#the ideas stayed with me at least so even if my previous phrasing is lost I'm still probably gonna include it when i figure it out

[catboymitosis]

Part of why Daan is a character that hits on so many levels for me is 3 years ago I was writing edgy mediocre poetry about how rabbits must long to be cats and suddenly a character who has both bunny coding and cat coding exists how could I not get obsessed with him. I deeply regret having deleted them now because if I did have them I'd be injecting that shit directly into Pocketcat dialouge in fics...

[floralifetime]

Toruk Makto's Sister

Warning: Very bad writing, some grammatical error (English is not my first language, so please be kind), mentions of racism, mentions of death, mentions of abandonment.

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⚠️⚠️Phrase and image are not mine, all credits to the owners.⚠️⚠️

Orange means Na'vi language.

Chapter n.6 The Tsahik

A king bows only to his queen.

Another Na'vi, decidedly more adult and important than those who had surrounded my brother, was the owner of the voice. She looked annoyed, her tail wagged quickly as she walked, I don't know if she was mad at us or the others given the reaction they had towards Jakey and mine. I lost myself in watching her for a couple of minutes, just as she made her way towards my brother and me. As that woman joined us, I lost myself in observing her around me too, more carefully than I ever did before. Neytiri didn't look concerned, like what seemed to be usual about her. However I noticed in them a hint of…Pain, perhaps? Is that what keeps them from getting the best idea of our race? What have we done?

“And who is this supposed to be?” my brother asks, whispering while I sigh again and look at him with a look that couldn't be more tired than his big mouth. “You told me to be still, not quiet!” he tries to be ironic and I can't help but agree with him. “Yeah, then please don't say anything stupid, okay? For the rest, stay still, is that clear?” I hiss at him, even though I've just realized that I've dug my own grave anyway having given him permission to speak anyway. “That is my mother, the one who interprets Eywa's will.” Neytiri introduces her, always with her composure but also with a hint of curiosity, I don't understand towards what or who. I nod and, clearly, my brother immediately had to make me regret my kind concession. “Who is Eywa?” he whispers, because he somehow understood that he will get less “punishments” if he only talks to me. I sigh heavily and look at him sideways, slowly turning my head towards him, still holding a calm and deep breath, otherwise I would have gotten angry with him again and I didn't have much strength to do it, I also lacked the desire, I wanted to keep my rage to “protect” both in case the Na'vi decide to attack. “Ok, I got it. Shut up, Jakey.” I hissed and he immediately understood that it was better not to mess with me.

Meanwhile the lady had joined us, she went around my brother, examining the tail, the queue, and the body in general. She seemed very rude towards him and I wondered if she would use the same bullying with me once she was done with Jakey. I can bear it, I've been through worse, but I wonder if little ones can do it and what he will think of me, an Avatar who carries little ones of clear Na'vi origin on her shoulders. What if she doesn't believe my story? They don't trust us, we must have done something really bad to get that much suspicion from them, so even my brother's word might not help our situation much…The only one who could calm things down in such circumstances would be Neytiri who didn't show the slightest sign of disturbance when I mentioned the children earlier, perhaps she had already seen me taking care of them then, or she had imagined that I would not hurt them. I don't know, but guessing is currently useless, I just have to take what comes and react accordingly, hoping that my words and my story are convincing enough for her. I also hope she doesn't ask me to deprive myself of the little ones, I already love them, I don't want to be separated from them, at least it's not the best thing for them but I know that I will suffer a lot in case.

“What's your names?” she asked suspiciously. “I'm Jake Sully.” my brother replied as he looked at her with a look too arrogant for my liking, a nudge from me got him to fix this, but it was disrespectful that he didn't bow his head when the Tsahik presented herself in front of him, which I had done. The woman nodded, she didn't seem to be offended or want to make a tragedy of the fact that Jakey didn't properly show the respect an important figure like hers deserves, I sighed relieved because we are in enough trouble even without her joining us too. The woman's cautious and suspicious eyes moved to me, she hadn't examined me yet, but I think she won't be long in doing so. “And what about you?” she asked me, with a slightly softer voice than the one used for my brother and a more good-natured look than the previous one. Perhaps she appreciates my showing respect in a way that she deems appropriate for her culture. Here we are in their home, showing respect and behaving as their culture wants is the minimum. I raised my arm slowly, bringing two fingers to my forehead and bending down, greeting the Tsahik as any other Na'vi would, no difference in manner or fluidity of movement. Sometimes I amaze myself how natural it is for me to behave like them. “Oel ngati kameie, Tsahik. My name is Y/N Sully. May I ask what your name is?” Tsahik smiled briefly, I don't know if she has ever smiled at a Dreamwalker, but from the astonished and incredulous reactions of the other Clan members, I can surmise that it never happened. “Mo'at, child. My name is Mo'at. Oel ngati kameie.” I bowed my head again. “That's a wonderful name, Tsahik. Your daughter has a beautiful name too.” I didn't fail to notice the smile briefly appearing on both of their faces, even though Neytiri isn't very close, I can still see her quite clearly. Mo'at pricked my brother with a sharp bone, then ran a finger over the wound and brought it to her lips. It's their way, they taste some of your blood so they can get a deeper opinion about you and whether they should trust you or not. From what I know it is something that only the Tsahik has the power to do, but I would not exclude that this method can also be taught to those who follow the training to become such, perhaps the best.

After checking my brother carefully, Mo'at approached me. She walked around me, carefully examining my hair, my tail, the queue at the end of my braid but she was much more delicate with me than my brother, probably in homage to the respect I showed her, also because she would have had no other reason to be so kind. “Can I see your wrist, kind and respectful girl?” she asked in a soft tone, more conciliatory and warm than the cold and slightly nervous one used towards my brother. The difference in treatment between my brother and me cannot be more accentuated than this. I just nod as I offer her my wrist, the wounded one. She doesn't sting me, she loosens the leaf slightly, takes a drop of blood with her finger and brings it to her lips. Not even a second later she opens her eyes wide in an expression mixed between admiration and amazement, quite the opposite as I look at her confused and worried, not so much for her opinion as for her health. “Are you okay, Tsahik?” I ask alarmed, the last thing I want is to cause suffering to any of them, despite being a member of the army, hurting is not something that drives me crazy, quite the contrary. Mo'at took a deep breath and then turned to her daughter. “Neytiri!” Her name was called with such urgency that I became more concerned for Tsahik's health. Her daughter was beside us in a hurry, looking at her mother knowingly, as if she expected to be called for the reason she thought, meanwhile I'm not understanding much. “Proceed too.” her mother invited her, Neytiri did the same thing Mo'at had done before her, her look when she tasted my blood showed more awareness than amazement.

“What do you feel?” her mother asked her, in a tone I couldn't describe and a look I couldn't decipher. “Brave heart, noble spirit, kind soul.” she make a list and I couldn't help but look down with a purple hue spreading across my cheeks, even reaching down to my ears and the base of my neck given how embarrassed I was. I don't know how long I remained in that position, but at a certain point I felt an elbow hit that forced me to raise my eyes, meeting the much more benevolent gaze of both Na'vi women. “She must be special…” Mo'at murmured. “I knew she would be up to it.” began, still calmly, Neytiri. “How did you know? You spoke of signals from the Great Mother, tell me one.” replies her mother, I don't dare interrupt and, thanks to the Great Mother, not even Jakey dares to say anything. “Utral Tirea interacted with her, the Atokirinas seemed attracted to this particular girl. Now do you all understand why I couldn't kill her and had to bring her here?” It seemed that every single Na'vi of the Clan had released as much air as their lungs could hold in a single instant. I looked around to check on the other Clan members, see if I could figure out what was going on. Disbelief was the feeling that was the most popular, but a touch of distrust and denial continued to be in the depths of their looks. Jakey always says that I'm good at reading other people's emotions, but I don't think it's true, even if I admit that I'm someone who observes a lot, there's no doubt about it. “Utral Tirea, that's not possible.” I turned to where the voice was coming from and noticed that it was Tsu'tey who had spoken, Neytiri stared at him as if she had interpreted his denial as a challenge. “And yet it happened. I saw it with my own eyes, even the Atokirinas are a sign of the Great Mother, clearer than these could not happen.” Neytiri replied firmly. “Atokirina? Utral Tirea react like this with a demon? One of those who have caused us so much suffering?! It is not possible! They are too pure for this scum!” Tsu'tey replied more and more furious, with the corner of my eye I noticed that my brother was quivering with anger towards this Na'vi, for the words he had addressed to me. “Why are you sacred and pure? But do me the favor! If you were, you wouldn't have talked to Y/N like that without even know her!” my brother retorted aloud, anticipating whatever Neytiri might want to say. Tsu'tey turned to him and hissed at him showing his fangs, Jakey reciprocated but, before the irreparable could happen, a voice was heard screaming. “SILENCE!”

It was Eytukan's voice, he had slipped between my brother and Tsu'tey, although it was clear that he didn't want to be in that place. “Your Tsahik hasn't finished examining the female demon yet! And if my daughter is telling the truth, the signs have been clear! Let your Tsahik finish the job she is doing and only then will we take a decision!” Mo'at wore a disappointed look as she stared at the man who, earlier, had led some kind of cavalry against me, Jakey, and the little ones. After a brief moment of silence where tension you could cut with a knife, what I had been waiting for happened. Both children, evidently exhausted by the amount of tension and psychological distress I was dealing with, burst into desperate tears. Hearing their cries all the Na'vi were alarmed, Mo'at moved my hair and immediately noticed the little ones crying. “I knew it would happen sooner or later. They have been too good at remaining silent and still until now.” I spoke through clenched teeth, turning to my brother who was already staring at me for directions, ears pulled back to try and escape the confusion caused by the children. “Come and give me a hand.” I wanted to smile but I was exhausted and couldn't. My brother approached me cautiously, while Mo'at and Neytiri watched him suspiciously, I don't know what they think he might do, but he would never harm children that small. “Check them and then pass them both to me, okay?” My brother nods and, after I hiss at him twice at his lack of delicacy, he carefully pulls out both male and female, and he passes them to me.

“Shhh…I know my loves, screams are bad.” I whispered while I cradled them both in my arms, the two little ones looked around frightened, they seemed to be looking for someone, they stopped looking around only when they saw me, guided by the purr I made to reassure them. "It's all right my little ones, you're safe." I said softly as I gently pressed them to me. The little girl, while she was looking at me, snuggled against my chest clutching my shirt and, listening to my purrs and feeling me kissing her forehead, she soon calmed down by herself, coming to emit only a few sporadic sounds, much calmer. Luckily for me the little girl seems to have a basic quiet disposition, so calming her crying doesn't seem to be difficult, which cannot be said of the little boy, who kept crying. I wanted to join in the cry too since the little one had wrapped her little tail around my injured wrist and held it tight. Having calmed the girl, I diverted my attention to the boy. “Awww, what about you baby? Why are you crying, are you scared?” A few strands of my hair fell forward and, swinging, enchanted the little one. “Do you like my hair, my little one?” The baby moved his little hands and arms, grabbing my locks and starting to play with it, my laughter helped calm the little one who also ran his little hands over my nose. “Everything is fine, my little ones. I'm here with you, it's all right.” I reassured them both, because even if I'm looking at the boy, I have to make the girl feel my attention too. The little one gave me a toothless, rubbery smile, laughing as I kissed his nose and wrapped his little tail around my wrist, squeezing it like he was worth his life. The girl draws my attention complaining about her, so I slowly turned towards her, also because the boy didn't want to leave my locks. “It's all right my baby.” I whispered to her tenderly. “Do you want a kiss too?” I asked her about her as I heard her moan, I smiled and lifted her slightly towards me, then kissed her face a couple of times, making her smile and giggle again.

Finally having calmed both babies I was able to lift my head to meet suspicious gaze but with a hint of tenderness of Mo'at, I looked at Neytiri and saw her staring at me with a much more tender and convinced look of my good intentions than the mother's . “I didn't kidnap them, if that's what you think.” I anticipated as I cuddled both babies. “Then where did you get them?” she asked me, looking at the little ones, probably she was trying to find any possible wounds or marks. “I found them in the forest, their crying led me to them. As you can see they are all painted.” I started by showing the boy who didn't moan if I moved him slightly for Tsahik to see, as opposed to the girl who moaned and cried if I tried to pull her slightly away from my chest. Mo'at looked at him carefully and her golden eyes widened at the sight of the paint that still smudges him, I hadn't had time to wash them and I didn't even think about it to be honest. “Even the girl has the same colors and shapes painted on her.” I explained as Mo'at moved closer to the baby to better observe him. “Can I hold him?” My eyes widened, I never expected her to ask permission, I thought she just took it. “Sure, here.” I smiled and handed her the little one who didn't seem very happy with the change, he moved confusedly and looked around disoriented, whimpering. Contrary to what I expected Mo'at smiled and waved me over. I did it and as soon as the little one saw me he smiled and calmed down and stretched out his little hand to touch me, I smiled, I stretched out my free hand and let him take my fingers, I sighed moved by his toothless smile.

While the little one was distracted by my fingers and playing with it, Mo'at examined him carefully for a couple of minutes. “Can you confirm that the marks on the boy are the same as those on the girl?” she asked me. “Sure, they're the same, I have a feeling they don't mean anything right, it's that true?” Mo'at looked at me for a couple of seconds, then exchanged glances with her daughter and spoke again. “Do you care and take care of two children who are not even of your species?” I looked at her strange. “Of course I do, why shouldn't I?” I asked her without quite understanding what she was getting at, I don't know if she's being serious or if she's bluffing to test my intentions but I don't really want to think about it. “What should I have done, in your opinion? Leave them both where I found them and walk away ignoring that they needed someone to take care of them?” I insist. “We both know that if I had turned my back on them they would never have survived, both from predators and from the temperature of the forest at night. They are too young to stand a whole night in the forest.” Tsahik moved her ear slightly, letting me know that she was listening to me much more attentively than I expected. “Why should these innocent children die, who have done nothing wrong? It doesn't matter what species they are or I am, anyone would have done it in my shoes, even you. And you know very well that it is.” I conclude, I don't reveal what I really feel, that is slightly offended that Mo'at even thought about the possibility of abandonment, I would never do it. Despite this, I can't help wondering the reason behind this insinuation of hers. “And if I told you that these children have a family here and that it is better that they grow up with them, what would you tell me?” I swallow hard, trying everything not to cry. The eventuality I feared had presented itself, the little ones have another family and I would have to give them back, I don't want to do it but the doubt eats me up. Would I really be able to raise them? What's best for them? Is what's best for them the same as what's best for me? If they really have family, why didn't I see anyone when I found them?

I feel a hand on my shoulder that makes me turn, making me see my brother who smiles at me. “If they really had a family they would have already recognized and claimed them, don't you think? I think she's lying to test you.” my brother whispers. I look at the little girl who is still curled up against my chest and I can't think of giving up on her, I look at the little boy who is still playing with my fingers and I can't think of giving up on him either, but what would be the right thing for them to do? “If their family is willing to take good care of them I can consider leaving the babies to them, but what about their lack of attention in the forest? If they were a family worthy of the name, they would have rescued the little ones.” I start. “They may not have heard them.” she replies. “Don't lie to me, we both know how loud babies are capable of crying, at least if they were here I don't see why they shouldn't have heard them.” I answer back. “If it was really the best for them, I might as well do it. But I have to be sure, aware that they will take care of the little ones in the best way. Let me express my doubts given how they behaved and how they left them in the forest.” I don't leave her time to speak. “Because there's no way I'm leaving the little ones in the hands of whoever left them there, since we both know that the little ones didn't come alone in the middle of the forest. Someone brought them there, and who could it be but a family member? They are so small, there are still purple parts near their fingers.” I say, pointing to the purple halos present near the little one's fingers. “That said, I have no intention of leaving them in danger. They drew an archery target on their chests, I don't think it's a mistake, it was done on purpose.” I sighed. “I'll keep them with me, at least I won't abandon them in the forest. Please let me take care of them, I love them already.” I conclude. Mo'at smiled and allowed me to pick up the boy again. Having done this, she moved away from me slightly and began to speak in a serious and peremptory tone, addressing the entire Clan, while Neytiri approached me, I don't know why.

“These children were abandoned by their parents, they would have died of cold and hunger if it hadn't been for the kindness and courage of this Dreamwalker! Observe and learn because here among us there is someone who dared to commit the worst sin against their children, of the gifts that the Great Mother has entrusted to these two parents. Learn from her, who didn't leave them in the forest to die of starvation, despite the fact that they are children that don't belong to her and are of totally different species from hers, for her this difference doesn't matter because she loves these children as if they belonged to her! She proved herself better than theirs parents and better than us who didn't realize the tragedy that was about to unfold under our noses!” she turned to me, who was kissing the boy's cheeks, holding the girl close to me, and beckoned me to approach her. Unsure, I looked around as Neytiri waved me over to her mother. Still uncertain, I approached Mo'at, not knowing what she had in mind and what to do. “Children deserve to grow up with those who love them and it is clear that you love them, the little ones will stay with you!” I smiled moved. “Irayo, I don't know what else to say except…Irayo.” I hugged the little ones to me, happy that they would remain under my care. “Don't thank me, I didn't do anything relevant. You did everything, you and the love you feel for your little ones.” I bowed my head respectfully and walked back to my brother who was smiling contentedly, I noticed Neytiri was smiling too. “Jakey, did you see? They will stay with me!” I cheer happily as he widens his smile further and kisses my forehead. “Yes, these little guys are lucky, nobody loves them more than you.” I nod and look around, noticing Neytiri staring at me as if she wants to get closer but she can't, I don't know why she hesitated so much, I don't understand why she's undecided, she has shown that she isn't afraid to say or do what comes to her mind.

“Neytiri!” I called her and her ears moved, she heard me and she was listening. “Come here, come and see them.” I invited her, she looked around for a second and then approached me cautiously, as if she didn't want to scare the children. I took a couple of steps towards her, so we met halfway. I moved my arm slightly where I was holding the boy, he moved his ears constantly to listen to all the noises around us, while the female didn't seem at all interested in anything that surrounded us, it seemed as if it was enough for her to be safe among the my arms, as if she wanted nothing else. “This here is the boy.” I said to her as I saw her bend down a bit to have a better look at him. The little one, for his part, smiled and cooed happily. “He's already a talkative one.” I smiled as Neytiri stroked his face, letting him grab her finger. “And also very strong. He could make an excellent warrior or an extraordinary hunter.” she said looking at me. “You have nothing against it?” she asked me. “No, he can become whatever he wants, I'm sure Eywa will have chosen the most suitable path for him.” I smiled kissing the baby's forehead. “I trust her.” I say and see her smile, she seems to be happy with what I said. “And this is the girl.” I told her, showing her the little girl who had moved her ear slightly, showing that she had heard us. “She seems to be more calm and reserved than her little brother.” I smiled as Neytiri gently ran a finger over the little girl's black tufts, they both smiled as the little girl turned her little head to look for me. “She look for her mom, the one who gives her unconditional love.” Neytiri smiled while I couldn't hold back a happy, relieved smile.

“Fixed this problem, tell us why you came here.” Mo'at's voice interrupts mine and my brother's celebreations and the happy moment shared with her daughter. We turn around and Jakey seems to have forgotten the warning I gave him earlier. “Oh, we are here to learn.” my brother replies. “We already tried to teach some human beings, it didn't go well. It's hard to fill a cup that's already full.” she affirmed with a hint of disappointment and resignation in her tone and look. “Trust me, my cup is totally empty.” my brother jokes and I just can't help but giggle. “It's true, yours is filled only with air.” I smiled as he looked at me in mock offense. “Why are you looking at me so badly, it's true!” I say laughing. “In addition to being full of air, it is also hard!” I finish as Jakey tugs at my hair, giggling too. “Lucky for us yours isn't like that!” he says. “You're joking I hope! If my cup was like yours, we'd all be dead by now!” we both laughed and not even Mo'at or Neytiri could keep from smiling or snorting lightly. “Maybe her cup isn't quite empty.” smiled my brother pointing to me. I looked at him as if he was crazy. “What? It is not true!” I immediately denied, I'm far from having the “cup full” as they say. “But yes, it's you who can speak their language, you proved it. It is you who know how to behave towards their most important figures, you have proved it. In any case, you know how to deal with them, their traditions, their rites, you know these things.” he began to say. “It's not true and anyway, even if it was, I'm far from knowing everything as she means and as you think.” I explain. “It wouldn't hurt to learn a little more and enrich my mind. Fill my cup further.” I conclude, looking at him with what should be a raised eyebrow, in the human body it would be. “Would you be willing?” Tsahik's voice interrupted both of us. “What?" I asked her, confused, not so much about what she said as about what she meant. “He is right.” she begins, pointing to my brother who was looking at me triumphantly, he loves to be right. “You have shown that you know much more than he does. Would you be willing to increase your knowledge? If any of us taught you, would you be willing to learn?” she asks me. “Sure, I would really like to be honest.” I smile as Mo'at nodded and turned to my brother.

“What are you?” she asked looking at Jakey. “We are all warriors, of Clan Jarhead.” I turned to him, obviously he had to say his nonsense, otherwise he's not happy. I was afraid this statement from him might cause him trouble, so I approached him. "Warrior? Ah! I can kill him easily!” Indeed, exactly the result I expected. I recognized the voice, it was Tsu'tey's, who hadn't spoken yet since Neytiri described what had prompted her to bring Jakey and me here. I took self-defense courses, both at due to the will of of my older brother and because I felt safer knowing some tricks to defend myself in unpleasant situations, which I happened to find myself in several times. I quickly place myself between Tsu'tey and my brother, knocking the Na'vi warrior to the ground by sweeping both of his legs off. I was quick enough to surprise him, as he fell on his back like a sack of potatoes, yellow eyes wide and an incredulous expression on his face, I had to use all my strength not to laugh, embarrassing him more. “I rarely pull such drastic maneuvers, so I don't think you'll see any more for a while, but I can't let you threaten Jakey. Have I been clear?” I spoke using a firm but at the same time sweet tone, like that of a mother who scolds her son for a not too serious problem. He remained silent, while I leaned towards the little girl to kiss her cheek, hearing her giggle. Everyone around me seemed to move in slow motion, with bated breath, I don't know who he is, if he had led the warriors when I arrived he must have some importance within the Clan, however I don't care. As with Eytukan, if you don't deserve my respect you won't get it. I'm kind not stupid.

“If you stay silence we don't get along my friend.” I smiled as he scrambled to his feet, not expecting to be knocked down by a Dreamwalker, that's for sure. “I'm not your friend!” he yelled in my face. “Hey, take it easy! You are nobody to threaten Jakey, I don't care who you are! Respect and you will have respect back!” Before Tsu'tey could answer, another voice caught our attention. “Stop!” it was Eytukan, and I haven't heard him speak for quite a while. “They are the first Dreamwalkers of their…Kind, that we know, we need more information.” I smiled and walked towards my brother who smiled. “Maybe I should have warned you before she did it, but there's no point in provoking her.” Tsu'tey answered him by hissing at him. “Fine, the decision is made.” this is the voice of Mo'at, taking a step towards her daughter. “My daughter, you will teach the boy. You will teach him how to walk and talk like us.” Neytiri was not happy with this part of the decision. “But why me? It's not right!” she moaned. “You brought them here, you will help educate them.” her mother replied, firm. “I would have preferred to take care of the girl.” she continued to moan. “Tsu'tey will take care of her.” her mother froze her, and Tsu'tey and I also froze in place. “Me?! And why should I teach something that can't be learned to someone who can't learn!?” he protested vehemently. “I said the decision is made!” Mo'at raised her voice slightly as I rocked the children so they wouldn't get scared. “You, my daughter, will teach Jakesully, while you, my brother, will teach Y/Nsully. Neytiri you will also teach to walk and talk like us, Tsu'tey, you can do without teaching our language, she seems to already be able to speak it. Learns well, Jakesully and maybe your insanity can be cured.” her eyes sought mine. “I can already tell that you will do well, Y/N.” she smiles kindly. “Thank you very much, Tsahik.” I nod. “As for you, Tsu'tey.” her gaze returns to the warrior, and she approaches and whispers something to him that I can not hear.

After helping me put the babies back in their carriers, Neytiri and Tsu'tey accompanied us and guided us to a healing tent. “Well, who comes in to help her? You or me?” she asks once we reach the tent entrance. “It's up to you, I can't bear to start being with her so soon.” spits Tsu'tey, with much poison ill-concealed in his words, a snake is less poisonous than him. “Okay, but you're not doing well.” Neytiri retorts, Tsu'tey rolls his eyes as Neytiri escorts me inside the tent. “Behave yourself, Jakey!” I tell him as I enter. Once inside, she and I remained alone in comfortable silence while she treated my wounds, at least comfortable silence until I asked her questions about the herbs she used and the method of use, already showing my boundless curiosity and desire to learn. I wonder why Mo'at assigned me to Tsu'tey and not Neytiri who seems more enthusiastic about me than my brother.

Once out we went back to Jakey and Tsu'tey, the former was happy to see us the second not much, on the contrary, he probably would have preferred to see only Neytiri. To be honest I'm sorry he feel that way about us but I can't tolerate my brother being so openly threatened I couldn't do anything for Tommy, for Jakey I must be able to do something or else what kind of sister am I? I hope that the conception of me will improve over time, after all I'm not here to be despised, but to learn a culture that I think is fascinating and capable of teaching a lot to those who are willing and courageous to question themselves and learn it. “Now we take you to another tent where you can change into more suitable clothes.” Neytiri communicated as Jakey placed the last kiss on my head. "Alright. Irayo.” I smiled, I noticed a strange look in Tsu'tey, as if he was about to make fun of me but was interrupted right on the best by something done too correctly to be resumed.

The walk was very silent on my part at least, not so much on Jakey's part since I had to call him constantly, he stopped often and willingly, or embarrassed both me and himself, I would have preferred to know him in silence. “Here we are, decide who enters first. If you need a hand with the little ones, I can come in with you.” once again it is Neytiri who gives us a minimum of indications. “Doesn't it bother you to help me?” I ask, she shrugs. “No, it must be complicated with two such young children.” I nod. “Yes, I would like.” I smile even if I hear Tsu'tey snort. “What is it Tsu'tey? Do you want to keep the little ones?” he widened his eyes and looked at the smiley faces on my shoulders, you could tell he didn't know where to start. “Obviously.” I conclude as both me and Neytiri, who was smiling, enter the tent. I took off the carrier and set it down on the floor, kneeling in front of my babies, smiling and playing with both of them as Neytiri gathered a couple of dresses to give me. “Here, these are for you.” she said handing me some simple but very nice clothes, with some light decorations superbly drawn on the fabric of both the thong and the top. “They don't belong to anyone?” I asked, just to be completely sure I wasn't stealing anything. “No.” she just answered. “The decors are very nice, I didn't think there would be.” I think out loud and her eyes widen. “Do you already know that the most decorated clothes are worn by the most important members?” she asks me, amazed. “Yes, I thought being an apprentice would not give me access to the beautiful clothes you wear.” I nod as I take the clothes from her hands and look at them more closely. “You are a peculiar apprentice, the Great Mother seems to have taken a liking to you, so I thought you might wear a couple of decorations.” she explains while I nod and look at them without quite understanding how to wear them. “Uhm…Would you give me a hand?” I ask her embarrassed, she smiles and approaches. She helps me take off my human clothes and put on the typical Na'vi clothes. “Irayo, I didn't think I could hope for such kindness.” I smile as I let the children look at their mother's new clothes. “Huh? Neytiri did a great job, what do you think?” I asked as I lifted them one by one, making them both laugh. “Come on, Tsu'tey and your brother are waiting for us. And Tsu'tey doesn't have much patience.” she smiles, I put the carrier on my shoulders and we go out. Again Jakey fills me with affection and compliments when he sees me with the new clothes, then it's his turn and his loincloth has no decoration like mine, Tsu'tey must have respected the custom to the letter, in fact he glared at Neytiri when he noticed that my clothes were decorated, albeit slightly. “Everyone must be having dinner by now, let's go.” Tsu'tey cuts short, and we set off.

Once we arrived we realized that Tsu'tey was right and everyone was eating in more or less large groups, all seated in a circular manner. Tsu'tey starts off without saying anything while Neytiri motions us to follow her and sit down with them. Jakey, as we walk, has to apologize several times because he steps on almost every tail he comes across. Finally we can sit down and thank goodness I am provided with two baby bottles made of leaves to be able to feed the little ones so I can sit quietly and feed them while my brother tries to talk to Neytiri without her being very happy with the interaction.

“Excuse me?” I hear myself called and I turn towards the direction from which the little voice is coming, finding myself in front of a little girl but still bigger than my two little ones. I smile at her softly “Hi baby, can I help you?” I ask inviting her to sit next to me. The girl accepts and sits down. “Yes, well…I wanted to know…” she looks doubtful and embarrassed, I smile at her hoping to encourage her. “Don't be afraid, honey.” I encourage her. “Here, I wanted to know if you and him.” points to my brother. “Are mates. And if they are your children.” My eyes widen, the children evidently not being allowed to attend the huge assembly that was called upon our arrival, and Jakey turns around with a shocked face. “Um…No, darling, we're not mates.” I smile and reach out to stroke her cheek, the little one leans into my touch. “He and I are brother and sister. He is a year older than me, while the little ones here I found alone in the forest and I took them with me because I couldn't leave them there.” she nods in concentration and my brother has to say something of his. “I love her, but not like this.” I snort smiling and my expression makes the little girl laugh. “Irayo!” she says out of nowhere and I look at her confused. “Why irayo, honey?” she looks at me with a toothy smile. “Because everyone say Dreamwalkers aren't nice, but you are!” she nods convinced and I smile at her innocence. “Sure honey, but I'll tell you a secret. There are Dreamwalkers who are kind and good. We are not all the same.” I say tenderly tapping a finger on her nose, she giggles cheerfully covering it. “Are you rare?” she asked me in the tone of someone who has discovered a beautiful treasure. I reflect, I don't know what to answer. If I told her a lie, I could expose her to dangers, if I told her the truth…Well, I don't want to disturb her innocence as a child, all little ones need to believe in the magic and goodness of the world, it's reassuring. It is for this reason that explaining evil and its existence to them is not easy at all. I'm in the military, safety first. “Yes, little one. Unfortunately we are quite rare.” I nod. “But you know what? This makes you even luckier, because you know not just one good Dreamwalker, but two! Me and my brother.” the little girl smiles and, before she can say anything else, she is called back by a little boy, I think he is her older brother. “Thank you for answering me. Have a nice dinner and have a good rest!” I greet her in their own way and she happily reciprocates and then runs to join her older brother. I smile gently as I watch her walk away, she's a lovely little girl.

“You were kind.” I hear someone talking next to me, I turn to notice that Tsu'tey was looking at me with a twinkle in his eyes that I can't decipher, as I kiss the forehead of the little boy in my arms. “It's not my habit to be aggressive.” I nod as he looks at me with a gleam of amusement behind that hard, angry gaze. “Except when you knocked me down.” he reminds me and I can't help but giggle. “Well, you threatened my brother.” I say like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and to me it is. He nods and the conversation ends there for him, I don't want to push him, he's already talked to me for a long time, before returning his attention to my little ones, I look at him briefly and he seems immersed in distant thoughts, in distant memories.

After dinner Neytiri and Tsu'tey took us to the area where we would sleep, the same one where they all sleep. After that brief interaction during dinner Tsu'tey stopped speaking and returned to being aggressive as he had done before. “Should we climb up there?” asks my scandalized brother. “Sure, and we should wake up early. Na'vi's life generally begins early, and more so if the Na'vi in question are warriors or hunters." my brother looks at me shocked. “Need a hand with the kids?” Neytiri asks me, I look briefly at Tsu'tey and see that he doesn't roll his eyes or sigh heavily. “Is everything all right, Tsu'tey?” I ask him worried. “No, I'm fine.” cut him short. “I don't believe you, but I don't insist.” I smile and then turn my gaze towards Neytiri who was waiting for her answer. “Sorry, no irayo. I can do it." I smile at her, she nods but, just to be safe, she waits for me to settle down. After I've taken the babies out of the carrier and tied it to the end of the bed, I lay down on my side, holding both little one close to me. “Good night brother.” I greet him as I hear him settling into his bed, not far from mine. "Good night little sister.” he reciprocates and I kiss the babies foreheads, humming a lullaby to them, before drifting off into dreamland, ready to return to my actual body.

Well, this is the end of the sixth chapter✨…I know, it's as long as few, but I couldn't narrow it down more than that if I wanted to insert all my ideas into it, sorry😅. In any case, thanks for reading in case you did and, if you want, we'll see you in the next chapter, number 7👋.

©️Floralifetime May 10-2023, please do not republish, repost, steal, modify, translate or claim my work as your own. All rights reserved.

Taglist: @avatarbyamara, @sweetirilly, @0eye0, @elegantkidfansoul.

[ddarker-dreams]

Live and Learn. Yan Albedo x Amnesiac Reader [COMM]

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, drugging and amnesia.  Word count: 3k.

i.

“Your name is [First].”

“My name is [First].”

“You’ve lived in Mondstadt your whole life.”

“I’ve lived in Mondstadt all my life.”

“You’re staying with me, the Knight’s of Favonius’ Chief Alchemist, until your lost memories return.”

“I’m staying with you, the Knight’s of Favonius’ Chief Alchemist, until my lost memories return.”

You’ve never understood the point in repeating this humdrum mantra every day. Albedo’s remained insistent on it despite your reservations — claiming it’s important to engrave this into your brain — yet you can’t help but find it redundant. The basic information isn’t what you’re concerned about, it’s filling in the rest of the gaps that matter. Still, it does you little good to express this frustration with him. There’s no changing Albedo’s mind once it’s been made up. If he says it’s going to help, you’ll take his word for it.

He is doing you a favor, you remind yourself. A rather generous one at that.

“How did things go today?” You inquire, setting your latest book aside to give Albedo your full attention. This is one of the few works of fiction in his possession. While it makes sense that someone like him would prefer in-depth encyclopedias and papers filled to the brim with scientific jargon, it makes for a dreadful read. Even more so when you need to entertain yourself for hours on end.

“I’ve made considerable headway in my Dragonspine expedition,” he stretches his arms above his head. “Though, there’s still much to be done. I never imagined it would be so difficult to get all my equipment up a mountain.”

Albedo’s lips twitch into a frown when you laugh at his complaint.

“Well, it is a mountain. An incredibly cold one at that. I hope you’re not working your poor assistants to death.” You faintly recall both their names — Timaeus and Sucrose, if you’re not mistaken — you wonder if you’d ever met them before all this.

He’s doesn’t linger on the subject of his assistants, instead returning the conversation back to you. “They’ll manage. How are you feeling? Have you noticed anything abnormal? Tell me everything, no matter how small you consider it to be.”

You wonder why Albedo’s so disinterested in speaking about anyone other than you. Could it be out of consideration for your feelings? Or did he never know about your relationships with others before he took you under his care? It’d be a shame if it was the latter, since Albedo currently acts as your sole connection to the past; gaining insight on your previous friends might even help kickstart your memory. At least, that’s what you thought until he waved the idea away. Something about “not wanting to overwhelm your currently fragile mental state” with unnecessary outside interaction.

Albedo’s waiting for your update, you realize. It might be best to worry about this later. You’ll assume he’s looking out for your best intentions now as he always has, even if he shows it in unique ways.

“Other than the usual headaches, everything’s been about the same. I just… kinda wish I had more to do, y’know?” You accentuate this by offering your brightest, most enticing smile. It doesn’t feel right to complain given the circumstances, so you hope by phrasing it in a lighthearted manner, he won’t take offense. The guilt you were intending to keep at bay creeps up when his shoulders droop, a mannerism that doesn’t get unnoticed. His face stays impassive, but you can already tell something is off, anxiety flowing through your veins at the thought of potentially upsetting him.

Raising your hands in defense, you rush to defend yourself. “I-I don’t want to sound whiney or anything! I appreciate all that you’ve done for me, especially since you’re so busy; having to take care of me on top of your normal workload is already an extra burden.”

“No, it’s fine,” he shakes his head at your nervous rambling and you hold your tongue to prevent further embarrassment. “You’re right. Before you started staying with me, I’d rarely come back home for anything but sleep. As a result, I’m afraid there isn’t much to do in terms of stimulating activities. I’ll see what I can do to remedy that.”

Relief floods your system at this, your once tense muscles relaxing. “Ah, thank you very much. I’m glad I didn’t come off as ungrateful. That’s the last thing I’d want.”

Albedo gives you a look you can’t quite interpret. Eyebrows furrowing and a hand to his chin, he thinks on your words, before deciding on a tentative response.

“You could never,” he murmurs, suddenly avoiding eye contact. “No, not you… your heart is kind. Too kind, truthfully.”

His comment feels somewhat out of place. You’ve grown accustomed to Albedo’s clinical, almost detached manner of speaking, but this is different. Almost… tender. So why is it that shivers are sent down your spine and the hairs on the back of your neck standing in anticipation? Shouldn’t your cheeks flush and heart fondly thrum at such a sweet declaration? Your biological responses aren’t lining up as they should. It’s only now that you realize just how fondly Albedo’s looking at you. Swallowing thickly, you avert your gaze, your mouth going dry.

Why does it seem so wrong when he looks at you like that? For your body to react subconsciously react so negatively to a non-threatening sight… You feel like you’re missing a piece of the bigger picture.

There’s no time to fixate on the uncanny interaction, as a high pitched noise steals your attention away. This is yet another routine you’ve fallen into with Albedo. When he comes home at the end of the day, the two of you share tea together. He used to brew it for you, but you’ve been beating him to it by boiling the water around the time he normally returns lately. It’s nice to have a sense of structure, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant.

Wordlessly, you both set into motion, like all the evenings before. You set out the china and stoke the fireplace while he does the rest. Once he’s satisfied with the coloration, he hands you your specially made drink and takes a seat on the sofa. No matter what it is that Albedo’s doing, he completes it in a thorough manner. It’s one of the many aspects about him that you’ve come to respect. A task as trivial as steeping tea is carried through with perfection. He’s always been insistent on getting the right combination.

It can be a bit intimidating with how flawless he appears to be. Now that he’s watching over your recovery, there’s even more for him to do on top of his demanding schedule. You can’t recall a time he’s ever complained about it, which begs the question. Why exactly is he going to such lengths for you? You’re able to assist with household chores and the like, but everything else is taken care of by him. Albedo’s never so much as asked for a thank you in return. Is it goodwill that’s inciting him to help you? Or a chance to study an amnesia victim up close? You often find yourself wondering where his motivation comes from.

Whatever the case, you’re glad you’re not dealing with this alone. That would’ve been a nightmare.

Not wanting to dwell in your disjointed thoughts, you occupy yourself by starting up a conversation.

“Say, Albedo. What was I like? Before all of this, I mean.” You take a sip of your tea, wincing at the slightly bitter taste. It’s certainly not your favorite flavor, but Albedo’s insistent that you drink all of it. Something about the nutritional value being beneficial to your recovery. When you heard that, you set aside your reservations and made sure to always drink every last sip. Anything that might help you get your memories back is worth the effort, no matter how farfetched.

“Very similar to how you are now,” he sets his cup down with a gentle clink and steeples his hands. “I would go as far as to say the only aspect of you that is different now is your obstructed memory and the confusion that comes with it. Your original mannerisms, personality, and quirks remain intact. ”

Does he consider that to be a good thing? Wanting to know more, you press on. “That must mean we were close if you know so much about me.”

You’ve always been curious about the state of your relationship with Albedo before your current condition. Were you acquaintances? Friends? Or maybe…

“In a way, yes.” He responds without further elaboration. How odd, you think. If there was ever a word you wouldn’t use to describe Albedo, it’s concise. You’re used to him expanding on his thoughts in great detail. Right now, however, he’s closed himself up like a clam. It’s unnerving enough that you shuffle in your seat, hoping to clear the tension in the air. You didn’t feel like you said anything insensitive, besides, Albedo’s not the type to easily take offense.

Unless it hurts him to remember what you were, compared to how you are now.

Luckily, you catch a break. Albedo must’ve caught onto your sulking and decided to explain himself more. For someone who claims not to be the best with social cues, he can read you without a problem.

“You’ve always been considerate of the people around you, and I was no different,” Albedo gazes distantly into the crackling fire. “When I’d be inundated with work, you made it a priority to check in on me, for example. No matter how busy you were yourself. It was… nice.”

Ah. Why does it feel like your chest is clenching?

There’s a part of you that lives in his mind that you might never come to know. Whatever memories he holds — you wish more than anything that you could have them back — but all you’re left with is a sense of profound loss. To know something is missing, with no clear fix is painful. The universe has seen fit to wrong you. Is this the reason he avoids speaking about the past? He truly does know you well. Likely better than you know yourself right now.

Rubbing frantically at the corners of your eyes, you laugh a humorless laugh.

“I’m glad to know I was able to be of use to you once.”

He closes his eyes and you swear you see him smile. 

“Who is to say you ever stopped?”

ii.

Nature is a pleasant escape from your mundane day to day activities.

Lush flora of varying colors bloom en masse by your feet, accompanied by overarching trees and fields of eternal grass. You’re grateful for the fresh air that fills your lungs, an extra spring in your step while you continue foraging for the day. It took a while to convince Albedo that you’d be fine journeying out some on your own. A long array of promises secured your ability to do so. It felt strange bargaining for such a simple freedom, yet he made his opposition sound reasonable. His concern was that you’d manage to get hurt while out on your own.

Your current state indeed leaves you more vulnerable, but you’re still an adult. After making this point — along with a variety of others — he caved. You swore not to stray off the main roads and that was that.

What else do I need to get, you think, raising your handwoven basket to inspect. Hmm, maybe some more apples to bake a pie with. That’d be a nice change of pace!

“Human.”

The new voice startles you from your contemplating, your basket full of fruits and herbs falling onto the ground as a result. You place a hand over your pounding heart and will yourself to stay calm. A young man emerged from the nearby thickets, sporting long silver hair and piercing crimson eyes. His entire appearance is rather roughed up like he’s been living outdoors, dirt patches on his face and clothes.

Wait. Did he just address you as human?

There are too many questions to know where to start, but he gives you no time to ask any of them. His nose twitches and he frantically sniffs in the surrounding air. You remain still as a statue while he steadily makes his way to where you stand. Maybe this is why Albedo’s insistent you rarely leave his residence, to avoid odd interactions such as this. For whatever reason, you don’t sense any malice from his actions and let him do as he pleases.

He sniffs right over your shoulder. “Weird smell.”

“I-I’m sorry?” You squeak, regaining your senses enough to put some distance between the two of you.

Your fallen basket is his next target. He rummages through it, picks out a particular herb, and grimaces. “Don’t eat. Bad.”

The next thing you know, the herb in his hand incinerates with a loud crack. His foreboding comment catches your attention more than anything else. What exactly did he mean by not good? You’re positive Albedo wouldn’t have you consuming poisonous plants. In fact, he’s the one who showed you where to pick this herb, stating its importance in your recovery. It’s the main ingredient for your nutrient-rich herbal tea.

“Bad? How is it bad?” You ask, unable to fathom a world where Albedo would actively let you consume something detrimental to your health.

The stranger taps his forehead and grimaces. “Hurts head. Don’t eat.”

“Makes you… forget.”

iii.

You wanted to trust him.

The guilt that would weigh down on your soul if you falsely implicated Albedo would be too much to bear. When your memories of the past years slipped through your fingers like sand, there was no telling if it would stop just there, or continue eating away at your mind. The thought of being reduced to nothing but a husk haunted you without offering respite. It had been Albedo that offered his quiet yet firm reassurance. It had been Albedo who suggested you stay with him so he could further monitor your condition.

You stare at the murky brown liquid as if it was the devil himself handing it to you.

“Is something wrong?” Albedo tilts his head, his eyes flickering from the cup to you.

“N-no, nothing’s wrong,” you curse yourself for being so readable. “I’m just not feeling up to drinking this tonight. I know it’s good for me and all, but it wouldn’t hurt to pass just this once, right?”

This is meant to be a test. Should he readily accept your excuse without giving it a second thought, you’ll consider the stranger’s warning void. A simple little misunderstanding that no one will need to know about. That way you’ll be able to carry on your recovery in peace and things will remain as they always were.

On the other hand, if he gets upset and demands you drink it, you’ll have your answer. As undesirable as it would be.

A high risk, high reward gamble.

You maintain eye contact with him to make your position clear. This is a decision that you have to stick by, no matter the persuasive tactics he might try and use. There’s too much at stake here to easily give in. Please, please just let this be nothing but a mistake. Let it be another uneventful evening full of conversations on life, dreams, and expressing your thoughts to one another. He wouldn’t betray your trust, right? Not after the lengths he’s gone through to help you?

His lips part to speak and you hold your breath in anticipation.

“How did you find out this time?” Albedo asks the question posed in such a casual manner that it takes a few seconds to sink in.

How can he remain calm? Does he perceive you as so little a threat?

The way he’s acting now is more akin to accepting a minor setback than facing an accusation as grave as actively drugging you. You clearly stated your point, there’s no way he somehow misconstrued your words. The way he phrased it is subjected to your scrutiny, goosebumps dotting up and down your arms at the implication.

“This… time?” Your blood runs cold as you repeat the words back to him. Suddenly, you’re hyperaware of how cornered you are, Albedo’s body positioned right in front of you. He’d likely be able to stop you should you try and leap for a last-ditch escape. If you somehow managed to run, where would you even go? Who would believe your story in your current state? Everything feels like it’s happening at once.

“The first time, I had been careless,” he recalls the memory with a rational tone, almost as if to critique his previous methodology. “I had left some of my sketches of you in various positions in an accessible spot. It had earned a rather… displeased reaction from you.”

Would it matter if you screamed? Would anyone other than him be around to hear your desperate pleas?

He sets the incriminating cup aside. “Back to my original question. If you tell me how you found out the truth, the severity of your punishment will be lessened. I need to know in order to make future adjustments, so please, if you would. Keep in mind that I will know if you are being dishonest.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” The question is meant more to stall for time than anything else. Albedo’s giving you too much information to work with. All you need is a single opening to take advantage of to lunge for the door. Just keep him talking, keep him distracted. That’s the best chance you have here. Archons, to think all this time, you were coexisting with such a malicious person, who held your life in his hands.

You ready yourself to make for the door.

“Because it doesn’t matter what you know now.”

He reaches into his long, white coat, his Vision glowing in preparation for what was to come.

“You’ll forget everything soon enough.”

[ms-starflower]

Young Survivors — Part 6 — Maribat

<Previous | First | Next > AO3

Guys, guys, guys. This is it. This is what I've been waiting for since almost the very beginning of this story. Jason and Marinette have a conversation, with each other!

Ngl, I was lost on what to do with myself after I finished this chapter… But! I’m back on track, no worries!

Big shout out to @emistar0 for giving me this fantastic idea for the reunion! You’re fantastic, it has lived rent free in my head since our conversation, and I really, really hope I did it justice!

And the greatest of thank you to @buterflies-and-ladybugs (AO3) for beta-reading this chapter and saving it from unwanted French words and weird phrasing!! I’m very, very grateful!

Credit to @1rosebyanyothername (AO3) for Jason’s Raawr joke, I’m so glad I could insert it in the story!

Also, man, there is more feels in this than I had originally anticipated. And it continues in the next chapter soooo…..

Be ready, people.

Taglist:

@frieddonutsweets @imarivers8 @queenz-z @emistar0 @jayjayspixiepop @waffleyunsure @bigpicklebananatree @kking13 @redbullgivescaswings @ritacrow-blog @marvel--unsolved @redgemsposts @alexizlazy @toodaloo-kangaroo @gajer-1226 @adrestar @noisydeputyturkeybear @unoriginalmess @achaoticmess1

A dreary room appeared on the screen as the video started. An attempt at making it kid-friendly could be seen, but it was obviously a room from a police station, or some other kind of government-funded institution.

A little girl of Asian descent was sitting on a chair facing the camera. Almost out of frame, and a little underneath the camera, a man and a woman could be seen sitting, facing her.

“Come on, kid,” the man started with a soft voice, in heavily accented English, before leaning slightly forward. “Can you tell us your name, at least?”

The little girl didn’t react, beside a narrowing of her eyes.

“Alright kid, what about that? If you tell us your name,” he continued, one of his hands searching for something in his jacket. He took out a lollipop and presented it to her. “I will give you this—”

The girl cut him off with a scream. She screeched loudly, eyes closed shut and voice full of terror, quickly putting as much space between her and the lollipop as humanly possible. The man stood up, panic obvious in his movements.

The woman rushed to the kid, trying to calm her down and failing. The man made a move to follow her, only to bump into the table in his way. The kid, Marinette — Mei, opened her eyes at the sound, and screeched even louder when she saw the man trying to get closer to her.

“Okay, Mark, get out,” the woman said in French, turning toward her colleague.

“Quoi?” The newly identified Mark asked, freezing in place.

“You are stressing her out! We are not going to get anywhere if you stay here!” She hissed, turning to glare at him. “Get out!”

Mark’s shoulder slumped, but he turned around and got out of the room. The woman didn’t say anything until they heard the sound of the door closing.

“Alright honey,” she said in English, her French accent almost unnoticeable. “I got him out, he is not here anymore. See?”

Marinette nodded shakily, eyes staring unblinkingly in the door’s direction.

“My name is Laure,” the woman said slowly, still trying to get a name out of the girl, sitting down more comfortably on the floor. When she saw she wouldn't get an answer, she continued. “Can you tell me what about Mark scared you?”

Marinette turned her stare toward Laure for a moment, and when they were starting to think she was not going to answer when she opened her mouth.

“It’s not good when strangers give you candy,” she said softly, her tone making clear that she thought Laure wasn’t very bright, if she needed an explanation. “Because if they do, then they take you out of your home.”

“Gotham, right?” Laure asked, and Marinette’s eyes widened in surprise. “It was in the files we found with you. They knew where you came from, but not your name.”

“They didn’t ask for a name,” Marinette said flatly.

“Can you tell me your name?” Laure tried again, a little smile on her face.

“No,” Marinette stated, causing Laure’s smile to turn a little strained.

“Ah, okay,” Laure said slowly, obviously at a loss of what to say. “What can you tell me about the people who took you?”

“They had candy,” she responded without hesitation. “When can I go back home?”

“Well, it will depend on when we find you a home,” Laure said with a smile. “The child psych–”

“Just put me in one of Gotham’s children’s halls,” Marinette said with narrowed eyes. “Which one doesn’t really matter.”

“Sweetie,” Laure said with a grimace. “You’re not going back to Gotham.”

“What?!” Marinette exclaimed loudly, getting up from her position on the floor. “You can’t keep me from Gotham!”

“Sweetie–”

“Don’t ‘sweetie’ me!” Marinette cut in with a shrill voice. “I have to go back to Gotham! Annie is in Gotham!”

“Who is Annie?”

“Family,” Marinette hissed, trying to walk around Laure to run out of the room.

“Then tell us your name!” Laure exclaimed, grabbing Marinette around the waist. “We can find your family with your name, then we will send you back to them.”

Marinette stayed silent, glaring down at the floor.

“We — I can’t help you if you don’t give us your name, honey,” Laure tried again with a tired sigh. “Help me find Ann—”

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

“What are you watching?” Bruce's voice cut in from behind them, and Duke saw Barbara push the spacebar to put the video on pause.

The three of them turned around to stare at him intensely, and Bruce’s head jerked back in surprise at what he saw on their faces.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s file on the Batcomputer,” Duke told him, wanting to see his reaction. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t for Bruce to shake his head in amusement.

“Tim already asked for your help? He gave up earlier than I thought,” he said with a chuckle.

“What does Tim have to do with anything?” Duke asked, confusion clear on his face and voice. He really didn’t know how Bruce came to this conclusion.

“What do you mean?” Bruce asked with a frown. “If not because of Tim, why are you looking at Miss Dupain-Cheng’s file?”

“Why is Tim looking into her?” Barbara asked, instead of answering, turning her wheelchair completely around to face Bruce.

“Don’t change the subject,” he told her with a frown. “What are you not telling me?”

“Why do you have a file on Dupain-Cheng in the Batcomputer?”

“Barbara, what are you not telling me?” He asked in his I’m-not-joking-around tone. She stared at him for a moment, before rolling her eyes with a sigh.

“Do you know her name? The one she had before being found in Paris?” She asked him slowly, and all three of them studied Bruce’s face carefully.

“No,” he said with a frown, his eyes moving to the paused video on the screen. “Mrs Perreault tried to get it out of her for another twenty minute in this video, but she barely even said another word. And if she told her family or friends after that, there is no mention of it anywhere. Why?”

“We do,” Barbara said slowly, her fingers tapping a rhythm on the arm of her wheelchair. “She was in the Riddler’s attack at the school, and it came up in the conversation between her, Dad, and Duke.”

“Alright,” he said, and Duke could tell that he was apprehending their next words. Bruce looked at him before continuing. “And what is it?”

“It’s…” Duke started, shooting a look at Barbara, who only looked encouragingly at him. The traitor just didn’t want to be the one to tell Bruce. He took a deep breath, before looking back at Bruce. “She said it’s Mei Leyton.”

Every muscle in Bruce's body visibly froze at this, all emotions were wiped out of his face, and he stared at Duke intensely. He then turned toward Barbara, silently asking her to confirm.

“It looks like it checks out. We don’t have pictures of Mei after her seven’s birthday, and she changed a lot between then and when the French police found her but,” Barbara started, turning her wheelchair back toward the monitor and bringing things up on the screen as she talked. “I put it in facial reconnaissance software and it’s a match.”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng is Mei Leyton,” Bruce stated more than asked with a quiet voice. He walked forward until he was standing just beside Barbara, looking at the screen with so much intensity, Duke was afraid it would catch fire. “The same Mei Leyton I’ve been looking for, for eight years now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were still looking?” Barbara asked with a tone of reproach, and Duke could say that she was pissed. “You told me that she was most probably dead, that I should stop looking. You forced me to stop looking, and then you go and look for her?”

“You were using the search for Mei as a way to cope with Jason’s death,” Bruce told her, not unkindly. “It wasn’t good for you, I couldn’t let you continue.”

“But it was good for you?” She shot back with a glare. “Don’t tell me looking for her wasn’t a coping mechanism for you, too!”

“It was different.”

“It was not!”

“Barbara,” Bruce said with a sigh, before seemingly deciding to let the subject drop. “Did you tell Jason?”

“Not yet,” Duke said when Barbara stayed silent, only continuing to glare at Bruce. “We found her file on the Batcomputer, as Marinette, and we wanted to know why you had it before talking with Jason.”

“It didn’t have anything to do with Mei’s search,” Bruce said, instantly understanding what Duke wasn't saying. “I wouldn’t have kept it from Jason if it had.”

“We just needed to be—”

“Then what is it?” Barbara cut him off, still staring at Bruce. “Why do you have a file on her?”

“For another reason,” he just said.

“We want to know this reason, Father,” Damian intervened for the first time, and Duke had almost forgotten he was even there, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Bruce.

“This is not something that I’m at liberty to discuss with any of you,” he replied, with his you-won’t-make-me-change-my-mind tone.

“No,” Barbara breathed out, and Duke looked at her to see her jerk back in surprise, eyes wide.

“Barbara,” Bruce said with a warning tone.

“I’m right, aren’t I? She is… You can’t keep that from Jason, Bruce,” she told him, with the same voice she used on Dick to make him stop using so much puns on patrol.

The tone she uses when she already knows the battle is lost.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss this with anyone, Barbara,” Bruce said again, more forcefully, and Duke knew the subject was closed. And that Damian and him wouldn’t be privy of the information Barbara obviously deduced. “You should call Jason, the earlier we tell him, the better.”

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

“Why is she splitting up with her class?”

“How should I know? You’re the one with a crush, Timbo, work it out.”

“It’s not a crush—”

“No names in the field, Hood.”

“You sounded just like B, Nightwing.”

“Har, har. Hilarious. Also, totally a crush, Red.”

“It’s not! She made B react! And she acted weird at lunch—”

“You took her out already? Wow, you’re working faster than you were with Ladybug, congrats Red!”

“Ah, I don’t know about that. She knew you were there, at lunch, or were you just spying on her?”

“Oh my god, can you both shut up! B all but confirmed there was something going on with her, I just want to know what!”

“So you’re gonna follow her?”

“Yes! Nightwing, can you take over the class for me, please?”

“...Fine. But don’t be creepy with her, Red, okay?”

“Seriously?!”

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

Walking through Gotham’s bleary streets as an adult was so different from living in them as a kid; Marinette couldn’t help but be amazed. And maybe it was weird, but it really was an amazing experience. She did tell Alya that Gotham had changed a lot in ten years, but she hadn’t really realized how much until now.

She honestly hadn’t thought her teachers would still let her go on her own, what with the Riddler’s attack, but they didn’t even protest a little. Apparently, the paperworks and waivers she and her parents signed that allowed her to roam free after school hours, were more than enough for them.

Now, she just needed to lose her tail.

She didn’t know why one of Gotham’s vigilantes — she couldn’t see them well enough to identify which one — was following her, but it was probably because of how she took care of the Riddler situation. And, honestly, she would have let them tail her, she could understand why they would be wary of her in their city, but not today. Not for what she wanted to do.

And maybe shaking a tail from one of the Batclan wasn’t a smart move to make them forget her, but…

She didn’t need, or want, spectators for when she was going to visit the closest thing her mother had to a grave.

So she worked her magic.

She walked straight into a dense group of passerby walking in the other direction, and started walking with them. She took off Ashley’s jacket, putting it in her bag, before untying her hair, taking out the cap and sunglasses she had in her bag and putting them on.

When her group merged slightly with a group going into the opposite direction, the one she was taking originally, she slipped in with them, losing the cap then. She changed groups again, putting Ashley’s jacket on backward and losing the glasses.

She did it a couple of times more, before she was totally sure she did shake them off. It was a detour, making her route longer than anticipated but, on the bright side, she was now in front of a cute little flower shop. Hopefully, they would have some Iris, they always were her mother’s favourites.

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

“I lost her.”

“What?!”

“What do you mean, you lost her?!”

“I mean that I lost her tail! I’m not speaking Spanish Hood!”

“I speak Spanish, I would have unders—”

“That’s not the point and you—”

“Cut it out, guys. Can we go back to the fact that Red Robin just lost a target?”

“Yeah, Red, aren’t you like, the best stalker in this city? How the hell did a high schooler spot and escape you?!”

“I don’t know if she knew I–”

“She lost you, Timbo, of fucking course she knew you were following her.”

“Hood, no na—”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get your panties in a twist. Where was she when you lost her, raawr?”

“...”

“...”

“What was that sound at the end, Hood?”

“What? Raawr?”

“Yeah, that. Are you having a stroke?”

“Har har. No, but Nightwing is insisting on codenames only.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s his codename.”

“No it’s not. I’m pretty sure I would know if my codename was… Raawwrr.”

“No, not raawwrr, Raawr.”

“That was the exact same sound…”

“No it was not. The first is the sound you make when you’re having a stroke. The second is how you pronounce the double R.”

“Are you serious right now? Seriously? Can’t you just call me Red? Or Red Robin?”

“No, I’m not like other girls, Raawr.”

“What the hell, Ja—”

“Tututut, Nightwing said no name on the field Raawr.”

“And I’m now begging you to stop this torture, Hood.”

“You brought this upon yourself, Nightie.”

“No. Hood don’t—”

“Anyway! Raawr, her location?”

“...”

“Just tell him, Red. He will not stop, no matter what we say.”

“You betcha I won't.”

“...Fuck you. She was a little past the 4th, going south, I think. Why do you even want to know?”

“And she went there by passing through Main or Schnapp Avenue?”

“Schnapp Avenue.”

“And you said she was originally from Gotham?”

“Yeah… She said she was adopted at ten, but her Mom died at seven. She didn’t mention anything in between.”

“...What was she wearing today?”

“What? What does that have to do with anything?”

“I think I know where she is going, I just want to be sure.”

“And her clothes would help…how?”

“Just answer his question Ra–Red.”

“Ugh, alright. She was wearing a dress, blue and white, with black embroidery, some sort of flower I couldn’t really see, because she had a Gotham Academy’s jacket. I don’t think the jacket was hers, obviously.”

“I think it was a camellia. I know where she is going.”

“How?!”

“...”

“Hood, how do you know where she is going just through Red’s description of her clothes? For that matter, how do you know what flower— Oh.”

“Yeah, she is going to visit the Fallen’s Memorial, on Camellia Street.”

“What memorial?”

“Do you know how long the morgue keeps bodies, after the case is classed, Raawr?”

“A year in Gotham. Too much murder, not enough places in the morgue.”

“And do you know what they do if nobody reclame the body? If, say, they don’t have family left, or their family doesn't have the money to bury them?”

“They… Yeah, they incinerate them…”

“Yeah, and the people in Camellia are the most touched by that. Do you know how many workers are killed there every year? Too much. And do you know how many bodies end up buried every year?”

“...”

“One, maybe two. And only if they had a rich and generous regular… Not something that happens a whole lot. So they put up a memorial, it’s the closest those people have to a grave.”

“And you think she is going there?”

“Going by the directions Raawr gave me? It’s the most likely option.”

“Yeah, he could be right. And… The flower did look like a camellia, from what I could see.”

“I’m not far from there, I will try to pick up the trail again, see if she notices me as fast as she noticed Raawr.”

“She didn’t—”

“Sorry! I can’t hear you! I’m going dark, bye Raawr! Bye Nightie!”

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

“Hey Mom,” she started slowly, putting down the flowers, a couple of beautiful white Irises, in between all the other ones.

The Memorial wasn’t much, only names painted on a wall, but it was all they could afford to remember all the people who couldn’t be buried.

It took her a minute to retrieve her mother's names, taking the time to pass a hand on all the names that were added since the last time she was here. Jason had made it a point to take her here every couple of weeks, and even more regularly at the beginning.

She had missed coming here.

“I sincerely hope you and Jason are well, Mom. Although, you better be taking care of each other, alright?!” She told the wall, a sad smile on her lips.

She had talked to her mother while away from home, of course, in the dead of the night, or when she was in the middle of a crisis. But being here… It made her feel so much closer to her mother.

“You probably already know, but my life has been a mess for a while,” she said softly. “But it’s finally getting better! And I’m gonna be home, permanently, soon. I got admitted to Gotham U, for a double major in design and business.”

She put her hands in the pocket of her dress — one of the wonders of making her own clothes — and started to sway slightly on her feet.

“I met two of Jason’s brothers in the last two days. I don’t know if they knew him or not, I just…” She sighed, shoulders slumping a little. “I don’t know where he is buried. I know it’s not important to be there to talk to him but… I already let him down in life, I wouldn’t forgive myself if I never get to see him. If I don’t ask him to forgive me face to face. But I didn’t have the strength to ask them for the location. I’m not even sure they would have given it anyway but…

“Tell him I’m sorry, Mom. Please, tell him I tried to come back. Tell him I didn’t want—” She cut herself when she heard steps behind her, turning her head slightly to see what was happening.

She thought it would be another mourner, or maybe the vigilante picking up her trail again, but the smug smile on the man's face was not something a mourner would wear here. And he definitely wasn’t a Bat.

“Well, what a cutie like you is doing out there,” he said slowly, his words a bit slurred.

“Don’t you know where we are?” She asked, eyes narrowed. If she had known how much this trip would grate on her nerves, she would probably have made that deal with Lila, back at the library. “Don’t you have any respect?”

“What? Are you here to pay your respect, maybe?” He said with a small mocking laugh. “With how dolled up you’re? I don't think so.”

“How dare you—”

“Come on, babe, just give me a price,” he continued over her, as if she didn’t even open her mouth.

“I wouldn’t take you as a client even if you were to pay me with Bruce Wayne’s fortune,” Marinette snapped at him, letting go of her bag and taking a menacing step toward him.

But, of course, he didn’t take her seriously.

“Then I’ll just take what I want,” he said, stretching out an arm to grab her, and his smile turned vicious.

She grabbed his forearm before he could, turning him around with it and pushing him. She locked it in his back, pushing the pig’s face first in the wall opposite the Memorial, not without taking notice of the sound of someone landing behind her. When whoever landed there didn’t make a move, she put them on the back burner and focused back on the pig.

“Listen, you asshole,” she hissed in his ear, locking his arm higher. “I’m having a very bad week, and it started only two days ago, and now you’re trying to be the biggest salopard ever, when I’m at my Mom’s grave for the first time in years? You are lucky your nose is the only thing that I’m going to break tonight, shithead.”

He opened his mouth, probably to spew more bullshit, and Marinette grabbed his hair with her free hand, and made good on her promise. It had the fortunate side effect of getting him unconscious. Which was a plus in her book.

Satisfied, she turned around, only to find herself face to helmet with Red Hood.

“Oh. You are Red Hood,” she said dumbly, blinking up at him.

“That I am,” he replied, and despite the voice changer, Marinette could hear amusement in his tone. He looked down at the pig’s unconscious body.

“I’m not usually that violent,” she felt obligated to mention, tone a bit bashful.

“Hell, don’t feel bad about it, he had it coming,” Red Hood told her, his head slightly tilted, like he was studying her.

“Well… It was fun meeting you, I will let you take care of him,” Marinette said, pointing a thumb toward the pig. “I’m a big fan of your work, by the way.”

“Of my work?” He asked, tone incredulous, head jerking back in surprise. “You mean, Batman—”

“No. Well, yes, but at the moment I was talking about yours,” she said, walking back toward her mother’s name. “He did a lot for Gotham, but you, you changed things in Crime Alley more than he ever did.”

He stayed silent for a moment, and she could tell he was staring at her intensely. She ignored him, passing a hand over her Mom’s name.

“Bye Mom,” she said softly. She ignored Red Hood’s sharp inhale of breath behind her, used to this reaction when people learned about her mother. “I will come back before I leave, I promise.”

She turned around to grab her bag and leave, only to find Red Hood way closer than he had been a second ago. He was staring at her, there was no way he was not, fist closed tight by his sides. She couldn’t see them, not with his gloves, but she was sure his knuckles were white. She didn’t have the time to be surprised, because he said something she wasn’t expecting to hear.

“Sandy?” His voice was low, his tone broken, and the word was mostly choked out, but she knew what she heard. She tensed up, her features twisting with anger.

She was at the end of her rope, everything since the start of this trip kept piling up, but that? That was just too much.

“Where did you hear that name?! How do you know anything about that name?!”

She took a menacing step, even if she didn’t expect him to feel threatened by her, ready to keep questioning him nonetheless. But…

He took a step back, putting his right hand in front of him, the thumb of his left hand cracking his middle finger, and let out a nervous chuckle. And she… She paused.

Because it was impossible. Unbelievable. But…

“What name? I didn’t say any names, did I? I was just,” He said nervously, still laughing awkwardly.

It was right there. In front of her. Hitting her in the face like a brick. After all, she had seen weirder before, hadn’t she?

“Asking when you leave! Sunday! I said Sunday!” He added, almost crowning in victory.

And how many times did she see this reaction before? The position, the crack of his finger, the name. It was him. It could only be him. (She would break if she was wrong, she knew she would but… She couldn’t be wrong.)

“Because you probably leave on Sunday don’t y—”

“Annie,” she choked out, barely a whisper, but it shut him off. And that was the only confirmation she needed. Tears started flowing down her cheeks, the dam she put on years ago breaking off. She whimpered again, painfully this time, her breath staying stuck in her throat. Choking on her own words, she forgot how to breathe. “Annie.”

He stayed silent for a moment too long, and Marinette broke harder than if she had been wrong. He was here. He was alive, somehow, but… He hated her. And she knew why; she left him after all. He was right to hate her, he had all the reasons to.

And there were not a lot of things she could tell him to make him forgive her.

But she could try.

“I—” She started, only to be cut off by her own sobbing. She extended her right hand toward him, only to stop herself, bracing it against her chest with her left hand. She didn’t have the right to touch him, not when he so obviously hated her for what she did. “I’m so sorry. I know you hate me, I know— You probably think I choose to leave, but I swear, I didn’t— I tried to come back to you, I really did but they wouldn’t—

“And I know that doesn’t change anything about what I did. I know I still left you, and you probably can’t forgive me for that but— I know I have no right to ask you that, but please, just listen to me. Let me explain why—”

The pig she had beaten unconscious made a sound, reminding her of where they were, and what Jason was wearing. Because of course her brother would come back from the dead and become a vigilante with a side of crime lord.

“I can’t force you to listen to me,” she said, forcing herself into Ladybug mode — again, she hadn’t done it two time in a day since Hawkmoth. “But if you can give me a chance to explain myself, please, come find me. I’m staying at the Belle Monico, room 317.”

She turned toward the pig, but he was still out of it.

“Please, Jason,” she added quietly, and he jerked in surprise. She only called him Jason when she was feeling down.

Then, like the courageous woman and superhero she was, she turned around and fled the place.

She couldn’t stay to hear him say no. Hear him say that what she did was unforgivable, that no matter what she would say, nothing could convince him to forgive her.

That he hated her more than he had ever hated his father.

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

He was frozen. Locked in place, his muscles refusing to listen to him. She was here. In front of him. She was not lost to him anymore. She wasn’t dead. She was talking to him, alive, breathing, healthy, crying. He could understand why, though. He was crying too. She was alive. His little sister was alive.

“I can’t force you to listen to me but, if you can give me a chance to explain myself, please, come find me. I’m staying at the Belle Monico, room 317,” she said, looking back toward the asshole — who had just tried to hurt his little sister. “Please, Jason.”

He jerked back, because what? She wasn’t supposed to be sad. They just found each other again, it was a happy occasion! Then, the words she had been saying to him finally registered. Explain herself? Forgive her? She wasn’t responsible!

He knew she didn’t leave him on purpose, that something else, something out of her control, happened to her. He never believed otherwise, not even for a second. How could she doubt that?

By the time he understood what was happening, she was already turning the corner. He was about to follow her, even if having Red Hood run behind her would be far from convenient. He didn’t really care at the moment.

But, before he even got one foot off the floor, he was cut off by Red Robin barging in with his bike.

“Turn on your comm Hood, that’s urgent!”

He closed his eyes, sighing. The timing was shitty, but the interruption made him rethink his project to corner Mei in his Red Hood get up.

“Take care of that asshole, Red Robin.”

Tim looked taken aback, by the sharp tone or the complet codename, Jason didn’t know, and didn’t care. He turned around, making his way back toward his bike. He really didn’t care what Bruce wanted him to do in tonight’s patrol, he had better things to do.

Still, to let him know he would have to turn on his earpiece.

He sighed, but reluctantly did it. Already opening his mouth to talk, but cut off by Oracle’s voice.

“—tter pick up, Hood. Seriously, what sort of idiot goes dark at the start of patrol?! If he is not on in two seconds, I will virtually end—”

“Calm down a notch, Oracle, would ya? I was busy,” he cut her off, not wanting to know what she would have done to him. She could be vicious.

“Hood! Great! Come back to the Batcave,” she told him, going directly to business. Fuck, that meant that, whatever it was, it was serious. “We got knew informations about Dupain-Cheng and—”

“You mean; that she is Mei?” Jason said, cutting her off again — not something he would have done, if he wasn’t a total wreck at the moment. He heard a couple of gasps, letting him know that this information had already been shared in the family. “Yeah, guess what. You're late to the party.”

“Jason, you need to come to the Cave,” Oracle said, and that actually made him pause. Barbara was almost as uptight as Bruce when it concerned codenames. That she would call him Jason in the suit…

Then he remembered why he had been tailling Mei in the first place. Bruce. What had he known, exactly?

“I’ll be there in twelve minutes,” he told her, voice dark.

“From your position it would be twenty,” she replied, and he knew she was frowning.

“Twelve minutes, Oracle,” he repeated, before turning his earpiece off. Despite knowing that it would definitely piss her off.

If Bruce had known that Marinette was Mei…

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

It took him eleven minutes to reach the Cave, and Barbara was impressed despite herself. She would never tell him, of course, or he would never shut up about it. Once he calmed down, at least.

“Jason, it’s not as serious as it seems,” she started, rolling her wheelchair to cut off his path. “He didn’t know.”

“He knows something,” Jason said, taking off his helmet and setting it on the seat of his bike. And Barbara very carefully didn’t stare at the tear track on his cheeks. Ignoring her, he walked around her and straight to Bruce. “You know something, and I want to know what.”

“Jason,” Bruce started, trying to stall him, but Jason didn’t let him have any words in.

“No. You know something, and it concerns Mei, I want to know what. Even if you thought her name was different, she is still my little sister.”

“I can’t share this information, Jason,” Bruce said tiredly, pressing on his eyes with his hand.

“Why not? She is my little sister—”

“You keep saying that,” Damian broke in, a confused frown on his face as he stared at the Batcomputer. “Yet, she didn’t ask for you.”

“What?” Jason choked off, eyes wide with surprise. And Barbara could see the disbelief there, too. He thought there was no way she didn’t ask for him.

“Here,” Damian said, putting the interview’s video on the screen.

~~~~

“You can’t keep me from Gotham!”

“Sweetie–”

“Don’t ‘sweetie’ me! I have to go back to Gotham! Annie is in Gotham!”

“Who is Annie?”

“Family.”

“Then tell us your name! We can find your family with your name, then we wi—”

~~~~

“Beside asking for this Annie from time to time, she didn’t say anything else for the next twenty minutes,” Damian continued, looking sincerely confused, while Jason was staring at the screen, in a daze. “She never asked for you.”

“She did,” Jason said softly, making them all look at him in surprise. He laughed softly, and Barbara couldn’t help but stare at him in amazement. She hasn't heard him laugh like that since… It’s been a long time. “I’m Annie.”

“What?” Damian looked only more confused, and she couldn’t even blame the poor kid, she wasn’t sure to follow Jason either.

Nobody acknowledged Dick and Tim’s arrival, who had probably been listening to everything through the comms anyway, waiting for Jason to continue.

“She called me Annie, growing up,” he said with a soft, amused smile, obviously thinking about this period of his life. “And I would call her Sandy.”

“Annie and Sandy? Seriously?” Tim exclaimed, just as he finished taking off his mask. He winced when everyone beside Jason turned to glare at him. He mouthed ‘what?’ at them, pouting, but Barbara could see that he already regretted his interruption.

“Yeah,” Jason said, thankfully not taking the remark badly. “Though, believe it or not, she called me that because she thought there was no way it would happen to any of us.”

“And Sandy?” Dick asked, seeing as Jason was in a surprisingly chatty mood.

“She did follow me around like a puppy,” Jason said with a smile and a shrug.

“How does that explain anything?” Damian said, making Barbara sharply remember how he was raised.

“It’s an old movie,” she told him simply, with a smile, not wanting him to think that she pitied him, or thought that he was an idiot for not knowing. “It’s really old, so I’m surprised Tim even saw it—”

“I saw the remake,” Tim cut off with half his mouth up in an insolent smile. Barbara only rolled her eyes.

“And it’s about an orphan girl, Annie, and her dog, Sandy,” she continued, as if Tim hadn't said anything. “Who is adopted by a rich man. Well, the girl is adopted, the dog really just follows along.”

“And she called you Annie because she thought it would never happen,” he said, turning toward Jason with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s a little more complicated but, essentially, yes,” he told him with a roll of his eyes. He opened his mouth to say more, but was cut off by a phone ringing loudly in the Cave.

Everyone turned slowly toward the sound, staring at Bruce. The man closed his eyes with a sigh, probably cursing his phone for putting him back in the spotlight, before taking out the offending object.

“It’s Gordon,” he said slowly, and he left nothing show on his voice or face, but Barbara knew he was feeling apprehensive.

“Then you better answer quickly, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, making everyone jump up in surprise. She shared a wide eyed look with Duke and Dick, but neither seemed to know when Alfred joined them, either.

“I—” Bruce said, trying very hard, and failing, to not let his own surprise show on his face. He sighed, and answered the phone. Looking up to see them all stare at him, he rolled his eyes and put the phone on speaker. “Hello Commissioner Gordon, how can I help you?”

“She is alive,” her dad said, not bothering with small talk. “You probably already know that, of course. I didn’t have a damn minute before now to call you.”

“I’m not sure to follow, Commissioner, I’m sorry,” Bruce said, and Barbara rolled her eyes. Her father was a good cop and he, at the very least, knew that Bruce worked closely with Batman.

“Batman knew you were looking for her too, Wayne, don’t take me for an idiot. There is now way Signal’s discovery didn’t reach your ears yet,” he told him, his tone sharp. “Mei Leyton is fucking alive. We’ve been looking for her for eight years, Wayne, and I found her by accident. Can you believe that?”

“It also took me by surprise,” Bruce said, looking at his phone and skillfully ignoring the surprised stare Jason was giving him. “I’m glad we finally have our answers.”

“Yeah,” her dad said softly, and Barbara winced at the words she knew would follow. “I’m sorry the kid is not here to see it, Wayne.”

“Me too, Commissioner, me too,” Bruce said after a short pause, eyes closed.

“I have to go now, Wayne, but, please, don’t crowd the kid,” her dad said after a minute of silence, he paused again, before adding softly. “I think she would appreciate it, if you took her to his grave.”

“I will be careful with her, Gordon,” Bruce said with a voice softer than she would expect from him. Then, he looked up, looking at Jason for the first time since the start of this conversation. “And I will let her know that she could visit Jason whenever she wants to.”

The conversation was wrapped up with a couple of goodbyes, Bruce not moving his eyes from Jason the entire time. They all stayed silent for a moment after Bruce hung up, at a loss of what to say.

“You looked for her,” Jason stated more than asked. “All this time, even after I died, you looked for Mei.”

“Of course I did,” Bruce said tiredly, sadly, sitting down on a chair, shoulder slumping slightly. It was the most emotion she had seen in him in a long while. Maybe even back before Dick left for Blüdhaven. “She was the only family you had left, I owed it to you to make sure she was safe.”

“Thank you,” Jason said softly, turning back to look at the screen.

Everyone stayed silent for a moment, letting all those emotions settle, before Jason suddenly coughed nervously.

“Ah, I should probably let you know that Mei recognized me as Red Hood,” he said bashfully, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“What?!” Everyone, beside Alfred, exclaimed with different levels of shock and loudness.

[dancingamongstdust]

Old Habits (Warren Worthington x Reader)

So I was digging around in my old files and I found this from a few years ago. I’m sure I published it somewhere once but I have no idea where. Either way, the writing isn’t too bad so I thought some readers here may enjoy it. 

Before, when you originally met Warren, you had never had an issue with reaching out and grabbing his wings if he tried to march away from you. It had become a habit.

There would be an argument over something inconsequential and both of you would scream and shout like children. Warren would realise that his temper was getting out of control and try to stalk away from the fight before it got out of control. You would snatch a fistful of his feathers or the edge of a wing; anything that was within range was ample gain. It never hurt him but he stopped moving due to the sensation. Then he would turn around and kiss you until your lips were bruised and you couldn’t breathe properly.

This time…

You had been eternally grateful to Charles Xavier for bringing Warren back despite all his previous actions and your heart belonged to whoever had saved his life. When you had seen him walking through that portal, you had sold yourself on the notion that you would never be seeing him again. A bitter reality without the white angel wings that you had spent hours wrapped in.

The fight had been inconsequential really. Something about his sulking and yelling at anybody who tried to get close to him.

But now you withdrew your hand as quickly as you reached out.

Warren still spun around to look, the metal feathers screeching against the walls as he did so. Instead of kissing you, his eyes fell on your bloody hand and he reached for it with tentative hands. “I…” his words died in his throat.

You met his eyes with a clouded expression and sighed. “Sorry,” you said. “I forgot…” Your eyes fell on the huge metal wings and you sighed. “I didn’t think that through. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Warren said. “No, you shouldn’t have had to think about it in first place.” Unlike the feathered version, these wings made a horrendous noise when they bristled and even he winced at the sound. “Just go and get somebody to look at that.” And he stormed back into his temporary room, slamming the door far too loudly behind him.

You sighed, shoulders slumping. Charles had approached you to see if you could possibly fix the situation and maybe convince Warren to relax a little more in the mansion. His end goal obviously being to offer the angelic mutant a permanent place to stay.

Stomach churning, you hurried down the stairs to the nearest mutant that could heal your hand or at least somebody who knew basic medical skills.

Two stitches and a little bit of healing later, you were sitting in your own room and staring down at your bandages. While you had been standing up there, it hadn’t hurt at all but now it was burning like fire. You rubbed it gently and sighed. Warren had always been self-sabotaging. At this point, shutting you out could almost be classified as a hobby of his.

So eventually – at an hour that any reasonable person would be asleep at – you climbed out of bed and marched over to the room to quiet your wailing mind. If you didn’t know Warren’s self-destructive tendencies you would have presumed it was too late.

But you had lived with the man before.

You didn’t bother knocking. You knew that Warren would have pretended he didn’t hear you. So you counted on him forgetting – or purposefully – not locking the door.

“I’m tired of this,” you said when Warren finally noticed you and removed the headphones that were blaring rock music so loudly that you could hear them from across the room. You walked over and sat on an untouched desk, watching the winged mutant carefully. “Every day, you make me sit and watch you turn all that anger and hatred inwardly and I can’t do anything about it. I feel useless when it comes to you. Like there’s nothing I can do to help.”

“Help?” he scoffed. “Help what?”

“You.”

He rolled his eyes and sat up on the bed, those metal feathers screaming a symphony as they were dragged across the wall. “I don’t need your help,” he said. He glanced at your bandaged hand. “Look what happens when you try. I’m fine. They said that my feathered wings will grow back soon and then I’ll be able to get as far away from this fucking place as possible.”

“I want to stay.”

“Then stay.”

You gave a forced laugh. “And here I thought you knew me well enough to know that there isn’t a chance that you would leave without me following.”

Warren crossed his arms and his wings puffed up as he attempted to become more intimidating. It would work on most people. Not you. “Nobody likes codependent twits,” he grumbled. “But then again, it’s not my problem if you want to chase me around the country like some lost poodle. If you get killed, I don’t want anybody blaming it for me.”

“It’s not… alright, no, I’m not rising to that,” you said firmly. “No matter how often you insult me, I’m not going to leave and you know that by now. Warren, won’t you at least consider staying here? There are others who –“

“Joined forces with an ancient evil and attempted to bring about the end of the world because they were offered shiny wings then almost died and had to be saved by their enemy out of pity. Just so many of those assholes running around that I can barely even walk without seeing one.” His hair was falling into his face now but he didn’t seem interested in doing anything about it. “But they don’t count if they switched sides during the actual battle.”

“You were unconscious the majority of the battle.”

“Thank you for reminding me. I wasn’t aware.”

You sighed and reached out to move his hair away from his eyes. It said something that he didn’t move away despite the glare he was sending in your direction. “Wouldn’t you prefer to be able to rest for a little while until you got back onto your feet?” you asked. “I’ve been talking to some of the people here and they’re all friendly if you give them a chance.”

“I don’t see any weapons attached to your back that are constantly hurting people you actually care about,” he noted.

“My hand was my own fault,” you repeated. You stood up and moved closer, reaching the uninjured hand past his head and resting it gently on the metal of his feathers. “See? I’m being careful now and it’s not getting me hurt. If I had taken a few more seconds to think it through, I wouldn’t have grabbed your wing out of habit. But you said they’ll go back to being normal soon.”

“Apparently,” he said. “Some of them have fallen off but they’re meant to do that. What would you do if they stayed metal? You’d have to start finding your own beds instead of curling up next to me constantly. Something tells me you won’t find these wings ‘comforting’.”

A phrase you had always used when speaking about his wings and it hurt to hear him spit it with such bitterness in his tone. It had always been something genuine to you. “They probably won’t keep me as warm as the normal feathers,” you admitted. “But I don’t doubt that I could grow used to them and love them as much as I adored the originals.”

He scoffed. “Always a fucking optimist. Even when I have tattoos that probably will never fade etched into my face.”

“I’m not always an optimist,” you said. “When you disappeared into that cage fighting thing for months without telling me and then came back with your wing fried to a crisp, I was so worried that I thought I would vomit. I lost countless hours due to nightmares about waking up and finding you dead or missing again.”

“And then you did.”

“I was too late,” you said. “No matter what you said, I knew that your wings were making you distressed and I wanted to help but I didn’t know how. If I had figured out how to fix things sooner then there wouldn’t have been a reason for you to go with that asshole.”

Warren just glared at you and then flicked his bedside lamp off and lay down on his side. It used to hurt his wings when he slept like that but you were unsure that the metal felt anything. Either way, you lay your hand on his shoulder temporarily and then took the hint to leave the room. There was nothing else for you to say or do.

Almost a week passed where you only opened the door to throw random food and drink items at Warren where he was pretending to be asleep. Sometimes he would mumble something and other times he would continue to ignore you. You took the bandage off a few days later. It was something Warren undoubtedly noticed but he didn’t say anything until the day you opened the door to find everything strewn across the floor in such a state of disarray that you flinched.

“What’s the problem?” you asked.

Warren glanced at you out of the corner of his eye and muttered something about not having any shirts that weren’t torn to shreds by his new wings. Which later led to you going shopping and returning with a bunch of new shirts with cuts in the back for the new wings. It took you a while and he grumbled under his breath when you dumped them on the floor but you didn’t say anything.

The charade continued day in and day out but you weren’t deterred. You waited patiently for Warren with a well-learned routine. This had happened many times before. A waiting game that you had perfected over many years of worrying about the angelic mutant who held so much of your attention and your heart.

You walked through the door with a milkshake in hand when he was busy plucking the metal feathers off his wings. Silently, you placed it down and settled cross-legged behind him on the bed to help him peel off the shedding metal over the unreachable areas.

It came off easily and you happily spotted some of the soft, white feathers peeking out from beneath the metal. You ran your fingers happily over it and smiled. They would be returning soon.

“You’re going to need to preen these daily while they’re growing out,” you said. You didn’t expect an answer but you said it with the knowledge that you would be the one to do it. “Otherwise they’re going to be crooked and then you won’t be able to fly properly.”

Warren’s feathers fluttered slightly as he turned around to face you. They didn’t sound quite as horrible when they brushed against the wall now and there were fewer grooves than before. Deep scratch marks already tore up the bedframe and one of the bedside lamps had disappeared a week ago. “Just leave.”

“Alright. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Why do you bother?”

Your fingers brushed the doorknob and you shrugged. “It’s just force of habit now.”

[anika-ann]

Attached: Word Is that We Might Work It Out

Type: Modern-college-professor AU - part of Attached series 

Pairing: professor!Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 6850🙈

Summary: You said yes to Professor Rogers – Steve – taking you out for ‘coffee’. Ball’s in your court – and you decide to make your move. 

A date, maybe first of many, maybe not. A date with the gorgeous professor who happened to read your erotica about him. What could possibly go wrong? 

Warnings:  alcohol consumption, professor-student relationship and unspecified age gap, language, lots of fluff

A/N: Timeline-wise, this one-shot fits in after chapter four of Attached!!! At the end, you can find the reason behind me writing this. You can consider it one big flashback, if you will 😅 Gif by capchrisevaans.

Series masterlist | previous in timeline

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

You lasted one day. One full day since the encounter in the office, since Professor Rogers admitted he would like to take you out for coffee or something similar. Since you two exchanged numbers.

It took you twenty-four hours – maybe less – to decide that so what if that might be a bad idea. It was not against the university rules and Professor Steve Rogers was a fucking specimen who also seemed to be a genuinely nice human being and if you allowed yourself to play chicken just because something only might go wrong in the future, you’d be an idiot.

Penny, your roomie, wholeheartedly agreed. She actually punched the air in victory as you were nursing a greasy lunch due to the wild-ish celebration of the end of the semester together the night prior and you just said to the void: “You know what, screw it. I’m gonna go for it.”

You didn’t even have to say what you were talking about – Professor Rogers had been the topic ever since the faithful Monday.

So you texted him that if the offer still stood, you’d like to meet up on Friday evening. Was he free?

Hey, Y/N :) Thank you for reaching out. Friday sounds great. Do you have anything specific in mind?

“Dude. He’s such a cutie. Who even texts like that?” Penny chuckled, a wide grin on her face as you couldn’t but read the text out loud.

“I texted him like that.”

“Touché. Because you want to impress mister ‘hot as fuck intellectual’ there.”

You just rolled your eyes, neither confirming nor denying. Mostly because Penny was right. But he was the first to use an emoji and… yeah, cutie indeed.

Well, I never say no to dinner and I’m down for almost anything-

“I bet you are,” Penny hummed to your ear and you swung after her blindly and thought of a better phrasing.

Well, I never say no to a dinner and I’m not picky. You choose. Seven-ish sounds good?

“Spoilsport.”

“Stop reading over my shoulder!” you chuckled and bit your lip as the answer came almost immediately.

Seven is alright. I’ll think of something to treat a girl right ;)

Your stomach made a small somersault, your face instantly radiating heat at the possible innuendo. The phone vibrated again before you could fully process the image your mind painted of him actually saying it in his gentle timbre.

Just so we’re clear, what is the nature of the dinner? It can be whatever you feel comfortable with.

Your heart leaped into your throat, hammering wildly.

That was the question, wasn’t it? Since you texted him, you made one thing clear with yourself. If you were doing this, it was going to be a date. You wouldn’t be doing things by halves.

Penny next to you made a noise that sounded as something between an aww and her gagging on nothing. “He’s disgustingly considerate for a man his age planning on going out with a girl your age.”

“He’s not that much older,” you protested instantly, frowning. He wasn’t. She knew that; you had both done your research. “And I think it’s amazing.”

You caught Penny’s smile from the corner of your eye as you typed.

“Well, it is kinda sweet. And I know he’s not, I’m messing with you. It’s just-- DON’T SEND HIM THAT!”

“Why?” you questioned, looking at her quizzically and totally clicking on send on purpose at the same time.

I’d be comfortable with a date if you are.

“It’s so lame. Of course he’s comfortable with a date, he suggested it. Duh.”

The reply came way too fast and Penny chuckled behind you as your jaw went slack.

“You know what? Don’t mind me. Good job. Keep it up,” Penny patted your shoulder as you stared at the screen where Professor Steven Grant Rogers just texted you a damn heart.

It’s a date <3

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

It was a date indeed.

Steve texted you an address on Friday morning (along with an adorable good morning :) ), apologizing that he couldn’t pick you up, making sure you’d be alright getting there on your own. You found it absolutely sweet, considerate and smart. You suspected that his ‘inability’ to pick you up had something to do with the fact that you lived at the dorms and if he showed up there, it would be trending in the university chit-chat room within five minutes.

You spent a better part of the Friday afternoon researching the place and the weather forecast so you could dress accordingly and getting ready.

You were not ready for a date with Steve Rogers however; your nerves were a mess and nothing could ever prepare you for when he showed up perfectly on time in front of the restaurant---- wearing a suit no less.

How were you supposed to function when he was wearing such elegant clothing, a suit he filled up so fucking well?! And he looked just as breath-taking as always, stupidly perfect beard and slightly tousled hair you just wanted to run your fingers through and his smile was so gorgeous and--- Jesus Fucking Christ, the suit- how could you even put words together when looking at him-

“Wow, I feel so underdressed now.”

Clearly, you could speak just fine, only you lost your brain-to-mouth filter. Also, your mouth might have started watering and your heart was pounding like crazy. You would not survive tonight.

But, you also had a point. The restaurant was supposed to be a nice place, but relatively plain. And he showed up in amazingly fitting dress pants, white shirt, a tie and a suit jacket. So yes, you did feel underdressed.

“Oh no, no! You’re not,” he rushed to reassure you, eyeing your semi-leisure white dress with burgundy flowers with an attentive gaze that had you shifting your weight nervously. “I’m overdressed if anything. Sticking out like a sore thumb, I’m sorry.”

You could always just strip the suit jacket, was your first thought, but luckily for you, this time you managed to contain the words before they got out to the open.

“You’re fine,” you said instead, not knowing how else to react; needless to say you were grateful for the smile he gave you despite the double meaning.

Yes, he was fine indeed. Always. It was unfair, really.

“Thanks. You too. In fact, you look beautiful.”

Your heart stopped in your chest, your mind suddenly racing a mile per minute.

It was ridiculous. It was just a word. But for one, it was spoken so kindly and genuinely you couldn’t but think he meant it, for two, it was Professor Steve Rogers who told you that and--- beautiful.

You couldn’t remember a guy ever calling you beautiful.

Cute? Sure. Pretty? Maybe. Hot? Might have happened once or twice . But beautiful?

You might actually swoon.

And you were so lost in your head that you couldn’t but silently stare at the lethally handsome man in front of you and then it again registered in your brain that this was your fucking crush speaking to you and he was on a date with you and he had read your erotica, one that was about him no less-

Your face was set aflame in an instant and you… you couldn’t let out a word.

“It everything okay? Did I… did I say something wrong?” Steve asked hesitantly, a concerned wrinkle appearing between his brows and it reminded you of all the times you had seen him wearing such thoughtful expression in the two classes he taught instead of Professor Barnes and-

You were screwed.

Tonight was going to be a disaster.

“No, uhm, no, sorry--- maybe we should go inside or-“ you muttered, lightly gesturing towards the door and could you get any more awkward?

“Yeah, sure, sounds good.”

He let you walk in first like a real gentleman, the lightest skim of his fingers on your lower back, which caused your heartbeat to skyrocket; and only when the hostess seated you, you realized you never accepted his kind compliment.

It was too late for that now, you assumed, so you sipped at the still water which waited at each table, and repeated like a mantra to yourself that you needed to get your shit together otherwise you’d ruin your shot before the night even started.

But clearly, you succeeded at that already.

Whatever awkward aura you had around yourself, it seemed to extend now to him too – he shifted slightly in his seat (he had pulled out your chair for you before, because of course he had), his shoulders stiff. Despite that, he smiled at you over the menu.

“So… all exams worked out? Enjoying the freedom?” he asked casually.

“Oh, yes. Yeah.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” you uttered with a forced smile, your stomach twisted unpleasantly.  

For some reason, you felt like you were having a lame attempt at small talk with a professor, which you were, but it wasn’t supposed to be like that.

Not tonight. Not on a date.

What were you even doing here? What were you playing at? Professor Steve Rogers was entirely out of your league, gorgeous, funny, kind and smart and here you were, barely making conversation.

It was pathetic really. It was embarrassing for both of you.

“You up to anything fun?” he queried, the question less enthusiastic than the one before. He was already growing tired of making your uncooperative brain work at least a bit, it was obvious.

Your gulped as the memory of last night popped in your head – staying in, quiet evening, in a mood for some dirty writing--- oh bless, another reminder of why this dinner was and should be really weird.

Steve read your smutty story. The one about him.

“Nothing special,” you squealed silently, earning a plain nod. “Eh, we went out with Penny, my roommate and best friend in one person. But mostly I just stayed in and--- caught up on sleeping.”

“I know what that’s like,” Steve hummed, clearly as grateful as you were when the waiter appeared by your table to take your orders.

Silence stretched as the man left, your hand beginning to fiddle with the neatly folded napkin on the table, lump growing in your throat due to your nerves.

“What about you? Anything… fun?” you asked reluctantly, noticing a brief smile passing Steve’s lips. Pretty, sinfully pretty lips. Perfect. Untouchable for mere mortals like you.

“Oh, not much. Few exam sittings, faculty meetings – we had one now, hence the suit-“

“You came here right from school?” you blurted out, startled – and clearly surprising him with your rudeness. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Yes, I did. We have a meeting every last Friday of the month.”

“Oh my god, you must be so tired,” you sympathized with him quietly, the uneasy feeling in your stomach only growing. He came here straight from work and for this? “Why didn’t you say something? We could have postponed or something.”

Steve swiftly shook his head, his warm hand landing on yours, gently stopping your restless fingers. This time, it was butterflies in your stomach erupting with life, the sweet comforting gesture warming your heart. He wanted to be here. He came here for you. He was interested in you.

And the feeling was mutual. So why was it being so weird then?

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m glad you reached out. I’m glad that you said yes in the first place,” he admitted, features softening despite the tension in his shoulders never leaving. His brows furrowed as he slowly withdrew his hand – it must have been an automatic reaction then. “I’m not that tired and… and maybe I was little worried that if I asked for a different date, then…”

He trailed off and your lips parted in surprise, your heart swelling in your chest at what he was implying.

Did he think you’d back out? Did he think that all the potential obstacles intimidated you too much? That you’d think it wasn’t worth it? That it wouldn’t work out anyway?

Seeing as you were now, you couldn’t blame him. Despite him being the world’s most charming man, here you were, being… not at all yourself, stressing for no reason.

It seemed to you that had had chemistry, back there in his office. This date made sense. When you imagined how this could unfold, well, it went a bit differently too. There was considerably less embarrassment going around.

This was why you preferred writing to speaking. That’s why you liked daydreaming. Because reality was often less than ideal, no script, awkward silences, misunderstandings…

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your food arrived.

You both thanked the waiter politely and you hoped that at least now you’d have a good excuse for the lack of normal conversation.

“What are you sorry for?”

You sighed and nibbled on your lower lip, not missing the way his gaze instinctively flickered there, pupils dilating just a fraction – but enough for you to notice. Your heart skipped a pleased beat – but the undeniable physical attraction couldn’t be enough.

“For this,” you said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. His features twisted in disappointment and something that looked a lot like regret flashed in his eyes. “I want to be here, Steve. I really do. I don’t know what’s wrong with me-“

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you,” he was quick to oppose and you couldn’t help it as a wry chuckle escaped you.

“Well, there’s certainly nothing wrong with you. And still, there’s this…”

“…tension?”

You wished.

“Sort of? But not the fun kind, for sure.”

He grimaced, but a spark of amusement lit up his blue irises. “Awkward air around us?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed victoriously as he voiced exactly what you were thinking. Then you quickly lowered your voice, looking around. Luckily, no one stared at you. You realized you leaned closer to him over the table, your heart racing at that, but you didn’t withdraw; it was a lovely opportunity to get even a better look at his perfect face. “But I don’t know why!” You knew why. “I like you, Steve-“

“I like you too. And I know I already said that, but you look stunning.”

Your cheeks burned again, but this time, you managed to stutter out a thank you at least. Stunning, Jesus, was he for real?

“T-thank you. You look incredibly handsome too. Then again you always do—why did I say that.”

One corner of his lips quirked up.

“Why thank you, I’m glad you did. The feeling’s mutual, believe me.”

“Then why does this feel like one of the most awkward dates I’ve ever been to?!” you whisper-yelled, causing him to chuckle, the tips of his ears turning red.

His hand once again landed on yours, this time deliberately, the gesture warming you in more than one way.

“Well… I’m nervous. You might be too.” You hummed in agreement. Was that all it was? “But the way you said it, at least it seems to me that it could have been worse, right? More awkward?”

You felt the corners of your lips rise at the remark, shrugging. He had a point there. And he squeezed your hand a bit and good Lord, it should not be making your heart race so much, but he was touching you and he was being really sweet and his fingers were nice and warm and long-

“Tell me.”

You blinked in surprise, realizing you had been staring at your joined hands. You raised your gaze, finding him watching you with a subtle smile.

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me about the most awkward date you have ever been to,” he clarified, his thumb caressing your wrist.

You only hesitated for a beat before you nodded in agreement, god knew why. Perhaps you did need a reminder that this could have gone much more disastrously and it was mostly your traitorous brain telling you that you were messing everything up.

Plus, Steve deserved whatever he wanted – so far, he was the only reason this date wasn’t as disastrous as it could be.

“Okay. You ever been to a speed dating event, Steve? Because I have.”

“Oh, this is ought to be good,” he noted with another squeeze to your hand, before he released you. Shame. He sipped at his wine and dug into his pasta. “I’m all ears.”

This is ought to be good, Steve said. Well, maybe. You certainly hadn’t thought so at the time.

Explaining to Steve that as you had been under duress from no other than Penny, you both went to the event which promised you meeting ten dashing men in only an hour. You’d get five minutes with each, as anonymous as you’d wished to be, receiving a folder with nothing but a table with the first names of the men and a yes and no option and a line for your own notes about them.

You weren’t sure what to think of it – but after three epically failed Tinder attempts, you agreed to try. If nothing else, you’d gain a new experience.

And an experience had it been. You even lasted a month with one of the guys, but you didn’t tell Steve that. It wasn’t important.

André was.

André Whatever-was-his-last-name – because that was how it worked, no last names – definitely believed he was important. With the guys moving around the tables from one woman to another, spending five minutes with each, you could already hear André closing to your station from two tables over.

He was hard to tune out, courtesy of the colour of his voice, extremely unpleasant to your ears, and him never letting the woman he faced talk. Always interrupting. Always turning the conversation around so it would be about him.

Asshole.

You liked to think you weren’t quick to judge people, but André was making you cringe before you were even introduced. And then you actually were.

A minute into his monologue to you, you felt like you were being tortured.

And then the waitress managed to stumble and spill a glass of white wine – partly over your table, but mostly on the floor. At least she caught the glass and you had but a tiny spot on your dress.

“She was apologizing so profusely and I wasn’t thinking, okay. I went for the napkins few tables over to help and— I didn’t realize I put the open folder down for everyone to see,” you explained, feeling like face-palming when you remembered the night.

Steve watched you in anticipation, a small smirk and a knowing look on his face as he guessed you had already circled ‘no’ for André at the time.

Oh, you wished it were that simple. You felt your cheeks burn hot as you continued.

“André read it, of course. Obviously, he already got a hard ‘no’ from me, but… I might have written a tiny note for myself as to why,” you admitted and Steve’s eyebrow rose minutely, his curiosity piqued even more.

You took a deep breath.

“I wasn’t exactly kind to him. It was something along the lines of self-important asshole who probably compensated for something.” Steve huffed in amusement. But oh, if he only knew... you sighed and continued. “And If Draco Malfoy and Gilderoy Lockhart had a love child, this would be him.”

No sound came from your companion this time and your teeth anxiously sank into our lower lip, your pulse wavering. What was Steve thinking? Did he think you had been rude? Mean even? Nerdy? All of the above?

He stared at you for full three seconds, clearly rendered speechless by your harsh judgement.

And then he burst out laughing.

Suffocating weight fell from your shoulders and you silently joined him as you explained yourself.

“I was in my Harry Potter phase! And in my defence, I think it was actually pretty accurate...”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, sweetheart,” Steve chuckled lightly before laughing some more, irises twinkling with amusement and something… softer.

You shuddered upon hearing the endearment spill unwittingly from his lips, upon seeing the emotion on his face.  And maybe you were a little proud of yourself for making him laugh and lose the tension in his shoulders completely.

“It was one of the longest and most awkward three minutes of my life, the silence that followed,” you huffed, massaging your forehead. “He did not appreciate the comparison.”

“I bet,” Steve cackled, taking another bite of his meal, smile playing in the corner of his lips as he swallowed and continued. “But you’ve got to give it to him, he knew his Harry Potter characters.”

���Ha! My thoughts exactly. But that’s a little bit of weak base for dating, I think, especially since I kinda already hated him.”

“Oh, you did? I didn’t catch that,” Steve joked lightly, causing you to smile despite the horrid memory.

And funnily enough, telling him and remembering it… it did make you feel better and more at ease with him.

“Ha ha ha, laugh it up, Professor. Your turn.”

“I’m sorry?” he said, clearly puzzled. It didn’t escape your notice as his voice faltered, his Adam’s apple bobbing at the addressing.

Oh, so that’ s still a thing. You couldn’t but smirk a bit at that.

“An awkward date. You have to share now, it’s only fair,” you shrugged, only for a terrible realization to dawn on you. “Please tell me there is at least one awkward date story, Steve. Tell me this isn’t really your worst date ever.”

He shook his head with a soft chuckle.

“Oh, there’s plenty. I’m just trying to think about one that won’t scare you away from me. I’d hate that.”

One corner of his lips raised, he looked you up and down, lingering on your lips for a bit before meeting your gaze, something you could only hope was fondness and wanton in his eyes. Your breath hitched, heat pooling in your abdomen at the thorough onceover despite the gentle tone of his voice.

Fuck how could he make you feel hot and soft at the same time.

Unable to stand the intensity of his stare, you lowered your gaze and gulped, your stomach making an excited slip. He did want you. You had been being silly, letting your nerves get the better of you.

Clearing your throat, you willed yourself to look up, finding him still watching closely – and perhaps, there was a hint of a red to his cheeks, the tip of his ears burning as if despite the blatant flirting, he was unsure of himself too, because he didn’t want to mess up with you either.

You found it absolutely endearing and your heart swelled. The way you got to see there was more to him than his professor side and his dashing looks… you felt incredibly lucky. The more you got to interact with him, the more it wasn’t just your sinful thoughts belonging to him – he was quickly working on stealing your heart as well.

Plucking up your courage, you were the one to reach out this time, carefully sweeping your thumb over the back of his hand, smiling.

“I’m not scared off all that easily, Steve.”

He mirrored your genuine smile, a glint of something you couldn’t read lighting up his eyes.

“That’s good to know,” he said lowly and sighed, narrowing his eyes as if he was assessing you again. “Alright, here goes…”

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You actually managed to get one more awkward date story from Steve, because frankly, his experiences were hilarious. And surprise surprise, he was a great narrator. Plus, while he talked, you could ogle him shamelessly without fear of looking strange.

But you guessed that since you were on a date, you could ogle him anyway. He didn’t seem to mind; in fact, whenever he got the opportunity, he reciprocated it. It finally did feel like a date, the air growing thicker as you gradually shifted closer and closer, the light touches prolonging, feet meeting under the table without parting as soon as they made contact.

Your belly kept warming up with each smile and laugh, with every second of the intense eye contact, with every flicker of his gaze to your lips and vice versa. Sharing a dessert was a terrible idea, because you wanted kiss the crumbs sticking on his lips away. You teased each other, you complimented each other – with Steve absolutely winning the undeclared contest – and you realized that despite sharing your most embarrassing dates with each other at the beginning, this was the absolute best you had ever been to.

And you didn’t want it to end.

The light sweater you had brought with you did nothing to shield you from the surprisingly lukewarm wind. As you wandered the streets, Steve finally heard out one of your first thoughts you had had when meeting him today – he shrugged off his suit jacket.

Which… yum. The seams of his shirt were crying for help and you could only think fo one way of helping them – taking his shirt off too. But alas, Steve didn’t continue the striptease, probably because you were on the street. Instead, he did the most wholesome thing and held out the jacket for you to slip into.

You only hesitated a moment, teeth sinking into your lower lip. How could you say no to that?

“That’s awfully cliché and really sweet at the same time,” you muttered, causing him to shrug, one corner of his lips raised in a smirk as he helped you put it on, forefinger most definitely deliberately caressing the side of your throat before withdrawing.

A shudder ran down your spine, electrifying feeling going straight to your core. The whiff of whatever cologne he was wearing enveloped you, clouding your senses. Goddammit he smelled so good.

“Maybe I just want to see you in my clothes,” he hummed, the suggestive remark knocking the breath straight out of your lungs.

Stepping to your side from behind your back, you caught a glimpse of his expression – a little bit smug, a little bit panicked as it probably registered with him just how much suggestive it was, perhaps crossing a line.

It was absolutely not crossing the line, because the thought of wearing his clothes, preferably grabbing it because you couldn’t find yours after you threw it all around the room as you frantically stripped each other was making your head spin in the best way.

“Maybe I’d really enjoy wearing your clothes after you rip off mine.”

Steve’s jaw went slack, a choked noise leaving him and you couldn’t but laugh at his dumbstruck expression. Surprise, professor, you little shit. I can keep up.

“That was… mean,” he said, clearing his throat. Your eyebrows rose, pot calling the kettle back style. “But I see how I deserved that.”

“Damn right… but that doesn’t mean it’s a lie,” you shrugged, chuckling at the exasperated look he shot you.

‘Man, she’s gonna fuck you up on a whole new level and I’ll be here for it in the front row with a bowl of popcorn,’ Barnes’ words to Steve which you weren’t meant to hear echoed in your head, making you grin.

The teasing was intense, yet you felt comfortable in it. You blamed Steve and his nature – he already felt like a guy to go lengths to make you feel at ease enough; the way he had kept insisting on you choosing whether this was a date or not only proved it. He made it easy to be yourself, making you feel like you could.

And he made it perfectly clear that he was enjoying seeing you like that, that he appreciated you as you were.

But the closer you got to the campus, the more the reality was settling in, your laughter fading, butterflies and heat replaced by anxiety. He was still a professor. If you went for it, it wouldn’t always be uncomplicated like this. The awkwardness crept in as your steps grew slower, the inevitable arriving.

He couldn’t walk you home, to walk you to the dorm, even if the desire to do so radiated from every fibre of his being. He couldn’t do that for the same reason he hadn’t picked you up.

You came to a stop, feeling like there was this invisible border to a safe, students-free part of the city, the line you couldn’t cross side by side.

“So, uhm… this is it, huh?” Steve hummed, grim. You appreciated the lame attempt at a smile though and reciprocated, turning to face him.

“Looks like it.”

Heavy silence settled over you pair. Your eyes trailed all over him, lingering on his face, noting as he did the same. He was beautiful; you didn’t care you should say that about a man. He was. The light in his eyes dimmed compared to that just a few moments ago, but it was still there, expression soft, almost as soft as his beard looked, causing your fingers to twitch in need to run them over it and pull him in for a kiss.

Your lips tingled as the idea. You had never kissed a man with a beard and you wanted to know how it felt. The fact it was Steve only sealed the deal and made the need grow exponentially.

You wanted to kiss him so bad. But here you stood, unable to move, unable to speak. You sighed.

“Would you-“ “I want to-“

“Sorry,” you and him said at the same time again, laughing it off quietly, your fingers running through your hair.

Your stomach clenched when you noticed his eyes following the movement almost wistfully.

“You go first,” he prompted you gently.

You didn’t argue – if you learned one thing tonight, it was that Steve was a gentleman and that was so rare these days that you wouldn’t want to discourage him from being that way. Even if you really wanted to know what he was about to say, as soon as possible.

“I… I just want to say thank you. For the… for the date. I had a good time, so I hope you had too, at least a little,” you offered lamely, feeling blood rushing to your cheeks.

Like a schoolgirl blushing in front of her professor. Jesus, why were you being like this again.

Steve didn’t seem to find you as awkward as you felt however, your name slipping from his lips, kind and soft.

“I had a very good time. You’re amazing.” Your lips parted at the blatant and genuine compliment. His eyes went wide. “I’m sorry, that came out so strong, I didn’t mean to put you in spot like that-“

Stronger than ‘maybe I just want to see you in my clothes?’ you asked yourself. No, you didn’t think so. It was just that the playfulness had left at least two blocks back.

This felt more serious. More intimate.

“Ditto,” you whispered, gracing him with a shy smile he instantly mirrored. “But hey, I already knew that, so…”

He chuckled, shaking his head lightly, his smile only growing. When he looked at you again, his eyes were the beautiful warm blue that made you weak in the knees.

“Would you like to do something like that again?” he queried lowly.

Yes. YES. YES PLEASE. Minus the awkwardness at the beginning and the one a moment ago, preferably.  

“Yeah. I’d like that,” you agreed simply, taking note of how his face lit up even more.

How could a man be so indescribably hot and yet adorable enough to tug at your heartstrings?

“Good. I’m glad.”

He tugged at your hand unexpectedly, pulling you to your left, his other hand steadying you by gently grasping your forearm.

Before you could question his actions, a pair of men swaying in a drunken haze passed you, having no care in the world for whom they might crash into.

“Thanks,” blurted out lowly, sparing a second to shoot their backs a dirty glare.

But Steve’s hands were still on you, distracting, as you stood face to face, chest to chest, a little too close, a little too far. Your heart sped up in your ribcage, breathing picking up in anticipation. So close…

But all Steve did was to squeeze your forearm reassuringly, lifting your joined hands to his face.

Just like the day you agreed to get coffee with him, he kissed your knuckles, only this time it was much firmer. His smile was sweet and utterly irresistible as he kept looking at your face and you felt all the worries about the future melt away once again.

He was so precious and this felt so right and--- you didn’t want him to kiss your hand.

Well, you wanted it, but you wanted more too.

You had been aching to kiss that mouth since you had first set eyes on him, on that inhumanly gorgeous and hot creature. You were on a date, you both had a great time and clearly he was giving you the opportunity to decide how far you wanted to take this, because as much as every little touch of his made to crazy, the displays of affection were positively chaste.

And you wanted to take it very very far.

Your rational brain wouldn’t let you just hop into sac with him today, but fuck, you could do with a kiss. You wanted to feel that perfectly trimmed beard of his and you wanted to taste him.

Did he?

You stepped even closer as he let go of your hand, distracting you minutely; due to the sudden proximity, it landed on his chest and Jesus fucking Christ he was firm.

Your fingers clutched at the white fabric of his shirt as you observed his face, your gaze inevitably flickering to his lips. Glancing up once more to find him still watching you intently, pupils dilated, your breath caught in your throat, heat stirring in your belly.

Rising to your tiptoes, you gripped the fabric tighter and shortly pressed your lips to his.

It was a funny feeling – lips hot, soft and slightly chapped, a stark contrast to the beard, less rough than you expected, leaving a tingly sensation behind. It was different; exciting and addicting. Before he could react and before you could think twice, you kissed him again, this time lingering for a few seconds, your eyelids falling shut.

Your heart fluttered when you felt his lips reluctantly respond just as you withdrew, his grip on your arm tightening. You ran your tongue over your lips to savour the feeling, mouth instinctively curling up in a smile, gaze meeting his.

Little wrinkles appeared around his eyes as he smiled as well.

“You okay?”

You nodded, almost too eagerly, lowering back to your whole feet. Involuntarily, your gaze flickered to his mouth again, wanting more.

“Uhm… beard,” you piped up unhelpfully, pressing your lips together as soon as the admission left them.

Steve’s smile widened as he once again grasped your hand, leading it to cup his face – not before he dropped a kiss to your palm.

You almost let out a very embarrassing whine at the curious sensation, your mind, still enveloped in Steve’s warmth and cologne, wondering how the beard would feel elsewhere.

Your fingers unwittingly caressed the hair, thumb brushing his lips, unable to resist.

His Adam’s apple bobbed, lips parting, hot breath fanning over your skin as watched you.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed out and that was it – you pressed against the soft swollen flesh at the pet name, causing a low grumble echo in Steve’s chest.

And then his hand slid to your waist, the other sinking into your hair, and he pulled up into a kiss that had nothing to do with how patient he had been before. He was still a gentleman, but it was a close call – he angled your head to his liking, his lips dancing with yours in a sensual dance with just a tease of tongue licking at the seam of your lips, causing you to sigh in bliss, granting him access.

He hummed appreciatively, the sound shaking your bones as he held you flat against him, the heat of his body seeping into yours – as if every nerve ending in your body wasn’t on fire already. He breathed you in, consumed you entirely – there were no other words for it.

There weren’t many words you could think of to begin with, too busy feeling his broad shoulders under your palm, fingers roaming to find the soft hair at his nape, revelling at the taste of him, just a smidge of tongue and you wanted more, your insides twisting in need--- and oh, your back was pressed against a wall now.

You let out a small startled sound which Steve instantly swallowed – but it was a good wake up call for you both. The motions of his lips slowed, softened, a gentle caress more than anything, his thumb stroking your cheek.

Breathless, you chased after his mouth when he retreated, earning one small peck and then another. He rested his forehead against yours, nose briefly skimming yours, causing you to smile and meet his gaze.

“Sorry,” he muttered and you genuinely wanted to slap his arm or something for apologizing for that. Because you knew what you’d be thinking about for the next few hours, days even, hell, probably weeks. “For springing out like that. I just… wanted to do that for a long time.”

The admission had your heart skip a beat and you couldn’t but lean in to kiss the corner of his mouth – and nope, you weren’t over how it felt, his beard against your lips. You wouldn’t be over it for a long time, you suspected.

“Me too.”

“So… we’re doing this again, right?“

You smirked up at him as he reluctantly released you. “You springing out like that or-“

“Don’t test me, babygirl,” he nearly growled, causing your eyes going wide as saucers, feeling as if you were sucker punched to your gut – and liked it.

Babygirl. Jesus, he was going to be the death of you.

“You can spring out like that again too,” you chimed, your voice sounding a bit strangled, because holy shit he just called you that. His gaze flickered all over your face, a shade darker than before. Your underwear was thoroughly ruined with that single look… and the earlier make-out session. “But if we’re talking second dates, I’d definitely do that too.”

He huffed and shook his head, a chuckle escaping him.

“You’re a minx…. I think I like it.”

You grinned at him and then sighed regretfully, reaching to slip off the jacket, which made him frown.

“You could give it back later.”

“Don’t tempt me… don’t want to rob you of it--- and there would be questions,” you explained, knowing that even walking around the campus like what would raise rumours of god knew what.

Like, maybe someone would think some gentleman like Professor Steve Rogers himself lent it to you or something, gee, where would that come from...

Steve nodded in understanding, accepting the jacket and shrugging it on.

“Plus, I’m thoroughly warmed up,” you added cheekily, causing him to chuckle incredulously again. With a sigh, he leaned in, cradling your jaw in one large hand and pressed a sweet lingering kiss to your forehead.

You could melt on spot.

“Goodnight, sweetheart. Let me know when you get home safe?” he asked of you gently, tugging at your heartstrings some more, because of course he did.

“I will. You too?”

His smile was soft and sweet as he promised to do so, clearly touched by your care. Well, that made two of you.

“Goodnight, Steve. Thank you for tonight.”

“Thank you.”

You breathed in deeply, dropping a last kiss to his cheek and quickly spun on your heels to walk away – because if you wavered a second longer, you might have not left at all.

Sure, you looked back at him several times, finding him standing where you had left him, his eyes following your receding figure. But you kept walking.

And once you couldn’t see him anymore, you broke into a fit of giggles, hiding your face in your palms to muffle your delighted squeal.

You were just coming back to the dorms from the date with Steve Rogers.

And despite the hiccups, it was the best damn thing in the world, leaving you giddy and already craving another date and more. Your cheeks hurt from smiling by the time you made it to the dorms, your heart pounding excitedly the whole time.

As promised, you let Steve know you made there safe, earning another text with a heart. It only made you squeal again, fingers frantic as you replied – and with a kiss for goodnight so he knew you truly enjoyed your night, ending included.

What he didn’t know was that maybe, just maybe, the next evening you wrote a tiny story in which you elaborated at what could happen if he ever pushed you against a wall and kissed your breathless ever again.

And hopefully, he would.

Soon.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Attached masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

...how it happened? I was asked about the first date, very kindly and in a no pressure manner.

S: Hey, just out of curiosity, you don’t really have to answer… how do you imagine their first date went?

me: Hm, let me think, I guess, mm, it would be like this--- oh shit. Oh no. It’s gonna be a fic again, isn’t it? Maybe I could finally write a headcanon or a drabble--- sigh.

As if I could ever.

Thank you for reading :-*

[authenticcadence18]

“Ice Cream and Dances Pt. 2: Electric Boogaloo” Ch. 2

…

HELLO I AM POSTING A FIC UPDATE!!!!!!!! :DD

(Also a disclaimer! This fic uses the phrase “more than friends” a lot, and I wrote the first chapter before I realized that phrase can imply that friendships are lesser than romantic relationships. I want to make it clear that I do not see romantic relationships as inherently more valuable than friendships. Friendship is equally as important!!!! In the context of Phineas and Isabella, starting a romantic relationship would literally be them becoming “more than friends” because they would then be romantic partners AND friends. So, when I use that phrase in this fic moving forward, this is the meaning I’m choosing to interpret it as!)

…

“Ice Cream and Dances” by FrsdGirl

AO3

Previous Chapter

…

Isabella did her best to focus on inhaling and exhaling as Phineas led her back onto the dance floor.

“THIS IS A FRIEND THING.”

Once they found an empty spot, Phineas let go of Isabella’s hand and turned to face her, eyes wide and face flushed and GOODNESS HE LOOKED CUTE—

“HYPOTHETICAL. PLATONIC.”

Somehow, Isabella’s hands found their way to Phineas’s shoulders, though she wasn’t consciously aware of it until she felt him gently place his hands on her waist and oh goodness, friend thing or not, Phineas still wanted to dance with her and be close to her even though they’d already danced earlier aND—

“NO. STOP IT. KEEP IT TOGETHER, GARCIA-SHAPIRO.”

For about half a minute, they swayed platonically (or, well, somewhat platonically), neither saying a word.

Isabella just kept on focusing on breathing, on making sure she didn’t lean too close to Phineas, on keeping the desire to admit she’d actually love to be here with him on a real date at bay.

(She couldn’t have known Phineas was focusing on very similar things.)

Sure, she’d been nervous when they danced like this earlier. But those nerves were nothing compared to the nerves she was experiencing now because NOW, she had much more to worry about.

This was still strictly a friend thing, but it was also now a hypothetical more-than-friends-who-were-on-a-date thing. Except it WASN’T actually hypothetical in Isabella’s case, and she couldn’t help but hope that it might be more than hypothetical for Phineas as well but NO, she couldn’t give in to that hope, that was dangerous, so she needed to maintain a good balance between honesty and nonchalance about all this but that was difficult to do when he was so close and holding her and good grief , why’d she ever taken Buford up on his dare, and—

“Isabella? Are you okay?”

Isabella started and blinked, clearing her head of myriad worries with a shake to find Phineas staring at her with concern in his eyes.

“You kinda spaced out there for a second…” he continued. “And you looked a little worried. Is something wrong? Would you rather do something else?”

“NO!!!!!” Isabella shot back. A few nearby couples darted their heads in their direction, and she winced (the LAST thing she wanted to do was draw more attention to her and Phineas after their “grand entrance”).

“I...I just mean… I’m fine. Really.” She did her best to muster a smile for Phineas’s sake. “Just got lost in thought for a bit, you know?”

Phineas grinned, seemingly relieved to know that she was okay (though that could’ve just been Isabella reading into things). “Been there, done that!” he said.

Isabella chuckled a little, the image of Phineas hunched over his phone flickering in her memory. “I bet! You looked pretty lost in thought while Buford and I were dancing earlier. Who were you texting? Or were you testing out a new app?”

She felt a little more at ease now that she was talking with Phineas (as opposed to drowning in her own thoughts.)

“Huh??” Phineas blinked and bit his lip, shoulders briefly tensing up beneath Isabella’s hands. “...UH, I was just...texting Candace!”

“Really? It must have been an intense conversation, you looked so focused. Did she ask you for advice on a case assignment or something?”

“Oh, no, it wasn’t that… I just….uh” Phineas stared at her for a second and then up at the sky before continuing, “...I talk with her a lot these days. She’s got good advice.”

Isabella smiled and nodded in agreement in response.

(Perhaps she was a little curious to know what exactly Phineas had been discussing with Candace. But she knew he’d tell her if he wanted to, and she didn’t want to press him in case he didn’t.)

In the meantime, she could change the subject.

“So...have you been brainstorming any new projects lately?” she asked. “Other than the Stargazer 3000 of course, though if you want to talk about that I’m all ears!”

Phineas’s eyes practically ignited with excitement, making something flutter and glow in Isabella’s chest.

“Yeah!!!” he exclaimed. “Yesterday Ferb and I started experimenting with levitating carpets, like we did when we were kids! We want to see if we can replicate the effects over a smaller surface. But the technology isn’t quite ready yet…..”

…

“And THAT’S how we plan to modify our pre-existing anti-gravity quantum state lift disk technology to function effectively over a smaller surface area!! We’re planning on finishing up a prototype tomorrow and using it for a project.”

“Cool!! Can I come over and help out?”

“Of course! You never have to ask to come over, Isabella. I’ll—er, we’ll always be glad to have you around.”

“Thanks!”

Sometimes, it was easy to take living across the street from Phineas for granted. Because of that, Isabella was used to his boundless creativity and ideas, used to his uncanny ability to make the impossible possible...but she never wanted to lose sight of how extraordinary just being able to be used to those things was.

Moments like this reminded her that Phineas was brilliant .

And handsome.

….brilliantly handsome.

She cracked a smile at that last thought.

Phineas, fortunately, didn’t ask why she was smiling. He just smiled back...and then tilted his head, his expression morphing from fond to thoughtful.

“.....I just realized something,” he said. “We danced earlier.”

Isabella nodded, unsure where he was going with this.

“I guess, I just realized…. This—you know, us , dancing together—it doesn’t feel much different from how it felt before, when we were dancing but like...strictly as friends. ….uH! Not that we aren’t dancing strictly as friends right now! But...the hypothetical more-than-friends thing you were wondering about...you’d think it would make things feel more different….but if it’s us, it doesn’t. Not really.”

A blush sprawled across Isabella’s face. She’d been so wrapped up in listening to Phineas’s ideas, she’d almost forgotten about the hypothetical more-than-friends thing.

But Phineas apparently hadn’t forgotten.

“Uh—is that still a thing we’re doing?” he asked. “Pretending this is, like…a date? Or thinking about what it would be like if it were? Because I thought we were, but maybe I misunderstood, and if so that’s my bad—”

“No, you didn’t misunderstand!!!” Isabella replied quickly. “And, we can keep pretending this is a date. If you want.”

Phineas exhaled with a smile. “Cool!”

“Yup! Cool!” Isabella agreed.

Whew.

“And, you’re right,” she continued. “It doesn’t feel much different from how it did before...but it feels right. Talking with you feels better than just dancing in silence and staring at each other. I guess other couples might do that, but not us.”

“Yeah!!” Phineas let out a gentle chuckle. “I guess this means, if we were a couple, we wouldn’t act much differently from how we do now.”

“That’s what happens when you fall for your best friend, huh?” Isabella gave Phineas a knowing grin (she was basically a world-renowned expert on this subject). “Since there’s already a great foundation of friendship in place, romantic feelings can just develop naturally from what’s already there.”

….wait a second.

“….uH!!!” she choked, jerking back and clutching her hands to her chest on instinct. “Not that I’d know that personally!! Just, uh! In movies and stuff! That’s how it always goes. Yup. And we’re best friends, so! In this hypothetical scenario, we’d be best friends who fell for each other. Hypothetically.”

“Okaaayyyy time to divert the subject, Garcia-Shapiro.”

“People in movies have it easy….” she continued, trying her best to sound light and casual. “They meet and then, less than two hours later, BOOM! They’re together, true love for life!! Or...at least, they’re together until a sequel comes out and they’ve broken up offscreen just to get back together again….”

(The older Isabella got, the less patience she had for subpar romance movies and subplots.)

“Yeah….it’s a lot harder in real life...” Phineas agreed quietly. “Though, we’d be remiss if we didn’t talk about how it is hard for couples in TV shows. Like, Candace used to watch this show where the two main characters were in love but they didn’t realize it, and they kept on ALMOST confessing or getting together but didn’t actually get together until the very end. She’d get so frustrated with them, called them the ‘token will they/won’t they couple.’ There were a few steady side-couples though, Candace always used to say they made watching the show a little easier.”

He leaned in, a conspiratorial twinkle in his eye, and whispered, “She always used to compare herself and Jeremy to the main couple, but between you and me, the two of them are definitely more the ‘steady side-couple’ type.”

Isabella snickered. “ Oh yeah. They had it easy! They liked each other from the beginning, went on dates, started officially dating and then just...stayed that way.”

“If only it were always that simple….” Phineas sighed.

“If Candace and Jeremy are a steady side couple, what would that make us?” Isabella asked.

She flinched and quickly added, “uH!!! In a hypothetical sense!!!!”

Phineas blinked. “UM!!! That’s a great question!!!”

...was he blushing? Or was it a trick of the light?

“I guess, uh….we’d be the token ‘will they/won’t they’ couple?”

he rubbed the back of his neck and chucked slightly. “I mean, uh...in your hypothetical scenario, I’m not sure if we’d already be together or if this would be our first time doing something together. Together -together, I mean. On a date, you know. But, uh…….. Okay, let’s say I had feelings for you. Hypothetically. I’d have no reason to believe you returned those feelings.”

Isabella bit her lip and resisted the urge to roll her eyes into the nearest adjacent galaxy.

That was Phineas, alright. Oblivious as always.

“...BUT!!” he continued, “if you returned them without knowing about MY feelings, that would be a classic ‘will they/won’t they’ scenario. At least, according to Candace, anyway….yup….”

He suddenly seemed quite interested in staring at the grass beneath their feet.

Isabella followed his gaze and studied the ground for a bit, both to avoid pondering their hypothetical couple status any longer AND because, if Phineas was staring at the grass, it likely meant something interesting was happening down there.

...except nothing interesting was happening.

“.....okay, there’s no way the grass is interesting enough to warrant us staring at it for this long,” she mused. “You didn’t get hit with a dull and boring ray, did you?”

(She was mostly joking, but one could never be too careful in Danville.)

Phineas glanced back up at her and just stared at a moment before cracking a smile.

“Funny you should mention that….i was JUST thinking about the color beige….”

A moment passed.

And then he started to giggle. Quietly at first…and then not so quietly. His amusement was contagious, and soon Isabella was caught up in it too, the two of them grinning and laughing and as carefree as could be, all the awkwardness momentarily gone.

(The ruckus garnered some more stares, as the music playing was still pretty soft….but Isabella didn’t really care about that anymore. Having fun with Phineas was way more important than worrying about what others thought.)

Gradually, their laughter died down, with Phineas giving one final giggle and wiping a tear from his cheek before placing his hand back on Isabella’s waist, eyes shining with mirth.

Isabella gazed at him with a beaming smile.

There was just something about Phineas’s laughter, something about the way he smiled so brightly and expressed such genuine positivity so effortlessly, that had fascinated her and made her head spin since they were kids....and right now, it was hard to feel scared of expressing her true feelings for him.

(In other words, she was sooo in love with him right now.)

“You know….” she whispered with a flirtatious grin, “...if WE were dating—uh, on a date, within the parameters of the hypothetical more-than-friends thing!!!”

Good save, Garcia-Shapiro.

“...I’d have told you how handsome you look by now.”

“Huh?” Phineas blinked and glanced down at his outfit. “...Oh! Thanks! ...but, I’m not really dressed for a date….I wear this shirt at least once a week, and I haven't brushed my hair since this morning.”

“Aw, Phineas, you ALWAYS look handsome,” Isabella assured him. “No matter what. I mean, between the red hair and all your freckles and your acute nose and your SMILE, I’m not sure how anyone could NOT see how handsome you are…. And it’s not just your looks either, it’s your laugh and the way you can light up anyone and anything around you just by being you, it all makes you handsome, and……”

A bit of the happy fog in Isabella’s brain evaporated, allowing her to realize she’d been rambling to Phineas about how handsome he was for the past 20 seconds.

Oops.

“uH!!!! That is! That’s what I would say if this wasn’t a friend thing! But it is! So! Uh. You can just forget I said all that, if you want….”

She winced and clenched her eyes shut. That had been too much, she’d totally taken things too far, and now Phineas would probably be super weirded out...

Except.

One glance at Phineas revealed he wasn’t weirded out at all. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes soft, mouth slightly agape with what might have been astonishment.

He looked flustered, but in a good way.

And then...he smiled again. He smiled at her.

And it was a warm smile, a gentle smile, perhaps the most adoration-filled smile Isabella had ever seen and it was directed at her and doing funny things to her heart.

“Well….” he whispered softly, “...if this weren’t a friend thing, I’d have already told you you look as beautiful as ever…. But, since this is a friend thing and I haven’t told you yet….I’ll just tell you now. Isabella, you look as beautiful as ever.”

He grinned before continuing on in a manner similar to how Isabella had spoken a bit ago.

“I mean, between your eyes, and your hair, and the way your entire face seems to light up when you smile, and your adorable laughter, and the way you’re brave enough to say whatever’s on your mind…..I don’t think anyone else is as beautiful as you, Isabella. In every sense of the word.”

Isabella’s heart was going to pound right out of her chest. Or perhaps her knees would give out and she’d collapse right here, sprawled across the grass, running Phineas’s words and tender looks over and over again in her head for the foreseeable future.

It wouldn’t be a bad way to spend the rest of the evening.

But Phineas wasn’t done yet. He drew a hand back and then reached out for Isabella’s face...only to flinch and freeze in place.

“...uH!!” he breathed, hand still suspended in mid-air. “....if this were a date, I think I’d unconsciously reach out to brush a lock of hair behind your ear after saying all those things, just to see you better! ...would you be alright with that?”

Isabella didn’t trust herself to piece a coherent sentence together at the moment, but she knew she’d definitely be alright with that, so she nodded her head.

Phineas inhaled and tentatively reached out until his fingers were gracing Isabella’s cheek and then ever-so-gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

And once again, Isabella did her best to focus on inhaling and exhaling, on staying present in the moment…but this time, she wasn’t constantly reminding herself this was just pretend.

Because….what if it wasn’t?

Phineas was one of the most authentic people Isabella knew. Authentic to a fault, almost.

And that trademark authenticity, which she’d come to recognize in all of his inventions and actions and words in the years they’d been friends…..she recognized it now. In the hand cradling her face and the eyes gazing at her softly and the tender smile that hovered a mere foot or two from her own.

…perhaps Phineas had tried to ask her here on a date earlier.

Perhaps Buford had been right.

…

Thanks for reading!! And thanks as always to the lovely FrsdGirl for inspiring this fic and allowing me to write it and also for being just, the best ever, I adore you my friend🥺💕.

This isn’t the end btw, I know how this is gonna end, just haven’t written it properly yet!

[little-mad]

Downsides of Thievery Pt. 4

~ Previous Part ~ Next Part ~

After the scolding he issued, Rael felt fairly confident that he would be hearing no more disturbances from his human prisoner. Despite Gavin Stone seeming to have gained a bit of confidence recently, Rael still remembered the way he had trembled and squirmed in his hand. Surely that fear would be easily re-instilled by Rael’s sharp warning.

Unfortunately, Rael’s prediction proved incorrect, an occurrence that was quite unusual and quite hated. “Hey, how are you speaking our language?” Rael’s jaw tightened as he heard the human’s words. When he glanced down he could see the man looking up expectantly through the bars of the cage.

The answer to the human’s question was relatively simple. Rael, along with everyone that worked in or around the palace, had been required to learn several human languages. The idea was that if a human visitor ever somehow got lost in the palace, any staff member they may stumble across would be able to assist them.

The process of studying languages was made much easier by imbibing potions that aided in quick learning, which explained how Rael had managed to become fluent in four human languages in a matter of weeks. Not that he really wanted the ability to communicate with humans. Perhaps his prisoner wouldn’t be pestering him so much if they couldn’t understand one another.

Now Rael needed to decide whether to answer Gavin Stone’s question or ignore it. Obviously, he didn’t know the human well enough to know which option would be most effective in getting him to shut up.

He sighed, deciding to go with a third option. “That is not crucial and therefore does not warrant a response,” Rael said in the most formal and rigid tone he could manage. He would behave as unapproachable and unfriendly as possible to deter any future interaction from the human.

“Come on, it’s boring just sitting in this cage,” the human complained, sounding far more like a child than the adult he was meant to be.

A mischievous thought popped into Rael’s mind. Ordinarily, he would ignore these kinds of thoughts while he was working. Rael was never one to fool around on the job. However, there were no alteons around, meaning there was no one to judge him or get him into any kind of trouble. The only witness was the human prisoner, who had no voice among alteon society.

After coming to an abrupt stop, Rael reached down towards his hips and unattached the small cage from his belt. “Hey, what are you--” The human’s words were cut off and replaced with a startled yelp as Rael swiftly pulled the cage, along with its occupant, up into the air.

Rael held the cage mere inches from his own face. The proximity was so close that he could see the miniscule details of Gavin Stone’s face, like the fact that the man had a little freckle near his jaw.

“If you would like some excitement, I could always remove you from your cage and carry you in my hands instead,” Rael offered smoothly, a sly smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Although, I can’t guarantee I’ll be particularly gentle. People always say I have a firm grip.”

The way the human’s hazel eyes went wide as he sat sprawled out in the middle of the cage brought Rael a sense of satisfaction. The little man’s recent actions had proven him to be nothing but trouble, if the fact that he stole from a diplomat wasn’t evidence enough. Rael was more than happy to set the human straight.

-

For the second time in a day, Gavin found himself being held directly in front of an alteon’s face. And man, did he not like it. Being so comparatively small, trapped in the gaze of such a massive person--it was unbelievably intimidating. It made him feel like he was a specimen under a microscope or something.

The fact that Gavin had iron bars separating him from his captor didn’t really make him feel any safer, especially considering the threat Rael had just made. The alteon’s words had sent an icy chill down his spine, and the smirk on the giant face hovering in front of him did not help him feel any better.

It was startling how Rael had gone from irritated, but mostly indifferent, to intentionally intimidating. Gavin had had the guy pegged for a tight laced no nonsense type, but apparently he had a roguish side to him. Were Gavin’s heart not hammering wildly from adrenaline and fear, he might have been able to appreciate the fact that the alteon had a hidden, less boring side to him.

“Uh--that’s not really what I had in mind,” Gavin awkwardly responded as he clambered up to his feet. “I kind of just wanted to talk…” he trailed off with an uncomfortable laugh. It was nigh on impossible to maintain any composure while a jumbo elf guy stared at you so intensely.

Rael lifted a single dark eyebrow. “Oh? But I’m quite certain you wouldn’t be so bored if I carried you in my hands.” A shiver ran across Gavin’s skin at the memory of being trapped in the giant’s hand. As much as he didn’t like to be stuck in the cage, he’d choose that over a fist anyday. At least the iron bars of the cage couldn’t spontaneously contract around him and squeeze his poor, fragile body--or at least, he hoped they couldn’t.

“No, that’s okay. I...I’ll stay here,” Gavin replied.

A smug look took form on Rael’s face. “Very well then. There should be no need for further interruptions then,” he stated.

With no warning, the hand holding the cage moved down towards Rael’s belt. Of course, Gavin was once again thrown to the floor. “Would it kill him to at least give me a little heads up?” he griped internally.

In a matter of moments, Gavin’s cage was reattached to his captor’s belt and they were on their way again. Gavin resumed his previous “withstand the giant leg bumping into you” position and, for the moment, he remained silent.

It wasn’t as though Gavin was planning on doing what Rael wanted. The giant man may have essentially threatened him and effectively scared the shit out of him, but that didn’t mean he was ready to fold. Now that he knew Rael had this whole other side to him, it made Gavin want to push him even more.

And while there was no doubt that Rael could easily crush him if he wanted to, Gavin had a feeling that doing so would get him in big trouble with his boss. Of course, the alteon could always make Gavin’s trip to the palace more uncomfortable, as he had threatened. However, that was something Gavin was willing to risk if it meant he could satisfy his inexplicable need to disobey orders.

Gavin granted the alteon a couple minutes of quiet, almost as if to lull him into a false sense of security. During this downtime, Gavin pondered what exactly he should say next. As he was thinking, he noticed his bladder beginning to complain. He was suddenly keenly aware of the fact that he hadn’t gone to the bathroom since the morning. Honestly it was a miracle he hadn’t wet himself from fear yet.

“Hey, Rael? How much longer till we get there?” Gavin asked. He looked upward to carefully watch for the alteon’s reaction.

Even from the awkward angle Gavin was looking from, he could tell that Rael’s nostrils flared, and his lips pressed into a thin, angry line. Unsurprisingly, he appeared to be displeased with Gavin’s outburst.

“Unfortunately, we still have around half an hour left,” Rael said through clenched teeth.

“That’s too loooong,” Gavin’s mind whined. There was no way he was going to make it that long without his bladder exploding. Plus, who even knew if there would be somewhere he could go to the bathroom at the palace. “Do they even have indoor plumbing here???”

“Uh--do you think we could maybe take a little pit stop?” Gavin asked hopefully. Honestly, he wasn’t even purposefully trying to be annoying this time. He was just genuinely in need of a bathroom break.

“‘Pit stop’?” Rael inquired. Apparently his fluency in English didn’t cover all of the little phrases.

“Allow me to rephrase,” Gavin said. “Can we stop so I can go pee in a bush?” Being so blunt about the subject felt strange when talking to the likes of Rael. The guy spoke so formally that Gavin had to wonder whether he’d wound his sensibilities with this kind of talk.

Sure enough, Rael’s eyes widened slightly at Gavin’s request. The fact that he was taken aback by something Gavin had done was more than a little satisfying. Ruffling those carefully arranged metaphorical feathers of his always counted as a win to Gavin.

After recovering from the initial surprise, Rael’s expression returned to its usual annoyed glower. “Can you not hold it?” he questioned, a tightness in his voice.

Gavin shook his head, though after remembering Rael probably wouldn’t catch the movement, he said, “Not likely.” The constant bouncing movement of his cage would make it all the more difficult to keep his bladder under control.

A long, growly sigh sounded from above. Gavin looked up to see Rael wearing a dark scowl on his face. “Fine,” the alteon relented as his walking came to an abrupt stop.

For once, Gavin was actually prepared for the massive movements of his giant captor. He clung tightly onto the iron bars as Rael unhooked the cage from his belt and carried it into the air.

A flurry of disorienting motion later and Rael was sitting on a log with Gavin’s cage resting on one of his legs. As Gavin looked up at the alteon, he couldn’t help but notice he was basically in the giant man’s lap. “Oh god, it’s like I’m his little pet,” Gavin’s brain moaned as his face began to heat up slightly.

Seemingly oblivious to Gavin’s embarrassment, Rael looked down on his captive sternly. “I will let you out of this cage and you can...do your business,” the alteon stated, a bit of awkwardness tinging his voice at the end of the sentence. He cleared his throat, as if to regain his composure, and continued. “If you make any attempt to flee, I can assure you that recapturing you will be nearly effortless.” Yeah, he’d proven that when Gavin had tried to run from him on the roof.

Pushing down the intimidation, Gavin waved a dismissive hand. “Yeah, yeah, I got it.” As if running away would do him any good at this point. He had nowhere to go in this dimension. And as much of a hardass as Rael was, he’d much rather take his chances with him than risk an encounter with some random alteon.

Rael narrowed his eyes as he scrutinized Gavin for a moment. Then, after he was apparently satisfied, he took a hold of the cage and relocated it to the ground in front of his feet.

Gavin watched as Rael’s large fingers easily managed the latch on the cage that no human would ever be able to handle. As soon as the door was unlocked, Rael pulled away and sat back up straight.

Tentatively, Gavin approached the now open cage door. Ever since arriving in the alteon dimension, he had been enclosed in his little prison. It had almost become like a little safety bubble. A shitty, no fun safety bubble, but still a safety bubble.

A part of Gavin didn’t want to leave the cage, as crazy as that seemed. Being completely exposed to the giant world of the alteon dimension was...freaky as hell. “What if a bird grabs me? Or a stiff wind just blows me away?” Gavin’s mind was racing through potential hazards he could face. But then he felt his bladder clench as the need to relieve himself grew ever more urgent.

When nature called, you had to pick up. And so, Gavin walked forward and took his first steps onto alteon soil.

[hookingminor]

three lessons - mat barzal

a/n: new series idea I just had, spoiler there is filth and the next parts will be as well also im not the best at writing smut so you’ll have to bear with me here. anyway! let me know what you think! comments/thoughts are always appreciated! also, I know it briefly mentions being the younger sister of a teammate, but I know nothing about the isles so its literally just for plot purposes don’t expect much from that and this isn’t proofread sorry

word count: 4.2k

summary: you’re tired of being a virgin, so you hit up Mat to help you with your problem and strike a deal

warnings (18+): loss of virginity, smut

PART TWO

-

This was by far the worst idea you’ve ever had.

In your twenty-one years of life, you’ve never had a worse idea. Your initial plan was crazy in and of itself, but adding Mat to the mix? It’s like you were asking to get your ass kicked.

The original thought came to you a year ago when you were sitting on the couch of your friend’s apartment, four glasses of wine into the night. She was complaining about her latest hookup, raging over the fact that he didn’t know where the clit was.

This is how it usually went between you two.

She was the one who got all the guys, the one who could pick up anyone from the bar and spend the night in a stranger’s bed without a second thought. You, however, were the wingwoman, the person who was left behind when your friend eventually decided to leave with a man.

It didn’t bother you that much. It’s not like you felt like you needed a boyfriend, you were secure in almost all aspects of your life, but the nagging thought in the back of your mind kept saying that you needed to get fucked. And soon.

Maybe it was the alcohol coursing through your bloodstream or the fact that you hadn’t masturbated in nearly two weeks, but you rolled your eyes at your friend before you finally snapped.

“At least you’ve had someone to fuck the past few months! Be grateful you’re not me and still a virgin at twenty!” You shouted, fed up with hearing stories about how your friend’s sex life was so terrible. At least she had a sex life to begin with.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry,” you apologized quickly, bringing your hand to cover your mouth in shock, “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry, it’s just… it’s hard listening to you talk about this when I can’t contribute to the conversation.”

“No, you’re right. I’m sorry for always talking about it,” your friend said, eyes softening when she heard how regretful you sounded, “How about we change the subject?”

She didn’t wait for your response before launching into a monologue about how classes were going and her upcoming finals. You tried listening to her, but your mind was still stuck on the previous topic. Of course it was unfortunate that you happened to be twenty and with no sexual experience, but it didn’t bother you before like it was bothering you right now.

Ideas began racing through your head of how you could rectify this, and that’s when the seed was planted.

Now, almost a year later, your carefully thought out plan was almost complete; though, ‘carefully’ could be more loosely translated to ‘reckless.’

You paced outside of Mat’s door, walking back and forth as you fiddled with your hands, working up the courage to knock. This was such a bad idea. You brought your hand up to the door, pausing before your fist made contact before bringing it back down and resuming your pacing.

After another five minutes of deep contemplation, you made your decision. You knocked on the door before you could second guess yourself, now bringing your hands to tug at the strands of your hair.

The few seconds it took for Mat to answer the door felt like a lifetime, and when he opened the door, you were met with a confused look.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” He asked, peeking his head out of the door to glance down the hallway.

“Hi, I know you weren’t expecting me and you have to leave for practice soon, but I needed to talk to you about something,” you explained quickly.

Mat’s brows stayed furrowed in confusion, but he opened the door further to let you inside.

“Firstly, I just wanted to say that Anders doesn’t know I’m here, and I’d really appreciate it if you never mentioned it to him,” you said as he closed the door behind you.

Mat ushered you into his living room, gesturing for you to take a seat on the couch as he crossed his arms and waited for you to continue.

“This is going to sound absolutely crazy and you’re probably going to reject me but just hear me out,” you said, taking a deep sigh. He was totally going to shut you down, but there was no turning back now.

“I wanted to ask you if you’d have sex with me. You’d be doing me a favor as my friend. I’m kind of… a virgin… and I really don’t want to be anymore,” you took a breath to watch his reaction which was unreadable, “You’re probably thinking it’s a terrible idea, being that I’m Anders’s sister and everything, but I promise I won’t say anything to him. I just want to get a little experience under my belt… it’s kind of embarrassing. Anyway, I just wanted to ask if you’d give me a few lessons or something.”

You raised your eyes to meet Mat’s as you finished your rant, worrying about what he was going to say. A long silence fell between you two as he processed what you said.

“Uh… I don’t really know what to say,” he started awkwardly, bringing his hand to rub at the back of his neck, “I’m honored, I guess? That you asked me to help, but I’m just a little confused since we don’t really know each other.”

Okay, you could give him that. It was true that you weren’t the closest of friends, but you’d met on a handful occasions. It’s not like you were complete strangers, but other than knowing what you were studying in school and that you were Anders’s much younger sister, he didn’t know much about you.

“That’s fair,” you said, “I asked you because, well, you’re obviously hot which I’m sure you know. Also, not knowing each other is what makes this perfect. I’m not attached to you in any way and vice versa. Honestly? You’re one of the few guys in town that I feel comfortable around, so it was either ask you or find a random Tinder hookup and have to do this speech all over again but ten times as awkward.”

Mat didn’t like the last part of that explanation: the whole ‘random Tinder hookup to take your virginity’ part. He may not have known you that well, but he knew you were a nice girl and deserved to be more than just a notch on the bedpost of someone who didn’t care about you.

“I know you’re probably thinking I’m insane, and I get it. I felt a little insane when I thought about this too. But I really feel like you’re the best option. I understand if you think it’s too weird, though,” you said when he hadn’t replied. Your eyes watched him as he sat still as a rock across from you.

“I… I have to leave for practice soon,” was the only thing he responded with.

You felt your heart drop at his statement. Of course he was going to say no, you were an idiot for even trying.

“Yeah, totally, I’ll get going,” you said quickly, gathering your stuff and making your way to the entrance.

When you reached the door, you turned back one last time to see him still in the same position.

“Can you not tell Anders, please? I know this was a crazy, stupid idea but… just don’t tell him, okay? He doesn’t need to know about my sex… well, lack of sex life,” you added before shutting the door behind you.

-

Mat had lost his mind.

Truly and honestly, he had lost his mind if he was even considering your proposition. Which he was. He was really considering your proposition, and he wanted to punch himself for it.

He couldn’t possibly agree to this, could he? You were the captain’s younger sister. Sure, you two weren’t the closest of siblings, but the code still applied. And the code clearly said he was not allowed to fraternize with relatives of his teammates in any way. He hadn’t broken this rule yet, and he couldn’t believe he was even thinking about breaking it now.

Inside his head, he weighed the pros and the cons of sleeping with you. Well, teaching you would be a better phrase. If Mat was being honest, he had blacked out after the terms ‘virgin’ and ‘have sex with me’ fell from your lips. He watched you from his spot on the couch, his eyes following your mouth but not processing the words you were saying. Truthfully, he ran over the conversation a million times in his head and he wasn’t sure he was actually processing them now.

You wanted him to take your virginity. You wanted him to give you experience. You called them lessons.

You were, quite literally, asking him to be your sex tutor.

When you left the apartment, he did what he did best. He compartmentalized. Instead of thinking about the awkward conversation he just had with you, he pushed all thoughts of you from his mind and went to practice. For a whole three hours he focused on hockey. He even had the courage to look at his captain despite the weird interaction he’d just had with his sister.

But then practice was over, and Mat was left with nothing to do but think about what you said. Thinking turned into contemplating, and contemplating eventually turned into pulling up your Instagram page.

Mat typed and retyped the message a million times, deleting it before he could accidentally pressed send. He went back and forth between wanting to say yes and throwing his phone as far away from him so he wouldn’t be tempted.

What could be the worst thing that happened? He thought.

A million bad things could happen. He knew this deep in his heart that it was, for all intents and purposes, the worst idea ever to teach his captain’s sister how to have sex, but his head and desire to get laid had other plans.

So, he picked up his phone one last time and composed the same message he’d written a hundred times.

to @yourusername: does your offer still stand? text me 212-203-3849

-

For the second time in a week, you were pacing outside of Mat’s apartment. You’d received his message almost six days ago, and now here you were.

Your chest nearly collapsed with relief when you’d seen he wanted to take you up on your offer. And then your stomach filled with butterflies, nerves wracking your body as you now had an official plan to lose your virginity.

You eagerly liked the message, dialing his number in your phone so you could hash out the details over text. He promised you two would go over some ground rules in person, saying it felt too weird to have a written contract or something over text. You agreed to his plans and set a date to go over to his apartment that following weekend.

Feeling more courageous than you did a week ago, you knocked on the door with confidence this time. If you were going to lose your virginity tonight, you weren’t going to look like a frightened kitten when you did.

Mat greeted you with a warm smile this time, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. Same as last time, he ushered you into his apartment and directed you towards his couch.

“Do you want anything to drink? I was about to open a bottle of wine,” Mat asked, already moving to the kitchen.

“Yeah, wine would be great. Thanks,” you replied, taking a seat on the edge of the couch.

Mat tinkered around in the kitchen for a couple minutes before he joined you, handing you a glass of red. You took a long sip as he settled down, hoping the wine would work fast to calm your nerves.

“So, what did you want to discuss first?” He asked after a moment.

“Well, we should probably have some ground rules. I was thinking that since you’re the expert and all, you should decide how these lessons go. Oh, and I think that we should keep this to a three-time thing. Anything more than that will probably get more complicated,” you answered with ease. Not to say you had spent the past week thinking about what you were going to say, but you definitely did.

Mat nodded in agreement at your suggestions before adding his own.

“Yeah, that sounds good. Also, we can’t tell anyone about this because, you know, your brother and the team and all,” he said. You hummed in response, that much was a given. No one could know about this.

“So, where do we start? Should I take off my clothes or?” You asked.

“No,” he said with a chuckle, “We’re going to watch a movie.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. For now at least.”

You hadn’t known what you were expecting, but it was not a cuddle session on his couch. You imagined that maybe he would’ve just ripped your clothes off the minute you walked in to get down to business, but he was being way more casual than you were feeling. Which was probably a good thing because your heart was beating a thousand beats a minute, so at least one of you had this situation under control.

Mat had told you to dress comfortably as he didn’t plan on leaving the apartment, and he was dressed in a similar fashion as you: gray sweatpants with a dark blue t-shirt. You had thrown on a pair of leggings and a shirt from your college before leaving, making sure to wear at least a nice bralette and pair of panties underneath.

He drank down the rest of his wine before adjusting himself on the couch, moving into a position where he was laying down. Grabbing the blanket folded on the back cushion, he spread it out over his body before patting the spot in front of him. Normally, you would’ve been intimidated by a bold move like this, but the wide smile on his face indicated that he was perfectly comfortable right now, and his ease surrounded you in waves.

Slamming back the rest of your wine, you lay down in front of him, tucking your body against his while his arms pulled your chest closer.

“Anything specific you want to watch?” He asked, using his free hand to grab the remote. You muttered a quiet ‘no,’ allowing him to go ahead and choose. Mat scrolled through the Netflix options before settling on a new action movie.

“So, how much experience do you have exactly?” Mat asked once the introduction credits had finished. It was a good thing he wasn’t looking at you because your face heated up in embarrassment.

“I’ve only ever got as far as making out,” you muttered.

“No one’s ever touched you then?” He prodded.

“No,” you replied, your cheeks on fire. You couldn’t see him, but Mat nodded in response against the back of your head, letting out a quiet ‘okay.’

It wasn’t the first time Mat had been with a virgin, but that hadn’t been since high school and when he also wasn’t that experienced himself. Mat decided to let the movie play for a little bit longer before making his first move.

That time came when there was a particularly slow scene on. Slowly, he lifted up the hem of your t-shirt and slid his hand underneath, tracing small circles on the skin of your stomach. You clenched your thighs together as a warm feeling started to spread throughout your body.

It was happening.

Mat kept his hands there for a few minutes, inching up so slowly you almost couldn’t tell he’d moved at all. When the initial shock of his touch settled, you tried to refocus your attention to the movie.

Another ten minutes passed before Mat made his next move. Almost imperceptibly, he used his elbow to push his torso up before he brushed the hair covering your neck to the side. You felt his fingertips brush your ear, a shiver running up your spine. He brought his lips to your neck a split second later, placing a soft kiss against it.

Your eyes briefly shut for a second, reveling in the fact that Mat’s lips were on your neck. He kissed around your jaw a couple times before the hand on his stomach was shifting you to rest on your back. Your body followed his lead and your eyes met his hazel ones before he was leaning in to kiss your lips.

A heat unfurled in your body the second your lips connected and you eagerly moved yours against his. One of Mat’s hands had moved to the back of your neck to tilt your head at a better angle, the other hand moving further up under your shirt to rest just below your bra clasp. Your body involuntarily arched up into his hands as his tongue slipped out to part your lips. You opened your mouth and his tongue entered immediately, tangling with yours. You and Mat lay on the couch for a good while, making out heavily before you eventually had to break it for air.

“At least you don’t have to worry about kissing. You’re a natural,” Mat commended with an airy chuckle, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his compliment.

Mat’s smile brightened at your laugh before he leaned back in, the heat building in your body at double speed. You knew you were attracted to him, but you didn’t think he would be able to wind you up this fast. Or maybe it was just because you’ve never had a man touch you like this before.

Breaking the kiss, Mat began to trail more kisses down your body, pausing near your collarbone when he heard a particular breathy gasp leave your mouth. Mat continued his path over your shirt until he reached your belly button.

“Can I take this off?” He asked, looking up at you.

“You can take mine off if you take yours off,” you replied with a seductive smirk. Mat pulled back from your body, matching your smirk with one of his own as he tore off his shirt. Less than a second later, he was tugging at the hem of yours, urging you to sit up so he could take it off.

Mat’s hands were back on your body right after he tossed your shirt on the floor. This time, he retraced his path down your torso with his mouth and tongue, leaving no patch of skin untouched. His fingers danced around the edge of your leggings, teasing you until you were lifting up your hips into his face.

“Please take them off, Mat,” you said through gasps, wanting nothing more than to be rid of your clothing. He chuckled lightly against your waistband, his nose tickling your abdomen before he began shimmying off your leggings.

Tilting your hips up, you helped him slide the pants down your legs along with your underwear. Though your cheeks flamed up at the thought of being exposed before Mat, you felt oddly calm (well, as calm as you can be given the circumstances) with him.

“Holy shit, baby. You’re soaked,” Mat noted with a deep groan. He shuffled his body further down the couch into a comfortable position, lifting one leg to hook over his shoulder.

You breathed in shaky breaths as Mat placed gentle kisses on your thighs, working upwards slowly until he reached your core. And when he used his tongue to lick a strip across your pussy, your back arched into the air as you let out a loud moan.

“You gotta stay still, Y/N,” Mat chuckled darkly, wrapping one hand to steady your middle.

“Sorry, never done this before,” you replied in gasps.

Now immobilized, Mat resumed his place between your legs, repeating the same series of licks before he closed his lips around your clit. He flicked his tongue across the sensitive area. God, you would have done this a long time ago if you knew it would feel this good. You weren’t sure if it was too early to feel the heat inside you build up this quickly or if Mat was just too good at this. You hoped it was the latter.

His tongue lapped at your folds, and your hands flew down to grasp his hair in need. You didn’t think you could moan any louder, but then he brought his thumb to your clit to rub in tight circles as his tongue teased your entrance.

“Holy fuck,” you whined out, canting your hips up as much as you could. You could feel his smirk against your pussy at your exclamation, bringing his hand down to slowly enter a finger into you.

You let out a surprised gasp as you felt the first finger penetrate you. Mat kept his attention on your clit, lips sucking harshly at it. You let yourself get lost in the pleasure, focusing on how good he was making you feel.

After a few thrusts of one finger, giving you plenty of time to adjust, he added a second, feeling your walls tighten around them. He moved both fingers in and out of you, alternating the pressure between your entrance and clit. Just when he hit the right spot inside you, your hand tugged on his hair tightly, and he took the hint to curl his fingers against that spot.

“I’m so close, Mat,” you moaned, tossing your head back into the pillow.

“What do you need, baby?” He asked, pulling back for a quick breath. You glanced down to meet his gaze, taking in the way his chin glistened from your pussy. The view made you moan lowly, and his eyes darkened at the sound.

“Your tongue, please,” you begged quietly.

Mat heard the words leave your mouth and nestled his face back between your legs, tongue sliding up your slit in response. In rhythm with stroking your g-spot, he sucked at your clit, and it was mere seconds before your body coiled tightly inside. He kept the same pace and before long, you felt yourself crest the peak and then fall.

Mat removed his fingers slowly from your entrance, his tongue licking softly at your folds until he felt your breathing return to normal. It took you a few seconds to regain your sense of self, stars still whirling in the corners of your vision. When you finally felt yourself grounded on Earth again, you opened your eyes to see a self-satisfied smirk on Mat’s face.

“You’re so hot when you come,” he said when you met his gaze, and had you not been riding high on cloud nine when he said this, you might have blushed in embarrassment. But you weren’t embarrassed right now. The only thing you felt was giddy. Giddy because you were one step closer to your end goal.

And while you were blissed out, you dropped your gaze to notice the extremely visible bulge tenting in his sweatpants. Focused on a new task, you sat up quickly before leaning over Mat’s body so you could return the favor. Your lips crashed against his in a frenzy, your hands clumsily reaching down to grasp his length. However, you only got to feel it for a second before Mat’s hand was tugging it away.

“Not tonight, babe. Tonight was about you,” Mat said with a strained voice, breaking the kiss to look at you.

“What do you mean? We’re not having sex tonight?” You asked in confusion, your head still a little hazy from the orgasm.

“No, we’re not,” he laughed, noticing the wantonness in your voice, “You said I’m in charge, right? This was already a lot for one night, so we’ll put off the sex until next time.”

You nodded your head, though you weren’t really understanding. It made sense. Tonight was a very big step for you, and he didn’t want to give you too much at once. But despite that, your pussy was begging for a repeat performance and you were so far gone you were willing to do just about anything Mat would say.

“What about you, though?” You asked, glancing down to the noticeable tent.

“I’ll be fine, I promise. We still have two more lessons. There’s plenty of time for that later,” he replied, though the bulge between you seemed to say otherwise.

“Promise you’re okay?” You insisted.

“I swear, Y/N,” he said with a chuckle.

A comfortable silence fell between you after that, and you couldn’t help the wide smile that spread across your face. Your eyes sparkled with renewed purpose, and you felt satisfied for the first time in a long time. A smile of Mat’s own slowly appeared on his face as he watched you light up before him. Before you could stop yourself, you threw yourself into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck.

“Thank you, Mat. Thank you, thank you, thank you,” You said happily, punctuating each ‘thank you’ with a loud smacking kiss on his cheek.

When you pulled back to give him that award-winning smile again, Mat had one thought.

He was totally fucked.

[popculturebuffet]

Of Moons, Millionares and Mothers Part 3: Storkules in Duckburg! aka THE INCREDIBLE STORKULES TERRIBLE BUT WELL MEANING ROOMATE OUT OF MYTH

Hello all you happy people! And welcome and welcome back to Of Moons, Millionares and Mothers, my look at the season 2 arcs of Ducktales! This arc was paid for by WeirdKev27 and I truly enjoy his support. if you want to know how to commission your own reviews or to get a guarnateed review of me of your choice from me a month, stick around to the end. I realized that shoving all my plugs in up top may be driving people away and while I DO make them because I want to make a living off this, i’ts not fair to those of you who simply can’t afford to buy a lot of extra shit like myself to keep shoving it in your face. 

Previously on the Louie Inc Arc, Louie, after believing he had no skills and it was a matter of when not if he ws going to die, found his talent: seeing all the angles and thus being Sharper than the Sharpies. With newfound confidence and a chip on his shoulder from Scrooge saying he could one day be a bigger success than Scrooge himself, founding Louie Inc as a result. But what is Louie Inc? Does he actually have a plan or a bunch of buzzwords. And what does STORKULES, MANLY GAY OUT OF MYTH have to do with any of this? Join me under the cut to find out. 

We open with Louie giving Scrooge his sales pitch that is essentially...

Naturally Scrooge buys none of it. I mean he’s somewhere in his hundreds, he’s probably seen about 80 thousand pitches that amount to “I have no plan but give me money anyway”. There’s a reason there’s a Butch Hartman shaped crater on the lawn from where he threw his ass out. 

Scrooge does mentor the lad, or at least attempt to pointing out he needs an actual product or service (Louie rejects the idea of a lemonade stand as too easy), or as he puts it “Find a problem and create a solution”. 

While the basic PRINCIPAL isn’t bad, find something people want or need and provide it, phrasing it that way sounds like “find a problem people are having and exploit the shit out of that problem for fun and profit.” Granted that IS a guiding principal of business, it’s just not something an uncle should be teaching his kids. They should be teaching them about the anime and cartoons they grew up with as I do with my niece and nibling. 

He does show him a valid example of this in action in the form of Donald. Turns out Donald has found a good way to make money while he looks for a job, can relate: since Duckburg is facing a housing shortage, likely because several square blocks probably get destroyed by Scrooge’s Adventures, Glomgold’s Schemes, Superhero Battles, whatever creation went horribly wrong for Gyro, etc at least once a week. So he’s taken it upon himself to offer up the spare room to whoever can rent it.. and to steal Scrooge’s chandelier which even when caught he still takes anyway. Scrooge.. you called the guy a god-damn moocher in the season premiere, despite the fact he lives there soley because YOU offered and because he’s you know, being responsible and staying by his boys so they have their father figure around. So yeah I feel he’s doing this partly out of spite as is the McDuck way. I mean if your going to call him a freeloader just for being a responsible parent, then he’s going to take it up a damn notch.

Scrooge proceeds to laugh off Louie wanting a million dollars and gives him a dime instead because of course he was. Seriously Louie there are two other billionaires in town who are FAR dumber and far more easily swindled. Just go get star up capital from them. Hell with Glomgold all you’d have to do is tell him it’d upset scrooge and he’d literally throw money at you. Or give you a shark full of money. He needs the shark back though. He’s family. 

Meanwhile Donald prepares for his new tenant and finds.. THE INCREDIBLE STORKULES! Who to his mounting horror as he realizes it, IS the new tenant. And who throws him into the sun. Cue credits. 

So after Donald somehow survives being thrown into the sun, Storkules explains why he’s here: Zeus responded to his son playing the lute a lot like any rational reasonable 

No of course he responded to the “crime” of “playing his instrument a lot” with sending a swarm of harpies on the town then blaming Storkules for it and casting him out. What’s most shocking is not the action, this is honestly him staying the course of being a fucking disgrace, but that Zeus somehow ISN’T the biggest asshole i’ve dealt with this week. No that honor is reserved as always for this bitch:

Keep in mind she manages to be this obnoxious in only TWO scenes. Also keep in mind I had to put up with Julie for a MUCH larger chunk of the previous two volumes I covered before volume 5 yesterday for my Scott Pilgrim Retrospective and she is ALWAYS like this and you now feel my pain. 

This does create a problem though: Zeus casts Storkules out until he’s a responsible adult.. and thus paints Storkules as the bad guy... in a situation where the only other person in the story sent a swarm of HARPIES down at him for simply playing his music too loud. It just dosen’t work as a catalyst: Storkules objectively did nothing wrong. The only person he annoyed was a person who clearly dosen’t love, respect or like his son in any way shape or form anyway and essentially assaulted him and a bunch of innocent people via harpie and then cast him out. Zeus is an abusive asshole and i’ts weird the narrative sides with HIM and not our well meaning doofus. Zeus being an asshole with harpies is not a bad catalyst for the episode, and the harpies being unleashed is used well.. it’s just not a good catalyst for THIS story to try and portray an abuser as in the right. And make no mistake Zeus is a domestic abuser: he had his son mind controlled to try and MURDER innocent people, something Storkules begged him not to do, sent a swarm of creatures after him for the crime of playing his music too loud and in his next episode manipulatives Storkules sad emotional state for personal gain. Why would you try and paint THIS jackass as in the right?

Speaking of painting this jackass in the right sadly.. this episode does not do my boy donald justice. In most episodes he’s pretty nuanced and i’ts fair enough he’d be frustrated by Storkules as a roomate. Storkules has little sense of personal space, breaks his stove thinking theirs hydra in it, makes a mess of the kitchen making them a meal, and in general clearly dosen’t know how to live with a roomate much less in modern society. He has valid concerns and the episode COULD have used it that way.. but he’s also horribly impatient with Storkules. He refuses to get the guy just hasn’t had to live in a modern society and dosen’t know HOW to function in it and instead of helping him just gets mad again and again and gets really pissed when it’s clear Storkules dosen’t have a job and didn’t consider paying rent. He’s not WRONG to want him to pay Rent, despite what ironically the musical Rent would try and have you believe, but he dosen’t have any patience with the guy. And stork isn’t nearly coming on as strong as he normally does. The worst he does is cook the guy lunch and bring his donald fan art with him. Which we don’t see but I am assuming is mostly naked. What i’m saying is for once that while still bombastic, Storkules isn’t trying to force a relationship/friendship on him and simply wants to learn t be an adult from his best friend.. and Donald isn’t bothering teaching him.

Asking for rent or for him not to destroy the stove is fine, but not explaining WHY he needs either of those things or why he needs boundaries, he makes a roomate list, isn’t helping the guy. And this would be fine... but the episode dosen’t call Donald out on it for no real reason. It feels like it’s setting up for a “you should learn to wokrk with someone instead of just screaming at them aseop” that never comes and like with Zeus takes his side because shutup. I’d also LIKE to say this is the only time the writers reduced one of the cast to a caracture of themselves.. but I can’t.  Several episodes in season 3 forgot Louie’s character development and another episode in season 2, The Duck Knight Returns!, somehow reduced both Scrooge and Dewey to parodies of themselves with Scrooge SOMEHOW, despite Della as stubborn as she is being in his care and by his side for decades and Movies bein ga huge business, not having seen a movie since the 1920′s and not knowing how they work and Dewey being reduced to just hyperactive moron. It isn’t as common as other shows like say Regular Show, The Loud House or, for the exact reason I lost intrest, Rick and Morty, but I still expect better, especially since they went into this season KNOWING Donald would be gone for half of it and this would likely be one of his only spotlight episodes. 

Back at the good part of the plot, Louie is having a company meeting aka already treating Huey and Webby like his employees. Webby of course is glad to sign on, if little help in actually coming up with a product while Huey just wants to nope out. And if your wondering why Dewey isn’t involved Louie outright says he’d make a bad employee and while Dewey rises from his bed to object.. he stops halfway to opening his mouth and concludes he has a point. Best gag of the episode. Louie being louie easily cons Huey into staying by making Webby his charts officer. 

So the three have a corporate retreat at Funso’s... granted they don’t have a product but Louie figures this might help. Huey.. still wants out of this and suggest since they already spent what they had on ski ball “Company over?”. It’s clear that Huey just sees this as another one of Louie’s short sighted schemes... and while he’s not ENITRELY wrong, Louie has genuine ambition.. he just has no earthly idea what he’s doing and is shooting way too high.. but for understandable reasons. 1) He’s 11 at this point. 11 year olds aren’t great at business strategy or reinging it in. 2) he wants to live up to what Scrooge said to prove he can be successful and really be worth something like his mom was. 

But sometimes fate throws you one and the harpies bust in. And while Louie wants to do nothing and hope they go away Huey and Webby spring into action.. as does Storkules, who had to leave but warns donald there’s Orzo in the slowcooker and to not open it “LEST THE PASTA FAIL TO ABSORB THE BROTH!” Which is just.... Chris’ best line dleivery the episode. He says it like he’s saying the title of an old Stan Lee and Jack Kirby comic, i’ts wonderful.

So our heroes defeat them and Louie steps in to charge for the service and quickly comes up with a company idea and name “Harp-B-Gone” (A Subsidary of Louie Inc). Louie hires Storkules on the spot. Storkules proudly tells Donald he has a job the next day and goes off to it. What follows is our heroes hilarously shooting a commerical with Storkules playing a baby to promote themselves so they can help who needs it. They just need to find out what they want.. and thanks to the JWG and the harpies stealing it find out they go after people’s most treasured posessions   Cue Ghostbusters-Style Montage

And this isn’t just me saying thing. The Rewriting History Entry (Which as a series weirdly stops around mid-season 2 and I don’t get why frank hasn’t gone back and finished it since) states they specifically based this whole operation on ghostbusters and the entire sequence of our heroes cleanin up the town reminds me of it. The highlight of it is a glomgold cameo where he’s kidnapped.. and refuses to pay so Louie just lets him go. And were this an innocent person who couldn’t afford it, i’d call him a monster.. but it’s glomgold. he brought this on himself.. and also sues himself for it. Wonder if he won. 

So with their stars rising, our heroes get booked on the hottest show in town: Dewey Dew-Night! I had honestly forgotten there was a Dewey Dew-Night segment in there, and delighted I get to talk about this recurring bit.  It’s one of the shows funniest runners and just perfectly FITS Dewey: of course the most egotistical and energetic of the kids would not only want to be a late hnight host but make up his own show. I also love the slow evolution of it: it started as something everyone clearly knew about but he stlill tried to keep hidden, slowly escalated to him allowing the rest of his siblings (Webby very much included) and the giant man who stalks his uncle in, and by later this season he’s putting the show online in the web shorts and gladly shooting it into space, with Season 3 having him spend the first half of let’s get dangerous making a documentary that includes an episode of the show featuring Darkwing. It’s a small thing sure, but it’s the little things like this that make the show special. 

The show does reveal a problem though as it turns out they’ve GOT all the harpies and while Storkules merely wanted to help, Louie points out they need more to keep a buisness going and naturally never bothered to ask Storkules just how many there were. They need SOME plan to get going. Webby submits a legitamte and great idea, training the harpies as she’s been trying to do in the background of the episode and aside from a hole in the floor they are starting to listen. But Huey is an ass about it and not only shoots it down saying let’s keep the dangerous creatures contained, even though A) he has no idea WHERE they’ve been kept so he can’t verify it’s safe, and since i’ts Donald’s Closet no no it’s not. and B)There’s no where he knows of to keep them. He isn’t aware of the other bin till next season. and C) it’s not ehtical to keep creatures locked up forever epsecially since while the harpies are dangerous they arent’ MALEVOLENT and are clearly acting on instinct. oh and for D) at least she has a plan to keep the company going instead of just wanting to end this and cash out. 

Which Huey tries to.. but naturally Louie spent all their money on...

So their broke.. and Storkules has no rent money and feels like a failure despite having done NOTHING wrong. We do get a clever little nod to Disney’s hercules though “I”m not a hero, i’m a zero”. Webby rightfully glares at Louie who decides to fix it... by sneaking into Donald’s house that night to free the harpies. 

Though to the shows credit it’s a VERY bad idea, and Storkules coming in mid attempt and congradulating Louie when he lies about checking the door gets the kid to come clean. And it’s a nice character moment: He could still go through with it.. but it’s clear he realizes just HOW low he was about to sink to save his own skin and that as much as Storkules WANTS a paycheck and deserves one, it’s not worth hurting people to get it. Louie tries to justify after this.. but can’t. 

Unforutnately Donald took a lot of stupid pills this episode, yells about his no pets rule and frees them instead of you know, THINKING for five minutes.

So yeah NATURALLY Donald is an angry shit about it , refusing to actually TALK to Storkules about this or maybe admit this is partly HIS OWN FAULT. Yes their both at fault, Storkules shoudln’t of shoved a bunch of harpies in a closet. That’s a classic blunder. But Donald still opened it and isn’t called out on taking zero responsibility. Huey sees the fracas and just takes down their days without an accident placard, good stuff and he and webby arrive to help. Donald fights with Storkules and Storkules worries about loosing his friend.. lead to them going after the thing he values most aka donlad and hyjacking the house boat, though the kids manage to get aboard. 

As Storkules saves Donald, Louie realizes the most precious thing he has is  his merch and willingly gives it, and his buisness up to save everyone. It’s good character stuff and shows that despite his problems with greed, Louie IS a good kid and will do the right thing. It’s what seperates him from the Rouges Gallery the family faces: He has FLEXIBLE morals but he has morals when it comes down to it. So everyone tosses the stoff to help direct the hapries and make it home tying them up. Donald has a heart to heart with Storkules and agrees to help him find another place, but still considers him a friend and they hug. Awww.  One intresting thing I DID find out from rewriting history is they originally fully intended to have Storkules STAY on the houseboat. He was going to be a permenant member of the household, at least as far as Season 2 was concenred and plans were made for several episodes down the road: the whole bit with him in “The Golden Spear” was simply because he lived there, he was going to be the one Della met in the houseboat, obliviously guilting her about what she’d missed, and he was going to set off the kids subplot in “Whatever Happened to Donald Duck?”

This ended up not happneing for logistical reasons: Frank, and I swear this was the term he used, felt they already had the perfect Himbo in Launchpad and it was just too much HImbo energy for the two to coexist without one taking the others screen time or neither getting a lot. 

The next reason was having a god around simply broke the story: He cited the gilded man from “Nothing Can Stop Della Duck!” as a specific example. There were just too many hoops to jump to have him not break any story he should be around for.  Finally with Della being added to the cast soon there simply wasn’t room in the main cast. Della brought it up to 9, Storkules would make it 10, and as i’ve gone on about the show already had trouble ballancing it’s cast, something Frank admitted to. Adding him would both be too big a stiatus quo change and be one on top of the massive one of Della joining the cast. So he was dropped back to recurring and only showed up one more time. And while it was the right call I am dismayed he didn’t show up for the whatever happened to donald duck subplot and it does feel very weird he never adresses Donald being gone despite, at least for season 2, apparently living in Duckburg. Otherwise though as funny as this wouldv’e been.. yeah it was the right call. 

Scrooge returns... having been absent all episode because otherwise it wouldn’t work and easily saw Louie loosing it all coming.. but gives him a can of lemonade for his troubles and comforts the boy. The heart of htis arc and what makes it work at it’s best.. is these two. Scrooge GENUINELY wants to help Louie see his potetial successor in buisness: oh sure adventure wise he’s throughly covered.. but Webby, Dewey and Della all are more focused on the addventure part and that’s where their passion and talent lies, Huey’s better at science and given his close frinedship with fenton and how much that part of things seems to truly inspire him, i’ts what he was born for, and Donald just wants a regualar life and can’t manage his own life much less a company. 

Louie is the only one in his family whose the right fit to inhereit that part of his legacy and I feel that’s why he takes a special intrest in him and webby over the other two: While he loves all of them and will clearly again leave a piece of his fortune and empire to all of them, Webby is the most like him, as we later find out not coincidentally in the slightest, when it comes to adventuring and curosity and a love of exploration. But Louie is the most like him in other ways; He’s cynical, money driven and passionate. Scrooge simply wants him to be as good a person and buisnessperson as he can be and is trying to push him in the right direction. And does so here by pointing out that failure isn’t a huge problem..it happens, comes with the terriotiry and as we’ve seen with life and times, even with portions of it clearly not happening in this universe, he failed a LOT to get here. What matters is that he tries and tries to do it the right way. 

Scrooge also sympathizes as he was buying a lemonade company in cape suzette, giving Louie the can as a present... but laments there’s no cheap effective way to deliver the lemons. Louie notices the harpies going after the can after he throws it and Webby controlling them with it and muses that theyd idn’t think about what THEY wanted.. nad rightfully gets punched across the lawn by Webby, whose had to spend an entire episode having her surrogate brothers talk down to her and ignore her valid ideas. She dosen’t even open her eyes she just bops him one.

So we end with Scrooge having enlisted the hapries, Louie trying to take credit again and both realizing they might just steal the lemons instead of work for them. Ha ha ha their going to get so sued. 

Final Thoughts: This one was mediocre. It has some good points, Louies arc continues to fascenate me, Huey’s done with this shit attitude is hilarous, and Storkules is at his best in this episode: his crush on Donald is toned down from this..

To this

To the point I could see shipping them off this one if Storkules episode didn’t have him do eveyrthing short of .. well see above.  So it’s not WITHOUT merit: I love me a ghost busters style plot, there are great jokes and Chris Dimatopolis is a gem as always. Glad he’s getting work after this show on Invincible and hope he gets to play Darkwing again some day. But the Donald stuff and the fairly predictable plot drag this one down. I’ts fairly obvious they’ll run out of harpies, Louie will have spent the money and they’ll somehow get free. It’s not a terrible episode but it’s it’s sandwiched story wise between two straight up classics on both sides: the previous two episodes were even better than I remembered and the next two are incredibly good: Whateve Happened to Della Duck?! is one of their finest hours and The Outlaw Scrooge McDuck, while not making my best of list for the series as a whole is still one of my favorites for the season.  It’s just disapointing this one wasn’t nearly as good as I remmebered and it’s understandable why I forgot almost all of it, unlike the previous two episodes. Thankfully as I said better’s over the horizon.

NEXT TIME ON OF MOONS, MILLIONARES AND MOTHERS: I’m taking a break for a week. One of two weeklong breaks for the arc, the other being the first week of July where i’m on vacation anyway (Though i’ll be doing the episode I would’ve done for that week the week before to keep the pace up, so no worries),

 As for why, it’s my utmost honor to announce GOOF WEEK! Goof Week is a weeklong celebration of Goofy’s birthday. The idea came about because as I do for the big three, I intended to just do a shorts special. But Kev , the guy who made this very review possible, suggested doing the two part Goof Troop pilot. And since kev pays for a house of mouth episode a month anyway and thaks to you lovely people I hit my patreon stretch goal to review the goofy movie, I figured “why not make a week out of it. Hence Goof week. So next week we’ll have a review of the two part pilot for Goof Troop, the special Sports Goof, the House of Mouse episode Super Goof, your regularly schedule shorts spectacular, with The Goofy Movie for the grand finale! yaaahoooooieeee! 

When we come back i’ll be shuffling episodes around slightly so I can do the Della comics from the Ducktales Tie-In Comic before her debut and in time for Donald’s own theme week in June, i’ll be saving “Whatever Happened to Della Duck?” for the week after Donald Week. Instead next we get a fun wild west adventure as Scrooge tells a story of his outlaw days, his tension with goldie and his encounter with a certain robber baron as John D Rockerduck FINALLY makes his screen debut. Yee-Haw!

If you liked this review, subscribe and follow for more and consider joining my patroen, patreon.com/popculturebuffet. I have exclusive reviews, my most recent duck based one being an obscure carl barks story about wigs and the boys attempting to murder a guy with a blow gun, and your contribution helps me reach my goals and thus gets everyone, patreon or not, a bunch of neat new reviews. If you get me to 20 dollars a month, i’m currently at 15, EVERYONE will get a monthly darkwing duck reviews, reviews of the two remaning ducktales 87 mini series including the origin of GIZMOOOODDUUUUUCCCKKKK, and a review of the Danny Phantom movie The Ultimate Enemy. And with the month running out NOW’S the time to join. YOu’ll also get to pick one of the shorts for my Donald Duck birthday specail next month, so if you want to join in NOWS the time. But wether you can or you can’t, thank you for reading, i’ts been a pleasure. 

[stressisakiller]

My Sunflower My Star

Buck Barnes x reader Soulmate AU

 (Hello Sunflower Part 2)

Summary:  Your soul mark appears on your 18th birthday. What do you do when your father is a part of Hydra and your soul mark binds you to the Winter Soldier.

Warnings: None really, bit of violence, couple of cuss words

Word Count: 2.6k 

A/N: New Edit 3/18: Mostly minor things but still worth a reread Here is the revised chapter two. Let me know what you think and if you have any requests for future parts. Also I originally got the idea for this after reading Wolf, Partner Gloves... by @revengingbarnes so check it out!

Flashbacks are in Italics

Series Masterlist

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It was on one of your missions when you had first seen it, the sunflower on his hip. He was changing after taking his shower and in your mind everything clicked. You stared at it mesmerized, you could see the scars littered across its length from where Hydra tried to remove it from his skin. But it was still as vibrant as the mark that graced your hip. You were pulled out of your reverie by an almost imperceptible chuckle coming from the usually stoic soldier.

 “Like what you see, doll?” You immediately averted your eyes, fighting to hide the telltale blush that you could feel coloring your cheeks. 

“I didn’t mean to stare, I just realized that I had never seen your soul mark before. Do you know who it is?” You asked, trying to steer the conversation away from your obvious staring. 

“No,” he looked confused, “I don’t believe I do, I can’t remember.” his brow was furrowed as he traced the tattoo. He shook his head, ridding his face of emotion, gone was the man, and the soldier stood in his place. 

Laying down with your back to him you let your mind wander. His tattoo was a sunflower, of course, it was, why else would you decide to call him that. Why else would your phrase work? Why else would he recognize you even when he couldn’t actually remember why? The nickname that you gave to him was his tattoo. You let tears fall from your face for the first time since you discovered your own soul mark. You cried for the future that you may never have with him, you cried for the pain he had endured because of your mark on his skin. And when all of your tears had been shed you allowed anger and determination take their place. You would not allow him to lie the rest of his life under the thumb of hydra, you would die before you let that happen. So in that cold hotel, you began to plan, you were going to save the winter soldier even if it killed you.

 So, as you fought to pin him on that concrete you hoped against hope that he would remember.

Pinning him, you could see the shift in his eyes as he recognized you. He had spent way too much time with you as the winter soldier to truly forget you. You spoke quickly and quietly to him between breaths. There was a flicker in his eyes as you spoke, spurring you on. His eyes weren’t completely clear showing that he was still in soldier mode, so you did the only thing you could think of, the only thing that you knew would get him moving. You gave him an order. 

"Soldier, change in mission, you are to come with me." You saw the flash of confusion on his face, gone as quickly as it arrived and you prayed that he would listen. He nodded and turned to follow you. You sprinted to the nearest car and hopped in. Catching Steve’s eye from the other side of the bridge. You looked at the girl next to him, knowing she would understand, you quickly signed "trust me" to her, she nodded and pulled on Steve's arm, letting him know what you said. He nodded at you before allowing her to pull him with her to follow Nat and escape

You rushed to get the car moving, throwing it into gear before peeling out and driving in the opposite direction as Steve and Natasha. You pressed the gas harder as the sound of sirens reached you, Hydra wouldn’t be far behind. You drove fast, weaving through the cars, noticing the cars following behind you as hydra started to catch up. Then you saw it, the opportunity you needed to escape, a way for them to believe you dead, or at least lost. The river. You looked over at Bucky his eyes were clearer than they were on the bridge. They mirrored the same determination you were feeling. He nodded and you turned the wheel. It felt as if time slowed as you hit the guardrail, the car careening into the murky water below.

You blinked the darkness from your eyes at the impact. The cold water rushing into the car and throwing your brain into high gear. There were gunshots above you, you would have to stay under as long as you possibly could. It was imperative that you made it as far away from the bridge and the hydra agents as you could.  Looking over at Bucky you both took a deep breath as the water closed over your heads. Everything felt muted as you escaped the flooded car, you swam, kicking your legs as hard as you could, using the current to drag your farther and farther downriver.

You burst out of the water coughing and gasping when you couldn’t hold your breath any longer. You scanned the water, looking for any sign of Bucky that you could find, You started to panic when you couldn’t see him. Shit, what if he didn’t make it, what if he got out earlier than you, what if something happened? Your swirling thoughts were interrupted by a head of dark brown hair bursting out of the river downstream from you. Gasping for air just as you had a few moments ago, your heart squeezed in your chest, tension leaving you at seeing him alive. You swam over to him, making your way to the bank of the river. Only exiting the river when you found an area that would mask your exit from anyone that came looking.

 You grabbed Bucky’s arm pulling him after you. Running towards the buildings lining the river, finding an alley to duck into you took a moment to assess your surroundings. You had a mental map in your mind of DC, thanks to all of your time on missions here. You took a second to figure out where you were in relation to your safe house. Bucky remaining blessedly quiet, letting you take the lead, scanning the area for any threats. You finally figured out the best way to get to your safe house without getting caught, mostly ducking through alleys and deserted side streets. It had been dark for a couple of hours by the time you arrived at the door of the nondescript brick building you had chosen.

You were shivering from head to toe as you walked around to the fire escape, using a hidden pole to pull the ladder from its place above your heads. You started up the ladder, waiting for Bucky when you reached the first landing. When he was safely beside you, you pulled the ladder back up so that you couldn’t be followed. You climbed to the middle floor of the building, you had set up traps on the floors above and below making it the safest place in the building. You pulled a brick out from near the window, taking the key you hid inside to open the locked window. You slipped through the small opening, pausing to listen for any hints that someone else was in the room. When you were mostly confident that it was just you, you pulled your gun from its holster and turned on one of the gas lamps.

You didn’t have to worry about anyone looking in since you had blackout curtains over each of the windows; the cameras that you had placed around the building gave you ample view of anyone that walked by. You walked through each room of the empty apartment checking every nook and cranny before holstering your pistol. Turning on a couple more lights and the heater, you walked back into the main living area. You smiled at the sight of Bucky standing in the middle of the room looking like a lost puppy, something that you would have never attributed to him before that moment. For the first time in months, you were able to relax. You motioned for him to sit at the table, walking towards the kitchen to make some dinner. You hadn’t eaten all day and you knew that Bucky was probably in the same boat. 

“Any requests for food?” you asked, glancing at the soldier. He was sitting in the chair as straight as a rod, muscles tense in case he needed to defend himself. You hated how Hydra had ruined his ability to feel safe. He moved his gaze from scanning the room to staring at your face. You waited patiently for him to answer, knowing that he wasn’t used to being asked for an opinion. 

“Umm, I don’t really know what foods I like, so anything is fine.” He finally said, looking self-conscious. You tread over to him, taking care to appear harmless, noticing the small tensing of his shoulders every step you took towards him. You held your hands out in surrender, kneeling in front of him to make your presence less threatening.

“I swear to you, you will never have any reason to fear me. I am here to help, and I could never hurt you. You are safe here, Hydra won’t find you here and if they do I will have your back until they are dead or I am.” you spoke softly but he could hear the conviction in your voice, and for some reason it made him trust you. He felt like he knew you and he was trying to figure out why. He nodded to you and you headed back to the stove, making a simple meal of grilled cheese and tomato soup. You placed the food in front of him and sat on the other side of the table, relaxing at the warmth of the food and the knowledge that at least for tonight you and Bucky were safe.

You discretely studied the man across from you. Taking a moment to look at your soulmate. A peaceful moment where you weren't being forced to fight him or stuck on a mission where you felt conflicted by the actions you were forced to commit. You just got to see him. You could tell that his hair was longer than the last time you saw him. The black that they had placed around his eyes was running down his cheeks from the river water. He was as buff as you had ever seen him and his metal arm was the same as always with the red star on his shoulder. But it was his eyes that captured your attention. Those piercing blue eyes were looking at you with confusion and just a hint of hope as he silently ate his food. His eyes were so much more expressive and so very different than when he was brainwashed. You gave him a small smile when you noticed his gaze. After you both finished stuffing your faces you set down your fork, took a deep breath, and spoke. 

"Alright," you paused, worried that you were about to regret the words coming out of your mouth, "ask me anything" He took a second, you swore you could see the gears turning in his head. 

"The man on the bridge, he knew me?" He spoke slowly as if tasting the words as they crossed his tongue. You gave him a small smile, and nodded, 

"Yes, he knew you, very well actually,” you took a deep breath and started playing with your fingers, “his name is Steve Rogers and you grew up together. Your name is James Buchanan Barnes, but your friends call you Bucky." He studied you intently while you reached around your neck and took off his dog tags, handing them to him, "these are yours, you were in WWII, and in 1943 you fell off a train and were captured by Hydra, you were brainwashed and frozen. They took you in and out of cryo, using you to do their bidding before throwing you back in." He slowly nodded, taking in your words and mulling them over before speaking. 

"I don't fully remember what all happened or what all I did but that sounds right." He raised his eyes to look straight at you again, "And you, I know you"

 You took a sip of your drink placing it carefully on the table before speaking 

"Yes, you know me" you started chewing on your lip as you decided how to proceed. "My father worked for Hydra since before I was born and when I was 10 they started testing on me. My father would take me with him and have me watch as they would put you in and out of cryo. I hated him before but seeing the torture and pain they put you through was what made me decide to find a way to get us both out. Then I turned 18, and everything went to hell. I got my soulmarks and blatantly disobeyed him. He had enough and tried to wipe me, they had done it before when I was younger, but this time they couldn't. I was too stubborn and already had a purpose that superseded anything that they could do. But I let them believe that they had won, that the brainwashing had worked. They had me fight and train with you as well as occasionally go on missions with you, once they believed me under their control." You saw the hint of a smile on his face as he recalled 

"You would always say that phrase, the one you said on the bridge." His gaze on you was intense and you couldn’t fight the smile that was threatening to escape, 

"Privet, podsolnukh, solntse vzoshlo, i tvoi mechty ispolnilis'. Hello, sunflower the sun is up and your dreaming is done. The sunflower is my favorite flower and so it seemed fitting for you."  There was an emotion in his eyes at that moment that you couldn't name. 

"You mentioned your soul marks, you have two?" You nodded slowly at his question, "… may I see them?"

 You felt as if your heart was stuck in your throat, for the first time since you turned 18 you felt ashamed of the tattoo that masked one of your marks. Unable to say anything you nodded and stood. Lifting the right side of your shirt and pulling the waist of your pants down just enough to see your tattoo. He stared at your hip a moment before looking up at your face,

 "I don't understand" he murmured as he looked back down at the night sky inked on your skin. 

You took a deep breath and started to explain, "My soul mark is a star, a red star," you pointed to the original star before continuing, "I couldn't let them use it against me so I got a tattoo to disguise it." You could see the question swirling in his eyes and you nodded. It felt electric when he brushed his finger over the star, and you couldn't help the gasp that passed your lips. He smiled, truly smiled, and it was in that moment that you decided you would spend the rest of your life doing whatever you could to see that smile again.

"And the other one?" he asked finally pulling his gaze from your hip. You quietly pulled up the sleeve of your shirt to show him the flowers and the wolf. Understanding crashed over him and he let out a breathy laugh.

"The Howling commandoes, it's referencing the unit that I was apart of with Steve near the end of the war, although I'm sure what the flowers mean."

"I looked them up," you offered, continuing when he nodded to you, "The Marigold is the flower for your birth month, it also means warm and undying love, as well as grief and sorrow. The Daisy stands for new beginnings, baby's breath is for everlasting, unconditional love, and the gladiolus is for strength and integrity." but the time you finished speaking you could see the tears in his eyes as the reality of what fate had placed on you to represent him sank in. He didn't say anything before he stood and lifted the left side of his shirt and you got to see the sunflower that extended from his hip up to his ribs, full of life and color, so different to the soldier that Hydra had made him into. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes as you looked at him.

 "It is nice to officially meet you, my sunflower." You couldn’t help the watery laugh that escaped as he said those words. 

"It's nice to meet you my star, I have wished for this every day since I first got my marks." You replied. With that, he pulled you into his arms and you decided that this was your favorite place to be.

Tagged users: @calwitch @writerwrites

[floralifetime]

Toruk Makto's Sister

Warning: Very bad writing, some grammatical error (English is not my first language, so please be gentle), mentions of bad parenting, mentions of abandonment, some bad words.

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⚠️⚠️Phrase and pictures (only the names are mine) are not mine, all the credits to the owners.⚠️⚠️

Things written in orange will be interpret as the original language of the Na'vi, I say this because I'm not able to build sentences in their language from scratch, in future chapters when you see things written in orange, you will know what that specifics color means.

Chapter n.4 Two Twins

Parenthoos requires LOVE not DNA.

We walked for some time while Jakey asked me every 2 minutes how I felt and if my shoulder was still hurting, yes of course but it was eased by the makeshift bandage. “Once again, Jakey I'm fine. It's nice of you to worry so much, but I guarantee you I'm fine, at least for now." my brother sighs looking down, I approach and place my hand on his shoulder. “What is it, big brother?” I ask, my voice softer than a feather. Jakey stopped and looked me in the eyes, sad, worried.

“I'm sorry, I should have protected you better…” He blames himself for my injury. I looked at him wide-eyed, as if a second head had sprouted. It's not his fault, I knew full well the forest would be dangerous, and with the looming darkness it will only get worse, this is not his fault. It never was. “Jakey, what are you talking about?” I asked, already feeling the guilt eating away at me for making him believe such a thing. “I mean, I'm here armed and I was supposed to protect you, yet you ended up injured when I was here!” he complains and I notice how his gaze lingers on my wound, even if I want to I can't hide it, the scratch is very extensive, it doesn't just take my shoulder even though that is the part that makes me suffer the most. It also nicked part of my arm, about two inches above the elbow, but it doesn't matter, I knew the risk I was running, I also knew that Jakey, although he never listened to my warnings, was trying to do his best.

“Jakey, big brother, I knew what could happen. Of course the Thanator is a particularly big bad luck but… I knew what I was getting myself into, when I wanted to accompany Grace out here, we all knew it.” I try to reassure him but he presses "But I was here to protect you, I'm a fucking Marine!" he starts waving his arms, as if they could show his concern. "And you were wounded in front of me, I was with you and I was usless!" he concludes. "That's not true, there was nothing concrete you could do, other than what you actually did." I take his hand.

“You know, Thanators are also known as Palulukan, or dry mouth bringers of fear.” I shake his hand pushing him to look at me. "Why dry mouth?" he asks and I shrug. "I really have no idea, but either way, that's not the part we're interested in." I smile. "What interests us is the other part of the definition. Bringers of fear." I retrace as Jakey raises an eyebrow, or at least tries since Avatar bodies don't have them, he's trying to figure out where I'm getting at without actually saying anything to him. "Jakey, what I mean is that even the Natives of Pandora, the Na'vi, they stay away from Thanators as much as possible, fearing them like few things in the world. If they are afraid of them who were born and raised here, imagine what we should do who know little or nothing about Pandora." "So…?" he asks confused, I have to remind myself that my brother needs simple instructions or he gets lost. "So, what I mean is that you could not have foreseen such a situation, I should have expected it eventually, but not you." I stop and place myself in front of him, putting my hands on his shoulders. "Listen to me carefully, because I don't want to go back to this topic again. It's not your fault, it will never be, it could have been much better but we're fine and we're together, that's what counts in the end, isn't it?” I asked and he nodded with eyes as big as owls. "And always remember that you are my brother, my hero. If Eywa gave me the chance to choose the best brother, I would always choose you!" I conclude smiling and lifting my arm with difficulty to stroke the cheek of my brother who was trying to hold back the tears. "Shit!" he whispers. “I have the best sister in the world, I'm so damn lucky!” he smiled pulling me to him in an embrace as tight as felt. I laughed and hug him back. “Together forever, never apart. Maybe in the distance but never in the hearth.” we say together, it's a familiar motto, I invented it as a child, a bit like the motto The Sully's stick together! of Jakey's invention. It would be perfect if Tom was there too, but we can keep him with us in our hearts, he will be safe there and he will accompany us everywhere.

Jakey gently taps the tip of his finger on my temple, he has to do it a couple of times more than usual to finally see me listen to him and let him go, however he has never shown haste or disappointment in this gesture, the softness of the touch has never changed. Despite all his flaws, Jakey has a lot of patience with me, I have to give him that, so I pulled away from him slowly, looking at him with a big reassuring smile that was reflected in his grateful smile. “Thanks again, little sister. I'm not sure what I did to deserve you, but I'll do better, I promise." I smile blushing slightly. "It's no use, you know." we both smiled. “The Sully's stick together.” we say in chorus before breaking away completely and looking around. “I'm no ace at orientation right now and don't currently recognize the area…” I sigh sadly. "On Earth it's always recommended to stay where you are and wait for help when you get lost, but I don't think this is the case here." My bigger brother claims. "No, I would say no also because there are predators here that don't exist on Earth, I honestly don't want to become their dinner." I say. “We'd better start walking and look for a safe shelter.” my brother nods and with these words, we start moving again.

We walked for I don't know how long, we were silent but soon Jakey broke the silence between us. "Soon we won't see anything, let's stop for a moment." He says scanning the sky. His statement prompted me to do the same thing and nod. "You're right, I think we'd better find a shelter quickly." I agree. Not hearing him answer but hearing noises near me, I turned around to understand what he was doing and I caught him while he was building a flashlight as best as possible. I said he is not the best of intelligence. "Jakey, by the grace of the Great Mother, what exactly are you doing?” I asked, hoping not to confirm my suspicions. I was disappointed, of course. "But Jakey, you'd put us in even more danger with fire, you know that?" I ask him. “Why?” he asks without even turning to look at me, one of the things I can't stand. If I talk to you, at least look me in the face. “Jakey, you know I don't like it when you do that, look at me.” I remind him and he finally pauses working on the craft torch and looks at me. "Thank you." I sigh before continuing. “Don't build anything that has to do with fire, its light will attract predators.” I explain. “And how do we continue?” he asks as he goes back to work on the flashlight, as if I hadn't said anything. “I really don't think we should continue, remember how you used to sleep in trees when there were no other shelters? Well, I think we should do the same thing.” I say just as Jakey finishes the flashlight and gets ready to light it. "I'm not going to sleep in a tree, sorry sis, but I want to go back to the outpost and to do that I need to see more than total darkness and some fluorescent silhouettes." my brother grunts, I was about to reply when the desperate, yet deafening, crying of two children bumped into my ears and penetrated my heart. Jakey also immediately stops what he was doing and turns to look at me with absurd speed. “You heard it, didn't you?” he asks me, I nod, still shocked and with my heart pounding so much that I feel the blood pounding in my ears. With just a glance my brother and I agree, we have to find the little ones.

We followed the direction from which we heard this noise, we weren't running because my wound was still hurting, but we were going at a much higher speed than normal walking. As soon as we reached the place where the crying and screaming were coming from, we started looking around for the little ones. I scan the ground and every single nook and cranny of the lush forest until I find them. They were two very small children, as I slowly approached them I could notice their particularly small size with purple hues around the tiny fingers, they must have been born recently. I lean towards them and I can't help but notice the paint that smears their little bodies. A large red stripe across their tight abdomens, with a differently painted area in the center, right where their little heart beats. The area not painted red was painted black instead, a symbol was drawn there, it was a circle, which contained other smaller and smaller ones, ending with a point at the exact height of their hearts. In practice, someone had drawn an archery target, since the Na'vi do not usually use rifles, on their chests. Near their little hands, which moved incessantly in search of something to hold on to or some good soul to take them in their arms, there were the remains of a red thread.

Ignoring the pain in my shoulder, I reached down and picked them both up, resting their little heads on the insides of my elbows, just where my forearms begin. Their little tails curl around my wrists as I gently lift them up, supporting their little heads, bringing them both closer to my face. “Shh…It's okay kids, you're safe now…” I whispered cradling them gently and squeezing them to my chest, still gently. “I know, it's scary…I would cry desperately too if I was alone in a forest at night…” I cooed kissing their small foreheads. I feel the girl's tail squeeze my wrist, as if to seek security. It breaks my heart to reflect myself in her eyes full of tears, so I pressed her to my chest, the little one holed up there, stopping crying, finding the feeling of shelter that she was looking for so much. She wasn't hungry, she made no effort to latch on to my breast, she just sought shelter from someone with a good heart willing to hold her. Calmed the girl, I diverted my attention to the boy, who was still crying and screaming, moving convulsively.

"Shhh, baby, what's wrong honey?" I ask cradling him, the gentle undulating movement of my arm, together with the purr I make for him, calm him down, definitively. Finally the little one stops moving and crying, his tail tightened its grip on my wrist, exactly as his sister had done when she had calmed down. “They've calmed down…Hell, there really were kids in the middle of the forest then!” Jakey walked over and watched them in disbelief, as if his voice hadn't already hinted at his total astonishment. I turned to him nodding. "What are we going to do? What are such small children doing here?” Jakey asks upset. I sighed and looked carefully at the place where the little ones had been laid, hoping to understand something more. The grass under them is folded, it is not dark but still has it's natural color, I brush the tufts with my tail, not being able to do it with my hands having them busy. The blades of grass were still soft and I could feel the life still flowing through them, which means that whoever left the children here did very, very recently. There were remnants of red threads near where their little hands were, as I mentioned earlier, these remnants and the paint that covers their little bodies suggest to me that some ceremony took place, I can't say exactly which, but I don't think that has positive connotations. The Na'vi place a lot of importance on colors when it comes to painting themselves and red doesn't always have positive connotations, and the same goes for black. The targets drawn on their rib cages don't inspire me well at all. I looked around quite a few times, but there was no sign of anyone claiming them and they must have heard them as they were crying up to two minutes ago, and the crying of small children is known to be particularly deafening. I don't even think the parents are here somewhere hiding, they would have already come out to protect their children. The only hypothesis I can think of is the most terrible thing a parent can do to their children. The abandonment.

“Little sister, what are you doing?” Jakey asks me, confused about my attitude. “I'm surveying the ground, figuring out how long these little treasures have been here.” I explain. "What did you understand?" he asks, concern overwhelmingly making it's way amidst the astonishment in my brother's voice. "It seems that a ritual has been performed, I can't exactly say which ritual it is but the fact that the parents are not here doesn't tell me anything good, even the colors that have been used are not the best." I explained. "What are we doing?" he asked while he was making funny faces at the two little ones, the boy laughed, the girl unlike her brother, she didn't seem to have much desire, in fact she remained curled up on my chest. "Sorry the little girl doesn't really feel like laughing…" I smiled as I watched Jakey attempt to interact with the boy. “Anyway, you still haven't answered me, what are we going to do with these little ones? Why are they here, where are the parents?” I looked around as he asked me these questions, seeing no sign of imminent danger I looked back at my brother. "We'd better stay here and wait, maybe I was wrong and the parents will arrive soon…" I wanted to give the benefit of the doubt but the target drawn on them was an all too obvious warning of abandonment, if not something worse.

“Stop fiddling with that flashlight, Jakey, how many times do I have to tell you it attracts predators?” we waited a couple of hours, as i thought the parents didn't show up even by mistake. “But at night we can't see anything, how do we go back?” he asked as I sat cross-legged on the floor. "We're not going back, we have two very young children with us, do you think we should attract hungry predators?" I asked as I set the little ones down on the ground and began to collect a certain type of plant and weave it, after having appropriately apologized and addressed a quick prayer to the Great Mother. “And where do we keep these children? We can't sleep in a tree with them with us…Because do we take them with us, am I right?” he asked, glancing at me sideways. “But who do you take me for? Of course we take them with us, we don't leave them here!" I replied indignantly. "Sure, of course, I just wanted to be totally sure, sorry." he replied already regretting his words and his thoughts. “But how, do you know me, do you think I would abandon innocent children in the middle of a forest? The parents didn't show up and we waited for hours. The paint on their bodies makes me think a ritual of some sort has been performed, but instinct tells me it's no good. We can't leave them here." I explained as my brother sighed regretfully. “You're right, I shouldn't have even thought about it. I'm very sorry." he replied.

More minutes passed, in which I finished my creation, a carrier for babies, so I could carry them on my back and shoulders, it would be nice to have my hands free while Jakey and I kept moving to find a tree big enough to accommodate everyone. Another prayer to the Great Mother and another apology allowed me to fill the carrier with soft, absorbent musk so that the little ones would be comfortable in there. I lifted the female again, and she wrapped her tail around my wrist again as I held her to me. “I won't leave you here, little one. It's too dangerous, I'll take your brother with me too." I smiled as I cooed softly and the baby she gave a gummy toothless smile but she was so cute she was beautiful just the same. I approached and kissed her forehead, while the little girl laughed happily and snuggled against my chest. I keep her there quiet for a while, continuing to look around, until I feel something pull a strand of my hair. I smile as I turn around and discover the culprit, the little one who is having fun playing with the lock he's holding. Chuckling I leaned over to him, poking him softly with my nose, making him laugh and gurgle happily. “Are you having fun, little darling?” I asked as he continued to laugh. "Come on, we can't stay here for long, we have to find a safe place to shelter." I put the little girl in her place in the carrier and then I did the same thing with the boy, immediately after I put the carrier on my shoulders and stood up. Meanwhile my brother, blatantly ignoring everything I'd said to him, had finished and lit that damn flashlight that had gotten ruined on our way here, so he had to work on it again. “Are you okay? Are the children okay?” he asked and I turned first to the right and then to the left, their little heads resting perfectly on my shoulders, increasing the pain I feel from that wound, but it doesn't matter. I covered them with my hair so they wouldn't be noticed by any external dangers, before answering. “Yes, as you can see they are fine. Now really, put that flashlight away and put it out because…” A rustling too close and a sound like a hyena's laughter interrupted me.

A shiver ran up my spine as Jakey stood in front of me trying to protect us. The sounds were rumbling, it was clear there was more than one. “Little sister, you who have followed some training, can you tell me what these noises are? Or rather, who makes them?” I swallowed and hid the little ones further. “They're…Viperwolves. Smaller than the Thanators, but also decidedly dangerous. They look more like terrestrial canines, they are silent, fast and, worst of all…” I sigh stepping back slightly. “They hunt in packs, so if one is here…Surely the others will be there too.” My hearing and my memory hadn't deceived me, in fact several Viperwolves, just under a dozen, came out of the bushes and immediately surrounded us, this is their favorite tactic. I took a deep breath and looked around, noting that the Viperwolves in front of me didn't seem hostile, their tails wagging briskly behind them and they didn't growl, they made a sound similar to the howling of wolves or dogs. I took a step forward as I slowly extended my arm, keeping my fingers pointed at them so they know I have no weapons and no malicious intent. “Can I pet you?” I asked the closest after he cautiously sniffed my hand, he moved his head in a movement that seemed to confirm, while he looked at me curiously during the caresses. “Are you…Friendly?” I asked while others of them approached me wagging their tails more, as if eager for cuddles.

Unfortunately, things weren't going so well for my brother, he had managed to fend off a couple of them with his torch, which he had then given up to take the knife he had brought with him, starting to slash with it, wounding as many Viperwolves attempted to attack him, including a particularly small Viperwolf, he looked like a young one, who ran away whimpering. The difference between the two flanks of the pack was incredible, just as those near me were calm and affectionate, which is extremely rare for predators as skilled as they are, so much were the others rabid and hungry, willing to kill my brother and make him their dinner, but I didn't lose Tommy to let Jakey die too, I'm sorry, as hard and painful as it is for me to hurt them, I have to help Jakey defend himself. Hearing noises coming from a tree near my brother, I took a stone and turned to scan the black space where something was moving. As soon as the Viperwolf attempted an attack on my brother I threw a couple of stones at him, causing him to dismount and flee, as I threw another couple of stones at him since he had tried to attack Jakey again once he got to the ground. The Viperwolves attempted an attack all together but were stopped by a shower of arrows, which hit them in almost vital points, killing them instantly.

Jakey and I both turned towards the source of the shower of arrows and saw a Na'vi woman, perched on the branch of the tree where she stood, bow in hand and ready to strike again should any more Viperwolves approach to him or to me. I couldn't help but lose myself in observing her as she descended, always with the bow in her hand in an attack position, she had been exceptional she impressed me, being a marksman in the army I see many good shooters but she…She was something totally unseen, a perfect mix of grace and mortality, my dream when I shoot myself with an archery. Basically, perfect. I only noticed later that she was staring at me curiously, not probing, she seemed genuinely curious. I understood why only when I felt the muzzle of one of the Viperwolves press against my thigh, they hadn't run away but, on the contrary, they had holed up behind me, seeking protection. I raised my hands and then performed the greeting they exchanged between them, seeing her nod, I began to speak. “Oel ngati kameie, please don't kill these Viperwolves, they didn't attack me, they don't have to die because my brother didn't listen to me when he should have.” I said, ignoring Jakey's protests and backing away, trying to protect the Viperwolves, even though she could have killed both them and me if she wanted. The woman seemed to evaluate my every move and then waved back from her. “Oel ngati kameie, you are right, I have no intention of harming them, they can go off into the forest free.” I smiled at her gratefully. "Thank you, may the Great Mother's gaze be kind on you and your loved ones." I see her lower her bow, she doesn't want to attack me and I was happy about it, I turned to the Viperwolves who shifted their gazes from me to the woman. “You can go, boys. Sorry, I am truly sorry for the losses you have suffered. I hope you are well and can get yourself something else to eat.” The Viperwolves, as if they had understood what I had said to them, got up, let me stroke their heads one last time and disappeared into the thick jungle that surrounded us. I turned around and saw Jakey approaching me, not knowing who to look at, me or the woman who helped us.

“Jakey promise to behave yourself now?” I asked without giving him time to speak, he nodded, his mouth still open. "Perfect, so now I'm going to check on the little Viperwolf you hit with the knife, I'm going to see if it can be helped…" a hiss interrupted my speech. I looked around and noticed a fairly large Viperwolf, lying on the ground, with an obvious head wound caused by a blow, it is probably one that Jakey had hit with the flashlight before using the knife. The Na'vi woman knelt in front of me, she looked at me cautious but also curious, while I gently took the animal's head to check the wound well. "It's not fatal, luckily, I can cure it, but I need a hand…Would you be willing to give it to me?" I asked crossing the woman's eyes, she looked at me for a couple of seconds before simply nodding. “I've never seen Dreamwalkers act like you.” before I could reply, she answered my question. "Sure, I'll help you." I sighed in relief. “Thanks, I need Blue Flowers and Taxax Root.” she nodded. “I know where to find them, we will also need the leaves of that plant, they become perfect bandages.” I nod intently as I stroke the side of the creature's snout, trying to soothe him in his pain. “They would be perfect, I'll go get them.” I was about to get up but the woman's hand held me back. “Don't do it, he seems to appreciate your presence, you calm him down. I'll go get what we need." I smile at her with gratitude as I see her get up and go to get what we need, while my brother stood staring at her. If he tries to get smart with this woman I swear I'll beat him.

“Shh, it's okay…” I cooed as I heard the animal cry in pain and fright. “I know you're scared, I'm sorry…” I stroke its muzzle. "You'll be fine soon, I promise, I won't leave you alone." I smiled as I saw the woman come back with everything we needed in her hands. She knelt next to me and, with one of the leaves, I cleaned the wound while she squeezed the flowers between her hands to get the sap out, I collected some in a leaf and bandaged him while she helped me wrap it around the wound, it took us two whole leaves to heal him but together we did it. “He's fine now, but he's going to have a bit of trouble getting up. He's stunned." she said. "Do you know where it's herd has gathered? The rest alive, I mean." she looks at me and motions to the right, into the depths. "They have gathered over there, probably another member is injured but will survive. They will surely be with him." she observes as I nod, weighing my idea. "We should be able to lift him and bring him to them, in the meantime I can control the other Viperwolf, if I can help him, I'll do it gladly." she stared at me in disbelief "I never thought I'd see such a thing." she whispered but before I could ask her about it she nodded, so together we lifted the Viperwolf and carried him to the others.

Once we arrived and the put down the first wounded Viperwolf, I rushed to the cub no one attacked me, no one showed the slightest sign of aggression towards me, as if they knew in advance that I was here to help them. “It's okay…” I said putting my hands out, literally, so the bigger ones could make sure I was here with good intentions. “Can I look at your wound, little one?” I asked, he was in pain but he didn't object, at least, not at the beginning. I took advantage of this and knelt next to him, examining the wound, it was a fairly deep cut on his side. “I need the healing plants I saw on our way here…” I think aloud. "Is it curable?" the woman asks bluntly, taking her eyes off Jakey's flashlight, I swear I'll make him eat that flashlight as soon as I'm finished here. “Luckily Jakey didn't cut too deeply, something can be done to save him.” I said. “Where did you see the plants you need?” she asked as I felt her gaze pierce the back of my neck. “Right there next to you, you know? Would you bring them to me, please? Only the leaves, those are enough.” I asked her, heard her bustle and she brought me what I needed. “Irayo.” I thanked her and she was amazed, evidently she has never been explicitly thanked for anything, or she is not used to seeing Dreamwalkers thanking a Na'vi. "It's okay, honey." I hose gently towards the young Viperwolf, while I squeeze the smallest and slightly fluorescent leaves in my hands, the sap is what is needed, I spread it delicately on the wound. I hear him whining, it burns badly and he's in pain, I understand that, but I can't help but hold my breath trying not to whimper myself when I feel him biting my arm, my wrist. I also pray that Jakey doesn't do anything stupid as I hear him scream and curse at the cub, while the woman hisses at him trying to silence him. "Listen, my little one, I don't want to hurt you, I promise…" I said stroking his head, barely holding back the pain. "But it's the only way I can help you, I don't want to leave you with a wound if I can heal you." I explain and then conclude. “I believe in you, I know you're strong enough to do it! I'm sure!" I encouraged him and he, after looking at me carefully, let go of my wrist and I was able to complete the bandaging of the wound. "Perfect, you did great!" I congratulated him smiling. “Now we leave you and your pack alone…May the Great Mother bless you with a good dinner.” I smiled as I stood up, then turned around to follow the woman and my brother.

We check the others but they're dead and there's nothing I can do for them except pray, which I do and as soon as I'm done I hear Jakey speak. “Hey, thank you for what you did with those beasts…You know…Save us.” I widened my eyes and looked at him as if it was the first time I'd seen him, thank? For an act of gratuitous violence basically? Decimating a herd is not something to be proud of, they have a totally different way of looking at these things. The woman, in response, took the flashlight from his hands and turned it off, drowning it in a stream that I had not noticed before. “Hey, what have you done! We need that!" the woman hissed at him again, then turned to me. “You saved them, both. Even at the cost of being injured." she said in such perfect English that I almost fainted hearing her speak so well, I hadn't noticed before. I nod and smile at her. "Of course I saved them, I couldn't let them die, you already have too much blood on your hands because of us." I witness, she smiles for the first time as she slowly walks up to me, Jakey does the same thing, only faster as he pulls up beside me and starts examining my wrist like it's the most interesting thing he's ever seen. "You're hurt, take this." she said as she handed me one of the Taxax leaves we had taken earlier. “Do you have one more?” I ask incredulously. “Yeah, I didn't want to risk running out while you were dealing with the first Viperwolf, so I took an extra one, just to be safe. That should be enough for you, your wrist is not very big.” she ascertains by looking at it. “Irayo.” I thank her as I take the leaf and, thanks also to Jakey's help, I manage to put it around my wrist. “It was kind of you to save them. I'm happy that at least part of the herd survived." She says as she starts to walk away. Jakey, of course, started calling her and following her and I was forced to follow my brother in turn.

Here, this is chapter four, also as long as few things in the world😅. I'm sorry for keeping you waiting, but I've been busy these days too, I've done everything possible. In any case, thanks for reading and, if you like, see you in the next chapter, number five👋.

©️Floralifetime April 27-2023, please do not republish, repost, steal, modify, translate or claim my work as your own. All rights reserved.

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[caffiend-queen]

It'll Be Good For You

Chapter 2:  A Visit to the Ha-Ha Hotel

My fellow lumberjack lovers, @imanuglywombat​ has a deliriously tasty feast of lumberjack porn with some of your favorites: Lumberjack Bucky, Lumberjack Thor, Lumberjack Steve... put on your favorite plaid shirt and get to reading!!

PS: thank you to @imanuglywombat​ for coining the phrase “lumberjack Steve.”

Previous chapter here

In which Aura takes a run. Who knew that fresh air and exercise could create such wild dreams?

It took you the rest of the night to unpack everything and get settled, and the sun was starting to appear over the pines and into your windows when you pulled out the last item, your laptop. You carefully put it on the table you’d dragged into the main room and positioned by the windows. Pulling out pads of paper for notes and extra pencils to put in a cup. Stood back and looked at everything. Rearranged the laptop. Sat down at the table. And put your head in your shaking hands. “What am I going to do?” you whispered, “What if I can’t do this anymore?” Your reflection didn’t have anything to offer you, so you sighed and went to bed.

Your sleep was disturbed and fretful, the way it had been since the letters started a year ago. You woke up at every new creak and squeak in the cabin, including once when it sounded like footsteps ascending the stairs. You tumbled out of bed for that one, crouching by the bed and scrabbling for the handgun you’d stashed in a holster in the bed frame. By the time you had it in your trembling grasp, you felt like an idiot. “Great,” running a hand through your hair, “perfect. If that had been a break-in he would have been in here and stabbed me by the time I fell off the bed. Impressive reaction time, girl. Really.” Carefully pulling out the clip and making sure there wasn’t a round chambered, you replaced the weapon and stood up. It was late afternoon, based on how the light slanted through the trees outside.

"Might as well get moving," you said, in a voice so sulky that it annoyed even you. Still, after an aggressively intense cup of coffee, you were alert and ready to run. You'd started on the advice of a therapist you'd seen twice who was very adamant about the benefits of exercise. While running had definitely been a good idea, her optimistic chirpiness got on your nerves to the point that you decided to keep running but fire her.

The sun was making its leisurely way toward the horizon when your sneakered feet hit the groomed dirt trail leading back to the main road. Until you knew the area better, it seemed like a good idea to stay with what you knew. “Okay,” you admitted, panting, “this could be pretty good here. I could like this. The air was cool, even for July as the evening light threw the ferns and trees into a sharper focus. You heard the occasional rustle from the underbrush and smiled. “Bunnies? I’ll bet it’s bunnies. Do they have rabbits this high up?” To be honest, having lived in sea-level Seattle for so long, the high altitude was forcing you to drag in more air, trying to get more oxygen. To your dismay, you could only run a mile or so before you had to slow to a walk, hands on hips as you breathed deeply. You turned and started heading back to the cabin, it was getting dark enough that you weren’t comfortable with being too far away. “Wait.” You stopped, turning around. “This is the right path, I just turned and came back the same way.” You turned around again. “Right?” You hated that uncertain tone. That weakness. You’d always been proudly independent before the letters started. Your parents gave you that, at least, by ignoring you. “Well, damnit…” You tried to regulate your breathing, pace yourself. “No panic attack, Aura!” Lecturing yourself sometimes worked. “Suck it up! You’re fine!”

“What are you doing here?”

You let out a full-throated scream and whirled around to see… Of course. Of course, it would be that hot-looking dolt of a handyman. “I’m, well damnit I’m lost, Steve!” you snapped, hand on your chest and feeling like a complete idiot. He was standing there, blocking the path with his arms folded - those biceps, they were big enough for their own zip code, you thought mistily - over his broad chest. He was wearing those perfectly-fitting jeans and another plaid shirt. His expression was not welcoming. He was standing by his battered truck, parked in front of a cabin smaller than yours, but still beautifully designed. He even had flowers blooming in the front yard and some fragrant smelling wood burning in his fireplace.

“How did you get three miles from your cabin, cross-country and not be clear about the way back? These cabins may be fancy, but this is still the wilderness. You can get hurt.”

You stepped back, shaking your head. “Three miles cross-country? No, I just … I was on the road, and-”

Steve looked at you briefly and then at the night sky. “It’s too dark to walk back now.” He gave an irritable sigh and you watched, transfixed as that gigantic chest moved up and down. “Get in the truck. I’ll drive you.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” you said, “just point me in the direction of the cabin and-”

“It’s nighttime and you’re going to get lost,” he said crisply. “Get in the truck.”

So, you did.

The ride back to your place was silent, you were trying to memorize the way and wrestle with your confusion at the same time. How could you have possibly gone as far as three miles? And you never left the road. But one side glance at his impassive face told you Steve wouldn’t give a rat’s rectum about your certainty that you weren’t lost. The mist was rising slightly, hovering over the ferns and lower bushes and everything looked a little eerie, unearthly. Pulling up to your cabin, he rested a muscled forearm on his steering wheel. “You have GPS on your phone?” he asked, still not looking at you.

“Yes?”

He extended a hand the size of a dinner plate. “Give it to me.” When you put your phone in his palm, he briskly entered the coordinates of your cabin and dropped a pin. “You’re lucky the mountain has cell coverage,” he said sternly, “the owner put in a cell tower so none of the residents would have to risk being without wifi for a single second.”

“Why Mr. Rogers, you almost sound like you’re capable of sarcasm, this is an exciting development.” You knew the second it was out of your mouth that your relationship with the handyman had not progressed to the stage where lighthearted quips would be appropriate. Actually, there wasn’t a time in your relationship that you could ever imagine that would be welcome.

Steve slapped the phone back into your hand. “Go.”

So, you did.

Back in front of your laptop…

You paced back and forth, staring at it, then plopping down with the intention of genius flying out of the tips of your fingers and onto the monitor, and then… didn’t. “This is it,” you moaned, “I’m screwed. I’m never going to write again and I’m going to die alone, homeless, and in a dumpster and my parents will be right!” Of all these nightmare scenarios, your parents being right was the worst, and you sat down again, determined to write something. Anything. Your phone rang. “Oh, thank god,” you mumbled and seized it eagerly. “Hello?”

“Well you sound cheerful,” your agent said warmly, “that’s great. Settling in already?”

“Oh, hey James,” you struggled to keep the smile on your face because you just knew the next words out of his mouth would be-

“Have you been writing, Aura? Even some practice paragraphs?”

“No, Dad,” you snarled, “I’ve been busy unpacking and getting lost in the middle of the forest and-”

“What?” his voice sharpened, “You got lost?”

“Well,” you shrugged, “that’s what the irascible handyman says, but-”

“Do I hear a hint of interest here?” James teased you, “My assistant did say he looked like a lumberjack model when she video conferenced him last week. Maybe a little inspiration for your new book?”

“What, seriously?” you cried, aghast, “The man is a total dick!”

“Fine.”

You could hear his long-suffering sigh, which of course made you immediately guilty. Even if James was unbearably pushy, he’d taken care of you, and the police, and security when the letters started. “James, have there been any more of… you know. The letters and stuff? Pictures?”

He was silent for a moment and you wished you were Facetiming so you could see his expression. “We don’t have to go there, Aura. Look, you’re safe and in a place that no one on this planet - aside from me well, and my assistant - knows where you are. You don’t even need to think about that psycho. You can concentrate on your writing and do what makes you happy. Are you still running?”

“Yes.” God, you knew you sounded sulky and childish.

“Good! Good,” he said cheerfully, “tell you what. Just send me, I don’t know, a couple of chapters about living in the woods. Like Thoreau in Walden, right?”

You smiled in spite of your … well ... your spite. “Yeah, I can do that.” Hesitating, you blurted, “Thank you James, seriously. You take really good care of me, better than you’re paid for, certainly.”

“Hey,” you could hear his concern, which made you feel both better and needy. “You know that I care about you, right? Not just as a client, but a good person. A talented writer. A-”

“I get it!” you laughed. “Thank you. Have a good night.”

“Don’t forget my paragraphs!” he shouted as you hung up.

Your sleep was fragmented again. You'd stubbornly stayed up until nearly the dawn, a night owl now, just like Steve Rogers, Handyman, Sex God and Kind of a Dick. The dreams were vivid.

You were sitting next to the fire pit in front of your cabin, settled into one of the big, comfortable chairs and enjoying the flames.

“What’s in the letters?” Steve was across from you, shirtless and lounging in a chair like he belonged there, holding a beer. His gaze held yours as he took a sip from the bottle.

“What- how do you know about them?” You cringed, feeling exposed all over again. The Fragile Author. The Nervous Breakdown.

His eyes were glowing again, like reflecting off the moonlight and all you could do was watch them, fascinated. A clear, perfect blue like the lake you’d passed on the way up the mountain. "I know everything," Steve said, his bearded face softening just slightly. “Tell me.”

Why couldn’t you tell him to go to hell? To go fix something? To get out of your fire pit and stop drinking your beer? “There’s a man. He wants to kill me,” you said finally. Reluctant to make someone else look at you like you were a victim.

You watched a muscle tick under his beautiful cheekbone, but his expression stayed calm. “Go on, honey,” Steve’s tone was oddly kind, one you’d definitely never heard before.

“Oh, um…” You were holding a glass of wine in the dream and you took a gulp. Wow, you could feel the tannins and the sweet bite of blackberries from the vintage. This was a vivid dream. “The letters started about a year ago, last May, actually. The first one was just the standard fan mail, ‘I love your books,’ blah, blah, blah.” You took another swallow of wine to give yourself time. “But the thing with the letter? This guy writes, ‘You’re just as pretty as a picture.’ Except…” you drank deeply from your wine glass. “Except he’s attached a picture. A real one.”

Steve’s still watching you, unblinking. God, his eyes really are insanely blue. “Go on, Aura.”

“That’s the first time you’ve said my name,” you add, apropos of nothing. “So, anyway. The picture is of me. From the day before, sitting in a cafe where I used to write a lot. They’d keep my mug full of coffee- it was so big they used to joke and call it the ‘toilet bowl,’ but anyway…” Clearing your throat, you tried to forget all the pictures that came after this one. “He wrote, ‘your coffee cup’s so big I could drown you in it, but I won’t. I’m going to cut you up like a sow and bleed you out like one.”

You didn’t even see him move, but suddenly you were straddling Steve’s legs and his long arms were wrapped around you, rocking slightly as he crooned to you. He would kiss your cheek, or an eyelid, then rock you some more. And he never let go, that tight, comforting embrace. “My poor girl,” he soothed, the sweet words sounding oddly shaped from his stern mouth. “My sweet girl,” Steve purred, “I’ll take care of you. I won’t let anyone hurt you, I promise.”

Despite the fact that this was a dream and really, why were you trying to clarify this to a dream guy, you said, “No, I won’t- look. I trained in self-defense and handling guns for this reason. I don’t want anyone getting hurt because of me.”

He was running his fingers over the sweep of your shoulder, which was bare, you noticed. The rough pads of his fingertips were from a man who worked with his hands. They felt oddly good, rasping over your smooth skin. “Is this why you stay up all night?” Steve whispered, leaning in to run his tongue along the tight, anxious tendon in your neck that always gave you headaches. His tongue was wonderfully cool and soothing.

“Yes,” you groaned as the sweep of his tongue ended in a little nip, right where your jawline met your neck. “Oh! God, that’s so good…” His hands were moving, one cupping your - surprise! - bare ass and the other gently stroking a line over your collarbones, almost metronomic. Back and forth, back and forth as he sweetly kissed your mouth. “I st- stay up so I can see him coming. He’ll sneak up on me in the dark, you know. For a while… oh…” The giant holding you as gently as a doll was running the tip of his chilly tongue up the long line of your throat. “F- for a while I didn’t sleep at all. I kept drinking coffee and staying awake and then I didn’t even take catnaps any more. I didn’t sleep for like a couple of weeks and I guess I was screaming a lot because my neighbors called the police and I woke up in the Ha-Ha Hotel.”

“The what?” His hand was gently squeezing your bottom and the other slid down to join it, but in the front, dipping into your underwear, which was apparently all your Dream Self had chosen to don for this engagement.

You pulled back, fingers smoothing his neatly trimmed beard. It was much softer than it looked. “The Psych Ward. Well, it was called the Swedish Behavioral Health Center, but since they locked me in my room and all the gardens were surrounded by walls with barbed wire, I’m pretty sure it was a nuthouse.”

“Don’t call it that,” Steve’s mouth was over your own for a long, wonderfully lazy moment as his full, pink lips explored your own, slipping his tongue in and out of your mouth. “You’re not crazy. You had a good reason to be terrified. And you got out. And you’re here.”

“My parents were called, I guess. Some busybody shrink recognized my last name and called them. They wouldn’t come, of course. My mother … oh, god!” The man’s long fingers had found your clit and he was carefully exploring it, pulling back the little flesh covering it and stroking up and down, circling it and then circling the entrance to your passage.

His fingers came up to slip in your mouth. “Make them wet, sweet girl.” Your eyes closed as your suckled them, your tongue exploring along the thick digits pressed between your lips. When he pulled them from you, you whined a little bit, making him chuckle. Which unfortunately pushed the hard length of his jean-covered cock against your embarrassingly wet center. Steve slid one finger inside you, and then another as you yelped, nails digging unconsciously into the golden skin of his shoulders.

“My mother, she uh…” you shivered as his fingers tunneled into you, stroking and searching for sensitive spots, pausing when you stiffened, or moaned. “She told me they were disgusted with me. She told me not to call again until I did something to be proud of.”

Steve's fingers never stopped moving, even when the big hand planted on your ass began gently pushing you against his erection again, the rough denim material rubbing your aching clit so well, your swelling lips parting for the length of him, even covered up. “Your parents are worthless,” he promised, kissing your denials right out of your mouth. “You are brave and perfect, and I’m going to fuck you until you agree with me. But not tonight.” He laughed when you whined in protest, cringing as the noise came out of your mouth. “Oh, you’re still coming, sweetheart. Don’t worry about that.” His fingers were moving faster inside you, his hand on your waist now, moving your hips and driving you into the now-wet crotch of his Levi’s. “Ask me nicely, now. Ask for your orgasm and I’ll give it to you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, sweet girl? Such a good, good girl, aren’t you.”

“I don’t…” you were moving your hips along with the urging of his hand, scooping low to rub against his cock, then rising up slightly to feel his fingers play inside you. God, they were so long, and thick! It already felt like his cock was inside you, stretching and pulling in a way that burned and stung, but it felt so good. And you hadn’t felt good in a long time.

“Shhh,” Steve’s voice was a bit hoarse, and you felt vaguely pleased with yourself for pulling him out of the stern demeanor he always used on you. “Be my good girl now and come.” His fingers twisted oddly and pushed higher inside you, higher than anything you thought could go inside your cunt but then your back arched and your nails dug deeper into his shoulders and you were coming - oh, my god it was so good and such a relief and you couldn’t think of a single thing but how good he made your feel and… There was a sharp pain on your breast, your nipple actually, and it almost startles you out of your orgasm but it was probably just Steve sucking on you too hard because it made you gasp and come again. You never liked pain. You’d been in pain too many times to find it sexy but this time … you asked for it. You begged him to suckle you harder and wailed like a freaking bobcat when his calloused thumb pressed down hard on your clit…

When you blearily opened your eyes, the light was slanting over the pines again, outside your window. You’d slept through most of the day. A good day’s sleep. Cautiously feeling yourself, you were dressed in your usual tank top and sleep shorts. There was no sticky come or bruises or bites or hickeys. Staring at yourself in the bedroom mirror, looking for evidence of the night before, of that wild dream, you found nothing.

“Maybe I am crazy,” you said.

Next Chapter Here...

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[queenbirbs]

the mountain between us | Ethan x MC

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC (Sloane McTavish)

Rating: E

Warnings: language, adult content, N*FW, description of a panic attack

Word count: 8.1k

Summary: In which the return to Edenbrook doesn’t go as planned, or: Ethan and Sloane get the hell out of Dodge Boston. 

Notes: This story continues off my previous fic, waiting for rain , although this can be read as a stand-alone. It is a sort of AU of chapter 12, in which Danny has a separate funeral of his own (I mean, I get why PB wrote it to save time/redundancies, but I don’t see them somehow managing to secure burial plots right next to each other? Anyway, the wonders of fiction aside…). 

------

She makes it to the diagnostic office with two seconds to spare. 

The muffled thump of the door meeting the casing is like a gunshot, echoing in the quiet room. She stumbles past the table and over to the couch, trying to get out of direct line of sight. The leather creaks under her weight as she collapses onto the cushion. That constant undercurrent of dread builds into a wave, washing over her. Her hands start to shake and soon, the rest of her body follows suit. The faux-wood grain of the coffee table before her is the only thing in focus; the rest of the world is warped, as if she’s viewing it through binoculars. Her heart feels as if someone has a fist around it and is trying to pull it free through her throat. 

“Stop… fucking… crying,” she hisses, wiping furiously at her cheeks. But her lacrimal glands pay no mind to her threats, nor does the rest of her when she begs it to stop panicking. 

All this, she bemoans, over plastic wrap -- just a patient’s sandwich that he asked for her help unwrapping. But the moment she touched it and felt it crinkle under her hands, she was back in that tented room, shrouded by the thick plastic draped over the walls, sealed in and suffocated by the opaque sheeting, waiting and waiting and waiting to die.

She doesn’t remember what terrible joke she made about not being a fan of tuna, nor does she remember the trip from the oncology ward to here, several floors down. None of her friends must have seen her, because none of them have followed her in here, at the ready with their hugs and assurances, suffocating in their own loving way.

“You’re the worst… person on earth,” she whispers, clenching her jaw in an effort to stave off another round of tears.

“Sloane?” 

She glances up to see Ethan stepping into the room, his mouth crumpled into that familiar frown of worry -- the one he’s worn ever since she returned. He says her name like it’s a question, as if she has the option to shake her head no and become someone else. It’s a tempting idea. Her reply is at the ready, as natural as breathing now. Not that she’s doing a very good job of doing the latter.

“I’m fine.” 

“I see that.” Though the words should be harsh, his tone is anything but -- weighed down by all the concern in the world, it seems. His gaze roves over her, observing and diagnosing her like the specimen she is, walking through Edenbrook’s halls once more. “You’re having a panic attack,” he says, more to himself than to her.

“Correction: my second. First was in the supply closet. Decided I wanted a change of scenery.” 

Although it’s a struggle to get the words out, her audience doesn’t seem to appreciate the joke.

“Do you want me to sit with you?” he asks.

“Please.” The plea is whispered into her clasped hands. She tightens her grip, trying in vain to stop the tremors working through her. 

Ethan crosses the room and takes a seat next to her, giving her the illusion of space by twisting at the waist to look at her. In blocking her view of the hallway, he also blocks them from seeing her. His hand comes to rest on the space between them, a show of support that doesn’t make her feel crowded or trapped. She could kiss him right now, if it weren’t for the whole world-feeling-like-it’s-falling-out-from-underneath-her sensation. Her lungs ache with each choppy, shallow breath she drags in. 

“I’m here. You’re safe with me.” 

Untangling her laced hands, she reaches down and rests her hand atop his. With a gentle motion, his fingers shift to nestle alongside hers, grounding her with the pleasant warmth of his touch. With her eyes closed, she focuses on the smooth breaths he takes, mimicking them as best she can. Seconds turn to minutes, marked only by his murmured phrases of assurance and his pulse, sure and steady under her palm. Gradually, her breath begins to ebb and flow, rolling in and out of her lungs in languid sweeps. 

She opens her eyes. The office fades into focus. The track lighting is still too bright, so she turns to Ethan. The sympathy welling in his eyes almost makes her want to shut hers again. His gaze tracks over her in a fitful dance; he’s mapping out each tear that stains her cheeks and neck.  

“I’m okay,” she tries this time. 

His eyebrows scrunch down as he studies her. 

“No, you’re not.”

“Okay, fine, I’m not.” Sloane leans forward and rubs at her cheeks. If she puts her hair down, she could maybe make it to the bathroom and wash away the evidence before a staff member notices. “Have you thought any more about Aurora’s proposal?”

“The one you two dropped on me at the private memorial we had on Tuesday morning? No, I can’t say that I have.” Shaking his head, he pinches at the bridge of his nose and sighs. “God, Sloane, I don’t want to talk about the hospital. I don’t give a damn about it right now. I only care about you.” 

The cushion creaks as she shifts, uncertain how to drive the conversation away from her. She goes with the best tactic: avoidance. 

“Well, thanks, then. But I should go. I’ve wasted enough time as it is. I’ve got to pick up some labs and check up on Mr. Evans and see what Baz wanted from--” 

Ethan puts his hand on her shoulder and squeezes, once, then again. 

“Stop. Stop worrying about everybody else for a second.”

She snorts out a humorless laugh at that. “I’m serious,” he continues, pressing on her shoulder and urging her to look at him. “I know that you practically begged Naveen to let you come back to work, even after I told you no, but I think you need to give yourself more time. I think you pushed yourself too hard.”

“I was stuck here for three days, and then stuck at home for another four. I’m done waiting around. I can only take so much medical leave. And I can’t just… sit at home cowering in fear.”

“So you thought doing it at work would be better?” he asks candidly.

“Fuck you.” 

Sloane jumps to her feet and rounds the table, leaving him to throw his pity party for her all by himself -- then freezes. Outside the glass walls, the hallway is teeming with people. Nurses and orderlies and patients mill about, pushing gurneys and cleaning carts and wheelchairs. Several nurses at the station spot her and then, like marionettes on shared strings, turn towards each other at once, their chins tipped low as they converse. She feels like a zoo animal, on display for the hospital to ogle at. 

“Go home, Sloane,” comes Ethan’s voice from behind her. His footsteps drag across the rug as he approaches. “For another day or two, at least. Please.”

She turns from the hallway and brings her arms around her chest to hug herself tight. 

“I… it’s no walk in the park there, either. Being there alone is frightening enough, but when everybody’s home, they walk on eggshells around me. Even Jackie, who I can always count on to be a certified bitch, has been coddling me. It’s... I hate being home. It’s like they’re too afraid to say something that might -- I don’t know, offend me? -- so they don’t say anything at all. It’s like living with a ghost, except I’m Bruce Willis in this scenario.” She stops short, figuring she’ll have to explain that one, but he holds up his palm to keep the synopsis at bay. 

“I understand your reference. You know, I have seen a film or two.” 

“Coulda fooled me.” 

She tries for the usual smile that wants to form when making fun of his limited pop culture knowledge. Her bravado falls away, though, as he comes to stand close to her. His arms cross over his chest, as if attempting to keep his hands to himself in front of their audience. “You know what it was like for me,” she continues, “being in that room, doing nothing--”

He cuts her off, his blue eyes suddenly ablaze.

“That isn’t what I saw. You stood by Rafael’s side. You helped him when you yourself couldn’t walk without falling over. You lost every semblance of control during the worst moment of your life, and you still were able to relay the changes in your symptoms. You saved Rafael’s life--”

“That was all Tobias and the team’s--”

“You know as well as I do that patient care is more than an antidote in a syringe. You think that if we’d stuck him in a room alone, away from you, or inside one of those glass boxes that he would still be alive? Think again, Rookie.” 

The passion and heat in his voice, along with the return of her nickname, sends a tingle up the length of her spine. “I watched you struggle to be by his side. I watched you have all your faculties ripped away. Which is why I’m so worried that you’re pushing yourself too hard.”

“Ethan--” she starts, but he barrels right over the deflection attempt.

“If you had a patient who was experiencing the same symptoms at work, would you tell them to get over it? Would you tell them to push past their fears and their anxieties, in order to stay on the clock?” 

Her lips purse at his point, knowing that he’s right. But she doesn’t want to let him win this one.

“Doctors do a lot of things they tell their patients not to. We’re the biggest hypocrites of them all.”

“No, I think that honor falls on politicians,” he quips.  

The little laugh feels foreign in her mouth. She can’t help but notice the way his eyes light up in response to the noise. 

“I have an idea.” She raises a brow in interest, spurring him on. “Let me take you somewhere. Anywhere you’d like. We can leave today, spend a long weekend away. We’ll swing by your place, pack you a bag, and go.”

“And you think we can just… leave? Slack off on our duties like that? What about our patients?”

The corner of his mouth hitches up in a smirk. 

“You’re talking to the person who does the scheduling. And I happen to know your boss wouldn’t mind. My boss has been not-so-subtly sending me couples vacation rentals after seeing our appearance on national television.” 

Taking a deep breath, Sloane considers the offer as he watches her, not an ounce of hesitation on his face. That tingling sensation returns, banking higher and higher within her. 

“Okay,” she agrees, hating how her heart beats a little faster at the brilliant smile on his face. “I like the way you think. Let’s go.”

------

Within two hours, they load up Ethan’s car and make their way out of Boston, Jenner wiggling happily in the backseat. 

The city center gives way to the urban sprawl. That soon becomes overtaken by suburbia and its penchant for shopping outlets and tract housing. Sloane can’t help the sigh of relief that comes when they reach Medford and the city skyline drops away in the rearview. They leave the coastal lowlands of Massachusetts behind, heading north along the interstate and up into New Hampshire. Though she packed a bag with what little information he gave her, she’s curious still when they stop at a food truck for lunch. 

“You realize you could hit the navigation screen on the GPS, right?” Ethan points out. “It’ll tell you exactly where we’re going.” 

“That’s cheating. I thought you taught me to be a better doctor than that.”

“No, I taught you how to be a smarter doctor. Besides, you’re the one knowledgeable about technology.” When she doesn’t immediately outright ask, he settles back in his chair and pets Jenner when she approaches for attention. “All right, then. Diagnose it.”

Sloane’s fork pauses on its way to her mouth. She shoots him an incredulous look, but when he simply cocks an eyebrow, she takes the bait. 

“We’re headed north. At first, I thought Maine, especially with what you suggested I bring, but we’ve gone too far west now. It wouldn’t make any sense to make a big right turn and head east. And we’re not going as far as Canada, because you didn’t tell me to bring my passport -- which I do have, by the way, though I’ve only gotten to use it one time.”

“I know,” he tells her. “There’s several photos of your semester abroad on your Pictagram page.” 

“Those photos are from my senior year of undergrad. That means you scrolled for quite a while, Dr. Ramsey.” It’s impossible to miss the blush burning along his cheeks and up his ears. Sloane tips her head to the side, eyes wide, her words teasing: “Were you that interested in Stockholm?”

“It’s a lovely city.” 

That thick, bottom lip of his ticks up in a grin. The little cafe suddenly feels too warm for her, but she resists the urge to tug at her sweater.

“Right. So, not Canada. I have to admit, I’m not well-versed in what New Hampshire or Vermont have to offer, other than maple syrup and hiking. Ooh, and Ben and Jerry’s.” Twirling her straw wrapper around her finger, she looks him over for another minute before giving up with a shrug. “Nope, I’ve got nothin’.”

“Some dedicated physician you are.” 

His grin widens as the balled-up wrapper hits his chest. 

------

They leave the interstate behind after entering Vermont.

Instead, the state highway takes them through the proper countryside. When the satellite radio fails to connect, Sloane steals the aux cord and plugs in her phone. Ethan’s protests quiet down soon enough when, instead of the pop drivel he expects, Nat King Cole croons out of the speakers. 

The Taconic mountains roll along beside them, as if shielding them from the outside world; Sloane appreciates the gesture. Clusters of horses and cattle float along in their fenced-in pastures, the grass rippling under a light wind blowing off the mountains. Towns seem to sneak up on them as the road curves through the valley. Tiny stores and tiny gas stations and tiny churches, Johnson’s Hardware and Morgan’s Jewelry and Lee’s Drugstore line up along the roadside. Hanging signs advertise berry farms and local maple syrup, their arrows pointing up into the hills. Then the highway curves again, and the towns disappear from the rearview. 

Sloane watches it all from her reclined position against the center console, her hand in Ethan’s as he drives. Jenner’s wet nose bumps against her cheek when the Boxer mix demands affection. Though they swore off it back in Massachusetts, they talk about work, which leads them to medical articles, which leads them to the inaccuracies in medical dramas. Serenading about her need for a Sunday kind of love, Etta James joins them as they cross into New York. 

It doesn’t take too long before the feminine voice of the GPS announces that they’ve arrived. Sloane does a double-take at the welcome sign as they pass it. 

“Wait -- isn’t this where that horror movie was set?” she asks. 

“The film took place in Maine, actually.”

“How are you suddenly an expert on horror movies from the late nineties? And how did I not know that? Did I finally find your film niche?” 

“My friend forced me to attend his Halloween party in high school,” he admits with a sigh. 

They pass by the shops and bars and restaurants that line Main Street, all the brick facades and rugged decor blocking the view. Locals and fellow tourists clog the sidewalks, meandering in and out of the storefronts as they enjoy the afternoon sunshine. Eventually, the buildings fall away, and the world is filled with nothing but a cloudless sky and clear water that stretches wide beyond the guardrail. Just over a stretch of land, Lake Placid burns a deep blue in the sunlight.

Sloane keeps her eyes on the sights, but shifts her attention back to the man in the driver’s seat.

“Okay, now I have to know: what was your costume?” 

“A doctor,” he says, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. 

She chuckles at the image of a teenage Ethan in his white coat and his patterned tie, swimming in his tailored shirts and trousers, lecturing his friends on the risks of alcohol poisoning.  

“Oh my god, of course you did. Did you at least dump fake blood on yourself or something?”

“No.” His brow crinkles as he glances over at her, confused. “Why would I have done that?”

“To look scary.”

A smirk appears on his face at the idea. “Right. And what did you dress up as when you were sixteen?”

“I’m pretty sure I went as Daphne. My girlfriend Ruby went as Velma.”

“What, you didn’t douse yourself with fake blood?”

“Honestly, we should have. That would’ve looked badass.”  

Ethan shakes his head at her, but she can see that smirk of his hasn’t disappeared. Turning off the main drag, he takes them down a one-lane road that winds back into the wilderness. After passing the town lodge, the occasional driveway and accompanying mailbox are the only signs of human life among the towering pines.

The house is tucked back off the road, a pretty little cottage painted robin’s egg blue. Two rocking chairs frame either side of the front door. Once Sloane releases her, Jenner darts out and takes full advantage of the lush front lawn, sniffing along the shrubs and tree line. Leaving Jenner to her exploring, Ethan hauls in their bags with Sloane following behind. The rustic decor leans too far towards kitschy for both of them, but she finds the log bed frame and large, dramatic painting of a howling wolf charming. The real draw, though, is the wide back deck, where the sea of trees parts to offer a stunning view of the lake. 

It’s the perfect place, she decides later while sipping from her second glass of scotch, to watch the sunset. From his position, Ethan seems to agree. His arms are wrapped around her waist as they spread out across the porch swing. Bundled up in scarves and blankets to ward off the evening chill, they watch the sky turn from blue to orange to black. The stars, when they fade into view, are thrown into sharp relief against the night. It’s almost dizzying to be able to see so many. 

It reminds her of back home, of lying on Ruby’s hood in her grandparents’ driveway under the pretense of looking for falling stars, but actually making out under the cover of darkness. 

Curled up atop their feet, Jenner sighs in her sleep; Sloane mimics the noise, stretching out against Ethan. Her eyes flutter closed at the sensation of his lips against her temple.  

“Do you remember the Stevensons’ house down in North Quincy?” he asks, continuing before she can respond, because he knows that she doesn’t forget a patient. “This place reminds me of that. But the desire for peace and solitude makes a lot more sense to me, now.”

She shifts in his arms to rest her cheek against his shoulder. 

“It reminds me of where I grew up, in this one-horse town in Virginia.” It’s a detour of the conversation he wants to have, but she can’t help but avoid talking about That for just a little while longer. “I mean, really, a real hole-in-the-wall kind of place. My grandparents lived there for sixty years, though, so that was home. When I was nine, my mom dropped me and my brother off at their house and never came back. So, it became our home, too. They took us in and let us have the run of the land -- which was easy to do, since we were surrounded on all sides by mountains. I was happy there -- happier than I’d been with my mom. But I spent a lot of time daydreaming about living in the big city, going to all the college parties that I saw on television, and travelling the world.” 

His grip tightens around her. “And then you didn’t,” he murmurs. 

“No, I didn’t,” is all she says, knowing he’s replaying her deathbed confession in his head, just as she is. “Though I blame that more on becoming infatuated with this diagnostician who wrote all these amazing books, and who inspired me to go to medical school and one day become one of the country’s greatest doctors.”

“What do you mean?” At her hum of confusion, he clarifies. “You already are, Sloane.” 

Tears spring to her eyes at his declaration, but she hides them by burrowing closer into his warmth. 

“But yeah, despite growing up in the middle of nowhere, it’s nice to be there again. I mean, you can’t get views like this back in Boston.” She waves a hand towards the thick spread of stars above them.  

“Your file didn’t list your grandparents as contacts.”

The invitation to talk about her past lies in the proverbial space between them; she takes it.  

“They passed within a few months of each other when I was seventeen. They left what little they had to me and my brother, and I used that to get to college.” 

She tells him about the farmhouse and how it would become so big and lonely; and the vintage, rose-patterned sofas that would collect dust; and the little kitchen at the back that would never smell of fresh coffee and banana bread again. 

She doesn’t tell him about how it felt like being abandoned all over again. 

Time has healed the wound’s edges, but it flares to life on occasion. Over the years, she’s learned to sit with the grief, to take long moments to study it and inspect it and move through it. It’s how she knows, despite the horrific tragedy at Edenbrook, that she’ll be okay. Maybe not right now, or next week, or next month, but someday. 

From inside, muffled through the French doors, comes Gladys Knight singing about life’s ups and downs. Sloane closes her eyes, focusing on the song and on the steady brush of Ethan’s thumb as he strokes her arm. Across the dark expanse of the woods, a whippoorwill calls out, its warble echoing off the water. 

At some point, she stirs to the sensation of movement, of warm lines of pressure along her back and behind her knees. Ethan is talking to Jenner in that low, gravelly voice of his, as if trying not to wake her. Before she can tease him for it, the blanket of sleep wraps around her once more. 

------

After a lengthy argument on staying in bed versus exploring the town, Ethan takes the loss with a surprising amount of grace. 

Oh, he grumbles a bit as he tugs on his sweater and makes several comments on how proper vacation etiquette does not include rising before nine a.m. But once she gets him downtown to the farmer’s market and gives him the task of finding the ugliest souvenir for her to give to her roommates, he perks right up. 

Under a stretch of white tents, card tables are laden with wares and plants and produce. Buckets of brightly-colored croton and chrysanthemums flare against the white tablecloths. Necklaces, fishing lures, and welded sculptures glint, swing, and jingle, catching the attention of passers-by. Wines and cheeses and honey are bottled and wrapped and canned, their labels touting how local, how fresh, how organic they are. From somewhere along the thoroughfare comes the smell of hot apple cider as it drifts between the stalls. 

Sloane is marveling at a collection of wind chimes that she has no use for whatsoever when she feels a hand settle on her lower back.  

“I found it.” There’s a strange sense of pride in his voice as he lifts a nondescript, brown paper bag up for emphasis. Jenner knocks her body into his legs, as if reminding him of her role in the game. “Alright, well, technically Jenner did.” 

“What is it?”

“As per your request, the most hideous object known to mankind.”

“I don’t think I was that--”

“Fine,” he concedes, “known to this region -- or state, at the very least.” 

Out from the Lake Placid News’s crumpled pages comes a tankard of a coffee mug with Don’t confuse your GOOGLE search with my Medical Degree! printed along the side. Then, stamped underneath as if an afterthought: Adirondack Mountains, NY. Sloane stares at it with a sort of horrified amazement. 

“It’s…” she trails off, unable to form words. 

“I know,” Ethan agrees, turning the mug around to read over it again. Looped around his wrist is another smaller bag.

“What else did you get?” 

“That one’s a surprise.”

Jostling the tote bag on her shoulder, she gestures to the cork sticking out. “I bought us some wine to go with dinner. C’mon, show me what you bought.” It may sound like she’s whining, but she’s not. 

“Are you unaware of how surprises work?” he questions, raising a brow at her insistence. 

“Okay, fine.” She lets the topic slide, grinning and rolling her eyes at his desire for secrecy.

Reaching towards him, he answers in kind by sliding his arm through hers. They spend the rest of the morning strolling through the stalls together. He buys a nice bottle of bourbon for Naveen; she buys a little box of self-care items for Sienna. When Sloane comments to the shop owner on the pretty photo printed around the candle, he mentions that it’s his own photograph of a nearby trail. 

“It’s a short hike, no more than three miles roundtrip,” Terry tells them as he wraps up her gift. “You pass Lake Placid Lodge and keep going about four, four ‘n a half miles, and the trail is at the end of the road. You can’t miss it.” 

------

Terry was right. 

It’s impossible to miss the trail, given that four-hundred feet past their cottage, the road dead ends in a gravel semi-circle. Two boulders and a single post mark the trailhead: Kiver Mountain, 1.4 miles. After dropping off their purchases and changing into more terrain-friendly shoes, they set off on foot from the cottage.  

Despite autumn’s grip on the foliage above, the last vestiges of late summer remain on the forest floor. Thick, leafy undergrowth makes the trees appear as if swimming in a downy sea of green. The hike’s elevation gain is slow and steady, which Sloane is grateful for, considering that eighty percent of her exercise comes in the form of running up and down hospital hallways. The other twenty percent is spent with ‘the boys’ in their dungeon gym that hasn’t seen the wet side of a paint roller since the Clinton administration. The views there, however, certainly make up for the lack of decor.  

It’s the same view she’s enjoying now, what with Ethan in front of her. There is something to be said about wearing the proper apparel for such an activity, she’s finding.

“Sloane?” 

Her gaze shoots up just as Ethan twists to look over his shoulder. “Were you listening?”

“No, sorry, I was--” she fumbles for something to say. The altitude must be getting to her, she reasons, because the next words out of her mouth were about to be ‘staring at your ass.’ “--um, I thought I saw a… snake.”

“They’re usually more afraid of you than you are of them.”

“You’ve never experienced me with a snake before.” 

“I’ll make sure to warn them of your presence if I see one, then.”   

“All snakes in the surrounding area just gave a collective sigh of relief.”

Her poor attempt at humor earns her an exasperated sigh, though she does catch the chuckle that follows. Ethan keeps talking, but she doesn’t really hear him. Mostly due to the fact that Jenner and he keep going, while her attention is caught by a small, branching path through the trees.

It’s been a long time since she spent a weekend away from the city. When her friends spent fall break camping or borrowing a friend of a friend’s uncle’s boat to cruise around on the lake, she stayed holed up at her desk, studying and outlining. Her first copy of Diagnostic Principles looks like she closed it around a rainbow, what with all of the colorful sticky notes peeking out from the pages. That same copy moved with her through every dorm at Duke, all the way across the Atlantic for her semester at Karolinska, and then at every off-campus apartment at Johns Hopkins. 

After she left for college, the closest she came to the wilderness were the views on her Pictagram feed, or the nature documentaries Aurora likes to watch. Here, as Sloane pushes past bristly limbs, the scenery stretches out before her, live and in full-color. Drenched in sunlight, the valley stretches wide to whatever direction she’s facing. A trio of birds swoop down from above her, heading towards the staggering shelves of trees that line the distant hills. At the furthest edge, the blue shadows of the mountains melt into a spatter of gray clouds. It’s all very picturesque, so much so that when she hears a noise on the path behind her, she expects to turn and see a frolicking deer. 

“Did you not hear me calling your name? What are you doing?” Ethan demands, his jaw firmly set as he looks her over. Trotting along beside him, Jenner sniffs at the ground, unaware of the impending argument. Sloane hops down from the outcropping she climbed for a better view.

“Sorry, I was--”

“You shouldn’t go off on your own like that.” The heat of frustration burns along his reprimand, surprising her with its intensity for such a small offense. “This isn’t a walk around the block back home. I was-- you can’t disappear on me like that.” 

Sloane tries to let his tone roll off, but she also isn’t going to roll over for him. She sucks in a breath and mentally counts to five. 

“Wow, okay. You’ve never fought me before about something so absurd. What’s this really about?”

In an instant, the fire is gone from his eyes. Ethan wipes a hand across his face and over his jaw; he gives his head a little shake, as if rousing himself from the spell of anger. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, the blue of his eyes burning cool now. “I hoped that if we got away from the hospital that…” his words trail away under the birdsongs echoing around them. 

Sloane takes Jenner’s leash and motions for Ethan to keep moving up the trail. She gives him an encouraging look when he glances over, embarrassment tinging his cheeks. The gentle slope becomes steep stone steps that they trudge up, climbing higher and higher, wary of the loose ones that wiggle under their feet. 

“I thought that I would get better at this,” he finally says.

“This?” she prods.

“At coming to terms with what happened. And not just with you, although that’s a large part of it, obviously. But when Naveen was sick, when he was damn near death, I could still work. I could still be Doctor Ramsey. But when you…” he swallows and shakes his head again. At his sides, his hands clench into fists. “I was terrified, and I think some parts of me still are. But when I was in that lab with Travis, and I saw him lying on that bed near death, I felt vindicated in some horrible way. I was happy that he was in pain, for what he did to you.” 

“Ethan--”

“He refused to give me any information,” he bowls over her attempt at reassurances, his voice strained. “Then he begged me to ease his suffering. It was his dying request and I walked away. As someone whose friends he had killed and injured, I can compartmentalize that. But as a physician, how can I continue treating patients? How can I work with them when I not only failed, but refused to ease another patient’s suffering?”

They reach the top and step out onto the cliff.

Over the edge, purple-tipped shrubs choke the rock shelves that stagger down the cliff until they reach the forest floor below. The valley dips low before them, cradled by a long line of mountains in the distance. They roll along in a lazy sort of wave, deepening to a hazy blue the farther they stretch. True to its name, the water of Lake Placid is calm and still, reflecting the foliage’s vibrant array of colors, fuschias and reds and oranges peppering the mountains that flank the lake. Pale crags of rock decorate some of their peaks, so bleached from the sun that they almost look like snow.

Keeping a firm grip on Jenner’s leash, she breaks the silence they’ve fallen into. 

“Unfortunately, you suffer from something incurable.” At his answering noise of interest, she wraps an arm around his waist and hugs him close. “You’re human.”

His hand sweeps across her back, holding her tight. 

“I’m sorry.” 

She shoves down her need to use humor as an emotional crutch by mentioning this must be a record number of apologies for him. Instead, she lets her head rest on his shoulder. 

“What for?” 

“For burdening you with my problems, which pale in comparison to what you went through. It’s not fair to--”

“Hey,” she cuts him off, hugging him tighter for a beat. “You can’t work through the trauma if you discount it like that.”

“You sound just like Naveen.”

“Smart minds think alike.” 

Her heart squeezes at his familiar, half-formed huff of laughter. They spend a good length of time at the top, enjoying the peaceful view and watching clouds roll in from the west. Eventually, her stomach growls and he teases her about doing strenuous activity on an empty stomach. Jenner leads the way as they start back down the trail. 

The two boulders and trailhead sign come into sight just as the rain arrives. 

Fat raindrops plod the canopy above, drumming through the leaves and onto them. Ethan lets out an undignified yelp when cold rain lands on him, prompting a full-throated laugh from Sloane. They race down the path, sprinting between the boulders and down the road. Jenner barks with excitement when she tugs free of Sloane’s grip and barrels ahead of them.  

They reach the cottage, Jenner at his heels when Ethan rushes inside for towels. He makes it to the hall closet before realizing that Sloane isn’t following. Retracing his steps, he returns to the little porch and finds her standing out on the front path. Her arms are stretched out beside her as the rain soaks her clothes and hair. He sets the towels down on the rocking chair and approaches her, raising his voice to be heard above the downpour. 

“What are you doing?” 

“It’s silly,” she answers with a shrug. Contentment and grief coat the words; it’s an effort to push them free of her throat. This close, he can see the rivulets of water running along her trembling lips. “But I was waiting for this. It’s been sunny every day since… and all I wanted was for it to rain.” 

It’s not difficult to recall her angry words as they drove away from Danny’s funeral. 

“It’s not silly.” Reaching for her, he takes her hand and guides her under the porch and out of the storm. “Silly would be how I worry about you constantly now -- that if I leave you alone, or you go off somewhere without me knowing, that it could happen again. I’m terrified, Sloane, of losing you again. Every patient room you step into could lead to another disaster, and it might be another one that I can’t fix.”

He keeps busy while he talks, picking up a towel and wrapping it around her shoulders. With another he dries her hair; his fingers clench and release the wavy strands like he saw her do a lifetime ago in their shared hotel room.  

“It’s why I’ve been keeping tabs on you this week,” he says with no small amount of embarrassment. “Why I’ve been following you around the hospital. It’s how I knew to go to the office yesterday. And I know that’s awful and overbearing of me, and I understand on every sensible level that you’re safe. But there’s that one percent of something that keeps me at it.”

Sloane reaches up for the towel in his hands and tugs it away, letting it drop to the ground. He cups the back of her head and settles her against his chest, right against his heart where she belongs. 

“I’ve spent enough years being a cynic and a pessimist, always waiting for the other shoe to drop.” Ethan clears his throat, swallows, and steadies on. “But when I held your hand that night, I didn’t think about what the next hour would bring, because I wasn’t sure if that next hour would include you. And to have to stand there and watch you -- you, who’s always brave in the face of death and danger -- accept your fate in those last hours, that scared me more than anything.” 

“I knew it would hurt more if I begged you all to save me.” She feels the shaky rise of his chest, the tension of the muscles as he goes rigid at her words. “But I’m glad I wasn’t alone.” Her cheeks are wet with tears -- whether his or hers, she isn’t sure. “I -- my grandma, we didn’t make it to the hospital in time before she passed, and she died alone, and I know that hurt my grandpa more than anything. So I’m glad you were with me.” 

When he speaks, the passion and heartache in his tone unfurls something in her chest. 

“I don’t want to waste what time we have left. I’m tired of playing pretend. I’m tired of holding myself back. I don’t know what to do, other than tell you that I care about you, and that I want to be with you. And I know it’ll be messy, and I don’t have all the answers for how we go about it, but I know that I want you so goddamn much, Sloane, that I don’t care anymore.” 

Gripping his wet shirt, she pulls him down for a kiss. He answers in kind, his lips dragging against hers; his hands come up to frame her face, to keep her close as he drops another kiss, then two, then three against the corner of her mouth. The roar of the rain turns to a muffled drum as they fumble their way through the door and down the hall. 

The bedroom is lit only by the tall windows, reflecting what weak sunlight manages through the cloudy sky. A wall of fog floats between the trees, blocking out the rest of the world. Sloane leans down to the nightstand and flicks on the Tiffany lamp. Honeyed shafts of light fill the space, warming the room with their glow. 

Ethan peels their wet clothes away, stripping the both of them bare. His lips cruise every inch of her damp skin; she shivers at the cool, stagnant air of the bedroom, then again at the heat of his mouth as he kisses her shoulder, her breast, her belly. He guides her to the bed and she sinks onto the soft mattress, the sheets smelling of them: his soap and her shampoo, his aftershave and her lotion. It’s a scent she wants to wake up to every morning. 

“I never got to take my time with you,” he laments as he lays her down. Goosebumps follow in his wake as he runs the backs of his knuckles down her throat. He cups one breast and then the other, brushing the pad of his thumb over her pebbled nipples. Mesmerizing, he thinks, of the sweet noises she makes and the way her hips shift in time to his touch. 

“We’ve got time,” she assures him, her fingers trailing up and down his ribs. She’s unable to hide her grin when he squirms, obviously ticklish around his sixth and seventh rib. Lifting up onto his knees just enough to capture her hands, he presses her to the bed and takes a long moment to admire.

Frizzled from the rain, her strands spread across the pillow and dampen it -- no doubt the one that he’ll end up being forced to sleep on. The light dusting of freckles across her nose and shoulders are more pronounced in the yellow light. There’s the scar along her inner thigh from climbing over chicken wire to feed the hens, the burn mark on her inner arm from fumbling a hot pan of cinnamon rolls. He kisses the sharp cut of her cheekbone and the soft skin of her stomach, reveling in every facet of her. He takes a deep breath, and then another; they feel like his first real ones since approaching the window of that damned room. 

Her hands, along with the rest of her, squirm underneath his hold.   

“Ethan.” 

He doesn’t ask what she’s demanding; he takes one of his hands back and urges her thighs apart, pressing the heel of his palm against her and circling her wet heat. Her response is almost as erotic as the act itself; her knees jerk up, her muscles stuttering as her body rolls into his touch. Her freed hand snakes down her body to circle his wrist, her nail digging into his pulse point as she directs him how she likes. Increasing the pressure, Ethan can feel his cock growing harder as he watches her enjoyment. He’s too enthralled by her; his grip loosens on her other hand. In a flurry of movement, she’s got an arm around his neck and hauls him down to her for a messy kiss. He retaliates by changing gears; he slides two fingers inside her, delighted at the strangled moan that escapes her. 

“Is it good?” he asks, unable to stop the smarmy grin on his face. 

“Yes,” Sloane breathes out. She rolls her hips down when he curls his fingers and strokes her with all the precision in the world. “Yes, it’s good, it’s--” the words are lost to the crest of another wave as it pounds through her. She squeezes his wrist in a vice-like grip, keeping him where she needs him, and croaks out his name as she comes. 

He eases the glide of his fingers, but doesn’t stop until he’s got her climbing again.

“God, you’re still so tight.” He nuzzles the arm she has planted against his shoulder, nipping at the sweat-tinged skin. Her fingers dig into his flesh in time with his thrusts. “So responsive, all for me.” 

“Please,” she begs, “please, Ethan, I need--”

In a flash, he slides down her body, scoops up her hips, and drags the flat of his tongue across her. Sloane cries out, arching up into the wet heat of his mouth. His knees ache as he kneels before her and worships, coaxing hymns from her lips until she’s dragged under once more. Ethan eases her down from her high, running his fingers up and over her hip as her equilibrium returns. He rouses from his own arousal-induced haze at the sensation of fingers stroking through his hair.

“Come here.” 

He goes, without question, into the circle of her awaiting arms. She meets him with a messy kiss, her tongue tracing the corner of his mouth. His blood pulses hot underneath his skin, knowing she’s tasting herself on his lips. One of her curious hands skims along his stomach and down to wrap around his cock. 

“I want to make you feel good, too,” she murmurs, stroking him with a quick, little twist at the base, her thumb swiping across the swollen head. He barely holds it together, clenching his jaw to keep from thrusting into her hand like some horny teenager. “I… ever since that last time, you’re all I think about.”

“It’s the same for me,” he admits, too many emotions bubbling to the surface that he isn’t comfortable with declaring right now. Pressed against the long line of her body, he feels the vibration of her laughter when it comes, ringing through the room. 

“Well, yeah, that too. I was mostly talking about when I masturbate, though.” 

“Oh.” The word tumbles out before his brain has a chance to catch up and say something suave. It gets another giggle out of her, though -- and he finds that the taste of her laughter is even better than the sound of it. “Christ, Sloane,” he groans when he breaks their kiss, “tell me what you need.”

“You,” she says in a matter-of-fact way, as if he were stupid for expecting another answer.  

Ethan slides an arm across her back, cradling her close, needing to feel her against every inch of him. He pushes into her soaked heat, his breath escaping him in a moan when she digs her nails into his shoulders. Giving her a moment to adjust to the stretch, he nips at the soft skin of her breasts, pleased with the rosy marks that bloom from his attention. One of her hands drifts down to his ass and squeezes. 

“Move,” she begs.

At her command, he does; he wraps his free hand around her hip and uses the leverage to drag his cock in and out of her with short, heavy strokes. Her legs come up to encircle his waist, her body rocking up to meet his. The new angle is sweeter, deeper than before. Sloane gasps at his next thrust. Words fall free from his lips, nothing more than murmurs of praise. She writhes and keens underneath him; he has enough wherewithal to slide a hand down between them, knowing exactly what she needs. The rhythmic clenching of her sends him overboard with her, the both of them are dragged under the warm sea of pleasure. He pulls out and collapses next to her, nestling close when she slings an arm across him. The room spins around them as they wait for their breathing to turn to normal. 

As his heart rate slows, he finally hears it: the rain, beating steadily against the tin roof, a cocoon of white noise that shelters them from the outside. Before he can speak, he hears another familiar sound. Sloane rubs her nose against his shoulder and chuckles. 

“What was it that you said about strenuous activity on an empty stomach?” 

His laughter echoes through the room. After some poking and prodding, he manages to convince her to get out of bed and meet him in the kitchen. Ethan is reprimanding Jenner for dancing around his feet and gathering ingredients when she wanders in, dressed only in his button-down and a pair of wool socks. He manages to not whack his head against the upper cabinets, but only just barely. 

“Hey, you never showed me what you bought.” 

He follows her finger to the little brown bag, still sitting on the bar where he dropped it off earlier.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” he says. 

“And satisfaction brought it back,” she replies in a sing-songy tone.  

“Go ahead. Open it.” 

He watches her sift through the tissue paper and lift the object out. The snow globe catches in the kitchen’s recessed lights. Inside the glass is an overly-contrasted photo of Lake Placid, looking out towards Whiteface Mountain and the surrounding Adirondacks. “I figured you could add this to your collection.”

Sloane looks up in confusion. “My collection?”

“When I visited your apartment, I noticed the one you had from Stockholm on your shelf. Now, the next time you travel, you’ll know what tacky souvenir to buy yourself.” 

“Why would I do that, when I have you to do it for me?” she teases. 

Setting the snow globe down on the table and away from Jenner’s interested nose, she crosses the kitchen and slides her arms around his waist. The kiss she gives him is gentle and sweet, her lips curled into a smile as they press against his; he wishes for a thousand more. “But that’s a good idea. Too bad I didn’t get one in Miami.” 

He switches on the gas stove, glancing back at her with an impish grin. 

“We could always go back.”

“You know,” she hums, “I like the way you think.”

------ 

Author’s notes and what-have-yous: 

There’s probably a reference to something recognizable in here, but the only one I can think of is a line from an Alan Jackson song (don’t ask, I’m just having fun). 

[greycappedjester]

Since I log the fanfictions I read, I’m realizing that June 19th marks the first day I read one of your fics! I read All in the Cards and was blown away by the storyline. Then, I continued to read your HQ series, the other cards fics, and your Dr.STONE fic too. I want to read your DC fics as well. I don’t know much background on it though, so I’m working on it. I just wanted to say how much I appreciate your writing and how it has honestly made this past year a lot better. With all that being said though, what’s your favorite thing/theme to write in each of your individual series? Like world building, relationships, etc.? Also, what inspired you to write in the first place?

Ahhh, thank you so much! This is honestly such a sweet ask and I am so, so glad that I could make your year better.

For what's my favorite thing/theme to write in each series, that's a tough one as a lot of times in changes; but, after thinking about it, I think these are my favorite things overall for each....

(I also thought I'd do something fun and put what my favorite line to write was in the last few chapters for the ongoing works. I always wonder what lines are people's favorite so figured it would be fun to add mine)

Hq at Hogwarts: I really love writing Oikawa and Hinata's relationship. Which is kinda an odd thing to say since they purposefully only have a few conversations spread out through each story. But, they're my two favorite Hq characters to write hands down and so I absolutely love showing them as foils to each other in the series. That said, I also love writing them (and especially Oikawa and Suga) as foils/parallels to the Giant and Hisashi (Suga's grandfather). I love both foil relationships and writing parallels between generations--especially if the next generation is completely unaware/uninformed of the previous generation's mistakes

Favorite Recent Line to Write: Kenma met his eyes and his voice broke: “Why am I the only one you have to hide?”

*Note: Okay, technically not the most recent chapter but fun fact: I wrote the Kuroo/Kenma conversation waaaay in advance and used it a lot as a reference to where I wanted this relationship to be headed and I viewed this line as one of the biggest break points (along with "I am waiting" from the dance)

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Cards: This one is the most tricky for me to think of one since it changes a lot. I love doing the world building for this one (like the huge long time line I have for the history of the country). I love writing fantasy politics. As I consider a Hearts Civil War story more, I'm getting back into the groove of just really love writing Oikawa's complicated relationship with being King. And, of course, I love writing Tsuksihima and Hinata's relationship

Favorite Recent Line to Write: Oikawa swept across the office, never seeming to pause for even a second as he pointed a quill at Iwaizumi. “So, tell me, are invasions just like a semi-annual thing?”

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The Hq/Scooby-Doo AU (Investigations Inc.): the humor and banter

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Walking With My Eyes Open: I think this might be my favorite romance thing I've ever written. I really, really wanted to show a view of romance that emphasized the choice to be in love (and the work that goes into a functioning relationship). I especially wanted to do this with Hanahaki since this trope is so tied to the forfeit of choice on the patient's end and the inherent unfairness/weight on the person they're in love with. Couldn't imagine it with any other characters but Senkuu and Gen tbh.

Favorite Recent Line to Write: But, human shoulders weren’t meant to bear the expectations of divinity.

*Note: Lol, this scene got cut and reworded so many dang times in editing, the one thing that stayed consistently I feel like is me really wanting to keep this specific line

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After the Fall of Olympus: Three things and I find it really hard to pick which one is my favorite.

(1) I love that this story format lets me show the slow growth/aging of Dick as a character and (I hope) that each chapter shows how he's grown to the point that Dick at age 14 in Ch. 1 is noticeably younger in internal monologue than Dick in his 20s in the latest chapter.

(2) I love writing tricky political/social issues where all characters have their points and there truly is no write answer...with that, I love writing Dick and Jay Garrick's relationship.

(3) If I had to pick, I don't know if it's my favorite but I think it's the most important element of the story. I very much wanted to show a more realistic view of grief where it feels like the world ended; but, it's not actually an apocalypse. They recover. At the start of the story, it is without a doubt the lowest/most devastating point, but they rebuild. It's slow and there's set backs but they are rebuilding a world that isn't (and shouldn't be) the same but is there and is new and is important. I know a lot of stories that focus on grief view it as a tragedy and an end which it is in a huge way. There's the phrase "it gets better" but a lot of times I think it's viewed as "things will go back to what they used to be" which is understandably hard for people to believe because a lot of times, it fundamentally is impossible for what's lost to be regained. That doesn't mean it's the end of everything. I think sometimes we forget that the previous world (be it actual in this story or what feels like the entire world) may not exist anymore but something different can still be built. The new world and old should never be compared because they can't be. It won't be the same. But, it can be good and they can be happy.

Which is honestly the recovery of what Dick Grayson, to me, should represent rather than the constant grief/vengeance of Batman.

Favorite Recent Line to Write (technically the last line here, just doesn't make sense out of context)

“You need someone with you. I’m not just leaving you alone!” Selina shouts.

“No? Why not?” Dick spits back. “You’re so good at it !”

Selina flinches back and Dick is viciously, painfully glad.

“You don’t get to care just when it’s convenient, Selina,” he says and it hurts, a wound that’s never going to heal. “I needed someone eight years ago. I needed someone when Bruce died, when Batman was gone, and the city was falling apart, and you weren’t there. You didn’t call. You didn’t check on me. You didn’t even say bye. And that’s fine. I lived, I rebuilt it.”

He steps away. “But, you don’t get to come back now and pretend it never happened. I don’t have to let you just because it hurts either way.”

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Flash Facts of Bart Allen: Lol, what might be my least popular but in my opinion best written story. Favorite thing is Bart and Len's relationship hands down, followed by showing Bart's relationship with how he navigates the weight of the Flash legacy while feeling like he's fundamentally different than the Flashes that came before.

Partly since this is getting so long and partly because personal story, I'm putting why I started writing under the break.

I started writing for a lot of reasons.

My first fic--and the first book I ever finished--was the first Hq at Hogwarts story (Mirror of Erised). For background, I started the story when I was in my first year of getting my master's degree (which was surprisingly a lot less busy than my undergrad for a number of reasons but me getting sidetracked into that is a whole other ask about grad school).

My first reason I started writing was that I had more time. I'd had the idea for the story for years; but, I finally had enough details that I was like "okay, now, I gotta write it" so I did. I'll say exactly what the final straw was when I actually get the series finished since it's a major spoiler.

My second reason probably didn't consciously occur to me at the time but is what I consider the most important reason I write and continue to write. I fundamentally want to write stories that make people's days better. It doesn't have to be anything big; I just really wanted to write the kind of story that people could get lost in for a few hours when they're scrolling through AO3 and looking for a distraction. I wanted to write something with happy endings.

Here's the more personal part. I really don't mean this in a sad way so please don't take it as such. However, when I started writing and posting, my dad had just died completely unexpectedly a few months earlier and right before I had to move cross country for masters. It was definitely a hard time (though I had friends and a good support network, again please don't worry--it was years ago now). But, writing then definitely helped me be in a positive happy attitude while thinking of plots and friendships in my favorite anime that always puts be in a better mood.

My point here is that while that was never the reason that I wrote, it's something I reflect on a lot for why fanfic can be such a positive force. Someone can have either the worst day ever, a mildly inconvenient day, or a perfectly fine day and still want distraction. To have a community with both writers and readers interested in the things you're interested in. To have a site where fic can be easily shared and for free. There's something just wonderful about that.

So, most of all, why I write: I want to show people that care about each other. I want to make someone's day better and often that day is mine.

That's really all there is to it.

[mantis-in-the-dirt]

alright then, boys. i have quite a few thoughts and questions to consider about the inbetween and generally karl’s lore from today- i won’t be adding thoughts about the actual tales (the pit), although i might make a post about that later. just be warned, this might be kinda long-ish! i will probably expand on details within these posts later. it’s probably a bit ramble-y, but i,, cannot collect my thoughts better lmao. also, spoilers from the most recent tftsmp, in case that wasn’t clear. 

(also, forgive me if there’s any bad grammar, i’m pretty tired.)

unless i refer to them as cc!, i am talking about the character!

tw for mentions of manipulation, mentions of blood, mentions of the prison.

this is set up like a list, mostly because i will absolutely fail to keep my points in check if i don’t do it this way.

1. let’s start where Karl does- in spawn. he spawns in the inbetween, and based on what we’ve seen, his respawn point does seem to be set within the inbetween. my thoughts on this aren’t super specific, and they tangle a bit with minecraft mechanics, so. if his respawn point is set in the inbetween, that means, with Minecraft logic, he will come back right inside of the inbetween next time he leaves his time travel. what i am assuming is the inbetween is put in the/a world’s overworld, while the other side is through the nether, which means that the set spawn is naturally in the inbetween. unless Karl has a respawn anchor within the inbetween, he is naturally going to spawn there if whatever marks his respawn is destroyed. but other than that- he hasn’t set a spawn point of any kind within the other side, so technically, by Minecraft laws, he should be respawning within the inbetween. this doesn’t necessarily mean anything- for story purposes, it’s likely he’s just in the other side anyways, but it’s interesting to think about.

2. another quite glaring point from tonight’s stream. the inbetween’s threats to force karl to stay. this implies that it somehow has a way to stop him from leaving, which could involve many things. we don’t know the logic of how he joins and leaves the inbetween after he travels, and therefore we don’t know where he is. is the inbetween a separate physical plane? is it in his mind? if it’s in his mind, how would he be restrained? if it’s physical, where is it in relation the the rest of the smp? also, keep in mind this strange physical-mental-no info plane kinda idea. it’ll come up in another point soon.

3. whoo boy, this one. probably the one i’m questioning the most, if i’m being honest. one of the things we have the least answers on.. who the fuck is the inbetween? is it the castle itself, some kind of sentient being who has control and can grow itself? is there someone or something controlling the castle, making it place those books or placing the books themselves? is this force necessarily malevolent? it’s obviously not all powerful, because whoever was working to get karl out had spots that the entity couldn’t see before, and karl managed to get messages. it refers to itself as person, it refers to itself by calling itself ‘i’, implying it is some kind of sentient entity, so what and who is it?

4. i do not think either place is benevolent. neither of them seem even close to truly friendly, and both of them give big red flags in every way they talk. the inbetween is more obvious, because we have quite a bit more info on it. it’s used manipulative techniques, it’s tried to force karl into doing things and to stay. the other side hasn’t done anything specific enough to garner direct dislike, but for multiple reasons, i don’t trust it. this may be a personal opinion, but i think greeting karl like he’s familiar is strange. it said welcome home, which implies a few things (that he’s been there before, that it knows him, that it is somehow familiar with him) that we haven’t learned enough about to properly analyze. i still find it weird, however. (this is less of a concise point and more of a kind of guess/theory.)

5. this is something i said in my last short little post on the tales, but i noticed it once again within this tales, especially with a fewer specific lines. the inbetween continues to use extremely similar and the same methods of manipulation as our green smiley man himself does, which may or may not be important, but i find worth noting. 

6. there was blood in the supposedly secret room. it was a ‘surprise,’ phrased like it was supposed to be some kind of happy thing. first off, there was blood with the sign “don’t stray from the path :]” which is undeniably creepy. of all the ways you could’ve sent a message, that’s horrifying. secondly, this is one of the first (the first, possibly?) physical threats of violence within the inbetween, and we’ve observed quite often in this fandom the difference between physical and mental attacks. last, where did the blood come from? we’ve seen no physical bodies other than karl himself and the many copies of him. did something hurt the karl copies? if not, whose blood is it, and how is there so much of it all over the room?

7. this is likely a complete coincidence, or even if it isn’t it won’t matter to lore, but the blocks that we’ve seen of the other side are mostly the same as the prison. there’s a lot of blackstone and possible obsidian and such.

8. the inbetween and the other side seem almost inverse of each other. each different part of them that we are able to compare so far seems to be exactly opposite from each other. from the obvious things- the color schemes, the flowers- to the less obvious details- the way they speak to karl. the build of the other side so far seems to be foreboding and creepy, kinda strange and unusual type of build. the build of the inbetween looks peaceful and calm, very gentle and pretty. it’s obviously purposeful, and i think there are some connections with the nether (the other side) vs. the overworld (the inbetween.) 

9. there are still the karl’s wandering around all over the inbetween, and we got more information on them today. they are versions of karl who have ‘lost themselves’ and become stuck here, cursed to wander the halls of the castle together. this is a very, very interesting idea. first off, let me be clear. time travel is a tricky thing, and depending on the world and the lore of how cc!karl has decided he wants to do it. logically, these copies of karl cannot be from the past, because if they are stuck, then karl himself would be stuck, and none of the rest of the copies would be there. this then implies that either versions of himself from the future have come back and gotten stuck, and/or that there is some form of alternate reality talk coming into play here. also, to go back into the previous point, are there going to be any kind of flip-side karl’s in the other side, or are there going to be no entities at all?

10. who is warning karl out of the inbetween? the inbetween has shown us no people other than karl and his copies, but someone or something is putting the books there to warn him, and something obviously seems to know that the inbetween isn’t right. however, is this force actually trying to be helpful? is it trying to warn him away from the inbetween because they want to help him away from malevolent places, or do they just want him to come to the other side? is there some force within the castle that holds enough power to put out books with differing opinions to the inbetween’s books, or is someone manually setting out these stories?

11. where is the inbetween, and how does karl get there? we haven’t been given specific information on how karl arrives or leaves the inbetween, or where the inbetween is. is it an entire other dimension? is it within karl’s mind, or is it in a physical plane? what does it mean that karl has gone into another dimension in wherever he is? will this cause difficulties in leaving or coming back to this area in general? adding onto this with a small idea, we have been given the ‘other side’ and the ‘inbetween.’ does this imply that there is a third side, and if so, what is it? is it something we already know, like the dreamsmp, or is it a completely new world?

12. i do not think the other side is a good thing. i do not think it is going to turn out well for karl. however, it currently seems to be the better place for karl to be. it seems to be the ‘good’ out of the two, just from what we’ve seen. despite this, it seems to fight all these common stereotypes of being ‘good.’ it’s dark and scary and seems very dreary. does this or will this reflect on the dream smp itself? does it mirror anything that the dreamsmp does with stereotypes or characters?

alright then, that’s it! if you made it to the end, i hope you agreed with a couple of these points, and i hope a couple of these questions are ones other people are having as well.

sorry for the ramble essay lmao