#gasped so loud my mom thought someone died

[pandorascripts]

Familiar By Thy Side pt 2

super excited to share part two with all of you!! sorry it’s been a bit since I updated, my school clubs are starting up and I’ve been figuring out all my stuff as I go.

relationships: (drumroll) Agathario/Reader!

lots of yall said it should be agathario/reader, so I’m delivering! thank you for all the feedback :)

warnings: uhhh, I don’t think there’s any, but who knows.

The next time you’re able to remember current events, you’re laid down on a dock, in nothing but your wet undergarments. With a loud gasp, you shoot up, chest rapidly rising and falling. Everything is overwhelming, the noise of the lake, the splashing and laughter, the bristle of trees’ leaves, the creaking of the dock — it’s too much, everything is too much. You can’t recognize anything, your whereabouts completely unknown as the cold sinks into your achy bones and shaky fingers. 

Finally, you see someone just barely familiar. Nicholas, laughing and splashing his Mother just twenty feet off to your side in the shallow waters. With a hard breath, you look around and try to focus on regaining your senses. Previously dirty skin is shining clean again, your hands brushing over it in confusion. Agatha had bathed you? The thought of being unconscious and vulnerable makes your spine shiver, gaze hardening at Agatha. The moment you fully look at her, really recognize her, you have such a hard time hating her. The smile plastered on her raw face, laughter so hard she’s forced to wheeze and turn her back from her boy, she looks human to you for the first time in, well, however long you’ve been with them. 

Nicky is the first to notice you, his smile still wide as he waves to you. Agatha snaps her head to your direction, icy blue eyes running along your posture for a good read. There’s a subconscious relent in Agatha when she realizes how scared you are right now. There’s so much familiarity in that showcase of fear for her, that she’s slightly taken aback by the memories of nights when she was younger and afraid. A low growl dies down into a clearing of her throat, Agatha turning away. 

“Nicholas, you’ll get frozen if we’re here any longer,” she states, but Nicky knows it’s a demand. 

He pouts but doesn’t argue with his mom, waddling out of the water that Agatha easily cruises through. Her outfit matches yours — nothing but undergarments, and it’s clear that they had been playing in the water for quite some time. A weird thought festers in your mind, happy that despite being apathetic to everything, Agatha knows that her son is but a boy and deserves to have fun. 

By the time Agatha and Nicholas are fully dressed in their slightly damp clothes — ones you haven’t seen before, so you realize they must’ve been stolen during your lights-out phase — the embarrassment settles in. You feel even more vulnerable now, the only one absolutely indecent enough for viewing. Agatha lets Nicholas head back to their makeshift camp just some odd feet out, her journey steering to open a medium-sized leather pouch, and take out some clothes. Silently, Agatha walks down the doc to toss them in your lap. 

“What did you do to me?” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth, more so questioning how she managed to subdue you so easily. 

“Bathed you. Nothing more nothing less.” 

The sharpness of her tone makes you realize she believes you to be questioning something else, a small flinch on your face. 

“Not that, that I understand well. The time I was awake, we were fighting, and then…” 

“Then I came to the smart conclusion you were too shambled to make such a journey and made it so you did not kill Nicky, nor I,” she answers, still on the defensive. 

You don’t argue back with her. Neither do you even try to dry off with anything, immediately trying to put on your clothes. 

“Wait.”

You stop at her words, convinced it was her magick rather than your obedience. “What?” 

Agatha walks off the dock, leaving you confused on whether or not you should continue. She turns her back to you again a couple seconds later, heading down the platform before tossing you a damp rag. 

“To dry. These clothes will be yours next few days, nothing wet against your skin will be comfortable enough for our journey. We leave tonight again.” 

You wet your lips, holding the rag before looking up at Agatha. Seeing her this close, it’s no wonder she was able to lure in many with a beguiling feeling of comfort. Agatha is motherly in many of her actions, even when she’s killing witches, surprisingly enough. Motherly or not completely monstrously, you’re not sure. 

“Thank you, Agatha,” you say softly, her name foreign on your tongue. 

“Make haste, the sun will set in a few hours time.” 

A simple nod from you has Agatha walking over to her son, your hands working to dry off your body with the rag. It’s slightly rugged, a little ripped and the edges are frayed. Although, you can’t be too picky, you suppose. Agatha almost gave you nothing. You’re not sure why she didn’t, why she let you dry off. It truly wouldn’t have been that uncomfortable for you, walking all that distance would’ve heated your body up and in turn the clothes would’ve probably helped cool you down. You turn around on the dock to run the rag over your chest, Agatha’s mean eyes running along your back. 

In her own mind, Agatha is beating herself up over giving you that rag. Why did she care if you were comfortable? If anything, Agatha only wants you to be uncomfortable around her, to be scared around her. It’s much easier that way, for you to be terrorized into obedience. She’s not sure, but maybe after being in your mind during the week in Salem she saw one too many correlations between you and Her. Agatha clenches her jaw, refusing to believe that after six years clean she’s genuinely letting herself feel the things she long ago buried about Rio. The name sends shivers down her spine, eyes running to find her boy. He’s nestled against a tree, fixing his hair into a braid. The facial expression she finds on him is way too similar to Rio’s mouth open in concentration, nose tilted up. Agatha comes to the realization that she can never get away from the sound of the woman that loves her, and it haunts her. Rio’s voice in the mornings, her small touch throughout the day, the sweet laugh she let out at Agatha’s off-colored jokes, everything that was and is Rio stays within Agatha. Her eyes fall down to her hands, balling them up tightly before she lets go of them with a sigh. 

You walk down the dock, fully dressed and mainly dry. Wet against your neck is your hair, but you simply scrunch it up and keep it behind your shoulders. Agatha is moving Nicky up, sitting behind him as she starts softly speaking to him and doing his hair for him. The braid wasn’t the best, so Agatha simply undoes it and starts over. He doesn’t seme to mind, lost in the conversation as he drags a stick through the dirt to spell out his name. The scene is a little too vulnerable and familial for you to want to engage in, even if you’re more calm than when you first woke. There’s some slight gratitude you feel for Agatha, considering that she didn’t completely undress you when bathing you. Despite the slight awkward dampness of the materials against your skin, it’s something to be thankful for. 

You’re too caught up in trying to figure out everything that happened — stubbornly refusing to ask Agatha — that you don’t notice her sit next to you. Of course, there’s still a couple feet of distance from the two of you, but you’re unsure why she wouldn’t sit by Nicholas. Until you realize he’s not here. 

“Where is the boy?” you ask, your body more unsettled without him. This makes no sense, and you know it, but you swear Agatha is almost human around him. Despite that she’s killed in front of the boy, openly explained that she kills witches to him, and still speaks down to you around him, it just feels safer when he’s around. 

“Off to harvest some berries past that brush,” she replies, and you’re almost surprised she actually does. 

You just stay quiet, a slight nod of your head as your eyes lock on the fire. 

“Salem was just fine, in case you were wondering,” mumbles Agatha, sniffling after as if to cover up everything she just said. 

“Have they still been killling witches?” 

There’s a small laugh from Agatha, her head shaking slightly. “Oh, please, we were much too clever to be killed during then. Those women were married to the worst of the worst, and killed simply so their husband could marry younger or justify his continuous infidelity.” 

“We?” you ask, head turning to stare at Agatha. You weren’t aware that she was living in Salem during those times, but then again, you’re not sure how old Agatha actually is. “Yes, we. Womanhood came to me after spending my youth in that town. I left soon after.” Agatha’s tone at the end, her licking her lips and turning her head too, tells you that there’s something there — a story, no doubt, but you don’t question. 

“Must have been quite fearful, I’d imagine.” 

“They couldn’t catch us, dear, only a few were ever caught.” 

The fire is crackling, your hands reaching out to warm up over the flames. Agatha watches, the way your hair falls off your shoulder and over, her eyes running along your clothes. You’re maybe in your early twenties, or older - it’s hard to tell with witches. Her body is way to relaxed with you so near, but she doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s because she’s sure you’re magic isn’t as strong or because she’s sure you’re not skilled at all. Either way, Agatha doesn’t like it. 

You don’t react to the word “dear” slipping from her mouth, certain its’ just another way to degrade you and poke fun. It doesn’t bother you. You don’t let it. 

“Man has never been smart, have they?’ you chuckle out, flashing her a small smile. 

Agatha responds with a shake of her head, pursing her lips. “Not much, no.” 

Silence absorbs the both of you for a couple minutes, up until Nicholas stumbles through the brush. He’s brushing off some burs with a distasteful look. 

“They’re so sharp,” he mumbles, very displeased with his clothes being covered in spikey balls. There’s a small smile from you, your hand lifting up to drop down. Just as the action is completed, all the burs fall from his clothes, his head snapping up to look at his mother. 

“Thank you, mama.” “Don’t look at me, boy, that had nothing to do with me,” she chuckles slightly. “Would’ve been quite entertaining watching you flounder about a bit longer.” 

Nicholas laughs slightly at his mom’s teasing, his eyes turning to you. “You then? Thank you.” 

Turning back to the fire, you remain quiet as Agatha and her son converse together, the sun starting to fall. You still aren’t clear how long had passed since you last remember anything, but you’re too nervous to talk. Wringing out your hands, glaring at the fire only to occasionally look at the duo before you, you can’t find a good enough time to interject. 

There’s a small huff from Agatha, her annoyed look turning to face you. “You’re loud.” 

“Excuse me?” you ask out, a little bewildered at her statement.

“Your mind that is, you’re insufferable. What is it you need?”

Closing your gaping mouth, you blink a bunch before relenting. “How long was I — how long did you have control over me?” 

Agatha wets her lips, turning back to the fire. “Maybe around eight days, including a portion of today.” 

Eight days. It had been eight whole days. You swallow thickly, looking down to stare at the dirt below. She had been in your mind, controlling you, full access to everything for eight whole days. You feel perturbed at this information, wetting your lips down as you struggle to come to terms with that. What had she done in there? What had she seen? What had she messed up? What had she learned? It feels like a violation to you, your head turned away from her. 

Apathetic to your discomfort, Agatha goes back to talking with Nicky about his day and what he found in the forest. 

The next few days are spent silently for you, simply walking alongside Agatha. You wish you could’ve been behind her, away from her, but she insisted you go next to her to negate any chance of betrayal from you. Far too tired to argue and far too worried she’d overwhelm your mind again, you just gave in. During this journey, you didn’t car to ask her where you all were going, you just walked. And walked. And walked. 

The group of you walked for days until reaching a newly-named settlement called Philadelphia, which had started booming since being labeled. Weirdly enough, Agatha was able to swindle an older man into letting the three of you crash, despite having no way of paying him back and being covered in grime. You watched the way she did it, hand on his bicep, straightening out his lapels, and showering him with praise. Alongside sickening you, you were intrigued. Agatha was a sight to behold, you were well aware of her beauty, but you and Nicholas being included on the deal? He was but a boy, and you weren’t ever the most attractive in your eyes, so how is it that he let all of you stay? 

Being rushed into his home by Agatha’s hand on your back made you forget your questions, slugging into the room he offered and laying down on a couch in the corner. There were two beds, one for Nicholas and one for Agatha, so you assumed you’d be cramped up here for however long the stay lasted. 

You were partially right. Agatha dumped her small amount of belongings onto the second bed, sorted them out into things that needed washing and things that were clean, doing the same with her sons too. Nicky sat on the first bed, shoes neatly tucked below as he took off his coat and fixed the collar of his shirt. 

Agatha grouped up all of the clothes, put them into a bag, and handed Nicky two coins and the pouch. “Round down to the market, Nicky. Find a woman willing to launder our clothes and pay her well for her troubles.” 

He gave his mom a look, a little shocked he was allowed to go out on his own, but he nodded his head and listened. Just as he slid off the bed, Agatha held his shoulder and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Be quick, be kind, and use any extra to get yourself something you like.” 

Nicholas smiled widely at his mom, nodding his head before sprinting out when he was dismissed. Agatha started to fold the cleaner clothes, nestling them in the dresser nicely. 

“How did you manage to convince that man?” you ask softly, sitting up on the couch. 

Agatha turns her head to look at you, fixing her hair by tucking it just under her ear. “I’m persuasive.” 

“There was more than that, d’you’re magick permit you to do so?” 

Her lips are pursed as you push further, a small sneer on her face. “It is nothing of your concern, be grateful you’ve a placed to rest that isn’t dirt, girl.” 

Agatha is cruel in her words, so you settle for questioning when she’s in a much better mood. Your questions are only making her feel more at odds with herself, hating the way those powers only work on men. After all, Agatha would much rather have her succubus powers sway women, at least there could be something more she could get out of it. Now she’s to deal with this man trying to hit on her, much more disturbing when she’s with her young boy, but Agatha won’t risk disturbing her magick at work. The last thing she needs is this man kicking them out, or far worse, claiming witch because he was rejected by her. 

Nicky comes back twenty minutes later, hands full with two trinkets, and a wide grin. His eyes are sparkling as he runs up to Agatha. 

“Mama, this nice lady just minutes out from here gave me these — free of charge, she said!” he laughs out, setting them on the bed which previously held clothes.

“Nicky, get them off the bed. Lord knows where they’ve been.” Agatha directs the boy with her hands, moving him out of the way as she does it herself. Whilst holding the items, her face pales and she glares. “Who gave you these, boy?” 

“A woman, Mama, a kind lady.” 

“A kind lady she is not, not if she tried her hardest. Nicky, you stay inside, no matter what.” 

You watch Agatha, seeing her truly unsettled for the first time. The items as you look at them, are slightly odd, but nothing to signify anything perilous. One is a small painting of a flower, some sort of dipladenia if you can remember correctly. The other is a small, festive skull, something from the Spaniards’ holiday Día de los Difuntos, you reckon. There’s no reason Agatha should be this uptight over a simple gift from a townswoman. 

Still, you keep quiet as you fon’t want to upset her any more. Nicholas is slightly distraught, watching his mother behave like this. She looks over at you. 

“Watch the boy and stay here.” 

With that, Agatha turns on her heel, coat lagging behind in her twirl, and slams the bedroom door behind herself. Nicky sits on the bed, his hands playing with the sheets as looks at the items Agatha threw down. The painting of the flower is in his hands, fingertips running over the medium used. There’s a hint of pity you feel for the boy, a small forwn on her your face as you move to sit next to him. The bed creaks. 

“D’you know what flower that is?” you quietly query. He shakes his head. “It’s a diplandenia. A Rio Diplandenia. They take almost no care from others and thrive, very low maintenance from it’s maintainers. Beautiful, no?” 

Nicky nods his head, looking up at you. His eyes are a little glossy. “A Rio?” 

“Yes, boy, a Rio.” 

For some reason, that brings a smile to his face. You’re not sure why, but you just smile back and watch him, your hand moving some of his hair behind his ear. “Whatever reason your mother has for acting like this, I’m sure it will be alright in the end. No need to fret over her antics.” 

Nicky nods his head. “I’m not worried, I know what’s to come.” “Oh, do you now? Forgive me for not taking you as divination warlock,” you laugh slightly, bumping his shoulder. 

Nicholas shakes his head, rolling his eyes at you. “No, no, not like that. I’ve just — I’ve got an ease within me. I know I’m okay, that I will be. I just worry for Mama.” 

“Your mother is quite the strong witch, boy, she will be fine as well as you will.” 

Nicholas looks like he’s on the brink of saying something, but his mother comes through the door, two bags full of what you assume are stolen travel items. 

“Nicholas, these bags, now.” 

Nikcy runs over to his mom, grabbing them and checking their fastenings. You kick his shoes out from under the bed, sliding them over to him. With your back turned to the group, you grab the painting of the flower and slip it under your clothes with the intent to give it to Nicky later. 

In just ten minutes you’re out the door, your eyes just barely catching sight of a gray hand behind a corner wall. You swallow loudly, but remain vocally silent. 

You’re not sure how many days pass when you’re thinking clearly again, too caught up in wondering why Agatha was so uptight to even care. The knowledge that Agatha has full access to your thoughts doesn’t hit you until after all your hard thinking. Agatha hasn’t said anything about it, so you assumed she either blocked you out or was too focused on moving to care. 

[dreamauri]

me: *waking up at 4:50am for souhour after accidentally passing out during race prep*

WTF HAPPENED?? WHERE'S MY BOY?? MAXIEE 😭 at least it was carlito who won, now excuse me while i go try and figure out WTF HAPPENED

[doodleferp]

So I got my mom into The Walking Dead and I thought I’d post about her journey so far.

Her favorite character is Judith hands down

She cried when Amy died

She screamed as much as Lori did when Judith was born

She was VERY interested in Daryl holding Judith

We got a scream when Patricia got mobbed, and an “oh, no…” when we learned what happened to Duane

Merle and Andrea were her least favorite characters until they both died — she hated the way Merle treated Daryl and she hated the way Andrea was always blinded by a dick. She was also terrified of Shane

She cried a LOT when Maggie was talking to Hershel while he was in his little leg coma because she lost her dad and it was hitting really hard

As of today we have

A shout when The Governor killed Martinez

A very loud gasp when The Governer killed Hershel

A full-body “OH, MY GOD!!!” when The Governor put down Meghan

Actually screaming at Rick to kill The Governor while they were fistfighting

A very loud “OH, NO” when she believed Judith was dead

She kept asking if Rick was dead while he was passed out in the house

We had a very interesting discussion about who was living in the house where Carl got the pudding. I thought it could’ve been some college kids/a college neighborhood and she thought it was a new family moving in. She even found some details that I missed!

A brief intermission so she could do work and the entire time she kept asking me about the prison bus that was supposed to have Glenn on it and she was REALLY upset that something might’ve happened to Judith

When we picked up at like 8 PM she was ELATED to discover that Judith was okay. Then she started yelling at Tyreese for leaving the kids alone to go help someone

She’s terrified that Lizzie is gonna hurt Judith because “that girl has issues”

Side note, when Daryl and Beth found that massacre and she saw the kid’s show she was like “ARE THOSE THE KIDS??? ARE THOSE ALL THE KIDS?!?!” Despite the walkers and corpses being grown adults

She just saw the bus she wanted to see so bad and she even didn’t realize that it was the same bus

This woman turned 53 yesterday and her TWD journey is just beginning. She is already distrustful of Terminus but I can’t wait to see how she reacts to them being cannibals

EDIT: Mom enjoyed the middle finger house fire 🖕

[piracytheorist]

Spy x Family Code: White thoughts!

Alright, time to write down my thoughts about the film! I liked it a lot, and for this anime only it was a HUGE satisfactory dose after not having had anything new since December 🥲 there were a few parts that I found meh, and I will mention them here too, but overall I got a very positive view of it!

Related to this, my mom was in the next room where I was sitting watching the film, and when I finished and passed by to get some water, she asked me what film I watched that made me laugh so much. So I think that speaks for itself ��

Anyway, on to the film!

Having seen the trailer where Twilight rips off the disguise of a woman with long, curly blonde hair, as soon as I saw her here I was like is that her? But then that guy appeared and I recognized his voice and, dare I say I was confused XD

Damn, isn't that past their rating? XD

And then the music started! STRIX theme with a new twist for the film!

I think by this point we've already shrugged away Twilight's ability to make disguises. It gets even crazier near the end, so it should be of no surprise that he just disguised himself as that woman. Lucky she happened to wear a choker, too, good cover for his Adam's apple.

The way they showed the woman wrapped in a blanket underneath the desk, though 😳 that's the kind of visual you'd use to show a character died. What am I supposed to infer from this, guys?!

Then we cut to Yor!

There's a review on letterboxd saying how easy the film is to watch and follow for someone who hasn't watched the original, and I'm happy to hear that because as someone who already knows these characters and their dynamics, it didn't feel like it dragged on too much on that.

Yor, ever being the sweetheart, will call a guy a traitorous scumbag yes but she will be kind as ever when she kills him 🥰

The way she dodged the bullets! Queen! And also a set up to later show her dodge all the ammunition thrown from the shooters and Type F!

This. Was. Amazing. I actually gasped out loud. The animators understood the assignment, 10/10.

Right after that, we see Loid reach his door, and for the first time we see him go to use keys. A few other times I remember anyone opening the door they just... opened it. You'd think an apartment where a spy and an assassin live would have better security! XD

I love how they kinda showed it like Yor was going to attack Loid, and then Loid just turned and went like "Oh hey beautiful wife, welcome home! :D" It must have looked funny for anyone who hasn't seen the anime/manga before XD

Yor wants to cook! Everybody hide!

That... is a horror of an omelet. Yor's cooking is always for the "congrats lil buddy that’s the worst anyone’s ever done it" meme. She does try, though, bless her heart.

Anya evades the horror. And Loid wants to make... peanut butter pizza???? Is that even a thing??? WITH MEAT ON TOP???

What does it say about this film that this isn't the weirdest thing to happen in it

TITLE CARD WITH THE THEME ENDING AND THE ORCHESTRA GOING WILD <3333

Damian, shut the fuck up

... I mean, with a mother like that... I'll give this to him XD

Did Anya call him an asshole? Serves him right, tbh XD

Knowing that the story can't veer a lot far from the anime/manga canon, I already knew Anya wouldn't earn a Stella in that competition. But it was a good set-up for the rest of the film to move on from.

Twilight read Henderson's lips through a window and through the latter's thick moustache, and lip reading is already hard to do accurately, if not nearly impossible. Boy's nuts. But I think it only prepared us for a fucking falcon to fly above him and throw him the message from WISE. Show-offs XD

A rare view of Berlint!

DAAAAMN the higher animation budget is really doing those characters such good favour 🥰

Bro actually read a book by flipping through it. Get outta town.

The idea of having another guy take over Operation Strix from Twilight feels a little shallow. It's already a very delicate and long-term operation, it feels that it wouldn't make sense to replace their best agent with just a dude just because said dude has connections.

Twilight meets with Nightfall outside, and Yor sees them across all those streets (I mean, she is an assassin with a deadly aim) and... she doesn't recognize Nightfall? Is this supposed to take place before Nightfall visits the Forger household?

I mean, at the current time in the anime, Yor is supposed to be over her fear of getting replaced, but I get why they retreated back a little, so they could explain the later scene of Loid taking her hand and reminding her of his vows.

Very conveniently, Yor's coworkers are chatting about cheating men, and Yor, being inexperienced with relationships, immediately believes everything, her suspicions even taking root with what she just saw.

Back home, Twilight thinks about how, since he's dismissed from Operation Strix, he'll have to move out, and the camera shows their happy family picture 🥺 he's not ready to admit his feelings to himself but the narrative is.

Making the dessert that's the favourite of the judge and in particular the one he grew up with feels kinda cheating, no? XD

Come on, Loid. A child filling her bag with toys does not deserve that murder glare 😂

That train looked a little too modern for the supposed 60s/70s aesthetic. I know Germany has some top trains (as does Japan) but like, still XD it's very different from the train we see on the very first episode when Twilight boards one for Berlint.

Lovely visuals, though!

I wonder if there's any system as to how Bond's powers work. He has the vision of Anya finding the suitcase and opening it... but that's creating a sort of paradox because without the vision coming to him and without Anya seeing it, it wouldn't have been made true. I mean, I get why it was put there, but still.

Again, the story needed a little backtracking in order for Yor's doubts to make sense. I'm not sure how much they contributed to the whole story, but at least there it was funny. The small awkward laugh she throws at the end before she exits their booth to go look for Anya was hilarious XD

Gremlin Anya is best Anya <3

LMAO at least she enjoyed the chocolate XD

The following part was intense! I found myself saying "Run Anya run!" even though I knew from trailers that they'd eventually catch her anyway.

So the microfilm hides intelligence about a research lab in Westalis. Hmm.

I think it was at this point I noticed that they had Anya react to people's thoughts way too little. I get that it can get repetitive but with her curiosity she would have tried to look for more information through the guys' thoughts.

"Chocolate thieves" is actually perfect to describe those two. They were conveniently - and hilariously - incompetent.

But it did get intense. It's always like that when a bad guy threatens to hurt, let alone kill, a child.

I love how Yor asked Anya to close her eyes while she was beating up the guys but then told her she can open them when they were down and fully expected her to believe her lie that they just passed out XD

Also, her snowman jgvllublftlulbj

Chekhov's military airplane! I didn't expect it would actually work by the end, though XD

I love the music in the restaurant. Poor Bond being left alone outside where it's snowing, though 🥲 at least they brought him food!

Yor notices that it's rare for Loid to wear turtlenecks, and that's actually true. Too bad, though, they fit him so nicely :)

I actually laughed out loud at the guys jumping on Yuri to stop him. They were prepared. They knew who they were dealing with XD

"Rubble and Bonds"... the chef is very wholesome but he literally named his restaurant after his trauma and like... dude. Therapy exists. And then he starts laying out his trauma thick while Twilight is sitting there like yup this doesn't affect me at all

I don't think he was prepared for that when he asked about the restaurant's name. I was kinda disappointed they showed the exact same footage of him as a kid from the first episode. I think they could have afforded making a few seconds of new footage of the same imagery. But maybe that's just my anime-only ass who has been waiting for a certain manga arc to be animated for nearly two years now 😶

Snidel appears! And he has the absolute nerve to just... steal the meremere plate from someone else's table. Perfect way to make us hate him.

And... I'm sorry. I have to say it. When Snidel challenges Loid to a game and the camera focuses on Loid... that zoom-in and fade to black was SO CRINGEY. Sorry XD

The music there was nice, though. I think I notice a tiny bit of James Bond music influence.

Fucking Snidel shifting the goalposts with the amounts of sugar. That's not being detailed, that's not explaining the rules of the game properly. They really wanted us to hate the guy.

Twilight looks really stricken by the fact that he lost. And we know it's not because of despair - since he immediately says they can have meremere the next day - and it's not because his pride was hurt... so you can't take it out of my mind that it was because he was disgusted by how a grown-ass man practically stole a piece of cake from a little child, and Twilight was unable to stop him.

But then XD Loid has the absolute gall to ask a chef for his recipe, and then reprimand Anya for calling him stingy. Like mah dude it was already a far-fetched request to have the guy give you the recipe XD

Twilight being totally not suspicious and bolting through the market to buy all the ingredients. Cause that's what normal people do.

The way Twilight tries to cheer Yor up and he only manages to make her feel worse never disappoints XD

Right, I forgot this film was released in December in Japan. It feels weird for it to have a winter-y, almost Christmas-y feeling while I have my A/C on XD

I like how Twilight actually cared enough to expose the guy at the shooting gallery, and advise him to run an honest business. You'd think this would be low on his priorities... but having a child will expand your sensitivities. It feels similar to how he encouraged Carroll Campbell into playing tennis more fairly and to depend on his own strengths.

And then he wonders why a little child has fun on a train ride XD

I... am not sure how I feel about Yor's outburst there. It feels directly inspired by the Disastrous Date, if not a copy of it, and I'm not sure it helps Yor's character develop in any way. I mean, again, I get that the film can't allow the characters to develop a lot since it can't veer from canon, but still, it felt a little forced just to give Yor more screentime and to have a very subtle twiyor tease.

Anya finding out about divorce through Becky's soap-opera filter, though XD

They feel too confident leaving Anya all alone (even if she's with Bond) in a strange town. I know they can keep an eye on her from the ferris wheel cabin, but still.

Now that's a character development moment you can have without veering from canon: having Yor feel guilty for allowing Anya to notice her dark mood, and then feeling happy that Anya pushed her and Loid to having a moment together to talk things out.

Also, beautiful visuals!

Twilight, best™ spy™ of Westalis™, being unable to read the room whenever his wife is involved.

MAH DUDE. THERE'S ONE THING TO DESCRIBE WHAT YOU'RE DOING AND THAT'S BEING TOO DIRECT

That's a phrase you don't wanna hear from your little kid, especially when you're fake married XD

Handler: Go and help Twilight. Nightfall: Yes ma'am! Handler: Not you. Nightfall: SENPAI WILL NOTICE ME SENPAI WILL NOTICE ME Handler: jfc

It was really sweet seeing Anya and Bond play, and then Yor joining in. That makes it more plausible that the film is set earlier on in the story, since it looks like Yor isn't used to playing with Anya.

No, really, what did that woman who was at Franky's kiosk want to ask him when she would come by with her friend??? 😳

One day the way Twilight abuses Franky's services will come bite him in the ass, I'm calling it now.

Yet another scene where character/relationship dynamic can happen without veering from canon: Loid comes back to the hotel and says he'll go out again, Anya says she wants to come too, and Loid tells her she has to stay in the hotel. Anya goes back to the bedroom dejected, but Yor reminds him it's a family trip and they're supposed to spend this time together, connecting that to her memories of Yuri being happy whenever he spent time with her.

And I think that speaks to another level of distance Twilight has kept from his emotions; he denies himself that he loves his family, but that also leads him to forget that his family won't like missing out on quality time with him.

I especially noticed his surprised reaction at Yor saying that being away from loved ones can make one feel lonely. I don't think Twilight has allowed himself to grasp just how lonely he's felt all these years, it was just the norm for him to have no-one. He's forgotten what it's like to have loved ones and to miss them when you don't get to spend enough time with them, and he's also forgotten that for most people, this is how everyday life is like. We love people, we like spending time with them, we miss them when we haven't seen them in a while. A master of disguises he may be, but this role forces him to face the thing he understands the least: human relationships.

And so, he realizes that Anya's motivation here wasn't petulance or restlessness. It was her need to have fun with him. He considered it easier to sneak around to find the liqueur if they weren't with him, but he failed to consider that casting them aside would actually impact them. Give yourself some credit, dude 🥺

Nightfall: I will surprise Twilight with my effectiveness!

Twilight when he sees her unexpectedly:

I did love however how he looked so sternly at her when they were outside. Like lady, first, bad timing, second, this is why Handler didn't want you to be the one to help Twilight XD

Once again, Bond's power works in a form of paradox. He saw the shop where the liqueur was, and Anya went there because she saw it. If she hadn't seen it, she wouldn't have gone, and Bond wouldn't have had the vision.

I love how the military guys get a rough sketch of Anya and go like "Nah no-one can actually look like this" XD

Anya must have swiped some dalcs as she ran off. That liqueur wasn't gonna be cheap!

Poor Bond!

Endo has surrounded Anya with two physically exceptional parents and a big strong dog to protect her, so it's hard to make a case of her getting kidnapped believable. Realistically, I think Bond would have fought harder to keep her safe, but to achieve the kidnapping the bad guys would have had to get more violent with him. That would make for a sadder scene and also take away from the humor of those guys' incompetence, so the most violence against an animal they could resort to was a conveniently falling beer can.

And thus, the "Anya Has to Poop" side plot starts! With the amount of fear she went through in those scenes, I'm surprised she didn't just... accidentally let go 😶

I just realized when Loid was checking the plane's radio they were also refuelling it. Again, kind of a surprise the whole system worked XD They were a little too chill about the fact that Anya was with the military, though? Maybe I got the wrong vibe off of their acting, lol.

The way that Yor decides at the last moment to join Loid and just... runs and jumps into a plane that's right on takeoff. Madwoman. I love her.

Meanwhile, at least Nightfall is funny XD

They really went on and made an entire sequence in a different animation style for a poop joke. Respect where it's due 👏

Someone: So how did you save world peace this time? Anya: I refused to take a shit.

The incompetent duo have a bedpan that's shaped like a duck and, funny thing... in Greek the word for "bedpan" can also be called, colloquially, with the same word that we use for "duck". So. There's that random connection I found funny XD

Twilight tries to ask for permission to land on the airship and they immediately turn their guns on him and damn, that must be terrifying.

And damn, again, that's a huge risk he took just to get Anya back. My man was prepared to do anything. And he walked out of the plane crashing into the airship without a single scratch like GET OUT OF HERE. I wanted my whump and I only got a single drip of blood near the end 😞 when will I have my whump.

And then Yor just... ran on the top of the airship, fully exposed to the freezing weather of not only outside but also a few hundred (thousand?) feet off the ground. My girl runs on hot steam. AND THEN SHE ALSO FUCKING TOOK HER COAT OFF.

Meanwhile, Anya finally finds a private moment to take a shit. And that marks the end of the wackiest plotline in this movie XD

Okay now, look. I can maybe imagine Twilight quickly making up a mask of Snidel's face from earlier in the day (though he wasn't shown to have any time to do that), and he somehow had it ready when the time came for their duel. But making a mask of that random military guy? Yeah, my suspension of disbelief is stronger for that than for freaking time travel XD

Yor also has her moment of going like "Excuse me, may I ask a question" and immediately getting guns aimed at her.

Damn. What the actual fuck is Type F even. At first I thought it was a full-on robot, but apparently it's a modified human? The fuck. Also. Just how many fucking bullets does he have???!

For real, though, Snidel isn't fucking around. He not only is fine with murdering a kid in cold blood, he also finds it entertaining to make her terrified as well. Like, even that guy from the Doggy Crisis arc said "Nothing personal, kid," when Keith commanded him to kill her.

And then Twilight overhears the incompetent dudes mention Anya... and mighty spy Twilight's emotions get the best of him and he beats up those guys for no other reason than getting back at them? More likely than you think.

Fuck, that scared me. That bullet was literally millimeters from piercing his brain. Cool visual, though, with his real hair popping from beneath the mask.

Anya worrying about her papa :(

Okay, I don't care about the logistics. This was fucking awesome.

AND THEN THIS???

10/10. They understood the assignment.

AND THEN THE OTHER THING???

QUEEN SHIT.

No, but really, their fight was going in circles because Type F has a shit ton of bullets and Yor has great stamina and ability to dodge bullets. She can't win with her strength, so she has to use her brain and her environment. AND SHE SLAYS 👏👏👏

My dude why are you still surprised 😭😭 what did you expect your kidnapped daughter to do once she saw you came to her rescue 😭 HUG YOUR DAUGHTER BACK I BEG 😭

Nah, I know he can't yet, this guy's got the emotional type of constipation. He'll get there.

So we'll never know what he thought about her sneaking out to get him the liqueur, and why that made her smile, eh? Okay 🥲

I love how Yor and Loid just both buy each other's lies. Oh yeah I just decided to jump on your plane while you were taking off, no biggie! Yeah this military ship was totally run by chocolate thieves! And also, I was flying part-time as a student :D

(I also love how high his voice went there. It's full-on "nice sweet Dr. Forger" voice XD)

And then :)

My crops are watered :)

With the action part over, I gotta say that they handled it all of it awesomely! I felt that the whole film was a little slow at first, but I didn't really mind. The climax was great, I got my whump, I got my fake family working together with all of them pretending that oh it was just chocolate thieves and not an actual threat of war breaking out.

My question is... didn't Anya just gulp the chocolate down?

... how did the microfilm get stuck in her teeth?

... you know what, never mind XD

Aw, Twilight got Handler a bottle of wine! And she actually looked thankful for it!

... was she the one who went in disguise to trap Depple into cheating on his wife??

*squealing*

Yor offering to help with the dessert and everyone going "Naaaaah you don't have to 😁"

Damian, shut the fuck up.

It is funny, however, how Anya can say one (1) thing and unintentionally leave him a blubbering mess. Girl is not even trying for that, lmao.

And then, another trip! Buddy who has the time and money--

Oh, wait. Yeah they're going on vacation on WISE budget lmao XD

It's kinda funny to see this with me having the Cruise arc as the "last" I saw of them, as an anime only, cause it was "trip to the ocean!" then "trip to the north!" and now it's "trip to the beach!"

Aw!

Meanwhile, after the credits...

Hang in there buddy. Your time will come to get Twilight back XD

Overall, definitely recommended, it did have its weak parts and its parts that you had to happily kick your logic out the window, but it was great fun, with awesome action, character depth, and even angsty parts that I adored. This will keep my anime-only ass satisfied for a little while, hopefully we also get news about Season 3 soon!

[sunnie-angel]

1000% projecting here but I can’t stop thinking about Jason with a troubled relationship to religion.

Jason doubted God when he watched his mom’s health decline. Jason was dragged to a church to attend Bruce’s cousin’s wedding and hated every second of the ceremony, not because of the suit, but because of the priest’s words. Jason prayed for the first time in years only seconds before his death. Jason’s first thought coming out of the Lazarus pit was Scripture, maybe thinking about the story of Lazarus and hoping against hope that Bruce would be right there to welcome him back to life. Jason barely contains his anger when someone tries to hand him a church pamphlet that talks about life after death and salvation. Because Jason knows what death is like and these people don’t.

Also, the internal struggle he would have between the dogma stuck in his brain and the blood on his hands. And maybe he never says it out loud, but his motivation is to cleanse Gotham of her sinners.

Anyway, I‘m really sorry if this just sounds like trauma dumping or is incoherent!!! This headcanon was proudly sponsored by my evangelical family. I don’t hate Christians/Christianity, I just like to rub salt into my own wounds.

oh i agree nonny! i think that with all of his life (and death) experiences, jason has such a complicated relationship with religion. i don’t know why, but i always head canon that Catherine was a catholic, and so for the first few years of his life, Jason was too. Every Sunday she’d take him to mass, and if there was the money for it Jason would get a sweet or a hot drink after as a reward for sitting through the service. It’s the image of his mother in her church dress, smiling down at him over a cup of coffee that haunts him the most when addiction changes her. He watches his father never come back no matter how many times his mother prays for it, her fingers worrying the beads of her rosary. The weekly visits to church slow, then stop. Meals don’t start with grace anymore, they hardly share meals at all towards the end. Jason steals Catherine’s rosary from where it’s abandoned at the back of her dresser, starts praying for his mother to get better, that he’ll do anything if God will help her. It’s the first thing he ever steals. Catherine dies, and so do Jason’s prayers.

On the streets, the rosary is the one thing of her’s that he’s able to cling to. He tried to go back once, the the church that he used to go to with his mom. Father O’Shaughnessy tells him that his loss of faith is a test, that it’s all part of God’s plan. Jason’s faith in religion and humanity continue to fracture. On newsstands and through apartment windows, he sees the rich and corrupt warm, well-fed, and sheltered to an excess that makes him sick. His whole neighbourhood forgotten, the risk of being out on the streets growing along with the crime rate.

The only time time Bruce makes Jason attend church, it’s for a wedding. The Wayne cousin isn’t catholic, but the ritual of it, the kneeling and the prayers and the songs, they make something itch uncomfortably in his head. It’s a recognition and a rejection. Bruce never makes him go back.

Jason discovers Sheila, and for a second he thinks that God must be laughing at him. There’s his mom, alive and well, only it’s the wrong mother. His last thought before death is Hail Mary full of grace. He comes to, gasping for air in a new body and a year later. The dead man came out and the grave clothes were removed, but the one who called him back was not his father.

Jason returns to Gotham, to Crime Alley, and visits his old haunts. He stands outside the church his mother used to take him to, and can’t force himself to go inside. There’s two women standing outside, handing out pamphlets for the next mass. One of them approaches him with words of God’s love on her tongue and it is all he can do not to rip it out of her. There is no eternal life except this one that won’t leave him. If there’s an afterlife then it’s one he can’t remember and if there’s life after death then he must be in hell because the monster that killed him is still breathing. Jason knows death and life and resurrection more intimately than anyone else will ever know. He does not need to be told.

Thou shalt not kill says his Heavenly and earthly fathers. Jason does, kills regularly to uphold the cause of the poor and oppressed. There’s always going to be blood on his hands, but it is done to rescue the weak and the needy. Jason may never be able to set foot in a place of worship again, but there’s some parts of scripture that still ring true in his bones. He’ll never be a good man but he can be a righteous one.

nonny may i suggest this excellent artwork of tortured catholic Jason?

[ashikioo]

Wrote this one almost a month ago, feel like its a good first post.

July 27th, 2024 (or maybe I should put 26 since it is 2am?)

After I lay down on my bed, crafted to be as comfortable as possible, with soft sheets and tons of pillows and stuffed animals, with a warm lamp and mounds of blankets. After getting comfortable, having already taken all my medicine for the night, filled up my dogs water and food bowls, turned off my tv and cuddled up to her. After the rush of the day and the high from the weed settles down. I dream about death. I do not think, I do not deserve that pleasure, I dream.

Most days, It is but a passing thought, a quick longing with no action, no animalistic craving. But others, after holding in tears when there was too long of silence, or after something hits a little too hard, I cannot help the feeling of hopelessness that dwells in me. Always creeping up when I am defenseless, exhausted from fighting it back, from being strong enough.

I would lay flat, stare at the sky or my ceiling, depending if it decides to strike early, and question. Why? Over and over and over. Why?

Eventually, I will find the strength to come up for air, but then after noticing the fogginess of my vision, the tingling in my body, the haziness in my mind, I will give up. I will be dragged back down, only this time, I am no longer struggling. It washes over me, the dread, the longing, the curiosity. And I am content as I lay there. In out, in, out, in…out. In, and out. And as the cadence of my breathing slows, so do my thoughts, and I will hold my breath, taking in the lightheadedness that fills my mind, and I will plan.

The antidepressants I got in 6th grade, The ones from 7th, The ones from Freshmen year, The anxiety and sleep medication, Pain medications, the rope in my closet, the blades in my room, the chemicals under the sink, the chemicals in the garage, my brothers gun in the attic, my dads bb guns, electricity with a bath, kitchen knives, drugs I could find in my dads room, my family's medications, the bridge down the road, the train tracks by my house, the liquor store down the street. Meticulously I will think, picking out the most effective, then the most accessible, followed by the most doable. I will plan out the how, the where, I will construct the words to my suicide note, who I would write to, what events I should mention if any, should I do multiple for different people? Or maybe multiple for different events or reasons if any. I will lay there, contemplating, not on if I should or shouldn't, but how I would do it.

Once the plan in my head is clear, where I have planned every last detail and excuse and holes in my logic, my mind will stop for a second. I will take a breath. A gasping, choking, crying breath. And right before the burn in my lungs stops, I think about my mom. I think about how she would find out, how her day was before that. Would someone wake her up to the news? Would she find out after I died or when they found me? Would I be alive when they found me? Would she deny it at first? Hope to god that her baby isn't dead, that she is simply having a nightmare, and she'll have a missed call from me when she awakens.

Would her sobs be loud at first? Or would that come later. At a poorly budgeted funeral with people who barely knew me? Would it be an open casket? Would I be cremated? Would my body be too horrific for anyone to see? Would they listen to any requests I make? How long would they mourn for me? How long would my mom? Could she ever move on? Would she ever want to? Would she be okay?? Deep down, in the part that is so embedded in me I could never deny it, I know. I know she would be devastated, out of everyone, she would lose it. She would never be able to go on without me, especially if it was by my own hands.

And then, after picturing her reaction, I would turn off my light, shut down my tears and wipe off my tear tracks and sweat, put on a tv show or documentary, and shut my eyes.

I would accept that I need to die, that this is something I should do, something I am destined to do but something I can never bring myself to do. I cannot do that to her, This I know, this I accept.

However destined it is, I am too selfish to go through with it. It has to be selfishness, because what else would it be? It cannot be kindness, something as wretched as me is not capable of such a pure emotion. Maybe it could be fear? But in the end, wouldn't that be selfish too?

I leave all these thoughts for another day. I hope not tomorrow, for maybe I would be too out of it to think about her before I act. She is not my only reason not to, but she is the only one that truly stops me. I never understood that before. My first, second, and last attempt, I had nothing stopping me. And even though I regret them after realizing, I only longed for more time for what fills my soul. Even after waking up alive the morning after, I did not regret it because of the people around me. And now, my thoughts are more coherent than when I attempted, which were more rushed and panicked.

My suicide would be thoughtout, planned. I would be content as I drifted away, once again meeting the blissfulness I experienced with my first attempt. The sweet feeling of death that I just missed, passing by briefly before I could reach out and welcome it.

Even so, even if I am longing for it more than ever before, I can't. I just can't. And it kills me.

So, I force myself to sleep, force my consciousness into the back of my mind.

Sometimes, it doesn't come back the morning after, and all day I am left picking up the pieces of my shattered mind. Slowly picking myself through into awareness. Other times, I will write, like tonight. Hoping that by the time I am done, when my thoughts are out there with evidence of their reality. My mind will ease. That some of the pit in my soul has lessened its toll on me. I know that it will come back tomorrow night, maybe not as strong, maybe my longing for death will just kiss my cheek shyly. A gentle reminder that no matter what changes, no matter how better I get or more aware or more put together, or older. It will still be there, gnawing at my throat until I give in. Until nothing of me is left. Until I am a corpse rotting in the ground, reuniting with the earth.

Maybe I will be reconstructed, will end up in infinity and sereness, or maybe I will forever be drifting in the cosmos, in the drift of the universe. Maybe my soul will be born again into a fawn, wobbly and pure and everything I wish to be.

Or maybe, nothing will happen. Maybe my soul would be embraced by a void. And I will be forgotten, if I was ever to even exist.

But for now. I will close my computer. Set it beside my bed, respond to the few people I talk to, whom I've been ignoring all day, and put on a silly show.

And let myself drift.

[yacinthemorning]

Mother Hen

Chapter 1 of 6

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Summary: 5 times Jimmy was almost the mom friend, if not for his other quirks.

Ships: Jimmy & Oli (Friendship)

Warnings: Temporary death

Oli had died.

Oli had gotten up.

Oli died. Again.

Oli. Got up.

Oli. Died. Again.

It never ended. He couldn’t even reach his friends long enough to join in their games before someone had a bow out and an arrow through his heart. A screech escaped him as he woke up once more in his – well, someone’s – bed, the image of Scott's obnoxious little smirk while someone else insisted there would be no more killing seared into his brain.

He was done. Fool him thrice and none shall survive. No more mister nice bard. It was time to pay it back. Go sicko mode. Push up their poppies – wait, was that a threat or innuendo? Oli shook his head clear, loading up the first crossbow he found. Who cares! Scott was going to die.

Joe – beautiful, princely, wonderful Joe – glided down from the heavens like an angel of enabling, landing in the snow with a soft thump and not-so-soft sigh. Elytra were already in his hands. Oli swore a beam of sun illuminated them like a beacon.

“Another mishap, Oli?” Joe asked as he handed over the emergency supplies.

“Oh, thank you Joe, my sweet prince.” Oli sang, running his fingers along the chainmail draped over his arm. Somehow it produced the right notes. “Oh, woe is me, Joe. Woe. Is. Me. For I have been betrayed by those I once called friend! Brrrother, even!”

Joe shook his head. “Hate it when that happens.”

“Indeed! Only you understand me, Joe.” Oli swooned against the man’s shoulder, squeezing a single tear out of his eye to wipe away with a gasp.

Their beautiful moment was interrupted by the wretched screech of their communicators. Joe held his up to check, Oli leaning over awkwardly to look at his rather than pull his own out.

SolidarityGaming: Oli, are you alright? 

SolidarityGaming: We put your stuff in a chest. Do you need me to bring it over?

SolidarityGaming: We’re heading to the gaming district if you want to rejoin.

Smajor1995: I think Oli blocked me lol

Smajor1995: Get gud.

Oli saw red.

He snapped his head to Joe, who jumped. “I need your help.”

Much-longer-than-he-hoped later, Oli was beelining for the gaming district, enchanted weaponry filling his inventory.

He never got there. So focused on his righteous revenge was he that, when he spotted his target getting ready to play Panda Resue, he forgot to pay attention and slammed face first into a wall.

He. Died. Again.

Before he could even look at the messages blaring across the screen of his communicator Oli punched the mute button on Scott’s profile, and logged out of Hermitcraft.

In the home void he immediately began to scream, and then scream again because the first was not nearly loud enough. He did so again and again until he could feel his rage ebb away into exhaustion. With a last pitiful whine, he slumped down to the fl- grou-… ceaseless-abyss-upon-which-he-could-nevertheless-stand. He thought for a moment that it perhaps flashed a little too violet and gold, but that was probably the headache he had now given himself.

No! T’was all Scott’s doing! He’s the one who shot me which led to my current predicament! He reassured himself.

His communicator buzzed. What was it now? Couldn’t he be left to wallow fabulously in his sorrows alone? I swear if it’s Scott on some alternate account-

SolidarityGaming: Oli, that got way out of hand, I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Do you need to talk? We can stop the game day now if you want.

For a brief moment all of Oli’s anger melted away into a smile. “Oh, silly sweet Jimbo.” He whispered to himself, before beginning to type up a message.

-

“Jimmy, come on!” Somebody shouted over Jimmy’s shoulder, but he paid them no mind. He nervously tapped his foot, staring down at his communicator. Maybe he should send another message? Should they call the game day off entirely?

Jimmy never expected Oli to completely log off. The frustration in his friend had been evident even before the last bout of violence at False’s boat race, he should have done more to stop it then and there. Why did I try to use the sheriff’s voice? No one listens to the sheriff! Especially not on Hermitcraft!

Well, no one really listened to Jimmy, either, but maybe the seriousness of the situation might have come across more clearly before it all got out of hand.

A hand patted him on the shoulder. Scott stood there with a quirked eyebrow, other hand on his hip. “You good? We’re deciding what to play next.”

“I think Oli’s actually upset.” He admitted quickly. It wasn’t until then that he realized how tensely he was holding his wings, but they were beginning to ache. “Like actually for real angry. I feel awful.”

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

“He logged out entirely, Scott!”

“I mean he also blocked me, but he’ll get over it. You know he loves being dramatic.”

But Jimmy wasn’t convinced. Sure, Oli enjoyed dramatics and silliness, as did Jimmy himself. But not everyone was as okay with being the butt of a joke as Jimmy was, and even he had begun to feel a bit frustrated at his last death. It was all supposed to be fun and games. If Oli was really upset…

At that moment Jimmy received a message the same moment everyone’s communicator informed them Oli had logged back on.

TheOrionSound: You guys have fun, I’m gonna be building back at the village.

The feathers along Jimmy’s spine puffed up. “He’s really upset.” He insisted, turning to Scott who had been joined by the rest by then. “Come on, let’s bring him his stuff and apologize.” 

Jimmy was too worried to give the groans of his friends any mind, launching up into the air immediately. The sound of rockets behind him were the only thing that told him they followed, too focused on trying to figure out where the village was in relation to the gaming district.

Eventually he managed to get there, some of his companions reaching it before him. One of them was Scott, sat up on a ledge while Oli pointedly ignored him in favour of the platform he was laying down. The elf only seemed amused by the cold shoulder, still not taking the situation seriously.

“Oli?” Jimmy called, landing next to his pouting friend. His wings hovered nervously over his shoulders, unsure how close Oli was comfortable with them being right then. “Are you okay?”

“He’s moping.” Scott drawled, leaning against the hill.

“Why hello, dear little Jimothy, how lovely to see you!” Oli said, chipper smile stretched painfully across his face. “Oh, hello there, Scott! My, you’re awfully quiet today aren’t you?”

Scott laughed. “Oh my gosh, he muted me?”

“Listen, Oli, I’m really sorry.” Jimmy fiddled with his vest nervously, glancing between his two friends. “Scott- Scott is too. I know you can’t hear him but he’s saying “I’m sorry Oli.””

Scott rolled his eyes, a strange little noise escaping him.

“He is?” Oli asked curiously.

“Yes, yes, he’s saying it. He’s saying… uh…” Jimmy turned to Scott, motioning with a grimace, hoping he would suck it up and say an apology. Or anything he could tell Oli, for that matter.

But Scott was evidently still in a silly mood. He giggled out, “Oh, you’re speaking to him for me? What if I said something awful?”

Oh no.

Jimmy stiffened, begging with his eyes for Scott to just apologize.

“Well, what did he say?” Oli huffed.

“He said, um…”

Scott cupped his mouth and shouted, “I hate the gays!”

Jimmy let out an indignant squawk, “I’m not saying that!” He shouted back.

Before anyone knew what was going on a flaming arrow slammed into Scott’s side, followed by another hitting the hill behind him. 

Chaos, confusion, and giggles broke out among the group. Joe continued to fire while Scott tried to explain through his fit of hysterics that it was okay. Everyone else was just trying not to get hit or fall over with laughter.

In the chaos Oli had taken cover under Jimmy’s wing. “What’s going on!?”

Jimmy crouched down, bringing the pair into a small, feathery cocoon to explain while the others sorted the mess out on their own. “Nothing, Scott was just trying to get me to say something very rude.” He tried to explain. 

Poor Joe’s embarrassment could be felt even through the few words that made it into the cocoon. Jimmy tried to ignore it. Later. For now, he placed a hand on Oli’s shoulder blade, giving it a comforting rub. “Anyways, though. Oli, we really are sorry. We didn’t mean for it to get so out of hand.”

“Jimmy thinks you’re actually angry.” Sausage’s voice and face poked through the feathers, giving the pair a kind smile.

“No, no, I’m fine now. All just a bit of fun.” Oli insisted, though Jimmy wasn’t sure if it was true or the sake of amicability. A smirk stretched across the bard’s face, and he pressed his index finger against Jimmy’s nose. “Although really, this all started cause you put a hit out on me.”

Jimmy stiffened, feathers flattening in shame. He hung his head. “Oh gosh, yeah. I did, didn’t I? I’m so sorry Oli.”

“It’s fine, Jimbo.”

“I feel awful, though. I’ll make it up to you I swear.”

Oli gave him a look, like he was thinking very very hard. It was all for theatrics, it seemed, as he let out a small ding, imitating a lightbulb. “Well then, you can make it up to me by meeting up here, tomorrow, before you go to the rat house. Okay?”

“You got it, buddy. I’ll be there.”

“But, uh, I really am gonna hang out here for the rest of the day. Really gotta finish my place, I’m way behind and kinda tired.”

Oh. Oli really hadn’t been angry. Jimmy felt a small heat rise to his cheeks. “Okay mate, whatever you want. If you need help with anything just ask.”

“Actually,” Oli began as they stood up, Jimmy unravelling his wings now that the chaos outside seemed to have settled. Cleo and Scott seemed to be busy assuring Joe while the rest had run off. “Not you, but do you think you could get me in touch with that rancher of yours? I heard he’s the guy to ask for what I need.”

“Tango?” Jimmy asked in surprise. “Uh, sure, I could.”

“Great! Thanks, Jimbo!” Oli snickered. He was up to something. Jimmy didn’t stick around to try and figure out what, though. He waved goodbye with one last apology and flew off with the remaining troublemakers.

Now completely alone, Oli clapped his hands together in excitement. “Alright, time to work my bard-y magic on this gift.” He cheered, finding himself newly invigorated to get their sheriff’s secret Santa just right. All he needed now was the piano and recordificator…

[bewitchingbaker]

Send ✚ for one of my muse’s prized possessions.

[ @brooklynislandgirl ]

Chris wears a pair of round, thin gold-framed glasses. While they fit, at times they can look a little oversized for his head. This is because they belonged to his mother. Once she died, Chris became pretty attached to the specs because they reminded him of good times with his mom. Specifically, painting and helping her with her lesson plans. Like his dad's jacket, he took them with him to Arizona and he began to wear them with them until they became a part of of his normal outfit.

"Those glasses make sense, Luna. Girly glasses for a girly lookin ass boy."

At this very moment, Christopher Noe Luna was 14 years, 5 months, 29 minutes and 8 seconds years old when his eyes met the other young man. Duncan Andrews. 14 years, 4 months, 26 minutes, and 2 seconds years old stared down at the young Luna. Chris had become the most recent target of Duncan's torment.

For a couple of reasons. 1, Chris was too quiet for his liking. 2, he was weak, thanks to the panic attacks that caused class to stop and have him escorted out. 3 and most important reason? The young Luna caught the eye of his crush, Jasmine Charles. Not helped byt he fact that the young Luna was already growing as a baker and could draw pretty well. Plus with his growing height, the young man felt like he needed to take him down a few pegs.

Now the only thing that stopped him from coming after Chris were the two older kids he was always clinging to. Andrew 'Andy' Riley and Jessica 'Jess' Luna. Especially Jess. Duncan once got caught pushing an unsuspecting Chris down with his crew and Jess gave him a black eye as a reward for his actions.

But since they transferred to the local high school, Chris was an easy target. At least that's what he thought.

"Hmm, " Chris mused. "Damn, I'll have to tell your mom to get me another pair."

Silence. Nothing like the class-quiet kid having a good comeback. You could hear a pin drop in that classroom. At least until a loud snicker echoed through the classroom.

Elizabeth Irene Riley, 15 years old, 3 months, 13 minutes and 40 seconds old, covered her face in an attempt to cover her growing laugh. A feeble endeavor because her tiny snicker soon grew into an uproarious laughter that made other kids join in.

How embarrassing! The entire class laughing at you because of the two quiet kids? No way was he going to let this slide. With a red face and scowl, he snatched the baker's glasses off of his face.

"Oh yeah, well let's see if these things are as delicate as you!" Duncan yelled before snapping the specs in two.

A collective gasp from the class.

No way he just did that?

It was no secret that it wasn't just Jess and Andy who were protective of the baker. Beth was always ready to fight for the baker's sake just like he was ready to fight for her. But before the young Rokea could even think about making a move, Duncan was already tackled to the ground.

As sweet and kind as Chris could be, people had a tendecy to underestimate what he could do. When you're raised by two people who grew up fighting, you were going to learn a few things. Specifically, making the first move and how to pin someone down for a while.

A fist met with Duncan's face, the young bully's nose getting well acquianted with the Chris's knuckles. Another followed, each stronger and faster than the other. Though youh ad to give Duncan points for getting at least a punch and scratch in. Even one of Duncan's friends tried to join in but thanks to Beth throwing a textbook at his head, Chris could continue his assault.

Every strike earned a 'ooh' and each punch earned a gasp.

If it weren't for their homeroom teacher breaking it up, Chris would have kept going.

How the so called mighty had fallen, that confident smirk was replaced with a teary eyed frown. Combine that with a bloody nose and bruised lip. Needless to say, he was looking a little sorry. Plus with his friend having a knot in his head from Beth's textbook, these two wouldn't be messing with duo anytime soon.

Of course, the two defending themselves were due for a visit to the principle's office.

Chris's eyes were locked on the two cracked lenses in his hands, a scowl resting on his face.

"Fuckin asshole, he's lucky Mrs. Johnson broke it up. I would have fucked him even more," Chris frowned, Spanish flowing out of his lips.

Beth nodded, following along. She had seen enough arguments between the Lunas to know what certain phrases meant.

"...Thanks for helping me out," Chris began looking at his friend."I'm sorry you saw me like that..."

Her hand hand reached out to hold his.

"It's no problem, really," Beth smiled. "Us quiet kids gotta stick togetha, y'know. Plus, someone had t' punch him out and I'm glad it was us."

She pauses once her eyes look at the broken glasses in his hands.

"But...why do ya wear those glasses? Ya got pretty good eyesight, Jess even said you don't need them."

Chris blinked for a moment, eyes looking at Beth then to his glasses. His hand rubbed the back of neck. He was surprised Jess never told Beth, usually she was always ready to spill all of Chris's business when it came to their friend. But he figured Jess knew this would be his story to tell.

"Well..." Chris began. "These were my mom's. She always wore them when she would paint, read, or make her lesson plans. They always looked cool and she always had the best view on life, you know."

He swallows before continuing.

"The authorities brought us her glasses and some other things from their car. I feel like when I wear them, I feel like she's still here with me."

Beth offered a sympathetic smile as she gave his hand a small squeeze, leaning on him for a moment.

"Well, I'm glad I was able to help preserve such a precious gift."

Chris smiled, leaning on his friend.

"I appreciate it."

[piltover-sharpshooter]

Caitlyn had no idea where she was. The last thing she remembered was...was falling to the ground in front of Jinx. Now she found herself in the middle of the river Pilt, somehow, but though she was laying on her back, bodied in pain and burdened yet the water didn't swallow her, the colors of the world seemed to have died down and that insistent noise of steps refused to allow her to rest. And so she stood on the water and tried looking for the source, noticing the people approaching, she had a sudden realization.

So that was it huh? She died...and this was hell.

It was strange seeing Grayson after such a long time, she held the sheriff in high regard once, and often thought what she would do in a situation whenever she had a tough time figuring it out. On the other hand, learning from Vi that she had associated with Vander came as a blow, not for the partnership itself, but because if she knew cooperation was the best way to keep the peace...why had she never taught her that? Still, her heart tightned at the dissaprovement in her expressions.

Of the second man she held no love, Marcus was not an evil man, not in her eyes. No, he was just a pathetic one. Someone who presented himself as kind only to act out of cowardice and spite. His dissaproval might even cause her some satisfaction, if the words weren't true enough to cut deep, and despite anger rising in her veins, she found her hands and legs unable to move as if restrained. And each time he touched her--

"Who...do you both think you are? To judge ME?" Unable to move, she resorted to talking back, though it seem to have little effect on the two of them. They ignored her and kept talking, as if she was...as if she was talking to ghosts. "Being the Sheriff? What have I accomplished as one in all my time? What have either of you?! Perpetuating a system that crushes the weak? Slaps on the wrists for politics and important people, while hurting the needy? I've done more in two years alone than either of you did in your entire hypocritical lives! Hell, I've saved more people by sleeping with Jinx by playing coy with Vander or letting Silco use my as a bloody used Rag--"

Once more he touched her, and the anger and pain rose once more, she felt herself struggling to punch him in the face...until she saw the fire behind them...a fire coming from the city, her city, and as it slowly became engulfed in flames, she heard and saw where the screams were coming from.

"Mom...?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

"MOM! MOM I'M COMING!" She tried moving once more, but nothing happened, this time Grayson and Marcus were holding her arms...them and hundreds of ghosts, wailing and coming from the River, keeping her there as the screams got louder and the fire got close. "MOM! PLEASE! I'M COMING! MOOOOOOOM!"

The fire engulfed her like an explosion, every inch of her body felt like it was on fire, and the wailing was so loud it was deafening, now joined by her own screams of pain as she still tried to have to have the ghosts free her. Slowly, even as her flesh burnt, she felt them giving way, she had to get to her mom and--

She woke up screaming like a roaring beast, the restraints of her legs and right arm breaking, and as she suddenly tossed and turned she fell with the table, spilling the nearby's trays tools on her. She was still burning, gasping greedily for air, she had to look for--

"J-jinx?..." Her eyes were blooshot with a tinge of purple on the iris and they had trouble sticking to one place to look, instead darting around to try and piece the situation. She felt somehow better, but also much MUCH worse than ever before, though she couldn't feel that lack of energy from bleeding, that blasted sense of burning was still present. Though she'd realize it might have been a dream, the pain and suffering she felt, were quite real.

"What...what happened?" Her heartbeat felt like a drum in her head, different from the constant sound of the footsteps she heard before. Whatever happened...at least she was out of hell.

[creativeashproductions]

Change of Scenery // Evan Buckley

IN WHICH: Captain Bobby Nash has kept a secret from his friends, his wife and his step children since 2015 when he came to LA. Bobby’s eldest and only surviving child comes to LA to reconcile and make amends all the while she catches the eye of a certain blue eyed firefighter.

Warnings: Swearing, death/familial loss, pregnancy, blood, angst, injuries/medical emergency, and fluff

Words: 8k

A/N: Back at it with another 9-1-1 fic. Hope you enjoy, and I may just have to do another crossover with 9-1-1 and Julie and the Phantoms.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

There are moments in our lives that define us, whether it can be known as a positive or negative, but the outcome is always the same. A six-letter word that strikes fear and excitement into the souls of humans is change. The fear can be for ourselves or as a result of a child, a sibling, or a parent branching out on their own. Unfortunately, you had gone through a harsh and cruel experience on a cold winter night in the city you grew up in.

A typical Thursday filled with classes at the college you attended in Minnesota on a scholarship, nothing out of the ordinary. The plan had been to drive to your parents’ apartment to catch up with them for the weekend. Saturday morning was already reserved for a girls day with your little sister Brook and your mom. In the afternoon, you’d promised to take your brother Bobby to the ball diamond.

Your bag was packed, the plan to drive straight from class to St. Paul the following day to arrive in the daylight. Your dad struggled with worry when it came to you driving in the dark and especially in winter with icy roads.

“Y/N!” Dottie screeched from the living room of the four-bedroom dormitory. The pretty and curvy brunette had been the first friend you made in college.

Typically Dottie was on the quieter side, so when she screamed, you practically sprinted to the girl.

“Where’s the fire?” You demanded with a smirk at the reference to a topic that was a constant in your family. 

The fire drills your father conducted every four months for an exit plan in case of a fire and general information to save yourselves. He had also trained you to remember fire hazards and how to call dispatch with clear information if that time ever came. It never did and hopefully never would.

“The Lakeview Apartments in St. Paul.” Dottie’s dark brown eyes spoke only of pity and concern. The five foot ten roommate literally caught you as you tumbled into her arms with a loud grief-stricken scream.

You were forever indebted to the brunette for the plans she sacrificed to drive you back to St. Paul. There was absolutely no chance Dottie would allow you to both drive and be alone with no news. The media hadn’t released the names of the 148 deaths the fire relentlessly tore from the land of the living.

“I want to prepare you for what you’ll see. Your mother suffered severe third-degree burns over the majority of her body.” The kind nurse, also one of your friend’s parent, explained as she guided you to the Burn Center in the Regions Hospital, “I don’t want to lie and tell you she’ll be fine. You’re an adult Y/N. You deserve the truth and not be coddled.”

“Is she gonna survive?” You quietly asked, “Has she woken up since she was brought in?”

“The doctor placed her on a high dosage of morphine for the pain. Your father hasn’t left her side.” Lucinda informed you with sympathy written as over her face, The hazel eyes unable to adequately meet yours.

“I’ll check on her, then could you take me to the rooms my siblings are in?” You asked, completely unaware Brook and Bobby had been DOA at the hospital.

Your father hadn’t answered the text messages or the voicemails you had left on his phone—radio silent. You couldn’t be mad when he was with your mom, but a text would have been nice.

“This is where your mother is staying for the unforeseeable future. If you need anything, you can call me.” Lucinda softly replied before turning her heel to head back to the Burn Centre’s front desk.

It was horrific walking into a room with no idea if the occupant who had raised you would survive. The confident, gorgeous mother you had for the past nineteen years was unfamiliar to you, the extensive gauze covering nearly every inch of her body. You almost couldn’t even recognize the man sitting in the chair with his hands wrapped. 

“Dad? What happened?” You questioned the grieving man. The only person left in your family as you would soon come to know.

“Y/N?” Bobby gasped, pushing himself to his feet, staring at his only living child. The guilt ate at him just staring at you with those light brown eyes, “Oh, sweetheart.”

Your dad crossed the room in a few steps. The scent of smoke was still clinging to every part of him, but it was fine. Your dad was okay, minus the wounds on his hands. You’d always been closer with your father than your mother.

“Dad, what happened?” You quietly asked the ashamed firefighter that had to reconcile his feelings on the fire and his career—that struggle ending up pushing you away when he really just wanted you as close as possible.

“The building caught on fire after an ember from a heater lit a blanket on fire,” Bobby informed you with his eyes pinned on his wife. Bobby knew the chances of Marcy surviving were incredibly low, and he had to tell you that.

Bobby only knew the details passed on from a firefighter who pitied the man who’d lost most of his family. 

“Is Mom gonna be okay?” You questioned, and the said injured woman in the bed weakly responded.

“Baby?” Marcy quietly questioned from her absolutely still position on the hospital bed, “Uh, Bobby.”

You left your father’s side to be as close to your mom as possible, with the clear plastic separating you for her safety. Your heart shattered at the sheer exhaustion in her pretty blue eyes. 

“Hi, Mom.” You shakily spoke with one hand lightly pressed against the plastic divider. You didn’t even notice when your dad stepped up too.

“Marcy?” Bobby called out from right beside you, just as torn up, but Bobby carried extra weight on his shoulders, “We’re right here, Marcy. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

The muffled grunt of pain, your mom’s attempt to save you from grief, Marcy let out as she turned her head to look at you. You knew deep in your gut that this was the time place you would see your mom alive. And by the look in her eyes, she knew too.

“The...kids…?” Your mom’s breathing became more erratic as she questioned the man she viewed as her hero. The man she believed had saved her and their youngest children, “Where...are they?”

“The kids are fine.” The way your father said it and the tears led to the knowledge once kept from you.

“No.” You whispered, seeing the total grief written clear on his face. The pain meds and agony kept your mom from knowing the truth.

“They’re safe.”

“I knew you’d come and save us.” Your mom breathed as her eyes started hiding the pretty blue you’d now only see in pictures. In your dreams, until even those faded as father time cruelly pulled you along.

Then your worst nightmare happened. You watched as the woman you looked up to flatlined with the thought of her children safe. You’d always know she’d held on just long enough to find out the state of her children. You could only hope she’d forgive your father for lying to her as she died.

“Mom!” You screamed, fighting the arms of an orderly restraining you. You barely noticed the resistance to your frantic attempts.

One minute you were staring at a team unsuccessfully trying to revive your long-gone mother, then you were in a hotel room. The atmosphere tense and quiet between father and daughter, with the ghost of your dead family to keep you both company. You could hear Brook gagging every time you’d kissed your now ex. You could see Bobby toddling after you years ago.

At least you had your father—a father whose guilt festered until he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“It was my fault.” He murmured, staring at the barely eaten burger that tasted solely just cardboard. He couldn’t bear to look at your face, “I didn’t mean to leave it on.”

Your head snapped to stare at him in disbelief, “What do you mean you didn’t mean to leave it on?”

“I-I went to the roof to sleep after your mom kicked me out. I didn’t have my keys to the apartment I had below ours.” Bobby began spilling the lies he’d told to you about his addictions. Of the apartment, you’d had no clue was even in his possessions.

The pain of losing your family tore into you, “You took my mom away from me. I’ll never get to share my wedding day with her. Shopping for a dress and gossiping about boys. I’ll never be able to wipe Brook’s tears during her first heartbreak.”

Each word broke Bobby more and more.

“You stole my future. You’re selfish, ungrateful and utterly pathetic. You cost so many people so much, all because you sought out your next high.” You spat, glaring at someone you’d never expected to hurt you. You didn’t notice your hands grabbing your possessions nor opening the hotel room door, “You couldn’t even properly try to get clean.”

“Y/N-”

“Get your shit together before you kill anyone else. I never want to see you again.” You sobbed with regret already festering in your body, but pride held you back from apologizing.

Upon your return to your dorm with Dottie by your side, you immediately began the process to enter an exchange program. Within a month, your feet entered Sydney Airport. You didn’t return to America for several years.

You took a job as a casual lifeguard on Bondi Beach, met Lucas in a meet-cute situation at the grocery store. You graduated college and found a job as a paramedic as you began becoming a flight paramedic. In 2020 Lucas and you discovered you’d be bringing in a little baby into the world.

Learning about your little Cashew growing safe in your womb fanned the flame of desire to reconcile. Ultimately the pride kept pushing the urge to apologize for the cruel words you told your father further away. You naively believed you had all the time in the world.  

Remember the six-letter scary word? If losing your mom, siblings, and father was a devastating blow, losing Lucas was nearly tied. Your little Cashew lost their father before they even got to meet him. That was push enough to pack up your home and fly back to America with your father’s new address as soon as you could.

In the fallout of the apartment fire, your father relocated from Minnesota to Los Angeles. 

Los Angeles, 2020

As soon as you’d found the nicest but cheapest hotel to stay in until you found a place, you walked the streets of LA. The first order of business of approaching your father at his workplace as you had no personal address. Residing still in Minnesota, Deputy Chief Evans had only given you the address of Bobby’s work.

You could only hope Bobby wouldn’t turn you away. That he was willing to bridge the gap, you’d widened over the years. That he could forgive the silence to each email, he sent when you changed numbers.

“We should go out to dinner.” The female voice was what brought you back to the present time. The woman was beautiful with her buzzed head and clear skin.

Right by her side was a dark-haired male of Asian ethnicity with a bag thrown over his shoulder, “If you’re paying, you bet I’ll be there.”

The two continued to converse in their own world until the man had to literally dodge you when they finally noticed you.

“Does Chief Bobby Nash work here?” You inquired, having no desire to enter small talk when the baby was sitting on your bladder again. You nearly retched when the man stared down at your swollen midsection, shocked, “It’s not his baby.”

Hen caught the evident disgust on your face, “He’s in his office. I’ll guide you there…”

“Y/N.” You supplied the firefighter. Hen smiled in response, “And your name is…”

“Henrietta Wilson, but you can call me Hen. That was Howard Han. He goes by Chimney, and I’ve been sworn to secrecy on the name.” Hen chuckled in her steps to the closed door of the fire chief. Hen swiftly knocked on the door to give Bobby a heads up.

“Come in!” Bobby called from his pile of paperwork he had pushed and waited to work on. It had slipped as the date came closer. Your twenty-seventh birthday, the seventh one since he last saw you.

“Cap, a woman is asking for you,” Hen told her friend and boss. It’s a good thing you didn’t choose to surprise your father because Hen was shorted, and your bump made manoeuvring around tricky.

“What can I do…” Bobby trailed off when he saw the girl waiting to talk to him. The pen in his hand dropped to the table in shock.

Hen glanced between the two equally taken aback individuals, “Am I missing something here?”

“Hey, dad.” You whispered to the man who’d been dreaming of this moment since the minute you left. He’d searched for you at your previous college and nearly made a missing person report.

“Dad?” Hen couldn’t pick her jaw up from the floor if she even wanted to because this was juicy information. Sure, Bobby had caved into telling his team, his family that he’d lost his wife and two children in a fire.

He rarely talked about his life before the 118, but he’d never mentioned having a surviving daughter. Not in the handful of times he’d talked about the tragedy, nor did he have any objects or photos of you. 

“You’re really here?” Bobby lightly chuckled with a twinkle in his eye. Hen had only seen a handful of times. All of them had Athena in the scene, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” You beamed, stepping closer to the man you’d missed dearly, “I’m so sorry for the way I left. What I said was cruel and untrue. You aren’t selfish, and I can’t blame you for something you couldn’t control.”

Bobby grinned. He’d stepped around his desk only to halt when he took in an undeniable development—the baby bump you carried.

“Is-”

“I’m pregnant. Six months along with a baby girl.” You laughed to the apparent disbelief in your father’s light brown eyes. His gaze continued to shift between the bump and your e/c eyes.

“Wow. Sorry, this is...wow.” 

“She’s one of the reasons I wanted to come back. To fix our relationship because I want her to know her grandpa. You’re the only grandparent Poppy will know.” Bobby was quick to tug you into his arms as soon as the first tear dropped down your cheek.

There was so much you wanted to tell your father, but that overwhelming grief rose higher. You’d left Australia where Lucas laid in a plot in a cemetery. You left the friends you’d found in the city. Left the lifeguard job you’d come to love.

“Where are you and your partner staying?”

“He...uh...Lucas passed away recently.”

The arms holding you tightened in response to your confession, “Oh sweetheart.”

“I didn’t know where else to go. I can’t stay in the home we bought. Not the place he died when I couldn’t save him.”

“I don’t know what happened, but it wasn’-”

“Don’t coddle me. I was...am a paramedic. A flight paramedic, to be specific, so I know that my hesitation could be the reason he died.”

Your career took the father by complete and utter surprise because you’d always planned on a different job. Before the fire that claimed so many lives, you’d never entertained a career in the emergency field.

“We have a lot to catch up on. First, you need to know that I’ll always love your mother no matter what, but you need to know. I met someone when I first moved here, and we were friends at first. She divorced her husband. We started dating...sweetheart, I remarried.”

A wave of emotions flared in your chest, from betrayal to sadness and ultimately happiness. Having lost your first love, you understood and knew if love came around for you, you wouldn’t ignore it. Lucas wouldn’t want that.

“I can’t wait to meet her.”

Re-entering into Bobby’s new life was a difficult adjustment for everyone included. Tension had risen between Athena and Bobby for a brief period. Athena hadn’t even been aware of your existence, but she could fault Bobby. Athena had even told her first husband about her late fiance Emmett when they were still together.

It was difficult for you with the new addition of two step-siblings in the same birth order as Brook and Bobby had been. The Grant siblings had welcomed you into the family without any reservations.

“Did you ever get to fly the chopper?” Harry asked as he scrubbed the dirty dish from the Sunday family dinner. 

It was the first dinner that had no awkward tension since you arrived back in the country. Athena had taken a bit to warm up, but it was nothing personal. She’d actually been the one to find you you’d been staying at a hotel. Mama Athena did not like her pregnant step-daughter living at a hotel. She’d actually stormed your room with Hen and Karen as back up to pack your room and leave for the Grant-Nash house.

“No. I had to help keep the patients alive. If I’m telling the truth...sometimes I didn’t even notice I was in the air.” You whispered to your stepbrother. He was just invested in your career as he had been when Bobby first entered their lives.

“That is so cool!” Harry enthused with soap suds splashing your thin knitted sweater. Harry’s mouth formed an ‘o’ when you flicked water onto his face in retaliation.

“Do you know Bondi Beach in Australia?” You inquired the youth with the chore of dishes completed.

“Yeah! There’s a tv show called Bondi Rescue! I watch the clips on YouTube!” Harry exclaimed, hot on your heels to the couch. Out of May and Harry, he followed you around with questions about your life in Australia.

“I was a casual lifeguard. I’m not featured on that show, but I would get called in when a lifeguard was needed. It paired well with my job as a flight paramedic.” You half-smiled, remembering the Bondi lifeguards who had welcomed you into the family. You became one of them when they started pranking you.

“Did you ever see a shark-”

“Harry, go brush your teeth. Leave Y/N alone.” Athena informed her youngest from the open patio doors. Your father, Athena and May had been outside as soon as the table had been cleared.

“But-”

“Harry,” Athena warned the youngest Grant. Harry didn’t attempt to argue with his stern mother; all he did was hug you quickly. You watched the young boy disappear into the hallway.

“He reminds you of your little brother?” Athena questioned. In your time of reminiscing, the older woman had settled in Harry’s previous position.

“A little.” You whispered, “Thank you for welcoming me into the family. For making my dad happy.”

“You know I may have some baby clothes put away if you’d like to use them?” Athena offered with that smile that made you feel at home. Athena was far different from your late mother, with her presence commanding respect and intelligence. Your mom was similar, but I suppose it could be described as a softer touch.

“Anyway, saving a penny is appreciated. I have a question for you also.” You hesitantly started with a bundle of nerves deep in your belly. Athena turned to give you her full attention.

“Well? Out with it.” Athena pushed, but she had a slight feeling of what you were about to ask her.

“My mom was one the strongest women I know. It hurts that my baby won’t get to experience her love and guidance, and you can say no. We’ve only known each other a short time, but would you consider...maybe being a grandma to my baby?”

Giddy was the feeling Athena developed along with the laughing smile that only came from happiness. The woman could only nod her head in response to your hesitant question. To Athena’s knowledge but not yours, Bobby was softly smiling, watching his formerly estranged daughter getting along with your stepmom.

“Oh!” You gasped as your baby kicked hard enough for her foot imprint to be seen through your knitted sweater. 

Bobby was by your side in concern the second he heard your startled sound, but Athena wasn’t that concerned. Athena remembered having the same reaction.

“Are you okay?” Bobby frantically questioned. He faltered when the woman shared a belly-deep laugh at the sheer fear written in the seasoned firefighter’s eyes.

“Poppy was kicking.” You chuckled as your father’s shoulders dropped in relief, “Here.”

Your nimble fingers clasped around your father’s wrist to bring his palm to the spot Poppy was kicking. A certain lightness flooded your entire body, being capable of sharing this experience with Bobby. Watching tears well up in the grandpa to be’s brown eyes.

“Whoa.” Bobby breathlessly spoke as Poppy kicked against his palm. The feeling building in his was exhilarating with the small amount of grief mixed in, “I remember when your mom was pregnant with you. We didn’t know if we were having a girl or boy, but she was adamant you would be a kickboxer. So active.”

Athena watched as the relationship between father and daughter started healing directly in front of her eyes. The Sergeant was about to give you two some privacy when you caught her hand in your free one.

“Here.” You informed the older woman shifting to place her hand where your father’s hand had previously been. Your e/c eyes sought the wonder-filled different shades of brown eyes the couple had.

“You should get some sleep,” Athena spoke, staring at her hand resting on your bump. Her dark chocolate brown rising to find your gaze, “You won’t be getting a lot once she arrives.”

Bobby and Athena watched as you turned the corner to the spare room Athena’s parents used when they visited. For the time being, you’ve moved into the room, and the Grant-Nash house hoped you would stay. May had always wanted a sister, and Harry loved all the stories you told about Australia.

“You know, at some point, you’ll have to talk to her.”

“I just was-’

“-without anyone else being the buffer. Bobby, both your lives is evidence enough that some things are too trivial to stress over.” Athena pinned her stern gaze on her husband. The same husband is actively trying to avoid her penetrating gaze.

“What I did-’

“Is in the past, Bobby. You have a second chance with that wonderful woman in that bedroom and our grandchild. Now, are you sure that having the party at the firehouse is okay?”

A hand supported the base of your back where an ache tended to stay for most of the day. That ache wasn’t the worst symptom of your pregnancy. You had heartburn constantly that tied with unfortunate constipation that had thankfully lessened. Your purse always had a cardigan for the hot flashes as well.

“Perfect! May has my car, and Bobby needed that.” Athena beamed from the open bay of the 118. One of the firefighters, Eddie, if you recalled, snagged your purse and the specific ingredient for a recipe.

“You could have borrowed Bobby’s-”

“His vehicle is in the shop Buck.” Athena interrupted the only member of the 118 you had let to officially meet.

Now there were two suspects of the sudden shortness of breath you started experiencing. It could be Poppy in the limited space in your body or the handsome firefighter. Buck had to be hands down none of the most attractive men you’d ever encountered. His dark blonde hair had minimal height, but the soft waves made your fingers itch to feel it. His ocean blue eyes crinkled at the corners with mirth.

“Ah, so you’re flesh and blood of Cap?” Buck questioned from in front of you. His blue eyes centred solely on you, with half a mind thanking himself that he could navigate the station blindfolded in the dark.

“For the last twenty-seven years, I have been.” You retorted, stopping at the edge of the stairs to the apparatus. Your keen sense of smell catching one of your favourite meals your father had dug up from the recipes he hadn’t used in years.

A zing of electricity trailed off your arm when a calloused palm met yours. Your e/c eyes followed the path of tan skin until it reached the shirt sleeve of Buck’s t-shirt. The shirt emblazoned on the chest with the department’s insignia. The man in the casual uniform guided you safely up the stairs with his hand on your back.

The pressure of Buck’s hand on your aching back muscle nearly brought what would be an embarrassing moan from your lips. Thankfully a gasp of surprise fell out instead at the banner hanging with other decorations.

“What?” You choked, cupping your hands to your face. Pure unadulterated shock and affection flooded every inch of you.

The entire 118 squad intermixed with their loved ones surrounded the open area with grins. On a table behind everyone was many wrapped gifts. But the cake was the most impressive.

A large rectangular cake in the realistic shape of a fire engine parked in front of a fire hydrant with a fondant hose going to the truck. On top of the fire truck was the turnout boots next to the matching helmet, the 118 proudly on it. You adored the turnout coat draping off the top to hang off the side.

“If you look at the helmet, it says Poppy.” Buck enthused, guiding you even closer to catch the immaculate cake, “It has to be the best cake we’ve gotten from them.”

“Hey, my rebar head cake was phenomenal!” Chimney called with a belying grin on his face. His hand encased by a brunette woman about his height with her heels on.

“It’s a long story.” Buck offered as soon as you gave him a weird questioning look, “Let me introduce you to everyone!”

For the next five minutes, you spend it by meeting the family of 118, including Eddie’s completely adorable son. Christopher was happy to sit next to you as soon as Harry had found you. Slowly the others came closer to hear the stories.

“What’re the most common injuries on the beach?” Denny, Hen and Karen’s ten-year-old son questioned.

“Bluebottle Jellyfish stings. On one day, we had hundreds of people come to the tower for stings, and the treatment for the minor ones is stingose spray and ice.”

“My question is how a girl from Minnesota is a lifeguard in Australia. Especially on Sydney’s most dangerous beach.” Chimney inserted, waving his bottle of pop at you, his eyes kept moving towards the wine Maddie brought.

Unfortunately, the 118 wouldn’t be celebrating with the wine until their shifts ended in a few short hours. It was a damn miracle they hadn’t been called out yet.

“This former Minnesotan spent summers at my best friend’s parents’ place in Cali as a lifeguard. Also, Bondi is not the most dangerous beach in Sydney. That’s Tamarama.” You pointed towards the man who raised his hands in surrender.

“Have you ever seen a dead body?” Harry asked, bringing a sobering silence in the question’s wake.

Your body language changed as soon as he asked, “Unfortunately, I’ve seen death as a paramedic and as a lifeguard.”

“You’re a paramedic? I thought you were just a lifeguard?” Buck asked, interested in the new information. Buck could feel his Captain’s eyes on the back of his head; he was sure Bobby could smell the attraction on Buck.

“Casual lifeguard. Called when needed as a backup.” You turned your e/c eyes towards the arguably youngest member of the 118.

“How many dead-”

“Harry.” Athena warned her son from continuing a topic that killed the ease and happiness you’d shown previously, “Why don’t we stop talking about-”

“Too many, Harry.” You interrupted your stepmom with a gentle smile towards the woman, “It’s not just drowning that claims lives but also the cliffs surrounding the beaches. Lifeguards patrol more than the beaches and water. Lifeguards respond to medical emergencies, mostly spinal until the paramedics arrive.”

“Oh-”

“I had a fellow lifeguard leave the job because of the suicides we deal with.”

“...who wants cake?” Karen used the quiet interlude of the much too serious topic for a group of kids barely in the double digits of ages. All referenced children followed Hen’s life to the beautiful baked creation.

“Sorry for getting dark there.”

“We all know the dark side of the jobs we chose to do. You sound like you miss Australia. Are you going to return there?” Eddie questioned with one eye pinned on his son, consuming more sugar than he wished.

Eddie’s question did raise self-doubt, but you knew that ultimately living in Australia was no longer a viable option. 

“There’s nothing there for me.”

Eddie, Buck and your father understood that mentality to a ‘t’ with family complications keeping them away. Your father for obvious reasons, whereas Eddie and Buck each had a living family with opinions only they saw right.

“You’re always welcome here. Especially when you bring that little cutie to the firehouse.” Maddie cooed towards your baby bump. The 911 dispatcher had asked many questions about your pregnancy.

 Maddie was the type of person who could make a stranger feel like they had known for their entire lives.

“Here.”

A plate of the cake was thrust in front of your face courtesy of Maddie’s brother Buck. It is quite literally the perfect size you could ask for. In his other hand, he had a new bottle of water waiting for you to grab.

“Thank you, Buck.” Your shock must have shown in your voice when his cheeks flushed.

“This whole party is a celebration for you, so you shouldn’t have to get up...unless you want to!” Buck rushed to respond, getting more flustered with the amused look of his older sister on him, “You’re already doing something absolutely amazing, so you should get to rela-”

“Buck!” You laughed, ending the older man’s rambling thoughts. The entire party attendees had started watching Buck’s failed smooth attempt.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Buck mutely nodded in response, “No prob-”

The bell was the one to interrupt him instead. The on-duty firefighters rushed down from the upper levels to the lockers. The swift suiting up impressed you as it was like you blinked, and the bay was empty.

“Should be the last call before they get off shift.” Maddie, still occupied with the cake she was eating, “That wine looks so good!”

Your attention snapped from the vacant spots the 118 vehicles parked to the woman ploughing down on the cake. Sure it was good, but not that good. Maybe you could tell as a pregnant woman, or perhaps you just caught some of the symptoms you felt.

“How far along are you?”

Maddie froze, “What are you talk-”

“You’re pregnant, right?”

“Don’t tell anyone. Chim and I found out recently, but we want to wait on telling people. Once the first trimester is over, everyone can know.” Maddie pleaded with two hands cupped under her chin in a prayer position. The pretty brunette using the puppy dog eyes on the new friend she’d made.

“You should tell Buck-”

“We will once we enter the safe zone. So tell me about your baby’s father.” Maddie swiftly changed the subject, unaware of the ache developing in your midsection.

“Lucas Gowan.” You mussed, recalling the freckled half Australian half Scots man with the thick red locks.

“Ooh, is he still in Australia?”

“Technically, he is. I met him at the grocery store near the university campus. I’d transferred to escape my grief. It was purely an attraction at first sight before developing into love at first sight. We convocated and moved into a cosy little place. We’d only just found out about the baby when Lucas passed away.”

As you told Maddie, your hand had moved to cradle the only remaining piece of Lucas. 

“His death was unexpected and sudden. He’d taken a run the morning of our scan to find out baby Gowan’s gender. He fell off the side of the cliff. I was told he died instantly. The investigator believes his shoelace untied, and he stepped on it. Fell right off the side.”

“I’m so sorry.” Maddie breathed, leaning closer to hold your hands in her own, “He’d be so proud of you. For returning to the states. Do you keep in contact with his family?”

“He was an only child. Parents died in a car accident when he was ten years old. He was in foster care until he aged out of the system. Poppy is named after his mom.”

Maddie instinctively knew talking about Lucas was, “You know you get along pretty well with Buck... I’ve never seen him so flustered.”

“Maddie, I can tell you are a very intelligent woman, but you’re wrong here. Why would a guy like Buck be interested in a pregnant woman with a reconciling relationship with her father and his Captain while grieving her baby’s dad?”

Maddie tilted her head to the side, “Because I know my brother. He’s only ever had that look when I first moved to LA. Back when Abby was still important to him.”

“We’ll just have to agree to disagree.”

Maddie’s mouth opened to speak, but you were saved by the bell when Athena called you over for pictures. Then her attempts got thwarted once more when the 118 returned to the house perfectly synced to the end of shift.

“Driving here was the last time until the baby’s here. You’ve got precious cargo-”

“I’m seven months pregnant; I can still drive. There’s no law saying I can’t-”

Never argue with Athena Grant-Nash, “It may not be illegal, but I won’t endanger my daughter or my granddaughter.”

“I have to get to my OB/GYN appointment tomorrow. You and Dad each have a long shift during my scheduled appointment. Harry is both too young to drive and in school. May has a shift at dispatch. There’s literally no one available to take me.”

Bobby watched as two of the most important women in his life argued over something as trivial as driving. Harry shook at listening to someone fighting against his mother; she could be terrifying.

“I can take her.”

Everyone in the fir house turned to the voice who’d offered suddenly and found the sheepish form of a tall firefighter. Eddie’s eyebrows raised at his best friend.

“I don’t work tomorrow. I’ve got no plans. Albert’s got some date with a girl at her place.”

“I couldn’t put you out.”

“You need a ride, and I’ll be bored, so why not take my new friend to her baby doctor.”

“Baby doctor?” Hen parroted to her wife in astonishment towards her coworker and close friend. Both the women found the blatant flirting from Buck to the soon to be mother.

“She’ll take you up on the offer. She’s staying in our guest room. Come early for breakfast before you go. We’ll be having waffles.”

Buck found any excuse to visit the Grant-Nash home with the motive to hang out with you ever since the baby shower. From delivering baked goods from your favourite bakery to insisting on driving you to appointments. Didn’t matter if Athena or Bobby could take you; Buck was adamant he drove you.

The friendship was easy going and very natural, like a ball glove still moulded perfectly to your hand. The hangouts in your home evolved to weekly visits to restaurants with guidelines to the current event happening worldwide. 

Ultimately it even led to a test date.

“You look breathtaking.” Buck breathlessly informed you once he’d gently pushed your chair closer to the table.

“Thank you.” You kindly responded despite thinking the complete opposite to the charming man sitting across from you.

Athena and May had helped you get ready for the date with calming words on how going on a date so far into the pregnancy was okay. Then, your father had tentatively inserted himself with sage advice on re-entering the dating scene.

“I thought we could grab some ice cream after,” Buck spoke up as soon as the waiter had taken your drink order. Buck had decided to refrain from alcohol and went with glasses of lemonade and water.

“You shouldn’t say that. I’ll just want ice cream.” You snickered, caressing the taut belly you’d grown to love. In fact, the firm push of a heel announced Poppy’s agreement with ice cream as dessert.

“How is Poppy?”

“The doc says she’s right on track. Healthy all around and in the position, she’s supposed to be at this stage.” Buck adored the affectionate smile that always appeared when the topic of your pregnancy was brought up.

“That’s amazing! Bobby gushes about you and Poppy. The fridge has an entire door dedicated to sonograms of Poppy. Even a few from that maternity shoot Hen and Maddie surprised you with.”

A few weeks had passed since the baby shower the 118 had surprised you with. Maddie had announced her pregnancy to the joy of the chosen family she had. Bobby had put together a crib he had painted. Michael, Athena’s ex-husband, had started making plans for adding on to the house for a room for the baby.

Despite informing the architect, you planned on moving out when you had saved enough, he’d made a sound argument. Athena would want a place for the baby to stay when you visited, or the woman demanded to babysit.

Now you found yourself in a National forest not far from Los Angeles, posing in front of nature. A surprise photoshoot Hen and Karen had organized with Karen’s brother Trey. Maddie and Athena had been the ones who drove you.

“Hold the teddy bear on your bump,” Trey informed you from behind his professional and intimidating camera. The photographer praised you in the rapid movement to listen to his offer.

“Hey! Maddie! You should take a few photos. I need a pee break.” You didn’t wait for Maddie to respond in your rush to the somewhat rustic bathroom hut.

By the time you returned, Maddie was taking a couple pictures. Then you took some with Athena to have on the nursery walls and for Bobby to have a photo for his desk.

“Now one with all three of you.”

Present

“So a daredevil.” You stated unsurprised that the firefighter had a history of recklessness. You don’t go into firefighting without a taste for danger.

“The bruises and blood fit better than the awful bleached hair during my time in Peru.” Buck laughed, recalling the questionable choice in his fashion pre-firefighting. Sometimes he missed the people he encountered in his period of self-discovery.

“You didn’t wear puka sh-”

“I did. Bleached hair, puka shells and Hawaiian shirts were my staples during my bartending years. I fit in with the aesthetic of the bar I tended.”

“Buck!” You nearly gasped at his raw honesty. Buck didn’t hold back any answers to your questions, but you each strayed from the topic of family.

Talking about the tragic family history wasn’t a good idea on the first time regardless of the time you’d known each other.

“You’re telling me-” Buck halted as soon as he caught the flash of discomfort flicker over your beautiful features, “Are you okay?”

“She shifted. Been sitting on my blad-” You cut yourself off with a hiss of pain. Buck’s eyes widened at the pain taking over your features, “Oh, that hurt.”

Buck went straight into work mode, “Have you been in pain for long?”

“No. A few cramps here and there today, but my doctor said it was nothing to worry about.” You informed the experienced first responder resting level to your knees.

Buck didn’t want to say it, but he was sure that you’d gone into early labour. There was no indication your water had broken, but he kept over the last hour together. Every once in a while, you shifted or pressed a hand to your bump.

“Has your water broken?”

You shook your head, “No, but...oh... that’s not a cramp.”

With that statement out, you clenched your fingers tight on the edge of the table as pain rippled in your belly. A contraction that stole your breath momentarily. In your contraction, Buck had dialled 911. Buck recalled that sometimes a woman’s water doesn't break until right before the birth.

“We’re not getting that ice cream, are we?” You snorted upon being lifted onto the gurney. How fortunate or unfortunate you were to have the 118 right there.

Hen had taken a position at your feet to check on your lower body while Chimney took your vital signs. You honestly didn’t like the look Hen and Chimney shared with Buck.

“What is it?”

“We’re gonna need to deliver here.” Hen sighed, giving you the facts that terrified you. When you envisioned having the baby, it was in a medical centre. Not in a restaurant.

“My office is large and away from the crowd if you want. I can show you the way.” Sophie, the restaurant manager, offered already starting to lead the way. Sophie would never know how thankful you felt for being able to have privacy.

“Okay, Y/N, is it okay if I check how dilated you -.” Hen breathed with her hand, gently disappearing until the thin blanket Chimney procured from the stocked ambulance, “Y/N when I saw I want you to do that.”

Hen didn’t need to check your dilation when she could see the baby’s head already.

“I’m right here.” Buck cooed in your ear. He had held your hand as his coworkers did their jobs around you.

“This isn’t the way I envisioned you seeing my pu-”

“Push.” Hen urged, cutting off your almost vulgar language, but it eased the tension in the small restaurant office. You couldn’t even see Buck’s flustered reaction as you bore down with the contraction, “Good! Take a breath.”

“You’re a strong woman. It never ceases to amaze me the strength women have.” Buck spoke, keeping your e/c eyes on his blue ones. His hand raised to push a strand of your sweaty hair off your temple.

“Once more push!” Hen called out just in time with the last contraction. The feeling of the pressure between your legs popping was moan inducing.

Poppy was silent. Your entire body froze, yearning for the sweet sound of crying instead of the eerie silence. The world stood still as Chimney worked on your baby girl.

“Pulse is strong,” Chimney announced, keeping his attention on the task of clearing Poppy’s throat and nose. And that sweet sound of crying commenced, “Congratulations Y/N, you have a beautiful baby girl. Let’s get you to the hospital.”

Your father beat the ambulance to the nearest ER in pure anticipation at meeting his granddaughter Poppy Nash Gowan. He barely noticed as Buck stuck to your side like glue. Bobby waited outside the door as you got checked over in the room.

“Quite the first date.” You mused towards Buck, who hovered in awe over the life form you had carried for nine months. You’d been pregnant for three quarters of an entire year to his fascination. 

“All my meaningful relationships started with a medical emergency.” Buck finally looked up at you. He’d kept Poppy company in the bassinet while you delivered the afterbirth upon entering the hospital.

“Seriously?”

“Had a tracheostomy on Valentine’s Day with Abby, an earthquake with Ali and a newscaster in a crashed helicopter.” Buck listed off. He hadn’t even noticed scooping the newborn into his arms until he’d sat in the chair by your bed, “Why not add a sudden labour and delivery.”

“He would have liked you.”

The sentence came out of absolutely nowhere. Almost like something had ripped it out of your vocal cords. At the look of confusion, you elaborated.

“Lucas. He would have liked you. I think if it is possible, he might have pushed me into meeting you. I’ll still need to take it slow, but I’d like to give this a shot.”

That was all Buck needed to lean in closer to kiss you—the first of many kisses.

Some might disagree on how quick your relationship with Buck developed, but they didn’t know yours at all. It was natural with the firefighter who stepped into the role of father figure for a growing Poppy. By the time Poppy was one, you’d moved into a house not far from your father’s place with Buck. By the time Poppy was three, a pretty ring had sat on your finger. By five, the young girl had a baby brother. 

“Your parents spoil Poppy.”

“You say that like you didn’t crawl into her crib during her afternoon naps.” You deadpanned towards your husband. Buck had the nerve to sheepishly grin, “You give in each time she says ‘pwetty pwease’ for a cookie.”

“It’s a crime to make her sad!” Buck defended himself, but a grin of amusement threatened his act, “Besides, you crack each time too!”

“Mhm. Just wait until Theo can talk.” You pressed a kiss to the sleeping infant strapped into the baby carrier. Theodore Robert Buckley could fall asleep in a thunderstorm if he was in Buck’s arms.

“Oh! Maddie wants to have Poppy over for a play date. Madster’s been begging for her cousin to have a sleepover.”

Maddie and Chimney’s daughter was only a few months younger than your daughter, but the two were thick as thieves. Buck had referred to the Han daughter as Madster with how similar her mannerisms were to her mother.

“Think they’d take the rascal?”

“Is this code for you wanting to have another?” Buck questioned with a twinkle of mischief in his blue eyes. The same blue Theo had inherited along with a birthmark like Buck’s on his bicep.

“I-” You choked, blinking furiously, “Evan, I pushed Theo out of my body barely three months ago!”

Buck inconspicuously winked in response with the sudden scream of excitement coming from Poppy. The rambunctious five-year-old ploughed into Buck’s legs full force. Falling into the practised ease, you’d unstrapped Theo from Buck’s chest and promptly had his tiny body stolen into his grandpa’s arms.

“There’s my boy.” Bobby cooed to the sleep drunk tiny infant. The little baby is crowded by his Gram Athena and Aunt May, “Gonna have to get you a Minnesota Wilds jersey.”

“Hell no. That boy is LA born and bred. He’ll be wearing a Kings jersey like the civilized.” Michael announced with the sudden arrival of Theo and Poppy’s Uncle Harry.

“Mommy? When are we going to Stralia?” Poppy inquired from right beside your leg. Her tiny handheld is the giant one of her dad.

“In a few weeks. Are you excited to see the mommy’s old friends again?”

“Hm. Can we see Dada?”

Buck may be Poppy’s father, but he’d never let Poppy go without knowing she had two fathers in all. Her first one waiting to meet here decades from the time she was born and solely referenced Lucas as Dada. Buck was grateful for the man who brought Poppy into existence; the little green-eyed tot Buck could never regret. Unlike Buck’s parents keeping his older brother’s existence a secret, the firefighter refused to follow in their footsteps. He’d continue to shower the late Lucas in gratitude and respect. He refused to make the same mistakes as Phillip and Margaret Buckley.

“Of course. C’mon Poppy, time to say goodbye.” Buck guided the little girl to the extended family showering her little brother with love. The little girl was quickly swung into Bobby’s arms, and Athena cooing at your infant son.

Changes. The six-letter word doesn’t have to be terrifying. It can be breathtaking, memorable and beautiful to experience. 

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[jackdaw-sprite]

Ectober 22 - Favor

What does it mean, to have the favor of someone like Clockwork?

Warnings: None, other than general creepiness? References to a child in very poor health.

Word Count: ~3450

The doctor's mouth was still moving, but it wasn't making any sound. That was odd, Dan decided. He was feeling a floating sort of detachment. A sense of unreality cushioned him, wrapped him in cotton and began towing him under.

Surely, this had to be a dream. A nightmare.

She fell out of his way and suddenly he was in the hall, cool lighting casting the hospital-mint walls in a deathly glow.

He had to get out, he had to leave here before it became real, before--

He jammed a finger on the elevator call button and oh, waiting was no good, he couldn't wait for the elevator it would take forever to come. He shoved open the staircase door and stumbled down, footsteps echoing too loud off concrete walls and metal railings.

Everything was so harsh.

He couldn't, he couldn't--

There, the ground floor exit. He fell against it and it clacked open. Why was everything so loud?

Harsh lights again, buzzing from the lights or no, lights hadn't buzzed in decades, that was just his head, his head.

He fled through the doors at the hospital entrance and finally found he could breathe again.

He took a great, choking gasp and then another, lungs heaving as the words finally penetrated into his brain.

No.

No! He couldn't lose his daughter, not like this. Anna wasn't--he was supposed to die before her. Children were supposed to outlive their parents! He couldn't, why hadn't he been there?

And now Anna was--

She was.

They'd mentioned hospice, he thought. Hospice, for those who could only be made comfortable.

Mom had gone, before the end.

No.

He couldn't accept that.

Another shuddering gasp, and why hadn't he ever picked up smoking? He hadn't become an astronaut, in the end. It wouldn't have kept him from his lifetime of astrophysics lectures and academia. Why couldn't he have something to try and shorten his own life, to soothe the ragged pain now tearing its way through his chest?

His daughter!

More huffs of air. It occurred to him that they hurt, now. The January night was icy in the cruelest sort of way, air cutting into his flesh at the seams of his clothes, clawing at his chest where his coat lay open.

He should probably close it.

He didn't. Instead, Dan looked up.

Past the glaring lights surrounding the hospital, to the night sky. A few decades ago there'd been several initiatives to reduce light pollution across the country and at least he had that, now.

At least he could look on the stars he loved as he wondered what to do.

They were so cold.

He was so cold.

Anna would be--

No.

She couldn't.

He'd do anything. Pay any price.

His mother was gone, and he'd lost faith in his parents' ghost stories before he ever left the house. He'd lost it the day their portal, their beloved magnum opus, had failed.

But something...

Maybe.

If there was even a scrap of truth to those stories, then...

Danny, his mother had told him, the memory now scratched and hazy with time, Danny, don't ever, ever make a deal with them. And don't ever plead. Or promise out loud. You never know if they're listening.

He'd done it as a rebellious teenager, of course. A couple of times, just to prove his parents the fools twice over. Ghosts weren't real.

He'd never meant it, though. Never said it with intention.

"Plea--" his voice caught, descended into a hacking cough. The air out here was frigid.

"Please. Please, if anyone's listening. I don't care who, I'll do anything to let her live her life, to let her be happy."

Silence. His knees nearly buckled.

"She's my daughter. Please!"

His breath clouded in the light from the street lamps.

Distantly, there was the sound of traffic.

...

He should've known, shouldn't even have bothered. Of course nothing happened. What was he thinking? His parents had been hacks before they died. The punchline to an elaborate joke, to the scientific community. He'd spent all of his twenties and half his thirties working to overcome their reputation.

And here he was, acting his daughter's age. Believing in the fantasy his parents had wasted their lives on, that he thought he'd given up on when he was 14.

Oh, god. She was only 14.

"Anything?"

Dan froze, too aware of the perfect silence which now surrounded him. Except for--

One voice and many, a wash of echoing whispers from above, all coalescing into a single point.

Impossible.

"Anything at all?" repeated the stars. And they folded themselves into the shape of a boy.

Dan stumbled back, the scrape of his boots against concrete loud in the overwhelming quiet.

"You said anything," said the boy.

"I--I didn't mean--"

"You did," it insisted. "Of course you did. Anything. Anything at all, for family."

Was Dan having a heart attack? Maybe he wouldn't outlive Anna, after all. Maybe it would end here, with this--what was it? It didn't look like any ghost he'd ever imagined. But then.

Go back far enough, and ghost stories and faerie tales become the same, whispered Maddie Fenton, from decades in the past.

"What?" Dan rasped.

The figure cocked its head. Its body was a flat hole to the cosmos. Dan couldn't read its expression except for the eyes burning like stars in its face.

"What are you?"

The ghost, the fairy, barked a laugh. "What do you think I am, Daniel James Fenton? Who do you think would listen to you, out of all the desperate fathers in the world?"

"I don't--"

It floated nearer, the angle of its head mocking. "It doesn't matter what I am, I don't think." Its voice was arctic, sharp. Echoing. "Nor who I am."

"Not to you."

Alien.

It continued. "I think you only care about what it is that I can give you."

"I didn't--" Dan's heart was beating too fast in his chest. Was the ice eating its way through it from the winter cold, or from this creature?

"It's a fair price, you know. I don't intervene for just anyone. I spend my time on other duties, not stalking humans for deals. But you have something rare."

What?

"Something precious," it lingered on the last word, descending closer to the ground. To Dan.

"What...what is it?" Dan asked. Then, hastily, "and what would you give me?"

The ghost sounded like it was grinning. He couldn't see its teeth, but its eyes were upturned crescent moons. "In return, Anna's life, full. Happy, healthy." How did it know her name.

Keep your spine straight and don't show them fear.

"You didn't answer the first part, ghost."

"Free will."

Was that laughter in its voice?

"What?"

"In return, your free will. Incredible, isn't it? I don't think you'll miss it."

It was laughter. The ghost was outright cackling now, like it had told a particularly funny joke.

He hadn't thought a ghost would be this emotive, however skewed they were.

"And that's a joke to you, is it?" Dan hadn't meant his tone to be so forceful, but frustration and anxiety were churning in his chest. This--this thing was holding his daughter's life over him.

Taunting him.

The ghost's eyes dimmed from searing titanium white to a cooler yellow as the humor vanished from its voice.

"Well, no. It's a punchline, okay? To an inside joke."

Well, Dan couldn't begin to guess what was funny about his free will even if he were in a better mood. He swallowed. Was this ghost even sane?

Did it matter, if it could do what it said?

Anna, grown and happy. Healthy. Color in her cheeks, joy on her face, hair streaming in the wind--

But what did it want?

"Why are you doing this?" Dan demanded.

The ghost didn't swing back into raucous good humor. Instead, it hung where it was, seeming to think.

"I can't give you a full explanation. Like I said, that'd take too long."

The ghost hadn't said.

"But, I can give you enough information to figure part of it out yourself. It's only...fair, I guess."

Light crawled over the ghost's form, and it dropped to the ground. In its place stood a young boy, about Anna’s age. About her build, too. She'd gotten it from him.

Him.

Dan had looked that face in the mirror for over four decades, now. It had age lines these days, a second chin from too many cafeteria doughnuts and too little exercise. But.

He was looking at himself, as he had been when he was a teenager.

He reared back.

"What the hell is this, is this--is this some kind of sick joke?"

The ghost smiled then, and its teeth were wrong. Long. Sharp.

"You'd hope so, wouldn't you?"

It wasn't the manic grin he'd heard in its voice before. It was softer. A little rueful.

If nothing else, this ghost was good at pretending human emotions when it tried. As if to prove the point, it scuffed a shoe on the concrete. For an instant, it looked for all the world like one of his daughter's classmates. Awkward and unsure in an uncomfortable situation.

Reflexively, Dan found himself searching for an out for him before remembering who he was dealing with. What.

The boy spoke again. "But that's the price. Give Anna a good life, a full life. Guarantee it. And in return, the free will you've enjoyed all yours."

He was going to do this, Dan realized. How stupid was that? He didn't even really know what this kid meant by free will, or what he was giving up. But he'd asked for help at any price, and he really was willing to pay it.

Dan swallowed. Like the ghost said. Anything.

Anything, for family.

"What--" his voice caught. Was he about to say goodbye to everything he'd ever known? Would he be a robot, an automaton after this? What would the ghost even do with his free will?

"What will it be like, without it?"

The boy's expression didn't change at the slip of intention. Instead, he tilted his head, considering.

"In general? I don't think you'll miss it. Or notice you don't have it, really."

There was a moment of contemplative silence. The boy's eyes were downcast, lips twisted a little at some hidden irony.

"I mean, I missed it, but I haven't had it since the day I was born, so it's really more like I missed the thought of it, you know?" He looked up at Dan.

Dan didn't know.

"You never had it?" The ghost didn't seem like a robot. He was a long way from human but he had a personality. Thoughts.

"Nope!" He popped the p, rocking back on his heels.

But Dan had gotten distracted from what he really wanted to know.

"What happens to me if I say yes?"

The ghost's smile was soft. Fond, almost.

"At first? Nothing. You get the rest of your life with your daughter. He wouldn't hurt you by taking that. Your choices...matter just as much as they do in most timelines." The ghost's lips quirked and for a moment Dan thought he might start laughing again.

Instead, it continued, warmth coloring its voice.

"After, well. That's good, too. You get family, love. You get to spend the rest of your days learning about space. You'll have a purpose, be happy. Ghosts like us, we can't be unhappy doing what we do."

"Like us."

"Yeah."

"I'll be like you, then?"

Apparently, there was something funny about that. Dan thought he might have an idea why.

"Yeah."

"That sounds..."

"Nice? Too good to be true?" His voice was cooler again.

"Yes."

The boy was outright smiling again now, sharp and sad and knowing.

"In return for your free will, since you were born? Across every timeline?"

"Every--"

Dan didn't care.

Even if the ghost had told him he'd be tortured to the end of his days, he didn't care.

And really, hadn't he already done it? The ghost had his face. Maybe there was something funny about free will, after all.

He cast a final look at the heavens. One last moment, free.

Funny how they'd always been associated with fate.

He stuck out his hand.

"Fine. I accept."

The boy seized his hand with a smile. It was wild, sharp enough to cut. His nails pressed like pinpricks against the back of Dan's hand.

He shook once, a single, abrupt motion.

Then, he vanished. With him, he took the too-bright parking lot at the foot of the county hospital. The night sky winked out soon after.

Dan was, quite abruptly, inside.

Distant sounds of neighbors filtered through the closed window. The antique clock, a gift from Jazz, ticked in the silence.

This was his study.

Dan sat a moment, stunned. Then, he was up, flinging his chair back fast enough that it slammed into the table behind him. He flailed at the doorknob he couldn't quite see in the darkness, hurled the door open and himself through it, taking the stairs two at a time to see--

Anna, alive, happy, healthy in the kitchen, working on her homework. He seized her in a great hug.

"Dad, what?"

He caught a whiff of her favorite shampoo, and tears came to his eyes. She hadn't been home to use it for weeks, she'd been stuck in that wretched, awful place as the life crept out of her body.

"Daaaaaad!"

He had thought he would have to bury her.

Dan couldn't bring himself to regret the deal he'd just made. Wasn't it the duty of a parent, to do everything in their power to make sure their child ended up happy and healthy?

No matter what? ---

"Clockwork?"

The ghost turned at his name. Daniel was framed in the doorway, rubbing sleep from dark bags beneath his eyes.

"Yes, Daniel?"

"Can I watch you work?"

"Of course."

Daniel settled into his usual perch on one of the slow-moving gears.

The child had woken from a nightmare a few minutes ago. In a few more, Daniel would need to talk. Until then, he would benefit most if Clockwork were simply a calm, nearby presence.

He returned to his screens, pretending to work to give Daniel the time to formulate his questions.

"Clockwork?"

"Yes, Daniel?"

"I..."

It was a difficult question to ask. Clockwork waited.

"Am I...would they." Daniel halted. "Do they--?"

He moved closer, put his hand on Daniel's shoulder. It seemed to give the boy the strength to finish his sentence.

"Would they choose me, or their work?"

Unsaid, the question unwound between them. Would they still love me, if they knew? Would they accept me, or try to fix me? Would they just see me as research? A new project?

And the answer...Clockwork couldn't truthfully give the answer his child so desperately wished to hear.

He couldn't control the actions of Madeline and Jack Fenton. Not really.

Clockwork needed an invitation to alter fate so thoroughly. And he hadn't received it for the Fenton parents. Daniel would never give him that permission. Would never think to do so.

At Clockwork's silence, Daniel emitted a tiny "Oh." Then, his shoulders began to shake.

Clockwork wrapped him in a hug, letting his cloak surround the child, holding him tight to his chest.

Clockwork could not fix Daniel's parents. Could not mend the rift in that family, could not make them suddenly into reasonable people, mindful parents.

Not without preventing Daniel's birth, which was unacceptable.

He could reassure, though. Comfort.

Clockwork began to speak in a low, gentle voice.

"You deserve love, Daniel. Always believe that." He stroked a hand through Daniel's hair. "I would know, wouldn't I?"

"I love you, Daniel. I love you so, so much. You're so wonderful, so curious and clever and quick and kind."

"I will always love you, Daniel. Always."

There was sniffling. Poor child.

"Even, time?"

Clockwork knew what Daniel was asking. Ancients could not help but put their obsession above everything else, before everything else. Clockwork's was time. But he'd found a loophole. A beautiful, gorgeous little loophole with Daniel at the center of it.

Time and space were linked. What benefited, what protected one would protect the other as well.

"Shh, Daniel," Clockwork whispered into his child's ear.

In every timeline in which he existed, Daniel adored the stars.

"If I would ever, could ever need to choose between you and time, I wouldn't have picked you."

There was no Ancient of Space. Yet.

“I don’t need to choose, to make you happy.”

Ancients lasted a long, long while. They could not be anything but content with their existence. How could they be otherwise? They had a singular purpose driving through the core of them and eons in which to pursue it. And they had the power to fulfill their purpose to its utmost.

Time times happiness, times the timelines it happened in. It was a simple equation, with a simple result: what was best for Daniel was what was best for time. And space.

"You'll always be happy, in the end."

Even better: the strength of an Ancient's obsession would erode anything that made them unhappy with their lot. Clockwork certainly didn't miss those old worries.

Daniel wouldn't, either.

"I made sure of it."

Eventually.

For some reason, Daniel didn't seem comforted by this. Clockwork contemplatively scanned the near future, running a gloved hand through his child's hair. That usually helped.

"'ree will?" Daniel mumbled.

"Hm?"

"What about free will?"

"What about it?"

"Doesn't that mean I don't have it?"

Clockwork hummed, idly. "What's your point?"

Daniel froze.

Ah. Clockwork could see the problem, now. The solution was easy enough.

He waited for Daniel to speak again.

"...I'm kinda attached to my free will, Clockwork."

First, clarify the situation.

"You've never had it." He hugged his child closer. "Have you missed it at all?"

"...Yes?"

"But you didn't even notice it was missing."

Daniel was silent, so Clockwork continued.

"I think you like the idea of free will."

Express sympathy.

"It's certainly an interesting one. I can see why you would want it."

Even if it required a little white lie here and there.

Daniel began to radiate anxiety, so Clockwork purred a little to soothe him.

"But what kind of guardian would I be if I let you truly risk permanent harm? A poor one. Besides," he added. "I don't have it either. Do I seem unhappy to you?"

Daniel started a little -- surprise? -- but the question got Daniel to speak again.

"A little."

Clockwork huffed a laugh into Daniel's hair. "There's a difference between grumpy and unhappy. I'm content with my place, despite certain annoyances. And I'm certainly happy when I'm spending time with you."

Daniel's posture slackened a bit at that. Good.

Clockwork let the moment linger. Savored the close contact.

Finally: offer a concession. A distraction. Like a joke told to children receiving a shot.

"If you really are attached to the idea, I suppose I could let you have a side timeline with it. On some conditions."

"...Which ones?"

"It can't be one where the portal works."

Daniel shifted in his arms.

Clockwork explained. "I refuse to let any version of you suffer through your ghost-born struggles by yourself. And you must have a good chance at a happy life."

They were fair terms. More than fair, considering the risk.

"Okay."

But then, Clockwork already knew the outcome even without interfering.

"And, you must be able to ask for help. It wouldn't be right to deny that version of you help if he wanted it, right?"

Daniel was slow to respond. "...right."

Clockwork already knew which timeline he would tease apart from the main line. From a certain perspective, he'd already done it.

After all, he had needed an invitation to intervene so heavily as he had. And the Observants' original demands had only requested a resolution to a single mess. Not nearly enough to keep Daniel safe and happy. Not nearly as much as Clockwork wanted.

"There you go. Do you feel better?" Clockwork hoped so. He hated hearing Daniel so distraught, even over such odd things.

He loved his son so very much.

"I guess."

Not entirely true. But it would be.

"Good." He held Daniel until the boy shifted uncomfortably in his arms, wanting to return to bed.

"Good night, Daniel. Sleep well."

"Goodnight, Clockwork"

As long as Daniel was happy, after all.

Wasn't it the duty of a parent, to do everything in their power to make sure their child ended up happy and healthy?

No matter what?

[vidalinav]

Stu(died)-Chapter 3

Summary: Cassian takes care of a sick Nesta

Nessian Modern AU-university setting. 

Masterlist, Stu(died) Chapter List 

(Rolls eyes hardcore) I am continuing this fic for literally five people. Smh. 

~

Nesta comes to their tutoring session late and that’s the first thing that tips him off. Already his phone is in his hand ready to call 911. He has Nesta’s number in his phone saved. The first person listed in his text log under Nerd. He can always text or call her. He belongs to The Rat Pack in Nesta’s Snap Chat group, and he knows he can always contact Emerie or Gwyn if something is truly wrong. Yet he dials in 911 and his thumb hovers over the call button.   

If she doesn’t show up in fifteen minutes, Cassian swears he’ll call.  

Nesta’s never late. In fact, she’s annoyingly early. She practically has a stop watch in her hand at all times, counting every minute she waits. When Cassian comes running in five minutes later, as he so often does, panting with some excuse, Nesta doesn’t even bother looking up from her textbook. She merely gestures to the seat, a heavy sigh on her lips, like she’s running out of time to bore him death even as she fascinates him to pieces. 

Her books should already be splayed onto the table, her pencils straight and neatly lined up. Today, the table is empty. 

He’ll give it fifteen minutes and then he’s calling.  

But Nesta shows up before another minute ticks by. She steps out of the elevator wearing that grey polo he’s seen on her a million times. She lugs her way to him, dragging her feet with the weight of those textbooks he’s sure are in her bag. 

She’s wearing a mask, today, and that’s another thing that sends his brain screeching somethings not right here! It covers half of her face, and her eyes look tired from where they peak above the fabric. Cassian doesn’t even bother waiting for her to settle. Already he’s crossing his arms, his brows crinkling with concern and something like irritation. 

How dare she think studying is more important than her health.  

“Go home,” he says as she nears. Nesta only blinks as if as not understanding his words. The fact that she doesn’t immediately argue is enough for him to start gathering his things.  

“What are you doing?” She says as he stuffs his notebook in his bag, “You have an exam in two weeks.” Nesta sets down her own, it slaps at the table with a heavy thump. Cassian can hear the zipper unzipping but not as well as the cough that roars out of her mouth.  

It’s loud and wet, and Nesta pauses as if to get her bearings, covering her mouth with her arm. She coughs and coughs and Cassian lays a hand to his own chest. He can almost feel how much it hurts, how she gasps. 

Cassian shakes his head, “No, I’m taking you home.”  

Nesta’s brows furrow and she gets that look in her eyes. He just knows she’s going to fight him on this. “I--”  

Cassian cuts her off, “please, save your breath. You’re going to make everyone sick.”  

“I’m wearing a mask!” Nesta argues.  

“It’s almost midterms.” Cassian gestures to the other occupants in the library. He sees one person with their hoodie pulled up over their head, clearly sleeping... and moves on to someone else. A group in the corner who’s standing by a whiteboard. “You want to take your chances with sleep deprived students?” 

Nesta seems to think about that. While she does, Cassian zips up her bag and throws it over his shoulder. It’s as heavy as he thought it might be. Briefly, he thinks of making a joke about how she must have stuffed a body in here, but he doesn’t think she’d appreciate it, given how quiet she is.   

Mentally, he starts making a list of everything she needs. Medicine? He’ll get the pills and the syrup, never mind if she scrunches her nose at the taste. He’ll get her soup. Not the canned. Cassian will buy the ingredients. He’s sure he can make something appeasing. Vaguely, he can remember his mom’s recipe. Beef broth and cabbage and squash. Hopefully she can stomach it. Never mind, the salt will be good for her.  

“Hey,” she whines, blinking up at him slowly, “give me my bag.”  

“Have you not heard me? You need to be home lying down. Not here, helping me study. Why on earth did you think this was a good idea? I’m taking you home.”  

Nesta crosses her arms and the intimidation tactic seems ridiculous with her face half covered and her endless sniffling. “You can try, but I’ll just refuse to tell you my apartment number.”  

Cassian scoffs, “I know where you live. I can see your room from the house when you study at night.”   

“Who says that out loud?” Nesta shouts. 

She must be terribly ill if she’s yelling in a library. That’s all he can think as he gestures to the elevator, bags in hand. 

“Never mind that. Let’s go,” Cassian says, walking ahead without her. 

He can’t hear her shuffling though, so he turns back to find Nesta leaning on a chair, holding her stomach. He can already feel himself sighing.   

Cassian rushes back just in time for Nesta to rip off her mask, and move to the closest trashcan. It’s situated under one of the bulletin boards and as Cassian sidles up to her, rubbing at her back and pulling her hair away, he looks to the papers tacked to the board.  

Join the rowing team. Looking for tutors. Research participants wanted.  

He can hear the retching and Cassian reads on. 

Babysitter wanted for professor, transportation needed.

“I haven’t thrown up since middle school,” Nesta says pathetically. She frowns as he hands her his bottle of water. Her nose and cheeks are red and for some reason he thinks of Rudolph, lighting the way for Santa through the storm. 

He feels bad for little Rudolph...

“Now will you let me take you home,” Cassian sighs. He hopes it doesn’t sound like an ‘I told you so’ but she should really be lying down. He lays a hand to her forehead, but she brushes him off, moving towards the bathrooms.  

“I’ll wait right here,” he says, but Nesta moves ahead as if she doesn’t hear him at all. Cassian can’t find it in himself to mind. A sick Nesta is guaranteed to be a stubborn Nesta, he just knows.  

When she gets out, she looks surprised to see him and that’s another look that just proves how sick she must be. It’s a fairly obvious prediction that he’s going to wait next to the girl's bathroom, counting ceiling tiles. It’s a perfectly ‘Cassian with Nesta’ thing to do.  

“You’re skipping class?”   

Nesta coughs again, and she looks perfectly pitiful as she blinks her tired eyes. Cassian can feel his lips frown, and he shifts her bag more securely on his shoulder if only to keep himself from reaching out for her. Already he can feel his hands bunch into fists because he wants to grab her own and squeeze it until she's reassured. He wants to hug her until she feels better.  

But he can’t.  

Cassian lists every action he wants to do. Kiss her forehead where Nesta rubs her hand, because she must have a headache from how sick she is. Put on her favorite movie, so she can fall asleep to its sound. Run to every store, raiding every Walgreens and CVS until he comes back with a pharmacy.  

What might she allow now that she’s sick? Will she let him fuss like he wants to?  

But Nesta rolls her eyes in that haughty way of hers. “You can’t do that.”   

“I can’t do what?” Cassian asks and he wonders if she can read his thoughts. If she studies him so well, reads him like one of her textbooks, memorizing facts and facial features.  

“You can’t skip class,” she argues. “Why am I tutoring you if you’re going to skip class?”  

At the words, all Cassian wants to do is sigh. She’s thinking about attendance at a time like this...   

“Nesta, there is no class more important than you.” 

Her brows crinkle at the center like she’s going to start arguing, but Cassian allows himself one touch. He places his thumb there, between her brows, smoothing out the lines. Nesta rips away, blinking up dazed and all too confused. Cassian would laugh at the look, if he didn’t need the distraction.   

He juts his head to the elevator quickly. “Let’s go. We can walk slow, so don’t overexert yourself.”   

Nesta scrunches up her nose, so cute and red, but she follows him anyway albeit a little petulantly. She holds her hand out for her bag, but Cassian turns toward the doors, pretending not to see.   

“How does me being sick make you bossy?”   

Cassian doesn’t dare to respond. He doesn’t know whether he’ll admit that he wants to take care of her, that’s he’s so worried a knot twists in his stomach, or if he’ll make some joke, he knows will make her mad. Maybe that’s the better option, he thinks. He can handle a mad Nesta. He likes a mad Nesta, but a Nesta who so easily rejects him?   

Cassian doesn’t know about that.   

“You don’t have any classes left this week, right?”   

Nesta coughs into her sleeve before answering. Though she means to sound queenly, she only sounds sick, “you know where I live, and you also know my class schedule... seems suspicious if you ask me.”   

“I’ve known you for two years.” 

“And murder victims are three times more likely to be killed by someone they know." 

Cassian huffs out a laugh, shaking his head, “Do you still go to sleep watching SVU? Or have you switched to Lifetime movies where the babysitters always try to kill the wife?”   

“People should be wary about the people they know,” Nesta shrugs as if that’s answer enough.   

Cassian snorts, “well you don’t have to be wary of me.”   

As the elevator doors open, Cassian gestures for her to go first and Nesta does, but not before crossing her arms.   

“That’s just what a murderer would want me to think.” She squints as if dissecting him, limb by limb. “You kill me, and I’ll haunt you. You won’t be able to sleep at night without thinking of me.” 

Too late, Cassian thinks.  

It’s much too late for that.  

~

Rudolph has the patience of a five-year-old when she’s sick. Cassian learns this fairly quickly when he runs inside a Walgreens on their way to Nesta’s apartment.  

There’s a bench that she can sit on, where she can wait if she feels tired, but no. Nesta decides she needs to run errands. She has an entire basket filled by the time he finds her again. She’s by the greeting cards, holding three open at a time. Cassian huffs with a receipt and medicine in hand.  

“Here,” he says, giving her the cough medicine. “Take some of this.”  

Nesta doesn’t even bother with pouring. He watches as she rips the cap away, taking a swig right out of the bottle, gulping it down.  

“That’s way more than the suggested amount,” he cries, “you can get drunk on this stuff!”  

“Good, maybe I’ll forget this day ever happened.”

Cassian sighs... it seems all he does is sigh when she’s like this. A sick Nesta is a petulant, irritated Nesta with a permanent furrow between her brows. 

“I know you feel sick,” he tries to placate, “but I bet you’d feel a whole lot better if we get you home as soon as we can... so you can lie down and sleep.”  

Nesta only picks up another Halloween card. She ignores his suggestion, laughing under her breath as she reads whatever inane joke is written there. Soon, she’s coughing though, and Cassian reaches for the basket just to stop himself from rubbing a hand down her back, combing his fingers through her hair.  

Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn, his thoughts scream.  

Cassian looks to the contents to distract himself from her watery eyes, and that’s when he notices what she’s grabbed. It seems that while he was in the cold and flu aisle, Nesta was raiding the snacks. 

“What is this?” He gestures to the basket. Two boxes of cereal. Caramel corn. Baked Lay’s and cans of Arizona tea. Cassian takes one and holds it up. “Really Nesta?”  

“What it’s green tea!” she argues, shoving another card back in its slot.   

“This is all... junk,” he tries to explain, but Nesta’s already glowering. 

“Look I don’t question your decisions. You don’t question mine.”  

Cassian gives her a bland look. “You question my decisions all the time. Before we came in here, you literally said ‘why are we going in here, Cassian? Weren’t you supposed to take me home.’ You said that.”

Nesta simply raises her chin, pulling out another card. “I recall no such thing.” 

“Fine,” Cassian grumbles, “if you want to eat yourself to an early grave and ignore everything that could potentially make you feel better than that’s just fine with me.”  

“Good,” she says, putting back the other cards. Nesta settles for a pop-up that sings Monster Mash when she opens it. She sets it in the basket he holds, walking ahead without even looking back. “I’m ready to check out.”  

“Really?” Cassian jokes, mockingly. “Are you sure you raided the candy aisle?” 

Nesta stops in her tracks, peering through the section with printer ink and paper as if she can see the other side. He swears he’d facepalm if he wasn’t carrying all this stuff. 

“You’re right,” she says, nodding. 

“Wait!” Cassian calls. “Where are you going? Nesta!”  

Too late. He can already hear crunching bags. 

The variety packs.  

Cassian sighs, lugging their things to the aisle next door. 

~

“Can I use these vegetables?” Cassian asks, as Nesta shoves open the door to her room. He’s surprised she’s not still by the freezer. When they first get back to her place, she sticks her head in there and he wonders if he should suggest taking her temperature, or if she’s doing it just to show him she’s annoyed.  

Perhaps her ears bleed from the sound of his voice.  

That seems like something Nesta would say.  

“They’re Emerie’s. Why?”

“To make soup,” Cassian explains, rifling through the contents. There’s zucchini and summer squash. Onion, fresh parsley and carrots. Cabbage and lettuce. Fresh fruit. He can make a nice stew out of this.  

Nesta scoffs, “I don’t need soup.”  

She enters her room, shoving the door back behind her until it leaves only a crack.  

“You can leave now,” she yells. “I’m home like you wanted.”  

“Are you lying down?” He asks, crossing his arms sternly though she can’t see him.  

Nesta sighs loudly, “you’re annoying!”  

“Maybe if you got some rest, I’d be less annoying,” Cassian sings brightly.  

He can hear the soft sound of her voice. “Doubt.”  

Cassian shakes his head with a smirk. He opens his snapchat where The Rat Pack is the first on the list, but the group name has changed... to People I Tolerate.

That’s got to be Nesta.  

Cassian laughs under his breath and types. Can I use your vegetables? Making Nesta soup.

Emerie’s bitmoji pops up at the bottom, but the person who texts back first is not Emerie, but Gwyn.  

You’re at our house?

Cassian can almost hear her voice. Stern and cautious. He’s almost certain she doesn’t like him. Gwyn looks at him with even more disdain than Nesta when he's around. That stay away from my friend look.  

He sighs. Yes, Nesta’s sick.  

Gwyn’s quick to respond. I can come home early. I need to drop off a paper, but I can be there in 30.  

Cassian rolls his eyes and types, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of her.  

Nesta’s face pops up. I can take care of myself.  

“No, you can’t!” Cassian yells.  

“Yes, I can!” Nesta yells back, but then she starts coughing again and he can hear her groan in the other room. Cassian raises a brow at her door.  

I’m going to make soup. I’ll make enough for all of you, but can I use stuff from the fridge? I’ll replace it all.  

Emerie’s face pops up and then disappears quickly. He’s about ready to go to the store himself or at least next door to the House, but Emerie’s text appears.  

I have no objections to this.

Cassian smiles in relief, and he’s about to set down his phone when another notification appears. It’s Emerie again.  

And if you make good soup, you can stay indefinitely.  

Cassian sends a winking emoji. Nesta sends back the emoji with the straight mouth and eyes. Before he can frown at what that means, Cassian sees that the group name has changed... to Three’s Company.  

That’s got to be Gwyn.  

Stone cold, Emerie texts back.  

Cassian decides he’s going to ignore that for the moment and focus on the objective at hand.  

Soup.  

Cassian pulls out the vegetables and looks through the cupboards. Emerie, it seems, has all the good spices. He finds the broth packets stored in the back, and he pulls out some beef from the freezer. It’ll need to defrost but he can start the broth now, get the vegetables soft, and brown the beef later. It’ll take a couple of hours anyway.  

Occasionally, he hears a cough as he works. Then a sweet laugh... followed by a cough and a groan. Cassian feels bad for her he does, but he can’t help but find the whole situation amusing. She should be resting and yet she seems to be wide awake.  

Nesta doesn’t come out of her room though. It’s as if he’s not even there, and he takes that time to look over her shared apartment. There are three doors, each with a letter at the front. The N is blue, the E, green, and the G, pink. He doesn’t know how it’s possible to have a living room that looks like all three, but somehow it works. It’s studious and bright. Colorful, but subdued. There are way too many throw pillows and books scattered everywhere, but there’s also a TV with a fireplace under it. He can just imagine Nesta laughing at scary movies. Some slasher fic she’ll watch like she’s taking notes.  

He can imagine Nesta everywhere, in fact.  

This is where she eats. Where she sits. Where she studies. This is where she trips over shoes if they’re not neatly lined up and where she complains about dirty dishes. This is where she cooks... if she does cook. Cassian doesn’t know.  

Maybe he’ll get to find out one day.  

Once the water starts boiling and the meat is in the microwave to defrost, Cassian goes to check how Rudolph is doing.  

He knocks on her door lightly, pushing it open. “Nesta?”  

Cassian’s never seen her room before, say for when she sits by the window with her curtains wide open, and just like then, it seems like an invasion of privacy to do so now. But Nesta’s plopped on top of her bed, tucked beneath her blue comforter, and she sets down her phone when he appears at the door.  

Her whole room is filled with blues and creams, and it looks exactly what he imagines Nesta’s room to look like. The large calendar, an agenda on the desk, bookshelf after bookshelf lining her walls. There are also things he doesn’t know of her yet. Pictures and posters and a.... stuffed lobster? Cassian holds it up.

“Would you stop looking around?” Nesta groans. She has her arm resting over her eyes, and he wonders if it’s because she doesn’t want to see him looking or if she feels that bad that the light is bothering her.

She should be getting some rest, he thinks.  

“Where did you get a stuffed lobster?”

Nesta coughs out her response.

The sound makes Cassian grimace, his chest ache with need, but he doesn’t rush over like he wants to. This is her house, her room... and this is Nesta who doesn’t like to be coddled by anyone.

“It’s a heat pack,” she says at last, after she catches her breath.

“A heat pack?” Cassian looks to the soft red claws that dangle. He’s never seen anything so soft be a heat pack.

“For cramps,” she says as if it’s obvious. Nesta must take his silence to mean ignorance for she lifts onto her elbows, raising a judgmental brow. “Please tell me you know what periods are or am I am going to have to go back to teaching you biology?”

“No,” Cassian draws out, “I know what periods are.”

Nesta mumbles a thank god and Cassian watches as she shifts under the covers, pulling them up until they hover just beneath her mouth.

“Are you cold?” Cassian asks, looking around her room. He spots his burgundy hoodie neatly folded and nearly yanks it from her desk. “Here. Wear my sweatshirt.”

“I just washed it,” Nesta whines, “I was going to give it back to you.”  

Cassian’s confused by the words, but he merely gestures for her to budge up. He’s thankful when she doesn’t argue. He rolls the sweatshirt over her head and Nesta fits her arms through the sleeves.  

“You didn’t have to wash it,” he says, watching as she pats down her hair. If only he could pull it up for her, comb his fingers through it. She could use his scrunchie too, if she wanted.

Nesta rolls her eyes, and he can only imagine what she thinks. He can practically hear the words. Of course, you wouldn’t care about clean clothes.

Her expressions practically give her away--everything she feels and thinks. Cassian wonders if he knows how open she is to the rest of the world. He wonders if she’d hate him if he told her this.

“It was going to smell like me,” she frowns.

Cassian wants to huff out a laugh. That is perfectly fine by him.  

“Stop laughing,” she whines, “I’m being serious.”  

“Yes, you’re being very serious.” He can’t help his smirk as he gazes up at her. He doesn’t even realize he’s on her bed, sitting to the side of her all bunched up in red. Her nose to the fabric. He almost wants to say she looks cute in his hoodie, all sick like that, but he knows she’ll only bite at him, remarking about how he has some weird fetish for sick girls. 

Cassian holds back a laugh as he hears the microwave ding. He needs to turn the meat around, so it doesn’t cook through, but Nesta grips his arm. His head whips towards her and... Nesta’s gazing up at him. Her eyes are a soft blue. Just like her room.  

“You’re warm,” she says. To explain herself, he thinks, and why she holds him as if she doesn't want him to move.   

Cassian’s lips raise lightly, and he places the back of his hand on her forehead. “You must be worse than you’re letting on if you're okay with me being in your bed.”  

Nesta scoffs, “you’re on it. Not in it. I’ll make that distinction very clear.”  

“You can’t be that sick then,” Cassian shrugs, smiling. “If you’re making everything sound like a tutoring session.”  

Her cheeks flush a bright pink and Cassian thinks she must have a fever. He wonders if he should search for an ice pack or make one, so she doesn’t get too hot.  

“Are you tired?” He asks, noting how slowly she blinks. “You did drink a lot of cough syrup.”

“I also took a NyQuil,” she says, closing her eyes.  

Cassian huffs, “remind me to teach you how read warning labels when your fully coherent.”  

He can hear the microwave ding again, and it reminds him of an alarm. Wake up! It seems to say. Being in Nesta’s room does feels like falling asleep. Rather dream-like and hazy. The microwave dings incessantly, but Cassian doesn’t want to wake up just yet. 

Her hand is still on his arm. It’s so much smaller than his and he wants to trace the skin there and see if it’s as soft as it looks. Cassian doesn’t dare look at her, in case she doesn’t just bang together two loud cymbals and tell him to get up and out and away. 

Cassian looks ahead instead, fixing his gaze on the stuffed lobster on her desk.  

“Nesta,” he starts and then swallows. He feels nervous, his hands clammy. “Nesta, I really think you and I... we’d be good together.”  

Cassian takes a breath, and he stares at the lobster as if it’s her face. “We’ve known each other for a long time now and I... I haven’t hid how I feel about you.” His heart is beating way too fast, and he doesn’t feel any freer from speaking the words, but Cassian decides it’s time to rip the Band-Aid off. “I thought maybe... we could try it out. See if you might be comfortable with it. If you might like me... too?”  

He doesn’t know why he words that like a question, but Nesta doesn’t say a word. Cassian looks back, hoping there’s no disgust in baby blue. He doesn’t know what he’d do if she just outright says he’s trash and she’ll never like him. 

But Nesta’s fast asleep.  

Cassian doesn’t bother sighing as he grips her limp hand, setting it on the blanket. He doesn’t bother being disappointed when he tucks the comforter around her. Her cheeks are a lobster-red and he rubs a thumb lightly there, wondering what it would be like to hold her face in his palm and kiss at her nose. Would she complain as he pecked her lips? You’ll get sick Cassian.  

Then we can stay in bed together, Nesta.  

No. Cassian’s not disappointed at all. 

He’ll tuck away his dreams where tomorrow lives. 

Today, he’ll stick to what he’s good at, so Cassian heads to the kitchen to make soup.

~

~ ~

~

~

Mwahahahaahah

~

In case you missed, here’s the stuffed lobster in the flesh.

~

Tagged: 

@arinbelle @my-fan-side @sophilightwood @nestaarcher0n @duskandstarlight @soitsgorgeous @swankii-art-teacher @lordof-bloodshed @thewhelk @daisy-in-danger @highqueenevankhell @lovelynesta @sirendeepity @champanheandluxxury @ladynestaarcheron @moodymelanist @teagoddess99 @spoilersteph @angelic-voice-1997 @bo0kmaster69 @drielecarla @generalnesta @cozycomfyliving08 @confusedfandomslut @dread3r @sv0430​

~

"Why am I still writing this fic?" I say angrily, as I angrily type it in my angry word document.

[lily-drake]

Death

Death was nothing new in Marinette’s life.  In fact it played a large role.  Her friends and city had died a hundred times over.  Her brother.  Her funny, smart, loving, dramatic brother had died at the hands of a mad man.  She didn’t think it was wrong for her to use the horse miraculous to visit her brother's grave.  It was officially five years after all.  He would be 20, he would have loved to plan out her 16th birthday this year.  She sat down and read Pride and Prejudice out loud, only a few tears falling as she glanced at the grave every so often.  She had also brought a bouquet of white lilies, statices, red carnations, and white daisies.  Soft grass laid over the dirt, the sun gleamed above, and sometimes when she would lean against the grave it was almost like she could feel him.

Dark storm clouds began to cloud the sky, and she knew she would have to leave soon, though she didn’t want to.  Dad would be upset if he caught her, though considering how many weeds she had to remove from the grave and how abandoned it looked, she doubted anyone had visited any time soon.  Suddenly the rain began to pour down and it felt like the earth shook.  She felt a great imbalance, but where, and how?  She touched both of her ears and she could feel her miraculous still there, Tikki even poked her head out from her bag with a look of fear.  A shiver ran down Marinette’s spine as rain came pouring down soaking everything in sight.  She looked around, and she kept spinning searching for something, anything that could have caused or been affected by the imbalance.  She waited there for many minutes just waiting, when she felt the dirt beneath her feet begin to shift a little.  She quickly moved away and watched as the dirt slowly moved and shifted.  She felt sick, because the dirt moving was directly where Jason was lying in eternal rest.  This couldn’t be right, this must be some mistake!  Her brother had died, she had seen the body, it haunted her nightmares for so many nights.  He’s been gone for five years!  This can’t be possible without some type of wish.

The grass began to move and shift away, and a fleshy mud covered hand raised from the ground causing a scream to rip from her lungs.  Her body sprung into action before her mind caught up to her beginning to help dig up her brother's grave, and when she saw the jet black hair covered in dirt and mud she knew that it was him.  She heaved him out from the hole and stared in shocked horror as he just sat there staring at her.  His eyes were the same blue she remembered, but they were so clouded.  Fear, confusion, and nothing shown in his eyes, like he wasn’t even truly there.  This must be a dream, it has to be, no, a nightmare.  Her brother shouldn’t be back, he died, she saw his limp body in dad’s hands, even if Alfred and bluebird tried to stop her.  But the imbalance was real, she could tell, and he was affected by it.

Slowly she raised her hand and hesitantly placed a hand on his cheek.  He leaned into her hand, though his eyes were still clouded and void.  He may be alive, but he wasn’t fully…alive.  She tackled her older brother into a hug and began sobbing onto him, but just sat there, head leaning against hers.  Pressing her ear against his chest she could hear his gentle heartbeat, and just for a moment everything seemed like it would be ok.  Then she felt a sharp prick in her neck and the world faded to black.

________

Marinette awoke to darkness.  She tried to sit up and felt her hands held behind her back being held together by something cold and thick.  Memories flooded back into her mind and she snapped into awareness and looked around.  It was dark, though there was a small light coming from a window far above where she could not ever reach.  The walls seemed to be made of thick stones and there was a heavy iron door a few feet in front of her.  Jason wasn’t there though, he wasn’t in the room, she didn’t understand.  Suddenly the door opened and she looked up and saw her mother’s green eyes.  Her panic grew again, how did she get here, was she captured too?  She had visited her often in Paris.  She was very vague about her job, and she knew it was probably sketchy, but could it be bad enough to be captured?

“Marinette, My Darling.  I apologize for your treatment, I did not realize that you were part of this.”

Talia rushed towards her daughter and unlocked the chains.  She was pulled into a tight hug that Marinette quickly returned.  After a few moments she pulled away but held her shoulders gently.

“I must show you something, come.”

Talia quickly stood and helped her daughter to her feet and walked swiftly through the calls of Nanda Parabat.

“What is mom?”

Talia smiled at that, she had always loved when her daughter called her that.

“It’s a surprise, My Flower.”

A few more twists though hallways and they stopped in front of a thick wooden door.

“I want you to meet someone.”

The door was pushed open and there sat a small baby in a crip with dark black hair, tanned skin, and dark green eyes.  Marinette gasped and covered her mouth,

“Meet your brother, Damian.”

Marinette slowly walked over and stared at Damian through the top of the crib.  He silently watched and studied her without making a sound.

“He’s about 3 months old.”

Talia said, smiling happily as she watched her daughter run her fingers through Damian’s small tresses of hair.  With a snap of her finger one of her shadows stepped next to her.

“Bring Jason.”

And with that order they were gone returning a few minutes later with a boy who was alive physically, but was mentally gone.  She could fix that though, it would be the last resort if all else failed, but she could fix it.  Marinette looked up when she heard Jason’s footsteps and her bright smile fell slightly into a small sad one.

“Jay-Jay.”

She whispered softly as she took slow steps towards the boy.  She quickly ran and hugged him again.  He no longer smelled like mud and he wasn’t wearing his suit, and he was….he was alive again!  Tears fell down her cheeks, because she missed him so much.

________

Marinette stayed with her mom in what she learned was Nanda Parabat.  She trained with Jason, but he was catatonic, just going through the motions blankly.  It worried her, especially as she watched her mother grow more anxious.  She cared for her little brother, and wondered if her dad knew, or if he would even care.  She often looked at Paris news for when she needed to go for Akuma attacks, but if her host parents even realized she was gone.  They hadn’t, nor had any of her “friends” apparently as they hadn’t sent her a single thing from the weeks she’s been gone.

Marinette knew that Nada Parabat wasn’t a good place, knew that the people were bad, knew that her grandfather was the head of it.  He didn’t seem to care who she was, he just thought she was some nurse for Damian, and she was thankful for that.  She knew that the Lazarus Pits were here, what they did, how they were made, how her grandfather used them for selfish purposes.  She didn’t do anything though, she was mad at her father for sending her away, mad that he adopted a bee kid only a year after he sent her away, mad that he never talked to her, mad that Dick never fought for her or looked for her, mad that Jason was forced to wake up and climb his way out of his grave only to be practically brain dead, mad that her classmates believed lies over her, mad that her host parents believed them and treated her like dirt or an invisible object meant to seen and not heard, mad that Chat Noir would leave her during battles because she didn’t return his affections, and mad that no one cared that she was gone!  So she trained as hard as she could, made sure that she perfected everything her mother threw at her.  Took care of her family and made sure they knew how thankful she was for them and loved them.  Then when she finally got a text from someone it was insults for being a horrible person and hurting Lila when she hadn’t been there for weeks!

She threw her phone at the wall and the crack echoed around the room.  Her breathing was harsh and ragged and then the tears she had been holding back finally fell.  Sobs wracked her body as she bit her lip to keep silent.  She tried to take in deep shuddering breaths, but it was no use and the sobs came out.  Her knees felt weak and she crumpled to the ground.  The door burst open and she saw her mom there knife in hand looking around the room with swift deadly eyes.  When she didn’t see any visible threats she kneeled in front of her daughter and looked directly into her eyes.  Eyes a storming blue that flooded with tears and made her heart ache and her want to murder whoever made her precious daughter look so broken.

“My Flower, what’s wrong?”

“N-nobody cares ab-about me!  No one cares that I’m g-gone.  Everyb-body hates me, and I’m so tired of it!  I’ll n-never be enough for an-anybody and I’m t-trying so h-hard to do wh-what everyone needs or exp-ects me to be!”

Marinette stuttered out between sobs.  Talia glared at that and felt anger at Bruce.  She thought that he at least checked in with her every once in a while.  She had guessed wrong then.  She pulled her daughter into a hug and let her cry against her shoulder.

“Shh, shh.  It’s okay.  You are perfect the way you are Marinette.  You don’t have to prove anything to me.  You’re such a good sister, you train so hard, and you have so many amazing skills and talents.  You are enough, don’t let anyone say anything different.”

Marinette gripped onto her mom and they both just sat there in silence as Marinette finally just cried.  After who knows how long Marinette gently pushed away and looked her mom directly in the eyes with complete seriousness said,

“I want you to help me fake my death.  If everyone wants to pretend I’m gone or wants me to disappear, then fine.  I will.  I don’t want to be seen anymore.”

Talia stared at her daughter in shock for a moment then gave her a small smile.

“It will be done my dear, you will be free.”

“Thank you mom.”

Taglist:

@queenz-z @aespades @fandomsaremylifeline @stainedglassm @toodaloo-kangaroo @prettylittlebutterflie @trippingovermyfeet @liquid-luck-00 @unoriginalmess @buginetye @miraculouslydumb @laurcad123

[citrinesparkles]

cat.

jason todd, eventually x gender neutral reader. 1,388 words. notes: this is part one of i don't even know how many and i cannot believe how wildly out of hand this got. this was a 500 word idea and it's gonna be at least three parts someone help (thanks to @angelz-dust for being so patient with me and encouraging on this!!! would never have made it out of the drafts without you <3) warnings: danger to kids, mention of a couple arguing, animal illness (spoiler alert: it'll be fine i Promise), a little (lot) different than my usual edit: part two here!

"let me be perfectly clear: if you even think about showing back up here, i will know, and i will make your life a living hell until i finally put you out of your misery. understood?"

"yes! yeah man i get it. understood."

"then i'd get going, if i were you." the man scrambled to his feet and bolted off across the playground, leaving jason to shout after him. "and warn any buddies you might have, too!"

he picked up the discarded knife and pocketed it. he then turned around slowly, hands visibly empty in a careful attempt not to scare the two kids behind him- well, careful not to make it worse, anyway. they, understandably, seemed a little shaken already.

"are you both alright?" he asked softly, slouching just a little to seem as harmless as possible.

probably would have been easier if they hadn't just watched him threaten someone.

the older kid- probably fifteen, if jason had to place a bet- nodded silently before glancing back at the little girl he was still hovering in front of protectively, who was just... staring.

she couldn't have been older than six.

"jazz?" the boy asked, voice tight. "are you hurt?"

he was ignored. "are you superman?"

the question, innocent and earnest and a little timid, made jason laugh. "not quite, kiddo."

she tilted her head like a curious puppy, furrowing her brow. "why are you wearing a jacket?"

jason glanced up at the boy, who seemed comforted by her mini interrogation. good.

talking was a good sign, too, so jason crouched down to meet her at eye level.

"because it gets cold out here!" he said, raising his hands up with a small wiggle of his fingers. "gloves, too."

"well, duh," jazz said with a giggle- a win, jason thought. "no fingerprints."

he nodded. "also helpful."

"and the hat to hide your face!" she said proudly, stepping forward a little to point at his helmet.

"wow, you've got the whole thing figured out, huh?"

"mhm! my friend ricky loves batman and his friends. he talks about batman and nightwing and spoiler and robin and red robin and red hood and batgirl all the time! they hide their faces like you, ricky thinks it's because of bad guys."

"they're kinda cool, huh?"

"nightwing's my favorite," she said firmly, as though it was something she had considered at great length and was fully prepared to defend.

"not red hood?" jason smacked a hand to his chest in mock hurt, shifting back dramatically. "i'm crushed, truly."

"no, ricky says red hood used to be an alien, but then got bored and now he annoys batman for fun instead. that sounds mean."

...well, okay, maybe he did annoy the big guy for fun a little. "that's an interesting theory, all right."

"ricky's got all kinds of theories. he thinks batman's a robot-" jason snorted- "and that nightwing was like pinochle."

"you mean pinocchio," the boy corrected quietly. "pinochle's what gramma plays."

"pinocchio!" she exlaimed, with a "ch" sound in the middle that made jason smile. "a doll that got turned human. that's how he does all the flips and stuff, he's got magic."

"hm, ricky seems like an interesting guy," jason said thoughtfully, making a big show of rubbing the chin of his helmet. "what do y-"

he was cut off by a loud, insistent meow, and jazz gasping even louder before taking off to the bushes.

"w- hey, don't rush off like that!" he said, shooting up off the ground as the boy sighed.

"there's this cat that she's been taking care of," he explained quietly. "the thing's got attitude for days but i think it's sick or something. jasmine's been bringing it little bits of tuna and chicken, but it's not like we can get it to a vet."

jason hummed. "why do you think it's sick?"

"it's thin, with its eyes all watery and sunk."

"might just be malnourished," he muttered.

"she's been trying to find it a home, y'know."

there was a wink-wink-nudge-nudge quality to the kid's voice that did not go unnoticed.

on one hand, it was good to hear something other than fear from him, but on the other... "what part of the tactical armor makes you think i'm an option?"

"the part where you just stuck around to check on us instead of running after that guy."

okay. maybe the quiet thing hadn't been so bad. the cocky 'amateur psychologist' thing was a little grating.

"you the real red hood?" the kid asked suddenly, shaking jason from his internal grumbling.

"what do you think?"

"i think you just saved our lives, and i wanna know who i'm thanking."

jason turned to him with a flourish. "red hood, baby saver extraordinaire. at your service."

"baby- dude, i'm seventeen!"

okay, so he would have lost his bet. "noted. still a baby, trust me."

"what are you under there, twenty something? whatever, grandpa."

jason chuckled, turning back to watch jasmine pet a small cat under one of the yellow lights littering the park. "you did well, looking out for her with that guy. you got a name?"

he scoffed. "would've been better if i'd kicked him between the legs right when he opened his mouth, instead of letting him get started on the whole 'what're you kids doing out so late?' bit," he muttered darkly, pausing for a moment before answering. "my name's jordan."

"well, jordan, what are you guys doing out so late?"

"mom works nights, and the neighbors were fighting. it was loud enough to wake jazz up, and it wasn't the kind of thing she needed to hear. i figured a trip to see her cat would be less awful than hearing them call each other things i wouldn't even call my friends." the breeze picked up, rustling the trees and catching on jason's jacket. "and then the asshole with the knife decided to make a bad night worse."

"is jazz your sister?"

"yeah, she's a good kid," jordan said, fond and warm. "sorry about the whole ricky thing, though. he's obsessed with those vigilante conspiracy videos and tells her all about them at school."

"no, no, it's fine. i can't wait to tell wing about his new origin story, he'll love that."

jasmine suddenly came bounding back towards them, grabbing their hands and yanking them to follow her. "c'mon, you need to meet cat!"

"you call it cat?"

jordan bristled subtly. "is there a problem with that, red?"

"no, no, it's an appropriate name. just making sure." jason waved his spare hand at his head. "helmet makes me hear things sometimes."

jordan opened his mouth, but his sister plowed right over whatever he was going to say, pulling on jason's hand again. "cat, meet... what's your name?"

"red hood."

"you can't be red hood!" she whirled around, indignantly putting her hands on her hips. "there's already a red hood in gotham. besides, you're not even wearing a hood, so it doesn't fit anyway."

jason turned his head to jordan, who was smiling- a good sign, but probably a bad omen for whatever he was about to say. "she's right, man. it's not a hood."

"tough crowd," jason muttered. "uh... then you can call me, uh-"

"bucket!" jasmine suggested happily, tapping his helmet. "because this looks like a bucket."

if there was one thing vigilantism had taught him, it was that sometimes you actually do need to pick your battles. this...

this was not worth fighting.

"sure, fine, whatever. hi, cat, i'm red bucket." he turned away from the kids- both of whom looked entirely too happy about the whole 'bucket' thing, he thought- and crouched down to finally look at the cat.

it did look a little sick, actually.

it was gray, and thin, and-

and now it was headbutting his knee like it was trying to push him over.

"cat likes you!" jazz cheered.

"sure does," jordan said pointedly. "isn't that interesting?"

jason opened his mouth, but his snarky comment died in his throat when the cat settled down right in front of him and blinked slowly up at him with a sweet tilt to its head.

...shit.

just- shit.

he sighed, standing up and looking back to jordan and his stupid, entirely-too-pleased-with-himself grin. "so, jazz," jason grumbled reluctantly, "where does cat live?"

[velvetcloxds]

BABIES| D.H.

Pairing: Derek x fem!Reader

Word count: 1479 words

Warning: none, just fluff, not my best to be honest

Summary: Reader and her husband babysit Jackson and Ethan's baby and discuss having another little human of their own when their college daughter shows up with some bad news.

Point of view: Derek's point of view.

"Pass me a diaper?" She commands in a rush and I pinch the bridge of my nose before sliding a clean diaper over the table. She catches it with one hand and holds the baby down with the other, scrunching up her nose while she replaces the current diaper.

"Why did we agree to this?" I ask her as she holds the dirty diaper out for me to get rid of. I force down a gag before taking it from her and quickly throwing it in the trash, shoving the door of the cupboard with my leg to close it. She laughs softly.

"Because Jackson and Ethan needed a break," She tells me and I squirt another gallop of soap onto my hands, moving quickly to scrub the idea of the smell from my skin, "And we've done this before, so we're supposed to be good at it," She adds as an afterthought and I turn around to see her pulling a baby-grow onto little Aiden. He giggles and Y/n smiles instantly, the sight making my heart melt.

"I'm pretty sure Hadley never had to be changed," I inform her, putting the diaper cream and wipes into the baby-bag. She scoffs, picking Aiden up from the table and resting him against her chest.

"By you," She raises her brow, "Big bad Derek Hale refused to come anywhere near a dirty diaper," She says and although her lips tilt into a frown, the sparkle in her eyes gives away that she's not serious.

"Well, I can see why," I retort with a scoff, pointing down at the trashcan, "How can something that awful come out of that little man?" I ask, sitting down on the table beside her. She smiles sweetly.

"I don't know," She laughs as her she bops her knee slowly to calm Aiden as he mumbles nonsense into her shoulder, "But I've never been happier that Hads is in college," She states with wide eyes, holding onto Aiden's head as she gets up from the chair.

"Really?" I jump up from the table to follow her, "Because I've been thinking about maybe having another one," She stops, turning around slowly to see me.

"Funny," Is all she says as she sways from side to side slowly.

"I'm serious," I step forward to move a hand over Aiden's little head, "I haven't seen you this happy in a long time. Besides..." I start, moving my hand to her cheek where I slide her hair away with my thumb, "We make very beautiful babies," I inform her and she giggles.

"We've made one very beautiful baby and she's amazing," She moves Aiden onto her hip and places her other hand onto mine, "She's also more than enough for us to handle," She says with a soft smile looking down at Aiden when he starts sobbing softly and her side. She wants to say something but stops when there's a knock at the door.

"I'll get it," I say with a sigh. She leans forward to kiss me quickly before walking up the stairs to Hadley's old room where we've placed Aiden's travel crib. I pull a hand through my hair as I reach for the door, sliding it open to see who’s out there. "Hadley?" I ask shocked and she smiles brightly.

"Dad," She mumbles as she steps closer to hug me, her arms folding around my waist as she leans into my shoulder, "I missed you," She says softly as I place my hand on her hair to move us into the loft and close the door.

"We've missed you too," I tell her as she pulls away, her eyes looking around the room, probably searching for Y/n, "Mom is upstairs with the baby," I explain and she raises a brow. I smile. "We're babysitting for Jackson and Ethan," I clarify and she nods, not saying anything while she walks to the couch, sinking into the pillows with a frown, "Is something wrong?" I ask, picking up on the sudden jump in her heartbeat. She looks down at her hands, not answering me, so I walk over towards her, sitting down as well. "Did something happen?" I question and she takes a deep breath.

"Promise you won't hate me?" She asks softly, her fingers fiddling with the stitching of her shirt. I sigh, folding my hands over hers.

"I'm your dad, Hads, I could never hate you," I tell her and she looks up at me, "But I need to know what's going on so that I can help you," She nods.

"I failed one of my classes," She informs me slowly and I let out a sigh of relief.

"Is that all?" I breathe and she frowns, looking at me with wide eyes, "Bloody hell, Hadley I thought you killed someone," I explain and she smiles.

"What!" She shouts with a scoff, freeing one of her hands to softly slap my shoulder, "Really, Dad? Murder?" She questions through soft laughs and I join her.

"You're a Hale, honey. I never know what to expect," She continues laughing as I lean over to give her a side hug, kissing the top of her head as the vibration of her laughter dies down, "I'm sorry you failed you class," I tell her, sitting back against the couch. She shrugs.

"It's a hard class, I just need to put in more work and I'll be fine. I just wanted to tell you before I got my semester results. I figured you'd be upset," She explains, pushing her hair behind her ear.

"I'm not," I tell her with a shrug and she smiles, "I'm just glad to see my little girl," I tell her and she shakes her head with a sigh.

"Come on, I'm not your little girl anymore."

"Oh, you're very much mistaken, you're always going to be my little girl," I tell her, mocking an evil smirk and she covers her face with her hand while smiling.

"Hadley?" A voice questions from behind and Hadley and I both turn around to see Y/n standing at the bottom of the stairs. She smiles excitedly as she walks over to the couch.

"Hi, mom," Hadley says sweetly as she stands up to hug Y/n. I smile up at the two of them, meeting Y/n's gaze over Hadley's shoulder and her face is filled with complete joy, a sight I wish I could see every day.

"What are you doing here? Did something happen?" She gasps, "Did you kill someone?" She asks softly and Hadley scoffs.

"No, Mom, really?" Hadley pulls away and looks between the two of us, "What is wrong with this family?" She asks with a look of disgust and both Y/n and I laugh, She smiles, shaking her head. "I'm going to get some food," She informs us as she walks to the kitchen.

"So, she didn't kill someone?" Y/n asks as she sits down next to me. She slips her hand into mine while I slide an arm around her shoulder.

"No, she just failed a class," I explain and she nods, turning in my hold and rest her head against my shoulder.

"You really want another one?" She asks, kissing my cheek while she waits for answer. I pull her closer.

"No," I tell her tilting my head back to see Hadley making herself some pancakes. I smile. "We're very lucky to have one little angel, the next one might take after my side of the family," I explain and she laughs, pulling her legs onto the couch and resting them over mine. She looks back as well, a smile dancing on her lips.

"She is pretty amazing, isn't she?" I look down at her.

"She gets it from her mom," I say making the softest little giggle fall from her lips.

"Oh yeah?" She hums, folding her hands around my cheeks and leaning closer.

"Hell yeah," I reply and she lifts herself up to kiss me, her lips moving slowly as I grip onto her waist.

"Eww. No. Children are present. No." Hadley groans from behind us and Y/n pulls away, laughing into the air.

"I love you," She mouths as she jumps up and heads for the kitchen where she kisses Hadley's forehead before pulling her to the stove to help with the pancakes. Just as I sink back into the couch a loud scream erupts from upstairs causing Y/n and I to sigh in union. I chuckle under my breath as I get up, grabbing the baby-bag in the process.

"I'll get it," I say and they both simply smile before going back to what they were doing. I can't help but smile, knowing that even though she came to give us some bad news, Hadley being here is all Y/n needs to be happy. And all I need to be happy is the smiles on my girls' faces.

Hi there, more of my work can be found on Wattpad under @mjoubertt. Mxx.

Masterlist 

[yandereteentitans]

Just the Beginning (Pt. 2)

Pt 1, Pt 3, Pt 4, Pt 5, Pt 6

Kori had begged you to let her drive. You didn’t really knew why, but you decided it wasn’t worth the fight. You had decided to look out the window the whole drive anyway. You forgot how much you preferred sitting in the passenger and staying in your own little world. When the finally got there, Kori seemed to get trigger happy and pressed on the breaks making you spring forward.

Your eyes widened, hands pressed against the headboard. You looked at her terrified, while she just smiled at you, confused why you were so scared.

“Who taught you how to drive????”

“My mom?” she said, confused, before beaming with pride thinking of her mom. You shook your head, disappointed.

“I’m never letting you drive again,” you said getting out of her car, dizzy.

Barry’s house was large, like most students. The light from inside were bright coming from inside. There was a beautiful pool out in the front, staircases leading to the second floor. There was hundreds of people there, loud music playing and people drinking. Kori was holding your arm, looking around, clearly overwhelmed.

“We can still go home,” you told Star, kind of pleading her to say yes.

“No it’s fine.”

You walked in, seeing Barry swinging on the chandler. It was weird to think that everyone was here, from popular to losers. You squished your way past multiple people, losing Kori in the process. You finally made it to kitchen, making your way to the refrigerator. You saw a can of Billy’s Beer, and decided fuck it. You grabbed one and popped it open. Suddenly someone bumped into you.

You looked only to recognize the person. It was the green kid from the funeral. You don’t think you got his name to be honest. He looked towards the day as a whole bunch of big guys walked into the kitchen. You recognized one of the men who went by mammoth.

“Move it, Little Lady.”

“Make me bitch,” you said, you finger, poking his chest. He huffed at you, look at the boy and then left with all his friends.

“We’ll be back Garfield.”

—————————————————————————-

“Thanks, Y/n.”

You just rose your shoulders and told him it was no big deal. He sat on the counter as you ate some cake. He was looking at you like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what to say. You kind of wanted to ask him about the green skin, but you thought it would be insensitive.

“How do you know my name?”

“We’ve shared classes since kindergarten,” he said, surprised you didn’t remember him.

“Oh, my bad.”

“It’s okay.”

There was silence for a moment, before Garfield spoke again, “Don’t you think it’s strange, weird even?”

You looked at him, before looking around, “What do you mean?”

“How everyone is acting. I mean, someone died and the body still hasn’t been found. People are acting like it didn’t happen.”

You looked down at your can. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were thinking the same thing. The fact that someone else was thinking the same thing as you made me think that maybe you weren’t as crazy as you had originally thought. “Well, since you mention it, yeah. Yeah, it is strange. I’ve been thinking that since school started.”

He swung his feet back and forth, “Do you think Jinx did it?”

You gasped before covering your mouth, “What- How could you say something like that?”

“Well, I mean, she WAS the last one to see him.”

Garfield did make a goof point. It was the most obvious choice of all the people in Riverdale. Jinx killing her brother?

“I don’t know. It just doesn’t make since on why she would do it.”

The door open and you both looked to see Kori looking annoyed with Barry on her shoulder.

“Come on, cutie. I can be the best you’ve ever h-”

Kori made eye contact with you, her eyes shinning as you groaned. She ran to you, pulling you into a hug. “Y/N!!!!!!!!” She gave you a puppy dog look, not looking towards Gar, “Can we go? I think I’ve had enough.” She clearly didn’t want to be here anymore. She was also drunk, her eyes cloudy and barely open.

“Trying to sleep with a drunk girl, Barry?”

Barry rolled his eyes and left without acknowledging you, quickly finding a new girl to try and get into their pants.

“Who’s that?” Kori asked, glaring at Gar, who looked around innocently.

“That’s Garfield,” You said wrapping Kori’s arm around your neck, “Sorry Gar, I think I have to take her home. It was nice talking to you”

“Yeah, same,” he said waving to you, frowning when you both left, “What a bitch.”

—————————————————————————-

You dragged her to the car. It was harder than usual with all the people. You even ran into Vic, but you quickly ended the conversation, saying you had to leave. He had been talking to a guy with black hair, slicked back. He looked familiar, before recognizing him as Bruce’s son. You would of loved to talk to him, since he would be such a great friend to have, with his privileges, but you had to get Kori out of there. She was starting to say things that were strange like ‘kiss me?’ and 'Oh my, I really wanna fuck somebody,’ which had caught some people’s attention.

When you finally got in the car you realized you didn’t know where Kori lived. You decided to just drive to your house and let her stay the night. Though when you were leaving you saw Jinx, looking around, being sneaky. You shook Kori, even slapping her, making her scream as she glared at you. You shushed her and pointed to Jinx who was now getting into the car with someone.

“What is she doing?”

“Hey, I recognize that car. It belongs to Rachel.”

You turned towards Kori, “Who the fuck is Rachel and how do you know her?”

“Oh, I meet her while I was looking for you outside. She was getting into her car and I asked her if she knew you. Super emo. Though I think Rachel told me she had given it to Jinx, since she got a new one and Jinx had told Rachel she liked the car.”

“Oh,” you looked out the window, staring at her car as Jinx stepped out and got into the back. Your phone suddenly rang and Kori picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Y/n?”

“No, this is Kori?”

“What are you doing on Y/n’s phone?”

You facepalmed as you grabbed the phone from Kori, making her gasp. She huffed and crossed her chest, not looking at you. She hated when people interrupted your alone time together. You were supposed to want to spend time with her, not talking to that big jock guy. In her opinion he kind of looked like a robot with his big figure and last she checked, robots weren’t attractive.

“Sorry, I was busy. I mean I still am. What do you want?”

“Are you still here?”

“Well, yeah?”

“Can we get a ride?”

“We?”

“Yeah, Gray, Gar, and I both got here with Mammoth, but he seems a little busy. Besides, less gas. You love helping the environment.”

You groaned, knowing you did like making people’s carbon foot print smaller. You agreed and told him to hurry up, because you were watching someone, who was looking awfully suspicious.

—————————————————————————-

When they finally got in your car, Barry had already been to Jinx’s car multiple times, talking to Jinx. Jinx finally was turning on her car and you decided to follow her. What you didn’t know is that you were being watched.

“What are you doing?” Vic asked as you slowly drove behind them.

“I’m following them. They’re up to something.”

“But-”

You glared at Vic from the mirror and he quickly shut up as you made a sharp turn, finally reaching-

“Jinx’s house?”

You parked in a hidden area, as to not get caught and you all got out. You saw Rachel  standing outside her car and you told them to stay there.

You walked over towards Rachel, who was on her phone, “Hello.”

She looked up to you, “Y/n?”

“Um, yeah… I was curious why you’re here?”

“I could ask the same thing.”

You smiled and looked towards the house. Rachel looked towards the rest of your group, “I was just curious what Jinx was doing. She’s been acting suspicious since the funeral.”

You agreed, as everyone joined you two. You all looked towards the house, knowing it was the only the beginning.