#a. curt's little hops he's so cute

[meyerlansky]

guess who can hit their target at night!

[thedevilspearl]

wear the hat, ride the cowboy — obey me

a/n: as promised, here are the obey me cowboys with the most votes, sorry it took so long to post ╥﹏╥ dia was originally meant to be included in this but his part got super long and will be posted as a separate fic <3

tags: 2.0k words, female reader x mammon (smoking, blowjob, riding, car sex) + beelzebub (size difference, size kink, riding, mating press). minors do not interact!

𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍

clouds of smoke blow from mammon’s mouth as he looks down at you. you work wonders on his cock and he hisses as his tip hits the back of your throat.

“what a good girl.” he mumbles in a gruff voice and takes another puff of his cigar. “so pretty.”

he looks out over his ranch as he leans against his truck. you’re on your knees against the ground with your hands digging into his jeans as you face fuck him. his cock fills up your mouth and you pray for this to end with him filling up your pussy too.

you drove out with him to the edge of his ranch this morning to help him fix up a faulty fence. but there was little you could do in your little summer dress and cute cowboy boots. and mammon knew that so he told you to sit back and watch him while he works.

he wouldn’t want you to get your boots dirty. he knows how much you love them.

but as the hours passed under the beating sun, he began to speculate if you ever intended to help at all.

you were having fun sitting in the truck singing along to country music while wearing the hat you stole from him. but he felt your gaze on him; the constant burning on his back wasn’t coming from the high sun, but from your direction.

every time he glanced at you, you had your head in your hands with your elbows propped up on the open window of his truck, eyes glued to him and raking up and down his form as he dug a new fence into the ground.

to make an old cowboy like him blush is not an easy feat. but from the way you watched him closely as he worked on the fence, checking him out until he was sweating through his shirt, mammon felt both adored and turned on.

his cock began throbbing in his jeans and he wondered what kind of things he could do to you in that little dress. while you were benefiting from air conditioning in the truck, mammon’s body was growing hotter and hotter from the thought of you.

and when he was finally done, you jumped out the truck and pressed a kiss to his cheek while he lit up a cigar to relax.

“you worked so hard, baby,” you smile. “you deserve a reward.”

and that’s how you ended up on the ground with his cock deep in your throat. he exhales breathily, resting his head against the truck as you work him up to his orgasm. tension dissolves in his muscles from a simple swipe of your tongue, and before he knows it, he’s shooting ropes of cum down your throat.

the quiet air of the ranch is overcome with his groans and you feel your arousal sticking to your panties as you rub your thighs together for friction.

“is it my turn now?” you pant.

“i thought this was supposed to be my reward.”

“it is,” you grin. “and i’m the reward.”

he smirks in that infamously sexy way and swings open the truck door. as he settles in the driver’s seat, he pats his lap and says “hop on, darlin’.”

with a curt nod bringing your attention back to his hat on your head, know exactly what he means. it’s convenient how every single time you wear his hat, it ends with you riding him at any time and in any place.

he ruffles his hands through his hair while you fidget until you’re comfortable straddling him and he keeps his cigar in his other hand

“ready?” you tease, and wait for his charming wink before pulling aside your panties and sinking down on his cock. “oh my god!”

“not god,” he grunts. “it’s my cock that’s making ya feel good.”

“fuck!”

his hands grip your hips, digging into the flesh as you bounce up and down. you leverage yourself on the wheel, grabbing onto it behind you to hold yourself up while your hips do all the work and it allows you to spread your legs wider.

mammon is wholly enticed by the view, eyes locked on the way your pussy swallows his cock and coats it in a sheen of mixed arousal.

no words are needed. instead, a cacophony of moans and groans fill the vehicle and slowly turns into loud gasps and grunts mixing with the wet sounds of your pussy grinding on his cock.

you bounce with a messy rhythm and his cock hits all the right places, building up the tension in your gut and with one last bounce your body quivers around him. pleasure explodes and ripples through your twitching muscles and your eyes brim with tears.

“mammon!” you scream. “i’m cumming!”

“that’s it, baby,” he grunts. “cum all over my cock.”

he sticks his cigar between his teeth and uses both hands to grab your hips and fuck your trembling body on his cock. you look so pretty in that dress, and even prettier with his cock filling you up.

he rolls his hips slightly, gently fucking you both through the orgasm and his lips attach to the skin of your neck, sucking and biting with desperation.

you lean back gasping, resting against the steering wheel. with your head tossed back, mammon’s hat loses its balance but before it can slip off, you catch it and place it perfectly back on your head.

mammon can’t help but feel amused at the sight, a sense of pride filling his body as his orgasm fades.

he’s never been more happy to lend you his hat.

“attagirl.”

𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐙𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐁

the metal bed frame squeaks from your vigorous spirit. bouncing on beel’s cock often feels like a chore because of its sheer size, especially when you’re doing all the work on top.

your thighs burn from lifting your hips up and down on his length. his cock is long and thick, making it more efficient to plant your feet into the mattress next to his thighs and wrap your arms around his neck for leverage as you slam down on him.

but it requires a lot of energy, good cardio and a whole lot of stamina which you’re beginning to run out of.

beel helps you a little, but he’s riled up and wants to see how long you can keep going before timing out.

and despite your aching muscles and desperate lungs, you keep going, working his thick cock in your greedy pussy because you are not one to lose a bet.

a few hours ago, beel had taken you to the local bar for a drink with his buddies where the conversation had naturally turned more adult. and if it wasn’t the talk alone that slowly turned you on, it was everyone’s interest in yours and beel’s sex life.

beel is a big guy. huge. no one could compare to his massive build. and you are significantly shorter than the cowboy, barely reaching his shoulders.

you always thought the size difference was a good thing. you’re at the perfect height to bury your face in his chest. and beel always grabs things from the top shelf for you. you work perfectly in unison regardless of size discrepancies.

but you didn’t realise the size difference meant everyone else would look at you and assume beel does all the work in the bedroom. it apparently fuelled everyone’s dirty minds and the teasing was endless.

they weren’t wrong.

beel does the work in the bedroom most of the time, but a small part of you felt offended by their condescending jokes that implied you were incapable of taking on a dominant role. you looked at beel, expecting him to defend you and tell them about all the times — the few times — you took the lead in the bedroom, but he sipped his drink quietly, letting them continue their joking.

you’re still unsure of what came over you in the moment, but you decided you were in a daring mood and scoffed loudly before saying:

“how about i ride ya tonight, cowboy?” you smirk. “i’ll remind ya how good i am at fucking ya sorry ass.”

beel stared at you wide–eyed and speechless and you swiped his hat from him and placed it atop your own head, earning jeers and whistles from the group.

beel has never been a confrontational person, in small matters at least. but he had no hesitation in grabbing your wrist and dragging you out of the bar. the usually long drive passed quick enough as he sped down the gravel roads back to the ranch. and the entire time, his hands reached over the console squeezing your thighs and groping between your legs.

when you arrived home, he hoisted you over his shoulder and marched to the bedroom, collapsing onto the old, creaky bed with a grunt. you’ve told him numerous times to replace the bed because it’s far too noisy, especially when you’re going at it like wild animals.

but there’s always something more important on the ranch that needs replacing and the squeaking bedframe, as irritating as it is, stands as a reminder that any bed, new or old, will undoubtedly make noise as long as beel is fucking you on it.

if anything, the noisy bedframe acts as competition for beel. he’ll fuck you so good that you’ll scream his name loud enough for the bed squeaking to be a long–forgotten thought.

but tonight, you’re stuck bouncing on his cock, disguising your breathlessness as moans and doing your best to hide the pain in your thighs.

riding beel is a workout and a half and you wonder if that’s why he’s always keen to be on top, because he doesn’t want you getting tired, which evidently means you can last longer because right now you’re not sure how much longer you can go on for.

“pussy’s so tight,” he groans, enjoying the different position after so long.

at least one of us is having a good time, you think.

you struggle to find your own pleasure in all of your efforts, and it frustrates you further because you know beel’s cock is teasing all the right places. but instead of focusing on the growing pleasure in your belly, you’re distracted by the exhaustion that comes with fucking a man as huge as beel.

fucking such a big, brawny guy exhausts you as much as it turns you on.

even when you switch from bouncing up and down to grinding your pussy back and forth, it’s far too much work to please the big man.

you can’t take it anymore and you still, collapsing onto him with his cock filling you to the brim, and you both to groan loudly.

“i’m sorry, beel,” you gasp for air. “i can’t go on.”

his big, rough, calloused heads capture your face and he brushes your sweaty hair behind your ear. your face glows from the glaze but he realises how tired you are from your flushed cheeks and droopy eyelids.

“we can stop.” he says simply.

“nuh–uh. let’s keep going. but i’m done doing all the work.”

the corners of his lips rise teasingly and he kisses your cheek, muttering sweet praises into your skin.

“so my little cowgirl ain’t all big and bad like she said?”

“no,” you shake your head with pouty lips. “i need you to take over. please? i’m exhausted.”

“all ya had to do was ask, baby,” he swipes his cowboy hat from atop your head and places it in its rightful place atop his. “guess i’ll be taking this back.”

he effortlessly lifts you, holding you close to ensure his cock doesn’t slip from your pussy, and places you onto the mattress. the frame screeches louder as he ruts into you like he always does — with the energy and precision that makes your pussy quiver in seconds.

“fuck, beel!”

his cock runs along your walls and he grabs your legs, tucking his arms behind your knees as he leans down, folding you in half in the process. it’s his favourite position, having you and your pussy completely at his mercy.

with hips completely pressed together, he draws back and slams into your pussy. you scream his name as he continues to ram into you with beastly energy.

“gonna fill ya up, baby,” he thrusts and grunts simultaneously. “gonna stuff ya ‘till ya can’t take any more.”

[ariseur]

omg please could you write about cloud?? Maybe where he’s looking after reader’s younger siblings with her omfgggg that would be so cute

🍓🍓🍓

as cloud looked over the living room, watching as your little sister ran around, his lips pressed into a thin line. “you called me over .. to be a babysitter?”

you scoffed at him, watching as he furrowed a brow with a hand on his hip. “no need for sass,” you explained, “and it’s not just you babysitting! i’m gonna be here, too.”

“still babysitting.”

“i’m gonna punch you.” you scowled.

he looked at you before his eyes darted to a corner, feigning thought before he responded with a curt, “nah.” you rolled your eyes to that before making your way into the living room and plopping down on the couch. grabbing the remote, you turned a random trash tv show on the screen before you noticed cloud still awkwardly standing in the doorway.

“c’mon, sit down—!” you beckoned him over to which he reluctantly walked over, making eye contact with your sister as she hesitantly hid behind the couch. cloud sat down on the couch and kept his posture tense, making sure to sit on the edge of the couch so his buster sword’s length didn’t cause a problem for him as he took a seat.

he looked over at you a few times. he couldn’t help it, he just felt a little weird being in a foreign place and having to be around a kid nonetheless. cloud didn’t hate kids, he just .. wasn’t quite sure how to act around them. on his fourth glance in your direction, he saw your sister with a cupped hand against the side of your face as she whispered in your ear, occasionally looking over at cloud.

“‘s okay, he’s nice.” he heard you mutter. you thought he was nice, he thought. not exactly a proper synonym that could be applied to cloud but— he appreciated your attempts in trying not to scare your sister about him. “sit down with us, yeah?” you pointed at the empty space on the cushion next to cloud as she took small steps towards him. instead of taking a seat, she stopped in front of him as she twiddled her thumbs together.

“what’s that on your back?” she asked, holding up her small index finger as she pointed to the buster sword. you chuckled, cloud never took it off— only when he’d sleep.

he tilted his head a bit. “‘s a sword.”

your little sister’s eyes widened, she looked at cloud as if he had hung the moon. her tone uplifted as she asked, “are you like one of those SOLDIERs?” fidgeting with her hands, she gasped when he put a hand to his chin to think. what could he say to her to have it make sense to her, cloud thought.

“no—“

“he used to be,” you cheerily explained to your sister to which she looked back at him in awe. you explained further, “now he beats bad guys up and helps people down here — right, cloud?” you looked at him expectantly. he looked at you, then looked back at your sister. the kid had her hands clasped as she waited for his answer, it was almost like sparkles emitted from her.

“right.” was all he said — or more so, that was all he could say before he was bombarded with questions. you laughed as she hopped up on the couch next to him, barely paying attention to the volume of the show as it fell deaf on her ears, it was like the only thing she could hear was cloud. even then, cloud only gave her few worded answers. it was definitely enough for her to keep going, though.

her inquiries continued for another hour or so, and eventually her lighthearted interrogation faded into soft snores and drops of drool falling on cloud. you held a hand up to your lips as you giggled, leaning forward more to gauge cloud’s reaction. he tried keeping his eyes straight ahead of him, trying to ignore the sleepy mutters of your sister mumbled against his bicep.

“so,” you whispered, “think you’re cut out for babysitting?”

he looked at you, eyebrows knitted before looking back down at the kid who’s drool was halfway down his arm. he hummed lowly before lifting his head up back to look at you. all he said was, “nah.”

𐙚 taglist ; @alieeelinn

𐙚 requests are closed — june twelfth, 2024

[sarahs-secrets2]

In Your Wildest Dreams Chapter 2 ˋ♡ˊ

introduction & masterlist ❁ ❁ chapter 1❁ ❁ taglist

duke!leon x fem!reader

easier than it looks, is that jealousy i see mr. kennedy?

word count: 2.1k

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

Aunt Agatha's house was bustling with staff running around while suitors began to line up to formally start their courtship. Your mind was elsewhere though as you sat in your room, getting ready for the promenade. It had been decided you and the Duke would meet to show everyone that the two of you were “officially” courting. Little did they know of the ruse established just the night prior. 

“Dear,” your Aunt cracked open the door, letting herself in. The staff who helped you get ready quickly scurried out to give you both privacy. “Might you be gracing us with your presence in the tea room? A group of suitors eagerly awaits your arrival." Your gaze was fixed on the mirror, spritzing a perfume onto your neck. Your eyes meet hers in the reflection, her expression was one of confusion. Aunt Agatha was the last person you could sneak something passed, she was observant to a fault, always taking notice of the smallest details. Hence why she asked, “Where do you presume you are venturing off to?”

Your eyes avoided hers, finding ways to busy your attention by flattening out a ruffle in your dress. “Promenade,” you waited for a reaction, to which you received none. “With Duke Leon of Clyvedon.” Turning around in the chair to face her now you could see evidently she looked pleased. 

"I am most delighted to see you’ve taken such a liking to the Duke. Her Majesty shall be positively elated once she witnesses her matchmaking skills working so well, and so early,”

“Is it possible to dismiss the suitors to tomorrow perhaps?”

“Why of course I’ll attend to them at once. Now go,” she laughed as she helped stand you up from the chair, “I will not have my niece miss out on becoming a Duchess because she is behind schedule.” And with that, you were sent off quickly in a carriage to meet the still ever-mysterious Duke Leon. 

On the other side of town, the infamous Duke rolled out of bed, hastening to get ready quickly. For you see, the Duke was not in his bed hence the late arising. The night prior, after the ball, Leon had found his way and ended up with a “lady of the night”. Plush red bedding surrounded him as he was reminded of the sinful activities that had occurred just hours ago. The girl stirred awake at the sound of the Duke getting dressed, her head peeking up from the covers as she hid her body under the sheets. 

“Where are you going so early?” she beckoned him to come join her back in bed.

“Promenade,” Leon was curt, he knew after today all eyes would be on him until you found your official husband so this was his last opportunity to have a night of fun. The girl seemed confused at the Duke’s answer as he was not known to partake in social events of the season, so whatever reason he was going it must have been of the utmost importance to him. Leon was out of the door and quickly hopped in his carriage, heading straight to the park to see you. 

Now it may seem distasteful of the Duke to partake in such sinful activities, but as an established man who has no intention of marrying, this was all routine for him and many other men of the sort. Just because he had a ruse established with you did not mean he was going to stop on your behalf but just halt his discreet activities until it was all said and done. 

The park was vibrant, with a large portion of society in attendance at the day’s promenade. While waiting for the Duke you found yourself engrossed in a conversation with Lord Redfield. It was innocent, being a gentleman Lord Redfield saw you waiting under the willow tree and approached you. 

“Are you waiting for someone?” the voice caused you to jump a little as you turned around to see who it was. 

“Ah, Lord Redfield,” you smiled as you curtsied. Lord Redfield was cute, well-established, and overall quite perfect. An easy catch though, and he was missing that one thing. He wasn't the Duke, he did not carry the same mystery as the Duke, and he definitely did not excite you like the Duke. Lord Redfield was a safe option. “I am just waiting for the Duke of Clyvedon, have you made his acquaintance?”

“Oh?” he seemed surprised, “Leon, yes I’m aware of his business in London. We’ve crossed paths a few times of course.” You waited for him to elaborate but he did not, information a lady was not privy to of course. The two of you began to walk along the gravel paths, your eyes occasionally scanning the park looking for the tall blonde-headed Duke. Alas, he still had not arrived, you began to worry if he had called off the plan entirely already. 

Leon hopped out of the carriage, straightening his jacket as he made his way to the willow tree to meet you. Pulling out his pocket watch, he huffed out noticing the time and how late he ended up being. All eyes were on him as he quickened his pace to get to the willow tree quicker. If he did not know any better he would say he was excited to see you. Almost as quick as the thoughts penetrated his mind, he pushed them down, drowning them with the reminder that he would not marry. This was all a plan to benefit you both in the end, marriage was not on the table for him.

As he approached the willow tree, he realized you were not there. Had he been that late? Did he miss you entirely? Leon’s eyes surveyed the park trying to spot you, and there you were. Walking alongside another man, not Leon. His heart almost stopped, and a tinge of jealousy began to sink into his veins. Perhaps the Duke was still coming down from his wild activities from the night prior when something overcame him as he stomped his way to you.

“Ah, there you are,” his hand quickly snuck around your waist pulling you closer to him, and further away from Lord Redfield. There was that feeling again, a spark flushing your skin when you felt his touch on your waist. Your stomach churned, your face felt hot, what was this feeling?

“Your Grace, I’m so glad you made it,” you beamed up at him, trying to hide the rush of emotions you still had yet to identify. 

“Please accept my apology for being so late, I had some business affairs on my father’s account I had to finish,” his eyes pleading. As genuine as he sounded it was impossible to read him, and it did not help that he was so entirely intoxicating. You thought he looked handsome at the ball, but today was something else. Unlike the prior night, today his silver-toned blonde hair was pushed back with a stray strand resting on his forehead. He sported a dark jacket, with hints of gold and pale blue throughout. The Duke sure knew how to dress. 

“Of course your Grace, I understand. Thank you for making time to see me today,”

“Affairs,” Lord Redfield scoffed, glazing over you as he stared down Leon.

“Lord Redfield,” the Duke looked unfazed, smiling back at Lord Redfield who was scowling at him. Leon’s hand still was firm on your waist, keeping you close to him. “Thank you for keeping her company in my absence. He is a true gentleman is he not? Always stepping up when you least expect it.” Although Leon’s words were kind, sarcasm was dripping as he eyed down Lord Redfield. Almost as a warning to stay away from you. 

This was where the Duke’s mystery came in, if he did not wish to marry you then why was he being so territorial right now? Why was he scaring away a potential match?

“Well,” Lord Redfield offered you a sympathetic glance, although you weren't sure why. “I’ll take my leave, miss,” he placed a chaste kiss on the back of your gloved hand. “Enjoy your day, I hope I have the chance to make your acquaintance again, sooner rather than later preferably,” he paused before taking a step towards Leon, “Enjoy your affairs, Leon.” And with that Lord Redfield walked away, leaving you and the Duke alone.

“Am I allowed to ask what that was about?” you turned to face Leon, his hand dropping from your waist. Immediately you missed his grasp on you. 

“Which part?” the Duke chuckled slightly, extending his arm for you. Obviously, it was fun for him to ruin your chances with a suitor. You linked your arm around his as the two of you began to promenade around the park. 

“All of it,” glancing up at him, but his eyes were glued straight ahead.

“Let us enjoy this day, not get fussed with the little things,” he looked down at you smiling. You decide not to probe him deeper, he was already assisting you this season better to just keep him happy. 

“Fine, if you insist,” you wrapped your arm around his tighter, “This plan of ours, we will need to come up with some of the guidelines,”

“Such as?”

“Balls, gifts, the customary plans of courtship,” the idea of these things excited you, but your heart really began racing when you pictured the Duke being the one you did it with. 

“I cannot be expected to do all that, can I?” his tone shifted, obviously unaware of the entire extent of the plan he created. 

“You must, it is the only way this arrangement works,”

“If you insist, but I cannot attend every single ball. I have my own business to attend to if you recall.”

“I am well aware your Grace,”

“Just Leon, please I cannot remind you every time,” he teased, stealing a glance down at you as the two of you continued on the paths of the park.

“Of course, Leon,” you let his name glide off your tongue making sure to pronounce every syllable for him.

“Mhm just like that, go on,”

“Please make the effort to attend the balls until I have found a proper suitor.” Leon nodded, unable to find the words or a witty joke. He was a perfect eligible suitor for you, he knew it, and there was that voice in his reminding him again that he was to not marry. This arrangement was simply to help you both out. Keep the swarm of mamas and their daughters at bay for him, while attracting only the best suitors for you. The Duke now faced a new task though, he could not afford to allow these budding feelings for you to flourish. “And I will need you to send flowers, preferably today,”

“Flowers?” 

“Customary to signify you are courting me,”

“I see,” he looked lost in thought as he paused for a moment. He stopped walking and turned to face you, “If I was truly courting you I would not need to follow customs, 10 minutes alone would suffice,” his voice low, and husky as he spoke. The sudden change in his demeanor shocked you as you were unsure how to respond in a ladylike way. 

“Expensive flowers, Leon. Today,” you attempted to brush off his comment but the way your body and mind reacted was an entirely different story. 

“Of course,” his bold tone had left him, perhaps it was still the jealousy from Lord Redfield causing him to act in such a way. “Anything else?”

“Do not tell anyone of this arrangement, I need this to remain a secret between the two of us please Leon, I cannot afford a scandal,” you were pleading at this point, but it was necessary to ensure he understood how important this was. 

“I shall not tell a soul dear,” he nodded, sticking his arm back out for you to take again, continuing the promenade. 

What you two did not notice throughout the time at the park, was the mass amount of eyes on you both throughout the entirety of the promenade. The ton would be swirling with rumors, and stories of who the Duke was courting. Are there promises of a new Duchess on the horizon? 

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

briefly proofread pls lmk if there's a jarring typo

tags: @ir3nic-sluvv @mylifedoesntexist @secretsthathauntus @sageslittlelibrary

[rambleonwaywardson]

Clegan Astronaut AU - Part 4

Masterpost

Author's Note: I promise this fic will get more mission-oriented soon, but the next couple chapters will be very relationship-focused in the lead up to the Artemis 3 launch. I love these two and have a lot of fun writing them, so I hope y'all are okay with that!

--

Nearly everyone loves Gale Cleven. Those who followed the space program before have loved him since he first came on the scene as an astronaut candidate. Those who are only listening in as Artemis ramps up have the chance to fall in love with him now. Tall and handsome, cool and confident yet a little bashful, bright blue eyes, a winning smile, and a southern drawl. And an accomplished Air Force officer to boot.

Even as controversy over his sexuality continues to permeate certain spheres, for much of the world, it’s hard not to love Gale Cleven. Between training sessions, Marge sets him up with interviews and photoshoots, rushing him onto the Artemis scene as fast as he was selected for the mission. He’s tired as all hell, but he puts on a smile and sweet talks the media. 

“It’s an honor, you know?” he’ll say when reporters ask him what being selected to Artemis 4 means. “I really believe we can learn a lot about our world, and about the human species, through Artemis. We’ve been working towards this for years, and I’ll do my best by the American people to make them proud.”

“It’s real exciting, the way people are interested in the moon again,” he’ll say, with a cute little half smile, a wonder in his eyes, a confidence to his voice. “I’ve been in love with it since I was a kid. I get to share that with the whole world now.”

“Oh, we’ve got a great crew. Two great crews, on 3 and 4,” he’ll say when he’s asked about NASA’s preparedness for these missions. “We’ll get it done, don’t you worry.”

And when he sounds so sure, so calm, how can you not believe Gale Cleven? 

It’s been a long time since NASA has been able to capture the interest of the public so fully, but with the Artemis crews, there is a growing echo of the adoration that surrounded the Apollo astronauts so many years ago. These men and women are budding celebrities, whether they like it or not, and Gale Cleven and John Egan are the face of it.

Since the press conference, everyone tiptoes around the sexuality question. The marriage question. John hasn’t talked to the media since. But if anyone asks Gale about John Egan, no one can miss the undying love in his expression, the way his eyes go soft and his smile becomes just that little bit more genuine.

How can you not root for that?

The days following the Artemis 3 press conference and Gale’s appointment to Artemis 4 are busier than ever, filled with training, media, meetings, and more training. As the back-up commander for Artemis 3, Gale has gone through extensive training already in the Artemis mock-ups, including EVAs, flying, docking, and anything else NASA can throw at him. Now, however, he has a new crew to catch up with, including him as the new mission commander, Sandra as the new lunar module pilot, and Richard Macon and Helen as mission specialists.

He jumps right into the deep end – literally – with the crew. Their first few days training together consist of Orion simulations, excursions on mock lunar terrain while bogged down with EVA suits, and conducting mock zero-G EVAs in the neutral buoyancy tank. This includes donning full EVA gear and taking a deep dive into JSC’s 40-foot deep pool, where they can interact with full scale mock-ups of NASA spacecraft in order to simulate working through EVA activities in zero gravity.

While Gale grapples with performing repairs on the fake Orion hull, using tools through a bulky space glove as he floats around in a 6.2 million gallon tank of water, Bucky and Curt work through one of their final sim days for the Starship lunar lander, combatting scenario after scenario of different ways they can fuck up landing on the moon. While Bucky hops around on fake lunar terrain with a massive oxygen tank on his back, fighting the urge to pretend sword-fight with Curt using their sample collection tools, Gale leads his new crew through flight scenarios in the Orion sim. While Bucky artfully avoids any and all reporters by constantly busying himself with mission prep, Gale speaks transparently with the media about his new Artemis role. 

And while Gale turns in for the night after longer-than-ever days, Bucky is still at the space center, pushing himself and his crew to new limits.

–

October 8, 2025

Nassau Bay, TX

With their schedules demanding more of their time, Gale and John have barely had a spare moment together. Gale can hardly remember the last time they actually sat down and ate a meal together. One of them dropping by to see the other at JSC with a cheap cup of coffee doesn’t count. But their wedding is just a few days away, and, at Gale’s insistence, they had agreed to leave work a little early (or, less late than usual) in order to spend a nice evening away from the endless chaos of their exceptionally poor work-life balance.

Gale had finally managed to pull himself away and is now sitting on a stool at the kitchen island. He’s changed out of his work clothes, thankfully swapping the sweaty flight suit for a thin gray sweater and old jeans. He’s fighting the urge to check the time every twenty-three seconds. He is, however, acutely aware of the fact that it’s past 7pm, and Bucky had promised to make it home by 6:30. He sends him a quick text – “Waiting at home. Dinner’s almost ready.” – and decides to grab his laptop and review some mission protocols, answer emails, and anything else he can think of to distract himself. 

By 7:30, he’s tapping his fingers nervously on the countertop. He’s called Bucky twice, both times with no answer. Texts went unheeded. Marge hasn’t heard from him. Gale takes the pasta dish he’d made off the warmer and fills two plates with it, covers them, and puts them in the fridge. He sends another text – “Are you okay?” A couple minutes later, another – “What if I told you that I’m naked?”

Nothing. Even for that. He tries to brush off his growing disappointment and worry.

Bucky hasn’t been the same in the days since the press conference. They’d discussed at length how to proceed in the future -- Bucky didn’t like the idea of screening and pre-selecting every single question beforehand because he knew he’d come under fire for censorship or some shit. Gale agreed, knowing he’ll be facing the same things as Artemis 4 prep ramps up. However, they had decided to warn reporters that probing questions about the astronauts’ personal lives will result in them being removed from the premises at the discretion of the astronauts and the public relations officer. All Bucky has to do is give Marge a certain look and security will escort someone away. 

Otherwise, he’s avoided all discussion about it. Gale can tell, though, that it’s getting to him more than he wants to admit. 

By 7:50, Gale decides to eat without Bucky. He gives Pepper a few pieces of plain pasta to feel less alone. By the time he’s done, he feels officially stood up by his own husband-to-be. He picks up his phone and calls Rosie. “You guys still at JSC?”

“Yeah,” Rosie says. Gale hears a door swing open to the sound of an evening breeze and footsteps on pavement. “Yeah, we uh, we just finished up for the night. We had a hard time with one of the sims. Got it sorted, though.”

“Mmm.” Gale runs a hand through his hair and tries to figure out how he feels about that.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Gale drawls. “John, well, he said he’d meet me at home tonight for dinner. He’s over an hour late.”

He can imagine Rosie furrowing his brow, looking thoughtfully off to the side. “Oh, he didn’t say.” Gale hums again but doesn’t say anything else. Rosie sighs. “He’s been… off. Since the press conference. Like he has something to prove.”

“Right,” Gale says sadly. “Yeah, I know.”

“Will he talk to you about it?” Rosie asks. 

“Hardly.”

“No, me neither.” Both men go silent for a long moment before Rosie says, “I’m sorry Gale. If I’d known I would’ve kicked him out of there faster.”

“Yeah. Thanks Rosie.” Gale clicks the end-call button, and he buries his face in his hands, rubbing hard at his eyes, not sure if he wants to cry and yell or bang something real hard. He does none of it. He just sits alone at the island, feeling like an island himself. 

When Pepper, tail wagging, runs to the front door at the sound of the knob turning, it’s nearing 8:30pm. Bucky walks into the dark house. He follows the faint glow of light through the living room and into the kitchen, where he sees his fiancé sitting alone at the island, clicking away at his laptop and pointedly ignoring him. 

“Buck?”

Silence. 

“Gale?”

Bucky throws his bag down and walks to the other side of the island, sits down on a barstool, and stares at Gale. Gale stares at his laptop. Bucky reaches across and gently pushes the laptop shut. Gale frowns down at it. “When you’re two hours late, you don’t get to decide if I should pay attention to you.”

“You know how it is, Gale.”

Gale nods curtly and tries – fails – to swallow his frustration. “Yeah, John, I know how it is.”

“Great,” Bucky says. He reaches to take Gale’s hand in his, but Gale jerks away. “Why are you so upset then?”

Gale scoffs, still avoiding eye contact. His words are careful and deliberate. “I know how it is better than anyone. But that’s the point, John. We’ve both known how it is for months. That’s why we agreed to make today different. Just today. That’s all I fucking asked for. And you couldn’t even give me that.”

“We had to-“

“I don’t care what you think you had to do.”

“I can’t just-“

“You can do what you want. You always do anyways.” The words are, somewhere deep down, meant to sting. And Gale wishes he hadn’t said them, but some part of him can’t stand how John’s behavior tonight has left him wounded and defenseless and alone. 

“Gale, come on, I know I’m a little late, but I had to-”

“You’re more than a little late.”

Bucky slams a hand down hard and loud on the counter, startling Gale into looking up. He regrets it instantly, the moment he sees the hurt in Gale’s eyes, a sense of betrayal and wariness that Bucky can’t believe he just instigated. “Can you let me speak?” He grits out, forcing a calm into his voice. Gale stays quiet. Bucky sighs and pulls his hand away, curling his fingers tightly in his lap. “I need… I need this to go perfectly.”

“None of it goes perfectly,” Gale bites back. Even though he knows what Bucky meant. 

“I know. But I need to be perfect. I need to show them-“

“You don’t need to show anyone anything. You just need to do your job, like always.”

“The stakes are higher this time and you fucking know it.”

Gale clenches his jaw, trying to parse out the anger from the sadness from the worry. “This is about the homophobia.”

“No,” Bucky says too fast. Gale arches an eyebrow. “Maybe,” Bucky relents. 

“You won’t talk to me about it.”

“It doesn’t need to be talked about.”

“Clearly it does,” Gale exclaims, spreading his arms out wide. “Everyone is worried about you. Rosie, Marge, and Curt all say you haven’t been the same since the press conference. And they’re right. I’m worried about you.”

“Maybe everyone needs to mind their own business,” Bucky spits out bitterly. 

“You’re training too hard.”

“I’m going to the moon.”

Gale is quiet for a long time. Because he knows. God, he knows. He knows better than anyone. Bucky is going to the moon. Just a month after they get married. They don’t even have time for a damn honeymoon. And now Gale has to train for Artemis 4. The long days won’t get shorter, the short nights won’t get longer. Often, they barely see each other when they’re not at work or collapsing into bed. They rarely have time alone. Time to talk. Time to be close to each other. They knew this was how it would be, but that doesn’t make it easier.

“We’re getting married first,” Gale says weakly. “That’s… that’s still important, too.”

Bucky sighs and grips his hair in his hands. He can’t bring himself to look at Gale. He doesn’t even know why he says it: “you knew what you signed up for. Sometimes we have to prioritize.”

The echo of cruel words rings in the brief silence that follows. Gale stands up, looking anywhere but at Bucky. “Well,” he scoffs. “Good to know where I stand on your priority list.”

He walks away towards their bedroom, but stops in the hallway. “Dinner’s in the fridge. I made you a plate,” he mutters, and the gesture is kind but the words hit like a ton of bricks. Pepper follows Gale, trotting loyally at his heels, and Bucky hears their bedroom door click shut. 

-

He walks through the doors of the Hundred Proof because he doesn’t know where else to go. His head is spinning, pounding with an anger that he isn’t sure is towards Gale or towards himself or towards the assholes of the world who think they get to decide what he is and isn’t worth in the public eye. There’s something else under the anger, too, something that he isn’t ready to name, and it simmers beneath the surface like flames fighting for breath against water. 

The bar is always full of familiar faces, but he doesn’t look at a single one. A couple of voices that his brain doesn’t bother putting a name to call out to him, but they let him slip away. He wonders if that’s all it takes to disappear: just act like you don’t hear the words that people throw at you like stones. Except in the real world, they never stop throwing them even if you pretend they don’t hurt. He sits on a stool near the end of the bar and just stares at the astronaut portraits on the wall. Him and Gale. Always him and Gale. 

“Can I get you something honey?” 

Bucky blinks, adjusting his focus to see Jackie in front of him. She knows something is off, he can tell. He’s alone at the bar around dinner time, without Gale or anyone else, just a couple days before his wedding. All of that, and it’s written all over his face. 

“Whiskey,” he says. 

She nods and grabs a glass. When she sets it down in front of him, it’s got ice in it. He looks at her, and she looks back. “On the rocks,” she says. Like it’s a challenge. But she smiles softly at him. “Cause I don’t think you want it as much as you think you do.” 

Bucky thanks her – he isn’t so far out of it that he won’t be polite to a woman who has looked out for him as long as he’s been in Houston – and he takes a sip. He lets the alcohol sit on his tongue, slide down his throat. He lets it burn, and he sips it again. With a gentleness he doesn’t feel in his heart, his fingers brush across the condensation on the glass, and he thinks about how Gale always does that as a nervous habit when he’s been out a little too long and is starting to get tired of the company. 

He takes another sip. It doesn’t burn anymore, and he wishes it would. His throat feels numb like the rest of him, feeling like he’s drifting aimlessly about with no anchor to hold him down. He thinks about Gale. Shakes his head, tries not to think about Gale. 

He thinks about the press, shakes his head. Grips the glass too hard. Gets worried he’ll break it and lightens up. Tries not to think about the press. 

He thinks about the mission, rubs a hand over his face. Tries, for once, not to think about the mission. 

If we’re lucky the fag will die up there. 

He holds his breath to keep it from coming too fast. Where would that leave Gale?

He shakes his head, feels his lungs start to hurt as he keeps them from exchanging carbon dioxide for oxygen. Elevated CO2 levels and suffocation are common concerns in a spacecraft, common obstacles that, if not overcome, could be fatal… He gasps quietly and draws burning air into his lungs. The condensation from the glass leaves little droplets of water dripping from his hot fingertips, rolling down and splashing on the wooden bar top. He sips his whiskey and holds his breath again. 

He’s getting married in a few days. Right before he leaves the fucking planet. He just spat in his fiancé’s face. 

Gale deserves better. 

Bucky really might die up there. Is that better?

He shakes his head, decides, firmly, that that thought process is a little too far even for his brand of melodrama. He forces himself to exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, and rubs his whole hand up and down the cool glass, letting it ground him when he has nothing else to keep his wandering mind on this planet. 

“You okay, John?” Jackie asks. 

What the fuck is he doing here? 

He thinks he nods his head, but he isn’t sure. He might shake it instead. He stares at the pictures on the wall. Blinking tiredly, he looks around the bar. 

What is he doing here?

He looks at his whiskey glass and raises it to his lips, but he doesn’t take another sip. His mouth tastes bitter all of a sudden. He doesn’t want to be here. Why is he here?

He only came here because he didn’t know where else to go: where do you go when you’ve denied yourself access to the only place you want, no, need to be? He doesn’t want to be here at all. 

He can’t be here.

He thanks Jackie in a hurry and tosses some cash on the bar, next to a nearly full glass of whiskey. 

-

Gale has only been sitting in the living room, letting himself feel hurt and lost with a dog comfortingly in his lap and the news on in the background, for less than an hour when he hears the front door fly open. Pepper looks at him, as if she’s asking a question, asking permission. He scratches her behind one ear and tells her to “go get ‘im.” Without another thought she flies off the couch and he hears a faint “hey Pep” from the foyer as he gets to his feet. 

Bucky, assuming Gale would still be in the kitchen or bedroom, comes barreling in so fast that he bumps into him right in the middle of the living room. After a stunned pause, Bucky wraps his arms tight around Gale. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

Gale slowly raises his arms to wrap around Bucky, and he lets his head drop to nestle against Bucky’s neck. 

“Can- can we talk?” Bucky asks quietly. His fist is clutching the fabric of Gale’s sweater, and he still feels sick at the whirlwind of unwelcome feelings in his head. 

Gale nods against Bucky’s neck, holding him just as hard. He still feels dizzy with the relief of his fiancé choosing to come home to him. “I’d like that.”

–

The night of October 10th, 2025, after an evening of low stakes partying with the entire wedding party, Gale is at home with Marge and Pepper while Bucky crashes with Curt. They’d decided to keep with tradition and stay apart for the night. Tomorrow, they’re getting married, and Bucky feels like he could really use a drink. Curt refuses him – for once, he’d agreed not to be the instigator or enabler. It’s his job as best man to get Bucky down the aisle in one piece, and that includes not being drunk or hungover. 

Bucky knows this, and really he’d never disappoint Gale like that, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t use a goddamn drink. 

He can’t stop anxiously tapping his fingers, shaking his leg, biting his lip as they watch some crappy movie on TV. Curt wants to smack him to get him to stop, but getting the groom down the aisle in one piece also means no bruises. 

After entirely too long of this, Bucky suddenly asks, “What if I’m not good enough?”

Curt nearly chokes on his drink as he splutters in disbelief. The day before the wedding, after knowing Gale for over 15 years and being passionately together for much of that, Bucky questioning himself now is absolutely laughable. Buck and Bucky are not the most stable people in this world, but Curt has never in his life seen a relationship as solid and quite literally bomb-proof as theirs. They bridge the gap between admirable devotion and concerning co-dependency quite flawlessly. 

Bucky is furrowing his brow, though, frowning deeply as he clutches the arm of the couch with his right hand and stares at the floor. “What if Gale doesn’t… what if he doesn’t want… me? Anymore.”

“Bucky, what the fuck.” Curt can’t help but actually laugh. Bucky just stares at him with the widest eyes, though, and Curt rubs the bridge of his nose. “I love ya man, but get it together. There hasn’t been a single moment since you two met that Gale hasn’t wanted you.”

“Curt,” Bucky sighs, putting his head in his hands. “I fucked up, man. I… shit, I did and said some things. We’re having a hard time with Artemis you know. I fucked up.”

Curt sets his drink on the coffee table and leans across the couch to put a hand on Bucky’s knee. “Bucky, you both know how this goes. You’ve been through everything together. That man loves ya more than anything in the world, and I don't really get how but he does. So yeah, ya fucked up. But couples fight. You’ll get through it.”

Bucky bites at his lower lip. “What if… what if it gets to be too much? Gale deserves so much better than me. What if I can’t… what if I can’t keep my head straight and…”

Curt tries not to roll his eyes. He is not cut out for this kind of thing. He’s NASA’s least eligible (but he likes to think favorite) bachelor for a reason. “Ok, ya know what, I can’t deal with this.” He pulls out his phone and scrolls through his contacts before pressing call. “Marge, I’ve got a code blue… blue for depressed… Marge, don’t give me that. I’ve got a kicked puppy over here freakin’ the fuck out the night before his wedding cause he thinks he ain’t good enough and Gale’ll quit lovin’ him… yes, I know. I laughed too… I tried… yes I fucking did I don’t need your sass… ok fuck you, I’m putting you on.”

He shoves the phone at Bucky’s face and mouths ‘talk.’

“Hello?” Bucky says into the phone. 

“Honey, what’s going on?” Marge asks. 

“Curt’s the worst best man is what’s going on.” He glares at Curt who sticks out his tongue as he leans back into the cushions on the other end of the couch.  

“Well he called me so he must not be totally useless,” Marge jokes.

Bucky frowns and picks at the fabric of his sweatpants. “I, uh… I guess I’m havin’ cold feet. Is that what they call it?” Marge hums patiently, letting him know he needs to go on. “I just.” He breathes deeply. “I can’t get our fight the other day outta my head, and uh, I still feel shitty about it, you know? And it’s making me nervous about… fuck I don’t know. What if… what if Gale... What if he…”

“Bucky, take a deep breath for me,” Marge says. He follows her instructions. “Now, tell me, do you really think, after all this time and everything you two have been through, you need to be concerned?”

“Yes.”

Curt smacks a palm to his face, and Bucky feels like he can hear Marge doing the same. Curt grabs the phone. “Just put him on,” he demands. Then he hands the phone back to Bucky and there’s rustling on the other end. 

Then, “John?”

Bucky bites his lip as his heart starts beating faster. “Hi.”

“What’s wrong?” Gale asks. Something in Bucky crumbles and reassembles at the same time when he hears the warm cadence of his concerned voice. 

“People keep asking me that.” Bucky sighs. Then it all comes tumbling out. “I’m sorry, really sorry, about the other day. I didn’t mean what I said. I didn’t mean it. I don’t know why I said it. Everything has been crazy. The press is getting to me and this mission is… it’s big Gale. You know that. And with the wedding, all eyes are gonna be on us more than before. And they’re gonna say things. Shit, they’re already sayin’ things. And there’s been threats and… I should be used to it and I am but… it’s hard sometimes. And I was… I don’t know. I don’t know. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about it more. I fucked it, and I was upset and I hurt you and I still feel terrible and… I’m just sorry.”

“I know,” Gale says gently. “We talked through it that night, remember?”

“I know.” Bucky feels dangerously close to crying and he hates it. Gale’s voice is exactly what he needs to hear and it kills him anyways. “I can’t get it all outta my head. The mission, the wedding, the press. And it’s just, it feels like too much. And I’m… They… they want me to die up there. What if I… and then you’re…” He can’t even speak the words. He’s been a pilot for over a decade now, and he’s barely ever given the prospect of death a thought. But the idea of tying himself to Gale only to… well, only to miss out on their future. Only to leave Gale on his own… he can’t even think about it.  

“It’s gonna be alright,” Gale reassures him. “Y��all are the best damn crew in the agency, John. The risks have never stopped me loving you before.”

“God, Gale, I’m fucking scared.” He hates to say it out loud, this feeling that he long ago decided he isn’t allowed to have. But if he doesn’t say it to someone, he feels like he might self-destruct. And if he can’t say it to Gale, he can’t say it to anyone. 

“You don’t need to be, darling,” Gale says. “I’m right here with you.” 

“But what if… what if you change your mind?” Bucky feels so small, and his voice sounds far away to his own ears, infinitesimal, like screaming into a void.

But Gale chuckles softly and Bucky just cannot understand why that question is so funny to everyone. Until Gale starts to speak, his voice measured and gentle and emotional and everything Bucky loves about it. “John Egan, I loved you the moment you barreled into my life, and I have loved you every moment since,” he says. “I have loved you with my entire being, my body, my heart, and my soul for over 15 years. I don’t know how not to love you anymore, and I don’t want to know.”

Bucky feels the forbidden tears prick at the corners of his eyes, but Gale is just getting started. “Because no matter where we go, or what we do, I want you there. We were just kids when we met. Now we’re pilots, Air Force officers, astronauts. We’ve seen and done incredible things that most people can only dream of, and now we’re both going to the moon. But even with all of that, today is the day that makes everything worth it, because you are the person who makes everything in my life worth it.” 

He trails off, and Bucky takes a deep breath, wiping at his eyes, willing himself not to break down right there and then. 

“Are those your vows?” He manages to choke out. 

“Part of ‘em.”

“Aren’t you supposed to save them for tomorrow?”

Gale lets a brief silence linger between them. Then he says, “seemed like you needed to hear them now.” When Bucky is quiet, he adds “I can’t wait to marry you, John.”

“Well now I really have to step up my vows,” Bucky laughs shakily. “Gotta tell my bride everything he deserves to hear.”

Gale ignores the bride comment. “You’ve always been enough for me. You always will be.”

When they hang up, Bucky doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry, so he grins like a maniac at the phone on the table and Curt sighs dramatically in relief.

- -

Part 5

[all-things-john-constantine]

CC Review

Nonspoiler Portion

Cinderella's Castle was so fun! joey was right, the women really did an incredible job. don't get me wrong so did all of the men, but damn the women really knocked it out of the park.

Spoilers Below!

Holy crap!!! Bryce!!! Kim! Angela and Lauren and Mariah! The costumes! Ella's dresses! Bryce’s voice! Her emotion during the conversation with Lucy and Justine. Lauren and Mariah got me to love Lucy and Justine so quick! I knew what was coming when they believed her. The troll puppets! The troll daughter wigs! The trolls! They were so delightfully awful.

The Prince and Tadius are hilarious, great work from James and Curt. Holy crap the Prince is so horny! I actually kind of wanted him and Rancilda to be happy for a second there. Tadius's exasperation got me every time. I can’t believe he killed the King lol. Sir Hop a Lot and Crumb were also hilarious, but even more cute. I loved them too. Jeff as the narrator balanced seriousness, dramatic flair, and levity really well. His little hops into the center of the spotlight and bickering with Ragweed amused me.

Alright! Now for the music and story! Such a fun take on Cinderella, makes it both funnier and darker than the versions you’ve probably heard before. I was shocked when the Troll killed her and took her feet! I stopped knowing where things were going then. I thought we might get an unhappy end, but I’m happy with the one we did get. I liked Crumb getting knighted, and Sir Hop a Lot being titled. I just kind of thought aw man his devotion to her was cute, but I should have expected it considering there were two knights. The music was poppy and bouncy. It’s in line with most StarKid shows, it has what you expect based on the hatchetverse, Trail to Oregon, and Twisted but like amped up and mashed up. I’m not sure what to compare the music too.

[writing-all-over-the-place]

Continuing with the untitled-ness of my story

this one is not connected to the other one other than the characters. there’s now six characters which idk if that’s overwhelming or if it’s fun but i tried to keep it as clear as possible

this doesn’t really have a plot to it. it does in my head but not in the actual writing is how it seems. let me know what you think.

(just to warn you the margins are a little weird bc i copied and pasted from google docs)

continuing off of this post

and tagging some wonderful mutuals

@dysphoria-things @allnaturalgenderfluid @scarafrisbee @emreadsbooks17 @maia-isnt-real @bylerloveswaffles @webboygirl @queers-of-marybelltownship @moiistdirts @giant-clown @weirdandabsurd42 @veescorneroftheworld

if you no longer want to be tagged lemme know i will not be offended don’t feel bad at all.

Arden POV

Ding dong. I open the door and Sammy rushes past me. “Gotta pee, gotta pee, gotta pee!” He yells as he’s running past me.

“God! Sammy! Have a little self respect!” Gigi yells, running from the bathroom, mascara in hand.

I walk down the hall to them. “I’m with Gigi on this, Sam. Love you, though.”

“Oh, shut up.” He says, coming out of the bathroom. “Did Roar make snacks?”

“Working on it!” They call from the kitchen.

“Is Ellie in the bedroom?” Sam asks me.

“Yep. Seems to find getting her nails done very exhausting.” I respond.

“Oh yeah! You guys did that. Lemme see!” He grabs my hand, “Awww they’re so cute! It’s all green, with those little brown stars. And dots! They’re so little and cute!”

“Okay, that’s enough.” I pull my hand away. “Did you bring your clothes?”

“Yup!” He shows me his canvas bag with green material sprawling out of it. “Good color, right? And it’s got these little daisies.”

“Shoes?”

“Yep,” He holds up his foot to show me his dirty converse. I shake my head.

“Art, do you guys have extra bobby pins?” Gigi calls.

“In the bottom drawer, in that little container,” Rory responds for me.

Ding dong.

“Curt’s here!” Rory yells. I open the door.

“Hi Art, Hi Sam. I didn’t uh, bring clothes because I couldn’t figure out to wear. I can always go back down and get stuff, I just couldn’t decide. I honestly wear too much casual clothing.”

“Just don’t ask Oreo for help.” Elle tells him, emerging from the bedroom in her gorgeous green dress and bedhead hair.

“Nice look.” Curt tells her.

“Thanks,” she grins.

“Your hair needs help, babe,” Gigi grabs her wrist and drags her to the bathroom.

“Ugh, you’re so controlling.”

“You know you love me.” I hear Gigi say as she shuts the bathroom door.

“Omelettes!” Rory yells from the kitchen. I hop in a seat next to Curt, who’s next to Sammy.

“Thanks, bestie,” I say as she hands me a plate.

[clowncalvary]

Reviewing Every Animal Crossing New Horizons Villager (Because I Have Fallen Down The Rabbit Hole) Part 4

Chrissy: I am endeared to her face because it looks like she is wearing a mask! Kind of gives me The Stranger energy from TMA. 700 Bells.

Claude: They have done this rabbit dirty. He also looks like he is hiding a few women in his basement. 10 Bells.

Claudia: I need this kind of tiger energy in my life. This is like if a family friendly animated studio was designing a girl tiger versus a boy tiger. 320 Bells.

Clay: I thought at first he looked like a luchador, but then I zoomed in and went "Ah! He's possessed!" 53 Bells.

Cleo: I like her colors and her eyes, but these are her only redeeming traits. 60 Bells, but for you I let her go for 50.

Clyde: Ope, just ugly all the way down, huh? 0 Bells.

Coach: This dude looks like he fell off the ugly tree and hit every branch and the way down. 0 Bells. - I was asked to retract this statement, but I refuse.

Cobb: He is a green pig, but he could be worse. I might be biased because I was told he was a mad scientist and I do love a good feral little man. 200 Bells.

Coco: HONEY YOU ARE MY- ANGGGGGGGGGGEL!!!!!!!! I have loved her since the moment I saw her! Possessed in the best way possible! I will NOT rest until I get her on my island!! SHE IS PRICELESS IN MY HEART!!!! 500,000 Bells. I Will Pay More For Her.

Cole: Wait, wait, they are so cute. They look like they have no clue about anything that is going on. Damn, most of the rabbit villagers are just going to be this charming, huh? I don't think I have enough room on my island for them all :( 2222 Bells.

Colton: All good things must come to an end and seeing this horse truly is the end of a good streak of villagers. He does kind of look like he belongs on Fred Jones' island though if he played Animal Crossing. 30 Bells.

Cookie: Stop looking at me with those big old eyes. The patterning would be cute without the eyes, but not enough to redeem this dog. 60 Bells.

Cousteau: I was going to say he was irredeemable, but then I realized that he kind of reminds me of the frogs from Kipo. 80 Bells.

Cranston: More like Crankston. Gross little man. Gonna put this man's head back into the sand. 0 Bells.

Croque: Go back to the opera where they can't see your face. 0 Bells.

Cube: I keep thinking of those weird ass small penguin animations that I've seen all over tumblr. Do with that as you may. 42 Bells.

Curlos: Ah, this dude belongs on Mabel's island and she would cherish him so much. Personally though, I'm going to have to pass on this man. 10 Bells. (Good luck getting him though, Mabel won't give him up).

Curly: ....This is just motherfuckin' Peppa, ain't it? You ain't as charmin' as you seem to think, Peppa! 20 Bells.

Curt: This is a bear that looks like he either needs to be a wrestler or in a biker club. I can see this dude riding a motorcycle. 20 Bells.

Cyd: Look. I wanted to like him. I wanted to like him so much because I love the colors and his mischievious look. I just can't get past him looking like shit. 0 Bells.

Cyrano: Why does he look like he's a villain from One-Punch Man? I hope he gets flattened soon. 36 Bells.

Daisy: Now that is one cutie patootie of a dog. I really hope I encounter them when I am island hopping just so I can say I met them! Put them in my little island scrapbook. 700 Bells.

Deena: *squints* A duck? Why do they look like a yokai? Either way my lack of trust in them is pretty high! 0 Bells.

Deidre: What secrets are you hiding behind that smile? Where did you hide those bodies? Why is there a strangely shaped red stain on your carpet? 60 Bells.

Del: Mechanical Alligator vibes right here. I am just not digging them. I kind of wish that he was more ugly because then at least he would stick out? 50 Bells.

Deli: JUST IMAGINE ME HISSING AT THE SCREEN SEVERAL TIMES LIKE A REALLY DISGRUNTLED KITTEN. THAT IS HOW I FEEL EVERY TIME I SEE ONE OF THESE UGLY ASS MONKEYS! -500 BELLS.

Derwin: The kids in highschool definately called him "Derpwin" and they were right. 25 Bells.

Diana: Now this is a lovely villager! A good use of the deer design too! I wonder if one of my friends already has her? 620 Bells.

Diva: Horrifying. Ugly. Disgusting. There is a circle of hell just reserved for this Frog. -1000 Bells.

Dizzy: *sigh* Okay, this is literally identical to a different elephant villager that I saw earlier. I feel like I need to barely dignify this guy with a review. 0.50 Bells because he is a rip off.

[house-of-slayterr]

Blink Twice if You Need Help:

@myers-meadow-selfship

Otis’s POV:

I woke up today already in a shit mood. There was so much to get done and not nearly enough time to do it all. And of course, Baby was no help. She had Mama wrapped around her little finger and never had to lift said fingers to help. I grumbled under my breath as I greeted them in the kitchen.

“Somebodies grumpy” she commented.

I glared at her, taking the cap off the milk and taking a sip. She scrunched her nose.

“You know other people use that.” Mama commented.

“I bought the damn milk Mama, I’m gonna drink it!” I snapped.

She raised a brow at me, rolling up the frilly sleeve of her frufru dress robe. It looked so out of place in our run down piece of shit house. But that’s just how she was, extravagant beyond our means. And who was I to crush mothers happiness. I sighed.

“You look nice today Mama.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere boy, use a glass next time.”

“Yes Ma.”

“Good. Spaulding needs some help down at the store today, Baby and I will handle the house.”

I gave her a curt nod, pulling a glass from the cabinet and pouring the milk. I grabbed a banana from the counter and made my way out of the kitchen. I new better than to think they’d actually get anything done here. I could clean up later. I used my keys to unlock the back door of the store and make my way inside.

“Well look what the cat dragged in.” Spaulding commented. “You look worse than roadkill Otis.”

I growled.

“Says the clown.” I spat back.

He just grinned that stupid grin he always had.

“The house is a nightmare.” I explained.

“Baby getting into her arts and crafts projects again?” He asked.

“If by arts and crafts you mean leaving half ass projects on every surface in the house, then yes.”

He cackled.

“I swear that girl needs something to channel her energy, she’s like an over active chihuahua.”

I chuckled.

“Damn ankle biters. You think we’ll get any guest today?”

He shrugged. Absentmindedly adjusting things in our little gas station, gift shop combo. It was a studious business venture really, but the little trinkets made Mama happy, so we sold em anyway.

“I hope so, this town is dryer then your moms vagina.”

I rolled my eyes. He talked a lot of shit for a man that slept in her bed every night.

“Yet you stay.” I commented.

“That I do Boy, that I do…”

The first few hours of the day were entirely uneventful. Ain’t shit ever happen in this desolate town. But as luck would happen, some van finally pulled into the gas station.

“Look alive boy, we got us some tourist.” He smirked.

I watched as he walked outside, greeting the driver. In our state it’s illegal for customers to pump their own gas. Dumb as shit law of you ask me. But I guess it makes sense, these shit for brains hippies couldn’t work their way through a corn maze with a map. Probably didn’t even know how to use the damn pump. I laughed to myself.

The guy looked pretty average, some sort of jock type. Wearing tight shirts to show off his muscles, and I couldn’t decide if it was a scare tactic, or a way to get the ladies. Either way I wasn’t impressed. Next hopped out a cute little thing, her blond hair in a messy ponytail and her shorts entirely too short. I watched as she ran her hands along his bicep as he spoke with Spaulding. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, and honestly I didn’t much care. It wouldn’t matter by the end of the day, they wouldn’t be getting back in that van anyways.

I pretended to busy myself with random things, until I heard the bell from the front door chime. Seems Spaulding sent them in for some snacks. There was a shorter boy who looked like a damned greaser from one of those 50’s movies Baby liked to watch. He had enough gel in his hair to drown a baby in. He had his arm wrapped around a brunette, who unlike her other friend, had barely any skin showing. Damn city kids.

And lastly there was some kid with them. Their appearance struck me as odd right away. There hair was wild and unruly, almost as if it had never been brushed. I could see the knots from here. Their clothes were I’ll fitted too, shirt devouring their entire form, and shoes so warn you could see their socks through the little holes. I frowned, but quickly rid myself of the emotion.

I kept quiet behind the desk as they looked around, not really wanting to offer my “help”. Baby was much better at pretending to be friendly. I looked up when something was slammed on the counter in front of me. A six pack of beer and some chips. I looked down at it before meeting his eyes.

“Anything else?” I gritted in disgust.

“Gotta any good smokes?” He asked.

“Yeah… we stock Marlboro or Maverick.”

“I’ll take a pack of the Marlboros.”

I reached under the counter and slapped them down with the same force he had.

“That’ll be $18.50.” I dead panned.

His focus was drawn away from me as his girlfriend placed an ice tea on the counter.

“And the lady’s drink.” He said.

“$20 even.”

He reached into his wallet, and I looked past him through the window to see how things were going with Spaulding.

“We’re you folks headed?” I attempted to make casual conversation.

It was the girl who answered.

“It’s spring break, we’re headed further south to the beaches.” She explained.

I hummed, not really interested.

“It’s getting quite late, you don’t want to be caught on the roads out here this late. Some sketchy people hanging around.” I freihned a warning.

“Suppose we could rest for the night, what do you think babe? I think Mikey’s getting tired of driving anyway, we’ve been cramped in that stupid van all day.”

The man shrugged.

“Any motels near by?” She asked.

“Just down the road. Cheap rate too.”

“Perfect.” She smiled at me. “Thanks for your help.”

At least she was polite. Couldn’t say the same about her boyfriend. I lazily hummed again. He was about to hand me the $20 but was untrusted once more, this time by the kid. They were gripping tightly to a pack of gummy worms.

“That’ll make it $21.50” I sighed, annoyed that I had to talk to them for longer than I wanted to.

He proceeded to hand me just the $20 and I looked confused. Maybe he didn’t hear me.

“I’m not buying you some damn gummy worms, you got your own money.” He snapped at the kid.

They flinched slightly, shuffling awkwardly on their feet but nodded. I finished out the transaction. He forcefully grabbed the beer off the counter and shoved passed them. His girlfriend more delicately her tea and followed after him. I was surprised she didn’t even seem off-put by his outburst, her bubbly personality not faltering for a second.

“City folk.” I grumbled under my breath.

The kid just kinda stood there for second. Their grip tightened on the plastic and I could hear it crinkle in protest. Their small shoulders were shaking slightly. The wordlessly reached into their pocket and pulled out a few coins. They looked between the bag and their money and sighed, going to put them back. They seemed to notice my staring as they mumbled out a soft,

“Don’t have enough.”

I don’t know why I took pity on them, they looked like a damned drowned rat who just got kicked by their owner. I held out my hand and they looked confused.

“Take the candy.” I said.

They looked shocked, honestly I was a little shocked myself.

“But I don’t have the money to pay you-“

I didn’t budge and they awkwardly shuffled over and dropped the money in my hand.

“It’s only 85 cents, but I guess we’re staying, I think there’s a few coins in the dash if you let me go get them.” They offered.

It was honestly sad.

“Would ya look at that, says her the gummy worms only cost 85 cents now. Guess it’s your lucky day kid.”

That was a fucking lie and I knew it. Probably kill them first so they won’t have to witness the carnage. Poor thing looked miserable.

“Why are you being nice to me?” They asked.

“Guess I’m in a charitable mood today.”

I don’t know why they wouldn’t just take the damn things and go. I watched as they fiddle with their necklace before taking it off and putting it on the counter. I starred down at it.

“It’s not worth much, you could probably get like $5 for it. I don’t want to short you, that’s not right. Thank you for your kindness mister.” They said.

Before I could protest they were already running back outside as the boy from earlier yelled out there name from the door.

“Stop bothering the man and get your ass in the van!” He demanded.

I watched as they drove off, not even giving the kid enough time to sit and close the door first. Spaulding came back in.

“Sent em to the motel.” I explained.

He laughed.

“Stole their tired cap when they weren’t looking, they ain’t getting far anyways.” He said smuggly.

I just shrugged it response.

“What’s got your panties in a twist boy, you’re usually happy about this shit.”

“Nothing, I’m fine.” I lied.

I should be fine, so then, why wasn’t I? I’d killed kids before, younger than them even. So what the fuck was my problem.

“You got your thinking Face on Otis, you know you’re a shit liar right?”

I groaned.

“You should have seen the way they were treating that kid, Spaulding. Something don’t feel right about that.”

“What, gonna give em a lecture while you’re ripping out their spleens?” He joked.

“Oh I’m gonna do a lot more than that, dumb fuck was a prick, treating me like gutter trash. Baby’s gonna have her fun with them, specially that sports boy.”

“Your sister does have a type.” He mused.

After a few minutes of working in silence, he spoke up again.

“Look if it’s really bothering you all that much, why don’t you go talk to your mama?” He sighed.

I shook my head. “We should just put the poor thing out of its misery. They damn near cried cause I gave them some gummy worms. I don’t think they’re feeding that thing.”

Of course he noticed my attempt to dehumanise them. Not like I needed to. Humans were disgusting by nature. Watching them beg for their worthless lives was always funny. People did desperate shit when they felt out of control.

“Whatever you say.”

“Imma go warn Mama about our new guests.” I grumbled.

Baby was the first to greet me back at the house. She was practically jumping up and down.

“Is it true? We got new friends to play with?” She asked.

I cracked a smile.

“Yeah, nasty little shits too. You wanna show em some southern hospitality?”

Mama came from around the corner, sipping some wine still in her robe. As expected, nothing got done while I was at the gas station.

“Been pretty quiet around here. Baby why don’t you head on down to the motel and offer them a home cook meal? Nothing open at this hour.”

She adjusted her top, showing off more cleavage and I cringed. I mean hey, it worked to lure in those dumb fucks, but she was still my sister. Can’t blame me for hating it. The men who ogled her were disgusting low lives. I rolled my eyes at her.

“You seem down, what’s wrong child?” Mama asked.

“I’m not a fan of our new guests.”

“You never are.” She laughed, “want to help your mama in the kitchen?” She offered.

And of course I could never say no to her. We slipped a special ingredient in the stew. They’d be out like a light before they new it, idiots wouldn’t even know what hit them. I wasn’t shocked when Baby came back half an hour later with the tourists trailing her. They never could resist her charms, if there’s one thing about Baby, she’s persistent. She could actually get shit done when she put her mind to it. Even if she did get a little distracted sometimes.

“Your home is… lovely.” The nicer girl from earlier complimented.

“Thank you sugar, where you folks from?” Mama attempted conversion.

“Way up in Michigan.” The jock spoke.

His voice wasn’t nearly as grating as his I’ll mannered friends.

“Couch told me they had good beaches down south, figured we’d have one final hurrah before collage.” He explained.

“Bet you’re pretty good at surfing” Baby attempted to flirt, and I had to hold back a chuckle when the blonde girl glared at her.

“Actually I’m awful at it, foot ball players aren’t really known for our good balance. One to many concussions I guess.”

Baby giggled at his joke.

“Sorry there ain’t much to do in this town, round her thinks close down at about five. But don’t worry, Mama makes the best food this side of Texas.”

“Great, I’m starving.” The greaser said.

The kid from earlier stayed behind them, not really joining in on the conversation. Spaulding was probably breaking into their motel room as we spoke, stealing their fancy shit so we could pawn it off. Not like a corpse would be needing it anyway. We all sat down for dinner, but the kid stayed near the door.

“We’ll come on in and sit sugar cube, we don’t bite.” Mama said.

It was odd how they waited for permission, the context was already there. They sat down next to Baby who smiled wildly at them. Obviously we didn’t put the sedative in our bowls, but I was hesitant when Mama placed the stew in front of them.

“This is amazing! You made this yourself?” The bubbly girl asked.

“My Son helped, he’s good to his Mama.” Mom praised.

The thing about Mama is she loved to brag about us. And I couldn’t lie it made me feel proud. Not that I wanted to look good to these worthless shits anyways, but the recognition of my hard work was still nice.

“My Nan used to make stuff like this all the time, she’s from down in New Orleans. She used to tell me food was the way to a man’s heart. Guess she was right.” She smiled at her boyfriend, looking at him expectedly.

“Your cookings decent.” He said flatly.

What kind of dick couldn’t even be nice to his own damn girl? Baby could have the jock, but he was all mine. She frowned for a moment, but shook it off.

“Maybe I could bother you for a recipe.” She hummed.

“Sure thing sugar.”

I was more than glad when the medicine started taking effect and the conversions slowed down. The jock was the first to fall, his face slamming into the stew. The blondes eyes widened as she starred at her boyfriend in horror. Everyone’s eyes were on him.

“What the fuck did you do?” The greaser spat.

Mama didn’t take to kindly to his tone, and frankly, neither did I. He and his girlfriend attempted to get up from the table, but I placed my hand firmly on his shoulder and shoved him back down.

“You sit your ass down.” I growled.

His girlfriend was the next to pass out, almost falling out of her chair. The blonde was in total panic mode, just saying “what the fuck?!” On repeat. Baby clamped a napkin over her mouth, cutting off her oxygen until she passed out.

“Get your hands off me!” He glared. “What the fuck is wrong with you people?”

You people… I hated when people called us that.

“Your mama ain’t teach you now respect boy.” I commented.

I looked across the table to see the kid still struggling to stay awake. They made eye contact with me, and for a moment I felt my heart stop. They didn’t look scared, or nervous, or even upset like I expected. They had a look of acceptance in their eyes, like they were ready to die. It made me sick.

“This is your fault you little shit!” He growled at them.

Their eyes widened slightly. How could he possibly blame this on them? They had nothing to do with this.

“You probably pissed off this freak back at the gas station. You can’t do anything right!”

They were shaking now. And I had enough. I hit him over the back of his head with my beer, knocking him out cold. I guess Baby and I were on the same Page, cause she quickly turned her attention to them. She placed a gentle hand on their shoulder.

“It’s ok pretty thing, you can stop fightin’ your medicine.” She cooed.

She brushed a lock of mangled hair out of their eyes. They looked up at her.

“But I don’t want to go to bed.”

Their words were slow as the sedative took hold of their brain.

“I’m not tired.” They lied.

“Oh, aren’t you just the most precious thing.” Mama said.

They leaned into Baby’s touch, their head collapsing into her hands as their eyes finally closed. I let out a loud sigh.

“So that’s what’s been botherin’ ya.” Mama said.

“What?” I asked confused.

“I can see it in your eyes Otis. You’re not happy about killing this one.”

I hated that I couldn’t hide from her. But I’d never lie to my Mama, that shit just ain’t right.

“This piece of shit has been treating them like that all day.” I growled, shoving the man off the chair and watching as his body crumpled in a heap on the floor. “Wouldn’t even buy them some damn Candy.”

Mama frowned.

“Is that so?”

I nodded. Mama stood up from her chair, making her way to Baby’s side of the table.

“Give em here.” She said.

Mama knelt down beside their chair, leaning them back on it so they wouldn’t loose balance and fall. I knew what she was doing, inspecting them.

“They’re hairs more matted then a rats nest.” She sighed. “Suppose we could fatten them up a bit too. Poor things frailer than a porcelain doll.”

“They ain’t scared of us.” I stated.

“Seems they aren’t, guess we’re no scarier than that low life.”

“Can we keep em Mama? Can we?!?” Baby asked excitedly.

“It’s another mouth to feed. We’ll have to ask your father.”

“I don’t think he’ll have a problem with it.” I chimed in.

“Otis, be a dear and take them up to Baby’s room. They’re gonna need the rest. I don’t care what you do with the others, just get that ‘thing’” she glared at the man on the floor “out of my Damn house.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Baby looked giddy, well more than usual I guess. Suppose it would be nice to have someone to keep her company so she didn’t bother me so Damn much. Always with her constant questions. I made my way around the table and gave Mama a kiss on the cheek. I turned to Baby.

“You can have the rest, but he’s mine.” I said.

She smiled up at me.

“Oh I can’t wait to see what you do with him Otis! Gonna make him beg for his Mama?” She asked.

“Think I’ve heard enough from him, not like he’ll be needing his tongue when I’m done with him.”

She grinned, that familiar glint of insanity in her eyes.

“Just don’t kill him until I’m done ok, I wanna watch him suffer.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Ahh, nothing like a little torture to bring the family together.” Mama smiled happily. “Just clean up after yourselves ok Kids? And stay off the new rug, Spaulding won’t be happy if we have to replace it again.”

That warning was mostly aimed at Baby. She was Certainly messy with her toys. I turned back to the kid, they didn’t even have a name, and yet here I was feeling protective over them already. Damn thing should be grateful, we don’t take pity on many folk around here. I scooped them up into my arms and was surprised at how light they were. Mama’s assessment was right, they were tiny. Weighed nearly half as much as someone their age should.

I carried them upstairs to Baby’s room and set them down on the bed. I draped a blanket over them before sitting at the edge of the bed.

“Don’t worry kid, they ain’t gonna hurt you no more. No one’s gonna treat you like that again.”

I knew they couldn’t hear me, but it was the sentiment that counts. I heaved myself off the bed and locked the door as I left. Couldn’t risk them waking up and trying to run before I was done with me ‘chores’ for the day. Maybe I’d finally have someone who will help out around the house.

An: Kid is more so used as a term of endearment here. Blinky is about 17 when they first met everyone, Doe eyes comes along about a year later.

[condorclaw]

...so we could all use a little fluff after yesterday, right?

TW: description of a panic attack with referenced abuse. The scene is in bold if you want to skip over it, and is a small part of the story

-

Michael didn’t understand much about the world, especially since Snowchester was all he could remember.

What he did know was that there were both kind people, and people who were not so nice.

Michael’s dads knew what was best, he had realized. Many times Michael had been approached by strangers in his own room, with dadboo swooping in to clutch him to his chest protectively. Michael didn’t know what was so bad about some of these strangers, but in his dad’s arms, he felt protected, so he figured dadboo knew something he didn’t.

Dadboo wasn’t the only one in Michael’s life who he felt fully safe around. There was his other parent, dadbee. Dadbee wasn’t as tall or as strange as dadboo was, but dadbee would stand with dadboo, a weapon clutched in his hand whenever a stranger would invade the house. If Michael listened to Technoblade’s metaphors in the possible future, he’d look back on this time and compare his fathers to a sword and shield.

There was another important guardian in Michael’s life too: his uncle Tommy.

Tommy had hair that reminded the kid of gold, fangs that were as sharp as piglin tusks, and always some kind of mischievous glint in his eye. When Michael’s dads were away, Tommy came to watch over him, something Michael had grown to look forward to.

Ever since the two met, they had a strong connection, something that was cemented with Tommy knowing Michael’s native language, being able to communicate with him better. Tommy was also teaching it to his fathers too, dadbee getting good enough to ask Michael what he wanted for dinner, and being able to understand Michael’s answers, while dadboo was the best at giving one-word instructions.

His family was so cool, and Michael would tell Foolish Jr. about them whenever the little totem came over for a playdate. Just like Michael, Foolish Jr. had an uncle as well, but unlike Michael, Foolish Jr. had never seen his own, hearing that he had been taken somewhere secret. Michael felt sorry for his best friend, while also being happy that he had such an awesome uncle himself.

Tommy was even missing an eye like him! Michael didn’t know how he lost it, and whenever the piglin asked, Tommy would just mumble something in response about “green”, and saying that Michael could hear about it when he was older. Michael didn’t mind, it just made him feel closer to the blonde.

The world was confusing, and things didn’t make that much sense yet, but Michael knew that he always had dadboo, dadbee, and uncle Tommy by his side to protect him.

-

“You two have fun, okay?”

Michael watched as Tubbo tried forcing a large metallic object into his bag, even beginning to stomp down on it before Ranboo ran in frantically.

“Tubbo, we just need to check on the borders of Snowchester, we don’t need-”

“Nukes can come in handy, Ranboo!”

“HOW!?”

Tommy rolled his eye in mock exaggeration, glancing down at Michael, who turned his head to stare back. “Your dads are never getting out of here, guess I can’t babysit tonight.”

Michael stomped his hoof in frustration, letting out a loud snort of annoyance, which caught both of his dads’ attention.

“Tommy, what did you tell him?” Ranboo’s eyebrow raised in suspicion as his eyes gazed down at the huffy piglin.

“That the two of you are slower than the Eggpire’s “ultimate takeover”.” The pout on Tubbo’s face was enough to make Tommy burst into his signature laughter, the couple eventually joining in on enjoying the joke. Michael didn’t understand what was happening, but began to giggle in little snorts, not wanting to be left out.

“Okay, okay. I think we are taking a while,” Ranboo muttered, tilting his head to look down at Tubbo accusingly. The ram hybrid stared back, sticking out his tongue in mock aggression.

“Don’t you want to be safe? We could run into a pack of wolves and have to defend ourselves.”

“Tubbo, I think the nuke killing us is more likely to happen than being killed by mobs-”

Michael let out another frustrated cry, beginning to hop in place and slam his hooves down on the floorboards. Ranboo and Tubbo both looked at him, ears folding back sheepishly.

“Sorry,” Tubbo mumbled in piglin, rubbing the back of his neck. Ranboo nodded along with that, bending down to rub Michael’s head affectionately. “Okay, we get it. We’re going now. Have a good time, Michael.” Ranboo gently booped Michael’s snout with his own, standing up once the piglin squealed happily,

“Ranboooo, we have to make a stop at the warehouse,” Tubbo tugged on his husband’s jacket once the enderman stood.

“Tubbo, we’ll waste time-”

“Do you want the nuke to be left here with our son then?”

“...okay, w-”

“GOODBYE ALREADY!” Tommy let out a battle cry, shoving the two parents through the door and locking it behind them. Michael chirped happily, clapping his hooves at the amusing sight. Even inside, they could still hear Ranboo and Tubbo talking faintly. Uncle and nephew listened closely, waiting until the voices could no longer be heard.

“Okay, those two are gone now. We now have the whole night to ourselves.” Tommy turned, giving Michael a fanged grin. The piglin began jumping on the spot excitedly, flapping his stubby arms.

-

Tommy had been surprisingly good at managing Michael, even understanding how to keep him happy while making sure he was safe. The lack of a language barrier made everything a lot easier too, but even Tubbo and Ranboo were surprised at how well Tommy knew how to do a lot of household tasks that parents normally took over. The two of them had once come home to a spotless house, Tommy telling them that he needed to kill energy through cleaning after putting Michael to bed.

Currently, Tommy was preparing a bowl of steamed carrots for Michael, keeping an eye on the piglin playing on the floor while also focusing on the pot boiling. Michael’s favourite food was potatoes, but his parents had told him that Tommy didn’t really like those much, so he had to have something else. Michael’s next favourite was carrots, which was something Tommy did like too, and he always made them the way Michael liked.

On the floor, Michael was playing with his stuffed bee. It was a gift from his dadbee that Michael loved squeezing into, and it was even the size of the piglin himself. It was rather silly to see him clutching onto a giant bee, but it was also a very cute sight.

Michael pretended to attack the large plush, leaping into it at full speeds and rolling across the floor like he always did. Tommy chuckled at the sight, removing the pot from the stove and turning it off. “Be careful, little man. Tubbo’ll kill me if something happens to you.” He muttered light-heartedly.

Michael oinked in understanding, rolling his bee across the floor once more. Upon doing so however, a thread caught onto the edge of one of the floorboards, unravelling the bee slightly and exposing the stuffing. Michael stared at the plush toy quietly, his eye wide as tears started to spill from it.

Setting aside the carrots for draining, Tommy quickly turned around upon hearing a panicked squeal. He spotted Michael clutching the ripped bee close to his chest, sad little oinks escaping from him. Tommy slowly made his way over to his nephew, crouching down to see him better.

“Did Mr. Bee get hurt?” Michael nodded, oinking out what happened to his favourite toy. Tommy turned, glaring at the floor with a huff.

“How dare you fuckin’ hurt him. Mr. Bee never did anything to you, stupid pieces of wood.”

Michael giggled a little, tears still falling from his eyes. Tommy turned back to the piglin after “getting angry” at the floor, an understanding smile appearing on his face. “Michael, do you know where Tubbo keeps the rainbow string with the tiny stabby sticks?”

The piglin gave a curt nod, pointing to one of the chests along the walls. Tommy stood up, stretching his body before leaning down and gently picking up Michael. Michael was placed in his high chair, with Tommy bringing over the bowl of drained carrots. “You eat these, okay? I’ll have the coolest surprise for you when you’re done.”

Michael’s eye widened again and he quickly began to gulp down his food, Mr. Bee forgotten for now. Tommy let out a panicked laugh, quickly taking the bowl from Michael and stared at his nephew eye-to-eye. “You only get the surprise if you eat slowly, okay? It’s not safe to eat that fast.”

Michael frowned, folding his arms and muttering something.

“Woah, and where did YOU hear that word from?”

Another snort.

“...okay, I’ll admit that I did say that.”

Michael’s lip curled in in satisfaction as he stuck his tongue out at his uncle, Tommy placing his hand to his chest and gasping dramatically. “Wow, you’re so fuckin’ rude. I can’t believe you’d do this to your own flesh and blood.”

Michael pointed to the right side of his head.

“...flesh and bone. Stop being so sassy tonight.”

Another stuck-out tongue.

-

As Michael began to eat, Tommy looked through the chest his nephew had been pointing to, finding the needles and threat he had been looking for. The blonde gave a fist pump in quiet celebration, heading back to where Michael had left the stuffed bee behind. He sat down and picked up the plush, surprised at how light it was. With his materials there, Tommy began to sew up the toy.

Wilbur had taught him how to sew during the Pogtopia days, when Tommy's clothes kept getting torn due to running from the Manberg guards. Wilbur eventually became far too busy to teach Tommy more, which was when Niki stepped in to continue teaching Tommy, and started teaching Tubbo as well.

Tommy didn't have the best childhood. Actually, that was an understatement. Tommy had one of the worst childhoods possible, with the constant threat of war and death looming over his head as he charged into battle with his family and friends. It was the worst experience Tommy could have ever gotten, and even though the wars were over, there were still the rising threats of new ones. Ones that he'd probably be forced to participate in.

But for now, everything was okay, and that's all Tommy wanted.

Michael was a bright young lad, appearing to adopt similar mannerisms to Tommy's own. While he'd never say it to anybody, Tommy was incredibly fond of his nephew. Michael had a loving family, and a wonderful home to live in. He didn't have to care about wars, or being exiled, or being imprisoned, or-

Tommy felt his heart rate drop for a moment, accidently pricking himself with the needle he was sewing with. "Shit," he muttered, quickly shaking his hand to alleviate the sting.

Michael looked over at him, hearing the curse. His ears were perked up and he oinked inquisitively. Tommy responded with a thumbs-up, letting out a fake laugh. Michael copied his actions, giving a similar thumbs-up motion with his hooves.

As Michael continued to eat, Tommy continued to sew, his mind suddenly a lot more crowded than before.

-

Michael slurped up the last of his meal, licking his lips happily. Carrots were always filling, especially when Tommy made them.

The piglin began to let out chirrs, gazing in Tommy's direction as he wiggled in his seat. Tommy looked up from what he was working on, eye softening when he saw how energetic and happy Michael was after the meal.

"Alright, I'm coming."

After removing Michael from his chair, Tommy brought him over to where he had previously played with his bee, setting the boy down carefully on the floor. "You ready for the best fuckin' surprise ever?"

Michael nodded rapidly, clapping his hooves and flapping his legs.

"Shut your eye."

Michael did so, one of his hooves rushing to cover up his functioning eye. The other hoof covered up his skull eye, despite not being able to see anything out of it. Tommy smiled fondly, placing the stuffed bee in front of his nephew. The bee was sewn up shut, a large red bow tied around its thick neck.

“You can look now.”

Michael removed his hooves and immediately started shrieking with excitement. He rushed forward, almost flattening himself into the plush toy. Tommy stepped back, folding his arms and leaning against the wall with a smirk. “Is your uncle the coolest, or what? Don’t answer that, I know I am.”

It was funny how despite being different species, Michael looked so much like Tubbo in the moment. Tommy recalled a similar situation with Tubbo that happened in the ravine of Pogtopia, and how it happened shortly after Quackity had joined the group. Quackity had gone to secretly fetch items from his old office, returning to Pogtopia with them alongside Tubbo’s beloved bee plush that had been abandoned on the former vice-president’s desk.

The bee was ragged and torn, but a still-recovering Tubbo had been happy beyond tears to have it back. He held it all day, with him only letting go as he slept that night. Tommy had slid the bee gently out of the older boy’s arms and tried to stitch it back up. It didn’t go as well as he had hoped, but Niki had found him underneath the moonlight, and was the one to assist in repairing the plush. Tommy had made Niki promise that she wouldn’t tell Tubbo it was him, but looking back at some of those messy cross-stitches, Tubbo probably figured it out within seconds.

Upon waking up, Tubbo found his newly-repaired bee and began to bleat excitedly, clutching the toy close to his chest and burying his face in it. It had been a moment of joy in the darkness of their situation, and certainly lifted Tommy’s own spirits.

Michael was acting just like his father did then, the memory causing a soft smile across the blonde’s features. Tommy was so lost in his thoughts though, he didn’t notice Michael rushing towards him. In the piglin’s excitement, he had forgotten the one rule his parents had set up for him.

He grabbed a hold of Tommy’s leg, squeezing it tightly in a hug.

Tommy's eyes shot open at the sudden contact, the pressure on his leg constricting him, preventing him from moving it. He couldn't move his leg, he couldn't move his leg, he couldn’t move his leg.

His voice caught in his throat, the walls of it tightening as his breathing sped up. He couldn't scream for help, he couldn't cry out for anybody. All that was there was the searing pain of his wounds as his body was scraped along the ground, Dream's voice in his ears that Tommy couldn't run, that Tommy couldn't beg, that Tommy couldn't leave.

Michael had looked up at his uncle at that point, suddenly aware that the mood in the room had shifted drastically, and still clutching the leg. Tommy returned Michael’s look, trying to weakly shake his leg, which had become numb.

“Michael. Leg.”

It was two words, but Michael immediately realized what he had done, the piglin stepping back a few feet with an apologetic squeal. Unfortunately, Tommy’s head was now spinning, and couldn’t make sense of the room. He was real, he was real, he was real. He wasn’t dead, he wasn’t back in the prison, his head-

Tommy collapsed to the ground, making Michael jolt. Michael started oinking nervously, trying to find out what was going on, and what he could do. Tommy’s head felt like it was going to split open, and he shut his eye tightly, hands clawing at the wooden floor as he tried to communicate with Michael, making sure not to scare him even more. “Brain’s upset.”

Tommy wasn’t able to open his eye to see what Michael’s response was, but Michael was frantically looking around for something that could help. When his parents were upset, he would curl up next to them, snuggling into their sides, but he couldn’t do this with Tommy. His fathers’ one rule had been to never touch Tommy, especially if his uncle wasn’t looking, and Michael had broken it on accident.

Going over everything he liked to do when scared, Michael’s eye landed on his bee plush. Whenever he was worried, he liked to hug it. Would his uncle like doing that too? Nervously, he tried nudging it towards Tommy, little by little. When he thought it was in good-enough range, he let out gentle honks, trying to get his uncle’s attention. It took a few minutes, but Tommy’s eye eventually opened slightly. It looked glazed and unfocused, glancing around the room for a moment before landing on the soft toy placed in front of him.

Slowly, he let go of the floor, the process taking several minutes for him to even reach out for it, but Michael waited the whole time. He gave the toy one move delicate shove, allowing it to roll until it stopped in front of Tommy with about a foot of distance between them. Once more, Tommy grabbing the plush took a while, his arm trembling, and his face pale, but eventually he got a grip of it, pulling it into his chest as quickly as he could.

“Thanks,” Tommy muttered weakly, Michael’s ears rising as he smiled.

-

It was about a half-hour later before Tommy fully calmed down, the comfort of the bee plushie combined with the gentle sounds of Michael’s chirrs lulling him into a more comfortable mindset.

Weakly he got up, the bee plush sitting in his lap as he rubbed away the tear stains. Tommy glanced over to his side, noticing Michael watching him carefully. His head was cocked to the side, and though he seemed happy that Tommy was up, his eyes showed worry for the older boy.

“I’m great, Michael,” Tommy lied a little. He was certainly feeling a lot better, but Michael probably wouldn’t understand if Tommy said he still felt a little disoriented. It was best to reassure the kid more than anything else. Smiling back at his nephew, Tommy carefully handed the bee plush back to him, the worry in Michael’s eyes being replaced with relief and joy.

With a grunt, Tommy hoisted himself up, praying that his arms or legs wouldn't give out again like they did before. He was still shaken up, and definitely not wanting to come in contact with anything else at the moment, his skin feeling cold and exposed from the aftermath. Michael watched him closely, taking a few steps away whenever Tommy would stumble in place, and looked like he was about to fall over. Letting out a sigh, Tommy looked over at Michael, gently smiling at him. "We could use a break. Do you have anything you want to do?"

Michael practically beamed.

-

"Hello~!" Tubbo slammed open the door, his mouth pulled into a cheeky grin.

Ranboo followed behind his husband, letting out an exhausted yawn as he carried a stack of leather almost up to his chin (and for Ranboo's height, that was saying something). "The world's most tired man is back, along with the living embodiment of a firework hyped up on crack."

"Ranboo, don't say that," Tubbo frowned, placing his hands on his hips. "You're nowhere near enough to be as colorful as a firework is."

"Are you implying that you're the tired one here?" Ranboo set down the stack of leather, beginning to brush remaining bits of meat from the leather off of his hands. "Because it seems like I had to do all the work."

"Hey, you're the one who said we should get leather!"

"And that to YOU somehow translated to "let's kill every cow in a four-mile radius". Now I've got gunk all over me."

"We-"

"OH MY GOD, WILL YOU BOTH PLEASE FUCKING SHUT UP?" Tommy yelled from where he sat on the carpet, spinning a plastic spinner that landed on the color red. Michael oinked in agreement, trying to reach the red spot on the plastic mat with his hind leg. Tubbo and Ranboo's conversation was immediately forgotten, the two watching in awe as their son was playing Twister.

"C'mon, big M. You've got this," Tommy encouraged. When Michael wasn't looking, Tommy carefully slid the mat closer together, making the spot reachable for him. Michael placed his leg down, letting out a squeal of victory. Tommy whooped excitedly, Michael raised a hand to give Tommy an air high-five, when he slipped and fell down, squealing in surprise.

"I know last time with Battleship was the weirdest I thought this could get, but I literally have no clue why you keep teaching him games out of his age range." Tubbo muttered, confused, before taking off his uniform and hanging it up on one of the hooks. Ranboo nodded, following Tubbo's actions with his own coat.

"Michael's a trooper!" Tommy folded his arms with satisfaction. "Next time I'm teaching him chess."

"Do you even know how to play chess?"

"Um, of course I do."

"Then why-"

"Okay!" Ranboo clapped his hands together, interrupting the conversation before it spiraled once more. "I assume you two had a good time?"

Tommy and Michael looking away from the couple awkwardly wasn't a good sign.

"Well, it was a good time," Tommy began to explain. "There was just a little accident though. I'll tell you two about it later when, y'know, somebody certain's asleep. But all you need to know is that Michael handled it really well." The blonde looked down at the piglin, flashing a fanged grin. Michael returned the smile, standing up on his stubby legs and rushing to Tubbo to give him a hug.

"How was the patrol thingy?" Tommy stood up as well, stretching as best as he could.

Ranboo and Tubbo were now the ones that looked away awkwardly.

"So somebody," Tubbo began, itching his cheek. "Might have suggested that we should get leather while we were out."

"And SOMEBODY," Ranboo flashed Tubbo a glance, folding his arms. "Decided to commit a mass cow genocide-"

"You know what! That story's not important right now!" Tubbo waved his hands frantically, laughing awkwardly as he avoided eye contact with a glaring Ranboo. "The point is, we didn't end up doing what we wanted to do-"

"Wonder who's fault that is-"

"-SO WE DECIDED TO DO IT ANOTHER TIME!" Tubbo finished, looking like he was about to start sweating buckets. "So, if it's okay, Tommy… could you maybe look after him again tomorrow?"

Tommy grinned again, nodding his head several times. "You can count on it, Tubbs. We definitely need to fuckin' talk about what happened tonight first, but hell yeah! Sounds good to me!"

"If you tell me Michael killed somebody, you're immediately fired as a babysitter and an uncle." Ranboo lifted up Michael from Tubbo's side, allowing the piglin to grab at his horn.

"Michael, if you ever kill somebody, don't tell your dads." Tommy whispered to Michael in piglin, fully knowing what was coming next once Michael giggled.

"Tommy, what did you say to him."

"Manslaughter is pog."

"YOU DID NOT-"

[mxtantrights]

past lives | 5

a/n: it’s time for the whole batfam to come together! who’s excited ?!?!? and when I tell y'all this aint even the climax. Also , cannon is what I make it to be. happy readings <3

“Oh come on!” You shout.

Looking down past the sewer grate you can see you phone. It landed with a bit of a splash and you can only imagine it’s filthy. A sewer in Gotham? There is no way you’re getting you phone back.

You’re on a time crunch anyways. So without wasting any more time you open the back car door and hop in. The driver faces the back.

“You alright there?” 

No you had lost your phone to killer croc probably. But that was okay. Better your phone than your laptop. You had backed up your stuff like a month ago anyways.

Shaking your head you say, “I’m good.”

The driver turns back with a curt nod. He pulls out of park and drives onto the main road.

And maybe you’d lost a few photos and notes app things. But really how important could they have been if you didn’t want them backed up? You made a mental note to yourself to message Fallon through their Twitter DMs.

It isn’t that long a drive until the city becomes trees and trees and more trees. You have the window crack a bit and even the air out of Gotham City feels different. Untouched by the supervilllans. Not that they don’t live outside of Gotham, and if you had to take a couple of guesses Lex Luthor, who had previous dealings with Raʼs al Ghul, probably has a mansion out here.

Shit, Raʼs might have a mansion out here. He’s been around for so long- too long. That part always irked you. To be alive for that long, the mans emotions had to be devoid and frozen over. People come and go, but Raʼs al Ghul never dies.

-

Bruce greets you along with Alfred at the front door. He gives you a quick once over. You look stressed out and that makes him re-think this decision. inciting you over for some flimsy writing piece on the family. 

In reality he just needed something from you. But really it went father than that. Ht wanted to talk to you. Once he saw you at the Gala, the faint memories of your mother started to seep into his conscious thoughts. 

You had the same brown eyes. Looking at you, he can’t really tell what of his features you have. If any. A tiny part of him (that was slowly growing) hoped he would see it in time in you. 

He invited you in and Alfred took your coat. He could tell the experience was new based on the face you made and the fact that you outright offered to put away your own coat. It was genuine. 

Alfred of course hushed you off. Bruce took this time to usher you into the dinning room. It wasn’t diner time, more so lunch. Seven plates were set on the table. 

The both of you decided against sitting at the table yet. 

“Are you expecting another guest?” you ask.

Bruce looked at the number of plates then back at you. 

“My youngest son will be joining us.” Bruce answers.

“You have four sons?” 

“You didn’t see the youngest at the Gala, he was occupied.” 

You nod your head.

“Oh I also wanted to ask if you were okay with me recording you. I take written notes but taping is like my back-up.” you say.

Bruce agrees instantly and applauds your resourcefulness. He takes you over to the table and shows you where you can place the recorded for optimal sound. It makes you wonder about how he- billionaire of Gotham- would know where to put a recorder that picks up multiple voices.

You let the thought go when you hear footsteps. 

Before you know it, in through the door of the dining room comes Tim and Jason. Tim sends you a wave as he takes his seat. His brother on the other hand has other ideas.

Jason walks right up to you.

“I see I was right.” he says.

You scrunch you face in confusion, “About what exactly?”

“To be continued.”

You relax you face when you remember that is the last thing he said to you at the Gala. And you try your best to hide the smile on your face. It was no blush but you have a feeling he was the type to take a mile, given an inch when it comes to woo-ing.

“I’m here for an interview. With your whole family.” you alert him.

He feigns a pained expression, “Oh I thought you were here solely for me.”

Bruce had been watching the discussion between the two of you out of his peripheral. Tim was telling him about some new league activities, paraphrasing because you were in the room.

“I’m not late right?” 

In came Dick Grayson. Fallon had told you how cute his face was. They had saw his facial expression when you bumped into him. They said ‘He turned a bit red in the face, eyes wide like a Bambi or something. It was cute.”

You did see him face after you bumped into him and you agreed. It also helped that he was Gotham’s pretty boy. 

And so Gotham’s pretty boy was looking at you. In his home- or childhood home, you should note one of those options in the piece.

He walks over to you and Jason.

“Hi, I’m Dick Grayson we met at-” he begins.

“At the gala, I remember. Hi there.” you cut him off and give him your name.

“Wow, what are the chances that you’re the writer for this- what is it an op-ed? Fluff piece?” he asks.

You honestly chuckle at that. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Trying to get the spotlight?” Jason shot back.

Your eyes darted between the two men as they teased one another. 

Bruce was able to reign them in and get them to sit in their seats. Which they took like they were assigned. Jason sat across from Tim, next to Dick. Bruce was stills standing. You made another note to yourself to maybe tease that in your writing.

You took a seat at the end of the table, near the door. You had your questions on file so you didn’t really need to hear yourself on the recording. And you weren’t really planning to go off script too much.

A few seconds later you hear footsteps again. This must be the young one, you thought. And you were right as you watch a little body walk right past you and over to Tim. When he took your seat, you remained perfectly still. 

He hadn’t looked in your direction yet. 

Bruce cleared his throat before heading over to his seat across from you. He eyed his youngest child. This is what made him finally look at you, and he too went still as a rock.

“You must be the youngest,” you say. 

Then you introduce yourself. As if you don’t know that's Damian, Raʼs al Ghul grandson. You know his name. Hell you knew what the top of his head smelled like when he was freshly born.

“Hello, I’m Damian Wayne.” 

“That’s actually spelled D-e-m-o-n, for the record.” 

[clearlynotjanus]

Moceit Appreciation Week :: Aftermath

Read on Ao3

Art by @nonchimerical​

tag list: @sanderssidesangsttrash @catalinaacosta @whatishappeningrightnow @the-snekwhisperer-world @varthandi @the-dead-and-the-decaying @serpentinesomebody ​​​

CW: Alcohol/Wine mention, food mention, insinuated swearing Word Count: 5646 Genre: Hurt/Comfort Rating: Teen Ships: Moceit, implied Loceit, implied Intruloceit, implied Dukeceit, implied if you squint Prinxiety

To support my writing & get access to exclusive content not posted anywhere else, consider subscribing to my Patreon.

         “Well,” Janus started, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Seems like things worked out after all,” Here it comes, he thought, another round of the Blame Game. “Guess I was wrong about everything,” It didn’t matter that they had just come to some sort of understanding; after years of passing the buck between them, Janus was awfully accustomed to Patton saying his input was wrong -- Especially in a situation like this, where evolving circumstances made his advice seem moot.

         “You and I both know …” Patton’s soft voice interrupted Janus’ bitterness. The tone caught him off guard, though as far as he knew, the sentence would end in a crushing you’re wrong. It was best not to get his hopes up, but the silence dragged on too long, and Janus’ defenses fell with his racing thoughts. “That’s not true,” Patton finished finally and Janus couldn’t help but to look over at the wistfully pensive expression that accompanied Patton’s admission. Perhaps it was just a sense of victory he felt, but humorlessly, his lips reciprocated.

         “Is that--” Janus began only to be comedically interrupted by the vagrant and imaginative impression of Leslie Odom Jr. With a heavy sigh, the specter was dismissed and the sounds of Thomas with his friends began to fill the apartment.

         Awkwardly, Janus and Patton stood next to each other. Sidelong, Janus caught Patton’s expression softening as Thomas laughed loudly at something Lee just said.

         “Well, even if things did work out,” Janus started again, chin raised like he expected a fight. Patton blinked and turned his head, wearing a curious expression as though he had actually been content standing in silence together. “You should still consider what Logan and I said today.”

         “Oh, well, yeah,” Patton said like that was a given. The sentence trailed off in an unusual and nervous way that made it feel like he had more to say, but more never came. Janus resigned himself to being content with that. Patton had seen the repercussions of his actions; there was little more he could do now besides press the issue when need be.

         “Good,” He paused, nodding slightly. Speaking of Logan, the thought crossed his mind that he should check on him, given how their bargain had gone. “At any rate, I suppose I’ll … see you another time.”

         Patton forced a smile, pulling at the fabric of his shirt anxiously. “Yeah! See you around, Jan,” The old nickname slipped out and Patton cleared his throat.

         A week later, Patton squeaked an, “Oh,” as he walked into the Light Side kitchen. “Hiya, Janus,” He greeted in a pitchy, nervous voice. A weird feeling blossomed in his stomach and he thought he might be getting sick.

         “Hello, Patton,” Janus gave a half-lipped smile as he finally reached into the fridge, having stood here for the better part of an hour.

         “Didn’t expect to see you over here,” Patton’s anxiety was evident; just holding the cup he had come to place into the sink was a gamble given how shaky his hands were suddenly. “Everything okay?”

         “Oh, just peachy,” He responded sweetly, tipping the freshly retrieved carton of milk into his now cold cup of tea. “We were just out of milk you see,” He explained, holding the carton up as evidence before sliding it back into the fridge.

         “Oh, okay,” Well, that made sense, as long as Patton didn’t think about it too hard. Brushing his hip against the counter on the far side of the kitchen, Patton placed his cup into the sink and promptly turned back around. “Well if that’s all, I’ll--”

         “There was one more thing actually,” Janus interrupted, absentmindedly opening a drawer to borrow a spoon. He turned to face Patton, expression unreadable. “Just while I have you here, of course.”

         “S-sure!” Patton stuttered. “What’s on your mind?” He gripped the lip of the counter he leaned against, knuckles soon going white.

         “Well I was just wondering,” Janus continued slowly as he stirred his tea unnecessarily. “If you had any, oh I don’t know;” his tongue clicked with a shallow, one shouldered shrug. “Dilemmas, problems, maybe some quandaries of poor Thomas’ that you needed to … bounce ideas around for?”

         Patton gulped and quickly shook his head. The lively feeling in his stomach suddenly felt unpleasantly warm. “Nope!” He laughed humorlessly as he pushed himself forward and started to stumble backwards out of the kitchen. “None at all! Thomas has, hah, Thomas has been doing just great lately! No problems here!” The air sweetened and Janus lost his appetite for his overly sugared cup of tea. “If that’s all--”

         “Yes, yes, whatever then,” Janus raised the spoon out of his cup and waved it dismissively with a sigh, flicking drops of tea on the floor.

         Patton hopped the last two steps out of the kitchen and was hardly down the hall when he heard a new voice. High pitched and nasally, it was unmistakably the Duke’s. Patton’s body froze in fear.

         “Janny! What’s taking you so long?” Janny? Patton questioned internally. That’s … actually kind of a cute nickname…

         “Remus,” Janus sounded annoyed and surprised. “I told you to wait.”

         “I was waiting! For like, a whole hour! How long does it take to get milk?” The frustration in Remus’ voice grew and Patton’s brows furrowed. An hour? Janus was … in their kitchen for an hour?

         “However long it takes,” Janus mumbled and Patton got the sense he wasn’t talking about getting milk anymore. Suddenly the clattering sound of Janus carelessly tossing his teacup into the sink rang in his ears; until then, Patton didn’t realize how hard he was listening, or how quickly his heart was beating. He squeaked, too loudly, and then the voices in the kitchen stopped as he threw a hand over his mouth.

         “Who the fu--” Remus abruptly stopped. Patton’s ears twitched, going red. He could almost make out the sound of a whisper. Fear set adrenaline lose in his blood and he silently sank out.

         Later that month, Patton and Roman sat on the couch, watching some show together. Between Roman becoming distracted with the notebook in his lap and Patton dreamily staring out the window, neither of them really knew what was happening on screen; but that much didn’t really matter. Patton enjoyed sitting there, listening to Roman’s scribbles, and Roman enjoyed not being holed up in his room, burning his candle at both ends. It was a pleasant afternoon, for all intents and purposes.

         “I’m going to grab a Coke,” Roman said with a stretch, setting his notebook aside. “You want one?”

         “Huh?” Patton blinked, “Oh yeah, sure. Thanks!” He said with a typical smile.

         The cushions had hardly risen from Roman’s absence before the couch was jostled again. “That was fas--” Patton started before registering who had actually taken Roman’s place. “Oh, J-Janus, hello,” His voice hitched and the television suddenly felt muted.

         “Hello, darling,” Janus greeted warmly, an arm over the back of the couch.

         “What’s up?” Patton questioned, taking a deep breath. Nerves wracked his stomach familiarly and a warmth made the back of his neck itch. “Everything alright?”

         “Splendid, of course, thank you,” Janus charmed and paused. With curiosity, he reached for Roman’s notebook between them.

         “Oh, you shouldn--” Patton started but it was too late; Janus had flipped open the cover and started admiring the haphazard yet beautiful doodles on the first page.

         “So I was thinking,” Janus began, thumbing to another page. His eyes glazed over the curly cursive writing. Patton glanced anxiously behind Janus; if Roman walked in right now… “Have you noticed anything … off about our dear Thomas lately?”

         “Off?” Patton echoed. He tried to think; ever since the reconciliation he had with Lee and Mary-Lee, things had been … better. Patton had been trying to lay off of reacting to things so quickly and he thought he was doing well with it. “N-no, I don’t think anything specific’s been wrong,” He surmised slowly. “Why do you ask?” Had Janus noticed something he didn’t? His stomach tightened uncomfortably now.

         “Just wondering is all,” He dismissed with a curt smile. A pause ensued and Patton could hear Roman hum-singing to himself in the kitchen. Janus placed his palm on the couch and stared at Patton from under his lashes after a moment. “Though that brings up an interesting question, don’t you think?” His voice was low and provocative. Patton had to listen closely to hear anything at all, which made him lean towards Janus unconsciously. He felt like a useless fly; did that make Janus something dangerous? Something that’d burn him or swallow him up if he got too close?

         “D-does it?” Patton stuttered, trying to keep his voice as quiet as Janus’. Admittedly, he wasn’t exactly following; too paranoid about Roman coming back, too nervous about what Janus was about to say, too flustered from suddenly being this close. Butterflies cut up the inside of his stomach.

         “Mhmmmm,” Janus exaggerated, “Tell me,” He batted his eyes and Patton’s cheeks warmed. “Would you even let me know if something was wrong? ... Would you let me help in that case?”

         Patton’s mouth opened like he had a response immediately, but no words followed; only a rush of warm air that blew sweetly in Janus’ face. He didn’t have an answer to that question, and thankfully, he wouldn’t need one.

         “One Coke for the Marvelous Morality~” Roman sang as he rounded the kitchen corner, two filled glasses in his hands.

         Patton blinked and Janus was gone, making him wonder if he had imagined the entire thing. Roman slid the drinks onto the coffee table and plopped heavily back on the couch with a gruff sound. Patton straightened his back as Roman reached for his notebook.

         “Hm?” Roman’s brow furrowed, “Did you open this, Pat?” Patton struggled with his words for a second before Roman laughed. “If you wanted to read what I was working on, you could’ve just asked! Here,” Roman flipped through the pages, ignorant to the dumbfounded expression on Patton’s face, “I’ll read this much to you, but prepare yourself; it’s a little rough,” Roman said with grandeur before clearing his throat several times.

         If asked, Patton couldn’t recall what Roman had read to him then. Janus’ words kept repeating in his ears until Patton was so dizzy, he felt faint.

         The warm month of May shifted impatiently towards the sweltering Flordian heat of June. Even as the sun set, the summer continued to loom with heavy, humid air. Realizing that the apartment showed no signs of cooling off any time soon, Patton went to his room with the intent of changing into something lighter than his usual khakis. His heart stopped and all traces of a coherent thought process came to an abrupt halt, however, as he spotted someone on his bed.

         “Oh hello, dear,” Janus purred as though this was a chance meeting. He was lounging back, head resting against Patton’s pillow, one leg crossed over the other. His hat was placed on his stomach, revealing a crooked hairline that seemed to be pushed back by the encroaching scales on the left side of his face; a sight Patton had caught glimpses of by now, but not one he was altogether familiar with.

         “J-Janus!” Patton managed through the shock, a hand clutched the fabric of his shirt at his chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack!” He panted, forcing himself to take a gasping, deep breath.

         “Apologies,” Janus offered a half smile, but hadn’t yet looked at Patton for more than a glance. Instead, he was focused on flipping through the rectangle shaped memories in his hands. Patton recognized them, once he gathered his senses enough to register the scene fully.

         “You ... came to look at those?” Patton assumed, leaning to the side with a raised chin to peer at the one Janus was now staring at. It was an old memory that had begun to go grayscale at the edges. From Patton’s point of view like all of them, it showed Janus; smug at all of ten years old in an oversized hat that fell lopsided on his head. He looked as smart as any actual lawyer might as they won their case. Janus could tell Patton had been smiling when this memory became dear enough to actualize here, in his room.

         “In a way,” Janus admitted. Unlike prior conversations, his voice was soft and now he, too, wore a rather endeared smile -- at least for a silent moment, as they both appreciated the memory. Soon he sighed and flipped to the next. The color of this one was vibrant and tinged in an idealistic, soft pink; the color of a schoolboy’s blush. Janus, now perhaps thirteen, reached over with a puzzle piece in hand. It was one of the last few Patton needed to finish the border he had been working on all afternoon. He remembers having begun tearing up, frustrated at not being able to complete something like that. But then Janus walked in. He had simply blinked between Patton’s watery eyes and the pile of pieces, sat down, and began to rifle through them for a moment before locating the one Patton needed. He pressed it into place easily and smiled. It hadn’t been his usual egotistical or knowing smile. It was one that made Patton’s little teenage heart race.

         Janus sighed with finality and placed the pile of memories on Patton’s bedside table. As he sat on the edge, he put his hat back on. “Mostly I wanted to see if my own memories lined up,” Janus said as he stood, busying himself with adjusting his clothing. “You’ve been so obstinate lately, I had begun to think we never worked well together.”

         Patton’s heart sank and so did his head. “We used to,” He whispered at the floor.

         “We did,” Janus said, bittersweetness on his tongue. He shrugged and took slow steps around Patton. “It’s a shame you won’t just let us be like that again,” Janus shrugged a flimsy wrist, sounding mockingly disheartened. “But,” He amended as he reached the door behind Patton. “You’ve had everything handled without me for years now, so,”

         “Yeah,” Patton agreed, instantly regretting how loud his voice was. “I have had everything handled! This whole time!” He spun around and Janus’ hand froze on the doorknob. “Without you! and now you’re trying to be around, acting like we can just go back to how it was, assuming that the others will just -- just -- get over it or something,” Patton’s voice gained an exasperated and humored edge despite finding absolutely none of this funny. “Roman nearly had a breakdown at just the idea of trusting you! Virgil can’t be in the same room with you! I just -- I don’t,” Patton’s anger began to fizzle out into despair.

         His breathing caught up with him, now heavy and quick. The hand that had been pointing with accusation at Janus’ back fell with the intent of gripping his shoulder, but as though Janus saw that coming, he pulled away.

         “I see,” He said, after a silent moment with an unreadable tone. “You have a lot to worry about,” Janus released the door knob. “Don’t let me keep you then,” and as fast as Patton could blink, Janus was gone.

         One night, a little over a week later, Patton couldn’t sleep no matter what he did. Supposing he deserved a cookie for his trouble, he wandered into the kitchen, only to find the light already on. He froze and blinked sleepy eyes at the scene; was that … Janus? and Logan? Sitting at the small table by the bookshelf together? Patton gulped and the pair noticed him before he could digest much more.

         “Patton,” Logan greeted curtly, sitting up as he seemed to notice how far over he had been leaning. “It’s late. What are you doing up?”

         “Well I could say the same thing to you!” Patton joked, but his tone was off. The three sat in awkward silence and Janus busied himself with retrieving the nearly empty bottle of wine from the floor between them. “Wh--What are you guys up to?” Patton asked conversationally, pressing his knuckles together nervously.

         Janus and Logan exchanged a look and Patton’s face became feverish. He had never felt so terribly out of place before. He shifted on his feet, realizing how uncomfortable his skin was.

         “Well if you must know,” Janus answered, refilling Logan’s glass before meeting Patton’s eyes. His gaze was lidded, knowing, and it set Patton on fire. “We’re trying to find a solution to a problem you insist doesn’t exist.”

         “Oh now, that can’t be true!” Patton objected eagerly, taking a half step forward only to receive a dubious expression from Logan.

         “And why’s that?” Janus asked as he refilled his own glass. “Because you know everything?” His voice was heavy with sarcasm and wine. Janus could feel Logan’s gaze on him now; curious, wondering how he had gone from laughing demurely at something one moment to passive aggressively reproaching Patton the next. Janus wondered in turn what Logan would think of him for his words, but figured the judgement wouldn’t be too harsh. Patton annoyed them both most of the time. “Or because you think we’re too inept to solve anything for Thomas?”

         Patton’s hands shook as they anxiously balled fists in the fabric of his shirt. Why would Janus say something so mean? His stomach twisted into intricate knots. Is that how Janus thought he felt? Did he really think Patton thought he was inept? His eyes stung as he stared at the ground. He couldn’t cry here, that’d just add more shame to this horrific, nightmarish moment.

         “N-neither, really,” Patton whispered, not trusting his voice to be any louder.

         “Why then?” Janus pressed insistently, staring Patton down with hands folded atop the haphazard papers. Logan shifted uncomfortably in his chair. This felt like a grotesque mockery of their court scenario the other day...

         Patton sniffled quietly, trying to keep from snotting all over himself. “I didn’t realize anything was wrong…” His voice pitched and broke with the effort he extended to keep from sobbing on the spot. How awful it was, to be misinterpreted this gravely, to not have the words to explain himself, to think Janus hated him for not knowing how to ask for forgiveness.

         Janus swallowed a lump in his throat and forced himself to roll his eyes. “Well that’s your mistake then,” He mumbled, sitting back in his chair. As he reached for his freshly poured glass of wine, Logan hesitantly pressed feather-light fingers against his sleeve.

         “I think that’s enough,” Logan whispered without much tact before looking back at Patton. “We were almost finished here. The kitchen is all yours in a few moments,” Janus scornfully met his serious gaze and soon clicked his tongue. This time, his eye roll was genuine.

         “Yeah sure,” Janus snarked to no one in particular as he stood. “Let’s leave it all to Patton. As usual.”

         “Thank you all for joining us today,” Logan began professionally, briskly meeting everyone’s eyes.

         “Yes, thank you all so much for taking the time out of your very busy schedules,” Janus snarked in good humor from his position next to Logan; an easel with a balanced poster board stood between them. The information on the board was utilitarian in design; flat colors with thick black lines. Altogether, it was very easy to read and especially clear that Janus, with all his dramatic flair, didn’t have a single hand involved in the writing of it.

         “Sure thing,” Patton interjected from his usual spot near the sliding glass door. He raised a finger like one would raise their hand in class. “But uh, I’m a little confused. What’s this all about?”

         “I’m glad you asked, Patton,” Logan began, immediately getting cut off by Virgil, who had shoved himself in the very corner of the stairway.

         “This is a waste of time, why am I here? I have nothing to do with stuff like this,” he gestured at the poster board, clearly not actually reading anything written there.

         “You’re here so we can get your input,” Logan gestured between Patton, Roman, and Remus, who seemed to be fidgeting with some wires behind the television, “Along with everyone else’s.”

         “I say let him go if he wants to,” Janus mumbled cynically, adjusting his capelet. “He’s not at all capable of providing helpful feedback.”

         “You mean I don’t feed your ego,” Virgil replied bitterly with a scowl. His mouth opened to continue but no sound was produced as Logan met his eyes expectantly. Virgil sighed and shifted stubbornly against the wall. “But fine. If Logan has something to say, I guess I’ll listen. For a bit.”

         “Thank you, Virgil,” Logan said, offering a small smile.

         At some point during Virgil and Janus’ bickering, the twins began to argue. The quarrel increased in volume and Janus cleared his throat.

         “Darling?” Janus called, brows and chin raised. Remus’ head poked up from behind the television; black, blue, and red wires were between his lips like thick spaghetti noodles. Roman crossed his arms with a loud huff and a dramatic roll of his eyes. “Care to clue me in on what’s going on over there?”

         Using his tongue, Remus maneuvered the wires to the right side of his mouth. “Roboat thinks he can stop me from eating these wires,” He explained with his mouth full. Janus scrunched his nose delicately and shook his head.

         “Leave their wires alone, dear,” Remus deflated and opened his lips, letting the spit-soaked things fall out and back onto the floor. Patton went visibly queasy at the display, pulling at the hem of his shirt nervously.

         “Okay,” Remus pouted exaggeratedly.

         Janus turned and smiled pleasantly at Logan, who adjusted his glasses with a hint of exasperation, though both Janus and Remus knew the irritation was only ever meant with fondness for the Duke.

         “If we’re ready to begin,” Logan started and everyone fell begrudgingly silent. “For several weeks now, Janus and I hav--”

         “Wait, wait, wait,” Virgil interrupted, sitting up again and waving his hands hastily. “You and Deceit have been talking for weeks now?” Patton chewed his lip and tried to look at anything but the inevitable fight currently breaking out.

         “Hey, yeah!” Roman agreed, pointing in Logan and Janus’ direction. Anger creased his expression. “I haven’t even seen that Sneaking Snob around here at all! Wouldn’t we have noticed if he was stalking around here like some B movie villain?”

         “Maybe you would have if you were more perceptive,” Janus mumbled to himself, looking busily down at his gloved hand as though to inspect his nails. Remus snickered and whispered an oooo, like Roman had just gotten called to the principal's office.

         “I’m plenty perceptive, thank you, Boa Bitch-stricter,” Roman dropped his arm heatedly.

         The bickering continued for several more minutes, insults flying towards Janus from both Virgil and Roman. He took them in stride, giving his own snide and sarcastic comments back that only served to fuel both of their tempers. Patton’s nerves grew with each passing second; he shifted on his feet, pushed his knuckles together, debated sinking out silently but figured he’d better not cause more tension than there already was. Eventually, Logan spoke up above the roar.

         “If you would all just listen,” He said, managing to gain everyone’s attention. “I promise we’ll be through in just a few minutes,” Everyone mumbled a respective, incoherent comment each as they shuffled and settled back to their original positions. Remus gave a cheer in support of Logan, which was followed by a whispered curse and apology as the latter gave a pointedly serious look.

         To a silent and mostly attentive room, Logan explained what he and Janus had been discussing and planning for the last two months. Thomas’ financial situation, they all agreed, wasn’t spectacular. To that end, Logan had asked the newly accepted Janus if he had any ideas or solutions. Despite Janus’ surprise at being asked for input (and being considered ‘accepted’ at this point), he offered to go over the issue in detail with Logan; something none of the others had done to date. Over late nights of tasteful wine and the occasional dinner beforehand, they had crunched numbers, mapped solutions, and thought up lists of pros and cons to a multitude of different fixes.

         Hearing this, gears clicked into place for Patton; the time he had stumbled on them late at night made a lot more sense now. Though even with the explanation, Patton’s stomach continued to knot painfully. He would really rather not recall that moment. It was filled with such shame and guilt and suspicion, he almost refused to believe it had even happened.

         “And so after all that,” Logan approached the end of his explanation, “We settled on a very reliable and doable solution; Thomas and his team should, by all means, open up a Patreon.”

         The audience’s eyes went wide as they stared at each other. The fact that the numbers had gone over their heads was clear on their faces, but the conclusion was easy enough to understand.

         “So wait,” Virgil said, sitting up slowly, “Basically, what you’re saying is, we should ask the viewers for money, for something Thomas already gives them for free?” He asked incredulously.

         “I don’t see why we couldn’t provide them with a little something extra every now and again,” Janus chimed in with a flourish of his fingers and an enigmatic grin. “The amount of things Thomas keeps hidden...phew, let me tell you,” His brows raised dramatically.

         “You’re considering airing out his dirty laundry? For money?” Roman interjected, tone fantastically offended. “Preposterous! Who do you think you are, treating Thomas’ classified secrets like they’re some measly prince being sold for ransom!”

         “Like that isn’t what our series is already based on?” Janus asked skeptically. Roman fell silent after a few sputtered and disjointed, rather useless words. “The point is,” Janus continued after a moment, meeting everyone’s eyes seriously now. “Thomas can’t afford to keep making videos if we don’t do something. I know you’re all against me, but you could at least extend the courtesy of considering it for Logan.”

         Again the room became hushed, but only for a moment before Remus decided to speak up.

         “It’s a great idea. Lolo! But I think he could make even more money if he did an OnlyFans!” Remus said too loudly for the room’s atmosphere. Patton flinched and grimaced distastefully, beginning to regret not making a bigger fuss about letting the Duke attend this meeting.

         “No one asked you,” Roman snarked, turning slightly to glare at his brother.

         “Actually,” Logan interrupted, “We did ask him, all of you,” He gestured with an open palm. “We’re asking you to consider it, as Janus said. No big decision needs to be made right now, even if I don’t quite understand what the hold up could possibly be,” Logan glanced at Janus with a hint of aggravation, “But something bad will happen if we don’t do something.”

         “Alright,” Patton said quietly, nodding. “I think we get it, so,” He looked sheepishly around the room; Roman and Virgil had perked up significantly at Patton’s words. They both clearly waited with expectant expressions for Morlaity’s opinion. The twisting in his stomach grew uncomfortably hot. “So,” He repeated before drawing in a breath through his teeth, “Why don’t we all take the night and think about it. We’ll talk more about it tomorrow after … after we’ve all had a little while to think.”

         “Very well,” Logan responded immediately, almost cheerfully -- at least cheerfully for Logan’s standards. “That’s quite alright with me, though please try to be quick about it.”

         Janus’ brow pinched subtly as he stared at Patton for a moment too long. Logan had called his name twice before the third reached him through his thoughts.

         “Janus?”

         “Oh, yes,” He cleared his throat and nodded shallowly a few times, “By all means, do drag this out.”

         Logan nodded, agreeing with the true intent of Janus’ sarcastic comment as he removed the poster board from the easel. As he collapsed the set up, Patton sunk out silently; the twins began fighting again and Virgil had somehow gotten pulled into their bickering. “That went well,” Logan summarized quietly to Janus, who was still staring distractedly at the space Patton usually occupied. “You were right unfortunately,” Logan paused, waiting for Janus to respond, only continuing when he realized no immediate retort was coming. “About them needing time to think about it?”

         “Huh? Oh, yes,” Janus mumbled. Logan frowned; did it not go over as well as he thought? “You have all this handled, correct?” Janus gestured vaguely at the room, taking steps away.

         “I suppose…?” Logan answered slowly. He started to say something else, but Janus had already disappeared.

         Janus knocked on Patton’s door three times, the sound muffled by his gloves. From his bed, Patton flinched and instinctually squeezed the pillow in his lap tighter.

         “B-be right there!” Patton called out, forcing his voice to sound cheerful. He inhaled a ragged breath and scrubbed at his face with dry hands. Please let it be Roman, please let it be Roman, please let i--

         “H-hey Janus,” Patton greeted, swallowing his disappointment as he opened the door.

         “Hello, dear,” Janus’ voice matched the serious tone he had used in his closing statement at the meeting just a few minutes ago, though the edges of it were softened. Patton thought his brow was creased and wondered what he was worrying about. “How are you?” He asked, and Patton had a hard time believing the question was genuine.

         “Oh, I’m fine!” Patton said and Janus’ mouth watered. “Was just getting ready for bed,” he gestured behind him with a thumb and hoped that was enough to deter Janus from any kind of conversation. “S-so if you really don’t mind,” He continued, taking a half step back and starting to close the door slowly. “I sure am wiped from that meeting,” Patton forced a yawn.

         “I know you’re lying,” Janus said pointedly, tone deliberate and unamused as he reached a hand to stop the door in its tracks.

         Patton frowned, almost pouting as he stared at the floor. Janus’ eyes were too severe just then, and meeting them made his chest hurt. The silence dragged on as Patton found himself in an impossible situation; Janus knew he wasn’t okay, but that didn’t imply he was concerned enough to hear what was on his mind. Even if Janus did want to know, Patton wasn’t sure he could manage to sound coherent. To make matters worse, if all that weren’t true and he did get his feelings across to Janus, they felt silly and inconsequential in the face of Logan and Janus’ idea. They spoke so surely, so convincingly, and all Patton had was … feelings.

         “Patton,” Janus said softly, letting his hand fall from the door, “How are you?” He asked again, sounding more insistent.

         “I’m,” Patton started to repeat himself again but looked up to see Janus’ face. He wore such a distressed expression, Patton almost wanted to ask if he was okay. “I’m,” He began again, voice shaking as he clutched his shirt. “I’m scared,” Patton admitted in a whisper after a long pause.

         Janus’ posture relaxed with a quiet sigh. He remained silent, knowing Patton well enough to predict that he would continue of his own accord now that the dam was open.

         “I’m scared that I’m doing the wrong thing, but I’m … I’m not even sure what I’m doing. I’m scared that the others will hate me if I … If I,” Patton swallowed, “If I start letting you help again. B-but I’m also scared that,” His voice quickened, gaining speed like a rushing torrent of unstoppable water. “If I don’t let you help, I’ll just keep hurting Thomas. I’m scared that Virgil will lose himself again and leave us, I’m scared that Roman won’t be able to help Thomas if--if Remus is around, I’m terrified that Remus will hurt Thomas, and,” Patton inhaled a ragged breath. When he continued, his voice was a slow whisper again. “I’m scared of you, of--of not knowing how much selfishness is just right. I know you don’t want to hurt Thomas, I do, but …” He looked up with teary eyes finally, meeting Janus’ patient gaze. “But what if we get it wrong?”

         “Then we’ll fix it and get it right together,” Janus replied instantly, like he knew exactly where Patton’s words were going to end up. “Like we always have,” He affirmed calmly, his tone and expression implying that, while this conclusion was obvious, Janus didn’t mind saying it as often Patton needed to hear it.

         Patton gasped and the tears in his eyes fell. Hastily he reached up to brush them away with mumbled apologies. Janus rolled his eyes and muttered a sarcastically impatient, “Come here,” as he reached to hug Patton with both arms.

         “Just because you’ve done it alone all this time doesn’t mean you should continue to, darling,” he said as Patton gripped the front of Janus’ shirt, letting himself be selfishly consoled, for just a second he told himself. “You can rely on me, that’s all I’ve been trying to say,” He chastised gently. “The others will get used to it again. Thomas isn’t giving them much of a choice on that one,” His tone gained a humored edge and Patton whined softly. Janus chuckled and gave him a final squeeze before gently pushing him away with hands on his upper arms. “As for everything else,” He continued as Patton sniffled, “We’ll figure it out,” Janus said nonchalantly, with a fond smile.

         “Together?” Patton whispered, his voice cracking.

         “Together.”

Chapter One || Chapter Two

[juminly]

Invisible String (Napoleon Bonaparte x Reader)

Prompt #4  and #77 by @missmorosis: “Marry me. Now.” and “I can’t say her name without smiling!”

Tags: Fluff + Mutual Pining. PS: Everything in Italic is spoken in French. –♥–

As the song “Sacré Charlemagne” rang loudly in the air, you were whisked into a jolly circle with the children in the little school that Napoleon and Isaac created by the fountain, which you always seemed to forget the name. You absolutely hated using the term “poor children” as everyone referred to them so you made an effort to learn and memorize each one of their names, even if it earned you a few devilish snickers when you stuttered over a few of their names, fumbling through your misconstructed sentences.

Compared to the children, your grammar and vocabulary was absolutely atrocious and it seemed like the infamous Monsieur de Wahaha found way too much pleasure in it, you could see him biting his bottom lip, muffling his chuckle yet his shoulders gave him away before the rambunctious sound escaped him, racking through his entire body. The few swats that Napoleon had to suffer from you did not deter him from losing himself into a fit of laughter. Your expressions never failed to amuse him, his heart feeling lighter than it had ever been in his chest and the adorable pout on your lips that tempted a little too much.

Just to press his lips against yours, Napoleon would always think. Only for a moment, that’s all he wished for. To simply hold you in his arms, engulf you in his warm embrace, where you would be safe and… loved. Feel your soft plush lips and watch as your face turns to a bright shade of red that roses would envy. His thoughts always found a way to drift to you. The petite nunuche with a kind heart, a bright mind and sass that could rival Mozart’s snark.

While you attempted to decipher the words that you were singing, your botched pronunciation did not help much though, the children jumping around, pulling you forcefully into the merry atmosphere that you had absolutely no qualms to join. Fingers that were even smaller than yours wrapped tightly around your palms, squeezed them as tightly as you felt your heart clench in your chest. Even when you were so far from the place you truly called home, with Napoleon, with these children, you found another meaning to the word. How was it that even when you were in the middle of dancing and having fun, your mind was still flooded with thoughts of him? Finding absolutely any hook just to keep him in your mind, clinging to you with no chance for you to escape from them. Even if you wanted to. Was it because he was near? Was it because you felt his eyes on you? Without even looking, you could feel the intensity of his piercing gaze, thoughtful yet kind, that made your body go through a plentiful of sensations that were too many to count on your fingers. Napoleon didn’t realize that he had paused his lesson, his eyes trained on you, seeing you radiate happiness, the happiness that the little ones shared with you even when they lived in some of the most dire of circumstances. If there is anything that you have learned, it was that the smallest things that made a difference. It is the little things that truly mattered. That is a truth that the former Emperor himself has come to realize after being relieved from the responsibility of leading his country and has tasked himself in aiding those that would be the future of France. “Who taught you that song, Clement?” Napoleon called out to one of the boys that were in your circle, shaking his head incredulously and still laughing for a reason that you had still yet to uncover. You weren’t sure what Napoleon was necessarily asking but it was definitely about the song. That was the only word ‘chanson’ that you recognized in his sentence.

“All of you. Come here and form a circle. I think it’s about time that you all learn about what Charlemagne has truly done and why you should be grateful.” Chuckling to himself, he stood from the spot he was sitting in and walked towards you, leaning down so that you were both eye to eye. You didn’t know why every time he did that, it made your heart flutter, doing a bunch of those weird somersaults that kinda made you want to puke.. But not really, at the same time. Being around Napoleon made you feel a flurry of strange sensations. Thinking about him too. That was a fact. “You do realize that this song depicts how much children hold contempt for Charlemagne for inventing school? Whatever you were singing with them right now beats the whole purpose of what we are trying to do for them.” With an eyebrow cocked, Napoleon folded his arms in front of his chest, waiting for a response from you yet the corner of his lips were clearly strained as he fought back a wide smile. “Wait…” You blinked at him in surprise, clearly unaware of the situation that you were put into due to the language barrier. “I… I promise I had no idea! That was definitely and totally not my intention! Oh my God…” It was a funny situation and you found yourself stuck between a state of slight panic and laughter, both emotions reflecting clearly on your visage. The last thing that you wanted was for Napoleon to be disappointed in you. You held him in such high regards, and he did so to you when it came to you, so you didn’t want to do anything to ruin that. A small laugh escaped him, his large hand reaching to ruffle your hair gently before tucking the stray strands away from your face and behind your ear. A gesture that was so simple yet that was done with so much love. Love that you were completely blind to. “This is why you’re my petite nunuche. Come sit and I’ll explain it all to you, princess.” The sly grin he gave you, one that was more like a wide smile, was much too irresistible, your own smile tracing across your blushing face. As he turned away from you and found his seat before everyone, you noticed something. You knew that look in his eyes. It was one that you knew very well, the passion brimming in them, the heart he put into teaching these childrens and sharing with them everything that he had to give. Nothing was ever too much to ask for with Napoleon. God… you couldn’t stop staring at him and you still hadn’t realized why, assuming it was just because he was a born charismatic leader who was now capturing everyone’s attention as he began a history lesson about the medieval emperor Charlemagne and all he had done for France and for the world. Whenever any discussion happened between you, he always leaned down and looked straight into your eyes, especially since you were quite shorter than him. Even when you stood next to one another, he still did the same. Not only with you but with the kids as well, crouching down so that he was on the same level as them, never making anyone feel as though they were inferior. Never looking down on anyone. He spoke to all, treated all, as his equals. No matter who they were. Your daydreams and musings aside, you tried to focus on Isaac’s voice as he spoke in your ear, recounting to you in English all of the stories that Napoleon was painting before all of your eyes. His mind being a wealth of historical knowledge, he ensnared you with his storytelling, even when you had absolutely no idea what he was saying, needing the help of your dear friend, Isaac Newton, to explain it all to you.

“I have a question, Napoleone!” One of the kids, Patrick, raised his hand excitedly and was basically hopping on his cute little butt, curiosity seemingly eating at the young boy. When Leon gave him a curt nod, Patrick giggled and asked. “Why do you call big sister, nunuche?” “Well, there’s a very simple answer to that question. I call her nunuche because she has absolutely no clue that she has stolen my heart.” He declared with a warm smile, his deep voice reflecting the same. As the conversation took a turn, Isaac clicked his tongue, grumbling something that you didn’t catch under his breath and walked away from the big circle that you had formed in the middle of the small town square. Some of the kids were giggling and others were making gag noises. Whatever Napoleon had said really changed the mood. With your eyebrows furrowed, it was a bit bizarre to see the physicist’s face suddenly turn red. Was he that irritated from the story Napoleon was telling the kids about Charlemagne? Now that Isaac was gone, you were left with no one to translate the ongoing discussion for you. Well, upon Napoleon’s instruction, whenever he was addressing the children directly and couldn’t directly translate to you, Isaac would have to step in for him and help you understand the different French expressions and words, especially the most common ones. But… what were they saying now? You did hear the word Nunuche but they were definitely not talking about you. Were they, though? Still, you didn’t want to leave, even if you were completely lost and oblivious to what was going on. You knew that Napoleon would explain it all to you later. “Does that mean that big sister is a thief?” Jacques asked. “Non, non.” He chuckled, shaking his head and sighing out his next words. “It means that I love her with all my heart.” “Is it like how I love my dog?” The little man inquired again. “I love mushrooms!” The youngest of them all, Carmen, chimed in with her own declaration. “Haha, we can all love different things. Love comes in many ways and we all feel it differently.” “How does it feel for you then, Napoleone?” Lea, who was sitting right by his side, inquired considerately, seemingly scrutinizing every word the Frenchman said. He couldn’t help but smile widely, admiring the smart glint in her eyes, the curiosity in her was nothing but meaningful and quite in place. Eyes that reminded of his beloved. You. “Well…” He pondered for a few seconds, trying to find a simple way of putting his feelings into words. “I can’t say her name without smiling.” And just the thought of it did the same, in that very moment. “And sometimes, I think that I might just walk up to her and simply ask her. “Marry me. Now.”” He admitted, the corner of his eyes crinkling a tiny bit as he announced so. God, now you really wanted to know what they were talking about. To know the reason why Napoleon looked almost… giddy in that calm authoritative way of his. “Oh! Oh! That means you want to also have kids with her!” Jacques, ever the talkative one, stated confidently. “Haha, indeed. That is something I do wish to have with her.” As he turned to look at you, you could see his smile turn wistful, the way his eyes fell upon you held so much longing, a yearning for something that may not ever be fulfilled. “I promise, I’ll tell you about everything we just said.” He reassured you with that exact same smile, masking the fleeting sadness that overcame him by clearing his throat, demanding everyone’s attention and returning back to his storytelling. He would tell you all about that conversation he had with the kids. Maybe not on that day… but what he had to say was for later, or maybe never. Luckily for him, none of the children knew how to speak English or they would have blurted out the confession that Napoleon had yet to make. –♥– A/N: Consider this as a snippet from your matchup story with your Leon. I hope you enjoy this @delicateikemenmemes and yes, the title is a Taylor Swift song reference hehe  💜 And thank you @sweetlittlemouse for beta-ing my insecure ass. Tagging: @nafeary @kisara-16 Please feel free to leave some love in the comments or some feedback!💜 You can also check out my Masterlist !

[sasarahsunshine]

for that love prompt list, number 47 with moreid? "you've finally rendered me speechless."

kay I freaking love Moreid but I haven’t written for them yet so forgive me pls. Prompt list for Valentine’s Day.

Today was going to be a long day. Morgan could tell the moment he walked into the bullpen, spotting the large Starbucks sugar bomb that was on Reid’s desk. He arched an eyebrow as he deposited his bag at his own desk, peering at the younger agent, “Long night, Pretty Boy?”

Reid glanced up from the book in his lap, the circles under his eyes not as pronounced as normal. He wrinkled his nose in confusion, “No? I actually slept for about seven hours last night. I even had a chance to shower this morning.”

He did look well-rested. Which was odd. Morgan eyed the frappuccino, “Then what’s with the caffeinated milkshake?”

“Oh,” Reid grabbed at it, taking a sip from the straw, a small smile curling his lips when he tasted the pure chocolate goodness, “I just wanted to treat myself today.”

“Oh no,” JJ stated as she walked past, smirking at Reid, “When you treat yourself you get all hyper.”

He frowned at her, “I do not-”

“You do too, Pretty Boy,” Morgan teased, sitting at his own desk, “You start talking a million miles a minute. If we don’t get a case today then you’re going to be bouncing off the walls in here.”

Reid tried to look offended, his brows knitted together, “I do not. Just for that, I won’t talk at all today.”

Morgan swiveled in his chair, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “Oh really? Wanna bet?”

The moment he said it, Reid started to instantly regret this decision. But he wouldn’t back down now. He only nodded, taking his vow of silence to heart. Morgan chuckled, “Alright, game on Reid. If you don’t talk throughout the whole day then I’ll pay for drinks tonight. If you break under pressure then you buy. Deal?”

He watched as Reid opened his mouth to argue against the deal, but then closed it. Morgan knew he wouldn’t want to go out for drinks, but it was too late to back out now. The genius had a point to make, after all. And he looked frustrated already, giving a curt nod. Morgan chuckled again, “It hasn’t even been a minute and you almost broke. Good luck lasting all day.”

Reid angrily sucked at his frappuccino, looking back down to his book. He wouldn’t lose.

---

Around two hours later Reid was almost vibrating in his seat. Morgan watched as the younger man’s hands twitched as he bounced his pen against his desk, his bottom lip sucked between his teeth. He was trying oh so hard to concentrate on the files before him, but it was proving difficult.

It was probably worse since Morgan was talking so loudly about how whatever he could think of, dragging Emily into the bet. The two of them were discussing almost everything and anything, throwing out inaccurate facts and unbelievable opinions, trying to get a rise out of Reid.

But he held strong. Or, as far as Morgan could see, he was trying to. The twitch of his lip, the tensing of his jaw, the way his foot bounced under his desk; Morgan knew he would crack soon. 

“How are you holding up, Reid?” He taunted, looking the younger man up and down. Reid shot him a dirty look before going back to his work. Emily snickered, rolling her eyes, “This is kind of cheating, Morgan,” she pointed out, “Trying to push his buttons shouldn’t be allowed.”

“We didn’t agree to any rules,” Morgan shrugged, “So I can push his buttons as much as I want. Apparently talking about how Star Wars is far superior to Star Trek isn’t enough to make him angry though.”

“Oh he’s angry,” she countered, pointing towards Reid, “His face is all red.”

Morgan chuckled. Rossi walked past them, eyeing the two, “Leave the kid alone. Shouldn’t you be working on something?” Emily hopped off of Morgan's desk and hurried towards her own, “Maybe.” Rossi rolled his eyes, the smallest smile on his lips, as he went back towards his office. Reid shot him a grateful look. 

But Morgan wasn’t done. He needed to find the right something that would get under Reid’s skin, make him talk. 

He’d think about it while he tried to get some work done. 

---

It was nearing the end of the workday and Reid still hadn’t spoken! How? Morgan was getting frustrated. He was sure he’d have the little genius talking before noon at least. Reid was always talking, about everything, all the time! Especially when he had sugar and caffeine coursing through his veins. 

However, Morgan had probably talked more than Reid ever had at this point. Just trying to get a rise out of Reid caused him to yap all day long. It was tiring. How did the kid do it?

Emily and JJ had gone with Garcia for something to eat about 20 minutes ago, leaving Morgan and Reid alone in the bullpen. Morgan was spinning in his chair, a pen between his hands, constantly clicking it, talking about nothing in particular, “Been working on a new project. Bought a house close to the outside of town, so there’s a pretty view of the mountains that way. The whole thing is a disaster, so I’m expecting it to take a while to fix. Longer if we end up on a case sometime this week. I gotta buy some paint tomorrow for the kitchen.” He peered at Reid to see if he was paying attention. It didn’t look like it. 

He frowned, “Are you even listening to me?”

Reid peeked up at him, peering through his lashes and messy brown hair. He made a face but didn’t reply. Because, the vow of silence. Of course. 

Morgan huffed, standing and walking over to him. He sat on Reid’s desk, turning the kid’s chair so he was forced to look at him. Reid exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked irritated. 

Morgan arched an eyebrow, smirking down at him, “I’m going to get you to talk before the end of the day, kid. I just don’t know how yet.” He had to lean closer to study Reid’s expression. When he did, he noticed the flush growing over the other man’s cheeks and nose. He looked so cute like that, all rosy and flustered at Morgan’s closeness. 

Morgan grinned, lowering his voice, “You like me being this close to you, Pretty Boy?” 

Reid looked away, huffing. He held himself tighter. 

Morgan put his finger under Reid's chin, forcing him to look him in the eyes. He smiled softly, those big brown eyes shimmering with curiosity and embarrassment, “Would you like it if I kissed you right now?”

Reid gaped at him, yanking himself backward so suddenly that his chair tipped over and he ended up on the floor. Morgan jumped to his feet, “Oh shit, kid! I was kidding! I was kidding- Shit! Are you okay?” He reached down and grabbed Reid’s hand, pulling him standing. He didn’t get a chance to check him over, because Reid’s mouth was on his. 

Blinking in surprise, he froze. The kiss didn’t last long (though his mind suddenly wished it had), and soon he was standing there shell-shocked, staring at the bright red kid who stood before him. He swallowed after a moment, stammering for something to say. He couldn’t think of anything. His brain had short-circuited. 

A solid minute had to have passed before Reid glanced at his watch, then up at Morgan, “Time’s up. I can talk now. You’re buying drinks tonight.”

Morgan gaped at him, blinking again, “I-what?”

“You heard me,” Reid said as he started gathering his things, organizing his desk how he liked it. Morgan furrowed his brows, “You don’t want to talk about... what just happened?”

Reid smirked. Sassy little fucker. “We can talk over drinks?”

Morgan managed a smirk of his own, “Oh, I see how it is. If you wanted to take me on a date you could have asked.”

Reid shrugged, peering up at Morgan, “I couldn’t. You’ve finally rendered me speechless for an entire day. So, are you driving?”

Morgan laughed, his face still warm and flushed, his hands feeling tingly, and his stomach full of butterflies. Today was a long day, but it was all worth it. 

[socialwriter]

Good for you

Gif by @sci-fi​

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Requested by anon:  May i send a JJ Maybank x reader request!! with her confessing she loves him and he rejects but then slowly falls inlove with her after a while and its all a tad angsty with jealousy and fluff at the end please!!

TW: Cursing, sadness, underage drinking

1.4k+ words

A/n: hope you enjoy, I tweaked the request slightly, hope you don’t mind <33

“I’m in love with you JJ.” 

Those 6 words you had been terrified to speak all this time came tumbling out of your mouth, but now you wished that they hadn’t. In your head, your fantasies, JJ would repeat the words back to you. He would sweep you off your feet, dip you, and press a passionate kiss against your lips. He would love you back. No fantasy of yours involved a look of pity or a nervous chuckle from JJ. 

“Listen, y/n, I’m sorry but I just don’t feel that way about you. You’re a great friend, but that’s really it.”

You felt like he had ripped your heart right out of your chest and stomped all over it. You could feel the tears in your eyes that threatened to spill, but it wasn’t until John B walked into the room that you ran off, not wanting two people you were close to to see you so emotional. You hopped in your car and drove all the way home, tears streaming down your face the entire time. 

“What was that all about?” John B questioned his best friend, who had a guilty look on his face. “Ah shit man, what did you do?”

“I told her that I didn’t love her.”

“But JJ-”

Said blond held up his hand, the look on his face saying ‘don’t push it’. “I know man, I just couldn’t.” 

The problem was JJ Maybank did have a little crush on Y/n L/n. He did have feelings for her. But she deserved more than a little crush or feelings. She deserved passion, romance, and all the things that he knew he didn’t have to give her.

----

You hadn’t seen the light of day in almost a week now, wallowing in your own self-pity after having been humiliated for having feelings for a friend. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.” Kie, your best friend, told you, trying to console your broken heart and bruised ego. 

“You weren’t there, Kiara, it was mortifying. He looked at me with so much pity, like I was a stray dog on the streets begging for food that he didn’t have. I don’t think I can face him ever again.” You moved to hide under the covers, hoping that they’ll somehow shield you from the embarrassment that you’re feeling. They don’t.

“Hun, JJ is just a stupid boy. If he can’t see what a smoke bomb you are, that’s his loss. There will be other guys, guys better than JJ and better for you than JJ. Just give it time and you’ll forget all about this. Just a blip in your life.” Kie peels the covers off your body, eliciting a whine from you. “No whining, you need to get up and get yourself out there.”

“The only way that's happening is with alcohol in my system.” You quip, pulling your knees up to your chest so that you’re in a fetal position.

“Well lucky for you there’s a kegger at the boneyard tonight.”

“...no”

“Aw come on Y/n, you said yourself it's what you need.”

You huff, shaking your head at her. “I do not need to see JJ with his arm around some touron girl, tipsy at best. No ma’am, not today.”

Kie sighs, pulling you up into a sitting position. “Who says that it has to happen like that? What if you’re a little tipsy, with your arm around some touron, the name Maybank not even on your mind?”

You raise a brow, slowly nodding at Kie. “I like the way you’re talking, continue.”

“We’re gonna make JJ regret ever rejecting you, y/n, cuz you sure as heck are a whole lot to lose.”

---

JJ’s condition the past week had not been much better than yours. Sleeping all day, smoking to pass the time, and not going outside once, he was miserable. The only reason he was at this kegger in the first place was because John B and Pope had practically dragged him out of the house, going on and on about how their summer days were limited, and you only live once and blah blah blah. JJ didn’t really care. He moped about the entire kegger, his typical flirting nature forgotten. That is until he saw you. 

Instead of the typical jeans and a t-shirt you usually donned to these parties, you wore a mini skirt and a tight crop top, showing off more to the boys around you than you typically would have. You clearly had gone all out for this party, and JJ didn’t know what for. Whatever the reasoning, he liked the change of pace, and it just made him regret rejecting you even more. You both made eye contact, causing you to send him a tight lipped smile and a curt nod before walking off into the crowd, out of JJ field of vision. Man, why was he so stupid?

---

About an hour had passed since you’d arrived at the kegger with Kie, and you had found a touron you found particularly cute to flirt with for the majority of that time. You couldn’t remember his name, but you didn’t really need to. He was nothing more than a distraction, a rebound, someone to have a good time with. Right when you lean up to kiss him, however, the two of you are interrupted by someone clearing their throat. JJ. 

“Can I help you, Maybank?” You question, you voice laced with venom that causes JJ to flinch slightly. 

“Yea, I um..” JJ trails off, realizing that he actually hadn’t come up with an excuse to come and talk to you when he saw you getting a little too close to the guy you were standing next to. 

“Look bro, we’re just trying to have a good time, back off.” The touron tells JJ, pulling you into his side. JJ clenches his fists at that, and you can tell that this is not going to end well.

“Can I not talk to my friend, bro?” JJ spits back, eyeing the touron up and down.

“I think its clear to see we’re in the middle of something so back off.”

Before the situation can escalate any further you step in between the two boys, holding up your hands. “Ok calm down everyone, I’m going to go talk to JJ for a minute and I’ll be right back…” You trail off, not remembering the tourons name.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, stomping off to find some other girl who actually would care about him. You groan, crossing your arms before glaring at JJ. “What do you want?”

“I’m sorry.” JJ mumbles, staring at the floor. You scoff, fed up with him pitying you.

“I don’t need this. I have feelings for you, yes. It's a normal part of life. I’ll get over them, like I always do. But I sure as hell don’t need you pity because I told y-” You’re cut off by JJ smashing his lips into yours, moving his hands up to cup your face. It takes you a few moments to realize what's happening, but when you do you shove him back, leaving JJ with a hurt expression on his face. 

“I don’t want your pity kiss Maybank.”

JJ sighs, running a frustrated hand through his hair, trying to think of the right words to say. He’d never been good with expressing his emotions, always having them bottled up inside, but if he didn’t tell you how he felt, he would lose you forever. “I love you. I’m in love with you, y/n. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what love is supposed to feel like. I don’t know how to talk about all the little things in my head. The only thing I do know in all of this is you. How you bite your lip when you’re nervous. How you snort while you laugh when you think a joke is really funny. How you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I know I’m not good enough for you. I know that. But if you’ll have me, I’d like to try and be good for you.”

You’re left speechless at JJ’s little speech, mouth left slightly ajar. “You really mean that J?” You murmur, unsure if he’d heard you until he takes a step towards you, cupping your cheeks once more. 

“Course I do.” JJ whispered, resting his forehead against yours.

“Well good, cuz I’d like to try and be good for you too J.”

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[a-fluffer-nutter]

Royal Portraits

A/N - Hey all, here is a Frozen fic. Just a cute thing with Anna and Elsa being dorks. Please enjoy the star wars reference. 

Word Count: 865

           “It’s over now, Elsa” Their quills clashed as Anna hopped onto the desk. Standing tall above her sister, she held her quill out, pointing it to Elsa’s throat, only for it to be blocked with Elsa’s own quill. “I have the high ground!”

           “You underestimate my powers,” Elsa grinned, dropping her quill. She lunged at her little sister, arms closing around her legs and lifted her up. She spun in a circle, dropping her sister to the floor, and attacked with her fingers.

           “Cheater!” Anna squealed. She had dropped her quill in the confusion and was now unarmed, having nothing to block Elsa’s attack to her ribs. “Don’t!”

           A curt rapt at the door froze the sisters in their tracks. Elsa held her sister firm as the door opened, a pair of spectacled eyes narrowed at the sight of the two disheveled and wide-eyed sisters. Clearing his throat to shake off the awkwardness of the scene before him, the short man pulled out a wrinkled note from his front pocket.

           “Queen Elsa and Princess Anna are to be in the foyer at noon to have their royal paintings updated. Must come wearing their best dresses. Thank you.”

           The royal aid gave a tight bow and turned away quickly, accidentally slamming the door behind him. He heard the two women giggle as he left, an embarrassed blush rising to his pale face into his fading hairline as he scrambled off.

             “You two must hold still during the duration of the painting,” A thin man with an upturned nose announced, wiping a bit of red paint from beneath his left eye. While the royal painted was used to having paint coating his skin by accident, he was definitely unprepared for the scream of terror Anna let out once she caught sight of him.

           “Murderer!” Anna screamed as she pointed at him as he was wiping clean his hands, that happened to be dripping with red.

           “That’s just paint, Anna,” Elsa nudged her sister, gesturing at the two pallets the shorter of the two painters was holding.

           “Oh,” Anna blushed, scratching the back of her neck. “Well, I’m still going to keep my eye on you, Wilbert!”

           “His name’s Albert, don’t you remember? Wilbert is his brother, there.”

           “How am I supposed to remember? It’s been over ten years!”

           “It’s our job to remember everyone’s name. Remember?”

           “Oh yeah. I forgot.”

           Albert and Wilbert were fortunate to get the sisters to sit down after about ten minutes of banter, Anna debating on how she wanted to sit and Elsa second guessing her outfit decision. The two painters insisted that she looked perfect, but she was indecisive on whether the snowflake choker matched her blue overcoat. Finally deciding it did in fact match, Elsa relaxed into her chair in front of Albert.

           “You get Albert,” Anna had said, “I’m still not convinced he’s who he says he is.”            

           Anna took up a similar pose to Elsa’s, despite saying she wanted to go with something more modern, like a leg sticking out above her head or a hand covering her eye or something like that. Wilbert was thankful for her choice, fearing his inability to paint hands.

           “Hold still and smile,” Albert held his palette, ready to work. “Painting will begin…now.”

           “This is torture,” Anna said under her breath, staring straight ahead at Wilbert. An hour had gone by and both women were bored, especially Anna.

           “It will be over any minute, I’m sure of it,” Elsa replied through her teeth, not wanting to contort her face any. “Just hang in there.”

           “Like, how did we do this when we were kids? I feel like I’m going to die,” Anna reached out and poked Elsa in the thigh, trying not to move her neck at all. She was bored, but she obviously didn’t want to move enough to warrant Wilbert taking longer on her picture.

           “Well, you better not,” Elsa forced her smile even harder, if that was even possible. Sure, she was suffering too, but Anna was being so dramatic. “I need someone to quill fight later tonight.”

           “Oh!” Anna let out, loud enough that Wilbert groaned and glared. Ignoring him, she reached her hand into her dress pocket, one that she stitched herself, and withdrew one of the quills from earlier. “We don’t have to wait ‘til later!”

           “Get that away from me,” Elsa tried not to squirm too much in her seat, not wanting to make the potential killer…I mean painter, mad.

           “You scared,” Anna teased, looking over at her sister, waving the feather near Elsa’s face.

           “Ladies,” Albert grumbled, snapping the sisters back into their original positions.

           “I’m going to get you once we’re done,” Anna muttered, shooting Elsa an evil look. Elsa never saw this, thanks to Wilbert clearing his throat, scaring Anna back into her pose.

           “Not if I get you first,” Elsa let out a short giggle and the two women waited, plotting their next move in their heads as they sat.

 *Spoiler alert*

           Elsa’s painting was quicker to paint, allowing her to attack Anna the instant Anna’s painting had finished. Anna, convinced Elsa was cheating, sought revenge for the next few days.