#not awake? oop blanket gone

[mochalottie]

Headcanons Part 2!

Because you guys liked the others so much and I haven’t been able to write as much as I’d like today. Because your girl has choir tonight. Theme is for the dads, because I miss writing dad!Jake 🥺

Someone has done a meme of it but I completely agree that Jake is Chris Hemsworth at the beach with his kid: holding them by their foot behind his back as he shouts up to Neytiri that they’re fine it’s just a bit of headrush!

Tonowari is Robert Downey Jr sat on the beach towel with his kid cuddled to his chest completely content.

Jake is the kind of dad who wakes his kids by pulling back the blanket first, then turning on the lights/pulling back the tsurak cover, and then heaving the kid up by force.

But then he’s also the sort of dad that has the breakfast ready when the kids come downstairs.

Ronal and Tonowari takes turns cooking, and sometimes work as a team to prep main meal at the end of the day. Tonowari is better at peeling vegetables and Ronal usually handles the meat.

Tonowari likes calm afternoons showing his kids how to make nets or deep diving to find coral. Jake is one of those adventure dads who take the kids and Neytiri for a hike. Or a fly whichever takes his fancy.

Both Tonowari and Jake have a “sink or swim” mentality. The sort that if their kids turn up their noses at food they’d rebuke with “you won’t know until you try it!”

For birthdays, Tonowari would be the one to bring breakfast in bed, with homemade cake for the kid. Jake’s the sort of dad who wakes them up the same (blankets, shouting that it’s time to get up) but would then say that anything the birthday girl/boy says? Goes.

Aka: ice cream for dinner? Done. Skive off school? Did you even have to ask.

[kiss-inthekitchen]

same sky | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader

a late night phone call with Spencer. unruly amounts of fluff. no gender identifiers in this one. apologies to residents of las vegas, i did insult your city's aesthetics. i had to do it. for the plot

word count: 2k

notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3 by the same name. it's the second in a series of fics i've updated from my vault of oldies :) this one's for the girlies who liked the banter in no vacancy <3 oops! all banter

“I miss you,” you say into your cell phone, standing on the back porch and gazing out at the sky. It’s late, but you can’t sleep. Spencer has been gone on a case for the better part of a week, and you don’t sleep as well without him. 

“I miss you, too. But I’ll be home soon,” Spencer replies, keeping his voice low.  

“Is everyone else asleep?”

“Yeah. It’s been a long day.”

“Where are you right now?” Even though you aren’t in danger of waking anyone up, you find yourself mirroring Spencer's tone. 

“Best guess, somewhere over New Mexico.” They’ve been in the air about an hour, and given their trajectory, he’s pretty sure he’s right. Spencer is seated at the edge of the couch, his back against the arm of it and a blanket thrown over his legs, barely covering his mismatching-socked feet. 

“How come you’re still up?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says. Somehow, he can feel you smiling across the line. It makes him smile, too. He doesn’t ask why you’re awake when it’s even later where you are; he knows already. "What are you doing?”

“Looking up at the stars.”

“You know, you won’t be able to see me up here.”

“Ha ha.”

“Here, I’ll open the shade on the plane window. At least we can share the same view.”

“Hm. Almost like we’re together,” you hum. 

His heart aches. It’s only been a few days and he still can’t stand it. “Almost.”

For a minute, neither of you speak, looking out at the sky from two different time zones.

“When I wake up tomorrow morning, you’ll be here, right?” 

“Mmhm. Maybe even before that,” he responds, a low, soothing hum in your ear.

“Should I stay up until you get here?” you already know what he'll say, but you kinda like the idea of it anyway.

“No, no, it’s at least another four hours. Don’t worry about it. When you wake up, I’ll be there.”

“Sounds good. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You’d intended to let him go after just a quick call once you realized that the rest of the team were resting not too far from him, but you don’t want to hang up. He doesn’t make any moves to do so either, wanting to hear your voice as much as you want to hear his. “So, how was Tucson?”

“Oh, you know. Hot. Desert-y. Lots of murder.”

“Less murder now.” 

“Yeah.” 

His voice sounds strained. He doesn’t like indulging in a sense of accomplishment after closing a case, doesn’t ever feel like he’s done enough. He shows up too late and does too little, and then he gets to leave while the families of the victims have to pick up the pieces. You understand why he doesn’t like to think about the work that way, but you’ve tried to remind him that the good he does is incalculable; how many lives saved, how many tragedies avoided. It’s all you can do. 

You pivot a little, not wanting him to get too caught up. “I remember, when I first moved to Virginia, I was so shocked at how green everything was. I swore I’d never seen that much green in my life.”

“I had a similar experience,” he says, fondly, aware of your tactics. 

“Oh, I can only imagine. I’ve been to Vegas. It’s icky.”

“Icky?” he asks, laughing at your word choice. 

“I mean, no offense, but… it’s kinda ugly.”

“Wow, okay, insult my hometown, why don’t you.”

You laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re right.”

“I know,” you sigh. “Always am.”

“Well, statistically, you actually have a seventy-two percent chance of being right, which is still impressive, but hardly a flawless track record.”

“Spencer Reid coming in hot with the stats. I love when you talk numbers to me.” 

“I don’t think we’d have gotten very far if you didn’t.” 

“But I think I should be right more often than that.” 

“Are you asking me to fudge the numbers?” he asks with put-upon shock. 

“I’m just saying, maybe you’ve got it wrong.” 

“Oh, so you dare to challenge the accuracy of my eidetic memory? Or is it the statistics that you think I’ve calculated incorrectly?” 

“This is affecting my score, isn’t it?” 

“I’ll have to factor it in. You understand.” 

You giggle, and Spencer starts to feel some warmth come back into him after too many days of stress, doubt, and destruction. He hadn’t been able to talk to you nearly as much as he wanted. And it was hard to talk to you on certain cases, to allow you to make him feel lighter when reality was so dark. When he felt so much weight on his shoulders, when he should be focusing on the profile and apprehending the unsub and… sometimes he just didn’t feel like he deserved to have that weight lifted by you, even for a little while. 

“Spence?” 

“Will you go inside?” he asks, his tone full of something like reverence for you. “Please?”

“If you insist,” you sigh, already opening the door. 

“I do. I do insist, very forcefully.” 

“I’m already inside with the door locked.” 

“Man, I’m good.” 

“Mmhm.”

“Going to bed?”

“Yeah. Will you talk to me for a few more minutes?” you ask, sliding under the covers. Spencer hears the slip of fabric as you pull them up over your shoulders, and it sharpens the ache he feels to be home with you already. 

“I’ll talk to you for the rest of the night, if you want me to.” 

“No, I don’t wanna keep you awake, too.” 

“I probably won’t get much sleep regardless.” 

“I don’t condone that,” you say, your frown evident in your voice. 

“Noted,” he replies, though he sounds apologetic. 

Four hours feels an eternity too long to wait. You miss Spencer, and you hate how tired he sounds. You want to fix things for him. You want to run your fingers through his hair til he falls asleep and you want to make sure his dreams are peaceful when he does. 

“What do you wanna do when you’re back?” you ask, hoping that planning for it will make the time go faster. 

“Oh, I’m taking a shower and getting right into bed. And you can’t make me get up.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m serious. Don’t ask me to do a single other thing cause I won’t do it.” 

You laugh. “For the whole day?” 

“Probably. And you better not go anywhere either. We could both use the rest.” 

“Okay, rest day all day.” 

“We can order Thai though. So we’ll get up for that. But even then, it’s just to sit on the couch.” 

“Maybe the floor.” 

“I will also accept floor,” he concedes, and then it occurs to him that you might’ve been asking because you want to do something with him. “Is there something you wanted to do the next day though?” 

“Well... the saucer magnolias are blooming at the Smithsonian again.” 

“Say no more.” 

You sigh wistfully. “You’re my favorite boyfriend I’ve ever had.” 

“Well, I should hope so,” he says, smiling. “You’re my favorite, too.” 

“Aren’t I the only partner you’ve ever had?” 

“Ha ha. I had a girlfriend in college.” 

“Spencer, you were like sixteen in college.”

“I wasn’t sixteen the entire time,” you hear the eye roll in his voice, “I have three PhD’s, it took me a little while.” 

“Well, who is this girl? Do I need to beat her up?” you joke. 

“No,” he laughs. “You are my favorite, after all. She wasn’t very nice to me.” 

“Okay… so you told me not to beat her up but then gave a reason why I should?” 

“Please don’t beat up my ex-girlfriend. I do appreciate your violent impulses though.” 

“Mm, okay. As long as you know I could.” 

“Sure, angel. You’re very scary,” he placates. 

You let out a little gremlin laugh. 

“Oh, and you’re delirious,” he notes, an amused lilt to his tone. 

“Delirious because I miss you,” you sing, dragging out the ‘you’. 

“God, where did I even find a weirdo like you,” Spencer laughs. 

“I found you. You attracted me with your peculiar aura and soulful eyes. Trapped me in your… fucking what’s-it-called. Tractor beam.” 

“You know, the term tractor beam was actually coined by science fiction author E.E. Smith in 1931 as an updated version of his original term ‘attractor beam.’” 

“Hmm, yup. You caught me in that.” 

“Did you call my eyes soulful?” he asks, seemingly just processing that part. 

“Oh, you don’t like my adjective choice? Next you’ll have a problem with me calling your aura peculiar.” 

“I mean… I don’t know that I loved it.” 

“Here he goes fishing for compliments,” you sigh, rolling over to your other side and creating a bunch of shuffling noise on the line. Spencer wrinkles his nose, holding the phone a little farther from his ear until he hears you speaking again. “Okay, your eyes are big and brown and beautiful and they contain a standard unremarkable amount of soul, and your aura is also really regular. Regular Reid, that’s what they call ya.” 

He’s frowning, you can practically see it, but he’s also fighting off an amused smile. “Well, that one started off nice, at least.” 

“God! You’re so difficult. My boyfriend is sooo difficult. Why don’t you come home to me first and then I’ll come up with some more adequate compliments?” 

“I’m going to hold you to that.” 

The two of you talk for a little while longer, with you telling Spencer about the new coffee shop you’d tried out and how their lavender latte actually tastes like lavender, which is basically unheard of. Spencer tells you about the standoff between him and an all too curious roadrunner that he swears was trying to get into his motel room. Calling it a standoff is generous; the man got bullied by a bird. 

You try not to laugh and end up unsuccessful, with Spencer insisting that you were taking sides and he was well and truly in danger, which only makes it funnier. His voice pitches up even as he tries to keep his volume low, and you argue that his energy is just so attractive that even the local wildlife are drawn to him. 

“Don’t start,” he warns, overwhelming fondness in his voice. 

You make Spencer tell you something boring to calm yourself down from the image you’ve conjured of him being chased by a roadrunner, which, in your exhausted state, is even funnier than it should be. He claims to regret confiding in you with this, but he knows he’d do it again just to hear you laugh. 

Instead of telling you something boring, he recites some of the poems he’s memorized over the years. It works the way you’d intended, and you regret it when you have to stop him to tell him you’re falling asleep. He’s just a little smug about it. 

“So, you’ll be home in four hours?” you ask, the start of your goodbyes. 

“More like three now.”

“We made time go faster.” 

“We did.” 

“Will you try to get some sleep?”

“Fine. Only because you asked.”

You hum, victorious. “Goodnight. I love you.” 

“And I love you.” 

Hours later, just as the sun is beginning to change the hue of the sky from deep navy to a hazy cerulean glow, you feel your mattress shift underneath you. You’re barely awake, but still you register the scent of Spencer’s shower gel, fresh and sort of woodsy. 

Half asleep, you shift to accommodate him, and he slips an arm around you as you lay your head on his chest. You wrap an arm around his torso and throw your leg over his hips, as close as you can possibly get without literally being on top of him. 

You sigh, deep and relieved, and Spencer’s heart stutters. 

“I missed this,” he chuckles, resting his cheek against the top of your head and wrapping his arms tighter around you. You just hum in response, the last of your energy before you’re pulled back under. Within minutes, Spencer is asleep too, and the two of you sleep through sunrise and into the afternoon. 

[cocoreallylovesraiden]

How MK1 characters sleep with their S/O (liu kang, bi han, kung lao, raiden, shang tsung)

This is very casual and nonsensical but pointless useless headcanons give me life sorry; I might do this for other characters but idk which oops

Liu Kang

- I am in-between the idea of him needing sleep at all (being a god and all), but either way I think he would be in bed with them to spend time together.

- Mattress hard like a rock, so you’d be better off laying on top of him for any kind of soft squishy comfort.

- Likes the physical pressure on being laid on, would secure you in place with a hand on the small of your back, or cradling you closer if you lay your head in his chest.

- During the summer months he would be too hot to comfortably lay on, so either he just longingly stares at you back (rip) or holds your hand in the middle of the bed.

- Wakes up/ gets out of bed at the asscrack of dawn and folds the spare blanket next to you so its like he’s still there… and then becomes annoyed that you’d rather cuddle the blanket than wake up and see him.

- Laughs at you when you want to buy more western soft pillows or fluffy blankets, but he gets them anyways and then now HE can’t sleep bc it’s weirdly soft.

- Will read as you sleep in his arms, and has resorted to using your unconscious elbows to flip the page bc his hands are being held hostage.

- Likes to watch you as you sleep and tries not to smile when you twitch from a dream, even when you drool onto the pillows; is content to do so until sunrise.

- Sometimes tho in the middle of the night when you roll over you just see two military grade flashlight beacons glowing in the dark staring at you like an eldritch monster.

- “Hello, dearest 😊.”

- He says, like you didn’t almost piss the bed in fear.

Bi Han

- Has a meticulous string of tasks and duties he must fulfil before he can even think of getting into bed, and he still manages to be under the covers same time every night.

- Becomes VERY cranky if you are not in bed with him within 15 minutes and when you eventually settle into bed, his back is turned towards you and he huffs like a dramatic housewife.

- Self-assigned big spoon (non-negotiable) and loves resting his face in the crook of your neck, his favourite way to rest after a long day. He isn’t the best with words (in terms of emotional vulnerability) and uses little actions to let you know how he feels.

- His hair gets EVERYWHERE. It’s in his mouth. It’s in YOUR mouth. If you have long hair, have fun waking up 20 minutes earlier to sleepily untangle your newfound spiderweb of human hair.

- Doesn’t toss and turn and is a very light sleeper- it’s required of his job. At the smallest sound his eyes are open, and he cannot rest until he’s gone and checked the locks and such.

- You know when Asian dads wake up at 4am and just go hack and cough in the bathroom yeah that’s him… that’s how YOU wake up.

- You both look like hot fucking garbage in the morning it constantly looks you both are two struggling new parents who had a metaphorical baby keeping them up all night.

- Debates smothering you with a pillow if you snore and keep him up before a busy day.

Kung Lao

- I hope you’re a heavy sleeper.

- His snoring sounds like sails ripping, it’s so loud he scares himself awake sometimes.

- “BABE WHAT WAS THAT?”

- You girl….

- Doesn’t matter what season it is, what temperate, you two are always still too hot and on the verge of breaking into sweat, even after you’re dressed down to just underwear.

- Maybe you fall asleep a safe distance away from him, but halfway through the night its like looking an abstract painting of human limbs, his foot is on your stomach and your face is smashed against his knees. Chiropractors are scared of you two.

- You both complain about how annoying the other person is to sleep next to, but can’t sleep alone at night- the bed feels too big or too cold.

- It’s like when you wake up from a nap not knowing what country you’re in, drenched in sweat and covered in those red lines but every morning.

- Talks in his sleep and you have several videos in your camera roll having incoherent conversations with sleepy Lao.

- “Hey baby… Are you asleep?” “Not now babe imgndh tm running for presdidentnt”

- Yeah king you do that!

- He SWEARS that he’s a big spoon but likes being the little tiny eeny weeny teaspoon looks at you with the ugly goo goo gaga eyes until you relent and wrap your arms around his waist.

Raiden

- I don’t care unless it’s past a certain time in your relationship he will sleep on the couch or DIE

- He is traditional to an almost irritating extent YOU WILL NOT DIE IF YOU SEE MY UPPER THIGH OH MY GOD

- But let me tell you once y’all do share a sleeping space its over for you… He uses that farmer strength to squeeze the life out of you. Like Kung Lao where you fall asleep laying next to him and wake up in the alligator death roll fighting to breathe.

- Death by beefy man arms sounds great until you need to pee and have to scrap at 6am against an unconscious man (he is winning).

- Likes it when you nuzzle under his chin, but when he’s really tired, he really just wants to lay on your chest and have you smooth his hair.

- Feels a certain need to be the Bigger Strong Man but secretly wants to be cuddled and babied a little, just doesn’t want to ask for it.

- Doesn’t matter because however you sleep, you’re waking up to that child-holding-their-favourite-teddy-bear GRIP.

- Likes to chat about both your days before falling asleep, and will verbally ask like “are you asleep?” And then stop moving, breathing, thinking because he’s scared to wake you up. You have to smack his face half-awake like RAIDEN YOU CAN BREATHE before he relaxes.

Shang Tsung

- Idgaf if he’s a man and if you’re a woman, he is the girlfriend.

- Wants you to kiss the top of his head and stroke his hair, you can feel his ugly ass smug smile against your skin the entire time.

- Even if he does love you, I can see him being unable to sleep with his back turned to you; he has to be acutely away of what you’re doing (sleeping. Your tired ass is sleeping.)

- Unless of course he’s being the little spoon. Rolling eyes emoji.

- Another very light sleeper, but when he’s deep in sleep he has reoccurring night terrors, and maybe even sleep paralysis, so he clutches you tightly like he’s scared you’ll up and leave him.

- When he wakes up he’s probably frozen, so he grounds himself by listening to your heartbeat or readjusting your hold so it’s tighter and more compressing.

- Doesn’t matter if it’s a big ass bed or stack of pelts on the forest floor, you are not allowed to move a SINGLE INCH away from him. You two occupy 25% of this bed’s real estate.

- If he wakes up first, he is slipping out without a word. If you wake up first and god forbid, try to let him go, his eyes are snapping open and looking at you so judgementally.

- Throws your boots at you if you oversleep like. Wake up you Lug. We have things to do.

- Looks amazing the moment he wakes up and makes fun of you for having bed hair and overall being uglier than he is.

- Pokes your cheek and makes your head loll about if he wakes up first and chuckles at how cute he finds it, catches himself being mushy, then pinches your nose so you wake up.

[justastraymoa]

Unwilling Alpha

Chapter 18

WC 3,486

Masterlist

Warnings ⚠️ swears, abo dynamics, mentions of slave trade, mentions of rape, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, fear, manipulation. Falls injury but not severe, hospital, xray, cat scans, I am not a medical professional so ignore any oopsies when it comes to that.

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□

Half asleep still and confused I felt around the bed. Cold. It had been a while since they left. The confusion quickly led to panic as I sat up, now completely awake and aware. There was nothing in the room besides my few items left out. Nothing to indicate that they were here or were coming back.

Snatching my phone off the nightstand, I looked at the time. Almost lunch. And a text notification. I opened my messages.

I sighed out the panic that had crawled into my chest. The irrational thought of them abandoning me is gone now. I sent a quick text to my bodyguard group chat and swung my legs out of my warm blankets.

Since it was just me, I was allowed to drive myself for the first time. It had been so long since I drove, I was actually nervous to get behind the wheel again, but also giddy. So, with coffee in hand I set the GPS and headed to my boys.

The first thing I did was accidentally pull out in front of someone. I grimaced and waved in apology as they lay on their horn and yelled at me, gesturing wildly. Oops.

I did make it to the arena in one piece eventually. The roads in Melbourne were confusing as hell, even with GPS giving me step my step instructions. I made multiple wrong turns and got lost several more times.

Now, standing in the shadow of the massive arena, I was intimidated. And lost again. I wasn’t sure where to go in at or if they would even let me in. What if security didn’t know who I was?

What would I do then? The boys won’t be able to check their phones very often, I’m sure. And they won’t want to hold up or skip practice for me. They didn’t have a lot of time before the concert to prepare. And this mini tour was kind of a rapid tour as well. To reestablish themselves and assure everyone that they weren’t disbanding.

Maybe I should go back to my hotel room and hang out there for the day. I would be less of a nuisance there and my Omegas will be too busy to feel the separation.

Minjun shoved me gently from behind. “They are expecting you.” He spoke. It was like he was reading my mind and knew I was thinking of leaving. Like he knew my insecurities. Maybe he did. Maybe they were all over my face. Who knows, but I did follow his gesture to a metal set of doors that opened easily when I tested the handle.

The group was working on the spacing for Social Path. Music stopping and starting again as Lino adjusted something, then tried it out.

They were all so focused, they didn’t notice my arrival, but I felt 3x lighter just seeing them. Being close to them again. Even if I itched to reestablish contact too. Seeing them would have to be enough for now. I wasn’t going to disrupt their rhythm and flow.

Instead, I found a stadium seat and started to get my camera all set up. I may miss taking pictures of anything but my Omegas, and the various studios we ended up in, but I wasn’t about to stop taking those photos either. Each new experience with my boys would be immortalized on “film”. Hard copies of our memories together.

Getting the lighting right turned out to be impossible. The lighting crew was testing the lights, so it changed constantly. Being too dark here, then too light. The white balance completely off every time. But this was a challenge I liked. In my photography element and actually knowing what I was doing for the first time in what felt like a long time.

I dodged all the staff buzzing about. Frantically getting things set up for the show. Instead I stayed tucked in little nooks and crannies. Hiding in the spaces no one needed to use.

Binnie spotted me first. “Y/n!” He shouted, hands in the air and running toward me in baby. “You’re here!” He was entirely too loud, voice seeming to echo around the empty arena.

Matching his energy, I reached out to him from right next to the stage. “I am here!” I screamed back.

We awkwardly hugged from the drastically different levels. This stage was at my nose, nearly taller than I was. Even from an odd angle, Bin somehow managed to pull me up onto the stage with minimal effort. It was impressive.

“That was kind of hot, Bin, but I don’t want to get in the way of practice.” I patted his pink cheeks, ignoring the slight dampness left on my hand from sweat.

Ayen leapt onto my back, hanging on for a piggyback ride. I held his slight weight easily. I had held cameras that weighed more, honestly. “You won’t get in the way. Besides, you will get better pictures up here.” He nuzzled his nose behind my ear as he talked.

The rest joined us reconnecting with me by brief touches and not-so-subtle sniffs of my scent. Seungmin kissed my cheek and tweaked my chin gently. Lino patted my ass, looking a mixture of annoyed and tired, but I knew it wasn’t directed at me. He smelled stressed out. I wanted to help him destress, but I knew there was nothing I could do right now. Stress was part of life for them-for all of us now.

“Did you sleep okay after we left?” Seungmin asked. I nodded with a smile. “No nightmares?” He gave me a look warning me not to lie. I shook my head, confirming firmly that I had had no nightmares this morning. “Good.” Seungmin looked pleased and satisfied.

I was oddly proud and happy that I would make him so happy so easily. My metaphorical Alpha tail was wagging, and I hummed with a bright smile.

“Did you get here okay? I made sure to tell security to look out for you so they could tell you where to go.” Channie explained.

“Thankfully, Minjun seemed to know where to go so I got here just fine, thank you. Little rusty on driving though.” I pointed out. I needed to make a pint to drive regularly. Even if it’s just quick trips. There wouldn’t always be drivers to chauffeur us everywhere. And most of the boys had their licenses, but I couldn’t always be a passenger princess. I would go insane. Besides, I like driving. Its meditative. Especially long car rides alone. Nothing but you, the car, the road, and a good playlist as you lost yourself in your thoughts.

“Glad you made it. C’mon, back to work. Ayen, get down.” Lino clapped and ushered everyone back to where they needed to be.

Ayen pouted but slid off my back. I snapped a quick photo of his cute pouting face. Lower lip jutting out and eyes all big and watery. It was just so adorable, even if it did manage to pull at my heartstrings.

They got back to work, and I went back to snapping photos. Ayen was right, the photos were better from up here. And I felt on top of the world. Even with the seats empty it felt like I was the center of attention. It was oddly intimidating.

I was crouched at the very back of the stage, getting pictures of the boys and the arena when it happened. One second Binne and Lino were dancing next to each other-the next there was a loud clank, and the stage floor disappeared under them, sucking them in. It all happened in a single breath and my heart stopped.

Tossing everything aside I sprinted to the hole and my Omegas, who were possibly hurt. “Binnie! Lino!” I screamed as I slid to a stop at the edge of the hole.

A large group of people had all run over to help as well. I sobbed as I looked and saw my Omegas at the bottom of the hole, but moving slowly and carefully. Lino had landed mostly on top of Bin. “Don’t move! Are you okay?” I angrily swiped the tears clouding my vision so I could see my boys.

Ignoring Chan trying to stop me, I jumped down into the hole with Bin and Lino, desperately feeling at them for injuries.

Lino rolled off Bin carefully and they both groaned. “I’m okay, Alpha. Just bruised and shaken.” He promised squeezing my searching fingers.

Bin was a different story. He was cradling his left arm. My hands fluttered over it, looking for a visible injury. “Bin, your arm!” I sniffed.

“I’m okay.” He groaned unconvincingly. “I’m okay, Alpha, I promise. I just hit my head and hurt my arm.” He was careful not to move though.

“Is your arm broken?” Lino asked.

Bin shook his head. “Just a sprain I think.”

There were several people approaching from behind us, from another way under the stage. They were dragging stuff with them.

I spun and growled deep in my chest, warning the strangers not to come any closer to my injured Omegas. The strangers were dangerous and far too close for my liking, making me growl even louder. They weren’t getting to my Omegas; I wouldn’t let them!

The strangers paused, some even looking down and backing away a few steps. The one in front held out a hand, making me growl louder and crouch, ready to attack and defend my injured Omegas.

Bin and Linos’ scents got stronger as they tried to calm me down. I shook it off and focused on the strangers. There was danger here, I needed to be on guard and ready.

Carefully Lino slid a hand over my bicep and moved closer to me-sending more calming scent my way. “Alpha, we are okay. They only want to help.” He spoke slowly, quietly, and gently, avoiding my eyes and almost nuzzling into my neck. “Please let them help.” He begged.

Between the scents and Linos’s touch, I was coming back to myself just enough to recognize the strangers as EMTs. Here to treat injuries. Bin hit his head and hurt his arm. He needed them. They were trained for treating injuries, I was not. I couldn’t help him like they could, but I could let them help him.

I looked at the group of EMTs, struggling against every cell in my body that wanted to give in to my roaring instincts to guard and protect. There were five of them. Too many. “One.” I growled out. I wasn’t able to stop the warning growl completely, not yet. I was still too worked up. But I could handle one of them near my Omegas. I would just watch them very closely.

The EMT in front nodded in agreement and turned to the others to get supplies. I pulled Lino around so I could keep both him and Bin in sight as they were looked over. I was crouched over Bins legs, focused entirely on what was happening.

“Lino, what’s going on?” Chan asked from above us.

Lino was keeping one hand on me to try and keep me grounded. I was thankful for the contact. With my Omega injured, my Alpha instincts were far too close to the surface for me to be able to think straight. I was too raw with worry and fear.

“We are fine. The EMT is going to check us out.” He was being carefully vague on the details in case anyone with bad intentions was listening. Or a camera was recording.

Both Binnie and Lino were still pumpi9ng out calming chemo signals for me, even though they were the injured ones. And I was coming back enough to my senses to recognize them trying to care for me now.

There was a slight commotion above us as the others cleared away anyone not needed so we had privacy. And less people around made me feel better, calmer. More in control of the situation, which also made Lino and Binnie relax.

I took a deep breath to center myself. Me acting like this was only causing my Omegas to stress more. I needed to be calm and in control for them.

The EMT approached slowly, heading to Bin first, since he was the more injured party. Now faking calmness until I could be alone to let my swirling emotions go, I let the Beta approach without even a warning growl. I placed a hand on Binnies thigh, so he knew I was still here for him. I felt his muscles relax under my touch.

The EMT worked slowly, but efficiently. Explaining everything he was going to do before he did it. This was more for my benefit than Bins or Linos. Just like doing the initial checks in the dark under stage area was mostly for my benefit.

Lino checked out okay. Landing on Bin helped save him from injuries. Bin needed an x-ray and CAT scan at the hospital. Which meant either letting Bin out of my sight, or the rest of my Omegas and I really didn’t want to do either.

Bin kept hold of my hand with his uninjured one as we made our way out from under the stage, and he was strapped to a gurney. Lino kept his hand on my lower back. Chan and the others met us at the ambulance.

“Chan, I can’t – he’s hurt.” I struggled to explain why I couldn’t leave Bin, but I knew he would understand, as a leader himself.

Chan nodded and patted my hair. “Go in the ambulance, we will follow. We’ll be right behind you.” He promised.

“His Alphas riding along, make room.” The EMT who looked them over announced to the other in the ambulance.

They must have some kind of training in this because they all jumped into action to make room for me without question or complaint. Giving me the spot closest to him and not trying to separate our linked hands even once. Hyun helped me climb into the vehicle without one handed and the doors closed behind me.

My hurt Omega squeezed my trembling fingers. “I’m okay, Bun.” He whispered with a soft smile as the people around us worked. I kept my focus on him and not the many – too many – people around us.

I shook my head. “You don’t know that. You need tests.” I swallowed and fought to keep my emotions reined in. Now was not the time to let them out.

“That’s just a precaution. I barely even have a headache.”

“It’s a miracle you aren’t more injured! You had a whole person land on you!” It really was a crazy that he didn’t have broken ribs or ruptured organs.

Bin laughed. “We know how to fall to minimize injuries.”

“You shouldn’t have fallen to begin with! Why wasn’t that door properly secured?”

Bin shrugged. “Accidents happen.”

I hummed. I will ask the stage manager later what happened and who was responsible. This carelessness could have caused a serious injury! Someone needed to answer for this, and steps needed to be taken to prevent it from happening ever again.

At the hospital I was allowed as far as the radiation room door. So with a final squeeze and a kiss to his hairline I reluctantly let them take Bin away. Every part of me screaming against it. Against having him out of my sight and out of reach.

I paced just outside the door, listening in case he called for me. I really wanted to take this moment alone to let go. To let myself feel all the emotions I locked up to take proper care of my Omegas. But I was still in public. If someone caught it and my freakout got out it would damage Stray Kids’ reputation. And the scent may leak through the door to Binnie too, making him stressed again. I would have to wait until I was alone for real. Back at the hotel later, safe in my room later tonight.

It felt like Binnie was in radiation for hours before the door finally opened and he was wheeled out, now in a different bed and not the ambulance gurney. As soon as the door opened his eyes were searching for me, hand reaching for me as soon as he saw me.

He was given a large private room where the others were already waiting for us. Without letting go of Bin I reached for Lino, reassuring myself that he was still okay. He let me fuss with a nod of reassurance.

“What did they say, Bin?” I asked turning to tuck him into the hospital bed, careful of his arm and head. He now had an IV in one arm that I hadn’t noticed before with a bag of saline attached to it. “Did they give you anything?” I hadn’t even given him time to answer the first question yet, but the IV distracted me.

“They are waiting for results. And they gave me some pain meds. Nothing too strong.” He answered.

I felt my lips twist, but I kept my thoughts to myself. It didn’t sit right with me that they have my Omega something without telling me, before or after. I had to find out on my own. But he is a grown man and didn’t need my permission. I didn’t own him. It still felt like a betrayal of trust though.

Instead, I focused on fussing over him now. Adding another blanket and fluffing his pillow. I filled his hospital provided cup with ice water and added a straw before handing it to him, watching as he drank a few sips before placing it on the bed table for him.

“Y/N? Felix gently asked, quiet in his concern.

I shook my head. “I’m okay.”

But Bin caught my sleeve. “I’m sorry. I should have had them wait to give me anything.”

“No. You were in pain. And I am not your master.”

“No, you are my Alpha.”

The doctor came in then, in his traditional pristine white coat, carrying a file folder and a clipboard. One or both containing the results from Bins tests.

Thirty minutes of technical doctor mumbo jumbo later and Bin was given a sort of clean bill of health. The cleanest and best we could hope for at least. Bad sprain, impressive bruising, but no concussion or other head injuries. No internal injuries either. He was cleared to continue the concert after resting the rest of today.

The doctors and nurses seemed to ignore my existence until it came time to fill out paperwork. I stared blankly at the offered clipboard as everyone watched and waited.

“He can’t sign himself out of the hospital?” I asked dumbfounded.

The nurse shifted, uncomfortable. “Claimed Omegas need to have their Alpha or Beta sign the paperwork before they can be released.” He explained.

“What if he wasn’t claimed?”

“Then he could sign himself out.”

“That’s the dumbest think I’ve ever heard.” I snatched the clipboard from him and without breaking eye contact, I handed it right to Bin. “He doesn’t need my permission to leave the hospital.”

The nurse pursed his lips in disapproval but accepted the singed paperwork from Bin.

As Hyunjin and Ayen helped Bin get ready to go, Seungmin approached me hesitantly, hiding something behind his back. “What is it, Min?” I was getting nervous, still too on edge.

He brought my camera out from behind him. In all the chaos I had forgotten all about it. When did I set it down?

“We found it on our way to the cars. The lens is broken out and some buttons are missing.” He handed me the camera gently. The lens was completely missing and the casing had cracks. I must have dropped it when my Omegas fell. I never even registered it. “I’m so sorry.”

I opened a hatch on the side and popped out an unharmed memory card. “The memory card isn’t damaged. The pictures are fine. Ill just replace the camera. It’s fine. Thank you, Min.” I was sad to lose the camera. I had cherished it for many years now, but I am more focused on my Omegas right now. They were what was important.

Chan rubbed my back. “We will find a place to fix it.” He promised. I just nodded and smiled at him. There were so few places out there that could fix it, and they were expensive. It would be cheaper to replace it entirely. But I didn’t feel like talking about it now. Now I wanted to get my Omegas back to the hotel and resting properly. I wanted to get back to my hotel room and finally let go so I could properly care for them with a clear head and steady emotions.

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General Taglist @stellasays45 @beebee18 @weird-bookworm @velvetmoonlght

Unwilling Alpha Taglist: @xxeiraxx @hanniemylovelyquokka @breadedloafs @songleepark @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @hyunjinhoexxx @kayleefriedchicken @vietjeb @hityoulikebahng @juju-227592 @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @royal-shinigami @bangchansfavoritenoona @straykidslvr @bookswillfindyouaway @h0rnyp0t @Svmmerstime @jennibahng @kpopandmusicpassion @jasmin-loves-k-pop @cookey-lock @possum-playground @demigoddreamon-blog @rei-reia @dreamerwasfound @jasmin-loves-k-pop @ms-flowergirl @princess-sunshyn @technicallyimportantsweets @mbioooo0000 @jisungs-iced-americano @bluesoobinnie @threeopossumsinacoat @kkamismom12

[we-stan-the-stans-27]

Sleeping Beauty AU?

@sixerstanley Here had this HUGE big brain idea and I immediately sprung into action to write a little something about it.

Basically, they read a merlin fic where a spell made it seem like Merlin was dead, but he was basically asleep and aware of everything going on. Arthur was not having a good time. (trauma and pain ensues) I'm going to replicate it, based on the idea alone.

(Also, I had no idea this would turn into an almost 4k oneshot, oops! Color me inspired, I guess! I can do this, but not my actual fan fiction. LMAO!)

Suffer with me. (JK, enjoy. XD )

For the first time in weeks, Ford had allowed himself a full night's rest downstairs. Why not reward himself, just this once? The rift is sealed, the universe is safe, and things are slowly getting back to normal. Or as normal as they get in the pathetic excuse for what used to be his home.

Ford still has a hard time calling it what it is, 'The Mystery Shack' is a little on the nose, isn't it? The exhibits are hardly anything close to a mystery. They're botched taxidermy projects.

Insults. That's what they are.

A slap in the face to his life's work.

Whatever, that's not his problem right now. Coffee is the first order of business.

It's early and no one else is awake, but the coffee pot is still hot with a fresh pot. One cup appears to be missing. Stanley must be awake then.

Ford takes his time pouring the life-bringing liquid into his favorite cup (it is amazing Stanley didn't break it or lose it after all these years) and adding in ample sugar, and a dash of cream for color.

He adds a single ice cube to cool it faster, listening to the sounds of the house. It's silent, too quiet.

Ford can't help that even in a peaceful environment it puts him on edge.

The TV is off and a walk through the living room reveals Stanley isn't sitting on the couch. The first-floor bathroom light is off, door is slightly ajar, but empty.

That's weird.

He really shouldn't be looking for his brother anyway since the only good that will do is start another fight. It's too early for that.

Ford settles back in the kitchen, hovering near the window and sipping his cup watching the clock on the wall tic on. Minutes pass.

The silence is no longer just putting him on edge, it's sounding alarms.

Why? There is nothing dangerous here in the house, they are perfectly safe here now that Bill has been dealt with.

What then?

To put his own stupid mind to rest he leaves the empty cup in the sink and goes upstairs to the attic, checking on Dipper and Mabel.

They are both still fast asleep in their beds. Dipper, drooling on his pillow with half the blanket on the floor. Mabel, hair stuck up in all directions, clutching one of her many stuffed animals like it might try to escape.

Waddles is here too, curled up on its makeshift bed on the floor.

He stays just long enough to ensure they are all breathing, and sleeping soundly, before noiselessly going back downstairs.

The second floor is as empty as the first, including Stanley's poor excuse for a room. It is a mess of half-packed boxes, several trash bags, and the always-unmade bed.

Soon enough the house will be normal again.

Stanley will be gone, the kids will go home- (Perhaps they'll visit again next summer? It's a shame Dipper can't stay) and the Mystery Shack business will be over forever.

This once secluded corner of the valley will be that way again, his haven away from prying eyes. And tourists.

With the interior of the house cleared that only leaves the yard and porch.

Ford makes his way out onto the one Stanley finds the most use out of and the worry he hadn't realized to be carrying vanishes. There he is, sitting back dead asleep on the disgusting couch. How old is that thing? It appears to be growing several kinds of mold along the bottom because of the constant rain this region gets.

One hand is barely holding onto Stan's coffee cup, the arm of the couch holding it up while its owner sleeps.

"Seriously, Stanley? Being old doesn't give you an excuse to sleep anywhere, much less flash the local wildlife in little more than boxers." It's a good dig, in his opinion, and he speaks loud enough to rouse Stanley despite how hard of hearing he has become over the years.

Except no quick response comes.

Stanley doesn't so much as twitch in his spot on the couch.

The fear comes back-

Oh, don't be ridiculous!

"Very funny, Stanley." He lets the door close, quietly, before moving to stand in front of his brother, hands on either hip.

He looks, really looks, at Stan.

And sees nothing good.

The first notable, and most concerning finding, is that his brother isn't breathing. He waits, watching, assuming this to be a breath hold.

A joke.

But that isn't the only concerning evidence. Stanley's eyes are also halfway open, looking over the yard. Empty.

Not funny anymore, very much NOT funny!

Ford does not panic, not yet. He moves and picks up the cup, plucking it out of his brother's hand- It lacks any strength, like taking a toy from a child.

"Stanley? Wake up. Very good joke, you got me. Stop it now." He kneels on the couch, next to him, after setting the cup aside on the porch by their feet.

For the second time since coming home, Ford touches Stanley. This time with a kinder hold, reaching up to press two fingers along the pulse point between the jaw and collar bone, off to the side of the Adam's apple.

Nothing.

'One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten-'

He could count on one hand the number of times true panic has overtaken him in his lifetime. It isn't a luxury one can often afford when coming face to face with death constantly in the multiverse-

But what harm can come of it when someone is already dead?

His hand stays right where it is, tucked into the still-warm skin-

"No, this isn't funny-" But Ford's voice shakes and he snatches the hand away quickly. If he can't feel the lack of pulse, it's not there. Simple.

How didn't he notice? When did this happen?

What happened?

No- Ford turns, looking around the peaceful yard. Dew covers the grass, the sun peaked up about half an hour ago basking the clearing in pink and yellow hues.

There isn't any blood.

Death is messy. He has seen it countless times, but it is never, ever, peaceful. Knives, guns, cracking bones, broken bodies...

Looking back at Stanley none of that is present. The skin is still pink, and warm, eyes open but- Dead.

No. That can't be. It just can't.

Stanley looks almost peaceful, asleep. His coffee, barely a sip or two taken from the looks of it. "No."

Panic takes many different forms. Initially, instinctively, Ford looked for the cause. It had to be someone, something, who did this. Who took his brother?

But there is nothing, no one, in sight. No blood.

"Stanley, who-" His feet stop, body stalling, in the middle of turning back from the yard to look at the corpse...

He had been about to ask, to question who did this. But a dead body can't answer. A dead body, a corpse.

There is a distinction between a vessel and a person, or so Ford had always thought.

Everyone dies and until then you live inside and pilot your body. Someday, it becomes a corpse and you leave it behind.

That is such a cold and callous way to look at it, in retrospect. Because this, is Stanley. He's just- Gone.

With quick hands, Ford begins looking, almost in a frenzy, for the cause.

No blunt force trauma to the back of the head. No perforations to the abdomen, arms, nothing. There is nothing.

But that's not possible, people don't just-

Except they do. Sometimes-

No. NO! Not them, not him! Stanley Pines wouldn't just die, not without a fight!

Death doesn't play favorites, anyone can go, anytime-

"Shut up! No, he wouldn't! He wouldn't leave me!" It comes out in a shout and shakes him.

It wasn't supposed to end like this.

He never allowed himself to think very far into the future, how could he? Everything was always changing and it was better to live in the now anyway. So long as you were safe now, other things could be handled later-

Except later doesn't always wait for you to be ready. Time has its own plans and you have to work around it or something-

Stanley wasn't supposed to die. Isn't! he can't be-

Except-

There are no obvious injuries, but then again there don't have to be. They may not be old, but they're old enough. Brain aneurysms take hold suddenly, killing the affected almost instantly.

Leaving barely enough time to set down a cup of coffee-

Or a heart attack?

No, Stanley would have come inside, asked for help-

Wouldn't he?

"You idiot!" It comes out in a hiss from where Ford has shifted. He's kneeling right next to Stanley, hand on either shoulder, looking at his half-open but- Dead. Dead eyes. Empty. Gone.

Soulless.

Ford isn't sure who he's talking to. Himself? or Stanley? Both?

"I would have helped you, we could have called someone, I-" He has to pull away, sinking down into the empty space of the couch to hide the tears springing up without permission.

This can't be happening. Things weren't supposed to end like this-

Oh yeah, how was it supposed to go then?

With you, kicking him out next week? Leaving him homeless, again, just like Pa?

"Stop it! I don't know, not like this!" Stanley was always the stronger between them, persevering through everything no matter what happened.

Is this my fault?

What a stupid question.

It forces him to sit up again, one hand covering his face while half peering out at Stanley.

Of course it is. What did you expect? That he would take his life being uprooted lying down?

Did he do this on purpose?

In the rush to pick up the cup of coffee Ford almost knocks it over but finds he can't hold it without spilling some of it over the sides, down onto the porch, anyway. He is left with no choice but to set it back down to avoid wasting the sample.

Maybe.

Ford takes both a physical and mental step back, leaning against one of the columns holding up the roof over the porch, to look around.

Breathing is getting a little more difficult, coming in tight short inhales and smaller and smaller exhales.

What better way to get back at me? Thirty years of a life spent learning math, science, and engineering skills well beyond any normal human's comprehension, for what?

To get a brother back who first chance he got told him to pack it up and get out?

"What kind of brother am I?"

The kind who would rather be right than-

Then apologize. Forgive. Make up. Let go.

And now, it's too late. The train left the station, Stanley is gone, and its all my fault.

"He died thinking I hated him." That realization is what breaks the decade-old dam, tears finally escaping. Ford closes the distance, sitting on the stupid couch and pulling Stanley over into a hug, even if he's not here to feel it.

The lack of strong, still buff, arms encircling him, returning the sentiment only makes him cry harder into the thin and crappy tank top Stanley must have worn to bed.

"I'm sorry." He chokes out between sobs, "I thought I'd have more time, you'd have more time. I didn't think- How could I?" Nothing he's saying is making much sense.

The ramblings of a heartbroken lunatic.

As if we really deserve to be upset, like you'd of cared if it wasn't life or death-

Maybe his own thoughts are right. If Stanley had been alive, sitting here, having his morning coffee they would have traded morning insults before going their separate ways.

But that's not the reality they live in. This one is much worse, much darker.

I spent so much time running away, trying to break apart, and be unique. No longer part of a broken pair, or what I saw as one, I-

"I never expected to miss it when the other half was gone." He is still shaking, refusing to let go, with thoughts still scrambled in a million different directions.

CPR wouldn't do any good now, although it's a nice thought. If Stanley came out here directly after preparing his coffee then that was almost twenty minutes ago, give or take-

Oh god. What about the kids?

Without letting go Ford checks the time on his watch, wincing. A few hours at most, but he'll have to call the coroner-

What does he do?

For the first time, possibly ever, Ford feels lost.

Not only because his twin is currently dead, which is already world-ending, but everything that comes with it.

Who does he say the corpse belongs to? Stanley Pines has been dead for decades-

Is that why he did this? So that Ford could slot right back into his old life, fixing the broken and shattered history? No. This had to be an accident-

Only the testing of the coffee will confirm it or not.

Ford has never had to stick around and deal with a dead body before. Moving on was easier, and necessary. He can't remember attending a funeral, other than their great aunts when they were barely seven.

That's not the same. He'll have to make arrangements, put together pictures, and give a speech-

About a life he knows nothing about.

"God, I'm sorry Stanley. I'm so sorry." It feels safe to let his voice break here. No one is around to see how completely destroyed he feels. "All you ever did was love me, and I pushed you away. I crushed it, refused, and now..."

"Now you're gone. I can't even remember the last time I told you that I love you, but I do. So much, more than I could ever handle." Ford can't let go, but he does shift back to look at his brother's face, holding his limp body with one hand and clearing his own tears with the other.

"For what it's worth, I'm glad I'm here. Thank you, for bringing me back." He has to close his eyes, fresh tear tracks spilling across both cheeks, "Even if only so I could say goodbye. I'm glad I got that, at least. If only you were here-"

With a broken voice, Ford can't stand looking at Stan like this anymore. He reaches up, closing both eyes with feather-light fingers, before leaning close to press them forehead to forehead. Just like when they were young. Before everything.

It's odd. How fast do corpses cool? Not that Ford is going to complain. It lets him pretend, just for a few more moments, that Stanley isn't gone. That they could have this again.

Too little, too late.

"I love you, Stanley." It comes out broken and cruel, like the universe is mocking him. What was the point in protecting them from Bill if death came knocking anyway?

For the first time since coming home, Ford understands.

Finally, he can see why Stanley wasted so much of his life trying to bring him back. Because he loves so much, so big. To his own detriment.

He would do anything, even destroy the world, to have Ford by his side again.

"I'm so sorry, you deserved so much better." How different could things of been?

What would Stanley of done instead? Gotten married? Had kids?

A better family, that's for sure.

Ford knows he can't stay here forever. He needs to let go, head inside, and make some phone calls. To tell Soos to close the shack for the day, get an ambulance to bring Stanley to the morgue.

He needs to prepare for when the kids wake up and figure out what to tell them.

But first, he indulges himself a little bit more by leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Stanley's lips. It smells of coffee, cigars, and denture cream, but Ford can't detect any sort of drug or chemical from close proximity alone. It's nice.

Not what you'd expect from a corpse, but it's enough.

A goodbye, a real one in a weird broken way. Just their luck.

The absolute last thing Ford expects, upon starting to pull away, is to feel the body still pressed very tight to his own take in a very deep breath followed by Stanley's discarded hands coming up to grab at him.

"Stanley!" His voice is still broken, mixed with anger and joy in a typhoon of confusion.

And Stanley? He has the nerve to laugh!

"Don't think you're walking away from that so easily!" No longer locked inside his own body without the ability to do anything it's a relief to be able to breathe. But even better, he can pull Ford over on top of his lap, locking one leg in place against the side of the couch.

"Excuse me! I thought you were dead! What the fuck, Stanley! You can't just go around pretending to be dead to mess with people! What if the kids had found you, or Soos, or Wendy?! You would have scared them half to death, you scared me half to death!"

Truly, it's a complicated story. One Stan is pretty sure Ford doesn't want to hear right now when his mind is running a mile a minute.

He has other things that need to be said instead of explaining whoever that weird wizard was who came out of the forest.

Forcibly Stanley grabs Ford's face, bringing him down so they are face to face again, leaving no room for argument in their close proximity. "Shut up, will you?"

Being locked in was sort of a blessing because participating in the conversation is so much harder than he thought it would be moments ago. He steals his nerves anyway, "I love you too, I'm not dead, and I'm pretty sure forty years should have made you a better kisser than that. Otherwise, I've got my work cut out for me. Try again."

By now Ford's face is bright red both out of anger at being tricked and embarrassment at their current position. But Stanley's hands are no longer weak, holding him tightly in place. Not that he seriously wants to argue anyway.

Stan waits, but the longer Ford stares, the more unsure he becomes. Maybe he misunderstood? Or maybe Ford just has a thing for corpses and now that he isn't one, the interest is gone.

Fair enough, Stan knows he isn't much to look at. Age wasn't as kind to him as it was to Ford. All lean muscles, few wrinkles, and barely greying hair. It's stupid, really.

It would be hypocritical to go right back to being mad, wouldn't it?

Just because Stanley isn't dead now, doesn't mean he won't be next time. Or the time after that.

Anything could happen.

Ford knows he should pull away. They should talk about what the hell just happened. He should move off his brother's damn lap!

Or, he could give in to the very thing he's spent two-thirds of their lives running from. The details and tough conversation can be hashed out later, right?

It's the hold on his jaw loosening that yanks Ford out of his spinning thoughts back to the present. Stanley is pulling away, looking down-

How long was he lost in thought? It couldn't have been more than twenty seconds. Did he change his mind? No, then why does he look so-

Well. Stanley looks the same as he always does.

Oh. Briefly, for a few seconds, Stanley was being brave. He opened up and showed his hand. Let himself be vulnerable.

Idiot!

His hands had never fully left Stan's shoulders, but he tightens their grip now, shifting one up to cup along the underside of his jaw. He doesn't feel the need to say anything, because neither of them has ever really been good with words.

He leans down, surprising them both, with a much more insistent kiss.

A hello. And maybe? A new beginning.

[denalidear]

Sleepy

a/n: oops. forgot i said i was gonna do this whole thing. well here a little fic i wrote a while back and never posted.

summary: wil is so eepy.

word count: 886

warnings: none?

- - -

It had been a long day for him, you knew. Between streaming, working on new music, and how late the two of you had stayed up the night before; he was tired. So when you asked to cuddle and watch a movie, you had put two and two together to start your master plan. You strategically placed yourself underneath him, his head on your collarbone as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Love I’m going to fall asleep if you keep on playing with my hair.” He warned, adjusting so his arms were tucked well around your torso. He yawned and leaned into you more and you smiled.

“What if I told you that was the point?” You teased, trying to contain your laugh as to not disturb the sleepy boy.

“Then I’d tell you you’d better be comfortable because I won’t be moving once I’m asleep.” He mumbled, now pulling the blanket covering you two further up his shoulders.

“Bring it on, buddy.” You said, turning your attention back to the movie while continuing your ministrations in his hair. Soon enough you felt his weight sink into you, his breath coming out in soft puffs over your neck. He had fallen asleep and your plan was a success.

-----

Wil was a sleepy guy. After the first nap he’d had cuddling with you, he requested more and more. It became a regular occurrence for him to seek you out straight after finishing a stream, only to fall asleep in your arms.

But today, he was determined to prove he didn’t need a nap. You’d dragged him all around London, going to shops and cafes. He played along happily for the first four hours, but after dinner came and went his resolve was sarting to wear thin. He happily carried your tote bag that you’d filled with the goodies you’d acrewed, but he was nearly nodding off as you sat at the station waiting for the next train home.

“Wil.” You tapped his knee, “The announcer said it’d be pulling up soon.”

“Ok.” He nodded, resisting the urge to lean into your shoulder. Soon the train pulled up and you boarded. Wil fought to stay awake as he sunk into the plush of the seat.

“Baby you can sleep on my shoulder.” You said patting his leg to comfort him.

“No, I’m not tired, I promise.” He said quietly. As miuch as you wanted to believe him, not two minuets later his head was on your shoulder and he was snoring away. You couln’t help but smile.

-----

The band said goodnight to the crowd, passing out the set list and spare picks. The main lights came up as the audience began to leave and the band got off stage. Wil came straight up to you, as was post gig tradition, for a kiss and a very sweaty hug.

“You did great, handsome!” You smiled, holding his face between your hands. As you looked into his eyes, you could see the adrenaline slowly leaving his system as his eyelids began to slouch.

“Thanks darling.” He smiled, leaning in for another kiss. You decided it was time for him to go to bed, leaving the venue in favor of the quiet tour bus. He held your hand tight as you lead him to the bunks in the back, speaking quietly about how he thought the concert had gone. You tucked him in like a little kid, teasing him about being a toddler while he laughed.

“But will you cuddle with me?” He said, grabbing your hand before you could pull away.

“Of course, baby.” You smiled, kicking off your shoes and sliding into bed. Would you regret not changing into PJ’s when you woke up? Probably. But this moment was perfect, and you wouldn’t ever pick a shower over sleeping with your boyfriend.

-----

“Chat, guess who just got home from work?” Wil smiled as he looked at the text you had just sent him, confirming you made it safely to his house. He quickly typed back a response, saying he was on stream but that you should come and visit him. He continued speaking to chat before he heard a small knock on the door.

You creeped into his office, dragging your feet after a long day of work. “Hello, love.” Your boyfriend spun around in his chair and st up to greet you. He lifted his arms to invite you onto his lap and into a hug. “How was work?”

“Good. Just tired.” You mumbled into his neck. “You can keep playing. I’ll just cuddle.” He rubbed your back and turned back around to his screen.

“Chat, my darling has had a long day, so she’s a little tired. I’ll finish this up and then we are gonna go to bed.” He smiled, reaching around your body cuddled up to his chest and began to play again.

He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as your head lulled back and your weight sunk into him. “I think she fell asleep.” He whispered to chat. He looked down at your peaceful face. “Yeah she’s totally out.” He giggled, keeping his voice low.

“That’s my cue to leave, friends. Thanks for tuning in. I’ve got to get my love into bed, poor girl. Good night, everyone.”

[payasita]

Speaking of fic stuff: The Lamb and Nari wake up one morning covered in bandages, surrounded by empty bottles. They have ZERO recollection of the night before. Now what?

He awakes to a taste like bile and rust, and with one hand wrapped in at least twenty layers of gauze.

Narinder takes a second to stare at it, wiggling immobile fingers and contemplating the mechanics of sitting up with a head somehow filled with both cotton and lead. He drops the hand and decides against it, rolling over and pulling a blanket over his head. The movement does absolutely heinous things to his stomach.

A slow minute passes before he realizes he is not under a blanket at all. It's comfortable regardless, so he cannot summon the effort to care. Far softer than anything yet available in the commune. The familiar scent doesn't hurt, warm and securely claimed with his own, and indeed does a good job in blocking out the currently unmanageable stench of the outside world.

Until it's nearly pulled away from him. He clutches onto it with a hiss, and instantly regrets moving so quickly.

"Oh good, you're alive." The Lamb gives it another tug. "Give me back my fleece."

Narinder vaguely remembers having lost a battle against them while at his full divine potential. He'd even had both hands available to him and everything. He cannot truly imagine the odds are with him now.

"Thank you," they huff when he unlatches his claws. He searches for something else to cover his face while they clothe themself. His skull appears to be imploding.

"I am dying," he declares. There's a few seconds of silence. Contemplation on the Lamb's end. Abject suffering on Narinder's.

"Nope. Not sensing it."

"Your competence with the Crown is dubious at best."

"You're not dying," they assure him, lightheartedly, "It just feels like it."

He groans, rolling over and hitting himself in the face with the large gauze lump in his attempt to throw his arm over his eyes. He snarls, and begins blindly picking at it with his free claw to find the edge.

The Lamb snorts, leaning over him. They have an armful of empty bottles under an arm, and are looking infuriatingly chipper.

"How'd you go and do that to yourself?"

He glares at them, pointedly.

"I clearly cannot have done this on my own."

"What, you don't remember?"

"...No," he admits. "What happened, then?"

"Oh, hell if I know," the Lamb laughs, and is saved from having that smile shorn off their face by his vertigo alone.

They move around him and pick up another bottle, inspecting it. "I was at the same feast you were, y'know. And if you'd had all this yourself, you probably would be dead," they gesture to the bundle under their arm, already five or six strong and slipping a bit.

"... Actually, we should probably both still be dead," they tut. "I don't even know what the flock puts in this stuff, 'sides from berries. But wow, they're good at it. Hey, actually, do you think maybe we have the makings of something worth exporting to the outside world? Plimbo's always making trips back and forth to who-knows-where, I bet we could--"

"Lamb."

"Mm?"

"Your chattering is causing me physical pain."

"Oop. ...Guess I should be grateful for the divine healing factor, huh?"

Narinder ponders the irony of wishing Death incarnate to choke, and finally finishes unraveling his hand. He squints at it. He sees no damage whatsoever that might have compelled anyone to waste medical resources on him. Not a strand out of place. He inspects his claws, and finds a bit of blood under them. Odd.

"There must be, like, a dozen bottles of wine in here. Do you think I drank most of it? I remember everyone in the temple cheering when I started chugging one. ...Or, uh. Three," the Lamb recounts, setting the pile down on a nearby table. Narinder watches them, scanning down their body for any abnormalities. No claw marks or stab wounds remain, but they would be gone by now. Still. The fact that he feels metal when he pushes his hand under his pillow is probably worth noting.

"You have a basket around here?" the Lamb asks after a point, "I need somewhere to put these."

Narinder says, "I do not live here."

"...Whuh?"

"This is not my hut."

The Lamb pauses. They glance around, newly curious. Narinder grasps at the bit of metal under his pillow, and retrieves a dagger. It is smeared with blood. He eyes it, vaguely toying with the way light plays off of the dull blade.

"Did I attempt to kill you last night?" he asks idly. The Lamb looks over. They see the knife.

"...Nnnno?" They try, not even attempting to sound certain.

"I believe," Narinder mutters, hardly feeling bothered to spare the focus, "I might have killed someone."

The Lamb looks at him, having the grace to at least look troubled. Narinder, on the other hand, remains far more concerned with the roiling in his stomach.

"... Okay, wait. Wait, I think I remember-- yeah," the Lamb snaps, and points at him. "Yeah! You lost your hand privileges."

"What," Narinder says.

"Yeah! You were doing-- something," the Lamb waves off vaguely, "Yeah, I think I remember-- I had to take the claws away? I mean. That would explain the bandages?"

Narinder glances over. It certainly sounds like the sort of logic they would act upon, in the event of his own uninhibited violence.

"...So I did try and kill you, again."

"Iiii, dunno? I mean. Maybe?" Again, they don't sound remotely sure. The "divine healing factor" does not, it appears, account for episodes of alcoholic blackout. Good to know.

So, trying to kill his spouse was one possible explanation. Admittedly, it wasn't even a far-fetched one. But the ambient stench of this hut offers another.

"Lamb," Narinder sits up, winning a valiant battle with his own vertigo, "Whose shelter is this?"

The Lamb pauses. They look around again at all the bottles strewn about. They look up. At the same time they do, a droplet of blood plops onto their cheek.

"...I think his name was Bremar," the Lamb hums.

"You think?"

"I mean, the Crown can only tell me so much. 'Specially when the corpse in question has somehow been reduced to... uh... streamers."

"Ah."

"So, uh, we should--- we should go."

Narinder growls. His stomach does not agree with the prospect of standing up anytime soon.

"Ten more minutes."

"Nari," the Lamb deadpans, "You eviscerated a guy."

"...Five, then."

[blakelysco-pilot]

I couldn’t let November 8th go by without acknowledging Val’s birthday. So with that said, I wrote a little something for The Gal on her special day. I hope you all enjoy it! 💗

“Is she still sleeping?”

“Yes, and by the looks of it, not planning on joining the land of the living any time soon.”

“Shh, be quiet or he’s going to startle and she’s going to be pissed.”

Crowded onto one bed, Olive, Helen and Tattie sat watching as Val continued to snooze peacefully. Curled up on her own bed with Meatball tucked up against her side, the three women waited patiently for her to wake up. Murmuring softly, Val snuggled closer to the Husky, a soft sigh escaping her as she continued to dream.

“Oh Ev, that’s nice…”

Unable to hold in her laughter at that, Olive let go of a cackle that echoed through their hut, her eyes wide as Tattie slapped a hand over her mouth. It was no use; the sound had startled Val awake, and caused Meatball to huff indignantly before jumping from the bed and trotting over to Tattie’s to curl back up on. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, Val stopped when she saw all three of her friends watching her with smiles on their faces.

“Uhm… Why are you three watching me? Was I drooling?”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

“Oh Jesus, shush!” Val winced, their shouting and the lack of coffee too much for her first thing in the morning.

“Nooo, no,” Olive shook her head, coming to pull Val from the warmth of her bunk. “Today’s your birthday Chicken! Time to get up!”

“But it’s warm under my blankets!”

“There’s a handsome pilot waiting to walk you to breakfast.” Helen sing songed, coming to help Olive pull her from the bed.

“What about-”

“Not today,” Tattie smiled. “Today, you have a nice breakfast with Blakely. We can handle the truck, no one’s going up today.”

“You’re giving me a day off, Tat?”

“He asked nicely, what can I say?” She grinned, watching as Helen and Olive successfully pulled her from the bed.

Stumbling to the bathroom, Val made quick work of washing up before coming back out to put on her makeup and take out her rollers from the night before. Checking her watch, she knew she had about fifteen minutes before Ev would knock on the door of their hut, and she didn’t want to keep him waiting. She methodically pinned her hair before applying her lipstick and rouge, catching sight of Helen in the mirror laying out her dress uniform instead of her regular jumpsuit.

“Thanks Hel.” she smiled at her in the mirror, the brunette beaming back at her.

“You’re welcome. Hey, do you always dream about Ev when you’re cuddling the dog?”

“You know,” Val heaved a sigh as she stood to get dressed. “When I asked if I was drooling, you three conveniently left that part out.”

“Oops!” She giggled as Val narrowed her eyes, the top of a crush cap went past the windows above their beds. “Better hurry and get dressed, birthday girl, your man is here.”

And so the day had started with loud declarations of wishes from her three best friends before she was whisked away to the Officers Mess for breakfast with Everett. She hadn’t griped about the powdered eggs that morning. She was working on accepting that she was the one having coffee poured for her. It was something that was not lost on Ev as the kind gentleman who served in the Officers Mess approached them, a small pot in hand. Her eyes had gone wide when he asked her if she wanted another cup, and Ev had nodded encouragingly before she had replied yes, please. They had chatted quietly over toast; of birthdays past and traditions back home. If you wiped away the setting around them, they were just a man and a woman having a quaint breakfast, celebrating a special day that wasn’t tainted by the war. And when Everett pulled the keys to a jeep from his pocket, childlike glee on his face as he held his hand out to her, she knew that he was just one more birthday tradition she would get to enjoy as the years went on.

He had spent the day walking through town with her, indulging her every time she pulled him into a shop. He stood back and watched as she browsed the small makeup counter in the general store, encouraging her to pick something she liked so that he could treat her for her birthday. He had simply smiled as he handed a few notes to the woman working the counter before handing the package to Val, who tucked it into her purse with a smile. She had balked when he pulled her into the bakery, insisting on splitting something since he couldn’t get her a birthday cake. And by the time dusk had fallen, they were seated at a table in the pub for dinner. The owner of the Half Moon Pub grinned when he spotted them, pointing over to the corner of the room where Val was expecting a table for her and Everett, but stopped in her tracks when she found that all of their friends were already there waiting for them.

“Hey, there she is!”

“It’s the birthday girl!”

“About time, I was getting hungry!”

The pair squeezed into two empty seats, Olive and Doug on one side, Helen and Rosie on her right. Tattie and Jack sat across from her, with the rest of Rosie’s crew and Croz filling in the gaps. She was missing so many people around this table, and yet, the ones who did fill the seats made it their mission to remind her of how loved she was, and how much she did have in her life despite the missing pieces. And so they ate, and drank, and drank some more, the conversation never ending even as the pub grew louder around them. So loud that she didn’t notice Doug whispering something to Ollive, who nudged Tattie, while she was laughing at something Pappy was saying. She didn’t recognize the distraction of Croz telling her all about what Jean was getting up to back home, until the person who had been playing the piano in the pub began playing Happy Birthday, and Tattie was placing three very familiar looking donuts stacked onto a plate in front of her. Dougie’s zippo was alight in her hand, and the entire pub was singing to her.

“Nooo, come on you guys!”

“Happy birthday dear Vaaaaal! Happy Birthday to youuuuu!”

“Oh my god, this is way too much!”

“Oh, blow out the lighter and make a wish, Chicken!” Olive had crowed from her seat next to her, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into a hug.

“Fine, okay, okay…” with a deep breath, she closed her eyes and made her wish, though she was sure everyone at the table knew what she was wishing for. “Thank you, I mean it, this has been such a nice day.”

“You deserve it.” Tattie grinned, tossing the lighter back to Doug.

“Yeah, we all love you, DiRosano.”

“Is that sentiment I see in your eye, Jack?” She had narrowed her own eyes at him, unable to stop from laughing when he rolled his eyes, Tattie placating him with a pat on the back.

“Yes it is, now, enjoy it while it lasts. Tomorrow I go back to being the Wicked Air Exec of the Control Tower.”

“Does that make the boys your flying monkeys?” Helen sniggered, causing Croz to choke on his drink as the rest of the table around them laughed.

Everyone fell into easy conversation, the donuts picked over by the group as the drinks continued to flow and music continued to play. The other girls had broken off to dance with the respective fellas, Rosie and Croz each taking Helen for a spin so that she wouldn’t feel left out. Val just caught Ev standing, offering her his hand so that he too, could take a turn on the dance floor with her.

“You know,” she murmured, lips pressed to his ear as he gently swayed them. “You didn’t have to do all of this.”

“I know I didn’t have to,” he replied. “But, I wanted to.”

“I would have been perfectly content with dinner in the mess hall and dancing in the Officers Club.”

“I know that too.”

“Hey Ev?”

“Yea sweetheart?”

“Thank you,” pulling her face from where she was nuzzled against him, she was beaming as he caught her gaze, and he couldn’t stop himself from kissing her full on the mouth, with everyone around them. “I love you…”

“Not nearly as much as I love you, pretty.”

After two more songs, she caught him passing the keys to the jeep they had come to town in over to Dougie, who pocketed them and gave him a wink.

“Can I give you your present now?”

“My- what? You did so much today, that was my present wasn’t it?”

“It was, but I have one more thing for you.”

“Everett!”

“So?”

“Yes,” she conceded with a smile. “But I’m telling you now, it’s too much,”

“Come with me.” He grinned, taking her hand and leading her towards the back of the pub, away from their friends and the crowd, towards the stairs that led upstairs to the rooms.

Letting her go first, she climbed the stairs carefully, waiting for him to join her and explain what they were doing up there. Turning, she caught his gaze as he joined her at the top of the stairs, pulling a key from his breast pocket and moving to one of the doors.

“Are we… did you?”

“Are we staying here? Yes we are.”

“Are you crazy! You spent more than enough money on me today!”

“Would you stop, please, and let me spoil you just a little bit?” He opened the door and ushered her in ahead of him before he closed it behind them, locking it so they wouldn’t be interrupted.

“This is way more than spoiling me, Everett!”

“Just you wait till the war is over and we get home, then we’ll see about really spoiling you.”

“That’s my purse,” she spotted her bag sitting on the small desk in the corner. “And your jacket.”

“Very good,” he teased. “You’d make a great spy.”

“Olive and Doug…”

“Yes, now, get comfy, because we have the whole night to ourselves, and if it’s not too much to ask, I’d like to spend it curled up with you.”

“Oh, that is not too much to ask at all, Major.”

And so they found themselves under the patchwork blanket that covered the double bed, the mattress just soft enough that it was like sleeping on a cloud compared to what Thorpe Abbotts was passing off as mattresses. The window was cracked, letting in just the right amount of a breeze, and the small lamp on the night table was the only light in the room. Their soft breaths were the only sound that filled the gaps between light conversation. Just two people wrapped in each other's arms with the promise of the future, and a birthday wish that Val hoped would come true.

“Your present is still waiting to be unwrapped.”

“Don’t need it.”

“But…”

“Tomorrow…” she murmured happily, face pressed against his chest, the soft smattering of hair just under her cheek. “Right now, I’ve got everything I need right here in this bed.”

“Okay baby, if that’s what you want.”

Just as she was beginning to doze, sleep tugging at her gently, Val couldn’t help the contented sigh that passed from her lips, shuffling down under the blankets and holding on to Everett just a little bit tighter.

“So much better than the dog…”

Tag List: @winniemaywebber @sagesolsticewrites @bobparkhurst @rosiesriveter @victoryrollsandredlips @bcolfanfic @major-mads @footprintsinthesxnd @roosevelt-stalin-cocacola @justheretoreadthxxs @claireelizabeth85 @hephaestn @ktredshoes @peachessndreamss @hellfirequinnie @spinteresting @prettyinlimegreenboots @manonsmanicmind @therealslimshakespeare @beingalive1 @ptvstvrrr @lestweforget5

[anonymous-existences]

Chapter 7 : A Familial but Amusing Mess

Summary:

Sleep Deprived Tim confront Danny and Dante about who they are, passes out because of Nocturn residue that lingers around Danny when Danny is with Nocturn in their dreams.

Dante brings Tim back to Wayne Manor.

Gets along with Alfred

Gets the approval of Damian and somehow didn't get the attempted stabbing.

Dante is amused

[𝙱𝚊𝚡𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚛, 8:30 𝙰𝙼]

"Hey guys, it's 8:30 AM I know I'm like vlogging too early but y'all have to see this shit— Tim Drake Wayne. Is at my door.. well the Manor's door— which one of you guys messaged Tim Drake that My Friends look like- like uh. Resemble... Bruce Wayne." Tucker said yawning as he does so and pointing the Camera at the window where Danny, Dante and Tim were Talking.

"One of you have got to have said it— oh god." Tucker says with a sigh and Tim saw him and he Slightly waved. "It's my Crush Dash—" Tucker was cut off by a groan. "I don't care if you wanna suck Tim Drake's Cock." Dash groaned and on the floor sleepy as shit. "ANYWAYS guys ignore my Gay Brother, There's Valerie on the window— VAL DON'T JUMP—" Tucker tries to stop Valerie and she jumped from the 3rd floor to the ground effortlessly and ran beside Dante and Covering Danny as if to protect him.

"Please calm down the both of you.." Danny says softly with a sigh and Dante growls under his breathe and Valerie Crosses her arms and Danny rolled his wheelchair forward Infront of Tim. "Hello again Sir Tim. I am Danny. Or Daniel... But I prefer Danny." He raised his hand and Tim shook it. "Please come inside and let's settle and have a discussion." Danny politely says and a half asleep, No sleep for 4 days Tim nodded. "You're Bruce's so—" Danny raises his hand in a way to silence Tim. Danny smiled and tilts his head. "Inside." He states sternly his eyes nearly devoid of light but pure disdain and caution that warned Tim that if he pushed further without following instructions he will be kicked out and so Tim nodded.

"Guess we're talking with Waynes~ Dash how does it feel to crush on ANOTHER Wayne." Tucker laughed and Dash Groaned "I used to think Dick Grayson is the hottest but it's totally Jason Todd. And If Danny IS the son of Wayne then he's the hottest but for now it's Jason Todd." Dash scoffed, "Based." Tucker laughed and Dash laughed along as they said goodbye to the current early viewers and turned off the vlog, as the two headed downstairs they heard Danny with a stern voice, "I wish to have some Normalcy in my life for the meantime so I will not be involving myself with the Wayne's until we feel that we need to or we have to." Danny stated with a blunt tone along with Dante and Valerie's Grunts of Approval.

"Can I ask why not?" Tim asks groggily fighting the sleepiness that's overcoming him, he doesn't understand why the coffee is suddenly not working even tho he was fully awake for a moment when he faced Danny he immediately felt... Sleepy and Tired.. "I'd like to be friends at first.. please.... We want to feel safe... And normal for a tad bit long—" Danny stopped talking when Tim Passed out asleep. "Right... Nocturn's side effects—" Danny says pointing out how He and Nocturn had been chattering in his dreams and sometimes he leaves residue of his powers around Danny that scatters that affects NORMAL people but somehow not liminals. "Oop... He's uh. Gone Dead silent?" Tucker asks with a bemused smile and Dash tilting his head before speaking up.

"Alright Dudes... Let's... Set him aside before grama and gramps wakes up." Dash shooed them away as Dante carries Tim over his shoulder and lets him fall on the overly comfy couch in their personal lounge and covers him with the overly soft Blanket. Something inside Dante Bubbles up, care? Perhaps. It felt like the urge he feels when Danny also sleep, the urge to care for family. Dante chuckled to himself and drags his hand down his face as he curses himself mentally.

"I'm so fucking stupid..." He groans and looked back to see the 3 are back to sleep and Danny yawning again.

Right..

It's too early to worry about this.

Dante carried Danny to the softer side of the Couch that turns into a bed and let's Valerie sit on the chair couch and Tucker on his Gaming Chair with Dash on the rug. He carefully puts the softest blankets he could find for all of them especially putting pillows for the three who were sleeping in the most random places. He took their mugs which were already empty, He turns off the lights and the other unnecessary lights on the lounge room. Dante smiles subtly and grunts in approval and pride as he puts on his bluish Red Cap and puts on his facemask whilst walking down the stairs.

"Oh, good morning ma'am." He greets the elder grandmother politely, "oh Dante! You're awake early today little dearie! Would you be a darling and help me with the plants and feeding the barn animals and the horses? the husband is still asleep after all." She laughs endearingly, and Dante nods politely, he saw these elders as his family as well as the feeling of excitement stirred inside his chest, he helps the elderly woman walk out the Manor and into the barn to help with feeding the animals and the 4 old horses that has been thriving well and amazingly.

For all Dante has acquired knowledge of, the Horses were bought and adopted when the elderly woman was around her 30s and now she's the charming elderly lady that being around 60 years old as Dante has confirmed. Dante has asked clockwork himself to extend their lifeline and the Clock listened and obliged to his wish for the first time which in turn made Dante's core buzz in happiness knowing the elderly people will be protected until they reached past the age of 100, "Can I know their names again Mrs Baxter?" Dante asks with a softer tone and Mrs. Baxter perked up.

"This is Butterscotch, she's a Mare as implied by her name, she is a show horse back in my days but now she's a retired Friesan, she's won around 3 gold Medals! She's such a beautiful old girl of mine .. my first darling. Here is Walking Abyss, He is a Stud and a pure black Clydesdale, he is the reason me and Harold(Her Husband), we fought over him and eventually this truck large stud brought us together through our resilience. Now this is a much younger girlie of mine, dearest SnowBat." She chuckled, "Yes! I remember her... You named her SnowBat because you found her abandoned in the winter and found that she had odd Bat like patterns on her Bareback." Dante states to express that he listens to her talk about her animals.

Berta, the Sweet Old Lady Chuckled in amusement and nodded, "it is also because I've found her sleeping whilst standing with bats hanging from her stomach, it was such an odd and peculiar sight but it adds to her charm. Now this... This is dear old RedIvy.. such a sweetheart." She mutters gently as she opens the Horse's Pen, the Older horse was Pregnant with a new Foal and She was resting and snorting in happiness as Berta scratched her chin. "Such a sweet heart you are... My beautiful Red Quarter Horse, she's such a dearie isn't she?" The elderly Lady Chuckled and Dante nods, "Can we name her foal once it is born Mrs. Baxter?" Dante asks kneeling beside RedIvy as he also scratches the Horse's Chin and Berta Perks up. "Ofcourse dearie! You little twerps can think of a name for the soon to be foal!" She says Enthusiastically and Dante nods.

An hour passed and Dante helped Berta come back to the Manor to meet Harold the Grandfather again, the two couple kisses softly for a brief moment and chuckled which made Dante smile, his Heart softening at the sight, it reminds him of how Vlad and Clockwork looks at each other despite their constant bickering as two technically old couples. Dante smiles under his mask before he bows his head and hops on his bike to go on his daily Gotham City Ride just to help him immerse himself further into the New Scenery and Change of Atmospheres. He also wants to meet Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn hopefully to get their autographs for Sam's Grave.

Sam has always wanted to meet them... So Dante would rather get it for her and put it by her grave in the Ghost Zone. He took a deep breathe before speeding faster and making himself intangible and invisible once again as he drove past Wayne Manor, although invisible his Tires left a subtle sparkle star like trail that is so subtle that you won't notice it unless you know it's actually a trail. Dante's mission for today is to find Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn... Wait... Isn't the Q for Baxter's and Foley's Middle Name Quinzel? Is Dash and Harley related? Dante parked his bike slowly by the sidewalk in confusion as he processes his thought for a moment.

He blinks and ruffles his own hair and shook his head, maybe he could meet Waylon too, Dash has a healthy obsession with the rogue going even as far as to say that the crocodile man is cool which doesn't really surprise anyone of them.

Dante stopped near the Wayne Manor Gates again, He just watches from afar but this time his distortion to cameras is back, he stares at the Manor from afar as if it's... A lost home where he couldn't come in... Why was he here again? Fuck. Dante smacks himself for subconsciously driving near Wayne Manor as if expecting something to happen. Dante drove back home carefully hoping the others are still asleep.

The elderly couple was out for the day and the others were still asleep in the lounge as Dante had checked, Dante looks at the sleeping Tim and Carried him carefully to his car and tones down his distortion before driving back Wayne Manor to drop off the sleep deprived Wayne. Dante stopped at the gates and took a deep breathe before fixing his jacket. He ringed the bell for the gates and Conversed with the older sounding man through the speakers.

"Uhm... I have a Uh— passed out asleep cuddled into a pink giant blanket Timothy Drake-Wayne and I was hoping to drop this guy off because he seems really REALLY tired..." Dante mutters and heard a slight Gasp before the gates opens for him to head inside. "Thanks Gramps— oop— i— uh— Sorry if I called you Gramps—" Dante stutters, and the voice answered with a soft & gentle tone, "it's quite alright Young Sir." He chuckled.

Dante drove inside carefully as to not wake Tim up and He stopped Infront of the doors and Carried Tim out like the little fucking sleep deprived princess he is and Dante saw a butler around in his mid or late 40s or older as Dante thinks about it, perhaps late 50s. "Can I put him somewhere sir? I don't want you to carry the man—" Dante grumbled almost shyly as the butler chuckled, "Right this way sir." The butler let's him in as he followed the older man on where to put Timothy. "Can I know your name Sir?" The butler asked politely and Dante nodded his head as he introduced himself, "Dante. Dante Jamie Masters Sir." He says politely, "Oh please, just call me Alfred." The butler laughs softly and Dante nodded.

In the distance as they walked through the hall Dante sees a boy no older than 13 , "Alfred who is this Man? Did Father bring another ward without prior notice or warning to the rest of us?" The child Glared, by the kid's tone Dante could easily identity that he is Damian Wayne. "No sir, I'm merely here to drop Tim Drake-Wayne Off as he fell asleep whilst on an interview discussion with my Twin Brother.... You can take a picture."(translation:this moment can earn you blackmail points with your siblings.) Dante winks softly to hint to Damian and the Little Wayne didn't hesitate to take pictures as he pulled out his phone swiftly. "Master Damian, This is a Guest of ours! His name is Dante Jamie Masters if you are worried." Alfred clarifies to Damian who nodded, "Just Dan is fine please." Dante adds earning a small smile from the little gremlin.

"Can I interrogate you as we head to Drake's Chambers?" Damian asks still with the same tone and Dante laughs and Nodded. "Yes Sir Little Wayne, ofcourse you can." Dante gives him the Go. Dante didn't know that he emitted the same aura like Danny's just heavier and can be somewhat intimidating but comforting and warm nontheless, "Well we have a barn and horses in the Baxter's Mansion, so yeah I love animals and me and my twin brother converted to being vegan around 2 years ago." Damian looked at him with fascinated eyes, "If your family allows you , you can always visit the Baxter's Barn, Mr and Mrs Baxter would love seeing someone who enjoys animals as much as they do." Dante smiles under his mask. "Perhaps! I will ask my father about it in the later future as such you should expect me when I am to come!" (Translation:Please wait for me because I need to get permission from my dad because I might take an animal home from your Barn.)

Dante tipped his hat in amusement and nodded, they reached Tim's bedroom and Dante entered anxiously as he placed the man down on his bed. "Please do tell him to give back the blanket later, We really love these blankets as much as he visible loves em." Dante says as he groans and stretches him back and follows Alfred out. Alfred tried to convince Dante to stay a little while longer to eat but Dante refused but he did Exchange contacts with the Little Wayne, It seems Damian has become fond of Dante that He's actually using the Man's nickname. 'Dan'.

"Thank you for making me come home with these extremely delicious cookies, maybe I can learn from you sir! I want to make these for my brother too." Dante chuckled as he munched on one of Alfred's remarkable Baking, "It's my Pleasure to have such a pleasant student as you Master Dante if you ever wish to visit again I'll teach you with great pleasure." Alfred laughed softly and Dante Nods approvingly, he turns to Damian who was staring at him. "We have a Clydesdale and his name is Walking Abyss, if you want you can ride him because he's very gentle giant. Damian perks up before nodding. Dante tips his cap again before bowing and hopping back in his car to drive off.

He saw Damian in the rear View Mirror hesitantly wave goodbye. "such a cute kid. Guess they aren't too bad as I thought." Dante laughs as he puts a cookie in his mouth and continued to savor the taste of these cookies. "This is heavenly. I really need to get the recipe." Dante just nodding to himself as he turns up the volume in the car radio and let's his playlist turn up, Bruno Mars is his Jam. "Mr and Mrs Baxter would be happy to have a new little Visitor such as that kid, he's cute." Dante drove home visibly pleased with himself as he sang along to "Die with a Smile" by Bruno Mars and Lady Gaga, It's his Jam always will be.

As he parked his car in the garage neatly he heard the commotion inside, Danny and Dash were blushing as he entered the house. "Alright Gang, what the fuck is going on." Dante asks sternly as he places the cookies in the kitchen counter and onto a small plate neatly, "Danny Walked in on dash naked." Valerie laughed. "he what." Dante had to double-check on what the fuck they just told him.

"I walked in on Dash Naked and the first words I fucking said was "Nice Dick"... Fucking No Filter Brain..." Danny was suffering burying his face on the pillow and Dante facepalms, "Where's Dash?" Dante asks in defeat. "Suffering in his room in Embarrasament after Danny said in full volume "Nice Dick." Tucker laughed along poking fun at Danny, "TUCKER FOLEY STOP REMINDING ME YA BASTARD!!" Danny yells and throws a sandal at Tucker's Face.

"Deserved tbh." Dante stares at a stunned Sandal headshotted Tucker and Valerie just laughs louder this time at Tucker.

"I love this family." Dante combs his hair with his hands and smiled endearingly at the people he sees as his family.

Wholesome stuff before I may or may not do something brutal in the next chapter.

[meetinginsamarra]

mayprompts2024, #18 blanket

The Blanket Detective

John woke up from a terribly loud bang that seemed to have happened right in his head. He wondered drowsily what that might have been when another one happened. And another. And another. And then John realized that it had been his own teeth that were chattering so loudly.

Because he was cold.

John was freezing cold. His feet had turned into solid blocks of ice and his back felt like pressed into a corset, having gone stiff from the arctic temperatures that enveloped his body.

John, still half-asleep, pawed around to find the blanket that should have been covering his body to provide comfortable warmth and coziness but was obviously missing.

Fully awake now, John sat up in the kingsize bed he was sharing with Sherlock. Where was the blanket? Did it slide down when he turned in his sleep? Had he kicked it out while dreaming?

No and no. There was no blanket on the floor of the hotel room.

John looked at Sherlock who gently snored on the other side of the bed, tightly wrapped into a blanket. He resembled a giant burrito with a human filling.

John looked closer, suspecting that Sherlock might have hogged John’s blanket as well, but Sherlock only had one. Odd. When they had gone to sleep last night there had been two, one for each of them.

Anyway, John was freezing to death so he poked Sherlock into the back until he opened his eyes and asked, quite grumpily, “What?”

“My blanket is gone and I’m freezing. Do you have it?”

“Well, you stole mine two hours ago and I woke up freezing cold so I took yours.”

“What?” There was something utterly wrong with what Sherlock had said. “I didn’t steal anything. I woke up without the damn blanket.”

“Then you must have kicked the one you stole from me out of the bed because I woke up first being cold and therefore I took yours.” Sherlock explained petulantly.

“So, this is my blanket you’re wrapped in.”

“Yes. I needed one after you stole mine like I’ve already repeated.”

“But I didn’t steal yours!” John protested. “You stole mine as you’ve just confessed!”

Sherlock wriggled his arms out of the burrito and sat up, too. “Then why was mine missing when I woke up with chattering teeth? Before you did?”

They blinked at each other.

“Oh my God,” John exclaimed. “And you consider yourself a genius!”

“Insulting me will also not make me give back the blanket.”

John leant sideways, laying his chest over Sherlock’s legs to get a look onto the floor below Sherlock’s side of the bed.

“Ha! You are a mean blanket-thief! Just look at the evidence!”

Sherlock leant over to the side. On the floor lay the second blanket.

“I deduce,” John declaimed, “that you kicked out your blanket, woke up freezing and stole mine because you thought I had stolen yours first.”

“Oops.”

Sherlock pulled the blanket onto the bed and tossed it towards John.

“I’m not going to use it. It’s as cold as the floor and I don’t have any body heat left to warm it.” John’s teeth underlined this with an extra loud chattering.

“Okay, fine.” Sherlock grumbled and unwrapped himself. “We can share mine.”

“You mean we share mine.”

“Whatever, just come here John. The blanket is big enough for us both.”

They spent the rest of the night as a double burrito and enjoyed the heavenly warmth.

++++++++

tagging some people @calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @lisbeth-kk @peageetibbs @raina-at

[arsenic-catnep]

how dark can my thoughts get.

The idea: John and Sam having an argument about something, (most likely something small that John blew way out of proportion) and John leaves the motel for a while, then comes back and "puts Sammy to bed"

TW: incest, rape, CSA (no graphic descriptions), Dean worships Sammy and doesn't think John deserves Sammy.

A/N: I didn't proofread this and also I'm high so if I ramble or mess up grammar.. Oops

Sam and Dean are curled up in one of the motel beds, slipping in and out of sleep, just listening to the sounds of the city. They know they can't actually fall asleep, if John catches them it'll start another argument all over again.

John thinks Sam is too old to be sleeping in the same bed as Dean, and yet half the nights the three of them actually spend together, John chooses Sam's bed, although for the past few weeks he was in Dean's bed. The older brother had praised himself for holding his father's attention for so long.

Not because he wanted his father's attention, that was only a small part of it. Dean hated sharing Sam. His Sammy. No one else's, not even their father's.

Dean subconsciously tightens his arms around his baby brother, causing Sam to press harder against him. His crotch fit perfectly above Dean's hip as they lay in a position not too similar to how a mother would hold their toddler.

The older brother took a deep breath in, to calm himself and to get a lung full of the warm musk Sam started having as he grew up. Even under the offensive smell of Irish Spring the boys use, Dean can smell it.

A low hum escapes Sam's lips as he tries to stay awake, "What time is it?" his voiced cracked like porcelain.

As if on cue they both hear the sound of the impala pulling into a parking spot in front of the motel. The light from the highbeams peak through the curtains, illuminating Sam's face enough for Dean to see his frown. "Dad's back." Sam says, his voice muffled against Dean's collar bone.

Dean sighs in response and untangles their limbs, they had laid so close to each other, as if they to crawl under the others skin. Sam immediately feels cold without the perpetual furnace of Dean's body pressed against his.

As soon as they were both curled up in separate beds, the door opens, shuts, then locks. The boys listen intently as John sets his keys and dagger on the table, then removes his boots. He still seems to be pissed about the argument, though not as explosive anymore.

Dean wills himself to not tense up as he feels weight on the bed next to him, he holds his breath and waits for what he expects, but after just a few seconds the weight is gone. He listens as his dad moves from his bed to Sam's.

Panic alarms fire off in Dean's head, he'd managed to keep John focused on him for weeks, it was only a matter of time before his interest shifted back. It was hard to not just roll over and offer himself to his dad, but Dean knows that won't work. He'd just be told 'stop being ridiculous and go back to bed'

Unlike Dean, Sam was unable to keep himself from flinching when John leaned over him. His dad's breath was hot against his ear and the man smelled like whiskey. Sam opened his eyes and looked up at John, just as he had many nights before.

His wet eyes gave John a look that begged.

Begged to he left alone. Begged for John to just lay down and go to sleep. Begged for mercy.

All this did was fuel the fire in John's stomach, the flames licked up inside him like the hellfire that will consume him for the things he does. John leaned forward and pressed a stubbly kiss to Sam's cheek, the boys trembled as his dad pulled the blanket off of him.

The moments between being rolled onto his back, then having his knees pushed to his chest seemed to blur together. Sam was lost in his head until he felt the burn; everytime feels like the first time. He cried when John put him to bed. That was until he was 11. By then he'd learned how to tense his shoulders and relax his spine to ease the pain.

Sam never liked to close his eyes when John put him to bed. He didn't want the feeling to be associated with actual sleep. Even as a young kid, Sam was smart enough for his own good. Now as an adult he has no trouble sleeping. As long as he's not on his back.

Dean listened with a tight chest, he desperately wanted to jump up and tear John off of Sam. He wouldn't win that fight, and he knows it. Dean's mood soured further as he heard the sharp sound of his dad's zipper.

The ratty motel bed squeaked lightly as John put Sam to bed. John is never fast and rough with Sam, much to Dean's happiness. Sammy couldn't handle fast and rough, he needs to be treated tenderly.

Dean clenched his jaw, and a low, wet sound filled the room. Jealousy rises in his chest, though it's not an unfamiliar sounds, Dean will never get used to it. A few minutes pass and he hears John sigh loudly and now they both know it's over. Their dad places another kiss to Sammy's lips before he rolls over and lays with his back to both Sam and Dean.

Sam turns his head and peels his eyes from the ceiling. Dean rolls to face Sam and their eyes lock.

Only now do the tears come, hot streams paint his cheeks and causes a pang in Dean's chest. He wanted to take Sammy and run away, to keep him safe and treat him how he should be treated.

Dean reaches his hand out, and Sam mirrors him. Their hands lock together, Sam's are almost as big as Dean's already; soon it will surpass his. For now Dean is content with Sam's small hand dwarfed in his.

[bcbdrums]

A Touch of Warmth

A Soul Eater fanfic. Read on: AO3 | FFn

Sixth in my series of 31 prompt-based one-shots (filling them out of order; this is prompt 5). Prompts from this list.

A/N: More of the academy days for my faves, but super early this time. I wanna say...maybe just a few months of partnership here. And living in cheap academy dorms haha. Imagine a sad college dorm room I guess. Stein is only 10 years old and Spirit is 13. Long, long, rambly stream of consciousness relationship stuff that I wrote like...in the first week of December. And then didn't finish until just now (late March) and there was only a little bit left to go. Oops. Wonder how much that gap impacted the story/writing style... If you like long rambly things that don't really have a point, well, here you go. Enjoy. 5. Puzzling

A Touch of Warmth

An icy chill like breath across his cheeks was what roused Spirit from sleep. He shivered and then blinked twice before tightly closing his eyes again. Even the air was cold, assaulting the tender moisture beneath his lashes like the slap of cold water.

After taking another moment to realize he was awake and not dreaming, he fully processed the freezing sensation as one he should not be feeling on a desert morning. He clutched his blanket close to his chest and sat up in bed, squinting. White was what overwhelmed his blurred vision, and he snaked an arm out of his warm cocoon and felt almost blindly along the windowsill until his fingers met something very cold and wet.

He gasped and drew back, blinking until his sight clarified to reveal what it was he had touched.

Gathered on the sill near the open window were a line of melting snowflakes.

Spirit's jaw fell slack as he reached out to touch a cluster again, watching it turn to water rapidly even as it cooled his fingertips. But when he looked up and out the window his eyes went wide.

Where there should have been dirt, stone, and dried grasses in the backyard of the dormitory there was only white, and the sky was gray as snow fell in lace-like curtains, thick and silent, covering the landscape as far as the eye could see.

It was several moments of staring, captivated by the scene and breathing the icy air, before Spirit reached out to slide the window closed. And then he spun around to face the bed of his roommate.

"Hey Stein, wake—"

Spirit blinked. His very young meister was not in his bed.

The red-haired teen took stock of their tiny dorm room quickly, noting the boy's blankets uncharacteristically tossed back and his pair of shoes sitting neatly next to his desk. It appeared as though Stein had gotten under his bed at some point, because the corner of a box was sticking out near where the blankets were carelessly draped down to the floor. Then Spirit noticed the door to the hallway was ajar.

"Stein?" he said again as he glanced once more around their small room. The boy was definitely not there.

Spirit threw his own blankets aside and hurriedly dressed, selecting warmer clothing than he would ever choose for a day in Death City but something he was more likely to wear on an extracurricular assignment far further north. He gaze was continually drawn to the astonishing view through the window as he fumbled with a pair of boots, still not quite believing that a seeming winter had arrived in the middle of Nevada.

He had experienced snow a couple of times in his life, but never at leisure, and nothing at all like what he was seeing outside as it seemed to be sticking to sand and stone, transforming the barren landscape to one of wonder and quiet mystery.

"Stein?" Spirit asked again, peering down the hallway after pulling the door open. The dormitory was dark and silent.

Spirit's brow furrowed as he turned toward the bathroom that all the students in his wing shared, wondering if that was where the boy had gone. His meister operated like clockwork, and it was the startling deviation from the norm that had Spirit perplexed and was driving him to find his partner almost as much as the desire to share his newfound excitement at the change in the weather.

Most of the students in their building had gone home for the holidays, but both Stein and Spirit had declined that privilege, neither offering any explanation to the other. And Spirit was glad for his decision, knowing the snow wasn't anything he would have seen otherwise.

"Stein?" he whispered, peering into the darkened bathroom but already fairly certain of what he would find. Every stall door was open, the showers and sinks were silent, and the lights were off.

Spirit stuck his lip out in annoyance at the same time his brow furrowed in worry. He'd wanted to enjoy the experience of the fresh falling snow with his meister. But as Spirit turned to walk toward the front door concern began to overtake his initial elation. Just where was the boy?

It wasn't that he didn't think Stein couldn't handle himself; the few combat training classes they'd already had proved that he could. But the meister was just so young, and he looked it. Spirit was barely thirteen and this was the first time he'd been on his own, but in the few months they'd been roommates he could tell that the silver-haired ten-year-old was already accustomed to fending for himself.

Spirit had no background on his meister, and the boy was distant without being blatantly rude. He seemed to genuinely not know how to interact with their peers along with something else Spirit couldn't yet place. But the teen was patient, and Lord Death had specifically chosen Stein to be his meister. That alone was worth everything.

He pushed through the front door of the dormitory and a biting chill rushed in along with a few flurries of snow. Spirit grinned, a chuckle rumbling in his chest as he closed his eyes and took in the feel of the ice hitting his face like unforeseen kisses, softly leaving their mark before vanishing and stirring his thoughts toward the ethereal and imaginative. There was a promise of something new in the snowfall, and Spirit wanted to take advantage of every moment of it.

He stepped fully through the door and into the wall of white, his boots almost soundless as they pushed through the drift that had already built up in the uncovered entryway. And that’s when he saw the single point of color: a telltale shock of silver hair.

Next to one of the benches that lined the sidewalk to the dorms knelt Franken Stein. Snow had collected in a thin layer atop his head, shoulders, and the backs of his legs, though one could hardly tell for the plain white pajamas he wore, causing the boy to be almost invisible in the newly whited-out landscape. He was bent over some small mechanical device placed on the bench, his concentration so full that he didn’t notice when Spirit closed the door. Another point of color were the pale soles of his feet; he wasn’t wearing any shoes.

“Stein?” Spirit asked in surprise, hurrying forward. His delight at the weather had wholly evaporated at the sight of his young meister barely clothed out in the cold. “What are you doing?”

The boy didn’t reply, but scowled at whatever it was he was looking at. He reached for the device and Spirit recognized a microscope as he approached. Stein had picked up a small glass slide, and Spirit watched as he leaned back from the bench to slowly wipe it on the hem of his shirt, and then hold it out to catch a few falling snowflakes. His hands shook as he replaced it under the lens and quickly leaned down again, turning the focus knob to bring his subjects into clarity. As Spirit finally stopped next to the bench he could see it wasn't just Stein's hands, but his entire frame shaking from head to toe, and his usually colorless lips were a frightening shade of blue.

“Stein!” Spirit cried in protest, his voice rising in pitch.

“Don’t breathe.”

Spirit blinked, the harsh but monotone directive confusing his train of thought.

“What?” he asked, but held his breath nonetheless.

“They melt too fast if you breathe.”

Spirit rapidly went through the arguments in his head that he wasn't even near the snowflakes on the slide, and that Stein himself was so cold now that he'd be surprised if he had any warmth left in his lungs. But none of those words came out as somehow, as always, he was drawn like a magnet to his meister's side and knelt down, curiosity rising in him despite the chill beginning to penetrate his coat.

"What are you looking at?"

"The structure of the snowflakes."

Spirit looked at the cluster of white that had in fact already begun to melt on the slide under the lens, and then back to his meister, his face hidden as he stared down through the microscope.

"So far they are perfectly symmetrical and each one has six branches, but no two are alike. The probability of two being the same eventually is strong, but..."

Stein stopped suddenly, and Spirit watched the meister move his hand away from the focusing knob, place it between his thighs where his left hand was already hidden.

Spirit frowned.

"Get up."

"What?"

Stein was still peering into the microscope.

"Get up or I'm picking you up."

That got the meister's attention. His eyes snapped to Spirit's, confusion overlaid by defiance and something else hard and threatening. It had only been three months, but it had taken less than a day of acquaintance for Spirit to learn that the boy would not tolerate being touched without express permission.

"You can't do this like this," Spirit continued. "You're going to freeze to death."

Stein's expression didn't change.

"If you want to be helpful you could get me a notebook to record my findings. You don't have a camera, do you?"

Each word was spoken through trembling blue lips, and Spirit noticed that the rest of the boy's unnaturally pale skin was rapidly changing hue. His heart began racing as he made his decision, not knowing what the ramifications would be but knowing that he had no choice.

Stein didn't speak when Spirit stood, but when the weapon's gloved hands came down under the meister's armpits he jerked away with a strength Spirit wouldn't have thought him capable.

"Don't touch me!" was the protest that sounded before the boy began fighting back, pushing and beating against Spirit's shoulders, but the weapon was determined.

It was a battle of hands and arms and legs and feet as he half-fought, half-dragged Stein back into the dormitory hall, tuning out every word of protest that was laid against him with each step. He only finally paid attention again when Stein managed to free one arm just inside the door and landed a glancing blow against Spirit's cheek.

He shuddered in response, not letting go but halting the movement of his feet. The hit may not have fully connected, but it was still hard and for a moment the world was spinning and Spirit's only point of focus were his hurried breaths and the heavier panting of the younger boy upon whom he still had an iron grip.

When his eyes refocused on Stein's face the meister appeared shocked—quite the change from his typically guarded expression—but his skin was still unnaturally blue, and there was something off about his eyes even past the unusual expression. It sent a wash of fear through Spirit that rapidly overrode the pain of the punch.

He reached past Stein and kicked the door closed hard.

"Stein. I'm not going to let you die out there because you were too stupid to get dressed before running out to play in the snow."

"I... I wasn't..." Stein began, still breathless and something definitely off about his vision.

Spirit ignored the pulsing of pain in his cheek and while Stein was distracted, he scooped the smaller boy up like he would a toddler and stalked hurriedly down the hall.

"Hey! Stop it!" was Stein's weak protest this time, and Spirit noted he was struggling a lot less than when they'd been pushing through the ankle-deep snow outside.

When he reached the bathroom he all but dropped Stein for how much he was twisting to escape. When the meister's feet hit the tile he slipped on his wet, bare soles and would have hit the floor had Spirit not still had his hands on him. Stein clung to Spirit's arms in surprise, not having expected the backward plunge, and when Spirit had righted them both he finally let go.

He reached back to hit the light switch and Stein flinched away, holding a hand up to cover his eyes as his breaths still came far too heavily for the minimal exertion of the struggle to get indoors. When he finally squinted at Spirit his expression fell to shock again. It finally occurred to the red-head that there was something other than the fact that he'd interrupted Stein's ill-conceived experimenting that had shaken the boy, and he turned around to see his face in the mirror.

Spirit nearly gasped for how utterly terrified he looked. Terrified and furious, perhaps in a way that his young partner had never seen another person look before, if the way it froze the boy in place was any indication.

Spirit knew he needed to calm down, calm his expression and be reasonable so he could explain to his meister just how dangerous his actions had been. But as he turned back to face the boy he only felt the anger swell to a greater presence in his soul.

Stein's clothes were nearly soaked through, the white of the pajamas turned gray from moisture and his hair darker for it. The color of his skin was wrong. He was visibly shaking from head to toe, and his vision was hazy and seeming unable to really see Spirit even though his eyes hadn't left the red-head since the moment he'd let him go.

Spirit opened his mouth to speak, but the movement of his jaw caused his cheek to sting where Stein had punched him. He hissed and reached his fingers up to the spot before jabbing his other arm past Stein to point, the motion causing the boy to jump.

"Get in there," he commanded coolly, his voice low and laced with threat. "Get under some hot water and sit down. I'm going to get you some dry clothes."

Stein's expression of shock remained, the boy still frozen by the look on Spirit's face. They remained unmoving for several moments, but when the meister's breaths began to even out he finally turned toward the showers to comply with the weapon's words.

It wasn't until Stein had fully obeyed, letting the shower run until the water was warm and then stepping under the stream and sitting down to lean against the tiled wall, that Spirit finally turned to go.

He let his anger carry his feet briskly back toward their shared bedroom, blindly going through the motions once there of making Stein's bed, dragging the only spare blanket from the closet to place atop it, and then yanking his own bedding free to add on top of that. Horrible scenarios were racing through his head of what he might have found out in the snow instead of his insatiably curious young meister studying the patterns of snowflakes had he slept in a little later, or decided to enjoy the surprise of the weather from the comfort of his bed.

Spirit stopped abruptly from where he'd been casting off his winter outerwear and blinked at nothing as the realization struck.

Stein had been looking at snowflakes.

The fear crashed fully over Spirit's anger, obliterating it as the teen sat down on the floor and began to cry. He could have lost his meister, might still lose him, because the boy had been just as excited about the snow as he was.

If he hadn't immediately gone outside to play...

Spirit didn't know how long he cried, but the sudden realization that he could still lose Stein drove him back to the present. He didn't know anything about frostbite or hypothermia or any other manner of freezing-induced ailments. They were all alone in the dorm and he had no one to call for help since everyone had left for the holidays. And just how long had he left Stein alone in the shower with his vision hazy and his pallor looking near death?

Spirit stood so fast it made him dizzy, made his cheek throb where he'd been hit, and he rummaged through Stein's drawers until he finally found the boy's thicker socks for winter assignments along with underwear and more pajamas. As an afterthought he grabbed his own thick bathrobe and then both of their towels before turning to run back down the hall.

He slowed his step before entering the bathroom, terrified of what he might find. At least he could still hear the shower running, but...was that a good sign? Instead of entering he peered cautiously around the doorjamb.

Stein looked exactly as Spirit had left him, seated against the tile and curled tightly in on himself as the warm water poured over him. His arms were folded atop his raised knees and his hands were tight in fists, and his face was hidden where it lie on his arms. Spirit licked his lips and took a cautious step forward, and then another. There was no reaction from the meister.

Spirit paused, took in a silent breath...and then he flicked his eyes sideways to the mirror. He didn't look angry anymore, although he could still see it rise behind his eyes the moment he thought about it. No, now he looked every bit as scared as he felt, perhaps even more than when he'd drug Stein back indoors, and his eyes were bloodshot and puffy from crying.

Any other time Spirit would have been annoyed by his transparency, but since it had seemingly helped to get his meister to comply he decided he didn't care.

He turned back toward the small, gray form in the shower, felt his heart rate quicken as he mustered the courage to speak.

"Stein?"

Stein lifted his head.

The relief Spirit felt was enough to make his knees go weak, and he leaned on the counter to steady himself as he set the clothing down and draped the two towels over his arm. He sucked in a few breaths, looked up to the mirror again and saw a brightness fitting itself behind the fear in his eyes, and he grimaced before turning to approach the meister.

"You, uh... You ready to come out of there?"

Stein didn't respond, only watched Spirit's approach, watched him stop about five feet distant, his expression having returned to its usual dull, esoteric impassivity. And as his eyes locked on Spirit's the red-head thought he looked even more withdrawn than before. But, blessedly, perhaps less hazy.

He didn't know if staying under the warm water longer would be better or worse for Stein's recovery, but his own anxiety couldn't stand the inaction. He pursed his lips and stepped forward, reaching around the stream to turn the water off.

Stein slowly began pushing himself upright, his eyes not having left Spirit's face even to blink.

"Uh...here," Spirit said, holding out the two towels. After a moment, Stein slowly reached across the distance to receive them. "There's clothes on the counter, uh..."

Spirit realized he needed to give the meister some privacy to change, and he thought quickly.

"I'll go get you something warm to drink. I'll uh...I'll be right back."

Spirit turned and hurried out of the bathroom as quickly as he could, making long strides down the hallway.

The tiny kitchen that could hardly be called such was at the other end of the building, and Spirit didn't want the meister out of his sight for any longer than was necessary just in case there was some delayed danger to whatever cold-induced condition he'd brought upon himself.

As Spirit passed the main entry he took careful steps to avoid the melted snow that had found its way inside from the struggle through the doorway, and then something occurred to him that halted his rush.

He turned and dashed back out into the icy air, his breath catching instantly as cold assaulted his body. He grimaced at the irony that it was now he who was under-dressed and risking himself in the elements, but he picked his way through the piling snow to the bench where the microscope was gathering a larger collection of specimens than it was designed for. Spirit tucked the freezing object safely against his chest and hurried back inside to be free of the snow falling into his face and the chill already seeming to seep into his bones.

He didn't hesitate but to close the door behind him, and then took the microscope the rest of the way down the hall and into the small kitchen.

Inside the narrow room he quickly opened the freezer and considered a moment before pulling out a few boxes of frozen meals left by other students to make space, and then he carefully placed the heavy instrument inside. He turned the freezer's temperature lower and then quickly closed it, blowing into his hands to warm them as he tried to remember his original purpose, his mind still awash with fear.

The microwave dinners on the counter was what returned his focus, and he quickly filled two mugs with water and set them to heat as he considered the beverage options. It took less than ten seconds to decide on tea, considering he didn't even know if there was hot cocoa mix around and he still really didn't want Stein out of his sight any longer than necessary.

Another thought occurred to him as he watched the microwave's timer tick down, and he turned and ran silently on his toes back to the bedroom. Once inside he didn't even look before diving for the box sticking out from beneath Stein's bed, and sure enough it was the box the microscope had been housed in. He carefully removed every delicate glass slide that remained tucked in the Styrofoam, and then cradling them gently, he ran back to the kitchen.

Once there he opened the freezer and carefully brushed a few snow clusters from the microscope onto each slide, including the one still beneath the lens which he removed. He brushed the remaining snow off the instrument into the freezer, and then carefully lifted the heavy device out.

He was methodically drying it with a dish towel as the microwave sounded completion, which he ignored in favor of caring for the delicate equipment. He didn't know for sure that moisture would damage it, but it seemed a fair guess, and he went at its crevices carefully with paper towels until the microwave beeped a second time.

He realized with a jolt that he had left Stein alone for well over five minutes now between all he'd been occupied with, and he hurriedly grabbed the mugs from the microwave and then pocketed a small handful of tea bags and sugar packets from the basket on the counter next to the stove.

He forced himself to keep his pace to a brisk walk this time, mindful of the steaming mugs in his hands. He was so lost in the anxiety of too many what-ifs and the need to hurry, hurry, hurry that he almost bumped into his meister as the younger boy was standing waiting outside their bedroom door, chin dipped low to his chest. Spirit gasped and startled back a step, then hissed as a splash of hot water hit his hand.

The meister had no reaction to Spirit's pain, looking downright sullen in the oversized bathrobe. But Spirit noticed his hands were tucked deeply into the pockets, and his hair was still wet although it showed signs of having been towel-dried.

"Stein..." Spirit breathed, continuing his visual assessment; was he imagining it, or was Stein's skin less blue?

The boy met his eyes through a curtain of damp hair, and Spirit sighed. As ever, his young meister was unreadable, except Spirit knew that somehow, in some measure...Stein was very displeased with him.

"Come on. You're getting into bed."

Spirit carefully gestured with one mug, and he expected to have to put forth an argument, but atypically Stein simply obeyed. Spirit watched for a moment, and then followed the boy a few steps inside the door and pulled it closed with his heel. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until his chest began to burn, and he let the air out slowly in hopes of not drawing Stein's attention.

The meister had paused in the center of the room, clearly making note of all the changes and liberties Spirit had taken before he seemed to resign himself to his fate and climb into his bed. But instead of lying down, Stein shifted his pillows up against the wall to sit and face Spirit's bed and the window on the wall between them. Once he was settled with too many blankets piled atop his lap and tucked up to his chest, hands buried deep inside the cocoon he'd made, he drew his knees up and shifted his eyes to settle on the window. Spirit didn't need to look to know it was still heavily snowing, and his breath hitched again when Stein slowly dragged his dull gaze back to him.

Spirit covered the gesture with a slight cough and then stepped forward to set the mugs on Stein's desk.

"Do you like sugar in your tea? And uh..." He pulled his small hoard from his pocket, some of the packets falling to the floor in the process. "I grabbed... Earl Grey, chamomile, mint, peach oolong... What's oolong..."

"Mint," Stein replied quietly, and Spirit realized it was the first word his partner had spoken since he'd deposited him unhappily in the dorm's bathroom.

"Sugar?" Spirit asked, after putting the tea bag into one mug.

"No, thank you."

The meister's voice was somehow more void of inflection than usual, and Spirit felt his stomach twist in unease as he ripped into one of the packets of sugar for his own mug and poured it in. He realized he'd forgotten to grab any stirring sticks and stepped back to his own desk to procure a pen to use as a substitute. He had decided on the peach oolong, the only other flavor appealing to him being the mint, but apparently he'd given the sole bag to Stein.

When he stepped nearer the meister's bed to hand him the tea, it was a moment before Stein moved to extricate his hands from the blanket-nest he seemed to be burrowing deeper within. His fingers brushed against Spirit's when he wrapped them around the mug's handle and the distinct chill the weapon felt at the contact set his heart racing in fear again. Stein had been under a hot stream of water for at least fifteen minutes if not longer, but he was still cold. Should Spirit have let him stay there longer? Was that even the right thing to do?

Spirit felt his head begin to ache and he rubbed his brow, feeling the pinch of his skin where it twisted in worry. He absently stirred the sugar into his mug with the back of the pen and tried to push his feet out of his boots. The laces were too tight however, and the result was him stumbling against his mostly-stripped bed and barely preventing the tea from spilling as he lost his balance entirely, his knees hitting the floor hard.

He cursed under his breath and then bit his lip in regret. His young meister had likely never heard such foul language, and he shouldn't be the one to introduce him to it.

He set his tea on the windowsill and then reached down to loosen his bootlaces just enough to tug them off, and then pushed himself back on his bed against the wall in a mirror of Stein's pose. The room was still chilled from the window having been open all night, and he shivered despite himself as he drew his knees up high to his chest, tucking his hands under his rear for warmth.

It was only after another shiver that he let his gaze travel across the room to meet his meister's eyes. The boy looked slightly more curious than he had before, but overall he still appeared more detached than the weapon was used to seeing. What Spirit didn't know and wished he did was whether it was just from the upset at his pulling him away from his fun, or if it meant the fun had already had a dire consequence.

"Uh..." Spirit said, feeling suddenly very awkward. Stein lifted his head slightly, sipped from the tea, but his expression didn't change. "Are you, uh... How are you feeling?"

Stein stared at him blankly, and while Spirit thought three months had gotten him used to how unfeeling the meister seemed from his countenance, he realized that it only counted in a predictable context. In class or on a mission, Spirit was learning what to expect. But Stein was about as antisocial as anyone he'd ever met, and it suddenly pressed against his mind just how little he really knew about the boy he lived and partnered with.

"Cold," Stein finally said, so quiet Spirit almost didn't hear.

He looked at just how very small Stein looked wearing the large bathrobe, bundled as deeply into the blankets as he could get while still upright. His hair was looking less wet but still a darker shade of gray than its usual mystifying silver. When he lifted the mug to take another sip of tea, Spirit noted how small the meister's hands were as they clutched tightly to the cup for the extra heat.

He tried not to think of Stein as a child. He hardly thought of himself as more than that, when he was honest with himself. But between the two he was the far elder and more experienced, and as the weapon it was his responsibility to protect his meister. Even from himself.

Spirit glanced away and out at the snow falling less in thick curtains now and more just in scattered flakes, still dense but allowing a view toward the other dormitory buildings before the scene faded into a white haze beyond which he knew the rest of Death City rose up above the sand. But for the moment it was as if the tiny bedroom existed separate from the rest of the world, and Spirit and Stein the only two people in it.

"Have you, ah...ever seen snow before?" Spirit continued, fishing for conversation.

Stein looked up past the rim of the mug again, seeming to analyze Spirit with every question, and then shook his head no.

Spirit swallowed under the scrutiny, and continued. "I've seen it a couple of other times, but...nothing like this."

The red-head shivered again and watched the way the flakes fell, most tiny and notably slower than rain, but others in large clumps that hurried past their smaller companions. It was captivating, and when he turned back to Stein the boy had resumed looking out the window.

"I had hoped we would see it on the assignment to Alaska, but...then that got canceled," Spirit said, dropping his gaze to the gray of his jeans.

There was still only silence in response, and this time Spirit let it linger, only briefly lifting his eyes a couple of times to find Stein still watching the display through the window. The curiosity in the boy's eyes had turned to something deeper; there was a longing now, and endless questions racing somewhere behind the brilliant, green eyes.

Spirit's gaze snapped up to focus as he realized with a flood of relief that the clarity was returning to Stein's vision. It had to be a sign, he hoped, that the surprise winter wasn't going to steal the life of his young meister after all.

The red-head looked at the window again and sniffed once, his nose starting to run due to the cold air in the room. The wonder and beauty of the snowfall began to fade as he considered again the terrifying possibilities of what could have happened. Suddenly the soft, white landscape seemed just as barren as the desert sands.

And yet...

"I'm sorry."

When he looked away from the window Stein was watching him, his brow risen in slight surprise. Spirit dropped his gaze as he shivered, moving his arms to wrap around himself and tuck his fingers under his armpits. He focused on the lines of denim across his knees as his eyes burned with the threat of tears, hoping that in saving his young meister he hadn't irreparably damaged their relationship when it had hardly started.

It was true they had been able to resonate practically immediately upon partnering, surprising everyone except Lord Death. But Spirit knew that the road ahead of them would require far more from them both than the superficial connection they had made so far. And in dealing so harshly with the boy, he could have undone their three months together and hurt the chances for their future.

"I'm not sorry for saving you, Stein. I was just so scared, and... Your face was all..." He gestured briefly to the still-unhealthy hue to the boy's skin. "But I... I probably could have...done that differently... And, you're not stupid. I shouldn't have said that. Sorry."

He didn't look up, only pressed further back against the wall and tucked one set of toes under the other in search for warmth as he became more aware of the chill to the room. He suddenly realized that since all of the students had been expected to go home, the heating had likely been shut off to the dormitory. That, in addition to his window having been open all night to the unexpected winter weather, explained the bitter chill he was feeling in the usually comfortable room. It wouldn't reach dangerous temperatures, but it was still a bit much for the simple jeans and t-shirt Spirit had hurried into after waking.

Stein didn't reply, and Spirit sniffled again, grateful the cold air at least gave him an excuse as he fought back tears. His mind began racing with a whole new set of horrible fears. What if Stein decided he didn't want to be his partner after this?

"You didn't need to give me your blankets and pillows."

Spirit sniffled again and looked up. Stein was watching him and the weapon studied his blue-gray pallor, the rising brightness in his eyes. He swallowed the lump in his throat as concerns of illness rose and shook his head.

"You need them more than me."

Spirit had no sooner rested his cheek—the uninjured one—on his knee, than he heard faint slurping across the room. He raised his head again to see Stein tilting the mug all the way back and finishing the tea, after which he settled his head back against the wall, continuing to clutch the now-empty mug. He shivered.

Spirit frowned and considered offering to microwave another mug, and then looked at his own forgotten tea on the windowsill. Steam was still rising from the liquid.

He slowly uncurled himself from against the wall, feeling the little warmth he had gathered seep away in seconds as he slid his feet back to the floor and picked up the mug.

"Here, I didn't drink any," he said when he offered it, Stein's brow rising, and then, "...Oh."

He pulled out the pen he'd used to stir the sugar in and frowned, making a mental note for the future that Stein preferred his tea without the sweetener. After a moment the boy reached out with a shaking hand and they exchanged mugs. Spirit set the used one on Stein's desk with the pen inside before turning back toward his bed.

"You can sit here."

Spirit stopped and looked at the meister, blinking in confusion as he failed to process the words.

"What?"

There was silence for a moment, the weapon watching the meister's small hands clutching tightly to the cup for the warmth it provided as he sipped the steaming liquid. Then the green-eyed gaze rose again.

"You can sit here, too."

Spirit's mind slowly pieced the meaning of the words together, his brow rising in surprise as he considered. It wasn't the sort of offer he would have expected from the meister in any typical situation, and especially not after he'd manhandled him indoors and ordered him around. But he was growing too cold too fast to find any reason to protest, and after a moment he climbed onto the bed and pulled the blankets back to tuck himself in next to Stein, his back against the wall and a few inches of space between them.

Stein tugged one of the pillows from behind him and pushed it toward the weapon, and Spirit gratefully shoved it behind his back, his spine instantly feeling the relief. He adjusted the blankets perhaps more than was necessary, making sure Stein still had enough to bury as deeply beneath them as he wanted, but grateful for the added warmth immediately.

The view out the window wasn't nearly as good as it was from his own bed, but at least Stein had the better position to continue watching the snowfall. He peripherally observed the meister take another tentative sip of the tea, purse his lips at the taste, and then balance the mug on his knees, both hands still wrapped tightly around it.

Spirit sighed lightly. If nothing else, at least it would help keep Stein's hands warm.

"Thanks," Spirit said quietly, suddenly finding he couldn't meet the meister's eyes. After the way he'd treated him, Stein's kindness was startling, and he wasn't sure how to respond other than accept the offered protection from the cold and continue to hope the younger boy would be all right.

"My microscope cost almost three hundred dollars."

Spirit was startled by the non sequitur and turned to look at the meister. The boy's eyes, definitely no longer glazed, were hardened in the way they looked when they were in class and he was frustrated by something their professor was saying. Spirit swallowed nervously just before words bubbled out of him faster than his brain could keep up.

"I was very careful, I promise! I didn't touch the lenses and I got every crevice. I even went over it twice to make sure it was dry!"

Stein had turned to look at him during the rush of words, and it took Spirit a moment to realize his expression had changed. The hardness had left his eyes, his usual aloofness now the dominant expression, but there was question and curiosity and surprise hidden beneath it. The boy's lips were parted, his jaw ever so slightly slack as he stared unblinking back at Spirit. The intensity of it startled Spirit so much that his words stopped for a moment before he licked his dry lips and fumbled for something else to say.

"And I...I put snow on each slide for you to look at later. They're in the freezer, I turned it down so they shouldn't melt. Sorry I... I should have asked before touching your things. I'm sorry."

Spirit licked his lips again and looked down. He should apologize for going through Stein's clothing too, he knew, but he was suddenly feeling very self-conscious and like he was the one under the lens of a microscope as Stein continued staring at him.

He thought the three months had gone well, all things considered. He wasn't used to being around someone as stoic as the partner he'd been assigned, but he had been trying very hard to learn what made the boy tick and how to be the best partner he could, responding to the meister's quirks and for the most part simply staying out of his way since privacy was what Stein seemed to value most. And Spirit had violated that repeatedly that morning.

He suddenly felt a yawn coming and restrained the action with effort. As his heart raced with the excess of nerves he glanced over to check the time on Stein's alarm clock on his small nightstand. It was just after eight o'clock. He chewed some of the dry skin from his lower lip and considered how to voice the question pressing against his mind after the embarrassing outburst of moments before.

It turned out he didn't have to, because when he turned back he found Stein had been following his gaze.

"I was outside before seven," Stein offered.

Something was different about his tone, and Spirit shifted his gaze to meet his partner's. Stein's expression had changed again to something the weapon had never seen and didn't know how to interpret. His eyes had lost the hardness almost entirely and seemed to be seeking something. Before Spirit could even try to figure it out, Stein surprised him again by handing him the mug of tea. He took a sip and then immediately a larger swallow as the liquid coated his throat, soothing some of the strain he hadn't realized was there as he continued worrying.

When he returned the cup to let Stein keep using it to warm his hands, his fingers brushed against the meister's cooler ones. He frowned at the contact and looked away, his gaze flitting between the window and the clock as he worried.

He wanted to believe that Stein would be fine. But he'd been out in the snow for over an hour and his hands were still cold, despite the heat of the shower, despite having been wrapped around the mugs of hot tea for several minutes.

Spirit felt the sting of coming tears again. He bit his cheeks in attempt to fight off the instinct, let his eyes dart over the room in search of some anchor that would help distract him from the fears and anxiety swirling through his soul. But just as he felt his emotions would collapse, Stein surprised him once more.

"I'm sorry I hit you."

Spirit's brow rose. He had nearly forgotten about the glancing punch and lifted his fingers to lightly press to his cheek. The flesh was tender, but it was nothing like the hits he'd taken in their combat classes or on missions. Of course those were different too, having been taken in weapon form.

"It's okay," he answered.

Stein was looking up at him almost like he'd never seen him before. The curiosity in his eyes was different somehow—not the clinical gaze he favored most things with, nor the apathy that came after the boy determined something held no value to him. There seemed to be almost more color to his eyes as they remained locked on the weapon's, and fascinated by the meister appearing so human, Spirit held his gaze.

The fear that had been consuming him changed somehow, under the inquisitive look that Stein had set upon him. The situation no longer felt hopeless or beyond control. In fact, the way his meister was looking at him now, his eyes held perhaps more life than Spirit had ever seen.

"Hey, ah..." he said, his voice quivering suddenly from an emotion he couldn't place. "When you're feeling better, maybe we could have a snowball fight."

Confusion joined the curiosity that Stein had fixed him with.

"...Snowball fight?"

Spirit smiled. "Yeah. You make balls out of the snow, and throw them at each other. For fun. Snowball fight."

Stein finally blinked, once, but didn't break eye contact. The intensity of his gaze was starting to feel unnerving, but Spirit found he couldn't look away. Not when he was so worried. And not after the long months of trying so hard to understand the enigmatic, private boy. Something had finally seemed to spur the beginnings of a mutual connection, and he wasn't about to waste the opportunity.

"Or...or maybe build a snowman?" he suggested, realizing suddenly that throwing hard-packed snow at his meister after nearly freezing was probably not a good idea, even if it would be several hours later. "I've always wanted to play in the snow..."

Stein continued to stare at him. He offered the tea to Spirit again, who took it and only sipped from the mug this time, not wanting to steal away the hot liquid that was helping Stein warm his hands. He held the eye contact, and Stein didn't so much as blink even after the mug was handed back.

Spirit began to feel self-conscious under the meister's gaze, though he couldn't determine why. He reached up to run his fingers through his hair and watched Stein's eyes follow the motion, linger on the spot where he'd briefly scratched his head, and then slowly return to his face again.

"O-Or...if you just want to play with your microscope, that's fine too. We don't have to play together, if you don't want to. I was just thinking—"

"Okay."

The train of Spirit's thoughts that had started running out of control was suddenly halted.

"Huh?"

"A snowball fight sounds interesting."

Stein abruptly handed the mug back to Spirit, who blinked and sipped from it obediently; the tea had begun to cool. Stein's eyes finally left Spirit's face, and he buried his hands under the blanket and tucked it up higher to his chin as he turned his gaze toward the window.

Spirit looked back to find that the snow was falling in thick curtains again. If Stein did feel up to going out later, at least there would be no lack of the stuff to play in.

He leaned his head back against the wall, sipped the sweet tea again, and sighed. He felt Stein look up at him, but he kept his gaze on the window. Part of him wanted to fill the space with talk about the few times he'd seen snow in the past, but a wave of tiredness was hitting him rapidly. For once the best choice seemed simply to remain silent. He was sure Stein would appreciate it.

His eyelids began to feel heavy as he stared at the continuous rain of white flakes that left the room feeling small and isolated, and he realized he was no longer focusing on holding the mug. He swallowed down the last of the cooling liquid and then reached to set the mug down on Stein's nightstand. He knew he shouldn't doze off sitting in the meister's bed, especially since he should still be watching him to make sure his health wasn't in jeopardy. But the snowfall was hypnotic, and coupled with the sugar and the rising warmth from the blankets, and probably an adrenaline crash, it was suddenly very hard to keep his eyes open.

"It's pretty."

Spirit blinked and glanced down, surprised to hear the quiet voice. Stein was watching the unusual weather, but then looked up to meet his eyes again. His expression was still curious and seemed more relaxed somehow. The usual, calculating tension was absent from his jaw and forehead, and his green-eyed gaze—brighter now—slowly slid back to the window when Spirit didn't say anything.

Spirit was the one to stare now, noticing that Stein looked less tense overall. Only his head and shoulders were visible above the blankets, but he wasn't holding himself coiled up anymore the way he so often did, like a snake ready to strike. An ease that Spirit wasn't sure he'd ever before seen in the boy had settled over him, and he looked far more his young age as he looked out the window, his thoughts apparently having drifted back to scientific interests rather than being upset with the weapon.

"Yeah," Spirit said.

Stein glanced up briefly, as if expecting more, then returned his gaze to the snowfall. And then, wide-eyed and curious as he appeared staring out at the world of white, he yawned.

Spirit slowly let his head rest against the wall again as he watched his meister, and he smiled.

[wuxian-vs-wangji]

I would like to share with you a story from my time at Yonsei University in South Korea:

The Americans arrived about 4-5 days early, giving everyone a few schedule-free days to deal with jetlag and get acclimated before our Korean roommates arrived.

First semester, I had issues with my roommates keeping the room insanely hot (like, they kept the room so hot that laptops would overheat), mainly via the floor heater. My roommates had more flaws than good points and were actually banned from the program for academic reasons.

All I was told about second semester was that they actually put special focus on who my roommates would be, as a sort of apology for how bad mine were.

So, second semester, my first roommate arrives, a small and adorably doll-like girl whose English name was Sophia. Sweet, cute, almost cartoonishly high-pitched voice. She comes in and in the most angelic tone goes "Do you like it hot or cold?" I answered cold, and she grinned and said "Me too!" and walked over to the coil where the floor heater connected to power, slammed her designer stiletto heel into it so hard the whole thing dented at a right angle, and destroyed that thing, never to work again.

Then very sweetly and just as cheerfully said "Oops! It was like that when we both arrived :)"

And like, yeah, sure, whatever you say, psychopath who is now sleeping 3 feet from my skull.

Sophia had arrived early, the other 2 roommates were coming the next morning, and so we go to bed about an hour after meeting.

At 2 in the morning, I wake up to feel someone touching me. Sophia was pulling my blankets up to my chin (they'd apparently fallen when I rolled over). In a white nightgown with long black hair obscuring her face, illuminated only by a sliver of light through the curtains like a demon from a horror movie.

And in her sweet, high-pitched Poppy Playtime kind of doll-like voice she sing-songs "Sssh~ Go to sleep~~~"

I have never gone

from 97% asleep

to so very wide awake

so quickly

in my entire life.

[somber-sapphic]

Compromised System

〘Day 3- "What happened to that phenomenal immune system, huh?"〙

〘Notes- This is drastically unedited and thrown together at the last second. The colors are also different because I forgot to save them. Oops.〙

〘Summary- When Lena gets sick, she really gets sick.〙

〘Word Count- 550〙

〘Pairing- Sick Lena x Reader〙

〚Main Masterlist〛⌶〚Sicktember Masterlist〛

You sighed and tucked a stray lock of Lena’s raven hair behind her ear, out of her sweaty face. Her chapped lips were parted slightly, each breath a bit raspy. Every so often you would grab a tissue to wipe her runny nose, accepting the fact that the woman was in no shape to do so herself.

Lena wasn’t even protesting, in fact, she wasn’t moving. She would open her eyes every so often to prove that she was awake but didn’t seem to care in the slightest that you were coddling her.

You dipped the cloth that had been resting on her forehead back into the cool basin of water on the bedside and brushed it across her skin, wiping away the sweat. She smiled slightly at the cool touch and licked her lips, working hard on preparing to speak.

“Thank you, Y/n.,” Lena croaked, words a mere whisper over the sound of Titanic playing in the background. The brunette wasn’t watching, neither of you were, but she had insisted that you put it on before she collapsed into bed.

Not being one to argue with your girlfriend, especially when she was sick, you’d done as she’d asked. It was roughly three fourths of the way into the movie, and you were incredibly bored. When you had looked it up on IMDB and seen it was 3 hours you had hoped she’d fall asleep soon so that you could turn it off. That wasn’t the case.

“Of course, my love. What happened to that phenomenal immune system of yours, huh?” You teased half-heartedly, your heart heavy with worry and guilt. You had given her this flu; it had been your fault. Of course, you hadn’t been nearly as sick. Probably due to the wonderful care of the beautiful woman laying in front of you.

“Mmm.” She hummed, shrugging under the pile of blankets. You were being incredibly careful in monitoring the CEO’s temperature, removing, and adding blankets as her shivering changed in intensity and frequency. Thankfully, although she was basically a vegetable, Lena’s temperature hadn’t gone above 102 degrees.

“Yeah, I think so too.” You replied, repositioning the cloth across her forehead. She had fought you on it in the beginning, insisting that she was absolutely fine. That had changed after only about ten minutes of her being horizontal.

You could tell that she was beginning to drift off, finally giving into her bodies pleas to sleep. As you sat on the edge of the bed, watching her breathing slow and her chest rise with the deeper breaths, you relaxed. It was easier to calm down knowing that she was asleep.

With one more large sigh, you shifted to sit beside her with your legs on top of the covers. You settled back against the pillows and eased Lena’s head into your lap, smiling to yourself when she instinctively grabbed your pant leg.

Even though she was bedridden now, your joke about her immune system hadn’t been wrong. Typically, it was amazing, she could work for days without sleeping and crash for a day only to end up perfectly fine. You were sure she’d been back to full health in a couple of days and go right back to work.

Only Lena Luthor could go from miserably sick to bouncing around again in a weekend.

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[nativestarwrites]

Number 7 for Ted Lasso?

Thanks for the ask! This one refused to be a drabble, and is closer to a flashfic, oops.

7. "Come on, breathe, breathe, don't you dare--"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It was an accident Roy, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. If it weren’t for you…” Keeley’s voice trailed off. She’d clamped herself to Roy’s side ever since she’d arrived at the hospital, her arm wrapped around his and their fingers intertwined.

Roy wanted to believe her, but she hadn’t been there. She hadn’t seen Jamie fall, his head impacting a rock before he went under the water. Roy had started running the moment it happened, had sprinted when he realised Jamie wasn’t conscious. He knee had already started throbbing in retribution for that.

But he’d been too slow. Too fucking slow.

“He’s going to be fine.” she said, rubbing his arm.

“You don’t know that.” Roy forced out tightly. They didn’t know anything yet, and his breath caught in his chest.

“Hey, c’mon, breathe, babe.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first thing Roy noticed after he’d pulled Jamie out the water was the complete stillness of his chest.

Jamie wasn’t breathing.

“No! No, you don’t do this, Tartt. Come on, breathe!” Roy shouted as he shook Jamie, hoping for a gasp, a cough, an anything.

Don’t do this. Don’t do this. Don’t make me do this. Shitshitshitshit.

Roy’s hands shook as he tilted Jamie’s head back and checked his airway. He could do this. He could do this. Basic first aid. He’d done the course and the refreshers. Taking a deep breath Roy pushed it into Jamie’s lungs.

Because Jamie wasn’t fucking breathing.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Jamie still wasn’t breathing.

Four times.

Five times.

"Come on, breathe, breathe, don't you dare--"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Roy breathed, forcing himself to take in long deep breaths until the anxiety clawing at his insides settled. Keeley murmuring constant reassurances while her worried eyes watched him.

“I don’t know how long he wasn’t--” Roy confessed, it could have been sixty seconds, it could have been six minutes. He’d done a google search when Keeley wasn’t looking. He knew what that difference could make, and it was enough to make him want to throw up.

“You said he was awake, when the paramedics got there, right?”

“Barely.”

He loved that she was trying to be there for him, to inject hope and positivity into a terrifying situation but she hadn’t been there, she hadn’t seen him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jamie gasped.

Hacking and coughing and spluttering and Roy could listen to the harsh, wheezing breaths all day, if it just meant that Jamie kept breathing. Quickly rolling him to his side, Roy pressed his forehead into Jamie’s shoulder, his free hand rubbing his back.

“That’s it, get it all out, Jamie. Just keep breathing, keep fucking breathing.”

Lifting his head, Roy took a proper look at Jamie, brushing back his hair to see his face as his breathing started to even out and the coughs eased a little. His head was still bleeding, rivulets of blood mixing with river water across his forehead and his eyes were still closed, but Roy felt that Jamie was there, he was awake just not entirely there.

“Jamie, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?”

Jamie didn’t move, didn’t open his eyes and didn’t show any sign of hearing Roy, until his hand had reached out, weakly latching onto Roy’s shirt, fingers twisting into the fabric. And stayed there until the paramedics had gently pulled him away.

Roy had gone with him in the ambulance, sat at the bottom of the stretcher, his fingers wrapped around Jamie’s ankle beneath the blanket, promising him he wasn’t alone.

“You’re alright, Jamie, you’re okay. Just breathe.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Family of Mr Tartt?”

“Yes, that’s us.” Keeley quickly answered, Roy nodding mutely next to her as he pushed his exhausted body to his feet, bracing himself for the news they’d been waiting forever for.

“We’re going to be admitting him for observation, but baring any complications, he should be just fine.” She frowned, looking between the two of them. “He did ask if his grandad was waiting for him?”

“Little prick.” Roy whispered, shaking his head, as if it wasn’t the most reassuring thing he’d heard all day. He left Keeley trying to explain to the confused doctor, but Roy didn’t pay any attention after he’d heard the words that he could go see Jamie now. Fucking finally.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jamie was propped up with pillows, pale and exhausted, hooked up to frankly an alarming amount of monitors in Roy’s opinion, but he still opened his eyes when he heard the door and his face lit up when he saw who it was.

“Roy,” he croaked starting to pull the oxygen mask off, but Roy was already there nudging his hand out the way as he pulled him into a hug.

“Leave that alone, you muppet.”

Jamie was warm, dry and breathing in his arms, and at long last, Roy’s head was quiet. Jamie tucked his head into Roy’s shoulder and his hands came up to rest flat against his back, his body trembling ever so slightly. Roy tightened his arms a little, he clearly wasn’t the only one terrified by Jamie’s near-death experience.

“Don’t you ever fucking scare me like that again.”

“I won’t.” came the muffled reply.

Roy didn’t let go.

And Jamie breathed.

[darkmoonkestrel]

daily kestrel 17:

we ended up pulling out the giant 10 ft blanket for the bed last night, we deemed it cold enough (or rather, at least not too hot) to use it, and it was so cozy that i begged off making Peyton's traditional morning iced coffee to get an extra 20 minutes of sleep. had some really weird dreams about like... sanctioned dungeon crawling type of activities? idk how to describe it but it was an interesting alternate universe type of situation

i got to work early today and was bounced around for most of the day, including starting in the cafeteria. i then went to the early 2s room, the older 2s room, my room for a little bit, the kitchen to help unpack a food order, and did breaks for the mobile infants and infants teachers before going back to my room after break. it was a busy day, but overall pretty good. idk how i always end up doing lunch breaks in the mobiles room when it's spaghetti for lunch day though, this is like the third time and those kiddos get spaghetti in places you didn't know it could be (the back of the head??)

i stopped and got myself some whoppers as a little treat on my way home, a reward in advance for going to the optional chat my professor does for my online class every week that i've missed the last few weeks. turns out i was the only one there, so i just ended up chatting with my professor about AI and book banning and class assignments and diversity and stuff for a solid 30 minutes, but i actually enjoyed it, so that was good. at least it absolves my guilt for missing the next few bc I def don't plan to go back to them until the "highly recommended" one next month. i also noticed that my professor had steam on his computer when he was screen sharing with me and i really should have been like "so what do you play" but we were having an Academic™️ conversation so i didn't wanna ruin the vibes

i got Peyton & Paige little treats as well and Peyton's were gummy worms that we ended up using for a three way "throwing them into the other person's mouth" contest, with me still in the office, Paige on the couch, and Peyton in the office doorway alcove. he finally ended up catching one, after several rounds of both me and Paige missing our throws at him and him pelting us with worms. i net positive'd four worms to keep and eat, and one is lost somewhere in the office to be discovered at a later date. it's little things like this that make me appreciate how much i love living with my partners and the daily shenanigans we get up to

i'm still in the office and i was going to finish up this reading assignment for class but i'm not feeling it anymore so I'll just try to knock it out over lunch tomorrow. it is now time for some more slime rancher 2 before bed, and then another early day (7am work this time, so at least Peyton will get his morning coffee tomorrow bc i have to be awake at 6:15 anyway)

ETA: Paige bullied me into wearing my glasses at the house since we were talking about her eye exam tomorrow, and I took a 30 minute break in playing slime rancher to watch cat videos, the true purpose of the internet. i got really far in slime rancher which at my current place in the game just means unlocking a whole bunch of areas to explore, but i am being dragged to bed for my own wellbeing

except we're all super giggly tonight so we're playing around and haven't gone to sleep yet oops