#i literally dreamed this whole story in glorious detail it was so good

[redwinterroses]

friggin' fic dropped fully formed into my sleeping brain night before last. early christmas present from the story elves. rancher duo au with both gaslamp and cyberpunk elements. jimmy has magic (everyone does, a little. he's a house cleaner) and about 134 siblings (grian and pearl are two of them. also impulse). tango is a fae and a necromancer hunter and jimmy doesn't know his bestie's not actually human. not because it's a big secret but just because tango thinks it's hilarious to mess with jimmy's little magics and then be all like O.O wow i wonder how that happened. i have approximately 1/8 of a plot but a lot of vibes.

[doyouremem8erme]

i put together some transcripts of the pages with a lot of text! theyre probably not perfect bc i used image to text for some of them and transcribed the others by hand

Foreword

"Amphibia changed my life" -- BRENDA SONG, VOICE OF ANNE

When I first saw a sketch of Anne Boonchuy, with one shoe on and leaves in her hair, I felt an immediate kinship and connection with her. I felt like I knew her right away. I could see her quirky. dry sense of humor. I could see how brave she was. even if she didn't know it herself yet. There was so much detail and story in this one image. I was blown away. I wanted to know more about Anne, and I most definitely wanted to meet the person who created her. At that point, I hadn't done a lot of voice-over work, so I was a bit nervous for my audition. But the moment that I stepped into that booth and met Matt Braly for the first time. I immediately understood why this show was so special. It's because Matt Braly is so special. Not only is he an incredible artist, but his warmth and kindness mixed with his witty sense of humor is the true heart of Amphibia. He built a world where being different is not just okay. it's celebrated. After my audition, I remember thinking that even if didn't get the part. I'm so happy that Anne and Amphibia existed in this world. Thank goodness that wasn't the case and I had the privilege of voicing Anne for three glorious seasons. I remember the first time Matt invited me over to the studio to see some finished episodes. Up until then. I had just been recording from scripts and hadn't seen any completed art. I cannot explain how floored I was after I watched the opening credits. It was so beautiful. The landscapes, the characters, the attention to detail-- I literally wanted to take a screen shot, print it out, frame it, and put it over my mantle. I had never seen a show look like this. You could feel and see how much love and care was put into every detail. Every frame was a true work of art. It made me look at animation through completely different eyes. The world that Matt and the entire Amphibia crew worked so tirelessly to bring to life is truly so unique, spectacular, and weird in the very best ways. Amphibia changed my life and will always have a special place in my heart. I will be forever grateful to be a part of this family. Thanks for letting this little girl live out her anime dream, Matt.

Sasha Waybright

When Anne was zapped to Amphibia, she wasn't alone - her two schoolmates were also transported. The first that we meet on the show is Sasha Waybright (Anna Akana), who quickly aligns herself with the toads and even has a sidekick in one-eyed toad warrior Grime (Troy Baker). Sasha, Braly admits, is "one of my favorite characters." Writing Sasha, the Amphibia team wanted to create the perfect foil, someone Anne could really stand up to after living under their thumb her whole life. Slotting into the show's themes of change and maturation, the character was essential because then the team could show how much Anne had changed by being away from Sasha all those months. Spending time with the Plantars in Wartwood helped Anne to reevaluate what was important to her, leading to the epic and tragic conflict between the two girls in the season one finale. "Reunion." "You can tell that Sasha's never been told no before by Anne. It's just never happened. And you can feel the tectonic plates of this relationship shifting because of that confidence that Anne now has," Braly said. Amphibia wasn't content to leave Sasha as a one-note antagonist, however. Throughout the series. the writers were looking to unravel and investigate Sasha's relationship to control -- her need to control her friends, her situation, how she is perceived, and how she perceives. A brief flashback in season one shows Sasha standing up to some bullies on Anne's behalf which is ironic because Sasha is, of course, herself a bully. But from Sasha's point of view, she was providing a service and deserved to be respected and followed because of that service. This makes her an ideal partner for the oppressive toads, who provide protection and then demand tribute in return. In the same way that Sprig is partnered with Anne, toad leader Grime is partnered with Sasha, suggesting that Grime represents who she is on the inside. The cohort she chooses is a hyper version of herself, who is also more outwardly brutish. From a character design point of view, unlike Anne -- who remains in a grimier version of her Catholic school outfit for the entirety of season one -- Sasha fully changes herself to fit in with her new surroundings. This was part of both of their characters' arcs, with the Amphibia team wanting Anne -- who begins the show a lazy, selfish shoplifter -- to get better and for Sasha to get worse. Instead of reinventing herself in a positive way, Sasha leans into her negative qualities because they initially help her to get ahead in this horrifying environment. The events of "Reunion" are the catalyst for Sasha's own transformation throughout the show. And after her schemes fall through yet again in season two, she comes to the realization that the control she craves is only pushing people away. It takes time to get there. but she ultimately leaves Amphibia a hero through and through.

ok marcy's is missing a lot and is pretty blurry but i'll do my best to transcribe it by hand :] stuff in brackets is just my best guess for whats cut off.

Marcy Wu

The third human to be transported to the magical, horrible land of Amphibia was Marcy Wu (Haley Tju), a character that the team hadn't quite figured out--at least, initially. The character was conceived as more cunning and mischievous in the beginning. A bit of a pulling-the-strings-behind-the-scenes kind of character. That all changed when they cast Tju. "She became this incredibly lovable, nerdy goofball who was living out her escapist fantasy," Braly said. "We were like, 'That's great. Let's pivot to that,' because it was so compelling." Visually, the team wanted to capture the idea that she's having the time of her life. Her outfit was specifically inspired by Aragorn from Lord of the Rings. She also has a bandolier with potions and [mushrooms] and a belt-buckle in the shape of an "M." She became [the embodiment] of wish fulfillment. There's also that green hairclip, [a] remnant of the human world and a detail that was important [to the] Amphibia team. The clip had a disarmingly girlish quality, one [?] but also serves as camoflauge--you don't suspect her of [wrong?]-doing because of how she looks. [The influence?] of the fantasy genre is incredibly [clear?]. Braly said, "She's got little anime keychains and a [?] should feel like a classmate you had in school [?] in that way. I feel like we all knew someone [?] a little overexcited about their passions." Of [?] her to something much more unexpected [?] [behind?] you and was really into manga [?] [design?] work obscures Marcy's role as the [?]. Spoilers: it was Marcy who got the girls [?] [even?] after getting them trapped, didn't tell [them who?] did it. She also planned to further [continue?] their world-hopping adventures [?] fear of losing her friends to a big [change?] [?] [offered] a job out of state back home.) [?] more harm than Sasha, the [?] dichotomy is dramatic [?] she is this sweet, lovable [?] she actually hurt [?] [?] sell the big twist. [?] already been [?] suspicion by Sprig [?] [seems] fun and [?] in that [?]

ok that got ROUGH at the end because stuff is cut off i dont know why i even bothered. but here's her second page too:

Braly credits writer Adam Colás and storyboard artist Anna O'Brian, who, along with Tju, gave birth to Marcy. "The alchemy of them getting together really brought her to life," Braly said. Marcy's story in Amphibia becomes one of not running away from the big changes coming in her life. Her decisions, while well-intentioned, lead her down a rabbit hole of horror as she becomes the host body for an evil supercomputer, birthing the twisted villain Darcy (also Tju). But in standing up to this entity in the climax of "All In," she demonstrates her growth and refuses to lose herself to fantasy again. Ironically, Marcy becomes an author at the end of the show, creating entire worlds for others to immerse themselves in.

The Amphibia that Never Was

Before Amphibia, there was Amphibiland. When work on Gravity Falls's second (and ultimately final) season was winding down, writer and storyboard artist Matt Braly reached something of an impasse. He needed another show to roll onto, but, according to Braly, "there wasn't really anything." While working late one night with Gravity Falls creator Alex Hirsch, Hirsch put a bug in Braly's ear: he should pitch his own show. "It's amazing because sometimes in life, until someone has vocalized it, it seems impossible. But the second he said, 'why don't you try?', it suddenly seemed very doable," Braly remembered. "Why shouldn't I at least try?" Braly got to thinking. His first idea was for a Power Rangers spoof, but the week he pitched it, Disney released a trailer for Big Hero 6. His second idea was a Star Trek-ish concept called Internship, about (you guessed it) interns on a U.S.S. Interprise-type ship. It also didn't go anywhere. At Disney, the appetite, it seemed, had cooled for sci-fi. Instead, Braly pivoted to fantasy. "I really wanted to make a story about a character who was completely out of place from where they were. Because, to me, my favorite shows were stories where characters really grew and changed." The idea that was deemed the stickiest was about a teenage girl trapped in "a medieval, crunchy, gross frog world." The show would be about a Lindsey Lohan in Mean Girls-style who could then be dropped in a horrible fantasy landscape. Hirsch remembered that Braly loved working on Gravity Falls episodes that featured spoiled brat Pacifica. "He really liked writing sassy mean girls and he had an extraordinary knack for it." But why frogs? Because people think frogs are gross, for one. An unappealing fantasy world would be made even more unappealing if it was populated exclusively by giant, talking frogs. And then there's the metaphoric value of frogs -- for a show about change. you couldn't ask for a better example than a creature that goes through big transformations throughout its life cycle. While the show ended up colorful and quite chipper, the reference points for Amphibiland, at least initially. were much darker and more unsettling. Specifically, the original version of the show was inspired by the "sweaty" fantasy movies of the 1970's and 1980's -- things like Jim Henson and Frank Oz's The Dark Crystal, Henson's Labyrinth, and Arthur Rankin, Jr. and Jules Bass's adaptation of J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit. Instead of the lush colors of the eventual show, everything in this initial version was muted and muddy. The world was more dangerous. Anne, referred to as a "beast" in the pilot episode, lived in a cave surrounded by animal bones (that she presumably caught and ate). This was a version that was scary and spiky and thorny. Development (and later Season 2) art director, Jacob Streilein, worked on creating backgrounds that felt like they could be practical sets. The original title, Amphibiland, had a logo with wood grain and a burning torch -- something that gave off the vibe of an epic classic fantasy.

Received an almost final printing of The Art of Amphibia and am sitting here vibrating with excitement just look at this stuff ---- Matt Braly. 🐸💙💎

The Art of Amphibia coming March, 25 2025

[goddamnalientourists]

Random bits of Lorien Legacies fandom history I remember:

- Everyone thinking Five was going to be a girl before The Fall of Five came out and people living their truth writing all those self inserts and oc girl fives who always ended up smooching Nine (who didn't love a good self insert?)

- all those anti Five memes after TFOF which were like "i am number four fans counting to ten 1 2 3 4 not you 6 7 8 9 10"

- that facebook game about mark james that may or may not have been a fever dream

- everyone calling setrakus ra mousetraps for some reason. I don't remember why.

- the fandom making Eight's sole character trait pizza because he referenced it one time. Also whitewashing him with Robert Sheehan edits.

- that time I was really into crack ships and someone took one look at a Nine/Marina fic I wrote bluescreened and did a whole essay on how ridiculous ships made them quit the fandom and everyone called them out on it

- Sam/Six ship being named Stormchaser

- When John/Six/Sam love triangle was going on and everyone went out of their way to hate on Sarah (and also that time everyone thought she was a traitor?? I forgot how that worked out my brain is telling me Setrakus shapeshifted into her but i haven't read it for ages so idk)

- the iconic fic I read once where the fic author didn't like Sarah so they included a scene where her head exploded and she was secretly a robot the whole time to get her out of the picture go bold or go home

- the time everyone started liking Sarah and making critiques of John's character and the series shitty writing #SarahHartDeservedBetter

- the time @officialpittacuslore rocked up, pointed at John and Nine and said "yes, I'll have some more of whatever those two have going on", dug a pit, labelled it 'Stohn' and everyone jumped in overnight (gay alien pit throwback uwu)

- astohnymous sending everyone in the fandom incorrect quotes on anon

- Six/Marina rising in popularity. Sirina supremacy. There is no heterosexual explanation for dreaming about seeing a girl on the beach that's soulmate energy right there.

- sandor/devektra/crayton/lexa fics and edits were a big thing for a while and devektra was always taylor swift

- the period before the revenge of seven was released where there was a countdown centred around celebration of fan content creation where everyone wrote fics and did art and edits for a certain theme!

- the time I got so annoyed by this random guy named Devdan just disappearing and never being mentioned again I made a whole detailed theory involving alternate timelines to make it so Devdan is Eight from a bad!future. I still think this is a cool theory and better than the actual explanation, bad and lazy writing.

- one time I ran a secret santa for the fandom and legend says I still haven't removed the page from my blog because I just forgot to for years. Literally. It's still on my blog. Wth?? Shameful 😔 my blog is terrible but what do you expect i dont get paid

- the shittacuslore and setracrapra RP blogs

- also I have a Malcolm roleplay sideblog I hardly ever used don't know if that counts as a significant moment of fandom history but I just find it funny how out of all characters I could have RPd I chose him. Could have picked a character with cool powers and telekinesis but I pointed at the local traumatised amnesia dad and was like "yes, I will be him", made 3 posts and never used it again.

- I've been an Adam stan since I first joined this fandom and the first thing I contributed to this fandom was a coloured pencil drawing of One wjth a surfboard, and it's been glorious watching Adam rise from 'character people are vaguely aware of but most haven't read the side-stories so they don't know about him to care enough' to 'fan favourite who deserves everything in the world and also look at him he's depressed and queer' (no I am not projecting ok maybe i am but can you blame me) anyway shoutout to Knave for all the Adam content over the years it feeds me

- The time people were coming up with shipnames for fun and I said Kevy for Kelly/Five and everyone rolled with it but it was actually a typo the whole time and doesn't even make sense when you look at it but it was too late to go back no i don't remember why we were discussing shipping kelly/five

- That solid week and a half everyone aggressively shipped Malcolm and Henri

- when legacies reborn came out and there was a resurgence of energy and theories around all the new characters

Anyway I joined the tumblr fandom ~2013 but I've been in this fandom since 2011, before The Rise of Nine was even released. Also what the actual bleeping heck it is 2021 and 2011 was TEN YEARS AGO?? A WHOLE DECADE????? Help

[schoenheitslut]

BABYSITTER

note/s :: literally just porn without plot. I vastly underestimated how long this would be. It’s completely self indulgent and based on the babysitter au idea I had earlier. This is probably shit but honestly it was so fun to write now that I don’t feel embarrassed while writing smut.

desc :: mari is a babysitter for epel. after tucking epel in, she finds rook in the kitchen and offers to cook dinner for him. she realizes that her two attractive bosses feel the same way about her.

word count :: 2263

pairing :: beautywings | rookvil x mari

Mari stretched her arms as she exited Epel’s room. It took a bit of time in order to get the rowdy child to bed but she managed to tire him out enough. It was kind of a shame that she didn’t get to tell him a bedtime story like usual but Vil is very strict about the exact time he needs to be asleep. Sometimes it was a little tiring to meet his standards but it was all worth it in the end. The family paid well and Epel was a sweet child.

Her eyes landed on the man sitting in the living room. A small smile graced her lips. “Ah, I see you’re back from work, Mr. Hunt. Have you eaten dinner?” She asked him.

He shook his head, mirroring her smile. He tipped his hat to her in greeting, gazing at her like he usually did. It looked as though he was a predator stalking his prey. But as a hunter, it was just his thing, she reasoned with herself internally. He’s never done anything to harm her. In fact, he was always so charming and sweet. Mr. Schoenheit was a lucky man to have him as a husband.

“Then let me make something for you.”

Mari made her way to the kitchen in order to cook something up for the two of them, as well as Mr. Schoenheit. Hopefully she can perfect her skill in making meals the way her two employers like it, knowing how high the actor’s standards were for everything. As she placed the ingredients onto the counter, she felt a warm breath on her neck, causing her to jolt and drop the ingredients on it. His arms wrapped around her.

“M-Mr. Hunt, what are you doing—”

She was interrupted by him. “Fufu, I’ve always dreamed of getting to know you carnally on this counter. The thought of having you for dinner tonight makes me feel so excited.” He couldn’t mask the giddiness in his voice. His hands roamed her body, groping at every curve.

“Mr. Hunt, you’re married— Ah!” She moaned at him slipping his fingers through her skirt and panties and inside her warmth, massaging her insides. She felt his tongue drag across her neck and collarbone. A heat spread throughout her body from her abdomen.

“Mm, yes. You’re so wet, mon petit lapin,” he cooed as he grinded his hips against hers, pressing his hardness to her ass.

She bit her lip, trying not to be too loud. But accidentally let another moan out when he inserted another finger into her depths. A knot formed in her loins, squeezing tightly and aching for release.

“Let me hear all your beautiful noises, mon chéri. Show me how much of a whore you are,” he whispered into her ear, tickling it lightly. It caused her to gasp. For some reason, she felt her pussy twitch at his words.

But then came the sound of heels clacking against the marble floor. Her heart stopped, recognising the sound and her head whipped up to see the glacial gaze of Mr. Schoenheit piercing through her soul.

She was so fucked.

“Mr. Schoenheit, I’m so sorry—”

Vil glared at his husband. “How dare you start without me, Rook? I should punish you for your impatience.” He walked over and pushed him off of the girl.

“Wha—”

She couldn’t even get a full word in before he pulled her towards him and picked her up, carrying her bridal style to their shared room. “Don’t be so surprised, darling. I hope you really didn’t think we didn’t notice how you look at the two of us with such longing eyes.”

Her cheeks heated up, unsure how to respond to all this but she couldn’t bring herself to protest. He was right. But god, it felt embarrassing to know that they were aware of how she saw them this whole time.

The model laid her on the bed, the silk sheets were more inviting and twice as sensual on her skin. A click sounded from behind them, indicating that the door had been locked.

“Sit down.” His voice was commanding, so much so that his husband immediately sat down on the chair. He pulled his drawer and took out some brilliant red rope before expertly tying his husband in a manner that reminded the girl of shibari, such intricate and detailed patterns were so elegant that she felt unworthy of seeing Rook in such an erotic state. She rubbed her thighs together, trying to calm the rising heat between them.

He tied a blindfold over his eyes, concealing them. Then, Vil turned to her, causing her to tense up. Her breath hitched. “Strip for me. Slowly.”

Mari gulped and nodded, unbuttoning her cardigan one at a time. She took it off, revealing her bare shoulders and started to strip off her dress which left her in her underwear.

He tutted. “They’re decent, but you could do better, my dear.” He eyed her underwear, judging the way the fabric hugged her body, how the color looked against her skin tone, and other things.

“I didn’t exactly expect this to happen, sir,” she spoke, finally able to actually get a whole sentence out.

A frown pulled at his lips. His expression was one of exasperation. “We were meant to wait until I deemed you ready but Rook had gotten too excited, so now I have to punish him for that.”

Vil crossed his arms. “But before we proceed any further, I must ask if you are truly alright with this. You’re allowed to say no if you do not feel comfortable with this. Do not feel pressured by our status as your employers.” He seemed so genuine with his words, like he truly cared about how she felt. “You may go home and forget this ever happened and I can assure you that it won’t affect your job.”

She bit her lip, nodding meekly. “Yeah, I was just shocked that you guys would actually… want this. I’m still having trouble believing this is actually happening.” This felt too good to be true. The two men that she pined for had just suddenly shown that they were interested in her. She wondered if this was just a really spicy dream she was having after being sexually repressed for years. But it was really nice that Vil cared enough for her consent first.

He smirked, leaning closer. His finger hooked underher chin to make her look directly at his lilac eyes that held such lust for her.

“Then we’ll have the whole night to convince you that this is very real.”

His other hand went behind her and unhooked her bra with ease. It fell to the ground with a near silent thud. She shivered, feeling a cool breeze nip at her flesh. He took off her panties as well, dropping them so that she was completely naked.

Vil led her to where Rook was and instructed her to get on her knees in front of him. The girl unzipped his pants and was startled by his thick length springing up, leaking precum. “Place it in between your breasts,” the taller male ordered her. She obliged, leaning closer to get him between her soft mounds. Rook shivered at the contact, his cock twitched lightly.

“Now, lick the tip.”

Mari opened her mouth and circled her tongue over the head, causing the hunter to moan lightly. She then felt a pair of hands snaking down to her nether regions, rubbing circles on her clit. This caused her breath to hitch.

“Take it in your mouth and massage him,” Vil commanded her as he moved closer to her, their bodies had gotten so close that she felt his hardness against her.

She followed his orders. Rook groaned at her actions, wishing that he could see her but the blindfold prevented him from doing that. “Mon ange, please—”

The actor noticed and a mirthful smirk pulled at his glossy lips, enhancing his gorgeous features. “Begging already, are we?” He asked. “How pitiful. Usually you can last hours before you’re even pleading for release.”

“But I suppose it can’t be helped,” he continued on, “You couldn’t even wait until she was ready, and now I have to punish your impatience.”

“You’re not allowed to cum until I say so, got it?” His voice was commanding, so much so that Rook had nodded immediately.

“Keep going,” Vil whispered into the girl’s ear before he looked down at her sopping wet cunt. His fingers entered her, making her gasp around his husband’s cock. “Hm, I see Rook did one thing right. You should be wet enough.”

His hard length pressed against her ass when she continued to tease Rook, who was doing well when it came to holding back. She swirled her tongue around his tip. Looking up at him like this was a glorious sight to behold. His skin shone with sweat and his body was completely ripped. His chest heaved as he breathed. A nice red blush dusted his pale cheeks.

Mari cried out when she felt Vil’s cock enter her. The more intense vibrations around his manhood caused Rook to jolt in pain and pleasure.

Vil waited for her to adjust for a moment before moving his hips to grind against hers. The heat between her legs intensified, raging like a fire. She moaned at the sensation, feeling him hit all the right places.

The hunter wished for nothing more than to be able to see during that moment. It must’ve been quite a sight to see his cock between her soft tits while she sucked the tip as Vil pounded into her from behind. He groaned. “Roi du Poison, please… forgive me.”

Vil hummed before looking down at Mari. “What do you think, dear? Should I?” He asked her before angling his hips upward to hit her g spot.

“I think he learned his les-SON!” Mari felt herself go cross-eyed when he hit that spot within her. The knot tightening in her loins.

“Hmph, you’re certainly forgiving. But fine. As it is your first night with us, you’ll have your way,” he said. He turned to his husband. “You have our permission.”

Upon hearing those words, Rook immediately spilled his seed into her mouth, filling it with his creamy essence.

“Don’t swallow just yet. Take off his blind fold.”

Mari pulled away, tasting the thick saltiness of his cum. She leaned up to remove the blindfold from his eyes. Hunter green irises locked with milk chocolate-hued ones.

“Make him taste himself,” Vil commanded as he leaned down on her shoulder to leave a trail of kisses.

Rook’s eyes darkened with lust and hunger when she closed in on his lips. It was obvious just how eager he was when his tongue entered her wet cavern. He moaned, finding bliss in such an intimate act shared between him and the girl.

“Mon ange, my cum tastes divine on you.”

As they did this, Vil quickened his thrusts, hitting every sweet spot in the process and making her cry out. Her body felt as though it was on fire with every thrust. Her walls hugged his thick cock, tightening around it.

“Mr. Schoenheit… Mr. Hunt…” Mari gasped, breathing heavily as she pulled away from the hunter, his seed dripped onto her breasts. “It feels so good…”

Rook leaned down to lick her bud, nibbling on it lightly. “Oh, my dear slut, you’re doing so well. But please, call us by our first names.” he praised her. She bit her lip.

“Ara? You’ve tightened around me when you were called a slut.” Vil smirked. “Does that mean you want to be treated like one?”

Mari couldn’t answer as the knot tightened more and more, needing release soon.

Smack!

“Ah!”

He gave her an icy glare, slowing his thrusts to a torturous pace. “I asked you a question, whore. I expect you to answer.”

She nodded frantically, desperate for relief. “Yes! Please treat me like your cumslut. I am nothing more than a toy for your pleasure.”

He hummed, smirking. “That wasn’t so hard now, wasn’t it? And for that, you’re allowed to cum now. Remember to thank me for filling you with my seed.”

Vil started going at a brutal pace. Fast squelching noises could be heard. The room was permeated with the scent of sex.

“Ah! Yes, thank you, Vil! Thank you!” Mari cried out repeatedly as she started going cross-eyed with pleasure.

And with one final thrust to her g spot, she squealed. She saw stars in her vision as euphoric bliss engulfed her senses. The knot in her loins snapped. She felt his seed flood her cunt before he slowly pulled out, some cum dripped onto the floor.

Mari panted heavily before collapsing, then was caught by Vil. He brought her over to the bed, laying her on it. Then, he pressed a chaste kiss to her lips.

“You did well, my dear,” he praised her.

He turned around and started untying his husband’s constraints. The rope dropped to the floor.

Rook got up from the chair and approached her with a smirk. She looked up, a bit confused.

Vil turned to her. “I did say that we had the whole night to convince you after all. Don’t be so surprised.” He sat down, observing them with his lilac eyes.

“Ah, mon petit lapin, how I’ve waited to ravish you for so long.” Rook licked his lips as he neared her. “Now I can do it all night long.”

[tubbo-in-a-boat]

Wake up honey time for me to talk about block game roleplay

Particularly had tommy in my mind a lot (for obvious reasons) so just wanted to talk about why that is exactly! How this death feels different from the others seen so far.

However if you don't want to hear about that, but still want to read something about the current arc, then don't worry cuz the other half of my rambles is just different ideas as to what will happen! More lighthearted and fun, trust me.

Cw for death, abuse, and the entire arc holy shit it's dark.

Also if you expect me to be critical and negative then jokes on you, if someone speaks bad about my hyperfixation I will cry B) enjoy

So like, where do I begin??? Who was expecting THAT. I mean, some people considered the idea, but it seemed so unlikely that after everything that has happened in the story, he would just die.

One of the things that really put me off was just HOW it happened. Let alone that the fact it even happened was painful, but his death has been different from the other deaths seen in the smp. When Wilbur died, it felt like the end of his story, and despite the circumstances, Wilbur was the one who chose to die in the end. He asked for it, literally. Which is sad and fucked up in itself, but it felt like a good conclusion to the character that is wilbur, and we still got a piece of him in the form of ghostbur. Wilburs story is over, but Tommy's wasn't.

I'm going to go into more detail about his death and what lead up to it in the next paragraph so just skip to the next one if you would rather not hear it!

//

Tommy's death is probably THE most cruel death in the smp so far, and it's so bad I don't think any other can that can top that. Not only was he trapped in a confined room surrounded by lava (both facts we know makes tommy uncomfortable), but he was trapped with dream, you know, the person who abused him. It's not a light term, dream separated tommy from the world, made him believe no one cared about him, and broke him to the point he almost took his last life. Tommy was finally off his reach, finally able to move on from all the war and pain from his past, and grow. And it was taken away, by Dream himself. As I said, I trully believe no death can top the absolute horror Tommy experienced. He was stuck with Dream, for a week, and was just beaten senselessly to death. No weapon, no glorious exit, no famous last words, just a "dream I'm going to die" and then nothing. He didn't even fight back, no one was by his side, no one even saw him die. Schlatts death felt deserving, he simply succumbed to his own vices, surrounded by the people he hurt in some way. Tommy didn't deserve his death, he died alone and unfairly.

//

I really enjoyed the end of the disc arc, I think it's probably my FAVORITE moment in the smp. Tommy finally had something good happen to him, he didn't have to sacrifice anything like he has had to all his life, people came in to help him, Dream was imprisoned, and Tommy was freed. So for tommy's future to be taken away like this, it's horrible. Tommy had his whole new life ahead, so his death has made many feel either disturbed by the way he died, or sadden because it all seems to have been for nothing.

I'll be honest, when I saw Tommy had died, I straight up didn't believe it. I thought it must have been a mistake, an accidental blooper like when dream exploded himself, just a funny accident. Didn't help that Tubbo didn't seem phased by it, I was expecting for someone to come out behind the curtains and say it was an accident. But it wasn't, I still can't believe this even happened. It felt ridiculous and unnecessary, all this buildup for tommys future, only for him to die?? What was the reason for this?? What the hell??? Is THIS it?

In many ways, this seemed unfair and unprompted. But now I that it's been a day I've managed to think about why this death felt different. It's very obvious but, the fact that it seemed so unscripted, so sudden and unjust, it's just .. too real. Wilburs death felt like the end of a story, Tommys felt like the death of a young kid with a future ahead of him. It sucks and it hurts.

Well that was depressing, onto the other (and lighter) half of this.... this thing, I don't know what this is-

Do I think this is really the end of Tommy in the smp? Hell no, there's several reasons in and outside of the story for tommy to come back. I'm going to go from the least to most positive, cuz I really need the positivity rn </3

Starting with the most unlikely and sad one, Tommy simply stays dead. No revival arc, nothing from tommy's pov, everyone just has to mourn the death of this kid and move on. Fucking depressing!

Second one kinda latches off the previous point, but Tommy is seen in the afterlife. I dont think this is very likely either as it would have to be a lot to pull off but I'll explain anyway. The afterlife was proven to be a thing while Ghostbur was trying to be revived. We know Wilbur and Schlatt (AND MEXICAN DREAM..) are there, so maybe Tommy will meet Wilbur there! Except Wilbur isn't happy to see him. This would probably be a very heartfelt moment! Or they will both shout at eachother. No in-between <3. If they really aren't thinking about bringing tommy back, this could be a comforting conclusion to an otherwise bitter end.

Climbing up the ladder were finally getting to the ones I think are more likely, and not as bad!

Tommy gets turned into a ghost. If they really want to go through Tommy's death, I see this happening! Tommy needs his content guys, so Phantominnit is born :) I don't think they will be as complex as Ghostbur, I don't see Tommy roleplaying that hard pfft.

Dream brings Tommy back to life. This one is easy, and probably the most likely alternative. After all, Dream could tell everyone he can bring Tommy to life, in exchange for his freedom. This one leads to either them complying, them keeping him in prison, or somehow tricking him.

Based off of that, there's also the possibility of Wilbur getting revived as well. Wilbur IS back, as a writer at least, and I have no doubt Wilbur had something to do with writing this entire plot, so maybe he's planning to bring his character back through this somehow.

There's also other honorable mentions, tho these are more farfetched:

Karl somehow going back in time to revive him! The only proof present is that he stated that his newest tales from the smp will have "the most ties to the main story yet", but I personally think it's going to be about the eggs and it's origins. Speaking of which...

The egg bring back Tommy. Why would the egg EVER do such a thing? Look, the egg has mysterious properties, this isn't impossible. Maybe the egg manages to bring back Tommy.... Except Tommy is a bit off.

Tommy is brought back to life by Philza. Philza claims to know about the subject of revival, maybe Ranboo begs Phil to try to revive Tommy out of guilt. Interesting concept but not so likely.

Tubbo. I dunno man, Tubbo alright, he's too powerful, he could just say "no <3" and drag tommy out of the afterlife with his own two hands. He needs someone to throw the flowers in his wedding.

[crusherthedoctor]

12 & 20.

12. What's your favourite quote from the MAIN Sonic series?

Everything the glorious Eggman says. Well, everything a glorious in-character Eggman says. *glares at Sonic X*

Outside of him, I'll admit I can appreciate Sonic's speech at the end of Black Knight, despite not caring for that game or even its story as a whole:

"Merlina, every world has its end. I know that's kinda sad, but... that's why we gotta live life to the fullest in the time we have."

And I have a similar appreciation for Tails' speech at the end of Battle, after Emerl F'd himself in the chat:

"Someday... If this world finally knows true peace... If this world no longer needs weapons or wars... If we can make this world a truly peaceful place when we're older... If we can make a world where there's only laughter... Do you think we'll be able to play with Emerl again?"

20. What are your ideas for a new Sonic game?

Well, I have this fanfic...

With a new 3D game...

- I'd like them to have another stab at Sonic's Adventure gameplay. Not literally SA3, just Sonic's gameplay. I know Sonic is about going fast, but I like to explore my surroundings, and doing so is one of my favourite things to do in SA1.

- Other characters can be playable and have their own differences and setups, as long as they don't deviate too hard ala fishing/mech shooting/Werehog/etc. So Tails' gameplay in SA1 on its own is fine (although his flying would probably require a bit of nerfing for obvious reasons), and I'd be okay with treasure hunting gameplay returning for Knuckles or Rouge as long as the radar isn't a piece of shit.

- I'd also prefer it if the other characters weren't required to unlock a Last Story, instead they each have their own individual 100% fulfillments like in S3&K and Mania. I feel that would be the best of both worlds, since we get our alternate characters, and those who just want to play as Sonic are allowed to do so without the game going "Fuck you, you're playing as Silver now."

- Story can be whatever it wants, and it can have as much of a sci-fi and/or mystical bend as much as it wants, as long as it's not too weird for this franchise and has a well executed tone and good characterizations for everyone involved. Eggman continuing to hold onto his Big Bad role as he's done in recent games would be the cherry on top.

- Also, make sure the story is actually new. Nods and callbacks are perfectly enjoyable, and even connecting its lore to a previous story is fine (as long as it's done organically rather than throwing everything in the kitchen sink), but don't just copy 90% of a previous plot and pretend it's new. Why am I mentioning this? No reason, Ian.

- I would keep the Modern designs, and the level of detail with the locations would be consistent with the Modern games, but the actual art direction and colours would be more reminiscent of games like CD, Mania and SA1. (I know SA1 is already a 3D game, but it had a particular dream-like atmosphere in some levels, like the At Dawn section of Speed Highway.)

- Soundtrack? Well there are certain artists who I wouldn't mind covering the whole thing (*coughTeeLopescough*), but I suppose a collaboration of the best artists in the series would be nice. After all, that kind of variety probably contributed to why SA1 still has one of my favourite soundtracks in a 3D game.

- If Big isn't playable, give him SA2-style cameos again. Seeing him pop up in unexpected places never stops being funny. In fact, how about we take it one step further by pulling a Sphinx in Mario Odyssey and deliberately make his placement gradually more unfitting over the course of the game.

- Sonic Man returns. Crowd goes wild.

[hitbythunder]

Among the Gods of Asgard -6

A dark!Thor x Reader, minor Loki x Reader story with all the drama and angst you’re craving. Including Alexander Skarsgard as Balder. –> Read also on AO3

Summary: The gods are being loved and feared in equal parts by their subjects, more the latter by the thousands of slaves working for them. Ten feet tall, powerful and immortal are the rulers of all beings within the Nine Realms. You, the daughter of an Asgardian merchant, fancy the three handsome princes of Odin - like any woman does - and dream of actually meeting them instead of watching them at public events. That is until, as a consequence of Loki’s tricks, you are being forced into slavery at the royal court. Amidst this harsh new reality, you catch the attention of the god of Thunder who then seeks to make you his alone. You are nothing but a toy, a puppet, in the god’s eyes and he will use you as he pleases.

Do not hope for mercy.

**** WARNING: dark story, manipulative Thor, heavy rape/non-con elements, no happy ending in sight

____________________________xXx____________________________

"...And that is why the Lady Sif and I are not on good terms. Though the black hair suits her much better in my view!" the raven-haired god mused as he leaned back in his comfortable chair, the black queen being caught and turned in his slender pale fingers. A soft chuckle filled the air, its origin hidden behind the too large high back of the chair on the opposite of the chess field. "Could you turn it blonde again if the lady so demanded?" The lovely voice asked as Loki put the queen onto the field again, gently but determinedly as to win, before he looked up at the mortal girl snuggling up against the plush bolstering. "Back then, no, but I have learned a few more tricks over the past centuries!" the Trickster's eyes glinted mischievously but the girl held his gaze. She wasn't afraid of him, not like so many others, not like she should be. In fact, during the past two weeks she had become something far closer than a simple maid and Loki wondered how that had happened. Not that he would admit his growing fondness but he wasn't oblivious either.

At first, they met in the library a few times but soon their chess battles became a delightful daily routine for the both of them. The mortal proved to be a worthy opponent who could challenge the god anew every day - at least as long as Balder was away. Engulfed by the thrill of the game, both maid and master would stare for hours at the black and white chess field and choose their next move wisely. According to some research, it had been Harald Leifson who had discovered this joyous game on Midgard and his daughter had been the first one to learn its rules. Since then she had had a lot of practice and her skills were close to the Trickster's. Many times she almost beat the god - more often than he was willing to acknowledge – but she had enough wits not to boast with it. Loosing didn't go well with Loki's temper.

Instead the mortal remained polite and calm whenever the god relished in another triumphant victory because even that was better than having to (actually) work. At the beginning, the girl had been terribly nervous and her focus lay solely on the game itself, her gaze would rarely wander beyond the chess field. Also the god was quite reserved because usually he wouldn't seek the company of mortals, let alone spend his free-time with them. But as the hours of playing turned into days, the invisible ice-wall between them melted away and both couldn't remain silent for much longer. After some verbal incrementalism they began to chat rather vividly about various topics and Loki found himself sharing some anecdotes of past centuries. In turn, he learned some details of the mortal's background - but mainly he did the talking.

    xxx

Word spread, however, and once certain ears were reached, Loki and _________ had to move to his quarters. The library wasn't an appropriate place to display such unconventional manners - the queen had remarked once in private and, as a good son, Loki obliged. Actually, Frigga didn't mind at all that her youngest was socializing with a mortal slave - not the kind of friend she had hoped for but better than none - however many other gods, including the king, would be offended if this sessions were to continue. Thus the queen saw to it that no such unconventional behavior was to be seen outside of the prince's chambers. She didn't guarantee for what happened inside though.

The salon of the prince's chambers was better for playing anyways: no prying eyes and unwanted attention from other gods or slaves. Their envious gazes had felt like daggers piercing into _________'s flesh, thus she was thankful for the change of setting. In fact, she regarded the whole affair as a privilege. Although she felt rather out of place at first between all the gold, ebony and priceless luxuries decorating the room, the maid became rather comfortable being there - and around Loki too. He wasn't the most affable person but somehow he warmed up to her, treated her friendly and seemed to value her for her chess skills. After all the god himself chose to spend every afternoon with her, a maid.

Don't be smug about it! You're just a substitution while his brothers are away! _______ told herself many times so that the disappointment wouldn't be too great once Loki chose to drop her again. Which he surely would one day. Gods only use mortals for their benefit, remember?

So for now, the girl enjoyed the inexplicable honor she was granted. Maybe Loki's large wolf-dog Fenrir was to thank for this strange change in his spirits, because the beast who resided within the prince's chambers had immediately taken a liking into the girl. Upon entering, the cow-sized anthracite dog had suspiciously approached from the adjacent bedroom and had sniffed at the little mortal, who had been stiff as a column that very moment. Seconds later Fenrir had licked at her slender hand to show his trust and appreciation of the new visitor, much to his master's surprise.

Fenrir usually hates unfamiliar faces, he barely behaves around Thor or Balder...Loki had thought suspiciously, not recognizing his own pet.

xxx

Then came the fever. In the middle of the night, the prince was stricken in such a violent fashion that he wasn't able to call for help. Only Fenrir noted his master's indisposition, pressing a moist snout against the god's palm for comfort, and in his delirium Loki had managed to send one simple order to his beloved pet: Get help!

The magical creature and the god had spent so much time together that they literally shared thoughts - a quite useful fact that night – and so the dog dashed away to fulfill meet the order.

However, Fenrir didn't provide the kind of aid the prince had expected. Not Frigga, nor Eir the healer but a maid rode on the beast's back as it returned - as if the wolf knew what the god secretly needed right now. ________ tended to Loki as best as she could, with cataplasms and much kindness to ease the prince's illness. But there were clear limits as the fever wouldn't vanish. When she intended to leave in order to get a healer, Loki asked her, no begged her, not to leave him alone. In the dim-lit bedroom, she couldn't see the puppy eyes he shot at her, however the tight, beseeching grasp he had on her arm gave it all away. How could she have refused?

So she sat down at his side and watched over the god while the fever raged within him, occasionally holding his hand for comfort. _________ did so two other nights too.

xxx

During the day, Loki chose to avoid even brushing the topic and instead directed the conversation towards trivial matters, for example gossip, which he normally wouldn't discuss. Luckily, _______ played along and so neither of them spoke about those hours of disgusting misery, a terrible (shameful) state the prince would never show to anyone, not even to his brothers whom he shared most of his secrets with. Yet ________ had seen it all, the weak sickly side of the glorious god as he lay there bathed in his own sweat, the wet nightwear clinging to his lean pale flesh. A mess of all sorts, just like his mind due to the delirium during which he hadn't been able to formulate a whole consistent sentence.

How pathetic, how human...The god felt deeply abashed as he recalled it, yet then the train of his thoughts also carried him to a much sweeter memory: of a maid's soft small hands tenderly enclasping his; the comfort from sensing her presence on the mattress; her lovely scent flooding his nose whenever she leaned over closely to replace the cataplasm on his forehead. A strange warmth pooled inside the god which began to surface on his cheeks the longer he beheld the mortal across the chess field. “It's your turn, your highness!” The piece of ebony between his fingers had completely slipped his mind apparently. Then he noted how transfixed, almost mesmerized he was staring at her. Suddenly snapping out of trance Loki cleared his voice and quickly averted his gaze, suppressing the shade of pink on his high cheekbones.

“... Oh, oh yes... I just happened to be distracted by a spell...anyways...” Loki declared somewhat clumsily and put the bishop on a random position on the field.

[goliath-de-senfina-sango]

Teller of Tales

The trio head through the portal to explore Danny's brand spanking new Sanctuary and are a little awed by all that he managed to make.  They meet a facinating new ghost, who has a deal for them.

ao3

When Danny took Sam and Tucker through the portal and into his Sanctuary, he was glad to see that he wasn’t the only one floored by how much of it there was, or how complex it had turned out. “I don’t think I’ve ever even made a drawing this complicated and detailed before,” he said as they reached the roof of the main portal building and house. It was at the heart of what looked to be a town or maybe even a city, which was surrounded by a dense forest, with a mountain to one side, a massive body of water that Danny would call a lake but that looked so vast an ocean felt more appropriate on the other, and even misty clouds of every kind of color he could see passing by a point of brilliant light. “I’m glad it’s been keeping Walker out as much as it has, and every other ghost too. That means we can explore it!”

“Danny, this place is magnificent!” Tucker wrapped him up in a tight hug and squeezed nearly hard enough to crack his back. “Dude, you made a whole ass town that’s almost as big as Amity Park! I wonder how stocked up this place is. You’ve got copies of our hoverboards here too, so what are we waiting for?”

“I say we take a look at that forest, it’s practically screaming ‘enchanted and full of mystery’, and maybe we can even figure out what all goes on in that head of yours.” Sam poked Danny’s head with a laugh and called up her own backup hoverboard, hopping over the ledge and onto it before Tucker could catch up. Tucker, of course, swerved off to see if he could find anything substantial in the town, which meant splitting up, which had Danny reaching out to grab them both.

“Guys hold up! Are we really gonna go into a freshly made place that I made mostly subconsciously while in ghost form and do it while splitting up? Are we the Scooby gang?”

“Take full offense from this but you’re baby,” Tucker said with a snort. “Your subconscious mind didn’t come up with anything that might hurt us.”

“Maybe not on purpose, but I might’ve made some parts of this place uninhabitable to regular humans, but perfectly safe for a ghost to be floating around in.” After all, a ghostly mind set deeply into a Passion could easily forget things like safety regulations for squishy humans. Young Blood wasn’t even malicious or Obsessive and look at how he’d turned out.

Sam rolled her eyes but circled back around to the boys. “Fine, we can stick together and tour your McMansion together, you lil show off, but if so then how about we take a look at the edges to see what we can learn about how well defended this place is? It’s meant to be your Sanctuary, so you’ve gotta have some way of keeping ghosts out without just shotting at them.”

“We can work our way through the town and out into the forest, guys, you know that right? We’re literally starting from the middle.” Danny sighed, shaking his head. “The defenses are clearly working because nothing’s actually done anything to us yet, they can wait.”

It took a bit of back and forth but eventually, they all decided on a direction to go and headed for the lake instead of the mountain. After all, if the water was safe for humans, they could all go for a swim. The trio set off and found what looked to be empty homes, some buildings that could be shops, a few restaurants that just needed stocking up and customers, and other places that looked all but ready to be populated by people stuck on the ground and people who could fly. There was a warehouse full of Focuses, cameras, and replicas of every robot or project that Danny and Tucker had ever put together before, along with a few that stored Fentonworks non-violent products too. “This place looks like someone’s fantasy dream town where you can sit, relax, chat up a ghost, and then head off into the unknown in your very own - oh wow, Danny is that the Specter Speeder?”

“Well, I may have gone over Mom and Dad’s blueprints a while back for it, but only because I wanted to see if I could develop ya know, a space ship from it.” Danny felt his cheeks burning and gave Tucker’s shoulder a light punch to try and wipe the grin off his face. “Shut up.”

“Actually, the closer we get to the forest, the more ‘port town’ vibes I’m getting,” Sam mused. “Danny, didn’t you say you wanted to be a pirate once when you were a kid?”

“Shut uuup, noo.” Danny pulled his hood over his face, even as he turned invisible. Ok, so maybe it did look like the perfect place for a pirate who hit land on an undiscovered island to have set up their own little town. That proved nothing.

Just as Sam opened her mouth to keep teasing him, Danny popped into visibility and transformed entirely, shooting into the air with plasma gathered in his hands. It felt like the pull of some massive celestial object focused on him and his sanctuary alone, getting closer and closer, and Danny was all but certain he couldn’t do much on his own against it. He reached into his Sanctuary, felt it reach back, and begged it to hide . The partly cloudy sky went dark, the clouds now stretching over the whole expanse of the island, and in the mountain, Danny could feel the hum of railguns warming up and ready to fire like Danny couldn’t on his own.

The clouds were parted by something vast and incomprehensible that sung every song never known by mortal ears, and looking at it was looking upon all that had ever happened throughout the whole of humanity, listening to every story ever told to another person, and Danny nearly unraveled before he could look away. Something like a bell tolled and that massive shape resolved itself into something steadily smaller and simpler, while a voice called out to them - when had Tucker and Sam joined in him in the air? - with a deep baritone voice. “ A̸̢̦̮̥͚h̴͉̟̳͙͈͎̩͡, my sincerest apologies! I hadn’t expecte d any mortals or bridge spirits to be here and so came to investigate this lovely new place in an old er form. Perhaps this is easier on your minds and senses?”

The being settled into the shape of a male presenting person with grey skin, a white shirt, black pants, and a purple trench coat. They were also wearing glasses over eyes that were green at a glance but any lingering eye contact showed every shade of green and violet that could be thought of, and Danny struggled to keep his gaze on the center of the being’s forehead. They smiled with shark-like teeth and held out a hand. Danny, after likely too long, regained enough sense to shake their hand and cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah, this is uh, this is a lot easier. Hi. I’m Danny.”

“Hello Danny, I’m recently going by Ghostwriter! And who might you all be?”

“I’m …. Tucker Foley. Tech master extraordinaire.” Tucker shook off his awe quickly enough and gave the Ghostwriter some finger guns and a grin, shaky as it may have been.

Tucker’s joke seemed to snap Sam out of her own stupor and she shook the ghost’s hand warily. “Sam Manson, curious to meet you.”

“It’s always good to be curious! I came here sensing both a new place to learn about, the gateway to this lovely little planar system, and also I sensed a curious mind like my own seeking new fascinating secrets to uncover. Considering only one of you is capable of creating a Sanctuary, I imagine it’s you, Danny?”

Danny nodded and scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, about you coming here, can I ask uh, what was up with that mind-melting form you were just in?”

“I’ve never properly understood Lovecraftian Horror’s until now,” Sam muttered with a shiver. Tucker elbowed her in the side.

Ghostwriter tapped their chin with a hum and looked around at Danny’s spooktacular bachelor pad and clapped his hands with a grin. “I propose a trade! If I tell you about myself, as the answer to your question is best answered with story, then you all tell me about your selves. Deal?”

The trio looked between each other and nodded, Danny holding out his hand to shake. “Deal. Can we take this to the cafe down there though?” Danny pointed exactly to one of the cafes in his Sanctuary and slowly relaxed his panicked grip on the place. If Ghostwriter wanted trouble he clearly didn’t want any with Danny.

They sat down, Danny found some tea, coffee and all the things required to make hot chocolate inside, and offered everyone. Tucker accepted some iced tea, while Sam and Ghostwriter got coffee, and soon Danny sat down with his own hot chocolate and everyone else’s drinks. They appreciated the drinks and took big sips before the Ghostwriter began to speak.

“Oh, but where to start, where to start? If you have time, I can start even at the very beginning of it all?” The trio looked between each other and shrugged; it was the weekend, they had plenty of time. Ghostwriter seemed delighted by that. “The very beginning it is!” Music began to play, soft and mysterious in their minds.

“Before all that you see around you, before the swirling mists and oceans of darkness, before the very concept of Being, nothing was all that was. No past, present or future, no light or darkness, simply a blank nothingness.” On the table, a portion of the air became… empty, in a way that Danny felt in his soul, and he ached to fill the void. “Now, no one, not even myself or my siblings, knows why what happened happened, but for whatever reason or unreason, something began to Exist. Now, the very first something is what some call ectoplasm, others magic, and countless other names, but my siblings and I simply refer to it as the Realms themself being born.” Green light shone in the center of the void and quickly expanded to fill it up, accompanied by glorious and triumphant music.

“Now, while the Realms were the Something to all the Nothing at its edges, it still had just about nothing in it. So, it got to making things within itself from itself, and after a bit of experimenting with half-formed ideas like any creative soul, the very first Realm - the first universe was created. Inside of this universe, there was a great deal and the forces that be happened to be rather proud of themself but had no one to share their creation with. So, they created a soul, and a vessel to house that soul in so that someone could experience what they had made. There was, however, the issue of longevity, which was solved somewhat easily enough, by moving the soul into yet another vessel.”

The shape of a person appeared, surrounded by others, and a light slid out of one as they fell, before being nudged into the next, back and forth. “Now, what with the flexibility of how the Realms interact with time, the soul of their creation was able to hop from mortal vessel to mortal vessel, back and forth across history. Each time the soul left a body it simply went to the edges of the universe before being guided to its next life. And so it went until all the mortals were gone, but the soul was now so complex from experiencing life as every mortal that it could fit in larger vessels from which to appreciate the world. So, they became each planet in turn, and then each star, and each galaxy and cluster, and black hole, until that universe finally went dark, and the being had been everyone and everything in it across its lifespan.”

The light grew brighter and brighter with each leap it took until it burrowed down deep enough to contain that light, and the images Ghostwriter showed them zoomed out to show a solar system. And from there, the light flowed all around it, even jumping to other systems, until the light was too bright to contain in those planets and so it became all the light there was. Abruptly there wasn’t any light at all. An emptiness that the soul grew and grew to fill.

“And so in the cold, dark, quiet of the seemingly dead universe, the being that experienced Existing in a way the Realms could not did what it hadn’t the chance to between all its various lives with their fresh starts and clean slated beginnings: remembered. They experienced all that they had gone through, the scope of their life unfolding to be felt in its entirety in a way that could only be done when unbound by flesh and stone and plasma confines.”

The darkness shrunk as the grey light grew, and then the darkness was a ball within a green expanse. “And then they Were, and the universe ended with a bang, as they who I call mother and you can refer to as Queen Death, was born into the Realms properly.” The ball cracked and trembled before exploding in all directions, the bits of the cosmic eggshell being tossed to the edges of what they could see on the table. A being outlined in grey that held every color there was within, spun around in excitement, and reached out, taking one of the fractured shells of her egg and molding it like clay into another ball, then doing the same with another.

For a long moment, the trio stared at the little queen Death making universes all around her, Tucker sipping his tea as he did so. While Danny was still processing and Sam struggled to find her words, Tucker set his cup down and cleared his throat. “So, there’s a lot to unpack there, and I presume that you’re one of those souls that finished maturing inside of their universe - what are your pronouns by the way?”

“Ah yes, those, I go by he and him for now.”

Tucker nodded and hummed. “So there’s a Queen of the afterlife then? Queen Death?” Ghostwriter’s face fell from that of an eager storyteller to something sour, bitter, and full of grief.

“Not anymore, sadly. Once Mother had adjusted to Being, she realized that she too could create in this wonderful place from which she came. She crafted for herself a lovely palace made half from concepts rather than stone or metal or wood, though it was made from all that and more too.” Death was shown molding the very mist around her into an intricate and beautiful landscape and building, before stopping and sitting cross-legged in her throne, tapping her chin. “But Death knew something was missing from her experience, something she’d had once before: companionship.”

Death was shown leaving her castle to go and gather the broken bits of her eggshell, and took them into her palace, before splitting one shell chunk in two and twisting the two into eggs. Green light gathered in each of her palms and flowed into the shells. “Mother made my eldest siblings, who would go on to name themselves Entropy and Peace. Unlike with her own experience with being guided into each new life, mother decided her first children would have a less lonely experience.” Blue light flowed from one egg and golden to the other and back, with the guiding hand of Death.

“Peace and Entropy would know each other in a way few still living gods do, for they were each other at times. And when they emerged, they gazed upon Death’s palace and kingdom with wonder, and they were a happy family.” Blue and Gold silhouettes hatched from their eggs, both donning violet. The three laughed and hugged and danced, crafting and playing. “And Death, and the Realms, decided to create again, and this time they would act together. And this time,” Ghostwriter said with a chill in his voice and his drink boiling, “the Realms would act on their fascination with balance.”

A violet light appeared as Death molded an egg all her own, and it pulsed and dripped with what felt to be oddly malicious. Entropy and Peace went about exploring their mother’s world while this happened and even took a few discarded shells to craft a universe of their own. Death and her children soon went about covering the table in art and Realms, along with Realms simply spawning from nowhere. The dark purple egg hatched, and the other universes shook.

“What if I told you that the force that brought Existence into Being made mistakes? What if I told you that gods can die?” Ghostwriter gestured to seven eggs orbiting each other, bands of light flitting between them all. “The third child of Death called himself War, and he was the first to disrupt things and give Peace a job to do.” War walked over and flicked the bands of light between two of the eggs, forcing the soul out into the Infinite Realms early, and it grew into a small green being. Peace flew over, and gently nudged the being back toward its egg, but not before drawing from within a blade and cutting through the tiny being. It returned to a ball shape and flowed back in.

“Ghosts of the dead, as you might call them, are souls set adrift from the path between lives, and Peace made it his job to take them back where they go. Sometimes War did this many times at once, and I, curious, asked Peace to allow a few to stay. After all, they were going to end up here again anyway, weren’t they? And so, we tried that, and due to the boundlessness and chaotic nature of the Realms these ghosts found themselves evolving and mutating over time, some of them fulfilling a passion from their previous life and finding their way back home into the next life, while others stayed here and grew and grew and even figured out a way to reproduce - sexually and not. Those ghosts born in the Realms from the dead we call Deathless because they never died.”

“So you’re the reason we have ghosts and stuff?” Sam frowned at the Ghostwriter and the story unfolding before their eyes froze. “Because you wanted to see what’d happen?”

“The name I first took was Curiosity, my dear, and actually I was the first ghost, made rather curious for a reason. It was something new. If I may?”

“Sorry.” The writer waved it off and the story continued.

“Peace forged a sword within himself that he used to set free souls that had gone too long outside of their shells, their minds dissolving under the pressure of an eternity they weren’t mature enough for yet. Many of the elder Deathless he granted such Peace granting tools, and so when a ghost went mad with age they were cut down and their soul returned to their egg. But if that were the last of War’s troublesome and destructive actions, this tale would have a happier ending.”

The violet War wrapped himself in black and red and forged within himself a ring and from that ring beat drums and played bagpipes and ripped chords that called out to something burning hot inside of Danny that had his chocolate evaporating out of his cup. “A god or a ghost can craft from themselves an artifact of power that embodies their very self, their greatest passion. Peace acted as a knight to Queen Death, while Entropy became the watcher over things, and War… War crafted his own place, a fortress beyond our immediate sight, and started taking ghosts there.”

War took the tiny green ghosts far from the others and brandished his ring at them, and from it a sickly purple light seeped out and infected the ghosts, turning them a toxic looking blend of green and purple. Danny shivered, and Sam set down her coffee, looking pale and furious. “Before we knew what he was doing, we thought of War simply as seeking conflict, as his name implied. But war, oh war is not just violence, it is imperialism, it is slaughter, it is conquest it is a͜ h҉un̵g̸er̶ ̸th҉at ca̴nnot be sat̶ed ųnt͜i̷l ͜all͢ i͏s͝ c̸o̡ns͢umęd ̕an͏d̴ ̕li̷k͝e͞l̢y̕ ev͜en͢ ͟not t҉he̛n.” The sickly purple and red light spread further and further, seeping into the ground and choking the air.

“When the dead forge artifacts that outlast them, they make them from the ectoplasm of the Realms and have them resonate with that ghost’s soul, thus allowing any Dead, Deathless, or even a living mortal with the same soul or at least born of the same soul as the ghost who made it to use it. When one of us does it though, well, we’ve got a universe worth of energy to work with, replenished by the Realms, so we reach inside and forge our relic from our own soul, and a bit of ectoplasm. Queen Death made her crown of Fire as a light to keep back the darkness, and to assist her in managing the ebb and flow of souls across the cosmos.”

The palace courtroom came into view and violet War marched forth toward his mother, his purple and red, and black ring pulsing with the beat of wrath. “As her Majesty Queen Death put to work her latest project of making systems out of Realms that would regulate themselves, her third eldest child marched into her throne room with a ring made from the collective heat and metals of stars within him, his malice, his corruptive hunger that would take and steal and conquer, and he stole from her what was her own, the Crown of Fire that lit the darkness of the Infinite Realms, and with a sword stolen from a Peacemaker he earned his most hatefully spat title, the Filthy Mother Killer.“ The kaleidoscopic crown atop Death’s head turned sickly and purple-green. A sword the color of bone pierced Death’s center and the whole Sanctuary shook with a screech.

“Peace ran to mother's palace to ask what had happened, for all the Realms felt it when Death died, and oh, how realization crashed down upon that which could call itself the Realms themself, and oh how it wept and oh how it raged, as the sword that would cut free the souls lost and tangled in obsession too deeply to pass onto their next lives alone and gave the infant Realms peaceful deaths was used to reach into Peace itself and oh how the Realms wailed with fury as the Fright Knight was forced into being under the service of the Usurper, and struck even his sibling Entropy, now Clockwork, giving them their famed scar.” Gold was encased in bone white armor and it’s violet cloak ignited. They struck blue Entropy and soon the gods all over clashed, and the tabletop was swallowed by a rainbow of violence and dripped with emerald blood.

“And so, the Corrupter of Worlds threw the Realms into the most horrific war, beyond mortal comprehension, as the gods grieved and raged and fought with all they had, but could barely scratch their elder brothers. Until finally, finally, Clockwork sealed Fright Knight away in the nightmares his sword now caused. And finally, Entropy itself rallied their brothers and sisters and we sealed away the vile Mother Killer in the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep.” Ghostwriter banished the images, his eyes burning amethyst and crimson and he took deep breaths, while the teens leaned back, wary and filled with their own impotent rage.

When finally he seemed to calm, the Sanctuary not writhing and rumbling with the force of his rage, he did a little gesture and the mist coalesced once more into a little stage. A foundation of stone formed and over it lay an ocean and from within it grew a tree of bark and steel, surrounded by breezes likely large enough to dwarf Jupiter’s red spot, mold growing at the bottom of the tree while a star roared to life above it. “Though War was locked away, the Realms did not know rest. So they set to work putting together their daughter's last project: a planar system. And ages beyond time passed, until one day, every god and spirit woke to the sound of a scream. And that, my dear Bridge Spirit, is where I believe your story begins.”

Danny sat there, turning over the story that he’d just been told in his head, and tried his best to process it. He wasn’t sure how to do that, though, with the enormity of it all. So, Tucker cut in for him, like always, but with a rap. “Yo, Danny Fenton, he was just 14-“

“Ai dios- stop!” Danny snorted a laugh and shoved Tucker’s face, and the trio descended into a fit of giggles. “Alright, my story isn’t as much as yours is, but, well.” And so, taking turns picking up where the others didn’t know, they told their story to the Ghostwriter. They could process the meaning of life later.

[the-gay-cryptid]

Why The Prince of Egypt is fuckin amazing

Literally every second of the opening

Ramses and Moses being 10/10 sibling representations making dumbass decisions and almost getting each other killed

The swell of music when Pharoh says the "weak link" line

Moses whistling his mother's lullaby

The the way their voices echo when Miriam and Aaron meet Moses

The music. All of it.

THE DREAM SEQUENCE, HOLY SHIT

Moses horror when he sees the mural

The base and rising dissonance with the line "they were only slaves"

Tuya isn't villianized and very clearly loves Moses as her son and this part makes me emotional okay!

Moses becoming incapable of ignoring the pain of the hebrews anymore

I think if every biblical story were told as beautifully as this movie, I'd still be catholic, goddamnit this movies fantastic

The frantic way Moses removes all his regalia except Rameses ring

The girls trying to pull Moses out of the well

The smug look when Tzipporah drops him back down

The music. Again.

This Is My Home playing as Moses looks over the sheep and his new life

The animation of the burning bush

The voice of God perfectly encapsulates the whole fear/reverence feeling

Fuck me this whole scene is thrilling

Also I had a weird fixation as a kid on the detail that Moses had to remove his sandals while standing on holy ground. This doesnt add anything major to the movie, I just like this scene a whole lot

THE WAY THE PEBBLES ROLL AWAY FROM THE BUSH

THE WHISPERS UNDRLAYING GODS VOICE

FUCKING HELL, THIS SCENE IS SO GOOD AND FULL OF TERROR AND WONDER AND ITS SO BEAUTIFUL AND I LOVE IT

I grew up with this story, and it is just such a perfect representation of how these stories SHOULD make you feel. Obviously this is rarely the case, but this movie does it so perfectly.

The bitter sweetness of Rameses' and Moses' reunion

Look, we all know I'm a sucker for theatrics. I was OBSESSED with the scene where Hotep and Huy conjure the snakes

Moses' snake eating the other two

MOSES RETURNING RAMESES' RING

Moses' humility pretty much throughout the movie

The way the female characters are all drawn with distinct faces and bodies

I really like the water animation, it's so pretty!

ALSO THE WAY THE BLOOD SPREADS IN THE WATER IS REALLY COOL AND DISTURBING

The "blood" Hotep and Huy create not having the same look as the real blood in the river

THE PLAGUES. HOLY FUCK THE PLAGUES. THE SCENE, THE MUSIC, THE HORROR, THE BIBLICAL ACCURACY

The conversation before the last plague between Rameses and Moses. Everything between them is so well written and believable

The last plague. It's a horrifying scene, but not in the same way as all the others. It's a quiet, ominous, haunting terror, and the lack of music is brilliant.

I love the visualization of the angel of death. Although I think it wouldve been cool to have the traditional many eyed and winged horror, the contrast of the wisps of white air carrying the last breaths of all the first borns against the stark darkness is...intense

The rising wailing and agonized screams as the sun begins to rise and as the only sound as Rameses covers his son with the sheet.

Fucking hell this movie gets really intense sometimes

Moses own horror at what has happened and how he sinks to the ground weeping

The rising light, music, and hope as Miriam begins singing

The few soldiers who join the hebrews as they leave egypt

The singing in hebrew

THE COLUMN OF FIRE, WHICH IS ACTUALLY A THING IN THE BIBLICAL STORY AND NOT JUST A BADASS DETAIL IN THE MOVIE

THE PARTING OF THE RED SEA IS FUCKING GLORIOUS AND BEAUTIFUL AND EVERYTHING IT SHOULD BE

THE ANIMALS ILLUMINATED IN THE WATER, FUCKING HELL THIS MOVIE IS BEAUTIFUL

THE WATER RUSHING BACK IN WITH ALL ITS FUCKING MIGHT

the mix of awe and shock on the peoples faces as they look out at the sea, safely on the other shore

MOSES CARRYING THE TABLETS DOWN THE MOUNTAIN AS DELIVER US RISES TRIUMPHANTLY even though the movie ends before he gets to the bottom and learns the hebrews started worshipping a golden calf in his absence, but we're not gonna worry about that

[vintagedaydreams]

The Story That Never Ends (Part ONE-The Hobbit)

Alright, people! I have an absolutely freakin’ awesome person that is going to be collaborating with me on this Never-Ending Story. Give it up for @ramblingwritings​ who is awesome enough to be with me on this out of control wagon! This is just the first part of The Hobbit section– I am working on the other half and will have that updated soon! Once that happens, the next fandom install can be written and uploaded. 😊

This is going to be the story that jumps from Fandom to Fandom as the Reader dies in each. SO, it will be long and probably never really finished. Who knows. There are so many Fandoms to do this with!!

Enjoy!

(If you have a Fandom you’d like to see in it, feel free to drop a line! We have a list going already. But beware, you may be roped into writing some of it if neither of us are familiar with that Fandom! LOL)

Warnings: language, some violence/disturbing imagery (battle, wounds, etc), fantasy (is that an actual warning at this point?)

So without further ado…

@kettnerjanea​

  You were born as you, a human, lived in present time and had knowledge of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien.

You liked all the races, Elf, Man and Dwarf – and sometimes Wizard – but you had really fallen in love with all of the Company of Dwarves during The Hobbit storyline. One in particular!

You had been on your way home from a friend’s house where you had all binge-watched the movies, when a drunk driver hit you. You laid there, broken and bleeding and in so much blinding pain you were sobbing, before you felt darkness finally take you.

You jerked awake, a cry of pain on your lips, but saw that you were in a bed and a room that looked familiar but unfamiliar at the same time.

A dream. You just had a bad dream.

Then you heard voices coming from somewhere else in the house and you swung your legs out from under the covers to get up and saw…hairy feet?!

And then, two sets of memories came hurling at you.

Your life as you remembered: your job, your family, your friends, your slight Tolkien obsession, the walk home, the pain…

And then another set: your life as a Took, running wild with other fauntlings, climbing trees and having adventures, being thicker than thieves with one cousin of yours in particular – Bilbo, your second set of memories helpfully supplied, while the other side of your brain was floundering at the implications.

What was going on?!

And then you were bombarded by a male Hobbit – a Hobbit! – one set of your memories recognized as your Took father and you were bid to hurry up, your coming of age birthday party was that day and there was so much to do!

As you got ready on auto-pilot, you sifted through your memories and yep, you had the last 33 years all there as your life as Juniper Took.

Boy was that going to take some getting used to. No one seemed to be acting any different towards you, but you were definitely out of sorts which thankfully your family chalked up to your excitement of being of Age and able to go and do whatever with no one to ask permission of.

Uh, yeah, that was great too – considering that you’d felt that way long before you became a Hobbit. Thank goodness you “woke up” when you were of Age and not too long before!

And thank goodness you were a Took! That alone could explain away a lot of your oddities you were sure were going to pop up with double memories and the ridiculous amount of confusion you were feeling.

When Bilbo showed up at your party, himself a few years older than you, you were sad to say that you inner fangirled and actually had your favorite Hobbit worried and wondering what on Middle Earth was wrong with you.

You promised to visit him the next day and spent the rest of the party just listening to the instincts and memories of your Took self to not draw too much more attention to yourself. (Thank goodness the Juniper before you got two sets of memories already picked out all the presents for the Hobbits there. You wouldn’t know where to begin as confused as you were now.)

You wanted to listen to your Took side and fully embrace being Juniper Took, but how could you when you could still remember all of your life as a human? And you felt as if you’d been plucked from your life as a human to being thrust into being a Hobbit and how could you just…forget all of who you were and become a Took fully?

You’d lived through your life as human, but you only had memories of living through your life as Juniper Took. Didn’t that mean you were Y/N first and Juniper second?

You’d given yourself a mega headache by the time the party was over and even though you didn’t sleep at all, you were knocking on Bilbo’s door bright and early, worked up into a horrible state – even though your Tookish side was warning  you that it was far too early for any Hobbits to be up after the late hour of the party last night.

Bilbo had blearily opened the door, though both sides of you were pleased to see that his tiredness vanished in the wake of your -probably awful- appearance.

He’d invited you in, got breakfast started and then…then you’d broken down.

“Bilbo, I think I am…crazy.”

The proper Baggins’ blinked at you from the kitchen counter where he was slicing up tomatoes. “Juniper,” he snarked, and you flinched at the unfamiliar name, though he missed it when he looked back down at his counter, “all Tooks are crazy. You’ve known that since you were born – and the whole Shire is aware of it as well.”

Apparently, he was expecting some snarky remark – at least that part of your personality remained the same – but when none came, he looked back up at you.

“Juniper?” he asked and this time, he didn’t miss the flinch you gave. Suddenly, he was standing right beside your chair at the table.

“What is it? Why do you think you’re crazy? What happened?”

You looked up into warm, worried amber eyes and felt tears gather in your own.

“Does this have anything to do with how…odd you were acting yesterday?”

You nodded miserably, finding your gaze landing on the dress you were wearing. Catching sight of your large, furry – furry! – feet you felt a few tears fall down your face.

Who were you now? Not fully Juniper, but certainly not Y/N anymore. You really couldn’t fit in anywhere! Not with two sets of memories, one feeling more real than the other Tolkien one.

“Bilbo…I…” You heaved a sigh. “Perhaps it’s best if we just forget about it.” You didn’t need your close cousin, or one of your favorite characters, to shun you now. The rest of the Shire was only loosely mentioned in the books and movies – Bilbo was the only real tie to the life you knew before at this point!

“Jun—listen here, Favorite Cousin,” Bilbo said firmly, cutting off the use of your Hobbit name when you winced and changing it to the title you’d both bestowed on each other as young fauntlings years ago, “I can see that something is wrong. I’ve been worried since last night, though I thought maybe it was just you finally getting your freedom. But that obviously isn’t it. So tell me: what is it? What is going on?”

Taking a deep breath, you looked up and found both sides of your mind not able to help trusting the warm, gentle Hobbit beside you.

So you told him everything. It took all day and many meals, but you unloaded all of your past life, your present fears and how lost you felt at the moment.

Bilbo had responded by quizzing you on past memories you had of the both of you and you passed with flying colors. Though he looked just as heartbroken as you when you admitted, with a sob, that while you had the memories, you didn’t remember doing them. It was like watching a movie of someone else’s life, just with a lot more detail.

And then, you had to explain what exactly a movie was, which actually made Bilbo believe what you thought as a crazy story.

But then, no Hobbit, Took or otherwise, was able to come up with such things as the life and the technology you described from your…past life.

The thought of your past life made you start crying all over again.

You’d lost your friends, your family, your life, both figuratively and literally.

Bilbo seemed properly appalled for you and had done his best to comfort you.

And he really was good at that.

It wasn’t until you began to tell him that you…well, you knew what was going to happen, that he seemed to be a little less believing.

At first.

“Wait. What do you mean I am going to leave the Shire and travel with a company of Dwarves? Dwarves! And I’m going to go willingly and do what to a dragon?!”

You gave a slight giggle, swinging your now somewhat beloved furred feet as you both sat in the much more comfortable chairs in front of Bilbo’s fireplace.

“Exactly what I said, Bilbo,” you smiled, taking another sip of the delicious tea your cousin always had on hand. (That was one thing you were quite content to embrace about being a Hobbit – the seven meals a day thing was glorious.) “You meet Gandalf the Grey, or…re-meet him I guess?, then the Dwarves and agree to go on their Quest with them. It is an amazing adventure for you. I think…well, I don’t think you’d be complete without it to be honest.”

Bilbo just stared at you, mouth agape before he suddenly hummed and leaned back further into his chair.

“Alright. Say that…say that I believe you, Juniper.” Your flinch was much less pronounced now, though Bilbo still paused.

“There was another name you went by in your…other life, wasn’t there?” the observant Hobbit asked gently, and you found yourself sniffling a bit.

“Yes. But…I’m not that person anymore, apparently.”

“I think you are,” Bilbo said quietly after a moment. “You’re just as much her as you are Juniper. Maybe even more so. You said yourself that you had memories of us throughout the years, memories of your life here, but no memory of actually doing it. But…you remember doing all those things you told me of in your life as a Man, right?”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. It feels…wrong to just embrace Jun-Juniper so readily when I don’t really feel that I am her. Regardless of how I look or where I am.”

There was silence before Bilbo suddenly jumped out of his chair, startling you.

“So! What do I call you?”

You looked at him in confusion, but before you could open your mouth he continued, “Your name in your other world. What was it?”

“Y/N,” you said after a hesitant moment. “It was Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Well, I don’t think we could get away with calling you by your last name here, not with you being a Took all this time in everyone else’s memories, but I could definitely call you Y/N. No one would blink at a new name, we’ve certainly called each other all sorts of names throughout the years. This would just be another of our oddities.”

The Hobbit before you suddenly swept into a deep, polite bow. “A pleasure you meet you, Y/N. Bilbo Baggins, at your service.”

No matter what your Took side said, though it didn’t put up really any protest at all, you flung yourself out of the chair and into Bilbo’s arms.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you practically sobbed, the sound of your own name the only grounding thing you had here.

Bilbo had sent a letter to your family and had invited you to stay with him for awhile. No one questioned it – everyone in the entire Shire knew of the Took and the Baggins who had made a right nuisance of themselves since they met when you were born.

And wasn’t that an odd thing to think of? Bilbo was older than you but you knew about a lot of his life that not only had happened but that was going to happen.

An evil thought crossed your mind.  Perhaps… a little event changing would not be too amiss on the adventure you were going to wiggle your way into with the Company? By your calculations, you still had quite a bit of time left – Bilbo was only a few years older than yourself – a respectable forty to your newly christened thirty-three.

If the Company wasn’t supposed to come until Bilbo was fifty…well, that gave you ten years to try and make your gentle Hobbit a bit more burglar and less ‘grocer’. And if Thorin could find it in himself not to be a dick straight away, well, it’d make your job all the easier. Why couldn’t Bilbo stay in Erober? Why couldn’t the Thorin line survive the Battle of the Five Armies?

Besides, you’d been thrown into this Juniper Took’s body for a reason. And even though you didn’t remember Bilbo being close to really anyone other than the Gamgees in the book and movie, you and him obviously were still close, even before you got another set of memories.

So, if you were thrown here and were already this close to the main character, might as well change a few things up, right?

Right.

-----

It only took you two months to not only grow as close to Bilbo as you had been before you’d added more memories, but also to convince him that an adventure right now, when you weren’t on a time frame, was a really good idea.

You’d needed someone to confide in so much, you’d brought Bilbo into your confidence about everything. Minus your more radical plot changing ideas. It’d be better if he came to the conclusion to stay in Erober on his own.

But he now knew every detail of not only the Company, but the Lord of the Rings storyline too. And he was not thrilled about his coming nephew in the line of fire and danger if he could help it.

He’d agreed that once Erebor was retaken in a decade and some change, he’d help destroy the Ring he was going to pick up along the way.

You’d been adamant that some things had to happen, some bad things. Otherwise, if the Company wasn’t attacked by goblins, how was he supposed to find the Ring Gollum had?

(You’d also wrangled a promise out of Bilbo that he was take you with him, contract be damned, when the time came.)

But for the moment, you were off to see the Elves in Rivendell, as it was the closest.

You had a plan. One that you obviously told Bilbo about as well.

If you two could travel a bit, befriend at least some of the elves, men, what have you, that you’d meet up with on the way to the mountain, maybe the journey would be easier is some spots. Not just for Bilbo, (and yourself), but for the poor Dwarves who had been driven out of their home for decades now.

Bilbo had been almost beside himself hearing about the plight of the Dwarves and their lost home. You’d practically had to hold him back from leaving for the Blue Mountains to find this soon-to-be-king Thorin and start early.

You managed to talk him into not doing that, since it’d screw everything up. No, best to just familiarize yourselves with at least part of the journey’s roads and meet some hopefully helpful characters beforehand.

Though befriending Elves wouldn’t endear either of you to the Dwarves, especially Thorin, but…well, they were Elves and Bilbo was over the moon. Once you’d mentioned Elves, well, it was all you could do to make sure you both actually gathered supplies for the journey, rather than just run out the door.

If you knew that Bilbo’s excitement for the Elves would be this bad, (and you should’ve), you would’ve mentioned Elves two months ago.

Honestly – who was supposed to be the elder of you two? You or him?

You finally got everything situated and had only just left the Shire when who should you both come across but Gandalf the Grey.

His timing really was uncanny at times.

“Bilbo Baggins and Y/N Took. I should have known.”

You and your cousin, (that still took a little getting used to), just gaped at the older, wizened man.

“What….oh! You must be Gandalf then?” Bilbo asked first, (since he didn’t remember him at all from meeting him so long ago), while your brain was still trying to catch up to the fact that the wizard had called you Y/N, not Juniper.

Bilbo cottoned on to that too, because his brow furrowed and he leaned over the pony he was somewhat successfully riding to mutter to you, “That is a little creepy. Like you said. Does he know everything?”

“I am honored that I have been spoken about,” Gandalf cut in, eyes twinkling. “And no. Alas, I do not know everything, but in this case, I think, I may know just enough.”

You were aware you were an odd sight, a female Hobbit, Took or no, astride a pony in breeches and a blouse and vest, and gaping quite unattractively at the wizard.

But…he’d called you by your real name!

Well, it definitely made things easier if he already knew everything. There were still things you had probably forgotten to tell Bilbo – it was hard to remember every little thing between four books, six movies and all the years of your previous life. Not to mention the thousands of fanfictions.

Yes, there was probably something you had forgotten to pass on – Gandalf knowing everything already would be so much easier.

“Off to see the Elves?” Gandalf asked from his own horse and you and Bilbo both grimaced.

“Yes,” you muttered after a moment, “that is creepy.”

The wizard laughed.

“And yet, you know more than I about events about to unfold.”

“Yes, but I have a good excuse,” you said somewhat petulantly. “And I don’t have any idea what’s going to happen in the next ten years. Only when the Company arrives. Before that I’m just as lost as everyone else.”

“Then this will be good for the both of you,” Gandalf decided with another eye twinkle. He really was starting to remind you of Dumbledoore. Huh. Dying and ending up in the Harry Potter world would have been fun too.

“Perhaps you would allow a lonely old man to accompany you on your travels. It has been some time since I’ve seen my old friends in Imladris.”

You and Bilbo exchanged another glance and then you both shrugged in tandem. The past few months, you had been speaking with Bilbo not only about your life as human you and the story of what was to come, but also more in depth about the memories you had as Juniper.

You had never felt closer to anyone than you did you Bilbo. And, he’d told you one night, he felt closer to you now than he did when you were just Juniper with only Juniper’s memories.

Cousins, nothing. You and Bilbo acted like twins, despite the age difference.

“Sure, Gandalf,” you said with a grin, “we’d love the company. Might as well get to know you well know, yes?”

You three started off again and then Gandalf cast you a sidelong look.

“I assume you’ll be joining the Company then in a few years’ time?”

You gave as innocent a grin as you could with Took blood, “What on earth would make you think that?”

Gandalf chuckled yet again.

“Two burglars for the price of one. I think Oakenshield will find that acceptable.”

Gandalf’s eyes widened a bit when Bilbo didn’t react at all – no questions, no concerns, just a placid smile.

“He knows all about the Company and the…Adventure then?”

You gave a grin, not even bothering with trying to be Innocent. “Yup! Gandalf, I can’t keep secrets from my brother!”

“Cousin,” Gandalf corrected, though it was more a question and you felt something warm unfurl in your chest when Bilbo spoke up, “Brother.”

The three of you traveled slow and sedate, giving Bilbo, (and yourself), much needed practice on the ponies. It wouldn’t do for the Company to see you as burdens right off the bat. Better to lull them into a false sense of security first.

Gandalf was ridiculously helpful once he realized that you and Bilbo both planned to help the Company as much as possible.

You didn’t tell Gandalf all, but just enough for him to understand that the Dwarves were going to have a hard journey. But that you and Bilbo were determined to spend the next ten years trying to smooth the way as much as possible and learn as much as you could to actually be helpful. Right from the start.

Arriving in Rivendell was amazing for both you and Bilbo. While you had seen it in the movies, it was so much more magical and breathtaking in person.

Bilbo wasn’t fairing any better, being in absolute awe himself.

Lord Elrond came and greeted you by your human name as well and you gaped, once again, unattractively at the Elf lord.

Gandalf knowing made sense but how did – then you remembered Elrond’s gift of foresight.

“You saw me coming!” you pretty much accused the Elf lord, much to Bilbo consternation and Gandalf’s amusement.

“I did, Lady Y/N,” Elrond affirmed, his own amusement shining through. “Myself, as well as Lady Galadriel, saw what would happen to you in your own world and how you would come to be here in ours. I must say, you have shown remarkable adjustment to the situation. And much quicker than we had imagined.”

You flushed, but sent a very thankful, meaningful look to Bilbo.

“If it wasn’t for my brother, I wouldn’t be half as adjusted,” you murmured and gave a soft laugh as you saw Bilbo flush as well. What a pair you two were.

“Come,” Elrond said after a moment, “you are most welcome here, for as long as you wish. I have seen great things in store for the both of you.”

Bilbo looked at the Elf lord in surprise. “For the both of us?”

You snorted before Elrond could answer.

“Bilbo. I may be from another world, well…half of my mind may be from another world, but you are the main character! If anyone should be asking if we both have great things in store for us, it should be me. Not you. Besides, I already told you at least part of the great things you have in store for you.”

“Yes, Master Baggins,” Elrond said with a gentle smile, still with amusement dancing in his eyes, “great things are in store for the both of you. But before we get into any of that, you must be tired. I imagine that traveling this far, and on ponies, is different for you both. Come, let us show you to your rooms and get you settled.”

It hadn’t taken long before you and Bilbo were both settled, fed and asleep in your rooms. It had been a long journey, even though Gandalf had not been in any hurry and you had had frequent stops and rests.

The next morning at breakfast, Bilbo had laughed at how much he had appreciated a soft bed after only a week on the road. He admitted, as you agreed wholeheartedly, that it was a good thing you were both traveling now and getting used to this before the Company arrived.

Ten years sounded like a lot to the human half of your mind, but the Tookish half didn’t seen daunted. Ten years wasn’t much to a Hobbit and you had to use the next years well.

The journey to the Elves had given both you and Bilbo a yearning for more adventure and an excitement for the Company’s journey.

When Elrond suggested you stay for awhile in Rivendell to get familiar with it and its people, you and Bilbo both readily agreed.

After all, that was the point of all this traveling – to try and make the journey as easy as possible for your soon to be Dwarven companions.

“You and Bilbo are quite brave to undertake all of this extra journeying,” Elrond had said one day as he found you standing on the balcony of your room. Honorifics had been dropped the second day you were all there – mostly for your benefit. It wasn’t your fault that honorifics weren’t a thing in your world, or high in priority for the Took side of you either!

“I’m not sure brave is the best word,” you laughed, turning to the Elf lord beside you. “But I wasn’t sure I could stay in the Shire any longer. A few months was bad enough with my…confused state. And I’d been at Bilbo’s almost the entire time – we needed to get away. I couldn’t go…home.”

Because your home was worlds away.

A large hand settled gently on your shoulder.

“Galadriel and I have been watching you since before the day you awoke here in this world. You have shown remarkable bravery, Y/N. Your world is a lot different than ours and while the Took side of you is helpful in settling you here, we are aware of how torn you feel. How…unreal this body and the memories of Juniper Took are to you.”

The Elf lord paused for a few moments, though his hand did not leave you.

“I had elves ready to come to the Shire and take you here so we could help you adjust, but Galadriel had sent a message to tell me that she had foreseen your Took side’s cousin – Bilbo – helping you and becoming an invaluable companion. We were both pleased, though not shocked as we have come to know you before and after you awoke as Juniper, that you chose to use the next few years to help smooth the way for your Company. Erober is almost ready for its rightful ruler to return. It does our old hearts good to see how you and Bilbo are preparing yourself for the journey. You shall be invaluable to them.”

You blinked back tears, feeling a small piece of yourself settle. Elrond and Galadriel, they knew. Yes, Bilbo knew about your time, but only because you had told him. The two Seers knew of your time, of who you were because they had seen it. They knew you.

And it was a wonderful feeling.

You felt yourself get pulled gently into Elrond’s embrace and let loose a soft sob.

“I miss technology,” you muttered into his chest and the answering chuckle, the knowledge that Elrond knew what you were talking about without you having to explain it, made you sob just a little bit harder.

Elrond had escorted you to dinner, (seriously, best thing about being a Hobbit was the enormous capacity for food!), and then you and Bilbo had gone to the library to begin some research.

Just wandering around the whole of Middle Earth was not probable, especially with Orcs, Goblins and bugs out there, so you both needed to learn as much as you could bookwise. At least for now.

You also didn’t want Bilbo to be presumed dead, so no super long adventure yet. Hopefully, with you and Bilbo taking short adventures that turned into longer and longer adventures, Hobbiton would be used to Bilbo being gone and he wouldn’t have to chase down his silverware. (You were dying to meet Galadriel, Haldir and Thranduil, but you could be patient. …Probably.)

All of the Elves had been ridiculously nice and welcoming.

You and Bilbo had found kindred spirits in Elrond’s twin children; a bond that the majority of Rivendell looked on with good natured suspicion. You and Bilbo were terrors in your own right, but coupled with Elladan and Elrohir’s pranking…well. Rivendell was a bit livelier while you were there.

Being Elrond’s children, the twins knew of your…origins and had question after question for you. But they were also observant and kind enough to see when it pained you to speak of what you’d lost and they’d find excellent ways to distract you. (You felt kind of bad that Lindir was so traumatized so many years before the Company came, but as he seemed to have a soft spot for you Hobbits, you didn’t feel bad enough to stop.)

Both you and Elrond had felt it better that Estel not see you. At least, not at this time. He wasn’t even two decades yet, had a few more years to go, and really, you didn’t trust yourself around how adorable he was.

Being as small as you were, (and that was another thing that had taken some time to get used to!), it wasn’t hard for you to avoid the human young man. Though you couldn’t help but sneak a peak as often as you could without getting caught. You were right – he really was just too cute! Arwen was going to be one lucky lady.

You and Bilbo had been in Rivendell for almost two months when you decided that you’d need to head back to the Shire. Reminding Bilbo of the trouble he would have getting his stuff back from those who thought him dead after his trip with the Company, Bilbo quit arguing and was more than willing to head back. (He had to admit that your idea of slowly getting the Shire used to him being gone for months at a time would be beneficial in the long run.)

Gandalf accompanied you all the way to Bree and then you and Bilbo were on your own back to Hobbiton. You had already sent word to your parents that you were unofficially having adventures and now living with your honorary brother. Your parents, proud and adventurous Tooks that they were, were overjoyed that you’d come into your own adventures – and drug along a Baggins too! You secretly thought they were just thrilled he was ‘embracing’ his Took side.

“I think,” Bilbo’s voice cut you from your musings, “that we have had a very successful first two months of Adventuring.”

You gave a laugh, both of you so much more at ease on your ponies than you were when you first started. Elladan and Elrohir had been more than willing to teach you the Ways of the Pony.

“Yes, Bilbo. We did good. Very good. Those notes you took about the people and the copies of the maps in Elrond’s study – those will give us a good place to start for a game plan. Then, maybe in a month or two, we’ll head out again!”

“In a month or two?” Bilbo said, somewhat disbelieving. “I would have assumed you’d want to head out as soon as we found a good direction!”

You gave the Hobbit you seriously loved like a brother a small smile. “I’d love to, but…well, let’s ease into this just a bit. Not just for our sake but for the Shire’s. Give them a little time to get used to the fact that a proper Baggins has been corrupted by his Took relative. And a month at least will give us a solid foundation of where to go and a good rest. Neither one of us are quite used to this, Bilbo.”

The Hobbit riding beside you puffed on his pipe a few more times before nodding decisively. “Another brilliant idea, Y/N. Besides it will give me some time to see what I missed taking care of before we left last time so I can do better this next time around.”

You grinned, feeling the excitement that never truly left you, bubbling up again. Oh, to have such a willing travel partner!

You and Bilbo stayed in the Shire for exactly two months. In the beginning, you listened to your Tookish instincts and made yourself and Bilbo present all over Hobbiton. At the market, at the Green Dragon, everywhere you two could. It showed that Bilbo was still a respectable Hobbit, at least somewhat, and that you were still the wacky Took they all knew. (Even though you were more different than any of them could ever possibly know.)

After Hobbiton had gotten over your sudden disappearance and reappearance – and for such a scandalous thing as an adventure of all things! – you and Bilbo stayed in Bag End more often than not, pouring over his drawings and notes to see what the best route would be. You didn’t know every route exactly that the Company was going to take, but you did know major landmarks.

So you and Bilbo crafted a couple of routes that Company could possibly take and hit those landmarks, as well as a couple of routes the Company could take to avoid a few of those landmarks, (like the Trolls).

“I’m not 100 percent sure,” you murmured thoughtfully one day, puffing away at a pipe that Bilbo had gifted you with your first month here, “but I think that the whole journey only should take a few months. Frodo and Sam take about six months to get to Mordor to destroy the ring, and that’s with a few months stay over in Lorien and Rivendell.” You shot a grin at Bilbo. “Seems like a love of Elves is genetic.”

Bilbo snorted in amusement before turning back to the maps spread out on his dining room table.

“So, only a few months then to get to Erober for us as well?” You both looked at the maps before Bilbo suddenly looked up at you with a wide grin and sparkling eyes.

“We could potentially take the trip multiple times, on multiple routes before the Dwarves even get here!”

You blinked at the once respectable Hobbit – you had created an adventurous monster!

But…

“That is not a bad idea,” you mused thoughtfully, puffing away. Granted, it would be far too dangerous of a trek for two Hobbits by themselves, but if Gandalf, or even an Elf or two went with you…

“I wonder if Elrond would let his sons come with us. Or another Elf or two,” you continued to muse. At Bilbo’s furrowed brow, you started to point out places on the map.

“The Misty Mountains are far too dangerous for us to go on our own. And the Trolls,” you pointed to a spot marked by Rivendell, “doubly not good. Our soon to be companions are going to be a huge help, Bilbo. Alone, you and me? We’d not last more than a week. Especially not through Mirkwood.”

You gave a shudder. Giant spiders you could well do without.

Bilbo hummed in agreement and the two of you lapsed into silence.

A knock sounded on the bright green door and Bilbo huffed before he went to answer it.

“It’s not even tea time,” he grumbled as he passed you and you giggled at his surliness towards anyone the last few weeks that interrupted your planning.

You heard the door open, but nothing else. No greeting, so well wishes, no grumbling.

Feeling uneasy, you slowly crept to the doorway to the dining room so you could peak around the corner.

“Haldir!” you exclaimed, old fangirl tendencies rushing to the surface. Forgetting all propriety, (did Tooks even know what that was?), you flew passed Bilbo and collided with the Marchwarden’s legs.

Bilbo stared at you in shock, but thankfully, the Elf who’s legs you were embracing, just chuckled.

“I have never doubted my Lady’s word, however I must admit I was a bit…hesitant to believe. I’m glad to see my faith in my Lady was not unfounded. You are Y/N and you already know all about me and the Lady’s Woods, yes?”

You didn’t even let the blush that tried to work its way onto your cheeks see the light of day. So you were brash and literally just glomp attacked an Elf. Haldir. Marchwarden.

Who cared?!

“Yup!” you chirped, drawing a chuckle from Bilbo as well. “I do know you, Haldir.” You took a few steps back, getting a better look at Haldir and the small party of Elves standing a few feet behind him.

“Won’t you please come in?” Bilbo offered, taking a step back out of the doorway and grasping your sleeve to pull you with.

You went with him easily, still grinning. Sue you. You freakin’ loved Lorien’s elves. Especially this particular one.

“Thank you, Master Baggins,” Haldir said smoothly, entering past you both. The few other Elves followed and you and Bilbo shared a look that would have been followed by an excited high pitched squeal if you were alone without Elven visitors.

In no time, food was prepared, Elven guests were attended to and Haldir was finally explaining what he was doing in the Shire and at Bag End, when he had never met either of you before.

“We have an audience with the Elvenking Thranduil,” Haldir began, “but do need to see Lord Elrond before we arrive in Greenwood. As we had to cross the Misty Mountains anyway to reach Imladris, my Lady Galadriel suggested we stop by and see if you both would like to accompany us. She has informed myself and my small party here as to your plan for the next few years. It is admirable. My guards and I saw no reason to not lengthen our journey by a mere few weeks to come and escort you all the way to Greenwood, should you wish it.”

Thankfully, you were not the only Hobbit gaping this time. Bilbo’s jaw was also hanging down practically to his waistcoat buttons.

The Elves said not a word while they waited for your response, but you could feel the amusement radiating from all of them.

Clearing your throat, you squeaked out, “Yes! We would be honored to accompany you.”

Bilbo finally shut his own mouth, nodding along with your statement. Honored indeed – this was perfect! Just what the two of you were needing!

Haldir bowed his head in acknowledgement.

“Excellent. We would like to get started as soon as possible; as soon as you can set your house to rights.”

“Well,” Bilbo said, throwing a grin at you, “we’ll be ready by tomorrow morning then. We’ve been preparing this house to be vacant ever since we got back a couple of months ago.”

Haldir’s eyes twinkled as he looked from you to Bilbo and back again.

“We are glad to hear it,” he murmured with a small smile.

You and Bilbo just had a few more odds and ends to tie up, both with the neighbors and around the house before you got to packing for your journey.

Surprisingly, or perhaps not so surprisingly, the Elves had slipped in to the Shire mostly unnoticed and so you were able to let the neighbors know simply that you off again on another adventure.

This time, few brows were raised, though there were some head shakes.

For the hundredth time, you were thankful you were shoved into a Took’s family line! How boring it would be to live all your long life in such a nice, but boring place as the Shire!

The next morning, right before daybreak, the Elves, Bilbo and yourself headed off towards Rivendell once again.

The Elves had mentioned that they were on foot as they were used to it with the close, tall trees of Lorien, though they mentioned that they could get some ponies and horses at Bree, should you both prefer it.

You and Bilbo had both elected to stay on foot – as long as the Elves wouldn’t mind the slightly slower pace.

At the elegantly raised brows, you had mentioned how often the Company would have to walk. Might as well get used to it on at least part of your journey at some point!

That started off some questions from the Elves and you and Bilbo both willingly answered them all. Elves were a calm race that you both trusted implicitly to not go and try to bungle things up. It wouldn’t hurt to have them know some of the finer details, and indeed, they actually contributed quite a bit of useful information.

Along the way, they all pitched in to help you and Bilbo learn of both edible and medicinal plants. Being Hobbits, (one of you perhaps more of a true Hobbit than the other), you and Bilbo took to learning more about plants like ducks to water. Bilbo, begin a Baggins, did have more knowledge than you did as a Took, but even he learned new things along the way to Rivendell.

Your stay in Rivendell was much shorter than last time. Only two nights while Haldir met with Elrond and you and Bilbo enjoyed the Elvish comforts.

Elladan and Elrohir found you the last night you were there, having just come back from Orc hunting. You were once again on the balcony of your room, looking out over the beautiful city.

“Y/N!” they greeted in tandem, making you smile fondly. These two did remind you of the Elvish version of Fili and Kili – you were getting more and more excited to meet the Company, even though not even a year had passed yet!

“Greetings, my Twin Terrors,” you grinned as they stopped in front of you, greeting you happily.

Elladan gave you the puppy eyes as his hands rested on your shoulders and with a good natured eye-roll, you nodded.

With a wide grin, the Elf reached down and picked you up. It was a habit they had formed the last time you were here – carrying you around and manhandling you onto chairs or tables.

Unlike Bilbo, you really didn’t mind being carried or helped onto ponies, beds, tables, etc. You found yourself still thinking you were your human height more often than not, especially now that everyone you spent time with called you Y/N instead of Juniper. So extra help to get front point A to point B, especially in a ‘tall folk’ city – that was perfectly fine with you!

Placing you on his shoulders, Elladan headed out of your room and down the hall, he and Elrohir pestering you with questions about what you were doing here.

As soon as you told them, they both ground to a halt.

“You’re going to Greenwood? Across the Misty Mountains?” Elladan gasped and you flicked him in the forehead.

“Elladan,” you started, sickly sweet, “I know you’re not about to protest that I can’t do it.”

“Well…no,” the twin hedged and you flicked him again.

“And I know that you’re not implying that Haldir and his wardens can’t protect Bilbo and I—”

“Of course not!” Elladan said vehemently and you grinned, wrapping your arms around his head.

“Good!” you chirped. “I am glad to hear it.”

“However,” Elrohir cut in, “you should still be prepared.”

You looked down at him from your perch on Elladan’s shoulders.

“What? Prepared? How?”

Elrohir and Elladan shared a grin before they announced, “A weapon!”

Surprisingly, it didn’t take much for both Elrond and Haldir to agree that you and Bilbo both should have some weapons.

You grinned at Bilbo’s face but causally just said, “Sting.”

Bilbo gave up his protests after that. Haldir and his wardens had already sworn to teach you as you travelled to Greenwood and it would give you all something to do while you walked that far.

Before the night was out, you and Bilbo each had weapons – Bilbo an Elven sword, (that you already claimed once he found Sting years down the road), and you with two Elven daggers.

You were actually quite excited to learn how to use them. You were not going to be useless when the Company came around! (And if there was a certain bald dwarf you had been thinking of the more you and Bilbo talked about the Company, and that same bald dwarf you wanted to show you could hold your own to, well, that was for you and you alone to know. Besides, it would be years before you saw any of the Company. By then, you’d probably forget what they all looked like with no visual reminders anywhere.)

You all left Rivendell the next morning, Bilbo up in front of the line with a few of the Elves telling him stories of Lorien, and you and Haldir more in the middle, enjoying each other’s company and silence. You were only a few hours away before Haldir finally turned to you.

“Y/N,” he said suddenly and you looked up at him with a grin.

“Yes, Haldir?”

“I noticed that in Imladris, last night, Lord Elrond’s sons seemed to…that is…,” the Elf trailed off and you frowned in thought before suddenly laughing.

“You mean they liked to carry me around? Yes, they found it incredibly amusing last time we were there a few months ago. Their favorite past time according to them.”

The Elf’s brows rose. “And that doesn’t offend you?”

You giggled – something you never did as a human. Must be a Hobbit thing.

“No,” you assured, “it doesn’t offend me at all. I am used to being much taller, you see, and especially in places made for taller folk, it’s actually quite nice to not have to walk all the way.”

You threw a glance at the back of Bilbo’s head with a grin. “Though, I think I may be one of the only Hobbits that feels that way.”

“And why, do you think, the Sons of Elrond found such delight in carrying you?” Haldir asked a moment later and you gave a shrug.

“At first, I honestly thought they were doing it be annoying,” you confessed, delighting in Haldir’s chuckle, “but…I don’t know. They just seemed to do it all the time the last few weeks were there and I guess I got used to it too.”

There was silence again for awhile before you felt a hand on your shoulder. Quizzically, you turned to look up at Haldir who was smiling down at you.

“May I?” he asked and you laughed with a nod.

You’d gotten some looks when Haldir first lifted you up, though instead of putting you on his shoulders, he carried you bridal style in his arms. Which was fine with you. It was much easier to talk and you could admit that you were still not used to traveling as much as you were.

Teasingly, you called to Bilbo to see if he wanted a ride as well, and when one of the Elves moved as if to pick him up, you all laughed at his indignant squawk.

Well, you and him did differ in a few obvious ways.

Haldir and a few of the other Elves carried you on and off and your trip to Mirkwood. You did try and walk frequently, but after all, you still had about nine years to get used to traveling. If the Elves didn’t mind carrying you, well, you wouldn’t mind being carried!

Bilbo was holding up very well. While the Elves set a decent pace, it wasn’t anything as rushed as what the Company would be doing later on, so it was easier for both you and Bilbo to get used to it.

It wasn’t until the morning after you all camped at the edge of Greenwood, while you were all packing up to enter the gloomy forest, that you approached Bilbo about being carried himself.

“Absolutely not,” he denied, curls flying with his shaking head. “I am not going to be carried like some—”

“Careful,” you sing-songed to him. “Don’t offend me now, brother.”

Bilbo fondly rolled his eyes. “I have absolutely no issue with you being carried. In fact, I think that pretty much every male you come into contact with has some desire to protect you or something and feels better about being able to carry you around. But, I am not going to join in!”

“Bilbo,” you said quietly, seriously, “we’re at the edge of Greenwood. Now called Mirkwood. You remember the awfulness I told you about that is in Mirkwood? This is not a place you’re going to want to walk. And even if it was, this is not a place we’re going to want to stay in any longer than we have to! The forest is not good, Bilbo. Not good. Please? Would you just allow yourself to be carried until we reach the Elvenking’s palace?”

You pulled out the puppy dog eyes you discovered you excelled at a month into knowing Bilbo. You only used them in very dire situations – you didn’t want him to become immune.

Bilbo glared at you for a moment before heaving a sigh.

“Alright,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. “Alright. You haven’t led us astray yet, or kept anything from me. If you…if you think it’s really necessary, then I will let someone carry me.”

“Excellent choice, Bilbo,” Haldir said as he walked up to you both. All the Elves were ready to go and waiting. “We are ready if you two are.”

You finished tying up your pack before you were scooped up into Haldir’s arms.

Bilbo was still grumbling as another Elf scooped him up into his arms.

You tried to smother your giggle as Bilbo continued to mutter under his breath. You had meant it – it was good for Bilbo to not walk through Mirkwood. But…boy, were you still going to enjoy this!

It didn’t take long for Woodland Realm Elves to catch up with your procession.

Lady Galadriel had already sent along a message to inform King Thranduil that you and Bilbo would most likely be accompanying her Marchwarden, so you were not a surprise to the scouts.

However, they surprised you. One minute, you were in Haldir’s arms, looking around at the tall trees, dark they were, and the next, you were staring into the very close face of a very familiar looking Elf.

“Legolas!” you greeted with a large grin. The blonde Prince blinked, exchanging a glance with Haldir before turning his eyes back to yours.

“You know of me, Little One?”

You blinked too, for a moment. Oh. Seems Lady Galadriel hadn’t told them of you. Well, it was going to be different having to explain all of this again. And…how much to tell the Woodland Elves? After all, there was no love lost between them and the Company… And while Thranduil was one of your favorite Elves, he was actually the root cause of quite a few problems. Not to mention that the Company pretty much hated him…

Shoot.

“Uh, yes,” you said after a delayed moment. A very delayed moment that was a little worrying, if the tightening of Haldir’s arms around you was any indication.

Okay, you could admit it. The whole ‘let’s visit Mirkwood’ idea was actually not one of your better ones. Since Thorin and Co. never told Thranduil exactly what they were doing and where they were going, it stood to reason that you shouldn’t just blurt out their plans like you did to the Lorien Elves. Since Lorien wasn’t even on the way to Erober, they didn’t matter but Thranduil? Oh, he mattered.

Double shoot.

“Legolas, my friend,” Haldir’s voice brought you out of your increasingly panicked musings, “it has been a long road. Perhaps we may continue this in a more comfortable venue?”

Legolas spared you one more glance before nodding and saying something in Elvish and you all moved out.

‘Nice job, Juniper,’ you hissed mentally to yourself. ‘How the hell you gonna get out of this one?’

Maybe Haldir and his Wardens would play along – you and Bilbo could claim you were just here for an adventure! Of course, you know, you’d have to explain exactly why you’re tagging along with a Marchwarden doing his duty, and how you got invited along in the first place, since you’d never met them before… Hey! Now there’s an idea!

You can tell Thranduil about who you are, but just tell him that you took Bilbo along with you to explore the area you’d read about and seen in movies! No mention of the Company, no mention of Erober.

Perfect! Sorta. Granted, Thranduil would figure out you kept things from in in about nine years, but it’d be better than betraying Thorin’s confidence before he’d actually even given it to you. Hopefully Thranduil would be okay with you leaving out some information… You’d hate to have him turn against you in nine years. He really was one of your favorites.

Now, the only problem: how to get Haldir, the wardens and Bilbo to all follow your lead without actually telling them to follow your lead.

Legolas wasn’t stupid. Suddenly shouting to ‘not say anything except for the fact that we’re traveling for funsies’ probably would garner some attention.

Triple shoot.

Your mind had been in a whirl since you met Legolas, trying to figure out all the ways this could go wrong, (and there were quite a few), and then come up with a plan to bypass those ways. In this, you were less successful.

Thankfully, Thranduil was kind enough to have you all escorted to room to rest for what remained of the day before having an audience with the Lorien envoys and meeting his other guests.

You were able to corner Bilbo, as well as Haldir and the other Elves, and told them you’d like to run point on this. Haldir and his wardens agreed easily that your business here was your own – if the Elvenking wanted to know, he could ask you and Bilbo himself.

That part taken care of, you took Bilbo aside, (you were put in adjoining rooms), to quietly hiss to him that he was NOT to mention the Company. You and your origins, sure. And he could say that you and him were just traveling to the places that you’d read about, seen in movies, etc. That would, hopefully, be enough to satisfy Thranduil.

Bilbo was hesitant at first, (lying, even by omission!, to an Elvenking was not really good practice), but when you reminded him that Thorin did not want his quest known, and reminded him of the….slight bad blood between the Dwarf and Elf, Bilbo was suddenly very passionate about keeping all details of the Company to himself.

You had to grin to yourself at that. Okay, so maybe you had been talking up Thorin a bit to Bilbo. Nothing too personal, just enough that Bilbo was growing attached to him, his family and his plight. And hopefully wouldn’t be so put out by his demeanor.

This ‘manipulating the plot’ thing was actually going pretty well – and you still had nine years left!

You were brought dinner in your rooms, were able to wash up, and then you both turned in. You had been informed by Haldir, on his way to his own room, that King Thranduil was going to summon you both to meet with him the next morning. Neither Bilbo nor yourself wanted to screw something up because of sleep deprivation.

Early bed time it was.

[saintheartwing]

Invader Zim: The Pigshit Troll, Part One

Dib didn't like Zim's creative writing stories, and he made that clear to everyone. Now everyone is sure he's the troll going around blasting other people's work and writing horrible, awful things. With his reputation cratered and people despising him...what's to be done? 

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Creative writing! One of the best, easiest ways to express yourself in the school setting. It would be a nice and simple way to boost one's grade point average, too.

But it also told people a lot about the sort of person you were, and that was as clear as could be when it came to the "student" called Zim. Dib was very well aware of that. He scowled a bit as he looked through some of the stories Zim had written, all of them were made available on the school's website just like his was or Zita or Sara or his own sister Gaz's, and there were distinct personalities shining through. Dib had spent a long time reading them in his room, his black, scythe-like hair slicked back a little, adjusting his glasses, wearing his usual black jacket as he looked the stories over.

Gretchen had a lot in common with him. She too liked to write mysteries or science fiction tales. Stories of the fantastic. One particular story had a distinct "Carrie" esque influence, a rather homely-looking girl finding out she had psychic powers and was trying to learn "how to blow shit up with my MIND" as she kept saying to her friends and family around her. It actually ended up working, a Poop cola can shaking about on the table to a pineapple and a watermelon getting blown apart to, at long last, the principal's car going up in a glorious bang right before his eyes, thereby ensuring that she would never, ever again get sent to detention or his office for anything.

Sara's stories showed her strict Catholic upbringing, there was much emphasis on guilt, forgiveness, redemption and religion. She had, however, also shown a clear talent in action schlock, FUN action schlock. Dib was surprised to find himself enjoying her tales of the Saints that she'd adapted into stories for others to read, Saint Sebastian taking more arrows than Boromir in Lord of the Rings, Peter racing for his life to escape a hostile city that wanted to kill him, ducking down every grimy alley he could find, and, of course, her magnum opus was on Saint George, the famous "dragon slayer". Not only did she detail a fantastic fight, but George's refusal to renounce his faith, terrible torture sessions, being sliced and diced on a wheel of swords that STILL didn't kill him before finally being decapitated on a city wall. Sara had clear talent for gripping your attention.

Gaz however, loooooved to write horror stories. One particular story stood out. He was in it. Investigating a haunted house, Gaz had written that Dib had heard a grandfather clock chime when the house had been abandoned for over a hundred years, and the clock couldn't still be working. All of the parts were long since rusted and broken down. Then, he was chased by an axe wielding ghost, cracking through the floor, down into a big dungeon…where even more axe wielding ghosts laid in wait! The ending was a horrible twist one too. He woke up in his bed, all of it had clearly been a dream…until you saw the "OR HAD IT?" at the end, with a special illustration she'd made of Dib holding his own severed head up above his body.

But then it came time to Zim's stories. And were he not wearing that black fake hair and fake contacts, Dib knew the little alien invader would be grinning his zipper-toothed grin with a dark, smug light in his ruby/maroon eyes. That little green-skinned piece of crap.

Zim's stories had serious grammatical errors. Zim's stories had him winning all the time. Zim's stories had him doing disgusting, horrible things to humans and especially to Dib, and to his family. Zim seemed to relish in getting to write all of this down and he LOOOOVED seeing the look on Dib's face when Dib was looking at his smartphone, because he knew, he could tell when Dib was reading one of HIS tales. Dib had a unique mixture of disgust, anger, irritation and revulsion that blended together like a bad smoothie, and Zim was drinking it aaaaaaall in…and loving every second of it.

"This doesn't even begin to make sense!" Dib proclaimed, reading the latest story Zim had written. "Why would I ever, EVER help you…YOU…conquer the galaxy? I've spent my whole life trying to keep you from conquering Earth! Literally, years of my life! You expect me to just do a personality 180 and be like "Irken tyranny is fine"!?" He remarked aloud at Zim, giving him a dark glower. "Oh, and then there's this one, this one here…" He pointed at his smartphone screen. "This one just comes off like a torture porn. How did the teacher let you get away with it? It's just you torturing me for no good reason and rubbing your face in winning. And THIS one expects me to be HAPPY that you're conquering the universe using demonic artifacts so the Irken empire reigns supreme! And then you...kidnap my sister? And you murder people in front of her yet expect us to overlook all that awful stuff because you had a sad past? My childhood has sucked, I didn't grow up to be a megalomaniacal sociopath like you!"

"Bully for you." Gaz remarked with a grunt. "Dib, it's just some fanfics and stories, it ain't a big deal."

"Yeah well maybe not, but it's still gross to me, okay? And if he wants to write about it, I get to complain about it. That's my freedom of speech." He grunted back as Zim smirked and stuck his tongue out at Dib. He had a nice, easy way to get under the human's skin and there wasn't anything he could do.

Nobody had any idea how bad it was going to get.

The next day, their English teacher Nick called the students to pay attention at the front of his class as he walked in, his expression solemn, quiet and disturbed. "I found some…very insulting, horrible reviews put up on the school website, reviewing the stories. I would like whoever wrote them to come forward." He intoned, the rather hairy-armed and hairy-chested young man sighing as he folded his arms over his green t-shirt, Dib looking from him to Zim, then to the rest of the class as they immediately took out their phones to check.

Sure enough, the reviews were astoundingly cruel. They weren't even competently put together.

"THIS STORY IS PIG SHIT! THIS STORY IS PIGSHIT!"

"PIGSHIT FUCK YOUR PIGSHIT NARDS YOU DERPIN PAN!"

"THIS STORY IS PIGSHIT!"

"REVIEW MY STORIEZ! u/3211346 REVIEW MY STORIES OR I WILL FIND YOU IN REAL LIFE AND FORCE YOU!"

"Sheesh." Dib frowned. What the heck was all this? It was all in caps. And it had been left not only on stories done by his classmates, but on other classes too. It was odd…nothing linked them at all. After all, the classmates in the grade older than him were super focused on that silly show "Moon Sailor". And Gaz's class, except for her, had all written tales about "Nakuro the Ninja", they were reeeeaaally into anime and manga lately.

"I don't want to believe anyone in my class wrote these reviews but all of the English teachers are asking their students. So…whomever may be behind these? Step forward."

And that's when some of the kids looked right at Dib, murmuring and muttering amongst themselves as Dib glanced back.

"Why are you all looking at me?" He wanted to know, frowning.

"Your stories didn't get that many bad reviews." Sara remarked.

"I still got some, though!" Dib protested. "Besides, that's not a good enough reason to think I did it!"

"But you're always complaining about ZIM'S stories really furiously and being all pissy." Said Zita.

"Why would I leave an anonymous review complaining about his stories when I've always been open about the fact I hate him?" Dib inquired. "I'm gonna all of a sudden decide after years of complaining about him to hide my complaining behind a mask because…why?" He wanted to know. "Furthermore, all of the "pig shit" reviews are advertising someone ELSE'S stories, not mine! That's not my account he linked! And I'm not even interested at all in those ninja stories or those silly Moon Sailor tales, look at the ones I favorited or left signed reviews on, none of them are in those fandoms. I'm not interested in them, so why would I leave any kind of review, even a raging, hateful one on them? Wouldn't I leave one on something I actually care about enough to get angry or furious over?"

"Yeaaaah, but there's a LOT of hatred in these reviews, and you're the only one in class who gets THAT mad about Zim stories." Gretchen confessed. "It does look kinda bad."

"But whenever I complained about Zim's stories, it was because they were so mean and cruel and misanthropic and Zim was just getting away with being a jerk! I laid out all my points well. And I sure didn't just write in all caps and with bad grammar!" Dib added. "You can't just assume I did it!"

But the kids murmured and muttered amongst themselves as Dib frowned, turning away, Zim sniggering at his misfortune. "Yeah, real funny, Zim. Real funny."

The rumor spread through the school. Poor Dib kept getting really insulting messages left for him on all of his work. Even when none of it even MENTIONED Zim, he got the horrible reviews, accusing him of being a troll, of being "Pig Shit".

"Look at this!" He told the guidance counselor, Mr. Thildari….before he remembered the man with soft white hair and a soft yet dark voice was literally blind and couldn't see it. He wore a white long-sleeve shirt and white pants and sat next to Dib on bean bag chairs in the nice "safe space" he'd set up in his office.

"Could you read it aloud?" The man softly inquired.

"Yeah…sure." Dib sighed. "Heh-hem. "you bash stories all time about Zim, tbh and you bully authors here. you are just as bad as any villain you're bitching about so get the fuck over yoself you preachy hypocrite. if i see more writers quit their storys because you a sneaky, evil person karma will come for you. i hope you believe in Jesus because yo gnna need him and the good Lord to save your sorry ass from going to hell".

"My, my, how very rude of them."

"It gets worse. Some garbled nonsense here too. "nvkdfjsl:Derpin pig shittin h*** humpin nards suckin pan!" And THEN there's " You big fat white nasty smelling fat b*** why you took me off the m*** schedule with your trifling dirty white racist a** you big fat b*** oompa loompa body a** b*** I'm coming outside and I'm going to beat the f*** out of you b***". I mean really?! Oompa Loompa body?! Racist?! Where's all this coming from? And then this guy calls me the q word! What is WRONG with these people?!"

"There has to be some way to stop it." Mr. Thildari remarked softly.

"I don't know HOW. How am I supposed to convince them it isn't me?" Dib groaned, burying his face in his hands as Mr. Thildari gently stroked over his back, and quietly sighed. "What could possibly be good enough for them?"

"I wish I could tell you." The guidance counselor told him. "All I can do is promise you, I'll be here to talk to you. To be as a shoulder to cry on."

"I'm glad you're so good at it." Dib confessed softly as he wiped his eyes on his sleeve, sniffling a bit, trying to fight back tears. "People don't realize how…how fuckin' SHITTY it is. It's this daily grind, waking up every day to see nothing but shit flung at you just for having an opinion they don't like, for trying to make the world a better place, for trying to hold people accountable for the awful things they say and do."

"Well Dib, remember, Zim has the right to write stories, even if you think they're awful or dark or cruel."

"Yeah…sure. Doesn't mean I don't get to complain about them!" Dib muttered. "Everyone forgets that. They just want to be free to post anything up with no critique. But this? This isn't critique I'm getting, this isn't like me pointing out character inconsistencies or how meanspirited a story feels, this is just bashing, this is just trolling, this is just swears and vulgar crap and yelling. That's not free speech, that's like…HATE speech. So what am I gonna do…" He murmured, burying his face in his hands. "…what am I gonna do…"

…what indeed.

Author's Note: Every single review you see from "Pig Shit" and quoted by Dib is literally word for word either what I've received, or what I've been accused of writing. And Dib's views are my own. And that's all I will say for now.

[san-station]

A Quiet Place AU / ATEEZ (Post-apocalyptic)

Chapter 3

↝Word count: 2139

Description: In a world full of silence and dangerous creatures seeking for blood, a group of friends have to survive for their own good and find the safe place they’ve heard about months ago.

Pairing: OC x San

WARNING: cursing most of all.

・・・・・・・・

Rollercoaster

The fourth floor of the old damaged building was my place, my comfort zone, the only moment where I could be entirely alone with my thoughts, my feelings, my sorrows and my draws. The four gray aged and dingy walls were covered by my creations on every blank space that once were painted with cute bird patterns. Five months ago, when we found the place, I was depressed, my parents death followed me everywhere, so much that nothing mattered to me anymore. The twelve of us traveled afoot for over six days to finally reach the end of the forest we were hiding for, at least, the past month. The tan and shaped boy, Lucas, got lost a whole fucking day in the woods when he decided he wanted to pee because was too shy to do it near us. Fucking kid… We’d splitted in two groups of four and the three left had to stay in the encounter spot. Misuk, Jongho and Yunho stayed while we silently looked for any sign of the cinnamon colored boy. I'm not gonna lie, my heart ached when Lucas got missing, he was one of the amusing boys that kept us underground and kinda happy. While he was wandering around looking for a perfect spot, he’d felt in a huge hole of human bones and was too afraid to give us any signal (not that he could scream either). He had scratched his knees and hands and was afraid of any infection so, the moment he saw us, tears decorated his great looking face while Mingi and Wooyoung helped him climb the slippery ground. 

“I swear I’ll never pee again”, he signed shaking his head and moving forward to the encounter spot for water to clean the minor injuries.  After that, we found ourselves in a half-destroyed city, the place was literally torn in two ‘cause the government thought bombs would do their purpose and annihilate everything in their paths. Wrong. Thousands of people had died in the incident and just a little amount of the monsters. But eventually everyone mad about it died or had better things to do, like, survive for example. We couldn’t find a sustentable home over there, so we kept walking a mile away from the city until we realized this old and abandoned building with its eight floors and its amazing basement.

My fingers moved away from the smooth side of the wall, the green splash coated the black under it to mixed the colors and picture a beautiful pickup as finished work. I’ve been painting a whole zoo in the room for my own pleasure. And because most of animals were extinct by then; if you saw a bird, a rat or a racoon, they would probably be slaughter a minute later due to the sounds they made by instinct...  The paints were a gift Seonghwa and Mingi gave me to help my depression. It kinda worked, it was the right time to be oblivious. I smiled watching the glorious bird, for obvious reasons (lack of paints) I only could draw it in green, black and yellow, but that didn’t make it less wonderful. The problem with my comfort zone was that I didn’t want anyone near it for two good reasons: number one, it was my spot, they all knew I was usually painting and shit, and for that, concentration is the motto. Number two, half of the animals I drew had a straight thin red line underneath their mouths to remember those species were forever gone. 

My hands were covered in green and black from tip to my wrist but I didn't care when I cleaned my sweaty forehead staining all half of my face in the process. 

Hongjoong suddenly walked into the room slowly with two cups of whatever that was, he and Seonghwa were the only ones allowed to come inside because they wanted to assure I was okay with my panic attacks. I wasn’t even paying attention to him, I was focused on that animal and his grace… it needed the final detail, so I crunched and grabbed the red paint on the floor next to the few lefts I had. I opened it, clean my middle right finger with my little painted towel specifically used for that, and then I let my finger separate the head off of the bird’s body. I sighted and stepped back to admire the result. However, without any warning my back collided with Hongjoong’s body and I holded a scream facing him, as a reflect, I almost threw a punch to his face. My wide eyes saw the mullet boy grabbing the cups hardly while he smile at me in surprise. 

“I like it”, he whispered motioning to the bird with one of his occupied hands. As fast as I could, I covered his mouth with my green-black hands.

“No talk, you know we are not safe here”, I signed. Soon after, he extended a cup to me and pointed to an empty place to sit on the floor. He turned around, sat on the cold and all dusty cement and patted next to him. I contained my giggles when I saw his face all covered in paint. 

“Sorry”, I signed pointing at his lips. He glared at himself not finding the cause of my amusement. He then touched his face and looked at his painted fingers. He smiled. 

"Don't worry about it, Ji, now come and sit next to me”, he insisted. 

My feet followed the order and I was now next to him sharing a cup of green tea. I hated tea, he knew I hated it, so why…? 

Hongjoong leaned over me until I felt his warm breath in my ears. 

“Taste it, it's for the nerves.”

I sighed, I was afraid of being caught if he kept talking, so I gestured him to shut the fuck up one more time or I'll end him. He lifted his hands in defeat. 

My lips tasted the hot water with essence and immediately I was ready to spill it out, Hongjoong was faster and begged me with his puppy eyes to drink it all for my own health. That man was manipulative as fuck, so there I was, finishing my disgusted tea with tears in my eyes. 

Two almost imperceptible knocks on the door made us both jerked from our sits, Jongho's smooth whisper alarmed us. 

“May I come in?” 

I slapped my face listening to the young one. Panic was taking over me for like two seconds, but the mullet boy answered putting a hand on my shoulder and looking at the door.

“Wait a minute...” he said as quiet as he could.

Jongho sighed loudly and Hongjoong gave me a judging narrowed eyebrow, he brushed the hair out of my face and cleaned a little of the paint rubbing my forehead with the thumb.

“Ji…”, he started. 

“No fucking way”, I shook my head in denial. “You know he can't, Joong… No one”, I signed abruptly and grabbed the cup off the floor. The next thing Jongho saw was the mullet boy grabbing his arm friendly, escorting him downstairs. I followed behind after closing the door carefully. 

“I just wanted to talk to you, Jiyeong”, he turned to face me and I could tell he looked… sad. It'd been a while since we saw the light-brown haired boy so gloomy about something. He stopped going down in the second floor and yanked his arm from Hongjoong's grip a little bit stronger that he should. “I want to know how she died, Ji… I just…”, he raised a hand and scratched the back of his neck. “I don't know, may-maybe we can go to the same spot and collect whatever is left of her and maybe make a good funeral… I… I don't know, guys…  she deserves it.”

I sighed, the walls around us started to feel like they were closing, reaching each other for one gold: suffocate us, but that’s how I actually felt. If only they knew how hard it was for me to stop thinking about what happened, they’d stop asking questions I didn’t want to answer.

“Jongho… there's no way we can do that”, my whisper sounded harsh, still that wasn't the feeling I wanted to transmit, my heart shrinked from sadness. “The place will be plagued with the odor, her scents...", I stood in the first floor now, Jongho gave me the most concerned face I've ever seen before. I felt like the villain of the story, yet I was being realistic. "The creatures will be around it, Jongho, we can’t risk our lives.” Jongho’s hands turned into fists, I ignored them. I knew his blood was probably boiling in his body but, could you blame him? He was receiving cold water on his face while sleeping. Wake up, Jongho… 

“The moment you step on that rooftop, you'll be gone, we don't need that”, I really wanted to make his dream come true but if it meant losing him, or anyone else, it didn't worth it. At all. 

“We certainly didn't need Misuk's death either”, he spatted a little loud for my pleasure, my body immediately freeze, Hongjoong was next to me after giving the final steps to the main floor. The minor left walking down the hallway to the basement as we heard the footsteps disappear. I rubbed my temples roughly and sighted. 

“Ugh, I didn't mean to sound like that…”, I mumbled after the basement door clicked closed. 

“I know…”, Hongjoong caressed my back with two pats and passed me, “He knows it too, but let him be mad for a second, it’s a kid."

“I didn't know…”, I signed, talking outside was getting me more and more anxious.

“Yeah, they had a thing, not too serious though”, we made our way to the basement again. “But at the end of the world, we all need to be loved.” 

I left out a scoff. 

Oh my God… of course… 

“Surviving is all we need, Joong.”

“Humanity needs survivors, Jiyeong”, the mullet boy opened the door silently and we entered. “How do you think  we can do that if we don't love other people and create families”. Yeosang’s head raised from the kitchen at the sound of Joong’s voice, he had a full plate of cooked fish ready to be eaten. Now he was listening to our conversation while washing his hands on the sink. 

“Stop right there, ugh…”, I sat on the couch beside Mingi, the boy was counting how many plastic bottles will be needed for dinner. I caressed his hair and he smiled still focusing on the bottles.

“Our priority is to survive, not create new human life in this dystopia, you crazy man.”

“I'm not joking”, Hongjoong made his way towards the fridge and had a sip of carrot juice. “Eventually you'll have to find a family too.” He smirked and walked to the other side of the room, were the beds were. My heart ached with the memories of my beloved family.

“I have one already.”

“I'm not talking about us”, he disappeared in his room. A soft “Sup’?” was all I heard before a refreshing Seonghwa made act of presence after he got out of the room with his hair barely wet.

“He’s not wrong, to be honest”, the black haired man smiled while he joined Yeosang and helped him with the green bowl made of leaves that contained eggs and potato salad.   

    “You want a new family, Ji?!”, Mingi opened wide his eyes getting out of his trance, he was surprised and kind of scared. Oh, sweet big boy…

    “No, Mingi, Hongjoong and I were talking about preserving the human race on Earth even though we might all get kill for that”, I speak shrugging not giving it to much care.

   “You’re thinking about having a baby right now?! With Joong?!”, Mingi asked incredulously loud. I breathed and stood up. 

    I felt Yeosang’s gazed and I looked at him, I wanted to smile at his shook face, but then I remembered he was a fucking cinist. 

“I’m all sweaty and dirty, I’m gonna wash myself and then catch y’all on the roof”. I heard Seonghwa’s soft laugh after I closed the ladies’ bathroom door and sighed. 

“Why does Hongjoong have to be the one? It’s not fair” Mingi asked again. The sound of footsteps resonated on the place.

"Shut up, Mingi, they aren’t serious about that”, Yeosang’s voice sounded a bit mad and tired, but he speaked again, more gentle. “Let’s go with the others, she’ll be there soon and this is the first night without Misuk, so Jongho needs us.”

So everyone knew about Misuk and Jongho except for me? What a shitty friend you are, Jiyeong… 

(...)

Masterlist

[oosteven-universe]

Kidz #3

Kidz #3 Ablaze Publishing 2020 Written by Aurélien Ducoucray Illustrated by Jocelyn Joret Lettered by Saida Temofonte    Polly and her sister Sue are here to stay. Some of the boys are OK with that. And others...well, let's just say they're not taking it too well! Can all the KIDZ adjust to this new reality? While still managing to successfully fend off the insane zombie apocalypse happening all around them?    I don’t know how they do it but this is one of the cutest things I have ever seen.  This takes a good hard look at kids and they are going to behave during the zombie outbreak in ways that few would ever have the audacity to do.  Kids may be young, they may make a lot of mistakes but let’s be honest that’s how they learn and grow.  They are also incredibly resourceful, smarter than they get credit for, I remember being a kid and building my own utility belt and taking an old jump rope and creating a grappling hook so I could scale things.  This shows their ingenuity, tenacity, drive and determination all the while reminding us that they are still kids.    I am a huge fan of the way that this is being told.  How we see the story & plot development through how the sequence of events unfold as well as how the reader learns information moves everything forward beautifully.  Through some simple childhood games we are able to see the character development and I feel like something this simple is just a stroke of genius to do.  Everything that we see within these pages not only feels like it's natural and belongs here and as the sisters integrate themselves into the group.  The pacing is fantastic and as it takes us through the pages revealing the twists and turns along the way that helps to create the books overall ebb & flow.    Not once did I ever think that a book like this would be made, let alone thrill me the way that it does.  Yes this is a European import and yes they have such a different mindset than the Western World does and it’s that which makes this so damn good.  Rich really has such a great team working with him to ensure that we get to see what the world has to offer and from the looks of things it is a glorious thing to see.      The interiors here are stupendous!  Not in the usual way mind you because this is literally an all-ages book visually speaking.  Yet the linework is exceptional and the attention to detail that we see is phenomenal, you can tell by the faces, facial expressions and how we see the emotion roll across them.  As an added bonus we see a lot more utilisation of backgrounds than I was expecting and that’s fabulous.  As the backgrounds work within the composition of the panels they create some great depth perception, sense of scale and this overall sense of size and scope to the book.  The colour work is beautifully rendered as well.  The different techniques that we see utilised and how the various hues and tones work within the colours to create the shading, highlights and shadow work are superbly rendered. ​    This is one of those series that takes you by surprise because of the content, the characters and everything that we see.  The writing is incredible and the artwork just belies the weight behind the story.  There is this whole wide world that is now opened up to us through the eyes of these kids, their hopes, fears, dreams and so much more is here waiting for us to explore alongside them.  

[sergeanttpoliteness]

➹teenage vows➹(peter b. parker x fem!reader)

Requested by anon➝   hi!! is it alright to request some peter b parker x fem!reader confession/proposal scene? tysm ❤❤

It’s time Peter caught up to some promises he made long ago. Like, embarrassingly long ago.

word count: 6k

a/n: hello! hope whoever’s reading this is having a good day bc u deserve it. just a heads up, but i think i’m gonna post a lot slower bc school starts tomorrow (pls kill me) and i gotta work hard if i want to get in a good college, y’know. gross. but anyway, i hope whoever requested it likes it! i had so much fun writing it and it’s rlly sweet and short, my heart is warm. i promise i’ll be uploading part 2 of one make out session next, idk when but i’m working on it (: enjoy!

It was moments like these— the ones where you flashed him teary smile, and reassured him that you didn't mind him leaving you for the night to go and save the city desperate for his protection— that Peter desired to pause the outside world just so it could be you and you only; no agonizing battles, no villains tearing him to pieces, no delinquents threatening the safety of others when they could barely even withstand a punch. Because just as much as everyone else, you needed him; and as guilty as it made him feel, he pondered the possibility of putting away the mantle of the Spiderling for a single night as he perched on the window sill hesitating, wearing his suit, his mask not fully on yet. But you both knew no such thing was an option whilst the news played loudly in the background, the piercing wails of the police sirens multiplying with each passing moment. You simply grasped the fabric and covered his face, smirking as you slowly walked away from the aperture. "Go save some civilians, Spider-Boy." You couldn't see it, but he grinned behind his disguise, for that nickname which would've bothered him if it'd come from someone else's mouth had set his heart ablaze ever since you two were just some kids; and the flare persisted, even as fervent bodies molded into jaded souls, beaten down by the colossal waves of changes and cataclysms that collided into you one after another.

That day you'd been victim of too many tides.

The evening that unfolded wasn't the one Peter planned. Not at all. Life was anything but a fairy tale; his surely wasn't close to being one, but he'd conjure that magic— transform reality into a children's book with your arms around his neck, his around your waist, your lips close, a soft amorous graze, your living room as the ballroom as you two gently swayed until the clock struck midnight. He'd plotted all the details, from the scent of the candles to every compliment he'd utter. Perhaps he worried too much, but it's what your love demanded, what you deserved, a happily ever after, and he'd oblige the heavens to bring you just that. More calamities were what the cosmos had in mind for you and Peter, though, a sour reality-shattering reminder of how nonsensical wasting time in dreaming of that fairy story was.

The first blow hit you (quite literally) just minutes after you woke up, and Peter accidentally knocked a cupboard into your nose. 'How was your morning?' Your coworker asked, the steaming vapor of her coffee clouding her glasses. You went cross-eyed as you glanced down at the gauze on your nose, briefly recalling the previous events— gushing blood, too much for your liking, maybe a broken nose, who knows, and a string of Peter's apologies flying at you at the speed of light as he placed the bandage over your wound. You wore a tight-lipped smile and shrugged while you were unabashedly dishonest— 'oh, you know, same old'. Yeah, because your boyfriend unintentionally breaking your nose (it's not broken, you insisted) was a normal thing, right? Then came the second slap to your face as a revelation; remembrance dawned upon you, your speeding brain screeching to a halt, and you sighed into your hands. It was you and Peter's two year anniversary.

The man spent the entirety of his work blasting himself; it hadn't slipped his memory, unlike you (which was a surprise, seeing how your enthusiasm the day prior could easily be compared to a child's in a candy store), but after his imbecility and shame, how could he not forget to kiss your forehead and bring you breakfast to your bed as a sweet morning surprise the same way you did last year? It didn't stop there— oh, no, it did not— for then came the third inconvenience of the day: goddamn Jameson went on another rant about him— or well, Spider-Man; not a phenomenon, really, you get used to it, but it was at the worst time possible. He timed it: fifteen whole minutes of his booming voice and curses, 'more pictures of the menace!' or whatever, as if Peter didn't already feel ludicrous enough while taking pictures of himself, or the twenty pictures scattered across his boss' desk were a meager effort. An unwanted setback, although he arrived back home nevertheless, scurrying to your bedroom and clumsily removing his clothes along the way. Suit? Check. Clean-shaven face? Check. That one fragrance which turned you on? Check that, too. Roses?

"Ah, shit." He muttered as he took the cooking pot from the cabinet. Roses. Stupid Jameson and his obsession with Spidey— he forgot to stop by the flower shop. It was alright, though, he could deal with it; no flowers? No problem. Just... the food needed to be good, restaurant-type of cuisine, and taking in mind he wasn't a terrific cook, it'd be quite the challenge. Peter lit the lighter, his hand on the stove's knob, prepared to ignite the burner, but he swore it'd suddenly come to life and taunted him, laughed at his upcoming defeat. He narrowed his eyes at the object, somewhat intimidated, when the front door slammed open. He peered up at the clock hanging on the wall. You were back ahead of time, a lot earlier than he'd anticipated; he didn't even have all the ingredients out yet. He alleviated the clutching in his chest with a deep breath before rushing over to the small portable stereo (you two really needed an upgrade), his finger pressing down on a button. He was satisfied with the soft tunes from the random jazz station and scratched the back of his neck as he went to greet you.

"Hey! You're... early." Saying that your appearance was rough would've been uncalled for, but your scowl and glossy eyes kindled that concern in the pit of his stomach. It was another punch, one that caught him off guard as he frowned and immediately wrapped his arms around you. "Hey, what's wrong?" His worry evoked a pang of guilt in you, and you thought about pulling away, but you couldn't, instead digging your nose deeper into the crook of his neck.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, I just..." You reassured, your tense shoulders relaxing since God, you could breathe in that cologne of his, and he smelled so good. "You look hot."

You sensed his breath catch in his throat before he chuckled, rubbing the small of your back. "I'm glad you think that, but let's talk about you, alright?" You lifted your head to meet his gaze, smiling weakly when he placed a careful kiss on your temple. You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head.

"I got a speeding ticket. Two hundred."

Fifth strike.

He blinked, processing your confession, his eyes slowly growing big. "Two hundred?!" You were expecting it; it was a normal reaction, yet you squirmed, flailing your hands as you attempted to explain yourself.

"I'm sorry—"

"Why? How?"

"I'm sorry," You repeated, your hands on top of your head. "I'm so stupid. I can't believe I'm so dumb, and we were saving for the trip but I just fucking ruined it. You deserve a vacation, Pete, I'm so sorry I'm like this." You spoke fast, pulling at your hair with frustration as you walked back and forth in front of him.

"Y/N..." He sighed, upset, of course, but forgiving. "Don't be so hard on yourself. It was just a mistake and we'll get through it, okay?" Your pacing ceased, skepticism crossing your face. "Yeah! The vacation can wait just for a bit. It'll be even more rewarding, anyway." He said with a beam, cupping your cheeks. You didn't know where the rare optimism came from, but you laughed at your lover, the remorse fortifying because you truly did not deserve the tolerance. On the spur of the moment, your fingers threaded through his hair and you pulled him in, urgent lips against his own soft ones. He couldn't help the subtle moan he emitted, dazed by your sudden lust as you spilled all your fervor and hunger into him; all emotion drained from every one of your cells, your fist gripping his jacket, tugging him as close to you as possible, bodies flush together, wrinkling the formerly smooth fabric, yet it wasn't enough.

His hand sneaked inside your shirt, riding up your back; but he paused and groaned, breaking apart from your blissful mouth. "After dinner, but right now I need you to help me because I haven't even gotten started with the food yet." He panted, abstaining from flinging all his cares far away and caving into your luring warmth to please you. Your mouth curved into a smile and you rolled your eyes, pushing him toward the kitchen.

He immediately got back to work, filling the large pot with water, but you stopped at the entrance and glanced down at your outfit. "I should get changed, shouldn't I?"

Peter turned around, shamelessly eyeing your body with desire. "You look perfect." You snorted.

"Peter, you're wearing a suit and I'm still in my work clothes."

"Maybe I... overdid it a bit?" He admitted with a bashful twitch of his lips. He took off his suit jacket, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows while you stole his discarded coat. He didn't notice until you put it on, quirking a brow. "You playing dress up or what?"

"This is it. This is what I'm gonna wear." You declared, raising your arms to show off your glorious look."

Peter bit his lip, a grin breaking out across his face, staring at you as if you were a divine entity, the physical proof of the existence of the heavens above as you straightened the creases. "You look silly." Adorable, he corrected himself internally.

"Nuh-uh, sir, I look hot." You scoffed, although you didn't look silly nor hot, but rather like a little kid who went through an exploration in his father's closet. You'd made up your mind, though; sacrificing a good-looking outfit sounded thousands of times better than actually making the effort to appear decent. You finished your five-second fashion exhibition before a full-blown runway commenced when your stomach rumbled, and summoned your inner chef, standing beside Peter. "You deal with the pasta, I'm gonna pick the salad because there's no way to mess that up."

"I'm the fuck-up, so shouldn't it be the other way around?" He muttered, and as if on cue, he almost spilled the dry pasta noodles all over the counter after miscalculating his strength and tore the bag open. His eyes drifted to you, and just like he predicted, you sported a judgmental expression. "I've got it."

"I dunno, I feel like if I give you a knife you're gonna somehow accidentally stab me." You chuckled, gesturing to the knife in your grasp. His face twisted with remorse. "I'm not feeling so lucky today."

"How's, uh, how's your nose doing?" He questioned, fault gnawing on him. It was the third time the man asked you, the first one being before you left for work, and the remaining a phone call and message during your shift. You, indubitably, told him everything was splendid, as if you didn't almost cry from the pain right after you waved goodbye to him and closed your front door.

"It's okay," You shrugged, despite the sting in the bridge of your nose. "Yeah, you know, it doesn't really hurt. Okay, no, that's a lie— it hurts a bit, but it's not something I can't handle."

"I'm so, so sorry I broke your nose. That was a really dick move."

"It's not broken!" You corrected him, pointing your finger at him. "It's fine. Don't worry, it just looks broken."

"If it looks broken, then it's broken."

"Since when are you a doctor?"

The corner of his lips tugged upwards as he added the pasta to the boiling water. "Y/N, getting my nose broken is my second job."

"Okay, whatever. I've heard the word 'broken' enough times today." You giggled, but then nibbled on your cheek while you began to slice a tomato. "Hey, I need to tell you something."

He swallowed, his throat all of a sudden dry. He opened his mouth to speak, but the abrupt ringing of his phone drove his attention to the device. "Hold on," He took it out of his pocket, his brows knitting together as he checked the screen. Your chest tightened after you sneaked a glimpse of the caller ID. "MJ? Hi!" He greeted, his voice way too cheery and his gaze still on you.

Your chopping came to a halt and you settled the knife on the cutting board. Her voice was clear, audible, yet you couldn't properly distinguish any of her words. Peter hummed as you held onto the counter, your knuckles turning white when his features broke out into a wide grin. "That's great! See, I told you you'd get through it."

Get through it, you reiterated in your head, the sixth wave crashing into your hot-blooded body.

"Yeah... yeah. You too. Night." He finally hung up, and your hand found itself on your hip.

"MJ?" You inquired, your eyebrows raised. He resumed his cooking, his phone forgotten on the countertop and you shot daggers at it.

"Yeah, she just wanted to tell me something."

"Tell you something?"

A crease appeared between his eyebrows and he looked at you sideways, confused. "A problem she fixed."

"Huh. I see." You grumbled, your brows scrunched together. Peter turned to face you, folding his arms across his chest.

"What?"

You met his stare. "What?"

"You're annoyed. I can tell."

"I'm not annoyed." You countered, squinting.

"Yeah, you are, 'cause you're doing that thing with your eyebrows—" He waved his hand, motioning toward your face. You mirrored his stance, doing exactly what he pointed out. "They get really expressive when you're mad."

"Suddenly, there's something wrong with my eyebrows?" You knew you were reaching, but the irritation dominated your mouth. Peter stammered in disbelief, briskly shaking his head.

"What?! Y/N, I did not say that at all."

You leaned against the kitchen counter, your lips tight until you were talking again. "You know, I just think it's kinda weird."

Peter looked heavenward, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Oh, here we go." He took in a deep breath, peeved. "What?"

"How you and Mary Jane have been calling each other so much lately." You mumbled, hugging yourself.

"What about it?"

Now you were the incredulous one. "What about it? Peter, it's weird."

"Yeah, I heard you the first time, but explain why." He said, exasperated.

Your jaw tightened and you picked up the knife before restarting with the slashing of the food, your hold of the tool harsh. "I don't really need to explain myself."

"Well, I want you to!"

"Alright, you want to know why it's weird? You want me to tell you?" Your tone grew louder.

"Yes, please! Go on!" Peter nodded, voice equally as bitter. You scraped the sliced tomatoes off of the cutting board with the knife, careless about where they landed, and clutched a second vegetable.

"She's your ex." You hissed. He had to momentarily walk away, although not too far considering the restricted place. He rubbed his face, holding up two fingers with his other hand.

"That was two years ago. Almost three."

"Your ex-wife!"

"I know what she is, Y/N, but there's no need to be worried. There's a reason why it didn't work out."

"It's kinda hard not to worry when she's calling you all the time, apparently telling you about all the problems in her life and who knows what else. I bet you call her to complain about me, or something." You poked his chest with a pickle.

He pushed the cucumber away with his finger, laughing. "Oh my god, you're being so ridiculous right now."

"I'm allowed to be ridiculous right now!" You shouted, slamming the green edible on the piece of wood.

"We're just friends! I can't even believe I have to say this!"

You shot him a sneer. "How can you just be friends with your ex?"

"Well, that's what we were after we broke up the first time, no?" He claimed, his forehead creased. You grew quiet and weakly dug the blade into the cucumber.

"That's different, I was your best friend. I am your best friend." You whispered, but he wasn't taking it.

He tilted his head back, his eyes closed. "It's really not different."

"It is!" You persisted, "We were kids, and I was friends with Gwen, so obviously it's not like I even thought about trying something."

"You think MJ is trying something?"

You blinked furiously, lifting one shoulder. "You know we never got along that well!"

Peter took a step closer to you, holding himself up with his hand on the counter. "She wouldn't ever do that, Y/N, no matter how bad things are between you two." You rolled your eyes.

"How would you know?"

God, you truly were driving him crazy. He began to tap his foot, groaning. "How would I know? How would I know? We were together for sixteen years, I know a lot more than you do!"

"Sixteen years, no way there still wouldn't be some sort of feelings." You lowly told yourself, but he still listened. He squeezed his hands closed and his view landed on the bundle of bananas inside a basket. He ripped one, peeling it open and taking a large bite, his infuriation pushing him to stress-eat. You heard him exclaim, as if he'd managed to remember an idea long repressed.

"What about that one guy you're always talking with? Thomas, was it?" He began, his mouth full. You whispered 'oh my god' as he swallowed before continuing. "You two dated, didn't you?"

You placed your hand on your chest, unbelieving that he decided to complain about the most insignificant guy in your relationship. "Peter, he's my coworker."

"Well, it's kinda hard not to worry!" He mocked you, flailing his arm.

"Fucking hell."

"He's all attractive and shit, with his eight-pack, expensive car, and twenty dogs. Real boyfriend material, huh?" He clenched his teeth, his hands trembling with the overwhelming jealousy.

You peered up at him, your eyes soft. "I would never hurt you like that."

"Exactly!" He gently held your shoulders, hopeful that you finally understood you absurd your worries were. "Neither would I! Ever."

"You broke up with me once, why would you not do it again?!" You shoved his hands off of you. Despair clawed at your heart, poisoned your insides with its foul venom, constricting your lungs, wetting your eyes.

Your words and crestfallen features subsided his fury, like a powerful breeze extinguishing a flickering candle, a gleam of sunlight reaching out through heavy sullen clouds, clearing his sight. His face fell, his fingers twitching, aching to touch you. "Y/N..."

You cracked, lost control, lashed out all your anguish on the food you cut. "You left me for Gwen! After three years!" Your cutting sped up, loud and quick clanks echoing across the room. "You said you loved me! A-and I believed you!" You sobbed, yet no tears would spill; only built up rage as you snagged a second tomato and stabbed it harder, the blade dangerously close to your finger.

"You're gonna hurt yourself." Peter warned, watching as you ignored him and only went faster, harder, your hand beginning to cramp up.

"But then you didn't love me, you loved her, and everything you said became complete bullshit and just lies! All those stupid promises and your fucking vows," You couldn't see anymore, your vision too blurry, but you didn't slow down. "What was I supposed to do other than just be happy for you? Because I had to be a good friend, and I just wanted you to be happy—"

"Y/N—"

You felt the knife close to your finger. "And what if it happens again? Mary Jane is perfect, you two were perfect; maybe one day you'll regret you chose me at the end—" Peter's hand shot out and captured the knife. You closed your mouth and blinked your tears away, your eyes then growing wide, for the blade hung right above your finger.

He moved it to the side and away from your resting hand, his grasp shaky. "I told you you were gonna hurt yourself." He breathed out.

The radio remained barely audible before, almost as if its presence were missing, but as silence overtook the room— heavy, asphyxiating, weighing down on both of you, crushing you with no mercy— it made your skull pulse. You laid the cutting tool back down, your gaze fixed ahead of you.

"My boss laid me off today." You saw through your peripheral vision how his head jerked up. "That's why I got back home early. And why I got the speeding ticket." You revealed, ashamed. Peter gulped, trying to dive to the surface, float in the flooded wreckage you two were trapped in.

"I'm sorry."

"What do you mean? It's not your fault." You looked at him, but it was quick. "And it's not my fault, either. I guess the trip will have to wait longer than we expected." You sadly joked.

He didn't say anything. He simply approached you, slowly and quiet, and soon his arms were around you. You grew weak to his embrace and squeezed him, inhaling deeply, holding back the tears once again that day— you didn't even know, really, you'd lost count. 

The universe wouldn't hand you the quietude you had craved so easily, though, because without warning, Peter began to usher you far from the stove. "Wait, wha—" A bang cut you off and you yelped while Peter unconsciously pulled you closer to him. You heard clinking, a shattering sound as something rained over the floor. You both slowly glanced back, still hugging each other.

"What the hell?" You gasped when you saw the large crack running up the stove top, various small ones branching out from it, and glass littering almost all of your kitchen. Peter's body shook and you stared up at his nervous grin.

"I told you we had the change the stove."

You two began to laugh— not a normal response to your stove exploding, indeed; perhaps it was an odd way to cope with the pain, but Peter ran his fingers through his hair as he chuckled.

"I should've listened." You smiled at him, and your mind turned to mush when he returned the expression.

"Good evening, everyone— I'm sorry to interrupt, I know that tonight is 'only music' night." The music ended and a dopey voice spoke instead; a guy who'd most definitely hit a few too many blunts.

"What kind of station did you chose?" You asked your boyfriend, your face scrunched up. He shrugged, just as clueless as you were.

"I don't know, it was on when I switched on the radio." However, your ears perked up when the man carried on.

"Just in case you haven't watched the news yet, I wanted to tell you to please stay away from Times Square. There's some crazy stuff going on there, man, it's nuts, and the police are arriving on the scene. But..." Peter looked at you, his eyes sad with guilt. Realization hit you like a truck, your heart almost stopping.

It was the final straw.

"No... no, please, Pete." You started to breathe heavily, your lower lip trembling. He held your hands, kissing your knuckles apologetically.

"I'm so sorry." The tears flowed free, and it broke him further.

"Everything's been going wrong today, p-please, I don't want anything bad happening to you." You begged. But he was already leaving the kitchen, and you yelled out a frustrated curse. You ran to the living room, searching for the remote control, then fell to your knees as you saw it under the coffee table, instantly snatching it. You desperately wiggled the remote when it didn't work, but moments later the TV lit up, and you jumped from channel to channel, seeking for the news. You raised your hand up to your mouth, your shoulders shuddering from the horrific footage— the hopelessness, the explosions, the fire. You heard the first siren outside.

You felt a tender hand on your shoulder, the indication of what you feared the most, of the dreaded goodbye lurking in all your nightmares. You were fully submerged into the screen, enough that you hadn't noticed Peter standing behind you. "This was not the night I planned." He said, staring down at the ground. " We were gonna have a nice dinner, maybe even dance like you enjoy to do sometimes, and then... I don't know, but I'm sorry. You deserved it." He confessed, sorrowful and sincere.

You placed your hand on his hard chest, over the spider emblem of his suit. You didn't waste any time and kissed him, a passion different from earlier; different from the arousal, the heat at the pit of your stomach, the goosebumps spreading all over your skin. Now it was just as forceful, just as needy, but it tasted like innocent affection, like a refuge for a terrified child from a spine-chilling thunderstorm, the assurance that the downpour would pass. You cherished every second, the way he clung onto your waist with as much urgency, his breathing as he ended what he hoped was just another kiss and not the last one. It tore you down to nothingness, but it's what you signed up for the moment you fell in love with him, and you truly did not regret it. Never.

Your foreheads rested against each other, your hands trailing up to his shoulders. "Happy two year anniversary." He grinned. You pecked him one last time.

"Happy two year anniversary."

It was the usual routine: he went to the window, putting his mask over his head, not bothering to brush away his hair, and he looked back at you. Stay, you both thought as you followed him. You held yourself back, though, for you knew that if you asked him to, he would. You tugged his mask down, covering his face. "Go save some civilians, Spider-Boy. I love you." His white eyes were wide, taking you in wholly.

"I love you, too."

You undid the button of Peter's suit jacket for the twentieth time in a row, the action a momentary consolation as your eyes lingered on the flat screen; however, your mind drifted away somewhere in the vastness of space, distant from the images and your solitary apartment, revolving around a certain man you couldn't help but worry about. The broadcast should've been enough to relieve your fidgeting and the iciness that ran through your veins, because just like always, the superhero had saved the day, but you wouldn't ease into satisfaction until you had Peter in your arms— safe and sound, alive. That comfort arrived in the form of the window sliding open, and you jumped off your seat, wrapping your arms around your torso, watching as the red and blue figure slipped inside. He closed the window, holding his side, and he removed his mask with a swift motion, strands of hair sticking up while others fell graciously. You repressed the shocked gasp at his appearance; his bleeding and swollen lip, the cut running up his forehead, his nose which now looked just like yours if not a bit worse, and the forming bruise on his cheek.

You ran up to him and hugged him tightly. As gentle as you tried to be, it still hurt, but he didn't voice his pain. "I'm proud of you. You did great." You kissed his shoulder. He mumbled a 'yay!' and you let out a weak laugh, carefully pulling his arm. "C'mon, let's get you cleaned up."

He tugged you back into him, his eyes droopy with exhaustion. "No."

Your eyebrows rose, confusion overtaking your face. "What?"

"Our date is not over yet."

You sucked in a breath, ignoring his ridiculous statement— he'd definitely received a rough blow to his head. "Peter, it's late, you need some rest—"

"Just, please." He urged. "Trust me." He bore his eyes burning with need into yours, frowning.

It was unbelievable, how Peter B. Parker could ask you to dress up as a hot dog and breakdance in the middle of the street and you'd comply, simply because it's what he wanted. You're weak, you told yourself, your hand in Peter's as you strolled down the pathway of the park; although you did force him to sit down and let you patch him up earlier, for only the man thought there was nothing wrong with leaving the house looking like you just came back from the fight club— ‘it's gonna heal soon’, he would whine as the roles reversed and you smoothed the gauze over his nose. He limped slightly while he picked a flower from a bush, another one for the growing collection in his fist, and you groaned loudly.

"Parker, seriously, I wouldn't have minded if we'd stayed back at home. Our anniversary doesn't need to be perfect." You said, expecting it'd knock some sense into him. He remained stubborn, though, inspecting the plants he held.

"Oh man, you said 'Parker', you must be serious." He wore a crooked smile and you narrowed your eyes at him. "Look, the day was far from perfect, so at least I want it to end well."

"I mean, this place is really nice." You acknowledged as you both stopped to admire a cherry blossom tree. Peter glanced sideways at you, his mouth twitching.

"Do you remember when we planned our wedding?"

You looked back at him and you both cringed, laughing after. "Ah, we did that, didn't we?" You crinkled your nose, recalling the night you and Peter lied on your twin bed; surrounded by heavy textbooks and colorful notes with illegible writing, in a haze from all the studying that you two started to make big, naive plans for a distant future, your head on his chest as he ran his fingers through your hair.  

"It was cute at the moment, but now that I think back, it was really stupid." He laughed. You swiped away the fallen flowers of the tree with your foot, nostalgia showering over you.

"Yeah... I wonder what sixteen-year-old me would think about thirty-eight-year-old me. Probably would be disappointed. At least she'd be happy I'm with you, though." You admitted softly, your skin prickling. "That's something her and I have in common."

Peter flashed you a half-smile. "Really?"

"Yeah," You grinned back, your eyes darting down to the petals he plucked. "Hey, don't kill it! What did it ever do to you?"

"It looked at me the wrong way." He smiled, shrugging. "I'm just nervous, that's it."

"What, you playing 'does she love me, does she love me not'?" You fluttered your eyelashes, the back of your hand on your forehead. He bit his lip, snickering, but then went poker-faced.

"It's a really serious game, Y/N." Your body lit up with laughter and he moved to face you, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he stared at you. "I want you to know that everything I said back then wasn't a lie. I meant every 'I love you' and promise I made."

You shoved your hands inside the pockets of his suit jacket (you probably should have changed, you realized), shifting your weight from one foot to another. "Pete, I know." You took out one hand to squeeze his bicep. "Forget everything I said earlier, alright? The jealousy just got to me and I said some dumb shit."

He shook his head, his fingers curling around your wrist. "No, but... I really did. And I've been thinking lately th-that maybe things with MJ didn't just work out because I was scared to have kids. I love you, Y/N. It's always been that way."

"Peter..." You rubbed his knuckles with your thumb, your heart glowing. "I love you, too."

"I'm sorry I didn't do this sooner."

You lifted a brow, puzzled. "Do what?" Your confusion dissolved when he dug his hand into his pocket, the color draining out of your face as he revealed a blue velvet box. You took a step back in disbelief, your hand cupping your cheek. "Parker, I swear to God."

"I'm sorry you had to wait so long for this moment." His voice wavered with nerves, the confirmation that this wasn't a sick prank he was pulling— not that he ever would hurt you in such way, anyway, but it was impossible not to feel lightheaded from the shock of witnessing a daydream you'd imagined for so long unfolding right in front of you, to not tremble as you waited for everything to slowly fade away as you woke up from another dream. His touch felt so real, though, so genuine, far from a fabricated illusion created just to satisfy a lurking desolation. "I wish I had known back then— God, I really do. But maybe I did kinda know, because after we discussed the whole dream wedding thing, I proposed to you." He recalled.

You sniffed, smiling. "You said it was practice for when we did get married."

He nodded, scratching the back of his neck. "It was not romantic at all." You both giggled, the ring he'd made out of a ripped piece of paper present in your memories.

You scanned your own outfit, wishing you'd looked much nicer for the occasion. "I look terrible right now."

"And so do I, but I don't care, because my heart still does that thing when it's the afternoon and you haven't showered yet."

"You're ridiculous."

"I know."

A deep rumble in the sky shook the ground beneath your feet and Peter looked up, letting out an exasperated sigh when droplets of rain pattered down on you. "Yeah, way to ruin the moment, weather. Thanks."

You lifted your hand to cover your face from the light drizzle, miniature beads of water on your eyelashes. "You know we can't afford a wedding right now, right?" You asked him, the corner of your lips tugged upwards.

His cheeks expanded as he let out air through his pressed lips. "I know. We gotta get that new stove."

"Our bed broke."

"Speeding ticket."

"I lost my job."

"You need a new nose." He tapped his own nose, which was a bad idea after he twisted his face in discomfort.

"It's not broken!" You insisted with a gesture of your hand, the corner of your eyes crinkled as you laughed. The rain poured down harder, quickly drenching yours and Peter's hair along with your clothes. Nothing was stopping him anymore, though, and he got down on one knee, audibly still aching from his bruises. Your laughter persisted, but now you hiccuped as well, your eyes red.

"We're not at a beach in Hawaii, but I tried to get the petals at least." When you inspected the ground— purple and red petals messily surrounding you, shriveled from the water— you comprehended the reason for his flower killing spree. You gripped his cold hand, the downpour emitting a shudder from you.

"It really doesn't matter."

"Good, good." He breathed out, more like a reassurance for himself, his own breathing speeding up for he could sense the tears coming as well. "Y/N. I loved you back then. I love you right now... and I'll love you for the rest of my years. It's not an exaggeration, it's the truth. I promise I'm not going anywhere. Not again. So..." He opened the box, and you stared in awe at the golden circlet with the pretty silver diamond.

"Will you marry me?"

You couldn't utter a single word, your throat closed up as you instead nodded fervently. You both beamed at each other, your smiles easily capable of moving worlds and galaxies as he slid the engagement ring onto your finger, his own hands trembling. You didn't give him a chance to stand up— you got down to his level and crashed your lips into his, your mouths slippery from the rain, your appearances far from alluring with his hair clinging to his skin and your mascara trailing down your cheeks. But it was alright. For the first time that day, everything was alright.

[rejects-mania]

From Pepper, With Love

Well, it’s been a minute hasn’t it? About four years? I think it’s safe to say that a lot has happened, not all of it good. So buckle in because as usual I’ve got a story to tell.

I’m 33 now. Hard to believe I’ve actually survived this long honestly. But here we are, alive, surviving, and most importantly living a very simple life now. No frills or crazy adventures, and that’s ok. Actually its exactly what I never knew I always wanted.

I haven’t seen the Rejects since that last show with Sayre. I haven’t picked up the records or listened to their music in years. I’ll get into why in a second. However, today, today was different. Today I listened to their music on my drive to work. Those haunting first cords of Another Heart Calls washed over me as I’d always remembered them and brought with them a chill of a past story that never got told. I’ve tried to write it before but couldn’t find the words, but today I feel like it needs to be told.

I hadn’t talked to Merch Mike in a couple years. Not since his last shows with the guys. I was married, miserable, and truth be told somewhere a long the way following the Rejects had become less about the Rejects and more about their merch guy. Truth? I’d fallen in love with Merch Mike. Take it how you will, but it happened, it was one sided, I was young, and I’m not ashamed.

Anyway, I found out Merch Mike was going out on the Cher tour which was starting in Albany. I was elated. I hadn’t seen him in two years, I still had the same feelings and so I reached out and asked if we could go for a drink. He actually responded, a big surprise to me honestly. Turns out Albany was the start of the tour so he was going to be there for a few days and could actually use a hand taking inventory. I jumped at the chance and offered to pick him up at the airport.

I’ll never forget that day. I showed up at the airport and stood anxiously waited for him to get off the plane and walk to the greetingg area. My heart stopped when I saw him. Same old Merch Mike. That big smile, those shining green eyes, the same man I had remembered. I don’t think I’ve ever hugged a person so tight. I hadn’t realized how much I had missed him or how much I still cared about him. As we walked down to baggage claim we began to chat.

“So how’ve ya been?” I asked casually mostly expecting to hear stories about his kids.

“Getting divorced, actually.” He replied. My heart practically left my chest. I’ve never felt anything quite like that before in my life. It was as if suddenly this person who I never in a million years would ever have even a glimmer of hope to be with was standing there telling me there was hope. There was hope.

We spend days together, mostly on the back of a truck going through tons of Cher merchandise, and talking. So much talking. The talking didn’t end at the truck, it carried to his hotel room. God, I have never wanted to fuck a man so badly in all my life. You. Have. No. Idea. But nothing happened. We just laid on that hotel bed and we talked. We talked about our lives, about dreams, and memories. Finally, one night at dinner he looked at me, his green eyes the most serious I had ever seen them.

“Are you happy?” He asked. He was asking something literally no one else in my life had bothered to ask for fear of the answer. It took me a few minutes to answer, the question catching me off guard.

“Of course I’m not happy. I hate my life.” I replied. He looked at me, that glorious twinkle coming back in his eyes as if it hadn’t ever left.

“Then why don’t you change it.” He stated before eating another piece of sushi. As if it was so simple. It wasn’t meant as an invitation but I’ll be damned if I didn’t take it as one.

I dropped Merch Mike at the airport that cool Friday morning at the crack of dawn. Actually it was well before that. I drove back to my apartment, crashed for an hour, then went to work at my new job at the DMV. At about seven that night I asked my husband one simple favor, please don’t drink tonite. He was instantly angry, instantly pissed off. He was angry I hadn’t brought Merch Mike to see him, angry I’d been gone for two and a half days with another man. Finally, he agreed and I fell asleep dreaming about a life I wasn’t allowed to have.

You see it’s the things we don’t tell people that cause the most problems. My husband, he was abusive and an alcoholic. Verbally abusive, I should clarify, but it was escalating, as these things often do. That night as I lay peacefully in bed, sound asleep from exhaustion suddenly all the lights flew on, the blankets were ripped off the bed, and yelling immediately started. My husband was standing there screaming at me for no apparent reason other then just to torture me. I was sobbing, my anxiety taking full control after having been scared awake and having literally every sense go from zero to sixty in a split second. Finally I was able to compose myself just enough to yell at him to leave the room. He stared for a minute then left to sleep it off on the couch.

I woke that next morning eerily calm. Calm as I have never been before (or after) in my life. I had this strangest sense of complete clarity. I walked out of the bedroom, woke my husband, told him to go in the bedroom to finish sleeping, and he did. I made myself breakfast and a cup of tea. I sat on the couch in silence, simply listening to the birds outside while I ate. Then I sat and just sipped my tea. I was serene. My husband walked out of the bedroom and took one look at me.

“Do you want a divorce?” He asked meekly.

“Actually, yes, yes I do.” I replied. He tried everything to get me to agree to stay. I wouldn’t budge. And then I sent one text.

Hey, Mike, I’m getting divorced.

The next six months were somewhat of a tearfilled blur, but a few things stood out. The first, my weekly conversations with Merch Mike. We would be on the phone for hours, talking about nothing really. He had been kind enough to have given me the contact info for my local arena and I actually got a job as a merch girl. We talked a lot about the business, a whole lot. I can not fully express how much those conversations meant to me.

I had moved myself into the spare bedroom of my soon to be ex husband’s and my apartment. I had exactly two feet around the bed of walking space and since he refused to allow me the larger bedroom and made sure every second he was home to be in the shared space I was confined to my room. I only left that room to use the bathroom and quickly cook food in the very short window between when I got home and whne he did. I lived like that for six months, unable financially to leave any sooner. I spent the first few pouring over divorce papers, unable to afford an attorney. My family still doesn’t know how bad it got, this is the first I’m actually putting it all to paper. There was one time my ex actually faked an emotional break down, had to be rushed to the er via ambulance, and from the hospital bed actually told me he had faked it. Yea, abusive. The only thing I had during that time was my friend Rae in DC and my weekly phone call with Merch Mike. They saved my life. Its that simple. They saved my life. That birthday I spent completely alone, my ex having used all our phone minutes so I couldn’t even talk to my family.

After months of looking for an apartment that was safe and cheap (a feat believe me) I signed the papers for one in a neighboring town. I was thrilled, but I had no one to help me move. My parents decided to come up and help me. It had been easier to sort of agree to be friends with my ex in order to get divorced and stay living there, so the day I got my apartment keys my ex offered to help me move some things. Nothing could possibly go wrong right? It’s laughable now really. He was sober when he got in the car, but by the time we got to my apartment he was drunk. I emptied out my car locked my new place and he and I got back in. I was furious, but he was getting violent as we neared the old apartment. It was the first real time I was scared for my life. He went inside. I stayed in my car. I couldn’t get ahold of Rae. I texted Merch Mike. In less then ten minutes he was on the phone with me. He stayed on the other end of the line until I was calm and over and over he asked me to please call the cops. He asked if I had the keys to the new place and could stay there. He was so concerned. I don’t know that I ever thanked him for that. I suppose this will have to do. Finally, I got my courage back and told Mike I was ok. The next day he checked on me to make sure I was ok. I was.

In my new apartment I thrived. I was saving to buy a house. I was working two jobs. I had left the DMV and moved to the OMIG. Merch life was incredible. I was travelling and making amazing new friends. I was still talking to Merch Mike every week, even after he landed the Rolling Stones gig. It was shortly there after I asked a simple question.

“Do you want me to come and see you in Buffalo? I got offered to work the show and can come out early and hang out or whatever. But only if you want me to.” I stated smiling the whole time. We hadn’t seen each other since before we both got divorced.

“I’m gonna be so busy during the day and you’d have to find something to do.” He replied.

“That wasn’t the question. Do you want me to be there?” I asked again.

“Yes.” He finally answered. I was thrilled. In my defense I was also still very much not ok. I started calling it my workcation and my excitement bordered on seriously ridiculous. But can you blame me? We were both single. We were staying in the same hotel room. I had lost a bunch of weight. I was stoked as fuck.

The trip was a bust. Right before I left for Buffalo Mikey (yes guitarist of the Rejects) had messaged Merch Mike asking if he and I were dating. We were not. I’m not sure of all the details, but whatever else happened in that conversation ruined everything. The trip was awkward and weird. Something didn’t seem right which only made me introvert worse then normal. But the worst would happen when I got back. Merch Mike and I had casually talked about me going on the road with him because he had been offered Alice in Chains again. A formal offer had not been given to me, but it was talked about. But after Buffalo, after he got spooked, I didn’t hear from him for months. Not a text. Not a FB message. Not a call. I went from talking to that wonderful man once a week for hours to complete radio silence. And it was all beacuse the Rejects who up and down claimed to give zero fucks about me got involved in my life. Its taken me years to forgive them and until this morning I hadn’t listened, watched, or even talked of them.

Months went by, I got worse in my mental illness. I started sexting with a guy from work who was very much not single. In fact his other half worked in our office. I was a wreck. I was having multiple anxiety attacks a day. I felt like this huge part of me was just gone. No Rejects, no Merch Mike, just this new weird world that I had to shape for myself, all over from nothing. But with that came a new hope. Its interesting to me that hope can do so much. I remember sitting on my couch watching that movie View From The Top. I sat after it was over just staring at the sun coming through my window. Peaceful and somehow content when I felt my phone go off. I looked down, just expecting it to be another gig offer as I’d been getting them frequently. It was Merch Mike. After months of complete silence he was calling me. He was calling me. I picked up the phone. He started talking and I cried. He apoligized I don’t know how many times. And then he asked me to come work a string of shows with him, Ringo Starr. He was even going to stop a night in Albany just to see me.

It was a nice visit. We talked and we planned the next trip where he was actually going to pay me to help him out. I was a real merch girl in that moment. I got to show him my shitty apartment and he was kind about it. I smile while I write this because god that apartment was awful and small and he was so nice about it. Then I went on the road with him for a few days working for Ringo Starr. We were in Philly when I finally asked him why he ghosted me. His answer was simple. He cared too much to hurt me and didn’t know how to handle it. Turns out not a week before Buffalo he’d hooked up with some other girl out on the road and he didn’t want me to be just some road whore. I’m certainly paraphrasing, but that’s what I got out of the conversation. We were just friends, and that was perfectly ok. Oddly the thing I had missed most was just us goofing off and talking. I realized I still loved him but that love had shifted. It was an amazing trip. I haven’t seen him in person since, but we still check in with each other. If I message him, he responds, keeping his promise to never ignore me again.

I went back to therapy after that. It was long since time. I’d remembered all sorts of awful things about life with my ex, things I pushed down and forgotten, buried amoung the concerts and the numbing vibes of those blissful shows. Including but not limited to being raped by my ex in a hotel room before we got married. Worst part is I didn’t even know thats what it was called. But you bet your ass it was. Real shitty what mind games our own mind plays on us to keep us alive. But I’m still going to therapy. The help is needed.

Then my grandmother passed away. Going through her jewelry I found a ring which had an inscription, ‘I love you Andy’. Not two weeks later I was supposed to be working a merch gig at a theater in poughkeepsie but was able to grab the second Albany theater. I met Andrew that night at the opening of Captain America: Civil War. I knew as soon as he touched my hand that was it. We forgot to exchange numbers. I hunted for him. I wrote to Craigs List missed connections. That crap got read on air on the radio (not kidding). All that and Andrew (Cap) came back the next day. We’ve been together since. He calls me Peggy I call him Cap. Avengers End Game just gave us our wedding song.

I say all this today because I go to therapy today. Its the first session after my cousin committed suicide. Of all the times I didn’t, of all the times it easily could have been me. His death hit me in ways I was not prepared for. I wish beyond anything he had had what I did. A Merch Mike to get him through the darkest days so he could find his Andrew. I share this story now because this morning I put on the Rejects music and I just listened and I smiled while I drove. Smiled at all the times their music saved my life. The roads we take, they lead us in crazy ways. At 17 I found a band. At 25 I followed them and met an amazing older man who asked the simpliest of questions that made me change my entire life view. At 30 I met my soul mate. At 33 I am going through a lot of shit, but I’m alive. I’m fucking alive and I’m unbelievably grateful for all the wonderful things I’ve been given.

Not many people can say they lived their dreams and get to make new ones. I can. So let this be my love letter, to whom I’m not quite sure. A fitting one full of hope and potential. One with ups and downs and wild rides and almosts but not quites. Let this be both a thank you and an apology. Listening to that one song this morning I remembered a little piece of myself I though I didn’t need. I hope there’s a fifth record now. Now I’m ready for one. Now I want one. Now I’m ready to see the boys again, this time from the back of the venue, probably the bar, in comfortable shoes and with my Cap. So please come to Albany gentlemen. Let’s have one more party. I need your music again. Really I always have. But now more then ever I need just one more show. You have no idea what your music did for me. It kept me alive for a long time. Y’all plan a show I’ll bring the cupcakes. We’ll have a blast.

From Pepper, with love always.

[itsblissfuloblivion]

Kindle - Chapter 4

A/N: It’s here!  Happy Monday!  We hope you enjoy :)  Let us know what you think <3

Also available on FF and Ao3!

Harry grinds his teeth and dials Ron’s phone number. The day has been a real pain even without Teddy to watch over and he blames it all on his fun little dream session from the night before. Still, it’s been awhile since he allowed himself to say bugger, grab his keys and wallet, throw on some random t-shirt and jeans, and just go out with the boys. Well, technically, it is the boy. The other part of their young adults complaining about life gang was stuck in her office - by choice, if he might add. Hermione never missed an opportunity for some extra studying, so working as a lawyer meant exactly that. Sometimes, he thinks Ron is the only one with a smart and successful career path.

He sighs and waits for the line to connect. On the other side, his mate’s sleepy voice forms a barely distinguishable “Hullo?” and Harry wonders how can someone be sound asleep at nine in the evening. Precisely because, yes, unlike himself, this someone is the only one with a smart and successful career path. Working when he wants and how he wants, Harry thinks with a trickle of envy fuelled by roughly ten liters of coffee and a couple of sleepless nights hunched over his desk.

“Wake up, we’re going out. Rosmerta’s pub down on Abbey Road,” Harry utters strict instructions.

“Hello to you too, you nutcase. Who phones a bloke in the middle of the night on a Saturday and commands him out his bed with no shame?” Ron complains, but nevertheless rolls out of his sheets to put some clothes on and swiftly brush his teeth.

“First of all, it is nine, which means there are three more hours until the middle of the night,” his old sass comes out as he impatiently explains.

“And second of all?”

“There is no second of all,” Harry drawls as if Ron just asked why two plus two do not equal three, but four.

“You can’t say ‘first of all’ if you don’t plan on following with a ‘second of all’, mate,” the ginger haired man points out matter-of-factly.

“Ron, I reckon spending all that time with Hermione has permanently damaged you,” Harry shakes his head and checks the time on his old battered watch. “Just meet me there in forty, alright?” He addresses the question in a rather harassed tone and slams the phone’s lid shut. Grabbing a pair of sneakers and mentally thanking his parents for agreeing to look after Teddy for the night even in the midst of another crazed packing session, he makes his way towards the hall and closes the apartment door behind him.

“So the reason you summoned me at an ungodly hour is?” Ron raises a ginger eyebrow as his best mate makes his way back clad with two pints filled to the brim.

“Ungo-Nevermind that,” Harry clicks his tongue and takes a seat opposite Ron. “I needed a break,” he shrugs and takes a long sip to get through the annoying foam left on top by the bartender. Not his day, it seems.

“Right,” Ron nods and mirrors his friend, lifting the pint to his lips. “But why?”

Harry ruffles his hair in frustration, searching for a way to phrase his answer. “Teddy - I reckon I’m all he’s got left and I can’t abandon him, I can’t!”

Apparently the expression on his face alarms Ron, because he bends over the lager stained table and pats Harry on the shoulder twice, whispering something close to “breathe” and “let it all out.” Harry has a hunch that this might be another of Hermione’s tips and tricks, but chooses to shut up, for the moment at least.

“I’m fine,” he huffs.

“Of course you are,” Ron replies, seeming unable to decide if he should repeat the shoulder patting or not.

“Listen to me, I only need a break! Or, at least, a break once in awhile, particularly when I’m working under a deadline from hell and so far my best option is not sleeping for at least a week,” he adds, conscious that he’s sounding a wee bit dramatic, but it’s not really the time to care. He did call his friend out of bed to complain, so complain he will.

“What about James and Lily?” Ron asks, wiping his mouth with the back of his palm. Briefly, Harry is reminded of another person with a freckle just above her upper lip, but nearly faints when he realises that he’s projecting those thoughts on Ron, the person he’s having the conversation with, and not his sister, who is probably out with some tall dark and handsome good-for-nothing at a fancy place or whatnot. He has a feeling this small detail, unconsciously burned into his brain, might have been the coal which fired his imagination into overdrive last night.

“They’re moving, along with Sirius,” Harry says with a sigh, “Yeah, the whole gang is packing as we speak and will soon move overseas, to New York no less.” He knows the lack of enthusiasm for his parents’ progress careerwise does him no honour, but it’s not really the time to start feeling self conscious. Sirius always did say that there are mornings specially designed for that, so where was the rush?

“Oh. Good for them,” Ron pipes up and lifts his pint in cheers. “Right. How about Ginny?”

Harry feels beer flooding his nostrils as he starts coughing wildly. Ginny? Ginny Weasley aka the girl he’d been thinking about mostly every second of his existence after that glorious day at the bakery? The girl that has haunted every one of his dreams, adult content included? Well, that seems like a mighty fine idea! Why not invite her to his home on a regular basis and just smack his head against the wall every time he wants to gawk at her? Yes, why not?

“Look, you don’t have to make a decision right now, but I’ll give you her number just in case,” the young man flips open his phone and punches the keys to find his baby sister’s number and sends it via text to Harry - who feels the urge to caress the bleeping screen that now shows the five letters forming her name. He blinks as he reads the name and the digits next to it for the sixth time, feeling like he’d just been told one of the best guarded secrets of humankind.

Ron tosses a peanut into his mouth with the same expert accuracy he honed in their school days and glances at Harry, “I know I do the whole sibling bit with Ginny, but she really is good with kids. Fleur even picks her over Gabrielle - which is a big deal since Ginny doesn’t know how to bake an adequate souffle, which is apparently considered a legitimate concern in that household.”

“I don’t know, mate. I reckon it might do me good to have a helping hand with Teddy while I work,” he ponders, tracing the brim of the pint with one finger. “My department head did put my name up for that big grant, by the way,” Harry suddenly grins and lifts up his gaze to meet Ron’s, leaving out the fact that he’d also signed him up for a burnout the size of an elephant in a mission impossible three months race to the finish line. There was time to commiserate about that later.

“Bloody brilliant,” Ron chimes and clinks his glass to Harry’s. Although his eyes sparkle with genuine enthusiasm for his best mate, Harry can’t help but wonder whether there has been any moment of regret for Ron, for giving up on his academic career when family took first place. The thought makes Harry’s stomach shrink and he’s filled with a wave of compassion for the man standing opposite him.

“You’re an amazing friend, you know that, right?” Harry speaks his mind on impulse, but is surprised to find that he does not regret it. Expressing emotion and feelings is not his strongest point, that much he knows.

“Aw, you’re not so bad yourself,” Ron grins toothily as his ears color a faint shade of pink and then coughs to hide his obvious glee at being complimented. “Now about Ginny,” he swiftly changes the subject, “I reckon she’d say yes, if you gave her a call.”

“W-Why is that?” Harry stammers and his heart wildly beats to an ever-increasing pace.

“Just a guess,” Ron replies and Harry thinks he might have even winked, but can’t be certain it’s not his tired mind playing tricks. “You seemed to have a good time the other day,” he cocks an eyebrow, studying the dark-haired man who is currently looking intently at his fingernails.

“Yeah, she’s nice,” he mumbles pathetically.

“Mhm,” Ron sips his drink slowly, “Right.” Harry believes his mate left something unsaid, but doesn’t feel bold enough to ask what. Looking down at the screen of his phone once more, a brief vision of Ginny laughing and spinning Teddy around in his living room plays before his eyes and he feels mollified. He gets an idea.

“But what will her boyfriend think about her spending all her time in another bloke’s house?” He asks smugly and Ron nearly asphyxiates himself with beer.

“Blimey,” he sighs, “I’ll be gentle with you and just say that she’s recently become single, but, mate, I need to add this - and it’s only as a favour to you, because I care about you, okay? If you want to have an actual date this century, bring up your charm game.”

“Said the man who wouldn’t have noticed that Hermione was in love with him even if she danced naked in his face and shouted it herself,” Harry comments, visibly incensed.

“Hey, that’s a different story, alright?” Ron blushes and slightly pouts, while Harry chuckles and gets up to order another round. Counting the empty pints piling up on their table, he realises they’ve already downed five each and immediately knows this is not his best idea yet. The young man braces himself for misery and regrets in the morning, but being so far away from the imminent moment, he chooses not to spend another second lingering on such an irksome thought.

Hours later, he’s violently woken up by a massive headache and has to fight his way out of the tangled sheets strangling him and run to the loo to hurl his stomach out. Eyes turned to slits because of the searing pain, Harry fumbles for the medicine cabinet and retrieves one ibuprofen, his cure of choice for the scarce mornings when he experiences the effects of an intense hangover. Chugging a full glass of water in one go, Harry notices his phone bleeping and flips it open. To his stupor, a text message from one “Gin” pops on the screen and Harry is a hundred percent positive he’s about to receive permanent brain damage from the shock.

Gin: Did u know the first time the concept of carpe diem was written down was in the Epic of Gilgamesh?

Sweating, Harry punches the keys to get to the sent folder and see what drunk slurrings he’d written in his state of inebriety and overconfidence. Bloody hell, he swears hard under his breath as the text “there are no messages left” appears on the screen. Apparently, at one point during his fun night he considered deleting all his sent messages to be a brilliant idea. And, to spice things a little, he’d also saved her number as “Gin”. We’re not even dating and I already came up with pet names, how efficient of me, he thinks, mentally kicking himself.

“Darn it,” he curses again, hitting one of Teddy’s strewn toys to blow off the steam. “The first time in a long time I get a girl’s number and it’s from her brother, for babysitting. And even then I somehow manage to scare her away by getting pissed drunk and generally being allowed to carry a phone with me,” he continues his annoyed musings, plopping down on the couch with his arms crossed.

Still, the message has been there for a while, so he at least needs to figure out some damage control.

Harry: I confess I did not.

He pockets his phone with shaky hands and pulls it out every other second to look at it. Feeling stressed out, he ruffles his hair and makes his way for the shower to at least attempt to relax.

Squeezing more shower gel than usual and massaging it into his muscles, Harry closes his eyes and tries to forget the whole text message fiasco. However, it’s no use as his mind goes haywire, delving into scenarios of disaster built around multiple ideas of what he could have written. Prayers are being sent to the heavens so that it won’t turn out that he’d acted like a total creep and promises to never lay lips on alcohol are being made to whatever deity is watching over him. Minutes later, he gives up and exits the shower to towel himself thoroughly and find his glasses.

Just as he reaches for his phone to call his parents and see what they’re up to and if they can come by and drop Teddy - there’s no way he’s leaving the house this hungover, the small device starts to buzz.

Gin: Ah, then that kinda kills my well prepared seize the moment joke :(

A smile creeps on Harry’s face and his deft fingers immediately start pressing keys. Oh thank God she’s not scared yet, he gushes inside his head.

Harry: Sorry? Can I ever make up for my disgusting lack of knowledge?

Feeling smug at his own wickedness and creativity, Harry throws the phone over his shoulder on the couch cushions only to dive after it three seconds later, for fear that she might respond and he might not hear the sweet beeping sound announcing it. To his utter pleasure, three dots appear on the screen, signifying that she’s composing yet another reply. Harry starts breathing hard under the pressure.

Gin: For this and for asking me to give up my only free Sunday to watch little Teddy ;) You’ve got a lot of making up to do, mister.

He’s mortified and would gladly dig himself a hole and hide there for the rest of his life. At this point, drunk texting her that she’s beautiful and sexy would have been a million times better than requesting that she sacrifice her weekends for his sake.

“Oh God, tell me that at least I asked nicely,” he breathes and falls back on the couch, shoving off his glasses and covering his eyes with the back of his palm.

Gin: Jk, don’t panic. See you at five, right?

Contrary to her request, Harry does panic. Why are they meeting at five? What did he say? Time for damage control suddenly became a thing of the past. Great job, Potter, you sly seducer of women.

Harry: Sure thing, but why?

Smooth. Real smooth. He thinks that if he’s going to make a mess out of the situation, might as well go in head first.

Gin: Erm you invited me to come for a test drive, see if Teddy and I would get along. Or was it some kind of joke? Because I cleared my schedule for the evening and let me tell you that I do not appreciate having to be that flexible when my thesis deadline is basically knocking at my door.

She sends in a harassed looking emoji after the long text and Harry is filled with new found hope. He did not invite her out on a date, did not offend her with drunken flirting (hopefully) and, most importantly, was sane enough to formulate a proposal that Ginny would accept. He mentally hifives himself and works up the nerve to respond.

Harry: I have tripped, fallen down the stairs, rolled down to basement level and have since been experimenting momentary lapses of memory and reason. Does this qualify as an acceptable answer?

Gin: Lol no

Gin: I’ve just run into my brother being very much hungover. No need to explain anymore

Gin: Psheesh boys

Harry: Oops busted! But I will make up for it, pinky promise

Gin: Now you have three things to make up for, I’m counting ;)

Harry: ughhh do I get off one or two if I say I’m terrible at maths?

Gin: Nope. See you later

Gin: Btw I like going wild with cheese toppings on pizza

Harry blushes. Did he just have the most amazing written conversation with a girl ever? Yes, yes he did. And it came so naturally, he didn’t even have to think it through. Grinning madly, he skips back to his bedroom to put some house clothes on and whistles as he starts tidying up and inspecting the premises to hide anything embarrassing.