#brought to you by me who is currently sick and watching Star Wars

[made-my-peace-with-all-the-bad]

RIP Sodapop Curtis, you would’ve fucking loved Star Wars

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Sorry, Wrong Comms! : Hunter x Medic!Reader [Chapter 7]

Warnings and Information: Intended audience is 13+ (18 if you squint.) **THIS IS PART ONE OF CHAPTER 7.** I needed to cut the chapter in “half” to avoid a nearly 14k word count (at my current estimation)! There will be a Chapter 7.5 with the bulk of the chapter material, and the W&I has been halved appropriately to cover each respective part without being a mile long or spoiling what's to come. ;)

Should hopefully know the drill about my use of italics, Mando'a and headcanons by this point in the series. Mostly Star Wars swearing. Couple of lines throughout both halves get suggestive. Batch throws a surprise birthday party via trickery à la Crosshair. (Read as, to Hunter: mildly "weaponizing" the profession of Medic!Reader.) Vague, passing mention of self-injurious behavior brought up with discomfort and anxiety. Mentions of stitches and vague descriptions of healing injuries. Hopefully the explanation for the reason Hunter's (mostly) healed so fast within two days makes sense [as a reminder we're just pretending we understand how Star Wars medicine works for this AU]. Trying to explain the layout of the house is tricky, but at least bedrooms aren't. Party shenanigans start kicking off. Passing reference to alcoholic beverages, but none are actually present.

Word-count: 5,899

tpp-tpp-tpp-tpp-TPP!

The stern scratching at her door in the afternoon roused her from the holofilm she'd been watching, and she realized with a start what time it was. Blast, she'd honestly meant to grab a bite to eat an hour ago, but she'd been so absorbed in the plotline of the film Tech had said Omega and Hunter had been watching in the picture she was shown that she hadn't actively kept track of the time. Maybe that ruckus at the door was the little stray Tooka kitten she'd been seeing lately, hearing another round of scratching start up. 

Poor little thing - she wasn't sure how to tell the difference between male and female Tooka, she wasn't in animal medicine but at least knew that Tookas were a specific breed of Loth-cat - had been so skinny and malnourished the last time she'd seen it she left a plate of meat scraps out for the little mite the first time she'd noticed them skulking around and hoped for the best. 

Every now and then, the little thing she'd named Spoon showed up, looking healthier with each visit. (Why the name "Spoon", she couldn't remember.) Maybe that was them. "Spoon? That you, little thing?" Blast it, the door was acting sticky again and wouldn't open all the way. "Hold on little guy, gimme a second…" 

Dexterous fingers wrapped around the exposed lip of the blast door and helped [____] wrench it back to her surprise in a burst of frustrated strength. "Who the shit you calling little?" Crosshair inquired in a voice of shivering silk as the medic fully tugged open the door. 

He did not enjoy being called "little" ironically. He'd tolerated it well enough on the rare occasion he got sick and decided he wouldn't tough it out like a foolish cadet might; he understood well enough the woman had her habits given the age range of her patients. But he did not tolerate the memory of the old impressions that he was incapable of minding himself or keeping his brothers safe just because he didn't fit the general body type of the Grand Army of the Republic.

Her hands went icy and the knuckles paled with the force of the tight curling as she tried to explain herself. "Er, definitely not you Crosshair. I'm so kriffing sorry about that; I thought there was-" 

Rrow! Hccck! 

Spoon darted between the pair, skittering to a halt in front of the man with its hackles raised up at the sniper, one chicken-like paw raised threateningly and poised to swat. The toothpick rolled with the dry chuckle in response to further hissing and teeth-baring, the fleeting moment of the marksman's anger gone. "Hm. Didn't know you had a pet, doc. Don't think your Loth-cat likes me."

Her giggle was returned with a single, hearty chuckle as he bent over and scooped the light-furred feline off the stoop by the scruff like it weighed nothing in his hand. [____]'s head wagged slowly, eyes fixed on the feline currently held aloft in the dexterous hands of the often-moodiest member of the Bad Batch. "Oh the little one isn't mine, he or she's a stray, far as I can tell," she murmured, still distractedly watching the pissed-off critter do their best to intimidate the sniper. "I'm sorry, Cross, guess this stray I've been feeding on occasion really doesn't like you!"  

"Nothin' I'm not used to." The drawl of Crosshair's slightly smoky, serpentine voice was devoid of any self-pity or anger she might have expected, forgetting he tended to look back on his time as a cadet with near-total apathy as a way to cope with the experimentation. (It's the past, doll. Shit sucked, I won’t lie to you. Long-necks probably pretended they were deities while making the perfect soldiers for the perfect army. I try not to cry about it much.) "And this little womp rat doesn't scare me. Takes a guy with a tough act to recognize another's; I don't give a Sith's left tit if… she doesn't like me." 

Duh, looking under the Tooka's tail, why hadn't she thought of that? "Spoon is a “she”?" 

Crosshair just nodded and set the wriggling critter down, laughing softly at her when Spoon swiped at him in warning (and missed) before she slunk off into the open door of [____]'s house with a final spitting hiss and bared teeth. Looks like the medic had been adopted by a Tooka kitten now. Crosshair stitched his arms loosely across his chest, casually leaning back against the doorframe to soften his stance. "Guess I should stop circling the gunship and get to the hangar. Sorry to make you play doctor on your birth-day, kid, but I've got a concern about Hunter that I wanted to run by you, if that's alright." 

Right to it, no excuses: Clearly if Crosshair was concerned, this had to be something. He never liked openly admitting things weren't quite right to those he didn't trust. She knew she was one of the lucky few, so she took it seriously. "More than; I take it something came up?" She had a few possibilities in mind. Bad reaction to something she prescribed? Did he need something stronger? Did his brother think Hunter had come down with something since his immune system was going to be temporarily out of sorts with severe injuries like that?

"His stitches. They haven't torn, but they're driving him crazy because those lacerations seem to have nearly healed up. We're not sure how long they take to, uh, absorb? Dissolve?" Crosshair shrugged when he wasn't sure what the appropriate word to use was. Yeah, he'd heard her go over the jargon with Omega just two days ago, but so much had happened since then that the doctor was unaware of. "I'm not the JOAT-med, so I figured that was better to ask you." 

"Right, right…" [____] hummed softly in agreement, thinking before gently probing into the problem, "when you say they're driving him "crazy" you mean…?"

"He keeps trying to scratch at them if they aren't covered with gauze." Blast, that wasn't what she hoped to hear, but it was hardly a surprise all the same. She found them unpleasantly itchy herself in a past incident that necessitated their use after a classmate wasn't being careful with his scalpel. No surprises that student was thrown out of that intergalactic med school shortly after, and she got to be the live demonstration for how to stitch wounds by hand.

To this day she could still find a faint, pinkish scar on her non-dominant hand. A reminder that her profession was only just beginning, back then. The smallest taste of things to come in her efforts to aid the sick and the injured in the galaxy. "I see. Well, glad to hear we're trying to keep them covered, from the sound of things." Look on the bright side. "I don't mind swinging by and checking those stitches, if that's what you have in mind." 

"So long as you really don't mind…" Crosshair checked once more. He and the others, minus Hunter who was against the idea of being used as bait no matter what truth there was to the stitches, were sure this would guarantee that they'd get her over to their housing so they could throw her a little party. Nothing too fancy by any means, but they knew that wouldn't be an issue. Nobody ever remembers how well a party was decorated, just how much fun it was. 

And they did hope it'd be a night to remember, with or without Hunter professing his feelings. Her first birthday she wasn't working at her clinic in a few years, and a long awaited taste of normalcy - participating in a special occasion - for all of the vode. 

"Not at all, I swear. Let me grab my medbag." [____] insisted with a sunny smile. “Be right back.”

“No rush,” Crosshair promised, pulling something out of his pocket. When she ducked back into the house, Cross tapped out a simple message into the communication device.

target acquired ETA five min

think you better take something for your nerves, lover boy

He smirked devilishly at the unamused reply from his bandana’d brother just before the medic stepped out of the house, her bag of supplies in-hand.

Shut the kriff up.

"SURPRISE, KID!" Wrecker's voice boomed loudest over his brothers' and sister's as [____] and Crosshair breached the threshold. 

There were party decorations at eye level and near the ceiling that immediately caught her attention. All the same color/s in various shades and hues. Plastic and foil balloons scattered throughout the house. Tacked to the wall in the central room was a large paper banner, bearing her name in Echo's tidy Aurebesh behind the Clone-specific quirk of a hyphenated happy birth-day. 

"A-aw guys…" she spluttered, voice tight and choked with emotion, "...y-you really-?" She felt silly that she was dangerously close to crying, not quite sure why the simple act of them throwing a little surprise party for her, such a happy notion, was bringing tears to her eyes like this. 

"Sorry, kid…" Echo tutted soothingly, drawing her close to him with the tight encircling of both arms, that steady and comfortable pressure that allowed her to feel the rumble of his chest as he spoke, "we didn't overwhelm you, did we?" 

"N-no! No-no, I just wasn't expecting this," [____] assured her friends as they came closer to make sure she was okay, or going to be, drawing the heel of her hand across her face to dry her eyes with a light-hearted chuckle. "I came 'cause Crosshair said that Hunter's stitches were bothering him, as a way to get me here I guess, and I wanted to see how I could help… I hadn't expected a little party at all." Oh Maker, she had to admit he'd gotten her good, that kind of concern specific to Crosshair had felt so real and… 

She looked up at Hunter directly for the first time once Echo had released her, asking Wrecker to help him pull the party snacks out of the kitchenette and set them out now that [____] was here. She expected to see a sheepish and apologetic grin from the man with that dark, handsome half-skull tattoo, maybe hear a gentle murmur of apology for weaponizing her profession in order to get her to come by; that he was fine, that she didn't need that big medbag carried in her non-dominant hand.

But she could see it when she really looked at his face, the sharp pinch in his brow and the raised tracklines of his fingernails where he scratched around the gauze she could see under the neckline of his shirt, (again in her favorite color, all of them were wearing something in her favorite color she realized), that there was truth to Crosshair's admittance of concern for one of his family after all. "Oh… Hunter, would you like me to take a look at the stitching?" 

Hunter shifted his weight from left to right foot, then back again. "I-if you don't mind..."

She was not about to let her friend, a dear friend and an often selfless man, wave off his needs or deny himself some relief, comfort, just because it was her birthday. "Not at all, I swear. Where would you prefer we take care of this for you?" 

Hunter regarded the question with a healthy degree of guilt. You could take the doctor out of her clinic, but you couldn't stop her from doing her job. Not even on her birthday. Maker, she was so selfless. So devoted to the sick and injured. So worried. 

"Hunter, I really do mean it when I said I don't mind at all. Crosshair, he, uh…" she glanced at the brother in question with a look of uncertainty, and when given an approving nod she continued, "Crosshair said the stitches were driving you crazy. Or he was worried that they were. S-something like that." Of course Crosshair had noticed, as expected, but telling her? That's what he'd gone with in order to lead her to their house? Did he weaponize her dedication to her profession?

Why was she looking at him like that?

Crosshair's hand caught his wrist, voice a sharp but low rumble, the warning thunder before a storm. "Hunter. Stop trying to scratch your stitching, for Maker's sake. Let her take care of it." 

"S-sorry," Hunter tried, hoping to placate Crosshair's temper and [____]'s expression of gnawing worry. "didn't realize I was…" 

Crosshair turned back to the grown woman, addressing her while he kept Hunter's hand in check. "His room is the door you can see at the end of the hall. You won't want to use the 'fresher, still need to mop up some water on the floor." 

"Meant to get a pipe fixed… Got fixated and caught up with helping decorate." Tech muttered apologetically, rattling down a note-to-self with the keys of his datapad at the sniper's reminder. "It should not pose a problem and prevent use of the refresher during the party for anyone." 

"No worries! Good to know." [____] chuckled softly, giving Tech a reassuring smile and a nod to Crosshair so she could take Hunter's hand. The casual nature of the gesture made his heart flutter. "Okay, bedroom it is. Shouldn't be too long." With every door they passed, Hunter just wanted to sink into the floor, deep into the planet's crust if he could. Yes he'd once dreamed of a moment like this, whether that would've been with someone special or just a casual little tryst during the days of the Clone Wars, feeling so dominant and powerful and wanted with some sexy little thing caged on the mattress below him but… 

Those steamy scenes didn't take place in corners of the galaxy that looked so dull. Sterile. A carbon copy of a minimalism showroom out of those one-in-a-million remodeling shows you could find somewhere on the Holonet. 

"Wow," [____] started, breaking Hunter's cycle of thoughts, "pretty tidy in here. Think I might have to ask you for some pointers on how to organize mine, heheh…" He understood the teasing was meant also as a compliment, but Maker, he hated his room. Barren walls. The muted paint the housing came with. The snug, uneven desk he never used aside from doing weapon care in the upper right-hand corner. A few dingy, beat up books on top of the footlocker at the foot of his bed that he found kicking around the Marauder that no one had memory of collecting. 

That's what caught her eye first as she moved past the footlocker to set the medkit at the end of the bed. "Those look well loved… I didn't take you for reading in your spare time," she admitted with a gentle smile, hoping by talking about general things, Hunter wouldn't be so embarrassed about stripping off half of his clothing in front of her if he had something to focus on. As he slowly hiked the short-sleeve over his head she noted the two different names on the spine of each book and asked over the soft grunt of pain, "Your favorite authors?" 

Through gritted teeth as he did his best not to swear out loud, Hunter shook his head stiffly. "Kriff… N-not really… just kinda keep 'em around, I guess." [____] hummed pleasantly, breaking open the seal around a blindly selected fresh roll of gauze. Get the last step ready and waiting for her so she could cap off this unofficial in-house treatment that much quicker for him once she'd relieved him of his bothersome sutures. "Is it just the stitching on your shoulder that's being a nuisance? Or the ones here too?" Gesturing to the larger patch of gauze taped to his stomach, she couldn't immediately see signs he'd been itching around or messing with the bandage tape since the last time he or his brothers had likely changed out the wrappings. 

Hunter shook his head, sucking in his teeth as [____] gingerly removed the medical wrapping taped to his shoulder. It was peculiar that the smaller of the two injuries was the one that hurt most. "Sorry… Doing my best to be gentle."

"Y-you're fine, burc'ya."

"Let's see how turning your skin blue with all that bacta-gel the past two days has been doing." The wrapping removed, [____] was now visually assessing the remnants of the detonation injury. There was no burning, glaring redness or discharge that suggested infection, and the regenerating, recovering edges that were pale and pinkish were a promising sight. She was surprised that the injury had closed so rapidly already. (Okay, she really had to pick Tech's brain about healthcare in Clones to get to the bottom of a few questions one of these days.) 

"Everything looks good. Like, really good. I can remove the sutures pretty painlessly, and you just keep on doing whatever it is that's made this close up so fast. Hiding some kind of accelerated healing factor Clones have from me, or are you using some kind of super bacta?" she couldn't help herself and paused for a moment to have a silly little giggle at her own joke, missing the moment that Hunter's pained frown briefly mirrored the medic's smile before she took a calming, self-soothing breath and went back to removing the monofilament thread. "Keeping on top of your pain with the short-term prescription, too, right?"

Hunter said nothing and just simply nodded; a lie. The last time he'd taken one of his last remaining doses was lunch, hours ago, the last of the nuna stew Wrecker had made. Echo's joking comment that the painkillers made him weepy led him to be more than a little hesitant to take them before they planned on finding an "excuse" to bring [____] by. He planned on finding a moment to discreetly take the now-tardy dose when she wasn't looking and just hoped for the best. Hope that this lie won't come back to bite him. 

Hope that he'll be brave enough tonight… tell her the truth, no more lies. No more avoidance.

“Hey-” [____]’s voice cut in softly, catching his hand wandering closer to the two-day-old injury, “no scratching, silly. I’m not afraid to wrap your hand in gauze so you can’t touch yoursel- oh Maker, that sounded- Nevermind!” Both stubbornly pretended their faces weren’t burning with embarrassment for different reasons, faces mere inches away at times as she carefully cut and removed segments of the stitching, being sure not to tug on the regenerating skin too harshly.

And neither called any attention to how they went from her holding Hunter’s hand down and away from his shoulder to interlocked fingers by the time she’d extracted the last bit of medical-grade thread.

Omega was waiting for them at the end of the hall, hands behind her back with a barely contained grin. She clearly had something for them at first glance as the door opened. "[____] needs a party hat! Hunter too!" Omega declared emphatically, rocking excitedly on the balls of her feet as Hunter and the medic returned from the back bedroom and rejoined everyone in the central area, fresh medical wrapping with a marbling pattern in a blue color-scheme peeking under the collar of the shirt he wore. 

They were the only ones not wearing hats made of thick cardstock and carefully cut ribbons of glitter-foil somewhere on their body. Echo was wearing his blue party hat on his right shoulder, the galaxy's pointiest (and most sparkly) pauldron. Wrecker's orange hat was fixed at a playful angle on his head, and Tech's yellow and Crosshair's purple party hats were perfectly upright on their own heads. 

In Omega's hands there were three remaining party hats. [____] could tell there was a hat Omega likely had in mind for her. "Oh do I, now? Whatcha got for me little lady?" Brighter than the twin stars over Tatooine, Omega grinned before singling out the party hat covered in all of the colors of the light spectrum from end to end in glitter-foil. She motioned for [____] to bend forward so Omega could easily affix the handmade hat to the head of the medic with an elastic strap, effectively crowning her with the rainbow cone. "This one's for you! Which one do you want, Hunter?" 

The last hats available were green and red. It was to the medic's slight surprise that Hunter requested the green party hat over the red, and that Crosshair was quick to step in behind Hunter and help him comfortably adjust it so Hunter didn't upset the fresh wrapping over his left shoulder by trying to reach over his head. "Thanks, Cross…" 

There was a firm squeeze around the right shoulder. "Don't mention it. I'll go get the drinks now. Really get this party kicked off." Crosshair ducked into the kitchen unit and could be heard rooting through several shelves in various cabinets, calling out to one of his brothers after a long, contemplative pause. "What did they call these things again at that one place we tried after getting the ban from 79's?"  

"Oh-oh, don't forget the kid's favorite stuff in the cold unit too!" Wrecker called back, drawing out a peal of giggles from his sister after sweeping Omega in the air with one arm. "We picked up a lot of your favorite drinks tha’ ya typically would have to get imported for your party; all the stuff for mocktails too!" All the fun, creative flavors without the hassle of a hangover the following morning for anyone, and nothing was anything Omega would have been excluded to due to alcoholic content.

[____] smiled at the thoughtfulness and attention to detail that was so evident all around her. "Awh, you guys are too sweet..." Far sweeter than she would have ever guessed nearly a year ago. 

Tonight was gonna be a good night.

"Cross, you're not reaching high enough!" Echo called out in a singsong tone, face lit up in a mischievous smile. "Little higher… no, to the left!"

They were trying their hand at a rendition of pin-the-tail-on-the-Bantha, everyone's sides aching as everyone did their best to subtly mess with one another by giving false directions to the person playing, or a deliberate handicap beyond the simple blindfold. [____] had gone first, and had been messed with the least for her first turn. Once Cross had completed his turn, she'd be taking the blindfold again, maybe even the defunct helmet the Batchers had found kicking around in Tech's half of his and Wrecker's bedroom.

It had no functioning audio sensors or modulator microphone that allowed the wearer to speak to anyone or hear very well, and the visor had been glazed over in fifteen different coats of a thick, black paint so you couldn't even see out of it. That's the deliberate handicap they had to use on Hunter due to his finely attuned sense of direction. Crosshair briefly lamented that they had no alcohol on hand just for Hunter to try to further confuse him beyond Wrecker carefully blindfolding, then spinning the current player in place fifteen times before aiming them at the wall.

Hunter had grumbled darkly about that joke before he put on the defective equipment, saying that the label on the prescription medication (which he'd secretly taken just minutes ago at the time of the remark) warned against the mixing of painkillers and spirits, so he wouldn't have done it. Crosshair only laughed and started repeating the directions for Hunter in a louder voice once the helmet was firmly in place.

Tech had explained to the medic, while he was fitting it over Hunter's head and holding onto the green party hat for his brother for the time being, that he was intending to make the helmet suitable for the episodic instances of sensory overload that would severely overwhelm Hunter, Crosshair, and on occasion himself. That's why, for the time being, Cross was assigned the chore of speaking loud enough for Hunter to hear the directions from everyone. (For Wrecker and Echo, Tech briefly lamented he'd have to rework separate non-standard helmets. And he expressed his earnest relief that this did not appear to be an issue Omega suffered from; he still planned to make one of these helmets for her as a precaution.)

Crosshair's dominant hand shot five inches above the play-space at his new set of instructions from the ARC trooper who was really enjoying his chance to screw with the often snarky vod. "No, wait Cross, liiiiittle too high!" [____] counteracted, she and Omega giggling together on the two-seater as Wrecker gave a thirty second warning. The hand dropped three inches and the tail was tacked to the wall so he could complete his turn to remove the blindfold and inspect his attempt.

He was roughly two inches off-target. Wrecker was careful as he gave the sniper's shoulder a good-natured slugging and congratulated him on his attempt. "Hah, not bad! Got pretty close, Cross!"

"Indeed," Tech chuckled agreeably, scratching down the results in the scoring chart that came with the game, "that attempt is now tied for second-closest to the target with [____]'s first attempt after Omega's first." Somehow the female Clone had managed to get her tail just an inch and a half off target despite how unsteady she'd been after being spun fifteen times. Both the medic and marksman had been two inches off target, followed up by Tech's two and a half, Hunter's three (and in the bantha's foot), then Echo's smack in the middle of the nose (too dizzy much like Omega, and got his left and right mixed up), and finally Wrecker's tail tacked very gingerly between the bantha's eyes. "[____], it's your turn again. Here is your next tail, and the helmet, if you are interested in giving it a try still. I can hold onto your party hat if you wish."

She carefully removed the cardstock hat from her head and smoothed down her hair before trading the helmet for the conical hat from the goggled Clone. "Thanks, Techie."

"Certainly, Miss Medic."

Echo, Wrecker and Crosshair snorted with barely contained laughter at the sight of Hunter's expression of blatant confusion, his eyes enormous in disbelief. Tech of all people calling someone something other than their preferred name - or designation number - was a real rarity, let alone being so cool about having one used on him in turn by someone who wasn't one of his brothers. "Wha-? Miss Medic? And since when has she started calling you by Wrecker's nickname for-"

"That is an explanation for another time," Tech cut in, pretending not to notice the deep dive of Hunter's eyebrows as they furrowed in frustration at having been interrupted. "Perhaps after she has completed her turn. Who would you like to relay instructions to you, [____]?"

She stalled for time to think about it for a moment by once again smoothing down her hair, adjusting her grip on the helmet experimentally. Crosshair had already proven he had a volume, a sweet spot in his silken voice that was good at giving commands and directions with an edge that drew one's attention. She'd gathered many, many hints of Echo's tactical expertise that made him another suitable candidate, but there was an impulse to satisfy some new curiosities of her's since the mystery mission just two days ago… What was Hunter's voice like when he was giving orders?

Would it be like she imagined; domineering and confident without being a touch too stern like other authoritative voices she's heard throughout her life? Would she still hear hints of that same golden, tender edge she's heard him use to soothe his brothers and promise them that they couldn't be in safer hands when he thought she couldn't hear him?

She was feeling strangely shy about asking, suddenly. "Uh, Hunter, I guess? If you don't mind… Just so we're not making your brother do it every time." she added with a careful, teasing lilt in her voice that she hoped would mask the quickened pace of her heart if she could bring Crosshair into it. Crosshair just chuckled and snatched his drink along with her's to go top them off, most likely. "Don't mind at all." Hunter promised. "I'll do my best to be loud enough to hear."

With an affirming nod that it was settled and she was good to go, Wrecker carefully slipped the helmet down her head and once sure she was tucked in, spun her in place fifteen times by her shoulders, a steady hand on her at all times so she didn't lose her balance. Things were well and truly muffled outside of the helmet; the regular, steady dance of her breath was the only thing she could clearly hear inside the cranial cavity of the plastoid bell.

"Can you hear me, ad'ika?" Hunter sounded very faraway with her head submerged in this malfunctioning helmet. It would certainly serve the brothers well if they needed this darkened pocket of sensory deprivation. [____] nodded and stretched her arm out to the wall, hovered somewhere in front of that poster of a bantha to show she was ready, knowing her own voice would be too dampened within the helmet the same way their voices were outside of it.

His voice sounded deeper when he gave the next directive, finding his sweet spot, "Little to your left." There was a muted rumble of speech around her after she slowly swung her hand in the appropriate direction, trying to keep it the same height for the time being. “Too high.” Hunter suggested. “Go a little lower.” It was repeated again, the third word stressed this time. There seemed to be a murmur of praise behind her after she made the minor adjustment, hand falling just a smidgen. “... Crosshair says you need to go right. Just a little.” She briefly knocked elbows with Wrecker as she followed the suggestion, sparking a surprised jolt that knocked her arm slightly out of place and subsequent apology from the gentle giant that she could hear with far more clarity due to his proximity.

“Whoops, sorry kid!” He gingerly guided her back to her previous trajectory and once all were satisfied she was back on track, Hunter was back to instructing her where to go, those deep, warm and smokey timbres all the medic had to go on with the added challenge of the helmet that made it harder to hear the room around her.

“Slight climb up…” She slowly floated her hand up the poster before coming to a stop when there was a jump in the noise. “Stop there!” Moving her hand straight out in front of her, she planted the game piece into the poster and shucked the helmet to see how she did.

The cardstock bantha tail was perfectly in place on the poster.

“Ya got it, kid!” Wrecker whooped, giving [____] a celebratory hoist in the collective excitement. Once she was back on solid ground, Tech returned the party hat and congratulated the medic on her accuracy. “Well done, [____]. You started out surprisingly close to the target,” he demonstrated by lightly tapping the area of the poster where she had initially reached forward after being spun, “and with how well you interpreted Hunter’s guidance, it only took you a total of fifteen seconds to successfully pin the tail on this rendition of a bantha with… several creative liberties.” Everyone chuckled, all in agreement that this poster must be geared for slightly younger audiences given the cartoonish quality to the art style when it had been hung on the wall earlier when they were first getting ready to play the first of many games Crosshair and Omega had thought to gather when picking up the decorations and gifts from each brother the other day.

“It’ll be hard to beat a dead win,” Crosshair hummed pleasantly, handing her the drink he’d kindly refilled once she resituated the hat, “so whaddya say we give another game a try, doc? Entirely up to you.”

She took a light swig of the mocktail with a little smile, head turned to the game. Echo and Wrecker’s game pieces in particular caught her eyes, “Night’s still plenty young, Cross. Think there’s time for everyone to have a second shot at this, uh, “cute” lil’ bantha, y’know?” His sharp eyes caught the same two tails and mirrored that same casual, friendly shrug with a devil may care smile. “Alright Tech, that means you’re up next. Don’t worry, I won’t mess up your precious little scorecard.”

Tech could only direct a look of mild complaint at his brother before slipping his goggles over his head and surrendering them to Echo with a troubled sigh. “That’s not comforting…”

“I’ll watch him!” Omega’s promise was interrupted with a burst of giggles before she could climb out of her half of the two-seater and convince Hunter to trade places with her, leaning into the pretense of the “little sister charm” to sweeten Hunter to the idea of the swap. “[____]’s finished with her turn now, so you can ask her about the Miss Medic nickname she’s gotten while Tech has his turn.” That seemed to settle it for Hunter, the hesitancy to the idea of seat-swapping for “no reason” gone and forgotten in an instant when replaced with curiosity at the reminder of the earlier offer.

They offered each other timid little smiles as Hunter took Omega’s previous place next to [____] on the piece of furniture that encouraged a greater sense of sharing the same surface than the spacious sofa that had been pushed against another wall for the time being; the simple, undeniable fact of being nearly elbow-to-elbow felt more intimate to them both.

After a beat of silence to allow Tech to start his round on the best foot, she returned the smile that Hunter silently prayed to the Maker didn’t look nervous.

“So, uh… where’d “Miss Medic” from Tech come from?”

“Heh…” [____] chuckled softly, quickly considering how much detail she’d include, “Not all that long or interesting a story, honestly, but if you really wanna know… It originally started because Wrecker accidentally used “Techie” instead of Tech when he wasn’t around; that was while Tech was piloting my medical ship back to the planet. Then I accidentally let it slip that I knew about the nickname when the two of them swung by my clinic at lunch to get more medical supplies after they’d heard my last patient before closing for lunch-rush call and referred to me as “Miss Medic”, several times, I’m sure...”

As the two of them shared a little laugh together, Hunter surmising that Tech had been fine with the medic knowing such a silly little nickname because he could now give her one of her own in kind, each of them easily missed the conspiratorial smiles on the other side of the room.

Things seemed promising from this vantage point.

“So far so good.” Echo muttered under his breath with a knowing toss of his head to the marksman, easily playing off the overheard remark as encouragement meant for Tech. “That’s definitely looking like a step in the right direction…”

Taglist: @dragonrider9905  @ladytano420  @the-hexfiles @ilovethosebrowneyes9904​

Note from Frost: Hope you’re all ready for a real long one next time! If you would like to be added to the taglist that is currently just specific for Sorry, Wrong Comms!, (I may start a taglist for all Star Wars related fanfiction projects that will be marked accordingly with #frostfics in the near future if there is interest) don’t hesitate to shoot me an ask or a comment loves. 🩷 

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[corpsedaydream]

paint wars part 2

OKAY HERE IT IS! PART TWO TO PAINT WARS

if u haven’t read part one, i’ll link it right here

word count: 3k (yikes it’s a long one)

_______________________________

paint wars part 2

Things had been rough lately.

Real fucking rough.

You missed Corpse so much. You hadn’t spoken to each other since that fight at his apartment and that was fifty-four days ago now, almost two thirds of a season you’d been without him.

“I miss you.” You spoke aloud into the emptiness of your apartment, noting that the time on your phone now said 12:01am. It was officially now day fifty-five without speaking to him.

You swiped away all your notifications on your lock screen, ignoring everything and everyone that was trying to reach you right now so you could look at the person who was ignoring you. You wanted to look at the photo that was still your wallpaper. That first photo you’d ever taken together.

You went to change it on day thirty-eight of not speaking. On night thirty-seven of not speaking you’d gone out with your friends, they’d finally convinced you after a whole month of trying and you got absolutely wasted. So of course you’d called Corpse. But he didn’t answer, not any of the fifteen times you’d called. So that next morning, when you woke up hungover and saw that same lock screen photo and not one response from him, you told yourself you were going to change it. You tried to tell yourself you were angry, but it was just a coping mechanism to ignore the hurt that had been tunnelling through your heart since being without him. You spent an hour scouring tumblr and twitter for some aesthetically pleasing lock screen, but you didn’t save a single one. Nothing could compare to that photo of you and Corpse.

You then started to wonder if he’d listened to any of the voicemails you’d left the night before. You couldn’t remember them exactly, but you knew you definitely left four of them and how badly you wanted to know if the curiosity became too much to bear and he’d listened to them.

And he had.

On night thirty-seven, while you were out drinking, Corpse was in a deep sleep. He hadn’t been sleeping a whole lot lately, so finally, he’d crashed hard that night and slept through the calls you’d made to him. But even though he wasn’t aware of the calls in his sleeping state, you were still present in his dreamland. Every adventure his brain took him on was with you, maybe it was something that kept him asleep, the fact that you were right there in this fantasy. You were talking to him again, he could see your smile, hear your laugh, reach out and grab your hand, he could kiss you again. It was happiness. But then he woke up and he went to reach out for you in his bed, still caught up in the false wonder his dreams had provided him, only to find it was just him and reality slapped him fully awake. You weren’t there with him. You hadn’t been for a number of weeks. He missed you.

On day thirty-eight, when he spotted the missed calls from you on his phone, he cursed himself for being asleep and missing it. But would he had answered had he been awake? He wasn’t sure. So instead, he heard you speak to him for the first time in so long, even if it was through a voicemail you had left in the space of him not answering your calls.

“Oh, fuck- oh my god.”

That was it. That was the first voicemail, there was a lot of background noise but he had heard you so clearly. In your drunken state, you didn’t know what to say, so that’s what you had left with him, until you called back and left another.

"Hi.” You started it simple. He had the phone clutched so tightly in his hand, the device pressed so firmly against his ear, he didn’t want to miss a word. “I- I don’know what to say.” He noticed the slight slur to your words then, you were drunk when you had called. “I’m’a just go.”

You hung up again, but alas, there was another.

“Can I just ask... are you ignoring me?” Your voice was so meek, his chest hurt at the sound of it. He almost went to say no, but this was a one sided conversation, he’d missed the opportunity. “I miss you.” You hung up again, and he had to stop himself from replaying it over and over again to hear you say that you missed him.

But there was one last voice mail.

“I should stop calling, huh?” You sighed and he could picture you with a sad pout, your eyes all droopy with a mix emotion and alcohol. “But, I just want’a talk to you.” You confessed, then he heard another voice call your name in the background before they spoke to you and he listened. “(Y/N)! Here you are, what are you doing? That guys wondering where you are, he’s fucking hot-”

Corpse hung up then, he didn’t want to hear anymore. Jealousy was surging through him as the unwanted images of you with someone else plagued his mind and he threw his phone across his room. Wishing he hadn’t of started listening to those fucking voicemails.

What he didn’t know, though, is how the rest of that last voicemail went.

“I really don’t care.” You’d told your friend at the mention of the guy. Yeah, he was attractive and he was buying you drinks, but you wanted no one except Corpse. “Give me a sec.” You’d told your friend before walking away again, bringing your phone back to your ear to talk to the only person you wanted to talk to right now, even if he wasn’t on the other end of that call. “I hope you didn’t hear that, but if you did, don’t worry it. I’m g’na go home now.” You sighed and looked up at the night sky, there was no shooting star, or really any stars at all because of the light pollution from where you currently were, but you were still wishing that by some magic happenstance, Corpse would pick up his phone and speak to you again. “I wish I was going to yours.”

On day thirty-nine you cried so hard. You thought you had made it past this violently sobbing stage, this was exact state you’d cried yourself to sleep to each night for the first few weeks. Your heart was in so much pain, it was torn apart and you swore only one person had the power to stitch it back together, but he wasn’t there. You hadn’t heard a single thing from him. Were you two still together? Had you broken up? You weren’t even sure. But on day thirty-nine you cried that hard again because Corpse hadn’t responded at all to your calls or voicemails, so you convinced yourself he truly wanted nothing to do with you.

You’d been avoiding searching his name on social media, knowing it would send you into a spiral and you’d overthink every little thing but on day forty-two you’d noticed on twitter that he was playing games live. He wasn’t live himself, but you watched someone’s stream just to hear him again. You cried again doing this, because he was being exceptionally quiet, he wasn’t his normal self, he barely laughed once.

You wished you hadn’t clicked on it. The guilt you felt was already immense, but hearing him so not like himself made you feel even worse for causing all of this. You stopped watching, you couldn’t bear it. You knew you were to blame for all of this, you pushed him too far, you couldn’t believe how stupidly you had acted, you knew better and you did it anyway. The self attacking thoughts kept swirling your mind until you gave yourself a headache.

On day fifty-six of still not talking to each other, you ventured out to the beach with just your best friend. She’d been there for you a lot lately, she also felt bad about that night, but you tried to assured her it was your own fault. She didn’t know Corpse like you did, she didn’t know him at all, that’s why you felt to blame for not stopping the idea before it was too late.

“You should put sunscreen on.” Your best friend told you. You were laying on your towel in the direct sun, enjoying the warmth blasting into your skin, you hadn’t been to the beach in such a long time.

“Yeah.” You answered her, but you knew you weren’t going to. Another time, you would have, you knew the familiar sting of sunburn well and you normally put it on to look after your skin, but you hadn’t really been taking care of yourself too well lately, you just didn’t care enough.

On night fifty-six, you stood in front of your bathroom mirror looking over your body. You’d spent a lot longer at the beach than you realised and now you were burnt so badly and as red as a tomato. “Fuck.” You said out loud, turning and looking over your shoulder to inspect your back, it was just as red. You should’ve worn sunscreen. You left your bathroom to go find your aloe vera plant, only to find that it was dead. “Fuck!” You repeated, the one hope you had to help heal your skin even slightly quickly vanishing. “Oh, fuck. What am I going to do?”

That’s how you found yourself heading towards a 24 hour store to purchase whatever aloe vera cream or gel you could find, you knew it wouldn’t be as good as the plant itself, but you needed something. It was late and you were anxious as you neared the shop, you knew about this place from Corpse, he would often go there at odd hours to get whatever he needed. It was close to his place and you hadn’t driven around this area since that disaster of a night.

You squinted your eyes as you walked in and the harsh fluorescent lights pierced into your eyes after walking in from the night time. You were walking quickly and you told yourself it was because you were embarrassed about your skin being so burnt and you didn’t want anyone to see you like this, but it was really because you were so anxious over the thought of who you could potentially run into in this shop. Your swift steps brought you to the skin care isle and you let your eyes scan the shelves for the aloe vera you so desperately sought out.

“(Y/N)?”

You froze completely and you swore you even felt your heart stop beating. Hearing his voice speak your name again felt like lighting had struck right through you. This couldn’t be real, this had to be your imagination playing some sort of sick joke on you. Slowly, you turned towards the direction his voice had come from and sure enough, there he was. Dressed in all black, a beanie on his head and a mask over the bottom half of his face, your eyes locked with his. There was a pull in your chest, your heart had heard him, too and it wanted so badly to be with him, to be healed by him. You had thought up this scenario a million times over these past fifty-six days, of what would happen had you and him had a run in like this and in every single one you had so much to say, but right now, you were speechless.

Before you had a chance to even try to say anything if you managed to stop being stuck in silence, Corpse spoke again.

“Fucking hell,” He neared you and you sucked in a quick breath at his sudden movement. “Look how burnt you are.” You were wearing tights and an oversized hoodie, so your entire body was covered, but your face was just as burnt and clearly he had noticed. 

This was another aspect that didn’t fit into your scenarios you’d thought up about this moment. You’d imagined you would’ve look amazing. But instead of looking like some beautiful mermaid, you were the same colour as Ariel’s hair from The Little Mermaid. “I know, don’t look at me.” You huffed and dropped your head down, letting your beach waved hair fall around your face.

“You didn’t wear sunscreen?”

“Obviously not.”

“That was silly.”

“I know.”

“Are you sore?”

“Yeah.” It felt so natural to have this back and forth with him. It was brief, but it was enough for your heart to kick back into gear and speed up.

He stayed silent for a prolonged moment so you looked back to his face and his eyes were on your face but it was his turn to glance away then and you took the opportunity to really soak in his side profile. You’d even missed just being able to look at him. 

“Why are you here?” He asked you.

“I need aloe vera and I knew this place would be open.”

“You’re not using your plant?” Butterflies fluttered inside of you that he remembered a simple mundane fact that you preferred the healing touch of the actual plant for sunburn as opposed to what was bought at a store in a bottle.

“It died.”

Corpse suddenly looked back to you and much to your surprise, he laughed.

“Why are you laughing?!”

“How do you kill a succulent?”

“You know I’m not good at gardening and shit like that.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d be able to kill a succulent.” He laughed harder and you started to smile, he was teasing you but it felt so right. And hearing his laughter filled you with a warmth you’d been missing.

“Shut up.” You told him, but you were beginning to laugh too. “It’s hard to keep plants alive.”

“(Y/N), succulents are pretty much impossible to kill.”

“Okay, I get it, I didn’t purposely murder my aloe vera plant.”

“Oh, baby.” The pet name slipped so easily from his lips but it caught you both off guard, so the both of you stopped laughing and your postures stiffened.

Briefly, your eyes met but each of you darted your vision elsewhere. However, neither of you made no effort to move away from one another.

“Sorry.” Corpse said softly.

“It’s okay.” And it was, so okay. You wanted to tell him that hearing him call you baby was all you’d been wanting to hear again over these almost fifty-seven days without him. “I should really get this aloe vera gel on me, though.” You really didn’t want to leave him, but you couldn’t stand in this store forever.

“Are you sunburnt all over?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You sighed

And just as instinctively as the pet name had slipped out, his hands started to move towards the sleeve of your jumper. But he stopped himself when you flinched slightly and he quickly realised what he was doing. “Sorry, can I see?”

“I mean, you can, but I don’t want you to do it because it does really fucking hurt. That’s why I jumped, not because I don’t want you to touch me.” You answered him quickly. “I do want you to touch me- wait, I mean, no.” If your face wasn’t already red from the sunburn, it would have become red then from the blush you could feel forming. And if your skin wasn’t in pain you would have facepalmed yourself. “Sorry.” You apologised then.

“It’s okay.”

Shaking your head, you began to gently slide the sleeve of your big hoodie up.

“Fuck, (Y/N).” Corpse cursed, concern filling him as your skin was practically glowing from the burn it had copped. “You can’t do that to yourself.”

“I know.”

“How long were you at the beach?”

“All day pretty much.”

“You’re that burnt all over?”

“Yeah, I mean, some spots are worse. I think my back and shoulders are probably the worst. They hurt the most.”

He moved to step around you then, disappearing out of your sight as he was now standing behind you. “Can I?”

“Yeah, just be careful.”

And he made sure to keep his movements cautious, he decided on looking from the top, his hands grabbing the neck on the back of your hoodie to pull it back ever so gently so he could inspect. His eyes widened in a combination horror, worry and sympathy. He’d seen you get sunburnt before, but never to this extent. “Oh my fucking god.” The contrast between where the strap of your togs sat over your shoulder, blocking a sliver of your skin from the sun to keep it its natural colour versus the red that was brought from the burn was insane. “It looks like someone has painted you.”

“I mean, I guess the sun did. Just in a really painful way.”

“You’re not planning on going to the beach anytime soon, right?” Corpse carefully released your hoodie then and stepped in front of you once more. Distress was so present on his face, despite most of it being covered. He was so worried about you in this moment.

“Definitely not. The only thing I’m planning on is not going outside in any sunlight until my skin is healed.”

“Living like me.”

“Guess so.”

“My aloe vera plant is alive.” He stated.

“Wow, you’re really just going to flex that right now? Trying to kick me while I’m down.” You joked back, assuming he was teasing you.

“No, I mean...” He trailed off, his eyes struggling to stay on yours as he continued. “You could come over and use it, I know you like the real stuff better and I could help do your back, or wherever you can’t reach.” He was nervous, but he really didn’t have to be.

You could feel it happening, your heart beginning to heal.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Do you want to?”

“Yeah.”

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding IX

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Part I - - - - - Part II - - - - - Part III - - - - - Part IV  - - - Part V - - - - - Part VI - - - - - Part VII - - - - - Part VIII

Content Warning: This chapter contains potentially triggering material, particularly aftermath of attempted suicide as well as discussions of bodily injury.

Cody woke up the morning after the...drunken keldabe still feeling uneasy. He spent half an hour attempting to read over reports in preparation for the Umbaran campaign before giving it up as a lost cause. He distracted himself for a little while by pouring over last night’s cantina surveillance, before giving up on that as well and sending a message to General Skywalker.

‘Any updates on General Kenobi’s status?’

He watched the comms as communications from everyone besides the General trickled in. He answered a few requests for requisitions, forwarded some medical reports, and ignored an irritating handful of overly-personal questions. 

Agonizing over it the whole time, he opened a comm-text link to Obi-Wan. It took nearly an hour, but he managed to send two sentences. ‘Hope you’re recovering well. Look forward to upcoming mission discussion.’

He immediately wanted to retroactively delete the message, mortified by every word and deeply concerned at every second that passed without a reply.

He spent the next 30 minutes hunched over, quickly closing every incoming CT and CC communication, justifying the time to himself as ‘technically on leave.’

He lurched forward when he finally received a General’s comm code, but slumped in disappointment when it was Skywalker, not Kenobi.

‘Not as drunk but still seems a little high. He says he wasn’t drugged. He’s taking the rest of the day off. I’m monitoring.’

Taking the rest of the day off. Did that mean he wasn’t carrying around his comm? Kriff. Should he more or less concerned that the general was actually taking a day off?

He decided to be more concerned.

‘Thank you for the update. Respectfully request information on any changes.’

Hopefully that would encourage Skywalker to keep him informed even if he stopped freaking out over his vod’s behavior.

Stowing the remote comm, he stood up and exited the temporary planet-side office, throwing himself into cleaning up the mess that was nearly 20,000 clone troopers simultaneously attempting to get the most out of a very brief R&R. 

Shortly before mid-day, he received another update from Skywalker.

‘Just managed to get him to medical. Healer cleared him of drug interactions but Obi-Wan’s still acting strange (not crying, but a lot of hugging).’

Cody stared at that for a long while.

‘Any other verbal indications of upcoming danger?’ he finally asked. Skywalker didn’t reply. 

Shortly after nightfall, his incident reports were interrupted by a call from an unknown temple number. He quickly opened it, and a holo of an unfamiliar Mon Calamari female healer appeared in miniature on the desk.

“Commander Cody. Thank you for answering so quickly. Are you somewhere private?” she asked, voice deliberately neutral.

The Commander tensed up. “Yes, sir. I’m in CC office space, alone. The room and the channel are both secure. Is this regarding General Kenobi?”

“Yes.” She replied. “My name is Master Bant Eerin; I’m a temple healer as well as a personal friend of Obi-Wan’s. He’s...he’s in the healing halls right now. We’re still trying to understand exactly what happened- I’ll tell you what I can but first we need to rule out any possible drugs he may have contact with. I need you to describe in detail anything he may have been exposed to that could have possibly had mind-altering effects.”

The Commander was a professional. He swallowed back his fear, his questions, and his demands to know what was going on.

“Of course. Everything on the Negotiator was GAR Standard, and I was with him when we left the ship. We went directly to the lower levels. The first time he was exposed to anyone outside the 212th was when we left our transport on level 3915. I...actually have footage of him the whole time night after that point. I’m sending it over right now, sir.”

“That would be extremely helpful, thank you.” He watched as she pulled it up on a second comm, sound barely audible. 

He continued with his report: “One of the boys took it without permission. He didn’t mean anything by it, he’s just an idiot; I’ve already issued a severe reprimand. In any case, he brought it to me after I issued surveillance on the cantina, it tracks everything the General did- as far as I can tell, he had a glass of house grub wine, two shots of rancor blood, and an unnamed mixed cocktail ‘on the house.’ You can see everything the bartender added- as far as I can tell nothing was slipped in. He just... blacked out suddenly after the fourth drink, and quickly startled awake, confused by his surroundings.”

“I see.” Her tone was still carefully neutral and Cody didn’t know how to read her expression. He waited, wishing he was wearing his bucket so he didn’t have to keep schooling his face into professional patience.

“You brought him back to the temple...correct?” 

“Yes, sir.”

She let out a deep breath, gills fluttering slightly. “We’ll probably have more questions later, but please understand our inquires are entirely based around determining how we can best help Obi-Wan. This call and any future ones are not intended, and should absolutely not be interpreted, as indications of blame. He’s actually spoken to me about you before, I know he has the deepest respect for you, personally and professionally. Someone will likely be assigned to talk to everyone whose spent time with him recently, including myself.”

The sick feeling in his gut from last night returned full force. “I...believe I understand sir. His condition is serious, then?”

Her gills fluttered again.

“Even now, I think we can safely anticipate a full physical recovery. He...there’s no easy way to say this...it appears he attempted to end his own life. Knight Skywalker got to him just in time, and he received bacta within minutes of the initial burn. I...like I said...we’ll began work to figure out why-”

Her voice broke and she stared up, large tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. She hastily wiped them away.

“Rest assured commander, he’s getting the best treatment possible. Thank you for your assistance. I’ll do my best to answer any questions you might have right now. This is my personal comm link- please feel free to reach out to me at any point for updates.”

“I-” Cody cleared his throat. “Can I come to the temple? To...” he trailed off, not sure how to finish.

“Not tonight, I’m sorry. The healers need to focus; he’s not allowed any visitors until he’s out of Bacta, I’m afraid.”

“Skywalker must be throwing a fit at that” Cody remarked numbly.

The healer winced. “Knight Skywalker is currently sedated. He was...injured in the struggle to keep Obi-Wan from further harm. Master Windu witnessed part of it, but we’ll have to wait until its safe to wake him to get the full story. I’ll be notifying Captain Rex of the situation after we finish speaking.”

“I’ll do it.” Cody offered immediately. “Tell me what happened.”

Eerin hesitated. 

“Please, Sir. It will be better coming from me and...if he’s the only other trooper who’s being informed at the moment...”

“Of course,” she said quietly. “We don’t know the full circumstances, but at some point in performing emergency care for Master Kenobi, Knight Skywalker was stabbed in the lower abdomen with a vibroblade. It pierced his large intestine. The blade was pulled out shortly before healers arrived, causing some further damage and blood loss. He’s already finished surgery, and should only need a few hours of Bacta at most. Considering his extraordinary past recovery rates, he’ll likely be out of bed tomorrow and fully healed by the end of the week.”

“General Kenobi wouldn’t...” Cody trailed off again. He was having a hard time putting coherent sentences together.

Bant looked at the ceiling for a moment, seeming to collect her thoughts.

“Psychosis can have many manifestations. Even with- with conventional injuries, people can mistake help for harm. There’s just too much we don’t understand, and only so much we can learn before they wake up. Are you certain you wish to be the one to inform Captain Rex?”

“Yes.” That was about the only thing the Commander was certain of right now. “Is there anyone else in the GAR I should inform of...anything?”

“The military aspect of this isn’t my area of expertise. If there’s someone you trust who can be a support for you, I don’t see why you shouldn’t be able to tell them in confidence. Some form of what happened is going to get out eventually.” she replied. “Please use your discretion, I suppose. It’s...not really my speciality but I imagine you’ll receive further orders on how much to release to the GAR once Obi-Wan’s stable.”

Right. Discretion. Because Obi-Wan wasn’t just Obi-Wan- he was a high general in charge of nearly 1/3 of the republic’s forces. If word of this got out to the wrong ears it would cause mass panic, maybe even an emboldened separatist advance. It was an insane amount of responsibility for one person, no wonder - he deliberately didn’t finish the thought.

“I’ll comm the Captain immediately. Thank you for the information, General.” he said out loud.

“Feel free to contact me for further updates, and tell Captain Rex he’s welcome to do the same. I’ll message you when its clear to visit the halls.”

“Yes, Sir.” Cody responded, saluting automatically. 

“Take care of yourself, Commander Cody”

The hologram blinked out. Cody sat motionless for several long moment before sweeping his desk off, sending the assorted flimsies and redundant comm-units of various designations to the ground.

He stared at the empty desk, then tapped a button on his wrist comm, opening a private audio channel. “CT-7567, please come in” he said calmly.

“Cody?” came the alarmed reply. “I’m here, what’s going on?” Why did he sound so panicked? He had deliberately used his calmest voice. Oh well.

“Please report immediately to CC Office 12 in Guard Headquarters”

“I’ll be there in 10″

Cody hung up. He stared at the blank wall. He knew something was wrong with how the General said goodbye.

He opened the single desk drawer and dumped the odd wires and coins inside to the floor. Eerin had said burn. That could mean a lot of things, but lightsaber was the most likely. 

Cody puked profusely into the empty drawer. He stared at the vomit for a moment before carefully closing the drawer. He still felt a little sick. He hadn’t even said anything back to the General, he just stood there, frozen. 

He stared vaguely at the wall across, wondering if he was going to puke again.

Rex burst into the room. “Cody! What’s going on?! You- kark, what is that smell?”

“I puked in the desk drawer” Cody explained.

Rex shut the door behind him and slowly walked over. He knelt down next to the desk, gently taking Cody’s hands in this own. “Cody. Vod. Talk to to me.” 

“Obi-Wan tried to kill himself.”

Rex’s hands tightened over Cody’s compulsively and Cody squeezed back harder. He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at Rex’s expression.

“Some of ghost company went out for drinks last night. Obi-Wan started acted oddly. We flew towards the temple. He started crying. We got to the temple. He Keldabe kissed me. He told me goodbye. I didn’t say anything back.”

“Oh, vod” Rex whispered. He gently pulled the slack Cody off the chair and onto his lap on the floor. Cody continued mechanically. “I did reports today. Skywalker said he was with him. I left Obi-Wan a message. I don’t think he saw it. He tried to kill himself. Skywalker must have left him alone. He saved him. Obi-Wan stabbed Skywalker.”

Rex froze, still holding on to Cody. 

“The healer called. Asked about drugs. They don’t think its drugs but they had to ask. She said they’re both going to heal completely fine. I have a link if you want to call the healer directly. That’s...it. I have reports to do now.”

Rex held Cody tighter. “Not right now”

“It’s war. People get hurt. People die. I have work to do”

“Not right now,” Rex repeated. “You have the right to be upset. You have the right to grieve. You’re a person, of course you have feelings.”

“Obi-Wan said that.” Cody whispered. Then he started crying. He continued to quietly sob for some time, hurt and bewildered and scared. They sat on the floor together; Rex barely moved, simply held on to his older brother as he fell apart.

Inevitably, Cody’s tears dried up and he pulled away. 

“I don’t know how to clean this,” he said gesturing at that closed drawer. 

“I’ll take care of it. Let’s just get you to bed. There’s CC bunks here, right? 

“Yes but...”

Cody didn’t really like sleeping so isolated, but he also couldn’t imagine facing the 212th right now. 

“I’ll stay here with you. We’ll go to the temple together in the morning.”

Rex shepherded Cody to the fresher. He stared at the mirror with a vague sense of recognition before automatically moving through a standard sanitation routine. By the time he finished, Rex had joined him in his room.

“What did you do with the vomit?” Cody asked, suddenly exhausted. They slipped into bed together.

“Swapped the whole desk with Pond’s. That bastard knows what he did.”

Cody let out a snort. Then, much to his surprise, he sank heavily into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Part X

[barnesandco]

Little Hands (IV)

Series Masterlist

Communication is key.

This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo 2021. Word count: 2248. Square filled: “Sung to Sleep”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: More Hydra Evilness, More Sad Child, Parental Anxieties. Brief mentions of war, sickness, death, grief. 

A/N: I know 2.2k words isn’t objectively a lot but boy did this feel like it. I hope every word is worth it and that you enjoy! Lmk what you think!!! Also I won’t even lie, the idea of Steve’s kids is 100% from one of my favorite comfort fics, family means no one gets left behind or forgotten, by the genius, the wonderful cosmicocean. IT’S SO SOFT. Pls read it.

You’re stunned when Bucky tells you what’s going on. The idea that his daughter (?) was made in a lab like some kind of experiment, and that the man who led said experiment now wants her back like she is his property, his weapon, is too horrid to consider for very long. Weaponizing an innocent child. Hydra.

Bucky gave you the broad strokes of the investigation – currently running on little more than educated guesses based on the meagre intel they have – and has let you know that he has had to recuse himself from the case, due to his… personal connection. That leaves him somewhere he finds awkward, to say the least.

It's evident in the way the corners of his lips turn down, how he is constantly rubbing the pads of his fingers against the coarse scratch of denim, while he watches Ana watch Zoya, Steve’s 17-year-old daughter, working on a tablet. Zoya tucks a strand of hair behind her hijab, then continues to draw up a storyboard, narrating the events to the younger girl. Steve had apparently forgotten the lunch his kids had made him at home, so Zoya had brought it in, and decided to stay the day.

Ana’s quiet, attentive for the most part, listening with her full capabilities, but her eyes flit away from the screen every now and then to look at you and Bucky, as if to reassure herself that you’re still there.

Besides that, there aren’t all that many distractions present for an already precocious child. Most of the team has dispersed for the investigation, with the exception of Peter, who is sat at a table in the corner making intentionally fruitless efforts at teaching Morgan chess, while she giggles and tries to stack the pieces like Jenga blocks instead.

However, Bucky’s restlessness is infectious, and you think he needs to get it under check before it grows any further. That’s why you stand, saying, “Could we go for a little walk, Bucky?”

He nods, man of few words that he is, and leads the way. You’re sure he knows that you formulated it like a request for his benefit, but he doesn’t mention it. It’s just as well – that he knows you like that, and knows when to accept the proverbial hand being offered.

Bucky takes you to a corner of the roof that you’d mistake for a community garden if you didn’t know any better. The Avengers seem to have green thumbs, or at least, a significant portion of them do. They’re good with plants, and possessive about them, too. Autumn ferns grow outside the circle they seem to have been planted in – with a sign shouting Wanda! – to invade the territory of a vegetable garden labelled Bruce (accompanied by a Hulkish, green thumbs up presumably not drawn by the man himself).  

Meticulously maintained daylilies and columbines, in vivid reds and vibrant purples, litter the edges of the path that has been carved through this little paradise, and the birdhouses between them stake the claim of the owner more effectively than a neon sign screaming Sam Wilson. Bucky’s told you about his abilities, how they veer into the decidedly supernatural but Sam insists are only the residue of a childhood with homing pigeons.

Nothing here looks like Bucky’s, though. He seems to be taking it in, perhaps thinking about his own little paradise back in the city, and how he’s chosen to keep it distant from that of his teammates. That worries you. He worries you.

And this, the situation with Anastasia, becoming a father, it’s terrifying. Hell, if it scares you this much, how is he feeling? You ask him as much.

“Bucky, are you okay?”

He laughs, softly, disbelievingly, no malice in his scoff, only fear. Only the sound of a voice saturated with consternation and total, complete anxiety. “Would you be?” He asks back.

“That’s why I’m asking.”

Bucky evades the questions, turning first one way on the path, and then the other, approaching the edge clear of shrubbery and blooms alike, resting his palms on the top of the wall.

“I can’t be a father.”

The solemnity in his tone allows no room for negotiations, but then, neither do the facts. “You are,” you reply, somewhat hesitantly, because the technicalities of how Ana came to be are still a little blurry to you. She’s far from a normal child, and not quite a clone, either. She is of Bucky, though. His, in any way that counts.

“That little girl was created in a Hydra lab as a super soldier to serve the cause,” he says, shaking his head vigorously as the cause repulses him even more than it does you. “And who knows what else she was put through before SHIELD fell and Orlov got her out, and it’s my fault.”

“You didn’t—”

“I didn’t ask for it to happen but it wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t happened. They used me to make a super soldier from scratch, and now I’m supposed to raise her? It’s not that simple. I’m not Steve. I can’t…”

Being honest, you feel you’re pretty far out of your depth here. But you’ve promised him your help, and you’ll do your best.

“You don’t have to. There are other options.” You’re sure you’re overstepping. Perhaps this gentle companionship has not yet reached the point where you can give advice on parenting. But if you don’t, who will? Steve, whose answers don’t enter the gray territory Bucky’s mind is residing in right now, who parents like he was born for it?

Steve chose fatherhood. Bucky has been nailed to it like it’s a new cross to bear, heavier than all the previous ones put together.

His gaze roams the grounds that stretch as far as you can see. You’re both far away from home right now, far outside your comfort zones.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into my mess, sweetheart. It’s not right. You have things to do, and I shouldn’t have—”

“Bucky, I’ve been staring at the same four sentences of dialogue for the past month. I literally could not have been happier to get out of the house. Even if I do wish it was under better circumstances,” you say fervently. You’re here because he needs you. Because Ana needs you. It’s nice to be needed.

“That’s one way to put it,” he smiles, and you’re glad to see it.

“Not to mention, it’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault except whoever your team is looking for,” you insist. “And Ana’s a sweet girl. A little quiet, but Baba says I was, too.”

This, Bucky thinks about. You wonder if he was a quiet child, too. “What’s he like?”

“Hmm?” The reverie snaps like a rubber band.

“Your father?” Bucky asks, shyly, his eyes meeting yours, letting you know exactly why he’s asking.

You look up at the clouds, think back to Boston, to time shared between the library and the park. A childhood with books, lunch breaks under a desk in an office at MIT, stealing his glasses and running away with them, rubbing at his stubbly beard like he was a housecat. Inside jokes with your father and rolled eyes with your mother. Laughter and tears, laughter with tears.

After a long while, trying and failing to summarize your father, you say, “A jokester. The most sarcastic person I know. But still kind of neurotic, to be honest. The kind of parent that makes you show up at the airport a full four hours before your flight.” It’s grossly insufficient. For a writer, you’re not very good with words. You suppose it’s not the words that are the problem; it’s the lifetime they have to encompass. “What about yours?”

Bucky sighs. “Soldier. He’s one thing I don’t feel bad for not remembering because it wasn’t Hydra that wiped those memories. He just died when I was really small. Survived the Great War only to be killed by TB a few years later at home.”

“I’m sorry.” You avert your eyes. Grief feels private, even decades later, even in the smallest doses.

He shakes his head, smiles fondly, up at the sky, too, like you did. Only, he’s smiling at it, like he’s thinking of someone beyond the clouds. “Don’t be. Was a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t allowed to hurt anymore.”

“You sound like my therapist.”

“I sound like my therapist.”

At this, the two of you look at each other and burst into laughter. It feels forbidden, as though the severity of the situation condemns joy. That isn’t fair, you think. The situation is that of a child, and nobody needs laughter more than kids do. Food for the soul.

When the echo of your exhilarations falls, Bucky grows serious once more. “They have them for kids, now, too, right?” He asks, referring to therapists. “Do you think Anastasia should see one? She’s not exactly… normal, you know?”

“Maybe.” It’s a difficult question, but a good indicator of how Bucky is growing to feel about Ana. “You’d make a good dad, if you wanted to be one, Bucky,” you say, and mean it. It’s plain as day that he cares about her.

“I can’t even remember my own.”

“Parental instincts are intuitive, not genetic,” you tell him.

“You been reading handbooks?” He teases.

“You’d be surprised by how much you learn from the rabbit holes you fall down while researching books,” you deadpan.

“Can any of that research get the nightmares out of my head? I think it might scare a kid.”

The self-deprecation hurts, but your response is honest, heartfelt. “She likes you already.”

“She won’t if she thinks I’ve run away,” he answers, straightening up. He might be trying to evade the conversation, but you’ll let him, for now. He’s gotten some fresh air, had some time to clear his thoughts, or sort them, at least. And so you return, to the little girl who has a tighter grip on both of you than you even realize.

------

Ana grows unsettled as night darkens the sky. It could be the ruckus she isn’t quite used to. It could be the toy fire truck Tony has been altering with his utensils to increase its noise output, much to Morgan’s amusement. It could be the actual parrot perched on Sam’s shoulder.

Whatever the cause, she hasn’t succumbed to it enough to make a seat out of the fridge again. She’s sitting in her seat, between Bucky and yourself, eating the hummus Bruce and Wanda have made. Nat discusses sniper scopes with Clint, Peter tries to get away with eating the side of vegetables on Jordan’s plate without Steve noticing, and Bucky eats silently, eyes almost constantly on Anastasia, who takes it all in while her knee bounces up and down with an ever-increasing speed, much like her father’s.

You excuse yourselves soon after dessert, after Morgan has fallen asleep against Jordan’s arm on the couch, and Steve and Tony’s friendly debate is starting to develop the edge it tends to when they’ve been bantering for too long.

Bucky sets up on the sectional in his room, and leaves the ridiculously large double bed to you and Anastasia. It’s been a strange, strange day, and one can only hope that tomorrow brings some ease, a balm for the prickly, fiery ache that has settled over the man you care so much about.

------

When you wake, it’s because of singing. For half a moment, you think you’re in a dream, but as your eyes adjust to the blanket of dark, you see the shadow on the sofa nearby. Only, it’s bigger than just Bucky. Anastasia is sitting on his lap, her head cushioned against his chest. Scrambling for your glasses, and turning on the lamp on the bedside table, you notice that there are trails of drying tears on her little cheeks, and she’s still shaking with the aftershocks of whatever scare she must’ve had during the night.

Not for the first time, you curse your deep sleep that meant you didn’t wake with Ana, but watch in wonder as Bucky sings.

Hush, little baby, don't say a word Papa's going to buy you a mockingbird

And if that mockingbird won't sing Papa's going to buy you a diamond ring

Ana’s eyes begin to close, but she fights the sleep. Bucky doesn’t let her. He lies down, easing her down beside himself, singing all the while.

And if that diamond ring turns brass Papa's going to buy you a looking glass

And if that looking glass gets broke Papa's going to buy you a billy goat

His voice fills the room, low though it may be, and he curls himself around Ana.

And if that billy goat won't pull Papa's going to buy you a cart and bull

And if that cart and bull turn over Papa's going to buy you a dog named Rover

She succumbs to the lull of his tone, his song, his promises, sighs a little sigh, lets the last, little hiccup leave her body.

And if that dog named Rover won't bark Papa's going to buy you a horse and cart

And if that horse and cart fall down You'll still be the sweetest little baby in town

Bucky lifts his hand from where it was stroking the hair at her temple, and lays his arm over his daughter. They’re safe, for now. Together.

[backtothestart02]

Breaking Point - 1/1(?) | westallen fanfiction

A/N: Based off the twitter reaction to Barry time-traveling w/o telling Iris ahead of time in 7x16. This fic is Iris’ reaction once he tells her, and it’s maybe a bit extreme? You’ll have to decide for yourself. I was feelings angsty when I wrote it and when I initially thought it up, so there’s that. If there’s a demand for more of this fic, I’ll gladly write more, but if not, the ending is open to interpretation what could happen next. Oh! And Iris is not blipping in and out of timelines and Godspeed clones didn’t prevent Barry from making it to the future. Enjoy! =P

...

Synopsis:  7x16 - Canon Divergent - Time-Travel has its consequences.

...

When Barry returned from 2049, he was brimming with energy. Lightning was still crackling all around him when he came to a stop back in STAR Labs. Chester and Caitlin looked at him, intrigued. When he didn’t say anything, only grinned, Chester couldn’t hold himself back any longer.

“Well, how is everything? Did it all go okay?”

He rocked back and forth from his toes to his heels, Barry’s enthusiasm contagious.

“Yeah,” Caitlin added, also curious but more amused than anything by the two of them. “We thought for a second that something went wrong, because-”

“No, no, nothing went wrong. Everything is great!” Barry sighed contently.

Caitlin laughed and shared a look with Chester.

“So, you found Nora,” she concluded.

“Not just Nora.”

“Oh?”

But just as he was about to spill the beans, it occurred to Barry that maybe future details should be kept where they belonged. In the future.

Except with Iris. He could tell her. In fact, right now there was nothing more that he wanted to do was tend to her and assure her Nora was all right – and she wasn’t alone.

“Yeah, I gotta go.”

He pushed past the two of them and headed towards the end of the tunnel.

“W-wait, Barry!”

Reluctantly, he stopped.

“What about Godspeed?”

“Yeah,” Chester chimed in. “If it’s bad here, it must be really bad in 2049 where he’s from.”

“Oh.” Barry forced himself to sober up. “Yeah, it is. What I mean to say is…Nora, she’s…she’s got thing’s handled, working hard.” He started smiling again. “And she has help!” Chester and Caitlin’s intrigued looks told him he had to sputter some nonsense fast. “From me! Future me, I mean. I’m still the Flash. In 23 years, I’m still…” He trailed off, daydreaming briefly about the things he’d just seen and experienced.

Sensing more questions from the two individuals in front of him however, he forced himself to snap out of it.

“Well, I gotta go! Text me when the Godspeeds return.”

“Wait, where are y-”

But it was no use. Barry had flashed away. There was no calling out to him with the expectation of him hearing and returning unless, as he’d said, the Godspeed clones returned and he was needed to attempt to defeat them.

“Let him be,” Chester said, brushing whatever questions they’d had aside. “He’s clearly happy. It’s been a while since we’ve seen him like that, what with everything going on. In fact, the last time I saw him that happy was-”

Caitlin studied him as he fell silent and avoided eye contact.

“What? When?” she asked.

“N-Nothing. Nevermind.” He powerwalked out into the hallway. “See you upstairs, Caitlin!”

She eyed his disappearing form with suspicion but decided not to push on that either. After a few more moments of contemplation, she followed the path Chester had taken back to the cortex upstairs.

…

When Barry reached the loft shortly thereafter, he was greeted by darkness and silence. It wasn’t alarming enough to dim his buzz though. He was too excited to talk to Iris. He had to remind himself that she wasn’t feeling well and to lower his voice when he talked to her, as well as maybe bring her something to eat and drink. She hadn’t vomited in a couple days, but she was still feeling under the weather. He had to contain his excitement enough to be a devoted, caring husband tending to her in her sickness.

He could do that, definitely.

As quietly as he could manage, he whipped together some chicken noodle soup and crackers and put them on a tray. Walking as stealthily as he could towards the staircase, he made it step by step without spilling the entrée.

Proud of himself for that, he gently kicked their bedroom door open with his foot.

“Iris, I brought you something.”

When he looked up, he was greeted to the sight of her reading in bed. She attempted a small smile when she saw what he was carrying and set her book to the side.

“Hey, Bear,” she said warmly, albeit with a croak to her voice. “What’s all this?”

His heart sank just a little at the sound of her, but it couldn’t quelch all the enthusiasm he had buried just beneath the surface.

He approached the bed, making sure to keep the tray even.

“The Godspeeds are currently not in Central City, at least in our time, so I thought I’d come home and dote on my wife a little.”

“Aww, you’re so sweet.”

She gripped the tray as he set it on her lap.

“And also to tell you that everything with Nora is alright.”

She froze, her hand halfway to the spoon, her other gripping the far side of the tray.

“What do you mean, alright?”

“Well…you know how I had that dream about Nora that made me think…” he trailed off, embarrassed now and not wanting to emotionally wound her like he��d done before.

“Barry,” she said softly.

“Well, I had another one, and it was…Nora was in danger, everything was wrong, I couldn’t breathe…” He shook his head, trying to shake himself of that dream. He had such a wonderful reality to replace it with now, but it was still hard to talk about.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, gently reaching for his hand.

Slowly, he sat on the side of the bed.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” he admitted. “Plus, I didn’t know if you’d think I was ridiculous for getting upset by it given the last time I dreamed of Nora…well, it came to mean nothing, didn’t it?” He frowned.

Iris closed her eyes and shook her head.

“A nightmare is a nightmare, Barry. They’re upsetting to anyone whether they mean something or not. Remember when Psych infected the whole city with nightmares? Everyone was frightened, and with good reason.”

He nodded.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

“It’s okay.” She offered a small smile. “You’re okay now it looks like.”

“Oh, yeah,” he assured her, his good mood quickly returning. “Better than okay.”

She managed a small, raspy laugh.

“And why is that?” She scooped up some broth on her spoon and blew on it.

“Well, because I went to the fu…ture.”

Belatedly, he realized that she might not like this bit of news. Especially given their two-seconds-ago talk that he should communicate things to her right away.

He gulped as he watched her lay down her spoon on the side of the bowl and set the tray on his side of the bed. He wondered if he’d still be sleeping there tonight.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Her voice was low and even, but her eyes were wild. She was not happy.

“Okay, look, I know I should’ve probably talked to you first.” He sprang up to his feet. “But Dig told me-”

“Dig was here?” she blanched.

His hand went behind his head where he awkwardly scratched.

“Yeah, he showed up with some new tech to use to help in the Godspeed war.”

She looked at him in disbelief.

“We caught one of the Godspeeds, but then he broke out and the tech broke, and I yelled at Chester, and all of this because, well…” He sat back down again. “I couldn’t stop thinking about Nora in those dreams. I was so worried about her, what all of this meant for her time. If there’s so much chaos and destruction right now in Central City, imagine in her time where they’re from. All I wanted to do was go check on her, make sure she was alright.”

“So, that’s what you did, I assume,” Iris said bitterly.

“After Dig talked me into it, yeah.”

“And who else did you tell about your grand adventure?”

Feeling uneasy now, he stood up again.

“I uh…told Cecile.”

“And?”

He swallowed. “And Chester and Caitlin.”

“So, everybody.” Angrily, Iris flung back the covers and forced herself out of bed, heading for the exit as fast as she could get there. “Everybody but me.”

“Iris, wait, please-”

He followed her at normal speed, not wanting to upset her further by jumping ahead of her in under a second.

She stopped suddenly once they got to the first floor.

“Did it ever occur to you, Barry, that this might be a bad idea?”

His eyes widened.

“Of course! It’s why I needed to be talked into it. Dig convinced me that making family my number one priority was the most important thing, more important than being here for when the Godspeeds returned again.”

“I suppose he neglected to mention how it shouldn’t be a decision you make on your own in the end, that you should discuss it with your wife, who I don’t know, maybe would die of happiness seeing her daughter again?” Her voice broke.

Barry’s heart crumbled.

“Iris, you were sick. You’re still sick. Traveling at super speed would’ve made you even more sick. Even if…even if you’re not…”

“Spit it out, Barry. If I’m not what? If I’m not pregnant?”

His eyes dipped down to the floor.

“Maybe it’s a good thing I’m not.”

His eyes flashed to hers.

“What do you mean?”

She closed some of the distance between them, no-nonsense in her tone when she spoke.

“How many times, Barry? How many times are you going to make life-changing decisions without talking to me first? Decisions that involve our children? That could change life as we know it? As they know it? Given your very happy mood when you showed up, I assume all was well in 2049?”

He gulped and nodded.

“Yes.”

“Well, suppose it won’t be after your little visit? And even if it is, Barry…you have to talk to me. It’s important that we’re a team. That’s what I signed up for when I married you, that we would communicate and be a unit in everything we did. I thought you had gotten past doing things rashly, based entirely on your emotions, but-”

“But I didn’t do it based on my emotions! I had to be talked into it, don’t you see? It was Dig that-”

“Oh, shut up about Dig!”

That silenced him.

“You used his advice as an excuse to go ahead and do what you know in your heart you were going to do anyway.”

“Iris.”

“No.” She shook her head and turned away, then stopped and looked back at him. “I thought you were ready. I thought we were ready. And I was excited when you called me a week ago claiming you knew that I was pregnant, only for it to just be based on some wishful thinking dream you had.”

He swallowed hard.

“You’re not ready, Barry. And I don’t know if you ever will be.”

Tears welled in her eyes.

Cautiously, he approached her.

“What are you saying, Iris?”

She took a breath and licked her lips.

“I’m saying I don’t want to try for Nora anymore. Not now, not for a while, maybe not… Maybe not ever.”

His jaw dropped. He couldn’t speak.

She closed her eyes and tears seeped out.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her breath hitching. “But right now, I don’t think you’d make a good father.”

Shell-shocked, he took one step back and then froze. Everything inside him came to a standstill. It even felt like his heart had stopped. Memories of meeting adult Nora again and…and her brother, who was apparently such a mama’s boy. To think they might not even exist in the future all because of this conversation right here.

He thought Iris would want to know all about their future children, but now…

“I’m going back upstairs,” she informed him, her tone clipped in the deafening silence of their living room. “Please don’t follow me.”

“Iri-” he tried, but she held up a hand to silence him.

“Don’t.”

Feeling helpless, he let her go up the stairs alone.

The sound of their bedroom door closing was so final that it seemed to echo off all the walls around him. Sensing a collapse was near, he entered the living room further and sat down on the couch, immediately putting his head in his hands and rocking slightly.

One thought clear as day drummed through his mind above all the others.

What have I done?

[siennahrobek]

Working with Obi-Wan Kenobi’s grand padawan was…different. He had heard a lot about Skywalker and Kenobi as a team through many forms – propaganda, gossip, billboards, reports, victories, losses, campaigns. They were a popular topic. They seemed to pull off some of the most insane mission parameters and come out alive from fighting varying horrifying villains and Separatists, darksiders and Sith.

Feemor quickly figured out Ahsoka was quite a bit like Anakin Skywalker. Which sounded awful, now, knowing what he had done and what he had become, but he had meant it in a better way. At least, nothing that extreme. She was fast paced and protective with a strong sense of justice and a decent moral compass. She didn’t seem to understand some of the intricacies of governments, politics and the war effort, she cared about the people. She seemed to go back and forth between cynicism and belief in people. It was an interesting combination.

He wondered if Obi-Wan could help her smooth out some of those more high-strung tendencies.

Then again, Feemor didn’t really know Obi-Wan very well either.

Feemor and Ahsoka spent most of the evacuation helping groups of people and shuttling themselves back and forth with supplies. A few recovering 501st and a of couple Coruscant Guard had joined them on one of the trips. They had lost Rex quickly into the evacuation, before even their first trip back to Ahsoka’s ship. Luckily Feemor had spotted what had happened with him and had to quickly explain to a near panicking Ahsoka that he had simply helped a padawan carry a trooper to the medical bay for surgery when she noticed his absence. He was probably still there.

***

“Are you going to take a shuttle to Obi-Wan’s venator?” Feemor asked quietly. It was their first trip back to the 332nd venator, their shuttle piled full of supplies, clothes and other resources. A few soldiers came along with them, although huddled in the back with one another. Some of them were a little too scared to be hanging around Jedi at this point. It wouldn’t be long before everyone was packed onto the ships of Obi-Wan’s forces, ready to flee away from their brainwashed friends and the Sith wanting them dead for no other reason than existing.

“I want to,” Ahsoka replied after a hesitation. She didn’t look at him. She was piloting, Feemor had gotten the impression she wouldn’t have led him pilot, even if he had tried. “I want to see him. I want him to tell me everything is going to be okay. I have so many questions. I want him to have the answers,” she paused and glanced down. “I know he won’t.”

Feemor didn’t reply, just kept his eyes on her, soft and understanding. What did one say to that?

Ahsoka just looked up into the stars once again, determined driven into her expression. “But I should stay with the 332nd. They have been burned enough by the jedi.”

He wasn’t sure what that meant exactly, as it seemed that the 332nd, although betrayed by Skywalker by brainwashing their brothers, had been, at the very least, kept away from that horrible end. Skywalker was only one jedi. What other jedi could they have been burned by?

“Will you?” her voice was quiet and a bit sudden after the stretched silence.

“Maybe,” Feemor shrugged. “Even if I don’t the first time, it isn’t a long trip to Kamino. I need to talk to him, at some point, but I don’t think there will be a good time any moment soon,” he admitted.

The young togruta glanced at him. “You haven’t taken the moment in, what? Thirty years? You never know when you will lose the chance forever. Do it quickly, Master. Before it is too late and one of you is gone.”

***

Rex jogged up to them and silently helped pack up their shuttle. He hadn’t said a word until Feemor had tried to strike up a conversation on the ride over to the 332ndship but Rex kept his answers to a bare minimum, mostly one-word answers. His hands were nearly shaking.

“I saw General Kenobi,” Rex barely muttered out while in the cockpit with Ahsoka and Feemor. The latter figured he was probably talking with her. “He seemed mostly uninjured. It was a little hard to tell because his robes were so dirty. He was wearing his old armor.”

It was the most Feemor had heard Rex speak at that point.

“Is that so. What did you talk about?” Ahsoka’s voice was almost disconnected, like she was talking through a machine. She didn’t sound interested even though Feemor was fairly certain she was.

She didn’t meet his eyes but that didn’t stop the captain from staring at her. He chose his words carefully. “Feelings, mostly.”

“Did you talk about… you know…”

Rex paused and looked away. “Some. You should probably talk about it with him yourself. I think it would do both of you some good.”

Feemor suspected they could make one more trip after this before the evacuation was complete. The end of the conversation was clear.

***

They had done several trips back and forth but this last one, was alone with only supplies in their cargo bay. They had brought up a few clones but not many, most had wanted to stay with the rest of the 501st, many of which still recovering from short surgeries.

He didn’t know how the conversation came up, but he knew why. Ahsoka cared a lot about the clones, especially those under her command. It hurt her, he imagined, watching the ones she worked personally with be brainwashed by her former master. Perhaps it was that reason that she latched onto them instead of the betrayal of her old master. Feemor had his only issues with his teacher, but they paled in comparison to hers. His master just threw him away and got himself killed by a Sith. Hers became one.

She talked, rather ranted, about the unfairness of what was happening with her friends. With Commander Appo and all of the other 501st members that she cared so much about. She talked about the blindness and cowardice of the jedi, just leaving and abandoning them to the fate of a droid, to be used by the Empire for whatever means.

Feemor tried to gently remind her that the jedi were trying to save the helpless and their children. That the jedi do not currently have the numbers or the resources or a plan to rescue them all at this time.

“The jedi will come back for them,” he promised at the end, quiet and gentle. He knew it to be true, the Jedi would come back for the clones, for anyone who needed them. It was a part of their identity, to help those who couldn’t help themselves. But it was even more poignant for the clones, he knew. The Jedi would itch to help them, unwilling to leave their friends to such a fate.

“They didn’t for me.”

Her voice was strained and angry but so quiet, Feemor nearly doesn’t hear her. He understands abandonment. His own master had repudiated for something that not only wasn’t Feemor’s fault, but also something he never had any control over. It never had anything to do with him specifically, it was Xanatos who had ruined it all. And Qui-Gon’s love for Xanatos had just torn the older master apart even more.

He did not remind her that the Jedi did ask her to return.

She was just upset and mixing her feelings, much like any teenager who had been wronged, would.

“They’re just trying to survive, Ahsoka,” Feemor replied, instead. “We cannot help the clones if we are all dead.”

Ahsoka had stopped talking and stared out at the venators they passed, peacefully and ignorantly sweeping the planet, orbiting in a protective barrier, waiting for an attack that would probably never come. Her gaze had settled on one, just a little out of the way, further than the others out in the open space before she turned the controls, sharply curving them towards the ship, instead of away from it.

“Ahsoka, what are you doing?” Feemor asked warily.

The teenager didn’t answer. Instead, she turned the ship even tighter and then straightened out towards the unfamiliar venator.

“Ahsoka!” he yelped. “That is not the ship we want!”

She continued to hold her silence and no matter what Feemor says or does, she continues to fly their shuttle right toward the docking area of the larger venator. She even used the Force to push him nearly out of the chair when he tried to stop her.

“You are going to get us killed,” he hissed. “I’m sure plenty, if not all, of the Coruscant Guards have had their chips activated!”

Swallowing hand, she slowed down, now far too close to turn back now, clicking in comm codes and landing on the outskirts of the bay with a heavy thunk. The Jedi master stared at her, eyes wide.

“We need to get out of here,” he tried again but the togruta female just stood, stone faced and determined. “The rest of the Jedi are going to be leaving soon and we need to be with the 332nd so we can keep up with them.”

“We are going to take this ship,” Ahsoka announced, her tone giving no room for debate. She stood up and grabbed her sabers, marching away. Feemor sighed, running his hands along his face. This was going to be something else.

The clones, so engrossed in their chip activation, had not even noticed the unscheduled landing of an unfamiliar shuttle.

It didn’t stop Feemor from hesitating when they snuck off the ship. As they snuck down the ramp, out of sight, he glanced around. A partially crashed into the wall was a Jedi Delta-7 Interceptor, complete with a dead jedi inside, the bubble that usually encased them in the cockpit broken apart in shards. Neither of them recognized her but she was easily identified as a jedi, even from a distance. She had been shot several times; her chest riddled with blaster shots. Her gorget armor piece had helped her survive, at least until she had got to her ship, but she hadn’t gotten any farther. The engine had been shot out. Feemor hoped she died on impact; he didn’t know if her killers would have had granted her a quick death from bleeding out.

Ahsoka snarled. Feemor looked and felt sick.

A couple of the nonclone natborn officers were laughing on the balcony. The hum and although dulling light were easily distinguishable and identifiable as a lightsaber, whirling and flying through the air. They had taken her lightsaber. They had taken it and were playing with it like it was some kind of toy.

“It’s not even that they don’t care,” Ahsoka choked out, nearly in tears. “They are happy,they are glad, we are being killed off.”

Feemor noticed her use of the term we. It continued.

“We are being killed and they are celebrating…they love that we are dying, leaving our bodies to rot without care, where we are cut down. Distracting us, our ways, playing with part of our souls like children while they murder our children.”

She just cried silently.

“Come on, Ahsoka. Let’s find a place to hide and make a plan.”

***

The two of them snuck through the halls, barely keeping out of sight of the clones. With nothing in their minds, it was easy to keep their attention away. They didn’t want to see anyone – they didn’t see anyone so using a brief signal in the Force to look away was easy to the both of them.

They hid in a few closets, taking down several key troopers throughout some of the ship during their way to the bridge, stripping them of weapons and communications and giving them heavy sleep suggestions. They would be out for hours at the very least. They had talked about a plan, to take the bridge and use the natborn officers to take over the ship. Lock them all in the bridge, including Feemor and Ahsoka, which would keep the clones out but still safe. The plan hadn’t gotten much further than that.

Nearing the bridge, Feemor had pulled Ahsoka into a supply closet as several officers had passed by. To their infinite luck, the officers had stopped nearby to speak to one another, forcing the two jedi to stay in the closet until they were done with their conversation and passed out of sight.

“Master Obi-Wan will like you,” Ahsoka declared, confidently. Her voice was hushed and subdued, but it did nothing to take away from the sentiment.

“You think so?” A welcome topic for Feemor, to be sure.

“I dragged you into something random and unexpected and dangerous. You tried to talk me out of it but then, eventually, just went with it and helped me,” Ahsoka explained. “Just trust me on this one.”

***

“I kind of prefer them this way,” one of the officers noted, watching as lines of clone troopers marched, perfect and silent, down the hall. “They don’t talk, pretending to be men. They just do what they are told.”

“Without complaint,” another snickered, giving one of the clones a shove. The man sprawled to the ground, helmet smashing into the floor. He just got up and kept walking again. No one had even flinched.

Both of the officers laughed.

Ahsoka nearly burst out from their hiding place around the corner, but Feemor held her back. They were close but they couldn’t give away their position yet. It would surely get them killed.

He pulled her away, towards the bridge. They were so close.

As they got nearer, Feemor and Ahsoka dipped into an empty room to prepare. “Three guards, all clones,” Feemor reported, taking a glance in the direction. He pulled back as Ahsoka’s lightsaber snapped in her hands, unignited.

“I’m faster,” Ahsoka noted. It was true of course, if only because she was so much younger than him, but he was rather amused at her assumption of his lack of speed. He wasn’t lacking, as he had noted to himself, the only thing she had on him in terms of that was youth. “You handle the guards with sleep suggestions, and I’ll start clearing a path in the bridge.”

Feemor actually found it a tad entertaining and a bit insulting as well that she had to clarify the sleep suggestion part, as if she thought he was going to purposefully murder a couple of brainwashed clones. “We need some of them alive, Ahsoka,” he shot back.

She turned to stare at him momentarily. “Yeah. Yeah. I know.”

Taking the bridge wasn’t difficult. They didn’t see it coming and were completely unprepared for an assault by two jedi. Ahsoka had taken out the communications officer first – all of the bridge had been quickly replaced with natborns, unsurprisingly – and had nearly taken off his limbs. In the end, it hadn’t mattered. He was dead.

A few of the officers did end up dead, mostly due to Feemor and Ahsoka reflecting blaster bolts back at them. The rest had surrendered fairly quickly. Upon ordering communications throughout the ship to be blocked, Ahsoka worked on the technology part of the controls of the ship, while Feemor cuffed and herded their hostages away from said controls.

“Alright,” Feemor smiled, something wicked and cold. “This is how things are going to go. We are the leaders on the ship now. You will stay here for the duration of your stay. You will not communicate with anyone – not that you could anyways – and if you somehow do, upon someone figuring out what has happened because of it, bad things will happen. You will not let any of the clones on the bridge or tell them that we are here. Do you understand the rules?”

Everyone was rather hesitant, shooting him horrible looks but they nodded.

“Fantastic. Then, we can move along,” he turned and walked towards Ahsoka, keeping a blatant eye on their prisoners.

“Ah, Ahsoka?” he questioned. “This was great and all but now we have at least hundreds of brainwashed clones aboard. What are we going to be doing with them?”

Ahsoka just shrugged. “For now, nothing.”

Ahsoka walked towards the holotable in the middle of the bridge, Feemor trailing behind her uncertainly. She clicked in a comm code and Feemor shifted uncomfortably on the other side of the table. He couldn’t believe they had taken the ship. Keeping it, that was going to be another story. He had no idea what she had in mind; what she was going to do with this entire ship full of brainwashed clones. It wasn’t like the two of them could just take them down or something.

Jesse and Echo, if Feemor remembered correctly, popped up on the table in the blue holoform. “Commander!” Echo greeted, easily. “We were expecting you back hours ago! Is everything okay?”

“Just fine, Echo,” Ahsoka nodded, seriously. “Any word on General Kenobi’s ships and the other Jedi around?”

“Leaving quite soon sir,” Jesse responded this time. “The last couple of ships have left the planet. They will be leaving for Kamino promptly. Rex said he is going to stay with the… with the rest of the 501st, Appo isn’t doing so well.”

“We actually suggested it,” Echo butted in. The look on their faces were pained and mournful. Jesse struggled to speak again but once he started, his voice got stronger.

“What about you, where are you?”

“When are you coming?”

Ahsoka paused and took a deep breath. Feemor watched, carefully. “You go on to Kamino without us, boys,” she started.

The other two began to protest, rather vehemently. “Never sir!”

“You really think we would leave without you?”

Ahsoka nearly let out a laugh but settled for a smirk. “Don’t worry. I will meet you on our next destination. Master Feemor and I…. well, we found ourselves another ride.

[rafecameron]

roommates

request: The guys all went to college and Luke meets his roommate Julie instant attraction but neither want to mess up there room situation but one week it changes and Luke gets sick with the flu and Julie takes care of him, and while bed ridden truths are admitted about falling for each other and they get together please

pairing: luke patterson x julie molina

word count: 9.7k

a/n: my first time writing for juke and this got long...hope you enjoy! also requests are currently closed!

Luke was sure he had never felt excitement quite like this before. Sure he got excited when playing a gig or basically every time he practiced, but this was different. Picking up a guitar was bouncy adrenalin and electricity, this was like vibrating with hope and pride. He had done it, he had gotten into college - something most people thought wasn’t possible. Now he was free and independent, he could do whatever he wanted, he was practically an adult. He pinballed down the hallway, leaving his friends at their rooms and hurriedly searching for his own. He was sure even a bad roommate wouldn’t be able to dampen his spirits. He stops in front of room 205, double checking on the paper he had been given and once certain this was his room he placed the key in the lock and entered his new home for the first time.

His face was taken over with a frown, one of amusement more than annoyance, the sight in the room as not as he had expected. He had anticipated two beds, a couple desks, a wardrobe, maybe a roommate unpacking his stuff. The furniture was as expected, but both beds were littered with clothes and possessions, a suitcase laying open and half unpacked on one.

“Oh my god!” A female voice interrupts his assessment of the room, “I was hoping you wouldn’t be here yet.” She chews on her lower lip as she looks around at the mess she had made, “I swear I’m not usually this messy, I just packed a lot of stuff...A lot of stuff.” She repeated herself more quietly as she looks from the mess and back up to the cute boy in the doorway.

“It’s cool.” Luke finally shrugs, the mess suddenly forgotten as his struggles to pull his eyes away from the girl in front of him, “I’m Luke, by the way.” He holds out a hand and she surges forward to take it in hers.

“Julie.” She smiles, she had the kind of smile that was contagious, it caught onto Luke instantly and his face lit up, her hand felt soft in his own and he almost didn’t want to let go.

“Here.” The girl - Julie - quickly grabs her clothes off the second bed, throwing them into her opened suitcase, “I already chose a bed, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” Luke says as he places his bags down onto the bed which was to be his, “Are you sure there’s room to put all that.” He chuckles watching her cram jumpers into an already full drawer.

“Not at all.” Julie huffs, hands on her hips as she turns around, blowing a piece of hair out of her face, “But I gotta make it fit.”

Luke chuckles and turns to his own bag, unzipping it and starting to pull out his things. Lucky for the girl he hadn’t brought much stuff, he knew he wouldn’t need much room so offered some of his storage space to her, which she was more than happy to accept. Luke had never imagined he would be sharing rooms with a girl, not that he minded at all - in a completely non creepy way. Julie seemed cool and energetic like himself, he was already certain they would get along like a house on fire and couldn’t wait to introduce her to his friends. It also didn’t hurt that she was one of if not the most gorgeous girl he had ever laid eyes on, he wouldn’t make a move due to the room situation but it wouldn’t hurt anyone for him to admire her from afar.

They spent their time unpacking getting to know each other. He found out that she was in the music program like himself, and that she also enjoyed horror movies, karaoke and onion rings. He was sure this girl couldn’t get anymore perfect if she tried and he thanked the heavens that they had placed him in a room with her.

“So are you here alone?” Julie asks, taking a seat cross legged in the middle of her bed once all her belongings were in their new homes, “I came here with my best friend, she’s down the hall. She’s pretty bummed that we didn’t get to share but at least this way we get to meet new people.” She shrugs.

“That’s cool, I came with my friends too.” He falls back onto his bed, leaning against the headboard and kicking his legs out in front of him, “They’re also down the hall.” He points in the opposite direction to the way she had, “Two of them are sharing somehow, Alex and I got split up but like you said, it’s the perfect opportunity to meet new people.”

“I love my best friend but I think if we shared a room it would be a disaster. You saw how many clothes I have, she has double that, maybe even triple!” She laughs, “She’s a style icon.” she adds using her friends own words.

“So there’s basically two of you?” Luke chuckles, “I’m excited to meet her, if she’s anything like you she’ll be great.”

“Wow, we’ve only just met and you’re already over there with the flattery!” Julie teases, “But really, I’m excited to meet your friends too, they sound great. I mean, Reggie sounds a little...odd, but still great.” She chuckles, “Oh! We should plan a night to hang out before lessons start! Like go for a meal or have a movie night or something.”

“Actually that’s a great idea!” Luke agrees sitting up, “I’m gonna go see how they’re settling in, I’ll pitch the idea and see when you want to do it.” He jumps off the bed and heads to the door.

“I best go see what Flynn’s up to before she yells at me for not coming to hang out quick enough.” Julie rolls her eyes but the smile on her face shows fondness.

The pair say their goodbyes and walk opposite ways down the hallway. Luke knocks on the door which he had left Reggie and Bobby at, happy to see that Alex was already sitting inside on the edge of one of their beds.

“Hey guys, how's the rooms? How’s the roomie, Alex?” He asks, helping himself to one of the cans of drink on Bobby’s side table.

Alex’s grin reaches from ear to ear, “I have the best roommate ever and I think I’m in love.” Alex replies with a content sigh.

“I do not want to hear this story again.” Bobby shakes his head and takes the can from Luke’s hand, taking a sip as he shoots his fellow guitarist a glare, “How’s your roommate?”

“Sorry to tell you this dude, but I think I have the best roommate,” He chuckles, “Not only is she gorgeous, but she’s seriously so cool. She sings and plays piano and we’re into all the same stuff.”

“Woah wait!” Reggie launches himself up from where he had been laying across his bed, “You’re rooming with a girl?!”

Luke chuckles at his friend's shocked expression, “Yeah man! Apparently they do that here! She didn’t even seem surprised she was sharing it with a guy.”

“I’m gonna go see if it’s too late to switch!” He makes a mad dash towards the door and Bobby grabs a hold of the back of his shirt.

“Don’t even think about it.” he pushes his friend back into the room, “Besides, with your luck you’ll probably end up with the worst roommate ever. A star wars fan or something.”

“There is nothing wrong with star wars!” Reggie defends with a pout, “You’re just too sour to admit you like it.”

Bobby rolls his eyes, an amused smile on his face, “If that’s what helps you sleep at night man.” He shakes his head and plops down into the chair at his desk, “So, what’s on the agenda?”

“Well actually, me and Julie were thinking we could all hang out, her friends here too.” Luke bounces on his heels as he relays the plan.

“Oooh, Julie!” Reggie grins sitting back down on his bed.

Luke picks up the nearest item, a toothbrush, and throws it at his friend, laughing as it bounces off the side of his head.

“Hey! That wasn’t very - Oh, I was looking for this! Thanks!” He smiles at the object and places it on his bedside table.

Alex and Luke share a look as Bobby lets out a groan, “Maybe I will let him switch rooms.”

“Anyway,” Luke drags out the word and bounces into the room, “We were thinking we could go out for food or something, before lessons start. You guys will seriously love her.”

“I think you love her.” Alex comments, a knowing smile on his face as Luke leans over to whack him across the back of the head.

“I only just met her!” He complains.

“Yeah, but you love her.” Reggie joins in.

Further down the hallway Julie is being subjected to the same levels of teasing from the girl she calls her best friend.

“Okay so wait, tell me again.” Flynn demands as she paces in front of her friend who was perched on the edge of her bed.

“I’m not telling you again!” Julie laughs, “Do you want to hang out with them or not.”

Flynn shoots her a glare before stopping her pacing and smiling, “Okay, fine. But only so I can see if this guy is good enough for you.”

Julie rolls her eyes, “That is not the only reason! Beside’s, it doesn’t matter anyway. Even if you are right, which I’m not saying you are!” She adds as Flynn grins wider at her, “It’s not like anything could happen. We share a room, could you imagine that in a break up? That’s too much to risk.”

Flynn sighs, she knows her friend is right, but that doesn’t mean she won't continue teasing her about her ‘super cute roommate’ forever. As soon as Julie had reached her friend's room she had started gushing about how cute he was, how much alike her he was and how much she couldn’t wait for her friend to meet him. Flynn knew when her friend had a crush, and boy did this girl have a crush on Luke. Even if she wouldn’t admit to it.

“So tomorrow night?” Julie confirms as she hovers in her friend's doorway.

“Yes! Now go, flirt, have fun.” Flynn shoos her from her room, poking her head out the door to watch her friend walk away, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” She calls, slamming the door before she could reply.

Julie whips around, mouth open ready to shout back when she hears the slam of the door. She just smiles to herself and shakes her head, hating how well Flynn could read her. So maybe she did have a little crush on Luke, but she was sure it was just because he was cute. Once they got to know each other properly and became friends it would fade away into nothing. Besides that, she meant it when she told Flynn it could never happen. There was too much to risk. And would a cute boy like Luke like her back? Not a chance. She entered her new room, humming to herself as she thought about a messy head of hair, surprised to see sed head of hair back on his bed.

“Oh, I didn’t think you’d be back.” she comments as she shuts the door behind herself.

“Is that a problem?” Luke asks, looking up from the notebook in front of him with a slight smirk.

“No problem,” Julie shakes her head, “Flynn is down to meet up. We were thinking tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow works fine for me and the guys.” Luke agrees, scribbling something else in his book before closing it and tucking it under his pillow.

“Songs?” Julie asks and Luke nods his head.

“No snooping!” He warns her with a pointed finger and a chuckle.

Julie holds up her hands as she walks around her bed, “Wasn’t thinking about it.” She defends herself.

They spend the rest of the night talking, about anything they can think of. Homelife, Julie talks about her mum, her dad and her little brother, throwing in little bits about her aunt. Luke tells her about his rocky relationship with his parents, something he doesn’t usually like to talk about. Julie just felt like someone he could confide in. Like she would understand without ever judging. They talked about music, what they liked to listen to, what they liked to play. Luke couldn’t help but smile and feel a little sad when Julie spoke about how she used to write songs with her mum. She promised to play him one sometime if he showed her one of his which he instantly agreed to.

By the time they stopped talking and called it a night it was well past a normal bedtime hour. Luke was certain he’d never talked to someone that much when he had just met them. He went to sleep that night feeling like the luckiest guy around. The next couple years were going to be some of the best of his life.

Luke spent the next day in his room finishing up some songs he had been working on before the trip up to college. Julie had gone to help Flynn unpack - apparently the girl was struggling to find places to store her masses of clothes and shoes. The girl returned in the afternoon to find Luke in the exact same spot she had left him in at lunchtime.

“Have you not moved once?” Julie laughs, hanging her jacket up on the back of the door.

“Uh, not really.” Luke replies. He looks up from his writing, watching the girl tie her hair into a quick ponytail at the back of her head before sitting down at her desk.

“Well you best make a move now, we’re meeting for dinner in an hour.” Julie informs him, emptying her makeup bag onto the desk and pulling her small mirror closer for her to see.

“Yeah, it wont take me long to get ready.” Luke replies, dragging his eyes away from the girl and back to his book, “I’ve almost finished this last bit.”

Julie hums in reply, tilting her head back as she applied a fresh coat of mascara to her lashes. Once Luke had finished scribbling - planning on revisiting it the next day to make any edits with a fresh head - he looked up and watched Julie getting ready. He was mesmerized by her, sitting at her desk, humming along to a tune in her head as she applied make up and finally brushed out her hair with her fingers.

“You know, all this time you’ve sat watching me you could have been ready by now.” She turns to him, a smug smirk appearing on her lips as he looks away quickly, a pink blush rushing to his cheeks.

“I wasn’t watching you, I was just,” He thought for a second before chuckling, “Watching you.” He admits.

“I know, I could see you in my mirror,” She teases, “Learning how to apply eyeshadows?”

“Something like that.” Luke grins, the blush insistent on staying on his face as he climbs off of his bed to finally get changed and ready.

After he was ready - after Julie complaining the whole time about how long it was taking when he promised he would be quick - they made their way out into the hallway to meet their friends. Introductions were quick and conversation was instantly flowing as they made their way out of the building and towards their chosen restaurant. Alex had invited along his roommate Willie who he was already infatuated with. Willie already seemed to notice that Alex was into him and seemed to return the feelings, joking around with each other on the walk like they were in their own little bubble.

Luke couldn’t have been more happy for his friends. Alex who was anxious about this whole thing, worrying about who he would be rooming with and if they would be okay with him being gay, seemed pretty happy with his new set up. Bobby and Reggie were bickering as usual, the playful arguing between the two nothing out of the ordinary. Luke walked at the back of the group with Julie and Flynn, listening to the two girls - mostly Flynn - chatting away.

He already felt perfectly at home, more comfortable in his surroundings than he had felt in a long time. He hadn’t been worried about his old friends getting along with his new one, but he was still grateful that there was no awkwardness. It felt like they were already well onto their way in being their own little family and it sparked a warmness inside Luke which he hadn’t imagined. They boys had been his main family for a long time now and he was excited to invite more people into that circle. Luke wasn’t usually a quiet person, but he was enjoying taking a step back for once watching his friends goofing around.

Once inside the restaurant Luke placed himself between Reggie and Bobby, half to stop the arguing for an hour or two and half because Julie had sat herself on the opposite side right in front of him.

“Are we getting starters? Please tell me we’re getting starters.” Reggie grabs up a menu the minute he hits his seat, opening it up and scanning the options.

“We can get starters.” Luke laughs, picking up two menus and handing one over to Julie.

After everyone had ordered and drinks had arrived the conversation soon turned to music, a usual topic for him and his friends. Flynn was telling them all about Double Trouble, which Julie kept reminding her was not their band name. And Reggie jumped straight in to tell everyone about Sunset Curve.

“Do you think we should scout the area? See where we can get gigs?” Bobby suggests.

“Definitely!” Flynn beams, “I’m a good manager, I’ll get us all gigs.” She throws her hair over her shoulder as she talks, a proud look on her face, “I booked all our gigs back home.”

“Queen of marketing.” Julie agrees pointing a thumb over to her friend.

The conversations flow through the whole meal, never a quiet moment even when they were all stuffing their faces. It was amazing how a group of people could all be so different yet so similar at the same time. Luke had to wonder if they had met under different circumstances if they would all still be friends, he liked to think they would.

After dinner they walked to the ice cream parlour down the street and then made their way around the small town looking for bars and venues. Flynn was typing away notes on her phone about each place they stopped to examine, searching for phone numbers and emails she could use to book them gigs. As the evening wore on the group slowly began splitting up, Willie and Alex going off so Willie could show him some skating tricks as promised.

“Bobby and I were thinking we should go bowling! There’s an alley the other side of town that looks good.” Reggie explains.

“Bowling?” Luke pulls a face, “I hate bowling.”

“You hate bowling?” Flynn exclaims, “Why don’t you like fun? I’m in, I’m going to thrash both of you.” She points to the boys, “Julie?”

“I’m good.” Julie laughs, “You go have fun, and you better win!”

“Oh, I will.” She smirks before hurrying off with the guys leaving just the two of them behind.

“You hate bowling?” Julie asks him.

“Yeah, it's so boring!” He complains, “You throw a ball, knock over some pins, then sit for ten minutes waiting for another go. No thanks.”

Julie laughs and shakes her head, “Flynn’s right, you don’t like fun.”

“Hey I like fun, okay!” Luke defends himself, “That’s just not fun, unless you’re five or Reggie.”

“Whatever,” Julie shrugs, “So what should we do for the rest of the evening?”

Luke thinks for a moment before turning to her with a smile, “We could show each other those songs we promised?”

“Okay!” Julie beams, “But you’re going first.”

She walks off ahead of him back to their dorms, throwing a smile over her shoulder as he follows on behind. Inside their room Julie pulls out her keyboard and sets it on the desk ready to perform, sitting in her chair and waiting impatiently as Luke tunes his guitar.

“C’mon!” She moans, “It sounds fine, just play something!”

“It sounds fine?” Luke laughs, “It’s so out of tune! Do you even play guitar?”

“No, but I know what one sounds like.” She rolls her eyes.

Luke finishes up tuning it, opening his notebook onto one of the new songs he had been writing, “Okay, this isn’t planned to be an acoustic song and I haven’t really worked out a solid melody yet, but I think I can make it work. It’s called Bright.”

Julie nods her head, crossing one leg over the other and resting her hands on her knees as he began to play a few chords. He played through the song, making up the melody for the lyrics as he went along and making mental notes of the bits he liked. He didn’t look up while singing because he was nervous. Luke Patterson was actually nervous about performing for the first time in his life. But then again, he had never performed to just one pretty girl before who was also a musician, he felt more vulnerable than he ever had before. Like he was laying his soul bare for her to see and judge. It was an exhilarating feeling, he loved it no matter how anxious he was feeling.

He looked up slowly as he strummed the last chord, Julie was staring at him, a smile on her lips. She found that watching him was one of the best things she had seen, she loved when someone got lost in the music they were playing and Luke did just that. His voice was unique, not quite how she expected him to sound but she loved it, it sent tingles through her body and made butterflies erupt in her stomach.

“That was,” She breathes out, trying to think of a word good enough to explain how she felt, “I don’t even have words. That was amazing. Your voice is beautiful and those lyrics, wow, Luke that song is seriously amazing.”

Luke beams at her, the nervousness in his system being stamped out by her compliments and replaced with elation. He places his guitar at the side of his bed and brings his legs up to sit cross legged on his comforter.

“Thanks! Like I said, it’s just rough at the moment.” He rubs the back of his neck, not being able to find the words to express how he felt about her complimenting him.

“Well if that was rough you’re making me feel really bad about mine.” She half jokes.

“Oh come on, I bet yours is amazing, let me hear it!” He places his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, smiling over at her in anticipation.

“Okay,” She stretches her arms in front of her, nodding her head once, “I’m kind of cheating, this is one my mum wrote for me, but it’s one of my favourites. Remember that song I said I found on the piano after she…” She trails off and Luke nods his head to show he remembered, “Well this is it. It’s called Wake Up.”

Luke grins as she turns to her keyboard, a little sad that he wouldn’t get to watch her face as she sang. Her fingers touched the keys and the room was filled with the sweet sound of her playing, soon accompanied by her voice. Luke was instantly taken aback by the sheer power this girl had inside of her. He could tell she was feeling every word that left her lips, her head tilted back at points as she let the music wash over her. He almost didn’t notice when she had finished, too lost in his trance to realise she had turned to face him.

“Well?” She asks, lower lip between her teeth, a little nervous that he had yet to say anything.

“Wow.” Was all he managed out in a breathy voice.

Julie blushes and lowers her head, a soft laugh leaving her lips. Luke pulls himself together and sits up again, shaking off the feeling of floating and situating himself back in the moment, “Julie, that was incredible!” He jumps off his bed, arms and hands emphasising his emotions, “That was...I can’t even describe it! You have a talent, a real talent, I’ve never heard someone sing like that. It was...mesmerising.”

“Stop!” Julie turns and buries her face in her hands, shoulders shaking a little as she giggled, “Stop, you’re making me flustered!”

“I won't stop!” Luke bounces towards her, “You need to know how insanely talented you are. I’m gonna tell you every day for the rest of your life.”

“We’re gonna be friends for the rest of our lives?” She teases, trying to change the topic of conversation.

“Well I hope so.” Luke says as he sits back down again, “I’d be pretty sad if we weren't. I’m gonna be there when you take over the world with your voice.”

Julie laughs again, moving to sit on her bed facing Luke, “Well I’d be happy to have you there. You can open for me.”

Luke knows that was meant to tease him but he just smiled and nodded, “It would be an honour.”

“Alright, okay, enough of the flattery! If you carry on, my head might get to the same size as yours.” She laughs.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Luke looks at her feigning shock.

“Oh c’mon, Mr ‘Sunset Curve are the best band on the planet’, and Sir ‘I’m the best rockstar this world will ever know.’” She raises her brows at him.

Luke looks at her for a moment, a genuine smile on his face before he holds his hands up, “Okay, I may have said that.” he agrees.

“May have? You said that like a half hour ago!” Julie throws a pillow at him before pulling her legs up under herself.

“Alright! But someone has to praise me; it may as well be myself.” He grins, throwing the pillow back over to her.

She leans over, picking the tv remote off her bedside table and chucks it over to him, “You choose the movie, I’m going to put joggers on.” She hops off the bed, picking up some comfy clothes on her way to the bathroom.

Luke quickly gets changed himself and lays back on his bed, flicking through the movies on netflix for something to watch. He goes straight to the horror section, skimming over the selection before landing on Dead Silence.

“Ever seen this one?” He asks, pointing the remote at the tv as Julie walks back into the room.

“Is that a puppet?” She frowns.

“It’s a ventriloquist doll.” Luke rolls his eyes, “See the mouth?”

“Sounds creepy, put it on.” She throws her clothes into her hamper and crawls under her covers, pulling them up to her chin ready to watch the movie.

“Is that so you can hide quickly?” He teases at how she was tucked away.

“Shut up and play the damn movie.” she glares over at him playfully.

Luke chuckles and hits play, his eyes moving between the screen and the girl throughout the movie.

The following months were extremely busy for the group of friends. Between balancing school, homework, hang outs and practice it was hard for any of them to find time to themselves. It was exhausting and Luke was looking forward to the weeks off of school that came with the winter break. He hadn’t planned on going home over the holidays, perfectly fine with staying by himself in the halls. His rocky relationship with his parents had only worsened  while he was away, neither of them liking the fact that he was studying music instead of something ‘useful’ as they put it.

As the last classes of the year rolled around Luke was finding it increasingly hard to stay focused. He had never been good at school even if it was a subject he liked. He found it hard to stay focused on one thing, especially if it wasn’t something of his choosing like the current lessons. He couldn’t comprehend why he needed to learn about classical music in order to be a rockstar. Sure, he appreciated the art form, he enjoyed any sorts of music. But that didn’t mean he wanted to study it nor write a thesis on the matter.

It also didn’t help that he couldn’t get a certain dark haired girl out of his mind. The hopes of his little crush on Julie fading as time went on were futile, his infatuation with the girl only growing the more he got to know her. She wasn’t just a pretty, no, beautiful face. She was talented, caring, smart, funny, everything you could ever want in a person all wrapped up in one. That made it increasingly hard for him to forget his growing feelings and focus on her as being nothing more than a friend. Sure he thought that maybe she flirted with him at times, but she shared the same teasing nature with Reggie and Alex too, Flynn even, so he convinced himself it meant nothing.

So he made a vow with himself to never tell the girl how he felt, even if it would break his heart the last thing he wanted to do was make her feel uncomfortable - which confessing his feelings would surely do.

Once his last lecture of the year was over he slammed his books shut, shoving them into the bottom of his backpack where they would stay until the new year. Tonight was the last night they were all going to be here together. Reggie, against his best wishes, was going home for the holidays much like Bobby, Flynn and Julie. Alex was going to be spending it with Willie’s family, they had been dating for two months now. Luke was the only one going to be left behind, and despite all of his friends begging them to go back with one of them, he declined every invite. He’d rather be alone than invade anyone’s time with their families. Besides, it would give him plenty of time to work on new songs for the album he and the guys were planning. He was sure by the time they all returned he would have at least half of the songs ready to rehearse.

The group had planned to go out that night for a little holiday celebration of their own. Flynn and Julie had found a karaoke bar on the other side of town which they had been dying to show the guys, so tonight seemed like the perfect opportunity to go. Luke flew into his room, throwing his bag into a corner to be forgotten about.

“That doesn’t look like packing.” Luke frowns as Julie sits on her bed, her laptop open in front of her and her glasses pushed up on her nose.

She looks up at the sound of his voice, half closing the laptop as she moves her glasses to rest on top of her head, “Oh, change of plans, I’m not going home.”

Luke’s frown only deepens as he pulls his beanie hat off his head and throws it onto his bed, “How come? You were excited to see your family.”

“I know,” Julie replies, “But they’re visiting other relatives for the holidays and it’s a pretty long drive from here, so I said I’d go up for the new year instead.”

“Oh, right. Well I’m sorry, I know how excited you were to go home.” Luke offers a small smile.

Julie quickly waves him away with her hand, “Don’t it’s fine, I’m still getting to go home just...later.” She smiles, “I’m sorry for you, you’re gonna have to put up with me for longer.”

Luke laughs, kicking his shoes off and sitting down on his bed, “I’m sure I can cope with that.”

“Are you ready for karaoke tonight?” She asks, finally shutting her laptop completely and moving it to the side, “Flynn hasn’t shut up about it all day.”

“Yeah, I can’t wait to show you all up.” He laughs.

That night the karaoke bar was packed, mosty with students from their college. The group each had a turn on the stage while rounds of drinks kept flowing. As the night wore on the group got increasingly intoxicated, their fake ID’s which they didn’t often use finally coming in handy.

“Oh my god!” Flynn slaps her hands down onto the table gaining everyone’s attention, “You two,” She points a finger at Luke and then Julie, “Duet, now!”

“What?” Julie laughs, “Noooo, c’mon no one else has done a duet!”

“Yeah! If anyone’s dueting it’s you and Reggie, I’m down for some country rap.” Luke jokes.

“No.” Flynn points another finger at him, “I’ve been dying to hear you sing together. How many times have I said your voices would fit perfectly together? Thousands! Now get up there and sing!” she points to the stage dramatically.

Luke and Julie both try and protest but their friends all quickly join in on Flynn’s side.

“I would love to see a duet.” Willie agrees with nods from the group, “C’mon! What’s there to be scared of?”

“We’re not scared!” Luke defends, though on the inside he may have been a little petrified.

It was hard enough hiding his feelings for Julie on the best of days, but singing with her? On stage? Being that close to her while performing, having her look into his eyes and sing? He was sure he would spontaneously combust which would not be a pretty sight for anyone.

“You’re chickens.” Bobby decides, “Both of you. How about you just admit you’re in love and get up there and sing about it.”

“What?” Luke sputters while Julie looks on wide eyed, “We’re not - we are not - I am not - We’re not in love!” He finally blurts, “Fine, you want a show, we’ll give you a show.” he stands up from the table, his competitive nature and the alcohol getting the better of him.

“We will?” Julie asks before standing up to join him, “Yeah! We will! You just sit and watch.” She points around the table before the pair march off to choose a song.

“I mean, it will be fun.” She agrees with a shrug as they look through the song book, “We would do a christmas song?” She suggests.

“What, like fairytale of new york so I can insult you?” He chuckles, “Maybe not.”

“Something from a musical?” she points to a couple songs from the likes of high school musical and chicago.”

Luke shakes his head at that idea too before finally spotting a good song. “That one!” They both exclaim pointing to the song at the same time.

“Hm, I never took you for a dirty dancing fan.” Julie muses as she looks up at him.

“Are you kidding? I love that movie.” He laughs.

With their song chosen they make their way onto the stage, each picking up a mic as the opening notes to Time of my Life plays out, cheers erupting from their friends at their choice of a love song.

They start off singing on their own sides of the stage, sharing the occasional glance. But when the song really kicked in they met in the middle, Luke’s mic forgotten at his side as he shared Julies. They dance around the stage, singing to each other like they were the only two people left in the world, the crowd and bar around them completely forgotten. He got lost so easily in her eyes, like nothing else mattered when he was staring into them. By the end of the song he stepped back, letting Julie take the last notes as he held her gaze, her words sung to him and him only.

They were finally brought back to reality at the sound of cheering around them, both of them tearing their gaze away and back out to the room. Flynn was jumping up and down clapping while his friends banged loudly on the table trying to create the most noise in the place.

“That was amazing guys.” The DJ comments as they hand their mics back, “Cute couple.”

“Oh we’re not a…” Julie trials off with a shrug as the man walks away, Luke shares a nervous laugh with her as they make their way back to the table.

“That was pure fire!” Flynn jumps up at them.

“The chemistry was just oozing out!” Reggie comments earning strange looks from the pair.

“We asked him not to use that word.” Alex sighs, “But he’s right. It was intense.”

“It was just karaoke guys.” Luke rolls his eyes as he takes his seat, “Nothing to write home about.”

“Yeah, you wanted a love song, we gave you a love song.” Julie comments, sitting beside Luke and grabbing her drink.

“Whatever guys, keep denying all you want. We’ll be playing at your wedding one day.” Alex laughs, ignoring the burning faces of his friends as he grabs Willie’s hand, “Anyway, we better get going. Early flight in the morning. You guys have fun!”

The night drew to a close not long after Willie and Alex departed, the remaining group stumbling towards the dorms, each of them singing loudly and slightly off key.

“I love you guys.” Reggie grins as he leans against the wall outside his door, “Like, really love you. You’re my real family.”

“We love you too bro.” Luke pulls him into a hug and pats him on the back, “Now get to bed, you’re getting soppy.”

“Yeah, leave me to deal with him.” Bobby rolls his eyes, “Don’t even think about trying to cuddle me.” he warns.

Luke throws his arm around the girls shoulder as they head back to their own room, neither of them doing a good job at keeping the other walking in a straight line. They stumbled into the walls and doors, both of them shushing each other obnoxiously loud as they giggled. Finally back in their room they both collapse onto their backs on Luke’s bed, their laughter slowly fading away until the room is cloaked in silence.

“Reggie’s right.” Julie comments.

“About the chickens? I don’t know, I don’t think they can really-” Julie cuts him off with a laugh.

“No! About us, our group. We’re a family, and I love it.” she sighs.

Luke’s mouth forms a small ‘O’ shape before he nods in agreement, “Yeah, couldn’t ask for a better family.” he agrees, reaching down and taking her hand in his, the alcohol dampening the nerves he usually feels around her.

She squeezes his hand, laying her head against his shoulder where she soon fell asleep, leaving him alone to sober up with his thoughts. Would it be such a bad thing if he told her? He played it out in his head. Imagining if she did feel the same. He could tell her, she’d kiss him, they’d go on dates and meet each other's families. They’d fall stupidly in love and have the best time of their lives. He liked the sound of that. But he couldn’t stop the tiny pessimistic side of him from rearing its ugly head. Because she could not like him back. Or everything could go exactly how he wanted but something could happen. He could do something stupid like he was known for, resulting in Julie having a broken heart. He couldn’t bear that. Then they would fall out, and it would be awkward, because they share a room. They would have to see each other every day and he would be awkward and she would be bitter. They’d end up arguing a lot, and eventually hating each other. Never seeing each other again once college finished. Maybe she’d even move out of the room completely. He gulped at the thoughts.

No, definitely best not to say anything.

The next morning Luke woke with a sore head, the hand that had been holding Julies now empty. He sits up onto his elbows with a groan, squinting his eyes as he looks around the room.

“He lives!” Julie cheers and Luke whines at the volume of her voice, “Sorry,” She laughs, “Not feeling great?”

“Something like that.” He mumbles rubbing the balls of his hands into his eyes.

“Well lucky for you I’ve taken the liberty of ordering food worthy or curing a hangover, I’ve just gotta go collect it.” She throws her bag over her shoulder as she heads to the door.

“I’ll come with you.” Luke says, sitting up with a grimace.

“Please don’t,” Julie holds a hand out to him, “You look like you might throw up if you move any more. I’ll be ten minutes.” She disappears out the door without another word and Luke flops back down onto his bed.

The day passed without any sickness from Luke, his hangover slowly feeling less painful as the evening drew in. Still feeling a bit groggy he was sure it would be gone by the morning, so he got an early night, falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillows.

Except the next morning the grogginess didn’t disappear, if anything it had worsened. His head felt fuzzy and his throat was like sandpaper. He turned to look at Julie, his body aching at the small movement.

“Am I dying?” He asks croakily.

“You sure sound like it.” Julie replies, looking up from her book to look at him, “And look like it.” She quickly puts her book down and hurries over to him, the back of her hand meeting his forehead, “Luke, you’re burning up.”

“I feel like I’ve been hit by a train.” He groans, “A train on fire.”

Julie rolls her eyes, helping him to sit up and pushing up the cushion under his head, “It’s just the flu. I told you not to go out the other night without a jacket!” She slaps him on the arm earning a whimper from the boy, “Next time you’ll listen to me. I’m going to the store to stock up on food anyway, I’ll get some medicine and soup.”

“Soup.” Luke groans out.

“Yes, soup. And you will eat it.” She points at him in warning before grabbing her jacket off the hook, “And I’m going to wear this, so I don’t get ill like an idiot.”

“You’re so sweet to me.” He mumbles, pulling his blanket up around his neck, “Can I have reese’s?”

“Sick people don’t get peanut butter!” She calls as the door shuts behind her.

Luke stays cocooned in bed until Julie returns with supplies. Luke watches quietly as she unpacks everything, then she makes her way over to him with a bag of all sorts of medicines, Luke grimaces at it.

“Don’t pull that face.” She slaps at his hand, “If you would have listened to me you wouldn’t be in this situation. Now, I have day medicine and night medicine, to help you sleep.” She places the bottles on the side table, “Cough sweets, pain relief tablets, cold and flu tablets, tissues.” She pulls everything out as she speaks.

“Are you trying to overdose me?” Luke asks.

Julie rolls her eyes, opening the packet of cold and flu tablets, “No, I’m trying to make you better so you’re not dying for the whole holidays. That would be no fun for me.” She hands him two tablets and a bottle of water. “You can take these up to four times a day, the day medicine twice and the night medicine before bed.”

Luke pouts at her as he swallows the tablets, “But I don’t want any of that.”

“Tough, I’m making you soup.” She hops off his bed and grabs the can of soup, readying it in the microwave for him.

Luke eats the soup, no matter how much he doesn’t want to. It leaves a funny taste in his mouth and he eats one of the cough sweets just to get rid of it. Julie chooses a christmas movie for them to watch, making sure the volume is on low so it doesn’t hurt his head.

“Can you sit with me?” Luke asks from under his pile of blankets, unsure as to why he had asked and feeling a little embarrassed that he did.

Julie pauses in her stride for a moment before changing direction to his bed, she sits beside him on top of the covers, letting him rest his head against her arm, “If I get ill I’ll kill you.” She warns jokingly.

“I promise not to get you ill.” he replies, knowing full well he has no control over it at all.

Julie spent the next couple of days caring for the boy, giving him medicine, making him food and keeping him comfy in bed. She estimated that it should take around three days for him to start feeling normal again with all the medicine she was giving him. So on the third night she gave him what she hoped would be his last dose of night medicine and tucked the blankets under his chin.

“I’m not even tired.” He complains, the blanket muffling his voice as he pulled it half over his face.

“Well you will be when that kicks in, we have this argument every night.” Julie sighs with an eye roll as she screws the cap back on.

“But I want to stay up with you.” He complains again.

“You can, tomorrow night when you’re hopefully feeling better.” He moves to get up from his bed but he reaches out and grabs onto her wrist.

“Can you at least sit with me?” He pouts up at her.

She laughs at him, perching back on the edge of his bed, “You’re so needy when you’re ill, it’s kinda cute.”

Luke frowns up at her, wanting to be called anything but cute by the girl he liked. “I’m not cute.” He argues.

The medicine already having the desired effect at making him drowsy, but he tried to fight it in order to spend more time talking with Julie. He tugs on her arm until she's laying next to him, his fingers moving down to hers and wrapping them together, he's pleased when she doesn’t move away from him.

“I’m glad you stayed back.” He mumbles, watching as his fingers fiddled with hers, “It’s selfish but I like your company.”

Julie smiles lightly, “I like your company too Luke.”

Luke smiles, a little lopsided in his dozy state, “I really like your company.”

“Well I really like your company too,” Julie laughs, “It’s not a competition.”

Luke shakes his head, burying his face into his pillows, “You don’t get it.” He mumbles out, Julie frowning as she strains her ears to hear what he’s saying, “I really like your company.”

“Yes Luke, you just said that.” She chuckles, “You don’t know what you’re talking about and you’re not making any sense, time for sleep.”

“No!” Luke complains, grabbing her hand tighter as she tries to get up, “You’re not listening to me!” He whines.

“I am listening to me! You said you really like my company! Twice!” She laughs.

Luke lets out a dramatic sigh, letting his head drop down onto the pillows again, “Forget it. You don’t care, you’re just laughing at me.” he mutters with a pout.

Julie sighs, feeling a little bad but knowing he was only acting this way because of the medicine, the boy probably had no idea what he was even saying.

“Okay,” She sighs, “Go ahead, what do you want to say.”

Luke sighs, chewing on his lower lip as he peeks up at her, she nods for him to go on, “She’s amazing,” He whispers, “Too amazing for me. She deserves the world, I could never give her that, but I wish I could.She means so much to me and I love her.” He mumbles, face half buried in his pillows as he lets his eyes drift shut, Julie had to wonder who he was talking about now, “I’m in love with Julie.” he adds in his half asleep state before finally letting the dreamland take him.

Julie’s mouth gapes open, eyes wide slightly as she stares down at the boy gripping onto her hand. She shakes her head, pushing the hope deep down inside of her. He’s off his face on flu drugs, he has no idea what he’s talking about. Hell he didn’t even realise it was her sitting next to him, he didn’t mean what he said. But part of her wished he did. She gives his hand one last squeeze before untangling herself and climbing into her own bed, ready for a night of restless fidgeting as she played what Luke had said over and over again in her head.

By the time morning came Julie was certain she’d gotten no more than two hours of sleep. Luke was sitting up in bed, scrolling on his phone when she turned to face him.

“Hey, you’re up!” Luke grins, his smile dropping slightly at her disheveled appearance, “Oh no, you’re not sick are you?”

“No, no,” Julie shakes her head, “I just didn’t sleep very well.” She sits up with a yawn and a stretch, “You seem to be feeling better.”

Luke nods his head, “So much better. I feel human again. Thank you for taking care of me,” He bites his lower lip and looks down at his covers, “I’m sorry I get a little much when I‘m sick.”

Julie laughs softly, a little disappointed that he hasn’t mentioned the night before, clearly he didn’t remember anything at all, “It’s fine. I didn’t mind.”

“Well you gotta let me make it up to you.” He says, pushing his covers away so he could climb out of bed.

Julie quickly shakes her head, “No, really, there’s no need.”

“I want to. You’ve spent the last three days looking after me, it’s the least I can do.” He argues.

“Well, it’s been snowing outside. And you’re still probably not one hundred percent, you probably shouldn’t go anywhere.” Julie tells him, always the voice of reason.

She also didn’t like the idea of going somewhere with Luke right now, his words from the night before still swimming in her head. If they did anything that even resembled a date she might break and say something she regrets. Like how much she’s in love with him and how he’s all she can ever think about.

“I guess you’re right...Okay then, we’ll order pizza, on me, and we can watch a movie? Not really an amazing thank you but, it’s a start?” He offers.

Julie sighs, the look on his face one of hope which she couldn’t say no to. Besides, they were stuck in the same room, it wasn’t like she could avoid him. She agrees, and his grin is wide enough to force one out of her as well.

So that evening they sit on their beds, stuffing their faces with pizza and garlic bread as they watch awful christmas movies and laugh over how bad they are. The previous night pushed into the back of her mind for the first time that day until Luke spoke up, his serious tone enough to pull her eyes from the movie and over to him.

“Hey, Julie?” He asks, as she looks at him his eyes are focused down on his pizza, “So...I wasn’t going to bring this up, but it’s been bugging me all day. Did I, uh,” He chuckles nervously, “Did I...Say some things last night?”

Julie looks at him in shock, sure he had completely forgotten. Her silence answers his question and his face turns a deep red, “Oh, god.” He groans, “I’m so sorry. I never meant to say that stuff, the medicine just...I’m so sorry. Please don’t feel awkward, can we just forget about it?”

Julie offers him a small smile, her shoulders deflating a little at his words, “Of course. It’s completely forgotten.” She forces a smile onto her face, “No awkwardness.”

Luke frowns over at her, in the months he had known the girl he had gotten to know how she worked and he could tell the smile taking over her face wasn’t genuine, “What’s wrong?” He asks.

“Huh? Nothing! Nothing’s wrong! Why would something be wrong?” Julie asks, shoving a bite of pizza into her mouth.

Luke raises his eyebrows at her, “Because I know you too well, what’s wrong?”

Julie looks over at him, the pizza half way back to her mouth again, she lets out a sigh and drops it back into the box, wiping her hands on a napkin, “Can we just forget about it?”

“Absolutely not. C’mon, tell me, I don’t like seeing you sad.” Luke prods her to talk to him.

Julie sighs again, contemplating if she should just lie to him, but the look of a kicked puppy on his face was too much for her. She caved.

“I guess, a part of me just kind of hoped you meant those things.” She shrugs looking anywhere but the boy in front of her, “I mean I know you would never, but hearing you say that...I guess I just got my hopes up.”

When she’s met with silence she looks up, eyes meeting Luke’s which held a look of shock, “Now can we forget I said that? Y’know what, we should just forget everything about this night. Maybe we should just start again? Get back into bed and pretend it’s morning!” She laughs nervously as the boy continues to stare at her, “Luke,” She whines, “Please say something so I know you don’t hate me.”

Finally Luke smiles, shoving his pizza box to the side and launching off his bed. Julie barely has time to comprehend that he had moved when his lips landed on hers, forceful but sweet, the taste of pizza and garlic between them. She moves her hands to rest on his chest, one of his supporting himself on the bed, the other holding her face. The kiss is slow and much too short for Julie’s liking, she stares wide eyed at the boy when he pulls away.

“I did mean it. Every word of it and I’ll say it every day if I can. You’re amazing, and I love you more than anything. You’re the best person to come into my life and I never want to be without you. Julie, I’m crazy in love with you and it’s not going away.” He breaths out.

Julie’s mouth forms a grin and she jumps up, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him into a deep kiss as he wraps his arms around her waist. They stay locked together, lips moving in perfect sync until the stop for breath.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear that.” Julie comments.

“I think I can take a guess.” Luke grins back, pulling her against his chest and placing a short sweet kiss to her lips before hugging her tight, “Am I still drowsy from drugs or is this really happening?”

Julie laughs against his chest, “I don’t know, let me pinch you to see if you’re dreaming.” She pinches his side and he jumps back quickly.

“Ow!” He complains and Julie just laughs.

“Definitely not dreaming.” She concludes, tiptoeing up to kiss him again, “That is something I will never get bored of.”

“You can say that again.” Luke agrees, grabbing her around the waist and falling back onto his bed with her as she squeals.

Of course a tiny part of Luke was still worried about anything going wrong, him being a notorious fuck up meant he would try his best to never do anything to harm this relationship. But the bigger part of him was so incredibly happy he could hardly contain it. The smile on his lips he was sure would be present for days, weeks even. He got the girl, the amazing, talented, sweet and caring girl. And he had no plans on ever letting her go.

They spent Christmas wrapped up together in blankets, doing nothing but talking, kissing and enjoying each other's company. Luke had never felt so happy and content on Christmas before, the girl in his arms the best present he could have hoped for this year and any year to come. When it finally came time for Julie to go home for new years she convinced Luke to come with her. Not that he took much persuading, a few kisses and puppy dog eyes and he cracked like porcelain and agreed.

Luke was glad she had forced him to go home with her, because her home was exactly that. A home. It was warm and cosy and he felt instantly welcome. Her little brother loved having him there, calling him the big brother he never had and showing him everything he got for christmas. Luke ended up playing with his cars and robot figures for hours and loving every second. He’d never had a younger sibling before, he now realised how much he had missed out on and was happy he and Carlos could both have the siblings that they had always wanted in each other.

Her dad was more than happy to have him there. He couldn’t stop thanking him for making his little girl happy and Luke couldn’t stop replying telling him how amazing she was. He felt like he was at home, a real home where he belonged. Ray invited him back for every break, Christmas especially, and he quickly accepted. His arm tight around Julie’s shoulder, his lips pressing a kiss to her hairline.

“You’re amazing.” He whispers to her.

She looks up at him, smiling wide and leaning up to press a quick kiss to his lips, “You’re amazing. Welcome to the family.”

tags: @chrlsgillespie @makebank @crybabyddl @gillespe-txt @themadnesscycle @wokealex @shellyysauruss-rex @fangirlsonthin (strike through means it wouldn't let me tag you sorry!)

[mostthingskenobi]

i’d love to hear a little more about or read a snippet from parallel jedi!! thank you for sharing :)

Hello dear anon!! You’re very kind to show interest :) I’m not sure what I’ve written is any good. I don’t think I’ll ever finish it so I figured I’d share it with you as it is. I had intended to created these 2 plot lines that intersected, even though they took place during different Star Wars eras. It was a challenge I looked forward to... but I lost steam on the project. Perhaps someday I’ll write them as individual one-offs. Let me know what you think. Please don’t judge me to harshly LOL! I haven’t edited this at all, so pardon any typos.

PARALLEL JEDI

Original prompt: Could you do a story that parallels Luke in his prime post RotJ and Obi-Wan in his prime? Something where an enemy or group realizes these subdued, soft spoken yet confident men are actually quite dangerous?

——————–

Pravus – The Outer Rim (9 months after the Battle of Endor)

Luke Skywalker sat slumped against the stone bastion, one leg bent at the knee, the other extended strait in front. His wounds were extensive, requiring considerable concentration to suppress his pain and simultaneously control his labored breathing. His ribs ached and his lungs felt stripped. He was lightheaded from loss of blood, his nerves vibrating with exhaustion. There was little hope of making an escape in his present condition.

He had come alone to this isolated moon following a hunch, seeking out the last of Palpatine’s secret lairs. The Emperor had been dead nearly nine months but the war wasn’t over; Luke discovered evidence that the Dark Lord was caching weapons in remote corners of the outer rim. Skywalker methodically worked his way through the data, interpreting coordinates while cross referencing Sith and Jedi lore, letting the Force guide him from one location to the next. In four different systems he had discovered three bunkers and two private residences that the Emperor had kept for himself, each filled with treasures and horrors alike, each location more dangerous than the next. Palpatine was fond of sinister booby-traps and this current fortress built into the side of a mountain was no different.

Skywalker had breeched the abandoned castle’s walls only to face one ambush after another. The Emperor was clever and cruel, and though Luke ultimately succeeded, he paid dearly for his efforts as he fought through snares, climbed crumbling architecture, and battled assassin droids by the dozen. Hours passed as he made his way higher and higher into the mountainous fortress; each new level he ascended brought more difficult confrontations than the last. When he finally reached the top floor of this seemingly endless tower, he collapsed, his legs turning to jelly under him.

He sat for a long time, unable to move his burning muscles while blood pooled on the floor beneath him, oozing from innumerable cuts and other more severe injuries. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Luke knew his challenges were not finished but his body was screaming for rest. There were times when a Jedi had to power through physical roadblocks, but more importantly a Jedi needed to know his limitations. In this moment of great need Skywalker reached for the Force, let it wrap around him, let it permeate every cell in his body, staunching his blood loss, relieving his pain, soothing his exhaustion. For a few blessed moments everything became passive and silent.

Luke had not encountered a single living soul in the rest of the building but as he shut his tactile senses down and receded inward, he could feel another presence in the Force only a few meters away. Dragging his eyes open he peered into the shadows on the other side of the room.

“I know you’re there,” he said, slurring his words with exhaustion. “Show yourself.”

After a long pause boots scraped across the flagstones as a figure stepped into the light and took form against the darkness. A large man, too thin for his seven-foot frame, with bedraggled long hair and neglected, tattered clothes that had once been fine, stood in front of Skywalker.

“No one has ever made it this far.” The man’s quaking voice revealed his age.

Luke was not fooled by his apparent fragility; dark energy radiated off the old man. “Who are you?”

The old man shuffled closer but did not reply.

“Are you a prisoner?” Luke asked, knowing the answer.

The old man scowled. “Of course not, you impudent wretch. I am The Keeper, chosen directly by the Emperor to guard one of his most sacred artifacts.”

Luke tried to appear stronger than he felt. “You haven’t done such a great job if I’ve made it this far.”

The old man stepped closer to Skywalker, the light seeping in through upper windows casting a ghastly shadow over the wrinkled visage. “I assure you, boy, you will make it no further.” Luke saw the contraption too late as The Keeper raised a hand, leveling the weapon at Skywalker’s body, and fired.

A sharp pain ripped through Luke’s neck, his body instantly becoming paralyzed. The toxic dart worked with unfathomable speed. Skywalker fell back, his body contorting with pain before he slid down the wall and collapsed unconscious on the floor.

——————–

Inesco – Unallied Space (during the Clone Wars)

Cody was missing.

Waxer and Boil were the last troopers to see him. Two days ago the commander had gone off to inspect a rogue transmission that interfered with the squad’s com links. Cody climbed a hillock near the forward operating base; he disappeared over a ridgeline and didn’t come back.

Obi-Wan Kenobi could not deny that he was worried. Though Jedi were not supposed to form attachments, the idea of his trustworthy, loyal, and stalwart clone commander falling into enemy hands set Kenobi’s teeth on edge. Cody was made of tough stuff but the insurgent population had proven to be ruthless and cunning.

The Republic had sent Obi-Wan with a small clone contingent to Inesco, a desperate system nestled directly between Republic and Separatist lines. The depleted planet was constantly caught in the galactic conflict while both sides fought to possess it as a staging ground. Kenobi had no interest in tormenting the local populace any further and hoped to finish his mission quickly.

Fate was against him.

He and his platoon had instantly been caught up in a local fight between the Calvorian mercenaries that lived in the mountains and the Inescan tribes that lived in the plains. Kenobi was supposed to infiltrate and confiscate a Separatist weapons cache, but the local civil war meant that the Calvorians, the Inescans, and the Republic were all vying for the same treasure.

What was meant to be an easily executed smash-and-grab mission had turned into a week and a half of bloody conflict. In the beginning the Republic forces had easily confiscated the weapons but the Calvorian mercenaries had destroyed Kenobi’s transports. Meanwhile, the Republic attack cruiser waiting in orbit became embroiled in a standoff with Separatist’s ships and couldn’t spare any shuttles to rendezvous with their ground forces. That meant Obi-Wan, his men, and the weapons cache were stuck on Inesco until another Republic cruiser arrived. According to the latest brief, Anakin’s ship would enter the system sometime within the month—not very comforting estimates.

The situation on the ground had become dire. They were running short on food and water, but even more concerning were the frequent surprise attacks made by both the Calvorians and the Inescans, each trying to take their share of the Separatist weapons so that they could carry on killing each other. Obi-Wan’s men were starving, exhausted, and damn sick of being caught in the middle. When Cody disappeared, even Kenobi’s temper flared. He sent scouts in every direction to spy on the insurgents, desperate to discover his commander’s whereabouts, but no information came back. No one knew which tribe, if any, had captured Cody. The plain truth was no one was even sure if Cody was alive.

As the sun set on the third day of the Clone Commander’s disappearance, Obi-Wan felt utterly defeated though he refused to let it show in front of the other soldiers. He sat in a dark bunker with four other troopers; they were all supposed to be getting sleep while second squad kept watch, but all of the men were wound too tightly to rest. Kenobi was pouring over terrain maps trying to discover a likely place where insurgents might take prisoners. He hadn’t slept in days and his vision was blurring around the edges, but he didn’t care; he wouldn’t rest until Cody was safe.

The bunker door suddenly slammed open and Boil came in, shoving a tall, sturdy man ahead of him. Kenobi could see that the man was a Calvorian, the tribe’s distinctive tattoos visible on his hands and neck.

All of the clones in the room quickly stood and warily raised their weapons.

“Easy, everyone,” Obi-Wan said calmly as he also stood. “Weapons down. I’d like to hear what our guest has to say.”

The clone troopers lowered their weapons but they did not relax their guard.

“This one says he has a message for you, General,” Boil said, giving the insurgent another shove until he was right in front of the Jedi.

Kenobi crossed his arms over his chest. “What can I do for you?”

The Calvorian was strong, his shoulders broad and rolled back with good posture, but he looked as worn out as the Republic troops felt. “My general would like to put an end to this standoff between our tribes.”

“That is wise,” Kenobi said dryly. “You and the Inescans have more in common than you know. You would do better to work together rather than try to kill each other…”

“I speak of the conflict between our tribe and your tribe.”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan shook his head, disappointed. “Very well. What are your terms?”

“My general has something to offer you. He asks that you return with me and discuss a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Kenobi felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck. He didn’t believe this was a trap, but he suspected he wouldn’t like what the Calvorian mercenaries had to offer.

“And what of my men?”

“You may bring no more than two.”

Obi-Wan didn’t feel the need to bring anyone with him. If he got into trouble, it might be easier if he were on his own. But he quickly changed his mind and turned to Boil. “You and Waxer are coming with me.”

The clone immediately straitened his shoulders. “Yes, Sir!”

Perhaps the troopers would be able to snoop around for Cody while Obi-Wan met with this general.

He lightly ran his fingers over his lightsaber hilt as a quick touchstone, a way to keep the Force foremost in his mind while he was suffering from terrible exhaustion. The kyber crystal at its heart was alive, thrumming with his life Force; and his energy greatly depended right now on his fellow troopers. Whatever he was walking into, it wasn’t going to be easy.

He gestured politely toward the door. “By all means, please lead the way, my friend.”

[sole-cuore-amore-e-droga]

Bulgaria brings a mentally reassuring anthem to Rotterdam 2021

I’ve said so that VICTORIA herself sort of agreed to have done “Tears Getting Sober” if she was allowed to, but for one I have to thank that EBU said that the artists can’t have their 2020 songs back? You’ll see why when I get to the review after two boring paragraphs of text with technical info, for the country that is Bulgaria!

ARTIST & ENTRY INFO

Victoria Georgieva (or VICTORIA, but I can’t be arsed to continuously capitalize her name so I’ll just say Victoria from now on) was born a singer, for she started to sing at the age 11, went to a specific school of angel voices (no really that’s what it was called), and tried to go to the X Factor while a liiiiiittle too young until realizing that she needed to wait for a few years, and wait a few years she did, and went on to the X Factor again.

She didn’t win, but she still got to sign a contract and sing some stuff in Bulgarian before she decided to rebrand, started singing in English, and completely decided that ballads is her style. She cannot really do upbeat most of the time. So you can’t really have a bop from her in the future. (Well except that there’s a couple of songs in her discography that I personally classify as “bops” but they’re more like... idek sad bops?? but they can be danced to, but I get her, she doesn’t do anything that’s more loud and upbeat and clubby and summery kind of - in short, nothing you can go “YAAASSSS QUEEEEEN” over to.)

The entry she ended up singing, “Growing Up Is Getting Old”, is what I can describe to be about overcoming the emotional twists and turns inside of you as you grow older, because as it turns out, it ain’t what you thought it would be - but if you push just a little further, you realize that if you’re growing up, maybe the life isn’t so bad, afterall - you are able to get up. Somehow. It was written as part of Boris-Milanov-led songwriting camp held during summer, and a lot of people seemed to be a part of it because multiple different folk have songwriting credits on the potential Bulgarian entries this year.

REVIEW

Let’s get this out of the way immediately. I prefer “Growing Up Is Getting Old” to “Tears Getting Sober”. The former sounds a lot less irritatingly underwhelming and a lot more positively overwhelming you with warm emotions and sunglow. “Tears Getting Sober” was a song I could never really connect with - maaaaybe the last chorus is much better on there, but it doesn’t do much for me either, I guess.

Their 2021 forray however is a much different kind of thing - once again, going for lyrical non-cliches, Victoria tells a tale about her inner turmoils and continuing in life, in a way that’s personal to her and also kind of relatable to all of us. We all have these moments of fear and anxiety and nervous systems aching. If only there was someone who’d tell us that we’re worth saving... thanks a lot Victoria, you’re the MVP. Filling in the void that Netherlands from last year had brought us but not anymore - another personal song about getting old and having those kind of feelings inside - and doing a great job at taking the baton in the right way (even with featuring the word “grow” in both of the titles, neat coincidence).

Not only the lyrics feel like a hug, the song just emulates ray of sunshine and golden glitter coming down from the sky, Molly Sanden style. The violins in the G major key playing so precisely, building up momentum throughout the entire song, slowly but surely - starting with the ticking clock in the first verse that may have subtle violin in there; and the first chorus is just so simple piano, and then the second chorus has a tinge of electronic something, and the last chorus goes full in with the backing vocals boosting the song, after Victoria performs the quite magnificent bridge... now I don’t have synesthesia but I associate music keys with colors, and to me G major would always come across as something yellow or orange - “Growing Up Is Getting Old” is a perfect example of why’s that for me. And obviously, Victoria’s love for harmony-humming (even if there’s just one instance of it after she sings “star crossed soul”) complements the song to a T.

And it turned out to be a much better choice than last year’s. Maybe finally a female ballad I am getting behind.

Now I wanna know why the bookies don’t appreciate THIS entry as much as last year?

Granted, now it’s 2021 and the environment is so much different, and the songs have changed, and the dynamics have changed, and now there’s suddenly more competition at stake. And for Bulgaria it fares quite much more underwhelmingly - well, at this moment they’re like 6th, which isn’t bad, but there’s a lack of sung praises coming its way, not quite a feat that “Tears Getting Sober” actually achieved, being the bookies fave right before the cancellation of last year. In general the year has been pretty dry for the previous winner picks like Iceland, Lithuania and this, but I can’t say that the previous winner bets from 2020 are all that dead either? Though I gotta say that Bulgaria wasn’t gonna win 2020 anyway, so it’s a lose-lose in this case.

Also I just can’t at that music video being a little dramatic at the beginning, with the cancellation of Eurovision being presented as if it were a worldwide disaster during which we all shall lock ourselves into bunkers and wait until the better days, eventhough the panini is not war and war supplies kit is not just enough to survive it. But it seems like that the world is quite literally falling apart, as evidenced by Victoria going through all kinds of pathways away from her living room, meeting a  (presumably) mini version of her somewhere in between, and literally surrounded by the shaking environment by the last moments of the song

before we realize it was just reality recursing from the TV’s point of view that Victoria was watching all along, and then she leaves the living room again, but in her world, everything is normal and she could just go wherever she wants by car. Even I can’t come up with a storyline ending that’s somewhat intertwined and all plot-twisty and more confusing than that. But props to her team I guess

Approval factor: Let’s say I somewhat approve this message. Follow-up factor: For the sake of argument let me just say that Bulgaria is moving on a great path, eventhough the former entry leaves me cold, at least the current entry keeps me warm at all times, like a cup of cocoa and a good blanket. Please Bulgaria, never run out of sponsors. Qualification factor: I’ve seen one or two people throw around the “surprise NQ” tag for this song and I don’t get why??? There’s no way that the tense atmosphere of semifinal 2 would sure-fire-ly kill Bulgaria, even if they have a lot less chances to win this year than they had the last one. There can be some shock NQs indeed though, and if there are, I am paging... uhhhhh Finland? Idk why but you might see what I mean if I ever get around to reviewing “Dark Side”. Bulgaria? Never. It may not win the semi but it will cradle around the top 7 somehow.

INTERNAL NF CORNER

That’s right, Bulgaria managed to do both.

At the time when one other of Bulgaria’s songs got released, within the *Special* Eurovision September 1st-onwards range, people naturally succumbed to their primal instinct of asking whether that’s her Eurovision song... only for Vic to probably announce this early on that no, it’s just *one* of potential ESC entries she’s harbouring. And the remaining potential ones were all on her debut EP. Who actually got a more well-orchestrated schedule for everyone to follow, and yet, people were much more keen to cling on the first EP song out of the gate, “Imaginary Friend”. Now I get that the fans of that song were super upset at the revelation that IF is not going, but it is a technically strong song for the sake of being a technically strong song, and I don’t want to think that Victoria is only forced to choose the songs that can win for her, so she’s such a sweetheart for gravitating towards a song she could dearly care about. So props to her team saving the initial winner for last to be revealed, lol.

Though wasn’t her personal favourite a Billie-Eilish-lite-upbeat-kinda-track Phantom Pain?

Which was also my personal favourite?

Look, I know that favouring the only non-ballad in the whole lineup (well “Ugly Cry” is also not quite a ballad but its beat is kinda so-so, so I tend to ignore it) is kinda sus, also, y’all are sick to death to Billie Eilish comparisons, but I do believe that Billie would never be able to do an “Imaginary Friend” while Victoria could do a “Lovely”. This makes me remember the cover art of Billie’s debut album where she sits on her bed, dressed in white, and so is Victoria on this very MV, with strange shit going on behind her in the mirror. To the mirror, her reflection acts creepy, back again.

The other 2 I don’t feel like caring about enough, sure they got their cred, sure there’s one entry properly crediting Milanov (who seems to not have an actual entry this year that’s purely attributed to *him*, as opposed to 3 last year, 2 of which were performed by acts that returned this year????), sure there’s the funny thing about having a funeral song where out of this and Finland only Austria managed to send a quote unquote “funeral” song, but I think the funeral song would’ve sounded better if the pre-section of it on the “Phantom Pain” video was THE “funeral” song itself, and not whatever was that other funeral song.

In between there was a public sort of survey where people could submit feedback and positive words to Vic’s choices to help her decide - I didn’t get to vote but I feel fine with the winner eitherway, and that counts for something! And the end result was revealed at the very end of Victoria’s very own rooftop concert.

The colors on the circle thingy of this, they were meant to symbolize all Bulgarian entries up to Victoria’s 2nd one, in pictograms that kind of reminded me of Coldplay attributing every song on ‘Mylo Xyloto’ its own little symbol.

The concert was not only full of music and also adverts for the inaugural sponsor iCard (that also included some element of foreshadow in between the suspense, you’ll see why), but also the Bulgarian folk talking before each song, saying all the positive nice words they can for Vic; that she’s talented, and that they were so excited that Bulgaria was doing well in the odds last year prior to cancellation, bla bla bla... also some people were proud of voting for Bulgaria outside Bulgaia, and they made puns about the forthcoming songs on the concert that they were introducing, and so on, and there was also someone called Dara, whom I really want to be sent by Bulgaria one day to show off that they’re not afraid of doing trashy-esque bops that don’t necessarily win

Also they reminded me that Lucy from No Angels (aka the sole reason Bulgaria 12′d Germany in 2008) still exists.

Also Azis.

There was also an intermission where Eurovision 2021 acts could say all the nice words to Victoria on their own part. And several artists chose to... how shall I put it... use up their several seconds rather interestingly. Like how The Roop would say something real quick only to delve into more of their usual “let’s dance, let’s discoteque! *hand scissors* ;P” self-promo, and Senhit carelessly being allowed to say whatever she wants in Italian without subtitles <3 Sorry sis, they’re only given to people from another white-green-red flag-color country.

About the iCard foreshadow... so there’s their advert about Victoria waiting in the line to get something in the Soft Vocals Store, and people ahead of her giving her money the standard oldfashioned way, and the old lady at the counter is... slow, to say the least. After a good amount of time spent waffling around, Victoria finally pulls out the iCard application and pays for the imaginary items she wants, then narrates some stuff about said application, and a Eurovision entry of hers plays when the old lady is at home, spending time in front of TV enjoying the music. Before the concert, the song that played was “Tears Getting Sober”. The advert played once more before Victoria’s big entry decision and entry MV reveal, and in place of the 2020 entry, “Growing Up Is Getting Old” was the one that sounded out loud... Now you may think that there were attempts at some sort of spoilage here, but after that ad before the concert EP NF result, there was this other advert starring Victoria that played “Imaginary Friend” at the end, a last-ditch effort to trick viewers into going “see? just because that ad played the chosen song doesn’t mean it’s the chosen song!! this song could as well be a chosen song as well!!” yeah no shut up GUIGO IS the chosen song kthxbyebye.

ANY LAST WORDS?

Having said all that praise, I actually have “Growing Up Is Getting Old” fairly low on my ranking. It’s just because the year is so damn good and I have a lot more songs to care about more than this, but I appreciate the gesture that this singer is sending very much. Good luck on your road to conquer Europe, Victory-ia, I’m sure you get the best of the experience and all, because you would deserve it.

[crazyclownthanos]

White Clover

Page 2: The one they call “the Devil God.”

Words: 2708

“Nice to finally meet you. Ace”

His icy tone complimented his deep voice.

Unlike the tone Nozel uses to call upon others. This man is somehow beats that tone on a whole new level.

Without taking note the man got closer to the young boy.

Ace was short circuited, meaning overwhelming his brain with questions.

The man was crossing personal territory by bonking his forehead onto Ace’s forehead.

...

Snort came out

The man shrugged back seeing the sight

“Need a handkerchief?” Pulling one out of his pants pocket.

No response.

He didn’t show any signs of annoyance. Getting on one knee he brought the handkerchief to his nose for him to blow into, still his silence was there.

“For Odin’s sake did I really kill a child for saving his life.”

He whispered underneath his breath.

Then a light bulb went off in Ace’s head.

Letting out a loud “EEEEHHHH!?”

twisting and turning his head searching by any sort of exit that could of linked to him entering the premises.

“Uhhbokumashindomakigawasoborac.....”

Ace was slowly disintegrating into a pile of goo, while the strange man could only assume that he was the one acting presumption.

“Beg my apologies I seem to having something blocking my ears.” Cleaning his ears with one of his fingers again crouching onto Ace’s level

Finding the strength to get back to height level Ace was ready to rack up questions to this man.

“F-f-f-f-first of all?” Poor boy was shivering, hesitating to even lift a finger. This was like another slap in the face to him, they already wasted too much time. He should really tell this child who he was.

Shifting back to his level he placed a finger on his lips to hush him.

“Helreignn.”

“My name is Helreignn Lokidottir.”

Now starring at this guy in full proposition, he had the look of a butler. Black split hair, split ends, fair skin, pointy chin, thick neck, black long sleeve extending to the wrists, over the black long sleeve is a purple vest on the outside is the lilac colour covering the entire vest and a mid purple lines splitting up. White wrist length gloves, black pants hemmed to the ankles and shiny brown leather shoes. Statue-wise he was built slim masculine. Not to mention his piercing red eyes that can dismiss any god.

“I assure you I won’t hurt you. In a matter of fact I am here to simply conduct myself to you”

“Conduct?’ Ace spoke out of turn resulting in Helreignn placing his finger over his mouth to hush him again

“Speak again and I will stab you and take out your organs and make it into a banner.” His toned became more dark. He wasn’t playing around.

Helreignn moved his hand over Ace’s lips and placed the hand behind his back and continued.

“I’m positive you’re aware about the movement of devils. Over 20 years ago a war happened. The tree of Qilpohoth went *poof! Ever since then the underworld became silent.”

pause.

“I believe it had a name.”

“The spade war?

The moment of time were a boy with no mana cut down one of my own ancient demon dogs, *sigh* poor thing never had a funeral for it~.”

The sarcastic manner he was speaking in was somewhat similar to how Solid would talk if his pork chops weren’t cut the way he wanted to be cut.

But the word ‘my own ancient demon dogs?’ By the word own? Did he make that happen. No. It can’t be possible.

“After the underdogs victory a few more bizarre events took place and next thing I knew I was holding a red headed baby in my arms and that baby appeared to be you.” Pointing at Ace. Ace got the wrong idea.

“You’ve been stalking me all my life?!” Pointing to himself

“What did I say moments ago?!”

He was sure mad. The white silhouette coming out and the red pricing eyes started to shine brighter.

Clearing his throat. His calm and cool persona came back.

“Excuse me but correct ‘stalking’ to ‘residing’ within the void. As the devil god and current ruler of the underworld I must birth or pick a heir to the throne. And that pick so happened to be you Ace.”

D-Devil K-King?

It had felt like a mirror had shattered.

Throne?!

Heir?

Devil?!

“You heard me correctly. Did you not? No? Hahaha that would be quite sad if you didn’t. In years to come that arrow that shot out of you will be the key of everyone dying a horrible death.”

The pain that already was there grew even larger. Like a tumour. The swell was immeasurable. Couldn’t be fixed.

Another tear? Crying already? This time it wasn’t just plain tears. It was tears of blood. Ace would never want the people he loves the most die a gruesome death because of his magic. This sight made Helreignn drop his mouth. Opening his mouth he simply laughed. Laughed at Ace for crying.

Quitting the laughter to speak. “It’s only on the contrary. Powers like those are super challenging to come by. Not even the director of the magic knights or even the Wizard king or whatever could never compare. And yes I am comparing myself to that honorable fool.”

Getting down on his knees Ace held himself crying like a baby these tears are the tears of fear or what Helreignn calls them the tears of the devil.

An echo was made

Turning heads to the door was an adult red fox growling it’s teeth at Helreignn.

The red morph of glitter took shape of the fox once more. Turning the fox into a human. This boy had fare skin, short wavy blonde hair, ends are curled up, a beauty mark underneath his left eye. Orange eyes that screeched for vengeance. Wearing a black crew neck tight-fitting shirt elbow sleeve length, his elbows was showing having cutting edge, representing a Diamond, his back was also visible showing off a second diamond. Below him he was wearing a light olive green skirt and a pair of brown woldwalker boots.

“Shut up you mole rat.”

“Mole rat? How original.....shouldn’t you’re neck have a chain around it?” Helreignn’s words were turning sharp. Was he mad because of the sudden intruder?

“Don’t you dare go thinking your some type of good guy. It’s a nightmare to watch. Please quit it”

“Oh how insidious you are. Also I’m no good guy please refer to me as the bad guy” the tension was rising and at this rate the whole clover castle residents may wake up because of the current chaos.

The human fox walked over to them and only growled while Helriegnn only showed a satisfying smile. Ace sat on the ground hugging his legs, he had his eyes wide open not even blinking, the soaked blood tears continued to fall

“Is making a child cry you’re goal? You really had no build up but just to tell the 11 year old kid that he’s the next devil king and he’s a going to kill everyone he loves?! You’re sick in the head” Now standing in front of Ace defending him from the monster

He twitched for a moment

“I don’t need any build up. All I need from him is for him to corporate with me.” Motioning the last words

“Right now the only thing you’ll be cooperating is my fist.” The human fox rebottled.

A bush of red arrows lined up behind the human fox not making a sound. The pierce was soon going to make its shot. Ace shifted the placement of his head, just a smidge capturing the sight of the red arrows and next Helreignns hand, he was about to shut his hand and if he did.....?

Will the talk of gruesome power’s first victim will be that fox? Such an overwhelming feeling. That feeling went away and welcomed a feeling of determination.

“Helreignn. Do. Not. Close. Your. Hand.” Helriegnn wrinkled his eyebrows hearing those words coming out of a child who was crying a second ago. Slowly rising up the blood tear drops had stopped, you could only see the blood marks. The human fox had also turned around to see this kid and made a face of shock.

Jumping a bit when the human fox finally noticing the red arrows behind him. Helreignn furrowed his eyebrows even lower before entering himself in hysteric laughter.

Ace jolted back his shoulders, disturbed to see. This guy was barmy.

“Oh dear Odin how on the aesir’s penalty did this occur?” The words cracking through his laugh.

“YOU ASSHOLE QUIT TOYING” The human fox kid began to growl again and transformed himself back into an adult red fox and tackled him with mountains of force onto the tiled floor.

Helriegnn let it happened as he carried on laughing. Ace spent no time racing up to them. In an attempt from all hell war breaking out he proceeded to wrap his hands around the red fox stomach to restrain him without hurting him.

The salvia dripping down appearing from the red foxes mouth to Helreignn’s cheeks. Helreignn never lost strain of the laughter that absorbed him.

“Quit the commotion! We can find a solution! I may not know why you feel this way but please can we talk it out?” Ace pleaded but no one stopped.

This went on for many more minutes. Who blood is going to be spilt? That’s what made was thinking if one finger slipped he would be caught in a situation of murder so he couldn’t sit around and let it happen.

Finally taking the fox by full swing Ace landed on his back with the red fox still having a good grip on him. Ace made noises complaining upon the back pain that he couldn’t control. The red fox got off hearing those painful noises and stopped growling, Helreignn stood again and broke off the laughing.

Shit......

And all he wanted was a glass of water.

Ace’s pupils rested on Helreignn and the red fox. Fluttering his eyes open and close until he fully shut them for good.

Cutting to the Silva castle, more precisely Jossyln’s room. It views a messy bed that appears someone had already slept there, a large leather chest opened and a window opened wide while the bed curtains danced in the moon light.

Quavering his eyes lids the first thing that came in Ace’s sight was his mother. Nebra Silva head of branch Ideale. Wearing her mother’s coat, the one she wore when she was pregnant with Noelle. Her hair swaying down and underneath she was wearing her Silva uniform. Consisting of a iced blue blouse with the house Silva pink pinned tied at the front and iced leggings to her calf length Silva boots.

She was worried sick.

“ACE!” She first said moving forward, plus the chair tagging along. To Ace’s aid and gave him plenty of kisses on the head while holding his head.

“Mommy I’m fine.” A little bit of laughter filled his tone enjoying this moment after the rough mishap that recently took place.

She stopped the kissing and pulled back just to take a good stare at him.

Grabbing him by the ears she started to pinch and pull them

“What we’re you thinking taking a night stroll to the grimoire tower and take a nap?! YOU GOT A CURFEW YOUNG MAN.”

This woman was sure scary. After all it’s the second daughter. Compared to 20 years ago or so this woman had sure change. She changed her look, changed her attitude (well a little bit), changed her opinion on the people below her, her best friend is a commoner, she became more powerful after stopped being insecure about her magic, she was the first royal to marry a peasant.

She stopped with all the ear pinching. She started to hug him once more and began to hit her head on his and groaned

“I’m so happy my baby is safe.”

“Ow. I’m happy too.” Ace replied back. Nebra rested her forehead onto his yet there was still questions that needed to be answered.

“Hey....was anyone with me when I happened to pass out?” He whispered.

Nebra didn’t want to answer. Ended up doing so though.

“Yes matter of fact there was a red fox that laid right beside you...the knights didn’t want to harm it so instead they brought the fox into the infirmary.” Ace took his mother’s hand and shifted his body to only uphold the fox laying on a different white sheet bed

Ace smiled, a smile of relief, but on the other hand what happened to Helreignn? Where did he ran off too? Or did he returned back to the ‘void’ Ace never got clear answers off him.

“Actually. I want to ask about him. Can I adopt him as a pet! Since that Josslyn is not around that much anymore.”Switching back to his mother with stars on his eyes. Nebra scrunched her nose. A pet? Well matter of fact he had a point but will Zora approve? Of course he would! He would hate to see his son all lonely and sad, that’s the last thing he wanted.

“Why not? I’d never had a pet when I was a little girl.” Scratching her nails onto the pink cardigan.

The stars in Ace’s eyes had transferred to a feeling of happiness to his brain.

Seeing his pretty smile Nebra had to ask

“What are you going to name it?”

“At the moment I have no clue, but I got a few names in mind” He glees. The smallest things always made him smile.

Ace took the silence the search the room for his sister of father but sadly not a soul in sight.

“Say momma where’s Josslyn and dad?”

Nebra bit her lip. “You’re father got called to a mission with Magna and Luck at last hour and Josslyn is in the ball room heretofore for the royal event. For attendance I have been called upon to attend. As much as it pains me to leave you here I’m positive I can trust you.” Throughout the sentence Nebra placed the pink cardigan on Ace’s lap and to stroke his hand one last time before walking to the doorway. Nebra let out a blow kiss before exiting, Ace of course had to reply with a blow kiss of his own.

Ace positioned his head back to his pillow, the pain in his back had eased. Mimosa most likely healed his back when he was unconscious. “Must thank her with a bouquet of sunflowers.” Ace thought and noded

“For the fox....” he got flashbacks of what happened in the grimoire tower. It had felt like an awful nightmare.

“Names....yeah....think....about....names.”

“Zara? No. That’s disrespectful to his grandfather.”

“Peter? No that’s too plain.”

“Chandler? Cute but no.”

“Marcel. Dose not look like a marcel to me.”

The dialogue in Ace’s head was starting to corrupt to him. Next he would see him crippled. Somehow naming a fox who’s secretly a human....sounded wrong a level.

On the other side Nebra was walking towards the ball room putting on her jacket before Nebra could approach the Silva double doors.

Holding onto the door handle Nebra had got a brief flashback of when seeing her son on the cold tiled floor, all with blood stains on his cheeks and neck.

“Aim 2 fellas looks like we got a woman on her hands and not any woman. Nebra Silva. Once she opens those doors our arrows will slice those royals.” One hooded man said to the next.

“Mm I won’t miss. I am the best archer in my village after all...” the next man said pulling back the arrow when the chandler light blew in like an autumn leaf.

“They believe just because they improved they are somehow still the center of the show? Wrong. There still the assholes of the ball.” Bitting his tongue as he stopped.

======================================================================================================================================================

Ace Silva

Age: 11

Height: 146cm

Birthday: February 26th

Sign: Pisces

Blood Type: AB

Likes: Butterflies, Sunflowers, soft sunsets\sunrises

======================================================================================================================================================

[ragnarachael]

Hi! Are you still taking requests for Peter? Your Parker!Reader verse is ssooooo Good!! Can I request one where before Morgan is born, Tony sees Reader taking care of Peter who's Idk sick or something? And he finds it really cute and fluffy cause you're cuddling cause Peter is a cuddle bear and then Tony's like lEt's hAvE kIdS. You don't have to tbh 💙💙

CHIQUITITA, TELL ME WHAT’S WRONG

Pairing: Peter Parker x Sister!Reader, Tony Stark x Parker!Reader

Word Count: 1,508

Summary: Peter's sick and barely singing along to Mamma Mia. You take it upon yourself as Peter's sister to try and make him feel better. Tony helps the best he can before he’s off to a meeting. Later in the day, he accidentally brings up a topic you've yet to discuss in your relationship.

Author’s Ramblings: i went a little wild with this so... whoops. i really should put this series in order, but i’m far too lazy to even think about that at the moment. after this i’m posting the last 3 wip guessing game asks and then going back to work on THE fic! (also i’m trying out this new formatting for when i write whole oneshots instead of drabbles, don’t mind me)

Peter was sick. Peter Benjamin Parker, who proclaimed that he never got sick—which was frankly a lie, due to your family’s history of shitty immune systems—was sick and whining as he lounged around on the couch of the Avenger’s Compound.

He was leaning on Thor’s shoulder while he kept two separate tissues up both sides of his nose, Mamma Mia blaring on the flat screen in front of them. Thor seemed to be enjoying himself, his head moving along with the rhythm of the song that had been playing. You observed them both as you sipped on your coffee. Peter was quietly mumbling the lyrics to the song that was currently playing, sounding like he was in some weird state of delirium.

That’s what worried you. When you watch Mamma Mia with your brother, he’s electric. Usually, he’s up on his feet, doing most of the choreography, singing the male vocals almost perfectly; he’s never not sitting and barely bopping to the music.

“Hey Pete,” you said gently from where you stood near the kitchen island, moving a bit to let Tony get by you to grab a mug, “you okay?”

All Peter did in response was hold a thumbs up over the edge of the couch.

You sighed, placing your coffee mug down on the countertop before slipping past Tony and dodging Steve as you headed to where Peter and Thor were sitting.

There was no hesitation in your laughter when you saw how Peter solved his nose dripping problem. It’s exactly what you do and you completely get what May meant when she said the two of you were almost the same person.

“Peter,” you started, squatting down to meet his eyes, “did you take some medicine?”

“Yeah,” he huffed out, feeling around to his left to grab his bottle of water he had with him. “I took some.”

“How long ago?” You asked, reaching a hand up to press it against his forehead. You clicked your tongue. He had a fever for sure and with his luck, it’s probably rising.

Peter shrugged as he kept watching the TV screen, resting his chin on the top of his bottle.

You glanced over at Thor with a questioning look. Thor returned it just as the music to the scene that was playing stopped.

“What?”

“Were you awake with him when he took the medicine, Thor?”

“No. Loki and I returned from Asgard just over an hour ago.”

You nodded and gave him a smile, turning your gaze back to your baby brother. Emphasis on the baby.

“How’s about I take you to your room and I’ll make some soup for you? That sound good, bubba?”

Peter didn’t even have to say yes or no because you were gently pulling him up from the couch with little struggle, slinging his arm around your shoulders so you could guide him back to his room. 

He was groaning quietly the whole way, mumbling stuff about Mamma Mia and Thor being comfortable. Just before you could get into the hallway with Peter, you nudged your head into the hall in Tony’s direction to get his help.

You continued trying to hold all of Peter’s weight yourself before Tony was coming to your rescue, throwing the other arm over his shoulders.

“Don’t worry champ, we’ve got ya,” he said reassuringly, a hand splayed in between his shoulders.

Eventually, you got Peter in bed and instructed Tony to get all of his things he brought out to the couch while you got on making the soup you mentioned earlier.

Part of you wished May was back in town so you didn’t have to care for Peter like this, since you couldn’t always handle how whiny your brother gets when he’s sick, but another part of you didn’t care that much. You weirdly enjoyed doing this as of late, and you couldn’t place it.

Once the soup was done, you got a bowl and spoon together for Peter and carefully navigated your way back to Peter’s room, telling whoever you passed that there’s soup, if they wanted any.

Tony was lounging in Peter’s bed, staring at one of the walls that seemed to have Star Wars projecting on it.

Your heart skipped a beat when you saw how soft Tony looked with Peter in this moment. Even though Tony was still dressed up for a meeting he had within the next hour, he looked so cozy.

“Hey,” you said, kicking the door open wider with your foot, “I got the soup. You’re free to go.”

Tony’s eyes were still on the projection of the movie as he replied with a grunt.

You couldn’t hide your chuckle as you placed the bowl of soup down and gently tug his rolled up sleeve. “Mr. Stark, you’re needed elsewhere.”

Tony immediately looked at you thanks to that title and gave you a pout.

“It’s the best part!”

“It’s literally the opening credits. You’ve got a meeting,” you replied sternly, trying not to let the way Peter looked when you started to gently peel him from Tony’s chest pull on your heart strings.

“Fine, fine! I won’t have Pepper call it off,” Tony relented as you kept trying to get him to leave as he dramatically resisted to get Peter to laugh. You could hear your brother laughing the same time as you when you finally got Tony to the doorway.

“Behave, Tony.”

“What’s in it for me if I do?” He asked, raising a brow as he lowered his vocal register. You knew what he was doing, and you weren’t going to let it work.

“Go, Tony.” You pressed your lips to his and pulled away before he could grab you and pull you closer. “Or I’m going to break some of your tech again.”

“Can you take this away from me?” Peter asked loudly, with a bit of energy. You turned to look at him, raising a brow.

“You’re supposed to be sick, y’know.”

“I am,” Peter heaved, starting to reach for the soup you left on the nightstand, “doesn’t mean I can’t talk. Now can I please have someone watch Star Wars with me?”

You sighed and rubbed a hand over your face, giving Tony one last look for him to get lost before turning back around and quickly passing Peter the bowl of soup he’s still reaching for. 

Tony stayed in the doorway for a moment, watching you walk away before letting a dramatic sigh out, starting to slink down the hall back to the main living space.

Peter actually ate all of the soup, to your surprise. Although he did sip at the broth during the first Star Wars movie before actually eating the noodles and extra things you put in that you knew he’d eat. But he still ate it, and that’s all that mattered.

When Tony came back to check on the two of you after his meeting, he caught the both of you dozed off as the third movie started to play. Peter’s head was resting on your shoulder, his face smushed into your collarbone while your head was resting against the pillows. Your arms were wrapped around him protectively while it looked like Peter was trying to make his body morph into yours.

He had his legs tangled with yours, almost like you were playing twister. It was then Tony remembered that Peter liked sleeping in weird positions like that.

The kid was weird, but he loved him anyway.

Tony couldn’t place why his mind was going haywire over the fact of you cuddling with your brother, it might just be because it was so cute. Both of you were adorable in your own rights, and it was tugging some thought from the crevices of his mind.

“Tony?” You questioned with your sleep filled tone, sitting up slightly, only stopping when Peter shifted his face on your shoulder.

Tony didn’t hold back the smile he had for you and carefully walked farther into the room, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Hey, dear.”

“How’d the meeting go?”

“It went,” Tony replied, not at all thinking before speaking, “you’re great with kids.”

You tilted your head in confusion, pulling one of your arms from Peter to rub at your eye. “Kids?”

Tony shook his head instantly, not wanting to get on that topic right now. With Peter in the room? It’s a dangerous shot to take.

“Forget I said anything, you’re dreaming, this is a dream,” Tony recovered quickly, which caused you to let out a quiet laugh.

“We’re talking about that later, Stark.”

“What? Talking about kids? What’re kids?”

“Babe—”

Tony cut you off again, continuing to pretend you weren’t asking questions about what he said, gently moving to sit on the emptiest edge of the bed possible as you tried to smother your laughter.

Finally, you decided to play along, just so he could join you and Peter in bed for a nap. However, you’re definitely pressing on the whole “kids” topic later.

[symphonyofthewrite]

If These Walls Could Talk (Ch6)

Fandom: Castlevania Netflix

Summary: Vampires do not have reflections, and castles do not have hearts. But Dracula is no ordinary vampire, and Castlevania is no ordinary castle. If castles can fight, maybe they can think too.

The series, and Adrian’s childhood, told from the perspective of the castle.

Notes:

Please note!! This chapter is meant to have aesthetic indententaion in some places, and it definitly loses something without it. So if you want to read it as-intended, please look it at on Archiveofourown at I_prefer_the_term_antihero on your computer or tablet!!

FYI for anyone who’s been following the story here ( @symphonyofthewrite ) this is currently the most recent chapter!!

A HUGE thank you if you have, by the way!!!! 😘

If you can comment and/or reblog as well that would make my week!!!

Chapter Summary: 

“Do you see the Castle?” “Take a look.” “Good. Keep Focused on it. I have to be able to see it to put my intent on it.” “Your intent?” “That’s all magic is, Alucard. Changing things in accordance with my intent. “And my intent is to drag that grotesque thing here.”

Chapter 6: "Burn"  

Castlevania doesn’t like being controlled.

Does not answer to anyone but Dracula. However reluctant it may be to obey certain orders, it will always do what its master wishes. It isn’t sure it wants this war, to be an instrument of this war, but it will be damned if it doesn’t fight for him.

Its most base instinct and desire has always been to protect its master. That’s what it was at the beginning; just a shield. Not a home, or a haven, or a cozy place to raise one’s kids. It didn’t always have wants and musings of its own. Once it was just walls. Walls there to keep out the elements—both the cold, and the hot—not to mention the mobs. Once it was just walls; before someone started talking to them. Even if it can’t be a sword in this war, it will always be its master’s shield.

So when it feels intent creep in with jagged, electric claws from all sides, pulling, dragging it somewhere unknown where its master didn’t tell it to go, wrapping around its motor functions with blue-hot fingers—too much like the hand around the Rooms throat—a command that doesn’t belong to its master, it must not, will not obey. Dracula said to stay put, and whether here is a good place to be; whether he was coerced into placing Castlevania there for the sake of a little silence; and if Dracula is in his right mind, are moot points, because it was Dracula who said it.

There has been too much pain, too much betrayal, too many silver words, too many other voices trying to sway Dracula, and too many times the Castle wanted to beg its master to listen, listen closer, unable to do a thing to stop the collapse they set in motion.

Today, today has been too much. Carmilla’s parasitic rhythm fulfilled. Even now, battering rams against the door—but this time it is the vampires, not the humans, who want to tear its king from its throne, the thumping of heavy hearts against the door, and there is nothing Castlevania can do but sit there and hope its door is strong enough.

Her soldiers, a swarm of bees after their queen, and the buzzing is far too loud in its halls, louder than its ever been. The Castle is overwhelmed, so when this other force grasps Castlevania itself, as if molesting it, it is too much to bear. Castlevania isn’t just obeying orders anymore, it is angry.

Blood in the halls and the sound of metal against metal. The buzzing turning to stinging. The war has arrived in the war room.

Isaac runs to Dracula to tell him what the Castle—(and perhaps Isaac himself)— knew all along; that they had been betrayed.

Dracula has so little strength to fight so Castlevania must do what castles are made for: protect him, fight his battles for him, be his sword and shield and armor all at the same time. His reflection, which can better fight for him.

It may not quite believe in what its fighting for, but Castlevania has a will, and has been sick of all this for far too long. Too many motives fighting for control, too many voices winning out over its master. So desperately it wanted to fight, to talk, to beg its master not to listen, but it couldn’t. With everything else that happened it had to sit and watch and beg that someone else would fight.

Castlevania doesn’t like feeling useless, only able to listen.

It’s been feeling this for far too long.

Castles are built to protect their masters. Built to keep the arrows, the fire, the canons, and the worst of words from finding their mark. But Castlevania moves, and the arrows, the canons, the fire, and the words are all already inside. And no one dares try to move the Castle itself.

But this, this time the threat is against Castlevania. Not Dracula—though ultimately it knows, its master is surely their bloodthirsty goal. This is something it can fight. It has never been able to physically fight anyone before; rather than just with walls, with the thing inside it that moves, that obeys. This, this last force opposing its master’s will, is the only battle Castlevania has ever been able to fight in this war, and it will be damned if it doesn’t fight.

“Nobody takes my castle from me.”

The words, in Castlevania’s ears; the battle speech of the war lord, the soothing croon of the father, the encouragement of the teacher. Though he may not yet realize quite how literal the words ring.

The intent slithers down from the walls into the engine room, jumping from beam to beam; a cat with needle-sharp claws. Those claws turn to tentacles running along its gears, caressing it with prickling, stinging, venomous resolve, reaching with greedy talons for the die at the center of its being—the one that serves as its heart and legs at the same time.

When the Castle doesn’t listen, the tendrils don’t give up, rather they grow stronger, longer, intention spreading like infection, the lightning that once brought it to life curling; overgrown ivy on the roofs, and parapets, and halls…everywhere…enough to make it begin to lose its sense of direction.

No. It is a castle after all. It shouldn’t be too hard for it to be an anchor. It digs its feet into the mud.

But the intent does the same, claps down stronger than ever, enough that even before the blue grows around the pillars in the war room—tickling, itching, biting—its master notices—

“Magic.”

Castlevania doesn’t understand—it’s an anchor, stuck in place, a water wheel pedaling backward, gone off kilter, digging itself into the mud. How can this—this thing hold it’s own against Dracula’s Castle?

The two are locked in combat, locked like doors—(all the while many locks on many doors shuddering inside Castlevania, shuddering at the idea that someone could take control with a mere thought)—unable to see the face, the form of their opponent behind each other, just knowing there is only this; picking away at the keyhole until one of them clicks.

Castlevania will never, never give up. It has never been able to fight before, and after all this pain—after all this losing—losing Lisa and Alucard, after the blood of the boy landed on its floor, after the war and the parasites started infesting its halls, and the bitter treachery ended in this brawl—it is going to fight till everything in it burns.

And it does. It fights till, at its core, where its most important parts are—the gears that Vlad once sang to life with a lightning song—it begins to catch fire.

Lightning even erupts from the die itself—the thing the intent is reaching for.

It will not obey.

But…

But—

(But Castlevania’s feet

are

slipping.)

It’s seen magic, it’s protected Dracula from countless intents; human, vampire, and demon alike…but never a will quite like this.

And.

And…

And—

For just a moment....

its strength fails.

And Castlevania flickers.

NO!

It takes hold again, quickly as it lost it. Comes back, just a few meters from where it last was, digging its blistering, bloody heels back into the dirt.

No. It will not lose this battle. They have lost, are losing so much, it will not lose anything else. Not today. After having to sit by and watch all this loss, it will not, it cannot lose.

Castlevania is Dracula’s Castle. Dracula and his Castle don’t lose.

But

——

Castlevania is slipping.

It flickers once,

No!

twice,

NO!

a third,

No no no no NO!

Turning upside down, appears, disappears, the sound of this rending the air like a thunderous heartbeat—Don’t, Don’t, DON’T—but finds its ground, and if it had breath it would be heaving heavy on its chest.

Ground…Though the “ground” is a river, and waves rise up all around like the tongues hungry beasts themselves, rushing, crashing, cackling beasts into the war room where the war is being waged, and the water is holy, and the soldiers are not.

Though it may be in one place again, the intent is not finished yet, and Castlevania revolves in place as it strains against it—(knocking out a good portion of the city)—like playing tug of war with its own heart at the center of the rope.

And the moment it stops still the intent curls around its towers again, whispering sweet words about giving up.

Castlevania, breaking and burning, replies Never.

Blue bleeding like electric royalty to the windows Alucard once opened, the windows Dracula forced shut, shattering them; the roofs they once sat on, howling at the stars and naming the moon, lunging for the die that is Castlevania’s heart, and though they may think it doesn’t, this heart beats.

It’s limbs and lungs are turning to charcoal, but that fight still blazes in its eyes.

But Castlevania is not young…and it has to take a second to breathe.

And in that second, it loses everything.

This heart beats. And now that heart starts spinning out of control. It rages and buzzes in every direction—not like bees and bugs crawling on it, this is a far deeper buzzing within its chest, something more emotional…something like horror. And the gears turn in the fire, and it hurts, it hurts like hell to have someone else’swill running through the deepest parts of you, to fight a thing that’s crawled into your own heart, and stomped on your wishes. It hurts like hell to burn—this fire as hot as it can be; blue, so hot its cold—to burn and wonder if your body is your own stake, until the deepest parts of you are melting.

With a last cry the window behind the die shatters, sending the lightning into the air.

All is still, and it is exactly the intent wanted it to go.

It opens the door, pukes up the holy water, and the not-so holy soldiers, the moon is reflected on the surge, and it is red enough to make the water look like blood.

Castlevania wonders feebly where they are. A forest before it, mountains behind it. But something is beneath it too now…like a dungeon, but a dungeon full of books…a library…a library full of skulls…

The Belmonts. The ones with their whips and scourges. This is where they lived once. And it realizes if it can be here, that this is probably where they died, once. They don’t live here anymore. That the house burned…perhaps similarly to how the Castle is burning now.

Beneath Castlevania now is the hold within which resides all the knowledge to defeat its master and everything like him…and Castlevania, still burning, knows it will never move again, that it has joined to its worst enemy forever in sickening matrimony. And Castlevania knows now that the worst is true, after everything the intent must have belonged to a Belmont—perhaps the last of them— and they are coming now to do what they do best: hunt vampires.

Castlevania knows that, the one battle it could fight, the one battle that could turn the tide, it lost. Castlevania knows that it failed.

Castlevania, sitting on the floor, bruised, burning, coughing up blood, unable to move again, knows—

They are going to get in, whoever, whatever they are. Surely they—with all their whips and scourges and their bloodlust—are going to walk through that door, and add to the grand pile of losses it and its master have acquired lately, perhaps placing at the top the greatest loss yet.

That door. The front door the battering rams forced open today. The front door the mobs through pitchforks at long ago. The front door the stakes crowded around like an audience to a silent, one-man show. The door Lisa banged on with the pommel of her knife.

The Castle closes its eyes. Tries not to look as whoever they are step up to its door, as if burying its face in its hands, both covered in blood, burned and broken.

Just end it quickly.

The front door does open. They don’t even knock. And as it does, something…something which has been holding tight, digging its nails in for far too long, releases its grip.

And the Room—

—the Room which was, once upon a time, brought to life by a vampire king who thought he couldn’t love, and a woman who knew he could, and a couple of paintbrushes; painting walls and sewing toys; the Room, which once housed all the light and life and laughter this place ever contained within it; the Room that held a boy who cried, and carried the stars in his eyes, and the kindest of words in his fists; the Room which once sighed, and smiled; the Room which once waited for its master to return, and now has been waiting for much longer, with a claw wrapped around its throat, denying it air—

—the Room, so long spent waiting, the Room, so long spent gasping, so long croaking, so long clutching at the claw around its throat; the cold threatening to burn it away, the emptiness threatening to swallow it whole, the death animating all its worst thoughts; the Room, always hoping its life would return, but always one step from losing hope; the Room which has been finding everything too funny, if only to save it from how everything was so sad—

Breathes.

And within that breath, so soft, are spoken two simple words:

My boy.

[barnesandco]

Little Hands (2)

Bucky is woken one morning by a small girl hammering on his door and crying her eyes out. He takes her to Child Protective Services only to be called back and informed that he is in fact, the father, and the mother a murder victim from the night before. What happens when he now finds himself a father, and the daughter in question becomes inexplicably, irrevocably attached to his neighbor who lives across the hall?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of murder, war injuries.

A/N: Thank you for the tremendous response on this series! I’m so excited that so many people are enjoying it. Tags are open, let me know if you want to be added. I’d love to hear what you think!

“I'm glad you came, Buck. Everyone's been trying to get to know you better, and hopefully this will help. You need to get out of your apartment more.” Steve murmurs across the table to Bucky, leaving the boisterous collective conversation momentarily. Bucky doesn't know how he got roped into team lunch at the Barton farm, but here he is. Eating apple pie at the table that is meant to fit half the people it's currently accommodating, as some Christmas musical rerun plays in the background. If it weren't for Nate dancing in front of the TV and singing at the top of his little lungs, someone would have asked to turn it down or off already - it's not even Thanksgiving yet.

Grateful that Steve has stopped the mother-henning for now, Bucky turns back to the pie, and then to the other Avengers. Some of them, at least. Clint looks immeasurably happy as Nat discusses target practice with his daughter, Lila. On his other side, Laura and Sam are engaged in a fierce debate on the best sides for Thanksgiving meals. The Avengers with families of their own - Scott and Tony - are notably absent, spending free time with their children, making it seem as though Clint has taken in a collection of strays. 

He looks past the table and out the window, where the remaining few leaves are falling down in an early winter breeze. It's grey, but then, everything feels grey compared to Wakanda. Ironic coming from a man raised in the smog and fog of Brooklyn, he knows, but his life is just one color after the other. Phases passing like the seasons.

After Brooklyn, it was the trenches of the war, where Bucky knew nothing but brown for months on end. Then the sterile silver of Zola's equipment, followed by the consuming black of his cell. When he finally got out, the most dominant color was white. Agent Carter's perfect teeth, his cold knuckles around a rifle, the snow-clad mountains he fell between during that awful train-ride. Red followed - the bloody stump where his left arm used to be, the gunshot wounds that blossomed wherever he went, the star on his shoulder. His stupid fucking Henley, even the robe in green, green Wakanda. He's sick of red, longs for blue, now. 

That's the crux of his problem, at present. Those blue eyes from yesterday, glittering like the moon, distant, but ever present. And oh, so familiar. Unrecognizable, whenever he tries, and he doesn't think any of his memory lapses have frustrated him like this one. He should know where he's seen Nina's eyes before. He doesn't, though, cannot. Pressing his brain has yielded no answer, not as he saw her staring at him from the rearview mirror on the way to drop her off. Not when she started tearing up again when it was time to leave, not when she watched you as you reassured as she clung on to you. Not when she almost glared at him, as if for a betrayal, over the shoulder of  a social worker that carried her way. He thanks God that childcare workers have weekend shifts, because he wouldn't have known what to do with Nina for a second longer, with or without your help.

He had dropped you at your intended grocery store with too many thank-you's and awkward blushes and red stutters. Almost smacked himself in the forehead after you left the car for his total and utter inability to be coherent around you. He knows he isn't who he used to be, doesn't expect to be the ladies' man Steve tells him about, but he wishes he could at least put on a facade. At least appear sane and capable of basic human interaction. You never seem to mind, though, always offering a friendly giggle and gentle patience as he stumbles over his words. He wonders if that's a facade, too. If you're not as willing to put up with him as you appear to be, the way you were with Nina yesterday.

He could tell you were out of your depth, but you handled it like a champ. Handled her, rather. All his thought processes are circling back to Nina, and he doesn't understand it. One child, left alone on his doorstep in the dead of night. The mystery of it is most inconvenient. Bucky shakes all thought of it out, and decides to participate in the conversation at the table, and jumps, to find Wanda staring at him.

She smiles as if it's not an issue, as if she hasn't been watching him for who knows how long, and reaches for another piece of pie. 

"Are you okay, Mr. Barnes?" She asks when he doesn't stop looking at her and Steve looks over. Bucky resists the urge to roll his eyes at the concern that immediately overtakes his features.

"Yeah, Buck, you look a little out of it. Everything alright?" Steve leans on his forearms, ready to do whatever is required to put Bucky at ease. The others start to get up as lunch is now over. Bucky begins to answer Steve as he makes his way past him with a plate to put away. 

"I'm fine, Stevie. Don't wor-" Ring. Saved by the bell. Bucky puts the plate down and pulls his phone out of his pocket and looks at the caller ID; it's an unsaved number. His teammates are bustling about, getting ready to settle down in the living room, and he mutters a generic excuse me and answers the call. While holding the phone to his ear, he accidentally presses the speaker button.

"Hello?" He says gruffly, standing in the foyer.

"Is this Sergeant Barnes?" A woman asks from the other end. The TV has been turned off, Nate's attention diverted. The four-year-old runs out of the room, barely missing Bucky's legs, and rushes up the stairs.

"Yeah, who's askin' ?" Everyone in the next room has gone quiet, and he - super senses and all - does not know it yet, back to the door, eyes on his socks scuffing against the worn floorboards, and ears on the professional, straight-cut voice on the phone.

"It's about the girl you brought in to our Brooklyn office yesterday morning. Nina?" Bucky holds his breath. He had given the CPS office his number to let him know when they found her parents. Something in him, maybe the forgotten big brother part that still holds on to Becca, feels a responsibility towards the girl. And he can't get rid of the niggling question that asks: why would someone go to all that trouble to leave her on his doorstep?

"Yeah? What about her?" He shifts his weight, tucks a hand in his pocket, clenches and opens his fist. "Have you found her parents?" 

"Sir, you're the father." Bucky's heart stops. He freezes, blood turning to stone and muscles to glass. The anger floods his cheeks red. Steve stands, cup of coffee neglected on the table.

"Is this some kinda joke? 'Cause I don't find it funny. That's impossible." He fumes, now pacing, assassin-silent stalk abandoned in favor of heavy treading across the planks. His hair curtains his face and he pushes it back as he listens closely to her response.

"Sir, we conducted a DNA test to see if there was a match in the system, and you are the father." Bucky ceases pacing when he meets Steve's eyes through the doorway, tunnel vision excluding the others' stares. 

"Did you find the mother?" He asks, hand no longer raking through his hair, but pulling at the strands.

"That's the second cause of concern, Sergeant Barnes. The mother was found murdered in Bushwick on Saturday morning." She replies, apology now saturating her tone. Bucky can taste the sympathy through the phone, and he doesn't know whether to swallow it up or vomit. 

"What's her name?" He manages.

"Irene Petrov." 

"What's going to happen to Nina?" Bucky asks, not accepting this result, but retaining some semblance of pragmatism. He doesn't have a daughter. He can't have a daughter. The name Irene rings no bells, and there's no way, even with his bruised, battered memory, that he would forget making a child with someone. The idea that she's dead sends a jolt to his gut, and he staggers. The nausea that comes with the gut feeling that something is not right tastes like metal and bile in his throat, and he heaves in deep breaths of clean country air in order to listen to the woman answer his question.

"You have custody, unless you decide to give it up, in which case she'll enter the foster system." Clint is now on his feet, too; Wanda's taken to biting her nails. 

"Okay. Okay, alright. Can you send me the results? I'll pick her up soon." Bucky wrings his free hand, asking for some sort of verification. He needs proof. Evidence. Something to hold onto as the world swims around him, buzzing ears barely perceiving the woman's promise to send him the documents, and subsequent good-bye. A headache builds between his eyes as he turns back to Steve, holding his phone like he doesn't know what it is, or what it does. 

"Buck? What was that all about?" Steve speaks first, walking up to him, audience forgotten. Bucky looks over his shoulder to realize they heard the entire conversation, but finds that he doesn't fully care. He told them about finding Nina earlier, and now they know everything. Just as well, he would have had to tell them anyway.

"You heard everything, Steve. Don't know what more there is to say." He chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief at the phone in his hand. The phone buzzes, signaling an email. 

"These are the DNA test results. Got no idea how that's possible, but there you go." He shows Steve the phone screen, still shaking his head, unsure whether to laugh or scream. A daughter. 

An hour later sees him standing inside the reception he dropped Nina off at yesterday, not knowing that her mother was dead in a proverbial ditch a stone's throw away. Irene Petrov. The name means nothing to him, but he can't trust his mind, based on the events of late. 

Sam is standing on his right, and Steve to his left, both silent and in wait. After verification of the results through a quick phone call with F.R.I.D.A.Y., they had left Clint's house together in Sam's car. Both men had insisted on joining him, noticing his evident despair, and wanted to be by his side. A social worker holding Nina’s hand emerges from a hallway, and Bucky moves forward. It’s the same woman who coaxed Nina away yesterday when he dropped her off. 

“Sergeant Barnes. Nice to see you again.” She says, smiling, but Bucky suspects she’s disgusted. Suspects that he tried to abandon his daughter - his daughter? - and was found out. He forces a stiff nod in response.

“Hi.” He says, then looks at Nina, whose gaze is defiant, chin turned up. She’s angry, as angry as a child can be, anyhow. 

Before he can address her, however, the social worker gestures for him to follow her to a seating area nearby, still holding Nina’s hand. They sit, and she opens a slim manila folder, showing him the documents within. Rather, the alarming lack thereof.

“Nina has no record, Sergeant Barnes. No birth certificate, in the US or otherwise, as far as we can see. No passport, medical records, any official documents of registration. We’ve just registered her here, though, and it’s on the basis of that registration that we’ve made the papers assigning you to have her full custody. Please sign here.” She hands him a pen, turns the page towards him, and he reads through it. Lifts the paper to see copies of the DNA report underneath. After mere moments of deliberation - wasted moments, it’s not like he has a choice - he signs the fateful paper. Wipes his palms on his thighs anxiously, looks at Nina but talks to the social worker.

“Can we go now?” He asks, like a teenager excusing themselves from the dinner table. Nina’s watching him, curious, piercing blue eyes fixated on him. Perhaps he recognizes them because they’re her mother’s, who he doesn’t recall meeting, but his subconscious does. Is that why they’re so startingly familiar? He shakes the query out of his head, once again, and stands when the woman does. She nods, wishes him well, and hands Nina over, points out the car seat and backpack that has now been brought out. She waves goodbye, and Nina watches her go, patiently, unmoving. Bucky bends down, rests one knee on the beige carpet, and looks at her.

“Hey, Nina, remember me? I’m-”

“Bucky.” She blurts out, and he is taken aback. Didn’t expect her to remember his name, and he knows she only does because of the conversation between you and him on the way here. You had introduced him. This is my friend, Bucky. He’s nice. He smiles at Nina, nods, and holds out his hand out to shake hers. Almost withdraws it when her eyes widen, and he prays she doesn’t cry again. Calmer than yesterday, having had time to come to terms with this horrible predicament, she doesn’t cry. Instead she shakes his hand, and he releases the breath he was holding hostage in his chest, pressure from his lungs relieved but the pressure on his hand remains. She has a firm handshake.

“Yeah, I’m gonna be taking care of you. Is that okay?” He asks, fully aware of Steve and Sam’s stares burning into him. He can see a smirk and a dropped jaw from his peripherals, and feels like pumping a fist in the air just for Sam’s awestruck gaze. Internally thanks Steve for having more faith in him than he does himself. He’s not the only one, because it seems that Nina is starting to trust him, too. 

“Yes.” She says, voice a whisper, gliding around him. He stands, and holds out his hand. The feeling of her small fingers wrapping around his large, calloused ones is indescribable. Soft, warm, they fit in his perfectly, and unbelievably, inexplicably, Bucky’s heart soars. His stomach is still in knots, the thought of Irene Petrov doing somersaults in his abdomen, but for the first time since yesterday morning, he thinks something feels right. Her hand in his is comfortable, and he doesn’t want to let go. Stifling the smile, he finally gets to where Steve and Sam are.

“Nina, these are my friends.” She doesn’t respond, looks up at the men unimpressed, and he smiles again. “This is Steve, and this is Sam.” He says as each man kneels down to say hello.

“Where is the lady?” She asks, her r and l pronounced as w’s, and Bucky blanches. Thinks of you, doing more than you should have, kind mind and sound heart, helping him drop Nina off with your shy smile and glinting eyes. Wonders if you’ll understand his situation, even though he knows he has bigger fish to fry than worry about his chances at taking you on a date when he now has a girl, a whole person, to take care of. So he tells that girl the only thing that comes to mind.

“She was busy, honey, I’m sorry. Hey, do you want to get ice-cream on the way home?” He says, and changes the subject before she can react. She frowns, then perks up slightly, nods for ice-cream. Unfortunately- 

“Ice-cream in November, Buck? She’ll get sick before you’ve even brought her home” Steve points out, and she glares at him. Bucky very nearly laughs at the look on her face, and Sam grins.

“Okay, okay, ice-cream in November.” Steve actually laughs, holding his hands up in surrender, waving away the distrust on Nina’s tiny, chubby face. Bucky’s gaze goes to her little hands unclenching from the fists they were in.

“Alright, man, let’s go.” Sam says, picking up the car seat and patting Bucky on the shoulder as he leads them out. Bucky grins, if only for a moment, watches the beginnings of a smile on Nina’s face as they leave the building.

---

Kamenev holds two empty glass vials up to the flickering lightbulb suspended from the ceiling. One used to contain hairs belonging to the Fist of Hydra, proof of DNA just in case. The other held a fingerprint mold of the same man - biometric identity. He smashes the vials in a tissue, flushes it all down the toilet of another dirty motel bathroom. 

He’s sick of these dingy, disgusting places, knows he deserves better. He deserves the world at his feet, after his scientific accomplishment, the only evidence of which is the child itself. The child that has been slipping out of his grasp like sand through his fingers. She manages to evade him, even when her mother could not. However, he is sure he will find her soon. He must.

Taglist:  @suz-123 @mermaidxatxheart @buckyreaderrecs @shield-agent78 @corneliabarnes @readerandcinephileingeneral @stevieboyharrington @captainchrisstan @mickmoon @notsomellowmushroom @alyxkbrl @mcueveryday @jennmurawski13 @hailqueenconquer @luckyfiction17 @veganfangirl5

[letterboxd]

The Package.

As the bonkers genre thrill-ride Shadow in the Cloud blasts into the new year, writer and director Roseanne Liang unpacks her love of Terminator 2, watching Chloë Grace Moretz’s face for hours, and the life lesson she learned from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon’s Cheng Pei-Pei.

Roseanne Liang’s TIFF Midnight Madness winner Shadow in the Cloud landed with a blast of fresh genre energy on VOD platforms on New Year’s Day. It’s A-class action in a B-grade body, cramming plenty into its taut 83 minutes, including: a top-secret package, a freakish gremlin, a hostile bunch of Air Force dudes, outrageous stunts, dogfights and a fake wartime PSA that feels remarkably real.

Throughout, the camera is focused mostly on one face—Chloë Grace Moretz’s, playing British flight officer Maude Garrett—as she tackles all of the above from a claustrophobic ball turret hanging under a B-17 Flying Fortress, on a classified mission over the Pacific Ocean during World War II.

While the film’s tonal swings are confusing to some, schlock enthusiasts and genre lovers on Letterboxd have embraced the film’s intentionally outlandish sensibility, which “makes excellent use of its genre mash to create an unpredictable, guilty pleasure,” says Mirza. Fajar writes that “it felt like the people involved in this project knew how ridiculous it is and gave a hundred and ten percent to make it work. Someday, it will become a cult classic.” Mawbey agrees: “It really goes off the rails in all the best ways during the final third, and the last couple of shots are just perfect.”

Chloë Grace Moretz and her top-secret package in ‘Shadow in the Cloud’.

To most of the world, Liang is a so-called “emerging” director, when in fact, the mother-of-two, born in New Zealand to Chinese parents, has been at this game for the past two decades. She has helmed a documentary and a romantic drama, both based on her own marriage; a 2008 short called Take 3, which preceded Hollywood’s current conversation about representation and harassment; and Do No Harm, the splatter-tastic 2017 short in which her technical chops and fluid feel for action were on full display, and, as recorded in multiple Letterboxd reviews, established her as one to watch.

Do No Harm scored Liang valuable Hollywood representation, whereupon producer Brian Kavanaugh-Jones brought Shadow in the Cloud to her, thinking she might connect with the material. “It did connect with me on a level that is very personal,” Liang tells me. “As a woman of color, as a mother who juggles a lot.” She says Kavanaugh-Jones then went through the process of removing original writer Max Landis from the project. “He felt that Max was not a good fit for this project, or for how we like to run things. We like to be respectful and courteous and kind to each other…”

In several interviews, Liang has said she’s comfortable with film lovers choosing not to watch Shadow in the Cloud based on Landis’s early involvement. What she’s not comfortable with is her own contribution—and that of her cast and crew—being erased. While WGA rules have his name attached firmly to the project, the credit belies the reality: his thin script, reportedly stretched out to 70 pages by using a larger-than-usual font, was expanded and deepened by Liang and her collaborators.

Writer-director Roseanne Liang. / Photo by Dean O’Gorman

That team includes editor Tom Eagles, Oscar nominated for Jojo Rabbit, actor Nick Robinson (the titular Simon in Love, Simon) and Beulah Koale, a star of the Hawaii Five-Oh series. The opening newsreel was created by award-winning New Zealand animation studio Mukpuddy, after a small test audience got weirded out by the sight of a gremlin in a war film, despite well-documented WWI and WWII gremlin mythology. It’s an unnecessary but happy addition. The cartoon style was inspired by Private Snafu, a series of WWII educational cartoons scripted by none other than Dr. Seuss and directed by Looney Tunes legend Chuck Jones.

But the film ultimately hangs on Chloë Grace Moretz, who overcame cabin fever to drive home an adrenaline rush of screen craft, in which the very limits of what’s humanly possible in mid-air are tested (in ways, it must be said, that wouldn’t be questioned if it were Tom Cruise in the role). Liang would often send directions to Moretz’s ball turret via text, while her cast members delivered live dialogue from an off-set shipping container rigged with microphones. “I just never got sick of Chloë’s face and I’ve watched her hundreds, if not thousands of times. You feel her, you are her, she just engages you in a way that a huge fighting scene might not, if it’s not designed well. Giant empty spectacle is less interesting than one person in one spot, sometimes.”

Ambitious and nerdy about film in equal measure, it’s clear there’s much more to come from Liang, and I’m interested in what her most valuable lesson has been so far. Turns out, it’s a great story involving Chinese veteran Cheng Pei-Pei (Come Drink With Me’s Golden Swallow, and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon’s Jade Fox), whose film training includes a tradition of remaining on set throughout filming.

Roseanne Liang on the set of ‘Shadow in the Cloud’.

That meant that, during filming of Liang’s My Wedding and Other Secrets, Cheng would stay on set when she wasn’t required. “In New Zealand, trailers are a luxury,” Liang explains. “I said ‘Don’t you want to go to the trailer that we arranged for you?’ ‘No, I just want to sit and watch.’ ‘Why do you want to watch it, you’ve seen it hundreds of times!’ And she said ‘I learn something new every time’. To Pei-Pei, the secret of life is constant education and curiosity and learning. Movies are her work and her craft and her life, and she never gets bored. If I can be like her, that’s the life, right?”

Speaking of which, it’s time we put Liang through our Life in Film interrogation.

What’s the film that made you want to become a filmmaker? Terminator 2: Judgment Day is the movie that is at the top of the mountain that I’m climbing. To me it’s the perfect blend of spectacle, action design, smarts and heart. It poses the theory that if a robot can learn the value of humanity then maybe there’s hope for the ships that are us. That’s perennial, and possibly even more pertinent today. It holds a very special place in my heart, along with Aliens, Mad Max: Fury Road, Die Hard, La Femme Nikita and Léon: The Professional.

What’s your earliest memory of watching a film? I have a cassette tape that my dad made for my grandma in 1981 (he’d send tapes back to his mother in Hong Kong). I was three years old and he had just taken us to see The Empire Strikes Back in the cinema. And he can’t talk to my grandma because I’m just going on and on about R2-D2. I will not shut up about R2-D2 and he’s like, “Yes, yes I’m trying to talk to your grandmother,” and I’m like, “But Dad! Dad! R2-D2!” So it’s actually an archive, but it’s become my memory.

What’s the most romantic film you’ve ever seen? Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. It’s not the sexiest, but it’s the most romantic. That last scene, those last words where she goes “But you’re gonna be like this forever and I’m gonna be like this forever…” and he just goes “okay”. That to me is one of the most romantic scenes I’ve ever seen. It is a perfect movie.

And the scariest? If it’s a horror movie, the most scared I’ve been is The Ring. I was watching it on a VHS and I was lying on a beanbag on the floor and I was paralyzed with fear. I couldn’t move, because I felt that if I moved she’d see me! Also, American Psycho just came to me this year. I caught the twentieth anniversary of that movie, which is a terrifying film, and again, possibly more relevant now than when it was made. The scariest film that’s not a horror is Joker. It scared me how much I liked it. When I came out of the movie, I was like, “I’m scared because I kind of love it, but it’s horrible. It’s so irresponsible. I don’t wanna like this movie but goddamn, I feel it.” Like, I wanted to go on the streets and rage. In a way we’re all the Joker, we’re all the Batman. That duality, that yin and yang, is inside everyone of us. It’s universal.

What is the film that slays you every time, leaving you in a heap of tears? This is a classic one, the opening sequence of Up. The first ten minutes of Up just destroy me every time. I also saw Soul a couple of days ago and I was with the whole family and I, just, if I wasn’t with the whole family I would have been ugly-sobbing. I had a real ache in my throat after the movie because I was trying to stop [myself] from sobbing.

Tell me your favorite coming-of-age film, the film that first gave you ‘teenage feelings’? Pump Up the Volume. Christian Slater! Off the back of Pump Up the Volume, I fancied myself as a prophet and wrote a theater piece called Lemmings. Obviously the main character was a person who could see through the façade, and everyone else was following norms. “No one understands me, I’m a prophet!” So clearly I have this shitty, Joker-style megalomaniac inside of me. It was the worst play, and I don’t know why my teachers agreed for us to do a staging of it!

Christian Slater and Samantha Mathis in ‘Pump Up the Volume’ (1990).

Is there a film that you and your family love to rewatch? We’ve tried to impose our taste on our children, but they’re too young. We showed them The Princess Bride—they didn’t get it. We literally showed our babies Star Wars in their cribs. That’s how obsessive Star Wars fans we were.

Name a director and/or writer that you deeply admire for their use of the artform. I have a slightly weird answer for this. Can I just give love to Every Frame a Painting by Tony Zhou and Taylor Ramos? They are my film school. I was thinking of my love of Edgar Wright, but then I thought of their video essay on Edgar Wright and how to film comedy, and his essay on Jackie Chan and the rhythm of action and then their essay on the Coen Brothers and Shot Reverse Shot. I must have watched that 30 times ahead of the TV show that I’m making now. I started out in editorial and Tony Zhou is an editor and he talks about when to make the cut: it’s an instinct, it’s a feeling, it’s a rhythm. I realized the one thing in common that I could mention about all the films I’ve loved is Every Frame a Painting. It’s their love of movies that comes bubbling out of every single essay that they made that I just wanna shout out at this part of my career.

Were there any crucial films that you turned to in your development for Shadow in the Cloud? Indiana Jones was something that Chloë brought up—she likes the spiffiness and the humor of Indiana Jones. Sarah Connor was our touchstone for the female character. For one-person-in-one-space type stories, I watched Locke quite a lot, to figure out how they shaped tension and story and [kept] us on the edge of our seats when it’s only one person in one space. In terms of superheroes, I came back to Aliens. Not Alien. Aliens. You know, there are two types of people in this world—people who prefer Alien over Aliens, and people who prefer Aliens over Alien. But actually I think I vacillate for different reasons.

Can there be a third type of person, who thinks they’re both great, but Alien³, just, no? Maybe that’s the best group to be in. We don’t need to fight about this, we can love both of them! I was having an argument with James Wan’s company about this, because there’s a rift inside the company of people who prefer Alien over Aliens.

Okay, program a triple feature with your film as one of the three. I don’t know. Ask Ant Timpson!

I’ll ask Ant Timpson. [We did, and he replied: “Well, one has to be the Twilight Zone episode with William Shatner: Nightmare at 20,000 Feet. And then either Life (2017) or Altitude (2010).”]

Thank you Ant! I used to go to his all-nighters as a university student. He is the king of programming things.

Jake Gyllenhaal in ‘Life’ (2017).

It’s strange that we never met at one of his events! Ant would make me dress up in strange outfits and do weird skits between films. (For those who don’t know, Timpson ran the Incredibly Strange Film Festival for many years—now part of the New Zealand International Film Festival—and still runs an annual 24-Hour Movie Marathon.) So what’s a film from those events that sticks in your head as the perfect genre experience with a crowd? It was a movie about a man protecting a woman who was the girlfriend of a mafia boss: A Bittersweet Life. Not only does it have one of the sexiest Korean actors, sorry, not to objectify, but also I actually screenshot a lot of that film for pitch documents. And, do you remember a crazy Japanese movie where someone’s sitting on the floor with a clear umbrella and a woman is lactating milk? Visitor Q by Takashi Miike. I remember just how fucking crazy that was.

Finally, what was the best film you saw in 2020? I haven’t seen Nomadland yet, so keep in mind that I haven’t seen all the films this year. I have three: The Invisible Man, which I thought was just amazing. I thought [writer-director] Leigh Whannell did such a great job. The Half of It by Alice Wu, a quiet movie that I simply just adored. And then the last movie I saw at the cinema was Promising Young Woman. The hype is real.

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‘Shadow in the Cloud’ is available in select theaters and on video on demand now.

[naly1109]

Your Lovely Wicked Soul

Summary: Witch au, Reader X Bang Chan feat. Stray Kids (Narrator's POV)

Summary: Y/N is well known and beloved amongst the people of her home village. Being a powerful Witch, she helps the people using her Gifts to increase crops, heal the sick, and protect the townsfolk and other favors. When her Grandfather sends her away to save her from the misfortune of becoming the awful King’s bride, he sends her across worlds into the hands of a man bearing an uncanny resemblance to the tyrant King.

~Chapter 3~

To My Beloved Y/N,

I hope you are faring well in the other world I have sent you to. I am writing you this letter knowing that I have sent you away. I had Foreseen the King coming with the Members of the Witch Society and how he would try to take you away by force. I had tried to think up many different ways to keep the events leading up to my death and your departure from happening, but unfortunately there was no way around it. Each scenario I Foresaw would end in my death, with you being taken by Talmas and abused to do his bidding. I would not allow my Granddaughter to live such a horrible fate as the one I Foresaw, even if it meant giving my life so you may be safe. I told you that I would be sending you to someone who could help. I am sending you to the last known location of a Witch that was banished to that world over two decades ago, and it will be a while before they make their presence known to you. They will be able to help you increase your Gift’s power to return home and put a better King upon the throne, and soon. For I have also Foreseen that, in a year’s time, Talmas will wage a massive war using Witches, none like our history has ever seen, and it will leave our world in ruin and with the near annihilation of Witches. I am sorry I cannot give you details, for if I reveal anything too soon, it can alter the fate of our world. This is the fate I have Foreseen for you for many years, even before your father, I just didn’t know it was my own Granddaughter until I held you for the first time. I know you will miss me greatly, for I will miss you too, but know that I am reunited with your Grandmother, to watch you from the Stars with your Father and Mother. I am proud to be your Grandfather and I love you more than words could describe. You brought light into my life and made it enjoyable. Stay blessed my Little Opal Star.

With Love and Adoration,

Your Gaba, Lessio

Y/N reads the letter for what might be the 100th time today, wiping away tears. She is currently waiting for the men to return from their shooting so she could ask if they know anything of the Witch sent here years ago. She gets bored waiting in the living room for the object they called a ‘clock’ to put its arms in the position Felix said it would be in when they arrived, so she goes to the kitchen. Y/N always felt more at ease in the kitchen back at home, making delicious meals for her and Gaba, or mixing herbs for medicine and ointments. She looks around the kitchen and can make out what some of the objects are and what they are used for, but some things seem quite foreign to her.

Y/N heads for the thing Jeongin called a ‘fridge’ to grab some of the delicious banana’s milk. She allows her curiosity to get the better of her and she begins rummaging through the boys’ kitchen to see what other items she could find that are similar to what she used back at home. As she sips on her banana milk and rummages through the kitchen, the boys finally arrive back from their shooting.

“Oh, thank the Stars! I was beginning to get bored.” Y/N says as she approaches the boys. “So what did you bring back from your shooting?” she asks, looking at the boys’ hands expectedly, only to find that they brought no kills. “Did you not fair well with the game? Maybe I can go with you next time. I am an excellent hunter.” she finishes with a small smile.

The boys exchange a look of confusion. “Um. We didn’t go hunting. We went to a Variety Show shoot.” Seungmin tells Y/N. “And you could’ve turned the TV on if you were bored instead of pulling apart our kitchen.” he says, eyeing the mess of cooking utensils and dishes, the rest of the boys’ glance over to see what he is talking about.

“The irritating flat box would not power on for me, so I let it be. Besides, it hurts my head thinking of how you get those people in there. Do they feel cramped in there? Or is it like my Cloak where there is a large space made beyond the fabric?” Y/N asks as she moves towards the kitchen to put away everything she pulled out.

The boys go to help her, but recall she doesn’t need it when the items all levitate and return to their places in the kitchen.

“It's called technology, and it's complicated.” Chan says while dodging a pan that is flying to its place in the cabinet behind him. “We use it for everything from transportation, to communication, to entertainment, to medicine. It's not a ‘Gift’ or ‘Spell’, but something that was invented by someone a long time ago, and improved by many great minds over the years to get us what we have today.”

“That sounds like a Gift to me.” Y/N states after she considers his response for a minute. “It may not manifest the way ours does back home, but it is a power unique to your world that continues to develop and advance, it is used for everyday tasks, and it is provided by a few and accessible to everyone. Sounds like how Gifts work back in my world.” She points out the similarities between Gifts and what they call ‘technology’.

“I mean… She has a point, Hyung.” Felix says, understanding Y/N’s point of view.

Y/N pauses, “What’s a variety show? And why do you shoot it?”

Hyunjin answers her this time, “It's a show that does a variety of activities and challenges and games. And we shoot it using cameras. They are equipment used to capture our images and then send them to everyone’s TV, or what you called ‘irritating flat box’.” He moves to try to power up the TV, discovering that the remote needs new batteries.

Y/N nods, processing the new information Hyunjin provided. She has so many more questions on how so many other things in their world work, but they would have to wait. Right now, she needed to find the Witch that could help her back home. Whoever they are, Y/N really hopes she will find them soon.

“Would you guys happen to know of any other  person who may have appeared in a similar manner as I in recent decades?” Y/N decides to question the boys before going further off the topic she’s been waiting to discuss with them. “I found a letter in Gaba’s Grimoire addressed to me. And in the letter, he tells me that he is sending me to the last known location of a Witch banished here over 20 years ago. It’s really important that I find them.”

“I’ve never heard of another person from another world coming in how you did.” Jisung stated. “And some of us may not have been born yet.” he adds.

“I guess that’s true.” Y/N says, rubbing at her chin in thought. “Would you happen to have access to an archive? Somewhere information is stored? Perhaps, if I can find an inexplicable string of odd events, it can lead me to them.”

The boys all think about it for a moment. Chan is the one who answers. “I think we might be able to go to the library and search through old newspapers and stuff there for any odd, unexplainable events. Our schedule is open for the rest of the day, so we can help her out.” he suggests to the boys, and they all nod in agreement.

“Wait.” Hyunjin stops and gets everyone’s attention. “Don’t you think that all of us walking up into a library with a girl will grab some attention? Add to that, the girl we’re walking in with has freakishly unusual eyes.” Everyone’s eyes shift to the outworlder.

“You can change them using a Spell, can’t you?” Jeongin asks Y/N with wide eyes.

“I could, but a Spell like that will require a lot of focus on my part. So if my focus shifts to anything but the Spell, it will stop working.” She answers the youngest boy.

“Um, how about contacts?” Jisung suggests. “I have a spare blue colored pair in the bathroom?”

“I think that’ll be our best bet.” Chan agrees, and Jisung turns to run to the bathroom to retrieve the contacts.

“What are ‘contacts’?” Y/N asks, her voice hinting a bit of concern. Just then Jisung returns with the case containing the contacts. He hands them to Y/N and she looks at it questioningly, not sure what the boy expects her to do with the foreign object. Jisung looks at her and gives her an encouraging smile and nod. 

“Oh!” he says, realizing she doesn’t know what to do. “They are contacts to change the color of your eyes. You just put them in your eyes and blink.” He makes it sound easy. He takes the case from Y/N, opens it, and hands it back.

Y/N takes out the contact and examines it. She finds the curved, blue tinted piece of film odd on her finger, and she accidentally drops it. She picks it back up and she can see the specks of dirt on it. “Sorry.” she tells Jisung.

“That’s okay. I’ll go grab the solution to rinse it.” Jisung states before turning and heading back into the bathroom. “Here.” he says, coming back and grabbing the contact to rinse it with the solution. “Do you need help?” he questions and receives a nod from her.

“I’ll help you.” Chan offers before anyone else can, surprising himself. “That is, if you're okay with it.” he adds, not wanting to sound too forward with her. He felt a pang of unexplainable jealousy when he thought of any of the other boys being so close with her.

Y/N looks at Chan. “Yes.” she says. She blinks, surprised at her answer, for she had intended to decline.

Chan fights a smile as he approaches Y/N to assist her. His heart in a frenzy at the thought of her being close to him. He grabs the contact case and puts it down, then he grabs the contact from her and takes a step closer to her.

Y/N feels herself stiffen as the distance between them lessens, her heart making little erratic jumps. She swallows and hopes it goes unnoticed by the man in front of her, and by the ones still currently in the room watching as though they were watching a theater play.

“I’m gonna hold your eye open while I put in the contact. I don’t want to hurt you, so try not to flinch away, okay?” Chan states with a reassuring hand on her shoulder, holding the contact on his index finger of the other hand.

Y/N nods and allows him to touch her face. Only two people have ever touched her face in her life, aside from her parents she would assume, and they are Gaba and Ember. So the sensation of Chan’s warm hand resting on her cheek while his fingers held her eyelids open was odd. He gently put the contact into place on her eye and she fought the urge to flinch or blink. Then repeats the action with the other eye.

“There. Now blink a few times to help them align with your irises. How does it feel?” he asks after she blinks vigorously for a few seconds.

“It feels weird, like there is access film on my eyeball.” she responses, going to rub her eye.

Chan grabs her hand to stop her. “Don’t do that. You might irritate it.” he gently puts her hand back down to her side. She looks at the boys and they remain silent while they look at her. 

“It’s the lightest shade of blue eyes I have ever seen,” Hyungin speaks up. “But who is to say that there aren’t people out there who have that eye color.” he reasons and the boys nod in agreement.

“Okay then. Let’s go to the library.” Chan says, clapping his hands to get the boys moving. They all grab hats, masks, and sunglasses to hide their identity for when they want to go on outings undisturbed.

“Why are you all covering your faces?” Y/N asks as she watches the boys put on their disguises.

“We’re celebrities here, we’re part of a music group called ‘Stray Kids’, so a lot of people know our names and faces. So to protect ourselves and our friends that we go out with, we wear masks and sunglasses with hats.” Minho answers her question, and she can make out a smile behind his mask.

“Oh.” Y/N nods her head. She understood what it was like wanting to hide one’s identity to protect oneself. When she accomplished the 50 Gift combination Spells, it gathered the attention of nearly every village within a two days travel, and everyone wanted to get a look at the young Witch who accomplished what most Witches may never achieve. Even if it meant waiting outside her house for days just waiting to have her bless whatever the outsiders wanted, from vegetable seeds to cattle to babies. After about six weeks of people coming through the village and staying for days, the villagers of Old Stone Village had had enough, and chased every non-resident out.

Everyone grabs their coats to wear for the slightly chilly weather. Y/N grabs her Cloak and goes to put it on. “Wait.” Hyunjin stops her, again,  “You don’t really plan on wearing a whole ass Cloak in public, do you?” he says with a raised brow, tone laced with disapproval.

Y/N looks at the man and then around at the rest of the boys. She sees the throw over hoodie Jisung is wearing and decides to copy that. With a wave of her hands and a Spell, she changes the appearance of her Cloak to be a teal colored version of Jisung’s hoodie. “There. Now let's go.” Y/N says, throwing on the hoodie.

~

Y/N is in absolute awe when they walk into the library. She has never in her life seen so many books in one place. The largest collection of books she has seen was in Gaba’s study, and this library made it look like a sorry collection in comparison. Everywhere she looked there were books. Her eyes lit up at the thought of spending endless hours of reading and having it not be the same content over and over.

“You must really like books.” Chan says, smiling at Y/N’s awestruck face, taking note of her reaction.

“Oh yes!” Y/N states with enthusiasm. “I love reading. Ever since I was a little girl and Gaba bought me the first book of ‘The Adventurous Life of Mildie Posh’. She was my favorite fictional Witch. My best friend, Ember, and I would take turns acting out some of the stories in her books.” Y/N shares with a warm smile, and Chan can’t help but smile as well.

“Where should we go to start looking.” Changbin asks, bringing Chan’s attention to him.

“Oh. Right. Um, let me ask.” Chan says looking around for a librarian. When he spots one a little ways away, walking away from where they are, he quickly jogs to catch up.

The boys take this opportunity to question Y/N.

“So.” Minho starts, “What’s going on between you and Chan?” he asks when Y/N turns to look at him.

Y/N's eyes go wide, “What do you mean?” she asks innocently, genuinely confused by his question.

“Oh, come on. We see the way you guys look at each other. And we can practically feel the tension in the air when you are in close proximity to each other.” Minho says. The boys all have their eyes on Y/N, waiting for her answer.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. There is no tension or looking at each other going on between Chan and I.” face feeling slightly heated at the prospect of being in that kind of relationship with Chan.

“Chan totally got jealous when I offered to help you put in the contacts. And he was practically mentally stabbing Hyunjin yesterday when he was trying to help you with your chopsticks. He’s never acted that way towards a girl, even the ones who have confessed to him.” Jisung says, watching Y/N’s face turn pink at his words.

Just then, Chan comes jogging back up. “Okay, the librarian said we can find all the old newspapers on the second floor.” He looks around the group and notices awkward faces and a slightly flushed Y/N. “What were you guys talking about?” he asks with an eyebrow quirked up.

“Nothing.” all the boys say in unison before they all walk towards the stairs, leaving Chan and Y/N behind. Chan looks at Y/N and she just shakes her head at him then scurries off to join the rest of the boys, leaving Chan feeling like he just missed something important.

~

Several hours pass while looking for any information that may help Y/N find the Witch she is looking for. The boys helped with the search while also showing each other different stories they would find about murders, celebrity gossip, or a scandal that a politician may or may not have been involved in. Eventually, the librarian came to inform them that the library would close in an hour.

“Ugh! All this information we’ve sifted through, and not a single clue as to where this Witch might be!” Jisung exclaims, earning several shushes from the few people still in the library. “Sorry.” he whispers.

“I don’t think we will find anything here.” Changbin says, groaning into his hands, his eyes feeling the strain of reading through so many articles for the past several hours.

“Changbin’s right.” Minho agrees, rolling his head back on his shoulders. “My eyes, shoulders, and back are starting to hurt.” He rolls his head to either side, neck popping. “Ah, yeah.”

“Okay. Let’s put this all away and go. I’m starving anyway.” Chan says, realizing they hadn’t eaten since before filming the variety show, and his stomach is protesting.

“Me too.” Y/N states from beside him. It made Chan happy when Y/N sat down next to him. She may have had no other choice since the other guys took all the other seats around the table by the time Y/N and Chan caught up. But nonetheless, he felt jolts of excitement each time she would ask him to clarify a word or phrase she was unfamiliar with. She didn’t look at his face once, but still, he swears he felt her eyeing his arms and hands.

Minho yawns from the other side of Y/N. He stretches his arms out, hands towards his head, to the sides. To avoid being hit by his elbow, Y/N leans away. Into Chan. He puts a hand on her back to brace her before she’s completely leaning on him. She feels his large hand splay out between her shoulders and panics.

What happens next is too great to miss:

Once Y/N goes into panic mode, she jolts upward to stand, but before she completes a full stance, her left eye comes into contact with Minho’s elbow that is still outward. They both jump away from the painful contact, Minho into Jeongin on his other side, causing their heads to collide in what sounded like the painful clash of blocks of wood (POOR JEONGIN!), and Y/N back into Chan. Before Chan can brace himself to catch Y/N, she lands on top of him, causing both of them to tumble back with the chair. Chan’s legs hit the table, causing it to tilt and toss the newspapers and books to the floor. Changbin, Hyunjin, and Jisung catch the table before it completely tilts over. Y/N lands on top of Chan, his arms around her as though to protect her small frame from being injured. Y/N realizes she is on top of Chan, hands on his chest, legs tangled together, and faces only centimeters away from each other. Y/N, once again, panics and goes to get up, kneeing Chan in the tenderparts, as Gaba called them. Chan lets out a loud groan and clutches his groin in pain.

“Oh my Stars! I’m so sorry!” Y/N says, quite loudly, when she sees Chan’s face become a crimson red, his veins in his neck becoming quite prominent as his face is twisted in pain.

“Holy shit.” Jisung says, leaning over from the other side of the table.

At this point, the librarian comes to see what the heck was going on with all the commotion, being quite annoyed. “What is going on over here?” he asks, giving the boys a sharp glare.

“I’m sorry, Mister,” Y/N says, giving the man her best innocent look, “It was an accident. We’ll clean it all up, I promise.”

The librarian looks at Y/N and practically melts, all the boys do, including Chan, who is still on the ground. “Okay. If you clean it all up, all is forgiven, but please keep it down.” he finishes with a stern look. He turns to take his leave, but not before receiving a nod of understanding from a few of the group, and the few other people remaining in the library go back to studying.

“What the heck?” Felix asks, “What was that feeling? Like I was just putty in your hands?”

“Sorry. The Spell affects the overall atmosphere and not the individual.” Y/N states sheepishly.

“You used a Spell just now? But I didn’t even see you wave your hands or anything.” Felix says.

“Not all Spells require hand motions. I just chanted in my head as I spoke.” Y/N clarifies. “Let’s hurry and get this picked up so we can eat.”

“I don’t think all of us staying is a good idea.” Minho states, “We tend to be rather loud together.” The other guys eye him with suspicion, knowing he has an ulterior motive. He’s Lee Know for Christ’s sake.

“I agree.” Seungmin says, “Those responsible for making the mess will stay and clean up. While those of us not responsible will go and get something to eat. And maybe take it to the house. Where it's okay if we make a mess.”

“Who’s responsible then, Hyung?” Jeongin asks, rubbing the lump on the side of his head, courtesy of Lee Minho.

“This is how it all played out,” Seungmin recalls the events, having witnessed how everything happened from one end of the table: *Insert Events From Above Here*

“So obviously Chan-Hyung, Minho-Hyung, and Y/N-Noona are responsible for the mess, and should stay to clean it up.” Seungmin finishes the story with a smug grin.

Everyone takes a moment to process the events described to them by Seungmin.

“I’ll pay for everyone’s meal if I don’t have to stay and clean up.” Minho raises his hand while he pitches the offer he knows none of them can refuse.

“Deal!” the ‘00 Line says in unison. Minho sports a triumphant smirk.

“Wha-!” Y/N and Chan say in unison, Y/N supporting Chan, keeping him from falling to the floor again in pain. She got him good.

“How is that fair, Man?” Chan asks in disbelief at his friend. Minho simply shrugs at his older member.

“Okay then, let’s go.” Changbin starts to lead the members out, leaving Y/N and Chan alone. For the second time today. Chan looks at Felix and Jeongin, and they both awkwardly avoid his gaze and leave to follow Changbin with Seungmin and Jisung.

“It’s okay,” Y/N tells Chan, “I’ll have this cleaned really quick.” She goes to raise her arms, and Chan grabs them to stop her.

“No, you can’t do that here. Remember?” Chan says quietly to her. Wide eyed, she nodded, heart flipping at his touch, causing her to step back before he noticed.

“We’ll text you when we decide on where to get food so you can let us know what you want.” Hyunjin informs Chan. “Minho-Hyung’s paying so we’ll eat well tonight.” he says with a sly grin to Minho that makes the older man regret his offer. Hyunjin turns to walk away with a wave, followed by Minho, and catch up with the others.

Once all the boys are well enough away from the pair, Jeongin turns to Minho, “Did you have to be so extravagant with it? My head hurts now, thanks to you.”

“Sorry. I didn’t expect her to jump away from him how she did. She must not have had many men interact with her where she’s from.” Minho smiles, slightly proud of his work.

“And I’m sure Lee Minho is proud of his accomplishment.” Minho beams at Hyunjin’s comment, and the younger rolls his eyes. “Still, was it necessary to leave them alone to clean? It was all your fault, after all.”

Minho’s smile broadens, “Of course! They’ll thank me later if they ever find out it was intentional.” he states, self-accomplishment written all over his face. Then he suddenly goes serious, "And if any of you intentionally try to throw me under the bus for this, I'll tell them you all gave me the idea." He says, eyes narrowed at the younger men.

“Whatever. Let’s go eat. I’m feeling chicken.” Jisung says, and the boys agree as they exit the library.

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

A/N: Hello! And thank you so much for reading another chapter of my story! I greatly appreciate all who are reading and enjoying my work! ILYASM! Stay for the next one