#oh golly that seems like it's fine but whatever ANYWAY

[pastafossa]

Hey Pasta! I was rereading some of the new chapters and wanted to ask when Jane and Matt went from just impressions via thread, to full blown words and conversations?

I was trying to remember if there was a distinct shift, and I'd love to go back and read it if there was!

So while there's definitely a sloooow, gradual build to full conversations, the first time an actual word gets through is in chapter 31! This also happens right before the Away chapters, and as we know, they get a toooooon of practice trying to communicate with words, then, and are up to short sentences by the time she comes back.

BUT LET ME TALK ABOUT THIS WORDBUILDING A LITTLE THO CAUSE IT'S RELEVANT. I intentionally wanted it to feel slow and gradual, the way they go from emotional sensations -> full conversations. Even when they're talking to each other via thread now, they're not actually talking the way we think of it, which is why when you read their conversations, you'll still sometimes see something like this (Ch 134):

Bloodstained lips shifted, shaping a word on his tongue. Even before he spoke it, the air around him seemed to shiver as his intent manifested, his current aligning with yours where it lay quiet. "Mine," he whispered, the word raw smoke and rough city streets, letters a caress on your skin. "Understand?"

This isn't any of the languages we use every day. It's a language built on the bones of emotion, sensation its sound, with intent giving the words form. That's why it's taken them both so long to work up to where they're at now - they've essentially been learning a new language, one in which each word is also a sensation, a memory, and a physical change in the thread world as intent manifests (with stronger intent enacting stronger effects, as Matt almost discovered). It's a language only they can speak (that they know of), although I will confirm they learned it far faster, far more intimately, and far more fluently than anyone In The Know would have expected. Whether that's because they're soulmates, because their thread is just REALLY open now, or because Matt's super senses align perfectly with her abilities is something I'm leaving open for guessing at present.

[l0ganberry]

Golly...... I do love to ramble and I do have a lot of characters that I like. Either if it's recent or old, there's a crap ton. For this though..... I guess I'll talk about one that probably not much people know.

This heroic looking black cat with red attire and a gold legendary katana is named Mao Mao. He's from a Cartoon Network show that I love called Mao Mao: Heroes of Pure Heart.

I almost had low hopes of this show itself on being good because..... It's from Cartoon Network and..... We all know how they are with their shows. (Cough cough...... Teen Titans Go. Cough cough.)

Anyways....... I decided to not be negative this time and watched a few episodes that were out at the time. I watched them when they first came out and they were actually pretty good. The first episode gives off a good story and shares the information on what will we expect later on in the show and who would be the most important characters in the show itself.

(Fucking sucks that they only have one season and that it's only been aired for only ONE YEAR!!!)

From that, you'll see that Mao Mao isn't alone. In fact, he actually has 2 friends/partners/sidekicks (family members since they all work together like a happy family). One of them is a badger cyborg named Badgerclops. And the other is a 5 year old blue bat girl with a yellow peg leg named Adorabat.

All characters throughout the show have amazing backstories and personalities portrayed when all of this was shown in the first season! I call that good writing since jokes, backstories, lessons and summaries of what each episode is about is perfectly balanced.

(Crap.... What was I writing out again? Oh right, Mao Mao. Sorry....)

Mao Mao is a cat but if you're confused by asking "Where is his tail?" Well....... He has a story about that too. Long story short though, he got it smashed off by a boulder. (if you would like to see more on how that happened yourself, the episode that it first mentions that is episode 10 or just Bao Bao's Revenge.)

As you may already guessed, Mao Mao has experienced some insane shit. Mostly in his childhood and during the whole time while he's growing up. Like dude..... Even his dad doesn't acknowledge him well because of all his five older sisters. (THE DAD PLAYS FAVORITES AND IT'S SO OBVIOUS AND SAD LIKE...... AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!)

Other than that, It's easy to relate to him because he makes his main goal of doing all this loud and clear. All he wants to be is an legendary hero. The reason why is because he wants his family to finally acknowledge him, not be seen as small, be understood, be seen as a stronger person than how he's seen and to gain the same acceptance he missed on getting as a child.

(Damn..... I actually have a lot of favorite characters that are like that actually...... Does that say a lot or nah? Naah..... I'm fine..... )

He's actually able to achieve this goal on protecting pure heart by slaying monsters or threats with his friends. And during all of that and the adventures he goes through...... he learns more about himself to being stronger as a fighter, a leader, a friend, a defender and a hero. Especially since his mistakes are made by him just wanting to be better or thinking about his view on how his family would think instead of himself.

I also see Mao Mao as a father figure but only for adorabat because.... They have their moments and it's always either wholesome, heartwarming or what to expect with a relationship of father and daughter moment. ESPECIALLY since Mao Mao sees his child self in Adorabat. So he would do whatever he can to have her not repeat in his own shoes. Examples like, telling Adorabat to be her own hero, acknowledging that she is indeed only a young girl, wanting to protect her and even listening to her without making it seem like he's ignoring her or not interested. Because GIRL!!! HE'S JUST SO 💖💖💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖!! Just watch it yourself and you'll understand.

I'm not sure how you can watch the show though. For me..... I bought all of the episodes on my Google Play Movies & TV so there's that. And I do already know they got rid of it on HBO Max so.... There's that. Now that I think about it.... I think the only way is to buy the episodes or pirate them. So yep......

I did hear some rumors that the show might come back but that's a maybe. The creator/VA for Mao Mao, Parker Simmon has been posting mao mao related things for a couple months this year so that gained my suspicion a bit. Either way, at least I can just rewatched all of the episodes I bought for myself.

Oh! And Also...... the fact his design is so easy to comprehend and draw is just 🤌🤌!! DELICIOUS!!! (I forgot to mention that) I even remember drawing him as a animal crossing character (along with Badgerclops and Adorabat) in middle school but I think I lost them or threw them away.

But yes! I highly recommend Mao Mao as my best favorite character. Let's say...... Top 5? I don't feel like listing all of my favorite characters right now but I can say that Mao Mao is highly one of my favorite characters. (especially since he's on the list of characters I like that are misunderstood or just need a hug. Or a big thing of cobbler since that's what his favorite food is canonly.)

Thank you for reading this ramble of mine about a black cat that I like and that needs hugs and comfort 24/7. Byeee!! ✨✨✨

Oh I sit down and kick my feet.

Inspired by getting to see some of my mutuals favorite characters recently in their art, I wanna make a post where I just ask yall to infodump me about yalls favorite characters who mean a lot to you. Tell me about the blorbos who bring you joy. Let me read your love filled ramblings!

There's a chance I won't reply to everyone, I tend to get sidetracked, but I WILL read them all.

[yourheartonfire]

"If you make me fight you now," the hero said without raising their head from where it rested on their backpack, "I will throw you off this mountain."

"Oh my god, [hero]!" singsonged the villain with their biggest, most shit-eating grin, kicking a brand new hiking boot up on a rock near the hero's head. "Fancy running into you up here!"

The hero groaned and flung an arm over their face. "It's daytime, asshole. What do you want?"

The villain tsked their tongue and swiped a granola bar from the hero's unprotected lunch, open on their lap. "All this suspicion. Can't a person enjoy a little fresh air and sunshine?"

They were mostly saying it to be obnoxious, but it was, in fact, quite lovely if you went in for this sort thing; wind rippling across grassy slopes, the sunshine sparkling off the city towers below, the sky studded with clouds fluffy enough to choke on. There was a steady trickle of day trippers and health nuts marching up and down the trail. One trio of bro-ish dudes had stopped higher up the slope and were blatantly checking the hero out, sniggering amongst themselves. The villain gave them a look over the top of their sunglasses. The bros quickly pretended to be looking elsewhere.

"Fine. Great. Whatever." The hero flapped their hand, as if at insect. "Go get your nature on. Don't let me stop you."

"God, this view!" The villain chomped down on the hero's granola bar. It was good. Hiking was hungry work. Next time they'd bring snacks. Not that there'd be a next time. "Look at that. There's City Hall, and there's the opera house, and... well, golly. Looks like you can just see over the walls and into [Supervillain]'s compound from this angle! What a bizarre coincidence."

The hero sat up, no longer playing at laziness "[Villain]..." they started.

"Hey!" A shadow fell. Both hero and villain snapped their heads up... to find the three hiker bros standing over them. "Hey," the biggest said again to the hero, chest puffed and thumb jabbed at villain. "This guy bothering you?"

The villain bared their teeth and opened their mouth - but the hero was faster. In a half second they were on their feet, their dealing-with-the-public smile on full blast. The lead dude-bro took a half step back.

"Oh you guys are so sweet to check on me," the hero gushed, even as they curled a hand over the villain's forearm possessively. "But we're actually, ah, work colleagues. Just giving each other a bit of friendly shit."

The dude's brow creased. "It seemed like-"

"I do appreciate y'all making sure everything's okay!" the hero sang. "Thank you!"

There was nothing for the bros to do with that but retreat with as much grace as the hero left them and some muttered "glad it's all okay then"s and "have a good one"s.

"Brutal takedown," the villain observed as the trio scurried out of sight. "Work colleagues?"

"Yeah, well." The hero took off their own sunglasses to look villain in the face. The wind whipped strands of hair across their freckled nose, across those brown eyes lit up gold. God, how had it never occurred to the villain before to wonder what hero looked like in the sun, standing on thebside of the mountain? "What are you here to do?" they asked quietly, hand still warm on the villain’s forearm.

The villain pushed their face into a smirk, pulled their arm away from hero's touch to shove their fists into their pockets. "To warn you. I figured out what you're up to and I'm a big dummy compared to [Supervillain]. She probably already knows. She's probably watching us right now."

"Hm." The hero gave villain a pointed up and down look. The villain tried not to gulp. "Did you buy an entire outfit, just to hike up a mountain to give me a warning?"

"Don't blame me for having style," the villain said, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle out of their TENCEL blend shirt before turning their feet back towards the trail down. "Anyway, you're welcome. Try not to get murdered, eh?"

"Hey, [Villain]!" the hero called. The villain stopped but did not turn. They didn't need to. The could feel hero's eyes on their back, could hear the smile in their voice. "I'll see you round, right? Can't let the new outfit go to waste."

"Never doing this again, thanks!" the villain called back, just as jaunty, and left quickly before they, like the dude-bros, flew too close to the sun and got burned for their trouble.

[revirushifaa]

brothers reaction to finding out the MC is a nephilim. Basically half angel half human.

Kay, I had to do a bit of research to this, but I can pull out something. Short HC's because, I'm quite blegh this night(vaccine side effects)

Regardless, enjoy!

-------------------------

Lucifer and MC:

*He knows from the get go that this one isn't a normal one. He has an intuition and when he gets feelings like this, he's always right. So when the human is choosen for the program, he looks neutral.

*So a halfie. Well, he can with that, he's trying to get on the angel's good side after all and he once was an angel before, he'll get on their good side.

*When they show their white wings, it gives him a bit of nostalgia since his wings used to be white and so bright. He ruffles their wings in their intimate times, and they're quite fluffy. It's not so bad to have a human-angel hybrid in the same roof as him.

Mammon and MC:

*What? Half angel half human?! Is that even possible? Wow, this one's really unique in their class, a nephilim coming in to the Devildom, they have angelical abilities. Can they make money out of thin air?!

*He's after them all the time, asking them if they can get him this and that. No Mammon, they're just a hybrid, not a wish granting fairy, they're not that. Quit asking them money.

*He holds them rightly and rubs his cheeks against their wings and smiles joyfully. He misses his own wings, how white and soft they were so with the nephilim MC there, he can get his moments of nostalgia.

Leviathan and MC:

*He has seen nephilims in his games, so he knows what they are, but he didn't expect a REAL nephilim coming in, he thought they were just fictional, guess all fiction can get true. He needs to know if they can make Ruri-chan a real person.

*Again, like Mammon, he gets the delusion that they are just mystic and not wish granting, but either way they're cool, they're not a normie! So there, aha! He can take them, without giving them remarks about 'normies' being boring.

*His shyness is still there, so he goes full tsundere when he's confronted by them about him wanting to cuddle them. But in the end he hugs them when inside his tub-like bed and doesn't let go, his face loving the softness of their wings.

Satan and MC:

*So nephilims are real. His books/novels are real, he's intrigued and invests himself into gathering any knowledge about these cool creatures. So much, he spends night reading and asking MC questions about their specie.

*Finds out that they have the special purr of a cat when given good care to their wings, and this demon loves cats. Perfect for when he wants to try and pet them to show them affection.

*When they do get intimate, it's just Satan caressing their hair, feeling their soft skin and wings. Their wings seem to be the brothers' favorite thing of them, they just spread them and let them all have a turn to touch them.

Asmodeus and MC:

*Oh golly. Aren't this one special? They're both an angel and a human, precious! As the lustful one he often flirts with them, when learning they're a nephilim, he jumps in joy and from them now he's always having them as the center of the party next to him when he goes to party.

*They're might beautiful with that ethereal beauty. He cares for their skin and keeps it shiny and soft, just so he can feel it when he cuddles them. It's always a night session with cuddles with him, he claims them after 9PM. No one can get them, it's his hour with them.

*In the cuddle sessions all Asmo does is cradle them and tell them how precious and unique they are, it's all appreciation after appreciation with them, their wings are definitely a favorite, like how the rest of the brothers often caress and feel them.

Beelzebub and MC:

*A noodle wrap what? Are you telling him that you're FOOD?! He practically drools, but gets disappointed that he misheard it. It's a nephilim and not a noodle wrap. But is certainly curious about the angel-human hybrid.

*Keeps asking if they're not really edible, he can't help thinking of food all the time, because he is the Gluttonous one. He looks like ready to eat on one feather, but he gets stopped as ones. The nephilim explains to him what they are. And they're definitely not food, Beel buddy.

*Anyways, when he's eating his chin is rested on their shoulder and they wrap a wing around him, so he can eat comforted by the softness of such beautiful wings.

Belphegor and MC:

*Not even amazed. They're a human and an angel, so what. Not much of to make fuss over that, he just want to sleep. Let him be, go away with your wings to somewhere else, let him sleep. He's not amazed.

*It's cold treatment for the major part, though one day he's feeling cold because his blanket is not warm enough. Nephilim MC just wants to make him warm so their wings go around him. At first he growls and threatens them to go away. Or. Else. But he's a big liar, he likes the feeling. Fine, cuddle him. Angel-human. Anhuman is how he dubs them. Be his pillow, he'll like you more if you do that.

*After days he finds himself cuddling the nephilim back and enjoying the touch. Big liar and tsundere too. But if honest, the kuudere definition is right for him. Whatever, he's sleeping and cuddling MC, he won't do much than just that, so know how to value him.

[dallaswinstonsleatherjacket]

Concussion-Ponyboy Curtis 

(Im actually kind of excited about this one)

Most of my fanfics you can also read on my AO3-if you like that format better!

Taglist: @pepsi-and-cigarettes @chaotically-cas @sylvia-supremacist @darrys-toolbag @otterfire @i1-800-555-trash-1i @queen-of-the-outside @isasbaguettes @steveiskoreanfuckit (lmk if you want to be added or removed)

It had all started three days ago, when Richard Astor, one of the more commonly seen Socs, pushed me against the lockers after third period so hard I hit my head. He made it out to be an accident, but I knew that was only ‘cause Ol’ Mrs. Lowell was standing right there.

I don't know how Steve or Two didn't see it, since they were both there that day and usually were in the same halls as I was, but I didn't see either of them, and they must not have seen me either, cause Soda and Darry didn't say anything when I got home. I was glad, too. The whole gang fusses too much over me, and I know it's ‘cause my brothers are all scared of losing me after losing mom and dad. I get it, I’d go nuts if anything happened to them either, but still.

Anyway, good old Curly Shepard, a kid from a neighboring gang of greasers happened to see. He and I are pretty close, I tutor him with math sometimes and we get along pretty well. Our gangs might not, at least not all the time, but two kids like us have to stick together in a Soc-filled school.

Curly raised an eyebrow as I passed him, but didn't comment until after lunch. He had dragged me to the bathrooms and made me do that concussion test that his older brother Tim always makes him do after he hits his head real hard. I didn't feel real bad, I just wanted to get to English, so he let me go.

I didn’t feel anything at all besides a pain in my head until I got to the DX later that day. Steve had driven me there somewhat begrudgingly, but there was no getting out of it, because he had a shift there anyway and I was supposed to walk home with my brother.

Soda walked out to the front to meet us, and I tried to get out of the car but only narrowly avoided falling to the ground because Soda caught me just in time.

“Hey, Pone, you okay there?” Soda's voice was cheerful but his eyes were worried. He reminded me of Darry at that moment, and I shivered.

“Yeah, sorry. Just-stood up funny.” I wrenched myself to my feet, deciding that this was not the time to be dizzy.

Soda walked close behind me as I stalked indignantly through the DX and took a seat near where Soda usually sits. There were no cars Steve needed to work on, so he refrained from heading to the garage and instead stayed in the air-conditioned store, grabbing himself and Soda a coke before taking a seat on the stool next to me.

Steve and Soda started talking about some old convertible that came in the other day, and I started to doze off, to be honest. My head hurt a whole hell of a lot, and I wanted nothing more than to be at home in my bed.

“Pony. Pony, hey, kid-”

My eyes flew open and I was still at the bar stools around the counter at the DX, and both Steve and Soda were looking at me.

Soda reached as if to feel my temperature, and I tried to swat him away and nearly fell off the stool. As I caught my balance, Soda managed to press the back of his hand to my forehead.

“You feel a little warm…” I pulled away and managed a glare at both of them, cause they were looking at me like I was a little kid.

“I should take you home-Steve, can I take the truck?”

I would have liked nothing more than to drive home and sink into my bed, but Steve's glare, whether about the truck or having to man the register and the garage, made me resist.

“Soda-I’m fine, honest. I'm just tired-school today-”

“No one hurt you, did they?” Soda's eyes widened and he looked over at Steve, who shrugged and looked at me.

“No-I just feel fine-I’m fine, right Steve?” I looked over at Steve, and decided if he wanted his truck or his friend for the afternoon, it was his choice.

Steve raised his hands as if to ask to leave him out of it, but Soda raised his eyebrows and Steve looked between the two of them.

“I mean, Kid, you know how you feel-and Soda, if you think he caught something, take him home. I can manage here”

Soda tried to feel my forehead again, but I ducked this time, and Steve clicked his tongue at me. “Little Curtis, if I knew you were going to be such a damn pain-”

That's the last thing I remember before I fell off my stool.

*

When I opened my eyes next it seemed like I wasn't at the DX anymore, and I recognized the wallpaper of our living room.

“Oh, god, Pony-” Soda whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

If I had enough strength to hold any sort of conversation I would have asked him what for, but instead I forced myself to keep my eyes open.

Soda must have sensed I didn't want to talk because he continued. “You fell off your stool at the DX-I don't know why, I think you were dizzy, and you only blacked out for a bit, and then you woke up and started mumbling before falling asleep-god, Pony, I’m awful sorry.”

I still couldn't speak well, and my head felt heavy to hold up, but I watched out of the corner of my eye as Steve walked into the room, coming over to the couch and leaning over the back of it to look at me. My face felt hot and I wanted to turn away.

“That was some performance, huh Little Curtis?” Steve grinned.

Soda glared at him and turned back to me.

“You need anything, Pony? Darry’s almost home and he-”

I could feel all my muscles tense and I almost sprung up, only stopped by Steve holding my shoulder down.

“Darry? Darry can't come home, you shouldn't have called him-I'll rest, I promise, tell him I’m okay-”

The front door slammed and Darry walked in, work boots caked with mud and drywall, and he didn't even take them off by the door as he hurried over.

“Ponyboy, Pony, are you okay?” Darry’s hands were surprisingly gentle, one on my forehead and the other holding my hand loosely.

“I’m fine, honestly Darry.”

Darry shook his head. “You definitely have a fever, Pone, you're slurring your words, Soda says you were all dizzy at the DX-”

I shot a glare at Soda, which he didn’t return and instead looked up at Steve, who shrugged again.

“Kiddo, you have to tell me what happened.” Darry’s voice was stern, and he pushed my bangs back and adjusted the pillows behind my head.

“I hit m’ head” I let myself close my eyes, it hurt to keep them open, the light seemed too bright. I let my head rest back on the pillows and I kept quiet, not offering any more detail.

I could feel Darry's eyes searching me for more, but I lay still and didn't make a noise, until he either decided he would try later or that was all I had to say.

“Alright. Pone, we’re gonna get you to your bedroom, okay, so you can rest?”

“I can walk, Darry” I said, and tried to sit up.

Both Darry and Soda helped lift me to my feet, and I took about three steps before feeling like I wanted to throw up and sitting back down on the couch.

I pretended not to notice as Darry lifted me up easily and started down the hallway. I still felt so dizzy from even trying to stand up, and having Darry carry me was about equal embarrassment to falling, without the pain.

Steve and Soda followed Darry, although I'm not sure why Steve was even still here. It's not like he cared about me anyway, although I did notice he looked more concerned, and the smirk was wiped off his face.

Soda pulled the covers back and Darry lay me down gently and covered me with them, arranging my head on the pillows. Steve hovered awkwardly by the doorway, as if he were unsure whether to stay or go.

The door slammed shut and I winced at the noise, turning my face into the pillow. Steve used it as an excuse to go meet whoever was at the door, and Darry sat on the edge of the bed.

“Hey, kiddo. I'm so sorry, Pony, I know you feel like shit.”

My eyes were fluttering closed, but I reached for Darry’s hand, wanting suddenly nothing more than to have his arms around me.

“Rest, okay? I’ll be right here, I promise.” Darry’s voice was getting softer, and I could feel myself falling asleep.

*

“You think it's a concussion?”

My eyes fluttered open for a second, just enough time to see Darry and Two-bit seated at the edge of my bed, talking to each other quietly.

“I dunno, Two. It looks a lot like the one I got when I played football-he's all dizzy and everything, and really tired..” Darry sighed. “If it's a concussion all we can do is wait anyway, and get him to rest.”

It was silent for a minute.

“I should have been with him..I skipped school today to go down to that race with Dally, I could’ve driven him straight home and avoided a lot of this mess…” Two-bits voice was sober, the most serious I've ever heard him.

Darry seemed to have shook his head, and I heard him sigh again. “It's not your fault. I don’t think he just hit his head either, he seems off in general. He might have a cold along with whatever else. I just wish he didn't feel like this, like he needed to hide things from me.”

I shifted a little, turning more on my side and groaning quietly. My head hurt like hell, and I felt sick to my stomach, so I kept my eyes closed. I could feel Darry and Two-bit watching me, but they must have thought I was still asleep.

“So what did your work say?” Two-bit asked in a quieter tone, and I stiffened. What if he was let off because of me?

“I told my boss what happened. He told me it was no problem-he has kids, he understands. I just need to be with Pony if anything happens. I wish-I wish I had enough money to take him to get properly checked out but…”

They were both silent again, and I was filled with anger at myself, for being so dumb and causing so much trouble, and Soda for calling Darry, and stupid Socs and stupid school and-

“Pony?” Darry spoke quietly still, and I turned and pushed myself up on my forearms, forcing my eyes open.

“Yeah?” Golly, my head hurts.

“You need anything to eat or drink? It's past dinnertime, kiddo, you were asleep for a while.”

My stomach turned at the thought of eating anything, and I turned back over to face the window. Sure enough, it was dark outside, and I could hear the chatter of Soda and Steve, and maybe Johnny and Dally, coming from the living room.

“Not hungry.” I said finally, and Darry nodded. Then I said “Is everyone here?” I knew Dally wasn't, he never comes for dinner or stays over, but everyone else could be.

“Everyone but Johnny.” Darry said, and then rubbed his face with his hands like he does when he’s stressed. I didn't know whether he was stressed about me, or Johnny, or something else.

Darry stood up, walking over and sitting on the edge of my bed, closer to me. Running the back of his hand over my forehead, he managed a grim smile.

“Fevers down.”

Two-bit grinned at me cheerfully, and stood up, leaning over to ruffle my hair. “Hey, Pone, all banged up again aren't ya?”

I winced at the touch but smiled back, and Two-bit headed out to the living room. Darry stayed.

“You'll call me if you need anything?”

“Yes, Darry.”

“Alright.” Darry started to leave, but then turned back. “Hey-was Johnny at school today?”

I shook my head.

Darry's eyes changed, but he nodded and closed the door.

*

I must have dozed off again because the next thing I knew it was dark outside, and a hand on my shoulder was gently waking me.

My eyes didn't hurt quite so much, and I blinked a couple times before turning.

Johnny was there, his hair almost invisible in the dark except for where it fell in wild curls over his face. He looked as though he had been patched up recently, I assumed by Darry, he had a bandage across his face and a couple more that disappeared below his collar.

“Hey,” he said softly, and I grinned.

“Darry said you should take this-I think you fell asleep before he could give it to you earlier.” He handed me a small pill and a glass of water, which I swallowed, and set the cup on the nightstand.

We sat there in silence for a minute. Johnny and I can do that, we can sit without talking and still understand everything the other is thinking.

I shifted so I was sitting, and then I moved over enough so Johnny could lay next to me. He clambered onto the bed and we both lay down and stared at the ceiling.

He didn't ask what happened, and I didn’t ask either. We both knew.

That's how I fell asleep that night, Johnny curled up beside me. I’m sure he would be gone the next morning, slipping out at the break of dawn before anyone woke up, meeting Dally at the lot or around Bucks. I could picture Darry padding down the hallway and settling into his bed, I could picture Soda curling up in Darry’s big easy chair, and Two-bit and Steve flopping down onto the couch.

My head started to hurt again, so I closed my eyes. Johnny’s soft breathing beside me and the quiet chatter from the living room lulled me to sleep.

[kleptic-writes]

here comes the purple house; here comes the purple people

The one-shot where Kara admires a purple house and its owner, Lena.

You can read it on AO3 or below.

--

When Kara finally noticed the purple house, she tripped and started to choke on her saliva. Her eyes watered, and her lungs burned, but she continued to stare at the awe-inspiring house. She felt as if she were in a prestigious art museum, admiring an Rembrandt or a Monet.

As seconds started to turn into minutes of observation, Kara realized that the house wasn’t purple, but it was actually a vibrant, deep wine. It was three stories tall, making it one of the tallest homes in the neighborhood. From where Kara stood hunched over on the sidewalk, she could argue that the shockingly beautiful house easily towered over Maxwell Lord’s house by a few feet. Because the house was painted such a bright and shocking color -- it looked as if someone decided to paint with a cabernet -- all the other homes seemed minuscule and invisible when compared to it.

Kara came to two conclusions about the house while she was still hacking up a lung.

One: it did not belong in the neighborhood. Two: some hydrangea bushes would make the wine color  pop . And, golly, Kara really wanted this house to be the center of her neighborhood’s universe.

“Can I help you?” A gorgeous, angelic voice said, and Kara immediately straightened up and turned her head towards the voice. Her eyes widened as an ethereal being -- golly, this woman is  beautiful -- stared at Kara with extreme interest. Kara’s gaze dropped, and she started to appraise the ethereal-being as if the woman was an extension of the wine-colored home.

Every item the woman wore -- the three-piece navy pant-suit, the high-heel stilettos, the diamond-studded watch, and the diamond-crested thumb-ring --  seemed to glow and sparkle under the mid-afternoon sun. The woman’s hair was pulled back in an immaculate ponytail, not one piece of hair out of place. It looked painfully tight, and Kara wanted to badly take the elastic out of the woman’s hair and allow the dark locks to cascade down like the dark-leaves in fall.

This woman belonged in the neighborhood about as much as that purple house did.

Kara sucked in some air. Wow, she must get to know this woman.

“Oh my,” the woman said, reaching out and grasping onto Kara’s shoulder. “You look as if you are going to die in front of my house,” the goddess murmured, her voice raspy and deep as she raised one of her perfectly groomed eyebrows at Kara.

“Oh,” Kara squeaked, her cheeks immediately becoming hot and aflame. “I… uh… I just noticed this house… your house, I mean,” she said, her tongue suddenly feeling a thousand times heavier in her mouth. “How are you not getting attacked by the HOA? I could barely get permission to grow flowers in my front yard,” she asked, rubbing the back of her head.

The woman chuckled. Kara quickly swallowed down a whimper as that was the most beautiful noise she had ever heard. She had only heard the laugh once, but Kara could easily get addicted to that sound. It sounded as if angels had decided to gift Kara with true happiness. She cleared her throat.

“All they can do is fine me,” the woman said, shrugging, and a small smirk danced on her lips. She looked so powerful, so in-charge, so  beautiful , and immediately, all that Kara could think of was getting down on the cement sidewalk and kissing the woman’s Louboutin shoes.

Kara blinked, her eyes focusing on the shoes. They were almost identical to what her boss would wear, but even Kara -- who wore the same pair of brown loafers to work every day --  knew that those shoes were  expensive  . And, not: ‘I can buy whatever I want from a restaurant without worrying about the price  ’ expensive, but ‘I can buy my favorite restaurant to make sure they never go out of business’ expensive.

Kara’s cheeks burned hotter.

She was teetering on worshiping a random stranger like she was a Goddess on earth.

Wow.

“I’m not exactly scared of a bunch of Karens,” the woman said, and Kara watched as two very vibrant green eyes danced down her body. “You shouldn’t either,” the woman whispered. “You could probably kick all their botox, plastic surgery asses back to their homophobic, transphobic, racist homes.”

Kara nodded, and a flutter -- ignore it, Kara -- of butterflies jumbled and flew around in her stomach. “Golly,” she breathed out. “I wish I could do that.”

The woman stuck out her hand and smiled. “Lena,” she said, her green eyes filling with an emotion that Kara couldn’t quite decipher. “But, if one of those bitches asks you for my name, it’s Keiran.”

Kara grasped Lena’s hand and shook it once. Kara’s eyes widened and her heart boomed wildly in her chest as if she had just crossed the line of her third marathon. “Kara,” her voice cracked like a teenage boy who saw his crush for the first time in two months. “Kara Danvers.”

Lena grinned and dropped Kara’s hand, leaving the latter to feel raw and jittery. She felt as if a sucker punch landed straight in the middle of her stomach.

“Where’s your house, Kara Danvers?” Lena said, her voice sounding almost like a purr. “I assume that you live around here somewhere. Or, were you just complaining about a different neighborhood’s shitty HOA? Because, I have a feeling that every HOA is awful.”

Kara awkwardly laughed and stumbled over her address, keenly aware of Lena’s predatorial gaze with every word spoken. Kara wasn’t sure if she could get any redder -- surely, she looked like a cherry by now -- but the longer that Lena stared at her with that gaze, the hotter her ears burned.

“Anyway,” Kara squeaked, “that’s where I live. Maybe you could come by some time! I have some plants that would look wonderful in your yard,” she smiled a hopeful smile at the ethereal woman.

Lena grinned, and Kara immediately felt like she had been blinded by an angelic light. She quickly shook her head to free herself from Lena’s hold.

“I would love that,” Lena said, “but are you not growing them?”

Kara shrugged. “I can only battle the HOA so much,” she mumbled, a feeling of embarrassment washing over her like a hard rain. “I could barely get permission to grow pansies in my front yard. Those women just really like their shrubbery for some reason.”

Lena hummed, looking towards her house.

They stood there silently, and Kara tried -- keyword:  tried -- to work up the courage to ask for the woman’s number. But suddenly, a shrill noise shattered the silence, and Kara watched as Lena brought a slick phone up to her ear.

“One second,” she said into the phone before covering it with her palm. Lena looked at Kara with an extreme fondness that made the latter feel giddy. “I’ll see you around,” Lena said, sounding hopeful.

“Of course, Lena,” Kara said, and she puffed up her chest, walking away from the purple house.

The next day, when Kara went outside to water her pansies, there was a a note taped on her door that said:

Kara,

This might be creepy, but I want you to plant the flowers that you want. If the HOA threatens to fine you or actually fines you, please just send me a text. I’ll take care of it.

(xxx)xxx-xxxx

- Lena

Kara, with extreme vigor, immediately went to her local flower nursery and bought her favorite flower, the orchid, and some hydrangeas for Lena. After all, Kara and Lena could both be the dashes of purple in their neighborhood.

(Little did Kara know, however, was that years later -- after tearful declarations of love -- the yard full of purple flowers and the strangely beautiful purple house would become one as the two owners became one as well.)

[threewickfic]

A Return to Self: Bucky Barnes Ficlets

hello hello, under the cut i have the start of what i hope to be a series of little one-shots of bucky becoming bucky again after being the winter soldier for so long. if y'all are interested, i'd love to keep writing these xoxo find me on threewick on ao3 where i'll post them from here on out!

The doctor tells him to start small.

“It’s good to talk, James. Just to get into the habit. Just a greeting - a ‘hello,’ and that can be it.”

She had said it like it was easy. She said everything like it was easy, like it was within his reach. Bucky liked that about her.

He liked a bunch of things about her. She was teaching him to like things again, starting with the way she spoke to him - not like he was wounded, or stupid, or dangerous. But with a warm curiosity that somehow matched the way she balanced her clipboard on her knee and cocked her head after she asked him a question.

He liked the way she wore her yellow hair up in a twist, and the way little strands of it loosened and corkscrewed around her temples. He liked how the soft skin at the corners of her eyes and mouth had deep lines even when her expression was neutral, like she’d spent so much time smiling that it had permanently etched itself onto her face.

He had lines like that, too, but they were across his forehead, gauged in by scowling. The Winter Soldier had scowled a lot, he’d been told. And had spoken very little.

Some of the Winter Soldier’s habits had seemingly, over the years, become Bucky’s habits. Sometimes he was scared to find out just how many.

But he could start small by talking.

“How does that sound, James? Just a ‘hello.’ Just to the people on your list.”

His list.

The doctor had made him make a list of all the people he could potentially feel comfortable around. She had wanted a list of everyone he already did feel comfortable around, but had ‘hmm’d in a tone of kind disapproval when he’d handed the paper back with a single name on it:

STEVE.

So she’d expanded it to everyone who could, maybe, one day see himself feeling comfortable around. And it had grown by four:

STEVE. RHODES. BANNER. SAM.

And, crossed out twice before being rewritten in a precise, clear hand:

ROMANOFF.

He had intentionally left off Stark and the Maximoff girl. They both made him uneasy. And it wasn’t that he disliked Thor and Vision; he just didn’t understand them yet. Gods and Visions hadn’t existed the last time Bucky had been Bucky, and he needed some time to adjust.

So he had his list.

“Can you do that?” she prompted, head cocked, warm and gentle as ever. For some reason he didn’t hate speaking with her. Maybe because he rarely spoke; it was mostly nods and shrugs, an occasional grunt. Monosyllabic answers.

“Yes,” he finally said.

His doctor beamed at him as if he’d just offered her the entirety of the world and a clean bill of his own mental health. It was almost enough to make him smile back - almost.

At least he wasn’t scowling.

***

Stark was letting him stay at the tower.

Bucky had resisted at first; everything about it screamed no, screamed claustrophobia and too many eyes and too high in the air and too much oversight and where was Steve. He had lived well enough on his own before all of this, lurking as he’d been in alleyways, squatting in luxe spare houses that sat empty for months at a time, breaking and entering as he saw fit and never leaving a trace.

“Thank you. No,” he’d said stiffly, repeating himself intermittently during gaps in Steve and Stark’s arguing match, the pair of them talking over one another at increasingly high volumes, neither of them seemingly aware that Bucky didn’t want either option - he didn’t want to live under Stark’s thumb but he didn’t want to live with Steve, either. He was tired of being at the behest of other people, though he could see Stark’s point, even as inelegantly as he’d put it:

“We can’t just have one of the world’s most sophisticated weapons curled up at the foot of your bed like a pet, Rogers, not when he’s about as mentally stable as Vision after a Nora Ephron movie.”

“He’s my friend, Stark - he needs to be with me -”

“Or do you need to be with him?”

“Just because you can’t understand what actual friendship feels like -”

“Thank you. No.”

“- Doesn’t mean that you can belittle what I’m trying to do here, what progress Bucky’s made -”

“Counterpoint, Capsicle, Benedict Arnold here gets triggered by some Russian and strangles you in your sleep -”

“Thank you. No.”

“He wouldn’t do that -”

“There need to be protective measures to look out for civilians -”

“There need to be protective measures to look out for Bucky -”

“Thank you. No.”

“- So that Anton Chigurh over here doesn’t go on a rampage -”

“No one’s going on a rampage, Tony, for goodness’ sake -”

“I’m just saying, he needs to be where we can see him, where we can intervene if anything goes wrong -”

“FINE! Fine, we’ll both stay here!”

“Thank you. N- what?” Bucky had stared at Steve, scowling again, trying to work out how he felt about this development. Neither Steve nor Tony seemed to have noticed; for someone they were both so concerned about keeping tabs on, it was worth noting that both seemed to go completely deaf and blind to his presence when heated. Steve only gave Stark a heated glare before adding a stipulation.

“But you’re covering the rent on my apartment, Tony.”

“Oh, golly gee, a squat in Brooklyn, however will I afford it?!”

Anyway.

That’s how Bucky had come to be living - temporarily - at Stark Tower, where he was in proximity to the people on his list. Granted, he did spend most daylight hours in his room; he had gotten accustomed to a nocturnal sleep schedule and still found the bustle of the tower during work hours off-putting, even on the domestic floors, so he’d taken to sleeping during the day and exploring at night.

‘Prowling,’ Stark called it. ‘Perimeter checks,’ Romanoff countered, kinder. ‘Bucky stuff,’ Steve said, always with a smile.

Whatever it was, it meant he didn’t always run into other people, which he preferred. Steve was the one he saw most frequently, and even that wasn’t every day, though he did ensure that Steve was present and every morning, midday, and evening.

But his doctor had told him to start small. He could do that. He could start small.

It was just after ten o’clock and Bucky knew that this was the time Steve usually returned from the tower’s gym, hair damp from the shower, face freshly shaved, always wearing gray sweatpants and a white shirt. It was routine - Bucky liked routine. Sometimes he wondered if Steve knew that and he made himself predictable on purpose.

Usually, at this time, Bucky was in the kitchen off of the common area, putting together something for ‘breakfast.’ Steve would always step out of the elevator and greet him with his toothpaste-commercial smile: “Hey, Buck.” Sometimes Bucky would smile back. Sometimes he wouldn’t. It depended on which nightmares he’d just woken up from.

Tonight, though. Tonight he was ready.

He had a pile of fluffy scrambled eggs untouched in front of him and he waited, watching the elevator. The numbers suddenly began to tick - 32. The gym floor. Climbing up, up, up, until they settled on 84, the doors sliding open to reveal Steve, damp and clean, gray and white. He saw Bucky and his expression lit up the way it always did when he saw Bucky, and he opened his mouth -

“Hey, Steve,” Bucky said, beating him to the punch.

Steve’s answering grin could’ve powered the tower for a week.

[melyaliz]

Past loves and future babies pt. 5

Masterlist

Fandom: Marvel 

Summary: Trying to Dance over their issues 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OC

Notes: This took a bit of a turn I wasn’t planning but I actually like it this way. Let me know what you guys think 

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive​

Connect with me! AO3 / Instagram / Pinterest

DONATE or REQUEST

---------

Giggles, they bubbled up and floated around the room filling it with fizzy magic. Steve tried to remember a time he had come home to such a sound. And if so, it had been a long time. There had been so much silence after Thanos. And before that the noise was anything but laughter. When you are on the run laughter wasn’t really a daily occurrence.   

Dixie stood in the middle of the living room in a sports bra and legging stretching. Her phone propped up on a chair where she was watching something. Her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail as the light back lit her in a way that made her almost look like she was glowing. 

She looked so different from the girl yesterday. So much more relaxed, in her own element. 

Bucky was right. He didn’t know this woman at all. But she didn’t know him either. And at least he was in his own home. She had left everything and everyone for this. 

Part of him debated just leaving. Letting her enjoy herself without him around to ruin it. 

“Hello Mr. America.” 

Too late. 

She smiled up at him from her warrior on3. A big cheesy grin that seemed to light up the already bright room. It was infectious and he couldn’t help but smile back. Standing up she pulled at her ponytail.

“Don’t stop on my account” 

“Ohh enjoying the view of my sweaty body?” she giggled swaying her hips as her hands moved over her body in an exaggeratedly sexy motion. She was silly, something Steve was slowly learning more and more. 

“So what are your plans today?” 

“Wasn’t really sure, what do you guys do for fun around here?”

“Well Sam enjoys the large media room, Bucky and I like to hike around the property, Wanda and Vision normally cook, It really just depends.” 

Dixie nods thinking it over about to respond when her stomach spoke for her. Letting out a loud growl. Chuckling Steve nodded toward the kitchen.

“Have you eaten?” 

“Lunch sounds amazing, I was going to shower and then figure out how to work that fancy kitchen.” 

“I can start something if you would like to take a shower.” 

“I won’t say no to a hot guy making me food” Dixie giggled spinning around heading for the bedroom, “Be back in a bit” 

“Take your time” Steve called after her fighting back a smile. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. It seemed like she was startling to settle into the place. Plus making food would hel[. Something to do. Something he can control. 

Dixie sighed letting the warm water wash over her. Trying to clean away any anxiety she was feeling about being alone with Steve again. It was weird because at this point they had (quite literally) slept together. But she still felt like she was with a complete stranger. 

A beautiful stranger 

But a stranger none the less. 

Although as she walked back into the main room watching Steve walk around the kitchen he didn’t feel that much of a stranger. His blue eyes met her as she came closer. A platter of meats and cheeses.

“I figured you could make your own sandwich if you want or just eat whatever.” 

“Ohhh so fancy” Dixie giggled, “Is that wine?”  

He smiled pouring her a glass, “It is” 

“You know how to make a girl feel special.” 

“So what did you do for fun?” Steve asked, helping himself to some meat and cheese.

“Oh I’m just a simple girl, some binging Netflix is always fun. I am very partial to cheesy 80’s action movies.” Memories of her and Mac sitting on a beat up old couch they had gotten from craigslists with a pack of cheap beer between them. Laughing like nothing else mattered. Calling out lines and guessing what would happen next.  

It felt like a lifetime ago. 

“Oh and what made the 80’s so cheezy?” Steve perked up, many people had recommended things to him but cheesy 80’s action hadn’t been one of them. He was honestly not even sure what that was. 

“Oh man I forgot you missed stuff.” Dixie said taking a sip of her drink mulling it over. Would it even make sense to a man who spent most of his life in the 30’s and 40’s. 

“Yeah, I have been keeping a list of things I need to catch up on.” Steve said, pulling it out. Dixie instantly lighting up.

“Wait you have a real honest to goodness list, lemme see!” 

Taking it she flipped over the pages, “Man Star Wars? It’s insane to me that you missed all this stuff. I mean it makes sense but… golly gosh jeez whiz” 

Steve raised an eyebrow fighting back a smile, “Jeez whiz?” 

“Yeah old man, we are going to have to start working on this.” The idea of experiencing movies like Indiana Jones and the Matrix with someone who didn’t know anything making her excited. 

“Actually I had a better idea.” picking up a remote he clicked play. Soft music started to play. Moving around the large island that broke up the kitchen and the living room he held out his hand to Dixie who watched him. Her playful smile slowly melting from her face. Eyes studying him intently. Unsure.

“What?” she asked, looking from his hand to his bright blue eyes. Her stomaching flopping slightly. Shuttering as if she was standing on the edge of something. Something high up. That vertigo, gravity pulling you down. 

“Can I have this Dance?”

She felt sick, slightly off balance, “Are you serious?”

“Don’t like dancing?”

“I’m not very good” 

Steve wasn’t stupiud, he saw the shift in her. Bucky’s words coming back to him. You’re a stranger to her as well. “It’s ok, I… I want to try ok” 

Dixie wasn’t really sure what try meant. Try dancing? Try to get to know each other? Try romance? Try, the small voice in the back of her head sang. Try something. 

Slowly she slipped her hand into his, those unbalancing nerves swaying even harder as his hand gripped hers. She was fighting her better judgement. All the warning bells that told her to step away from the ledge. But he was right. They had to try. The world was counting on them. And if this would help him commit to their destiny then she would have to give a little. 

As she followed him into the center of the living room she hoped it was worth it. Hoped that no matter what happened it didn’t crash and burn around them. That she could navigate herself between that fine line of caring for someone and not falling in love.  

He smiled down at her as the music played slowly moving. She giggled again and his smile grew. 

“You have a great laugh.” 

“Uh, thank you. I like your smile. The real one anyway.” 

“Real one?” 

“Yeah not that uptight, I’m trying to make you feel at least one. This one.” she pointed toward his face and nodded her approval. 

“I guess I should apologize for being so… uptight.” 

“It’s ok” she nodded, “This whole situation is kind of…”

“Awkward?” 

“Eminently.” 

“Well at least we are on the same page.” 

“If there is one thing I have learned growing up as an awkward kid was” Dixie paused for a moment, “Lean it to the awkward.” she leaned forward as she spoke her bright eyes looking up at him. He smiled down unable to picture the beautiful woman in his arms as an awkward kid. However, some could say the same about him.  

“Ok then,” he said leaning forward, his forehead brushing against her’s. Their faces only a breath apart. Barely touching, eyes locked on one another. Caught up in the moment. “I’m going to kiss you.” Steve whispered his words drifting through her gently stirring something deep inside that made her shiver as he broke that abyss between them meeting her lips with his own. 

Steve’s kiss felt like a question. Asking her what she wanted, asking himself if this was right. His kisses were always slightly hesitant, holding back slightly. Searching as if looking for something that wasn’t there. 

Or maybe someone. 

As he slowly pulled away Dixie licked her lips. Trying to hold back the words that raced through her mind. Suspicions that seemed to be slowly confirmed with each passing second. 

“What is it?” 

“What?” Steve looked down at her confused, “What is what?” 

“There is something wrong, what is it.”

“It’s not you” it was quick, defensive. Dixie couldn’t help but take a slight offence to it. 

“I never said it was” her voice soft, eyebrow raised slightly. Hard eyes studying him, peeling down the layers of the man in front of her. Trying to understand who he was. What had happened to him. 

Steve sighed looking away for a moment. Heart heavy. Memories of wounds that hadn’t healed yet. Were still fresh. Still bleed deeper than any of the scars on his body. 

Peggy. 

“What?” Dixie asked again, her hand gently rubbing his arm. He met her gaze, deep blue and so broken. It hurt her. All those fears she had about her own walls. They were nothing to whatever was pushing away from. 

Because he was already broken. He was suffering from what she had feared for herself.

“Try me.” 

“I… it’s not you” his words empty, hollow. Like a plea trying to protect her. Trying to fall on the sword for a woman he didn’t even know. Trying to be strong. 

“I’m a good listener.” she let out a soft chuckle, “When I want to be.” 

“I just,” he sighed, running his fingers through his blonde hair. Unsure. Knowing it was wrong but… he needed to let it out. Needed to try and push this pain away. And then he looked down at her. Wide eyes looking back at him. Waiting. This wasn’t her fault. This wasn’t for her. She was just some girl. “Forget it”

Turning he walked toward the stereo turning off the music “This was a bad idea.”

“What?” Dixie felt herself flush with anger. Heat building up burning inside her bright and hot. “Don't you walk away from me Steve Rogers!” She snapped grabbing his arm. He froze turning shocked. 

“W….”

“I gave up everything to be here the LEAST you could do is be honest with me!” frustration building up. Bubbling from where deep inside her. The injustice of it all. Reminding Her again and again. She was the only one trying.  

“Don’t push it.” his words flat, a warning. Tired but a warning. 

“Try me,” she said again, crossing her arms over her chest. Holding on tight to herself. Trying to hold back all the things she really wanted to say to this man in front of her, “what are you scared of?” 

“I’m not scared” he said, “I’m FINE” 

“Clearly, you can’t even get it up” 

“Excuse me?” 

“You can’t even do what I’m here for, something is blocking you WHAT. IS. IT?” with each word she thrust her finger into his hard chest. Pushing him. Forcing him to take a step back. It didn't hurt but… it made him mad. Who did she think she was? 

“Stop that,” he said, grabbing her hand.

“Stop what? Trying to get to know you? One of us has to try!” 

“I’m trying” 

“Yes because running away the moment you could is trying SO hard” 

“Are you mad I left this morning?” 

“I’m mad you won’t talk to me!” 

“I’m talking to you right now!”

“No you’re not, you are trying to pour sugar over shit. Asking me to dance. Letting me decorate my room. Kissing me” she pulled her hand out of his pushing him with both of hers with enough force that he took a step back word, slightly off balance. Was it just him or were her hands hot? A heat that spread across his body.

“DAMN IT Dixie STOP!” 

“Stop what!?!” she snapped pushing him again. “At least one of us is trying!”

“I wasn’t even supposed to be here!” he snapped, the straw that broke the camel’s back. Shattering his strong glass box that increased his emotions. Shards scattering around them tearing at them. Ripping through their insecurities and doubts. 

“What?” 

“You want to know the truth, woman? I’m not even supposed to be here.” 

“What do you mean you weren’t even supposed to be here…” her voice was hoarse, laced with shock “were you going to die?” Memories of her own childhood rushing back. Darknesses that creeped in when no one was around. When it felt like she could never be free. 

Her question was like ice water on his fire. Cooling him off so that he was standing there gasping for air. 

“No I… I was going to leave everything for someone.” 

“I…” she stammered unsure how or what to say. All her suspicions confirmed yet so many more questions filling her up. 

“Like I said it’s not you,” he said, turning. His words ripped into her. A million cuts pouring out polling around her. His large back to her unable to face her and what his truth would do to her. 

It only took a few steps and he was gone. Out the door. Running from her. From the reality that not only had he ruined his own life with his delusions but someone else’s too 

Like she said. She gave everything to come here. 

To a broken man  

 ------------------------------------

Master list

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Story tag: @itsmeeluciie

[the-small-one-to-rule-them-all]

How to Befriend a Dragon

summary: Virgil is a shapeshifter who can turn into a dragon. he is hurt, gets lost, and meets a nice witch who seems to want to help.

pairings: none, platonic moxiety

warnings: talk of abuse, mildly descriptive flashbacks, mild description of injury, blood mention, dissociation, mild description of a panic attack, crying, unsympathetic remus,  please let me know if I missed anything

a/n: this is written is second person pov. It’s different, I know, but I felt it fit with the story and it happened rather naturally. I actually had a lot of fun writing it just with that technical aspect, but I also love the story. yes its hurt comfort, because i seem to be incapable of writing anything else lol. I hope you guys enjoy!

You have been running for so long. You realise you’re lost. Your legs ache. Your lungs burn. You just keep going, keep running, keep walking, keep stumbling. You slow after a while and your legs give out under you. You see a bush nearby and curl up underneath it, hoping against all hope that he won't find you again.

You wake up when someone almost steps on your sleeping body, “Oh, sorry I didn't see you there!”

You curl up further into yourself, hoping this man will leave you alone.

“Well lookie here!” He breathes, almost in awe. “Hello, I've never seen a dragon like you around here before. You must be a long way from home. All the cat-sized dragons i've seen are in the cities. Are you lost?”

You nod, wincing at the pain shooting down your back from the effort of lifting your head. 

The man’s eyes grow wide, “Oh dear, you’re hurt! Oh that looks like it must hurt something awful! I have some healing supplies back in my cabin, why don't you come with me and let me help you?” he says reaching out to you.

You flinch and pull away from him. You try to hiss but nothing comes out... your voice is gone.

The man pulls his hand back with a confused look on his face before relaxing. “Wait, i'm sorry, i'm being rather insensitive aren’t I? You must be scared of me, you don't even know me. Have I even introduced myself? I don't think I have, how rude of me. I’m Patton. I'm a witch, i've been out gathering herbs all evening. I live just a few hundred yards that way. I have this garden where I grow all sorts of things. I have everything from carrots to violets. my favorites are the rosemary and-”

You listen to him talk on and on happily about the things he grows in his garden, the plants he keeps around his house, and his favorite flowers. By the time he stops talking you have relaxed a bit. This man feels safe.

“Oh, would you look at that, the sun is going down already. I have enough herbs for today so I'm going to go back to my cabin. Do you care to join me?”

You look at him hesitantly.

“You don't have to, but I didn't think you would want to spend the night out here hurt, what with the coyotes and all.”

At the mention of coyotes you shudder. You think about it for another minute and then stand and take a shaky step towards Patton, and another. And suddenly your legs give out under you and you land hard on the forest floor.

Patton rushes forward to you, “My golly, are you okay? Please, don't push yourself. Here, why don't you ride in my basket?”

You look from the man to the basket of herbs and nod, wherever he is taking you will be safer than the woods. If you can't even walk you might as well be somewhere a little more comfortable.

He smiles, “Okay.” He sets down his basket and opens it. “If I'm going to pick you up what would be the best way to do that?”

You gesture to your stomach with your head.

“Hands under you?”

You nod.

“Okay, I'll be as gentle as I can.” He slowly moves around beside you and wraps one hand under your chest and the other under your belly and gently lifts you into the basket, taking care to avoid pinching your wings.

You curl up in the basket, feeling safe in the nest-like space.

“You okay?”

You nod.

He smiles, “Great, let’s go.” He carefully picks up the basket and walks softly back to his cabin. 

It is just as he had described, surrounded by a garden full of vegetables and fruits of all sorts, even some flowers and ivy cover the area close to his porch.

He opens the door and steps inside and as the warmth envelops you, you realise just how cold you had been. You sigh soundlessly as the warmth rejuvenates you and slowly you feel the ache leave your limbs. 

“You are cold-blooded right?” Patton asks.

You nod, wriggling further into the blanket of herbs.

He chuckles, “I'm glad you’re comfy in there, but I'm going to make you a bed near the fireplace with some blankets and an ice-pack so you can regulate your temperature comfortably, alright?”

You smile and nod, maybe this guy is trying to help you after all.

Once again you wake up to Patton’s voice, but this time it’s a shriek.

“Oh my gosh who are you?! When did you get here and what did you do with my dragon friend?!”

You open your eyes and bolt your head up, only to realise it won't move much... you’re human again now. You must’ve shifted during the night. You pull the sheet around yourself tighter. 

Patton is staring at you with wide eyes and what looks like a wand in his hand. “Where is my dragon friend?” He asks again.

You point at yourself, at your heart, hoping he understands.

He squints, “What do you mean? Why won’t you talk to me? Use words!”

You raise a hand to your neck and lift your head to show Patton the scar across it. Revealing the reason your vocal cords wont work, they haven’t healed properly. They might never. 

Patton’s breath hitches, “Fine, no words then. But I still don't understand what you mean and I'm worried about my friend who was sleeping right where you are last night! If you hurt him you’ll regret it I promise you that!”

You blink long and slow at him, a sign you hope he will recognise as one of peace. Then you will yourself to shift, glowing as you turn back into a dragon.

When the light from your transformation fades Patton gasps and drops his wand, “You’re... a shifter?”

You nod slowly, curling into yourself. You hope he isn't angry and won't hold it against you for scaring him.

His eyes widen as the reality of the situation hits him. He has to know about the trafficking, you just hold onto the hope he won't sell you back to them.

“Did... did you escape?” He asks gently.

The question hangs heavy in the air. You don't answer, which is almost an answer itself. You know your old master will have put out a search for you and already gotten a new dragon to replace you in his service in case you died. He is probably planning on killing you when he gets you back anyway. You can't go back, you won't. You would rather die from coyotes than at his hands.

Patton kneels down, getting closer to your level, he looks a bit less threatening this way. “I won't take you back there if that’s what you’re worried about. I would never hurt you, would never let you get hurt like that. I promise.”

You look away. How could you trust a promise from a human, after everything? You can't tell him. You won't. He will send you back. He will send you to your death.

Patton sighs, “I... I'm sorry, that is a bit of a personal question, huh?”

You close your eyes and nod.

Patton frowns solemnly, “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. But uh, whether you escaped or not, I would still like to help heal you, if you would let me.”

You stare at him skeptically. No human has ever been nice to you like this before. Have they offered you shelter and some food, sure. Given you a place to sleep the night in their barn, sure. Brought you into their house? Offered to heal you? Never. Never has a human touched you in a way that was gentle. Never has a human wanted to help you. Never has a human tried to heal you properly. No one, before him. How can you believe him?

You tilt your head, hoping your complete befuddlement and skepticism show through.

“Would you like to inspect my supplies before you decide?”

You shake your head. You don't want to know what kinds of torture devices this man may have. He can do whatever he wants with you. You don't want to know what he wants.

Patton frowns, “How about this? I have a cut on my leg that I got this morning while out gardening. Why don't you watch me tend to it for myself before you decide?”

You give a single nod and Patton hobbles off to get his supplies. 

When he comes back, he has a larger collection of jars than you thought he might. Though considering he is a witch you realise you shouldn't be so surprised. He also has a basket with several kinds of things in it that you can't quite identify, though you see some cloth sticking out.

As Patton sets his supplies down, he settles himself against the side of the of his chairs with a pillow under him. He rolls up his pant leg and you see an open cut on the side of his leg, he hisses as the fabric sticks to it. Then he takes a damp cloth and dabs away the dried blood around it, wiping away the mess to see it better. Then he takes a dry cloth and dries the wound. 

You tilt your head, intrigued as he grabs a jar and opens it. He scoops out a small amount and applies it to the cut, grunting at the first touch and wincing slightly as he rubs it along the length of the cut. Then he takes a piece of cloth from the basket and folds it a few times so it is the proper size to cover the area around the cut. He then opens several jars and applies several ointments and such to the cloth, before grabbing another strip from the basket. He places the folded piece against the cut and wraps it, securing the bandage section of the cloth in place. 

When he finishes, he wipes his hands on a clean washcloth and turns to you, “See, no big deal. I won't do anything to you that I wouldn’t also do to myself.”

You blink at him a moment. Perhaps you can trust this man. If anything you would rather he tend to your wounds than someone at the trafficking center. So you nod.

“Would... would you be willing to change back into a human for me? I don't know how to properly secure bandages on dragons, and it gives me a bit more room to work with. If not that is okay and we can figure this out together.”

You blep in thought and notice Patton forcefully holding back what must be a squeal of delight. 

You concede and hold the blanket close around your waist as you change back. 

Patton smiles, “Thank you for trusting me.”

He hasn't even done anything yet.

“Do you want to scoot over here or should I come join you?”

You pat the space next to you and Patton nods, “Okay.”

In just a few moments he has all his items surrounding the two of you.

“Where would you like to start?”

You point to your neck. You much prefer he helps where you can watch him before you let him work on your back.

Patton nods and scoots closer grabbing a new wet cloth.

“Don't worry, it's warm.” he says as he reaches up and gently cleans your neck. 

His hands are gentle and the cloth is soothing, it doesn’t even hurt, but you can't help it as your breathing quickens while he works. Just his proximity is enough to make you nervous, much less his actions. 

Patton frowns as he notices the look on your face, “Is something wrong?” He asks.

You notice your mouth is pulled into a tight lipped line, your brows furrowed ever so slightly. You smile, a fake show of contentedness, and shake your head.

Patton frowns, “Does it hurt?” he asks.

You blink, and shake your head once more.

“Am... am I scaring you? Are you not ready? We don't have to do this.”

You shake your head. Maybe he is scaring you a little bit, but it isn't anything he could fix. And maybe you aren't ready but you would rather it be him than anyone else so you lie. You lie through your teeth without even speaking a word.

Patton sets down the towel and sighs. “You don't have to do this to appease me. From what I can tell, nothing looks infected so it is safe to wait until you’re ready. I don't want to push you.”

You shake your head, you want him to do it, heal you, get it over with. You just want some proof he won't actually hurt you but you can't help the fear. You realise you’re crying and you try to force the tears to stop but they only fall faster.

He reaches towards your face and you pull back. Then you realise he just wanted to wipe away your tears. You close your eyes and lean forward towards him, scared of what he will do, scared of proximity, scared of touch, but all you want right now is a hug.

Gently he whispers, “Can I wipe away your tears?”

You nod and gasp softly as you feel his hands on your face yet you lean into the touch. He runs a hand through your hair, holding the back of your head to hold you steady. “Shh, there you are. Let it out. It’s okay to cry.”

You let yourself go, the tears that had built up breaking free. All the panic in running away and the past few days, the fear of being caught, the pain, all the pain of everything, the hope that maybe this man won't hurt you, and the exhaustion of it all, they hit you all at once as you break down. 

“Can I hug you?”

You pull the sheet tighter to yourself and shake your head. You’re far too scared to let that happen.

“Okay. I won't. I promise. Would you like something that feels like a hug but does not require the contact?”

You nod and he nods back, “Okay, I’ll get you my special blanket. Hold on, I will be right back, okay?”

You sniffle and nod, wondering what kind of special blanket this man has. Then he returns with the blanket, he drapes it around your shoulders. It’s heavy. 

“It’s a weighted blanket. I have it to help me sleep, but I find it comforting in a lot of other situations too.”

You pull it closer and relax under it. I kinda does feel like a hug, it is very comforting at least. Slowly your tears stop but your breathing has yet to calm. You feel you can't control it and nearly started to cry again.

Patton catches your attention with a wave of his hand, “Hey, it's okay, breathe with me, okay?”

You blink in understanding as Patton starts to breathe slowly. You do your best to copy him but it ends up all hiccuped and shaky and it isn't working. 

“Good job, let's do that again.”

Good job? I didn't do a good job, you think as you follow the pattern again. Every time you finish Patton encourages you and after a few repetitions you feel your breathing return to normal.

Patton smiles, “There we are, do you feel any better now?”

You nod and manage to give Patton a small smile.

Patton beams back at you. “I'm glad. Now I don't know about you, but I'm hungry. Why don't I go make us breakfast?”

You pull at the sheet, if you’re staying you would really like to have some clothes to wear.

“Oh! Of course. Why don't I get you some proper clothes! I should have some things in your size, you look just a size down from me.” Patton jumps up and you hear him rustling around in the other room. You think this might just end up okay. Maybe he won't hurt you or turn you in after all.

A few weeks later, after you’ve been living here with Patton for a while, you decide your ready to have him heal you. So, sou gather the supplies and set them on the table in the kitchen, and sit next to them, waiting for Patton to come in from the garden.

Sure enough, about two minutes later he comes through the door. When he sees you with the supplies he smiles, “You ready now?”

You nod. 

He joins you at the table after washing his hands, “It looks like you got everything we should need. I'm impressed. Is there a certain place you would like to start?”

You once again gesture to your throat

“Okay,” Patton says grabbing some supplies. 

You reach over and tug on his sleeve

“Yes, kiddo?”

You point to his wand and back to your throat, hoping he understands.

After a pause he sighs, “You're asking me to use magic to heal your throat?”

You nod. 

Patton sets down the supplies he had grabbed, “Oh, kiddo, I wish I could. I... throats are complicated and it’s so easy to mess up. I don't want to hurt you more.”

You feel your demeanor drop as you realise what he is saying.

“I'm so sorry, I just really don't want to hurt you.”

You sigh and nod. You understand.

“Do... do you still want to do this?” Patton asks, gesturing to the supplies on the table.

You nod enthusiastically.

“Okay. I'm glad.” Patton continues to take things out and arrange them for a minute before turning back to you. “So, throat first?”

You nod, lifting your chin so he has easy access.

Patton gently lifts a warm washcloth, “I know you’ve washed yourself but there’s no harm in taking precautions, right?”

You smile and resist the urge to flinch as the warm cloth touches your skin. You close your eyes as he works, it actually is rather relaxing. He then proceeds to pat the skin dry. 

“Your neck is actually healing quite nicely, I don't think it needs any ointments or anything.”

You bring your head back down and nod.

“So what should I work on next?”

You turn around and remove your shirt, exposing your back to Patton.

You hear the man’s sharp intake of breath as he takes in the sight of it. You hunch over, holding your knees and wait for him to start.

“You have some nasty cuts here. I’ll tend to those first, then I have some bruise cream which should help with the swelling and calm some of the pain, okay?”

You nod, you didn't even know bruise cream existed, but considering he is a witch it isn't all that surprising. 

“I'm going to lay a hand on your right shoulder to give myself balance as I work, is that okay with you?”

You nod again and let your mind drift away from your body as he speaks.

“If you want or need me to stop please tap my hand twice, okay?”

You tap his hand once in understanding and he smiles, “Okay. I'm going to work on the cuts now.”

You feel so floaty that at first you barely register the warmth of the washcloth. But the sting of the antiseptic hits you hard and it brings you back so fast it makes your head spin. You let a gasp slip through your teeth and cringe at the sound of it.

Immediately Patton stops what he is doing, “Are you okay?”

You tap his hand once.

“Does it sting?”

You nod.

Patton humms, “Okay. Thank you for letting me know. I’m sorry it hurts, but it stings because the cut has dirt in it and the ointment is cleaning it out. I'm going to need to keep cleaning it, okay?”

You nod and let yourself float away again, this time the sting fades a little as Patton works. You do not let yourself make another sound.

Patton frowns as he finishes cleaning the wounds and sets down the cloth, “Kiddo?”

You tap his hand once again.

“Thank you for letting me finish, but just so you know, you’re allowed to make noises if it hurts, I'm not going to be mad. I'm not saying you have to, but if you need to, you don't have to hold them in.”

Your mind races. I'm allowed to make noises? That goes against everything master has always wanted from me. This has to be a trap. Does Patton just want an excuse to hurt me? Why would he do that to me while healing me? You cannot wrap your head around what Patton is saying, so you just ignore it and tap his hand again.

“Okay Kiddo. I'm going to apply some ointments now. They will help with healing and reduce pain, but applying them does hurt a bit. Are you okay with that or would you rather I just apply bandages and bruise cream?”

You tap his hand once. He might as well apply them, it can't hurt that bad.

“Are you sure? You already seem a bit tense and I don't want to push you. The ointments aren’t strictly necessary.”

You freeze, you don't know the right choice. What does he want me to choose? What will he do if I choose wrong? Will he throw me out? What is going to happen?

Patton notices your pause and rubs his thumb soothingly over your shoulder.

You jump into position, head up, eyes unfocused. You wait for instructions, for pain, for anything.

Patton quickly pulls his hand from your shoulder and slowly comes around to face you.

“Kiddo?” he says hesitantly, “Hey, kiddo, would you look at me? Can you do that?”

He watches as you turn unfocused eyes to him. 

He reaches up and gently takes your hand and suddenly the world is clear again. What just happened? Where am I? Why is he not hurting me? What... oh. Oh no! He must hate me now. I'm so broken.

Patton watches as you come back down to earth, panic hitting you, then shame as you drop your head to your knees. You can't believe that just happened.

Patton makes a small noise as he notices your return to reality, “How about we take a break, hmm. I’ll bandage you up and we can rest on the couch, or you can go wander in the garden. I’ll make you tea if you like.”

You shrug.

“Okay. Well I'll let you think about what you would like while I bandage you up. Then you can use the pad of paper I set out to tell me what you would like, how’s that?”

You shrug again and Patton sighs, moving around you to sit so he can bandage you up.

While he works, your brain wanders. He asked what you want to do. You’ve learned that that is a dangerous question. I don't know what I want. I haven't wanted anything in awhile. How do I know I won’t want the wrong thing? Thoughts plague your mind, but you make yourself focus on the feeling of Patton bandaging your back and they slow. as they do, you realise you don't feel like moving at all, and a warm drink makes that more comfortable. So you decide that’s what you’ll say you want. 

When Patton finishes you put your shirt back on and he cleans up, sliding you the pad of paper for when you decide. 

You write down your response and show it to him when he comes back.

“Relaxing on the couch with tea sounds wonderful, any particular kind you want?”

You shake your head, you barely know what flavors of tea he has.

“Okay, would you like something sweet or earthy?”

“Sweet.” you write.

“Okay, why don't you go relax on the couch, grab a blanket if you are cold, and i’ll make the tea while you wait.”

You nod numbly and go lay on the couch, blanket pulled over your legs, pad of paper in your hands. You have so many thoughts and you can't help but want to write them down, even if no one ever sees them.

You write stream-of-consciousness style while you wait, just to get your thoughts all in a place you can see. Looking it over you realise there is a sentiment that keeps repeating itself, “Patton doesn't want to hurt me, I don't know why, but he doesn't want to hurt me.” You think over the events of the past weeks fondly and realise that maybe... maybe you can trust Patton not to physically harm you. He has had plenty of chances, more than you can count, and he hasn't hurt you once. You cannot be certain, but you decide to let yourself entertain the hope, and that is almost better.

About  a month or so later, you two have formed a really good communication system. He is pretty good at understanding your facial expressions and gestures, and you have started keeping notebooks and pencils all around the house for when you feel like having an actual conversation. You have actually had some really good conversations together. You told him your name a few days ago. He gently tore the paper off the pad when it was used up and asked to keep it. You smiled, you wouldnt stop him.

Today, you wake up in your room to hear several voices coming from the living room. It is typical for you to wake up to the sound of Patton singing or humming, or even talking to himself as he makes breakfast. This is different. There are two more voices coming from the living room other than Patton. You feel your heart pounding in your chest. Patton finally did bring in people from the trade center. He isn't going to keep me after all. He was only helping nurse me back to health so he could get more gold from the traders. He betrayed me just like everyone else. You rush to get dressed and ready before you crack the door open and peek out at the guests. 

They don't seem like the people from other centers that you have met before, they are dressed in brighter colors and one of them had a walking stick or staff with them. The other seems rather cheerful and animated, a stark contrast to the gruff, quiet, unreadable people you have seen at the center before. 

They seem to be chatting easily with Patton about his garden and crops and you can't help but wonder if this is just what Patton does. If he goes around finding different dragons and helping to nurse them back to health... before turning them in. You shudder at the thought and it nearly makes you cry on the spot. Have you been expecting something like this? Yes. But that doesn’t make the betrayal hurt any less. You had almost believed Patton wouldnt turn you in. You don't want to believe what you see in front of you, but you can't deny reality. 

You close the door and sit on your bed head in your hands. You have nothing to take with you, not that you could bring anything with you anyway. You just sit there, barely holding back tears until Patton opens the door a few minutes later.

“Hey Kiddo, I have some surprise guests! My friends are visiting from out of town and- oh Virgil, what’s wrong?” Patton asks closing the door behind him and grabbing the notepad and pencil off your bedside table.

You take the paper and pencil from him as the tears start to fall. And you write.

“I don't want to go back. I didn't think you would turn me in. I thought you were different.” You hand him the paper and you wait, ready for the rejection and holding back your tears as much as you can so the traffickers outside can't hear.

Patton takes your shaking hand in his, “Oh, Virgil no. No no no no no no no! You misunderstand. Those aren't people from the trafficking center. They are my close friends from out of town. I'm not turning you in. I would never! Why would I?”

 You shrug, you cannot gather the courage to meet his eyes. 

Patton seems disappointed, “I would never. I... I thought you might trust me more than that.” 

You take the pad back from him, “Want to. Didn't want to think you would. Can’t afford to believe you would help me for no reason. I need to be prepared.” You write.

“Prepared for what? Me turning you in?”

You nod solemnly, your breath hiccupping.

 Patton sniffs and you look up, shocked to see him crying. “Virgil, I...” He sighs, “I know it must be hard to believe i'd be nice to you after everything. I have no idea what you’ve been through, but I thought maybe you would... maybe it was enough.” 

“I want to believe you. Want you to care about me.”

Patton doesn't even attempt to hide his tears, “Oh kiddo, I do! I do care! I care about you so much. I would never want to see you hurt! Please believe me V. I care.... I mean, you... you’ve seen me crying over killing spiders even though I hate them. I don't hate you, how much more would I hate myself if I hurt you?”

You sniffle and go to write once more, “I.. I guess that makes sense.”

“Please Virgil, believe me when I say I'm never turning you in.”

“I... I think I'm starting to believe you,”

Patton smiles wide, “Can I hug you, V?”

You nod and wrap your arms around Patton, the two of you cry, not caring about your tears, resting in each other’s presence.

When finally you both calm down Patton squeezes you tight and asks, “Would you like to meet my friends now?”

You nod but you don't let go for a few more seconds. 

When you pull away you realise how much of a mess you both are, but you don't really care. If these people are friends of Patton then maybe you won't have to worry about looking your best around them.

There is a faint knock at the door, “Hey Padre, are you okay in there?”

Patton stands and opens the door, wiping the tears from his eyes, “Yeah, just a bit of a misunderstanding. You see, we weren't expecting company and well... it’s no big deal, it’s all straightened out now.”

You freeze. Standing there, on the other side of the door, in front of you... in front of Patton... it’s Him! Patton said they weren't from the center! Why would he lie?

You scramble into the corner, clutching the pad of paper desperately. 

The man sees you and his eyes widen, “Uh, are you sure? Is your friend okay?”

Patton turns around to see you curled up in the corner at the head of your bed crying and shaking your head.

“Virgil...?” Patton steps in cautiously

The “friend” steps in behind Patton and you let out a soundless scream and throw a pillow at him which he dodges before leaving and shutting the door. You immediately regret throwing the pillow. He is going to punish me now. I shouldn’t have thrown that. I should’ve gone peacefully. Now he will kill me for sure! I don't want to die! I should never have stayed here, I should’ve run away as soon as I could. 

Patton slowly approaches you, a look of confusion on his face. “Why’d you do that? What is wrong, Virgil?”

He doesn’t seem angry? You don't understand, but you figure you might as well explain. So you tear off the top page and begin a new one, scribbling furiously as the pencil smudges with tears.

“I thought you said you wouldn't send me back! Why would you lie?” You shove the paper in Patton’s direction.

He reads it, confusion never leaving his face. He hands it back to you, “I.. I'm not sending you back Virgil. I didn't lie to you. I don't understand what’s wrong.”

“You invited Master here! That's my Master! He hurt me! I don't understand! You said you wouldn’t... I thought... you said! Please don't let him kill me. I don't want to die” You run out of words as your thoughts scramble and you turn the paper towards Patton.

As he reads Patton’s face turns sad, an understanding crosses his face, and a pity.

“Oh... kiddo, that’s not... that’s not the man that hurt you. That horrible man, his name is Remus. Outside the door is his twin brother, my friend, Roman. They aren’t anything alike. He would never hurt you.”

“I don't believe you. That is him. He is going to kill me.”

“No one is going to lay a hand on you Virgil. I swear it. What can I do to convince you? Would talking to him help?” Patton asks gently.

You curl up tighter into a ball, “Don't wanna talk to him. Crying is disrespectful. He’ll hurt me.”

“I understand that was a rule you used to have, but that isn't a rule here. You will never be punished for showing emotion. And I promise you, Roman won't hurt you. Would I let anyone hurt you?” Patton asks, a little sterner this time.

You shake your head, “I still don't trust him.” 

Patton nods, “That’s okay. I'm not asking you to. I'm asking if you trust me?”

You nod.

“Then please, talk to him, let him explain.”

“Don't leave me alone with him! Please!”

patton shakes his head, “I won't, I wouldn’t do that to you. Would it be okay if he stays at the doorway and I stay in here with you.”

You nod, against your better judgement.

“Okay. Thank you for trusting me. I’ll go let him know the situation and make sure he knows your boundaries and then I will be right back.” Patton gets up and steps outside the door, closing it behind him. You hear him talking with the man there. Roman sounds sad but you are hesitant to believe anything the man says.

Patton comes back in and sits on the bed between you and Roman.

The man leans against the doorframe. “Hello, Virgil, is it?”

You nod. 

Roman sighs, “First things first, I just want to tell you, I'm sorry. I must've terrified you just showing up like that and I'm so sorry for scaring you. I wish we were meeting each other under different circumstances, but let me introduce myself.” He bows to you before speaking again, “I’m Roman. I am not my brother, I promise you. I... I know my brother is a terrible person. I know what he does to people like you and I wish there were enough words in the English language for me to explain how sorry I am that you had to endure... him. I'm so so so tremendously sorry he hurt you like that.”

You stare at him, “That doesn’t sound like master. He doesn’t have the same mustache as master. Is this a trick? Could he really be someone else?”

Roman shakes his head, looking away, “I wish there was something I could say but I, I know nothing I say is going to make it better. Just... please, know i'm not like him. I would never lay a hand on you. I swear it on my life, on the life of my mother and my father. I swear on all that I hold dear that I would never hurt a hair on your head.”

This man is not acting like your old master. Maybe he is a different person. You write a response and show your words to Patton.

“How can I know for sure that you wont hurt me?” Patton reads for you. 

Roman chuckles wryly, “Well, first off Patton would kill me if I ever even thought about it, but on a more serious note... let me show you something.”

Patton looks shocked, “Roman you don't have-”

Roman smiles sadly at him, “I want to do this, Padre. He deserves to know.”

Roman turns around and grabs the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up to expose his back. Your eyes widen as you take in the scars peppered across the skin, most noticeably, the brand on the lower right corner of his back... one that perfectly matches your own.

After a moment Roman speaks, though his voice shakes, “My brother was horrible to me. I know what you went through... because I went through it too. If you wanted anything that could promise my pacifism, let it be the knowledge that I have endured what you have and wish it to never befall anyone else, not even my worst enemies.”

Your hand goes to your own brand as you realise what all this means. Memories of Remus mentioning his brother flood back to you and you fight to ward off a panic attack as everything falls into place. 

Roman lowers his shirt and turns around. Finally, you look at him without fear. This man would never hurt you. He doesn't even ask if you believe him, he just slowly steps forward, watching closely for a reaction. 

You let him sit across from you on the head of the bed and take your hands. He kisses each hand and looks you in the eyes with confidence and sincerity, “He is never going to hurt you again. I promise.”

You try to hold back the tears, but it doesn’t last and you break down crying. He pulls you in close, hugging you tightly. You calm relatively soon and pull away only to see Patton crying just a few feet away.

You reach out to him and he takes your hand, “I’m okay. I will be okay.”

The three of you take a moment to collect yourselves before Roman clears his throat, “Uh, I believe there is still one more friend to meet.” he prompts.

Patton startles, “Of course, you should come meet Logan. He would love to meet you!”

[retrovirge]

Camp Starlight (+ Contest!)

Hey y’all!

So, I had an idea for a contest!!! So basically, here’s how it goes:

Artists can draw any scene from this very story that they so desire, whatever image comes into their head for inspiration. You post it and tag it with #starlightdrabbledraw and leave a link to this post in your own (you dont have to, but it would be preferred!) and boom! You’re done! (I’m holding this on amino too so the winners will be selected from both platforms.)

I’m gonna make it so entries are due October 15th :3 you can totally enter after that, you just won’t be eligible for prizes :))

And uh I’m also gonna be giving out prizes! So here they are!

1st Place

Either: a longer short story (A story that’s anywhere from 2000-4000 words, maybe more), two short stories/extended art drabbles (at the most 1500 words) or four drabbles/art drabbles (under 1000 words) (keep in mind if you choose the longer story it will take me quite a while due to my own personal reasons.)

2nd Place

Either: A short story/extended art drabble (at the most 1500 words) or three drabbles/art drabbles (under 1000 words)

3rd Place

Two drabbles/art drabbles

4th Place

One drabble/art drabble

(Please keep in mind I can’t write all prompts because some give me a lot of writers block, so I may have to ask to change prompts with you if you win. Also, for art drabbles, I will need proper, linked credit to the artist so I can message them and ask if I can repost.)

So yeah, there you go! There will also be honourable mentions and stuff, but yeah! AnYways, onto the story! (Which you can totally just read on your own if you don’t feel like entering the contest ^w^)

⚠️Triggers⚠️

Remus’ innuendos, mentions of fire, mentions of bugs

Word Count - 3132

~

”Come on, kiddos! Let’s go camping, it’ll be fun!”

Those were the words that Patton had spoken a few nights ago. Roman had mixed feelings about it. Virgil was anxious. Logan was... Quite eager, actually, but didn’t show it. There was so much nature to study out there, he was very much excited. Janus didn’t seem to care, and Remus seemed to be marvelling at all the mischief he could cause while camping.

And that’s how they found themselves in the car a few days later. Roman and Patton loudly singing in the front seat, Remus occasionally butting in and changing the lyrics to ‘more fun ones’ (Patton did not like that very much), with the other three sides covering their ears in the backseat, passing around looks of mutual annoyance.

The car ride felt like forever, but they had eventually pulled up at the campsite. They parked the trailer, pitched the tent (cause there wasn’t enough room for everyone in the trailer), and set up anything else they needed to. And then they went off, deciding to check out the campsite. Patton decided to have everyone split up into groups of two, and allow them to rotate whenever they wanted. After making sure everyone was okay with that, off they went. Logan went with Janus, Roman went with Patton, and Virgil went with Remus.

So what were they all doing? Well, Janus and Logan decided to go through a walk in the forest. Logan was going a little nuts and jotting down notes for any unknown piece of nature he spotted, while Janus was simply admiring everything. Holding leaves in his hands, smelling flowers, stuff like that. He looked over at Logan, sighing as he watched him zip around. “Nerd, come here-“

Logan looked up, a look of confusion spreading over his face. He hopped up from where he was kneeled, walking over to Janus. He raised an eyebrow. “How may I assist you?”

Janus surprised him by simply sNatching his notebook. “Hey-! Janus, you can’t-“

”Shush, Logan. You /don’t work enough/, alright? Why don’t you just live in the moment with me for a bit?” The snake man asked, head tilting to the side as he cocked his eyebrow into a raise.

Logan opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again, letting out a sigh, realizing Janus would not let up if he refused. “...Fine.”

They walked on, Logan’s eyes flickering around curiously as Janus took his time to admire nature. Logan would occasionally glance over with pleading eyes for the notebook, but Jan just shook his head at him, giving a small smile when Logan sighed.

Eventually, they found some animals. Some bugs, some squirrels, even some birds. Logan found himself kneeled down, holding a White-spotted sawyer. Janus on the other hand, took out some bird seed and got a bird onto his hand. They were both silent, growing content with their current actions and habitat.

• • •

Meanwhile, Roman and Patton were off discovering the children’s playgrounds of the campsite. Roman found himself going between sliding down a slide and spinning on a... Spinny thing, while Patton was going between swinging on the swings and sliding down a pole. The pair ignored any weird looks they got from kids, along with other adults that happened to be around. They were just having fun, and they knew that.

Roman let out a loud laugh as he slid down the slide for the umpteenth time, looking to Patton with a grin. “We should go to parks more oFten, Padré! It’s so much fUN!”

Patton responded with a big smile as he swung as high as he could on the swing, a loud laugh escaping him. “I know!! Good golly miss molly, we really do.” He grinned, slowing down the swing a bit before hopping off with a laugh. “I wonder if there are any more parks down here??”

Roman let out a gasp, now on a spinning pole. “Patton, you’re a genius!” He hopped off of his pole, stumbling over to Patton due to being dizzy from the spinning. The moral side tilted his head, smiling at the prince. “We should look around more! I’m not sure how long we’ve been at the park, actually.” He laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck, then clapped his hands together. “Well, that’s okay! We can change that!” He smiled at the eager nod in agreement he received from Roman.

And then they were off. On an adventure to find another park. Wandering through the campground, skipping and admiring animals and flowers, singing random songs, all in all, just bois bein bois.

Soon, they stumbled upon another park, eyes widening at just how much bigger this one was. The last one had a small playground and some swings, but this one had two climbing areas with slides, one of those circular shaped things where you could hop on and spin it, and last but not least, a swingset for both babies/toddlers and anyone older than that. It made the last playground pale in comparison.

Patton and Roman were of course quick to get to work testing all the playground equipment, the two coming up with a number system to rate the ‘fun-ness’ level of each one. Because why the heck not?

Patton even discovered a cool looking bug, and Roman snapped a picture of it on his phone so they could ask Logan about it later. Patton found the bug kinda creepy, but Roman held it no problem, only letting out a high pitched scream when it flew away. Because let’s be honest, bugs can look kinda scary when they fly away, unless it’s a butterfly.

All in all, they were enjoying themselves, happily playing and discovering and laughing like a group of kids.

• • •

Then you got Virgil and Remus.

The pair had decided to go searching around for anything to do really, Virgil trying to keep Remus’ head out of subjects such as what he could possibly throw in the fire, or how easy it was to set everything aflame. He claimed it was for scientific reasons, but Virgil knew this wasn’t Logan he was with.

So he simply gave Remus a small jar with some dirt, telling him he could get some worms because a few of the sides had mentioned wanting to go fishing at some point. More specifically, Janus. Logan said he might join in, and Roman had said he wanted to watch to see what they would catch. (Janus did not look amused, knowing Roman would probably scare all the fish away.)

Virgil kept a close eye on Remus, wandering around himself. He couldn’t figure out for the life of him what to do, so he just went and bought some firewood. By the time he emerged from the store, Remus was there, jumping up and down and yelling about how he caught a twisty pink earth noodle.

After a bit of chatter, Virgil and Remus wandered back to the campsite, where Virgil tried to get a fire going. However, his fear got the best of him and he chickened out. (But luckily, Janus came back to get something and gladly lit the fire for him, before leaving.)

So now they were simply sat around the fire, roasting hot dogs for dinner. Well... Virgil was. Remus was just throwing them in the fire. After about three hot dogs being thrown in (Virgil telling him “stop it.” every single time-) Virgil looked up with a sigh. “Remus!” He hissed. “Quit throwin’ hot dogs in the fire! They weren’t very cheap and we’re gonna run out!”

Remus just let out a laugh, smirking at Virgil with a raised eyebrow. “Well, I guess if we run out, I’ll just have to use yours then~” He laughed at Virgil’s reaction, aka an obnoxious groan and facepalm. “Oh my g o d, shut up...” Remus just grinned at him. “M a k e m e.”

Virgil stared at him for a few seconds, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. He shook his head and looked down at his own cooking hot dog, twisting it in circles slowly. “You’re paying for the next batch if we run out.”

Slowly, the rest of the sides began to make their way back to camp, just in time for the sunset. Remus did in fact have to go buy more hot dogs, and soon the sun was setting, and they were all roasting and or eating hot dogs around the fire, laughing and talking.

Eventually the conversation got to sleeping arrangements. They brought three tents, so that meant two people per tent. After some decision making, they chose the same groups they went off in today. Logan and Janus, Roman and Patton, and Remus and Virgil.

They roasted marshmallows around the fire, most of the sides roasting golden marshmallows, unlike Remus, who completely burnt his marshmallow and ate the s’more in one bite.

After dinner and s’mores, the sun had completely set, and they chose to go on a walk down to the dock that was by the lake. At first, Logan hadn’t wanted to go, but soon after, he was proven very wrong, and he knew damn well he was extremely glad that he was dragged on the walk.

The reason? Upon arriving at the dock, Logan took one look up and any negative thoughts, emotions, and words all just faded away.

Stars.

Hundreds of beautiful stars freckled across the night sky, the light of the moon reflecting in the ocean. He swore he could almost see galaxies among the bright lights, his eyes widening as a shooting star bolted across the sky.

It was truly beautiful.

Logan could sit out all night and admire every star individually, and he knew even then he wouldn’t be able to take in the full beauty of all the stars visible to him, even by morning.

Sitting down at the end of the dock, Logan let his eyes flicker among the stars. He tried to take in the beauty. Take in the light. Truly enjoy the stars. And he was. Well, until...

”Hey- guys?”

Everyone perked their heads up to look at Virgil, who had spoken. He had his eyebrows furrowed and he was looking around. “I... Don’t mean to be a party pooper, but... Could we go back-? It’s... Kinda spooky out here.”

Roman let out a loud groan, making a dramatic noise. “Come o n ! We ju st got here! Look at the stars!” He threw his arms out, flopping down next to Logan. “Look at the beauty our universe holds! Look at mE, for crying out loud!” He pointed at himself, making Logan facepalm.

Virgil sighed. “...Okay. I can just go back myself, then.” He mumbled, crossing his arms and turning to leave, only for Patton to stop him. “Ah, ah ah! You aren’t leaving on your own, us 6 have to stick together! So we’re all going back right now!” He said, making Roman huff. “But- but Patton! We’re adults!! We can stay out here alone!”

“Yes, and I’m well aware of that. But I don’t want you guys to stay out here alone! Something could happen!” He said, making the other groan. “Come on, we’re going.” He began to walk back with Virgil.

Logan had a visible frown on his face as he got up, making Roman tilt his head and go over to him, letting Jan and Remus walk ahead of them. “You good, nerd?”

Logan sighed. “Satisfactory, yes.” He said as they began to slowly walk. Roman frowned. “You’re a bad liar. You can talk to me, y’know?” He said quietly, starting to look around.

Logan was silent, and Roman didn’t push it. He didn’t want to make Logan mad at him, so he simply left it. Until Logan did speak. “...I am simply... Unhappy about leaving the dock. The stars were quite remarkable to look at, and... I’m unsure if they’ll resemble this exact, beautiful state again.” He said quietly, frowning and letting his head bow, quietly watching his feet move forward and drag back with every step he took.

Roman frowned a little, letting out a sigh. “...I see. I’m sorry, Logan.” He said quietly, pushing his hands into his pockets. “That’s quite an understandable reason to be upset, if it makes you feel any better.” He pointed out, making Logan sigh and nod. “Thank you, Roman.” He cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “...Well, we are almost back at camp. I suggest we put out the fire and make use of our tents for the night.” He said, receiving a nod in response from Roman.

After arriving back to camp and talking a little more, they did just that. They put out the campfire, confirmed sleeping arrangements a final time, got ready for bed, then ducked into their tents. Everyone fell asleep quite quickly, except for Remus, who kept getting mumbles from an annoyed Virgil saying, “Go to hell to sleep.”

Oh, and Logan. He was laid out in his tent, his glasses next to his sleeping bag as he lay curled up, shivering from the cold and sighing. He could hear Janus’ soft breathing from the sleeping bag next to his, and part of him wanted to wake him up so the nerd wouldn’t be confined to his lonesome, but he wasn’t going to take sleep from Janus for his own comfort.

He eventually did lure off to sleep, soft snores escaping him as he lay curled up in the beanbag, his mind slipping into a dreamless, yet relaxing state.

It was a long night, yet peaceful.

• • •

”Logan- Logan! C’mon, wake up-!”

”Mmh...?”

Logan stirred in his sleeping bag, eyes slowly opening as his head turned to face wherever the whisper-shouting voice was coming from. His eyes fluttered open, and he let out a small gasp as Roman was suddenly there. The prince pressed his fingers to his lips and shushed Logan, whispering to him. “Shh... C’mon.” He carefully left the tent, and Logan was just confused at this point.

He glanced around tiredly, grabbing his glasses and putting them on after rubbing his eyes, turning to look at Janus’ sleeping bag. He was still there. Still fast asleep, unphased by Roman’s sudden appearance.

Logan opened his mouth and then closed it, letting out a sigh. He carefully crawled out of the tent, frowning confusedly when he noticed it was still dark. ...What was Roman planning?

Getting up, he quietly zipped up the tent, then made his way over to Roman. “...What are you doing?” He whispered, a confused frown on his face.

Roman just grinned at him, taking his hand. “You’ll see.” He whispered, taking him out of the camp area containing the tents- where everyone was still sleeping, Logan assumed- turned left, and began to walk.

Logan asked questions all the way to their destination, until they eventually began to near it, and it clicked in Logan’s mind.

They were going to the dock.

”Roman, why...” Logan’s face was full of confusion as he turned his head to look at the prince-like side, who just smiled at Logan. “You said you wanted to see the stars for longer, did you not?” His voice came out in a soft, gentle tone as he guided Logan onto the dock, stopping near the endHe smiled at the nerd, carefully going down and laying on the dock, ignoring the wetness of the wood below him. He gazed at the sky for a few moments, then looked to Logan again. “...Well, are you going to watch the stars with me, or not?” He said, to which Logan shook his head as if he was snapping out of something, then carefully nodded, slowly laying down next to Roman.

They were quiet as they silently laid there, gaze flickering among the pretty stars that rested above their heads, just enjoying the stars and each other’s company.

”Mmm... Logan?”

”Yes, Roman?”

”...Do you know a lot about astrology?”

”...I’d say so, yes.”

”Can... Can you teach me a bit?”

”Why... Certainly, Roman.”

And so Logan began to talk quietly, falling into a ramble. About constellations, about the solar system, things like that. Roman stopped watching the stars, turning to gaze at Logan with fond eyes. He could listen to him talk for hours. Although Logan’s voice may have seemed monotone and lacking most emotion, Roman liked it. Adored it, even. He wasn’t sure why, but Logan’s voice was just beautiful to him. God, Logan was just...

Roman wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing, but it happened before he could stop it. Next thing he knew, he was moving closer and closer, until eventually...

His head moved up, and his lips were on Logan’s.

Logan was shocked by it at first, his eyes wide. Roman realized what he was doing and pulled away, letting out a gasp. “Oh- jesus, um- I’m sorry, I didn’t m-mean to do that-“ He started to get up. “I-I can just-“

Logan pulled him back down before he could go, pressing their lips together once again. Roman let out a gasp, freezing for a moment before slowly melting into the feeling, closing his eyes and returning the kiss. “...Hm.”

They stayed like that for god knows how long, just smoochin’ under the stars. They both felt calm, and quite good.

Eventually, they pulled away for air, both panting as they stared at each other. Roman was the one to break the silence. “...W-Wow.” Logan blinked, nodding in agreement. “...Y-Yeah. Wow.”

Roman gazed at him for a few more minutes, eyes slightly wide. He eventually took a small breath and let out a little laugh, Logan responding with a flustered smile. The creative side carefully laid down next to Logan, and they stayed quiet. They could talk about the kiss later, but for now they just wanted to enjoy the stars, and enjoy each other.

Eventually, they fell asleep under the night sky with a small smile occasionally coming up on both of their faces, fingers intertwined which eventually led to the two scooting closer to one another.

You can imagine the fun that pursued when Patton woke up and was unable to find Logan or Roman anywhere.

~

apologies if this seems rushed ^^;

[kyukun]

Boyfriend Hotline (OumaSai)

beTA KOKICHI IS A GIFT AND I AGREE I ALSO WANT TO SEE MORE CONTENT OF THEM. this is a mess but i hope you enjoy :>>

title: Boyfriend Hotline

summary: What can you do when your relatives are coming to visit you and you don't want them to know that you're lonely as fuck? Well, call up your best friend and ask him to be your pretend boyfriend of course!

word count: 1502

~~ prompt starts after cut! ~~

Shuichi hung up in a cold sweat, an immense feeling of panic and dread washing over his entire body the minute he ended the call. Well he was fucked now. 

 Shuichi let out a heavy sigh as his hands covered and slid down his face in agony. His family had called, and usually, he'd be pretty happy about their call but this time was different. They were expecting something from him. They were expecting that he had a date with him when he goes over. 

 Okay so maybe he was a bit guilty of sprinkling a bit of lies every now and then to ease their minds, and maybe he told them he was seeing someone just to make things seem like he wasn't going to sleep in an empty bed every night. 

 He was a young man after all, and it's even sadder that a twenty-three year old like himself still hadn't found love yet. While there was still time to find that love, Shuichi couldn't let down his family. He didn't like lying to them.

 He needed a plan and quick. He started going down the list of people he could ask to be his pretend date, but he could only manage to shorten his list to one person. Kokichi Ouma. Not a very wise choice but he didn't exactly have the luxury to be picky. He went through his contact list and finally landed on Kokichi's number.

 He explained to him his situation and surprisingly, he had agreed to it. Now here he was, sitting outside of Kokichi's apartment waiting for him to meet him outside as the car radio blasted music at a low level. He saw Kokichi swiftly exit his apartment, walking down the stairs and into his car. He inhaled deeply, mentally preparing himself for tonight. Kokichi opened the door and sat inside, buckling himself in. "Heya, Saihara-chan! Sorry if I took too long. Gotta look good for your family." He winked, nudging the slightly flustered male on the side.

 His hands were both placed on the steering wheel while his feet remained stuck on the brakes. "Are… are you sure you're okay with being my pretend date?"

 Kokichi rolled his eyes as Shuichi stared at him with a mix of anxiety and a need for reassurance. He opened the visor mirror and had begun looking at himself to make sure things were still looking good and fresh. "Saihara-chan. The only hetero thing about me is my heterochromia. It's fine, don't worry." Once he got one last look at himself, he slammed the mirror shut and turned back to him.

 "Besides, lots of people have told us we act like a couple anyway so we should be fine."

 Good point.

 "Okay… Should I go over the steps one more time or—"

 "Meet your family, introduce myself, say that I met you at Uni and we've been together for a year, yada yada. I know."

 He smiled with a slight chuckle. Leave it to Kokichi to remember plans. Though, his question was met with sarcasm, he did deliver the correct steps. He could give him that much credit. "Good. And to make it more realistic, we should hold hands and… stuff." God this was embarrassing.

 He didn't know if it was embarrassing because it was Kokichi or that he had never done this before. Either way, it made him want to crawl under a rock and never come out at the mere thought of it. "My, my! Is my dear boyfriend suggesting we be risky in front of his family? Dear golly, I think I might just have a heart attack from these unholy thoughts!" Kokichi teased, the back of his hand pressing against his forehead as he eased himself into the seat with an innocent grin plastered on his lips. 

 Talk about dramatic.

 "N-no! Just suggesting that holding hands should be enough to convince them. Just… no kissing."

 Kokichi laughed as Saihara had begun to drive off, "Whatever you say, sugar bun. No kissing it is." 

 "And stop with the pet names."

 The rest of the drive went well. They had eventually arrived at Saihara's parents' house, to which, went well much to both of their disbelief. They ended up sharing a dinner together as well and asked the usual "meeting my significant other's family" type questions such as: "Where did you guys meet?" and "How long have you been dating?" You know, things they've already gone over.

 Though this brings us to probably the most difficult one that they've asked that neither of them expected. "So, Kokichi, tell us what you like about our son." His dad asked, folding his hands over the dinner table and drawing his eyes towards the mismatched eye colored boy.

 His gold and purple eyes flickered nervously to Shuichi with a blush and then back to his dad. "W-well, everything of course!" He tried his best to laugh it off but this response didn't seem to be satisfactory. "Oh, come on! Be more specific! What were the things that made you fall for him." Shuichi could feel himself grow embarrassed now as well.

 "Dad—"

 "Shu baby, please! We want to know." 

 Kokichi's heart rose the more he thought about it. He had never really thought about what he had felt towards Shuichi. They were friends. Best friends. But… is it wrong of him to think that that's not all they were? In retrospect, he had felt something towards his fake date before but he had tried to discard those feelings deep, deep down. Guess now would be the perfect opportunity to let them back out.

 "Honestly, I'm not quite sure myself. Shumai has always been so nice to me, to everyone. He has such a soft side but he can be withdrawn at times, and that makes me want to only be with him more. His eyes just sparkle when he's around people he loves as though they're the only things that matter to him. And he's got this killer smile that makes me weak in the knees."

 At this point, Kokichi had begun staring at Shuichi, love in his eyes. Shuichi wasn't sure if he was the best actor in the world or if this was all true. He continued, "That heart of gold and insanely smart attitude of his is what draws me in. He understands me more than anyone else in the world." He smiled shyly, a deep red scattering his cheeks. Holy shit he just said that out loud.

 Oh shit.

 Oh fuck.

 That wasn't acting.

 "Wow… that was touching. Shuichi, you're so lucky! Give him a big ol' kiss, hun!" 

 "Uhm, Mrs. Saihara I don't think that's—" Before Kokichi could politely decline, he was cut off by Shuichi who pulled their faces together in a kiss. Shuichi had his hands towards the back of his jaw while the other hand rested on his thigh. His eyes were widened but he slowly had begun easing him into the kiss, eventually kissing back. He wasn't quite sure what had gotten into him but he liked it.

 Shuichi broke away from the kiss, glancing back at both of his parents who were also visibly flustered. "We'll be back." He gripped Kokichi by the hand and carried him away without a word. He took him to the backyard, the smallest amounts of light peeking through the window as the sky above them glistened. "What was that? I thought you said no kisses—"

 "I know what I said. It was just for… It was just to convince them. Sorry if it was a little excessive."

 He frowned. That didn't seem like it was just to convince them. That kiss had feeling. "I don't believe you."

 "Then what you said—Did you mean it?"

 "W-what? No, of course not."

 "I don't believe you." Shuichi smirked, locking eyes with Kokichi's. His eyes really suited him surprisingly. They were really pretty. The golden hue of his left matched his determination and playfulness while the royal purple one had a mystery to it, an alluring one at that. Kokichi gave a half-hearted smile, his face turning red. "Haha, touché."

 "I hope I played the part of your pretend date well, ha… Hopefully it was convincing enough! People have always complimented me on my acting skills." He tried his best to conceal the awkwardness in his tone but to no avail. He had begun twirling his hair in a fit of skittishness. Shuichi could feel his own heart race the more he thought back on the kiss. 

 "Maybe when you go back in… you won't have to pretend to be my date."

 He froze, eyes slowly drifting over to Saihara who had now been blushing himself. He didn't say another word and instead left Kokichi alone, and headed back inside. 

 What the hell?

 What did he mean by that?

 It took a minute for him to process the words until he realized what he had meant.

 Oh.

 Oh.

 So that's what he meant. 

 "You smooth bastard."

[earthseaborealis]

New Traditions and Worlds

My @homestuckss gift for @dykeiatrist ! I used “Davekat,” “Jane,” and “Hurt/Comfort” (with a bit of DirkJake) to create a cute little holiday fic! Hope you enjoy it :D Have a wonderful holiday season!!

Also on ao3 (@detective_in_space if the link doesn’t work!)

“Twas the week before Christmas,” Dave started before pausing, “Yo Rox, what’s somethin’ that rhymes with Christmas?”

“Ass? Wait, no, no that doesn’t work… Christmas…” Roxy muttered, “Okay so, like, the only thing I’ve got is Christmas, but you absolutely cannot rhyme ‘Christmas’ with ‘Christmas,’ right?”

“You’re definitely right,” Dave sighed as he scratched out the words in his notebook, “Dude, like absolutely nothin’ rhymes with Christmas words.”

Roxy moved over and rested their hand on his shoulder, “Karkat will appreciate the thought at least. Hey, there are other things than Christmas raps, like festive interpretive dances! Or Festive slam poetry?”

“Well, duh, it’s Karkat we’re talkin’ bout,” Dave laughed, but in his defense, it was true. Karkat would yell and insist that he hated Dave’s most ‘ironic’ gifts, but there was a certain fondness in his tone. Like it was just a whole elaborate game. The edges of Karkat’s eyes would wrinkle as his lips curled into a small grin. A small chuckle would escape, which Dave would obviously point out, and in response, Karkat would punch him (before wrapping him in a hug). Oh god, that was the best… 

“Hey sleeping beauty,” Roxy interrupted, as they lightly hit the side of Dave’s head, “Did ya invite me over here just to fall asleep?”

“Nah dawg, I was just thinkin’ about the usual,” Dave brushed their hand aside. 

“So,” Roxy drawled, “Karkat?” Roxy wiggled their eyebrows at Dave. 

“No,” Dave exclaimed, “Fuck, I mean, no. Hey, do ya know any, like, traditions that people do for Christmas and all that jazz.” Now that was a smooth change of topics. 

“Smooth like a baby’s bottom,” Roxy laughed, “But, nah. I didn’t even know Christmas was like a real thing… thought it was an urban myth or something.” Oh, right. Roxy lived in some highly-futuristic society that was enslaved by a fish bitch, but there was none of that oppressive dictatorship on Earth C. Trolls, Carpacians, Humans, and well, any other species were free to chill by the fire and enjoy whatever holiday they wanted. Now that, was what sweet, sweet democracy was about (preach Obama). 

“Lit, lovin’ that we’re both oblivious of any cultural traditions… hey, you think one of the Crocker-Harley-English… berts... would know more about this? I’m feelin’ like they’d be all up in that shit,” Dave said, “Oh fuck, I’m so smart. That’s like totally their thing.”

After quickly picking up all his stuff and saying goodbye to Roxy, Dave picked up his phone and dialed Jane Crocker, the holiday expert, on his way home. Wait, oh fuck, what if she was busy? It’s not like he usually talked to her, so was it out of the question? Oh no, maybe he should’ve just texted John...

The phone picked up, “Hello, Jane Crocker speaking?”

“Oh… oh! Hey Jane, it’s Dave… ya know… Dirk’s cooler bro,” Dave started. He shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket and kicked a stray pebble on the sidewalk. Yes, he could be floating around, but exercise was important. 

“Well, howdy there Dave. It’s been a while since we’ve talked, hasn’t it,” she chuckled, “Anyways, did you need anything?”

“So, like, Rox and I were talkin’ about Christmas and stuff… and well, we’re both dumb and have no idea what people actually do for it, so I thought you might be the expert on the subject? Because it totally seems like it’d be up your ally,” Dave rambled on. 

“Well golly, I’m flattered. It’s been a while since I’ve actually celebrated the holiday, but of course, I’ll help you! Before the game, my father and I had so much fun celebrating… let’s see… Well, I’m sure you already know this, but we’d go out to a farm together and pick out a tree. I’d always search for the fattest tree, and my father would help me cut it down. And then we’d go get Hot Cocoa and pick out ornaments together, and well, oh sorry, I’ve gotten a bit off-topic, haven’t I,” Jane apologized.

“No, no! You’re literally the best… lemme just get a piece of paper to write this on,” Dave fumbled around his captchalogue, and pulled out an old notebook (of course, with Obama on the cover). “Okay cool, I got one, hit me with all that sweet, sweet info.”

“Alright… let’s see, what else… oh, well after we decorated the tree, we’d make and frost sugar cookies and cakes together. Oh! Karkat and you are welcome to come over together sometime and make cookies with me if you’d like,” Jane offered. Hell yeah, she was a literal legend. Roxy and Dirk had the best friends. 

“Yeah, dog, we’d love to! I’ll hit you up with a date once Karkat checks the calendar. You know him and… schedulin’,” Dave said as he continued to write down Jane’s suggestions. 

Jane chuckled, “Sounds good… and one more thing… My father and I would always put cheesy Christmas music on. That was the best… we’d make absolute fools out of ourselves, but it was so much fun. Literally, we’d just dance around and belt the lyrics… those we’re the days,” Jane’s voice started to crack… fuck… had Dave made her cry? “Sorry…” she continued, “I don’t mean to be so emotional. Oh lord, I’m sorry. I… I hope I helped you a bit, and just, feel free to come over whenever for cookies…” 

“Fuck, no,” Dave searched his brain… what would Karkat say… “Sorry for bringin’ up those memories. I know it sucks and all. I’ll give you some time and just hit you up later.” 

“Yes, that’d be great… see you later then,” Jane said as she hung up. 

Well, shit, Dave had already made one person cry and it was only 11 a.m. Maybe Christmas was just an emotional time and stuff. Jane was cool, though, so he hoped that she was okay. Plus, she gave him some kickass advice, and he was so ready to get his holiday spirit on. 

The rest of the walk to his place was boring. Dave tried to come up with some more sick raps for his Christmas album, featuring the new and improved version of “Jingle Bells.” The air was crisp and way too cold for Dave’s Texan roots (he blamed John for the freezing wind), so he was thankful when he finally reached the door. 

“Yo, Karkat, I’m home, and I come with words of wisdom from the one and only Jane Crocker herself,” Dave announced as he closed the door behind him. He attempted to throw his coat and hang it up, but it fell clumsily to the floor. He shrugged it off and continued through the cozy lil’ condo, finding his way into the kitchen, where he found Karkat doing a load of laundry. Yes, the washing machine and dryer were in the kitchen… it was only the most ironic, British mom location for them. Dave, being the coolest man to ever exist, ran up to Karkat and hugged him from behind. 

“Jesus fucking shit Dave! Are you trying to give me a blood pusher attack?” Karkat screeched as he jumped like fifty feet in the air (okay maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but it basically happened). 

“Nah dude, you wouldn’t dare be all anime protagonist on me and faint. Like, imagine me runnin’ to cradle you in my arms while you murmur ‘I’m goin’ to have to kawaii the shit out of your desu.’ Literally, imagine that” Dave rambled. 

Karkat groaned at this, “Stop spending time with Dirk. You’re turning into a shitty weeb Karkat said as he pushed Dave away. 

“I can’t help it… it’s who I am,” Dave clutched yo his chest and fell to the ground, pulling the other boy down with him. Karkat’s words. The worst weapon of all. 

“I’m going to go live with Kanaya and Rose,” Karkat grumbled, falling to the ground as dramatically as possible (making sure to land on Dave with as much force as possible). 

“Like you’d do that,” Dave scoffed, “She’s worse than me. Plus, is you did, we couldn’t be all romantic and celebrate human holidays together. C’mon dude, we gotta act like a high school couple. Get all up in each other’s space and kiss under the mistletoe. Oh, speakin’ of that! I talked to Jane, who is literally the best, and she was like ‘oh Dave! Check out this super lit tradition I did back on the o.g. Earth. Like, you get to cut down a tree and decorate with the most ironic ornaments.’” 

“Sound detrimental to the environment and a waste of time. What’s the point of celebrating a fucking tree,” Karkat asked.

“Dude, it’s a pine tree, which is superior to all other trees. Besides,  it’s about family and friends. I mean, I never celebrated Christmas with Bro, but you can’t just diss Karen like that,” Dave said, using his best white mom voice. 

“Fine whatever. I’ll celebrate your dumb human holiday, but I call picking out the decorations,” Karkat bargained as he stood up and dusted off his pants (getting rid of Dave’s germs).

“Hell yeah, deal! Get your coat on, we’re gonna get a tree and bring it in our house,” Dave exclaimed, quickly getting off the ground. 

The boys quickly got ready and we’re out the door, hopping into their car. Dave has gotten it because well, basically of all Karkat and his friends could fly. He has listened to Karkat’s complaining enough and invested in an older, used minivan. And man, did he love the thing. Hey, maybe he’d become a car person after the holidays were over. 

Dave was about to drive to the nearest park with a saw, but Karkat demanded that he call and ask Jane first. Jane recommended a small farm in the middle of nowhere, and with the use of a GPS, they eventually found their way there (after a few hours of trial and error).

“Jane said that fat trees were better, but honestly, I’m lovin’ this tall ass one right here. I mean look at it. It’s taller than the Empire State Buildin’… wait, is that still a thing? Like an Earth C Empire State Buildin’?” In Dave’s defense, it was a totally valid question. Like, did Earth C have the same seven wonders of the world? Who knew. 

“Shut the fuck up. We’re here for a tree, not imperialism,” Karkat groaned, “And besides, our house isn’t big enough for that.”

“But Karkat, the economy,” Dave whined, “But like, what about this tiny one… it reminds me of you, short stacks.”

Karkat shoved him, “And the other reminds me of your flat ass.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment… since you're lookin’ at my ass and all,” Dave pulled down his Stiller shades and winked.

“Shut up, you fucking twink. Let’s just celebrate your weird human holidays and get the tree,” Karkat grumbled as he attempted to pick up the tree. 

Dave doubled over laughing as he watched the 5’3 troll struggle, but once Karkat shot him an angry glare, he rushed over to aid him (with his huge muscles, of course). “Nice, I can feel it pokin’ me through my mittens. Ten out of ten would recommend.”

After endless trial and error, the pair managed to carry the tree to the register and on top of their car, a red minivan that Dave had picked out.

“So,” Karkat started, “We just put a tree in our block and decorate it? And then some creepy old man flies around the world and gives presents to children by putting them under the tree?” His eyebrows furrowed as he attempted to understand human traditions.

“Dude, I can’t even explain it. Humans can come up with some weird shit when they put their minds to it,” Dave laughed. The rest of the car ride consisted of Karkat rambling about trollian traditions. Their hands managed to find one another and rest comfortably on the center console (Dave, of course, kept one hand on the steering wheel at all times… hey, safety is important). 

Their next stop was the local hardware store. It was owned by a sweet, older Carpacian. In all honesty, she reminded Dave of the Mayor… a kindred spirit whose goal in life was to just lead and help make others happy. She made the place seem like the opposite of a place to buy tools. The place was decorated with festive garlands and cheery music rang through the air. Dave waved at her as the pair walked towards the Christmas section.

“So,” Dave drawled, “What kind of ornaments are we lookin’ for? Personally, I wanna find a dick shaped one… for the memories of cockscotch. Bless that game.”

“This is a family store, dick-muncher! And we’re getting triple-f ornaments! Family fucking friendly!” Karkat screeched, marching ahead (but not before grabbing Dave’s hand and pulling him along). 

“Fine, fine, I get it… gotta make our house grub friendly, for when John comes over,” Dave snickered as they walked the ornaments aisle. Who knew there were so many different variations in fucking decorations? You had some for your Karens, poor college students, newlyweds, too many to count. Karkat busied himself with the… glass ball? Well, whatever that kind of ornament was called. 

“These are nice,” Karkat noted, showing Dave a set of jade glass baubles (haha, like Kanaya).

“But like, dude, they’re so borin’,” Dave whined, “We gotta spruce this tree up… get it? Spruce is a kind of tree.” Dave chuckled at his own dad joke. Shit, he was hilarious. 

“Hey, I’m just trying to make this actually look nice. We’ll get other colors too, and “spruce” it up, as you say,” Karkat said as he went back to check out the boring ornaments. Dave, on the other hand, went to look at the children’s ornaments on the other side of the aisle. Most of them were new pop culture things that Dave didn’t recognize (God was he growing old). However, there were a few that grabbed his attention, and obviously, he was gonna have to show these to Karkat. 

“Yo, dawg. Check out these cool little fuckers. They’ll make our tree look mads cool,” Dave opened his hands to reveal a bunch of little crab ornaments. They were cute and not boring glass balls. Plus, crabs were like Karkat’s thing… he’d definitely appreciate them.

“Crustaceans? Don’t you just know the way to my blood pusher,” Karkat rolled his eyes, “Just put them in the basket before I change my mind.”

Dave threw his fist in the air and gave Karkat a side hug, “Hell yeah, you won’t regret this. We gonna get so festive up in this joint. All the moms will be beggin’ to check out the coolest tree in the neighborhood, which if ya didn’t catch on, will be ours.”

“You got me. I’m only doing this to make Carol jealous. She fucking deserves it,” Karkat chuckled. Yes, Dave knew he was doing swell when he made Karkat laugh. If only he could give himself a, well earned, golden star. 

“Dude yes, I fuckin’ hate Carol. C’mon, let’s get more lights. We gotta make this flashy and blow a fuse, speakin’ of which… do you know how to fix a broken fuse? Because I do not wanna call Dirk over to fix it for us. He’ll be like ‘Dave, I’m just tryin’ to celebrate the holidays with my darlin’ boyfriend… have I mentioned Jake’s ass? Damn, lemme just rant about that and never actually fix your broken utilities.’ Can you imagine the pain, Karkat,” Dave lamented? He loved his brother, don’t get him wrong, but he did not want to mess with Dirk this close to the holiday season. 

“I can, actually. Remember what happened the week before Jake’s birthday? Dirk is batshit crazy, but he gets it from you,” Karkat smirked as Dave feigned an offended expression, “Now, can we stop talking about his love life and actually pick out some decorations?”

The pair still had one more destination before they could go home and relax, maybe even decorate the tree… but knowing themselves, they’d probably wait until Christmas Eve to put the new lights and ornaments up. 

“Oh my goodness, I’m so glad you two could make it,” Jane said as she opened the door, “I’ve already got everything out, so all we have to do is bake and decorate cookies… and perhaps eat a bit of dough.” She ushered the two inside. 

“Hell yeah, you’re the best Janey,” Dave said as the pair put away their coats and walked to the kitchen with Jane. Everything was so clean, especially when compared to their house. Karkat would always fuss about his habits, but Dave felt a sort of comfort in the messiness. So what if there were shirts thrown on the floor and an unorganized stack of papers on the kitchen table. It built… character. 

“I’ve never had what you humans call ‘cookies,’ but thank you for having us,” Karkat added. 

“Oh please, it’s no problem. I love baking, and I especially love helping people get into the holiday spirit,” Jane said. The trio fell into a simple routine once Jane showed them the recipe, helping the two boys when need be. Dave filled the silence by rambling under his breath about whatever he deemed important, while Karkat concentrated on making his cookies perfect. 

“Hey look,” Dave exclaimed while holding up one of his doughy creations, “It’s a Karkat angel! A Kar-Angel… a Karkat Van-Angel!” His cookies were shaped into gingerbread men with nubby horns and an uncharacteristic smile. 

“And I made a Dave-Cookie… oh wait, it’s just a blob of dough, my fucking bad,” Karkat retorted, going back to rolling out his dough. 

It was a long process, but after a few hours, the boys had successfully made their first batch of Christmas sugar cookies. A few of the cookies weren’t burnt on the edges, but they were delicious nonetheless. Jane demanded that the pair take home their creations, as she didn’t have enough room in her cabinets for more holiday desserts. 

“Goodness, thank you so much for coming over and making sugar cookies! I haven’t had this much fun since… well, it’s been a while. Feel free to come by and help me whenever you all would like,” Jane chirped. 

“Of course, Janey,” Dave replied, “You best bet we’ll be back for some more goodies! Gotta get my housewife on. I can’t be accidentally poisoning Karkat with some undercooked cake.” 

“You’ve poisoned me with every meal of your’s, except the Kraft Mac and Cheese, but only because Roxy helped you,” Karkat spat. 

“Oh well, we certainly can’t have that. I’ll be seeing you both again soon then. Have a Merry Christmas and a wonderful new year!”

It was dark by the time they were home. Karkat and Dave both felt the sleepiness enter the body, as they kept yawning. It was too late to decorate the tree, so it was leaned against a corner. The pair immediately plopped down onto the couch and put on a holiday classic, Tim Allen’s “The Santa Clause,” which Dave argued was the best Christmas movie known to mankind, trollkind, and carpaciankind alike. 

“Y’know, I never imagined that I would celebrate Christmas. Like, dude, that shit was mads uncool,” Dave said out of the blue, interrupting the beautiful sound of Tim Allen interacting with CGI reindeers and kidnapped children.

Karkat groaned, “Well, me either, yet here I am, celebrating a dumb holiday for dumb human grubs.” He was just trying to enjoy this wonderful holiday film, but with Dave, silence didn’t last long. In a way, it provided comfort to the pair. He knew that Dave absolutely hated the silence, as it reminded him of his Bro. For Karkat, Dave’s endless rambling allowed him to take his mind off of his worries. It was an odd relationship, one that had taken years to achieve, but here they were… they had made it, yet Karkat knew there were still shaky moments for the two of them. Like now, for example. The pair both would jump around certain barriers, trying desperately to aid one another, while still attempting to not dig too deep. 

Dave rested his head upon Karkat’s thighs and snuggled into the pile of blankets, reminding him of their time on the meteor, “Y’know, I wouldn’t have this whole thing any other way. ‘M glad my first Christmas is with you, instead of Bro.” His words are slurred together and slightly muffled, and Karkat can’t help the stupid ass blush that creeps onto his face at the sound of them. 

“Fuck that guy,” Karkat spits. After a moment, he starts again, this time with a gentler tone, “And it’s nice to have you here too, no matter how fucking dumb your endless rants may be.”

Dave could almost hear Dirk whispering “Tsundere” in his ear as he chuckled, “Awe, love you too, KitKat.” He sits back up, nearly smacking the top of his head into Karkat’s jaw. He looks away for a second, briefly hesitating, then leans in, closing the distance between the pair. It’s just a brief peck, but it leaves the two of them speechless. Dave looks at Karkat through his shades. A light brush coated his cheeks and his lips curled into a small grin. 

Karkat pulls Dave into his side and looks towards the corner of the living room, where their small, fat tree is leaning against the wall. It was empty and in desperate need of attention (aka Crustacean ornaments). Filled with a sudden burst of energy, he paused the movie and stood up, pulling Dave with him, “Get off your lazy ass and get fucking festive. We have a tree to decorate.”

[shireness-says]

Ebb and Flow

Summary: There's nothing like the motion of the waves - especially when dealing with a baby who just won't go to sleep. Being married to a pirate with his own ship certainly has its perks. A fluffy and domestic sequel to "If I Could See Your Face Once More". Rated G. ~3.8K. Also on AO3. 

A/N: And I’m back, with more fluff! And to think, this all came out of the angstiest fic ever. You’re welcome to read those previous installments if you like - they’re all linked on AO3 - but it’s not necessary in order to enjoy this one. Big thanks to @snidgetsafan for her excellent beta skills. Featuring some Fathership references because why the hell not. Blame @distant-rose for that one.

I’ve got a few more of these in mind, but if you ever think of an idea, shoot it my way!

Tagging: @thejollyroger-writer, @profdanglaisstuff, @captainsjedi, @ultraluckycatnd, @superchocovian, @snowbellewells, @killianjones4ever82, @wellhellotragic, @ohmakemeahercules, @let-it-raines, @lifeinahole27, @kmomof4, @scientificapricot, @spartanguard, @courtorderedcake, @justanotherwannabeclassic, @teamhook

Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

~~~~~

Emma vaguely remembers discussions before she and Killian decided to have another baby, where they’d decided they really were doing great with the whole parenting thing. Their daughter was doing great - better than great, really, she was just the best kid - and they’d even been handling teenage hormones and attitude with Henry well . Obviously, they knew everything and were totally prepared.

Wrong. Completely, horrifyingly, hilariously wrong. 

It really brings into clarity the fact that Charlie was an easy baby, predisposed to tranquility and agreeability. Not that Emma and Killian love their younger daughter any less for it; it’s just that Daisy Margaret is a different experience altogether. It’s just that Charlie and her are different in every conceivable way, from Daisy’s little tufts of blonde hair to her insistence on everyone hearing her at all times. They’ve recently entered a babbling phase (which is, of course, adorable, if rather noisy), but their little girl has never been shy about crying or shrieking or whatever else to draw their attention and express her needs. Charlie had been an observer; Daisy is all action, and what she wants, she wants now.

Now that the baby is five months old, Emma is just starting to go back to work a few days a week. Both Killian and David have been picking up whatever extra shifts her deputies can’t cover for the past couple months, with Robin as extra-extra back up as needed, but it helps everyone - especially Emma and her sanity - to have her start slowly coming back into the rotation. Killian is more than happy to stay home with the girls on the days she’s working, anyways. Back when they had Charlie, David had been able to handle a good chunk of the babysitting; however, he and Snow now have three children under five, including 21 month old twins, and their hands are more than full enough. Emma’s not quite ready to leave her kids in daycare yet, so for the moment, she and Killian are alternating shifts in a complex balancing act between the station and home, with Smee authorized to handle everything down at the docks for the moment. It’s not perfect, especially on days like this, but it’s working well enough. It won’t be that much longer, either, before Emma gets over her daycare hesitance and they enroll the girls with Ashley so that Emma can get back to work full-time.

(Mostly, even if this is hard, Emma is just glad her dad’s weird twin gene hasn’t shown up in her little family yet. Some days, it feels like they’re barely keeping their heads above water with one infant and a toddler; Emma can’t imagine juggling another baby in that mix.)

Emma doesn’t doubt that Daisy would be noisy today regardless, just by nature, but the fact that the poor thing is teething doesn’t help matters. Her heart breaks just a little more with every whimper her daughter vocalizes, but she doesn’t know what else she can do. They’ve tried frozen teething rings and numbing cream and everything else they can think of, to no avail. Hell, Emma had tried relieving some of the pain with magic - though she’s not really convinced it worked. She’s a little too tired to be confident in her powers. Every time they try and lay Daisy down for a nap or just some real regular nighttime sleep, she cries even harder until one of them picks her back up. Emma’s spent the last two nights dozing in the rocking chair, and it’s… not great.

“I know, baby, I know it hurts, I’m sorry,” she croons as she bounces her daughter in her arms. Any hopes Emma might have had for an actual naptime today are quickly being dashed in a tidal wave of wails and tears.

Charlie still tries to observe everything her mother is doing, the way she’s so prone to, but her expression is decidedly unimpressed. “Baby loud,” she tells Emma as emphatically as a three year old can manage. She’s proven to be a fine enough big sister - certainly gentle and generally loving, which is probably the best Killian and Emma could have hoped for - but unimpressed is really the best way to describe her feelings towards her baby sister. The novelty of wanting to hold the baby and play with the baby and give the baby gifts has long since worn off. Charlie’s stopped even trying to identify if Daisy is feeling sad or mad or whatever else like she did at the beginning - it’s just baby loud now. Which, truthfully, is probably the best description anyways. 

“Yes she is, Bean, thank you for letting me know.” Charlie still isn’t much of a talker, so Emma and Killian both try to acknowledge and encourage her whenever she does say something. It’s obviously an inclination thing, not an ability issue - their older daughter can get going with the best of them if she’s excited or angry, insistently talking as loud as she can so that everyone can hear. “Do you need something?”

Charlie seems to think about it for a moment. She gets this cute little wrinkle in her forehead whenever she does - not that Emma’s watching in this particular moment, as Daisy lets out another ear-splitting cry. “No,” the toddler finally responds.

“Ok. You’re just keeping me company?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, that sounds nice. Thank you, sweetheart.”

Charlie just watches her bounce back and forth all over the room for a little bit, desperately pacing and humming and rocking and attempting anything short of actually knocking Daisy out with magic to get her to sleep. She’s a terrible mother for even considering that, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Or something.

She’s so tired, damn it.

Her Charlie girl is a smart one, though, and probably a lot better rested than anyone else in the house. After alternating for several minutes between playing with her stuffed fish and watching Emma’s neverending movements around the green-painted nursery, Charlie pipes up again. “We go to Golly?” Killian’s daughter has always been enamored of his ship, even if she has a little trouble pronouncing the J in Jolly sometimes. It’s pretty adorable regardless. 

Still, they’re not really in any position to make a trip to the harbor today. Emma’s an exhausted mess and showering has been… iffy at best the last couple of days. Honestly, she’s looking forward to going back to work just for the excuse to force herself into the shower and then out into the world. Right now, taking two young kids down to the docks seems an almost insurmountable obstacle without any compelling reason to force her to do it. 

“Oh, no, honey, I’m sorry, not today. Maybe you and Papa can go this weekend.” Emma tries to sound as apologetic about it as possible - Charlie is generally a pretty even-keeled kid, but one of the things that can really get her upset is being told that she can’t go on the Jolly. Absolutely her father’s daughter, honestly.

Instead of immediately dissolving into hysterics, thankfully, Charlie narrows her eyes in that stubborn way Emma knows she got from her. “Golly rocks.”

At first, Emma just thinks that Charlie has picked up some lingo from Henry. It sounds like something he’d say excitedly. It hits her though, as she notices the way she’s absentmindedly swaying back and forth with Daisy on her shoulder. Maybe her older daughter meant that much more literally. It’s not a bad idea, actually - the ship’s gentle rocking on the waves always put Charlie to sleep when she was a baby, it’d probably do the same for Daisy. If nothing else, it’s worth a shot; everything she’s trying here clearly isn’t working.

“You know what? Yeah, that’s right. Let’s go to the Jolly,” Emma agrees. “Why don’t you go get some shoes while I get Daisy’s stuff together. Do you want to make a note to leave for Papa?” If this goes well, they hopefully won’t be back by the time Killian gets home from the station; if it goes poorly, well, they can take the note off the door when they get home.

Charlie’s sweet face lights up at the prospect. “Yeah!” she exclaims before tearing out of the nursery, presumably for paper and markers. She’s proving to be quite the little artist. At three, her masterpieces still aren’t much more than scribbles, but she executes those efforts with a single-minded focus and attention to details only she can see. Maybe she’ll be an artist one day, or an architect, or something else that would let her draw for a living. 

Emma couldn’t tell anyone later how long it takes for her to change into something less ‘hasn’t left the house in three days’ and get all the various baby paraphernalia together. There’s a certain point of tired where mindless tasks blur together into a period of time that might have been five minutes and might have been thirty. All she knows is that Charlie is just finishing up her picture on the living room coffee table when she hauls the baby and her backpack downstairs. 

“Looks great, kiddo,” she makes sure to smile, running her fingers through that soft dark hair. Emma keeps expecting that eventually it’ll lose that lovely baby softness, but for now, the dark chocolate strands are still that perfect fluffy smoothness. Then again, she still loves playing with Killian’s hair, and their daughter has definitely inherited her father’s locks, so maybe she won’t grow out of it after all. Emma should have figured, though, that Charlie would bypass getting her shoes in order to draw her picture. “Let’s go get your boots and we can put this on the door.”

The stroller lives on the front porch these days, as if to announce to everyone passing by that yes, they do have kids and yes, they are kind of overwhelmed and letting things fall into a messy disaster, thanks for noticing. The real plus is that Emma can keep an eye on both girls at once while she helps Charlie with her shoes - little boots that look just like her Papa’s. Not that Emma can’t hear the snuffles and whimpers from this short distance. At least for now, Emma knows Daisy will stay put - it’s inevitable that once that little blonde baby is mobile and figures out the buckles, she’ll be an absolute terror no one will be able to keep safely contained. 

Once all the drawn-out rituals of leaving the house with kids are fulfilled - God, does she ever yearn for the day when she could just grab the keys and leave - Emma takes a last moment to dig out a crayon from the backpack that holds anything either the baby or the toddler might need and scrawl a note at the corner of Charlie’s masterpiece. Gone to Jolly - meet at docks. With one more quick flick of her hand, the note is magically tacked to the door for Killian to find when he gets home (if they don’t make it back first).

One of the many advantages of this house is that the harbor is already visible at the end of the street, just a short walk away. Technically, Emma could probably just poof the three of them onto the ship, but she’s always been a little nervous about doing that when her kids are still so little and squirmy and possibly not great about keeping a hold of her hand - not to mention the sheer amount of stuff she has to carry. It’s too many things to worry about on too little sleep. It’s barely a five minute walk anyways, and it’s a good opportunity for Charlie to get some of her energy out. It gives Emma a chance to get out of the house and actually see the light of day, too. Win-win-win, really.

Still, five minutes is a long time when you’re hauling a crammed backpack and dealing with a fussy baby and a toddler who’s finally figured out (at the exact wrong time) that she can walk further than three feet away from Mom and Dad without dying a dramatic and bloody death and is trying to exercise that right by skipping way further down the sidewalk than she should. For now she’s just trying to go pick dandelions or say hello to one of the neighbors’ dogs, but that won’t always be the case, and on a day where Emma’s bordering on too tired and frazzled to function… as much as she wants to encourage her daughter’s independence, it’s easier to keep her close. Even if it means Charlie pouts. Just another day in paradise or something. 

It’s an indescribable relief to set foot on the boardwalk, and even better to spot Captain Nemo waving from the docks. Killian’s relationship with his… whatever Nemo is (half-brother’s adoptive father is a mouthful, and somehow doesn’t seem to fully encompass the relationship Killian is slowly starting to foster on his own) often is hesitant, but Emma has always gotten on with the jovial submarine captain, and he obviously adores the girls and Henry. Somehow, in the time since he and the Nautilus have first arrived in Storybrooke, he’s become a beloved grandfather figure in the family. Hell, Charlie’s favorite stuffed animal is a soft clownfish that Nemo bought her as a baby - he’s still the only person in this crazy town who was genuinely delighted by their cartoon counterpart.

“There’s my favorite ladies!” he calls in his booming voice, striding up the floating plastic docks in a way that somehow seems natural, despite how anachronistic he and his ship look against the surroundings. Though many of the people from the Land of Untold Stories have fully adapted to Storybrooke, including modern clothing, Nemo still insists on his uniform in all but the most informal of situations. 

Before Emma can protest, Charlie has already taken off down the boardwalk with her fish to intercept her Baba Nemo. The submarine captain is good about pretending to be bowled over when the toddler crashes into his legs for a hug, much to her delight. As long as she’s in the care of another adult, Emma can’t find the energy to reprimand her for dashing off again. “Hey, Nemo,” she responds wearily. “How goes it?”

“Well, as always. Liam and I are just performing some maintenance on the old girl.” Nemo does look particularly jovial today, though Emma personally suspects it has nothing to do with his submarine. Rumor has it that he’s been seeing another captain recently, a flamboyant lightning collector who’d only started docking in town in the last year. Something about rekindling a past relationship. Emma’s mostly just happy to see such a generous and affectionate man so happy in a new way. “You though, my dear, look decidedly…”

“Exhausted? Drowning? Unshowered?”

“Overwhelmed,” Nemo concludes diplomatically. 

“That’s just the polite way of saying all of those things.”

“Ah, perhaps, but it’s more succinct, isn’t it? Now, what brings you to the shores of the sea today?” Nemo asks, crouching to make faces at Daisy. It’s a nice distraction for a moment, but then she’s right back to snuffling again and trying to gnaw at a frozen teething ring that must have melted in the summer heat already. “Is someone upset?”

“Someone’s teething, and I’m honestly getting a bit desperate for sleep. Naptime hasn’t exactly happened. Charlie suggested that we come down to the Jolly, and I’m about willing to try anything at this point,” Emma explains. 

“There is something calming about the movement of the waves, isn’t there?” Nemo comments mildly. “Now, why don’t you give me that backpack,” he gestures with a waving motion, “and I’ll take young Charlotte here, and we can get the three of you settled on the Jolly.”

It’s not a question, or a suggestion, or anything remotely up for debate. Nemo just… takes charge, with a gentle but confident authority that feels like someone’s finally letting her slacken the reins on a runaway horse.

(Killian would probably appreciate that analogy. Emma’s a little too exhausted to think about it any further.)

It’s nice to have that help, and it’s weirdly nice to be ushered into the captain’s cabin like an overgrown child. Emma wouldn’t say the seas are rough by any stretch of the word, but there’s an obvious sway underneath their feet accompanied by the sound of waves lapping at the hull. It’s all very rhythmic and soothing, and even if she didn’t think it possible, Emma feels exhaustion somehow settle even further into her bones. At least it seems to be quieting Daisy a bit, too.

Nemo notices these things. Of course he notices; at this point, Emma shouldn’t expect anything else. “Now, I will leave you and wee Daisy down here,” he commands, a benevolent dictator on lands not his own, “and Charlotte and I will be on the deck waiting for Killian. Perhaps you’ll both be able to get some sleep.”

“Thanks, Nemo,” she smiles, bouncing the miraculously quieting baby. “I hope so too.”

“I steer, Baba?” she faintly hears Charlie ask as Nemo leads her back out into the corridor. Emma has no doubt he’ll cave; he’s an absolute sucker for anything she asks. 

Maybe we’ll both finally get some sleep, Emma thinks as she sinks onto the thin mattress padding the ancient bunk. In the past, she’s needled at Killian to let her fix the stupid thing, make it larger and thicker and softer and generally better, but it doesn’t seem so bad today. Daisy has managed to slip into the long-awaited nap - one of those situations straight from awake and unhappy to out like a light. 

Emma should put her down in the collapsible crib in the corner, but she’s got a terrible feeling that will jinx it all - that the moment she lays the baby down, Daisy will just wake right back up again. And really, the bed is feeling pretty comfortable. She could just close her eyes for a few minutes, propped up at the head of the bed with the baby on her chest…

——— 

It had been a good day, Killian reflects, all things considered. The people of Storybrooke had been good enough not to completely descend into madness today, which was more consideration than they usually afforded. He did end up having to intervene in one argument between dwarves first thing in the morning - something about Mr. Clark stealing Leroy’s bacon - but that’d been the worst of it. 

(Fitz had also been kind enough not to tease him when the deputy had returned to the station after patrols, only to find Killian dozing off over the reports he was supposedly filing. It had not been his finest moment.)

He’d been looking forward to coming home and seeing his girls - even if a certain little one won’t sleep through the night and is exhausting her poor Mama and Papa - so it’d been something of a surprise to find their note taped to the door. It’s certainly unusual for them to make a trip without him, but Killian has never been one to complain about an excuse to spend the evening on his ship. Carefully, he tucks the drawing - a lovely rendition by his Charlie girl of all of them and his ship, if he’s interpreting the scribbles correctly - into his pocket for protection. It’ll look charming framed on his desk in the harbormaster’s office.

It’s all around a day for surprises, though, as when he arrives at the Jolly Roger, Emma and the wee lasses are nowhere in sight. Instead, Captain Nemo is waiting on deck, reading in one of the folding beach chairs Emma keeps in one of the cabins below. It’s an odd sight, to be sure - the electric green chair contrasted against the older man’s formal navy-colored uniform. The only thing that would make this tableau look even more unusual would be a tropical drink with a tiny umbrella. Hell, even one of those gods-forsaken speedo contraptions Emma showed him would look more natural here. 

“Killian!” he calls, waving a hand in greeting. Killian still feels somewhat awkward around the other man after all they’ve been through - and considering that includes an accidental stabbing, that’s warranted, in his humble opinion - but Nemo doesn’t seem to be hung up on it in the same way.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, Nemo,” he replies cautiously. He manages to make it friendly, of course - even at his most tired, Killian has never lost his manners - but a man is allowed to be hesitant about such a welcome.

“You’re looking for your lovely wife and daughters, I assume,” the submarine captain continues with a smile. “They’re below in the captain’s quarters. I offered to entertain young Charlotte while Emma settled wee Daisy, but when I took Charlotte back down once she got tired, both mother and daughter were sound asleep. I thought I’d keep watch until you arrived.”

It’s a touching gesture - Killian isn’t sure why he expected anything less of a man who’s been nothing but generous since he’d made Storybrooke his home. “Thank you, Nemo.” It’s not enough, but it’s a start.

“Don’t mention it,” the other man excuses with a wave and a smile. “Go see your family. You look like you could use a nap yourself - I can stay a while longer. Now go, shoo!”

It’s a touching scene that greets Killian when he enters his cabin: Emma, propped in a half-reclining position with her arms secured around Daisy on her chest, and Charlie curled into her side, head resting on Emma’s stomach and dark hair strewn every which way. Killian creeps across the room as quietly as he can, avoiding the squeaky planks with a habit born of hundreds of years to reach them, finally able to brush some of Charlie’s dark hair out of her face and carefully extricate Daisy from Emma’s arms.

It’s not quite careful enough, though; Emma’s arms tighten instinctively and her eyes flutter open as Killian starts to lift the baby away.

“Shhh, go back to sleep. I’m just going to put the baby in her crib,” he whispers. Emma hums contentedly in response, shuffling a little further down the bunk to get more comfortable. Charlotte doesn’t even stir as her mother shifts beneath her; she sleeps like a rock these days, even challenging teenaged Henry. By some miracle from the gods themselves, Daisy doesn’t wake either as he lays her down in the pop-up crib they’ve kept in the cabin since Charlie was born. A miracle it may be, but Killian isn’t nearly stupid enough to question it. 

With everyone settled more comfortably, Killian toes off his own boots, leaves his hook on the bookshelf, and crawls onto the bunk behind Charlie so that she’s cocooned between her parents and Killian can rest his stump across the both of them. 

“Did you have a good day?” Emma mumbles, obviously still half-asleep.

Carefully, Killian leans across to press a kiss to her cheek without disturbing the toddler between them. “Better now that I’m with you.”

And somehow, miraculously, with the waves chattering in the background and gently rocking the Jolly, their little family finds sleep.

[pokeprism]

Altered End: Chapter 2 (Almost Familiar)

This is chapter two of my Undertale AU! The raw text is below the cut!

PREVIOUS: Prologue --- NEXT: Friendly Reminders

Frisk regains consciousness shortly after their fall, but nothing feels right for them. Frisk gets themselves off the floor, then notices one thing right off the bat, particularly that they’ve seemed to have grown. Not in any metaphysical way, but that they are physically foot and a half taller. Frisk feels out their body and finds that they are still wearing their striped shirt on top of their shorts without any discomfort, and figures that their clothes magically sized up. Frisk then turns and sees what looks like a red humanoid outline standing in front of them. Frisk slightly jumps just before releasing a pathetic shriek, which ends up catching this strange outline’s attention.

“Huh?” the outline says as they glance at Frisk. “Oh. It’s you.” the outline continues.

Frisk looks at where the outline’s face would be, and notices the outline is becoming less of an outline as Frisk looks more closely at them. Frisk winds up to ask a question, but is quickly interrupted.

“Wait you can see me?!” the outline loudly asks.

“Um… I guess? Who are you?” Frisk softly replies.

“Oh right! I’ve never had the opportunity to introduce myself!” Chara realizes out loud. Chara puts their hand out for Frisk to shake. “I’m Chara! The first human to fall here! It’s nice to finally introduce myself to you!”.

Frisk mentally stumbled for a moment, but then collected them self enough to go for Chara’s outstretched hand. To Frisk’s shock, they were able to shake Chara’s ghost-like hand, and Frisk had a response ready as they pulled their hand away.

“So I’m guessing that little voice in my head for the last two runs was you?” Frisk asked.

“Yes indeed! That was me.” Chara gleefully replied. “So I guess we’re going through the Underground again?” Chara quickly added.

“Er… I guess so.” Frisk answered.

Frisk then turns toward the way to the next room and begins to walk in that direction, as Chara follows close behind them. They both make it into the next room with little issue, but then see Flowey in his usual spot. Flowey looks squarely at Frisk and marvels at their height just before he has a realization.

“Well, that’s certainly a change. I guess being in the void made you hit your growth spurt.” Flowey remarks. “There’s a thousand other things that could have happened in there you know.” he quickly adds.

“Thanks I guess. Can you let me pass now?” Frisk irritably grumbles.

“Oh golly, you think I’m going to let you go off so soon?” Flowey says with a smirk. “I may not be a god but I’m still free to do what I want!” Flowey adds.

Frisk calmly steps toward Flowey, causing Flowey’s expression to morph to one of concern.

“You’ve already wasted enough of my time.” Frisk bellows. Frisk raises their foot and thrusts it into Flowey’s face, then bluntly commands “Leave.”. After a brief silence, Flowey quickly recedes into the ground as Frisk turns to Chara.

“Shall we go on?” Frisk asks.

“Oh sure…” Chara answers. “Wait. Where is Toriel?” Chara quickly adds.

Frisk is about to answer when Toriel walks into view. Toriel scans the room, then fixes her gaze on Frisk as soon as she makes eye contact with them. After a moment of Frisk and Toriel blinking at each other with Chara awkwardly watching, Toriel calmly paces toward Frisk with an odd look on her face.

“Greetings… I’m Toriel, caretaker of the Ruins. What brought you here?” Toriel says.

Frisk verbally stumbles for a moment then says “I want to get you all out of here.”.

“Oh really? Do you need help through the ruins then?” Toriel hurriedly responds.

“Um… I’d enjoy that.” Frisk says as Chara waves a hand in front of Toriel’s face.

“Okay then…. What’s your name?” Toriel says, still oblivious to Chara’s current existence.

“I’m Frisk. Nice to meet you.” Frisk says as they put out their hand.

“Huh. That’s a fun name.” Toriel says. “Shall we continue?” Toriel quickly adds.

Frisk nods to Toriel, then begins to walk toward the next room with Toriel following Frisk’s lead. As Toriel and Frisk leave the area, Chara rouses themself from their confusion and follows after them, then immediately notices something off. Chara sees that there is no save point under the tree, resulting in Chara dashing to Frisk in a panicked state.

“Frisk!” Chara exclaims. “There’s no save point! How are we going to progress?!” Chara continues.

Frisk stops walking  and turns toward Chara as they answer “Like anyone else does?”.

“But what if you die or something?! What then?!”.

“We’ll figure something out.”.

“Um… Excuse me, but who are you talking to?” Toriel intrudes.

Frisk verbally hesitates.

Chara puts their hand on their face and shakes their head.

“It’s my imaginary friend!” Frisk blurts out.

Toriel blinks at Frisk for a moment and calmly utters “Whatever you say Frisk. Let’s keep going.”.

After Frisk recovers from being put on the spot, both Frisk and Chara begin following Toriel through the ruins. Toriel, despite Frisk’s status as not looking like a child, continues to solve puzzles like in Frisk’s previous runs, making small talk along the way, with Frisk at most smiling and nodding in response. As a result of Frisk’s newly acquired size, the first Froggit that Frisk encountered didn’t ever bother to come out of hiding. This is when Toriel, Frisk, and Chara all stop at the start of the spike path puzzle. Toriel turns to Frisk and clears her throat.

“Frisk, I’d rather you not get hurt in the following room.” Toriel states. Toriel puts her hand out as she adds “Please hold my hand.”

Frisk silently puts their hand in Toriel’s.

Chara looks around, and realizing they’ll have to go through as well, puts their hand in Frisk’s other hand. Frisk looks back at Chara and smiles, then turns back to Toriel as she begins walking. The three of them walk through the spike path just fine, with Chara being the only one to touch the spikes without lasting consequences due to their ghost-like form. Once on the other side of the spike path, Toriel lets go of Frisk’s hand and turns to face them.

“Excuse me Frisk, I have some errands to attend to. You can either wait here or go through the Ruins yourself. What would you like to do?” Toriel says.

“I will go through the Ruins myself.” Frisk answers.

“Well that was simple. Anyway, I will see you in a moment, Frisk.”

Toriel swiftly steps through the next room as Chara looks up at Frisk. Chara seems ready for a conversation, at least in Frisk’s view, resulting in Frisk shaking their head and walking on. Chara continues to follow Frisk while attempting to make conversation.

“Isn’t it weird that only you can see me?”

No response.

“How are you so chill with what’s happening right now?”

Frisk stops walking, and after a brief pause, Frisk answers “My goal is clear now. I just need to get there.”.

“Got it Frisk. Let’s keep going.” Chara uneasily states.

Chara and Frisk continue to walk through the Ruins with little issue, seeing as the monsters’ resolve to capture the human wavered with Frisk’s new appearance. Chara had attempted to start conversations during the trek, but Frisk held firm with their desire to not speak, and by the time Frisk had convinced the rock to stay on the button, Frisk felt resigned to have to talk with their partner. Frisk clears their throat as they enter the next room.

Frisk turns toward Chara as they say “So you’re a ghost?”. Chara perks up as Frisk adds “You don’t look anything like any other ghosts I’ve seen.”.

Chara nervously adds “Oh um… I have an idea, but… I’m not sure.”.

“Well you got a starting point then.” Frisk adds.

“Uh, hello?”.

Both Chara and Frisk turn toward the source of voice, who turns out to be a familiar ghost. Napstablook had been lying down for about an hour when his zone-out session had been interrupted. Upon realizing that there are two people present, Napstablook gently floats over to both of them and looks squarely at Frisk.

“Who’s your friend, human?” Blooky asks.

Frisk verbally stumbles as they look over at Chara.

“Oh! Uh… I’m no one important….” Chara utters.

“Well you seem to be a lost soul. That’s odd...” Napstablook equivocates.

“O-Oh? Could you tell me more about lost souls?” Chara sheepishly asks.

“Well…” Napstablook says, “Lost souls are usually only heard about in fairy tales, but they are the result of a human persisting long enough to get a ghostly form.”.

“You know that you’re the only one who’s seen them besides me right?” Frisk adds.

“Oh.” Napstablook adds. “Maybe that’s because I’m a ghost?”.

“Could be.” Chara replies.

Frisk clears their throat, causing Napstablook and Chara to turn in their direction, then pipes up with “On a different note, Could we go on? We need to get to Toriel’s home.”.

Napstablook realizes the length of the conversation and says “Oh sure! Sorry for keeping you for a while…” and begins to fade away.

“See ya Blooky!” Chara interjects.

Blooky’s expression snaps to surprise as he stops fading for a moment (seeing as they never asked his name), then promptly blinks out of the corridor. Frisk turns to Chara with a judgy expression on their face, and once Chara hears Frisk’s “Ahem.”, Chara turns in Frisk’s direction and cracks a nervous smile as they form their words.

“Oh well? That’s only one person we’ve weirded out. Could be worse.” Chara explains.

“You’re not wrong.” Frisk says as they put a hand to their face.

“Anyway, let’s keep going.” Chara adds.

Frisk and Chara continue their trek to Toriel’s home, retreading through the froggit room, obtaining the ribbon, getting through the hidden path room, and resolving the switch puzzle. Chara and Frisk then are at the corridor right before toriel’s house when Frisk decides to walk away and get the toy knife. Chara reluctantly follows Frisk as they get the toy knife, due to their compunctions about knives in general. As they walk back to the corridor, they both fail to notice the creeping vines following them. Frisk and Chara have just about got in front of Toriel’s tree when Frisk suddenly falls to the floor. Upon hearing the resulting crash, Chara turns back towards Frisk and quickly notices who’s there. Flowey laughs.

“You idiot! Didja think you got rid of me?! Think again!”, Flowey says, “Now I can more easily get rid of you!”.

Flowey’s vines begin to ensnare Frisk, starting with their ankles, and moving up. Realizing what’s coming, Frisk pulls out the toy knife and tries to cut themself free, but Flowey quickly stops that by essentially using vine whip on Frisk’s left arm, causing Frisk to writhe enough to drop the knife. Chara stiffens with fear, but then notices Toriel as they look through her house’s window. Flowey laughs again.

“Now that you’ve gone and done your little stunt, the option to reset is gone!”, Flowey continues after his laugh, “G-O-N-E! Meaning that if I take your soul, you’re stuck with me, even after I initiate my plan!”. Flowey lifts Frisk, now fully entangled with vines, into the air in front of him as he cackles again and says “And with the grip I have on you, you’re dead meat bud-”

A fireball hits Flowey directly in the eyes. Frisk promptly thumps onto the floor thanks to the flames from Toriel’s fireball burning away Flowey’s vines. Chara would have remarked “It seems to be Toriel’s time to shine” if they hadn’t glued their feet to the floor out of fear. After the first shot, Toriel dashes forward to get a better angle on her next volley, and unknowingly runs straight through Chara’s ghostly form, which makes Chara snap to attention and turn in the direction that Toriel ran in. Toriel quickly readies her second volley, and fires it at the retreating flower. Flowey, for his part, vanishes into the ground as Chara zips over to Frisk and checks their stats. After a moment of silence induced by Toriel making sure that the strange flower was gone, Toriel turns to Frisk, then stops as she notices someone else next to the incapacitated human. Toriel warily steps toward both of them as Chara… Is having some difficulties. For one, Chara’s CHECK ability seems to be mucked up somehow, seeing as they are only seeing a health bar with no raw numbers. On top of that, despite Frisk taking no hits from either party, Frisk is not in perfect health. Chara has a hunch for why, but then snaps back to reality by a familiar sensation.

“My child?” Toriel says with a hand on Chara’s shoulder.

Chara is startled by the sudden words in their direction and jumps back, only to realize that their adoptive mother’s gaze is squarely fixed on their face. Chara is taken aback, seeing as their memories of Toriel’s raw compassion come flooding back into view. Chara then has the thought, This is the first time she’s seen me in 15 years. What am I thinking, I know what she wants. Chara gets back on their feet, and jumps forward with arms outstretched, resulting in a long-overdue familial embrace.

“Mom, I’m sorry I couldn’t talk to you earlier.” Chara says with tears running down their face, “I’m so sorry…”

“There is no reason to be sorry Chara. I may have a lot of questions now, but you can answer them later. Let’s get Frisk to safety.”

“Agreed.”

Chara and Toriel softly put an end to their embrace, resulting in Chara’s attempt to lift Frisk, which then results in Chara levitating off the floor while holding onto Frisk’s hand. Toriel is somewhat unnerved with the way Chara is holding Frisk off the ground.

“I can carry Frisk if needed, Chara. You seem like you are struggling to hold them.” Toriel says in her slightly concerned tone.

“Oh yeah I am…” Chara says with a strained voice, “Please carry them for me.”

Chara safely hands Frisk to Toriel, and Toriel puts Frisk over her shoulder.

“Let’s get going.” Toriel says with her gaze fixed on Chara.

Chara and Toriel go through the front door, in Chara’s case quite literally, and start to get settled in. Toriel moves Frisk into the vacant bedroom as Chara floats down onto a chair at the dining room table. Toriel tucks Frisk into their bed, then comes back out into the dining room, words already prepared.

“Chara, I have several questions I’d like to ask. Would you like to answer them for me?” Toriel asks.

“Sure, we’ve got some time to kill. And a lot of explaining to do.” Chara answers.

“My child, this may be a bit of a heavy talk, so if you get emotional, I won’t blame you.”

“Got it.” Chara replies, “Hit me with your questions.”

“So, Chara, where have you been these past years? Do you know how you came back like this?”

“Well… I’ve been sort of guiding the humans that keep falling down here. Frisk was obviously different, but none of the previous humans could see me like you are right now.”

“Oh goodness…” Toriel utters, “So you were here all along?”

“I guess so.”

“I guess you were here in spirit…” Toriel says, followed by some laughter.

Chara chuckles for a moment before asking “So that’s all you wanted to know? Is there anything else you’ve wondered about?”

“Well…” Toriel unsteadily says, “I have one thing I’d like to know.”. Toriel’s breathing gets funny for a moment. “Do you know what happened to Asriel?”

Chara pauses. They know exactly what has come of him. Chara is tempted to spill the truth, but hesitates. Chara doesn’t want to give away their failed plan. “Erm…” Chara’s hands tremble.

“My child, are you fine?”

“I-I-I’m fine mom. All I know is… I haven’t seen him.”

“Oh Chara… That’s fine. I’ve missed him too.” Toriel verbally stumbles before continuing with “You both were… Best friends. I’ve known what it’s like to lose those you love, but you’ve got to know they would only want the best for you.”

Chara looks away from Toriel for a moment, attempting to hide their face. Chara’s seen what Asriel has become. They don’t want to admit that they’d like to see him restored thanks to what he’s done. And Chara, for all their ability to forgive, can’t shake the doubt from their mind. Asriel has become a soulless husk of what he used to be. And Chara can’t unsee what’s happened.

“Chara!” Toriel says, making Chara snap back to reality. “My child… Let’s get you some rest. You’ve had a long day. Would you be able to stay in bed?”

“I think I can.”

“Okay. I think you know where the bed is from here. I need some rest as well.” Toriel begins to walk toward her room, then says “Good night Chara! See you in the morning!”

Chara levitates off the chair they were in, and floats down the hall and through their bedroom’s door. Chara looks over at Frisk, who is soundly asleep, then smiles as they are reminded of Toriel’s rescue. Chara starts to think about what could have happened if Flowey succeeded, but they quickly put the thought from their mind as they descend onto their bed, and are whisked away to the domain of sleep.

[ashleyspinelliburnbook]

S1E7: I Will Kick No More Forever/The Kid Came Back

It was bound to happen eventually, but these two were...not as good as the others? I don’t know, y’all. I didn’t feel fulfilled or inspired watching this pair of episodes. But I tried...for one of them, anyway.

I Will Kick No More Forever

Well, okay, there was one inspiring thing. Gretchen and Gus doing commentary for the kickball games made me think they should probably do a podcast together. So here’s a sports podcast that happens to be about the plot of this episode!

(I’m just going to write this all at once and see what happens. I have only ever written TV scripts, so I’m just winging it. Forgive me.)

GRETCHEN: I’m Gretchen Grundler.

GUS: And I’m Gus Griswald.

GRETCHEN: And this is “I am in Sports.”

[theme music]

[theme music fades]

[nat sound: kickball noises]

GRETCHEN: Kickball. Or as it’s known in most of Canada, “soccer baseball.” A sport of humble origins, and today, one of the most popular recess games in the United States.

GUS: You might not know all the names of some of the great kickballers in the storied history of the sport, but today, we’d like to introduce you to one in particular who took the playground by storm.

[nat sound fades]

ANNOUNCER (SOT): “Here comes Vince ‘The Foot’ LaSalle!”

ANNOUNCER 2 (SOT): “Kicks lefty, throws righty...”

ANNOUNCER 3 (SOT): “And that ball’s not coming back! A home run!”

ANNOUNCER 4 (SOT): “The undisputed, single greatest kicker that Third Street School has ever seen.”

GRETCHEN: Vince LaSalle. A fourth-grader in name only, he made everyone from kindergarteners to sixth-graders quiver in their kickball shoes whenever he stepped up to the plate.

GUS: His trajectory was storied. He was the only known kindergartener in Third Street School history to be invited to play with the first-grade kickball team, and by second grade, he was challenging sixth-graders to play.

GRETCHEN: This confidence was impressive. Inspiring, even. But it wasn’t meant to last.

VINCE (SOT): “Okay, everyone! Outfield in!”

GRETCHEN: It was a regular Tuesday, bottom of the ninth inning. Recess would be over in about two minutes. Ashley Q. was at the plate, fresh off a phone call, and Vince made the call to bring the outfield in.

GUS: It would be the last time anyone on the playground would trust him for a long time.

ANNOUNCER 5 (SOT): “That ball is up! And up! And up! Good golly, that ball is gone! It’s out of this world! Ashley Q., ladies and gentlemen!”

- SOT -

VINCE (on phone): “It was...horrible.”

GUS: “Horrible?”

VINCE: “When you make a call like that, bringing the outfield in, bringing everyone in, you don’t...that’s not what’s supposed to happen.”

GUS: “What is supposed to happen?”

VINCE: “Well, the opposite of that.”

- END SOT -

GRETCHEN: The next day, Third Street School received a long distance call — very long-distance. This call was from a busy street in Beijing, China.

PRINCIPAL PRICKLY (SOT, on phone): “They said they found our ball. I was like, what? What ball? And the man on the phone explained, you know, your ball. It says your school’s name right here.”

GRETCHEN: Ashley Q. had recorded the longest kick the school had ever seen. And Vince? Well, he didn’t take it so well.

- SOT -

VINCE (on phone): “I just started whiffing.”

GUS: “Whiffing?”

VINCE: “Everything. Just, missing everything. The next game, you know, the ball would be rolled to me just like usual. Kicked it right back into the pitcher’s hands. Kicked it foul. Missed it entirely.”

GUS: “What about after that game?”

VINCE: [sighs] “You know what’s worse than being picked last?”

GUS: “Not really. I’m picked last a lot.”

VINCE: “Have you ever not been picked at all?”

GUS: “Wow, no. How did that make you feel?”

VINCE: [laughs] “Well, after that, I left the sport.”

- END SOT -

[brooding music]

VINCE (SOT): “I am announcing my retirement from kickball. I will kick no more, forever.”

[brooding music fades]

GRETCHEN: Vince was distraught. Even though he was sure in his decision to leave the sport he loved, he didn’t take the transition well.

GUS: We visited him after school one day — a day he’d missed, we weren’t sure why — and found him in front of the TV, drinking root beer and eating doughnuts. It wasn’t pretty.

GRETCHEN: He kept repeating something, we didn’t know what at first. We tried to ask him to speak more slowly, articulate, enunciate. And then Gus finally figured it out.

GUS: “I was outkicked by an Ashley.” Over and over again. Just...gut punch.

[SFX - EXPLOSION]

- SOT -

GRETCHEN: “So we are...in my bedroom right now. Me, Gus, TJ, everyone. And I just showed them [crash in background] — Guys, what was that?”

TJ: “Sorry. Lost control of the Flubber again.”

GRETCHEN: “Glorp. It’s called glorp.”

TJ: “Yeah, whatever it is, it’s awesome. This should do the trick.”

- END SOT -

GUS: It was supposed to be a science fair project, right?

GRETCHEN: Yes, it was one of my attempts to invent a substance to replace liquid soap. But what I got instead was a bouncy...well...glorp.

GUS: And remind me what the plan was?

GRETCHEN: The plan was to create a diversion and switch out the kickball with the glorp ball. It’s much easier to kick, and it goes a lot farther. We just wanted to give Vince his confidence back, even if we had to bend the truth a little to do it.

GUS: My job was to switch the ball after Mikey and TJ created the diversion, from the kickball to the glorp ball.

[spy music]

- SOT -

MIKEY: “My foot! My foot!”

TJ: “Mikey! Are you okay? Can you play?”

MIKEY: “No! But if I don’t play, you’ll have to forfeit!”

TJ: “I’m sure there’s someone else we can use.”

- END SOT -

[spy music fade]

GRETCHEN: [laughing] Okay, it was a bad plan. It was not the best plan. But it worked.

ANNOUNCER 6 (SOT): “What’s this? Vince LaSalle, disgraced kickballer, appears to be coming out of retirement to replace the injured Mikey!”

TJ (SOT, on phone): “I was just trying to tell him, like, ‘If you don’t kick, we’ll lose the game,’ and he goes, ‘Yeah, well, get used to it.’ And I go, ‘Well, the only thing that makes you a loser is not trying.’ And it did the trick.”

ANNOUNCER 6 (SOT, CONT.): “He’s kicking righty today, maybe a revamped routine to make this try at his career go a little better, and...Oh my! Oh my word! That ball is gone! It’s in the stratosphere! It’s past the stratosphere! Where is that ball! No one knows, but Vince LaSalle has done it! He’s won the game!”

GRETCHEN: Here’s the thing. We all felt incredibly guilty after the fact. Because it was just the glorp ball. It wasn’t Vince. And still, we couldn’t tell him. But then it turned out we didn’t have to tell him.

GUS: I remember this moment so well. I was running back from the bathroom, wondering why the game was over.

GRETCHEN: And we were wondering why you were out of breath. You weren’t the one who had just kicked the ball into parts unknown. But then we learned the reason was...

GUS: I didn’t make the switch. I went to the bathroom, left the glorp ball outside, and when I came back, it was gone.

GRETCHEN: Vince had done it all on his own. His confidence was real.

[SOT - “Vince! Vince! Vince!”]

GRETCHEN: The world’s greatest kickballer was back in business.

[fade SOT]

[theme music]

- SOT -

[phone rings]

PRINCIPAL PRICKLY: “Hello?”

HAROLD STEVENS: “Hey, Principal Prickly, this is Harold Stevens at NASA. Look, I just wanted to reach out and say we won’t be charging you for the damage because this seems like a once-in-a-lifetime thing.”

PRICKLY: “Excuse me? Damage? What did those kids get up to this time?”

STEVENS: “Oh, well, the kickball dent on the space shuttle. It won’t be a problem.”

PRICKLY: “What?”

[click]

- END SOT -

[theme music fades]

Takeaway: I need a Gus and Gretchen podcast YESTERDAY.

The Kid Came Back

Look, everyone. The previous recap was so long, and I don’t want to overshadow it by going too deep into this one. This episode was just...a baby thriller, you know what I mean? All the elements of a creepy story tailor-made for kids, but absolutely no payoff. It was an insult, frankly.

In short, a kid no one has seen before starts following the gang around, and bad things start happening to them. They decide it’s because of the kid, so they tell him to buzz off, and he starts crying. The gang’s takeaway is that, oops, our bad luck wasn’t caused by this kid! And so they go apologize, and then they learn he has other friends anyway. The lesson is not to tell kids to buzz off...or so we thought, until another mysterious girl shows up at the very end and the gang runs away from her immediately so as to not engage. We never learn what’s causing their bad luck.

Just...skip this one. I hope the next one is better and that we’re not rolling down an infinitely long hill. Who haven’t we checked in with in a while? Have we had a TJ-centered episode yet? I’d be fine with that.

Takeaway: I need to tighten up my scriptwriting so I don’t run out of steam before even getting the chance to make fun of a bad episode, lol.

[whumphoarder]

Give the Kid an Oscar

Summary: Poor kid—he looks utterly miserable. And if anyone should know how much migraines suck, it’s Tony.

Word count: 2,103

Genre: Sickfic, fluffy illness, whump

Link to read on Ao3

Peter is looking... off. Usually he bounces around the lab—bright-eyed and eager to assist with whatever projects Tony will let him, hanging on the man’s every word. But today he just sits on his stool and stares straight ahead with glazed-over eyes while Tony explains how to connect one of the circuits in the Spider-Man suit.

“Hey.” Tony snaps his fingers twice in front of the kid’s face. “You still with me?”

Peter winces at the sound. ”Yeah. Sorry.”

“You alright, kid?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Stark,” Peter mutters as he rubs at his eyes with one hand. “What were you saying?”

Tony repeats his instructions and Peter correctly connects the wires, so Tony moves back to his own project. Aside from repairing a malfunctioning speaker for the training facility and fixing a couple bugs in the new Starkphone set to roll out next month, he’s also working on a complete overhaul for Rhodey’s leg braces. Tony’s goal is to finish building the new model before Christmas so he can surprise his friend with them, but he’s finding the design process especially tedious today. He presses his thumb to a spot just above his eye in an effort to stop the throbbing.

Ten minutes of digital drawings—and the subsequent deleting of those drawings—later, he’s no closer to a design than when he started. In frustration, he looks over to see Peter with his eyes shut and elbows propped up on the table, head resting in his hands.

Tony stands up and crosses over to him. “Hey.” He taps the kid’s shoulder. “You nodding off on me?”

Peter looks up slowly, blinking at him. His eyes are dull and unfocused and he lowers one arm down to snake it around his stomach. “Sorry,” he mutters through a wince.

Tony frowns. “Are you sick or something?”

He shakes his head slightly. “Just tired.”

“You didn’t eat much for lunch either,” Tony points out as he swallows down the acidic taste that’s creeping up his own esophagus.

Peter grimaces at the mention of food. “Wasn’t hungry,” he mumbles back.

Tony’s frown deepens. “Your stomach bothering you?”

Peter just shrugs. He swallows hard before asking in a very small voice, “Do you have any Tylenol?”

Considering the kid hardly ever admits to not feeling good, Tony is instantly on the alert. “Why? You got a fever?”

“I dunno.” Peter shrugs again, so Tony presses a hand to Peter’s forehead. It doesn’t feel hot, but a shiver runs through the kid anyway and rather than squirm away, Peter leans into the touch.

“Well, you’re not warm,” Tony says slowly. “Does your head hurt?”

Peter hesitates a second and then gives a slight nod. “‘S’bright in here, isn’t it?” he murmurs.

Tony’s starting to think he might know what’s going on. “FRIDAY, take the lights down by fifty percent,” he says in a low voice.

The lights instantly dim and Tony can’t help but breathe out in relief as the room suddenly loses much of its artificial harshness. He gives Peter’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “I’ll go find you some painkillers.”

Given how much time he spends in the lab, Tony keeps a good supply of various over the counter drugs available here. He skips the Tylenol altogether and goes straight for the Excedrin, dosing out two tablets for the kid and then discretely popping three himself in the hopes it will end the pounding in his own skull. After grabbing two bottles of water from the small fridge, he heads back over to Peter.

The teenager looks decidedly worse now and is hunched forward in his seat, both arms wrapped around his middle and swallowing convulsively. Tony’s stomach gives a lurch and he instantly grabs a trash can to set it down in front of Peter.

Peter grunts in acknowledgement.

Tony uncaps one of the water bottles and passes it to him. “You ready for meds?” he asks as Peter takes a cautious sip. “Or do you wanna wait a bit?”

Peter lowers the bottle and swallows again, eyeing the trash can nervously. “Um… I’ll wait. Sorry.”

“That’s fine,” Tony agrees, slipping the pills into his pocket. He uncaps the other bottle and takes a drink—he hadn’t realized just how thirsty he was until now. “C’mon, let’s get you laying down.”

Peter must really be feeling miserable because he doesn’t protest at all to the suggestion of leaving the lab. He just picks up the trash can from the floor and hugs it to his chest as he shuffles along after his mentor, eyelids half-closed.

Tony mutters for FRIDAY to dim the lights as they go, so it’s blissfully dark and quiet outside the lab. When they reach the end of the hall, Tony turns left to head off to the guest room.

Peter stops walking. “Oh,” he mumbles. “I thought…” he trails off. “Never mind.”

“Thought what?” Tony prompts.

Peter looks down. “I just thought we were going to the couch.”

Tony quirks an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t your bed be more comfortable?”

Peter hesitates just a second too long to be believable. “Yeah I guess…” he mumbles. He opens his mouth and takes a breath like he’s going to say something else but then shuts it. “Yeah, okay,” he agrees again instead.

Tony huffs out a sigh; if past experience with Peter is anything to go off of, they could end up doing this back and forth thing for another ten minutes before the kid finally admits what he wants. Tony doesn’t feel like playing that game today. “Couch it is,” he decides, steering Peter to the right.

It was evidently the right choice because Peter closes his eyes for a second and whispers, “Thanks.”

Once in the common area, Tony nudges Peter onto the sofa, positioning the trash can on the floor near him. The kid immediately curls up against the armrest, face scrunched up in pain.

“How’s your stomach?” Tony asks quietly as he tugs one of the many throw blankets down to cover Peter. “Think you can keep the pills down now?”

Peter grimaces as he pulls the blanket up to his chin. “I dunno…”

“Alright, we can try later.” Tony moves back away from the couch. “I’ll tell FRIDAY to keep the rest of the team from disturbing you. Just let her know if you need anything.”

Peter’s face seems to fall. “Oh. You’re not—” he starts, then cuts himself off. “Okay.”

Tony’s getting a little exasperated now. “What, kid?”

“I just…” Peter hesitates.

Tony waves a hand in a “go on” gesture.

Peter lowers his gaze as he picks at a piece of fuzz on the blanket. “I just…” He takes a deep breath and then bites his lower lip. When his voice comes out again, it’s so quiet that Tony barely registers it. “Can you stay?” he whispers.

Tony thinks for a moment of all the work he had planned to get done that afternoon between the designs and the piles of SI paperwork he’s been putting off and his knee-jerk reaction is to decline. But the kid looks so pathetic right now, wrapped up in that blanket and trembling just the tiniest bit, that it makes him pause.

“Please, Mr. Stark?” Peter asks, his voice almost a whimper. “I… I don’t feel good.”

It’s so pitiful and uncharacteristic of Peter Once-Got-Stabbed-And-Hid-It-Three-Days Parker that Tony is caught off guard. “FRIDAY, what’s his temp again?” he asks in sudden concern.

“Peter’s current temperature is resting at 98.9 degrees, which is well within the normal range,” FRIDAY supplies.

Okay so that’s not it, but he probably should still be calling a doctor—the kid has a pain tolerance almost comparable to Tony’s own, so it’s really saying something if a mere headache has him reduced to this groveling ball of misery. But then again, if anyone should know how much migraines can suck, it’s Tony.

Finally, in a whisper, Peter admits it:

“I don’t wanna be alone.”

It’s not an admission as much as an entreaty. The kid looks so utterly vulnerable right now. Tony can see the pain in Peter’s eyes and the quiver of his lip and the way he’s clearly exhausted and Tony suddenly thinks ‘You know what? Fuck it’ to his piles of paperwork and backlog of projects. If Tony sitting on this couch is what it will take to get his sick kid some relief, then by golly, that is what he is going to do. Damn the Starkphone—the old model still blows the competitor out of the water—and Rhodey’s braces can be a Valentine’s Day gift for all he cares.

He scoots Peter’s feet over and sinks down into the sofa. The cushions envelop him instantly—God, when was the last time he had just sat? On an actual couch rather than a office chair or lab stool. It’s heavenly.

“FRIDAY,” he says quietly. “Put on that one Disney movie he keeps asking me to watch. Reduced volume and brightness.”

As the animated film’s opening credits start to play on the screen, Peter tugs another blanket off the sofa and tosses it at his mentor with a small grunt.

Tony huffs back at him, but pulls the fuzzy blanket up around himself all the same. He’s pleasantly surprised at how nice it feels.

After watching Peter for a few minutes to make sure he’s settled, Tony shifts around a bit to lay against the cushions. He lets his eyes slip closed, which does wonders for the throbbing in his skull and the aching in his neck. Surrounded by the sound of the TV humming low in the background and the warmth of the blanket all around him, he finally drifts off.

X

Peter waits a good ten minutes, listening to Tony’s quiet snores, before slipping the blanket off and creeping out of the room to a nearby office where Pepper is typing up slides for an upcoming shareholders meeting.

When she glances up at him, he grins back. “You were right—it worked,” he reports.

Pepper gives a relieved sigh. “Thank you,” she says sincerely. “I can’t even tell you how many times I tried to get him to take a break. Pretty sure he’s had that migraine for the past 48 hours.”

“Yeah, it seemed like it was getting worse,” Peter agrees. After a beat, he huffs out a laugh. “I’m glad he gave in when he did—at one point I thought I was gonna have to start crying.”

Pepper raises her eyebrows at him. “Can you cry on command?”

“Um, of course,” Peter scoffs, throwing her a look of mock indignation. “You don’t make the role of Townsperson #7 in the middle school spring musical without some acting chops.”

“Alright, DiCaprio,” she says with a laugh. “Now get back in there and lay down before he wakes up and figures out what we’ve done. I’m hoping he can get a couple hours in at least.”

Peter laughs. “Alright.” He starts to turn around, but a thought occurs to him and he stops. “You should come too,” he invites. “We have plenty of blankets and couch space and we’re watching Big Hero 6.”

Still smiling, Pepper shakes her head sadly. “Thanks for the offer, Peter, but I really do need to get this finished.”

Peter shrugs. “Alright, just an idea,” he says before turning and heading out of the office.

But right before Peter gets to the door, he turns back around to look at Pepper. His eyes are redder now and he’s blinking back tears. “Ms. P-Potts?” he whimpers, lip trembling and swaying on his feet slightly. “Can you-” He cuts himself off with a hard swallow and wraps one arm around his stomach. “Sorry, I know you’re busy, I just…” Sniffing, Peter wipes at his nose with the back of his other hand. “I, uh… Can you walk me back?” A tear slips down his cheek and his breath hitches. “I-I’m not feeling very good, and—”

“Alright, alright.” Pepper rolls her eyes. She unplugs the laptop from its charger and gets to her feet. “You’ve made your point.”

Grinning smugly, Peter brushes the tear away with his sleeve. “I deserve an Oscar,” he says as they make their way back to the common area.

X

Thirty minutes later, Peter carefully removes the open computer from Pepper’s lap and sets it on the coffee table. He then gently lays a blanket over her sleeping form before curling back up on his end of the sofa to finish watching the movie across from the two snoozing adults.

Peter’s work here is done.

Fic Masterlist

For more heartfelt Tony & Peter moments, try Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This)