#me: Where Did That Pear Come From And What Are The Implications Of It On Naboo Culture And Society.

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You're Drunk

Alrighty this chapter of Dating App pretty much wrote itself! I really enjoyed writing it so I hope you all enjoy reading it. There is a several week timeskip and this is also where the timeline fuckery happens. Pease ignore everything about why Carisi is around so early cause I kinda of forgot that I wanted to rewrite some scenes from the earlier seasons before Carisi is in it, but like...I love Carisi and I have other plans so.....Timey Whimey wibbley wobbley stuff begins.

Also pretty sure this is my longest chapter think it is like 6000 words.

Let me know if there is anything in particular you would like to see in this series. Like an episode of the show with her put in it or just something random. Also let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for this.

Warnings: Drinking, talk of sex, sexual implications, teasing, drunk conversations. I think that is it, if I missed something let me know.

Master List

Prompt List

Chapter List: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10

Tag list: @pear-1206

“That is the fourth time you have checked your phone in the past two hours,” Lily pouted as she placed drinks on the table, Shannon and Courtney trailing behind her each carrying a cocktail and a shot. The four of you had made plans to go out for drinks the next time your schedules all aligned. Shannon and Courtney desperately wanted all the details on you and Rafael. The last time you able to catch up it hadn’t been the time to discuss such details. You friends were gossips but they thankfully understood that there was a time and place for such conversations, like drinking at a bar.

“I know, I’m sorry,” you quickly shoved your phone back into your pocket. “Rafael had a tough day in court, Liv said the team was taking him out for drinks since we already had these plans.”

“Aw, and you’re worried about him,” Shannon cooed, she was a little further gone than the rest of the group, she was smaller and had a lower tolerance. “When do we get to meet him?”  

“Soon, I promise,” you smiled. “I just-”

“Wanna keep all that deliciousness for yourself?” Courtney asked wiggling her eyebrows.

“Did she tell you two about how he got on his knees to take off her shoes?” Lily grinned. The other two both gasped, nearly shouting no as they turned to you expectantly.

“Lily!” you groaned, giggling a little. You were going to tell them. Just after a few more drinks.

“Take your shot and tell us!” Shannon bounced. “Come on.” You all picked up the mystery shot Lily had brought over, you thought it would be best to never know what was in the things she brought. A little like the cocktails Lily made when you all last got drunk together and you ended up downloading the dating app. You shook your head and knocked back the shot coughing a little when the strong burst of alcohol hit your throat.

“Alright, geeze,” you nodded, sipping your cocktail. The other three leaned in close, even Lily who you had told before, there were benefits to working with your best friend. You kept the details limited, not telling them everything but you painted the scene perfectly. You all finished your drinks and ordered another during the time it took for you to fill in your friends on not only your first time but near about everything that happened since.

“Damn girl!” Shannon sighed, pushing her long red hair over a shoulder. “You lucked out with this man. I don’t think my first time ended in spectacular orgasms.”

“I mean, mine did but that was just because I was with a woman for my first time,” Courtney grinned. “And when I finally slept with a man, I was assertive in what pleased me but still wasn’t great.”

“Yeah, it took maybe my third boyfriend before I started being able to orgasm with a man,” Lily agreed.

“Oh,” you tilted your head biting your lip. “I’m never letting him go then. I mean orgasms are great by myself but with Rafi, they’re something else.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shannon playfully shoved you. “Keep bragging.”

“As if you three can talk,” you wagged your finger at them. “I had to hear all about your sexual exploits. I’m totally bragging about how he made me orgasms several times before he fucked me.”

The four of you burst into a fit of giggles before you all cheered and took another round of shots and moved onto other topics of conversation throughout the night. It had been a few hours since the night started, more rounds of shots had happened and bowls of fries, pizzas and other table snacks had been consumed to at least attempt to soak up some of the drinks. Your phone buzzed against the table, the screen lighting up with a picture of Rafael that you had taken when he wasn’t looking. His contact’s name visible for the world to see ‘Sexy Lawyer’, you hadn’t changed it since he put his number in it.

“Ooh, it’s mister magical fingers!” Courtney oohed as you picked it up.

“Hush,” you waved for your friends to be silent. “Hey babe.”

“…Chica,” Rafael sounded a little confused before he chuckled a little. “Are you still with your friends?”

“Ask him if he has any single friends that are as good in bed as he is,” Shannon tugged on your arm.

“Shh!” Lily whispered. “You’ll make her turn on her librarian voice. It’s scary.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Rafael’s amused voice called your attention again.

“Yep, are you? Ooh!” your attention taken again. “Is Liv there? And Amanda? Do they wanna come and join us girls?”

“No invite for me? I see how it is,” Rafael feigned offense.

“We’re having girl talk and a girl’s night,” you waved your hand around. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Oh Chica,” Rafael’s soothing voice cooed through the phone at you. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“Duh, we’ve been drinking for…a few hours by now,” you rolled your eyes.

“Wait, the whole team can come!” Lily interrupted. “That way you can meet the rest of his friends, we can meet him and his friends. Win-win.”

“Ooh yes!” Shannon agreed, with Courtney nodding beside her. You could hear Rafael chuckling in the background, it was slightly muffled and you could hear other voices, one that sounded a little like Liv.

“Rafi,” you whined, pouting a little when he didn’t respond straight away. “Rafi…are you coming?” You forgot you hadn’t actually asked if he and the team wanted to join you and your friends but after Lily’s suggestion it sounded perfect and all you wanted was to cuddle with Rafael. Your friends sniggered, taking your words in a much different context to what you had meant them to be.  

“Now I’m invited, am I?” Rafael’s voice finally answered you. “I don’t know, you didn’t seem keen at first.”

“Rafi, don’t tease,” you continued to pout. “Will you please come and join us? Liv and the team as well?”

“Ask nicely, Chica,” Rafael was enjoying this far too much. He didn’t realise that when you were drunk you had very little filter.

“Oh please, please, Rafi,” you lowered your voice only slightly, your tone slipping into the tone you used when begging Rafael to let you cum. “Please come and join me. I miss you. I need you. To be here. With me, with your arms wrapped around me.”

Your three friends stared at you, mouths open and eyes wide in shock. They had never heard you speak with such a tone before or say such things before, especially in public.

“Baby,” Rafael groaned. “You can not speak to me like that when I am near my friends.”

“But you said to ask nicely,” you pointed out. “I’ll keep doing it unless you say you’re all coming.” There was some commotion on his side of the phone before you could hear him speaking in Spanish.

“Hey, it’s Liv,” Liv’s voice replaced the Spanish, her tone definitely amused.

“Liv!” you cheered perking right up at the sound of her voice. In the several weeks since you had meet her, the two of you had met up for coffee and Liv had been over for dinner a few more times when schedules aligned. During this time the two of you had bonded quickly, and you really enjoyed being around the older woman.

“We’re all heading your way, you’re still at the same bar?” Liv assured you. “And thank you for giving me so much more material for teasing Rafa with.”

“Yep, we haven’t moved except to get more drinks,” you assured her. “And you are most welcome.”

You both ended the call, well, you’re pretty sure Rafael wanted to speak to you more but Liv hung up the phone before he could get it back. You grinned at your friends.

“They’re on their way,” you nodded to the cheers of your friends.

--

“Oh my, he is even better in person,” Lily murmured causing everyone to turn towards the entrance of the bar just in time to see Rafael and five other people walk in. You perked up, almost bouncing in your seat as you waved your hand to get their attention.

“Rafi, Liv!” you called drawing their attention to your table ignoring the other patrons giving you looks. All that mattered was that Rafael made eye contact with you and sent you that impossibly soft smile of his, as his entire face softened and his whole body seemed to relax. Liv was right beside him and was able to see the complete change in him as he saw you and she laughed lightly at how excited you were to see him as well. Nearly bouncing in your seat as you grinned at him.

“She is adorable,” Amanda whispered.

“Just wait until you see them together,” Liv whispered back. “Cutest bloody couple ever.”

“Does this mean we will get to try her food now?” Finn asked.

“Of course that’s your concern,” Nick rolled his eyes.

“Man, I got my priorities right,” Finn shrugged. “The food Liv and Rafael bring into the office smells divine.”

Rafael moved right to your side, sliding his arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your temple as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, almost falling but Rafael kept you on the seat by pressing himself as close to you as possible. Since you and your friends were sitting on stools you were roughly the same height as Rafael which made it easier to snuggle into him and press kisses along his neck before pulling away to make grabby hands at Liv.

“Liv, hi!” you smiled as she came around to your other side to hug you.

“Hey, there, you all been drinking water tonight yeah?” she asked looking over you and your friends.

“Of course,” Courtney was making near heart eyes at Liv and you couldn’t blame her, that woman was gorgeous.

“Guys this is Rafael, and this is Olivia,” you introduced the only two people you could. “Everyone, this is Lily, Courtney and Shannon.” You then turned pointedly to Rafael, who just narrowed his eyes at you in slight confusion. “Rafi, introductions.” You pouted lightly removing your arms from around Liv to wrap them around your man again, trying your best to look up at him from under your lashes.

“Alright, alright Chica,” he chuckled gently stroking your cheek. “This is Nick, Amanda, Carisi and Finn. This is Lily, and her friends.”

You smiled at him pressing a kiss to his cheek before turned to look at the other members of his friend group who were all sitting around the table, Liv next to you closest to Shannon, Nick and Amanda sitting in the two free seats next to Lily, Finn sitting at the other end of the table and Carisi sitting on the free seat next to Courtney. And Rafael was happy standing next to you with his arm wrapped around your waist.

“We need drinks,” Lily said. “Finn, help a girl out.” Finn just shrugged and followed the woman to the bar. You couldn’t help but smile at your bossy friend as she led Finn to the bar smiling up at him.

“Be careful with what Lily brings back,” Courtney warned. “She always buys potent cocktails.”

“But yummy!” Shannon assured.

“I’ll get us some water,” Liv laughed. “I daresay we’re all gonna need them. And maybe some more food.”

“Ooh, yes more food!” you nodded. “I’m definitely hungry again.”

“We’ve had like two pizzas and two bowls of fries and a bowl of wings,” Courtney quickly listed off on her hands. “How are you still hungry?”

“Don’t know but I am,” you pouted. “So…more food?”

“Noted, when you get drunk you get hungry,” Rafael smiled. “I’ll come with you, to help carry the glasses. I’ll be back, love.”

You narrowed your eyes briefly but at the promise of them ordering more food you released your hold on him.

“Come back quickly, please,” you begged. Rafael just chuckled kissing your cheek, checking the table number before following after Liv who immediately started talking about how adorable you were when drunk. You looked back to the table. “It’s so nice to finally meet all of you. Including Finn.”

“Same here,” Carisis smiled.

“Hmm, we had been all curious about the woman who was able to get Barba to smile,” Amanda added. “He only tends to smile when he is about to demolish the defence and that is a completely different smile.”

“Ah, yes I know which smile you are talking about,” you giggled. “I rather like it.” Though the reason for that smile was probably a little different when you saw it, the others were a little confused by the sudden red that coated your cheeks and went down to your throat.

Amanda, Nick and Carisi all shared a look at that information, filing it away like good detectives to tease the Counsellor with later. Although in the first five seconds of seeing you and Rafael interact, they had a large number of things they could tease him about. Including what seemed to be an uncontrollable desire to always be in contact with you, and the never-before-seen softness to his features.  

“So, any of you single?” Shannon asked giggly.

“Shannon,” you groaned. “Do try to be a little subtle sweetie.”

“What like you were?” she challenged raising an eyebrow. “Begging Rafael to “come”.”

“Oh, shush, that’s completely different,”

“It’s really not,”

“Is so,”

“Girls,” Lily interrupted returning with Finn who was looking incredibly confused by the current back and forth. “Really?”

The detectives were trying so hard to restrain themselves from laughing but it was a challenge that is for sure. Amanda leaned towards Finn to fill him in, causing him to bark out a laugh before trying but failing to cover it with a cough. Lily and Finn quickly handed out a round of shots and placed two jugs of some cocktail in the middle of the table and passed around glasses.

“Finn, I was just saying it is good to finally meet all of you!” you drew the attention back to the fact that you hadn’t met any of the detectives but Liv yet and tried to subtly inform Shannon and the others that you didn’t need them to make things awkward by hitting on them within five seconds. “I have heard quite a bit about you all, from Rafi.”

“He talks about us?” Nick asked, scoffing lightly. “I bet it’s mostly complaining.”

“Well, a little but mostly not,” you shrugged.

“Seriously?” Carisi needed to be sure he heard you correctly.

“Well, yeah, I doubt he holds back with his complaints at work,” you nodded, causing the others to laugh at how right you are.

“Good to see everyone is getting along,” Liv interrupted, returning with a bottle of water and some glasses, Rafael right behind her with another bottle of water and more glasses. “Definitely a good idea to get two bottles of water.”

“I think everyone may regret their choices in the morning,” Rafael quipped.

“I won’t!” you called making grabby hands at Rafael the moment he was in your sight. He smiled indulgently at you as he moved back to your side, his arm finding its way back around your waist, rolling his eyes a little as you sighed happily as you snuggled into to him.

“Oh, you probably will,” Liv said eying the shots that sat in-front of everyone. “Do I want to know what this is?”

“Nope,” Lily grinned picking hers up. “Now come on everyone, bottoms up.”

You and your friends eagerly picked them up, the detectives and Rafael however eyed it a little suspiciously, even Finn, who hadn’t quite heard what Lily had ordered. You turned your pleading eyes to Rafael, nodding towards the shot. He sighed, deeply, already regretting this decision as he picked up his shot. Grinning in triumph you turned to Liv, giving her the same look. Rafael watched in interest as his best friend tried very hard to ignore you, but he was able to watch as Liv’s eyes kept shifting to you and then away before her face scrunched up and she also reached for the shot glass. She shot Rafael a look, but he only raised an eyebrow.

“Now you know what I mean,” he told her.

“What?” you asked looking between the two.

“Well, who would have thought anyone would be able to get Liv to do anything,” Finn grinned. The rest of the detectives nodding in agreement, stunned over what they had just witnessed. The girls shared a look of confusion but their drunk minds quickly forgot about the odd moment.

“Come on,” Courtney begged, her hand lightly grabbed Carisi’s arm before looking towards Nick and Amanda.

“Alright fine,” Carisi laughed picking up the glass looking to the others pleading with his eyes to join him.

“I will make it an order,” Liv added turning on her Sergeant voice. The other three all resigned themselves to whatever was in the shot glasses as they picked them up.

“Bottoms up!” Shannon, Courtney, Lily and you all cheered, tapping the glasses on the table before throwing them back. The detectives and Rafael hesitated one second before copying them.

“Oh, god what is that?” Carisi asked face screwing up as the alcohol hit his tongue.

“I don’t think I want to know,” Nick coughed, reaching for the water that Liv had poured for everyone.

“Sook,” Lily giggled teasingly.

“Can I have some water?” you whispered to Rafael your hand playing with the tie he was wearing.

“Of course, Carino,” Rafael reached for his glass of water handing it to you with a kiss to your temple not noticing the phone in Amanda’s hand that was angled towards the couple. Liv raised an eyebrow at the blonde who merely shrugged, already sending the image to Liv and to Rafael. She figured the couple didn’t have a lot of candid photos of them. Smiling happily at Rafael, you handed him back the glass turning your attention back to the table.

“What are in the jugs?” Amanda asked a little wearily as she reached for one.

“I ordered those,” Finn assured her.

“Somehow I’m not overly assured by that,” she muttered but poured herself a glass regardless and sniffed at it. “Oh, is this just margheritas?”

“Yeah, they didn’t have a lot of options for jugs,” Finn shrugged.

“Good choice!” Shannon eagerly reached for the other jug to pour herself a glass. “Can I pour one for anyone else?”

Courtney pushed her glass towards Shannon with her fingers nodding as she did. “Obviously, I haven’t got work tomorrow.”

“Lucky,” Lily muttered but poured herself one anyway.

“Lily, do I have work tomorrow?” you asked turning to your best friend your brows furrowed as you tried to remember your schedule. Lily squinted at you, mouth opening a little as she tried to remember as well.  

“No, sweetheart you do not,” Rafael answered instead. “You have tomorrow and the following day off to recover from tonight.”

“Aw, he knows her schedule!” Amanda cooed leaning into to Nick.

“Of course I do,” Rafael said drily. “Why would I not?”

“Good point,” Amanda muttered sipping on her drink.

“Ooh! What food did you order?” you asked turning to Liv, one hand leaving the grip it had on Rafael’s suspenders to tug on the end of Liv’s blazer.

“We got more chips and some wings,” Liv informed you grabbing hold of hand and squeezing it gently, finding it difficult to stop the coo that wanted to escape. She found you adorable when she met you the first time, but apparently drunk you put that adorableness to shame.

“Yummy!” you wiggled in excitement at the prospect of food before a frown took over your face as you looked between Rafael and Liv.

“What’s wrong?” Nick caught sight of your frown first.

“Carino?” Rafael quickly turned to you, his free hand coming up to tilt your chin towards him.

“I want to cuddle with you but I don’t want to let go of Liv’s hand,” you whispered, shaking the hand that Liv still had hold of, tightening it in case Liv tried to let go of your hand.

“Darling, how drunk are you right now?” Rafael asked with a fond look, his thumb stroking your pouting lips.  

“Hm…a lot drunker than I was when I downloaded the dating app we met on,” you answered honestly. “Like way more, that shot definitely threw me over the edge.”

“I thought so,” he chuckled. “Want some more water?”

“Yes…but that means I have to let go of either you or Liv,” you pondered looking between Liv and him, lips pursed as you tried to make a decision. “Oh, I know, you can help me!” you grinned, ecstatic that you had solved the problem.

“Surely, he won’t, right?” Finn asked. He was slightly regretting joining but at the sometime not, he was getting a lot of material to tease not only Rafael but also Olivia. Plus, your friends weren’t too bad and he had been wanting to meet you.

“I don’t know, Barba seems very different with her,” Carisi answered shrugging his shoulders.

“Very different,” Finn agreed.

“I-,” Rafael was about to say no, but upon looking at you he once again found he could not say no to you. “Alright, fine.”

“No, way,” Nick muttered as Rafael did exactly that.

“I’ve known her for years,” Lily whispered to Nick. “Trust me, she is adorable and once someone gets to know her it is very hard to say no to her. If you were in his place, you would do the same thing.”

“I doubt it,” Nick turned to Lily raising an eyebrow in doubt.

“Oh, you poor deluded man,” Lily flicked his arm. “We’ll see, it even worked on Olivia, who is not dating her. One day you will have that look directed at you and you will eat your own words.”

The waiter came with the food interrupting anyone from being able to comment further on the fact that Rafael Barba, the man who didn’t relent even with victims, relented under a single look. Rafael set the glass down, pouring more into it, as he wanted to get you to drink as much water as possible otherwise tomorrow morning will be horrible for you. Though…he was a little curious how you would be with a hangover.

“Yay, food!” you cheered letting go of both Liv and Rafael.

“Thought you didn’t want to let go of us?” Liv asked waving her now free hand. Your eyes narrowed as you watched her hand, sure that you were meant to be doing something with it.

“Don’t confuse my poor Chica,” Rafael scolded. “Her poor brain probably can’t handle too much at once.”

“I must have missed the part where my boyfriend suddenly became a comedian,” you muttered crossing your arms. “Stay at your day job.”

“Now see, I was waiting for this,” Finn grinned folding his arms.

The rest of the table who were watching this like it was their dinner entertainment, tried not to nod in agreement with Finn. They dished out the food onto the plates that were placed on the table along with the food. Those who were nearly done with their margherita’s pouring themselves another glass. The detectives hadn’t had too much to drink before they joined you and your friends, so they still were no were near the level you four where at so they were able to hold in their amusement. Your friends however, were getting even further along where unable to hide theirs, the giggling muffled a little by their hands.

“For my girlfriend to insult me?”

“For Rafi to be mean?”

The two of you asked at the same time turning your eyes onto Finn who seemed a little shocked by the response.

“Creepy,” Shannon whispered.

“Extremely,” Carisi agreed. “They’ve only been going out what like two or three months? And they’re already in sync like that?”

“Actually, it’s closer to four months,” you shot at them before going back to the food that Rafael had put on a plate in-front of you. “Being precise with timelines is important, as a detective you should know that.”

“Oh, I see it now,” Amanda said around a mouthful of chicken wings.

“We all see it,” Nick agreed. Pouring another glass of the margherita, noticing that the two jugs were getting empty fast. He glanced at his watch, a little surprised by the amount of time that had passed.

“What do they see?” you leaned towards Liv confused.

“Why you and Rafi get along so well,” Liv whispered back.

“Oh, you mean apart from the fact that the man is gorgeous, charming, sarcastic and incredibly intelligent?” you tilted your head to side. “Oh, and good in bed.” There was a round of near choking around the table as they heard your comment, being drunk you thought you were whispering but you in fact were not.

“Alright, you are definitely cut off,” Rafael pushed the glass of the cocktail away from you. “Eat some more food.”

“Don’t be pushy,” you whined. “And give me my margherita back.”

“Eat some more food and drink some more water and then I will,” he commanded pushing your plate towards you before picking up his own margherita. You leaned towards him wrapping your arms around his neck so your mouth was right next to his ear.

“Or, give me back my margherita and when we go home, I’ll get on my knees and suck your cock the minute we get through the door,” you whispered seductively. “And then, I’ll strip naked for you, put on your vest and ride you.” You moved away a little to allow him to turn his head to look at you.

You felt Rafael’s hand on your waist tighten and you had the pleasure of seeing the red creep up his neck as his eyes started to burn. He swallowed, the knuckles on his other hand turned white as he gripped his drink. He was very grateful that you still had enough thought to whisper that in his ear rather than saying it loud enough for the rest of the table to hear.

“Chica,” he warned eyes taking in your cheeky grin. “That’s out of line.”

“Hm, we’re not in a court of law my dear,” you giggled. “So, counsellor, do you accept the terms?”

“No,” Rafael stated, smirking as your mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Really?” you were shocked. “But…I want my margherita.”

“Then drink some water and eat,” Rafael raised his eyebrow at the water he pushed towards you. “And you will.”

“Fine,” you huffed pulling your arms from his neck. “Then I won’t suck your dick.”

“…please tell me I wasn’t the only one who heard that?” Finn muttered.

“We all heard it,” Liv muttered eyes wide and looking away.

“You are naughty!” Shannon giggled leaning as far as she could to swat at your arm. “Is that what you whispered to him?”

You nodded holding the glass of water eyeing it suspiciously, cheeks puffed out as you sulked. Olivia lifted her drink out of the way of Shannon’s flailing limb, trying very hard to restrain herself as she watched the marid of expressions that passed over Rafael’s face. Shock, horror and that last one was a little unclear, but oddly enough she could still make out the fondness that he has for you in his eyes as he watched you giggle at your friend but still sulk over not getting your margherita.

“This has got to be one of the most entertaining nights I’ve had in the longest of times,” Amanda giggled. “And Barba the look on your face was priceless.”

“I hate all of you,” he answered, drowning the last of his margherita before grabbing your glass and drinking that as well.

“Hey!” you squeaked. “That’s mine.”

“You hadn’t finished your water or your food,” he groused.

“You’re not getting sex,” you glared at him.

“We’ll see,” he smirked at you, slowly licking his lips, your lips parted as you felt warmth slowly build, you had to squeeze you legs together as your eyes glazed over.

“Is he?” Nick asked, not even wanting to finish that sentence.

“That is the sign for me to go,” Finn decided standing up, a look of near horror on his face. His eyes squinted as he looked between Rafael and you. “It was good to meet all of you. Maybe next time a little less alcohol.”

“Agreed,” everyone agreed.

“I think I’ll also call it a night,” Amanda smiled. “I should go and walk Frannie before it gets too much later. Are you girls fine to get home?”

“Aw, that is so sweet!” Lily leaned into Amanda smiling up at her. “I’ll be fine, I’ve gotten home when I have been way more drunk.”

“If you’re sure?” Amanda asked.

“Mhm, though I can’t say the same thing for Courtney or Shannon,” Lily nodded towards the two other girls who were leaning against each other and giggling.

“True,” Amanda agreed, eyeing them both.

“I’ll help with them,” Lily patted her arm. “Shannon lives on the way to mine so I can take her in an uber with me. Courtney however, lives in the opposite direction.”

“I can take her,” Amanda offered.

“Ooh I get to ride with the pretty detective?” Courtney asked bouncing in her seat. “It’s my lucky day.”

“I wanna ride with the pretty detective,” Shannon muttered.

“You ride with me,” Lily pointed at her. “And you better say you’re lucky with that.”

“Duh,” Shannon rolled her eyes. “But I get to ride with a pretty librarian all the time.”

“I am both offended and fine with that,” Lily shrugged as she quickly drowned the rest of her margherita. “Is anyone else heading my way? Can take two more in my uber.”

“I’ll take you up on that,” Finn nodded.

“Carisi, you coming with?” Amanda asked, a particular look in her eye as she looked at the Italian.

“Sure, that okay with you Courtney?” Carisi asked, not wanting to tag along if she wasn’t okay with it.

“Two pretty detectives?” Courtney asked. “Getting better and better.”

“I think that’s a yes,” Nick muttered. “I’ll be fine on my own. Liv, you good getting home?”

“I’ll be fine, I live in the opposite direction of all of you,” Liv smiled. Everyone turned to Rafael and you, both currently still arguing over him drinking your drink. “I think they’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, I don’t think it’ll be a good idea to share a ride with them,” Nick grinned. “It might get a little awkward.”

“Hey, lovebirds,” Carisi teased. “You two ready to go home?”

“Not with him,” you muttered, turning your pleading eyes to Liv.

“Oh, no,” Liv laughed reaching out to squeeze your cheek. “You are going with Rafi. Maybe you can tease him to feel bad about drinking your alcohol.”

“Ooh, could idea!” you nodded, trying to climb off your seat. “Come on bub.”

“I’ll never forgive this betrayal, Liv,” Rafael promised as he kept hold of your waist keeping you from stumbling. “She’s really good at teasing. It should be a crime.”

“Oops,” Liv grinned. “Come on.”

The group made it’s way out of the bar, Liv, Lily and Amanda helping Shannon and Courtney. They were surprising stable, only a little unsteady after sitting down for so long and drinking as much as they had. Nick, Carisi and Finn were all at the back keeping an eye on everyone else, they didn’t even realise that they had done it until Liv glanced over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow as the group waited for their Ubers together.

“What?” Nick asked crossing his arms. “You know me, you can’t even pretend to be surprised by this.”

“Alright, that’s actually fair,” Liv rolled her eyes.

“Rafi, the world is spinning,” you whined, looking up at Rafael, your hands were once again holding onto his suspenders.  

“Aw, my poor Chica,” Rafael cooed lightly brushing the hair out of your eyes before pulling out his phone to order an Uber, his other hand still held you tightly against his side. “Let’s get you home, my apartment or yours?”

“Yours, please,” you grinned up at him, all annoyance over him stealing your drink gone. “I sleep better at yours now.” You nuzzled your face back into his neck, sighing happily as his scent surrounded you.

Rafael felt his heart melt at that, the two of you rarely slept away from the other these days. The first time you had been in his bed when he got back from a late night in the office it had been surreal, he had to stop for a moment and appreciate that fact that you wanted to be there when he got back. It had happened after he got an emergency call, the two of you had been having dinner at his and you were prepared to head back to your apartment when he left but he offered for you to stay at his without even really thinking about it, all he knew was that he wanted to come back to his apartment with you still there.

“Looks like our ride is here,” Amanda motioned towards the car that just pulled up pulling everyone out of their conversations. Carisi moved forward ready to help with Courtney. “Tonight, has been…entertaining and enlightening.”

“All of this has been off the record,” Rafael warned looking pointedly at all the detectives.

“Sure, counsellor,” Carisi agreed, a boyish grin on his face. “Next time we need a warrant and you don’t want to do it I’ll just call y/n up and she can get you to do it.”

“Nope, that is an abuse of my power,” you claimed not lifting your head from Rafael’s neck. “Only use it when absolutely necessary.”

“Noted,” Finn said.

“Alright, Shannon, Finn our ride is also here,” Lily waved towards another car that pulled up. “It was lovely to meet all of you, should do this again sometime.”

“That would be nice,” Liv agreed.

“Thirded!” you called. “I loved meeting the rest of Rafi’s friends!”

“And we definitely enjoyed meeting you,” Nick assured you, chuckling a little.

A round of goodbyes followed as everyone managed to get into their Ubers with minimal issues. Assuring everyone that they would message when each member got home safe and sound. The more sober members of the group thoroughly entertained by the drunker members attempt to converse with the drivers before getting sleepy.

--

“Alright, Carino, here we are,” Rafael huffed as he gently set you down on his bed, hands hovering just in case you started to sway a bit too much but when you stayed upright, he moved around his room, gathering some clothes for you to sleep in. A little selfishly he grabbed one of his shirts for you, along with a pair of your panties that you kept here. “Alright, let’s get you changed, that make up off and some more water into you.”

“Rafi,” you looked at him biting your lip as your hands struggled to undo the buttons on your top. “Let’s have sex.”

“I thought you said no sex for me because I was mean,” Rafael laughed, grabbing the make up removal wipes you kept on the dresser. He warmed at the thought that there were daily items you used all around his apartment.

“Oh yeah,” you mumbled before shrugging. “Really that’s punishing me as well and I don’t deserve that. I deserve your talented fingers, tongue and cock.”

“Lord help me,” he muttered rubbing his forehead as his cock twitched in interest. He had tried so hard to keep it down at the bar after you whispered to him but here in the privacy of his own apartment it was becoming a hassle. “Baby, you are really drunk, so that is a no on the sex.”

“Maybe but I wanna,” you promised him. “I fully, whole heartedly consent to you railing me. Besides you’re already getting me undressed.”

“To get you into something to sleep in because you are drunk,” Rafael explained patiently. This was the first time he had ever seen you drunk and it was both amusing and difficult as he tried to get you changed. “Come on arms up, there we go.”

Thankfully, in your drunken state you eagerly followed his directions as he changed you and gently wiped off the make up you were wearing. Being sure to get every last spec of it. He wasn’t about to try and get you through your entire skin care routine but he figured you could do that in the morning or he could help you if you were hungover. Who was he kidding? You were going to be so hungover.

“Sex?” you asked one last time as he got you to drink some more water, leaving a bottle on the bedside table before he quickly got changed and slid into bed beside you, tugging you close.

“You’re drunk,”

“…yeah…” yawning you wiggled into a more comfortable position of sleeping mostly on Rafael’s chest. “Night bub…” soft snores followed after that as you drifted off into a drunken sleep.

“Tomorrow morning is going to be something,” Rafael muttered pressing a kiss to the top of your head, wrapping his arms around you as he listened to you breathing, letting that lull him to sleep.

[naberiie]

it’s been ten billion years since i’ve written a naboo headcannons post but the idea of writing one on foodstuffs and on textiles is. so tempting (honestly the textiles one is one that i would, ideally, do a whole series on for different planets and systems (and therefore different cultural/religious values, etc.) but this is, for now, simply An Idea)

and what’s giving me pause is how to reckon with the racist reasoning that lay behind the development of, in particular, the portrayal of naboo monarchy as something ‘alien’ and ‘intimidating’ while literally just copy+pasting japanese (lilac visitation robes (kimono), foreign residence gown (shimada hairstyle, probably more specifically the geiko shimada) and monogolian (senate outfit, headdress of a married khalka woman) attire, whereas her (romantic, familiarly (read: western) feminine) outfits in aotc were more inspired by european dress - right now i’m thinking of having high class naboo food culture be based on japanese and mongolian, while the lower class culinary traditions would be italian/french. the only scenes i can think of that feature food are both in aotc, with the pear scene and the deleted scene at padmé’s family’s home, which i would have to watch again for more ‘clues’. and probably easier to travel undercover as a lower class, so once again that could be used to bulk up this thesis

even with the space pear i could extrapolate an huge amount of what-ifs and guesses, i.e. pears have two domestication centers (china and central asia, and caucasus region), so it would ‘make sense’ for padmé to be eating higher class foods while at an official senatorial residence, vs. whatever foods her family would serve at home. but again. i don’t know if i’ll ever write this stuff up - right now it’s just an interesting thought exercise

[cyndavilachase]

I’m Looking Forward Now 💖Thank you and good bye

So, it’s been a little over a week since Steven Universe Future ended… 

I’ve been hesitant to write this, honestly, but I’m tired of holding myself back from properly expressing myself in fear of appearing overly invested in the media I consume, even in private. Writing helps me organize my thoughts and feelings, and I feel like these thoughts in particular may resonate with many, so I want to share them. I want to talk about what Steven Universe has done for me personally, both as an artist, and as a person.

I’ve been around since the day the first episode of the original series aired. I actually remember when Steven Universe was just a logo on Wikipedia’s “List of Upcoming Cartoon Network Shows” list, back when I was a freshman in high school. It piqued my interest, but when commercials finally dropped for it, I thought it was going to be bad because of the way marketing handled introducing Steven as a likeable character. There was still something about it that made me want to give it a chance though, so I went online and watched the pilot before the first episode's release. I was hooked immediately. I knew I was going to love it, and I did. I fell so absolutely in love with Steven as a character, and the world that he and the gems lived in. I became obsessed. I was always so excited for new episodes to come out. Little did I know what else it would do for me as I went through my adolescence alongside it.

As the show progressed, it was evident that what I wanted out of a western animated childrens’ cartoon was finally coming into fruition: this show was becoming serialized. There was continuity, there was plot, there was character development-- it was getting deep. It was pushing the groundwork that Adventure Time laid out even further (thank you, Adventure Time).  

I will give credit where credit is due: earlier western childrens’ cartoons I grew up with like Hey Arnold, and Rugrats, among others, also touched on heavy topics, but Steven Universe was able to take similar ideas (and even more complex ones, concerning mental health and relationships) and expand on them outside of contained episodes and/or short arcs. These themes, which were a part of the show’s overarching story, spanned across its entirety. Continuity was rampant. 

What did this mean? It meant kids cartoons didn’t have to be silly and fun all the time and characters weren’t just actors playing a part in 11-minute skits. Steven and the gems would remember things that happened to them, and it affected them and how they would function and play a part in their story. This was a huge deal to me as a teenager. I always wanted the cartoons I grew up with featuring kid characters to feel more. In my own work, I often felt discouraged when combining a fun, cutesy western art style with themes as dark or layered as anime would cover. I always thought it had to be one or the other because an audience wouldn’t take a combination of the two seriously enough, based on discussions I had with classmates, friends, and online analysis I read at the time. Steven Universe proved to me otherwise. This show was opening the door for future cartoons exploring in-depth, adult concepts. I felt so seen as a kid, and was inspired to stick with what I love doing.

I was actually very worried about the show’s survival. It was in fact immensely underrated and the fandom was miniscule. Then in 2014, JailBreak dropped, and it’s popularity exploded. Part of it was because of the complex plot and the themes it was covering like I mentioned, but also because of its representation. 

I remember when fandom theorized that Garnet was a fusion due to grand, tragic reasons. Turns out, she’s simply a metaphor for a very loving w|w relationship. This was huge. I cannot stress how important it is that we continue to normalize healthy canon queer relationships in childens’ media, and Steven Universe finally was the first to do that proper. Introducing these themes offers the chance for a kid to sit there and ask themselves, “Why is this demonized by so many people?” I asked myself exactly that. Ruby and Sapphire were my cartoon LGBT rep. They were the first LGBT couple I ever ecstatically drew fanart of. I was dealing with a lot of internalized homophobia at the time, and they showed me that I was allowed to love women and feel normal about it. The process of overcoming this was a long one, but they played a part in my very first steps into becoming comfortable with my sexuality. I could go on and on about it’s representation in general-- how it breaks the mold when it comes to showcasing a diverse set of characters in design, in casting, and in breaking gender roles. It’s focus on love and empathy. Steven himself is a big boy, but he's the protagonist, and the show never once makes fun of his weight, or any other bigger characters for that matter. It wasn’t hard to see why the fandom had grown so large.

Fandom was always a joy for me. It was a hobby I picked up when I was in middle school, like many of us here did. I would always cater my experience to fun, and fun only. I only started getting more deeply involved in SU’s fandom when I had just turned into an adult. During the summer of 2016, between my first and second year of college, I drew for the show almost every day non-stop when the Summer of Steven event was going on and posted them online. This was a form of practice for me in order to become not just more comfortable with experimenting with my art, but also to meet new artists, make new friends, and learn to interact with strangers without fear. I dealt with a ton of anxiety when I was in high school. When I was a senior applying to art school for animation, I decided I was going to overcome that anxiety. I made plans to take baby steps to improve myself over the course of my 4 years of college. Joining the fandom, while unforeseen, was definitely a part of that process. I started feeling more confident in sharing my ideas, even if they were fan-made. I fell in love with storyboarding after that summer, when I took my first storyboarding class, and genuinely felt like I was actually getting somewhere with all of this. I remember finally coming to a point in my classes where I could pitch and not feel hopelessly insecure about it. I was opening up more to my friends and peers. 

But this process, unfortunately, came to a screeching halt. 

My life completely, utterly crumbled under me in the Fall of 2017 due to a series of blows in my personal life that happened in the span of just a couple weeks. My mental health and sense of identity were completely destroyed. All of that confidence I had worked for-- completely ruined. I was alone. I nearly died. My stay at college was extended to 4 and half years, instead of the 4 I had intended. I lost my love for animation-- making it, and watching it. I could no longer watch Steven Universe with the same love I had for it beforehand. It’s a terrible thing, trying to give your attention to something you don’t love anymore, and wanting so desperately to love again. I dropped so many things I loved in my life, including the fandom.

Healing was a long and complicated road. I continued to watch the show all the way up until Change Your Mind aired in the beginning of 2019, and while I still felt empty, that was definitely a turning point for me with it’s encapsulation of self-love. I was hoping James Baxter would get to work on Steven Universe since he guest-animated on Adventure Time, and it was incredible seeing that wish actually come true. The movie came out and while I enjoyed it and thought highly of it, I was still having issues letting myself genuinely love things again, old and new. It was especially difficult because cartoons were my solace as a kid, when things got rough at home. I remember feeling sad because the show ended, and not getting the chance to love it again like I used to while it was still going.

By the time Steven Universe Future was announced, I was finally coming around. I was genuinely starting to feel excitement for art and animation again. I wasn’t expecting there to be a whole new epilogue series, but happily ever after, there we were! Prickly Pear aired, and the implications it left in terms of where the story was going did it. I was finally ready to let myself take the dive back into fandom in January of this year. My art blew up, something I wasn’t expecting considering my 2-year hiatus. Following this, I was invited into a discord server containing some of the biggest writers, artists, editors, and analysts in the fandom. I had no idea there were so many talented people in the fandom, some already with degrees, some getting their degrees-- creating stuff for it on the side just for fun. The amount of passion and productivity level here is insane, and so is the amount of discussion that has come out of it.

I didn’t realize it at first, but it was actually helping me gain back the courage to share ideas. I lost my confidence in pitching while I was taking the time to heal, and graduating meant there would no longer be a classroom setting I could practice in. This group helped immensely. 

I have made so many friends through this wonderful series, and I have so many fond memories talking to like-minded creatives, getting feedback and a myriad of sources for inspiration, as well as all of the memes and jokes and weekly theorizations that came about as we all waited on the edges of our seats for episodes to air. I needed this so badly, I needed to get back in touch with my roots, when I would go absolutely hog-wild over a cartoon I loved with people who loved it as much I did. Future has been a blessing for me in this way. I graduated feeling like I was back at square-one, but now I feel like I’m on my way again.

It’s 2020 and while I’m doing great right now, I am honestly still recovering from the total exhaustion that followed after graduating a few months ago, and finally leaving the campus where my life fell apart behind. Needless to say, watching Future was like looking into a mirror. Watching one of my favorite characters of all time-- one that grew up with me-- go through so many of the same things I went through not too long ago was absolutely insane to watch unfold. It’s such an important thing too, to show a character go through the process of breaking down over trauma and all the nasty things that come with it, and to have them go on the road to healing. Steven got that therapy. He wasn’t blamed. The gems were called out. The finale was everything I could have ever hoped for. The catharsis I experienced watching it was out of this world.

As I continue my own healing journey, I will always look up to the storyboard artists, revisionists, and designers that I have been following over these past 7 years, as well as the new ones introduced in Future. It's been such a joy watching these artists release their promo art for episodes, talk about their experiences working on the show, and post the work they've done for it alongside episodes airing.

Thank you Rebecca Sugar, the Crewniverse, and the fans, for making this such a truly wonderful and unique experience. Thank you for reminding me that I am, and always will be, an artist, a cartoonist, and a fan. Thank you, my followers, for the overwhelmingly positive response to my artwork. I have had so much fun interacting and discussing the show with you all again over these past few months. Steven Universe and it’s fandom will always have a special place in my heart, and it will always be a classic that I will return to for comfort and inspiration for decades to come. I am sad that the cartoon renaissance is over, but so many doors have been opened thanks to this show. I am so, so excited to see what this show will inspire in the future, and I hope one day I get the opportunity to be a part of that. 

Goodbye Steven, thank you for everything. I wish you healing, and I wish Rebecca and the team a well-deserved rest. ♥️

-Cynthia D.

[themonotonysyndrome]

REDACTED verse -  A dinner and a show

Prompt: any | any | competition

Word Count: 2,460

Author/Team: LadyMonotone

Fandom/Original: Redacted ASMR (Vincent Solaire/Lovely)

Rating: T

Triggers: Explicit implications

Summary: It's a tradition within the Solaire Clan that the King would visit his progenies from time to time. Tonight, Will is coming over to Vincent & Lovely's apartment for dinner. What's not a tradition is the karaoke competition that comes afterwards. 

ConCrit: Y

I don’t know what happened. This oneshot just went out of my control but I had so much fun writing it today! I hope you guys enjoyed it! 

Also, I just realised that all the characters in my oneshots have been eating lately. Oh my god, I got so hungry when I was writing them that I subconsciously includes food in some of the scenes 😭 Food is my love language so I guess it’s cute that the bois and their lovers would sit down and eat together. 

That being said, I hope you guys will crave Korean food as much as I am in this oneshot! 😅

-

“Vincent? I need your help. Can you tell me what’s Will's favourite colours?”

“Lovely - ”

“Because I have some formal outfits in our closet, but they don’t mean shit if Will hate the colours.”

“Lovely, hang on - ”

“Is he allergic to perfumes? Colognes? I have some soft-scented bottles that should be Vampire-friendly! I think? Most of them are floral though… oh! Does he have a favourite flower? Do you think I should buy some before he comes over?”

“What? No, Lovely, I think you’re working yourself up - ”

“I know you bought some blood bags for dinner but do you think we should cook some food too? Does Will like to eat? Shit, I knew I should have bought some groceries yesterday after class!”

“You’re not listening to me at all, Lovely…”

“We have to clean up the whole place too. I don’t know how our furniture gets so dusty so quickly! I just wiped them down a few days ago!”

“...”

“Do you think I should do my hair too? It’s a bit of a mess lately; I could use a trim. Does Will - ”

Lovely's eyes widen as a deep kiss suddenly silences them. Their heart pounds when Vincent brings them close to his chest, trapping his lover in his arms. Lovely's eyes flutter close when he pulls away to press butterfly kisses on their neck. They couldn’t help it; they moan and tilt their head back when they feel fangs delicately drag down their tender skin.

“Vincent!” Lovely hisses, not sure for what, though, when Vincent's fangs pinprick where their pulse is.

“Oh? Are you finally with me again, Lovely?” Vincent breathes, loving how their heart begins to beat faster and faster in anticipation. His chest reverberates when he chuckles deeply. “There we go… I have your attention again, little one.”

They grumbled at the unfairness of it all. Just as Lovely knew all of Vincent’s weaknesses and tickle spots, he knew how weak their knees behaved when he pressed his fangs to any parts of his partner's body. Especially down south.

“I’m serious here, Vince.” Lovely whines. “There are so many things we have to do before Will comes over for dinner tonight. I want to make sure everything’s perfect.”

Vincent gives Lovely a deadpan look. They would’ve coo at how adorable he looks if it weren’t for his Vampiric speed and his habit of chucking them onto the bed whenever Lovely is being too stubborn to listen to reason. “Lovely? A question: are you dating my Sire or me?”  

Lovely blinks; they didn’t expect that. “Uh, you, duh.”

“Then trust me, as your boyfriend,” Lovely has no idea why Vincent emphasised that last word, but they knew better than to interrupt him when he gets like this. “That everything’s going to be fine. Besides, I told you that while this might look like the whole ‘meeting the parent’ shtick, the relationship between a Sire and their Progeny is way more than that.” He patiently reminds them.

“Well yeah, but he means a lot to you.” Lovely points out. Now, why did Vincent look so surprised at that? “So that means he’s important to me too. That’s why this dinner has to be perfect.”

For a moment, Vincent said nothing. He just stares at them in wonderment.

Lovely let out a surprised squeak when Vincent suddenly crushed them in a hug. “How did I get so damn lucky with you, Lovely?” He murmurs, face buried on top of their head. “Sometimes I think that you’re… too amazing to be real.”

So soft and sweet; that’s Vincent. Lovely lets him cuddle them like his personal teddy bear until he's satisfied.

“Now, I need you to do something for me, Lovely. Do you think you can do it?”

Lovely raise an eyebrow. “Depends on what it is, Vince. I haven’t eaten anything yet, so I can only give you at least four hours in bed - ”

“N-Not that!” Vincent hurries to interject, a brilliant red blush runs across his cheeks despite him being a Vampire. He coughs once to get them on track, playfully glaring at Lovely for trying to distract him. “Geez, Lovely. It’s still way too early for… that. But we're definitely going to revisit that. Anyway, I need you to calm down for a second, OK? Will is a pretty chill guy and an open-minded Sire. He knows how much I love you, so you have nothing to worry about.” He gently assures them, rubbing calming motions up and down Lovely's back.

Lovely could feel their anxiety melts away. Just enough for them to finally breathe again ever since Vincent dropped the bomb that William Solaire will be coming over for dinner tonight.

Apparently, everyone in the Clan knows that the King would visit his Progenies at least once a month to check up on them. Just like how a parent would drop by their children's home for a visit, in Lovely's opinion.

“Ok. You win, baby.” Lovely sighs, loving how his rubbing eases the tense muscles. They arch their back like a pleased, spoiled cat when Vincent messages that spot below their shoulders. “Ooooh, yes, that’s the spot!”

Once Lovely's bones feel like they could melt at any time, they throw Vincent a grateful smile.

“Now, there’s the smile I’ve been missing the whole day!” Vincent teases. “C’mon Lovely, let’s plan for dinner before we take our nap. How do you feel about seafood?”

“Oh, I can go for some seafood. It’s been a while.”

“Spicy steamed crabs with scallops, battered pan-fry oysters and some chilled bowl of rice top with raw salmon and sea bass with slices of your favourite veggies? All Korean-style."

“Hell yes. I think we have all the ingredients for that. Wait. Err, can Will handle spicy food?”

"Uh... I have no idea. Maybe we should hold back on that spicy steamed crabs with scallops just in case."

Ever since the two started living together, Vincent really took a shine when it came to cooking and baking. The idea of providing for Lovely makes him ridiculously happy, and besides, him whipping up healthy and delicious food for them results in much richer and sweeter blood flowing within his lover for him to feed on so… win-win!

As the two of them traverse to the kitchen to start preparing the ingredients for dinner, Lovely slowly gain the confidence that their dinner tonight with Vincent's Sire will turn out alright.

And before both of them knew it, the sun had set.

After a fresh shower, the entire apartment is now spotless (to Lovely's standard), and dinner is served on the table, the doorbell rings.

"I'll get it!" Lovely announce just as Vincent finish putting down the plates. They smoothen out the creases on their clothes, roll their shoulders before taking a deep, calming breath and answer the door. Like a soldier marching towards the battlefield.

Seeing his partner's dramatic reaction, Vincent just shakes his head.

As soon as Lovely opens the door, William Solaire greets them. "Good evening. I hope I'm not too early. The evening traffic has been quite a hassle lately. I figured that even if I'm a bit early, I could help you and Vincent in the kitchen." Will explains. In his arms is a bouquet of white pear blossoms, yellow gladioluses and red tulips. When Lovely stares at them curiously, Will smiles knowingly. "Vincent informed me that you don't drink, so I decided that flowers would be the appropriate gift as oppose to a bottle of champagne."

"They're so pretty." Lovely reply, breathless when they receive the bouquet. "Thank you so much, Will! I'll put them in a vase now. Oh, and please come in." They graciously step aside to let Vincent's Sire in.

While Lovely is busy rummaging for a vase in the storeroom, Will and Vincent make small talks over at the dining table. Vincent passes the ancient Vampire a tall glass of blood which Will accept with gratitude.

"Hey, Will. How's it going?"

"I'm fine, Vincent. Thank you for asking." Will reply after dabbing the bloodstain on the corner of his lips. "The Clan is the same as usual; Our Newborn members have finally settled in nicely, much to Sam's relief. I plan to visit them next week."

Vincent tops up Will's empty glass before replying. "That's great to hear." He's about to say something else before a loud bang against the wall in the storeroom stops him. "Uh, Lovely? Is everything OK in there?" He calls out.

"It's fine, it's fine!" Lovely shouts back. "I found the perfect vase for the flowers!"

Vincent groans in exasperation. When Will throws him a confused expression, Vincent is compelled to explain. "Look, Will, Lovely has been freaking out about tonight's dinner the whole day. They think that if it turns out anything but perfect, you're going to be disappointed in them. So just... just play along, alright?"

Will chuckles; his heart warms at the thought that Lovely holds him in such high regard. What an adorable human. "Is that so? Very well then, I will play the perfect guest towards such kind hosts."

And true to his words, when Lovely joins them at the table after putting the vase full of flowers on the coffee table in the living room, Will waste no time in kicking his charm to the max. In between their meal, Will makes sure to compliment Lovely's outfit (which earned him a shy yet pleased blush from Lovely and a jealous kick at his shin from Vincent). He then comments that the spicy steamed seafood dish is his favourite, and when desserts are introduced, Will gently helps Lovely open up by asking about their interests and hobbies.

Will is pleasantly surprised to find one of the many common grounds they share: their love for analysing music.

"I find RM to be one of the most brilliant lyricists in this generation." Will states once his bowl of red bean shaved ice is empty. "His songs are undoubtedly impactful for the youths of today. Not to mention that I'm quite fond of his wordplays."

"You're into K-pop!?" Lovely ask, utterly gobsmacked. Their eyes are wide in shock.

Vincent snorts. "Alexis is a BTS fan. Somehow, she managed to convert Will too."

When Lovely turn to face Will once more, their expression frozen in disbelieve, he adds, "We're planning to catch their concert once the situation permits it."

Will's pop culture admission finally broke the ice. Lovely laughs in delight before launching themselves into an animated conversation about modern music with Will.

However, it wasn't long before their topic suddenly went off the rail when Vincent claimed that he's a better shower singer than Lovely.

"Oh please, Vince, I thought you were dying in the bathroom," Lovely interjects with a roll of their eyes. Vincent splutters at his partner's cruel remark, but Lovely presses on without mercy, much to Will's amusement. He resolutely keeps his mouth shut despite his growing grin slowly making its way up to his face. "Face it, you're tone-deaf. Being a Vampire doesn't magically make you a good singer."

"Those are some fighting words, Lovely. Can you back them up?"

"We can settle this tonight if you want. You and me; we can duke it out in a singing swag off with Will as the judge." Lovey declares with a smirk before they head into the living room. All revved up as if their previous anxiety over dinner had never happened.

"Oh my..."

Vincent turns to Will with a grateful nod. "Thanks for helping them relax. And hey, you don't have to stay if you have some other plans tonight, Will."

Will stares back at his Progeny with a faux, scandalous look on his face, complete with a hand on his chest. "Why, Vincent, where would I be anywhere but here? It's not every day that I get to see you humbled by your lover. Don't think I forget that you were once known as the Playboy of the Solaire Clan."

Shock looks good on Vincent's face. It's cute that he actually forgot how he was before Lovely walks into his life. Oh, Will is going to milk this for all its worth.

"Alright! The system is set up!" Lovely announce from near the TV with a microphone in their hand. "Will, come on! You need to help me prove that Vincent sings like a dying cat. Here, here!"

"Oi, oi! We haven't even started yet!" Vincent rebuke and flits over to grab the spare microphone. "You know what, Lovely? I'm so confident that I'll win this that I'll let you go first."

Lovely grins viciously and accepts his offer. Once Will makes himself comfortable on the couch and signals for them to begin, Lovely open their mouth,

Will couldn't stop smiling as Lovely sings their heart out, and Vincent makes his grand entrance after they're done (singing one of Will's favourite songs in hopes to sway his Sire to his side). Vincent and Lovely are having the time of their life, teasing one another as they sing. Will commits this night into one of his most cherished memories.

*"Dari apa yang aku perhatikan

Manusia mahu senang tapi tak semua mahu berkorban

Dari apa yang mereka katakan

Ada yang jawab jujur tapi selebihnya kuat beralasan..."

However, as the night grows long, Will doesn't have the heart to tell them that they both are horrible singers.

-

Tonight, it's Sam's turn. Will deliver three knocks on his door before Sam swings it open. He looks exhausted, unamused and seconds away from running out of the house.  

"Good evening, Sam."

"Good evening, William. Before you come in, can I ask why my Progenies insist on having a karaoke competition tonight? On the night where they knew you were coming?"

Will begins to smile widely. Both he and Sam could hear a heated argument between Frederick and Bright Eyes from the living room.

"No, you can't sing Bambi, Bright Eyes. I won't allow it! You're going to break the windows!"

"Oh my god, would you let me live, Freddy!?"

"We've been over this; you can't sing! Wait. What are you - put down that microphone - "

Music starts to play at maximum volume, and then,

Sam closed his eyes and sighed deeply and in resignation when Bright Eyes began to sing louder to drown out Frederick's shrieking.

**“Feel it like memalla itteon mam wiro

seumyeodeun danbi

dabi piryo eopji

Because you’re my favourite..."

"I don't know what had happened - and I honestly don't want to know - but I hope you're ready to deal with these two tonight."  

"Why, Sam, where would I be anywhere but here?"

-

These are the English translations & link to the songs that Lovely and Bright Eyes were singing: 

*“From what I can see

People want the good life, but are not willing to sacrifice

From what I hear

Some are honest but others are full of excuses...”

**“Feel it like timely rain that seeps into my dry heart

No other answer is needed

Because you’re my favorite...”

[lightrises]

"Only in allowing her to pass..." — Hornet, The Radiance, and the means by which Hallownest turned its victims against each other

A quick note: I read Hollow Knight as an anti-colonialist text. As such I'll be touching on topics related to colonialism as it's depicted in the world of the game, and said analysis will reflect both a sympathetic take on The Radiance and a critique of The Pale King that won't pull its punches. If this sounds up your alley, hello and thank you for the read! Let us be sad about these bugs together.

———

So!! A while back I realized something about pre-canon that felt rather... "curious" is one way to put it, I think. To wit: for all the effort and scheming and determination The Pale King poured into trying to get rid of The Radiance, neither of his plans involved directly killing her.

Was that his long game? Well, sure, that seems clear enough. His tack changed from luring the moths away from their god and creator to a more literal form of incarceration once the infection became a factor, but at its core the end goal never really changed—The Pale King very sincerely wished to destroy Radiance via obsolescence. The Seer lends us foreshadowing to confirm as much:

[Image descriptions: Two screenshots from Hollow Knight, showing the Seer and Ghost in the Seer's alcove at the Resting Grounds. Across both screenshots, the Seer tells Ghost the following: "None of us can live forever, and so we ask those who survive to remember us. Hold something in your mind and it lives on with you, but forget it and you seal it away forever. That is the only death that matters." End description.]

(Which, by the way and given the context, talk about an extremely unsubtle allusion to cultural genocide huh!!! Whew.)

In any case, we're left with a whole bunch of machinations which build up to... well, two very roundabout attempts at committing deicide. That's kind of weird, all things considered! Why not just do the deed in one fell swoop and get it over with?

This could be for any number of reasons. Maybe the king was devoid of the means to instantly kill another higher being. Maybe his personal sense of scruples stopped him short of signing off on MURDER murder (although, y'know, the aforementioned genocide + eternal imprisonment = still cool and copasectic apparently!). Maybe the long drawn-out cruelty was the point. Maybe the idea of playing fuckign 4D chess with the circumstances was too delicious for him to pass up—that man did love to tinker and stick his claws where they sure as hell didn't belong—or maybe it was a little bit of All The Things. Who knows!!

But interrogating The Pale King's methodology on this count isn't what I'm here for, at least not really. The main reason I raise this question at all is that in her own way, Hornet did too.

"I'd urge you to take that harder path... "

See, going by The Pale King's actions and what The White Lady explicitly says, they both foresaw two outcomes wrt the infection: it can be allowed to spread, or it can be contained. At Teacher's Archives, Quirrel acknowledges the fact that Ghost is expected to do... something about this, but he doesn't elaborate on what HE thinks that's supposed to be apart from the obvious "Gotta bust into Black Egg Temple first". Hornet is the one person who presents to us—to Ghost—what's framed as a third option: confront and destroy the infection at its source.

And she doesn't bring it up like it's just another tactic for Ghost to consider, prim and indifferent to what they would do. She nudges them towards it, actively, up to the point where she throws herself into the fray against Hollow at a juncture that's uniquely dangerous to her and her alone just to make that option feasible.

Even when she's couching it in disclaimers that this is still Ghost's decision to make (and let's be fair, she's extremely not wrong about that lol), no one can pretend Hornet is unbiased. It's obvious in that buttoned-down Hornet kind of way that she is way the hell done with the increasingly tenuous stalemate that's kept Hallownest's desiccated corpse from collapsing in on itself. Personally it's hard for me not to read some Toriel Undertale-esque "My father was too entrenched in his own foolishness to pursue any course of action that would have DEFINITIVELY ended this" shade into her stance here, regardless of whether that's strictly true in canon.

And that bit—Hornet's hopes for an end to Hallownest's stasis, moreover her grim calculation of what needs to be done to get there—that's the bit I find super interesting but likewise tragic and depressing as shit, on multiple levels. In no small part because a) canon itself gestures towards Hornet feeling conflicted about the very plan she's pushing, and moreover b) she has at least two (2) damn good reasons to feel that way.

So, what do I mean by that? Let's look here first:

[Image description: A screenshot from Hollow Knight, of Hornet and Ghost inside the Temple of the Black Egg, standing in front of the unsealed egg itself. Hornet has been struck by the Dream Nail and her dialogue is displayed as follows: "... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?" End description.]

As the curtain is about to drop on things one way or another, Hornet thinks,

... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?

Now, looking at that last bit it's easy to go "Oh no, Hornet's worried that Ghost won't survive killing The Radiance!" And I do think that's part of it: Hornet is, categorically, not her father. By endgame it's clear she's not content to view her Void-borne siblings as tools to be used then disposed of. She's also well aware that as a healthy autonomous Vessel amongst the countless dead, Ghost is the only person left alive who has a fighting chance against The Radiance. Knowing someone is the only qualified candidate for the job doesn't make encouraging them to embrace a probable death sentence any less of a bitter pill to swallow, though. And odds are on that this sentiment extends to Hollow too, who IS going to die no matter what happens here. To put it bluntly, it's more than reasonable to conclude that Hornet hates the absolute fuck out of this.

But I don't think that's all there is to it either. Remember what I said earlier about The Pale King's bids for genocide? Well, it's not like the man deigned to limit his efforts to just the moth tribe.

"We do not choose our mothers... "

On top of everything else—an infected Hallownest being all she's ever known, the fact that she only exists because of the infection, the list goes on—Hornet has spent her life wedged into a position that's been uncomfortable and terminally unglamorous at best: she is both a daughter of her father's kingdom and of Deepnest.

Deepnest, which like the moths and many others was here long before the wyrm and his lady wife swanned onto the scene and the God Become Bug laid claim to everything the Light touched plus a considerable amount of change. THAT Deepnest, which has fought claw and thread to retain its sovereignty against same-said settler king, and for which Herrah not only surrendered her life but also agreed to bed her worst enemy, all in hopes of securing a viable future for her people (put a pin in that last part by the way, I'll come back to it soon).

Two Worlds, One Family (Ft. An Indigenous Woman Trying Her Damndest To Work With What She's Got Versus An Imperialist Who Only Signed Up For This Because He Needed The Political Favor THAT Badly, So It's The Height Of Dysfunctional Actually). Fun times!!!!

The baggage this entails for Hornet is gnarly enough without implications made by The White Lady and the pre-canon timeline of events and even Team Cherry's dev notes that the king may well have looked at baby Hornet, gone "YOINK", then ensured she spent the lion's share of her childhood reared within the pearly auspices of his Pale Court*. That would be rather advantageous for Him Specifically after all, the potential to mold a born foe into a future ally and even have her trained in combat under the same tutelage as her doomed sibling. And far be it from him to stop a grown Hornet—his own flesh and blood too!—from making Deepnest her forever home if she so pleased. He totally wouldn't be reneging on his "fair bargain made" by doing this one simple thing until Hornet came of age, not t e c h nic c a l l y.

If that is indeed the case, there's a non-zero chance Hornet's formative years were a hot mess of cultural alienation and being a good deal more privy than most to just how much of a bastard her father could be. There's an equally non-zero chance that at some point she stood or sat within earshot as The Pale King finally, finally dropped all pretense and euphemism to name the Light for precisely what (for who) it was.

See, in conjunction with the question that started this whole dang train of thought I've been asking this one too: Does Hornet know? When she speaks of confronting "the heart of [the] infection" does she know she's talking about not just a literal person but someone very specific? The Radiance, who god though she may be shares skin in the game alongside Hornet as a native woman screwed over by the same settler king, likewise deprived of her kin and saddled with a life gone horrendously pear-shaped?

I'll assume for the sake of exploring the possibility and because I think it's a likely one anyway that yes, Hornet does know. She knows, and despite everything can't help empathizing. She might even look at Radiance and see bits and pieces both reflected and slightly inversed in her own mother: Radiance was forced to the sidelines while her people—her children, the brood she was meant to lead and care for—died out under The Pale King's rule, and it's no stretch to assume she's at least as upset about that as she has been about everything else; Herrah too took drastic measures for her people's sake, trying to head off annihilation by relegating herself to the sidelines in an act that was as much calculated risk as an attempt to find wiggle room and leverage in the face of a nasty proposition.

A calculated risk that, if things continue as they are, might well amount to nothing as the rest of Deepnest gets eaten alive by the infection. It survived The Pale King's advances for so so long, only to fall here. Herrah's sacrifice would be for naught; the other tribes—themselves the king's victims—would keep succumbing to the infection too.

And this is where things fall apart.

"... or the circumstance into which we are born."

Let's be clear: I think Hornet is wise enough to know what's what here, that all the carnage and suffering falls on her father's head for starting this slow-motion trainwreck in the first place. Hallownest wasn't always Hallownest. This domain was Radiance's home first, along with many others. It was the worm-turned-king who rolled up on the scene unsolicited and decided this was a ""'problem""" that had to be """solved""".

But the fact of the matter is that he's gone and The Radiance is here, raging, seemingly inconsolable. Above and beyond being Deepnest's rightful heir, Hornet isn't in a position to countenance more splash damage even if the grief and fury fueling it makes perfect sense. She can understand without ever bringing herself to love Radiance, and she can bend her knee to practicality even if she hates the everloving shit out of it because the fact that it "has" to end this way isn't fair.

This lends itself to one last awful conclusion: that Hornet has probably considered and (rightly or wrongly) discarded the possibility that Radiance can be saved, at least not without dragging more collateral along for the ride. If even her mother and every other enemy to the king seemed to dismiss talking Radiance down as an option way back when... well. Why should Hornet hope for any better after things have escalated so far?

Again, it's practical. A practical net good is what Hornet strives for. And again, it fucking sucks.

For extra tragedy points, this makes Hornet's extended crypticness around Ghost followed by her last minute casting about for a reason to tell them "Wait, don't; not just yet" that she never voices even more of a gut punch. She can't bring herself to burden Ghost with the context that haunts her so, least of all when it might weaken their resolve to go through with what (she thinks) needs doing.

It's the "same song, different verse" which led to the mantis tribe and Deepnest being pitted against each other: Hallownest rigged the game so that two women who could have been powerful allies—who have a mutual vested interest in driving out settler rule—wound up poised as enemies instead. And how awful is that? The king for all his being extremely fucking dead still gets the last laugh, because outside of a miracle the game never manifests Hornet can salvage what her mother started and look forward to a future where Deepnest pulls itself back from the brink if and only if The Radiance dies.

Resolution comes at the price of a completed genocide. Add two more dead siblings to the unconscionable pile thereof, while we're at it. That's what it boils down to whether or not Hornet can bear to articulate it as such, and there's no grace or even a properly bittersweet ending to wring from this clusterfuck. And that is rough.

———

* This has been better explained elsewhere, but a quick rundown: The White Lady tells Ghost that Hornet and Herrah "were permitted little time together." On its surface this can be taken to mean that Hornet was still very young when Herrah was shipped off to Eternal Dreamland—except this doesn't jive with the fact that we meet Hornet as an adult. If the stasis kicked in once the Dreamers went to their rest, which in turn halted the aging process for every living bug in Hallownest, AND before all this Hornet experienced little by the way of quality time with her birth mother... I think you can see where I'm going with this.

To top it off we've got Team Cherry weighing in ominously from their dev notes on Herrah: "As part of the agreement for her alliance and her role as a dreamer, King gave her a child (Hornet). Was she allowed to keep this child or was she taken away?" This isn't confirmation by itself of course, but given additional canon details (see above): Can I get a "yikes" in the chat fellas.

[apples-r-rubbish]

John (11 x reader) Part 1

Summary: The doctor was being tracked. So he decided to become John to blend into a small town. It would only be 6 months he said. Word count: 3.4k Warnings: violence mention and knives and angst  AN: Hi! First fic ever uploaded to tumblr so I’m excited. Hopefully this is good and isn’t too long. Part 2 and 3 should be up soon. Hope you like it!! Also I wrote the reader as female in this so sorry, I’m going to try to be more inclusive in later fics :,)

It had been 2 years, 3 months and 16 days since you’d all arrived in the 1920s, in a quaint little village in the south. You had also been told it would be a maximum of 6 months you would spend here, and boy, how the Doctor was wrong. He was being hunted, by a species that wanted to harvest timelord energy so they could learn to regenerate. So he’d picked a random village and a random time period, given you all jobs, and rewritten his own biology in an attempt to stay safe.

“I’m going undercover as a human, I’m rewriting my genetic code to stay safe, everything non-human about me will be held in this watch, and hidden somewhere linked to me, there will be another fake one hidden with me or on the TARDIS. I won’t recognise it, I’ll barely acknowledge it, or just enough to the point where fake me won’t think there’s anything off about it.” He explained slotting the watch into a rather aggressive looking head contraption, and throwing a device at Amy “I’m becoming John Smith, a history teacher at a local grammar school, Amy and Rory, your job is to track the thing, it has a unique energy signature with that device. Rory you work in the local hospital and Amy you work in a shop. (Y/N), your job is to keep an eye out for me, make sure John doesn’t do anything ridiculous, or fall in love or in a deep hole he can’t get out of. You’re the secretary at the grammar school,”

You cringed at memories as you sat in bed. Thinking over the last 2 years and everything that had happened since, it was all a distant memory now.

“The TARDIS will be in an emergency state if you need her. I won’t know you or remember you. It’s to keep you safe and for your own good. It’ll be six months, at maximum, nothing to worry about, Ponds, (L/N),” he smiled cautiously as he put the device on his head. The thing connected as he screamed, and shook, the agony in face unbearable. 

Eventually, you decided you had to get up so you didn’t lose your job, you put on a dress, strapped a cautionary knife to your leg for protection along with the sonic screwdriver so you knew it wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands or  just in case the thing decided to attack today. You walked to the school. The village was fairly spread out but with limited people, less than 1000 people, everyone knew at least something about everyone apart from the few of you that had been welcomed two years prior. God how you missed Uber, and being able to go on regular runs without judgement. 

When you arrived you stored your coat and bag in a storage room, making polite conversation with your coworkers in your office. John wandered in and smiled at you. “Hello, Miss (L/N), how are you doing today?” He was more posh in this version of himself, he sounded southern and as if he had been educated at the grammar school years prior. 

“I’m very well, sir, just a little tired today. How about yourself?” You had also taken this time as an opportunity to sound more from the time period, to blend in and look more authentic compared to your back story that was full of holes. 

“Good good, sounds like you need more sleep-” He paused upon realising the implications of his words “I- I didn’t mean anything like that, I meant perhaps-” He was like this a lot, he stumbled over himself. Not as confident as the doctor in far too many areas. “Nevermind, Mr Smith, I knew what you meant. What did you come in here for?” you lips pursed together, when he had his memories back you were going to slap him so painfully hard he’d regenerate. He may have had the doctor’s face however, he was not him. Maybe this version of the doctor had taken a liking to you, more than the actual Doctor ever would. You had to stick close to him so you allowed it, although it was painful at points seeing a man you had fallen in love with, finally acknowledge your existence as someone else.

“I needed to check the staff file and I just wanted to chat with you.” So you talked for a while. 

The school day went by relatively smoothly apart from a student vomiting in the hallway, and two students almost getting into a fight, everything seemed standard, as the previous 837 days had. Nothing new. Nothing out of the ordinary.

The village was small and were grateful for that, all the shops were local and the furthest house was a 45 minute walk away. Ultimately, you had decided to visit Amy and Rory as you did most nights as they understood the pain you were going through, trapped away from your time period without your family, and closest friend, whilst also being tracked by an alien. 

“-and then he looked at me and said I needed to get more sleep,” You said between sips of wine and painful laughs

“I can’t believe he struggles with social interaction more as an actual human rather than a timelord,” Amy laughed, this was the tradition, when Rory was working the nightshift, one of you would visit the other, and you’d laugh and drink together.

“At least you get to see him consistently,” Amy added, “We barely do. Rory sees him maybe once every few weeks down at the pub, and I see him when he comes into the shop or at the hall. You at least consistently know he’s safe and happy,”

“Yeah but it’s not exactly him is it. It’s like you see a picture of someone before you know them, like you can acknowledge it’s them but they’re just missing the odd piece to them, like the smile isn’t quite wide enough or their hair is parted differently. It’s a version of him, without him. Without the timelordy, alieny bits,” 

“Maybe so, but it’s something, and we don’t have a lot else right now,”

“God, I can’t wait to wear pants and jeans when we get back to our time,” You said standing and embracing Amy in a warm hug “I need to go home and get some sleep, long day tomorrow, my turn to check. Thanks for having me, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When you had arrived home, that's when you saw him, a boy from the school outside your door, mindlessly staring through one of your windows.

“Edward Gray, dear? Are you alright? What are you doing here?” You asked panic rising quietly through you

Seemingly snapping out of his trance “Huh? Nothing Miss, I must’ve got a bit lost and confused, that’s all,” He said rubbing his temples, the expression he gave you didn’t reach his eyes, as if he was struggling to believe the words himself. 

“You might want to get home, make sure your mother knows you're safe. We don’t want her up worrying all night now do we? Run along dear,” You said as you unlocked your house and he turned and ran. 

You settled into bed for the night, pulling out a notebook and writing down bits from your previous adventures you could remember, it wasn’t for Amy and Rory you would've been doubting the validity of your stories and doubting that the alien had even existed at all, and wasn’t just a random man from your work who paid attention to you, smiled at your jokes, and whose eyes were full of mystery.

More dreams, more memories, more days. You woke up with a jump, your alarm surprising you. More morning rituals. Breakfast, check. Shower and brushed teeth, check. Dressed, check. Knife, check. Sonic, check. It was a friday so it was your turn to check the TARDIS. It was abandoned in a shed in one of the in one of the many fields surrounding the village that had long been forgotten. She wheezed slightly when you entered, a half asleep acknowledgment of someone else’s company.

“Hello dear, I’ve missed you too,” You said in response, a tinge of sadness in your voice, another sleep wheeze escaped from the console. You replayed the message the doctor had given you. He animatedly explained all the points, once again, like clockwork: village, 20s, hunted, six months, keep watch, pears, stay safe, teaching, secretary, shop, six months. Nothing had changed, you kept quietly wishing for the audio to alter, or the video to change, it never did. It was still the same video, and your alien bestfriend promised 6 months and nothing more.

Somehow, you had managed to arrive early to work. The majority of your colleagues had not yet arrived. In moments like this you had begun reading in classrooms, specifically, John’s. There was something comforting about it, perhaps it was the doctor’s energy. Quiet times like this helped usually, sometimes they made the situation worse, the silence was sometimes unbearable as thoughts of your future life rumbled around your head. You had positioned yourself near a window and pulled out a copy of the Great Gatsby. Whilst you were engrossed in your book, the door opened silently, John slipping in without you noticing

“Miss (L/N)? What are you doing here?” He whispered, his eyes staring deep into your soul, at times like this, he was almost the doctor. You jumped, the sudden noise surprising you

“Ah, sorry, John, dear. I was just reading, I had a bit of time before the day began,” You started 

“It’s alright, no need to apologize. What are you reading?’

“Mr Fitzgerald’s new book, I have heard nothing but good things,” 

“Ah, I prefer the classics, great expectations and such.” Even as a human he was still so much of the doctor. 

You stood up suddenly “Anyway, I need to go. I have my duties to attend to.”

John rambled “Stay! If you want to- I mean- if you would like you can stay here and read, I don’t mind and I’m sure the others wouldn’t mind, I’ll convince them it was my idea. even though it was anyway,”

You considered it for a brief moment, you shook your head, “I can’t, I have particularly busy day,”

“At least let me walk you home tonight then, if you’re busy throughout the day. I enjoy your company,” he said with a wink and then he caught himself and looked shocked that he had actually just done that.

“Fine. I finish at 5. But you must know the neighbours will talk,” You said in attempt to deter him

“Oh, let them, this small town loves gossip,” John smiled in a very doctorish manner. You nodded slightly. A small smile graced your lips, a tinge of sadness in your eyes, you prayed he wouldn't notice as you turned to leave the room. You didn’t see him silently stick his hand out in an attempt to comfort you, over feelings he would have no concept of. John Smith and his small smiles and sweet talk would be the death of you. The Almost Doctor. So close yet, so far out of reach.

You had the trouble of organising staff schedules that week and planning and writing assemblies for other teachers, you didn’t mind though it kept you busy. 

“(Y/N), did you hear Edward Gray hasn’t shown up today,” One of your colleagues Mrs. Price had said, she was elderly woman, her hair greying slightly, her glasses rested on a chain that was always around your neck

“That’s peculiar, he was outside my house last night,” You began as you explained to the other woman. She sat in an awkward silence afterwards.

“According to his mother, he did get home ok, he just came in this morning. Must’ve just decided he wanted to wander the woods for a break,” She said with a nervous laugh and you followed suit before going back to clicking away at your typewriter. 

The day eventually ended at 5pm as you said a brief weekly farewell to the other office staff members before heading to the front of the building. John Smith was stood at the front he gave you a wide small and small wave that you returned

“Mr Smith,” You said with a smile as you approached him

“Miss (L/N).”

On the way home, you chatted about anything and everything, you trying to fix the holes in your double life story, and the chameleon arch filling in the gaps in his. You were simply two half strangers sharing half truths with one another. If the Doctor were actually here he’d laugh. Occasionally, neighbours would nod their heads towards you in acknowledgment, none of them stopping to talk. One neighbor seemed off, you believed his name was Mr Roscoe and he was an older man from the village. He made intense eye contact with you both before bumping into the doctor aggressively, squaring up to him.

“Timelord, your days will soon be up. We will have your secrets soon enough,” Roscoe hissed. Adrenaline pumped through your veins, you pulled the knife from your leg and pointed it at Mr Roscoe’s throat. 

“Good, God Miss (L/N), where did you- what’s going on? Why do you have a knife?” John stammered the chameleon arch kicking into overdrive. 

“Shut up,” You snapped, he opened his mouth to speak, he decided against it, then closed it again. You turned your attention back to the older gentleman, “Leave him be. He is not what you are after. This is your final warning, approach any of us again and this knife is going right in one of your vital organs. Clear? Or will I have to do it as a warning?” You snarled anger rising with each word edging the knife close to the man as you waved it for emphasis.

“Crystal,” The man replied, void of tone. Before turning and walking away sending a sharp glare in your direction as he wandered off

“Do you mind if we visit your house instead I have a phone call to make?” You asked the knife away, smiling and acting like nothing had occurred, slipping your arm back around John’s. John simply stammered in agreement, still not entirely grasping the intensity of the situation.

John’s house was rather large for him, he’d claimed it was far too big for one person and that he ought to let it out, but it was close to his job and he could afford it and that he also preferred his own company. 

You waited until he left his kitchen to call Amy,

“Hello, this is Amelia Williams,” She chimed

“Red, wolf, now,” You said breathlessly, it was code, you had invented, between the three of you, if people were around that couldn’t know about the predicaments you faced, such as John you would use it. Red was danger, wolf was alien.  She breathed a curse into the phone

“You’re safe, I presume, stay that way and with him, time to locate the pin and the needle,” more code, you simply said a quiet yet nervous ‘yes’ into the phone. The pin being the watch, the needle being a decoy.

“What about your job? 2 years, wolf tracking was up to you,” You hissed

“I’m sorry. I think the battery died long ago, we have no idea how to charge it even with the TARDIS. Plus, he never gave us an explanation of how to use it,” You mumbled a brief apology for hissing and hung up, after she had made sure you were fine, in the overly complex code, you former companions shared. 

“What was that about?” John asked reentering the kitchen and breaking you from your thoughts holding some glasses, a bottle and packet of cigarettes. “Sorry, just a small code with a code with a friend, letting her know I’m safe and with a friend incase she gets worried or tries to visit,” You explained quickly

He smiled at that, maybe he had bought it, maybe not, “You’re so intelligent.” He breathed half to himself, half to you “Come on time for a smoke and a drink to calm us down after that, erm, experience,” 

You sat next to eachother on one of the few steps that led to his garden. “So why do you carry a knife?” Was the first question out of his mouth after he’d poured drinks

“An old friend, he had some issues, told me to protect myself, I just felt I needed to make sure I was safe,” You replied simply, “And I hate guns, so a knife had to do,”

“In the 2 years I have known you, (Y/N), I’ve learnt very little about you, other than today.” He sighed 

“You don’t need to know a lot, there’s not a lot I can tell you really, a fairly ordinary life,” 

“Do you smoke?” He said offering you the box, with a smile you accepted one and lit it, 

“Not often, we’ll have to share this one, I can’t handle full ones this late.” You passed it back to him “my friend wouldn’t approve so I try to not,” 

“Well you have to make your own decisions,”

“He wouldn’t approve of you offering, I mean” You corrected “Also maybe not me accepting,” 

“I need to tell you something,” He began, “I have these dreams- and they’re about the future and they involve you and that quiet couple from the village. We travel to other worlds and I’m from another planet and we try to save people.  And it matches some of what Mr Roscoe had said. How crazy is that?”

Shit. You hadn’t considered dreams “Well ultimately dreams are the subconscious filling the space so I would imagine it is perfectly normal thing to dream. And as for Mr Roscoe, he’s a confused old man, I doubt he even realised what he said, John,” You laughed nervously, the chameleon arch had already started fixing the damage

“You can stay overnight, if you’d like I have a guest bedroom set up and some spare toiletries, just so you’re not worried about getting home. Mr Roscoe put the fear of God in us earlier and I wouldn’t like that to happen again, especially if you’re walking home” Even now, when he wasn’t himself, he was still unbelievably kind.

“Ok, then I’ll stay,” You nodded, you did not want another Edward Gray situation

“So this friend of yours. Would he approve of you staying the night? Does he approve of much? It certainly doesn’t seem it,”

“Perhaps he would. Maybe with you, maybe not, it's difficult to say. He doesn’t approve of much and yet many things. Kindness and eccentricity are two things he absolutely loves. He’s a good man, a kind man,” You tried to explain, taking the cig back “He’s a pacifist. And when he smiles the stars seem to align. We travel together. Or rather we used to before I settled here. I’m waiting for him to come back.”

“Oh are you and him-”

“Uh, no, absolutely not. I did see him like that, he did not see me that way. He has no reason to, he carries the stars with him and the world on his shoulders. He’s got enough to worry about without me,” you stated, a small tear slipping from your eyes, John wiped it away quickly , taking the cigarette back and finishing it

“I mean, perhaps he could, view you like that. If I were him and I know I could never be, I wouldn’t hesitate. You’re wonderful, kind and beautiful, intelligent and astonishingly brave,” John smiled “and if he can’t see that, I’m sure someone else will.” 

The silence after his words was comfortable. You didn’t quite expect it. The ferocious love in his voice, the warmth and kindness. It seemed so disjointed from the normal, nervous and awkward John. You rested your head against him, a form of acceptance to his words. He wrapped his long since abandoned jacket around you, along with his arm, trying to shield you from the cold. The drinks had been finished a while,  and cigarettes long since burned to ash. You stayed that way for a while, at least in that hidden moment you could pretend it was him and that things weren’t about to turn terrible. At least you had now and the steps in his garden long after dark.

PART 2

[ryqoshay]

Putting on Hairs: Favorable Dress

Primary Pairing: YohaRiko Hinted: KotoUmi Words: ~2.4k Rating: G? Maybe mild T for one of the implications...? AU: Theater, Werewolf, Werebeast, Monster, Cryptid, Angelic, Demonic

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Author’s Note: I honestly can’t remember the last time I’ve written this much in this short of time...

Summary: Riko is hoping Kotori and Yoshiko can make a dress for her. But nothing is free...

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Riko approached the costume department with severe trepidation. Her heart was actively trying to pound itself out of her chest at the thought of facing her. Well, not her specifically, she knew she would feel this way about anyone of her kind. But right now, she was the one here.

But, of all the places in this amazing, wonderful world, why did she have to fall here? In this country? In this city? And now she was working at the same theater where Riko had just recently been hired.

Of course, the very same thing could be asked of Riko herself. Why did she have to flee to this particular island off the main coast? Choose this particular city? Accept a position playing the piano in the orchestra pit of this particular theater?

Was this all His idea of a cruel joke?

It was bad enough that she had stood so close during the meeting earlier in the day where the theater’s premiere patron was introduced. Why did she have to do that? Did she not sense Riko like she sensed her? Was she not uncomfortable with Riko’s presence as Riko was with hers?

Riko sighed. Why was she even doing this? Well, she needed a dress. But surely, she could just go find one at a local shop, right? Did she really need to deal with her to have one made special? But the examples she had see so far were just… otherworldly; so much better than anything she had seen window shopping around the area.

“Ah, Riko-chan!” An ashen blonde head poked into the hallway, startling Riko. “Yoshiko-chan was right when she said you were coming. Welcome! Come on in!” Kotori ushered the redhead into the room.

“Pardon the intrusion…” Riko said as she stepped through the door, immediately needing to resist the urge to turn back and run.

There she was, black wings spread wide in all their glory and looking as powerful as any other angel, despite her fallen status. And she was… trimming fur from a black kitten in her lap? What?

Yoshiko looked up with a surprisingly cheerful smile. “Welcome to Hell Zone, Riko!”

“Hell… Zo… eh?” Riko’s gaze flitted fervently around the room, seeking hellforged artifacts or demonic runes or something, anything that might imbue the area with the powers of Hell. And while she certainly sensed auras radiating off most of the equipment and tools, nothing appeared to be of infernal or divine origin.

“Or would you prefer I call you Pirum?”

“Eehhh?!” Riko aborted her vain attempts to scour the room as Yoshiko uttered her true name.

“Kind of a strange name for a demon, though…” Yoshiko continued as if she hadn’t noticed Riko’s reaction. “Do you guys even have pears down there?”

“Now, now, Yoshiko-chan,” Kotori chided playfully “we shouldn’t scare our clients like that. Now, what can we do for you, Riko-chan?”

“Uhm…” Riko fidgeted with her fingers, trying desperately to resist fleeing. “Kurosawa-san recommended I check with you about having a dress made for an upcoming recital?”

“Of course!” Kotori chirped. “We would be happy to make something for you.”

“She, uhm, didn’t give me an idea about pricing though…”

“Oh, don’t you worry your pretty little head about that.” Kotori smiled. “You’re in the orchestra here, right?”

“Yes… but…”

“So, we’ll make the dress for you and you can just owe us a favor.”

Something about the sparkle in the costume designers eye made Riko feel a bit ill at ease. More so than she already was.

“I’m not sure…”

“Surely you know about favors, right?” Yoshiko spoke up. “Your boss’s boss is fond of them, right?” She offered a decidedly devilish grin.

“Uhm…” Riko felt her knees start to shake.

“Don’t mind them.” A deep, masculine voice said from… somewhere. Riko couldn’t readily identify the source. “They’re just teasing you.”

“Phobetor.” Yoshiko gently swatted the kitten in her lap.

Wait, that had been the cat that spoke? But its mouth hadn’t moved. How… Then again, it wasn’t the strangest thing Riko had seen, here or down below.

“Sorry if we scared you.” Kotori giggled. “I am serious about the favor, but don’t worry, it won’t be anything beyond what you’re capable of giving.”

“What… did you have in mind?”

“Hrm…” Kotori considered for a moment. “Would you mind show me your wings?”

“Eh? My… my wings?”

“Yes, please.” Kotori nodded. “You’re a demon, right? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a demon’s wings. Are they feathered like Yoshiko-chan’s or leathery and bat-like or skeletal like in some movies?” She seemed to be getting pretty excited about the concept.

“Uhm… could we maybe… close the door first?” Riko requested meekly.

She realized that was closing off her easiest route of escape, but unless it was imbued with some anti-demon inscription or blessed or whatever, it wouldn’t actually prove much of a barrier to her. Also, despite her persisting fear, something in the back of her mind had begun insisting she could trust these two. Or three, really.

Yoshiko hadn’t attacked her on sight. Kotori obviously knew her nature and wasn’t afraid or hateful, rather she seemed genuinely intrigued. And while they had both teased her, neither had been malicious. Even Yoshiko’s mention of her true name had seemed more like an honest, if again teasing, question than some attempt to wield power over her.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Riko unfurled her wings.

Kotori’s eyes grew wide in awe. “They’re beautiful…” She marveled.

Riko blushed. She’d never heard that word associated with her wings before.

“Can I…?” Kotori reached forward.

Riko offered a weak nod before flinching a little as the designer’s hands began exploring.

“Definitely bat-like.” Kotori murmured, moving her fingers gently across the membrane. “A little drier than I expected, but still, lovely material. These will do nicely.”

“M-material?” Riko instinctively snapped her wings back in. “Are you saying you want me to trade my wings for a dress?”

“Not in their entirety.” Kotori replied. “Just a clipping. A little goes a long way, especially when imbued with such power.”

“Uhm…”

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea, Kotori.” Yoshiko spoke up.

“Oh?” The lead designer asked.

“Because demon wings are different than those of an angel, or a crane.” The blue-haired girl explained. “I mean, I’m no expert in demon physiology, but I’m pretty sure she’s got veins and nerves and stuff running throughout. It’s probably hurt her more than when you or I just pluck our feathers; certainly more than trimming Phobetor’s fur.”

“Although,” Phobetor spoke again “with her regeneration, she could very quickly heal the amount I assume you would be taking.”

“Yeah, but…” Yoshiko started.

“And if I recall correctly, that Kanata girl can adjust her abilities to numb rather than put to sleep. She’d be fully regenerated before she actually felt anything.”

Kanata? “Konoe-san?” Riko asked. “I thought I felt another demonic presence here.”

“Indeed.” Phobetor stood and stretched before yawning. “Although she is here for different reasons than you. While she is here to feed, you seem more interested in music. Pray tell, did you grow weary of playing Hell’s music and came to Earth for a change of pace?”

Riko blinked. “How… how did you know?”

“One of my primary duties is to run reconnaissance and monitor all local entities that could pose a threat to my master.” The cat explained. “Celestials, especially demons, are always worth investigation.”

“I see… wait, so you’ve been spying on me?”

“Indeed. And I have determined that you are not a threat to my master, Ms. Pirum.”

“… Oh…” Whatever was left of Riko’s fear was displaced entirely by embarrassment. “I see, well… uhm… Anyway, Riko is fine…”

“Very well. Riko it is.” Phobetor gave a single, curt nod. “Though it must be said that my assessment is not an indictment upon your power. You are still a demon after all. Rather, I have determined you to be far too… demure, for lack of a better word.”

“… Oh…”

“Also, your reading proclivities are quite… interesting, I must say.”

“Eh?”

“Oh? What kinda books do ya read, Riko?” Yoshiko perked up suddenly. “Earth is filled with a ton of strange tomes and some of their ideas on magic and such are utterly baffling. Though there are some amazing artists who create some amazing manga and doujin. Humans can tell such wonderful stories.”

“D… doujin…” Riko felt herself blush.

“Yeah, have you ever been to Comiket? Mortals sure know how to celebrate their hobbies.”

“She has attended.” Phobetor confirmed.

“Phobetor…” Riko whined.

“Really?” Yoshiko became even more excited. “Maybe we should go together this year.”

“… Maybe…”

“I do believe your tastes are vastly different, though.” Phobetor said.

“Oh? What kinda stuff do you like, Riko?” Yoshiko asked again.

“Uhm…” Riko hesitated.

“Her preferred reading material is…”

“<Stay thy tongue, meddlesome furball!>” Riko snarled in an ancient demonic language.

The other three occupants in the room stared at her in stunned silence.

Riko’s hands flew up to clamp across her mouth as heat exploded across her cheeks, spreading quickly to her ears and down her neck.

Yoshiko snorted.

“I’m… I’m so sorry…” Riko cried, her voice muffled through her fingers. “I didn’t mean…”

Yoshiko burst out laughing. Kotori giggled.

“I thought… you said… she was too demure…” Yoshiko managed get out between bouts.

“That seemed like the best description at the time.” Phobetor stated matter-of-factly.

“Are you… sure… she’s not a… threat?”

“My assessment remains unchanged.”

Why in the nine circles did you have to go and do that, of all things? Riko berated herself. She was so embarrassed she felt she could die and go back to Hell. Well, maybe not. She really had no desire to return.

“There, all done.” Kotori suddenly announced.

“Eh?” Riko came back to reality. “Done? Done with what?”

“Your measurements.”

“Measure…”

“For your dress.”

“Yes, I know, but… when did you…?”

“While you, Yoshiko-chan and Phobetor-chan were talking.”

“I didn’t even notice.” Riko admitted.

Kotori smiled. “I’ll draw up some proposed designs and give them to you tomorrow.” she explained. “Once you decide on one you like, we can get to choosing fabrics.”

“Alright.” Riko agreed. “Oh, uhm… about the favor…”

“Oh, don’t worry about the wing thing.” Kotori dismissed. “We’ll think of something else, it’s fine.”

“Well, if you don’t mind my asking, what did you intend to do with the trimmings?”

“Make leather of course. There are a lot of costumes and accessories that need leather, belts, shoes, jackets, all sorts of things.”

“So, it would be used for the theater?”

“Of course!” Kotori chirped. “Everything I do is for Umi-chan’s theater.”

“Unless someone else like Riko comes and wants something made for a non-theater event.” Yoshiko pointed out.

“Well, yes, but the favors we ask in return always benefit the theater.”

“That’s true.” The fallen angel conceded.

Riko steeled herself for what she was about to say. “I’ll do it. You can use some of my wings to make costumes for the theater.”

Kotori’s eyes widened as she inhaled with excitement. “Really?” She grabbed Riko’s hands and pulled herself closer. “You’ll let me make celestially imbued leather?”

“Y-yes...”

“Oh, thank you, Riko-chan!” Kotori surged forward and wrapped her arms around the redhead.

“Hey, Phobetor,” Yoshiko addressed her cat “you wanna go tell Kanata she’s on notice for numbing duties?”

“Will do.”

With that, Phobetor blinked out of existence. Is he a teleporter? Riko wondered.

“Well, we don’t have to do it right away.” Kotori said, pulling out of the hug. “I won’t collect payment until I know my customer is satisfied with the product I am selling them.”

Yoshiko shrugged. “We’re only putting her on notice.”

“Message has been delivered.” Phobetor’s voice sounded before he popped back into the room. “She said it would only take her a second, so we can have her do so whenever we are ready.”

“Only a second, huh?” Yoshiko pondered something for a moment. “I wonder if her sleep spell works that fast too.”

“I would imagine it takes effect quickly, for the sake of facilitating faster feeding.”

“You mentioned feeding before.” Riko said. “She’s not… eating people… is she?”

“Their dreams.” Phobetor responded. “She calls herself a Somnophore, though I believe Somnophage would be more accurate. But who am I to judge such things?” The cat seemed to almost shrug. “I am surprised you did not know.”

“I sensed she was a fellow demon.” Riko admitted. “But I hadn’t had a chance to determine what kind.”

“I’d let her feed on my dreams…” Yoshiko seemed lost in thought.

“Why, do you want her to put you to sleep, Yoshiko-chan?” Kotori asked.

Yoshiko chuckled. “It would help some nights.”

“Well, Kanata-chan seems to love the pillow I made for her.” Kotori explained. “It’s stuffed with a special blend of our feathers and she says it works wonders.”

“A pillow, huh?” Yoshiko turned her head and shifted one of her wings over for inspections. “I never thought about making one of those.”

“I’d be happy to show you how.”

“Alright.” Yoshiko agreed. “Although I’m surprised you didn’t make one for your precious Umi.”

“Of course, I made one for Umi-chan.” Kotori giggled. “But that was years ago, long before I came here. So that one was made with just my feathers. I made one for Honoka-chan then as well.” Her eyes sparkled as she seemed to be reviewing fond memories. “They still have them to this day.”

“Anyway, we should probably get back to work.” Yoshiko hopped up to her feet and moved across the room. “And I know you have rehearsals coming up. It was nice meeting you, Riko.” She smiled and reaching out a hand.

“Likewise.” Riko agreed, accepting the handshake.

“Phobetor tells me you’re quite good on the piano. Which makes sense, given who you serve under.”

“Well, not really.” Riko shook her head. “Not anymore.”

“Ah, I see.” Yoshiko nodded. “I can empathize completely. I haven’t served Him in a good long while.”

“Mm…”

“Anyway, I still look forward to hearing you play.” She grinned. “Maybe Kotori will let me out of this hell every once in a while, so I can head upstairs and listen a few times.”

“Awuuu…” Kotori pouted. “Yoshiko-chan, don’t make me out to be like some hellish taskmaster.” She blinked and turned to Riko. “No offense.”

Riko chuckled. “None taken. There’s certainly no shortage of taskmasters down there. That’s part of why I came up here.” With that said, she turned toward the door. “I’ll see you two… sorry, three, later.”

Words of departure and well wishes followed Riko into the hallway, and as she walked, her thoughts remained on the individuals she had just met. They were an interesting group, to say the least. But friendly, even to a demon like her. Maybe… perhaps, just maybe, working in close proximity to an angel wouldn’t be all that bad after all.

----------

Author’s Notes Continued in Followup Post

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Also saw you're doing requests so yay!!. Any chance of jercy bakery au? Love your work sm hope you have a great day ☺☺

My Darling Anon how dare you make me fall more in love with Jercy???????? I squealed when i saw this and then promptly started writing even though i should be studying for my (ironically) Greek Mythology test.

i hope you love it because if i fail at least i know it’ll be worth it :) Also this was honestly supposed to be a quick drabble and it somehow ended up as 1,5K+ words so??? #isanyonesurprisedthough

Masterlist

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Jason Grace smiled as the birds beside his head chirped and then swiped his phone to cut off the amusing sound. His fiery friend, and co-worker thought it was hilarious to steal his phone and change his alarm tone every few weeks. Usually it was something inane and silly like a cartoon laugh track or just a repeating “It’s time to get up BakerBoi” that gets increasingly louder. He had arrived to work with a scowl on his face only to see the shit-eating grin of Leo Valdez waiting at the door.

Now Jason stumbles out of bed, letting his limbs loosen as he pads softly to the bathroom, feeling cool tile and a winter breeze on his exposed skin. He loves mornings like this, when the world isn’t quite awake, and the sky hasn’t decided what colour it wants to be for the day. He knows in is baker’s bones that it’ll be cold and rainy, but he has time for a morning jog before the world starts crying.

“Good morning boss,” A bright eyed, fidgeting Leo greets as he steps into the bakery.

Jason had been there at seven thirty, pulling down the café chairs and cleaning the counters. He already had a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies and about three different types of muffins in the oven. The bread was waiting for the busy hands of Leo and Hazel who somehow always seemed to make heavenly fluffed, soft rolls and the deliciously crusty baguettes. Hazel jokes that it’s the New Orleans blood that flows through her veins. They’re all half inclined to agree.

“Morning Valdez, I like the alarm this week.” He tosses a grin over his shoulder before going back to his icing ritual. Mix, taste, mix, ice.

“I figured you would old man. Even though i much prefer my ASMR food audio from last week. What’s the specialty today?”

“We need to get beignets out and the pain au chocolats before the breakfast crowd. Also the fruit stuffed pastry twists and the honey bread have to be prepped before we open so we can bring them out hot in time for the brunch crowd. Specialty today is a new thing I’ve been working on. Blue blondie doughnuts with Oreo cream filling and sugar glaze.”

“Gods boss, you tryna give people heart failure?”

“Just trying to insert some sweetness into the world,” He winked.

Before Leo could give an undoubted snarky reply a bubbly head of dark brown curls and glittering eyes popped around the door.

“Goooood morning everyone,”

Jason couldn’t help the smile that graced his face at her cheeriness, “Hello Miss Levesque, glad to see a prettier face around here,”

Leo made a strangled noise of indignation from the other side of the kitchen but didn’t get the chance to voice his offense before the last member of their little group walked in.

“Ah there you are Miss McLean, I do wonder how you arrive with Hazel and still manage to get in after her.”

She gave him an exasperated look, “I have to say goodbye to my girlfriend before I come in Boss. You’re the one who banned couple calls in the bakery.”

“Well maybe if we didn’t have to hear you and Annabeth explicitly planning your night’s activities I wouldn’t have had to do that.”

Piper just rolled her eyes and went to grab her apron and a cloth to wipe down the tables.

"Everyone ready?" He asked, from the door of the kitchen an hour later.

"Ready for the storm boss," They all yelled back, as they did each morning.

"Then let's roll like thunder," He grinned, flinging the doors to Ambrosia Bakery open.

"Oh thank the heavens, I could smell the goodness from here and it was a struggle to keep the drool in," One Reyna Avila Ramirez Arellano breathed in deep.

"Good morning my favourite customer," Leo smirked from behind the counter.

"Jason tell your bread boy to stand down before I make him,"

"Is that an invitation?" Dark eyebrows wiggled in amusement.

"That is a threat," She growled.

"Well mark me down as scared and h—"

"Valdez I swear if you finish that sentence I'm putting you on wash-up duty for the next week."

A faint "you got it boss" followed Jason into the kitchen, where he allowed himself to smile. It was an ongoing amusement that Leo flirted with Reyna and in return she came up with increasingly terrifying threats.

"Jason, your sister is here to see you" Hazel said, gently shoving him out the way so she could take over rolling the pastry.

"Get the doughnuts ready for the fryer I'll be back soon, thank you!"

He maneuvered around a blushing Leo who had icing on his nose and a suspicious lipstick stain on his cheek, finally making his way to the confectioners stand.

"What's up loser?" He said by way of greeting.

"Hey you're only allowed to call me that if you come baring nice things." Thalia Grace frowned.

"I am nice things," He pouted.

"Not even on your best day." She snorted, "I want to know if you're coming to the gala this weekend. I need a date to steal extra bread-sticks for me."

"Why can't I just make you bread-sticks and we can sit in your lounge and watch bad reality TV?" He groaned

"Because I have to show face or the sponsors aren't going to sponsor. Besides you need a night out. You're gonna start smelling like bread if you don't take a break."

"It's insulting that you think I wouldn't want to smell like breadsticks."

She laughed at, that ruffling his hair, "Just be ready by seven. You better be wearing a suit."

And with that his sister had grabbed her daily croissant and cappuccino and vanished into the drizzling day.

Before he could make it back to his safe haven beside the ovens and marbled counter-tops a flash of black hair caught his eye.

Turning around he couldn't contain the grin that tugged at his lips; standing by the counter already staring intently at the newest creation was Jason's favourite customer.

"Hello Percy Jackson,"

"Jason," A dazzling smile revealed pearl white teeth and the tiniest dimple on a cheek the color of rich toffee.

"I see you've already found Neptune's Tridoughnut,"

A bright laugh escaped a wickedly beautiful mouth, "Oh I love that. How'd you come up with that one?"

Jason smiled softly, debating whether to tell the owner of the 5-Oceans Conservation Company that he was the muse behind all of his latest creations, hence the variations of green and blue.

Instead, as he did every time Percy asked, he lied, "My sister went to an opening ceremony for a new exhibit at the Education center all about Mythology so I thought I’d offer my services and well, they were a hit."

Piper who was walking past at that exact moment coughed something that sounded suspiciously like "Liar" but with a pointed glare she disappeared behind the counter.

"That sounds great. Guess I'll have to recruit you for all my functions," He winked, a small smirk playing at his lips.

Jason cursed his pale cheeks and hoped the blush he now sported wasn't too noticeable, "What can I get you besides a specialty doughnut?"

"Can I get one banana and walnut muffin, a dozen chic chips, and I'm gonna go see mom this afternoon so maybe a couple of caramel pastry twists and some blueberry muffins?"

"Sure. I guess Estelle is off her carrot cake faze?" He laughed, remembering how Percy had to stop at the bakery twice a week to grab carrot and pecan mini cakes just for his little sister.

"Ugh she's onto wanting fruit in absolutely everything now so my mom has been frantically buying boxes of peaches, strawberries and apples to cut up and send with her for lunch at school." Green eyes rolled in fake annoyance.

"Well if she likes fruit things maybe she should try the raspberry and orange pastry twists?" He pointed to a display stand piled with various pastries coloured by blackberry jam, apricot pieces, kiwi slices and mango syrup.

"I could kiss you right now!" Percy exclaimed rushing towards the display, unaware that the baker was frozen to the spot.

I could kiss you, could kiss you, kiss you, kiss...

Jason's brain had short-circuited, his neurons too busy having a dance party with his hormones to process the world.

I could kiss you.

A lazy, unconscious smile took over his face as he stood there in the middle of his bakery, arms slack, head lolled, and eyes crinkled.

"Jason?" A faraway voice called.

"Jason? Hello?"

And suddenly a hand was waving in front of his vision trying to get his attention.

He pulled himself out of his reverie, blinking back into existence, "Right yes the pastries"

"Didn’t get enough sleep last night?" Percy teased, slugging him softly in the shoulder.

He snorted at the implication, "Unfortunately I'm a bit of a grandfather. Sleep early, rise early."

"Oh guess you like morning activities then,"

He sputtered, head snapping up to stare into twinkling eyes, "N-no, I just meant—"

"I'm kidding Mr BakerMan," That brilliant, bright laugh again, "I know you're a homebody. Your sister likes to tell me how boring you are."

He huffed at that, "We'll see if she gets her pear tarts this weekend."

"Speaking of this weekend," A sly grin played at Percy's mouth, "Are you coming to the gala?"

"Yea," He sighed, "Thalia says she needs me to steal bread-sticks ."

Sea green eyes widened before Percy burst out laughing. In a matter of moments tears were streaming down his face.

If Jason wasn't so smitten with that gorgeous smile and those mischievous eyes he may have been inclined to laugh too. But Percy Jackson was a vision he half believed only his dreams could conjure.

When the laughter had mostly seized Percy wiped his eyes and managed to gasp, "That sounds exactly like something Thalia would ask. When we worked on the marine life project together she always stole the mints from every CEO’s office because she said they had enough money to buy a mint factory, they could afford to replace a single bowl."

"Yep, her life goal is to end capitalism. I swear if it wasn't for Annabeth, Thalia would be walking into office buildings with a sack like some reverse Santa Claus where she steals the office supplies and fruit bowls."

"Well I can't wait to see you stuffing your pockets with bread-sticks on Saturday so I guess I'll see you then," He gave another dazzling smile.

"Yea, and say hello to little Estelle for me. Tell me how she likes the pastries."

"Don't worry I'm sure I'll be back soon with a long list of request."

"Can't wait." He grinned.

Percy chuckled, "Me neither, see you Friday." And then he was gone.

Oh gods, Jason thought, how am I ever gonna survive Percy in a suit?

***

Spoiler alert past-Jason: you didn't.

[patandpran]

The Nuisance and the Handsome Prince - A Sarawatine Medieval AU - Chapter 17

Tine is an aspiring Squire who has been training his whole life to work alongside the Kingdom’s finest Knights. Sarawat is a Prince who, on the outside, seems fierce and unapproachable. He is disinterested in any of his royal duties, namely his Knight training. What happens when Tine is assigned to be the fierce and handsome prince’s Squire?

Find the Masterpost here Read on Archiveofourown here.

It was the Eve of the Knight Trials and Tine had never felt so unsure of his path. Finding out the truth from his Father was devastating but at least he had had the chance to see that his Father was alive. Tine’s Father wasn’t exactly well but a plan was now in place to help him escape. Tine felt his chest clenching with anxiety about what the future held. His own fate hung weakly but his own mortality was not the focus, getting his revenge was.

Tine could barely touch the stew that Fong brought to him. His appetite had been practically non-existent ever since he met with his Father a few evenings before. There was a part of him that wanted to tell Sarawat about the meeting but he knew that would lead to nothing good so he kept his lips sealed. This wasn’t especially difficult considering that Sarawat was all but ignoring him other than any necessary communication during the practices.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Fong murmured and sat at the end of Tine’s bed where the Squire was sitting with his dinner tray propped on his lap. “It’s important to get proper sustenance before a day like tomorrow.”

“I appreciate the concern, Fong.” Tine lazily dragged the ladle around the stew bowl. “But I’m going to need a lot more than mere sustenance to get me through tomorrow.”

“I would expect that the Prince is experiencing the same, if not more anxiety than you are.” Fong  shared, seeming like he wanted to prod something out of Tine but didn’t want to ask it outright.

“I’m not sure how the Prince is feeling.” Tine admitted and that reality stung as the words passed through his lips.

“I have heard that there has been a noticeable shift in your relationship.” Fong offered gently, seeming as if he was attempting to comfort Tine in some way.

Tine sighed, placed his tray on the side table and muttered, “The truth is I have no idea where we stand but it doesn’t matter anyway, especially with what’s going to happen…”

Fong’s brow furrowed in concern. Tine quickly realized that he had not made Fong partial to the plan, so in saying what he had just said, he had implicated his friend. He hoped that Fong would not inquire further but Fong’s eyes looked focused with curiosity.

Thankfully, a knock sounded on the door and Fong went to answer it. Tine had no idea who it might be but he guessed that it had something to do with either the plan or the Trials the next morning.

Fong opened the door to reveal Green and Pear who quickly entered the room, their hands both draped with garments. Tine’s eyes widened at their presence, unsure of what the meaning of it was, but happy to see more friendly faces in such a nerve-wracking time.

“We have your attire for tomorrow’s Trials.” Green explained as he neared the bed where Tine was sitting.

Tine furrowed his brow in confusion. “I thought I would just be wearing my usual Squire outfit.”

A mischievous smile was exchanged between Pear and Green as they set the materials down on the end of the bed. Pear explained, “The Prince had these made especially for you for the Trials. I would wear them if I were you.”

A blush immediately flooded Tine’s cheeks as he ran his hands over the fine materials of the garments that Sarawat had commissioned for him. Green watched Tine’s reaction with smug satisfaction but then a more serious look replaced it.

“I took the liberty of making some… adjustments.” Green shared and Tine quickly understood the true meaning behind Green’s words.

There was something going on within the Castle walls and while Tine was not exactly privy to all the details, someone with power had a similar goal to him and while identities still remained in the shadows, he knew there would be changes coming to the Kingdom soon. Something was being set into motion, even beyond his own plan and if he could help make the Kingdom a freer and more equal place, Tine would do whatever he could to make that a reality.

“That Prince of yours is going to do amazing tomorrow.” Green remarked, seeing the stress that Tine was dealing. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head.”

Pear giggled and Tine grumbled, “He’s not my Prince, Green.”

“That’s not what the whispers are saying…” Fong countered and Tine’s eyes widened at the accusation.

It seemed that what went on between he and Sarawat wasn’t as well kept a secret as they had thought. Pear, Fong and Green shared a knowing look between them and the three silently decided to give Tine his space to mentally prepare for the next day that was likely going to change everything.

Of course, Tine barely got two minutes of sleep that night. There were too many things that could go awry… Plus, the reality that he would likely never see Sarawat again after tomorrow created a pit in his chest that had the potential to swallow Tine whole.

+++++++++++

The cold air of the morning felt like it would chill Sarawat to the bone. He was already in the preparation Quarters by the field and he felt starkly alone without Tine there to help him get into his armour. It was early still, though, and the Prince didn’t mind the solitude to help prepare himself mentally for the challenges he was going to face in the hours ahead.

“Wat...”

The sound of Tine’s voice made Sarawat spring to his feet. He drank in the view of Tine wearing the outfit that he had described only in words to Green and the Royal Outfitter had created it in an even more exquisite way than Sarawat could have ever imagined.

Similar to the hooded robes from the Ball, Tine’s top was the deepest crimson red imaginable. His trousers were black as night itself but the part that made Sarawat’s heart almost stop right then and there was the golden brooch bearing his Wolf Insignia that Tine wore fastened to the left side of his chest. It looked as if it had always belonged there.

Tine noticed the intensity of Sarawat’s gaze and knew that it would not be a good idea to remain with the Prince alone for too long. He quickly turned and took up the Prince’s armour. “I think it best if we get you prepared.”

The Prince did not protest. He allowed his Squire to get him ready in silence but the tension between them was palpable.

+++++++++++++

The Trials began with a number of training exercises such as archery, Jousting, knife throwing and rescue tactic testing that all the Knights breezed through without even breaking a sweat. Sarawat had become noticeably stronger at knife throwing after working on it so avidly with Tine in their private training sessions and Mil had shot 10 bulls eyes in a row after training with Chat for endless hours.

Tine tried his best to show his silent support without being a distraction to Sarawat. He needed to focus on his own goal later on that day. Ohm seemed to notice the distance that Tine put between him and the Prince but his best friend did not actively comment on it.

The King, Queen and Prince Phukong sat on a raised platform, similar to the one that had been put in place during the Squire Trials, although this was much more of a formal occasion than that. The King and Queen wore their finest attire and Phukong had a look on his face the was practically unreadable, which was odd for such an expressive and positive person as the younger Prince. Tine found it a bit off but he wondered if the Prince was just worried about Mil and his older brother’s upcoming match.

The morning matches occurred at a pace that only added to Tine’s anxiety. Sir Man and Sir Boss had faced off against each other and Man had easily overtaken his friend. Of course, the fight ended with an amicable handshake between the two but Tine doubted the same would transpire between Mil and Sarawat.

Sarawat and Mil were the last match of the morning. Just before he took a step on the field, Sarawat turned toward Tine and asked, “Can I use your sword?”

Tine’s brow furrowed in concern. His hand hovered protectively over the sword that his Father had forged for him and him alone. There had been times that he lent it to Sarawat during their training sessions where Tine had noticed that Sarawat had become more confident in his skills. Tine wondered if this was why the Prince wanted to use his sword instead of his own.

“I want a piece of you with me out there.” Sarawat explained, his voice thick with emotion.

Tine’s breath hitched as he removed his sword from its sheath and handed it to the Prince, their fingertrips brushing against one another. The blade was balanced across Sarawat’s gloved hands and somehow it felt like the most intimate gesture that they had ever shared.

Tine was trusting Sarawat with his most prized possession. It seemed like the decent thing to do to somewhat make up for his plan. All that Tine could do before the Prince walked out to face Mil was murmur a quiet, “Good luck, My Prince.”

Tine hovered at the edge of the field, every fibre of his being struck with fear and worry about the outcome of the fight. While they did not need to defeat each other, Tine doubted that Mil was about to go easy on Sarawat, especially given their recent interactions. Both Sarawat and Mil wore helmets that resembled the animals that they had defeated for their ‘Coming of Age’ trials.

“A fair fight.” Mil murmured, sounding as if he were in a trance.

“A fair fight.” Sarawat agreed, as per tradition.

They both took a few paces away from one another and began to circle each other. It was Sarawat who raised his sword first and Mil spotted it and his eyes grew wide, noticing the matching design of his own sword. A rage bubbled up within him as he realized that the Prince was using his Squire’s sword in the fight.

At this, Mil charged Sarawat without a second thought, his sword raised high above his head. Just as Mil’s sword was about to make contact with his shoulder, Sarawat ducked out of the way, and dragged his sword in a low circle so it caused Mil to stumble out of the way. It was a move that Tine had taught him early during their private training.

Tine watched from afar as the battle between the two childhood friends began. While Mil had more experience and brawn, Sarawat was stronger at reading an attack and reacting appropriately. Tine watched with bated breath as the two Knight’s swords collided, filling the whole stadium with the sound of crashing metal. It was the sound that Tine relished most but, in this context, terrified him more than anything. He wished he could take Sarawat’s place instead in the match but he also knew that this fight was important for the Prince to take on for himself.

“Mil…”

Sarawat breathed out, seeing that his friend’s eyes were almost vacant each time that Mil tried to land an attack.

“You don’t have to kill me, you know…”

Sarawat meant it at a joke, hoping to take some of the edge off. He and Mil had always been able to be playful with one another but Sarawat barely recognized the man that was in front of him. It was as if something had broken inside of Mil and only anger remained. The Prince could not fathom what had inspired such a change inside his friend.

Mil ran toward Sarawat again and Sarawat raised his sword to stop the attack, his teeth gritting with effort. Mil’s eyes narrowed at the raised sword and Sarawat wondered what the hell was going on with his friend.

“Your sword belongs to…. a traitor.”

Mil practically growled before stumbling backward in reaction to the Royal Guard trumpet sounding inside of the arena. Sarawat wondered what the hell could be interrupting a moment like this but also was distracted by Mil’s bizarre choice of words. The two Knights lowered their swords, waiting for an explanation for the interruption.

“The prisoner has escaped.” The Head Knight cried out and the crowd hushed immediately. “And I know exactly who is to blame for this.”

Everyone on the field and in the stands stilled, waiting for the Head Knight to continue.

Tine did not think he was going to have act this early but it seemed like fate was calling him to action. He reached into the seams of his shirt and loosened the threads, his hand curling around the handle of the dagger that his father had given him and Green had so expertly concealed in his design.

The Head Knight charged onto the field, his sword held high and mighty in his hand. Lord Mil and Prince Sarawat were still a few paces from one another, paused in the midst of their match but neither of them dared to move a muscle as the Head Knight and his gentry flooded the stadium.

“Tine…”

Tine could hear Sarawat’s warning whisper but it was too late.

“Take Squire Tine into custody… now.”

The Head Knight’s order sounded out before Tine could even register it. But, thankfully, he was ready. He pulled the dagger from its sheath and pointed it, ready to defend himself. This had not been part of the plan but he was going to have to think on his feet.

When his weapon was registered by the crowd, there was a rippling of a gasp that flowed through the spectators. Tine did not have time to react to the fact that he was now, technically, a traitor of the Kingdom in everyone’s eyes but the few that knew of his true intentions.

The first member of the castle guard advanced upon Tine and he expertly avoided the attack. Even though all of his attackers had regular swords, Tine was able to keep himself at a distance with a simple dagger. The Head Knight grew increasingly frustrated at the ridiculous spectacle of all his Knights being bested by a ‘simple’ Squire.

Sarawat was shocked at first by the accusation but quickly made a move to defend the person he had grown to care for deeper than anyone else on the Earth. Mil grabbed the Prince’s wrist and simply warned, “He’s not who he says he is.”

“What do you mean?” Sarawat practically spat out, his voice trembling with something he couldn’t recognize. Was it rage? Was it fear? Why did it feel like everything he thought he knew was swiftly being stolen away?

Sarawat looked into his closest friend’s eyes and saw only a stranger in that moment. Mil’s gaze was cold and empty as if he was trying to keep every emotion far away from the surface in order to accomplish his goal which was unclear to the Prince. He had always thought of Mil as his most loyal friend but all he could feel now from the Lord was betrayal.

“How could you keep something like this from me?” Sarawat felt something inside of him shatter.

Mil reacted only slightly, a glimpse of what he was truly feeling bubbling to the surface and revealing itself. “I only wanted to protect you.”

The sound of steel clashing against steel pulled the Prince and Mil’s attention back to the fight that was happening only yards away from them. Sarawat cursed himself for being distracted by Mil, instead of racing forward to help Tine.

“Tine!”

Sarawat called out anxiously, momentarily pulling Tine’s focus away from his attackers, but Lord Mil had the Prince in his grasp. Sarawat was fighting to get away from Mil but his friend’s grasp was stronger.

“Wat… I’m sorry.”

The words felt empty and broken but Sarawat could sense that Tine was being sincere. The pause that Tine had taken to share that with the Prince cost him his freedom. The guards descended on the Squire like starved dogs being fed their first meal in months.

As the frenzy cleared, Sarawat watched in an empty daze as Tine was chained up by the Head Knight. The crowd cheered at the capture of the supposed traitor and it took a moment for Sarawat to realize he was howling in protest, the screams ripping involuntarily from his throat as Mil held him in place.

As Tine was dragged from the field, Sarawat had never felt more helpless. As soon as Tine dissappeared, Mil let Sarawat go and Sarawat turned to face his former friend. Sarawat was seething, “How could you let your Father do this? You know what Tine means to me.”

“He’s a traitor of the Crown.” Mil stated evenly, his tone emotionless.

With that, Sarawat raised Tine’s sword and charged at Mil. The crowd went deathly silent again, shocked by the Prince’s sudden attack on the Lord. The worst part, though, was that this time Lord Mil did not fight back. Mil let Sarawat scream in rage and deftly moved away from each attack but he never did raise his sword.

Sarawat let all of the emotions that he was feeling flow through his sword and into each attack he made on Mil. Until, finally, he made contact and the tip of his sword sunk into flesh. It was not a lethal blow but it was enough to make Mil fall to his knees in surrender.

The Prince had won the match. But at what cost?

Seeing Mil strewn on the field, his blood wetting the sand sobered Sarawat instantly. This was exactly what his Father and the Head Knight had always wanted. For their two sons to be rivals instead of allies and even though it had taken betrayal and blood, it seemed like their fate was to become enemies in the end.

Sarawat turned to face his Mother and Father. The King turned his cold eyes away from Sarawat but the Queen had a steady gaze focused on Sarawat, as if to try to reassure him that everything was going to be all right. Phukong had disappeared from the platform, likely fleeing to see Mil’s state as the Doctors dragged his unconscious form from the field.

Sarawat had never felt so alone, even though he was surrounded by subjects and people he had known his entire life…

In a daze, the Prince picked up the Wolf brooch that had fallen from Tine’s shirt. Sarasota’s breath hitched as it poked through his leather gloves and pierced his skin, letting crimson droplets fall to the sand of the Trials field like a dark omen…

[writingruna]

First Time

Summary: based on First Time Warning: character death A/N: I’m starting small to try writing again, I’m sorry it’s been so long

"Did you grow up in Sokovia?" Natasha asked quietly, sitting beside you on the ground of the carrier. You held his hand so tightly your knuckles had begun to whiten, your thumb tracing rapid circles on his skin. The silence that stretched on after her question did not bother you, but she did not leave. 

"Not Sokovia," you answered eventually. You wanted her to leave. 

"Russia, then?" You tore your eyes from the ground, eyes wide as they met hers. "I have been in America a long time now, but I remember Stalingrad." 

"Siberia, but I liked Sokovia more." Your thumb began to slow its circles. "The markets were bigger." 

The noise surprised you more than anything else. 

It wasn't just loud. It was close. Everything and everyone seemed to crowd close to you, pushing you through the market in a wave of bodies and voices. You couldn't remember what you'd come to the market for. 

You ducked away, pressing yourself against a wall and closing your eyes, trying to remember why you'd come. Blue eyes and a language you couldn't speak surprised you, and you stepped away from the man in front of you, shaking your head. 

"English?" You shook your head again. "Russian?" he asked, and you nodded slowly. "Are you lost?" he continued, now in your language instead of more of the cacophony that surrounded you in the market. "Do you need help?" 

"Pears." You remembered. "I need pears, but I can't…" 

"Speak Sokovian?" he finished for you, and you nodded, casting your eyes to the ground. You'd tried to learn. "I'll help." He took your hand and pulled you away from the wall. "What's your name?" 

"(Y/n)." 

"Pietro." He kissed your fingers as he said his name, but didn't let go as he lead you to the large, and obvious, fruit vendor.

"Not an easy place to grow up. Harsh winters," Natasha said, and a weak smile flickered momentarily across your lips. Harsh was an understand, and her own smile gave away her own awareness. "It breeds strong men, and stronger women." You titled your head in gratitude as she finished. 

"Indigirka Valley was a good teacher when I was young." You could see the surprise in her eyes as she listened. Your valley was not known for it's welcoming winter months. 

"Sokovian winters must have felt like vacation," she said. 

"Winters never bothered me," you agreed, moving your hand to rest on top of your intertwined hands as you continued to trace circles. "but it took time to get used to the rain. It did not rain much in Siberia."

Rain fell softly on the roof, the sound echoing around the small room. The rain had chilled the air outside, but it was warm beneath the blanket with you curled against him. Your eyes were closed, your breathing slow and quiet. Pietro skimmed his fingers softly across your cheek, brushing your hair away from your face. He traced gently down your neck and shoulder, not wanting to wake you but longing to somehow be closer to you. 

A cold breeze blew through the broken window and past the thin linens that served as curtains. Shivers ran through your body and he pulled the blanket more securely around your shoulders, tucking you closer to his side. 

Storms woke you the first months you lived with them, and it was always his bed you crawled into to fall back to sleep. Eventually, you slept through the gentle pounding on the roof, but you'd begun to start the night in his bed by then. 

But some part of him had learned. Now he woke when it began to rain, prepared to help you sleep again. Instead he just watched, at peace with the rain and his family. 

You shifted then, not quite awake, but no longer asleep, and curled close to him.

"Not many people leave Siberia." You could hear the unasked question in her voice, the same implications of guilt that had been endlessly thrown your way. Your thumb began to trace quickly again, the familiar feeling of his hand stifling your anger. "I imagine it wasn't easy." 

"Nothing is easy, but harsh winters breed strong women," you parroted her words and something akin to pride passed across her face. "I may have left much behind, but I found more." 

"The twins?" 

"Maybe we did not own much, but they had each other and I had them. It was enough for us." 

The air was warm and wet, but the grass beneath your backs was dry. Red mist drifted through the clearing where you all lay, tangling it's way up the trees as Wanda played with two small pebbles above her head. 

You rested against Pietro, watching both her and the dark sky above you. "She's getting better." 

"The things you've taught her have helped. She is more calm now." His hand ran absentmindedly through your hair, tracing your jaw as it did. "I am more calm now." 

"You mean you've slowed down?" His laughter filled the clearing and happiness radiated through you, warming you. 

"Anything for you, my love." 

Wanda's voice cut through the night before you could respond. "Did you see it?" she asked, excitement raising her voice. "The shooting star!" The red mist dissipated immediately and the clearing fell dark. She crawled to your side and rested her head on your stomach. 

No one spoke as sparks of light flitted across the sky. Pietro's hand left your hair and found yours. 

It felt like hours before the streaks stopped. Wanda stood first, a glow around her hands lighting the way back to where she'd left the thin blanket she'd wrapped dinner in to bring it to the clearing. Pietro sat up, pulling you with him, and started to stand. "I love you too, Pietro."

"From the outside looking in, it is easy to pity us. Apartments with no electricity, winters with no coats, mornings with no breakfast, and all of it with no parents, but we had each other and that was what we wanted. We were our own family." You paused, your thumb slowing its continuous circle as you dropped your eyes away from hers. "We were happy," you finished softly. 

"Do you regret any of it?" 

You saw it before he did. 

You lurched forward, running toward him as he fell. Hands wrapped around your wrist and jerked you to the ground. An otherworldly scream filled the air. It couldn't have been you. 

You fought against the hands holding you, kicking and punching the figure that held you. "Stop." A familiar voice. "He's gone. You're not. You've got Wanda." 

You collapsed to the ground, tears streaming unbidden down your cheeks. Natasha pulled you into her chest.

"No," you answered without hesitation, your voice stronger than it had been in hours. Your hold tightened weakly on the hand you still held. With a shaking breath, you finally looked down at the body beside you. His hand was cold. Fresh tears stained his suit as your body trembled and your chest ached. You let go of his hand, slowly tracing your fingers down his cheek as you spoke only to him. "I would do it all again."

[heavenbarnes]

ohh val in the 'my other ride is your wife' makes me think about being a deprived housewife forced to marry a man i have no interest in who cheats on me every other day and my only happiness is my best friend val and one day she asks if my husband has ever even made me cum and i shake my head sadly and she shows me the fucking time of my life

oh my fucking god, this is going to be very AU, very dramatic so don’t take life too serious x (it is also way longer than i expected)

“I know you’re not happy, my peach.” Val spoke, her soft voice cradled by the crackle of your fire place.

You frowned into your wine glass, swirling it silently as you looked into your best gal’s eyes. She was right, you were many things in life but happy was not one of them. You really only seemed to be happy in these moments.

The moments your best friend stood on your doorstep, bottle in hand with a knowing look. You let out a defeated sigh, looking to her with the eyes of a young puppy. You looked for guidance? For sympathy? You looked for help.

She reached out and took your hand, walking you to the french doors on the side of your penthouse apartment. You both walked onto the balcony, night air whipping a cool chill across your body. Val slung her arm around your shoulders and pulled you in tight.

“You’re so young, you don’t deserve to be made to feel this way.”

“But, I just-”

“No excuses, (Y/N). I’ve known you the longest time and if I know anything about you, you were born to run and this is standing still.”

You hid your face in her shoulder, knowing she was right. You used to be such a bright spark until you married Elijah. He had managed to drain all of your light, taken it all for himself and handed it out generously to the other women of this town. Val simply wanted to light that spark back inside of you, any way that she could.

“I’m just so scared of disappointing my family, I feel like if I leave him I’m failing.” You finally let a tear escape from your eyes, Val quick to catch it with the sleeve of her sweater.

“Nothing you do could disappoint them, they’ll be proud you aren’t lying any longer.”

You looked into those beautiful eyes, so round and doe like. Her button nose, the clean slope of your jaw. Your confidante without complaint. You slowly nodded your head, allowing yourself to believe what she was saying. Allowing yourself to shake off the the shame.

You looked to your left hand, touching the pear shaped diamond with your fingers. That ring alone cost more than your childhood home, and it was the polar-opposite of that place. It did no such thing as represent family, love, warmth. It felt more like a weight, weighing you down to a place you didn’t want to be in.

You caught eyes with Val again, your mind ticking over. She could tell you were thinking and as she worked to find out what you were thinking of, you caught her by surprise. You slipped the ring off your finger and threw it straight over the edge. A hard throw, too. A throw that said “I am more powerful than people give me credit for.”

Watching it soar into the night, over the rooftops and into the nothingness. You hoped someone less fortunate found that, pawned that, got themselves a better start. You getting rid of it was getting you a better start. You turned to gingerly look at Val, afraid of what she might say but were met with that gorgeous grin.

“I personally would’ve pawned it, but I’m still proud as fuck.”

You giggled softly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I don’t want his money, I don’t want anything from him.”

“And that is the girl I know and lov-”

The front door opening inside caught you both by surprise. You nervously turned to Val, you were ready to throw your ring but maybe not tell him to his face you wanted to leave him. You were going to need baby steps. It was like your best friend knew your thoughts before you voiced them.

‘Baby steps are fine, Rome wasn’t built in a day.” She whispered as she followed you inside.

Just her mere presence was enough to make your nerves and stresses melt away. You stepped to your husband, already feeling yourself shrink smaller in his presence. The difference between the two.

“Evening, my dear,” He smiled towards you. “Valerie.”

“My name is Valkyrie.”

“Not a real name.”

“It’ll be real when I make your wife scream it.”

“Sorry?”

“It’s real even if you don’t see it.”

The two were always in a stand off. A woman who couldn’t stand a weak man that hurt her best friend. A man who couldn’t stand a strong woman that took better care of his wife than he. You stood nervously in the middle twirling your hands over themselves.

“Well I’m ready to go to bed, are you leaving Valerie?”

She let out a deep sigh but nodded none the less, turning to give you the tightest hug. She graced past Elijah, stepping back slightly as she did. The air created by her movements caused a waft of scent to rise from his clothes.

“Eliza, didn’t take you for one to wear Chanel No. 5 perfume?”

Your eyes shot up between the both of them, knowing good and well what Val was implying. You knew her implications were correct also, too tired to fight over it any longer. Your gaze on your husband was waiting to see how he lied his way out of this one.

“It’s Elijah, and I don’t wear it but my client does.”

Her finger extended and came up to swipe at the collar of his business shirt. He ducked away from her but she still studied her digit carefully.

“Client also wears plum lipstick?”

“You need to leave.”

You saw your best friend to the door, giving her another hug before she departed. As you closed the door she heard the curt exchange between the both of you.

“I don’t want to hear excuses, I wan’t to go to bed.”

“Fine, but I- (Y/N) where is your ring?”

“M-must have left it by the sink.”

A house built on lies.

“I cannot take you anywhere!” Val giggled, leaning forward to wipe the soft-serve off your lip.

You giggled too, pushing your sunglasses up your nose and taking another long lick of the treat. The sun beat down on the both of you, a spot on the park bench by the water. You watched other people, sometimes making up life stories for them to help forget about your own.

Val wasn’t too focused on the people today, she was watching you. The way your tongue wrapped around the ice cream, molding it into different shapes as you licked your way through it. She felt herself swallow thickly, trying to tear her eyes away.

You stayed watching the people of your neighborhood, joggers, mothers, friends. What was happening to them and did any of them know what was happening to you?

“Ooh, Val! What about them?” You asked, snapping her gaze away from your tongue in action.

She followed your nod towards two men, stood with a younger brunette woman. The girl and the taller man were smiling, but the other man had more of a grimace on his face which switched when his companions looked towards him. Val took a swipe of her ice cream before speaking.

“He’s in love with his best friend, can’t say it cause he knows it’ll ruin the already standing relationship,” Val said very matter-of-factly, as if she’d already asked them. “Plus, it’s harder when the significant other is right there.”

“How long do you think he’s been in love with her?”

“I’m not saying it is her that he’s been in love with.”

Your eyes widened and you looked at your best friend over your sunglasses. She gave you a knowing smirk which threw you into a fit of giggles.

“Valkyrie said ‘gay rights!’ didn’t she now!”

Val tipped her head back, arm extending along the back of the bench to pull you into her. She’d never admit it out loud but when you two were out, there were times she’d make certain movements, say certain things, just to have the passersby think “are they dating?”

“Do you think other people look at us and wonder about our life stories?” You asked nonchalantly, bringing the cone back to your mouth.

“And think, ‘wow they’re so beautiful and talented I bet they’re on their way to break hearts’, or something?”

You let out a hearty laugh at her humor, leaning harder into her and nodding. You could always count on Val to brighten your eyes, put the light back into you.

“Or do they say, ‘that one, she looks like she is in a relationship where her husband actively cheats on her despite him never making her come once’ yeah?”

Val spluttered, coughing at the melted ice cream that got caught on the back of her throat. You hid your giggle behind your own treat, licking it quietly as she calmed down. She gave you an incredulous gaze, asking if what you were claiming was true. You nodded slowly.

“(Y/N) why didn’t you tell me this was a state of emergency!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, even when you wanted to cry she would bring you the sunshine. She pushed her own sunglasses down before doing the same to yours so she could look you in the eye.

“You mean he has never once made you come?”

“No, it’s usually just over when he does which is usually quite quickly.”

“I mean, I don’t know why I’m acting surprised.”

You chuckled again, nodding along with all that she was saying. You’d been aching to tell someone what was going on. This had haunted you a long time and you just knew that if anyone would side with you, it’d be Val.

“Have you ever come since you got married?”

“Yeah, else I wouldn’t be alive!” You explained. “I just do my own DIY’s.”

Val nodded slowly, relieved expression across her face. That expression was hiding what she was feeling inside. Of course she was relieved, but there was also a hot coil twisting tight within her stomach. The thought of you having to get yourself off, knees up with head in the pillows.

“Earth to Val, you there?”

She shook her head looking back to you. She saw your phone in hand, a text from him asking you to get home. She let out a sigh, standing from the bench and ready to drive you back. These times never lasted long enough. Once you got to the car, she lent on door looking at you across the vehicle.

“Tomorrow, be ready by 10 in the morning cause I’m picking you up.”

“Ooh, what are we doing?”

“I don’t know, but I will by tomorrow.

You smiled, accepting it simply cause Val said it. She could tell you she’d lead you into the woods in the middle of the night and you’d go cause she was your person.

“Out again? It’d be nice to have a wife who spends time with her husband!”

“I’m home all the time ready to spend time with you, where are you at those moments?”

“In the office!”

“Whose office?”

He looked at you in shock, had the timid wife finally bitten back? He didn’t answer your question, just rolled his eyes and stuttered a bit. There were several offices that he’d frequented recently, too many to remember.

The knocking at the door broke you apart, you moving to answer but were pipped by Elijah. He swung the door open, not having a moment to invite Val in as she was already crossing the thresh-hold.

“Valerie.”

“Jeremiah.”

You ducked your head out the bedroom door, smiling towards your best friend. She beamed at your gaze, giving you a small smile.

“I won’t be a moment!” You called to her, darting back inside.

Elijah cast his gaze up and down Val, taking in her appearance. Her baggy top, tucked into cut-off denim shorts. That paired with the ratty vans and denim jacket, not to mention the backwards cap.

“You dress like a young man.”

“And I fuck like one too.”

“I’m sorry?”

“And what am I supposed to do?”

“Maybe wear something a little tidier?” He offered, hand extending to flick back her jacket. “Rather than a shirt that says “My Other Ride Is Your Wife”, I guess?”

She gave him a deadly smile, pulling her jacket back across and raising an eyebrow. She wasn’t afraid of him.

“And where is the fun in that?”

Your stepping into the room cut your husband off before he could fight back. You gave Val an even brighter smile, taking in her outfit.

“You look so cool!”

Elijah simply rolled his eyes as Val darted a daring grin at him. She said the same about you, taking in your button up sundress and platform sandals.

“Are you ready to go?” Val took her car keys from her pocket and grabbed your purse for you.

You smiled graciously and nodded, trotting to her. She extended her elbow for you to loop your arm into. This was always Val’s power move, being the gentleman your husband never was. She knew how you ought to be treated, and she’d treat you as such.

“When should I expect you home?” Elijah asked from the door way, watching you head towards Val’s car.

“Sometime in the near future, don’t worry!” Val finished for you, earning a giggle and a smack to the shoulder from you.

She held your door open for you, a hand ushering you in before walking around to her side. She tapped her fingers against the top of the car, soon to be rolled down as you both drove, she knew you liked it that way. She looked over the vehicle, thinking to herself before raising her eyes to Elijah.

“Would you look at that, both of my rides in the one place.”

The comment ticked over in your husband’s head before he finally caught on to the reference. He could’ve asked you, everything Val does, she does for a reason. He opened his mouth to reply, but it was no use. Val had fired up the engine and the roar was loud enough to drown out anything he could’ve hoped to say.

Pulling into the parking of the diner, the dust flew up around the tires. You smoothed your hair down, a mess from the wind the coursed through it. You giggled quietly, imagining what you must look like after the 40 minute ride.

“Don’t sweat it, you always look pretty as a picture.” Val once again reading your mind.

You winked at her, back of your hand under your chin. It was her turn to giggle now, shaking her head as she left the car to come open your door. The diner was a nice escape from the heat outside, the air-conditioning wrapping you in it’s arms.

Finding yourselves a quiet booth at the back, you reached across the table to grab onto Val’s hand. She looked from the connection to your eyes, doing her best to take in what you were thinking. There was definite pain, but something else there was starting to make itself known. A feeling she thought you’d forgotten.

“I don’t thank you enough for everything you do for me, pegasus.”

“I don’t do those things for thanks, peaches.”

Your eyes lit up, squeezing harder on your best friend’s hand. You understood the term “ride or die” when you looked at that girl. The things you two had done together, had gone through together, will do together. From the time you stood staunch behind Val, as she came out to her parents. To the time you both cried together on your fire-escape when you first thought Elijah was cheating on you. 

There wasn’t a thing you two wouldn’t do for each other.

“I’ve spent a really long time looking for love,” You started, ducking your head to tuck a strand of hair back. “But I should’ve known I was looking at it all along.”

A gloss cast over Val’s eyes, her content smile glowing radiant on her face. She squeezed your hand right back, running her thumb over the skin. Sometimes your destiny isn’t waiting to be found, it’s waiting to be noticed. 

Your thoughts were broken apart by the waitress, bringing you both your orders. Thick slices of cherry pie were laid down in front of you, accompanied by a milkshake each. You both thanked her, quickly turning to dig into the meals.

A content silence drifted over the both of you as you ate, your eyes firmly fixed on your plate and Val’s somewhere else. Her gaze would constantly draw up to you, the way your lips wrapped around a fork. The way your hand would grasp your glass. She shifted her hips forward in her seat, taking another mouthful.

“This is delicious, almost as sweet as me.” You said to her, giving her your second sly wink of the day.

She shook her head, finishing her mouthful and dabbing her napkin to her lips.

“Hell will freeze over when we find something sweeter than you.”

“Too bad Elijah never cared to find out.” You gave a roll of your eyes.

Val’s nearly fell out of her head, incredulous look at the mere concept. 

“You’re saying he’s never-”

“Never gone down on me? That is exactly what I’m saying.”

“Once again, not sure why I’m surprised, but you poor girl.”

“I just want to know what it feels like before I die.”

“So you’ve never ever been eaten out?”

You shook your head before picking up your milkshake, taking a long sip from the straw. You pulled back and a dribble left your lip. It fell straight down, to the valley between your breasts. It rolled down a tad, before a long finger came to swipe it up.

You watched the way Val caught it, before bringing it back to her lips and wrapping them around it. You found yourself unable to look away, the way her tongue swirled around her digit and left it clean. Your cheeks again to burn, you lowering your gaze as if you weren’t meant to see something.

That same hand came up and under your chin, fingers tilting it back up to look your best friend dead in the eye.

“Y-you’ve always said you’d take care of me where he wouldn’t, right?” Your voice was so ginger, so quiet that you yourself could barely make it out.

“I want to hear you say those words, peaches.”

You sucked in a deep breath, taking her hand in yours and bringing her fingertips to your lips to press a kiss against each. Your eyes rose slowly to look deep into hers.

“Valkyrie, I want you.”

The car parked in the back of an overgrown field, the sun still streaming down hard. Your hand grabbed at the door above your head, your whole body stretched out and open. Val looked up at you from between your legs, hand sliding the thing material of your dress up your waist.

She quickly drew her eyes back down, the most devilish smirk you’d ever seen taking over her features.

“You’ve been wearing no panties this whole time? Had you planned this.”

“You say that like you’re wearing a different shirt.”

She shrugged her shoulders and giggled, earning a sweet chuckle out of you. Val finally allowed herself to take a look at your glistening cunt. She’d dreamed of what this looked like, what it smelt, tasted like. She wasn’t prepared for it to be better than imagined.

She pressed her lips to the start of your slit, pressing kisses all the way down to your entrance. You shuddered at the feeling, goosebumps rising despite the heat of the day. You allowed yourself to relax, knowing that Val would truly take care of you.

“Pegasus, that feels so nice.”

She hummed to herself, darting her tongue out slightly to taste you. A long stripe right from your entrance to your clit. You cried out, one arm coming out to take the hat off her head and grab onto her hair. She carried on, her tongue moving gently against your clit to get you worked up. You didn’t know anything could feel this good.

You lifted your left leg, draping it over her shoulder whilst your other foot was firmly planted on the floor. Val gripped your left thigh, kneading at the soft skin and pulling you even closer. You involuntarily bucked your hips into her mouth, only encouraging Val further.

Any sign that you were enjoying this as much as her, drove her absolutely wild. She’d dreamed of this moment for a long time. She would have never acted this way unless she’d heard it from you first, there was never any overstepping. She dove her tongue into your wetness and flicked it up, earning a cry from you.

The sounds were sweet music to her ears, getting to hear what you sounded like when you were truly and properly being pleasured. She pulled her mouth away for just a moment, running two fingers along you gently. She dipped the tips in slowly, moving past each knuckle until she had them deep in you.

You cried out, gripping onto her harder as she filled you. She moved her hand gently at first, speeding up at your command. Your commands were only quivering moans of “yes” and “please” and “Val” but they meant everything to her.

She brought her tongue back to your clit, continuing her motions against the most sensitive nub. You ground your face down against her, working hard to chase any of the pleasure you could. She was so good to you, curling her fingers up against that spot and flicking her tongue just right.

“Oh, Valkyrie!”

“That’s it, baby,” She pulled away for just a second. “Say my name.”

You called it out again, body tensing as you rode her fingers. Her eyes flickered from your pussy to your face, watching the sweet faces you made as she wracked you with pleasure. Chest tightened with each flick of her tongue, curl of her fingers. You gripped on as hard as you could, as if you were scared of slipping away.

Her laps wrapped around your clit, sucking firmly on the nub and making your back arch. You couldn’t believe you’d been missing this, your husband almost deserving a sentence for keeping you away from this. You rolled your eyes back, Val’s name slipping off your lips like prayer.

You couldn’t see from your angle, but her hips were moving steadily against the edge of the seat. The seam of fabric in her shorts was rubbing nicely against her clit, spreading the wetness you were creating in her panties. She was a generous lover, making sure you were well cared for before even thinking of herself.

Your thighs tensed around her head, toes curling and your head pressing back into the seat. You tugged at her hair, earning the most rewarding moans from her lips. Her fingers sped up, scissoring inside you slightly as her tongue never relented. That heat rising within your belly was start to spread, the feeling dissipating as it was readying to leave your body.

“Valkyrie, you’re gonna make me come.”

“Come in my mouth, pretty baby.”

You let out a strangled cry as she removed her fingers and replaced them at your entrance with her tongue. She rolled it round easily, reading to catch each drop of your sweetness. You tightened, body rising up before the clouds inside you opened. A sweet cry of her name sounded as you came for her, all of the tensions inside of you seeming to melt.

She never let up on the motions of your mouth, your thighs in her hands as she worked eagerly to give you the best time of your life. Her head moved wildly, your hips bucking up much the same. You saw white and you saw stars, feeling your head spin with the amounting pleasure.

You let yourself come back to earth, hand placed over your heart. You looked up slightly to see Val licking her lips, before placing her fingers in her mouth to get the last taste of you. You took her wrist in your hand, pulling yourself up and into her lap, once she’d shifted.

You wrapped one arm around her neck, pulling her face to yours for a kiss. It was more than a kiss in that moment, it was a release. She held onto your waist for dear life, never wanting to let you go again. You held her to you, feeling her heart beat against your chest.

You hadn’t even noticed in the time you’d been out there, the sun was on it’s way to setting. You both pulled back from the kiss, looking out at the open field towards the purple and orange sky. You sat in Val’s lap, her arms still snug around you and yours around her.

She nuzzled into your neck, breathing in your scent and holding it in her memories. You looked out as if looking at a new world, for this would be the start of a new life.

“Honey,” You whispered to her. “I’m home.” 

[tyrantasaur]

g i l d e d ◇ s p i r i t s

Handing off his hat and gloves to a waiting footman, Wesley strolled into the opulent entrance hall of the Montgomery house, the sound of a servant moving his automobile at his back. He didn’t often take notice of the decorations within the grand houses he frequented, but today he was taken with the golden atmosphere fostered by glittering crystal, warm tinted bulbs, gold accents, shining marble, and cheerfully colored paper. It was so much warmer than his own home, which was papered in all dark jewel tones, dark stained mahogany, wrought iron, and burnished gold.

The foyer was empty, and the distance between the front vestibule and the large gilded doors that led into the ballroom at the very heart of the Upper East Side mansion seemed to take longer than it should. The hall was filled with a strange pressure and the muffled hum of human activity. The closer he drew the more he could feel the anticipation swell and when the footmen swung the doors open, it was like popping a cork from a bottle of champagne. Bombarded by the frenetic uptempo jazz, the crush of a hundred voices vying to be heard over each other, the laughter and the clinking of glasses, Wesley grinned as he let the sounds, sights, and smells wash over him.

Meticulously uniformed servants wove in between lavishly attired partygoers; women in fringed and beaded dresses at scandalous lengths fox trotted across the floor before a veritable orchestra with men resplendent in black, blue, and white. The air was heavy with the scent of perfumes, illicit champagne and hard liquor, cigarette and cigar smoke, and the crush of human bodies. The energy in the room was the very essence of life, and it was heady for someone who spent so much time on his own. It was easy to slip back into the fray, to push aside everything that had happened in the past few years and let the intoxicating call of the modern atmosphere convince him to cast aside any thought of tomorrow and to care only for tonight.

“Atherton! Atherton, Old man, where have you been?” Wesley turned as someone shouted his name. A man with dark, slicked hair and a newly tailored black dinner jacket drew close, clasping Wesley���s hand and clapping him on the back. Lawrence Henderson’s personality could be summed up with the smarmy grin that danced across his face as he shoved a glass into Wesley’s hand.

“Busy with work, my friend. Some of us like to keep busy with maintaining the family coffers rather than depleting them.” Wesley took a reckless gulp, draining his drink in one go, dropping the empty glass on the tray of a passing waitstaff. “Some of us prefer to keep profitably busy.”

“What a drag that sounds. I also resent the implication that I have not been hard at work! I’ve been keeping myself busy, even if the profits are a little less...monetary. There are far too many unsatisfied wives in this city and I am willing to put in the noble effort to alleviate their plight.” Lawrence stroked a finger along his pencil thin mustache.

“Laurie, you are positively mad, bad--”

“And dangerous to know. Careful, I think he might actually be flattered by the comparison. Believes himself to be darkly irresistible and Byronic,” a cutting female voice spoke behind them, over emphasizing the syllables to punctuate her sentence. The sharp scent of Habanita proclaimed her identity, and the pair turned to meet the piercing blue gaze of Sylvia Pearce, whose face had recently been plastered all over the society papers. Peerlessly glorious in a white dress with pearl and gold beadwork and a golden tiara nestled in her golden hair, Sylvia turned sleepy eyes up at Wesley, extending an ungloved hand dripping with pears. Wesley caught up her hand and kissed her fingers obediently.

Lawrence wrinkled his nose. “Sylvia, how could you?” The dandy affected a wounded look. “I’ll forgive you if you dance with me.”

The blonde looked him up and down with the near revulsion. “You gotta have an edge to even ask. Dry up,” she replied in a glacial tone. “Wesley, you may ask me to dance,” Sylvia’s tone sweetened and she pursed her painted lips into a coquettish smile and looked up at him through her lashes.

“Ah, well,” Wesley laughed at Laurie’s expression. “I would be most honored, Sylvia, and am truly keen to dance, but I must first find my gracious hosts. Laurie, I have something I need to ask you.”

The smile was frozen on Sylvia’s face as her eyes flashed in anger. She was very much displeased by his response, but appearance was everything, so she shrugged and lifted her chin. “I didn’t say I’d accept if you did,” she returned with enough confidence to not sound petty, and turned on her heels to saunter off in search of another beau.

“Lord, Wesley. Why would you pass up the chance to tame the little bearcat? What a chassis! What fire!” Lawrence whistled, tossing his arm carelessly over Wesley’s shoulder. “Ciggy?” He selected a cigarette from the proffered case and held it between two fingers without pausing to light it so he could reach out to grab a drink from another passing tray. “What did you want to ask me, by the by?”

“Ah, well...come round for dinner tomorrow?” Wesley asked absently, scanning the crowd in search of at least one of the Montgomerys. “Winnie is yearning for company.” He felt the signature buzz of mage’s energy and looked over his shoulder to see if an acquaintance was nearby. Most of the people gathered here had no more magic than your average stage magician, with a few notable exceptions. This energy signature didn’t feel familiar; it felt a bit unrestrained, almost chaotic, and--then it was gone, and Cecil was grasping his hand, Vivian leaning in for a kiss on the cheek, and his attention snapped back.

[hamlets-ghost-zaddy]

queen of peace

Part 4/10 Shifty Powers x Reader

A heavy snow blankets Aldbourne Friday night, but you find Shifty on the front stoop, his tracks trailing behind him, bright-eyed, red-cheeked, but right on time. Always on time.

“You must be absolutely frozen,” you exclaim, ushering him and slamming the door behind him, choking the winter chill before it can sneak in. “Where’s your scarf? And your hat?”

Abashed, Shifty allows you to take his Army-issue tank-jacket, replying, “Well, our supply officer hasn’t gotten them in yet, and it seems wasteful to go buy one when they should be coming in any day now.” You could appreciate that: you’ve felt your coin purse lightening for the past month with the demands of holiday spending.

Still, you frown. “I don’t think the Army wants you getting frostbite, though.” Without needing to be instructed, he follows you through the sitting room, dining room, and hangs a right into the workshop. You pull down his work from last time—an old scrap of muslin littered with his shaky attempts at a whip-stitch—and the spare button tin, adding, “Stitching or buttons today?”

“Buttons, if you don’t mind. Mine keep popping off only a few days after I fix ‘em,” he replies, accepting the offered muslin before digging out his compact sewing kit from his breast-pocket. “And maybe they think frostbite will toughen us up a little? It might be a new training tactic Sobel has discovered to help us beat the Germans.”

You eye him, eye his smile, turned up at the little joke, and want to ask about Sobel, how things are going with him. Shifty never outright gripes about Sobel, not like George or Allen Vest, but you’ve gathered from his fleeting comments that his upheld optimism—his policy of goodwill—stretches to breaking with Captain Sobel. Yet, is it your place to ask? Is that something a friend asks after? Are you even friends? You settle for a safer response: “Your buttons probably need more anchoring, or you’re using the wrong thread.”

Shifty nods, and follows you to the worktable. You demonstrate different techniques of anchoring a button on his scrap of practice muslin, before setting him to his work as you return to George Luz’s trousers. You hemmed one pant-leg after breakfast, over your fourth cup of tea of the day, and you wanted to finish the other before the end of Shifty’s lesson, hoping he’d play delivery boy for you.

“What are you doing for Christmas?” Shifty asks, threading his needle. He’s gotten faster at it over the past month.

“Oh,” you begin, patting around your mind for an acceptable lie. Truthfully, beyond Margaret’s Christmas Eve tea and Christmas mass, you’re doing very little. You made Mother and Margaret a few little baubles, waiting for the money from the nurses’ orders to come in before deciding if you could buy Mother the tea kettle she’s been mooning over, but beyond that, gifts would be little, too. You settle on a fraction of the truth: “Well, since moving from London and my father, he, um . . . well, we don’t really celebrate. Mother doesn’t seem to have the energy for much on Christmas.”

Shifty nods, his lips twisting in a frown. “Do you want to celebrate?”

Under his sad eyes, pity softening them, you squirm, scrambling to justify: “O-of course, it’s just that money…um, we can’t.” And God, you hated that word—money—it makes you sound wretched, someone who really does deserve kind-hearted Shifty’s pity; someone who can’t take care of herself. You try your utmost to not let anyone, not Margaret, not Shifty, not even Mother, realize how truly tight things are and you had admitted it to him. Why did you admit it? you internally demand, and grab for the first distraction you can: “You’re sewing your sleeve to the muslin.”

“What?” Shifty squawks, jerking his attention away, easing a physical weight from your shoulders and you breathe a quiet sigh. You offer Shifty the little silver scissors for thread, assuring him it’s a common enough mistake—‘I did it all the time as a little girl’—and once he’s making tentative stitches on his muslin again, an embarrassed, pursed-lip smile glowing on his face, you allow yourself to grin down at George’s pants.

You resume hemming and, hoping to avert returning to the previous topic, you ask, “What does your family do for Christmas?”

“Gee, what don’t we do?” Shifty asks enthusiastically, apparently forgetting he’s supposed to be embarrassed, his expression opening wide. He sets aside his sew in his enthusiasm. “All the Powers relatives, my Pa’s side, gather up at Granny’s house for the whole week of Christmas to New Years, and we go out and chop down a tree, decorate it and the rest of the house endlessly, roast chestnuts and the game us boys shoot during the day. Pheasant, duck, goose; Granny’s a magician at cooking them so they’re the best thing you’ve ever tasted. I usually help Ma with her cookies, and my Auntie Gertrude with her pies—pies of all sorts: apple, pumpkin, rhubarb, pear. Oh, and I can’t forget Uncle Floyd and his famous mashed potatoes.” He winks. “You’ve never tasted nothin’ until you’ve tried what that man can do with a potato.”

Shifty loses his train of thought then, his eyes growing murky as he sinks into memory and your heart twists just to look at him. He stares at some vague point in the workshop, but you’re sure he’s seeing his uncles and aunts and cousins, he’s smelling the magnificent perfumes of cooking wafting from his Granny’s kitchen. Quietly, you ask, “Is this your first Christmas away from home?”

He blinks once, twice. You watch his senses return, watch his eyes refocus on you, and your heart twists—maybe fractures a bit, adding another crack to the patchwork already fissuring it—that the excited light of recollection doesn’t rekindle. “Um, yeah,” he confirms softly.

You consider taking his hand, you consider squeezing his fingers together to assure him that, though you are a poor substitute, you’re here for him.

Yet, before you can weigh the implications of that gesture—if it’d read as anything beyond friendly—Shifty pointedly returns to his button practice, nodding to George’s trousers as he does. “What are you working on there?”

“Oh, George Luz’s trousers. He needed them hemmed, and I actually need to get them back to him.” Head bent over the trousers, sliding out straight-pins from a freshly sewn hem, you don’t see Shifty’s lips pull into a frown, his shoulders hiking, rigid and stiff. You continue: “Actually, would you mind horribly delivering them for me?”

“Of course, I’d be happy to oblige,” he replies, and you frown at the flatness of his words, the automated quality. Before you formulate a question—the right amounts of casual, innocuous, and inquisitive—your Mother trots in from the kitchen, fixing Shifty with a radiant smile.

It’s a smile that used to be a staple of the London atelier, her eyes crinkling into winking crescents—back when she had every reason to smile with unrestrained excess, to smile and not worry about economizing the energy it spent—and it has been coaxed out over the past month and a half through virtue of Shifty’s presence (or so you’ve deduced). “Hello, Darrell, darling,” she chirps, setting down her loaded tea tray.

You eye the tin of biscuits nestled on it—a tin of biscuits you don’t remember Mother having on her shopping list—and you clamp your lips to keep from asking and embarrassing her.

“Hello, ma’am,” Shifty replies, popping to his feet, submitting to Mother kissing both of his cheeks before offering his assistance with the tea. He asks every week, Mother always delightedly insisting ‘I’m quite capable, thank you, darling,’ though you know from Shifty’s smile that he’s aware of how happy it makes Mother that he’d think to ask. Shooed back to his place the worktable, Shifty begins to your Mother, “Oh, I almost forgot! I got something for you; I asked Ma to send it for you.” He fishes a little jar from his breast-pocket. The clear glass allows you to see the pale-yellow paste inside. “I know it looks unpleasant, but it has turmeric in it and my Granny swears by it. If you put this on like lotion, it should help the aches and pains in your hands.”

Mother blinks once, twice, before her smile blossoms—all white teeth, and twinkling-crescent eyes. Watching her graciously accept the gift and subjecting Shifty to another round of cheek-kisses, you allow yourself to pretend you had taken his hand, you had assured him he isn’t alone on this side of the Atlantic, and that the fond smile he currently wears is for you.

(But, you think, desperately grabbing for a ploy to buoy your dark thoughts, surely this gift is a good thing? Surely it proves Shifty is your friend? After all, what is he, if not a friend, when he brings gifts to your mother?)

. . .

Margaret finds you outside the cookware shop, nose pressed in a highly undignified, indulgent moment of ogling, squinting through the frost-kissed window at your Mother’s tea kettle (well, not really her tea kettle; the money from the nurses’ wages had come in, but it didn’t allow for any superfluous spending like a tea kettle after all). She pounces with a: “Just who I was looking for!”

Squawking and stumbling back from the window—nearly plopping into a snow bank—your arms pinwheel before latching on Margaret’s shoulder. “Margaret!” you exclaim at her satisfied grin. “Are you trying to scare me to death?”

“Of course not,” she assures, not in the least repentant. If anything, her grin has stretched wider, the she-devil. “Because then I couldn’t draft your help.”

“What possibly for?” you ask, straightening the hem of your coat and brushing off a few stray snowflakes. For good measure, you readjust your stocking-cap. “What mischief are you cooking up? I don’t want nor need you dragging me into anything.”

“Mischief? Nothing of the sort,” Margaret assures unconvincingly. “I only talked Father out of the Christmas Eve tea—”

“What?” you squawk, “But, Margaret, I have everyone’s gifts ready and the cakes—”

“But we’re to host the parish’s Christmas Eve party for the American soldiers!” She bounces on the balls of her feet, curls swaying around her face quite fetchingly. You eye them darkly, finding the fetchingness utterly hateful.

“How on earth did you manage that? What happened to the church’s community room? Did you burn it down?” You squint at her.

Rolling her eyes, she clicks her tongue. “Of course not, but there was a bit of a booking conflict. The Christmas Eve Party for the London orphans needed to be somewhere, too, and I just so happened to mention to Father that hosting a party at such a convenient location like our house, right in the middle of the village, might foster more friendliness between the Americans and the locals. It is the season of goodwill and peace to all men, after all.”

You decide against breaking it to her that there’s a war on, and goodwill and peace might be hard to come by, opting instead to point out: “Where are you going to get the things to decorate for a party? Almost all the shops are picked over.”

“Easy,” Margaret replies, stretching the word and even winking. You scowl. “I’ve cabled up to the American headquarters and they thought the party is such a good idea that they offered to donate decorations. In fact, some of the boys are delivering it tomorrow, which is where you come in.” She playfully taps your shoulder even as your stomach lurches at the mention of American boys, finally confronted with the source of your disconcertion: a party with Shifty; a Christmas party with mistletoe and Shifty, no less. Oblivious, Margaret continues: “Would you be a dear and come conduct the decorating? I’d only steal you away for the afternoon.”

Though every instinct in you hollers to refuse, to decline attending the actual party, while you’re at it, Margaret wears her most charming of smiles and you know you only have one option. “Well . . . I guess.”

. . .

You’re barely through the door when Margaret springs, trumpeting: “You’re here! Finally! You must help me face down the hoards; they’re going every which way, and I simply cannot make sure everything is being done correctly!” You raise your eyebrows at Margaret, her usually pristinely fluffed hair disheveled into a great gnarl, before peering around her shoulder. Her family’s sitting room is awash in brown-uniformed boys—American soldiers putting baubles on a real tree, American soldiers cutting out paper chains of angels, American soldiers arranging garland on the fireplace, up the staircase railing, around the archways into the dining room and kitchen. You return your attention to Margaret, blinking. She reads the expression, sighing. “Yes, I know; it’s a monstrosity. Help me, would you?”

Grinning, you ask, “Where do you want me?”

Shoulders sagging in relief—you wonder if any of the boys asked Margaret for instructions before blindly embarking on a decorating rampage—Margaret briefly rests her forehead on your shoulder. “Bless you.” Drawing in a noisy breath through her nose, she straightens, calling. “Skip? Would you help y/n with the ladder and go see about putting up the mistletoe and garland on the front door outside? Then ribbons and wreaths on the lamppost and fence?”

A brown haired young American—his face a study in angles, giving the impression of puckishness—materializes from the activity, answering the name of ‘Skip.’ He nods at the instructions, eyes igniting at the word ‘mistletoe,’ while your eyebrows steadily climb. “Wow,” you breathe, “The Americans really fixed us up, huh?”

Margaret shrugs, smile bemused. A crash, a glass shattering, and a round of colorful curses sends her scurrying away, leaving you to stick out a hand to Skip. “Good to meet you. Looks like we’re project partners for the afternoon.”

Shaking your hand, he returns, “Nice to meet you, too, and even nicer of you to sign up for the pandemonium.” He juts a chin to the source of the crash: a short, Italian-looking soldier standing over a shattered punch bowl with a guilt reminiscent of a puppy piddling on the good China rug, Margaret turning a steadily more concerning shade of red nearby. Adopting a conspiring grin, Skip asks, “Should we evacuate while we still can?”

“Probably for the best,” you agree. Once you and Skip identify the boxes with decorations for outside, haul them to the garden, and fetch the ladder from the shed, you make the executive decision to begin with the lamppost and fence. “Seems like the easier of the two tasks,” you reason, Skip eyeing the eave above the front door with the same trepidation you feel on your own face. You don’t want to begin thinking about the amount of wire, rigging, and finagling it’ll take to fix the mistletoe up and still allow for the door to open.

Skip proves to be a remarkably competent and amusing project partner, beginning with observations about how nippy England is, but that it’s really nothing compared to upstate New York (“sorry to belittle the ferocity of your winters, I’m not saying I don’t appreciate how quickly I lose feeling in my nose and toes, but the snow is up to here at home right now!” He gestures to ear-height and you giggle, unsure if he’s serious but amused by his wide-eyed gravity nonetheless).  Perhaps to punctuate this point—though it only succeeds in cementing your opinion all boys are idiotic, regardless of nationality—he regales you with a tale of swimming the Niagara (“the river, not the falls,” he assures. “I’m not as dumb as I look, you know”).

(You politely don’t respond to that).

It’s getting on to four when you declare the fences and lamppost satisfactorily festive, the weak winter sun begins dipping toward the horizon. The hour, it seems, calls a little gang of Americans soldiers from Margaret’s house. They look delightfully warmed, you observe jealously, from spending the day inside. You stamp your feet and scrub your hands on your forearms, as Skip calls: “Hey guys! Headed back already?”

“Yeah, don’t want to give Sobel a ready-made reason to give us shit,” replies one of the boys, who Skip introduces as Alex Penkala, before touching his hat to you. “If you’ll excuse the, uh, expression, ma’am.”

“Don’t worry, Maggie tells me y/n is friends with Luz,” Skip says, slinging a chummy arm over your shoulder. You don’t mind it. “She’s heard worse language and idiotness—err, idiocry?”

“Idiocrity?” offers the red-headed American; you’ll learn later his name is Donald Malakery, and have to hurriedly pinch your nose to keep from snorting in a very unladylike way. “Idiocrasy?”

Sucking his teeth, Skip shakes his head. “Hmm, still doesn’t seem right. Do you think it’s even a word?”

“Where’s Web when we need him, huh?” Penkala asks. “The only time he’d come in handy.” The other two boys snort, voicing their agreement with smiles splitting their faces. It takes a few minutes of shooting the shit about this Web fellow before one of them—Malarkey—seems to remember they meant to collect Skip and be on their way.

Apologizing for leaving you with a half-done job, Skip grips your shoulders solemnly, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Listen, Maggie says we’re playing charades at the party, and you’ve gotta promise me you’re going to be on a team with us.” He gestures to Penkala, Malarkey, and himself.

“We need someone with a brain on our team,” Penkala offers. Malarkey aims an elbow jab at his ribcage. “Ow,” he mutters, though his smile belies any regret for the comment.

Laughing, and offering a gratuitous agreement—Skip asked out of polite inclusivity, and you know he’ll forget by the party—you wave them off with a smile, wishing them a good evening. Watching their shadows recede into the growing twilight, you dance from foot-to-foot, trying to encourage warmth back into your limbs while also dawdling mightily on the inevitable: putting up the mistletoe.

You eye the front door’s eave apprehensively.

In a purely theoretical sense, you are the woman to tackle and triumph over this damnable mistletoe conundrum. You’ve rigged shift dresses to lie flatteringly over chesty woman, you’ve created hourglass figures from the flattest of silhouettes, you’ve broadened a boy’s shoulders into a man’s; you can say, without arrogance, that you’ve worked a fair share of miracles. But, in a purely realistic sense, you feel conquered by the mistletoe before even beginning.

Puffing out a sigh, sending a wisp of your hair fluttering, you march smartly to the ladder Skip slogged out of the shed. Deciding a sensible starting point would be to at least inspect your canvas, you haul yourself up one step, two, three, and—“Don’t you dare go any higher without someone holding your ladder!”

Your heart restarts, you catch your breath, startled from your lungs, and check over your shoulder to see Shifty hurrying along the lane, worry darkening his face. He’s still not wearing a hat or scarf, you notice. The other boys, you remember, sported homemade or store-purchased winter wear (unless the American Army suddenly indulged in pompom stocking caps, like Malarkey’s, or yellow and black scarves reminiscent of a bee, like Penkala’s). Maybe he’d like them for Christmas? You catch yourself thinking. You physically shake your head to dispel the thought.

“Don’t shake your head, all obstinate; no, ma’am,” Shifty laughs, halting at the base of your ladder, gripping it with his steady hands, grounding you. “Ladders can be awfully dangerous.”

“Really, Shifty—” you protest, but it feels weak and more obligatory than pointed. A little candle of warmth has kindled in your chest at the concern lacing his voice. You know you’re foolish, selfish and silly, but you can’t help preening under his attention. “Well, alright, I suppose if you’re holding the ladder, would you mind passing up the mistletoe?”

“Mistletoe?” Shifty repeats, tone edging on awkward.

“Yes, it has pointed leaves and oh—” you begin to explain, interrupted by its presentation at your side. Casting a smile to Shifty, accepting the mistletoe and climbing the last few rungs of the ladder, you briefly glimpse his face, pinker than a moment before. Digging steadying fingers into the top step of the ladder—more to keep you from whipping around and minutely studying Shifty’s expression, deducing what it could possibly mean—you inspect the eave. Multiple nails from decorations’ past litter it as well as a lip in the molding that attaches the eave’s roof to the house; its idle for anchoring mistletoe. “Do you have the same tradition about mistletoe in the States?” you call down.

Momentarily, you wonder in horror at your own daring.

“Um, what—what tradition is that?”

“Oh, well,” you begin, pausing to gather your courage. “If two couples are caught underneath, its tradition to kiss.” You lean against the ladder, patting a wary hand along the eave to check for more nails.

Perhaps it’s the unaddressed kiss, perhaps it’s the lingering longing to clasp his hands—his perfect hands, callouses and all— in yours, perhaps it’s his lack of hat and scarf and the uncertainty if you ought to make them for him, perhaps it’s the persistent speculation of if he’s giving you a gift and what he means by it—going around giving a girl a Christmas gift—but the words are from your mouth before you’re sure of why: “You know, a lot of local girls are going to be at the party—Margaret said she’s inviting almost everyone. Are you thinking of catching anyone under here?”

You’re too much of a coward to look back at him, too much of a coward to break the following choked silence, and, as you walk home well into the evening gloom, Margaret having insisted you fill your belly with hot chocolate and fresh ginger snap cookies, you decide it’s for the best. It’s better to paint yourself as chummy—chummy like Skip, arm-thrown-shoulder and everything—as a friend, who Shifty can confide any secret pining to than delude yourself. Than trick and hurt yourself with thinking his concern or his blushes mean anything beyond Shifty being, well, Shifty.

  Too kind for his own good.

tag list: @maiden-of-gondor, @medievalfangirl, @gottapenny, @wexhappyxfew @mayhem24-7forever

[eerythingisshaka]

Play Though?

(Dad!M’Baku x Reader)

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N:  This kind of came to me from the movie Claudine with Diahann Carroll?  The characters are gonna have the same sort of attitudes as the main one in that movie.   A relationship that isn’t a storybook one, swept off of your feet one, but still good.  Who wants that perfect love story anyway?

So, Reader is a single parent and one day in the park meets someone that steals her concentration.  The rest is below...

You rub your temples as you hear the clatter of metal and plastic banging around in your brain.  Throbbing pain emanates from your skull as you get up and head to the kitchen, walking over the land mines of hot wheel cars, Legos, and army men figures scattered about your living room carpet.

“Mama!  I have a big race to do!  Wanna see?”  The gleaming, round faced, mahogany toned golden child that is your son asks.

You put on a weak but sincere smile as you pour some water to and shake a couple aspirin in your hand.  “I do want to see, Xavier.  Just give mama a minute to get a drink first.”

“Ok.  Mama, can I have some juice?”  Xavier gets up, trotting into the kitchen to the fridge.

You stop mid sip, reaching out to keep him from opening the fridge.  “What did I say about getting something before I tell you to?”

Xavier’s large brown eyes widen even more as he knows what to say.  “You say to wait.”

Nodding, you continue.  “Wait for mama to say yes or no.  Now get off the door and ask me again.”  You cap the aspirin and put it in the cabinet.  

Xavier fidgets with his hands, spinning in a circle as he spoke.  “Can I have some juice mamaaaa.”

You cross your arms, smiling devilishly.  “After you clean up all those toys in there.”

Xavier makes a stink face, coming over to hug your legs.  “I want to play still.”

“I thought you wanted juice?”  You ask, examining the life expectancy or the braids he’s been wearing.

“Uh huh, but-”

“Then you need to clean up your toys.”  Pointing him towards the living room, you dig for your phone to double check your shopping list.  “You should anyway, we’re going to the store to get some stuff for dinner.  You’ve had nuggets three times this week, and probably more including daycare.”

Xavier noisily throws his toys in the bin one at a time.  “Uh uh!  Ms. Adams gave us fries one day, and-and pizza!”  

You roll your eyes as you scroll your phone.  “That’s not a balanced diet, X.  They don’t teach you about eating fruits and vegetables yet?”

Xavier clangs his cars hard into their bin, annoying you to the nth degree.  “Xavier, you got one more time to throw that in there ‘fore I light you up.  Clean up right!”

Xavier hangs his head, braids curtain his face as he slumps to pick up each toy and put them in the tub, painstakingly slow.  You rest your head on your fist, jiggling your foot as you watch him get on your nerves in the most minute ways.  Xavier peers over at you periodically whenever he goes to pick up a toy to see what you’re doing but you remain unphased, waiting patiently as he wastes your time and his own.  What a five year old has to have an attitude about is beyond your thoughts to grasp.

“Xavier Maurice, you have two minutes to pick up the rest of these toys from off this floor, otherwise you are not getting any juice, or iPad time for the day.  It’s your choice.”

Xavier moos at your ultimatum, picking up his pace only slightly, but scooping his toys by the handful.  You would correct him on his tone, but he caught you on a good day.  One thing your son has taught you is how to pick your battles.

The sun was shining and the air felt warm for a change, so you and Xavier walked down to the nearby farmer’s market you’ve been meaning to try out.  The place is packed with whites in cargo shorts and Columbia fleece jackets as you calmly peruse the array of tomatoes, cucumbers, oranges, apples, fresh herbs, homemade pastas, and all other artisanal, organic ingredients you could get your hands on.  Xavier was not having it, doing his best to remain calm but he is five.

“Mama, where are the PopTarts?  And-and cereals?”  He whines, reaching for an onion on the bottom row of a stack.  You swiftly stop him, preventing what would have been an avalanche on him and a hefty guilt bill for you.

“Hey!  Same rules at home, apply out here.  Don’t touch anything.”  You smell a pear just for the hell of it.  The possibilities were endless for you to make some sensible and fulfilling meals for the two of you, but you also had to think realistically about Xavier’s picky eater status and your limited time to cook during the week.   They may not have had PopTarts, but you found some homemade ice cream that seemed decent enough to try.

After you put together a good looking basket full of items and pay, you head back to your house to get things started.   Xavier helps you carry a bunch of bananas in a bag when a nearby park catches his eye.  

“Mama!  Can I go play there?”  Xavier asks, bouncing on his toes.

You look to the playground area.  It wasn’t very crowded and he could probably run off some energy to earn a nap later.

You fake like you’re thinking hard, making Xavier beg even more, sticking out his pink bottom lip.  You couldn’t torture your baby any longer.

“Fine, go ahead.  But stay on the playground, don’t go off with anybody.  And if I call you cuz I can’t see you, you better come to me, ok?”

Xavier nods happily, shoving the fruit at you before booking it across the grass and through a gap in the hedges lining the park’s perimeter to get to the bright colored construction.

You take this time to sit back on a park bench, feeling the coolness of the wood against your legs and back, mixed with the warmth of the sun beaming down.  

This actually wasn’t a bad idea in the grand scheme of things.  You got time to enjoy nature, sit down as your child is occupied, giving the screen time a break for the both of you.  And you can people watch, which is your favorite pastime.  There are two white women chatting in deep conversation as you see a blonde hair girl lick a rock before tossing it to the ground, and brunette one hanging from the monkey bars falling hard on her back, head bouncing off of the concrete.  She starts to scream bloody murder, but when she gets up, you assume it is from embarrassment more than pain.  Her mother’s neck whips around to find her before scooping her up and cooing at her questions, asking if she is alright, etc.

Looking past them, you see a little Black girl swinging on the swing set, hair in braided pigtails held by bobbles, smiling widely as her little legs kicked to build up her momentum.  Behind her is a man.  And by man, you mean a MAN.  Dark wash jeans that accentuated his thick legs; clean chocolate sneakers on his feet; and dark brown Henley shirt that took on the privileged task of masking the full extent of his broad shoulders and impressive chest; dark brown leather jacket.  

You suddenly feel very aware of your T-shirt with a questionable stain that you hid with an old university jacket and your old worn out jeans that Xavier scribbled on once and you tossed on in a hurry.  This guy looked like the last person you would expect to be pushing a little girl  in a swing at a park.  More like pushing you up against a wall and-

“Mama!  Come push me!”  

The sound of your child calling out to you snapped you from your sudden romance novel fantasy and you picked up your bag and headed over to the swing set.  You tried to avoid looking at the man pushing the giggly little girl in front of him as you took your spot behind your son.

“I’m gonna go higher!  You’ll see!”  Xavier taunts the little girl as he grips the chains awaiting your assistance.  She sticks her tongue out while gliding toward the sky.

“X, be nice!  This isn’t a competition.”  You say as motherly as you can, without an inkling of a sour tone.

“Oh it isn’t?”  When he spoke, you almost missed your next turn to push Xavier.  The deepness of his tone shook you more than you cared to admit, along with an accent you couldn’t place?  You were done for..  Looking over at him, you get a full and up close shot of his appearance.  His smile is youthful and inviting despite his large appearance, with the gap in his teeth you would’ve laughed but not to be rude.  It just brought out your playfulness and made your brain melt as you tried to multitask.

Laughing stupidly, you say, “Well, I mean, swinging isn’t a sport or game.  You just swing and enjoy it.”

He shrugs, pushing the little girl as she cackled at her speed of motion.

“Harder mama!  I wanna go higher!”  Xavier demands.

“You heard him Mama, harder!”  He says with a slick smile, as he also pushes his child with more force.  You shook the implication of innuendo from your mind as you pushed Xavier farther.

“Listen, I’m getting tired of both of y’all telling me what to do.  Men, I swear.”  You murmur under your breath, looking at he sideways.  

“Oh like women are so easy to please?  This little girl has had me up since 7 am with her tea parties and Doc McStuffin reruns and baby shark.  All I can say is ‘yes ma’am, of course sweetheart’.”

“As it should be.”  You chide him.  Xavier’s laughter is at its peak excitement as he passes the little girl on one swing.  

“I told you, I got you!”  Xavier says.

“X!”

“Baba!”  The little girl bellows out all of a sudden,  dragging her heels across the gravel to bring herself to a stop.  So that is his child, you thought.

“Yes, ọmọbinrin?”  He asks, kneeling down to her level beside her.  She put her small hands to either side of his face looking very serious.  

“I want to be alone now.  You embarrassed me in front of my friend.”  She gets up and goes over to Xavier who stops his swing to.  She takes his hand and escorts him to the sandbox.

You couldn’t help but laugh, covering your mouth as you snort.  He looks up at you, slowly getting up.

“You find that funny?”  He asks, eyebrow raised.

You try your best to look serious but you can’t help it.  “Um, ahem.  I mean, hey you are right.  Nothing but ‘yes ma’am’ with that little girl.  You are wrapped around her fingers and toes, Mr….”

He kisses his teeth, looking over at them.  “M’Baku Rotimi.  And maybe so.  But I’d rather have it that way.  She doesn’t cower from people who test her, like her daddy.”  M’Baku puffs his chest out slightly for mass effect.

You ignore the twitch you feel at when he says ‘daddy’, trying to stay cool as you look away.  “How old is she?”

“Jolasun four, going on 40, very mature and bossy like a certain Miss....”  M’Baku mutters anticipating your response as you give him your name.

He looks you up and down slightly.  “And your boy, X?”

“Xavier.  Five, and every bit of it.  It’s funny, he seems to follow your little girl’s word more than my own.”

“It’s a blessing and a curse.  You might want to warn him about that,  Pretty girls grabbing ahold of his attention too quick.  Happens to the best of us.”  M'Baku says scratching the back of his neck, looking at you like he has been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.  You laugh in a way that was supposed to be condescending but comes out more like a seagull caught in barb wire.  

“Oh am I supposed to pick up on something with that statement?”  You ask in a challenging tone.

M’Baku puts his hands in his pockets, taking a small step towards you.  “No, no, I’m not a poet, nor do I beat around the bush.  You are very beautiful and witty, with a son who looks well taken care of.”

You take a step back, flustered but cool on the surface.  “Yeah, of course, because I know how to do that.”

“Alone?”  M’Baku asks inquisitively, cocking his head to the side.  You exhale sharply, flabbergasted as you take this as your cue to leave.

“I should probably get going.  I have to make dinner and stuff so…”  You turn to pick up your bag and soon as you do, the ice cream falls out, along with other items.  It’s condensation from its container worked a hole in the bottom of the paper sack, rendering it useless.

“Fuck!”  You curse, picking up the too soft ice cream.

“Here, I can help you with that.”  M'Baku picks up the bag carefully, using the other side of the bag that is hole-less, balancing so the contents don’t fall out the top.  You have what spilled outside of it already.

“God, you don’t have to do that!”  You say, attempting to take the bag out of his embrace.

He lifts it higher, turning from you.  “Eh!  I feel at least a bit responsible talking your ear off, please.  Allow me.”

His eyes are sincere enough, you thought.  It’s not like you watched Dateline the night before and saw something about people using children as bait for kidnapping women.  You shake the notion out of your head, figuring you’re being a little paranoid.

“I don’t live far, unless you drove.”

“We don’t live far either, so it’s fine; she felt like walking today.  Jolasun!”

“Xavier!  Come on, we gotta go!”

“Can Jola come with us, mama!?”  Xavier asks out loud as they dust sand off of themselves.

“Yeah, she and her Dad are coming, hurry up!”  You bellow, thanking M'Baku again cautiously as you all walked to your place.  

The weather almost felt like summer by the time you got back, kicking off your shoes as you and M'Baku plop the goods on the counter as you wiped your brow and caught your breath.  Xavier and Jolasun run for the bin of toys.

“Xavier, I don’t want a mess.  You can watch TV, no toys right now.”

Xavier is barely phased by the change in plans as he gets the remote, expertly selecting his choice of programs.

M'Baku puts the ice cream in the fridge as you start organizing the food in their proper places.  “Thanks again.  God that woulda been a mess without you.”

M'Baku unpacks the bananas.  “It’s all good.  You seemed a little off balance, so I figured this might tip you over if I didn’t help.”

You scoff as you shut your fridge door.  “Off balance?  What does that mean?”

M'Baku takes a breath before ripping an imitation of your seagull squawk with embellished eyelash batting and a hair flip.

“What?  What is all of that?  I don’t sound like that either.”  You say, offended but entertained.  

M'Baku leans on the counter peering at you suavely.  “Maybe not exactly like that, sure.  Can I make it up to you with showing how to use some of these ingredients you bought?”

You put a hand on your hip, pointing a loaf of bread at him.  “Now you have stepped over the line.  I can cook burn my own kitchen down, thanks.”

M'Baku chuckles. Looking in the living room at the kids who have gone quiet except for the TV.  “I am trying to impress you, but you’re taking it as an offense.  The saying is, what is it…’thou doth protest too much’?.”

You roll your eyes walking around him to see what the children were up to.  Looking over the couch, you can tell they were slumped in a way that for sure meant they were asleep.  Before you could confirm, you feel a sharp pain in your foot.

“AGH-”  you exclaim, before clamping your mouth with you hand and bouncing back.  You feel M'Baku’s hand on your side, the other holding our arm to keep you steady.  His touch is hot on you, his body must run naturally warm, you noted; hands rough but gentle and careful when holding you.  His close proximity to you helped you to realize how good he smelled; earthy and natural with a clean laundry finish.  

“Are you hurt?  What was that?”  M'Baku asked, but you hushed him as he spoke, pointing and mouthing that the kids were asleep.   He gets wide eyed and mouths an “oh”, letting you go to pick up the spare army man that Xavier neglected to pick up this morning.

You sat on a chair at the kitchen table, rubbing the bottom of your foot as you watch him bend over, some skin exposing on his lower back exposing how even toned his melanin is and you are thankful.

“I would offer to help you clean but you may not like that either.” M'Baku says, dropping the toy in its proper place.

You roll your eyes so deep you see your brain.  “Sir, I will never say no to free maid service if you are offering, but my son couldn't care less how many legos stab the soles of my feet.”

As he walked over to join you at the table, M'Baku lays a hand daintily on your knee.  “I am at your service.   If that means I am seeing you for a second date, I would be honored.”

“Second?”  Your voice rises as you question him, watching him smile.  You are really beginning to love that smile.  “Let me ask you this:  what makes you assume I am available to date?  That I don’t have a husband on the way home any minute?”

M’Baku looks around the kitchen.  “I see no pictures, you have no ring, and if you did, I would curse him for being so lazy as to not help you with your shopping list.”

You stare at him a moment before scoffing.  “You really want to cook for me huh?”

M’Baku throws his hands up.  “That would be a great start!  I have many vegetarian dishes you would fall in l-”

“Oh, whoa, wait.  You?  Babe the Blue Ox, is a vegetarian?”

M’Baku twists his lip up at the nickname.  “I’m not familiar with the moniker, but I am!”

“Is that what life is like from wherever you are?”

“Kansas?  Yes, of course.”  M’Baku rests his chin on his fist, looking at you innocently before breaking with a smile.

Your body relaxes as you tap the table with your fingertips thinking over your options.  A man you met on the playground, gorgeous and foreign man, wants to see you again and make you dinner.  Without any weird vibes, bad lines, or perverse insinuations?

“Mama?”

You snap to look in the living room, seeing a little hand stretch up from the couch.  “Can I have juice now?”  You spring up, thankful for the distraction to go check on your son.  Jolasun is rubbing her eyes as well.

“Sure thing baby, you’ve earned it.  Mama will have some too, she’s kind of thirsty all of a sudden.  Jolasun, you want some?”  You ask, grabbing some grape juice to pour.

“I think we’ll just head out actually.  It’s been good, you’ve got dinner to cook.”  M'Baku answers, getting up to go over and pick Jolasun up in his arms.

You didn’t even feel like cooking, especially now when there were two broad, strong spare hands ready to light your taste buds on fire.  “If you truly have somewhere to be, yeah, no problem.”

“Can Jolasun come over again?”  Xavier asks looking up at M'Baku with his cup in his hand.  Jolasun’s head springs off her dad’s shoulder to glare at him, making M'Baku laugh.  “If Jolasun is good with it, I think we can arrange something.”  Jolasun smiles, giving Xavier a thumbs as he smiles with purple juice stained lips.

“So, we can all just….meet up again sometime in the future.  Make plans between us, and that should be fun!”  You say informally, trying to keep things casual, no mentions of a date to roll of your tongue.

M'Baku’s eyes light up as he hugs his daughter winking at you.  “Good, it’s a date.  Take my number down and we can talk.”

You sink into the floor, submitting your number into his device as he asked.  So much for avoiding the ‘D’ word.  You all say your goodbyes then, closing the door and feeling like you can breathe for the first time all day as you plop on the couch.  But you still feel an extreme amount of energy.  Now you have a date to plan, but how long has it been since you’ve been on one?  What would you wear?  Should you buy more food for him to work with?  And shit!  He is a vegetarian!  Xavier don’t care about not a ne’er vegetable!

“Mama, that was fun!  I can’t wait to see them soon!”  Xavier exclaims jumping in your lap with all of his weight.

You wince at his knees in your thighs, picking him up and lightly slamming him down on the pillows in retaliation.  “Ohh!  I can’t either, X.”

Masterlist

Ragtag

@yaachtynoboat711 @chaneajoyyy @bidibidibombaclaat @sarcastic-sunshines @great-neckpectations @wakanda-inspired @klaine15689  

(This will be a series, so just ask if you wanna be tagged!)

[katedoesfics]

The Great Calamity

Chapter Eight - Friendship

Zelda didn’t see Link until the next morning as they prepared for the trip to Goron City. A slight detour from her original plan, but she insisted that they head right to Zora’s Domain after checking in on Daruk and the Divine Beast. After all, Zora’s Domain wasn’t too far away from there. It would take them a day’s travel to reach Goron City, and roughly another day to make their way back down and around to Zora’s Domain. If all went well, they would not have to stay in Goron City for long. Being so close to Death Mountain made Zelda uneasy, especially after the strange rumbling that had happened during their last visit.

They were quiet as they rode out into Hyrule Field, heading north to make their way to Goron City. The sun was just starting to warm the land from its dewy slumber and the grass sparkled under its warm light.

“I should apologize,” Zelda said softly as they rode.

Link turned to her, his expression curious. “For what?”

“For… being so cold towards you.”

Link smirked. He resisted the urge to make a sarcastic comment and turned his eyes back on the road. “Ah.”

“There was no excuse for it,” Zelda continued. “And… I’m sorry.”

Link didn’t know quite what to say to her, so he shrugged. “Apology accepted,” he said rather smugly.

Zelda straightened in the saddle and looked to the horizon where Death Mountain stood tall. “I’ll be glad to get to Zora’s Domain,” she said. “I hate being near that volcano.”

Link, too, turned his gaze to Death Mountain and nodded. He shared in her sentiments.

“You must be eager to get to Zora’s Domain, too,” Zelda said, cocking her head slightly as she met his gaze. She let a soft smile split her face.

Link stared at her dumbly, aware that she seemed to be implying something, but unsure of what those implications were.

Zelda read the confusion on his face before he could respond. “To see Mipha.”

“Oh. Sure.”

“She likes you,” Zelda said, looking out to the horizon.

“Hm?”

She turned back to Link. “Mipha. She likes you.”

Link’s brows knit together, puzzled. “What makes you think that?”

Zelda grinned and turned away. “Because I can tell.” She considered the women at the stables that other day. “A lot of women like you.”

This seemed to puzzle him even more.

Zelda raised a brow. “You don’t notice it?”

“Notice what?”

“The way they look at you,” she said as if it should have been obvious. Was he really that oblivious to it? “They blush and giggle.” Zelda rolled her eyes.

“They do?”

“Well, yeah,” she said. “They think you’re cute.”

“Oh.” Link seemed to considered this for a moment. “Do you?"

“What?” Zelda averted her gaze quickly and adjusted her reins. She scoffed. “No. I mean, I’m just saying. You’re pretty oblivious to it.”

“Hm.” Link looked ahead and said nothing further. He let a slight smile tug at the corners of his lips.

“Anyway,” Zelda said quickly. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”

They spoke casually through the rest of their ride, stopping at Foothill Stables by the early afternoon. It was their one and only stop before making the ascent up Death Mountains; a trip that they would have to make on foot. Zelda was getting hungry, and the horses did their rest, after all. Link never failed to mention that to her.

Zelda took advantage of their brief break and played with the Sheikah Slate by the fire as Link got the horses settled in to the stables. She didn’t look up until Link sat across the fire with a basket of fruit in his lap.

“Where did you get that?” Zelda asked.

Link grinned as he bit into a fresh pear. “The lady inside,” he said between bites. “She gave me the whole basket.”

Zelda raised a brow. “For free?”

Link nodded as he took another bite, then offered her some of the fruit.

Zelda took out an apple, inspecting it. “What did you say to her?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

Link shrugged and met her gaze. “I said hi.”

“You didn’t even… flirt with her?”

Link paused mid bite. “Was I supposed to?”

Zelda shook her head. She took a bite of her apple and peered at him curiously. “I don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“You don’t say a word to them, and women just fall over you.”

Link grinned and finished off the pear. He shrugged and fished another one out of the basket. “I’m cute,” he said after swallowing a bite. He looked up thoughtfully.

“What are you thinking?” Zelda asked curiously.

“I was wondering if she had any chicken.”

“Amazing,” Zelda muttered. “Is that all you think about?”

Link grinned at Zelda and took another bite.

“You hardly speak to me,” she said, “but when it comes to food, you don’t shut your mouth.”

Link’s chewing slowed. He studied her carefully. “Sorry?”

Zelda hesitated. “I know I haven’t been the nicest person to you… But do you really hate me that much?”

Link stopped eating, a brow raised. “What makes you think I hate you?”

“You never talk to me. About anything.”

Link made a face as he turned his gaze to his pear. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Anything. Why you hardly talk to me.” She watched as Link’s demeanor immediately changed. He stared at his pear for a moment before tossing the rest of it into the fire.

“What am I supposed to say?” he asked softly. “I’m expected to just keep quiet and do my job.”

Zelda hesitated, surprised by this comment. “What do you mean?”

Link met her gaze. “It’s not like I get to have a say in anything,” he said. “Everyone expects me to just be okay with being some hero.” He shrugged. “It’s a lot of pressure I didn’t sign up for.”

Zelda averted her gaze. She hadn’t realized the position Link had been put in - hadn’t realized how much he felt the same way she did.

“I guess I never considered that,” she said softly. “You seemed to have it all together.”

“Good,” he said. “I work hard to make it seem like that.”

Zelda smiled. “You don’t… you don’t have to pretend around me, you know.”

Link turned his gaze to the basket of fruit. He pulled out an apple and shined it on his shirt. He took a bite, then met Zelda’s gaze once more as he swallowed. “You don’t have to, either.”

Bit by bit, I’ve gotten Link to open up to me. It turns out he’s quite a glutton. He can’t resist a delicious meal! When I finally got around to asking why he’s so quiet all the time, I could tell it was difficult for him to say. But he did. With so much at stake, and so many eyes upon him, he feels it necessary to stay strong and to silently bear any burden. A feeling I know all too well. For him, it has caused him to stop outwardly expressing his thoughts and feelings. I always believed him to be simply a gifted person who had never faced a day of hardship. How wrong I was. Everyone has struggles that go unseen by the world. I was so absorbed with my own problems, I failed to see his. I wish to talk with him more and to see what lies beneath those calm waters, to hear him speak freely and openly. And perhaps I, too, will be able to bare my soul to him and share the demons that have plagued me all these years.

[sushigal007]

And now it's time for the finale! I may have to break this one up, the previous reviews got pretty long, even Esca/pism, and nothing happened for 75% of that one.

Warning: Long post (part 1)

So we open with Ste/ven asleep on the floor in a pool of light from the window that he and Con/nie could jump out of any time they choose. Blue shows up and yells at him and complains about that time she let Pink keep organics once before, because she was nice all along, remember, and it kinda makes it hard for me to believe that a) Blue wouldn't let her keep Earth as it was and b) nobody was remotely suspicious when Ro/se wanted the same thing.

Anyway, Blue then says Ste/ven's 'pets' are chasing the Pear/l's up and down the halls. Wait, is she talking about Con/nie again? She did this more than once!? And doesn't get called out for it? But I'm still confused because she says pets plural and as far as I'm aware, Ste/ven didn't bring anyone else along. Blue carries on complaining, asking what Ste/ven was thinking letting them loose in the ballroom... is she talking about the Cry/stal Gems?

I would just like to take another moment to remind you that we're gonna steam right along and redeem her.

So while Blue's whining, a rainbow worm crawls out of her hair. I'm sorry, what the fuck? Anyway Blue screams and throws it across the room and I think it's the first time in this entire damn show where I totally understand where she's coming from.

She wipes her face and asks him to get rid of it and I'm wondering if there's going to be a point to this or not. Then there's a really ugly shot of her looking out of the window while she tells him White is very unhappy with him and if he keeps it up, she's going to take away his Pear/l. Then instead of Ste/ven, we get a shot of Pink to remind us that baby Pink was just like Ste/ven-

Ahhhhh I get it, it's another dream. Blue and Yellow start berating him, then the Cry/stal Gems get poofed again, and Yellow, White and Blue shoot him with a corrupted light. Ste/ven switches between Pink and Rose and himself and then wakes up. So I guess Pink once embarrassed them at another ball and got thrown in jail for it because she wasn't like the other dictators, honest, forget everything you saw in Jungle Moon, she was nice all along, she really was. But I don't get the bit with the corruption beam. Are they implying they used it on Pink? Since when was that a thing? As far as we've been told, they used it exactly once to avenge her death, and Blue thought it would kill all the gems on Earth. So it makes no sense for them to suggest they ever used on Pink, and it makes no sense that Pink would do her whole fake rebellion death thing if she knew they had something like that in their arsenal.

Also now I know it’s just a dream, I’m seriously side-eying that line where Blue says she let Pink keep the organics from a colony. Tell me again that the human zoo had nothing to do with Pink, I dare you.

So anyway, he's pleased to see Con/nie and she says she can't exactly leave YES YOU CAN STE/VONNIE CAN FLOAT JUMP OUT OF THE WINDOW ARGH.

Blue comes in and starts saying the exact same thing she just did and Con/nie tries to explain herself... while looking at Blue's knees? Blue calls her human in a snotty tone and Con/nie’s like “you think I've never been grounded before?” and excuse me, what the fuck Con/nie? I’m very much not OK with he implications that the galactic-slave owning tyrants who created the Clu/ster, corrupted almost every gem on Earth and tried to destroy it over and over are anything remotely like Con/nie’s parents, how dare you.

Anyway, Ste/ven says she has to let them out or they’ll starve and Blue says that’s a made-up problem even though she called Con/nie a human ten seconds ago. She’ll let them out when he apologises for fusing and not a moment sooner.

Ste/ven says no. Con/nie seems pretty annoyed about that and honestly, I don’t blame her. I know I’ve been wanting them to stand up to the dictators for the last three episodes, but you’re kind of at a disadvantage now, Ste/ven, maybe you could make a stand when you’re on the other side of the door. Seeing as you’re clearly not going to jump out of the window. But no, he’s not sorry. So Blue hits him with a wave of sad. She’s been grieving over Pink for thousands of years and now she’s pissed off because Pink isn’t behaving how she wants. Um, did anyone actually tell her Pink was Ro/se Quartz? And fought a whole war against her? It feels like they just said “Pink’s alive!” without any further explanation. 

Ste/ven’s fine though, and he tells Blue Con/nie and him fuse all the time and she’s horrified because she’s a terrible person (but we’re gonna redeem her anyway). And he tells her the Cry/stal Gems fuse all the time and it’s fine-

Steven, she knows they fuse. She tried to kill Gar/net over it. I’m not sure why you think telling her again is going to make a difference. Anyway, Blue says spending time on Earth has warped Pink’s sense of right and wrong and I really am beginning to think she didn’t know about Ro/se. Ste/ven says yeah, maybe it did and gives whole speech about how he has a loving family and they don’t do stuff like locking him up (again, not liking the implications about Con/nie’s family here) and Blue finally gets fed up and throws a sad energy ball at him because she’s terrible (but we’re still going to redeem her).

Then Ste/ven asks how many times she locked Pink up and made her cry because Pink is a small baby child uwu who was nice all along no really and suddenly Blue sees the light! She was abusive towards Pink and that’s why she left!

I’m sorry, what? Pink left because you finally got fed up of her tantrums and gave her a colony and it was boring and she had more fun pretending to be Ro/se.

But anyway, Blue suddenly sees the error of her ways! Just like that! She’s going to help Ste/ven get the Cry/stal Gems so they can go back to their ship and go home!

No word on whether she’s going to stop owning slaves or destroying planets or trying to kill every fusion or off-colour gem she see, but who gives a shit about any of that, the important thing is she’s on Ste/ven’s side now. So she sneaks him and Con/nie out back to Pink’s room where they eat, get changed and say good bye to the pebbles who are just gonna stay behind and continue being tiny slaves, I guess.

Then she sneaks them off to Yellow’s room-

WOW EXCUSE ME WHAT THE FUCK?

So... those are fusion experiments. Just there. In Yellow’s room. Y’know, just in case you forgot that bit where she created a giant forced fusion from the shards of shattered Crystal Gems and tried to use it to destroy the Earth. Who’s corpses are these? What did they do? We don’t know. Nobody says anything about this, it will never be addressed in the show.

We’re still going to redeem her, by the way.

We get this nice, ominous shot of Yellow as she asks what they’re doing. Ste/ven says they’re here to rescue their friends and Yellow tells Blue to take Pink back to the tower and Blue says “She prefers to be called "Ste/ven."” Because just like that, her bigotry’s magically cured.

Remember S2 when we got a whole arc with like, half a dozen episodes focusing on Peri/dot’s redemption where she worked hard to overcome her bigotry and be a better person? I miss those days.

Ugly.

Anyway, Yellow tells Blue they can’t bend the rules for Pink or they’ll have to do it for everyone and Con/nie says maybe they should, but Yellow ignores her and tells Blue to take them back. Blue says no. So Yellow says she’ll do it herself and reaches for them...

And Blue slaps her hand away. And they start fighting.

It’s pretty lacklustre to start with, tbh, although I admit I’m totally rooting for Yellow. Who lives up to my expectations by smashing Blue through the wall. Go Yellow! Kick her ass!

Meanwhile the bubble with the gems in pops... and nothing happens. They don’t reform. And then Yellow gets all upset because she can’t believe Blue would hurt a fellow Dia/mond! And Blue says “Didn't we hurt Pink?”

Am I supposed to care? Because I don’t.

There’s a whole bit about how Pink and their gems and Blue are suffering in silence and Blue knows Yellow’s suffering too, and I really thought that was gonna be where Yellow did her face-heel-turn, but instead she zaps Blue with more electricity. And I was enjoying it right up until we panned up to Yellow’s face.

Turns out she isn’t enjoying this as much as I am. Hmph.

So Ste/ven throws his shield at her and tells her she doesn’t have to do this and Yellow says yes she does, it’s what White Dia/mond expects of all of them. I’m sorry, this is the finale. You don’t get to shift the blame this close to the end. You still conquered hundreds of planets and massacred all the inhabitants and created a forced fusion monster out of your enemies. You’ve got a whole room decorated with corpse shards. Own it.

But Ste/ven says this isn’t perfect and if every pork chop were perfect, we wouldn’t have pork chops and of course, Yellow doesn’t have the faintest idea what he’s on about. He explains that if you destroy all the things that aren’t perfect, you lose the stuff that makes you happy, like hot dogs.

I feel like this is a similar argument to when Peri/dot tried to argue that maybe they shouldn’t destroy the Earth because it had valuable resources and she could make it work without having to destroy the ecosystem, but nobody listens to Peri/dot.

Then Blue adds that it also includes things like Pink and Yellow Dia/mond breaks down. Dammit.

Uggglee.

They hug it out, and I finally notice that there’s a face in the bridge. The bridge is alive. They’ve been fighting it out all over this poor gem, smashing holes in her, she must be in agony right now.

This goes completely unacknowledged.

And just like that, Yellow’s on their side too. No word on whether she’s going to stop invading planets and destroying all life on them or making corpse monsters, but shh, we’re going to ignore the tyrant dictator bit for now and focus on the part where they were all sad Pink left because they were mean to her.

So they run off towards Pink’s legs and Con/nie says “Even if we have to escape now, we'll find some way to heal the corrupted Gems” which is the most sensible thing anyone’s said in a long time now, even though she then follows up by saying they can come back in the legs and Steven says White probably won’t see them, so we’re still pretending all four Dia/monds is the only possible solution available.

But then White Pear/l shows up to block their path and tells them they’re not going anywhere, and White’s torso ship flies over to hijack the legs.

It’S jUsT a KiD’s ShOw.

Also I’d just like to take a moment to remind you that this ship belonged to sweet lovely innocent tiny baby Pink Diamond actual cinnamon roll she was good all along really I promise.

So White Pear/l tells them to go to their rooms. Con/nie says this might be a face off, but I have no such hope.

But wait! What’s that!?

Aww yiss.

Anyway for some reason Ste/ven thinks Blue and Yellow might be behind this and they’re horrified by this suggestion and rush to assure White Diamond it’s not their fault, honest. So then Ste/ven has no idea who it could possibly be even though he astral projected to Earth last episode, where the hand ships were left, and asked Bis/muth for help. Con/nie doesn’t care anyway so long as they knock White out, which. Same.

And they send her flying and it’s very satisfying to watch so long as you don’t think about all the innocent gems who probably just got crushed to death. Of course, it’s Bis/muth and Peri/dot, yaaaaaay, my baby girl’s back! Oh, and La/pis is there too, I suppose. She flies down and lands next to Bis/muth and wow I’m so glad they worked out that whole thing where Bis/muth poofed her when she was just randomly in the middle of a battlefield, and she got put in a mirror for thousands of years, and also that whole thing where she was terrified of coming back to Home/world after being held prisoner again and then after what she did to Jas/per, shame we didn’t get to see any of it!

So white Pear/l zooms off towards the mech and Yellow and Blue tell them to take one of their ships and go. They understand now! Just like that! White’s ship starts getting up and they urge him to go again and he says no, Pink ran away and Ro/se Quartz fought them (no mention of the fact that those two are the exact same person) but he just wants to talk!

It’S jUsT a KiD’s ShOw. 

Anyway. He says now they’ve finally got White’s attention, which, yes, is technically true. Then he says “It’S jUsT a KiD’s ShOw.”

Haha, no, of course he doesn’t, I copied what he said from the transcript, then screencapped the pussy ship and copied my previous comment about it and forgot I needed to copy the comment again.

He says “If we can fix our family, we can fix everything!” and now I’m trying to decide whether to pour myself another glass of wine and down it in one.

They’re not your family, Ste/ven. You’re holding your family in your arms.

What really annoys me about this whole thing where they’ve dropped the storyline they had for four and a half years about standing up to your oppressors and replaced it with reuniting a broken family, is when people ask why I expected any different.

You know why? Because this show already had a storyline about a toxic family member back in season 3. It was Drop B/eat Dad. And in it, Sour Cr/eam’s biodad Mar/ty turned up, used his son to pimp out his faddy drink and then got called out as the piece of human shit he is. Sour Cr/eam realised his stepdad was more important to him and we never saw Mar/ty again and nobody ever missed him. It was infinitely more satisfying than fucking Gem Har/vest. So we could’ve had a finale where Ste/ven realised trying to make the Dia/monds respect him was a waste of time and it was totally fine if he wanted to cut them out of his life, they weren’t his real family, he had all the family he needed already. (I’m not sure how to work with the bit where they’re also intergalactic warlords so I’ll just ignore that for now. Why not. The show’s gonna.) Sometimes family members really are irredeemable bits of toxic waste and it’s perfectly OK to cut them out of your life forever!

But no, we’re gonna redeem White too now, just like we redeemed Yellow and Blue and Uncle An/dy, with a long, tearful speech about feelings. And now we know we’re getting another season, we’ll probably also get an episode where Sour Cr/eam decides he wants to give Mar/ty another chance and Mar/ty cries and becomes a good dad instantly.

Anyway, I’m gonna stop there for now, we’re at 14 minutes so I was gonna split this up into three 15 minute chunks, but I just read ahead in the transcript and I’m going to need to take a break and scream into a pillow before I deal with what happens next.