#i just think it’d be kind of neat ? maybe

[quibbs126]

Random thing but I had a thought

So the Vanillians we know wrap their freshly baked Cookies in waffle cones. So what if there was somewhere that wrapped their kids in tortillas like burritos?

[malusienki]

wooot!!

[chilschuck]

— ONLY IF YOU’D LIKE ME TO:

(I COULD FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU.) ♡ chilchuck x gn!reader.

꒰ warnings: ꒱ sfw, ment. of n//edles (the sewing kind, lol).

꒰ wc: ꒱ 809 words. just a drabble!

꒰ note: ꒱ guys i can’t stop thinking about this repressed-emotions-having-ass man. i wanted to write something with the song “clusterhug” by iDKHOW as inspo. i don’t know if i like this or not, so maybe i’ll delete it later. i took inspiration from the mimic chapter in the manga. sorry if it’s a bit ooc, i just kinda let my heart go with this one. i hope you enjoy!

Little things lead up to big ones. In other words, small acts of kindness become forces to be reckoned with. There’s only so much someone can do to brace themselves for the impact of falling in love, which Chilchuck had learned the hard way. His efforts to keep work and private life separate were not enough. Despite his measures at bracing himself, the problem seemed to somehow build itself into something he just couldn’t fight; something he knows he’s not skilled at.

Your touch, so gentle when handling his wounds compared to others, was the first hit to his willpower. Chilchuck was used to leading and making sure others were safe in their steps, but even then he felt he couldn’t hold a candle to you. If there’s one thing you did for the party that he considered your skill, it was being a source of light. A source of delicate touches in which he had forgotten he craved.

Chilchuck believes he could blame this all on that single encounter with that mimic. You had beat Marcille to him, immediately dropping to your knees and making sure he was safe. The cut on his cheek was handled easily with delicate touches and small tuts under your breath. “I’m sorry,” he heard you murmur. “Someone should’ve gone with you.” The cloth in your hand did not bring as much relief to his wounds as your presence seemed to.

Later, he had tried to distract himself by mending his clothes, stitching the rifts in the fabric with precise hands. It was best to stay focused and squander any emotions he considered useless. The greater the attempt, though, the harder it came back to bite him in the ass. This was only one of many things he had to learn the hard way.

“Your stitches are really neat,” You had commented in that gentle voice of yours, the same pitch you always spoke in. It wasn’t syrupy sweet, but delicate in ways he couldn’t understand. It wrapped around his brain and inched into his chest. “It’s entrancing to watch you work.”

I could say the same about you, he could say. He pictured your bashful smile. Chilchuck reminded himself to breathe. You’re entrancing in ways I can’t explain.

There was something about your gaze that made him feel like the room rose in temperature. Rolling his shoulders, he flicked his eyes up to yours.

“Just something I had to learn.”

Just like the fact that you were winding your way around his heart. Could he even begin to comprehend what you were doing to him, what you were making him feel? The depth at which you were breaking his walls down scared him. Even the thought that maybe, just maybe, you reserved those sweet looks just for him sent him over the edge.

“You should teach me one day.” You whispered.

Only if you’d like me too. He could mumble back instantly. You waited patiently, smiling at him. He swallowed.

“Yeah, sure. Here.”

His fingers brushed against yours, the green fabric resting in your hands. Chilchuck held the needle, watching the thread cascade before setting it into your palm.

“I can teach you.”

Gods, don’t look at him like that. Don’t ever beam like that, not when he’s so close and looking over your shoulder as you thread the needle.

“There, now pull it through. Make sure the stitch isn’t loose.” You did as he asked, waiting for his next instruction. When you lit up at the progress, the rip shrinking in the scarf, he couldn’t help but smile.

Maybe while you’re at it, you could stitch up the rifts in his heart he let grow. He knew if anyone could, it’d be you. But before he knew it, you had repaired the hole, holding it up proudly.

“Thank you, Chilchuck! Now I can help next time, too.” You folded it, placing it into his hands. He felt his ears burn. There was something about how thankful you were to everyone, him included. Another shot to his willpower. It’s not like he really even did anything… It’s something anyone could learn.

Even then, as your attention was called upon by Marcille, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Gaze locked on the fabric in his hands, he let himself get lost in thought while you watched Senshi and Laios prepare the next meal. If you kept shining so bright like that, he’d have no choice but to fall in love with you. There’s only so much kindness he could handle from you. You were giving him no choice but to swallow his pride and reconsider everything he knew about living a double life like this. Could he really make you happy?

Only if you’d like him to, he let his heart say. Whether or not he would listen is for time to tell. He could fall in love with you.

[sepublic]

As I talk about Luz visiting a host culture and learning to appreciate it, to respect and submit to the grace of her hosts, I think there’s similar potential in Vee doing the same in a reverse way; She’s a demon entering the human world, she’s engaging in human culture and learns how to be human on their terms.

Now granted, some of that human culture Vee encounters has issues of assimilation and imperialism and the like, so the onus on Vee to be respectful is much smaller. Plus she’s a refugee who had little choice, persecuted by an older branch of that culture in Belos, so really she’s entitled to do as she pleases with Gravesfield; She’s not like the Coven Heads, who expected to fuse the realms, and be treated like royalty for it by both inhabitants.

But then we get to the Noceda family, who aren’t from there, who are Dominican immigrants, whose forebearers come from a country that struggles with imperialism, whose struggles in this American society hearken back to that. With Luz needing to learn magic on the terms of the witches and the Titan and whatnot, I think there’s potential in Vee acclimating herself to the Nocedas’ Dominican customs, learning Spanish, all of that. Camila very much chose to adopt this scared child who had to go along to survive, but it’d be neat to explore Vee understanding Luz in hindsight, and how her decision to leave home was informed by racism and other factors.

Like imagine Vee getting to apologize/make it up to Luz for saying she had it good and abandoned her mother for nothing; Imagine Vee reflecting on how she didn’t even want to be here specifically, just away from someplace else so she could survive. But now Vee can catch her breath and find stability, so now what? Does she do the same as Luz and embrace another world?

Imagine Vee taking Spanish lessons, imagine Vee partaking in the family traditions and music and culture. Appreciating what the Dominican heritage that adopted her is like. Being grateful to be included, wondering if she even belongs or deserves to, if she’s just an impersonating thief like her creator. Eda tells Luz to her own kind of witch, maybe Luz and Camila comfort Vee in a similar way.

I can see it being a touchy subject that requires care, but it could be something the Noceda sisters bond over, that question if they really belong and if their presence is inherently harmful; Luz wanting to do her witch fantasy led her to helping Belos find what he needed to become an emperor and enact the draining spell, to establish a genocidal regime.

Vee stole Luz’s life and contributed to a lie that devastated Camila when she found out, created a temporary rift between mother and daughter that contributed so much to Luz’s suicidal depression, which of course pained Camila. Luz and Vee both hurt people who took them in, who they grew to love and vice versa, without meaning to in a grand butterfly effect.

Because again, people understand Luz, a lot more than she realizes, it’s her greatest comfort, a fantasy even deeper than being Azura because even that was about finding people who shared the same interest in magic as her. Camila knows what it’s like to make mistakes, Willow knows what it’s like struggling to be the perfect friend everyone can depend upon; Amity knows what it’s like to hide your greatest sin for fear your new friend will reject you for it. Etc.

So Vee knows what it’s like to have to leave a place, finding a new one, stumbling your way into the arms of a mother and learning enthusiastically about how to be this world’s people as you make friends from them. But all the while you question yourself if you belong, if you’re some impersonating thief. Luz saw herself in Belos, maybe Vee saw herself in other white colonizers like him, the ones who came shortly before in conquering the Americas, contributing to the Dominican culture as a side-effect.

Vee’s ability to shapeshift could make her ask, Am I just an imitator? This makes me think of how Hunter is really good for episodes where he and another character bond over similarities; We were both cloned by Belos to aid in his genocide (While Hunter was technically in the spotlight and meant to be a nephew, Vee was hidden at all times and a loathsome tool). We both feel the weight of being colonial in some regard. We both have to rely on the identities of others, so who does that make us? In a timeline where Gus was not as mindful about the Grimwalker secret, I could see Vee helping Gus with Hunter’s clone angst.

And if there’d been more time, maybe Vee could’ve helped Luz with her own guilt, her own worry of being an outsider who doesn’t belong and is inherently harmful whether she means to be or not. Camila could bring up Vee and say that it’s not the same, there’s a difference between an immigrant and a colonizer, esp when the native chooses to accept. And Vee would feel validation as an example, but still wonder anyway. Shouldn’t they be conscious of it?

But maybe that’s what they’ve already done, with Luz learning to earn magic the way wild witches do, treating witches and demons as people and not side character tropes in her story. Those friends affirm that she’s already done the work, and the butterfly effect of being manipulated is not equivalent to malicious, intentional colonization. And if Vee feels she hasn’t done it, she can begin now, when it comes to Dominican culture and being a Noceda. And the Nocedas have always loved weirdness, so Vee’s already halfway there! Manny would’ve loved her and appreciated the joy Vee brought to his family.

Between everything that needed to be established for the plot and for Luz’s own depression, plus clone troubles, and Camila’s backstory and like. Yeah there was no time for a Vee storyline like this when Luz was isolating herself the whole time, and would only start to let people in when she was returning to the Demon Realm or was there. But imagine a full S3 where we could’ve it all…

This could make good grounds for a fanfic, the Noceda sisters bonding. It’d have to take some cultural sensitivity that the characters would have in-universe, but a writer might struggle out-of-universe. I could see this being after the finale, when Luz has a relapse because that’s always a possibility and has happened before; And for Vee, her storyline isn’t necessarily addressed and they can both bond over a shared fear together!!!

[brahmsthirdracket]

Hello! I recently came across your hughes brothers fics and binge read most of them last night :). Would you be open to writing anything about the time Luke said quinn ripped jack’s braces out of his mouth? (If you’re not taking requests feel free to ignore this!!!)

Luke never feels like eating much before cross-country. He likes it fine - he likes it more than fine actually, at least compared to Jack and Quinn, because it’s one of the few things he’s better at than them - but the thought of slogging it through the mud straight after breakfast makes his stomach roll.

He swirls his spoon around his bowl of cereal instead, trying to corral his Cheerios into a pleasing formation. He’s got a kind of Great Lakes thing going on but he’s eaten Lake Superior and it’s doesn’t really make sense for the milk to be the land and - 

“Time to go, kiddos!”

He swallows Lakes Erie, Michigan, Huron and Ontario, and the surrounding landmass with a grimace, and shuffles into the hall. Jack and Quinn are already sitting on the stairs wearing matching fleecy headbands and looking miserable. 

“It’s cold,” Jack whines. 

“Run faster then,” their mom says, rummaging through her purse. “You’ll soon warm up.” She looks real pretty today, Luke thinks. Like maybe she did her hair extra nice or something. He pulls his headband on and sits on the bottom step, cheek resting on Quinn’s knee, to wait. 

“Jim!” she bellows. “Hurry up! I’m already running late!” 

“For what?” Their dad’s head appears through the basement door, followed by his golf clubs and then the rest of him. “Where are you going?”

“Where are you going?”

“The PTA fall fundraiser,” says his mom, at the same time his dad says, “Golf.” 

“It’s on the calendar,” they both say at the same time. 

“Well, you’ll have to reschedule,” says his mom in that voice that means no arguing. “Boys have a meet in Sunnybrook.” 

“But -” splutters his dad. “I can’t reschedule. I put it on the calendar, like you told me to.” He lowers his voice, pleading. “El, it’s with the guys.”

“It’s okay mom,” says Quinn, standing up to lean over the bannister and pat her shoulder consolingly. “We’ll miss cross-country this one time.” 

“Let me see this,” she growls, and they all trot into the kitchen after her to peer at her Wildflowers of Texas calendar. 

Fall Fundraiser shift 9-12 is written in today’s box in his mom’s neat handwriting, and below that: 

Q, J & L Prep 2 XC 9am (don’t forget headbands!!)

Someone’s drawn a skull next to cross-country, almost- but-not-quite obscuring a tiny and unmistakable golf printed right at the bottom. 

“See?” says his dad, jabbing a finger at it. 

“Well, just go after the race and take the boys with you,” she says, already fishing out her car keys. 

“But - tee time is at nine! Ellen!” 

“It’d better be a quick race then, hadn’t it?”

She kisses each of them, pinching Jack’s scowling face and adjusting Quinn’s headband. Luke turns his face into her fleeting pat on the cheek before she’s out the door in a waft of perfume.

“Run fast and don’t fall in the lake!” she calls ominously over her shoulder, just before the door swings shut behind her. 

Their dad waits for her SUV to pull out of the drive and down the road before he flicks the curtain back into place and motions for them all to huddle in. 

“Come here, rink rats.” He tugs them in close, lowers his voice like he’s about to reveal some top-secret play. “And listen up. This is the plan.”

***

The plan turns out to be the ODR, a bag of pucks and a cheery, “I’ll pick you up in a coupla hours!” before Luke’s even out of the car. 

Jack whoops with happiness the minute he hits the ice, spinning and sending the pucks scattering in every direction. Quinn’s right behind him, thwacking puck after puck into the net. 

“Fuck.” Thwack “Cross.” Thwack “Countryyyyy.” Thwack

“Forever,” Jack sing-songs, sweeping one up onto his stick and slinging it through the air. It bounces off the metal with a twang.

“C’mon Lukey,” he calls, scuffling playfully against Quinn. “Don’t pretend you actually like that shit.”

Luke tries to sulk for a bit, taking his time with his laces. His brothers hadn't even laced them up for him, which, rude. But it’s a perfect November morning, as crisp and perfect as a snowglobe before you turn it upside down. They’ve got the whole rink to themselves. It’s been way too long since they did this: no adults, no cones or drills or gear, just the three of them together, playing hockey. 

“Yeah, well some of us can actually outrun old ladies pushing little dogs in strollers,” he chirps, darting out into the middle. 

Quinn and Jack exchange a look. “Get ‘im,” growls Quinn, with a wolfish grin, lurching towards Luke and trying to hook him in with his stick. Luke squeals, twisting away and rocketing as fast as he can up to the other end of the rink, Jack in hot pursuit. They chase him all over, dodging pucks and their abandoned sticks and gloves, until they’re all wheezing with giggles. Quinn eventually manages to get an arm around his neck from behind and pull them both down and Jack belly-flops on top. 

“One day,” Luke pants from the bottom of the dogpile, trying to knee Quinn in the balls so he’ll let him up and getting a facewash for his troubles, “I’m gonna be bigger and faster than both of you.” 

“But until that day,” Quinn replies, finally rolling off and tugging Luke to his feet, “You can get in goal.” 

They play shinny until they’re hot under their sweatshirts and jerseys, hair sticking to their foreheads and breath coming in short pants, and Luke thinks he’s never had so much fun playing hockey, playing anything. It’s hard though, just as gut-churning as a whole weekend tournament or relentless drills in the basement with his dad. Jack and Quinn never give an inch, never care that he’s smaller and younger when it comes to this, and he loves them for it, because when victory comes, he knows he’s earned it. They push each other just as hard, sometimes too hard Luke thinks, watching Jack cuss and elbow Quinn in the gut as they're scrabbling against the boards. Quinn shoves his face back, and the next minute they’re rolling around on the ice in one of their completely shitty fistfights. 

Luke hovers next to them, glancing around and praying no one he knows from school is about to walk past. 

“Stop. Trying. To. Bite.” pants out Quinn. He’s managed to roll over and pin Jack with his weight, and is trying to push his face away. Jack’s a slippery eel though - especially when he’s an eel on ice - and he seems to be trying to lick Quinn to get him off. Which is not a tactic Luke would use himself, honestly, but whatever works he guesses. It must work, because he manages to sink his teeth into Quinn’s forearm and they’re rolling all over the place, gloves and sticks forgotten - thank God. What happens next is a blur of flying arms and legs (and in Jack’s case teeth, the weirdo), but suddenly Jack lets out a shriek of pain - a real one - and Quinn lets go of him like he’s been burned. 

Jack curls up, one hand over his mouth, and whimpers into his knees. 

“Jack? What’s wrong?” Quinn tries to make him look up, pull his hand down. Jack’s eyes are huge with unshed tears. “Jackie?” Quinn asks again, really worried now.

“Um,” says Luke. He squats down next to Jack and picks up the little piece of metal off the ice. Cradling it in his glove, he holds it out to Jack, who gazes at it for a moment and then promptly socks Quinn square in the jaw. 

***

“Someone’s arm better be hanging off,” growls their father when he pulls up to the curb they’re huddled next to and flings the car door open. Luke wordlessly holds out the braces to him. “The fuck is that?” 

“Jack’s braces,” mumbles Quinn, with a guilty glance at the unhappy figure hunched on the other side of the lot. 

“Jack has braces?” Sometimes Luke thinks he could grow a tail and his dad wouldn’t notice unless it affected his play. Last week he had to check Quinn’s date of birth so he could fill out some paperwork.

“He doesn’t anymore, Dad,” Luke pipes up. 

“Jack! Get over here!” he bellows. He takes the braces from Luke’s hand, holding them up for a better view. “These things just click back into place or what?” Jack stomps over, scowling and sniffing. He won’t even look at Quinn, and when Quinn tries to reach out his hand Jack smacks it away viciously. 

“Fuck off.”

Their dad gets a handful of Jack’s jersey and tries to prise his mouth open like he’s a dog that’s eaten something bad. “Oww", whines Jack, trying to twist out of his grip. “You’re hurting me!”

“Open. Up.” Their dad grunts, trying to push the braces back across Jack’s front teeth with one hand, and hold him still with the other. 

“Dad, no! Stop!” Quinn pushes himself between them, trying to protect Jack from being force-fed a mouthful of metal. “You can’t do that! We have to go to the orthodontist.”

“The what?” he pants, temporarily letting go of Jack to turn the metal round, as if the reason he couldn’t fit them back on like Lego was that they were upside down. Jack immediately darts behind Quinn and Luke reaches up to swipe them out of their Dad’s hand. 

“Dad,” he says, more bravely than he feels. “I think you need to call Mom.”

The three of them huddle together on the backseat, trying to stay as quiet and inconspicuous as possible as their dad calls their mom for instruction. Luke finds a packet of half-eaten Reese’s pumpkins, no worse for being frozen and unfrozen a few times and settles in for the long-haul. Jack slumps sideways with his head in Quinn’s lap, playing with the strings of his sweatshirt and allowing Quinn to scratch behind his ear in apology.

She’s ominously silent all the way through the slightly edited version of what happened, not even interrupting to yell at Quinn. 

“So let me get this straight,” she says, after a pause. “You didn’t take your sons to their scheduled sports-activity but instead took yourself to golf and allowed said sons out unsupervised to publicly brawl, causing hundreds of dollars of dental bills?” 

“It was on the calendar! It was on the calendar Ellen!” 

“Well Jim Hughes, all I will say is thank God for Canadian healthcare.”

“They cover braces?” says his dad, perking up. He twists round to waggle his eyebrows at them, all looks like we got away with it.

“Oh no,” she says airily. “I meant for you four, when I’ve finished with you!”

[piratefishmama]

I Wish | Part 6

It was a clean sweep, the guys called it quick enough, which was disappointing for Eddie since he’d never come across a monster quite like the beast he had to play with, but no amount of quick thinking from his band mates could save them from the untimely demise of their characters.

They didn’t have enough spell slots, hit points were straggling, their potions mysteriously vanished, the weaponry they were sure they had in reserves had been used, and only one real lucky saving throw wasn’t enough to save them the following turn.

The False Hydra lurking in the cliffside caves of Rainwund snatching sailors, their ships, townsfolk, and livestock got them. Each and every one of them.

They knew what it was too early though, with Eddie’s flippant dismissal of characters his bandmates were supposed to know, his adamant insistence that no, the town was always that quiet the hell are you talking about, Gare?

Jeff made a spot on educated guess.

It still hadn’t saved them in the end, Dougie’s character lost first with a frankly dreadful saving throw, followed by Gareth’s own little gnome who lasted one full turn longer than he should have, and then finally Jeff himself, but he’d called it. Eddie knew his own friends back home wouldn’t be so quick to catch on, which was the only saving grace for this short jaunt into futuristic DND possibilities.

He could completely blindside his friends.

Probably for the best given this whole thing was meant to fit into a neat little segment on a talk show. Not to span across hours and hours of gameplay, they were already cutting it close to too long.

So, Eddie wrapped it up. With Jeff’s demise, Eddie rose to his feet, arms extending in a great sweeping arc “You fought bravely, oh daring soldiers of ill-fate, however upon this sorrowful day, the town of Rainwund was lost to the song of the False Hydra, it, and it’s victims, would be forgotten by the world and all who walk upon it. Perhaps one day, one fateful day, a new team of would-be heroes will find and defeat this deadly foe, but until then… I humbly bid you fallen soldiers, a peaceful journey to the great beyond.”

The lights dimmed, and for a moment, there was silence while set personnel found their places, then the lights overhead relit with the cameras refocused on the desk and chairs, where Jimmy had relocated.

“Everyone give a big hand to the members of Corroded Coffin!” Applause and cheers rang through the studio, over which he made quick work of reiterating album release dates for them, followed by a quick request of, “stay tuned after the break we’re joined by the cast of MARVEL’s new—” Eddie tuned him out for the rest of it, they were being guided off by stage crew, their segment was over, it was done.

The bubble of imagination popped, the activity giving Eddie a modicum of comfort was over and done with, and maybe he’d stretched it on just a little longer than necessary with peppered suspense, but he couldn’t hold off whatever came after anymore.

Steve met them behind the curtain, beyond the veil of stage lights and TV magic, he gifted the boys little Tupperware containers which they plucked from him as they walked by full of snacks he’d apparently pilfered from the catering tables, Eddie however, he gently manoeuvred Eddie into a side room out of the way with a chirped little “and you’re coming with me, hotshot.”

The room which was dressed up like some kind of fancy dungeon, had curtains pinned to the walls, fake candles flickering on tables, and in the middle, surrounded by chairs, was a table topped by a haphazardly drawn dungeon map and a few mini figs, it looked a little bit like a discount version of his drama room domain in high school.

“What’s goin on?”

“Jimmy wants to do a little opener introduction thing with you as the frontman of the band, it should have been filmed before but you were a little in your own head, so to make you feel better they figured it’d be best to do it afterwards. It’s nothing scary, it’s to go with your little DND thing out there, he wants to basically ‘walk in’ on you as a dungeon master, scheming with a few of your mini figurine things. Maybe throw in a little maniacal laugh for him to walk in on. Is that okay?”

“Oh, uh… yeah, okay, yeah that’s fine, I can do that” one last thing to do, not that it mattered much, but it was part of the experience! But then… thinking about it, “is there any point to that though?” Steve raised a single brow in question “I mean, I’m going home right?” The second brow joined the first and Eddie couldn’t help but panic a little. “I am, right?” He couldn’t imagine going through all that without the assurance that he was going home after it all.

What a wild thought, considering fame and fortune had been the goal for so long, just one interview and he was ready to throw in the towel, and it wasn’t even a bad interview. He just… didn’t feel the happiness he thought he would.

He felt… lonely.

His band were off with their snacks, hadn’t even looked back as he was guided away from them, his ‘partner’ had ditched him before the whole thing, he’d ‘blocked’ him, whatever that meant, and even the fun opener with the host wasn’t a whole band thing, just him. On his own.

All alone.

“If you want to, sure, just say the word. Didn’t you wanna experience this first though?”

“I guess…” Steve took one prolonged look at him, then snapped his fingers, the flickering faux candlelight froze, the sound from outside the room stopped, everything just. Ceased, and Steve dropped the mirage of normalcy he’d adopted to blend into the masses, returning to the damn near ethereal looks he’d had when he’d first appeared “Steve?”

“I’m not going to force you to experience something you’re emotionally done with, Eddie.” Steve stepped closer to him, just close enough to take his hand and give it a gentle squeeze of reassurance. His hands were warm, big… comforting… fingers smooth but they tingled against his skin, as if the digits themselves were wrapped in a magical field of energy. They probably were. They were an instant balm to his drooping mood in any case “If you’re done with this… if you’re tired, you can opt out, leaving this time behind wont hurt anyone here, you can go back home, and we can do something else.”

Gods there was just something so dangerous about Steve, not in the literal sense, although probably yes, in the literal sense too, but he was so… everything. He was everything. His eyes alone, the worlds most valuable golden trinkets couldn’t compare to the shimmer in those eyes of his, as subtle as it may have been, there were flecks of gold in that hazel-green hue. Eddie could have probably lost every single minute, second, millisecond of his available lifetime, just looking at him.

How did he ever think this man was just a random homeless stranger wandering in from the cold? Better question, how was he going to manage being even remotely normal around him going forward?

“I feel like, if I stay… I’m going to walk directly into like, the worst possible thing an it’s gonna make me feel like shit, what’s the odds of that?”

“Mmmnn” he squinted an almost pained expression, tilting his head just a little as he thought about it “ninety percent chance of a bullshit experience.”

Eddie took one more look around the room, then down to his aged and weathered hands clasped within Steve’s own, nodded in self-affirmation, and then met Steve’s eyes once more. “Steve… I wish we were home.”

With a twinkle of the golden flecks in his eye, a warm smile on his lips, and a snap of his fingers, the makeshift dungeon room melted away out of existence. He hadn’t witnessed this the first time around, getting to that time had been a black out, and then he’d woken up to it all. This time, Eddie got to watch.

He got to watch as the world reshaped, formed around them, he got to watch his hands de-age, the wrinkles of time worn into his skin disappearing before his very eyes, tattoos that’d marked his arms vanished until only the ones he recognised remained. His clothes returned, his body regained its youth and all the aches and pains that’d lingered in the back of his mind as a rockstar faded away.

And just like that, the trailer materialised around them. It was dark outside, as if nothing had changed. As if no time had passed. The smells, musty cigarette smoke, the faint scent of coffee, the pitter-patter of rain hitting the roof and gravel outside. He was home.

And Steve was still there, smiling at warmly him, as if he hadn’t just reshaped reality around them, as if everything was normal.

“Better?” His voice even sounded warm, like a heated blanket on a cold day, instant all enveloping comfort.

He wanted to say yes. Wanted to at the very least nod his head, but everything all at once was so very too much, everything he’d been working towards, that they’d been working towards, the band practices in Dougie’s garage, the ‘gigs’ at the Hideout, all the talk, the plans, the promises to themselves that they were gonna make it, they were gonna do something with their talents.

He’d hated it. He’d hated everything about it. He couldn’t even recall if Wayne had been mentioned during the whole ordeal. Was Wayne still around? Was he present? In his life at all? Had he just abandoned his uncle for deeply unfulfilling fame and fortune?

His next exhale came with a sob he couldn’t hold back, and instantly he found himself drawn into two broad arms and a strong embrace. “Oh, Eddie… hey, no it’s okay, I’m here, it’s okay, you’re okay” words uttered so softly into his hair, close enough to his ear that he didn’t have to strain to hear them over the opened floodgates that were his sobs.

He’d tried so hard, for so long with that one goal in mind. And he’d hated it. He couldn’t even stick around for a whole day without the promise that he could get the fuck out of there at any point, and even WITH that promise, he’d bailed early. He couldn’t handle it. He didn’t want it. After all that planning, all those promises to himself, to the band… he didn’t want it.

He was already too far into his life to plan for anything else. He wasn’t getting into college, he struggled to hold down normal jobs, not that he could even get one with his family name hanging over his head, with Al and his bullshit haunting him around every goddamn corner. People wouldn’t even hide their damn sneers, probably wouldn’t even interview him even if he did wanna work there, which he probably didn’t.

His life was one big dead end. How would he even face his friends? How would he even explain it to them? That he couldn’t, that fame wasn’t meant for him? That the cards of life would hand him the shittiest of deals if he stuck around for that draw?

He only vaguely registered Steve moving him as he spiralled, as he sobbed into the Genie’s shirt. The gentle guidance that took him from the living room where they’d rematerialised, to the chaos that was his own bedroom, and then onto his bed, ever so gentle in his manoeuvring that Eddie only realised they’d switched locations when Steve actually wrapped him in his own blanket, always with one arm around him. Never letting him go. Ever so attentive to his charge. Eddie chanced a look at him, his eyes wet, red rimmed, Steve looked perfect.

Of course he looked perfect. Not a hair out of place, his skin shimmering gold in the light. Perfect and entirely too soft in his attention on him.

“I—” Steve shook his head, his smile lacking in pity but drenched in sympathy.

“It’s okay, Eddie… I get it. This is a lot, what you’ve seen, witnessed, what you now understand about that life it’s a lot to take in. You’re going to hurt for a while, but you’ll be okay.”

“W-what do I even—even do now? I—I was gonna—the plan was always—I don’t have anything else, Steve… what am I gonna do?” His friends would be fine. They’d always be fine. They had options, parents who forced them to think of what ifs, of back ups for if the fame and fortune didn’t work out. Funny how it wasn’t because it wouldn’t happen, but because it would, and that it’d suck.

Eddie hadn’t even let Wayne try and make him think of back ups. Fame was it, stardom was the end goal, they’d be famous, and everything would be perfect. How naïve he’d been.

“Whatever you want, Eddie, you have a genuine Genie right here” he even motioned to himself, smile widening a little in a kind tease, before it softened once more just for him “but right now, I think you should sleep, we can go through the rules of Genie ownership in the morning.”

“Rules?” Eddie sniffled, lifting a blanket covered hand to wipe at his face, it was fine, his blanket had seen worse. God he was so tired all of a sudden. Probably the meltdown.

“Genies come with rules, Eddie, we come with guidelines. You kinda ploughed through with that big one right from the jump, didn’t really give me a chance to give you the run down, no harm no foul though, you’re safe, and you’re wiser. We can go through everything in the morning when we’re less frazzled.”

“Okay… but wait, my uncle, he’ll be home in the morning, he doesn’t—doesn’t know you’re here, where are you even gonna go?”

“Crone used to say that like the Fae—” Eddie wasn’t going to bring that up but he clocked it, the word snagged in his tired brain like a fish in a net, Fae, there were Fae? Fae were real? Steve continued undeterred “—‘my surroundings adapt to my presence’, like how she just blends into wherever she pops up, it’s weird, but it’ll be like I’ve always been here to him. He won’t even notice the difference. Nobody will. Just don’t send me back to my bottle, don’t tell me to go into my bottle. Don’t do that.”

“… Why?” Not that he would if Steve didn’t want to be in the bottle, but didn’t Genies just… stay in their bottles? Wasn’t that like, their homes?

“Cause you’ll lose me, I’ll lose you. I told you this already but…it's been a long day. Listen... sending me back to the bottle is equivalent to banishing me and you’ll never get me back again.” Maybe not home then, Eddie’s eyes widened, suddenly sobered by the idea of Steve just vanishing because he’d said something stupid. “I had a master last half an hour once because he told me to get back into the bottle to hide from his wife. I’m here, nobody will know what I am, nobody will think anything is wrong with me being here, won't even question it, don’t send me back… please?” Steve took his hands into his own, holding them tight in his warm, tingling grip “I—I don’t wanna go back.”

It was the least composed he’d seen the Genie since he’d met him what felt like weeks ago. It’d been a few hours. A few hours, and that was in another timeline, time didn’t even seem to have passed in his own.

He looked… desperate. Eyes wide, pleading. A smarter man might have questioned him, checked for loopholes, traps, anything nefarious a Genie might hide in plain sight, they were supposed to be tricksters after all.

But Eddie was not a smart man, he was also completely gone over those eyes. Tragic, really.

He sniffled once more, but nodded his head, eyes drooping, exhaustion catching up to him after his almost cathartic meltdown. “Okay… but where are you going to sleep?” If Genies even slept, it wasn’t like there were many options in the single bedroom trailer. Wayne had to sleep on a fold out cot in the living room for crying out loud.

“I’ll sleep with you, that’s fine right?” Oh.

A smarter man, would also probably just use his unlimited wishes to wish for a second bed, but again. Eddie was not a smart man.

“Yeah okay, that’s uh—that’s okay.” Eddie was in fact the least smartest man he knew.

Steve smiled brighter than the goddamn sun, and Gods both young and old, Eddie was so very fucked.

[sea-lanterns]

Female lions usually grow manes due to lots of testosterone, so I really don't doubt that Deyha would grow one

Additionally, 'panther' isn't a species and it's just a term for a feline that has too much melanin. There's cases of leopards and lions becoming 'panthers', though jaguars get them most often.

Cougars/Mountain Lions/Pumas have also been called panthers (among WAY too many other names), even though I don't believe they've ever been all black before.

Additionally, snow leopards, tigers, and cheetahs, along with bobcats have never been recorded as being all black like panther be. They have been recorded as having melanism, but not hyperblack melanism like with what's seen on panthers.

Anyway, bringing this up because I've been wondering what kind of panther Arlecchino is.

And I thought it would be funny if she had a mix of all the traits?

Like, she can swim better than any other felid, because she's part jaguar (might even have extra webbing), the climbing prowess of a leopard (able to drag up to 220 pounds into a tree), and umm... I don't know much about lions, 'cause they're pretty boring to me, but maybe Arle has a mane too?

Additional fun-fact about lions. Ones with darker manes are seen as more attractive because darker mane=more testosterone, so if Arle does get a mane, it'd be funny to see how jealous Deyha is of it.

All this said, I just found out panther is also what a cougar is called, so maybe you just mean that Arlecchino is a cougar, if so then... uhh... I hope you found the random stuff I spewed cool :>

—🪽

The big cat infodump I didn’t know I needed until now :0

If we are talking about what kind of big cat Arlecchino would be as panthers aren’t an actual species, I’d say she’d probably be a jaguar like Xilonen! Ever since this AU started, Jaguar! Xilonen and Panther! Arleccchino have always been paired together as they have some sort of rivalry. I think it’d be neat if they were actually both Jaguar hybrids, but Arlecchino’s coat color has a lot of melanin which causes her to be called a “panther.”

Also the thought of Arlecchino being a black lion hybrid is so intriguing too! Since you mentioned that the darker the lion’s mane is, the more attractive they are to mates, I can see Dehya getting jealous because Arlecchino’s mane would be all pitch black! That makes her think you’d be more attracted to Arleccchino’e mane rather than hers! Even though Dehya’s mane is also pretty dark considering her dark hair…

Lol, imagine Lion! Dehya forming a rivalry with Lion! Arlecchino too! Arlecchino beefs with everyone no matter what species of hybrid she is, poor baby 😭😭

[mrs-kodzuken]

This is not a drill ♡

Pairing: Tetsurō Kuroo x fem!reader

WC: 2.8k

Genre: fluff, soulmate au

CW: fem!reader, very little swearing, soulmate au, school lockdown drill, reader has anxiety and something that can be classified as a panic attack, forced proximity, bestfriend!kenma kozume, reader being angsty, this is not proofread!!

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

“I don’t know, Ken.” I sigh, my eyes darting around my room trying to avoid his piercing eyes. His watchful, can-see-through-me eyes.

Kenma was gathered on my bed, effectively ruffling my bedding that I perfectly made this morning. His two-toned hair framed his soft face, however, the dark golden eyes that he possessed were anything but.

“Hm. You talk about how you want your soulmate but then switch and say you don’t want one..” He trails off, reading right through me.

It’s not like I don’t want a soulmate per se, it’s just that I’m nervous. I mean, a person who is destined to love me forever? Sounds a lot like baloney.

Kenma and I have been friends for a while, ever since I took interest in new hobbies like video games we’ve been friends. However, much to his dissatisfaction and annoyance, I only play animal crossing.

He’s helped me with any anxiety moment I’ve had within the last few years, including this one.

“You’re of age.” He comments, his voice giving me all the comfort and confidence I need. Taking one last glance at me, he unpaused his game on his nintendo switch and continued.

The sounds of game shooting was lightly heard as I sunk farther into my desk chair. My window was open and the breeze flew through my hair, brushing small strands against my cheeks. I looked out to the bright blue sky and right then and there I finalized my decision.

I would write to them.

Being 18 meant that I’d have access to contacting my soulmate through writing on my skin. I’ve never written before but it’s been two months since I’ve turned 18 and it’s due.

I wouldn’t even know if my soulmate would write back. What if they were not 18 yet? What if they’re already in a relationship? What if we don’t speak the same language?

What if I don’t have one?

These thoughts rushed through my head at once. I immediately sat up straight and grabbed the pink pen that was sitting on my white desk.

I’ll put an end to my thinking, besides there’s a huge chance they wouldn’t respond, right?

Without stopping my movements I wrote a little, ‘Hi’ on my left arm in pink ink.

I breathed a sigh of relief, I didn’t need to worry about not contacting my soulmate anymore.

Putting that behind me I raised my arm up to show Kenma, “Ken, I did it.” I spoke into the semi-quiet silence.

Without so much as a glance, “I knew you would. Didn’t realize it’d take you this long.”

I could practically hear the taunting in his voice knowing that he meant it. I was a bit of a scaredy cat sometimes.

“They won’t even respond,” I commented nervously.

An entire night passed by in which I sent Kenma home from my house, having tired of his presence. I still hadn’t had a response from my soulmate by then and I wasn’t worried that much anymore.

I would even go on a limb and say that I was kind of content, until I felt a small tickling coming from my right arm. My eyes widened as I roughly shoved my long-sleeved shirt arm up.

‘Hey :)’ was written on my arm. The hand writing seemed neat and sloppy at the same time. It was in a green pen, kind of a weird color in my opinion.

I couldn’t help the rate of my heart as I stared at the word. I thought so many things about my soulmate but I never realized that I would get a response. Or one with a smiley face for that matter.

I couldn’t help but to pull my sleeve down, the message getting hidden within my sleeve. I don’t think I’m that ready yet. Maybe a shower will help me feel like in tune and confident again to respond.

However, that turned into maybe a nights rest, a breakfast bowl, talking with Kenma and until it was lunchtime the next day.

“Stop. Here, respond.” Kenma’s sharp voice spoke, his eyes telling the same story as his voice.

The one person I couldn’t escape that makes me do the shit that I actually need to do.

I nervously furrowed my brows and took the pen from him. Our lunch was spent on the rooftop only because I absolutely begged Kenma to come with me. I needed support in these harsh times but he decided to torture me.

“Fine,” My voice nervously grew.

With a shaker hand I started with, ‘Sorry, busy day. I guess I’m your soulmate’

It was cringe and awkward but it got the job done. I looked at my handiwork for two seconds before trying to take a bite of my food from my bento box.

‘Avoiding me, soulmate?’

A reply came quick from the other half of me. My eyes bulged out of my head but before I could pretend it didn’t happen an irritating voice spoke.

“Do I really need to write for you?” Kenma annoyingly spoke as if I was inconveniencing him by not responding to my soulmate.

“Uhgm, no,” I grumbled and fastened my lunch box then continued with the ink pen.

‘Never!’

I slightly smiled, even though I didn’t even know the first thing about love or my soulmate, it was kind of fun trying to continue a conversation.

‘What’s your name ;)’

A writing came back to me quickly. I used some of my germ-x on a tissue to wipe off my writings because I wasn’t ambidextrous. I had a feeling my soulmate could be since I was getting writings on both of my arms.

‘Call me (Y/n)’ I responded after my skin dried enough for me to write on it.

The breeze of the wind calmed me down more, it always seemed to ground me in times like these.

That’s really how I spent my lunch break with Kenma. It wasn’t really with Kenma but writing to my soulmate instead, with Ken’s pushing of course.

By the end of my lunch break I had a nickname for my soulmate which was, ‘Tetsu’. He was 6’2, same age as me, and his favorite color was red. I thought it was strange how much of a coincidence it was that he had to go at the same time I did.

The chiming of the bells signaled for us to pack up and head to our next classes. Going to school at Nekoma was pretty great. I had a best friend who pushed me to my best in his own way. I was pretty good with my academics and never needed tutoring.

It seemed as if the summertime coming up was the perfect time, adding along the newfound excitement I’ve gotten from speaking with my soulmate.

Every time we talked it was so captivating that I even had stopped and wrote to him in class sometimes. That was really unlike my usual. My usual was always paying attention, helping my classmates around me and taking notes to study later.

A random thought crashed against my head while I was studiously gazing outside the window of my class. I could never get enough of the beautiful weather and view.

When was my soulmates birthday?

My birthday was February 28th and now it’s two months later but from how soon Tetsu responded to my message wouldn’t that mean he’s been 18 longer than I have? And if he’s been 18 longer than I have, why didn’t he write me?

I slowed my pace, my eyes drifted down to the slowing steps of my black indoor shoes. The embarrassment ranged through me as I came to a hurtful conclusion.

I wrote at the wrong time. Tetsu wasn’t ready for me. I probably inconvenienced him because I’m just that helpless of a person.

The annoying tears stung my eyes as I changed into my regular shoes from my locker. I couldn’t believe how stupid I was to really think that he would want me. He doesn’t even know me, hasn’t even met me.

“(Y/n).”

I looked up from my walk outside the school to see Kenma with his bag slung across his shoulder. His other hand holding his game. My bottom lip trembled as I could unfortunately see the sympathy in his eyes. He didn’t even know what happened and he cares.

I ran into his arms, not caring about who was around to see. It’s not really like anyone was and if they were they kept to their own business.

He sighed and rubbed my back with his free hand as a couple of tears slipped from my eyes onto his uniform which soaked them up like a sponge.

I heard footsteps coming towards us until a small movement from Kenma made the footsteps start to retreat.

A scary thought passed through my head at that exact moment, how I wished Kenma was my soulmate.

The lump in my throat only grew when I slowly broke the semi-hug he tried to comfort me with.

Blinking back the embarrassing tears, I gave him a somewhat half smile and started to continue my—our— walk to my house.

“So, want to tell me or do you need me?” Kenma quietly asked, poking me on the back of my head when I collapsed face down into my bed.

“You.” My voiced muffled but I’m sure he clearly heard it.

A sigh was heard before he climbed into the bed with me. He sat up right, his hand delicately stroking my shoulder and back comfortingly.

“Ken, this sounds bad.. but I wished you were my soulmate today instead of him..” I quietly mumbled, it wasn’t something that would come true. Kenma didn’t have feelings for me and I didn’t have feelings for him. It was a mutual respect kind of thing between us but I know with me saying that, I crossed a line.

Kenma took a sharp intake of air and then immediately began to gather his things from my floor.

“Ken? Kenma, what are you doing?” I worriedly questioned, hoping and praying that I didn’t just lose my only real friend.

“Leaving. You can’t just say things like that (Y/n). You don’t know him yet, nor his feelings.” His cold voice cooley told me. He left, closing my bedroom door while he was at it without so much as a spare glance at me.

I couldn’t stop the tears. I wasn’t surprised how my actions led me here, more so my overthinking. I shoved my head into my hands, negatively ignoring the harsh grazing at my arms repeatedly throughout the night.

I trudged into school with an umbrella in hand. Of course it decided to rain when I wasn’t feeling the best. Kenma hadn’t answered any of my messages I sent him. Coincidentally, I hadn’t answered any of the words Tetsu had wrote me.

I shoved my things into my locker and realized I had forgotten the time and was going to be late to class. That is until an announcement came on to the intercom scaring me into next year.

“Lockdown. Lockdown. I repeat Lockdown, lockdown. This is not a drill.” The monotone voice spoke out and sent a shrill of fear through my body. Almost every classroom was closed or beginning to be closed.

I panicked, I started running through the empty halls trying to find somewhere, anywhere, to hide myself.

A hand grabbed my own and yanked me into what looked like a cleaning closet. I was about to scream until a large hand covered my mouth. I couldn’t see in the darkness but heard a low, soothing voice.

“It’s okay. I’m a student too.” The male tried to comfort me in my panicked state.

A lock sound was heard from our side of the door, he locked it. The fearful nerves calmed down a bit but being this close to the door and my breathing being this rapid wasn’t helping.

Turns out there was a lot of space in the cleaning closet. The good thing was we were able to hide ourselves behind plenty of cleaning outfits and supplies. The bad thing was in order for no one to hear me from outside the door, we had to be trapped in close.

My knees were pressed against the males’ as I tried to calm my breathing down.

“Are you okay? I know this is scary.” He soothed me, a gentle hand coming to lay on my knee.

He was trying to ground me from my fear.

It was hard to see him but after taking the voice into account I definitely recognized it. I’ve heard this voice in some of my classes before too.

“I’m fine. Thanks for helping and hiding me.” I whispered, I knew that no one would be able to hear me but I whispered anyway.

“Of course, (Y/n).” He spoke out, making me freeze. How did he know my name? I didn’t even know his.

“You know me? Isn’t that amazing?” I embarrassingly said, thankful he couldn’t necessarily see how red my face was turning.

“I think I should know the name of my soulmate, considering how she’s friends with my same friend.” He easily said and I nearly combusted.

“What’s your name?” I warily asked, I wouldn’t dare take his word for real until I knew his name. There wouldn’t be any way that my soulmate was here with me in this cleaning closet.

“Kuroo.”

“Oh.” My voice came out sounding nearly like disappointment. He’s not my soulmate. My heart stopped beating as fast as it had and seemed to be beating slower due to the angst feeling inside of me.

“Sorry, I just thought—I’ve been trying to—well, I mean that I-“ I exhaled, stopping my stammering which only happened in states like these that I’m in.

“The first name is Tetsurō.” He stated to me, I could feel the piercing gaze from him.

It all suddenly clicked right then and there. What Kenma said about reaching out, about not considering everything, about the nickname my soulmate gave me.

It hit me like a ton of bricks.

“You’re Tetsu..” I trailed, my voice evident of shock.

Suddenly the position we both were in seemed a little too intimate and intense for me. I tried shifting a bit to give me a clear head but only made us close by adjusting my legs on him.

Kuroo’s warm hands held my legs in place, “I tried writing to you, (Y/n).” He did his best to hold my gaze before I looked away into the darkness.

“I tried for three months. I didn’t give up because I had hope, I just thought when you’d turn of age you’d finally write me.” He tried to devoid his voice from any emotion but I could hear it, feel it even.

“Three months? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Kuroo. I was just so nervous, I just couldn’t.” I tried explaining to him why I had did what I did.

“I know, I’m friends with Kenma you know? I wanted you to come to me by your own ways but I suppose I did push Kenma a bit. Telling him to crack down on you, giving him advice how to comfort you. I just knew when I saw you on your birthday and it was you.”

Words could not explain how much those simple sentences meant the world to me. Kuroo did all of that to ensure that I was ready to come to him.

My heart melted.

“Thank you, for letting me come at my time.” I shyly confessed, still hiding—or trying to—hide myself.

“You’re welcome, soulmate. I needed a way to help you calm down and decided why not today to do it?” He chuckled, patting my thigh with his warm hand.

I couldn’t take it anymore. Maybe it was the way he knew me. Maybe it was the way he let me come to him—with the help of our friend. Maybe it was just him.

The ear prickling noise of the intercom announced that the lockdown was over and deemed it as a successful drill.

I was scared for no reason, my annoyance was something that couldn’t be stopped. I seriously thought I was in danger.

Kuroo and I shuffled out of the closet and I got a good look at him. More so the height difference between us.

“How about we hit up a tea shop on the way home?” Tetsu offered, a little shine to his dark eyes when speaking to me.

Putting my nervousness aside, I agreed. After that we couldn’t stop writing to each other because it seemed way more intimate than texting.

However, I did share my findings with Kenma. He was pretty proud of me—in his own way—of finding my soulmate.

I couldn’t wait for those bells to chime, signaling the tea date I’d have with Tetsu.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

a/n: I hope you guys liked and let me know if you want more or have any requests!

the header is made by me, please like/blog if used <3

[kittynugg]

heyyyy guess what i write sometimes too

words: 3,821 im really rusty with writing so uhh read up idk

Stanford Pines had always been a loner.

The stone-cold, action movie hero type of man who never needed anything from anybody. Certainly not companionship.

It was dark. Eleven-thirty, an hour after his niece and nephew had finally stopped bugging him. The boy, who had introduced himself as “Dopper”, “Roderick”, and “Dipper”, had asked him enough questions to make his head spin and English stop making sense to him. And he enjoyed answering questions! 

The jury was still out on his name.. All of those seemed cruel to name a child, especially “Roderick”. What he did know for sure was that his nephew was rather sharp for his age. Hence the gratuitous questions.

Mabel, whose name he knew from the girl repeatedly introducing herself in what almost seemed to be a sugar-fueled record skip, asked more about rather childish things like his favorite color (red) and animal (plaidypus). Then, of course, Stanley shooed them away come ten-thirty so they could go to bed and he could have a moment of peace.

Several hours of peace.

Thank the stars.

He decided to spend these hours awake so as to savor them. Also because he couldn't seem to get to sleep, but that wasn't the focus of his reasoning. The nonstop questions, the footsteps pounding on the floor above him and voices shriek-laughing, it was miserable. And Stan had done his best to keep them away from him! It was preferable, yet almost offensive.. Like he was some kind of monster they needed to be protected from.

“As far as I'm concerned, they're the only family I have left.” Fine. Maybe he was a monster. But he was a monster with a job to finish; dismantling the portal. He’d spent the hour since the kids had gone to bed at work, and a well-deserved break was in order.

And so he found himself in the kitchen. Pitch darkness was broken by the refrigerator light as he opened it up and sifted through it. He moved a box of Pitt Cola aside to find a rather captivating prize in the back of the fridge, a six-pack of beer with a sticky-note reading “STAN’S B SODA DO NOT TOUCH” attached to the cardboard handle of the carrier.

Now, Ford was never quite fond of alcohol, but it had been thirty years since he’d tasted Earth alcohol. A mix of curiosity, temptation and the desire to stick it to his brother that person living upstairs won over the simple thought of “I don’t really like this stuff.”

Also he didn’t want to think about why he couldn’t sleep and stress was a bitch.

A six-fingered hand carefully removed the sticky note, and he took out a pen to write on it. 

“Very convincing, Knucklehead. -Stanford Pines” was written in neat cursive. He took a bottle of “soda” from the pack and stuck the square of yellow paper back onto it. With the beer in-hand and his journal tucked away in his coat for writing, he realized he would need a private place to unwind. The basement was stuffy. Clearly Stan hadn’t taken care of the ventilation system. Another one of his messes he would have to clean up. 

The ideal place would have fresh, cool air, and no “family” to bother him. Unlike that person living upstairs, he didn’t have family. He’d left that behind years ago. There simply wasn’t room for family in his life, not with the dark path he trekked. Destiny wanted him alone and so alone he was.

He dramatically looked to the window as he tried to sip from his closed beer bottle, then glared at it as if it’d dampened his melodramatic display on purpose. But then his eyes darted back up to the window. Fresh air, check. It was outside in the woods. No family, check. Everyone was asleep anyway. 

Bingo! He would sit outside for a while! With a pinch of luck, Stan hadn’t removed the ladder leading up to the roof. A beer and journaling in the great outdoors. That was just what he needed tonight.

A short walk into the, ugh, gift shop led him to where the ladder used to reside, now obscured by a blue curtain but still there. The bottle was stored in his coat (it had the perfect little pocket for it, he normally stored a gun in it) so he could climb the ladder with both hands.

He opened up the hatch in the ceiling to poke his head out and look around, and once he was sure nothing was there to watch him he pulled himself up and through. Aged roof tiles nearly slipped out from under his feet as he stepped onto them. Stan’s laziness was going to kill him someday, he swore to god.

Or.. Whatever was up there, he thought as he looked to the stars.

There was a nice, flat edge he could sit on above one of the attic windows. And when he glanced up there, he even saw a chair and cooler! Absolutely not the doing of that person- Stan, too wordy, because Stan was deathly afraid of heights. And the large one (Zeus?) seemed to listen to whatever he said. The only person left to be the culprit had to have been the teenage girl working the counter, Mabel and his nephew were out of the question. Too short and weak to bring anything up there.

Wendy, on the other hand, was the daughter of “Boyish Dan” Corduroy, and he’d seen that man in the gift shops. No longer boyish, and no longer non threatening. He could snap a person in half like a toothpick and then use them as a toothpick. Logically, his children would inherit that strength. 

He climbed onto the edge and parked himself up on the chair. A relaxed sigh broke the near-silence of the night, only crickets and the rustling of wind through trees serving to serenade him.

Until he heard the pitter-patter of footsteps. Light ones, and they made muted clicks against the floor below the open hatch. He recognized the sound as Mabel’s slippers. So he wasn’t surprised when he saw her head poke up to look around. Surprised that she was awake, maybe, but not surprised that it was her.

When they locked eyes for a second Ford quickly looked away, figuring that eye contact would make her come closer and knowing that he didn't want that, then opened up his beer.

Ignore it and it might go away.

Unfortunately for his me-time she did not. Instead, she climbed up herself, smiling at him as if it wasn't far past her bedtime. She didn't even look tired. A sip was taken from the brown glass bottle, he figured he would need it even more now- oh that tasted disgusting.

“Grunkle Ford!” The girl skipped up to him with practiced ease. Not a single tile shifted under her feet, which prompted him to wonder how she did it. He didn’t get the chance to ask before she flung herself beside him onto the lawn chair. It nearly tipped over with the force, causing him to flinch and shoot a subtle glare at her anything-but-subtle.. self.

She looked at him with a pair of wide, innocent eyes. “You come up here, too?” Asked Mabel with a glance down at his beer. The way her brows furrowed indicated that she knew what it was, and why he might be drinking it alone in the middle of the night. So what if he was a little stressed? “Wendy comes up here to get out of doing stuff at work..” Her eyes flicked back up to his face with the addition.

He took a drink, then got off of the chair so she could fully sit. Maybe she’d put a damper on his night but she didn’t deserve to be cramped on the edge of the chair or on the roof tiles. And maybe he didn’t want to be cramped on a chair with her. Human contact (or any contact with a living being that didn’t involve violence) had become– Was always very foreign to him. Standing with one arm folded behind his back and the other holding his bottle, he spoke.

“I did take her for the aloof type.” Like all teenagers, Wendy was uncaring and scared him with her insincere compliments and new age “computing phone”. He could name a single teenager who he wasn’t afraid of and that teenager had grown up to be a waste. “I don’t usually come up here, no, but I would before your other Uncle came along.”

The discouraged look that flashed behind her eyes wasn’t unnoticed by Ford, despite how quickly it was replaced with determination. A determination that made him nervous. “You mean Grunkle Stan.” With insistence masked by harmlessness she smiled up at him. Like the correction wasn’t at all hostile.

“..Right. Stanley,” relented Stanford before sitting on the roof tiles to be a little closer to her level. She didn’t seem satisfied by that, and gestured expectantly for him to continue. What? What else was he supposed to say? “What, what’s this?” He mimicked the movements of her hands with an arched eyebrow.

Apparently that was the wrong answer, he assumed, watching as her eyes narrowed at him. “And who is Stan?”

“..Your.. Great Uncle? We went over this seconds ago.” He’d have to run some tests later, he was concerned for her memory. 

Luckily, she elaborated, “who is he to you?” Ah. She could have just said that was what she wanted. He didn’t even think about his answer before it slipped from his mouth. “My twin brother.”

“That’s right!” Mabel jumped up with a beam, yelping at the chair nearly toppling over. Acting on reflex he placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her. Once she was stable again, he moved away and resumed his original position, hands subtly and habitually hidden behind his back.

“Be careful,” he scolded, “a fall from that height is enough to break bones.” ..Said the one drinking alcohol, which stunted one’s coordination. Maybe he was being a hypocrite. Nevertheless his statement was still valid, he was much better equipped to fall off of a roof than her. 

A sheepishly muttered apology from her sent a pang of.. Was that guilt? Yes, he felt guilty for scolding her. If these kids were going to be living under his roof for a while, he supposed he’d have to get used to scolding them in a way that didn’t cause fear or shame. That never worked on Stan when they were young.

It must have been why he ended up so.. Unruly, into adulthood. Because he lacked the proper discipline. 

No use dwelling on it, he needed to find out what Mabel was doing up. Sleep was crucial to a growing child and by the looks of it neither of the children had been getting enough. “What are you doing awake? It’s an hour past your bedtime.” 

His eyes barely caught a mischievous smirk plastered on the girl’s face before she turned her head. Then she looked back at him with that same ‘I’m an angel and would never do anything wrong!’ face, but this time with a hint of.. Sorrow?

“Grunkle Ford.. Do you ever feel, um..” The vulnerable tone she spoke in hit him right in the hardwired paternal instincts. ”Sad?” As she continued it seemed almost like another little sparkle appeared in those eyes of hers, which didn’t help 

Naturally, in spite of his.. Awkwardness around children, or humans in general, he hoped to curb this sadness. What to say, though? According to his research females were at higher risk of experiencing depressive symptoms than males. With any luck this “sadness” she spoke of wouldn’t be related to that. She was getting to the age where he’d started experiencing.. Mental troubles of the like.

“Occasionally,” he decided upon answering, “but sadness is an emotion everyone exper-”

She interrupted him. “That isn’t really what I mean.” Hm. That wasn’t looking good for the depression theory. “I mean, like.. Lost? And kinda alone?”

He pretended to consider her question, though immediately knowing the answer. Did he feel lost? Yes. Give him time, he’d find himself. Did he feel alone? Yes, but it was better that way. His life was too dangerous to share with another person.

So he answered, “well, yes. But you have your brother by your side. You aren’t alone at all.” Always a confusing feeling. Loneliness despite being surrounded by people. Oddly enough, he didn’t seem to feel that now. “Have you been feeling that way?” 

“I know I’ve got Dipper,” ah, so that was his name, “but do you have anyone? I heard you and Stan talking. You don’t sound really happy.” Her brows knitted together as she seemed to scrutinize his expression, an expression that had gone just as thoughtful as hers. A little offended, frankly.

This wasn’t about him. Since when was this about him?

He was perfectly happy, for her information. Dusty old college textbooks, paranormal creatures and the fungi growing in the basement that made him woozy were enough company for him.

“I have the cycloptopus, it’s..” words trailing off, he remembered that the cycloptopus wasn’t a good conversationalist and liked escaping its jar to try and eat his flesh. It was actually kind of a jerk if you asked him. 

Mabel finished his sentence for him, “a weird creepy monster that doesn’t count?”A little amused grin worked its way into her features. “You need a person! Then you won’t feel alone anymore!”

He opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off in a reprimanding tone. “A human person. Like.. Someone you’ve known for a really long time!” She made a circular gesture with her hands, seeming to expect him to get a point she was trying to make. “Someone you’ve known since, I don’t knooooow.. The womb..?”

“I don’t follow,” admitted Ford with hunched shoulders. Since the womb.. Who had he known “since the womb”? 

As it would turn out, that was not the response she was looking for, made evident by the palm she slapped to her forehead. The smile remained on her face but felt.. Customer service-like. Forced. “Someone you know really well. Or, at least, you did.. You’ve gotta know who I’m talking about.”

“I.. I really don’t, Mabe-” and then it hit him! “..You want me to reconcile with Stanley because you think I’m lonely.” That called for a nice, big drink of his beer. What a laughable request! Stan ruined his life and she wanted him to walk up to him and treat him like a person!? After he sold his soul to this “Mystery Shack” nonsense, Ford wasn’t sure if he could still call himself a person. But Mabel seemed almost excited at his correct assumption.

She chirped, “yeah! You said I have Dipper, but you don’t have anyone right now.” An empathetic gaze was directed up at him. “Wouldn’t it be a little better if you and Stan stopped being all stupid with each other?” Being called stupid hurt his (extremely) delicate ego. “..You know you’re kind of a dum-dum. And it just makes me kinda sad.” She despairingly looked at her feet.

Ooh, there were those paternal instincts again. Something about the glum look in her eyes implored him to just.. Fix it. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t annoying. With a sigh, he looked at his bottle, then poured it out over the edge. The bottle was set on the roof beside him when it was void of the bitter liquid he’d been drinking. Beer was awful, anyway.

“..Maybe I’m being a little rash, sweetie,” that slipped out, but caused Mabel’s expression to light up just a little. “Sweetie”. Ignore it. You aren’t getting attached to them, they’ll be gone in Autumn. “But you can’t expect me to just forgive Stanley.” For all he’d done? Hah! He’d have to be insane to even think about it.

She laughed softly at him, like it was silly he’d even say that. “Not yet, Grunkle Ford! I get mad at Dipper sometimes, too.” Tiny hands rose to fidget with her hair. “And it’s really hard to get over that. I think if Dipper ruined my dreams, then pushed me into some crazy-bonkers nightmare dimension I’d be mad at him for, like, a bazillion years!” Her shoulders arched in a shrug. “But we always say we’re sorry and hug it out after we’re done being big ‘ol grumps about it.”

A “big ‘ol grump”. She was calling him a “big ‘ol grump”.

“And then we’re happy again! Being all mad at Dipper is the worst, you can’t like being mad at Stan all the time.” It wasn’t something he explicitly enjoyed, no, but it was necessary. 

..Send him to the Theraprism, damnit, he’d finally lost it.

Ford ran a stressed, slightly uncoordinated hand through his hair. Certainly the alcohol was influencing this, but.. “Okay, you make a good point. I admit, I’m.. Not ready to reconcile with him. But when I am, I will.” He smiled faintly at her.

“Are you sure you’re gonna?” Mabel raised an eyebrow and squinted at him. “..I’m putting on my skepticals.” Then she made circles around her eyes with her fingers. He’d be damned, they did make her seem rather skeptical. 

So, he used an age-old technique that would surely convince her. “..Pinky-promise,” he crouched to her level, extending his extra finger. “This one’s a full finger more sincere.” A warm chuckle sealed the deal.

Or, well, Mabel’s giggle and pinky wrapped around his did.

“Pinky-promise.”

Ford tugged his sweater sleeves down and took a breath. It’d been four days since Weirdmageddon and one since Stan finally remembered him, finally remembered at least some of the good times and.. The worst of the bad. 

Since the moment Mabel’s “scrapbook therapy” sessions began to focus on him he’d been apologizing, but they’d all been met with confusion. “Yeah, uh..  I don’t even know what you did.” Now that Stan knew who he was he figured now would be a good time to make good on that pinky-promise. 

“Stanley?” He piped up, head poking into the living room. The television blared with the latest “The Duchess Approves” movie (which was probably made in the Jurassic era) and Stan was parked up on the armchair watching it.

Without even looking up, Stan greeted, “hey, Ford.” Surprisingly, the lack of attention and aloofness in his voice were comforting. He didn’t have to think about who the man in front of him was, he wasn’t tentative, he seemed to just know Ford as his brother.

The folding chair beside him attracted Stanford like a moth to a flame. He invited himself to sit on it and turned to Stan, then idly turned to watch the movie with him.

“You are insufferable, Lionel!” Boomed the Duchess, slipping the diamond wedding ring off of her finger. “If you only want me for riches I suggest you sell this.” She flicked the ring across the table without even looking up at the count’s shocked expression.

As she stood, she adjusted her hat and sharply turned to leave. “Good day.”

“But- But Duchess, you must reconsider!” Count Lionel stood to give chase–

And that was about when the movie lost his attention. It was so dry, the script must have taken ten minutes to write! He looked at Stan; completely engrossed in the crappy movie. “So..” he cleared his throat a couple of times to get his twin’s attention. When he grumpily turned to him, he spoke. “I understand that you’re very absorbed in your movie,” muttered Ford apologetically, “but I’d like to talk about the past forty-or-so years.”

“Eh.” A hand was waved at him. “After the movie.”

He didn’t think he had a choice, so he miserably looked back at the television.

The next ten minutes were painful. But, well, it was only ten minutes and he’d certainly been tortured with worse and for longer. Four days ago. His hands subconsciously moved to rub his arms at the thought. A relieved sigh escaped him as the movie finally ended, and Stan gave him his attention.

“Good movie, right?” He nudged his shoulder. “Ah, past forty years or whatever, let’s talk.” An arm was slung over the armrest, Stan making himself comfortable.

Ford gave a muttered, lied comment about the movie being “okay” and rested his hands in his lap. “I figured I should.. Give a formal apology. For..” He subtly consulted the written topic on his palm. ‘BEING MEAN AND BAD’ was written in pink gel pen by Mabel minutes before he entered the living room. 

That did not help.

“..being a bad brother.” He’d been horrible, really, he was supposed to protect Stan as his older brother (every minute counts with twins) but instead he went and ruined his life. “I don’t know how I could ever make it up to you, or repay you for bringing me back, I–”

He was silenced by a barked laugh from Stanley. “Repay me? Jeez, you think I’m some kinda loan shark?” A snort slipped past his defenses with the laughter, not without a grumbled ‘ew’. 

Ford, of course, figured that was exactly how it was, so he slowly nodded.

“..Moses– I don’t want shit from you. You being alive’s enough for me.” His words weren’t without a glance around to ensure that there weren’t any kids around. Then he shifted to wrap an arm around Ford’s shoulders and tug him into a little side-hug. 

That was a feeling Stanford missed, so he leaned into it. He couldn’t help a mumbled protest to Stan’s acceptance, “but I ruined your life. Twice! No, three times now.” The project, the portal, and the memory erasure during Weirdmageddon. Thinking about them all in quick succession gave him a churning feeling in his stomach that he hated. 

And yet, Stan shrugged it off. “And? I ruined your life too. You ask me, I should be the one sayin’ sorry.” Oh, please. Ford almost laughed at that. Giving everything he had was enough of an apology for the rest of his twin’s life. He just hoped he could share that life with him.

“No, Stanley.. I honestly feel my life’s been improved significantly. Dipper and Mabel have been delightful, not to mention you–” Once again he was rudely interrupted, this time with a rough pat on the head.

“See what I mean? I’m glad you’re here too. That’s all I want.” His eyes flicked back to the TV as the credits for some other awful period drama came on. “Ooh, this is a good one.”

As the screen slowly stole Stan’s attention from Ford, he thought about his words. Just being there? That was all Stan wanted?

..He could do that.

[rottenaero]

You say Siren Eddie, I say Diver/Tour Guide Steve

You say Steddie in an aquarium, and I bring you ‘the owners don’t know Eddie’s a siren, and the staff keep going missing. Someone takes him out of the tank so Steve can clean it except they never actually got him out, and he didn’t notice cause the tanks so damn big, so Steve’s stuck in there with this thing that’s been after their staff.’

The aquarium is closed over the weekend too, so unless Eddie releases him, he’ll die when his oxygen goes out.

Something something Eddie makes sure the other fish in the tank stay away, especially the more aggressive ones, and lets steve go when he has thirty minutes of air left.

And since Steve didn’t disappear, the owner keeps assigning him that tank. And Eddie keeps following him around as he cleans up all the bones that are seemingly human, and making jabs that he can barely respond to, plus bringing him some dead fish and shells.

The disappearances continue until the owner is like ‘Okay Robin I need you to go in with Steve to make sure something doesn’t happen to him.’

They get in the tank and Eddie is immediately attempting to murder her, his fins are up gills are flaring, and Steve has to hold him back.

“Stop being so goddamn hostile!!” It comes out warbled and muffled because of the mask, and the fact that they’re in water.

Robins going forward and Eddie is making a shrieking kind of noise, when she gets too close he starts snapping his teeth and Steve pinches him hard.

He stops shrieking, and instead yelps, “Ah, what the fuck man?!”

“You were trying to eat her!”

“What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck…” Robin backtracks to the wall of the tank.

“So? Why’s she even down here? You’re the cleaner.”

“Cause people keep disappearing.”

“We’ve already established I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Yeah, but they don’t know that. They don’t even know it’s because of you.”

He doesn’t kill her, and she keeps coming to the cleanings but stays far away from Eddie. The disappearances stop, and the owner decides that he doesn’t have to clean the tank as often.

Eddie starts missing him, so whenever Steves in-front of his exhibition, he’ll press his face against the glass and just stare at him creepily.

Maybe it’d be funny if he yelling his name and banging on the glass.

“Steve!”

His eyelid twitches, but he continues with his facts for the kids in-front of him. There’s bangs on the glass behind him. “Hey, I’m talking to you!”

I just think it’d be neat.

Bonus point if the party are all kids who’s parents work there, and they get brought to work everyday after school.

[seastarblue]

Hi! Can I ask what Noha's (i hope I spelled that right) relationship is like with the other characters (sorry if you talked about this already)

Also, just so you know, I am very concerned about Felix's parents!

hello!! and yes you did spell it right!!

———

I haven’t actually gone into detail about it actually! Just a quick “they have a positive/negative opinion on so and so” so I’ll use this as an opportunity to go in-depth!

~~~

Harper: Noha thinks Harper is weird, to say the least. They find his voice weird, his actions strange, his words too big, his everything is just too much. Noha doesn’t hate Harper—though it does seem like that—they just find him akin to a puzzle: strange and wild and unpredictable and—above all else—interesting.

Mehri: Noha’s opinion of Mehri is this: they think she’s a little naive, and maybe she could learn to be less forgiving, but they still like their honesty, and kindness, and overall goodness. The relationship these two have is interesting: I’ve said before that Noha had the lowest morals of the rest of the gang, whereas Mehri is the opposite—their morals are the best, by far. You’d think they’d argue about a lot, but they both let that stuff slide for the sake of their friendship. They learn from each other too—she teaches Noha how to be kind, and they teach Mehri to be ruthless.

Kaiden: Noha finds Kaiden similar to them in a lot of aspects. For starters, they both are quieter, they both were forced to hurt people, and they both were alienated at a young age. Despite all these similarities, Noha doesn’t really vibe with Kaiden too well—especially at the beginning of the story. It gets better—WAY better—after a Specific Event, but for now? Noha thinks Kaiden is eh. They like her wit though. And her (very rare) sense of humor.

Felix: If Noha would describe Felix in one word, it’d be eccentric. Not in the good way, either—they find Felix weird and overall very Loud, which they do not like. They do appreciate his skill though.

Aleksi: Noha just thinks Aleksi is quiet. And a pushover. They think he needs to grow a spine. But at least he’s a decent fighter and has some sense of justice, they suppose.

Li Hua: Noha thinks Li Hua is really… well they don’t quite have the words. On own hand, they think she’s pretty neat, and that her alchemical skills are useful, but on the other they hate the fact she’s so… emotive. It drives them mad. They have learned to make the most of it though: they have made a game of riling Li Hua up as much as possible.

Evangeline: Noha doesn’t quite know what to make of Evangeline. When they first met, Noha assumed she’d be snooty and stuck up like how they expected nobles to act like. Instead, they were met with an awkward young woman grieving her family’s death. They are so confused about her. Noha does like her fashion sense though, so that must count for something.

———

thanks for the ask, @bunnymermaidsblog !

[peachesofteal]

oh man as much as the end sort of resolves some of the angst in that last baby trap au fic you posted, with johnny and simon more or less clinging to bee as a reminder of their darling, i have to imagine that it isn’t that simple, and it doesn’t stay that neat

you kinda touched upon it earlier in that piece with johnny’s pov and him finding out and everything, saying that they did this to you, but i like to imagine that despite having bee as a reminder of darling, everything still kind of just fractures for simon and johnny (sort of like in your au with darling setting the house on fire and killing herself)

like, maybe it’s a few months in to caring for bee, and while it’s nice—it’s nice to have a daughter that reminds them of you—johnny just always figured it’d be the three of you taking care of your kid—that you’d be there with them for every step of the way, and everything would be okay again. but you aren’t—there isn’t even the possibility of you coming back—and the two of them have to grapple with the weight that they did indeed do this to you. if they hadn’t interfered with darling’s birth control—if they hadn’t gotten you pregnant (against your will) in the first place, you’d still be there with them

and maybe they can pretend, for a little while, that everything is okay and that they can get through this, but they can’t pretend forever. eventually reality sets in. eventually the apartment feels too empty without you. bee keeps crying for you and despite their best efforts, simon and johnny can’t seem to soothe her. i imagine that one night amidst bee’s crying that johnny says something off handed to simon, passive aggressive and finger-pointing. maybe he’s been prodding at him for a while—an off-note comment here, a sharp jab there—and simon takes it. he knows the weight of your loss that he bears—that he orchestrated. but this time it escalates. i don’t know the specifics of how, but it does. the hurt grows too sharp. it can’t be tucked away in some dark cupboard any longer. i also don’t know the specifics of the argument beyond addressing the blame and the hurt, but I definitely can imagine johnny asking simon if he “still doesn’t regret it”, a la what he said in that argument they had with darling immediately after the discovery of the tampered pills. idk if johnny would try to leave, again similar to the aftermath of the darling suicide au (though this time with bee in tow); it’s difficult for me to say concretely. would love to hear your thoughts on this if you have the time

anyway, sorry to bother you with my extensive thoughts—i haven’t been able to know rest since i discovered your dead disco series, esp. with all the the juicy aus you keep gifting us. i love your work with every cell in my body (i’ve run a poll and checked…. the results were unanimous). stay safe and healthy, and i hope you have a wonderful day!

I… I-

I have so many thoughts and feelings about this. SO many! The imagery you’ve built here, two tired fathers at their wits end, struggling to keep it together, struggling to take care of Bee, struggling to love one another. Failing miserably.

I think about Johnny, who loves Simon so fucking much, who used to not be able to bear the thought of being apart from him, who now considers… what it might be like, if he was alone. What it might be like, if it was just him and Bee. Johnny can’t reconcile his changed feelings, the way his love has shifted in his heart, and that frightens him, it confuses him. Johnny who’s trying so hard to be a good dad, to take care of the pieces that are left of his family, while neglecting himself. And maybe it doesn’t boil over, maybe it hollows out, leaves him feeling like his love and affection for Si has run dry.

Maybe they get into it, like you mentioned. Maybe it devolves into a yelling match, or something else. Something sadder.

“Was this worth it?” Johnny would cry, holding a screaming Bee to his chest. “You still don’t regret it?”

“Johnny. Don’t.” Simon would snap, pain searing into every syllable.

“You won’t even hold her! Can’ even look at her. Your own daughter!” Johnny’s voice would break, like he’s breaking inside, because he feels so alone, so disconnected, so fucking lost.

And like the “burning down the house” au, Simon is destroyed. Wracked with guilt, he can’t sleep, can’t work, can’t focus on anything. He doesn’t even hold Bee, unless it’s necessary, which puts all the more stress in Johnny. All he does is replay it over and over, the day you discovered the pills, the night you left, the last time he saw you, the phone call. All he wanted was to hold you, and tell you how sorry he was, and tell you how selfish he was, how wrong he was. He wanted to beg your forgiveness. He wanted to bring you home.

Instead, they brought home a jar of ashes and a newborn baby.

🩵

[insertdisc5]

Devlog #16: Answers and Questions

Hello everyone! Welcome to this month’s devlog!

If you just stumbled upon this, I am Adrienne, also known as insertdisc5! I’m the developer, writer, artist, main programmer, etc of the game. The game being In Stars and Time, a timeloop RPG, which is also the next and final game in the START AGAIN series, following START AGAIN: a prologue (available here!).  You can find out more about In Stars and Time here!!! 

LET’S GET TO IT. This month is Q&A: Cohost edition!

“A Q&A again?” Heheh well I don’t have anything to talk about this month ✨ We’re working hard on finalizing the localization! And on porting to consoles! And on secret stuff! You know, the usual!!! Get excited!!! So, Q&A again 💖 And see, I asked questions for Q&As on Twitter. On Tumblr. On Discord. But some new social media platforms have entered the fray. SO.

Welcome to Q&A: Cohost edition. (Follow me on cohost and/or read this post I wrote about why I think cohost is neat teehee) (and follow me on bluesky if you want. I like it way less though. Sorry bluesky)

@ItsMeLilyV asks:

One of the bits of advice that gets tossed around by indie devs is to avoid making RPGs, especially for your first few games, because they tend to be large in scope, difficult to prototype, and easy to underestimate.

Was this ever a fear for you in making START AGAIN, or In Stars and Time? Did you take any special precaution to keep these games within a scope you could handle, and did you learn tricks from START AGAIN that carried over to ISAT when in came to keeping things manageable? Thank you!! ✨

I had no idea that was a piece of advice given, but yep, that makes a lot of sense! Since I didn’t know, I went in blissfully aware, teehee.

I will say that I am familiar with working on big projects from working on comics, and with seeing big webcomic artists always mention to never start with your magnum opus… And I could tell ISAT had the potential to be way bigger than I imagined, which is why I decided to start with creating the prologue to get used to RPGMaker as well as making games. Kind of a pilot of sorts!

Again, thanks to comics, I know to keep my scope pretty small, because even if you keep it small it WILL balloon into something way bigger than you thought. Just for the prologue, I imagined it’d be a 20mn game, and it’s easily a 2-3h one! Keep your scope small!!!

As for tricks, when I catch myself thinking “wow what if I added this cool thing”, I try to always keep in mind those two things: 1. How long will it take to implement (including bug testing), and 2. Does it add something important to the game. I know we always want to add a fishing game, or a fun minigame, but do you Need It. Does it add something substantial to the story, to the Themes. Or are you just adding it because you like fishing games. Which is a valid reason, but also, maybe just make a fishing game instead. You are not the Yakuza series!!!! You are a small indie gamedev!!!! Think about you in 4 months who has to fix all the fishing game bugs!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

@stem asks:

how is it to have a piece of art that's basically done (as far as i understand) that you can't share yet? like how do you personally bide the time until it's finally ready to release, or is it not really a challenge to wait? :0c

It’s so weird!!! The game has been done for so long!!! I’m very glad I asked some friends to playtest the game, so I could at least get some feedback before the game is out… In some ways it feels like the game will be done twice: once back when I finished making the game, and once when the game actually comes out. It’s just a very strange experience. Sometimes people tell me they’re excited to find out more about this story beat, or about this character, and a part of me is like… Wait, haven't you played the game? Oh, yeah, it’s not actually out. Guess you’ll find out later.

EDIT: My god. I just checked on my private devlog for when I completed the Alpha of ISAT. It was in August of last year (I lay down on the floor and look at the ceiling) (I still had to finish all the illustrations so really the game was Done Donezo in October but still…)

anon asked:

What role did Armor Games play in creating the final product?

SO MANY THINGS. Here are some of them: support when it comes to porting/marketing/social media/localization, feedback on the game and how to make it better, community guidance, testing support, QA/internal testing… The game couldn’t be the way it is without them.

For more small details, I have a weekly meeting with my producer, Dora! We talk about the game and how everything is going. A couple months back, I also was checking in with the internal QA team fairly often to fix any remaining bugs. They also helped me find ISAT’s additional programmer, Isabella, and she is a godsend because coding is hard. They also take care of communicating with press, finding more opportunities to showcase the game in conventions, talking with the localization/porting teams… I am probably forgetting a thousand little things they did to help out!!! THEY’RE SO GOOD OK

Anon asked:

So obviously the skills/spells/what have you are based off of Rock, Paper, Scissors. Did you design each "type" to be like a certain style? Rock being heavy damage and defense buffs, scissors being speed and quick attacks, like that?

Absolutely! I just went with the obvious. Rock is physical damage, defense focused, Scissors is swords, attack focused, and Paper is magic, mind focused. It was fun to develop a spell system around those! I’m excited for people to find out more about Craft…

@nickshutter asks:

I really loved START AGAIN (streamed it for a small handful of friends) and was super happy to hear about a follow-up! The cast is so much fun and their personalities are really well-balanced—did any of the characters change pretty drastically from their initial conception during development of the game?

I’m so glad you streamed it with friends… I hope you had a good fun time…

And for sure! Isabeau and Mirabelle were pretty set from the get go (himbo and shy wallflower), but Odile started as more of a gentle teacher type, even if I very quickly went the snarky old lady route. Siffrin and Bonnie were harder to pin down– I wasn’t sure how to portray Siffrin’s despair in the prologue, and started showing them more overtly depressed, but I thought it’d be Very Yummy to have them show a happy facade to their friends. And then, for ISAT, I had to figure out what a non-depressed Siffrin would be like, for the first couple acts of the game before the despair sets in. As for Bonnie, I had a lot of trouble figuring out what they’d be like, what kind of kid they were, what their relationship with everyone else would be like, and then I thought about what their past would be like and then their characterization was set in stone. Sometimes you need to figure out One Thing to unlock a character’s brain. I’m very excited for everyone to find out more about each character in ISAT!

@SuperBiasedGary asks:

What games (or other media) lit a fire under you to create your own?

It could be stuff you liked so much it inspired, something you found frustrating because you felt an itch to do it differently, or something that made you realise humans make things and you could be one of them.

I found a lot of indie games inspiring, but I think Umineko might’ve been the one that made me go… Oh, anyone can just make a massive video game narrative. And you can make it very simple, with kinda goofy sprites, and still manage to make an incredibly touching story!

As for frustrating games that lit a fire under me, I think I’d say in general, I found issue with the classic trope of the “main character helps people and doesn’t get anything back”. What often happens in some games is that you help NPCs with their problems, sometimes helping them with very intense, complicated problems! For a very long time! And, in exchange, you get… A cool item? A nice new skill? And that’s it?

I know this might be complicated to implement on a narrative perspective, but I remember playing Persona 5, and your character just went through a very harrowing experience (like, oh, being INTERROGATED AND TORTURED BY THE POLICE) and you help your friends during social links, and they go “thanks for your help! Bye~” like WHAT ABOUT ME. WHAT ABOUT MY PROBLEMS. CAN YOU GIVE ME A HUG

So on a certain level, I wanted a game where instead of the characters around you having problems, the main character also has problems. And is subconsciously screaming “CAN YOU PLEASE NOTICE I HAVE PROBLEMS AND GIVE ME A HUG.” And hopefully, the characters notice. Winks

Hm. I do want to say I wrote most of the prologue/ISAT during the pandemic, and I felt very lonely and not supported. But then guess what. I told my friends about how I felt. And most of them told me they had no idea, and vowed to support me more. And now I’m closer to them. So the moral of this answer is, yeah, it’d be nice if people noticed, but also, you need to tell people when you’re feeling bad. LOOKS AT SIFFRIN

Anon asked:

Is there a song you listen to in order to put yourself in the sasasa/ISAT mindset?

I have a whole playlist baybee. Before you ask: there aren’t any hidden meanings behind those song choices. It’s about the Mood, and also my personal tastes in music I listen to when I need to concentrate. I like songs that go WUB WUB

 In no particular order, here are five random songs I played on repeat when making the prologue:

Future Club (Arcade Version) by Perturbator (in bold because this was THE song I listened to on repeat. I believe I gave it to Lindar for inspiration lol)

Arcades by C2C

Wake Me Up by Para One

The First Wish by DROELOE

Les Enfants du Paradis by World’s End Girlfriend

And here are five random songs I played on repeat for In Stars and Time:

Down by Chloe x Halle

Nonsense Bungaku by Eve

Non-Breathe Oblige by PinocchioP

Gentle Heart by Jamie Paige

Ready For The Floor by Hot Chip

It’s interesting, the songs I listened to for the prologue are generally more heavy and frenetic, while the ones for ISAT are more hopeful… I made sure to listen to more lively songs for ISAT, since that’s the feeling I wanted to give off…

That’s all the questions I have! In other, non related ISAT news, I have started a new project and having a lot of fun. It’s a visual novel this time. I’m hoping to get some screenshots ready in the next few months, but also I’m taking it easy on this one. If it takes years with many breaks in between to get it done, it’s fine. What matters to me right now is the process!

That’s all I have to say for today! Let me know if you have any questions, or if there’s any aspect of the game development struggle you’d like me to talk about! See you next time!!!

AND DON’T FORGET TO WISHLIST THE GAME ON STEAM ALSO IT REALLY HELPS BECAUSE STEAM’S ALGORITHM IS MORE LIKELY TO SHOW OFF GAMES WITH A HIGH AMOUNT OF WISHLISTS THAT’S THE REASON WHY GAME DEVS ALWAYS ASK TO WISHLIST!!! OKAY BYE!!!!

[sepublic]

Between Odalia clearly being afraid of Belos in her reaction to Hunter… The investors from her show being revealed as wild witches… And all these things being written just before the show’s shortening was announced, it really makes me wonder if there was something else intended.

Those wild witches the BATTs freed could’ve just been a case of reused assets, but Hunter also insinuates that Belos targeted Blight Industries so that rebels couldn’t use them against him. We also see another purpose, but still; I can’t help but speculate that maybe there would’ve been a plot about Alador and Odalia caught between the rebels and the coven and having to make a choice.

Given there’s two of them and how they reveal contrasting stories, I wonder if it would’ve been Alador who sided with the rebels, while we saw more of Odalia’s downward spiral in siding with Belos despite everything, her thought process. Or maybe she would’ve also made the same choice as Alador, mostly to save her own life; She otherwise hasn’t learned anything from the experience or the system’s corruption, nor does she intend to improve as a parent either.

This does remind me of the storyboards, where Odalia would’ve apparently made a truce of some kind with the kids and the Collector, and maybe serving the Collector would factor into that realization. Maybe her fear of Belos, a higher authority, is encapsulated with Odalia dealing with the Collector, and it makes her reflect on how she treated Amity after having a moment of empathy.

Or it’s just the same pragmatic idea of wanting things to go back to where they were; And if that’s the case, it makes me think to my earlier speculation. It reminds me of my theory since forever that Belos wanted to resurrect the Titan, and I wonder if the draining spell was originally intended by the writers to be the energy necessary for such a spell.

But the Collector was included after the shortening (and from what storyboards for Elsewhere and Elsewhen imply, replaced some other cosmic antagonist as someone more agreeable in a shorter timeframe), so they fit the character in and had to change the sequence leading to this; So the Titan being revived was an impromptu Plan B, and Belos gained the ability to possess things so he could pull it off. So it’s the same end point but a different road leading to it…

Thus, my speculation on Odalia having the same endpoint of not really learning, but still someone you could count on to have common sense in the end; This would’ve happened with Blight Industries caught between two sides to potentially cater to, if not both in Odalia’s greed… But then the shortening made it so this was scrapped and it’d happen with the Collector and Belos’ possession threatening the Archives and the entire population within. But the finale was already going past the intended 44-minute mark, the writers opted to prioritize Camila… Still, same idea in the end.

Even with the show over, there’s still eternal speculation on what could’ve been in the original plans; So we’ll never stop wondering! Just as the adventure keeps going in-universe, and we have the pilots to work off of, neat.

[sleepy-wyvern]

Hi! Just found your blog and i love it

If you're taking requests I'd love some best friends to lovers smut with Eddie

Maybe he figures out you have a crush on him and he feels the same way. Whatever you think is best, i'm sure it would turn out amazing

- @eddiesprincess86

So uh, I went a little crazy and wrote my longest oneshot ever at 5.8k words, I hope you dont mind! I finished this at 3am but I really wanted to get this to you asap and be something you might enjoy! I hope you like! Thanks so much for your kind words as well!!! <;3 @eddiesprincess86

"Friends" | Eddie Munson x female!Reader Smut

First gif, second pic

TW/CW: jealous reader, very brief mention of cheating (not by Eddie or Reader), vaping, marijuana & cigarette references, alcohol, cream pie, slight praise kink?

Pet names: baby, darling, sweetheart (this fic uses y/n)

This fic contains 18+ EXPLICIT material, minors DNI! All characters in this fic are 18+

Friends. We’re friends. The concept of a friend was never meant to be a bad one, so why did it feel like poison in your brain the moment the words thrummed into your ear drums?

That was what you were, after all. 

Friends who spent nearly every day together. Hell, best friends even. 

“What’s the matter, y/n? You have been acting weird and avoiding me.” Eddie’s eyes were large and brown, it was rare to see him with a serious expression so you felt thrown off guard. 

The matter is you were in love. With him. And didn’t want to admit it to yourself.

You think back to when you both were little. His hair was short and buzzed, he was covered in dirt and his jeans had bright green grass stains. He’d smile brightly at you, asking if you wanted to play after school. Even then you knew people considered him a freak. But you didn’t care, you had fun with Eddie and that’s what mattered.  

Your mother on the other hand, always kept you neat and tidy, scolding when you’d track any dirt or stain your precious clothes. 

“You were with that Munson boy again weren't you?” She’d scowl while running a bath “that boy's trouble.”

When you got older you figured it had something to do with his parentage, or where he had lived in a trailer park and you a house with the white picket fence. 

But as you grew into a teenager, your parents realised they were better off letting you be friends with who you wanted. You’d just rebel against them anyways if they told you not to. They also figured it’d be better to monitor you both by letting him hang out at your place, so you wouldn’t be “up to no good.” In doing so they realised what a kind person he was, offering to do the dishes, helping your family move houses a few streets down, bringing you Gatorade when you’re sick and watching the house while you went on dreaded family vacations. Eventually the sight of Eddie at your house was normal, expected even. 

One night, he helped you home when you embarrassingly had too much to drink. You didn’t think your parents found out, as the quiet house creaked while he tucked you into bed with a glass of water and escaped through the window. But ever since then your mom warmed up to him a little more. 

“You can tell Eddie we’re having tacos tonight, I know they’re his favourite,” your mom beamed from the kitchen one evening. 

Now things were different. You lived in your own small apartment, he in his. His hair was longer, his body and yours were covered in tattoos. 

Now he was staring at you expecting a reply, eye bags drooping in a tired, charming way. But he still played guitar, he still wore ripped jeans, still snuck away with you to drink and get high, still got mad at you when you were close to having too much to drink. The same yet different. 

Something had to explain or account for a newfound feeling in your chest when he introduced you to the girls at the hideout.

When he got off the stage, his chest was still heavily moving up and down and sweat dripped from his hair and forehead. The sight made you unable to sit still, you pretended to not know why. 

They were his friends, yet the blond girl seemed to bat her eyelashes at Eddie as she sat at the bar. The purple and pink haired girl didn’t need to, her low cut top and skirt with fishnets spoke for her that night. 

Jealousy dissolved to anger which dissolved to sadness. You hated that you started to despise these girls you hadn't even known for more than 5 minutes. For doing a normal thing, shooting their shot with a guy that was single. 

Yet it still stung when he said the words “Hey, this is y/n, my friend.”

For the first time in your friendship you were jealous. 

“Nice to meet you,” you said, not caring to listen to their names. 

Eddie didn’t seem to notice they were flirting with him, yet the jealousy still appeared, taunting you. One of Eddie’s other band members interrupted their quiet small talk, something about equipment needing attention. 

You looked down the bar noticing Gareth sitting there. You moved to sit on the stool next to him, sighing as you lean your arms onto the wooden counter. 

You were the same age and last year celebrated your 21st birthday. Now of legal drinking age, you often shared drinks at Corroded Coffin shows to support Eddie every Tuesday. It became a ritual of sorts, and you grew pretty close that way.

Eddie met him in highschool, at a dnd club. You never really knew him that well until after graduation. Lost sheep, Eddie had called him. You’ve never felt any feelings for Gareth, especially jealousy. Was that what this was for Eddie, a stupid little crush?

You sighed, folding your arms as you tapped your fingers against yourself anxiously. Gareth eyed you out of the corner of his vision curiously. You ordered a rum and coke, something that had a nostalgia about it for you. 

“Good show tonight huh?” He spoke before taking a long sip of his beer. 

The bartender brought you your glass and you drank eagerly, it had more soda than you wanted tonight. 

“Uh huh,” you looked over to Eddie who was talking to the girls, hands in his pockets. 

Gareth followed your eyes as he tapped his finger along the handle of his mug. 

“Who are they?” He asked. 

“Huh?” You turned back to him and he nodded towards where you were looking. 

Embarrassed you looked down at your cup “some girls from out of town. Ones a singer.”

He nodded silently, shifting his position on the stool. What you didn’t see was Eddie looking back at you as you stared down, glancing concerned between you and Gareth. Eddie gave him a look of apprehension to which he shrugged at. 

You take another sip of your drink, enjoying the hot sensation in your stomach. It was so stupid. Eddie’s hooked up with girls before, though you both wanted to know little to nothing about each other's love life it never bothered you before. Now, he wasn’t even sleeping with someone, as far as you knew, but it still bugged you. The thought of him sleeping with them made you want to vomit. 

“You should tell him,” Gareth broke your thoughts, you wondered for a moment if he could read minds.

You were moments away from choking on your drink, thankfully he didn’t notice “tell him what?” Your voice had a small croak to it. 

Gareth sighed, sitting straight up. He wore his old red plaid jacket he had since high school, it had tears and patches sewn over. 

“You know what,” he gave you an irritated look. 

You scowl at him before downing your drink. The ice clinked the bottom of the glass as you placed it down on the counter. 

“I’m not stupid, but Eddie is. He couldn’t notice a crush if it slapped him in the face.” Gareth looked at you sympathetically but you couldn't handle it anymore.

You sigh standing up, grabbing your soft warm jacket. Eddie catches your gaze as you stand, turning to leave the bar. He waves you, you wave back but still head to the door. He hurries up to you, catching you just before you leave. 

“Hey,” he said, “you’re going home already?” His eyes darted between yours, a tinge of sadness coated them. You felt bad but it pained you to be here, of the reactions that you had that you weren’t proud of. 

“Yeah, it’s getting late so I should head home.” You smile at him weakly, he doesn’t return the sentiment, just a look of concern. 

“Are we still on for tomorrow…?” He asked, sounding hopeful with bright doe like eyes.

“Yeah,” it was all you could think of to say, your heart ached.

He let you leave in silence. You zipped up your jacket, bundling against the cold spring night. You take your vape out of your pocket, warming it with cold fingers. You watched the smoke disperse into the air as it evaporated.

Arriving home you change into your pyjamas crawling into bed, wondering how you’ll be able to make it through tomorrow. When did things change? What changed?

The last month you supposed, spending the dark months of the beginning of the year together watching shows like The Last of Us and playing Valorant. You loved him, you always had since you were little. He stuck up for you, and frankly people were scared of him so they stayed off your back. In return you always stuck up for him when people called him a freak or whatnot.

He brought you ice cream when your first love broke your heart. You brought him weed and beer when his girlfriend cheated on him. But your love for him never felt like this before, a bittersweet taste on the back of your tongue.

You’re not sure when your buzzing thoughts turned to sleep but at some point they did, as you woke to the sound of a text message in the morning. It was Gareth. 

“Did you do it yet?” He texted. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You replied. 

“:(“

“Sorry. Hanging out with Eddie tonight. I'll call you tomorrow.” You lock your phone screen feeling a little guilty. You went about your day to day routine until 7pm rolled around, unsure of what else to do.

You had popcorn, snacks, and beer in the fridge. The tv was ready, if you were to watch something, and your Nintendo switch was ready if that was the choice, or your gaming laptop. 

Your foot was bouncing in anxiety, trying to get some nervous energy out when the doorbell rang in your ears. You get up, rather too quickly, making your way to the door. Opening it you’re greeted with shaggy, wavy dark hair. He held a bottle of wine and your favourite candy. 

“What’s the occasion?” You asked, opening the door wider and stepping back. 

“No occasion,” he admitted stepping inside, “just your favourite.”

Your stomach churned wondering if he could tell you were upset last night and was trying to make up for it. He made no indication he was doing so, strolling into your apartment as usual. He got two wine glasses out knowing exactly where you kept them. He poured the wine into the glasses, swirling the liquid around dramatically. You stood with your arms crossed watching him silently. 

“What did you wanna do tonight?” He asked and honestly you never thought this far ahead. Making it past the door was your biggest anxiety tonight. 

“No idea,”  you rubbed your temples to soothe your racing brain. 

He looks out the window thinking for a moment as he does, “come with me. We’re going for a walk.”

“You just poured wine and took off your shoes.” You can’t help but chuckle a little at his sudden idea. Once Eddie has an idea he’ll drop everything he’s doing to accomplish it. 

“Yeah, well, it’ll be here when we get back,” he clapped his hands together “let’s go go go!”

You blink a few times shaking your head but you oblige. You haul a black hoodie over your head, tugging it down. You slip on your hightops and suddenly you felt like you were in highschool again, heading out with Eddie just for something to do.

Placing your wallet and keys into your pocket you step outside into the cold air, “where are we going?” you turn back to watch him haul on his snow white sneakers.

“For snacks,” he answered, closing the door behind him.

It felt like forever since you walked somewhere just for the hell of it. You put your air pod in one ear, offering him the other that he accepts on one condition.

“Play our blended playlist,” he requested as you opened spotify.

The sky was painted orange, you watched the clouds while you walked as darkness crept around the horizon. You knew the path to the corner store, absentmindedly your legs carried you there. Music played through your ears as you watched him walk besides you, hand in his pockets staring off into the sky. 

You admire his smile lines framing his gorgeous brown eyes, each told a story of his years of happiness that you witnessed. His hair bounced back against the light breeze, he wore his usual leather jacket and jean vest, keeping him warm enough. His silver chain attached to his belt loops bounced against his leg with every step. Occasionally a loose pebble was kicked further ahead, skipping across the cement sidewalk. 

You weren’t sure what to say, if anything. Words caught at the bottom of your throat, until you reached the old little shop. It looked the same as when you were a kid- old dirty white siding, wooden steps leading up to the door that creaked, a gross ashtray you tried your best to avoid looking at lest your appetite escape you.

You stroll into the old building as the bell rings, the white tiles beneath your feet covered in sand. You look over the numerous colourful packages of sweet treats, mouth watering already.

It was so nostalgic, reminding you of the numerous times you stopped by here with Eddie. As kids you stopped by for blue and red slushies in the summer on your bikes, the place always smelled like cheap deep fried food. Once, when you were preteens, you poured your change together and with it bought a package of ice cream sandwiches. You had eaten the entire package together, sitting on the swings until you had to go home from a tummy ache. 

You felt lucky you lived closer to it now, in your new apartment, but refused to go there without him. It felt so weird to be there alone, as if this was a spot just for you both. 

Tonight you opted out from the sticky ice cream or slushies. Instead you went for the bottled soda, craving the sweet fizzy feeling on your tongue. 

“What do you think?” Eddie asks, holding his arms out like a game show host showing off prizes “kitkat, butterfingers, Reece’s…”

You glance over your shoulder at him while picking out the blue soda. Eddie always looked quite out of place, like he should be on stage. Shaggy hair, ripped jeans, demon-esque clothing. Yet it was oddly fitting for the old corner store. Probably a normal occurrence for the shop tender, as he looked rather bored.

“Didn’t you already bring me candy?”

“Yes but as you know, candy is not chocolate,” he retorts and you roll your eyes. 

“They both have sugar. Loads of it.”

“Okay but,” his eyes widened as he looked down at you matter-of-factly “chocolate is an entirely different category.”

You couldn’t help but smile at him “okay, you’re right.”

You grabbed a kitkat, placing it on the counter next to a see through display of scratch tickets. The cashier rang through the items as you shifted your weight from one leg to the next. Why were you so nervous?

You managed to place a $20 down before Eddie could, dumping the change back in your wallet while he scowled at you. He settled for holding the chocolate in his pockets as you strolled out of the store.

“Let’s go to the playground,” he suggested, “all the kids will be gone by now.”

Your eyebrow raised “everyone will be gone because that playground is junky.”

He laughs, “well, more fun for us.”

The old playground was nearby, it still had the same rusted monkey bars and swing set, though the swing seats and chains had been switched out some time ago. It didn’t take you long to get there and he was right, there was no one there.

You sat on the old black swing, hips much wider now, making it a bit more uncomfortable now than as a kid. Your knees pressed together as you kicked at the ground, rocking yourself back and forth making designs in the sand. You twisted the cap off of your soda bottle, bringing the glass mouth piece to your lips. The sweet blue liquid dripped down your throat, fizzing as it entered your stomach.

Eddie sat next to you, hands currently buried in a bag of sour patch kids, offering you the kitkat. You held it in your hands, looking it over. After a few songs played in your ears, he stood in front of you, looking down at you.

“What’s the matter, y/n? You have been acting weird and avoiding me.” Eddie’s expression was serious. Something you didn’t see very often.

You scratched the back of your neck not yet answering so he continued.

“I mean not like physically ignoring me,” he said using nervous hand gestures “just, I don’t know…” he trailed off looking for the right words to say “it’s corny. Like you’re not connecting with me.”

You ran your thumb along the glass bottle while his eyes darted between yours.

“Oh my god,” he said as you looked up at him, eyes caught on the part in his lips. His facial expression softens “you have a crush on Gareth.”

You burst out into a laugh and he raises an eyebrow at you “No, you dingus.”

He looks into your eyes, face melting as a thousand emotions exchange between you as you both realize the truth. You look down at your feet as he sits on the swing next to you.

“Do you remember when we met?” he asked you, looking straight ahead.

“Honestly? No,” you admitted.

He looked over at you then, “me neither,” you shared a hearty chuckle together. 

Looking up at the sky you noticed the stars were slowly starting to appear.

“You were just… always there. But I remember the day I first realised I loved you,” he fumbled with his rings, a little nervous.

Your eyes meet his, urging him on.

“You were wearing a yellow dress with pink butterflies, your hair was in braids. Jason Carver said the town called me a freak-” he smiled as he recounted the memory.

“-and I punched him in the face” you laugh into the darkening sky.

His laugh joined you as he crossed his arms “and he cried, swearing his revenge by telling his mommy.”

“Yup, and I was ‘banned’ from hanging out with you because you were a bad influence,” truth be told Eddie wouldn’t hurt a fly, unless it was a mosquito. You were probably a bad influence on him. 

“That was the day I first started loving you, and I’ve never stopped since then,” his eyes seemed to shine like the stars above his head.

Your heart seemed to pound in your chest, directly in the back of your throat as you looked into his brown eyes.

“I hated myself,” you say suddenly “that I felt jealous over those girls at the bar,” you feel your cheeks running red.

He tilted his head listening intently but his brows furrowed “you are the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever met,” tingles spread over your cheeks as he continued “you have nothing to be jealous of.”

You look down again, biting at your chapped lip.

He sighed, “Despite what Gareth says about me all of the time, I know they were flirting with me. I rejected them.”

“I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. It was selfish.”

He had a soft chuckle surprising you. “I think it's cute.”

You frown, kicking the sand softly as your cheeks heated.

“So,” he said after a minute, “are you going to admit your undying love for me now?”

“Well,” you recede your hands into your hoodie sleeves, feeling a little vulnerable “that’s a bit of a dramatic way to put it.”

He folded his hands together in confidence “we’ll get there,”

He reaches his hand out to you brushing his thumb along your cheek, “so are we going to do this thing or what?”

You lean to the side until his lips meet yours, a warmth touch beneath the cold sky. The moment he does, you feel unified as sparks jump from you to him and back again. The stubble on his face tickles against your cheek, a sweet sensation you never knew before.

“Wow,” he gasped, “you don’t know how long I’ve waited for that,” his eyes were locked on your lips as he whispered. 

You lean forward connecting your lips again, gently sucking on his bottom lip before pulling away. 

“We’ve got some wine sitting at home waiting for us” his breath against your cheek spread shivers through the rest of your body. 

Instinctively you bring your hands to his cheek, getting lost in his hair “that sounds wonderful.”

The walk back to your house had the same scenery, the same vibe of music in your ear, and you even walked in the same step next to each other. Yet it was completely different. The dark blue sky looked over you both like a blanket, you giggled at jokes he threw at you playfully. Even the music seemed happier now. Before you knew it you arrived home together, taking your boots off as you entered. 

You grabbed your wine glass before flopping onto the couch. The wine was room temperature but frankly you didn’t know enough about wine to know if that was good or bad. To you it was just alcohol, but the kind that made you feel fancy as you sipped from the glass. 

Eddie strolled over as he always did, owning the room, sitting on the other end of the couch, tapping his foot against the floor to some invisible beat. 

You had already flipped on a random Netflix movie that was on your list but despite trying to pay attention you couldn’t. 

Your focus was on the man next to you, arm stretched over the couch behind your back. The same but different. The fuzzy feeling in your stomach made you smile, and you declared it a good different. 

You place your wine glass on the coffee table as you lean into him, snuggling into his chest the way couples did frequently in movies. It was just as good as you thought it would be, if not better. Hearing his heart thumping against your ear, the firmness of his torso, the rise and fall of his chest with every breath… it was all so perfect. So right. You felt almost silly over how much you stressed about everything, merely an hour earlier. 

“Eddie,” you looked up at him and he looked down at you, a curious look with pure happiness. 

Before he could say anything your lips reunited with his, warm and soft. You brushed your tongue along his lower lip, tasting the sweetness of soda and candy. Being this close to him you never noticed exactly how good he smelled to you. Sweet tobacco, crisp evergreen, and undertones that were just so… him. 

As your tongue met his, you wanted to consume him and be consumed by him. His hand moved to your waist while yours met the gruffness of his face. You brought your hands to the back of his head, tangling yourself in his soft locks. 

You felt yourself climbing into his lap, surprised at your own boldness. He was too, as he held your hips steady a wide grin grew on his face while he pressed his lips into yours.

“Woah baby,” the words rolled off of his tongue perfectly “are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes,” you whisper on his lips “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

The feeling of being on Eddie’s lap was so intoxicating you almost felt dizzy, you were so glad for his strong grip on you. You hold the back of his head, kissing him as deeply as your mouths would allow. The kisses turned sloppier as you continued and heat overtook you, your tongues mingling in and out of your mouth. 

His hands tested the waters by sliding underneath your shirt and up to your waist. He grabbed at your curves, cold metal rings pressing into you in a way that sent hunger through your body. 

You felt your cunt wetten as you lightly grinded against his crotch. Your leggings were a thin enough material that a fold in his jeans hit your clit at precisely the right angle causing you to let out a soft moan into his mouth, body jumping a little in surprise. 

“Woah,” he smirked pulling back to gauge your reaction, “I never thought I’d hear you make that noise,”

You noticed goosebumps on his tattooed arms rise as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Sorry,” You mumble a little embarrassed. 

Without warning he picked you up into his arms, holding your ass and thighs tightly as he carried you to your bedroom. 

He laid you on your soft bed sheets, grinning wildly with fire in his eyes “darling that was the best sound I’ve ever heard in my life."

He cupped your face kissing you deeply. Everywhere his hands touched created sparks you’ve never gotten so intensely before. You wanted them everywhere, over your entire body. 

“Touch me,” You whispered, the words almost sounded foreign on your tongue; they were the words you’ve only said to him in dreams. And this was better than any dream you’ve ever had. 

He helped you pull the oversized sweater off, losing sight of him for a moment as the fabric pulled over your head. You smile at him feeling your hair frizz in different directions from the static

You giggle lovingly as he smiles back at you “every noise you make is music to my ears baby,” he brings his mouth down to the rim of your shirt, biting it and pulling it up and over your head.

Your torso shivered as you crossed your arms beneath your breasts, nervous for his reaction as you lay beneath him topless.

He kept his eyes level with yours, “you are so gorgeous,” his lips met yours as his hair brushed against your neck. 

One hand moved to your neck and you melted beneath his fingers as he brushed them over your shoulder and down your arms. Slowly he moved to your waist and you couldn’t help it as you moved your arms to wrap around him. He was wearing too much though, so you tug at his shirt, pulling it up eagerly. 

He straightened up, pulling his shirt up and over his head, letting it fall to the floor “is this what you wanted, darling?”

“Yes,” you whispered, entranced in his tattoos. You've been there for every one, but as he stood over you filled with desire somehow they felt different. 

As he closed the gap between you, you traced his chest tattoos with his fingers before he moved to kiss your neck. 

Your legs squirm as he licks the delicate skin. You let out a gasp as he sucks in between kisses, sure to leave a bruise. 

“I like to mark what’s mine,” he whispers into your ear before returning to your mouth. 

He hooks his fingers underneath the fabric of your bra, tugging at it and begging you to let him see you, feel you and touch you. 

You lean forward allowing him to wrap his arm around you “that’s a good girl,” his hand moves to undo the clasp. 

You let the straps fall off your shoulders as a shudder runs through your body. Your breasts bounce as your bra falls onto the bed. 

His eyes widen as he looks down at you, in awe and shock “better than I imagined, somehow,” his lips quivered. 

“You imagined them?” you tease, raising your eyebrows. 

He looks deep into your eyes considering his answer before speaking “once or twice.”

You laugh pulling him in for a kiss. You couldn’t bear to have his lips apart from yours, you were already addicted to his taste and touch. 

He moved his hands over to cup your breast, gently and lovingly. He ran his fingers over your nipples before lowering his head from your mouth to your breasts. You bury your hands and face into his hair, taking in as much as you could while he kisses your chest, licking and soaking you. You let out a mix of gasps and moans as he gently bites at your nipple. 

You bring your hands down to your waist, feeling your hips start to beg for attention. You shimmy out of your leggings pulling them down. 

Eddie was sure to give your thighs the attention they well deserved too, running his hands over them with cold rings, grabbing them lustfully. The crotch of your panties was warm as you start to soak them due to Eddie’s fingertips making their way inward towards your entrance. 

“Eddie,” you whispered soft and sweet, a mixture of a question, a beg and a demand. 

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll make you feel good, if that’s what you want,” his raspy voice offered you, he wanted to hear you say it. 

“Yes” you nodded weakly, he lowered his fingers underneath your panties, removing them from your legs.

“I…” you whisper and he looks up at you, one brow raised in question “I…. Want your cock Eddie, so so bad.”

His body shivers at your words, he was more than willing to give you anything you wanted. 

He moved his fingers to his belt buckle, removing it and letting it fall to the floor. Your toes curled as he removed his jeans and boxers, the sight of his cock made you gasp, you must’ve had a shocked or scared expression because he chuckled amused. 

He lowered himself on top of you, the heat of your bodies mingling together. Your bodies pressed into one another felt like a perfect fit, like you were made for each other. 

He pressed the shaft of his cock against your entrance allowing you to feel the length of him along your wet cunt. You whimpered into his mouth while he moved his hands down to your entrance. 

“Are you ready baby?” He asked, big brown eyes intent to hear your answer. 

You nod, “yes,” you wanted all of him, so badly, and you wanted him now. 

He moved his hand to line himself up with your entrance, first testing you with his fingers. Your back arches as he slides them in easily. He curled them against your walls making you moan in pleasure. 

“Please, please, Eddie, your cock,” you pouted, making him smirk in satisfaction. 

He bent down and kissed you sweetly, “yes baby, you’ll get it,” he let out a small chuckle in disbelief that he finally gets to hear you say those words. 

He ran his fingers over his cock, lubing up to prepare. Lining his tip up with your entrance you hold your breath. You bring your fingers up to clutch onto his back for support as he ever so slowly pushes his tip inside. You take a deep breath and he continues, tight precious pleasure filled you as you let out a small gasp. 

“How’s that?” His voice was unsteady you could tell, taking in the feeling of his cock against your cunt “fuck baby, you’re so slick and tight for me.”

“Good, i'm good, i'm ready,” You fumble over the words, eager to have the rest of him. 

He takes his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers as he pushes against you. You let out a deep sigh as you feel his full length deep inside you. 

Eddie grins down at you, brushing your hair back “you’re taking me so well sweetheart.”

And you had, because you dreamt of this for days although you wouldn’t dare admit how badly you wanted him. Needed him, even. 

You shimmy your hips, readjusting yourself “keep going,” you whisper. 

He pulls out, thrusting in a little quicker this time. He repeats the process, faster again as you let out a moan. The bed started to shake and before you knew it he was ramming into your tight little cunt, grunting in exertion and pleasure. 

The feeling of his cock inside you was so divine, you knew nothing else in the world would be able to top it. You never wanted to be apart from him, as you desperately pulled at the muscles on his back, wanting him closer. 

He kissed your forehead and your lips, continuing to thrust at a steady pace. You readjusted your hips and to your surprise his next thrust brushed against that wonderful g-spot and the moan that escaped your lips shocked you. 

“Oh, I’ve found it haven’t I?” He ran his tongue over his teeth slyly. 

He continued to thrust into you, pushing into the spot over and over again “yes, yes Eddie! Harder,” you whimpered. 

He grunted with sweat dripping down his forehead. Slowly but surely the tip of his cock brought you up and over that mountain of pleasure, your orgasm topping over in that sweet high. Your body stiffened letting out a moan louder than the rest and he knew he had you. 

“My princess finished on my cock did she? It feels so good when you finish while I’m inside,” he kissed your neck, enjoying the pleasure on your face caused by him. 

He began to thrust again, faster this time as your body was limp against the bedsheets. Your hands move to his hair, running your fingers through it and pulling it out of his face. 

“Don’t hold back,” you murmur “I want to feel your cum deep inside me,” your own words made you shudder “let our orgasms mix.”

He could barely nod, chasing his orgasm through your clenching walls around him. The sensation was oh so good, so addicting. He never wanted to leave your cunt, you fit so perfectly together as if you were made for one another.

“Baby I’m-“ A delightful moan escapes him, a sound that makes you shiver as you feel him twitch inside you, releasing his seed. 

You lay there together gasping, holding his hair back to help him cool down. He nuzzled his face into your neck lovingly, heart beating hard against you. 

“That was…” he whispered. 

“Amazing,” you finished his sentence for him with a cheeky smile. 

After a minute of resting together you sigh “we should’ve gotten a towel…”

He pulls out slowly as your mixture of hot fluids drips down your thighs. 

He leaves for a moment, returning with a soft cloth to dab against your sensitive entrance. Your body twitches as he pressed the cloth against you, he watched your facial expression with amusement. 

“You act like you didn’t just watch me cum,” you smile. 

“Oh don’t worry darling,” he moves to your lips kissing you before continuing “I’ll watch it over and over till the day we die.”

-----

💙💙💙💙

Thanks so much for reading if you made it this far I hope you all enjoyed! Leave a comment/heart/reblog if you feel so inclined, I treasure every one and they motivate me <3

My requests are OPEN! Since I have an exam next week turnaround time will be 1-3 days depending on how crazy I go on your prompt haha :)

Hope you have a great day my lovely Reader!

-Wyv

[britishassistant]

An Act Of Infinite Optimism

Trucy notices it first.

Of course she does. Polly, for all he’s quick on the uptake, can still be kinda oblivious at times!

Honestly, she wouldn’t know what he’d do without her help in court, he’d be—! Well, not hopeless, but certainly more sweaty than he already is!

Trucy’s been a magician for years, and helping Daddy win poker games for even longer. She’s had far more time to practice at perceiving than Polly has, so she can’t really fault him, can she?

The point is, Trucy perceives a lot about the world around her. Little things, hidden things, things that other people don’t notice.

She’s like, the best at that. Even better than Polly (though he is catching up.)

But when he’s pulling apart Lamiroir’s testimony on the stand and shocking the singer so much that her veil flies up when she rears back in surprise, Trucy can’t help thinking as she watches, “Huh, doesn’t Lamiroir’s jaw look a lot like Polly’s?”

And of course, once she’s thought that, she kind of can’t stop?

It’s not just the jaw that resembles Polly. They both have the same long-fingered hands, the same pale brown hair, the same slight stature, heck, even the same Chords of Steel when Lamiroir calls out Daryan Crescend!

Sure, Polly has a darker complexion and brown eyes instead of blue, but Trucy’s doing biology in school! Maybe she can’t remember what the square with all the rabbits is called, but she knows brown eyes are more likely to show up even in the kids of blue eyed people.

Still, she tells herself, she can’t just jump to conclusions like this! She learned that lesson at Ashley’s pool party not long after she became a Wright. She doesn’t know Polly’s family situation, doesn’t know if he has relatives in Borginia that Lamiroir might secretly be part of. For all she knows, Lamiroir’s a distant aunt or something! A distant aunt who, for some inexplicable reason, looks scarily a whole lot like Polly.

Yeah.

Which is why, when they get back to the Agency after the trial, Trucy subtly segues from talking about Daddy’s secret mission to, “What about you Polly? Were your parents away on business a lot when you were a kid?”

Polly stops.

Only for a moment, not long enough that anyone who isn’t Trucy would notice. To anyone else, he’s moving stuff into neat piles on the sofa.

But Trucy watches as his hand creeps towards his other wrist between stacking, fidgeting with the gold bangle there.

“Ah, that’s kinda complicated?” He attempts to evade. “And it’s not all that interesting, so.”

“C’mon, Polly!” She presses. “You’re one of the Wrights now, so we gotta know! It’d be super rude if we invited you to Thanksgiving, but there’s a whole family of Pollys we left out on accident! I gotta know how many places we need at the table! We might even need to buy more chairs!”

One of the Wright Anything Agency, she means.

She’s not sure why it came out like it did.

But Polly’s eyes are shining slightly, and he actually stops fidgeting for a moment to swipe a shirt sleeve across them. Maybe he got dust in them?

“No, I, ah.” He lets out a laugh that sounds more sad than anything. “I don’t really have anyone else? I mean, I only came to the States when I was eight, and I was fostered before that, and, and after too, but—! There’s not really any, no bio and my fosters were never really—! It’s just me, I mean. If, if I do have an invite.”

!!!

Uncle Valant then bursts in, so Trucy kinda has to put a pin in this to deal with a blast from her own past, but!!

Polly was fostered. Polly only came to the States when he was eight.

Polly doesn’t know who his bio mom is!!

It’s practically guaranteed, so sure a bet that she’d be willing to go all in on it, but she needs to be certain. 99% isn’t 100, but she can’t provide that last 1% herself.

She needs someone else to see it. A witness.

Her first instinct is Daddy, but Daddy is so busy with his secret mission he barely stops by long enough to press a kiss to Trucy’s forehead before he’s gone again. Also, he’s never seen Lamioir before, so he can’t really speak decisively on the matter.

Uncle Valant is also an option, but. But even if he knows Lamiroir, he doesn’t know Polly. He can’t give unbiased testimony based on one conversation, even if he is a magician.

Someone who’s observed Polly and Lamiroir for long enough apart to make a solid judgement comparing them together…

She could kiss Polly when he takes them to Prosecutor Gavin’s office to eavesdrop.

She lets the boys have their fun as they poke around, but makes an announcement in the hall when Polly decides it’s time to leave.

“I need to use the bathroom! It’s that time of month, you know!” Is enough to leave Polly red-faced and spluttering as she flounces around the corner, then takes two lefts and a right that lead her right back to Prosecutor Gavin’s office.

Thank heavens for Uncle Miles and field trips to visit him with Daddy before he left again for Europe.

“Fraulein Magician?” Prosecutor Gavin looks amused as she slips inside the door. “I believe the ladies’ room is back—“

“Shh!” She whisper-scolds. “I need to talk to you about something important! And secret!”

“An important secret?” To his credit, the prosecutor does grow a bit more serious at that. “Well, danke for your trust, Fraulein. Consider me all ears.”

Trucy takes a deep breath.

“I think Lamiroir might secretly be Polly’s bio mom.”

Prosecutor Gavin stares at her for a few moments. The corners of his eyes twitch, and his lips press together.

The amusement is back in full force, barely held back by Prosecutor Gavin’s wavering self-control.

“Before you laugh or say it’s impossible or whatever!” Trucy draws herself up, does her best imitation of Uncle Miles’ scary stare. “Think about Polly and Lamiroir, for a second. Everything you know about them. Isn’t it weird how similar they are, especially if they aren’t related somehow?”

The amusement is fading slightly from Prosecutor Gavin’s face as he considers it. “Yes, but Fraulein, Herr Forehead is American. How exactly could Lamiroir, a native of Borginia, have a son in this country when it’s her first time here? One she has completely failed to acknowledge every time they’ve spoken, no less.”

Trucy smirks.

“Polly wasn’t born in America. He told me he came to the states when he was little, that he’s been fostered ever since. Plus, hasn’t Lamiroir said over and over she can’t remember any of her past beyond performing with Matchi? Well, what if part of that not remembering is not remembering that she’s not Borginian? Or that she already had a son and had to give him up?”

Prosecutor Gavin doesn’t do what she’d like him to do, which is collapse into his plush desk chair crying, “Mein Gott, you’re right! How could you be so intelligent and beautiful, Fraulein Trucy Wright?!”

But she sees her words hit the mark. The indulgent amusement is all gone, a deep and pensive frown on his face as he messes with his bangs.

“It is an astute observation, Fraulein Magician.” He finally says. “But, as I’ve told Herr Forehead countless times, theories do not a case make. Nein, what we need is evidence.”

Trucy can hear Polly calling for her, voice leaning into concerned, but one word makes her pause as she goes to slip out of Prosecutor Gavin’s office.

“We?”

“Ja, Fraulein Magician.” Klavier Gavin’s eyes glitter with a mischievous determination reflected on Trucy’s own face. “We.”