#and the way it winds up one more time as po realizes what happened to his mom….

[perenlop]

im not as invested in the kfp franchise as other people are, i didnt even see this movie til recently in the past year, but this is probably one of the best film scores for a specific scene that ive heard tbh.

[stardust-goddess]

The Dress

Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: Deciding to go out of your comfort zone you buy a dress you normally wouldn’t buy. When a conversation breaks your confidence Dean comforts you.

A/N: So this is something that actually happened to me and I wish I had Dean to comfort me through it at the time. Thank you to everyone who’s been enjoying my work so far, I’m still learning and navigating tumblr, but I’m excited to share some more of my ideas with you all! Enjoy and let me know what you think💕

Warnings: (I realized I should probably be putting these on my stories) negative/insecure thoughts, body image issues, self hate, cursing, some fluff and comfort, implied/mentions of smut

You were practically giddy as you drove closer and closer to the bunker. You had stopped into town earlier to check your PO Box that you shared with the boys. Opening the box there wasn’t anything super important, but you got overly excited when you saw the package you had been waiting for sitting inside. You had been waiting for a while for it to come in the mail. As soon as you saw it you grabbed it and practically ran back to your car, hopping in to head back to the bunker.

You had ordered dresses, two to be exact. Your job has an upcoming party in a few months, and you were really excited to go. You were a new employee to your office, and had only been there for a few months. You loved your job and was happy working for the first time in a long time. You felt more confident and had a strong feeling of belonging and appreciation with all your coworkers. When your boss announced the upcoming party, you felt this was a great opportunity to showcase those feelings. New job, new you and you wanted your dress to reflect that.

Finally reaching the bunker, you pulled in and parked next to the Impala. You noticed Baby’s hood was propped open, Dean bent underneath it but then standing up straight to watch you pull in. Throwing you a smile his bright green eyes locked on you. He looked so good today. He was in jeans and a tight black tee, showing off his muscles that always made you go weak in the knees. His usual flannel discarded while he worked on Baby. Shutting the car off you climbed out, remembering to grab your package from the passenger seat. Shutting the car door you made your way over to join Dean in front of the impalas open hood.

Slinging an arm around your waist Dean pulled you in close “Hey Baby.” he said with a grin pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“Hi Honey.” you said burrowing yourself a little deeper into his embrace. Moving back a little bit Dean settled on the edge of Baby, guiding you to stand between his legs by the belt loops of your jeans. Hands linking together at the small of your back. Dropping your package to the floor, you wind your arms around his shoulders.

“How’s Baby coming along.” you said nodding your head towards his beloved car. “Good so far she’s runnin’ strong.” he said looking fondly at the impala for a minute before turning his attention back to you. “How was the ride to town?”

Your face lit up in excitement as you unwrapped one of your arms from Dean, and bent down to grab your discarded package from the floor “My dresses finally came!” You practically squealed showing him the bundle.

Dean’s face softened as he took in your form. You were practically buzzing, with a big smile on your beautiful face. You were so adorable. He knew all about your upcoming party. His heart warmed at how happy you were. He was fully supportive of you working at your office. Anything that kept you safe and out of danger was a win in his book. He remembered sitting with you not that long ago while you scrolled through the computer, looking for the right dress. He tried to sneak a peek at what you were buying, but you evaded him easily wanting it to be a surprise.

Running a hand across your hip, Dean decided to get playful “Did you? Are you going to model for me?” Reaching up he brushed his lips across the shell of your ear “Maybe I’ll get to take them off of you too” he whispered voice low and gravelly, pressing a kiss to the hollow of your ear. Your face flushed and you felt that warmth travel all the way through your body. Thighs involuntarily rubbing together. He knew exactly what to say to get you all worked up. “Dean” you whined at his teasing. Dresses? What dresses?

Bringing his hand up to cup your face he pressed another kiss to your lips. Thumb running across your cheek. “I know Baby, I just love this blush.” leaning back he released you from his hold.

“Go on, try them. We’ll have plenty of time to play later.” knowing you were eager to try them on. Warmth spreading to your core, you clutched the package close to your chest, pouting at his withdrawal “Promise?” Kissing your pout away Dean grinned. “Absolutely Baby”

with a light pat to your bottom Dean sent you out of the garage. Taking a deep breath, you take a minute to calm your racing heart from Dean’s heated words. You couldn’t wait for later.

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

In your shared bedroom, you finally open your package. Pulling the dresses out, you lay them out across the bed and admired them. Grabbing the first one you shed your clothes and put it on. Looking in the mirror you analyzed your body. It was a very pretty dress. A bright red color made of lace. It had short sleeves and an A-line skirt that went past the knees, giving it a classic look. This dress was something you would normally wear, safe and predictable. You picked it partially out of habit and as a back up just in case you didn’t find anything else. You looked nice, but you wanted something different.

Grabbing the second dress you removed the first to put it on. This dress was a style you’d never worn before. You never had the confidence to until now, but your want to reflect your new found happiness made you choose it. Turning back to the mirror you took in your appearance. It was a deep wine colored dress. Tight to the body and accentuating your curves. The sleeves were long with a modest v-neck, and ruching down the whole front. This one was shorter, stopping just above your knees. It was perfect. You loved it and It was exactly what you wanted. You thought you looked amazing and felt amazing too. You’re confidence spiking even higher.

Admiring yourself a few more minutes you decided to call your mom. She knew about the party as well and you wanted to show her the dress you picked out. Pulling out your phone you find your moms contact and start a video call. The call quickly connects and you see your moms smiling face

“Y/N! It’s so good to hear from you! You’re brother is here too.” the screen pans over to your brother who gives a smile and a wave. After a few minutes of pleasantries and catching up, you finally get to the reason of the call.

“Mom I wanted to show you the dress I picked out for that party at work. I love it so much!”

Propping your phone up you step back so she can see you in full view. “What do you think?”

Your mom is silent for a minute, a slight frown on her face as she takes you in. “It looks nice, but are you sure you want to wear something like that?”

“What do you mean?” Your brows furrow in confusion “is there something wrong with it?”

Your brother speaks up from behind your mom “Honestly, it doesn’t look good.” you felt your heart plummet to your stomach, throat tight with emotion. Your brother continues “Really like just the style in general is so bad, it’s really not flattering at all.”

Trying to keep your composure, you swallow hard as tears fill your eyes ready to spill over. “I thought it was great. I wanted to try something new, be more bold and confident.”

Noticing the emotions playing across your face, your brother tries to back pedal “That dress wouldn’t look good on anybody, it was just poorly designed. Do you have time to find something else?”

Grabbing the first dress you hold it up to show them. “I bought this one too but I always wear this type of dress”

Finally speaking up your mom lights up “Oh I love that one, it’s perfect for you and it’ll cover up the problem areas.”

Hearing enough you quickly reply “Thanks guys, I’ll talk to you again soon.” Ending the phone call you let the tears escape and roll down your cheeks.

You were so stupid. How could you think that this dress would look good? You’re brother was wrong. Plenty of other women could wear this dress, but you weren’t one of them. You clearly weren’t confident enough or attractive enough to pull something like this off. You were just plain, ugly, boring you. You sit on the edge of the bed, tears still falling. You wrap your arms around yourself like armor, trying to control your breathing as your tears turn into full sobs.

Your thoughts starting to spiral, you think of Dean and cry even harder. You don’t deserve to be with him. How could he possibly love someone like you? When he could have any gorgeous woman on his arm. You were pathetic. Ugly and broken and definitely way out of his league for someone who was as gorgeous as he was. Standing up abruptly you take the dress off and throw it to the ground. You grabbed your pajamas, an oversized t-shirt and shorts and put them on before making your way back to the bed. Crawling under the covers you grab your pillow and clutch it to your chest sobbing, wishing you could be someone else.

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

Walking through the halls of the bunker, Dean search’s for you. It had been a while since he saw you in the garage. He didn’t think it would take long to try your dresses on, and he thought you might’ve came back when you were finished. After searching through the main rooms and asking Sam if he’d seen you at all which he hadn’t, he made his way towards your shared bedroom. As he gets closer he notices the door is shut. We’re you still trying things on? He then hears noise on the other side of the door, muffled sobs that make his chest tighten in slight panic. Opening the door he sees you. Curled up under the covers of the bed, pillow clutched to your chest, and the most heart wrenching sobs coming out of your mouth. What the hell happened? You were so happy before.

Dean was at your side in seconds. Kneeling down in front of you and running a hand along your hair “Baby what’s going on? What happened?” You don’t respond, sobbing and coughing as you lose your breath. Dean looks over you quickly. After not finding anything physically wrong with you, he relaxes slightly and tries to calm you down. Pulling the pillow away from you, Dean fills the empty space. Guiding your head into the crook of his neck. His hand running through your hair while the other slips into you shirt, pressing against the small of your back and gently rubbing. “Shhh baby girl it’s ok, you’re ok. Can you try and take a deep breath for me?” Cuddling closer into Dean, you soak in his warmth. With the smell of his cologne and his strong heartbeat invading you’re senses, you take a small shuddering breath. “That’s it Baby nice and easy, deep breaths in and out. You can do it.”

Dean continues whispering sweet words to you and helping you breath until you finally start to calm down. Pulling back slightly Dean presses a kiss to your forehead, taking his hand out of your hair to bring it to your cheek. Wiping the tears away with his thumb. “There’s my girl, What happened Baby? Who’s ass do I have to kick?” You let out a small watery giggle before hiding your face away, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “It’s stupid, I shouldn’t have gotten so upset” you reply, voice and throat scratchy from your crying.

“It’s not stupid, you know you can tell me anything” mustering up the courage you sit up a little, looking into Dean’s gorgeous green eyes. Dean follows you resting against the headboard and securing you at his side. Your head rests on his shoulder grabbing his hand and twining your fingers together. Deans other hand is still on your back warm and comforting, rubbing up and down in long strokes.

“I tried on the dresses and one of them was exactly what I wanted. I loved it and felt amazing in it. I called my mom to show her and my brother was with her too. I showed them the dress and they didn’t like it. They thought it wasn’t right for me, that it was completely unflattering and did nothing to hide all the problems I have on my body.”

Dean saw red. How could your family do that to you? Problems on your body? You were absolutely stunning! Trying to reign in his anger you continued with your story.

“I feel so stupid they were clearly right, I’m not confident enough or pretty enough to wear something like that. I don’t know why I even bothered in the first place. You deserve someone way better not a loser like me.” You look down in your lap, upset and ashamed.

Tilting your head up, Dean places a chaste kiss to your lips rubbing his thumb along your jaw as he speaks

“First of all you aren’t a loser and you’re not stupid. You’re so amazing. Smart, funny, and drop dead gorgeous. I don’t want you thinking for another second that you don’t deserve me because you do. And second, your body? It’s perfect Baby. You drive me crazy with these gorgeous curves. For me no other woman compares to you.”

You heart melts at his sweet words. You loved this man so much. Looking into his eyes which showed nothing but genuine love and honesty, you felt a little lighter. Dean loved you for you and that’s all you ever needed. Throwing your arms around his neck in a tight hug you cuddle into him.

“I love you, I love you so much”

“I love you too baby girl, but now I need you to do something for me”

Untangling from your embrace Dean stands up, leaving you confused as you watch his movements. Crossing the room Dean reaches down and grabs your dress from the floor. You had almost forgotten that you threw it there. Walking back over to you he places it in your lap

“Will you put this on for me?”

“I don’t know Dean, I don’t think it’s going to look good” you replied looking down at the dress in your lap, some self doubt still lingering. Reaching for you, Dean tilts your chin up. “It will I promise, do you trust me?” Of course you did, you always would. Giving him an affirmative nod you stand, turning your back to him. You quickly shed your pajamas and pull the dress on. Adjusting it so it sits right, you take a moment not quite ready for his reaction. ‘It’s ok’ you tell yourself ‘you can do this’

Steeling yourself you turn around, looking Dean in the eye. His breath hitches once you’re facing him “Fuck, baby you look gorgeous” eyes raking over your form. The dress fit to you like a second skin, accentuating all of your curves that Dean loved so much. He couldn’t resist stepping closer, hand reaching out to your hip to bring you into him.

“You really think so?” You reply wrapping yourself around Dean, feeling your body warm at his words and his touch. Dean presses a kiss to your lips, then your cheek, working his way down your jaw and your neck before burrowing into the spot we’re your neck and shoulder meets. Hand gliding along your hip feeling the smooth material of the dress. “I think it’s time to take this off now Baby, gotta show you just how much I love this body, dress or no dress.”

Reaching down, Dean grabbed the hem of your dress slowly dragging it up and leaving a fiery trail along the skin of your thighs before stopping back at your hips. Guiding you back to the bed and leaving hot kisses along your neck, the dress soon came all the way off and Dean spent the rest of the night showing you just how beautiful you really were.

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 265. brb x oc

a/n: :3c (comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: none uwu

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

1/

/210/211/212/213/214/215/216/217/218/219/220/221/222/223/224

/225/226/227/228/229/230/231/232/233/234/235/236/237/238

/239/240/241/242/243/244/245/246/247/248/249/250/251/252

/253/254/255/256/257/258/259/260/261/262/263/264

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! )

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @novastories @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix @lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2

@emilybradshaw @louisahale @leobabbyyy @booklover2sblog @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12

@caitsymichelle13 @becks-things @caatheeriinee07 @fanboyswhore9 @jesfreedark @katiemcrae @lilmonstrjedi @hobiismyhopeu @teacupsandtopgun @insominac23 @gh0stsgoodgirl @mygyn @chavivaelisheva @kmc1989 @enchantingharmonyalpaca

-

“What do you mean you saw him?”

“I– can we discuss this a bit further from the entrance that leads to the outside,”Rooster motions to the door,exasperated “Nikki is going to get a cold draft of wind if we stay here too long.”

Mav parted his lips, then frowned, “Rooster,I– fine.”, realizing that the conversation needed a bit more privacy he gestured to the back as he locked the door. He waited for  Rooster to pick Nicole up and then they all walked away.

“Sorry about the light.” he says, the lightbulb flickered into life and he dared a look towards his nephew, who just looked unimpressed while holding Nicole tight against his chest, “I haven’t had the time to fix it,okay?”

“I’m not judging, Mav."

Mav took a deep breath, his expression more serious now. "Your dad always commented on how I never fixed the lightbulbs and how much I’d live in the stone age if I so wanted.” the voice was quiet and all that was heard was the crickets on the outside.

Rooster shifted Nicole in his arms, clearing his throat, making sure she was comfortable before he began to recount the story once more. He made it short, but tried to get the most important parts out quickly.

Mav listened in silence, his eyes fixed on Rooster as he spoke, one of his hands coming up to cover his mouth. There was a mix of skepticism and curiosity in his gaze and Rooster didn’t know what was leaning heavier. It was clear that he was trying to process the surreal nature of the encounter.

Honestly, so was he.

As Rooster finished his account, Mav finally spoke, his voice quiet. "So, you're saying you had a...vision– no, you saw Goose. It felt real,yeah?"

Rooster nodded, his gaze steady. "It wasn't a dream or a hallucination. It felt like he was really there…I... It's hard to explain, but it was real." he licks his lips, “And it wasn’t the first time either, this happened a few weeks ago…I even went to see Bea’s aunt Matha about it.”

“Is she the witch lady?” he asks, “The one with the winery and the hotel?”

“Yep, the one.”

"I've met her at your wedding. She kept saying that me and Penny were…in a knot together.."

Rooster nodded with his lips pursed. "Yeah, she's... different. She listened to my experience and suggested that my father might be trying to communicate with me from the other side."

Mav's expression remained pensive, his gaze turning distant as he contemplated the possibility. "...I wouldn't put it past him to find a way to reach out to you, especially if he thought you needed guidance."

Rooster frowns, clicking his tongue. "Then why hasn’t he before?" he didn’t want to sound bitter, he really didn’t, but if there was something he desired more than anything was seeing his father again, “When I was a kid? Why now?”

Mav ran a hand through his hair, his gaze still distant as he pondered Rooster's question. "It's hard to say, Brad. Sometimes, these things happen when the time is right or when there's a pressing need. Your father might have been waiting for the right moment to reach out, or he might feel that you need his guidance more now."

Rooster sighed, not saying anything and letting Nicole babble happily on his lap, then he looked to the side in thought. feeling a mixture of emotions swirling within him. "I just wish I had the chance to talk to him, to ask him so many things, to tell him about my life, about Beatrice, about Nicole and the twins, about my career."

Mav chuckles,almost sadly, tapping his fingers on the table and inhaling softly. "Perhaps this is his way of letting you know that he's still watching over you."

"Yeah, I hope so. I just don't want to misinterpret the message he's trying to send." Rooster says, brushing his hand on Nicole’s longer hair, long enough they could give her tiny braids if they so desired, “I don’t think…my mom never said anything if she had anything of the sort happen to her,at least she never told me.”

Mav's eyes softened as he listened to Rooster's words. The absence of Goose had left a void in a lot of lives, and the idea of any form of communication, even from beyond, was a source of comfort he couldn’t deny would be very welcome.

Mav leaned in, his voice quiet. "Your mother, if this happened to her, she wouldn’t tell people. Carole was very strong and she had you to take care of, the last thing she needed would be people saying she was…seeing things or hallucinating. And it’d be worse when she got sick."

Rooster sighs,rubbing his eyes with his fingers and leaning back on his chair, the movement made Nicole fall back on his chest with a giggle, completely unaware of the conversation going on. "Yeah, you're right, Mav." Rooster admitted,”... I miss her so much."

Mav's gaze softened as he heard the longing in Rooster's voice. Moments like these remind him of little Brad so much, his hair much blonder and eyes brighter…but still Brad. "I know, Brad," Mav said, his voice quiet. "Your mother was a remarkable woman. No wonder she made Goose shut up the right times."

Rooster nodded in agreement, a wistful smile crossing his face. "She was incredible. Even when she was going through so much…” he pauses, memories of his mother’s illness weren’t good right now, so he just shook his head and looked back at Mav, “So I’m not going crazy,right? Because I saw my dad’s ghost and such?”

Mav shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. "You're not going crazy, Brad. It’s…surprising, but it sounds like Goose to just show up like that."

Rooster let out a relieved sigh,playing with Nicole’s tiny hands as she looked up at him with bright green eyes. "Thank you, Mav. I needed to hear that. It's just so...uh…odd."

Mav patted Rooster's shoulder. "I understand, Brad. It's a lot to take in,but could be worse,hm? Now" he stands up, “You up for some beer? Or are you going to let that one slide because you are taking Nikki home?”

Rooster considered the offer of a beer, glancing down at Nicole in his arms. She was peacefully playing with her toys, and the temptation of a cold beer after the intense conversation was hard to resist... Still, he knew he couldn't.

"Thanks, Mav, but I think I'll have to pass on the beer this time," Rooster said, his gaze lingering on Nicole's innocent face. "I should get her back home and ready for bed."

“You are not leaving already,right?”

“Well-”

“No,no,I haven’t seen my grand-niece in three weeks and now you wanna leave?” Mav tutted, marching to his fridge and grabbing the cold bottle from it, “No,no, it’s still early and Bea’s shift on the bar ends around ten thirty. You are staying.”

"Alright, Mav, I'll stay for a little while longer. But just no beer, and then I really need to get Nicole home."

Mav raised an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face. "We'll see about that." he waves his hand, “But nah,I’m joking, don’t worry,I wouldn’t put any of you in danger.” he says as he settles back down, “Let’s change the subject,” as hard as it was, considering it was really…well, it still made both of them remember the subject, “You are being deployed after your birthday.’

“Yep.”

“How do you feel?”

Rooster shrugged, smiling when Nicole handed him one of her toys, “I was a bit annoyed at first, seeing that the twins will be home and I won’t. But…Bea said she’d keep me updated, besides it’s a three months long course. It’ll go by in a blink of an eye.”

 "I mean…Three months can be a long time for some, but it'll pass by quickly. And having Beatrice and the twins to look forward to when you return will make it all better." he hums, “I half expected you to be more annoyed.”

“I said I was.”

“No,” Mav cuts him softly, “I mean more annoyed. I know you Rooster and while you love and are great at what you do…I know how you can get. I know you miss Beatrice a lot when you are gone.” his nephew just huffed a soft laugh, avoiding his gaze, “You are a puppy dog,Brad. That girl got you good.”

"You're not wrong, Mav," Rooster admitted, scratching his head, "I do miss Bea a lot when I'm deployed.But I wouldn’t call myself a puppy dog." cue to his uncle tilting his head and giving him a look, one that was mirrored by his own daughter who just looked up at him with her brow, her tiny, almost translucent brow, up “Now you too Nikki, you are just a baby, you can’t judge your dad like that.”

Mav chuckled at Rooster's defensive response. "I'm just teasing, Brad. You know I love Bea, and I think it's wonderful how you two found each other. It’s just…well…it is painfully obvious, always was.”

“Okay.’

“I mean, heart eyes and everything, and that day I asked you about her at the beach? At the volleyball game? Kid,I knew.” he smirks, “I just knew she got you hook line and sinker. You followed her with your eyes like she was a snake charmer and you the snake.”

Rooster's blushed a bit,clearing his throat and dropping his eyes to Nicole’s relaxed form on his lap, “Mav." he begins, “Nikki is here, please.”

“What? She needs to know her dad is a complete fool for his wife.” he shrugs, “Nothing bad about it.”

He was right, he wasn’t embarrassed for Bea but he was…just embarrassed because everyone knew about his attraction so early on. He chuckles,shaking his head quietly, “You know what,” he begins, “One beer. Just one.”

“Atta boy,I knew you’d come around.”

-

“Penny I need three more pints and an orange soda for table five.” Beatrice says as she places the tray down on the counter, leg bouncing out of excitement and she couldn’t help but smile at her boss’ surprised face.

“You need to give us a break Bea,” Penny jokes, “You are getting orders left and right and you are able to do it really quickly.”

“I think the babies are helping her do it fast auntie!” Shells announces as she walks past the two, “The woman returned with a vengeance!”

Beatrice smiles more, still tapping her shoe on the floor and chewing her lower lip, “I missed this a lot Penny.” she says as her boss walks away to grab everything that was asked for, “I…I really missed the bar and I missed you guys so much. I can’t wait for Rooster to come back too but…you know, he likes staying with Nikki.”

Penny returned with the drinks, placing them on the tray as she gave the brunette a warm smile, understanding the emotions Beatrice was feeling. "We missed you too, Bea. It's been too quiet around here without you.” cue to Shells’ loud laughter from the back of the bar, “And I get it, Rooster is a great dad. It's wonderful to see you back at the bar, though. It’s not the same without you, me and the girls can handle it but,it’s always fun when the whole family is together.."

Beatrice blushed, picking the tray up and smiling shyly at her boss’ praise,  “Thank you,Penny,I’m so glad to be back. I know you,Shells and Jessie managed everything.”

Penny raised an eyebrow, supporting her weight on the counter with her other hand propped on her cocked hip, “Kiddo, believe me, these two can be a handful…but they did it. Jessie is getting a lot better dealing with folks and she can’t work too much because of college but it’s understandable.”

She laughs while adjusting the tray in her hands  "That's great to hear that they're holding down the fort. Jessie's balancing work and college, which isn’t easy,I remember how it was. And Shells, well, she's a force of nature, isn't she?"

Penny’s brow raised higher, “She’s a tornado, but she's a real gem, and she's great with the customers. And I’m not being biased because she’s my niece.” she taps the counter twice, “Anyway,I won’t keep you kiddo, go on, your customers wait for you.”

She nods,turning on her heel towards the chosen table, smiling as soon as she saw the group there: two guys and one girl. They were new, she hasn’t met any of them yet and she knew everyone from the bar. As she approached the table, Rooster’s Fanboys walked in and immediately saluted her. “Ma’am!”

Beatrice blinked, everyone in the bar was too busy to care about the salute but she was still…flustered, “Guys, oh my god.” she waved her hand for them to lower their arms, “You don’t have to salute me,I’m not in the Navy. Rooster is.”

“Sorry ma’am. Good to see you again,ma’am.”

“Thank you Faraday.” she smiles, placing the orders on the table, “You guys are sitting on the usual spot?”

“Yes,ma’am!” McAllister grins, “Are you going to serve us tonight?”

Beatrice chuckled as she glanced at McAllister, and nodded with a hand on her waist  "Well, since you asked so nicely, McAllister, I suppose I can be your server for the night. What can I get you guys? The usual?”

The group exchanged glances, and there was a moment of silent deliberation before Faraday, who was sitting at the head of the table, spoke up. "We'll have the usual,, ma'am."

Beatrice tilted her head "You got it. The usual it is. I'll be right back with your drinks."

The group she was serving just looked up at her, until the guy closest to her shoulder spoke, ‘Damn…those guys,are they always this rowdy?” 

Bea did a double take, making sure he was talking about the recruits and not someone else. “Oh, they aren’t rowdy, they are just over excited.” she smiles, “Do you guys want anything else?”

The guy then elbows his friend,  before focusing on Beatrice “Can I get your number,sweetheart?”

Beatrice maintained her friendly smile despite the slightly forward request. With a chuckle, she replied, wiggling her ring finger "I appreciate the offer, but I'm happily married, and my husband is a Navy pilot. So…"

The guy blinked in surprise, his confidence momentarily faltering. "Oh, uh, sorry. I didn't know." he licks his lips, “Is he here or something?”

Beatrice couldn't help but find the guy's surprise amusing. She knew that her wedding ring was a little hard to see in the dim lighting of the bar, but it was always a clear indicator of her marital status. "He's at home with our daughter." her smile is never wavering, “Now, anything else?”

The guy leaned back in his chair, looking disappointed and a bit embarrassed by what happened . "Well, since I can't have your number, how about you recommend another drink for me instead? Surprise me."

"Sure thing.How about an Old Fashioned?"

The guy considered her recommendation, a small smile playing on his lips. "Old Fashioned it is."

With a smile, Beatrice jotted down the order on her notepad and then slid them on her belt line. "Thank you. I'll be right back with your drinks. Enjoy your evening, and if you have any questions, feel free to ask."

As she walked back to the bar counter, Penny gave her a knowing look. "Someone's trying to charm you tonight, Bea?"

Beatrice laughed softly,  waving her hand. "Seems like it. He was a bit forward at first, but he backed off when he found out I'm married." she looked down at her notes, “Besides, if he doesn’t look like Rooster and if he’s not Rooster,I’d never be interested.”

‘Mhm.”

“Anyway, they asked for an Old Fashioned. Can you–” Penny was already doing it before Bea could finish her sentence. As she waits, she almost jumped when Faraday’s face appeared next to her.

“Jesus.”

“Ma’am.” he looked serious, “Was that guy bothering you,ma’am?”

Beatrice couldn't help but smile at Faraday's protective concern, it was really cute.

And a bit odd.

It was evident that the group of recruits held her in high regard, much like they did with Rooster. "Oh, no, he was just being a little forward at first, but he backed off when I mentioned I'm married. It's nothing to worry about."

Faraday nodded, though his expression still held a hint of skepticism, eyes squinting. "Alright, ma'am. If anyone gives you trouble, just let us know, and we'll take care of it."

“Aw,thank you, Faraday. You guys are always so considerate. I'll keep that in mind." she pats his shoulder, “You can go back to the table, don’t worry– and please don’t glare at the guy.”

Faraday nodded and flashed a small, hesitant smile. "Of course, ma'am. Just want to make sure you're safe."

It was heartwarming to see how they regarded her and looked out for her well-being. She gave Faraday's shoulder another reassuring pat. "You're all a bunch of gentlemen, Faraday. Thank you for looking out for me."

With that, she looked back at Penny who had just finished the drink and was placing it on her tray, “There you go.”

‘Thank you,Penny.”

‘Anytime.” her boss grins, but she looks at something over her shoulder, furrowing her brows, “Shells is coming over.” Beatrice looks back to see the blonde basically sidestepping everyone until she was at the counter, eyes wide and mouth parted.

Beatrice couldn’t even ask her what was happening before her friend grabbed her arm, placed the tray on the counter and then dragged Bea away from here. Penny just watched the scene with a sigh leaving her lips, picking Beatrice’s abandoned tray and taking it to the guys.

Once they were far, hidden inside the employee’s room, Beatrice could only stare at Shells with a frown ,’What?’ her friend peeks through the crack of the door, “Shells! What’s happening?”

“Girl,” she begins, “You’ll never believe who’s making her way over to the bar. You’ll hate it.” and Beatrice takes a while to identify those words. She slowly connects the dots in her brain, her expression now mirroring Shells’ but with a smidge of annoyance in it.

“No.”

“Yes, look.” she opens the door wider, so both women are peeking out when they see no one else but Miranda Halton, looking like a sore thumb in the middle of the bar, glancing around the area for a few minutes…as if she was looking for someone.

“Oh…no…”

“Oh yes,” Shells giggles gleefully, “Looks like tonight got even more interesting.”

[borrowedtimeandspace]

Maritime Metanoia

Behemoth, Pirates, Shipwreck

From this list of g/t prompts

AU: N/A; oneshot

Note: I wasn't expecting to kick off G/t July with this, as it 's a bit of a departure from my usual stories. Things happened in the d&d campaign I'm playing in, though, and this was inspired. I'm playing fast and loose with the prompts this year, and this mash-up is a perfect example!

~~~

I've never been particularly religious before today. Reckon a brush with death will do that to ya.

One moment, The Fortune Saber was sailing calmly across the open sea. The winds carried her swiftly to the northwest, not even burdened by all the treasure our crew had loaded at the last port.

Then the winds changed, tearing through the air in all directions. I had to flatten myself to the deck and cling to a railing just to avoid being blown clean overboard!

Before I could even think of standing, the formerly clear blue skies darkened and opened up. Raindrops fell with such intensity that it felt like we were being pelted by tiny stones. Maybe we were, but I could hardly see through the buckets and buckets of water coming down on all of us on deck.

And if that weren't enough, the once peaceful sea began to roil. The Saber rocked this way and that as towering waves crashed against the hull, which groaned miserably under the strain.

It all came at once. We never stood a chance at avoiding it.

Under the pelting rain and rumbling thunder, behind the roaring wind and waves, I heard the indistinct panicked shouting of the crew all around. I could even swear I heard their muffled cries below deck. Out of all of them, though, one voice cut through the air more powerfully than I'd ever heard it before.

Captain Ishara Tidesong managed to keep her feet planted firmly at the helm, one hand clinging to the wheel in a desperate attempt to avoid having her beloved ship capsize. Her other hand clung to something small, something she usually kept tucked close to her chest. 

I had seen it once before, when I initially joined her crew as an upstart young pirate. She was happy to show me the amulet, carved from driftwood with the image of a seashell in the center of a circle of waves. At certain angles, you could just make out the impression of a skull within the seashell.

Now that she held it aloft, shouting a plea for protection over the cacophony of the storm, even through the sheets of rain I could see it glowing. A bright green-blue light radiated from Captain Tidesong's clenched fist, shining stronger and stronger by the second.

It had never done that before. Not that I'd seen. I was so caught up in staring that I wasn't prepared for the next heave of the ship. 

My grip slipped just as the deck lurched so high that it was practically vertical.

The deck left my feet, and a harsh wall crashed over my head and consumed me.

Quiet. 

Pressure. 

Cold.

I breathed in, but there was no air. My sinuses filled instead with burning water, sending a jolt of awareness through my entire body. I reflexively exhaled to try and expel the water, only to realize that left me with precious little air in my lungs.

My hands clamped down over my mouth and nose, and my eyes shot open. They instantly stung in the seawater, but I needed to know how far I'd sunk, if I had any hope of making it back to the ship.

Barely any light could cut through the water's surface. Shadows shifted as far as I could see, indiscernible and ominous. All sense of direction was lost. I could still feel the ocean churning all around, disorienting me even further.

Then something touched me.

My limbs flailed, trying to propel me away from whatever it was, but it persisted. Something wide and flat pressed against me and carried me in whatever direction it chose, moving much too fast for me to evade it.

By the time it came to a stop, its surface began to glow. Not all over, just in spots seemingly around the edges of what little I could see. The faint bluish-green light gave enough contrast to the shadows to put my position in a dreadful perspective.

Jutting out from all around the surface that had moved me were five…not tentacles, they were too rigidly jointed. Not to mention they were the size of full grown men, if not larger, and ended in long, glowing spikes. 

My already freezing body shuddered with the thought that they looked rather like claws. They curled over my head, the thin membranous webbing between them cutting off any escape from their grasp.

Worse still was the realization that the little spots along the smooth surface weren't bright enough to provide the amount of light cast over me. Against every instinct, I turned to look behind me.

Even more lights glowing much more brightly outlined a monstrously large, strangely humanoid face. Dotted lines indicating cheekbones, jawline, forehead, all leading back to barrel-sized eyes that shone brighter than them all. Though there was no indication of pupil or iris with the light encompassing the entirety of the eyes, I could swear they were trained directly on me.

Or I would if I weren't distracted by the mouth, hovering above but closer to my level. There were no lips, only rows of teeth that stretched farther back toward the jaw than any humanoid creature I'd ever seen. Teeth that I'd liken to needles if they weren't the length of my arm at the shortest!

Sailors like to spin yarns of sea monsters. I've lived among them long enough to hear all sorts. Tales of kraken and leviathan were always quite fun to listen to, but clearly overblown and exaggerated to inflate the teller's ego even more than the ale usually had already.

Stories of something like this were fewer and far between, and anyone I'd heard tell them were not boisterous about it. They spoke of it almost in hushed tones, as though sharing their terrible secret would manifest it. These were tales of a gargantuan monster, large enough to tear apart entire ships with its bare hands as though they were nothing. Terrifying as that sounded, I'd always brushed them off as less than creative; kraken were told to be able to do all that and more, lack of hands notwithstanding. The only thing that seemed to make this ‘creature’ special was its appearance of a humanoid top half and an immense fish-like tail.

I used to chuckle to myself, the few times I heard supposed survivors of this sea-beast's wrath call it the Mer-Death.

Face to face with such a being, it was significantly less funny.

Its massive face angled upward, turning that radiant gaze away from me at last. I almost felt relieved, but it wasn't done with me yet. Once again I found myself flattened to its palm when it moved and carried me along. 

Then its claws unfurled just as it all came to a stop, allowing me to float away from its grasp from the momentum alone.

In the light of its gaze, I could make out familiar shadows in the water all around me. Human-like shapes of what could only be my crewmates, nearly a dozen of them! 

Before I could wonder if any of them were alive, the light grew bright again. I flinched back as best as I could in the water, finding the creature had very abruptly drawn close. A cloud of ink-black hair flowed behind it seemingly without end.

Those razor-sharp teeth parted slowly. This is it, I thought, we're as good as eaten!

It didn't advance. Instead, it almost seemed to sigh, and a fine cloud of bubbles rushed out from between all those teeth.

One bubble, the size of my fist, crashed into my face and forced my aching lungs to suck in a shocked gasp.

My lungs didn't fill with water. Or…they did, but I was…okay? I breathed out, then in and out again, thoroughly distracted from the fear that had gripped me moments ago. 

It quickly flooded back when I felt the water all around push me back, displaced from the creature's incredible movements.

The Mer-Death swam up and away from me and my crewmates and raised one clawed, webbed hand over its head toward the hulking shadow that could only be the Fortune Saber struggling to stay afloat. The other hand crossed in front of the boat-sized torso, and then swept back toward us, almost absentmindedly waving us off.

Without it even touching us, we were sent careening through the water as though caught in a powerful current. Being able to breathe didn't make the experience any less harrowing. All the force and pressure got to my head, and in that brief moment of delirium I wondered if this was how it felt to be a cannonball.

Then everything went black.

“ ‘Ey… Wake up, ya scallywag.”

Something shoved into my ribs, triggering a reflexive gasp. All the rushing air did not agree with the dry saltiness of my mouth and throat. The coughing fit I was sent into forced me to sit up.

The ground was loose and hot. The world was bright, though my eyes were too bleary to make out anything in detail. The lower half of my body was still freezing, and I understood why when a gentle wave rolled in over my legs.

A shadow fell over me, and a hand roughly grabbed my face to hold me still as the coughs began to subside.

“Drink up, easy does it.”

The spout of a waterskin touched my cracked lips, and my shaking hands lifted to tilt it back. Cool, clean water soothed my parched throat. A few good swigs of that, and I already felt loads better.

I blinked up at the figure standing over me, finding a striking woman with bluish undertones to her skin. Long, pointed ears stuck out from the dark seaweed-green curls cascading over her shoulders. 

“Captain…” I sighed with relief. 

It was hardly a surprise that she was in better shape than me and the rest of the crew scattered along the shore around us. Even after…whatever that ordeal was. She was an elf born and raised under the sea, long since accustomed to the harsh conditions of the depths of the ocean. Those of us from the land were lucky to be alive at all.

Meeting the Captain's teal gaze, I managed to croak out, “What…happened?”

Captain Tidesong smiled at me, a genuinely soft smile that was a rare sight to behold. Even after all these years among her crew, it was easy to forget that even the most fearsome of pirates had this side to them.

“We were protected.”

I frowned and felt my eyes glaze over as I thought back on the ordeal. The storm. It was all a little fuzzy, almost dream-like, but I distinctly remembered a lack of feeling protected. Then again, I was alive, as were the rest of the crew that washed up…

A sharp elbow to the head snapped me out of those thoughts. I uttered a choked sound and shot the Captain a startled, questioning glare, only to find she wasn't looking at me.

Following her gaze out to sea showed me a line of familiar rowboats lining the shore, enough to carry everyone washed ashore. The Fortune Saber stood tall on the horizon, and even at a distance I could tell she was battered, but miraculously in one piece.

I blinked hard and rubbed salty sand away from my eyes, because I could swear the Saber was hovering ever so slightly above the water. That wasn't possible. Must have been some trick of the light, or I was still delirious from the ordeal.

“Never before has the name of that ol’ ship of mine felt so appropriate,” mused Captain Tidesong, drawing my attention back to her. “Calling for her was an act of desperation. We were lucky she was near enough to take heed.”

Her words gave me a lot to think about as she dragged me to my feet to help her revive the others. Captain Tidesong was always very open about her religion to anyone who asked. The whole thing wasn't my cup of tea, but I didn't mind hearing her talk about it. She wasn't one to proselytize, but it was linked so strongly to her clan's culture that the topic couldn't be avoided forever. As a sailor, I could certainly understand the logic behind devoting oneself to a protective sea god. 

I thought back to stories of the Mer-Death, to that monster I saw below the waves, and a few more stories resurfaced in my memory. Sailors that claimed to only be alive thanks to such a creature. In times of otherwise deadly circumstances that would have destroyed any mortal being, they were granted a second chance by this benevolent spirit of the ocean. Those new worshippers, along with people of the sea like my Captain, reclaimed the title her victims gave her. They softened the name, and over time that was what stuck amongst the few in the world who were even aware of her existence. 

There was much work to be done, so I resolved to speak later with the Captain in more depth about following an entity like Maradyth.

[the-haunted-office]

7 and 18!

TRUTHFUL TUESDAY

7. what’s one thing you could improve on?

Well, thanks to you and one other person for speaking up, I am working on improving the flow of my replies better, so they aren't as disjointed between the dialogue and actions of my muses. (/pos I just realized this might have come across sarcastic and it's not meant to be that way! x_x). I am hoping to improve on that, anyway, I'm really trying!

One other area I could improve outside of that is - I think I need to work on focusing more on creating bonds between muses and less on like, storybuilding, at least initially, if that makes sense. Being completely candid, I got used to having to build all the storylines and plots and everything myself over time because it has been a real struggle for me finding people to rp with, and I feel like... in many cases in threads, I've been the one who has to lead the thread. I'm trying to word that as carefully as possible because I don't want to feel like I'm putting anyone down or anything.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, because I feel like I'm having to lead threads and create storylines all the time, focusing on the bonds between muses kind of took a backseat over time when I really didn't mean for that to happen, and I feel like that might have been... offputting to people, I guess? I don't have proof of that, I don't know, all I know is that I have had a tremendously difficult time getting rp partners and holding onto them and gaining and maintaining traction on my blog, and even trying to get any sort of feedback from people as to what I've done wrong or ways I can improve has been a struggle, so I've been left trying to self diagnose and this is part of what I could come up. I don't know if it's even close to the mark, but it's what I've got. I want to try to focus more on building relationships between my muses and other people's muses.

Sorry that was long-winded, but there it is!

18. what’s your favorite trope?

I think found family has to be my favorite trope, at least that I can think of off the top of my head! I just love the idea of a group of misfitted individuals coming together and seeing the light in each other, and caring for one another and just choosing each other where they were rejected everywhere else. I feel that way so much about myself in my life so the trope feels really personal and warm to me. It's been something I've treasured as far back as I can remember, beginning with The Land Before Time. And actually, that movie is a huge part of this blog too, in the background. Littlefoot and his friends' journey to the Great Valley, how he lost his mother and how she guided him to the Great Valley, all the danger, how the world around them changed, the found family trope, just all of it. It's a beautiful movie and means so much to me, I'll treasure it forever.

[1234-angelika]

Fateful Encounters

an:this is the first part of my Happily Ever After series for Luke. He's definitely one of my favourites so I'm super excited to share this one with you. I hope y'all like it

words:1.1k

warnings: I don't think there are any, if you see any just let me know.

summary:"You often meet your fate on the road you took to avoid it."-French Proverb

masterpost|taglist|have an idea?

You had started your day in the early hours of the morning, 4 am to be exact. You had made a career out of blogging, much to the chagrin of your parents. You had tried university right out of high school but, you could feel that it just wasn’t for you. Not to mention, you didn’t really want that debt looming over you. It has been a process, though, to get to the point you’re at. A lot of blood, sweat and, tears have gone into making your career successful.

On the side, you ran a YouTube channel, often for clothing hauls and try-on videos, but occasionally, you would vlog. Clothes and just lifestyle topics were something you became super passionate about near the end of high school. Many of the people you thought were your friends dumped you as soon as you dropped out of university. Your channel was created out of a love for clothes and had become your second source of income. You spent the better part of your morning at the mall, picking up some clothes you had your eyes on for a while. You also emptied your PO box of all the PR packages you had gotten from companies.

Turning into the park, a shortcut back to your apartment, really, you held up your camera to finish off your vlog, arms full of bags. You felt like a circus act, and you definitely should have ordered the uber you were thinking about.

“Hi friends!It’s been a while since I’ve been on here but, I am back and excited to be so—“ You paused to pet a dog that ran up to you, “—I’ll probably be doing weekly vlogs so I can catch up with you all and so you can see a bit of what happens behind the blog. Today I went shopping and I picked up all the packages from my PO box so I’ll be filming a separate unboxing for those on Monday—“

You continued through the park, smiling at all the babies and puppies, petting the ones that came up to you. You kept walking and stumbled upon a coffee cart; you wouldn’t say no to a bit of caffeine. You ordered yourself a drink and then took a seat on the bench opposite of the cart. Taking a little break, you let yourself relax and bask in the sun on the unseasonably warm fall day. Slowly, you sipped on the coffee and looked around the park. There was an adorable little girl, with a woman who seemed to be her mother, throwing coins into the fountain. A mommy group hanging out by the playground like they do every week, without fail. And there was no shortage of attractive people jogging along the paths paved through the park.

After finishing your coffee, you checked your phone quickly before disposing of the cup and heading back on your way. You continued down the winding paths, pausing every so often to shift the heavy bags. And then you came to the part of the park where the path no longer worked for you. Meaning, you had to walk across the grass, which in itself is not entirely safe, but with dogs and flying toys, it becomes more of a danger. As you walked across the grass, some genius part of you decided it would be an excellent idea to vlog again.

You were so busy talking into your camera that you had stopped paying attention to what was going on around you, minus the occasional glances at the ground to ensure you didn’t trip. You were almost out of the park when, all of a sudden, you were hit with a foreign object.

“Ow!” You exclaimed as the object hit you.

Looking around, there was nobody in the near vicinity meaning that whoever threw the offensive object had a pretty good arm. Down on the ground, where it had landed beside you, was a ratty old tennis ball that had definitely seen better days.

Over the hill, a dog came running toward you, adorable as ever. The dog picked up the tennis ball and then sat by your feet. You bent down to read her collar.

“Roxy, huh?” She barked in response, tail wagging. “Do you want me to throw the ball for you?” She barked again and dropped the ball.

So you set your bags down carefully along with your camera and threw the ball. It didn’t go as far as it had come, but it was still a decent distance. You started to pick up your bags again when she returned with the ball to you. You weren’t expecting this. You were expecting her to go back to her owner. So, you picked the ball up and threw it again, a little further this time. You did this for a while before your arm got tired, and you had to stop.

The ground was dry, so you took a seat on the grass. Setting your bags down beside you and made yourself as comfortable as you could on the hard ground. Roxy dropped the ball by your feet and laid her head in your lap. Gently, you pet her, soothing both yourself and the dog. You planned on staying with her until her owner came to find her. Faintly, you could hear a man calling out for the dog.

“Roxy?!” “Roxy?!”

She only barked in response, not moving from her spot beside you on the grass. He jogged up to the two of you with a gorgeous smile on his face.

“Hey Roxy, it looks like you made a new friend huh?” He said, laughter in his tone while walking closer to the two of you. “And sorry for hitting you with the ball. It was an accident, I didn’t think I would throw it that far.” He apologized sincerely, looking at you.

You just smiled and said, “Maybe it was an accident…or maybe it was fate. Either way, I’m glad it happened. My names Y/N.” Standing up, you outstretched your hand for him to shake.

Shaking your hand, the dazzling contagious smile still on his face, he said, “My name’s Luke and you’ve obviously already met Roxy.”

You chatted for a few minutes before you realized how late it was getting. You picked up your bags, bid a farewell and, continued on your way home. You just couldn’t help but thank your lucky stars that night that you had a chance to meet Luke. The one thing that you couldn’t get off your mind.

[regrettablewritings]

DJ X READER HEADCANON you pick 😉😉

I blink at the request that stares back at me from my inbox, brow furrowing with every flutter of my lashes. "Sis . . ." I murmur, "you good?" As though my ass had not also been search for content relating to this forgotten POS just the other day. But if you insist . . .

4. What they do on date night:

To be brutally honest, DJ will look you dead in the eye and tell you that going for a night out on the town pick-pocketing is a date. Or, at least, he will try to. It's surprisingly hard to maintain eye contact with someone whose glare could probably cut beskar.

In his defense (if he even deserves any), DJ does try to make it a little more fun than he already finds it -- granted, it's done in a very DJ way. You get your little evening promenade through the streets, he tricks you to a quick bite to eat, you hold hands and run through the lantern-speckled streets before turning down a narrow alleyway that's just perfect for sharing an intense liplock . . .

Of course, this all translates into your evening together including: Walking through a marketplace, your asshole boyfriend slipping peoples' credits out of their pockets and purses under the guise of bumping into them; him using those sticky fingers of his to nick some street food off of a cart before its proprietor called the authorities on his theft; said sticky fingers lacing with yours as he guides you down the crowded streets (grinning like the little shit he was for enjoying the chase); all before making a sudden jerk down an alleyway.

You're breathless, irritated, and . . . maybe -- only just maybe -- a little excited by the thrill of it all. But you can't let him know that, otherwise, he'd never let you live it down and he'd be the cock of the goddamn walk for who knows how long. Worse: He'd consider this a win for his insistence that this sort of thing counted as a date! And there was no way in hell you were about to let that happen!

You only got as far as opening your mouth to hiss own some choice words at him when you instead got cut off by your thieving significant other pressing you against the grubby alley wall. Even if you hadn't been distracted by the action to remember to cuss him out, the words were instantly killed. They were inhaled by his own lips, his kiss encompassing your words, your thoughts, your . . . everything. They were speared by his tongue, as though it were his weapon against the beast that brewed within you.

And they were quelled by the feel of his callused fingers brushing against your cheeks before moving onward to the beck of your head, pressing you only further into his hold. DJ's fingers were deft, but that didn't necessarily mean that their carefulness was always directed at you. It's . . . something to savor . . .

Of course, it was meant to fool the chumps following the both of you but you don't mind. Not in that moment anyway. When you get back to wherever you're staying for the night, it's another story, but one DJ is more than happy to bring to a happy ending.

It's a bit nicer when he gets his hands one someone's credits, though: It means he can take you out to an actual establishment. However, be warned: It's only a bit nicer because you also need to be on the lookout for the authorities (or the poor bastard you stole from), or be prepared to make a run for it.

11. What their first impression was of each other:

Dirty. Old. Bastard. A dirty old bastard. And to your credit, you weren't wrong, but of course, the first impression is always the shallowest. And considering the shithead had just tried to put the moves on you when you were already having a rough day . . . Yeah, he honestly deserved presumptions with the depth of one's own navel -- an outie, preferably.

He stood out against the Canto Bight elite with his grubbiness, looking like a leathery garbage pouch at best and like a guy who'd try to sell you a faulty droid at moderate. A dirty, bastardly part of you couldn't help but muse that perhaps the worst he could do was be a nasty lay -- and not nasty in the way one might want, either.

Granted, it wasn't hard to imagine that: The fact he was hitting on you while you were trying your best to just survive your shift at the casino that evening did little to convince you he was any good.

And as for DJ, it was a one-two-punch type of introduction. Literally: First he eyed you, then he got a little too suggestive, and then you punched him. What a sleazeball, right? It was his own damn fault for assuming the least of you, though. You were cute like all the other servers, no doubt, with that shy smile of yours that made it abundantly clear to him that this sort of place wasn't your scene if you didn't have to work there. Unlike the other servers, however, he was feeling pretty brazen about you.

DJ has no interest in the concept of “fate” or “destined meetings”, but even months out from that point he wouldn’t be able to place precisely what compelled him to break his usual protocol of being discreet. Nor why he was so insistent. All he knows was that he called you over to him and, rather than requesting a drink, he “chatted you up”. And might’ve suggested that you two blow off this place and maybe “blow off somewhere else”.

He also knows that the moment you struck his cheek, cheeks burning and eyes widened with the realization of what you’d done, he was wrong and right about you.

You were frankly lucky he turned out to be a blight on the Canto Bight scene, otherwise your boss would’ve fired you the moment he had learned of what you had done. What you were unlucky for, however, was that from then on, the thief started showing up more often. Not enough to get caught (at least, not for long), but enough for him to determine that maybe the both of you really should blow this joint -- in the nonsexual way.

And in the end, you became unlucky once more: For someone so grubby and bastardly, he was also quite the charmer. Y’know, once you’ve smacked him around a bit.

14. What nicknames they call each other:

You honestly struggle to nickname DJ, predominately because, well, DJ is already a nickname. You think. After all, you sincerely doubt anyone would actually name their kid Don’t Join even as a political statement. Really, the fact you don’t know his actual name sort of calls for consideration of how healthy your obviously unhealthy relationship is. But any pleas to learn this asshole’s real name just winds up being like having a namana cream pie shoved in your face, because DJ just turns it all into a joke.

There have been many occasions where DJ would tell you different names he would swear were his own -- often times in the same week! Other times, his claim would be that he’s told you it while you were asleep, or that he once told you but you got conked on the head and forgot it.

Interestingly enough, it’s through these juvenile exploits that he’s earned a bit of a nickname from you: “Bastard”. Just rolls off the tongue, don’t it? To be fair, though, you’re with him for a reason: Even if he may not seem like it, he does have a soft sport for you. Even if it comes out about as smoothly as his features.

In a way, he reminds you of a mutt. A stray mutt. Especially when he shoves his head into your lap after a long day of fucking about and being a menace to whatever society you two decided to hop a ship to.

“You’re like a puppy sometimes, you know that?” you murmur. You scritch into his mess of hair, earning a low growl of contentment from your datemate. He never had to admit it out loud, but your touch clearly did wonders to him. This was evidence by how his already large body began to further sprawl along the couch the ship he’d stolen came with. Yup; just like a puppy. A big, raggedy puppy. Who needs a trip to the refresher as soon as this scritching session was over.

For DJ, on the other hand, nicknames come easily. Honestly, it’s mainly due to how he barely takes anyone or anything seriously: When you don’t concern yourself with all the muddled nonsense of society or wide circles of people, it becomes a whole lot easier to see everyone’s buttons. And considering he was a master slicer, button-pressing was definitely his thing.

Despite the fact that you were a one-in-a-million instance of being someone whom the thief actually trusted and treated with even a modicum of respect, even you weren’t immune to his acts of mockery.

“Mornin’, P-p-pipsqueak,” he’d smirk over a cup of caff, knowing damn well that his advantage of height bothered you sometimes.

“Ea-asy there, k-kitten,” he’d purr whenever your frustration would come boiling to the brim. Things like that.

“Lookie here, dollface,” when he wants to butter you up without losing his stance.

But that doesn’t mean he’s unable to be more affectionate. It’s in there, it’s just . . . in there. The best examples, however, tend to be when the both of you are having downtime and are actually safe somewhere. Or whatever safe could mean when you’re with DJ.

Generally, a jail cell wouldn’t be considered safe. Maybe not unsafe if the only occupants were your boyfriend of ill repute and yourself, but it certainly wasn’t enjoyable. And yet, the way DJ just seemed to laze about in them made you feel unnaturally calm. Well, calmer. It would’ve been nicer if your more-than-capable boyfriend would put those slicing skills of his to use and just busted the both of you out of there, but to DJ, a night in the clink meant at least a few hours of shut eye on a bed.

“B-bes-s-sides: We can alw-w-ways just grab on-e of those f-f-f-floating citadels they g-g-g-got docked out there,” he would reason, making himself comfy on the thin mattress. He had a point, you supposed. And it wasn’t as though you hadn’t been expecting this as a part of your life once you got together with him. Still, you weren’t entirely comfortable joining him on said mattress . . . Maker knows when it had last been washed!

You would be far from the first to consider DJ to be the most observant person, dating or not, but your concern must’ve been rich enough for him to practically sense it: Without hesitating, he sat up just enough to offer you his hand.

“C-come on,” he said. “I need to c-c-c-catch some shut e-e-eye, and it ain’t hap-p-p-penin’ if you’re standing d-d-down there the entire t-time.”

A feeling of mild dread seeped into you, followed by a wet blanket of acceptance. You were going to just spend an hour in the refresher of whatever ship you swept off with. Sighing, you accepted the hand, only for the hold to pull you up not onto the mattress, but directly on top of him!

There was plenty to react to -- the sudden movement, the feeling of being on top of DJ -- but the man himself didn’t seem at all fazed. Instead, he focused primarily on tucking in whatever lagging limbs you had and making sure he was cozy enough to continue serving as your mattress for however many hours he needed to recuperate. Which he apparently was: Not once did he protest to your weight pressing down on him, nor did he grunt with displeasure whenever you turned the direction of your head against his chest.

At the most, he only ever offered your back a brief circle of rubbing with his free hand, the other serving as his pillow, before uttering a drowsy, “You good there, kid?”

And, to your surprise . . . yeah. In spite of everything, yeah, you were pretty good . . .

And yet, interestingly enough, no matter what he calls you, none of that ever measures up to when he calls you by your name. Not pipsqueak, not kitten, not dollface or kid or whatever, but your actual name. Because DJ hardly ever refers to anyone by their actual title, let alone cares to remember it. By not only remembering it, but applying it, it shows you that he does care. It’s deep down -- like, real in there -- but it’s there. And you’re the only non-slicing being in the entire galaxy to have ever cracked that sort of safe.

Wear that badge with pride, Hotshot.

Thanks for your patience on this one! Clearly I had a lot of fun writing it! 💖 💖 . . . May gotta actually start writing for DJ. Maybe.

[watch-grok-brainrot]

Wuji Refrain Breakdown/Translation

I feel like every time I hear the refrain of the cql end theme I break a little because the feeling of mourning and missing and loving overwhelms me.

煮一壶 生死悲欢 祭少年郎

EVERY TIME this line starts playing my heart just stops. The imagery it invokes SO freakishly sad.

煮 - boil/cook

一 - a

壶 - pot

生 - life/birth

死 - death

悲 - sorrow

欢 -joy

祭 - sacrifice/memorialize

少 - small/young/few

年 - years

郎 - man/boy, used also as part of the binome meaning groom (新郎), sometimes used to address a male significant other.

So all together i would translate it as 

“Boiling a pot of life’s breadth of feelings to memorialize a young man I loved”

The idea of “boiling a pot of” I associate with alcohol. A lot of old school booze was ingested warm. And that echoes the character for sacrifice/memorialize since alcohol is often poured onto the ground to memorialize people. Pour one out for the dead, right?

And the phrase 生死悲欢 actually echoes a song dynasty poem by su dong po where he says “ 人有悲欢离合，月有阴晴圆缺 humans suffer sorrow, joy, union, and separation and the moon has clear and overcast days, waxes and wanes”. The union and separation part of the phrase about people got replaced by life and death -- LWJ and WWX’s specific union and separation. 

So the image this line paints in my head is snow slowly falling outside the jingshi. LWJ with his hair down, tending to a pot of emperor’s smile. Tears are probably flowing down his face but no one is there to see it so it’s ok. He pours out the emperor’s smile -- all of it -- and looks up at the moon and says something to WWX. And in his head, there is zero question that WWX is the youth he loved. 

明月依旧何来怅惘

So this continues from the previous line where LWJ pours out the pot of liquor and thinks of wwx. He stares at the moon and he asks the moon about his feelings.

明- bright

月- moon

依旧- still/as before/ unchanged (two characters are aligned with and old)

何 - what/why

来 - come

怅惘 - listless/distracted

“The moon still shines bright, so from whence does my listlessness come?” 

This echos poetry by Li Bai, Su Dongpo, Wang Anshi, Wang Changling, and basically anyone of note in chinese poetry. The image of a bright moon is often associated with wistful longing, missing loved ones, and inexplicable sorrow. Examples (via haoppo’s quick translation and any additional notes i think are relevant): 

秦时明月汉时关，万里长征人未还。——王昌龄《出塞》

The bright moon since Qin and the Pass since Han, 10000 li traveling, the people have not returned. 

( this is a poem about war. the moon and the pass symbolize how war has been continuous since these have existed. The 10000 li represents the distance between China proper and the borders. The people not returning are the soldiers. OOOOOF.)

明月几时有，把酒问青天。——苏轼《水调歌头》

When will the next bright moon be? I lift my liquor to ask the deep blue sky.

(This poem is ICONIC. It’s the on same one as where 人有悲欢离合，月有阴晴圆缺 is from. It’s very commonly associated with Mid Autumn Festival. The whole point of the festival is to look at the moon and realize everyone you love that is still alive is able to see that same moon. Sweet, sentimental, wistful)

春风又绿江南岸，明月何时照我还？——王安石《泊船瓜洲》

The spring breeze has brought greenness to the lands of Jiangnan. When will the moon’s light guide me home? 

(Jiangnan means south of the river. It’s a region in china south of the yangtze. Iconic because it includes Shanghai, Nanjing (nanking), Hangzhou, Suzhou, etc. Jiangnan is where a lot of cultural things happened in south china. Hangzhou and Suzhou are two of THE MOST BEAUTIFUL cities. There’s a saying that in the sky there is heaven and on earth we have hangzhou and suzhou. I can go on about this but this isn’t a post about how freaking much i love traveling in jiangnan.)

我寄愁心与明月，随风直到夜郎西。——李白《闻王昌龄左迁龙标遥有此寄》

I mail my sorrowful heart and bright moon, via wind, directly to west Yelang 

(I didn’t want to use the standard bright moon and frost poem we get whenever we think of Li Bai. But i also couldn’t not include Li Bai! So this one! Li Bai’s writing is pretty clear he has feels and he’s sending them to west Yelang. But what is west Yelang? It’s where his friend is! The poem is basically, hey, i heard you were at this palace so i’m writing you a poem and telling you how i want to be with you!)

So the next line is a tone shift and it’s more of a promise, IMO. This is WWX and LWJ’s wish. Not as heartbreaking but still part of the refrain so i want to include this in my post. 

不如 潇潇洒洒 历遍风和浪

This part is a MOOD and hard to translate. I will try to at least explain it. 

不如 - not as good as/would rather

潇潇洒洒 - freely/natural/easy/unrestrained (ope, isn’t this just wuji? :P)

历 - experience/weather

遍 - through

风 - wind

和 - and

浪 - waves

“I would rather freely experience all of life’s dangers.”

So, 潇潇洒洒 is just a MOOD. It’s the mood of a rogue cultivator untethered to rules. It’s the mood of the legendary masters in Wuxia Jianghu who does what they want and are completely at ease. They wander through towns righting wrongs and standing up for justice and then leave without a trace. It’s the feeling of wind in your hair as you stand at the top of a hill on a crisp day. It’s free of stress and pain and suffering. I think the closest thing i’ve seen in english is something like “footloose and fancy free” but without the romantic connotations. 

And then the experience + through  basically means experience all of or experience thoroughly. 

And wind + waves is a way of saying hardships, danger, or trials: the wind blows and waves come, the waves bring the ups and downs of life. I love how chinese words are very imagery based. 

天涯一曲共悠扬

tiān yá yì qǔ gòng yōu yang

天涯 - end of the earth (literally sky + cliff) 

一 - a 

曲 - song/tune

共 - together

悠扬 - melodious (leisurely + spread)

“Playing a melody together to the end of the earth.”

And this part of the song invokes the last scene of the show where WWX is playing a flute ON A CLIFF (note, end of earth = sky + cliff). I’m positive he’s there waiting for LWJ and trying to hasten LWJ’s appearance by playing THEIR SONG. 

Ok. I’m done. I’m going to go listen to this song and TRY NOT TO CRY. And it’s ONLY 4 LINES of the song! The rest of it is just as bad. Gaaaaaaaah. SO MANY FEELS. 

[starculler]

Whumptober 2021: Day 2

Word Count: 2798 || Read on Ao3

Tags/Warnings: Star Wars, Anakin Skywalker, Violence, Choking, Garotte/Strangling, Near Death, Hurt, Mild Comfort

Rex took the lead when they finally made their way through the abandoned city and into the next decaying structure marked on their maps, leaving Anakin to bring up the rear while Ahsoka split off with R2 and half their troops in search of a working terminal. He watched his men flick on their lights, a mix of bright beams from either helmets or blasters, and waited until he was far enough from the entrance that the system’s dying star’s dim light was useless before activating his lightsaber. It hummed, that same, single, comforting tone he’d listened to every day since he’d first found his crystal, and felt the tight tension in his shoulders loosen just a fraction.

The planet — moonless, abandoned, destroyed, and dying — felt like a jagged scrape against the back of his skull. A stinging itch he couldn’t scratch. It wasn’t a void or the sort of suffocating darkness he’d felt on some worlds, but it wasn’t overflowing like Coruscant or even the cooling balm he associates with Naboo. Even Tatooine, much as he was loath to admit it, felt more alive and intact. This planet just … was. His first step off the dropship had sent a skittering chill up his spine, not a warning so much as an expectation that had dogged him every step since.

He breathed in, cool air and dust and decay, and tightened his grip on his saber, shoving every ounce of hesitation and uncertainty to the back of his mind. His men moved carefully, slowly, ahead of him. None of them expected any surprises, but they had a way of finding the 501st like an Akk dog after its dinner. The lot of them had learned to merely expect things would go wrong at some point or other rather than hope for the best and wind up disappointed or worse. Anakin, specifically, had learned that lesson early on as a Padawan. Rarely had a mission with Obi-Wan gone simply.

They checked under fallen columns and crumbling duracrete, poking their noses in any space large enough to hold a sentient being or pint-sized droid. Anakin listened with one ear to his men’s chatter on their internal comms, tinny through the modified ear-piece he’d connected to his communicator for use on those rare missions that required a stealthier approach. It wasn’t technically necessary here, but the thought of breaking the city’s still silence any more than necessary had made his skin crawl. When the last trooper called in the all-clear on their section of the second floor, some two hours after they’d first walked in, Anakin gave the order to move on to the next.

He sighed, bent over yet another stack of warped metal and crumbling columns, and hoped Ahsoka’s team was having better luck finding anything at all. The space underneath the mess looked tight, but just big enough for someone or something about his size to squeeze through. He held his lightsaber up, shifting around suspiciously cracked sections of flooring until he knelt in front of the gap, balanced on his mechanical arm as he squinted into the shallow, blue-lit tunnel of debris.

Something skittered at the edge and he tensed. Held his breath. Slowly, cautiously, he shuffled forward, a firm grip on his lightsaber as he leaned in. And sighed, nearly slumping when a beady-eyed rat squeaked and squealed at him before darting forward and past him to scurry off and hide elsewhere in the room. He leaned one shoulder on the jagged edge of a column, pulling his weight off his other arm so he could tap a quick “all-clear” into his wrist-comm rather than risk inhaling a suffocating cloud of dust in the cramped space.

He waited for Rex’s response, an affirmative and a quick update on who was checking which parts of the, frankly, cavernous space. He spared himself a brief break before moving to catch up with the others, switching back to the general channel from the private line he used to communicate with Rex, to listen in on the troops’ chatter. Apparently, the argument of the hour had devolved into a scavenger hunt of sorts. Two parts rat-hunt and three-parts treasure hunt. One of the shinies, Net, was winning. Rex was in fifth place out of fifteen and Echo in last.

Anakin grinned as he moved back out, glad they, at least, were finding a way to pass the time. It wasn’t quite relaxed, and Anakin still felt that itch in his skull and the skitter in his spine, like cool fingers wrapped around his bones, but it was better than all of them jumping at shadows. He sat up, glad for a fresh breath of air instead of just grit and dust, and pushed up onto one knee with a halfhearted groan. More to hear something other than their collective, echoing steps and the quiet, tinny chatter fed into his ear.

He heard a faint crunch behind him, the same sound they all made as they picked their way across the room, but paid it no mind. Some trooper, he figured, who’d doubled back for one reason or another, and Anakin had never minded having one of his men at his back.

Until he did.

Everything seemed to grind to a halt for one long, breathless moment. Anakin didn’t breathe. His troops didn’t talk. The seconds didn’t tick forward. The planet didn’t turn. For a moment, there was nothing at all but the pluck of a string, pulled in from his navel and out through his back. A nauseating note, out of tune and out of place, screaming at him. Warning him. And then, abruptly, there was everything.

He moved. To duck. To turn. To get away, but the warning came too late and his reaction too slow. He’d barely registered a brush of warm skin against his jaw, a puff of hot air in his hair, the press of a solid, unarmored body against his back before the sting of cool, thin wire cutting into his throat and stole his focus.

The world around him narrowed down until it was just: Thick, leather gloves. Knuckles pressing and digging into the back of his neck. Wire pulled taut and tight against his throat, forcing him up onto his feet and further back against his attacker’s body or risk it slicing clean through. The clatter of his lightsaber, fallen from his grip as panic pulled him into frantic motion. His own choked, gasping breaths as his fingers scrabbled uselessly at his throat.

His attacker pulled tighter. Anakin felt the painful arch of his spine, desperate to find relief. Felt blood bead and drip and soak into the collar of his tunic, staining his hand and glove as he pried and reached and pulled and finally found something vulnerable even as reaching for it threatened to wrench his shoulder from its socket. He dug his nails in, scratching and tearing the way he had in the few fights he’d gotten into in the dry heat and desert sands, too little and too weak to do anything else.

They hissed, and it felt like victory until the wire pulled even tighter, cut deeper, and all Anakin could do was flail. He lost his grip. His chest burned, panic and suffocation and the horrifying, gut-churning realization that he would die. Helpless. Weak. Dark spots blooming in his vision and blotting out what little he could see of the room and what few men had yet to join Rex further in. He would die at the hands of a coward determined to leave Padmé a widow, Ahsoka without a master, his men without a general, and Obi-Wan—

Anakin had always struggled with his temper. He ran too hot. Too bright. He felt too much and the wrong way and he’d done his best to learn control and peace and serenity until he hadn’t. Until the war and his marriage and the toll every campaign took on him and those he cared for made those ideals seem so much less important than they’d been when he was young.

Anakin had always struggled, but rarely with the Force. He knew control. How to pace himself and hold back even if it burned to do so. He knew its song and its touch and the deep, endless depths he never reached out to for fear he’d lose himself in it despite how it called and crooned and begged for him to do so. He had before, a handful of times. Scared and small and so powerless that he’d clung to that familiar well like a child would its parent. Like he had his mother.

The air seemed to crackle, alive and electric around him. Roaring a pulsing, pounding beat synced to his own heart’s frantic pounding until there seemed no difference between the two. He reached for the peace and calm Obi-Wan had done his best to all but beat into him, and felt it slip through his fingers. Felt his thoughts fall away. The panic and the pain dimming and fading — aware that he was dying and yet watching it happen as if it weren’t his body there. In the dark. Bleeding and gasping and choking.

It felt a little like falling into a pool of ice. Shocking and numbing and so overwhelming he could hardly wrap his head around it.

He wanted to fade. He wanted to stay. He wanted to see the people he loved. Protect them. Be with them. He wanted a life with his wife. To see his padawan knighted. To help end the war not just for the galaxy, but for his men and the Jedi dying in droves. He wanted to see his former master, old and gray and content and proud.

He didn’t reach for the well so much as he dove into it. He sank into the depths from the tips of fingers down to his toes until he wasn’t so much a body or a person, but the air and the stars and the thrum of sudden, anxious adrenaline coursing through his men’s veins. It was odd. It was home. He stretched far across the galaxy, deep into the core and out into wild space. He huddled, small and compact and contained in finite flesh.

The Force swayed. A chorus. An ocean’s undulating current. The wind whipping and howling in a storm one moment and a gentle breeze the next. It held him close and pushed him away, moved through and around him until he could hardly find where it ended and he began.

It knew him. Loved him. And for a moment in that endless stretch of infinity, he was it.

Then, he wasn’t. He crashed back to himself, a tidal wave of electric power that shook the very floor he stood on, raining dust and debris from above and shoving everything else away with a concussive force he could barely comprehend. He gasped, choking and coughing and spitting as he fell to his hands and knees under a nauseating wave of vertigo. Trembling and numb, he heaved in huge gasping gulps of air only to choke on the burning bile crawling up his throat and half-swallowed sobs.

His fingers curled into cracked duracrete, stinging where sharp edges cut into his fingers, but it helped. He followed that small point of pain up his arm to his throbbing, dripping, draining throat, and from there to the new burn on his cheek and the painful pounding in his head until he’d made a mental map of pain in his body. His living body. He would have laughed if he could, relief and loss mixing into some complicated feeling he wouldn’t dissect until he was safely locked away in his room on the flagship.

A hand on his shoulder startled him, and he bristled, coiled and ready for a fight, until he heard his Captain’s familiar voice, though he could hardly make out a word. Rex’s hand squeezed his shoulder before slipping away and Anakin could have cried for the loss of it. He didn’t, but he could have if he weren’t still struggling to breathe. He heard other voices, no less muffled than Rex’s. Saw white plastoid armor with patterns painted in 501st blue, and felt as one of his medics checked him over and patched him up.

By the time he was done with Anakin — shining lights in his eyes, applying bacta and wrapping bandages, shoving the mouth of a flask against his lips once he could breathe again — the men had settled around the room, blasters ready while Rex stood, not too far from Anakin, helmet off and talking to the tiny, blue-tinged holo-image of Ahsoka projected on his wrist.

“Kriff,” Anakin rasped, hissing in pain when the cut on his throat throbbed in response. He could feel the medic’s arched brow and scathing look through the man’s helmet, and flushed, chastened even as he waved him off.

“Sir,” Rex said, turning back to him as Ahsoka’s image winked out. “How do you feel?”

“Like shit,” he signed back, grinning when his medic — Dent? He was pretty sure it was Dent — sighed. Rex laughed and clapped the medic on the back in, he assumed, solidarity. “What happened?”

It was Rex’s turn to sigh. “I don’t really know, sir. It looks like they followed us in, which explains why we didn’t catch them in our sweep, but not why we didn’t find them on our scans. I’d already taken half the men out to start looking through the next wing by the time you called in.” Rex pinched the bridge of his nose with the hand not holding his helmet, his pistols holstered at his sides and the other mens’ lights keeping the area around Anakin lit. “We rushed back as soon as we knew something was wrong.

“Got here just in time to watch you use your magic —” Rex waggled his fingers as he said the word, resolutely ignoring Anakin’s pout at the playful jab and quickly signed correction — “to throw them back and nearly bring the whole building down.” Anakin winced, hoping he hadn’t hurt any of his troops though he was mostly sure Rex would have told him if he had.

“Don’t remember that,” he signed, slow and almost uncertain, brows furrowed and lips pressed in a thin line. “And what about this?” He gestured to the bandaged burn on his cheek. Rex nodded looking equal parts proud and rather like he wanted to strangle someone.

“Someone,” he said pointedly, louder than he needed to, and Anakin thought he saw one of the troopers across the room flinch, “took a shot when he found an opening, managed a solid hit to your now-dead assailant’s shoulder but nicked you in the process, sir.” Anakin nodded, lips tugging into a small smile.

“Remind me thank him, Captain.” He raised his flesh hand to his neck, tracing the edge of the bandage with scraped, dusty fingers. “Most likely saved my life,” he added.

Rex nodded woodenly, eyes a fraction wider than they’d been, but said nothing. Anakin was … glad. Relieved. He knew, logically, that the whole ordeal had lasted a handful of minutes at most, if that, but it had felt so much longer. It had felt a lot like walking a tight rope blindfolded, swaying from one side to another in a fight for balance except Anakin knew he’d tipped just a little too far one way. He shuddered, shoving the thought away to be dissected, or not, when he wasn’t filthy and hurt and surrounded by troops that didn’t really need to be worrying about him over something as trivial as this.

“Help me up?” He looked between Rex and the medic, who was definitely Dent now that Anakin was a little more settled if not much less shaken.

“Sir, you really shouldn’t be—” Dent started in that firm tone of voice every medic and healer Anakin had ever met seemed to have. Was it taught to them? Part of whatever training or curriculum they were given?

“Come on,” Rex interrupted, holding out a hand that Anakin took all too happily. And perhaps a little smug if Dent’s helmet-modulated huff was anything to go by.

A little bit of near-death was, unfortunately, not reason enough to hold up their mission. Besides, the faster they finished, the faster Dent could haul him to the ship’s medbay and do everything his little medic heart wanted to him.

All the way through, behind the slowly easing headache and the aching, throbbing pain of his wounds, the itch in his skull and the skitter in his spine continued to dog him. Not a warning. An expectation. And Anakin wasn’t sure he wanted to know the cause after one near-death already.

[firstfrostfall]

A Cold Lament - Chapter Three

a tommy shelby fanfiction

In the winter of 1918, the Shelby brothers returned home from a war-torn France. In the winter of the following year, the middle brother, Tommy, recognizes an opportunity for his family to move up in the world, and it came in the shape of a misplaced crate of weapons.

In the meantime, per the request of his aunt, he gives a struggling young woman a job.

Little did he know, that like the smell of snow on the wind in late autumn, everything was going to change, and it wasn’t just because of some stolen guns.

Takes place during Season One.

It was cold and dark by the time he reached The Garrison. The air was painfully frigid, so much so, that each inhale he took felt like a whip cracking to his chest. The year would soon be coming to a close, and winter was just beginning.

He needed a drink, and someplace to drown out the quiet before settling in for the night with his pipe. It was almost midnight, and Harry would be closing down the pub soon.

Tommy spent the better part of his day at Charlie Strong’s Yard, doing yet another once over of the stock inside of the crate that they found. They counted each item once, twice, three times- just to make sure it was real after all, and not some sort of fever dream.

Oh, and it was fucking real all right. 25 automatic machine guns, 10,000 rounds of ammo, and a plethora of pistols.

The next order of business was figuring out what they were going to do with them, or rather, where they were going to put them. What a headache. One thing he knew for certain was that someone was going to realize this cargo had gone missing soon enough, and when that happened, he needed a plan.

Stolen guns aside, he had also spent a great deal of time trying to track down his brothers so they could purchase another horse for the upcoming races. Normally, he could do this on his own, but he had bigger ideas in mind. Bigger ideas that he needed his brothers for.

Now, getting the two of them in the same place at the same time was another hassle within itself, not to mention an additional headache.

Harry was behind the bar, humming to himself and organizing the racks of booze against the back wall, label facing front. At the sound of the door jingling, the barkeep lazily glanced over his shoulder with a yawn. Upon realizing who walked through the doors, he cleared his throat and sheepishly wiped his hands on his apron.

“Ah, Mr. Shelby, good evening,” His voice wavered. “How can I help you?”

Tommy nodded his head toward a particular bottle while shrugging off his coat.

He leaned against the bar then, waiting for his hands to warm up while Harry prepared his drink. He listened to the sounds of glasses clattering together, a bottle being uncorked, Harry’s hurried footsteps on the floor, the buzzing of the lights above. No factory machinery whirring in the background, no, it was far too late for that.

“Today was her first day, you know.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow, unsure of who Harry was speaking about until it clicked. The favor for his aunt, that’s whose first day it was.

Truthfully, he hadn’t given the girl a second thought since he last spoke to her, and that was a few days ago now. Codwell? Coldwell? He couldn’t remember her surname. Her first name, on the other hand, was simple enough to recall. Anna. It was Anna.

“Miss Caldwell, that is.” Harry continued, clearly recognizing the confusion on his face.

Caldwell. Well, he was close.

“Is she still here?”

“Yes,” The barkeep jerked his chin toward the back room. “In the back.”

Tommy retrieved his cigarette case from his coat and placed it on the bartop, perching an unlit stick between his lips. “How’d she do?”

“She did fine,” Harry shrugged mid-pour, with a small smile growing on his face. It made the corners of his eyes crinkle. “It’ll take some getting used to, I’d reckon. I’m not sure if she’s ever handled liquor in her life, but she’s a hard worker.” His tone was light, jovial almost.

Tommy sighed heavily through his nostrils while lighting the cigarette. A hard worker. Polly said the same damn thing.

Harry left him alone then and went about tidying up the bar. Sweeping the floor, cleaning soap scum from glasses. Meanwhile, Tommy switched between smoking and drinking, each vice warming his chest. He listened to all of the sounds, broom bristles against the floor, Harry humming, glass colliding with the bartop.

Amidst this, he saw a figure step into the room from the corner of his eye. He didn’t bother to look over, because it could have only been her, Anna. It wasn’t until Harry cleared his throat that he finally turned his head toward her.

She stood there, looking more diminutive than he initially realized. And tired. Her hair fell in loose waves around her, certainly not as neat as it had been before. No lipstick, either. Her blouse stuck out the most to him- it was covered in stains, each splotch in varying sizes and colors. A stark contrast to how buttoned up and proper she looked the other day. A rough first day, he imagined. It was almost comical.

He turned away to hide the smirk that grew on his lips while taking a slow sip from his drink. He hoped Polly was happy, he got the girl a job.

After a bit of small talk (he fucking hated small talk), it was time for him to take his leave. He got what he came for, a drink and some time to think.

He stubbed out the remnants of his dwindling cigarette on the cobblestone ground when he walked outside, deciding that he would light a fresh one almost immediately. Something to keep his mind busy while he walked home. It was far too cold for anything else.

He reached a hand into his jacket, fumbling for the cigarette case when his fingers brushed against something unfamiliar, a piece of cardstock. Confused, he pulled it out, and upon a further glance, it was her crumpled-up resume.

That was when the snow started falling. He stopped walking, barely flinching when the first few snowflakes hit the exposed part of his neck.

Her hands. He thought of her hands. He didn’t look at her hands this time.

He tucked the paper back into his coat and sighed, his breath fogging the air in front of him. He turned over his shoulder, and he saw her. The flickering street lights cast a warm glow over her as she stood there, bundled up in a coat far too big for her frame, staring right back at him.

They both looked at each other for a moment, possibly minutes, before he turned away and kept walking.

She was just another investment for the business and based on her appearance tonight, she’d be a poor one at that.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The snow from a few nights ago melted just as quickly as it came, leaving nothing but muddy puddles in its wake. Earlier in the day, Tommy had managed to track his brothers down, which was no simple task.

The three of them were on their way to The Garrison to drink, no surprise there, and to discuss plans for acquiring a new racehorse. An Appaloosa, to be exact. A young, flighty, and fast mare. With enough training, it would be perfect for the tracks. Tommy was almost certain of that.

The seller was from one of the riverside camps outside of the city, someone Polly had known from a long time back. This led Tommy to believe that the horse was no doubt stolen, especially since there weren’t many Appaloosas around these parts, which made it all the better deal. He’d probably be able to buy the damned thing at a discount.

“You hear? There’s a new girl working at The Garrison.” Arthur’s voice, loud and gruff, interrupted his thoughts. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Some posh bitch, yeah?” John asked.

“She’s posh?” Arthur raised his eyebrows. “What’s she doing here?”

“Dunno,” John shrugged. “Heard some people say she sounds posh. Haven’t seen her yet myself.”

Tommy was walking a few steps ahead of them, rolling his eyes. They were fucking stupid.

“You think she’s pretty?” John quipped with a grin.

“I’d bet she is,” Arthur replied.

“You wanna put a wager on it?”

“Oh, I’ll put a fuckin’ wager on it.”

He glanced over his shoulder at his brothers, watching as they spit and shook hands on it. Stupid.

It appeared to be a slow afternoon at the pub, with only a few men at the bar and a tiny handful of people scattered around various tables. Harry stood behind the bar, raising a hand to him in greeting while he spoke to other patrons. His brothers all but stumbled into the snug, laughing about who would win the wager. Tommy shook his head.

Anna, however, was nowhere in sight. He thought she’d be attached to the hip with Harry, like a dutiful trainee. It had been a few days since he was last at The Garrison, since the last time he saw her with the stained blouse, and almost a little over a week since he first met her. Maybe she quit. A pity, he supposed, Polly said she was struggling. But it was no skin off his nose. If she couldn’t handle the work, then maybe it was for the best.

He caught Harry’s attention and motioned with his head toward the private room. “We’ll be in the snug.”

His brothers were already lounging in the booth. John chewing on a toothpick and Arthur slinging his arms over the back of the seat.

“I’d bet- not pretty. I heard she sounds like one of those London girls who get too drunk at the clubs and take a cab here by accident.” John grinned, emphasizing each word with a point of his finger.

“No, no,” Arthur shook his head. “If people are talking, she has to be pretty.”

“You wanna place a bet, Tommy?” John turned toward him, still grinning with the pick between his teeth.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” His younger brother huffed.

“Already seen her,” Tommy answered from over his shoulder as he hung his winter coat on the rack.

“And?” They asked in unison. “Is she pretty or not?”

“Doesn’t matter what I think,” Tommy shook his head. “It would ruin the bet.”

“When did you see her?”

“Who do you think hired her?” Tommy deadpanned.

“When were you going to tell us?” John retorted.

“She’s a fucking barmaid. They’re two a penny around here,” Tommy rolled his eyes, taking his cap off and shoving it into the pocket of his tweed jacket. He finally slid into the booth beside Arthur with a sigh. “It’s not important.”

The shutters to the bar above flew open, and Harry’s head popped through.

“A round of beers for us,” Tommy waved a hand at the barkeep. “Is she here?”

“Miss Caldwell?” Harry blinked. “Uh, yes, she’s in the back.”

Didn’t quit, then.

“ Miss,” John scoffed under his breath, elbowing Arthur in the side. “She’s a Miss .” Arthur started laughing too.

“Have her serve us. Consider it part of her training.”

John particularly seemed to get a kick out of that line.

Harry slowly nodded and closed the shutters.

Soon enough, there was a brisk knock at the main door to their private room. Tommy sat closest to the door and reached for the knob to open it.

Anna stood there, gripping a steel pail filled with beer. She looked at him first, a small smile on her lips. Still no lipstick. Her hair was neatly arranged with curls to her collarbone, just as it was when he first saw her. She was dressed head to toe in dark green, save for the worn cotton apron tied around her waist. No stains on her blouse this time, either.

“ Miss,” John tipped the brim of his cap to her. Arthur chuckled beside him.

“Good afternoon,” She gently placed the pail on the table, smoothing her hands over her apron after doing so. “I’ll be right back with your glasses.”

The way she spoke, crisp and clean, each word clipped and flowing. Something wasn’t right.

When she returned, she dunked each glass into the pail and wiped the remaining droplets from the sides with a fresh cloth before serving each of them. Tommy had to stifle a laugh. What a neat and careful touch.

“Can I get you anything else?”

Tommy shook his head, still smirking, and waved a hand at her. “That will be all.”

She gave them a curt nod and stepped out of the room.

As soon as the door closed, Tommy tilted his head toward his brothers. “Who won?”

John shook his head and let out an exasperated sigh, sliding a few bills across the table toward Arthur.

“I bloody knew it,” Arthur grinned, tucking his winnings into his jacket. He clicked his tongue against his teeth and pointed a finger at his brother. “ This is your comeuppance for cheating at cards the other day.”

“Oh, shut up,” John rolled his eyes and flicked the toothpick to the floor. “I’m paying you your dues. She’s pretty enough.”

“How’d you find her anyway, Tom?” Arthur turned his attention to him, beer in hand.

“I didn’t find her,” Tommy brought his own glass to his lips and shrugged. “Polly did. She asked me to give her a job.”

“How the hell did she find her?” John’s eyes darted between the two of them. “She must be from London or something.”

“Something about a woman from church, I’m not a fucking psychic.” Tommy rolled his eyes. He could feel another headache coming on. “Ask her yourself.”

“You think she’s a whore?” John asked, earning a clap on the shoulder from Arthur. “How much, do you think?”

Another headache was definitely coming on now.

“Let’s talk about the fucking horse, and then we can speculate if she’s a whore or not, yeah?”

His brothers were fucking stupid, gawking over something new and shiny.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Tommy was the last to leave the snug, insisting that he wanted to finish another cigarette. When he was finally alone, he stepped out into the pub. The afternoon was rolling into the evening, and the sinking sun cast a gilded orange glow over the room. Upon his first glance, it looked like he was the last person left in the pub. The last person except for her.

Anna was behind the bar, her face still and serious while she wiped down a glass. It wasn’t until he cleared his throat that she looked up.

“Mr. Shelby,” She set down the glass on the bartop. “Can I get you anything?”

He shook his head. “I was looking for Harry.”

“He had to step out for a moment, there’s no more ice.”

“Ah,” He placed his cap on his head. “I’ll come back another time then. Good day.”

Tommy turned on his heel toward the door but stopped short when he heard her speak again. He glanced at her from over his shoulder.

“You can call me Anna, by the way.” She was smiling. “It’s been hard enough trying to get Harry to use my name. Always ‘ miss’ around here.”

“Noted.”

He noticed her face drop at his response, or lack thereof, rather. But just as quickly, she started smiling again. She looked away from him and smoothed all of her hair over one shoulder, not a single red ringlet out of place. She reached for the rag she was cleaning with before and went back to work.

He wasn’t sure what came over him, a sudden sense of good nature perhaps, but he decided he’d throw her a bone. He adjusted his cap on his head and turned to fully face her now.

“Harry says you’re a hard worker.”

She laughed at that. Honestly laughed. He knew it was real because it was soft at first, the sound rich and gentle until it ended with a snort. Her cheeks started to tinge pink, at the snort, he guessed. She ran a hand through her hair and shook her head.

“Excuse me for laughing. He’s too kind, really.” Her eyes darted from him to the rag in her hands, and then back to him. “I’ve been trying my best, but I think I’m making a mess of things. I’m sure the sorry state of my apron can attest to that.” She took a step back and tugged on the hem of the apron.

“Nothing on the blouse this time.”

Her lips parted slightly, no doubt surprised. And then she started laughing again. “You noticed that from the other day?”

He shrugged, the ghost of a smirk quirking at the corner of his mouth. “Hard not to.”

“I hope you’ll never have to see me in such a mess again. For both of our sakes.”

Tommy glanced at her hands. Still smooth.

Clearing his throat, he tipped the brim of his cap to her. “Anna.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

That night, while he sat awake in bed, staring at the wall, he thought of her laugh. It was unbecoming for her, he thought.

John was right, she did seem like one of those London girls who got too drunk and mosied on up here by accident. She certainly spoke like one and carried herself like one, too.

The whole thing was unbecoming.

He did think she was pretty, though. He wouldn’t tell his brothers that.

[litttle-annie-adderall]

Vanish Into My Arms (WinterSpider) - Part 1

Summary: At the end of the Infinity War, Thanos has won the war. Everyone who dusted away find themselves in a strange place with no idea where they are. While everyone frantically searches for their friends and family, Peter spots a familiar face in a soldier he fought in Germany a few years ago. Torn between his need for a familiar face and his loyalty to his mentor, Peter makes a decision that will affect the rest of his life.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 10.8k (damn that’s long, I'm sorry)

A/N: Hey y’all! I’ve been working on this for excessively long time, so I hope you like it! It’s four parts total and the whole thing is written, I just have to edit and post them! This story will NOT be forgotten! I’ve posted this on my AO3 (@lynnnieee) as well!

Story on AO3

Slight spoiler for clarification: There is no real way for them to tell time, but I tried to insert people (mainly Peter) guessing how much time has passed using their internal clocks to make the timeline easier to follow because the time between intervals is not equal.

Italics are also mainly Peter’s thoughts.

Thank you and happy reading!! (:

The moment the dust of what had just been Mantis blew away into the wind, Peter knew it was coming for him. What it is exactly, he's not sure, but his spider-sense is burning hot inside his core and causing a small ringing in the back of his head. Drax disappears next, and Peter feels something looming over him. As if Thanos is standing directly behind him and Peter can't move to escape because it's already too late.

"Steady, Quill," Tony says. His voice catches Peter's attention and he looks at his mentor. Please don't take Mr. Stark too, Peter desperately thinks as Quill fades away before his eyes.

The invisible dark cloud behind him is drawing closer and his sense turns the volume of the ringing up to loud alarm bells, begging for him to move or fight or do something, anything, to hold on a little longer to his body.

Tony turns to Dr. Strange, who seems entirely too calm about his impending fate as he says, "There was no other way," before he disintegrates into thin air. Peter feels a sob bubble up in his throat. He's running out of time and he doesn't know what to do.

"Mr. Stark," He chokes out, his balance suddenly beginning to tilt. He twists his wrist, staring at his palm, but it doesn't matter because his body is going numb and he can't feel it anymore. "I don't feel so good." Peter desperately looks to Tony for help.

"You're alright," The man tries to reassure him, but Peter can tell he's afraid too.

"I don't... I don't know what's happening," His feet start to wobble, "I don't know..." His legs give out and he collapses into Tony's arms, clinging onto the inventor for dear life, "I don't want to go," He says, a small sob escaping his mouth.

Tony drops to his knees, holding onto Peter. "Mr. Stark, please, I don't want to go, I don't want to go," Tony sets him down on the ground. The boy is lying on his back in the sienna-colored dirt and mud on the ground, his head leaning against a rock. Peter can plainly see the terror in Tony's eyes as he continues to ramble on, "I don't wanna go."

But it's over too soon, it's too late for him. The dark presence is circling around his body and his spider-sense doesn't know what to do, doesn't know why he's not moving or running away or reacting. His whole body shakes and he knows he's started to dust. He looks at Tony one last time and whispers, "I'm sorry."

Peter shifts his gaze from Tony, choosing to look up at his last view of outer space, something that before this afternoon was only a thing of his dreams, before his vision is overtaken by a bright flash of white light and what's left of his body is blown away by the wind.

~~~

Peter feels like he's been thrust into another dimension. As if every atom in his body was ripped apart only to be forced back together seconds later. He sucks in a huge gulp of air and tries to steady himself before opening his eyes.

By the time he actually peels them open, he realizes he has no idea what he's actually looking at. The sky above him is a misty yet bright orange, like the sun rising at dawn, and the only thing he can see for miles is the Downtown New York Public Library in front of him. He blinks a few times, trying to reassure himself that that can't possibly be what he's looking at.

"Peter?" Someone calls from behind him. He whips around to search for the voice when he suddenly freezes. Standing in front of him and leaning against a pastel yellow old-fashioned car is a man in a worn brown zip-up jacket with a red flannel underneath.

"No," Peter breathes. This can't be right, he thinks, looking in all other directions for any sign of what's going on. But the library, the car, and his Uncle Ben are still the only things there.

"I've missed you, son," Ben says, a small smile forming on his lips.

"Uncle Ben," Peter feels the tears falling down his face, "Y-You're not really here, right? You're just my imagination?" Peter tries to convince himself this is all some crazy dream, but he's having a very hard time believing himself as the man begins to approach him.

"I'm here, Peter, I'm here for you," Ben stops a foot away from him, waiting for Peter to come to him.

And with those words, Peter can't take it any longer. Tears start pouring from his eyes and he throws himself into his uncle's arms, holding on for dear life. "I've missed you so much," He cries into Ben's shoulder.

"Oh, Pete, I've missed you too, but it's okay, you're going to be okay," He tries to calm down his nephew with a gentle smile on his face.

"How are you here? What even is here?" Peter pulls back slightly, whipping his eyes with the back of his hand. He sees the expanse of orange nothingness over his uncle's shoulder, "Where are we?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't give you all the answers right now," Ben sighs, keeping a firm grip on the boy, "We don't have very much time to spend together."

Peter's heart stops, "What do you mean?" He suddenly pulls back and really looks at the details around him. Uncle Ben's car, Ben's clothes, the library...No, this can't be happening again. "N-No, you don't mean...?"

"Peter-"

He covers his mouth with his hand, "No, y-you die today, Uncle Ben!"

"I know."

"You know?" Peter shakes his head rapidly, too many thoughts appearing in his mind all at once, "How can you know? It-It... You can stop it! You have to!"

"No, I'm afraid that's not-"

"You have to!" Peter explodes, "I-I can stop it! I won't go to the fight, I-I won't let him get away this time, I can stop it! I can save you this time, right Uncle Ben?"

"Peter," Ben says quietly, placing his hands on Peter's shoulders to steady him, "You can't stop it. It's in the past and it's already happened."

More tears shine in Peter's eyes, "But that's why you're here, right? For me to make things right? To let me save you?"

"No, Pete, that's not why I'm here," Ben whispers, wiping away the boy's tears with his thumb, "I'm so sorry, but we can't save each other this time. You can't save me from the past and I can't save you from this place."

"But why do I need to be saved? I don't even know where I am," Petter mutters still trying to wrap his head around the feeling of being in Ben's arms again.

Ben grins at him, "I'm just here to tell you that no matter what happened then, and no matter what happens from now on, I'm so proud of you, my boy. I'm so proud of all that you've become, of all the people you've helped and of the person you've grown up to be."

Peter gapes at his uncle before whispering, "You know that I'm Spider-Man?"

"Of course I do, son," Ben chuckles with a small wink, "I know a lot more than I'm supposed to be letting on."

Peter doesn't really understand what that's supposed to mean, but he doesn't care. "I love you so much, Uncle Ben," He sniffles, "We miss you so much."

"I miss you both more than you'll ever know, but everything's going to be alright, okay, kid?"

Peter starts to feel slightly dizzy and his spider-sense is buzzing like crazy inside his head again. He looks up at Ben in disbelief, "I'm gonna dust away again, aren't I?"

"I'm afraid so, Peter. But remember what I said on this day?" Ben holds him in place as if he's trying to hold him in this place for as long as possible.

"With great power comes great responsibilities," Peter recounts, "I've been trying so hard to listen to you, Uncle Ben."

"And you've done an amazing job. You're going to be just fine, Peter. This is your way station to the future and you know I wouldn't lie to you. Just remember to always see the good in people, because you never who you'll find a home in. I love you, my son." The smile on Ben's face is the warmest thing Peter's seen in a long time and he wants to cry all over again.

Peter can barely process the words he's hearing as the ringing in his head grows increasingly louder and his legs go numb. "You're my what?" He tries to ask but it's too late, he's out of time again. And this time around, it's the darkness that takes him away completely.

~~~

Peter knows he must be conscious again when he feels a throbbing yet surprisingly dull ache in the back of his head. His fingers feel wet as they lie beside his body on the ground and he groans, his eyes flickering awake again. Above him, he sees the same bright amber sky he did when he was with Ben. A part of him is tempted to run in search of Ben again, but he knows he won't be here. With his Parker luck, that would just be too good to be true.

He slowly sits up, cringing at the pain it causes to his head. He carefully places a hand on the back of his neck and rubs the base of his skull. The ground beneath him has a thin layer of water resting on top of it, and he can't quite tell if it's yellow sand or something else under the liquid. His fingertips swipe against the ends of his hair and he realizes it isn't wet even though he was just laying down in the water. He swirls his other hand in the pool, but it simply rolls off his hand instead of sticking to his skin.

That's when he notices that the dirt that had caked up on the Iron Spider suit during the battle with Thanos is gone. His entire suit is as clean and sparkling as it was the day Mr. Stark gifted it to him. "What the..." Peter mumbles to himself, before finally looking up at everything else around him.

There are thousands of people scattered all around him, and the amber landscape stretches on forever, just like it did with Ben. He feels like he's looking into a mirror reflection of another mirror, but it never ends and the number of people just keeps expanding. He watches on as more and more people keep materializing out of thin air. Some people are hugging each other, lots are crying, and many are wandering around aimlessly, probably looking for their loved ones.

Peter quickly brings himself to his feet and scans the crowds for any familiar faces. Logically, the Guardians and Dr. Strange should be around here somewhere, Peter thinks, but he doesn't see them anywhere. Peter's eyes nearly bulge out of his head when a grown man walks past him, one with head-to-toe blue skin and a long, thin tail sticking dragging in the water behind him. He does a double-take before quickly looking closer at the people around him. People being a loose term in this circumstance, but he's pretty sure that's a lion with her baby cub far off to the right. Peter's mildly conflicted between trying to get a closer look and running away for fear of being eaten.

Peter mostly sees humans surrounding him, or at least what he assumes are humans, but could truly be a life form from any other planet, he supposes. Just as he turns around, the biggest butterfly he's ever seen (at least a three-foot wingspan!) swoops down over his head and flies off into the distance.  The never-ending orange light continues to stretch out behind him in this direction now as well. The library and the car are gone, but they've been replaced by a large brown pavilion, made out of what seems to be wood, but Peter has yet to see any trees here, so he knows that can't be possible, right? Then again, if aliens are here and he saw his dead uncle, anything is possible, right?

Leaning against one of the pillars of the large gazebo-like structure is the only person Peter sees that doesn't look frantic or scared. The tall man with long brown hair has his arms crossed over his chest and is staring up at the new sky. His face is pretty emotionless, but Peter can tell there's a hint of remorse under all that brooding. His face isn't what catches Peter's attention though, it's his left arm. It appears to be... glistening in the amber light. Is he in heaven? Is he dead? Jesus?

Peter quickly shakes that thought away, telling himself how stupid that is. He can't help but walk towards the man anyway though. He's stunned with the realization that the man in front of him is The Winter Soldier. He freezes, not knowing what to do now. On the one hand, he's never officially met the man except for that one time two years ago when they briefly fought in Germany, but he's sure that the Winter Soldier has more important things to remember than him. Though that's honestly the least of Peter's concerns, really. He's completely aware of exactly what Tony thinks of the man and Peter can't help but wonder if his mentor would feel betrayed if Peter tried to be friendly with the soldier. Peter's not afraid of the soldier, he knows he's strong and could probably beat him if he ever needed to, but the Winter Soldier did murder Tony's parents, after all. Peter should probably avoid him because of that, right? Logically, he understands that the soldier was being mind-controlled and probably went through more torture than anyone else involved in the situations, but would that matter to his mentor? The person who's spent so much of his time training him and just hanging out with him? Giving him more family besides May?

But on the other hand... the soldier is familiar. Peter has no idea where he is, or if he's even alive, and even though he doesn't know this guy much beyond his name and scattered bits of his past, he knows Captain America trusts him, and honestly, Peter really wants something familiar right now. He wants someone from home, even if that's as vague as someone who lived in Brooklyn 80 years ago. He wants someone who knows him, even if they maybe don't remember him, and someone who knows about the ordeal with Thanos. Peter scans his surroundings one last time, looking for anyone else he might see that he knows. But at last, he takes a big deep breath and walks the final six feet over to the man, pushing down the small ball of guilt in his head and hoping that Tony would understand.

As Peter gets closer, he senses the cold energy the man lets off. His stance seems to command people to back off with arms tightly crossed over his navy bulletproof vest, the gold lines on his new, black, metal arm shining under the light. His lips are pressed together in a tight line, but Peter notices the depressed yet foreboding look in his eyes and wonders if maybe he's actually a little scared underneath his brooding exterior.

"Um, Mr. Winter Soldier, sir?" Peter says, trying to sound confident. The man turns his head towards him and raises his eyebrow. Peter shuffles his feet, "I'm-I'm Peter, Peter Parker. You probably don't remember me without the, um, the mask, but we met, briefly, in Germany a few years ago," Peter bites his lip and rubs his palms together nervously.

The soldier stares at him for a moment before giving the slightest of head nods, "You're that spider thing, yeah?"

Peter nods quickly, "Y-Yes, that's me, sir."

"Right," Bucky eyes the boy warily, "Just call me Bucky, kid."

"Okay, Mr.- uh Bucky," Peter's lip twitches with a small, nervous smile because holy shit, Bucky Barnes remembers him. "Do you- uh, have any idea where we are?" Peter glances around to make sure nobody is listening to them before leaning in and whispering, "This is because of Thanos, right?"

The sadness Peter sensed in Bucky's face earlier returns to his expression, glazing over in his eyes, "Yeah, this is Thanos," Bucky stares back up to the sky, "He killed Vision in Wakanda, took the mind stone, snapped his fingers, and that was that. Here we are." He shakes his head, putting on his blank stare again, "As for where or what here is, I'm not sure."

Peter tries to suppress the fear bubbling up in him, "Are we dead? Have you found anyone else from home? Any of the other Avengers?" If they are dead, Peter can only hope and pray once more than Mr. Stark isn't here. Or Aunt May, or Ned, or... or anyone he loves. He'd rather be on his own than have all his loved ones be dead along with him. Plus, maybe he'll find some company in Bucky.

But if they are dead... that means Uncle Ben and his parents should be around here somewhere, right? Although, Peter thinks, all this nothingness isn't exactly what he pictured when he thought about Heaven. And if this was Heaven, shouldn't God be around here somewhere? He could imagine everyone growing very bored very fast here. Does that mean it's Hell then?

Bucky raises his eyebrow at Peter again, this time as he sarcastically looks around for other people they know. Peter snaps out of his lull and cringes, "Right, sorry, dumb question."

"Thanos wanted to wipe out fifty percent of all living things in the universe, so I have no idea if we'll find people we know even if they are here. I already see lotta aliens though." Bucky states, looking out into the ever-growing crowds.

"B-But, I mean, I sort of know you, and I found you, so it's not impossible, right?" Peter all but begs him. Ben may not be here, but if Aunt May or Ned or Mr. Stark are, he needs to know about it. He has to be able to do something to find them.

His desperate hope seems to catch Bucky off guard as the man finally makes eye contact with him. "Kid," He sighs, "I don't know how far out this place goes, whatever it is. It could be like finding a needle in the universe's largest haystack."

"But we can't just give up!" Peter nearly yells, catching the attention of a blonde woman in the pavilion before she quickly turns back to the crying child in front of her. "I mean, what if Captain Rogers is here, wouldn't you want to find him?" Peter asks, the desperation once again slipping into his tone.

Bucky presses his lips together into a thin line, "I don't know what you want me to tell you. If you want to run off and go searching for your family, be my guest, but you and I both know that this place probably goes on forever and you might not find your way back to this point if you do." Bucky sighs again, glaring at the ground, "Steve's not here, and it's not like I've got anybody else to search for, so I'll be here until I see a reason to be somewhere else."

"But how do you kn-" Peter tries to ask, but the glare Bucky gives him tells him to stop, so instead he just nods, "Okay," Peter mumbles. Maybe he'll take Bucky's advice and just wait it out here until the chaos dies down. If the chaos ever dies down.

He sits down into the water and leans his back against the pillar. Staring at Bucky's black boots for a second, he realizes that they almost seem to rest on top of the water instead of plunging beneath it. He dips his fingers into the clear liquid again but it rolls off, the same as when he woke up. "You know, for being water, this stuff is pretty non-absorbant." Peter blurts out, catching Bucky's eye.

"What?" Bucky questions, frowning down at the boy on the ground. Peter's not entirely sure if Bucky's asking about the water or more so just what's wrong with him, but Peter decides to assume the former.

"Yeah, look," Peter cups a small amount of the liquid in his hand and dumps it right on top of his head. Bucky's eyebrows both shoot up and now he's definitely asking himself what's wrong with Peter, but to Peter's point, the water slides right off his hair like oil, leaving dry strands behind. Bucky slowly sinks down to sit beside Peter, his interest peaked. Peter smiles to himself at the small victory, trying to push away the thoughts of being stuck here forever to instead be in this moment with Bucky.

Bucky cups his hand full of the water and spills it onto his cargo pants. Sure enough, it slides right off in tiny droplets, rejoining itself with the pool on the ground. "Are you sure it's water?" Bucky asks quietly, swishing his metal finger around in the curious liquid.

"Huh," Peter considers it, "I didn't think of that. Guess we should give it a try, right?" Before Bucky can respond, Peter cups more in his hand and brings it to his mouth.

"Wait, don't-" The soldier goes to stop him, but it's too late, Peter's already drinking it.

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and determines, "Tastes like water."

Bucky gives him a blank stare before saying, "That literally could have been anything and you drank it anyway." Peter shrugs, and Bucky rolls his eyes, but actually chuckles, "You remind me of Steve."

"Really?" Peter smiles, thinking what a compliment that is to receive from Captain America's best friend.

"Yeah," Bucky smirks, "You're small and careless."

Peter's grin grows, "So like, pre-serum Captain America?"

"With the strength of post-serum Steve." Bucky nods, then hesitates before adding, "Couldn't believe when you'd caught my punch like it was nothing that day." Some of Bucky's old Brooklyn accent slips into his voice, and it makes Peter feel much more at home than he thinks it should.

Peter looks at Bucky's new vibranium arm, the metal fingers still dipped below the water's surface. "I thought your arm was the coolest thing in the world, still kinda do, if I'm being honest." Bucky gives him such a sincere smile that Peter has to look away in fear of blushing too hard, "Mr. Stark would never admit it, but I think he got a lot of inspiration from the dynamics of your old arm for the new Stark line of prosthetics."

Peter instantly regrets bringing up the genius when Bucky's smile drops. "So, you're actually really close with Stark, huh?" He asks, seeming so unsure of himself for someone who is often thought of as a terrifying assassin. Peter nods but winces at the guilty look that spreads across Bucky's face. "Right," Bucky whispers to himself, staring off into the distance. Peter recognizes from experience the look in his eyes and realizes his mind is probably drifting into dangerous waters.

Although he'd like to reaffirm to Bucky that he doesn't judge him based on his past because that wasn't really him, his loyalty to Tony gets caught in his throat, stopping the words. He shakes his head, sensing Bucky would rather move on from the topic anyway. "Do you like the new arm better? Where'd you get it anyway?"

Bucky's eyes dart back to the boy next to him who's staring at his prosthetic like it's one of the seven wonders of the world. "It's a hell of a lot lighter, that's for sure," Bucky explains, his jaw still tight, "I used to get serious backaches from lugging around the old one. The princess of Wakanda made it for me after Steve took me there to get my mind fixed."

Peter's eye bulge out of his head, "You lived in Wakanda? That's so awesome. I've seen King T'Challa on the news since they opened their borders and it looks so amazing. The technology is just so, so groundbreaking and unbelievable  there!"

Bucky's expression finally softens and he smiles at Peter's ramblings, "It was very beautiful. You'd probably like Princess Shuri, I think she's around your age and she runs all the technology in Wakanda."

"Did you know her?" Peter gasps excitedly.

"Not much," Bucky grins thinking back on his home in Wakanda, his first real home since Brooklyn, "She was real busy and I was content on my farm. I never knew I loved animals so much until the king gave me a small cottage and some land to raise livestock."

Peter can't believe that the Winter Soldier seemed so fulfilled living on a small farm raising animals, the simple life. But he deserves that happiness after all he's been through. "Did you have a favorite kind of animal to raise?" Peter asks as he tries not to let it show on his face that he's just realized Bucky's been ripped away from his home once again.

"Goats," Bucky chuckles, "Man, I loved those goats." He doesn't seem sad about the loss though, Peter thinks he looks happy to reminisce about it. He probably hasn't gotten to talk about it much.

"You have goats? I love goats, I've always wanted to see one!" Peter exclaims.

Bucky quirks his eyebrow, "You've never seen a goat in person?"

Peter shakes his head, "Nope, I've always lived in the city and there aren't a whole lot of farms or petting zoos in New York City." Peter's eyes light up with an idea, "Hey, maybe when all of this is over, I can come and visit your goats in Wakanda!"

Bucky smiles at Peter's hopefulness. If Thanos has all the infinity stones, they both know they're probably not getting out of this. They'll be here for the rest of their lives like the Mad Titan intended, but they could both use something peaceful to look forward to right now. "Yeah, sure, Peter."

"Promise?" Peter holds out his pinky, a nervous half-smile gracing his face.

Bucky chuckles, gripping it in return with his own pinky, a soft warmth humming through his body at the touch, "Promise."

~~~

It didn't take long for Peter to figure out that pretty much no one knows anything about where they are, and it's become abundantly clear there are few ways to get any definitive answers to the hundreds of questions floating around. It's not entirely hopeless though, Peter acknowledges, as they've all collectively learned some useful things since the day they first arrived.

First of all, Peter realized right away that there is no way of telling time, as the burnt orange light never grows any darker or brighter, it's always just as they found it. If he had to guess based on only his internal clock, Peter would say it's been about a week since he first woke up. With his extensive scientific knowledge, however, he deduces that time could be moving faster or slower here than it does on Earth, much like how time works significantly differently in the quantum realm. Therefore, any time predictions he can make are essentially useless to everybody but his own state of mind, as Bucky likes to remind him when the spiderling pesters him with questions about the time.

"How long do you think we've been here?"

"No clue. God, I hope this stupid light dulls at some point."

"But if you had to guess? How long has it felt?"

"Jesus, Peter, I don't know. A dozen hours at the most, maybe?"

"Okay, good I guess. I was thinking half a day so at least we're thinking the thing."

"Even though it doesn't really matter because we'll never know if that's accurate."

"Right, yeah, of course. Were there already a lot of people here when you woke up?"

"Not really, it was pretty sparse."

"Were you alone for long before I found you?"

"...Peter."

"I know, I know! We have zero way of knowing and all that, but do you think you were?"

"No, not really."

"So, if you had to guess-"

"I get the feeling you're going to make me."

"-How many hours would you say?"

"Although this is just my interpretation and it means nothing-"

"Of course, of course."

"-Less than an hour."

"Wow, so really not long in the grand scheme of things."

"Sure."

"Hey, Bucky?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"I haven't seen anyone else rapidly materialize for a while now."

"Me neither."

"How long would you say it's been-"

"PETER!"

The other findings of their new world were also pretty immediate. Whatever sort of beings this place has turned them into eliminated their need for food, drink, and the use of a bathroom. That was actually quite a relief to discover because this realm is sorely lacking all those things. Days had passed (possibly) when people began to talk outside their small groups and everyone agreed that they were not hungry or thirsty, but also didn't have any insufficiencies in strength or energy because of it. The elderly were stronger than they had been in their life forms and those who had been ill were healed upon arrival.

As for sleep, it's unclear to Peter whether they still need it or not. He has rested and fallen asleep a couple of times, but more out of boredom than real exhaustion. Aside from being able to feel things and each other, it's almost as if they're ghosts.

What Peter noticed the humans around him struggled with the most is the lack of privacy. With only about a dozen large pavilions discovered so far in the seemingly never-ending orange expanse, privacy was nearly impossible to achieve. The other species were an entirely different story though. Most of the other human-like species wanted their privacy as well, while all the animals or species without the ability to communicate vocally with humans seemed to have no problem with having no place to take shelter. Because none of them were hungry, the prey learned they had no reason to hide from predators.

A rather recent development came in the form of King T'Challa and his goal of reuniting people and families as best he can. Peter guessed it was around five days in when he and Bucky first caught sight of King T'Challa and his sister, the princess of Wakanda, Shuri. Bucky saw them first and was quick to drag Peter along with him to meet them, but Peter's sure Bucky's intentions for bringing him along had more to do with not wanting to lose sight of him in the crowds and less about introducing the boy to his royal friends. T'Challa had apparently awoken with his sister fairly close by. The King explained that most of the people around them were very distressed and alone, and so he and Shuri have taken up the job of helping people find with their families ever since. While it's been a struggle, but he has a plan in place, starting with collecting last names and finding multilingual beings of any species willing to help him out. For the humans T'Challa can communicate with, he's done his best to explain the Thanos situation, in the hopes that it will soon become common knowledge among the intelligible species here.

Aside from those baseline discoveries, that's been... it, really. Peter has yet to find any sign of his family or friends and therefore spent his whole week with Bucky. They can't do much because as beautiful as it is, this remains a pretty dull place. So, he and Bucky just talk, take breaks to stare at their new sky for some quiet, and occasionally sleep out of boredom. As far as companionship goes though, Peter thinks he could have done so much worse than Bucky. He'd actually argue that Bucky's company is the best he could have. The soldier was understandably stiff at first, but Peter did his best to stay positive and make witty remarks whenever he can, just like he does as Spider-Man. Bucky eventually started quipping back instead of just staring at Peter. His jokes were so subtle at first Peter almost missed it, but they soon fell in sync with each other. Even though it hasn't been that long, Peter thinks he's defintiley made a true friend.

"I think I'm gonna take the Iron Spider suit off, it's getting too hot in here."

"Do whatever you want, kid."

"...Um, Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"Why do you have a second fully equipped Spider-Man suit under your state-of-the-art Spider-Man suit?"

"Oh! Um, yeah, I forgot about that."

"Did you now?"

"Stop laughing, I can explain!"

"I'm waiting."

"Well, you see, Mr. Stark said to save the wizard and so I followed the Squidward alien who captured Dr. Strange onto the donut ship, but then as I webbed onto the side of it, it started flying back into space-"

"..."

"-And the higher it went, the less I could breathe, obviously, because I was on the outside of the ship. Did I already say that? Whatever. Anyway, Mr. Stark flew up in his Iron Man suit and sent the Iron Spider suit to me to cover me over my original Spider-Man suit as I passed out and fell off the ship so I could breathe again and you know, live-"

"..."

"Then he tried to send me back home by releasing the suit's parachute but I webbed myself onto the donut again because I figured he'd need the back up in space."

"..."

"So, yeah. Two suits."

"...Did you ever save the wizard?"

"Yup! Wait, no. Well, yes from Squidward. But then he died again when Thanos snapped us all away. He should be around here somewhere. The Guardians too."

"So, are we deciding that being here means we're dead then?"

"Maybe, I'm not actually sure what to call this."

"I'm gonna go with being dead. That would be a relief. Life is too fucking stressful."

"You know, I think you'd be great in the 21st Century, Bucky."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah! Your dark and self-deprecating sense of humor means you would totally love all the internet memes that most Baby Boomers think are sad and not funny. Depression and suicide jokes are almost always sure to get a laugh. And since you're from the G.I. Generation, you can prove that it's not only young people who love dark humor and think Boomers are the worst!"

"Alright?"

"One day, I'll teach you all about meme culture and vines (R.I.P). You'll definitely love it!"

"...That sounds great, Peter. I can't wait."

Peter loves learning about what Bucky's life was like before HYDRA took him and hearing stories about Captain America back in the 40s and as a child. Peter was initially surprised when Bucky expressed an equal amount of interest in hearing about Peter's life in Queens. Peter told him all about Aunt May, Ned and MJ, Flash's teasing (Bucky wasn't quite so amused by that one and Peter changed the subject at the dark wash of anger that passed through Bucky's eyes), how he became Spider-Man, and when Tony Stark recruited him.

He tries to keep the topic of Tony short any time he comes up because of the heartbreaking guilt that Bucky poorly hides whenever the man is mentioned. Although he feels like a bad person to have thought this, Peter thinks Bucky's noticeable and sizable guilt has actually lessened his own guilt towards Tony. Knowing that Bucky feels genuine regret and sorrow for the actions he was forced to do proves to Peter that he's not the man his mentor believes him to be. The small ball of fear of disloyalty will always be with him, but it affects Peter less every day as he grows more and more attached to Bucky.

That's sort of becoming the problem, actually. Peter's feelings of friendship slowly morphed into something more, something, well, not so friendly. More often, he finds himself watching Bucky's lips move when he talks or his skin growing hot under his suit when Bucky lets him examine his prosthetic arm and their faces are so much closer than usual. Their lazy, sleepy talks before they fall asleep are Peter's new favorite thing. Bucky running his hand through Peter's hair while the boy lets out all his worries, Peter comforting Bucky when the man wakes up from nightmares, and the pair fast asleep while laying all over each other. The whole thing has turned so oddly intimate that Peter hasn't felt this safe with someone since he was a young kid.

"...And I know King T'Challa is doing his best to find her, but we're all each other has left. Before Mr. Stark came along, it had just been her and I, and sometimes Ned, for the longest time, ever since, well, nevermind. I honestly don't know if it's better to have her alive and well in New York but all alone or have her stuck here but with me. She's lost so much and I don't want her to think I'm gone too."

"I wish I knew what to tell you, Pete, but I'd bet that if I were her, I'd rather be here with you than on Earth alone right now."

"How did you know Steve wasn't here?"

"Before you woke up here, did you maybe... go somewhere else first?"

"Did you?"

"I-I was back at the Stark Expo in the 1940s, sort of, but Steve was there. Not the Steve everyone knows and loves, but my Stevie. My scrawny and tiny Steve that wanted to fight every bad guy in the world even though he couldn't even breathe right."

"What did he tell you?"

"He told me about Thanos, he told me... he told me that I was going somewhere he couldn't follow, but that I wouldn't be alone. I teased him about being my guardian angel. Guess he saw you coming, didn't he?"

"...Ben called it a way station, I think."

"What?"

"The pit stop between Earth and here. I saw my Uncle Ben who died a few years ago. He said that he was my way station to the future."

"Is that all he said?"

"He told me he was proud of me, and-and all I could do was cry and tell him over and over how much I missed him. He was exactly how he was the day he died and it was all my fault and-and he's proud of me, but he shouldn't be because I was petty and wanted revenge and now he's dead because of it."

"Peter, I'm sure it wasn't your fault."

"It is, Bucky! It is! I entered a contest to win money so I could buy a car to impress a girl, but after I won the guy wouldn't pay up and I had to leave empty-handed. A minute later a mugger came in a robbed him and I could have stopped him from getting away but I just let him go to make the guy who owed me money feel just as cheated as I did. I guess the robber needed a car because he tried to take Ben's but when Ben wouldn't let him get away, so the robber shot him. Don't you see, Bucky, it's all my fault! Ben got killed for being the only person to do the right thing."

"I know how it feels to think like that Peter, but it wasn't your fault."

"But-"

"No, just- hear me out, okay? Yeah, you did a stupid thing, but I know that if you had even the suspicion that that guy wanted anything more than a crook's money, that he ever thought of killing someone, you never would have let him get away. I know it'd hard to admit to yourself, but you know that too. You're a good person through and through, kid. Okay? Can you trust me on that one?"

"Only if you trust me that you're a good person inside too."

"That's a whole other story, Peter."

"No, it's not. You didn't get a choice in the things they made you do and you're not a bad person because of it."

"I just make people's lives harder by being in them. I mean for god sakes' look at Steve. Even when he was small and sick, Stevie's always been the stronger one between the two of us. He adapted so well to the modern world after being pulled out of the ice and he was doing so good because he found people to be there for him, no matter how much he insists he can do everything alone. He had a home and a team and then I came along he lost everything he loves all over again, just like the ice took from him. I don't deserve to ever have the kind of family he did. I never got much choice in whether or not I was alone, but the more I lived, the more I realized that it's just better for everyone if I am."

"Bucky-"

"No, I'm sorry, you can pretend I didn't say all that. I didn't mean to go off on you like that."

"Don't be sorry, Bucky. I want to help you if I can because you help me. You know, during my moment with Ben, he told me to see the good in people because I'll never know who I'll find a home in. I think he saw you coming too, Bucky, like maybe Steve saw me. Steve did what he did for you because he loves you. I'm sure he'll never regret that. I wouldn't if I were him."

"Thanks, Peter, but I'm not worth all the effort and loss. He deserves so much better. You do too."

"I don't think that's true, you're definitely more than worth it. Nobody deserves to be put through what you've gone through."

"Maybe, but maybe I didn't deserve to be saved either. I should have just been eliminated. I shouldn't have gotten that choice to be alone or not."

"You're not going to be alone anymore, Bucky."

"How can you be sure I'm what your uncle meant?"

"Because I see how great you are, and how good you are. I wouldn't be here with you if I didn't believe that. Steve wouldn't either. You're going to have the choice to be with people in your life because you deserve it."

"People aren't exactly lining up to hang out with someone who's done the things I've done."

"...Peter, what're you doing?"

"Getting in line. I got here extra early to make sure that I was first."

It wasn't until one day Peter awoke half-hard with his head in Bucky's lap that he realized his feelings might be becoming a problem. But at the same time, he doesn't know how to stop his feelings because it seems impossible not to be attracted to this god-like man, especially now that Peter really knows him.

So, Peter knows he's definitely fucked. Surely and thoroughly fucked.

~~~

"Peter!" The boy jolts awake at the sound of someone distantly screaming his name. He picks his head up off of Bucky's legs, blinking a few times to allow his eyes to adjust once again to the sudden bright orange light. He squints into the distance, searching for where the voice is coming from.

"Good morning," Bucky's low morning voice grumbles beside him. Peter tries not to stare as Bucky runs a hand through his long hair and then stretches his arms in the air, his shirt riding up and exposing the skin around his waist.

"Yo, Peter!" They both hear again, but this voice is definitely different from the first. It's a little deeper but slightly more feminine sounding.

Peter bites his lip and forces his gaze away from how gorgeous Bucky looks when he wakes up. "Any idea who that might be?" Bucky stands, his eyes also scanning the crowd as he reaches a hand out to Peter, pulling him to his feet as well.

Peter starts to shake his head, he has a suspicion of who it is but doesn't want to get his hopes up. But then his eyes suddenly lock on two figures pushing past people and charging towards them. His expression breaks out into a beaming grin, "Oh my god," He whispers to himself.

Bucky chuckles beside him, "Friends of yours?"

"Ned! MJ!" Peter hollers and starts waving his arms around like a lunatic, the duo now running even faster towards him.

Peter whips around to Bucky, his face inexplicably bright, "I never thought I'd see them again, Bucky, can you believe this!" He's told Bucky all about his fanboy best friend and the snarky girl from the academic decathlon team. He's practically bouncing up and down and all Bucky can do is laugh fondly at Peter's excitement before the teens reach them.

"Peter!" Ned shouts in his face, nearly knocking Peter over with the force of his hug. MJ trails behind him, her arms crossed and a smirk on her face. "I can't believe you're here!" Ned yells into Peter's ear again.

"Ned, you're here!" Peter exclaims, pulling away from the boy's hug to see his face, "You're really here!" He turns to look at MJ and beams at her too, "MJ, oh my god, this is crazy." He doesn't even know what to say. He's so excited to see them again, and Ned gives amazing hugs, but he's also so sad that they're stuck here and not at home with their families, safe and definitely alive.

"Hey Peter," She raises an eyebrow teasingly looking at his clothes, "What? Were you caught in the middle of LARPing or something?" Peter glances down at his Spider-Man suit and his face burns. He hadn't considered that all these people would either think he's a complete nerd (which, to be fair, he is) or realize that he's actually Spider-Man.

He bites his lip nervously, "Oh, um-"

Before Peter can finish whatever bullshit explanation he was trying to think of, Bucky buts in with, "The hell is LARPing?"

Ned just now seems to notice the man beside his friend and his eyes grow to become the size of saucers, his jaw falling open. MJ, on the other hand, simply shrugs, "Live-Action Role-Playing. It's when dorks go to a park or something dressed as superheroes or fantasy characters and pretend to be them."

Bucky looks from the girl to Peter's suit and snorts, "Yeah, Peter, tell her all about what you get up to on the weekends." Peter playfully glares at the man's smirk.

"Well, you see-"

"Dude!" Ned shouts, grabbing Peter's arm, and cutting Peter off once again. "That's the Winter Soldier," He says in shock as if Bucky isn't standing right there and can totally hear him.

"Uh, yeah, it is," Peter twiddles his thumbs together, getting nervous about the whole situation. This day has already been much more eventful than the past three weeks -- Peter's best guess relative to the number of times he's sleep for a 'night' -- have been, and he doesn't really know how to explain to his best friend why he's been hanging out with Bucky all that time instead of looking for Aunt May and his friends.

Bucky's smirk has drooped a little at the mention of his HYDRA name, but he opens his mouth to reply anyway when someone shouts, "Buck!" His face drops and Peter can see the hint of fear in his eyes. Peter anxiously looks around for who's calling the man, nervous for Bucky's sake that it might be Steve. Peter knows Bucky would find a way to make this whole situation his fault and never forgive himself if Steve was stuck here, meaning he's possibly dead, too. He believes Bucky when he says Steve isn't here, but since they've never actually looked...

But thankfully, Peter sees King T'Challa approaching them all with the birdman Peter met the same day he met Bucky in Germany.

Bucky grins tauntingly when Sam rolls his eyes with a smile, "Man, of all the people I could get trapped in here with, it had to be you, didn't it?" Bucky gives him a one-armed hug, clapping his hand against Sam's back.

"It looks like you're stuck with me for all of eternity now," Bucky grins smugly.

"Hello again, Sergeant Barnes, Peter," T'Challa nods to them, "I found this one," He gestures to Sam, "many hours ago, and he asked me to lead him to you."

"Aw, did you miss me?" Bucky teases him, earning a shove from Sam.

"Looks like it's a day for reunions all around," Peter says softly, smiling at his friends. He anxiously turns to the king, "Have you heard or seen anything about my Aunt May?"

T'Challa smiles sadly, "I'm sorry, I've been keeping an eye and ear out for a May Parker, but I'm afraid I have not come up with anything as of yet."

Bucky places a comforting hand on his shoulder and a slightly forced grin slips onto Peter's face, "That's okay! I appreciate you keeping a watch for me," And Peter means it, mostly. Not finding May is a good thing, it might mean she's not here and she's at home, safe and sound.

"Speaking of, no sign of Steve yet? I haven't come across him and T'Challa said he hasn't either." Sam asks Bucky.

"No," Bucky shakes his head, shoving his hands into his pockets and avoiding eye contact, "And I get feeling Steve would have made his presence known by now, so I'm willing to bet he's not here."

"Yeah," Sam nods, releasing a breath, "That's good though, right?"

An uneasy silence fills the air for a moment before Shuri claps her hands together, "Well, we must get going, enjoy your reunion with one another. We will see you another time. Boys," She nods to Sam and Bucky, "Spider-Boy," She nods to Peter, the smug smile on her face telling him she's just trying to tease him.

"Spider-Boy?" Sam asks, narrowing his eyes at Peter before realization dawns on him, "Oh, kid from the airport who likes to talk?"

"That's the one," Bucky smirks at MJ as Peter's face darkens to the color of a tomato.

"So, hold on," MJ raises a hand, "You're actually Spider-Man?"

She doesn't seem all that surprised, or maybe she's just too good at hiding it, but either way, Peter shrugs, "Sort of?"

She barks out a laugh, "Oh man, is Flash here? Wait until he gets a load of this, he's gonna shit his pants!" Peter can't help but laugh along at the thought, especially considering what a huge fan he is. It's not an uncommon occurrence to see Flash walking around Midtown in a Spider-Man shirt, some of them even homemade.

"Well, this is a weird group of people to find you with, Barnes," Sam teases, "What the hell happened here?"

Bucky rolls his eyes, "The kid found me right when we got here and it's been just us until these two showed up just before you did." Peter catches his eye and didn't even know it was possible for his face to blush even harder until Bucky winks at him.

Sam squints his eyes and points at Ned, who currently has his head in his hands as he frantically looks between the two Avengers with his mouth open, "Uh, is he okay?"

Peter sighs, pressing his knuckle to his forehead, and praying to God that Ned won't embarrass him in front of Bucky, "Yeah, he's fine. He just needs a minute to lose his mind over being in the presence of two Avengers. Hold on one second, I've got this," MJ snorts as Peter pulls her and Ned to the side to talk. Peter glances back at the pair, hoping he's moved his friends far enough away that the soldiers won't hear them.

"I can't believe you've been hanging out with the Winter Soldier this whole time!" Ned gasps, clearly trying to keep his voice down, but ultimately not really succeeding.

"He was the only face I recognized when I woke up and I thought he might know what was going on," Peter tries to brush it off, "How did the two of you find each other?"

MJ shrugs, "I don't know, I was just sitting in one of those wooden things people watching for who knows how long when basically he fell on top of me, yelling my name." She rolls her eyes again, but Peter thinks she looks a little fond of Ned's overenthusiastic antics.

"I was excited and I tripped," Ned gives him an embarrassed smile, finally taking his off of the Avengers, "She was the first and only familiar face I've seen until now," Ned then starts rapidly poking Peter's arm, "But literally who cares about that, tell us about him," Ned gestures over to where Bucky is standing with Sam. To Peter's surprise, even MJ looks mildly interested.

"Oh, right, that," Peter stares at the ground anxiously, kicking his foot into the water and splashing some around, "I don't know, we just talk, maybe sleep if we get bored. He tells me old stories about Captain America. It's just... nice. It's really nice." Peter grins to himself, subconsciously biting the corner of his bottom lip.

"Oh my god, Peter," MJ says sarcastically, "you're into him, aren't you?"

"What?" Peter and Ned yelp at the same time as Peter snaps his head up, staring at her with wide eyes. Ned's head jerks towards Peter, anxiously awaiting an explanation, and Peter just can't believe she caught on so fast. He was being subtle!

"How did you- No, I don't!" Peter frantically exclaims.

Ned dramatically gasps and repeatedly swats at Peter's arm, "You do!"

"Idiots," MJ rolls her eyes then shoots the boys a smirk, "But for real, I thought this place was crazy before, but now Peter Parker is Spider-Man and he's getting it on with the Winter Soldier? Like alright, holy shit."

"Shh!" Peter shushes them both, "First of all, we are not getting it on. And second, keep your voice down, the whole world doesn't need to know that I have an embarrassing crush on Bucky!" He whisper-screams to his two friends, the look on his face screaming sheer terror. He can't stop his intrusive thoughts from asking what would happen if Bucky overhears them and gets weird out by what a freak he is? What if he ditches him because of it?

"Technically, it's only half the world," MJ interjects but Peter pretends not to hear her.

"I especially don't want Bucky to know!" Peter glances back at the man quickly. His arms are crossed and a small grin plays on his lips while he listens to Sam animatedly tell him something. He doesn't seem to have heard them, but with his enhanced hearing Peter can't know for sure. He tries to take a deep breath to call himself down, but it doesn't feel like he's working.

Ned tips his head like he's still trying to wrap his brain around the whole situation, while MJ just squints at him with a simpering smile, "Please, he's totally into you too. I've only been around him for like five minutes but he's already being so soft on you. He's been glancing over here literally every other second with just this look of sad concern or longing or whatever." She shakes her head smugly, "For a brainwashed assassin, he sure gets whipped easily."

Peter groans and buries his face in his hands, "MJ, it's really not like that. He's... he's wonderful, and he's not brainwashed anymore, but he definitely doesn't see me like that. He probably just thinks I'm some stupid kid he has to keep an eye on." Peter's always known that to be true, but it still makes his heartache at having to admit it out loud.

MJ, however, doesn't seem to be buying what Peter's selling at all. She raises an eyebrow accusingly and places a hand on her hip, "Are you trying to tell me you guys haven't been hanging out just the two of you for the past three weeks since we got here, and that you haven't been having a good time?"

"No, but MJ that doesn't mean-"

"And has he pushed you away and not been letting you be your overly touchy self? Does he complain when you lay all over him like you were when we found you?" She gives him her best are-you-fucking-kidding-me stare.

Peter squirms, thinking about the soft little smile that crosses Bucky's face when Peter touches him, "Well, no-"

"That's all I'm saying," The smirk that seems to consistently reside on her face says it all, and it irritates Peter slightly that she can read him so well. Her face brightens mischievously and she suddenly does a little wave to something behind Peter that has him whipping around at the speed of light and wishing he could crawl into a hole and die, "Oh look, here he comes now!"

~~~

Over the possible weeks that passed, the odd group dynamic between two and a half Avengers and two and a half regular high schoolers worked out much better than Peter initially expected it would. Bucky and MJ got on like a house on fire resulting in a never-ending storm of sarcastic comments. Ned loved hearing all the stories Sam would tell about his time in the military and as the Falcon with the rogue Avengers and Sam was more than happy to share them.

As glad as Peter is to have his friends back with him, he still finds himself crawling back to Bucky when he misses home or wants to feel as if he's wrapped in one big safety blanket. Just by sitting next to Bucky Peter feels more at ease and less anxious. He tries not to think about his feelings for the soldier, but sometimes it's hard when the intrusive thoughts in the back of his mind tell him that maybe Bucky is feeling the same way. He obviously hangs out with Sam a lot now, but any time Bucky's going to sleep or just needs a moment of silence, he goes to seek out Peter, and Peter's insomnia-ridden mind always has a field day keeping him awake with every possible imagination of why this might be.

Like right now, for example, when MJ, Ned, and Sam are all passed out in a pile under the roof of the pavilion, Bucky and Peter sit in silence at their go-to spot on the edge of the structure. Peter tossed his legs over Bucky's and leaned his head back onto a wooden beam. The man beside him traces the lines on the spider suit near the boy's ankles and Peter can't help shiver slightly at the warm and fuzzy tingling that it sends through his body.

"Y'know, I really miss the night," Peter blurts out as he gazes up at the intense light that is constantly showering over them.

"Yeah?" Bucky mumbles, staring intently at Peter.

"Yeah," Peter nods gingerly, "My senses get overloaded pretty fast since the spider bite and the dark protected me from that even more than my mask did, so I always did better Spider-Man work at night. It's also easier to hide at night, and all the bad guys seem to think they're invisible at night so they creep out then too." He blushes when he sees Bucky watching him ramble on with such a small, yet tender smile on his face.

"I didn't have to worry about anybody figuring out my identity because nobody ever knew I was there until I caught them doing something bad," Peter laughs quietly, "I loved the look they would get on their faces when I showed up. They always underestimated me and it was so invigorating because eventually, it would always morph into that look where they know I've got them and that-"

"-They're fucked," Bucky whispers. Peter locks his eyes with the Bucky's and smiles nervously. With the super soldier's enhancements, he wouldn't be surprised if Bucky could hear his heart pounding out of his chest right now under the soldier's ardent stare.

Peter weakly nods and digs his teeth into his lower lip, "Do you think we're ever going home?" He breathes, unwilling to shake his eye contact with Bucky. His skin begins to burn under the passionate scrutiny of Bucky's darkening eyes. Peter has caught him staring at him like this a few times before over the recent days, but it usually happened when Peter was only just waking up and Bucky's always quick to catch himself and look away before the boy had time to ogle him right back. He's surprised Bucky hasn't turned away and tried to pretend he wasn't looking this time, but Peter can't seem to draw his attention away from Bucky long enough to think properly on that right now. The look in Bucky's eyes triggers more sensations in Peter than he's ever felt all at once before, but more than anything, the feeling of want bubbles up inside every inch of his body.

Bucky opens his mouth to respond but then quickly hesitates. He rolls his tongue carefully between his lips and says lowly, "Sometimes I'm not sure I want to go back."

Peter's breathing hitches and he slowly shuffles even closer into Bucky's personal space. Bucky doesn't hesitate to wrap his arm around the small of Peter's back to hold him in place. Peter's voice unintentionally drops even quieter and he's unable to stop the obvious wanton from slipping into his tone, "You don't? Why?"

Bucky's eyes flick swiftly to Peter's lips before they train back on the boy's eyes, full of more unrestrained fervor than Peter's ever seen Bucky allow himself to show, "You know why."

All at once, their lips are harshly pressed against one another's and Peter has no clue who leaned in first but he can't find any part of himself that cares. His body is flush against Bucky's chest and the kiss is already so intense that he begins to feel lightheaded as his weeks-long need is finally starting to feel sated. Bucky swipes his tongue along Peter's lower lip and the boy moans into the older man's mouth as he parts his lips.

Peter doesn't have much experience with any of this, but he hopes that what he lacks in knowledge he makes up for in enthusiasm because good lord, he's only been kissing Bucky for less than a minute and he already wants to do it forever. He presses his hand against Bucky's cheek, feeling the stubble (that never seems to grow out into a full beard in this place) tickle his palm. His other hand finds Bucky's shirt and he clenches his fingers around the material to reassert his space in reality, but that must have triggered Bucky's own grip on reality because he's abruptly pulling back from Peter and moving to the side, away from the boy.

Peter whimpers at the loss and opens his eyes in flash, instantly picking up on the hint of shock in Bucky's eyes that he's clearly trying to hide. "Fuck," Bucky mutters as he breathes heavily.

Peter hurries to catch his own breath, "Bucky?"

"I'm sorry," Bucky mumbles, "I-I shouldn't have..." He shakes his head and stands up, facing away from Peter.

Peter scurries to his feet and takes a step toward him, "Why... why not?" Peter reaches out and gently wraps his fingers around Bucky's right wrist. "I wanted-"

"Stop," Bucky growls, effectively cutting him off. He huffs a sigh and looks over his shoulder at Peter, "We can't."

Peter chokes down the tears rolling up in his throat and burning his eyes, "Is this-... Am I-..." He struggles to find the right words that won't send Bucky running, "Do you not want this?" He settles on, his voice much more vulnerable than he intended for it to be.

Bucky's eyes finally meet his again, "Peter..." He says desperately, but then his eyes turn hard and he turns his head away again, killing any hope Peter might have had. "We just can't, okay?" He doesn't wait for an answer as he swiftly dislodges his wrist from Peter's grip and stalks off.

Peter's lip wobbles and he bites it hard to keep it still as he slumps back against the wooden pillar in their spot, watching Bucky walk away from him. A tear slides down his cheek and he finds himself questioning whether or not Bucky will actually come back to him.

TO BE CONTINUED...

A/N: So I know that each soul stone experience is supposed to be based on a specific memory like Thanos’ thing with little Gamora, but for this story, since so many people are all in one landscape, I just sort of shaped it around the vague clip from Infinity War and the pavilions are basically inspired by the structure Gamora stood in, even though I know that’s not a universal memory. It’s not super relevant, but I hope that clears my intentions up a little bit!

As far as I’m aware, they never mention what happened specifically with Uncle Ben in the Tom Holland Spider-Man universe, so for the parts talking about Uncle Ben, I just used what happened in the first Spider-Man movie with Tobey Maguire, imagining Ben as being around May’s age from the MCU spider-man movies.

[seafleece]

beau’s asleep.

she sleeps heavy, for a monk. for an ex-pos-i-tor, or maybe it’s exactly how an expositor sleeps. tired of paying attention to everything, intent on taking in nothing, on being dead to the loud, bright world for just a little while. jester doesn’t really have anything to compare it to— doesn’t want anything to compare it to.

she doesn’t really remember when beau started taking her hair down to bed.

and, you know, it probably started the same way things start between people. blamed on other circumstances, the first time— probably she’d just finished washing blood out of it, or something— and just. never quite changed back. it’s separate, at first, and then the break in routine becomes the routine. becomes meaningful, in secret, until missing it would mean missing a whole lot more, too.

more like she braids beau’s hair sometimes, when they’re staying somewhere that has good washtubs or, dare to dream, proper bathrooms— beau likes baths, that’s something no one else knows, never passes up the chance to wash off the grime of travel. she’ll come back to the room looking pleased and sleepy, like a cat, and she’ll sit at the foot of the bed while jester brushes out her hair all silky and braids it loose.

more like she sometimes steals beau’s hair ribbons and ties them on her horn so she gets to be the one to put it back up in the morning, and beau pretends to be mad about it but never really is. because she could just wait until jester is asleep and steal it back, but she doesn’t, because beau sleeps heavy.

beau sleeps like she’s not afraid jester will look at her with her hair down and fanning out over the pillows. which she does, sometimes.

it’s not the first time beau sleeps with her hair down that jester starts writing questions, but it’s the first time jester notices she always does it.

so the first question she writes down is about that, but after a while it sort of just answers itself.

other ones aren’t so easy.

—

why do you like yasha?

why are you only nice to me?

what’s kissing a girl like?

do you want to have kids someday?

you said you thought of nicodranas when obann tried to charm you. what does that mean?

you said you didn’t want to hurt me. why don’t you think you leaving would hurt me?

—

have you ever loved anyone else?

maybe it’s because i only had momma and the traveler for so long— and bluud, i guess— but i have never really loved someone like this before, you know?

did you love tori? it’s cool if you did, i promise i’m not jealous. maybe it’s better if you did, if you had practice— you have to learn stuff while you’re loving someone, i had to learn that, too. it takes a while to figure out why you feel that weird heavy thing in your chest all the time, even when they’re not around. like swallowing a magnet or something. i’ve never swallowed a magnet before, caleb says it’s really dangerous and could rip a big hole in your stomach, but i think that’s what it would feel like.

maybe you knew all that stuff before me, because you had practice. i’m sorry it took me so long, but i get it now. i wish i knew right away, that that’s what you meant on the boat. or did you not know you meant it then, either?

veth says you told her a while ago, and that you sounded really sad. i’m sorry you had to be so sad about it. i keep thinking about you being sad all that time and wishing i could go back and tell you it was going to get better. i guess that’s what love is though, huh? wishing you could undo the stuff that hurts somebody even if doesn’t make sense, because you just don’t want them to hurt at all.

i guess i wanted to write this because i want you to know that someone loves you like that, you know? i hope someone loved you like that before, at least once. there’s stuff i don’t know about that happened to you, so i can’t wish it didn’t happen yet, but if someone loved you then, then they probably wished for it. but maybe you can just tell me, if you want to. i’ll always want you to.

i dreamed about nicodranas again. i know you want us all to be together after this and we will be, i promise, but i dreamed that it was just us in the house on the beach—and nugget, of course. it was night and all the windows were open so everything smelled like the ocean, and you had your hair down. that’s how i knew it was just us, because your hair was down. i used to wonder why it was only me who saw you like that, but i get it now. there’s stuff about yourself you only want to give to certain people. i’m glad you want to give that to me.

i hope i’m brave enough to tell you all this. maybe i won’t be, but at least it’ll be here for you to maybe read, if i’m too scared. momma wrote a lot of letters to dad while he was away and she never sent any of them anywhere, not even now that she knows where he is, but maybe i’ll be different. i always wished for someone like dad was to momma, but i think you’re better. it just took me a little while to realize.

beau’s asleep.

she says something into the pillow and the arm she has slung into jester’s lap curls, tries to pull her closer, but jester’s sitting up against the headboard.

after a moment, the eye jester can see opens, casts a glance up at her. she can only see half of beau’s face but the smile that curls onto it is plain, sunny.

“— drawing?”

“what?” she smooths a strand of hair from beau’s face, lingers to wind it around her finger and tug softly.

beau turns to look at her fully, blinking slow and lazy like a cat. her arm tightens across jester’s lap again.

“what’re you drawing?”

her voice is like crumpled paper, thin and raspy.

“oh,” and she looks down at the page, her cramped handwriting. “nothing, just writing a letter.” her free hand releases the strand of hair to curl along beau’s cheek, and she turns into it, eyes closed.

“mm. who’s it for?”

“you. i’ve been working on it for awhile. i just finished.”

“can i read it?”

beau’s eyes open, a facsimile of alertness, but her eyelids do that funny flutter she knows means she’s trying not to fall asleep again.

“in the morning,” jester says, heart skipping, and she closes the book with a soft snap. “go back to sleep.”

when beau’s arm tries to curl again she lets it, lets herself be pulled against beau’s side and stay there. she thinks about the end of a story, she thinks about a house in nicodranas, on a cliff, footprints in the sand, and then she falls asleep.

[theirlesserchronicles]

Testimony from the Battle of Le-Koro

I’ve been watching my latest visitor for an hour now. He’s a Toa of Air and he wears a Miru; he’s not Lewa, though, this turns out to just be a coincidence. He hasn’t told me his name, but he has told me he was a veteran of the Toa-Dark Hunter War, and a survivor of a raid into Vortixx from a few centuries ago. He was stationed there, though he still won’t tell me what secret mission he had there. Maybe he’ll never tell me. And he lost his left arm in the Battle of Le-Koro, which is not that great a loss compared to the hundreds of fighters who lost their lives that day, going up against the Rahkshi unleashed upon them.

Finally, he turns to me to speak, and I begin jotting down what he says now which I shall immortalize later.

I was part of the wave that served as support for Toa Takanuva. The plan we had been told to follow centered around how we’d first be sending a wave of Matoran in Boxors since they’d be targets more than anything. They wouldn’t be in danger, though; the next step of the battle strategy was for those Matoran to use a special switch installed under the seat of their Boxors so they would be launched up into the air and out of danger as the army of Rahkshi inevitably got caught up in attacking the now-empty metallic carcasses. But he who controlled the troops of Rahkshi, the dreaded Makuta, he showed just how much of a worthy opponent and strategist he was. We felt a gust of wind fly across the battlefield, and the switches under the Boxor seats became oxidized. The Matoran who tried to flip them open couldn’t, and they remained imprisoned in the cockpit as they were killed. At least it was quick, the Rahkshi used disintegration powers.

The trick in our battle plan, then, worked against us, ironically. We couldn’t see through  the onslaught of air, so we assumed the plan had worked and that the Matoran had been launched to safety, and so we pushed ahead with all of our might. This second wave consisted of about twenty of us Toa led by Toa Takanuva, a dozen tamed Rahi natural to the fauna of Mata Nui proper, and shoulder-mounted disk launchers that our good marksmen Matoran carried.

And you never noticed, in all honesty, that there was something odd about the Boxor plan?

No. As far as we could tell, the plan worked. Our orders were to wait a few seconds until we heard the chorus of switches clicking and then that we should launch into the action. I can’t speak for the other ones, but I assumed that the pilots had been launched into the air and were able to find places to land. We didn’t hear any screams, any warnings. It makes me think Makuta might have redirected the air in order to change the acoustics of the field. Maybe something was being kept from us, is something I always thought during those battles; the Makuta and his minions could read and control minds, so who was to stop them from using our own fighters and strategies against us? You could take off our masks, now we had other treasures in our minds.

We pushed ahead. We didn’t look back. This is how we had been trained as Toa at the outset of the Great Darkness, and this is how we had later trained the various Matoran who joined our ranks. You might follow the code of Kopaka, but our strategies called for swift action, not based on thought, but on disorienting our enemies. And we were incredibly effective at this, since those few seconds in which Makuta’s orders were sent to the minds of his minions were the perfect moments to strike. So no, I never would have been able to tell.

The Rahkshi blazed past the Boxor graveyard pretty quickly, and half the Toa were tackled to the ground. Red eyes lit impossibly bright and half of my comrades vanished. Now I heard the screams of fear, but they were coming from in front of me and behind me, and I realized, almost calmly, that we were about to be massacred. As a Toa, you prepare to die. I’ve joked that this is one of the later parts of our training, that our destiny includes this big asterisk that reminds us that we didn’t have the choice to be in a line of work with a high mortality rate.

So what went wrong?

I learned what my priorities were.

Here the Toa again paused. I let him stay like this, knowing that in those silences the speaker most feels the need to burst open with what they want to say. It wasn’t an hour this time, but he took the better part of fifteen minutes to resume his telling of the battle.

Toa Takanuva is a hero. His tales are told everywhere, and I could see he showed heroism in every battle. He would give up everything, even for the most insignificant of creatures. And he almost did that during the battle. A Toa of Water’s concentrated attack knocked down a Po-Matoran and a Rahkshi, and the Rahkhshi got up faster than the Matoran. And I saw, as did Toa Takanuva, the creature preparing to fire its lazer at the unfortunate victim. I knew what was going to happen because heroes will always act the same way. Toa Takanuva leapt to where the Matoran was. He was spreading himself wide, making himself, and not the Matoran, the target. But Toa Takanuva, on purely tactical terms, was infinitely more important to us all. So I beat him there. I pushed Toa Takanuva to the side, out of harm’s way. The beam struck the Matoran. And because I hadn’t been fast enough, also my arm.

I can see your face. I know you told me you’d remain impartial and non-judgmental, but it’s fine if you’re judging me. I know I was a coward. Many Toa are. It’s why so many of you all seem to be taken aback when a Toa turns evil or turns a failure, because even we’re conditioned to never entertain the notion that we also have our own failings. But we do. I do. So I saved Toa Takanuva and lost an arm, and a soldier, in the process. Judge me.

He was quiet again, and finally accepted the food I offered him. He spoke a bit more of some other fights, of his experience using elemental abilities, and then he set off. I can’t remember if he thanked me. But as I expected, when I asked him where he was going, he would not tell me. Maybe he never could.

[dog-day-morning]

WHEN DOGS CRY

Ezekiel 3:1-4

3 Moreover he said unto me, Son of man, eat that thou findest; eat this roll, and go speak unto the house of Israel.

2 So I opened my mouth, and he caused me to eat that roll.

3 And he said unto me, Son of man, cause thy belly to eat, and fill thy bowels with this roll that I give thee. Then did I eat it; and it was in my mouth as honey for sweetness.

4 And he said unto me, Son of man, go, get thee unto the house of Israel, and speak with my words unto them.

The children of God thirst for the word of God, but there's a drought in the land for the Devil comes to steal that word from you. Behold, the days come, saith the Lord God, that I will send a famine in the land, not a famine of bread, nor a thirst for water, but of hearing the words of the Lord: And they shall wander from sea to sea, and from the north even to the east, they shall run to and fro to seek the word of the Lord, and shall not find it. We are a rebellious house who have walked in the ways of sin forgetting the will of God. The Father was the same today as He was yesterday. Our temperament, and faith can change with the current of the wind or something we may perceive as being better than the Father’s love which is what Satan wants you to believe. When Yeshua fasted for 40 days and nights Lucifer came to Him while He was weakened thinking He could get the Son of God to forsake everything for his deception.

Luke 4:6-8

6 And the devil said unto him, All this power will I give thee, and the glory of them: for that is delivered unto me; and to whomsoever I will I give it.

7 If thou therefore wilt worship me, all shall be thine.

8 And Jesus answered and said unto him, Get thee behind me, Satan: for it is written, Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou serve.

How can you give me something you never owned? Derek Chauvin is appealing his court conviction without a lawyer, and no money. This is Satan’s downcast people, the wicked kingdom of Babylon that's falling apart in front of the whole world. Satan has no kingdom, we’re taking back everything they've taken from us including our dead, and slaughtered children. The drought will end with a Jubilee celebration of God's people who have been without, and the curses shall fall upon those who have persecuted us from the beginning. If you thirst your souls will be quenched by the waters of God, His Spirit that will enable the downtrodden to overcome and overwhelm ourselves including our enemies, the inner me; YOU!!! Satan will not go down without a fight, he's unrighteous, salty, and afraid of the judgment that's coming to this earth that will consume our open enemy without us having to lift a finger.

The dead in hell shall be given back to the Lord of host that is the army of Israel who will fight the enemies of Israel as we have been a homeborn slave to all of the Earth. We have bowed down as a broken people to all men with no one to care for our plight save our Lord. To see people defend the institution of WS is a cancer to your spiritual process that needs to be fixed before the Day of Judgment comes to claim those who are puffed up before the Lord. The missing white woman syndrome is a frustrating reality we witness throughout the year. People should be concerned about their missing loved ones, but you must realize who are the one’s going missing at an alarming rate. Becky, and Mai Ling do not have more precedent over Tanisha, or Quantasia yet they are the ones the public is asked to search for more than a Black child or woman. Asian nail salons that partake in sex trafficking on the sly use Black women as well as Asians against their will to facilitate their male, and female patrons. There are no Happy Endings for these women and children. God loved Israel when we were without fault, and could do no wrong before Him while the rest of the world compounds, and exacerbates our issues. If he didn't love us He wouldn't reprove or chastise us. In order to reign with Christ you will suffer with Christ. We suffered at the hands of our Egyptian Brothers including Esau while Esau revised the world’s history to favor him which is an abominable sin. We were children who sucked milk from our mother’s teets. Now the Lord has been feeding us meat to strengthen our spirit for what lays ahead .

Ezekiel 16:4-13

4 And as for thy nativity, in the day thou wast born thy navel was not cut, neither wast thou washed in water to supple thee; thou wast not salted at all, nor swaddled at all.

5 None eye pitied thee, to do any of these unto thee, to have compassion upon thee; but thou wast cast out in the open field, to the lothing of thy person, in the day that thou wast born.

6 And when I passed by thee, and saw thee polluted in thine own blood, I said unto thee when thou wast in thy blood, Live; yea, I said unto thee when thou wast in thy blood, Live.

7 I have caused thee to multiply as the bud of the field, and thou hast increased and waxen great, and thou art come to excellent ornaments: thy breasts are fashioned, and thine hair is grown, whereas thou wast naked and bare.

8 Now when I passed by thee, and looked upon thee, behold, thy time was the time of love; and I spread my skirt over thee, and covered thy nakedness: yea, I sware unto thee, and entered into a covenant with thee, saith the Lord God, and thou becamest mine.

9 Then washed I thee with water; yea, I throughly washed away thy blood from thee, and I anointed thee with oil.

10 I clothed thee also with broidered work, and shod thee with badgers' skin, and I girded thee about with fine linen, and I covered thee with silk.

11 I decked thee also with ornaments, and I put bracelets upon thy hands, and a chain on thy neck.

12 And I put a jewel on thy forehead, and earrings in thine ears, and a beautiful crown upon thine head.

13 Thus wast thou decked with gold and silver; and thy raiment was of fine linen, and silk, and broidered work; thou didst eat fine flour, and honey, and oil: and thou wast exceeding beautiful, and thou didst prosper into a kingdom.

He said thou wast exceeding beautiful. For every woman who looks at the European standard of po, broke, and boney as a standard of beauty don't. Love your thick lips which they pay thousands of dollars a year to get, and maintain. Breathe through your flaring nostrils that the Father gave unto you in order to run, and never grow weary. Love your wide curvaceous hips, big thighs, and thick, lovely hind they pay a Dr. in Atlanta tens of thousands of dollars every so many years to look like Shantell from the hood who was blessed in the womb with a body they get augmented in order to try and look like hers, and by all means if you're deeply melinated with dark skin do not bleach your blessing. Melanin Is responsible for our higher intelligence, those hips, and that beautiful derriere, your brother's athletic prowess, the ability to endure the hell we've endured for these hellish 500yrs. You don't have to be darkly melinated to succeed in the world of athletics or academia. Florence Joyner Griffith set a record in the 1988 Olympics that still stands today. Katherine Johnson helped pave the way for the first American astronaut to successfully orbit the Earth. Melanin is called the God particle for a reason, it can't be duplicated or created in a lab. Thanks to cloning they can produce this element close to its essential form, but not to God’s precise design. Men have been trying to manipulate God's works through science without considering that He is Spirit. I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me. They're trying to circumvent the Father’s work carnally, that's' the crux of the problem. I said all of this to say this. They have used us like lab rats from the Tuskegee Experiment, back to days of slavery when they experimented, and operated on Black women without using anesthesia, to this day with this COVID-19, catastrophic, doomsday annihilation that got out of control, and became a global pandemic that was only supposed to affect the African Diaspora. The Chinese are first cousins to Esau. They are descendants of Japheth along with the Canaanites including the other tribes of the Earth whom Israel has blessed. I may be beating a dead horse so shoot me. This is what's coming down the pipes after God has had enough of the blood shedding of His people.

Revelation 6:10-11

10 And they cried with a loud voice, saying, How long, O Lord, holy and true, dost thou not judge and avenge our blood on them that dwell on the earth?

11 And white robes were given unto every one of them; and it was said unto them, that they should rest yet for a little season, until their fellowservants also and their brethren, that should be killed as they were, should be fulfilled.

Those of us who have been slain, and suffered on this Earth who had a relationship with Christ will receive a robe of white. People are still going to hell like the police, neo Nazis, klansmen, KKKARENS, KKKENS, your 10yr old nephew Man Man. All of those who hate, and persecute Israel and our kinsman. After God has seen enough of this world's abuse of His children, that's when you'll see the miracles, signs, and wonders that will scare the junk out of everyone's pants, skid marks and all. There will not be a zombie apocalypse. What will happen is a Nightmare on Everywhere Street. This is the war they asked for.

Zechariah 14:12-14

12 And this shall be the plague wherewith the Lord will smite all the people that have fought against Jerusalem; Their flesh shall consume away while they stand upon their feet, and their eyes shall consume away in their holes, and their tongue shall consume away in their mouth.

13 And it shall come to pass in that day, that a great tumult from the Lord shall be among them; and they shall lay hold every one on the hand of his neighbour, and his hand shall rise up against the hand of his neighbour.

14 And Judah also shall fight at Jerusalem; and the wealth of all the heathen round about shall be gathered together, gold, and silver, and apparel, in great abundance.

The Mark of the Beast. We will spoil them by taking everything they've stolen from us globally. The colonization of Alkebulan is almost over and you have to believe these truths. The West, and the Far East have colonized the continent, whoring it out for its resources giving nothing back in return except paper, ink, and dust. I don't ascribe to the faith or religious doctrine of the Sabeans (Muslims) that came from the Bible of the Hebrews. The Israelites took nothing from the Quran, it didn't exist. My skepticism makes me suspicious of the biblical scholars who claim that Yeshua went to the Far East (Asia) while on Earth to study which is a misnomer in itself, He's all knowing. He may have journeyed there, but He said I come for my people Israel, and told His Apostles to minister to them only before His final ascension. I'm not trustworthy of those who are inclined to lie about everything including the world's history that is Black history. The Bible has hundreds of books that were purposely left out of the original 66 books that revealed more truths about God's people that are in the libraries of the Vatican. They will be revealed before or after Vatican city is decimated by the Father. The truths we seek will not come from a book exclusively interpreted by men, people lie. It will come from the Lord’s Spirit. Satan's time is up, and he's trying the saints who suffer not because of his torment, but for the testimony of Christ. We have been chosen by God to lead those who have deceived the world through clever deception and manipulation. Our souls are consumed with many insecurities that were intentionally placed in our spirit by men who understood how feared we were in the Old Testament because of the anointing. They have oppressed, and suppressed our powerful anointing before the Earth with a tactical methodology that if it wasn't for the Lord it would've consumed us before man. The word of God does not separate us from the love of God, it embraces, and keeps us safe with the blood covering of His Son.

Hebrews 4:12

12 For the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any twoedged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.

Those who rebuked the word of God will have to answer to the Lord on the Day of Judgment. People in the last days are walking away from God's will like stubborn goats. Satan will lead you away from God blindly before those who'd rather believe in a lie to foster confusion, and a selfish mentality that's unhealthy for your soul. Israel. You are blessed by the Father to overcome, forgive, show a selflessness that others do not, giving of your sustenance to bless another, sacrificing for a greater cause that's greater than oneself. I tell you things that are written in the Bible you refuse to discern or cannot determine that are coming upon us. They are meant for this day, this hour, at this time. God will lead us out of the darkness into His marvelous light. Do not don't forget that this is Tribulation. Be prepared for calamities to hit us back, to back, to back, harder, and worse than the previous as a warning He's coming for His faithful. No man can judge himself worthy of the Kingdome. Pray for one another with a fervency. This will be the day of reckoning for the unrighteous who have sought innocent blood, and the provision God set aside for His children. This battle shall be fought by the Father’s host army that is not Christian?!! I worship in the Christian faith, but I desire to know the truth. I, and many of you are in search of the Lord's truths that we’ll find in the appointed season which is coming, but this battle is the Lord’s

Ezekiel 37:7-10

7 So I prophesied as I was commanded: and as I prophesied, there was a noise, and behold a shaking, and the bones came together, bone to his bone.

8 And when I beheld, lo, the sinews and the flesh came up upon them, and the skin covered them above: but there was no breath in them.

9 Then said he unto me, Prophesy unto the wind, prophesy, son of man, and say to the wind, Thus saith the Lord God; Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live.

10 So I prophesied as he commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived, and stood up upon their feet, an exceeding great army.

It amazes me that people still don't believe after what we've witnessed the last 40 or so years. Maybe it’s somewhat my fault. The Father works in mysterious ways. Man's flesh will melt inside of his loins, he will tremble in fear, and faint after witnessing hell on Earth; God's wrath. I’ll see you when I can breathe. Good evening, Elohim. 9/26/2021

[apharine]

Perfect Storm

Chapter 1 - Route 17

Pairing:  Nanu x Reader

Fandom: Pokemon

Rating:  E

Read on AO3

My writing commission info!

Summary:   Route 17's weather is always bad - but today, it's particularly awful, the usual drizzle having escalated into practically a hurricane. You had business in Po Town to attend to, but it's getting late, and it soon becomes apparent that it's no longer safe for you to be outside. You take refuge in the only place you can think of - the Po Town Police Station with Nanu - never imagining that before the night's end, things would get hot and heavy between the two of you.

                                          _____________________

You hadn’t meant to find yourself approaching Po Town at night. And you certainly hadn’t meant to show up unprepared for the weather. It always rains sheets on Route 17, after all - but usually the rain is little more than a nuisance. Tonight, it’s much more than just that. This has to be the worst storm the area has seen in a long while, you think to yourself, trying to walk on in the driving wind. Branches and twigs scatter across the path in front of you, all snapped off the trees lining the route, and lightning strikes somewhere, illuminating the world around you in an eerie flash.

Man. What was with this place? You hadn’t even had a clue that there was so much as a drop of rain brewing in the sky when you were in the Ula’ula Meadow, just a mile away. You decide to double back, get out of here and get safe and dry and warm. Your business in Po Town can wait for whenever this perpetual storm decides to settle down.

It’s not long after you about face that you notice you’re slogging through increasingly sticky mud, having to exert more and more effort each time you pull your feet up from the ground. After a few minutes of walking, it becomes clear why this is happening - you’re walking closer and closer to a flash flood, which has all but wiped out the path only a couple hundred feet away. Visibility is too low to see much further than that, but you’re certain there’s no way you’ll be able to safely cross the rising plain of water and get back to the Meadow. Even though the water doesn’t look deep, you’ve lived in Alola long enough to know that you can never trust what you think you see when it came to floods, and that currents can be much stronger than they might appear on the surface.

You sigh and turn back around. Now what? You don’t particularly envy the idea of begging to get into Po Town, then pleading with Guzma and whoever else was still there to let you stay the night in the Shady House, where you’ll be dry. That’s even if they’d allow you into the Shady House, you realize; it seems just as likely that they’ll have you sleep on the floor in that musty, graffiti-strewn Pokemon Center. The thought is unappealing, but it’s not like you have any more options, right?

A rumble of thunder echoes, and it hits you like a bolt out of the blue, just as another strike of lightning illuminates the sky.

Kahuna Nanu. He lives nearby.

You turn away from the flood, moving as quickly as you can, desperate both to outpace any rising waters and to get in somewhere safe and warm - and, of course, welcoming. You and Nanu have worked together on the whole contain-the UBs-thing for the past year, with no signs of your work stopping anytime soon. The UBs might not appear as frequently as they had at the beginning, sure, but they still come to Alola with surprising regularity. It had actually brought you and Nanu closer together than you’d expected, in much the same way that it had pushed Looker and Anabel together. Nanu had grown on you slowly; he was rough around the edges, sure, but he was the one who always seemed to have your back, who always went out of his way to get just that little extra bit of intel for you to keep you safe. He’d swept in and saved you, once, when you’d nearly lost and blacked out to a horde of UB-02. And, it turned out, he had a hell of a mouth on him, and the two of you could tease each other as good as you got. Sometimes his teasing sounded vaguely sexual to you, not that you minded; he’s older, sure, but he’s handsome. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t looked at his hands - so big and manly - and wondered what they’d be like all over you.

Not that you’d ever find out, you figure. He’s likely not interested in a young thing like you. But at the least, you’ve come to care about him and enjoy his company, and you know he’ll provide you with safe harbor, tonight.

It feels like you’re running for forever before the Po Town Police Station comes into view. Your legs and lungs are both searing with effort as you rush to the door and knock frantically, then wait with baited breath.

After a couple long moments, it becomes clear there’s going to be no response.

“Nanu! Kahuna Nanu!” You call, knocking more loudly and frantically. You announce your name, then add quickly, “Please open up!”

You can’t be sure, but you think you hear footsteps inside. A Meowth cries plaintively. You could just try the doorhandle - it might be open, even this late at night, as is common in friendly Alola, after all.

But a moment later, the door swings open, and a familiar silhouette appears, limned by the flourescent lights of the police station.

“Nanu!” You exclaim, delighted. You'd hug him, like usual, except for the fact that you're soaking wet.

“Girl,” Nanu returns, obviously a bit surprised to see you at this hour. He’s got what looks like a frozen TV dinner in one hand, and he pushes a curious Meowth back from the doorway with one of his feet. You’re a little surprised to hear him call you just girl - after your last rendezvous to exchange intel before a UB mission, you’d insisted he use your name, and he’d complied - but it seems old habits die hard.

“Can I come in? It’s awful out here,” you say, gesturing to the atrocious storm raging around you.

“It’s always awful out there,” Nanu observes flatly, arching one eyebrow. “What are you doing here, at this hour?”

“I was heading to Po Town, and the time got away from me,” you explain quickly. If he would just step aside, you could have this conversation indoors -

"So shouldn’t you be heading home, then?” He asks, and you’re genuinely not certain if he’s trying to be standoff-ish or if he’s just genuinely confused.

“There’s a flash flood down the route, and I can’t get through it safely,” you reply.

“Guess I can’t exactly tell you to just call a Charizard on your ride pager in this, huh?” Nanu chuckles. A well-timed lightning bolt streaks down toward the earth, followed by a peal of thunder, as if to emphasize his point.

“Not exactly,” you say dryly.

“Doesn’t that thing have a Lapras, too, though?” He asks, still refusing to step aside.

It occurs to you that, for as close as you felt to the man, he really doesn’t want you spending the night. The realization hurts, more than just a little, and you swallow hard, feeling your throat constrict.

“It’s a flash flood, Nanu. The waters are so turbulent, I can’t surf in that,” you manage. Suddenly, you’re very aware of how cold you are; the rain is chilly for this time of year, and the wind isn’t helping any, either. A moment of silence passes, and you shiver on his doorstep, feeling tears pool in your eyes. This wasn’t what you’d expected at all. “Please, Nanu, I know you value your alone time, and I’m sorry to intrude on your evening. But my only other option is Po Town, and…” The tears overflow your eyes, and you swipe at them quickly, frustrated with yourself. “I trust you much more than I trust anyone who’s still there.” Despite your efforts to keep your cool, your voice wavers a little; you didn’t really expect to have to practically beg for your safety tonight, and you hate feeling like such a burden, but you have no other choice. Nanu’s red eyes lock onto yours, and he holds that TV dinner still in the air, apparently a bit taken aback. Seeing that hunk of frozen junk gives you an idea, and you clear your throat, hoping that when you continue, you’ll sound confident. “If you let me stay, I’ll cook you a real dinner. Something better than that frozen junk. And I won’t bother you. I promise.”

“You’re not a bother, girl,” Nanu mumbles, stepping out of the way. “Didn’t mean to make you feel like one, or anything. Just surprised by this, is all. Come on in.”

Relief floods your chest - he’s letting you in; you’re safe - and you cross the threshold, entering the Po Town Police Station as Nanu closes the door behind you. Once you’re inside, it becomes apparent exactly how soaked you are; water runs off you and your clothes in rivers, pooling on Nanu’s floor and dripping onto his herd of Meowths below. They cry in protest, and scatter to all corners of the station.

“Oh, by the Tapu,” you breathe, cheeks flaming in embarrassment and tears prickling at your eyes again. You had just promised not to be a bother. “I’m so sorry -”

“Not your fault, girl. Don’t cry,” he adds, putting a big hand on your shoulder for a moment. “You might not be aware, but this is usually what happens when someone comes in from a storm. I’ve got a bit of experience with this sort of thing, living here, you know,” he says cheekily but playfully, giving you a lopsided smirk. You smile tentatively back, recognizing his attempt to cheer you, then glance down at yourself. Water is still streaming off you, and you’re sure that if you were to go any further into his place, you’d make an even bigger mess. Nanu seems to read your mind, saying, “Still. I’ve got to get you out of those clothes, don’t I, girl?”

Your cheeks flame even more at his words. How does he manage to say something so sexual-sounding at a time like this? Ordinarily, you’d have a good comeback, but you’re too thrown off your game at the moment, given the unexpected circumstances, so you stay silent and try to hide your face.

Nanu notices your heightened embarrassment all the same - of course he does, you think to yourself, he’s a cop, he has to notice little things like this all the time - and his smirk grows.

“Don’t go getting all excited on me, girl. I’m just going to bring you some dry clothes. Pajamas all right?”

You wish you could melt into the floor, or, barring that, turn tail and run straight out to Po Town.

“Pajamas are fine,” you say instead.

Nanu gives you some folded grey-and-black pajamas, promising you they’re clean, even if there’s still Meowth hair on them. He waves you into the bathroom to change, then throws a big, fluffy towel your way.

“Thank you,” you say, catching the towel.

“Yeah. Figure you need it. You’re soaking wet, aren’t you, girl?” Nanu replies, a crooked smile spreading across his face again. Your mouth almost drops open - he had said some flirtatious things to you before, but never anything as overt as this - but you’re mercifully able to smooth your expression over quickly.

You’re still not recovered enough to have a quick one-liner to fire back at him, though, so a moment of silence stretches out before Nanu mumbles something to you about hurrying up and not ruining his floors. You stare at him for a moment longer, feeling a different kind of wetness beginning to pool between your thighs. Despite how much he’d hurt your feelings earlier, at the door, you know he hadn’t meant to - he just had a way about him that offended people or drove them away. His teasing, that gentle touch, his quick reassurances - you know those were all his way of saying he hadn’t meant to hurt you. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t relish his teasing, especially now that it’s so overt. He’s quite the silver Ninetales, and your mind often drifted when you were around him to how experienced he was - both in life and, most likely, in bed, too…

Though it is a bit hard to take him seriously right now, you think, watching as he throws another towel on the floor and tries to mop up the water you’ve left behind as lazily as possible, just pushing the fabric around with his foot. Several Meowth think he’s playing, and attack the towel and his foot. Nanu curses, but doesn’t change what he’s doing, either, just bats them away with a shake of his leg.

You laugh, and step into the bathroom, closing the door behind you and quickly peeling your wet clothes off yourself. Even your bra and panties are soaked through; both are going to have to come off. You throw all your wet clothes in a pile, towel off as thoroughly as you can (including your hair), and step into Nanu’s pajama pants. They’re nice and loose, with a black plaid design. Nanu’s pajama top goes on next; it’s a grey t-shirt that has a big print of a round Alolan Persian face right across the chest. The idea of the kahuna wearing this makes you smile.

Before you leave, you take the towel and mop up the floor, then fold your wet clothes into the towel. Surely, Nanu has either a dryer or a clothes line you can use.

When you step out of the bathroom, Nanu’s just finishing with the floor, still using his foot to do the job.

“Thank you for these,” you say earnestly, gesturing to the pajamas. Nanu looks up at you from his work, another of those lop-sided grins spreading across his face. “What?” You ask, fighting down the urge to be embarrassed. You could never say for sure if it was his demeanor, his Interpol training, or those unusual red eyes, but Nanu had a way of looking at people intensely, as if he could read everything about them if he just tried hard enough. Which, you remind yourself, he probably could. For a lot of people, that kind of intensity was strongly off-putting. It had made you nervous around him, at first; by now, it mostly just made you embarrassed, as if you’d done something wrong whenever he looked at you like that.

“Didn’t expect you to be so cute in those, is all,” Nanu chuckles unexpectedly, turning to pick up the towel he’d used on the floor. Your head reels - Nanu thinks you’re cute?! More specifically, he thinks you’re cute in his pajamas?! - but you hardly have a moment to think about it, because he approaches you, one arm outstretched. “Give me your clothes, and I’ll go throw all this in the dryer. Should be good to go by tomorrow.” You comply with a mumbled thanks, unable to meet Nanu’s crimson eyes. He doesn’t seem to mind or notice, though, as he simply moves past you and says, “Be right back, girl.”

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t call me girl anymore,” you blurt, suddenly irritated by the nickname. You’re not a girl, you’re a woman, and you have a name, besides. If he’s going to tease you the way he has tonight, he can at least use it.

“You got a better nickname in mind?” Nanu calls as he walks away, several of his Meowth following him.

“Well, no, but -” you call, about to remind him that your name would do just fine, but a door slams as he enters what must be the laundry room. He’s probably out of earshot, and you’re not likely going to get anywhere with this anytime soon.

Not that it mattered, really. What mattered most was that you were safe and warm tonight.

A Meowth cries from the kitchen, lazily pushing something off the counter. It lands with a clatter; when you shift enough to see what it is, you realize it’s Nanu’s frozen TV dinner. You walk over to pick it up, reminding yourself that you’d promised him you’d cook him a real meal tonight in exchange for letting you stay.

Quickly, you pop the frozen meal back in the freezer, then start looking around the kitchen to see what ingredients Nanu has that you can use. His pantry is somewhat spare, but there’s plenty of cans in here, including some canned mixed vegetables and bean shoots. Not perfect, but you could maybe make a stir fry out of them. You pick up the can and, on a whim, decide to check the expiration date, just in case.

They expired four years ago. You pull a face and put them back in the cabinet, quickly leafing through the other cans to see if they’re all just as bad. Many are - some are, astonishingly, worse - but some are, by some miracle, still good.

“What are you looking for, girl?” Nanu’s unexpected voice makes you jump, and you stand up, holding the unexpired cans in hand.

“Something to cook you some real food with,” you answer. Nanu frowns, one hand in his pants pocket, and opens the freezer door with the other.

“Why?” He asks, procuring the TV dinner once again. “This not to your liking, princess?” Before you can reply, a smirk spreads across his face.

You realize what he’s thinking almost immediately.

“Don’t you dare -” you start, half-teasing, half-serious, but he’s Nanu, and he absolutely does dare.

“Princess is a better nickname than girl, wouldn’t you say?” He grins at you, then has the audacity to try it out. “Princess?”

“If having an issue with a spam-and-pineapple frozen dinner that’s barely a step above Meowth food makes me a princess, then so be it,” you tease him back, trying to maintain your dignity.

“Good. Sounds like we’re in agreement, then,” Nanu laughs.

“Did you know you have some stuff in here that’s been expired for four years? I think there’s one that’s six,” you add, doing your best to ignore his remarks. You pull the offending cans out and pass them to him, pulling a face as some dust and slime from the oldest can gets on your fingers. “That’s super gross, Nanu.”

To your surprise, this time he’s the one who doesn’t have a quick comeback, instead inspecting the cans himself. When he realizes what you’re saying is true, a blush rises to his cheeks.

Huh. You didn’t even know Nanu could feel embarrassment.

“Nobody asked you to clean my pantry, girl. If you think it’s gross, just leave it alone,” he mumbles, suddenly surly.

You feel unexpectedly sorry for pointing out what was obviously a little bit of a sore spot for him.

“Well, I promised you I’d make you a real dinner as a thanks for letting me stay,” you say, trying to shrug it off. “Just trying to find some stuff to cook with, you know? Besides, I don’t want you to accidentally eat the wrong thing and die one day, or something.”

Nanu snorts at this, but puts the frozen dinner back, then throws the expired cans in the garbage.

“Well, help yourself to anything in there that you can use,” he says, then adds, with an infuriating smirk, “princess.”

[darth-does-stuff]

its ramble time. also yeah this is gonna be p long (hence the word - rambles) and prob talking a lot about patton and janus because i havent talked about them much and i have IDEAS

(also i know i want remy to be involved somehow but i havent figured out how yet. suggestions welcome ghjghjgs)

so thomas and logan are elves, roman remus and virgil are magic users (witches warlocks wizards whatever the word is lmao), remus specializes in wind magic, roman in fire, and virgil in weather. 

the magic virgil uses is often called chaos magic and in order for something to be generally classified as chaos magic, it needs to be unusual/rare, chaotic (duh) or unpredictable, and destructive. (these classifications might change as i think on them more). wind magic is largely argued upon whether it is chaos magic or not, seeing as how it is largely unpredictable and can be seen as destructive, but it doesnt fit the bill with the first one, leading to the arguments. same with fire magic, but they said it was too common for it to be chaos magic. virgil having weather magic means that he can create storms, sandstorms, generate lightning, windstorms, and also able to control (or rather ‘bend’) rain. of course, there are drawbacks and limitations, adding to the fact that virgil has a very hard time controlling his magic and harnessing it, he is not op dw. magic is also very much tied to emotions btw

also ro re and vee have two moms and they are a lesbian couple sorry i dont make the rules

elven lore and shit time - while gold is rare in many places in the fantasy land (i still have yet to decide on a name), in the elven land (i have not decided names for each section either lmao) iron and steel are actually harder to find than gold. gold still holds its own worth, but iron and steel are generally regarded as superior in worth than gold, which is why many nobles possess the material. and ive already explained the left eye crest thing with the elves, their left eye has a shape or crest to it along with a color that glows slightly. the glow can be dimmer or brighter depending on their emotions at the time. logan has a diamond shape to his left eye and a leaf green glow to it, which also happens to be his eye color as well. thomas’ is a heart and rainbow color and glow, while his actual eye color is an almond brown. ill discuss appearances in another post btw. anyways, the elven lifestyle is the most similar to humans, having a battleschool, its system nd shit, etc. although it does differ in terms of ‘rulers’. the humans have a monarchy while the elves rule through a council of 9. (an odd number so there arent any ties) logan uses both a sword and a bow as his weapons of choice. thomas was forced to go to battleschool so he basically just dips as soon as he can after teaching logan what he knows and becomes a healer because HEALER THOMAS 

PATTON AND JANUS TIME PATTON AND JANUS TIME PATTON AND JA

 patton is one of the merfolk, who (in this au) are a species that have two forms. their mer form, where the lower half of them is the mer tail fish tail what the fuck is it called. anyways the color of pattons tail (wtf is it dude) is a desaturated light blue. he has these like ??? spikes?? is that the word? jutting out from his forearms. (at the very least pointy things) and he will not hesitate to use them as weapons. yeah he’s a feral boy. he has some spots of scales on his upper body but they are pretty scarce. in his human form, he just looks like a human i dunno what you expected lmao. in the water his eyes are a really potent blue while on land they are much duller. he can also breathe underwater regardless of the form. patton also cant really will himself to either form, if he wants to be human form he has to be on land and vice versa for the mer form.

janus is a fucking uh,, dude idk the word for it. i guess the general word for it would be dragon but he’s more humanoid than dragon. a cross between the two ig. anyways he has scales on one side of his face, scaly wings because fuck yeah, horns jutting out from his forehead, and more shit that i have forgotten but i know he has it. the scales are a golden color, with warm yellows and light oranges mixed in. left eye has a dragon pupil type thing, like a slitted pupil. fuck i hate describing things ghdgakhgask. im playing around with the idea that dragons can shapeshift but nothing is set in stone with that tbh. most dragon folk are like janus, a mix between dragon and human, and only the really powerful ones are the ones that can actually turn into dragons so thats pretty rare. but fuck descriptions its time for fucking FRIENDSHIP and FAMILY

janus has a little brother whose name is emile and they are 6 and actually pretty shy. it took them a while to warm up to patton but now he literally loves pat and everytime he sees them he bolts over and just gives him a huge hug. patton tries to act all tough but he is so soft for emile there is no denying it and they all know it. jan and emile have an agender parent and a genderfluid parent. agender parent uses xe/xem btw. 

patton has a mother and never knew his father. he and his mother have a rather,,, distant relationship i suppose. his mother is in the royal guard so she is called away often (though it does not excuse the neglect in the slightest) her and pat just mutually acknowledge that they both exist and go about their day. one day pat confessed to jan that he never really felt that they were his mom, more just a person who birthed him. one time in a particular bout of drowsiness, patton confessed that janus and his family were the ones that he truly considered family. janus got choked up and was like ‘shut up you bastard im supposed to be tough /pos’ 

the first time janus showed him how he could get rid of the dragon aspects of himself for a limited time, patton literally took one look at his human form and shouted ‘what the FUCK’ and janus was like ‘IVE SEEN YOU CHANGE FORM BEFORE WHATS YOUR DEAL’ and patton just screams ‘THIS IS FUCKIN WEIRD’ (all /lh) janus and patton get up to so many shenanigans its a wonder they havent gotten caught yet lmao

patton, once again in sleep deprivation cause thats the only fuckin time he’ll confess anything about his emotions, told janus that he was his first friend and that he was so scared to mess it up when they first became friends. he’d spent most of his life alone and always in this state of just,,, perpetual anger, bubbling right underneath the surface with no way to escape. it led to him getting in a lot of fights and just lashing out, especially at people who tried to become his friend, scaring them away. when janus came along and stayed, he said it was the best thing that ever happened to him. he finally had a friend. even when he lashed out and retreated back into himself, putting up those walls again, janus still stayed. he helped break those walls down bit by bit, helped patton with his anger issues, helped patton realize that janus was here to stay, and that he wasnt leaving.

if you cant tell, i love them sm ghdgaskgjs