carried on until Ellie's eyes wandered to her stack of mail. Since getting home she hadn't had much time to give it a look so she gave each letter a once-over before focusing on Andrew again. That was the plan, at least.

However, a postcard caught her eye and she couldn't help but pick it up.

'Sunset Strip, Hollywood, California' Read the front as it was decorated with a photo of the infamous Sunset Strip at night. Ellie flipped over the postcard, her eyes quickly darting past the words that had been scrawled onto the paper.

'I recall you saying something about the Sunset Strip calling your name when we went out for dinner. How about we go out again sometime soon? You can be a Dreamer about life again. Call me when you get this. 213-xxx-xxxx

Hugs, Roger

P.S. Did you get the reference of your song that I used?

P.P.S. Ask for Simon Ferocious'

The blonde furrowed her eyebrows, but was delighted at the prospect that Roger would send her a postcard. She reached for the phone, starting to dial the numbers.

"What's up?" Andrew asked, taking another sip of the blasted whiskey, to which he exhaled sharply only seconds later. He set the cup down in disgust.

"It's Roger. He's in California. Told me to call him." Ellie replied, handing the man the postcard as his hands reached out for it. The line rang while Andrew exhaled through his nose, laughing at the corny jokes made in the letter.

"Ritz Los Angeles, my name is Angela. How can I be of service to you this evening?" The woman on the other line said. Ellie was taken aback slightly at the discovery of the Ritz's hotel having been the main point of contact for Roger.

"Uh, hi. I'm calling for a Simon Ferocious staying at your hotel." Ellie said, trying to hold back her laughter.

"And who's asking?" She asked.

"Say it's Mrs. Page. He'll know who it is."

"I'll put you through."

"Thank you."

Silence came through the phone before the Hold music shortly began. An ear-raping jazz number made Ellie put the phone down as soon as the music started.

"Simon Ferocious?" Andrew asked, having come back into the living room with a near-empty bottle of blush wine Ellie had been keeping in the fridge along with two flutes. She shrugged as he poured the rest out for the both of them as the infernal jazz finally came to an end.

"Mr. Ferocious for you, ma'am." The woman said.

"Thank you," Ellie paused waiting for the clicks before Roger's familiar rasp came through.

"Mrs. Page, hm?" Roger asked.

"I heard we weren't giving out our real names." Ellie laughed, twirling the phone cord around her finger. Her eyes followed Andrew as he walked over to her record collection beside the turntable.

"Well, I had good reason. I'm staying on the down low."

"Is that it? Who's Simon Ferocious, then?" she asked as the sounds of a song she couldn't quite place by Led Zeppelin came flooding through the speakers. The song was from a  special release pressing Jimmy had gifted her when Physical Graffiti was released the previous year. Close friends and family received them. Ellie had been honored to say the least.

Roger chuckled, "A guy looking to take you out to a show. Someone there with you?"

"Just Andrew. He's my best friend—"

"And I'm gay!" Andrew shouted across the room.

"Nothing to worry about." Ellie smiled, and though Roger couldn't see it, he could sense it.

"Right. Simon Ferocious is something Fred called Sid Vicious because he was bothering him one day in the studio," Roger laughed, "Ask him about it one day, he'll get so cross about it."

"I think I might. Feel like you're not doing the story justice." Ellie chuckled. "So is Mr. Ferocious going to take me out to a show?"  She asked as Andrew returned to his seat on the floor across from the singer, munching on a cracker that was sitting on a plate.

"I was hoping to today, actually. Then I heard you on the radio this morning and thought you might be busy."

Ellie apologized for the delay, "I got your postcard yesterday, I just didn't bother to look at my mail because it was all mixed with bills and other junk that it got lost. I'd ditch Andrew for you any night."

"Bitch!" The aforementioned man exclaimed, slapping Ellie on the shoulder with a push. A bubbly, hearty laugh left her throat as she fell back onto the floor.

Catching her breath, she confessed, "We're getting a little tipsy." she giggled. "How much longer are you in LA? I'll make it up to you."

"I leave on the 5th of July. I have to be back in London so we can start the new album."

"Well let's go to a Fourth of July celebration! I think my record label's throwing one. They're usually on top of some pretty rooftops. It'll make for a great view."

"It's a date then. Keep me posted on this...roof party."

"Didn't I give you my phone number, Rog?"

"..."

"Hm?"

"I dropped the slip of paper in a puddle on the day I got here. God's honest truth, El. Which is why I sent you a postcard."

"I'll entertain that story for a while...." she joked, "I can give it to you again, if you'd like."

"Yes please." Roger said sheepishly; a shuffling audible in the background.

"626...."

---

masterlist | playlist

Taglist: @diaryofafan17 @tophats-n-lespauls @witchesdust @jonesyjonesyjonesy @paginate54 @hejustsatisfiess @salixfragilis @princesspagey @reincarnated70sbaby @rebel-without-a-zeppelin @kyunisixx if you want to be added to the list lmk!

[popculturebuffet]

Goof Week: Sports Goofy in SoccerMania: GoofTales Woo-oo! (Paid For for WeirdKev27)

Gorsh all you happy people and welcome back to Goof Week, my Weeklong Celebration of everyone’s favorite goofus. 

And today we have a special treat, something nice and obscure but something that still has a vital place in Disney History. Welcome folks to Sports Goof in Soccermania!  

So yesterday in my Goof Troop review I wished there had been another DuckTales episode with Goofy, you know maybe find out what happened to Peg, see Max and Roxanne again that sort of thing.  Whelp SOMEONE must’ve hid a Monkey’s Paw around here somewhere because I got this special instead on comision. This is a VERY intresting little artifact as it came out only 4 months before DuckTales, was produced around the same time, and was written by Tad Stones, who would both go on to work on DuckTales and even more importantly create Darkwing Duck. 

Not only that but it has some odd things attached to it: it’s the first major production starting Scrooge, as he had an educational short about him, the first animated appearance of the Beagle Boys and most important the FIRST time Russi Taylor would voice Huey, Dewey and Louie, something she’d do till her passing a few years ago. At the time of this article she has not been recast, though I personally vote for Cristina Valenzuela, who took over the role of Young Donald and frankly does such a good job with that voice I didn’t know if Russi had already recorded lines for Season 3 before her passing. 

So what IS Sports Goofy in Soccermania you ask? It was a TV Special from 1987, again four months before DuckTales, that was later sold on VHS. My guess is Disney intended for this to become a regular thing like the Charlie Brown or Garfield specials, but my honest guess is with DuckTales MASSIVE success they wanted to put all the TV Animation resources into making more shows to go with it. The fact the special is essentailly a Scrooge story with Goofy in it and Scrooge and the Boys were now tied up in DuckTales probably helped the decision. So we only got one of these and i’m proud to share it for Goof Week. So join me under the cut to see what a Sports Goof is, what Scrooge sounds like without Alan Young or David Tennant andto see me refrence the film UHF because I likes it. 

 So we open with the titles which are neat and then open at the Money bin, we even get a great sign gag that looks like something Carl Barks would write.

So Scrooge greets his nephews the way he greets everybody.. with a canon to the face... though he backs of firing once he realizes it’s them. The boys ALL wear red this special so .. I guess Huey won and now rules all three bodies with an iron fist? So the Huey Hive Mind asks Scrooge for a donation, a standard Scrooge setup, ask the rich asshole for money, as their trying to help the local soccer program and they need a buck fiddy for a trophy. 

Scrooge’s voice here.. is terrible. I do not like to bash voice actors, they are hard working talented people who do a lot of great stuff, often for less pay than they deserve, and this blog ALWAYS makes that painfully clear. And Will Ryan is not without talent: While he hasn’t done much i’m familiar with he did play Petrie in Land Before Time and was great in it. So while I don’t dislike him as a person.. he did an utterly DREADFUL Scrooge. He dosen’t really attempt to do a scottish accent despite the character still saying cannae at one point, and as for what accent he is going for...

His Scrooge just sounds like someone trying to do a “foreign” accent and failing. It just sounds weird and makes every bit of his dialouge aside from one a chore to sit through. And the dialouge isn’t bad dialouge, it’s a well written and animated Scrooge even with the lower budget than Ducktales, but the voice just ruins it for me. Even without Young and Tennant to compare it to this just blows and the fact it’s paired up with the iconic Russi Taylor voice for the triplets.

This being Scrooge he instead fishes a Trophy out of the bin that’s all banged up and dinky and shoos them out. So in natural Barksian fashion the trophy turns out to be worth a million dollars. So we get some reaction shots.. INCLUDING GRANDMA DUCK!

For DuckTales fans joining us who have ZERO idea who that is, since she sadly did not make it into the reboot and Frank did have ideas, Grandma Duck is Donald, Della and Gladstone’s grandma. She’s a sweet old country woman who lives on a farm and is in fact the one who sold him Kilmotor HIll, with her husband renaming it from Killmule hill. I like her a lot since she reminds me of my own grandma and like her she still works when she can. Donald’s cousin Gus loafs around and eats as her farmhand. As you can tell I like her a lot, agani because she reminds me of one of my grandmas so this was nice even if she was only around for 20 seconds of screentime. 

This ends up in the paper and sends Scrooge through the roof, literally when he finds out. 

Two notes  before we move on: The bin has a unique really cool design , though I get why other productions haven’t used it: besides this one’s obscurity while cool it just looks a bit TOO nice for Scrooge. Even in 2017 while still damn cool looking it still looks practicle. This .. is not that.

This looks like MC Hammer built this. It still looks awesome bu tit’s just not Scrooge sadly. 

The other is that his Butler is named Jeeves here, but looks almost exactly like Duckworth. Just feels weird is all. 

Naturally the Beagle Boys happen upon the paper too and their leader, no name given has a plan: Enter legitmately and win the cup all legal like, which dosen’t sound like it lives up to the beagle code of no hones twork.... until he brings up theri going ot cheat their asses off. 

Meanwhile Scrooge tries bribing the boys with a giant trophy at their house... with Donald oddly absent despite Anselmo having taken over for Nash by this point. I know he was still a bit rough at the roll, but come on. It’s just.. weird especailly for reasons i’ll get into soon. 

So Scrooge agrees to sponsor the boys teams so he can get the trophy back square, and is forced to buy a knew ball and here we FINALLY get Goofy. I say finally because this special is 20 mintues long and it takes almost a fourth of it for him to arrive. It’s just weird for him to not be in it for so long. I mean I don’t want THIS

Flashbeagle didn’t take a fourth of the special to get to Flashbeagle. It did take longer than that to get to the title track but when your sitting on THIS

You gotta use it JUST right. Goofy here is not played by Bill Farmer, which IS odd as he did start playing him that year, but my guess is they weren’t sure if they were going with Farmer or the actor who played him in this special, Tony Pope, so they were trying out both as whoever DID get the role would have it for life. Disney takes the casting of the sensational 7 VERY seriously, as evidenced by the fact most cast changes are caused by death and unlike with Tony and Donald it’s clear Colvig hadn’t picked a succesor. I can also see why it’s a hard choice: while farmer IS excellent and was the right man for the job, Pope is still excellent in the role, bringing the warmth and energy you’d expect from Goofy and having excellent comedic timing that’s vital to getting the dog man right. I can see why this was such a hard choice, even if I also see they went with Farmer: Farmer just has slightly more energy to the roll. It’s a small diffrence and something that dosen’t effect the special, but it is a KEY diffrence and the reason Bill’s THE goofy to me even over his original voice actor Pinto Colvig. 

Also I may of mispoke there... see it’s not Goofy in this special it’s SPORTS Goofy. No really every bit of dialogue refers to him as Sports Goofy. It’d be like if they refered to then CEO Micheal Eisner as Won’t Think Through Eurodisneyland Micheal Eisner. 

So Sports Goofy helps them get a ball in an honestly awesome way and shows despite his clumsy manner, he’s damn cordinated, easily putting everything up and showing some real skill with the ball. So Moneygrubbing Scrooge decides Sports Goofy is his ticket to get the trophy back and recuits goofy as coach and star player for the boys team. 

So Asshole Scrooge meets his team the Greenbacks.. which are a bunch of random animal characters with no real personality. They are a hippo, a goat, expresso the ostrich, a navy (blue) seal,  an elephant in a beanie, a killaroo and a cheetah or leopard. But I have one question, really simple really easy one...

You need 11 players for a soccer team, thank you google. So they DID get that accurate. With Goofy and the Triplets you only need 7 more. THIS is why Donald’s absence is glaring: he’s just oddly not there when they needed 7 other characters but Elephant in a Beanie gets in there. And it’s not hard ot fill either: Donald , Daisy (Because duh), Gyro and Grandma Duck (Because both cameoed but I only mentioned Grandma Duck, though this is ALSO Gyro’s first apperance), Gladstone (who as it turns out had a cameo storyboarded that didn’t make it into the final product), Gus (Since grandma duck) and Scrooge’s butler since he was in an earlier scene anyway so why waste the character model. They could still play the same roll as easily steamrolled underdogs and it’d make more sense.  It just baffles me that with such a deep bench to play from, they don’t use ANY OF IT in favor of the cast of Animal Soccer World.

The Greenbacks can’t play for greenjack, which worries Scrooge.. but Goofy is able to carry them to the finals, while the Beagle Boys make their way there too. We find this out.. via newspaper transition. We get a bunch of headlines telling us what happened instead of you know a montage because that costs money and they already spent 1.50 making this special.. they only have 50 cents left. 

So the Beagles recognizing Sport Goofy is the only thing in their way plots a kidnappin. We get a gut busting scene of the beagles all hiding in Sports Goofy’s house with him being oblvious only to spring on him. 

The next day with Sports Goofy a no show the team is bummed, even mor ewhen they find a kidnapping note from Don’tGetNotToLeaveEvidence Beagle Boys. Seriously give that to the officals. 

So Asshole Scrooge tries to give a rousing speech... and it is a sight to behold and the one highlight of pope as scrooge... it’s why I picked it as the article image. That glitching isn’t me by the way: it REALLY does that. Coupled with the yellow eyes i’ts just fantastic. So the team decides to morosely play the game and Hivemind Huey boos scrooge for not having faith in him. Instead of again you know telling the officials. Maybe assimilating the other made Huey dumber. I

So the game begins and the Cheating Beagles cream the Give Up To Easily Green Backs, while Sports Goofy watches from the other Crime Beagles hideout. It honestly reminds me of UHF: a dumb well meaning guy whose vital to something succeding is kidnapped.. it dosen’t involve Weird Al dressing up as rambo but still. It also makes me want UHF but with the disney cast. Fethry as weird al, Donald as his best friend, Fethry’s girlfriend for the comcis as weird al’s girlfriend, Gyro as philo, Goofy as Stanley, and Pete of course is Stacey Keach. I could go on but you get the point. Someone draw this.  Sport Goofy is a clever bastard and escapes by working one of his shoes off, taking a nearbye knife and cutting himself free.. and almost stabbing a beagle boy in the face but that would just make two. Sport Goofy escapes and the lunkheaded beagle boys chase after him IN THEIR CAR WHILE GOOFY RUNS AHEAD OF IT.  Goofy, he can really move! Goofy, he’s got attitude! Goofy HE’S THE FASTEST THING ALLIIIIVEEEEEE. Sport Goofy makes it in time fo rhalf time, rallies the troops and it goes how you’d expect: They overcome the beagles blatant cheating, win the cup, the beagles attempt to cheat with a rigged ball backfires and they all get arrested. It’s by the numbers stuff. We end with Scrooge deciding to dontate the trophy instead (though in a great bit asking if it was tax deductible), and posing for a team shot> We get some awesome credits music and we’re out

Final Thoughts:

This special is mediocre: There are only a handful of great jokes, it’s your standard “teamwork makes the dreamwork plot” that dosen’t work because our underdogs really CAN’T play without their star, and Scrooge’s voice hurts to listen to. Pope and Taylor are great and while Will Ryan is an awful Scrooge, he is a good Beagle Boy or five. 

It IS worth a watch though. It’s riffable enough with the sometimes sloppy unfinished animatoin in the last part and Scrooge’s terrible voice, and it is still is a neat oddity for 90′s kids like myself to not only see Russi’s first thing as Huey Dewey and Louie, but to also see Scrooge and Goofy with vastly diffrent voice actors, as well as Gyro and the Beagle Boys first animated apperances. The fact this came just months before Ducktales makes it all the more intresting. So if your looking for a legit good Disney product.. this is shoddy at best if well meaning. But as a bit of disney history, especially only clocking in at 20 minutes so it’ sa brisk watch, it’s worth a look if your into that. 

Next On Goof Week: We come on in To The House of Mouse where goofy becomes faster than a speeding punchline,  more powerful than pete when his family has to wrestle him to the ground to take him to the doctor and able to make tall leaps of logic in a single bound. it’s SUPER GOOF!

So thank you for reading and if you liked this review give it a like and consider joining my patreon at patreon.com/popculturebuffet. As a patron you’d get access to exclusive reviews, the patreon’s discord and to pick a short each time I do one of these shortstaculars. Donald’s comnig next month and the deadline is in only a few days to join up for said month so the clock is ticking. Even a dollar a month helps me reach my stretch goals so please i fyou can sign up today and if not, I understand and i’ll see you at the next rainbow

[hiatus-for-forever]

Hitoshi Shinsou x Neko?Reader

Summary: Shinsou’s crush is tricked into eating something that turns her into a half-cat half-human

A/N: If you know where I got this idea and picture, we have to talk. So I was supposed to post this 2 days ago and I thought I did but I found it on my drafts and checked my acc and it wasn’t posted

Qurik: Not specified

Genre/Warnings: Fluff, cursing, lack of Bakugou

WC: 1,346

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a Wednesday when the group started scheming. The Bakusquad had been trying to help you and Shinsou get together, as pushy supportive friends do. You weren’t really part of their squad, you hung out with the casually and did so with the Dekusquad, and with everyone else. You were more of a social butterfly, spending time with anyone you felt like. 

Which is why you befriended Shinsou. You lost your way one day looking for the teacher’s lounge to give papers to your advisor, Aizawa. You went to the first person seemingly heading to the same direction as you and asked them for help. He was the guy. He questioned you if you knew who he was, assuming you knew he had a brainwash quirk. You said no, you were to busy preparing for your battle to watch his and Deku’s. 

You and he got close, everyone cheered him on but no one could lie that they were completely comfortable with him, and he could tell. You, on the other hand and quite a few people in Class A, were not afraid of him whatsoever. 

Even so, you were the kindest person he met. You would actually go out of your way to find him to eat lunch together, you would invite him to hangouts, often you being the one he stays with a lot during those. You were also pretty. Very pretty. You had received confessions before from other guys but turned them down. You were holding out for someone, you didn’t know who, but it was fairly obvious to everyone all around.

Everyone could tell you were in love with Shinsou, except for you and him, obviously, and they made it their mission to get you two together. You didn’t know why you were in love with him, I mean, you didn’t know you were in love with him, but still. Maybe it was his kindness towards you, reflecting yours to him, or maybe it was the general way he treated you. His comfort when you’re going through a rough time, or how much he radiated safety, you loved to be around him. You also trusted him with your life, he has never used his quirk on you without permission and when he did it was always jokingly to steal your snacks. It was never a big deal. 

He loved you for the same things. You were one of the first people he met who trusted them fully. You two got along really well, only having fights when t’s about each others health or grades. You two were protective of each other as well, he often got jealous of all the men confessing to you and you would scold him if he slept too late. He found it endearing because it showed how much you cared for him.

Anyway, this Wednesday your friends were plotting a scheme. There was a new product being sold in a bakery exclusive to Musutafu, it was a quirk-infused cookie that could temporarily make you part-human, part-animal. It came with a wavier that you have to sign and it would last 12 hours. There are cookies to make you part dog, cat, bunny, and even panda. It was also pretty expensive, it cost the same as a pack of cookies but instead it was only a small square cookie. 

Yaoyorozu was the one who bought it as a favor to Ashido and she and Kirishima planned it and asked the group to go along with the plan. They explained that they would invite you on a hangout and you would obviously bring Shinsou with you and they would make an excuse for you to eat the cookie and you would turn into a cat. 

“Wait why a cat?” Kaminari asked

“CUZ! Shinsou likes cats and we’ll force him to take care of Y/N” Ashido explained

“How do you know he likes cats?” Kaminari asked, not paying attention to anything

“Y/N talks about him all the time” Yaoyorozu sighed, “Anyway, this should be enough for a cookie” she said, handing them bills from her wallet

They all thanked her with a promise of telling her how it goes before leaving and perfecting their plan.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Saturday eventually rolled around, you got Shinsou to join you and the group and you all were on a train to wherever the next stop is. You sat next to Shinsou, him not as familiar with this group of people as he is with Midoriya’s. He looked over your shoulder as you scrolled through Twitter, looking at the shit that was on your feed. You both snickered whenever you saw something funny, only fueling the determination your group had to set you two up.

The train stopped moving at one point and both of you had gotten up. You held his wrist, not to letting him stray away as he did once before, and guided him to the exit. You all left the train station and went to the closest cluster of food stalls and vendors, hoping to find food and stuff to look at or even waste money on. 

You and Shinsou walked together ahead due to your constant pulling. You went to every stall, guided by the smell, and looked at other cute stuff to buy, dragging Shinsou along with you. The group behind you went to enact the scheme, knowing how Shinsou’s eyes were glued to you as you moved about, cheerful and full of energy contradicting the tired demeanor you held toward the end of the weekdays. He looked at you with so much adoration his eyes could turn into hearts. 

When you had the idea to go look for a restaurant to have lunch in, you had lead the group to a space with less people, stopping at the front of a sushi place. Ashido had pulled the cookie wrapped in plastic out of her bag, before jogging lightly to catch up to you. 

“Hey Y/N, I saw this as a free sample and I thought you missed it, do you want it?” she asked

She knew you loved getting free samples, because of course you do. You thanked her and unwrapped the cute cookie. It was a small square with a cute cat design on it. You immediately stuffed it in your mouth, wondering why the group was just standing around. The cookie tasted strange, it was sweet like a normal sugar cookie with the royal frosting on top but there was an underlying bitter and somewhat fishy taste.

Before you could ask you felt something weird, you felt your ears shift and you’re hearing had sharpened, your vision had changed too, it was weird. Some shadows had become lighter, as if they weren’t there, and reds looked more like greens as purples had dulled to blues. An unknown weight was felt in your lower back as you felt something on your body. Nothing was on your legs or arms so you didn’t know where your new limb was. 

You were gonna ask what the hell they gave you before your hands started to tingle. Your wide eyes went to your hands, they had fur all over and contorted to be smaller and... cuter. They were paws. Oh shit. Finally you felt the same tingling sensation on each side above your lips, knowing that these were probably whiskers.

“THE FUCK” you exclaimed

Your group was all excited though, “Woah, it worked!” and “I haven’t seen that” was tossed around

Your eyes went to Shinsou’s, who was also as shocked as you were, “Did you know about this?” 

“No, what the hell happened to you?”

“She turned into a cat!” Ashido said excitedly

“The fuck did you give me?” you said in a normal volume not liking the loud sound

“It was a cookie that made you into a cat-person! It lasts 12 hours!” Sero explained

“12 hours? I’m screwed” you said

“Oh yeah and you should start acting like a cat soon too” Kaminari added

You exhaled exasperatedly and looked at them with tired but mad eyes, “Ugh let’s just eat our lunch before any of that happens” 

You walked inside and got a booth next to the window, you sat next to Shinsou a little closer than needed with a gap that separated you and Kaminari. Shinsou sat next to the window, the quietest option available, with Ashido in front of him, Sero, Kirishima and Bakugou next to her in that order. 

Your sense of smell had actually gotten stronger and you could sniff out the scent of Shinsou’s cologne, which is probably why you sat so close to him. He didn’t complain though, he was enjoying the lack of space between you two, deciding to not let the opportunity slide, he just let it happen. He loved being this close to you anyway, he liked seeing the twitch of your nose and the small smile that played on your lips. 

The moment was cut short by the waiter coming to take your order, Shinsou was too busy staring at you and you were too busy sniffing him (not in a weird way), so you had just fumbled and ordered the first item you saw on the menu. It was salmon sashimi, nothing you hadn’t tasted before so you wouldn’t have to worry about not liking it. Shinsou ordered the same thing, slightly panicked and unprepared.

You had turned to Shinsou, talking about the stupid things these guys do including turning you into a neko. He had, in turn, complimented the soft paws, admitting they were cure and pressing lightly on the soft pads that had triggered the claws and caused them to pop up. You did admit it was kinda cool, you could hear better and your senses were hightened. In exchange the color’s were a little weird and your pants had to be pushed down to let the tail out.

The light chatter continued until the food came and only then did you realize the problem. You tried to pick up your chopsticks but it took both of your paws to keep them from falling, and even so, you couldn’t manipulate it to pick up food. Everyone had noticed but no one wanted to help you, “Hey can someone help?” you asked, annoyed

Everyone just looked down at their food and at each other, making it known that they were ignoring you. You huffed, trying again to pick up the pair of chopsticks, but before one could fall from your paws Shinsou had gotten them from you, using their to bring a piece of salmon to you lips. You muttered a ‘thank you’ as someone finally decided to help and let him feed you, taking the piece into your mouth. 

He placed your chopsticks down using his own to eat his food. It wasn’t until you had asked him to feed you again did he comply, putting a piece to your mouth, not noticing how Ashido had snapped a picture of you. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and your group were back on the train, it was almost empty except for the seven of you. The time spent on the outing had been cut short due to your angered demand to go back to the dorms. You sat next to Shinsou, the rest of the group across from you because you were mad at them. You had latched onto his arm all day out of instinct and you enjoyed it, tail going side to side, despite being infuriated with you other friends.

He kept touching your whiskers curiously, coming back to tickle them even as you swatted his hands away. Your nose twitched in annoyance as his fingertips came in contact with the sensitive whiskers again, you sighed, “Stop” you whined. 

“I thought you liked that,” he said, confused, “I’m tryng to cheer you up ‘cuz you’ve been grumpy”

“It tickles then it becomes itchy,” you explained, leaning your head on him and rubbing against it, both a comforting feeling and a slightly possessive one, as you felt the need to mark him with your scent

“Hmm,” he put a finger on hid chin, thinking of how to turn your upset mood around, “lie down”

You didn’t know why he would ask this off you, but still you complied. You lay your head on his lap, hyper aware of your friends’ eyes on you but paying no mind to it nonetheless. Shinsou held an obnoxiously long hoodie string over your head, you squinting for a second before getting the urge to disturb its still state.

You hit it with your paw making it swing. The momentum was too steady and slow for you so you hit it again, and again, and again, not letting it return to its resting form. Shinsou eyes you, pupils like thin slits as you glared at the string, toying with it adorably. The others watched bemusedly at your battle with the long hoodie string and this time, you couldn’t notice them at all.

It wasn’t until you heard Shinsou’s chuckle did your attention turn away from the dangling target. You looked at him, bewildered at your own actions. You then realized you were acting like a cat, your attitude and urges similar to theirs. You sat back up, glaring at the floor, “Damn, I am a cat now.” You looked back at your friends “How long did you say this lasts?”

“Twelve hours” Shinsou replied from beside you. 

You groaned, “Is there something else I can eat to reverse this?”

Ashido looked slightly guilty, she thought you would enjoy this more and to think she made you upset made her upset. “Why do you hate t anyway? It’s not thta bad. It’s actually pretty cute” she chirped, “other than the fact you’re more territorial now”

“Am not!” you snapped

“Yes you are! You won’t let anyone get near Shinsou!” Kaminari objected

“That is not true!” you said back

Ashido sauntered over to you and Shinsou “If it’s not then you wouldn’t mind if I claim this, would you” she tilted Shinsou’s head up and leaned in close

“What are you doing?” Shinsou whispered, a scowl on his face

You looked at them, mortified. Ashido noticed the change in your expression and her eyes widened. With her reflexes, she instantly moved back to doge your claws, barely, as you were able to slice of a few strands of hair. Your growling had effectively made her back off as you straddled Shinsou’s lap, closing your eyes with a slight frown and crashed your lips onto his. 

Ignoring his yelp as you pulled him closer, kissing him harder. He eventually wrapped his arms around you as you grinned at your new claim. Once you pulled away you buried your face in the crook of his neck, rubbing your scent glands around his, making a silent promise, ‘You’re mine’

[remmushound]

Curse of the Clans part 13! @scentedcandlecryptid @selfindulgenz

Leonardo kept his promise. The jet lag from his normal, nocturnal lifestyle proved to be an advantage to the plan he had Usagi had set out. In the night, when Usagi and Nuriyuki would rest, Leonardo was awake and rested enough to pull them along through the dark. Come morning, Usagi was an early riser and he would take over while Leonardo slept through the warmth of day. Together, they were making exceptional progress. After three days into nonstop walking over the harsh, frozen ground, Leonardo wasn’t sure how much more of it he could take. The snow and the rough terrain had burned calluses into his feet and hands, and staying awake through the cold was proving more difficult with each passing night. But moving would be warmer than staying still, he figured, and he had no intention of breaking his promise to Usagi or being late to meeting his brothers.

He was desperate to rest. Not desperate enough to stop, but enough to slow. Enough to cry, but only when he was sure Usagi wasn’t listening. He barely let himself cry, not in front of anyone that wasn't family— barely even in front of them! The fun guy shouldn’t be seen crying or be seen giving up because he wasn’t giving up! He was just tired and sore and burning, too much so to even entertain himself with his usual commentary. This was the type of stuff that builds character, right? He wondered bitterly when that would start to take hold.

His mouth was dry. He stuck out his tongue to catch falling snow on it, hoping that could quench his thirst, but it was too little too slow. He knew it wouldn’t cost him much time to simply stop and get a bottle of water out of the cart, but he knew that if he stopped he wouldn’t be able to start again. He knew his muscles would give out on him, and he knew he’d end up falling asleep if he rested for more than a few seconds. He didn't know why they needed to take the cart with them in the first place when it was so damn heavy—

Leonardo stopped the cart. He cursed himself the minute he realized he had, but it was too late. His aching muscles were already screaming their praise and encouragement at him to just lay down and sleep. His eyelids became heavy like cinder blocks trying to weigh him down. Then he heard the sound again that had stopped him in the first place and the conscious and animal sides of his brain were both at war; the conscious side won, and he started to look around.

This night was darker than the night he was used to back home, but he had the advantage of a lit lantern on each side of the harness to light the path and guide him like some twisted version of Rudolph and Santa’s sleigh. Beyond the circle of light that offered him shelter, the trees were dark and ominous, and the sky a beautiful shade of dark purple with a few twinkling stars poking through the clouds. If Leonardo had ears, they would have been pricked at attention. There was only one thing that noise could be: footsteps.

From the corner of his peripherals, Leonardo could see Usagi sit straight up in the cart like Dracula out of his coffin, his eyes searching around the darkness for any sign of movement. Once he was sure there was no immediate danger, he hopped out of the cart and went to Leonardo’s side, providing him with his Odachi.

“Stay here with Nuriyuki.”

“What?” Leonardo gawked, “Come on! I can help!”

“I’m sure you can.” Usagi whispered back to him, his ears and eyes still on a constant swivel. “But I need you to stay here with Nuriyuki. You know what is at stake. They’re after him, not me.”

“But—” Leonardo tried with a soft whimper in his voice.

“I’ll be back. Just please, keep him safe.” For the first time, Usagi forsook his eyes! wandering search to let them settle on Leonardo. There was nothing but genuine trust in the rabbit samurai’s eyes, watering but not quite crying. “Please.”

Leonardo found himself unable to reject the eyes that held so much emotion in them, and his response came with an awkward bow that he hadn’t quite mastered the art of yet. He never had to do such a thing for most of his life, and the only reason he knew so much about it was from the Lou Jitsu movies! Usagi’s lips curled into a smile before he ran off into the darkness, and into a fight that Leonardo could hear but not see.

Nuriyuki still hadn’t woke and Leonardo was glad for it. He climbed back into the cart, the exhaustion leaking out of him and leaving him tense and unsure. He hated feeling this way. He didn't belong on the sidelines, listening to the yells and shouts of strain and pain as Usagi fought who knew how many in the surrounding darkness. But Leonardo sat there and held Nuriyuki for as long as it took for Usagi to send the offenders fleeing.

The next night it was the same. The noise, Usagi waking. Leonardo being left with Nuriyuki, hugging him through the fight and hoping he wouldn’t wake. Nuriyuki gave a soft grunt at the strange texture of Leonardo’s thick skin and the residual cold from the turtle walking in the snow, but he eventually snuggled up to the mutant for the comfort of his presence.

The next night and the next were the same. Leonardo was growing angry and frustrated, Every time Usagi came back from the fight, he was covered in scratches or missing fur or bruises. Once he had even come back with a claw broken down to the nail bed, bleeding profusely into the snow until Leonardo figured out a way to clean and bandage it. Leonardo was always glad to play medic, even if he wanted to be out there protecting Usagi from the new ninja that stalked them every night. Night four was different.

The fight went on for longer than usual, and this time Nuriyuki woke up. The sounds of cries and shouts and flesh striking against flesh. Metal against flesh. He whimpered and clung tighter to Leonardo’s shell, his short arms not quite able to reach around the length of the plastron, but it was enough for comfort. Leonardo wrapped his arms around Nuriyuki, squishing him in a comforting embrace. Silence reigned for the longest time. Then came a rustle of bushes getting closer and closer to them.

“Usagi?” Leonardo called out to the forest, to no reply. Still hugging the badger cub, Leonardo clambered out of the cart and into the grass. He tried to see past the shadows of the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of the familiar, floppy eared samurai.

“Lenado, I’m scared…” Nuriyuki whimpered; he still hadn’t quite gotten the hang of Leonardo’s name.

“It’s okay…” Leonardo caught the glimpse of a figure just before it ducked down out of sight. It was close; too close for his comfort. Definitely not Usagi. “Okay… okay. Hang on.”

Leonardo felt he had no choice but to run, and the moment he started sprinting, Nuriyuki in his arms and the cart forgotten, the bushes exploded with life. Life that was a threat and gaining on them fast. Leonardo crushed Nuriyuki tighter to his chest, squinting his eyes against the stinging buffer of wind. He was the fastest of his brothers— surely the fastest in New York, even when compared with the other mutants! But he was nothing compared to this.

Already he could see the silhouettes at both sides of him. Leonardo’s heart skipped several beats when he witnessed the kappa running after him; like some weird hybrid between a turtle and a duck, the dark green skin and the shell entirely terrapin, despite the ducks Bill on their faces.

Leonardo stopped with such a suddenness that he fell flat on his back, still holding Nuriyuki tightly and absorbing most of the impact so the only thing the badger got was a sudden jolt. Still, that was enough to make him start crying. Leonardo grabbed his odachi, forcing Nuriyuki behind him as he held the blade out to the enemies that had made their way in front of him. Each of them wore a long bonnet over their heads, covering their water dishes to prevent leakage; at least, that was Leonardo’s fleeting theory.

“You don’t wanna do this.” Leonardo said with a smile. “My sword? Waaaaay bigger than yours!”

The creatures exchanged curious looks, their breaks crinkling in laughter at the smaller turtle's decree.

They started to advance. Leonardo really didn't feel up to fighting. He was holding his odachi so tightly that the sores on his hand burst open again and started to bleed, but the pain was hardly felt. His focus was entirely on the enemy, eyes searching for advantages even at the distance. One was favoring their right leg, but only slightly; enough to cause a limp, with no clear wound or distress. An old childhood injury maybe. Another seemed skinny, muscles there but not as defined as one would expect for an experienced soldier, and with eyes wide and bright. A rookie. The third one was harder to read, but Leonardo didn't need to. He gave his odachi a twist and ran into battle.

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

Rewind Chapter 4 - Fiddleford to the Rescue

Stan started when there was a sharp knocking at the front door. He hadn’t thought anyone was coming – but evidently Ford had known, because he jumped up to let them in. The person who stepped inside was a twig of a man, carrying a duffel bag in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. The guy looked pretty tired – sorta like those people who sometimes slept under the jetty with bloodshot eyes and cans scattered around them. But this man didn’t reek of beer and cigarettes. Blue eyes darted around behind thick glasses before landing on Stan and softening.

“Ah. This is your brother, I ‘spect?” The stranger spoke with a thick accent. Stan hadn’t heard an accent like his before.

“Yes. Thank you for coming.” Ford was a flurry of motion, darting here and there and packing things in a big shoulder bag. “I need to go, I have to get this barrier up as soon as possible. I should be back by this evening. There’s food in the fridge, I’m not sure what bills I’ve paid recently so there may or may not be hot water, and Stanley, behave!”

With that Ford disappeared, the front door slamming behind him. Stan froze, voice squeaking in a totally cool and manly way.

“Wait – Ford? Where are you-”

Yeah, he was already gone. Leaving Stan alone with this strange man. Stan stood self-consciously in the middle of the lounge, hyper aware of those eyes on him. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

The stranger broke the silence first, kneeling down to be at eye-level with Stan. “You must be Stanley. I guess Ford forgot ta introduce us. Wouldn’t be the first thing ‘e forgot.” The guy smiled a slightly crooked smile and held out one hand. “I’m Fiddleford, an old… friend of ya brother’s. I’m here to look after ya for a while. Is that okay?”

“…I guess so.” Stan stepped forward hesitantly to shake the man’s hand. Despite its thinness his hand was rough and calloused, worn with work. His smile was infectious and Stan found himself mirroring it. “You can call me Stan. Everyone does.”

“Well then, you can call me Fidds.” Fiddleford’s bright eyes combed over him for a moment before the man started riffling through his duffel bag. “Now, I got some old clothes of my son’s that I figure will fit better than that shirt. You wanna give it a shot?”

Stan nodded eagerly. “Yeah! Who’s your son? Is he coming too?”

“No, Tate’s in California right now.” The man lifted a couple items of clothing. “Alright, let’s take a looksee at what we got.”

 Stanford’s little brother was cute as a button. Well, twin brother apparently, not that that made much of a difference right now. The boy was all gap-toothed grins and twinkling eyes and curious questions. Fiddleford let him choose some clothes he liked – a pirate shirt and a pair of faded yellow shorts – and helped the little kid get dressed. Stan chatted excitedly the whole time.

“S’weird! I just woke up here yesterday and Ford was all old. He’s grumpier now too. So if this is the future how do we know you? When do I meet you? We probably haven’t met yet while I’m this age right? No, I think I’d remember seein’ you even if you were a kid like me! You got a mem-or-ab-le nose. Kinda like mine!” Stan poked his own pink nose to demonstrate. “’Cept mine and Ford’s are wide and yours is long. Does your son have the same nose?”

Fiddleford laughed and slipped the shirt over the squirming boy’s head. There were so many questions, he figured he’d try and answer them in order.

“Ford is grumpy now, isn’t he? And I’m a friend of Ford’s from college. This is the first time we’ve met at all, so you wouldn’t know me even as an adult with all yer memories. And Tate does have my nose, unfortunately.”

Stan blinked up at him owlishly. Fiddleford smoothed down his ruffled cowlick. “So… you know Ford but not me? Why doesn’t future-me know you?” Then Stan shook his head with a smile. “You said college, right? I bet that’s why! Pa says I’m too stupid for college. But o’course Ford got in. He’s real smart, ya know!” The kid finished proudly. Fiddleford hesitated.

“Your father says…” Stanford hadn’t spoken much of his family. Fiddleford was starting to see why. The idea of a man telling his son – his son who couldn’t be any older then twelve – that he was stupid filled his chest with fire.

Fiddleford tried to stamp out the anger before Stan could see it on his face. No sense in scaring the child. Instead he changed the subject, carefully poking at one of Stan’s hands.

“So, ya got hands like ya brother’s?”

“Oh, no, I just got the borin’ five fingers.” Stan waggled his fingers to demonstrate.

“Really?” Well that was interesting. “But yer practically identical otherwise! Well, I guess it makes sense that yer not totally the same, seein’ as you don’t have the same eyesight anyway.”

“Oh, we do.” Stan chirped, leaving Fiddleford flabbergasted.

“But ya don’t have glasses!”

“Oh yeah, I don’t need em ‘cause I’m not smart.” Stan’s smile faltered for a moment before recovering. “Pa says glasses are expensive and Ford needs his, so I don’t. Hey, you got glasses too! You must be smart.”

Fiddleford once again tried very hard to not let his anger show. He must not have done a very good job, because Stan shrank back.

“Er – I’m sorry?”

Darn it, and he’d been trying to get the little tyke to trust him! Fiddleford forced an apologetic smile on his face.

“You got nothin’ to apologize for. I was just thinkin’ I’d like to have a word with yer brother when he gets back.”

Stan still looked dubious, so Fiddleford tried another strategy.

“You know, I reckon Ford’s gotta have a spare set of glasses lying around. Do you wanna look for ‘em, borrow ‘em for a while? The prescription should be close enough. I got some old books a’ Tates you might like and it’ll be easier if you can see ‘em.”

Stan twisted his hands together. “I dunno. Ford got pretty mad when I messed with his stuff before.”

“He’ll be fine. Besides, I’m just as adult as him. I think I can make decisions without that worrywart around.”

Just as Fiddleford had thought he would, Stan laughed. “Yeah, he is a worrywart! An’ Ford’s let me borrow his glasses before when we were switchin’ clothes to play a prank on Crampelter. So he can’t get mad now!”

The kid seemed to have immediately forgotten about his upset. That made Fiddleford’s smile come a little easier, a little warmer.

“Well, now that that’s settled, how about we go look for those glasses? And we’ll see if you like any a’ these books. Ya feel like learnin’ about isopods?”

“I have no idea what that is!” Stan whooped.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

 _______________________________________________________________

It was nice, Fiddleford reflected, having a child around. He hadn’t interacted with kids since he’d last seen Tate. How long ago had that been…?

Fiddleford made sandwiches for lunch, and they ate while flipping through picture books. Stan especially liked the one with krill and whale sharks. Then the kid had started telling delightful stories about old ships and adventures on Glass Shard Beach, and who was Fiddleford to interrupt?

By evening Stan had worn himself out, and Fiddleford made him a cup of hot chocolate while he decided what to fix for dinner. Of course Ford had little in the way of food. There was some frozen and tinned stuff, but little in the way of healthy foods. Stanford was terrible at taking care of himself.

Fiddleford glanced out of the window at the ever-darkening sky. Sure, he was still hopping mad at Stanford, but… he couldn’t help but worry. Not when the man had been gone all day in the snow. And when his adorable little brother was getting antsy.

“Fidds, when’s Ford gettin’ back?” Stan whined, right on time. “You said he’d be back soon.”

Fiddleford busied himself with looking in the fridge. There were some assorted vegetables lying around, wrinkled with age but not rotten – he could make fritters. Satisfied, he started gathering the ingredients.

“He’ll get here when he gets here.” Fiddleford rooted around until he found a grater. Stan sulked into his hot chocolate. He certainly had Stanford’s stubbornness! Fiddleford wondered if it was a family trait.

As if on cue, there was a commotion outside the front door. Fiddleford tensed. It swung open, and thankfully a familiar figure trudged inside.

“Ford!” Stan squealed in delight. He scrambled from the kitchen table to throw himself at his brother’s legs. Ford, looking snow-flecked and rather frazzled, patted his head absently.

“Yes, yes, hello Stanley. Fiddleford.”

Fiddleford rolled his eyes and continued making the fritters. Trust Stanford to make a dramatic entrance. Still, he eyed the man as he took off his snow-covered coat and boots. Stanford looked… rough. Not physically, but exhaustion was etched into every line on his face.

Fiddleford tutted and poured the man a coffee. Ford blinked as it was pushed into his hand.

“Oh – thank you, Fiddleford.”

“Didja meet the unicorn?” Stan pulled on his brother’s shirt, his own tiredness evidently forgotten in his excitement. Ford sighed.

“Yes, though she still stubbornly refuses to give me any of her hair. I did manage to obtain the rest of the ingredients though, so as soon as I get the hair I’ll be able to ward the house.”

Unicorn hair? Fiddleford was confused for all of two seconds before he shrugged it off. With Stanford, everything was a surprise. You just learned to roll with it.

And now that Ford was here…

“Stan, wouldja do me a favour?” Fiddleford asked gently. Stan nodded. “There should be a blanket up in the closet upstairs, all red and gold with snowflakes printed on it. It’s my favourite one. Could you go get it for me?”

“Sure.” Stan chirped, darting out of the room. Ford made a sound of confusion.

“I don’t remember that blanket.”

“’Course ya don’t, I made it up as an excuse to get Stan out of the room.” Fiddleford put down the grater and turned to meet Ford’s wary gaze from across the kitchen bench.

“…okay.” Ford said. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Stanford.” Fiddleford fixed him with a serious look. “Yer little brother’s a good kid.”

Ford sighed. “Twin brother. We’re twenty-seven.”

“Well right now he’s just seven. And you’d better not mess ‘im up. I’m watchin’ you.” He added with narrowed eyes.

Ford laughed nervously. “Honestly, what do you take me for?”

“A scientist who’s obsessed with his work and has no idea how to care for a child, ‘specially not a child who’s been abused.”

Ford’s eyes widened. “Abused? I can assure you that Stanley hasn’t been abused.”

“I beg to differ!” Fiddleford said sharply. Ford had the audacity to look insulted. “With what the kid’s been tellin’ me, there’s no way he hasn’t been abused. For god’s sake, he doesn’t have glasses when he needs ‘em! And ‘e flinches when I so much as raise my voice – or my hand, for that matter. E’s got bruises all over, too. What am I supposed to think?”

“Stanley… he refuses to wear his glasses.” Ford said weakly. Fiddleford snorted.

“He’s been usin’ yer spare ones all day. Says ‘e likes bein’ able to see for once. In fact, he basically said yer father refused to buy ‘im glasses after his old pair got broken!”

“He’s been wearing my-?”

“Of course you didn’t notice. Have ya even laid eyes on the kid?”

“Of course I have.”

“So you did notice him wearin’ your spare glasses? No wonder ‘e thinks he’s stupid, he can’t read the words on a page two inches from his nose!”

Ford looked devastated. Right now, Fiddleford didn’t care. “But… no, that’s not right. Stanley always told me he hated wearing them.”

“Even besides that, what about the bruises?” Fiddleford challenged. “The kid’s covered in ‘em. And I’m givin’ you the benefit of the doubt here, because I don’t believe you’re the one who’s been roughin’ him up.”

“I – I-”

“So you’ll forgive me for bein’ a little concerned here! What kinda father would I be if I just sat back and ignored this? Yer brother’s been abused, plain and simple.”

Ford floundered. Fiddleford sighed, a little of his anger evaporating.

“Well... I suppose if ya are really twins, ya probably wouldn’t have had a hand in it. An’ I don’t know the full story. But I do know this.” He leveled a finger at Ford’s face. “That kid trusts ya, more than he probably should. An’ we’re gonna have words if you hurt him, or put him in danger, or do anything that’ll cause him harm. The boy’s suffered enough, I’ll not stand around and let it happen again. Ya understand?”

“Yes.” Stanford said quietly. “Yes, I do.”

“Good. Now that’s outta the way, I gotta ask; why on earth didja not tell me about him before? We went to visit Shermie and his kids during that Christmas break a while back an’ no one mentioned another brother.”

Stanford flushed. “It’s… a family matter.”

Fiddleford leveled a cold stare at him. After a moment Ford sighed and averted his gaze.

“When we were teenagers Stanley sabotaged my one chance at getting into my dream college. He says it was an accident, but… anyway our father kicked him out and I haven’t heard from him since.”

Fiddleford held up a hand. “Hang on. Are my ears decievin’ me? You’re telling me your brother, who got booted outta his own home as a teenager, hasn’t been mistreated? My friend, you’ve got issues.”

Ford opened his mouth to argue, but he was cut off by Stan’s return. Fiddleford turned his attention to the sheepish boy who was currently wringing his hands and wincing at the doorway. “Um, sorry Fidds. I couldn’t find it.”

“That’s alright, I musta left it somewhere else. Now, didja wanna help me with makin’ dinner?”

Stan perked up at Fiddleford’s breezy tone, as if surprised he wasn’t in trouble. “Jeez! Can I?”

“Well sure, why wouldn’t you?” Fiddleford flashed the boy a smile. Stan beamed in return and scrambled to join him in the kitchen.

“Pa says cookin’s for ladies and we shouldn’t do it.”

“Well, your Pa seems to be wrong about a lotta things. Now, you know how ta use a grater? I’ll show you.”

Fiddleford could feel Ford’s gaze searing into his forehead. He flicked his attention up from Stan and cooking, just for a moment, to catch the conflicted stare. Ford looked away when their eyes met and cleared his throat.

“I’ll just – um – put these ingredients away for later.”

“You do that.” Fiddleford agreed coolly.

Stanford walked away, more subdued than usual. The sight of his slumped shoulders was enough to send a spark of guilt through Fiddleford’s chest. He knew he was being too hard on the guy – especially with how wrecked Ford was looking – but his blood boiled for this gap-toothed child with his cute curls and nervous laughs.

Fiddleford couldn’t comprehend the idea of kicking out his son. The idea was as foreign to him as the idea that they should all put sticks of butter under their hats and walk on their hands instead of their feet. Tate was his son – his boy, his child. Fiddleford was sure that there was nothing Tate could do that would made Fiddleford throw him out. The idea of Stanley and Stanford’s father kicking out a helpless teen? No matter what mess that teen had gotten himself into, it shouldn’t have happened. He felt a fierce protectiveness rise up in him.

No, and it most certainly wouldn’t happen again. No kid was getting kicked out on his watch. Nor hurt, even unintentionally by an oblivious scientist of a brother. Fiddleford would make sure of it.

He made sure both the Pines boys were fed before packing up his things with the promise of returning tomorrow. Stanley hugged his legs with a surprisingly strong grip – Fiddleford crouched down to return the hug properly.

“I had a real good time today. We’ll have to do this again some time, huh? Now, you got my phone number? Good. Call me if you need anything. Especially if that brother of yours gets into any trouble, okay?”

“Yes sir!” Stan saluted enthusiastically. Fiddleford laughed and ruffled his hair before glancing up to meet Stanford’s eyes. Ford was hovering in the doorway, seemingly unsure of whether to join them.

Fiddleford took pity on him and offered his old friend a smile. “I’ll see ya later, Stanford. Take care of ya brother.”

Ford smiled back nervously. And maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.

 _______________________________________________________________

Stanford couldn’t smother the huge yawns that bubbled out of him. Curse this sleep deprivation! It made everything harder than it had to be. His sentences kept being interrupted by his own body’s involuntary reflexes.

Stanley followed him like a baby duck – a rather apt description, actually – while Ford bustled around the house. Ford sighed in annoyance when he very nearly tripped over his brother yet again, upon doubling back to retrieve a piece of equipment he’d forgotten.

“Stanley, shouldn’t you be in bed?”

Stan glanced away and rubbed his arm. “Well, I guess. But every time I go to sleep I get these weird dreams. I dunno, I was kinda hoping I could hang out with you?”

Dreams – dammit, Ford had forgotten to warn his brother! He dropped down to be at eye-level with Stan, who blinked at the sudden movement.

“Uh, what-?”

“You’re having odd dreams, correct?” Stan nodded so Ford continued. “Rest assured, they won’t be able to harm you, so long as you never make a deal. If you come across anything triangular or yellow while in a dream you must not talk to it. It will talk to you and try to be your friend. Don’t trust anyone with yellow eyes, even if – no, especially if that person is me. Don’t talk to it and never shake its hand. Do you understand?”

“Um, yeah, but why? This is all soundin’ like Ma’s predictions.” Stan perked up. “Can you tell the future too? Does that mean I can as well?”

Ford sighed. “No, I can’t tell the future.”

“…can you make the weird dreams go away?” Stan questioned hesitantly.

“Yes, when I manage to get that unicorn hair – though I fear it may be a hopeless endeavor.” The weight of the day’s events – how could he ever hope to be pure of heart with all the wrong he had done? – sat heavily on his shoulders. Ford lifted a hand to rub at his forehead. “Go to bed, Stanley, and remember what I said about people with yellow eyes.”

“Yeah, yeah, never make a deal, I get it.” Stan paused, eyes flickering to the journal resting in Ford’s pocket and lighting up. “Can you tell me some more stories from your book before bed? Yesterday we got to the hidey-thing!”

“I don’t have time to read you stories, I have important work to do.”

Stan pouted. He looked up at Ford with those big brown eyes that were bigger than usual. It was then that Ford noticed the glasses – yes, Fiddleford had mentioned them, hadn’t he? Stan was wearing Ford’s spare glasses and they threatened to slip down his nose at every movement, far too big for him. They also had the added benefit of making him look very, very cute.

“How about I lend you my journal?” Ford relented. “You can read it by yourself before you go to sleep. I can tell you other stories later.”

Stan hesitated. “…yeah? I can borrow it?”

“So long as you don’t damage it, you may.” Ford dropped the book in his brother’s hands and turned to gather up an armful of equipment. “Go along now.”

Stanley scurried off to read, and Ford descended into the basement where his work waited.

When he emerged at seven thirty the next morning, Stan was gone.

[toonqueen]

Duckverse 2020

--HOME--

This takes place in my headcanon for an 87/Comic universe for Magicstone. Ahhhhhh. Thank you @cataradical for so much betaing omg.

------

Gladstone awoke to a tremendous throbbing headache. It could be compared to an extremely bad hangover, if he had ever had one of those. Even with the heavier drinking the few times he tagged around as a “fourth wheel” when Donald’s two bright-feathered friends were visiting. 

He let out a soft groan, not wanting to open his eyes until he remembered how exactly he got like this. There were just scattered, small memories he could recall. A fight with something. Magica was definitely there. Gladstone rubbed his forehead with his palm. Even with closed eyes, he could still tell there was a little beam of light coming into the room.

When the half-goose finally opened an eye, it was through the spread fingers of his hand still on his face. The light came from the window, peeking between a set of curtains Gladstone did not recognize. Not his, and not the ones in Magica’s little shack. 

Gladstone instantly sat up in the bed, and then immediately regretted moving so fast. It made his head swim. The dark room spun for a long minute. Gladstone felt if he laid back down the pain would get even worse. He noticed there were a pair of doors across the room: dark brown wood, very tall and wide; one was propped open by a star-shaped doorstop. He didn’t feel like he could get up safely right now. It was a very strange feeling, for Gladstone to be weak. His second panicked thought was he had lost his luck yet again. However, he did know this was a stranger’s house, and he needed to get out immediately. 

The half-goose cautiously sat up, legs hanging over the side of the bed. His head was still swimming. Once it steadied, Gladstone gave a closer look around the room. The walls were made up of the same dark wood as the doors; every three feet, tall, intricate pillars had been carved expertly into the walls. They resembled Greek Ionic columns with swirling capitals on top.

Gladstone spotted his coat and tie across the room, draped over a nearby Victorian cherry wood chair by a matching vanity. His hat sat atop the ornate mirror.

Groaning, Gladstone finally got up and walked over to the window. Just moving felt like too much effort. He pushed one curtain aside, enough to shine a little light on his face. With another grunt, his eyes adjusted to the brightness. Outside, he saw a nearby forest edging into what used to be a small vineyard. All overgrown. The wooden spikes and poles that held grape vines still stood. 

On dilapidated fencing sat two black crows. Two very familiar crows. 

Gladstone relaxed and sighed in relief. All the tension of waking up in a strange location disappeared; Magica was here. But where he was he still didn’t know. He remembered he went to Magica’s shack to visit her, but that was all he could recall for the moment.

He was already feeling much better as he explored the large bedroom. The dresser on the other side of the room had several framed photographs sitting on it. Like the rest of the room, the frames were wood, antique, gilded in gold leaf. He looked over the pictures before something caught his interest.

Gladstone picked up one photograph of two young children with their parents. He wouldn’t say what they were wearing more modern, but it definitely looked newer than all the other Victorian-esque pictures. All smiling, like your usual family portrait. Gladstone knew he had a few of him as a kid with his parents with the same warm, friendly look. 

It then dawned on him the two kids in the picture were Magica and her brother Poe. He chuckled softly and put it back down on the dresser. 

A familiar face appeared in the doorway, and Gladstone couldn’t help but give a smile. 

Magica had a pitcher of water in her hands and spoke as she walked in. “Of course you wake up when I leave the room. I hope you weren’t too worried.” She went to the bedside stand first, filling an empty glass sitting there. 

Gladstone’s body relaxed, most noticeably in his shoulders. He walked over to the bed to sit again. “Can you fill me in on what happened?” he whispered like they weren’t alone, needed to keep quiet. 

Magica handed Gladstone the glass. “Drink this first,” she said. There was fleeting concern in her tone, like she was trying to hide it but a little slipped through. 

Without hesitating, Gladstone did what he was told.  “Okay, what was that? Some potion to balance me out, or?” he asked as he handed back the glass. 

“Water; you’re probably dehydrated,” Magica scowled a little. As if he were a fool for not knowing what water tasted (or did not taste) like. 

“I think my luck is gone,” Gladstone muttered.

“I doubt that. With what happened last night, you were lucky to get out of there alive. You don’t remember anything?”

“I came to surprise you with an impromptu visit. You weren’t home. Poe let me in even though Ratface told him not to.. After that it's kinda fuzzy,” Gladstone explained. 

Magica put her hand on his forehead to feel if it was hot or not. He’d been warm earlier, but now seemed normal again. She sighed. “I was late for a meeting with my grand coven.They had...” She tried to think of a non-magic layman's term for it. “They had projected outside for the meeting. I assume they saw you and must have thought you were an intruder.”

“I do remember seeing three big ladies,” Gladstone said, paused a moment, “big as in projected. Like you said. Like a magical facetime call, hm?” 

“Some of us still have flip phones, Gladstone,” Magica ughed, “but yes, like facetime.” 

“So I ran into them and they zapped me with something? Do I still have my luck?” Gladstone sounded slightly panicked at the last question. A bit of cracking to his voice like a teen hitting puberty. 

Magica sat on the side of the bed facing him. “You really don’t remember anything? I think you still have your luck. Trust me. I think that's how you are still alive. I’m very rusty on my fake death spells. It had to be your luck.”

“Magica, give yourself some more credit. I’ve always seen you cast great magic. I mean, I don’t know what kind of form that stuff is graded on, but it always works for you!” There was a moment's pause as the gears turned in the half-goose’s head. “Wait, death spell?!” 

Magica gave a little wince at that, even though Gladstone hadn’t been very loud.

“When I got there, they were accusing you of spying on them. One had used a silence spell on you, so I didn’t know what you were trying to tell me,” Magica explained, wrinkling her beak, “they wanted to get rid of you. I lied and said that I needed you for your access to Scrooge and his dime for the Midus spell.”

If Magica had said such a thing early on in their relationship he would have been skeptical. But over time he learned she did keep him separate from her… magic business. She hadn’t used him to get to his uncle since long before they were “dating”.

“They wanted me to get rid of you STILL, even though I said I needed you for--you know--the mission they have me on. Pretty much sabotaging me if what I had said had been true. So... I made it seem like you were dead. By wand zap. Seemed to work. They believed it. At least, I think they did,” Magica explained. 

Gladstone felt like she was telling the truth, but she was holding something back. There was a pause to her inflection on words that left him thinking she was deciding carefully on how she said each sentence. 

His head was still too sore to press for more details on what actually happened. For now.

“Where are we?”

“Well, obviously I couldn’t have you at my house in case they-- ugh---” she paused to use the term Gladstone said, “facetime me again. This is an old estate; we’ll be fine and safe here. It would be best to stay a day or two to keep off my grand coven’s radar.”

Gladstone glanced around the room from where he sat in bed. It really felt like he’d stepped back into the past; the early 1800s, where everything was fancy, posh but lovingly ornate. Window curtains and sheets were a dark silver, the latter plush and silky. The floors were polished wood with several black Persian rugs. Though the place looked old, there were brass electric lamps on the walls, a vintage Baroque-style stained glass flush mount on the ceiling.

“I’ve only seen one room in this place and can already tell it's better than your other home. Why not stay here all the time?”

“I brought you here because it's safer. But there are safety spells cast all over this place that interfere with my own magic, so I could not ‘work’ here,” Magica answered shortly. “Did you need to call anyone? Being gone for more than a day, I don’t want your uncle to think I kidnapped you. Again.” 

“How long was I out?” Gladstone asked, now concerned because Magica wanted him to check in with his family. 

“Overnight. It’s already past noon,” Magica said as she put her hand on his cheek. She gave a light smile, like there was something more on her mind. “You should wash up. You must be hungry. I started making soup.”

Gladstone chuckled, taunting, “This ancient place has plumbing?”

Magica withdrew her hand to give him a playful push on the shoulder. “Of course it does. I’m not THAT old.”

“Ah, so this is your childhood home? Or something like that?” Gladstone’s curiosity was piqued.

“Yes, something like that,” Magica replied vaguely, “you really do need to wash up though.”

Gladstone gave a glance back over to his items on the vanity. With the light brighter in the room now, he saw the clothing was streaked with dirt. He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his bill. “Oh, man… one of them threw me, huh? With a blast of magic?”

“You were pretty roughed up when I got there. So that is a possibility.” Magica put her free hand on his other cheek to move his head down a little. Gladstone received a light kiss to the forehead.

“Lucky for me you showed up to save the day.” Gladstone raised his head, wearing a cheesy grin. 

Magica shook her head in the stereotypical “oh, you!” fashion. 

Still smiling, Gladstone gave her a long kiss back. Properly, beak to beak. Magica leaned into it, her hands moving from his face down to his shoulders. He put an arm around her back and gave a gentle squeeze.

There was a low growl. Magica pulled back from the embrace. For one split second she was almost concerned a wild animal had snuck into the room.

“Sorry. That was me. I guess I am hungry.” Gladstone gave a sheepish shrug. 

Magica let him go to bap him on the arm. “Finish another glass of water and clean up. Bathroom is the door on the left.” She gave him a peck on the cheek before standing up to leave. “I’ll bring the soup up to you once it's done. Don’t expect anything fancy.” 

Gladstone hummed a moment. “You must have been pretty worried about me if you’re volunteering to provide me free room service.”

“Well, don’t get used to it!” Magica replied as she walked out of the room.

Once she left, Gladstone flopped down, laying crossways on the bed. He thought, for just a second, what it would be like to have a home with Magica. 

------

Lol I was gonna say Zoom call instead of Facetime but then realized this takes place slightly in the past. I looked up when IPhone came out which was 2007, which is still a tiny bit too much in the future for this but haha maybe Duckverse just have iphones sooner so screw logic. Haaaa. (Mind you time frame kinda mattered to me because I headcanon Gladstone’s mom was born 7.7.1957. Gladstone is 7.7.1977 and Gladstone and Magica’s kid should have been 7.7.2007 technically. (Except the kid landed on the 13th because SPOOKY OKAY.)

Also the house mentioned here is a headcanon I have for a De Spell Estate that's past through the family. No one is currently living there but I like the concept of using it as a safe house when crazy stuff goes down. >_>

[graphicabyss]

Avalanche and the Fallout

So, last time I commented on Tegoshi’s tell-all book and now it’s released and the damage is done. Such an appropriate name seeing as avalanches are sudden and destroy everything in their path. As I read the book and the related news, I struggled with both the need to convey how I felt and stop giving him so much time and attention. Sure enough, I ended up with a long review/analysis/bitching post. It's rough and mean and very long so please read at your own risk.

Facts first. The book released on Aug 5 was originally supposed to run 10,000 copies but they reportedly increased it to 50,000 due to high demand. Tegoshi also held a press-conference to talk about it on release day. It ended up being one of the best-selling books on Amazon and top seller in Entertainment.

It’s hard to talk about the book briefly. It’s 270 pages long and I had absolutely no intention to read it all but still ended up reading a good deal and words just kept pouring out of me. I could not imagine how much this book would fuck me up. I knew it would be bad but honestly I was shocked about the publication because it’s both incredibly cruel to so many people and incredibly stupid as it’s going to severely damage his reputation and future career.

I won’t even try to pretend to be objective because there’s nothing objective about the book itself. It’s a book of unsolicited opinions. If there’s one word I’d to describe it it’s ‘delusional’. Every chapter reeks of vanity and a sense of superiority as he judges every single celebrity he came in contact with and gives plenty of advice. It's a mess of careless words hastily and haphazardly thrown together in an attempt to let the world know the Real Tegoshi.

Of course, that's not how he sees it. He mentions the likes of Steve Jobs and Bill Gates saying their books give people motivation and inspiration and he wanted to do the same. Bitch, you haven't done anything to get you on that level yet.

There’s a video on his channel where he goes to the publisher to talk about the book and while he says about sending an inspirational message, the publisher only wants him to talk about Yukirin and other juicy gossip. And it’s not like poor Tegoshi was tricked into it, he readily agreed to it and he knew full well what he was doing. The book’s cover does not advertise life advice, it advertises celebrity gossip. Also nudes, which by the way, turned out to be mere topless shots. Add false advertising to the list of offenses. He really gave Bunsun a run for their money discussing half his scandals and even adding some extra. He keeps saying he only wants to clear up the rumours but somehow ends up saying things that make absolutely no difference or even make him look worse. It's like if Bunshun said "Tegoshi was partying with 5 younger women, ran around naked and then passed out drunk" and Tegoshi would be like "That's not true! There were 4 women!"

He also said he absolutely could not hide how he truly felt. And that seems to make sense except it’s one thing to just be honest and reveal some of your relevant thoughts in a carefully worded manner. But this is another thing entirely. It’s some kind of emotional exhibitionism, a compulsory desire to share his every thought and opinion on everything and everyone. Dear, there is middle ground between hiding how you really feel and giving your every single opinion. That doesn't make you honest. It makes you an asshole.

The book is divided into small chapters and most are about NEWS, past and present members and related topics, as well as most other JE artists. Some chapters are about the women he had or did not have relations with. Some are about the people he admires and his delusional plans for the future. Only a small number of chapters do not mention any names and talk about his personal experiences and thoughts.

At this point, I do not even have all the scans but I have more than enough to go off the parts I read. First off, I am now allergic to the word ‘positive’ and the phrase ‘as a man’. What the fuck does that even mean? Also, a lot of the stuff he says in the book is not new in any way and was either said before or known through other sources or rumours. There are hardly any shocking revelations anywhere, at least if you were following him as closely as I have. But hearing all these terrible opinions at once is sure a treat.

Actually, he himself described it as whining and that seems accurate because he does that for a good portion of the book, explaining how unfairly he (and other people) was treated by the industry and the press. There are many stories of hardship and resilience. There’s the good old "I suffered so much when I wasn’t the center of attention for the first time in my life”. There’s the classic “The media spreads lies about me” and other familiar narratives. Also a few tragic stories of unfulfilled love.

And not all of it is horrible. In fact, there are a few parts that I could relate to, such as the terrible way Koyama had been treated when he had to resign from ‘every’, the strange limitations for idols and how excessively strict the rules of Japanese showbiz are. But by telling those stories and complaining about JE and Japan’s entertainment industry, he is not going to make a change. All he accomplished is make things harder for himself. Bringing up the names of many artists, especially those he doesn’t even know personally, and discussing their problems is incredibly rude, intrusive and potentially damaging. Yes, the rules of Japanese entertainment suck but see how much you can achieve going against them.

And I don't like JE and not going to defend it but bitching about JE in particular is unwise for two reasons: One - not only does he owe everything to it, NEWS is still in it and what’s bad for JE is bad for NEWS. Two - JE is very powerful and has immense influence in the industry so making them your enemy when your career barely started may lead to it ending prematurely. In the end, Tegoshi Yuya’s biggest obstacle to fame isn’t JE or media. It’s Tegoshi Yuya.

It is not an autobiography book so it doesn't start with childhood. Which is a pity because I was hoping to get a glimpse of how we got to this point. There are a few clues though. 

I can tell.

Perhaps the most important chapters are those connected to his leaving the band, his reasons and motivations and that shit made me livid. He basically says that one day he imagined how awesome his solo career would be and decided he was too good to be in NEWS and the world will fall at his feet at soon as he lets it. He literally says that when he had to stay home because of the Covid-19 pandemic, he realized that God sent him a sign saying “Quickly, leave the agency!”. The pandemic is serendipity. Fuck me.

I honestly expected that the part about NEWS members at least would be nothing but praise but it also left me with very mixed feelings. First, there's a chapter "What I Told the NEWS Members" and it sounds so solemn and inspirational like "Are you sure you didn't copy that from some drama or anime? Because people do not talk like that, especially after being hit with such news." I'd love to hear their side of the story. There's also a chapter calling the members his comrades and expressing his eternal gratitude. But it's pretty clear that's not really for the members, it's to appease the fans.

There are several more chapters about the members specifically. Tegoshi has to be perfectly honest so there’s evaluation of every member, as he positions himself as the best performer by default and tells some stories that he apparently seems to think necessary to share.

For instance, there’s his story of choosing to stay in NEWS in 2011 as he told Koyashige they were miles behind Tegomass and needed to improve their singing and dancing to not drag the band down. Wait, since when can Tegoshi dance? Also the time Massu could not get a certain song right and got unresponsive as Tegoshi kept poking his mistake, so Tegoshi went berserk and thrashed Massu's things.

There is also a whole chapter about Shige and it's so weird as a former biggest Tegoshige shipper. Before I'd be happy for all the praise. Sadly, at this point if Tegoshi praises you too much it's almost a little suspicious. The whole thing is basically Tegoshi deciding that Shige is his top choice as... a man? deciding he makes the best leader and entrusting him the band. "Take care of my NEWS, Kato!" he says at the end. Fuck this shit!

Also, whatever happened to “Shige-chan?” He has made no effort to spend time with Shige out of work. And you know, they used to hang out and go on trips together when they were younger but not in recent years as Tegoshi got 'cooler' friends. I mean, his and Shige's friends probably have a 20+ difference in IQ level but still... He also only read a few of his books and unlike Massu, he does read. Mostly shitty 'how to succeed' types. All of that speaks of remarkable disinterest in Shige's actual life and thoughts.

There are several more chapters regarding NEWS as a band and what he thinks they should do and it makes me furious just talking about it. You lost any right to decide the band's future when you left them high and dry, asshole. He also claims he loves NEWS so so much and even wears the tour T-shirts (impressive!) and sings their songs in karaoke and cries! (poor thing!) On top of that he can't wait to see the STORY tour and go to see it and also broadcast it on his Youtube and do a review.......... I can't with this shit. Let's move on.

He also analyzed former members, basically calling Ryo spineless and saying he and Pi should have left sooner if they had no interest being in the band. And that’s coming from someone who tried to leave what? 4 times at least? Yes. It turns out he wanted to leave the band in 2017, in addition to 2011 and 2013. The way I see it now, 4nin NEWS was a hostage situation where Tegoshi constantly threatened to leave and other members trying to keep him happy and make him stay. He knew he was important and he got away with all kind of shit, both within the band and the agency.

In a similar manner, he takes each JE group and artist and evaluates them - what's good about it and what’s not, who’s popular and capable, what the group needs to do and so on. It’s amazingly condescending. There’s even a whole part about wanting to unite NEWS and KAT-TUN. What the fuck? Who asked you? Go film your ugly wardrobe or something.

I bet Tegoshi is so obsessed with popularity and rankings that he sees numbers over every person's and groups’ heads. Not everything in the world can be ranked and measured in numbers. He also says there are many celebrities who fucked up and acted like divas but are still popular. Way to go! Except it seems you have mistaken the order. You should succeed first, then be a dick. Also bitch, you're not Lady Gaga.

One of the biggest reasons for the anger of fans, at least the Western ones, was the way he talked about the mental issues of the former King & Prince member Iwahashi Genki and SEXY ZONE member Matsushima Sou both of whom had to step back from the industry because of their panic attacks. Even though he intended to encourage them, he expressed a fundamental misunderstanding of how panic attacks work suggesting they just had to cheer up and stay positive.

There's a whole section where he talks about a dozen female celebrities, mostly idols and actresses, dedicating a whole chapter to each. Of course, only to ‘set the record straight’. Because that’s exactly how the rumours work, you know. Particularly old ones. You tell the whole story and they go away. It's disgusting. Female artists' whole careers depend on their pure image and being associated with him can easily end it.

He also speaks of the first three girls he dated, which all sound like huge and tragic love stories as he said he loved them so much he considered marrying them but they all actually happened when he was about 16 to 20 years and after turning 20 he hasn't had a single woman that he loved that much.

And then some parts are only about himself and they are things that one should really, really keep to oneself. Nobody needs to know you drink so hard you can’t get it up. The chapter's called "I have no interest in sex" but it should really be called "I have a drinking problem". I couldn’t help but remember the scandalous article that came out in 2017 where one of his 'girl friends' sold the story of their relationship with all unsightly intimate details. I chose to defend him at the time but now I’m not even sure I can blame her. Perhaps it should be viewed as whistle-blower insider info as she warned others of what they may expect. The chapter "I have easily over a 1000 female friends" says he has this many girl contacts all over Japan and overseas but they aren't what you think they are. He only had 10 girls who he considered girlfriends, those he met 1 on 1 with. I guess the rest he just fucked so that doesn't count. Now that I think about it, I feel like 99% of all the Bunshun articles were mostly accurate.

Speaking of which... There's also a chapter where he explains why he cried during Neverland tour and he explains it by the photo with the two cons from 2011. We all know that was just a small part of it and the far bigger reason was people exposing his private messages and leaking intimate photos and stories. So much for the whole truth. Also, he whines about his reputation being hurt by the photo but has a whole chapter praising the man called Horiemon who was imprisoned for securities fraud.

There's another major revelation that shows his character. He mentions several cases where he had hissy fits in the dressing rooms, actually throwing chairs and things. Of course, for important reasons - being frustrated and angry at terrible injustices. Such as Koyama being fired from ‘every’ or him losing some parts in ChumChum after his scandal. Also the fight with Massu back in 2010 when he threw Massu’s things on the floor... It’s horrible as it is but for Massu, knowing he freaks out if you so much as breathe on his things... What a bitch.

There are also some chapters about his delusions of becoming a worldwide phenomenon but he doesn't seem to have a real plan how to achieve it. There are his ideas that are all over the place. There's the bold "Creating a new mold of entertainment" so that's producing. There's Youtube stuff. There's creating a "Tegoshi village" with ex-TOKIO Yamaguchi. He just had to pick the most problematic of his senpai. And there's an actual chapter called "Expanding to China and US Simultaneously”? Also English lessons? That all sounds very impressive, hon, but all you did so far was piggybacking on other people's fame and work. His book sold largely due to scandals and other people's names. He had a solo concert with just his NEWS solos and cover versions. And he just released a video that is an exact replica of his ItteQ segment.

One question is: how is he so confident he'll succeed fast? Well, apart form the usual delusions of grandeur. One reason for his excessive confidence is having friends in high places. At one point he's casually namedropping Abe Shinzo and the First Lady who was supposedly expected to come to the Story tour. Tegoshi said he would invite both of them to his solo concert. Yeah, I'm sure they'll come, nothing controversial about that.

I can’t imagine how it’s going to go from here but I don’t know how anyone would still want to work with him. He fucked over people he worked with for 18 years, people he claims to love, in a heartbeat so what can a new partner expect?

--------------------------------------------------

As expected by literally everyone but Tegoshi, the book made an uproar and not in a good way, with fans and agencies enraged over his words about the artists. There were many articles calling this book 'exposé book', especially focusing on him using the real names of female celebrities. Some newspapers followed up with petty articles. My favourite is an article from Tokyo Sports that specifically dug up a story that was not in the book about the way he adamantly pursued a certain female idol trying to conquer her and culminating in doing a dogeza in front of her but she still rejected him saying "Zettai yada! I will be your girlfriend number what?". Her name is not revealed, which is unfortunate, I'd like to know who that queen is.

Not all feedback was bad, of course. According to this article, many men brought it and enjoyed it. I'm sure they did. Plenty of aspirational douchebags out there. Anyway. Many fans wrote to him long angry and very detailed letters. His social media accounts have been losing followers for the past several weeks.

Perhaps the strangest thing is that he seemed genuinely surprised that instead of praise for his courage and honesty he got anger and disapproval. It wouldn't happen if he got his head out of his ass and literally asked a single one of the people he wrote about what they thought of it. 

The feedback must have been very focused as the very next day he wrote a few posts on his Twitter and Instagram indicating his concern over the feedback. On Twitter, he used the word “yacchimatta ka” as in “I messed up, didn’t I?” though stylistically I read it as “whoopsie”. Then there were two Insta stories.

2020/08/06 Ah, I'm a little tired. I'm also human. (sometimes I whine)

2020/08/06 I don't bother with those who criticize me in whatever they do. But I can't stand to see my fans, whom I treasure like my life, leave. I'm sorry. From now on, I won't whine anymore.

"I whine sometimes?" Really? that's what you call a 272 pages tell-all book? Also "I won't whine anymore"?? You think pulling off shit like that and then saying "whoopsie" is enough? It got quiet for a few days and on Aug 10 there was the apology video, which was named "This is my first and last whining". Doubt it. He uses the word ‘弱音’ which has a somewhat vague meaning, using it in an apology video in that context is confusing. Why not call apology as it is? That seems like another politician’s technique.

The apology was impressive in a way. At least it was not a blanket apology, he (or his employees) correctly identified what exactly people were mad about. He said he was really sorry for hurting his fans and causing trouble to people he wrote about. He said he understood that he doesn't have to reveal everything. He also said that he felt the love behind the anger, that fans wrote to him because they cared and were disappointed. Also said he realized that he was protected till now. It was all pretty good right until the very end when he gave a loud 'TEI!' effectively ruining the effect.

Of course, it was good that he did that but I still don't think it even began to make up for all the shit he wrote. The apology would be an adequate step after a shitty Tweet, not a fucking book. Also, I feel like more than anything he just got scared of losing his fans, maybe even sorry for hurting their feelings but not really sorry for what he did. He has no plans to change his behaviour. He wants to be at his 100% assholeness and still be adored.

Of course thousands of merciful women turned to his defence because he looked 'so sad' and even 'thinner'. That's right! He's the real victim here. Must be terrible to hear such hard criticism for the things you actually said and did.

By now I'm barely even angry anymore and a part of me feels sorry for Tegoshi. He's like a dumb spoiled child who wreaks havoc. But I have to remind myself I should not feel sorry. He is in fact an adult man of 32 who is so used he always gets his way that even a minor opposition is viewed by him as a violation of his freedom. And his charm is the very reason he always got away with all the shit he did in life up to this point. I bet he is getting a lot of hate mail and I hope his positivity prepared him for it. I remember him calling Koyama in the middle of the night to come and comfort him while he cried. Also calling Shige to come only to fall asleep in his lap. Now he's on his own. God, right now I just really wish Tegoshi would send himself to the corner and thought about what he's done. Just step aside and shut up for 5 minutes.

But he isn't gonna do it. Of course not. He had a solo concert today and is doing Youtube videos and moving even faster so that people forget about the book.

But fans never will. I can't even say if the book changed my perception or just unveiled what I knew was there all along. For years I've been discarding and questioning all the bad rumours and stories telling myself "He didn't mean it" or "That can't be true" but now it all comes together like pieces of a puzzle, and there's no need to guess anymore because he's shouting "Oh yes I fucking did and I'll do it again!"

All in all, the book paints a picture of a man who is anything but Prince Charming. It chips away any remaining illusions of a 'perfect idol' showing someone who is vain, petty, and chauvinistic. Someone who is obsessed with status and popularity so much that he is willing to sacrifice everything for it and thinks it doesn't matter how bad your reputation is as long as you succeed. Someone who is the very epitome of toxic masculinity, drinks himself to oblivion and treats women like toys. And yet, somehow, I still find myself having to fight the strong urge deep inside of me that makes me want to like him.

[shera-dnd]

A Day at a Time - Routine

So I decided to actually write one of those fic ideas I had and I’m starting with that that therapy cat Melog fic

*ahem*

Catra has just gotten past a pretty rough patch in her life and now lives alone with her therapy cat, Melog. Though she is mentally stable now, she's still lonely and having a hard time finding any happiness. There are two women in her apartment building who she sees every day. She has considered talking to them many times, but always stopped herself. Melog is not letting her do that for much longer

summary done, now let’s get on with the fanfic

~~~

Catra woke up to Melog licking her face. She yawned and scratched behind his ears a little, before getting up from her bed. She hadn’t needed to set up an alarm in a while, not because she didn’t care when she woke up - her therapist had pointed out several times how important keeping a routine was - but because little Melog would not let her oversleep, no matter how much she tried.

She dragged herself to the bathroom on auto pilot, taking her meds, brushing her teeth and washing her face. She stopped to look at herself in the mirror. Her hair was still short and she still didn’t like it like that, she had to remind herself every day that it would grow eventually, but she still felt disappointed whenever she looked at herself in the mirror.

Dragging herself back to the living space of her studio apartment, now just slightly more awake than before, she made herself a nice breakfast. Melog sat next to her, his little blue eyes staring at her as she ate. She got the message pretty quick and made sure to leave some for her little boy.

Stretching a little she made her way down to the lobby to check if she got any mail. She never got anything besides bills, but it was at least a reason to stretch her legs in the morning and not just stay locked inside her apartment all day. She didn’t exactly have the energy to go jogging everyday, like someone else in this building had.

Just on time that person jogged into the lobby and out of some lesbian’s wildest dreams. Her body was built like it had been sculpted in stone, her beautiful golden hair was tied in a ponytail, showing off her undercut and a scar on her left cheek. She looked like some mythical heroine in the flesh. She looked very hot is what Catra was getting at.

She always came back from her morning jog at about the same time Catra checked on her mail, so they ended up seeing each other every morning. She always smiled and waved at Catra as she made her way back to her apartment, but they never actually talked. Catra had thought about it, chatting with her, maybe going on jogs with her too, getting to know each other. She never did any of those things though. She simply didn’t have the energy to put into this kind of stuff right now.

She simply waved back at her, got her phone bill and made her way back to her apartment. She still had to clean up the place, have lunch, play a little with Melog, take her meds again, get ready for work - did she need to shave today? She was paying more attention to the hair earlier - she usually finished all that stuff early so she didn’t exactly have to rush, but she still saw no point in lingering here any longer.

The rest of her day had blown past her and soon it was almost night time and time for her to go to work. As soon as she stepped into the lobby again she ran into the other woman she saw every day. She dressed in the most basic office worker clothes possible, with the simplest black and white pattern, but her hair on the other hand was dyed bright pink and purple.

That clash alone was enough to catch Catra’s attention as they ran into each other every day. Making her way to work with the woman making her way back. She always looked so tired, but her eyes burned with a determination had never seen in anyone, especially not very short office women.

Once more Catra was tempted to greet her and once more she decided against it. The woman was tired and probably just wanted to get home and rest, Catra wouldn’t want to bother her. She should probably just make her way to work now.

The bus ride to the bar was quiet as usual and she was soon behind the bar, mixing drinks and chatting with people. Bartending was nice and she genuinely liked that job, not as much as she used to, but it was still probably better than whatever the pink lady did for a living. Sure, tips weren’t exactly at their all time highest now that she changed to an earlier shift and that she was less talkative, but it still managed to pay for rent and get food on the table, so she didn’t complain.

She got home at her usual time, finding little Melog asleep on the couch. She smiled at her pet before leaving a little treat for when he woke up, and made her way to the bathroom to take a nice relaxing shower. When she left the shower Melog was waiting for her in bed. She scratched the poof of white fur around his chest and neck. It contrasted against the black of the rest of his fur and acted really nicely as a ‘please scratch me here’ sign.

Giving her cat good night kiss, she laid down in bed and tried to sleep. Only when she felt the familiar weight and warmth of Melog sleeping on top of her, did she truly drift into unconsciousness.

~~~

Catra woke up to Melog licking her face. She yawned and scratched behind his ears a little, before getting up from her bed. She dragged herself to the bathroom on auto pilot, taking her meds, brushing her teeth and washing her face. She stopped to look at herself in the mirror. Her hair was still short and she still didn’t like it like that.

This had been her life for just over a month now. The routine helped her motivate herself, kept her stable… Or at least that’s what her therapist said it would do and so far it was working fine, she guessed. Still, that was all she managed to do; stay stable and keep following her routine. It had been months since she could truly describe herself as happy.

At least she had Melog. She smiled at her therapy animal as she got ready to go check her mail again. The little creature had been a blessing in her life, he was playful and a bit of a dumbass sometimes, but he was also full of affection and well behaved enough that Catra never had to worry that he would do something stupid while she was away. Except for today.

When she opened the door, Melog slipped past her legs and bolted down the corridor. Catra was so surprised she didn’t react for a moment.

“What the hell?” She murmured without thinking. Had Melog just done what she thought he’d done? Fuck. He did “Get back here, you stupid cat!” She shouted as she raced after him.

The little bastard had Catra chasing him down the stairs and into the lobby. Was he trying to escape the building or something? If he just wanted to go with her to check the mail then she could just carry his ass around instead of running through the building like a mad woman.

By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs she heard giggles coming from the lobby. She dragged herself there, just to catch little Melog running around and between the legs of a very tall and strong woman. That very tall and strong woman.

“Hey there,” She greeted Catra, smiling and giggling. “Is this your cat?”

[gustafsnightangel]

Shattered Lives Ch 13 Pt 2

She curled back into him and relaxed, she was exhausted. His arms came around her again and he kissed the top of her head.

“So what are you up to while I’m out for lunch?” He asked hoping that she’d sleep and rest.

“I have to go shopping so I can make stuff for tomorrow. Cake and party food, birthday pancakes. Because let me tell you the hell I’d pay if Liam was denied double birthday pancakes.” She snorted. “I’m spoiling the boys a little this week.”

“Nothing wrong with that and I’m sure the kid is going to shoot straight up soon on a growth spurt.” He smiled.

“Thursday will be a rough day for them.” She said quietly.

“It will be for you too love.” He said softly.

“There have already been some tears but mainly from the twins. Brendan’s will come later, he’s keeping it together for me and his siblings.”

“I told him on Saturday when I called and you were at work that you guys weren’t alone this time, that you had help, and it seemed to settle him.” He kissed her gently. “I’m happy to have them come to me if they need it love.” His eyes searched hers, ice blue and calmer now.

She looked at him. This kind, gentle soul, how did she get so lucky. “I hope he does. He needs you. And it troubles me to dump that on you.” She said quietly.

“I keep my promises love.” He said simply and she nodded.

“I know, and you need to get ready I don’t want to make you late.” She said looking at the time and changing the subject before she started crying in his lap again. No wonder she was exhausted, she’d bawled her eyes out for over two straight hours.

“You ok if I shower here?” he asked and kissed her softly as she looked at him.

“Of course. I’ll find you some towels.” She didn’t rise, she just looked at him a moment, damn she’d fallen hard for him. She kissed that clever mouth and got up to find some clean linens.

He let the hot spray of the shower beat against his face, he was relieved she’d talked. He knew there was much more than the short version she’d given him today but it was a start. Healing would take time. He dried off and dressed, and by the time he came out to the kitchen he saw her sitting at the table staring into space lost in thought, lost in memories.

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and kissed her head breathing her in, calming her and himself.

“You ok love?” He asked as she leaned back against him.

“I will be. Just thinking.” He let her go so she could stand.

“I’ll be back soon.” His fingers toyed with her hair. He didn’t want to go now and leave her like this having just purged her system. It had the potential to hit her again harder and he didn’t want her to be on her own when it did.

“Have fun, I’ll be fine, I have shopping to do and a cake to make.” Her smile was wide at the thought of his and Lily’s birthday tomorrow.

”Keeping busy.” His smile was understanding.

“Yeah, I have to.” She took his face in her hands and kissed him with that love and tenderness that blew his mind. “Thank you for being you.” She murmured.

“Always.” His wink has her smiling.

They walked to the door and he stood on her threshold, something they hadn’t done for a while and his heart skipped at the memory. He kissed her deeply, one of those lip locks that blanked her mind and curled her toes.

“You’re beautiful Sildie.” He said softly.

“Only to you love.” She chuckled.

“I’ll see you in a bit, oh, and eat something please.” He said kissing her again quickly.

“I will.” Not that she felt like it.

With Gustaf gone she collected her things and made a shopping list. She’d likely forget something today as her brain wasn’t really engaged in birthday mode. She’d snap out of it, she had to tomorrow, for Lily, for Gustaf. She would not let the grief into the day tomorrow.

This week wasn’t going to plan she thought as she drove to the market. She’d wanted to rock his world yesterday but Lily got sick and today she’d planned to make up for that and she’d imploded instead. The poor guy was probably wondering why the fuck he’d come home to all this crap in the first place.

She was in the cake mix and flour section and cursed. She’d forgotten to ask him what dessert he liked because Brendan was determined to make his favorite. She took out her phone and sent the simple question.

What’s your favorite dessert?

He grinned at her text as he talked with his brother Alex.

You.

“Oh Ha ha funny man.” She mumbled but couldn’t help the grin that spread wide across her face.

Of the edible variety.

Still you love.

She was actually chuckling now.

If you couldn’t have me.

“Then I would die.” He mumbled to himself and texted her back.

Then I’d be very upset.

Damnit Gustaf be serious.

I am serious.

Favorite dessert of the food variety that’s not me or my anatomy or part thereof.

She was actually giggling now, he had that effect on her. The man could be sweet and insufferable all at the same time. He knew how to push her damn buttons.

Still you if I use you as a plate. How I’d love to eat something saucy off you, lick you in all those places that make you moan for me.

“Fuck me.” She muttered and groaned inwardly at those words. She knew exactly the tone he’d say them in too.

Favorite dessert of the food variety that’s not me my anatomy or part thereof, or used in said desserts method of plating, distribution, or consumption. Don’t make me lawyer you further love, you’ll lose.

He huffed out a laugh and grinned. Damn he loved it when she got all feisty and the lawyer surfaced.

Oh you meant specifically?

He could picture her getting flustered and grinned. Anything to get her mind off the week for a second.

Yes.

Kladdkaka. Second favorite dessert. You will always be my first.

Maybe you can have both ;)

“Maybe I will.” He chuckled.

Don’t tease and stop biting your bottom lip.

She huffed out a laugh as she was doing exactly that and knew his response would be that growl that made her pussy tingle in anticipation.

I’ll see you soon, enjoy the rest of your lunch.

Did you eat?

Not yet.

Please eat love.

Maybe I want dessert first.

You’ll only get dessert if you’ve eaten first, of the food variety as stated above.

He grinned, he knew the lawyer would find a loophole otherwise.

Go eat I’ll be home soon.

With the shopping done she got everything into her apartment and then wondered how she was going to refrigerate the extra food. Thinking Gustaf wouldn’t mind she grabbed his spare key and went next door.

She knocked first, he may have said it was her home too but it was still his apartment. She smiled as she closed the door remembering what he’d done to her against it and felt her pussy throb. Maybe one day soon she’d get him to do it to her again.

It took her a few trips but with everything stacked in his fridge she breathed out and relaxed suddenly feeling very tired. The morning was finally catching up to her. Blowing out a breath she went to the bedroom and decided to nap until he got home. With any luck she could rock his world a little before she had to pick the kids up. Stripping she curled up and sleep took her under in moments.

It was good seeing the family all together and couldn’t wait until Sildie was comfortable enough to meet them. He’d explained why, again, and had to sit through the playful ribbing from Alex that Sildie was just a figment of his imagination.

That was until Bill bailed him out, he’d seen Lily cradled in his arms. And once Gustaf told them she’d had some shit go down and they were still adjusting he let it go. His father cornered him before he left and asked to invite her and the family to Christmas. It would be a mad house but they wanted to welcome her with open arms, her and the kids.

“She’s made you happier than I’ve ever seen you.” Stellan said gently.

“I’m in love with her, stupidly so.” He grinned a shy grin and dropped his head.

“I can see.” His father playfully elbowed him and let it be. “It’s a good thing. Embrace it, women like that only come around once.”

There was no answer at her apartment and thinking she was still out shopping he decided to go home and chill until she was done. He figured he could go a round with the bag and meditate before she got home. He knew there were some things he needed to sort through in his mind from earlier today.

He found her shoes by the door, her purse and phone tossed haphazardly on the counter and it set that smile wide across his face. He made it to the doorway of the bedroom before he stopped and took in the sight.

His goddess curled up, naked and asleep. The day had caught up with her. He set an alarm on his phone for kid pickup just in case he fell asleep too. Quietly he shucked his clothes and curled up behind her.

He kissed her head and ran a hand the length of her body before snaking his arm around her pulling her close. Her scent wafted, intertwining with his, relaxing and arousing him. He’d missed her.

Laying there he let his mind drift. He been home two days and it felt like two years. He knew it wasn’t forever, the grief would dissipate eventually. It would be better once the week was done. Yes it was hard work but she needed him, the kids needed him, he would settle, he would find that peace again, for all of them.

She turned in his arms, still fast asleep. Her own arm finding its way over his hip, her hand curled tightly under her chin fanned out over his chest. Even in sleep she searched for him, searched for that comfort he was only too willing to give her.

He kissed her brow and let his fingers dance over her in lazy strokes, soothing more than arousing. Even so, he was already hardening for her with those curves flush against him. He’d never tire of the way she felt in his hands, against his body.

She felt his touch pull her from the sleep that had descended so suddenly. That familiar scent, the scruff tickling her forehead as he kissed her. Still half asleep she tipped her head back and found those lips she suddenly had a craving for.

Her kiss was soft and tender as she started to wake.

“You found me.” She mumbled sleepily and opened her eyes to see that gorgeous face, those smile lines of a man that brought her so much joy.

“I did, all naked, just how I like you.” He murmured and kissed her sweetly. “Good nap?”

She nodded. “I think I needed it. How was lunch with your clan?”

“Noisy, boisterous, but loving.” He left out the part where they gave him crap about not bringing her, she didn’t need that now. “Did you eat?” He asked with a slight smirk and played with the soft waves of copper at her shoulder.

“Yes.” It wasn’t a lie, she’d eaten a few grapes as she put the groceries away. He’d never said how much she had to eat.

“Good.” He whispered and kissed her longingly.

“What’s the time? I have to pick the kids up at five.” She asked as his mouth traveled to her throat, she didn’t want to be late and have them worry.

“It’s only two thirty ish.” He said looking over at the clock on the nightstand. “And I have an alarm set for four so you have time to be there by five.” His fingers trailed from the hair at her shoulders to tangle into it at her head as he kissed her, tongue teasing hers.

“In the interim.” He growled. “I want my dessert.” He rolled them so she was pinned under him as she laughed.

Her laugh made him smile. He hadn’t heard it in a while and it made his heart fill with joy that he could make her laugh like she didn’t have a problem in the world. One day, he thought, one day he hoped she wouldn’t.

He kissed his way down to her breasts, spending time to pinch and tease her nipples. He sucked the hard buds into his mouth and rolled his tongue over them. Her moans were already making him throb for her. He wanted to feast, to arouse, and finally to claim. Claim her as his again and again.

She couldn’t think when he touched her like this, talented hands, clever mouth, and that tongue. How he used just the tip to ignite a fire across her skin. To taste the dips and valleys of her curves.

She gave herself over to him so completely, without hesitation, without question. He lay between her legs, thighs spread as wide as she could manage comfortably. His lips tortured the tender flesh where thigh met pelvis, that dip before her pussy. He nuzzled her there until her breathing was erratic and her hands were fisting in the sheets.

Only then did he lick fully from entrance to clit and watched as that perfect body arched off the bed. Her cry out was strangled as the assault on her senses continued as his lips suctioned to her clit and brought her undone. His hand stretched up the length of her torso, palm flat against her chest, forearm nestled between her breasts.

He held her still while his mouth tasted and savored the flavor of her. Sweet, juicy, and all his. He felt her release build, the gentleness of her hips grinding against his mouth as she sought for pleasure. It was only when he felt her body tense that he stopped, denying her orgasm.

He kissed his way up her body and devoured her mouth, her whimper the only noise that expressed her displeasure at not falling into bliss. He was painfully hard as he pressed her into the mattress with his body weight.

“Give yourself to me.” He murmured and continued to take her mouth with his. He’d always ask, and he knew she was sore after last night.

“I’m always yours love.” She said softly and his gaze locked onto her at her words.

“How sore are you from last night?” He asked as her fingers lightly stroked his spine. “Honestly.”

“I’m ok.” She nipped his ear gently. “And I want you to do it again.” She whispered and felt his teeth lightly sink into her throat at her words. “I want you to take me.” I want to feel anything but the grief I feel she thought.

“Roll over.” He growled, that one finger grazing her hip to signal her to do as he asked.

She loved the way he took control, the thought at what he would do to her sending a thrill down her spine and deep into her pussy. He was always gentle, but the pleasure he inflicted on her was a torturous ecstasy.

He knelt and placed a pillow under her pelvis as she rolled. Those curves seducing him as he kissed the length of her spine, the curve of her hips.

“On your knees love.” His hand slipped between her thighs and opened them as she slightly raised up on her knees.

He knelt between them and spread them as wide as her body would allow. He stretched his hand along her back and into her hair, and let the strands fall from between his fingers as he toyed with it.

Taking his engorged cock in his hand he stroked the tip along her from entrance to clit, her whimper only adding to his arousal. He looked down, her ass in the air, him poised to take her, ready to slip into that silken heat. He felt her tremble as he circled his tip at her opening.

Her cry soft as his hand drifted down her spine and back up to her hair. He would tease her relentlessly before he took her.

“Gustaf.” She gasped as he continued to arouse her.

She tried to rock back, to force him inside her but his hand barred the way.

He left his tip at her entrance and leaned over her body.

“What do you want?” He asked at her ear as his hand tangled gently into her hair again.

“You.” She whimpered. “All of you.” She was begging for him now. “Please.” She wanted to feel him inside her, fucking her, taking her.

“I want you hard love.” He said warning her he was going to have her how he wanted. “I love taking you like this.”

“Please.” She cried again as his hand fisted a little tighter in her hair.

He slowly and gently tip fucked her for a few moments and then stilled, letting the anticipation build, her body quiver at the thought of him slamming into her. He pulled on her hair gently as he tightened his grip and bit down on her neck just below the ear, she’d have a mark there tomorrow.

“What do you want?” He asked again softly.

“You.” She breathed and screamed out as he plunged into her, filling her completely.

Those tight soft walls of her pussy gripped him as he started to thrust. Each stroke was strong, powerful, and merciless. He pounded into her, the need to fuck her overwhelming him.

She took every thrust he gave her, taking him deep. She fisted her hands in the sheets and began to rock back meeting his thrusts and driving him deeper.

“Yes.” He growled. “Fuck that feels good.” His groan of pure ecstasy urged her to go harder until he bottomed out.

“Sildie, yes.” He purred and closed his eyes relishing in the feel of her.

They found a furious rhythm, one that sated their need for each other, the need to fuck hard and take each other. He looked at her as he took her. His fist in her hair, cock penetrating, that gorgeous woman under him taking every inch of him, rippling with pleasure, fingers straining against the sheets.

Her whimper for him told him she was close, the unmistakable tremble through her body as she started to tense. He increased his thrusts and she followed, pushing each other toward climax.

“Go over.” He growled and pistoned his hips faster and harder. “Scream for me.” He whispered and bit that one spot on her neck he knew would destroy her.

Her body convulsed as a hoarse scream tore from her throat as she came. The soft whimpers into the mattress as it continued to tear her apart as Gustaf fucked her harder. She rocked back against him eager to feel his release, feel him give everything to her.

His body tensed and stilled for a split second before he erupted. Cock pulsing inside her he pounded into her, those silky walls milking him. Breathing heavily he gently lay on top of her and released the hold he had on her hair.

His fingers massaged her scalp as she turned to look at him. How did she tell him she loved him when they both weren’t ready for what that meant, she wondered? She kissed him with that unspoken love, it was all she had right now, the words would have to wait.

“You ok?” He asked and kissed her tenderly.

“I’m always ok when I’m with you.” Her words shook him. “I meant what I said last night, I’ll tell you if somethings not.”

“I like to check, like to ask.” He kissed her again. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”

“I know but you’re not. I like it when you’re in control. Unless I’m in the mood to show you a thing or two.” Her grin was playful and it made him grin mischievously, that twinkle in his eyes sparking something in her.

“Oh I like seeing your moves love.” He held her to him kissing her brow.

“I know, maybe you’ll see some later.” She smiled, at least he would tomorrow morning if she’d planned it right.

His alarm started to chime and she sighed. The bubble was burst, back to the real world.

“When later? Tonight later or later in the week later?” He asked grinning.

“You’ll have to wait and see later.” She chuckled and kissed that clever mouth. “I have to go.”

“I know. I’ll be over a little after dinner, there are a few things I have to take care of here before I head over. Assuming you want me there tonight?” He asked as she climbed out of bed to dress.

“Yes I would like you to stay the night again but understand if you need some space. It’s been a rough few days with me and coming home to our mess.” She’d understand if he wanted a night to himself, hell would understand if he said it’s too much I’m out.

She looked at him when he didn’t answer and raised her eyebrow in question.

“You’re beautiful.” Fuck he wished she was ready for those three little words. But if he was being honest he wasn’t ready for the rejection if it came, not from her.

“And you’re dodging the question.” Fully dressed she watched him stand. “Do you want to stay over tonight or sleep here?”

“I sleep where you sleep love.” He murmured in that low timbre that rippled through her body. “I just need to catch up on a few things.” His hands cupped her face gently and he kissed her.

“As long as you’re sure, just come over when you’re done.” She said softly and ran her fingers over his chest.

“Go get the kids, I’ll be over soon.” He kissed her and lingered, he was so gone over her.

He heard the click of the lock on his front door as she left and headed to his gym room. He didn’t have much to take care of but he did need this time to get things under control mentally and keep them there. He’d done a good job while he was away and he needed to keep that flowing into his time at home. She’d understand when he was ready to tell why he needed to work the bag, the potential violence in him, the anger that spiraled out of control when he didn’t keep it in check. For right now he needed to work hard at it, keep it under control.

His workout wasn’t as explosive as it had been when he was away, that was a positive, he was healing too. He was still working through his issues with Ana but it was better. The anxiety was under control and his anger was being kept on a tight leash.

He let the emotion from the morning bubble up. Pounded the bag with precise punches as the tears came. She was so wounded, so lost without her brother. It was something he couldn’t fix, couldn’t make better, he could only help her heal.

“Fuck I hope I’m not making this shit worse for her.” He breathed and held onto the bag resting his head against it a moment. “Just breathe.” He reminded himself. “Just breathe.”

He showered and sat for meditation and reflected on the love he had for Sildie. It was real, he felt the difference and it ran deeply. He was pretty sure she felt the same way and that was what worried him. They both had the potential to hurt each other, destroy each other. Hurt the kids, and that terrified him.

“Maybe that’s why neither of us have uttered those three little words.” He murmured to himself. “We don’t want to be hurt, hurt each other, or hurt the kids.” He sighed.

They had both been hurt in the past but he wouldn’t make the same mistakes, he’d promised her that. He wouldn’t compare the two women and maybe that’s what’s holding me back he thought. Maybe that’s why I haven’t said it, too busy thinking about how he’d said it almost instantaneously with Ana. And now he was too caught up in figuring out when the timing was right.

His eyes snapped open with the epiphany. “It’ll never be the right time, you just have to tell her how you feel.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and stood.

“I’m such an idiot.” He breathed and huffed a laugh.

“Friday, after the day in the snow when things have calmed down.” He decided. “No chickening out.” He said to his reflection on the hall mirror as he went to head over next door.

He heard the cheer of Gustaf’s here when he knocked on her door and had to laugh at the twins smiling faces as they opened the it and looked up at him.

“You’re late.” Liam said sternly.

“Late for what?” He asked coming inside and closing the front door, making sure to flip the lock.

“Game time silly. We were going to play games with you as soon as we got home.” Liam said and started to drag him to the couch. “And you weren’t here.”

“Liam give the guy a chance to get through the door and breathe.” Sildie said coming into the living area with a very grumpy Lily.

“Apparently I’m late for games.” He chuckled.

“I told them you had stuff to do and you’d be over later. Sorry, I guess they’re just excited to have you here.” Lily sobbed and clung to Sildie.

“Aww Lily bear what’s wrong little lady?” He asked.

Lily looked at him with those big blue eyes but didn’t move.

“Looks like she wants mum mum tonight.”

“Well mum mum is hoping she’ll go to sleep so she can start getting things cleaned up for tomorrow.” Gustaf rubbed Lily’s back and held out his hand for her to come to him but she didn’t. Instead she pushed his hand away with an unmistakable no and burrowed into Sildies shoulder.

“Looks like I’m in the dog house with her too.” He chuckled.

“No she’s just grumpy and tired. You hungry? We already ate but I have some leftovers.” She stood there and watched him. Something was bothering him, she could see him trying to hide it. He kissed her, that gentle tender kiss that spoke to her soul.

“You ok?” She asked as her brow knit.

“I am now.” He smiled and settled. He’d almost said it and realized she really wasn’t ready. There was too much on her plate. “Where’s Brendan?” He asked walking with her to the kitchen where he saw the kid having a blast.

“Cooking.” She smiled. “And he’s really good.” She added kissing him quickly.

He stood there talking with Brendan and watched Sildie move around the kitchen. He was always in awe of her, Lily attached to her hip, putting the kettle onto boil, fixing a plate for him. He felt guilty watching her work while he just stood there.

“Go sit down.” She said and carried the hot plate to the counter where he took it from her.

“Come sit with me.” He tugged her hand gently. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes I ate.” He looked past Sildie at Brendan and he signaled a little bit with his fingers. “Are you two in cahoots or something?”

“Just making sure you keep up your strength love.” He growled. “You’re going to need it later.” He didn’t specify when later would be.

“So will you.” She purred and went to make tea. She heard the stifled groan and smiled.

He ate and took his dish to the kitchen, rinsed everything and stacked the dishwasher while Sildie was bathing Lily.

“You doing ok B?” He asked quietly, leaning against the counter watching him.

The kid nodded but hadn’t really said much to him. He knew the next few days would be hard on them, especially Brendan. He understood things a little more and deeper than the twins.

“Well just know I’m here if you want to talk, let of something steam, be angry at, it’s all cool.” At his kind words Brendan burst into quiet tears and fell into Gustaf wrapping his arms around him tightly.

“I hate them for leaving us.” He sobbed, so quietly that Gustaf almost missed it.

“Hate is such a strong word.” He said gently. “You can be angry at them but I don’t think you hate them. In fact I think you love them and miss them so much it tears holes in your heart.” Brendan nodded at Gustaf’s words and let the tears fall.

“It’s just not fair.” He mumbled, his sob catching in his throat.

“No B it really isn’t.” He held the kid tightly as he watched Sildie come out of the bathroom with Lily and come to an abrupt halt in the doorway.

He saw the question on her face of is his ok, and he answered with a nod. This is what the kid needed and this was what he’d said he was here for. It only made her love the man more for what he was to them.

“I wish to every shooting star I could make this better but I can’t.” He murmured.

“You do though.” Brendan said softly. “You’re here.” He pulled away from Gustaf and wiped his eyes. “Thanks.” He said and sniffed, his voice coming back to normal.

“Anytime. You want a drink?” Gustaf asked and fetched a water at his nod.

“Finally she went down.” Sildie said walking into the kitchen ready to do dishes. She didn’t give anything away that she’d seen Brendan cry, that was between him and Gustaf. “Who?” She asked pointing to the dishes and turning to look at Gustaf.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He smirked at her over his teacup and sipped his tea.

The twins eventually talked him into playing a game before they had to go to bed.

“You guys know this is only for this week right? When it’s regular school time it’s no games and bed at your normal time.” He said as he tucked them in.

“We know. It’s your birthday tomorrow.” Finn grinned.

“It is.” He chuckled. It always amazed him how quickly a kids brain processed stuff and moved on. “And Lily’s.”

“Does that mean double pancakes?” Liam grinned, the kid was a bottomless pit when it came to food.

“I don’t know, that all depends on how well you go to sleep tonight.” He said slyly, motivation was key with seven year olds.

“Are you sleeping over again tonight?” Finn asked quietly.

“ I was planning to. You guys ok with that?” To his relief they both nodded.

“We want you to stay every night.” They said in that broken sentence pattern only twins could do. It amazed him how one kid would start the sentence and the other finish it flawlessly, without even looking at each other. They just knew what each other was thinking. Most of the time he just thought they were messing with him but from what Sildie had tried to explain, it really was a twin thing.

“Well we’ll have to work on that ok. I have to sleep at my own home sometime.” And it was the truth, they would have to sleep separately at some point and it would be torture.

“Straight to sleep now ok. Lots of birthday fun tomorrow.” They pulled him in for a hug and giggled as he lost his balance and squished them with his body weight.

“Goodnight boys.” He chuckled from the doorway and flipped the light off.

“Gustaf?” Finn asked.

“Yeah?”

“Love you.” Came his tiny voice.

“Love you both.” He said quietly. Shutting the door half way he headed out to see Sildie watching him.

He walked to her and stopped in front of her.

“Hello love.” He murmured.

“Hi.” She reached up and kissed him, that slow burn and a promise of more.

He deepened it as his arms circled her drawing her closer.

“Brendan’s finishing up the cake, tea?” She asked pulling away, she was still a little shy about showing her affection for him in front of the kids which he’d expected. That would come with time too, it was all new to them.

“Damn that looks good.” He said to Brendan as the Kladdkaka cooled on the rack and the kid’s smile beamed. “Do I have to wait until tomorrow?” He winked at Brendan and went to break a piece off.

Sildies hand shot out and slapped his away. “Yes you have to wait. It’s not your birthday yet.” She saw the smolder in his eyes at her slap, his grin mischievous.

“Goodnight Ama.” Brendan chuckled and hugged her.

“Night love and thank you for cooking.” She smiled at him and watched him hug Gustaf. She sucked those tears up, hadn’t she cried enough today already?

“Night Gustaf.” The kid gave him another huge hug and Gustaf wrapped him up in his arms and squeezed.

“Night buddy.”

Alone at last he let the silence settle on them, the calm he’d been waiting for. He’d forgotten how intense kids were all the time. He wouldn’t change it for anything in the world though.

Sildie sat at the table with him and sighed out as she poured a fresh cup of tea.

“Long day.” He said softly and stroked a knuckle up her arm.

“I’m glad I got that nap in. Long and emotional, it wears you out.” She looked at him and saw the tiredness there. “You’re tired love.”

“A little.” He took her hand in his and pulled her so she was straddling his lap. “This makes it better though.” He kissed her tenderly and let his hands roam her body with no real intent for arousal.

They sipped their tea and let the soothing touch relax them both. The soft caresses, gentle kisses, and murmured words settled.

She stood and took his hand, she was ready to pass out. The day had sucked all her energy and he’d just soothed her to the point of being a puddle of goo. She wanted him naked and warm, and to snuggle with him.

He closed the door quietly and checked on Lily. The tiny girl was still out cold. He felt that overwhelming emotion for the child, the child who called him dad dad.

He turned to look at Sildie and her lips pressed against his softly. Slender fingers tenderly removed his shirt and jeans, his briefs following. She was tired but she wanted him, that slow give and take that helped her sleep, helped her heal.

“Sildie.” He breathed as his hands caressed her sides. “My Sildie.”

She was his, she wouldn’t be anyone else’s now. She was so in love with him but knew he wasn’t ready to hear those words yet. Ana had a lot to do with that. She wanted to tell him, to have him believe her but she felt if she told him now he’d spiral and she couldn’t handle the hurt, the rejection.

His hands tenderly removed her sweater and leggings. The black lace arousing him as his fingers brushed over it as he gently released her body from it.

He held her naked and soft against him, her curves pressing into him. The feel of her skin beneath his fingers as they trailed over her. Her lips supple as he kissed her with that love that was locked deeply inside him.

Laying her down he pressed her into the mattress with his full weight. She wrapped her legs around his hips and with a gently thrust he slipped inside her. His rhythm was slow, tender, but deep.

He intertwined his fingers with hers and held them as he took her. Neither of them able to touch the other.

“Look at me.” He whispered and saw her eyes find his in the faint glow from Lily’s night light.

He ground his pelvis against her clit and swallowed the soft cry as she came, that lush curvy body writhing beneath him. He quickened his pace a little before a quiet groan escaped his throat as he found release.

He rolled so she was on top and pulled the covers over them. She was almost asleep when he rolled again so she was half on the mattress and the rest of her curled into him.

“Thank you.” She murmured.

“What for love?” He was puzzled.

“For today. For listening.” She yawned and threw her leg over his getting comfortable. “For being here with me.”

“Always.” He kissed the top of her head and smiled. She’d gone under. “Always love.”

He let his mind blank and breathed in the woman in his arms. Sleep took him just quickly.

[nastyatticman]

75 and 76 for Chance and Sidney?

Thank you! This got really long so under the cut... 

Also big thanks to my gay lover @nastywaterman for helping me with Croatian food info <3

75. What’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for you?

Chance looks up for a second, then laughs. “Oh god, this is gonna be embarrassing. Anyway. One time I met someone through… questionable means. And I asked them out to dinner. I figured what the hell, they didn’t kill me when they had the chance right? 

But of course they didn’t show. I got reservations for us, too. People could tell I got stood up. It was awkward as fuck but these two older queers who were also waiting asked me if I wanted to eat with them. I said yes, as long as it wouldn’t trouble them, and we somehow got into talking about gay shit and I found out I was talking to two old punks! We had a great time and they gave me some much needed advice. Like, my family’s alright but they don’t do well with the.. queer trans non monogamy thing. But these people though! I felt like they really got me. 

Eventually the night had to end, and they paid my part of the bill because they knew I was a student. I ended up exchanging emails with one of them and we still talk sometimes.”

--

Sidney leans on his hand a moment. “Hmm. I think it would have to be my first furry convention. It was for my 19th birthday. Nothing huge happened, but… well actually it was huge for me. At the time.

We had some… stuff going on at home. Like, even as my parents dropped us off they were still-“ he pauses, scrunching his nose in disgust and anger.

“Anyway. My parents dropped Tori and me off at the convention center. She did not want to be there. They made her come anyway of course because, I don’t know, they probably thought I’d get kidnapped or go to a gay rave orgy if I didn’t have my kid sister with me.

But she could tell that the con meant a lot to me, even if our morning was bad, so she walked with me through all of it. All the weird stuff too. She still didn’t get it but she got us boba and sat down and asked me what the appeal for the furry fandom was - not judgmentally, she just was genuinely curious because there’s so many facets to the fandom she didn’t know where to start.

One lengthy explanation later… She said she still didn’t get it all (I don’t blame her), but she was more curious. She was starting to understand some of the stuff I liked, and she even told me she wanted to make a fursona since she actually thought my art was cool. 

I’ve never let her live that down. But anyway, I ended up explaining more stuff to her and she was starting to enjoy herself too. 

At one point we passed my favorite fursuiter, one I followed online for years. I was super excited to see them but I didn’t want to approach. We were just in the artist alley, but I didn’t want to come off as rude or annoying or anything. Tori ended up going over and asking them for a picture for me! I got a good picture of them, with them, and we even ended up talking after too!

It was just a really surreal experience, I would’ve thought I dreamed the whole thing if I didn’t have pictures.”

76. What’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for someone?

Chance nods and starts to speak. “Okay, I can’t take all the credit for this one, but it was my idea…

“One of my roommates was stressing over a big presentation she had to give in one of her classes. It was midterm season too, and she got some of the other midterms done early but the presentation scared her the most. 

“We all pitched in with helping her practice, giving her feedback, and helping proofread her slides. Well, when we could, since we were all also studying. But she seemed to be really going through it and we wanted to do something extra for her once she got it done.

“I remembered she mentioned a while ago that she was starting to miss her mom’s cooking, especially since it was so hard to get Croatian food here... 

“Lucky - for us, not her - her presentation was later in the day, so we had plenty of time to get prepared. I went out to a European bakery kinda far off and picked up some bread for cevapi and chocolate wafer cake for dessert. The others were making some stuff to go with it.

“When she got home she was completely drained, but she was able to walk into the kitchen to see what we made for her - it wasn’t perfect but she loved it! 

“Like, we didn’t expect it to all taste right or anything, and it didn’t since we weren’t familiar with Croatian food, but she said she’d help us make it again…”

--

Sidney smiles and leans in like he’s got a big secret. “One time someone - I won’t name any names - was going through a rough patch.

“She was looking forward to Valentine’s Day with her boyfriend at the time - she got a whole new outfit and everything. but then he dumped her not even a week before with no warning. She was functioning alright but I could tell she was depressed all week. 

“So… I took things into my own hands. 

“I got up extra early and made a few stops. When she woke up I showed her that I made heart shaped pancakes for us, and I got her some pink and yellow flowers. The colors didn’t really match, I know, but those are her favorites. I was like, just because you got dumped doesn’t mean we can’t have a good day together, right? 

“We mostly sat around and watched our favorite movies together, and then went out and got dinner and dessert. She even got the chance to wear her new outfit too! I mean, I can’t forget after all those pictures she made me take for her insta… But anyway we had a great day together, without any stupid guys to bother us.”

[sleepfight]

Bart’s Tattoo

I’m still on my first rough-draft so this is still a little messy and bare bones but since I’m posting more Bart art, I thought I’d share a little excerpt from my fic where Bart tells Uri the story behind his desert rose tattoo.

Uri belongs to @iigoeyei! TW for referenced child abuse, internalized ableism, mental health issues, and alcohol consumption  

Uri knocks back the last of his beer and crushes the can in his fist before chucking it blindly into the flatbed of his truck behind them.  

“What about this one?” He asks and hooks a finger into the collar of Bart’s hoodie so that he can tug it down, exposing the soft, pink petals of the tattoo on his neck. “It looks older than your other ones.”

Bart looks down at his feet as they swing below him, restless hands fidgeting with his own beer. He’s quiet for a moment, trying to think of how he can condense the story of this tattoo in a way that won’t leave them parked in the oppressive humidity all night, but he doesn’t think Uri would mind if they did. That’s why Uri is one of Bart’s favorite people; he has an abundance of patience regardless of whether Bart is going a million miles a minute or has been paralyzed by silence.

He drops one shoulder so that he can pull his shirt down further, letting Uri have a better look. The tattoo is one of his oldest but the colors are still vibrant and the shades of blended pink and yellow stand out against his otherwise chalky complexion like a rash; a flash of something beautiful somewhere it doesn’t belong. 

“It’s a desert rose,” Bart murmurs while Uri tilts his head closer and scrutinizes the small flower. “When I was a kid, we had a neighbor who was really into nature-mysticism and shit. Lynn-Marie Porter. She used to watch me and my sister sometimes after church and she’d make us help her in the pastor’s garden, picking weeds and stuff like that. She made us memorize different types of plants and flowers and what they meant.”

“You mean like if they were poisonous?” Uri asks.

“No, like what they represented. Spiritually, or whatever.” 

“And there were desert roses in the garden, I take it?”

“No.” Bart scowls and stares at the ground. He doesn’t like telling this story, it makes him feel stupid. 

“I was always--I was a different kid,” he says, voice low enough that it can’t carry with the sound of croaking frogs or rustling catkins in the pond, content to keep this between Uri and himself. “My parents took me to all kinds of doctors but they gave up after a few years and everybody in town knew it. Most of ‘em just accepted I wasn’t right and let me be but just as many people tried to stick their noses in with ‘advice’ on how to fix me.”

Bart licks at his dry lips. “Miss Porter was one of those people. She kept telling my mom to hang a dreamcatcher above my bed or that she should put echinacea under my tongue before I went to sleep. One time, I got in trouble for yelling during Sunday service which is something dad would normally slap me around for but Miss Porter took me outside before he could. Sat me down in the garden and told me I had to start behaving properly if I wanted to stay welcome in God’s house.”

Uri’s brow wrinkles in distaste and he blows a long, exasperated sigh out of his nose. “Fuckin’ hell, church sucks,” he grumbles, reaching into the cooler for a fresh beer.

"You're named after an archangel, dude, I don't think you're allowed to say that," Bart smiles crookedly.

There was a time he enjoyed going to church, back when he still thought belief would be the refuge he needed from his own mind. Back when he was little and his ‘eccentricities’ were accepted as normal growing pains and the pastor would still reassure Bart and his parents that God’s love was eternal and unconditional; before the congregation started to view him as a troublesome distraction to be hidden in the back row where the good word barely reached his ears. 

“She told me I needed to find a desert rose and carry it with me wherever I went,” Bart continues after a long moment wherein Uri slurps loudly at his Budweiser and Bart picks the skin around his fingernails. 

“Said that a desert rose would help my brain be quiet and would help me--” he grimaces, almost a flinch. It all sounds so absurd now that he is an adult. “That it would make me understand my emotions and give me serenity.”

“So you got one tattooed?”

“Not at first,” Bart shakes his head. “I didn’t know what a desert rose looked like but I spent all summer looking for one. Got in more trouble rooting around in people’s lawns than I ever did fucking around in church.” 

Bart huffs a laugh, eyes unfocused on the horizon and setting sun. “I hunted everywhere. Broke into hardware stores, backyards… even took a bus all the way to Billings once because I heard MSU had a greenhouse but they wouldn’t let me in.” 

His hands flex around the can he holds and Bart scowls, familiar anger bubbling in his throat along with the equally intimate feelings of shame and inadequacy that are always resurrected when he thinks about his old life. 

“I thought if I could just find one, then all my problems would be solved and I’d get all my old friends back. That I would be normal for as long as I could hang onto it. I was completely obsessed.”

Uri smirks and nudges Bart’s ribs with his elbow, a good-natured jostle that pulls Bart back to the present. “Some things never change, huh?” He teases. “Did you ever manage to get your hands on one?”

“Naw,” Bart sighs. “When I was sixteen, I found a picture in a field guide and convinced my sister’s boyfriend to tattoo it for me. I figured that would be the next best thing if I couldn’t get a real one.”

Now comes the part of this story Bart hates telling and he yanks the zipper of his hoodie back up his neck despite the sweltering temperature. “I found out a few years later that she wasn’t even talking about flowers. A desert rose is a type of fuckin’ rock that hippies use to meditate with or some shit. I got a stupid flower tattoo for nothing.”

Uri leans back on his palms and considers Bart from beneath his eyelashes, brown eyes glowing amber in the dying light. His expression, so open and non-judgmental, makes Bart’s stomach churn. 

“Y’know,” Uri drawls. “I don’t know much about spirituality or however you’d define this kind of thing but I’m pretty sure it’s not the object that counts so much as your belief and conviction in what it does.” He claps a wide palm in the center of Bart’s back. “You were just a kid, misinterpreting the message is nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Yeah, well.” Bart drains his lukewarm beer in a few quick gulps and throws the can as far away from himself as he can manage, watching it sail into the approaching shadow of the treeline. “Belief obviously wasn’t enough because I’m still--” he points at his own ear and mimes a spiral with his finger, the universal sign for cuckoo-crazy. 

Uri’s face falls. “Bart,” he prods gently.

Bart shakes his head and pulls his hood up over his hair, burying himself beneath his clothes again before hopping off the hood and crossing to the passenger-side door. 

“I have shit to do tonight,” he grumbles and folds his exhausted body into the cab before Uri can stop him. “Take me home.”

[artificialqueens]

Mateo's Eight chapter 2 (Branjie) - athena2

Summary: Con artist Vanessa Mateo has just been released from prison, and she’s planning one last heist to erase her debts and start a new life for herself.

But for this to succeed, she needs the help of the very person who ratted her out to the cops: her ex-girlfriend, Brooke Lynn Hytes.

(An Ocean’s Eight AU)

Previously: Vanessa began setting up a heist and was forced to call her ex, who ratted her out to the cops Now: Brooke answers a phone call from Vanessa, who she hasn’t spoken to in six months

A/N: Thank you all so much for your feedback on chapter 1 and interest in this so far! It really helped encourage me and I hope you can leave some more on this chapter. Thank you to Writ for being the most amazing beta!

—

Brooke has a million reasons not to answer that phone.

Hell, she has a million reasons why she should have thrown the thing away in the first place.

But she didn’t.

She’s not only held on to the phone, but has also kept it fully charged in her bedside table, along with the pictures of her and Vanessa that hurt to look at, for six months.

Brooke had stared at it for hours after that day, the day when everything came crashing down around her. When the life they had imagined went up in smoke. After they released her from the police station, Brooke had dialed Vanessa’s number until her fingers ached and that number was the only thing in her head, trying to explain what happened, why she did it, even when she knew Vanessa wouldn’t answer, would never answer again because of what Brooke had done to her.

Brooke should have thrown the phone away then and there, killed her last connection to Vanessa, the same way she’s tried to kill her feelings. She’s succeeded for the most part, except for when she rolls over in bed, expecting to meet warmth and finding cold, empty space, when she goes four blocks out of her way to avoid the diner, when she automatically reaches for creamer in the grocery store even though she takes her coffee black.

She’s wide awake–Brooke doesn’t think she’s slept through the night in six months, when she started sleeping alone again–when the ringing tears through the room and makes her heart stop. That clunky Nokia would buzz in Brooke’s pocket and signal the start of a con, one they had built together in the diner, taking notes and picking steps apart as their feet in their scammed-for boots wrapped around each other under the table.

There’s no way anyone but Vanessa could be calling that phone. But why now? Why at all?

Brooke does some quick math in her head. It’s been six months since that day. Vanessa must be out of prison now. Could she really be calling Brooke after what she did? Brooke knows Vanessa won’t easily forgive something like that, if she’ll forgive it at all.

But she’s still calling, and there has to be a reason.

If this is a chance for Brooke to explain herself, tell Vanessa the secret she was hiding for all those months–the secret that forced her into confessing–she has to take it. At least it will help Brooke sleep better if Vanessa knows the truth.

“Who is this?”

—

Brooke frowns at the unfamiliar number on her phone screen. She barely answers the phone for people she does know, but she takes the chance and picks up anyway.

“Hello?” She asks.

“Brooke?”

“Yeah, um, who is this?” The voice is strangely familiar, with a roughness that makes Brooke’s heart pound.

“It’s Vanessa. You know, from the store?” Her question quirks up with hope at the end.

The phone almost slips through Brooke’s hands. She orders herself to stay calm despite the excitement burning through her, the endless possibilities on the other end of this call.

“Oh, hey, Vanessa,” Brooke says.

“Hey.” Is it just Brooke, or she can hear the smile in Vanessa’s voice? She pictures Vanessa’s bright teeth flashed in a grin for no one to see.

“So,” Brooke recovers herself quickly, “would you like to do something tonight?”

—

“How long have you been doing this stuff?” Brooke asks. Vanessa hovers around Brooke’s shoulder but is loud enough for Brooke to hear even with the honking cars and endless bustle of people.

“That day you found me was my first big one,” Vanessa admits sheepishly. “Before that it was just street stuff with my friend Silky. Three card Monte, that kinda thing.”

“Seriously?” Brooke asks. She leads Vanessa into a department store, their arms brushing quickly and making Brooke wish they could stay that way forever, that her arm could always feel the tingles of Vanessa against her. “I would’ve never guessed that was your first. You were so natural.”

“I was screamin’ on the inside, Mary,” Vanessa says. “I thought I was gonna piss myself a few times.”

Brooke snorts and nudges Vanessa toward the purses, gesturing at them all. “Pick a purse. Any purse.”

“You sound like a magician.” Vanessa giggles. “You got a magic wand and a cape somewhere?”

“Maybe,” Brooke teases. “I do have some tricks up my sleeve.”

“Will I ever get to see any of ‘em?” There’s a definite flirty tone to Vanessa’s question, one that makes Brooke’s cheeks flush and her mouth dry.

“Maybe,” she says with a nervous smile.

Vanessa raises her eyebrow and Brooke’s knees weaken. “Any purse I want?” Vanessa checks.

Brooke nods. She watches with a smile as Vanessa stalks among the purses like a lion after its prey, stroking the faux-leather and modelling them in the mirror. There’s such easy confidence in the way she moves, like she’s going to take up all the space she wants and everyone else just has to get out of her way. Brooke could watch her for days.

“This one.” Vanessa triumphantly hands Brooke a scarlet purse crisscrossed with little black studs.

Brooke peeks at the name and designer on the tag, blinking in shock at the number of zeros, then beckons Vanessa to follow her upstairs, looking down into the purse department from the second-floor balcony.

“Watch,” Brooke commands, enjoying herself maybe too much, wanting to show off a little for Vanessa. Vanessa’s brown eyes roam over her skin and Brooke’s whole body heats up.

Brooke calls the purse department, adjusts her voice, and begins. “Hi, this is Elizabeth Smith. Account number 415793. Can you get me this purse”–she gives the details she memorized from the tag– “and have it ready at the counter? My assistant will be there in a few minutes to pick it up. Just charge it to my store card. Sorry for the rush, it’s a present for someone and I’m late.”

Vanessa stares at her with an open mouth as the cashier takes the purse, rings it up, and bags it. Brooke then walks downstairs and pretends to be Elizabeth Smith’s assistant, returning upstairs and handing the bag to a still open-mouthed Vanessa. Brooke can’t help but smile. She’s never had someone else to share in the thrill of it all with her, someone to put her skills to use for.

“You must’ve been at this a while, then,” Vanessa says finally.

“A few months.” Brooke doesn’t want to talk about what stole her hope and pushed her into this, why she has so many bills. She doesn’t want to talk about the box under her bed where she stashes money in the hopes of affording a good lawyer one day. She’s just not ready for Vanessa to know yet.

“Well, you’re a pro.”

“I like the planning of it, I guess,” Brooke says, face flushing at the praise. Planning and organizing has calmed her since she was a kid, rearranging stuffed animals and alphabetizing books to drown out her parents arguing. A way of getting the control she didn’t have in her big, cold house. “Writing it all out, making sure it’ll work. That’s how I came up with this one. I was here yesterday. I heard Elizabeth Smith giving her info at the counter and planned it out,” Brooke explains.

“Holy shit,” Vanessa mumbles. “Well, thank you.”

Her awestruck eyes look up at Brooke, and the sheer joy of making Vanessa happy hits right in Brooke’s heart. It’s something she wants to experience forever.

“Hey,” Brooke says. “Um, next week, do you–can I take you on a date? A real date, with dinner and no scams?”

Vanessa smiles. “I’d like that.”

—

“I have something planned,” Vanessa says.

That’s the absolute last thing Brooke expected, especially when Vanessa hasn’t even been out of prison 24 hours yet, and it’s a few seconds before she can muster up words through her shock.

“No.” Brooke has given all that up, given up the schemes and lies and the designer clothes she scammed herself into. She’s lived a perfectly normal, perfectly safe (perfectly boring) life the past six months, another way to separate herself from the old life she had with Vanessa. She told herself she would never con again, that she would just chip away at her debts and the ever-rising interest rates using her paycheck from the dance studio like everyone else. No cons, no scams, no lies. (And no hope of ever freeing herself of those bills).

“It’s the biggest thing I’ve ever thought of. I need you to see this through.”

Vanessa needs her.

Those words would have once sent Brooke running no matter what time it was or what Vanessa needed. There were mornings when she woke early and the sun hit Vanessa’s face just right, and suddenly an angel was wrapped in the white sheets of Brooke’s bed. It was times like those that Brooke would have harnessed the damn moon and pulled it down if that was what Vanessa wanted.

“No.”

“I know you still have bills. They could all be gone in one night.” Vanessa was always quicker to show her emotions than Brooke was, feelings passing across her face and bursting in each word. She’s trying to keep them out here, trying to lure Brooke in with cool logic, but there’s a hint of desperation in her tone that she can’t quite conceal.

All her bills gone in one night. Brooke can’t let herself consider that possibility, because she doesn’t need this danger. But the relief of having her bills paid off, never having to worry about how to pay for groceries and electricity, is growing too great to resist. She’s been conning almost two years, saving money where she can in the hopes of paying things off, all of it feeling like one huge battle she’ll never win. One night could end that battle.

Brooke feels the itch tugging at her fingers, the thrill pulsing in her heart, the urge in her to just forget her boring life and rob someone blind, to send a giant middle finger to the universe that let her sink into tens of thousands of dollars in debt for medical bills when the assholes she conned had garages full of collectible million-dollar cars that collected nothing but dust.

Some part of her wants to do it, wants to fight for something again, wants to win. She didn’t fight hard enough when it counted in court, wasn’t able to win against her ex-husband, and he took the person she loves more than anyone. Vanessa is promising big money, probably enough for her to take him back to court and win.

But if this is the biggest thing Vanessa’s ever thought of, the risk must be astronomical. Vanessa always saw the reward, jumping into danger for the rush of the prize. Brooke was always stuck with the responsibility of seeing the risk, putting a net under each of Vanessa’s jumps, preparing for a fall. It had suited her–suited them–Vanessa with the drive to make it happen and Brooke with the meticulous nature to make sure it would work.

“No,” Brooke says for the third time, cursing herself inwardly for her stupid idea that Vanessa called to hear her side of things, that there was even a chance Vanessa still loves her. But it’s a lot harder for that refusal to come out than the other two.

“I didn’t want to do this…” Vanessa sighs, “but who’s to say I don’t go back to the cops and let them know who my accomplice was?”

Brooke stills, heartbeat in her ears. “You wouldn’t do that,” she manages around the lump of fear in her throat. The normal life she created for herself, the future she sometimes allows herself to dream of, everything she’s worked for, would all be ruined, just like that. Just like she had ruined Vanessa’s life.

Vanessa laughs bitterly. “Wouldn’t I? ‘Cause you did the exact same thing to me. After you promised you would always protect me.” Vanessa’s anger jumps through the phone and slaps Brooke in the face, but there’s a touch of pain under there. A touch of hurt in trusting the wrong person.

Brooke deserves it, she knows she does. But she can’t bear to have Vanessa in pain, especially when she caused it, even if she knows she had to do what she did. If only she could explain it, try to make Vanessa understand that Brooke never wanted to hurt her.

“Vanessa, I—”

“You help me, you get the money, and I stay quiet. I think you kind of owe me, don’t you?” Vanessa poses the final blow, and Brooke’s resolve crumbles. If she can do this for Vanessa, they can at least be even after what happened last August. They’ll each get their money and go their separate ways, though hearing Vanessa’s voice again makes Brooke realize how much she’s missed it, and she’s not sure she wants to go her separate way.

“How much?” Brooke asks.

Vanessa whispers the number in her ear.

Damn it. With that kind of money she can get rid of her debts once and for all, even with the interest. She won’t ever have to choose between paying the water or electricity bill, or silence her rumbling stomach when she smells fresh bread from a bakery. She can buy a nice house, set up a flower garden and a vegetable patch–hell, with that money she could buy a mansion with a freaking fountain in front–away from the dust and noise of the city, instead of this apartment that smells like fish and is barely big enough to fit her, sometimes suffocating in its size. It’s more than enough for a strong lawyer to help get Zoey back.

Brooke looks at the picture on her nightstand, blonde hair and blue eyes smiling back at her.

“I’m in,” Brooke says.

[embarrassingsmartphonegame]

Anything (Chapter 4) - Nik Ryder x f!MC

Summary: After surviving an attempt on her life, she discovers there are worse fates than dying. And they’re all ice cold.

Warnings for this chapter: swear words, very slightly NS*W, some secondhand embarrassment probably

Links to previous chapters: one // two // three

Leah Mendoza had done many, many awkward things in her life. And at least half of them involved her losing her clothes in some way, shape, or form; case in point: the time they revealed their secrets and underwear in the Fate’s mansion. But that night, she would’ve preferred facing the Fate in her underwear as she stared down her...former bodyguard? Ex? Guy she ran from once he started reciprocating her love after a week that culminated in a death experience for her? Well, what she called him didn’t matter, but it had been at least a few minutes and he was still staring at her in shock. She squirmed in her seat and briefly considered taking him to the ER to make sure nothing (at least nothing more than what she already knew) was wrong with him. But she sat there and let him take his time to process her practically breaking into his apartment after she disappeared for three months. 

“Umm…Nik?” Leah finally said something after a few more awkward minutes, the silence getting to her. She stood up and started walking towards him, and Nik seemed to snap out of his trance and immediately tackled her to the floor. She yelped as he pinned her to the ground with his body, his eyes dark. “Hey!”

“Shapeshifter, you’ve gone too far. I’m only gonna ask you this once: how the fuck did you get this form? How did you find her and what did you do?” His hands shook with unadulterated rage as they pinned hers above her head, and she shivered at the hateful look in his eyes.

“Nik, stop, it’s really me! Garrus let me in!” Leah pleaded, hoping that this wouldn’t be how she actually goes. “I can prove it if you let me up!”

“Nice try. I’ve given you too many chances. Hope hell is nice.” Shit. In a panic, Leah’s super strength suddenly kicked in and she surged forward and managed to flip their positions too quickly for him to react. Without thinking, she slipped her shirt off as she straddled him, exposing the three crimson, raised linear keloid scars on her chest. Another awkward moment that involved her stripping down to avoid certain death. She blushed as Nik laid there beneath her. He studied her scars and realization dawned on his face.

“Would a shapeshifter know what this looks like? Would they know what happened?” she questioned softly, vulnerable and exposed in more ways than one. She slowly got off him and slipped her shirt back on. Nik sat up and got off the ground, in a state of shock in his eyes again. She couldn’t tell if the blue-purple-almost black bags under his eyes were due to lack of sleep or getting punched in the face, and the dreadful part of her knew it was most likely due to both. She noted his new grown out stubble into a full beard and longer hair, and her usual inner dumbass would’ve thought it was hot if the hair clearly wasn’t grown due to him not caring. Leah decided to start saying what she needed to say to him.

“I...I came to apologize,” she began, awkwardly sitting on the floor with him and gazing sincerely into his eyes. “For how things turned out between us. I ran because I was afraid of everything that had happened and what I found out about my life, and hurt you in the process. You don’t need to forgive me; I wouldn’t forgive myself. I’m sorry. That’s all.”

Her open palm reached out and squeezed his hand one last time before she started to get up, but his hand found hers again and pulled her back. “Wait.”

And oh, would she have waited forever if he asked. Nik looked at her with what seemed to be fresh eyes, as if he was seeing her for the first time. He studied her intently and carefully placed his hand on her cheek. Leah felt extremely self conscious about her own messy, grown out hair and dark purple eye bags, and even more about her unintentional weight loss and old hickeys on her neck. He ran his rough fingers gently over the side of her face.

“R—Leah…” he quickly corrected himself, remembering that things weren’t the same as they were before. “You’re really here.”

“I am, Nik. I’m here.”

“But how? Why?”

“I needed to make things right with us. What happened...I couldn’t live with myself. Especially knowing from Ivy, Krom, and Garrus how you are now.”

“I mean...you’re not exactly in the best shape either. No offense.” His own tired eyes searched hers, and she could see the steel walls stacked flush against each other in an impenetrable fortress guarding his heart. “Is that it? Because you knew—and I told you this when I was being an idiot at that time—that I wouldn’t be fine. And I do have another job in a few hours.”

Leah shook her head. “No, it’s not. And to be honest, I’m scared to let this all out. You probably won’t wanna hear it; I should let you get to sleep.”

Nik seemed to think for a moment. “Try me. I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway.” 

He pulled her up and led her to his couch. They kept a careful distance apart so that they were close enough for whoever was brave enough to reach out but far enough that they weren’t too tempted. His expression was in a perfectly neutral expression, save for a furrow on his left eyebrow that indicated the smallest form of curiosity. She couldn’t see through his steel walls that he built around himself the night she left, and her heart sank in realization that he probably hated her after all this time. Leah steeled herself and began talking.

“So I ran back to my life in Wyoming, even though I was planning on leaving my job anyway even before I came to New Orleans. But after everything that happened...I just couldn’t take it. And when you were out of my life...I felt nothing. Absolutely...nothing. I was going through the daily motions of my shitty office job and paying the bills. I tried to dance again, tried to sing, tried to play the violin. Tried to find anything, anything to fill the void. Found other people and had a different person in my bed each night...still nothing,” she puffed out all in one breath, noting how Nik inhaled sharply at her last statement yet stayed silent, allowing her to continue. “I woke up in an empty apartment every day and it was exactly like Katherine said, I was freezing to death in absolutely nothing. And when I...died...I felt nothing. Going back to my old life without you...it felt like I was dead.” 

Nik couldn’t believe what he was hearing; his heart pounded in his chest. “You really mean that?”

“Yes,” she continued her confession. “I’m not expecting anything and know that this entire thing might even be selfish when you’re trying to move on with your life, but I wanted you to at least know that I’m really sorry for how things ended between us.”

Nik stayed silent for a moment before he became the brave one and reached for her hand. He interlaced their fingers together, and she found comfort in the warmth of his calloused, dirty palm against hers. “Dammit Leah...you know I’m not good at this stuff and that’s what caused all this in the first place.”

She laughed mirthlessly. “You’re talking to the girl who ran back to Wyoming of all places after you told me you loved me.”

Nik shook his head and began to speak, hoping his words were right this time. 

“I couldn’t move on, not after everything that happened between us. It’s why I’ve been working so much. I never would’ve pushed you away at the parade if I knew it might’ve been the last time I saw you. When you were on the ground, bleeding and cold and dead…” Leah could’ve sworn she heard him choke on his words, but she let him continue. “I thought loving someone was scarier than anything...I was wrong. The scariest thing was losing you.”

Boom. Leah heard the metaphorical walls crash down. She had never seen him look so vulnerable, even when she left him three months before. Matching his bravery, she cautiously wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against the crook of his neck. His arms found their way around her smaller form, and he squeezed her as if his life depended on it. The pair stayed like that for God knows how long, letting a few tears slip out. As the sun began to rise, they finally let go and faced each other.

“Where do we go from here?” Leah asked, playing with the shorter hairs on the nape of his neck. “Honestly, I wasn’t expecting you to hear me out. I thought you hated me by now.”

Nik pressed his forehead against hers. “I could never hate you...rook.”

Her heart soared at cadence of the familiar nickname, and she smiled genuinely. Nik felt his heart leap at her smile, and it took all of his willpower not to surge forward and take things too far. It didn’t feel right. He instead continued, “It’s your call. But I will say this: nothing about my feelings for you have changed. You...you still make me feel like a real person.”

Leah thought about it for a moment before continuing to speak genuinely. “Well...nothing about my feelings for you have changed either. But I’m still a fucking wreck…like therapy for life level wreck.”

Nik nodded tersely, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I understand.”

“Wait wait wait,” Leah quickly clarified, taking his hands in hers. “I may be a wreck who needs to get her life together, but if I learned anything, it’s that I don’t want just anything. I want you. Only you. Just maybe...we should take it slow? That week we had was way too fast. And I’m not gonna count me sitting on you with my shirt off last night.”

“I...can’t say I disagree.” Nik chuckled softly, reminiscing. “No other job could compare since then.”

“Just a job?” she teased, her heart lighter than it had been for a while.

“At this point I’d call it a career,” he teased back, their old dynamic naturally resurfacing. At the mention of a career, Leah groaned, yanking herself back from la-la land.

“I literally came back to New Orleans because I was so miserable with my job and life in Wyoming. I’m definitely fired for this, but I’m not too upset about it. Just don’t know what to do for work now.”

“Do you really have no ideas?”

“Well I do have one.” She stared down at the palms of her hands. “I haven’t been able to use my powers since my father died, and I was considering training under Lady Thalissa’s wing and helping out with Lamrian. I still feel guilty that they’re in this situation because of me.”

“Rook, you know that happened ‘cuz your punk ass brother let that thing in,” Nik said firmly, cradling her hands in his. “And if you’re sure you’re ready, that sounds like a great idea.”

“I’m really not sure, but I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try.” Leah focused all of her energy into the palms of her hands, willing them to glow. But nothing. Zilch. Nada. She sighed, figuring that it might be better when she arrived in Lamrian.

“So...wanna explain why you tackled me earlier and thought I was a shapeshifter?” she changed the subject, genuinely curious. 

Nik rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Well, a few weeks ago I kinda pissed off this shapeshifter by putting his brother in jail for grave robbing. No idea why he was grave robbing, but that’s besides the point. Had it out for me since and transformed himself into Garrus, Krom, and Ivy at least a few times since he’s seen me pretty much only go in and out of the Graveyard Shift if I’m not on a job. When I saw you, I thought that maybe the bastard somehow found out about us and got to you and…”

He took a deep breath. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you, of all people, getting hurt. Especially because of me. Not again.”

Leah hugged him again, rubbing circles on his back. “Well, I’m here to stay. I’m not leaving you again. I hope things work out for me in Lamrian. If not...Garrus did offer me a job earlier.”

For the first time in a long time, she felt her optimism creep back up. Maybe things were going to be okay after all, even if she really didn’t know what she was doing with her life at that point.

“So when do you wanna do this?” Nik asked. “Going to Lamrian? I’m going with you.”

“Nik, you’ve already done so much for me; you don’t have to. Also, don’t you have a bunch of other jobs lined up already?”

Nik shrugged. “My next job just told me they want that ghoul gone by the end of the week. I got time. And I want to be with you.”

Leah nodded, secretly relieved that she didn’t have to go alone. “Thank you, Nik. But maybe we should at least get some sleep before then? And you should rest that limp. I’ll go back to my motel and see you back here in a few hours.”

A sudden wave of exhaustion immersed them both; neither of them had gotten much sleep in the past three months. Nik was about to pull her closer and tell her she could stay but decided against it. They did say they wanted to take things slow, whatever that meant for them. Instead he nodded and called a cab for her, knowing with contentedness that he would see her again. Eventually Leah ended up back at her motel, and both slept well in the same city for the first time in forever. Everything was finally different for her, and this time she couldn’t help but be glad.

==============================================

A/N: Lol updating schedule? What updating schedule? This chapter came out a lot faster than the previous one due to me finally learning how to procrasti--I mean, practice self care in med school. Changed my mind a few times for how many chapters total; there are 2 more chapters of this story left before I work more on my next Nightbound series. Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading 🖤

Tagging: @furiouscloddonutpeanut @nighthunterkatherine @saivilo @samara-rani @god-save-the-keen @xxdangerouscapri15xx @inlovewithrebels 

[cruisercrusher]

Dicktiger week day 3- Drunk

“Last night I dreamed you said you loved me, and it was oh so vivid and sweet”

Listen, for the record, just because Dick was relatively well adjusted compared to the rest of his family didn’t necessarily mean he always had good coping mechanisms.

Like right now.

Normally, Dick did his best to avoid alcohol. A few unfortunate experiences in the wild child days of his youth had made him wary of the stuff, as well as the knowledge that his adhd made him more susceptible to addiction. Normally, he didn’t like to take chances like that.

Normally, Dick didn’t feel like he was suffocating, didn’t feel like his body and soul were slowly being crushed under the weight on his shoulders, and his heart. Normally he didn’t feel like Atlas condemned. Normally, he could handle a minor inconvenience like missing his bus without feeling a beat from breaking down in the middle of the sidewalk. Normally he didn’t feel so lonely and out of it that it was as if he were living in a separate dimension, his friends and family all on the other side of greasy, blurry glass. Thick, bulletproof, impenetrable glass.

So normally, Dick didn’t find himself hunched over the polished surface of the bar in some hole in the wall a few blocks down from his apartment at one am, nursing his however-too-many-th drink of the night.

He leaned back up to ask the bartender for a refill, but before he could make his mouth open and make words come out he swayed dangerously on his stool, nearly toppling back onto the floor. The bartender had to grab him by the front of his shirt and drag him forward to keep him from falling.

“I think you’ve had enough.” Said the bartender when she got Dick straightened out, pointing a stern finger at him.

Dick pouted, putting on his best puppy dog eyes. “Aw… please? Just one more?” He pushed his glass forward.

The bartender considered this for a moment. Eventually the puppy dog eyes won out and she conceded.

“Fine, only a little bit, and it’s your last one, but only because you’re cute, okay?” She said, pouring a tiny little bit more into Dick’s glass.

Dick frowned deeply, leaning away like he’d been burned. “No! Stop it! See, that’s what I’m talking about!” He wailed, even though he hadn’t really been talking about anything thus far so much as mumbling incoherently into the bartop.

“Everyone is always looking at me! People always look at me, but they never see me, they only look at me because they think they just can because of how I look or how I’m dressed and I just— why can’t people ever look at me on my terms?”

The bartender watched, shocked silent by Dick’s outburst, as he ran his hands frantically through his hair and glared at the shiny wood of the bar. She cleared her throat uncomfortably.

“Okay, uh, you know what, actually, I’m sorry,” She said. “I shouldn’t have tried to flirt with you while you’re inebriated anyway. That was my bad.”

That seemed to calm Dick down a bit. He continued to stare at the bar, sniffing slightly. “It’s okay.” He said. “Thank you for apologizing. I just wish— I wish people would stop acting like they’re enti— entitled to me and my body or whatever. It got old fast.”

The bartender hummed in understanding, slowly sliding Dick’s forgotten drink away. Yeah, he had had enough, actually.

“I wish having a body was optional.” Dick concluded miserably.

The bartender didn’t have anything to say to that. A few minutes passed as Dick continued to stare into space, lost in his thoughts.

The little bell on the door jingled lightly as someone walked into the nearly empty bar.

“Grayson.”

Dick whipped around at the sound of a familiar voice next to him. He overshot, though, and lost his balance, toppling fully off his barstool. Tiger was barely able to catch him in time before he hit the floor.

Dick giggled drunkenly, gazing up at the other man with wide eyes. “Heyyy, Tony,” Dick said around an alcohol heavy tongue. “What’re you doin’ here?”

Tiger glared at Dick. “We were supposed to meet tonight. You never showed up. I’ve been looking for you all night.”

Dick managed to right himself until he was (sort of) standing on his own two feet. His face fell. “Oh no,” he gasped, guilt sinking heavy in his gut like a stone. “I’m so sorry, I totally forgot… I’ve had a rough day.”

“I can see that,” Tiger grumbled. He kept a steadying hand on Dick’s side. “I— it’s alright. I was just worried about you, idiot. Disappearing without a trace is unlike you.”

“‘M sorry…” Dick said again, slumping forward into Tiger’s chest, resting his chin on Tiger’s shoulder. Exhaustion pulled at him suddenly, and Tiger should sense it. He fished his wallet out of his pocket one handed, the other still wrapped around Dick, and dropped a few bills down onto the bartop for the bartender to collect.

“Did you leave her a really big tip?” Dick asked as Tiger started leading him out the door. “Make sure to leave a big tip, she was nice!”

Tiger sighed. “Yes, I did, as recompense for having to put up with you.”

“M’kay.” Dick waved goodbye to the bartender and she waved back. Then they were out the door and Tiger was leading Dick down the street towards his apartment.

Getting there wasn’t that hard, but about halfway up the stairs Dick started to go limp, and Tiger had to carry him the rest of the way up with a forced longsuffering sigh.

Now inside the apartment, Tiger took a second to look around in disgust at the mess before dumping Dick unceremoniously down onto the couch, which was miraculously clear of clutter. Dick was just happy to finally be horizontal, and burrowed deeper into the lumpy cushion.

Tiger went to the kitchen and filled a glass of water at the sink.

“Tiger?” Dick called from the living room, voice filled with panic. “Where’d you go?”

“Here, Richard,” Tiger walked back into Dick’s line of sight, glass of water in hand. Dick was sitting up on the couch, all semblance of sleepiness forgotten. The line of his shoulders was tense and he was gripping the cushion with white knuckles. Tiger noticed, with mild alarm, heavy tears gathered in Dick’s eyes, threatening to fall at any second.

“Oh, good,” Dick breathed. “I thought you’d left me.”

Tiger frowned. “Why would I have left?”

Dick looked down, biting his lip. “Well… because everyone does.” He whispered. “Whether they meant to or not.”

Tiger’s frown deepened, concern tugging at his insides. “Richard? What do you mean?”

“I mean… Tiger, either I stop being able to please people and they toss me aside or they just die.” A tear escaped down Dick’s cheek, then another, and another, until they were pouring out in streams and his breath came in gasps and sobs. “I’m so alone, Tiger, please— please don’t leave me alone. I’m afraid of what I might do if I’m alone tonight.”

A stabbing pain ripped its way through Tiger’s heart upon hearing Dick’s choked out words. Quickly he set the glass aside and kneeled on the floor in front of Dick, reaching forward. As gently as he could, more gently than Tiger had ever done anything, he wiped away Dick’s tears and pulled him into a tight embrace.

Dick openly sobbed into his shoulder, the dam that kept all these negative emotions at bay broken. This was just how Dick did feelings— he locked it away, and when it became too much he let it all out at once, and when it started it couldn’t stop again until he was completely drained. Then the process would begin again in the morning.

Tiger pulled him closer. Dick grabbed the back of Tiger’s shirt and held on tight, way too tight, like he thought it he let go for even a second Tiger would disappear. Actually, maybe that was genuinely what Dick thought. The man was still very inebriated. All Tiger could do was hold him through it.

It physically hurt, now, like a serrated blade sawing it’s way through Tiger’s ribs, to think about the pain he used to want to inflict on this man. What a fool his past self had been, to only see the shallowest, most artificial parts of the man in his arms right now.

Eventually Dick’s tears started to subside, and, slightly calmer, he pulled his face out of Tiger’s neck. Tiger said nothing, had no words, not right now, only picked up the glass of water once again and offered it to Dick.

Dick took the glass with shaking hands and raised it slowly to his lips. Tiger helped him keep steady as he sipped the water, and ran a hand soothingly through Dick’s hair. He pushed his sweaty bangs off his forehead, absentmindedly thinking that Dick needed to wash his hair.

They did that until the glass was empty, and Tiger set it aside again.

“Why are you being so kind to me?” Dick asked suddenly, voice smaller than it had any right to be.

“What do you mean?”

Dick sniffled. “You used to hate me. You-- you’re supposed to hate me. But you don’t anymore.”

Tiger didn’t know what to say. Dick was saying it like it was a bad thing. “I… do you want me to hate you?”

Dick buried his face in his hands, shaking his head vigorously. “Yes-- no-- I don’t know! I don’t wan’ you to hate me but-- but-- but you should hate me. I deserve it.” His shoulders started to shake. Tiger was sure he was crying again.

“Richard-- Dick, no. You don’t deserve to be hated. You deserve so much, but never that. You deserve all the love and good things in the world. Never that.” Tiger said, desperate for Dick to understand. Dick was-- Dick wasn’t perfect, but he was also the most wonderful person in the world. He’d saved Tiger from himself without even realizing what he’d done. For him to not see his own value was an unrivaled tragedy.

Tiger sat next to Dick on the couch and put what he hoped was a comforting hand around his shoulders. Dick leaned into the tough until he was practically lying on Tiger’s chest. Tiger continued to play with his hair as more tears soaked his shirt. At least, Tiger thought, this bout of crying is much less hysterical.

“I’m sorry you have to see this…” Dick said into his chest, voice muffled. “Normally people only ever see happy, cheerful Dick, who smiles and cracks jokes and doesn’t let anything get him down, but… but it’s all a façade. A mask. I told myself all my life I wouldn’t end up like Bruce, I could let myself be happy, but, in the end… in the end I am all the parts of him I never wanted to be. God, aren’t I pathetic? Sometimes I don’t think I could be happy if I tried.”

Tiger hummed. “You’re far from pathetic, Dick.” He said, keeping his voice low, aware that Dick would likely be drifting off to sleep soon. “You’re the strongest and most honourable man I know. You will get through this, and you will come out on top, of that I am certain.”

“Thank you… Tiger, I-- please… don’t leave… stay with me tonight?”

Tiger hummed again. “Of course I will.”

Dick let out a long sigh, and his tears finally stopped for good. He buried his face into Tiger’s chest, despite how uncomfortable the material of the man’s armoured vest was. Tiger in turn wrapped his arms around Dick, holding him close and tight like he obviously needed.

Within minutes Dick had drifted into a heavy but fitful sleep, and Tiger sighed, rising from the couch and lifting Dick with him. He carried him to his bedroom and carefully placed him on the bed. Slowly, Tiger removed Dick’s socks and his jeans (thankful that the man was wearing underwear, as he had been uncertain due to Dick’s past jokes about going commando, and he didn’t want to accidentally see something Dick didn’t want him to see) and replaced them with a pair of gray sweatpants he found on the floor. Then he grabbed the thick duvet from its crumpled up position at the foot of the bed and straightened it out, pulling it up to Dick’s chin and tucking him in. Then, sentimentality controlling his hands, he pushed Dick’s bangs back again.

Tiger did not have many opportunities for casual touch.

He pulled away, intent on spending the night on the couch, when a hand shot out from under the covers and grabbed his wrist.

“You promised you’d stay…?” Dick mumbled, awake again, if only barely, and looking up at him with misty, irresistible eyes.

“I know, I’m just going to the living room.” He made to extract his hand, but Dick only gripped tighter and tugged him closer.

“Stay.”

Tiger sighed again. “Fine.”

He pulled off his keffiyeh, gloves and vest, then unlaced his boots and removed his socks, before moving to the other side of the bed. He lifted the covers and climbed in, settling in at a perfectly reasonable and polite distance away from Dick, which he could do easily because it was a rather large bed. But the minute he settled in Dick scooted over and draped himself all across him.

Dick smiled as he laid his head on Tiger’s chest. Like this, without the vest, he could hear Tiger’s heart beating and the heat of his skin. It soothed something deep inside of him. He smiled wider when Tiger wrapped his arms around him again, and he quickly started to fall properly asleep like that. He mumbled into Tiger’s chest as the last dredges of consciousness started to leave him.

“You really don’t hate me anymore?”

“No,” Tiger said, looking up at the ceiling. “I haven’t hated you in a long time.” He glanced down at Dick, and, seeing that his eyes were closed, confident he had fully fallen asleep, Tiger finished his thought aloud. “In fact, I think… at some point over the years, I fell in love with you instead.”

Dick didn’t react, and Tiger was perfectly perfectly fine with the idea that he didn’t even hear Tiger’s confession.