#finals and then I can draw awesome pictures and spend all day outside and not even THINK about the yalta convention or whatever the fuck

[spacespore]

I’m no longer fatherless this time traveling alien is now my dad

[earliebirb]

nosedive

steve/tony, fluff, (newly) established relationship, 3250 words

Tony stares absentmindedly out the airplane window as he puts his phone up to his ear, watching people run back and forth, performing last-minute engine checks. Some of the guys look sweaty and out of breath.

From the comfort of the air-conditioned Stark Industries private jet, he feels a slight twinge of sympathy for the people having to suffer in the humid summer heat.

He loosens his tie and sinks deeply into his seat, closing his eyes with a massive yawn as he listens to the ringing tone. He hadn’t been able to sleep very well throughout his five-day stay in Tokyo, too anxious about the contract to rest properly. 

The ringing tone goes on for a few more seconds before ending with a click, replaced by an achingly familiar voice greeting him in his ear. 

“Hello?” 

Tony’s eyes spring open. Outside, an aircraft marshaller walks by, speaking rapidly into his walkie-talkie.

“I had a blueberry muffin for lunch today. One single blueberry muffin.”

“...What?”

“It didn’t even taste that good. I couldn’t finish it. Too dry.”

“Tony, that’s not good. Is that all you had for lunch? You should really eat—”

“The meeting went well, by the way. Mr. Watanabe finally signed the contract, everything went as planned. My ride to the airport, however…”

“I told you things would go smoothly, you had nothing to worry about. You’re a brilliant negotiator—”

“The traffic? Fuck. I had to keep shifting in my seat to avoid pins and needles.”

“That sounds awful, are your legs okay—”

“Did you know that Tokyo is number nineteen on the list of cities with the worst traffic congestion in the world? I know that, because I looked it up on the way to the airport. But boy, did it feel like it deserved the number one spot. I think I lost feeling in my ass.”

“I did not know that. And, uh, is your ass okay—”

“Thank God for my private jet. These plush seats are the best things I’ve ever spent my money on.”

“That’s objectively not true, and you know it—”

“Then again, I think these seats in particular were Pepper’s choice? We remodeled the airplane’s interior like… two years ago. I couldn’t be bothered to meet with the airplane seat people and I just told her to pick whichever looked best. I had much more important things to tend to, like sewing up the holes in JARVIS’s Christmas stocking.”

“I am concerned about how you sort your list of priorities—”

“Hm, that’s right. I think it was around two, three weeks before Christmas and I didn’t want JARVIS to be upset about the whole stocking thing, you know?”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t have—”

“Also, you’re right, the single blueberry muffin was a bad idea because now my stomach won’t shut up. So I’ve ordered some pasta for my in-flight meal. Robbie’s making it, you’ve met Robbie—”

“I’ve met Robbie, yes, he’s—”

“Larry’s replacement after he resigned. Gotta say, I was sad to see Larry go. Guy worked for me for seven years. But then there was that thing with his grandma, and he had to leave, so… But! Robbie makes a mean carbonara, maybe even better than Larry, don’t tell Larry I said that—”

“I don’t even know Larry like that, how would I—”

“Mr. Stark, we’re ready to go.” The pilot—Paul—emerges from the cockpit, staring at him in anticipation.

Tony nods and makes a few rapid gestures with his free hand that he supposes Paul is only able to interpret perfectly after years and years of working for Tony. The gestures roughly translate to something like “Copy, I hear you, just let me wrap this up and then I’ll let you know when I’m done. Capiche?”

Paul—bless him—just gives him a curt nod and retreats back into the cockpit. 

“Anyway,” Tony takes a deep breath and puffs his cheeks out with the exertion of his exhale, “I called because… I got a feeling, Steve.”

“A… feeling?”

“Just— A gut feeling. A feeling in your gut. Inside of me. Like a hunch?”

“Okay,” Steve says patiently, his voice low and warm, “what are you feeling?”

“I… got a bad feeling. Today. A few hours ago. The feeling came to me when I was sitting in traffic, and I just— I feel like something bad’s gonna happen today, Steve. I can feel it in the air. In my heart. In my gut. In my joints.”

“Your joints? Like… the feeling old people get when it’s about to rain?”

“Okay, maybe not in my joints. Also, are you calling me old, grandpa?”

“I did not, you told me you felt something in your—”

“Anyway, so yeah. Where was I? Oh, right. Feeling. Bad feeling. Like, like, I don’t know, something bad’s gonna happen. Like an accident. Like a plane crash.”

“God, please don’t say that. You’re scaring me, Tony.”

“And I guess, I just called because I… I feel like I need to do this before the plane crashes and I die a violent and fiery death.”

“Nothing bad’s going to happen, Tony—”

“Like, if I didn’t do this today, maybe I’d never get to do it, you know? And, uh, okay, I’ve honestly been ranting to stall for time, but the longer I keep it in the more nauseous I feel, so maybe I’m just gonna do it now so I can die in peace—”

“Do what? And stop saying that—”

“Look, I’m trying to be brave and honest here and— Wait, actually? Maybe I’m being a coward because if the plane actually does go down, I won’t have to face the consequences of my actions, so I guess I’m just going to say fuck it, and say that I love you.”

“The plane is not going to— Wait, what?”

“I, uh. Love you. I’ve known it for a while now. And, uh, I know we’ve only been dating for like, a week, but—” Tony blinks. They’ve only been dating for a week. 

“...Fuck.” Tony can feel his own pulse starting to race. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Tony?”

They’ve only been dating for a week. What is he doing? What the hell is wrong with him? Normal people don’t do this. 

“Fuck. Shit, I mean— Uh, I’m sorry. That was super weird, huh?” Tony laughs nervously. He closes his eyes, gritting his teeth and cursing his stupid brain. Of course it’s weird. He always gets too attached to people way too quickly. No wonder Pepper was his only long term relationship. She was the only person who could put up with him—everyone else just got weirded out. “Uh, see you tomorrow? Or not. Fuck, sorry, I’m just gonna hang up before this gets—”

“Tony, wait.”

“...Yeah?” Tony says, hyper-aware of how breathless he sounds. His heartbeat is ringing in his ears. Everything is going to be fine. Right? Right. The worst thing Steve could do is… break up with him.

Oh, God, that is the worst case scenario. He really should’ve just kept his stupid mouth shut. 

“Tony, are you freaking out? I feel like I can hear you freaking out from all the way over here.”

“No, I’m not, of course I’m not. Who says I’m freaking out? You have no proof. I am calm, I’m calm as a clam, is that the saying? Did I get it right? Or was it happy— Anyway, I am absolutely calm, I’m the calmest I could possibly be. Any calmer and I’d be asleep. I’m—”

“Tony. Breathe.”

Tony forces himself to drag in a slow breath as he grips the arm of his seat with his free hand, focusing on the soothing hum of the airplane’s engine.

“Look, Tony, I—”

“No, listen. I’m sorry I jumped the gun, I hope I haven’t weirded you out or anything. You really, really don’t have to say it back to me. I mean it.”

“Tony—”

“No, in fact— Please don’t say anything. It’s fine. Let’s just pretend this never happened, okay?”

“But—”

“Drop it, Steve. Please?” Tony pleads. Clearly, his brain hadn’t been firing on all cylinders. That is the only reason that could explain his temporary lapse of judgment. “Look, I feel like talking about it more right now is going to send me spiraling into a panic attack.”

“...Okay. Fine.”

“Thank you. Uh, I’ll see you when I get home. If I get home. If the plane doesn’t crash. Haha.”

“Would you please stop saying that? It’s not funny.”

Tony latches onto the change in topic like a lifeline. “It is objectively true, you know. In order for me to be able to see you tomorrow, the plane has to land safely, and unfortunately, some things are just beyond my control. Like, who’s to say the plane won’t explode mid-air and—”

“The plane is going to land safely and you’re going to come back home to me in one piece. This is non-negotiable, Tony. You hear me?” Steve demands, his voice all hard authority and no-nonsense, like there will be Consequences should Tony fail to comply. 

As if he could ensure Tony’s safety with the force of his willpower alone. 

Come back home to me. 

That sounds good. Really good. Tony closes his eyes and pictures Steve’s baby blues in his mind’s eye. Warmth flowers in his chest.

“I hear you.”

“Great.”

“Awesome. I, uh, I gotta go now.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow.”

“See you.”

Tony hangs up and lets Paul know that he is done with his phone call. The jittery feeling left over from his call with Steve refuses to leave him, however, so he pulls up the drawing application on his phone and begins sketching something just to give his brain something else to fixate on.

He tends to lose track of time when he is hyperfocused on a project, so he isn’t exactly surprised that the next time he becomes aware of his surroundings, the plane is already well up in the air, his sketch of what looks like a flying coffee pot is almost finished, and Robbie is placing a plate of spaghetti carbonara on the table in front of him. 

“Spaghetti carbonara. With extra cheese.”

Tony’s mouth waters as he eyes the mountain of grated Pecorino Romano sitting atop the pasta. He sighs dreamily and smiles up at Robbie.

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“Enjoy, Boss.” Robbie grins and slips back into the kitchen.

He only realizes just how truly famished he is after taking his first bite, and proceeds to finish the rest of his meal with gusto. Afterward, he spends the majority of the remaining flight time sleeping, the result of post-carbonara food coma and his sleep-deprivation finally catching up to him. 

It’s well past two in the morning when Tony finally makes it to his floor in the Tower, which is why he is surprised to see Steve sitting on his couch, one of Tony’s fantasy novels open in hand. 

“Steve, what are you doing here?”

Steve’s head snaps up at the sound of his voice. Tony frowns. “Actually, why are you awake at all?” He is usually an early sleeper, unless—

“Nightmare?” Tony gives him a sympathetic smile. It wouldn’t be the first time. In the early days of their friendship, Tony and Steve would sit together in the living room whenever they had trouble sleeping, talking to each other until the sun came up.

Steve shakes his head, closing the book with his eyes still trained on Tony. “No, I was just… waiting for you.” Tony blinks. 

“It’s…” Tony glances at his watch. “Half past two. In the morning.”

“I know, I just…” Steve stands up, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. He ambles over before coming to a stop right in front of Tony. “I wanted to see you.”

Tony stares at him uncomprehendingly. “You’ll see me later anyway.”

“I couldn’t wait any longer. I didn’t want to go to sleep without seeing you first,” Steve says, low and earnest. His gaze wanders around Tony’s face, as if he were cataloguing each and every facial feature and trying to locate any changes he might’ve missed during his absence.

“Oh.”

Steve steps closer, arms snaking around Tony’s waist and pulling him close. His next words are whispered against Tony’s shoulder.

“I knew you’d make it home safely.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“You were wrong.”

“I was… wrong.” Tony swallows. “Uh, turns out the bad feeling completely disappeared after I woke up from my nap on the plane, so I suspect that perhaps the bad feeling I got was due to my severe hunger and sleep deprivation. I mean, I’ve heard about hallucinations caused by hunger or exhaustion, but this was—” 

Steve presses a soft kiss to the column of Tony’s neck, effectively cutting off Tony’s ramblings.

“Tony,” Steve whispers against his skin.

“Yeah?” Tony squeaks.

“Please don’t call me before a flight and say that you think the plane is going to crash, ever again.”

“Right. Noted. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Steve says, pulling away slightly and loosening his hold around Tony.

Tony allows himself to relax, letting out a quiet sigh. This thing with Steve is so new and delicate that every single physical contact still sends his heart fluttering, butterflies going crazy in his stomach.

Which makes, in retrospect, his abrupt love confession—as truthful as it was—that much more insane. God, Stark. Never do that again.

Except, it turns out that Steve only pulled away to slide his hands down the back of Tony’s thighs, wrapping his hands around them, and then lifting him up without warning.

Tony yelps, and in his alarm, promptly locks his ankles around Steve’s waist. When Steve begins moving, Tony quickly wraps his arms around Steve, resting his chin on Steve’s shoulder.

“Uh, Steve?”

“Hm?” Steve says, calm and nonchalant, as he begins walking away from the elevator. 

“Um— Wait— My suitcase—”

“Leave it. It’ll still be there in the morning.”

Tony blinks, staring dumbfoundedly at his lonely suitcase, abandoned by the elevator. It becomes smaller and smaller with every step Steve takes. 

“Where are we going?”

“Your bedroom.”

“Why are you carrying me there?”

“Because I want to.”

“You know it’ll be faster if you just let me walk, right?”

“Maybe. But you won’t be in my arms.”

“Um.”

“Bear with me, will you? I missed you.”

“I, uh, missed you too.”

Steve hums, satisfied. Tony lets himself settle more comfortably in Steve’s arms.

When Steve has successfully carried him to his bedroom, Tony fully expects Steve to deposit him on the bed. 

That is not, in fact, what happens. 

Instead, Steve turns around and begins walking backwards towards the bed before sitting down on it. Tony, still seated on his lap, swallows and pulls back slightly to look at Steve. 

“Look, Steve, as much as I’ve missed you, I’m kind of tired right now. I mean, don’t get me wrong. This whole carrying thing? Great. Very romantic. Ten out of ten. But I’m just not in the mood for sex, you know? Like, I’m not even sure I would be able to get it up if—”

“We’re not going to have sex.”

Tony blinks.

“We’re not?”

“We’re not. I’m just here to tuck you in.”

“Oh.”

Steve reaches up and begins undoing his tie. After setting it aside on the bed, he begins to unbutton Tony’s shirt. He takes his time, one button at a time.

“So…” Steve begins with a deep breath as he unbuttons the final button. “Did you mean, uh, what you said to me? On the phone?”

Tony closes his eyes, feels his own cheeks heating up. “Steve—”

“I’m sorry, Tony, I know you told me to drop it. But— I feel like if you did mean what you said, I owe it to you to… set the records straight.” When Tony opens his eyes again, Steve is looking up at him, blue eyes solemn.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… We have only been together for a week. Well, eight days. In fact, we’ve only been on one date. And it was interrupted. By giant lizards.” Steve chuckles incredulously. 

Tony remembers that day very well. They were in the middle of dessert at Tony’s favorite Italian place when they received the call to assemble—something about giant lizards wreaking havoc in Central Park.

The lizards had green, gunky blood that got into the nooks and crannies of the suit. It had taken forever to clean.

“But Tony…” Steve gathers the material of Tony’s unbuttoned shirt in both of his fists, pulling him closer until their noses are only inches apart.

The second their eyes meet, Steve smiles the sweet, lopsided smile that never fails to make Tony’s stomach flip.

“I need you to know that… I didn’t have to date you to know that I loved you. I figured that a long time ago.”

Tony stills, breath frozen in his lungs.

“I guess, what I’m saying is… I love you too. I’ve loved you for a very long time, Tony. Even way before—” Steve breaks eye contact, looks down as he clears his throat. When he speaks again, his voice is tight. “Way before we got together. I’m talking… years before.”

Tony still finds it hard to breathe. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, the word more breath than sound. He meets Tony’s dazed gaze. “So you don’t have to worry about… jumping the gun. Not with me. I’m in it for the long haul.”

“...Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Good.” Tony feels a lightness growing inside of him, spreading outwards to his extremities.

“Good.” Steve smiles, warm and impossibly fond.

“...Glad we’re on the same page.” Tony’s gaze drops down to Steve’s lips.

“We are.” Steve inches closer, nose brushing Tony’s. He then tilts his head ever so slightly and takes Tony’s lower lip between his, kissing him so tenderly Tony’s heart feels like it’s about to burst with it.

Steve’s warm hands slide up Tony’s naked back under his open shirt, sending goosebumps breaking across his skin. Tony buries his hands in Steve’s hair and relishes the feeling of the soft strands caught between his fingers. They stay caught up in each other for a few moments, capturing and releasing each other’s lips until the need for breath becomes too unbearable.

They break apart eventually, accompanied by soft chuckles. Steve smiles up at him, lips slick and cherry red, courtesy of Tony. He reaches up to caress Tony’s right eyebrow with the pad of his thumb, fleeting and affectionate.

“Get some rest, okay? You must be really tired. I should probably go to bed, too.”

Tony looks down at his lap, clearing his throat. “Uh, I know that we haven’t done this before, but…”

Steve waits patiently for Tony to gather his thoughts, hands stroking up and down Tony’s sides.

“Do you want to stay with me tonight?” Tony finds the courage to meet Steve’s eyes, holding his breath.

Steve’s blue eyes are gazing at him intently, looking at him like he’s the only person in the world worth his sole, undivided attention.

Tony swallows. “No sex. Just to sleep. If you—”

“Yes.”

“Yeah?”

“I would like that very much.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Good.” Tony feels his own lips slowly curve up into a smile, wide and unbridled. 

“Good.” Steve nods, lips twitching, his eyes never leaving Tony’s. 

Tony grins, feeling near giddy with delight. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

“We are, sweetheart.” Steve looks up at him, blue eyes fond and smile radiant. “We definitely are.”

[angelicamerlinbarnes]

Severus Snape being an awesome teacher and human being

Au Volant - Elsa & Emilie

He makes sure to let students work on their own when they brew Amortentia. They only have to pass in a list of things they smell and he draws little smiley faces on them because he knows a lot of kids are very insecure about their feelings. (Once a kid passed in a list that just said, I’m sorry Professor but it doesn’t smell like anything, and on their paper Severus drew an ace and aro flag and a time for the student to be at Mcgonogall’s office that weekend for tea, along with a smiley face and an O grade.) (The student was Newt.) (Hailee’s just read, People are gross and if I fall in love with one I want you to kill me, to which Severus responded, Valid, and drew her a picture of a turtle.)

He makes fake batches of Felix Felicis and gives one to every student secretly before their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s so they feel extra confident going into the test but aren’t actually cheating.

He knows his area is Potions, but he teaches defense spells to students who come after class or report bullying anonymously. Severus Snape does not fucking stand for bullying in his classroom or outside of it. If you dare to pick on one of his students, he will burn you so hard with his mere words that you will wish you were dead. Do not fuck with Severus Snape’s kids.

On parent-teacher day, he drinks different batches of Polyjuice Potion to imitate certain students, all of whom hide away in their dorms after drinking a fine batch of invisibility potion. He then follows these select parents around and endures their horrifying, demeaning remarks about their “failure of a child” so his students don’t have to. He makes sure to give these students glowing praises to their parents when it’s his turn to offer feedback (after making up an excuse to go to the bathroom as the student), and takes mental notes of the parents’ most prominent criticisms so he can be sure to compliment those parts of his students during their next assignments (and also just because).

He brews sleeping potions for students he knows stay up all night studying and sometimes slips it into their drinks if they refuse to take it willingly. He then gives them back their (usually almost flawless) tests with the note that if they want a full O they need to sleep more.

He invites kids he knows don’t have many friends to have dinner and lunch and breakfast in his classroom whenever they’d like. He tries to make friends with some of them too, hoping to make their lives a little less lonely than his was.

He keeps an eye out for abusive home situations. He does his best to come up with excuses for those unfortunate students to stay at Hogwarts over breaks or to visit often over the summer. He tries to find them friends that will help them the way James helped Sirius and Regulus, and speaks to Mcgonogall about opening a home for these kids on campus. He does his best to be the parent he knows these kids don’t have, and is open about his own horrid past in hopes of getting some of them to fess up so he can help them better than he can without hearing it explicitly from their mouths.

He uses his Pensieve to collect happy memories of and for his students to reflect on when they need to and they sit in the corner of his classroom. (Among them are his wedding day to James and Lily, the day Harry was born, a couple playdates with the other Marauder children, Sirius and Remus’ wedding day, studying with Remus, pranking James with Sirius, Sirius and James asleep cuddled together with Remus on the couch in ugly Christmas sweaters, his son and many nieces and nephews playing dress-up, reading with Hermione and exploring with Luna and Newt, dancing with Draco (he likes to dance but was always ashamed to do it at the Malfoys), going on long drives with Regulus, the Blacks’ funeral (Regulus and Sirius performed a very gay stripper dance on top of their graves, it was beautiful), and many, many more.) Sometimes he can see his saddest students watching them and smiling, and their sad eyes twinkling make him smile.

He brings in a box of small kittens, puppies, and bunnies one day and lets them wander around the classroom. Some kids start crying because they haven’t felt this loved in years. After an incident with a bad potion and a rainbow puppy, he stops bringing them all out during class, but they’re there on the weekends and whenever a student needs to hug one (or borrow one, much to Mcgonogall’s chagrin).

He works to break down House biases and help students develop inter-House relationships and friendships. He wants every student to be proud of their House and not to treat anyone differently because of theirs. He creates (with Dumbledore, Sirius, and Regulus’ help) an annual House Pride, in which every student dresses up in their House colors and has their nails and skin painted and everyone is smiling and laughing and waving flags with their House emblems in the air. Even the teachers get in on it.

He stresses the importance of friendships, communication, and choices. He urges students not to make his mistakes by treating their friends well, talking about their feelings even if they’re ugly, and making the right choices in life for you and your loved ones, even if those choices are hard. He invites Lily in to talk about this too sometimes.

He sends out his Patronus every night to wander around the school. Often it comes back to him with nothing, but sometimes he can hear a student crying through it. He’ll instruct his doe to sit with the student until he gets there, and then he’ll walk around the castle, pretending to “accidentally” happen upon the crying student. He’ll sit with them until they’ve calmed down and listen if they want to talk and then take them to their dorm, bidding them goodnight and get well soon.

He gives students hugs when they want them. He didn’t want to originally, but Harry would greet him every class with a hug, and then one day Draco came in crying and attached himself to Severus like a sloth, so he patted him on the back and continued to hug him. Not long after, Hermione couldn’t figure out a potion and burst into tears out of frustration, turning and burying herself in his chest. After Luna wrapped her stick arms around his neck for no reason, Severus just accepted his fate and let his students hug him.

A lot of first years get scared in the hallways, since the staircases move and everywhere is incredibly crowded and they are oh so very small. Severus will often hold the hand of the most anxious ones for the first few weeks and walk them to class. Eventually they become more confident with the castle and themselves and stop needing it, but the occasional sixth year will slip their hand into his just because sometimes.

He walks around campus with students sometimes. He can tell when they’re nervous or sad or angry and he takes them on walks around the outskirts of campus and lets them vent. He also teaches them how to throw curses at the Whomping Willow just because (it’s for Remus but nobody’s gonna say it out loud).

He teaches students how to walk dramatically (as he should). He puts on student drag shows in the Great Hall with James’ help (who always kisses him way too enthusiastically because of it) and Dumbledore’s permission (so long as he gets to be the finale). The students work with Sirius on their drag looks and Sirius and Remus both join in the drag show for the opening act. Sirius’ job is to design and create the students’ looks while Remus tells them they look pretty and tames their stage fright. Severus just sits in the audience smirking while Lily screams in delight. (Regulus also shrieks with excitement eventually, though he does usually spend the first half trying to look disinterested.) (Peter’s job is to get the cookies and sweets (and underage alcohol).)

He turns into his snake Animagus form sometimes without warning when his students aren’t looking and just slithers around the classroom scaring the crap out of people. His favorite students are the ones brave enough to pet him. Harry and Newt are the only ones brave enough (and allowed) to wind him around their shoulders. Severus and Harry sometimes have conversations in Parseltongue.

He invents spells to help with dyslexia and other learning disabilities in his spare time. When he’s done with that he plans to try looking into some cures to mental illness. He’s thinking possibly a potion that treats PTSD by replacing traumatic memories with pictures of puppies, unicorns, bunnies, cats, and parrots. What do you think?

He tries hard to come up with solutions and modifications to his lessons for students with ADHD. He often talks to James about what the best steps to take are because James has ADHD. (So does Sirius, but his insecurities are bad enough that he won’t talk about it with anyone but Remus and James.)

He plays the violin sometimes during tests and uses Sonorus to make it echo throughout the classroom. Occasionally he cancels class and just plays until most of his students fall asleep. Those who want to work on extra work can, but he tries to keep their stress and general teenage angst to a minimum. (Though he encourages the emo phase.)

One of the first things he does after the Prank is get to work on a lycanthropy solution for Remus. After a couple years he invents the wolfsbane potion, but it doesn’t quite do the trick. Eventually he manages to figure out the cure, and when Remus finds out he cries so hard he can’t breathe right for days. (Sirius also cries. So does James. And Peter. And Lily and Regulus and Mcgonogall. Seriously, everyone cried and everyone hugged him and Severus tried to get away by transforming into his snake form but toddler Harry just grabbed him and refused to let go, so that didn’t work.) (He also helps Remus become a wolf Animagus when he asks almost a year later.)

He teaches certain kids Occlumency and Legilimency after school. It’s strictly for kids he knows come from abusive homes, whether they’re open about it or not, so they can tell when it’s going to be a bad night and get away or protect themselves. He teaches Occlumency for those who need to hide things from their parents (like Sirius and Regulus used to) and Legilimency to all, just in case. He focuses on stealth and untraceable versions of the craft to earn the kids as much time and protection as he can.

He figures out how to remove the Dark Mark from his own arm after the war. The next person he calls is Regulus, whose he also removes. He writes down the entire process and when the war starts up again, he keeps an eye out for students suddenly wearing long sleeves. He speaks with those he does find and helps them to make the right choice and join the right side of the war, starting with removing that horrid tattoo. (Draco bawls uncontrollably when Severus removes his.)

When they do the lesson on Veritaserum, he’s extra careful to make sure students don’t test it, especially on themselves or their friends. It, along with Amortentia, is the most guarded potion in his stash. The only times he uses it is when a student from an abusive home is too scared to tell him what’s going on, in which case he finds them somewhere private, asks them if they’d be okay with it and if so which teacher they want to be there to ask the questions (usually Remus, Sirius, or himself), and then administers the potion and leaves or begins to ask yes or no questions. It’s helped a lot of kids escape their families.

He tries to ease trepidations about himself early in the school year, since he’s aware he can be intimidating and the rampant stories regarding his time under Voldemort (though entirely as a spy) do not help. His friendships with Remus and Sirius often serve to alleviate students’ fears though, as they tend to tell embarrassing stories about him from their own Hogwarts days that make him seem more human (and make him want to strangle them, but that’s neither here nor there).

Every year, he works with Remus and Lily to arrange Muggleborn Pride. It’s an incredibly popular event with tons of Muggle inventions and artifacts floating through the air over students’ heads. At any time they can reach up and pull one down to study it. Many students dress as their favorite Muggle icons and characters. Because of this, Muggleborn students are more comfortable being who they are than ever before. (Some have even reclaimed the word Mudblood by setting up mud pits during their Pride.) (They also have more Slytherin Muggleborns now than any other time in recorded history.)

He tells Regulus’ story to every class of students, to teach them what true bravery is and how love and family, even if not blood, can change the course of history. Regulus survived his encounter with the Horcruxes and worked to destroy them and eventually Voldemort, but now lives away from the public eye in a secluded part of Muggle London. He and Severus are friends and visit often, and Regulus will occasionally come back to Hogwarts to say hello to his brother and mum (Remus), but for the most part he keeps his life intensely private. He allows his family to tell his story because he wants other kids to know they are not alone and that there is a way out, and that you are not a bad person for things you did in your childhood. Severus does his best to do it justice.

He has incredibly loud arguments with Dumbledore until he finally agrees to implement sex ed as a mandatory class at Hogwarts. Severus works with the other Marauders on the curriculum and they try to include multiple angles and identities in their lesson plan. At first they try to trust Remus with it, but Remus doesn’t go anywhere without Sirius who is less than tactful and Remus himself has some deadpan sarcasm and a lack of shame to rival James Potter’s, so. They try Lily. She can’t stop giggling. Finally they beg Regulus to come back and teach it. He’s surprisingly… perfect for the job. (He steals parenting books from Amir, that’s his secret.)

When James visits, everything becomes chaos for a bit. While he mostly hangs out with Sirius and Remus and causes trouble with them, he certainly seems to enjoy sitting in the back of Severus’ classroom and bothering him during lessons. The only way to get him to leave is to turn into a snake and wind himself around his shoulders, which makes James shriek and sputter and run away (James has always had an irrational fear of snakes; odd that he married one then, innit?). But when James isn’t causing chaos, he’s following Severus around adoringly and grabbing at his hand, whispering jokes in his ear and kissing his cheek. Despite all of the times he’s a pain in the ass, there are always these little moments that remind Severus why he fell in love with him in the first place (entirely unwillingly and with much stubborn pride on both ends, but, well. It is what it is and they got here eventually, so that’s all that matters).

When Lily visits, everything is calm. She reigns all of the Marauders in and forces them to have picnics under the tree where they all used to do homework. She often holds Severus’ hand and dances with him there, turning his insides to useless goo. She’s always full of laughter and fairy bells, and though she makes every student question their priorities and life decisions, she’s a favorite of them all. Not a day goes by that someone doesn’t pull him aside and say, “You’re a lucky, lucky man.” (Or, in James’ case: “Fuck, love, how’d we bloody manage that?” (Severus just shrugs. It’s not like he knows.))

He helps kids with autism feel more like they belong. He also works to educate non-autistic students how to better socialize and respect those who are, and takes extra care to dispel myths about autism and its causes, effects, and characteristics. Lily helps when she can.

Above all, Severus tries to give his students the education he never had. Anything he can provide for them he will. He’s been given a second chance and by Merlin is he going to bloody use it.

[phykios]

this one is dedicated to mi amor mari @perseannabeth, who is a beautiful bird and a wonderful friend and i am v v vvvvv grateful to have crossed the airwaves with her :”)

Today Was A Fairytale [read on ao3] T, modern royalty, fun at disneyland!

She stares at him. 

He stares back. “What?”

“Really?”

“What?”

“You really think this is going to be enough?” Annabeth points at her head, the blue Yankees cap squishing her curls. 

“Of course! It’s the Clark Kent effect.” As if to underline his point, Percy slips on his fake hipster glasses, except that stupid grin of his is too bright not to draw attention. 

“That’s not a real thing.”

“Sure it is. Studies show that glasses are actually good enough to alter your appearance if someone doesn’t know you well.”

“Then why didn’t you bring a pair of glasses for me?”

“Because your hair is definitely the prettiest thing about you,” he says, automatically tugging an unruly curl which peeks out from under the brim, a gesture so practiced she almost doesn’t register it--until he blinks, dropping his hand, blushing lightly. “I mean--the most noticeable thing. You know. A hat should be fine.”

He looks away. Heat rises to her face, too. Because it’s so hot out, obviously. 

“Anyway,” he mumbles, “um. No--no one’s going to give you a second look if your hair is hidden.”

Chewing her lip, Annabeth can’t help but worry. Percy’s face is extremely well-known, possibly more than hers, and they’ve both spent the better part of three weeks with their faces plastered all over the media on their diplomatic trip. This is probably a really, really bad idea. Then, a thought occurs to her. “How about,” she says, perking up, “you give me your glasses, and I’ll give you mine.” From her backpack, she fishes out a pair of sunglasses, big and nondescript. He’ll practically be wearing a superhero mask with these.

Percy smiles again, and Annabeth thinks she might fly. “Perfect.”

Which is how Her Royal Highness Anna Elisabeth Ingrid Irene of Sweden and His Serene Highness Perseus Alexandros Ioannis of Thera play hooky from their day of boring meetings, insufferable dignitaries, and stuffy security guards, to go see the eighth wonder of the world: Disneyland Resort in California.

And how Annabeth eats her words as they make it past the security gate unchecked. “Eh?” He beams, nudging her with his elbow. “Eh?”

Rolling her eyes, she shoves him back. “Shut up.”

***

[description: a tiktok video which depicts a line at Disneyland. the op, a black girl with braids, covers her mouth and looking into the camera, turning the camera to focus on the two people behind her. one is a tall boy with black hair and sunglasses, and the other is a blonde girl with a yankees hat and glasses. both are white. video text reads: “p sure the people behind me are prince percy and princess annabeth??? um?????”. background audio is a dubstep remix of the fight theme from undertale. end ID]

***

Maybe it’s a little weird, on account of her being actual royalty and all, but Annabeth has always been interested in princesses, both as a matter of historical record (history is awesome) and in the general sense. Like millions of other people, she, too, was raised on Disney movies and tales of princesses and true love, and she was just as captivated as the rest of them. She and Percy used to watch the Disney catalogue whenever their families held state visits for each other, staying up into the small hours of the morning, sharing some popcorn and singing along. 

Luckily for Annabeth, her favorite princess is holding a meet and greet at the Royal Hall.

“Excuse me,” Percy says, approaching Princess Ariel. Well, her cast member, anyway. “Could I get a photo for my friend?”

“Of course!” she trills, her blue eyes sparkling. “It would be my pleasure.” Holding her hand out, perfectly poised and graceful in a way that would impress even Annabeth’s stodgy etiquette instructor, she smiles, warm and welcoming, pivoting to bring Annabeth in for one of those weird, semi-awkward half-hugs. “What’s your name?”

“Anna,” says Annabeth. Hey, it’s not untrue. She’s a little leery of using any of her names, but Anna is common enough. Annabeth? Not so much. Even with her glasses and hat disguise, a little paranoia is justified, she thinks.

“It’s so wonderful to meet you, Anna,” she says, cheerful, with all the grace and charm of someone who doesn’t spend hours saying the same thing over and over again to excitable, temperamental children. What a trooper, she thinks.

“Don’t you recognize a fellow princess when you see one, your highness?” Percy says, grinning that stupid, smarmy grin of his. 

Annabeth glares. Oh, he thinks he’s so damn clever. 

“Oh, of course,” says Ariel, smoothly. “How could I have thought otherwise? Your highness.” And she curtsies to Annabeth, a short dip, her hand placed delicately against her chest. “Perhaps I can introduce you to my friend Anna, princess of Arendelle?”

Still smirking, Percy takes some more pictures, trapping Annabeth into smiling for the camera. She can’t be glaring daggers in her pictures, nor can there be video evidence of her kicking him--no matter how much she wants to.

And she definitely doesn’t miss the way Ariel not-so-subtly checks Percy out, eyeing him up and down.

“You fucking asshole,” she hisses as they leave the photo area, swatting him lightly, and he giggles. 

“Sorry, sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

“Ugh, I hate you so much.”

It’s hard to stay mad at him, though she definitely tries as they enter back out into the park proper, giving him just the barest hint of a cold shoulder. 

“Aw, come on,” Percy says. “I was just teasing.”

“You shouldn’t go around tempting fate like that,” Annabeth says. “Do you want to cause another international incident?”

Percy winces, no doubt remembering the Gateway Arch incident of 2008. 

“If someone recognizes us, we don’t have Zoe or any of her team to protect us,” Annabeth goes on. “Not that I think anyone here would try to hurt us, but…” But it’s a little nerve-wracking, being on her own like this. She hasn’t been alone like this for a really long time.

Wincing, Percy rubs the back of his head. “I guess I forgot you’re a little higher profile than me. Sorry.”

She doesn’t like to think about it, but it’s true. Percy, by his nature as the younger son of a largely defunct royal house, doesn’t have quite the same number of… issues… that someone like Annabeth might have.

Deflating, she uncrosses her arms. “It’s okay.”

“I should have asked you first.”

“It’s really okay,” she says. “No harm no foul.”

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asks, entirely serious. “I can call someone up.”

She knows just how long they’ve planned this, how many favors he’s called in and policies he’s sidestepped. Backing out now would just be a waste of a day. She shakes her head. “It’s fine,” she says. “I’m just… feeling a little exposed, I guess. But, I don’t want to ruin all our plans. Let’s keep going.” She grabs his hand, squeezing a little.

“...Okay,” Percy says. “But say the word, and we’ll call it a day. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good.” Like he doesn’t have any other expression today, he smiles at her again.

It hits her, suddenly. He’s so much taller than she remembers. Once upon a time she used to be taller than him; now, he’s basically a whole head above her. 

It’s annoying. But also… not.

Spying something over her shoulder, his eyes light up, and he practically gasps. “Cinderella!” he points with his free hand, like a five-year old. “Come on!” And he takes off to one of the park corners, dragging Annabeth along with him. 

He has to wait in line behind a pair of twin girls, six or seven years old by the looks of it, in identical Cinderella dresses for a photo, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, and when it’s finally his turn, he nearly trips over himself to go up and ask for a photo. 

Cinderella agrees, and now Annabeth is relegated to the job of cameraperson. Percy slides in next to the princess, his hand on her waist, but, ever the respectful gentleman, loosely held, so the cast member can slide out of his grasp without any difficulty at all.

Taking a few shots, it does look kind of strange to have Cinderella’s beautiful, shining face, and Percy’s enormous sunglasses blocking his. “Take off your glasses?” she says, lowering her phone for a second. 

Dutifully, Percy slips them off, smiling again for the camera. 

Cinderella’s smile doesn’t falter, a credit to her professionalism, but Annabeth can see her eyes widen, just a touch.

Annabeth snaps off a few more photos, “Got ‘em!” and Percy once again gushes over the princess, thanking her for her time. Grabbing Annabeth’s hand again, he practically skips off, leading them in the direction of a nearby candy shop. 

***

me: IM SHAKING GUESS WHO I JUST TOOK A PICTURE WITH????

sis: prince percy?

me: HOW TF DID YOU KNOW

sis: its on twitter already

***

They’re walking along, Annabeth slurping up a Dole whip, when she suddenly stops in her tracks, outside of one of the many, many gift shops. “Wait up a second.”

“Hm?” Percy says, around the giant lollipop in his mouth. 

“I want to get some Mickey ears.” 

Very quickly they get lost in the sea of Disney merchandise, walking the labyrinth of Star Wars and Marvel and Pixar goods. There’s a surprising amount of black for the so-called happiest place on Earth, but things do brighten up when Annabeth finally turns a corner and finds the enormous selection of Mickey ears. It’s a wash of sparkles, flowers, bows, and occasionally characters, for children and adults alike. Annabeth eyes a pair designed like Baby Yoda, eyes wide and ears adorably huge, before she fingers a pair of white Mickey ears that have a bridal veil attached to them, contemplating its counterpart, the black ears for the groom, each ear emblazoned with a sparkling silver “Happily Ever After.”

She looks around. Where did Percy wander off to, anyway? 

Well, wherever he is, hopefully he hasn’t gotten mobbed by a horde of excitable fangirls. Given that she can’t hear any screaming--well, any unusual, non-Disneyland-relevant screaming--that’s probably a good sign. 

Running her fingers over the ear selections, she finally picks out a pair of silver sequined earrings with a shiny gold bow, a tiny, rhinestone Cinderella’s castle placed delicately in the middle. 

Yeah. This one. 

Percy finds her as she is paying for her ears, a pair of his own already on his head, red balloons inside of plastic circles. The sunglasses, she notes with a tinge of nervousness, are tucked in his shirt, and not on his face, protecting his identity. “Oh, check mine out--they light up!” he says, giddy, pressing the button on the side, not that she can tell in the brightly lit shop.

“That’s not why I was looking.”

Walking out of the store, ears firmly in her possession, she looks around again. Percy’s face is out there for the world to see, and no one is giving them a hard time. 

And her hat is really sweaty. 

Ah, fuck it.

She removes the Yankees cap, shaking out her sweaty curls, sliding the ears on in its place.

And the glasses, for good measure.

“Cinderella?” Percy asks.

“I thought you’d approve.”

Outside the shop, next to a corn dog cart, Percy pulls her aside, out of the way of a whole classroom’s worth of children, holding up a plastic plag. “So, confession.”

“Percy…” He didn’t. “We said no gifts!” They had agreed to it that morning!

“Well, see,” he says, fumbling around in the bag, pulling out a black t-shirt. “I saw this, and I thought--I thought you might like it.”

He unfolds it, and Annabeth frowns at the shirt design. 

It’s… a drawing of a man in a purple mask against a solid black background, glaring at the viewer. Circling him, in distressed, white-grey military font, are the words “BARON ZEMO,” and the logo for the show he must star in, Marvel’s The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. She doesn’t really watch superhero shows, though, and she’s pretty sure Percy doesn’t, either. Maybe he’s started this one and he really likes it? “Thanks,” she says, confusion coloring her voice despite her best efforts. 

But he doesn’t look too disappointed. “I was looking through their pride merch, and they didn’t have any stuff with the ace flag, which totally sucks, but then I thought that maybe you might like something a little more subtle? So, yeah.” He shakes it. “Ace pride!”

Oh. Oh, this boy. 

She remembers, so vividly, visiting his father’s summer home on Kalymnos, a few years ago, the summer she turned nineteen, waking up to a banging in the kitchen, noisy pots and pans making a real racket. Granted, it had been one in the afternoon, and Annabeth probably should have been awake sooner, but she had stumbled out of the guest room into the kitchen, rubbing sleep out of her eyes, to the sight of Percy wrestling with the standmixer, making bright, neon purple frosting. The night before, sometime around three or four AM, that weird, liminal hour where the shadow of night just starts to recede, the sky a sweet, soft, dusky blue, she had come out as demisexual to her best friend, saying the words aloud for the first time ever. Loopy from lack of sleep, the moment had passed without much fanfare.

But Percy, dark-circled and still yawning, had woken up early to make her a chocolate cake. By the time she had woken up, he had baked the cake, chilled it, and made two out of the three frosting colors, a beautiful, moist, dark chocolate cake which ended up being frosted with a marbled mix of purple, black, and white, all folding into each other into a kind of colorless, grey sugar. 

Here, now, in Disneyland, she throws herself at him, wrapping his arms around his neck. His arms automatically come up to circle her, hugging her tight. 

She had been worried it had been some kind of defense mechanism. A young girl with an alarmingly high profile, Annabeth had been the subject of intense scrutiny with regards to any romantic entanglements, with critics, tabloid reporters, and fans alike attempting to invent gossip-worthy relationships with every boy she ever talked to--most usually Percy. They did grow up in the public eye together, attending all kinds of events and functions together over the last fifteen or so years. And they did tweet at each other. Like, a lot. They even had their own portmanteau hashtag. But no relationship ever materialized.

She thought maybe she was just being stubborn, unwilling to play the media game. But it hadn’t been stubbornness. It wasn’t about shyness or inexperience. It was real, and it was her.

And Percy hadn’t even blinked.

“I love it,” she murmurs. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he says, swaying her from side to side, just a little. “It was my pleasure.”

***

What’s happening: #percabeth (Entertainment • trending)

@kndrck__ STREAM CHROMATICA: um @TheraUS @SwedenRoyals i think i found your sick royals? #percabeth #disneyland

@wasabiviking: omg werent they supposed to be at some hospital opening today #percabeth

@ChampionSno brando he/him: LMAOOO NOT #PERCABETH PLAYING HOOKY LIKE IT’S ROMAN HOLIDAY

***

“Holy shit,” Percy moans, his mouth full of food. “Oh my God. Dear God in Heaven.”

Annabeth kicks his ankle under the table. “Don’t be rude.”

He swallows, eyes fluttering. “Oh my God, Annabeth. Holy shit. This is the best damn sandwich I’ve ever had in my entire life.”

“A monte cristo?”

“A deep-fried monte cristo! In sweet batter!” Taking another bite, he moans again, just this side of indecent. “Oh my God I love Americans. They are absolute culinary geniuses.”

“Better than Bistrot Chez Rémy?” They had both been to Disneyland Paris, separately, sadly, and Percy had recommended the restaurant to her with great enthusiasm for her upcoming trip. As usual, he was spot on with his food recs. 

He nods, eyes closed in rapture. “By a mile.”

“You’ll have to learn to make your own when we get back home, then.”

He jolts, straightening up, cheeks full of food. Roughly, he swallows. “You’re right! I need to take notes.” And he takes out his phone, hurriedly typing down whatever scent and flavor notes he must be able to discern. “This is definitely challah…”

Plucking another piece of chicken with her fork out of her jambalaya, Annabeth lets her attention wander a little, content to watch the passengers on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride as they float on beside them, down in the artificially constructed bayou river. 

Truth be told, she’s kind of tired. They’ve been walking around all day, and even with the brief reprieve of rides, her shoes really aren’t the kind that deal well with huge amounts of walking. She can already tell that she’s going to crash, and crash hard, whenever they get back to their hotel. You know, if their security detail doesn’t eviscerate them first. 

When Percy had first presented his idea to her, she had agreed without hesitation. They had had a long, dense schedule of public appearances planned for their excursions to the states, and the days had begun to seriously wear them out. Together, they had worked out the kinks, coming up with contingencies, negotiating things to do, all over Discord so no one else would get wind of what they were doing. Prior to this trip, she hadn’t seen him in… probably almost a year. She knows his father had been keeping him close to home for whatever reason, and Annabeth had had a handful of official functions to deal with. Their paths just never managed to cross, up until now. 

She hadn’t realized how much she had missed him. 

It’s lonely, growing up in the public eye. It’s cliche, but it’s true. And while Annabeth is afforded a metric ton of various intersecting privileges, she thinks she’d probably give it up in a heartbeat. It kind of sucks being a living, breathing tourist attraction. 

Growing up, she had her cousin Magnus, and a handful of other assorted children to play with, but she would never say that she had a best friend, or even a good friend, until she’d met Percy. Her mother and his father, famous for their mutual dislike, had put aside their differences to host some kind of charitable dinner for the disgustingly wealthy, and had trotted out their respective children in all their finery. Annabeth, being all of twelve years old, hadn’t really grasped the gravity of the event, and had gotten into an itty bitty little food fight with the then-unknown Prince Perseus, the result of an extramarital affair whom his father had so graciously decided to acknowledge and adopt. 

After that night, they became fast friends, and she decided that, if she ever left the royal life, she’d make sure to take Percy with her. He’s one of the few things that makes her life bearable. 

She thinks about it, sometimes. Renouncing her title. It wouldn’t exactly be hard. There was Magnus, just in line behind her. And it’s not like her family held any executive power anyway. They’re just fancy, historically interesting celebrities. 

Would Percy give up his, she wonders?

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

He looks at her oddly over their dessert, two vanilla-bourbon creme brulees. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Just tired. Long day.”

“You want to call it a night?”

She frowns. “What’s left?”

“Well, we did Space Mountain, Rise of the Resistance, Haunted Mansion, Pirates of the Caribbean, a few others,” he counts off his fingers, “saw the princesses, got Mickey ears, ate at Blue Bayou… I guess all that’s left is walking around the pier, if you want.”

“Sounds like you two had a full day.”

As one, they almost leap out of their seats, Annabeth choking on her spit. “Jesus, Zoe,” Percy pants, his hand over his chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Oh?” says Zoe Nightshade, the head of their security detail, who had just apparently materialized out of thin air. “Funny. I could say the same about you, sir.”

Coughing, Annabeth eventually manages to get her air back. “Hey, Zoe,” she wheezes. “How was your day?”

“Eventful. Let me tell you about it in the car.”

Annabeth glances at Percy, who’s looking a little bit like a deer in headlights. Honestly, she’s surprised they even made it this far without one of their own tracking them down. Still, it looks like their game is up. 

...Or is it?

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a large tour group, approaching on the horizon.

“Sure,” Annabeth says, getting up. Luckily, they’ve already paid, so they can just head out; they don’t need to wait for another big group of people to cross their paths. “Will you let us go to the bathroom, first?”

Zoe squints. She’s always been able to see through Annabeth’s bullshit. But Annabeth has her best, Percy-patented baby seal eyes on, perfectly innocent. Surely, Zoe wouldn’t deny them a physical need such as relieving themselves?

After a moment, she nods. “Make it quick, if you please.”

“Of course,” Annabeth says, looking over at Percy, hoping he gets the message. He stands up, slow and stiff, eyes darting between the two of them. “We’ll be right back.”

They wander through tables and chairs towards the bathroom, her eyes always on the tour group as it just starts to pass by. Reaching out, Annabeth grabs Percy’s hand, and with a turn that would make her track coach proud, sprints out of the restaurant, using the throng of people as cover. 

She thinks she hears Zoe yelling behind them, but maybe it’s just her own laughter. “Come on!” she shrieks, breathless, as Percy’s long legs keep pace with her. “To California Adventure!”

***

darthbingus said: the monarchy are fucking parasites but percabeth is pretty cute i guess :/

ladyofsandwiches reblogged and said: it’s obviously a publicity thing lmao, also prince Percy is gay???

eowynning reblogged and said: he’s dating rachel dare, right? he can’t be gay 

ladyofsandwiches reblogged and said: That was a publicity thing too obvs, and Annabeth hasn’t ever been linked to a guy. The king of thera is hardline greek orthodox, there’s no way he’d let his son come out publicly. They’re both gay and pretending to date because homophobia

lardoftheprks reblogged and said: people can be bi and ace and pan and all sorts of things you know

batgirlcock reblogged and said: can you animals leave them alone fr

***

Zoe only spots them after the ferris wheel starts moving. Sprinting over to them, they’re still a full forty feet off the ground by the time she reaches the operator. “Sorry!” she yells down to her, hands cupping her mouth. “We’ll be down in ten minutes!”

“Ananbeth!” he chokes, giggles still escaping him. 

“What?” she laughs. 

“We’re in enough trouble as it is!”

“Exactly,” she says, settling back on the ride. “You’ll probably be grounded for life.”

“Me?” he squawks, playfully offended. “What about you?”

She scoffs. “Please. I’ll just pin it all on you.”

Leaning back, he pouts, arms crossed. “Wow. I plan this amazing day, violate a few embassorial rules, and probably put both of our countries on a massive red alert, and this is the thanks I get?”

“I helped plan it, too.” But he does have a point. “Thank you,” she says. “I had a lot of fun today.”

He turns his head to her, a grin stretching across his face. “Me too.” 

His voice is so soft, so fond. They share a look, a moment, no words between them, only the silence of a true, deep companionship. They don’t need to say anything else, because they already know what the other would say. 

As one, they break away, looking back out into the California evening. 

They don’t talk much as the ferris wheel climbs higher and higher. Honestly, Annabeth is kind of impressed with how well he’s handling himself--she knows heights are a bit of a weakness of his. He grabs the edges of their gondola every once in a while as it drops a few feet, knuckles white and face a little green, but he manages to keep his dinner down, even as the ferris wheel grinds to a halt, Percy and Annabeth at the top of the world. The swing back and forth a little, hot faces against the cool evening breeze. 

And they stay there. 

And stay there. 

And… stay there. 

Annabeth checks her watch. How long have they been up here?

Percy taps his feet, a little too frantic just to be ADHD. 

Finally, there’s a burst of noise from below them, garbled and static. “Uh, yes, excuse me--” the voice says, amplified through a megaphone. “Yeah, um, it appears we are having some… uh, technical difficulties with the Pixar Pal-A-Round. Please remain calm, as we have our best technicians on it, and we are working on evacuating the ride in a calm and efficient manner.” Then the voice cuts out. 

Annabeth glances towards Percy. He has his hands in his lap, fists clenching and unclenching, over and over again. “Uh… you okay?”

“Hm? Oh, sure,” Percy says, “just fine. Peachy keen.” He squeezes his eyes shut, slowly blowing out his breath through his mouth. 

“Hey.” She reaches over, and takes one of his hands in hers, lacing their fingers together. After a long day of holding hands, somehow it still manages to surprise her, how well they fit together, how her skin tingles as she rubs her thumb against his finger. “It’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna be just fine. They’re going to get us off this ride, and then we’ll fly home and be grounded for life.”

“I thought,” he wheezes, “you’d blame it all on me?”

“As if you could come up with a plan as genius as hiding from our guard in It's A Small World.”

He nods, shakily. “Right. All you. Definitely not my idea. Everyone knows I’d have looped back to Pirates of the Caribbean.”

“Definitely.” She squeezes his hand, scooting a little closer. “Just breathe with me a little, okay?”

They breathe together, slowly and evenly. At some point, Percy takes her hand in both of his, running his thumbs over her palm, tracing her lifelines like a map. His hands are big, and warm, and it seems to calm him down a little, so she doesn’t mind all that much. 

Twilight darkens, stars twinkling against the grey, dusky sky, and still they are holding hands. Eventually, Percy relaxes, slumping against his seat.

“You good?” 

He nods. He still doesn’t let go. “Yeah. Just…” he sighs, stretching his arms up, taking Annabeth’s hand with him. “Not super looking forward to the dressing down I’m going to get.”

She winces. Annabeth’s dad is a little more flexible than Percy’s when it comes to breaches of protocol. The king of Thera is somewhat famous for his paranoia. “I hope it was worth it.”

He whips his head to her, eyes wide. “Of course it was worth it!” he says, as though the opposite were even fathomable. “You kidding? This was the best day of my life.”

“Better than your sixteenth?” His father had officially acknowledged him that day. Annabeth had spotted him in a deserted hallway with his mother, the two of them fighting off a few happy tears. She knows just how special that day was for him. 

“Not even close.” Squeezing her hand, he smiles again, that smile she knows almost better than her own by now. That smile she grew up with, a quiet oasis in a whirlwind of ancient tradition and modern media coverage. That smile is safety, familiarity. That smile was there to greet her when her mother chose to leave her family, when her uncle died without heirs, thrusting the position of heiress on her, whenever she had a rotten day or a bad grade or a lonely night, just on the other end of a phone, or down the hall, or in the kitchen. 

Whatever happens, she knows, Percy will be her best friend. Her anchor. 

Her…

She swallows. “Thank you,” she says again. “I needed this.” A day without an agenda. A day just for them. 

His eyes are dark, and soft, like the water beneath them. One hundred and fifty feet in the air in a broken ferris wheel, there’s nowhere safer she can be. “Me too.”

So she’s not really surprised at herself when she says, “I’d really like to kiss you now.”

Eyes widening, just a hair, he opens his mouth, momentarily speechless. “You--are you sure?”

She nods, maybe a little too enthusiastically.

“Cool. Uh, me too.”

“Cool.”

Neither of them move. 

“So, do--do you want to--”

Annabeth leans in, her other hand cupping his cheek, and kisses him. 

His lips are soft. His mouth tastes like vanilla and bourbon. They are trapped in a metal box, one hundred and fifty feet off the ground, about to get the punishment of their lives when they get down, and it is absolutely, utterly perfect. 

And when Annabeth pulls back, there are fireworks. 

Quite literally.

Percy’s face glows with pink and green and purple, and a little fire in his eyes that’s all him. The pops of the fireworks, loud and brassy, and muted, completely overshadowed by the pounding of her heart in her chest. 

They rest their heads against each other, breathing each other’s air, quiet and intimate, the calm before the storm that is surely coming. But that’s fine. Let it come, she thinks. She’ll be safe with Percy.

When the park technicians eventually get the ferris wheel moving again, Percy and Annabeth disembark from the gondola like nothing’s even gone wrong, waving to the crowd of people, fans, and reporters alike, who have swarmed the pier, phones and cameras held aloft in a constellation of light, before being quickly hurried away by Zoe and her crew, ushered to the end of the pier where Annabeth’s embassy’s car is waiting. 

Percy doesn’t let go of her hand once. 

***

KALYMNOS, GREECE--Prince Percy has arrived on the island for his family’s annual summer retreat, bringing his girlfriend, Princess Annabeth of Sweden, with him for the fifth year in a row, and the third as his official partner. Lifelong friends, the couple were most recently seen at Disneyland Tokyo, continuing something of a tradition for the two royals where they visit Disneyland parks across the globe. Our sources inside the castle are hinting that the family is planning something big this year. Could we see a proposal by the end of summer? Be sure to subscribe for more updates!

[riddleblack246]

For @scoobydean and @destielsecretsanta2020

“This could be nice for Jack.”

“’My First Christmas’. Cas, this is meant for babies.”

“It’s still his first Christmas with us.”

“That mean we should get one for you too?”

“If you’d like.”

Read below for some Team Free Will 3.0 holiday head canons~!

After everything goes down with Jack makes use of his new abilities, Sam and Dean are much more willing to fight to keep him with them. He initially wonders if it is because he’s “useful” to them now. The brothers promptly inform him that no, it’s because this is the first time where they can all feel safe enough to take a breath. Sure, they’re still hunters. But after everything they’ve been through, they all deserve a chance to enjoy life without constantly looking over their shoulders. And so Jack stays.

As promised, he brought back those that were loved and lost. Obviously everyone is relieved and thankful, but that is most clearly seen in the return of Eileen and Castiel. Sam and Eileen are quick to pick up where they left off. Castiel, however, is a bit more hesitant. He didn’t expect to ever see Dean again. He truly thought he wouldn’t have to know Dean’s feelings and when he confessed, he felt he could live with that. But now he’s suddenly back in this world, aware of his existence and the knowledge that he told the man he’d been in love with for over a decade how he felt. But Dean doesn’t allow him to panic for long. Enveloping Cas in his arms, he’s squeezing the angel’s vessel so tightly that he can barely get out the words. Nonetheless, he does and finally returns the sentiment that Castiel never expected to hear.

“I love you too, Cas.”

And now to dig into holiday centric joys!

By the time Christmas rolls around, the bunker’s primary couples have developed a sense of routine. Eileen has finally moved in and Dean and Castiel have eased into a comfortable romantic domesticity. And for the first time in a while, there are no hunts to investigate or major threats to take on, and the Winchesters found themselves able to celebrate the holidays in a way that they hadn’t had a chance to in some time (save for the Mrs. Butters stint).

On the first of December, Dean sits down in the library and begins to make a list, trying to figure out exactly what was expected of a traditional Christmas. When Sam catches him, he expects scoffs of disagreement or just bored indifference. Instead, he supplies the idea of inviting some people to the bunker.

“What, Sammy? You want to throw a Christmas rager?” (The statement does earn him an eye roll)

“No. I just thought it might be nice. See everyone together.”

Neither of them explicitly say why it would be nice, but they know the relief that would come with seeing each person they never expected to see again. Dean tasks his brother with making a guest list and sending out an e-mail to those on it (because Dean draws the line at trying to make actual invitations).

The response is overwhelmingly positive and soon enough, they’re fielding constant texts from Garth, asking if it would be okay to bring his kids, and e-mails from Donna, offering to bake a multitude of requested holiday treats. 

Amidst holiday planning, the group allows themselves to give into expectations of the season. Jack and Castiel are largely in the dark of what is or isn’t part of the holidays and while Dean, Sam, and Eileen aren’t the most immersed, they do have an idea of what is to be done and are admittedly eager to dive in.

One of the first things on Dean’s list is to decorate a tree. He even insists on cutting one down himself, as aside from various times he had to cut and sharpen his own stakes, it’s something he’s never had a chance to do. Sam, reluctant to join him, tells his brother to have fun. In the spirit of “giving”, Dean bring Cas and Jack along, assuring Sam and Eileen that they’ll “be a while ;)”. They return some hours later with a tree that rivals the Rockefeller Center and relief in the fact that they have two celestial beings to transport something of that size. Decorating it is another story.

After digging through the bunker and finding that, no, the Men of Letters did not hoard Christmas ornaments or wreaths or any such things among their piles of artifacts and cursed objects, the groups decides to get a little shopping done. They initially hit a big box store for a bunch of basics - lights, tinsel, various colored balls (Dean makes several jokes about this), but as the month goes on, all of them are guilty of picking up random items to decorate with while out.

Eileen delightedly shows her boys a Christmas pyramid she bought and is quick to tell Jack that he can’t light it whenever he wants, as forgetting about it could result in burning down the bunker.

Sam buys all of them advent calendars, each dedicated specifically to every member of the bunker. Dean doesn’t comment on Sam’s shift toward the holiday spirit, not only because he’s happy that his brother has allowed himself to be more joyfully invested in things, but also because every day for the month he gets to appreciate a new and weird specialty bottle of hot sauce. Sam’s own contains different types of tea, Eileen’s has jam, Jack’s has little LEGO figures, and Castiel’s has coffee.

Jack nearly gives Dean a heart attack one morning when the man wakes up to find a nutcracker as tall as he is in the crow’s nest. Jack tells him all about finding it in a shop he and Castiel passed when getting supplies and insisting that it was a perfect thing to have for the bunker. Dean looks to Castiel and knows the angel would have been too soft to say no. Then again, he knows he would have been just as guilty.

Castiel begins buying ornaments for people in the bunker. Even with Dean teasing him about it, he does buy a “my first Christmas” ornament and puts a photo of Jack inside that Eileen helped him print out. He finds that he is particularly fond of ornaments that contain photos and begins to buy ones for that explicit purpose.

Dean doesn’t necessarily have a type of decoration that he finds himself buying outside of what they have, but he is fond of the lights. He usually insists they stay on as long as allotted, urging whoever is the last to go to bed to turn them off (though it’s usually himself).

When it does snow, Dean is eventually irritable about it with Sam and Eileen in a similar boat, though to a lesser degree. Shoveling snow out of the way of the bunker’s entrance is a pain in the ass and none of them love the chore of getting treads on their respective tires. But seeing Jack’s fascination with it - and realizing that it’s his first time encountering snow, they find themselves softening.

After getting help in clearing access to the bunker, the group spends much of the day outside. There is an unspoken agreement that they want Jack to experience all the great enjoyments of snow and it honestly brings out the kid in them too. They build a mediocre snowman (Sam takes the heat for his poor artistic skills), make snow angels (the jokes about Castiel doing so get old within five minutes), have a snowball fight (Eileen is fucking ruthless and not above putting snow down jackets), and creating makeshift sleds to race. The sledding is what ultimately makes them go back inside. Garbage can lids are hard to steer and after Dean eats it by running into a tree and loosing a tooth, even Cas fixing it doesn’t resolve the choice to go in. Nonetheless, the accident doesn’t stall the mood, as Dean insists on introducing Jack to one more awesome component of the Traditional Snow Day - the hot chocolate at the end. Said hot cocoa almost results in a fight when, after Dean makes enough for all of them, Castiel reluctantly admits that he doesn’t care for it, and Dean and Jack nearly come to childish blows over who gets his mug. Later that evening, Castiel makes sure to thank Dean privately for allowing Jack to have it. ;)

Now, when it comes to cooking, Dean likes to consider himself pretty well-versed. Baking is another story. The preciseness that’s required is what gets him. Sure, he can be meticulous, but he’s always been more of a “little of this, a bunch of that” kind of guy over exact measurements, which leaves a lot more room for error when it comes to baking. But after going on a “Gilmore Girls” binge with Castiel (the couple constantly debates the superior show of the former and “Dr. Sexy, M.D.”), he can’t help imagining a scene of tenderly showing Cas how to roll out dough and mussing some flour in his hair and watching the angel lick the spoon in a way that borders on pornographic. The day after watching, he’s searching for cookie recipes and telling Castiel to dig out some aprons.

As is the Winchester way, this expectation does not come to fruition. Cas, as he thought, didn’t know a thing about cooking or baking. But Dean pictured being able to guide him, to do all the romantic shit you see in Hallmark movies. Instead, the angel is complaining about not being able to just will the baked goods into existence, standing in the way when Dean needs to get any kind of ingredient, and getting flour on every fucking surface in the kitchen. Things reach a boiling point when Cas pulls the cookies out of the oven, sans oven mitts, and for a brief moment, Dean’s brain operates on a panic reflex and snatches the tray from his hands. The result is their hours of baking scattered all over the floor, a dented baking sheet, and second-degree burns on the hunter’s hands. He’s huffing and cursing and he fully expects Cas to scold him and point out the obvious fact that he’s an angel and such temperatures have no effect on him. But instead, he watched Castiel pulled his hands from the faucet (having immediately shoved them under there after he burned himself) and tenderly brushes his finger tips over the wounds. Dean feels the familiar sensation of healing flesh, something he hasn’t felt in a bit and he’s silent as Cas brings the newly healed skin to his lips and presses a kiss to his palms. The irritability baking had brought them is gone. Dean lets Cas wave the kitchen clean and they decide to just go out and buy Christmas cookies instead. Later that evening, Cas’ lips taste like ginger and Dean finds that the reality is way better than the fantasy.

They ultimately end up hosting the party that started their shift into the Christmas spirit a few days before the actual holiday. After all, they know most of their friends prefer flying over driving and it might be a lot to ask them to come out on the actual holiday. But their concerns of traffic and irritated guests soon fly out the window in the face of so many familiar… well, faces. Hugs never stop coming and despite everyone’s claim that gifts would not be necessary, everyone knows that’s bullshit and a pile beneath their ridiculous tree grows with every teasing comment and expression of happy holidays.

Speaking of the tree, Castiel is quite pleased with his holiday crafting and the other members of the bunker share that sentiment. Since the angel discovered the photo-insert ornaments, he had taken it upon himself to spend random periods during the month finding photographs of each important person in their lives that he could and putting them into such items. Everyone takes joy in searching for their own picture. Claire comments that he picked a terrible one of her, but Cas hears her quietly asking Dean if she could take it home with her, as it features her and Kaia pressed close in a hug. Charlie adores her’s and insists that she wants to make the same craft, but only if they do it together. Everyone quietly appreciates the ones made for those that aren’t present to appreciate them. Jack ensures that Mary’s ornament has prime placement. Eileen hugs Sam when she catches him looking at Kevin’s for a while. Dean makes a point to kiss Castiel privately after finding Bobby’s nestled among some tinsel. Everyone agrees that their the best decorations in the place.

Hunters and those that know them have never been known to operate on a normal schedule, so it is nearly three in the morning before the bunker clears out. Some have elected to drive home if the trip was relatively easy. Others have settled into the many spare rooms that the bunker holds. Once all the gifts have been opened, the eggnog’s been drunk, and everyone has eaten their weight in treats, only Dean and Cas remain in the quiet bunker. They sit together in the library, positioned on one of the many extended seats they’d brought out to fit their guests. The lights of the enormous tree are still on at Dean’s request and Castiel can’t help staring at the way the different colors still look so beautiful on him. He glances up at the other decorations strewn about. The bows, the poinsettias (Garth had brought something like ten of them), the holly, the- He spots a familiar item of decor. He’d seen Sam and Eileen equally position themselves under it in wait of their partner, always stopping them with the insistence that a kiss must be administered before they continue on their way about the bunker. Lazily, he nudges Dean and points to the archways between the crow’s nest and the hall that leads to the bedrooms.

��Is standing beneath that a requirement for kissing?”

Dean follows his finger and huff out a laugh. Even though they hadn’t been dating long, they’d been together for so many years that he knows the angel is teasing. He turns to meet his eyes, smiling at the way the lights almost change them from blue to a rainbow of color.

“What, you want to kiss under the mistletoe? Now?”

For a moment, it seems as if he’s considering the offer. But instead, he shakes his head and reaches a hand up to cup Dean’s cheek. He knows that he could have kiss Dean under there the same way Eileen and Sam do. But he knows they’re different. Dean is a lot of thing and as much as he would deny it, one of those things is private. Their relationship is simultaneously new and so so ingrained into their life. Affection was always something there, just beneath the surface. And while he had the thing he desired for so long, that doesn’t mean he feels the need to push Dean into a realm of affection that just isn’t fitting of who they are together. Leaning forward, he captures Dean’s lips in a kiss. He tastes like eggnog and candy cane.

Castiel understands all the more that happiness is in the being. And he no longer fears his joy. Because he can’t imagine being happier than holding Dean beneath these lights and knowing that they still have tomorrow and so many days to come. There is no better present than that.

[joshstambourine]

Greta Van Fleet and Their Kid’s First Day of School

Y’all seemed to love my GVF as Dad’s head canon so I thought I’d continue on the same line with something else cute~ I’ve had this idea since I mentioned it in a fic I recently wrote (A Girl Named Ivy) so I thought I might as well throw a head canon together for it as well... SO I STOP THINKING ABOUT IT LMAO.

Taglist: @anditsmywholeheart @babydxll​

Josh

He strikes me one of those dads who is actually really excited for his kid to start school. Not that he doesn't want them around, or that he doesn't realize its the mark of the beginning of the end... but because he knows this is a part of growing up.

Josh can tell while they are out shopping for new school clothes that his kid is excited. They are beginning to feel grown up, even if its just in a small way --- and Josh is proud of them for that.

I just can't imagine him being the kind of parent that struggles with letting them go, instead I see him being the kind of parent that just wants to nurture their growth in everyway.

"What about this shirt for your first day? You know what we should get you?? A set of wheelies!"

"Josh they don't allow those in schools anymore..."

*Whispers* "We'll get you some wheelies, just don't tell mom."

He'd make sure he goes through the checklist the school had sent out multiple times, trying to make sure they have everything they could possibly need.

When the big day finally comes, he would be talking with his little one all morning making sure they know they are going to have a great time and make lots of friends.

He would want to help make their lunch but instead just spends all his time drawing a picture of a rabbit with a cowboy hat riding on a goats back to put in instead.

Josh wouldn't be able to stop himself from looking in the rearview every few minutes to look over the little ones face. Trying to make sure they didn't look nervous at any point. If they do he'd find a way to reassure them.

"You remember that nice lady that gave you that cool cat sticker a few weeks ago? She's going to be there all day today! She's actually your teacher, isn't that cool?" Josh would just want to do everything in his power to keep them feeling relaxed.

"You give 'em hell today, okay?" Josh would say when they stood outside of the classroom, watching the little one nod. "Before you know it I'll be here to pick you up."

"You promise?"

"Of course I promise... I need someone to go get ice cream with!" He would say as he'd move to give them a tight hug.

"I love you."

"I love you too Dad."

As soon as the classroom door shuts, Josh won't be able to stop smiling the rest of the walk back to the car. He would be just so proud that he raised such a fearless kid.

The first thing Josh would ask when he picks them up at the end of the day,

"So? Did you learn how to move things with your mind yet?"

"No but did you know squares have four sides...?!"

Jake

Oh god.

Jake is going to be having such a tough time.

He wants to be a big strong man about this. "It's so silly... why would I be sad about them going to school?! That's ridiculous."

He would pretend like he didn't care.

Anytime his little one asks about what school is going to be like, he gives very quick pointed answers so he doesn't have to think about them being grown up enough to go.

"Is it too late to home school them...?"

"Yes Jake it's too late to home school them."

Jake just wants to hold hands the whole time they are school shopping. He doesn’t want to let them go.

"Jake, you have to let them go so they can pick out what they want."

"They can bring me where ever they want to be. I can help them reach what they need.”

The moment his kid puts their backpack on their shoulders, even just to test it out, he’s going to need to take a moment. When did his baby get so grown up?!

He thought that was bad but then the school assessment kills him.

Jake wants to be the one to make their lunch for their first day, its a special day, this little one deserves something special. He'd hide candies and other treats at the bottom so Mom won't see.

There is no way Jake isn’t driving his kid on their first day of school. He’s going to talk with them all the way to class with their hand clasped in his.

I think despite how well he covers it over, his kid can probably tell that he’s having a hard time letting them go.

“Dad?”

“Yeah...?” 

“I’ll be okay.”

Hearing them say that would make him smile, trying so hard not to cry. Jake would lean down and immediately give them a huge hug. “I know.” He’d tell them.

“I’m just going to miss you lots.”

“I’ll miss you too.” They’d say, “But. Mom says that I’ll have time to draw pictures probably. Would you like a picture Dad?”

“I’d love a picture.”

As soon as Jake gets back to the car he’s a sobbing mess. He’s so proud but its so hard to see your baby grow up.

Sam

Sort of like Josh I think that Sam is excited for his little one to start school. He has so much confidence in his kids abilities.

Sam would just assume that whatever task is sent his little ones way will be accomplished with all of their effort.

He feels like the kind of parent to hype up school any chance he gets for his kid. He wouldn’t want his kid to be nervous, so he’d say just about anything to keep them from being scared.

When Sam brings his kid in for the assessment he is just going to be absolutely beaming with joy.

He’s just such a proud dad. Getting to see his kid answer questions and have so much fun is going to have him over the moon.

“Buddy you did so good with those shapes! When did you learn those??”

Sam would be on the ball for school shopping. Everything that’s on the school given list and then some.

“Sam... they don’t need a dictionary --- they can’t even read yet.”

“Just incase! You never know!”

*Insert Sam looking for dirty words and snickering to himself*

He’d also want to practice so much with his kid before the big day comes. Going over their numbers and ABC’s so they feel nice and prepared.

When the big day does come around he is immediately going to have his camera out, ready to take some nice first day at school pictures. Whether they are waiting for the bus or he’s driving them to the school.

There are going to be like a million pictures. 

So many.

“You’ve got your crayons?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?! I just want to make sure. Oh and you’ve got your lunch box?? Mom made you such a good lunch.”

“Yup! I’ve got everything!”

“Excellent work~” He’d hum, “You're going to have an awesome first day!”

Danny

Danny I could imagine feeling a little nervous for his little one to start school

He would never tell his kid this of course; I feel like he would understand how well attuned kids can be to feelings, especially nervous feelings.

So he tries to bury his worried feelings.

They’d come out a little every time his baby shows any concerns about school. But he will stuff them down and try to be as reassuring as he can.

“You’re going to make so many friends, buddy! You aren’t even going to notice Mom and Dad aren’t there, y’know? They also have lots of cool toys.”

Danny seems like the kind of Dad that would want them to feel confident. So if that meant lots of new clothes, or cool school supplies. He’d get it for them. Above everything he just doesn’t want them at any point to have a hard time in this process.

In all honesty though he’s the one having the hard time.

His kid is probably hella excited.

Danny sort of strikes me as a parent who would pack a really nice lunch for his kid. Like. This kid isn’t just going to have a ham sandwich like the rest of the loser kids in their class.

#AestheticLunch

The scene I sort of keep running in my head is with Danny standing at the end of the driveway holding his kids hand, they're both just leaning out waiting for the school bus to come around the corner.

“Hey dad?”

“Yeah?”

“...I’m sorta scared.”

“Buddy, it’s okay to be scared. This is a new thing for you. It’s totally okay to be worried about it.”

“I know...”

“Is there something that’s scaring you a lot though?”

The kid would nod, “...I’m going to miss you.”

Danny’s heart would just melt, and he’d pull them up into his arms for a huge hug. “I’m going to miss you lots too! But. As soon as you get home we can play as much as you want, okay?”

Watching his kid get onto the bus is going to be such a scary thing, but he knows it’ll all work out.

I feel like he would plan something fun for afterwards. Whether it be like going to get ice cream, or taking them out to a movie. Just something to celebrate!

Well that’s all of those! Sorry they’re a little bit more briskly written I sort of wanted to get those out of my head so I can focus on the next part of What Friends Do. As always if you guys want an actual full fic written for one of these, let me know~ 

Fun note! My first day of school was proceeded by going to an amusement park on the Friday. Going to a friends house and dislocating my elbow on the Saturday. Having major surgery on the Sunday. And then sobbing my whole first day, the Tuesday.

[doodleimprovement]

These are all pictures of what I see when I imagine the BEST POSSIBLE ENDING for the OtH AU - click for comments (on desktop)

sniff... I love happy endings

--

I think i finally got all of my creativity out designing the outfits. Maybe now I can do some more mermay stuff before the month is over

Click the “Keep Reading” for my head-canons (basically plot points to a fic I don’t have time to write) as to what happens post the fight with Vanessa

As always, this AU belongs to the awesomely amazing @doodledrawsthings

(The Dad beard idea was inspired by @pokeninjager-ghost-art‘s art - who is a genius but also hurt my feelings with that last little collection of doodles) 

With Vanessa gone, Snatcher (Luka? He’s not sure what to go by) is the king of Subcon, and has to figure out what to do. 

The First thing he does is give proper burials to the frozen people in Vanessa’s manor (A difficult task - the florist’s causes a breakdown in and of itself)

Perhaps un-wisely, he burns the manor to the ground and leaves the land alone - hoping that nature will take over and he’ll never have to think about it again. 

He stays on the ship with the kids part of the time, and he takes what riches were left to Subcon (more than you’d think - the manor held a lot of stuff worth a *lot* of pons) and takes it to build himself a home - a nice, decent sized house (And if there are two guest rooms on his floor right across the hall from him that aren’t actually guest rooms it is none of your business)

Snatcher and MoonJumper work together and figure out that Subcon can become a haven country of sorts, offering people a place to start over and live anew 

Their first citizen that isn’t a dweller or Subconite? Cooking Cat. She opens up a restaurant and it is *awesome* 

They also contract Dead Bird Studios to produce commercials and assist with advertising the country to immigrants

Soon, the abandoned village is slowly becoming a place where people actually live again, and Snatcher spends more time there, with Hat and Bow there as often as they can be as they do one more scan of the world to make sure there's no other Time Pieces left behind - something they put on pause after the broken Time Piece fiasco 

Snatcher admits to MoonJumper that he can’t do this alone - that he needs someone’s help and asks MJ to rule alongside him as a “Brother king” - they joke about who is the “lesser”, but it's all in good fun. 

Time passes, and he’s seeing the kids less and less - not because he’s not available, but because they’re not visiting. Snatcher is concerned, but tries not to pry. They had other things to do, he couldn’t interfere. 

What he doesn't know is that the kids themselves are having a helluva dilemma, and spent the better part of a month arguing about what to do. It takes some thinking, maybe a little crying, but they decide what they want. 

And one day, MJ rushes into Snatchers office, telling him that the children’s spaceship just left the atmosphere. 

Snatcher can’t believe it. They’d just leave? Without a goodbye? He rushes outside to see for himself- MJ on his heels, only to be greeted by the girls, who are outside his home with no more than a few bags. 

Confused, Hat holds up a paper to him

Its a contract -handwritten by both of them in their broken English, asking to stay with him for a bit while they look for a place to live, because they sent their ship on auto pilot back to their home planet to get the Time Pieces to safety, but wanted to stay in Subcon. 

Snatcher and MJ both look at the paper with surprise at their choice, and Snatcher tells MJ to “grab the papers - looks like we’ve got time” 

Now its the girls turn to be confused, until MJ comes back and eagerly hands the girls the papers 

They’re contracts of guardianship - drafted weeks prior 

“... How would you like to be the princesses of Subcon?” 

Contrary to expectation, Hat is the one that just starts crying and scribbles on the contract before grabbing at both MJ and Snatcher with Bow close behind

AND THAT'S IT 

THE FAMILY IS TWO KING BROTHERS WHO ARE DADS AND THEIR LITTLE ADOPTED HELLSPAWNS THE END

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Gotham Comic Con”

The Joker and his girlfriend decided to attend “Gotham Comic Con” this year dressed as The Batman and Cat Woman. It took Y/N some time to convince her boyfriend but here they are about to have fun and nothing could spoil the event. Right?...

“Oh my God, this is awesome!” you giggle entering the venue designated for the yearly special event “Gotham Comic-Con” dressed as Cat Woman.

The Joker is right behind you sporting The Batman outfit and he flexes his knees a few times, growling.

“What’s wrong?” you ask although you have a clue because J’s been complaining about since he got off the van parked on Lot B5.

“I hate these stretchy pants! I don’t know how that asshole does it!”

“You’re the one that insisted to come as Batsy,” you reveal point out the truth. “You could have been anyone else.”

“Like who?”

“Cinderella,” you elbow him and your boyfriend is not a huge fan of the concept.

“Why??!!”

“The drama, obviously,” you keep walking alongside him and he’s definitely ready to blow at your insinuation when you gasp. ”Baby, I think that’s Bane!” you gesture towards a massive individual flaunting a Sub-Zero costume.

“How can you tell?” The Joker squints his eyes and the bubbly Y/N has to say it:

“I would recognize his physique anywhere! Plus, he still has the scar between his eyes,” you pucker your lips and The King mumbles a bunch of PG 13 rated things regarding his business partner.

Why?

Last week they got into a brawling and almost killed each other.

The reason?

Y/N.

The Joker believes that Bane always flirts with you (which he does since he likes to refer to you as “a breath of fresh air”); stuff escalated until you had to break it up: J ended up with a busted lip, Bane with a cut between his eyes due to The Clown trying to stab him in the head and you ended up with an inflated ego.

“Hello Mister B.,” you tap the pile of muscles and he turns around to see who’s bothering him.

“Y/N!” he excitedly exclaims, immediately unhappy at the sight of his business partner. “Joker…” the low tone greets.

“Bane…” J sneers.

“What are you two doing here?” Bane inquires.

“Having fun; I finally convinced him we should do this and mingle for once. No better way to spend the day,” the bubbly comment pleases your conversation partner. “So we dressed up and here we are.”

“I must say you’re like a breath of fresh air,” Bane admires your skin tight costume and stilettos which prompts The Joker’s disapproval:

“If you want fresh air, go outside!”

“Make me!”

Oh no! Not again!

“Are you here alone?” you change the subject and distract them from getting into a fight. Not that you wouldn’t enjoy it, but… too many witnesses at the packed Comic Con, it could end up in a total disaster.

“With my niece and nephew. I lost them for a second and I’m searching the premises; they can’t be far,” Bane reports. “Which reminds me: I should get going and find them otherwise my sister will go ballistic. I’ll see you later, Y/N,” he acknowledges you and ignores your man.

“Bye Mister B.,” The Queen snickers at the evident teasing.

“Just her, huh?” The Joker grumbles. “What about me? Did you forget we have a meeting next week???”

“Too bad and super sad: I’m not talking to you!” Bane’s attitude emerges.

“I certainly could care less because I’m not talking to you either!” The King strikes back.

“Then what are we going to do?” Sub-Zero’s better judgement brings up a good argument.

“Y/N will translate!” J proudly states.

Oh no! Not again!

That means they will snarl and make weird noises and you’ll have to guess what it means; an absolutely excruciating task that even a breath of fresh air can’t accomplish without losing it.

Maybe you should let them kill each other. 

“Fine!” Bane decides and distances himself from the couple while the Joker shouts since he has to have the last word:

“Fine!”

“Mister Batman?” the 5 years old dressed as a hobbit shily tugs on J’s cape.

“Hm?” the fake vigilante looks down. The little boy suddenly sneezes and wipes his nose with the fabric as the mad man is less than lenient at someone ruining the outfit replica he paid a fortune to have.

“Goddamn…” and he can’t finish his sentence because a large group of screaming children surround him in a heartbeat.

“Batman! Batman!” they jump up and down hyped up to see their hero.

“Go away!” J attempts to reason with the sea of kids he has no patience for. Of course nobody can hear him over the deafening sounds that attract more offsprings and parents.

“That’s so cute!” one of the moms gushes and takes a picture. “It’s delightful seeing a guy dressed as The Batman performing such a public service for our town!”

“He loves people, especially babies, “ you lie without blinking and immortalize the moment yourself.

“Awww,” a few people sigh touched by your praises.

“He must be a nice dude,” a kid’s dad concludes and you sweetly smile from under your mask:

“You have no idea.”

Somebody from the crowd places an infant girl in The Joker’s arms and the mob goes ballistic!! Rosie cheeks keeps sucking from her binky, glaring at the interesting person.

Clapping, cheering and whistling intensify whilst J feels compelled by his increasing popularity to lift the 6 months old above his head for everyone to see how cool he is.

This is not bad, The King enjoys an endless string of applause and the sudden explosion occurring in the diaper followed by quite a foul smell puts an end to his exuberance.

“Jesus!” he crinkles his nose, appalled. “Whose kid is this?” he yells and the thrilled parent waves at him, taking back the stinky, adorable bundle of joy. “Uncle Batsy needs to run!!” J makes up a random plan although nobody can hear him: the noise is overwhelming after he hyped them all up.  “Let’s bail before they trap me again! Pretty soon I won’t be able to walk, Princess. Everything is crammed in there, a total mess! I hate stretchy pants!!” he addresses his woman and quickens the pace until an atrocious abomination stops him in his tracks.

A specimen mocking The Joker wearing a purple suit is getting quite the attention: over exaggerated red lips smudged over the lip line, tattoo on the forehead that spells “Cabbaged”, a bunch of cheap golden chains from the Dollar Store around his neck and a sloppy green wig complete the assemble in a cringy manner.

You are equally speechless and The Joker manages to utter:

“What… THE HELL… is that????!!!!”

“Ummm… a Clown?” your sassy remark doesn’t score high marks as expected; you feel his eyes burning holes through you.

“You’re hilarious! Would you like to share your standup comedy talents on the stage??!” his index finger points at the platform meant to host a guest appearance from Bruce Wayne in the next hour.

Courtesy of “Wayne Enterprise” sponsoring the event: free food and refreshments for everyone under 18 years old.

You don’t answer and pout, upset J’s pissed attitude is already ruining your mood.

“I’m going to kill that buffoon posing as me!” he inhales full of spite and reaches for the knife hidden in his left boot.

“You can’t…” you hesitantly halt his movement. “Dozens of people, that’s just asking for trouble!”

“I’m not going to let a prick disrespect me!”

“You won’t, we’ll figure something afterwards. We can wait for him outside in the parking lot and take care of it without drawing attention! Please?” you beg hoping he’ll listen to you. “Pleeeaaaase!!!!“ you insist, perfectly aware he’s about to commit murder regardless. “I have a bunch of VIP passes to take pictures with celebrities. You promised J!” you stomp your high heels, exasperated. “You promised we’ll have a fun date!!”

“Why do I have to take pics with celebrities?! I don’t like anybody!”

The look on Y/N’s face: sheer disappointment; most of her features are covered with the mask yet he can tell.

“But I like you so the most I’ll do is take a selfie with you!” The Joker makes amendments on his own terms.

The Queen sniffles, trying to bottle up her emotions and she can’t help it: she bursts up in tears at her boyfriend’s candor.

Oh no! Not again!

Why?

The King of Gotham says nice things maybe twice a year and each time you struggle not to cry but it’s impossible: how can one resist such charm?!

Your complete meltdown makes him roll his eyes while your shaky hand takes a picture of the royal duo.

“Ugghhh…” J’s grimace turns your attention towards him.

“What is it baby?” you wipe your tears with his cape.

He would probably criticize such affront still there’s a pressing issue taking precedent.

“Princess, these tights are making my legs numb. I can’t feel my crown jewelry anymore.”

“Huh?” you forget to weep, startled.

“Cursed stretchy pants! I think I won’t be able to have sex for a month!” The Joker stretches his feet, uncomfortable.

“What??!!!” you raise your voice, panicked. “A month???!!”

Hell no!

Y/N grabs The Joker’s right hand and starts dragging him after her, yelling:

“Out of the way! Out of the way, it’s an emergency!!” whilst everyone is wondering how can someone wearing those 7-inch stilettos can march so fast.

“Where are we going, Pumpkin?!” J is inquiring and you yank at his arm, alarmed.

“To the car!”

“Why?”

Y/N doesn’t have time for explanations: she basically flies across the parking lot to get to section B5, opens the van’s back door and shoves J inside. He lands on his abs as you relentlessly pull on his boots, accomplishing to take them off in record time. Then you heave at his tights, huffing a storm at the stiff garment:

“I’ll be damn if I’ll wait a month for a ride in Funky Town!”

A mother and her 11 years old son pass by and she covers his eyes, horrified at the indecency as she guides him throughout the maze of vehicles.

“There are children here!” the woman protests. “Get a room!”

Luckily, she wasn’t heard by The Clown and his girl because… victory! The stretchy pants are off, J only in his boxers now.

“How are you feeling?” you roll him and he exhales, assessing the damage succeeding Y/N swift actions.

“Not sure, same?... Sit on my lap,” J offers and you don’t need a second invitation.

“Well?” you hold in the anxiety reaching high levels under these dire circumstances.

“Dunno, kiss me and we’ll see.”

You kiss him and he purrs.

“Well?” you interrogate again.

“Kiss me again!” he orders and you put more passion into it since your future happiness depends on it. “Hmm…” J groans. “I believe things are improving.”

“Yeah?” Y/N is about to have another breakdown although J didn’t say sweet rubbish; it’s just that kind of occasion.

“U-hum!”

“Then… what do you say we go home and celebrate your recovery?” you whisper in his ear.

“What about Comic Con?”

“Screw it!” you hop off his knees. “I’ll drive, you focus on your convalescence, ok baby?”

“Ok,” The Joker agrees and begins to stride around the van as Bruce Wayne’s limousine happens to drive by, the billionaire preparing to attend the event he sponsored.

“Stop the car!” Bruce commands at the weird view in the distance: a man wearing a replica of his Batman suit-- helmet, mask, gloves, cape… but no pants or boots, the bottom part of his attire consisting solely of underwear. “Right when you think you saw it all…” he shakes his head in denial, oblivious about who the person is.

Mister Wayne should at least have some empathy for the man enduring those tights for as long as he could; it might not be a record, but who could ever beat the real Batman at wearing stretchy pants anyway?!

Also read: MASTERLIST   

https://diyunho.tumblr.com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

You can also follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

[actuallybarb]

The Aftermath ~ Epilogue

Summary: sam comes up with a hero name for y/n, eugene finally cashes in his favor, and y/n has a friendly conversation with peter parker

Pairing: peter parker x reader

Word Count: 1205

A/N: confession - i hate epilogues. harry potter and the hunger games?? i don’t need that many details, just tell me everything will be alright. hopefully i tied up enough loose ends to feel resolved and left enough for you to draw your own conclusions :)

                                                        ///////////

“This is really what you want to cash in your favor for?”

Eugene Thompson was standing beside me outside the Avengers compound in upstate New York. After the story of my heroics in the city, my abilities and identity were no longer a secret. Which brought on a lot of heat for me and my parents (who were found in a storage unit under the name William Baker, aka Sand Man) and forced us to fly under the radar for a while. That didn’t stop Flash from using his favor the first chance he could.

“Absolutely, are you kidding?”

With the permission of all Avengers present, I led him through the front doors and into the compound, my home for the last two weeks until everyone could cool their shit.

“Come on, they’re probably training.”

We passed by Stark’s old lab that had kind of turned into mine and Peter’s during my extended-stay and the Olympic-sized pool before we made it to the training room.

They were doing capture the flag: Peter was with Bucky and Rhodey while Sam, Wanda, and Clint were together. It probably wasn’t a fair fight considering Wanda had powers, but that didn’t stop them. Ever.

Wanda threw a rubber block at Bucky that hit him square in the chest. “Are you fucking kidding me, Wanda?” he wheezed out. “Can you not?”

“You’ve got to keep up old man,” she laughed. But the little jests gave Rhodey enough time to take the flag across their team’s boundary. “Shit!”

“What did I tell you, Wanda, you can’t let them distract you,” Sam chastised, but he didn’t look too upset about it. He scanned the room and his eyes fell on me and Eugene by the door. “Hey, Elementa, nice of you to join us.”

“Elementa?” I asked with an eyebrow quirked.

“What do you think? I think it has a nice ring to it.”

I smiled. “I’ll think about it. Everyone, this is Eugene Thompson, he’s the one I owed a favor. Eugene, I’m sure you know who everyone is already.”

He just stood there like a fish with his mouth wide open. “I, uh, hi. Hi.”

“You’re the prick?” Oh Clint and his candidness, how I loved it.

“No, that’s Brad.”

“Well, kid, you came all this way. You have anything you want to say?”

“You —“ the words got stuck in his throat before he swallowed and tried again. “You guys are awesome.” They all laughed and smiled. Flash smiled too once he got over his initial shock, then took out his phone. “Can I get a picture?”

He handed his phone to me and the Avengers grouped around him, smiles all around (except Peter, his mask was still on, but he gave an enthusiastic thumbs up). “One, two, cheese!”

“Cheese!”

We walked out of the compound together not much later. He looked up at the huge building and smiled, just a little bit. “Thanks, Y/N.”

“For what? We made a deal.”

“Yeah, but a lot of people don’t keep them these days. So thanks.”

I smiled and gave him a hug. “Take care of yourself, Eugene.”

“Always do.”

//////////

Three weeks later our apartment was freshly cleaned, Dad’s car was ready to drive again, the snow was starting to stick in the city, and I was allowed to go back to school — just in time for finals.

“Hey, Y/N, can you—“

“If you try to talk to me one more time, Brad, I swear to god I will rip off your ball sack.”

“Jesus, Y/N—“

Peter came up beside me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Is this guy bothering you?”

I smirked at Brad’s terrified look on his face. Ever since word got out about my newfound abilities, people had either avoided me like the plague or cozied up a little too close for comfort. At least MJ and Peter were back on speaking terms. “He was just leaving.”

He scurried away real quick.

“May’s getting pizza tonight, want to come over? Ned wants to start watching Clone Wars again so we’re having a marathon.”

“Damn, it’s pizza night? MJ and Betty and I were planning on going to the protest happening at the police station after school, but maybe we’ll meet up after?”

He shrugged, a smile on his face. “Sure. Just take care of yourselves, okay?”

I smiled. “Always. You ready for Spanish?”

“Hell no.”

/////////

The marathon definitely ended way later than expected, but we just kind of made a mega-bed in the living room and all started falling asleep. But I was wide awake.

I carefully stepped over Betty’s head and slipped into Peter’s room, where the fire escape was. Grabbing an extra hoodie from his closet, I climbed the last few floors until I was on the roof and melted a clear spot on the floor to sit on. I wasn’t alone for long, though.

“Can’t sleep?”

I melted the snow beside me to make room for Peter and pulled my knees closer to my chest. “I don’t sleep much anymore, but I never really did to begin with.”

“Yeah, me neither. Not since Beck.”

“Yeah. He was a real piece of shit.”

Peter laughed, but didn’t reply, and we sat in a comfortable silence until the honking horns down below became few and far between. “Are we dating?”

It wasn’t a question I was expecting. Probably to the outside eye we were. We were constantly together, and after all of the time spent training together I understood how Peter’s body moved and how he thought almost as good as myself — that type of connection doesn’t come without chemistry. And we’d gone on at least one date (an argument could be made for more). Y/N six weeks ago would have been over the moon about dating Peter Parker, but Y/N now didn't need the label. Peter had become such a constant in my life it was weird to think of a time when we weren’t together, in any capacity. And it was terrifying to think of a life where he wouldn’t be apart of it.

“I mean, we’ve slept together at least three times now.”

He rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Y/N.”

I turned my head completely to look at him. “Do you want to be?”

He took a minute to reply. “It feels weird when you’re not here. I — I just know I want to be around you all the time. And I don’t really want you to be with anyone else. In a romantic sense, of course, I don’t want you to feel like you have to spend all of your time with me, obviously we both have friends that we want to hang out with but—“ He sighed. “Yeah, I — I want to date you. You’ve been the most consistent thing in my life for the past six months and I don’t want that to change.”

I smiled and leaned my head on his shoulder, then grabbed his hand and interlocked our fingers. “Good, because I don’t either.”

He smiled, his cute, dopey, puppy-dog-eyes smile. “Really?”

I leaned over completely and pulled him into a kiss, both of our lips surprisingly warm on the freezing night. “Really.”

tags: @eridanuswave​ @vampirestrawberries​ @yougottalovefandoms​

[container-of-apple-juice]

Someone requested Naruto’s first time eating cup-ramen foreeever ago. I reserve the right to edit this lmaoo

—

“You are responsible for feeding yourself from now on. Do you understand? Guards will no longer come to fill your fridge. Do you still have the key I gave to you?”

Naruto blinked up at the third hokage from his spot atop the kitchen counter. Only when he saw the man’s eyebrows draw together in frustration did Naruto remembered to nod emphatically at him in response to his question.

But what did that mean? He only had milk in his fridge...

“Good. There is a shop not far from here where you can go to buy groceries. Here is your monthly allowance.”

Naruto jumped as the taller man thrust his arm out toward him, holding out a handful of notes for Naruto to take.

“Spend it wisely.” The third nodded minutely as Naruto took the money from his grasp. He glanced briefly around the small apartment in the silence that followed. He kicked a crayon at his feet.

“Clean this place up, would you?”

And with that the third left his apartment, neglecting to lock the door behind him. Naruto guessed that was his job now. To make sure he clicked his door if he wasn’t planning on leaving the apartment that day.

He looked down at the notes in his hand for a long time. He’d never been given this...allowance before.

He glanced to the right at his nearly empty fridge.

He thought it was strange that the third had mentioned the guards “filling his fridge.”

It had never seemed full to Naruto.

He was sick of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, though. If he never had to bite into another mushed up peanut again he wouldn’t complain. Maybe this would be...cool?

He wondered what kind of things he could buy to eat. And where was this “shop” that the third had mentioned?

He hopped down from his spot on the counter and walked over to his tattered sandels where they lay by the entrance to his apartment.

Naruto noticed that everyone seemed to wear shoes when they were outside and, besides, he didn’t particularly like the way rocks dug into his heels, so he quickly learned that shoes were an absolute necessity if he was leaving his cold room in favor of the wide and open outside.

He reached for the doorknob but jerked back when he realized he didn’t have his key. He ran abruptly over to his unmade bed and plucked the weirdly shaped metal piece off of his pillow.

Upon reproaching the door he took a deep breath, as he always did, and twisted the knob open.

He had run into a few other people (including the old woman from his first adventure outside) on quite a few occasions over the months he’d been permitted to leave his apartment. None of them seemed like friend-material, though, sad as Naruto was to admit it.

They all reacted in a similar way, seeming shocked at Naruto’s presence, only to quickly follow up their surprise with worry or disgust; no one staying for longer than a minute before turning heel and nearly running in the opposite direction.

Naruto even tried to strike up a conversation with a few of them, but no one was interested in anything he had to say. He was just happy when they didn’t spit on him at this point. He shuddered at that particular memory.

He sighed out a breath of relief when the hallway outside of his door was totally empty this time around. He figured he was better off traveling alone than somehow scaring off anyone he happened to see. He didn’t want to upset anyone, he knew better than anyone that the outside world was a scary place.

He wished he could make them see that he was no one to be afraid of.

Naruto shrugged off the thought as he made his way toward the now familiar set of stone stairs that led him out of his apartment complex.

He pocketed the key and gripped his allowance tighter in his tiny fist.

Somehow the two items felt equally as important, and he didn’t want to lose either one.

He figured that any “shop” with food for him to buy would probably not be near the forest or the river (which he often favored over the more crowded area of buildings and people.)

He swallowed down his nerves and walked toward the stone path that lead toward the cacophony of bland colored buildings full of people that probably wouldn’t want to talk to him.

He tried not to notice the ugly looks thrown his way as he walked.

Why did everyone hate him?

He shook his head, trying not to dwell on those thoughts and instead trying to savor the warmth of sunlight on his skin.

He opened his eyes (when had they slipped closed?) and noticed a taller woman exiting a nearby building with a bag in each hand, one of which had something sticking out of the top-

Bread!

The guards had always brought Naruto a loaf of bread! That must be one of the shops that the third had mentioned! (Bread shop!)

He bee-lined for the store in question which had a sign reading “Quick Mart” just above its entrance.

He felt a gush of air as he entered the building and froze in the doorway. He could only see one other person in the building aside from the person behind the desk toward the front.

The older woman seemed to be passing her items to the man behind the counter. Naruto watched aptly as the woman in question passed each item to the man who was clad in a bright blue apron.

Naruto’s breath caught in his throat when the woman passed what he assumed was her own allowance over to the man behind the counter.

He noted the information for future reference and cast his gaze toward his feet as the woman passed by him on her way out of the store.

He felt his cheeks heat up as he walked further into the shop. Bread. He could find bread. That was a start.

Five dollars??

He only had....30!

He leaned up onto his tippy toes and grabbed the bag of bread anyway, not knowing what else to do.

He wandered the isle until he found jelly as well, cursing himself for buying the same thing that the guards always bought for him.

The jelly was only three dollars but...

He shuddered.

He was so tired of peanut butter and jelly.

He shoved the jar of sickly sweet paste back onto the shelf along with the bread he had grabbed earlier, not caring that it was out of place among the colorful glass jars.

He could buy anything he wanted now! Being outside always brought new things into his life. It’s what he loved the most about it! He refused to buy the same thing he had always been given.

He fidgeted nervously as he glanced at different items on their shelves. Anchovies?? Olives?? What the heck was that?? And why did they want almost a quarter of his allowance for such a tiny jar...

He turned a corner sharply and gasped at the sign that laid directly in his line of vision.

$1.00

Naruto had that. He definitely had that. Thirty of that.

There were like, thirty days in a month.

Perfect.

He grabbed as many of the little styrofoam square containers as he could, piling them high in his arms before realizing he couldn’t possibly hold thirty of them.

He hurried over to the counter near the front of the shop with his bounty, dropping three or four of the identical items behind him in the process.

“I’ll be right back!” He shouted at the man behind the counter, probably louder than necessary.

He didn’t bother reading the man’s expression as he quickly turned on his heel and ran back toward the isle he had come from.

The plastic squished uncomfortably against the bare skin of his arms as he cradled them once more, but he paid the feeling little attention as he trudged toward the front of the store once again.

“I have thirty dollars!” He yelled once again, throwing the remaining containers up onto the counter before him.

“......do you need a bag.”

It didn’t really sound like a question but Naruto cocked his head to the side in response anyway.

The man behind the counter held up a thin piece of plastic with handles, expression as bored as ever.

“To carry everything?” The words were unimpressed as the man glanced behind Naruto at the containers of food the younger boy had dropped in his excitement.

Naruto let his jaw drop open. Who knew it would be that easy??

“Yeah! That’d be awesome, ykno?”

“It’ll be ten cents.”

“Oh, uh- I don’t-“

“I’ll just take it out of your total.”

Naruto shifted his weight at the words, not totally understanding the situation but hoping it wouldn’t cost him any of his bounty.

He watched nervously as the man scanned item after item, neglecting to place a good portion of them into the bag.

“You said you have thirty dollars?”

“I-I think so!” Naruto thrust the notes toward the man just as the third had done to him.

The man took the notes from him, seeming to avoid touching Naruto’s skin as he did so.

A few awkward moments later and Naruto was leaving the shop with two bags full of what he was hoping would be enough to last him the next thirty days.

He delights in the fact that the bags are not too heavy as he carries them back to his apartment.

He’s pocketed cool rocks that were heavier than this!

And, trust him, you could not eat rocks. This was already turning out to be a great trip outside.

He skipped the final steps toward his complex and trudged triumphantly up the stone steps.

He leaned one bag against the wall as he unlocked his door and happily scooped it up as he made his way inside.

He glanced at his refrigerator briefly.

He still had milk in there, it was only two months old.

Naruto didn’t think he needed to refrigerate the things he’d just purchased, so his milk wouldn’t need to be thrown out or anything. Not that there wasn’t more than enough room anyway.

He tossed the bags down haphazardly against the counter of his kitchen and eagerly plucked one of the styrofoam containers out of the bag.

He looked at the images on the container. He couldn’t understand what the words were trying to tell him, but he saw a picture of a microwave and water. He could work with that.

He haphazardly tore the plastic and cardboard from the styrofoam cup and let them fall gracelessly to the floor of his kitchen.

He set the cup down on the counter and let out a shuddering breath. Why was he nervous? He had a bunch of these cups, surely if he messed one up he could simply try again until he got it right.

But he should take his shoes off first, yeah.

He kicked the shoes in question off toward the door unceremoniously before turning back toward the counter.

.....maybe he should clean the place up first, like the third had said.

Nearly an hour passed as Naruto picked up his few scattered possessions. He may have gotten distracted by his art supply box, though. He wanted to draw the man from the shop that he’d visited. If Naruto couldn’t talk to anyone, then he could at least draw them- so he would remember them! Plus, he was always looking for an excuse to use his favorite blue crayon. He vaguely wondered if he could buy one of those bright blue aprons that the man wore.

His scribbling was interrupted by the rumbling of his stomach and he froze. He mechanically set the crayon back inside its box.

He tried to channel his nervousness into excitement over his new food options.

Well....option.

He left his drawing and supplies as a mess on the floor behind him (he’d cleaned enough anyway.)

He was grateful that the little styrofoam cups he’d purchased had pictures on them- he neglected to check the directions before he purchased them all, but thankfully he could understand pictures well enough.

He peeled back the top of the cup about half way and peered inside.

What the heck was that?

There were little yellow, green and orange bits inside the cup.

He picked one of the orange bits out and popped it into his mouth.

His face scrunched up instinctively. It wasn’t bad necessarily, it was just...bluh. Nothing special. He appreciated the new texture it brought to him, but he hoped it would be better once he followed the picture’s instructions.

He walked over to his sink, struggling to reach the handles to turn on the water from his place well below the counter. He often hopped up onto the counter to turn the water on, but he’d recently been just barely able to turn it on if he stood on his tippy toes...and lifted one foot...and hopped a little.

The cup quickly overflowed with water and he panicked, jerking it away from the aggressive stream before any of the bits inside had the chance to spill out.

He placed the brimming cup on the counter and hopped in place until he could effectively turn the faucet off.

With a relieved breath he slumped his shoulders, vaguely wishing (once again) that he was taller, before shrugging off his initial panic in favor of returning his attention to the cup of..noodles.

He noted the little indent on the inside of the cup that he assumed was the “fill line” which was indicated in the drawing.

He dumped out some of the water, using his fingers to hold back the dry yet colorful bits as he did so.

Once the water lie just above the line he nodded successfully to himself, pleased with his work.

The microwave was an entirely other journey. He definitely had to jump up onto the counter to reach that thing.

He’d only used it once before, when one of the guards (he had spiky brown hair and a scar on his face) had brought him a bag of microwaveable “popcorn.”

Naruto took careful note of the cup of water and dry food in front of him as he climbed onto the counter with a hop.

He stood barefoot atop the countertop, reaching for the microwave and opening it with ease. He glanced down and grabbed the styrofoam with both hands, reverently placing it on the center of the tray within the tiny compartment that was his microwave.

He swiveled the container so that it’s directional pictures faced him from inside the microwave and he saw the number “4:00” followed by the word “minutes.”

Naruto wasn’t very well versed in reading, but he had caught on rather quickly to numbers, seeing as they dictated how many hours of sunlight he was allowed within a day.

He pushed the number 4 followed by two zeroes on the machine before him, following the actions that the guard had taken on that one day so long ago, with the popcorn.

He missed that guard. He wondered where they had gone since then, seeing as he’d never seen them again.

He pressed the big circular button toward the bottom of the machine which he’d learnt made it start and jumped slightly at the glowing light from within that subsequently sprang to life before him, spinning his noodles around on its little plastic tray within.

Naruto leant onto his knees from his spot atop the counter, staring into the microwave behind the black dots that obscured his view.

He watched his new purchase spin around and around for the entire four minutes- never once noticing an outside noise. His apartment had always been disturbingly silent.

Before the second beep had its chance to disrupt his silence Naruto had jammed his fist into the large button near the bottom of the microwave.

Steam erupted from the tiny styrofoam cup before him and Naruto felt his jaw go slack at the sight.

Was that normal? Had he done it right?

He reached into the small compartment and grabbed the styrofoam cup. It was warm to the touch.

Naruto was careful not to spill its contents now, scared that he would somehow disrupt the cooking process, or whatever magic was going on inside its malleable confines.

He placed it on the counter before him and lifted the paper lid back, jumping slightly as more steam broke loose.

Peering inside Naruto noticed that the contents remained mostly the same as before he had “cooked” them.

He went to prod at the stiff mass submerged within the steaming water and yelped as the hot water scorched his fingertip.

Pouting, Naruto looked around him. How was he supposed to eat something that he couldn’t touch??

He nearly cried at the thought of wasting his allowance. The third would be so disappointed in him.

—

Hours had passed and Naruto had all but chalked up his recent purchases up to a major failure. Maybe he could give the rest of his useless styrofoam cups away to his new friends? (Well, the weren’t his friends yet, but maybe they would be if he offered them his useless noodles?) it seemed sad to even consider.

He had scrapped his drawing of the blue-apron-man as well- the memory only serving to remind him of his bitter failure. All creative inspiration left him and he’s spent the past several hours watching the sun make its way across the sky from his singular window.

His stomach churned angrily at him. How could he be so bold as to buy so many of the same useless thing? He dreaded his next meeting with the third.

Feeling numb, he approached the kitchen counter once more.

He gazed skeptically at the now-cold cup of “noodles.”

He managed to jump up onto the counter with what little strength he had left and stared longingly at the traitorous cup.

The lifeless colorful nuns within the cup called to him uselessly and Naruto dared to prod at the stiff lump that had expanded marginally below the water line.

He could touch it without pain, now, at least.

A small sliver of hope thrummed within his chest.

He pinched a section of the cold, wet noodles between his fingers experimentally.

Dull excitement sparked within him as he raised his wet fingers to his lips and tongued the damp frills of starch.

Oh.

Oh!! Oh yes

Naruto eagerly shoved his tiny fist back into the cold liquid and grasped a full hand of noodles this time, spilling the yellow liquid onto the counter in his haste and all but hitting himself in the mouth with his excitement.

There was so much flavor! It was cold, but exciting! Unlike anything he’d had before- oh yes-

He greedily scarfed down all of the damp, soggy noodles, all from his place atop the counter of his kitchen.

Yes

It wasn’t a waste! He hadn’t failed after all! He felt his stomach sing as he raised the cup to his lips and drained the rest of its contents into his mouth.

Before he could even process his success he had emptied the cup.

It worked.

He was suddenly so thrilled that he had used all of his allowance to buy more of this.

He was determined to try it before it had cooled completely next time.

Oh yeah, he could get used to this.

[my-brothers-corrupted]

Chapter Four - Part 4

The boys try to relax after meeting Dark, but Dapper is ticked off at Anti and there is still tension between Trickshot and Dok.

Tws for alcohol, images of dead bodies, and mentions of torture.

Part 4 - Dark's Memory

“Oh, but Dok, I’m tiredddddd.”

He draws it out like a kid who doesn’t want to do his chores, slipping down into the water until it reaches up to his chin, pouting against the waves of the pool. Dok grins at him and reaches out to snag his hand, leading him around in circles against the wall.

“Come on, my friend. Can’t be sitting around all day even if you’re tired.”

“Help me float?” asks Blue, getting up again and turning his back to Dok.

“Okay, if you want.”

He puts his hand against Blue’s back. Blue lies down against the water and lets Dok steady him, til he’s just resting on the surface of the water, drifting.

“No sleeping though,” says Dok, and Blue laughs. They both wear their shirts in the water. Dok itches at his chest. Through the kitchen window, you can see Trick cooking, and Red sits a few feet away from them, watching the forest and tap-tap-tapping his foot. Dok told him he should do something other than stand guard all day, but he hasn’t thought of anything yet.

pine-storm-season asked: Hello! How are you all doing?

Red looks up and smiles at you. “Aw, been better, but you know. It’s okay.”

He glances over at Dok and Blue. “Getting really worried about Blue after how he was acting last night, but sun comes up and he wakes up and seems okay again. A little nausea this morning. I asked him if he was pregnant. He said that would be more fun than this.”

Red grins and kicks his feet. “He’s grumpy about it, but I just hope he keeps trying to stay up. I don’t blame him for being unhappy. I think, um. He really needs more help than he’s getting. But I don’t know how to get him it. Which is frustrating. I’m not really in charge right now, but I’m still big brother. I’m supposed to be looking after them. And I can’t.”

He shrugs. “But I’ll keep trying. I’ll keep the monster away if I can.”

He still has that kitchen knife, sitting on the grass beside him. He itches at the bandaid on his broken nose.

“How are you?”

Anonymous asked: Whatcha cooking, trick? Breakfast?

“Lunch, technically!”

He stirs enthusiastically at a pan full of ground beef, tomatoes, carrots, onions, and peas. “Making kima. Trying to use the perishables first. So we don’t have to get hungry just cause all the food goes bad. The fridge is really full! Hey, do you know what prosciutto is? There’s a ton in there, but I don’t wanna give Dok ham.”

Anonymous asked: (Chill scenes are totally cool! And I love reading anything you write so it's awesome) But hey! Pool time sounds like it could be fun and/or relaxing. And it could be good for Blue's (or any of yalls) health. -Pink

“Just don’t tell Dap we’re outside,” sighs Blue, standing up and running his hands through his hair. After a few weeks since he shaved it down to white, it’s beginning to grow out again, just a little, and he savors the growing strands. “He won’t stop talking about that thing in our yard. He says he won’t come into the house’s territory, but he wanted us to spend all day hiding. But we figured it already knows we’re here.”

He shrugs and looks back at Dok just in time to get splashed in the face by a sweep of Dok’s arm through the water. He gasps and slaps the water in front of him, sending it spraying up into Dok’s face. He laughs and retreats, cutting water with his hands as he backs away.

“Ass,” gripes Blue, smiling as he follows after him.

Anonymous asked: where is dap, if you don't mind me asking? is he upstairs?

“No, he’s hiding from Anti,” says Dok. “But you didn’t hear that from me.”

“Anti’s so pissed at him he only looked for him once,” adds Blue. “He found him in the top cupboard of the pantry behind the juice-boxes and tried to drag him back upstairs, but Dapper wouldn’t stop throwing a fit, and Anti got so irritated he left before - to quote Anti - he pulled him apart tooth by tooth. You might be able to find him on the cameras if you try since Anti’s stopped coming for him. I hope that he’ll come when Trick has lunch. He eats like a shrew. A dieting shrew.”

“I need to have him out here exercising too,” sighs Dok. “He never get out of his little room most of the time.”

Anonymous asked: It's basically fancy italian ham, so says Google. Maybe Noodle and the rest of you would like it but yeah not the best choice for dok

“Noodle! Come here, baby!”

Trick kisses for his cat til he comes and gets him a slice of prosciutto. Noodle is delighted.

“You’re getting so big,” says Trick, petting his back. He’s a very long cat and getting longer, leggy and thin, still golden as the day he was born.

Anonymous asked: Red maybe you should take up drawing or coloring, just something to do with your hands. I know you have a lot worrying you but maybe it will help you de-stress and focus? I find it helps me anyway. A hobby might be good for you right now

Red nods, considering it. Yeah. He stands up. Sits down again. Stands up. Sits down.

He puts his chin in his hand and sighs, kicking at the grass.

“I haven’t… I don’t really have hobbies, ha. Usually I’m the one with the money for the month, you know, so I have to be thinking about food and entertainment and shit in one handful of cash. And when I do get entertainment stuff, it’s for Dap cause he’s alone in his room, or sometimes for the twins if Dok’s having to cut people up or Trick’s depressed and they need something to take their minds off it. Cause that’s what it is, yeah? Entertainment, it’s a need. In those cases at least. And if it’s not a need I don’t get it. That’s the rule. That’s how you stop your brothers from starving.”

He stands up again, staring out at the forest. “But now I guess I can go draw if I want, and it won’t be wrong. Cause it would have been wrong, yeah? To buy paper and pencils for myself. Dapper would need them more or we would need shit to eat more. And now we’re in this nice place after Dap and I about starved in Colombia and I’m just supposed to act like this is our normal and to do whatever I want. I don’t know how to do whatever I want. And I don’t want… I don’t want Anti to pretend this is our normal. Cause it isn’t. I been hungry too many times to let him try to tell me that.”

He pauses, shrugging. “Sorry, I went off. I do want to go find something to do. I wish I had something to color, that sounds fun. I could go look for books or something with black and white pictures. And art shit. I don’t know if there’s any here.”

Anonymous asked: hey, dap? how are you doing?

For a second, there is no sign of him - or not of him moving, anyway. He seems to have shucked off everything he didn’t want to wear as he ran, his tight black dress shoes discarded in the hallway, his clean white dress shirt dangling off the coat hook. There are cuff-links waiting to be stepped on. He may or may not be wearing pants.

But in the office with the grand brown desk and the high, glass-covered shelf full of alcohol in progressively fancy bottles, a slight motion alerts you to an irritated, red-rimmed eye peering slowly out from the side of the desk to check on the beeping noise from the camera - and then, just as quickly, ducking out of sight again.

Anonymous asked: hello, dap! is something wrong?

Liquid sloshes. Dapper glances back at you again, his mouth miserably down-turned and his eyes angry. He hides away again for a few minutes. He’s sick of Anti looking at him all the time.

“I hate Dark,” he spits finally, adjusting a little so you can see him. He’s got a blanket on and all his stuffed animals arranged beneath it around his legs. His pencils are scattered beneath the desk, his sketchpad covered in meaningless circles of colors he can’t tell the difference between. He throws back a bottle of Jameson and drinks deep and hateful. “I hate Anti for bringing us here. I want him to go away!” He coughs as the whiskey burns.

Anonymous asked: Ah... why are your clothes on the floor Dap?

“I don’t want to wear all this stupid shit he puts me in,” he signs. “I don’t want to be cute and perfect, I’m not his perfect little pet thing, not his dog to dress up in a tutu, not cute all the time, sometimes I want to be a man, or I at least want him to know I’m a man, not treat me like a little boy. I only want to dress up when I want to dress up and I don’t want any more stupid little kid hoodies or dumb socks unless I pick the dumb socks. I, I, me!”

He shakes his head, distress creasing through his anger, and he drinks like he’s got something to prove, his face red with crying and alcohol.

“Stupid baby stuck in my fucking crib all day.”

He sobs and then strikes the side of the desk, gritting his teeth. “Stupid little boy never runs from his dad.”

Anonymous asked: anti's not here right now, though. do you want to go be with your brothers for the time being? anti isn't here to be able to do anything to any of you.

“He shouted at me all morning, he’s angry,” grouses Dapper, flicking his golden Christmas knife up and down in his hand. “He said he’ll tie me up upside down until the blood rushes back into my head and makes me stop acting stupid; I said if he tries to make me stay in that room again I’ll bite his ear off in his sleep; he slapped me til I cried.”

His ear is bruised purple on the right and there are nail marks around his wrists. He shivers and curls in on himself, bitter and tired, scratching at a hippo stuffie with textured fur.

“I don’t want to go where everybody’s staring at me, I don’t want to go where Dark can see me, I don’t want to…”

Anonymous asked: Huh boy. Would you mind some drinking buddies? We don't have booze but I can act like a conversational bartender that takes all your problems and sound then into advice. Can't guarantee it'll fix things but we're listening

“That was most of my rant unless you get me started again,” says Dapper wearily, slumping back against the desk so his head disappears and you just see his skinny chest and legs poking out. The thought of it is funny and you hear him giggle, flipping over on his side to hide his face in his blankets.

“I’m sad. Comfort me, Panchito.”

He draws his stuffed Peruvian bear to his mouth for a kiss. It’s hard to tell if that’s his dry sarcasm again or not. He might just be drunk.

“My heart hurts.”

Anonymous asked: How much did you drink so far? Not too much to be dangerous for you I hope

He huffs out a tired sigh and shows you the bottle. There’s more than half of it left.

“You’re going to babysit me too? Not eighteen yet? Just because I don’t age. I didn’t ask for that. I didn’t ask to watch everybody else get older around me while I still look so much younger. I didn’t ask for everybody to make me the baby. What’s wrong with being quiet and nice and cute sometimes? I still want my brother to respect me. I’m not little… I’m mute and I’m psychotic and I like being nice and wearing jumpers and sleeping with a bear. That doesn’t mean I’m not a grown-up. I am a grown-up and I’m clever and tough and I want things. I want to make choices. I’m not five. Not. And if I had got to make a choice, I wouldn’t have chosen to come back to be toyed with by somebody who hurt me.”

His face scrunches up like he might cry, but he doesn’t. He rubs at his ruddy cheeks.

“But I still never go away… so maybe I’m just all talk. Just his baby brother.”

He stares down at the gold of the alcohol.

Anonymous asked: okay, that's fair, dap. do you want us to ask one of them to come be with you here instead? it might make you feel better to have someone like blue with you instead of being alone.

“I don’t want to get scolded,” his hands confess. “I know I’m being stupid. No one else has to share my stupid with me. I know I’m being grouchy and negative and unhappy. I know. They don’t have to put up with me while I’m like this.”

He is very small beneath the largeness of the empty office.

“Even Anti doesn’t put up with me when I’m being a brat, and I’m supposed to be his. Everybody likes me better when I’m smiling and put together. He always just leaves and comes back when I’m too tired or when I’m done sulking. That’s what he thinks he can do this time, just wait for me to decide it’s not worth it. And I always do. I always let it go. Because I know he doesn’t care, so why fight about it? Things are worse when he’s mad at me. But he really hurt me yesterday. That’s worse than when he used to smack me around all the time, before I snapped and he realized how scared he used to make me.”

nikkilbook asked: Red, what if you go find Dap and ask him to draw with you? Let you keep each other company while you do something for you.

“Where he at, though?” asks Red, ducking into the house. “Dap?”

No answer from the wide halls. He trails through the house looking for him.

Anonymous asked: If you want to be mad, J, be mad! Be drunk! These are your decisions and your emotions so express them. We want you to be safe but if you trust your judgement to drink responsibly by yourself, go for it, my guy.

“Be mad, be drunk,” he repeats a little more enthusiastically. After a moment he lowers his bottle and sighs.

“I am not being responsible, though. You are right. I don’t want my brothers to think I’m trying to hurt myself again.”

He sets the bottle gently aside, at least for a few minutes.

Anonymous asked: i don't think they'll mind much, dap. anti cares more about control than love, but the others don't. everyone has unhappy days, especially people in bad situations. we don't have to ask, and they don't have to agree, but we'll ask if you think it would make you feel better, okay? we can ask them not to scold you or anything too.

“He is my heart,” says Dapper cryptically, holding his knees to his chest. “That’s the rope he makes me wear.”

He turns at the sound of someone calling for him. He puts his head against his knees, mouth pursed, but after a moment, he tells you, “They can come see me if they want. But they can go, too, if they want. I have never been there for any of them, truth be told. Not for a long time, anyway. And even then, wasn’t I always just the needy little victim…”

He’s spiraling, his eyes getting dark. He covers his face with his hands.

Anonymous asked: i think they'll be happy to see you, dap. red's looking for you, he wants to know how you're doing. do you want us tell him where you are?

“I think it would be okay. I don’t want him to be disappointed in me.”

He stares down at the floorboards.

“There was a while when Dok and Trick first broke when none of my brothers knew anything about me, just my name and that Anti loved me better than them. I couldn’t talk to them and I couldn’t see them, but I would hear them through the walls and pretend they loved me too. It was lonelier having them in the house than when it was just me and Anti. But even when I felt totally… just… unloved, even when he didn’t even know me, Red would sometimes buy presents for me and leave them outside my door. And it was like there was a little remnant of what we had that was still alive. Or like even if he didn’t even know me, he still would be my brother and look after me however he could.”

He blinks. “I’m rambling again. I am drunk. I don’t want him to have loved me better before he knew me than now, when he’s beginning to see who I am, that’s all.”

Anonymous asked: Dap, you are one of the bravest, strongest, most downright terrifyingly intelligent men i have ever seen. And heck, im a grown up. I still sleep with my stuffed animals! And I color just to color and i eat candy for breakfast from time to time. I watch cartoons and i cry and I do all sorts of things. But im still an adult, and yes, you are too. You are strong, and you'll get through this. -Pink

“Yes, I’m terrifying,” agrees Dapper, nodding his head, determined to believe it. “I’ve killed, like, a lot of people.”

He pauses, touches his mouth, scrunches up his face in thought.

“I guess that is the opposite side of the spectrum. In terms of being taken seriously, I want to be somewhere between Strawberry Shortcake and unattended luggage in an American airport, thank you.”

nikkilbook asked: Room with a desk and alcohol, Red.

Red turns towards the right side of the house, shooting you a confused look at half of Dapper’s clothes scattered around the hallway. He pushes on and into the office, stopping short in the doorway.

Dapper stares back at him with wide eyes and a trembling frown, wiping at his face and clutching his bear to his stomach. The Jameson shudders on the floor nearby, drained by a couple glasses. Red blinks.

He sighs through his nose and then moves to sit down beside Dapper, squishing himself into the space beneath the desk at his side. Dapper sniffles and looks anywhere but Red’s eyes, downcast and humiliated.

“Okay,” says Red, making himself comfy. “Give me that.”

Dapper startles and turns to him. He glances between Red and the bottle, blinking.

“Yeah, come on!”

Dapper lets a sigh drift out of him, disappointed. He is just the little kid of the family. He turns the bottle over to his brother.

“Yeah, that’s right,” says Red. “No fucking drinking alone.”

He tilts the bottle back and drinks. Dapper laughs, turning towards him, clasping his hands together over his heart.

“Red,” he signs, giggling.

“Fuck, that burns!” spits Red, shaking his head and his hands. “That’s nasty!”

“Can’t handle it?” teases Dapper, scooting closer to him, delighted.

“Hey, I haven’t had a drink in a long time, okay?”

“Chug, chug, chug, chug - ”

“Don’t even start!”

Red and Dap laugh, huddled over the alcohol and the stuffies, squished together beneath the desk. Dapper clasps his hand through the blanket, leaning forward to set his head down against his shoulder.

Anonymous asked: How's the liquor Red? Bad? Well probably not since this was a rich dude's stash but the difference between expensive and cheap probably doesn't matter for someone's whose goal is to get drunk

“That is correct, for one,” coughs Red. “And also I know jack-shit about alcohol, unfortunately.”

“It’s good!” says Dapper. “It’s really good.”

“Babe, it’s nasty.”

Dapper laughs. “You can’t tell.”

“I can’t tell. All alcohol is disgusting. I mean I just - I don’t get the appeal. If it’s not like the fruity ones that actually taste nice? It’s nasty. I have never find an alcohol I want more than just, like, a nice orange soda.”

“Do you guys want lunch?” hollers Trick from the other side of the house.

Anonymous asked: Get one of ur brothers to bring the food up like a delivery boy lol

“Heyyyy,” hollers Red down the hallway. “Bring me food!”

“No,” shouts back Dok.

“What does he want?”

“Someone to bring him food.”

“No!”

“Blue, you’re supposed to be my twin!”

“I’m sick! You should be bringing food to me, if anything! Aw, look, Trick’s got me a plate already. That’s why he’s my favorite.”

“Hey!”

“All of you shut the fuck up!” shouts Anti.

Just to piss him off, Dapper stands up and sticks his fingers in his mouth, whistling as loud as he can until Red leaps up and makes his stop, laughing and horrified at the same time. “You are one dumb, bold, black and white firecracker, little brother.”

“Guess that’s why we get along,” answers Dap.

Anonymous asked: damn, orange soda!! that is the best soda, you are an individual of refined taste, red. in terms of lunch, trick's making kima - Indian dish with veggies and beef, basically - it looks p good. are y'all gonna want any?

“I want kima. Come on, bud.”

“There’s the monster in the forest.”

“They’re not going to snatch you while I’m here, bud.”

“You don’t know that,” answers Dapper wearily, but he lets Red lead him towards the hall.

aether-mae asked: Y’all need to eat, and also drink some water or you’ll get hangovers. *paps both ur heads* stay safe kids

“Yes, we do,” agrees Red fondly, pulling him down the hall. “Come on, so. Hey! Whoa, man. How drunk are you?”

Dapper has crashed into his chest, blinking fast. “Dizzy,” he signs.

“You shouldn’t have had that much.”

“I didn’t!”

“Let’s just get you some food and water, okay? You’ll feel better.”

He leads him into the kitchen and then decides against sitting him down at the island, turning to leave him beside Blue on the couch. Dapper sways dizzily, rubbing at his head.

“Hey, my darling, what’s wrong?” asks Blue, reaching out for him. “Dok, come here.”

“He’s okay,” Red insists. “He just, uh. Got into the liquor!”

“Hey!” cries Dok, anger and alarm slicing through his face. “Hey, why! Why would you do that?”

“Dok, come on,” Red protests.

“No, don’t ‘come on’ me! Alcoholism runs in our family and he had a suicide attempt this month. Not to mention Haldol interacts with alcohol! You’ll be dizzy all day.”

Dapper shakes his head, staring up at Dok with big blue eyes. He didn’t know that.

“Don’t give the doctor puppy eyes! It’s stupid, Dap! You want to get to drinking everyday, huh? You want a fun hangover so someone has to look after you? You want to be drunk all the time and then I can’t get you to wake up and it’s four in the morning and I told you to stop, I told you not to have so much, I keep telling you - !”

“Dok!” Trick cuts him off.

Dok stops, closing his eyes.

Trick’s face is guilty and drawn in the kitchen. He turns heavily back to his cooking, dishing meat and veggies onto flatbread.

immabethehero asked: Ooh what are you having???

“We are having kima,” says Trick wearily. “It’s meat and vegatables with paprika and curry powder. You put it on flatbread.”

Everyone’s gone mostly quiet, Red shuffling his feet against the carpet. Blue lets his head fall against Dapper’s shoulder. “I’m taking a nap, good night.”

Dapper presses his head against Blue’s. Trick brushes his hand against Dok’s back as he passes his brother, still standing in the middle of the room, scowling down at the floor.

Anonymous asked: Liquor on an empty stomach leads to a nasty hangover. Go get yall some lunch! And drink some water too. Please and thank you!

“Yes, eat,” insists Dok with a sigh, taking a plate from Trick and giving it to Dapper. “So you’re not sick. Can’t be drinking without food. And water. I’ll get you a bottle if I can find one.”

He goes digging around for a water bottle in the kitchen while Trick passes out food. He slices up a huge white peach and gives everybody a sweet, thick slice as footsteps come down the stairs and Anti appears on the banister, staring moodily down at them. Red and black burns disappear into his shirt from his shoulders and neck, but he doesn’t flinch or whimper, just scowls.

Dapper is tense. Dok tries to ignore their brother as he brings him a water bottle clinking with ice, sitting cautiously down beside Blue and Dapper. Red hovers in front of them, folding his kima into a taco and taking a bite in a pretty good semblance of normality.

“It’s good, Trick.”

“Don’t have to sound surprised.”

“Thanks for cooking.”

“Course.”

immabethehero asked: You know what you should try? Red Lobster cheddar biscuits. They’re from America and they’re delicious!

Everyone glances at the camera. “Uh, yeah,” says Trick. “Those sound good. I’d have to have a way to look the recipe up. But I can make good biscuits. Better than KFC, seriously.”

“I think maybe Blue did actually fall asleep on me,” says Dapper uncertainly, trying not to move too much.

Red sits down beside his brother and props up the plate of kima on his twin’s thighs, just in case he spills, taking enthusiastic bites of his lunch. “You’ll let him stay with us again tonight, yeah, Anti? He’s so tired. You don’t want to wear a body like this right now anyway, right?”

Anti shrugs, his eyes flickering. He turns away, playing with his knife, glancing back up the stairs.

Anonymous asked: Laying it on a little thick there, Dok. I understand you're upset but you don't need to reprimand him in front of everyone, least of all Trick. Taking care of others mistakes that they knowingly make can be hard, but harsh words won't improve things.

Dok raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. Trick sighs, shaking out his head.

“Let Dok have his reaction and Dok will let Dapper have his,” he says. “He already backed off. I don’t need to be coddled like I can’t handle the consequences of the choices I’ve made. But thank you.”

cest-mellow asked: you guys should have a pool party ! take your mind of all the stress, dark shouldnt come to your house territory anyway right..?

“Yes, right,” says Red, watching out of the corner of his eye as Anti decides to head back upstairs, stomping with every step. He’s gotten used to watching for Anti’s warning signs with his other siblings, but he has no idea how his brother will react to Dapper resisting like this. He’s never seen the two of them fight in front of the others, and he’s never seen Dapper quite this mad at him. Any of his other siblings could have lost fingers for the things Dapper’s done in the past twenty-four hours. Red shivers and shakes the thought off. “Yeah, Anti says Dark won’t come into the boundaries of the house, whatever that means. And if they show up in the yard again, I’ll fucking take a knife to them, swear by it!”

“Don’t talk like that,” mumbles Blue, rubbing at his eyes. “They’re not something you should mess with, I don’t think.”

“Well, I think we should go outside and sit around the pool, anyway,” says Red, reaching out to start tugging on pants legs - oh, Dapper is wearing slacks after all. Red grins up at his siblings. “Come on, come on! Need some sun!”

“We were just in Peru!”

“And still so pasty white!”

They end up sitting around the pool, Trick and Dok side-by-side at the far end, kicking their legs in the water and making sure the other eats enough while Dapper sinks down into the water like a tiger on the hunt, warm in the water. Red sits Blue down in the pool chairs at the side and they take a moment to look at each other, mimicking each other’s expressions as a game until Red makes a face so stupid Blue snorts with laughter and breaks character, sitting back in his chair, smiling in the sun.

aether-mae asked: Y’all keep an eye on Dap while he’s in the pool in case he’s still dizzy

“Good idea,” agrees Dok.

Dapper puts a hand to his forehead and faints dramatically, slumping back into the water. Red actually does leap up to his feet before Dapper surfaces again, grinning.

“Not funny, Dapper!”

“Dapper, that’s not funny!”

“Carver! Don’t!”

He giggles under the weight of their disapproval and they seem to roll their eyes at him as a collective, smiles flickering on their mouths.

Anonymous asked: Ah the facade of normality, so sweet yet so frail

Red and Blue glance over at you, eyebrows shooting up. Blue doesn’t seem to appreciate the message; Red looks a little unnerved.

“Don’t be weird,” grumbles Blue, turning back to his family.

“That’s my job,” says Red, kneading his hands together. “To make things feel normal when they’re not. Or safe when they’re not. Or okay when they’re not. I - ”

Blue puts a hand on his knee. “It was a weird message,” he says, squeezing his knee. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

Red nods, turning his attention back to him.

“Hey, will you go get me more water?” asks Blue.

Red is happy to do so. He gets up, taking their cups with him.

It is then that your screen changes in a way it has never glitched, fizzled, or blacked out before.

Someone has taken an Illumination effect to your screens and turned the color all the way down, down, leaving everything monochrome and night-struck, casting them all into shadow. Blue sips at his water as Red returns and you see something smoky and liquid fill up the glass as he puts it against his mouth. In his chair, Red tilts slowly back, until his body is stiff and unmoving against the back of the chair. Dapper is not rising from the pool. Dok and Trick have fallen asleep against each other, and their faces, as you watch, grow more and more hollow. The skin tears on their grey cheeks and white bones glimmer in the dead light of the sun as the color of the pool darkens and darkens and darkens. Blood drips from Blue’s mouth as his eyes flicker and close.

“But you know the truth, don’t you?” comes a cold, drawling voice, deep enough to drown in. “It is just a face - sweet as honey. Frail as mortal bone.”

There is an echo to the voice, not layered like Anti’s, but repeating after it, sometimes changing the way they said it.

“Frail as mortal bone…” it whispers.

“I suppose he put you up to this. You always do whatever he tells you. Play any game he gives you. His loyal, naive little followers. But it doesn’t much matter,” shrugs Dark, flickering into view, blue and red, at the edge of the forest, standing on a cane. They do not appear to you the way they appeared to Anti. Gone is the rot, the decay, the death of them. They are upright and beautiful, with black eyes that glitter like the stomach of the night sky. Black hair curls neatly around their ears and eyes. They are dressed neater even than Dapper, a suit perfectly tailored along the fine curves of their strong body.

They look harmless, respectable, attractive. They are smiling at you.

“I like playing games, you see, with anyone other than him. He’s not here right now,” their voice drawls, low and whispered, as though to make you lean closer to your screen. “So I have a proposition for you, old friend.”

“I have a proposition for you, old friend,” spits the echo.

“It looks like you’ve been watching these poor pets a long time. Attached, are you? I can see glimpses, here and there… illness, torture, sickness in their minds… does it just kill you to watch them being hurt again and again, never getting away?”

“Never getting away? Trapped? Does it just kill you…”

“Bring one of them to me,” says Dark, smiling broadly at you. Their teeth are white like a snake’s. “Bring all of them to me, if you want. And I’ll be kind. I promise. They can rest a while. I have people who can give them anything they want.”

“Anything they want.”

“And no one will hurt them while they’re with me.”

“While they’re with us.”

“But if you don’t… I have more creative ways to bring them with me.”

They smile at you, dark eyes flashing. At the poolside, Red is on the ground, unmoving. Dok and Trick’s chests bleed as twins. Dapper seems to be glitching, thrashing with drowning one moment, still the next, thrashing, still, thrashing, still.

“Don’t disappoint me,” Dark whispers.

They wink. They disappear.

“Thank you, Gigi,” you hear faintly, and then it is all over.

Your screens are normal again. It is a sunny, beautiful day. The boys are unharmed, Dapper chasing a tiny frog around the side of the pool while Red and Blue split another peach and Dok and Trick splash water at each other, laughing. A bird calls, overhead. Everyone is fine.

pine-storm-season asked: Cameras went weird for a moment, was that just for us? It's probably not anything important, I'm just curious if you guys noticed anything about it too.

“Cameras went weird?”

Red turns to pick up a handheld, turning it in circles as he examines it.

“Looks fine,” says Blue.

“Yeah, I don’t know. We weren’t paying close attention, though.”

Anonymous asked: The boys might not have noticed that... "thing", but did Anti also see it?

Anti shoots you a look from his bed, where he’s sitting with about six computers surrounding him or perched on his lap. “I don’t know what the hell you assholes are talking about, but nothing happened in my systems. If something happened, it went through your end of the system, so sucks to be you if you have a virus other than me, but I’m fine.”

He doesn’t look fine. He looks pissed off and exhausted and unhappy. But that’s probably unrelated.

Anonymous asked: Uh Anti should you really just be going sucks to be us considering that the one who sort of appeared to us seems to be threatening your boys...

Anti stares at you for a moment. Then he bursts into laughter, incredulous. “Yeah, I reckon they fucking did! I was the one who invited them to play this game, you know that right? Fuck. Obviously they threatened them, I told them to try and goddamn kidnap them! Oh, goodness… sometimes I wonder about the lot of you.”

Anonymous asked: So what's your plan here then, Anti? Wouldn't you want to keep them safe from other stuff??

“I thought I explained. I never understand why humans don’t understand when I explain things. I don’t understand what they don’t understand.” He pounds on his keyboard as he types, frowning. “I told you this is someone I… trust. I mean, it’s Dark. They’re my… they wouldn’t hurt my pets. We’re just playing games, that’s all. Dark knows me. I know Dark.”

cest-mellow asked: why would you want dark to kidnap the boys, anti? what happens if they succeed?

“If they snag one of them, they can have Dap for a little while,” says Anti, grinning. “That was the deal we made in the forest. But if not, they’ll help me like I want them to. And that’s the thing, really - even if they do win, I bet they’ll still help me do what I want. Just might have to make up for it in… other ways.”

His smile only grows. He glances out the window like he’s waiting to see Dark again, swaying slightly on the bed.

Anonymous asked: Doesn't it worry you that they know about the cameras and can show us things that you can't see? You don't see that going sideways?

“Fucking Gigi! I’ll kill him! He got into my cameras?”

He leaps to his feet and stands at the window, peering out at the forest, beaming. “Fuck, I knew that little cheat would ask the others for help. Well, doesn’t matter. Gigi may be a force to be reckoned with, but I bet Red can out-hack him. I’ll get him a computer.”

Anti turns back to you, a fang poking out of his mouth. “Besides, I don’t care what they show you. There’s nothing you can do about any of this.”

bupine asked: what other ways, anti? hopefully not something like sacrificing another brother. trick wouldn't like that, would he?

Anti snorts. “Oh, fuck… no. You misunderstand. I meant… other things. But I assume some of you are minors, so I won’t go into detail.“

Anonymous asked: I volunteer Trick

Trick blinks, huddling down at Dok’s side. “Hey! What am I being volunteered for? Guys? Ha, Dok, they’re Hunger Games-ing me. You gotta be my Katniss.”

Dok doesn’t look back at him. His eyes are fixed on the doorway to Trick and Red’s room.

“Dok,” Trick insists, pushing at his shoulders. “Hey, the cameras are talking, you like that. Did you float away on me again?”

Dok shakes his head, turning back to his twin for a moment. “What? Oh, no. I’m here.”

“You’re jumpy all day,” whispers Trick, nuzzling his head down against his shoulder.

“It’s past eight,” says Dok. “Anti should have come to get Blue and Dapper and I. But he hasn’t.”

“He’s just having a hard couple days. Let him rest. It’s okay.”

Dok just stares at the door.

The night has come quietly. He is not the only one who’s tense. Red and Dapper are huddled on the windowsill signing and whispering, Blue laid sleepily across Red’s lap, though his keen blue eyes, at the sound of Trick and Dok speaking, turn and fix on you.

Anonymous asked: Blue, you doing okay?

Red and Dapper pause to look at their sibling and Blue sits up, waving their concern away. “Getting into bed,” he mumbles.

“Okay,” Red answers him, reaching out to pull his head in for a kiss.

Blue crawls into bed, carrying a handheld with him. His eyes shift around the room in warning.

“I thought Anti would come back and make us go upstairs with us, but he’s left us alone. That means he’s planning something. It’ll be worse than just dragging us up the stairs or knocking our heads against sinks until we stop fighting.”

He sighs, deep and hurting.

“I don’t know how to protect them from it. Any of them. Even if he doesn’t touch Trick, he gets his trauma secondhand from watching the rest of us get beat and then it’s all buried under this veneer of amnesia and fake love. Even if he doesn’t touch Dapper, he’ll shove him back into a headspace he hates and make him a slave again. Even if he doesn’t touch me, I have to feel him beneath the skin.”

He pulls a pillow to his chest for a hug, closing his eyes. He needs to calm down.

“I think I could almost convince Red to get them and go,” he whispers. “But there’s that thing in the forest…”

He shakes his head and sighs. His eyes flash open. He looks at you. “I promise Dok and I are working on things,” he whispers, so quiet you can barely hear him over the sound of Pot Noodle hopping up onto the bed and padding towards him to purr like a motorboat in his ears. “I promise…”

Anonymous asked: You're doing great, Blue. This is a really hard situation. You're doing incredibly well, okay? We're here to help, and you have your brothers with you too.

“Thank you,” he says. “That’s nice, really. I want to - I want you to have a better story to read. I think about that sometimes. I want you to see us happier. I want that.”

Dapper giggles in the windowsill and Blue looks up, some of the stress fading into warmth on his face. He and Red are huddled together over one of Dapper’s old sketchbooks, coloring together, the colored pencils you got him for Christmas scattered across the ledge. Blue hums a little, his foggy eyes seeming to clear, if only for a moment.

“Yeah, they’re here. They’re with me.”

Anonymous asked: dok, you good?

Dok is humming to himself, something you’re not sure you’ve ever heard him do. It is a discordant melody. His leg bounces in time with the beat. Trick doesn’t let himself look worried. He wraps his arms around Dok’s shoulders and pulls his body close. He expects Dok to go stiff and silent like he sometimes does. The best thing to do has always just been trying to bring him back down to earth.

“Yes, fine,” says Dok.

His face tightens with pain. Trick is hurting him from holding on too tight. But his twin doesn’t know he’s been beat, cut, and strung up by chain all within the last few nights, and he won’t let him know. He can’t. He can’t go upstairs again. He can’t stay upstairs again. There are spiders in the closet. There are spiders on his skin. He’s crying.

“I am right here,” says Trick, again and again, buried low against his shoulder, pushing you slightly away with his foot. “I am right here.”

“He’s going to come hurt me,” whimpers Dok, hiding against him. “Every night, I… I…”

“I think it’s ‘they,’ buddy,” Trick corrects him gently. “They won’t get you long as you’re in the house.”

Anonymous asked: Trick I know you mean well but I don't think anything you could say to Dok would make him feel better. Everything's a bit off but just... stay with him.

“That’s my job, to make him feel better,” whispers Trick, and something in his voice is wounded and aware. Something in his voice knows this is not wrong. “That’s my job…”

He leans back a little to look at him, but Dok just follows his body, chasing the side of his face with his own and pressing them back together like puzzle pieces stuck together in the box. Trick touches the back of his head.

“You are still a half a world away from me,” mourns Henrik, touching Trick’s wrist. “Wo ist mein zwilling?”

“Here,” protests Trick. “Hey, don’t say that, don’t, I… ich bin da. Always.”

Henrik thumbs at the pulse in his wrist.

Anonymous asked: trick, be gentle with him, okay? i don't think he wants to be squished right now. dok, you're gonna be okay. i know, it's scary and confusing and awful. but you're not in danger right now, bud. try to remember that, okay? you're not in danger right now.

Trick eases his grip around him, confused enough that he glances over to you for guidance. He strokes gently at his back. “It’s true. Not in danger.”

“Never feels that way anymore,” mumbles Dok. “Never.”

Trick bites down hard on his lip. He’s known Dok could probably use counseling for a long time, but it scares him every time he feels like he can hear Dok reading out of a DSM when he’s talking about himself. He scratches his fingers across his brother’s scalp.

“Tell me one thing I could do to make today better,” Trick urges him, trying to smile. “Yeah? If you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong or what’s going on, you don’t have to. I’ll just be here. Tell me instead something that’ll make tonight better, okay? Cause we got just about everything we want in this big ol’ house. Right?”

A smile pulls at Dok’s tired lips.

“Yeah, there. Come on. What’s something that could make right now better?”

“I don’t know,” says Dok. “I don’t know, I… I’m sorry, I don’t have ideas.”

Anonymous asked: blue, and i suppose everyone, do you wanna know something funny? dark is anti's Complicated lover haha

Did I say that Blue was exhausted? Have you seen the dark bags beneath his eyes, the aching way he holds himself, the leaning of his body against the thin strength of the cane? Have you seen Blue’s fatigue in every line of his skin?

Suddenly, he is wide awake.

“No. Fucking. Way!” You hear him cry, and immediately he’s laughing so hard he shakes Noodle on his chest. “Holy shit, holy shit!”

“That’s horrible,” cries Red. “Hey, don’t even joke about that! That thing looked like a goddamn skeleton!”

“No way, no way!” howls Blue. “Nooooo, that’s too funny, holy shit! Are you kidding me? No, how does Anti even pretend to be anything’s ‘lover?’ Holy cow… oh, I don’t want to imagine the things I’m imagining, hahaha!”

Dapper rolls his eyes so hard they might get stuck back there and gags.

Anonymous asked: maybe a blanket, or a bit of food, dok? or should we see if there's something else you'd like?

“I could build you a fort,” says Trick, grinning. “With pillows and blankets.”

Dok smiles at him, entertained by his enthusiasm. He shakes his head.

“No? I could… wrap you up like a burrito. With Noodle on top.” He pulls his cat off the bed and presents him to Dok. “Do you want to be all wrapped up with your Uncle, Noodle Pot?”

Noodle meows, sniffing at Dok’s face. Dok closes his eyes, feeling his whiskers across his cheeks.

“I could feed you, yeah, all you want,” says Trick, touching his brother’s ribs, proud to feel a little weight on his body again. He hates the magicians for a lot of things, but at least they fed him well. “There’s brownie mix in the cupboard, you know. I been saving it.”

Dok tilts his head, biting on his lip. “That… might be good.”

“Yeah?”

Dok nods, smiling.

“Come with me,” says Trick, leading him to his feet. “You can curl up in the loveseat and I’ll make you brownies, okay?”

Dok loves him.

“Yes,” he says. “Okay.”

Anonymous asked: just gonna throw this out there but trick uh, anti hurts him. you could help him by keeping him away from anti, and not mentioning him. if you don't believe us, look at his bruises

“Red and Dap are getting along,” says Trick. “Look at them, oh-so-secret, bent over their little book together.”

He almost wants to make fun of them - usually, that makes Dok laugh - but he can’t. Not at that. It’s… nice. It’s good.

“Good for Dapper not to be alone,” murmurs Dok, sitting in the loveseat as promised, petting Noodle luxuriously. His brother’s cat squirms his way up his body and rests against his neck, purring warmly. “And he isn’t the only one getting on better with Red.”

Trick glances back at his twin almost guiltily, stirring brownie mix and eggs and milk together. “I… don’t want to be at odds with him, I decided. We fight, but we’re brothers too.”

He pauses, pouring the mix into a pan. “That’s… okay, right?”

“Why would it not be okay?” asks Dok, confused.

“I don’t know. I just want it to be okay that I - that I sometimes - that you’re not the only person I love.”

Dok stares at him from the chair.

“Like - I want you to know you’re still important, even if I have other people. It doesn’t mean I love you any less if I love somebody else.”

Trick’s cheek stings suddenly. He startles, reaching up to touch his face. He can almost feel the indent of fingers against his skin. He doesn’t know why. It disturbs him.

“Hey, dummkopf,” says Dok, and he turns to see his brother staring warmly back at him.

“Love’s not brownie mix,” Dok tells him, grinning. “It doesn’t thin out as you spread it.”

Trick grins back at him, huffing out a laugh and popping open the fridge. “So what you’re saying is it’s more of a viscous Jello of some kind?”

“That sounds horrible.”

“You started it.”

“I don’t know what it is, I just know it’s not caramel cluster brownie mix.”

Trick laughs.

Dok’s voice has gone soft and earnest by the time he speaks again.

“You do not belong to anyone, my brother,” he says. “Your heart doesn’t. It was meant to be free.”

“You could write poetry for Blue,” answers Trick, only barely teasing. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Dok repeats, with feeling.

“What bruises?”

“What?”

Trick’s voice has changed in an instant, flinty and trembling. Dok looks up from Noodle, confused. Trick is staring at the camera. Then his eyes flicker over to Dok, hard. “What bruises, Dok?”

Dok pulls their cat closer to his stomach, shaking his head. He turns his eyes away from his twin.

“Why do you keep getting bruises? Show me.”

“No,” says Dok. “Leave it alone, Trickshot.”

Anonymous asked: hey, trick? please leave it be for now. come back to that later, maybe, but i think it would be good for you two to just hang out with each other and be happy for a bit.

Trick’s eyes flash between you and Dok, advancing on his brother. For a moment, he considers it - you see it in the uncertainty that crosses through his face.

But Trick, though he often forgets his aggressor, is, in many ways, fighting just as hard as Blue and Dok are. And he knows something is wrong.

“This is scary,” he says, his voice cracking. “Don’t you get that?”

Dok laughs loud and broken. “Do I get that? Do I?”

“This is the first time in my life you’ve kept something from me,” Trick keeps on. “Someone’s hurting you - or you’re hurting yourself. And you won’t tell me about it.”

“I need you to trust me - ”

“No, I need you to trust me!”

“Well, I don’t!” screams Dok, loud enough to startle Noodle off his lap. Their cat streaks away, racing back towards their room. “I don’t! You think I’m fucking hypnotized when you’re the one whose head is messed up! You wouldn’t believe me if I did tell you! I can’t count on you! I can’t trust you! Fuck, it’s like you’re not even my brother half the time!”

Trick’s mouth hangs open. His eyes aren’t even hurt - just horrified.

Dok hears himself breathing heavy. Hears the echo of the words like an afterimage on his tongue.

“I - I - ”

Trick can’t speak around his stammer. His hand flutters and comes to rest over his heart.

And then he regains himself again.

And he straightens up.

And he looks at Dok again, kneeling gently down beside him.

Dok feels his own eyes burn. He doesn’t even know why.

Trick touches the open palm of his hand and they breathe together, side-by-side.

Long minutes pass. Trick lets his anger and his hurt go.

Just like that. It doesn’t matter. He’s what matters. His zwilling.

When he pulls back the long sleeve of Dok’s torn coat and finds dark fingerprints in his wrist, Dok does not stop him. Trick rests his forehead against the bruises and grieves them.

“Just… tell me?”

Dok is threading his fingers through his hair. He doesn’t reply.

Anonymous asked: trick, please. i'm not gonna tell you what to do or not to do, but just,,, be aware? pushing dok on this will hurt both of you. like, emotionally. you're picking the scab on an infected wound here. do what you will, but think about what it is you want to do here

Trick sighs very long and very deep. He gives a shaken laugh. Doesn’t know why.

“Does someone know?” he whispers. “Someone who loves you?”

Dok nods.

“Yes, I promise.”

“Is it going to stop soon?”

Dok blinks and tears run down his cheeks. “I really hope so, my brother.”

Trick kisses his bruised wrist, resting his head against Dok’s lap.

“I want to take you to Singapore,” he says suddenly, curling his fingers around Dok’s. “I really think you would have liked it there. I thought about you every time I was happy. I could show you all the places I liked.”

“That would be fun,” says Dok. “I want to push you in the Lion fountain.”

“Ohhh, Dok,” says Trick, because what the fuck else is he meant to say? “Ohhh, Dok.”

He would like to give him worlds and worlds, but all he has are brownies.

Anonymous asked: dok, are you going to say? you don't have to though, love, it's an honest question.

“I just - I just want to see you trying to think for yourself again,” whispers Dok. “Please? It scares me when you don’t act like yourself. I think maybe, secretly, he’s suicidal or wanting to hurt himself again.”

“No, Dok, I feel good,” protests Trick, clutching at him. “I promise, I promise! I would tell you, I promise.”

“But there are these moments where you’re not okay. I keep seeing them! Like suddenly you’re freaking out and you need to break in half.”

“It’s just - I don’t know why that happens, but it never lasts long, bro, it never does.”

“I’m scared you’d get angry at me if I told you the truth,” admits Dok in a croak. “I’m scared I would see just how much you’re really not yourself. That maybe I would think you aren’t going to be yourself again.”

“Hey, stop,” answers Trick. “Look, that… don’t, that fucking stings. Don’t say shit like that. Like I’m losing you. Hey, it’s not fair. I’m trying to be a good brother.”

“I’m sorry.”

Trick rubs at his reddened face, sniffling as he gets up to check the brownies.

Dok turns away. “I think you already know who did this anyway,” he adds, so soft you’re not sure Trick hears it. “But it’s too terrible for you to admit.”

Whether or not he did, Trick doesn’t turn around. He is getting the brownies out of the oven. He doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t.

Maybe he didn’t hear it. Maybe.

“I think you already know,” repeats Dok, even quieter. “I think you do.”

Anonymous asked: hey, dok? you and trick and your other brothers will be okay. i know it might be hard to believe that, but don't lose hope, okay? you're gonna be okay. things will get better. i promise.

“Every time I look at him I think, over and over again, ‘I have to get him out of here, I have to get him out of here, I have to get him out of here,’“ says Dok in a hush. “It’s the worst part of the torture. I have to get him out of here. He doesn’t even know.”

He digs his fingernails into his palms and closes his eyes, trying to find his strength again, his hope, like you said.

“I don’t want to be tortured anymore,” he says, his voice creasing. “Things have to get better. I’m scared all the time. But we’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. We’ll get out of here. You promised, yeah? You promise…”

Anonymous asked: Hows the coloring coming guys?-Pink

“Good,” says Red cheerfully, bonking his head against Dapper’s as a sign of affection. Unfortunately, Dapper is not familiar with this form of affection, and he reels back like a startled cat, nearly falling off the windowsill. Red doesn’t notice. “Dap said I could color his old drawings since he never uses color. And I was like, bro, I don’t want to ruin your drawings! They’re yours! But he says he can hardly tell the difference and he doesn’t mind.”

“I have dozens of sketch books,” says Dapper. “These old ones aren’t even that good.”

“Hey, don’t be a dumb-ass,” protests Red, genuinely affronted on his behalf. “They’re really good!”

He holds up a black and white hummingbird. Color is seeping into its feathers, starting at the breast. Red is not particularly neat in his coloring, but his colors have an organization of their own to them, like he’s giving motion to the body of the bird.

“They’re all good!”

Red begins flipping through pages. A bear with its teeth showing. A city in Japan through a small window. Anti. A raccoon, a pinata, a half-dozen clocks, a dark figure with swept-back hair.

Red blinks.

Red stops.

Red stares.

“Hey,” he says. “Hey, that’s the Darkness.”

He stares up at Dapper. Dapper stares down at the floor, mouth twisted.

Eyes scared.

“Dapper? What’s going on?”

Anonymous asked: dap, do you feel like saying? it's okay if you don't, this is an extremely stressful situation and i think red will understand.

“Red, Anti won’t listen,” signs Dapper rapidly. “He doesn’t understand. For once, it’s not his fault, but he doesn’t.”

“If he won’t listen to you, that is his fault,” answers Red humorlessly, and you hear a little of his twin’s bitterness in his mouth.

“Be that as it may. You and me and - well, Max - ”

“Max,” repeats Red, for no reason at all.

“We’re the only ones who know about what I did!”

Red sighs, trying to think. “Slow down, slow down. You’re talking about… when you snapped?”

Dapper’s eyes are wide, soaking in moonlight. He nods once. “Do you remember?”

pine-storm-season asked: Could you elaborate, please, Dap? I don't think we really know what happened. You don't have to, though.

“We talked about it. How our old master forgot.”

Red’s eyebrows raise. “Right… Max said he went to see that guy, J - ”

Dapper shoves his hands over Red’s mouth, eyes wide. He pauses for a second before drawing away, making sure Red gets the message.

“Right,” says Red, flushed. “Guess that isn’t a safe name to say.”

“Our old master forgot us,” says Dapper. “Our creator. Even though he made us. When Anti got his hands on him, I was psychotic and I was scared for him. I snapped - and created a whole separate timeline from the correct one.”

“Right,” says Red. “Like a timeline where we shouldn’t even exist. Where none of us happened, so Anti can never hurt him. That’s why the cameras said there should be videos of us on that Youtube channel, but there aren’t. Because this is a different timeline.”

“Yes.”

“Dap, we better pray Anti is asleep.”

“He’ll just think we’re losing it if he hears us talking like this. But that’s the timeline we’re in now, Red - one where it’s like we never even existed.”

Red pauses, picking at his lip. “So no one would know we exist.”

“Right.”

“Even people we used to know, people we know we had connections with… to them, it’s like we never existed.”

“Right!” cries Dapper. “That’s what you have to remember me saying, or the rest doesn’t make sense. I snapped the timeline. That’s why our old creator doesn’t remember us. That’s why no one remembers us. Like we talked about at the motel in Colombia. Okay? So listen: I broke the timeline trying to protect our creator and I spliced different pieces together. Now, it’s like no one created us at all, like we just came to be. So no one remembers us at all, even if we think they should. Understand?”

Red laughs. “But, Dap, that’s not true!”

Dapper blinks, drawing back from him. “How do you mean?”

“People do remember us,” Red insists. And then, softer: “Max remembers me.”

Dapper looks away, thinking. He rubs at his mustache. Red can almost see his little brother’s brain whirring away like the inside of a computer.

“But… the old master doesn’t remember us.”

“Well, that’s not really true either,” says Red, making Dapper’s head snap up. “Remember? The way he reacted to Max coming to his door wasn’t normal. He didn’t act like Max was crazy. Max said he kept saying our names. Over and over and over.”

“Like he was trying to remember,” says Dapper uncertainly.

“Yeah.”

“Like, even though the timelines snapped…”

“There’s still some people who remember us. Even though it’s like we didn’t exist.”

“Why would they do that?”

Red shrugs, looking down at his hands, fidgeting. “Dap, I - when I found Max, it wasn’t like he was… new. I mean, I forgot everything about him, yeah. But it was still like… like he was a piece of me.”

Dapper looks down at his hands.

“Maybe,” he says after a moment. “Maybe it’s possible, that even though I broke the timeline and made it like we just popped into existence instead of being created… maybe there were some people who were so much a part of us, and us so much a part of them, that I couldn’t just take us away from them.”

“And they remember,” agrees Red softly. “Like we’re trying to remember. Like… girls who smell like cigarettes. Like Trick said. She’s a part of him no matter what happens and what Anti takes or what timelines you shift. Some things - some things don’t get erased. Not even by powerful magic. Some people are too important to forget even if you did snap the timeline.”

Dapper pulls at his beard, silenced by the realization. Red turns his head, peering out the window, where the great darkness of the forest waits, looking back at him.

“So the question is… was Anti important enough to Dark for them to remember him?”

Dapper curls his hands together over his heart, closing his eyes.

“And what will they do to us if they don’t?”

[x-wingkc]

Effects of Stargate

This turned into a long post. We all have things in our lives that we hold on to because they mean very specific ‘somethings’ to us. Some of us have blankets or ornaments that we have had since we were babies because they mean something. Some of us have printed pictures because we were alive before the digital age and the Internet. And then there’s massive numbers of us who have entertainment etched in our souls because a TV show or movie meant something to us at a time when we really needed it.

Star Trek was always my thing. I grew up watching TOS reruns with my dad, and he let me know a new Star Trek was coming out when I was in high school. I had a shitty high school. I did. My family was awesome, but I remember being bullied and just not having a good time in high school. We didn’t have the Internet, but kids are still mean if they chose to be mean. 

Star Trek TNG literally saved my life. It became a family affair to watch. We had a VHS recording machine that would record when I couldn’t be home. I’ve spent the last few years or so going to conventions and thanking each and every one of the main bridge crew for what they have done for me. I’ve met them all so far except Sir Patrick. I wrote to him, and I hope he knows what he has done for me. 

Then there’s Stargate. The show started when I was in the Navy. The movie came out when I was stationed in school in Tennessee. A few of us went to see it and I thought it was freaking awesome. But that was it. Or so I thought.

In the USA, Stargate SG-1 premiered on the cable channel Showtime. I was stationed in Pensacola, FL and was an E-4. I had zero money for cable at the time. Then in 2000, I got stationed in Hawaii after spending 13 months stationed in Diego Garcia. In Hawaii, I was part of a small 10-man deployable satellite tactical support facility for P-3 aircraft. I was the only female. And deploy did we ever. I was gone a lot with the guys. I got along with them all for the most part, but we didn’t see eye to eye on some things. But, they always looked out for me no matter how we felt about each other. My second year there we got a new guy in the unit who told me about SG-1. That new guy would go on to become my husband of almost 18 years now.

I still didn’t pay for cable. I was in Hawaii. Why would I spend my time indoors watching TV when I could be outside paddling or surfing? By then, 2000, I think I recall SG-1 coming out on DVD in the USA. I remember buying a DVD player and watching. Holy shit I was hooked! I was watching another small deployable military unit with only one female in it! And I also was hooked on MacGyver, so I already had the hots for RDA. 

Then there was Amanda Tapping. I’m not sure I can even put this into words how her character of Samantha Carter affected me, but her portrayal was spot on. Sam wasn’t oversexualized at all (at Amanda’s demands that her character not be). Sam seemed real and someone who you could hang out with after work. Sam inspired me on deployments to places I have no desire to ever return to. She is smart. She is beautiful. She is confident. She’d kick your ass if you deserved it. She stood up for herself and her team. And after all of that, Samantha still knows how to love. Amanda made Sam relatable in a time when I really needed it. I have ALWAYS wanted Sam and Jack to be together. Always. 

I would bring my DVDs home to visit family on leave and me and my mom would watch at least two episodes a night. I brought my DVDs on deployment with me so I could watch one episode before having to sleep on my 12 on / 12 off rotations. The realness of the show, and the realness of Samantha Carter have stuck with me all this time. Then I found out about this awesome world of fanfiction so now I write about Stargate on AO3. I love this community and am so grateful I have found you!

I have been out of the Navy since 2004, and yet Stargate is still very much alive inside of me, and fans want more. I’ve tried to see Stargate folks at cons, but something had always seemed to happen and then I couldn’t go. I was supposed to FINALLY see Amanda at Momentocon this year, but COVID. I even paid for a meet and greet with her, and I was to be in the seat directly next to her. Thankfully, it transferred to Momentocon 2021. So I am still holding out to finally see Amanda.

It seems we are getting closer to having a new Stargate show. While I will watch for the mythos and technology and all that is Stargate, all I really want is my Sam and Jack confirmation. We all can say SG-1 and Atlantis gave us enough clues that they are together, I just want it on the record. I’ll be 50 in February 2021, and to this day I gush over Sam and Jack. And that is OK. It’s OK for us to have things to dream of, write of, draw of, paint of, dance of, and talk of. This world needs the arts more than ever. How awesome will it be to have Stargate come back and feed our imaginations again!

https://www.gateworld.net/news/2020/09/5-chevrons-locked-mallozzi-hints-new-stargate-progress-revisiting-destiny/

[artificialqueens]

Come Home to My Heart, Chapter 3 (Lemyanka) - Plastiquedoll

read on ao3 ✨| chapter 1 2

A/N: hi! I hope you like this new chapter as it goes deeper on the feels™️ I really wanted to give the characters more background (and a little bit of angst whoops) and finally, there are new names dropping yay! Again, there’s a time skip of two years this time. Enjoy & thanks for reading <3

-3-

When Priyanka turned fifteen, she discovered new things she loved. She loved dying the tips of her hair with bright colors every two weeks and a half, she loved skateboarding, she loved being the center of attention and a little bit of a class-clown at school, she loved hanging out with her group of friends, she loved the phone calls with Lemon to catch up and talk shit about everyone…

“Okay, can you hear me now?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s better.”

Priyanka peeped through the hallway hoping no one would decide to interrupt them. She nervously removed the shiny red nail polish with her teeth as they tried to re-connect, if her mother saw her she would’ve scolded her on the spot. The landline phone was solid red plastic with buttons and wires, it was age-worn but at least it wasn’t like her grandparent’s phone with the rotary dial system or it would take hours to get all those area code numbers correct and get Lemon on the other side.

“Thank God. I’m literally inside the closet just like in The Parent Trap. I told my mom I was calling my grandma because last time our phone bill had several zeroes.”

Priyanka chortled and entangled the curly wire with his fingertips. “Sorry about that… so, you were saying… about the audition?”

“Oh, right! I’m trying to get into this dance academy that’s supposed to be the best of the best and the audition waiting list is a nightmare… but they called me the other day and said I’ll have shot in two weeks.”

“Oh. My. God. Lemon that’s awesome!”

“I know! I feel it, Pri. I know I can do it but… I don’t want to assume anything until I get there. I’m confident in my skills but what if they perceive that confidence as cockiness or something like that. I was talking to Jan the other day and she said-”

“Wait, who’s Jan?” Priyanka frowned before the unfamiliar name.

“Jan. Jan! My friend Jan? We have Biology and Math together, remember?”

“I don’t think I’ve heard her name before.”

“I’m sure I have mentioned her… anyway. Jan is madly talented –like, she can sing- and she auditioned for music school like a year ago and told me that…”

Jan. She hadn’t mentioned a Jan before… it was weird for Priyanka that knew all Lemon’s New Yorker friends’ names and she was pretty sure Lemon remembered all her friends’ names as well.

“… anyway, I’ll keep my head high and hope for the best. I’m training extra hard these days to make it. My muscles are sore and I can’t feel my legs right now but hey, no pain no gain.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great.”

“Thank you.” She paused as if she wanted to say something else, Priyanka could hear her breathing, but then she continued chattering. “Also, my mom got promoted again and now she bought a computer I can e-mail you the day of the audition. But tell me, how are things over there? Did the girls work their differences yet?”

“You know Scarlett, she won’t shut up and-”

“Priyanka, it’s dinner time.” Her mother announced from the kitchen.

She sighed. “Shit. I have to go or my mom is going to cut the phone wires. She says this time is for real.”

“Oh, okay… I’ll call you soon then.”

“Yes, please call me right after the audition or before if you wanna talk… you know. Break a leg or whatever… make sure is figuratively speaking, please.”

She heard Lemon’s giggle on the other line and something inside her went softer.

“I will… and I will be there for Christmas this year, I made my mom promise it.”

“Fingers crossed.” She said before hanging up.

When she looked at herself in the mirror she had a silly grin on her face that couldn’t be erased.

Lemon hadn’t been back in a long year and a half. After spending the first holidays after her parents’ divorce with her dad in Canada, she had to spend the next one with her mom in the Big Apple. Plus, her father got to travel to New York quite often those days and got to see her a lot. She sometimes sent things for Priyanka with him, a nice hoodie, a makeup bag, one of those stupid tourist t-shirts with the Statue of Liberty printed on it, sometimes a pair of dangling earrings or a simple letter and a picture of her. She treasured each of those little trinkets.

Priyanka was saving money from her allowance and was hoping to get a job soon so she could buy a car someday and visit her friend in the big city, they might even go on a road trip over the summer, it was a nice thought to hold onto until they could hang out again.

On the day of Lemon’s audition, Priyanka was restless. She got kicked out of one of her classes because she kept fidgeting, twitching, moving around, and chewing gum. It drove her teachers insane. Scarlett and Kiara mocked her from the window of the classroom and then got a warning as well.

Later that day she cleaned all her room to avoid thinking. She found several pictures of her and Lemon over the years –including that one time they tried Lemon’s mom makeup for the first time, Lemon was missing her two front teeth-, there were some photos from their first days of school and even Lemon at Priyanka’s plays. She was so pissed when she got that old lady role instead of the main character but she had managed to steal the scene anyway.

As the sun was setting, she didn’t know what else to do. She did the dishes without offering resistance and then got into an argument with her little sister who wanted to watch Hannah Montana while Priyanka just wanted to watch the new episode of America’s Next Top Model. She had to admit it though, the intro of Hannah Montana was kind of catchy (something she would never admit to her sister).

It was almost quarter to nine and she still didn’t have any news. There was a two-hour time difference with New York but still… it was gnawing her from the inside.

Right when Tyra was about to reveal which model got to stay for another week, the phone rang in the hallway and she couldn’t jump out of the couch fast enough.

«You have a phone call from-» Press one to accept, yeah, yeah, she knew that.

“Lemon?” She didn’t even wait for a «hello».

“Pri? Is it you?”

The sound of her voice brought her back to life, she could hear the sound of her heart beating again.

“Yes, it’s me! How did it go?”

“Oh my God, Pri… I’m calling you from a payphone in the middle of Times Square, this is insane. The girls lend me some cash to call you.” Priyanka could hear the sound of the traffic and even some giggles coming from outside of the phone.

“And? You’re killing me here, Lemz.” She had her fingers crossed even when she couldn’t see that gesture through the call and was holding the phone against her ear with her shoulder.

“It was so difficult I thought I was never going to learn the steps I’m literally so exhausted right now but…”

But.

“I got it, I got the spot!”

Priyanka started screaming.

“Priyanka!” Her mother shouted.

“Sorry…sorry!” She covered her mouth with her hand.

Lemon was cackling.

“Lemz, I might get in so much trouble for this but… Congratulations, I’m so happy for you!”

“Thank you.” She sounded truly happy, Priyanka wished she could see her right at that moment. “Jan, can you give me another quarter? Thanks, doll.”

That girl Jan again.

“So what are you girls are up to?”

“We’re going to get some pizza to celebrate. Jan is here as you heard, so are Goona, Rosé, Jackie… They say hi.”

“Tell them I said hi too.”

“She says hi… No, I’m not telling that, shut up…”

“What is it?”

“They are being assholes as usual… Listen, I have to go, I’m running out of coins and I still have to call my mom.”

“Okay, we’ll talk soon… I’m so happy for you… Love you.”

“Love you too! See you in a few weeks.”

“Yeah. I can’t wait.”

“Bye, Pri.”

She hung up but stood next to the phone for a moment, staring at it.

Just a few more weeks.

Priyanka kept begging her older brother to teach her how to drive. It took a few weeks of insistence until he gave up and the lessons started. They only stopped when the snow got too thick and the roads too slippery to practice. Still, by that time Priyanka was almost an expert. She needed to perfect her parking skills before turning sixteen and that would be it.

She also needed a car but that was the least important part.

“So when’s your girlfriend coming to town?” Scarlett asked.

Priyanka choked on her hot chocolate and coughed a couple of times. “Lemon’s not my girlfriend.”

Kiara rolled her eyes.

“Ah, yes, I can’t wait to finally meet her!” Juice –the latest addition to their group- said.

They were at the coffee shop, outside was freezing cold and the smell of fresh-baked pastries had dragged them inside the warm environment. Scarlett was having a black coffee while Priyanka and Kiara had their respective hot chocolate with marshmallows and Juice ordered a cappuccino with whipped cream and sprinkles on top.

“So?” Scarlett arched a brow.

“Her flight is booked for next week if the snowstorms allow them to fly.”

“I remember you two from primary school; they were joined by the hip, even before you shared diapers or something.” Kiara mocked.

“Oh, that’s right. You were in her classroom in kindergarten back when Ilona prevented everyone from playing with her.”

“That’s because Lemon spilled some paint over Ilona’s drawing… it was kids’ things. We all forgot when some random kid wet his pants or whatever.”

“And when did the crush began?”

Priyanka shot daggers at Scarlett with her eyes.

“I don’t have a crush on her. She’s literally my best friend, you guys are delusional.”

“Sure…” Kiara stirred her chocolate. “But it’s been what? Almost two years since she graced us with her presence?”

“Yeah, her parents didn’t want her to travel alone last time so her father flew to New York.”

“All jokes aside,” Scarlett changed her irksome ‘let’s pick on Priyanka’ tone for a minute. “Are you going to tell her about…?”

At the age of fifteen, Priyanka discovered she didn’t like kissing boys.

It had been at a lame party in a basement, her classmates had invited her and one of them suggested they should play seven minutes in heaven. Priyanka was about to skip it and refill her paper cup with cheap vodka and orange juice when she got dragged by the wrist and pushed into the closet with a guy from the hockey team. She suspected he had a crush on her for the longest time and this was instigated by his friends but the moment the door was locked, she panicked.

Her friends tried to get her out of there but there were a few underdeveloped brains and much muscle blocking the door. So she guessed she was doing it. The guy wasn’t that bad –she liked to believe- he told her they didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want to and he was what most girls of the classroom referred to as «handsome». Priyanka shouted she was okay to calm down her friends and figured the best she could do was getting over it once and for all.

It was her first kiss.

The guy had rough lips and a slippery tongue and it was in the middle of all that smooching when his hand went under her lower back that she knew, she wasn’t enjoying it at all. She pushed the guy aside and used the back of her hand to clean her lips, she’d need some mouthwash as well. He asked if everything was okay but she was too condescending and told him that she was feeling dizzy.

The door was unlocked when he asked his friends to do it. Priyanka walked back –ashamed-to her group of friends as Kiara told them they were all disgusting and how stupid the game was. Priyanka called her brother from a phone upstairs and left soon after. For the first time, she was quiet on the way back home.

Later that night when she was laying on her bed in the darkness, she couldn’t stop thinking about it, thinking about how she was supposed to feel kissing that guy -any guy- or thinking about the fact that she wasn’t even remotely attracted to boys but mostly, thinking how she so wished that guy was someone else, how she wished that guy was a girl.

The following week at school the not-so-nice-guy had told everyone that Priyanka was basically a slut and if it wasn’t because she was so wasted, they could’ve gone to third base in that closet that very night. Priyanka wasn’t ashamed anymore, she was angry. Very angry. During lunch, she walked directly towards him and exposed him in front of everyone, not only denying the absurdity of those rumors but also stating that she would never even consider touching his small dick.

After that, Priyanka was done with guys, boys, and men in general.

She had a heart-to-heart conversation with her friends afterward but –to no one’s surprise- she ended up with the least heterosexual and most supportive group of friends in the world.

Still… she hadn’t been able to tell Lemon yet. She had tried but there was something about phone calls that didn’t help at all, she wanted to tell her in person, she wanted to see her face and know that everything was okay. And she planned to do it during her visit.

“I’ll try.” Priyanka stated, hoping the universe cooperated with her.

“Good. So you can make out under the mistletoe next.” There she was again.

“Okay, you two,” She pointed at Scarlett and Kiara. “you have to stop it or I’m going to do you guys dirty and you know I can.”

They started laughing, clearly taking Priyanka’s threaten lightly.

“That’s it! You,” She directed toward Kiara. “I have seen you drooling over Kyne the entire semester.”

Kiara went pale.

“And you two…” She turned back to Scarlett and Juice that were cackling sitting on the couch. “Yes, I’m talking to you, do you really believe I haven’t seen the way you look at each other, those stolen glances, the subtle touches? Please, is this a Jane Austen novel or what? You ain’t that smooth.”

“Hey! I didn’t say anything!” Juice protested.

Scarlett’s mouth turned into a thin line and her ears were suddenly pink colored. She murmured something Priyanka couldn’t catch but rhymed with «witch».

“Sorry girl, I warned you heads would roll and I’m not leaving any survivors if that’s what it takes.”

Scarlett put her hands up as a sign of surrender. “I respect it, you’re a bitch but I respect it.”

So that was the word she used.

Lemon would arrive at any minute now.

Her father was picking her up from the airport, they would have lunch at some fancy restaurant in the city center and then he’d drop Lemon at Priyanka’s house until sunset –that was when she had to leave again to have dinner with her relatives.

Priyanka kept moving her right leg, restless while sitting on the couch, eyes nailed on the window.

“Priyanka, take the trash out, it’s your turn.” Her mother told her casually as she directed upstairs.

“Mom!” She complained. “I’m doing important things.”

“You’re sitting on the couch.”

“My point exactly.”

Her mom gave her the glare. “Trash. Out. Now.”

She grumbled but did as asked.

Priyanka put on an extra thick coat over her jeans and knitted orange sweater, adjusted her wool socks and boots, and adventured to the exterior world of the Canadian winter wonderland. She only had to walk a few steps but she could feel her body freezing with the icy breeze. The snow was blinding white and she could hear the whistle of the wind blowing and the sound of her own teeth chattering.

She didn’t even hear the sound of the car stopping right at the entrance of her house nor the door closing or the steps.

She barely had time to turn around when an identified running person hit her like an asteroid. Lemon was small but she still got the strength to tackle Priyanka down with a hug. She didn’t even notice whether the snow was cold or not.

“Hey!” She was still down on the ground and needed to turn around once Lemon moved. “You’re here…”

The vision was dazzling. Lemon’s face, her eyes, her smile from ear to ear with full teeth showing, her blonde hair falling like a cascade over her rosy cheeks. It was as if she had been taken from an Andersen fairytale or a Tchaikovsky composition, ice queens and fairies fluttered around Priyanka’s head.

“I’m here! Can you believe it?”

She was still pretty much straddled on Priyanka, making the brunette blush and hoping she could blame it on the weather. Finally, Lemon got to stand up and helped her friend to get on her feet again.

Lemon was irretrievably tiny but there was something different about her since the last time they had seen each other. She looked less like the little girl Priyanka remembered and more like a teen pop star of the magazines they used to read with her slightly curled lighter hair, pink glossy lips, longer lashes… She was wearing a yellow sweater and a white puffy jacket with matching fake fur around the neck, corduroy pants, and cream boots. Even her glasses were stylish now.

“Wait, are you taller?” She observed.

“No, you just shrunk in the washing machine.”

Lemon elbowed her and then turned to wave at her dad that was still in the car.

“He told me he saw you in the supermarket the other day and asked what does your mom feed you with so I could get some too.”

Priyanka laughed at loud. “He got you there.”

“Ha. Ha.”

“But enough with my height, let’s go inside, I think I got snow on my socks and I don’t want to catch a cold or wait until another short person attacks me.”

“Hey, you said enough with the height.”

“No, no. I clearly said mine, not yours.”

Lemon rolled her eyes and there it was the old Lemon she knew so well, the exact dose just a little less sugary and a bit sour.

They went to Priyanka’s room, she shared it with her middle sister but she was currently busy practicing at music school with her cello for her end of the year concert, there were a few trophies, certificates, and distinctions on her side of the room meanwhile Priyanka’s was a collage of pictures with the girls, an album cover Avril Lavigne, one large poster she got from the local cinema when Spice World was brought back for a special feature and she forced her friends to watch it for the millionth time, some random doodles she did in class and of course, photos and postcards Lemon had sent to her.

The blonde smiled when she spotted a picture of them from their first day of primary school, their backpacks were bigger than them.

They removed the heavy coats, Priyanka changed her wet socks for new ones and a pair of slippers. Lemon was prying into the mess that was her desk, her fingers roaming through her school books, comic books, magazines, and scattered papers as if she tried to figure out if she still knew the owner of that space in the way she used to.

They sat on Priyanka’s bed on the nothing-like-Priyanka flowery blanket one of her aunts got her for a birthday. Priyanka’s mom dropped by to say hi and left a tray with two smoky cups of tea.

“I love your mom, she read my mind.” Lemon said, wrapping her hands around the warm porcelain.

“She’s being nice only because you’re around.” Priyanka took a sip of her tea. “I wonder if it’s a good time to tell her that I broke one of her flowerpots when I was practicing with the skateboard.”

“You’re the worst.” Lemon giggled.

“Certified. Three years in a row.”

The blonde shook her head. “Does she still make that incredible curry with potatoes?”

“Yeah, once in a while.”

“Oh my God… I tell you I’ve dreamt about it. You know I love Christina to dead but she can’t cook at all.”

Lemon, at some point after the divorce, had stopped addressing her mother as “mom” and now she called her by her first name.

“Do you remember she always made dinner with dry spaghetti and can sauce?”

“You laugh all you want but that’s my comfort food till this day.” Priyanka defended her.

“She doesn’t even cook it anymore, now we buy it all pre-cooked or already cooked. She might even forget how to boil water. Anyway, we’ve tried a thousand restaurants but I swear to you, Pri, no one can cook like your mom.”

“Well, I’m glad you’ve missed one of us.”

Lemon threw a pillow at her face.

“Of course I’ve missed you, dumbass.”

They did each other’s nails, Priyanka ended up with a light blue shade Lemon had brought for her and it was allegedly the same color as Tiffany’s, and the blonde insisted she had to draw a white ribbon to make it look like the jewel’s teeny tiny boxes.

From there, Priyanka could see everything. Lemon frowning, concentrated on her task, the way she batted her lashes, her pretty eyes, the little freckles she had over her nose, the shape of her cupid bow turned into an unintentional pout… her lips.

Priyanka gulped and then Lemon caught her staring.

“What is it?” She looked for some hint in Priyanka’s face. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No… I’m just making sure you don’t fuck up the design.”

Lemon rolled her eyes. “Don’t be silly. I’m almost done.”

While Priyanka’s nails got dried, they talked about school, classes they liked and disliked, teachers that they loathed or loved, then about their plans after turning sixteen, Priyanka told her about the driving lessons and Lemon told her she wanted to dress up as Cher Horowitz –of course- for her birthday and by the time Priyanka started with Lemon’s nails, she was reviving her dance audition.

“I tell you, Pri, there was a moment I doubt I’d got in. It was a flash but I felt it in my stomach I thought I was going to puke and mess everything up.”

“Hey, but you didn’t. I’m sure you nailed it.”

The blonde sighed. “Still, New York is like… everything’s so fast and everyone’s competitive to the point where you can’t get distracted or someone else will go after what you have. It’s nice to be here for a change, this is the only place I can really relax. It sucks that I can only stay for a week and five of those seven days I have to visit my dad’s relatives out of town.” She met Priyanka’s eyes. “I wish I could get to spend more time with you, you know?”

Priyanka’s heart skipped a beat. At that moment what she suspected but didn’t dare to say at loud became a reality, all those corny songs from the 90’s suddenly made sense, all the movies Hollywood had sold labeled as «romance» acquired a new meaning and she finally understood what «to have butterflies in one’s stomach» really felt like.

She liked Lemon. She liked her best friend…. And she liked her a lot.

That was the reason she hadn’t been able to tell her about what happened earlier that year at the party because it wasn’t just that she wanted to kiss a girl instead of a guy, she wanted to kiss one particular girl and she was right in front of her at that very moment.

They never warned her about it, they never told her that she would live normally until the day she’d realize she could harbor such feeling inside, that one day she’d just… know.

She almost dropped the nail polish bottle over the blanket.

“Oh, careful.” Lemon grabbed it just in time. She looked at her friend with concern in her eyes. “Pri, are you okay? You look… pale.”

“What? Ah, yeah… it’s nothing. I’m recovering from a cold I caught, that’s it…” She shook her head and took a breath of air. “I’m sorry, you were saying…”

“About the dance academy,” Lemon resumed her story. “the girls think I can make it through the next three years, and then I can major in dancing, I might even get a scholarship if I do outstandingly well.”

There was something, a little detail there that wasn’t… right.

“I hope you can visit me soon, you gotta meet the girls; you’re going to love them. Rosé and Jan are also Geminis, I guess that’s why I get along with them so well. Luckily, Jan would be my roommate if she gets her scholarship as well and…”

“Roommate?” Priyanka asked.

“Yeah… for college? We’re thinking about moving in together because rents are expensive even for the smallest studio apartment advertised. It’s a nightmare.”

“But wait… what happened with the plan? Our plan?”

Lemon opened her mouth to reply and then shut it.

“You forgot about it…”

“No! You know I didn’t… but… my options are wider now, I have to think forward and… did you seriously think-?”

“Yes. I did.” Priyanka didn’t even let her finish speaking.

Her soul had been just crushed.

“Pri, that’s not what I mean. We made that promise when we were ten, things have… changed since then.”

“Maybe they have changed for you but I’m still stuck here, I’m still counting on our plans… our promises. I’m still counting on you. The only thing that has changed is you and your pompous New Yorker glamorous lifestyle.”

“Oh, so it was so easy for me, right? It’s not like I had to attend a school where I didn’t know anyone, being the new girl and sitting alone during lunchtime for months while going through my parents’ divorce… I hated it the first months, Priyanka, I really did and I swear that talking to you on the phone and dancing were the only things that kept me alive…” Her voice cracked. “It wasn’t until I met my friends that I felt like I could do it… that it wasn’t completely waste of time and that I wasn’t a totally useless person.”

“Lemon… you never said-”

There was a single sparkly tear falling down her cheek.

“Well, I hope you’re happy now. There you have it, my life isn’t a glamorous as you thought, is it?”

“It’s because that’s what you’ve told me! Maybe if you didn’t sugarcoat things I could’ve helped you…”

“And do what? And then what? You’d get tired of me with all those problems and we’d eventually drift apart. I’d become a burden for you.”

“What? Where did you get that from? Let me be your friend, that’s what friends do… they help each other during the rough times too, they tell each other things.”

“Oh, and you surely have told me everything that’s being going on here.”

Priyanka remained silent.

“I still talk with some people from school here and there… why didn’t you tell me about what happened at that party?”

“Lemon, that’s completely different…”

“Is it? Because from my perspective, it looks like we’re hiding things from each other now.”

“And breaking promises as well for what it seems.”

Lemon looked at her, she seemed hurt and it broke Priyanka’s heart to see her like that.

She wanted to reach her and hold her hand, hug her and tell her that everything was alright but at the same time, she was angry. She couldn’t have it both ways. It wasn’t fair.

Priyanka’s mother called them from downstairs; Lemon’s father was there to pick her up.

“I better go.” She grabbed her coat. “I’ll be back in five days if you want… whatever.”

She was gone before Priyanka could say something and frankly, she felt that if she opened her mouth it was going to get worse. It wasn’t until the girl left the house and she heard the car getting lost in the distance that she collapsed on her bed and started crying on the closest pillow she had.

Five days after, it was a New Year already but little had changed since they last met.

Lemon visited Priyanka’s house only to discover she wasn’t there.

“Could you please tell her I came to say goodbye?” She bit her inner cheek to contain a sob.

She had a flight to take back to New York.

Priyanka had taken the family’s car without permission and she had driven for a few hours, making sure there was no chance of their paths crossing. It was petty; she knew she was being childish avoiding her rather than talk things through and she was going to regret it and hate herself later, damn, she was going to get grounded for months but who cared? At that moment, the only thing that was on her mind was that she couldn’t see Lemon.

Not like that.

She did her wrong but she was partly right. Priyanka wasn’t being honest with her and she couldn’t tell her all the truth to restore their friendship.

She couldn’t tell her that she was gay and that she was in love with her because it would change it all.

It would destroy their friendship entirely.

Lemon would never reciprocate those stupid feelings of her.

Maybe if she put enough distance between them, those feelings would simply fade, go away, and right now, New York sounded distant enough.

If it was on her to do the hardest part for the sake of all the years they’ve been together, then she was going to do whatever it’d take.

Tears scorched her eyes.

At the age of fifteen, Priyanka loved her best friend Lemon but she also hated her.

[yeslahrt]

Commission Details & TOS

The prices indicated on my commission sheet are base prices for the examples shown on the graphic. Here is more information to help clear up any additional question you may have. Once I am commissioned, it will be assumed that you have read through the information below!

WHAT I WILL DRAW:

Animals! I can draw a variety of animals and would love to have more practice to expand on my portfolio.

Mythical animals! I will do my best to illustrate your fantasy animal.

Monsters! I will take a stab at drawing your weird creature and make it look awesome.

D&D characters! Anthros! If it has a skeleton, I will do my best to draw what you want.

Yes, I am open to drawing sensual illustrations per my taste.

WHAT I WILL NOT DRAW:

I am still working on gaining more experience with using perspective, therefore I will not draw mech. One day, though.

I do not have the experience to draw gore.

I do not have the experience to draw chibis.

No, I will not draw pron for you.

WHAT TO EXPECT...

INQUIRIES & ORDERS: All clients should tell me everything that I need for your quote. If the client is too vague, I may not be able to accurately portray the character in the same fashion as you would like. (See below for info regarding references). Once we are ready to move forward, you will receive an invoice at the PayPal email you provide me.

I will not start working on your commission until the invoice is paid. If the invoice is not paid within 72 hours, I will send a confirmation of cancellation of your commission and discard your project. You will then have to wait until I have slots available again.

Repeated offenders will be denied service and potentially banned from my services.

Responsibility of following copyright notices and laws will fall solely on the client. Please do your own research and due diligence when commissioning licensed characters that do not belong to you. *

WHAT I NEED FROM YOU:

PayPal Email: (Please note that I only take USDs.)

Commercial or Personal Use? (If commercial, please explain.)

Printed and Framed? (Yes, I can have your illustration printed, framed, and sent to you for additional costs.)

Type of Illustration: (Please tell me what to illustrate for you. IE: Icon, extra small (XSm) portrait, regular portrait, half body, full body, etc.)

Do you want flat color for your illustration? (+$10 for regular portraits, +$15 for half body, +$20 for full body illustrations)

Do you want full color and shading? (+$30 for regular portraits, +$40 for half body, +$50 for full body illustrations)

More characters? Additional characters per illustration START at half cost as a base idea, but prices will vary depending on your commission and how much added work it will be.

Quick Personality: (Used to get a sense of the character I will be illustrating.)

Extra additions? (Do you want them smiling? Crying? Serious? What do you want them doing, if applicable?)

Do you have references? (If yes, I will ask you to email them to my business account. Do not send them to me via Tumblr.)

REFERENCE GUIDELINES

Please send me pictures of your character(s) for reference! Things to consider: potential hairstyles, outfits, color palettes, preferred skin tone, other illustrations of your character that you commissioned from other artists, etc. Anything to better help me portray your character correctly is good.

I also need a few words about their personality for setting a mood for your character. This should be no more than three sentences max.

If you have a pose in mind, please reference the pose. Otherwise I will take artistic freedom with the rough sketch.

WARNING: Do not send me a link to your toyhouse or website where I have to get the references myself. Otherwise you risk your inquiry being rejected.

Yes, I am okay with clients sharing a google folder of references specific to your commission with me.

WiPs & WORK PROCESS

You, the client, will receive periodic WiPs of the initial rough sketch that will lay down the foundation of your commission. This is the time for you to tell me if there are any major concerns or adjustments that should be made to avoid incurring additional work fees.

You will eventually be asked to confirm the rough sketch before I begin working on finalizing the line work and illustration. Once confirmed, minor details can be requested to be altered and changed, but the main part of the illustration will not be altered without incurring additional fees.

Once the line work has been finalized, I will begin working on adding flat colors. I strongly recommend you to send me color palettes if you are very particular, otherwise I will take artistic freedom with the illustration. You will again be sent a WiP to make any color corrections. If any of the flat colors are off, this is the time to tell me before I finish your commission with the final shading.

POST PERIOD OF REVISION: I will make minor alterations within reason after the first 72 hours of completion. Any changes that require me to go back and rework the line art, which will lead to me fixing colors/shading, (ex: a different outfit) you will incur an additional 50% - 75% of the original commission cost.

PLEASE BE ADVISED: If you are having me design your character for the first time and your thought process is exceptionally particular concerning your character, you may incur an additional 30% conceptual design fee for the additional time I will spend with you to make the actualization of your character the best it can be.

DELIVERY OF COMMISSION: I will send you an email with a link to your finished commission (usually via Google drive). Unless you have specifically requested for a printed and framed bundle, there will be no physical product or merchandise exchange.

WHAT ABOUT DEADLINES?

The client is more than welcome to suggest a date that they may need the commission to be completed by. Depending on the type of turnaround you are requesting, you will be charged a rush fee of 35 - 50% of the original cost of the commission.

Otherwise the commission will be done in the order received and you may be given a rough estimate of when the work should be started. The completion of the project will take between 1 week and 2 months, give or take, once you have been notified that the work has started.

ART SCHEDULE & SOCIAL MEDIA

Please be aware that I hold a job outside of social media. I sadly do not have a set schedule for my job. I find my creative drive spontaneous throughout the day, therefore I do not have a predictable drawing schedule. If you wish to watch me draw, then you can find the link in my bio to follow me.

Sadly, because of Tumblr's algorithms of hiding/shadow banning posts, I cannot add a link to it here for your convenience. All I can say is if you have the ITCH to watch me draw, you know where to find me, if ya' catch my drift? 'Eh? 'Eh?

ADDITIONAL FEES

If you, the client, are requesting thorough concept art of your character, which include reference sheets alongside of an illustration, I will ask for an additional fee for the service I will provide when spending extra time making sure that your new character is just right and providing a character reference sheet.

As a rule, I always add my watermark to a small portion of every commission that will not hinder your view of the work. If you wish to have a file without my watermark, please expect an additional fee added to your commission price. Personal use only.

If you wish for a high-quality illustration for printing, please expect an additional 50% minimum fee added to your commission. Personal use only.

The print-and-frame bundle will incur additional costs and time. Please contact me for more details.

CANCELLATIONS AND REFUNDS

Every client has the right to cancel their commission any time before I START work on their commission. Other refunds may be issued based on client relation, otherwise all payments are non-refundable once I have started work on your commission.

I also reserve the right to cancel your commission for any reason, for which you will see a refund if you have paid.

HOWEVER: If I terminate your commission due to the harassment of myself or my followers on social media, racially charged behavior or hate speech, threats of violence, obsessive or otherwise disturbing behavior... YOU WILL NOT GET A REFUND REGARDLESS OF THE STATUS OF YOUR COMMISSION.

I reserve the right to refuse your inquiry and/or commission for any reason I feel necessary. If I refuse your commission inquiry, please do not inquire about said commission again in the future.

— TERMS OF SERVICE —

MY RIGHTS — My right as an artist grants ownership of the copyright of my artwork. I do not however claim ownership of a client’s character or ownership of characters from television shows, movies, games, books, etc. In addition, I control the display and exhibition of my work, and the distribution of the work. Clients and/or followers cannot:

Re-post my work without my written consent.

Use my work for their Wattpad novel colors.

Upload my work on other social media platforms without my written consent.

Claim my work as their own, even if it's a commissioned piece.

Use my work with the intention to redistribute, promote themselves, generate revenue off of my work, or take away from my bottom line. I am a business owner and my artwork is my brand.

PERSONAL USE TERMS — As default, all commissions will be assumed that they are for the client’s personal use and enjoyment. Any intention to use my work in any way that may promote you, generate revenue, or that will redistribute my work will require a commercial user license.

COMMERCIAL USE TERMS — If you would like to commission artwork from me in a way that will promote you, generate revenue, or that will redistribute my work, (such as, and not limited to: promotional material, merchandise, raffles, giveaways, indie games) will require you to sign an official agreement. Commercial based commissions have different fees. Once signed, my illustrations will not include any watermarks and will come to you with a high-quality resolution. This will not allow you to change, edit, or repurpose my illustrations and I will ask you to credit me for my work in some form. You are required to clearly state if your commission will be used commercially.

Extended License — This license is an agreement that will grant the client full ownership of your commissioned artwork. You will receive my work with no watermarks, at a high-quality resolution, and you will be able to edit, change, repurpose, redistribute the product at your leisure with no credit to me as the artist is so desired.

Licenses are not eligible for discounts. Non-negotiable.

Again, responsibility of following copyright notices and laws will fall solely on the client. Please do your own research and due diligence when commissioning licensed characters that do not belong to you.

— DISTRIBUTION OF INFORMATION —

I acknowledge that I sometimes collect sensitive information from my clients. You have a right to privacy. I do not collect, sell, or otherwise give out your personal information. Your inquiries and orders are confidential unless I feel a reasonable threat is being made and/or must report such information to the authorities.

If the client requests that I do not display their commission in my online portfolio, I will respect that request to the best of my abilities. However please understand that I reserve the right to print and display my artwork for my physical portfolio and that your request will not extend to my physical gallery unless other arrangements have been made.

[quickspinner]

Killer Combo - Ch 3 Home-field Advantage

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Epilogue | Bonus Tidbits | ART inspired by this story! | AO3 | Fiction Master Post

Marinette spent the morning of the day Luka was supposed to come over working in the bakery, helping her mother pack up purchases and prepare orders for pickup, which at least had the advantage of keeping her too busy to fret over the cute boy coming to spend the afternoon in her room and the many embarrassing things that had happened the last time something like this had happened. She’d been so absorbed in what she was doing that she didn’t realize he’d arrived until she turned around, her arms full of loaded bakery boxes, and nearly screeched and dropped them all at the sight of him. 

Luka was quick, putting a hand on the top box to keep it from sliding off and catching a corner of the lower one to stop its dip towards the ground. He steadied the stack until Marinette got a grip, on both her wits and the boxes. “Woah, sorry,” he grinned. “Didn’t mean to startle you.” 

“You didn’t,” she blurted, and then winced, face burning. “Well. Obviously you did, but it wasn’t your fault, my brain was on another planet or something. Give me just a minute to finish this order and I’ll be right with you.”

“Sure.” Luka stepped back with a good-humored smile, and Marinette turned to set the boxes on the counter for her mother, who was ringing up the order.   

“Thanks for the help, dear,” Sabine smiled. “I can handle the rest. Better get your friend upstairs before your father sees him. You know how he is.” Sabine gave Luka an apologetic smile. “He gets a little, uh...enthusiastic, when Marinette brings new friends over.”

Luka chuckled. “He can’t be much worse than my mom.”

“Yes, he can,” Marinette groaned. “Thanks, Maman.” 

“Have fun, dears,” Sabine said absently, turning back to the counter. 

“Thank you, Madame,” Luka said politely, following Marinette through the back. 

“Sorry about the stairs,” Marinette said as they began to climb. “There’s kind of a lot. My room’s all the way at the top.” 

“No problem,” Luka shrugged. He glanced at her and then away. “You look nice.” 

Marinette rolled her eyes to cover the fluttering in her stomach. “Don’t get excited, this is how I always dress at home.” It was true, too, she was only wearing a simple sundress that she had made in crisp pink and white fabric, with black piping and bows around the collar and straps. Her room, being both above the bakery and on the floor most exposed to the sun, tended to be warm. She’d contemplated dressing Ladybug style but decided keeping up her tough image in front of Luka wasn’t worth being uncomfortable, and...she didn’t want to. She’d put her hair up into a bun covered with a piece of patterned cloth that matched her dress and tied with a lace ribbon, since she was working in the bakery. She looked nothing like Ladybug right now and she knew it, and she wondered very much what he thought about it. 

“Really.” Luka paused, glancing at her again as Marinette opened the door to the living area, and then followed her through. “Not what I expected, but I guess there’s a lot I don’t know about you.”

“Honestly I tend to keep the gaming part of my life pretty separate from the rest,” Marinette admitted as she turned and motioned him to follow her through the kitchen and up even more stairs. “I don’t hide it or anything, but, a tournament’s a tournament and when it’s over I go back to real life.” 

“Makes sense,” Luka agreed, following her up the stairs. Marinette fought the urge to tug on the hem of her skirt, even though she knew it was long enough to keep him from seeing anything. She did glance back as she opened the trap door of her room and Luka was staring at the step beneath his feet. “Here we are,” she said, popping through. “I don’t want to hear a word about the pink.” 

Once they stepped onto the floor of her room, he didn’t say anything for a moment and she glanced over at him. 

“It’s very…” Luka trailed off, still looking around.

“What?” Marinette asked, a little more sharply than she meant to. 

“Nice, but again, not what I expected,” he shrugged, chuckling. His eyes fell on the stack of gaming magazines stacked neatly to one side of her desk. “Except that.” He grinned, going over to lift one from the stack and turn it towards her. It was open to one of his interviews with his picture in the corner. “You been checking up on me?”

“Of course,” Marinette said, turning away quickly to get out the controllers—and so he wouldn’t see her blush. “You and everyone else I play regularly. As Max would say, the more data the better.” 

“He’s pretty scientific about it, isn’t he?” Luka said, laying the magazine back down on the stack, his gaze caught by the poster hanging above Marinette’s desk. “What’s this?” he nodded toward it, looking back at her. 

“Goal poster,” Marinette said a little shortly, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. The poster had started out as the tournament advertisement. Marinette had added pictures of equipment and materials she intended to buy, a large printout of the logo she had designed for her business, and several handwritten cards with motivational quotes and encouraging words, all arranged around the UMS logo and the prize listings. “I do freelance fashion design and I’d like to get my business jumpstarted.” 

“I see,” Luka said, studying the poster. “Wow. So, wait, those hoodies you guys wear at the matches, did you make those?” He looked at Marinette, and she nodded. “Awesome. You guys always look great. Like a team, I mean, ready to take on the world.”

“That’s the point,” Marinette replied, feeling oddly vulnerable and defensive.

“That’s really smart,” Luka smiled. “I kind of lucked in to being niche-famous but you guys are prepared. That’ll really draw some attention if you make it to the finals.”

“ If ,” Marinette sniffed. “I hate that word.”

Luka chuckled. “Well then we better get started, I’d hate to hold you back.” 

Marinette grinned, tossing him a controller, which he caught with ease. “To answer your question,” she kicked a hot pink rolling desk chair over to him and turned the other around, falling into it, “Max is very scientific and very precise and he knows how to work his stats to get the maximum benefit. Buuut he’s not super flexible and sometimes gets a little overwhelmed when we need to think fast.” 

“That’s why you make a great team, huh?” Luka said, sitting in the chair and wheeling himself over next to her. “You think on your feet and outside of the box. You do things people normally wouldn’t think of and when you’re in a tight spot, that’s when you get really crazy.” He chuckled. “And somehow you make it work.”

“Usually,” Marinette grumbled, making a face, and Luka coughed, covering a laugh, she was sure. She wheeled up to the computer, silently horrified by how much she was blushing as she dialed up the video call with Max. All Luka did was compliment her game play! He did that all the time! Just not usually so...analytically. In fact usually he complimented her when she landed a hit on him. Of course it made sense he’d observe her gameplay and take notes, she did the same, and it was nothing to get excited over.

She really hoped Max couldn’t tell through the webcam. He looked terrible, but he’d insisted that she call him, anxious, she thought, over whether Luka could really pull his weight in a team competition. 

“Hey, Max,” Marinette smiled sympathetically. “We’re all set up on our end, are you good?” 

“Not even remotely,” Max muttered miserably. “But let’s begin. Viperion—Luka—I have some observations.”

“Okay, I’m listening,” Luka said, rolling a little closer. Marinette fought the urge to move away and tried to focus on Max’s laborious recitation, wincing a little at just how bad he sounded. He should be resting, she thought, but the only way to get him to rest was to listen, so they did. 

***

“This isn’t working.” Marinette sighed and put her controller down.

“I concur,” Max said reluctantly. “Your performance as a team has declined considerably since we began.” He sighed, which turned into a hacking cough that made Marinette wince. 

She put that aside for a moment and swiveled in her chair to face Luka, then grabbed the edge of his chair and turned it so that he was looking at her too. “Luka, you can’t keep doing this. Being a team player doesn’t mean blindly following orders. You need to take some initiative on your own.”

“Marinette is correct,” Max’s creaky voice came from the speaker. “Your willingness to take correction is appreciated but it is pointless if our advice handicaps you. You need to move more freely.”

Luka winced. “Sorry. I just don’t want to step on your toes, you guys clearly have a system and—”

“Just because we have a system doesn’t mean that—”

“Marinette,” Max interrupted. “Perhaps it would be best if you and Viperion work from here without my intervention. Vi—Luka, there is no need for you to feel bound to do things the way we do them. Our approach is optimized to our skills and relationship. You and Ladybug should formulate a unique partnership suited to you both rather than to me.” Both listeners winced as Max coughed again wetly. “And to be honest, I believe I could use a nap.”   

“Of course, Max,” Marinette said immediately. “Rest and get better. Don’t worry about us, we’ll figure it out.” 

“Feel better, man,” Luka added. “You take care of yourself right now.” 

“Thank you both. I have confidence you can work this out. I was hoping to be more useful to you, but...well. It appears the only advice I can give you both is—” he grinned weakly. “Adapt or die.” 

“That’s encouraging,” Marinette snorted, and then softened. “Go to sleep, Max. We’ll figure this out.” 

“Good luck.” 

There was silence for a beat after Max hung up. “I’ll go get us some snacks,” Marinette said, pushing back from the desk. “Maybe it’ll give us a little boost. Any allergies or preferences I should know about?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Luka sighed, falling against the back of the chair and staring at the controller in his hands before setting it down on the desk and raking both hands through his hair. “Whatever you’ve got works for me.” 

“Okay,” Marinette said, setting a hand on his shoulder as she passed. “Don’t get discouraged, Luka. We’ll work it out.”

“Yeah,” Luka attempted a grin, but it lacked the power of his usual smile. “I know.”

When Marinette came back with a platter laden with an assortment of sweet and savory pastries, Luka was holding one of the picture frames that lined the back of her desk.

“Hey!” Marinette pouted, glaring.

“Oh, sorry,” he said, turning the picture to face her. “I didn’t mean to be nosy. It’s just, that’s my sister, in the middle. With the dark hair. I didn’t realize you knew each other.” 

She looked at the picture and blinked. “Couffaine,” Marinette said, comprehension dawning. “I should have realized. I’d forgotten Juleka had a brother. I haven’t seen her since she changed schools back in middle school so I didn’t make the connection.” She looked him over, trying to think. “I could’ve sworn I’d met Juleka’s brother before,” she said thoughtfully, tapping a finger to her lips in thought. 

“I dye my hair a different color for tournament season,” Luka said, tugging one turquoise lock. “Usually I’m more ‘Lagoon Blue’” he grinned, pulling out his phone. He turned it toward her and showed her a picture of himself standing with Juleka, with a shaggy blue ombre instead of the turquoise on top. “I only just cut it this year, too, so it would’ve been longer back then.”

“Okay, yeah,” Marinette nodded. “You used to pick her up from school sometimes.” She giggled. “I remember now, you had way more of a baby face back then.”

“Yeah.” Luka grinned as he put away his phone. “It’s been a few years, I’ve grown up a bit. So has she. So have you,” he added, setting the framed picture back down. Marinette winced a little, trying not to look at the picture, at the skinny girl with the too-wide grin. “Juleka hated it when I picked her up after school,” Luka chuckled. “So I did it as often as I could.”

“How’s she doing?” Marinette asked, putting the plate on the desk between them before she sat down again. “I know it was rough for her for a while there, when she left.”

“She’s doing much better,” Luka smiled. “She still has difficult days, but it’s a process. She’s made huge strides from where she was back then.” 

“That’s good to hear,” Marinette smiled back tentatively. She handed him a napkin and waved him towards the pastries. 

They ate in thoughtful silence, Marinette trying to figure out a better approach, and Luka lost in his own thoughts. More than once she glanced at him and found his eyes on her, but each time he dropped his gaze to his food.

“What?” Marinette finally asked, blushing, not sure if she was annoyed or amused or something else entirely. 

Luka started and then shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to stare. I swear I’m not a creep. It’s just you look really different at the matches with the clothes and the makeup—” He gestured around his eyes. “I guess I’m having trouble reconciling that with this.” This time he waved a hand that encompassed all of her. “Like I said, I get why you do it, the image, it makes total sense, but I didn’t realize underneath it all you were so…” He grinned. “Sweet.” 

Marinette’s face flamed red and he choked on a laugh, trying valiantly to keep a straight face though his twitching lips gave him away. Lips that she was really trying not to look at any more than necessary.

She looked down, smoothing her dress over her knees absently. “I don’t think you’re a creep,” she said, in as neutral a tone as possible. “You’re...you’re a good guy, Luka. I can see that. I know I haven’t always been the nicest to you so...well, I’m sorry if you thought I didn’t like you. Sometimes my competitiveness gets the better of me and things come out harsher than I meant.” 

“Hey, I love that about you,” Luka said so easily that she was sure that he didn’t mean anything by it, though it still made her face flame up again. “Both the way you don’t take crap from anybody, and the fire that you have for the win. There’s nothing wrong with being competitive. You still have fun, and that’s why you’re so much fun to play. You don’t give an inch but you haven’t lost sight of why you love the game, either.” 

What a thing to be embarrassed about, but Marinette could no more help her blush than she could stop the sun from rising. “And now here I am playing with the league poster boy,” she teased, not looking at him. 

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Luka groaned. “It’s kind of embarrassing. I mean, I know I’m good, but I’m not—” he gestured at the stack of magazines. “I don’t even know what to think about it half the time. I mean, I get it, sort of, but…” He shook his head, and ran a self-conscious hand through his hair and down to his neck. “Why me?” 

Marinette gave him a flat look. “It’s because you’re hot, Luka. Don’t act like you don’t know. You’re hot and you’re ‘the cool guy,’” she made finger quotes. “And they think your image sells. You have a brand too, whether you did it on purpose or not.”  

To her mild surprise, he ducked his head a little at that, and the grin that spread across his face was goofy and embarrassed and not even remotely cool. Marinette giggled in spite of herself. “Don’t act like you didn’t know,” she teased him again.

“Yeah, well,” Luka glanced up at her. “There’s knowing it and there’s believing it and the two things are farther away than I’d like them to be sometimes. So maybe it helps to hear it out loud sometimes.” He winked at her and Marinette turned red as a cherry. 

Putting her nose in the air, she turned away from him and grabbed a pastry off the plate, shoving it in her mouth and ignoring Luka’s quiet laughter. God, had she really said that? Ugh, how embarrassing. And he was Juleka’s brother, too, that was a whole other level of weird. Poor Juleka, she’d had such a difficult time back then, suddenly targeted by the school bully for no better reason than Juleka had grown up a bit sooner than the rest of them, and her slender, elegant build and unique style were more competition than Chloe cared for. 

Not that Chloe would ever have admitted it, choosing instead to hammer away at all of the ways Juleka was different, and the naturally sensitive girl hadn’t stood a chance against Chloe’s unreasoning cruelty, and—

Marinette suddenly had a flash of insight and she blurted, “Is it because of Juleka? Is that why you’re so outspoken about the sportsmanship enforcement?”

Luka froze, and Marinette bit her lip, suddenly realizing that she was asking him a very personal question. She opened her mouth to take it back, but Luka was already speaking.

“I’d like to think I’d be that way anyway,” he said, his hands slowly curling into fists in his lap. “I’d like to think I’d do the right thing regardless.” He sighed gustily. “But we’ll never know, because all of that did happen, and let’s just say I have a special place in my hate for bullies who pick on people for being different. I still don’t like why I get so much publicity, but if they’re going to give it to me, I’m gonna use it, you know? Luka smiled ruefully. “Don’t thank me for it, though, I’m not a hero, just a guy trying to do the right thing.”

“You might be a little bit of a hero,” Marinette again spoke without thinking, and quickly covered her mouth, looking away, utterly mortified. She cleared her throat and then tried to cover. “I bet Juleka thinks so, anyway. Deep down. Where she’ll never ever admit it to you.”

Luka laughed. “Not if her life depended on it,” he chuckled. “Thanks, Marinette.”

“Don’t thank me, either,” Marinette sighed. “I should be apologizing, actually. I wasn’t very good at standing up even for myself back then, let alone anyone else. I should have done more for Juleka. Thinking back on it now I feel like such a coward.”

There was a moment of silence, and Marinette stared down at her hands.

“You guys were just kids,” Luka said finally, a gentleness in his voice that just made her feel more ashamed. “But If you owe anybody an apology, it’d be Juleka and not me. Okay? You and me, we’re good. Let’s just move on.” He put a hand out and squeezed her shoulder lightly. “So, how do we want to try this? Since what we were doing obviously wasn’t working that great.” 

Marinette blew out a frustrated sigh and slumped in her chair. “I just don’t understand,” she complained. “We did fine in the tournament. Why are we having problems now?” 

“I’m overthinking,” Luka admitted, tapping the controller on his knee lightly. “You guys are so—”

“Anal?” Marinette said dryly, and Luka gave her a sheepish grin. “It’s okay, you can say it.” 

“I was going to go with analytical, but that too. I’m just not used to it,” Luka admitted. “It’s too much information. I can’t keep it all straight in my head and I seize up.”

“That’s fair,” Marinette said thoughtfully, setting her chair in a spin as she considered. “Max is very logical, and you’re more intuitive. I’m somewhere in between. So...when we take away your flexibility, limit your thinking, it starts to be a problem for you. In the tournament, you just did your thing, and I worked around you, and we did okay. Not the level we needed, but if we start with that—” 

Luka reached out and caught the arms of her chair to stop her spin, and Marinette blinked up at him, his face suddenly much closer than she expected. 

“Marinette,” he quirked an amused eyebrow at her. “You’re making me dizzy.” 

“Right,” Marinette grinned, trying not to shrink back. “Sorry. Habit.”

“Obviously,” he chuckled, his breath fanning over her face. “So, you’re thinking we need, what...to work less like a team?”

“Kind of,” Marinette shrugged. “If we can work out a few combo moves that work at strategic moments, like last time, then maybe we don’t have to think so hard, and then the rest, learning how to move around each other and when to strike...that’s just practice.”

Luka nodded slowly. “Okay. So how do we do that?” 

Marinette shrugged. “We’ll stop trying to think every move through and just play, and hopefully let our strategy evolve naturally for a bit until we figure out the moves we can pull off together and that work the best.” 

Luka grinned right back at her with that saucy tilt to his smile that made her weak in the knees. “Now you’re speaking my language. Go on.” 

“Step one, we need to get you loosened back up again.” She grinned wickedly as an idea occurred to her and Luka’s eyebrows raised slightly.

“And how are you planning to do that?” he asked. 

Marinette’s grin widened, and she leaned forward slightly, a little pleased when he swallowed and leaned back just a hair. “How about a target a little closer to home?” Marinette asked innocently, and Luka’s eyebrows raised further. 

“What did you have in mind?”

Marinette tried not to giggle, but a few escaped her lips as she asked him, “Remember when you said my dad couldn’t be that bad? Are you willing to find out?”

Luka blinked, finally sitting all the way back from her. “Um, sure?”

Marinette got up, still giggling. “I’ll be right back.” 

It took pouting and begging and finally, the teeny tiniest hint that she might kind of like Luka a little bit, but Marinette managed to pull Tom away from the bakery. All of the work for today was long finished, she knew, and he’d just been prepping for tomorrow’s baking. She could help him tonight and make up the time. 

The look on Luka’s face when Tom swept exuberantly into the room was absolutely worth the time she’d be putting in later. She easily recognized the holy shit, he’s big shock on Luka’s face but it quickly gave way to slightly puzzled amusement as Tom carried on about how he was there to show you two how to win Dad style, and then you’d really take that tournament by storm, and have you seen Marinette play? When that drew an exasperated Papa! Haven’t you been listening, of course he has! Tom hastily corrected himself, booming on with of course you have, and she was amazing wasn’t she, and what was your name again son?

Tom cheerfully interrogated Luka as they got the game set up and Marinette handed her father her controller, unable to keep the grin off her face at her papa’s enthusiasm and Luka’s perplexed amusement. She grabbed a sketchbook off her desk and sat back to do a little loosening up of her own as she watched Tom and Luka go head to head. 

It quickly occurred to her that she’d never actually seen Luka play before. Up until now, they’d been in separate pods, and even when they played side by side she was focused on the game and not on Luka. 

Now, though, she had the leisure to sit back and observe, and she found her eyes on Luka instead of the screen more often than not. It was fascinating, the way competition lent a spark to his normally laid-back expression and threaded tension through his frame. She liked his relaxed nature but this energy suited him, too.

Or else she was just hopelessly smitten. What was it with her and incredibly attractive, emotionally unavailable men? 

Luka glanced at her at just that moment and gave her a grin and a wink before his eyes darted back to the screen, and Marinette sank down a little farther in her chair, hiding behind her sketchbook so neither of them would notice her red cheeks. 

You don’t know he’s emotionally unavailable, a voice that sounded a lot like Alya’s whispered in her head. Quit projecting your anxieties and woman up, girl!

Marinette shook herself and focused on her sketching, but that didn’t help much. The image taking shape on her paper was definitely Viperion-inspired. Circular, like her ladybug emblem, but this one was a snake coiled around and back in on itself, grinning around a mouthful of its own tail. Kind of a weird take on the ouroboros, maybe, but it seemed fitting for Luka’s gaming personality and style. Marinette wondered if he would like it.

Not that she was planning on showing him. She set the sketchbook aside face down on the desk as Tom and Luka both leapt out of their chairs, yelling over each other, until finally Luka threw his arms up with that deafening victory whoop Marinette remembered from the competition, and Tom mimed a dramatic death, falling back into his chair in a way that made Marinette wince for her furniture.

“That was awesome,” Luka laughed, reaching over to shake Tom’s hand the same way he always did Marinette’s. 

Tom accepted the handshake good naturedly and laughed, looking toward Marinette. “I can see why you’re obsessed with beating him. I almost had him!”

“Right?” Marinette exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “You think you’ve got him and then bam, something hits you that he set up ages ago and suddenly you’re the one in trouble!”

She paused, her eyes widening slightly as she looked at Luka. “He plays the long game,” she continued thoughtfully, and Luka was giving her that expectant look again, his eyebrows raised as he listened to her speak her thoughts aloud. “I’m good at thinking on the spot,” Marinette said, tapping her finger against her chin. “But you set things up and then just dig in and wait for them to pay off. It’s all about timing for you. It’s not working for us together because you’re trying to keep up with me and that’s not your style.” Luka’s grin was spreading slowly over his face as Marinette’s excitement grew. “That fits in with what we were saying before; why we did better when you did your own thing and I worked around you. So if we work with that...if you get them set up the way you do and create opportunities, weak moments I can take advantage of...Luka, we can work with this.” 

“Well, it sounds like I’m not needed anymore,” Tom said, putting a large hand on each of their shoulders. “I’ll get back to my bakery and let you two get scheming. But you, young man—” He shook his finger at Luka, but there was no malice in the gesture. “As soon as this tournament business is over, I want a rematch.” 

“I’d love that, sir,” Luka chuckled, and staggered as Tom pulled him into a quick half hug.

“Have fun, kids,” Tom told them cheerfully as he went back downstairs. 

Marinette giggled at the slightly dumbfounded look on Luka’s face. “Sorry about that. I know you said you’re a hands-on person, but if he’s too much, you can tell him. He won’t be offended.”

“Nah,” Luka chuckled, sitting back down. “He’s fine. My Dad hasn’t really been in the picture for years, so...it’s actually kind of nice.” He cleared his throat, picking up the controller that Tom had set down and offering it to Marinette. “So...ready to give this another try?” 

Marinette hopped into the chair, wiggling a little bit in excitement as she smiled and reached for the controller. The look in his eyes as she took the it from him made her freeze for a moment, but he just shook his head slightly and looked away, and she would really have liked to know what that smile meant.

Marinette turned hurriedly back to the desk to get them logged back in, hoping he couldn’t tell how fast her heart was suddenly beating.

At least while they played she could keep her mind focused. And they did have fun; so much so that Marinette was surprised when there was a knock on her trapdoor and Alya’s head popped up. 

 “Oh,” Alya stopped, blinking. “I didn’t realize you had company.” With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Marinette watched her check Luka out and turn her sharp eyes on Marinette, who was thankfully  not  blushing just at that moment, though it felt like she had been all afternoon. 

“No worries,” Luka said, smiling, looking up at the sunset light coming through the windows. “I didn’t realize it was getting so late. I should probably go.” He stood up and snagged his hoodie off the back of his chair. “No need to walk me out,” he said, waving Marinette back into her chair when she would have stood up. He slid the hoodie back on over the arms she’d been trying so hard not to look at all afternoon. “You ladies have a good day—or evening I guess, and Marinette, I’ll see you soon. My place next time?” 

“Sure,” Marinette mustered a smile. “Good session, Luka, thanks.” 

Alya watched him go, leaning down the trap door for reasons that Marinette was sure were not appropriate, and then straightened, turning wide eyes to Marinette. “Girl. Spill.” 

Marinette sighed. “He just came over to practice.” 

“Practice what?” Alya snickered, and Marinette rolled her eyes.

“I told you he’s filling in for Max in the tournament this weekend. He’s really good but we’ve only played against one another so he came over to practice and get a code set up so we’re prepared for the next tournament event.” Alya raised her eyebrows expectantly, and Marinette sighed. “And apparently I’m going over to his place in a few days to practice some more.” 

Alya squealed, and Marinette groaned. She turned her back on her best friend and picked up her sketchbook, staring thoughtfully at the serpentine design on the page and mentally thumbing through her stash of green fabrics for something suitable.

[liaincursives]

Pictures to keep in the pocket of our jacket

ONE/TWO/THREE/FOUR

TWO: JUST LIKE HOME

Jens could have screamed. He was nervous, no, probably even more than nervous. Him, the one who was never brittle about anything, was now sitting in a train to the Netherlands, resting his head on a window, tapping onto his knee with his sweaty fingers, listening to the same song on repeat for probably twenty minutes now, trying to calm himself down. The world was flying by, raindrops splashing against the window and racing down the glass, making the colours on the outside a whole blurry mess. 

He knew exactly why he was feeling like this, actually, he was blaming a dutch boy with light brown curls for making him go crazy right now. It had been three months since they talked that morning on the beach. Jens was still impressed by his past self, sitting down next to that guy he had been staring at for the whole week. The day before that morning, one of the two other guys Lucas had been at the seaside with had asked them to join them for a soccer match. He had heard the boy talking, making jokes with his friends and caught him staring back a few times, giving him hope. That hope had been the last thing helping to push Jens out of his comfort zone, walking up the dune that morning. 

He still couldn’t wrap his mind about Lucas. Jens knew that he liked boys, it was something he had always known, but he never really bothered telling someone about it. It was him, but it wasn’t some personality trait, it was just that he liked boys and he had promised him that if, someday, there would be a boy that mad his heart beat higher, he would accept that, be proud and show that he was comfortable about being with a boy. Lucas seemed to be that guy, with deep cerulean eyes that he could have stared in for an eternity, his curly hair Jens wanted to bury his hands in and the smile Jens felt addicted to since every time Lucas smiled, his heart rate went up, making him crazy for that boy. 

Now he was on his way to Utrecht, to meet the boy he was was obsessed with for the first time in three months. And he was nervous. Since that morning, they hadn’t been alone together anymore. They had gone surfing and clubbing with their friends. He had got to know Jayden and Kes and luckily, the boys were getting along with each other very well. The rest of the week had went by way to quick and him and Lucas couldn’t even say good bye to each other. Since then, they had been texting constantly, face timing a few times. Jens had learned many things about Lucas, talking to him just felt like he had been doing it his whole life. He had fallen for him, Jens knew that and he also knew that Lucas was feeling the same way, but thinking about seeing him again made him nervous, more than he wanted to be. Jens had been on dates before, this shouldn’t be something he was afraid of, he should handle the situation chilled, because that’s how things normally worked for him, chilled, not worrying about it. 

His mind was racing, afraid that he would screw up the last three months of talking to Lucas in a few hours, that Lucas would have found someone else or wan’t interested in seeing him anymore and had just asked him to come to Utrecht to make an end to all of this. It felt like his heart was stopping for a second or two when the train started slowing down. He was there. In Utrecht. All of the distance between them was gone, Lucas was probably less than two hundred meters away. The train stopped and Jens took a deep breath, not wanted to freak out about it. He wiped his hands dry on his pants and grabbed his backpack, waiting to get out of the train. His stomach was twisting, afraid that things wouldn’t go well and for a second, Jens didn’t want to get out of the train. 

He took a deep breath, trying to get rid of the feeling in his stomach and stepped on the platform. The train station was smaller than the one in Antwerp, but it was at least as busy, people rushing from one side to the other, every knowing where to go and what to do. Jens was looking for Lucas, trying to find the one familiar thing in all of this, escaping out of the way of rushed passengers. 

The train station cleared up faster than he would had expected and with in a few minutes, Jens was standing in the middle of then platform, feeling a bit lost. He saw that someone had texted him and hoping it was Lucas, he checked the notification, as he heard someone coughing right next to him. “If you are going to be on your phone the whole time, you won’t be able to see everything I wanted to show you. That would be a) a waste of time and b) extremely disappointing,” the familiar voice made him flinch. There he was. Next to him, looking right into his eyes. 

Jens needed a moment, staring at Lucas. His hair was a bit longer, the curls falling into his eyes. His eyes. Jens could have drowned in the deep sapphire colour of them, glaring at him forever. Lucas cleared his throat, letting Jens come back into the moment. “Are you going to stand there forever Belgium?” “What a creative nickname,” the space between them made him go wild. He had waited three months for this moment and now, they weren’t even one meter apart from each other. A quiet “Fuck I missed you,” left Jens’ mouth as Lucas took a step closer to him, wrapping him into a hug. “We literally talked everyday,” Jens melted away. Lucas was smaller than him, but still, this hug had something protective, letting the disquiet inside of Jens leave. “It’s not the same. I missed seeing you, being with you” he had wished for this for so long. For being with Lucas, not just only texting him how much he missed him, not just seeing him through the little screen of his phone, not just hearing his voice distorted by the speakers of his laptop. 

“I missed you too though,” Lucas detached himself from Jens and threw a gaze of expectation to him. “Come on, we have much to do today,” Jens wanted to make himself believe that he wasn’t disappointed that the welcome had just been a hug, but as he was following Lucas out of the station, he wished he had taken the first opportunity and just kissed the dutch boy when he first saw him. He was longing for that, finally making it more or less obvious that he wanted to be with Lucas, he wanted to be able to call him his boyfriend. He wanted that for three months now. “What are we doing?” Lucas’ eyes are shimmering as he looks at Jens. “First of all, we are going to take your stuff to my house and after that, you will have to be patient,” “Oh come on Luc, why don’t you just tell me?” “Wouldn’t be that much fun.”

The rain was pouring heavier than Jens would have expected it to, but somehow, they manage to get to Lucas place without getting dripping wet. Lucas unlocked the door and pulled Jens into the house, peeling himself out of the wet raincoat. “Do you want anything? A tea or something? Not that you get a cold from being here,” Jens shook his head and followed Lucas up the stairs. “The rain’s supposed to be gone by one, but we will have to wait until then to get out of here, I mean, if that’s okay for you.” “I am here to spend time with you, I do not really care what we do as long as we are together,” Lucas blushed, which made Jens smile, making his heart beat faster. 

Lucas leaned against a door, opening it and letting him step into his room. It wasn’t big, just enough space to not make it looking stuffed. Posters of bands Jens remembered Lucas mentioning in their conversations were hanging on one wall, a few unfinished drawings were laying on the desk and next to the window, the whole wall was plastered with pictures. Snapshots of Lucas and his friends, flowers, random places, art. Jens couldn’t help himself but stare at the photographies, they had something intimate, something that was making him feel like he was looking right into the soul of the smaller boy. 

“Those pictures, they are really awesome,” Jens pointed at them and Lucas was blushing once more. “You think so?” “I wouldn’t tell you if I wouldn’t mean it,” “It’s a thing I do,” Lucas sat down on his bed and tapped own the blanket, “Taking pictures in moments I don’t want let go of, it’s actually pretty stupid, but it makes me feel like I can go back to those moments if I take pictures of them, you know, when I’m unhappy or things don’t make sense to me anymore. It reminds me of why I am doing all of this, even is I feel like there’s no reason to do it,” Lucas was staring into emptiness while he said that and Jens knew exactly what the dutch boy meant. “That’s not stupid at all. I love them,” “You do?” Lucas seemed to be surprised, looking at him out of big eyes. “I feel like I do the same thing, but with music. Like I have songs for everything, for however I feel.”

Lucas nodded and a comforting silence started filling the room. They were just sitting there, staring at each other. The rain passed by and Lucas was now standing in front of the house, looking at Jens. “Where are we going?” “Trust me on this Belgium,” Lucas was smiling at him and Jens was thinking about something to say against it, but he couldn’t say anything at the puppy eyes Lucas was giving him. “Okay, surprise me.”

Lucas led him to a park on the other side of the city. Everyone seemed to be busy with themselves as Lucas pulled Jens to an empty skate ramp, smiling at him. “A park. What’s the exciting thing about it?” Lucas looked at him and Jens tried to read his facial expression. “Okay, I know that it’s weird, but hear me out,” Lucas’ lips were were moving and Jens couldn’t help himself and gaze at them, desperate to finally get a kiss from the smaller dutch boy, “It is one of  the places we are always hanging out and since you are a part of my life too, I thought I’d show you the places that mean something to me, I know it’s dumb but you mean something to me too and…” Jens couldn’t help himself anymore. 

“Okay, can I kiss you now?” Jens whispered, trying not to interrupt Lucas in his monologue. “What?” Lucas seemed to be thrown out of his thoughts, moving closer to him.”What did you say?” Jens could feel himself blush. “Nothing, forget about it,” “Are you sure? Because if I heard it right, my answer would definitely be yes,” 

Jens’ heart jumped and he decided to go all in, leaning forward and closing up. The space between him and the dutch boy and all in him just exploded. Lucas hands buried themselves in his hair and Jens pulled Lucas closer to him. He had waited for this for three months, since he had seen Lucas, and now it got real and Jens wanted to stay on the ramp forever, kissing and hugging Lucas, being with him made him feel fulfilled, like they were meant to be.