#can I cook? nope but i must survive somehow

[sizeable-star-wars]

Major Ahsoka Episode 1 and 2 Spoilers below.

This is my brief review of the first two episodes.

Ugh, Disney. For five minutes, can you not write formulaic, predicable stories. FOR FIVE MINUTES?!

I'll start off with things I like:

1) The Fan Service is strong with this one. Ahsoka is good, Rosario Dawson once again delivers a good performance. Having Hera featuring so heavily in it is great too, her actress does a good job. They even get a very good facsimily of Ezra, which was a nice bit. Hopefully they put him to good use.

2) The supporting cast have given good performances too. The male "Jedi?" seems cool, and his Apprentice is interesting. Though I predict she is going to change sides down the line. She just has that air about her.

3) The effects are good, on par with usual Star Wars. However some of the practical alien costumes are a bit... stunted. There's a Mon-Calamari officer at the start who can't seem to flex his lower arms or his fingers, just like the Rhodian guy in Book of Boba Fett.

4) Chopper is a highlight, a fun highlight 😄 You can tell what he's trying to say. Hopefully we get to see him commit more w*r cr*mes! 😄

5) The HK Droids are awesome. While they're not like our beloved HK-47, they are still decent side-adversaries.

Now for the things I don't like:

1) It is so, so predictable and formulaic. Ahsoka shows Sabine the show's first McGuffin device (more on that later) and tells her to stay put. Sabine did not stay put.

Sabine makes the McGuffin work, only for the enemy to show up and steal it. Things go bad. But luckily they left behind a clue for them to follow!

They go to the place, and surprise-surprise, people loyal to the bad guys are there! The bad guys escape, but not before a tracking beacon gets put on their ship!

It's just so formulaic and by the numbers. Andor didn't have this, I didn't predict much about that. This was entirely predictable, like they read a book on story tropes and just put it all in there!

2) Sabine gets stabbed through the stomach by a lightsaber. And she's fine! Totally fine after what, a day in hospital? No lasting injuries, no death, barely an inconvenience. First Reva (a literal child) and now Sabine. Poor Qui-Gon must be very grumpy after all these others surviving being stabbed! Her internal organs should be cooked! She should be dead!

But nope, Lightsabers just aren't what they used to be. Yet all those soldiers at the start die instantly from being slashed across the chest or arm. They forgot their plot armour!

3) The typical "Estranged Master and Student" thing with Ahsoka and Sabine. So predictable, they seem to do this all the time. They waste a good portion of time with them arguing or speculating about whether it's worth reuniting again. And they resolve that after two episodes, which is at least brief by most arcs.

4) The fight choreography isn't great. Not as bad as the Sequel Trilogy, but not great either. Gone are the days of the beautiful prequel fights. There's a point where Ahsoka is fighting the "Not Inquisitor" and is in a lightsaber bind with him, but one of her sabers is behind his. So she just had to flick it, and he's decapitated. Same goes for Sabine fighting the Apprentice. Very, very stunted and plenty of exploitable moments from both fighters. Sabine being out of practice, I can understand. But the Apprentice was giving her plenty of openings and also ignoring Sabine's lack of experience too.

That's my basic summary, I'm happy to discuss more with people who want to 😊

5) The McGuffin device! Yet another star map which leads to the person everyone is looking for! Just like Luke Jake Skywalker! How did they even know that was where he went? He got sent there by Ezra and the magical Hyperspace Whales! Did the Ancient Nightsisters forsee it somehow? Or did they know that the Hyperspace Whales would go there? Is that their home?

Disney, please stop with the McGuffin devices! Please, come up with something original! 😭

[primroseyunho]

going to cook myself dinner idek if i can call it dinner since it’s almost 2am but oh weLL and then maybe I’ll put some silly little words into a silly little post for yall

[mistresspotterhead]

The American Ymbryne- Chap. 1

Alma Peregrine x fem!reader

Warnings: Yelling, slamming hands on a table, being outed (kind of)

Words: 1,900 on the dot

A/N: Wow, this took a lil bit. Alma doesn’t appear until the very end of this chapter, but she’ll be in the next one a lot. Everyone has been so kind, and that has helped a lot <3. Also: Miss Saker indicates the type of bird you are, not your given name. I hope you guys like this. 😊😊😊

Tags: @itsonlydana @evil-feather @merci-bitch @multimilfs @escapetodreamworld @gay-and-sad-tm @multifandomfix @romanottsmaximoff @n0thing-is-real-exe​ @theaudreymere 

(ask if you want to be added/removed)

In a strange way, Cairnholm reminded you of the Chicago loop you and your wards had just fled from. They were both very dreary, cold, and, from what you could tell from those on the ferry, the people would rather be anywhere else. 

“M-miss Saker? I’m cold.” The bundle of talking coats shivered next to you. 

“I know, Astrid. We’re almost there, though.” You sighed and looked out toward the slowly approaching coastline. Your surviving children, Elina, Alexander, Leonard, and, of course, Astrid, all huddled closer to you. You stared at Cairnholm for a while longer, until the ferryman’s voice suddenly called out.

“Alright everyone, ‘ere we are! The… lovely… Cairnholm!” He steered the small ferry over to the somehow smaller docks, and you led your children out.

“Is everyone here? Astrid, Leo, Elina, Alex?” David, Beth-Anne, Lisa, Frankie, June, Stefanie, Josef, Alice, Rosie, Reggie. You suppressed the urge to call out their names as well. 

“Yes, Miss Saker,” they called in long-suffering voices- you were very adamant about attendance. It was good to see something was normal.

“All right then. Leo, can you see where the loop is? And Alex, are there any other peculiars near?” Ah yes, your diviners. It was very lucky for all of you that they were two of those that survived the wight’s invasion of your loop. 

Your Chicago loop near the Art Institute was one of the last surviving loops in America maintained by an Ymbryne, along with your South Side, McKinley Park, and St. Louis loops, though the latter was run mainly by its older wards and reset once a week.

As of a fortnight ago, though, the Art Institute loop was the only one you had. McKinley Park was attacked by Wights and Hollows in December, with South Side following close in early January. Samuel, the sole survivor of McKinley Park, was what Syndrygasti call a Librarian. He could see hollows and alerted you to them when you were traveling to St. Louis for reset. The problem with this, though, was that Sammy was only five years old, and so frequently got distracted.

It wasn’t hard to understand- Illinois in 1975 was very colorful. Sammy was gone now, though, as were all most all of your children. Speaking of… 

“There aren’t any other peculiars on the island, Miss Saker- at least not in this time,” Alex said, startling you out of your thoughts.

“Thank you, dear. How are you faring, Leo? Have you located the loop? I don’t like being out in the open for this long.” For emphasis, Elina gave a giant, chattering shiver that was surely exaggerated.

“Indeed, but it is on the other side of the island, and the night is fast approaching.” 

You looked over and scowled at the sun; if you couldn’t get rest, then why was it allowed to?

“Well then. It looks like we’ll have to go into town.” Immediately, protests arose.

“Aw, no!”

“Come on, Miss Saker! We can make camp out here!”

“Because that sounds comfortable,” Leo deadpanned to Astrid.

“Well, it’s better than town! There probably isn’t even a hotel!”

“Actually, Astrid, that’s where you’re wrong.” Astrid looked shocked at the suggestion that she could ever be incorrect at something. “There is a hotel. It’s called the….” You took out the crumpled guidebook the ferryman had given to each tourist. “Preist Hole. What kind of hotel is called the Priest Hole?” You muttered that last part to yourself. “Anyway, off we go. Come along, single file now.”

Your ducklings dutifully arranged themselves from youngest to oldest, seven-year-old Elina closest to you and sixteen-year-old Leo at the back.

You hoped that the food was at least good.

Nope. Everything on the Preist Hole’s menu was covered with vinegar. You wondered if that was a Welsh thing or a Cairnholm thing. Maybe the owner just liked vinegar. Next to you, Elina was grimacing with every bite. On a whim, you decided to flag the bartender down.

“Hey, Kev, was it?” He grinned widely at you. You gave him a small smile in return.

“Yes, ma’am, that’s me. What can I do for you ‘n yer bunch today?” 

“I was just wondering if you had some fries- sorry, chips- with less vinegar. My youngest is still picky.”

“Hmm. Well, I’ll talk to Arnie ‘n see what he can whip up fer ye. He’s the cook, ye see.”

“Thank you so much, sir.” You attempted a bigger smile, but it still felt forced.

“Naw, it ain’t a problem, really. ‘N please, call me Kev. Sir sounds like I’m fifty- ‘n I’ve still got twenty years ‘fore that,” he chuckled.

“Well then, you must call me y/n.”

“Of course, ma’am- y/n, sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“It’s alright, Kev.” This time, your smile was a small bit genuine- his hesitancy was endearing.

“Yeh. Well, um, I’d better talk teh Arnie now. I’ve kinda been lingering here for a while.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want to keep you from work, anyway.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t object if yeh did,” Kev concluded, winking before walking away.

Once he was out of earshot, Astrid started chittering.

“Ooh, was that flirting I saw, Miss Saker?” You rolled your eyes, and Alex guffawed into his water.

“Miss Saker? Flirt with a guy? I think Elina would drink an entire bottle of vinegar before that happened.” You turned your head sharply in his direction, but not before Astrid snapped back at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You jerk your head toward her now.

“Well, Miss Saker isn’t really the type to, ah, dabble in the male gene pool.” It was like you were watching tennis, really, with all this head-turning.

“That doesn’t make any-”

“ENOUGH!” You stood up, placing your hands on the bar. “This is not a discussion we are having, especially not here and now. Alex, I told you that information in confidence, and I am severely disappointed that you have betrayed that. Astrid, whether or not I am flirting with someone, and really my love life in general, is none of your concern. Do you both understand?”

They nodded, Alex looking especially ashamed of himself.

“Sorry, Miss Saker. It just slipped out.”

You sighed and ignored all the stares you and your wards were getting because of your outburst. 

“Alright, Alex. Just… you can’t share things that people tell you privately.”

“Yes, Miss Saker.” He was quiet after that, poking at his food.

It bothered you that he had shared that information, though it didn’t seem as if the other wards had understood. Of course, Leo was the only one you would expect to, as he was sixteen, but he had been sheltered in your loop his entire life. All of your wards had, really.

Just as you were beginning to sink into your past again, Kev came out with Elina’s new plate of fr- chips.

“Here ye are, little lady. I hope you like these better.” He smiled at Elina, tugging a small one out in return. You both watched expectantly as she took a tentative bite. And another. And another. Until the plate was almost gone, and she was rubbing her stomach in contentment.

“Well, that was fast.”

“It was good, Miss Saker. I wasn’t going to let it cool.” You laughed at the disapproving look on her face.

“Alright, alright. I suppose you have a good point.” You turned to Kev. “Thank you again, sir, for-”

“Kev.”

“...right. Thank you for doing this. How much will it cost?” You were ruffled at his interruption, but he didn’t notice. He pretended to think for a moment.

“Hmm… how much will makin’ a little girl ‘n her mam happy cost? I dunno.” He smiled at you. “It’s on the house. I can see that ye haven’t had such a good day, so….”

“Really? Are you sure? I mean, I have the money….”

“I’m completely sure. It’s good te make someone happy once in a while.”

“Well, I truly do thank you. It also seems that we’ll need a room, if that’s alright?”

“Sure. Room four was just recently vacated. It’s right up here.” He led you up the stairs, the kids trailing behind.

The room was small for five people, but it seemed like a mansion to the children, who only had their old, overcrowded loop to compare it to. There were four rickety beds, though they did seem to be clean, and a barren nightstand next to each of them. 

“Ah… I forgot that this only had four beds. I can get ye another room, or-”

“No, no, this is fine. Thank you for your help, Kev.” You subtly ushered him toward the door.

“Oh- well, if ye need anythi-”

“Yes, of course. Ta, then! Have a nice day!” You shut the door, leaving him very confused.

Alex was wheezing on the floor behind you.

“That… that was absolutely amazing Miss Saker! You are an absolute icon!” 

What in Abaton does that mean? You never could understand the new slang terms that the 1970s held. 

Elina yawned, setting off all the other children and alerting you to their needs.

“Alright then, time for bed.” Immediately, they were completely awake.

“I’m not tired at all, Miss Saker, therefore I shan’t be able to fall asleep.” 

“The fact that your accent is coming out very strongly tells me that you are indeed tired, Leo.” You crossed your arms. “Bed. now.” Your wards slouched, and grudgingly picked out a bed each.

“Miss Saker, where will you sleep tonight?” Astrid asked as you were tucking her covers in.

“On the floor, of course. Now, did you remember to take off your gloves?”

“But it won’t be comfortable! The floor is so hard and cold and dirty and-”

“Your gloves, Astrid.” She was very talkative, even late at night, though you had come to enjoy it. Sometimes.

She took off the gloves that helped control her peculiarity and was about to start chattering again when Elina suddenly spoke up from her bed in the corner.

“I could make you a nest with a spare blanket, Miss Saker?” You gave her one of your very rare genuine smiles.

“That would be lovely, Elina.”

“Wait- how did she know you were going to sleep in bird form?” Alex asked, finally catching on. You smiled again at Elina and kissed her on the forehead.

“She’s made me a little nest before when I fall asleep in my study while in bird form.”

“And that happens often?”

“Surprisingly so. Now, snuggle in and no more talking.” As the children said their goodnights, you finally transformed into your bird form; a stunning saker falcon. You jumped lightly onto Elina’s bed, careful not to hurt her with your razor-sharp talons or accidentally hit her with your wing (which had happened on more than one occasion). 

Though you nestled into the warm bunch of blankets right away, you didn’t fall asleep until much later, and even then, you were restless all night. 

---

Little did you know, in the old manor that you would trek to the next day, a group of peculiars and one very curious ymbryne had observed all of this. Alma LeFay Peregrine set her watch and gave the children a reassuring smile while she pondered what this meant and why her stomach had fluttered when you gave that dazzling smile.

[painless-innit-colourful]

‘Get Comfy’ - Bench Trio Fluff

TommyInnit needs his best friend for comfort. Tubbo has a meeting. Ranboo comes to the rescue. (Set post-Tommy’s resurrection, pre-failed Dream assassination.)

“I’m trapped!” He cried out jokingly to Ranboo as he passed them to get to the ladder, and his husband laughed and continued on his way in response.

Of all the places in the world to be stuck, this was hardly even bad.

Tommy had appeared in the early hours of the morning on Tubbo’s doorstep in Snowchester, fingers blue and whole body shaking. Not only was he physically cold and vulnerable, but Tubbo could see the way his eyes darted about and the protective stance he held when he answered the door. He uttered: “Tommy? Are you alright?”, and that’s all it took for Tommy to collapse in on himself muttering and crying, and in turn that’s all it took for Tubbo’s best friend instinct to kick in. He brought Tommy inside, pressed him to change out of his wet clothes, made them both a hot chocolate, and then sat them on a window seat, where Tommy helpfully laid out the entire situation - bad nightmare last night, and he’d taken some damage on the way over - while they sat shoulder to shoulder, sipping on their drinks and watching a light snow fall fresh over the town. 

When Tommy finished his distressed retelling, Tubbo picked up the conversation, telling Tommy about inconsequential nothings like the stroganoff dinner they’d had the night before that went slightly awry, and Tommy added his own anecdotes about hairy cooking and whatever else along the way, getting calmer and more like himself the longer they sat. Eventually, Tubbo realised Tommy wasn’t chiming in anymore, and that’s because he had passed out on him, head lolled against his shoulder and nearly-empty mug slowly slipping from his hand. Tubbo took it and set it down softly, and then he put his head back and closed his eyes too, some part of him wishing he hadn’t slept so well last night.

He opened his eyes again as Ranboo reappeared from upstairs. "Is he asleep?" Tubbo asked him, to which Ranboo smirked. "I don't know, is he?" Tubbo pulled a face in response. "Yeah, he is." "So's Michael."

Tubbo looked back at the boy asleep on his shoulder and slipped an arm around him, shifting his weight to be leaning more on him. The rise and fall of his chest - like the waves in the fjord - reassured him that Tommy was back, not locked away somewhere Tubbo couldn't follow nor save him from. He'd had enough scares regarding that for one lifetime to make it anything but calming to watch his best friend's breathing as he slept, laying a hand beneath his collarbone and feeling the ‘thump, thump, thump’ of his heart. Stubbornly beating, still.

He could feel Ranboo’s presence over his shoulder before he spoke, “I didn’t think he could be this quiet.” “Pssh, don’t wake him.” They snickered together, Ranboo resting a hand on Tubbo’s free shoulder.

“Are you planning on staying there ‘till he wakes up?” Tubbo nodded slowly, and when Ranboo didn’t answer he turned his head to look at his husband, whose expression seemed an accurate depiction of a man who wished not to deliver some bad news. “What is it?” “You have that… town meeting at two. Which is in ten minutes.” “Shit.”

He’d completely forgotten about the Snowchester residents meeting he and Jack had called, somehow. They were searching for a missing nuke, and a relatively inconspicuous town meeting about security seemed the best way to open the discussion. Only, none of that would matter if he wasn’t there. Tommy seemed to grow heavier at his side, and regret curled around his heart. The chances of him being able to move Tommy alone without waking him were as slim as the chances of both of them making it to twenty. Not impossible, but not something to be trifled with. Unless…

“You okay?” He felt Ranboo squeeze his other shoulder, mild concern furrowing his brow. “Yeah, I just-” He indicated Tommy with a head tilt. “I’d rather not wake him.” He lifted his gaze, making eye contact with the taller boy and laying his free hand on his side. “I don’t suppose you could help?”

He watched as Ranboo’s brain caught up with the question, picking up Tubbo’s hand from his waist and swinging it back and forth a little absentmindedly. “Yeah, what is it?” Tubbo shuffled his legs a bit, hoping they hadn’t fallen asleep so he could get up. “Can you take him - actually, take my spot - without waking him?” By then, he’d positioned himself so his hands were under Tommy, holding up most of his body weight with one hand and an achy shoulder. Ranboo sprang into action instinctively (having a child will do that to you, he supposed), half-kneeling on the window seat behind Tubbo. “Yeah, yeah I can.” They conducted the change-over quietly, as Ranboo squeezed into the gap Tubbo left as the smaller boy propped up his friend against Ranboo’s side. There was a hold-your-breath moment as Tommy settled against Ranboo’s arm (and not his shoulder, because of the height difference), shook his head slightly in his sleep, and kept right on snoozing. Ranboo maneuvered his arm around Tommy, and then they breathed that long, sweet sigh of relief.

“Thank Prime.” “Thank Prime? Thank me, that was my expertise at work, excuse me.” Tubbo kissed him on the forehead lightly. “Thank you.” Then he scurried off to get his coat from across the room, and Ranboo realised his own predicament.

“Excuse me, Mr President-” “Militarist Commune!” “-Whatever. I appear to have been trapped.” Tubbo’s laugh was akin to a dog’s bark, and he quickly hopped across the room while pulling a boot on to the kitchen table, and then back to Ranboo and Tommy on the window seat. He put Ranboo’s phone, earphones and an apple into Ranboo’s hand, and then hop-stepped away again to find his other boot.

“What’s this?” “What do you mean ‘what’s this’?” Ranboo’s expression was pure bemusement as he looked over his stuff. “You didn’t have any plans for the next couple hours, did you?” After a beat, Ranboo replied with a simple “Nope.” Tubbo grinned mischievously. “Good. Get comfy.”

Ranboo looked down at the blonde boy currently curled up against his side, his breath wheezing slightly with every breath he took. “I- I don’t think he’ll react too kindly to- to waking up next to me.” Tubbo shrugged, his hand on the doorknob. “You have three canon lives.” His face split into a joyous smirk as Ranboo’s jaw dropped to the floor. “...Okay then.”

It took Tubbo a full ten seconds to recover his composure enough to speak again. “I’m joking. Mostly.” He pulled a perturbed expression for a second. “Don’t worry about it. He’ll probably make you swear to pretend it never happened. Or-” His eyes flicked down to the sleeping boy one more time, and he wrapped his arms around himself, like he was recalling the warmth. “Maybe he’ll surprise you. Bye!” And just like that he was gone. Ranboo watched him step lightly down the path, and relaxed. Prevent husband being late to his own security meeting: check.

Tommy shifted slightly at his side again, and he looked down at him as he attempted to untangle his earphones with one hand. In sleep, there was none of the shouting, or the weird guttural growling noise he made sometimes, or the insults Ranboo hoped were just friendly teasing. All of the tension had left him, and the lines around his brow from where he spent most of his time squinting or glowering were smoothed out. He looked so peaceful, so unlike Ranboo had ever seen him before. Tubbo’s presence had made him feel safe enough to calm down, to lower the shield and bring down the walls, and fall asleep with a mug of hot chocolate in hand. Their bond was incredible, really, to have survived wars and multiple canon deaths and a fight that was bigger than either of them, watched by the whole world. And Tommy trusted Tubbo to protect him, enough to pass out on him in the middle of the day.

The enderman-hybrid knew he could not compete with either side of their shared attachment, nor did he want to. But, he thought as he brushed a bit of lint away from one of Tommy’s eyes, if he could be even a little bit like that for Tubbo, he might find the family he’d craved as far back as he could remember. It wasn’t a memory, it was more like a feeling. Something that ran deeper than his conscious thoughts. A sixth sense, a raw instinct. To keep his family safe, however he must.

And if he could convince the strong-willed second-in-command as well? The more the merrier.

[quietmyfearswith]

girl at home ; andy barber x fem!reader ; 1/3

status — completed series

word count — 4,830 words

warnings — few swear words, a bit of defending jacobs spoilers, not compliant with book/show ending, fluff?? bit of angst???

pairing — andy barber x fem!reader

a/n — lmao i lied this comes first then in a few i’ll post the final part of public’s eye. if someone reads this pls tell me what youd be more interested in, august walker or steve rogers social media au

masterlist | series masterlist

After proving Jacob’s innocence Andy imagined things would have been smooth-sailing from there. He was wrong.

Laurie asked for a divorce; citing how their marriage was built on a lie and that it was time to be truthful to themselves and to Jacob. They both also agreed that it wasn’t just working anymore, but on Andy’s part he was more than willing to try harder for it to work, but didn't want to push it. He accepted her wishes and didn’t fight for full custody over Jacob — he was more than content with spending weekends and certain holidays with his son. They both moved out of their Newton house and revealed to Andy how they were both relocating to Bakersfield in California; the lawyer being partially surprised with how far they were moving, but ultimately remembered how she had some family members over there.

Before their departure, Andy and Jacob got to bond one last time and somehow their conversation shifted to how the former had no plans of selling the house and moving somewhere else. “Don’t you think you’d be too lonely?”

The blunt question did get Andy thinking but he shrugged it off, “Maybe? I just don’t see myself living anywhere else, I guess.”

Nodding, the boy looked out the window as the Audi drove by. His eyes scanned a big red sign that read “For Rent” and suddenly gave him the idea as he turned to his father, “Or you could put a room up for rent?”

Hitting the brakes smoothly as there was a red light, he turned to his son and looked at him with his eyebrows furrowed, “What?” 

“Green light,” Jacob informed and Andy nodded as he released his foot off the brake and continued the way home, “Advertise my room, or the spare one, for rent. That way, you know, you won’t really be alone.”

Pursing his lips together, Andy thought about it for a while. Would anyone even one to live there? With him? He didn’t want to seem like he was rejecting his son’s idea or make him feel like he was a fool for coming up with that one so he just found himself nodding, “Sounds like a great idea, pal.”

And when they were back at home, Jacob insisted he help his dad place an advertisement online for the availability of the spare bedroom across Jacob’s. Even though he thought it was a foolish idea, Andy just went along with it for two reasons — one, he just wanted to go along with what his son wanted and make him somewhat happy. And the second one being he was absolutely positive no one would want to live here.

It was a deal too good to be true; surely there had to be a catch? $500 a month for a room that was fully furnished? Maybe the house was just ugly? Or perhaps the room wasn’t really how it was pictured? Either way Y/N found herself messaging the house owner, Andy Barber, and let her know she was interested in checking the place out.

Pulling up in front of the house, Y/N let out a long whistle as she marveled at how the exterior of the house was well-groomed and clean. Exiting her car, she made her way to the front door and rang the doorbell and leaned by one of the columns as she took in the quiet ambiance of the neighborhood. Hearing the door creak upon, she turned around and smiled, “Hi! Are you Andy Barber?”

The bearded man was dressed in a simple ragged t-shirt and a pair of sweats; and despite the impression that he had just woken up, she thought that he had this cute boyish charm to him. “Yeah that’s me, you must be Y/N?” He offered his hand out for a shake, one which the girl enthusiastically shook. 

As they both unclasped their hands Y/N wondered, “Is it a bad time? I can come back later,” Her question had him chuckling and she felt her heart warm with how relaxed he looked as he shook his head, “It’s not a bad time, this is just how I normally look.”

He stepped aside so she could come in and take a tour of the house. As Y/N was being shown around the house, she could not prevent her jaw from dropping from how cozy, elegant, and complete everything looked.

“And if you choose to, this is where you’ll be staying,” Andy opened the room to the spare bedroom and led her inside and allowed her to take a look around. It had a bed, a dresser and wardrobe, mirror, a reading chair, and a study desk paired with an office chair.

Turning to the man, “So what’s the catch?” Her question caught him off guard and folded his arms as he tilted his head to the side, “The catch?”

She nodded and looked at him as if she had the telepathic abilities to let him know what she was thinking, “You know, the reason why the rent’s so cheap? Is this house haunted? Do you actually have a rat infestation problem?”

As Andy threw his head back laughing at her suggestions, he couldn’t remember the last time he was this carefree. “No catch,” he explained once he calmed down from laughing and sat down on the reading chair, “Not haunted or rat infestation, really. Just I don’t know,” he struggled to look for the right words as he placed his hands on his thighs and rubbed them, “Put a room up for rent just so I wouldn’t get lonely.”

Y/N leaned by the office desk that was beside the chair Andy was sitting on as she spoke, “Well I liked the place so much; I’m guessing that means you won’t have to be alone?”

Looking up at her Andy smiled, “That’s great then, let me get the spare house key for you.” 

“I hope I don’t seem too fast or what, but I hope you don’t mind if I move my things up already? I have all my belongings in the car.”

Andy nodded, “Oh no worries about it, let me help you get your stuff.”

For the next couple of hours, Y/N settled her things around the room. She placed her clothes on the dresser and wardrobe. Settled her pictures and other stationery items on the desk. Attaching the house keys to the keychain she had which contained her keys and skipped her way down the stairs. 

Seeing how Andy was by his office area she asked, “Oh by the way I forgot to ask, are you allergic to something?”

“Planning to kill me already huh?” He joked as he looked at her pointedly to which she rolled her eyes at, “No, dummy. I was planning on cooking dinner.”

“Nope, not allergic to anything,” he clarified and she smiled and waved goodbye. Looking at her retreating form, Andy shook his head as he took note of how silly his new roommate was. He buried himself with preparing his things for office as Y/N went around to explore her new neighborhood’s grocery store.

Dozing off in the bedroom, Andy woke up once a savory and aromatic smell hit his nostrils. Rubbing off the sleep in his eyes, he sat up and glanced at the clock on his bedside table and took note of how it was already 5:30 in the evening. Slept longer than I thought I would, he thought to himself as he left the comfort of his bedroom and headed to see the source of the fantastic smell.

Upon reaching the kitchen he was greeted with the sight of Y/N moving around the kitchen, “What’s all this commotion about?”

Stopping her movements from stirring the pot, she smiled, “Cooking dinner; made carbonara,” she pointed to the pot she was currently attending to, “Baked some garlic bread,” she pointed to the pyrex container which had a few loaves of bread in it, “And some chicken tenders as well, because I was craving.”

Nodding, he grabbed a chicken tender and took a bite of it to which she gasped, “Andy! Couldn’t even wait a few more minutes!” The taller man could only sheepishly smile with his mouth full of chicken, “Sorry ‘bout that, want me to set the table?”

“Please do. Oh and I noticed you had a certain beer in the fridge so I hope you don’t mind I bought you a pack?” As she mentioned that he did see a new, unopened pack next to the single beer he had left inside the fridge. “Thanks for that; red wine your poison?” He inquired since he noticed a wine bottle he surely never bought. Seeing her nod, he asked if she wanted a glass to which she said yes to. In the next few minutes a comfortable silence engulfed them as they both were focused on preparing their first meal together. 

Once everything was put in place they both sat across each other, Y/N placed her hands under her chin and looked at Andy with an excited look in her eyes, the man raised his brow at her, asking her nonverbally what she was looking at him for. “Go ahead, try it,” she softly encouraged him to which he nodded and swirled his fork around the pasta which the white sauce had already clung into and opened his mouth to taste.

“It’s good,” he complimented her as he swallowed, “Better than anything I’ve eaten in the past few months.” She clapped her hands and started to eat as well. “I was surprised to see your lack of groceries.”

He waited until his mouth was empty from eating the garlic bread she had before explaining, “Don’t really cook a lot; survived off takeout recently.” Despite having her mouth full with a tender, a loud shock was emitted from the woman across and Andy lightly cuckold at how adorable her reaction was. 

“Lucky for you, I love to cook so you won’t be filling yourself up with that junk,” she assured him as she drank from her glass of wine. Setting his fork down he looked at her skeptical, “What brings you to Newton anyway?”

Her hands tore the garlic bread as she gulped down her drink, “Just finished college then found a job here so there’s that.”

“Which program did you take?” He wondered; not knowing if it was his curiosity about someone living in his house or it was the lawyer in him couldn’t help but question everything.

“Took a few years off after high school to know what I really wanted to do; then just took a two year course,” she further explained as she told him which degree she chose. Somehow her answer just had Andy even more interested so he pried, “Why not get a full degree?”

She shrugged her shoulders, “Didn’t want to waste four years of my life.” 

“Would four years really be wasted if you spent it studying something you’re interested in?” he retorted back as he took a swig of his beer.

“Touché,” she acknowledged as she gobbled some pasta, “But I don’t know, I just feel like the time I’m spending on studying would be better spent if I was actually doing something I want. Get a job I wanna do. Visit every state in the country. Get a house with a pool. You know, just do things that make me happy without having any regrets”

As she listed off the things she desired in life, a solemn expression graced Andy’s face. Her perspective did make him think about how he lived his own life as well. Perhaps how there were certain choices that did make him happy and somehow there were regrets lingering in his mind. “And have you done any of those?”

“Well obviously I don’t have a house,” she joked as she waved her hand around Andy’s home, “But I did get a job here that I think I’ll enjoy, an 8-5 kind,” she paused for a while to gulp down more of the red wine she bought, “What about you?”

“What about me “ he questioned back as he looked at her with furrowed eyebrows. She rolled her eyes jokingly, “What’s your story, I guess? What brought you here in Newton?”

Her naivety had him questioning whether or not she knew the whole ordeal that his family went through; but he spared her of the full details, maybe next time or once he felt like he could fully trust her he’d tell her everything. “Had family here with me, but not anymore,” her eyes widened in shock with what he revealed but he was quick to reassure her, “I'm divorced now, ex-wife has full custody of our son. Used to be an assistant district attorney, now I’m just in private practice for civil litigation cases.”

Somehow, Andy felt a weight unload once he told her about him. Though granted it wasn’t the whole thing, but having someone to talk did make him feel lighter, more human. Y/N, on the other hand, felt amazed with how Andy chose to carry on despite what he’s been through. She got the feeling there was more to it than what he let on; and pity was not what she felt but more of feeling happy with how he did not give up and instead keep on going.

Holding her glass she raised it, “Here’s to new beginnings and being single then,” she toasted. Smiling, he raised his beer bottle and brought it to touch against her glass, “To new beginnings and being single.” The two then proceeded to finish the rest of their meal in silence.

The sun was shining bright that Monday morning and Andy woke up early to head down to their basement and do his morning exercise. Thirty minutes into it, he could sense that Y/N had woken up not only due to her footsteps he heard, but also because he could smell something delicious coming from the kitchen.

As he finished his workout, he headed up to his room to take a quick shower and dress up for his work. Granted it might have been too early to do all those but the smell of the food and the company of which he’d be eating breakfast enticed him to do so. Heading down, he was dressed in his full lawyer gear, minus the jacket, and smiled as he saw Y/N eating the rest of her pancakes by the breakfast bar.

“Morning Andy,” she greeted him, “There’s a fresh pot of coffee if you’d like,” she pointed to where she had just gotten a cup for herself as well. “Thank you,” he then moved to get himself a cup and once he did he took note of a plate that had a couple of pancakes, eggs, and bacon.

Pointing to it he accused her, “It’s as if you want me to waste the workout I just did huh.” She threw her head back in laughter at what he said while shaking his head to tell him that it wasn’t her intention. Glancing down on her wrist watch she mumbled a soft, “Shit,” upon noticing the time. Stacking her mug on the plate she moved to the sink where Andy grabbed the cutlery and utensils from her, “Let me do it and go ahead.”

Placing a hand on his forearm — in which they both felt relaxed and warm at their first touch — she thanked him for doing so and grabbed her bag that she placed on the couch. “Good luck on your first day,” Andy called out as he began munching on his own food. She yelled a quick thanks and see you as she closed the door behind her. Staring down on his plate, he smiled again upon seeing how the food in his plate resembled a smiley face; She really is something, he thought to himself.

The rest of the week flew by and both Andy and Y/N spent the week almost doing everything together. The former would wake up early and get his workout down; and sometime during the 45 minutes he’d spend on the basement the latter would take that time to prepare herself for the day ahead as well as the most important meal for their day. And if there were leftovers from the night before or that she had made too much for breakfast and was able to whip it into something for lunch, then she packed those not only for her, but for Andy as well.

And their routine together did not just stop there it bled into the night as well. Where it was always Y/N who came home first. After taking a bath either she’d start cooking supper or she would clean around the house a little — she noticed how Andy’s office area was frequently messy and she did her best to fix the mess without being too intrusive about it. She never step foot in his room, wanting him to have his privacy, but from what she could see he kept it organized despite having a few trash here and there, so she didn’t really loiter in that area of the house.

In hindsight, Y/N didn’t have to cook and clean for Andy. But with how low her rent was she felt that it was only fair to do so. Plus there was a part of her that somehow liked being around him, having someone to talk to about everything and anything they both could think of. There was never really a dull conversation between them.

Friday night arrived and instead of cooking another meal Y/N decided to get a pizza, wings, and another pack of beer for Andy. As she was in the liquor portion of the grocery she bumped into one of their neighbors, Joan RIfkin, whom she also recognized as one of the friends of her workmate.

“Y/N, right?” the woman asked as she looked at her with concern. “Yeah, that’s me. We met through Emily, when you helped her get to work,” Y/N recalled, both for her and Joan.

“Is it true that you live with Andy?” her question had Y/N wondering, how the hell did she know that? Despite that thought she nodded, “Room was cheap so I thought why not?”

Her nervous chuckle could not ease the tension between the two ladies; especially when Joan gave her a stern look as she warned her, “Be careful, okay? The Barber’s caused quite a ruckus and Andy is quite unpredictable.”

As Joan walked away while pushing her cart, Y/N was left confused and conflicted. The new information presented to her, though it was vague, left her puzzled about whether or not it was true. She was also unsure about the need to clarify with Andy what she has just been told.

Once his car was parked in the garage, Andy loosened his tie and entered the house. What greeted him was not the sight of Y/N cooking but her sitting on the couch while scrolling through her phone. Placed in the coffee table was a pizza box, his usual beer, a glass of wine, and box of chicken wings as well as a couple of paper plates.

“Didn’t feel like cooking today huh?” he jeered as he placed a hand on his hip, the other hand holding his briefcase for work. Diverting her eyes from her phone to the man in front she grinned at him, “No, but I felt like having pizza. Maybe we could watch a movie while eating?”

“Yeah sure, I’ll go change quickly,” he told her and she nodded. Andy then went up the stairs, taking two steps at a time to do so. Somehow there was this part of him that was incredibly excited at the thought of being physically close with Y/N. but he just shook his head at the thought and claimed that he was just excited to unwind the week’s stress with food, beer, and a movie.

Heading down after he dressed in more comfortable clothes he asked, “Alright, what are we watching?” Y/N shrugged as she moved to open the box of pizza, “Want a slice?” Andy nodded as he grabbed the remote and thanked her, “You heard about the hippie who burnt his mouth on the pizza?”

While holding a pizza slice of her own she looked at him and tilted her head to the side, her face being a combination of confusion and curiosity, one that Andy found charming. The bearded man had his face in faux seriousness as he continued, “He ate it before it was considered cool.”

Upon realizing the joke, Y/N let out a few giggles — real giggles, Any took note. “Okay not gonna lie, that was good,” she took a bite, “ Haven’t heard that one before.” Saying that made Andy feel proud, somehow his lame dad jokes made this brilliant woman laugh. “You wanna watch Ferris Bueller's Day Off?”

She nodded at his suggestion, “Yeah why not? Haven’t watched that in a while.” And so they both began to watch it as they ate and drank.

As they watched the film their occasional laughs were the only sound emitted from the two. As Andy was grabbing for a few slices or chicken wings, he found himself scooting closer beside Y/N, who didn’t really mind it and instead found having him close was comforting. The wartm that seeped past his clothed thigh and on to her bare skin as she was only wearing shorts made her feel safe. And somehow Andy’s arm found itself draped across the couch, almost touching Y/N’s shoulders, his fingers almost touching her. When she did move to drink her wine her skin touched the tips of his fingers rested on her shoulders and Andy who drank some of his beer as well looked alarmed.

“I’m sorry, I can move away if you’d like,” he said as he began to remove his hand from where it was comfortable in her shoulder. “No, it’s fine,” she assured him a little too quickly, “I mean, I don’t really mind. I’m not the type of person who hates hugging so I don’t really mind at all.”

She couldn’t prevent herself from physically cringing with what she said and how stupid it must have soounded like; but the man beside her didn’t think so based on his eyes crinkled in laughter. His arm then dropped from being on her shoulders and settled itself on her waist and pulled him as close as they could be sitting beside, “Well I hope you won’t mind if I do this then?”

She felt herself flutter with how smooth the man was and just silently assured him by placing her head against his shoulder, both turning their attention back to the movie.

As the end credits rolled, they both were full and were just now finishing up the last of the drinks. Y/N fiddled with her fingers as she had an internal debate about whether or not she should bring up her conversation with Joan earlier.

“You alright, Y/N?” Andy noticed how her actions might have indicated how she was nervous, a complete opposite to how she was earlier. Setting down his empty bottle on the coffee table, he turned to her and grasped both her hands in his, loving the feel of her soft hands against his calloused ones.

“It’s just, there’s something I need to ask,” she sighed and looked up at the ceiling as if it would have helped her say it better, “No, not really ask, but tell you. I don't know.” Her hesitation and uncertainty was something Andy easily sensed and he did his best to calm her down by rubbing their hands together and telling her she could tell him anything.

“So after work, I headed to the grocery to grab your beer, right? Then I saw Joan there, I don’t know her surname though. Anyway, she warned me to be careful of you because you’re unpredictable and that your family had caused a ruckus?” She ended her encounter with the woman by looking up at Andy, and the latter was surprised that there was no disgust in her tone and facial expressions; but more of worry? As if she was worried that rumors were spreading around about him and his family.

He stopped rubbing her hands and instead settled with fiddling with them, “I think it’s best if you found out now,” he began before taking a deep breath, “Almost two years ago, Ben Rifkin, a fourteen year old boy, died. At the time I was the assistant district attorney and was assigned to investigate. When fingerprints of my son, Jacob, were found in the body everyone assumed he did it.”

“Did he?” Y/N question when she noticed it took Andy sometime to continue with his story. Shaking his head no he picked up where he left off the story, “He didn’t, his fingerprints were there because he just saw the body, panicked and didn’t call the police. A man who had a record for groping and stalking kids did it. But Joan, Ben’s mom was still convinced that Jacob had something to do with her son’s death even after it was proved that he didn’t.”

“I’m sorry about that Andy, she has no right to name you and your family those things,” Y/N was quick to comfort him. But he only chuckled sadly, “Does she not?” She could feel that there was more Andy wanted to say so she remained silent, “During the trial and investigation, they were fully convinced Jacob did it because of me, of my father.”

He said those three words with so much hate and disdain, “My estranged father, rather, he raped and killed some student many years ago. Now he’s serving a life sentence for it. They claimed that I had this murder gene and somehow Jacob got it too, hence why he killed Ben.”

After hearing his explanation, Y/N now understood why Joan claimed Andy was unpredictable. She also empathize with the mother who lost her son and understood why she felt this indifference towards the Barbers; but she still believed that maybe Joan would someday accept that the what they’ve been believing — that Jacob had any involvement for her son’s death — is nothing but mere suspicion that was proved false.

“I mean, I understand why she holds this sort of grudge against you or your family,” Andy’s heart dropped at what Y/N said and loosened his grip on her hands, prepared to hear her say how she wanted to leave his house that somewhat felt like home ever since she came, “But it’ll take time for her to accept the truth and disregard the suspicion she had. I believe in what you say and do think that you are harmless.”

Her statement had Andy looking up from where he was staring at their hands and looked up at her with relief in his face, “What?” He could not help but sound meek as he asked so; but he felt the opposite, he felt empowered and invincible upon knowing that there was someone on his side for once.

Deciding to do something risky, Y/N leaned forward to plant a gentle and comforting kiss on Andy’s forehead, “What happened to Joan’s son was horrible, yes. But if you say, and an investigation says your son had nothing to do with it, then I believe it. And murder gene? The only thing that a gene can pass down to us is sickness,” she joked, hoping to lighten up the atmosphere and was pleased to see how Andy laughed softly at it,”You’re not what your father did, okay? The only way to define you is through what you say, think, and do.”

Andy smiled as he stared at her lovingly, “And if I think and tell you that you’re such a beautiful person, inside and out, and that it's been great having you here live with me?” She laughed as she rested her cheek against her hand and sassed at him, “I’d call bullshit ‘cause you probably used that line with your wife.”

He just rolled his eyes as he moved her around so she could comfortably lay her head against his chest as he wrapped his muscular arms around her frame. “Well then I’m just gonna have to do my best to prove it to you the entire time you’re here then.”

Turning her head so she could face him, “Well joke’s on you, I plan to be here for quite a long time.” The butterflies in Andy’s stomach then went wild at what she said, but his composure allowed him to answer back with, “I don’t mind that at all, honey.”

Laying a kiss on her forehead, he then teased her about the grin she had on her face and two then talked the rest of the night away.

part two

[bluebellwriting]

Love Me Tender Part 3

(Note: I know Molly hasn’t been confirmed as a demon nor is she in Hell, but for the sake of the story, I’m saying that she is a demon and she is in Hell. There’s not a lot of information on the spider fam so I’m going to be taking some liberties here)

Sunday dinners at your dad’s home have always a tradition, even when you all were alive. It wasn’t religious, Lord knows if it had been you probably wouldn’t have ended up here. But when your family spends every day of their lives and afterlives meeting with mob bosses, disposing of bodies, and doing drugs, it was nice to have a reason to come together and remind each other that you were all still here. It was because of those dinners and the evenings spent cooking with your Nonna that your love of cooking came to fruition.

Oh, your Nonna. You’ve tried looking for her down here, even though you know that there was no way she was deserving of a place like this. She was a saint, the mother you deserved instead of the mother you actually had. Your mother was cold, lazy, vain, couldn’t care for her children to save her life, judgmental -- she always insisted you try whatever insane weight loss trend was popular. Nonna was kind, understanding, taught you to be tough but also how to take care of those you loved, and never tried to pit you and your sister against each other. She’s honestly the only reason yours and Molly’s relationship survived.

But when she died, you took over as the family’s cook as the only person who could actually make something without burning it. Until you yourself died at the ripe age of 23, long before the rest of your family. Your family doesn’t talk about it much, but you can just imagine what the first dinner without you was like. How sad and empty, how burnt the food must have been if there even was any.

But you’re together again and your dinners were able to survive your family’s plunge into the afterlife. Apparently, so did your family home.

As soon as you entered the threshold of the home, you and Angel were smushed into a hug by Molly.

“My darlings!” She cries. Angel and you snuggle into the warm arms of your sister and wrap your arms around her.

“How are ya, Mol?” Angel asks.

“Oh, ya know, same old, same old.”

“Are those creeps giving you trouble at the store?” You take a step back and eye your sister up and down, looking for any physical manifestation that those creepy men crushing on your sister are up to no good.

“Not since you had a little chat with them, (N/N),” she teases.

Molly’s eyes brighten at the sight of your outfit.

“Ooh! You’re wearing the new skirt and blouse! It’s so pretty on you, (Y/N)! And I know I always say this but you have a great rack girl, ya gotta show it off like this more.”

You blush brightly and cross your arms over your torso.

“Gee thanks, Molly,” you mumble.

“I don’t know how you haven’t found a man yet with that bod!” She squeals and pinches your cheeks.

“Well, since ya mentioned it...” Angel smirks.

“Nope!” You shout and storm further into the house to avoid your baby siblings.

Molly looks back at Angel with an arched brow, the question looming in the air.

You make it to the kitchen, where your father and brother are heating up the food you left here last week. You turn your nose up.

“You know, I could have made something fresh. This is all a week old! And here I thought you were going to cook for once.”

“Very funny, (Y/N),” Niss grumbles, stirring the pasta sauce you had brought over last time.

“How are ya, sweetheart?” Henroin gives you a warm hug, one that is snug and warm and reserved for his unofficially favorite child.

“I’m good, dad. Doing just fine.”

“They’re running you ragged at that hotel.”

“Which means I’m left to pick up the slack,” Niss growls. You pull away from the hug and pull your brother into a forceful hug, just to make him uncomfortable. You were the same height as Niss and a year younger, and as grumpy and infuriating he can be, you always felt the closest to him. You’d like to think he felt the same, considering he scolds you the least. Or maybe that’s just because you’re way stronger than him and you have wrestled him to the ground.

“I know, but I’m doing this for Angel--”

“Anthony,” Niss hisses.

“If he tells me he wants to go by Angel, then I’m calling him Angel.” You narrow your eyes, your irises flashing a dangerous red and your teeth grow into vicious fangs in an instant. Niss rolls his eyes but backs down, trying to hide the shiver that went up his spine.

“I still don’t see how they’re supposed to help him.”

“Neither do I but I genuinely believe that that hotel is his only chance.”

“But why do you have to be there, too?” Your father asks.

“Because I’m the only one who knows how to handle him,” you beam.

“And because she’s dating the Radio Demon,” Molly squeals as she bursts in the kitchen, followed closely by a smirking Angel.

“What?!” Your brother and dad yell.

“I am not dating the Radio Demon, right, Angel?” You stalk over to him and stomp on his foot.

“Ah! Fine, fine. But she’s got him wrapped around her little finger, don’t ya, sis?”

“What the hell does that mean, (Y/N)?” Niss growls. Your father just stares at you, his eyes empty of all emotion but his shoulders are tensed.

“It means nothing. We work together and. That’s. It.” Everyone in the kitchen is staring at you. Angel is smirking, Molly is biting her lip as she holds in a squeal, Niss looks as though he’s about to punch a wall, and your dad is still staring at you. Their eyes are like deadly sunbeams and your body is a wilting flower. You wrap your arms around yourself, wishing the ground would just swallow you up and transport you to Second Hell, or whatever lies beyond this reality. A part of you finds yourself longing for arms to hold you, to wrap around you and shield you. Longing for grey arms in a red suit to protect you.

Oh jeez, maybe you do love him.

“The sauce is burning,” you break the silence and move towards the stove. “Is the pasta ready?”

“Yeah,” Henroin says and brings a bowl of noodles to the already set table. You turn the stove off and slip on two oven mitts to bring over the pot of sauce.

“Sit down,” you command. Your siblings scurry to their seats as your dad and you arrange everything on the table.

Once you’ve all sat and filled your plates (and taken away Angel’s phone), you turn to your dad.

“So what was the big announcement?” You ask.

Henroin swallows, “Not so much of an announcement, more of a request of you and Anth-- Angel. I know this hotel has been good for you,” he says to your brother. “And it sounds like it’s been... good for you too, (Y/N). But I need you to start pulling your weight around here, especially you, (Y/N).”

“Why me?” (Y/N) you ask, sending your father an incredulous look. “I thought I told you I wanted out of all of that nasty business.”

“Because some of our partners respond better to you. You have a way with people, in the way that is below my stature and beyond anything your brother can do.”

“Dad!” Niss yells, offended.

“Shut up. Now listen, (Y/N), you can still stay at the hotel, do whatever the hell it is you do there,” he gives you a pointed look, hinting that he hasn’t forgotten the Radio Demon business.

“But when I need you to attend a meeting or negotiation,” he continues. “I expect you to be there. You owe your family that.”

You look down at your barely-picked-at-plate, having suddenly lost your appetite.

“I’m guessing you have a meeting soon that you think I’d be well-suited for,” you mumble.

“There’s an Overlord we need to do some business with and I finally convinced her to have an audience. But word on the street is that she responds better to friends or women. And since we’re not friends and I’m definitely not sending Molly--”

“Daddy, you wound me!”

“--That leaves you, kid. We’re counting on you.”

You nod your head. The conversation continues, your siblings argue, Henroin gives you details for the meeting but you let it all wash over you like a wave. You actually thought you could finally start living for yourself for once, that you could stop taking care of others. You were wrong.

---

The city is alive with the sound of laughing and screaming, but all you can think about is the meeting tomorrow with Rosie, an Overlord and the owner of Rosie’s Emporium. Your eyes are heavy from the chaotic dinner, the three times you had to keep Niss from launching himself across the table at Angel, Molly talking your ear off about some cute man who would be perfect for you, and the new weight that has been added to your shoulders. It takes everything in you not to crash the car on your way home.

When you arrive back at the hotel it’s late at night and somehow Angel has boundless energy. He prances to the door, calling out about some party he’s been invited to by Cherri.

“Angel, it’s a Sunday night,” You scold.

“And? My work doesn’t exactly require me to be up and at em at 8, doll.” He bursts through the doors and immediately goes over to Husk and the bar, probably to pregame. You shuffle your way inside after him, rubbing your temples in an effort to tame the ache developing in your head.

“Oh, darling,” Alastor sings. He dances into the lobby from the kitchen, smile as wide as ever, holding two steaming mugs. Except instead of one of his pristine suits, he is dressed in slacks, suspenders, a shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a red apron. He looks completely and utterly adorable, and you’re just loving the view of his lithe forearms.

As soon as he heard Angel’s voice bothering Husk, Alastor came running to the lobby with the hot chocolate he had spent hours perfecting. His first batch was too bitter, the second far too sweet for anyone’s liking, and the third was accidentally consumed by Charlie (who is now hiding somewhere in the hotel to avoid his wrath). Plus, he had to endure Charlie’s relentless teasing. But he was certain this would be the perfect cup of liquid goodness to impress his sweetest darling. And judging by your tense shoulders and the stress in the lines of your face, you would definitely be needing something to lift your spirits.

“Goodness, did the dinner not go well?”

You released a deep, exhausted sigh, and lifted your head slowly to meet his eyes. For a moment, Alastor wonders if this might have been the wrong move. You were clearly worn out. You probably just wanted to shut yourself in your room and go to bed and not have anything to do with him and his boyish attempts to woo you. Hot chocolate, really? What was he thinking? Someone like you deserved something lavish, and you would probably scoff at something so simple as a hot drink.

His shoulders deflate at your lack of smile.

“It went about the same as it always did,” you sigh. “Siblings fighting, me saving dinner, my sister trying to set me up with some man.”

Alastor has to restrain the growl bubbling up in his chest.

Your eyes fall to the two mugs in his hands. You sniff the air and smile at the rich scent.

“Is that hot chocolate?”

“Oh... yes, it is.”

“Mm, is there any left?”

“Well of course! I made this cup especially for you, dearest!” He practically shoves the mug into your hands.

You quickly lift the mug to your lips and hope to all that is good and holy that he chalks your blushing cheeks to the heat of the drink.

“Oh, Alastor, this is wonderful. Thank you. I really needed this after the night I had.” You smile up at him, the lines in your face easing immediately. It’s enough to make the Radio Demon’s knees quake.

“You are absolutely welcome...” He pauses. The original plan was to woo you with the drink, whisk you off to a remote corner of the hotel, and attempt to confess his undying love to you. But the yawn you try to stifle almost causes him to deflate. Almost.

“Would like to talk about it, love? I’m all ears! U-Unless you’re too tired. You absolutely do not have to--”

Love. Love. You grip the mug tighter.

“Actually, Alastor, that would be lovely. If you don’t mind.”

Alastor grins.

“Not at all.”

He places a hand on the small of your back and transports you both to the library. He snaps his fingers and a fire lights up the room for you both. You flop onto the couch and Alastor takes a seat beside you, making a point to sidle up to you as you proceed to detail everything about your day.

At first you were rather restrained, convinced that the last thing this important, powerful, strong, kind, considerate, lovely man wanted was to listen to your problems. But as he asked more and more questions, he opened you up like an oyster, waiting patiently for the pearl inside.

“So now I’m meeting with this Rosie tomorrow. Something about transporting her goods across territories.”

“Rosie, you say?”

“Yes. Oh, do you know her?”

“Why yes! She’s an old and dear friend. But, um, quite ruthless towards strangers. You said you’re going alone?”

“Right.”

“Is that... normal? I mean, for you to go alone to meet such dangerous individuals.”

“Oh, yes. I’ve been doing so since I was 18 and alive.”

Alastor chokes on his drink.

“That young?”

“I grew up in the mafia, Al.” You send him a coy smile. “I’m not as defenseless as I look.”

“Oh, I never doubted that, dearest, but... to not have anyone there for support...”

“When you grow up the way I did, you learn not to trust anyone. Not fully at least, and definitely not until you know them well enough.”

“Is that right... Do... Do you trust me, then? Or have I not earned that honor?” Alastor smiles at you but within he is a mess. This is it. The moment you tell him that he’s far too dangerous, too vicious, too disgusting for you to ever let into your life in the way he craves.

“You’re on your way.” You smirk at him and the light floods back into his body. That’s a start.

“So, would you allow me to accompany you tomorrow then?”

“Oh, no, Alastor I could never impose on you like that--” He’s just being polite, you tell yourself. He doesn’t actually want to spend time with you outside of the hotel, isn’t actually concerned with whether you die at the hands of this Rosie.

“Nonsense, my darling.” He leans down, smelling the chocolate on your breath. His nose is so close to yours, your lips just as near to his. He could lean forward just a bit, feign a fall, just for one chance to kiss you like he’s dreamed.

“I would love nothing more than to be your knight in shining armor.”

You smile, “Just to be clear, if you are going to escort me, Alastor. I am no damsel in distress.” You boop his nose and giggle at the hot blush on his cheeks.

“But,” you continue, “I would love nothing more than to have your company tomorrow.”

“Well, then have it you shall, love.”

[speedypandaweasel]

One Big Adventure - a Wilford Warfstache and Abe story (Non-Ship) (2,914 Words)

Thank you for the request @canceltheact! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

If you would like to submit a request, see the information at the Masterlist and submit through the Q and A!

PSA - THIS IS NOT A SHIP oke, let us begin...

Dazed images fog up the minds of two *very* hungover men as they stagger their way up to the apartment. Abe fumbles his way through the door and over strewn clothes. He continues on and manages to put together the kaleidoscope of scenery that is right in front of him. To his left, a saggy sofa sits and a cheap TV dangerously hangs off the stripping wallpaper by a thread. To his right, a grimy kitchen is on display which even the worst chef in the world wouldn't waste his time in. The other man, however, is blabbering away, slurring his words like a car on an icy motorway. "HA!, I tell *hick* you Abe, I'm so glad I remembered you, you see *hick*, I can't even remember where I put my-" Aaaand he's gone. His body moulds into the cushions that poorly support his droopy frame, and his scuffed platform boots dangle over the side. Abe smiles, slightly soberer than before. Who would have thought that this stock still of a man, whose only aesthetics were the colour beige and veterans, would somehow have a goofy, lighter side to him? All the criminals he's met and caught among the years...

Hold up, has he met anyone? He can't remember any experiences where he HAS met any, so why did he think that? Hm, must be the Tequila talking. Abe hopscotches over the empty Wine and Martini bottles that are decorated across the stained carpet. Damm, William has not been taking care of himself. Mind you, neither has he so he can't really say anything. He arrives into the walk-in kitchen and opens a dusty cupboard. His tired eyes only meet with shot and tumbler glasses.

How much does this Man drink!? Shuffling used plates and greasy cutlery out of the way, he fills a scotch glass with water. Dowsing the liquid felt like heaven. His exhausted physique felt like a body that's been stuck in the desert for a considerable amount of time and didn't know it needed water to survive. Oh, now he feels the headache coming on.

Reader, you know when water tastes funny? It's because your brain hasn't been receiving enough H20 because you've been drinking too many energy drinks. Yeah, that feeling is exactly what Abe is feeling right now. CONTINUING ON!

The scotch glass watches from the draining board whilst the Detective plays the quietest game of the floor is lava, whilst the moustached man is making much more noise. He manages to reach a corridor which he thinks leads towards the bedroom and tiptoes down the tight hall to find a vacant room. On the way, he passes another room. It was Barnum's. His mind was split in two, Does he go in? Or stay out? Through the crack in the door, the catastrophe has indeed spread into his sleeping quarters. A mountain of flamboyant disco clothes gathers dust in front of his Chester draws, the bed's not made and more liquor bottles are having a social gathering on top. Oh William, you may be a murderer, but you need to prioritise yourself. He takes a last look at his passed out flatmate down the hallway, before shutting the guest bedroom door. Grey. It's all he's met with. Much like his exterior. He slips his shoes off and starts to unbutton his off-white shirt. he runs a hand down his chest and over the scar. How the Hell did he survive that? He can't be bothered to go into it right now, he's too tired. He snuggles into bed and does the infamous cold bed dance.

You know the one.

Abe gets out of the tempting bed once more and walks back into the living room. He creeps over to William, the man's mouth catching flies. He carefully takes his enormous shoes off and places them on the floor. Barnum's mismatch socks disappear underneath the blanket. "Night William."

~ A gorgeous smell of Breakfast wanders its way through the apartment and Abe groggily wakes up. His eyes peel open and with a yawn, he trudges through to the living room. Remembering from earlier this morning, he needed to position himself for his dance routine around the non-existent floor. "What are you doing my main man?" Barnum brightly asks, a hearty chuckle accompanies the question. Resided in the pristine kitchen, his big, strong hand holds a Skillet and two China plates are centred on the pebble grey marble island. Abe, however, is currently squatting as though he was playing a game of leapfrog with some imaginary friends. The Detective goes to jump but then is taken back at the sight. The apartment is now spick and span, no more Wine Bottles, no more strewn clothes. The windows are tied wide open and it overlooks the sketchy neighbourhood that they reside in. "How did you do this?" "Do what?" "You know, clean up this quickly?" Barnum checks his watch. It's 7:30 am "Oh well you see, I ironed a nice pair of jeans and found a lovely dandelion coloured shirt. Accompanied by some rainbow braces I think I look quite dashing don't you think so?" "No William, I-I mean the Apartm-AAH!" Abe clings his hand over his head, damm this- "Headache is killing you?" William slides a glass of water over with an Aspirin pill. "And no, I didn't clean the apartment, she did." Wilford looks- wait, why are you looking at me!? "Anywho, we need to get going my slightly hungover companion! But first, breakfast!" Wilford sets a serving plate down of a full English Breakfast: Sausage, an Egg, two cooked Tomatoes, Bacon rashes, Baked Beans and a slice of Buttered Toast. Wow. He didn't know William could cook? The two men got stuck in right away and the TV is turned on. Two bright and very similar faces appear on the screen "Badgers the secret Killer?... And now for the weather, Jim?"

The camera pans to, what they believe, is Jim. Their face resembles a deer in headlights. "I swear, they don't know what they're doing. It's hilarious!" The Detective says with a mouthful of Toast. Barnum laughs, wipes his mouth with a napkin and takes a swig of his Orange juice. "Right! I mean, who is their boss anyway?!" The men eat and laugh their way through their plates talking about what topics they would cover if they were reporters. After a while, they both recline back into their bar stools and the cook starts to tidy up the dirty dishes. "Oh, no, let me do it. It's the least I can do." "You're alright my man, I've got this. Besides, you need to freshen up!" "But whe-'" "First door on your left"

They share a light chuckle. "Thanks Wilford, I really appreciated that," Abe says before going back down the hallway, whilst Wilford rolls his sleeves up and starts to clean the less-silver cutlery.

He smiles. That's the first time he's ever said that to him. "No problem Abe."

~

The passenger door slams shut on the Detective's Vintage SUV and Wiford pulls out a gigantic map from his pocket. This map includes hundreds of paths scrawled with crayons and a hint of Martini can be smelt.

"Are you sure, you know where you're going?" Abe questions. Judging by what that map reads, they are going to get lost very easily.

"Of course I know where I'm going! I am Wilford Motherloving Warftsache after all." A pang of guilt hits the Detective, he genuinely can't remember who he was.

"Ok, Wil, you can drive."

After playing at least 3 rounds of rock paper scissors, or when Wilford won, Abe hesitantly let the murderer drive. God knows where though.

Wilford excitedly thrust the keys into the ignition. He couldn't wait for what the day entailed!

"Careful Willford, you're gonna break the keys!" Abe says through gritted teeth.

"Oh pah-lease! I know how to drive" he retaliates. His brown boot floors the pedal and reverses straight into the iron fence.

"Yep, it's working."

The Detectives face, now pale, grips tighter onto his seatbelt and his feet are glued to the floor. "Wil, of course it's working. Now, step on the ga- nope, that's the brakes Wilford."

Pedestrians quiver in fear as they see a horribly driven brown vehicle screech to a stop and then start again. They have to clamp down on their ears as the monster of a car drives past them down the alleyway, swerving left and right much like the driver's speech the other night.

The SUV survives to the end of the road and dents a stop sign perched, well once, straight on the kerb.

"Will, which route are we taking?" Abe asks as he takes the map from the driver's hands.

"It's the one marked Highway of Life, it's gonna be a good one, trust you me."

"Well, this has got off to a surprising start so why not go for an adventure?" Abe says. He's given up at this point.

~

"LIFE IS A HIIIGHHWWAYY! I WWAAANNNA RRIIDDEE IIT ALLL NIIGGHTT LOOOOONNGG!" The two pop stars start belting out of the car as Wilford drives them to their last stop. Who would have thought that two polar opposites positions of the law would be in the same car together, let alone blasting Disney songs out of the car.

Wilford's hair whips away from his face as the SUV's top winds down.

"LIFE NEEDS A BIT OF MADNESS EH ABE?"

"HELL YEAH IT DOES"

The Afternoon sun blazes down onto their blacked-out sunglasses and the Golden Gate bridge paints a picture for the Detective that prescribes him with a carefree attitude.

Life was his to choose and he was here for it.

~

The SUV turns off the Highway onto Richmond Street. The Afternoon sun glowing dimmer.

Just in time.

Now reader, if you haven't read my WKM Tumblr Song series, then you won't understand this next section.

The SUV passes bountiful shrubberies and picket fences. Cherry Blossom dust drift its way into the car and Wilford starts to tear up.

"You ok Buddy?"

"Yeah, I'm ok." After all his years of interrogation, Abe knows that that answer was a lie. Yet, he didn't want to push it.

The car comes to a halt and is parked underneath a summer coated oak tree.

"Why'd we stop?"

"I want to show you something."

Abe opens the vintage door and steps out. In front of him, wildflowers and grass sway on the cliffs breeze and small pink flowers grow on its edge. Overhead, a sea glistens with sunlight rays and pink and amber hues dust the sky.

Man, this is enough to make a grown man cry.

The cars driver door can be heard shutting and a shadow walks up behind him. An intimate silence roots itself between the two men.

"You may be wondering why I brought you here."

Abe nods, still looking forward, yet intriguingly listening.

The man sighs, "I used to come here all the time as a young lad. We used to have picnics and dance until dawn. We were so free up here. Away from life, away from Duty, and she was away from Him, that was all that mattered. "

His voice breaks.

"But things change, people change and suddenly, I couldn't do that anymore.

That's why I want you to see it."

Wilford wanders over to their spot and picks up one of the pink flowers sprouting through the grass.

"You may have thought of us as the scum of the Earth Detective. But there are two sides to every story."

The Detective joins the Murderer and puts a hand on his shoulder.

Wilford chuckles. The last time he was here, he was completely and utterly alone. He was like- like a freshly born fawn still trying to find his legs into this world that didn't make sense.

But now...but now things are looking a little brighter.

"If there is anything I can do to make it up to you, just name it."

"You can't do anything really, it's just the way this messed up world works."

The two friends sit down in the grass, making fresh new imprints into the cliff edge, next to two fading ones.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure" "How many people have I killed?"

...

That question lingers in the air for an uncomfortably long time. All that can be heard are the lapping of the waves below them and the occasional swallow talking in the trees.

...

"I don- don't know Wilford," Abe breaks the silence, "I should know, but I-I don't.

...

Abe looks at Wilford, his broken and tear-stained eyes manage to glance back before returning to look out at the sunset.

Abe must do something here. But what? He said himself that nothing can be done so what can he do?

He reminisces on the day they were reunited. So much anger, so much confusion. But Wil was so cheerful, not a care in the world!

Now look at him.

And it was all his fault. If only he didn't get involved...

A second flashes by and Abe does something he should have done the second Will did it.

He hugs Him.

...

"I'm sorry Will."

...

Moments cling on for seems like forever and the embrace is broken. The two tear-stained friends look up.

The afternoon sun has now gone beneath the horizon and is replaced with the all too familiar twilight scenery, which glows softly for miles and miles, each star a lantern that has been entrusted with keeping something special.

"There was another reason why I wanted to bring you here."

Wilford wipes his eyes with his sleeve. "Do you see that star, the big one?"

"Yeah" "That's the Evening Star. That Star is the reason why I have hope. And now I want to share that hope with you. I know we got off the wrong foot but since we're in the same boat now, I think it's time I opened up about where I've actually been."

Abe swallows, this man is truly broken, and he can't do anything about it.

"Thank you for trusting me." "We're not done yet. It's your turn!" "What?" "Make a wish." Cautiously, the Detective slowly stands up from his permanent grassy imprint and walks towards the cliff's edge. The man looks around and sees only patches of shrubbery and wildflowers.

And his newfound friend encouraging him to proceed.

He clasps his hands together and wishes hard. His eyes scrunch together as he becomes a child once more as well. His once tight shoulders have finally become relaxed. After so many years of searching for answers, he doesn't need to worry any more.

A single tear is swept away from the Murderers face as he watches on from the patch of grass. He remembers that feeling and the dream he wished for all those years ago. Yet now, his wish is slowly changing.

Granted, he can't remember who he was but bully does he know what he wants to be. And being here for him, at this very moment, is a wonderful way to start it.

Abe's hands fall to his side and he stares out onto the ever stretching view. His feet are glued to the spot and his mind is only fixated on that one goal. Wilford slowly joins his side, already having a hunch on what he dearly wants.

"What did you wish for?" The Murderer asks.

The Detective huckles, "Now if I told you, it wouldn't come true, would it?"

"Very true my friend."

Little did the men know that their newly found wishes were the same.

"Don't you mean, Best Friend?"

CRACK

The heartwarming moment is abruptly stopped by the sky blasting wide open and millions of sounds exploding across the cliff. The light breeze has rapidly sped up into a storm and is propelling thick gusts upon the two.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL NOW!?" Wilford yells at the hole, completely unfazed.

"YOU KNOW WHAT THIS IS!?" Abe yells at his Friend.

"OF COURSE I DO, IT'S TIME FOR WORK."

"WORK!? SINCE WHEN DO YOU HAVE A JOB!?"

"WE ALL HAVE A JOB - WE'RE ACTORS! I'LL EXPLAIN EVERYTHING IF WE DON'T GET SPLIT UP."

"IF WE DONT GET SPLIT UP!? WHERE ARE WE GOING!?" "I HAVE NO IDEA! BUT THAT'S THE FUN OF IT! AFTER THREE, WE WALK IN."

"ARE YOU CRAZY WE'RE GONNA FALL!"

"TRUST ME, WE WON'T."

Wilford grabs Abe's hand and he stares at him. Abe stares back, fear-stricken. Finally, he nods.

"TOGETHER?" "TOGETHER."

"ONE"

"TWO"

"THREE!!!!" The two Actors charge straight over the cliff and into the blinding light.

~

Wilford finds himself in some kind of leather chair with neon lights surrounding him. A script in one and his prop gun in his other.

No pants on, no wonder he feels too comfortable.

He scans his scene and sees his co-actor, Kathryn, running her lines on the other side of the room.

A chair sits opposite him and behind that, a red T-30 minutes until showtime sign is displayed for him.

Abe, however, isn't needed on set yet. His adventure hasn't begun.

But both of their characters will have to cross at one point or another, it's just a matter of time. Yet for a fact, no one can edit their Friendship; Their Joint Wish.

Because, as they say, Life is a road that you're travelling on, when there's one day here, and the next day gone.

[mybrothershands]

MBH/Dumpling 2

second installment, same art because otherwise you'll be waiting on it all day tomorrow. Characters by myself and @diddlesanddoodles and editing by @thundering-susurrus

The giant pinched up his face as if he smelled something bad. He then prodded the lump in his chest-pocket. "Get up, you lazy fool."

Several emotions crossed Yale face all at once, from anger to confusion to relief. Now that he knew where to look, Yale could see a distinctive lump in the man’s front pocket and heard the smaller voice emanating from within. Well, if he had a human companion of his own, that was a welcome relief. But he still kept his hand on Nenani. Grinning, he jerked his head to indicate the lump on Ka's shirt. “Ah, well I suppose that answers that. He yer assistant then?”

"Parasite, more like," he said, fishing around in his pocket until he caught the man by the shirt and pulled his shoulders over the lip of the pocket.

"Why you little two-ton son of a hog-bellied cob, I ought to--" The human smacked the hand away.

A nervous laugh escaped the giant, and he clasped his hand over the smaller man's mouth. "Er, this is my brother. He took care of me when I was small," said Ka.

Yale had been watching Ka fish around in his pocket and smirked at the human’s grouchy reply. The human’s snark immediately reminded him of Farris, but upon hearing Ka call him his brother, Yale gave pause. His curiosity was piqued.

“Wha –? Really? Can’t say I’ve ever heard ‘a that. That must be one hell of a story,” he said and jerked his head towards Ka. “Ye must’ve had a time of it keepin’ ‘im fed and clothed proper.”

The giant paused, then seemed to draw back within himself and looked away. Cairo, however, had no such loss for words. "Got that right. Ungrateful, too. You should see the spot in my side where he--" The massive hand clamped over his mouth again.

"I, erm," Ka cleared his throat, worry painted on his face. "I was old enough to work when he took me in. I cleared land for a human farmer in exchange for food. Cairo paid for my clothes and gave me a place to stay."

Polly then decided to use his leg as a scratching post and began rubbing her face up and down the side of his pants, leaning into him. "Woah, hey!" Ka said as he was knocked off balance. Once he found his feet, he pulled her bridle back over her ear and straightened her forelock. "But yes, I'm," he waved his hand in a circle, "I can work with humans just fine. They just need to let me know they're there and keep away from my feet."

“Ah, well no worries there,” Yale said with a light laugh as he pulled his apron aside to reveal Nenani at his hip. “You know better than to be underfoot, ain’t that right Dumplin’?”

Nenani nodded while she observed the new giant and silently marveled at his height. Despite the way in which he towered over them, he had a kind face, and she was not afraid.

“Farris doesn’t like it if I’m on the floor,” she explained. “He doesn’t trust the footmen to keep a look out.”

Ka's expression softened. She was a little thing, even for her kind, with auburn hair that shone in the sunlight. Somehow she met his gaze without fear, and it gave him pause. "H-hello there," he said quietly. "I am Ka. It's nice to meet you, miss."

It took the giant a moment to realize that the young man must have been hiding her, and why he had questioned him so. Come to think of it, he had not seen a single small person, nor chest pocket since he had entered this town. Pieces began to fall into place, and he decided he should not stay here for long. Not with Cairo. Absently, his hand found its way to his pocket.

“Hi. I’m Nenani,” she replied back, trying to look friendly. He looked so nervous, she thought. Yale easily scooped her up and sat her on his leg. After getting comfortable, she gestured up at the cook and said, “And he didn’t say so, but this is Yale.”

Looking confused, Yale looked down at her. “I didn’t introduce myself at all did I?”

“Nope,” she replied. “That was very rude. Lolly would swat you.”

“Ah, well,” he said, giving Ka and Cairo an apologetic shrug. “She wouldn’t be too pleased with me bringin’ the lil’un on this errand either. So there’s that.”

Cairo grumbled as Ka fawned over this little girl. She seemed unafraid and even kind towards his brother, which he respected. Still, he regarded Yale with a critical eye. Hooking his elbow over the frayed lip of the pocket, the human raised his voice. "What kind of kitchen is this anyway, boy? It's a bit late in the day to be fetchin stuff. What are you doing out here now?"

“Best kitchen in Vhasshal,” Yale fired back with a smug grin. He pointed over his shoulder towards the castle behind them. “That being the royal kitchen.”

“But Gjerk didn’t clean the chimney and it ruined the luncheon roasts,” Nenani supplied with a frankness that made light of the true disaster. “Almost caught the whole kitchen on fire.”

Yale frowned and, blushing just a bit, agreed with a muted nod. “Aye. Well, even the best kitchen in Vhasshal can fall victim to inattentive tenderfoots. So we’re needin’ to shuffle things ‘round a bit. Headin’ to a merchant who raises and sells field rocs.”

Ka's face became a smiling mask with a blank stare. Royal kitchen? Was this boy not worried that some stranger picked off the street could poison someone Important? Even the king himself? What if something went wrong and he was blamed for it and put in prison? Even he himself was not sure he deserved such trust, and yet kept his mouth shut in hopes that there was something he did not know.

Cairo, meanwhile, looked the man up and down, and then the girl in turn. They seemed easygoing and honest, if not a bit frank. At last he nodded. "We will accept your offer."

The giant balked. "Cairo, I'm not sure--"

"Shut up," he said, waving a hand. "Your belly's been a'growling all day, and I'll have no more of it. This is an easy job, and you're gonna take it," Cairo barked.

Ka paused, a hint of frustration on his face. Still, this was Cairo. The giant seemed to let go of his worries and nodded. "Just tell me what to do," he said, fixing Yale in his gaze, "and I'll help as much as I can."

He seemed eager enough, Yale thought. And even if his kitchen skills were minimal, so long as he could hold a knife, he could find something for him to do. Ka’s human companion was clearly the more dominant of the two, which Yale found to be quite amusing. And even a bit refreshing. He was so used to humans reacting to him with fear or at the very least nervous suspicion. Not that they did not have a valid reason of course.

He decided he liked Cairo.

“Well, first we gotta go collect them rocs and scurry on back,” Yale said with a grin. “So if we just wanna follow along we’ll go get that done and we can get ye to work.” He paused as he considered Ka. “And get ye somethin’ t’eat. Farris might gripe at me fer it, but believe me. He’s gonna be thankful fer yer help. Even he don’t show it. Or say it. Or yells at ye.”

Yale flicked the reins to usher Polly forward, bringing a hand up to hold onto Nenani when she almost fell off his lap.

“Ah!”

“Oh, sorry there, Dumplin’.”

"Oh," said Ka as he backed away and let the animal slip past until he could walk beside the cab. This Farris fellow seemed a bit crotchety. "Thank you," he said above the creaking wheels. The mention of food set his mouth to watering. They had had so many good things down at the market, maybe now he could get his hands on something. "I can pay you, but I'm afraid my coin may just be trinkets to you."

From his pocket, Cairo squinted one eye, adjusting his position to better watch the small giant. "Why you call her 'dumpling,' anyhow?"

“It was a joke,” Nenani explained with a flat look. “Wasn’t a very funny one.”

“I dunno, I thought it was a pretty good one,” Yale replied with a knowing grin. He poked her belly and the girl squealed and laughed, batting at his fingers. She lost her balance and almost fell back off his lap, but Yale was quick enough to catch her and place her safely down on the bench beside him. He ruffled her hair into a bushy mess. “Anyway, I caught this one here after she’d nicked some fruit. And right in the middle of the King’s weddin’ feast too. Don’t think I’ve ever been that stressed in my life.”

“He threatened to eat me...” Nenani said with the same flat expression.

As lovely as he found the girl's laugh, Ka's smile quickly faded as the girl voiced the joke. He made a sound half way between a choke and a quack. "Hmm?"

Cairo looked more surprised at the noise his brother made than Nenani's admittance. "Oh he did, did he?" He sat up, eyeing Yale. "He looks like a pansy to me."

Yale could not help the smirk of satisfaction at seeing the way Ka reacted. But his focus drew to the man’s pocket and the human within. Leaning towards them and planting his hand on the other side of where Nenani sat, he grinned at the human man.

“Big words fer a fella who travels by pocket,” he challenged. “Why not come on outta there and I’ll show ye how much of a pansy I am.”

Nenani glared up at Yale and grabbed onto his sleeve and gave it a firm tug. “No fighting.”

Cairo merely laughed at the girl's reaction. "I ain't stupid. Think I'll stay in the pocket, eh?" He slapped Ka's chest.

The giant rolled his eyes. He kept pace with the cart fairly easily, even as the Svaldifari trotted. He cleared his throat. "Keep acting like that and I may just let him have you."

"What!" he exclaimed, clutching a hand over his heart. "He might skin me, don't you think? You brute, you should protect your poor old brother."

Ka sighed, plodding along. "You can take care of yourself just fine."

“Smart man, your brother,” Yale said to Ka. “With him taggin’ along, ye might just survive a day in Farris’s kitchen.”

There was something very comforting about watching Cairo and Ka banter. It was all too easy for Yale to be drawn back to the horrible memories of the war and the way it seemed to him at the time that the bloodletting would never cease. Yet before him was a man who openly and easily called a human his brother.

“As fer skinnin’: nah. Too much of a hassle. Much easier to just toss ye into the stew and pop the lid on.”

Beside him, Nenani rolled her eyes. She had become nearly desensitized to all staff’s banter about eating and cooking people. Cairo didn’t seem like the sort to take Yale seriously. But Ka, she observed, seemed to not care for the jokes at all.

Ka lolled his head back, exasperated, then clamped his hand back over Cairo's mouth. "Ne- Nena-nani, er..." he chewed on his tongue for a moment, still trying to decide how many syllables the girl's name had. "Nenani," he said decisively. "He... Yale. He said he found you stealing?" said the giant, desperate to change the subject.

There were a few shoves and knocks on his hand before there at last came a double-tap and Cairo's mouth was freed. However, he kept his mouth shut for once and watched the road ahead. The mare seemed to need a bit of guiding, unused to going this way, but Yale was not quite paying attention. He peered ahead. Was this the way they had come before? Where was the market?

“Oh. Yeah,” she replied as she fiddled with the hem of her skirt in slight embarrassment. “But it’s not like what Farris and they all thought at first. I’m not from the Hill Tribe, I’m from the Southlands. They were loading a bunch of carts near the docks and I tried to sneak in and grab a persimmon before anyone noticed, but the basket was really big and I just...kind of fell in. And got stuck.”

Yale stifled a snicker as he corrected Polly’s path. She whinnied at him in annoyance. “I remember all them peels, lil’un. It was certainly more than one.”

“I was in there for three days,” she said and stuck her tongue out at Yale. “What else was I gonna eat? The basket?” When Yale only shrugged at her, she continued. “I grew up being told stories about Vhasshal and I was really scared. So as soon as the caravan stopped, I tried to run.”

“Caught her tryin’ to make a run fer it,” Yale added lightly pinching her arm. “Didn’t get all that far. Like...a half a dozen yards maybe before I got ‘er.”

Ka frowned. He did not like the way that last bit sounded. He steered away as they passed another cart on the road. He wanted to ask the stories about Vhasshal, and why she had been so frightened, but the girl had not seemed a bit embarrassed about that point in her past. Come to think of it, maybe he did not want to know. "Persimmons... have peels?"

The edge of the village was approaching, and Yale could hear the sound of the rocs long before their pens came into view. Their destination was a handsome little cottage just at the end of the tight clusters of row homes. Though was an older building and had but a thatched roof, it was well maintained and clean. Behind it were the roc pens. There were a dozen or so of the birds loose in the larger space, and Yale felt relieved. He was only going to need ten for the luncheon service, and he’d be able to get a few extra just in case anything else went horribly wrong today.

“Well, I think they’re actually husks,” she was saying. “They’re from overseas somewhere. But you’re not supposed to eat the outsides because it’ll make you sick.”

“Ye did get sick though. Just not from eatin’ fruit,” Yale pointed out. His eyes trailed after the other cart as they passed, having seen the way they had been gawking at Ka. Poor guy must get that a lot.

“Yeah, I had the red reap,” Nenani said. “It was terrible. But Farris took care of me and gave me medicine and watched me all night while I had the fever.”

Ka blinked, trying to make sense of this new information. He had no idea what red reap was, but then again, he was not familiar with most diseases. "It sounds terrible," he said, worry on his brow. The way she had explained it, it sounded deadly. He could not imagine having to care for someone through the night, not knowing if the little thing would make it.

Though he had not yet met the man, Ka found himself reconsidering this Farris guy. If he was the type to yell at someone new, it seemed a bit backwards that he would worry over a thief. He shook the thought away. He had not met him yet. Maybe he would understand later.

It was then he heard some bird-like squabbling, and looked up to find a pen with some frighteningly large feathery beasts. "What... are those?" He felt a bit stupid for asking, but then again, nothing was familiar to him here. Nothing at all.

"What, you never seen a chicken before?" Cairo butted in.

“Oh them ain’t no chickens,” Yale answered, giving Cairo an amused sideways glance. “Those are common field rocs. Those beauties eat chickens fer breakfast. Literally. They’re birds of prey. And they’re what we’re here fer.”

Yale maneuvered the cart towards the pens and when they were close enough, he pulled the reins lightly and Polly came to a gentle halt. She turned to her head back at Yale, expectation in her eyes. With a chuckle, he reached into his apron pocket and pulled out a pressed oat cake. Turning to Ka, he held out the treat. “Wanna give Polly her reward while I go spend the king's money?”

A grin spread across Ka’s face, and he chuckled. "Seems she's in good hands," he said, gently taking the biscuit from him.

~~~

Twelve common field rocs were in the back of the cart, their wings tied down to their sides and hemp sacks placed over their heads to keep them docile. Nenani hung off the back of the driver’s bench, looking down at the immobilized birds. They were as large as cows, and it was a little daunting to think that there were birds that big in the world.

The trip back was fairly uneventful, except that news of Ka seemed to have made its way around the village, They seemed to be getting more stares than before, but Yale made a point of staring down whatever gawkers he noticed. But he did not have the same presence as Farris did, and mostly, the people just kept on staring.

Nenani found it to be pretty rude, and to several she stuck out her tongue.

As they approached the back gate that led to the kitchen courtyard, the guards stationed there did double takes as Ka came into view, but Yale was quick to head off any questions. “He’s here to help out for the day. If you have a problem with that, take it up with Farris.”

There was enough of a threat in those words that they were allowed to pass without any form of harassment.

“Don’t let those guards make ye nervous none, lad,” Yale said to Ka. “Most of ‘em are real decent fellas.”

Yale was still looking towards Ka as he directed Polly along the road, around the last bend, and into the courtyard. He pulled the reins and was about to say something else when felt a tug on his sleeve and he looked down at Nenani. “Hm? What’s it?”

Nenani merely pointed further ahead of them and Yale’s gaze followed along. A large fire pit had been lit in the middle of the yard, and the largest of their cooking pans was placed over the top, with a sizable pile of pumpkins next to it. Saen and Avery were in the middle of carving a few up but had made little headway.

But what had caught their eye was none of them, but the solitary figure just a short distance away. Standing with his arms akimbo and looking very displeased was Farris. His green eyes narrowed at Yale.

“Yer fuckin’ late.”

Ever since the border guards, Ka had gotten increasingly fidgety. As soon as Yale quieted down, he slowed up and walked behind the cart. The castle ahead was bigger than any he had seen, especially this close up. He ran his hand up and down his sleeve, trying to create some warmth as his breath crystallized before him. Upon hearing the voice, the giant's first impression was how gravelly and frayed it sounded, possibly from overuse. The second was that it did not sound happy.

"What's it to you?" Cairo muttered under his breath. It was more of a knee-jerk reaction, than anything, but it was enough to remind Ka to keep an eye on him. The human's left arm and legs lolled out of the pocket. He picked at his teeth as the giant walked. "Move over, Ka, I want to get a look at this meathead."

Ka merely shook his head, hand straying up to cover the man. "Be careful here. We don't know for sure if it's safe yet." There came a grumbling and a shove at the fingers, but for the most part he kept his mouth shut.

Before Yale could even begin to explain himself, Farris caught sight of Ka, and the kitchen master’s eyes widened as his gaze traveled up and up and up until he met the taller giant’s eye. “And just who in the Seven Hells are ye?”

Ever since the border guards, Ka had gotten increasingly fidgety. As soon as Yale quieted down, he slowed up and walked behind the cart. The castle ahead was bigger than any he had seen, especially this close up. He ran his hand up and down his sleeve, trying to create some warmth as his breath crystallized before him. Upon hearing the voice, the giant's first impression was how gravelly and frayed it sounded, possibly from overuse. The second was that it did not sound happy.

"What's it to you?" Cairo muttered under his breath. It was more of a knee-jerk reaction, than anything, but it was enough to remind Ka to keep an eye on him. The human's left arm and legs lolled out of the pocket. He picked at his teeth as the giant walked. "Move over, Ka, I want to get a look at this meathead."

Ka merely shook his head, hand straying up to cover the man. "Be careful here. We don't know for sure if it's safe yet." There came a grumbling and a shove at the fingers, but for the most part he kept his mouth shut.

Before Yale could even begin to explain himself, Farris caught sight of Ka, and the kitchen master’s eyes widened as his gaze traveled up and up and up until he met the taller giant’s eye. “And just who in the Seven Hells are ye?”

Before Ka could answer, though, Yale jumped in. “Came across him on the way to get the rocs. He was lookin’ fer some work, and I offered to let him help us today.”

All through Yale’s explanations, Farris sized Ka up with a critical eye, pausing at the distinct bulge in the tall man’s pocket. His eyes narrowed suspiciously before turning their vitriol onto his assistant. 

“Oh ye did, did ye?” he demanded. “Are ye fuckin’ daft boy?”

Yale hopped down off the cart. “We need the extra help, and as mad as ye are, ye can’t deny the big fella could be of some help. Hell, he’d make short work breakin’ down the pumpkins.” Yale leaned around Farris to yell past him towards his fellow cooks. “A whole lot faster than them two knobheads!”

Saen and Avery looked up from their work to glare back at Yale. Avery waved his knife in the air, calling back, “Go fuck yerself, Yale.” 

Yale was still grinning when Farris drew his attention back with a growl. “And ye think I’d let just anyone off the street come in and cook in my kitchen, do ye?”

Yale glanced over his shoulder at Ka and then back to Farris. With a shrug, he said, “Honestly boss, I don’t think he’d fit. Be a bit tight.”

Farris’s ever-present glare faltered as an amused smirk crossed his lips. With a grunt he looked back at Ka. “Ye have any experience in a kitchen there, son?”

The giant clutched his fists against his chest, shoulders hunched and brow scrunched with worry. Though the man was half his height, he scared Ka. He looked like someone who knew how to fight and just might if aggravated.

"Y-yessir, just a bit, sir." Ka stuttered, coming out from behind the wagon. "Look, I promise I mean no harm, sir. I just, well I- I- I was looking for some work is all. He was nice enough to give me a chance. I promise I'll do my best if you'll only let me help."

Farris was silent for several moments, eyeing Ka once more. “Where ye from?”

The giant straightened up a bit, a slight hope welling in his chest. "Benhyke, sir. I'm... trying to find my way back there, actually."

“Never heard of it. So ye mean to tell me yer as tall as a fuckin’ house with no proper sense of direction?” The kitchen master didn’t give Ka a chance to answer before walking over to the cart where Nenani sat. He laid his arm across the drivers bench and looked at the girl. “What say ye Dumplin’? Think he’s some sort of secret assassin tryin’ to worm his way into the castle?”

Nenani blinked and shook her head. “No.” 

“Well, if yer so sure,” he said with a small smile and scooped her up. Tucking her into the crook of his arm, he turned back to Ka.  The warmth he had spoken to Nenani with was gone and the harsher tone returned. “Ye got a name?”

He scratched his head, still harboring the initial insult in his mind, and had not quite heard him speak to the girl. "What? O-oh I am Ka. And this is--" he paused. At first caution took over, but once he saw the way he cared for Nenani, the fear melted. "--Cairo," he finished.

Upon hearing his name, a single hand came out of the pocket and gave a dramatic wave. "Evening to you, you motherless goat," he called, then the hand disappeared again.

Farris’s expression darkened and, behind him, Yale was making a frantic motion with his hands at Ka that translated roughly to “Bad idea. Stop.”

“I’ll give ye fair warning now, boy,” Farris warned as he walked towards Ka. Pressing further into his space, he stared up at the taller giant and pointed towards his pocket. “Keep that one’s mouth under control or I’ll be doin’ it fer ‘im. I’ve had plenty of humans toss out insults at me and, one way or another, they learn not to. If ye wanna work, I’ve got work fer ye. And you’ll be paid fair wages fer it. But if that one skulking in yer pocket don’t watch it, he’s gonna become intimately acquainted with the inside of a roasting pan.”

Ka's face paled and he backed away, clutching one hand to his pocket. "No! No, please, he's my brother. Y-you can't--I won't..." He seemed to get ahold of himself then, squared his shoulders. "Take that back," he said, regaining his ground. If it were not for the girl in his arms, Ka was not sure what he might have done.

Farris did not back away, and his only movement was to use his free hand to cover Nenani as though to shield her. He met Ka’s eyes with a firm unwavering stare. “I don’t take it back. This is my kitchen and my word is law.” Farris let a small smirk come to his lips. “Just keep in mind though, I didn’t say nothing about actually cookin’ ‘im.”

The giant blinked, relaxing a bit. "What?"

At this point, Cairo heaved a dramatic sigh and pulled himself up. He looked the man up and down and came to a conclusion. "Ugly lump."

Nenani poked her head out from behind Farris’s hand. “No fighting.” 

At Nenani's word, Ka took a step back. There was still anger in his blood, and he elected to stay on his toes, but any hostility was snuffed out by the girl's voice.

Farris only adjusted his hand to ruffle her hair.  “Well ye ain’t no Blue Thorn Beauty yerself,” Farris shot back at Cairo, then raised an eyebrow at him. “Ain’t ye a bit old fer being carried ‘round like a babe?”

Cairo raised a brow, then patted the chest behind him. "This one here's the baby when it comes down to it, little man. Now--" He cut himself off as if he had heard something. "Alright already," he grumbled at apparently nothing. "What do I have to do to get your sorry bag of bones to do something decent, eh? This boy's half starved."

"Cairo..." Ka hissed through his teeth. "I haven't done the work yet."

Farris huffed and rolled his eyes. “Yale,” he called without taking his eyes from the pair. “Go grab this one one ‘a the leftover meat pies.” He paused, reconsidering the man and his height. “Make that two.”

“Will do, boss,” Yale replied, flashing Ka a wide grin before running off towards the stairway that led into the kitchen proper. 

“I don’t run a charity here,” Farris told him sternly. “But if yer gonna be any use to me at all today, it wont be with an empty belly. Ye’ll eat and then ye’ll work. Understand?”

"No," Cairo said blatantly before Ka had a chance.

[army-of-mai-lovers]

Flamey-O

fic request from @shrinkthisviolet: Aang-centric fic with the prompt “Rough day? Can I make it better?” 

(Lavi I love and appreciate you and I hope you’re okay with me using my Flamey-O Noodles hc as a springboard for this fic but if you’re not just say the word and I’ll write you something different) 

fic under the cut!

Aang was sulking in their room when Katara walked in. 

“Rough day?” she asked. Aang nodded, and she sat down beside him. “Can I make it better?” 

“Can you make ‘flameo hotman’ accepted modern Fire Nation slang?” Aang muttered. 

Katara frowned. “I’m sorry, what?” 

Aang pouted. “Okay, so Zuko invited me to go to that meeting with the Fire Nation council, right? Well, when I got there, I introduced myself and said ‘flameo, hotmen!’ And they all just stared at me like I’d grown a second head.”

Katara rubbed his shoulders. “So you’re upset because ‘flameo, hotman’ isn’t catching on?” 

“It’s real Fire Nation slang!” Aang insisted. “Or at least it was, a hundred and twenty years ago. I don’t know why it fell out of fashion.” 

Katara shrugged. “It’s been a long time, Aang. Sometimes things die out.” 

Aang stared at her with wide eyes. “Do you think...” He took a deep breath. “Do you think maybe things that die out can come back?” 

Katara wasn’t entirely sure what the real question was, never mind what the actual right answer to it could be. But she nodded. “If it’s meant to come back, it will.” She squeezed his hand. “We thought the Avatar was gone forever, and then we found you.” 

Aang smiled and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Katara. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said, smiling back. 

___________________________________________________________________

That night, Aang lay awake, thinking about the past. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for him; the first few weeks traveling with Sokka and Katara, he’d barely slept, thinking about how everything and everyone he knew was gone, and he was alone in a world that didn’t understand him. But he wasn’t alone, and he never had been. Sokka and Katara had made sure of that, and then Suki, and then Toph, and Zuko. 

Zuko. 

Flameo. 

He remembered it clear as day. The monks had just told him that he was the Avatar, and they wanted him to train in etiquette so that he could meet with dignitaries from other nations. Aang didn’t really understand what more he needed to learn, considering he had friends from all over the world, but the monks had insisted. So there he was, reciting from an etiquette book while Monk Gyatso made a pot of Aang’s favorite noodles. 

“A popular informal greeting among Fire Nation citizens is ‘flameo, hotman.’“ Aang giggled. “That one’s good. I’ve got to use that on Kuzon next time I see him.” 

Monk Gyatso scooped up the noodles and vegetables and put half a hard-boiled egg on top of Aang’s plate, with the other half on top of his own. “I like that one too,” he said, handing Aang his noodles. “I had an old friend, when I was just about your age, who really enjoyed that greeting.” 

“Were they Fire Nation?” Aang asked, his mouth full of noodles and vegetables. 

“Eat slower, Aang. Savor your food. And yes, he was Fire Nation” Gyatso said, a little sadly. “He came to stay with us for a while, and we became great friends.” 

Aang shoveled more of Gyatso’s noodles in his mouth. Spirits, this is so good. “Gyatso,” Aang asked. “When we’re done with the lesson, can you teach me how to make noodles?” 

Gyatso laughed. “Not exactly the most necessary skill for a young Avatar.” 

“Well, what if the Earth King wants a good meal? I want to have something to make for him,” he said. “Come on, please? I’ll be good, I promise.” 

Gyatso looked at Aang fondly. “You already are good, Aang. You always have been.” He rubbed Aang’s head affectionately. “i think you know quite enough about how to talk to foreign dignitaries. Come on, let’s make some noodles.” 

So Gyatso took Aang through the steps of making the noodles: making a well in the flour to put the eggs and water in, mixing it with his hands, kneading them, rolling them out, slicing them. Gyatso cut up some more vegetables while Aang was slicing the noodles, and they put all the ingredients in a pot to boil for a couple minutes. When it was done, Gyatso gave them each second and third helpings. 

“Flameo, hotman,” Gyatso said slyly. 

Aang grinned. “Flameo.” 

Katara snored beside him, snapping him out of his memory. The moon hung high in the sky, and Aang could practically feel Yue scolding him, telling him it was long past time to go to bed. He turned on his side, trying to clear his mind. And then he turned again, and again. But nothing worked. 

Finally, he sat up. He wanted noodles. 

It had been over a century since that day, but Aang still remembered. His technique was a little clumsier than Gyatso’s had been, but it was a simple recipe nonetheless. He hummed as he chopped up his vegetables and sliced the dough into noodles, before tossing all of it in a pot and waiting for it to boil. 

As he set the pot over the fire, he saw Katara, groaning as she rubbed her eyes. “Aang, what are you doing?” 

He smiled at her. “I’m making noodles.”

She frowned at him. “In the middle of the night?” 

“I just--” He sighed. “I’m sorry for waking you up, but I, um.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I wanted noodles.” 

Katara rubbed at her eyes, and smiled blearily at him. “Can I have some?”

So Aang pulled out two bowls, one for him, and one for Katara, and scooped some noodles and vegetables into both of their bowls. He sliced a hard-boiled egg in half, putting one half in his noodles, the other half in Katara’s, and set the bowl in front of her. 

She raised an eyebrow. “All right, let’s see if these middle of the night noodles are any good.” 

She gingerly ate a little bit, and her eyes went wide. “Tui and La,” she breathed. 

“What?” Aang asked. “Do you like them?” 

“Do I like them? Do I like them?!?!? Aang, this is almost as good as Bato’s sea prunes.” 

Aang raised his eyebrows. “Oh, that’s... that’s great!” 

Katara kicked him lightly under the table. “They’re really, really good Aang. You know,” she said, stuffing more noodles in her mouth, “If you ever get sick of the whole Avatar thing, you could be a really great chef.” 

“Thanks, Katara,” he said. “I can make them for you again. Any time you want.” 

Katara nodded vigorously. “You’d better.” 

_____________________________________________________________________

He ended up making them quite a lot, actually. A few weeks after middle of the night noodles, Katara found out that she was pregnant, and there was many a night where she poked at his side and mumbled, “Noodles?” His technique improved every time he made them, and he loved watching her face light up every time he made them for her. 

Bumi was born, and for a while he was too wrapped up in figuring out how to be a good dad to think about the noodles. But he thought of Gyatso, often. Wondering what he would think of Bumi, of Katara, of the life that he’d made for himself. Of how he’d handled being the Avatar. Of how he’d survived the unsurvivable, and held onto the memory of the Air Nomads while he did so. 

When Bumi turned a year old, Katara decided they should invite everybody over for dinner to celebrate. “You can make those noodles!” she suggested excitedly. 

Aang laughed. “I would think you were sick of those.” 

“Oh, I am,” she said. “Just a little bit. But everybody else hasn’t tried them, and it is so hard trying to figure out something that Zuko and Suki will both like. But I don’t see how either of them could not like the noodles.” 

Aang agreed, and so he served the noodles to all of his friends, to their absolute delight. “You really can cook, Twinkle Toes,” Toph said, whistling. 

“This is amazing, Aang,” Suki said. “Almost as good as sea prunes.”

“This is way better than sea prunes,” Zuko said, holding out his bowl. “Can I have some more?” 

Somehow, every time Aang and Katara went to go see Suki and Sokka, or to the Fire Nation to see Zuko, or to the Earth Kingdom to visit Toph’s metalbending academy, they always managed to bring up the noodles. “You should have brought some,” Toph grumbled. “Could really go for some Twinkle Toes noodles right now.” 

“I wouldn’t call them ‘Twinkle Toes’ noodles,” Aang scoffed. 

Toph raised an eyebrow. “Really? Then what would you call them?” 

And before Aang could even think about it, he said, “Flamey-O. Flamey-O Noodles.” 

Toph burst out laughing. “You’re really never going to let that go, are you, Twinkle Toes?” 

Aang shook his head. “Nope. I’m bringing it back.” 

“Well, you know, if you ever wanted to turn ‘Flamey-O Noodles’ into something real, one of my students’ moms is in the restaurant business.” 

Aang stared at her. “You mean you want me to make this into... a business? I don’t have time for that.” 

Toph shrugged. “All right. Just something to consider.” She smirked. “You know, if the name Flamey-O was plastered all over Ba Sing Se, saying ‘flameo, hotman’ might come back into style. And not even just in the Fire Nation, either. All over the world.” 

Aang’s eyes glinted mischievously. “What did you say your student’s mom’s name was?” 

____________________________________________________________________

“I must say, it’s not every day the Avatar is approaching me for a business venture. I’m quite honored to be in your presence, your grace.”

“It’s nice to meet you too! You can just call me Aang, though. In fact, I’d prefer it.” 

Bao was a short, stout woman, probably twice Aang’s age (without considering the time he spent in the iceberg.) She had a warm presence that he liked immediately, although she did seem to be making a lot of the whole “Avatar” thing. 

“Spirits, I’m on first name basis with the Avatar,” she breathed in awe. “Come, come, sit, please, tell me how I can serve you best, your-- Avatar Aang.” 

“Just Aang,” he said quickly. “And I’m more interested in serving you... some of my noodles!” He set a bowl in front of her. “They’re not fresh, sorry, but I think they’re still really good.” 

She frowned. “Noodles? Av-- Aang, don’t you have Air Acolytes waiting on you hand and foot? Why would you make your own noodles?” 

He laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “No, they don’t wait on me hand and foot, although I’m sure if I gave them the opportunity they’d jump at it. But, um. Well, I learned how to make these noodles from the monks, and my wife and my friends seem to really like them, and my friend Toph knew you from the metalbending academy, and she said that you could get these noodles out to a lot of people. So I wanted you to try them, and maybe we can talk about going into business together?” 

Bao stared at him. “You do realize that what you’re proposing is absolutely preposterous, right?” 

Aang’s eyes widened. “But you haven’t even tried them!” 

“It’s not about the noodles, Ava-- Aang. Aang. Look, I am absolutely wonderful at the food business, but I had certain values instilled in me from when I was a child, and one of those values was absolute and total reverence for the Avatar.” 

“But can’t you just try them?” 

“The Avatar is supposed to bring balance to the world, manage international conflicts, mentor all of us in the values of wisdom and serenity, and you want me to eat your noodles?”

She stared at him expectantly, and Aang shifted in his seat. “Well. Yes.” 

Bao narrowed her eyes at him, and looked down at the bowl. “All right, then. If that’s what you wish, Avatar.” 

“Just Aang is fine.” 

She ignored him and stuck her chopsticks into the noodles, chewing very slowly. Savor your food. There was no expression on her face as she kept chewing, just a furrowing of her brow. 

“Have you made this dish often, Aang?” she asked. 

He nodded. “I made it a lot while my wife was pregnant, and then my friends kept asking for some, and--”

“Stop,” she said. She took another bite and continued chewing. “If I were to go into business with you, you would want to call the company what?”

“Um, Flamey-O Noodles, ma’am.” Her expressionless chewing had suddenly made him feel very small. 

“Well, it’s certainly distinctive,” she mumbled. “Though I don’t know how well it would go over with people in the Fire Nation.” 

“Are you--are you saying you’ll go into business with me?” 

“Aang, those noodles are quite simply the best I’ve ever eaten,” Bao said matter-of-factly. “And I’m not saying that because you’re the Avatar. In fact, I would say that even if you were a toad-pigeon. And I hate toad-pigeons.” She smiled, finally, and Aang let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “I would be absolutely delighted to help you in creating Flamey-O Noodles.” 

He got up from his seat and wrapped her in a hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” 

“Avatar Aang, this is rather improper,” she said, but it was somewhat muffled by his chest. When they pulled apart, she shook her head at him. “In business, we shake hands.” 

“Right.” He took her hand and shook it. “I promise, you won’t regret it!” 

“I imagine I won’t,” she said. “Now, let’s talk packaging....” 

___________________________________________________________________

Zuko and Mai were on their evening walk through the city, disguised so that no one would recognize them as Firelord and Lady. As they moved towards downtown Caldera City, they stopped in front of a large poster with the words “Flamey-O Noodles!” in bright neon yellow, beside Aang’s smiling face. 

As somebody passed by them, they raised their hand in greeting. “Flameo, hotman!” 

“What? What are they talking about?” Mai asked. 

Zuko groaned. “I hate him.” 

[sometimesrosy]

I have bouts of unhappiness from time to time, now more frequently than not. For more than a year, I haven’t talked to friends because of COVID and confinement. All of the friends I talk to are online, but there’s no human contact. One of them is spanish, so we never talked any other way. The others are mostly my boyfriend’s friends with whom we talk on discord. I only see my mom, grandma, boyfriend, and my cats. I work at a study center, but now even the kids I talk to through zoom because of a new confinement. I’ve been feeling pretty low and without a drive in life. I stopped reading, I stopped bullet journaling, I stopped writing, I stopped watching movies and tv. Recently I’ve started streaming video games, and honestly it’s the only thing that keeps me doing something outside of work, but I wonder when will I give up on it too. I’d like to blame this on the confinement, but even before we had it, I had already isolated myself from people. It’s really easy to feel lonely, to feel like I can’t connect. I know it’s not depression because I’ve had and I hit rock bottom then, so I know I’m better. I lost friends along my life, but most of it was for the best. I have found a life partner that treats me 100% well and who gave the best kitties I could have ever asked for. I have a mom that does anything and everything for me, a grandma that cooks for me, a house with fast internet. I have a job and students that like me. And yet, sometimes I feel like I’m here doing nothing? As if I have no purpose? I have so many interests it kills me to never be satisfied. I honestly think this is my problem. Anyway, I’m so sorry for the rant. I just felt I needed to let it out somehow. I know tomorrow I’ll wake up fine, but next week I’ll have another day like this. For now, I’m going to bed and cuddle with my boyfriend and kitties. I just wish I could change my perspective these days I’m feeling down. I don’t need to have a purpose, I don’t need to commit to hobbies. I don’t need to expect something of myself when I don’t even know what it is. Thank you for “hearing” me out. Please never delete this blog!

So here’s the thing I want you to remember:

You are living through unprecedented times. The pressures of a global pandemic, national upheaval, cultural revolution and environmental extremes have us ALL on edge.

When you take stock of your life, as you have here, you can see you’re doing pretty well. You have love and family and work and security and safety and the best kitties in the world, right? You KNOW depression and this isn’t it somehow.

And yet, you seem to think that you have to look for *your* problem, the reason why *you* particularly are feeling this way.

Nope. It’s not you. There’s not something wrong with you that isn’t wrong with everyone.

Now, I’m not a therapist, I’m not making a diagnosis here, but before this pandemic thing, there was a lot of upheaval in my life and I worked through it, leaving me in a really good position to ride out this global disaster that I wouldn’t have been in before. I mean it wasn’t good, but it’s like I experienced it before everyone else so am already on the way to healing from it while everyone else is falling into it. So from my experience and the research I have had to do for my own health and well being, what I think you’re experiencing is ANXIETY.

I think that because you told me you stopped doing the things you love, reading, bullet journaling, writing, movies and tv. That happened to me too. I mean aside from hyperfocusing on writing. It was rather stressful to STOP reading for me. And I kept feeling like something was wrong with me, then I discovered that not being able to focus on reading is actually a symptom of anxiety. And it’s common now. The world feels out of control and you feel like you should be doing something to fix it, only you can’t, and focusing on the things that are part of your life feels insufficient. You’re overwhelmed. Actually, there’s probably a bit of depression in there, too.

But I do know that I needed to read and watch COMFORT content. Something I’ve already read, or a literature genre that wraps everything up neatly in the end. For me, Historical Romance, because I need the Happy Ever After and I need the problems to be distant enough from my reality to not affect me. In fact, when I read a book that touches on traumas that are too close to real for me, I get tense and can’t continue. (I had this problem last week with a romance set in the civil war. I just can’t handle fictional racism and brutality in my escapism book when I’m trying to escape IRL racism and brutality. I think it’s because the MC was traumatized by it, where in the other books in the series, the characters were fighting it. Anyway, good books, The Loyal League Books by Alyssa Cole, the last is just hitting some of my triggers.) 

Still, I find myself unable to read science fiction or fantasy. I can ONLY read romance. It’s very weird for me, because I love SFF. But my brain is struggling to handle all the real life chaos, and there’s really no room in it right now to have comprehend the big thoughts and new universes of SFF. So when Bridgertons showed up, which is my perfect genre right now, and which I’ve already READ multiple times, so it isn’t even new material for me, THAT is the kind of thing I can watch. Superhero shows where I already know the characters. Fanfiction where it’s just two characters falling in love over and over again.

I dont’ mean to talk about myself, but as an illustration, I wanted to show you. You are overwhelmed and your brain wants to rest. Video games seems to provide that. Okay! Keep doing that. Just like I finally had to sign up for kindle unlimited so that I could zoom through all the romance books for comfort reading without having to buy new ones all the time.

This is how you are coping.

And if I read your ask right. You’re a teacher. I dont’ know what kind of teacher or if you’re irl or distance teaching, but I do know that the stress of teaching in this pandemic is INCREDIBLE.  Shoot, normal teaching is demanding enough, add the pandemic and OUCH. So I think you should recognize that you are a front line worker in keeping society running. You honestly don’t need to have a higher purpose than that... if you feel like you need to be DOING something important. You already are. 

Everyone can only do what they are capable of. Some people are in politics, some people are developing vaccines, some people are stocking shelves, some people are teaching, some people are raising kids, some people are volunteering. You don’t have to do it all. Find your place in your world and accept that you are contributing.

What you need to do right now is to take care of yourself. You MUST have time to relax. Value your family and boyfriend and kitties, just like you say. Rest, relax. Do NOT burn out. Stay healthy. That is important especially now. Eat right and drink water and sleep enough. 

I think you’re right. It is a matter of your perspective. You’ve forgotten that your life has turned upside down.  You’re expecting activity/energy levels from yourself that you had before the world was a flaming dumpster fire. But so much of your current energy is going to surviving in that flaming dumpster fire. 

EVERYONE is trying to survive right now, even when we have relatively comfortable situations. Recognize that and give yourself a break. 

[aster-aspera]

One love, one house

CW: food mention, loads of fluff

Relationships: romantic DLAMP

Chapter title is from sweater weather by the neighbourhood

read on ao3

Masterlist for my superhero AU

Patton loved his roommate, he really did, but he was just a little eccentric. Patton could deal with the sneaking in at hellish hours in the early morning, and the mud he tracked into the appartement and the faint smell of antiseptic and blood that was always present in their bathroom.

He could even deal with his roommate occasionally forgetting his tasks or even disappearing for days on end.

But this was just unacceptable. Patton stood in front of a near empty fridge, only a refrigerated tupperware full of noodles and a jar of pickles left.

“Virgil?” He called.

His roommate looked up at him from under his messy bangs, dark circles that seemed to take up half of his face under his eyes. He really should stop sneaking out at night. Patton had hoped he would have gotten more sleep during the holidays, but it seemed his roommate was determined to work himself into an early grave.

“What have you been eating?” He asked, pointing to the fridge.

Virgil gaped at him for a moment as the question made its way into his sleep deprived brain.

“Uhm, noodles?” He said, sounding unsure of himself.

“Just noodles?”

“And pickles, I guess.”

“During the holiday season?”

“Yes?”

Patton sighed. Virgil just continued staring at him, seemingly unaware of why Patton was so upset.

“You did eat something other than noodles on Christmas, right?” He asked, his voice edging on desperation.

“I dunno, when was Christmas?”

Patton snapped.

“Nope, this is unacceptable. I don’t care if you celebrate or not, but you should at least eat something.”

“I ate.” Virgil grumbled.

“Noodles!” Patton interjected.

“And it’s not like I had a lot of time on my hands to cook an elaborate meal.”

“One, it’s not that hard to throw some vegetables into a wok and two, what are you even doing during the holidays, it’s not like we have classes.”

Virgil looked down.

“Studying.” He mumbled.

“More like studying , with the way you look.”

“I don’t look that bad.”

“You look like a corpse, a cute corpse, but still a corpse.”

Virgil flushed and Patton had to fight not to coo. He was just so cute.

“Whatever, are you free tonight?” He continued.

“Uhh, sure? I have something at 11 though.”

“That’s fine, I’m cooking you dinner tonight and we’re going to have a little holiday celebration.”

“Patton, I don’t really celebrate Christmas.”

“It’s not about Christmas. I just want to have a nice night with my friend and while I’m at it, I want to make sure you’re eating something for once.”

“Ok, fine. We’ll have a holiday celebration.” Virgil groaned, but he didn’t seem totally against the idea.

Patton cheered.

“Okay, I’m going to pop over to the store first. We’ll need ingredients.”

“It’s fine, you don’t have to bother yourself too much.”

“Nonsense, I love cooking for others. Also, we’re all out of food except noodles, so I’d have to go shopping anyways.”

Virgil had the decency to look mildly guilty at that.

Virgil accompanied him to the store. Which, unlike Patton had expected, did not speed up the shopping process, but only slowed them down as they fooled around.

“Okay, okay. Let's get this done quickly, thyme is money.” Patton said, waggling his eyebrows at Virgil.

“What the hell am I doughing here.” Virgil groaned.

Patton gasped. “You made a pun!” He exclaimed.

“Yeah well, don’t expect too many of those. I wouldn’t want to oatverdo it.”

Patton gasped in delight.

“The s’more puns you make, the s’more i love you.” He proclaimed and Virgil blushed beet red.

Patton giggled as he looked at Virgil having fun. His roommate was usually a lot more reserved and morose. He had no idea what had happened that had put Virgil in such high spirits, but whatever it was, Patton was grateful. The smile that graced Virgil’s face was the most breathtaking thing he had seen all week.

Patton looked away, aware he had been staring just a little too long.

The meal was delicious, if he said so himself, and Virgil seemed to agree. He lounged back in his chair languidly, sleepy from the good food. He looked better than Patton had seen him all month. The colour had returned to his cheeks again and his eyes sparkled.

Patton silently congratulated himself on a job well done.

“That was great, Pat. Seriously.”

“I’m humbled by your compliments.”

Virgil smiled.

“Where did you even learn how to cook like this?”

“My moms taught me. They made sure to teach me all the basic survival skills like cooking, laundry and how to snare and skin rabbits.”

“Snare rabbits?” Virgil laughed.

“I lived in a forest, I had to be able to take care of myself. They taught me all kinds of other cool survival stuff too.”

“Nice, my mom barely taught me how to turn on a stove.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Virgil waved him away. “My parents just had other priorities in my upbringing. Maybe you could teach me to cook something other than pasta?”

“I’d love to.” Getting to cook and spend more time with Virgil? It sounded like heaven to Patton.

Virgil looked at the clock and suddenly shot up.

“Shit, I have to go. I’m sorry. Thanks for the food, Patton.”

“It’s fine. Anytime.” Patton watched him leave with an empty feeling in his stomach.

He didn’t mind his roommate’s odd habits, but sometimes he wished he didn’t always run off.

~

Patton had to be honest, when Virgil had first told him about his boyfriends, he had been quite shocked.

Not because of the boyfriends, plural. Patton was pretty sure he was polyamorous himself.

No, it was the fact that quiet, shy, reserved Virgil, the guy who Patton had never seen interact with anyone except Patton, had somehow gotten himself not one, but two boyfriends.

And yeah, maybe he did feel a sharp stab of jealousy when Virgil first told him. He wondered how his boyfriends had gotten him to realize they wanted to date him. Patton had been trying to make his feelings clear for months now and was almost convinced Virgil was aromantic.

They must have yelled something along the lines of “We have romantic feelings for you” to get through that thick skull of his.

Patton didn’t resent Virgil for dating them, he was happy for him. Virgil really needed something good in his life.

And now, here he was, cooking up an elaborate meal for Virgil’s boyfriends.

When Virgil had told him about his boyfriends and the fact that they had been going steady for a while, Patton had insisted they come over for dinner sometime.

“I have to make sure they’re not going to break my best friend’s heart.” He had argued.

Virgil had complained at that, but his boyfriends had agreed and a date had been fixed.

Patton had maybe gone a little overboard with the meal. Two curries stewed on the stove and he was just about to throw the homemade falafel into the pan. In the oven, naans he had made from scratch were baking.

He hoped they liked Indian.

Virgil let his boyfriends into the appartement and wow, they were hot.

One of them, the shorter of the two, beamed at him, his smile perfectly blinding, and walked over to him.

“Hello, you must be the charming Patton I’ve heard so much about.” He said with a theatrical bow.

The taller one walked over to them with a more reserved smile.

“I’m Logan and this character here is Roman. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Virgil has told us a lot about you.” He stuck out his hand.

“Really, he has?” Patton felt a warm glow at that knowledge.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you too.” He continued.

“So you’re the one who’s been keeping our Virgil alive?” Roman asked him.

“What?” Patton asked.

“V has a lot of skills, basic self care isn’t one of them.” Roman clarified.

“We’re happy he has such a good friend.” Logan added.

“Well, I’m happy to take care of him. But, yeah, self care isn’t one of his skills.”

“As much as I appreciate you guys bonding, I can take care of myself.” Virgil interjected.

“Debatable.” Logan said.

Roman seemed to have noticed the food bubbling on the stove by now.

“Ooh, indian.” He exclaimed.

“It smells good.” Logan complimented.

“Well, it’s nearly done, so get seated and I’ll bring the food over.”

“You guys are in for a treat. Pat’s the best cook I know.” Virgil informed them.

Patton blushed at the high praise.

“I must say I’m intrigued.” Logan said, while taking a seat at the table.

Patton turned off the stove and added a few leaves of coriander before carrying the dishes over to the table.

“Do you need a hand? It looks like a lot.” Roman offered.

Finally, with Roman’s help, the table was set and they all dug in, dipping their naans into the curries Patton had made.

Roman moaned theatrically.

“God, this is just heavenly.” He praised.

“It’s great Patton.” Virgil offered.

“Yes, it is quite splendid. What spices did you use?” Logan asked him.

“Well, this one has chilli powder...”

“I can taste that.” Virgil grumbled.

“Turmeric, cumin and coriander and the other one has bay leaves, cardamom, cinnamon, cloves and more chilli powder.”

“That’s a lot of spices.” Roman said.

“That’s the secret to Indian cooking, the things they can do with spices is just magical.” Patton replied.

They talked more.

Logan told him he was studying theoretical physics at the university where Virgil also studied.

“Wow, theoretical physics. Isn’t that like black holes and stuff?” Patton asked, intrigued.

“Oh boy, don’t get him started.” Virgil muttered.

Logan paid him no mind.

“That’s one aspect but it’s also so much more. It touches on all aspects of our lives.” With that Logan launched into an impassioned speech about all the things theoretical physics touched on and the different aspects of it.

Patton didn’t understand everything he was going on about, physics hadn’t been his best subject in school, but he enjoyed listening to Logan all the same. He had a way of speaking that drew you in. It was clear he really enjoyed the subject he was studying. Patton felt like he could listen to Logan for hours on end. A glance at the others told him they felt the same way, both of them staring at him with fond expressions.

“I apologise. I was rambling again, I have been told I have a tendency to do that.” Logan cut himself off.

“What? There’s nothing to apologize for, it was really fascinating.”

Logan smiled softly but didn’t go on. An awkward silence fell over the table.

“So!” Patton piped up brightly. “What do you do, Roman?”

“I’m studying to become a nurse actually.”

“Really? cool!”

They chatted about all kinds of things. Roman complained about the amount of things he had to learn. Logan told him it was nothing compared to what he had to study. Virgil lamented about annoying professors. And Patton listened, feeling a little like an intruder but a part of it all the same.

They complemented each other perfectly. Patton had no idea how they had met or what made them such a good team, but it must be something wonderful indeed.

In that moment, Patton wished so fervently he could be a part of it. He barely knew Logan and Roman and yet he could feel himself falling for them even now.

They didn’t seem to mind him being there, roping him into the conversation easily.

Logan smiled at him from across the table and Roman slung an arm over his shoulder, laughing at one of his puns.

Virgil was just getting up to refill the water jug, when an alert on his phone went off. All three of them jumped up.

“We have to leave.” Logan said, looking at his phone.

“Shit, I’m so sorry Patton.” Virgil repeated for what seemed like the thousandth time. It felt like whenever Patton was finally making progress in his relationship, something interrupted.

He didn’t mind the weird habits, he just wished he would let him in on his secrets. Hadn’t he proved his trustworthiness to Virgil?

They left him with the dishes and an empty feeling in his chest.

~

Roman, Virgil and Logan sat at the dinner table while Patton busied himself in the kitchen, finding comfort in the familiar routine of cooking. A tense silence filled the usually cozy apartment.

“How long have you known?” Logan asked finally.

Patton looked at Virgil when he answered.

“Probably since the first month.”

Virgil stammered. “I thought…”

“You thought what Virgil? That I didn’t notice you sneaking in at five in the morning? That I didn’t notice that whenever you ran off during dinner, Storm was suddenly on the news? That I didn't notice all the cuts and bruises you collected? You thought, what? That I was stupid? Blind? Deaf?” He knew he was being unfair, the others looked tired and miserable and guilty. But all his frustration at being left in the dark for years was bubbling over.

He was so tired of being treated as stupid, of being left behind when the others had to attend to hero bussiness. He was tired of lying awake worrying about them.

Patton returned to chopping the leeks with more force than absolutely necessary.

“We wanted to protect you.” Logan said, guilt colouring his voice.

“I don’t need your protection. I think you saw that tonight.”

“Yes, we were wrong. I realize that now. We apologize”

“I don’t.” Virgil said.

Patton stared at him. “What?”

Virgil stood up and faced him. “I’m sorry about lying to you, but I won’t apologize for trying to protect you. It’s bad enough these two are out on the streets, I don’t need another untrained civilian risking their life.” Virgil gestured at Roman and Logan, who didn’t look happy about being called untrained.

Patton laughed bitterly. “I’m not untrained, that much should be clear. And what makes you so trained then?”

Virgil sighed.

“When I said my parents had other priorities in my upbringing, I meant it. Instead of learning maths and chemistry, I learnt how to fight, how to take down a grown man, how to disappear into the shadows.”

“Why?” Patton asked, he was aware Virgil hadn’t had the most traditional upbringing, but this wasn’t what he had expected.

“I was to be an assassin, but the company we worked for disbanded and my mom decided to give me a normal life.” He explained coldy, it was clear there was more there, but Patton decided now was not the best time to ask.

They were all tired from the events of the evening and Patton really just wanted to curl up in bed and sleep for another week. All his anger at his friends keeping him in the dark had faded, leaving him with just his exhaustion.

He turned back to the quiche he was making, with store bought dough, his mom would be shocked, and slid it into the oven.

“I’m just happy you guys are alright.” He said, extending an olive branch.

“Well, we were lucky our valiant knight in shining armour came to our rescue.” Roman said, his voice lacking his usual flamboyance.

Patton sat down next to Virgil and laid his head on his shoulder. Virgil wrapped his arm around him.

“You guys are lucky I knew where you were.”

“Yeah, how did you do that? Do you have us micro-chipped or something?” Roman questioned.

Patton just smiled mysteriously.

~

Patton popped his head into their bedroom, where Janus was talking into a phone. Patton listened for a moment as Janus talked to someone in rapid fire French, sounding mildly irritated.

He noticed Patton standing in the doorway and held up a hand signaling he would be done soon. He rolled his eyes and mouthed “Grandmother” at him.

Patton stifled a giggle. Janus’s grandmother was notoriously difficult.

“Oui, oui mémé, je promets.”

He put down the phone with a sigh.

“Why is she like this?” He sighed in exasperation.

Patton wrapped his arms around Janus’s waist and nuzzled into his neck.

“It’s ‘cause she loves you, honeybee.”

“Loves to annoy me, more like. Anyways, did you need something, mon cœur ?”

“Yeah, you said you’d help with dinner?”

“Course, give me a minute, I’m coming.”

“I’ll go peel the potatoes.” Patton bounced down the stairs.

On the couch, Logan and Roman were attempting to watch a period drama, keyword, attempting.

They were currently critiquing the costumes in the show, Roman in particular was raving about corsets on bare skin.

Patton smiled, he loved them both very much, but watching a movie or show with them was nearly impossible. They both had trouble keeping their thoughts to themselves.

“Having fun?” He asked as he pressed a kiss to Roman’s forehead.

“Corsets on bare skin, Patton! What is wrong with them?” Roman flung his hands up, nearly knocking Patton’s glasses off.

“Whoops, sorry.” He apologized.

Patton kissed him again and gave Logan a quick side hug.

“You guys enjoy, I’m going to get started on dinner.”

“I highly doubt I will be able to enjoy it, considering all the mistakes in the writing and costuming.” Logan muttered.

Janus joined him in making dinner and together they worked efficiently. Janus was a great cook and a good help in the kitchen. Together, they managed to make something good without getting in each others’ way too much.

Janus put on an old timey jazz song and as the food sizzled on the stove, they slowed gently in the kitchen.

The door opened and Virgil blew in with a gust of cold air. He groaned as he dropped his bag on the floor.

“Everything all right, mon amour?” Janus questioned.

“Just tired, training was hard today.” Virgil sighed.

“Yeah, I see. Go take a shower.” Janus wrinkled his nose.

Virgil made to kiss Janus but he warded him off.

“Go shower first.” He instructed.

“I want a kiss.” Virgil whined.

“I’ll give you a kiss.” Patton said.

“Don’t enable him.” Janus groaned but he pressed a quick kiss to Virgil’s nose.

Patton drew Virgil in for a soft, gentle one and then pushed him in the direction of the shower.

“Go. Food’s nearly done.”

Right on cue, Roman bounced into the kitchen, Logan trailing behind him.

“Food’s ready?” He asked.

“Not yet. Will you guys set the table?” Patton asked.

As busy clattering filled the kitchen, Patton felt a smile slip onto his lips. Janus noticed and wrapped his arms around him.

“What are you thinking about?” He whispered into his ear.

“Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

“Yeah, we really are.” He sighed.

They smiled as Virgil entered the kitchen and promptly got wrapped up in a hug from Roman.

[wolfcha1k]

As soon as I started practicing kisses I suddenly can't help adding them now lmao something fluffy and firey for you heathens. Still sfw content tho ofc. Based on the new fanart I did recently so some of it doesn't match the art in hindsight :"D I think now its just gonna be a new tradition to write something to go along with my pieces.

They were taking one of their occasional adventures away from the Betterman Farm, where they would hunker down in the wilderness for several days at a time. For a while, Guy and Eep would forget there was an entire world that they shared with other people; their family. It was just the two of them, hunting and foraging and seeing the beauty the land itself provided.

She knew her home was the Farm now but her heart would never deny she was always meant for the untamed wild where the sun stretched on forever. She wasn't sure why Guy had lead her towards the desert as an area for camp, it was hot and unspeakably dry during the day, sweltering even. Her entire life had been the dusty desert and the canyon with that awful cave as the only escape from the heat.

As dusk fell, Guy had only grinned at her. They'd set up camp not long after the daytime sun joined the many nighttime suns in the sky. The sight of how many slept above her still was awe striking. Guy skinned a boar they'd hunted together, something Eep wanted to teach Dawn about someday. She knew as much as Guy enjoyed his safer, more pampered life with the Bettermans, he was still that adventurous nomad born and raised. He lived for the thrill his skills provided him and how all his ideas saved him from many obstacles.

Eep watched the fire flicker and sway, it was still surprising how alive looked. She leaned her hands out to toast her palms, the desert chilled now the sun set. She didn’t understand that either, how such a mercilessly hot place can become so cold.

The embers glowed in her green eyes when she felt Guy touch her wrist. Eep turned to him, seeing the fire reflecting in his dark gaze. He was beautiful, one of the most wonderful things she ever saw even after everything he'd shown her.

"I got the boar skinned, just need help putting a skewer through it," Guy said, gesturing towards the beast. They had parked themselves by an oasis, giving Guy a way to wash off the blood from his hands.

Eep had offered to do it, blood never phased her but Guy insisted she just rest. In the meantime she had bathed in the spring, the sand and sweat on her uncomfortable before settling down by the fire to wait on her mate. She hadn't wanted to admit it but she felt rather tired after the long trek. Guy had his reasons for picking this place but he could be so strange and peculiar about it in a way she never understood.

Perhaps that was why she loved him so much. There was nobody else in the world like him, even if she could only count the amount of people she knew on both hands.

Eep stood up from her crouching position. "Sure, I'm starving," she exclaimed, eying the pig carcass greedily. "Are you absolutely certain we can't just - "

"No, you are not sinking your teeth into that thing without cooking it first," Guy scolded her, it was more akin to when Ugga was telling off her children for causing mischief. "You'll get sick. I need to bring you back to Grug in one piece or I'll be in pieces."

"Fineeeee," Eep compromised with a dramatic sigh, leaning her neck back before walking over to help her mate spear the pig.

Eep with Guy’s help, well, mostly Eep but she liked making him feel useful, carried the spitted animal towards the campfire and held it over it. Guy had crafted some little makeshift contraption with wood and rope he'd packed, so they could use a pulley system to rotate the roasting boar

The two took alternating shifts.

"It's funny," Eep couldn’t help but muse suddenly, taking in the view. The fire made the golden sandstone burn a brilliant red color, reminding her of amber.

"What's funny?" Guy asked from his post by the pig, rotating it with a careful eye so it cooked evenly.

"Well…" Eep leaned her elbow on her bent knee, her chin on her hand. "We met in a desert and you asked me to marry you in one too."

Guy tried hiding his smile by turning back to cooking but Eep saw it, perceptive as always. He pretended to ignore her narrow eyed look. "Funny how fate works," he quipped and heard Eep snort in a very unadulterated fashion.

"You planned this," Eep accused him and Guy finally was forced to face the music because the boar didn't need this much turning on the spit.

"Me? Plan things? You must be mistaken," Guy quipped, his tone betraying him. His grin was wide. "Okay, you got me. Happy anniversary, or have you forgotten?"

"As if I can forget the night I nearly dashed your brains out with a rock," she said with more fondness than any normal person should, jumping to her feet.

Guy held her hands, leaning forward to nuzzle his nose against hers. "Me either, you're a hard one to forget."

"Well, I did call you back."

"You did," he agreed before pouting. "Not my smoothest pick up line though."

"So you didn't tell every girl that line? 'If you survive, call me?'" Eep quoted, exposing her teeth in a teasing smirk.

"Nope, you were the first and only," Guy assured her, winking. "It worked."

"It did," she agreed back, shaking her head with a giggle. "So…" Eep began coyly, averting her eyes towards the landscape colored black in silhouette.

"So…?" Guy urged her, knowing that Eep didn't need the coaxing but somehow it had just become their thing.

"What if I did come with you that night," Eep asked him, turning back to bat her eyelashes at him. "I think this is the perfect spot to humor the thought." She gazed around the desert, the ground hard with stone, much like the one she had followed Guy's fire that night.

"Well for one, your dad would have killed me because I didn't know he was part of the equation yet," Guy replied, both joking and serious as he said it. "This little journey would have definitely been way more interesting though if I had stolen you away from him."

"Stolen me," she echoed with a laugh though her ears burned from a mixture of the fire and thought. There had been an obvious attraction and two teenagers journeying alone, well, it didn't take a Betterman to figure it out. "You make this sound scandalous, Guy."

"It's not now though so that means when you took my hand, I'd do this." He lifted her palm to his lips, gently kissing a scar that led down to the pulse point of her wrist.

"No, you wouldn't have," Eep teased him. "You were too scared of me to try it."

"I wouldn’t," he agreed. "But this is a fantasy so anything can happen."

"Okay," she amused him, letting Guy continue his little story.

Guy seemed to realize a dark implication in this what if and since it was a fantasy, he could change that. "The world isn't ending, I'm still a nomad but you're just a stir crazy teenage girl instead."

"I am a stir crazy teenage girl," Eep corrected him, leaning up on her toes to brush his cheek with her nose. "And I'll remind you everyday, babe."

"You make telling this story harder than it needs to be," Guy lamented in mock offense, drawing her closer to eye her down. Eep just grinned innocently. "Stop putting plot holes."

Eep just giggled, feeling him turn her hand over to kiss her knuckles and each finger delicately. It was like having a butterfly touch her skin.

"Fine, then what?"

"We'd run away together," he continued, looking up at her with loving eyes. "Somehow outsmart your dad because Sandy would totally have sniffed us out in the morning."

Eep smirked, fighting off a broad smile in her amusement. "Would you have fought him?"

"I mean…" Sure, it was a fantasy but he was also just stronger, bigger and scarier than Guy was. Besides, hindsight wasn't twenty twenty and this caveman was now a second father to him. As annoying and abrasive as Grug had been in all the time Guy knew him, he also had a begrudging respect and admiration for him too. "Maybe we'd just bring him along anyway, save us the trouble."

"Is the log ride magic now?" Eep asked him with a wicked grin. "Does it fly us to Tomorrow? I'm sure it could if dad kicked it hard enough for us."

Guy scoffed, "This is my fantasy so there is no log."

"Aw, you're no fun," she sniggered, lifting his hand to press his palm into her nose fondly. "The log brought us together."

"Yeah but in this story you already came with me," Guy reminded her with a gentle tug, taking her hand back to stroke his thumbs fondly over her knuckles.

Eep tried hard not to laugh again, blushing as well under the soft look he gave her. He smiled at her and she melted like ice. It was intimate and vulnerable, more so than anything they'd done in all the time proceeding to this moment.

"Alright," she murmured, stroking his chest after laying her palm flat against his heart. She fiddled with the seashells dangling around his neck, idly stroking his throat and felt him swallow. "Then what?"

"I'd show you the world and since there's no The End… we wouldn't rush through it. You know, actually do some sight seeing. Fall slowly in love with each beautiful thing I show you but never seems to compare to you." Eep couldn’t help the giddy giggle as he called her beautiful, beaming bright like a sun ray at his compliment. Guy's eyes almost glazed over as he gave the silly romantic escapade story more thought, he chuckled. "Your dad would ruin all our little moments though, so it's kinda hard."

"So even in this little I went with you story, dad still keeps us apart?" Eep pouted.

"Every story needs conflict," Guy teased her. "Dad was going to catch up eventually, family in tow. We were taking the scenic route, it was bound to happen, Eep."

Eep rolled her eyes at him, tugging Guy down so they could sit with their backs to the fire. She leaned her weight against his side, feeling Guy rest his arm behind her back. "I hope things start getting more romantic for us, Guy."

Guy pressed a kiss to her temple, grinning. "It does. After hauling our crazy family cross country, we find the sun hidden on a mountain."

Eep remembered Guy's mountain, two tall twin peaks that extended high above the sky, swathed in clouds and extending out to a meadow after climbing the outcrop. They were supposed to ride it to Tomorrow, joining it among the many sleeping suns above. "How are we going to ride it to Tomorrow if I'm your Tomorrow?"

"I'm retconning stuff, stop spoiling the story," Guy scolded her, just resting his head on hers, taking in her smokey wild scent. "I realize this sooner, because the sun isn't really attainable. We go after it but it just gets farther and farther away." He extended his hand out in a reaching gesture. This meant Guy was really getting into the story.

"Are you sad for awhile?" Eep inquired, absently hugging his bicep now that Guy no longer held her hands.

"For a bit," he admitted. "I mean, my parents said to follow the sun but you really can't but…" Guy paused and gazed fondly at his wife tucked into his side, body warm, familiar and supple.

"But…?"

"I found you, light led me to you. I realize this and tell you I love you after this little journey." Guy nuzzled her cheek with a blissful little sigh. "Also then we find the Bettermans and live happily ever after in their treehouse with the punch monkeys."

Eep poked him in the chest, not really the reaction he was expecting after that happy ending. "You can't just skip an entire chapter like that and tack 'the end!'"

Guy took her hand in both of his, cupping it tender in-between his palms. "It works when your dad tells stories," he joked.

"Well, that was before you started telling better stories," Eep exclaimed with a childish huff that was so her it made Guy muffle a laugh into her shoulder.

"Did you tell Grug that?"

"You know how dad is," she replied a bit more sheepishly this time. "Least everybody doesn't die at the end anymore."

"They don't," he agreed, gazing at her fondly once again. "He's getting better though, I like happy endings."

"I like happy endings. I like you," Eep added, cuddling herself cozy as a cat under his arm and against his chest. She listened to his heartbeat, soothed by the gentle thump.

Guy stroked her back, gentle as he rested his chin above her head. "Only like?" He murmured.

"Maybe if you don't rush your endings then I'll say something else," she told him, Guy feeling her lips as she spoke against his heart.

Guy hugged her, adjusting his position so he could tug his wife onto his lap. She immediately curled up there, warm and safe as he draped his arms around her like a cocoon. "What if there is no ending yet? I like leaving our story open ended, Eep."

He suddenly found himself on his back and he gave a soft oof in surprise. Eep leaned over him, hands braced above his head as she looked down at him. The firelight made her already bright red hair even more so, blazing like the sun with the dark shadows making her eyes and face seem more intense.

"Then… I guess I can accept that," she relented after several moments, a smile crossing her face. She pressed her forehead against his, nose touching his.

Guy's eyes fluttered closed, knowing the intimate implications of the gesture amongst her people. He felt her breath fan his face before something soft touched his lips.

Immediately he wrapped his arms around her, letting his palms gently stroke the strong muscles of her back as they flexed beneath them. He'd never tired of her, beautiful and feral as she was. There was a soft gasp against his lips and he gave a quiet little growl, pressing up to mold his body with hers.

He found his words despite wanting to just keep kissing her. The moment was too right to neglect however. It took a few long moments of trading kiss after kiss that Guy had an idea to put his lips to good use in a way he wouldn't need to stop. Trailing a few heated kisses down the soft slope of her neck, he mumbled, "Eep?"

She hummed, "Mhm?" It was hardly the most direct of words but he took it.

"You lit a fire in me when we met," Guy confessed though he knew it was obvious at this point. It was no secret despite the circumstances of their relationship's beginning, he'd been infatuated and found her cute. Scary habits despite that, of course. "And you were in my every thought since then, I really was hoping you'd call me, Eep."

"I really wanted to go with you," she said, pushing him away to graze a palm down his bicep, tracing a stripe fondly before finding his hand to lace their fingers together. Her touch singed him more than the embers behind him did from where he lay. "I just…"

"You came with me eventually though," he reminded her though found he needed to remind himself to focus when she lifted his hand to her lips to kiss his longer fingers. He closed his eyes, sighing. "You gave me something even better than any Tomorrow I thought I'd find out there."

"Even if you were a stupid boy?" She teased him through the haze, bracing her weight against his again. She still sometimes made fun of him for that but in the moment he hardly cared, caging her in his arms.

"Yes," he grunted, Guy would agree to anything she said right now so long as she kept touching him like this.

Their lips met again but she suddenly paused, her roaming hands no longer roaming. He huffed against her lips, confused and a bit frustrated that she stopped.

"Guy?" Eep murmured against his lips breathily.

"Mhm?" It wasn't an intelligible response but having Eep so close to him like this always rendered him a useless fool.

"Do you smell something burning?" Eep drew away, ignoring Guy's protesting whine as their lips no longer brushed.

"Just my love for you," he told her, sitting up with what he hoped was a winning smile.

Eep flared her nostrils at the smell and eyes widening looked past Guy towards their camp fire, having completely forgotten about the cooking boar during their recent activities.

"Guy, the boar is on fire," she exclaimed.

Guy in an instant scrambled to his feet to try salvaging their dinner. "Oh crap!" He ran for a waterskin and a blanket but to Eep it was probably a fruitless endeavor.

She was never much of a picky eater anyway. Sometimes some burning did a meal good, she thought, touching her lips with a grin.

[scrapbookonthemantle]

OC Companion Meme

i got tagged by @ultrastimpaks​ !! thanks gio love u 

rules: pick out a fallout oc and fill out the prompts!

tagging uh. @sleights-of-hand​ @rocket-69​ and @rotarydials​​ !!

THE BASICS

>> which game would they be from?

Fallout 3

>> where would you find them?

A random encounter in the subways!

>> how do you recruit them?

"Just put it down! I didn't do anything to you!" Oppy shouts at the pair while holding her hands in the air.

"Aw, you really think I care, don't you?" The raider throws Oppy's backpack to another, who begins to dig through its contents.

"Never said that. Just give it back and I'll be on my--"

(I wrote it out as a dialogue tree scenario! Read the rest here!)

After rescuing Oppy from the raiders, you have the option to recruit her as a traveling companion.

>> do they have a specialized task?

If you give her dirty water, she’ll eventually hand back purified water!

(First time picking up dirty water with Oppy traveling with you) “Oooh! My mom taught me how to boil all the dirt and stuff out of water ages ago. I can clean those up for you if you want! Much healthier too, don’t want you getting sick on me!”

(Giving her dirty water) “Oh yuck! Will get this back to you as soon as I can!”

(Handing back purified water) “Bye dirt! You belong with the plants, not in my drinking water, thank you very much!”

>> do they give the player items? if yes, which items?

Oppy will occasionally pick up miscellaneous items on your journey with her. Sometimes they’ll even be useful! She will occasionally share them with the player. The things she picks up can range from an old pre-war phone to a stray stimpak she nabbed.

>> do they have a personal quest? if yes, what would it be?

Oppy doesn’t have a personal quest, but she’ll occasionally bring up smaller quests to go to different places around the DC area for research purposes. The player will likely need to take down low-level enemies from these locations before Oppy is able to complete her research.

If enough quests are completed, the player is granted the ‘In the Know!’ perk. This will grant special dialogue options while Oppy is by your side. 

(For example, during the Stealing Independence quest if you have Oppy by your side you can ask Abraham to tell you more about the location you’re going to.)

>> can you romance them?

No.

(If flirted with) “Oh! Well, I’m flattered, but I’m not really looking for romance right now. I’d rather just go on more adventures with you! Where to next?”

>> what perk would they give the player?

Walking on Sunshine: Well-rested will always be granted after sleeping in a bed - being around Opportunity just seems to put you in a good mood! You also receive bonus EXP for any non-combat related actions.

>> what are their SPECIAL stats?

S - 6, P - 4, E - 6, C - 9, I - 8, A - 7, L - 7

AFFINITY

>> loves

- Using a cooking station. “I love cooking! Do you need any help? I know what I’m doing, believe it or not.”

- Helping others, doing good deeds. “Good work! Some people are just down on their luck.”

- Taking down Paradise Falls. “No one deserves to be treated like that. No one.”

- Choosing the non-violent option in quests. “You handled that well! Sometimes words work better than bullets.”

>> likes

- Helping Moira with the Wasteland Survival Guide. “I know it’s tough, but it’s going to help a lot of people! No, really! ...What do you mean I sound just like her, shut up!”

- Siding with Roy Phillips and doing the non-violent route of the Tenpenny Tower quest. “You did the right thing, that Alistair guy is an asshole. ...Excuse my language.”

>> neutral

- Entering vaults. “The so-called height of the pre-war era... Did you know they were experimenting on people even before the bombs dropped? Cruel. We should get out of here as soon as we can.”

>> dislikes

- Drinking alcohol or using chems. “Hey! Being intoxicated isn’t going to help us get anywhere!”

- Pickpocketing/Stealing. “What are you doing?! Put that back!”

- Attempting to unlock owned doors or objects. “Stop it! How would you like it if I blatantly ignored your privacy? Those are locked for a reason!”

- Killing brahmin. “If you wanted to be a butcher you could have just said so, but this isn’t the time or place. What did they do to you?”

>> hates

- Leaving Harold alive during the Oasis quest. “I want plants back just as much as anyone else, but this isn’t the way to do it. He’s suffering at the hands of these people... Maybe you should have rethought that.” (Oppy will pull you aside to try talking you out of it multiple times during the quest.)

- Blowing up Megaton. “Why... would you.... I don’t understand your- What? You know what? No. I can’t stand to look at your face. Don’t try explaining yourself, I’m leaving. Don’t come running after me, either.” (Oppy will permanently leave you if you blow up Megaton. She will pull you aside to try talking you out of it multiple times throughout the quest.)

- Siding with the Brotherhood. “I’m afraid I don’t get why you would do that... They’re only out to help themselves. Have you seen the way they treat anyone different from their own?”

VOICE LINES

>> “use melee”

"Oh! Okay, I got my bat ready! I’ll try my best!”

>> “use ranged”

"I’m not sure that’s the best decision, I always seem to lose my ammo...”

>> “stay close”

“Right behind you! I’ll try not to trip you up.”

>> “keep distance”

“Got it! They’ll never see us- Er... Me, coming!” 

>> “back up”

“Oh sorry, was I too close?”

>> “be passive”

“Great! That’s my specialty.”

>> “be aggressive”

“Why would you want me to do that?”

>> “wait here”

“No problem! Do you want me to set up a camp while I wait?”

>> “follow me”

“Off we go!”

>> when healed

“Ow ow ow- Oh, thanks! You sure we don’t have to amputate?”

>> when killed (general)

“This wasn’t... how I planned this going...”

>> when killed (by player)

“I trusted you!”

>> when talking

“Back home my granmama would always make these tato cakes- they were the BEST. You’d love ‘em. Maybe I could make them for you sometime!”

“There’s a lot more to learn about our history than you’d think. Doesn’t do any good to just ignore it when it’s all repeating itself again.”

“One time my cousins and I were out playing in a nearby creek when we were young and Matty got his leg stuck in the mud.. We were out there for HOURS until my dad and my uncle came out to rescue us. Hey, at least we got snacks afterward!”

“Don’t you find feral ghouls fascinating? I mean, basically losing your mind and who you are as a person.. Only hanging onto what little threads of memory you can hang onto. Must be hard.”

“I think the Capitol Preseveration Society is doing good work, even if most people don’t appreciate it. History has to be remembered somehow!”

“Back home we didn’t have a lot of plants, but we at least had more than there are here.. Sometimes I get tired of all the concrete and rubble.”

“You know... As much as I enjoy looking back at history and all, I don’t want you to think I want to go back to it. Pre-war wasn’t good, I mean, hell, it ended up with a nuclear war that brought us to where we are now.”

“I’ve always thought people should make more of their own music. My family was always singing and drumming against things... I rarely see any of that around here. It’s kinda gloomy, really!”

“I’m not a fan of that Brotherhood of Steel group... They say they’re preserving old technology, but they’re not really helping anybody or teaching anyone outside of their crew, are they?”

>> when trading (neutral)

“Shoot... Which pocket did I put this in again?”

“Hold on, I think I lost... Nope, there it is.”

>> when trading (happy)

“Oh good! Do you have snacks?”

“I assure you I’ll handle your things with the UTMOST care and attention. I even have a dust rag around here somewhere!”

>> when dismissed

“Oh, okay... I’ll be in Rivet City if you need me!”

[panickypeachboy]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; MUN & MUSE - MEME.

FILL OUT & REPOST ♥ this meme definitely favors canons more, but i hope oc’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. multi-muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

TAGGED BY:  @sternenteile, #1 Geno fan. TAGGING:  Do it.

MY MUSE IS:  canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless / complicated

is your character popular in the fandom? YES / NO. [ Nope. Most people just call ZPiW the game with anime girls wielding guns. Outside of me, not much fanart is produced of the peach boy, as it’s well, mostly the girls. Miiverse revealed that the ratio is a bit more even but still, peeps really like them girl designs (designed by a female artist) ]

is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK. [ i mean ?? i’ve met and seen many people who have/had crushes on geno so ??????? but i don’t think it’s like. that. ghfskjhgsg??? ]

is your character considered strong in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK. [ Personally, I have to say yes. Momotaro is strong as frick because in game, you’re supposed to level towns to “clean them up”. And this is in addition to the traditional Momotaro folktale that, a Momotaro is a strong child who can lift. However, most just look to Snow White as the strongest cuz she dented metal bare handed...and well is the “face” of the game.]

are they underrated?  YES / NO / IDK. [ This game is better known for having girls...with guns. But I wouldn’t say he’s really *that* underrated, considering the basic character is just that...basic. ]

were they relevant for the main story?  YES / NO. [ Well, my theory is that he just stumbled upon the fight between survivors and zombies so...kind of yes? Momotaro was one to actually gather folks to storm the castle as they say, because it seems before hand the other heroes were just minding their own business. So, being the one who talks the most (ironically) and the one that the game follows...yeah he’s relevant.]

were they relevant for the main character? YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG. [ Sadly so, in the sense that I wished the devs would’ve allowed for branching plots depending on which character you choose. This is including the fact that the game is purposely trying to emulate how old-school games were bare bones in characterizations and plot.]

are they widely known in their world? YES / NO. [ Just another folklore hero in the world of Wonderland...a place chock FULL of fairy tales and folktales. Though he might’ve garnered a reputation of being destructive after ZPiW... ]

how’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / neutral. [ ]

HOW STRICTLY DO YOU FOLLOW CANON?  —  Ehhhh...I think I make do with what I got from the teeny breadcrumbs of canon I got...however, many folks commented that Momotaro looks WAAAAAAY tougher than what I make him out to be so...I guess that’s a fail for following canon strictly on my part. .w.;; If I truly went 1:1, things may be bland...or not...I mean there’s as many subversions to the traditional heroes as there are well, the typical shounen stuff.

SELL YOUR MUSE! AKA TRY TO LIST EVERYTHING, WHICH MAKES YOUR MUSE INTERESTING IN YOUR OPINION TO MAKE THEM SPICY FOR YOUR MUTUALS.  —  Is Momotaro an OC at this point? Probably. But hey, if you guys want a lad who’s adorable but tough...you could look elsewhere...or you can find that in Momo! I wanted to try to represent some stuff of special needs, but I’m still working out the kinks...but the kid’s loyal, and a very good cook at that! He definitely needs a confidence booster, but could that be part of his charm? Maybe. But hey, I think y’all might really like the idea I got for him, and mainly Smash! Like, have you ever wondered what goes on in that mansion? ...well yes, but what about those who aren’t fighters? Or even assist trophies! That’s where the smash verse comes in! Take a peek into the (tough) lives of Waddle Dees and the peach boy, along with other creatures not suitable for Smash! They’re just as handy for making sure the place is well run and fed! If someone isn’t cleaning and cooking to maintain 70+ fighters, and 20+ assist trophies...who is?

NOW THE OPPOSITE, LIST EVERYTHING WHY YOUR MUSE COULD NOT BE SO INTERESTING (EVEN IF YOU MAY NOT AGREE, WHAT DOES THE FANDOM PERHAPS THINK?).  —  This is a character from a game whose designers may appreciate the female figure a bit too much. I always have a tough time recommending this game to others, and hell, I’m terrible at playing it myself. Hell, the fact that most of the characters are minors is just a...”why do you design them like this Bo.mi” thing. Most do seem to think highly of those designs though, as that’s the main aspect of the game I keep hearing in my searches. Now, I’ve received a good amount of concerns over the years that Momotaro not speaking proper English is either racist or babyish...or both. Is my take too depressing? There are often times I think yes, and feel unbelievable shame over it despite others going hard on the angst train.

WHAT INSPIRED YOU TO RP YOUR MUSE?  —  Well uh, I believe I was charmed by his rugged but baby appearance in the game..and it just so happen at the time that I was part of a budding rp group. Despite the theme being mostly “OUENDAN”, that was the start of me shoving Momotaro into every fuckin’ thing because he’s cute as shit and obscure muses can be fun too! It was also probably relaxing for me because gosh dang back then I was scared of getting something wrong about someone canon with more lore...and I am still scared about that to this day.

WHAT KEEPS YOUR INSPIRATION GOING?  —  Studying about Japanese culture, learning the language...the fact that I’ve been rping him for almost 10 years (read like 8-9 at this point)...I do wonder if I should stop rping him...and then I keep hearing that people only want characters only in as fighters, fighters are the only important thing about smash and that grows my weird spite and just continue this “backstage” plot of Smash. Yes, getting a franchise in as a fighter is a VERY high commemoration but, I think it’s just as equally amazing when a franchise gets in as an assist trophy or even a spirit/trophy! So yeah it’s petty and I better find some other motivation soon because it’s exhausting.

SOME MORE PERSONAL QUESTIONS FOR THE MUN.

give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

do you think you give your character justice?  yes / NO / I SINCERELY HOPE I DO? [ Ahaha....I’m starting to give up on that idea at this point, as several noted that Momotaro isn’t as timid in canon as I write him. But I do try to keep those boneheaded traits of the peach boy in my portrayal. ]

do you frequently write headcanons?  YES / NO / SORT OF? [ It’s a must for Momotaro, whose game is a tribute to how the old timey arcade games didn’t have much to their plots. Otherwise, I would think that playing him would end up pretty dry..whether I play him closer to canon or not. ]

do you sometimes write drabbles?  YES / NO [ ...I should write more. ]

do you think a lot about your muse during the day? YES / NO [ Stupidly yes. Been playing him for 8 years so it’s a hard habit to break. ]

are you confident in your portrayal? YES / NO / SORT OF? [ I mean, if I wasn’t confident enough I would’ve dropped him...though I have thought about that several times. There be times where I run into some sort of writer’s block due to his meek (and traumatized) nature, and because of how he speaks, it’s scary. Am I pushing his issues too much...? Or just HIM in general...? ]

are you confident in your writing?  YES / NO. [ Again, writer block happens when some muses don’t click, or personally I don’t want to interact with someone. And then when I do want to write with someone, I fear that my simpler (children’s book) ways of writing would be a turn off. I don’t want to end up babbling too long that there’s too much detail but I shudder at seeing single lines in response to long prose. ]

are you a sensitive person?  YES / NO. / sorta. [ Yeaaaah i get stressed and cry at lot at confrontation and just...anxiety in general. Been trying to keep that off the dash though, as I’m sure peeps got their own troubles already. DMs are good to have y’all. ]

DO YOU ACCEPT CRITICISM WELL ABOUT YOUR PORTRAYAL?  —  I do my best to take crits when I get them but sometimes it just haunts me because I have mixed feelings on being told that the way he speaks is racist or childish.  But hey, if you got more advice on how to write trauma and special needs, I’m all ears! Particularly because I’m writing from my own experience in my life and research. ...Dad isn’t that superb at speaking English and that's where I got the Momo speak.

DO YOU LIKE QUESTIONS, WHICH HELP YOU EXPLORE YOUR CHARACTER?  —  Yes please...but at this point I kinda have sadly accepted that’s just gonna be rare because he’s obscure.

IF SOMEONE DISAGREES TO A HEADCANON OF YOURS, DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY?  —  as my take on Momotaro is very meek, I’d like to see how one would take  on a more confident/more canon true take on him. But that’s a pipe dream. Coruse the only headcanon I will never take (that I fear the fandom will have due to perverted nature) is that he’s just a fuckin harem protag wanting to get into pants. To that I say: NO. In canon he doesn’t give a fuck about the fact his teammates are girls...or even acknowledges that they're girls. It’s the time to survive, not boogie on beds...or at a tree.

IF SOMEONE DISAGREES WITH YOUR PORTRAYAL, HOW WOULD YOU TAKE IT?  — I anticipate that wholly because again, I have gotten comments that my take on Momotaro has not properly prepared them to witness the sheer destruction and toughness that is canontaro. Honestly I’d be hyped to see more takes...except for the harem route ones. Am I gonna jinx myself for saying it that much?

IF SOMEONE REALLY HATES YOUR CHARACTER, HOW DO YOU TAKE IT?  —  I probably would be sad but understanding...I mean it’s not the first time that someone has taken deep offense at Momo and me, mainly in the rp sense. I would hope they would at least go find something that makes them happy.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH PEOPLE POINTING OUT YOUR GRAMMATICAL ERRORS?  —  Yep yep. Or well stealth editing too, that helps.

DO YOU THINK YOU ARE EASY GOING AS A MUN?   —  Ehhhh....maybe...? I mean most think I’m chill but, I’m a ball of anxiety at times. But, I am also one who reaches out because, gosh dang...a lot of peeps are nervous beans and that’s okay. So...it’s a sort of, yeah.

[entwinedmoon]

John Torrington: Totally Stoked

(Previous posts 1, 2, 3)

Since Torrington isn’t in the 1841 census, we don’t know what he was up to in between being born and sailing into the Arctic. That’s kind of a big gap. We can make guesses, of course, but we need facts to base them on.

What’s a fact we know about Torrington’s adulthood and occupation? He was the leading stoker on HMS Terror during the Franklin Expedition. But how did he get that job?

According to The Queen's Regulations for the Government of Her Majesty's Naval Service:

“He may recommend to the Admiralty, for the rating of Leading Stoker, such Stokers as he shall have good reason to consider deserving of, and qualified for, the situation on account of steady conduct, experience in Stoking, and superior ability in conducting it. In the event of any man proving unfit for, or unworthy of, the rating, he is to disrate him, reporting the same to the Admiralty, or his Commander-in-Chief, if under orders of such superior Officer, and noting the same in his return of Punishments.”

This sounds pretty straight forward. In order to be made a leading stoker, you have to have done some stoking, and done it well. Whatever Torrington did prior to joining the expedition must have involved stoking or something similar.

First, let’s establish something—a stoker is someone who tends to the fire of a boiler or steam engine. They are referred to as firemen in some professions, such as railway workers. If something was steam-powered, you’d need a stoker to shovel coal and keep the fire going. The job involved exhausting physical labor, so you’d have to be in good shape for that kind of job.

Torrington was a first-entry, so he didn’t get his stoking credentials from the Royal Navy, because he’d never worked for them prior to joining the Franklin Expedition. The obvious alternative would be that he worked as a stoker/fireman for the merchant navy. Is there a way to find out if he worked for the merchant navy?

Registers of merchant seamen were kept from 1835-1857, which matches up nicely with the time Torrington may have started working at sea. The National Archives in the UK have those registers, and you can search them online at findmypast.co.uk. There’s also an index of apprentices who served in the merchant navy, available to search on Ancestry. I searched both online archives and what did I find?

Nothing.

Now, that doesn’t mean Torrington didn’t work for the merchant navy. It’s possible his records didn’t survive. Or maybe he somehow managed to not get registered, despite the Merchant Shipping Act of 1835 that required him to be. The lack of records doesn’t mean a definitive no, but it’s not exactly a point in favor either.

If he didn’t get his experience at sea, Torrington may have earned his stoking skills on land. The steam engines HMS Terror and HMS Erebus were outfitted with were old locomotive engines. If Torrington had worked for the railway as a stoker, he would’ve been the perfect candidate since he already had experience with that type of engine. The National Archives has employment records for railway workers, too, and they can be searched on Ancestry. Was Torrington in there?

Nope.

Now, again, not all records have survived, and the archives only have comprehensive records for larger railway companies. If Torrington worked for a smaller company, his records may not be there. So again, not a no but not a yes. I could potentially have better luck if I went to the archives myself and searched certain records, but there’s that pesky ocean in my way.

Okay, so we can’t establish either way if Torrington worked for the merchant navy or the railway, but it’s possible he didn’t. If he didn’t work for either of them, then how else might he have gotten his stoke on?

Well, there was another major industry that used steam engines, and it was in his own backyard. Manchester didn’t earn its nickname of Cottonopolis because they were just that good at spinning by hand. The cotton mills that spewed forth the thick coal-dust-infused air that Engels complained about ran on steam power. Torrington could have been a boiler attendant, stoking it up for the cotton industry. Unfortunately, there’s no central archive or database where I can search online for cotton mill employment records. I would have to look into the various mills that operated in Manchester and track down the records for the different companies one by one, probably having to visit the archives in person. And that’s assuming the records from those companies have survived.

For now, I’ll just have to assume Torrington came by his experience somewhere, somehow. But if Torrington wasn’t experienced in stoking—like say, he worked as a cotton piecer like his stepbrothers and not as a stoker or equivalent—then the man to blame for his winding up as leading stoker without knowing which way to point the shovel would be Commander James Fitzjames, second-in-command of HMS Erebus and third-in-charge of the entire expedition.

Fitzjames was the man responsible for picking the crew of the expedition, and some historians have criticized his choices, saying that he didn’t pick enough Arctic veterans, preferring instead his own friends and colleagues. I don’t know if Fitzjames made the best decisions in who he chose or not, and I’m not going to jump into that argument right now. But knowing the criteria Fitzjames used to select the crew would give us an insight into why Torrington was chosen. Was he the best for the job, or did Fitzjames just like the cut of his jib? We just don’t know.

But we do know there were some last-minute changes concerning the selection of stokers.

The steam engines the ships were fitted with weren’t going to win any races, and apparently there were some issues during the test runs before they set sail. The late William Battersby described some of the troubles in the lead up to the expedition’s departure in his book James Fitzjames: The Mystery Man of the Franklin Expedition. According to him, after an unsatisfactory test of the engines in the last week or so before leaving, a first-class engineer and a leading stoker were deemed necessary for each ship.

This test, or perhaps a prior one, also seems to have inspired the promotion of two able seamen to stoker—John Cowie from Erebus was promoted May 6, and Luke Smith from Terror was promoted on May 10. Prior to Luke’s promotion, Terror only had one stoker, William Johnson. Torrington, one of the last-minute leading stokers, wouldn’t join the crew until May 12, the same day the ships sailed down river from Woolwich to Greenhithe for final preparations.

Was Torrington chosen by Fitzjames out of desperation, because they were due to leave in a week, or had he been under consideration before for his spectacular stoking skills? What made Torrington stand out from the crowd? That’s one of the many things that we’ll probably never know. Just like we’ll also never know why Torrington left Manchester to go on an Arctic expedition—although, if the conditions in Manchester were as bad as Engels said they were, who could blame him?

When Torrington signed up for that fateful trip, he left behind two of the only records that mention him prior to his death. The Muster and Allotment books mostly give information such as the date he joined the navy and when he came aboard ship—the same day for both, May 12—as well as his pay information (and of course, my favorite, his signature). We know he allotted part of his pay to his stepmother Mary because he was a good boy. A very good boy, apparently, because he gave her more than half his pay, since he earned £4. 12s in summer and only £3. 8s in winter, but he allotted Mary £2. 16s.

He also gave the address for where Mary lived, except that the records show one address crossed out and another written overtop. That means Torrington forgot his mother’s address—which was probably also his own address. I like to give him the benefit of the doubt and think they had recently moved, so he’d given the old address on automatic. Who hasn’t done that? Of course, it’s also possible that he didn’t live with his parents anymore and the first address was his address, and then he realized they were asking for his mother’s instead. Either way, both addresses were on Oxford Street in Manchester, the crossed-out address being at 4 Grey’s Buildings and the other address at 33 Little James Street. I’ve tried looking for those exact addresses on old maps, but I haven’t found either one. They must have been small side streets or something not important enough to make it onto the maps.

We know he also received three months of pay in advance—and double pay, at that. Maybe he signed up for the money, because it may have been more than whatever he was earning before. Unfortunately, some of that pay went toward providing himself with slops and bedding. He also paid for soap but not tobacco. Most of the men on the same Muster page were charged for tobacco, rather than soap. Either Torrington didn’t use tobacco, which would be unusual back then, or he’d brought tobacco with him but not soap (gotta love those priorities).

Once Torrington was signed up—filling out the all right addresses and misjudging how well his name would fit on things—he set sail on May 19, aboard HMS Terror, heading into the unknown. As a stoker, he probably dived straight into keeping that engine warm, shoveling coal and all that good stuff, right?

Not exactly.

Franklin’s ships were only equipped with enough coal for twelve days of engine use. The engines were only meant to be used in case of emergency, such as if they had to force their way through the ice. Coal seemed to also be used for the cooking stoves, which doubled as heaters for the ships, but whether or not Torrington attended to the stoves or if the cook did, I have no idea. That means Torrington may have been hired to stoke but didn’t actually get a chance to. And once the ships were hunkered down for the winter, the engines definitely weren’t in use—in fact, stokers received less pay in the winter for that very reason.

But if Torrington didn’t stoke much if at all during the expedition, what did he do with his time? His rank of leading stoker made him a petty officer, which is basically just a seaman with a specialization. He was not an officer officer, just an ordinary sailor with a particular trade on the ship. But petty officers did have some additional duties. He probably was assigned to a watch at the very least, but my knowledge of Victorian era Royal Navy protocol could charitably be described as in progress, so I can’t be sure what sort of things he may have done outside of stoking.

Without main duties to attend to, were the stokers seen as idle, since their purpose for being there was rarely required? What did the rest of the crew think of stokers such as Torrington? Were they envied or derided?

We can’t be sure, but we do know there was someone on board HMS Terror who was not a fan of steam engines—the ship’s captain, Francis Crozier.

Crozier wrote a letter to his good friend James Clark Ross about his first couple of months on the expedition. The letter was sent to England from Greenland, where the ships stayed briefly before heading toward Lancaster Sound. Crozier didn’t bother hiding his feelings toward having a steam engine on board:

“Now I do wish the engine was again on the Dover line and the engineer sitting on the top of it, he is [a] dead and alive wretch full of difficulties and is now quite dissatisfied because he has not the leading stoker to assist him in doing nothing as on board Erebus.”

Crozier clearly hated the engine being there, probably because it was new and different and it wasn’t that great anyway, an attitude many of us take toward new technology we don’t understand as we get older. He also didn’t seem to care much for James Thompson, Terror’s engineer. I imagine the engine department crew of Thompson, Johnson, Smith, and Torrington attorneys at law were not his favorite. But what stood out for me was the mention of leading stoker. Torrington was Terror’s leading stoker, so this has to be referring to him, but what does Crozier mean by “he has not the leading stoker to assist him”?

Torrington was still alive and well—or at least, well enough to stay on the ship at this point. Other crewmen had been sent home by then. In fact, Crozier had just mentioned the men sent home earlier in his letter. If Torrington were too sick to work at this point, surely he would have been sent back to England with the others. So why wasn’t he available to help Thompson with his nothing?

Note the comparison to Erebus. Apparently, the leading stoker on Erebus was giving all he got to do nothing with the engineer. Did Crozier have the stokers performing other duties, ones that weren’t being done on Erebus? Was he running drills for when they needed the engine? According to May Fluhman in her biography of Crozier, Second in Command, it was Crozier who ordered the test runs be performed before sailing from England. Perhaps he was continuing his tests and preparations to ensure they would get the best out of the engines when they were finally put to use. This could have kept Torrington and his fellow stokers on Terror busy. Or maybe Crozier couldn’t abide an idle sailor and had the stokers assigned to other duties until needed in engineering.

But even if Crozier was trying to keep them busy, it seems Torrington wasn’t doing much of anything in his last few months, judging by the lack of calluses on his hands. Whether this was due to having nothing to do during the winter when the ships were frozen in or because he was no longer able to perform his duties is unclear. But what we do know is this: just over seven months into the expedition, John Torrington died on January 1, 1846.

Next: His death, his exhumation, and the autopsy that changed the debate over how the Franklin Expedition met its fate.

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Torrington Series Masterlist

[aheavenofhell]

Shooting Stars

dedicated to and inspired by @mindsummerdream

The thing about being an astronomer is, you don't get much, well, face to face contact in your profession. That is to say, though Crowley can gaze at the stars from afar, he has never had the opportunity to actually look at one—to touch it, feel it, look at it up close. So when the London Center of Space Exploration writes him an email describing an asteroid that they think will hit Shaftesbury, and they want him to go and take samples, he is, of course, ecstatic. Normally, geologists do the collecting bit, but apparently a professor at the Center had read a rather reputable paper by A J Crowley and had decided he would be exactly the man for the job. Crowley couldn't possibly disagree. A shooting star is, of course, not really a star. It is actually tiny bits of dust and rock called meteoroids, that, when spiraling into Earth's atmosphere, begins to burn. If anything survives the flames and hits earth—that is what we call meteorites. The flames are what cause the fantastic streaks of light that spin through the sky. Why does this happen? Sometimes, as the Earth orbits the Sun, it passes through debris left by a comet. This causes a meteor shower. Of course, Crowley is after an asteroid, which is like a much bigger version of a meteorite. Crowley had watched many meteor showers, but had never actually come in contact with one. He didn't have any type of proper geological sampling tools, so he settled on taking gloves and plastic bags and a sharpie, for labeling the bags. Oh, and a bottle of Loire Rose. He preferred dark, dry wine for special occasions, and it would be a celebration, of course. The professor on the phone had warned him specifically not to go to the area during the shower, but he dutifully ignored that and took a train to Shaftesbury the next morning. He shacked up in a nice local inn for the night, where he spent most of his time methodically looking over the pictures that determined the asteroid's orbit and descent. Exactly where it was going to hit was sketchy at best, but Crowley had a sort of sixth sense about this one. He wouldn't know if he was right until the next evening. He packed up his backpack of essentials, grabbed his smallest telescope, and started his trek. Shaftesbury was a rural town, small, quaint. Crowley preferred London's bustle and noise, but he could appreciate places like this—places where the light of the city didn't drown out the lights in the sky. It was an excellent place to set up a telescope and wile the night away. Of course, he would've liked to have someone to do it with. Got a bit. . .odd. Just talking to yourself about things. He would like to have a pair of eager ears once in a while, someone else who saw the same beauty in the universe he did. Oh well. Maybe someday. For now, he focused on where his astronomy-senses were taking him. He ended up in a large, empty field. It would be very nice if the asteroid were to land there, because it would make finding all the pieces much easier. Crowley sat down in the grass, opened his bottle of wine, and waited. For maybe an hour, he sat, just drinking and watching. He never lost his sense of childish wonder when it came to space—every time he looked up, he still felt that same sense of excitement and curiosity. What's up there? Will I ever see it? He was about to. It came streaking through the sky at exactly 12:34 AM. Crowley knew, because as it did he scrambled to check his watch and write the time down before watching in amazement as it soared just over the treeline, the light dying as it fell. He gathered up his things and ran in the direction it had gone. He wasn't too far off, because it ended up only being about a two kilometers away. Of course, two kilometers feels a bit longer when it is night time and there are mosquitoes about and the terrain is rough. Still, not too shabby. He brandished his flashlight as he swept the landscape, hunting for the crater. There it was. Big! Much bigger than he thought it would be! He felt a fresh wave of excitement wash over him. Cautiously, he approached the crater—all organic matter left would certainly be hot. But he could, at least, look at it. He got to the edge, shined his flashlight down, and— There was no asteroid at all. There was a man. There are several reasons Crowley found this extremely disconcerting: 1. A lack of asteroid was, admittedly, very disappointing. 2. The man was not burning himself alive, somehow. 3. The man was glowing. “Hello?!” Crowley yelped, because it was the only thing he could think to say. “Erm, hello!” the man in the crater said. “I seem to have made a bit of a mistake. Oh dear, this is very embarrassing. Gabriel will not be happy with me—“ “Isn't it hot down there?” Crowley asked, deciding that the best way to handle this would be to roll with it. “It's a bit toasty, just comfortable, I'd say. Oh no! Now this is a problem.” This is where Crowley was doubly confused. He was almost as confused as the first time he'd used an ATM. Because the man had just stretched out a feathered wing from his own back. And it looked. . .not good. The bird-man flinched as he attempted to flex it. It was bent all the wrong way. “That's a wing,” Crowley said stupidly. “It's a problem,” bird-man agreed. He climbed out of the hole. “I'm sorry, I don't think I properly introduced myself. I'm Aziraphale.” He stuck out his hand. Crowley, dumbfounded, shook it. “Crowley,” he said. “And, ehm, what exactly. . .are you?” “Oh yes. I'm an angel, a Principality, to be precise. I was popping over here for a visit, they have the best fish'n chips here, you know, and I must have hit something—“ “So wait.” Crowley held up his hands to pause him. “You're an angel. Like, a supernatural entity that fell from the sky.” “Just the sort.” Aziraphale smiled. It was a bit adorable. “And now your wing's injured,” Crowley added as an afterthought. “And I have no asteroid to bring back to London.” The angel frowned. “I was mistaken for an asteroid? So you're some sort of scientist, then?” “An astronomer,” Crowley clarified, a bit bitterly. Now wasn't really the time to be petty, but, well—he'd wanted his rock. Aziraphale wrung his hands. “Do you think, that, perhaps—“ he licked his lips, “—perhaps I could accompany you, back to London? I could even miracle us there, so you needn't pay for a ticket home. Just—you know, until I fix my wing.” Crowley stared at him. “You want to stay at my flat?” “You seem like a very nice human, and I'm in a rather tight spot. You see, I was already reprimanded last week over an incident with a dead cat that came back to life a bit too suspiciously—“ “You, an angel, want to stay at my flat because—because you don't want to get in trouble with. . .?” “Gabriel. Archangel. Big deal, you know.” Crowley put a hand to his forehead. Maybe he'd had a bit too much to drink. The angel was giving him an awfully pleading look, though. And his wing did look all bent and pathetic. . .and he did come here to bring back a shooting star. “Fine,” he said. What could go wrong? When Crowley woke up in his flat, a tad hungover and definitely spotty, his first thought was that he'd had a very bizarre dream. Then he heard someone humming in the kitchen. He leaped out of bed, silently hoping it was some sort of burglar, and crept into the kitchen. Nope. It was Aziraphale. He had cooked a rather nice looking breakfast, and made tea, and was now quietly humming “Water Music” and reading in a chair Crowley knew he didn't have before. “How'd you do all this?” Crowley asked, rummaging around for some aspirin and seltzer. “Good morning,” Aziraphale said, looking up in surprise. “I went shopping—your fridge and cabinets are rather barren, you know, and thought you might enjoy a spot of breakfast.” Crowley raised his eyebrows. “I meant, how did we get back here?” “Oh! A small miracle—literally. I just sort of—wished us back.” Crowley decided that was enough information for now. “How's the wing?” he asked. Wincing, the angel stretched it out. It looked worse than before. Crowley tentatively touched it, and Aziraphale immediately flinched. “It will heal,” the angel muttered. “Want an aspirin?” Crowley said, in an attempt to be helpful. “That's very kind, dear boy, but I think some rest will be the best medicine.” Crowley shrugged, and found very suddenly that his hangover was cured. Maybe having an angel around wouldn't be so bad. For the next week, Crowley got to know Aziraphale a bit. His habits were niche, but not peculiar. He seemed to enjoy books, and food, and classical music. He often invited Crowley to dine out, as a sort of payment for letting him stay, and his taste in restaurants was admittedly excellent. Crowley often found him pouring over an old tome or making notes beside one. By the end of the week, they had fallen into a sort of comfortable pattern—they were very compatible flatmates (a rare thing indeed) and Crowley found he was actually enjoying the angel's company. He told Professor Knox that the asteroid was simply a no-show, a mistake, and went back to going to the Observatory and studying there. One evening, Aziraphale even went with him, eager to “learn something new” and perhaps even “spot that one that Uriel said looked like him”. Crowley thought it would be annoying, but. . .Aziraphale actually listened to him. He genuinely seemed to find what Crowley was saying interesting, and made comments and asked questions. By the end of the night, Crowley had smiled and laughed more times than he had in years. But the angel couldn't stay forever. His wing was healing—it got worse first, but then gradually began to heal. Angels heal faster than humans, and Crowley suspected that Aziraphale's wing had already healed a while ago. But he was just as reluctant to leave as Crowley was to let him go. “Perhaps we should talk,” the angel quietly said one night. They sat down, facing each other, and Aziraphale suddenly looked quite sad, and Crowley knew what was about to come. Aziraphale managed to meet his eyes, and smile a bit. “My wing is healed,” he said softly. “I want to thank you—for everything. You've truly been gener—“ “Right, yeah,” Crowley said, words a bit thick. “'S no problem.” Aziraphale smiled. “Well, as a thank you, of sorts—I had something arranged.” He handed Crowley a scroll. Crowley went to unravel it, but Aziraphale stopped him. “After I leave,” he explained. Crowley nodded. “Well, erm, good luck,” he said. “Back up there, Hope you don't get in any trouble.” “Thank you, dear fellow. And good luck to you here. Perhaps I could. . .visit.” They shook hands, and Crowley tried his best not to cry, or kiss him, or cry. “Right. Goodbye.”   And the angel was gone. It took Crowley a few moments to gather himself before he could properly examine the scroll. He swallowed, turning it over in his hands. It had a lovely red ribbon around it. Gingerly, he untied the bow and let the paper unravel. It read, in very elegant handwriting, like this: Anthony J Crowley, In the Name of Heaven Itself, I, Principality Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate, dub you Saint of Astronomy. May the stars glimmer in your honor. Aziraphale got back to Heaven, and found it a bit empty. “Sorry I'm late,” he told Gabriel, even though time didn't actually exist there. “Aziraphale. How is “earth” doing?” “Good, good.” He walked around for a bit, feeling strangely saddened. He wondered if Crowley was reading his letter—if he liked it. He found himself thinking about the human for a very long time. I think I must have left something in his flat, he thought hopefully. Maybe. . .my first edition copy of Dorian Gray? Now I can't have that going missing. . . “I left something, I'll be right back!” he squeaked suddenly to Gabriel. “Aziraphale—“ He disappeared. “Crowley! Are you still here? I—“ He was interrupted as a certain saint yanked him into a kiss. Oh, he thought. I think I could get used to this.