#like wow. 'the us was using child soldiers so it could claim to not be occupying foreign countries'

[citrusreadstoa]

Reading The Hidden Oracle: Chapter 19 (SPOILERS)

"They have gone missing?" What'd I tell you? They're in Peru.

"vegan cupcakes" Iris?

"a subterranean amphitheater . . . Tiers of stone seats ringed a sandy pit about the right size for a gladiator fight. Hanging from the ceiling were dozens of thick iron chains." Antaeus. So this is what happened to the arena. I guess the monsters took all the dangling skulls as souvenirs on their way out.

"We were back in the woods." WHAT DID I FUCKING TELL YOU. WHAT DID I FUCKING TELL YOU. THE LABYRINTH WILL DO THAT. IT WILL DROP YOU BACK IN THE WOODS BECAUSE IT DOESN'T FUCKING CARE WHAT ITS ROUTE WAS LAST WEEK; IT CHANGES EVERY DAY AND IT MAKES ITS PATHS SPECIFICALLY TO SPITE YOU.

"I fear one more team is still missing... your children, Kayla and Austin." NO not them! Peru has taken them! Darn good motivator, though. 2/3 Apollo kids down. Will is next.

"I have upped the stakes . . . Somehow he had targeted my children." The Beast doesn't control the Labyrinth, does he? We've taken care of the Minotaur, Minos, Daedalus, the Minotaur again, Pasiphaë... There's no one left who could possibly lay claim to the maze (other than Harley, apparently), right? I guess there are Theseus and that princess that Daedalus was tutoring, but the Beast sounds like neither of them. Wow, the Labyrinth really got around, though.

"Paolo had managed to get one of his legs sawed off." Paolo, buddy, at this point I think you can just ask to sit it out and Chiron would let you skip the race. Anyway, 3/4. Next time, it'll be the other leg and maybe his head.

"Billie Ng had come down with a case of Irish step dancing." How did that happen in a maze? What trap set that off? Oh. Oh, you know, it was probably one of the Apollo campers taking out the competition.

"'It's my fault,' [Harley] muttered. 'I got them lost. I... I'm sorry.'" Wow. He was rooting for someone to die, but as soon as a couple people get lost, he's suddenly softhearted? Jkjk it's nice to see that he does care. "I realized the little boy was terrified of what I might do." Oh, that makes more sense! Jkjkjkjjjj

"I believe automatons prefer a frequency of E at 329.6 hertz." Aw, he's helping him!

"lovely glowing apple turnovers for breakfast." Don't those apples turn you immortal? Are these gonna be magical apple turnovers? "[Meg] sat next to me on my blanket and began eating a golden apple" Never mind, I guess they're just regular apples that happen to be shiny gold. I guess we're going more Atalanta or Eris than Hesperides.

"If you're a demigod on the streets, you hear about the Beast." That makes it sound like there's a concerning amount of demigods still on the streets despite their parents supposedly claiming them. "He takes people like me . . . To train . . . to use like... servants, soldiers, I don't know." Third demigod camp except it's just a gladiator ring. Or an army. Oh wait, we already have one of those. *side eyes Camp Jupiter*

"He killed my dad." Oh dang. "Being a good demigod, training hard... that's the only way to keep the Beast away." Lol she makes it sound like a scary bedtime story parents tell their kids to make them behave. If you don't go to bed before ten, the Beast'll getcha! He'll bite your toes off! Sounds like Meg's stepdad has some history with the mythical world. I would say he's a clear-sighted mortal or was told about it by Meg's dad like Paul Blofis and Sally, but her stepdad taught her to fight, gladiator-style. Roman demigod, maybe? Or legacy. Or for all we know, he's just an avid historian like how Annabeth's dad knew how to fly a combat helicopter.

"a child of Hermes had recently betrayed the gods by working for Kronos. They might do so again." Hey! Discrimination! Demigodly profiling!

"Painted on the helicopter's side was a bright green logo with the letter D.E." Rachel loves her dramatic helicopter entrances, doesn't she?

Long chapter, this one.

[sharedheadspace]

tin hat hawkes

or, the longass conspiracy theory that suggests that the government in our variation of the fallout world was out to get us, specifically. our deepest apologies if the readmore doesnt work

pinging @peace-love-mapley-syrup, salty come read a very depressing and paranoid multigenerational autobiography

fact: the us was occupying mexico in some capacity (even though the wiki says they werent. i lived there, i know what im talking about)

theory: it was largely through use of a subset of the army that the larger american public was kept unaware of. officers who had too many conduct violations or whatever to remain part of the ‘face’ of the us, with the soldiers underneath being mostly if not entirely comprised of locals forced into service

fact: this included children. like me, age six. on the younger end of those taken from whatever tinyass farm town i came from. i remained a soldier until i was sixteen, when i got caught on the edge of a mine explosion and nearly lost my leg (side note, this is where nina comes from. her memory of our life stops maybe two weeks before that happened)

after a recovery period that was laughably short and, looking back, was more focused on just ensuring i wasnt going to die than on preserving or restoring any functionality, i got transferred to the stateside army. trained as a mechanic just so i could have *some* usefulness now that i couldnt walk without at least a cane

question: why? i was nameless cannon fodder- literally, i didnt have a name for those ten years, ‘nina’ was my birth name in an entirely different world- and its not like there were no qualified mechanics in america desperate enough for steady work that theyd sell themselves off to the military. why not just let me die on the field. why save my leg instead of amputating it, giving me enough mobility to move independently but not so much that i can do so easily

theory: they saw the opportunity for a study on the effects of a persons identity being wholly centered on trauma from early childhood, and how such a person would interact with “normal” people

fact: i met maurevar there, then still going by his given name, icarus callahan. another soldier, said he came straight out of the foster system. a dead mother and an uncaring father. we stuck together, fell for each other, eventually deserted together. and if theres one thing the army hates, its deserters

question: why didnt they try harder to find us? they seemed to put in only minimal effort, considering how tight a leash the army liked to keep in every other situation

fact: nine years later, when the older twins were five, maurevar went into town on a routine supply run. he got caught up in the middle of a protest and arrested. that was the last i saw of him until postwar, when he turned up as a proto super mutant. after being arrested, he said, he was reinstated to his old position in the army, where he stayed until long after the bombs fell. in the 2070s, at least he had been stationed in alaska, overseeing new recruits (said he always felt like that was a deliberate punishment, being responsible for conditioning the young and desperate into the life he had tried so hard to leave behind)

question: why not give him a jail sentence, like nearly all other deserters? why get his old job back?

theory: by that point, they knew who we were. where we hiding. that there were at least two kids. the experiment changed to monitoring the effects of childhood trauma as it relates to becoming a parent/living with highly impressionable small children, with a side branch into adult ptsd and being forced back into the same traumatizing situation that first created it

fact: nine more years later, i was at rock bottom, between all my trauma, losing maurevar, and our wife growing ever more abusive as time went on. advertisements for the cit claimed to be able to improve mental stability and in some cases remove overly-stressful memories entirely. i bottled up my fear of medical settings, cities, crowds, social institutions in general, told the family i was going into town for a quick doctor visit, and you know the rest

theory: as per the recent development of the idea that ex-military and similar combat-trained individuals with few to no social ties were targeted for the brain scan experiments.. well, i was a deserter with 24 years of service to my name. i lived in the middle of nowhere with a wife who wanted me dead and four children still young enough to swallow any story properly fed to them. not exactly what theyd originally planned, but easy enough to work with. they took my memories and stored it for future use

fact: shortly after graduating high school, jasper was arrested for stealing food from his job at a local supermarket. he was given a choice between military service to clear his record or accepting a fine and jail time. where was he initially stationed? alaska. who was his c.o.? icarus callahan

theory: the overall experiment expanded to include studying the effects of children undergoing the same trauma as their parents. and for shits and giggles, to see how the two of them would interact, considering jasper had no idea who maurevar was

fact: after jasper was discharged, he, his younger siblings, and his wife moved into sanctuary hills. one neighboring house was home to an older couple, mr and mrs callahan. nothing about their home indicated they had ever raised a child (and this is in game, too! they even resemble maurevar!)

theory: maurevar was taken from them as a small child, or they were coerced into surrendering him. they were planted in sanctuary hills and told to keep an eye on jasper and the others, with the suggestion that if they kept up regular reports they could be told what happened to their lost son

fact: jasper, nora, and shaun were placed in vault 111. shaun was later kidnapped by the institute to provide the ‘pure’ (ie, not tainted by over a century of nuclear apocalypse) genetic material needed to create human-like synths. he eventually grew up to be ‘father’, the head of the institute and at least one gen3 experiment (synth!shaun, created as a child who could age and grow and have a more ‘normal’ childhood than he received, hanging the entire plan on jasper finding the institute, desiring the family the apocalypse had denied him, and adopting the child as his own. which he did. he did all of that)

theory: preservation of genetic material for the purposes of eventually creating synthetic humans was the point of the vault all along. the vault staff not receiving the promised release signal after twenty years, leading to them all dying in varying ways as their stockpile of supplies dwindled, was intentional. they were never meant to survive

furthermore, my being turned into a gen3 synth was deliberately because of my relation to jasper and to ‘father’. i was allowed to escape after waking up, because my bad leg meant that i couldnt travel far, my aversion to society meant that i was unlikely to join a caravan, and so i would be exactly the sort of person jasper would seek out and try to help (this took place after he was released, they would have known his habits by then)

where things may have gone from there, we cant know. the railroad kind of blew everything up

[dyns33]

Magical science

.... I wrote this because I was upset and hurt, but I feel better now. 

I hope it’ll help someone who feels bad too, or just amused you all 

Wizard Y/N is sad after a fight and Loki is here to cheer them up ! 

        "Do you want me to kill him?"

Y/N looked at Loki without saying anything. They knew the God was very serious, even though he looked like a sad child at the moment.

Yet it was they who were not doing well, because of a simple argument that could have been avoided.

It wasn't often that Y/N got angry with others. Unlike their Master, and as Wong had taught them, they always favoured dialogue, trying to remain calm, polite, patient.

But it was not always possible. Y/N were only human after all.

It was rare, but so Y/N could be sad, hurt, angry with someone, and talking was no longer an option. Fighting either, unless it was an enemy, or there was a physical assault that demanded a response.

There had been the argument with Steve, who refused to trust Loki at first. His doubts were understandable, but some of his remarks had really not pleased the little wizard, who put him in his place, surprising everyone. Even today, the captain automatically gave the military salute when they saw each other.

Stark was a recurring topic of annoyance for several reasons, but even though he was stubborn, he preferred to leave when he felt he was wrong and was going to lose the argument, by being utterly ridiculous, which easily settled the matter. problem.

This time, Bucky and Sam were the source of Y/N's unease.

At first, quite innocently, they had bet that magic was worse than science. Which was wrong, but Y/N hadn't intended to enter into their debate at all.

Until the falcon began to say that magic was too dangerous and no one should use it. He took the example of Loki, Wanda, Thor, Strange, going on to prove that even though their opponent was strong, it was not good to use the same weapons.

So wizards were bad.

           "Well that's not very nice." Y/N had simply said, frowning.

           "Sorry." Bucky immediately whispered, still shy and kind. "That's not what we meant. Of course it's sometimes useful and impressive. We're just the Science team, we're looking for all the means to defend our camp."

           "No, I was serious. Magic is bad."

Wilson and Y/N had stared at each other for several minutes, while the winter soldier looked at them in horror, realizing very well what was to come.

Really, this argument could have been avoided.

Y/N could have simply not listened to the falcon, knowing full well that he was wrong, that his opinion didn't matter at all, that they would save him during a fight, proving that magic was better... But it was stronger than them, they had to defend the honour of the temple, their honour.

Now they were in their room, not feeling at all satisfied with their behaviour or the outcome of the fight.

Sam hadn't admitted he was wrong, continuing to claim that wizards were too dangerous and immature, risking killing them all one day with their spells.

           "A word from you, and he's dead." Loki repeated, sitting next to them on the bed.

           "No. It's stupid. And my Master wouldn't be happy."

           "It's true he didn't say anything. I know he was a doctor before, so science blahblahblah, but I would have thought he would be more pissed off."

           "Oh he is, but he doesn't want any trouble with the Avengers. They are allies after all, even though they're dumb and most of the time they can only run, or fly, kick, punch or use silly weapons. Wow, awesome and not at all dangerous."

           "I can make his death seem accidental, no one is going to bother us."

This time, Loki was less serious. He understood that his darling didn't want Wilson to die. They didn't even want to talk about it anymore. Yet they were still upset because of him.

At least they hadn't cried. If they had cried, the falcon would have already died.

           "I don't know why it pisses me off so much." Y/N sighed. "That's stupid. I mean, the basic premise isn't wrong. Yes, magic can be dangerous, if misused, by the wrong people. But that's not the case here, with us. Even when we make mistakes, it's not that bad and we fix them. I don't understand that he trusts us so little, and especially that he is so rude. No one asked him for his opinion !"

           "I can tear his tongue out. No, better, I mute him !"

           "Loki, I'm serious."

           "Me too. I don't like to see you like that. Usually after an argument you meditate, you listen to music, you read, and ta da, you're better ! It's been almost a day now, I don't know what to do."

           "Nothing, sorry. But I appreciate the sentiment."

           "... Not even a hug ? It works with me when you cuddle me when I'm feeling bad. And it happens a lot, for serious things, and less serious things. I'm the idiot in our relationship after all."

A smile, finally ! And even a small sneer. Loki was on the right track.

Purring, knowing that Y/N loved it when he behaved like a big cat, he came to snuggle up to them, kissing their face and neck tenderly, while hugging them.

When he had tried it a few hours earlier it hadn't worked, but the little wizard was still too angry back then. It was really a good sign.

He was about to slip one of his hands into their pants when a phone rang. It was Sam.

           "No." Loki growled.

           "Wait. Yes ? Yes. I know. No, I understand. Okay. That's nice. We can forget all about this, it's okay. Thank you. You don't have to say that... I can hear Bucky and Steve behind you, I know they're forcing you to say that."

           "Tell him I'm going to rip his tongue out."

           "No, it's nothing, it's just Loki." Y/N sighed.

           "It's not nothing, it's the God who is going to tear his tongue out."

           "He's not going to do anything to you. And he would use a dagger, so it's neither science nor magic. Haha, exactly. We don't have to agree, but we don't have to fight either. Like that time when Thor thought Peter was insulting Natasha, it was just a misunderstanding. Nat still hasn't figured out why it happened and poor Peter is still a little traumatized. Indeed. Very well. Goodbye. He apologized."

           "A lousy apology. I could have tied him up and brought him back to beg you on his knees to have your forgiveness."

Y/N patted him on the head, making him understand that the topic was closed and that they really didn't want to talk about it anymore. So Loki went silent, picking up where he left off, using his magic to make their clothes disappear, as he stroked the skin of his darling.

           "You are impossible."

           "I am very possible. And I just proved that magic is great."

           "Please don't go see Wilson to give him that example." Y/N sneered, leaning against him. "The poor falcon is wrong, but he doesn't deserve to go deaf."

           "And mute. Remember I swore to take his tongue for hurting my sweet little wizard."

           "Don't touch anyone's tongues."

           "Except yours, darling, noted." Loki said, kissing them.

He kept his word and Sam Wilson did not lose his voice. On the other hand, for over a week, he was terribly unlucky, losing his things, falling down the stairs, scalding himself in the shower...

And he wasn't able to prove that it was someone playing a prank on him, even though he immediately thought of Loki.

Upon learning of this, Bucky not wanting another argument on the team, Y/N confronted their mischievous lover.

           "It's not me !"

           "Please Loki, there's your signature on this childishness."

           "I swear darling."

           "He's right, it was me."

They looked in shock at Doctor Strange, who was reading peacefully in his chair, not stopping to watch them as he had just confessed to his crime. Right after that, Wong appeared from behind a door.

           "Me too." he declared with a serious voice. "I didn't like what he said."

Inquiring, Loki discovered that Wanda and Thor had also punished Sam for his mean words, ending his punishment with lightning and a downpour, a real storm, as he practiced flying.

           "All because he doesn't like magic, that's a bit excessive." said Y/N.

           "No little lizard, it's because he hurt you." Thor replied, eating his tenth muffin. Strange had invited the pranksters for tea, and beer, without really saying why.

           "And because it's fun." added the Scarlet witch.

           "I really need to know, who put sugar in his coffee ?" Loki asked.

           "... Me." replied shyly Bucky, who had been caught by Wong doing his prank and so was invited too. "I… I like magic. And I hate arguments."

Y/N had to order them to leave Wilson alone, and when they saved the falcon's butt during the next battle, they just looked at him with a big smile, before returning to fight, while Loki started to sing "Science sucks !"

[emperor-palpaminty]

Heart Song

Part 1: In which Tech meets his soulmate as a cadet. I like soulmate AUs. Yes, there will be lots of parts to this. Forgive me.

As far as the young clone knew, the clones had gone through specific DNA alterations to ensure they wouldn't hear the voice of their soul mates. They were soldiers, not lovers. They were told as soon as they began training that if they heard an unfamiliar voice to report it to their supervisor.

The child wasn't necessarily concerned with this- he was only a cadet. War and training were the only things he was concerned with.

He laid back in his bunk, eyes squeezed shut with pain. Trying to see from far away hurt his eyes, but he didn't want to say anything. He didn't want to get in trouble. People already made fun of him and his brothers. The biggest out of all of them already had selected a name- Wrecker- and it fit him. The other boys, the normal boys, had used his name against him. Wrecker didn't seem to care, though, and he stayed confident in his skills.

He breathed deeply, rubbing his bleary eyes, trying to calm himself down.

A voice broke through his head and jarred him. It was sweet, feminine, and melodious. Was it... singing?

The boy sat up abruptly, head smacking the top of his bunk. "Ow!"

The voice in his head went quiet. "Who's there?" She whispered.

"Uh." The boy coughed. "Hi."

She gasped. "Are you my soulmate?"

"That's not possible. I don't have one."

"Everyone has a soulmate, silly!" She giggled.

The boy's heart thumped. Her voice was the prettiest voice he had ever heard. "Wow," he breathed. "Your voice is..."

"Awesome?" She laughed again. "Thanks. I like yours too."

"Was that you singing?" He whispered, laying back down, slowly. He didn't want to wake anyone up.

"Yes. I have voice lessons tomorrow, so I was practicing. I like singing." There was a pause, and then she said, this time matching his whisper, "Can you still hear me?"

"I can!" The boy whispered back, hardly able to contain his joy. "I have a soulmate!"

Her giggles filled his head, and he hugged his pillow (just the one he had) tightly. "What's your name, soulmate?"

"I, uh..." he frowned. "I don't have one."

"But... everyone has a name."

The boy's face warmed in the dark. "I haven’t picked one yet. My brother has! His name is Wrecker."

"You get to pick your own name? Oh, I love that."He heard a muffled squeak, and his heart fluttered again. "What will you pick?"

"I don't know yet," he confessed. "When I know what I'm good at, I will."

She yawned, sweetly, and the boy could imagine a little girl in bed. Perhaps she was with other people, like he was, or alone. He had thought about having his own room, especially when Wrecker scored. "You need to sleep." He said quietly.

"May I talk to you tomorrow?"  She yawned again.

"Yes!" The boy agreed. He watched his brother, the one with blonde hair, shift in his sleep, and he lowered his voice. "I may not be able to talk back a lot tomorrow. I have training."

"What are you training for?" She mumbled.

"I'm going to be a soldier." He said, quite simply. "I believe tomorrow is flight simulation." He hugged his pillow gently, exhaling. He pressed his face in it. "Can you sing more?"

"Of course. Goodnight, Soulmate." The girl began to hum softly, singing lilting words. "Come guess me this riddle, what beats pipe and fiddle..."

The cadet was asleep, soundly, within the minuite. He wished he had some way to remember her voice and listen to it through the day.

___

His eyes hurt through the day again, but his little heart was soaring in joy as his fingers moved quickly on the keys. He had no issue seeing in front of him, just further away.

His number was called, pulling him out of his mind replaying the lullaby from last night. He rose, trying to not be shaky, walked to the Sargent, ignoring the other boys glaring at him. "Yes, sir?" He ignored his leg bouncing, trying to not reveal his nerves. Did the older clone know he had a soulmate? That he heard a voice?

"Come with me, CT-99-403." The Sargent in charge lead the boy away. The cadet glanced back at his brothers, their faces standing out with worry and different from the identical sea of clones.

The cadet followed, quietly. He avoided eye contact at the kaminoian female who was leaning over the holopad, eager. "Thank you, Sargent." Nalaa Se stood, turning to the boy.

"Yes, maam?" The cadet stood at attention, thinking back through everything he could possibly be in trouble for.

The Kaminoian waved, lowering her datapad. "At ease, CT-99-403." She traced the room slowly. "I wanted to speak to you and your batch. Individually."

The boy shifted, quiet.

"You and your brothers were made with individual purposes in mind. We believe that the four of you will fully grow into a special batch." Her insectoid eyes scanned him, and the cadet did his best to stay neutral in face. She continued speaking. "Your scores in the flight and mechanic simulation are one hundred and thirty five percent higher than average." She folded her fingers, long neck craning. "Your mathematical and quantitative skills are... maturing quickly." Nalaa Se picked up the holopad again. "Your mind is technologically advanced. We'll be specializing your training with additional combatative skills and technology or engineering, as with your brothers. You will all specialize in different fields."

The boy's heart fell. "Will I still get to see my brothers- my batch?" He said, soft. He was almost frightened to ask.

"Yes. You'll all train together in combat." The kaminoian waved a hand dismissively.

"Um... actually, I wanted to ask," the boy said quickly, and the insectoid eyes peered up again. He half-shuddered and spoke. "My eyes... it's hard to see."

She frowned at him, comprehending, not judging. "Stop at the medical bay. I'll have them create some lenses for you."

The cadet's heart had fallen before, but now it plummeted. He would be the only clone with glasses. He gave a half-hearted "Thank you. Maam." Before hurrying out, towards the medbay.

___

"Soulmate?"

Tech gasped, glancing up from his glasses, which he was examining in his hands. "You're here!" He whispered, delighted.

Her laugh brightened his day. "Have you picked a name yet?"

"No, but I think I have an idea." He tugged the regulated blanket over him, rolling over and hugging the pillow again. "I met with my maker today."

"Maker? You mean... your parents?"

"Er- yes." He coughed quietly. She wouldn't understand. "My... parents, they said I was advanced in technology and scared high in engineering fields."

"Oh! My soulmate is smart!"

The boy's heart soared. On a planet where he was reminded that he belonged to the means of war, it was nice to be called someone's 'something'. "I... yes," he cleared his throat. "I want it to be something like that."

"Smarty-pants," She teased. Her laughter followed.

He smiled, squeezing his pillow, happy. "Song bird."

"So what is your name gonna be?"

"I don't think I can say," he said, quietly. "Doesn't that... go against the rules?"

"Well, we can try!" She declared. The cadet sighed happily, snuggling his face im his pillow, heart tumbling between his ribs. "My name is-"

Static. Nothing.

"I didn't hear it."

"Oh. That does make it complicated, then." She mumbled, significantly more down cast.

The cadet yawned softly, tucking the blanket around his shoulders. "I'll find you some day, soul mate."

"I thought I was song bird, smarty-pants.'

He giggled, unlike himself, and nestled into what warmth he could find. "You are, song bird. And I'll find you.' He yawned again, then rubbed his face. "Can... can you sing again?"

"Sure! The same song, or something else?"

Oh, he wanted to memorize her song. Every word and every melody and every note of the lullaby, all the songs she could ever sing. "I liked the one last night. But what's your favorite one?"

There was silence, and then she spoke softly. "Are you in bed?'

"Yes."

"Does no one come tuck you in?"

The boy's face emblazoned with red, and he, remembering she could not see him, spoke. "No."

"Then I'll tuck you in some day." She said, gently. "And I'll sing you to sleep."

The boy's heart imploded, and he curled up in bed as she softly sung. "I saw the light, fade from the sky..."

As he closed his eyes, the boy whispered, "Tech. My name is Tech." He doubted she could hear him, but it felt good to say the name he claimed to be his and no one else's.

[batarangsoundsdumb]

guess fucking what? my inbox is so fucking full right now i'm unloading all of this shit in one post.

For the 11th gotham memes: gothamites react to bruce being jacked in a tiktok he made with kids, like super yoked, ripped as hell

fucking hilarious thanks. i think i did it in one meme post, but i genuinely don't remember which one

i dunno which of the batfam would do this but one time i was sleeping over at a friends house and ended up on the floor bc the bed was so very small and i just stayed there because the rug was soft

that's a drunk jason move i don't know what to tell you

tim and jason are "i listen to pop punk" solidarity. whenever jason highjacks the batmobile theyll go on long ass car rides blaring mcr and paramore and then never talk about it again

as they should!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! tim: no jason it's my turn using the aux cord i gotta put on my jams jason: don't you dare put on weird shit tim: don't worry, you're gonna love this *plays fearless (taylor's version)

hear me out hear me out, red hood stans 🤝 nightwing stans t h i g h s

holy shit yes.

SNL au: Bruce breaks character when pretending to superman and says something like "I'm not superman! You've seen his gps!! It's from 2001!!!" @sabeanybabe

superman flies past the snl building the next day just to say 'actually it's from 2005, i'm not a heathen'

does your back hurt from carrying the batfam fandom

it hurts more from the exotic rock collection i keep in my backpack, but thanks for the concern.

I love your posts by why would you always leave the best parts in the tags?

as a treat for the people that check the tags ;) (and also because i'm committed to the short post aesthetic)

somehow your playlist was everything i never knew i needed. i mean it. this is my new favorite playlist.

and don't you dare get a new favourite playlist!

babe ur stoner tim playlist is exactly too perfect, earth is literally blessed by ur existence

babe thanks so much! i love my stoner tim playlist because it's just my usual playlist but people think it's an artistic choice that i put taylor swift and britney spears in there, when it's just what i unironically like listening to

JANDKSKDK BILLY RAY CYRUS ON THE STONER TIM PLAYLIST I LOVE IT IT

again it's not even an ironic choice, i know every single word and i genuinely like the song

The last chapter of Fundamentals of Casework has me crying at work. Thanks I love it @dudelookitsalesbian

oh babe, i'm sorry, but also, not sorry i love chapter 4 so much it's my lovechild with the 'mental illness' tag

soooo....stumbled on your tumblr by some stroke of fate??? read your DC fanfic first. which is PHENOMENAL btw. then found all the batmemes; the funniest thing EVER bc everyone forgets about regular old gothamites. kept scrolling and your blog pops up as recommended. clicked on the ao3 for shits and giggles and waddaya know?!?!? it's YOU!!! you're LEGEND!!!! ever seen that meme? it's a video of a cat that got into a baseball field and the two announcers get really invested in his escape attempt and start giving a play by play of the cat instead of the game. memeable moment: "GREAT stuff from the Cat!!!"

i seriously think about this ask every single day and it's so fucking funny to me that i've never seen the meme you're referencing, but i still find myself going 'GREAT stuff from the Cat!!!' whenever i see something funny. but wow i'm glad you liked this steaming pile of garbage

Fav dc character overall? And fav batfamily character?

don't ask me to pick between the loves of my life, but i can tell you i've cried about every single batfamily member and also wally west (my beloved)

What's your opinion on fans having a problem with batfam being "too big"? And some even claim that batfam is just "Bruce Alfred Dick Damian" and the rest of them are just "friends and allies" (source: reddit) Personally, I like batfam because of this reason but idk

stupid. a family can never be too big. i'm not that big a fan of like huge batfam stuff with everybody from every single universe, because as much as it's funny for bruce to have like 30 kids, it just feels a little too OOC for me.

This is the best tag I've seen involving the batfam, thanks for thinking of it

This is canon now @nctxrejects

lmao yeah i think at that point alfred has had to sit through like at least a dozen coming out talks and just has a pride flag collection in the attic that he pulls out whenever a kid comes out

idk why batfam hits different as compared to any other superhero family

bc it's found family and usually the other superhero families are almost all genetically related in one way or another

I don't know if you watch the umbrella academy but I saw your last post about batcest and saw the similarities. But the thing is (although I think it's weird) in TUA, they addressed it by saying "they were raised as weapons, not siblings" or something along those lines, which is simply not the case with batfam.

yeah i watched tua but i also thought it was ridiculous and they still treated each other as siblings so i didn't like the luthor/allison thing, and am glad they stopped doing that shit bc it fucking sucked.

Hot take: Batcest shippers are the same people who believe adopted siblings are not actual siblings

smoking hot take: batcest shippers are the people who watch 'my sister got stuck in the washing machine' porn

Duke was adopted by Bruce?

not technically no, but do i, tumblr user batarangsoundsdumb, look like i care?

True story but I had to change my freaking name because it used to be "Damien" and most people would go "OH LIKE DAMIAN WAYNE" like please I'm just tryna live

true story, but i don't actually think of damian when i hear the name damian, literally the first thing that pops up is damian darkh like bruh what?

apparently dc comics company supported comic stores by giving out new titles and stuff during the beginning of the pandemic to help them run and I just think that's wholesome

ah yeah that's so fucking cool, still don't like dc, the company, because this world is a capitalist hellhole and we're all owned by warner brothers or disney with no in between.

ayo looking at tumblr head canons and finding out bruce is actually a terrible father is a punch in the gut

lmao yes, in like 50% of comics bruce is a terrible father and it gives me whiplash

oooh I just saw the jason todd vs winter soldier post and the real question is: batman vs iron man

while iron man has like hundreds of cases of armor, batman could throw out an emp and have the guy dropping out of the sky in 2 seconds.

dickfast = fastdick = quickdick = quickie

magnum hot take

hey bata(?) just thought I'd let you know I have copied the obnoxious emoji and Billy Ray post for use on simping men going forth

thank you 😘🌷 (@spacebarsidecar)

why would you do that to your followers???? i get why i did it, but why would you???

what is scarecrow made the nightwing funko pop himself, like those diy-ers that paint over other ones

oh god no, horrible take, horrible take, that's a disgusting thought oh no

I see your HC that Bruce and Oliver fucked and raise you this: Dick and Roy ALSO fucked

yes they did and it was a horrible moment for jason to find out dick has fucked both of his best friends

"at this rate bruce adds like 1 child to his family every decade or so" Duke is introduced in 2013, Damian as Damian, not as an unnamed child, in 2006. And he is already 14 years old, Robins rarely remain Robins after 16 😬 It looks like a new Robin and Batkid will appear in a couple of years

i mean i can't wait? but somebody will probably die first tho, we're due for another major character death. my money's on either cass or duke this time.

BRO you're so right all of your Bruce's ex headcanons are amazing but they aren't ships, that's kinda wild. Like I don't want any peeks into how their relationship was I just want to see everyone make fun of them

lmao YES it's just i love bruce being a slut, like good for him.

I am in love with your posts your honour thank you

omg thanks are we like,, gonna kiss now?

The justice league needs to have a meeting to discuss how many of their members/partners have slept with bruce. Because through a combination of cannon & fannon (if DC wasn’t homophobic) we have AT LEAST: 1) clark 2) lois 3) oliver 4) dinah 5) john

Thats not counting villains or random civilians @dudelookitsalesbian

yes yes yes, they'll have a yearly meeting about how many of their collective exes could be out for revenge and batman's list just keeps getting longer.

tim was like "i'm drake now" and everyone was like ahh so your fursona is a dragon and tim was like pffffft no. ducks.

and what about it?

when steph's fighting livewire and she zaps her with lighting and nothing happens and then they both just. stand there awkwardly for a second and talk. yeah i couldn't stop laughing at that batgirl steph is the BEST

oh yeah that was fucking hilarious and i think it would be so cool and sexy of dc to give steph a little comic series,,, as a treat

Hi I absolutely adore all of yours "Bruce and Oliver very badly pretending they didn't fuck each other" memes

lmao i do too

I need you to know that “Bruce Wayne had frosted tips” is one of my favorite Bruce takes of all time it’s so galaxy brained. you’re right and you should say it

he also painted his hair blonde once when he was travelling and in conclusion, this is why he's being blackmailed by the gotham gazette.

you know my thing about gordon being branded as the only good cop in gotham is its a load of shit like arguably he's a good person and not working to screw people over or anything but the fact that he also works w. batman makes him a shit cop. like yea batman is better than the mob but its still illegal its still an abuse of power he just not making bank

babe, all cops are bad cops. (but yeah youre absolutely right, working with vigilantes makes you a shit cop, but also working against vigilantes just makes you an asshole cop yanno?)

ruh roh i think i’m about to add “so not yeehaw” every time i don’t like something

that's a very good vocabulary upgrade

somehow i feel like steph already knew. like babs obviously knew but i feel like bruce got high/drunk in front of steph and started telling his boarding school stories and steph was just like “oh you fucked up i’m never gonna forget this”

steph and bruce have weird uncle/rebellious niece dynamic and they just hang out sometimes and bruce will be like 'i once broke my arm when i tripped over a hedge when i was drunk so oliver drove me to the hospital on an electric scooter' and steph will just have to sit there with that knowledge in her head.

Hello I just wanted to tell you you are So right in all your steph opinions bc she is, in fact amazing and I think that's very sexy of you. Ps. Your Bruce/Oliver fic is hilarious

babe, thank you so much and yes steph is amazing and i love her and she deserves the world and she's the best member of the batfam hands down. also thanks

In Supersons we see a couple of kids that are implied to be Damian and Jon's children and the boy has laser eyes and can fly, so I asume he's not adopted. The girl, who calls Bruce grandpa, can also fly, btw. So it's canon (probably by accident) that Jon can have kids and he must have married one of Bruce's kids. (I'm hoping for Damian, mostly because any other of his children would be waaaaaaaaaaaaay too old.) @artemisa97

lmao that was probably an accident seeing as jon is a 17 year old superhero in the year 3000 (by the jonas brothers)

You know, I'm a die hard fan of your memes, but I gotta say one thing: if Gothamites actually took gas mask everywhere with them, then the Scarecrow would just be a weird dude in a weird costume, and not a villain oh so scary. DC really should just takes notes from you.

bold of you to assume there's no gothamite anti-maskers

How does it feel being the funniest person on this app?

horrible, next question.

I can't listen to Green Day or Billy Joel without thinking of your post about how Bruce got arrested at a Billy Joel concert @nightwings-kid

yeah that's your mistake, i on the other hand can't enjoy billy joel without thinking about the glee rendition of 'uptown girl'

I've FINALLY been watching the Batman animated series and I gotta say, after watching "the gray ghost" I am CONVINCED that Batman is a closeted super hero geek who was 100% freaking out the first time he met Superman and is just REALLY good at hiding it.

superman: so what do you do in your free time? batman, thinking about the superman fanfiction he's writing on the batcomputer: i have no free time

bruce and oliver be like boyfriends to co-workers 401k (do the justice leagues get 401ks??? not that bruce and ollie would need them, but-)

lmao yes just 400 thousand words of bruce realising 'oh dip oliver is such a fucking dumbass' (also i don't know what a 401 k is but i assume they don't?)

Gothamites would totally boo superman as he saves Gotham while batman is out. @meenje

he's like 'okay think about that next time you want to be saved from an alien octopus'

I just took long break from dc comics and I come back to see ric grayson ??

i think it's very cool and sexy of dc to see dick and just think 'you know what? let's just give him a traumatic brain injury' and then didn't develop his character in any real way

SPEAKING OF RIC GRAYSON, gothamites making confused memes out of ric grayson is much needed

'dick grayson is my taxi driver? can anyone explain what the fuck happened he looks like an italian plumber?'

i hate to say it but batfam are def "marvel characters" in that sense they are characters who are human but become superheroes unlike most dc characters who are gods trying to be human maybe this is why I like batfam

fair enough

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Owen Grady’s child

Owen Grady x child!reader

warnings: knives, guns

a/n: i cannot remember the plot bare w me

prompt: being owen’s child

okay, let’s start with the fact that he’s a single dad

that did not stop him from raising you right

navy brat

after a little bit of instability during his years of service, he got a job as a raptor trainer

so you see, it wasn’t a typical childhood

you two moved to isla nublar so he could begin his work

“woah, that’s a dinosaur?”

“yeah, kiddo, she’s a velociraptor”

you were a bit older when you met the dinosaurs, so owen trusted you to be around them

“if you respect them, they’ll respect you”

blue took a liking to you pretty quick!!!

owen thought it was adorable the way you got along with the raptors

you were sort of like a co-trainer

living in that lil trailer

“this place is too small”

“quit your complaining and eat your mac and cheese”

your dad taught you how to fix cars and motorcycles

you did a bang-up job

“you really are my child. oh, my god, im so proud”

watching tv with owen all the damn time

it was usually cartoons though bc that was all he cared to watch

sometimes he forgets that you are not a raptor and you have to jog his memory

“can you get your hand out of my face before i tear it off?”

half of your holiday gifts are weapons

“look at this knife, y/n! it’s two inches longer than your old one. you’ll grow into it”

“dad, a knife is not a pair of pants...but thank you, i love it”

you’re pretty good at throwing knives, though. your dad put a target on a nearby tree for you to practice

every once in a while it’s gun practice, though

“okay, remember the proper foot stance...now arms. make sure not to lock up, make sure your fingers are clear from anything that could move...okay, go!”

there was a high level of trust between you and your dad

he ruffles your hair a lot, you used to care

you no longer care

you had free admission to the park, so sometimes you’d take the day off and wander around for a while

you always came home with a stuffed animal (or several)

“is that a stuffed pterodactyl?”

“his name is pterry”

“nice”

back to raptor training: you loved it!!!!!!!

training a dinosaur was nothing like training a dog, lemme tell you

these lovely dinos made you so happy!!!

they’re pretty at-ease when you’re nearby

arguing when anyone talks about using them for some sort of selfish profit

“they’re animals, dipshit! stop treating them like weapons!”

“mr. grady, are you going to tell your child to behave?”

“no, no i will not”

claire popping over to see your dad while you were working on his bike

because she suddenly needed your dad’s help

and wanted to exclude you until your dad said he wouldn’t do anything unless you had the opportunity to come along

“you know, y/n, i have a nephew who’s about the same age as you visiting here right now”

“how old am i, claire?”

she did not have a response

your dad was stifling chuckles

“nice one, kid” *high five*

tHe InDoMiNuS rEx

you: 👀

owen: 👀

yeah this was not gonna be good

tbh you almost died when you were surveying the cage

why? oh, i don’t know...because there was a BIG FUCKING DINOSAUR IN THAT BITCH

“y/n! under there!”

you ran ahead of owen and ducked under a truck where he soon followed (and dumped gasoline all over yall)

terrifying, truly

your dad did not want to let you out of his sight

not todayyyy

“are you okay, yeah?”

“perfect...”

busting into the control center :) tee hee

while owen was barking orders at people and telling them to not do what they were doing, you were sitting next to the guy with a bunch of dinosaurs on his desk

“you like them?”

“not really, i’m not five”

“oh...”

turning to the screen to see flatlining soldiers

“oh, shit. uh, that’s not good. you need to close the park maybe?”

they dont like listening to the child with the bright ideas ig

they did end up shutting off rides though. best they can do, huh?

claire couldnt get in contact with her nephews

you went after them together

it was a long ass journey

you almost died a few times

although your father did trust you to take care of yourself, even in a situation like this, he still was extremely worried for your safety

you got a gun :)

this was actually positively the worst day of your life

okay, it took a long while to catch up to claire’s nephews

“jesus, claire, you’re nephews sure know how to move. this is getting exhausting”

you didn’t find them until the......pterodactyls got loose

“pterry would never do something like this”

“not the time or place, y/n”

“sorry, dad”

finally finding those damn kids

“hey, i’m y/n, your crazy ass aunt just dragged me and my dad all the way around the island to find you!”

oh yeah a pterodactyl tackled your dad

whoop de do your gun was jammed

claire saved the day and all three of you witnessed their little display of pda amidst chaos

“wow, uh, maybe we’ll be cousins...”

your dad finally caved and agreed to use the raptors to find the indominus rex

and you got to prove your badassery out there

“you sure you’re up for this mission, y/n? you know you can stay with claire and the boys if you want”

“i’ll be okay, dad, i promise”

he gave you a hug

YOU GOT A MF MOTORCYCLE

okay i cant lie, you and your dad riding motorcycles side-by-side among velociraptors was probably the coolest thing you’ll ever get to do

but they, uh, kind of turned on you and next thing you know, you were speeding after the ambulance claire was driving

zach and gray were relieved to see you

you gave ‘em a little wave

“do you think we’ll ever be that cool?”

“gray, not now”

“i’m gonna take that as a ‘no’”

CLAIRE LET OUT THE MOTHERFUCKING T-REX

it was an Experience(tm)

you were split up from your dad and the boys while she was doing that

so you were deathly worried

running over there when it was safe

“is everyone alright?”

“define ‘alright’” -gray

“we’re fine, y/n” -zach

“are you okay?” -dad

“yeah, i think so”

this final battle between the dinosaurs was a bit shocking to watch, but it was hard to keep your eyes off

it all wrapped up and the dinos were let loose

and......the park got closed down

you and your dad were unemployed effective immediately

but your dad and claire finally got together

“you guys are sweet but are we all going to fit in that little camper?”

“we’ll make it work”

they did for a while

but there was a lot if arguing

your dad wanted to reside in the camper forever, claire didn’t, they broke up, you stayed with your dad to help him out during hard times, he decided to build a cabin

he claims he was not affected by the breakup but you knew better

you and your dad had an unbreakable bond, you’d been through so much together

it was only a matter of time before the world had something new in store for you and dad

taglist:

[a-pale-azure-moon]

Midnight Plays Azure Gleam: Chapter 3

I definitely was not expecting this turn of events! My interest in the story just increased about a hundred fold, though I'm not without some complaints.

Chapter title is "Crisis in Fhirdiad" and I'm immediately listening.

...But we start with a conversation between Arval and Shez that basically says nothing and goes nowhere. How is Solon's shapeshifting like Shez's super mode? They really don't look similar in the least.

Dimitri: "Power is neutral. The good or evil of it comes from the one who wields it." Yes, exactly! (Also, he considers the gift of his strength was so he could use it to protect others. <3)

Dimitri gets summoned to see Rhea because Rodrigue has arrived with a message. But rather than see that meeting, we cut to the Lions gathered together. ...Okay.

Wait, Rufus has declared war on House Fraldarius? And he's claiming Dimitri is Rodrigue's puppet? WTF?

Pfft. Felix sounds insulted at the accusation but naturally phrases it in the most asshole way possible.

Sylvain notes that he's heard nothing good about Rufus' leadership.

Huh. Ashe says Lonato used to be in Rufus' service. Interesting.

Now we get a scene with Dimitri, Rhea and Seteth. It's really sweet, actually. Rhea likens Faerghus to a child of hers (or the church's). Seteth makes a vague allusion to who I'm assuming is Gilbert/Gustave.

(Seriously, Sothis help you if you forgot/didn't pay attention to the story of 3H. They clearly assume that the player is going to remember every little detail of the mothership game.)

Ah, poor Annette's stuck in a difficult position in that Baron Dominic's territory is surrounded by lords who are likely to support Rufus. Ashe sticks with his gut and decides to come with us, regardless of what Lonato does.

This is all so weird though. What little we heard about Rufus in 3H implied that he was a lazy womanizer uninterested in being the regent, which was why he sucked so badly at it. But apparently here he's trying to seize power and kill Dimitri? It's tough to say if this is a straight up retcon or not given that Rufus was a vague character, but it still feels off. If they do something interesting with this however, I won't belabor the point.

Now we cut to an encampment and Annette's apparently left the party. Before I even had a chance to deploy her or use her. Good game design!

Rodrigue is here! He says Shez has been a boon to Felix. Really? He and Shez have known each other for a month at most. [Sigh]

Gilbert's here too, as predicted/expected.

Mercedes says Jeritza went to the Imperial capital. Surprise, surprise.

One of the NPC soldiers is scared of Dimitri because he "can't tell what he's thinking." I mean, I get that Dimitri might seem intimidating at first glance (he's royalty, he's physically imposing), but that kind of evaporates upon speaking with him for two seconds. This tidbit feels extremely forced.

Another NPC has a much more disturbing tidbit: Dimitri was under house arrest after Duscur?! And Rufus apparently cut off all contact he had with his friends on the outside, which...wow that's brutal.

Dedue "loathes" Rufus. Further, he says the western suppression Dimitri took part in two years ago was apparently meant to be an assassination attempt? This actually sounds plausible; I brushed it off as a Faerghus/warrior prince's duty thing in 3H, since Felix participated too, but it did seem odd for an orphaned crown prince with no siblings to be placed in a dangerous situation like that.

And there were assassination attempts at the castle too! This goes a long way to explaining why Dedue is so fanatically protective of Dimitri, aside from their obvious trauma bonding.

Seriously...poor Dimitri. As if his life hasn't already sucked enough to this point they toss in these new details. (Press X to hug!)

Now we get to see Rufus himself in the flesh, at long last. He definitely isn't as handsome as his brother or nephew, but there's still a strong family resemblance.

Dimitri's letter is nothing but respectful and practically begging for them to not come to blows, and Rufus thinks it's a threat and there's a ripping sound effect (nice touch). He refers to Dimitri as a "creature."

Cornelia's here too, still being her bad bitch self. She's a fun character to hate.

Rufus says Dimitri has "monstrous eyes." Has he actually seen Dimitri in one of his blood rages, or is this projection?

...Wait, what?? Rufus killed Lambert?? Do they mean that directly or that he was one of the conspirators in the Tragedy?

Cornelia (or Cleobulus, I guess is her Slitherer name?) is mad about something Thales is doing or failing to do. Probably meant to be a hook about Scarlet Blaze.

Back to the Lions. Gilbert flatly asks if Dimitri can strike down his uncle and Dimitri's reply is, "I will do what I must." He has his sad portrait face through the whole conversation, and Felix notes (with his usual complete lack of tact) that he looks like he's heading for a funeral. Oh boy...

Wow, this nugget. Dimitri says there was support for him to take the throne before he went to Garreg Mach, and that he didn't because it would divide the Kingdom. That flatly contradicts 3H, where it was stated that he was simply too young to be king (and he's not 18 yet here either, though I doubt that's going to matter). This is not a necessary thing to add; Rufus trying to seize the throne is enough for the scenario to work. Worse still is that Dimitri says he's "breaking" the peace by daring to fight Rufus for his own birthright. That mindset is in character, but it's still victim blaming and Shez (or someone else) should point that out to him, because otherwise it's just left dangling there like the player's supposed to think Dimitri's the bad guy here.

....Oh my god this map is HUGE! But I can finally switch units around at least, and Rodrigue and Gilbert are both here as green units.

The Lions comment on how Rufus (and Cornelia) are using the citizens of Fhirdiad as human shields. This sounds familiar...

I have no clue what I'm doing. This map is huge and confusing (there's tons of routes that are just blocked off) and I still don't have the feel of the gameplay down. It doesn't help that my other units tend to stand around and do nothing until I give them instructions.

I really wish I could take a moment to actually look around Fhirdiad.

Viscount Kleiman shows up as an enemy reinforcement. He's faceless, but I remember this guy was one of the conspirators in the Tragedy. Do I get to kill him outright or does he retreat?

Neither. He gets defeated and captured. Good enough.

This is so freaking chaotic. I would've greatly appreciated another lower-stakes map or two (or a practice mode) before having to do this.

MORE REINFORCEMENTS!

Now Cornelia comes out of hiding. Rufus is accessible as soon as she appears, so we get two bosses at once. True, they aren't in the same room, but this is way too much too soon.

And you have to go all the way around to get to Cornelia too! Seriously, I want to speak to the person who thought this was a good idea for the freaking third mission of the game.

OMG, her boss dialogue with Dimitri just punched me in the gut. She taunts him by saying he should've died at Duscur and his blunt reply is that he agrees with her! Holy shit. I was certainly not expecting the game to lean in that hard, but I guess that answers my fear about whether or not they'd ignore Dimitri's mental health issues.

Now for Rufus. He again calls Dimitri a monster, telling him he has no right to rule when he's barely human. Again, is this projection, manipulation from Cornelia, or has Rufus seen one of Dimitri's blood rages?

IIRC, the most Dimitri ever said about Rufus in 3H was that they didn't get along. I know it was a fairly common headcanon that Rufus was abusive, so I guess now there's semi-canon proof of it. Because again, Dimitri's life hasn't sucked enough already.

Taken out with a crest-fueled Knightkneeler. Didn't plan it that way, but I like the poetry of it.

I got a B Rank. I am not at all surprised. This map was so overwhelming compared to the last one. Way, way too much too soon.

Cutscene time. Felix says, "All traitors get put to the sword. It's his duty, as king."

Are they actually going to show the execution?

(Gilbert and Dedue are in the background. Nice touch.)

Rufus taunts Dimitri about slaying his own kin (like he's one to talk). And Dimitri looks absolutely torn.

HOLY CRAP THEY SHOWED IT! Bloodless and cutaway of course, but there's no mistaking the sound of the sword blow or the sight of Rufus' prone body on the ground. Wow.

...The shaky breath Dimitri lets out gives me simultaneous chills and the sensation of onions in the room. (Relatedly, what a treat it is to hear Chris Hackney reprising this role. He hasn't lost his touch at all.)

(Can I please Press X to hug!?)

Someone new speaking about the lords involved in the Tragedy, and how they received supplies from the Empire, and then implicates Cornelia and Arundel.

And this new face turns out to be Margrave Matthias Gautier, a.k.a. Sylvain's dad. Neat! Now we get a full name and a face for him too. Sylvain doesn't really look like him though, aside from the hair color.

Dimitri calls for this news to be spread around. Gilbert and the Margrave are kinda like, "you sure about that?" and Dimitri doesn't back down. It probably says something that in both fiction and real life that we expect politicians to lie/cover up the truth by default. But good on Dimitri for sticking to honesty. He's right that a cover up, if found out, would shake people's faith in him.

And Rodrigue announces he's stepping down and making Felix the new Duke of Fraldarius. I'm not 100% sure on the logic, but he's doing it as a way to shield (heh) Dimitri from criticism/guilt by association. I guess it makes sense enough.

Dimitri and Felix are officially school dropouts, lol. And Gilbert basically gets no choice about staying in the Kingdom, not that he fights it much. Annette will be thrilled I'm sure.

Cut to Shez, who asks if Dimitri's even slept since the battle. And he completely ignores the very legit question, of course.

He asks Shez to head a new private army in House Blaiddyd, because bribery was rampant under Rufus. Shez asks why them, and Dimitri says he wants the army to be comprised of commoners, not knights and nobles. <3

Short narrative teaser of what's going on in the other paths, and then...that's the end of the so-called "academy phase."

Given how rapidly the tutorials were thrown in my face and how bonkers chapter 3 was, not to mention how Annette wasn't even playable, this part was exceedingly crunched, not just in terms of story but in gameplay. The prologue really needed at least one more chapter to balance things out. I get that they didn't want to rehash White Clouds, but good grief was the pacing here bad.

Why'd they even bother including the Officer's Academy when it was so brief? I can't help but feel it was for marketing purposes, because it was far too short to matter story-wise. They could've easily just had Shez be a wandering mercenary who arbitrarily wanders to one of the three territories at the start or something.

Or you know, told a new story with Byleth still as the main character. That was an option too.

Snark and pacing issues aside, I liked this chapter overall, and I'm now genuinely curious about where the story is going from here.

[valeriethepussycats]

Inside Out

Chapter 1

Pairing- Loki x Reader

Warning- cursing

Your thoughts and other characters are in italics. Flashbacks are in bold.

“Long before the birth of light there was darkness, and from that darkness, came the Dark Elves. Millennia ago, the most ruthless of their kind, Malekith, sought to transform our universe back into one of eternal night”

Malekith is looking up at the Convergence

“Such evil was possible through the power of the Aether, an ancient force of infinite destruction.”

The Aether.

“The noble armies of Asgard, led by my father, King Bor, waged a mighty war against these creatures.”

The Dark Elves and Asgardians fighting.

Kurse walks up to Malekith. “Malekith! Asgard's forces are upon us.”

The Bifrost opens, and bor steps out with Asgardian reinforcements.

“Send the Kursed.” Malekith told Kurse.

Some soldiers crush objects in their hands and become giant hulk-like creatures. Malekith looks up at the Convergence again.

“As the Nine Worlds converged above him, Malekith could at last unleash the Aether...”

Malekith and Kurse walk up to the Aether.

However, the Bifrost opens and Asgardian warriors attack Malekith, whom he kills. The Bifrost disappears, just as Malekith tries to get the Aether, but it is no longer there.

“But Asgard ripped the weapon from his grasp. Without it, the Dark Elves fell. With the battle all but lost, Malekith sacrificed his own people in a desperate attempt to lay waste to Asgard's army.”

Malekith watches as his forces are slaughtered. “Their deaths will mean our survival. This war is far from over.” He and Kurse get onto his ship and escape without notice, while destroying the other ships in the process.

The ships kill some of the Asgardians.

“Malekith was vanquished, and the Aether was no more. Or so we were led to believe.”

“Sire, the Aether. Shall we destroy it?”

“If only we could. But its power is too great. Bury it deep. Somewhere no one

will ever find it.”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Earth, New York City

Wow! A lot has happened in the past couple of years for Y/n. She met an Alien/God, saved New York from an alien invasion, found out she has a soulmate who caused said invasion, and last but not least finding Gambit. Even though these last years had its up and downs. Y/n hadn’t been this happy in a long time, and spending time with Gambit is the cause of that. Spending time with him just make everything better it makes her miss Loki less (even though she didn’t get to spend that much time him). Now She was now walking down the street with Gambit eating ice cream in the middle of November.

“You met my mother. How that happened?” Y/n said taking a spoon full of her ice cream.

“The good professor wanted information on you.” Gambit answered.

“Charles Xavier knew about me and my where abounds this entire time.” Y/n said with an eye roll. “Apparently him and my father have an understanding with each other.”

“Your mother...she didn’t know you existed.” Gambit stated.

Of course she didn’t Charles fucked with her mind too what a big surprise

“Well that still doesn’t change the fact that she abandon me.” She said in a dry tone.

“You gave me a chance....you trusted me to protect you and I couldn’t.” Gambit said with a sad grimace.

Y/n to turns and looks at Gambit. “You did your best. You didn’t abandon me. Ya you could’ve call to let me know you weren’t dead but I wasn’t your responsibility. Those people were after her, and she didn’t want to get caught so she left me behind.” Y/n stated. “You gave me to my father so I could be safe so I wouldn’t be used by The Thieves Guild like you was. You protective me. You’ll always be my hero.....no matter what you say.”

Y/n turns away from Gambit and started to walk away. As she approaches the cross walk she hears a voice being broadcasted in her mind.

Please no!

“Someone is in trouble.” Y/n claimed.

“What?” Gambit mumbled.

Where are you

Oh my god

Where are you

In the alleyway behind the Barbecue Restaurants just off Main Street

Y/n takes off running to Ray’s bbq leaving Gambit in her dust. When she arrives in the alleyway and doesn’t see anyone.

Hello are you here

“Thank you for coming.”

Y/n turns around and see five Einherjar Guards. “Ummmm.Hello.”

“We are the Einherjar Guards of Asgard and our king wishes to speak with you on the behalf of Prince Loki Odinson.”

“What?”

“The king would like-“

“No no I get that but why.” Y/n said to herself.

Gambit catches up to Y/n and see her with a group of guards. “Petit? What’s happening.”

“I’m being summoned by the king of Asgard.” Y/n said with a small smile.

“A king!! The king of Asgard.” Gambit finished with a gaping jaw.

I get to go to Asgard!

“Look I have no problem coming but I’m kind of in the middle of something.” Y/n voiced.

“This is important the fate of Prince Loki rest in your hands.” Einherjar Guard said not trying to be pushy.

“Fate.....I thought Loki would have been went to trial.” Y/n turns and looks at Gambit.

“l..l hav-“

“No...no it’s find go I know how important he is to you.” Gambit said with a smile.

“But just find your way back Ya.”

Y/n is about to walks over to them when a thought runs though her mind. “How about you come with me?”

“Invitation is only for you.” Einherjar Guard chimed in.

“I see that but I’m just a mere mortal I wouldn’t be comfortable being on a world without someone who can relate to me.” Y/n said artfully. “Would you want to be on a world all by yourself?”

Einherjar Guards look at each other in confusion

“Or someone is going to have to tell the king that they could get a mere mortal to comply.” Y/n said with a smirk.

“He can come but he will be watched.” Einherjar Guard agreed.

“You heard em lets go.” Y/n said as she pulls Gambit and they stand next to the guards.

“Uhhh. What’s happening??” Gambit said with a curious tone.

“Heimdall open the Bi-Frost!” Einherjar Guard shouted.

“This is going to be fun!!” Y/n said In a giggling way.

Gambit looks over at her and could see the excitement in Y/n’s eyes. “What is about-“

Suddenly Bifrost opens! A portal surrounds them In an instant, they're gone.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Upon emerge from the Bifrost, Y/n and Gambit looks around at the Observatory.

“Woo-hoo...let’s do that again.” Y/n proclaimed.

“No I’m gonna need a bucket.” Gambit grunted.

“Y/n L. Munroe and....Remy E. LeBeau I am Heimdall The gatekeeper of Asgard.” Heimdall announced.

“Hi....” Gambit and Y/n said in-sink.

“You are a friend of Thor. He has told me much about you.”

“I wish I can say the same.” Y/n said with a smile.

“If you follow the guards they will lead you to the Castle.”

“Thanks.” Gambit said walks with the guard.

“Heimdall...I was hoping I could come back here.”

“What for?” Heimdall asked.

“Well I would love to hear all your stories, being able to see everything in the universe....thats kind of wicked.” Y/n answered.

“Of course you can.”

Y/n smiles at Heimdall then catches up Gambit and whispered. “Do you think I look ok to meet a king.” Y/n was wearing a Navy blue crewneck cable knit with some light blue jeans and white air force 1.

“Petit, you look fine don’t worry about it.”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Throne Room

Loki is in chains, as he gets brought to Odin.

“Loki.” Frigga said in a began.

“Hello, mother. Have I made you proud?” Loki asked

“Please, don't make this worse.” Frigga said with a calm voice.

“Define worse.” Loki said in a casual tone.

“Enough! I will speak to the prisoner alone.” Odin proclaimed.

With one last look Frigga walks out the throne Room.

Loki looks up at Odin and laughs. “I really don't see what all the fuss is about.”

“Do you not truly feel the gravity of your crimes? Wherever you go there is war, ruin and death.” Odin voiced.

“I went down to Midgard to rule the people of Earth as a benevolent god. Just like you.” Loki expressed with a shrugged.

“We are not gods. We are born, we live, we die. Just as humans do.” Odin specified.

“Give or take 5000 years.” Loki sarcastically remarked.

Odin: “All this because Loki desires a throne.” Odin put forth.

“It is my birthright.” Loki voiced.

“Your birthright was to die!!!....” Odin shouted. “.....As a child. Cast out onto a frozen rock. If I had not taken you in you would not be here now to hate me.”

“If I am for the axe, then for mercy's sake, just swing it. It's not that I don't love our little talks, it's just ... I don't love them.” Loki said perpetually tired voice.

Odin tap the Gungnir on the ground and the doors open. Loki looks back back at the doors to see who could possibly coming in.

“Are we to wait on Thor?” Loki questioned.

“No Thor has nothing to do with this......” Odin started. “This is about someone else. That you are not worthy of.”

Wow this place looks so amazing

“Do you still want the Axe?” Odin wondered.

Loki looks over at Odin with wide eye then turns around and see Robin she looks just as he remembered her. Breathtaking.

“Loki!!” Y/n called out.

Loki can tell she’s happy to see him, she had a broad grin on her face despite him being in chains. “Y/n.” Loki said with darted a suspicious glance at Odin. “What is the meaning of this!?

When Y/n reached Loki she stands next to him and looks up at Odin.

Should I bow

You Bow to no one

Y/n looks over at Loki with a quizzical smile and all she gets back is a coy smile.

She turns back to Odin smiling to herself.

“I brought Y/n here to say goodbye to you.” Odin said in A calm voice.

“Goodbye..why would I need to say goodbye.....is he getting-“ Y/n said in rapid blinking and shaking her head ‘no’.

“You brought Y/n here to spite me......how do you even-“ Loki fumed.

“Frigga told me a long time ago, when you was just a boy.” Odin explained. “And Frigga is the only reason you are still alive and you will never see her again. You will spend the rest of your days in the dungeons.”

“I thought he was going to die.” Y/n said like a weight was lifted off her shoulders, but then a relief is quickly replaced by anguish. “If you were going to do this then why do you bring me here? You should’ve left me on earth, instead of bringing me here when you’re just going to but him in the dungeons for the rest of his life.”

My life

Loki looks over at Y/n with knitted brows. “Y/n....”

“I know what Loki did on earth is unforgivable but-“ Y/n started.

“Did he or did he not kill someone close to you?” Odin asked.

“Yes he did and I kick his ass and my father brought him back.” Y/n answered.

“Your father.” Loki looks over at Y/n with his brows pulled together in a frown.

“Ant....Boot.” Y/n said teasing Loki softly.

“Oh.” Loki said with a blank stare and a paled face.

“Does he deserves punishment or not ?” Odin chimed in.

“Yes but-“

“Then it’s decided-“

“No. No. This can’t be the last time I’ll see him.”

Loki looks over at Y/n and see that black veins slowly starting to appear on the side of her neck.

Y/n, what is the matter

Nothing, I’m fine

“Let me have two weeks with him here on Asgard.” Y/n said not wanting to sound pushy.

“Giving you two weeks with Loki would give him happiness-“

“I’ll be in the dungeons with him.” Y/n said meaning the words more seriously than they sounded.

“You would do that.....” Odin said in curious tone. “.....for Loki?”

“Yes I would.” Y/n said firm persistence.

“Hmm.” With tap of the Gungnir, the doors open.

As the Einherjar Guards come in the throne room and takes Loki and they struggle to get him to leave.

“And what of Thor? You'll make that witless oaf king while I rot in chains?” Loki said with a rigid expression.

“Thor must strife to undo the damage you have done. He will bring order to the nine realms and then, yes. He will be king. “ Odin answered.

Loki looks at Odin and then Y/n as he gets drag away, then Odin looks over at Y/n.

“You can have your two weeks.” Odin announced. “You do not have to be in the dungeons with him.”

Y/n turns her head quickly to look at Odin. “What? why would you just-“

“Do you not want it?” Odin snapped.

Yes..yes I do thank you.” Y/n said sincerely.

“Frigga” Odin calls out for his wife.

Frigga walks into the throne. “Well if it isn’t Y/n Munroe, l am Frigga Queen of Asgard.”

Y/n turns around and see the Queen of Asgard. “Hello.”

Wow she is so beautiful

Frigga approached and took Y/n’s hand in hers and looks at her with a sweet smile. “We have so much to talk about.” Frigga said as she led Y/n away out.

“You are even more beautiful then I thought.” Frigga said with a voice soft with affection.

“No you are.” Y/n said with out missing a beat.

Frigga laughs. “Is this Midgard attire.” Frigga said with one hand spin Y/n around to see her full outfit.

“Oh yes it is.”

“It’s lovely your practically glowing like the morning sun my dear.” Frigga said with a smile.

“Thank you.” Y/n said returning he smile.

“Come dear there’s much we must do.”

Meanwhile Loki watches Frigga and Y/n walking and talking, unaware of the horrors that were occurring several stories below his feet.

“I can’t remember the last time Loki or Thor brought a friend home to meet us,” Frigga said to Y/n . “When a young man brings a young woman home to meet his parents…” Frigga began, implying a possible marriage between Y/n and Loki.

“Technically, I think we have only known each other for a month.” Y/n said, surprised to be having this conversation so soon.

“And if it were three million years, would that change how you feel?” Frigga asked.

Y/n thought on this.

It wouldn’t change one thing.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

“Beautiful golden sunlight shined down through the lush, vibrant forests of Vanaheim. Unlike Svartalfheim, the realm of Vanaheim was much more pleasant an environment. It was home to beautiful lakes and mountains, with vast fields of green spread out as far as the eye could see. But today, it was filled with danger and destruction.

The people of Vanaheim—known throughout the Nine Realms as the Vanir—raced through the forests as fast as they could. They were being chased by the Marauders, a race of space pirates—brutal invaders who were armed to the teeth and out for blood. Their sole purpose in life was to take what was not theirs, and destroy anything—and anyone—that stood in their way.

A frightened Vanir woman ran for her life but stumbled, falling down a riverbank just as a Marauder fired a massive fireball. It streaked above her head, impacting a nearby tree and causing it to burst into flames. As the woman regained her footing, she was confronted by a towering Marauder. He raised his razor-sharp ax, ready to strike, when suddenly a steel mace smashed the villain in the face, knocking him down, and knocking him out.

“Standing over the frightened woman was her savior—Hogun the Grim, of the famous Warriors Three. Hogun did not wait for a thank you, nor did he want one. The Marauders were running rampant across his home world, and Hogun was determined to stop them.

As more Vanir ran to safety, Hogun stood his ground—the only barrier between the fierce oncoming Marauders and the peaceful Vanir. The Asgardian warrior gripped his mace tightly and steeled himself, ready for what just might be the last battle of his life. With a skull-shattering roar, the Marauders charged, determined to crush Hogun and the rest of the Vanir people.

The lead Marauder raised his broadsword and swung, but his blade was deflected by another sword—the sword belonging to Fandral the Dashing, the second member of the mighty Warriors Three! Fandral, still handsome as ever despite the battle, rode through the charging Marauders on his white horse, knocking down one intruder after another until he was able to make his way to Hogun, flashing a smile the entire way.

“Do we have a plan?” Fandral asked his fellow Warrior as he flipped the lead Marauder off his horse and tossed.

“We stand and fight!” Hogun the Grim yelled.

Fandral rolled his eyes at his friend’s single-minded determination to fight. Then a loud Boom, Boom, Boom echoed throughout the trees. Fandral, Hogun, and the rest of the Vanir stopped in their tracks and turned their attention toward the deafening noise. It was coming from beyond the woods, and whatever was making the noise was big. Very big. The ground shook and trees fell with each sound as the unseen threat got closer and closer.

The Vanir did not follow Hogun’s orders to stay and fight, but instead quickly retreated into the woods. The idea also crossed Fandral’s mind.

“Have you considered ‘turn and run’?” Fandral asked, but Hogun only frowned in response. Then the grim warrior looked up and over the tree line and began to back away as well. Finding a Marauder’s horse without its rider, Hogun swung up into the saddle and galloped away. Fandral was close behind as explosions rang out throughout the woods. There would be time enough to fight later.

The two warriors quickly rode their horses into a clearing where the Marauders were fighting with a few of Asgard’s elite guards, the Einherjar, who had come to help the Vanir. Hogun and Fandral stopped before one of their Asgardian compatriots, the strong and beautiful Lady Sif, who was just as brave and tough as the Warriors Three.

Sif was on horseback, locked in furious battle with a dozen or so Marauders. Sif spun her bladed spear high over her head, taking down several of the barbarians, then split the spear in two, forming a magnificent blade for each hand.

Sif fought with fierce determination against the horde, but despite her resolve, she was gravely outnumbered. With all her might, she flipped off of her horse and delivered a powerful kick to one of the Marauders, sending him flying back past the third member of the Warriors Three, Volstagg the Voluminous.

“Volstagg—on your left!” Sif cried.

Without missing a beat, Volstagg swung his battle-ax at his attacker, striking him down with one fell swoop. And when another Marauder tried to attack him with a club, the voluminous one merely took the hit, then turned, broke the club in two, and backhanded the Marauder, sending him flying through the air. But all of this nonstop battling was beginning to take its toll on the excessively large warrior. Now out of breath, Volstagg made his way to a giant pile of timber where he could take a momentary break.

“What are you doing?” Sif yelled. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Here they were in a heated battle with villains known for decimating anything in their path, and one of the legendary Warriors Three was taking a breather.

“Giving them a moment…to regroup…only fair…” Volstagg said between long, labored breaths.

But no sooner did Volstagg stop to catch his breath than another horde of Marauders set their sights on the large warrior. They ran at him with their weapons drawn, but Volstagg merely kicked out the timber, causing it to collapse on and crush the approaching horde.

Volstagg gave himself a congratulatory grin, but it was short-lived, for just as he did, he was slashed across the back by a Marauder. He wasn’t as unstoppable or impenetrable as he thought. Nearby, Lady Sif wasn’t faring too much better. She was surrounded, and a Marauder from across the battlefield was aiming his crossbow at her head.

Just as the snickering Marauder was about to squeeze the trigger, a huge thunderclap echoed throughout the land, and with a bright, blinding light, the Bifrost—the way in which Asgardians traveled between the realms—fired down from the heavens into the center of the battlefield—and directly on top of the Marauder with the crossbow. Lady Sif raised her arm to shield her eyes from the spectacular blinding light and was just barely able to make out two Einherjar on horseback bursting from the glowing white column and charging into battle.

One of the Marauders used this commotion to sneak up behind Volstagg. He raised his sword high above his head, preparing to strike down the warrior, when a whizzing sound echoed from within the Bifrost. As the light died down and the smoke began to clear, the sound intensified. Suddenly, an object rocketed out of the Bifrost, sliced across the battlefield at supersonic speed, and slammed into its target: the Marauder who was about to strike down Volstagg.

The Marauder flew through the air and kept on flying. And flying. Volstagg turned, and upon investigation made out the object that had saved his life. It was the most famous weapon in all the Nine Realms. It was Mjolnir.”

The powerful hammer, which was forged in the heart of a dying star and used by only he who is worthy, hovered in midair before speeding back across the battlefield to the hand of its wielder—the mighty Thor!

Thor, Prince of Asgard and son of Odin Allfather, emerged from the light of the Bifrost looking battle-worn but still majestic, and the sight of him instantly gave the Warriors Three, the Einherjar, and the Vanir a renewed sense of hope. Now that Thor was here, they were sure to defeat the Marauders. But Lady Sif felt that she didn’t need Thor’s help to win the day.

“Shouldn’t you be battling trolls in Nornheim?” Sif said with a scowl.

“I ran out of trolls,” Thor said with a charming smile. “Heimdall said these Marauders were giving you trouble,” he added.

“I have this completely under control,” Sif retorted.

Thor surveyed the battlefield. “Is that why everything is on fire?”

“You think you can do better?” Sif challenged with a smile.

“It would be a challenge to do worse,” Thor said dryly before being surprise-attacked by two extra-big and extra-tough Marauders. Sif rolled her eyes in response, then joined her friend in battle.

Soon, Thor and Sif were joined by Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg. As the battle raged on, Thor used Mjolnir to take out multiple Marauders at once. And when one Marauder thought he might be able to seize the hammer by grabbing on to it, the hammer simply pulled the invader through the air, right to Thor’s waiting fist.

Thor, Lady Sif, and the Warriors Three fought bravely against the menacing Marauders, each one helping their fellow Asgardians. When one Marauder shot an arrow at Thor’s head, Sif jumped into the air and raised her shield to block the attack. And when another fired a rocket launcher–like device, Thor valiantly deflected the blast with his mighty hammer, the impact from which knocked them all to the ground—hard.

“As the Asgardians got back to their feet, they heard the same Boom, Boom, Boom sound that Fandral and Hogun had heard earlier. Whatever it was that was making that sound was much closer now. And the Marauders were getting ready for it. They parted the battlefield to make way, and the heroes looked up over the tree line and finally saw the cause of the sound.”

“A giant Kronan stone monster, made entirely of rock and standing fifteen feet tall, loomed before Thor and the Warriors Three. He held a massive metal club and looked down upon the Asgardians with contempt. The monster was about to crush their bones into dust.

“All yours,” Sif said to Thor as she and the Warriors Three began to back away. The Marauders cheered. This was the fight they had been waiting for! Surely nothing could stop their stone man, not even the Mighty Thor. The rock monster smashed his club into the ground and let out a thunderous roar, signaling the start of the battle.”

“I accept your surrender,” Thor said, but the monster only raised its club higher, preparing to strike. But Thor was ready. Holding Mjolnir by the strap, Thor began to spin his hammer. It spun faster and faster and faster until it was nothing but a blur and Thor was rocketed off the ground in flight. The monster roared again as Thor, flying with his arm outstretched and all the might of Mjolnir in front of him, launched himself directly at the great beast. There was a deafening Choom as the hammer connected with the creature, then a blinding explosion. The Marauders looked up in disbelief and their cheering stopped. Chunks of rock rained from the sky as the monster’s feet stumbled backward, disconnected from its body, which no longer existed. The upper half of the stone man had been completely obliterated by Thor.

“The Son of Odin gripped Mjolnir tightly and turned with a scowl toward the rest of the Marauders. Almost in union, the remaining Marauders dropped their weapons and raised their hands in surrender. The battle was over.

“Next time we should just start with the big one,” Fandral said with a smile.”

[pedros-mustache-main]

crayons & caresses

summary: you know it’s wrong, that pining after your student’s father is wildly inappropriate, but gosh if john deacon isn’t the most handsome man you’ve ever seen.

word count: 12k+

warnings: pining to the extreme!, slight angst, discussions of parental death, health scare + medical response, alcohol, language, innuendo, suggestive moments (not 18+ but be mindful)

a/n: mechanic/singledad!john is everything i didn’t know i needed in my life. also: WOW this took me a long ass time because i find john the hardest to write, but i love him so. much. so hopefully it’s worth the wait.

(photo: originally from @davidgayhan​ i think?? ugh look at him. i drool. yes i did set this during the brief short-perm-montreal moment. sue me)

september, 1981.

you love all of your students equally. each one is like a fingerprint on your heart: unique in their own way, made up of patterns and histories you will never be able to appreciate in full before they are whisked away to their next year. it is safe to say you adore the collection of twenty-four seven year olds who walk into your classroom each morning. their bright faces, some still chubby with baby fat, fill the lonely parts of your soul, and you leave your flat each morning with a sense of purpose and duty. you are their teacher, their guide through some of the most crucial parts of learning. it is an honor and a privilege to teach them—each and every one. but there is one student who sticks out among the rest. 

his name is beau deacon.

beau is remarkably quiet. he’s small for his age, both in height and in weight. at times, he appears frail, what with the way he sits by himself in the corner during reading hour, flipping through a picture book with glazed over eyes, never really concentrating on what’s before him. he walks slowly during recess, preferring to stay by himself and drag a stick along the blacktop than play a game of kickball with the other boys. he whispers when he speaks and avoids meeting the eyes of those who do try and pry a few words from him.

you try to engage him—really, you do—but nothing seems to stick. not the participation reward system you build just for him, but use for the entire class. not moving his desk closer to yours. not even coercing your best friend ami to bring in her therapy dogs one afternoon early in the year. despite your best efforts, beau remains decidedly uninterested and removed.

it bothers and worries you to the point of questioning your colleague on the matter. martha is sixty, but spry as ever. she’s been your confidant this last year. you’re new to teaching, green as ever, but she has welcomed you with open arms and a plethora of advice. you feel comfortable sidling up next to her in the car-line one friday afternoon. it’s hot outside, summer not yet allowing autumn to take root, so you hold a hand over your eyes to shade yourself from the sun.

“can i ask you something?” you say, keeping your eyes trained on the children who filter out of the school and into their parent’s waiting vehicles. 

“as long as it’s not about sex,” martha mutters. “haven’t had a good romp in so long i don’t even know if it still works the same way.”

you swallow a laugh as a trio of students pass you by. their mother waves over her shoulder, shouting her thanks, before shoving the children in the backseat of a tan mini-van. you watch the van pull away, another car rolling forward to take its place, before asking your question.

“beau deacon,” you start, hoping that, if you simply say his name, martha will fill in the gaps herself.

blessedly, martha twists and nods with a knowing smile. “i know that tyke well. had him last year.”

you release a huff of air in relief. “oh thank goodness. i’m almost beside myself. i don’t know what to do with him.” you frown as you attempt to speak as diplomatically about your student as possible. “he’s awful quiet. he doesn’t play with any of the children and barely looks at me when i speak to him. how’d you manage?”

to your dismay, the older woman just shrugs. “i didn’t really. his mum died all sudden like about halfway through the year, and he clammed up. no matter what i did, what tricks i tried to pull, he stayed completely unmovable.”

“oh.” your shoulders drop in defeat. “i didn’t know.” truthfully, your heart tugs for the child. to lose one’s mother at such a tender age? you can’t imagine the world of hurt he lives in. it’s no wonder he sticks to himself.

“you didn’t speak with his father?”

“no. was i have supposed to?”

“no, not necessarily. mr. deacon was helpful on a few occasions last year. we were sort of a united front, i’d say, when things were particularly bad in the beginning. perhaps give him a call. at least to let him know you’re in his corner.” she smiles and squeezes your bicep. “and you can always come to me, love. i may not have all the answers but i do have some.”

“thank you, martha. i think giving mr. deacon a call might be smart—” you turn at the tell-tale sound of feet dragging against the ground. in the few weeks since classes have started, you’ve grown to know the sound of beau deacon’s footsteps better than your own. he’s always on your mind, the sullen little boy with glasses, so it’s hard not to pounce on him with love when you turn around to see him in the school doorway. “oh! beau! we were just talking about you.” 

beau stops walking, and his grip tightens on the straps of his backpack. he doesn’t look up at you, doesn’t say anything. he simply stands there, as if he’s listening but doesn’t know how to respond, so you soldier forward.

“do you have any big plans for the weekend, beau?” you ask.

he shakes his head.

“none with your father?”

another shake of the head.

“well, perhaps you’ll do something fun and you can tell us about it on monday, yeah?”

to your surprise, he nods, which is more than he does most days. you can’t help the smile that claims your lips and the way your arm waves a little too hard to his retreating form. he walks to a faded old corvette and opens the passenger door with ease. you can hear a muffled voice—his father’s no doubt—and see the man stretch his arm out to take beau’s backpack. 

but then the car door is shut, and the chevy pulls out of the parking lot with too much speed to be safe when a child is in the front.

you glance at martha. she rolls her eyes and mouths men. you can’t help but agree.

a week passes before you finally find the time to phone beau’s father. you find his name—john richard deacon—and a telephone number in beau’s emergency contact form, shoved amongst a stack of other hastily filled-out parent paperwork. there’s no secondary number listed—not even a distant relative or family friend—so if the call doesn’t work, you aren’t sure what your next move will be. even so, after all the children have left and the other teachers are beginning to close their classrooms for the day, you slouch at your desk and punch the numbers into the phone. it rings three times before someone picks up.

“taylor auto-repair. this is rog.”

the voice on the other end is high and scratchy. you’re taken aback, both by the man on the phone and the blaring rock n roll music in the background. you aren’t an expert, but it sounds like zeppelin. not what you’d expected.

“hello?”

you shake yourself free of surprise, and the wheels beneath your chair scrape against the linoleum floor as you sit forward. “oh, sorry. i thought i was calling the deacon residence?”

“deacon? like john deacon?”

“yes, i’m beau’s schoolteacher. i thought—well, this was the number on the contact form.”

there’s a sigh, and the phone brushes against something rough before rog says anything more. “hold on.” when he speaks next, his voice is distant yet poorly muffled. “deaky! there’s some bird on the phone for you! what have i told ya about putting the shop’s number down instead of the house’s? fuckin’ hell, mate.”

you frown, pressing your fingers to your lips as you wait for... deaky... to take the phone from his co-worker. when a new voice does appear on the line, you again find yourself surprised.

“hello? this is john deacon.” john’s voice is almost lilting, like a song. it’s soft, comforting—though how you determine this from four simple words is beyond your understanding.

“mr. deacon, hi! my name is [y/n] [y/l/n]. i’m beau’s teacher. i thought we might have an over-due chat, if you have the time?”

“oh, hello.” there’s a pause on the other end, as if he’s considering whether or not he’ll entertain your out-of-the-blue phone call. “has beau done something wrong?”

you laugh despite the worried edge to his tone. “no, absolutely not! beau is a delight. he’s practically a model student. however, i do have a few concerns... do you have a moment?”

“yes, i can have. just give me a second.” the line goes muffled again, the only sound a fading rolling stone’s song before all goes quiet. you hear a door shut and the squeak of a chair before john speaks again. “i suppose this is about beau’s shyness?”

you choose your next words carefully, uncertain if john simply cannot accept his son’s retreat into himself or if he does not see it. you’d rather not jump to conclusions and alienate him on your first phone call, but you must admit your unease at hearing the word shyness. beau is far more than shy. despite the frown puckering your brow, you hold your concerns close to your chest for the moment.

“shyness is a word one could use, yes.”

“he’s been that way since his mum died last year.”

rolling your lower lip between your teeth, you nod. “i heard. i’m terribly sorry for your loss.”

john makes a noise somewhere between a huff and a grunt and does not acknowledge your paltry offer of condolence. “if you’re calling to ask how you can fix ‘im, i don’t have any answers for you.”

“i don’t want to fix him, mr. deacon,” you say. “i simply want to help.”

“i’m sure you’ve spoken with mrs. cooper then.” he sighs, and the sound seems to rattle the receiver pressed against your ear. “look, i appreciate what you both are trying to do for beau. but he’s young, and the pain of losing his mum— i just don’t want him to rush into moving on.”

“oh, mr. deacon, that’s not my intention at all!” you wince at the high-pitch of your voice and clear your throat. good lord, this was not going as you’d planned. “i just want him to feel comfortable in the classroom, that’s all.”

“that’s kind of you, but i think it might be easier if you just let beau work it out for himself.”

you fall silent and glance down at the hem of your blouse. there’s a blue thread dangling from the article of clothing, and you pull on it, watching the thread unravel until it falls free from the shirt itself. 

in all honesty, you’re puzzled by john’s hesitance to so much as entertain your concern. anyone—student, teacher, classroom parent—who comes across beau knows he’s more than shy. it’s written in his face, in the way he holds himself, in the way he shuffles aimlessly to and fro. god, he breaks your heart. you want to wrap him in a blanket and protect him from the cruel world.

but you’re not his mother. you’re merely his teacher, and you must respect john’s wishes despite how wrong you think they are. perhaps, in time, he will come around, see the need for a little concerted effort in helping beau work through his obvious grief-stricken state.

“is there anything more i can do for you, ms. [y/l/n]?”

clearing your throat again, you sit straighter in your chair and fiddle with a pen on your desk. you click the depressor up and down, up and down. “no, there’s not. i’m sorry to have wasted your time.”

“you didn’t,” john says—and his voice has that indescribable soft quality you noted the moment he first spoke. “really, it does mean something to me that you even thought to call.”

“i care for my students a great deal.” you aren’t sure what brings the words to your lips, but the second they fall past your tongue, a flush crawls up the back of your neck. you’re sure you sound like a petulant child, whining at the mere inconvenience of a rejected idea.

“i can tell.” his tone is anything but salty. in fact, the truth dripping from each word leaves you decidedly flustered. you click the pen faster, your leg bouncing beneath the desk.

“yes—well—i’ll leave you to it.” though you add, “if ever there’s something i can do for beau, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“i’ll be sure to.”

after a rushed goodbye, you drop the phone to its base. the hard-plastic clatters, the coiled wire dropping in a pile on the desk. you press your fingers to your eyelids and groan. both deacon boys, it seems, have the power to infuriate and melt you at the precisely the same moment.

this, you think, does not bode well for the rest of the year.

if you’re being honest, you have to admit that you think of john deacon often as the school year falls into a comfortable rhythm. no matter how hard you try to forget the phone call, forget the way his voice lulled you into a strange sense of serenity, he’s like a specter in the back of your mind: always there and definitely uninvited.

still...

when the children work silently at their desks, you sit behind yours and struggle to keep your mind from wandering to either of the deacon boys. when you greet beau as he walks through the door each morning, you resist the urge to drop a question about his father’s well-being. when the faded red corvette pulls to the curb each afternoon, you bite your tongue and fist your hands at your sides to keep from introducing yourself properly through the open window. 

it’s embarrassing, really, how much the phone call with john deacon has affected you. it’s embarrassing how... interested you are in his life. you’re a schoolgirl with a crush—a crush on a man you’ve never even seen! if you were to admit your undue fascination with the deacon household to your best friend ami she would laugh in your face and remind you how desperately you need to get out more. you keep your wonderings and your daydreams to yourself to save her the trouble of telling you what you already know.

come mid-november, when the students are well-adjusted to their daily routine and you’ve learned how to juggle so many personalities at once, you finally pause to take a breath. the breath comes at the end of a school-day. it’s drizzling outside—not raining, but not dry either. the sky is a wash of gray and a deep purple. there’s a storm coming, a bad one too from the looks of it. humming to yourself and contemplating whether or not you should stop by the grocery on your way home, you tug on your jacket and step outside the school into the chilled autumn air. 

you’re about to cross the parking lot to your car when you hear a harsh sniffle come from your left. you pause, keys in hand, and twist to see a huddled form on the curb. it’s clearly a student and a young one at that. knees drawn to their chest, backpack large over their back, fingers interlaced on their knees, they are the picture of a frightened schoolchild. the hood of their blue raincoat obscures any defining features, so you hustle to their side and kneel down, but not before glancing at your watch.

nearly four. someone’s been forgotten.

“hey?” you tilt your head to try and catch a glimpse of the face beneath the shade of the jacket hood. “did mum not come through the car line?”

you barely stifle your gasp when the slick raincoat crinkles as the student turns to meet your gaze. 

it’s beau deacon.

his eyes are puffy, tears still clinging to his blotchy cheeks. beneath the wide frames of his glasses, fear swims across his gaze. he draws in his lower lip and rubs his hand under his nose. his eyes flicker to the ground, his toes tilting inward.

you press a hand to his shoulder. he feels so small beneath your palm, like a fragile piece of clay, molded by tragedy and loss in such a short span of time. “where’s your father, beau?”

he shrugs. “dunno.”

“i guess he’s running late.” you look at your watch. very late. “should we give him a call?”

beau nods, and you stretch to your full height, offering your hand to help him from the curb. beau does not take it as he stands. he pushes his glasses up his nose and follows you inside the school office where he hesitates in the doorway as you borrow the receptionist’s phone to call the auto-shop.

no one answers.

lowering the phone to its base, you look over your shoulder. through the venetian blinds you can see the sky darkening as you hem-and-haw. in the distance there’s a flash of lightening, and fat raindrops dot the tan sidewalk.

you could leave beau with the receptionist. it’s not uncommon for parents to run late or completely forget about their child. normally, betty calls the child’s guardian and gives the waiting student a granola bar and coloring page or picture book to flip through as they wait for the mortified adult to speed to school. there’s nothing obligating you to stay. 

just as there’s nothing obligating you to offer to drive beau home.

you look at betty and calculate the words of your offer. “would it be wrong of me to drive beau home? he lives on my way ‘s all.” boldfaced lie—at least, you think—but what betty doesn’t know can’t hurt her.

betty doesn’t stop clacking on her electronic typewriter. “i don’t think so.” she peers over her glasses at the clock hanging over the door, still typing. “i’ve got a dentist appointment in half an hour, so i don’t have time to wait around today. you’d be doing me a favor, love.”

“alright, it’s settled then.” you slip the thin strap of your purse over your shoulder and turn to beau with a toothy grin. “i’ll drive you home. maybe your father just isn’t feeling well today and overslept?”

beau frowns, and inwardly, you cringe, your smile faltering. beau’s mother died of an illness, so it likely disconcerts him to think of his father in a similar state. in a piss poor attempt at an apology, you grab a piece of chocolate from the bowl near betty’s desk and slip it in beau’s hand as you make your way to the parking lot. the faintest flicker of a grin crosses his face as he methodically unwraps the candy. you take that as a sign of forgiveness.

once beau is snug in the backseat of your station wagon, you pull into traffic with a bubble of giddiness in your stomach. what you’re doing is ridiculous. though you feel horrid beau was left behind, there’s a sick park of you that is glad for it. it’s unlikely you’ll ever meet john deacon unless fate throws you together. he did not attend back to school night, and as a single father, you doubt he has time for any of the other parent-student events on schedule for the rest of the year. in all honesty, you’re taking this opportunity to put a face to the man behind the phone call that’s plagued you with daydreams since it occurred.

if you can just see his face, just learn what he looks like, perhaps the fascination with fade. unless, of course, he turns out to be as attractive as your mind has made him out to be and then you’ll be in even hotter water than you are now.

adjusting yourself in your seat, you glance in the rearview mirror. beau has his head pressed against the foggy glass of the window, his eyes scanning back and forth as he takes in the surrounding scenery. rain droplets create dark shadows over his face, and you wonder if that’s what he feels like on the inside: foggy and rainy and shadowy. you shake the thought free; you read too many melodramatic novels.

“so, beau, what’s your address?” you ask, your tone obnoxiously chipper. he tells you, and you shrug as you tighten your grip on the steering wheel. “gotta give me more than that, hun. do you remember how to get home? do you think you could tell me?”

beau nods and scoots away from the window, leaning nearer the space between the driver and passenger seats. there a gleam in his eye. you catch sight of it as you turn right at his instruction and see him hovering near your shoulder. it seems that with each turn you make his voice inches a decibel louder until you can hear every word with a clarity previously unknown. he’s confident when he’s instructing you, when he knows what he’s supposed to do.

he’s confident when he’s helping.

you tuck the bit of knowledge away for later as you pull into the cracked driveway of a red-brick bungalow. the house is small and unadorned, the homes on opposite sides just as plain and simple. a single spruce tree, like something out of a holiday catalog, is the only foliage in the yard. gauzy curtains are drawn to block the sunlight coming through the two bay windows framing the white front door.

you turn the car off as beau slides across the bench to open the car door. grabbing your handbag, you all but tumble after him, hastening up the sidewalk.

“wait a minute! beau!” you punctuate your call with a breathy laugh and smooth the sides of your hair back as you approach the front door. the bubble of giddiness from moments before has turned to a bubble of nerves, and once again, you realize this moment is entirely ridiculous. still, you adjust your blouse and straighten the crooked edge of your collar.

beau’s left the front door open, his shoes and backpack already tossed on the living room floor. you hesitate at the threshold. you haven���t been properly invited in, but the open door might just be beau’s way of telling you it’s alright to invade his home. at least, that’s the message you decide to take. 

crossing the threshold, you hold tight to the strap of your purse and glance around the cramped front living area. beau’s nowhere to be seen, and the home is silent as the grave. you bite the tip of your tongue when your gaze falls over a photograph of a woman holding a baby. it’s beau and his mother; has to be.

maybe... maybe you’ve overstepped your—

“beau, is that you?” the sound of heavy footfalls on stairs snaps your attention away from the photograph. before you can slip away and forget you ever had the silly notion of meeting your student’s father with the intent of something other than a professional hello, a man rounds the corner.

your eyebrows shoot up your forehead. it’s not the john deacon you’d imagined.

he’s shorter than you pictured, only several inches taller than yourself. his jaw is sharp, peppered with a five o’clock shadow, and a thick mustache almost covers his upper lip. a white wife-beater tucked into green trousers completes the ensemble, and his bare feet pad across the floor as he sticks his hand out in greeting.

“you must be the teacher!” he pumps your hand up and down, his grip crushing but his smile wide. his voice is friendly and welcoming, though you can’t be sure it was the voice you heard over the phone. so many days have passed since then, perhaps you just forgot, though it’s highly unlikely. 

“i’ve been trying to call deaky ever since i got here, but the damn fool just won’t pick up. i don’t even know where beau’s school is so i couldn’t come and get him myself. the ship we run here isn’t very tight.” he rolls his eyes with a grin. “thanks for bringing him home, darling.”

your head swims as you struggle to keep up with the man’s fast pace. so, he isn’t john deacon? and john deacon isn’t here? you open your mouth to ask the first of several questions but he beats you to it.

“hell, you look positively confused. shut the door, won’t you? the rain’s getting in, and molly was always worried about the the hardwood. i’ll put on the kettle.”

“oh, i don’t—”

he bumps your hip toward the door. “nonsense! deaky will want to thank you for driving beau home.” he’s around the corner before you can refuse, so you shut the front door against the steady rain and slip off your shoes, leaving them beside the two pairs already against the baseboard.

you’re quick to follow him to the kitchen. the walls are a muted yellow, the countertops clear but the sink full of unwashed dishes. the refrigerator in the corner is bare save for the back to school letter you gave to each student to bring home to their parents. that—and a photograph of four men in a basement. it appears to be a homegrown band of sorts, and the man behind the drumkit is shouting at the man who looks like an overgrown string bean. you’re not sure which one is john, so you turn away, feeling rather out of place when the man at the stovetop says:

“beau’s probably in his room. he always holes himself away as soon as he gets back. doesn’t come out until supper. that’s when deaky gets home.” a pair of mugs clatter against each other as he pulls them from a cupboard. “brian says it’s just a phase, that he’ll grow out of it once he processes molly’s death, but i’m not certain.” the man’s eyes flicker to you, and he laughs, loud and short. “oh dear, i’ve done it again! i forgot you’re not in the loop. i’m freddie,” he explains. “part-time nanny, full-time diva.”

you accept the mug of tea as freddie passes it to you, a smile lifting your tight mouth. “[y/n] [y/l/n]. so you’re beau’s... nanny?” 

freddie drops to the round kitchen table shoved in the space between the kitchen counter and the wall. you follow suit and stir a drop of sugar in your tea. “you could call it that. i just watch him in the afternoons, between school and deaky getting home.” he sighs. “since molly... well, things have been hard to juggle.”

“i thought mr. deacon picked beau up from school? unless that was you in the car i saw?”

“heavens no! i don’t drive!” freddie laughs again. “that was deaky you saw. he takes his break at the garage long enough to pick beau up and bring him here. i guess he and rog were overrun today. bet beau was terrified. poor dear...”

you glance over your shoulder, down the dim hallway leading to, you assume, beau’s bedroom. there’s a half-full laundry basket deposited outside another open door, perhaps the bathroom. a few mislaid toys litter the carpet. it’s reassuring, knowing that beau has a few good men in his life, willing and ready to raise him. still, there’s a pervading sense of loneliness throughout the bungalow. you saw it in the photos on the living room wall, but it’s here too: in the dead roses, brittle to the touch, in the table vase; in the index-card note tucked on a notch in the cupboard, the feminine handwriting unreadable from your spot at the table.

freddie’s voice is somber when its breaks through the thick air. “complications of pneumonia,” he says, following your gaze to a wedding photo on the hallway wall. “it came on quick but didn’t last long, thank heaven.”

unbidden, tears prick the corners of your eyes. you’ve never felt more like an intruder—and you know why.

your crush on john deacon is misplaced. you see that now. realizing what you’ve done in coming here—twist a child’s terrified moment of abandonment for your gain—makes you sick to your stomach. what kind of person are you? assuming a recently widowed father would be at all interested in his son’s pesky teacher? the thought brings a flush to your cheeks, and you rise from the table all too fast. the mugs of tea wobble when your knee connects with the underside of the table.

freddie frowns at you. “you okay, love?”

“i—” how to explain yourself without sounding a total fool or heartless woman? “i think i’ve overstayed my welcome” is all that comes to mind, and you aren’t surprised when freddie uses his foot to push your chair back out from under the table.

“sit down. john will be home soon. let him thank you then you can go.”

from where you stand, you look to your right. the front door practically screams for you to politely decline freddie’s insistence and high-tail it to your car, to get out while you still have the chance. but he’s making it too easy to stay for what you’ve come for: a peek at the illusive john deacon. you know you should go, that you should leave well enough alone, but despite your best intentions, you find yourself sitting down again and allowing freddie to bombard you with questions about teaching life.

half an hour later, when your sides hurt from laughing while freddie regales you with the dramatic story of beau’s birth, the door to the garage opens and closes with a loud click. you twist in your seat, arm draped over the back, and bite your lip hard to keep from drawing in a sharp breath.

by god, he’s a stone-cold looker. better than you could have imagined.

john deacon stands in front of the garage door, his head of tight curls wet from the rain. he’s tall but not towering, his shoulders made broad by the leather jacket across his back. he hasn’t noticed you or freddie as he’s too preoccupied with wiping the grease on his fingers across a piece of soiled cloth. he turns, not towards you, but towards the hallway when beau tumbles out of his room with a shout of joy. beau races down the hall, his arms extended, and jumps into his father’s waiting embrace. john mumbles something in his son’s ear, ruffling his hair, before dropping him back to the ground. the sullen little boy jumps around his father’s feet, chattering in great detail about his day at school, though he forgoes mentioning his father’s absence in the car-line. 

you exhale, a wash of new tears covering your eyes as you stare at beau. he can be happy. you’d thought it impossible.

you must have exhaled louder than you thought because john looks over at the sound. his brow tightens in a frown of confusion, his eyes flicking back and forth between yourself and freddie, but freddie is quick to explain. he stands from the table and takes your hand, pulling you to your feet.

“deaky, this is [y/n] [y/l/n], beau’s teacher. remember you spoke to her on the phone?”

your cheeks heat at the thought of him mentioning the phone call beyond the walls of the auto-shop. warmth spreads over your face even further when he gives you a tight-lipped smile and extends his hand. you slip your fingers over his palm, and he shakes your hand.

for a moment, your hands linger as john glances at beau, who is tucked behind his leg. he cringes, groaning. “please tell me you didn’t go out of your way to bring beau home today?”

you drop your hand from his and clasp your fingers before your waist. scrunching your nose, you tilt your head to the side. “well...”

“bloody hell,” john murmurs. he screws his eyes shut and runs a palm down his face. “i’m sorry,” he says. “you shouldn’t have had to do that.”

“it was no trouble, really. in fact, you live on my way home.” the comment isn’t a falsehood. you’d realized as beau pointed his way home that your flat lie only a minutes down the road. just as it had then, the realization sends a nervous clench to your stomach now. the thought of the deacons so close...

“you must think me a horrible father.” as he says this, john reaches around to smooth his hand across beau’s back. the gesture, done mindlessly, almost makes you laugh. how could anyone find him a horrible father?

“absolutely not, mr. deacon.”

the corner of his mouth twitches upward in something close to a smile. “john, please.”

you roll your lips together and blink rapidly to keep your eyes from going wide. john. “lots of people miss the car-line. it happens more often than you think.”

“well, let me give you something for your trouble.” he slides past you, the scent of cologne and car oil in his wake. his movements are stiff, hampered by beau who insists on clinging to his father’s leg, his ankles crossed over john’s foot. 

“i don’t want anything, john.” you almost trip over his name. it tastes good, strong and steady. god, you’ve got it bad. “it wasn’t a hassle.”

john ignores you as he slides open a kitchen drawer. unsatisfied with its contents, he reaches for another before meeting your eyes with a wry smile. “all we’ve got is take-out menus anyway.” he shuffles nearer, beau still heavy on his leg. “thank you, ms. [y/l/n], for bringing him home. i got sidetracked at the shop and—” he sighs. “anyway, just... thanks.”

“again, you’re welcome—and call me [y/n].”

there’s a moment where you’re simply staring at one another, the room around you lulled to a comfortable silence. john is handsome, of this there is no doubt. perhaps he’s not striking in a classical way but you’re sure someone would have killed to chisel a bust of his face during the sixteenth century. it’s regal and sure in all the right places, but soft where it counts: around the eyes. when he chuckles at something freddie says, his eyes fold around the edges, and your heart all but gives out.

“what do you say, [y/n]?”

“sorry?” hopeful no one caught you ogling, you bring your attention front and center, turning to freddie. his proposal dawns on you a second too late to be anything but obvious. “stay for dinner? no, i can’t do that.”

“why not?” freddie reaches out to pinch your forearm. “it’s our way of saying thanks, and neither of us will try to poison you with our cooking. we’ll just have brian bring something ‘round.”

you shake your head and scoot around freddie to lift the handbag hanging from a kitchen chair. “i’d like to, but i’ve stayed too long already. perhaps another time.”

prying beau from his leg, john trails behind freddie as you make your way to the front door. freddie wishes you well, reminding you to drop by any time, and john simply lifts his hand in a motionless wave. on the front stoop, hair tangled around your face by a sharp wind, you lean your torso across the threshold.

“mr. deacon—i mean, john,” you say quickly, willing your voice to sound stronger than you feel. “if you’d like, i can drive beau home in the afternoons. i live not five minutes from here, and it wouldn’t be any trouble.”

john hesitates. beau stands in the kitchen, his head poked around the corner. john looks over at his son then back at you. “that’s a kind offer, but i like coming to the school.”

your eyes flick to beau, to his round, soft face and intelligent eyes. yes, if you were his mother you’d enjoy coming to pick him up too.

with a nod, you retreat into the wind. “well, the offer still stands.”

as you slide into your car and pull out of the driveway, waving to beau who now stands in the doorway, you hope against hope that john will accept the offer one day—just so long as it means you get to see him again.

he calls during the middle of show-and-tell. you nearly forgo the call as abby sinclair insists on lifting her pet toad for all to see and you’re worried she’ll drop it, but you’re waiting for a message from the front desk—missing package again—so you pick up on the last ring.

“hello?”

“hi, ms. [y/l/n]. it’s john deacon. is this a bad time?”

“oh, mr. deacon!” you wince at the delight coloring your voice and tear your eyes away from abby, who has handed her toad off to max. “i was expecting a call from the front office.”

he snorts out a rushed laugh. “sorry to disappoint.”

you brush a lock of hair behind your ear. “no, not at all.” out of the corner of your eye you catch max squeezing abby’s toad between his palms, and you push the phone away from your ear. “oy! max, knock it off! abby, please put the toad back, dear?”

john is chuckling on the other end of the line when you return to the call. “sorry,” you say. “show-and-tell.”

“i know. beau was excited this morning.”

with a smile, you glance at the boy in question. “he did very well. everyone was impressed with what he brought.”

“brian made that for him as a birthday gift, so he can’t take any of the credit.”

“he didn’t! he explained who made the planets, but he did want to be clear about who painted the stars.” you hesitate, the sound of laughter over your shoulder reminding you not to get too entangled by the sound of john’s voice. “is there something i can do for you, mr. deacon?”

“right, yes. well, it’s a bit awkward... do you remember a few weeks ago when you drove beau home?”

you nod, the memory lifting from your heart with ease. how could you forget? you only replay the evening like a film every night before you fall asleep. “of course”

“do you remember offering to drive him home again?”

“yes.”

“i’m in a jam at the shop and can’t leave this afternoon. would you mind? taking him home, that is.”

you answer without hesitation. “i can do that. it’s not a problem.”

“you’re a life-saver. it’s just with freddie not driving... i guess what i mean to say is thanks. it helps me out a lot.”

“i’m happy to do it, john.”

“i promise i’ll make it worth your while this time. proper take-out and all.”

“you really don’t have to do that,” you say, hoping he does anyway.

“no, freddie will insist. i’ll let you get back to class for now. thanks, [y/n].”

“don’t mention it. good luck with your jam at the shop. i hope it’s cleared up soon.”

“me too. all the sooner to get back to beau—and you.”

he hangs up before you can respond, and you’re left with your jaw scraping the floor and your heart in your throat.

all the sooner to get back to you.

the words circle your head like a drug for the remainder of the day. you can barely focus as you teach, stumbling over your words and through math equations and spelling tests. 

surely he didn’t mean it like that. he probably just tacked you on at the end of the sentence in his haste to get back to work. he probably wasn’t thinking when he spoke.

but, by god, you were listening. 

you’ve never been so head-over-heels for a man in your life. each day when you wake up with john at the forefront of your mind, you wish for a morning where you can stay in bed and dream of him all day—his voice, his smile, his gentle way with beau. it all makes you crazy. ami calls your fascination puppy love and claims it will fade with time, but you wonder if it’s gone deeper. you’re interested in more than john deacon’s looks. you’re interested in what makes him tick and whether or not he’s in a band with the three other men who constantly appear in every conversation you share and whether or not he misses his wife and what his hair looks like when he wakes up in the morning. you what to know him and be known by him.

all the sooner to get back to you.

perhaps it’s wishful thinking—a dreamy idea on the part of a lovesick woman—but part of you wonders if he feels the same way about you.

driving beau home becomes part of an unspoken routine. after sharing dinner at the deacon household that second evening, john admits when walking you to your car how overwhelmed he can feel between his job at the auto-shop and his responsibilities with beau. with a tentative hand on his forearm, you promise you’ll help lighten the load. he thanks you by squeezing your fingers with his, and then he’s gone.

it begins by driving beau home every monday, wednesday, and friday. you enjoy your time with him. as soon as he settles in the back seat of your station wagon, he comes alive. the protective shell he wears in the classroom is replaced by the bright and earnest eyes of a seven year old boy, curious about the world and all it has to hold. he asks you questions and tells you stories, and you laugh as you watch the light dance in his eyes. he’s a sweet child, and you truly treasure the afternoons you spend with him.

one friday, you drop him off and find the cozy bungalow empty. beau has stopped retreating to his room once returning from school—at least, this is what freddie tells you—so you’re not completely surprised when beau invites you in for an afternoon snack. you are surprised by the empty house, however. freddie is nowhere to be seen and neither is john. what concerns you even further is when beau opens the refrigerator and slams it shut with a huff.

“nothin’,” he mutters, slumping to the table with a groan.

“what?”

“there’s nothing in the fridge.”

“what do you mean by that?” you cross the floor and open the fridge, hoping beau’s comment is nothing more than a hungry child displeased with the array of choice and nothing to his liking, but you find his statement to be true. the fridge is woefully stocked—naught but a half-filled carton of orange juice, three apples, and a sandwich wrapped in tinfoil. you glance over your shoulder. “is it always like this?”

“no.” beau circles about on his chair. “but it’s happened a few times since dad and uncle rog got more busy at the shop.”

“well, that won’t do. grab your shoes, beau, we’re going to the market.”

once returned from your grocery run, you teach beau how to make spaghetti. he stands beside you on a stool, pushed up on his toes as he watches you prepare the boiling water and pasta. as you wait for the pasta to soften, you set about crafting a homemade pasta sauce. it’s your mother’s recipe, and it’s easy to make. easy enough that you allow beau to carefully slice the tomatoes under your supervision and dice the onions and sprinkle the spices.

the kitchen smells like your childhood: fragrant yet simple, sweet and comforting. somewhere in the waiting for the sauce to simmer, beau turns on a radio and draws you to the center of the kitchen. he holds your hand tight and kicks his feet to the music. you laugh and mirror his movements. he grabs your other hand and steps on his stool, forcing you to bend in an awkward twirl around his finger. you struggle but complete the movement, though he attaches himself to your shoulders like a barnacle. you whirl around on your socked feet in attempt to toss him off, but he holds tight, his fingernails digging into the skin of your collarbone. he squeals in your ear, a mixture of laughter and gasping breath and shrieks.

“mama, mama, stop!” 

he says it without thinking, his head lolling against your shoulder as you stop short at the sound of his breathless voice. he giggles against your back then releases himself and slides to the floor. you stare at him, feel his words in the back of your throat like an uncomfortable burn, and then you hear the garage door shut.

you swallow hard and force your eyes from the yellow-and-white linoleum floor. beau hops from his stool, sauce-covered spoon in hand, and rushes to his father’s side.

“daddy, look, we made dinner! miss [y/l/n] and me!” he tugs on john’s shirtsleeve, but john’s just staring at you, his face unreadable. beau turns to one of the other three men crowding the hall behind john. “uncle roggie, taste it!” he forces the spoon in the face of a mulleted blond.

eager to break the thick tension, you motion to the spaghetti. “i—there wasn’t anyone home so...” your sentence trails off, and you bite the inside of your cheek.

so many eyes on you. you feel exposed against them all, caught in a domestic moment with a child that’s not your own in a home that’s not your own.

john looks over his shoulder, eyes flashing in anger. “fred?”

freddie winces. “about that, deak.” he rubs the back of his neck and glances at beau. “i can explain later.”

“you’d better,” john mutters.

“i should go,” you say at once, hastily grabbing your things from the table. your keys jingle in your hand with the force of your anxiety, and you stub your toe against the floor in your hurry to put your shoes back on.

john’s hand on your arm stops you. you look up, stooped as you try to slip the back of your sandal over your heel. he looks down at you, face still remarkably unreadable. “no, please stay,” he says. “you made supper.”

you shake your head and rise to your full height. “i’ve intruded enough already.”

you’re embarrassed, too. the gaggle of men heard beau’s slip up; they heard him mistake you for his mother—and certainly they saw the immediate flush of happiness rise over your cheeks at the sound.

mama. you’d always hoped, always wished, someone would call you that one day. you just didn’t think you’d hear it from a student with a deceased mother and a father you pined after first.

“[y/n], stay.” john’s voice is soft, breathy, and his eyes flit back and forth between yours with a startling amount of intensity. 

how can you say no?

once the dinner has been divided, you sit beside john on the couch in the living room. the kitchen table is too small to host the gathering, so the living room was deemed appropriate just this once, to beau’s great delight. he sits on the floor at the coffee table, a tall glass of milk beside his plate of pasta, his eyes bouncing over everyone in the room with unrestrained joy.

“beau, why don’t you introduce everyone for miss [y/l/n]? she doesn’t know all your uncles.” john nods to his son in encouragement, and beau is only happy to take the job.

standing, beau crosses first to the impressively tall and curly-haired man sat beside him on the floor. “this is uncle brian. he likes space and teaches all the big kids at uni.” 

he moves to freddie, who sits on a plush armchair. “this is uncle freddie, but you already know him.”

the last man leans against the foyer table, his ankles crossed and sunglasses still perched on his nose. beau pats his arm. “this is uncle roger and he works with daddy.” in a stage whisper, he adds, “he thinks he’s a lot cooler than he really is.”

roger guffaws and lightly pushes beau’s head to the side. “oy, you twerp, take that back!”

glancing about the room, you nod in greeting. “it’s nice to meet you all. i’ve heard quite a bit.”

brian smiles at you from the floor. his legs are bent awkwardly beneath the coffee table, and you’ve noticed the way he helps beau cut his side salad and keep sauce from dripping to the area rug. “all good things i hope?”

“oh yes, of course.”

“[y/n], dear, you really must tell brian what that student of yours did last week,” freddie pipes up. “it had me laughing well into the night. i’m sure some of his twenty-year olds are much the same.”

“i shouldn’t, fred.” you look at beau, who is watching you in interest. 

freddie nods in understanding and tugs on his earlobe. “little ears, yes. maybe another time.” he pushes brian’s shoulder with his foot. “really is a riot of a story.”

as supper progresses, conversation twists and turns down different avenues. you explain how you came to teach in the area and find you used to work with one of brian’s newer colleagues. freddie tells the group about his recent run-in with an angry bird watcher in the park. his gestures are so grandiose he whacks roger in the chest, who has come to sit on the arm of fred’s chair. there’s more laughter than there is silence, and you settle back in the couch. at one point, john drapes his arm over the back of the couch—not around your shoulders, but close enough to send your heart into overdrive. it’s all you can focus on—the proximity of his muscular arm behind your head—as brian explains to beau the difference between the big and little dippers. even as roger describes the ramshackle band they four participate in on the weekends, you barely register the words because you swear to the high heavens you feel john’s pointer finger purposefully brush against your shoulder.

beau begins to yawn sometime near the eight o’clock hour, and you jump from the couch when you realize you’ve stayed so late.

“good lord, i’ve got to go!” you shuffle about the room, gathering your belongings, as john rises behind you. “i didn’t know it was so late!”

his hands are in his pockets, and he studies you as you put your shoes on. “got a big date tomorrow?”

you frown. “no,” you say on a laugh. “i’ve actually got breakfast with my mum.”

he looks away for a moment, but you can’t help but note the edge of a smile.

he grabs his jacket from the coat-stand when you’re ready. “i’ll walk you out.”

at the door you wave to the others. “good night, all! it was nice to meet you.”

roger tips an imaginary hat. “i’m sure we’ll meet again, [y/n], if deaky has anything to say about it.”

freddie kicks the back of roger’s leg, and the injured man doubles over in a yelp of pain. “you fucker!” freddie mutters. “you know that—”

john ushers you out the door before you can see or hear any more.

the night air is chilly, and you warm your arms around yourself. you reach for your keys in the depths of your purse and slide them into the lock on the driver’s side of your car. it’s dark out. you can barely make out john’s features beneath the light of the moon, but when he shuffles to the side, an automatic flood light turns on above the garage. you blink against the sudden light and smile, chuckling beneath your breath as your vision adjusts. you’re not eager to leave quite yet, and he doesn’t seem eager to send you away, so you both stand, looking at one another in the darkness of the drive.

“your friends are nice,” you say.

he hums in agreement. “m’yes, they are. we just started as a screw-around band a few years back, but when molly got sick...” he pauses, clasps his hand on the back of his neck, and shrugs. “they’ve been my lifeline, y’know?”

“i can’t imagine what that was like, losing her. i’m glad you had them around.” you suck in a deep breath. “about earlier... i didn’t know beau was going to say that, and i’m sorry it happened. i realize that my... involvement might appear to be me wheedling my way into your family, but that’s not it, really! i mean, i like you and beau—as friends—but i’m not trying to...” you sigh, shaking your head. “i’m sorry it happened ‘s all. i don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

before you know what’s happening, john’s reaching out to cup your cheek. his smile is soft in the glow of the moon and the floodlight, and your heart stops in your chest. 

his thumb brushes over your cheekbone. “i haven’t seen beau that happy in a long time. you’ve brought a lot of joy back into the house, [y/n].”

you’re sure you’re sweating despite the chill of night. you shake your head, but his hand holds fast against your face. “no,” you whisper. your voice sounds heady, even to your own ears. “beau’s just a good kid.”

“yes, and you’re a good teacher.” 

is his face inching closer? you’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe.

“a good teacher and a good person.”

if it weren’t for your firm hold on the car door handle, you think you might slip to the ground in a puddle of goo. 

his lips are on yours, then, and you fall into his arms as he holds you against himself. you have dreamt of this moment far too many times to count, but you never thought it would happen. really, you thought you would finish the year without ever knowing the taste of john’s deacons lips. 

but there he is, and there you are, and he tastes like the wine he drank during supper. he is more eager than you thought he would be, and soon he has your back pressed against the door of your car. you huff into his mouth and feel your eyes roll back into your head when he drags his lips across your jaw, inching closer to that spot behind your ear. your arms practically quiver around his shoulders, and you open your eyes long enough to catch a glimpse of a particularly bright star winking down at you.

he catches your lips again, and you feel hot and delicious all over.

“john,” you mumble against his mouth. “john.” 

loathe as you are to stop the moment, you do, pushing his shoulders until he pulls himself away. his hand still cradles your hip, and he looks flushed in the moonlight. you’re sure you look equally as rumpled.

you grin. “well.”

he matches your smile, though it’s fleeting. “call you, yeah?”

unlocking your car door, you nod. “please do, mr. deacon.”

he shakes his head on a chuckle and shuts the door, waving gently as you pull out of the drive. when you’re several homes away, out of eyesight, you drift to the side of the road and blast the air conditioner. then you pound your fists against the steering wheel and let out a muffled squeal of delight.

he doesn’t call you. 

when you sit down to think about it, it’s not that great of a surprise. you’ve been around him only a handful of times, and though you’ve both been comfortable in those moments, you don’t blame him for resisting whatever it is he feels for you. there’s beau to think about. you’re his teacher; surely there’s some line you shouldn’t be crossing? there’s molly too, and her memory and the years they spent together and the child they had together. 

if anything, you figure he’s using you to test the waters of romance again. those stolen touches and deep stares and that kiss in the drive—it’s all just experimentation. the conclusion drawn from those experiments? he’s not ready.

you sigh, take another sip of wine. maybe you should stop driving beau. you like john; you like him a lot. and after that kiss, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. you thought about him before, but never this much. he threatens to consume your every waking moment, and it scares you because he’s not interested. desperately pining after a disinterested man means one thing: ruin. if you stop driving beau home, put some distance between yourself and the deacons, the puppy love and infatuation will fade over time.

it has to or you’ll go crazy.

it’s early evening, and your stomach grumbles. your flat is quiet as you putter around the kitchen in search of a suitable supper. there’s not much in the cupboards and even less in the fridge. you desperately need to go to the grocery store. take-out it is. withdrawing a handful of menus, you spread them out on the counter and flip through them mindlessly.

your thoughts are elsewhere. always on john.

you wonder what compelled him to kiss you. he’s an enigma, john deacon. you’ve seen him in moments of great levity—when he’s around beau or his friends or recounting a story from his youth. he has an infectious laugh, delightful crinkles around his eyes, and a quick wit. but he can be hard, too, like an immovable stone. he’s quick to toss a glare at anyone in his way in those moments of weakness, and his biting wit can turn sour at the drop of a hat. you chalk it up to weariness, those moments. weariness, loneliness, frustration. it doesn’t phase you, though perhaps it should.

with a groan, you drop your forehead to the cool counter and shut your eyes. the kiss lingers on your lips; it has the entire week since. you want him badly—in more ways than one.

the telephone rings, and you startle, clutching a paper menu to your chest. “fuck,” you whisper. you need to get a hobby other than daydreaming. pressing the phone to your ear, you barely get out a word of greeting before someone’s shouting at you on the other end.

“[y/n]? it’s fred! we’ve got a fuckin’ problem over here.”

you frown. “freddie? what’s going on? why are you are john’s? it’s a saturday.”

“no time for that! how fast can you get here?”

“well, i don’t know. i’ve got to—”

“beau’s sick! he’s on the bathroom floor, moaning and groaning and—shit!—[y/n], i don’t know what to do!”

“i’m sure it’s just a tummy ache, fred,” you say. “i see it all the time in my class. give him some pepto and he’ll be fighting fit in the morning.”

“no, [y/n]!” something in fred’s tone—a raw, animal fear—has you standing straight, your heart stuttering in your chest. “he said he feels like he’s gonna die just like molly did!”

“okay, okay.” you begin to move toward your bedroom, but are yanked back by the phone chord attached to the wall. you stumble backwards with a grunt. “okay, i’m coming, fred. just hold tight.”

“fucking hurry!”

you slam the phone down, rush to your bedroom to change from your nightclothes, and jump in the car without a pair of shoes. as quickly as you can you race to the deacon household. the sun dips low, casting an orange glow over the suburban streets lined with family cars. you grip the steering wheel tight, your heart thumping a prayer of protection for beau. 

the driveway of the bungalow is empty, the garage door thrown open. the old convertible john toys with in the evenings is parked inside, but his everyday vehicle is gone. cutting the engine of your car, you run through the garage and into the house. fred stands in the hallway, pressed against the bathroom door. he looks ridiculous, clad in a bright yellow bathroom and bunny slippers, but he pounds his fist against the door, pleading for beau to unlock it and let him in. he turns at the sound of your bag dropping on the carpet.

“oh, thank god,” he breathes. he grabs your arm and wrenches you to his side. “beau, miss [y/l/n] is here. why do you talk with her, huh?”

before you say anything to beau, you frown at freddie. “where’s john?” your whisper sound harsh in the dim lighting of the hallway.

“at the shop. overtime. i can’t reach him.”

you jerk your head to the phone sitting on a side-table in the living room. “go try again and i’ll stick with beau here.” when he’s gone, you slide to a sitting position on the floor and press your ear to the thin wood of the door. “beau? beau, honey, it’s me.”

beau only groans in response.

“beau, can you please open the door? i want to help you. that’s it; just help.”

there’s a pause then you hear: “no. go away.”

“it’s okay if you’re embarrassed, beau. we all get sick sometimes. fred and i just want to help you feel better.”

there’s the sound of water sloshing and then a hard sniff. “i want my mommy.”

“oh, baby, i know.” you clear your throat to work past the lump rising to the surface. “come on, just let me in. i promise it’ll be okay.”

“but... what if i die like her too?”

“that’s not gonna happen, beau. i promise.” he doesn’t respond, so you plead once more. “please let me in.”

he shuffles to the door, unclicks the lock, and cracks it open. through the opening, you can see his pale face gleaming with sweat. gently, you push the door open further.

beau’s curled on the floor, his head bent toward his knees. his arms tighten around his stomach, and a spasm ripples through his body. he’s dripping with sweat, his star wars pajamas soaked through. hot air clogs the room, and you switch on the overhead fan. pressing your fingers to his forehead, you cringe and draw back. he’s burning up.

“beau, baby, what hurts?” you finger some of the sweat-matted hair away from his forehead. 

“my tummy.”

“what’s your tummy feel like?”

beau shakes his head into the floor. “bad.”

“do you feel like you’re gonna be sick?”

“already did. on my floor.” he opens his eyes long enough to stare at you through thick lashes. “i’m sorry.”

“don’t apologize about that. we’ll get it cleaned up later. i’m just gonna go get you some water, okay?”

he groans, shifting against another spasm of pain. “okay.”

stepping back into the hall, you grab freddie’s arm before he can slip into the bathroom. you tug him to the safety of the kitchen. his eyes dance between yours, expectant.

“well?”

“did you get ahold of john?”

“no, the fucker.”

“we’ll have to go pick him up then.”

fred’s brow twitches. “what? why? what’s wrong with him?”

you throw a glance down the hall when beau whines. “i think it might be his appendix. my dad’s burst last summer and he looked a lot like beau does now.”

“fuckin’ hell.” freddie runs a hand across his mouth. “just what deaky needs.”

you nod in agreement. “i know. we’ve got to take beau to a hospital, though, before it gets any worse.”

“yeah, yeah, i know. go get the car started and i’ll meet you in a minute.”

several minutes later, you’re en route to the auto-shop, freddie cradling beau in the backseat of your station wagon. the drive is tense, your bare foot hard on the gas pedal. beau wrestles and whines against freddie’s hold, continuously asking for his parents and where you’re taking him.

no one wants to say the word hospital, so his cries go unanswered.

freddie directs you to the auto-shop, his phrases terse, and you pull into the drive with a sharp squeal of tires on gravel. with the car still running, you hurry across the parking lot, loose pebbles catching on your feet. music blasts from a stereo within the garage. it’s loud and obnoxious and keeps you from locating john fast enough.

“can i help ya, miss?” a lithe man steps out of a side office, his hairline receding and face near gaunt. 

“yes—i’m looking for john deacon.”

the man continuously wipes his hands on a dirty rag. none of the oil and grease on his fingers budges. “he’s down there.”

dirt and grime covers the bottoms of your feet as you race down the shop. cars of all varieties line the wall to your left, some stationary on the ground, others lifted towards the vaulted ceiling. there’s a handful of men at work, but you don’t recognize any of them as john. you’re prepared to start shouting his name when a familiar voice stops you.

“[y/n]?” it’s roger. “can’t get enough of our deaky, can you?” he’s chuckling as he steps out from behind a truck. “what are you doing here?”

“it’s beau,” you say, and his face falls.

“over here.” roger wastes no time in finding john beneath a volkswagon beetle. only john’s legs are visible, his knees bent and leather boots firm on the floor. he curses when roger hooks the toes of his shoes around a curve in the sliding plate on the floor and drags john out from under the car.

“what the fuck, rog? i—” john stills when his eyes land on you. his muscle tee is loose over his chest, and a line of grease mars his forehead. he swallows. “[y/n]... i...” he sits up. “i’ve been meaning to—”

though you’re curious about the end of his sentence, you cut him off. “beau’s sick. we’ve got to take him to hospital.”

the blood drains from john’s face in an instant. the wrench in his hand clatters to the cement ground, and he’s grabbing your elbow, pulling you toward the exit, before you can say anything more.

“crystal, i’m gone!” he shouts, practically shoving you in the direction of the car.

there’s either no reply or you don’t hear it because john shouts for freddie to move the fuck over and give him beau. you slide behind the wheel and pause, twisting to catch a look at the scene in the back. 

beau looks like a newborn swaddled in his father’s arms. his face is wet with tears and sweat, and he sobs in his father’s grasp. john feels beau’s forehead and frowns, muttering an oath under his breath. then his eyes flick to yours.

“what are you waiting for? go!”

you don’t need to be told twice.

it’s another fifteen minutes before you reach the hospital. your head throbs under the stress of it all: beau’s pitiful moans for help, john urging you to go faster, freddie barking directions as he slaps the headrest behind you. before you’ve pulled to a complete stop, john is out, beau in his arms. you shoo freddie after him. 

“go! i’ll park the car.”

by the time you’ve found a parking space and picked your way across the parking lot, beau’s been admitted for emergency surgery. his appendix, as you suspected. it’s a routine procedure, and he’ll be fine within the next hour. relief floods your system at the news, and you find john and freddie sitting beneath a large fish tank in the waiting room. you take the open spot beside john and cross your ankles.

“your feet are disgusting,” fred says. he points to the bottoms of your feet, dark with dust, dirt, and grime. 

you shrug. “forgot shoes.”

the quiet of the waiting room is both a comfort and annoyance. a clock on the wall ticks loudly, and the fish tank bubbles at an uneven rate. every breath you take feels too loud, and the antiseptic smells cling to the inside of your nose.

still, the quiet gives you a moment of rest. you catch your breath. you let the knowledge of skilled and capable doctors working on beau ease your heart-rate. it will all be okay; he’s going to be okay.

you glance at john. his fist is pressed against his mouth, his eyes shut. his leg bounces, and you dare to reach over and lay your hand against his knee. he stills, his eyes flashing to you.

“he’s going to be okay, john.”

on the other side of john, freddie jumps to his feet. “i’m going bananas just sitting here.” he rubs the side of his head. “might burst. i’m gonna give brian a call.” he stalks away, his bunny slippers slapping against the linoleum floor.

you shake your head, biting back the urge to smile.

but then john’s fingers curl around yours, and you can’t help but give into the grin.

you look up, meet his eyes.

“i didn’t call you,” he says.

“no, you didn’t.”

he shifts in seat and looks to the floor. “you should be wearing shoes.”

at the turn of conversation, you frown then follow his gaze. “yes, i suppose.”

“take mine.” he releases your hand to bend down and undo his laces.

“no, john, don’t be silly. i’m fine.”

“please, [y/n], take the shoes.” he slides the boots toward you, and you begrudgingly slip your feet into the warmth of his shoes. 

you look silly, the pair of you—your ill-fit mtv t-shirt, loose jeans, and oversized leather boots; his muscle tee with the aptly faded word muscle scrawled across the chest, his faded jeans, and socked feet. one of his toes pokes through the end of his sock, and his exposed arms look cold in the frigid air of the waiting room. you laugh.

“we look like a pair of bikers or something.”

the corner of his mouth twitches upward. “not much of a biker. that’s crystal’s territory.” he doesn’t look at you when he continues speaking. “i’m sorry i didn’t call.”

on a sigh, you drag the boots across the carpet. though it pains you to do so, you let him off the hook. “it’s not a big deal, john. it was just a kiss. no promises.”

“i know.” his head tilts to the side. “but i wanted to call you. nearly did twice, but i chickened out.” he turns, then, and meets your eye. “i like you, [y/n].”

you smile, but know it doesn’t reach your eyes. still, you reach for his hand again. “i like you too, john. i’ve enjoyed getting to know you and your family.”

he shakes his head, and when he speaks, his voice is firm. “no, i like you. that’s why i kissed you and that’s why i didn’t call. because you make me so bloody nervous.”

your shoulders drop, as does your jaw.

“ever since you dropped beau off that first time, i’ve been thinking about you and about you and him together and then he called you mum and i saw the way you acted with him and—” he pauses for a breath. “molly was different with beau. i mean, she loved him, but she was always so fragile and worried and—and that’s not the point! the point is that you make beau happy and you make me happy. and i want to be happy again.”

“john...”

his grip on your hand tightens as he leans closer. “make me happy, yeah? i’m stubborn as a mule and shy, too, but i want you—badly.”

the fire in your heart spreads at his words. it spreads throughout your body until you feel like you could burst and shine a light into even the darkest corners of the earth. a laugh bubbles forth from between your lips. you lift a hand to stifle it.

“you want to know something?” you ask.

“what?”

“i’ve been pining after you, john deacon, ever since i heard your voice over the phone. i was content to just wallow in my daydreams, but this seems better.” you lift your fingers to brush his chin. “a lot better.”

“i can’t promise i’ll make a good boyfriend. i’m pretty rusty.”

“me too. we can be rusty together.”

he grins, leans forward further, his nose brushing yours. “can’t promise there won’t be hiccups. i’ve got baggage.”

“i can carry it.”

he kisses you, his hand on the back of your head, keeping you firm against his mouth. you grin, your teeth knocking his as you laugh. his curls are soft against your fingertips, and you hold on for dear life when he chuckles into your smile.

“mr. deacon?”

john kisses you once, twice more, before pulling away to look at the doctor. “yeah?” he doesn’t sound the least bit embarrassed to be caught in such a position in the middle of a hospital waiting room, but you hide your face against his neck. your cheeks hurt your smile is so wide.

“beau’s ready to see you now.”

john stands and extends at hand. “comin’, dove?”

your footfalls are hard against the ground, the boots heavy around your ankles, as you walk with him hand-in-hand to beau’s hospital room. you lean against his side, breathe the comfort of him in, and smile.

yes, this is much better than your daydreams—baggage, boots, beau, and all.

[lover-of-trash-and-people]

bittersweet netflix shadow and bone finale (s1 e8) rewatch; accoutrement: white wine with ice cubes in it (no YOU'RE a mom drink shh)

my wine's like fruity I love her

light and darkness title card we love to see it

Inej looking at Alina before she goes below deck to hide <3

okay that 'what can you really do on your own' was like not fun that shit hurted

okay but Jesper's 'not enough'? <3

oh no my baby Zoya's first inkling that Darkles does not really care

omg Helnik just appeared and I remembered how much heartbreak I have to face in this episode

gods I love Danielle as Nina so so much

'this can't be it' said she with her pleading smile with downturned eyebrows MA'AM I-

don't break my dumb little heart

I might hate Calahan's little accent but they're making me tear up

oh gods I literally cannot keep a hold on myself when Dani's accent bleeds through with full force, it's like she comes more alive or smth

'I will keep you warm' SIR WHAT-

I am surprised they showed a leaning in for a kiss so soon but I'm not mad about it

her little eyebrow twitch at 'what are waffles'

when that rando said 'i hunt slavers now' a dread settled into me because I knew what was about to go down

Matthias looking somberly at the stuffed wolf's head </3

I am so incredibly entranced by this exchange between Fedyor and Nina and what it represents, it's very interesting that they pushed up their storyline to match with the timeline

damn it's kind of jarring to be back in the Fold

'REMEMBER WHO'S DRIVING'??!!!! *you better stop* meme, *i am, disgusted* meme, *oh wow, oh wow* meme

Mal you fucking idiot you could never take the crows by surprise

the music rising as Kaz starts explaining his thought process, fucking perfection

haha Mal bitchass Inej caught you

'Because if he isn't with Kirigan's crew, he's with ours' WHEN I TELL YOU I SCREAMED

'And why would we destroy the Fold? It's the greatest weapon we've got' valid point at the moment but you know I don't necessarily agree with your methods

the use of the light tunnel in the show instead of Alina just being a super flashlight in the books is quite an interesting addition as well

is this an inappropriate time to point out how pretty Ben Barnes is

okay I kind of love the depiction of the shadow powers okay sue me

'they are traitors who tried to kill you' why are you suddenly making valid points despite having kind of committed low scale genocide

'i never said I was smart' YES MAL BE THE VOICE OF HIMBOS EVERYWHERE

Kaz's face going from 'can you believe this idiot' at Mal to 'fuck me I'm gonna do the same thing aren't I' at Inej

'For who would oppose us now?' *himbo romantic rival appears out of nowhere and shoots at him* god I love this show

him standing calmly in his ridiculous all black attire after nodding at his soldier to stop the himbo in his tracks, i fucking can't

could she summon light without the Darkling making her after he put the collar on her until the uhm moment in the books? idts but in the show she can hmm

'only because I'm not in the game' you tell him Jesper

not me snickering at 'you'll be seen not as a saviour, but as a heretic' LMFAO

'Shame. I'll have to give that speech again now.' THIS SHOW IS A FUCKING COMEDY AND YOU CAN'T PROVE ME WRONG

YES LET'S FUCKING GO SULI SOLIDARITY

Darkles casually whipping the Cut out like a shuriken or a throwing knife at Jesper because he shot at him lmao I can't

INEJ FUCKING GHAFA STABBED ONE THE OLDEST AND MOST POWERFUL PEOPLE IN THAT WORLD AND THAT IS VERY TELLING OF HER POWER

that moment where you actually think that affected him despite having read the books and watched the show

and then he has to go and fucking say 'it will take more than this' and I can't be help but be a little bit impressed at this old fool's resilience

throwback to when he said 'the king is a child' sir you make some valid points sometimes and it does make it difficult to hate you

I would just like to inform everyone that it is currently 6:09 am IST and I am sipping my second mug of wine while watching netflix sab for the second time instead of doing my three papers that are due tomorrow

I'm sorry but Inej jumping to check on Zoya after she gets knocked over by the volcra? first class display of solidarity and sisterhood as well as Inej's inherent kindness

Kaz jumping in front of a FUCKING VOLCRA AND STABBING IT WITH HIS CANE to save Inej, you best believe love is true, kids

god the volcra are so ugly and gross, they did such a good job with them

they kind of remind me of these creatures (I think they might have been called Hollows or smth) from the Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children movie

STAG VISION TIME

despite my dislike for the callous nature with which the stag plotline was handled, I kind of dig the stag vision scene

'It's just me and you now, Alina. And we're all we need, anyway.' I actually feel bad for this old fool simping for this wonderful gorgeous powerful woman despite lying to her and manipulating her and exploiting her power

okay 'I never needed you' *stabs the bone fragment out of his hand* beautiful power move I fucking love you so so much

alright ben looking like ✨ that✨ not only in physical pain but also emotional pain at what the Darkling clearly considers another betrayal from this girl he wants to give the world and maybe? loves? maybe? or at least has feelings for makes my fucking heart hurt while simultaneously soar at Alina taking back control and reclaiming her power as her own and stepping into her own

'how do you claim such power' okay could have had better dialogue there writers

the fucking score lifting as she says 'you cannot claim what was not given to you' good people my heart is full

one day I'll talk about my defense of the chosen one trope because god damn I kind of love it

hmm I wonder was that brief hesitation that we saw on Alina's face due to her thinking about the 'you chose to betray our people' comment or the 'i was trying to save us' comment because that will define some of her actions in the later seasons (hopefully god if we get some, I honestly don't know what with this stupid brownface debacle)

I'm not saying talking about brownface and pointing out that it is wrong (for further context, I am actually brown) and harmful is stupid btw I'm talking about the incidents involving brownface in question

I don't wanna talk about this anymore but I might feel like I need to and end up posting about it idk

goodness Ivan actually believing in this cause makes me so sad because he too has been victimized by the system that ostracizes Grisha and he has every right to feel the way that he does

Ben actually fighting in that ridiculously heavy cloak and kefta when he's about to turn 40 this year makes me super impressed because I as a 19 year old sometimes wake up with muscle pulls after weeks of inactivity it's weird idk

also I understand that this Mal Darkling fight is completely fanservice and serves nearly no purpose to the plot in general but like I? love it?

'I don't have to kill you Darkling. Your past will do it for me' YES HIMBO GO OFF YOU TELL THAT OLD MAN GODS THAT WAS SEXY AS FUCK

maybe it's because I know Darkles will survive and will come out of it more powerful but I can't get myself to feel bad for him at the moment

Inej and Mal tearing up at Alina's condition made me almost feel something despite it being super obvious she was gonna be fine and save their asses at the last moment

HER POWER

a solitary Kaz in spotted on the western side of the newly expanded fold in his signature all black emo boy look

okay but the crows with zoya and malina is such an adorable team? I literally love them so much?

INEJ'S FUCKING SMILE AT ALINA GIVING HER THE DAGGER AND KAZ LOOKING AT HER AGSGSGSHSJSJSK MY HEART CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE

SHE KNOWS JUST WHAT TO NAME IT WELL GIRLIE I KNOW IT TOO AND MY FUCKING HEART IS LITERALLY GONNA BURST

okay I know they had one interaction but Mal and Jesper would be besties in another universe

Kaz glaring at Jesper when he answers ''course not' to Alina's 'will you still be trying to kidnap me?' tell me one fucking adaptation that got the dynamics between characters this perfectly

okay why do I love that Alina kept the jewellery as maybe a small nod to she has the wits to, um, you know, I don't wanna say steal, but, um, yeah, steal it because she knew she would need money to survive on the run

oh Jessie I love you so much I wish you hadn't said those things on you ig story about the brownface

it's like every single celeb I grow attached to god's like nope that one is going to do or say something problematic (hey btw im not reassigning blame to god for stuff people have done out of their own free will, 'twas a joke)

AAAAAAAH them saying 'the deal is the deal' in the show even though they didn't have to but like they did and I love them for it

Inej literally not being able to not stare at Kaz's face and smile after this <3

'I didn't expect it to burn at all. But it can be destroyed in the end. Just like him' babe you're not wrong but like um just you wait

god Mal being on supportive boyfie mode is well, absolutely adorable, obviously, but I wish we got to see more of him as a person outside of his attachment to Alina

kaz my little demjin I wish you hadn't have had to suffer so much to meet the crows and find your calling

fastforwarding Zoya's arc is also an interesting choice to me

I wish the hug hadn't been done though, it didn't feel earned

maybe Alina awkwardly and half-heartedly (remember, at this point the alliance is fresh and they still don't entirely trust each other) reached for a hug and Zoya avoided her? and then the rest of Zoya's lines followed? that would have made more sense to me at least

I love Sujaya as well, she brought life into Zoya with whatever little screentime and scraps of writing she got

inej asking kaz 'what's your angle?' beep bop bleep morp I sense another incoming embarrassing love confession

'but we do need you' *stares at her face intensely* 'I need you' ah look at the clock, look's like it's time to screech and flap your arms like you're a volcra because you're incapable of containing your emotions

NO YOU CAN'T GO DIRECTLY FROM KANEJ PROGRESS TO HELNIK BREAKUP (TEMPORARY, MIND YOU)

helnik my loves you don't deserve this I'm so sorry for both of you

Matthias fucking smiling ruefully while he says 'this was... just a cruel joke all along' THIS IS NOT FUCKING OKAY

omg hellgate

AAAAAAAAH NINA IS ON THE SAME FRAME AS THE OG CROWS I CAN'T HANDLE THIS

CAMERA PAN FROM KAZ SAYING 'JUST HOW THIS ALL STARTED... WE'RE GONNA NEED A HEARTRENDED' TO NINA OVERHEARING HIM AND LOOKING OVER?????!!!!!! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING THIS TO ME?!

Nina genuinely being curious as to the status of the sun saint because she obviously still cares

Also, 'But she is a Saint' okay Kaz trying to earn brownie points you have succeeded

DID THAT SAILOR JUST SAY 'GOED MORGEN FENTOMEN' TO MALINA BECAUSE I AM NOT OKAY WITH THEM JUST THROWING THAT IN MY FACE ALL OF A SUDDEN

gods I know I'll probably see them again but my heart is full of sorrow as my eyes drink in the sight of my crows for the last time for a while

I know people were annoyed at the meadow flashbacks but guess what? as a darklina, I loved them

'now that the Darkling is dead' could have phrased that a little differently my dudes that line needed to hold more weight

am I glad that they showed Darkles in this state with his nichevo'ya as a tasty little cliffhanger despite not being entirely true to the source material? maybe but only because Ben Barnes saying 'follow' and the nichevo'ya doing exactly so sent a chill down my spine

well, that's it for now, I'll have to move on I guess, get back to my real life which I'm obviously not ready to do

thank you to whoever actually read these things

I probably should have just made reactions or commentary videos instead but I'm lazy

my tumblr will probably go into inactivity once more as I emerge from my stint in the grishaverse

it was quite short (less than 2 months), considering the length of my other obsessions but it was definitely more intense than the other ones

[nny11writes]

For we will raise you, in safety and peace

Okay, tumblr ate the first attempt at this post, hopefully it doesn’t devour this one as well! Here’s the deal, I can’t seem to figure out a good ending for this fic to save my life and I don’t want it to languish in the pile of unfinished wips. So I’m going to post what I have here on tumblr to at least get it out there somewhere. If anyone has suggestions for an ending I am all ears! HUGE shoutout to @venn364 for helping me figure this fic out to this point and for helping me Horde-ify hush a by baby! 

Rating: Teen (for some cursing) Category: F/F/F Relationship(s): Glitradora (Glimmer/Catra/Adora) Characters:  Glimmer, Catra, Adora Warnings: None apply, this is a fluff fic Additional Tags: Multiple PoVs, fluff, happy fic, happy ending, crushes, idiots in love, dorks in love, young children, Catra deals with the curse of being cute, Adora is a massive dork but what else is new, Glimmer tries to flex on her crushes by singing, lullaby, hush a by baby, post war, post canon Summary: During the post-war reconstruction of Plumeria, Glimmer volunteers herself and voluntells her crushes to take care of the local children to keep them out from under foot. She just, didn’t expect the Horde to require childcare as part of their regular duties and rotation. Or Three Sapphics watch one another interacting with young children and go, “Well guess I’m somehow more in love, cool cool cool.”

Adora and Catra looked at one another and shrugged. “Yeah okay.”

Glimmer was relieved, don’t get her wrong, but that was…not exactly what she’d expected. “Just like that? That simple?”

It wasn’t like she’d expected them to just hop on board with her, even if she’d wanted this to all pan out.

Catra rolled her eyes, a bit too theatrically thanks, before answering, “Well, I mean, sucks to be doing Cadet chores again, but, whatever. Just a buncha kids.”

“I feel like I’m missing something,” Glimmer grumbled, rubbing a hand at her neck. “You’re not trying to act too cool, and you’re not freaking out enough.”

They shared another confused look before Adora spoke up. “I mean, why would I? We’ve done a bunch of rounds at the Infant Pods, more than our fair share in fact.” That last part she said with a pointed look at her oldest friend.

Catra stretched lazily, “I will not apologize.”

“Point is, we can do this. It’s pretty simple over all, especially with you there as a third!” 

Glimmer laughed, “Wait. Hang on, seriously? I’ve never babysat before but you two have?”

“Really? Weird. But, uh, yeah. Everyone in the Horde has some child rearing experience, it’s literally part of your Cadet chores and rotation.”

The galaxy must be on it’s side right now. The Horde, the EVIL Horde, had enforced babysitting chores. “Why?”

Adora shrugged, “Well someone has to make sure they’re clean and fed, doing their homework-”

“Not destroying property or getting in dangerous situations before we could send them to the meat grinder-”

“Keeping them out from underfoot, and getting their energy out too.”

“Also the whole, sometimes babies just die when you don’t, like, hold them enough thing. ...What? Did you think Hordak was at the Pods rocking them to sleep?” Catra laughed.

It certainly was an image. Glimmer giggled as she pictured Hordak overwhelmed by a literal wave of babies. “No, I just never thought about it I guess. You’ll have to teach me.”

They both grinned and Glimmer felt her heart skip a beat. It was, look, don’t judge, it was a really, really good look on them, okay? 

It only took a few minutes to arrive at the temporary nursery Perfuma had set up. While Plumeria was still being cleaned up, she’d wanted a safe place for the children to go, and only needed a few extra hands to help as she pulled her subjects to help redesign their homes. Not that she’d put it like that. Something about syncing their harmonies while reconnecting with their innermost roots? The point was that Glimmer had offered to help mostly to help and partially to avoid another extremely long and boring meeting, but one teleporting queen with no childcare experience was not ideal. Perfuma had been the one to suggest Catra and Adora, seeing as the reconstruction really relied more on Perfuma regrowing the homes in this particular space.

So, they were working with what they had. And apparently that meant Horde soldiers. Experienced Horde soldiers who knew what to do with kids. Weird!

~

When they arrived, it was chaos.

Catra couldn’t help the small grimace she wore, she’d never been fond of IPD. Kids are loud, they don’t have boundaries or respect for other’s boundaries either. She doesn’t know how many times some toddler or Junior Cadet had petted her or pulled her tail and ears with their mysteriously sticky little hands while covered in snot. But she could also say that the one good thing about it was, without fail, some baby was going to think you were the hottest shit ever. And it had done wonders for her low self esteem as a Cadet to know that she’d always collect a gaggle of kids who everyone claimed were impossible to handle doing exactly what she wanted.

It had actually been kind of hilarious out in the Crimson Waste to use some of the tactics she’d learned in the IP against grown gangsters and thugs.

Catra could also say that the very next best thing about it was watching Adora either slowly unravel into a total mess or watching Adora get all the other kids under her thumb. Not that Adora would think of it like that, the goody two shoes, but kids seemed to naturally either love the blonde or desire nothing more than to destroy her. 

Especially at the time, Catra could relate.

She was actually kind of interested to do this now just to see Adora go at it again.

And also Glimmer apparently had no experience with kids and Catra would kill to watch that skiff wreck. No, ugh, she had promised to help hadn’t she? Alright, no watching that skiff wreck unless it happened before she could intervene.

She snickered a little as, just like she used to, Adora gave the attention claps that none of these particular kids would know. Embarrassingly, the old rhythm still made Catra’s back straighten a hair just thanks to the amount of times she’d heard it. 

Adora’s voice rang loud and clear across the little fenced in area, “Atten-shun!”

The kids mostly stopped, but Catra had a feeling that was due to an adult shouting and not out of their training. Did rebellion kids have training? They had to get some kind of education for sure. Huh. Probably should look into that, like, now that it was post war and all.

“Hello, salutations, and greetings!” Adora started her old spiel as if she’d never stopped, putting on her ‘force captain’ voice which was almost a mockery more than anything else. Not that Adora realized that. “I am Adora, this is Catra, and this is Glimmer. Today we will be watching, caring, sharing, and not botching a wonderful day of enrichment with you. Starting now we will do our very best to educate, captivate, and celebrate without need to castigate! It is time to have fun and run, uh, under the sun! Can I get a hoo-ra?”

The part about their newly acquired sun was a nice touch, Catra mental gave Adora extra points for finally having learned to change it on the fly. Catra weakly lifted a fist to mutter ‘hoo-ra’ with a few confused kids. Oof. Rough, but not unexpected. These ankle biters hadn’t been trained to respond promptly and loudly to Horde commands.

Yet it still had about the same effect. The children were already split down the middle looking at Adora like she was a complete idiot or like she was the best thing ever. Soon more of them would think she was the best thing ever than not, kids loved Adora’s canned speech. It always got a few laughs. Kids were easily entertained by someone clearly putting on a show and rhyming. 

Adora put on an over the top look of bewilderment, putting her fists on her hips in some sort of quasi-power pose before asking, “What kind of hoo-ra was that? I want you to shout from deep in your lungs, you won’t sound dumb when it’s all in good fun! Now can I get a HOO-RA?”

Catra gave a slightly more enthusiastic call, and was delighted when Glimmer gamely screamed her head off and then blushed as the kids stared at her, because they had still not shouted. Alright, this had already paid off! Nothing better that watching Glimmer blush like that.

Adora was smiling warmly at the queen, that was always a good look on her. “I SAID HOO-RA!”

This time they managed to get most of the brats on board. A whole army of kids no taller than her waist who were thrilled to scream, a few even did it more than once. It was kind of nostalgic.

“THAT’S what I call a call! I am floored by this horde-” Adora’s eyes widened in panic as she tried to pivot her pre-written speech for a second time. “-o-of wards! Floored! I am floored!”

Aaaand twice was one too many alterations. As much fun as it would be to watch Adora fall apart over it, Catra knew it was mean. And she was trying to, you know, to be less mean.

“Ca-Adora,” wow this was harder than she’d thought. She hadn’t almost called Adora a Cadet in years. “Will be working with any of you who’d like to play a singing and marching game. Line up in front of Adora if you want to join.”

Catra grabbed Glimmer’s hand to pull her forward, which really was only for the benefit of getting to hold Glimmer’s hand. “Anyone who does not want to play a game can join us, we will be taking care of the infants so it’ll be quieter.”

She was not surprised when most of the children flocked to play. There were always a few quiet ones or nervous ones who would hang back, and she was counting on it. Sure enough four kids shuffled their way instead of towards Adora, who was already sorting her little platoon into rank and file, teaching them a quick sound off to learn their names.

Catra motioned between her and Glimmer, “You know our names, what are yours?” The kids shifted awkwardly, looking at one another to start. Catra smirked. “If you don’t want to say I will give you a nickname. For instance, this is now Sparkles.”

Glimmer glared at her, but Catra didn’t stop or let her get a word in edgewise. She pointed at the first kid with glasses, “You can be Specs, short for specification.” A bold faced lie if she’d ever told one. “Stripes, I like your shirt!” Less of a lie. “Flower Power just like Princess Perfuma,” she nodded to the boy with a flower crown. The last kid was nervously shifting hoof to hoof, “And Two Step you got some fancy looking moves.”

“And what do you all think we should call Catra?” Glimmer asked, grinning evilly, as if the kids wouldn’t just suggest kitty or fluffy or whiskers. Maybe tails if someone was feeling creative.

“Kitty!”

Catra chuckled, it was like clockwork. “How about Big Cat? It’s cooler than Kitty!” They nodded gamely to the change. “Cool. Now, does anyone want to help me with the babies? We just need to hold them.”

That was how Catra found herself leaning back against a tree with an infant sleeping on her chest after she’d situated Glimmer and the quartet. All while snickering at some of the concerned looks being shot their way as Adora got the platoon marching and singing. If they weren’t gonna get their asses in gear to manage all the hyper kids, then they could suck it up. Besides, it wasn’t even that intense of a song.

“I think that learning is cool!” The kids echoed after Adora. “Which is why I will stay in school!”

It was schlocky and dorky, if she’d been over there she’d have died of embarrassment already.

Still, Catra couldn’t help but melt a little as Adora exaggerated a high march and then kids behind her did basically whatever they wanted as she marched them around the nursery. It was nice. Even if it made Adora look really dumb, it also made her look happy.  Something Catra hadn’t seen a lot of from her in years. Oh no, she was getting mushy about this now? 

Disgusting. She needed a distraction stat.

“Anyone have a good story?” Catra asked and after a beat of silence, promptly ignored the kids as they started almost talking over each other to tell something about their day or who knows what. Thankfully Glimmer seemed interested even if a little stiff and awkward. Catra was grateful that her fur hid a sudden blush as she watched Glimmer holding a baby and being enthusiastically engaged in the kids' stories. 

Wow. 

She gets away from the Horde for less than a year, and now she’s getting sappy over Sparkles. 

Gross.

~

Adora, of course, had a plan. A good one with details and everything! 

She was using her patented IPPA (thankfully, things had to be going pretty bad for her to resort to Infant Pod Plan B) and so far things had gone well. She’d taught her platoon to march, even got them to make up some rhymes to sing for it (even if she’d had to backtrack after one of the boys said ‘butts’ and everyone then started to just scream sentences with little sense ending with ‘butts’). After a bit of that she got them doing some basic exercise with her. Jumping jacks and running, she’d then start a game of charge and was already wincing in sympathy pains as some of the kids hurled themselves full speed at the enemy team only to fold in half around their linked arms. Still, the point was to give them free reign here to lose their minds and wear out their bodies a little in preparation for a well earned nap or quiet play time.

After making sure that Catra had eyes on her group, Adora left to hunt down water for everyone, and maybe spent a little time making heart eyes across the field.

Catra, despite what she thought, was pretty good with kids. Especially little infants. Between her fluff, heat, and purrs she was an instant baby soother. Adora would know, she was once the only big baby that Catra would soothe the same way. When they’d been younger, Catra used to lose her temper during IPD, but the older they got the more she’d pull it together. There had always been something heartwarming about watching Catra sit down with a kid who was upset and listen to them intently. 

Then there was Glimmer. Gosh, she’d been so nervous going in, but seemed to be quickly becoming a favorite. Because Glimmer always listened to people, no matter their age, and her high energy responses appeared to be winning her fans. The more she integrated with the kids, the more she relaxed too. And there was something absolutely mind blowing about watching her bounce a little baby in her arms, while gasping in genuine delight at something a kid had scribbled into the dirt with a stick.

Adora didn’t even blush, didn’t feel a lick of shame as she quietly got affirmation that yes, girls.

“Ew,” one of the kids snickered after finishing their water, looking right at her before making a face. 

She smiled, shrugging and offered her best, worldly advice. “Girls are great.”

“Ew.” They repeated before giggling and skipping away to their friends.

Whether they eventually agreed with her, liked boys instead, like everyone, or even no one, Adora felt very assured in her assessment of wow girls pretty, so she let it slide.

Later, standing at the barrel and handing out gourds of water or helping kids re-apply their protective balms (the sun was nice, but the sun could apparently burn you which was insane), she did another check. Taking note of any particularly worn out kids to send over to Catra’s group, and was very pleased that no one seemed to be really injured. Man, this was way easier than manhandling Recruits who were about to be Junior Cadets. Maybe she could do this more often? Without all the jockeying for power and praise it was actually fun.

After another thirty minutes whizzed by according to her internal clock, Adora decided it was time to start her platoon’s cool down for water and snacks. Maybe a nap after that. It was all smooth sailing!

Adora managed to make eye contact with Catra, flashing a quick few hand signs they’d made up when they were eight and almost lived in the pods between Adora’s clumsiness and Catra’s random bursts of high energy. Catra nodded, both hands occupied as she bottle fed one of the infants, and Adora almost died. First of cuteness, because Catra was looking so cute! But also from laughter because Glimmer’s tongue was sticking out between her teeth in concentration as she carefully fed another infant. And also because she looked super cute doing it!

What a sight! It took her another minute to realize she was just standing there staring at them with a horrifically soft smile on her face. And Catra was staring back with an equally mortifying soft look. And Glimmer was now looking between them with her own embarrassingly tender look. 

So this is how I die, public affection.

For some reason this was the thing that set her off. Blushing as red as her jacket, Adora pivoted around to call the platoon to get some snacks and more water. Which, considering most of them were either still singing or making up marching songs, took a little bit to organize.

~

The snack and water break had been decently timed, they had just finished burping the last of the babies when Adora called all the kids over. Catra waited with Glimmer until everyone else had something to eat, before mingling as best she could. It was more second nature to keep her head on a swivel, making sure no kids were making a jailbreak and no one was beating someone else’s face in. Although that probably wasn’t a concern on the Rebellion side. Maybe she’d have to rescue a kid from suffocating under a bunch of hugs? 

She shrugged and got a gourd of water, barely finishing it before Two Step tugged at her hand. They’d only gotten more energetic the longer they’d been helping, so she wasn’t even surprised when they asked, "Can I pet your fluff!?"

Catra sighed heavily. This is what she got for wearing a crop top around children. She turned to look at the Two Step and smiled as best she could while also dying inside. If she didn’t let it happen following her own rules, many kids would simply find a way to make it happen anyways. Better to get it out of the way and without sticky hands. Seriously what do kids even do that makes their hands that sticky? "Sure, but only if I can touch your antlers, they look fuzzy."

They almost stabbed her in the stomach with said nubbly antlers in their excitement, apparently oblivious for at least a moment about how fragile they were. Two Step was still wiggling around the way they had the whole afternoon as they rushed to explain, "They are! They’re new and growing in bigger and my dad says that someday they’ll be HUGE like his!"

She ran a few fingers carefully along the warm velvet and nodded, it was softer than she’d actually expected it to be, and it almost seemed like she could feel the blood pumping in them? Or maybe her brain was messing with her? Either way, weird. "Neat. Your turn kiddo."

Catra did her best to not groan in annoyance when the girl simply leaned forward to rub her face on the fluffiest part of her belly.

"You said pet."

"I am petting!"

"Petting is done with your hands, not your face."

"Says who?"

Well shit, had her there. “...alright, well played.”

She glared as the trademark a high pitched whistling sound of cooing alerted her to Glimmer and Adora looking at her with hearts in their eyes and sparkles around their faces. Not literally, but she could picture it. The traitors. She could see Glimmer mouthing the words so cute and groaned. She was not cute! Ugh!

“Okay, I think that’s enough.”

Two Step grumbled but let go. “Thanks!” And with that they skipped away to hang out with the other kids. 

Oh yeah, definitely time to put the kids down for a nap if they could.

~

It had taken longer that Glimmer expected to calm down the kids. A small handful of them went tearing off around the field cackling like loons as Catra easily loped after them on all fours. Which of course resulted in more kids wanting to get chased for some reason, shrieking in delight each time Catra put on a hair more speed to tap their arms or legs. Eventually even they were exhausted and fell panting into the grass for Adora and her to watch while Catra continued herding. It was adorable and Glimmer was never, ever gonna let her live down her afternoon of being a sheep dog. If only Bow or Entrapta were here to take a picture!

Glimmer reluctantly left her post of watching and jeering at ‘Big Cat’ to help Adora get the youngest ones situated and sleeping rolls or blankets laid out. For the ones who refused to take a nap (whether because they weren’t tired or wanted to pretend they weren’t tired), Glimmer asked around to find a few decks of cards for them to use. She wrangled a promise from each group to be quiet so their friends could sleep, and by the time she’d finished that it was tempting to take her own nap.

Adora was efficiently sorting kids into sleeping spaces, and Glimmer smiled a bit at the way she let pairs and groups just pile up together. Having seen the impossible looking ways Adora and Catra could be found tangled up after a nap, she felt pretty confident that they knew what they were doing.

When Catra finally arrived with the last two kids, both of whom she carried under her arms as they giggled, Glimmer was grateful for the chance to relax a little with her friends. She nudged Adora’s side as they passed and whispered, “Maybe afterwards you can use She-Ra? You know, give them a climbing gym or swing them around.”

Adora blinked rapidly before breaking out in a huge grin and did a little over the top flexing before they made their way over to sit with Catra. And for a few minutes they sat in a peaceful silence, enjoying the sounds of the forest and leaning against one another. 

“Pssst,” Stripes rolled over to look at them, making huge puppy dog eyes before asking, “Sing us a lullaby?”

Glimmer’s eyes sparkled as she turned to watch Adora and Catra apparently debate the issue, because hello! Getting to hear them sing lullabies! They rapidly signed back and forth, faces squashing and stretching as they added emphasis to the conversation before they turned and nodded.

“Okay,” Adora said softly, “but you can’t laugh, we only know Horde songs.”

“The Horde had songs?” A little boy asked, popping up from his blanket with a huge smile.

“Yeah we did. To be fair, they’re not uh,” Adora faltered and quickly looked at Catra, which to be fair Glimmer hadn’t considered that the songs they knew might be inappropriate. She quickly decided that she also didn’t really care.

“Adults probably wouldn’t like them here.” Catra supplied with a mischievous grin, apparently knowing that the kids would all be desperate to hear them now.

“Catra!” Adora hissed in what was probably supposed to be a whisper.

“I want to hear!” Glimmer added fuel to the fire and snickered at the look of betrayal on Adora’s face. “What? I do!”

She threw her arms in the air before huffing in her fake annoyed voice, “Fine, I’ll sing a song!”

There was a moment before Adora shakily started to sing both a very familiar tune set to very different lyrics.

Hush-a-bye baby, your crying will cease For we will raise you, in safety and peace If the walls crumble, there’s no need to bawl We’ll burn the villains, princess and all

Glimmer sputtered, accidentally ending it before it even started, not just because the lullaby included a line about burning rebellion citizens to death including princesses. But also because her mother used to sing this to her! “Wait, wait, wait, that’s- that’s not how that song goes!”

“Wha- yes it is!” Adora huffed, arms crossing as she blushed, “I said you couldn’t be mean!”

“First of all, you said I couldn’t laugh and I didn’t! Secondly,” Glimmer cleared her throat to sing her version. She’d always loved singing, even took lessons when she was younger before deciding she’d rather do it for fun. But what was the point of being able to sing flawlessly under pressure if not to flex on your crushes?

Rock-a-bye baby, thy cradle is green; Father's a nobleman, mother's a queen; And Buckley’s a washer, who wears a gold ring; And Tambour’s a drummer, who drums for the king.

Not that she got any further than Adora did before being interrupted as well.

“Ew, it’s all princessy!” Catra jeered playfully getting a few giggles from the kids.

“Uh, yeah, my mom sang it to me when I was a baby!”

“Gross. Ours is better!”

Adora laughed nervously, apparently unsure what to do as their play fight went down in front of a room full of impressionable children. Which, really, was her own fault for not expecting it.

Glimmer puffed up and leaned forward, tapping Catra on the nose just to be a brat before issuing the challenge she knew would get results. “Prove it!”

Ah, the good old stand by of “prove it”, as equally effective as a double dog dare!

So Catra, looking genuinely affronted, took a breath and sang in a wholly and unfairly good voice.

Hush-a-bye baby, your crying will cease For we will raise you, in safety and peace If the walls crumble, there’s no need to bawl We’ll burn the villains, princess and all

Baby is drowsing, valiant and brave With Hordak’s power, disorder we’ll stave Though cadet’s sleeping, her dreams we all share For order and harmony’s, our duty to bear

Hush-a-bye baby, do not you fear Never mind, baby, your squad is right here Strong little fingers, but eyes must shut tight Stay sound asleep now, until morning’s light

“People sang to you as babies about Hordak’s power and burning people?” Glimmer asked, both perplexed at the Horde-ified version and slightly disturbed. No wonder some of their soldiers bought the Evil Horde’s propaganda if this was what they were taught from the cradle!

“Glimmer, I love you, and I say this with as much respect as I can,” Catra said without an ounce of respect in her body or soul, “We grew up in the Fright Zone under the eyes of commanding officers of the Evil Horde. What did you think they sang to us about?”

Well shit, had her there.

[skyvaikers]

look at me [ captain rex ]

summary: he doubts his abilities, but, she is always there to help him realize he’s stronger than he thinks.

warnings: none! just fluff!

requested by: @000ayfh

prompt: “i’m proud of you.”

whether or not any of the clones wanted to admit it, the war took a toll on them. they were children, well, mentally. any normal child wouldn’t be fighting a war, especially one like this. the jedi — for the most part — were good to the clones. they cared for them, showing them that they were more than just objects to be used in a war. they even started to give each other names, making them more personable.

each clone had a personality, which wasn’t what the kaminoans originally had planned. they didn’t want these clones to have emotions, some would say. but, clearly the further they stretched jango’s DNA, the more personality they’d get out of these men.

arguably one of the best men of the GAR was captain rex of the 501st under general anakin skywalker. he was fearless and impeccably smart. he was also kind, harboring a soft heart for his brothers and another, one with the name of y/n.

y/n was a jedi; he would have never thought he and a jedi would be together. but she was one of the kindest people he had met. she wore her heart on her sleeve, as the saying goes. she cared for people more than herself. she’d get up in the middle of the night to get someone some food or change someone’s dressing on a wound. she was dedicated, and that same trait showed through in their relationship.

it was late, and rex couldn’t sleep. he laid awake in the barracks, his eyes staring up at the ceiling. now and then he would get emotional. his chest would get heavy, his eyes would water and burn. he felt the weight of the war on his shoulders like he was the one who needed to end it. he blinked several times and sat up, his knees cracking as he slid his legs over the side of his cot. he sat there a moment, his hands gripping the cot, his eyes at his feet. he stood up; he needed a walk.

y/n, for some reason, was walking around the temple. she was still dressed in her robes with a datapad in her hand. she’d claim she was doing work, but all of the other jedi were either asleep, or they were also working. she wasn’t, working was just an excuse. it was dark though, the light coming from the moon cast a glow on the carpet of the temple, making the place look haunted. arguably, it was. haunted by the nightmares the jedi and soldiers had alike.

y/n stopped by the mess hall, thinking grabbing some water would help her relax. she knew she needed sleep, she just didn’t feel tired. she walked in, failing to see the man who was sitting at the table, a cup of water in front of him and a tired look in his eye. when she did notice him, she stopped in her tracks.

“rex?” she whispered, though her voice sounded loud enough to wake up the whole planet. the man picked up his head to see y/n, the woman he loved.

“y/n,” he sighed with a tired smile. he relaxed his posture, picking up his head and straightening himself out. he was still a soldier, even though y/n had told him that to her, he was more than that.

“what’re you doing up?” she asked as she walked over to him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“the same could be asked of you,” he countered. he wasn’t wrong; she needed sleep too. she chuckled and lowered her head.

“i guess you’re right,” she shrugged as she picked up her eyes to look at him again. there was something else in his eyes. there was a tiredness to them, but a different kind of tiredness. his soul was tired, not just his body. she sat down and held a small frown, one that caught the captain off guard.

“y/n?”

“rex, what’s wrong?” she asked him, leaning her arms on the table.

“nothing,” he lied. he was horrible at lying and everyone knew that. he wished that general skywalker would teach him how to lie, but then again, what good would that do since he’s a soldier?

“you’re lying,” she chuckled. the soft expression on her face was enough to make any man’s face light up. to rex, it was comfort. he trusted y/n with his life and with his emotions; he wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable.

there was a silence between them. rex looked down at his hands, which were folded in his lap. he wasn’t going to cry, no, absolutely not.

“am i...am i a good soldier?” he asked without looking up. the question caught her off guard, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to answer his question.

“what’s your definition of ‘a good soldier?’” she inquired, her voice a cold press to a sore. he sniffled, taking in a shaky breath.

“never lies, always does what they’re told,” he started, “isn’t vulnerable,” he added quietly as if he was ashamed of it.

“rex, look at me,” she told him, and he did so. what he saw was the face of a woman who knew what he was going through. he saw that she understood, that she wasn’t going to let him be alone.

“you, then, are not a good soldier.” she started, which, wasn’t a good starter at all. “you need to be human, and the kaminoans bred you to be emotionless machines that did whatever they were told. yes, you follow orders. yes, you don’t lie to your superiors, other than a few minutes ago. but being vulnerable doesn’t make you weak. it makes you stronger. it tells the world that you’re human.” she explained, reaching her hands across the table, asking for his. he placed his hands in hers and she closed her hands around them.

“i can’t be in this war anymore,” he broke. he felt like he was a child crying to his mother. he felt the walls he had built up for so long start to crumble. he felt truly vulnerable. she moved to sit beside him and hug him, bringing him closer to her. she didn’t say anything, just held him there. he felt the hot tears stream down his cheeks and his bottom lip quiver. he thought about it fives saw him like this. the soldier would never let it go.

after a moment, he picked his head up and wiped his eyes, exhaling. y/n cupped his cheek and smiled at him.

“i’m proud of you, love. i’m here with you all the time.” she hummed as she gave him a quick kiss on the lips. pulling away, rex smiled. a genuine, relieved smile.

“i love you,” he told her, making her laugh.

“i love you more,”

______

wow wow wow. i haven’t written in AGES. so, here’s some fluff for the main man i whipped up right quick. i’m so so sorry this took me two centuries. the other requests will be up soon, well, hopefully. college is rough y’all, but i’m making it haha. thank you guys so so much for requesting stuff! remember you all are loved so very much and i’m always open to talk!

[freshtomatoesddd]

Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap chp. 6

    “Whoa, what’s that?” Ty Lee’s eyes sparkled in wonder.

    “It’s called a train,” Azula said.

Ty Lee stepped towards the machine. It sat on a bed of rails which stretched far past the horizon, and the ‘train’ itself was a wonder, made out of several carts with the Fire Nation emblem on the front cart. The brunette recalled Azula stating that it was not only capable of transporting equipment and resources, but passengers as well. And as her eyes scanned the metal machine, Ty Lee was able to wrap her head around such a claim.

     “Are you going to let her keep ogling the thing?” Mai asked.

The brunette turned around. Ashy eyes met with the tawny brown of her friend’s, though her gaze had been narrowed down on Ty Lee, a displeased look replacing her usual blasé expression. Azula on the other hand had her eyes fixed onto the brunette. She wondered what to do under Azula’s stare, her mind questioned how it was that she hadn’t grown used to the princess’s routine looks. All she could come up with was a simple wave.

Mai groaned. “Can we just get on already?”

      “Very well,” Azula said.

Ty Lee then boarded the train, along with her friends and about five dozen soldiers. Though, she hadn’t a clue where they were headed. Last she remembered, they were to visit a state near Ba Sing Se, but the princess hadn’t specified which one. She leaned on the fine leather of her seat, pleased that their cart had been made with the same materials as Azula’s office. From the dark varnish of the metal floors, to the cabinets around them which held a number of scrolls, and the dark brown oak of their table. Such a theme rang familiar with her, gave off a sort of comfort she loved.

    “Hey, where are we going anyway?” Ty Lee queried.

     “Kerkaw. We’ll be there by daybreak,” Azula said, the rustling of paper between her fingers.

She turned around to look out the window. There, it seemed that the outside world sped past them. It made Ty Lee wonder if they were the ones moving, or if their environment had taken up to running faster than she imagined it possible. She knew that it was feasible for the ground to move, whether that be from earth quakes or the gradual movement from within the earth. She questioned how many thousand years it would take for the dirt under them to be moving at such speed, similar to what she was experiencing.

An interesting conundrum. She asked herself if human beings were able to survive long enough to see such a day happen, though she knew it to be ‘improbable,’ as Azula would say. Then, she asked if it were possible for the Fire Nation to create faster trains, ones which could zoom past Ba Sing Se till Kerkaw in only an hour. That would be nice.

     “Why are we going there?” Mai asked in a rather dull voice.

Ty Lee took her eyes off the window, her buzzing mind now calmed as Mai’s question brought her back to the present. Her friend looked bored as always.

Azula’s eyes were glued to a text. “My father has assigned me there; he wrote that I was to eliminate a local warlord in Chao.”

Mai shrugged. “Then why are we going to Kerkaw? And why do you have to deal with him?”

    “Mai, you shouldn’t question the Fire Lord’s orders,” Azula said.

    “I’m not, I’m just saying that the Fire Lord could’ve made one of his generals do it. You’re already governing Ba Sing Se, and he wants you to do beat up some warlord on top of that?”

Azula quirked up a brow. “Do you, perhaps, feel inconvenienced?”

     “I do.” Mai’s expression lay blank.

The princess smirked. “Well, I’m sorry that you won’t be able to read any of my dear brother’s letters till we get back. Truly, I pity the both of you.”

    “Whatever,” Mai said.

Ty Lee jumped in. “Hey, come on guys, calm down. And besides, isn’t this cool? I mean, we’re on a train.”

Mai looked at her. “What about it?”

The brunette leaned in as she grabbed Mai’s arms. “Are you kidding me? We’re going a million kilometers an hour, I never even knew this was possible.”

    “You’ve never been on a train before?” Mai asked, retracting from Ty Lee’s grasp.

Ty Lee furrowed her brows. “No, have you?”

Mai shrugged. “A couple of times. But I got to say, the constant smog and depressing interior isn’t for me.”

The brunette gasped. “What—Really? But the trains in Ba Sing Se aren’t like that.”

    “No, the ones in the mainland.”

    “They have trains in the mainland now?”

Mai nodded.

    “Wow, that’s so cool. Why didn’t you tell me?” Ty Lee asked.

     “I thought we’d get back sooner,” Mai’s eyes veered off to the side, “Then you’ll see all the stuff you missed since you joined the circus.”

Azula joined in. “Even if you have been on a train before, none would compare in terms of speed.”

Mai rolled her eyes. “What does it matter? They’re all the same anyway.”

     “I wouldn’t say that,” Azula flipped to another page, “I personally oversaw the creation of this one.”

Again, Ty Lee gasped. “How did you get it to run super-fast?”

Azula looked up for a brief moment. “I wouldn’t know. I told the engineers that they had better make a faster model, and so they did.”

Though disappointed at such a simple answer, Ty Lee figured that even with a detailed reply, she wouldn’t be able to make sense of it. But still, the fact that they were able to sit inside such a wonder of engineering, she couldn’t help but to continue staring out the window. Ty Lee wondered what the trains in the mainland were like, and if they truly couldn’t compete in terms of speed, as well as power.

As the ride went on, Ty Lee struck up conversation with Mai. Though she noted that the latter was reluctant to join in, as most all the topics Mai found to be uninteresting. They spoke of the train, as Ty Lee couldn’t stop fawning over how advanced and ‘cool’ it was. Mai commented on how backwards the circus must be, to the point that they never bothered to use a train as means of transport. Ty Lee laughed as she recalled how she had to pack her tent every time they would re-locate, a statement which left Mai speechless.

    “How do you even pack a tent?” she asked.

Ty Lee placed a hand on her chin. “Well, it’s not that hard, especially since mine wasn’t that big.”

      “How did you live like that for three years?”

Ty Lee scratched the back of her head, she hummed. “I never really thought about it, honestly. I was happy, and that’s all that mattered to me.”

    “So, you’re fine with anything as long as it makes you happy?”

The brunette hummed once more. “Well, I wouldn’t say anything, but yeah, basically.”

Mai pursed her lips. “Right.”

Their conversation moved on to another topic, one which concerned what interesting happenings have been going on in their lives. And keeping with such a theme, Ty Lee had one burning question to ask her friend. She leaned in, a grin stuck onto her face, one which granted a rather concerned look from Mai. Though, the brunette couldn’t help that she was curios, any sane person with a working pair of eye balls would want to prove their suspicions correct.

    “You still haven’t told me about Zuko,” Ty Lee’s words came out in a frantic haste, each syllable laced with intrigue.

Mai rolled her eyes. “Why do you care?”

Ty Lee’s grin persisted. “I think you know why.”

The girl sighed, stoking the burning interest within Ty Lee’s psyche. Whereas before she held a mere sense of curiosity, now she was rivetted, compelled to find out more of her friend’s love life. Of course, she knew that it wasn’t quite nice to put one’s nose where it didn’t belong. But Ty Lee figured that they were close enough to speak of such things with each other, without a need for shame at that. And if Mai required a little shove to fess up, Ty Lee was more than happy to oblige.

      “Come on, come on, come on. Tell me, tell me, I know you want to tell me,” Ty Lee repeated those words like a chant, one which could grant her the wish she so desired.

     “Fine. What do you want to know?” Mai growled.

Ty Lee clasped her hands together as she made incomprehensible noises. Her feet stomped the metal floor multiple times as her mind raced to search for what to say, and which topic she’d delve into. Amidst her squealing, Ty Lee managed to cherry pick a subject. One so influential, that to not learn its truth would rob her of the fulfilling life she so desperately desired. That being Mai and Zuko’s relationship status.

    “Are you and Zuko together yet?” she asked through bated breath.

Mai took in a breath. “Yes, we are. There, I told you, now stop talking.”

Again, Ty Lee squealed in excitement. A giddiness came from her stomach and made its way through her entire body, coursing through her veins like some type of drug she’s never heard of. Like a child after receiving candy, she couldn’t be bothered to lay still. Her feet continued to stomp on the floor, her arms fidgeting on her side, grin molded onto the girls now sore cheeks. She leaned in, eyes twinkled as she was obligated to learn more. She needed to, she had to.

      “And? How is it like?” she asked.

      “How should I know? We haven’t even met in person.”

Ty Lee pouted. “Aw, come on, Mai. You’ve been writing, right? Can you at least tell me about that?”

Mai sighed. “This is the last question.”

The brunette nodded with a fervent enthusiasm. “Yes, totally. Just tell me already, please, I’m dying.”

Again, Mai sighed. “We’ve been talking about what to do when I get back. But whenever I give him an idea, he always tells me to visit some tea shop instead.”

      “Why a tea shop?” Ty Lee queried.

      “Didn’t I tell you that was the last question?”

Before Ty Lee could say anything, a sharp voice cut through their conversation.

      “No, do tell, why would he want the both of you to visit a tea shop?” Azula asked.

Mai’s eyes widened for a split second, taken aback by the sudden intrusion. “I don’t know, he keeps telling me that the tea there reminded him of his uncle or something.”

The princess quirked up a brow. “I see. Well, that certainly does sound interesting.”

    “Seriously? What’s so fun about going to a tea shop anyways? You just sit down, drink tea and leave,” Mai said in a slight huff.

Ty Lee quirked up a brow. Her friend was right, there wasn’t much to do in a tea shop. However, she figured that the purpose of such an establishment was not only limited to selling tea.

     “I don’t think that’s it,” she said, “Yeah sure, you drink and stuff. But since Zuko and you will be going on a date, you’ll also talk. And I mean, that can be fun too.”

Mai rolled her eyes, though Ty Lee was reluctant to believe that her friend brushed off the idea with such ease.

And so, their conversation went on, with minimal to no interruptions from Azula. They spoke of what Ty Lee should do once they reached the mainland, the brunette approximating how much progress she’s yet to see in the three years she was gone. Mai shrugged, noting that though much has changed in terms of technological development and city planning, the people were still the same.

After a few more minutes of conversation, Mai expressed her desire to leave for another cart. She commented on how dull the inside looked, as if someone had taken the interior planning of an office and slathered it all over their cart. Ty Lee questioned how that was a bad thing, adding that it must be some type of innovation, at least in terms of train interior design.

     “Ty Lee, it’s a train. Train’s aren’t supposed to look like offices,” Mai said.

Ty Lee shrugged. “Why not?”

      “Whatever, my point is this cart is boring.”

Azula cut in. “And do you expect the other carts to be exciting? Compared to the others, our cart is far superior. It even has comfortable seating and an efficient cooling unit.”

Mai pointed towards the cabinet next to Azula. “Oh please, how is that superior?”

The princess quirked up a brow. “This cabinet is filled with many interesting scrolls to read, perfect for killing time till we reach Kerkaw.”

The girl blinked a few times. “Right, and what sort of interesting scrolls are inside that cabinet?”

      “That depends, what do you like to read?” Azula asked.

      “I don’t like reading,” the girl said, a blank look on her face.

Azula scoffed. “Well, too bad. I suppose you’ll have to find something else to do till we get there.”

      “I will.” Mai turned around and left.

With nobody but the two of them, Ty Lee inched closer to the princess, who’s eyes meticulously scanned through the text. She came so close that no space was between them, the princess paying no mind. Ty Lee pursed her lips as she wondered what Azula was reading, and if it were something far beyond her realm of comprehension. Though, even if it were, she wouldn’t mind having the princess explain at length the many intricacies of the text.

She asked Azula what it was that had captured her attention for much of the ride. The princess eyes attention on the paper; she spoke in a low voice. “Something.”

Ty Lee frowned. She slid closer once more, to snatch a glimpse of what Azula had been reading. Much to her surprise, she found that the text bore a story she was quite familiar with. One which told of a passionate summer between star-crossed lovers, and one that had piqued her interest so that it became Ty Lee’s favorite scroll to read. That is to say, if she had even bothered to read any scrolls for the past few months.

     “I thought you didn’t like romance,” she said.

The princess’s attention didn’t stray. “I don’t.”

Ty Lee furrowed her brows. “So, why are you reading that then?”

     “It was a whim,” Azula said.

Ty Lee quirked up a brow. “Right, totally. Where did you even get that?”

     “I bought it in Ba Sing Se. Though the subject matter itself taboo, there is no legal ban. And even if there was, I doubt they would’ve been able to enforce it,” Azula said.

Ty Lee tilted her head, bewildered by the princess’s sudden change of heart. “Yeah, and I’m supposed to believe that you don’t hate romance all of a sudden?”

     “What else do you want me to tell you?” Azula asked, “I’ve given you the truth, yet you don’t believe me. Do you, perhaps, want me to lie?”

The brunette rested her head on Azula’s shoulder, her thin fingers ran down her lover’s back. “I never said that.”

      “My point stands. If you don’t believe the truth, what do you want me to do?” Azula asked.

Ty Lee paused for a moment as her mind came up with the right words to form her next few sentences. As she remained silent, her hand continued to run up and down Azula’s back. She hummed, both from her lover’s warmth and through force of habit. Her psyche raced past the many possible questions and statements for her to say, Ty Lee at one point lost on how the conversation even started. By the end, she settled for a simple reply.

     “I mean. No, I don’t want that. It’s just, I kinda find it hard to believe that you can tolerate it now,” she said.

Azula closed the text, Ty Lee eyes wandered up as they were met with a fierce stare. The princess leaned in, their face mere inches apart.

      “Would you like to know?” The princess asked.

Ty Lee nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

Read the rest of it here ;) https://archiveofourown.org/works/28172334/chapters/70425006

[toloveawarlord]

Ch. 2

Pairing: Greer x Lancelot

Tagging: @plumpblueberry ​ @thetwinkims @sakura-1819 @ikemen-lover159 ​

A/N: Wow it’s been a hot minute since I wrote the first chapter of this. I meant for this chapter to introduce her to Edgar and Zero as well but then her and Lance had some alone time and I decided to end it on a fluffy note. Next chapter, there will be angst XD

[25 Days of Christmas 2020 Voting]

“Excuse the intrusion.”

The three maids assisting the young woman in dressing and straightening up the room, gave a respectful bow and made themselves scarce. Greer easily recognized him. After all, her brother complained about him in every letter he wrote her when he still served in the army. “Good morning, Jonah.”

“Yes, good morning, Mrs. Kingsley.” The way he spoke sounded forced. He wasn’t pleased with the secrecy of the arrangement and it likely bothered him that she bore the Atlas name before taking Lancelot’s.

“There’s no need for formalities. I’d prefer to be called Greer.” She offered him a warm smile, fiddling with the ring awkwardly snug around her finger.

Jonah gave a curt nod, dutifully doing as asked of him. “I’d like to escort you to breakfast in the dining hall.” He had plenty of questions that he needed answers to. King Lancelot had refused to speak of it, only giving orders to make sure Greer was treated well.

“That would be lovely. Thank you.”

Greer had few memories of Jonah, only seeing the man from afar. Their family’s cordial and she was sure that she’d spoken to him a handful of times, if only to say hello. She did remember that he could always be found with Lancelot, his admiration going all the way back to childhood.

From the upstairs window, the training yard below held a unit of soldiers headed by one of the other Chosen Thirteen. The woman paused, drawn in by the uniformity and focus. “I’ve never seen it so closely.” Her brother preferred for her to be kept at a distance.

“As the King of Hearts wife, you should familiarize yourself with certain subjects, including the army.” Jonah observed her fascinated features. How many women had he walked down this hall for audiences with his King? All had complained about the headquarters or pretended that they weren’t in the presence of soldiers.

Greer didn’t find this place frightening.

“Yes, I agree. I have much to study.” Her golden eyes turned from the training yard to the Queen of Hearts, finding his amber ones. “Would you recommend some documents and books? I would greatly appreciate any assistance. I know so little about this part of Red Territory.”

Jonah was certainly surprised. She genuinely wished to rise to her new position, not something that most high-born women would agree to. “Of course. Whatever you need, I shall arrange for it.” 

Honestly, she was nothing like he had been imagining. Sitting across from her in the dining hall, Jonah could find little fault in her manners and etiquette, although it was taught to all who bore a Chosen Thirteen family name. She gracefully answered each of his questions without becoming defensive or annoyed, as most did.

“Why did you marry King Lancelot?”

The undertone of the question really asking: why did your family push for this arrangement? For power? For higher status?

One that Greer knew she’d be answering time and time again. Most of the highest families in Red Territory wanted a clear line of succession into the army, so there wasn’t too much intermingling of the Chosen Thirteen’s families in the marriage aspect. Alliances were one thing but claims to certain seats in the army were expected to be clear.

And as such, an Atlas marrying a Kingsley had caused an uproar, especially with their seat forfeited to a man that had no pedigree.

Greer set her teacup onto the saucer without a sound, quietly considering the question before speaking. “Wouldn’t it be lovely to say that we married for love?” She posed the question with a weak smile. “But it’s never so easy.”

The Queen of Hearts waited in silence. He hadn’t gotten a satisfactory answer from Lancelot, instead being told that the reason was irrelevant. The younger Atlas nothing like he’d imagined. Not at all like her elder brother. Jonah might even admit that he found her a good fit for his King, but it depended on this very important question.

“I don’t believe that I can give an answer that will suffice. Lancelot needed a bride to calm the fighting in his family, and I needed a husband for the same reason. It’s as simple and complicated as that.” Greer paused, squeezing her hands together in her lap.

“Then I am correct to assume that your family wants a claim to the King of Hearts position.”

The young Atlas nearly nodded. It was the truth, one that wasn’t hard to figure out. “What my family wants and what I want are not in alignment. Lancelot is aware, as well. It’s quite selfish, but I said yes to the marriage as a means to escape the Atlas family. Lancelot has promised to keep me safe.” Or at least, that is what Greer wanted to believe. The influence of her family would not be easily escaped. Even at the headquarters, they would find a way to get to her.

They wanted a child, a way to extort the Kingsley family for power and status.

Greer simply wanted to be happy, something almost unattainable in the world she resided in. Something that she had yet to experience. Mousse had escaped. He found purpose in being a diplomat. The family had shunned him, blaming him for shaming the Atlas name.

She couldn’t admit that her family still had their claws deep in her. Even though she knew how they would view her and Lancelot’s child, Greer thought she would be thrilled to be a mother. And yet, how much of that want was her own?

“I see.” Jonah observed her for a moment longer. There was no ill intent on her part. He would personally look into her family and do whatever necessary to protect his King and his new wife. He cast a glance at the clock and rose silently from his seat. “If you require anything, please ask and it will be done.”

The kitchen staff swiftly removed all the dishes from the table. Their curious gaze flickering to the woman, all having heard the rumors of Lancelot’s bride. They scurried back to the kitchen to gossip, but their whispers weren’t quite low enough to evade her ears.

I heard the Atlas family practically has been begging for her to be married for years now.

The family may be disgraced but I feel bad for the poor girl having to marry into the Kingsley family. Everyone knows that King Lancelot is cold-hearted. I bet she’s miserable.

I’ll wager he gets rid of her before the end of the month.

Don’t say that! You’ll get in trouble with the head chef!

But it’s the truth. He’ll send her away and some tragic accident will befall her--

“Excuse me. May I have another cup of tea?”

All three heads swiveled toward her voice with varying degrees of shock and embarrassment, having been caught. Jumbled apologies spilled from their mouths as they bowed respectfully. “Of course, just one moment-”

“I’m surprised you’d speak so poorly of the King of Hearts.” Greer watched them visibly shrink at her words. It wouldn’t do to have rumors spreading about a weak wife. It would only cause discourse and put her in danger. Their silence prompted her to continue. “It would be wise to consider more carefully before so casually spreading false information.”

The three were moving around the kitchen stiffly, unable to look directly at her.

“I do appreciate the worry for my wellbeing.”  She twisted their words with expertise expected of her status in the territory. Although she would not hold quite as much power as any man, there was still a healthy amount of respect to be given to the wives. Greer would not be needlessly cruel, but she wouldn’t allow there to be rumors of her painted as weak and pitiful or rumors of her husband treating her poorly. “However, there is no evidence of any ill treatment, and you’ll do away with such speech whether in the presence of us or in secret.”

Putting to rest this distance between the couples would be best.

“I’ll hear nothing else of this. Our marriage is not subject to your petty grievances. You will be respectful of both King Lancelot and I. Am I understood?”  Greer had no reason to raise her voice. Her words stood on their own without the volume.

Many talked about how Lancelot was cold and aloof. The women who were rejected by him would gripe endlessly at cordial parties but would attempt it again and again. Staff that had served in the army spoke in a similar fashion. As if they had any idea what his position took from him, what he must do in order to protect and serve Red Territory.

Much of which Greer had little knowledge of but vowed to learn so that she could better support him. Their public image had to be maintained, otherwise they became targets to tear down in order for others to gain power.

The last thing they needed was more enemies.

“Here you are, Lady Greer. We sincerely apologize for our carelessness.”

Satisfied with their remorse, she accepted the cup and went on her way. The moment the dining hall door closed behind her, she leaned back against it. A soft sigh passed her lips. This would become a regular occurrence, she was sure. At least she’d had the practice of explaining her brother’s departure from the army to those who criticized.

The layout of the building just as Jonah described to her. Soldiers passing her in the hall gave curious looks. It was tiring, but they had to courtesy to whisper after she’d gone by. They wouldn’t dare blaspheme their King. 

Greer found the office with little trouble. The cracked door easy to slip through and she found Lancelot at the desk, alone, with a stack of documents. Clear blue eyes rose when she placed the cup of warm tea in an empty spot.

“You don’t need to trouble yourself with bringing me tea.”

“I wanted to.”

Lancelot set his quill down, plucking the cup from the saucer to take a sip. “I heard you had trouble with a few of the kitchen staff but handled it well.” He nearly laughed at the way her brow knitted in confusion.

“How did you already hear about that? It was only moments ago.” Greer couldn’t call seeing anyone leave the office that would have knowledge of that. The staff themselves would never admit to their blunder, lest they lose their job.

“There’s little that happens here that I don’t know about. You shouldn’t bother yourself with such nonsense as idle gossip. I’m in no need of protection.” He’d grown quite used to the rumors surrounding him. His wife would be subject to the same treatment, and he’d known that before agreeing to a marriage.

She brushed a strand of brown hair away from her face with a gentle smile. “Perhaps not, but it’s us now, together. The more we allow people to pry and insinuate, the more problems that are going to arise. I was simply putting out the sparks to a potential fire.”

Rumors about either one affected the other.

Lancelot could honestly say that he hadn’t expected her to react in the way that she did. There were two kinds of women in high society that he’d come across. The ones who wielded their power above others to entertain themselves, and the quiet ones who found their identity solely in their husband, choosing to blindly follow.

Greer was neither of them.

And he quite liked that about her.

“Would you like to join me for a walk?” He’d surprised himself by asking that.  His better judgement failing him. It would be safer to keep her at a distance. This arrangement only for show, to satiate the wolves for the time being. But, after witnessing her display through the mirror, Lancelot desired a little more time with her.

The air outside brisk even in the late morning. It held little bite, but it was enough to cause the young woman to shiver. Fall had descended on Cradle, turning the green into brilliant shades of orange, red, and yellow. The sun shining down on them aided in a little warmth.

“You seem to have made quite the impression on Jonah, as well. It’s only your first day here.” His Queen of Hearts shuffling around the topic in their meeting, praising her and calling her well-suited for the position she now held. He hadn’t expected her to do so well.

Greer lightly laughed, tugging her white cloak a little tighter. “Jonah is exactly as I imagined he’d be. Mousse wrote about him often. He’s loyal and strict but he cares deeply for his country and for you.” Golden eyes turned upward to meet his, a gentle smile on her lips.

“Yes, he does. Approval from him is a difficult task and yet you received it with one conversation.” The leaves crunched beneath his boots. Of all the proposals he’d received, Greer remained the one that wouldn’t leave his mind. She was kind and fair, smart but willing to expand her knowledge, and today he’d learned that she also stood up for herself and him. She continued to surprise him at every turn.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that he approves of me. Just that I’m a few steps above my brother in his eyes. It’s going to take time for the people to accept me and accept us. We’ll have to work quite hard to gain public support.”

The King of Hearts hummed in agreement. Even if their marriage was one of necessity, there were still hurdles to overcome. Their lives would be picked apart. They’d be forced to prove their affection and commitment to each other, especially since the wedding happened in private and so quickly. 

He was brought out of his thoughts when she took his hand in both of hers.

“We both want the best for Red Territory, and for now, I think that’s enough to make this work. I meant what I said at the altar. I’ll do everything within my power to help achieve the peace in Cradle that you’re striving for.” Playing the dutiful wife had been her families plan, but Greer wanted to be more than that. She would be whatever he needed.

Lancelot didn’t doubt her sincerity, not the first time she said it nor now. “Yes, I’m quite sure you’re willing, but I’m not going to risk putting you in harm’s way. There are going to be times that I cannot allow you to assist.” The defiance in her golden eyes was unusual for a new bride, but he didn’t dislike it. “However, there are matters of my family that need to be settled and you will help me quell the fighting.”

Her shoulders relaxed and a satisfied smile tugged at her lips. “Of course.”

Greer didn’t know why he’d done it. Was it the soldiers watching as the patrolled the grounds, or the staff peeking through the windows? It was likely for show. To prove to the onlookers that they were, at least on the outside, a committed married couple.

And yet, it didn’t feel so empty. His warm lips against hers, a tender kiss that drove away the cold from her body and replaced it with fire. His arm around her waist to hold her body against his, giving a sense of safety and comfort. He lingered, giving her heart a little too much to hold onto.

She didn’t love him, nor did he love her, but…

Greer imagined she could get addicted to this.

[oceanera12]

“Are you sure you’re in the right Cabin?”

Chatting with my sister (again) and we were talking about Nico going from this sweet innocent child who was obsessed with fun card games to the literal son of Hades rocking the black t-shirt and skull ring look. Like, wow. Way to step into that role with little to no pressure (not necessarily bad, just interesting).

And that got us thinking more than it should have about the Olympians and the attributes their kids get from them. And also the attributes they DON’T get from them.

What if Child of “________”, but everyone thinks they’ve been claimed by the wrong parent because there is no way in Tartarus this kid is related to that Olympian.

[And we did the big three in Greek form just to keep it simple (and Percy needs a half-blood sibling, everyone else already has one, fight me on this) Also feel free to replace the names, we just used these as fillers because just saying “Adjective” child was getting confusing.]

First up: “Brandon” the son of Zeus. (Aka. Anxiety child)

First off: I’m thinking the kid is no more than ten years old (more like nine, in all honesty)

This kid is afraid of heights. No joke. He refuses to even climb a step stool because the idea of being off the ground terrifies him to no end.

He’s shy as heck and talks very softly. When he first shows up to camp everyone is convinced he’s the son of some minor god (maybe the god of sleep) because “What son? We can’t hear you. Speak up!” *mumbles under his breath a little louder*

Hates being the center of attention (the exact opposite of his Dad) and just wants to make it through the day without having an anxiety attack.

Fights with a knife (and when we say fight, we mean “hold the thing up, look for openings, take them, but otherwise hide in the background and let Angry child and Sunshine child take care of it”)

He’s just scared of a lot of things, okay? (I’m thinking Neville from Harry Potter) He tries to fight and do what he’s supposed to in training and just falls flat on his face.

But when it comes to battle tactics? Oh, this boy has got some ideas. It doesn’t come as naturally as it would to Ares and Athena kids, but he’s great to have in war councils around the ping-pong table (yes, the nine year old is good at chess, so sue me)

Also, since he’s always so quiet, when he actually does speak up EVERYONE pays attention.

When he panics/freaks out/has an anxiety attack he just sits down on the ground and rests his head in between his knees and tries to breathe. Most of the time that helps but sometimes it just gets worse and worse and that was how he figured out he could summon lightning bolts from the sky (no one was injured but now he’s terrified of accidently hitting someone so he’ll run off somewhere quiet when he needs to breathe)

The one time camp has seen him angry was when Pearl was hunted by some bullies and came back bruised and bloody. Everyone agrees they never speak of that time and to never have a repeat of that time.

Doesn’t really have an opinion on his half-siblings (both Jason and Thalia scared the heck out of him the first time they meet and the two take that as a sign to give the kid space). He doesn’t mind spending time around them, but he’d rather be with the “Big Three Mess-Ups”

Next: “Pearl” the daughter of Poseidon (Aka. Angry child)

This girl has zero chill, even for a thirteen year old who is going through that angry teenager phase. 

And I mean ZERO. Ten minutes in camp and she’s already challenged three people to a duel and been in two fist fights (which she won one and lost the other)

The Ares cabin was already making room for her (because who else could it be?) and suddenly there’s a blue trident hanging over her head at meal time and Percy ends up choking on his blue food

She doesn’t like the ocean. Or water. Or sand. Or outdoors. She can swim and climb and all that stuff, she’d just rather stay inside. All the time. It’s a problem.

And when she is outside she likes to climb a tree (because it’s away from people). When the nymphs start complaining she storms off (quite literally) and hides at the bottom of the lake for a week. That becomes her solitude spot, much to Brandon’s and Violet’s annoyance.

Will carry a book everywhere. And it’s not because she loves to read (she hates reading because of her dyslexia). She just uses the book to ignore everyone around her and get people to not talk to her. Sometimes the book is upside down and she doesn’t notice (and will get mad when people point it out)

The one thing she definitely got from her Dad is just pure strength. This gal can deck most everyone in camp even if she stands at a mesley five feet. Also, she’s got pretty good control on the whole “water controlling thing” which is nice (especially when it comes to slapping some manners into a bunch of bratty Hermes kids who thought it was a good idea to plant dead flowers outside of Violet’s cabin and blame her for spreading death around)

She hates horses and this includes pegusi (mainly because they talk too much) 

The one thing she claims to not “hate” is her fellow “Big Three Mess-Ups” (although secretly she really loves sappy soap operas, a secret that is never shared with anyone)

Fights with a spear, weirdly enough and isn’t bad at archery. Prefers fighting with weapons then with “water abilities”

She doesn’t like Percy for no particular reason. She just avoids him most of the time and when they do talk it’s mostly short awkward conversations. (“Sooo... How’s camp?” “Fine.” “Good.” “Great.” “Good.”) It’s hard to hate Tyson so she just avoids him as much as possible.

And last: “Violet” the daughter of Hades (Aka. Sunshine child)

She wears bright sunny colors, loves sunshine and rainbows and is basically the happiest fifteen year old you will ever meet.

And it’s not that forced happiness that’s creepy and everyone is like “Uh, this kid needs therapy” she is actually happy with her life and loves camp.

Also wears flowers in her hair. They start out the day cheerful and bright but by the end of the day, they are wilted and dead as can be. Everyone has learned not to bring up the dead flowers (she gets angry because DANG IT, SHE DOESN’T MEAN TO KILL THEM SO QUICKLY)

When everyone met her, they thought she was Demeter’s kid. 

When Hades’s claimed her, everyone thought she was Persephone’s and Hades was just covering his wife’s butt or something.

And then someone thought it was a good idea to pick on Brandon and the everyone remembers the screams from the Ares cabin as an army of skeleton soldiers chased them across camp because “You don’t tick off the Mom friend” (Chiron had to get her to call them off because “It’s been two hours, they are going to drop from exhaustion”)

The Ares cabin nicknamed her “Violent” after that and all are convinced she is haunting their cabin at night by having skeletons outside their window and stare in at them (which she is, but no one can prove it sooo...)

Also she’s claustrophobic so don’t stick her in a small space unless you want skeletons to start popping out of the ground.

She is very friendly and outgoing and gets along with pretty much everyone (As long as you’re not a bully). She’s basically the ultimate Mom Friend.

Doesn’t really fight with weapons and most would think she’s a pacifist. But in reality she just summons the army of skeletons to do the fighting for her. When she does actually have to fight it’s just her swinging around some kind of staff (maybe made of bone?).

Violet LOVES her half-siblings and wants to be friends with them very very badly. Nico gets a little freaked out by her and tries to run in the other direction but Hazel thinks she’s pretty chill. The two of them get along fine enough.

Random things the three do together:

These three are best friends/the new trio/“The Big Three Mess-Ups”/whatever you want to call them and will fight anyone for any of them.

“Anyone want to trade parents?” *All three raise their hands without looking at one another*

Sleep over’s in one another’s cabins because let’s be honest: their siblings are never around (if ever) and it’s lonely. They switch cabins every week to change the scenery. Violet loves it (”Sleepover with friends!”), Brandon is very appreciative of it (”I don’t like being alone.”) and Pearl pretends she hates it and puts up with it, but is secretly very grateful for it.

They also eat with one another at meal times and will do group projects together because everyone is a little terrified to try.

Once, for capture the flag, it was the three of them vs the whole camp (Pearl made a bet with the Hermes cabin that the three of them could beat all of them. The Hermes cabin just took it to a completely different level). Violet guarded the flag with her army of skeletons while Pearl and Brandon sneaked around. They ended up winning, but barely (it was the entire camp, seriously)

That’s all I really got at the moment but I’ve fallen in love with these three and want to see them get into some trouble.

[1234-waystodie]

FAKE NEWS - THERE IS NO DOUBT THE PALESTINIAN WITH IN THAT AREA

How does fake news look? Look at those two things - an article and a video that so called telling the truth about the violence Israel is doing to the Palestinian and people in Gaza: VIDEO: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mZJJONhvj0U&ab_channel=OnePathNetwork ARTICLE: https://www.hrw.org/news/2018/06/13/israel-apparent-war-crimes-gaza The article was sent to me by a user on Tumbler in a desiccation of accusing my country of killing innocent civilians. I have read the article and when I told this user it was biased, untrue, she decided she had nothing to say to me and closed the desiccation. It’s amazing how the world insist to see things as black or white - the “week” has to be right and the “strong” are the bad guys.  In those two things I added to the post you can see the fake media that is well made by Hamas and Palestinian with the support of CNN and other channels in work. May I say - they are doing a damn good job at making Israel as the bad guys and I have to say - if I was not a part of this country I may have been thinking that all of those are true and I may have been of the Palestine side. Fortunately for me, I’m not. I know better and yes - I do know better. You look at the article and the video and you think - wow, yes, they are so poor and sad and that’s it. There is no way to look at this differently.  MY ANSWER TO THE VIDEO: Well, there is. This is what all the hate comments don’t understand.  Let’s look at the video. In the long video this person claim that Israelis are throwing people in Gaza out of their windows and I find it kind of weird considering Hamas is doing it since THERE ARE NO FRICKING ISRAELIS IN GAZA FOR OVER TEN YEARS.  And for the violence he “claims” there is upon his family, sweaty watch this video because that’s EXACTLY what does “innocent” people are doing and then spreading lies that Israelis or the IDF just “out of nowhere” killed or injured some “ innocent ” Palestine: HOW TO AVOID ISRAELI BRUTALITY  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a5w_7D70bbA&ab_channel=RogatkaProductionsRogatkaProductions And also, maybe, don’t take your child to war zones on purpose in order for Hamas or your media to get injurers.  MY ANSWER TO THE ARTICLE: Now you may ask me “but Maya! How can you read this article and be on Israel side? Those people did nothing but protesting! Well you may hate me for this but as a former IDF soldier I do know a thing or two about the orders those soldiers get on the borders and let me tell you this - it is not shoot first ask question later.  So what did happens there?  As I said in the paragraph above me: for years now the Palestinian take their kids to dangerous places in order for them to get either killed or injurer so they could film it and post it on social media. Just look at this video of a father deliberately sends his child to throw rockets at Israeli soldiers so they would hurt him: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FWhwLUw5stI&ab_channel=myinternetfavsmyinternetfavs So what did happens on the border? Most likely the Palestinian who got shot were either armed with explosive device or crossed the border, it happens just a week ago in the border of Lebanese when 3 man crossed the border to Israel - one of them got shot and killed: https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2021/5/14/lebanese-man-killed-by-israeli-troops-on-border And don’t ever believe does protests are “peaceful” - they either throw rocks,  Molotov cocktail or e burning tire. The little girl that was there was not there by chance - they hoped and prayed that something like this would happen so when shots will be fire she would get in the middle of the crossfire and then they could post it as war crimes.  You can think what you want but believe me that no Israeli cittizen in the IDF - which are kids at the age of 18-20 most likely wakes up one day and says “mm, you know what I want to do today? Shot a kid that can be my little brother/sister.” I feel sorry for the civilians who have nothing to do with the fake news or the once that are used as human shield, like the little girl in the article, but yes - Israel has the right to defend itself and it’s not just a phrase.