#mj/grace poking their head in to say hi

[mjmacchio1991]

grace, missed you 🥺🤍

ALICE HIIII <3

it’s been a bit but it’s good to see you! i saw your other messages as well and I’m touched that you were thinking of me :D

hope all has been well on your end and that you have been able to relax a bit (I really hope you have since I know you’re such a hard worker)

[sassycassie-s-writing]

Under the Moon

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): Avengers - Peter Parker/Spider-Man

Rating: PG/K+

Original Idea: I’ve been in a mood recently.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) I actually put forth a decent effort this time to make it as gender-neutral as possible. It’s probably not perfect but I tried.

^^^^^

A twinge in the muscles of my back jarred me from my sleep.

$#!+ did I forget again? I thought. Another spasm arched me off my mat. I fumbled through my bag for my phone. No service. Of course not. With shaking fingers, somehow I managed to unlock it. Moon Tracker was waiting for me on my home page. It launched and actually loaded, despite the lack of service.

Tonight’s Moon: Full read the screen.

I swore aloud. MJ didn’t wake.

Scrambling out of the tent, I stumbled through the dark to the tent next to ours. “Peter!” I hissed, knocking a knuckle against the tent pole. “Pete!”

I heard a groan. “What?” Peter complained.

“I need your help. I need you to come with me. Now.”

The tent he shared with Ned zipped open. Ned was curled up in a corner and clearly Peter had been sprawled out. Peter slipped out, barely managing to get into his sneakers, and zipped the tent shut behind him. “What’s goin’ on?” He yawned.

I recoiled as pain wracked through me. “We need to get away from camp—and I need you to web me to a tree,” I replied.

“What?”

“Now!”

My tone scared him into movement. He grabbed my hand and we ran from the campsite. I stumbled more than anything. My control over my own body was slipping. I moaned in pain. Peter looked back at me.

“What’s happening to your eyes?”

“No time to explain. Keep moving,” I panted.

We blindly wove through the woods until we were over a mile away. I found a sturdy tree and backed against it.

“Web me here,” I said. “Just cover me.”

“Why?”

I looked up. The moon was starting to peek above the hills, casting its light through the woods. “Just do it!” I cried out—stifling the sound as much as I could—and slammed into the tree. “Now!”

Peter’s webshooters activated and he spewed webs at me. I gave him a small smile.

Then I thrashed in pain—

And everything went black.

—

Peter stared as his friend’s body began to change. Claws broke through fingers. Fangs replaced teeth. A snout elongated from the face. Thick, brown-and-black hair sprouted. Pajamas started to disappear under the hair.

Until, instead of a human, Peter was staring at a wolf.

An enormous wolf. Easily twice the size of a regular wolf—and he’d found out that wolves were twice as big as he’d thought not too long ago—and covered in grey fur. The beast’s paws were wide and ended in long dark claws sharp enough to tear flesh like cotton candy. Thankfully they were positioned too awkwardly to reach the webs holding it.

“Gah! What the he—” He cut himself off as the wolf snarled at him, writhing against the webs. He applied another layer just to be safe. “Since—since—since when could you do—” The moonlight shone brighter, catching his attention. He peered up.

The moon was a massive disc—full and shining silver-white down against the tree trunk.

The wolf in front of him seemed transfixed by it, staring up with a melancholy whine softly escaping its throat. It tried again to escape the webs, but only half-heartedly.

Peter whooshed out a breath as realization struck him like a blow from the Hulk. “You’re a werewolf,” he whispered.

The wolf whimpered and then growled. Peter stepped back.

“I’m not sleeping tonight, am I?” He asked.

The wolf didn’t reply.

Which was probably a good thing, because if it did he probably would have screamed loud enough to wake up their friends over a mile away—and every big nasty in the forest. And he doubted his werewolf friend would protect him.

The wolf’s amber eyes were watching him suspiciously. But Peter just sat down and yawned again. “You and I have known each other for like ten years now. You’re in on my secret. Why didn’t you ever tell me yours?” He stared at the wolf, who was still seething at being trapped, but not fighting against the webs. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Again, the wolf made no reply. Just turned those amber eyes up to the moon. Peter looked up at it too. “Yeah. It’s beautiful. Especially on nights like tonight. When there aren’t any clouds.”

The wolf whined like a puppy—and Peter had to remind himself to not tear off the webs to cuddle into that thick, soft-looking fur. That werewolves probably didn’t have any human memories when they were in their wolf form. He leaned back on his hands. “You’re probably not gonna remember this, so I may as well tell you: I’ve actually had a crush on you since like seventh grade. I know we’ve been friends for longer than that but…” He shrugged. The wolf kept staring at the moon. “I don’t know. Something changed that year. I saw you in the gym with the ballroom dance club, teaching some poor dude how to waltz when I stayed late for robotics, and it was like this… like a lightbulb went off in my head. You know? Suddenly it was like I was really seeing you for the first time. Like I caught a glimpse of the best pieces of your soul.

“And I’ve never been the same since. Never looked at you the same way. I notice the grace you use when you move. Even if you’re clumsy sometimes. But I see your compassion too. Your care. Like once I started looking, I couldn’t stop.”

The wolf didn’t even react to him at all.

Peter sighed. “I’ll keep an eye on you tonight. I promise. You won’t be able to get out or hurt anything. It’ll be okay. I promise.”

—

I came to under the pale orange light of dawn. The last dregs of dissolving web fluid clung to my pajamas. I felt drained. Like I always did the morning after a full moon.

“Hey, you’re up!” Peter said happily. I turned. He was sitting on the forest floor a few feet away, using a Bunsen burner camping “stove” to heat a small pot of water. Two paper cups were sitting near him, plastic spoons poking out of the top. I slumped against the tree trunk. “I’m making some cocoa. Want some?”

I watched him pour the water in the cups, adding packets of cocoa mix and stirring carefully. I didn’t have the energy to actually reply.

He handed me one of the cups. “This should warm you up. It’s a little chilly.”

“Did you get any sleep?” I croaked.

“I did, actually. See, the thing is, my webs dissolve in two hours. On average, it takes fourteen minutes for a person to fall asleep, and a single sleep cycle is ninety minutes—hour and a half. So I used my webshooters to set timers. An almost-two-hour one to know when to replace the webs around you, and another to wake me up roughly an hour and forty-four minutes after I set it. So I slept between replacing your webs and I actually feel alright. Probably better than you anyway.”

I grunted agreement at that. I felt like I’d been trampled by a herd of elephants.

I tried a sip of the cocoa. Not too hot, but enough to warm my core. I sighed, content with the taste and warmth.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Peter asked quietly. I met his eyes. He had the expression of a sad puppy on his face.

I huffed a little, stirring my cocoa. “My secret isn’t like yours, Peter,” I said. “You keep your secret to keep the people you care about safe. I do too, but mine—mine is different. You’re keeping the people you love safe from villains who want to hurt you by hurting them. I’m keeping the people I care about safe from me. Because I’m… we’re classified as monsters, Peter. Werewolves, vampires—we’re referred to as monsters the same way humans are mammals. I never told you because what I can do… it’s worse than what you can do. You’re a superhero. I’m a lycanthrope. Yours is a mutation of your DNA. Mine is literally a curse. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you looking at me like I’m…”

“A monster?” Peter finished gently.

I almost growled at the word. “Yeah,” I admitted begrudgingly, taking a sip of my cocoa. “You have no idea how hard it is for someone like me to make or keep friends. I’ve spent most of my life super lonely. Then I met you and Ned and MJ and I felt like… like finally I could have some friends. I was turned into a werewolf when I was four-years-old, Peter. Thirteen years, I’ve suffered with this alone. My parents know but they don’t talk about it. They pretend like my curse doesn’t exist. Then I make friends for the first time in my life and still know, deep down, that I’ll never belong with them. Not really. Even when you told me about you, I knew I still wasn’t like you. I never would be. So I hoped I could just be friends as long as I could with you guys and… find a way to live with it when you all eventually left me.”

I downed the rest of my cup and stood. My joints ached.

“We should go back to camp before Ned and MJ wonder where we’ve gone,” I said.

Not waiting for Peter, I headed back the way we’d come, following my own scent through the trees, several hours old now, but doubly punctuated by Peter’s as he’d gone back to get the burner and the cocoa.

He caught up to me, jogging a little. “For the record, even though you scared the pants off of me last night when I saw you turn, I don’t think you’re a monster,” he said.

I managed a small smile. “Thanks,” I replied.

“And, also, I’m not going to leave you. You’re still my friend and I’m not scared. I can lift… like, a hundred times more than my body weight. I think I can handle you as a wolf. You’re not gonna hurt me and I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s… that’s a relief to hear,” I admitted. We kept hiking back. “Do I remember you saying you’ve had a crush on me since we were in seventh grade? Or did I dream that up?”

Peter swore under his breath. A normal person wouldn’t have heard it, but I did. Wolf’s hearing. “Uh… I think you dreamt that up,” he said.

Liar. But if he wasn’t ready to tell me human-face-to-human-face, I’d give him time. He’d taken my secret better than I could have asked for or anticipated. I could let him admit his feelings whenever he was ready. I owed him that much.

When we got back to camp, MJ was sitting on a tree stump, munching on some dry cereal. “Where have you two been all night?” she asked.

[eternalstann]

Tongue Twister (Part 2)

Y’all asked for it 😘

Pairing: Peter Parker X Reader

Warnings: Smut

Word Count: 1.4k

You don’t need to read it but here’s Part 1: 

_________________________________

You waited a few minutes before walking back into your bedroom. Peter was gone so you assumed he must've went into the living room with MJ and Ned. You poked your head out of your bedroom door to greet your friends. "Hey guys! I'm sorry I totally forgot we were hanging today, let me just throw something on I'll be right out!" You shouted. You heard them yelling hellos back at you. Rummaging through your dresser you can’t help but think about what had happened between you and Peter only 20 minutes ago.

You knew he'd be good but that was incredible. You pressed your thighs together at the thought of him. What would happen between the two of you now? He was your best friend. You sighed pushing your worries aside. You grabbed a pair of biker shorts and a T-shirt . You slid your feet into your slippers and headed out to your company.

"Y/N I saved you a slice of pizza" Ned smiled at you. "One slice?! Wow thanks guys" you responded sarcastically. "I told Peter to slow down" MJ shook her head. You suddenly became painfully aware of their history. MJ and Peter had sort of dated back in high school before deciding they were better off as friends. Jealousy flooded your body. Had they ever had sex? What if Peter still had feelings for her? Or her for him? You pinched yourself to focus. What was wrong with you? You ate your pizza curled up into the couch, trying your best to interact with your friends but every time MJ made Peter laugh or vice versa you felt something pulling in your chest.

After about an hour you couldn't take it anymore. "Hey you guys, I'm really not feeling well. I'm gonna take a bath and go to bed. Stay as late as you want - love you guys" you rushed to your room. You didn’t mean to but you winced when your door slammed. You grabbed a towel and began running your bath. You sat on the edge of the tub waiting for it to fill. You felt like every basic girl from every young adult movie ever. Growing feelings for your best friend and then dramatically pondering what could happen whilst staring out a window or into some body of water.

Once the tub had filled you eased in, the hot water taking away some of angst that had built up inside of you. You leaned your head back onto the cool tile and let your eyes shut. You had almost drifted to sleep when you heard your bathroom door open and close. “Peter, what are you doing? You can’t be in here they know I’m taking a bath!” You whispered. “They left, and I just wanted to check on you” his voice was so sincere you could’ve melted. “I’m fine...I was just, actually I don’t know.” You sighed rubbing the back of your neck. “I thought we were having so much fun earlier, what’s wrong?” He looked like you’d kicked his puppy. “We were having fun, but I’ve been thinking that maybe I don’t want this to just be fun” you spoke and it was like a weight lifted off your shoulders. Peter smiled and began undressing.

“Not that I mind, but what are you doing?” You asked staring up at him. He didn’t say anything, he just slid into the tub behind you. The water spilled over the sides a little at the force of another body joining you. “I want more then just fun out of this too” Peter finally responded, wrapping his arms around your waist. You leaned back against his hard chest, tilting your head up so you could see him. He leaned down and kissed you, this time slow and passionate. You could feel his dick hardening against the small of your back so you took it upon your self to turn around, once again finding yourself in his lap. You both just looked at each other. The only sound in the room was that of the water lapping against the sides of the tub. “I wanted to fuck the shit out of you earlier but damn now I kind of wanna make love to you” Peter laughed.

“I’m fine with either” you answer, leaning in to kiss him. Peters hands rested on either side of your face while yours were fumbling through the water to find his length. As soon as you did you lifted up and lowered yourself down. “Oh fuck Peter” you moaned. You felt so full you thought you would burst. “Shit Y/N, oh shit” Peters hands dropped to your waist as he gasped at the feel of your pussy squeezing his dick. You didn’t even wait to give yourself time to adjust before you began to move. You rolled your hips slowly at first, taking in the feeling of him inside of you. He was so deep like this, and he was so close and he smelled so good. Everything about the moment was infatuating. You started to lose yourself, feeling the pleasant burn begin to build in your core. You brace yourself on his shoulders as you start to full on bounce. “Baby slow down I’m gonna fucking come” Peter groaned, gripping you so tightly his knuckles were turning white. Water splashed on the floor each time you came down on him.

“Cum for me Peter! Cum in the pussy, it’s yours baby” you purr staring into his eyes and that was it for him. He pulled you down onto him as hard as he could before cumming inside of you. The sight of him pushed you to your peak as you came around his dick. “Fuck Y/N” He muttered running a hand through his hair. You smiled and stood up from the tub on shaky legs. You looked at Peter through the mirror and he grinned at you before standing up as well. You turned around to face him but he placed a hand on the back of your neck and forced you to keep looking forward.

“No baby, watch the mirror” you obeyed his words and watched as he bent you over the bathroom sink. Your pussy quivered at the thought of him taking you again. Peter rubbed your ass before giving it a hard smack. “You think I don’t know why you left? You didn’t like seeing me with MJ” he murmured and you groaned in remembrance. “Well how do you think I feel knowing you let another man taste this pretty pussy”. Another smack to your ass. “This is mine. You are mine” he almost growled, dropping to his knees and spreading your ass apart. You gasped and your head fell forward at the feeling of his tongue in your ass. “I’m gonna fuck this ass soon” he whispered before delving back in. You thought your legs would give out when he slid a finger into your pussy all while still licking your ass. “Shit, shit, shit” you chanted, using all your strength to hold yourself up. He added another finger, pumping them rapidly. He curled them and you let out a squeak when he brushed your g-spot.

Peter delivered another smack to your ass before standing up. You watched through hooded eyes as he lined himself up. “Gonna fuck you now” he whispered, pushing himself into you. “Y/N” your name fell from his lips like it was the sweetest word to ever grace his tongue. You couldn’t even find words as he pulled out before slipping back in. Your eyes squeezed shut and you felt tears welling up from how good you felt. Peters eyes widened when he saw a tear slip from your eye. “Are you crying” he asked gently, stopping his movement. “No baby, I’m crying because you feel so good please keeping moving, please” you begged, pushing your hips back against him.

That was all the encouragement he needed before he began slamming into you. He fucked you viciously. His left hand wrapped your ponytail around his fist, his right on your hip to pull you back onto his dick. Your screams echoed through the small bathroom and Peter sped up even more. You’re body went limp, falling against the sink as you came and he kept fucking into you. Not a single coherent thought could form in your mind. “I’m gonna cum in this tight fucking pussy again” Peter spoke letting out a guttural groan before finding his release inside of you.

You panted, trying to gather yourself. “Peter” you whimpered and he picked you up carrying to the bed. “Thank you, for carrying me...and for fucking me so good” you laugh breathlessly, curling up into his side. “You’re welcome beautiful, want me to order another pizza with my tongue twister?”

_________________________

Soooo... this got a lot dirtier and a lot longer than I expected it to be. I hope you liked it! Thank you so much for all the support and love, I just started this account three days ago and you all have been wonderful. Feel free to send in requests. Sending you love!

Y’all asked for part two, thank you for reading! I appreciate you so much. Here you go ❤️ @campcampie @likeit-or-leaveit @lovehermioneforever @aaliyah-lampley99 @kaylinicole25 @lukesbabylon @bisexual-sk8r @colored-confetti @ajl090 @randomtrashpanda

[wildroseofarran]

Nice to Meet You || Gralloway, Abel, & Guildias

MJ: Just another quiet March midnight. Not surprised in the least that Peter left his window open. Just as he used to. Did he ever change? The Ravnos was less than graceful crawling through the small space and spilling onto the dining room floor.

He'd missed his usual intrusions. They'd been on his mind since crossing the state line days ago. The quaint little house on his mind talking to Callum, and Abel, and now giving his greetings to Midas. He'd missed this place.

Pete: Midas had been napping before sensing the new presence. He sat alert on top of his tree, ears perked for the tiniest sound.

But it wasn't a tiny sound. It was a big one. A familiar one.

He sniffed at the hand that reached out to him and, deeming the guest acceptable, positioned his head for pets.

His owner was nowhere in the immediate area, but an open back door indicated he was somewhere in the yard.

MJ: "Hey, lil king. Remember me? Tell me what I missed, hmm?" One more scritch, positioning himself for eye contact, open to any and all the little creature had to say. Actually seeing Peter could wait. Best to go forward with something.

Pete: 'I remember you. I've heard your name but haven't seen your face. Your scent is on the bed.'

MJ: "On the bed, huh? He don't clean his sheets?"

Pete: 'On the bed. Only his scent is in the bed.'

MJ: "Show me?"

Pete: Midas treated himself to a full, luxurious stretch before leaping down from his perch and leading the vampire up the stairs.

MJ would be able to see small changes to the house. Fresh paint, new plants, some new photos. Stickers on one of the bedroom doors signaled the presence of a child at some point.

The door to Pete's bedroom had been pulled even with the frame but not shut completely, allowing Midas to nudge it open.

What he'd meant would be plainly obvious:

Blue glass roses sat on Pete's beside table, and in the middle of the pillows on the bed, a stuffed pink elephant.

MJ: MJ paused in the doorway, still absorbing the short journey to the bedroom, only to be met with nostalgia, and a twinge of painful memory. Not so discomforting. Not as it used to be. Not with this new blended soul. There was now a fondness to that pink elephant. What a day that had been.

"I see what you mean now." He tapped at the foot of the bed, invitation to his host before doing a flop onto the mattress.

Pete: Midas jumped up, making himself comfortable not on the bed, but on MJ's abdomen.

'Your scent on the bed. His scent in the bed.'

MJ: "And now your scent on me. How 'bout that?"

Pete: Midas watched the vampire intently. 'Did you come for sadness?'

MJ: "Did I come for what?"

Pete: 'Did you come to make him sad?'

MJ: "Is that all I do?"

Pete: 'He's been too sad for too long. It was all he knew for a time.'

MJ: "You're a very mature kitten."

Pete: 'Cats are wise.'

MJ: "So ya know you're a cat."

Pete: 'That's what he says.'

MJ: "He says that ya know you're a cat?"

Pete: ‘He says cats are wise.’

MJ: "I'd say you're more sentient than most. What's your secret?"

Pete: 'He talks to me.'

MJ: "That's all it takes, huh?" How about some scritches under the chin?

Pete: Midas closed his eyes and purred.

MJ: "When was the last time ya had a big juicy piece of fish? Hmm? Ya deserve some."

Pete: "I don't know. A very long time."

Really it had only been a couple of weeks, but time meant nothing to a cat.

MJ: "Let's go get ya some, then."

MJ sat up and tapped at his shoulder. "Ya get t'go for a ride."

Pete: Midas climbed onto the vampire's shoulder and perched himself like a parrot with ease. He'd done this before.

'Where are we going?'

MJ: "T'the kitchen. We're gonna sneak ya some food."

Pete: 'He'll be able to scent you. He'll know you're here.'

MJ: "Oh yeah? His nose that good now?"

Pete: 'Bears have a strong sense of smell.'

MJ: "He a good bear?"

Pete: 'He guards the river and plants roses on the bank.'

MJ: "I've seen those," he said, a kind of faraway whimsy in his tone.

The fridge was opened for inspection. He made no effort to be quiet.

Pete: 'They have magic. He plants them for you.'

The fridge showed signs of being recently stocked. The containers were full and some had yet to be opened. The produce was fresh, as were the leftovers.

'My food is in the place with the red top.'

MJ: "I get conflicting answers. Can you see color?"

Pete: 'Yes, though not as much as a human.'

MJ: "Are you a familiar?"

Pete: 'I don't have magic.'

MJ: He had his suspicions. He'd never heard an animal speak so eloquently. Most rats had the translatable vocabulary of a child. He wondered if that was because they had been wild. Miss Swiss had been special. Oh well.

"Here, some salmon."

Pete: Midas chirped in approval. However eloquent, he was still a cat.

Meanwhile, outside, Pete had abruptly stopped in the middle of his prayers and was facing his house, frozen in place.

Hearing any sort of movement coming from inside would've been alarming on its own, but he could detect a hint of something--someone--in the breeze that was making his heart thunder in his chest.

Slowly, he stood.

MJ: The salmon was cut into strips on the cutting board. Some things didn't change. He still knew his way around the kitchen like the back of his hand. A single slice was then cut into cubes. A tiny portion given to his shoulder guest. He was aware of Peter's scent, aware this would come to a head, but calm just the same.

Pete: Pete didn't entirely know what he was going to find as he stepped inside. Would MJ just be sitting there? Would he be poking around? Would he be angry? Would the other man be there?

....No. None of those.

MJ was standing in his kitchen chopping--was that salmon?--for his cat.

"....MJ?"

MJ: A hundred comebacks. Jokes, greetings, offhanded remarks. A smile, a stutter, a loss of all senses. Anything, something. What MJ managed was staring. Staring, and allowing Midas to lick his fingers. He must have been the odd sight.

"I stole your fish," was what he landed on.

Pete: It was a night for the unexpected and Pete's mind was completely blank.

"Yes you did. Midas talk you into it?"

MJ: "Think I talked him into it."

Pete: "I doubt he needed much talking. He loves salmon."

Pete dared to step closer. The last time he'd seen MJ was in a dream. He'd woken with his arms aching from how much he longed to hold his vampire. Now here he was, feeding salmon to his cat.

"Is this another dream?"

MJ: "Are you awake?" Another cube of salmon for Midas. A parting gift before placing him on the floor.

Pete: "Pretty sure."

Midas rubbed against Pete's leg on his way back to his tree. It was time for a nap.

MJ: "Then you're not dreamin'." MJ looked to the salmon and back. "What was this supposed t'be?"

Pete: "Oh, uh...I'm not really sure. I didn't have a specific plan for it." Just like he didn't have a specific plan for this situation.

MJ: "No idea? Guess it's...sashimi now."

Pete: "Guess so," he said with a small smile. "How've you been?"

MJ: "I've been shitty, then kinda okay, then just been, then shitty, then better. You?"

Pete: "Sounds like a hell of a rollercoaster. I've just...been. Couple of bumps, but I think I'm no worse for wear."

MJ: "Kay, then." What to do now?

Pete: Pete took a deep breath. "I found a suit of armor."

MJ: For some reason, tension returned to his shoulders.

"Yeah? From where?"

Pete: "Theater department at the community college. And I found a white horse."

MJ: "Say what now?"

Pete: "Friend of a coworker of Ryan's. My brother-in-law."

MJ: "Ya got someone?"

Pete: "Yeah, the guy--Jacob--owns a dude ranch and he said he would let me borrow it in exchange for free beer."

MJ: "I... got no clue what we're talkin' 'bout now."

Pete: "I promised that I would do everything I could to win you back, starting with putting on a suit of armor and riding up on a white horse."

MJ: "And ya just said you're with someone n'somethin' about a theater. Look... I dunno what I expected comin' here, but we... we gotta talk plainly."

Pete: Pete's brow furrowed. "I--what? I'm not with anyone. Jacob is Ryan's coworker's friend who's letting me borrow his horse."

MJ: "Peter, ya got this... idea in your head or somethin' and I got no clue how ya have it anymore."

Pete: "You--you don't remember the dream?"

MJ: "Somewhat, but a lot of shit happened after."

Pete: "Stuff that's changed how you felt...?" Pete's voice had gotten progressively quieter and more deflated with each passing moment.

MJ: "I don't get what you're hangin' on to. What made any of this -"

Better restart. He hauled himself onto the counter. Arms on his knees.

"She's gone. MJ's gone."

Pete: "I'm hanging on to you. I'm hanging on to the love I have for you." The small bubble of hope that had lived in his chest since the night he'd had that dream threatened to burst. It had felt so real. MJ had felt so real. But maybe it had only felt real--been real--for him. Maybe--

Pete stilled. Stared. ".....What? What do you mean MJ's gone? You're MJ. I'm looking at you. Aren't I?"

MJ: "Sort of but no. That answer only works in this reality, I think? The one where two things become one thing. Then it's just a sort of but no."

Pete: It was only by the grace of knowing Guildias that any of that made sense.

"So you--you melded. She's gone because she's not her anymore, she's part of you now."

MJ: "You're good at this. Seasoned pro. S'like ya got some druid friend or somethin'." A small smile.

Pete: Pete returned the smile, but there was no denying the knot that had formed in his stomach. He would've given anything to be able to tear that horrible woman away from the man he loved, or better, to have gone back in time and stopped the soul eating from happening in the first place.

"How much of you is you?"

MJ: "That's what everyone asks me. That means so much, don't it? Is there a percentage you're lookin' for of the old guy?"

Pete: "We all change all the time. I'm not the same old guy, and even without having melded you wouldn't be either." He shrugged. "I just wanna know if there's any part of the you I know still in there somewhere."

MJ: "I wouldn't be here if there wasn't somethin'. I wanna know ya, who ya are like new. S'half of why I came from Cali."

Pete: "You really wanna get to know me again?"

MJ: "D'ya wanna know me?"

Pete: Pete nodded. "Yeah, I do."

MJ: "I wanna ask why."

Pete: "Earlier you asked what I was hanging on to, and I said I was hanging on to you. I am, MJ. I love you. I miss you. Not a day goes by that I don't think of you. I promised you in a dream that I would do whatever it took to make up for all the hurt I've caused you, to win you back, and even if you don't remember that dream like I do, I intend to keep that promise. I want to get to know you again. I want you to get to know me again."

MJ: "Look, I feel like..." No. He shook his head and tried again. "We gotta start from a place that ain't love. I dunno how else t'explain I'm not MJ...like...that, anymore. I don't feel the same 'bout shit. Like... I left. I left like shit. I wanted t'be by myself. I wanted t'deal with what happened in my own way. I came back after ya did shit with someone else. That's..." He shrugged. "It is what it is."

Pete: Pete fell into thoughtful silence. MJ was right, of course. He'd melded with Victoria; he wasn't the same person anymore. Not all of the same person anymore. He had her perspective now too. Her personality, her thought process, her gut feelings. As much as he looked the same and sounded the same, this was a different person standing in front of him, and he was kind of a different person to MJ too.

They had to start from a place that wasn't love.

After a few moments, Pete stuck his hand out. Not to hold, but to shake. "Hi. I'm Peter and I'm a werebear. Most people call me Pete. I speak French, do gladiator training, and I really love cats."

MJ: MJ waited and watched, quietly. He waited for Peter to say no; that he couldn't believe anything had changed. Some romantic gesture... but there was his hand. And he took it. And he smiled.

"I think I like Peter more, but that opens the door t'ya callin' me Mayhew. I'm a vampire. I do things like take your watch while talkin' t'ya."

Peter's watch was spun around his finger. "I really love rats."

Pete: He shook MJ's hand, looking momentarily stunned to see his watch on MJ's finger before laughing. So much better than a snake on the bar.

"It's nice to meet you, Mayhew. You can call me Peter. But I'd prefer calling you MJ. That fluffy spoiled boy over there is my son. He likes salmon and looking out the window. You've won his undying affection."

MJ: Better than he expected. He should have given Peter more credit. He smiled, offering back the watch.

"Think fluffers would eat my rats?"

Pete: Back it went on his wrist. "Nah. He got used to seeing rats and mice when we lived in France, he doesn't mind them. Now crickets? He will hunt a cricket to the ends of the earth."

MJ: "People eatin' rats still?"

Pete: "Just snails," he chuckled. "Rats and mice are just a part of farm life, fighting like hell to get into grain stores."

MJ: "Just doin' their thing. Them n'roaches'll be here 'til the end of time."

Pete: "Probably, yeah. Safe from the apocalypse and safe from Midas. Do you have a little pet rat right now?"

MJ: "I got one in Cali. Gonna get another for the road."

Pete: "There's a new pet shop in town. They have all sorts of little animals. Ferrets, lizards, mice, rats."

MJ: "They open late?"

Pete: "Later than most places around here."

MJ: "Ya wantin' somethin' else?"

Pete: "Yeah, but not for me. Been wanting to get a pet for Luke."

MJ: "Get him a... mouse."

Pete: “They have such short little lives. He’s in a bad way, I’d hate for him to lose someone else he loves.”

MJ: "Then get him a bird. A parrot."

Pete: “Huh. That’s not a bad idea. They live like sixty years, don’t they?”

MJ: "Gotta put em in your will. My aunt had one. Outlived her."

Pete: "Our nephew can inherit his. Or our niece."

MJ: "Now you're thinkin'."

Pete: "Parrot it is. He can teach it lawyer speak."

MJ: "N'I'll teach it t'cuss."

Pete: "Perfect. This is gonna be such a well-spoken parrot."

MJ: "'Twenty t'life, fucker!'" he laughed.

Pete: Pete laughed and shook his head. "I'm excited for this bird and I don't even know what kind I'm getting him."

MJ: "He still in the city?"

Pete: "For now, yeah. There's a good chance he'll be moving back here."

MJ: "What the hell for?"

Pete: “He’s had a rough couple years. Living alone has taken a toll.”

MJ: "Think it'd be the other way around."

Pete: “He was fine living in Raleigh until his boyfriend died. That changed things.”

MJ: "They livin' together?"

Pete: Pete shook his head. "No, boyfriend was living here. But I think the fact that they never found his body or any real answers is messing with his head. He never got any closure." He had yet to determine if the haunting counted as closure.

MJ: He thought of Kenna, and what she would want in that circumstance.

"He gonna be livin' here?"

Pete: “Either here or with our parents. Maybe with his best friend. She was the boyfriend’s sister and she’s been having a rough time too.”

MJ: "That's the thing 'bout death. Only fucks with the ones still livin'."

Pete: “Yeah,” he sighed. “I hope being back here helps. At the very least he won’t have to come home to an empty condo.”

MJ: "I guess. If that helps."

Pete: "It won't magically solve everything but it's a good start." Kind of like this situation with them, he supposed.

MJ: Well, enough about a brother he barley knew or even saw.

"What d'ya wanna do now?"

Pete: "Wanna take Midas for a walk with me?"

MJ: "He's a cat."

Pete: "Yep. A leash trained cat who likes to go on walks."

MJ: "You're a weird one, Peter."

Pete: He smiled. "It's been said before. So what do you say?"

MJ: "I know I'm an animal lover n'all, but that's... yeah. No," he laughed.

Pete: Pete chuckled and looked over at Midas, who was busy grooming himself. "If you hadn't given him salmon he'd probably be very offended. Wanna go for a walk with just me?"

MJ: "Ya not bothered by a night walk?"

Pete: "I'm a Fera. The night and I are good friends."

MJ: "Get your keys, then."

Pete: "All right. Here, floof." He arranged the salmon in Midas' dish and grabbed him from his tree. "Dinner. Don't do anything weird while we're gone and don't think you're getting the good life tomorrow."

Now for keys and his jacket.

MJ: "Good life is only once a week," he nodded, totally serious but absolutely not. This all felt... surreal, and he wondered if Peter felt the same.

Pete: It was enough to make Pete chuckle. He was in the exact same boat as MJ; this all felt like another dream. He was getting ready to go on a walk with a newly melded vampire he'd once dated and had just agreed to get to know again. What could be more surreal?

"Okay," he said once they were outside. "Left or right?"

MJ: "Ummm..." MJ twisted his finger, as though the decision was too difficult, he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Which way has the dive bar? That ugly buildin' with the black door?"

Pete: "O'Charlie's? This way." He led them to the left. "You're in for a real treat. Dwight talked Charlie into steam cleaning the carpet last month."

MJ: A gasp. "But smelly floor is half of what makes a dive bar a dive bar!"

Pete: "Give it a week or two, it'll be right back where it was. The tables are still vaguely sticky I'm told."

MJ: "That's comfortin'." At least to MJ, now and before.

Pete: "Charlie is his same old self. Lately the conspiracy mood has been MK Ultra."

MJ: "S'been what now?"

Pete: "MK Ultra. Basically, back in the 50s and 60s the CIA was pumping people full of LSD to study mind control. And unlike most things, this one isn't in Charlie's head. It was declassified."

MJ: "Is anything surprisin' anymore? Anything after the Spanish Inquisition?"

Pete: "Not really, but sometimes something comes along that throws you for a loop."

MJ: "I think I'm done with surprises."

Pete: "You're preaching to the choir. I'll be good if I don't have to deal with another surprise again in my life."

MJ: "Well, I mean, bein' a bear... bad surprise?"

Pete: "Jury's still out on whether the end result is bad, but the process sure was."

MJ: "Does it hurt? Changin'?"

Pete: "Less so now. The first time was horrible. I was sick for days and days leading up to the full moon."

MJ: "D'ya feel everything? D'ya remember how it feels?"

Pete: Pete nodded. "Yep. It's--feeling your bones and body parts move around and reform is the weirdest damn feeling. Painful too but the pain doesn't last."

MJ: "My teeth itch. That is a thing, n'it happens all the time."

Pete: "Oh, man." He tried to imagine the sensation and made a face. "Does it drive you crazy?"

MJ: "When I'm already hungry, yeah. Goes from a mild annoyance t'pissed off."

Pete: "Only your fangs or all your teeth?"

MJ: "Just fangs."

Pete: "I wonder if that's worse than having the itch be spread out to all your teeth." He took a second to check for cars and led them across the street.

"I had an itch too before my first full moon. Covered in hives, sweaty from the fever. Everyone thought I was dying."

MJ: "Ya didn't know shit 'fore it happened? Nothin' at all? Which parent is it?"

Pete: "Nope," he said with a shake of his head. "Stella and Luke aren't like me and neither is my mom, so it was probably the other guy."

MJ: "Feel for him. He probably don't know ya exist."

Pete: "He doesn't. My mom never told him and never plans to."

MJ: "Don't matter what she wants. What d'ya want?"

Pete: "I already have a dad. I have no inner turmoil or questions. I'm at peace."

MJ: "Really? That's what you're gonna go with?"

Pete: Pete shrugged. "It's the truth. I was curious for a while, thought about grilling my mom until she told me and going to confront the guy but at the end of the day, what would that accomplish? I already have my dad. I'm already a bear. Nothing would change and nothing would be added to my life."

MJ: "Ya'd have the man that made ya what ya are n'get answers ya might have 'bout your new life. Ya can't pretend nothin's changed. 'Sides, he's got a right t'know."

Pete: "A lot has, but not as much as you'd think. I'm a bear who didn't know he was a bear who was then taught to be a bear by Druids. If he has a right to know, shouldn't my mom be the one to tell him? For all I know he's got a whole life with no room for anyone else."

MJ: MJ shook his head. "You're his blood. What she shoulda done she didn't, so she don't get a fuckin' say. Ya don't get in the way of someone's bloodline like that."

Pete: “She did lots of things she shouldn’t have, and didn’t say anything when she should’ve. That’s how I ended up having a doctor tell me I’m not my dad’s biological son.”

MJ: "They even allowed t'do that?"

Pete: “He thought I knew. I tried to donate blood and mine didn’t match. He thought I was adopted.”

MJ: "Huh." That still didn't feel right, but whatever. Doctors were the last thing he expected to be ethical.

"You're not done. Havin' him would add somethin'. More than what some druid can teach. They aren't what he is."

Pete: “I just...” Pete sighed. “Is it horrible to say that I just don’t...care to have him in my life? Like you’d think I would feel a hole there or something missing but it doesn’t feel like there is. It would be nice to meet someone else that’s like me and that can help me make sense of it all but I would almost rather it be literally anyone else. He doesn’t represent something good for me and that’s not all his fault, I know that. But...I don’t know.”

MJ: "You're sayin' this, but it'll eat at ya. Like a needle prick right now, but it'll get bigger. Shit like that always does."

Pete: "Yeah, maybe. And maybe if it does, I'll feel differently. But for now, my life feels full and complete and peaceful. I'm gonna have a new baby niece soon. My business is doing great. We're getting to know each other again."

MJ: "Your life is always rosy, ain't it?" Or at least, that's what Peter wanted it to be, so that was what he projected. He couldn't tell. He never could. The man had seemed so different since his trip to Montana. Having to chase him down in order to speak with him, to spare him Victoria Harrak. For Callum to dismiss him. This all seemed so tainted and strange, and yet hopelessly normal.

Pete: "Not always," he said softly. "There's a lot that wasn't rosy for a long time and still isn't. There's a lot between us that's far from rosy."

MJ: "I dunno ya. We're brand new." He had to remember that, or let the past repeat itself.

Pete: “You’re right,” Pete said with a nod. “We are. Is there anything from the old us that you want to hash out? That the old you always wanted to hash out?”

MJ: Deep, wasted breath. Years now, and that was a can of worms. Not nearly as gnawing post merge, but still, those thoughts existed.

"How 'bout ya go first."

Pete: "Well." A sigh. "At this point I think it's no secret that the way you left wasn't the best way or even a good way and that it had a pretty severe effect on me. And on the flip side, the way I handled it wasn't the best, or even good either."

MJ: "How did ya handle it?"

Pete: "I betrayed your trust. I hurt you. I up and left without telling anyone where I was going. When you called me I hung up on you. I didn't step in when Callum banished you."

MJ: "We were done when I left. Everything else was just me bein' selfish, so there's that. Ya did up n'leave like a dick nozzle. What happened in the woods... happened, n'it wasn't your fault. I shoulda left ya alone."

Pete: "But you weren't just being selfish. You left but there was a relationship between us, at least for me. There was trust and love and rather than make a clean break, I cheated on you and betrayed all that. It wasn't just you being selfish, you had and have every right in the world to be upset and angry at me. I would completely understand if after what I did you never wanted to see me again. And in a lot of ways, that's why a big part of me believed that I deserved what happened in the woods that night."

MJ: "Well, ya didn't, so shut up about that. Don't be a broken record. N'ya know, ya shoulda given him a try. Like, for real. If ya wanna fuck someone else, ya should be with em, otherwise ya...ya wouldn't have t'start with."

He wondered if that logic applied to him in some measure. Brett Parker, Rohan Dalca... Rohan certainly deserved better, and that was part of the reason he left. A clean slate between both men had been the purpose of the trip. To reacquaint with fresh eyes.

Pete: Another sigh. "I had feelings for him for a big part of my life. The dynamic between us wasn't great even when we were younger and a lot of different things contributed to that, it wasn't all on me or all on him. For the part that was on me, well...I have a long, long history of not dealing with things the way I should. Maybe it was never in the cards or maybe it had been at some point and never came to be.

"But then I met you. And from the moment I met you, you got under my skin and you never really left it. You were under my skin when you were making snakes appear on my bar and when you won me a stuffed elephant at a carnival and when I was in Montana and when you left and when I left."

MJ: "Is that love, though, or is that just... obsession? I dunno either, so it's more just..." His fingers flew up. Something in the ether. Just rhetorical questions that maybe they could answer.

Pete: Pete shrugged. "I don't know. I just know that I care about you. That I want you to be happy. This new person you are? I want to get to know this person. I want to learn this person, independently of anything else."

MJ: "You're still walkin' with me, thinkin' about love. This ain't gonna work if you're just thinkin' that."

Pete: "I'm not though, that's the thing. I like talking to you. This you, not just the old you. I'm already seeing the distinction between the person I knew and the person you are now."

MJ: "Yeah? What's that?"

Pete: "I'm not really sure, it's like...I don't know if the old you would've been okay with saying as much as you're saying? Or not even that, just being okay with saying what you feel and what's on your mind. Which I want you to be able to do."

MJ: "Hmm." MJ shrugged. What was now a collective mind could not notice what had always existed for itself. Surprised to hear about any changes.

"The other me was pissed n'selfish n'panicked. It is what it is."

Pete: "Do you miss yourself at all? However new this is for everyone you know, I imagine it's even moreso for you."

MJ: A thought considered for less than thirty seconds. "No. I don't miss anything. That bother ya?"

Pete: Pete shook his head. "No, just curious. Trying to imagine what it would be like to not completely be me anymore."

MJ: "You can't miss it. I don't think, because there's... nothin' to miss?" A sigh escaped him, needless, but worthy of expression. "I'll never be able t'explain this."

Pete: "Makes sense in a way, at least to my limited understanding. You can't miss you if you're still you."

MJ: "...Yeah. Somethin' like that. I have his memories. I got...some of her. I woke up feelin' reborn but like I always was...but...how two always were."

Pete: "And the people you've been living with? They've been helpful and supportive?"

MJ: "Well... some kickin' n'screamin' along the way."

Pete: "From them or you?"

MJ: "A bit of both. Had t'be chased down n'my RV invaded t'get t'this point."

Pete: Pete blinked. "Seriously? Jesus. That sounds...intense."

MJ: "Ya know what I do. I run."

Pete: "Sounds like they didn't let you."

MJ: "Nope. Damn stubborn like that."

Pete: "Speaking of stubborn." He nodded up ahead, where the bar had come into view. "We've arrived at Charlie's kingdom."

MJ: MJ threw his arms wide. "The only king I'll kneel to!"

Pete: Pete chuckled and held the door open for MJ. "Don't tell him that, he'll get a swelled head." If such a thing was even possible when one's kingdom was a sketchy bar with a sticky floor.

MJ: "I wanna see that now. Especially with havin' ya in his bar."

Pete/Charlie: "He's gotten used to having me here the past few weeks. Ain't that right, Charlie?" he added in a shout to the man himself.

Charlie saluted him with his cigarette, fully intending to go back to his newspaper when he spotted MJ.

"Well, shit," he laughed. "Look what the cat dragged in!"

MJ: "That there cancer stick is illegal in these parts, stranger! The fuck ya doin'?" A greeting for all intents and purposes. His hand came swinging over the counter for a grasping hand.

Charlie: The hand was shaken with vigor. "Bah, it ain't a real cancer stick! It's got menthol in. Refined, that's what that is. How the hell are ya, kid? What we do to be graced with your presence?"

MJ: "I've been t'Mordor n'back t'the Shire. Just needed t'go on an adventure. Ya know, that thing ya should do."

Peter was given a wink.

Pete/Charlie: Pete just smiled and ordered a beer from Dwight while Charlie belly laughed.

"Who says I don't go adventurin'? I was over there at that booth 'bout ten minutes ago and now I'm here. There's your adventure."

MJ: "Was there a battle in between? Someone lose an eye?"

Charlie: "Hell yes there was. Almost tripped over Jose's long fuckin' legs."

MJ: "Shit. I've missed so much." MJ made himself at home near Peter, splayed over a seat in cat-like fashion.

Charlie: "Damn right you have. Goin' to Walmart ain't the same without ya."

MJ: "Florida mom still thirsty for ya?"

Charlie: Charlie snorted. "Boy howdy, you don't know the half of it. Past few months she's been tryin' to march me down the aisle."

MJ: "I wanna hear all about it. What are we drinkin', Peter?"

Pete/Charlie: "We're drinking Blue Moon and wondering why Charlie won't marry Ann."

"I'll tell ya why, Petey boy," Charlie said with a squint, gesturing with his cigarette. "She still believes in the lone gunman."

MJ: "Please, educate Peter," MJ laughed. He leaned towards the werebear with a grin. "Not a Coors? With an umbrella?"

Pete/Charlie: Fondness and humor lit Pete's expression as he made a dramatic face. It warmed him to know that MJ remembered. It gave him hope.

"Never ever. I'd rather take a nap on Charlie's carpet."

"Hey now! Don't go knockin' my carpet, Dwight cleaned it."

"Tell that to Jose, there's a sea of muddy footprints around his chair."

Charles looked over and scowled. "Dammit, Jose!"

MJ: The exchanged look between two grumpy old men was priceless. The vampire couldn't help but snort. Playing human wasn't all bad; expressive if anything.

"Ya need t'fuck off with the carpet, Charl. It's older than me."

Charlie: "Whole world is older than you, kiddo, you're still just a baby. Carpet's fine for this crowd. Hasn't been a crime scene on it or nothing since at least the 80s."

MJ: "Ya hear that? At least the 80s. S'all love at O'Charlie’s."

Pete/Charlie: Pete threw his head back and laughed. "Bullshit, remember that couple who used to live over by Tristan Seger's house? Wife came in and tried to shoot her husband's dick off, remember?"

"Ohhhh, yeah, my bad." Charlie nodded. "Hasn't been a crime scene since at least 2005."

MJ: "Ah. See, that was a lifetime ago. At least get a fresh one. There are some questionable stains. Can't blame em all on Jose."

Pete/Charlie: "MJ's right. I'm almost positive some of those stains are because of you and Ann."

Charlie laughed.

MJ: Another stretch. Eyes focused on the ceiling as he leaned back. A small crack, there. Another strange stain.

"Ya always drink orange beer?"

Pete: Pete shook his head. "Nah, not always. Sometimes I drink Guinness."

MJ: "Just drink t'relax?"

Pete: "Every now and then. If I'm feeling real fancy I'll have a glass of wine."

MJ: "But not anything else?"

Pete: “Relaxing wise or drinking wise?”

MJ: "Wino type shit."

Pete: Pete laughed. “What all falls under ‘wino type shit’?”

MJ: "Drink their sorrows away."

Pete: “Yeah, no. I’m not about the wino life.”

MJ: "Didn't think ya were. Had t'make sure."

Pete: He just smiled. “What about you? What do you do to relax?”

MJ: "Games. Practice vampy things. Learn from a dog." Convoluted as shit, with a shit-eating grin to boot.

Pete: "You--a dog?" Pete laughed. With that grin he couldn't tell if MJ was kidding or not. "Does the dog teach you how to dog?"

MJ: "The dog teaches me magic. I teach him how to shoot 360 no scope."

Pete: "So he's a magic dog...?"

MJ: "Heard of familiars?"

Pete: "I have," Pete said with a nod. "Is he yours?"

MJ: "Ha! Nah. Not mine, but I mean, sort of? He's a friend."

Pete: "Gotcha. Can vampires have familiars? Are there rules for familiars?"

MJ: "They pick ya, not the other way around."

Pete: Another nod. That made sense. "So I guess species doesn't matter then."

MJ: A shrug. "Have t'ask him. He's around somewhere."

Pete: "Oh, he came with you?"

MJ: "Mhm. You'll probably see him 'fore long."

Pete: "He exploring?"

MJ: "Yeah. Or scarin' lil kids in his devil costume." His brow wrinkled. "Or makin' em laugh? I dunno."

Pete: "Man, this just gets wilder and wilder."

MJ: "What's your life been like? More France?"

Pete: “Pretty quiet on my end. No trips to France recently. My sister’s pregnant and I’ve been helping her out with my nephew a lot so she can rest.”

MJ: "What's the husband doin'?"

Pete: "They put him on the night shift."

MJ: "The fuck is he doin'?"

Pete: "He took a second job as a security guard at the mall."

MJ: "Times that hard?"

Pete: “Babies are expensive.”

MJ: "Ain't just one good job out there?"

Pete: "I think his main job is pretty decent, but I guess a little extra money never hurt anyone."

MJ: That logic was reason he never saw his father. Not one he could approve of, but this was none of his business. Something in this thoughts questioned a father's role at all. A rare moment in his new life, knowing exactly which thoughts belonged to which former soul.

"So, tell me somethin' that ain't vague."

Pete: “Umm....” Pete sipped his beer and thought for a moment. “June talked me into starting a karaoke night at the pub every week.”

MJ: MJ bit into the inside of his cheek. A failed attempt at hiding his smile. "About you, flathead."

Pete: “I’m excited to meet my niece.”

MJ: "Were ya always a family man? Ya should settle down with a nice whoever n'adopt or make some babies."

Pete: Pete ignored the pang in chest that accompanied a little voice in his head that said he’d always dreamed of doing that with MJ.

Instead he said, “We’ve always been close, yeah. But my dad’s accident brought us that much closer. Scares me how close I came to losing him.”

MJ: "Has it made everyone write a will? Hell, I think my family has that kinda thing, too. More like a keep what cha kill kinda shit, but still stands."

Pete: He nodded. "Yep. Parents already had one but now we all do, too. We'll update them when the baby's born."

MJ: "'I give my seventy-inch TV to my brand new niece upon my death.'"

Pete: "I'll hand over the whole deed to her tiny hands."

MJ: "But who are ya really givin' it to?"

Pete: "If I ever have a kid, to them. If not, to the baby and Graham and Luke's kids if he has any."

MJ: "What, they all fight over it? Who the fuck gets it if ya drop dead right now?"

Pete: "Luke. And they won't have to fight. It'll be both of theirs, equally."

MJ: "Ya sure are generous, Peter."

Pete: He shrugged. "Can't take it with me, right? It's a good house. Only right that it should go to family. They can sell it or live in it or rent it if they want to."

MJ: "Generous is thinkin' ya can give one thing to this many fingers n'think it'll all work out."

Pete: "It's not just any fingers. Those fingers are being raised by two good, sensible, compassionate people. Call me an optimist."

MJ: "Alright, optimist, let's chug some beer I'll regret."

Pete: "Wanna regret some Blue Moon or would you rather regret another brand?"

MJ: "I'll regret the Blue Moon with ya." It would all return to sender before dawn; this was about time with Peter. Whatever this time meant.

Pete/Dwight: Pete nodded and glanced toward the other end of the bar. "Another round, Dwight, when you can?"

"For both of ya'll?"

"Yes, please."

"You got it."

MJ: "Don't 'yes please' the enemy," MJ snorted. "Bein' so nice t'the rival. How dare."

Pete/Charlie: His responding laugh sounded suspiciously like a giggle. Almost.

"Ah, come on. Dwight's a pal, he can have a please. Not Charlie though."

"I heard that."

MJ: That sure was a nice laugh. He remembered that laugh.

"We’re behind enemy lines. Can't make friends with Dwight except Christmas."

Pete/Dwight: "Well then, Dwight, I formally retract my please until Christmas," he said as the bartender brought over their beers.

Dwight just smiled in his subtle way. "Looking forward to it."

"Thanks though."

MJ: MJ stared. Dwight and their surroundings were faraway realities. Blatantly staring at those lips, trying to remember exactly what they tasted like. Wondering how warm Pete's skin felt now as Fera. Did they have a specific name? Did he know it?

Why did Peter love him so much? Or had. Still.

He wondered about Rohan, what he was doing right this moment. If Xavier was occupying his time.

His focus subconsciously fell to the table.

Pete: Pete could practically feel MJ's eyes boring into him, not that MJ seemed to be making much effort to hide it. Or any effort at all.

What was running through that newly melded mind of his? Was he thinking about their history? Their present situation? Something else entirely? Pete didn't dare ask.

"Rethinking regretting the beer?" he said instead, voice softer than he intended.

MJ: "I dunno what I like. I know I'll drink anything, but..." MJ laughed, fangs unashamedly present. "Thinkin' about parsnip wine."

Fingers tapped to his temple. He didn't have to explain why.

Pete: At the sight of those fangs, Pete cast a quick glance around to make sure Dwight and Charlie's attention was elsewhere. Thankfully they were both busy.

"There's such a thing as parsnip wine?" he chuckled.

MJ: Made it before. Two hundred and something years ago. "Mhm. More beer than wine." He could practically taste it. A first in this new life. Fucking interesting. He closed his eyes, allowed the memory to saturate his thoughts.

"A wagon, campfire. Cold knees. Sex. Wine on my tongue." And breasts. Someone beneath him. Where they belonged.

His eyes opened, his smile returning. "Blue Moon is better."

Pete: Pete squinted. One word stood out above all the rest. "A wagon? Like a covered wagon?" Had Victoria Harrak been a pioneer blowing people for whatever the hell parsnip wine was?

"I'm gonna go ahead and say that yes, it absolutely is." He smiled around a sip. "Everyone knows oranges are better than parsnips."

MJ: "I like the company more," he said without thinking.

Pete: The smile grew before he could do anything to stop it.

"Right back at you." He lifted his beer in a toast. "To our health and to Charlie's questionable carpet."

MJ: "To fucked up stains on the floor." He clinked their glasses and laughed.

Pete/Charlie: "I hear ya'll over there casting aspersions!" came Charlie's voice from down the bar.

"We love you, too, Charles."

MJ: "Wonder how good them ears really are."

Pete: "Charlie's got ears like a fruit bat," said Pete. "He hears all. Must be the conspiracy theorist in him."

MJ: "I'm a vampire. You're a werebear. Charles is a skunk."

Pete: He laughed. "Are wereskunks a thing? Because he'd totally be one."

MJ: "He is one. Or a black lab. Maybe a rottweiler. Weredogs a thing?" Still waiting for Charles to chime in again.

Pete: Charlie had moved even further way; if he heard them, he gave no indication of it.

"Probably not? I think werewolves fill that role."

MJ: "Huh. I guess. I swear there's somethin'. I can see it." Oh well. Probably another one of those memories-not-memories.

Pete: “Maybe it’s some other type of creature, not necessarily a Fera. Like a demon dog or something.”

MJ: "D'y like what ya are?" A question asked softly, sotto voce, giving an ounce of real privacy.

Pete: “I didn’t really at first. It’s weird to suddenly be a bear, you know? It’s overwhelming to wake up one day and not know yourself. I’ve come around to it though.”

MJ: "Sounds the same, then. Heard some of em eat their own." MJ casually glanced around the bar, breathed in deeply. No, Charles' wasn't anything but a man in need of a shower.

Pete: Pete blinked. “Seriously? Yikes. I really hope that’s not true.”

MJ: "It is. I mean, not you but it is what it is. D'ya feel more... feral?" He expected the answer to be no, given that Peter, as far as they were aware, was born human.

Pete: "Not feral, per se. Just feel more...bear like. I swear the whole winter I was exhausted. I went to bed every night at like 8:30 like an old man."

MJ: "Ha!" So fucking neat. "Ya wanna eat everything in your fridge, too?"

Pete: "I did. I had the mealtimes of a hobbit."

MJ: "Holy fuck. I wanna see that."

Pete: Pete laughed. "You wanna see me eat twenty million times a day?"

MJ: "Yeah, actually. I wanna see ya bear out."

Pete: "Wanna hang out with me next full moon?"

MJ: "Should be here. If ya want me here."

Pete: He smiled over his beer. “I’d like that. You’re officially invited.”

MJ: "How long is that? Ya just know, or gotta look it up?"

Pete: “In a few days. I have full moons marked on my phone’s calendar.”

MJ: "How soon ‘fore ya feel different?"

Pete: “The closer the full moon gets the more bear like I feel. It’s not too much yet but it will be here pretty soon.”

MJ: "So it's both, I guess?"

Pete: “Kinda, yeah. I don’t know if I pay more attention to my bear feelings because I know the full moon is coming or if I’d feel them even if I didn’t know.”

MJ: "Should see. Never know, ya know?"

MJ stared down the barrel of his glass, let his thoughts swim for a moment in nothingness before his next sip.

Pete: Pete nodded thoughtfully. "Guess it wouldn't hurt to experiment one of these months."

He gestured toward the beer. "Any enjoyment at all in that or are you just thinking about having to throw it up later?"

MJ: "Ya remembered that?"

Pete: Another nod. "Yep. One of them vampire facts that sticks in the mind."

MJ: "Guess so. What else ya remember?"

Pete: He made a face. "The butt teeth."

MJ: "Excuse me what?"

Pete: “Guildias gave me a book that talked about this one clan who likes to experiment with body horror shit and scarred me for life.”

MJ: "Uh," MJ laughed. "Okay, I meant me. Let's leave butt teeth with the snake charmer."

Pete: “Speaking of snakes, make any appear on bars lately?”

MJ: "Look here, that was just a joke."

Pete: Pete chuckled. “A lot funnier after the fact. Thing looked so damn real.”

MJ: "Hey, I don't know ya. We're supposed t'start over."

Pete: “Right, of course.” He smiled. “Tell me about your magic dog travel buddy.”

MJ: "Mm. Well, Abel's a familiar. Not mine, but," shrug. "Gorgeous face; free to admire. He's a little terror. Insatiable. Probably'll show up 'fore dawn."

Pete: "Insatiable for food?" He hoped?

MJ: "Food n'everything else." MJ returned his gaze and squinted. He knew what Peter was getting at.

Pete: Getting at? He was getting at nothing.

“You should bring him by the pub. Bobby’s doing a lot of comfort food lately.”

MJ: "Up to him. Ya wanna meet him?"

Pete: "Sure. Always interesting to meet someone with magic."

MJ: "D'ya really wanna meet em, or ya just sayin' that?"

Pete: "I wouldn't say it if I didn't wanna meet him."

MJ: "I dunno that."

Pete: He smiled. "Fair enough. I really would like to meet him."

MJ: "How much of what ya say is 'cause of the past?"

Pete: "I'm trying not to, promise."

MJ: "What have ya said, though?"

Pete: "The snake on the bar thing."

MJ: Gasp! "It didn't look real?!"

Pete: Pete laughed. "No, it totally did."

MJ: "What else?"

Pete: "That's all, scout's honor. I really do want us to start fresh."

MJ: MJ leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin in hand. Another squint.

Pete: The squint would be met with an earnest smile.

MJ: "Don't love me, Peter."

Pete: To Pete's credit, the smile never faltered.

"We're just getting to know each other over beers that one of us will throw up later."

MJ: "Wow. Ya went there."

Pete: He chuckled. "I can't stop thinking about it. I feel bad that you have to."

MJ: "Don't want ya t'drink alone."

Pete: "Thanks, I appreciate it." He thought for a moment. "Would you still have to if whatever you were drinking was mixed with blood?"

MJ: "Depends on how much it is, I think. Probably eventually."

Pete: "My mentor's grandson told me about the neighboring prince drinking wine mixed with virgin blood, but I could never quite tell if he was serious or if he was just fucking with me."

MJ: "Probably meant it. If they're older than me - prince - then m'not surprised."

Pete: "I think he said she was a couple hundred years old at least."

MJ: "Yep." MJ stretched his arms and sank deeper into his seat. All but melting.

"Ya figured out how long ya got?"

Pete: "Over a hundred but possibly under two? That's my best guesstimate."

MJ: Without something to say, Peter was left with a smile, simple albeit genuine.

Pete: That was more than enough as far as Pete was concerned. This place they were in was fresh and new but it was good. This was good.

“Had enough of this A+ ambiance or wanna stay for another round?”

MJ: "We just got here! Regale me with stories of the pub. I pick next round. I think it's time ya had some cinnamon schnapps."

Pete: "Oh man," he laughed. "I haven't had that since I was...fifteen maybe? Snuck a bottle from the pub and my friends and I took it down to the beach and passed it around."

MJ: "Jesus. Yeah. Regale me with freckle-faced you when the world was young and excitin'," laughed MJ.

Pete: "Well, in a shock to no one, we got super plastered. It was nearly one in the morning when we stumbled home and the second my mom opened the door ready to tear me a new one for breaking curfew, I puked all over the porch."

MJ: MJ feigned disapproval, shaking his head. "How could she ever love ya after that?"

Pete: "Right? The shame of it all. I was grounded for three weeks and my dad made me bus tables to pay for the bottle we took."

MJ: "What a good boy ya are." And a wink to follow.

Pete: Another laugh. "Oh yeah, a Goldschlager-stealing teenage paragon of virtue."

MJ: "Nothin' wrong with stealin', if ya don't get caught."

Pete: "Or if you don't throw your guts up on your front porch and also your mom."

MJ: "She's never forgiven ya. She mighta said it, but she didn't. Her feet'll never forgive ya."

Pete: "It's definitely not in her Top Mothering Moments highlight reel. She tells that story literally every time she makes something with cinnamon in it and I happen to be around."

MJ: "Forever punishin'. That's a -" MJ watched the door. The couple walking in, talking passionately about something. Politics, maybe. There was laughter, so he doubted.

"That's a mom. Don't think ours would get along."

Pete: Pete briefly followed MJ's gaze, turning away again upon not recognizing the couple.

"Oh yeah? Why's that?"

MJ: "'Cause my mama woulda rubbed your back n'left it at that."

Pete: "She wouldn't have grounded me?"

MJ: "She woulda asked if ya learned anything from it."

Pete: "I did, in fact. I learned a very valuable lesson that day."

MJ: "S'all matters t'her."

Pete: "My mom liked to drive home the 'you done fucked up' point. My dad was more like your mom. If you broke something you had to fix or replace but he was a lesson guy above all."

MJ: MJ just smiled, thoughts filled with Kenna and all the lessons she had to discover herself. Lessons he'd had the shock of learning himself. Ones he refused to intervene in her coming of age. Too damn stubborn to listen, anyways. Pick and choose the battles. You only get one hill to die on, his mother said.

"How many times were ya grounded?"

Pete: "During my entire childhood? Oh, man," he chuckled. "Too many to count. Most weren't that big a deal, the Goldschlager incident was one of the big ones. Probably the biggest."

MJ: "Why'd ya do it?"

Pete: "Curiosity, dumb teenage judgment. I remember being very impressed with the gold flakes in the bottle."

MJ: "That's it? Just 'cause ya could?"

Pete: "Pretty much. Boredom probably played a part, too. It was during the summer."

MJ: "Look at chu. Thought ya woulda had t'have some kinda excuse. Maybe somethin' angsty."

Pete: Pete just smiled and finished off his beer. “Nah, I was just fifteen and dumb. Being grounded during the summer by the way? The worst.”

MJ: "You're just old enough iPads didn't rot your brain. We were spared."

Pete: “Right? Being bored was an integral part of growing up.”

MJ: "I was never bored." Said like a challenge.

Pete: “Spoken like a man that never broke a window with a soccer ball.”

MJ: "Your mama punished accidents?"

Pete: “I’m sure she would’ve done something, but my dad standing beside her dying laughing kinda ruined her plans.”

MJ: "Kinda dig ruined plans these days."

Pete: “She barely got the middle names out when my dad just started wheeze-laughing.”

MJ: "I only got the middle name once."

Pete: "Only once? Impressive. What caused it?"

MJ: "Gettin' kicked outta college."

Pete: He nodded. "Yep, that'll do it."

MJ: "More like gettin' caught with my hand in the cookie jar." He shrugged. "But you. You're a bad boy. Gettin' caught all the time."

Pete: "The soccer ball incident was all Luke. That's why he's a goalie, he can't aim for shit."

MJ: "His center of gravity is better than ours. He should be the best."

Pete: "You'd think so," Pete chuckled. "But nope, he can't aim. He played goalie in school and for a while for our weekly game but his true calling is being ref."

MJ: "Knew a guy that every game hit someone's car."

Pete: "Accidentally? Or on purpose?"

MJ: "Baseball wasn't his game."

Pete: "Damn. He ever break any windows?"

MJ: "Fuck. Mike broke many fuckin' windows. Sent one flyin' into Jock's fuckin' shoulder. Hit a teacher's car. Hit his mama's car. It was fuckin' great."

Pete: Pete laughed and shook his head. "Jesus Christ. Mike, my guy, you should've cut and run after like the second window."

MJ: "Mike's a father now. He teaches his kid how t'play."

Pete: "Did the kid inherit his skills?"

MJ: "No idea." He gestured to his body. "Don't keep in touch anymore."

Pete: "I kinda hope the kid broke one of his car windows."

MJ: "Same. Probably will. That whole family is klutz."

Pete: "Bless their hearts. I feel like breaking windows is a rite of passage for kids. Even June and her siblings broke one."

MJ: "June?" Oh! He snapped his fingers. "The lil fake blonde!"

Pete: "Thankfully the fake blonde days are long since past. She's stayed brunette and boxes now."

MJ: "Punched her boyfriend out?"

Pete: "No but I hope she goes back and does it someday. She's bartending now. Waitress days are long gone too."

MJ: "She a strong independent Latina now."

Pete: "She is. She's a cat mom, too. Her cat is my cat's brother."

MJ: "...Ah." The damn cat again. That link to a man he intended to visit. One of these nights. Maybe.

"Ready for that second round?"

Pete: "Yep. Let's relive my youth, minus the puking and grounding."

MJ: "Well. One of us is gonna do it. I'll take the bullet." Dwight was waved down and given their order. A leap from Blue Moon to say the least.

Pete: "You're a real trooper, and I mean that."

Dwight had no reaction to the order beyond a nod but Charlie, who was back at their end of the bar, couldn't help but chuckle and shake his head.

MJ: MJ just smiled. A tricky subject to broach, but he wanted to.

"So. How's your love life? Any hook ups?"

Pete: Pete shook his head. "Nope, none. Love life is pretty much non-existent."

MJ: "What a perfect waste of a good beard."

Pete: He snorted. "You sound like Sylvain."

MJ: "Which one is that?"

Pete: "My mentor's grandson. The one who told me about the virgin blood wine."

MJ: "See, this why I think ya need t'find your dad."

Pete: "...Because I'm not hooking up?"

MJ: "'Cause your mentor ain't a bear."

Pete: "Gaetan being my mentor pre-dated me finding out I'm a bear. It's just another thing he helped me through, I didn't seek him out specifically because of it."

MJ: "How'd ya find him?"

Pete: "By pure chance," Pete said softly, something quietly awed in his voice. "In a marketplace."

MJ: "He just took ya home with him?"

Pete: "Not quite." He nodded his thanks to Dwight as their drinks were placed in front of them.

Once he was sure no one was listening, he continued. "I'd been in St. Malo a couple of days and went to the marketplace after a local told me about it. I go, look around, have some breakfast, pretty standard. But then as I'm walking around, I start to feel like someone is staring at me. You know that feeling when all the little hairs on your neck stand up? That but more...I don't know, intense? So I stop and look around to see if I can spot who it is when I see this old, old man sitting at a little table beside a produce stand. He looked about ninety-something and he's staring right at me, like he's trying to see through me. We make eye contact and he just smiles and beckons me over."

MJ: "Your mentor is in his 90s?" Was all MJ had taken from the story so far. He imagined some frail old bastard with a beard down to his knees. Eyebrows untamed bushes, ridiculous and forgotten. A man to use his walking stick to smack sense into idiot children.

Pete: Pete smiled. "Patience, grasshopper. So he's beckoning me over and I'm standing there wondering if I should move closer or turn and walk in the other direction. For god knows what reason, I move closer. He points at the chair in front of him, I sit. Then he pulls out this little leather pouch and asks me what my name is in heavily accented but perfect English, which caught me off guard since a lot of the older people I met couldn't speak English that well. Anyway, I tell him and he dumps out the little pouch--which had runes in it--and proceeds to cast them for me to tell me my fortune."

MJ: Patience, then. He was hungry for more. That which he'd been ignorant to during their relationship. Things he no longer had the energy to wish for. In regards to Peter and to Rohan, he felt numb. Victoria's doing, no doubt.

"A hot piece of ass in your future. A great fortune n'a bigger cock."

Pete: He snorted and shook his head. "Not quite. I don't even know if I can call it telling me my fortune. He just told me stuff about me. How I was feeling, where I'd been, what path I was on. Very spiritual. And unsettling. Mostly unsettling if we're being completely honest, but also intriguing? I don't know if that's the right word for it but it made me want to keep sitting there talking to him. He had this energy about him that felt familiar and not familiar at the same time. I felt like..." He squinted, trying to find the right words.

"You know that feeling you get in dreams, where the people you're interacting with are completely real to you in that moment but some part of you knows it's not?"

MJ: "I don't dream much anymore, but I know what ya mean. I think. Things bein' real n'not real is kinda my schtick. So then what happened?"

Pete: "Actually yeah, it's kinda like the snake on the bar. Not to keep bringing it up or anything but as I was looking at him I felt the same way I did that day. That split second of believing the snake was completely real before my brain remembered it was an illusion. Something about this mysterious old man seemed like an illusion as I was sitting there with him, even though I knew he was completely real. The woman running the stall talked to him, a few people that passed said hello to him. He was definitely real and he could definitely tell I was having this internal debate, I'm sure I looked confused as hell. It amused him enough to invite me to his house for lunch. Well, their house I should say, because it turned out the woman running the stall was his daughter. And once again, for god only knows what reason, I accepted the invitation and went to their place for lunch. I say house but really it's a villa."

MJ: A simple sentence in that statement tightened MJ's brows. Restricted his attention to the rest of the story. A story of an illusionary man was intrigue enough, but that damn statement wouldn't leave him be.

"Remembered it was an illusion?"

Pete: "Maybe I didn't phrase that right." He thought for a moment. "You ever see footage of like...supposed hauntings or UFOs or something and there's that initial mental gasp before something kicks in that tells you that what you're seeing isn't real?"

MJ: "Is that a challenge?"

Pete: "Definitely not," Pete chuckled. "Not here at least. Maybe you can test me when you come along on the full moon."

MJ: "Was it 'cause it didn't move?"

Pete: "Partially. It was insanely realistic though."

MJ: "Did things all the time. Ya just didn't -" That's not what this was meant to be. He couldn't break his own rule. "Drink your schnapps."

Pete: Pete took an obedient sip, and almost instantly a smile broke out across his face.

"Tastes like being a dumb teenager."

MJ: "So, like begin' sick?" Being sick, verses what he really wanted to say. Polite-ish company and all.

Pete: "Nah, everything that came before. It was fun before the being sick and getting grounded."

MJ: "Bein' grounded didn't do shit. Ya badass kid."

Pete: That got a laugh. "No one has ever called me that, ever. It didn't stop me from being dumb but it sure ruined my life for three weeks."

MJ: "Shit's slower as a kid. Of course it was for-fuckin-ever." A thought which had him looking down the bottom of his glass. "They say it gets like that after two hundred. Ya know. Them."

Pete: He nodded as he took another sip. "Gaetan says that, too."

MJ: "After how long?"

Pete: "I doubt you'll believe me if I tell you."

MJ: "Guess ya really did have your own adventure."

Pete: “It was an adventure and a half. I really hope I’m not boring you, I know it’s a lot.”

MJ: "Boring me? The fuck ya think you're talkin' to?"

Pete: "Just making sure! Not everyone likes hearing long-winded things."

MJ: "Well, lucky for ya, I happen t'like em."

Pete: "I'm glad," he said with a smile. "You and Gaetan would get along."

MJ: "Why's that?"

Pete: "He likes long-winded stories, messing with people, going on adventures. He's been to space."

MJ: "Long winded makes em sound shitty." A finger raised. "Space?"

Pete: “Space!"

MJ: "Elaborate!" he laughed.

Pete: "Should I pick up where I left off or tell you the space part?"

MJ: "I think we need t'digress right quick."

Pete: "He's always been really fascinated by space and astronomy so as soon as being an astronaut became a thing that people could do, he became one. He worked on the very first American space station in the 70s."

MJ: "He's a fuckin' astronaut? Name in the books n'everything? How'd he get away with that?" He knew how Kindred could. Information a now simple subconscious existence. It hadn't occurred to him to consider outside of his circle.

Pete: Pete just smiled again as he took another sip of schnapps. "The same way I thought he was a ninety year-old man."

MJ: "Ya can't just glamour a fuckin' background check!"

A quick glance around. Ignore the yelling biker.

Pete/Charlie: Everyone mostly did, except for one Charles Brandt.

He squinted at MJ. "The hell ya'll talking about over there?"

MJ: "Lion tamin'!"

Charlie: "Pffft, sure, and Marilyn OD'ed."

MJ: "What? Ain't seen Tiger King?"

Charlie: "Who's the tiger king?"

MJ: "Bless ya."

Charlie: "Don't patronize me, ankle biter."

MJ: "I mean it! Saved precious hours of your life!"

Charlie: "Oh. Well that's all right then."

MJ: MJ returned his rescuing smile back to Peter.

Pete: "Nice save," Pete said under his breath.

MJ: "Baby, m'all about saves."

Pete: "You really friggin' are. And to answer your question, he's not currently an astronaut but he's thinking about giving it another go soon. He fabricates identities fairly regularly."

MJ: "So, guess the older ya get the more perfect ya are."

Pete: "He's had a loooong time to get the process down pat."

MJ: "I don't trust anything that sounds perfect."

Pete: "I don't know if I'd describe him as perfect. He's perfected a lot of things just because he's so goddamn old but the man himself? Human as human can be."

MJ: "Hmm. Don't trust anything that old with humanity."

Pete: Pete chuckled. "That the vampire in you speaking or just you?"

MJ: "Maybe both. Don't judge me."

Pete: "Oh no, I don't. I can completely see why someone wouldn't trust him, I don't blame you."

MJ: "But ya did."

Pete: "I did, yeah. Feels like he stitched me back together. Not just him, though. Being there, the whole experience."

MJ: "Mm. I can't say shit on the matter."

Pete: "Sounds like you had your own similar experience, only in a different setting."

MJ: "What, runnin' away from shit?"

Pete: "With your demon friend."

MJ: "Apples n'oranges."

Pete: "True. But they're both still fruits at the end of the day."

MJ: His mouth opened - closed. "Nah. M'thinkin' a tomatoes."

Pete: "Tomatoes?"

MJ: "Fruit."

Pete: "Well, it might not go in a fruit salad but it's still a fruit, too. That's all life is. One big salad."

MJ: "Dude, you're a fuckin' hippie."

Pete: Well he was just all smiles now, the corners of his eyes crinkling in delight as he finished off his glass. "Yep, 'fraid so."

MJ: "I miss the man that would throw punches." He didn't mean to say that out loud, but too late. He would mirror finishing his own glass to shut his mouth.

Pete: Pete tried to temper his expression. It was comforting to know he wasn't the only one to have a slip on this new leaf of theirs.

"If it makes you feel any better, he threw one a couple weeks ago."

MJ: Like a dog with perked ears. "Who deserved it?"

Pete: "Creepy old perv that cornered a kid at the park."

MJ: "The fuck? How many times did ya punch him?"

Pete: "Twice. Cal and I had gone to the soccer field one evening just for fun and when we first arrived at the park there was this group of kids hanging out by the swings. Oldest one looked about fourteen. When we were leaving we passed by the playground again and there was only one of the kids left and this mouth-breathing cockbag had him pressed against one of the poles."

MJ: "The fuck did he - Did ya tell Bre..." Oh. Right. That can of half-dead worms. MJ looked away, arms coming in to cross and rest on his stomach. "The sheriff woulda taken care of him."

Pete: "He did. Cal called him while I tried not to commit murder."

MJ: The vampire's lips slowly thinned. "How is he?"

Pete: "Regrettably still alive, but in the county jail."

MJ: "Nanana - the uh, the sheriff."

Pete: "Oh! He's fine. Also had to resist the urge to commit murder. Actually the second time he had to resist, and for the exact same reason."

MJ: "Thought this was gonna be a meth town. I'd rather a meth town. Whatever." With that, he was on his feet, fishing for his wallet.

Pete: "The only comfort--if it can even be called that--is that the cockbag doesn't live here. Fucking tourists."

He quickly shook his head and reached for his own wallet. "No no no, you don't have to do that. I'll get it."

MJ: "Why? Did ya win the lottery?"

Pete: He just smiled and placed a few bills on the bar. "Let your new friend buy your drinks, wouldya please?"

MJ: "New friend tryin'ta get in my pants?"

Pete: "New friend who will hold your metaphorical hair while you're sick."

MJ: "Tisk. Aw jeez. What a pal." A five was tossed out of friendly spite.

Pete/Charlie: Pete just laughed and waved goodbye to Dwight and Charles. "Good seeing you, Charlie."

"You, too, kid. Ya'll come back now."

MJ: "Ya go treat yourself t'the spa! On me, Charl." The door was allowed to close with its own weight behind him.

Pete/Charlie: "There are cheaper ways to get a happy ending!" Charles called after them.

Pete shook his head as the door closed. "Ol' Charl never changes. He's gonna outlive us all."

MJ: "If he's anything he hides it like a pro."

Pete: "He's probably just some kind of super human powered by stubbornness and whiskey sours."

MJ: "My uncle lived on canned beans and bacon. Anything's possible."

Pete: "Some people just have that gene I guess. So. Where to now?"

MJ: "Need t'find some kinda spell t'push this town closer t'the city."

Pete: "And have them city slickers ruining the place? Never."

MJ: "Nothin' t'do 'round here. How did I - mm." A hand clasped firmly to his stomach.

Pete: Uh oh.

He looked around for a suitable bush. "Over there. Easy does it now."

MJ: "'Easy does it'? Did ya gain fifty years while I was gone?" To the bush, then.

Pete: "I've got a pregnant sister I've been saying it to a lot. Need anything to make this easier?"

MJ: Peter was waved off. "Fuck off for a minute." No one needed to see vomit and blood and hear the retched sound.

Pete: "Yep, can do." Pete was just gonna step a safe distance away and turn around while MJ did what he needed to do.

MJ: The unmistakable sound would reach Peter's ears within moments. Spit and curses following. All for the sake of company and some shred of domesticity.

"Where to now? My place. I need some fuckin' Listerine."

Pete: Pete winced. Not because of the sound, he'd heard worse. He just wanted MJ to feel comfortable.

"Sure thing. Need a napkin or anything?"

MJ: "Don't fuckin' baby me. I got it."

Pete: "All right, all right. Lead the way then."

MJ: Miles to the mobile home park. To the same lot which had been his years ago. The same people, the same attitudes. Not so late in the night for silence. A herd of children were being rounded up by two men armed with water guns.

Leslie Issott waved with his free hand, saying nothing in his passing. Yellow and pink squirt gun still aimed at his neighbor's son.

Pete: It had been ages since Pete had walked down this way, or walked this much on a non-full moon night. Something to remedy now that the weather was starting to warm up.

Pete smiled at Leslie as they passed, returning the wave.

"Place always looks exactly the same," he said absently. "Or it seems to, anyway."

MJ: "S'real people. Kind m'not interested in - in that way, ya know?"

Pete: He nodded. "Yeah, I can understand that. Any of them roll out the welcome wagon for you?"

MJ: "Just got here." Tunnel vision for this meeting, MJ hadn't lingered long enough for anyone to say hello.

Pete: Another nod. "Bet someone does before long."

Pete's eyes narrowed as they approached MJ's house. "Does your RV look...newer?"

MJ: "Uh... yeah. Other one kinda... broke."

Pete: "Really? Huh. Well, an upgrade is always nice."

MJ: "I guess. Shit happens."

Yes, it was his RV, but he was going to knock for Abel's sake.

Abel: Abel was sitting upside down watching something on his phone when the scent of MJ registered a moment before he heard the knock at the door.

"I'm not naked!" he called. Although at this point, did it really matter? They'd been living in the same space for ages, what was a bare ass between friends.

MJ: A statement which put a smile on MJ's face. A wink to Peter before opening the door.

"Good, 'cause I got innocent eyes here that don't need t'see your dangly bits."

Pete/Abel: Pete's brow furrowed in confused amusement at the shouted greeting.

"Is he usually naked?" he asked before they stepped inside.

Abel turned toward MJ and their surprise guest. He gasped. "Did you make a friend? In less than twenty-four hours?! I'm so proud!"

MJ: "Shaddup. This is Peter. Remember Peter? " Said casually, of course, but the look in his eye was one which said "be nice" in all capital letters above his head. If only he could manage that without Peter noticing.

Pete/Abel: Whether Pete noticed or not, he was going to pretend he didn't.

Abel did though. "Oh! Yeah, I do!" He righted himself and got to his feet. "Hi, Peter, I'm Abel. I promise not to show you my dangly bits."

Pete laughed and reached out to shake his hand. "I appreciate that. You can call me Pete, by the way."

MJ: This felt awkward. Hours and hours and miles and miles leading up to this moment, and he wanted to turn his ass around and pull Peter by the collar.

And yet, in contrast, why care? What was the point?

"Gonna swish." Abel was given another look. "I did the thing."

Abel: Abel made a face. "Ew, gross. Forget swishing, go whole hog and brush your teeth. I'll entertain Pete with some jokes and an improvised dance number."

MJ: "I need t'put on some cabaret?" He'd certainly hum some on the way to the bathroom.

Pete/Abel: “Every little thing helps!” Abel called after him, swaying along with the tune until it faded.

He turned back to Pete and smiled. “All right. I’m gonna bounce. I owe you some jokes.”

“Oh no, you don’t have t—“

“I don’t but I do so I’m gonna. Good to meet you, Pete.”

“Abel, really—“

“Nope, trust me, you both need this.”

And just like that, he was gone.

MJ: He did a thing, now Abel did a thing. He could feel it in the silence. What side was the damn familiar on?

"It got quiet," gargled from behind the bathroom door.

Pete: “Uh...yeah, it did. Your friend decided to make himself scarce.”

MJ: "What did he think, we gonna fuck?"

Pete: “Does he? You know him better than I do.”

MJ: "Askin' if he said that or somethin'."

Pete: “He just said we both needed this.”

MJ: The door was carefully kicked open while he swished. Words in neon orange above his head, struggling to remain visible.

'You agree?'

Pete: Impossible not to smile. A small bit of magic perhaps but incredibly impressive. Sure beat the hell out of pantomiming.

"Maybe, yeah. Do you?"

MJ: He didn't want to just dismiss the idea. Abel was meant to be some sort of buffer. Part of the reason he'd been brought across country. Abel must have known that.

The neon changed color, faded to yellow question marks.

Pete: "He could've felt like he'd be intruding by staying. Or he didn't wanna make it weird."

MJ: Time to spit. "Was it weird?"

Pete: Pete shrugged. "Not at Charlie's, but that was more familiar. Meeting someone new is always a little weird. Even for normal people."

MJ: "Familiars eat that shit up. Least that one does." The door was shut behind him. Jacket tossed over the nearest seat.

Pete: "Maybe he just wanted to give you some privacy." He smiled. "You know, like friends do."

MJ: "Maybe he thinks we'll fuck."

Pete: Another shrug. "A logical assumption, I guess. Anyone would think the same."

MJ: "Anyone? 'Cause we had a wild year t'gether?"

Pete: "People assume far more about people who've known each other for far less."

MJ: MJ leaned his shoulder against the nearest bit of wall, picked at his less-than-perfect fingernails.

"Ya remember what ya said t'me, once, 'bout how I didn't give ya enough attention?"

Pete: Pete nodded and looked down at his hands. He remembered every excruciating moment alongside the good ones.

"I do."

MJ: "What was it?"

Pete: "I said..." A sigh. "I said that I felt like I had to share you with everyone, that you seemed to have time for everyone but me."

MJ: "I didn't vamp into this." He gestured around the RV. "I was raised in one of these until Kenna was born. Daddy got us a brick n'mortar, but I still lived in the RV. Never had a curfew. No questions but if I had a good time, if I got caught. If we wanted t'get up n'go, we got up n'went. M'not used t'this." Pointed between them.

"I left Rohan, too. Just got that itch. Wasn't safe, it said. Then I got chased. Everything screamin' at me t'save myself. Like bein' backed in a corner." More picking at his nails, looking up to continue.

"I loved Rohan. I loved you. Still do, but that's just love. That ain't... enough reason t'do anything more than say I love ya."

Pete: They'd had such different upbringings. Not quite polar opposite, but still different. He tried to imagine his own parents taking that approach, tried to imagine how he would be and how his siblings would be if they had.

A dull, familiar ache pulsed in his chest as he offered MJ a small smile. "I don't have any illusions or expectations of anything more. I didn't even have illusions or expectations of that. Hope, sure, but not any expectations. I just want you to be happy and okay."

MJ: "But ya wanted me here. I get wantin' texts or somethin'. I get that now. Back then, that was too much, but that's on me."

Pete: "I probably was, too. Too needy, too emotional, asking too much. If I was, at any point, I'm sorry."

MJ: "Ya wanted the picture. I ain't ever been the picture, Peter."

Pete: "Well, it's like the Stones say, you don't always get what you want. It was unfair of me to try to fit you into some ideal. Some mold. You deserve better than that from someone who loves you."

MJ: "N'ya deserve someone that's around. M'not gonna always be around. Ya deserve what ya always wanted."

Pete: "The rest of that lyric is 'if you try sometimes, you get what you need'."

MJ was given another smile. "You know what I really want? Something real. Not the ideal or the mold or the thing that looks like what everyone thinks it should look like. I just want something real."

MJ: "How m'I supposed t'know what ya really mean n'what you'll say t'get what ya want?" Spoken carefully and clearly despite his accent, words as delicate as the situation.

Pete: Pete gave a small shrug. "I think this is something where actions speak louder than words. I can tell you all day but that won't make you believe me. I have to prove it to you."

MJ: Fingernails were beginning to warm from constant picking. Too good of a distraction.

"Same."

Pete: "So I guess my question is, what can I do to prove it to you?"

MJ: "I don't have the answer, either. Thought about it the whole way here. Only thing I came up with was pretendin' we never met."

Pete: "Well..." He offered up smile. "We've made our introductions, new friend. The rest is in the lap of the gods."

MJ: "Ya believe in that stuff?"

Pete: "In gods?"

MJ: "Mhm."

Pete: "I don't think I'm a capital 'B' believer, but I do, yeah. I pray my Druid prayers every day. It comforts me."

MJ: "Callum, I guess?"

Pete: Pete shook his head. "Madeleine. Gaetan's current eldest daughter."

MJ: "Current eldest?"

Pete: "His family tree is pure chaos. Took me a long time to get it straight. He's had countless children in his life, countless daughters. Madeleine is his eldest at the moment and she looks like she could be his mother."

MJ: "He just lets em all die?"

Pete: "He gives them a choice."

MJ: "Sure." He didn't know enough to have an opinion, outside of the wary of druids and their strange magic.

Pete: Pete didn't understand it much either, but it was one of those things he hadn't felt comfortable inquiring on further.

"Yeah, so. Madeleine was the one who suggested I join her during her evening prayer and eventually taught them to me. She said people derive comfort from their prayers. She must've thought I looked like I needed comfort."

MJ: "What were ya like 'fore I came here? The guy I met at the bar, I only knew him for a little 'fore ya became this."

Pete: "I'm not all that different. From my perspective anyway. Just less angry, not in as much inner turmoil, or that weird feeling of limbo I didn't realize I had."

MJ: "Maybe what ya fell in love with in me ain't here anymore."

Pete: "I could say the same to you. You may very well decide I'm insufferable and not want anything to do with me." Pete shrugged. "We won't know until we get to know each other."

MJ: "How d'ya wanna get t'know me? Ya got somethin' in mind? Ya thought about this, didn't ya?"

Pete: He just smiled. "Only thing I had in mind was to take you with me on a full moon. Or invite you at least. Maybe go for a swim, catch some fish."

MJ: "I'll come with ya. Yeah. But what ya wanna do until then?"

Pete: "Right this minute? We could watch something or go down to the pub with Abel."

MJ: "We just left a bar!" MJ laughed.

Pete: "We don't have to drink! We can just be there and people watch or bother Bobby. Watching something is also an option at the pub, I put a TV in my office."

MJ: "You're a workaholic."

Pete: “I put it up there precisely so I could have a little break from work. And the cats really like it.”

MJ: "Catsssss?"

Pete: “June brings Socks with her so he can hang out with his brother.”

MJ: "N'people think I'm a nut."

Pete: “You got nothing on us crazy cat people,” Pete said with a grin.

MJ: "I mean, rat person. Totally different breed."

Pete: “Midas is a rat person, too. Only hunts bugs and sticks.”

MJ: "I don't trust a face that beautiful."

Pete: “That beautiful little face once watched a field mouse eat his food and just meowed and looked sad.”

MJ: "The mouse will always come back now."

Pete: "He definitely did a couple times before we came back to the States."

MJ: "Alright, so ya want outta the RV?"

Pete: "Unless you wanna watch something here or just keep talking. I don't much mind where we go."

MJ: His mind was pulled in two directions. One simple and safe, one convoluted and certainly unsafe. Maybe a test. One which pushed leadership into Peter's hands as he stepped closer, less than the appropriate distance of acquaintanceship. His scent had not changed. Leather, gasoline, nature. The same cinnamon toothpaste. MJ took a breath, wanting to breathe in nostalgia.

Pete: Pete went very still as MJ approached, watching him with quiet curiosity and perhaps just a hint of caution.

He did smell exactly the same, reminded Pete of exactly the same things. Of his motorcycle and the forest. He wondered if he did, too. He still wore the same cologne, still smelled vaguely of smoke, still used the same soap.

So many things had remained the same and once upon a time, Pete would've just leaned forward to kiss MJ, easy as anything. But not everything was the same; there were things that had changed. They had changed.

All Pete could think to do was smile and say, "Let's go walk on the beach."

MJ: Well, there were some of their answers. Not the expected reaction of the man he'd once fallen to pieces over. Maybe that spontaneity had aged; maybe that new scent brought with it a composure his Peter hadn't possessed. Either way, he couldn't expect change and what had been his sweetheart to remain the same.

"Sure."

'You're gettin' hazed when ya get home. Ya in my head, pup?'

Anyway, a new shirt, same jacket. "Lead the way."

Pete/Abel: Spontaneity had given way to caution, at least for now. He wanted to kiss MJ. To hug him and cling to him and have everything be exactly as it had once been, as easy as it had once been.

But if he gave in to those wants, he risked losing MJ entirely. MJ could take it as proof that Pete wasn't really prepared to start at square one or that he was too hung up on who MJ had been to accept who he was now. And kissing MJ once right now wasn't worth potentially losing him. As ready as Pete was to fight for him and as willing as he was to start over, he wasn't willing to take that risk.

Pete smiled. "All right. I can show you the two-headed turtle."

'I made myself scarce! It's polite to make yourself scarce when your roommate brings his ex home!' Abel thought back.

MJ: The voice in his head, feminine and ripe with wisdom reminded him that this was for the best. Nothing lasted forever, not even immortals. Why should love be any different? A human lifetime was gone in a snap. Fera fell right behind them. Where were druids? These were not hills to die upon.

But he loved them both. He loved the memory of one, and the purity of the other. Hills.

'He's not a - doesn't matter! I needed a buffer ya dick!'

Peter was shooed from the door, locking the RV behind him. Not a barrier for the familiar. 'Go get laid or somethin'.'

Abel: 'Well then you should've said so! Communication, MJ. Remember that whole conversation we had about sharing our feelings with that homeless guy in Nebraska?'

But if it was buffer MJ wanted, then buffer he would get.

Within moments, Abel would come barreling out of the darkness with a tennis ball in his mouth, once more in dog form.

MJ: Fucking goddamn!

"Didn't wanna go get laid, huh?" The ball was grabbed from his mouth, thrown further down the dirt road.

Pete/Abel: Pete's brow furrowed as he scented the air. "...Abel?"

A confirming bark before the familiar went racing after the ball.

MJ: "Did ya just sniff the fuckin' air?"

Pete: "Oh, yeah," he chuckled. "I do that now. I also scratch my back on trees."

MJ: "Like, in both forms?"

Pete: "Nah, tree bark hurts in human form. I use door frames in human form."

MJ: "My fuckin' god, dude. How do they feel? Morphin'."

Pete: "Like becoming a human rubik's cube, or clay. I don't know what giving birth is like but I imagine it's kind of like that."

MJ: "Hurts like bein' squeezed outta a three-inch tube, or does it feel good... eventually?"

Pete: "A three-inch tube, yes, that's exactly it. But when it's done, there's just relief. Which is how my sister described childbirth."

MJ: "Yeah, some chemical shit makes ya forget." His smile reignited. "Childbirth. That's funny as shit. Givin' birth to yourself, I guess."

Pete/Abel: Pete laughed. "Yep, that's me. Giving birth to myself once a month."

Abel ran back towards them, ball in mouth.

MJ: "Toss it for him. He's really a dog like this."

Pete/Abel: "It's like when I'm a bear." Pete took the ball from Abel and tossed it, chuckling as the dog went racing after it again.

MJ: "Ya completely gone under the fur?"

Pete: He shook his head. "Not completely. The first few times I blacked out but now I'm fairly aware when I transform."

MJ: "But I mean, ya have... a bear brain, I guess?"

Pete: "Yep, along with everything else. I'm exhausted the whole winter, eat a ton leading up to it. And I now have actual chest hair."

MJ: "I dunno how to ask; my rats have linear thoughts n'great memory. Super simple. S'what I me - wait what?"

Pete: "Chest hair. I've got some now. A good bit actually, teenage me would be thrilled."

MJ: "Lemme see."

Pete: Pete tugged down the collar of his shirt just enough to expose some of his new crop of chest hair. It wasn't at the most extreme end of the hairy chest spectrum but it held its own.

MJ: "Shit, ya got more than me now," he laughed.

Pete/Abel: "It's them bear genes," Pete said with a grin.

And once more out of the darkness came Abel. It was MJ's turn to toss the tennis ball and the familiar showed no signs of getting tired. It had been a while since he'd played fetch.

MJ: The ball was taken and bounced between hands. He threw! but no he didn't. The ball held behind his back.

"I think about... things we didn't do."

Pete/Abel: "You mean other than playing fetch with a magical dog?"

Abel fell for it. Completely. His current doggie brain didn't realize MJ hadn't thrown the ball until he got about 20 feet ahead of them.

MJ: "Wow that really works." The ball was thrown in truth down their path.

He waited for those ears to get far enough away.

"People assume shit, with how I look. Big dudes like big dude things."

Pete: Ah. Those things. A sudden vision of the dream he was convinced he'd shared with MJ came into his head.

"Yeah. I'm familiar with that particular assumption. I made it of you, didn't I?"

MJ: "Don't blame ya. I didn't open my fuckin' mouth."

Pete: "I didn't ask and I should've. That was an important conversation to have."

MJ: "We talk with our bodies. I gave ya all sorts of conversation. I loved all of it. I'm also a liar."

Pete: "There was plenty to love. And for the record? Makes no difference to me."

MJ: "You're a fuckin' bottom if there ever was one," MJ grinned.

Pete: Pete laughed. "Can't argue with that, I guess. But I've flipped that coin before. I am technically bi, you know."

MJ: "So am I. Most people are, they just don't say shit. S'what I think."

Pete: “Yeah, maybe. Point is, I have no objection or...aversion to coin flipping.”

MJ: "I guess I don't, but like, m'still dead."

Pete: "And I'm a forest creature."

MJ: "Ya don't cum blood."

Pete: “We can’t help what form our bodily fluids come in.”

MJ: Peter was given a look. A long stare of scrutiny as they walked.

Pete: He just gave MJ an earnest smile and took his turn throwing the ball when Abel came back with it.

"I've had a lot of time to think about it."

MJ: "About my bodily fluids?"

Pete: "About all of it. Conversations, feelings, everything."

MJ: "Wanna spill?"

Pete: "Told you about that dream I had, right? About us?"

MJ: That had been one hell of a night. He squinted in the darkness. "Sounds... familiar."

Pete: "Well, we were in this dream version of my living room or somewhere and we were...like we used to be. You were in my lap and it felt so normal and we had one of those silent body conversations and it was so clear that...well, that the coin should've been flipped. I don't know how I didn't see it."

MJ: "Didn't want ya to, I guess." Abel was lifted under his arm, tennis ball bounced for the sake of teasing.

"Breakin' our rules left n'right."

Pete/Abel: Abel made a couple of half-hearted attempts to snatch the ball but all that running had worn him out. Better to catch his breath.

Pete smiled. "Yeah, we are. I should be asking how the cross-country drive was."

MJ: "About as fun as roamin' France, probably."

Pete: “Did ya’ll do a straight shot on highways only or have a proper road trip?”

MJ: "Dirt roads. Largest ball of yarn, corn fields in Nebraska, that kinda thing. Walked the streets of Chicago. Met a girl." He swiveled his hand. "Long trip here."

Pete: Mention of a girl would be ignored. For now. "Sounds like it. You know there's cryptids in those cornfields. My grandpa used to tell us stories about them."

MJ: "Nothin' surprises me anymore. Not about what exists. Tell me ya got abducted by aliens, maybe that'll get me."

Pete: “Not me, but by all accounts Grandpop Hiram did.”

MJ: MJ slowly turned his head to face his old boyfriend.

Pete: “No shit,” he chuckled. “He told me, right hand to god, that he got abducted while driving down a country road in the middle of the night and they didn’t return him until the next morning.”

MJ: "Now that'll take me a minute. Coulda been a fake memory."

Pete: "It could've, except that he didn't get returned in the same place. He woke up on his front lawn, truck nowhere to be found. The old sheriff found it abandoned in the middle of the road, keys still in it and everything, except no Hiram. Luke and I asked Peabody to see if there was still a report on file and there was, just like grandpop said. Abandoned truck in the middle of the road, lights still on, keys in the ignition."

MJ: "N'he don't remember jack shit? 'Sides bein' taken." A vampire, and even he felt that sting of doubt. Like what he imagined delirium to be like for kine.

Pete: "No, he did. He remembered laying on a cold surface and bright lights and shadowy figures standing over him."

MJ: "Ah. See, nah. That's too 50s."

Pete: "It was in the 50s."

MJ: "See?! No way, man. He's why we got movies like Close Encounters."

Pete: “Orrrrrr there just isn’t that much variation to how alien surgery is performed. Anyway, grandpop had that thing where his eyes were different colors and he said that after that incident, the colors were switched.”

MJ: "Heterochromia," a word smooth from his tongue, of course, having such eyes, though not quite the same.

"I don't think a little green man is gonna travel lifetime after lifetime after lifetime just to poke some flesh n'set it free."

Pete/Abel: "Yes, that word. And judging from what everyone says, that's exactly what the little green men do. Right, Abel? Back me up."

Abel barked once before thinking, 'Yeah, he's totally right,' to MJ.

MJ: "Ya ain't seen no goddamn aliens, Abe."

Abel: 'Hey, I could've seen aliens, you don't know. We spent a long time in Nebraska with Kenny the homeless guy. Ooh! I bet Kenny's seen aliens.'

MJ: "Of course Kenny's seen aliens. Guy had a mullet n'worked with corn in the 70s."

Pete: "Who's Kenny?" asked Pete.

MJ: "Some homeless dude we met in Nebraska. Had a thousand tales. Probably half true."

Pete/Abel: "And Kenny has a mullet, worked with corn, and has seen aliens, huh?"

'If anyone has, it's definitely--wait he can't hear me. MJ, if I switch back so I can talk will you still carry me?'

MJ: "Sure, piggy-back." Abel was placed on the ground between their feet.

"Yeah, all that Kenny stuff."

Pete/Abel: Once on the ground again, Abel gave himself a good shake and switched back to his human form, which was a far more streamlined process than Pete was used to. And Abel even got to keep his clothes on.

"Hi again!" the familiar said brightly. "Up, please!"

MJ: MJ bent his knee, waiting for that familiar weight of the familiar before returning to pace. This was completely normal.

"So yeah, Nebraska."

Pete/Abel: “Sounds like a hoot,” said Pete, smiling as Abel scrambled up on MJ’s back and clung to him like a koala. “Were any of Kenny’s maybe true stories about aliens?”

Abel shook his head. “No but he had a lot to say about drones and the pesticides they use on the corn.”

MJ: "He was on the same tree, not the right branch. Ya believe that shit?"

Pete: “The drones or the pesticides?”

MJ: "Both."

Pete: “The pesticides are fact. The drones, I’m not so sure. At least on a Big Brother kind of level. All those YouTube kids have drones.”

MJ: "If I had it my way there'd be no security cameras ever, but I'm fuckin' biased, and kinda fuckin' dead."

Pete: “I don’t think there’s any escaping them now. You can escape the YouTube kids though.”

MJ: "Gets easier n'harder at the same time."

Pete: “That’s progress, I guess. Keep an eye out for a rock with a turtle painted on it.”

MJ: "This metaphorical or literal?"

Pete: “Literal. It’s the marker for where the two-headed turtle lives.”

MJ: "The fuck are we doin' again? The beach?"

Pete: “Yes, and we’re also visiting the two-headed turtle.”

MJ: "Alright. Two-headed turtle it is. Wanna see a two-headed turtle, Abe?"

Abel: “Do you even have to ask? I’d go anywhere to see a turtle, especially if it has two heads.”

MJ: "I sure love not bein' the only weirdo."

Abel: “Turtles aren’t weird!”

MJ: "No. They're slow speech and wise. You. You're weird."

Abel: “For loving turtles?” Abel scoffed. “Nuh-uh. You’re weird, you like cowboy music.”

MJ: "What's wrong with Garth Brooks?"

Abel: “All his songs sound the same.”

MJ: "N'Reba?"

Abel: “Isn’t that a sitcom?”

MJ: "I'mma drop your ass."

Abel: Abel laughed. “You wouldn’t, Pete would think you’re a meanie.”

MJ: "I am a meanie. How d'ya not know Fancy? Or uh, The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia?"

Abel: “And here I thought Fallout Boy had long song titles. Why is all country music about the south? The north has countryside and cows too.”

MJ: "Folk, bluegrass, country, southern rock, country rock, hillbilly, blues, bluegrass; s'all countryside."

Abel: “Aren’t you Hungarian? How does a nice Hungarian boy develop a taste for the banjo and ballads about trucks?”

MJ: "I was born here, believe it or not. My old man just happens t'like that shit."

Pete/Abel: “Ah, well, we all need a guilty pleasure. Right, Pete?”

Pete smiled and nodded. “Right. Also we’ve arrived.” He pointed at a rock with a turtle painted on it. “Callum warded his home so some piece of shit kid didn’t kill it or kidnap it.”

MJ: "How's that work? Kill the kid instead?"

Pete: “What, no. It just keeps them from getting too close. He read a story about some little assholes killing a swan’s babies and it upset him so much he started warding every nest he found.”

MJ: "Ol' Callum's magic. Ya might like em, Abe. I see X in him. They'd hate each other or love each other."

The familiar was placed back on his own feet.

"N'I'm more than just Hungarian. Ya know that."

Pete/Abel: “They’ve met,” Pete sighed. “Cal’s not a fan.”

“He’s not alone in that.” Abel stretched. “Xavier is an acquired taste. Like kombucha.”

MJ: "See? Love or hate. Here's my thing: they're alike. Can't tell ya how. I ain't that articulate. They just are."

Pete: “Well, whatever you do, don’t ever say that to Callum,” Pete chuckled. “Have you talked to him since you’ve been here?”

MJ: "Have I?" He looked to Abel and laughed.

Abel: Abel grinned. “Xavier? He pops into our heads every now and then. Or to the RV. I think he misses us.”

MJ: "Think he means Cal."

Abel: “Oh! Yeah you definitely have. I haven’t.”

MJ: "Yeah, see. Definitely have."

Pete: “How did it go?” asked Pete.

MJ: "M'still alive. Hallelujah," MJ smiled.

Pete: Pete smiled back. “Yes you are. And he didn’t chase you around with a broom or sic the dog on you?”

MJ: "Not tonight. Maybe later. I'd probably deserve it."

Pete: He shook his head. “No, you don’t. He knows that, deep down.”

MJ: "Sure." His go-to when he had nothing to add, he realized. Wondered if that had always been the case, and too lazy to change it.

Pete/Abel: Pete just smiled and led MJ and Abel over to where the turtle liked to spend its time.

Sure enough, at their approach, two little heads poked out from the brush.

“Turtles!” Abel went in for a closer look, crouching so he was closer to the turtles’ level.

MJ: "Are they sayin' anything, Abe? They some hive mind, or they hate each other?"

MJ took to crouching by the familiar's side.

Abel: “I dunno, I can’t talk to them without that spell. Maybe you can talk to them.” He wasn’t sure if turtles greeted by sniffing but he offered them a finger anyway. “Hey there little guys!”

MJ: He'd take to the ground, then, chin against folded arms. Did turtles even make sounds? He waited patiently for eye contact, his only means of establishing a connection.

"Hey there, uglies."

Pete/Abel: “MJ!” Abel and Pete said in unison.

Being closer, Abel would be the one to give his friend a light smack on the shoulder. “Don’t be rude. They’re so cute! Don’t listen to him, fellas. You’re fantastic.”

One the heads seemed determined to stare anywhere but at the two beings before it. The other showed a bit more interest.

MJ: "I bet ya want your own body, huh?" Only one mind to speak with. Interested in all things. This existence was the only existence; he couldn't miss what he'd never had. Not the way humans lamented. His brother, not so much. More aware, perhaps.

"Y'all hungry?"

Pete: “I take it you mean the turtles,” said Pete, looking around for something the little reptiles could eat. “Ask them if they like snails and worms.”

MJ: "Can't go wrong with strawberries. Abe, got any? Or some snail 'bout to meet their end?"

Pete/Abel: “On me? Nope. There miiiight be some in the fridge? Can’t say what state they’re in though.”

Pete, meanwhile, was already on a snail and worm hunt. He couldn’t hear them in his human form as well as he could in his bear form but he liked to think he could a little bit. At least we’ll enough to find a snack for a two-headed turtle.

MJ: "What ya think, uglies?" They couldn't argue; this was free food either way.

Meanwhile, MJ would lay on his stomach in front of them, having their own private conversation.

Abel: Another smack to the shoulder courtesy of Abel. “They’re not ugly! Think of a cuter nickname for them. They’re special, they need a cute nickname.”

MJ: "What's wrong with bein' ugly?!"

Pete: “Absolutely nothing but they’re not ugly, they’re adorable. Ask them what their names are.”

MJ: "Fine! Fine." He searched for the brother's eyes, urging contact and a conversation to follow.

"They ain't got names. Most things don't. Just feelin. Like... this one's left n'this one's right. My other half, kinda thing. Alright. Larry n'Todd."

Pete/Abel: Abel’s face lit up. “Perfect! Larry and Todd, I love it. They look like a Larry and a Todd.”

“Soup’s on.” Pete returned with a couple of slugs and a worm.

MJ: "Hey, that is inappropriate wordin' 'round turtles."

Pete/Abel: “Oop, you’re right. Sorry, boys.”

“Larry and Todd!” Abel said cheerfully.

“Ah. Sorry, Larry and Todd.” He placed a slug in front of each head.

MJ: "I think they share a stomach. We'll find out in a minute." And away they went, chowing down on their little feast in what shadow they could find.

Pete: “They probably do since they share all their other parts. I think. They’re the only two-headed anything I’ve ever seen.” Pete offered the worm as well and left the little turtles to eat.

MJ: "Some share the same brain. Saw it on YouTube. Mama would show a picture to one head n'the other would know the color."

Pete: “That’s incredible. Must be difficult to adjust to life attached to another person but when it works, it’s incredible. I’m guessing they weren’t able to safely separate the people in the video?”

MJ: "Hell no. Same brain! Or part of brain, but yeah. Like those guys from the Circus way back when. Just an inch of skin kept em together, but they shared a liver."

Pete: “Oh! Um...dangit what were their names...Chang and Eng!”

MJ: "There's a reason I love ya."

Pete: Pete tried and failed to hide his smile. “My recall ability for names?”

MJ: "Ya know your freaks."

Pete: “I do what I can. Didn’t Chang and Eng have like a dozen kids?”

MJ: "Think so, yeah. Ain't gonna let an inch of skin stop em."

Pete: “An inch of skin and a liver.” He shook his head in awe. “Fucking incredible. I wonder if being conjoined gave them any abilities. Seems like the kinda thing that would.”

MJ: "Abilities? What, like you?"

Pete: “Not necessarily. Something non-Fera related. Something...I don’t know, magical. Possibly psychic.”

MJ: "Ya got an imagination on ya. That's for sure."

Pete: “I blame Graham’s books,” he chuckled. “Been reading a lot of them.”

MJ: "Graham?"

Pete: “My nephew.”

MJ: "Ah. Graham Graham. Of course."

Pete: “Yeah. He loves him a bedtime story. Can’t tell you how many times we’ve read Alice in Wonderland.”

MJ: "Ya know, I get I fit the description of people that'd like it, but nah."

Pete: “Mad hatters and hares and magic potions not your thing?”

MJ: "Vampire ruined it for me."

Pete: “First time Stella read it to Graham he painted all their roses red. She was horrified, Callum was tickled pink.”

MJ: "Ha." Reminded him of Brett. Left a taste in his mouth.

"What cha wanna do now?"

Pete: “I picked the walk and the turtle. Your turn. Or Abel’s if he wants to take one.”

MJ: "What cha wanna do, Abe?"

Abel: “Hmmm....” Abel thought for a moment. “I need a snack. And a cherry coke. And possibly some rainbow sherbet.”

MJ: "So we raid the Walmart?"

Abel: “Yes!” Abel said brightly. “I love Walmart!”

MJ: "That's about the most trash thing ya ever said. Don't ever let X hear ya say that."

Abel: “He loves Walmart, too, he owns a crap ton of stock.”

MJ: "That ain't the same as love. Trust me."

Abel: “Walmart keeps our Xavier in the Armani suits and it keeps us in cherry coke and rainbow sherbet. And chips.”

MJ: That reminded him, he should check on his own stock before sunrise. Another one of X's bits of advice. Same as his father. A truck driver with more stock than he knew what to do with. He wondered how his old man was.

"Walmart can keep ya in the chips without the stock, I promise ya that."

Abel: “Yeah, you’re probably right. This whole country loves it. So are we going?”

MJ: You have no idea what I mean and that's cute.

"Yeppers." He looked to Peter with a smile. "Comin'?"

Pete: Pete smiled and nodded. “Sure! I could go for a cherry coke. How are we getting there?”

MJ: "I dunno how to fly a broom yet, so..."

Abel: “I can take us!” Abel piped in. “I already know where it is, I saw it one day when I was exploring. Everyone take a hand.”

MJ: "Careful with Peter; he's a delicate honey bear."

Pete: “I’ve teleported before,” Pete said as he took Abel’s hand. “Feels like getting squeezed through a straw on a tilt-a-whirl.”

MJ: "More druid stuff?"

Pete: “Another familiar.”

MJ: "How many familiars ya know?"

Pete: “Just one other. Callum’s cousin has one.”

MJ: "Huh." Abel's hand was given a squeeze. "So why ain't Callum got - why were ya flyin' around?"

Pete/Abel: “I needed to take a trip to New Orleans to visit someone.”

Abel squeezed both their hands. “Okay, you two, enough chit chat. I need sherbet! Ready?”

MJ: "Ready." He wasn't taking his breath. What would be the point? "What friend in - I didn't know ya had people there."

Pete/Abel: “Ready,” Pete echoed.

“All rightie. MJ, hold that thought. Petey, deep breath.” Abel held their hands to his chest and transported them across town to the Walmart. This time of night, there would be no one around to notice three men appearing out of thin air.

MJ: Still, MJ looked around. A hand came to rest on Peter's chest as though to steady him.

"Gonna puke?"

Pete: Pete, whose eyes were squeezed shut, held up a finger. He was trying to take deep even breaths to settle his body.

MJ: "Boy I'm sure glad I don't have to deal with that shit." Abel was given an appreciative smack to his shoulder.

"A trucker's feast, huh? Let's get ya some chips."

Pete/Abel: A few more moments and Pete finally opened his eyes.

“All right, I’m good. Let’s get junk food.”

Abel didn’t have to be told twice. He practically skipped into the store and led them first to the frozen section for sherbet.

MJ: MJ waited for Peter to fall into step with. His arm draped over his wide shoulders and squeezed.

"So back to New Orleans. Talk."

Pete: “Oh, right. Well, I don’t exactly have family there. Callum’s cousin is there and she’s my friend but mostly I went to visit the grave of my previous incarnation. Clarke.”

MJ: "Goddamn every single time ya speak ya got some sorta life changin' adventure. What the fuck did ya just say to me?"

Pete: Pete couldn’t help but laugh. “I guess I do, huh? I found my previous incarnation in Paris. In a photo, obviously, not in person.”

MJ: "How did ya chain them events together?"

Pete: “I didn’t at first. Took a few weeks before the chaining really got going.”

MJ: "Gonna explain in detail?"

Pete: “I don’t have to if you don’t want to. I know this is the kinda thing no one but me cares about.”

MJ: "I mean, sure. I'm more curious 'bout how ya found it. Sounds like a huge coincidence."

Pete: “It kinda was. Coincidence or fate, if you wanna look at it that way. I was in the exact right place at the exact right time. Walked by a frame shop right as the owner was placing a frame with his photo in the window.”

MJ: MJ looked ahead for Abel, stumbled a bit on his own feet, pushing into Peter. "And ya knew who it was?"

Pete: Pete immediately reached out to steady him. “Not then. All I knew was that something about the photo struck a chord and drew me in. So I bought it and after asking the owner if she had more photos of him, I bought those too.”

MJ: "Why she have a bunch of old photos? People buy that shit?" His mouth bunched to one side. "I dunno 'bout fate. Just seems too specific." He shrugged. "Anyway go on."

Pete: “It was a frame shop, she has a lot of random photos. She thought it was a shame for them to be in a box somewhere so she used them for her displays. She knew him, you see. Her brother had taken the photographs and she’d gotten them after he passed.”

MJ: MJ's brows began to knit. "Fuckin' how old was your past self? When was this shit?"

Pete: “Clarke died in 1981. He was thirty-one.”

MJ: "...Well, ya lived longer this time."

Pete: Pete nodded. “Yeah. Feel some kinda way about that.”

MJ: "What, worry or somethin'?"

Pete: “He was too damn young to die.”

MJ: Peter guided them for a row of bagged chips and processed dips, jerkies and candy bars, while MJ stared at him.

Pete: He forced a smile and brought himself back to the moment.

“Yeah, so. That’s how I found my reincarnation.”

MJ: "You're one of them people that loves themself."

Pete: “Not in a romantic way. Or a ‘gee, I’m so great’ way. Finding him was like finding a friend I’d lost. Made me feel less lonely.”

MJ: "I think I know what ya mean, but," he shrugged. "Guess I'd have to meet a me to know. That me don't exist."

Pete: “Reading his journals is the closest I’ll get to meeting him.”

MJ: "Maybe not. There's magick for everything. Depends what you're willin' to pay."

Pete: He shook his head. “This is the way it is. He died and now I’m here and someday I’ll go and there will be another link in the chain. Journals and some memories are more than so many people get of their past lives.”

MJ: "So, what, ya gonna start writin' journals for your future self?"

Pete: “I already have.”

MJ: MJ looked around for Abel. Nodded to him. "What ya think of that? Would ya love yourself?"

Pete/Abel: Abel had found a basket and was already busy filling it with gloriously unhealthy things.

“If I was a decent person then sure, I don’t see why not,” he said with a nod and a shrug. “Pete’s right, most people don’t get to learn about their past incarnations. It’s rare.”

MJ: "Fuckin' 'if'? You're an 'if'?" He laughed. Abel was about as chaotic as himself, but the admission, intentional or otherwise, tickled him.

"Ya 'bout done?"

Abel: “Hey, you never know. Past me could’ve been a dick.”

Abel looked down at his basket. “Just about. Still need cherry coke.”

MJ: "Next aisle." Memory from his previous employment. Felt like yesterday since he'd worn that stupid fucking vest.

Better to work for and with Xavier. For himself.

"Why ya feel like ya needed him? You're him. Was it like... findin' yourself?"

Pete/Abel: Abel moved away under the pretext of the soda and left them to talk.

Pete sighed. “I was going through a rough time when I learned about Clarke. Couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, felt the worst about myself that I ever have. He gave me hope. Comfort.”

MJ: "Rough because of that night?"

Pete: “It was a lot of things. Too many things all at once.”

MJ: "Sounds too easy."

Pete: “What does?”

MJ: "That answer. I dunno. Don't really like vague answers with close people. Strangers, not close."

Pete: “Well, that night happened. My dad nearly died. Found out he wasn’t really my dad after I tried to donate blood to keep him from dying. Had my private business out in the open for several weeks and was constantly bombarded with it. That specific enough?”

MJ: MJ watched, patiently. "Ya angry?"

Pete: Pete sighed. “No. But me saying it was a lot of things all at once wasn’t a cop-out. It’s me not wanting to give that whole spill of misery.”

MJ: "S'misery I wanna hear. S'misery I helped make. S'you. Talk for hours. Yell for hours. I don't give a fuck. It's you."

Pete: He didn’t quite know how to feel about that. There weren’t many people in his life that had ever given him carte blanche to yell or express his feelings with abandon. It was as foreign as it was touching.

“...Thanks. Walmart probably isn’t the ideal place for that kind of conversation though. Suffice it to say, I was having a really shitty time mentally and emotionally and learning about Clarke made it less shitty.”

MJ: "Ah shit, we've heard worse here. We're like Olive Garden. 'When you're here, your family.' N'shit."

MJ bumped into Peter's shoulder again. Something to pull him away. He stretched his shoulders and looked around the neighboring aisle for the familiar.

"Wanna see somethin'?"

Pete: “I’m positive that’s true but the aforementioned having my private business out there situation has made me a little more careful with where I have those conversations.”

Pete smiled and pointed out Abel, who’d made his way to the cracker aisle. “Sure. What kinda something?”

MJ: "Somethin' fun. Learned t'fuck with Abel over the years." Years. He'd never said that out loud before. What had been of their relationship was a toddler's age. People changed. His transformation was not much different than the man beside him. A beast in a man. A beast of a man.

"Watch him." A laser line of red whizzed past Abel's feet and over the nearby box of Ritz. The line returned from under the shelving and split off into three.

Abel: Abel, blissfully unaware of MJ's schemes, was on a single-minded hunt for Goldfish.

Well. Relatively single-minded was probably more accurate, because the sudden appearance of red light had his attention immediately. No matter how many times this gag was pulled on him, it was impossible to resist. He had to find and hunt down the lasers!

MJ: MJ bit against his cheek, helping conceal his laughter all of three seconds before bursting with a pfft and a snort.

Pete: Pete wasn't far behind; it was impossible not to laugh. "He really is a dog, isn't he?"

MJ: "Yep. Down to wantin' scratches behind his ear n'his leg kickin'."

The red lasers disappeared under the fat dairy fridges.

Pete/Abel: "Is he allergic to chocolate too? Or does his having a human form cancel that out?" He shook his head. "The whole having a human and animal form thing is still new to me. Not looking forward to being exhausted all winter."

Abel was helpless to follow the lasers as far as he could. It was a good thing the store was deserted this time of night because a grown man peering under the fridges definitely would've raised some questions.

MJ: The camera was brought out. Making a short video for the Atlas staff and family to enjoy. Priceless.

"Abe! Have I seen ya eat chocolate 'fore?"

Abel: Abel looked up like he'd been caught with a hand in the cookie jar. "Huh? Chocolate--what?"

MJ: "Will it kill ya?"

Abel: "Chocolate? Only in dog form."

MJ: "Well, there ya go. Let's get a chocolate pretzel. Lemme live vicariously."

Pete/Abel: “Okay!” He took one last look under the fridges—just in case—and got to his feet. “They’re usually with the candy and nuts.”

“They are,” Pete confirmed.

MJ: Peter's shoulder was given a gentle nudge. "Ya gettin' somethin'?"

Pete/Abel: “My cherry coke aaaaand....Goldfish. And hot fries.”

“I got us Goldfish!” Abel called over his shoulder. “Knew you seemed like a Goldfish kinda guy.”

MJ: "The fuck are hot fries?"

Pete: "The far superior sibling of hot cheetos."

MJ: "I... was a cheese puffs kid. Nah. Take that back. Bugles."

Pete: "Well then let's find some Bugles so you can live even more vicariously."

MJ: "I already up chucked once tonight."

Pete: "Once is enough. I'll bravely eat them for you."

MJ: "Smellin' em is enough. I need candles of my old faves."

Pete: "I know someone who makes candles, if that's a serious request. I'm sure she could do something."

MJ: "She make candles smell like root beer and Bugles?"

Pete: "I don't think anyone's ever made a Bugle candle, but if anyone can, it's her."

MJ: "Druid?"

Pete: Pete nodded. "Yep. Callum's cousin Bronwyn. She owns a shop, sells candles and trinkets and witchy things."

MJ: "For real witchy or tourist witchy?"

Pete: "Tourist witchy on the surface, real witchy if you know what to look for. Gotta fly under the radar."

MJ: "Wanna take a look at that later, Abe?"

Abel: "Yeah!" As their snack haul had officially outgrown their basket, Abel divided the overflow between MJ and Pete's arms. "Did you want vicarious root beer, too, MJ? Or just the Bugles?"

MJ: "I can swish that shit and spit it out. Let's just go with Bugles."

Abel: Abel made a face. "Yeah, you definitely need a root beer candle. That's just wrong."

MJ: "What's wrong is that leech in Chicago chewin' tobacco."

Abel: "Ugh, god, the spitting can. Why not just vape like everyone else?"

MJ: "I love that you're offended."

Abel: "Spitting. Can. Spitting can, MJ."

MJ: "Angry puppers."

Abel: "I'd rather have to breathe in a cloud of cigarette reek than watch a grown ass man with ugly teeth spit into a Budweiser can."

MJ: "Have ya seen them motherfuckers vapin'? The look on their fuckin' millennial-Z faces?"

Abel: "At least they're not spitting into cans. I'll take them over that."

MJ: "Tryin'a think of worse. Can't think of anything but them people that ate mummies."

Pete: "Okay, all right, enough spit and mummies," said Pete, making a face himself. "Only snack talk allowed. Let's go get the cokes."

MJ: "But mummies were snacks," MJ grinned.

Pete: "Not for us, they're not."

MJ: "Bet Guildias did it once."

Pete: "Now you're just being a troll."

MJ: "What? Think he wouldn't?"

Abel: "Moratorium on mummies, please," said Abel. "We're having such a nice day, I'd rather not have any more cursed images in my head."

MJ: "Any more? What else ya got in there?"

Abel: "Spitting. Can."

MJ: "In all your forty years, that's the worst?"

Abel: "It's up there."

MJ: "What's the worst?"

Abel: "Very drunk middle-aged lady answering the call of nature in a very gross men's bathroom in Berlin. Except she wasn't using the toilet."

MJ: "How d'ya find this shit?" A certain word in that question had him biting his cheeks.

Abel: “Xavier was meeting a guy about a certain cursed artifact.” That last said in a whisper.

MJ: "Hope it wasn't her."

Abel: “God, no. She just happened to be there at the same time.”

MJ: "I think Peter needs a dangerous night with us. Soon."

Pete: "What does a dangerous night with the two of you entail?" Pete asked, squinting.

MJ: "Goin' wherever we want, take whatever we want. Robin Hood or Punisher."

Pete: "Sounds like a barrel of laughs. I'm sure the two of you don't want a wet blanket like me tagging along."

MJ: "What would a wet blanket do?"

Pete: "Request that you don't take whatever you want because...the law."

MJ: "Did ya forget ya dated a thief?"

Pete: "No, I didn't forget. I also never went with you, or I would've requested that you don't take whatever you want because the law."

MJ: "Just a paladin ya are."

Pete: "A what now?"

MJ: Peter was given a look.

Pete: "What?"

MJ: "Ya hang with druids... and don't know what word?"

Pete: "Can't remember hearing it from them. This something that I should add to my notebook?"

MJ: "I mean, I got it from a video game."

Pete: Pete shrugged. "Video games use real things all the time, they just don't know it. Maybe some do."

MJ: "Ya seriously never heard the word 'paladin'?"

Pete: He shook his head. "I don't think so, no. What does it mean?"

MJ: "Ya know, the heroic knight that doesn't budge from his noble cause!"

Pete: "Ah, so the modern-day wet blanket," he chuckled.

MJ: The smile MJ gave was private. Something for the two of them as they lagged behind.

"Ya just ain't punk anymore. That I see. Prove me wrong."

Pete: Pete snorted. "Was I ever punk? Doubt it."

MJ: "Of course ya were. Ya punched people out. Ya shouted. Ya locked me out the bar with fuckin' garlic. We made scenes in the bar with Budweiser n'lil umbrellas."

Pete: "Every single one of the people I punched had it coming." He smiled. "Locking you out with garlic counts as punk?"

MJ: "About the most punk bitch thing ya did to me."

Pete: Pete laughed. "I ever tell you Peabody sat me down and lectured me about how I handle trouble at the pub? I tell you, if he ever has kids, his dad voice is gonna be legendary."

MJ: "Didn't think he'd give a shit."

Pete: "Only when the people I punched went to tell on me."

MJ: "So what he say?"

Pete: "Don't break the tourists, use your words, did I wanna get sued, stop making paperwork for him."

MJ: "Fuckin' pussies," he muttered under his breath.

Pete: “Some people have no business drinking in public. Or even being in public.”

MJ: "Some people don't deserve the things they got. S'what I'm for," he smiled.

Pete: Pete chuckled. "The vampiric Robin Hood, dispensing karma to the arrogant."

MJ: "Goddamn right."

Pete: "What is your latest heroic act, Robin Hood?"

MJ: "Heroic?" MJ glanced to Abel.

Pete: Pete grinned. “Robin Hood was a hero, kinda. Depending on who you ask.”

MJ: "Still give t'Kenna. Gave to a uh, no-kill shelter. Well, Abe gave to em. Daylight hours."

Pete: “Both worthy causes,” he said with a nod.

MJ: "I don't even remember mentionin' her."

Pete/Abel: "It was a long, long time ago."

Abel, for his part, was busy grinning to himself and picking up any snacks that seemed interesting as they walked. This had been such a good idea, they were going to eat great. Not healthy at all, but great.

"Are we ready to check out?" he asked them. "Do we need anything at home?"

MJ: "Uh, nah. I don't need... anything." Still trying to remember his mention of his sister, as well as a sudden urge to extract that information from Peter. The not knowing suddenly mattered. Ah. Of course. He understood now.

"What I say about her?"

Pete: Pete shrugged. "Just that you had a sister and that her name was Kenna, like Callum's aunt. Nothing beyond that. You really don't remember?"

MJ: "Nah. My memory ain't that perfect. I remember every time we swam, though."

Pete: He ducked his head and smiled. "Yeah, I remember that, too. I'm an even better swimmer now. Good fisher too."

MJ: "Better fuckin' be. Ya got no excuses now," he smiled.

The cashier lady was someone new. Another little reminder of how long it had been since working here. Never again.

Cash was pulled from pocket, intent on paying for both.

Pete/Abel: Abel gently smacked MJ's hand away. "No no no, put that back where it came from. I got this."

Pete's hand would be given similar treatment when it ventured to reach for his wallet.

MJ: "The fuck ya smackin' me for? It all comes from the same place!"

Abel: "It's the principle!" He pulled out his shiny new credit card and put it in the chip reader before he could be stopped.

MJ: "Cards. Pfft." Abel's hair was given a rough tangling.

Abel: "Heyyyyy!" Abel tried and failed to squirm away. "X said we have to use it every now and then."

MJ: "S'how he keeps tabs on ya."

Abel: "He can do that anyway."

MJ: "The man doesn't put all his eggs in one basket."

Abel: "He has a zillion baskets. Thanks!" he added to the cashier, taking the card back and splitting the shopping bags between the three of them.

MJ: MJ looked into his appointed bag and frowned. "Food don't smell the same. Don't taste the same. I don't wanna look at gazpacho n'grilled cheese again. It'll be fucked."

Abel: Abel patted MJ’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, buddy. I won’t let those get ruined for you.”

MJ: The vampire scoffed. "Least X don't like paella. Ain't had that fucked."

Abel: “Nope, he’s a fancy ham kinda guy. We’re not though! Where are we going to eat our feast of champions?”

MJ: "I know some docks we can borrow." Seemed too late at night for a certain someone to be awake.

Abel: “Cool. Think of the place, everyone grab an arm.”

MJ: MJ linked an arm with Peter's. He was warm tonight, as though recently fed.

What he had in mind was Callum MacGillivray's dock. Private enough, with the exception of a druid that might or might not be home. Might or might not be asleep. More besides, Peter could feel safe here, as a kind of home turf.

Pete: It didn't go unnoticed by Pete. For a brief moment, he forgot entirely that MJ was a vampire and attributed his warmth simply to him.

Letting MJ guide him, Abel transported them to what he'd initially thought was one of the docks by all the other docks, but this looked like someone liv--

"Callum's house?" Pete asked once they'd arrived and he managed to open his eyes.

MJ: "What he won't know what hurt him." MJ winked, heading out to the very edge of the dock.

Pete: Pete chuckled and shook his head. “He’s asleep anyway. Always goes to bed early when he’s working on an event.”

MJ: "What's the event now?"

Pete: "Some charity dinner thing."

MJ: Away with the black sneakers, removed with his feet as he walked, left behind as he reached the edge and took a seat.

"Some charity thing ya believe in?"

Pete: "I don't even remember what it is. I wanna say it was something school related? Or maybe book related?"

He joined MJ and began looking through the bags for his hot fries.

MJ: Away with the leather jacket. March be damned, he was preparing for a swim. Socks followed, tossed over his shoulder.

"They do that winter gala thing this year?"

Pete: "They did, yeah," Pete opened his bag of chips and took a handful. "It was a big hit as usual."

MJ: "They need, like, a summer cocktail party... thing."

Pete: "There's the fireworks and stuff for the Fourth of July."

MJ: "Not the same as a little black dress."

Abel: "A little black dress goes against the spirit of summer!" Abel said around a huge mouthful of rainbow sherbet.

MJ: "A red, white, n'blue dress with bitchin' heels."

Pete/Abel: "They can throw a beach party for the Fourth of July!"

"They kinda do," said Pete.

MJ: "I just got put into a suit. Chicago. I actually have a suit now."

Pete: Pete grinned. "Yeah? Can't picture you in a suit."

MJ: "Looks like I'm goin' to a funeral."

Abel: "It does not! Don't let him fool you, Pete." Abel gestured with his plastic spoon. "He looks all respectable like."

MJ: "I didn't even try! Just let X pick it out."

Abel: "You let the man with a closet full of fancy bespoke suits pick a suit for you." He gestured again. "You were going to look fancy and respectable no matter what."

MJ: "Still ready for a funeral. Didn't even wear the tie."

Away with the shirt, now.

Abel: "The tie makes you look like an investment banker," Abel giggled. "Or a hedge fund manager."

MJ: "Don't put that shit on me. Just cause I got money don't mean I gotta dress like the dead."

Abel: "Investment bankers and hedge fund managers are alive!"

MJ: "Not on the inside. Their blood is shit, too."

Pete: "Have you ever fed from one?" Pete asked.

MJ: "Just one. Before Edenton."

Pete: "And they tasted....bad?"

MJ: A nod. "He was also fat, and I couldn't find a vein for shit. She had to do it."

Abel: Abel took another enormous bite of ice cream. "Stick to the athletes, man. Gotta get your vitamins."

MJ: "Vitamins and veins." With that in mind, a backwards fall into the quiet water.

Pete: Pete glanced back toward the house, half expecting Callum to have sensed their presence and woken up.

There was no need for concern; the windows remained dark.

"How's the water?" he asked.

MJ: Dark hair had immediately matted in his face, curtained his eyes. "Good enough for a swim. For the dead. Dip a toe in."

Pete: "Eh, why not." Pete put his chips aside and set about taking his shoes off and rolling up his jeans.

This time of year the water was still fairly cold, but he didn't mind. He'd gone swimming in the dead of winter before.

MJ: "Fuck yeah. Hop in, Abe! I'll throw ya a stick!"

Abel: Abel stuck his hand in the water and pulled it out immediately. "It's freezing!"

MJ: "You're a dog!"

Abel: "Dogs still feel the cold!"

MJ: "Tell that to a Saint Bernard!"

Abel: "They're huge!"

MJ: MJ opened his mouth, ready for a dirty throwback before thinking better of it, sinking into the water instead.

Abel: Abel squinted. "I see your mind going in the gutter there," he called as MJ slipped beneath the surface. "I see it!"

MJ: A middle finger emerged from the depths.

Pete/Abel: “Wow, rude. And in front of Pete.” He leaned closer to Pete and whispered, “Do you think he can hear us down there?”

Pete chuckled and whispered back, “We probably sound a little muffled.”

MJ: MJ watched from below, sinking further to the bottom. The instinctual fear felt back in 2010 nothing but memory. A little unspoken merit to unlife he'd never seen in film, nor read in his favorite comics.

Abel: Abel squinted and moved closer to the water. "MJ, can you hear me?" he whisper yelled.

MJ: Nope. Just muffled of what he assumed was a conversation between them. He began to feel at the bottom, looking for anything Callum might have lost over the years.

Pete: There would be more than one interesting find beneath Callum's deck.

A travel mug that had been knocked off his sailboat when the water had been particularly choppy one day. A spoon he had dropped while enjoying his morning tea on the deck. And last but not least, a dog's collar and a whistle.

MJ: All of which collected no different than a man combing the beach for shells. The items were returned to the surface and brought other deck.

"Thought y'all were gettin' in; the fuck?"

Abel: "Pete is, I'm not," said Abel. "We were testing to see if you could hear us."

MJ: "Sounds like bein' underwater." The little trinkets were pushed further from the edge.

"Get the hell in here."

Pete/Abel: Pete would resume getting undressed, but Abel remained staunch in his refusal.

He shook his head. "Nuh-uh. I'm staying up here and eating my ice cream."

MJ: "Lemme have a lick." He kept going back despite flavors being nothing from memory. Thinking, maybe this time.

Pete/Abel: Abel scooped up some sherbet and offered MJ the spoon while Pete finally dove into the river.

MJ: Just a small taste. Something he could spit out without concern.

"Mm. Nope." River water could wash that out.

Now to find Peter and pull his leg. Literally.

Pete/Abel: "Aw. That makes me sad. I'll finish the whole pint in your honor."

Pete was floating on his back and looking up at the stars, feeling utterly peaceful until a certain someone came along and gave him a yank.

"Oy!" he laughed.

MJ: "What? What happened?" he laughed.

Pete: "I see you over there playing Jaws."

MJ: "What? We gotta lot in common." Hardly a current to take them. Hard to believe this attached to the ocean eventually.

"Race ya across."

Pete: "What does the winner get?"

MJ: "What does the loser want?"

Pete: "You tell me, all I can think about is food."

MJ: "What, lemme take a bite outta ya?"

Pete: "I meant I can't think of anything the winner or loser gets because all I can think about is food."

MJ: "Don't want a bite?"

Pete: “That would be a very intimate prize,” he said carefully.

MJ: "Can be. Could be. If you're so hungry, go back to the dock. I'll declare victory."

Pete: "And forfeit the race? Hell no."

MJ: "What's Abe doin'?" And he was off! Giving his full body towards the other side of the river. No need to breathe had its advantages.

Pete/Abel: "What--hey!" Laughing, Pete slipped beneath the surface and propelled himself forward. His lung capacity was better than it had been pre-bear but he still lost time coming up for air.

Abel sat on the deck and shook his head. "Not sportsman like."

MJ/Guildias: MJ and Peter were quicky becoming specks towards the other end of the wide river.

A new scent had been taken by the breeze. An ozonic, woody, softly musk cologne reached the docks seconds before the towering figure. Long healthy-looking hair, darker than the shadows, covered each shoulder. The man squatted next to Abel in proper form, cigarette between fingers. Arms straight on his knees.

"What the trickster do this time?" asked the stranger, voice silky, local, with a hint of German.

Abel: Abel paused with the spoon halfway to his mouth and slowly lowered it.

He scented something on the air a moment before he felt the new presence, and with no time to do anything about it, all he could do was startle.

"Noth--he's--uh, hi? Hi. We're not breaking and entering!"

Guildias: "That would require breaking and entering," he replied. "Of which you've not broken, nor entered."

Abel: "Right, yes. Hi. Again. It was MJ's idea to come here, I'm just the messenger. Or...teleporter."

Guildias: "A teleporter? He's come up in the world with friends."

He watched the two in the distance, the ever-learning and the ever-running. They seemed happy.

Abel: “Well I don’t know about that, but we are friends.”

Abel took a second to study the stranger. He smelled like MJ, so definitely a vampire. A tall one, if the length of his legs was anything to go by.

Talk about tall, dark, and handsome.

“So this is your house, huh?”

Guildias: "No. The person inside asleep is mine."

Another intake of cigarette, leaning himself an inch to Abel. "Still asleep.  No harm done."

Abel: "Yeah, Pete said he would be. So you must be Callum's boyfriend or...husssband?" He didn't want to presume.

Guildias: "I am a label, yes," he smiled politely.

Abel: "Not big on those?"

Guildias: "They mean everything and nothing."

Abel: "You're not wrong." He went back to his sherbet. The scent of the smoke reminded him of his dad, which in turn was making him more than a little nostalgic.

"I'm Abel by the way."

Guildias: "Hello, Abel." Two fingers to the chest. "Guildias."

Pete: "Nice to meet you! I'd offer you some of the mountain of junk food we got, but...you know."

Guildias: "I don't feel like cleaning a mess tonight."

Abel: "Is there anything you'd like to sniff? Which is a very weird question but there you go."

MJ/Guildias: "He's not your first, is he?"

MJ shook his head like a dog, splashing water over Peter in the process. Wiped his hand down his face.

"Fuck."

Pete/Abel: "MJ? He's the first one of you guys that I've been friends with, yeah."

Pete intended to come up to take a breath only to be immediately splashed with water.

"Hey!" he chuckled.

MJ/Guildias: "So, you're young?"

"He ain't been givin' ya trouble?" asked MJ, staring off in the direction of the docks. The new long dark figure.

Pete/Abel: "Technically I'm middle-aged, I just don't look it. Although I guess compared to someone like you I'm young."

Pete glanced back toward the docks and shook his head. "Nope, none. We're not bosom buddies or anything but we get along okay."

MJ/Guildias: "Some would consider me young." A small smile. "Young is relative."

MJ just stared for a moment. He could feel his old self, that place between distaste and envy. That man was gone, but his ghost still lingered.

"You're stronger now."

Pete/Abe;: "Yeah, I guess so. Sure you wouldn't like to sniff anything? Anything your person doesn't have in his pantry, I mean."

Another glance toward Guildias. Their relationship hadn't changed too much since Pete had returned from France, but he wasn't sure how much his being a fully bloomed werebear had to do with it.

"I am, but that's incidental. Not like I'm gonna fight him or anything."

MJ/Guildias: "I've learned long ago not to indulge. Jolly Ranchers and Bazooka gum were my sweets. Something to end this," the twirled cigarette. "Didn't pan out."

MJ arched a brow, allowed the pathetic current to pull him closer. "But ya could," he smiled.

Pete/Abel: Abel smiled at the cigarette. "At least it can't hurt you anymore. What brand are those?"

Pete just smiled and shook his head. "In theory. Only fight I've been in recently is with a raccoon."

MJ/Guildias: "Camel." A brand which he had not strayed since mortality. "Certainly disturbs my clothes, according to my person."

A raccoon? The image which conjured was of a great bear pawing at a small relentless jackass of an animal. An image which had him laughing openly at his own mind.

Pete/Abel: His expression softened. "I actually liked the smell of Camels. They're the kind my father used to smoke."

"Whatever you're imagining is probably close to exactly what happened." Pete frowned. "Little asshole stole my fish."

MJ/Guildias: Guildias looked to the man at his side, head barely moving with the effort.

The cigarette was offered.

"Oh my fuckin' god!" MJ lulled his body back to float, laughter rippling the water around him.

Pete/Abel: Abel accepted it but didn't take a drag. He just wafted the smoke and felt nostalgia slam into him like an asteroid.

"Thanks," he said after a moment, giving it back.

Only the echo of raucous laughter coming from the other side of the river could pull him back.

"Sounds like they're having a ball over there," he chuckled.

Meanwhile, Pete was grinning like a lunatic. "I almost wish I was joking."

MJ/Guildias: "MJ has that power over people." The cigarette was returned to his mouth. A long slow drag of what remained, before putting out the end on the bottom of the dock; many tiny burns scattered throughout the years.

"I wonder," MJ managed after a time, "ya know, raccoon people. Or like, snake people. Or somethin'."

Pete/Abel: Abel just grinned. "He sure does. He's a good guy."

"There are definitely snake people. Not sure if there are raccoon people but I wouldn't be surprised. I think the raccoon I fought was normal, though. A normal fish thief."

MJ: "My people." If MJ were to be anyone, other than kin to the late Miss Swiss.

"How ya know about snake people?"

Pete: "Gaetan told me about all the types of Fera he knows of. There are also shark people and gator people, which is fucking insane."

MJ: "Gator people, so like..." Give him a second to consider his words. "They're the oldest? I mean... sounds right."

Pete: "I...guess? Have gators been around longer than sharks?"

MJ: "Have bugs been around longer than sharks? Wait are bugs a thing?"

Pete: "Probablyyyy? I feel like bugs maybe came first, then sharks? Who knows, man."

MJ: "Wow. You're suddenly low on that totem pole."

Pete: "On the evolutionary scale, yeah. But I'm slightly higher than I was pre-bear."

MJ: "Slightly, like a mile behind?"

Pete: "It's not much, but it's something."

MJ: "Not much between a human and a Fera? Ya kiddin' me?"

Pete: "Again, evolution scale. You ever watch Cosmos?"

MJ: "What's that?"

Pete: "A docuseries about the universe and spacetime."

MJ: "And how's that about ya bein' a bear?"

Pete: "In the whole grand scheme of time and evolution, there's not that big a leap between Fera and humans. Fera are superior, but again, not by much when you consider the whole of existence."

MJ: "What lil I fuckin' know, didn't a god make ya?"

Pete: "I think so? Who really knows. How'd we get here?" he laughed.

MJ: "A raccoon got us here."

Pete: "Oh yeah. Thieving little asshole."

MJ: "N'ya want me to see ya? Like that?"

Pete: "Getting got by a raccoon?"

MJ: "Gettin' got by a raccoon. I'll have a talk with em."

Pete: He chuckled. "My hero. But yeah, I want to share that with you. Me being a bear, the whole full moon routine."

MJ: "How long we got 'til then?"

Pete: "A few days. Full moon is on the 9th."

MJ: "Right, right." Hadn't he asked already? He just wanted to hear Peter speak. He didn't want that swim back to Guildias and the interview he knew was coming. He belonged here as much as that snake. More, now.

"Who fuckin' won this shit?" The reason for being on the other side of the river.

Pete: "Pretty sure you did," said Pete, going back to floating. "All that having to breathe slowed me down."

MJ: "Should see what the sky looks like from the bottom of the ocean. Or Lake Michigan. Walked around Lake Michigan before I got here."

Pete: "Isn't Lake Michigan also like, freezing and windy and as choppy as the ocean?"

MJ: "Fuckin' huge." The river was a great excuse to gently bump into Peter's chest.

Pete: "Isn't it also full of wrecked ships and bodies?"

MJ: "Yep. Wish ya could see."

Pete: "I think I'd avoid the bodies if I had the ability to go down there without scuba gear."

MJ: "Didn't see one. Thought I saw ... somethin' outta Swamp Thing."

Pete: "Now that does not surprise me at all."

MJ: "N'you're in this river why?"

Pete: "There are no river monsters in it. I check every month."

MJ: "Nothin'? Not even a gator thing?"

Pete: "You start getting bigger fish and things once you get out into the sound, but the river proper only has the usual things in it."

MJ: "Man, ya really should see your old man."

Pete: "He hasn't found any river monsters either as far as I know. And believe me, he would've told me. He loves shit like that."

MJ: "Wrong old man."

Pete: "Oh. My old man is Pete Graham, Sr. The other guy is just a bear sperm donor."

MJ: "C'mon, man. I still stand by what I said."

Pete: "And I stand by what I said. I've already got a dad."

MJ: "That's only a portion of your life now. Gotta expand t'somethin' that's actually you."

Taking his own advice, he started back towards the shore.

Pete: "I guess." Although, he fully considered his life and his family something that was actually him. Being a bear hadn't changed that.

But they'd already had that discussion and he didn't want to rehash it.

He'd just swim alongside MJ.

Guildias: Guildias only rose to his feet with the first splash of droplets to his arm. Bowing his back long enough to offer his hand to Peter, all but lifting the Fera wholesale from the water.

Pete/Abel: Pete offered a smile in greeting, thanking Guildias as he helped--lifted--him out of the river. He didn't see that strength often but when he did, it always caught him off guard.

"So who won the race?" Abel asked.

"MJ did."

Guildias: "Are you a betting man?" Guildias asked Peter. "You could have won, had your opponent not been an athlete in his former life."

Pete/Abel: “I’m an athlete now,” he chuckled. “I just have to breathe.”

Abel nodded sagely. “Breathing will get you every time.”

MJ/Guildias: "I mean to say, you might have stood a chance against a one of those other clans."

MJ just laughed, arms folded over the dock, still floating at the current's mercy.

"I've seen a fat Rav."

Abel: “You have?” Abel’s face lit with interest. The whole clan thing was fascinating. “When?”

MJ: "With Simon. The step-sire...asshole."

Abel: Abel made a face. He didn't know much about MJ's step-sire, but what he did know was enough to make him dislike him.

"Ugh. What was the other Ravnos like? Could you beat him up?"

MJ: "Looked like an old Romanian biker with a gimp in his basement. Hell fuckin' no."

Abel: He threw his head back and laughed. "You could've taken him! You're squirrely!"

MJ: "The fuck ya just say to me?"

Abel: "You're squirrely! Wiley! Like the coyote, only more successful!"

Guildias: Peter was given a look from Guildias. This was your choice? The man threatening to pounce and "put the pup in his place", was it?

Pete/Abel: Pete didn't notice; he was too busy grinning and laughing at Abel and MJ.

Yes, this was absolutely his choice.

"It was a compliment!" Abel laughed, scooching out of grabbing range.

MJ/Guildias: "I'm going to kick you in and end all of this if you don't quiet down." A threat and promise which put a smile on MJ's face.

"I sure missed your broodin' face, Aloysius."

"Ah, there you are, Victoria."

Abel: Abel's brow furrowed. "Aloysius? I thought your name was Guildias."

MJ/Guildias: "First names and surnames."

"Can't you tell he's prior military?"

Abel: "All we talked about is junk food and being old."

MJ: "How can ya say that? You're practically a baby."

Abel: "Pfft, I'm older than everyone here except Guildias."

MJ/Guildias: Guildias simply smiled. "Seniority has its perks. I suppose you're not really in your thirties anymore. What was the Victorian age like?"

"I danced scandalously with your grandmother."

Abel: "Wasn't everything scandalous back then?" Abel set the ice cream aside in favor of some chips.

MJ: "Like ya wouldn't believe," scoffed MJ.

Abel: “Now nothing is scandalous. We’ve seen so many billboards for strip clubs on our road trip.”

MJ/Guildias: "Some things. Some circles. Even our circle."

MJ shook his head, splayed out over the dock to stare up at the stairs, fists to his forehead.

Guildias crouched once more, lower back leaned against the pillar.

Abel: "Not as...nitpicky though. Things that are scandalous now are actually scandalous and sometimes kinda fucked up. The Victorians wouldn't let people show ankles."

MJ/Guildias: "It was nuance. What else do ya show? Ya represent your family. No internet but way better magnifyin' glass."

"What do you recall?" Guildias watched the fledgling. Or was this now a neonate?

"Honestly?" Hands dropped to his stomach.

"Morocco. London. Matheus going by Frederick. New York."

Pete/Abel: Pete wasn't sure he liked this conversation, but that was more than likely lingering distaste for the woman that had assaulted him and thrown his best friend off a balcony.

He was as glad that MJ was okay as he was irked that she hadn't died completely.

"Who's Matheus?" Abel asked. He on the other hand, was fascinated.

MJ: "Mm - Victoria's partner. Ya hear them stories about Jack the Ripper? He was the detective on the case. Had visions of murders. Already insane before a Malkavian sunk their teeth in."

Abel: His eyes went wide. "Wait, did he know who it was?"

MJ: MJ smiled. A smile of a man with an answer. A smile that would not have been before the merge.

"History's got it wrong. All the assumptions."

Abel: "So it wasn't someone with medical training?"

MJ: Another smile. Two personalities with a love of secrets and mystery. There would be no budging.

Abel: "AH HA! I KNEW IT WAS SOME RANDO!"

MJ: "Stew in it, baby."

Abel: "I feel vindicated."

MJ: "I didn't say shit!"

Abel: "Ah, but you did!"

MJ: "Ya think I did."

Abel: "You totally did and you can't take it back now."

MJ/Guildias: "What ya think I did?"

"There's the old trickster," Guildias smiled to himself.

Abel: "You said history's got all the assumptions wrong, the most popular of which is that someone with medical knowledge killed those women. As such, people assumed it had to have been a doctor."

MJ: "Ya can think it's Lewis Carroll or a butcher. Ya won't be spot on."

Abel: “I don’t know who it was. My best guess is either some psycho or some supernatural psycho.”

MJ: "Human."

Abel: “Figures. It’s something a human psycho would do.”

MJ: "I'll let ya stew in it." Peter was given a wink.

Abel: “No stewing here!” Abel said cheerfully, going for some Goldfish. “Only vindication.”

MJ: "Tell Peter what happens to his missin' socks n'let him feel vindicated."

Pete/Abel: “Sock goblins,” Abel said to Pete.

“Sock...goblins?”

MJ: "There's more."

Pete: “More sock goblins?” Pete asked.

MJ: "More reasons!"

Pete: "What reasons do the sock goblins have?"

MJ: "Nanana. I mean more than sock goblins."

Pete: "Oh! There's more reasons socks disappear?"

MJ: "Yes! Lots of shit loves socks. It ain't you."

Pete: "Feels like it's me. So why do the goblins and other things steal socks?"

MJ: "Abe's the expert, not me."

Pete/Abel: "They don't steal--well, the goblins do," said Abel. "But sometimes there are portals and things like loose change and lost socks fall into them and disappear into the Umbra."

Pete blinked. "...Portals."

"Magic portals!"

MJ/Guildias: "Into the Umbra."

"That's too advanced for Peter," Guildias frowned.

"It ain't your call. He's a big ol' bear. Can learn what he wants."

Pete/Abel: Pete was looking at all of them with a furrowed brow. "So you're telling me...that the reason my socks disappear...is because they're stolen by goblins and sometimes fall into magic portals to the Umbra."

Abel nodded. "Yeah! Do you feel magic in your house?"

"Not really?"

"Then it's probably goblins."

MJ: MJ nodded sagely. There you have it.

"Heard about that one kid in Raleigh. Playin' hide-n-seek with his sister. Always hides in the dryer. One day they were playin', then he's just gone. Could be other shit, but what ya wanna bet he's on the other side?"

Pete: "So portals can just appear anywhere and take a whole child?!"

MJ: "Been on my mind. The kid. I think we can do somethin' about it. I wanna do somethin' about it."

Pete: "Is it possible to do something? Can people come back from the Umbra?"

MJ: "Why not? How rare is a one-way door? What ya wanna bet it ain't goblins givin' back socks."

Pete: Pete turned to Guildias. "Ever heard of someone going to the Umbra and coming back?"

Guildias: "You really want to know?"

Pete: "I'd like to have realistic expectations for finding this kid and whether or not he'd be okay when we found him."

Guildias: "Would you rather his parents bury an empty casket?"

Pete: "I'd rather his parents have him back, I just don't want to go in blind."

Guildias: "Blind is the Umbra, but not those within. The other side is more than a single realm. It's inconceivable... but penetrable. Especially to your people. So go the tales."

Pete: "So it's theoretically possible to go in, find this kid, and bring him home to his parents?"

Guildias: "I'm not going to say yes or no. It doesn't work that way."

Pete: "How does it work?"

Guildias: "Schrodinger's cat."

Pete: "Oh good," he sighed. "....Is it possible to get someone out of the Umbra from outside the Umbra?"

MJ/Guildias: "Can you pull something out water without touching it by any means?"

"What d'ya know, Abe?"

Abel: Abel answered for Pete. "Sure you can. With a fishing pole or a net or a scoop of some kind. I haven't ever looked into it, but that's where I'd lay my bets. Magical scoop. Or rather magic as a scoop."

Guildias: "'By any means'," the vampire chuckled. While normally disinterested in those outside of his circle, familiars were within the exception.

"If you're serious about your rescue operation, you should speak with Gertrude Draegan."

Pete/Abel: "Well now, there's a difference between touching the water or getting into the water and just getting wet. Nuance is key here."

Pete shook his head. "Absolutely I am not going to do that."

MJ: "I'll do it," said MJ. "I owe her a visit."

Pete: "Why does she have to be involved at all?"

MJ: "Manners. Gotta do that manners thing, babe."

Pete: "The manners thing can be done without bringing up our magical Umbra scooping venture."

Guildias: "Then the Malkavian?" Guildias suggested with two fingers.

Pete: Pete pointed at Abel. "We've got Abel, we're sorted as Callum says."

Guildias: "My knowledge is limited but not barren. If I don't assist, Callum will not be forgiving."

Pete: "You and Abel then. And Callum. Sorted."

Guildias: "Dawn, dusk, full moons and moonless nights are preferable. I'm not fireproof, and neither is that one. The sooner the better, if Schrodinger's cat has any chance."

Pete: “How long ago did the kid disappear?” Pete asked MJ.

MJ: "Two-ish days ago."

Pete/Abel: “How soon can you find a magical scoop?” he asked Abel.

“I won’t know until I get into it but I have a deep well to draw from.”

MJ/Guildias: "Let's get started, then. Humans got, what, a month before they starve? Less if he - does it matter on the other side? I've only seen people grab shit from it. Gertrude, actually."

"She operates on a different aspect, if you hadn't noticed."

Abel: "Time doesn't work the same way in the Umbra," said Abel. "It's a lot more fluid and abstract, but sooner is still definitely better."

MJ: "Mmkay." MJ got to his feet, snatched up his clothes. "Ya said Cal, both of ya. We addin' him?"

Pete: “Maybe?” said Pete. “He might know about some magic that could help. Or his cousin might.”

Guildias: "A party of five. How could this go wrong?" Guildias smirked.

Abel: Abel gestured with his spoon. “Positive thoughts, my guy.”

Guildias: "We'll best be a party of four; Callum's schedule is otherwise occupied."

Pete: “He’ll be upset if we don’t at least tell him about it. And I really think he might know something that could help,” Pete added.

Guildias: "Yes, but not to bring."

Pete/Abel: "All right, fair enough." That was really Callum's call but he'd let it be for now. They didn't even have anywhere to bring anyone yet.

Abel took another bite of ice cream and put the carton away. "We should get back. Scooby Dooby Do, we've got some work to do now."

MJ/Guildias: "That is perhaps the most untactful declaration of rescue I've ever heard."

MJ simply smiled. "I mean, he's a dog. That's like his thing."

Abel: “Hey! My declaration of rescue will be very tactful! This is my declaration of research.”

MJ/Guildias: "On that eccentric note, I will return. I know where to find you."

The tall Setite was saluted. A wink for good measure.

"Tomorrow night," MJ called to the back of Guildias' raised hand.

Abel: "It was nice to meet you!" Abel called after him, and interestingly enough, he meant it.

Once the three of them were alone again he said, "He seems nice for a vampire."

MJ: MJ looked over to Peter, raised a brow. "What ya think of that statement?"

Pete: Pete shrugged. "He has his moments."

MJ: "We'll leave it there." Time to hop on his feet while lacing his shoes.

Abel: "I sense a story there but we'll leave that for another time." He paused for a beat. "Should we call X?"

MJ: "This gonna be a whole coterie thing, or just us? Already got that back there with us."

Abel: "Maybe not a whole coterie thing, but can you think of any other person who might know how to scoop someone out of the Umbra?"

MJ: "Peter done said no. Simon, maybe. More than maybe. The maybe is me. What ya wanna bet Cal knows some witches?"

Pete/Abel: "Peter is still firm on the demon front," Pete chimed in. "And yeah, I think Cal does."

Abel nodded. "All right, no X. Oh! What about Ramsay? He knows all kinds of shit."

MJ: "No X, no Cal, no Gertrude, no Matheus - your makin' that list short."

Pete: "Hey, Guildias said no Cal, not me. I think it's Cal's call but that's just me."

MJ: "I mean, if I told ya no I hope ya listen."

Pete: "It's been suggested that I'm dangerously reckless and stubborn."

MJ: "One of the worst. Cal takes the cake."

Pete: "He's Scottish, it's congenital."

MJ: "I mean, that's like sayin' I get a pass flirtin' for bein' Spanish."

Abel: "Are the Spanish known for flirting?" asked Abel.

MJ: "You're older than me. And lived a piss stream away."

Abel: "Bergen is more than a piss stream away from Spain."

MJ: "Closer than America." And this is how conversation went between the two of them. All across America and it was this. Some subject with bickering. Some subject with many tangents. It was a wonder they knew so much of each other.

Pete/Abel: Pete just couldn't help but smile at the pair of them and their banter. He imagined this is how people felt listening to him and Callum, witnessing that bond and seeing all the little signs that pointed at the hard as diamonds foundation of trust.

"Everything is close together if you measure by the America ruler," Abel said with a snort. "This country is ginormous."

MJ: "Ginormous and likes to keep everyone at umbrella length." He demonstrated with the item of mention, long and orange and just suddenly in his hand.

Pete/Abel: Abel laughed. "It's the American way!"

Pete didn't quite startle, but he did give a bit of a start. "Never gonna be used to how quickly you can magic things out of thin air."

MJ: "This ain't nothin'. Not anymore. Watch this shit," he commanded, promptly smacking Abel in the ass with the umbrella before it disappeared.

Pete/Abel: Pete laughed as Abel cried out a rather undignified "Ahhh!"

"You really are getting good. Of course, you were good before." He still remembered that snake on the bar in vivid detail.

MJ: "Only gets better. Don't ya have magic of your own?"

Pete: “It’s very nature oriented and I don’t have a lot of it, but yeah. I can suddenly keep plants alive without Cal.”

MJ: "Ain't he jealous," the Ravnos grinned.

Pete: "The opposite actually," Pete chuckled. "I am now trusted with the real versions of my nice fake plants. The cat safe ones anyway."

MJ: "No more glass roses, huh?"

Pete: "Those live on my bedside table."

MJ: "Still?"

Pete: Pete smiled and nodded. "Still. Was thinking about making a little box or something for them. Midas does this thing where he knocks shit over when he wants attention and I don't want him to get my roses."

MJ: He had missed that smile. "Could talk to him, if ya want."

Pete: "That's riiiiiight, I forgot you could do that! Would you? I really don't want him to break them."

MJ: "I ain't gonna bark orders." Although he could. "We'll negotiate."

Pete: "He can be bribed with salmon and chicken."

MJ: "What's his opinion of dogs?"

Pete: "Depends on the dog. He likes the really big fluffy ones that just kinda lay around because then he can sleep on them. Smaller dogs are judged on a case by case basis."

MJ: "We headin' back? I got an idea. All mafioso."

Pete: "Yeah, sure. Is the mafioso idea for convincing Midas not to break my sentimental things or for rescuing the kid from the Umbra?"

MJ: "Cat first, kid tomorrow night."

Pete/Abel: "Does it involve Abel?"

"Yeah, does it involve me?" Abel asked. "I wanna make a good impression on Midas."

MJ: "You'll see." One more vigorous shake of his head, fingers combed through the wet mess of black.

Abel: "We need to towel off your hair." Abel gathered up all their snacks. "Ready to go, boys?"

MJ: "Ain't gonna catch a cold." So often did he forget Abel's age until he said something like that. Then it was just glaring.

"Yep."

Abel: "No but you might get frost in your hair. Are we going to the RV or to Pete's house?"

MJ: "Pete's." He looked to the sky, though. "When ya usually go t'bed?"

Pete/Abel: "Varies," said Pete. "You know me, I'm on the pub owner sleep schedule. We're all good."

"Good!" Abel adjusted the bags on one arm and held out a hand to each of them. "Now Pete, I need you to visualize your house so I can take us there."

MJ: "It's March, man. We can walk." But still he took that hand, if only to straighten himself.

Pete/Abel: "This is faster! Why walk when you can teleport?"

"Hard to argue with that," said Pete, taking Abel's hand and forming as clear an image of his house as he could in his mind.

And off they went through time and space.

[deathvalleyqueen]

OC Mannerisms (part 2)

because...well now I have more OCs... and @nightwingshero​ has specifically requested the boys... Here we go...

Mary Jane’s are here BTW

Michael “Mac” MacKenna -

How they smile

Mac doesn’t smile often, it has to be something either that makes him genuinely happy (which is rare) or something that is actually highly amusing to him. But on said rare and mythical occasion that Mac smiles it’s a very broad and infectious smile, sometimes accompanied by a laugh or snarky chuckle. He has kind of a crooked smirk that he does as well when he finds something slightly amusing but it doesn’t warrant an actual full on smile. 

What their “tell” is for lying

The MacKenna family moto should be “We lie often and well” , Mac has no real obvious tell for lying because at any given time he is trying to maintain at least three to four different lies all at once...even with his own family. The only time there is anything remotely close to a tell when he does lie is when he is found out or someone is close to the truth he is trying to hide (usually Mary Jane) he will shift his weight and look away, almost like a young child would, and quickly try to change the subject which only rarely actually works. 

Posture

For the most part he appears to be mostly a relaxed type of guy in spite of his stint in the military. Very confident and sure of the fact that he could physically take just about anyone if he had to so he worries very little about trying to prove what a big man he is. He is a big guy, standing just over six foot and a pretty fit guy, he is an imposing figure and knows it. There is a certain amount of arrogance in the way he carries himself, shoulders back, head high. Little makes him afraid. When he sits, he man spreads a bit, usually draping his arm over the back of couch and taking a good amount of space because he really only lets few people close to him. 

Volume of speech, if they’re verbal

Mac is not a loud guy as a rule, actually fairly soft spoken... though he swears just about every other word out of his mouth. His tone is tone is usually pretty even in conversation, if you start to even hear that change you need to just run and hide. If he yells, it is a startling thing to witness because if he has to raise his voice that loud, it’s a serious situation. Overall Mac is not a huge talker, one of the few people who can get anything out of him is Mary Jane because she will just poke at him till he finally tells her what she wants to know. 

Nervous tics

Cracks his knuckles... this is habit he has had since childhood. It drove his mother up a wall and he started doing it more to purposefully annoy her but it became something that became second nature. He is starting to have problems with his hands as he is getting older because of this and had tried to stop himself but it’s something he can’t seem to shake. He is also a bit of a chain smoker, particularly if he is stressed out and he often uses going out for a smoke as a way to avoid a situation that he wants to avoid. 

How much eye contact do they make

Not as much as you would think, he tends to watch the room. Even when he talking to someone. It’s only when is speaking on something he considers important that he will look someone in the eye. He finds it very difficult to look people in the eye as it feels like they will see all his secrets so he avoids it when he can. 

In a group conversation, how close do they stand to others? Are they off to the side just listening and occasionally speaking or are they right next to people?

Mac is always the one off watching the group and rarely adding things to the conversation unless someone specifically addresses him by name. He likes to be more of the watch, assess the situation and listen person because eventually in most of the situation he finds himself in these type of group conversations, Mary Jane will come to him after and ask his opinion on what he saw. He watches body langue and listens to peoples tones to be able to get a good read on them and their intentions. 

When standing, what do they do with their hands? Talk with their hands, cross their arms, put hands in pockets, prop up against the wall, etc

Almost always stands with is his arms crossed in front of him in a defensive stance. Though he will lean on the wall on occasion if he is having a causal conversation with one of his siblings. He tries to appear very much a “presence” when standing, because a lot of of the time he will be standing behind MJ at events, almost like her body guard so he wants really put on the “don’t mess with” me vibe. 

The sound of their footsteps

Mac is a big dude, who usually is wearing combat boots or work boots so he isn’t what you call “light on his feet” you can you usually hear him coming, which is usually his aim. He is not the sneak up on you and get you type of guy, Mac wants you to know he is coming and he wants you to be afraid. 

Nonverbal greetings: do they wave, nod, hug, glare, punch, high five, something else?

Mac is a head nod guy, like he isn’t the type to shout across the room to greet anyone, even his siblings. For the people he is closest with occasionally he will hug them, mostly MJ, but he does the “bro shoulder clasp” with Sean, John and Bobby. If he doesn’t like you there is a strong chance, he will greet you a with a fist to the face, ask Colin in the later part of the story... 

How do they get others’ attention? Raise hand, clear throat, etc

A single look, it’s not something that even needs a sound, but the Mac stare is legendary and known and you do not ignore that icy glare from those baby blues. Nope, you pay attention to what probably 4 words are going to come out of Mac’s mouth.

How they smile

Sean is a cheeky little shit, good natured, but cheeky little shit nonetheless. So his smile is mischievous, bright but sincere. He is actually a really nice guy, wants to help people and such so his smile appears often and is always warm and welcoming. It’s a very disarming smile as well, kind of like MJ, you wouldn’t expect a guy with as much inner turmoil to have such a cheerful, almost jokester personality... but he does. 

What their “tell” is for lying

Sean is the lone member of the MacKenna’s who is horrible at lying. He just can’t keep a straight face and acts like a child caught by their mother trying to piece together something that could be a lie. Sean was originally pre-Law, this is how he met John, but quickly realized he could never be a good lawyer because he can’t lie to save his life. As Sean says he leaves the spinning of twisted webs to John and Mary Jane, he just handles the money. 

Posture

Sean is a very loose guy, he is never rigid in his posture unless he is worried or getting ready to fight. Most of the time he is the most laid back of the brothers, save Bobby, he tends to slouch a bit too. Something he honestly picked up as a kid when he brothers would big on him for being a skinny little bean pole of a kid, it really messed with his confidence so he began slouching. When he sits he tends to sit in the corner of the couch, leaning against the arm, trying to get the best view of what’s going on in the room. 

Volume of speech, if they’re verbal

Sean is a pretty loud guy when he wants to be, not like his sister, but he knows how to make his opinion heard. In general conversation, he always has this air of sarcasm with everything he says, to the point most people who just meet him think nothing he says is serious at all. Though this often backfires on him when he is trying to be serious. 

Nervous tics

He grids his teeth and locks his jaw, mostly because Sean is only ever truly nervous when he is about to fight. If he is worried, he tends to just be more attentive to whatever situation is causing him concern. Like when he was worried about John and MJ being able to handle having an infant, he pretty much lived with them for a month so he could help out and keep an eye on things. Sean tries so hard to hide his true emotions.  

How much eye contact do they make

Sean makes a good deal of eye contact, he knows in importance of making it appear as if you are an honest and genuine person in business dealings so he has perfected the are of causal not creepy eye contact. He likes to look people in the eyes when he speaking with them as he feels it’s the only way he can get a good read on if they are lying or not. If he is uncomfortable in a situation his eyes will tend to dart around the room during conversation but if he is comfortable he will make full eye contact. 

In a group conversation, how close do they stand to others? Are they off to the side just listening and occasionally speaking or are they right next to people?

Sean is almost always in the middle of the conversation, he is a charming and funny guy that can get along with most people on surface. So he always interjects himself into the center of the conversation in a group setting. Often trying to carry the conversation for those who may be uncomfortable in such a setting. He isn’t not the type of guy to talk your ear off for no reason, he will add what he feels is relevant to what is being discussed and the occasional joke but he will not try and dominate the conversation. 

When standing, what do they do with their hands? Talk with their hands, cross their arms, put hands in pockets, prop up against the wall, etc

Sean tends to stand with his hands in his pockets, playing with change in his pockets or his keys. He is usually standing near whom ever he is talking to occasionally leaning against the door frame or wall just being his chill causal self. 

The sound of their footsteps

Sean is not a guy who is naturally light on his feet, he can be if he wants to be but not without conscious effort. For the most part his footsteps are quick, he is always the one who moves quickly, but not like a cat. Think excited dog with the energy in in the way he moves. He isn’t graceful, nor is he clumsy... honestly... Sean is pretty average.  

Nonverbal greetings: do they wave, nod, hug, glare, punch, high five, something else?

A cheesy grin is almost always his go to greeting with friends and family. He is a pretty friendly guy. With MJ a lot of the time it’s a hug. With his brother’s he could playfully hit them like they did when they would roughhouse when they kids. With John it’s just... the guy nod... you know what I am talking about. The silent greeting guy friends give each other. 

How do they get others’ attention? Raise hand, clear throat, etc

Like MJ, he hates to be ignored, so he will clap his hands, clear his throat honestly even get up in people’s faces if he has to if he really thinks someone isn’t listening to him. It’s one of the few times he will willingly come off more aggressive than he does naturally because dude does not like to be ignored. At all. 

[spookilyfingergunsoutofexistence]

I’m feline fine (Sanders sides)

Sanders sides spiderverse au fic based on @sugarglider9603’s au. Hope you enjoy!

Tw: kind of sensory overload, fear of a loved one getting hurt.

It’s a thing??? Not much plot just an idea that became a lead up to a fight.

____________________

"Alright. Last thing! Remember that grammatical mistakes do not make someone a villain and you cannot punch them for it." All eyes trail to Logan, "And! If a villain is already down and they make a grammatical mistake it is not okay to punch the correct usage out of them." All eyes stare at Logan, "And finally! For god sakes Logan. If someone insults Patton you cannot punch them! You have super strength. That hurts!" Thomas finishes off his speech, all eyes staring at Logan.

"It was one time!"

Swiftly ignoring Logan's outburst, Virgil raises his hand, "What if the bad guy insults Patton?"

"Then by all means. Punch them in the face. Now are you ready kids?" Thomas grins, "Aye aye captain!" Patton cheers, a bright smile taking over his face after spending quite some time frowning and concerned for his friends and their seemingly violent natures. "I can't hear yooou-"

"We're not doing this." Virgil hastily interrupted. "You're no fuuuuuuuuun!" Thomas groaned before finally pulling down his mask. "Aw Virgil! You ruined dad's fun!" Roman complained, poking his side. Virgil yelped and jumped back sticking to the wall not as gracefully as he would have hoped. Logan stifled a laugh at his best friends antics whilst Patton giggled softly. Thomas fondly rolled his eyes, an action hidden by his rainbow weaver mask before climbing out of his attics window and onto the roof, "Alright! Patrolling time."

Soon all the kids had popped up wearing their costumes, "Can you say that again but in your story time voice?" Roman pleaded and god- Thomas was so weak for these kids. They were like his family and he knew behind that mask Roman was doing his best attempt at puppy dog eyes. He always caved for his kiddos. "Alright buddy, Patro—"

"Patrolling time!" Roman exclaimed dramatically, his body posed as such to create a movie like effect. His hands on his hips and his anime-like scarf blowing gently in the autumn wind. "Ok, elasti-hurl. We get it. Now can we go?" Roman gasped in mock offence and turned a suit covered finger towards Virgil, "That's my thing! Tho- Rainbow Weaver! Tell him! That's my thing!" Roman stomped his foot down, Virgil was certain he would be pouting if that mask wasn't covering his annoyingly perfect face. "Ok. So I have a plan. We're going to split up to patrol different parts of the city. I would go alone. Roman would be with Virgil and Logan would be with Patton. Sound good?" Virgil scoffed, "Yeah like that's not how every horror movie starts." He continues in a mocking voice, "Let's split up to find the dangerous people!" He raised an eyebrow at Thomas, daring him to say Virgil was wrong. Logan snickered in the background, purely here for the show- plus working with Patton all evening sounded satisfactory. "What's the worst that could happen? ("Oh he's done it now.") I mean really. You're all trained. You'll be fine."

"That's awfully ominous of you. Really setting us up for some bad karma here Thomas." Virgil was not backing down apparently. Sure, this was technically their first ever patrol without Thomas by their sides but really, what could go wrong? Eventually after a little (a lot of) coaxing from Thomas, they all set off to patrol. All going different directions. Thomas loved the spider-kids, don't get him wrong, but sometimes it was nice to have a bit of peace and quiet. Readying up his web slinger he walked to the back of his roof before running across the tiles, feeling the air whipping against his face as he leapt off of the roof to go do what he loves. The web latched on to a tall building and his arm grabbed the strong matter. He swung with ease towards an unknown location. Just him and the city he loved. Each swing increased in momentum. Each leap, grab and roll left a searing pain in his muscles that was both burning and yet exhilarating. A feeling he had felt so much through the years and had grown to love. Screw working out when the entire work was your jungle gym. He perched atop stark tower with a massive grin, the view never got old. The experience never got old. It filled him with a thrill he never before knew he was craving. His line of work was dangerous but it was also an escape from reality. It was freedom and power. It was like flying, or walking on the clouds- the stuff of dreams. He gently pulled up his mask and let his senses flood him. His eyes slowly shut and by doing so his mind opened. He could hear every noise in the city. Children's laughter, the clinking of glasses, the beeping of cars, the whirring of expresso machines late into the evening rush. Soon his mind was absorbed with MJ. The beautiful ginger locks flowing gently across snowy white skin. The assortment of freckles dotted far and wide- showstopping sprinkles scattered on top of the perfect cupcake. Each unique and beautiful like snowflakes. Geez, Thomas was hopelessly gay for that man. His boyfriend. His boyfriend! He could here the coffee pouring, trickling like a river stream. A soothing melody that only Thomas could really hear. Flowing and flowing until it stopped. Abruptly.

And Thomas opened his eyes, only for a second but his black and white world was in technicolour now. Bright lights blaring and that one thought in his head screaming. Something is wrong. Something is very very wrong. Suddenly, the swings weren't as graceful, the city wasn't as beautiful and the world was too bright. Too loud. His aching muscles couldn't get him to MJ fast enough and he needed to check. He needed to see that his world was fine.

It wasn't long until he was swinging to a lamppost, perched on the top watching over the coffee shop with hawk like eyes. He scanned every inch of that shop for abnormalities. Watched each customer, each member of staff. Thomas locked eyes with MJ from across the street. An unreadable expression crossing his face. Thomas knows he hadn't revealed his identity to MJ so he just didn't understand the look at all. He'd never seen MJ with such an expression. Was it shock? Fear maybe? Thomas didn't know until the door to the shop opened. Thomas could hear the familiar chime. He could hear the sharp intake of breath from MJ and the realisation hit him like a flood. That look was a plea. 'Danger' it screamed. A word Thomas was all too acquainted with. MJ was in danger. That person entering the shop was dangerous.

Now of course there was no proof of this at all. This person seemed harmless. The hood covering their face was quite strange but it was raining outside so it made sense in a way. He had no proof. No proof but MJ's intuition. Thomas trusted MJ. He was incredibly smart and had a sort of sixth sense about these things. He also always managed to get himself into tricky situations. His bombshell barista. Thomas (Or Rainbow Weaver) hopped down from the lamppost and walked into the coffee shop as casually as he could in his costume. MJ was serving the hooded customer with his normal fiery eyes and bold smile but below the protective shell Thomas could see the shaking, he could hear the slightly higher frequency. This person was definitely the thing MJ feared. Thomas stood behind them in the queue and waited. Eventually, the person slowly turned. He had the face of a man Thomas was well acquainted with. A man Thomas greeted every day in the mirror. It was himself. Of course Thomas knew this was a fake but how did MJ know? Just from a glance how could MJ tell? He stepped toward the front and whispered, "Are you ok, sir?" to MJ.

"Easy tiger. I'm feline fine, thanks babe."

Did MJ flirt with everyone?

"I can see those cogs whirring behind the mask hun. That's not you over there. He's a fantastic copy- really must of studied your mannerisms from your videos.”

“H-How did you..?”

“Same height, same size, same smell.” MJ listed off with a grin, “Plus I’ve watched the interviews. You talk to me like no one else. You talk to me like Thomas does.” MJ gives a toothy grin and pops a chocolate chip in his mouth, “Now go get that imposter, tiger.”

Thomas grins, turning to go take down Thomas Slanders but first he takes a long look at MJ.

“I love you.” Thomas whispers, smiling warmly.

“I love you too.. Rainbow Weaver.”

[the-stark-bunch]

Rivals Finally /

Crush Part 1

Riri looked up from her workstation in the lab to the clock on the wall. It was already almost 2:00 a.m. and she knew Tony would throw a fit if they stayed up any later.

Peter was hard at work on new web shooters that would allow him to use less of his natural web fluid. Gifts from Wade Howlett and Harry Osborn were dotted around his portion of the lab, all chocolates and chimichanga bouquets eaten. Riri and Harley were actually the ones who ate most of the stuff, seeing as Riri was a sucker for fried food and Harley loved the expensive, fancy chocolates that Harry imported from various countries.

Harley was half asleep, hunched over his latest design of the Iron Lad suit. He was wearing a shirt Ned designed for him as a birthday present the year before that read “Not Iron Lad”. It was a personal joke among the OG friend group (which consisted of Peter, Harley, Ned, Shuri, Riri and Yukio), poking fun at Harley hating the name Iron Lad. His section of the lab was clean for the most part besides a few crushed cans of double shot Starbucks, an oil rag and a picture of his deceased mother and sister.

The last few days, Harley has gotten quieter than usual. He typically only opened his mouth to make smart remarks and work the room if needed, but these days all he seemed to bother talking for was debate team at school. He was starting to seem annoyed by the whole rivalry between Wade and Harry, but always shrugged it off when anyone asked why he was no longer interested. Peter had figured out about the small war of affection, and he found it flattering, but just like Riri he was much more worried about Harley.

“Pete, Harls,” Riri called to get her surrogate brothers’ attention. “We should head off to bed, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed, shutting his area down.

When Harley didn’t move, Riri tried again, “Harley, come on. It’s late. Don’t you want to sleep in your bed?”

“Huh?” He finally heard her and looked up. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right.”

The older sister helped Harley up while Peter shut the rest of the lab down for them. Together, they made their way upstairs to the family residential floor of Stark Tower. Tony didn’t usually sleep on this floor unless one of the kids’ therapists suggested their mental state was declining, so it was no surprise that the master bedroom was empty.

“Want to have a sleepover tonight?” Riri asked once they got to the end of the hall.

“In Dad’s room?” Peter raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not like he’s using it right now,” she shrugged.

The three broke off to their own rooms to shower and change into pajamas. After grabbing a few things, they met back up in the now lit master bedroom and set up their pillow and blanket fort.

They all laid together cuddling, their positions subconsciously tactical in case of a late night attack. Being the youngest and weakest of the three, Harley was positioned in between his two siblings. Peter was the second oldest and physically strongest, so he was by the window, and Riri being the oldest was closest to the door to put herself between the most likely case of danger and her brothers.

“Are either of you awake?” Riri asked thirty minutes into trying to fall asleep. Both boys made small noises of acknowledgement, Peter turning to looked at her over Harley’s head.

“Howlett And Osborn seems to be calming down a bit lately,” she said.

Peter nodded, “I think they are running out of ideas.”

“Have you decided which one you like more?”

“It was never a competition.”

“I’m guessing that means you aren’t going to tell?”

Peter laughed at his sister, “No, I don’t plan on it. Not yet. Do you have a crush on anyone?”

“Pete, I’m eighteen,” she rolled her eyes. “I don’t get crushes. But... I think there is someone I like.”

“Who?”

“I’m not telling you,” Riri hit him with a pillow. “A secret for a secret.”

“You’re both so weird,” Harley laughed under his breath, not opening his eyes.

“Oh is that so?” Riri met eyes with Peter, then propped herself on her elbow. “And do tell, little brother, do you have a crush on anyone?”

Harley’s cheeks turned crimson. Without a word, he pulled the silk sheets over his head. That was answer enough.

“My baby brother has a crush,” Peter gasped.

“I’m not a baby, I’m two years younger than you!” Harley’s voice came muffled from under the sheets.

“Our little cynic is all grown up,” Riri faked to fan tears from her eyes.

“Who is it?” The older brother demanded, pulling the sheets down so they could see Harley again.

“No.”

“Harls, you have to tell us,” Riri begged.

“I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“Yes you do,” Peter said. “We are your older siblings. As baby brother, your secrets are our business.”

“That’s so unfair!” Harley said, glaring up at them.

A grin broke out across both the siblings’ faces, and Harley didn’t have time to react before they descended upon him with tickles.

“Stop!” Harley cries through fits of giggles and laughter. “Dad is going to- hear us- and get mad-“

“If you tell us who your crush is, we will stop,” Riri said singsong.

“Never!”

“Fine, just know you have dug your own grave,” Peter smirked, pinning his brother’s arms so that he couldn’t push them away.

After a little more struggling, Harley finally said, “It doesn’t matter who it is, he will never like me back!”

Peter and Riri stopped at that and frowned at each other.

“Harls, you can’t say that,” Peter said carefully. “He could love you back right now and you just don’t know it.”

“Even if he doesn’t like you, that doesn’t mean he never will,” Riri finished.

“I’m plain to him,” Harley looked away, trying to hide his red face. “I’m just some kid from the south with a heart disease. He doesn’t like me, I know he doesn’t. He never will. There’s no adventure in being with me, and that’s what he wants. That’s what he likes.”

The other two knew there was nothing they could say to make this better. Harley hasn’t had problems with his heart since the transplant, but they always knew there was a cliff hanging off ever breath. He was a cynic due to experience, and nothing could sway him once he made up his mind on a matter.

Both of them laid back down, cuddling their little brother close. It was right before she drifted of, that Riri connected the dots.

Harley being so quiet, having a crush on a boy who liked adventure and clearly didn’t have a crush on him back. It was all so obvious, she should have noticed sooner.

The last thing she saw was Peter’s sleepy, lidded eyes looking back at her, having made the same connection.

~~~

Riri and Peter called an emergency friend meeting the next day when Harley went to physical therapy with their uncle Rhodey. Not everyone was there, but the people who needed to be were. Yukio, Ned, Betty and Liz day on one side of the long conference table. On the other side was Eddie, Flash, Gwen, MJ and Shuri. At the head were the two siblings, of course, waiting for Wade and Harry to officially begin business.

Harry got there at 9:00 a.m. sharp, the exact time the meeting was supposed to start. Wade got there fifteen minutes late. Both sat at the other end of the table from Riri and Peter.

“I’m sure you are all very confused about why I called an emergency meeting while Harley is unable to attend,” Riri said, standing. “I will explain it all in a bit. For now, please listen to Peter present our dilemma. Peter, the floor is yours.”

Peter nodded and stood as she sat. “As you all have seen, and made bets upon, Wade and Harry both are pinning after me. Harley was the first to notice the growing dispute, and the first to get fully engaged in the outcome. The last few weeks though, he has been avoiding the situation. Can anyone tell me why?”

“He doesn’t want to see you getting hurt over having to chose the results,” Betty offered.

“He lost interest,” Liz suggested.

“Both of those are possibilities,” Peter agreed. “But it’s more complicated than that.”

“Is he sick?” Flash asked in a slight panic. “Did he get hurt?”

“No, no,” Riri tried to call their friend. “If he was sick, we would have told you all right away.

“Riri and I think we figured it out last night,” Peter continued. He looked far across the table to the boys who had been fighting for his heart. Harry looked extremely worried for his friend, while Wade looked about ready to run out of the room to hunt Harley down. He couldn’t help the twitch of a smile at his lips from their concern for his brother.

Riri took Peter’s hand to get his attention, guiding him to sit back down.

“Boys,” she carefully looked up at the conflicting love interests. “You both love Harley, correct?”

“Of course,” Harry said.

“Who couldn’t?” Wade added. “He’s so sassy, and small. I get overprotective around him all the time.”

“And you love me?” Peter asked.

“Yes,” both said.

“Well, then you need to keep open minds, and kind hearts, as to what I’m about to say,” Riri said, looking between them.

When she was sure both of them were listening, she took a deep breath, and prayed she was right.

“You both love Peter,” she restated, “but Harry, I don’t think you are in love with Peter.”

“What do you mean?” Harry looked taken aback.

“Harry, your brain tricked your heart into loving Peter, but I’m reality, you love someone else,” she said with great pity. Everyone was looking at Harry now. They had figured it out too.

“You’ve been projecting your feeling for that person onto me, because you know the risk of loving them,” Peter said.

“I still don’t understand,” Harry shook his head. Even Wade was now looking at him with a pitiful understanding.

“Harry,” Riri walked over to him, taking his hands in hers as she crouched in front of him. “You are in love with Harley.”

It took him a few moments. Many emotions crossed his face in those moments. Confusion, realization, terror, regret, fear and understanding.

He settled on saying the most graceful thing he could muster at the time.

“Oh shit.”

[veryxobservant-archive-blog]

Masks fall

So this is not easy for me. I have only recently gone back to writing fanfiction and fiction in general (yes, original fiction). And I posted this on A03 originally.

So a little Spider-Man fanfiction, bit fluffy.

________________________________

The pages felt soft under her fingers, familiar and comforting. Michelle Jones had found comfort in books for years now. Life had dealt her a hard card, but she was coping. She had found ways. Usually one of them was to hole up somewhere with a book on her lap, ready to escape this world for a better one, because this world was not as ideal as others. Heroes in books had it a chance of being heroes. For her, it was an uphill battle, one she wasn’t sure she could win. And yet she tried. But for tonight it was Michelle and her book and the quiet roof of the apartment complex she lived in. It was, in many ways her place. She had a blanket, some snacks, water and pillows stored in a box up there, for evenings like that. It was still relatively warm, so she did not need the blanket yet. But she was also not going back down anytime soon.

There was a sound out of place. It sounded like someone screamed “Oops.” But this high up, this was unlikely. And with her view of the door down, there was no way anyone could just come up and surprise her. She might be in another world, but she was still aware of her surroundings. A flash of movement caught her eyes before she saw someone fall face first onto the roof. Michelle jumped in surprise. It was not every day that someone fell onto the roof you were hiding on.

And not just someone it seemed. As Michelle squinted her eyes in suspicion, she noticed the familiar red and blue of a certain arachnid-named vigilante with a so-called secret identity. Not that she bought it. There were just too many coincidences with that one.

“Graceful, Spider-Man. Ten out of ten. I have to say, I have never seen a spider fall that soundly onto their face!” Michelle smirked a little at that as Spider-Man looked up, at the same time athletically pushing up into a stand. That was certainly something MJ could not do. A small chuckle escaped her as she saw the mask of the vigilante: One eye seemed normal, the other seemed widened in fear almost. “Your eyes are crooked. I guess you damaged yourself.”

“Sorry.” Spider-Man poked himself in the eye quite hard, probably trying to rectify the situation of the giant eye.

“Having a spider black eye?” Michelle followed. It did seem like he had gotten one too many knocks on it.

“More like a spider concussion”, Spider-Man answered. He seemed a little restless, anxious even. It didn’t take a genius to have an idea why. Or well it took someone having an inkling on who was hiding behind the mask. The fact that he did not seem to use anything to alter his voice, did not help the matter. “What are you doing up on the roof at this late time?”

Michelle took a moment to consider her reply. She pulled her legs close to her chest, after placing the book carefully on her box. With a few well-trained movements she had her yellow robe carefully tucked around her legs to protect them from the cold breeze. “I’m looking at the stars”, she replied. Spider-Man looked up immediately, causing the teenager to chuckle again. However, when he looked down again, his eye seemed to go crazy, as if it was unable to focus on her. The other still seemed fine. It made him look slightly crazy.

“We’re in New York, there is light pollution, so you can’t see the stars”, the young vigilante pointed out.

“I was messing with you.”

“Bold.”

“Says the guy in a red and blue onesie, who face-planted onto my roof and got a case of crazy eye right now.”

His reply came instantly: “Hey! It’s not a onesie!”

“Is it one piece of clothing?”, MJ asked. Spider-Man nodded, he almost looked sheepily at that. “Then it’s a onesie.”

“It is a high-tech suit!”

“High-tech onesie!” Michelle countered. Now it was on him to chuckle lightly. So apparently he did like this exchange as well. So it didn’t ruin either of their evenings. That was good. In a way, it was even a highlight for her. Her evening had not been too good. That was why she had come up here to hide away from what was down in the apartment. For a moment there was silence. He had no comeback it seemed and that was interesting. But the tone seemed to shift suddenly - despite the rather weird way his eye still went crazy. He had been shifting his weight from one leg to the other - a typical Peter thing - now he placed himself firmly on the ground like he did when he got serious. He also seemed to stand up a little taller. His body language remained open, curious and worried.

“Why are you really up here?” It was as if he knew her thoughts at that moment, but Michelle knew that that was impossible. As the mood had shifted between them, so had her thoughts. He did look worried and she hated that. Michelle didn’t want people to be worried about her, because she feared being hurt again. She knew it was a weird logic, but sometimes logic just did not apply to humans. In many ways, it didn’t apply to her life. She lived in New York. There were superheroes and aliens in New York, New York defied logic often. And so she considered telling him the truth. She considered telling him that she was hiding up here sometimes. She considered telling him that she was hiding from her stepfather. But she didn’t want to, because he was someone who helped people. He was the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. He helped the little people, too. She didn’t need Spider-Man. She could handle this alone.

However, the breeze seemed to make the decision for her. It caught her thin robe and lifted it away from her leg. Once noticed MJ scrambled to pull it back over her legs, but she could see by the way he stiffened. Suddenly there was tension in his body, the skintight suit showed that of rather nicely. She had an idea why.

“MJ, what happened to your leg?”, he asked. Michelle immediately noticed he had called her by her name, by how she told him he could call her as her friend. It showed that this was a genuine reaction. It wasn’t acted, thought through and mentally checked for the consequences. This was Peters genuine reaction to seeing bruises on her legs. It felt horrible to Michelle. It felt like someone drove a small knife into her throat as she realized what it meant. He had seen the evidence of how hard life could be at her home, that she could be vulnerable. It was something she wanted to hide. But she knew there was a way to deflect.

“MJ? I mean….you could have just announced yourself as Peter…” He flinched a little at that. The way his shoulders moved made it clear, that he was confused, probably at how she knew he was Peter. He reached for his - still malfunctioning - mask and pulled it off.

“How did you know?” He asked, his face a mixture of panic, pain, and confusion. A colorful array of bruises adorned his face.

“I’m very observant,” Michelle said, hoping it had successfully distracted him from her bruises. But his look went back to her legs and now she could truly see the worry in his eyes. But it was not directed at Michelle knowing his secret, it was because of her leg. At that moment only one thought crossed her mind, a lie.

“Lifting in dancing. Some of the guys are very clumsy.” He nodded, but the worry remained. Without being invited he just flopped down next to her, without a single ounce of grace, as if Spider-Man was turned off entirely and this was purely Peter, her friend from school in a ridiculous costume. “What happened to you?” She asked in return.

“A robbery. There were people so I had to take a few punches to… make sure nobody gets hurt, except for me. I heal fast.” MJ knew as much already. She had seen faint bruises on him before, but they disappeared fast. She had already had the thought that he healed fast due to that secret. Now she had confirmation in a way. “Will you tell anyone?”

“Your secret?” She asked. She shook her head. “Of course not. You’re the one superhero who takes care of the little people. I’ll never tell anyone.” The superhero reached for her box and pulled out one of her books. Without another word he started to read, settling into a comfortable silence with Michelle. She turned to her own book, letting him sit next to her until she got up, needing to actually go back down and sleep there. “You should get some sleep, too. School and all that.” He pulled the malfunctioning mask back on and gave her a thumbs up. Jumping up he ran to the edge of the building and jumped from it… Michelle gasped as no web came from his wrist and for the second time that night she heard his “Oops” as a scream as he fell onto the fire escape. “I’m good!” He assured her right away as he finally managed to get a web out of the other wristband and swung away. Michelle shook her head amused and finally turned to back down and to bed as well.

*-*-*-*

In the next two weeks, things changed for Peter, but he had to admit, he loved the change a lot. Michelle now sat with him and Ned and she casually slipped him some articles that would help him with being the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, mostly about deescalating a situation, how to talk to traumatized children and such. It was small, but he really, really appreciated it. Today he found an article in his backpack about the Sokovia Accords, with several pages highlighted.

He put them on his bedside table to read when he came back from the patrol that night, not knowing that Michelle herself would prevent him from doing so. He was just wrapping up helping a young man out of the Hudson river - alcohol and a fight with his girlfriend were involved - when he got a text. Karen helpfully showed it to him right away. It was Michelle.

“Could really use a friendly neighborhood arachnid faceplanting onto my roof right now” was what it said. The text caused his stomach to cramp uneasily. He knew something was wrong. He didn’t know everything about Michelle, but she was proud and she would not outright ask for help like that. This was her asking for help. It might not be in the letters, but he knew. And he also knew it was…not good.

When he arrived on her roof - this time no faceplanting involved, it was rather graceful, thank you - he could not see her. He saw her spot and her box and her blanket piled up.

“MJ?”, he asked, leaving his mask on for now, not sure if someone else was perhaps here or not. A beep from the mask alerted him of the heartbeat under the blankets the same time he heard MJ say “Here” from under there. It sounded so weak and shaky. A cold shudder ran through him as he ran. He usually wouldn’t run, but he had to run in this case, something in him told him to. She had already lifted the blanket for him. It took only a short glance at her for him to see what was wrong. Her arm looked funny and not normal at all. Broken “What happened?” he asked as he knelt down next to her.

“My stepfather got drunk. He…flailed and hit me in the face with the elbow and I fell down the stairs.” She said. He saw the bruise under her eye. It didn’t look good.

“I’m taking you to the hospital!” He announced.

“No. Peter, I can’t. I…can't afford it.” The vigilante smiled under his mask.

“Do not worry about that, okay? Spider-Man has ways, trust me. That arm needs treatment!” He could see it in her eyes, that she knew he was right. She hated this situation much more than he did, too. And he did hate it. He felt rage at her stepfather, but also at himself. He should have asked her more. He should not have let her explanation slide. He should have considered her pride. But he couldn’t. Peter picked her up carefully, so she could put her good arm around. He found her quiet after that. As Peter jumped from the roof - his webs working this time, as he had repaired the suit - he felt her hide her face in her shoulder, shaking, probably with fear. He couldn’t really blame her. It was not every day, one swung with spiderwebs through New York to a hospital. Peter could imagine that this even hurt quite a bit.

Once at the hospital, he gave her to the people working there and went to pay for it, with a credit card given to him for emergencies, in cases of people needing medical attention and not being able to afford them by themselves. He looked back at her before leaving the hospital, for a while. He called his aunt to tell May that he would be in the hospital for Michelle, so she wouldn’t have to stay alone - that was assuming she would stay alone like that.

When Michelle was left alone, her arm in a cast, a soothing creme on her bruises, Peter Parker was allowed to go into her. He had told the nurses, that Spider-Man had called one of Michelle's last contacts, assuming correctly that it had to be a friend who could contact everyone else that was needed in order to make sure the teenager was taken care of. He smiled at the girl as he came closer.

“Hey, how are you feeling?”, he asked her as he simply sat down close to the bed she was in. She gave him a weak smile.

“Bruised pride. A spider saved me.”

“A spider in a ridiculous onesie, might I add,” Peter said simply, echoing her thoughts from the other night and she knew why. It was just to make her smile. And it was working. “My aunt is coming to get us. She is arranging for you to stay at our place tonight…for a sleepover. I could even put on a ridiculous onesie.”

“No ridiculous onesie required. And Spider-Mans onesie is kind of cool.”

“Thank you,” Peter said with a smile.

“Thank you, Peter… it feels pretty good to have a friend. One who always has your back.”

[holylulusworld]

Magic Heartache – Part 17

Summary: After years of unrequited love Dean admits his feelings for the reader. She gives herself to him only to find out he got hit by a spell.

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam, Castiel mentioned: Rowena, Crowley, Eileen

Warnings: language, pregnant reader, giving birth (no description), spells, fluff, Daddy!Dean, Daddy!Sam

Magic Heartache Masterlist

 2 months later…

“God my bump is so huge!” You whine while Dean tries to help you to get comfortable.

Lying against his chest you sigh. Gently stroking your huge baby bump Dean smiles at the thought that soon he can see his son. A hint of fear is creeping into his mind.

Sam, Cas, Crowley, and Rowena found all the demons who were behind the conspiracy. The apostate angels are dead too but Dean is still worried all the time.

“I’m safe with you Dean. I won’t leave the bunker until the baby is born. Castiel knows how to help me while I give birth to our son. I don’t need to go to a hospital.”

“I’m still worried.”

“I know Dean, me too. Castiel will help us hiding our son from the angels. Rowena told me something about a powerful spell to hide our baby from the demons.”

“Still don’t like that witch.”

"She helped me getting you back so I owe her my trust, Dean. I know you don't like witches but she won't harm our baby. She never harmed me Dean, please give her a chance."

“Fine, but I’ll keep an eye on her either way.”

“Dean?”

“Hmmm?”

“I’m a bit worried. What if I’m a bad mom?”

"You'll be a great mom. Hell, you are nursing Sam and me for years." Dean chuckles.

“That’s not the same! You are grown, men!"

"Exactly. Still, you have the urge to pamper us all the time. You even played airplane with a spoon when I had a broken leg."

“Don’t you like it?”

“I don’t like it…I love it…just like you Pumpkin.”

"Whoa, your son is kicking me like insane today."

"Really?" Dean asks excitedly.

“Give me your hand…wait. Place it here.”

“You right. He wants to play football I guess.”

“Not funny!”

“Shit, that was a hard kick…that really hurt.” You groan.

Starting to pant you feel pain shooting through your abdomen. Using the techniques you learned with Dean you squeeze his hand tight.

“Dean I think you need to get Castiel.”

“Why?”

“Cause you son will pop out every minute. Get Castiel! Now!” You groan in pain.

"Okay, Cas is here. What can I do?" Dean asks panicked.

“Calming down Dean!”

“Huh? Yeah…wait I’ll hold your hand.”

“Dean just let Y/N rest her back against your chest. I know what to do.” Castiel says in a soothing voice.

"I still don't like the idea that you will have a look at the most private part of my girlfriend," Dean mutters.

"Do you want a foreign doctor to have a look? Or a male nurse? Let Cas do it. He knows what he's doing."

“Dean I can assure you I don’t intend to look at Y/N most private parts. I’m going to guide the baby out of her body with my grace. She will feel no pain this way.”

“Fine, Cas. Just do what you have to do to keep her and my son save.”

Three hours later…

"Look at his tiny fingers. God, he's so cute." You squeal.

"And he's handsome like his father," Dean states full of pride.

“Right now he’s cute. Look at the little nose. We did a great job.”

“Yeah Pumpkin, we did.”

Kissing your cheek softly he slings his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind while you’re holding his son in your arms. Resting his head on your shoulder he smiles at the little boy.

“Cas you did a great job, thank you.”

“No need to thank me, Y/N.”

“Sammy look at my son, are you ready to be an uncle, baby brother?”

“More than ready. I already helped Rowena and Crowley to prepare the spell to protect your son. Everything is fine, the spell is safe." Sam answers. Stroking the tiny head of his nephew he can't stop smiling.

"Good, Castiel will use his grace to give him a nice Enochian tattoo too, but this will need a bit more time. The little man is not strong enough yet." Dean says still staring at the little boy in your arms.

“Do you want to hold your son Dean?” You ask softly.

“Are you sure? I mean I don’t want to hurt him.”

“You are his father; you could never hurt your little boy. Here just hold him like that.”

Smiling Dean looks down at the bundle of joy in his arms. Sighing you watch the man you love holding your baby in his arms.

Honestly, you can't be mad at the witch anymore. She made you the greatest gift.

She gave you Dean and your son…

8 years later…

“So how did you meet mommy?” Your son asks.

“Well she was a tough hunter like your dad and we met on a hunt.” Dean answers.

“And how did you fall in love with her?” Your daughter asks.

“Well…ahem…a spell…”

“Dean!” You scold.

“She used a spell called love. The first time I laid my eyes on her I fell in love with her. I just needed some time to admit it,” Dean answers smiling.

“Awesome!” The six years old girl giggles.

“So RJ, Mary Josephine how about some pancakes for breakfast?” Dean tries to change the subject.

“No, uncle Dean it, was so interesting. Tell us how Daddy met mommy!”

"Well, Steven my little brother met your mom on a hunt too," Dean answers the question of Sam's son.

"Alright kids come with me and Daddy will make us all pancakes. Come with me Steven, you can help me to place the plates on the table."

"Yay!" The kids squeal excitedly.

Smiling Eileen strokes her baby bump mouthing a thank you for taking care of her son.”

"Whoa, Eileen I guess you will pop out your daughter soon." Dean chuckles.

“Go and make the pancake for the hungry kids or they will eat you alive.” Sam scolds.

Smiling at each other both brothers move toward their wife’s to give them a soft kiss.

“Did you really want to tell your kids about the spell?” You scold.

“Well you’ve got me under your spell, it’s true,” Dean answers grinning.

“Daddy I want pancakes with Vanilla like mommy likes it,” MJ pleas.

“Sure, your daddy makes you and mommy some with vanilla and Steven and MJ get some with cinnamon. Right guys?”

“Yes, uncle Dean,” Steven answers.

“Dude stop calling me uncle, I feel old when you call me like that.”

“But you are old uncle Dean,” The boy says without thinking twice.

Hurt Dean looks at you and you smile at him. Moving your hand over his chest you kiss his cheek softly.

“Daddy, you’re still the hottest guy I ever met. I should thank that witch for cursing us. Make the kids and us pancakes and then Eileen and Sam will take them to the park to walk the dog,” you whisper.

“Why are you telling me this?” Dean asks confused.

“Well daddy we will have the whole bunker on our own for at least two hours so you can spank my cute ass and then you can poke me with your stick…”

THE END...

Magic Heartache Tags

@deansgirl79, @hhiggs, @supernatural-bellawinchester​​ , @mirandaaustin93, @spnfamily-thewinchesters

Forever Tags

@donnaintx, @screechingartisancashbailiff, @fallen-wolf22 , @curly-haired-disaster, @sister-winchesters99, @mogaruke, @the-is13, @helloitsmeamie203, @strayrosesbloom , @thewinchesterco , @hobby27, @kittycatlover18,   @gh0stgurl, @marvelfansworld , @sandlee44, @hawaiianohana15, @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt​, @katpatrova17​, @notyourtypicalrose , @heyitscam99, @onethingthatkeepsmealive, @natura1phenomenon​, @flamencodiva

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags

@spnfamily-thewinchesters​, @love-my-not-natural-babies​, @supernatural-bellawinchester​, @butifulsoul125​, @lyinginthegingerlocks​, @mirandaaustin93​, @hawaiianohana15​, @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester

[toms-order]

Take Me Away

Request: Could you do a drunk reader fic with peter at a party and she reveals her true feelings to peter and make it super fluffy??

Peter Parker x Reader

You could feel the chemicals of the alcohol run through your body. You were in a drunken state, you could tell. You felt like you could walk on water, even though you'd probably fall over right away. The music filled the whole room, blasting as loud as it can. You were surrounded by sweaty body’s moving to the beat. You held a red solo cup in your hand, much like others in the room. Except yours was almost empty again. You couldn't recall what drink you were on. You stopped counting after the forth. You didn't know anyone at the party really. You had just came for your best friend Peter and Ned, but they were nowhere to be seen. You started to make your way out of the crowd, pushing past people, not caring if they gave you a dirty look. You stumbled your way to the corner of the room, leaning your back against the wall. You sighed, praying Peter and Ned would show up.

Your relationship with Peter was all you could think about. It was a complicated relationship. He was your best friend, he was the only one who understood you. He was the only you’ve ever loved, the only one you could see yourself ever loving. But Peter didn’t know about that. You wanted to tell him, you wanted to confess everything. You wanted him to listen to you, to hear how much you really loved him. You tried to tell him once, but that didn’t really work out for you, so you decided maybe it was best to never tell him. But the alcohol in your system was giving you the confidence to finally tell him. Drunk you wanted to find Peter and tell him everything, but sober you wanted you to calm down and go home.

Right as that thought crossed your mind, you saw him. He was facing Ned, laughing at something he had said. You felt your heart warm at the sight of him. His head was thrown back while he let out a laugh. You could see the beautiful crinkles in his eyes and his massive smile. You got off the wall, pushing your way through people towards them. The alcohol had taken over your body. Your mind felt out of control. Peter had finally noticed you. He shot you a grin before realizing your drunken state.

“Are you okay?” He asked with concern.

You nodded, flashing him a smile. “Peachy.” You slurred.

Peter nervously laughed, placing a hand on your back. “Why don’t we go sober up outside where its quiet.”

You pouted but followed him outside anyways. Ned had left you two, to go talk to MJ you assumed.

You couldn’t walk in a straight line. In fact, you could barely walk at all. Peter had wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you up. You felt butterflies in your stomach and felt the tingles from his touch. Peter had set you down on the curb, making sure you could sit yourself up.

You giggled, poking Peter’s nose. “You wanna know a secret?” You whispered to him.

Peter chuckled, taking your hand away from his face. He nodded. “I would love to hear a secret.” He said in amusement.

That was the moment where the alcohol took over your voice. “I’m in love with you.” You laughed, looking at your shoes.

You hadn’t seen Peter’s reaction, but he was silent. He didn’t say a word. You thought that meant he didn’t feel the same way, so you felt yourself become more aware. You snapped out of it. Tears welled up in your eyes. You couldn’t believe what you had just said.

“Is this drunk you talking?” Peter grabbed your attention. His face held shock, while yours held regret.

You didn’t wanna lie anymore. You were tired of hiding your feelings, but at the same time you wished you hadn’t said it.

“It’s the truth.” You admitted. You avoided looking him in the eyes. You hoped your confession wouldn’t change anything.

But instead of the reaction you thought you were gonna get, you got the opposite. Peter smiled. He laughed out loud, bringing you into his arms.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.” He confessed.

You were shocked to say the least. You thought for sure you had ruined everything.

You raised your eyebrows. “Does this mean..?” You trailed off.

“It means, once you're sober I’m gonna kiss you, and ask you on a date.” He grinned at you.

You didn’t know what came over you, but you latched your arms on Peter, bringing him into a bear hug.

But as soon as you settled into the hug, you felt something come up.

“Oh no.”

******************************************

This was short im so sorry!! I hope you like it though!!!

if you wanna be on my permanent taglist go here 

Permanent Taglist: @thekidsofneibolt  @roses-hxlland @spideydaddyboy @lemirabitur   @go-grace-lightening @beautiful-holland @sholla4-314 @sorceressandy @desir-ae @crapriotism  @iaiabear @southsiderepresent @utautattooedghoul @fucking-reddie  @a-singleboat @that70skiwi @izzzzygraaat @beansparker @pizzarollpatrol @imma-witch-bitch@tomhollandandmarvelsworld @smexylemony @spacequeenstuff @spacemarkimoo @leslieandjensen @shadaeb11 @lawngnomesandfafhoes @punani-parker @yoinksholland @da5haexowin @trashqueenbitch @curly-haired-holland   @tremendousstudentartisanfestival @othersillyfangirl @mooshoon  @kira-marieee  @lou-la-lou

[thedyslexicbard]

Tangled in Webs ~ Chapter 3 The Unbreakable Promise

bt A/N: oh I’m back with the next instalment if you want the previous chapters they are on a master list i will post later!!

After some re thinking and re watching i have decided to change a few things such as peters hair length and some other bits :) sorry for the huge hiatus i was just uninspired and didnt feel like writing but im back baby :) 

For previous chapters look in the #tangled in webs tag :)

Words 2417 Yeah thats a lot of freakin words bro 

Summary: so as the title suggests its a Tangled AU where you as the reader are Flynn Rider until you reveal your true name as Y/N Y/L/N but you’ve seen Tangled right? and peter of course is Rapunzel but his name is peter!!

Peter looked out of his tower and sighed as the sun began to set, he twisted round leaning against the windowsill huffing “guess i'll be watching the lights from here” Peter looked at M-J who gave him a sympathetic squeal. Peter didn't notice the figure running towards his tower until it was to late.

The Girl fell face forward the brown satchel slipped from her hands as Peter let out a cry hiding behind a mannequin, Peter peeped over the top of the mannequin then using it to shield himself as he moved forward to the body.Peter winced as he drew the frying pan once more prodding the girls head flinching back as if to see if the girl moved, nothing happened peter looked to MJ with a confused expression to chameleon was just as confused replying with a simple shrug. Peter looked back at the body his frying pan was still ready to THWACK again he stepped forward nudging the girls head revealing part of her face he took a moment to look at her features then looked to MJ, who in return went to the exaggerated portrait of a thug peters mother drew only moments before mimicking the red colour and miming pointy teeth. Peter flipped the pan around using the handle to push the girls top lip to reveal normal white teeth, peter Gasped he then flipped her hair from her face to show the most beautiful girl Peter had ever seen that wasn't a portrait in a book. He moved in closer admiring her beauty when a bright (Eye Colour) Eye peered back at him in one split second Peter hit the Girl again in fear.

Peter had to do something about the girl he couldn't just leave her there on the floor for his mother to find, peter paced around looking for places to hide a body his long hair flowing behind him “Ah HA i got it MJ i’ll hide her in here” he exclaimed wrapping his hair around the girl and using his strength to pull her towards the Wardrobe (Closet). “okay here goes” he huffed pulling the girl up letting her limp body flop on him as he used a web to pull open the door, “jeez i never knew a girl could weigh so much” peter huffed “okay in you go” peter moved quickly so that the girl would flop into the wardrobe but she infarct missed. this time peter aimed his web shooter to a high beam in the tower wrapping his hair around the girl again he swung dropping Flynn into the wardrobe the force closing the doors tight “YEs” peter cheered dropping in front to pull his hair from the closet “oh no, no, no don’t be stuck OH COME ON !” peter face planted the door grumbling nonsense as he opened the doors again The body flopping out instantly. he took a few steps back thinking of a solution.

His next attempt seemed flawless push the body up quickly close the doors but no the girl flopped out once more, “Okay this time will indefinably work” peter thought he grabbed a nearby broom lifting the girl up and pushing her in and slamming the doors on her hand “ouch” peter winched as he poked the hand back in pushing a chair up to stop her flopping out again.

“okay, okay, I have a person in My Closet, I've got a person in my closet,” peter started still not believing himself as he spoke to his reflection “I have a Person in My closet!! Haha Awww Yeah Two week to handle myself out there,huh Mother? Well tell that to my Frying pan”  

BONK !

“huh?” peter rubbed his head where he hit it with the frying pan noticing a shiny object in the satchel the girl dropped, he walked towards it picking up the object admiring the bright blue crystals and gold rim, he scrunched his face trying to figure out what it was. He held out his pinky finger sliding the crown on as if it were one of his mothers hideous rings looking at MJ to see her opinion, She only shook her head. Peter held the crown closer to his face closing one eye as if he was using one of the many magnifying glasses looking at MJ again who only shook her head. Frustrated peter turned to the mirror again looking at his reflection he looked at the crown in his hands and deciding to place it upon his head staring at his reflection his hazel eyes wide with curiosity-

“Oh Peter!!” Gothel cried from the bottom of the tower snapping peter from his trance, he stated rushing around putting the crown into a pot and heading to the window.  “would you let down that rope”

“one moment mother” peter shouted down as he hooked the rope around the window hook letting it drop to the ground.

“i have a big surprise!” Gothel shouted upwards with delight as she grabbed the rope

“uh, i Do too”

“Oh i bet my surprise is bigger!”

“I seriously doubt it” peter mumbled pulling the rope, Mother Gothel appearing at the window beaming

“i brought back parsnips. i'm going to make hazelnut soup for dinner, your favourite. Surprise!!”

Peter pulled the rest of the rope back into the tower leaving it in a neat pile “Well Mother there is something i want to tell you”

“oh Peter , you know i hate leaving you after a fight” she started hanging her cloak up and heading to the kitchen area “especially when i have done absolutely nothing wrong”

“okay, i’ve been thinking a lot  about what you said, earlier” peter started eagerly  as he shuffled closer to the wardrobe as not to spoil his surprise.

“I hope you’re not still talking about the stars.” he tone became dull with a hint of aggravation “Floating lights” peter corrected “and yes I’m leading up to that” he moved closer to the wardrobe

“because i really thought we dropped the issue, sweetheart”

“No mother, i'm just saying, you think i'm not strong enough to handle myself out there” his hand was mere inches away from the chair holding his ticket to see the Floating lights, Gothel turned to face Peter “Oh darling, i know you’re not strong enough to handle yourself out there”

“But if you Just-”

“-Peter we’re done talking about this” Gothel faced him anger lacing her tone

“Trust me-”  “-Peter!-” “-...I know what i’m-” “-Peter” “Oh Come on” His hand was on the handle he could finally -

” PETER ENOUGH With THE LIGHTS peter you are never leaving. this. tower. EVER!” GOthel screamed her voice echoing within the tower, Peter flinched with every word his hand moving away from the chair and his freedom

“ugh great. Now i look like the bad guy” Gothel slumped into her chair head in her hand, Peter didn’t know what to do he could feel tear pricking at his eyes he hated making his mother shout at him. Peter looked around the room his sight settling on his new painting of the lights then back to wardrobe he sighed “all i was going to say, mother is that i know what i want for my birthday, now.” peter warped his arms around him in a hug smiling

“and what is that?”

“new paint. That paint made from the white shells you once brought me”

“Well that is a very long trip peter almost three days time”Gothel protested

“i just thought it was a better idea than, uh, stars.”

Gothal sighed getting up from her chair walking towards peter “are you sure you’ll be alright, on your own?” peter wrapped his arms around Gothel “i know i’m safe as long as i’m here” Gothel kissed his hair in acknowledgement.

Peter packed Gothel a basket of food as she put her cloak back on “i’ll be back in three days time, i love you very much, my dear”  

“I love you more”

“I love you most”

Peter watched as Gothel left the tower and through the hidden passage and in a flash he raced to the wardrobe armed with his frying pan he moved the chair from the wardrobe shielding himself, he took in a deep breath exhaling “OKay”  he grabbed his hair and whipped it to the handle pulling it open, Flynn Flopped out with very little grace peter to checked to see if she was a live and tied her to the chair with his hair and some of his webs. Peter pulled the chair into the sunlight beaming into the tower, Mj squealed as she popped up on Flynns shoulder she slapped her a few times but gave up reeing up she stuck her tongue right in Flynns ear.

“AAHHHHHHHHH….. What?” flynn screamed her breathing became erratic as she tried to figure out her surroundings, she noticed she was tied up and looked down at the restrains “is this hair?” she asked looking at how far it goes stopping at a shadow

“struggling …. Struggling is pointless” Peter stammers fear and adrenaline took over

“Huh?” Flynn squinted at the shadow

“I know why you’re here” peter started moving closer “And i'm not afraid of you”

“What?” Peter emerged from the shadows his frying pan ready to strike “Who are you, And how did you find me?

“Ah ha” was all Flynn could say

“Who are you, and how did you find me?” peter asked again his frying pan raised

“ahem , i know not who you are Nor how i came to find you but may i just say…. Hi” she smirked “how you doing? The names Flynn Ryder, how's your day going,huh?”

Peter looked confused at the confidence Flynn had he huffed “Who else knows my location, FLynN RyDer?” he spoke pointing the pan back at Flynn.

“All right Blondie-”

“Peter”

“Guzuntight, here's the deal, I was in a situation, Gallivanting through the forest, i came across your tower and” sudden realization hit Flynn “oh no where is my satchel?”

“I’ve hidden it, somewhere you’ll never find it.” peter bluffed but Flynn didn’t buy it as she scanned the tower her eyes landing on a ceramic pot  “its in that pot,isn't it.”

THWACK

Flynn woke again to MJ’s tongue in her ear again she look at the lizard before screaming “Will you stop that!” rubbing the side of her head on her shoulder

“Now its hidden where you’ll never find it” peter smirked waving his hair behind him he stated to pace around Flynn “So, what do you want, with my hair? To cut it?”

“What?!”

“Sell it?”

“No! Listen, the only thing i want to do with your hair, which is a very large amount for a guy like you is get out of it. Literally!! And what's with this other stuff, and please tell me it didn't come out of you”

“What!? No i made it it's like spiders webs and glue”

“Right your like the king you make things cool cool cool cool no doubt no doubt”

“Wait, you don't want my hair?” Peter was confused his mother told him that his hair would be the only reason anyone would want to hurt him

“Why on earth would i want your hair?” Flynn was even more confused why would anyone come to steal someone's hair “Look, i was being chased, i saw a tower, i climbed it, end of story.”

“You’re telling the truth?”

“Yes”

“Hummm” Peter ran everything though his head as Mj popped up once more running down his arm to the end of the frying pan, she stared flynn down as peter moved her away growling.Flynn just looked confused.

MJ started to squeal and squeak as if she was talking to peter “i know, i need someone to take me.” peter began  earning a few more squeaks “i think she’s telling the truth, too.” more questioning squeaks “doesn't have fangs, but what choice do i have?”.

Flynn peerd round concern played on her face as she started to bounce on the chair to move peter sighed “oh okay Flynn Ryder, I’m Prepared to offer you a deal.”

“Deal?”

“Look this way” peter pulled his hair making the chair spin losing its balance making Flynn fall face first “oof” Peter on the other hand climbed on top of the fireplace pulling the curtain back on his new masterpiece “Do you know what these are?”

“You mean the lantern thing they do for the Prince?” she spoke face squashed against the floor

“Lanterns….i knew they weren’t stars. Well, tomorrow evening they will light the night sky,with these lanterns. You, will act as my guide take me to these lanterns and return me home safely Then and only then, will i return your satchel to you that is my deal”

FLynn smiled at how ridiculous this guy was being as she tried to roll over “yeah, no can do, unfortunately, the kingdom and i aren't exactly, ‘Simpatico’ at the moment so i won't be taking you anywhere”

Peter raised an eyebrow and looked at MJ who motioned to whoop Flynn’s ass, he jumped down from the mantle and pulled his hair in turn FLynns chair lifted up “something brought you here, FlYNn RyDEr, call it what you will Fate, Destiny.”

“A horse” she deadpanned

“So i have made the decision to trust you.”

“A horrible Decision, Really.” she mumbled

“But trust me, when i tell you this” peter moved in closer so he was face to face with the girl “you can tear this tower apart, brick by brick but without my help you will never find your precious satchel.” Flynn gulped “LEt me just get this straight, i Take you to see the lanterns, bring you back home and you’ll give me back my satchel?”

“I Promise” Flynn only raised her eyebrow at him “And when i Promise something, i never Ever break that Promise EVER!”

“Alright, listen, i didn't want to have to do this but you leave me no choice Here comes the ‘Smolder’” Flynn tried to pull a sexy face but peter didn't buy it he just looked at her with pure determination “this is kind of an off day for me. This doesn't normally happen… FINE! I’ll take you to see the lanterns”

“REALLY!!” Peter exclaimed letting go of the chair Flynn slammed face first once more into the floor “oops” “i think you broke my face”

__________________

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[she-writes-words]

Familiar to Me  Pt. 3 The One Time I Needed the Signal But Didn't Have It

Pairing: Spider-Man x Original Female Character

Word Count: 1.0k

Warnings: Violence! This may be a chapter to skip if attempted assault(?) is triggering to you. 

A/N: Please enjoy the third installment of Familiar to Me!

Pt.1   Pt.2   Pt.3   Pt.4   Pt.5

Had I known tonight would go this way, I wouldn’t have given Peter my Spidey-Signal.

My parents let MJ take me to a movie on a weeknight thanks to MJ’s excuse of it being her birthday. My parents were oblivious to the fact that her birthday was last month. We had celebrated on the rooftop with Ned and Peter, they even ordered the cake for me. MJ told me it was to act as an apology for being a “shit friend”, her words not mine, and for teasing me about the whole Spider-Man thing.

The movie we were seeing didn’t end until midnight, so here I was walking home alone in the middle of the night. I had done this so many times before, it was a normal thing for me. The footsteps behind me, however, were not. They were heavy and loud, and much too close for comfort.

Picking up my pace until I was almost running, I turned down what I thought to be a well-lit alley but ended up leading to a dead end. The sound of the feet was right behind me, scaring me even more. I pulled my purse off my shoulder and threw it at the approaching figure.

“I don’t have much, just take the whole thing,” I told him shakily. He laughed and threw it to the ground before lunging forward and yanking me towards him by my arm. I closed my eyes and screamed, attempting to yank myself away from the man.

He pulled me to his chest, breath in my ear. I continued screaming, praying that someone heard me. No, that HE heard me. The struggle between us was making the skin of my arms burn and scream. I tried scratching, biting, you name it, but my attacker was too strong. Each time he would pull me back to him, slapping a hand over my mouth, and laugh in my ear, whispering horrible things in it. He started dragging me towards the corner of the alley when suddenly, my arm was released, the force of it making me fall to the ground.

A not so manly yell from across the stretch of alley caused me to look up and I couldn’t help but gasp at the sight in front of me. My attacker was stuck to the wall, trapped by one of Spider-Man’s webs. The masked hero was talking into his phone, paying no attention to me. I watched my attacker struggle unsuccessfully as I stood up on shaky legs.

Picking up my bag with shaky hands, I notice the talking had stopped. Looking back up, Spider-Man is facing me, watching me carefully. “Thank you,” I whispered into the alley.

He starts walking up to me, slowly, quietly. When he stops in front of me, I wring my hands together and flinch when he reaches his hands out towards my face. He apologizes and runs his fingers across my skin in gentle sweeps, right under my eyes and down my cheeks. That’s when I realized I had been crying.

“I thought I told you to be safe?” He shook his head at me, wiping the fresh tears that pour from my eyes.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know why, but I am,” I hiccupped out my apology in between sobs. I apologized maybe five times before he shut me up. The bone-crushing hug he pulled me into is what does it.

I let myself fall into his warmth, wrapping my arms around his waist. Once again, I’m struck with a sense of déjà vu. I pressed the palm of my hand against his back, digging my fingers into the fabric of his suit and breathing in his scent. A feeling of peace and safety rushed over me. The shock caused me to jump lightly when I felt gloved fingers grab the back of my neck and hold me closer for a moment.

“As much as I love hugs, the cops will be here soon. You might want to get out of here unless you want to deal with million questions they’ll have. “I sighed and pulled back from him, wiping my streaky face.

“Won't they need to talk to me? Ya know, to file a report?” I looked at him through swollen eyes, slightly confused, but he shook his head. I could see his cheeks pulled up into a small smile.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it covered.” He grabbed me by the shoulders, turning me around. “Seriously, Lana, go home. Do not come out here so late again. Be safe, please.” He tightened his hand on my shoulders, but before he could push me away from the alley, I turned in his arms.

“Spidey?” I questioned softly. When he looked back at me I froze for a minute. “Can-Can I do something? Real quick?” He nodded hesitantly at my smile.

I reached my hands up to his face, brushing my fingers over the fabric of his mask before pulling it up to his nose. I smiled at the slight pout of his lips when he flinched a bit. Before he could say anything or stop me, I pressed my lips to his. It was short but so sweet. He was still, in shock, for the slightest second before pressing his lips back into mine.

My hand cupped his cheek as I pulled him closer, enjoying the sensation of his soft lips moving with mine. Kissing Spider-Man was exhilarating. I felt electricity all throughout my body as we stood there entwined, fully thrown into the sensations. It was beautiful, it was dreamy, and like all dreams, it had to come to an end.

I giggled as I pulled away, catching my bottom lip between my teeth. “Thank you so much for saving me. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

Spider-man ran his hand through my hair, smiling at me. His lips puffy and pink, white teeth poking out. “I just want you to be safe, Lana. Go home.”

I nodded and followed his instructions, turning to make my way home as he pulled his mask back over his mouth. He turned back to the webbed man, stalking towards him. I turned back halfway down the street, watching him yell at the forgotten man stuck to the wall. A smile graced my lips as I touched them with my fingers. The sound of sirens had me jumping and running back home as quickly as possible.

[petepepsi]

you wanted spiderman asks so uhh: hey you know what one post that’s like “what if peter quill is a well-known missing child on earth a la jonbenet ramsey” ok i raise you THIS: peter parker being kind of a conspiracy theory nerd and knowing a lot abt the peter quill case and the first time he finds out star lords real name he just yells PETER QUILL???? and nearly loses it

i really like this so i whipped up a quick little post-avengers 4 fic,,,idk it might suck but here

It’s weird, the ride home fromTitan.

Although, Peter assumes, anysituation involving two and a half aliens, a wizard, and a kid with spiderpowers is kinda weird.

The Milano is a nice ship (comparedto all one of the spaceships Peter’sbeen on); it’s spacious with two convenient extra rooms for Peter and Strangeto sleep in, if they’d like. Peter’s is covered in twigs and leaves. He’s told thatit’s Groot’s room, but he’s never told who Groot is. Judging by the strangelyfuturistic handheld gaming systems scattered around, Peter thinks that Groot mightbe cool. To try them out is tempting, but Peter doesn’t dare. He wants to makea good first impression on Groot if he gets to meet him. Invasions of privacyaren’t very good conversation starters.

There’s another room with the doorkept shut. Star-Lord looks softly at it, and Peter assumes it is, or was, the room of Gamora. Peter doesn’task. It’s a silent agreement they’ve made, to not to mention any dead. AllPeter knows about Gamora is that she was green and beautiful. He pictures an Idina-Menzel-in-Wickedkind of look, but he doubts that it’s accurate.

Peter spends most of his time inthe main area of the ship talking to the Guardians, as they call themselves. Mostly,he asks questions. They’re basic ones, mostly about other aliens, how manyaliens are there, how their ship works, et cetera, et cetera. He worries thathe’s being annoying, but he can’t really stop himself because – holy shit!Aliens are real! And they’ve been toEarth multiple times! It gets his conspiracy brain running into overdrive.

But, despite all of his questions,one never really came up.

“Hey, uh, what’s yourname?”

Peter hesitates, Star-Lord’s questioncatching him off guard. His name?He’d told them his name, certainly.

“What do you mean?” heasks.

“I mean,” Star-Lord clarifies.“I’ve been calling you variations on Spider-Kid for the past hour and it’sstarting to get awkward.”

Right.He’d introduced himself as Spider-Man. Would it be too weird to just let it continue?Drax would probably keep calling him Arachnid for the rest of the trip, anyway.

But, no, yeah, he should probablyjust say his actual name. Being called Spider-Man out of costume was really off-putting,anyway.

“It’s Peter,” he saysafter a pause. “Parker. Peter Parker.”

Star-Lord looks at Peter, and agrin lights up his face that startles Peter a bit too much.

“No way!” he exclaims.“I’m Peter, too!”

“What?” Peter responds,not smiling and genuinely confused. “You said your name wasStar-Lord?”

From the back of the ship, Peterhears a resounding “HA!” from Drax.

“I just assumed! You neversaid anything otherwise!” Peter argues defensively, his face turning aflustered shade of pink.

Peter, the other Peter, chuckles.“No, it’s Peter. I don’t have the alliteration, though. My last name’sQuill.”

There’s a pause, the rednessdraining from Peter’s face as his expression goes blank.

“Peter Quill?” he repeats. “Like—like Peter Quill?”

Star-Lord looks at him for a moment,nodding, an awkward chuckle escaping his lips as he can see the gears turningin Peter’s head.

“Holy shit!” Peter exclaims, practically leaping to his feet out ofthe chair. “I—I mean you said you were from Earth and I kind of thoughtthat there was—Oh my god this is the coolest thing ever Ned’s gonna freak outwhen I tell him—Peter Quill!”

Peter continues like that for aminute, pacing back and forth excitedly. Quill watches, waiting for a lull inhis thoughts to ask him, “What are you talking about?”

Peter stops pacing, looking Quillin the eye with unbridled enthusiasm. “You’re Peter Quill! You’re, like, alegend.”

“Well, I didn’t that Earth’sheard of me, so that’s neat,” Quill says, a slight smirk gracing his lips.

“You’re one of the biggest conspiracy theories ever!”

“What?”

“You're—I don’t know how toexplain it’s like—You went missing as a kid, right, of course you don’t know, uh…”Peter’s voice trails off, and he looks down contemplatively. “This might getcomplicated, you got any paper? Or a corkboard and some red string?”

“I’ll get some paper,” Quillresponds.

—

Two hours laterand the Guardians are all sitting in Groot’s room listening as Peter finallywraps up his in-depth explanation of The Mysterious Disappearance of PeterQuill. He’d gone through the story, how it became popular, and several theoriesthat the people of Earth had come up with. He pays special attention to thetheory that Quill had been abducted by aliens, since that one was true and (asPeter very adamantly points out) it was also the one that Peter believed the most.

(“And MJand Ned thought it was stupid! Well, who’sstupid now, eh?”

“It at leastmakes more sense than the ‘stolen by Bigfoot’ theory.”

“EXACTLY!”)

Strange pokeshis head in exactly once, wondering why they’re making such a racket. Rightwhen he hears the words “conspiracy theory,” he leaves.

[cutsliceddiced]

New top story from Time: ESPN’s New Michael Jordan Documentary Is Exactly What We Need Right Now. Here’s How They Made It

ESPN has taken noble swings at programming a sports network with no sports. But there are only so many airings of marbles races, old games and gabfests about the April 23–25 NFL draft—an event that, during the COVID-19 pandemic, feels as significant as a speck of sand—that viewers can take. That’s why fans clamored so hard for ESPN to move up its highly anticipated 10-part docuseries starring Michael Jordan, widely regarded as the greatest athlete ever to grace this earth, from an original airdate of June 2—coinciding with an NBA Finals series that no longer exists—to ASAP. People need a dose of nostalgia, and reason to anticipate any kind of shared cultural experience, now more than ever.

Luckily, the network listened. The first two episodes of The Last Dance, which chronicles Jordan’s final championship season, with the 1998 Chicago Bulls, debut on the network on Sunday, April 19. On each of the following four Sundays, a pair of new episodes will premiere on ESPN; the series will stream on Netflix outside the U.S. starting on April 20. Through previously unaired footage captured from a crew embedded with Air Jordan and the Bulls that 1997–1998 season, and fresh interviews with all the major characters—including Jordan, his running mate Scottie Pippen, coach Phil Jackson and Dennis Rodman, who went on a team-sanctioned bender in Las Vegas with then girlfriend Carmen Electra in order to clear his head a bit—The Last Dance offers raw, rare insight into a team that became the subject of global obsession. (Game 6 of the 1998 NBA Finals, in which Jordan’s final shot in a Bulls uniform clinched Chicago’s third straight championship and sixth in eight years, remains the most-watched NBA game in history, having averaged 35.6 million viewers.)

For a generation of fans who never witnessed Jordan or those Bulls teams live, the film will serve as a satisfying crash course on the MJ mystique. And while amateur Jordan scholars probably won’t discover any new bombshells, at least in the eight episodes available to the media, the project offers all viewers a useful reminder: Jordan’s career arc was unfathomably bizarre. He first retired in his prime after his father’s tragic murder, shifted to playing baseball—baseball!—then took a second forced retirement after ’98 because Bulls executives, for some still inexplicable reason, felt inclined to break up a team that did nothing but win and thrill the globe. If Jordan existed in today’s Twitter-mad, media-saturated world, the unstable Internet would have already lost its collective mind.

Ron Frehm—APMichael Jordan scores 55 points vs. New York, while wearing No. 45, upon returning to the NBA in 1995.

Moving the documentary up a month and a half to appease the quarantined masses added some logistical challenges. The final two episodes aren’t done yet, and the production crew is working remotely to see it to the finish. Before the pandemic, director Jason Hehir compared the edit process to preparing Thanksgiving dinner, where he could be in the kitchen communicating with people preparing different portions of the meal. “Now, instead, they have to send me the potatoes, send me the carrots, send me the turkey via messenger,” says Hehir. “Then I can taste and tell them what I want it to be. It’s a more roundabout process.” One of the most crucial interviews—with Utah Jazz point guard John Stockton, a key Bulls foil in the 1997 and 1998 Finals—was conducted in Spokane, Wash. in early March, just before the outbreak shut down the state and the rest of the country.

Going into the 1997–98 season, Bulls management hinted that the team’s dynasty was nearing its end. So Andy Thompson, then a field producer for NBA Entertainment—and uncle of current Golden State Warriors star Klay Thompson—thought this final campaign should be recorded for posterity. But the league needed buy-in from Jordan. An up-and-coming NBA exec, current commissioner Adam Silver, pitched the idea to Jordan; he could sign off on how the footage was ultimately used. At the very least, Silver told Jordan, he’d have the most amazing collection of home movies for his kids.

The NBA shot more than 500 hours, a haul that sports documentarians had been lusting after for nearly two decades. At the 2016 NBA All-Star Game in Toronto, producer Michael Tollin, co-chairman of Mandalay Sports Media, met with Jordan’s reps. Tollin pitched the project not as a documentary but as an event. The market for long-form epics was taking off: OJ: Made in America, the multipart doc that would go on to win an Oscar, had just debuted at Sundance. (With the continued rise of streaming services that give the films a bingeable home after airing, the demand for such docs has only grown.) Jordan, assured that the project would offer breathing room to share his full story, signed on.

Although Jordan had a hand in the project—two of his longtime business managers, Curtis Polk and Estee Portnoy, are executive producers—The Last Dance doesn’t feel too sanitized. Turns out, he’s the Michael Jordan of documentary interviewees: the best talking head in the film, honest, conversational, unafraid to unfurl profanities. We see Jordan at his most petty, like in archival footage when he pokes fun at the height and weight of diminutive Bulls general manager Jerry Krause, with whom Jordan feuded for years. (Krause died in 2017.) In one interview, ex–Bulls center Will Perdue calls him an “a–hole,” before in the next breath acknowledging Jordan was a “hell of a teammate” for pushing Chicago to greatness.

Jordan defends his ruthless motivational methods. “Look, winning has a price, leadership has a price,” he says during one interview in The Last Dance. “You ask all my teammates—one thing about Michael Jordan was he never asked me to do something he didn’t f-cking do.” The film cuts to a montage of Jordan lifting weights and running sprints. Still, Jordan tears up, a middle-aged man conflicted by his past. For once, many can relate to him.

Jeff Haynes—AFP via Getty ImagesMichael Jordan celebrates his sixth, and final, title with coach Phil Jackson in 1998; both soon leave the Bulls.

The Last Dance also takes on the controversies, like Jordan’s penchant for gambling and aversion to politics. He famously refused to endorse Harvey Gantt, the African-American Democrat from Jordan’s home state of North Carolina, in his 1990 Senate race against conservative Republican Jesse Helms, who opposed the Martin Luther King Day holiday. “Republicans buy sneakers too,” said Jordan, whose Nike Air Jordan sneakers launched the concept of sports marketing into the stratosphere. (In the film, Jordan insists he made the statement in jest.) Even Barack Obama, an unabashed Bulls fan, admits to the filmmakers he wished Jordan had publicly backed Gantt.

Jordan’s defense: activism’s just not in his nature. He was too focused on his craft. “Was that selfish? Probably,” he admits. “But that’s where my energy was.”

While The Last Dance deserves credit for exploring this part of Jordan’s legacy, the section still feels like short shrift, given the emergence of social activism among today’s sports stars. What does Jordan think of modern athlete engagement? How do today’s stars, LeBron James and others, view Jordan’s neutrality? These questions go unanswered. Even in a documentary covering the late 1990s—and even amid a pandemic where politics has taken a back seat to more serious chaos—placing Jordan in a contemporary context feels not only appropriate, but crucial.

Such nitpicking, however, counts as part of the fun. And we sure can use a little of that. No Michael Jordan treatment, even one as comprehensive as The Last Dance, will leave everyone entirely fulfilled. Viewers can look forward to weekly debates about the documentary’s merits and shortcomings. Whether it’s during his playing days, his retirement years or a still surreal quarantine, His Airness is always worth talking about. Even from a social distance, it turns out, Michael Jordan can bring us together.

via https://cutslicedanddiced.wordpress.com/2018/01/24/how-to-prevent-food-from-going-to-waste

[shark-bit]

Ok I think it’s time for me to pull up my big girl panties and set this out for the world...we’ll just the first chapter cuz I’m getting antsy to post it

Under the Sun and Sea

Chap 1- Under the Seas waves

Screaming spilled out of the castle windows. Peter held his three dearest friends close as he cried out of happiness.”He said I can go!! I can go!!!” Peter shot up from his friends and spun around sending little bubbles out from disturbing the water around them.“Really! Like he really said yes?!” Gwen smiled and giggled as she watched Peter. Dark ruby red scales danced a crossed Peters waist fading down his tail to a dusty dark purple. Piercing blue shot out across the rose red bottom fins the tips kissed black. Red Sea glitter kissed his skin and his forehead had a ruby red tear drop gem at the center and pearls wrapped around his head, he had a small net tied around his waist. Peter always loved collecting shells always making sure he had netted bag with him to save away anything he found on his walks with this fathers. White scales formed around Gwens waist and faded out down to a dark purple almost black tail and her fins flared out to a blinding teal blue. A seaweed tub top covered her breast, a jewel stamped into her navel and sea glitter graced her arms and cheeks.”Oh Peter your going to love it we have this shemps...” Mary Jane slapped a hand over Gwens mouth and laughed awakardly. ”Gwendolyn honey please it’s a suprise remember.”

Mary Jane smiles and bites her lip looking to Peter. “ Tiger fish please we are all very happy but what did your father actually say?” She titles her head, her cherry red hair swayed perfectly in the currant. Fire red and orange scales fell down her hips along her tail and fired out into a beautiful flame with white tips. Two clams pressed against seaweed wrapped in netting and pearls tied around her neck and back.Peter took a deep breath and sighed his body movement making him swim back a bit”My Father said that now that I’m 18 I’m free to wonder the sea floor freely and go as I please... SolongasInevergracethetop” Peter mumbled fast. “So let’s go” he tried to swim off but Harry got a hold of his arm and pulled him back to the group before he could make his escape.

Harry’s green eyes flickered across both girls face before landing on Peters and he smiled. “What was the middle part Pete?” Harry’s black scales doted with electric sea green tail and a striking black and green fins swam them over to the door none the less. Peter blushed and puffed out his cheeks. “ I said I just can’t go to the surface is all” he sighed and looked down pushing open the doors as the girls swam after them. “I just wish he would let me be free like the other mer-people, I wanna feel the sun on my skin, the breeze through my hair, and my song on the seas winds.” Peter swam around and looked up to the surface and shook his head as he painted a smiled across his lips. Coming to a stop at the castle walls. “But about this surprise now?” He smiled and turned to MJ and titled his head his brown eyes shining with curiosity. MJ giggled and swam ahead” Oh nothing just a sunken ship...with human things.” She smirked and watched out the corner of her eye as Peter came racing to her and tackled her sending them tumbling through the water. “ A ship a sea ship oh Guys this is the best birthday adventure ever!!” Peter back flipped through the water as MJ giggled and grabbed Gwen’s hand, pulling her along. “Gwendolyn thought about it our cute little nerd saw some interesting treasures” MJ winked and leading the way.

Swimming after them Peter soon slowed as he looked back to Harry.” You don’t seem as excited about this as those two do.” Harry frowned looking down and let out a breath and then looked to Peter with worried eyes. “ You’re safer behind the castles walls Peter you know how I feel about this, I’m going along to make sure you stay safe.” He laced his fingers into Peters and pulled him closer his hand going this his waist. Harry’s other hand tip Peters chin up.” I care about you Your highness I never want to see you in danger.” He whispered softly to Peter. Peter blushed as he held eye contact with Harry, he opened his mouth to speak when Gwens sassy voice cut through them” Hey you two koi fish done making out we would like to go to the ship!” Peters face blazed red as he pushed away from Harry and raced after Gwen” WE WHERE NOT KISSING!!” He screamed as MJ stared at Harry and Harry just swam past her” lead the way” he spoke. Mary Jane seemed to snap out of her daze and race to the front of the group.” It’s a swim but we should be there soon!” Gwen swam up beside her blowing out bubbles getting the red head to giggle some.

“It’s just up ahead!” Mary Jane called you the others as the sea floor dipped down and they laying at the bottom was a ship cracked in two. It almost looked hunted the salt water taking claim over the wood, sand and muck covering some of the ship and Peters eyes shined” oh wow you guys” he whispered as if any loud sounds and the ship would just crumble into the sea floor. Gwen and swam over to a window and poked her head inside, she swam in the other trailing behind her. Harry bringing up the rear and frowning as he looked around” Not for nothing but this doesn’t seem safe....what id sharks come or a giant squid” he huffed and stayed close to the window they slipped through his eyes going over to Peter every now and than. Peter smiled seeing all the jewels and paintings the furniture that was broken along the floor, ghosting over the rubble something caught his eye and he reached down moving some wood out of the way and saw a music box laying on the very bottom level of the ship. Looking up at his friends to see them oohing at their own treasures he smiled and slipped between the floor bored and swam down to grab the music box.

He never notice the tentacle pulling back into the darkness as he descended the boat. Once his fingers reached the music box Peter grabbed it tilting his head to the side and moved it around his hands” what a beautiful box” he smiled and opened the sky blue box with gold lining and it played a beautiful melody Peter smiled as he hummed along with the tune but all to soon his happiness turned to fear as he let out a gut wrenching scream. Tentacles wrapped around his body and tail covering his mouth and pulling him into the darkness the music box dropped and forgotten. Harry laughed with the girls as they looked at a painting of fruit” humans are so weird I wonder when they have time to eat when they are stopping to draw it first.” The girls erupted in giggles again and he smiled turning his head to tell Peter his joke, but Peter was there....he wasn’t anywhere in site for that matter and Harry’s heart dropped as Peters scream sliced through the giggles and everything got quite. “Peter!” Harry yelled as he took off swimming as fast he could to the hole Peter slipped through Gwen and Mary Jane right behind him

Peter wiggled and groaned as he tried to break free of the giant octopus that had him. Peter was in a state of panic, he looked around and tried to cry out for help but with a suction cup in your mouth it was kind of hard. The only plus side to all of this was that the giant octopus was sleeping, or so Peter thought cuz he couldn’t see its eye open just moving around under its lid in a slumber. Relaxing a bit Peter let his body weight go, letting the octopus hold his weight, the sleep sea creatures tentacle that was holding Peter flopped to the floor knocking Peter lose some.Taking the little chance he had he pulled his arms free and pulled the suction cup out his mouth and gasped letting a a breath and flared to the sleeping giant. Right at that time Harry swam in seeing the monster and held out his arm to stop the girls” hey Harry what the....,” Gwen frowned but once she saw the octopus she covered her mouth and her eyes go big” Hey Guys” Peter said quietly and waved over to them a helpless smile on his face” some help would be nice” Harry swam over to Peter and frowned grabbing his arms trying to pull him free.

After 30 minutes of pulling, pushing, tugging and wiggling Peter was over it and sighed.” This is impossible I’m going to die here” he huffed throwing his hands up and blowing out bubbles. MJ sighed and looked to Harry as she stroked Peters hair” I’m so sorry Tiger Fish we will get you out if it the last thing we do” Harry held MJs gaze then looked away and swam over to the head of the octopus looking over the sleeping monster” Maybe if we just find the right tentacle and cut it off it would be fine” Gwen rolled her eyes and shook her head” so you want us to all die geez Harry think a little” she snapped and swam away from the group. Harry growled and yelled” I am you don’t think I want to get Peter out?!” As the last words left his lips the octopus woke up with a start and threw Peter across the room. Screaming he hit the far wall and sunk to the floor, Harry MJ and Gwen swimming as fast as they could to get away.

Peter didn’t know he passed out till he was being shaken by Gwen” Peter please we have to go!!” She cried as the ship was being torn apart by the giant octopus. Wood splinters flying everywhere, the ground shook with rage as the octopus began moving and thrashing about. Harry has gotten MJ out after a wooden bored almost crushed her. Peters eyes popped open and he looked around and shook his head, he couldn’t hear anything and his head was pounding. All he could hear was the melody of the music box and when he looked down it was by his finger tips. Grabbing hold of the beautiful song Peter shoved it in his net bag at his waist just as, Gwen looked behind her and screamed holding Peter close as a tentacle shot out to grab them, a hand grabbed on to Peters arm at an almost bruising grip and the both of them where pulled out and hugged into the chest of Steve Rogers”Are you kids alright” Gwen and Peter had their body’s tangled in a ball but once Gwen heard Steve’s voice she pushed away from Peter and bowed” Yo-Your grace” she stammered and bumped into Harry’s chest. Peter sighed and looked up to his father and nodded” yes...but I be now I’ll be locked away forever”

Looking between the four young mer-teens and sighing, Steve pulled Peter in for a hug”What your father doesn’t know won’t kill him.” He said with a soft smile and brushed some of the wood from Peters hair” Now let’s be back before he find out what you’ve been up to and you will really wish you where back in the boat” He laughed and lead this four back to the castles walls.

*******************

Music spilled out of the castle windows. The beautiful merman spun and dance around with his friends and laughed as he pulled Gwen and MJ close. The night was filled with laughter and song, everyone dancing and having a good time Peter gasped as he laughed holding his sides as Harry smiled fondly at him grabbing his hand and pulling him away from the other” Harry you really do have the funnest stories” he sighed out following the merman all the same. Out to the balcony” I just love hearing you laugh” Harry said softly and caressed his cheek. Peter blushed and looked away and then back to Harry” Harry... I thought” he bit his bottom lip looking back to the party” I thought we talk about this....we are friends and I just....can’t ” he softly swam back and held his arms over his chest looking down. Peter knee Harry liked him, he knew that Harry was the best of the best but he wanted to keep Peter locked up, keep him hidden away and Peter didn’t want that. He wanted to see all of the sea and maybe some of the sky! Peter wanted adventure and fun. Harry wanted to play safe keep Peter insight always. Harry shook his head getting closer to Peter” I care about you Pete you know I do. But all you do is run” Peter bit his lip and let out a shaky breath” I care about you as a friend Harry I’m sorry” he whispered just as Harry went to say something Gwen and MJ tumbled out giggling and bumped into them” you to Koi fish so cute but you guys are missing the party!!” Gwen giggled and pulled Peter back inside. MJ looked to Harry giving a small smile and Harry sighed and with a sad smile went back to the party.

The night ended with a bang, a big one Peter was covered in seaweed confetti and sea glitter and giggling as he swam back to his room with Gwen” so your staying the night right” he turned swimming backward” I can go home if you want” the mermaid smirked at the gasping prince and swam over to his bed and plopped down as Peter closed the door and locked it” so......let’s sneak out” he turned to her and then swam over to his window and bit his lip” and go to the surface” Gwen gasped and fell off the bed” Peter!!!! What is wrong with you!!!” She yelled and Peter frown swimming over to her and covered her mouth” Stop yelling” he hissed whisper yelling” you owe me remember Sara” Peter smirked as the left his lips. Gwens went wide and then she glared at him” fine asshole” she pushed him away and grabbed the chair that sat at his vanity mirror and jammed it under the handle and looked the the prince” so what’s your crazy plan because this is crazy” she whispered.

Slipping out the window and into the court yard the two Mer-teens swam around. The young prince giggled and spun around” The night sea water is amazing I always wished about swimming through the oceans current” Gwen kept looking over her shoulder and sighed” great good wish granted now can we go back please Peter the king will kill us” she grumbled following after the carefree prince. Humming softly he ignored her plea and swam ahead anyway.”Don’t be a spoil sport Gwen I would have brought Harry along if I wanted a mood killer” Peter huffed. Giant booms could be heard muffled through the water. Jumping back Peters head snapped up to the surface. A ship sailed over the two the light of the moon casting as shadow over the pair as the boat inched along. “It’s a boat” Peter gasped in awe and bit his lip.” No no no! Peter are you crazy!” Gwen yelled after him as she let out a groaned and looked around then sped after the mer-prince.

Peter broke the surface, cold night air filled his lungs and he coughed a little. Gwen came up a few second after him hissing” we are so dead I swear I’m never sleeping over again” she whisper yelled. Peter just shook his head and made a face that said as if you don’t live fore this. The ship passed by them and Peter sighed in awe. bright colors started to explode in the air and the pair jumped and sunk underwater holding each other” What is that” Peter asked as he broke the waters surface again. Gwen shook her head and looked around” We should go Peter please!” Gwen pulled around his arm and bit her lip.

The water turned from a calm sea to aggressive and angry waves. Peter and Gwen got swept up in a wave being carried closer to shore than she had hoped for. The ship rocked back and forth the men on broad yelling and trying to hold. A wave slammed into the ship sending some of the men flying and falling into the sea. Peter and Gwen watched in horror as the men tried with everything they had to reach the surface. Then a blond man jumped into the sea and started pulling the men but to the surface and helping them on board. Gwen pulled at Peter trying to get him to leave, but Peter was transfixed, he watched the man save six men. Once the last of the men where out of the water the blond man started to climb the side of the ship. Once again the ship was slammed into as rain poured from the sky, the shock from the wave went the man flying, crashing into the water. The impact was so hard it knocked him out. Peter gasped and rushed to save the sinking man. Wrapping his hands arms around his middle pulling up.” Oh no no no we have to help him!!” Gwen bit her lip looking around”Peter you can’t!....I mean he’s just.....for the love of....” Gwen ran a hand down her face and grabbed at the man and help Peter pull him to the surface” Now what oh wise one” Peter glared at her and looks to the blond man between him the ship now long gone.” To shore” Peter pulled and Gwen followed begrudgingly.

( this is the first chapter please tell me if anything is wrong! This is my first time writing a fic I’m so scared of messing up hehe, also I write and post everything from my phone right now. Um I’m working on the second chapter now and it’s going to be from Wades point of view. No beta we die like men 😭 so any grammer error please tell me and I’ll try and go in and fix everything)

[tomhollandish]

Reticence

Reticence: /noun/- the quality of being reticent, of not revealing one's thoughts or feelings readily.

Summary: A request from @40212, reader has self esteem issues about herself, and Peter Parker decides to weigh in.

Word count:1,609

Warnings: some of the language in this fic is,,,personal to my own experience of being overweight. It’s not my feelings towards any other person other than myself.

You rolled over in bed, trying hard to combat the arms that clung to your waist. Small, pale and rough, Peter Parker’s nimble fingers had brushed underneath the fabric of your shirt, his touch setting flame to the skin beneath it.

Your hyperawareness of the whole situation made you sweat, despite the cracked window that let in the cool January air. You deftly picked up Peter’s hands and dropped them onto the mattress beside you, scooting your legs to the edge of the bed and stretching. Peter’s shirt (a Star Wars shirt, you could add,) raised up on your torso, the shorts underneath them have ridden up in the night, practically underwear the way they sat at the dip between your pelvis and thigh.

You frowned, surveying the various marks that decorated your skin—stretchmarks; their distorted colors running up the insides of your legs like arcs of lightning. They were so apparent, sitting in the dark lighting of Peter’s room. Further inside your legs were scratches, some faded, some new. Goosebumps prickled on your skin from the lack of warmth, and from the pang of disgust that went through your chest.

You sighed, picking yourself up and adjusting the shorts back on your body as you made your way to Peter’s bathroom. Flicking on the lights, your reflection came to life, making your scowl even deeper.

You poked and prodded at your chin, smoothening down the excess skin that collected around your neck, wondering how much prettier you’d be if your face was thin like MJ, or Liz Allen, or Gwen Stacy. Those girls with their prominent bones, whereas yours were hidden under layers of skin and fat.

Hands clutching the sink, you swayed, the weight of your thoughts slamming into you all at once now that you were awake. You wanted to go back to bed, back to Peter’s warm embrace, where his hands couldn’t fit all the way around your stupid, chunky waist and—

Silently, you closed the door and sat down on the toilet, trying to sort through your emotions. It was hard having the intrusive thoughts running around in your mind. Old ideas were more prevalent than others, the same phrases sticking out; how could anyone possibly fall for you, what does he see in you, why you?

Objectively speaking, all of the other girls Peter Parker had once dated or gushed about were much different than you. He was surrounded by pretty girls on a daily basis, their short skirts on their thin thighs looked straight out of a movie scene. Their long silky hair, curled and styled to perfection as they slid into their seats with grace and poise. The biggest question you’d ever asked was how Peter Parker, the boy with the most mesmerizing hazel eyes, and thick brown hair was glossed over.

And then there was you.

Fumbling into seats, making chairs grate across the floors when you scooted them back. Your hips checked every single table in its wake, and your skirts were always too long, making your legs look even stumpier.  You couldn’t wear what they wore, and even if you did it would not even look like the same garment.

And yet, Peter Parker, with his amazing smile and criminally long lashes, had asked you out.

Tears formed in your eyes as you looked at your bare legs, which covered the entire surface of the toilet seat. You couldn’t see one single centimeter of the white porcelain you sat on.

Your lips quivered, the feeling that bubbled in your chest too weighty to keep carrying. The deprication had been collecting up for so long that it finally brought you to tears. It spilled and spilled until your eyes ran dry, your lungs hollow as you tried to catch your breath. The moment was over, but your thoughts still lingered.

You stood up on shaky legs, going out of your way not to check your reflection in the mirror. No matter what you saw, you knew there was no way to make it better. You just had to prevent it from looking worse.

When you opened the door again, you found Peter sitting upright, his brows furrowed as he gazed upon your figure in confusion. Your breath hitched for a second, wondering if he could tell that you were distraught. You decided to play off your surprise, settling for a chuckle that was too nervous to be flirty.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” You tried not to wince what the hoarse voice you had, knowing there was only so much you could explain it with. Peter’s eyes seemed to narrow in suspicion, but he still didn’t say a word.

“Peter, are you okay?” Projection; always a good tactic. You came to his side and sat down, combing hair away from his face. He blinked at the sensation, before he grabbed your wrist with more force than you had expected. The grip was soft, more of a suggestion, really, but you froze none the less.

Perhaps Peter’s hands were larger than you gave credit for, because they were loose around your hands. Suddenly his gaze dropped, looking down at your exposed legs and short shorts. You shifted, feeling your cheeks burning as Peter stared at the appendages for so long. You felt his eyes travel up your torso, and then rake across you face.

The hand that gripped your wrist slowly slid to your palm, intertwining your fingers. Your fingers disappeared behind his, the long digits curing around your hand like a hug. His eyes fixed to it, and your heart started to beat faster.

“Peter,” you said, but it was shaky, uncertain. He hummed, as though he was examining an experiment. Picking them up to his lips, he set a chaste kiss to the back of your hand, before letting go and pressing feather light kisses up your arm.

Your chest burned, all the air in your lungs slowly being let out through your nose. Peter reached your neck, staring up in your eyes, searching for a sign of displeasure. He turned his head to the side and dipped down, lips on the crook of your jaw and you slumped forward, trembling slightly.

All thoughts in your head ceased, overthrown by the smell of Peter’s hair or hot hot your skin left against his lips. Completely floored by his actions, your eyes fluttered closed, feeling his warmth breath span across your throat as he moved to another spot. You tipped your head back, groaning at the sensation of teeth running down you jugular. Peter moved closer, his arms snaking around your waist. The touch is hard, his fingers beginning to dig into your flesh as he pulls you on you onto his lap.

You’re enveloped in warmth now, his chest pressed to yours and his lips nearing yours. When he doesn’t close the gap, you open your eyes to find his brilliant brown hues staring at your nose. His gaze flickers upwards, the intensity making your skin prickle.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked out of the blue, the words fanning over your mouth. You’re looking down at him in shock, almost going cross eyes trying to answer him. He pulls his face away, still moderately close. “Are you thinking about me?”

You swallowed, trying to calm the blood rushing in your ears. You became keenly aware of your heartbeat, thumping in your chest. “Yeah,” you finally replied, and he tapped his forehead against yours.

“I’m literally always thinking about you,” he confessed, but there was no smile across his lips. He was solemn, an expression you didn’t exactly like on him. “I’m wondering if what you’re doing, what you’re listening to, if you miss me. I’m wondering if you’re suffocating when you sleep with me, or if you’re too cold.” This produced a laugh out of you, and he finally curved his lips up, albeit sadly.

“I think about what you think of us; what you think of yourself.” He finally stated, and your eyes widened. He chuckled a little at your moony look, sliding his hands down to rest on your hips.

“I like you for you. I like everything about you, I don’t care what anyone else think. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, and I mean that,” he supplied, loosely putting his arms around your neck. “I think about you enough for the both of us. So don’t worry about any of that. Just focus on me, okay?”

It was smooth, too smooth to be spur of the moment. Your eyes began to water and you tucked your head into the crook of his neck. Peter steadied you, his arms squeezing you tight as he felt tears wet his shirt.

“Hey, it’s okay, hey,” he said, pushing your shoulders back so he could look you in the eye. You sniffed, trying to smile as brightly as you could in your emotional state.

“No, it’s just—“ you started, wondering if you could even finish. You looped your arms around his neck, playing with the little hairs on his nape. “That’s just the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

He frowned a little, but you pressed your lips to it. “Thank you.” You said, kissing him again.

“I-“ He looked as though he had something nor urgent to say, but he then sighed, a content smile racing his features. “I’m glad I could help.”

You giggled, crashing your lips to his and tumbling down onto the pillows. Your body could have crushed Peter’s, but you were weightless right now, floating on cloud nine as Peter Parker kissed you back into sleep.