#i gathered poses for them and the twins and then had to try and include one that showed them pregnant for documentating when they got pregna

[cottageivyplays]

family photoshoot day <3

[sinisterexaggerator]

Weequay religion:

Here are some things I just learned today, and that I thought I would share! Some others are things I made up myself, which are labeled as such.

---

Sant was the Weequay religion. It was complex, with many deities. Among them were the moon-god Quay and the thunder god Am-Shak. Quay was their chief god: indeed, "Weequay" translated to "Follower of Quay". Each of their cities was centered around a shrine of black, polished stone, known as a thal, where the Weequay made offerings of food and valuables. Their religious code prohibited building thal off Sriluur, so off-world devotees were obligated to substitute animal sacrifices (usually large animals like banthas). A holiday devoted to Quay was the Month of Plenty.

Main deities: CANON/LEGENDS

Sri'quay was one of the deities of the Weequay religion. She was described as "the Mother," and created a number of children, including Luur, the great warrior.[1]

Sri'quay'va was one of the deities of the Weequay religion. He was described as "the Father," and upset the balance in the heavens by creating a number of worshippers. When Sri'quay, "the Mother," created her own children, Sri'quay'va because jealous, and created his own child, Quay'va, who had power over fire.[1]

Luur was one of the deities of the Weequay religion. He was believed to have been created by the goddess Sri'quay after Sri'quay'va upset the balance of heaven by creating a number of worshippers. Eventually, Luur was challenged by Quay'va, a creation of Sri'quay'va, and killed.[1]

Ruul was the life goddess and the twin sister of the warrior Luur. She helped to watch the prison of Quay'va.[1]

Uuru is the water goddess. The bandigo are said to be her servants who live and gather at a freshwater lake in Temptation Canyon.

Am-Shak was the thunder god of the Weequay religion, Sant. He was the brother of Quay and helped to watch over the prison of Quay'va.[1]

Quay'va was, according to Weequay mythology, a female warrior priestess who was created by the god Sri'quay'va and given power over fire. She killed the warrior Luur before being imprisoned by Quay.[1]

Raquor was a deity worshipped by Weequay and is named the “night god.” Raquor'daan took their name after it, as this God was supposed to take the form of a Dark Wolf when he traversed the wastes of the planet Sriluur.[2] Raquor was the brother of Quay and helped to watch over the prison of Quay'va.[1]

Quay was the moon god in the Weequay religion. He also served as the chief Weequay god, and shared his name with the moon of Sriluur, the Weequay homeworld, and was known for killing the warrior priestess Quay'va.[1] The name for the Weequay species means "follower of Quay.”  Weequay took to worshiping a child's toy which generated random answers to questions posed to it, simply on the grounds that it was small, round and white and bore a passing resemblance to the moon. They believed that Quay inhabited each sphere and was replying to their questions.

Main Deities (NOT CANON / MADE UP BY ME FOR PURPOSES OF FIC)

Rauk is the god of Death, misfortune, and bad luck. Hondo is born under his sign, but instead of it being an ill-omen, he is granted immunity from these dangers and is protected by the god.

Liiaon is the goddess of agriculture, and sacrifices are made in her honor to be blessed with a bountiful harvest. Weequay women also pray to her when they are trying to become pregnant/have their eggs fertilized, as to have many children is common among their kind as they are a clan based society and work together in tight-knit groups.

Lytenae is the goddess of wind, air, and wisdom. She is the favorite sister of the moon god Quay, as his priests often pray to her in turn, hoping to gain her favor and be blessed with the fundamental knowledge to answer all of life’s hard questions, such as its meaning and purpose.

Known Holidays:

The Month of Plenty was a Weequay holy season that honored the moon god Quay. Temples on the planet Sriluur which were dedicated to Quay had an open skylight in their roof, which allowed Weequay priests to track the moon's progress during the month.

Interesting tidbit to work into my “canon”:

The Thal where Weequay lay their offerings is black obsidian. Luur’s fatal wound poured BLACKENED BONEGLASS. To me, this proves that I am correct in saying Weequay blood is black, like oil.

[spacecadet-sims]

Casting Call for @spacecadet-sims' Double Shot At Love: Beguiling the Heirs

Atticus and Imogen Gryswald are world-renown philanthropists who, up until now, have spent their time leading fast-paced, free-wheeling lives without too much of a care for finding steadiness and security (outside of monetarily).

The elder Grywalds have had enough of the near-scandal filled escapades of their darling twins, however, and have offered them an ultimatum: find spouses or be disinherited.

But where's the fun in doing anything traditionally?

Full application below the cut:

I'm looking for 14 sims to fill this double shot at love challenge; 7 for Atticus and 7 for Imogen. This will be mostly story-based with some gameplay sprinkled throughout.

Please tag me @spacecadet-sims in the post as well as hashtag #scbth application for consideration. If I do not reblog your post within a day, please message me as I may not have seen your submission.

Applications may be submitted from now until July 8th at 11:59 pm. I'm making the application process long because I work a full-time job, and mother a toddler in most of my downtime. I have some time off work over the holiday, so I'd like to gather my submissions during that time. :)

Any gender/sexuality for either. They’re both queer.

Please include the following bio with your submission:

Name: Age: Gender: Pronouns: Sexuality: Occupation: Likes: Dislikes: Favorites (music, food, etc): Traits: Aspiration: Family/Important Friends/Pets?: Short Bio: Anything other misc. information?:

Please have your characters dressed in the following: 2 casual outfits 2 formal outfits 2 party outfits at least 1 of each other outfit type

I may require additional information if I select your submission for when I'm compiling my reference page, and thereafter the story as it unfolds. :)

Quick FAQs from my last attempt at this challenge:

Can we submit more than one sim? Yes. There's not a guarantee that both will be chosen, but please feel free to submit two unrelated sims, friends, siblings, exes, etc.

Do entries need to be wealthy? No! Potential admirers can be from any socioeconomic background. The Gryswalds do not worry for wealth, and would take care of a spouse who does.

Will this be scripted? Partially! I will be taking some liberties with conversations, personalities or reactions to things. I’ll do my best to not make the contestants too out of character. I won’t be controlling the contestants beyond instructing them to complete a task when it’s needed or to pose them. I won’t initiate intimacy unless the heirs whims include it. If they’re prompted into intimacy by contestants, especially on dates, I’ll likely let it happen.

Will this be NSFW? It could be! I'll try not to show anything too graphic, but there could be instances of intimacy.

How will eliminations be conducted? Eliminations will be based on relationship levels within the romance and friendship bars. If there’s a tie, it’ll go to whoever is more attracted to the heirs. If attraction is also a tie, I’ll either use WheelDecide or ask the audience. I’ll likely ask the audience for other reasons as well.

Limitations on CC? I’d prefer you kept away from alpha hair and eye CC (as I have a preference), but all other CC is fine and accepted. I have all packs, except the most recent couple and Batuu.

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 21

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

“Hi,” she greets him as he walks in the door, “I have something for you.”

She’s perched in the armchair, a smile that’s coy and playful curling the corners of her mouth. He gives her a curious smirk as he slips off his shoes and overcoat.

“Okay, like a gift?” he asks, crossing the room to plant a kiss on her lips, stealing another to enjoy the warm feeling of her mouth against his, which is chilled from the wintery air outside.

She shakes her head as he goes into the bedroom, changing into sweats and a T-shirt.

“You’re going to have to find it,” she calls from the other room, and he smiles to himself.

This is his favorite version of her; playful and flirtatious, quick to smile and laugh. He loves all aspects of her personality, but the rarity of this one makes it feel special. She almost never acts this way in front of anyone else, even her family; it feels like it’s just for him. He moves to stand at the threshold of the living room, leaning against the wall.

“Are you going to give me a hint?” he asks, and she considers the question with a thinking man pose.

“Well, I will tell you that right now you are very, very, cold,” she finally says.

His eyebrows lift in understanding and he walks back into the bedroom.

“Colder!” she calls, and he moves to the kitchen.

“Still cold.”

He walks to her desk.

“Mmm, slightly warmer.”

Next he steps close to the fireplace.

“A little warmer.”

He turns to look at her and narrows his eyes. He takes a step towards her.

“Oh, warmer.”

He stands directly in front of her chair.

“Getting hot,” she says with a playful lilt to her voice.

He drops to his knees between her legs.

“Very, very hot.”

He slips his fingers into the waistband of her pants.

“On fire,” She says with a smile.

He moves to pull her pants down and the tips of his fingers meet with something foreign near the top of her thigh. He quirks his head quizzically, fitting his whole hand into her pant leg and pulling out two long strips of cardstock. Airline tickets.

“How do you feel about a California Christmas?” she asks hopefully, and he looks at the tickets to see that the destination is San Diego, December 22nd.

He knew that she and her mother had been talking about flying out to see Bill for the holiday, but he’d assumed that he’d be left at home.

“What about Priscilla?” he asks, both touched that she wants to include him in her family’s celebration and nervous about meeting her older brother, who he understands will hate him by default.

“We can ask the Gunmen to look after her,��� she offers. “Unless you don’t want to come with me?”

He can tell by her tone that it’s not meant to be a way for him to opt out, but a test of his willingness to go. She clearly wants him to.

“Of course I want to go with you,” he replies, moving close and wrapping his arms around her waist. “I will admit to being a little worried about meeting your brother, and in his home, on his turf.”

She gives him a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry too much about Bill. Missy and Charlie are going, and Mom of course, and they love you. I know Tara will too. So even if he does pull the big brother card and give you a hard time, we have strength in numbers.”

“Is Byers going?” he asks hopefully, and she shakes her head. “Missy only just barely told Mom about him. It’s too soon for them.”

“But not for us?” he asks with the smile he reserves for the times when she alludes to the seriousness of their commitment.

She shakes her head slowly. “Not for us,” she says.

———

“Oh my god, I’m going to lose my mind, Mulder.”

She’s pacing around the apartment, putting things into different piles and open suitcases, her level of stress palpable in the air.

“Honey, stop for a second,” he says, grabbing her by the shoulders and dipping his head to meet her eye. “Take a deep breath,” he instructs, waiting as she does so. “We don’t need to leave for the airport for another twelve hours,” he says, keeping his own tone calm and level to counter hers, “we have plenty of time to pack.”

“It’s not just the packing, Mulder, this entire week was a nightmare. Everything I was hoping to accomplish before this trip was waylaid in one way or another; I missed my doctor’s appointment because of an emergency autopsy and forgot to reschedule it before they closed on Friday, Trudy was out sick half the week so I had to absorb her workload, the dry cleaners lost the dress I was going to bring for Christmas Eve mass, Priscilla is out of food AND litter, and I can’t find my earplugs for the plane,” she rattles off.

He pulls her into a hug, feeling her relax a bit with the contact.

“I will go pick up cat food, litter and earplugs,” he says, pulling away to look at her again, “and I’ll remind you to call the doctor tomorrow and reschedule. Wear that blue dress with the little flowers on it to mass, it looks beautiful on you. And try to breathe,” he finishes, giving her a sympathetic smile.

She forces a small smile onto her mouth and takes another deep breath. “Thank you,” she says quietly.

He pours her a big glass of wine before bundling himself up against the cold and venturing out into the December night.

———

She glances at Mulder intermittently, watching for signs of overwhelm. She knows that coming from a small, dysfunctional family means that he’s not accustomed to the type of gathering they are currently entrenched in; the entire Scully clan plus Tara’s parents and brother, and several members of their church. He seems to be faring okay, sipping a beer while talking sports with Charlie and a few others.

As nervous as he’d been about meeting Bill, he was well prepared. Scully directed him to speak highly of the Chargers while eviscerating the Patriots, and to go easy on the PDA. While they aren’t exactly best friends, Bill doesn’t seem to actively dislike him, and they are calling that a win.

She’d fully expected them to be set up in separate rooms given Bill’s traditional family values, but the number of people who needed to be housed made that impractical. They ended up relegated to the guest room and a single twin bed, though the enormous stack of pillows and blankets arranged on it suggest that one of them is expected to make a bed on the floor. They don’t do that, of course, instead sleeping nested together like spoons, Mulder continuously making half-hearted attempts at getting frisky while she laughs and slaps his hand away.

They are dressed for midnight mass on Christmas Eve, Scully in her flowered blue dress and Mulder in one of his typical weekday suits. They sit in the pew between Mom and Charlie, hands clasped chastely on the bench between them, suppressing giggles as he leans over to warn her that he is at risk of bursting into flame. He traces patterns on her palm with his index finger and she realizes at some point that they are letters. She concentrates, trying to understand his message, expecting it to be ‘I love you’ or something similarly sweet. When she puts together that he is spelling out ‘sex tonight?’ she looks over at him with wide eyes and then purses her lips together tightly to keep from laughing, doing her best to glare at him.

They file sleepily through the door at nearly 2am, quietly going off into their respective bedrooms and pull-out couches, hoping to get some rest before Christmas festivities in the morning. Scully quickly brushes her teeth and washes her face before darting to the bedroom, wriggling under the covers and pressing her back against Mulder, her cold toes brushing against his shins.

“Hm, you’re cold,” he says softly, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her closer.

“Thanks for going to mass,” she whispers back, “it meant a lot to my mom to have all of us there.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” he answers, his breath hot on her neck, “it’s nice to feel like a part of a real family.”

She threads her fingers through his where they rest on her belly, squeezing his hand. She tries to go to sleep, but his chest rising and falling against her back and the heat of his groin tucked against her backside are distracting. She wiggles a little bit against him.

“Hmmm,” he responds, thrusting his hips against her gently.

She swore that she was not going to have sex at her brother’s house. She knows that they can go without for the week they are here. But as she feels him grow hard against her ass, the throbbing between her legs suggests otherwise. No doubt it’s exacerbated by the forbidden nature of the situation; the door doesn’t have a lock and the house is quiet and still, though packed with enough ears that the risk of being heard is high. When his lips press against the back of her neck, she knows she’s done for.

She reaches behind herself to slip her hand into his pajama pants, stroking him firmly as he breathes hard into her ear, suppressing the groan that she knows would normally result from her touch. He pushes his pants down to his knees with one hand, then hurriedly brings hers down as well. She emits a small gasp when he slips inside her, simultaneously pushing his hand under her pajama top to squeeze her breast.

“Jesus fuck, you’re wet,” he whispers harshly in her ear, and she wants to make a joke about not taking the lord’s name in vain on his birthday but when he starts pumping in and out deliciously slowly, the thought slips from her mind.

If he moves too quickly the bed squeaks, so he keeps a languid pace as he pinches her nipples and kisses her neck, then slides his hand down to play with her clit in the tight space between her legs, which are still pinned together by the pajama pants around her knees. It feels incredible, and yet the necessary slowness and need to stay quiet make her wonder if she will be able to come. As if intuiting this, Mulder withdraws momentarily, sitting up and freeing her top leg from her pants, then lies back down and hitches her ankle behind his knee; her favorite position. He pulls the blanket back over them for warmth and modesty, though if anyone were to walk in now they’d have no chance of plausible deniability. With more room to move, he resumes his slow strokes and pairs them with hard and fast circles around her clit, murmuring little affirmations into her ear so softly she can barely hear them, much less anyone else. The vibration of his voice, the slip of his cock, the rough brush of his fingers, all come together in crescendo as she stiffens in his arms, turning to muffle her cries against his mouth as she comes. Now able to focus on his own release, he continues to pump slowly, pressing his face into her neck and letting out a low growl as she feels him throbbing inside her.

He slips quietly out of the bed, retrieving one of his dirty T shirts and swiping it between her legs before he pulls her pajama pants back into place. They get comfortable again, the sexual tension that had prevented them from relaxing before now dissipated.

He kisses her cheek softly, murmuring “Merry Christmas, Scully,” into her ear just before she drifts off to sleep.

In the morning, they sit around the lit tree, drinking coffee and eating pastries as they shake off sleep.

“Is your house haunted, Bill?” Charlie asks, and Bill gives him a doubtful look. “I swear I heard some weird noises, like creaking and whispering, I felt like I was in a horror movie,” Charlie defends.

Scully hides her face behind her coffee cup, glancing over to see Missy giving her a pointed look.

“I’m sure it was just the Christmas spirit,” Maggie says jovially. “Who wants to open presents?!”

[lightsupinthenorth]

It’s the little things

Summary: Instead of giving up on trying to convince Mobius that the TVA agents are variants during their conversation in episode 4, Loki comes up with a new tactic to help him see the light.

Excerpt: "He interrupts Mobius’ rant by slamming both his hands on the table and shouting, seemingly out of the blue: 'you’re left-handed!'"

Read on AO3

Loki’s just blurted out to Mobius that the TVA agents are all variants, in a last-ditch attempt at convincing him they’re on the same side. And also in the hope it will make him shut up about Sylvie and what he thinks Loki feels for her.

Loki goes on, expanding on the bomb he just dropped, talking about Mobius’ hypothetical past and family, hoping it will be enough to make the walls Mobius built around himself crumble.

Once Loki’s said his piece, Mobius keeps silent for a beat. Long enough for Loki to believe it might work out.

Mobius looks rattled. So much so that Loki thinks he actually got through to him.

However, Loki’s hopes are annihilated with two little words:

“Nice try”.

These aren’t the kind of words Loki would ever react well to. Because “nice try”, despite posing as praise, is always thrown at you to point out you failed. Coming from Mobius, it hurts worse than being stabbed. Because, it doesn’t only mean “you failed”. It also means “you lied so many times before that I think everything that comes out of your mouth is just another lie”. It means “I don’t trust you”.

And, really, can Loki blame Mobius for that? He’s been trying his hardest to appear ten steps ahead of everyone ever since he arrived at the TVA, and now his pride and arrogance have turned against him. It’s not the first time it’s happened, but there’s no getting used to it.

As cracks are slowly forming in Loki’s cold black heart, getting it closer and closer to shattering, Mobius starts going off about Loki and Sylvie again.

Loki’s failed on both counts, then: Mobius doesn’t believe him, and he still won’t stop ranting. And he had the nerves to complain about Loki’s yacking!

Loki considers giving up and letting Mobius do whatever he wants with him. However, as he watches Mobius reach for the TemPad with his dominant hand, he’s suddenly hit by a ridiculous – and probably bound to fail – idea. Loki might have a lot of flaws (not that he’d admit to many, if any, of them), but he’s nothing if not resourceful. He thought telling Mobius he was a variant was a last ditch-attempt, but he apparently has another dagger up his sleeve. Its blade is not very sharp, to the point it might as well be made of rubber. Still, Loki will try to make something out of it. He has to try.

He interrupts Mobius’ rant by slamming both his hands on the table and shouting, seemingly out of the blue: “you’re left-handed!”

*

Mobius stops mid-sentence, thrown out of his depth. He sighs, trying to convey exasperation instead of the surprise he really feels. He shouldn’t be surprised by anything Loki comes up with, at this point. It’s not his fault this mad man (god, whatever) still manages to be unpredictable once in a while.

“What’s that got to do with any of it?”

“I… It’s just… Hear me out. I know you don’t trust me, but think about it… really think about it. What the TVA told you about the agents being created by the Time-Keepers doesn’t make sense.”

“You lost me.”

Mobius has no idea how Loki had gone from him being left-handed to “the Time-Keepers didn’t create the TVA agents”. He’s going to need a step-by-step explanation of the process.

Loki briefly looks down, takes a deep breath and then goes back to looking at Mobius, as if bracing himself for something.

“You’re left-handed-“

Mobius opens his mouth to interrupt Loki, because, really, this is becoming ridiculous and they’re running in circles. Loki is probably just stalling for time in order to concoct a new ploy that will get him out of the hole he dug himself. He doesn’t have time to say any of this, though. Loki notices he’s not on board and cuts himself off to say:

“Please, let me get this out. Please.”

His hands are now joined in supplication and his bright blue eyes are desperate and suspiciously shiny. Mobius has seen a lot of Loki’s life, which has included its fair share of tears. That’s how he knows he couldn’t take it if Loki started crying.

So, instead of protesting as he first intended to, he just nods, allowing Loki to resume.

“Thank you. The ‘left-handed’ thing is only the first one on a list of things corroborating my main point. If the Time-Keepers had really created you, why would they have bothered to make you left-handed even though it’s not the norm? Why would you have a sweet-tooth? Why would you be weirdly fascinated by jetskis? When you look at the TVA and the way it’s organised, would you peg the Time-Keepers as beings who would care about giving their agents any type of particularities? The way I see it, if you had been created by them, you’d all be robots passing as human beings, not people with their own personalities… Besides, have your seen your nose? It’s obviously been broken before. Probably several times. Do you even remember that happening?”

Mobius instinctively raises a hand to his nose, tracing the jagged shape of it. He’s still trying to process everything Loki said, and it’s a lot.

His thoughts, as soon as he manages to gather them, jump to the possible reason why Loki’s noticed and remembered all these little things about him. It doesn’t mean Loki cares. Of course it doesn’t. he was probably only gathering intel. Besides, isn’t it absurd that Mobius would focus on this instead of focusing on the point Loki is making?

Because, he is making a point. Isn’t he?

No matter how little is known about the Time-Keepers, Mobius can admit it indeed seems out-of-character for them to have bothered with making their agents have quirks. And he indeed does not remember breaking his nose. Why would the Time-Keepers have made him look this way voluntarily? It serves no purpose.

“Say something, please.”

Mobius regains focus after having lost himself in his thoughts, and he stares into Loki’s eyes. He decides to indulge Loki and speaks, not because Loki asked nicely – after all, the god is more often than not very polite despite his numerous less than pleasant personality traits –, but because everything in his posture suggests he’s on the verge of falling apart:

“Okay… I can see where you’re coming from.”

The effect of his words are instantaneous: Loki’s entire body sags from the relief.

“I’m gonna need more proof than that before I really buy your theory, though.” Mobius says. He’s got to keep Loki on his toes. He can’t have him believe he’s got Mobius wrapped around his little finger (even though he does).

“Proof… well, Sylvie can give you proof. As I said she can access your memories and-“

“Nope, nope, nope. There ain’t no way I’m letting her anywhere near my head to access so-called memories that might not even exist.” Mobius might have admitted to himself that Loki had a point. However, he’s going to pretend there’s still a chance he’s entirely wrong about all this, because if he’s right it means Mobius’s whole life is a lie and Mobius doesn’t have the faintest idea of how he’d deal with that.

“Can’t you do it?” He adds. Apparently, he’s lost every ounce of self-preservation instinct he’s ever possessed. He’s expecting a barb from Loki, something along the lines of “So you do trust me, Mobius, I’m touched”.

He gets none of that. Loki has really decided to catch him off guard today.

Loki doesn’t say anything. He stares at Mobius as if he’d grown a second head. After barely two seconds, though, he snaps out of it, and answers calmly:

“I don’t know how. But… maybe I could learn.”

“Okay… I suppose you’ll need your demented alter-ego for that?”

Loki cringes, which is answer enough.

Mobius sighs. He does that far too often around Loki.

“Right, let’s go get her, then.”

Loki goes back to staring at him as if he’d grown a second head, then. Eyes wide, mouth agape. Mobius would find it funny if the situation wasn’t so dire.

“Don’t look at me like that. I don’t trust her. And I don’t trust you, either… But I can’t go on with my life as if you fuckers hadn’t just upended it with your crazy variant theory… So I guess I’ll take my chances.”

Mobius gets up and Loki imitates him. Mobius is already moving in the direction of the door when Loki stops him by grabbing his forearm. Mobius turns back toward him and arches an eyebrow in question.

“I know it won’t mean much to you but…  I have your back. I promise I won’t stab it… again. And I’ll make sure Sylvie doesn’t either.”

Mobius doesn’t trust Loki right now. He has no guarantee that he can. Most of Loki’s past suggests he cannot. But, stupidly, Mobius wants to. He really wants to trust him. It wouldn’t take a lot from Loki to make him. He won’t let it show, though. He’s stupid, but not this stupid.

“Right. Time will tell, I suppose.”

Loki is thoroughly unimpressed by Mobius’ time-related pun. It’s fine, though. Mobius is amused enough for the both of them. He smiles at Loki’s grumpy expression.

“Oh come on, it was funny!”

“A dagger through the heart would be funnier.”

Mobius rolls his eyes. Loki is such a drama-queen. It would be annoying if it wasn’t so endearing.  

“Come on, you buzzkill. Let’s go before someone decides to prune your evil twin sister for real.”

Loki groans. “I really hate you sometimes.”

“Sure, you keep telling yourself that.”

*

Loki will keep telling himself that: he’s a skilled liar, especially when it comes to lying to himself, and he cannot cope with the truth right now (the truth being that he’s far too fond of Mobius for his own good). He’ll deal with it after they deal with the giant pile of their current problems.

First step: go to Sylvie. Second step: hightail it out of here

[wrenhyperfixates]

Party Favors

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: Loki comes to the rescue when your nephews’ birthday party is on the brink of disaster. Warnings: some curse words and implied smut; fluff

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

“No! Don’t run there. It’s slippery.”

“Hang on, the bathroom’s right inside.”

“There’s going to be cake later, and you don’t want to get a tummy ache.”

Gosh, kids were tiring. You’d promised your sister, Katie, that you’d help out at your nephews’ birthday party. It was a sticky summer afternoon, but the heat did nothing to slow down the thirty-something kids running around the backyard. Between neighbors, classmates, and camp friends, the birthday boys had quite the guest list. Your sister and brother-in-law were both chaperoning the party, along with some other parents, but you were still outnumbered. Even if you weren’t, kids in large groups seem to have a penchant for trouble. It sure didn’t help that they were all at the age where chaos seemed like average fun.

Spotting the twins, you decided to take a few photos for your sister, who was busy running around to make sure everything was running smoothly. “Hey, Timmy. Hey, Tommy. How’re my favorite nephews today?” you said after snapping a few shots.

“But Auntie (y/n),” Timmy started, “we’re your only nephews.”

“Yeah, and we’re eight now,” Tommy continued for his brother. “You can’t trick us anymore.”

“We’re big boys now,” they finished together.

“I guess you are,” you replied, laughing. “Not too big for the bouncy house, I hope.”

“Of course not, Auntie. Bye!” they shouted, running towards the inflatable castle.

You walked over to the boys’ father, Lucas, and helped him check all the Slip 'N Slides and water balloon supplies. Just when you thought you might get through the day without any disasters, your sister came running up to you and Lucas.

“The clown just cancelled. There was a huge traffic jam and he can’t make it in time,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper.

“That’s all right,” Lucas said. “I’ve been saving some grade-A dad jokes for a situation like this.”

Both you and Katie groaned, eliciting a hurt scoff from her husband. And then a genius idea hit you.  

“Wait a minute, guys. I literally work with superheroes.”

A few years ago, you’d scored a position at Stark Industries and, though you’d never worked in the field, often helped the team from the lab. You’d even played a large role in designing Tony’s latest suit.

“Could you really get one of them to come? I mean, aren’t they busy?” your sister asked.

Truth be told, you weren’t sure that they were free, but they definitely owed you a favor. You’d saved their butts more times than you could count. It was, at very least, worth a try. You found the quietest place you could, then called Tony. Then Thor. Then Steve. Then Nat. None of them picked up. In a desperate last attempt, you phoned the Tower hoping someone would pick up. F.R.I.D.A.Y. answered and confirmed the presence of one Avenger in the Tower. You immediately asked her to put them on, not bothering to check who it was.

“Hi. I have an urgent matter and need to call in a favor.”

“And since when do I owe you one?” a smooth baritone came from the other end of the line.

Shit, you thought, of all the people in the Tower it had to be him. You and Loki got along well enough, but you weren’t friends, per se. The two of you constantly kept up a witty banter that was often flirtatious. The others teased you about it, and you were sure they placed bets on which one of you would ask the other out first. That, of course, was stupid, as Loki obviously did not feel that way about you. And how you felt? Well, it was best not to dwell on it.

“Oh, hi Loki. Sorry, you weren’t who I was expecting. Where’s everyone else?”

“Out at the movies. They should be back in half an hour, if your urgent matter can wait that long.” You let out a frustrated groan, which prompted him to say, “Well, that’s certainly not how I imagined getting that sound out of you.”

You were thankful he wasn’t there to see you blush. You didn’t know if you could wait that long for the rest of the Avengers. That didn’t even include the time it would take for them to actually arrive. You were about to hang up and tell Katie she better try to find a replacement clown or magician when you got your second great idea that afternoon.

“Loki,” you said, “I’m sending you my location. Just come over as fast as you can. I’ll explain when you get here.”

Then you hung up before he could respond. You raced to the front of the house to wait but were nervous that he wouldn’t show. You didn’t have long to worry, though, because he suddenly materialized, making you jump a little. Sometimes you forgot that he could teleport.

“Your savior is here,” he declared, striking a dramatic pose.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. My hero,” you said before explaining the situation to him.

“Well, I’m afraid I’m not very popular with the masses, (y/n). I think you’d be better off waiting for one of the others.”

You couldn’t help but notice how he tried to hide the sadness behind those words. Before he could leave, you protested, “Kids may love superheroes, but you know what they love even more? Magicians!”

He raised a skeptical eyebrow at that. “I’m not sure how you came to that conclusion. Besides, I don’t much appreciate being reduced to a mere magician.” He stopped for a second to tap his chin as if deep in thought, before continuing, “But, I suppose if you ask nicely, I might consider it.”

You made your best puppy dog eyes and stuck out your lower lip while giving him a pouty please. He considered you for a moment before responding.

“Very well,” he said. “I will save you this time. Just remember that you owe me. In fact, I’ve already got just the thing in mind.”

The devilish grin he gave you with that last part caused an involuntary shiver to run down your spine. He noticed but decided not to push his luck. Besides, he genuinely found it cute. In fact, he found everything about you cute. However, he refused to acknowledge the way his heart beat faster when you took his hand to lead him into the house. As you were walking, he conjured a classic magician outfit for himself. Though, he opted to have green accents instead of the traditional red. When you turned back around to face him, you couldn’t stop the girlish giggle that escaped your lips.

“Like what you see, darling?” he asked, striking a pose.

“Oh, fuck off.”

Despite your harsh response, you were blushing. As much as you were loath to admit it, he was rather dashing in the suit and top hat. You felt a sudden rush of nervousness as you introduced him to Katie and Lucas. You could see on their faces that they were trying to figure out where they knew Loki from. The second they connected the dots, their faces fell, but the reassuring smile you gave them must have worked since they started gathering the kids for the show. In all honesty, you hadn’t thought about their reaction to his being there. Or the other parents’ reaction, for that matter. It was hard to remember that the world was still clinging to the madman he’d been at the battle of New York when you knew he was just a witty prankster. Actually, he did a lot of good for the world. To you, he was just Loki.

You offered him a grateful smile as he stepped up in front of the kids and introduced himself as Loki the Magnificent. For as reluctant as he was in agreeing to this, he was putting on quite a show for them. It was a good thing, too, considering how brutally honest kids could be. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding when it became apparent how enraptured all the children were with his act. He even brought Timmy and Tommy onstage to assist him with a few tricks. You made sure to take tons of pictures, partly for your sister, but mainly to tease Loki with later.

Once he finished his last trick, the kids were seated at various tables and the cake was brought out. You wanted to run up to Loki and thank him, but you had to help distribute the cake. After double checking that all the kids got a slice, you brought a piece to Loki.

“Hey, you were great up there. And I guess you really saved my ass,” you said, mumbling the last part.

“It was my pleasure. Believe it or not, I had fun.”

He raised a bit of cake on his fork in a sort of salute to you. You fully expected him to leave once he finished eating, but, to your surprise, he stayed even after all the guests had gone. You two were cleaning up the junk in the backyard when you found yourself thanking him again.

“Really,” you said, “I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

“Well mortal, let this be a lesson on how superior I am and-”

His sentence was cut short by you dumping a bucket of water down his back. You were laughing so hard that you didn’t notice him get one of his own to return the favor. You shrieked in delight as he started hurling leftover water balloons at you. You ran away from him, but his aim was impeccable. Pretty soon, you were drenched. Though you were able to seize some ammunition of your own, you were no match for the god.

“Okay, okay,” you shouted to him, bent over, trying to catch your breath. “Truce.”

“No way,” he replied, running up behind you and grabbing you by the waist. Lifting you into the air and spinning, he said, “I’m claiming this as a victory!”

Your laughter was making such a racket that Katie came to see what was going on. Through giggles, you apologized to her, but she just waved you off. Seeing as you and Loki were both sopping wet, she thanked you for all your help and sent you home to dry off. You wondered why she didn’t let you stay there to do so, but the smirk on her face answered that. Rolling your eyes at her, you said goodbye and then shouted farewells to Lucas and your nephews, who were inside.

You and Loki made your way to your car in a peaceful silence. You offered him a ride, but he insisted on teleporting you home instead. Only problem was, he brought you straight to his bedroom, not your home. You gave him a quizzical look that demanded he explain himself.

“Don’t forget, little one. You owe me a favor.”

“Oh yeah? Bring it on.”

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

After their movie ended, the Avengers tried to return your calls. You never did pick up. They didn’t have to wonder why for long, though. The sounds coming from a certain bedroom answered that question perfectly.

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

Modern AU - Get the Mayor a Damn Dog

What started as me trying to explain to some friends why I’m giving Mayor Damien in a Modern AU a dog ran off and had a life of its own.

For context, Modern Damien (as I write it) is part of a failed ‘second cycle’ of the WKM events. When the barrier broke after the ‘Damien’ short, pieces of the characters trapped within were sent out to be ‘reborn’ in a modern world. This means that while Damien exists because Dark is made from pieces of the twins, William doesn’t since Wilford is him. But since there were enough differences, Damien (and Celine, don’t worry!) gets the peaceful life he deserved all along.

This, coincidently, is the first time Wilford has met Damien (in some time, he thinks). What better way to do so than by deciding Damien should get a dog?

Word Count: 2,259 (hence the read-more)

-

If there was one thing to know about the city’s mayor, it was that he wanted a dog.

(And a family, but one thing at a time.)

It came up in several interviews, and various photoshoots included him posing with dogs. Some well-meaning patrons tried to gift him a dog - in other words, drop a dog at his door without any warning - but Damien was fortunate enough to have interceded before anything actually happened. For Damien, this would be a massive decision, and he wanted the choice in when and how it happened. In fact, it was why he didn’t have a dog to this point. With how busy the City Hall was, he couldn’t justify having a dog cooped up in an apartment all day. It might be spacious, it’d be heartless, and why have a dog for the bragging rights? What about the pet’s own life?

It made the days lonely and quiet sometimes, but Damien knew it was for the best. At least it started a running gag of friends giving him dog themed items for birthdays and other occasions that were dotted around his home. One such afternoon had him dusting some items, only for a porcelain dog figure to be dislodged and fall to the ground.

“Whoa there! Don’t wanna lose this pretty thin’, eh?” Damien could only watch with a bewildered expression as a man with a pink moustache who wasn’t there before caught the figurine and neatly returned it to its place. “Looks as expensive as everythin’ else here. Musta cost a pretty penny!”

“Uh, I - hold on a moment. Where did you even come from?” Damien knew the front door was locked. The balcony would be an option for only the fool who would want to climb seven stories. The intruder mimicked Damien’s action of blankly looking around like he was also looking for an answer.

“Yer totally Mark’s friend, right?” 

“Answer my question. How did you get in here?” Damien put the duster down, glaring at the stranger. When nothing happened, he gave a slow sigh. “I don’t know. ‘Mark’ is a common name. I know a few people with that name. Can you give better clarification?” 

“Good answer! He’s a little shorter than you?” No reaction. The stranger pursed his lips, making his moustache wiggle in thought. “He makes videos fer th’ internet?” That, luckily, helped Damien put the pieces together.

“I’ve been friends with him for years, nearly since we were kids. So now can you please tell me who you are, how you got in here, and what any of this has to do with Mark?” 

“Wilford Warfstache, reporter extraordinaire at yer service!” Wilford gave a dramatic, swooping bow. “I actually went ta yer office, but ya weren’t there. Th’ security fella that found me informed that it’s actually Sunday an’ no one works in th’ buildin’ that day. So then I came here, an’ here ya are! Well done fer not working!” He finished with a dramatic ‘ta-dah’ pose, complete with jazz hands. But when Damien didn’t clap, Wilford’s pose deflated (complete with sound effects that came out of nowhere). “C’mon, Dames, I didn’t even get lost. That’s a good thing fer me.” Damien pressed two fingers against his temple as he tried to follow what was going on.

“I’m going to let most of that slide, but why did you call me ‘Dames’?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“For one, it’s a nickname that only my oldest friends use.”

“Aren’t we?” Damien opened his mouth to refute the bizarre question, only to notice the genuine confusion on the other’s face. One moment, Wilford acted like they were strangers, and the next gathered they were old friends in his mind? It was a rather worrying state of affairs, but it was better to not correct him just yet.

“So, Mr Warfstache, what brings you here?” Damien clasped his hands behind his back, steeling himself for some terrible news. He had heard rumours of Mark being linked with some malicious, shadowy entity. Was this related to that? What rabbit-hole had he been pulled into? Wilford appeared lost at the question, looking around until -

“Oh yeah! It’s ‘cause yer cooped up in here all th’ time. Ya need ta get out more, talk ta people, see more things! But most of all, ya need some sorta company, an’ - wait!” Damien had turned and stormed off to find his phone. “C’mon, Dames, y’ve been like this fer years! It’s not gonna kill ya ta live a little fer once.”

“And what do you know about that? You don’t know me as well as you think you do.” Damien held the phone up as a warning. “I will call the police if you keep this up.”

“Poppycock. I’m tryin’ ta help. What part of that aren’t ya seein’? Yer a man who’s obsessed with puttin’ himself last. Anythin’ that can pull yer attention from work for a split second is somethin’ ya don’t get involved with! How long are ya gonna keep not livin’ fer?”

“What I do is none of your damn business! I know the importance of my work!”

“An’ what other man in yer position would throw his life away? Any other Mayor would have a romantic partner or family who’d be there no matter what. They’d juggle everythin’ because that’s what people do! Yer not ‘sposed to be some machine who works an’ does nothin’ else!”

“But that is what I want to do! I promised to give this city my all. I’m not backing down on this.” Wilford’s hand twitched, like he was about to grab something, but he forced himself to stop. Instead, he took a heavy, slow breath. The moustache was peppered with short, black strands of hair.

“An’ neither am I. I’m not lettin’ ya throw yer life away again because yer a fuckin’ moron. No. We’re goin’. Now. Get yer fuckin’ coat.” 

“Are you listening to yourself right now? You break into my home through whatever illogical technique, complain about how I choose to live my life, and now you’re trying to bring me somewhere? You’d be mad to think I’d go anywhere with you!” Damien took a nervous step back as Wilford gave a resigned laugh.

“Mad, ya say? Wouldn’t be th’ first ta say that, an’ ya won’t be th’ last.” His head lowered at the confession. A few seconds passed before he returned his gaze to Damien with a sigh. Unlike before, it was a more sober look. “I’m not seein’ ya waste away ta be nothin’ again. All I ask is that ya come with me ta look at dogs. That’s all.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all. Ya always said ya wanted one an’ never got one ‘cause of work. But folks love dogs! Bet we could find a little one that’ll be great in an office an’ a small apartment. Like… Like one of these!” Wilford hurried to the couch to snatch up a cushion and excitedly point to one of the printed dogs. Whatever black was in the moustache had disappeared when he turned to Damien.

“You… Do realise that’s a Great Dane, yes? The complete opposite of what you just said.” 

“An’ that’s why I didn’t pick a dog! Yer th’ expert outta th’ two of us! C’mon!”

--

Despite the tense first meeting, Damien found Wilford to be a surprisingly pleasant companion. Eccentric, yet bubbly. He had a colourful view on the world, and it wasn’t long before Damien could see why Wilford was confused on knowing Damien. They got along like a house on fire, or like friends who were simply catching up after years apart. Wilford told him about his reporting job in a TV studio, various other quirky friends he had (though photographs were needed to remind Wilford of names), and the connection between himself and Mark.

Time seemed to pass both too quickly and slowly by the time the pair arrived at the local pound. Damien had tried to talk Wilford out of this idea, but the other was indeed too stubborn to change his mind. The staff welcomed the pair in and allowed them to see the dogs that were looking for forever homes. Damien had to remind Wilford twice that a small dog was what he wanted.

(“But Dames! Look at her pudgy face!”

“Wilford, she’d need a garden as big as my entire apartment to run around in.”)

They eventually split up so Damien could walk around and see if there were any suitable candidates to bring home without running commentary from Wilford. So many dogs were lively and friendly, but far too energetic for an apartment life or would be better suited to homes with children. Despite coming to the realisation that this was the wasted trip he knew it would be, he let himself have the chance to enjoy meeting some dogs. He was reading the information on some spaniel puppies when he felt eyes on him. Damien lifted his gaze to the corridor to find he was alone. As he turned to determine where the feeling of being watched came from, he found a dog in the den directly behind him staring attentively in his direction like it was on guard. It was a corgi, and Damien guessed it was a tricolour: predominantly black with sharply defined tan markings around his shoulders, eyes and muzzle. Unlike most corgis Damien saw on Crufts, the fur was longer and fluffier.

“What’s got you on high alert, buddy?” Damien lifted the information clipboard to skim for a warning on a vicious temperament. To his relief, it was the opposite. The corgi was approximately two years old, had high stamina but was mainly calm and observant. True to the notes, the dog approached the perspex door, sitting in front of it as he watched Damien. “Or are you making sure I don’t cause trouble… Soldier? An unusual name.”

“He’s a stray,” one of the volunteers explained as they closed the storage door with the back of their foot, arms laden with a large sack of dog food. “He was found at the local army base after trying to herd some of the soldiers that were training, which is where we got the name from. It’s strange… He’s a purebred, yet there’s no chip, no alert of a missing dog anywhere in the state or in neighbouring states… Nothing. Anyone that wanted to adopt him couldn’t get him to come anywhere near them. Aside from any of us who bring him food, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Soldier get this close to anyone.”

“That is… Rather unusual for such a social breed,” Damien hummed in agreement. “I read up on them before when first checking what breeds might suit an apartment life, yet... I wouldn’t have expected to find one here.”

“It might be fate, Mister Mayor. It’s happened a few times here before. Why don’t you say hello?” Without waiting for an answer, the volunteer skirted around Damien. There was a little struggle with the weight of the sack, but they successfully opened the upper half of the door. For a moment, he considered refusing the offer, but decided otherwise. A hand was cautiously lowered to pet the dog on the top of the head. Instead, Soldier pulled back so he could sniff the hand like he had the final say in whether the interaction was allowed. Once satisfied, he bumped the top of his head against Damien’s hand.

“Oh my God. That’s the first time he’s let anyone pet him without a bribe of food,” whispered the intern. “This is like a Disney movie. You need to take him home with you. I don’t think you’re gonna find a better suited dog. Soldier is always watching and paying attention to what goes on. We have a kit that’d help you care for him, if that’s a worry. But you spend time with him and make the choice for yourself. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” The volunteer hurried off with the sack in their arms, leaving Damien alone. Once the coast was clear, Damien sighed and knelt down.

“This is all quite a rush, isn’t it? We’ve barely met and now I’m being told to bring you home. I’m sure you don’t want to be stuck with a boring man like me. I work in one room nearly all day, and I don’t have a garden. I’m sure you understand that I’m not the home you deserve.” Soldier cocked his head to the left as Damien spoke, responding with a low bark. “I’m not entirely sure whether that’s in agreement or disagreement, I’m afraid. I don’t speak dog. And I doubt you can speak human either.” To Damien’s surprise, Soldier gave another bark, before rising up and crossing his space to pick up a chewed-up teddy bear. Upon his return, he placed his front paws on the perspex to offer the bear to Damien.

“Is this for me? She’s a pretty little lady, isn’t she? Even if her dress is a little tattered.” Taking the toy, Damien once again attempted to pat Soldier’s head with the other hand. This time, Soldier accepted, allowing Damien to properly pet him.

This was how Wilford and the shelter volunteer found them several minutes. The volunteer was mid-brag about how they knew it was a match made in heaven, and Wilford was quick to agree.

“He’s a handsome little fella, huh? Ya look fairly smitten, Dames.” Wilford slapped Damien’s shoulder with a grin.

“I think I might look into the adoption process… But if I do, I’m changing his name. ‘Soldier’ doesn’t suit him. He deserves a name that’s more intelligent. I’m thinking… Barnum. It rather suits such a bright-eyed fellow, don’t you think?”

[femalechibiblogger]

5 Underrated Cartoons That Were Cancelled Too Soon

1. Clone High

Clone High is set in a high school in the fictional town of Exclamation, USA, that is secretly being run as an elaborate military experiment orchestrated by a government office called the Secret Board of Shadowy Figures. The school is entirely populated by the clones of famous historical figures that have been created and raised with the intent of having their various strengths and abilities harnessed by the United States military. The principal of the high school, Cinnamon J. Scudworth, has his own plans for the clones, and secretly tries to undermine the wishes of the Board (Scudworth wants to use the clones to create a clone-themed amusement park, dubbed "Cloney Island", a decidedly less evil intention than that of the Board). He is assisted by his robot butler/vice principal/dehumidifier, Mr. Butlertron (a parody of Mr. Belvedere), who is programmed to call everyone "Wesley" and speak in two distinct intonations.

The main protagonists of Clone High are the clones of Abraham Lincoln (referred to as "Abe"), Joan of Arc, and Mahatma Gandhi. Much of the plot of the show revolves around the attempts of Abe to woo the vain and promiscuous clone of Cleopatra, while being oblivious to the fact that his friend Joan of Arc is attracted to him. Meanwhile, John F. Kennedy's clone (referred to as "JFK"), a macho, narcissistic womanizer, is also attempting to win over Cleopatra and has a long-standing rivalry with Abe. Gandhi acts in many of the episodes as the comic relief. Also on a few occasions, the characters that we see learn most of "Life's Lessons" the hard way.

Why it was cancelled: An article in Maxim Magazine depicting Mahatma Gandhi being beaten up by a muscular man sparked outrage in India. Clone High was caught in a crossfire when citizens in the country conducted internet searches on the Maxim article but also found out about the show's Gandhi character on MTV's website. This sparked an outrage in India over the show's depiction of Gandhi. On January 30, 2003, the 55th anniversary of Mahatma Gandhi's assassination, approximately 150 protesters (including members of parliament) gathered in New Delhi and vowed to fast in response to Clone High. Tom Freston, the head of Viacom (owner of MTV), was visiting the network's India branch and was "trapped in the building", according to Miller. In 2014, he recalled that protestors "basically threatened that they'd revoke MTV's broadcasting license in India if they didn't take the show off the air". MTV offered a quick apology, stating that "Clone High was created and intended for an American audience", and "we recognize and respect that various cultures may view this programming differently, and we regret any offense taken by the content in the show". Miller would later recall that executives at MTV enjoyed the show, and asked for the duo to pitch a second season without Gandhi. Lord and Miller's two potential versions of a second season included one that made no mention of Gandhi's absence, and another that revealed that the character was, in fact, a clone of actor Gary Coleman all along, and the show continued as normal. "We pitched that, and it went up to the top at Viacom again and it got a big no," he remembered.

2. The Awesomes

The show follows a group of superheroes who step in and replace the members of a legendary but disbanding superhero team. Under new leadership, The Awesomes attempt to put themselves back together in the face of intense media and government skepticism.

Why it was cancelled: On December 17, 2015, Hulu canceled The Awesomes after three seasons and did not renew it for a fourth season due to low ratings. The Awesomes was the first time Michael Tavera composed music for an adult animated series.

3. Invader Zim

Zim dreams of greatness. Unfortunately, though, he's hopelessly inept as a space invader. Desperate to be rid of the annoying Zim, his planet's leaders send him on a mission to infiltrate Earth, providing him with leftover, cobbled-together equipment. To their consternation, Zim succeeds in setting up a base on Earth and infiltrating human culture, posing as a human child as he plots the planet's downfall. Only Zim's archnemesis, Dib, recognizes that Zim is an alien, and of course, nobody believes Dib's claims.

Why it was cancelled: On the subject of why Invader Zim was cancelled, creator of the show Jhonen Vasquez said, "I could go on and on with variations of the most fantastic reasons for why the show was cancelled, but in the end, even I couldn't give you the whole and accurate truth for why the show got pulled," he wrote in a lengthy post on his website in 2010, nearly eight years after the show wrapped. "The most likely culprits are simply ratings and the sheer expense of the show, which was monstrously expensive at the time, especially when compared to more modern, flash-based savings fests."Nearly nine years later in 2019, Vasquez was interviewed by Syfy and said:

I never point to any one particular thing [as the reason for why Invader Zim was cancelled. The show could've come out at any point in history and I don't think it would ever really be appropriate... I think there's always horrible things happening in the world and genuine comedy comes from horrible things. At the time, it just happened to be things like Columbine and 9/11 and then people freak out because they don't want to offend anyone's sensibilities. It's a justified response to a certain extent; there's people who have been affected and they don't want to be reminded of this awful stuff… I just think that it did not jive well with Nickelodeon's image.

In an interview with Syfy in 2018, Richard Horvitz, the voice of Zim, was questioned about why the show got cancelled; he responded:

There's been a lot of rumors that have abounded for years about why Invader Zim was canceled. People think it's the Bloody GIR episode, because there's a quick subliminal shot of GIR all bloodied, but that’s not it at all. Nickelodeon knew about that shot and they didn't seem to mind. But what [the cancellation really was] is this plain simple fact:��We had horrible ratings. There were two things that were going on in 2001. Our ratings were not doing well, our demographic at the time was not The Fairly OddParents demographic, which is what we premiered with, and we premiered to really, really good critical acclaim. But ratings-wise, the only real barometer [was the] target audience, 6 to 10 year olds, and I think that it was a little too much for that [demographic], and the parents also might have thought it was a little graphic for them. Our ratings never really got off the ground. One other thing that people often forget, is that the show premiered in March of 2001. By September of 2001, we had the horrible downing of the twin towers. Given the mood of the country at the time, I don't think people wanted to see shows that were about any kind of destruction or anything that had to do with someone trying to conquer the Earth.

4. The Oblongs

A clever comic parable of society's ills, "The Oblongs" depicts the warped world of a bizarre yet loving family of have-nots who live in a toxic valley and can't seem to beat the caste system of the beautiful people living high on the hill. The animated series is based on characters created by author Angus Oblong ("Creepy Susie and 13 Other Tragic Tales for Troubled Children").

Why it was cancelled: Could not find a specific answer. The WB network just decided to cancel it even though it had good ratings. 

5. Wander Over Yonder

The series follows Wander, a nomadic and overly-optimistic intergalactic traveller and his best friend and steed, Sylvia the Zbornak, as they travel from planet to planet helping people to have fun and live free, despite the continuing encroachment of Lord Hater, one of the most powerful villains in the galaxy, and his army of Watchdogs.

The show's first season is episodic; there are very few strong ties between episodes, and they can be viewed independently of each other. In the second season, however, a more sequential story is introduced; as Lord Dominator begins to conquer the galaxy, the show's tone becomes more serious and the focus moves from stopping the rather incompetent Lord Hater to stopping the extremely competent Lord Dominator. As a result, the episodes are more closely linked and there are several developments in the overarching plot.

Why it was cancelled: The creators of the show were not given a specific reason, even though they had plans for a third season.

[queenbirbs]

the open door | Ethan x MC

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC

Warnings: swearing, some brief mentions of corpses and body horror, spooks and possible spectres 

Word count: 7.7k

Premise: Bryce invites Sloane, Sienna, and Aurora on a tour of a haunted estate on the night before Halloween. What could go wrong?  

Notes: I’m super bummed that we didn’t get a Halloween-themed chapter for this book, especially since it’s my favorite holiday. Takes place post chapter 11, though I’ve played with the timeline a bit to include Halloween. Re-post because it fell out of the tag, as posts seem to want to do as of late. 

Taglist: @maurine07 @caseyvalentineramsey

 ------

“You are aware there’s no such thing as witches, right?” 

“Well, yeah,” Bryce scoffs. “Maybe. Besides, I said she was rumored to be a witch. That’s a whole different thing.”

“Oh, right, of course it is.” In the backseat, Aurora rolls her eyes. “Just tell that to all the people killed during the Salem witch trials due to mass hysteria.”

“Hey, now -- it’s not like she was killed for being a witch.”

“Right. She pulled a classic Rose for Emily,” Sloane mutters while Sienna makes a gagging noise.

“What?” Bryce asks. 

“It’s a short story by Faulkner.”

“Oh.” There’s a brief pause. Sloane wonders if he even knows who that is. Then: “Is he the dude that had a hard-on for the Civil War?”

“Yeah,” Aurora snorts. “Basically.” 

“Yeah, never read any of his stuff. I think I used SparkNotes for one of his books in undergrad.”

“Same,” Sloane admits, to which Bryce shoots her a look of faux-surprise. “Yeah, yeah, we all had to skate by sometimes.” 

“Well, well, well,” he crows. “Looks like the ‘next generation of medicine’ isn’t so high and mighty after all, huh?” 

“Wait, how did you--”

“Ramsey was four drinks deep at Donahue’s the other day, and one of the interns came up and bothered him about a possible spot on the team. Which meant we all overheard the twenty-minute spiel about what a great doctor you are.” He snickers as she puts a hand over her face and groans. “Yeah, it was real sweet. Real obvious, but sweet.”

She’s saved by the GPS on her phone, cutting through the music playing over the car speakers; Bryce takes the next exit as instructed. The off-ramp spits them out onto a two-lane county road.  Posted across from the solitary stop sign, the blue services sign offers nothing but blank, white squares. 

“There’s a bathroom, right?” Sienna asks. “Because I’m not seeing a gas station.”

“It’s a house, you guys,” Bryce scoffs, “not a cave.” 

“A haunted house,” she clarifies. 

“Well, I mean, I don’t think the toilets are haunted.”

For several miles, there’s nothing but sweeping woodlands and the occasional passing car. Long squiggles of tar decorate the asphalt, snaking across the empty, leaf-strewn road. The setting sun casts a golden hue over everything, spears of light cutting through the tree trunks. It would be a nice, evening drive if it weren’t for where they were headed. 

Forty minutes north of Boston lies the small, nondescript town of Angler. Even under the cover of dusk, Sloane can tell that it’s one of those towns. Pretty Tudors line the main street, their porches decorated with smiling scarecrows sitting on bales of hay; banners along the telephone poles advertise the annual apple festival. The bank and the post office and the dry cleaners are all tucked together in the refurbished general store. It’s the stereotypical, pleasant, all-American town. Which means that it’s the perfect place to hide a dark stain of history. 

Why Bryce signed up for such a thing and how he won the tickets is beyond her. When he asked them all to join him for a haunted house, Sloane expected the typical theme: some dingy warehouse refurbished enough to meet modern building codes, full of tight mazes and masked actors with chainsaws.

“Nah, guys, this is the real deal,” he gloated over lunch the previous afternoon. “Back in the 1800s, this woman -- uhh Margaret, or Maggie, I think, yeah Maggie Angler -- she was one of the Boston Brahmins, owned this estate out in the country, blah blah blah. No one knows a whole lot about her because she was a little weird and she kept to herself. At some point, this dude woos her and they get married. But then, a few years later, he dies. Neighbors drop by to offer casseroles or whatever, but she won’t answer the door, so they give up and leave her alone. A few months go by, and suddenly this dude from town goes missing. Then a year, and another goes missing. This continues for several years and--” 

“So, what, she’s some kind of black widow?” Elijah asked. 

“No, this isn’t one of those Marvel--” Bryce’s brow furrowed and then lifted, realization striking his handsome face. “--oh, heh, yeah, sorry. But yeah, sort of. It wasn’t until word got around that the latest dude was seen talking to Maggie at the store that people got suspicious of her. So, they gather up some people and storm the house, where they find a Satanic Bible and other spooky shit. But that’s not the only thing they find.”

They all glance around at each other, waiting to see who will encourage Bryce to break his silence and finish the damn story. “They also find... the missing dudes.”

“What, buried in the backyard?” Sloane asked, and frowned when Bryce shook his head. 

“No, not buried. She killed them and then kept them in the house. Supposedly, they were posed at the table or sitting on the couch, rotting away.”

 Sienna made a show of pushing her plate away. “That’s disgusting.”

“I know there’s a group of people in Indonesia that keep their dead relatives at home,” Aurora said, “but they’re preserved and cared for. This doesn’t sound like that.”

“Nope.” Elijah shook his head. “Definitely not the same thing.”

“What happened to the woman?” Sloane asked.

“No idea -- get this: they never found her.” Bryce lifted his eyebrows for dramatic effect. “But the story goes that she still haunts the place, searching for her lost lovers, and maybe… trying to get some new ones.”  

Jackie, who had been busy scrolling away on her phone through the tale, snorted into her salad. 

“And you want us to come with you to some evil witch’s house on the night before Halloween to go ghost hunting? I may not believe in any of this shit, but no fucking way.” 

“Yeah,” Elijah sighed, cringing at the crestfallen look on Bryce’s face. “Sorry dude, but I’ll pass. My idea of fun is a John Carpenter movie marathon, not a tour around Jane the Ripper’s house.” 

“Okay, understood.” With that, Bryce looked to the remaining three and turned on the charm, draping his arm across Sloane’s shoulders. “C’mon, ladies, whaddaya say? Hard to pass up the prospect of touring a bona fide haunted mansion with one of the most handsome men you know -- second only to Elijah here.”  

Tapping at her chin, Sienna nodded and grinned. “Sounds fun. I like scary things.” 

Aurora, on the other hand, shot him a skeptical look. “Are you going to shout at the air and act like you’re possessed, like I’ve seen that one ghost hunter do on TV? The one with the spiky hair?” she demanded to know. 

“Uhhh no to all of those things, but especially to the spiky hair.”  

“Okay, then,” she shrugged, “I’ll go.” 

Every eye at the table turned to Sloane; Bryce squeezed her shoulder in encouragement. 

“Alright,” she agreed. “It’d be fun to get spooked, I guess. I’m down.”

Which is how she comes to be in the passenger seat of Bryce’s car, leaning forward onto the dashboard as they take the final turn onto a hidden lane. A thick tunnel of trees swallows them up as they drive deeper into the woods. After several miles, there’s a break in the pines, and then: sprawled atop a hill, looming above them, is the house. Even if she hadn’t heard the backstory, Sloane feels like the place would still give her the creeps. With its filmy lace curtains and its tall windows glowing yellow in the approaching darkness, the house looks like it’s been pulled from an Edward Hopper painting. Worn pavers lead from the semi-circular driveway and up to the front porch. Framing either side of the steps, thin, brittle blades of tufted hairgrass shift in the wind. Two people turn from the front door and raise a hand in greeting.

Bryce kills the engine and twists around in his seat to grin at his compatriots. 

“You guys ready to get scaaaared?”

Sienna wraps her hands around Sloane’s seat and leans forward, her eyes wide as she stares out the windshield. 

“Why does it look like The Amityville Horror house?” 

“Is this a bad time to mention that the Blair Witch Project’s producers used this place as inspiration?”

“Yeah,” she hisses, “definitely a bad time.”

Shouldering open her door, Sloane lets in the cool October air in an attempt to corral their attention. It works; the rest of them pile out of the car with her and approach the couple. 

As the current owners of the property, Jack and Nancy Bell guide them through the main floor of the house, pointing out spots of reported activity. The interior is lovely -- one of those Sloane would see in a Pictagram post of a wedding venue, with all those carved banisters and original wainscoting. Her brother, a successful carpenter in the Twin Cities, would have a field day in here. Most of the furniture is original to the house, as well, and in surprisingly good condition.  

The only aspect setting the house apart from any other on the historical registry are the props. In the front hall, a bulletin board hosts an array of newspaper clippings. The earlier articles blame a serial killer, dubbed the ‘Butcher of Angler,’ for the mens’ disappearances. Then, starting on October 28th, 1892, the headlines change to the ‘Wicked Witch of Winthrope County.’ In the drawing room sits an Ouija board, surrounded by melted candles. A cauldron and a Satanic Bible share space on the kitchen counter; corked bottles of what look like cooking spices and herbs clutter the open cabinets. Mannequins lounge at the dining table or on the sofa, dressed in dusty clothes, their jaws slack, their painted eyes still and dull. Beside them, framed in cheap plastic, are the grainy photographs of the corpses as they were found. To Sloane, it all feels hokey, like a regular haunted house with the strobe lights turned off. 

There’s something else, though, something underneath the fine layer of dust and the creaking floorboards and the shrouded furniture. It skitters across her neck and down her back, making her shiver, which she discounts as a wayward draft in the old house. 

It’s the distinct feeling of being watched.  

“Aside from the big house, there’s a carriage house to the left there. We rent it out in the summer and fall for overnight stays.” Jack gestures to the east as they step out onto the back veranda, where, just beyond the slope of lawn, a smaller house sits with a solitary porch light glowing. “And back down the path there will lead you to the lake. When we bought the place, the deed stated that there was a cabin out near the state park line, but we’ve never been able to find evidence of it.”

“Maggie’s been seen down by the lake, too,” Nancy chimes in. “People say they see her there, inside the boathouse, or walking along the shore with her head down, as if she’s searching for something.” 

“We’ve got lanterns here if you want to use them as you go about the grounds, though you’re welcome to use your flashlights.” Jack nudges a neat row of antique lanterns with his sneaker. “For the optimal experience, though, we recommend turning off all the inside lights and using secondary light sources instead.” He chuckles when Sienna makes a throaty noise of dissent. 

The couple leads them back through the house and into the front hall to finish the tour. While Jack goes over the various rules, Nancy motions for Sloane to follow her out onto the front porch. 

“I didn’t want to say anything in front of your friends,” she starts off in a whisper, “but I wanted to talk to you about our son, Ben.”

For a fleeting moment, Sloane thinks that she’s going to get questioned about his bowel movements or a mysterious rash, that Bryce must have told them he was bringing along his doctor friends. “When he was seven, he nearly--” Nancy cuts herself off, pressing a hand to her heart, “--he drowned when we were at the beach in Florida. I did CPR until the EMTs got there, and they were able to resuscitate him, thank God.”

“I’m sorry,” Sloane murmurs, “that must’ve been awful.”

“It was. But I’m -- the reason I’m telling you all this is because, after that, Ben seems to be more… open. More open than the rest of us.”

“I’m sorry,” Sloane says again, though this time out of confusion, “but I don’t--”

With a huff, Nancy shakes her head and waves her hands. “No, no, I apologize. I must sound crazy. I just wanted to warn you that, due to what happened to you, you might see things or experience things that your friends can’t. That’s all, dear.” 

Sloane opens her mouth to question her further, but they’re interrupted by the rest of the gang filing out beside them. “We’ll be back at one a.m. to lock up behind you,” Nancy says as she follows her husband down to their car. 

With a cheery honk, the little Subaru rumbles down the winding driveway and disappears. The sun having set during the tour, the landscape before them is now draped with the heavy blanket of night. The moon peeks at them from just above the treetops, as if still deciding on whether or not to come out. The only lights are far-off, unmoving: porch lights of the houses back in town; cell towers with their red stars blinking lazily against the dark. A cold wind moves through the trees, rustling the leaves and scattering them across the front walk, the dried edges hissing along the brick. 

“Can you believe he said no alcohol?” Bryce breaks the silence with a whine. “I read about this fun séance thing you do with tequila shots and--” 

“No séances!” Sienna declares. “And definitely no tequila!” 

“Can we argue about this where it’s warmer?” Aurora suggests and steps back into the house. 

As she and Sienna wander off into the drawing room, Sloane wraps a hand around Bryce’s arm and pulls him back. 

“Did you tell her about me?”

His nose scrunches up to meet his furrowed brows. “Tell who about what?” 

“The-- Nancy, did you tell her about what happened to me? With… with the senator, and…” it’s embarrassing how much of a struggle it is to get the words out, even now, even after three weeks and two therapy appointments. 

His face falls from confusion to concern. Bryce reaches up and lays his hand over her own. 

“Slo, I didn’t tell them, I swear. I would never,” he promises. “Did she say something to you?”      

She loosens her hold, frustrated at herself that she even considered he would do such a thing. He’s one of her best friends, the man who handed over the reins to a cutting-edge surgery just to be by her side. 

“Yeah, no, listen: it’s fine,” she stumbles through a paltry reassurance. “She was probably trying to scare me, that’s all.” 

He gives her a quick once-over, lips twisting into a frown as he debates on whether or not to push. She bites back a breath of relief when he relents, his hand releasing hers.

“Okay,” he says, and nudges her into the house ahead of him. “C’mon. Between the two of us, I think we can convince them to turn off the lights.”

------

Although he puts up a good fight, Bryce loses on the no-lights front. 

Which is just as well, because by the time they reach the second floor, Sloane is glad for the light from the antique lamps. To be fair, nothing actually happens: no spooks, no spectres, and no signs from the former resident. Nothing she can point to with any amount of certainty. Whatever it is hovers out of reach, just on the tip of her tongue, but she can’t seem to give it a name. Maybe it lies -- like any good, scary movie -- in the setting. For as grand as the house is, time and dereliction have taken its fine features hostage. Thick, gray dust coats the wooden spindles and curled handrails of the antique staircase. The corridors are tight, the shadows gathering in the space where the lights can’t seem to reach. Small curls of peeling wallpaper look like fingers reaching out from the wall, backlit by the sconces. The cloying scent of wood rot and mold fills the air, like a pile of papers left to curl and yellow with age. The rooms are small, cluttered with furniture and trinkets and artwork. 

Sloane stares at such a portrait in the master bedroom, where a couple stares down at her from above the fireplace. The man sits in a chair, the woman standing beside him with her hand on his shoulder. It would be any other family portrait, if it weren’t for the unsettling glaze over the man’s sunken eyes. 

“Bryce, please don’t-- aaaand he’s sitting on the bed.” 

“You do know that’s where they found her husband, right?” Sienna points out. “That’s why there’s a mannequin on it. And a picture of his dead body on the nightstand.”

“Maybe Maggie will see what a catch I am if I’m laid out for her. I’ve never met a woman over the age of sixty who could resist my charms.” Bryce waggles his eyebrows as he bounces once, then twice on the mattress before stretching out. “What’s up, bro?” he asks the mannequin beside him before doing a double-take. “Hey, it’s Annie!”

He snatches off the ugly wig and fake beard, and lo and behold, an old CPR dummy gapes up at them all. Sloane snorts and shakes her head. 

“Looks like the years haven’t been kind to her.”   

“Probably saddled with student loans just like the rest of us,” Aurora mutters as she wanders over to inspect the photograph. “Had to get a second job here.”

“Hey, that was a joke!” Bryce commends. “And a pretty good one at that.”

“I do jokes.”

“You so do not.” 

A muffled bang from somewhere in the house stops their banter. Everyone glances at each other, verifying that everyone in their group is indeed in the room. 

“What was that?” Sienna whispers. 

“Probably the pipes,” Aurora says. “It is an old house.” 

As if on cue, the lights flicker once, then switch off, sinking them into complete darkness. There’s a flurry of noise as everyone digs out their phones; the bedroom seems even creepier, now, under the white glow of their flashlights.  

“What do we do?” Sienna hisses, scurrying from the window to latch onto Aurora.  

“We could always search for the breaker,” she suggests. 

“Which would be where?”

“In the basement, most likely.”

“Um, no,” Sienna balks. “Hell no.”  

“Are you guys serious right now?” Bryce hops down from the bed and pokes his head out the open doorway. “This is so cool! Who wants to go downstairs with me and grab the Ouija board?”

“If you bring that thing near me, I will break it in half.”

He grimaces at Sienna’s threat. 

“You’re not really supposed to do that with them. It’ll keep the door open for the spirits to come in.”

“It’s a toy made by Hasbro,” Aurora scoffs. “It’s not going to ‘let in’ anything. And the planchette doesn’t actually move on its own. That’s due to the ideomotor effect.”

Moving over to the window, Sloane presses her temple against the pane’s edge and squints. Just past the eastern wing, she spots a faint halo of yellow light on the lawn. 

“Hey,” she raises her voice over their bickering. “It looks like the carriage house still has power.” 

“Great!” Sienna squeaks and pulls Aurora with her towards the door. “Let’s check it out. I… love carriage houses.” 

They push past Bryce and start back down the hall. Turning from the doorway, a coy smile spreads across his face, a single eyebrow lifting at his wordless request. 

“Oh, no.” Sloane shakes her head as she crosses the room. “I’m not staying up here so you can play Twenty Questions with a ghost.”

She ignores his good-natured grumbling and leads him to the staircase, where Aurora and Sienna are waiting on the landing. Aimed at the ground, their flashlights slice at the hand-carved walls; dustmotes dance in the twin beams, kicked up by their feet. The air feels heavier, mustier here, too, like breathing through wet wool. They tromp down the stairs and across the first floor to the kitchen. Being at the back of the group, Sloane can’t help but glance back now and again at the shadowed recesses, searching for the source of her uneasiness. That she finds nothing amiss doesn’t seem to curb her anxiety. 

The sensation wanes when she closes the door behind them, sealing up the house once more. 

“How is it warmer outside than in there?” Sienna asks as they start cutting across the lawn for the carriage house.  

Bryce zips up his coat and shrugs. “I’ve heard that ghosts tend to suck the energy out of a room, creating cold spots when they mani--”

“Please stop talking,” she begs. “At least until we’re somewhere with electricity that actually works.” 

“Aw, come on, you’ve got nothing to worry about. You’ve seen enough scary movies in your life to know that we’re safe if we travel together. Besides, everyone knows the funny guy goes first.”  

“I think that honor belongs to people of color, now, sorry.” Aurora chuckles when he spins around to wince at her. 

“Yeah, fair point.” 

Coated in fallen leaves, the ground crunches loud underneath their shoes, blocking out the night sounds as the four of them approach the smaller house. “But for real, I don’t think we have much to worry about from Maggie here. I mean, almost all ghost stories are about little white girls from Victorian times named Sally or Sarah or Kate.”

“That’s because of the spiritualism boom in the late nineteenth century,” Aurora answers.

Bryce sighs and quickly changes the subject, uninterested in a history lesson. 

Converted into a proper guest house sometime after the turn of the twentieth century, the carriage house lacks the severe decay of the main house. Though not as grand, the wallpaper here is intact, the dust not as heavy. It might just be the comforts of amenities such as central heating and electricity, but the inside of the house feels much more benign. As they complete a loop around the building, though, Sloane realizes that the feeling of being watched still remains, growing stronger when she passes or glances out one of the windows. With the glare of the lights, though, it’s hard to see much of anything past the panes. None of the others seem to be frightened -- or if they do, they keep quiet. The same can’t be said when Sienna flips the light on in the parlor.  

Toddler-size dolls lean against the walls, their porcelain hands cupped around their faces. Each wears a pretty, pastel dress trimmed in white lace, their hair falling down their backs in long, springy ringlets of dark brown, cherry red, and honey gold. Bryce makes a noise of disgust when he spins one around, its face blank: no eyes, no nose, no mouth. Time-out dolls, Sloane tells them, remembering her grandmother’s friend who owned several back in the early nineties -- though hers were all dressed as clowns. 

“People actually rent this place out? They pay money to stay here?” Sienna shudders. “I’d rather sleep in the other house, even with all the cobwebs and mannequins.”

“And the ghosts,” Bryce adds. 

“Ghosts don’t exist,” Aurora says. 

“Okay, Scully, that’s enough out of you.”

------

As the clock ticks closer to ten, Bryce votes to go check out the lake. Aurora and Sienna, however, vote to stay in the warm, well-lit kitchen. The plan is decided to split up and then meet back at the main house in time for midnight. 

“You know,” Bryce explains as he and Sloane make their way across the lawn, “because it’s the witching hour.”

“I thought it was three a.m.” 

“It is if you’re taking into account REM cycles and all that, but I’m not. All the legends I’ve read say…” he trails off, frowning as he jogs up the main house’s back steps. “Hey, you shut the door when we left, right?”

Her phone’s flashlight sweeps up the French doors; one of them is ajar, standing open several inches. She reaches for the handle and shuts it, listening for the snick of the latch.  

“I guess I didn’t pull it closed enough.”   

“Or,” he taunts as he grabs two of the lanterns from the porch, “something else opened it.” Ignoring her scoff, he pockets his phone and hands one of the lanterns to her. “These are nice. Do you think they’re original?”

“Bryce, they bought these from a Cracker Barrel. And besides, they’re battery-powered.” 

“Oh.” 

The back of the estate has been left to run wild. Overgrown swath rolls along the ground like dunes, snagging dead leaves between the dry blades. Thickets of barren shrubs creep out from the distant tree line. The path to the lake is marked by an old fence post, tied with a tattered ribbon. They make their way across the wide expanse of lawn, the trees ahead towering higher and higher the closer they get to the forest. Sloane can’t help but check over her shoulder. The house is just as they left it, though the moonlight is too weak to see if the door is still closed. 

Gravel crunches under their feet as they step onto the trail. The quiet night is broken by a ding from her phone. 

How goes the ghost hunting? 

She hooks the lantern in the crook of her arm and taps out her reply: Fun so far, lights went off by themselves. Very spooky 10/10

Ethan: What do fractions have to do with what you’re doing?

Sloane: Nvm 

Ethan: This isn’t 2002. You do have a full keyboard under your fingertips. 

Sloane: so?

Ethan: So there’s no excuse for using T9 acronyms.       

Sloane: Never thought I’d see the day you reprimand me for texting 

Ethan: I’ll spare you the lecture and let you get back to your witch hunt. Text me when you get home, please, so I know you returned safely. 

She hits send on the next message. Several seconds later, a red bubble appears beside her will do!, informing her that it refused to send. A quick glance at the top of the screen shows the one measly bar of service her phone is clinging onto. With a sigh, she tucks it away.   

“How’s Dr. Ramsey?” Bryce asks.

“Preparing a TEDtalk on prehistoric cell phone etiquette.” 

His nose scrunches up. “What?”

“Nothing,” she chuckles, exhaling through her mouth just to see her foggy breath. 

The light from the lanterns casts an eerie, yellow glow across the tree trunks and underbrush. Creaks and knocks echo up out of the dark -- branches smacking against each other as a cold wind sweeps through the area. The last vestiges of October skitter along the ground; the leaves almost sound like footsteps, dragging across the dirt behind them. The trail tightens as it winds down a small embankment and into a hollow. Their pace seems to pick up, though neither of them mention it. Sloane burrows into her scarf at the sudden dip in temperature.   

“How’s Keiki?” she asks, more so out of need to make conversation than actual curiosity.  

“Probably eating her way into a food coma with the pizza money I left for her, and beating all my high scores on Need for Speed.” He’s grinning as he says it, though, which Sloane finds encouraging. “I invited her to go with us, but she said no.” 

She doesn’t miss the crestfallen expression that crosses his face for a moment. 

“Trust me when I say this, because I speak from the experience of having a younger sibling, but she didn’t say no because she doesn’t like you or anything. It’s because she thinks you and your friends are dorks.” 

He sputters at the insult. “I’m not a dork!”

“You so totally are.”  

“Am not.” 

“Are too!” she argues. “Ethan thinks I’m bad, but you -- you come in on your days off and you like it.”

“That’s called dedication to the craft.” 

“That’s called being a dork.” 

What little she can see of the path ahead is more winding turns, more endless seas of bark and brushwood. But just when she thinks that they’ll never reach the end, that they’ll wind up stumbling upon Elly Kedward’s house -- there’s a small dot of light and then a break in the trees, where the path spits them out onto a rocky shore. The lake glints under their lanterns, the pearlescent gleam of the moon dancing on its surface. 

“Oh, hey, that was nice of them.”

Sloane’s gaze tracks along the shore and over to where he’s gestured. A solitary lantern sits in front of an old boathouse, illuminating the weathered cedar shake.  

“Too bad they can’t install lights along the path,” she mutters as they make their way to the structure. 

“What part of ‘bona fide haunted mansion’ did you not understand? This is the thrill of it!” 

Bryce shoulders open the door to a dim room with a half-sunken rowboat in the center. 

“Thrilling,” she drones, side-stepping his attempt to whack her arm. “Right.” 

They poke through the dirty raincoats and rusted tackle boxes. The wooden planks under their feet jostle and flex. Everything smells of wet and mold, the walls slick with grime. “I can think of several better places to haunt.” 

Bryce hums his agreement as he prods at a stack of old hunting magazines, the pages sealed together. Sloane steps over to look down at the boat, where minnows dart underneath the oars to escape her light. 

“Watch where you step,” she tells him as she crosses to the starboard side. “Some of these boards are really falling apa--”

The rest is lost to her shriek as the floor underneath her snaps. Her foot goes through the wood. She drops the lantern and scrambles to stay upright. The soggy planks slip from her grasp as she falls backwards, and then: water, the icy rush of it closing over her head. 

She fights back a gasp at the sudden cold. With her knee trapped in the joists, she can’t get her feet under her to kick to the surface. Her hands sweep out, flailing desperately. Something hard slams against her neck. She twists at the waist; the sunken lantern illuminates the long shadow of the boat. She digs her fingers into the wood. The cold saps at what strength she has, her muscles refusing to work as she tries to push herself out of the water. Her lungs ache; her heartbeat thuds inside her skull. Down in the murky depths below, a long shadow reaches towards her. Fingers, then hands seize her waist; her skin hits the cold air. Sloane blinks away the muddy haze that coats her eyes and sucks in a lungful of blessed oxygen. 

“Sloane!” Bryce shouts, as if he was expecting to pull out someone else. He ropes an arm around her back and helps her up out of the water. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of--” the rest of his words are lost to an undignified oof as Sloane wraps her arms around his neck. 

“Thanks.”

His hands come up to rest along her back, gently rubbing there to warm her frozen skin.

“I would say don’t mention it, but please do. The notoriety of me saving your life needs to make its way back to the hospital, so Rahul will finally go on a date with me.” 

She fights the urge to roll her eyes. 

“You would be concerned about getting a leg over while mine is still stuck.”

“Oh, whoops. Sorry, here, I’ll...” Sitting back on his heels, he steadies her against him and helps her shimmy out of the hole she’s made. Despite how saturated the planks are, her jeans are torn along her knee, where blood wells across several scratches. “Ouch,” he hisses. 

“Nothing a few bandages and a tetanus shot won’t fix,” she assures. Wobbling as she stands, Sloane limps over to the storage chest in the corner. The blanket she finds is tattered and smells of mold, but it’s better than braving the night’s chill in just her soaked sweater. “Alright, I want out of this place like yesterday.”

Bryce picks up his lantern and nods, following her out onto the shore and back onto the path. 

------

“And, I don’t know, he’s also distant with me sometimes, ya know? He’s hot, then he’s cold. He’ll flirt with me and agree to a date, but then he bails at the last second.”

“I get you.”

“That’s why I’m coming to you, oh wise one,” Bryce says with a grin. “Teach me your ways of dealing with difficult guys.”

Sloane laughs, the sound echoing through the quiet forest. Tucking the blanket tighter around her shoulders, she shakes her head. 

“Trust me, if I knew how to, I wouldn’t have such problems with my own.”

The cell phone in her pocket burns at the reminder of Ethan -- not that she could contact him if she wanted, given that the freezing water had zapped the last of its battery. 

“Yeah, but you could at least give me some pointers on how to wear him down.”

“Oh, my god, Bryce--”

“Okay, okay, not… ‘wear him down’... more, like, encouraging than that, I guess....” he trails off with a shrug. 

Humming as she thinks over her plan of attack, Sloane slows her pace to drop behind Bryce to skirt around a fallen tree -- until she can see it no more. “Fuck!” Bryce curses from in front of her, rattling the lantern as if abuse will bring it back to life. “Batteries must be dead. Let me…” There’s a rustling of clothes, a brief, hopeful inhale, then: “Fuck. Phone’s dead too. Must be the cold or something.” 

Sloane closes her eyes and opens them again, hoping that they will have miraculously adjusted to the dark -- but no such luck. With what little moonlight seeps through the canopy and the dusting of fog that’s rolled in, it’s hard to see farther than a few feet ahead. It will make this slow-going trek of theirs even slower. She scans the woods surrounding them and stops when she sees a pinprick of light back down the trail.

“I have an idea,” she says, “but you’re not going to like it.”

He does not, in fact, like her idea. But even he can’t argue against it. Besides, they’d only made it about a half-mile up the path, and the boathouse wasn’t that far back. 

Which is how Sloane comes to be sitting on the log, trying her best to ignore the darkness pressing in on her from all sides. If Aurora were here, she would be explaining that being afraid of the dark is just a concept carried over from early hominid days. Then again, if Aurora were here, she wouldn’t have had to send Bryce back for the other lantern, and they’d be back at the house by now. Sloane knows she should keep moving to stay warm, but she’s cold and wet and her knee is throbbing something awful. 

She’s uncertain of how much time passes before that silly bundle of nerves in her stomach morphs into the proper weight of worry. Bryce should be back by now. She knows he made it to the boathouse because the light through the trees is gone now. Her eyes have since adjusted to the night, which means it’s been at least thirty minutes. Maybe that lantern died, too, she reasons. Sloane listens for his familiar cursing, or his footsteps on the path -- but there’s nothing. The nighttime noises of the forest are gone: no animals, no birds, no wind. The stillness is nothing short of eerie, especially when she feels that now-familiar sensation of being watched.   

“Bryce?” she chances. 

From out of the black, she can hear someone walking down the path.  

“Bryce!” she shouts, struggling to her feet. “Sienna? Aurora? Is that you?” 

Whoever it is doesn’t respond. She starts down the trail towards them, cursing when she nearly trips over a rock. “Seriously, guys, I’m not in the mood--”

An awful sound echoes out of the dark, like a high-pitched whistle played over radio static. 

She freezes, pebbles and twigs skidding across the dirt at her sudden halt. Every hair on her body stands on-end, her muscles locked as adrenaline races through her. Sloane swallows and clenches her blanket tighter.  

The high-low tone of the whistle sounds again. Whatever’s out there is just beyond the reach of her vision. Sloane wheels around, her gaze darting across the shadows, as if she’ll be able to even see-- a light. It’s several hundred feet out in the forest, back in the direction of the house. It’s too far away to make out who’s holding it. It has to be Bryce, though -- playing a prank on her, as if she’d find this sort of thing funny in the state she’s in. 

She bites back a curse and hurries after him as best she can, keeping low to the ground in an effort to hide from whatever animal is out here with them. The trail becomes rougher, more overgrown as she trudges through the leaves and shoves away sticker bushes. Forced to waste precious time watching where she’s going, she glances up only to keep track of the light that grows closer every second. 

The whistle comes again -- louder, closer now. Whatever it is, it’s still following her. Sloane pushes through a thicket and stumbles into a clearing. Tucked between a small grove of pines in the center is a cabin. With the caved-in roof, sagging porch, and front steps that form nothing more than a woodpile, it’s obvious the place has long stood abandoned. Sitting on the porch and casting a glow into the open doorway is a lantern -- the same make as the others. Approaching the steps, she slowly leans up and snatches the lantern from the porch.  

“No fucking way,” she mutters to herself. “I don’t care if it is a bobcat out here, I’m not hiding in the Evil-Dead-looking-ass cabin.” 

The dark silhouettes of the trees rustle under the cold wind that blows through the glade. Carried with it is a different sound: voices, all slurred together, but forming one syllable. She steps away from the cabin and back towards the forest, straining to make it out. Her name, she realizes with relief. They’re calling her name.        

She sucks in a breath to yell back when movement catches her eye. Something dark curls away from the tree line, only to dart into the tall grass when she swings the lantern in its direction. Sloane squints at the underbrush it disappeared into, waiting for it to appear again. For a few, blessed moments, she thinks it’s run off, that it’s finally given up.   

Until a black shadow crawls out of the underbrush towards her, shrieking, braying like an animal in pain. It’s an ear-splitting cry, echoing across the clearing. Sloane tightens her grip on the lantern and bolts. Ducking back into the trees, she heads in a single direction, knowing that she’ll either hit the lake or the house -- of, if she runs far enough, the town. 

Shoving through low-hanging branches, she glances over her shoulder to see the shadow chasing her, peeling itself out of the shadows as it moves between the trees, somehow darker than the black surrounding them. Her foot hits a patch of wet leaves and she slips, skidding down the hillside and tumbling out onto a stretch of asphalt. She grits her teeth against the pain in her leg and crawls forward into the middle of the road. With no time for hesitating, she pushes to her feet and runs, hoping she’s picked the right direction. 

It wails again, in the trees to her left, scurrying across the hillside after her.   

“Fuck off!” she screams.

Another noise comes roaring out of the dark, drowning out her cry. Lights -- searing, blinding -- swing around the curve. Brakes squeal as the car swerves, narrowly missing her; glass shatters as Sloane staggers to the roadside, her lantern cracking as it hits the pavement and rolls off into the grass. The guard rail is like ice beneath her palm where she clutches it, using it to stay upright as her heart threatens to vacate her body through her throat. The hillside is drenched in red from the car’s tail lights. 

“Sloane!” 

Ethan -- it’s him, his car, he’s here, but he should be in Boston, shouldn’t he? He was when he texted her and that was only an hour ago so why is he here and how did he-- all of her panicked thoughts cease when he folds her into his arms and hugs her tight. The night around them is still, save for the purr of the engine and the soft dinging of the door ajar warning. 

“What the hell were you thinking, standing in the middle of the road like that?” he hisses, pulling her back to pin her down with his glare. “You could’ve-- I could’ve killed you.”

“You’re here,” she whispers. 

Her lips are numb from the cold and shock. She reaches up for the blanket, then realizes that she must’ve lost it somewhere along the way.

“Of course I’m here. You really need to stop scaring the hell out of me, you know that.” His brow furrows as he frowns, taking in the state of her. He slips off his own coat and bundles it around her. “Honey, you’re freezing. Let me--”

“We have to go,” she urges, remembering what’s waiting for her, out in the forest. Grabbing hold of his hand, she starts tugging him towards the car. “There’s -- in the woods, there was -- I don’t know, this thing, and it kept screaming, it was horrible--”

Ethan shushes her rambling and guides her into the car, buckling her seatbelt when her hands won’t stop shaking. She tucks her nose into the collar of his coat, breathing in the comforting scent of his cologne. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he backs the car up and turns back towards the estate. With one hand on the wheel, the other finds hers and holds tight. 

“Your friends called me when they couldn’t find you, wanted to know if I’d heard from you, in case you’d made it to somewhere with a working phone. I called you-- well, more than I’d care to admit, though it was obvious your phone was dead.” 

“How did you get here so fast?” she wonders aloud. 

“I got here around twelve-thirty, did a sweep of the woods. Around one I started driving around, hoping that I’d come across you in case you made it to the road.” He gives her a worried glance before returning to the road. “The others have been out with the sheriff’s office and the owners, searching the woods.” 

“But I… that doesn’t make any sense,” she tells him with a shake of her head. “It wasn’t even midnight when me and Bryce started back, and he was gone for twenty, maybe thirty minutes. And then I saw him-- well, not him, but at the time I thought it was him being an asshole-- and then that… thing chased after me and I got turned around, sure. But it couldn’t have been more than an hour.”

“Sloane, it’s nearly three in the morning.”

Her immediate reaction is to protest, but the concern in his tone and the clock on his dash render her mute. Which is for the best, she realizes later after pulling up to the house and seeing the driveway choked with cars: Bryce’s, the Bell’s, and several police cruisers. Modern floodlights tucked below the eaves turn the dark house into a bright beacon. Blue and red lights of the cruisers swirl across the lawn. As soon as they pull up, her friends race over to the car and wrap her into a hug. One of the cops takes her statement, ignoring Ethan’s insistence about getting her home and taking it over the phone instead. 

“Must’ve been a coyote,” the cop tells her after she’s finished. “We get a lot of reports of them out here, being so close to the state park.”

“A coyote,” Sloane repeats. 

“Well, sure,” he says with a shrug. “Unless you think it was something else?” 

She doesn’t have an answer for that. Having dealt with her fair share of wildlife coming down from the mountains and into her backyard growing up, she can’t remember ever hearing anything similar. Even her grandfather’s tales about the Wampus cat, her favorite spooky story as a kid, didn’t hold a candle to… to whatever was out there. 

After the cops leave and the Bells lock up, her friends pile into Bryce’s car for the ride home. Though not before Bryce shares with her his own experience with the mysterious shadow. However, he’d gotten a good look with the lantern. 

“It wasn’t an animal,” he whispers to her. “It was her. It was Maggie, I swear it.” 

Sloane didn’t know what to say to that. So she hadn’t said anything, just squeezed his hand and hugged him goodbye. Returning to Ethan’s car, she settled into the passenger seat, thankful for the change of clothes he had in the trunk -- and the first aid kit, of course.  

With the classical music floating out of the speakers and the warmth of his hand in hers again, it would’ve been easy for Sloane to close her eyes. She can’t help it, though, when they back out of the drive. She looks up to the long row of windows. It could be a trick of the headlights, but something watches them from around the lace curtains. As they start to pull away, it slinks back into the shadows of the house. 

------   

Author’s notes and what-have-yous: 

The inspiration for the Angler Estate is the abandoned Uplands Mansion in Baltimore, MD. If you like urbex stuff, I highly recommend looking up some videos of it on YouTube. It’s a gorgeous place, despite all the vandalism. The owners’ surname being Bell is a fun nod to the Bell Witch Cave, my state’s claim to supernatural fame. The mention of The Evil Dead cabin is another poke, since the 1981 original was filmed an hour away from where I live. 

The “watch where you step” line is pulled directly from Uncharted: Drake’s Fortune. 

[sml8180]

CiN Behind the Scenes ~ Ch 3: Infiltration

Original Upload Date: 9 September, 2020

Length on Google Docs: ~11 pages

Docs Word Count: 3,651

Reference Tally: 3

NOTICE: This chapter contained content featuring Janus’ father, who is Homophobic and Transphobic. As such, he misgenders and dead-names Janus throughout their conversation, and things do get physical between them at the end of their argument. I’ll be putting bold notices by any sections talking about this content, so that you can skip those sections if you so choose.

1) This was, obviously, a pretty long chapter. I think the average chapter length for this story was around 8 or so pages, with a few breaking 10 pages, and at least one hitting 12+.

        A) Fun Fact: This entire universe was originally going to be a 10-chapter idea and end at that. Obviously, I got really into it, considering Chaos is Normal on its own ended up 22 chapters.

2) You do not wanna know how much I looked into different types of hidden/wear-able cameras for this chapter. You really don’t. I did learn some really interesting stuff, though.

        A) The cameras Remy and Remus wear in this chapter are based on some stuff I found. Technically speaking, neither camera (nor any of the others I feature later in the story) are really out of the realm of possibility in the real world. Maybe a bit advanced, but they could be possible.

3) The team trying to get cameras going and clear, along with audio stuff is honestly fun to write. Similar segments pop up in other chapters, and it’s always amusing to me, for some reason.

4) “I was born first and you know it, Remus” is a line I forgot I wrote, but adore, honestly.

        A) My older brother and I have a 10-year gap in age, so I was literally winging every single sibling moment that goes down between the twins. Hopefully they mostly came out okay.

5) Apparently there’s still a typo in the original Doc that I managed to correct immediately before posing. Uh....

Dunno how I didn’t catch that going through before I got it into the Ao3 editor, but I did catch it before actually hitting Post on the chapter. So... At least there’s that?

6) I love writing Janus and Virgil being good friends/caring about one another. It’s just something I love.

7) Having Virgil and Janus get spotted by Remy and Remus (as well as by Logan, and Roman, via the camera feeds) is honestly something I originally didn’t really intend to put in. But, I felt like having these passing glimpses of the teens made things feel a little more connected when I went through and added it as an experiment, so I kept it in.

8) Giving Remy and Remus their various nicknames and codenames in this chapter was too fun.

        A) Calling Remy “Sandman” was something I really wanted to do at some point in the story, and the opportunity seamlessly presented itself here, so I couldn’t resist.

        B) Later in the chapter, Remus claims that members of the Venom Order (who all use a sort of codename, to protect their identities; hence why Virgil goes by Spider and Janus goes by Deceit) call him “Beetlejuice” literally came from the fact that while writing this chapter, I was listening to the “Beetlejuice” musical soundtrack a lot, and uh... Yeah, it kinda just happened from there. Opened up the perfect opportunity for a joke in a later chapter, too.

9) Logan having to divide their attention between the cameras, Remy and Remus’ audio, and having to listen to make sure Patton and Emile are alright is something I planned from the start of the story. I wanted this to happen at least once. Logan has been protective and even at times a bit paranoid over Patton’s safety for most of the boy’s life, and this is an example of them doing their best to make sure he’s safe, despite the fact they’re doing something extremely dangerous just upstairs.

10) I can’t help but headcanon that Janus almost always wears layers not just to help with dysphoria, but also because he fidgets with the top layer of his clothes when he gets nervous. As such, he has a lot of hoodies, jackets, and vests in his wardrobe.

        A) He also wears layers because he just likes how it looks. Yes, this is me projecting. I like layered looks, okay?

NOTICE: This is where I’m covering the conversation between Janus and his father. This section does describe Transphobia, abuse, and emotionally-distant “parenting” (if you can call anything Janus’ father does parenting at all). There will be a second notice once we are beyond that particular section, so simply scroll to that point if you don’t wish to read these next few points.

11) I wrote Janus’ father as being a very cold sort of parent. If he weren’t a Homophobic, Transphobic, all-around piece of shit, he’d still be a bad parent. He hardly gives a damn when his son does well, and only ever really responds if he feels Janus has done something wrong (like, y’know, existing, since Janus is trans, and Joseph refuses to see him as his son).

12) Joseph repeatedly misgenders and dead-names Janus throughout the conversation, and it was really hard to write. I had to check my work several times to make sure things were “correct”, and I didn’t have any slips that Joseph wouldn’t make.

        A) If any of you hated Joseph immediately once he opened his mouth, then I did my job. I wanted everyone to hate this asshole. I hated this asshole, and I created him. So, yeah, fuck Joseph “Viper” Prescott.

        B) Luckily, I didn’t need to write a ton of Joseph in this story (and likely won’t need to in future stories), because I really hated him from the start, in the “I created you to be awful, and god damn, you are awful” way.

13) Janus telling Joseph off by saying “I am your son! If you can’t see that, then you’re fucking blind, old man!” was a line I wanted to include some form of from the start of the chapter, and it went through a few different iterations before I finally decided I liked this one best.

        A) Also, Janus immediately realizing he went too far with that statement is intended to be a relatable moment (as we’ve probably all had that moment of, “I shouldn’t have said that”), but also intended to show that Janus knows how his father reacts to that kind of thing, and the resulting “Anxiety vs Might as well go all in” sort of conflict Janus has is there to hint that things really aren’t good at home, and it really has changed the way Janus tends to think and approach some situations.

14) Depicting the very quick emotional shifts with Joseph was another thing I had trouble with, but for a very different reason. I have ADHD (I don’t keep this secret, I’ve posted about it and make an effort to be open about the various ups and downs I deal with as a result), and it has a big impact on my writing style. It’s why I try to be descriptive (especially when it comes to places and character body language, expression, emotion, and clothing), since the details help me keep track of tone, location, and the like.

With Joseph, though, I had to throw some of that out the window. I try to keep emotional shifts for characters consistent, and at least hint to them coming up, to make it easier for myself (and other readers who might also have a hard time with sudden shifts and cues like that) to keep track of things. I couldn’t do that with Joseph. Because of how I wanted to portray him in this story (especially this chapter), I had to make things sudden. Hence the sudden and quick way he lashed out (though the inciting force is “clear”; he was angry concerning Janus’ comments), and the rapid shift to him once again being cold and stoic once he’d struck Janus and the teen was on the ground. It was hard to keep it draft-level quick, rather than going through and “refining” it.

NOTICE: We’re done talking about all the really bad stuff. There’s some talk of the aftermath, but all the really explicit things are out of the way, so it should be safe to continue.

15) Virgil is basically me at any gathering. Just, stick to the edges, people-watch, and silently panic if anyone approaches.

16) I think this is the closest Virgil gets to really flying off the handle in this story. I don’t think I ever have him get this close to going and physically fighting someone at any other point, and damn do I wish I had, honestly. Virgil is really protective of Janus, and seeing his friend (read: crush) in his current state sets him off. He’s still fuming when Janus gets his attention again and is clearly desperate to just get out of there, but he pulls himself together and helps Janus out, because he knows that going after Joseph won’t be the helpful thing in this situation.

17) Logan flexing their fingers before starting to really get to work once Remy patches them into the Order system is honestly something I have a habit of doing when I start writing, especially if it’s cold, since the joints in my hands tend to get stiff and lock up a little. Also, I really couldn’t resist the really obvious spy/hacker bit. The opportunity was right in front of me, and you all know by now I take the opportunities when they come.

18) I originally didn’t want to leave the chapter where it ended, since it was a pretty decent cliff-hanger and felt like an awkward stopping point at the time. That being said, I’m glad I did it. This and most of Chapter 4 were going to be one entity, but that would’ve ended up way longer (Chapter 4 ended up roughly 8 pages on its own), and it would’ve been a lot of fairly heavy content all in one go, so it was better broken up. It made me very glad for the little POV shifts throughout, because it gave me a clean place to cut the chapter apart and made it a little less awkward.

And, I think that’s about it for this one! This was a really long chapter (probably the longest I’d ever written as of when I wrote it), and it was full of stuff to help kick off future interactions in the story.

[soul-music-is-life]

Could you do Sam’s first Christmas season? Please ? Hope you and you’re family are safe

Happy Holidays.

Much love.

Stay safe everyone.

*****

The holidays weren’t perfect. It had been hellacious to try and convince two moody teenagers to dress up like their moms and baby brother, but Lily and Grace begrudgingly put on the red and white flannel outfits because they wanted their little brother to have good memories to look back on.

Emily had gone overboard with the decorations, as always. Alison had come to love the over-the-top antics throughout the years. Emily had been big on Christmas since she was a kid.

Her dad was often overseas, so any time they were able to celebrate they went all out for it. The holidays had always meant a lot to her. Alison had learned to appreciate her affinity for it. Her enthusiasm was infectious.

The house smelled like peppermint and holly. The aroma of cinnamon was in the air. Emily had decorated the living room with several different Santas, candy canes, twinkling lights, wreaths, and snowmen. The tree was fully trimmed. They’d done it as a family.

It emitted the spirit of the season. Lily and Grace loved the decorations.

They loved the matching clothes a little less.

“We look like illegitimate candy canes.” Lily walked into the living room tugging at the sleeves on her pajamas.

Grace was padding along behind her.

“Don’t let your mother hear that. She’ll smite you in the name of Christmas.” Alison moved an ornament from the tree, trying to make everything look symmetrical. She wanted it to be perfect.

Bad mouthing Christmas was a punishable offense in the DiLaurentis-Fields house. The girls knew better. Yet they let their dissatisfaction be known.

“We look so tacky.” Grace lifted her arms to observe the long-sleeved shirt.

“How could you allow this fashion faux pas, mom?” Lily reached for the matching hat.

“Don’t ask her. She proposed to me in sweats and a pug sweatshirt.” Emily sauntered down the stairs.

She had Sam in her arms in his matching onesie, red pants, and red and white Christmas booties. He was bouncing and babbling to himself.

“Wait. For real?” Grace looked at Alison. “Way to be romantic, mom.”

“Love is love, smart-ass, regardless of fashion.” Alison playfully whacked the back of her head.

“Ah, sarcasm and abuse. It’s Christmastime alright.” Lily took in a breath of the fresh pine scent.

When Emily got to the bottom of the steps Sam started wiggling. He saw his sisters and lit up in delight. He loved traipsing along behind them and crawling in their laps.

She put him down. He clapped his hands in excitement and toddled towards them.

Grace and Lily fawned over him, encouraging him and clapping their hands loudly.

He latched on to Lily’s leg when he reached her, hugging her and cooing.

“Hi, Sammy.” Lily smiled down at him. He was gripping her pajama bottoms in between his little fingers. “You look like a little peppermint.”

“Awww.” Grace walked next to her sister and brother. “Suddenly I don’t hate these outfits so much. It’s cute when he wears it.”

Sam let go of Lily’s pant legs and looked up at Grace.

“Gace.” He still hadn’t mastered saying her name. For the longest time he’d pronounced it ‘gays’, which his mothers had thought was absolutely hysterical. “Gace up.” He lifted his hands and begged to be picked up.

“Hey, little man.” She leaned down and lifted him off of the floor. “You get to meet Santa today. You excited?”

Sam wasn’t paying attention to her anymore. He’d shifted his focus to Lily, reaching for her. Grace passed him off. He hugged her neck and murmured, “sissy, wuv.” His way of telling his sisters he loved them. 

Alison glanced at Emily as she reached for her phone to snap a photo. They loved capturing moments of their kids getting along.

“Down.” He ordered after about ten seconds.

He marveled at the lights on the tree as his family got set up for the picture. Every so often his moms had to pull him away so he wouldn’t rip an ornament down. He started to get fussy about it, so Alison put him in his play area.

They got into position and Emily set up the automatic timer on the camera. She walked around the Christmas tree to where Sam’s play area was set up. But he wasn’t in it.

“Em, hurry up. The light is flashing.” Alison tried to hurry her along.

“Uh...we’ve got a jail break.” Emily spun around.

She caught a glimpse of movement between the tree and the window. She quickly followed him.

She hadn’t been expecting to come out the other side to see that her son had stripped out of his outfit and diaper. He was only wearing his booties. He’d put a stocking on his head. It had slipped down over his forehead and was resting near his brows like the brim of a hat.

He looked up at his mom and grinned. Then he turned to run away, because he loved to make his parents and sisters chase him.

“Sammy! Get back here!” Emily stumbled around their presents.

“What...” Grace looked over and saw her brother stark naked and started howling in laughter.

Sam ran in front of the camera, directly in Alison’s line of sight. He had a snowflake ornament in his hand.

“Sam!” Alison exclaimed in surprise.

There was a rustling noise behind them. Grace had laughed herself into such a stupor that she was falling backwards into the tree. She knocked into it, nearly sending it falling into Emily, who was on the other side.

Emily popped out as the tree started to fall. Alison leaped forward and grabbed the tree to try and salvage the ornaments. She managed to get it upright again, but several ornaments fell into the pile of presents below it.

Lily had grabbed Grace’s arm to keep her from falling. Her other arm was stretched towards her little brother.

“Come here, buddy.” She tried to entice him.

“Heeee.” A huge grin spread across his face.

He watched in amusement as they pulled everything back together. He took a few wobbly steps towards his family, but tripped over his booties. He caught himself before he hit the floor, his baby-powdered bottom in the air in direct line of the camera, which was capturing the entire sequence of events.

The camera clicked as Emily reached down to grab him. When she had him in her arms she looked over at her wife and her daughters. They were all staring in utter disbelief.

The living room was completely silent.

“Tree!” Sam exclaimed in delight, pointing towards the tree that he’d nearly destroyed.

As he jutted his finger forward an ornament fell off of a limb and bonked Grace in the head.

“Best Christmas ever.” Lily smiled at the mayhem.

Sam giggled and then buried his face in Emily’s shoulder. The stocking fell off of his head, leaving him butt naked, with the exception of his feet.

Emily looked at Alison. They started laughing. Grace and Lily joined in. Emily walked over to her family.

“Guess he didn’t like the matching pajamas either.” Grace reached over to tousle his hair.

"Shall we try that again? Minus the demolition derby?” Alison leaned forward and tickled the little boy’s cheek.

“I’ve got his clothes.” Lily snapped his onesie in the air, sending a few pine needles to the floor.

Emily handed the baby off to Alison and went to set the camera up again while Alison got Sam redressed.

They gathered in front of the tree and took several photos in various different poses. None of them could contain their giggles.

After the photos were finished the twins insisted on making gingerbread cookies. They burned the first batch, but the second batch had been perfect.

They were finishing up the cookies as their moms got Sam ready for his picture with Santa.

Grace slid a spatula underneath the little man-shaped cookie, moving it off of the cookie sheet. Lily opened the oven with a mitt on and reached inside to grab the last of the cookies.

When she turned around Grace was squeezing some icing into a spoon.

“We have to wait for them to cool before we can decorate them.” Lily put the hot pan down against the stove. 

“Mind your business.” Grace shoved the spoon full of icing into her mouth. 

She stuck her tongue out at her sister. She hadn’t expected Lily to laugh in response.

“What’s so funny?”

“Your teeth are green.” Lily grinned.

“Girls! Are you almost ready?” Alison exclaimed.

They heard stampeding footsteps racing towards them. Sam’s boots clunked against the kitchen floor. He was wearing a light brown Christmas jumper that had a hood with reindeer antlers.

“It smells like Christmas in here.” Emily clapped her hands together in excitement.

She loved it when her girls got into the spirit.

“We thought we could decorate the cookies as a family after Sam meets Santa.” Lily double-checked to make sure the oven was off.

Sam saw the cookies and his eyes lit up. He reached up towards the cabinet, trying to grab them.

“No, no. That’s hot, buddy.” Lily swooped down and picked him up.

Grace picked up a cookie that had cooled down.

“Emily, you have to look at these pictures.” Alison walked in the kitchen with an amused look on her face, her phone in her hand.

The images from the digital camera automatically saved to their phones, but Emily hadn’t had a chance to look at them yet. Alison was swiping through them, laughing at each one.

“We’ll get little man situated in his car seat.” Grace broke off a piece of the gingerbread cookie and handed it to Sam.

He squeezed it with his fingers and brought the cookie up to his mouth. He closed his lips around it and started gumming it.

“Careful with the sugar. Don’t let him get too sticky.” Alison glanced at the twins.

“We got this. Relax.” Grace waved it off.

They went to grab Sam’s diaper bag. Emily and Alison sorted through the images, trying to choose one for a Christmas card. They had to have it ready when they went to the mall. They were planning on dropping it off to make multiple prints while Sam got his picture with Santa.

“My mom is going to love these.” Emily zoomed in on a picture where all of them, including Sam, were smiling at the camera.

“Never in a million years did I think we would be those people.” Alison shook her head with a laugh.

“The suburban mommies who force their children to wear matching jammies?” Emily asked.

Alison snorted.

“Say jammies again. It’s adorable.” She leaned into Emily, putting her hand against the brunette’s shoulder.

“I’ll show you adorable.” Emily moved forward and planted a kiss on her lips.

“Mmm.” Alison smiled. “You taste like peppermint.”

“Merry Christmas.” Emily lifted her brows with a smile.

“Maybe after the kids go to bed we can play a little Mrs. and Mrs. Claus?” Alison suggested. “I still have the sexy outfit from last year...”

"Merry Christmas to me.” Emily liked the sound of it.

Emily looked at the photo on her phone again.

“You know, these are cute.” Emily admired her family. “It’s kind of weird though. All the Christmases we had when we were younger were never normal. The first one without you after you disappeared was hard.”

Alison looked down at the floor.

“Sometimes I wish I could go back and fix everything about our childhood.” She chewed on her inner cheek.

“It got us here. So there’s that.” Emily smiled warmly at her wife. “Things were just different when I was a kid. My mom and dad went out of their way to spoil me on Christmas. I just want to make sure our kids have that experience. But maybe I’m trying too hard. Trying to overcompensate.” Emily shrugged. “I miss my dad a lot this time of year. This makes me feel like he’s with us.”

Alison felt a twinge in her heart. Emily held her emotions about her dad inside for the most part, but every so often she let her guard down. Alison knew how she felt. She missed her mom. The woman had been horrible, but she was still her mother. It was hard not having her around on the holidays.

“I love what you do for us. The girls, too.” She rubbed Emily’s arm.

“Yeah, I know.” Emily swiped through a few more photos. “But this year feels a little different.”

She scrolled through the photos until she got to the chaotic scene of their son rebelling against Christmas. She chuckled.

“See, this feels more real to me than all those other pictures.” She laughed at the image of everything falling apart. They all had genuine smiles on their faces.

“I thought you were going to get impaled by an icicle ornament.” Alison looked at the picture.

In the photo she had her mouth wide open. Her eyes were fixed on the tree, which was a blurring motion of lights.

They went through a couple more photos. Emily stopped when she landed on a picture where Sam was mooning the camera. It was right after he’d fallen over and caught himself on his palms. His little butt was in the air. Behind him it looked like Lily and Grace were toppling into the tree. Alison had her hands thrown up in surprise and Emily was stumbling out of the rubble. It looked like she was diving towards Sam.

Emily craned her neck forward and started laughing. It was the funniest thing she had ever seen in her life. And it was real. It was their family.

“Oh, this is priceless.” Emily felt tears of joy stinging her eyes. She couldn’t stop laughing. “We’re using this one.”

Alison peered at the photo. She saw the slack-jawed less-than-perfect appearance on her face and shook her head.

“Over my dead body.”

“Again? You know, you can only fake your death so many times...” Emily teased.

“You shut up.” Alison laughed in surprise.

“Come on. Look at it. This is us. I don’t think I could find anything better to represent what our family is like every day.”

“Complete and utter chaos?”

“Exactly.”

“Moms!” Lily called. “We’re ready!”

“We’ll continue this debate in the car.” Emily swiped the keys with a smile on her face. She knew she’d already won. She always got her way at Christmas. But for a little extra insurance she made a suggestion. “We’ll see what the girls think.”

Alison knew she was fighting a losing battle. Lily and Grace had Emily’s sense of humor.

By the time they got to the mall it had been decided. The disastrous picture was going to be their card.

The theme of disaster continued when they took Sam to meet Santa. He had cried when Alison placed him on Santa’s lap.

At first he’d been too distracted by his sisters making funny faces at him to notice the strange man with the white beard. But then he turned around. His little body jolted in surprise. His lip quivered when he saw the stranger.

He had spun around and reached for his mommies, his arms outstretched and his hands gripping at the air as he whined.

“It’s okay, Sammy.” Alison kneeled next to him as Santa bounced him on his knee.

“We’re right here, baby.” Emily leaned next to Alison. She played with Sam’s fingers.

Sam whimpered and looked back at Santa. The jolly old fellow smiled at him. Sam’s brows dipped down in apprehension and confusion. He reached for the beard and gave it a tug.

Santa laughed. When Sam saw him smile he smiled back.

Emily and Alison slowly backed away so they could snap the photo before their son noticed they weren’t next to him anymore.

They managed to get a halfway decent photo before he started to cry again. When Alison took him away from Santa he wrapped his arms around her neck and sniffled, laying his cheek against her shoulder. She rubbed his back and spoke quietly to him to calm him down.

He fell asleep on the way home, which they had expected. He’d had a big day, and it wasn’t quite over yet.

After he woke up from his nap he got to decorate cookies with his sisters. He got icing everywhere, including in his hair. 

When they were done with the cookies they had one last surprise for him.

They all bundled up to take him to look at the decorative lights all around the city. He had been in awe of them.

In the end it wasn’t the presents or the tree or the smell of the gingerbread men his big sisters made that Sam enjoyed the most about his first Christmas. It was the lights.

The blue icicle shaped lights that were hanging in the window at his house. The multicolored blinking lights outlining the neighbor’s house. The twinkling twilight lights set to “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” at the end of the block. The lights outlining Santa’s reindeer in a set-up a few streets over.

Large trees outlined in white lights. Candy canes in red and white spiral patterns. Christmas scenes from Santa’s workshop. Penguins playing in the snow. Presents and stars. Lights set to musical numbers.

He was fascinated by all of them. His favorite was a light parade of white and blue glowing shower lights spanning an entire house. Rainbows of greens and reds were set in an arch on a timer. White lights near the roof twinkling made it look like a winter wonderland.

“Oooh.” Sam lifted his chubby little hand and pointed his index finger towards the light display. The lights illuminated his face in different colors. “Whoooa.” He smiled.

He watched in amazement as he gummed a soft gingerbread cookie, leaving it a sopping drooling mess on his face.

Lily swiped away the drool on his chin. He made a face to showcase his disapproval, but then giggled and turned back towards the light display.

Seeing Christmas through their baby brother’s eyes gave Lily and Grace a new appreciation for the holiday. And it rejuvenated their tired moms.

It hadn’t been a perfect Christmas. The photoshoot had been a disaster. The girls had burned the cookies. Sam had cried meeting Santa. He had broken a Christmas ornament and scared himself and had ripped into a present that wasn’t his. The house was a mess by the time the night was over.

But that didn’t take away the joy that Alison and Emily felt when they put their tired boy to bed that night in his Christmas Pjs. They had listened as Lily and Grace read him The Night Before Christmas. They sang him Christmas carols until he fell asleep.

They laid in bed together that night, knowing their traditions weren’t perfect. But the traditions were theirs.

Christmas wasn’t about perfection. It was about the love of their family, and the memories that would last a lifetime...including the photo of a mischievous little boy running around in nothing but Christmas booties and a stocking on his head that was framed and put on their mantle as a reminder of the joy they had felt that day.

[fundielicious-simblr]

(AN: Going to try this update in 1st person again, I like how we get to see more of her personality when its 1st person, this one is going to be a ‘day in the life’ sort of thing. I’m introducing a new ‘series’ type thing after this which I’m excited for as its purely experimental and is me trying to push my storytelling abilities. I’ve also not forgotten the poses and the frumper dress! they’ll definitely be ready by this weekend [which for me is a Thursday])

Adalynn’s POV

I’m officially in the 2nd trimester with the twins! It still feels so surreal saying that I’M the one having twins - I watched my mother have twins, watched Kyleigh have triplets AND twins, and I used to pray to the Lord to get rid of my envious spirit, but now I’m praising him for his blessings! It’s all the more a happier thought now that we’re in our new house! We’ve been settling in well, the timing couldn’t have been better! We leave for Family Bible Camp in a bit, so we’ve started making packing lists, checking the RV, and making travel plans. School is out for the boys, so they can all sleep in a bit whilst I get the house in order.

Since the boys don't have school, I had more time to make breakfast in the morning before the chaos of the day starts. Back when I was home, my sister Macie was better at cooking so I did the early morning nappy changes while she made breakfast; I still learnt how to cook, but I'm not as good a cook as she is. 

Boy am I happy that I made breakfast when I did, a summer storm caused a power outage, so the boys ate their breakfast in the dark. They took it in stride though, they created an adventure story for themselves and got through breakfast before I encouraged them to head outside to play whilst I got the younger 2 bathed and fed. 

It’s a good thing that it’s so hot outside, the water tank gets heated up by the sun so the bath water wasn’t freezing cold. Now that my belly has grown it takes more effort to bend to get to bathtub height and practically wrestle to get them clean when in the tub, but I would rather my back ache than have smelly toddlers wreaking havoc everywhere. My mother used to say “with toddlers, especially spirited ones, sometimes - and only sometimes - you have to pick your battles” When they’re out of the tub is when we’ll work on their obedience, but sometimes I’ll say anything to get them in the tub 😂

(AN: ignore the lack of monkey bars, I forgot to put it in as these were taken on different days😂)

I’ve been slowly replanting my fruits and veggies into the soil out back, it’s great having loads more space for them to grow and flourish. Being out in the garden is a great way to de-stress whenever the boys are determined to run me ragged and have me grow multiple grey hairs. Once they bloom I’m sure that our grocery bill should reduce, with the way these boys eat it’s a great idea to have fresh fruits and veggies there for them to snack on - it also makes trips to the dentist that much easier. 

The 3 older boys eventually got their monkey bars, and are climbing on them at every possible chance they get. It’s great hearing them play and ‘monkey around’ with each other, building the bonds that will take them into adolescence and adulthood. Seeing them so happy together brings me back to my childhood, when my parents first married they moved into a small 2 bedroom house, and when Barret, Macie, Zoe, and me were young we’d have to get creative with the space we had. As more kids came they’d knock down a wall or two to make more space for us, before we eventually moved into my grandparents house when my dads siblings married and moved out. While it was great to have more space for everyone, some of my fondest memories are in that small house when we’d all camp out on the floor and tell the funniest stories to one another. 

In the late afternoon before dinner, the boys and I gathered around the piano by candle light to sing some hymns together. I love playing the piano, and being able to spend time with my boys whilst we sang together lifted my spirits so much! They’re older now and can learn the words to entire songs rather than just working on a single verse, this is also great practice for when they’re at camp, this is the first time they’ll be on their own in the Children’s Academy doing their song and verse memorisation without any parents around, so I want them to at least have the basics down. We’re also meant to be singing as a family (my parents and siblings included) whilst we’re there, so we spent time going through the songs that we’ll sing.

Power came back in just in time for dinner, so by the time Mason got back home it was as if the power outage didn’t even happen. At dinner the boys were tripping over each other to tell their daddy about the fun day they had, they told him all about their adventures without power and the fun times they had outside on the monkey bars - they even sang him some of the songs that we’d practiced in the afternoon! It’s great seeing my children have a good relationship with their father, and I love that no matter how tired Mason is, he’s always willing to sit and listen to what the kids have to say. Washing up is still done by hand, but after doing the dishes for 15 people, 7 is nothing to me.

It’s great being able to put the boys to bed in the same room, we say a goodnight prayer after doing nighttime devotions before we say night night. Joshua still has trouble sleeping through the night, so he still makes trips to our room during the night which we’re working on getting down to a minimal amount, when the twins come there’ll be more disruption during the night and I’d rather we deal with one obstacle before we add more layers of chaos 😂

[atomic-taco-muffin]

The Lost Princess Chapter 64

Warnings: I actually don’t know this time

Rating: SFW

A woman sat in a tower in a dark realm while humming a song. (same song from the beginning of this story) She looked outside the window and saw the waves crash on the beach. 

“Don’t worry, (Y/N). You’ll see me soon,” she said. 

~~~~

You, Vanitas, Rumi, the twins, Sora, Donald and Goofy met at Yen Sid's Mysterious Tower. You all stood at attention as the former Keyblade Master sat in his tall chair.

“In order to defeat Xehanort, there are allies we must gather, acting now to rouse them from their slumber. We have discussed this before, Sora,” Yen Sid said. They all nodded. “Your Mark of Mastery exam was conducted in the hopes you would acquire the power to wake them. However, the darkness nearly took control of you, and your grasp of your new abilities leaves much to be desired.”

Sora looked sad and You, Vanitas, Rumi, the twins, Donald and Goofy shared concerned faces.

“Furthermore, Xehanort nearly made you, (Y/N), and Vanitas his vessel, and in the process stripped you of most of the power you had gained by then. I suspect you have already noticed this, correct? But first, you must regain all the strength you have lost. Perhaps it is foolish to expect a complete recovery, but it is absolutely vital you perfect one power--the power of waking, which you failed to master during your exam. There's someone who lost his strength and found it again, a true hero to whom you ought to pay a visit,” Yen Sid said. Sora perked up and struck various bodybuilding poses, to Donald's less- than-amusement. You and the girls giggled while Vanitas chuckled. “Perhaps he can point you in the right direction.”

“Got it,” Sora saluted. Yen Sid nodded. 

“Master Yen Sid...” Donald said. 

“You can count on us to take care of Sora!” Goofy said. 

“I would have it no other way. I put Sora in your hands. Girls, take care of them. Including you, Vanitas,” Yen Sid said. 

“You got it!” you said. 

“Oh come on! We can take care of ourselves!” Sora said.

“No you can’t,” Roxy said. 

“Well whatever!” Donald said. He turned to look at Sora. “And don't forget, we'll keep an eye on you.” he held out his hand. 

“Oh, this is gonna be lots of fun!” Goofy said as he joined with his own hand.

“It’s not a vacation!” Yui said as she put her own hand in. You, Rumi, Roxy, Vanitas, and Sora completed the handshake. 

“Let's go!” Rumi said. You all stood at attention toward Yen Sid.

“Count on us!” you all said. Yen Sid nodded and you all headed towards the Gummi Ship.

“Hey, Vani. Ready to see your sister in action?” you said. 

“I think you’re ready to see me in action,” Vanitas said. Later, you all flew in the Gummi Ship, seemingly going nowhere. You, Donald, Roxy, Vanitas, and Sora crossed your arms impatiently. Sora whined as Donald glared at him.

“How're we supposed to get there now?” Sora asked. 

“What? I thought you knew!” Roxy said.

“Looks like all the old highways are closed. Didn't Master Yen Sid say that Sora should trust the guidance his heart gives?” Rumi said. 

“C'mon, Sora. Which way?” Donald said.

“Ummm...” 

“Hey, would you get serious?” Vanitas asked.

“Gimme a break, I'm trying. These things take time!” You, the twins, Vanitas, and Donald sighed. 

“Well, since we've already been before, why don't you try picturing out friends like we're there?” Goofy asked. Sora stood up and walked behind his chair.

“Hmmm...” he said as he made a bicep pose, mimicking Hercules.

“What the hell are you doing?” you asked. Sora ignored you and continued making the pose.

“Well?” Yui asked.

“Sorry, I got nothin'. What did you expect?” Donald fell back into his chair, exasperated while you, Vanitas, and the girls sighed. 

“‘May your heart be your guiding key,’” Goofy said.

“Huh? What's that?” you asked.

“Master Yen Sid always said that, right before we went off on any of our real important adventures.” 

“Really?” Sora asked. You turned to look at Donald. 

“Ring a bell?” you asked. 

“Uh-uh...” Donald said. 

“Maybe I just imagined it,” Goofy said as he scratched his head.

“You imagine a lot of things,” Vanitas said. 

“‘May my heart be my guiding key,’” Sora said. He got an idea and ran back to his chair. “I've got it!” 

He summoned the Keyblade and aimed it forward. The tip glowed brightly and a portal opened ahead of the ship.

“It’s a gate!” you and the others said. Sora sat in his chair.

“All right! Olympus Coliseum, here we come!” he said. He grabbed the controls and the ship sped off into space through the portal. You, Sora, Donald, Goofy, Vanitas, Rumi, and the twins landed on Olympus in a small cave.

“Huh? Uh...” Sora said as he looked around. But there was no one around.

“No fanfare?” you asked. You mocked playing a trumpet. Donald listened for one, but shook his head.

“Un-uh...” he said as Goofy and the others looked around. 

“Nope, looks like we missed the Coliseum,” Goofy said. Sora continued looking around.

“Sora, YOU opened the gate!” Roxy said. Sora scratched his head bashfully.

“I was a little off again. Sorry! We'll find him. But we need to go!” he said as he started walking. You ran up to Sora and followed him.

“Up the mountain?” Yui asked. 

“Yeah. ‘Up’ is the usual direction,” you said. 

“Well, never hurts to have your head in the clouds,” Goofy said. 

“Yeah!” Sora said. Vanitas snorted. You and Sora smirked and made a tough fist. Goofy and the girls giggled and Donald and Vanitas gave a sigh. You and Sora continued walking with Goofy, Vanitas, and the girls following behind.

“Hey. We're leaving!” you said. Donald opened his eyes and jumped with a shout, running up to catch you all. Soon, you all reached a clearing with a few trees.

“I think we might be goin' in circles,” Goofy said as you and Sora thought.

“Sora...” you, Donald, Vanitas, and the twins said judgmentally.

“Did I make a turn at the wrong rock?” Sora asked as he walked closer to the edge and called out. “Hey, Hercules! Where are youuu?”

“What’s that going to do?” Rumi asked. 

“I don’t know. I thought that it might work.” A wisp of smoke landed near you all and out of the cloud appeared...

“All right. I know I dotted my I's, crossed my T's, zeroed the hero. So what gives? Who could possibly be trying to give me a migraine by yodeling that yutz's name?” Hades said. 

“Really? Hades?” you asked and Hades sighed. 

“Oh, it's just you. Oy vey. Don’t know who those people behind you are though,” he said. 

“It's just us? Even for you that's cold,” Sora said. 

“Don't forget...I can always TURN UP THE HEAT!”

“Wait. If Hades is here, then where's this Hercules person?” Rumi asked. Hades whirled toward Rumi, startling her. She yelped and hid behind Roxy.

“What is everyone's infatuation with that dolt?!” he said. The blue flame on his head bursted into a large red one, turning his skin red as well. He glared at Rumi for a moment before cooling himself down, becoming blue again.

“You know what? Never mind. Never mind. I'm cool. I'm good. Because...Wonderboy'll be outta my hair soon enough,” he said. You and the others summoned your weapons. 

“So you're up to no good again! Why am I not surprised?” you said. 

“Of course he is,” Goofy said.

“You bet!” Donald said. 

“Whoa, easy--what is this, Sparta? Kind of on a schedule. Don't have time to toss around the old fire and brimstone. The whole cosmos is basically waiting for me to, you know, conquer it!” Hades said. He walked away and you all dispelled your weapons.

“Poor Hades. He thinks he can actually pull it off this time,” Sora said. 

“Where are my Titans? Show me your power!” Hades called. The sky turned dark and the ground shook. An enormous shadow loomed over you and the others and Donald hid behind Sora while you clung to Vanitas and Roxy before a blast of icy wind came over the mountain. Above, lava flowed from a nearby precipice.

“Ahh! Love the breeze,” Hades said. The wind gained speed and shedded its icy qualities. You and the others struggled to hold on but were swept up and off the mountain. Hades looked over his handiwork.

“Ahh. That sent 'em sailing,” he said and suddenly paused. “Sailing right to where I left...Eh, no biggie.” He gazed upward at the Titans.

“Nice work, boys! So, back to the whole cosmic coup thing?” he said.

~Le Time Skip~

In the city of Thebes, Hercules wiped his hands together, having done some heavy lifting, when upon hearing the sound of screams, he turned, seeing You, Sora, Donald, Vanitas, Rumi, the twins, and Goofy flying towards him. His eyes widen and he jumped into the air, catching you, Rumi, Sora and Goofy in both arms. He landed on one knee and stood.

“See? Found him,” Sora said. 

“Yeah, guess this counts!” Rumi said. Hercules chuckled.

“Hey! Get us down!” Vanitas yelled. Herc turned to see Donald, Vanitas, and the twins caught on the fangs of a lion statue.

“Just a second!” Donald yelled and crossed his arms with a glare. Herc walked over and helped them down. 

“You guys are here! Sora, Donald, Goofy! You literally dropped in. Gotta say, I'm impressed,” he said.

“Thanks!” Yui said. 

“Liked the catch,” Goofy said. 

“Yeah, thanks Herc. But...what's going on?” you said. You looked around at the burning city, smoke plumed billowing into the sky. Several cracked stone buildings surround you all. Hercules sighed.

“Take a guess. Starts with an H,” Herc said. 

“Ah, I get the picture. Actually, we bumped into the H-ster on the way here,” Roxy said. 

“Uh-huh,” Donald nodded.

“He said something' about conquering the whole cosmos,” Yui said. 

“All of it, huh? Nice of him to show a little self-restraint. Well, whatever he's planning, I'll send him running back across the Styx.” Herc and Sora striked a pose, you, Vanitas, and the girls giggling. 

“That's our Herc!” Sora said. You all walked through the city toward a gigantic statue of the famous hero himself.

“So Sora, (Y/N), is there a reason you guys are visiting? I'm guessing it's not just for the cheese and olives,” Herc said. 

“Oh yeah!” you and Sora said. 

“It sounds like somebody forgot,” Rumi said. 

“That's Sora and (Y/N) for you,” Donald said. 

“Why am I not surprised?” Vanitas asked. You and Sora crossed your arms. 

“We just...took our time remembering. Herc, I came here so I could ask you something,” Sora said. 

“Ask ME?” Herc asked. 

“Yeah. Do you remember the last time we were together? You were feeling down and out. How'd you get your strength back--when you jumped in and saved Meg?”

“Hmm...that's tough. All I know is that she was in trouble. Suddenly, I wanted to save her with all my heart, but...it's not like I could tell you how.” Sora looked down.

“Oh man,” he said. 

“What's wrong?” Herc asked. 

“All my strength is gone from me too. That's why I need you--because I was hoping you might have a solution, or something.” 

“I'm sorry, Sora.” You, Donald, Vanitas, and the girls saw a shower of meteors over Herc's shoulder, but on closer look, they're actually...

“Heartless!” you all said. Most of the Heartless landed, while one struck the statue of Hercules on the foot, causing the enormous statue to topple over. You all took out your weapons.

“Let's talk later!” Herc said. 

“Right...once we've dealt with these guys,” you said. 

~Time Skip To Where We Meet Xigbar~

Facing no response, you and the others frowned before hearing footsteps. A large figure walked out of the cloud of dust, the hero himself coming into view. Hercules dusted off his armor and you all exclaimed joyfully. Herc brushed his chin with a sigh of relief.

“You scared us!” Sora said.

“It's nothing. That's what these are for,” Herc said. Herc flexed his biceps. Goofy chuckled and he and Donald mimicked Herc. You all heard a portal open and a familiar, though unwanted, face stepped through, peering at them through his yellow eye.

“Oh, wow! Very nice, full marks,” he said clapping.

“Uncle Xigbar!” the twins and Rumi said.

“You...” Vanitas growled.

“Go away!” Donald said.

“No Organization!” Goofy said.

“All this altruism is giving me the warm and fuzzies. So then, does having a heart of light come with an extremely good insurance policy?” Xigbar said.

“Just say what you mean,” you said.

“Oh, but I did though. No good will ever come from putting other people first.”

“I was able to save Meg's life because I was ready to risk my own,” Herc said.

“Because you've got friends in high places, you mean. Tricks like that don't fly for your average joe.” Hercules was speechless.

“What do you know? You weren't even there! If you were, you'd admire Herc's courage,” Yui said.

“I don't admire one guy leaping into danger if it means someone else might have to jump in to save him. You're all just lining up to lose out. Dooming others to take the fall with ya. Oh, and you can spare me the usual party line. Yes, hearts are powerful when they're connected. But if you put too much of that power in one place, some of those hearts might end up breaking.” He pointed toward you and the others. “Still, that doesn't mean you should change. Accept the power you're given. Find the hearts joined to yours.”

“Why would we ever take advice from YOU?” Vanitas asked.

“As if! You don't have any choice but to follow this sweet little trail of bread crumbs. And at the end, you'll finally realize what destiny has in store for you. In fact, your reward might be right around the corner. You're so close!” Suddenly, you felt something squeeze in your chest and you fell to the ground.

“(Y/N)!” your friends exclaimed. 

“Oh, I forgot. We put something inside of your heart. What it is still remains a mystery to me,” Xigbar said. He walked away, laughing to himself, and vanished. By the time he was gone, the squeezing in your chest ceased. 

“Are you okay?” Rumi asked. 

“I-I think so,” you said. Vanitas and Roxy helped you up and you tumbled into Roxy’s arms.

“Woah! I gotcha!” she said. 

“What happened?” Sora asked.

“I-I don’t know. But we know that the Organization did something to me,” you said. 

“We should keep going. We still need to protect the people,” Herc said.

“Right!” you and the others said. 

To be continued...

[skylar102]

Prompt: Wing Cuddles Summary: It’s the one year anniversary of when Alec left his old life behind him.

Read it on Ao3

It’s the one year anniversary of when Alec left his old life behind him. He doesn’t regret leaving. He misses his siblings, but the fact that they did not try to pay the ransom doesn’t make him miss them as much as he wants to. Izzy and Jace always made sure to include him in anything they could until someone saw them all together. The number of times Alec had to walk home alone because he was unwanted was too many to count.

He sits in his room, leaning against the headboard of his bed. He thinks back to his old life and realizes it doesn’t make him as sad as it first did. The memories from a year ago don’t send an ache through his heart. 

The life he has with Magnus, he wouldn’t trade it for the world. The amazing people he’s met in this city of Edom; Helen and Aline are now close friends of him and Magnus’. Friday’s just aren’t right if those two are not over for a night of food and drinks. His neighbors know his name and greet him with a smile when he leaves for work in the morning. 

The kid with the black wings he saw the first few weeks he and Magnus moved to the city asks him to play all the time. And also to brag about how he and Aec are twins because they share the same color wings. Max is his name, Alec comes to learn. 

The people of the market pull him left and right asking for his assistance. There’s never a dull day. People ask how he’s doing, offering him goods from their stalls without him having to ask or pay them. 

He finally feels wanted.

Alec pulls out the feather he’s kept hidden in his nightstand for 5 months now. He’s made sure to keep it in pristine condition but even after being careful, the vanes of the feather have become a bit frayed. The burgundy and gold still shine in the light of his room. He knows it’s weird that he’s kept a feather of Magnus’ after their first grooming together, but it was the first time someone trusted him with their wings and vice versa. His heart still swells at the trust Magnus has for him. 

He wants to cherish that first grooming for the rest of his life. Magnus and Alec have groomed each other’s wings plenty of times since that day, but Alec will never forget the intimacy of their first grooming for as long as he lives. They made it fun. The sounds that leave their mouths end with a laugh rather than awkward silence. Alec never feels like a bumbling fool because Magnus makes him feel comfortable. 

If only he had the courage to tell Magnus how he feels about the man.

A knock on the door has him hiding the feather under his pillow. He grabs the book on his nightstand to make it look like he’d been reading and not fawning over a feather.

“Come in!” he says, playing it cool before Magnus enters.

“Hey,” Magnus smiles at him, opening the door. “I was just wondering if you wanted to go out for dinner tonight.”

“Sure. What did you have in mind?”

“Well...” he trails off and plays with his ear cuff, a sign that Magnus is nervous. “You remember that restaurant that we went to the first month we came here?” 

“Yeah, the Italian place?” Alec nods, moving so that his legs and hanging off the bed. “Didn’t they close down for maintenance?”

“They did, but they just reopened last week and I thought… Well, I thought we could see if their pasta is still as good as it was all those months ago.”

“That sounds great, Magnus.”

“Excellent,” Magnus cheers, clapping his hands together before turning to leave. As he gets to the door frame he turns around. “Oh, make sure to dress nice. Apparently this place is now deemed as fine dining and doesn’t allow people in street clothes to enter anymore. Guess our street look made them reevaluate.”

Alec laughs as Magnus closes the door behind him. He grabs the feather and puts it back in his nightstand before standing up from the bed and making his way to the closet. Alec only has a few nice dress outfits from the times that his neighbors have invited them over for their monthly cocktail parties. It should worry him how many times they have the parties but after the first few, Alec has found that he enjoys the small gatherings.

Alec picks out his outfit, a black suit with matching black shoes. He lays out the suit on his bed, eyeing it to decide what tie he should wear when he remembers the gift that Aline had given him for his birthday. He goes to his dresser, pulls open the top drawer, and grabs the small box that has kept the tie in pristine condition until he found the courage to wear it. Opening the box he looks at the tie and smiles. 

Guess tonight is the night.

---

Alec makes his way downstairs to the living room. It had taken him longer than he had thought to get ready, but he wanted to make sure he looked his best. When he looked at himself in the mirror and the only color he had on him was the tie, he knew he made the right choice. He looks down at the burgundy tie and the gold swirls that twist around it and adjusts it for the twentieth time that night. He’s gelled up his hair so that it’s not the normal poofy mess he has to deal with.

He looks around and doesn’t see Magnus yet, which means the man is probably still getting ready. He shakes his head. He thought he was running late, but he forgot that Magnus wears makeup and won’t settle for anything less than perfect. 

Alec wanders around the living room, not wanting to sit so he doesn’t crinkle the suit. His mind drifts again to the past year and his time with Magnus. The house is now filled with memories of them. A small statue of a raven on the fireplace mantle that Magnus had brought home one day saying that it reminded him of Alec. Alec had been a sputtering fool only able to choke out a thanks before placing it in the spot it rests now.

There’s a guitar on the ground in the corner next to a record player that Alec had gifted Magnus after he witnessed Magnus help fix a street performer’s guitar on his lunch break. Watching Magnus strum a tune while making it sound right, Alec could tell that he could easily play a song. When he passed the music store one day and saw the acoustic guitar sitting in the window, he just knew he had to get it. He’s glad he stuck to his gut because the look on Magnus’ face when he saw the guitar sitting in the corner was everything to him.

His weekends were now filled with soft strums of guitar and a silky voice singing the sweetest of tunes. 

Alec turns his gaze to the wall and all the framed photos that hang. He steps up to the wall and takes in each photo. The one of him and Max showing off their wings in the park. Max had insisted on a hero pose and how could Alec say no to the little guy. He could hear Magnus laughing with Max’s parents, but he couldn’t feel embarrassed when Max was looking at him like he was the coolest person on the planet. 

The next photo was of Magnus and Aline both laying in chairs soaking up the sun’s rays in the back yard. Their wings spread out behind them, not caring that they were in the way of everyone else. What the photo doesn’t show is Helen sneaking up behind them with a bucket of water. Alec doesn’t think he’s laughed that hard before in his life, watching Aline chase her wife around the yard yelling profanities. He remembers looking over to where Magnus had sat up in the sun chair looking like a drowned rat and seeing the softest smile on his face instead of anger. 

Alec goes to the next photo. This one is probably his favorite of them all. It was later in the evening with Aline and Helen that they decided to have a bonfire in the back yard. They had invited their neighbors and Max and his parents over for smores. Aline had Max sit between her and Helen as a way to punish her wife for her earlier antics. There’s a visible pout on her face as she watches Aline help Max get his marshmallow on his stick. 

Their neighbors are chatting it up with Max’s parents. It was the first time they had met and they had hit it off immediately which meant they had added three more guests to their monthly get togethers. This also made Magnus sad because it meant less alcohol at the party, but Magnus got over it quickly once he saw how happy Max was to be hanging out with Alec more. 

In the two-person wicker chair sat him and Magnus. He hadn’t even realized they had practically snuggled against each other until their neighbor had given them the photo a few days later. He may have drunk too many sangrias that day, but Magnus had felt so nice next to him. His wing decided to make the decision for him and curl around Magnus, pulling the man into his side.

He remembers Magnus relaxing into his side, his own wings pulled behind him so that Alec’s could curl around him. The photo shows them looking at each other with smiles on their faces. He forgets what was said to cause them to look at each other with such tenderness.

That was the moment he fell in love with Magnus.

Alec is taken out of his trip down memory lane when he hears footsteps coming down the stairs. Turning to ask Magnus what took so long, his words die before they even reach his lips. 

Magnus was wearing a burgundy suit that matches his wings, gold seams around the edges of the blazer that shine. Golden cufflinks at the ends of the sleeves also glint in the light. His makeup flawless as always, eyeshadow the perfect match to the rest of his look. As Alec’s eyes look him over, they pause on the black tie around Magnus’ neck. When it hits the light just right, the colors of purple and blue shine through, just like his feathers. Alec’s throat dries up. 

He finally looks at Magnus and sees the man is also checking him out. When his eyes reach his tie, there’s a glow to them that wasn’t there before.

“Alexander,” Magnus whispers, finally looking at his face. “You look stunning.”

“As do you,” he whispers back, voice a bit more hoarse than he wishes.

They stare at each other for a moment more. Snapping out of it with an awkward cough, they make their way to the front door. Alec locks up the house behind them before meeting Magnus on the sidewalk. The two begin the slow journey to the restaurant on the other side of town. Walking side by side, Alec has to put his hands in his pockets to stop himself from grabbing Magnus’. His wings, on the other hand, have no problem with showing his true emotions and his left wing is slightly extended behind Magnus. If the other man notices, he’s kind enough to not mention it. 

“It’s a beautiful night out,” Magnus comments. 

“Yeah,” he says. Not as beautiful as you, he thinks.

They walk in comfortable silence until they reach their destination. Nuovi Inizi is lit up in a soft glow. New Beginnings, Alec muses, how fitting. The owners really outdid themselves with the remodel as they step inside the restaurant. The ceiling lights are dim as candles fill the room in a soft glow that truly sets the mood. Magnus approaches the hostess, saying they have a reservation as Alec takes in the place. 

“Follow me this way, Mr. Bane,” the hostess says. Magnus grabs his elbow and they follow the woman through the restaurant. They pass by a few couples that are also enjoying a night out, but they pass by them all and make their way through a set of french doors to the patio next to the ocean. Alec freezes at the sight causing Magnus to come to a halt as well. Magnus looks at him nervously and he understands why.

The patio has been cleared of all tables except for one in the middle. Fairy lights hang from the trees scattered around the area, illuminating the patio in a soft glow. 

“Magnus…”

“Is it too much?” Magnus asks anxiously.

“I don’t,” he stutters finally looking at the man. “What is all of this?”

Magnus gets even more nervous if possible. He rubs his hands together, biting his lip before speaking.

“It’s the one year anniversary from when you decided to join me,” he says. “I wanted to celebrate the moment in a special way because it means a lot to me that you chose to come with me.” Magnus’ wings get smaller behind him and Alec realizes that whatever his face is doing is scaring Magnus. “We can go somewhere else if it’s too much-”

“No,” Alec blurts out. “It’s- You did all of this,” he gestures at the table, “for me?”

“Of course I did, Alexander,” Magnus admits, his wings losing their tension. “There’s no one else in the world who deserves this more than you.”

If Alec wasn’t sure he was in love with Magnus, he is now. He closes the small space between then and grabs Magnus’ hands, holding tight.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “It’s beautiful.”

Whatever tension Magnus had in his body leaves and he pulls Alec towards the setup. The hostess left their menus on the table before disappearing back inside. Alec pulls out Magnus’ chair before sitting down in his own. He grabs the menu and everything is new. None of the foods they had last time are on the menu. 

“Wow,” Alec laughs, peering over his menu. “It’s like they completely threw out the old place.”

“That is for sure,” Magnus agrees with a laugh of his own. “You think they would at least keep the ravioli I had last time, don’t think I ever had it that good before in my life.”

The waitress comes back with a bottle of red wine and takes their orders. They fill the night with talk of work and life. Just like any night before this, words fall easily from their lips. Their laughter echoes on the empty patio and they have to stop themselves from getting too loud lest they annoy the patrons inside. When their dinner arrives, they’ve almost finished the whole bottle of wine and Alec feels warm inside. He’s pretty sure it’s mostly the wine but with Magnus sitting across from him, he can’t tell. Magnus always had a way of making him feel warm inside by just being in his presence. 

Small talk continues during dinner and after. Alec’s pretty sure they’ve stayed past their welcome but their waitress has not said anything so Alec isn’t going to either. Alec sits back and closes his eyes. He lets the sound of the ocean wash over him and that’s when he hears it; music drifting from inside the restaurant and reaching the patio.

Decision made, Alec sits up from his chair and holds out his hand.

“Care to dance, Mr. Bane?” Magnus stares at the hand and back up at him. Alec raises an eyebrow. So he may be feeling a bit more confident due to the wine, sue him. It’s not like he’d have this courage if he was sober. 

“Lead the way, Mr. Lightwood.” Magnus grabs his hand and Alec leads him to an open space. 

He holds Magnus’s right hand in his left and wraps his other around Magnus’ waist. Magnus’ other hand wraps around his neck and brushes at the hairs on the back of it.

In this world of ordinary people Extraordinary people I'm glad there is you

They sway back and forth, barely moving as they stare into each other’s eye. Alec has never been happier for Helen, that she taught him how to dance one drunken night.

In this world of overrated pleasures And underrated treasures I'm glad there is you

Alec leans his head forward to rest against Magnus’ and it feels like he’s truly found his place in the world. 

I live to love, I love to live With you beside me This role so new I'll muddle through With you to guide me

Alec doesn’t know what he would do without Magnus. What he would be. Who he would be. He shivers just thinking about it. Magnus must feel the shiver because the grip tightens before the fingers start stroking the back of his neck.

In this world where many many play at love But hardly any stay in love I'm glad there is you More than ever I'm glad there is you

“I love you,” Alec whispers in the small space between them. Magnus’s eyes shimmer in the soft glow of lights at the confession, a soft smile on his face. He looks even more beautiful than he has all night. 

“I love you, too,” Magnus whispers back. They stare at each other for a moment before he closes the space between them. 

The kiss is everything he imagined it to be. It’s not rushed or hurried. It’s gentle and soft, like they’re something fragile that needs to be handled with care. He tightens the hand he has on Magnus’ waist and feels the hand on the back of his neck drift into his hair. It never becomes heated even if he wants nothing more. Right now is not about that. It’s about the man in his arms and the fact that he loves him back.

He pulls back, laughing as Magnus follows his lips. He gives a small peck and leans his head next to Magnus’. Magnus tucks his face into the crook of his neck. Alec hums the lyrics of the song as they sway back and forth on the patio. The arm Magnus has around his neck drops to his shoulders and holds on tight. Once again his wings have a mind of their own and curl around Magnus’ wings. Their own little cocoon, tucked away from the rest of the world. He knows the wait staff will come to kick them out eventually, but right now? 

Right now, Alec wants nothing more than to dance with the man he loves.

[oh-theatre]

Objection!: Chapter 14

Chapter title: Two Birds, One Stone

A/n:  HELLO!! How is everyone doing! It's another chapter! And oh no! So much has been revealed! Have fun you guys hehe ;) I love Patton Sanders, I'm legally required to tell you that every day sorry. Anyway you have all the letters so have fun with that. Please do leave me some comments!! I appreciate them so much! They genuinely make my day!

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words: 5379

summary: The day after Halloween poses a strange one with good and bad events occurring

pairings: Eventual logicality, eventual prinxiety, platonic demus, romantic remile

warnings: Murder mention, child murder, Law and Courtroom, swearing, blood, hospital, crime scene, dead bodies, murder, gun mention, guns, swearing

Ao3 Link  

Let’s get a few things straight, shall we? One. Logan is not straight. Second, Logan could absolutely get used to waking up like this. Patton must have adjusted the lawyer for instead of sitting comfortably in the corner he was laying down with a pillow under his head and a blanket covering him. It took him a moment to recognize the warmth he felt around his arms and chest, that is until Remus squirms slightly, clutching tighter to Logan. He lets out a soft yawn before carefully sitting up trying not to wake up the twins. He moves Valerie first setting her softly on the pillow, she stutters but promptly falls back asleep. Remus turns out to be harder, clearly whether subconsciously or not sticks to Logan. Finally removing the tight grasp of the twin he sets Remus next to his sister, pulling the blanket above them for warmth.

“Apples don't have pits” Remus mumbles softly, rolling over with the blanket. Logan smiles softly, guess he listens. His tired eyes dart around the room, blinds aren't fully closed allowing some early sun to bleed in. He yawns once more covering it with his arm, moving stiffly to the kitchen.

“Good...morning” Logan would have jumped but he didn't know if he was fully conscious. He turns slowly his eyes set on a sleepy Patton, standing under the arch of the kitchen in his pajamas. There are a few things Logan can't explain, but the overwhelming need to take Patton in his arms and kiss him good morning might take the cake. The way Patton fiddles with the ends of his shirt, the soft shuffling of his bunny slippers as he yawns in place makes Logan, in the most professional sense, swoon.

“Good morning...Patton” His eyes slowly track the lawyer, his breath catches for just a moment. How could a person look so...perfect at all times? “I apologize, did I disturb your sleep?” He questions, Patton chuckles sweetly shaking his head. Their voices contain pleasant whispers.

“No no...I usually wake up early, so much to do” He mentions making his way further into the kitchen, Logan steps aside. “Coffee dea-” He stops himself, taking a deep breath, the pot of coffee shakes in his hand. “Would you like coffee Logan?” He corrects, Logan fears his own words. The silence consumes the room but his thoughts were pulsing. The same question in his mind, he knew the answer but was afraid of how he felt.

“Yes, I would enjoy some if it isn't too much trouble” He decides, ignoring anything really. He rubs uncomfortably at his clothes from the previous night. Patton notices gasping carefully.

“it's no trouble at all, are you alright?” He asks, Logan tilts his head raising an eyebrow. “I just mean your clothes, I have some clothes you could borrow” He suggests, Logan wouldn't be needing the coffee anymore, his eyes shoot open. He coughs as Patton returns to serving a delectable cup of freshly brewed coffee. He hands the cup gently to Logan their hands meeting for a moment, the slight shock from the carpet running through them. “Oh! I'm sorry!” Patton rushes pulling away, Logan shakes his head.

“It's alright, just friction and electricity” Logan tries, he's much too tired to explain anything. He gestures towards the table, Patton nods following him and sitting next to him. “What are your plans for the day?” Logan inquires, Patton yawns, his nose scrunching as he does so.

“Mmm,” He hums, stirring his coffee slowly “I'm not sure, Emile and Remy asked to babysit the twins so I am free for a while…” He recalls mentally going over his day “I was um…” He pauses meeting Logans trying eyes behind his glasses “I was thinking of working on...the case” He whispers, Logan takes a breath.

“Well if you would...want some assistance or company on that...I would..” Logan struggles not sure how to offer his help, Patton smiles taking Logan's hand.

“Thank you, Lo” He assures, for a moment the soft snoring of the twins, the morning noises as the earth wakes from its slumber...everything just falls away. It's these moments Patton treasures, where he can allow himself to get lost in someone. Feeling the ever soft fiddling of Logan's fingers in his own, the way his eyes sparkle during a conversation, the way his hair sits perfectly messy atop his head. The clock chimes, echoing through the house causing Patton to pull away. He averts his gaze looking anywhere but Logan's eyes. “I was going to visit Roman later tonight, would you like to join me?” Patton asks planning what he will bring the judge, maybe some sweet treats.

“One hundred percent” Virgil joins in, his voice causing both lawyers to jump, not giving Logan a chance to respond. Patton greets him with a warm smile and a light squeeze to the arm as the detective passes by for his own cup of coffee. A few moments later tired scurrying enters the room, Damian clutching to one of Patton's guest bedroom pillows. He eyes the lawyers curiously before following his father into the kitchen.

“How did you guys sleep?” Patton calls out from his table, the twins stir but they sleep deep. Virgil returns a moment after grumbling as his little son follows his almost every step, clearly creating a game of his own with it. Remus used to do just that, Patton recalls smiling fondly at the shy boy. He must have misstepped or forgot to look as he ended up bouncing right into his father's legs, hugging them for stability. Patton laughs gently allowing Damian to focus his attention towards Patton, waving coyly with his small hands towards his uncle.

“What are you doing down there?” Virgil teases picking up his son as he giggles ferociously. He buries his head into Virgil as the detective sits on the other side of Logan. Patton stands finishing his own beverage placing the hand-made china delicately in the sink for a later wash. He then proceeds to journey towards the couch where Remus and Valerie have somehow managed to cuddle with one another. Patton strokes their heads sweetly, all three yawning in unison. Remus wakes first instantly grabbing one of his father's fingers squeezing it.

“Morning crabcake” Patton whispers as Logan and Virgil continue a soft conversation in the background. Remus’s eyes flutter open as he sits up, his legs spread as he places his arms in the space between rubbing his crusted eyes.

“Mormin” He mumbles incoherently. “Day?” He mutters, to the normal person this would just be another child's weird thoughts but Patton knows his children well.

“You're going to spend the day with Remy and Emile!” Patton exclaims. Remus gives two thumbs up before falling dramatically backward onto the couch, Valerie grumbles kicking her brother annoyed. They commence in a small, tired fight before Valerie gives up crawling into her father's arm deciding that's her new resting spot. Remus, feeling left out, jumped upon his father resting in his others arms. Logan and Virgil look up both gain an increasing smile at the trio's antics.

“Home now?” Damian wonders tugging on his father's jacket. Virgil yawns nodding, he stands to gather what few things he has including Damian's candy from the previous night. Patton makes his way over to him allowing Remus to somehow slither away from him to greet Logan. The lawyer had grown quite comfortable and used to Remus’s ways and fully welcomed the young boy in his arms.

“Yes home now” Virgil confirms, Patton smiles at them from afar. Virgil pulls him into a hug, a hug he wished he had given Roman. “I will meet you guys at the hospital later, thanks Pat” Virgil nods, Patton shakes Damian's small hand much to the boy's glee before they make their way out of the house, disappearing behind the door.

“Remus I would kindly ask you to refrain from messing with my hair” Logan interjects Patton's thoughts, the father spins instantly turning red as Remus uses Logans head as his canvas. Patton is never embarrassed by his kids but there are times when he wishes they wouldn't act on impulse. He glances incredibly apologetic towards Logan barely pulling Remus off of Logan.

“I'm so sorry” He regrets releasing the twins into their bedroom, listening as they cause commotion every step of the way.

“Don't be” Logan assures, Patton sighs just in time as the doorbell rings. Patton makes his way towards the door opening it, Emile acts first waving excitedly as Remy simply makes his way into the house.

“Are there two munchkins in this house or what?!” Remy exclaims, Patton politely invites Emile in laughing at the detective. Sure enough, two excited pairs of feet return to the common area squealing with delight as they jump into Remy's arms. “Well if it isn't thing one and thing two” He greets, they hug him, squeezing him possibly a little too tight.

“Uncle Rem!” They manage through their absolute enthrallment, Logan wonders if he could ever procure such a reaction. Emile swears he's swooned multiple times, watching his partner lovingly from afar.

“Thank you so much for doing this, I would take them with me but I don't want them to see Ro in such a… dismal state” Patton informs, Emile takes his arms shaking his head.

“Always and thank you, I think it'll be great for us…” Emile admits now watching Remy ‘tackle’ the twins on the floor, screeching in ungodly laughter. “And hey if he wakes up shoot us a text and we’ll bring them over” Emile adds turning to Patton.

“Thank you” He gives a quick lean before making his way towards his things, making sure he has his belongings. “Oh! And Virge will be dropping Damian off in a little bit” He remembers, Emile nods. “I am going to go change, I will be right back” He announces returning after a moment fully clothed. Logan stands straightening out his own outfit feeling tight. Patton kneels in front of the now calm twins, they stare expectantly.

“Hello, Papa!” Valerie greets using her small hands to boop her father's nose. Remus falls back into Remy's lap giggling, clearly recovering from an adrenaline rush.

“Hello Valerie” Patton replies booping her right back, she swats her nose. “Alright, you two are going to be on your best behavior right?” They nod in unison, a little too fast. “Good, well Papa loves you and will see you later,” He says giving them both a kiss on the forehead. They wave him goodbye before returning to their own game. Logan stands following Patton towards the door, Remus looks up waving him goodbye with a cheery grin. They step out of the house making their way towards the sidewalk.

“Do you ever worry about leaving them?” Logan ponders out loud

“Not if its someone I trust, and I trust them” Patton responds. They settle silently into the car, a nagging thought pulls at Logan.

Would you trust me?

~~~

“Well well well, look who finally came to visit me!” Roman greets, a proud smile across his face. Patton freezes rejoicing in a squeal running towards his friend. A careful hug is shared between the pair, only so much can be done with Roman's injury and the fact that he now resides in a bed. Logan follows closing the door, he smiles relieved at the judge who acknowledges it.

“Oh Ro! You're awake!” Patton claps, he sits at the end of the bed now still holding onto Romans hand afraid to let it go. “We were so worried” Logan recognizes the difference, it's softer and freer. Patton isn't checking every word that falls out of his mouth, its...childish almost. As opposed to how he speaks to his children or in court. Fascinating, Logan decides.

“Well I'm ok now padre, a little roughed up but nothing a Reial cant handle” Roman beams, Patton squeezes his hand. “Now, let's get-

“Roman?” No one heard him come in, his steps were so soft, so cautious. Patton and Logan jerk their heads towards the door a very stricken Virgil stands, his eyes fixated on the judge. “Y-you're…” He starts pushing past his shock and moving into the room. Logan and Patton share a thought before leaving the room, closing the door.

“I hear I have you to thank for m-” Being cut off by a hug was not...something Roman was against. Especially from Virgil, He hugs back not realizing exactly how terrified he felt until Virgil was practically clinging to him, afraid if he let go Roman might just slip through his fingers. “Virge-crushing...can't breathe” Roman tries, Virgil lets go frantically.

“Sorry, sorry” He checks himself, scanning Roman up and down. “I just...missed you” He admits, Roman laughs hiding his own blush. “How are you feeling?”

“Like someone poisoned me” Roman replies, Virgil gives a small smirk cocking his head. “If I wasn't so mad I would be pretty excited! Like talk about a mystery” Roman rants, the amount of relief Virgil feels cannot be described. “Hey…” Roman pouts examining the room, the cold walls swallowing his excitement “Where are the kiddos?” He pokes, Virgil smiles softly.

“Rem and Emile have them, I'll tell them you're awake...I'm sure they would all love to see you” He comforts, knowing he has to but hating the thought Virgil lets go of Romans hands, lingering maybe a little too long. He opens his phone sending a quite rushed text to Remy, his partner responding fast assuring him that they will be there soon, then once he regains his composure turns back to Roman. The judge stares at him, and for a moment it really is just them. “I should get Patton and Logan” Virgil coughs, oblivious he truly was.

“Right...right” Roman nods, avoiding Virgil's eyes, a disappointed gaze falling on the bed. The detective uses this as a cue to venture outside calling in his friends, they enter halting their conversation. “So what're the haps! What did I miss? C’mon pocket protector, anyone new in your life?” It just slipped out, Roman was still dealing with the debris of anesthesia. Logan froze, raising his eyebrows. Patton shifts uncomfortably sharing a glance with Virgil.

“I brought some treats!” Patton announces, hoping his voice isn't as shaky as it feels. The green-eyed monster is no fun, that's what Patton always told his kids. But the thought hadn't crossed his mind, what if Logan did have someone else? He would eventually, would he not? He would fall in love and…

“Treats!” Roman cheers, making grabby hands towards the snacks, clearly wanting to push away the previous interaction. Patton crosses the room ignoring the two pairs of eyes watching him handing Roman some delectable sweets. He fans himself quickly, wanting the amber color upon his face to leave. “I love food, I feel like I haven't eaten in ages” Roman stuffs some food in his mouth, chomping down even more. A chime from his phone distracts Virgil from the conversation.

“Hey, Remy and Emile just got here” Though fast, they were apparently on their way to the park so it made sense. Patton nods assuming he would be joining Virgil in his quest to recover the children. Roman sits up feeling discordant as Virgil prepares to leave, he makes no sound but his eyes say enough. “Ro, I'll be right back” He assures, Roman gives a grateful nod, returning to a comfortable position. Soon they left venturing through the harrowed halls to meet up with Remy and Emile.

“Roman...are you alright?” Logan checks, unlike the others he stands at the end of the bed. Roman takes a moment, sorting his own thoughts. His body feels off, he feels as though any remnants of adrenaline have just drained away.

“I think so?” Logan cocks his head trying to comprehend “I-i don't know, to be honest, I just feel...here” Roman motions to the bed, trying to grasp the concept. Logan takes a breath averting his eyes, he himself cant exactly connect to what Roman is saying or feeling but it wouldn't do him good to not try. He wants to continue the conversation, his friend clearly needing someone to talk to but it seems the deafening screams from down the hall have other ideas.

“Guys!” Patton cries in warning but the trio has other ideas. Damian wriggles free from Virgil's hold first unfortunately intercepted by Logan who scoops him up. The twins use this distraction to escape Emile and Patton's clutches but a newly freehanded Virgil stops them in their tracks. Damian balls his fists hitting an unaffected Logan in the shoulder, wishing nothing more than to be set free.

“Wanna ...see...RoRo” He begs in between each hit, Logan might have laughed it was such a soft touch. Virgil relinquishes hold over Remus giving him to a now recovered Patton. Roman, who has been gleefully but also nervously watching the collision, laughs. “Hnng!” Damian now tries a different approach, trying to push himself free of Logan.

“You guys have to be careful ok?” Patton informs, Logan gives a knowing look towards Damian who pouts in return. “One at a time, uncle Roman is very fragile right now” Patton advises, instantly the clamoring starts up again.

“I wanna go first!” Damian squeals raising his arms high

“No me!” Remus retorts squirming excessively in Patton's arms.

“He's my uncle!” Valerie argues, Virgil stifles a soft chuckle.

“Mine too!” Remus tells her, Valerie sticks her tongue out.

“He's my dad!” Damian shouts Virgil couldn't get much paler. Logan and Patton dart their eyes towards the very frozen father, Roman possibly a little too hopeful, looks too. Valerie takes this moment to jump on the bed as Virgil's grip loosened.

“Val careful!” Patton warns moving closer, Virgil shakes his head grounding himself. Valerie heeds her father's warning, moving slowly on the bed until she's safe in Romans arms, enveloped in a hug. Over the shoulder, the judge could see Logan watching wearily, but Roman knew what he felt now; Happy and relieved. That's how he always felt around the kids.

“How is my favorite princesa?” Roman asks as the hyper girl pulls away, sitting idle on the bed.

“I went trick-or-treating!” She manages, Roman grins allowing her to continue, “I was a princess warrior! And Remus was my duke-

“Hey! That's me!” Remus points out to his father, Patton nods laughing slightly. Remus removes his fingers from his mouth giving a slobbery wave to Roman. The judge waves back re-centering his attention to the patient girl.

“And Dee was a wizard! And Papa was a cat! And mister Logan was something called LoLo” Valerie shrugs, Patton and Virgil stifle laughs ushering their eyes away from a reddened Logan. “And then we had a big sleepover!” Valerie finishes throwing her triumphant hands in the air.

“That sounds awesome Val!” Roman notes and it did. It proved challenging for Roman to smile as he learned about everything he missed or was missed from. Valerie nods as Emile takes his cue to remove her from the bed. “Alright, who's next?” Roman jokes. Remus, who has been waiting quite frantically, pushes against Patton trying to steer him forward. Patton sighs deciding not to fight, he transfers his son to Roman who waits with open arms to retrieve the young boy.

“Hello!” Remus greets hugging Roman, the judge hugs back. Once separated neither say a word, Remus simply bounces excitedly. The room waits, Patton and Logan share a glance, Patton shrugs. “I didn't think this far” Remus admits after a moment, Roman falls against his pillow practically wheezing. “I'm done! Bye-bye uncle Ro!” Remus waves proceeding to make grabby hands towards his father. Logan sets Damian on the bed, he stands on the comfy mattress waddling around. Virgil sits at the end of the bed watching carefully.

“Heya Dee!” Roman catches the curious boys' attention, he smooths out a part of the sheets before plopping down. Patton yawns, somehow he must have lost himself tuning out the conversation. As it continues Patton excuses himself leaving Emile in charge of Remus.

Patton has been through these hallways more times than he should have, visiting, being a patient here, and of course...the birth of the twins. It was hard to associate happy or sad feelings when its been pretty balanced. He's been here enough to know it like the back of his hand, he knows that to get to the coffee cart he has to go through the nursery, which he has no qualms about.

He stops in front of the window waving sweetly to the newborns, some giggling, some resting some not so happy but still adorable. He spots the place where Remus and Valerie once were, now occupied by two equally adorable babies.

“Which one's yours?” A woman asks approaching, Patton moves aside politely smiling.

“Oh, I'm not- none...just reminiscing I guess,” He says, his eyes still fixed. “And you?”

“That one, to the left” She gestures, Patton's eyes fall onto a small baby, smaller than the rest. The label reads female yet no name has been written. “She's my life,” The mother tells, Patton knows the feeling, and he's said the words.

“She's beautiful, any ideas for her name?” Patton wonders, the woman sighs content.

“We were thinking…”

~~~

“...Valerie” Patton beams, he points to the baby in the next crib over “And that's Remus” He informs. He knows he should be giving his attention but he can't take his eyes off of them.

“Pat they're beautiful” Barbara swoons, waving brightly at the babies. “I'm sorry I missed the birth” She atones, Patton waves her off too happy to care. Patton takes a moment to breathe, placing his hands over his chest.

“Don't be, you're here now and that's what matters Babs” Patton assures, Barbara links her arms with his, resting her head on his shoulder. “Hey, you're an aunt now” Patton teases, Barbara gasps softly.

“Oh my! I guess I am” She jokes back, she swears Valerie smiled at her. “I'm sorry mom and dad arent here” She laments, Patton knew this was coming. Patton leans slightly, his head resting a bit on his sisters.

“You know they would if…” He trails off, Barbara sighs lifting herself. They both know exactly why they aren't there, it doesn't make it easier. Patton won't lie, he held out the slightest hope that maybe...just maybe they would put their opinions aside and come to see their grandchildren.

“I know” Barbara shakes her head, nudging Patton softly “Hey! Don't let that get you down, you have kids! Pat, this is all you've wanted for a long time and look at them, they're perfect” Baraba gushes, Patton laughs nodding. Barbara takes a look around the hallways “Hey, where's Liam?” Before Patton has a chance to respond, a new voice joins the mix.

“Probably off disappointing Jesus” Marcy quips handing Barbara and Patton their cups of coffee. Barbara frowns, nudging Marcy carefully. Marcy returns the gesture with a loving kiss on the cheek.

“Marce” She whispers, Marcy shrugs sipping from her own drink. “I'm sure he’ll be here” Barbara hopes, Marcy scoffs and Patton has to appreciate her honesty. No, he won't, Patton thinks but gives them both a grateful smile. “Where are the others?”

“Uh...Lo and Roman got held up in court, Virge is at a crime scene but he should be here soon” Patton scratches his head trying to recall the position of all his friends. “Emile and Remy stopped by earlier and went to go get some food for everyone” Patton finishes, Barbara and Marcy nod taking in the information.

“Just means more baby time for us” Barbara jokes, Patton chuckles “Have you held them?” She inquires, Patton releases a breath his shoulders fall.

“Yeah” He barely whispers “Yeah right after they were born, the doctor just…” Patton trails off staring at the twins with a look he would come to use many a time, lovingly he stares.

“I apologize for the interruption Mister Hart” Patton swerves turning to the doctor, she smiles at the other two. “Your husband has arrived” She informs leading them away, Patton huffs.

“He is not my husband” He retorts softly, Marcy takes his shoulders as they walk.

“That means you technically have full custody over the children, seeing as you are the legal guardian and the adoption papers have-” Marcy recites bluntly only stopping as Barbara pleads, Patton purses his lips nodding ‘thankfully’. “Apologies”

“Have I ever told you how much you remind me of Logan?” Patton remarks, should he be the person on his mind? Probably not but Patton couldn't wait for his friends to meet the twins.

“Oh…” Marcy sighs dryly “Wonderful”

“Don't sound so excited” Barbara comments following her wife and brother down the saddened halls.

~~~

“I'm getting really sick and tired of this” Remy sighs ushering himself under some yellow tape stepping into another apartment. Carlton laughs dryly following in after him, Remy chooses to ignore this furthering himself into the room.

“Detective Nyx, good to see you again” Talyn greets, Remy meets them halfway shaking their hand.

“Same goes for you, though I wish it was under uh...better less murderous circumstances” He admits only half-joking. Carlton squeezes past them examining the rest of the scene.

“Hows Emile?” They ask guiding Remy through the house, he shrugs, trying to avoid the uneasy perfection that the house maintains.

“Good, he's with my friend at the hospital so...if we could wrap this up?” He hopes, Talyn scoffs. “Yeah thought so” He mumbles to himself, Talyn finishes at the bodies. “Two bodies?”

“Seems like it, well my boys are basically done here so the crime scene is all yours” Talyn insists patting Remy a farewell leaving their notes on the table. Remy gives them a peace sign goodbye watching them go.

“Doesn't seem like his style” Carlton comments approaching Remy, the apartment falls silent as the last of the forensics team leaves. “Although recently nothing seems like his style” Carlton points out, Remy finally agrees.

“Tell me about it” Remy breathes, he kneels in front of the remains nothing but two letters stain the house with the memory. The memory of the treacherous acts committed here. “L…and...I” Remy notes scribbling the two letters down, Carlton looks around.

“Spell anything new?” He questions, Remy shuts his notes.

“I'll have to check when we get back to the precinct” Remy decides, he examines the rest of the floor, slowly moving around the walls and ceiling. Nothing is out of place, nothing is even touched. “I'm gonna update Virge, let him know what's happening” Remy informs Carlton, his fellow detective nods as Remy sends an informative text.

“Where is he by the way?” Carlton inquires

“Uh Roman woke up so I told him he should probably stay” Remy replies, Carlton stands after looking over the area.

“Oh that's good, did they ever figure out who poisoned him?” Carlton slips, he continues casually tracing the apartment. The next few moments become crucial. Remy nods slowly, making his way carefully to the door, praying Carlton stays turned around long enough. He opens the lock they had for safety, the click echoes through the apartment. What he did not expect was another click, a loud one, a clatter to the ground.

“We never told anyone he was poisoned” Remy bites, his breathing shallow. He turns to raise his hands above his head. He's stared down the barrel of a gun many times but never had he felt so much anger. And so stupid, how did he not see it?

“That's what tipped you off?” Carlton teases, he holds control now, he can say whatever. Remy seethes, he plays loosely with his fingers, inching closer to his own gun. Carlton smirks, his face morphing behind his own sunglasses. “Should've given you more credit, thinking Virgil would be the problem” Carlton laughs, it's sickly, could be the fumes but Remy claims it's his voice giving him a headache. “Took care of that…”

“What the fuck did you do?” Remy whispers viciously, Carlton tilts his head. Remy swallows his throat pushing the pain down as it travels.

“It's not what I did to him” Carlton adjusts the gun in his hand, it wouldn't sit still. Clearly, he wasn't comfortable with it, not his weapon of choice. “But poor Roman…”  He pouts mockingly “I was pretty upset when he came out alive, but then I realized I could get two birds with one stone”

“Why are you telling me this? I know I'm not walking out of here alive so why bother?” Remy begs, keeping his composure cool, he turns sharply to the door locking it. Carlton re-determines the power he holds but allows the motion. Remy doesn't want anyone else to suffer, anyone else to bleed red at the hands of someone who mocks their life.

“So you can die-” He clicks his gun again, Remy tries not to flinch but its so silent. The smallest noise feels like a flood into his ears. “With an ending, it would be unfair of me to...not tell you my happy ever after” Carlton jokes, Remy takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes. Even if just for a moment, to be anywhere but here. And asking why in the hell he didn't turn his ringer off. The buzzing itself was loud, but the cheery tune playing out was worse. Carlton glares, moving closer to the detective, he grabs Remy's phone from his holster, reading the caller ID.

“Carl-” Remy's desperate now

“Quiet,” He smiles, turning the phone to Remy “Looks like a murder a day, doesn't keep the doctor away” Remy fights to keep his breathing steady, as the illuminated photo of Emile flashes on screen. He remembers when he took that photo, their first date. Emile had spotted a dog, and his face just lit up, how could Remy not capture the moment? He's had it ever since, longing for simpler times, crazy what mortality can do to a person. “Pick it up, I don't need people worrying, and hey...if I hear even one falter” He warns, Remy exhales but takes the phone. His fingers trembling over the green light.

“Hey, Em...what's up?” He whispers, Carlton clears his throat. “What's up?” He asks clearly now, anything that was stuck in his throat, swallowed with any hope he had to survive and any hope to keep Emile as far away from this as he could manage.

“Rem! I have the best news” He knew it was coming, and yet… as soon as Emile's voice made its way through the phone, into Remy's ear, he couldn't. He held the phone away from his mouth, stifling very fearful sobs. “Remy? You still there? You alright?” A faded call.

“Y-yeah I'm ok...I'm ok, what's uh...what's the news?” He regains his posture, it's easy when Carlton's aim had not budged.

“The adoption agency! They called just now, someone picked us!” He exclaims, there really aren't words to describe the stabbing pain Remy felt. Carlton didn't even have to shoot the gun for Remy to feel the agony.  

“Someone...picked us?” He begs his voice remains so soft, Emile's delighted squeals from the other line confirming his question. “That's...that's wonderful Em…” He mutters, his lips pursed quickly. Just a little longer. Carlton gestures for him to hurry up. Impatient, Remy notes, great. If he wasn't so terrified, he would be pissed. This bitch, Remy thinks, surprisingly the familiarity calmed something in the detective. “Babe, I'm so sorry, I gotta go...new development and stuff” His voice is perfectly normal, perfectly calm, perfectly Remy. The same cannot be said for his face.

“Oh! Alright, well lunch tomorrow, and I'll see you tonight” No you won't “If you can make it home of course” I can't “Love you!” I love you so much. Remy holds the phone to his chest as the dial tone plays.

“So...its you” Remy states hearing the line go dead

“Not necessarily”

Well, shit

[gma-crafts]

The Purrposal

The biggest thanks to @iloveyou-3000 for beta-reading faster than I could say Boom! You’ve been such a big help! A big smooch to @robertdowneyjjr for being such a sweet co-parent to the feline trio - check out her fics about the catdad!ironhusbands linked below!

Word Count: 3,286 Warnings: just loads of fluff, “very soft and gay” - test readers Characters: James Rhodes, Tony Stark, and their cats Mochi, Susu and Jonathan Summary: Tony lost something. Rhodey offers his help. But sometimes you only know what you’ve been looking for when you find it.

*

“Honeeey?” “What?”  “Where’s my super suit?” “Whaaat??” 

“Where the hell did she go?” 

Rhodey drew his attention away from the movie he was watching. It’s not like he was able to actually concentrate on it anyway, ever since Tony slid into the room wearing his fuzzy socks  ten minutes ago, and started opening  drawers and doors, growing more and more frantic each time. Mochi, who had been sleeping on Rhodey’s lap, posing as a fluffy white bun, woke up from the ruckus and hopped off the couch to find a less noisy spot somewhere else in the house; and, honestly, Rhodey couldn’t blame her. 

“You good there, Tones?” He asked over his shoulder, though he doubted he’d get a proper answer. Ever since he and his boyfriend moved in together two years ago, those hectic outbursts with Tony forgetting about everything and everyone within a two-mile radius became one of the less pleasant parts of their everyday life. 

Don’t get him wrong, Rhodey loved waking up next to this beautiful disaster of a man, brushing back the mess of curls and watch those Bambi eyes flutter open. His military operations had him exposed to raw, untouched wilderness all over the planet, from desert sunrise to dusk setting over a snow-covered tundra. None of those ever had him stop and stare as when Tony’s soft, chocolatey gaze fell on him, spreading a warmth he almost felt physically. 

But while Rhodey was a romantic at heart, as well as hopelessly in love with his oldest friend, he also was a calm and rational man - you’d never see him run around like a headless chicken in search for anything. Whenever something would be misplaced (and Rhodey liked to make clear that he was in no way affiliated with losing it in the first place), he would track it down systematically. 

Tony, however, was different. He could hyper-fixate on a scientific concept for weeks, only to then revolutionize it in his basement workshop on a Friday afternoon. He kept track of  a multitude of important things with an ease Rhodey only could envy. But if Tony discovered his favourite hoodie, the Stark Tech drafts Pepper had been expecting for weeks or Jonathan’s catnip toy weren’t where he assumed they’d be, the genius was gone in no time. You could set a countdown from ninety seconds down and watch him turn from chill to hysteric once it hit zero. 

The time must’ve been up way before Tony dashed into their living room. Rhodey’s question went unheard and the bang of the highboard’s bottom drawer sounded particularly final. Rhodey hopped over the backrest with a small sigh - this goddamn hectic! - and squatted down next to one of the world’s richest people squirming on the ground, face pressed into the small gap between the expensive leather couch and the Italian oak floorboards , cooing and frolicking with a tremor in his voice that replaced Rhodey’s bewilderment with worry. 

“Care to tell me what you’re looking for?” 

“-t now, she’s gotta be here somewhere, f'god’s sake..”, came the muffled response. Rhodey gave his nose a small rub with his knuckle, more to gather himself than  to cure an itch; he then hooked his fingers in the belt loops of Tony’s cargo pants and tugged him closer, ignoring the small yelp of protest, and cupped his boyfriend’s face firmly. Rhodey would tear up over the pout Tony sported later, he had to remain serious now. 

“Babe. We talked about this. Stop making yourself all panicky and tell me what’s up.” Rhodey emphasized every sentence with planting a kiss on the absolute mess of curls, and with each, Tony’s grip on his wrists loosened a little. Finally he let some of his tension slip and leaned into Rhodey’s touch, still a bit out of breath from crawling all over the floor. His eyes were suspiciously bright when he finally answered.

“It’s Susu. I can’t find her! I looked for her all day, went through every room twice, I checked the laundry, all the drawers, I shook the treat box til I spilt half of them on the stairs, JARVIS went through the tapes for the last 48 hours, I checked all the beds and scratch trees. She. Is. Gone.” He huffed and slumped down against Rhodey’s chest, who immediately wound him into a hug. 

“I lost my baby, Platypus. Probably locked her out days ago without even noticing and now she got run over by a car or froze to death or the Chitauri abducted her to-” 

“Tony”, he cut off his boyfriend’s ramblings “First of all, nobody freezes to death in Malibu, especially not in June. Second of all, if she really had gotten lost outside, JARVIS wouldn’t have tracked her chip to still be inside this house. That was the very first thing you told him to do, remember?” 

Tony nodded, his hair tickling Rhodey’s cheek. “Remind me to enhance the accuracy down to the very inch she’s standing on”, he mumbled against his boyfriend’s shoulder, hands gripping tighter on the fabric of Rhodey’s henley, his cheek vibrating from the chuckle the taller man let out. 

“Anything, babe . But first let’s get you a snack and some water. Something’s telling me you haven’t eaten all day. And then we’ll find Susu together.” 

Tony frowned at that suggestion, and Rhodey would’ve laughed out loud ‘cause it made him look so much like that genius, stubborn teenage boy that burst into his dorm room years ago, throwing his world upside down. Instead, he just smiled into Tony’s disastrous bedhead one last time before urging him towards the pantry. 

Five minutes later, a granola-munching Tony followed Rhodey around as they searched for the smallest member of their feline bunch. It’s been almost a year since the two of them had adopted the pitch-black ball of fluff along with their oldest cat, Jonathan. Officially, they were brought into their little family to keep their first furbaby, Mochi, company; in reality, Rhodey had suggested taking in another cat after Mochi declared him his favourite person, and after Tony became less and less efficient in hiding that he was genuinely hurt by this decision. 

While Jonathan never missed the opportunity to strut all over Tony’s face with a satisfied purr every morning, Susu and him grew especially close. Of course, Tony turned down any attempt of Rhodey’s to point out how much alike they were - tiny, soft, energetic bundles of joy, always on the jump to their next adventure, experiencing the world around them with a mind so sharp and a curiosity so insatiable Rhodey gave up on trying to understand them long ago. And every time  he thought he finally had it sorted out, discovered the pattern, they’d turn around and surprise him with an entire new facette. But yeah, he was totally making all of that up. 

They decided to start with their bedroom, since this was where Susu was most likely to be found - if she wasn’t napping in one of the twelve cat beds scattered in Tony’s workshop. While both Jonathan and Mochi mastered the art of coincidentally wanting to take a nap in the room you were already in, Susu never made her affection for Tony a secret. Rhodey often caught her checking in on Tony between naps with her high-pitched meows, her soft purrs, sometimes shamelessly bumping her head into his arm until he caved in and gave her some much-needed  belly rubs. Those two chaotic goblins clinging to each other like conjoined twins made it even more suspicious that Susu hadn’t been seen for some hours now. 

Rhodey tried his best to hide that he began to worry about the kitten’s sudden disappearance. With Tony still padding along behind him, he entered the bedroom and decided to start his search counterclockwise. Rhodey made sure to include Tony as best as he could, make him feel useful and not spiral further down; he asked him to hold up the sheets while he tried to squeeze under the bed with soft coos, or made Tony get the treats while he went through the first third of their wardrobe. Tony did as he was told, way calmer now as if Rhodey’s presence alone helped him to not lose his marbles. 

He was in the middle of searching the top of their wardrobe as well as the upper compartments, when Rhodey heard a soft “Oh!” from across the room, where their dresser stood. He half jumped, half tumbled down the chair he was standing on and hurried over to where Tony hunched over the second to bottom drawer - the one with the old shirts Tony wore in his workshop. Rhodey sat down next to him, hand reaching to pull his boyfriend into a comforting hug, when he caught a glimpse of why Tony was on the verge of crying. 

Two very yellow, very sleepy-looking spots were blinking up to him from between two stacks of black shirts. He now realized that Tony wasn’t sobbing, but non-stop mumbling to the little black cat squeezed into the already crammed drawer; a wild mix of profanities and affectionate murmurs. Rhodey let out a sigh of relief and reached over Tony’s shoulder to scratch Susu’s ear, much to her delight. 

“-was so worried you stupid tiny fur noodle… checked this drawer like three times and you didn’t even wake up”, his boyfriend croaked and quickly wiped his face with his sleeve, before bending down and planting a big smooch on the kitten’s head. Susu responded with a friendly mewl and nuzzled her face against Tony’s cheek as if she hadn’t been M.I.A. for the past few hours, as if she was just checking in on him as usual, and yeah, now Tony cried. 

Carefully he wiggled his hands around Susu’s tummy, lifting her a bit before placing one hand underneath her hind legs for support. But Susu, who had been fast asleep not even two minutes ago, wasn’t so eager to leave her hideout yet, and when Tony pulled her closer to his chest, two of the shirts came along with the cat, attached to her claws only by a couple of threads. And with the shirts and a small thud, something else fell to the floor, and Rhodey’s heart jumped to his throat. 

“What’s that? You’ve been hoarding treasures in there, you stinky gremlin?”, Tony cooed, Susu pressed against him with one hand as he leaned down. Rhodey suppressed a small yelp; he had forgotten what he had put in that drawer until now. He tried to snatch it before Tony could see what it was, but both his hands had been too busy with running his boyfriend’s back up and down in soothing circles. A slim, calloused hand closed around the fine leather, and the soft words muttered into the kitten’s fur faded into silence. 

Rhodey waited for a reaction, any reaction, but Tony just sort of froze, staring at the box he held, dumbstruck. He had no doubt Tony recognized the logo embossed into the lid immediately, connected the dots, and the longer the only audible sound was Susu purring like a fuzzy Bentley, the more anxious he became.  

“Rhodey, is this what I think it is?” He didn’t look at the taller man, just slowly turned the box over and over in his hand, brows furrowed. Well, that wasn’t exactly a No, right? With gentle fingers Rhodey took the box from Tony’s grasp and flipped the lid open with his thumb, his eyes not leaving Tony’s face. 

The frown slipped off his boyfriend’s features like a heap of snow from a rooftop, his eyes glistening with emotion and a sob tugging on the corner of his mouth. Tony lifted Susu a bit higher, buried his face in her fur for a second before he gently sat her down on the dresser, and reached to touch the slim metal band sitting in a bed of dark velvet. 

“It’s made from our suits’ old chest plates. Y’know, that ‘piece of my heart’ thing. It’s sappy I know, but I liked it better than some fancy white gold or platinum,” Rhodey explained, more to calm his nerves than to actually share the info. Tony remained quiet, his thumb brushing over the anthracite metal, separated by a thin line of hot rod red and the tiny aquamarine sitting on top of it. Was that a smile? Yeah, but a sad one. Rhodey waited in anticipation for Tony to say something. 

“I, um… I guess you want to keep that now.” Rhodey’s heart death-dropped from his throat to the soles of his feet. What? 

“Tones, what are you talking about?” While he spoke, he set down the ring box on top of the dresser, where Susu gave it a curious sniff. 

“I spent way more time on coming up with the perfect moment to give it to you than I’m willing to admit. The only reason I haven’t asked to put it on your finger yet is ‘cause I’m having the hardest time finding words for just how much I love you, and how happy it’d make me to be at your side, as your husband.“ 

Tony still didn’t look at him, arms wrapped around himself tightly and, oh no, Rhodey knew what that meant. They were back to spiraling, but the different kind. Quickly he closed the gap between them, his hands squeezing into the space between Tony’s biceps and ribs, gently forcing his crossed arms apart. The smaller man giggled involuntarily, and shied away from getting wound into yet another hug, but Rhodey wasn’t having any of it; his hands remaining on Tony’s waist, he pushed slowly, but firmly, until his boyfriend had to give in to the pressure. 

Stumbling backwards until he hit the bed, Tony found himself harboured in by Rhodey’s arms on either side of his face, anchored down by the taller man hovering over him, so close he could feel Rhodey’s warm breath on his neck. It was hard letting your insecurities take the best of you, when the man you loved smiled down at you warm and tender like that. 

Tony had a history with pushing through hard times alone, no one there to offer him comfort, even if he had been able to ask for it. Rhodey knew that isolating himself became one of Tony’s default responses to emotional stress, and he tried his best to let him know, at least physically, that he didn’t need to endure everything alone. Little did he know that for Tony, every kiss and every hug felt like a heating pad on an aching muscle. 

"Tony. You’re the most brilliant yet most dense man I’ve ever met. Honestly, who looks at an engagement ring and goes ‘Oh, whoops! Must’ve been a mistake, that can’t possibly be for me’? I’ve spent years trying to figure out how that beautiful mind of yours works, and all it got me was a thinning hairline. So, Tones. Babe. Tell me what on earth makes you think I wouldn’t wanna marry you right here, right now?" 

Tony squirmed around beneath him, his eyes glistening again; Rhodey didn’t move an inch. They’d talk this out, and they’d do it now, before Tony fled into his workshop and had JARVIS lock him out for three days straight. 

"I- it’s just…”, Tony started, rather at a loss of words than reluctant to open up to his boyfriend; but eventually, the dam broke. 

“I don’t see how you could possibly wanna marry me after I spent all day going bonkers over a cat, after I roamed the entire house twice, like an idiot, cried about seven times and didn’t even think of asking you for help 'til you physically dragged me away from crawling underneath the couch and- and”, he caught a quick breath, before continuing twice as fast “And I’m clearly not fit to be a good and supportive husband to you when I can’t even keep my shit together over a trifle like this, and just bottle up instead of asking for help, when I disappointed you and Susu with acting like an actual five-year-old and I don’t even know wh-" 

The rest of the sentence was muffled by Rhodey’s lips on his, taking the breath for further rambling straight out of his lungs. The first sobs escaped Tony, and Rhodey switched to covering his face with pecks, kissing away the tear on his temple, brushing a thumb over the corner of his mouth until it lifted up into a tiny smile. Underneath him, Tony’s body was pliant now, and he just let Rhodey shield him from the world. 

“Sweetheart. Dearest idiot mechanic. You may have synthesized a new element, but being brilliant apparently made you forget that you threw no less than seven birthday parties for your bots. And that I attended all of them. Going feral over a missing cat is not what makes me love you less, it’s what made me fall for you in the first place. You care about things most people wouldn’t even notice. The only idiot here? Clearly me for waiting so long with proposing and finally make you mine, with all your quirks. If you want, that is,” he added quickly. 

And now Tony beamed, and he sobbed, and he hiccuped all at once, and goodness gracious how did he manage to look so disastrous yet so beautiful, Rhodey would never get used to this. Slender fingers tugged on his neck, pulling him into another kiss. 

“Of course I wanna marry my Platypus. ‘course I wanna be yours”, Tony muttered against his lips, the tears rolling down his face not only his now. Rhodey smiled into the kiss, hands finding their way into Tony’s hair, lips trailing down the arch of Tony’s neck like they did countless times before. And when he got a soft, delicate moan as an answer it really couldn’t get any better- Only that it could. 

“Hang in there for a sec”, Rhodey muttered and got up, scurrying over to where he left the ring on the dresser, with Susu guarding it like a fluffy loaf of bread. He reached for the box when a streak of muffled cusses erupted behind him. 

“G’dammit Jonathan! Off my face you fuzzy bastard I’m. Not. Catnip!” 

Rhodey turned around just in time to see the big grey tabby stretching out contentedly all over Tony’s head, as if he were his favourite toy. Tony’s efforts to get Jonathan off of him were sabotaged by Mochi, who had entered the room along with the older cat, and now took a seat on Tonys arm, making it useless in the man’s attempt to not suffocate. Rhodey grabbed both Susu and the box and hurried over to save his boyfriend - no! - his fiance. 

“Didn’t strike you as the one to wear fur, Tones”, he quipped as he lifted the tabby off of Tony. Jonathan shot him a disgraceful look, before he scattered off to see if he could find some more of the treats Tony spilt earlier; Mochi and Susu followed heel. While Tony sat up and wiped the cat hair off his face with his shirt, Rhodey smiled down on him, opening the box once more to finally place the ring where it belonged. The small ‘click’ made Tony look up; and when Rhodey reached for his hand, and the cool metal settled against his flesh, his smile didn’t falter for a second. 

“So, Babe,” Rhodey spoke after a minute of silence. He leaned forward until their lips met, softly pushing further, and Tony let himself sink back all too willingly. “Wanna pick up where we left off?”