#then maybe I will do a better job of drawing dinosaurs more often too

[pterribledinosaurdrawings]

#op have you. considered an adhd diagnosis

I have actually asked about that, but all the options were super expensive, alas. but fortunately everything that's ever been wrong with me will be magically cured as soon as I finish moving and have an actual sewing room that's separate from my bedroom.

Now I shall re-add the finished pictures, since this version of the post doesn't have them!

[iamakiller]

Zoom call with Henry

Today, Mom talks with Dad for ages. She makes Henry leave the room like always, ordering him to go play, and she closes the door behind him.  As if that ever stops Henry from being able to hear everything she says.  She always talks in such a loud voice to Dad.

But today, her voice is really quiet.  Even with his ear pressed flat against the door, the only words he can make out are right at the end of the conversation: “I just don’t want you to tell him yet, Charlie.  We both know what you’re like.  He’ll only be disappointed.”

Henry knows she’s talking about him, but he doesn’t understand what she means.

When Mom opens the door again, he’s sitting in the middle of the hallway with his colored pencils and sketchpad, deeply engrossed in his latest masterpiece.

“Henry? Do you want to talk to Dad?”

Henry’s heart leaps with excitement.  He tears off the page he’s been working on and brings it with him, leaving the rest of his mess on the floor.  He bounds into the office and climbs into the comfy leather chair, wiggling around until he’s comfortable.  His feet almost but not quite touch the ground. Grandma said the other day that he’ll be as tall as Dad soon, and Mom gave her a look that Henry didn’t get.

There’s a lot he doesn’t understand sometimes.  Grownups are strange, he thinks.  Especially his parents.

“Hi Dad!”

“Hello, Henry.”  Dad’s little smile is the same as ever, but he looks tired today.  The same kind of tired as when he was sleeping on the couch, when him and Mom thought Henry didn’t know.  “How are you today?”

“GOOD!” Henry happily rattles off a list of all the fun things he did.  A playdate at the park with Josh.  Frozen yogurt on the way home.  Helping to bake cookies to take to Grandma’s tomorrow.  Mom even let him lick the spoon because he’d done such a good job of measuring out the ingredients without making a mess.  The only dark spot on the horizon is the bath that Mom has been threatening him with since this morning, but Henry thinks he can probably sweet-talk her into an hour of video games if he goes without protest, so it’s not all bad.  

He has to take a big gulp of air at the end, because he’s forgotten to breathe in his excitement to tell Dad everything all at once.  “How about you, Dad?  It’s late there, right?  Did you and Britt do something fun today?  Is she there?  Can I talk to her?”

Something weird happens.  Dad flinches, like Henry does when Mom catches him doing something he knows he shouldn’t do.  But when he starts talking, it’s completely normal.  “Britt’s not here, honey.  We were both very busy doing different things today.  She’s been … planning something.  And I’ve been working on my writing.  Well, trying to.”

Dad picks up a funny-shaped glass of something red, and takes a long swig of it.  He told Henry once that it’s grape juice for adults.  Henry asked Mom about it afterwards, and she said something about Dad being just like his parents.  But that can’t be right, because Dad doesn’t have any parents.  That’s why Henry only has one grandma, right?

Dad likes to write like Henry likes to draw.  It’s his favorite thing to do, and he does it a lot. Henry can sit silently so much better than any of his friends, because he learned very early on that if he could be still and quiet, he could sit with his dad for as long as he wanted to.  He loves visiting Dad in New York.  Going out and doing a million different activities is so much fun!  But the best times are when they’re in Dad’s study, and Henry is sprawled out on the rug with his pencils and sketchpad, doodling whatever comes into his imagination.  He likes hearing the sound of Dad’s fingers flying over the laptop keyboard, and the way he occasionally mutters to himself while he thinks.  And he really likes the way Dad will often close his laptop with a frustrated sigh, and come sit on on the floor next to Henry, and listen to him talk for hours about whatever he’s been working on.

Speaking of which, Henry has something he wants to show him. “Dad, look!  I drew this for you!”  He holds up the picture he finished only moments ago.

Dad peers at the screen, makes an impatient sound, and then reaches off to the side, retrieving his glasses and putting them on.  For a moment, he tilts his head to one side, and then the other.  “Why don’t you talk me through it,” he suggests eventually, his voice very kind.

Henry huffs.  Isn’t it obvious? Dad must have really bad eyesight.  Probably because he’s so old. “This is you,” he says, pointing at the tallest figure, who has very long legs.  “You’re wearing black, of course.” He points to the next largest person, with long hair.  “This is Britt.  She’s wearing her favorite big cardigan.  And in the middle, it’s me.”

Dad nods slowly and appreciatively.  “Very nice.  Your grasp of proportions is improving, and everyone has the correct number of fingers this time.  But can you explain why we are surrounded by so many dinosaurs?”

“Because we’re at the Museum of Natural History!”  It’s Henry’s favorite place in New York, aside from Dad’s study, and maybe that pizza place they go to every time he visits.

“Ah. Of course.  Silly me.  And … what is that strange looking dinosaur in the middle between you and Britt?”

Henry rolls his eyes.  “DAD!” he complains.  “That’s not a dinosaur!  That’s the baby!”

There’s a spluttering sound as Dad, who is halfway through another mouthful of his “juice”, begins to choke.  “W-what?” he stutters eventually, grabbing a tissue and wiping frantically at the front of his sweater.

This is it.  Henry’s big chance.  

“Well … Josh’s Mom had a baby during lockdown.  She brought it to the park today and it was so cute, and Josh says it’s annoying and cries all night, but I think he’s just jealous because HE still wants to be the baby, and I actually think it would be really fun to be a big brother, so I asked Mom but she said absolutely not, so basically you and Britt should have a baby so I can play with it and teach it all about dinosaurs and show it how to read and write and draw.” 

Henry runs completely out of steam at the end of his big speech, and has to take another of his massive gasps of air as he’s started to feel a bit lightheaded.

Just for a moment, there’s a strange expression on Dad’s face.  He almost looks sad.  But then he’s smiling again, although he still looks tired.  “Now, Henry.  That’s rather a big ask.  There’s an awful lot more to take into account than you wanting a sibling, I’m afraid.”

“But Dad – I asked Mom where babies come from, and she said that when a man and a woman love each other very much, they can have a baby.  And you and Britt love each other very much, right?  So you can have a baby, RIGHT?  By Christmas would be great.  It can be my present, instead of a replacement for the Nintendo Switch I lost last time I was there.”

Dad is laughing now.  Properly laughing, like he hardly ever does.  It’s hard to imagine how sad he looked a minute ago.  Maybe Henry just imagined it … “Henry, it takes an entire nine months for a baby to grow in a woman’s tummy.  Even if we were to acquiesce to your request immediately, there’s no way we could produce a baby by December.  Indeed, at the very most, Britt would merely be looking slightly round in the middle by Christmas …”  He tails off for a moment, as if lost in thought, with a little smile on his face.  But then he shakes his head slightly and continues talking.  “The answer’s no, honey.  You will get your new Nintendo Switch, and that Goose game you’ve been talking about nonstop, and you will be grateful.”

Henry pouts.  “BUT DAD …”

“No.”

Henry tries a different approach.  “I love you, Dad.  I miss you …”

“Nice try.”  Dad folds his arms across his chest.  “But that pout you wield originated with me, and you should know by now that it holds no power over me.  The answer’s still no.  However, I do love you an immense amount.  And I miss you. Very, very much.”

Dad looks a little bit sad again.  Henry feels sad now, too.  He really does miss him.  Mom is great, but Dad gives the best hugs.

Suddenly, Mom’s voice calls out from the hallway, loud enough for him and Dad to both hear. “Henry?  It’s getting late.  You need to finish up and take a bath before bedtime.”

NOOOOOOOO.  

Henry doesn’t want any hecking bath!  And he isn’t done talking, either.  He casts his mind around, trying to think of a way to stall for time.  Finally, something strange Dad said earlier comes back to him, and he decides to ask for further clarification.  “Dad? I have a question.”

He knows Dad knows that he’s stalling because Dad’s super smart.  But he also knows that he doesn’t mind.  He never wants their calls to end, either.  “Yes, honey?”

“How exactly does the baby get into the woman’s tummy?”

Dad’s eyes widen for a second.  Then he grins.  “Why don’t you ask your mother,” he suggests, voice loud enough for Mom to hear him from the hallway.  “She knows all about it.”

***

Twenty minutes later, Henry is wallowing in the bath.  It isn’t as bad as he thought it would be.  (It never is.)  Mom let him choose one of her Lush bath bombs, so the water is pink and sparkly, and covered in a thick layer of foam.  At least twelve of his dinosaur figurines have joined him for moral support.

As he lines them up along the side of the tub in alphabetical order, his mind wanders to something Mom shouted just as Dad finished the call.  What’s a bastard? he wonders.  She uses that word a lot when she talks about Dad.  

Mom said that when a man and a woman love each other very much, they can have a baby.  But Mom and Dad haven’t ever seemed to even like each other very much.  So Henry can’t help but wonder how he came to be.  Maybe Mom got it wrong, though that doesn’t seem likely.  Maybe Henry misunderstood.  That’s probably right.

There’s a lot he doesn’t understand sometimes.  Grownups are strange, he thinks.  

Especially his parents.

[pedros-mustache-main]

just a job

summary: working wardrobe for the new film ‘bohemian rhapsody’ is not all its cracked up to be. until it is.

word count: 2.6k+

warnings: language, ~suggestive~ themes (but who am i kidding? we’re all here for that)

a/n: i’m continuing to work on the next chapter for “even now” but this has been in my drafts for awhile, so i thought i would finish it. enjoy, loves! xoxo.

you hate your job. really, you do. despite what your younger sister believes, it’s not glamorous and it’s not well-paid. it’s simply a 9-5, clock-in & clock-out, leave-work-at-work gig to hold you over until your final semester at university ends.

at twenty-seven, you could have two degrees by now. instead you have zero—and a startlingly amount of student debt amassed thanks to your two attempts at completing a single degree. it’s been complicated, to say the very least, and you don’t like to dwell on past failures.

you consider your job a necessary evil. there’s no one to pay tuition bills except you, so when your cousin landed a position in makeup for a new film and mentioned the need for a wardrobe assistant, you applied. the work is simple, mindless even. you take measurements, offer your opinion when asked, and catalog the different costumes. you’re truly a glorified hunter-gatherer: you hunt through the rows and rows of possible options and bring back what’s needed. 

still, it’s a job, and it pays the bills. for the most part, you stomach it. there’s loads of downtime, giving you ample opportunity to study or write a term paper. your co-workers are nice enough. they live completely different lives, surrounded by the latest fashion magazines and sketchbooks full of costume ideas. your workspace—a child-sized deck in the corner of the trailer—is covered in maths books. your future in mathematics lends itself to things like tailoring and fabric measurements, but it’s not the same. there’s an obvious disconnect; you try your best to smile and fit in, anyway.

your cousin, morgan, finds you on a lonely tuesday afternoon. it’s drizzling outside, so her hair is puffy when she enters the trailer. 

“this damn weather,” she mutters. though she’s your first cousin on your mother’s side, she grew up in australia, and her accent, thick as it is, never fails to make you smile. “i swear, if gwil comes back and his wig is all frizzed out, i’m gonna pop a lid or something.”

“that bad outside?”

“humid as hell and still raining.” she sets her paper coffee cup, stained with purple lipstick around the edge, on the counter. “how’s the paper comin’?”

you glance at your work, at the empty word document on your laptop screen, and shake your head. “it’s not. i tried to start but i just...” your words drift away, incomplete but crystal clear at the same time.

“hey.” morgan crosses the narrow trailer to squeeze your shoulder. “stop doubting yourself.”

peering up through your lashes, you shrug. “i don’t know if i have what it takes to a researcher, that’s all.”

morgan scoffs. “that’s horse-shit and you know it! think about it: you like maths, for some strange reason, and you like medicine, and you want to marry those two and become the best biomedical blah-blah researcher the world has ever seen. and be smoking hot at the same time. don’t give up on yourself now, [y/n]. not when you’re so close.”

you rise from your chair and lift your arms over your head to stretch. you know she means well—hell, you’ve been through this all once before—but your fears persist. with a good-natured roll of your eyes, you close your laptop. “you’re supposed to say that. you’re family.”

“maybe, but it’s the truth.”

the trailer door bursts open, and you glance at the faded clock on the wall. post-lunch break. time for a scene change and costume switch.

your boss, richard, climbs the trailer steps, his glasses fogged over by the weather. he tosses a plastic-wrapped lunch plate on your desk before feathering your cheek with a kiss. his beard scratches your face, but you return the air-kiss, still feeling slightly ridiculous any time you imitate his standard greeting.

“sorry, lovie. you’ll have to eat later. the boys are on their way and we only have them for a few before the cameras start rolling again.” richard sheds his leather jacket and runs a hand through his rain-slick hair. “morgan, you’re taking up too much space. shoo, honey, shoo!”

“right, of course! i’ve got to go wrangle gwilym’s wig anyway.” before exiting the trailer, morgan lifts her brows in your direction. “remember what i said, okay? it really is the truth.”

shuffling to the door, richard waves his hands in a shooing motion. “yeah, yeah, we get it. you’re family and you love each other. scram—and i mean that in the nicest way possible.” once morgan disappears, he points to the back of the trailer. “i need you to find those god-awful corduroy pants. joe has to wear them today and last time i checked there was a tear up the inseam.”

you do as your told, squishing your way to the storage area. four clothes racks—one for each of the boys—take up the majority of the trailer space. aside from a bathroom the size of a postage stamp and an area for fittings, it’s a tight squeeze. that squeeze is made even tighter anytime one or more of the borhap boys makes their entrance. their personalities are distinct and their friendships are loud; it should be endearing, but it often leaves a headache grating at the back of your skull from all the noise. 

from your place jammed between joe and ben’s clothing racks, you can hear him—joe—as he makes his way to the fitting stool.

“okay, but listen to this, richard.” his voice is muffled by the mink coat your head is pressed against, but you already know the routine. he’ll start with some ridiculous anecdote then work his way to a joke or two, peppering in a smattering of questions for good measure. it’s the same nearly every day. 

joe is kind. they all are. but joe, specifically, is the most gregarious of the bunch—a bit much for your quiet tendencies. he makes you laugh on occasion, but the majority of the time, his personality is too big for the sandwich-sized trailer. you’d never tell him that, of course, so you often spend most of his fittings with a haphazard smile on your face, your mind millions of miles away.

corduroy pants retrieved, you wiggle your way to the fitting area. richard has his hands full with rami, attempting to peel a black-and-white checkered unitard off the poor man, so he gestures to joe with his foot.

“fix that inseam,” he says, his voice strained with effort.

joe has a wry smile on his face when you look at him. “look, [y/n], i normally don’t take my pants off on the first date, but i’ll make an exception for you.”

you toss the pants at his chest. an girlish blush crawls up the back of your neck, so you turn away, rooting around on your desk for your sewing kit. to further enflame your face, you cringe when you hear his jeans unzip and drop to the floor with a soft whoosh. your fingers stutter over the assortment of books, papers, and fabric materials on the table. 

what has you so nervous, you aren’t sure. joe is handsome. again, they all are. you suppose it’s the idea of having your face inches from his crotch as soon as he’s clothed. not for the first time, you wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into. a biomedical researcher would never have to deal with this.

“m’lady, i am ready.”

the plastic surrounding the sewing kit bites your palm as you hold it tight, turning to face him. “don’t be so smug. it’s not cute.”

joe frowns. he looks slightly ridiculous, like a small child, in his wig: the straight bangs, the uneven locks of hair brushing the collar of his shirt. he looks like john deacon; at least, you assume he does. you’re no expert. still, his frown coupled with the wig and the striped shirt and corduroy reminds you more of a primary school boy than rock god oozing sex appeal. it’s discombobulating. 

“you’re a hard nut to crack, [y/n].”

lowering to your knees, you nudge his legs apart with your knuckles. already, you feel a lump rise in your throat. “yeah?”

“i’m in here every day and i don’t think i’ve made you laugh once.”

“that’s not true.” you search the recesses of your mind for a memory, but can only think about how, if you move an inch to your left, your forehead will brush the fold of his pants near his most delicate parts.

(god, you need to get laid. between a flurry of dead-end jobs and university courses, you can’t remember the last time you had a good romp in the hay just to blow off some steam.)

joe doesn’t seem at all bothered by your proximity. that is, until you run the flat of your hand down the inseam of his leg. you swear you hear him hiss, but maybe it’s just your imagination. regardless, he jumps a little, and you look up with a wince.

“sorry, cold hands. i’m just looking for the tear.”

he nods, a definite flush to his cheeks.

the tear—a whopping four inches from top to bottom—is nestled near the back of joe’s left thigh. you might be able to get away with a bit of fashion tape, but richard has an eye for detail. he claims the camera can pick out every loose thread, every minor snag. 

drawing back, you pop open the sewing kit with a click. “you’ve made me laugh before,” you say. it’s a lame attempt to break the silence, but you’ve never claimed to be the best conversationalist.

“huh? oh.” he hesitates. his eyes narrow, but there’s a playful glint to his gaze. “you’re only saying that to make me feel better.”

“no, it’s the truth. there was that time with the... dinosaur story. and the other time with the baseball thing and your brother.”

he runs his pointer finger over the fingers on his opposite hand, eyes rolled toward the ceiling as he counts under his breath. “so, twice?”

you nod. “at least.” with a flourish of your needle and thread, you warn, “cold hands coming in again.”

he shifts to stand a little wider. his arms cross over his chest, straining the fabric around his biceps. “twice is good. i can live with twice. my normal goal is twenty times at minimum, but i can adjust.”

you fall silent. once you’ve located the rip, you give it a good tug, testing to see whether it will tear more before you’ve finished the job. it holds, thank goodness, so you place the needle at the base of the rip and start threading it back and forth. 

you don’t turn when richard announces, "be back, [y/n]. rami’s stuck. we need baby oil from makeup.”

at this, joe laughs. his hand slaps his opposite leg, his body heaving as he all but cackles. you jostle with the force of his amusement, and the needle stabs the exposed flesh his thigh. this time he does hiss, pulling back on instinct.

you grimace. “sorry! you moved!”

“that’s your excuse? you sure you didn’t plan to stab me?”

“why would i do that?”

“‘cause you think i’m annoying!”

“i don’t think you’re annoying—not all the time, anyway.”

“aha! so you do think i’m annoying!”

you huff. “joe, please. i’m just trying to do my job.”

perhaps it’s the weariness in your tone that drains the good-natured grin from his face. maybe it’s your confession, which you hadn’t meant to confess. whatever it is, he clears his throat and looks toward the mirrors on the wall across from him, arms snug over his chest again. you return to the tear.

the silence stretches thin with tension. you’ve wounded his pride, you know, but you aren’t sure why it’s shut him down. you’ve interacted only a handful of times, and you try to keep professional, distanced, any time you do interact with a cast member. his suddenly-cold exterior is peculiar. 

“can you turn around for me?” he does so without complaint. his ass looks good in the pants, you’ll give him that, and this vantage point gives better access to the top of the tear. a win-win, you suppose. 

“what did you mean by twenty times?” you ask. “your normal goal being twenty times?” another lame attempt at breaking the tension.

he shrugs. “it’s stupid.”

tear repaired, you stand. “no, i want to hear. please?” 

gently, you tug his arm so he faces you again. you glance over his new outfit, searching for minuscule imperfections. you can feel his eyes search your face in a similar manor, and your face grows warm under the scrutiny. 

in lieu of an proper response, he kisses you.

the sudden contact causes you to drop your sewing kit to the floor. the plastic breaks—you can hear the crunch—but you don’t care. it’s been a long time since anyone kissed you and a longer time since anyone kissed you properly. his lips are soft and skilled, slow against your own. you rest your hands on his forearms, let him kiss you until he pulls back.

your skin feels like it’s on fire, and your chest is tight with anxiety. you swallow hard, eyes darting back and forth between his.

“i don’t like it when girls i like think i’m annoying.” his voice is thick, but his words remind you of a schoolboy’s again. it’s endearing; you smile.

“i’m quiet, that’s all.”

“i’m not.”

“i know.”

“usually i can tell if a girl is interested by how many times she laughs when i talk. twenty times and over, i’ve got a solid in. you’ve never given me an in.”

“i suppose twice is a little below the mark.”

he leans forward, as if to kiss you again, and your eyes flutter shut, but his nose merely brushes yours. “go out with me... to dinner. let me make you laugh again.”

you know you should say no. if not for the sake of professionalism, for the simple sake of proving your sister wrong. she’d told you at the start that you would meet someone and it would be dreamy and romantic and totally Hollywood. you’d promised her you wouldn’t.

but joe is cute. and even though he’s loud and chaotic, there’s something about him. he’s like a magnet. despite when your head aches because he and ben are singing too loud, you’re drawn to him. there’s no use denying it.

“one date,” you whisper, holding up your finger. “i’ll give you one date to let you try.”

“how do i know if there will be a second?”

you have to laugh at his boldness. his grin widens at the sound.

stepping back, his hands dropping from your hips, he shows three fingers. “that’s three times. i think that automatically qualifies me for a second date.”

“we haven’t even gone on our first!”

“doesn’t matter.” he hops down from the dressing stool and presses a loud kiss to your cheek. “pencil it in. two dates, back to back.”

“joe—”

he pauses at the trailer door. his toothy smile flips your stomach. “i’m being annoying, i know.”

before you can laugh again, you bite your lip. “get out of here, you idiot.”

he purses his lips in an air-kiss before bouncing out the door.

you grab the broken sewing kit from the floor. straightening, glance at yourself in the mirror. 

your cheeks are flushed and your lips look freshly kissed, but you’re smiling. maybe not laughing, but smiling. joe’s the first guy who’s made you smile in awhile. he’s made the stress in your chest relax, and the constant worry at the back of your head slow.

that ought to count for something. maybe even a third date.

[telomeke]

There's a lot of frustration among the Tumblr userbase, and rightly so. I hate not being able to go back up the reblog chain; there's often wisdom in the tags when you retrace a thread's history. (@staff, isn't there any other way to view this or access the info?)

But I can't get past this comment:

"Tumblr is seriously in the red financially and needs more support..."

It sounds dire to me. Any business (and Tumblr is a business) that continues to bleed money will be shut down eventually. Usually sooner rather than later.

Even if it does finally make money (and it's urgent for the company to strike now while the iron is hot – while competitors are having issues and losing their users to us) investors will always be asking if the money they've sunk into this company is making enough returns, or if it will get them better returns if they were to pull out their funds and plough them into another business instead. And if the returns aren't as good, the funds will flow away and Tumblr will collapse if no other investors can be found (and who would want to touch it then?).

So even with the changes (and yes that includes the changes to how we reblog and consume reblogs) I'd rather have my beloved Tumblr still around to use. The other option is no Tumblr at all, or (if we're lucky) just a radically redesigned, shrunken version of it with features no one wants (anyone still remember MySpace?).

Tumblr has the tough job of trying to attract more users without alienating the existing ones. I see the point that not alienating the existing userbase should be a fundamental (and it is), but as it stands just doing the same things with the existing userbase is not enough, and leaving things as they currently are will eventually force the website to close down. So I can see why Tumblr is trying so hard to shake things up. It's actually a matter of survival.

In the meantime, I guess the signal to all creators on Tumblr is to back up your creations elsewhere – store a copy of all your GIFs, essays, artwork, whatever, somewhere else as well. It may (and likely will) all disappear if Tumblr goes the way of other Internet dinosaurs.

If adult content behind a paywall will bring in the money then maybe Tumblr ought to consider it, as long as this only applies to the hardcore stuff and everything else remains free access. And I pray fervently they draw the line carefully, without any influence from hardline conservatives who view so much of what we put on here already as objectionable (like LGBTQ+ content for example, but also artistic nudity, manga violence, and really any idea that challenges the conservative mindset).

Tumblr is one place that still allows us a lot of freedom to be who we are. As long as they don't change that one fundamental, I think I'm willing to adapt to most of the changes that they implement.

Signing off with love for Tumblr, wonky website that it is, and all my beloved friends on here too.

I watched the live with the CEO, here is the tl;dr

The good news:

Chronological dash is here to stay! Whether you have to toggle it weekly or new users default to “For you” was not elaborated on but at least that’s confirmed.

Custom themes are here to stay! Once again, may be buried for all I know but, for sure will remain an option.

Search updates are in the works!!!!

The neutral news:

Tumblr is seriously in the red financially and needs more support, Ad-free for example is not widely used

They would not comment on the suggestion to bring back NSFW behind a paywall (which we all know would get them a boatload of money)

They’re possibly going to add a donation system like Ao3 and Wikipedia.

They would “rather not” sell data to make up the costs

Most of staff are pre-2010 tumblr users including the CEO who joined in 2007, so they do actually use the site and have for a long time

The bad news:

Condensed reblogs/removing reblog chains is going forward. The reason cited was to meet “certain expectations” of users coming from other social media, which isn’t good.

Disability features (specifically turning off flashing ads for epileptics) was met with a request to purchase Ad-free

Overall it was more chill than I expected, @photomatt and @zingring seem to be far more in tune with the userbase than u/spez.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #276

“all the other kids with the pumped up kicks, you better run, better run, outrun my gun.”

Favorite dried fruit? Dried fruit is fucking disgusting. Would you rather wear a dress or a suit on your wedding day? A dress. If you chose dress, will it be long or short? I prefer longer wedding dresses. If you chose suit, will you wear a bow or a tie? Hypothetically I’d wear a tie, probably. Have you ever wanted to be a police officer? No. Do you have a nut allergy? No. Do you accessories with chains? Put chains on fucking EVERYTHING and it is an improvement. How often do you cook dinner? If you’re excluding the microwave, like… never. What have you given up on recently? Nothing important; the only thing I can think of applies to a game. I was after the way-too-fucking-expensive dinosaur mount that is very soon going away in World of Warcraft, but the stress it was causing me wasn’t worth it. The time investment and how it was only a “maybe” of getting it in time Favorite condiment for fries? Ketchup. Ever had bangs? I did as a little kid. Do you know any Italian people? Well yeah, people of Italian descent are common in the U.S. I don’t know like, someone straight from Italy though. Have you ever dated someone LGBTQ+? Yeah, a demisexual. What color would you like your future bathroom to be? Uh… I don’t really care. It would depend on the house. Do you add sugar to plain cornflakes? No. Are skeletons cool? Skellyboiz are dope. Favorite Selena Gomez song? I don’t know any. Do you like coffee flavored cake? I don’t like coffee, so guess. Is that even a thing, though? Do you still watch your favorite kid shows/cartoons? I don’t watch TV. I would though, sure. Do you like going on walks? What's your favorite thing about them? How far do you normally walk? Ugh this question is gonna be embarrassing considering I went through muscle atrophy in my legs from being so sedentary. When we move (HOPEFULLY the start of October, a wrench was kinda thrown in our plans), I intend to absolutely start walking in small intervals now that we’ll be in a nice little neighborhood with a sidewalk. And a PokeStop nearby to bait me lmfao. Plus the weather will be cooler, so I intend to make a lot of progress. BUT ANYWAY I like just listening to either music or the sounds of what’s going on around me. Last time you had a hot drink? That’s a good question. Idk. Have you ever lived in a city? Was it crowded? Never like… a “real” city. Just small towns or in the middle of nowhere. Would you prefer to live in a big city or the woods? THE WOODS!!!!!!1 THE WOODS!!!!!1!!!!1111!! GIMME THAT SHIT!!!!!!11!11!!!! Have you ever climbed a mountain? No. Do you hear owls or crickets at night where you live? LOADS of crickets and toads during the summer. Ever run away from home? When I was a stupid pre-teen. I was mad at my mom and she wasn’t home, so I took Teddy and left. I had my phone though and Mom – when she got home – threatened to call the cops, so yeah, I came back. Are you scared to ride public transport alone? Why? No. Is marriage on your mind? No time soon. Did you own a dollhouse when you were younger? I didn’t, per se, but my younger sister did, and we would play together. Does the room you're in have a tiled floor? No, it’s carpet. How many pairs of earrings do you own? Not that many, not too few. Are you looking for a boyfriend/girlfriend? I’ve never thought *looking* was a good idea, so no. I think bonds of any kind need to come naturally to avoid lack of genuineness, force, or rush. I don’t think me having an s/o is a smart idea right now anyway. Do you prefer a call or a text? Don’t call me unless you’re dying or something. Do your parents drink coffee every morning? Mom almost always does. I don’t live with Dad, so idk. Have you ever donated blood? Yes. One song that's meaningful to you? UM a LOT. Most meaningful, probably “Stairway To Heaven” by Led Zeppelin. I physically can’t listen to it. Like I refuse to. Are you addicted to anything? Technology, big oof energy. What were you last listening to in the car? Something on my iPod, idk. When was the last time you sang out loud? I don’t recall. I rarely sing. What did you have for breakfast? A microwaveable sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit. Mom is currently out of state with her mother because she’s literally on her deathbed, so she STOCKED ME THE FUCK UP on groceries. The freezer is literally jam-packed, so I’m focusing on eating food from there. Did you have a nap today? Yes. I almost never, ever make it through the day without one, especially now with having nightmares every fucking time I sleep. Are you named after anyone? No. Well, not my first name, anyway. “Marie” is a middle name theme in my family, though. What kind of music do you like? Metal, rock, alternative, indie… stuff like that. What’s one hobby that you’d like to take up? Ugh, I miss a LOT of my old hobbies. I’ve lost interest in so much. I wish I drew way more than I do, which is almost never. What did you think you wanted to be when you grew up? The first job I ever wanted was a paleontologist. I was obsessed with dinosaurs. Still love ‘em. What’s the biggest project on your to-do list right now? It’d be great if I could finish designing Ashley’s cancer tattoo, but again, yeah, drawing motivation. ;_; If you weren’t in your current job, what would you want to be doing? I’m unemployed. Is the last person you kissed older than you? No. Are you happy right now? No. Haven’t been “happy” for a while now. Who makes you happiest right now? Probably my cat tbh lol. Especially being home alone for so long, he’s keeping me company. In school did/do people put a label on you? If so, what is/was it? I was considered one of the “emo” kids. Do you laugh every day? lol wow no. What is the last thing you laughed at? This Spongebob meme I saw on Facebook got me fuckin good. Have you cried today? If so, why? Nah. When was the last time someone saw you naked? Been a long time; even when I’m going in or coming out of the shower I do all I can for Mom to not see me because I hate my body a fucking lot. What is the greatest loss you've endured? My first boyfriend. When was the last time you did something you were embarrassed by? WOW I do this like every fuckin day, fam. What was the last thing you lied about? I’m not sure. What type of a drunk are you? Never gotten to the point of drunk, but I was more talkative the closest I got. What is your philosophy on life/how do you generally choose to live or conduct yourself? What a big question. I personally think you should do all you can to make a positive impact on the world – make it better than when you entered. Don’t contribute to the bad, treat people how you want to be treated… all that jazz. When was the last time you were up all night and why? I can’t remember quite why, but I remember doing that with WoW some time ago. Idr what I was doing that had my attention that long, though. That’s rare now. What is the worst thing you've done to yourself? What is the worst thing someone else has done to you? Part one: hand over all of my worth to someone else. Part two: show me exactly why I shouldn’t have in a very unhealthy way. What is the most personal thing you're willing to reveal? I dunno??? Can ya give me a topic?? Is there a situation or person you haven't been able to get over/forgive/what have you? I honestly doubt I’ll ever be entirely over Jason. Who was the last person to yell at you? Did you yell back? Probably Mom, and idr. Doubt it. Just probably raised my voice. Where did your last injury come from? My cat, rip. What is the worst thing you have said to another person? Something along the lines of “thanks for sending me to the ER (or mental hospital?) again.” Fucking disgusting. Do you wear your seatbelt in the car? Without fail, always. Please wear your seatbelt. Are you scared of flying? Not really. What do you sleep in? Men’s pj pants and tank tops. Who was the last person you kissed? Sara. What are you listening to? I am fucking HOOKED on 3TEETH's cover of "Pumped Up Kicks." Do you prefer soupy noodles or noodles without the broth? Without. Have you ever missed someone but felt like they had other friends and didn't miss you as much as you did? This. Is the story of my motherfuckin life. I feel this all the time to a very deep level. Who, out of all your friends, do you hang with the most and could never get tired of him/her? Sara. Do you like the taste of white chocolate or does it taste kind of fake? Nooot a white chocolate fan. Too sweet. How would you react if you just found out your mom had an abortion before? I would be VERY surprised just given who she is and her adoration for children. Are your pets spayed/neutered? Yes. Hottest guy you know and actually talk to? I don’t regularly talk to any guy I consider “hot,” but the closest to that would be my friend Leon, whom I’ve always seen as very attractive. It is fucking UNCANNY, his resemblance to Leon Kennedy from the Resident Evil series. Like he’s dressed as him before and it is astonishing. Name sharing is a coincidence, too. What time of day do you like to shower? I don’t have a favored time anymore. I just do it when I feel like it at some point during the day, but pretty much never night anymore. I do think starting the morning with one though is great, though. When you go out to eat, what sides do your order with your food? Fries are almost guaranteed, but of course it depends on the type of food, too. What do you spend more money than necessary on? I don’t and never have had a stable source of income to answer this, really. What video game or computer game are you best at? Uhhh I’d probably be rusty with the Shadow of the Colossus controls by now, I’ve don’t have the maps or every puzzles memorized from the Silent Hill games, so I guess my answer’s World of Warcraft if I’m on my hunter. Not to flex but I’m a bomb-ass beast mastery hunter. Been my main in the game since I started in MoP. What do you keep your keys on? They’re in my purse on a keychain. Is your favorite color different than your favorite color to wear? Oh yeah. Do you buy books or get them from the library? Buy them. What section of the food pyramid do you neglect the most? Veggies for sure. What do you use your stovetop for most? Well, I don’t ever. Can you focus on studying if there's music on? No, I need silence. In what types of situations do you demand absolute silence? Well, see the above answer, for one. Also going to sleep. Well, maybe not, as I have a fan as kinda like white noise, but I can sleep without it. Did you do well at fitness testing in grade school? I didn’t score bad, but I wasn’t exceptional either. Do you own more shoes or less shoes than the average person? Less, I’m sure. Do you still have anything from when you were a baby? Yeah, up in the attic. I think my mom has some stuff that’s super important to her in a case somewhere. Do you use hairspray much? I never do. Are art museums interesting or boring to you? I enjoy them. What subject in school do you feel is the least necessary? Well, this is a difficult question to answer when you consider I think depending on your career focus as well as personal values and interests, this answer changes from person to person. Like for me, I could say I don’t give a shit about complex math, but advanced math courses would be valued by certain people down specific paths. But anyway, I’ll bite and say least necessary for *the most* people, in my opinion anyway. Gym. It’s very discriminatory towards people with more limited physical capabilities (and I don’t just mean literally disabled), and it’s also just very uncomfortable and/or embarrassing to some people. Like I’d fuckin cry if in my current state, I was forced to “run” a mile, because I physically couldn’t come even close. A person, a younger one especially, should never be subjected to humiliation at the hands of a class schools deem “necessary” when it absolutely is not. Okay I’m in a talkative mood and this is turning into an essay so I’mma move along now. When you were a kid, what games did you always play on the playground? I think for as long as I had recess, my go-to was ALWAYS the swings. I fucking loved swingsets. I loved playing 4 Square or whatever it was called. And then of course there was me digging tunnels in the sandboxes because I wanted to feel like a meerkat lmfao. Do you enjoy power outages or do you get annoyed? For some reason, I still have this childlike excitement *early* into a power outage. Especially when it’s dark and we have to get out the candles, and I might play my old GameBoy or Nintendo DS, or I’ll probably just chill talking with Mom. However, that phase is pretty short nowadays, being a snake mama. My mind very quickly goes back to “Venus needs her lamp,” so as time passes, I get more anxious than annoyed. Basically, I’d rather not have one. Do you know how to use an ATM? … no lmao How about write a check? No. Are you pretty politically correct? To a degree I consider reasonable. Personally I find political correctness as having gone too far by now, but it’s certainly appropriate in some instances. What is one fashion trend you'll never understand? I… don’t really care to think much on this. Wear what makes you feel confident in yourself. There are things I think don’t look good, but they may look great to you, and it’s on your body, so guess whose opinion matters. What do you wear when you exercise? Oh yeesh. Just sweatpants and a tank top, normally. What is usually the last thing you do before you go to bed? I turn the brightness on my phone waaay down. I’m always going to wake up throughout the night and check the time, but I don’t want to be blinded.

[mcrmadness]

🌺💘🌷 GET TO KNOW YOUR MUTUALS TAG 🌷💘🌺

Rules: When you get this, it means someone wants to know more about you, so list 5 things about yourself you want your followers to know! They can be as simple as your age or as complex as your deepest fear, as long as it’s something you’re comfortable with sharing. When you’re done and if you want to, send this to 10 people you want to get to know better!

Tagged by: @cats-crushesandhistory, thank you!!! Tagging: @stufenlosregelbar, @hanhan156, @charlotte-lancer, @autumnrebel, @cupcakecurl, @lycanrvc, - six is enough for now. I’m probably forgetting about basically everyone, I literally had to go through these by letters because I can never remember anything when I should make a list and I still feel bad for not including _everyone. But I decided to include only those who I have interacted with at least a little bit - I literally don’t dare to speak to anyone unless they tell me first that I am allowed to approach them. I also did not tag anyone who I haven’t seen doing these tag games or who I don’t know if they like these or not. And all of you can also just skip this if this is not your cup of tea.

***

I can never write anything short (surprise...) so I’ll just give you a short list here and you can click the read more link and see more of my thoughs on each topic there.

I am a teetotaler and I have never even tried alcohol. I also don’t and have never smoked and I stay the f* away from drugs, too.

I love cats. Like, for real, they’re the best thing in this whole world.

I love all animals overall, and I am actually a horse groom, I have a the “Vocational Qualification in Horse Care and Management”, specializing in harness racing, and I have worked with horses for over 10 years so far.

As a kid, I was a huge dinosaur nerd and I still love them.

I love comics and I have also drawn comics since I was a kid. I still have all of my old comics saved. Lately I haven’t been drawing even nearly as much and only fanart, tho. Drawing is fun but I simultaneously love and hate it.

Lol it seems I have love for everything but humans :D:D:D:D:D:D I didn’t even realize that before making this list looooooooool XD But yeah, more rambling under the cut :D But thanks for reading, if you end up reading it.

1. I am a teetotaler and I have never even tried alcohol. I also don’t smoke (and never have) and I avoid drugs - so much so that I don’t know if getting ADHD medication would break this “rule” of mine because they are made from the same stuff as one well-known drug...

I think it started as me just being so “lawful” all the time and the legal drinking age in Finland is 18, so I wanted to follow the rules at all times so I didn’t even think about drinking before the age of 18 and I was often very much shocked by other teens who did that, and I also remember being really worried when my best friend started experimenting with alcohol as a teenager. Despite the legal drinking age being 18, basically everyone here still started (and starts?) drinking between the ages of 13 and 15. So at school, from Monday to Wednesday, all that happened was overhearing the drunk stories of other kids. And from Wednesday to Friday, it changed to them discussing their plans for the next weekend. It was like this every week. And I never could wrap my head around it (I spent my weekends at home being happy that I could have free time and play The Sims 2 or something).

Then at some point I guess I just felt like I don’t even need alcohol for having fun and I still haven’t felt like that, and I don’t think I ever will either. When I turned 18, I was super annoyed by everyone because EVERYONE asked me “So you’re turning 18, did you plan on going to a bar?” and I would always answer something like “I don’t even drink (alcohol) so why would I?” and what still annoys me a little is people telling me “That’s good. That’s a good decision, drinking is bad.” and like... if you really think so, why do you drink yourself, then?

2. I love cats. Maybe that is partially visible from my blog too but I really, really love cats, and for decades my favorite animal has been tiger. When I was born, we had already 3 cats in the house and the last one of them died when I was almost 13 (he would have turned 16 that year). Before I moved out at the age of 23, there was not a single day without cats and currently my parents have 4 (plus a dog). I am still dreaming of my own cat but I can’t take one now because animals are not allowed in my flat but whenever I move out of this, I will choose one with pets allowed and I will adopt a cat. Most likely a rescue cat if I can find one, or even two so they can keep each other company. As cute as kittens are, adult cats are also important and need homes.

3. I also love animals overall. I actually like them more than humans (but technically humans are just apes so they’re my least favorite animal, then) and when I was 7-years-old, whenever I was asked about my dream job, I always said or wrote “I don’t know, probably something to do with animals!” And since my teens I have had lots of different ideas for jobs but when I was 25, I graduated as a horse groom. And have been (on-off) working with horses for over 10 years now (currently unemployed). Originally I chose the horse work because I was so pissed by the capitalist system and the thought of an office job or job at a grocery store and such was just... ew, no, never! So I chose horses because if I have to work, then I will do something useful and someone’s gotta take care of the animals too and I love animals, and animal work doesn’t feel like work but more like a lifestyle, so I’ve been basically fooling the system AND myself by that. Sometimes I also dream of the work as a zookeeper.

4. As a kid, I was a huge dinosaur nerd and I still love them (Land Before Time FTW). With my siblings we had a huge collection of dinosaur toys and I also have always loved evolution and genetics, so what we did was to give an individual name for every dinosaur we had. And we knew the species of each of them, and we knew so many facts about them too. Each dino also had their own personality and we even created family trees for them. There were generations of these dinos and we also created this “growing up order” which meant we put them all standing next to each other, usually under my brother’s bed because we had so many of them and they didn’t fit anywhere else lol, from the youngest/smallest to the oldest. And our biggest mission, that never got finished, was “The Big Play” which was us playing that the ancestor parents aka the oldest and biggest of our toys were born and we would play with them and play how they grow older and eventually start having their own kids - who were the next generation in our “growing up order” :D

No wonder why I still love playing The Sims games, especially TS3! (I even have a Finnish simsblog.) Lots of the things I have done and loved as a kid still live so strong in me, they just come out differently than what they did then. Imagination and toys changed to video games, especially The Sims (but I did play video games a lot as a kid too) and my love for genetics and evolution is still really strong.

5. I love comics. My favorite comic book character of all times is Garfield - he’s a cat and I grew up with cats so obviously I fell in love with the Garfield comics too, and I grew up with them as well. My mom subscribed to the Finnish Garfield comic in the early 90s and I have full volumes starting from the year 1994. I also have lots and lots of earlier comics and I always hunt for them from second-hand shops and I don’t have too many of them missing anymore, and I’m really proud of my collection. I also collect Lucky Luke, Rantanplan and Asterix - I have almost all of the (Finnish publications of) Lucky Lukes and Rantanplan.

I have also always loved drawing and I drew my first actual comic when I was 9 or 10 years old. Before that I had been drawing lots of “image series”, one image per paper. I still have all my old comics here in a drawer and I have had so many different characters and majority of them have had endless “plots” aka no plots whatsoever :D Before I actually never drew humans, I started drawing human portraits as fanart when I was 16 and the first human comic characters I drew (also as a fanart) when I was 18 or so. Before that everything was animals of some sort - I have had ants, flies, dogs, cats, birds... even ghosts at some point, and I also created one very simple anthropomorphic creature just so that it was easy to draw and I could concentrate on drawing clothes and hair. Oh my god I loved drawing hairdos to these, and so often I had one female “main character” and I gave her a “growth spurt” where I just drew her in different ages until she was “adult” and I continued telling about her life as an “adult”. Very often these differen phases were literally phases, there were soooooo many different styles each just for one year :D Then at some point I started coming up with actual ideas and plots instead of just drawing whatever I felt like drawing. I still draw comics nowadays, but those are mainly fanart and I haven’t drawn about OC’s in years and currently I have no active ones (except for the “self-comics” about my deep thoughts etc.) and I don’t know how to create new ones, I just have no creativity unless it’s provoked by a fandom thing or when I get a base like The Sims 3 where I don’t have an empty canvas but am given the tools for creating something new.

It might be fun to share some of my old comics here one day but this blog isn’t really an “art blog”, even tho I post some of my drawings occassionally. But let me know if you’d like to see some and maybe I will make a post about that in the future.

[nimi-khan]

Basic Information

Full name: Tasneem Khan Pronunciation: Tus-neem Kh-ahn Nickname(s): Nimi (Nym-ee). TK (childhood nickname) Birthdate: October 24 Age: 35 Gender: Demiboy Pronouns: They/Them Romantic orientation: Panromantic Sexual orientation: Pansexual Nationality: British Pakistani Ethnicity: Pakistani   Current location: London, UK Living conditions: They’ve recently moved into live in a small two bedroom flat with their baby mama -- a woman named Aysha Farooqi. It’s a small space, but it’s comfortable. They’ve spent the last few months bickering over nursery colors and picking out rocking chairs as they slowly assemble a nursery. Their space, in comparison, is lacking, as if all of the effort and money these two have pooled together is going to taking care of this child. Their furniture doesn’t quite match and is covered with more paint stains than Aysha will admit to. The pair share a bedroom for now, but the plan is for them to save and move to a place where they can each have their own. Nimi is a fan of natural light and is often throwing open all of the windows and making sure all of their houseplants get some sun.

Background

Birthplace: London, UK Hometown: London, UK Social Class: Middle Class Educational achievements: *crickets chirp* Father: Imran Khan Mother: Minha Khan Sibling(s): Nadia(41), Amna(38), Zoha (38) Birth order: 4th child. Pets: There was a fam dog! Never one of their own. Previous relationships: They’ve had a couple! They burnt through them fast back in college and was probably a bit of an immature shithead at that time. They’ve been slower after that, making figuring themself out a priority first. They’ve had a few relationships since, but all had been slow to develop and figure out as Nimi stays cautious with their heart and the hearts of others. They’re in a open relationship right now with Aysha, which works well for them. Arrests: Yup...They had some dumb ass college days. Prison time: Nothing significant

Occupation & Income

Current occupation: Nurse! Dream occupation: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Past job(s): Cashier, Barista, Receptionist. Spending habits: They spend way too much money on houseplants. Also baby shopping: they have to be convinced not to buy every onesie with a dumb phrase on it. In debt?: They owe some money to their parents that they’ve slowly been repaying. With the new baby on the horizon, their parents say to forget about it and to focus on making sure the little one has everything. Most valuable possession: AA chip.

Skills & Abilities

Physical strength: Average Speed:  Below Average Intelligence: Average Accuracy:  Average Agility:  Below Average Stamina: Above Average Teamwork:  They’re an extrovert who pulls energy and motivation out of working with teams and groups. They’re quick to follow directions and appreciate guidance. Talents/hobbies: Crosstitching, cartwheels, board games and tabletop gaming, drawing sharp ass eyeliner wings, gardening Shortcomings: Impulsive and naive Languages spoken: English, Urdu and a tiny bit of Hindi Drive?: Yeup Jump-start a car?: If someone reminds them which is positive and which is negative, yeah Change a flat tyre?: Nope Ride a bicycle?: Yes! Swim?: Yup. Play an instrument?: Used to know piano, hasn’t played in ages Play chess?: Yes! Braid hair?: Does their niece’s hair all the time Tie a tie?: Yeup Pick a lock?: Nope Cook?: They’re learning!

Physical Appearance & Characteristics

Faceclaim: Riz Ahmed Eye colour: Brown Hair colour: Black Hair type/style/length: Short Glasses/contacts?: None Dominant hand: Right Height: 5’8″ Weight: 145 lbs Build: Lean Exercise habits: Goes on runs in the morning and bikes often Skin tone: Golden brown Tattoos: A floral design on the upper thigh, Pride rainbow on the ankle. “no flowers. no rain” on the back of their arm. Matching dinosaur tatts with siblings. Six small circles on the wrist (saving throws). Piercings: A nose piercing. Both ears pierced, but doesn’t wear earrings often. Marks/scars: A scrape on the knee and hand from a bike fall. Clothing style: Bright and colorful. They wear lots of loose, billowy tops. You’ll often see them in lots of cardigans or loose sweaters. If it’s hot, they’re usually prefering tanks or sleeveless shirts over t shirts. They’re also a fan of showing collarbone.   Jewellery: Nose ring, sometimes switched out for a stud. For special events, or when they want to feel good, earrings come out. Makeup:  They used to wear a looot of makeup when younger but have settled down into something more comfortable lately. Usually eyeliner and maybe some concealer. Allergies: None! Diet: Don’t drink, don’t eat pork. Eats halal. Physical ailments: None.

Psychology

MBTI type: ENFP Enneagram type: Peacemaker Moral Alignment: Chaotic Good Temperament: Sanguine Element: Air Emotional stability: High anxiety and self consciousness Introvert or Extrovert? Extrovert Obsession(s): How people perceive them Compulsion(s): Alcoholism Phobia(s): Cruises, Scientologists Addiction(s): Alcohol, Drugs Drug use: Yup Alcohol use: Yikes Prone to violence?: Nope Prone to crying?: Yes Believe in love at first sight?: Sure, but not for them

Mannerisms

Accent: British I guess? Speech quirks: Stutters when nervous Habits: Grinding their teeth. Nervous ticks: Messing with their hair. Drives/motivations: Being a better version of themself. Self care. Fears: Loneliness. Sense of humour?: Goofy. Self deprecative at times. Do they curse often?: Sometimes.

Favourites

Animal: Turtles. Beverage: Roohafza Book:  The House Plant Expert by Dr. D. G. Hessayon Colour: Yellow Food: Mac & Cheese Flower: Anthirium Gem: Rose Quartz Mode of transportation: Biking Scent: Jasmine Sport: Competitive Hot Dog Eating? Weather: Being cozy on rainy days Vacation destination: Pakistan, dad’s village

Attitudes

Greatest dream: Being a good parent. Greatest fear: Loneliness, failing at being Most at ease when: Being the little spoon Least as ease when: they feel like they have something to prove Worst possible thing that could happen: Being somehow whisked away from their son’s birth and missing his whole life Biggest achievement: Nurse’s license Biggest regret: Lying to their siblings and stealing from them.

[rufousnmacska]

Museum Day

A modern manorian au request

Part 1

Part 2

“Don’t give yourself a headache.”

Manon looked up from the microscope and rubbed her eyes, giving them a moment to adjust. The preparation work on this fossil was so delicate she needed the scope to see properly. Fossil prep was tedious and could definitely cause headaches, but she enjoyed it. Seeing something spring to life out of the rock matrix was rewarding, even if it took a long time. And the work was quiet, meditative. The only bad part was that she wasn’t getting paid. It was her day off yet she was at the museum, volunteering in this lab for the boost to her university applications.

“I’m almost done for the day,” she told Ghislaine.

Asterin had met Ghislaine a couple of years ago. Manon was still unsure how, but when her cousin found out Ghislaine was a paleontologist at the museum, she’d brought her to the next Blackbeak family dinner. It took almost a year for her to get Manon a job there, what with reduced funding and not many openings. Once she got in, Manon made sure to spread the word that she wanted to learn anything and everything. Most of her spare time was spent helping out in labs and with exhibits.

“Don’t you have to work tomorrow? Like, work work?” Ghislaine asked, standing up to stretch. She rubbed her eyes too and groaned. “I don’t know what’s worse. The scope or the computer.”

“At least I don’t need reading glasses yet, old lady,” Manon teased, trying to get a few more particles free from the ammonite.

“Oh hey,” Ghislaine said innocently. “Look at this.”

Manon turned to find Ghislaine giving her the finger and she snorted. “I’m only a few years behind you. Soon you can throw it back in my face.”

“I will. But for now, I’m leaving. Which means you are too. It’s Friday and I need a drink. What’s Asterin doing tonight? Want to have her meet us?”

Manon finished the section she was working on and cleaned up her area. “I think she’s free.” As Ghislaine texted Asterin, Manon gathered her things. She caught her reflection in a glass case and frowned. Quickly, so Ghislaine wouldn’t see, she redid her braid and told herself it was because it was falling in her face.

A few minutes later, as they walked through the main dinosaur hall, she repeated that excuse in her head. But it didn’t matter. She knew it was a lie. She knew it the moment she saw Dorian sitting in front of an exhibit at the other end of the room. The moment her heart jumped against her chest.

It had been a few weeks since that nightmare of a tour. Only, it hadn’t really been a nightmare. Another lie she told herself. She couldn’t get him out of her head. Hadn’t been able to, really, since the night they’d first met. But seeing him here, in the light of day, brought him front and center in her mind.

Since then, Dorian had been back to the museum eight times. Sometimes with his brother, sometimes on his own. Not that she was counting. The first time he’d just waved hello from afar, not coming to talk to her. And that’s how it went, her disappoint growing with each sighting. Whether she was giving a tour or not, if she saw him, he waved and went about his business. What his business here was, she didn’t know.

“Are you okay?”

Manon realized she’d stopped to stare at him.

“I’ve seen him around a lot lately,” Ghislaine said, casting an appreciative eye towards Dorian. “Do you know him?”

“Yes,” she admitted, though she refused to go into detail when Ghislaine pressed her. His back was to them, so she could have easily kept walking. Instead, she said, “You go ahead. Tell Asterin I’ll call her tomorrow.”

Ghislaine very politely said nothing, but her devilish grin made Manon laugh. “Okay. Have a good night.”

She waited til her friend was out of sight and started towards Dorian. He was sitting on a bench, bent over something in his lap. As she approached, he sat up and stared at the skeleton on display in front of him.

“Deinonychus,” she said, by way of greeting. “The velociraptor in Jurassic Park was based off this guy.”

Dorian twisted slowly around, his face comically bemused. “Was nothing in that movie accurate? No feathers. Fake velociraptor. The T. rex chasing down a car. Everything I knew is a lie.”

With a heavy sigh, that didn’t cover up her laugh, Manon sat down next to him. She was surprised to find a sketchbook in his lap and a bag overflowing with art supplies on the floor next to him. He winked and said hello then went back to his drawing.

The page held different renditions of the skeleton, rough outlines of various poses and movements that he’d imagined from the skeleton. But he was working on a full color reproduction of the dinosaur as it would have looked in real life. Pulling a bright green colored pencil from the bunch he clasped in one hand, he started to add foliage around the deinonychus.

Manon watched, silent and amazed by his talent. She had seen scientists make sketches of fossils and anatomy, but she didn’t know anyone who could bring a creature to life so easily. It looked effortless. Of course she knew that it wasn’t. Even for someone born with natural artistic talent, it took plenty of time and hard work to get good and stay good.

Noticing his hand had stopped, she looked up to find him smiling at her. Oh no, she thought. I’m screwed. She almost laughed out loud. Too late, that already happened.

“So what is your favorite exhibit?” she asked, hoping the catch in her voice wasn’t that obvious.

He looked at her for a second before saying, “Currently I have four, and I can’t decide between them. Maybe, dinner in exchange for your professional opinion on which one I should choose?”

Manon glanced back to his sketchbook. It was large and worn, and it looked like he was more than half way through it. “Deal,” she said. “Only if you show me the rest of your work.”

A grin lit up his face and she couldn’t help but return it. “Oh, that was already included in the dinner,” he said, bending to stuff everything into his bag. She wondered how anything survived the process.

“So you woo women with your dinosaur drawings?” she teased.

“Only one woman,” he said, giving her a heated look that she felt deep down through her chest. Then he leaned in, conspiratorially, and said, “I think I might have a chance with her.”

Manon closed her eyes and shook her head.

“Let’s go, witchling,” he said, pulling her up. “I know a good burger place a few streets down.”

*****

The restaurant wasn’t far, and even though that placed it in the central part of the city, it had an air of seclusion Dorian liked. It didn’t hurt that Gavriel’s brother Lorcan owned it, ensuring some amount of privacy.

It hadn’t happened to him often, but just one encounter with the city’s paparazzi had been too many. Dorian learned quickly how to avoid them - he rarely ever discussed anything important with his mother. She and her friends were of the opinion that only the lower classes bothered with trashy gossip sites. Of course, he was almost positive her friends were the ones selling their secrets. His mother knew it. There was no way she couldn’t. But as long as she had money to buy things and travel wherever she wanted in luxury, she didn’t care. Her bank account was her main interest these days.

The streets were crowded and it was starting to rain, so he and Manon walked quickly to the restaurant. Lorcan wasn’t behind the bar, but Dorian knew the waiter so they got a booth in the back corner. After he took their drink orders, they sat in awkward silence.

“So when did you-”

“How did you-”

They both spoke at once, and then stopped. Dorian motioned for her to go ahead.

“How did you learn to draw so well? Are you a professional artist?”

He pulled the sketchbook he’d been using out of his bag and handed it to her. “As promised,” he said, smiling as she eagerly began flipping through the pages. “I took art classes in high school, and I’ve had a couple in college. But I’m in my final year of architecture. So, not a professional.”

Not looking up, she shrugged and said, “That’s artistic. I’d say it qualifies.”

He couldn’t help feeling a burst of pride at her expression each time she turned a page. Most of the sketches were a mess. Quick impressions of displays and objects from the museum - an assortment of skulls, artifacts, taxidermy, and sketches of the building’s architecture. Only the last few pages held more complete drawings done in color instead of pencil. But she took her time, examining every detail.

“I recognize almost everything in here,” she said, her eyes finally leaving the book to meet his. “This is amazing. You’re really talented.”

“Thanks,” Dorian said, feeling a slight warmth creep over his cheeks. He was used to receiving compliments. As a Havilliard, he’d learned at a young age that most of them were fake, usually given with the hope of some kind of favor in return. Manon looked and sounded so genuine, and it felt so refreshing, that he wondered when he’d last been given real praise.

When they ordered food, the waiter made the mistake of questioning Manon’s choice of medium rare for her burger, thinking she might be grossed out by any blood. The look she gave the poor guy was beyond lethal. He hoped to never be on the receiving end of that stare. or, maybe a part of him did, he thought, realizing his pulse was racing. The waiter left and she turned to see him holding back laughter.

“What? I like red meat,” she said, still annoyed. “The bloodier, the better.”

Dorian held his hands up. “I didn’t say anything. Besides, I-”

Just then, his phone started to ring. It was the ringtone he had for Hollin, otherwise, he would have ignored it. And since Hollin only texted and rarely called...

“Sorry, I should get this,” he said. “It’s my brother.”

“Sure,” she said, sensing his tension and moving to stand. “Do you want me to give you some privacy?”

As he answered, he shook his head and she sat back down. “Hollin? What do you-”

Before he could finish, Hollin started rattling on so fast, Dorian could barely understand him. “Wait, slow down. I’m not hearing you.” He heard his brother inhale and exhale a few times. Manon was watching him with concern. “Okay, now tell me what’s happening? Are you alright?”

“Uncle Perrington,” Hollin said, making an effort to get the words out. “I got home late and ... he ... he must have been drinking and-”

“Where are you now?” Dorian asked, and he saw Manon grab her things, put his book in a bag and throw on her coat.

“I'm at Terran’s. I didn’t know where else to go. His house is the closest.” Hollin's words were starting to run together again.

“Okay. Deep breaths. Are his parents home?”

“Yeah. But... I don’t want to stay here.”

“Don’t worry,” Dorian said, giving Manon a look before they both stood and headed for the exit. “I’m on my way.”

Thankfully, he was parked close by, but he still ran, Manon right beside him. He didn’t think of telling her not to. All he could think of was Hollin. And how he should have taken his brother out of that house the moment his dad died. He should have fought to get his trust fund, should have done more to keep him safe.

When they got to his car, he expected to give her a quick apology and be on his way, but she went for the passenger side door.

“You don’t need to come,” he said, hesitating before getting in. This was already bad enough. He didn’t think he could handle her seeing the ugly truth behind his rich and famous family. But she only stared at him across the roof of the car, her fierce eyes giving him an answer. If he really wanted her to stay behind, she would. But she was willing to go. No matter what.

“Okay,” he said, and they both jumped in.

*****

Manon waited in the car while Dorian went inside the house - mansion - to get his brother. Her foot was tapping involuntarily, and she couldn’t stop her hands from fidgeting.

Dorian had said little on the ride here, but she could guess enough. The death of Dorian Sr., and how the man’s brother had taken over the company, was all over the news a few months back. And a person didn’t need to stay on top of things to know Perrington Havilliard was a prick. With the family money, he’d avoided a handful of white-collar criminal convictions, some DUIs. There were rumors he’d done worse, but nothing ever stuck.

Imagining what he might do to a kid wasn’t hard. That was something she knew first hand.

Luckily, it didn’t take long for them to come outside. Dorian stopped at the door to thank a woman who must be the friend’s mom. Hollin practically ran to the car and got in the back, not thinking anything of her sitting in the front seat. She stole a glance back at him, relieved to see that despite looking shaken, he seemed unharmed. At least, physically.

“Sorry I messed up your date,” he said.

Twisting around in her seat, she frowned, “Who said this was a date?” He smiled, as she’d hoped, and she could see a little of his older brother in the expression.

“Dorian did. He talks about you all the time.”

Feeling her cheeks flush hot, she turned away from him. “Oh he does? That sounds creepy.”

Hollin sat forward, worried he was messing things up for his brother. “No, not like that. Mostly he talks about the museum. He’d never been to the natural history part until my class trip. Just the art side. I think he really liked it. Not just because of you either.”

Manon laughed and Hollin relaxed, just as Dorian got in the car. Seeing their faces, he opened his mouth to ask something but Manon gave him a little shake of her head. He examined Hollin, then her.

Her face was heating again under his gaze, so she said, “Are you hungry Hollin? We didn’t eat yet.”

“Sure,” he said. His excitement fell as he remembered. “I don’t have my bag, or homework, or anything. You’re not taking me back there are you?”

“No,” Dorian said, pulling out of the driveway. “I’ll get your things tomorrow. You can stay with me tonight.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he swore and said, “Gavriel’s parents are here this weekend. My apartment is packed. We can just get a hotel room. Then figure things out next week. Okay?”

Hollin agreed, seeming to believe the cheeriness Dorian was projecting. But she saw through it. It reminded her of Asterin. A few years older than her, Asterin had acted this way countless times after their grandmother had gone on one of her rampages. Dorian caught her staring at him and his brows dipped in concern.

“I’ve got room. You both can stay with me,” she blurted out, surprising everyone, herself included, with the offer. Hollin immediately agreed while Dorian quietly tried to turn her down. “It’s nothing fancy, but it might be better than a hotel. We can order pizza.”

That was a lie. They could afford a penthouse suite for god’s sake. And Dorian had seen her place. He knew her reasoning was bullshit. But after asking several times if she was sure, he relented.

He thanked her with what was probably the sweetest, most genuine smile she’d ever seen. Heart racing, she made herself stare straight ahead.

“Can we get pineapple?” Hollin asked. Dorian groaned loudly, and the brothers began what seemed to be a longstanding argument.

The bickering ended when she interrupted, “Yes, you can get pineapple." Dorian shot her a wounded look as Hollin celebrated in the back seat. “My house, my rules,” she said, totally forgetting what they’d done there. And what rules she’d made him follow that night. His smirk brought it all back though.

*****

Hollin had fallen asleep on Manon’s couch shortly after dinner. Dorian hadn’t asked him for many details aside from whether he was hurt. He’d managed to get out before Perrington could physically stop him, but the kid was scared. As he watched his brother sleep, Dorian’s anger, at himself as much as at their uncle, was starting to flood back.

Manon sat down at the table with a beer and handed him one.

Tonight, she’d been incredible. Not just by going with him, but letting them stay here, distracting Hollin and making him feel... normal. Like a kid. Not some fragile thing to be pitied or talked down to. It made him wonder if she’d had to deal with something like this before. The thought didn’t sit well and he pushed it from his mind.

“So, tomorrow...” she prompted.

He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Tomorrow, I will talk to Hollin and call a lawyer.”

“For custody? Don’t you already have one? A lawyer I mean.”

“A family lawyer,” he said. “I’ve known him most of my life, but I wouldn’t say that I trust him. And yes, for custody. I should have done it way before now.” He tore at the label on the beer bottle. “I thought it could wait. That we could wait until I graduated. But that was stupid. And selfish.”

Manon rested her chin in her hand. “You don’t have your own money.”

Dorian laughed, grim and humorless. “Nope. I have some. No more than most people though.” She arched an eyebrow. “Okay,” he said. “More than some. But not enough that I could live on my own.”

“In my defense,” she said, glancing around the apartment she lived in alone, “this building is shitty and thankfully, this neighborhood has been overlooked by the gentrification brigade.” She tipped her beer at him. “But I understand what you’re saying.”

He smiled, enjoying the easy way they could talk to each other. “My friend Chaol’s dad is a lawyer. He’s a bit of an asshole, but I think he’ll help. And I’ve got some money, but my trust fund won’t be available for another couple of years. I’m hoping to find a loophole.”

She looked across the room to where Hollin slept. “Well, for what it’s worth, I hope you do.”

Before he could think, Dorian reached across to take Manon’s hand. She didn’t pull away, but her eyes flared. He held on, long enough to say, “Thank you.” He opened his mouth to go on, but he didn’t know what more he could say. “Thank you,” he repeated.

Manon’s face softened and he let go of her hand. She bit her lip and asked, “So you never told me what your favorite exhibits are.”

“Ah,” he said, “I thought I’d gotten out of the inquisition, but I guess not.” She offered him the remaining pineapple pizza in exchange for not answering, but he passed it up.

“Well, I wasn’t lying about the pterosaurs. You could probably tell from the sketchbook. I’m not sure which of them specifically. They all scare the shit out of me. But when I’m there I can’t stop staring at them.”

“Yeah, their size is a little disconcerting,” she agreed.

“And them walking on all fours?” He cringed, took a drink and said, “I like them, but in the way someone who’s not into heights might like roller coasters. The whale exhibit was good. And I also liked the Age of Mammals hall. The irish elk actually might be my favorite. I know everyone goes for the dinosaurs, but the mammals are just as interesting.“

Manon’s lips twitched and she nodded approvingly. “And the fourth?” she asked. Dorian’s eyes widened with surprise. “You said there were four,” she added.

“I did.” He didn’t hide his pleasure that she’d remembered. “The entomology wing. The...” he paused, thinking, then said, “the lepidoptera.”

Manon laughed quietly. “After those others I would not have guessed the butterfly exhibit.”

“Would you like to know my favorite rock?”

“I’ve created a monster,” she teased, standing and putting her beer bottle in the sink.

He joined her and there was an awkward silence as they realized it was late. And Hollin was on the couch. And she had one bed.

“I’ll sleep out here,” he said, ignoring the ungentlemanly voice in his head telling him to wait and see if she offered to share. “You have to work tomorrow,” he added. “And I think it’d be better for me to stay near him.”

She gave him a little smile, and it made her whole face light up. The sight of her - so beautiful and tender - revived that voice and he was about to reconsider when she pointed into the living room. “There are extra blankets in the chest. And pillows are on the couch.”

Before he could say goodnight, she placed her hand on his chest and stood on her tiptoes. The kiss was feather light on his lips. The opposite of the kisses they’d shared that previous night. Kisses that were passionate and hungry and breathless, as if time was rushing by them. Kisses that had been perfect for the moment.

This kiss, soft and plush and chaste, was perfect too. And far more intimate than all the others.

“Goodnight,” she said, then disappeared down the hallway.

“Goodnight, witchling.”

To be continued...

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[tickletastic]

The Golden Retrievers

Title: The Golden Retrievers

Rating: G/SFW

Warnings:N/A 

Word Count: 1476

Fandom: Marvel

Ship: N/A

Summary: Nothing is normal the way it was before the snap, but new bonds are made and friendships grow stronger. A particularly unique bond occurs between three giddy heroes, and they help everyone realize that maybe the new normal is better than the old one.

The months following Thanos’ defeat and the reversal of the snap, things were going back to normal, or at least as normal as they could be. One difference that Tony couldn’t find himself minding was the state of the tower. Since the reversal of the snap, the avengers had grown a lot clingier to each other, and they had been spending far more time at the tower. Tony noticed that even heroes who had previously never been to the tower decided to stick around. He found it alright, he had plenty of room for more heroes.

A unique friendship emerged as a result of the sudden unity between heroes, a friendship that Sam fondly referred to as ‘The Golden Retrievers’; Peter Parker, Peter Quill and Scott Lang. Every weekend they could be found in the game room, or in the theatre room, having a blast. Tony would occasionally overhear heated debates between the three of them, about old films or arcade games, and Steve once found the three of them cuddled under a blanket fort sleeping, The Breakfast Club coming to an end in the background. Natasha once overheard loud laughter, and peeked her head into the games room, seeing Scott tickling the older Peter, and the younger Peter, who they had decided would be Pete or Petey for clarity, cheered, claiming ‘that’s what happens to cheaters’.

It was cute how close the three of them had become. After enough observations made by Sam and Bucky, the two of them had decided that the trio was like a group of excited puppies. `Bucky thought that Peter’s personality was enough to give him a sugar rush, but seeing the three of them together and bonding was diabetes-inducing. 

With Scott around so often, Cassie had grown close to the others too, especially Morgan and Shuri, who would often visit to show Peter and Cassie her new inventions. 

One night, Tony had invited a majority of the heroes to dinner, and with a decent turn out, everyone was talking and having a great time. After Tony realized he would be having more company around after they saved the world, he had expanded one of the tower’s kitchens, adding tables, giving it somewhat of a diner feel. 

Tony was standing behind the island that separated the appliances and counters from the booths and tables, taking in the sight of his friends, new and old, coming together for a rare occasion where they could all relax, without worrying about saving the world.

“Never thought this day would come, huh?” A new voice inquired, approaching Tony’s side.

“No, I never would have imagined this,” Tony began, looking over at Steve, “It feels like a dream, a moment where we’re all okay, and none of us are getting killed or trying to kill each other. It feels nice.” 

Steve hummed in agreement, taking a sip of his drink and placing it on the island next to Tony’s. 

“Hey Steve, come over here for a sec!” Bucky called from the corner of the room.

“Duty calls,” Steve chuckled, retrieving his drink again, “Have some fun Tony, you’ve earned it.” Steve raised his drink as if giving a cheers, before turning and walking towards Bucky, T’Challa and Bruce. 

Tony found his way to Peter, Pete and Scott’s booth, where Cassie, Shuri and Morgan were sitting at a table nearby. 

Once Tony slid into the booth next to Quill, opposite the antman and the spiderman, Morgan ran towards him, jumping onto his lap. “Daddy, daddy, look! Shuri and Cassie helped me paint my fingernails!” Morgan exclaimed excitedly, shooting her fingers up in the air.

Tony examined the flowery design and laughed, grabbing the smaller hands within his own. “Wow, those are really nice, Cassie and Shuri did quite the job.” Tony complimented, looking up as the aforementioned teens pulled their seats up to the booth.

While Tony admired Morgan’s nails, the topic of Footloose was brought up again between the two Peters.

“Footloose is, and has always been the best movie of all time,” The guardian pushed, “Any other opinion is just invalid.”

“What are you, 80? So many better movies have come out since Footloose, and even before Footloose. With the way you’re talking, you sound like you could have met the dinosaurs at Jurassic Park.” The teen argued back, his tone snarkier than Tony was used to, he recognized his mentee’s attempts at provoking the older Peter.

“Hey, I have you know I think Footloose is a great movie too, and as much as Cassie would argue it, I wasn’t alive to see the extinction of dinosaurs.” Scott stated, feigning offense. 

“Sorry, this whole time I thought Cap and Mr. Barnes were the only ones old enough to be grandpas,” Peter teased, a goofy smirk on his face. 

“Hey, watch yourself Pete!” The winter soldier called from the other side of the room, as the teen covered his face in order to stifle his laughter.

“Kid, you’re really pushing it,” Quill warned, a smirk on his face too. Suddenly the tabletop shook, and the smirk on the younger Peter’s face was replaced by a giant smile. 

“Hehey! Stop thahat!” Peter huffed, trying to move his knees away from the fingers he could feel spidering up and down them. “Mihister Stahark help!”

“Hey girls, do you hear that? I think Pepper just said there’s ice cream, lets go get some.” Tony diverted, putting Morgan on his shoulders. Cassie laughed, following close behind, touching Morgan’s fingers to make sure her nails had dried.

“Good luck Peter, I think you might need it.” Shuri gave her well-wishes before following the group over to Pepper at the freezer.

“Petey, this could end whenever you want it to, you just gotta take back calling us old.” Starlord notified the teen, his fingers finding their way to the back of the teen’s knees. 

Peter was giggling, but he had himself under control… That is until Scott’s fingers started spidering frantically up and down his ribs. His laughter rose in volume, and he found that Scott, being a skilled tickler because of Cassie, knew how to get every one of his sensitive spots. “Nohoho! Mister Lahahang!”

Pete tried his best to bat at the hands of his attackers, but 20 fingers on his tickle spots was making it quite the task.

Clint heard the familiar laughter from across the room, and looked towards the source, a fond smile making its way to his face as he let out a chuckle. The trio were like three peas in a pod, and following the weeks after their victory over Thanos, the three of them managed to lighten the previously dark mood.

Back at the booth, Pete had thrown his head back and Scott let his fingers wiggle over the backs of his ribs. For some reason the teen didn’t mind the playful touches, and he wasn’t ready to apologize, but he was still gonna attempt to grab their hands and squirm like hell. 

“Wanna apologize yet, kid?” Scott asked, soft giggles eliciting from Peter as Scott’s fingers met his collarbones. 

“Fohohor whahat?” Peter snarked, trying to scrunch up his shoulder to avoid the tickly fingers. 

Peter Quill had managed to pinch the teen’s side from his position across the table, avoiding the knees that were attempting to stop his hands from under the table. 

The young hero was holding out until he felt knowing fingers touch his tummy, and his thrashing increased. His laughter had grown to be a fit of hysterical giggles, like a dam he couldn’t stop, and he desperately tried to catch the hands. “HEHEY! PLEHEASE NO!”

Pete heard Scott tell his accomplice to take over his tummy, and he suddenly felt hands on his shoulder blades too, a spot almost as bad.

The teen frantically shook his head back and forth, succumbing to his laughter. “Ehehehe! PLEHEASE!”

“Aww, c’mon Petey, just say you’re sorry and we’re done. This must tickle an awful lot.”

“IHIHIM SOHOHOREHEHE!” Peter squealed, hiccups infesting his adorable laughter.

“Wait, now say Footloose is an amazing movie,” The older Peter added, continuing his torture. This went on for a couple minutes, the spiderman laughing hysterically as a few tears escaped his eyes and he vehemently denied the quality of Footloose, until the older Peter felt hands under his arms, detracting his fingers quickly in an attempt to protect himself.

“Hehey!” The Starlord chuckled, trying to turn around. Scott had mostly let up on his torture, his hands gently running over the teen’s neck in order to keep a light stream of giggles. 

“I’m alright with you torturing my kid for an apology, but just a blatant lie? That’s where I gotta draw the line Quill.” Tony spoke, stopping the torture to return to his previous spot in the booth, ice cream and bowls accompanying him. Everybody calmed down, Scott laughing at the adorable sight of the younger Peter recovering from the tickle attack. 

They returned to their usual shenanigans, and it didn’t take long for another playful argument to ensue, this time on the topic of ice cream flavours.

Maybe nothing would ever be normal like it was before Thanos, but all the heroes seemed to like their new definition of normal more.

[squishysvt]

Best Friend! Yuta

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N i havent posted in like 5 years and i have no excuse and this wasnt even requested but there is an extreme lack of yuta content and i decided to make it myself smh ANYWAYS i liked writing this a lot and feedback is encouraged!!! lov u lil squishies muah <33 -Admin Madi

ALSO this was inspired by this post from @xuxi-rolls and this post from @youaremychwingum which are both amazingly cute blogs and people so go check them out!

Backstory first! You two met in the 3rd grade when he was deep in his anime phase and you were obsessed with collecting erasers that were shaped like weird things such as lipstick tubes and paintbrushes

Yuta stole the paintbrush one and started using it like a sword like a character from his fav anime and boy when you saw him do that were you were like “im gonna do it. Im gonna kill him”

You literally stomped your lil sketcher clad feet over to his desk and YANKED that shit from his chubby fingers with zero remorse

And he started crying and you felt bad and were like “well fine you can have it i guess”

And he immediately stops his FAKE crying bc hes a snake and sticks his tongue out at you as he snatches the eraser back

And you went into full Attack Mode and you two got into a small fist fight and the teacher had to break it up it was nasty

Anyways after you two went through the next year having some major beef, yuta apologised bc he’s a gentleman and even bought you a new eraser!

It was shaped like a dinosaur and you loved it so much that you instantly forgave him bc you didnt have an eraser in that shape yet!!

And he was beaming after seeing ur face light up like that and proudly pulled a matching dino eraser from his back pocket and was like “we match!! We can be best friends now!”

And you Loved that idea you were like yes okay first order of business: more erasers

Anyways you two just instantly clicked bc ur sense of humor was v v similar and life became so much more enjoyable with having him there to share the experience with you

Throughout ur many years of friendship, Yuta had always wanted nothing more than for your friendship to be comfortable, honest and loving

You’re the one that he rants to, gushes to and confides to so your friendship to him is so precious

And as you grew older and gained more freedom, both of you started to do more things outside of school like go on late night drives, go to the movies, amusements parks and out to eat every other day

And it became natural and routinely that going days without one another felt weird??

And you and yuta have discussed the idea of maybe you two being soul mates, but in a completely platonic way

Like you were two halves meant to come together

And yuta liked to reinforce this idea bc when it comes to being lovers, you shouldn’t be looking for your other half, but rather looking for the person who already makes you feel whole

And so when y’all graduated from high school you immediately got an apartment together!

It’s definitely not very fancy or anything since you both only had part time jobs here and there during the school years and summers, but it’s better than nothing!

And although yuta and you are similar, your styles are where you really begin to differ

While he wants to have pictures of mountains and gardens hanging on the living room walls, you would rather have mirrors shaped like suns and fairy lights behind the couch

And obviously after some friendly banter, you come to an agreement that a painting of pretty outside scenery at night would look great with some fairy lights to compliment it!!

And so your apartment quickly becomes a mesh of your style with his and it’s oddly nice?? Like who would’ve thought that yuta’s knick knacks from japan would look so cute next to your family photos

It’s a two bedroom apartment but you both end up sleeping on the couch in a heap more often than you’d like to admit

You’re both in uni doing ur own things so when its time to come home and relax, you’ll find yourself curled up next to him on the couch with your laptop open and writing a paper while he’s munching on some snacks and watching a game of soccer he missed bc of classes

And you’ll quickly fall asleep bc papers are boring!! And yuta doesnt want to move bc your laying on him and doesnt want to disturb you so he’ll just quietly cheer to himself when his team scores and eventually falls asleep

But sometimes he has no problem lightly shoving you off and going to his own bed bc the couch isnt really that comfortable and hurts his back after awhile, but he brings your duvet out so its more comfortable for you at least

And although you two are pretty much joint at the hip, your bedrooms are private from one another

Like its nice being with yuta, but its also very important that you have time to yourself and so neither of you are intrusive when the other person is in their room with the door shut

If either of you need anything you’ll just shoot each other a text or quietly knock on the door rather than just barging in which is something that both of you really appreciate

And you obviously have other friends besides yuta that you love dearly! And you make sure that you get to see them often and that yuta goes out with his friends too bc its easy to get sick of each other no matter how much you love one another

And this makes for your friendship to be healthy! Which is like, the most important thing bc being your own person is important and having close relationships/friendships is also important! But its easy to get too attached and end up hurting yourself down the road

And yuta is aware of this as well and so it makes things a lot easier bc he knows when you need your space and when to distance himself if he needs it too

But living with yuta is a lot of fun!

He likes to cook sometimes so you’ll always have a full tummy with yuta around!! And if he's not in the mood for slaving over the stove, he’ll just make some instant noodles and call it a day

He really tries to make as many traditional japanese dishes as he can so he can have a slice of his home whenever he’s feeling down, and he just really enjoys sharing that part of his life with you too

Undoubtedly his favorite part is when he gets to hand feed you with a spoon and witness the look on your face as you chew bc it’s really rewarding for him

Sometimes your schedules kind of clash on days so whenever he’s home and you’re in class, he’ll make food for himself and leave you tupperware containers of food in the fridge for you to heat up when you get back bc he knows you’ll just crash and not eat which is really bad

And yuta cares about ur health!!! He’s attentive as heck!!

But you’ll do the same thing for him, and even if you aren't a world renowned chef, you’ll lay cash on the counter for him to call in a pizza or something quick

If you know he’s been craving something then you’ll leave the number for the place next to the money you leave so it makes ordering a bit easier for him!

Also, yuta is very organized! Sometimes he’ll throw his jacket here and there or have some things where they shouldn’t be, but yuta really likes having a clean and tidy apartment!

He hates doing the dishes, but he’ll literally do anything else

He likes to vacuum for some reason you dont know but you’re like okay have at it! One less thing i gotta do! And he’s really happy once he’s done bc BAM you have clean floors

And you’ll just be sarcastic about it but in a loving way and he laps that shit up bc sarcasm!!! His second language <333

You two have a nightly routine that ensues when neither of you are busy the next day so  you’ll watch a movie on netflix you’ve been eyeing together and crash

Sometimes when yuta gets home on these nights you’ll still be in the shower or getting ready for bed, and yuta will come in and sit on the counter and you’ll talk about your day and just chill while shampooing ur hair (which yuta is obsessed with btw..he loves touching and playing with it)

But he’ll just be there,,listening closely and telling you about his own day while drawing squiggly images on the mirror like hearts and stick figures holding hands (its always you and him, but when you ask, he insists its him and winwin)

And you laugh bc boy does ur bff ever have a massive crush on sicheng!!

But yuta is just cute and likes your platonicness with him

Bc he really does love you! People often ask you two if you’re dating and you can see why people would ask that bc you and yuta are super close, but it’s also kind of an odd thought to both of you bc yeah you love each other but,,,not as lovers

And so you’ll laugh it off and talk about it afterwards bc you really cant see each other in that light because you tried dating in high school and it just felt kind of weird

Yuta loves to tease and joke around with you, sometimes be a little (read; lot) sarcastic with his jokes but he really does care about u and thats how he shows his affection!!

He’ll hold ur hand when ur out at the grocery store or shopping together and likes to pat your head and plays with your ears but thats about it for physical affection!

You’re emotionally bonded more so than physically which is not a bad thing uwu

Yuta finds it kind of hard to openly joke around to the same extent with others as he does to you and knowing this makes you feel really special

Like yeah!! Thats right!!! Im his best friend!!

Yuta also LOVES to dance with you

It doesn’t matter if it’s serious or not, he will not hesitate to pull you up onto ur feet and have you dancing with him

ESP to sistars shake it! Y’all have so much fun when that song comes on

At first this was embarrassing but then yuta would just NOT stop shaking his butt so you were like oh well lets both look cutely dumb i guess

And you’ll get noise complaints a lot bc the walls are thin and you’re moving around, creating a lot of noise and you feel especially bad when this is all happening at like,,,3am

Anyways you live kind of a fast pace life so whenever you gotta be somewhere you kinda fly out the door with ur feet shoved into ur shoes with the backs down and yuta will silently come behind you and remind you to slow down and will bend down and personally make sure they’re on properly so you don’t trip and die

It annoys him sometimes bc you should be taking better care of yourself and he’s not always going to be there to look after you and that worries him!!!

To allow him to sleep a little better at night, he bought you slide on shoes that you can easily shove on and fly out the door so he won’t have a heart attack at the thought of you falling down some stairs due to the hastiness of which you put your sneakers on improperly

And he’s also the one who is like “hey its been a couple of months so i bought you a new toothbrush bc dental hygiene is important” and you’re like “okay nice i just bought some new toothpaste on sale the other day, it’s minty so i think you’ll like it”

And this is how you two co-exist in ur shitty lil apartment

Yuta is also into soccer so you always make sure to go and support him at his games! Even if they’re just practices or whatnot, you’ll always be on the bleachers cheering for him!

Which yuta LOVES because he’ll point you out to his teammates and be like “thats my best friend, ugly, right?” and they’ll just laugh bc of his teasing and they can tell you two really get along

And yuta is uwu x100 at this

Anyways yuta likes to show off and do fancy tricks like sliding on the grass to get the ball and he’s all dirty when you get back to ur apartment together and you wont let him touch anything bc that means more cleaning which neither of u have the energy for

So you’ll basically make him take VERY large and wide steps towards the bathroom so he can shower and leave minimal dirt behind as he does so

And then he’ll come out of the shower with wet hair and clean up the tracks he left with a paper towel but he’ll go in circles for a good 30 seconds wiping up dirt and then water from his wet hair

And you’ll observe him and laugh for a bit before you’ll drape a fluffy towel over his head and he’ll pretend to be scared and ask who turned off the lights

To which you nudge him and call him a dork, but when he takes the towel off and get to look at his face, you tell him he did a great job at the game and his eyes will change from playful teasing to filled with genuine love in .5 seconds and he’ll instantly wrap you in his arms

And you’ll find warmth in his embrace and wonder why he smells so good and then you’ll realize he’s using your shampoo

You’re like okay well, sigh, whatever its okay bc hes cute i guess so we can share

And then yuta will pull away, give your head an affectionate pat and go work on a paper or something due for school

Which you both do a lot of late night paper writing sessions and so when he tells you he’s retreating to his room for the night you’ll go and cut up some fruit and gather some snacks he likes and bring them to him before he becomes too absorbed in schoolwork

And he does the same to you except he brings you a lot of water since its “important to stay hydrated~!” and will cover you in his favorite blanket bc he claims it “helps you write better papers”

And you arent allowed to refuse bc one time you tried to and yuta was like “okay well i guess i’ll be moving out then” and you’re like okay i know you’re joking but its hot in here i dont want to have a blanket on me

And yuta starts to dramatically pick things off of shelves until he’s saying things like “i’ll be out by morning since im not appreciated” and you’re rolling your eyes so hard you think they’ll go to the back of your head but its like okay fine thank you for your magic blanket houdini

Yuta just winks at you and does a theatrical bow before putting everything back and leaving you to write your magical paper

ANYWAYS thats what most nights are like, full of playful banter and fun talks

You also both THRIVE off the dollar store which is literally everything bc you two get so excited going in there!

They have everything so its like?? This place is my Second Home and i Love it Dearly

And yuta likes to buy candy there since its so cheap and one time when you were looking for a new broom, he wanders off and comes back with his hands behind his back and is like “guess what i found!!!”

And this is nothing new because yuta gets excited about the cutest things so you’re like “gum?”

And his smile gets all wide and bright like i KNOW you know the one im talking about, it’s literally kept me alive for the past 18 years

And he’ll bring his hands out and WOW ARE THOSE ERASERS THAT ARE SHAPED AS SMALL ORDINARY OBJECTS??

And you just want to CRY bc thats literally the sole being of your friendship in his HANDS!

Yuta is proud as heck and buys two matching ones for you two and they’re of paintbrushes in honor of the one he snatched in the third grade!

Which makes your heart so happy and content

But thats the effect yuta has on you! Someone who always manages to have you smiling and happy with life

But he does end up buying candy bc its basically your duty as a human to buy some expired candy from the local dollar store

And yuta really loves the flavor blue raspberry, esp if its sour and he finds a bag of sour jolly ranchers and goes nuts

And he picks out and religiously eats only the blue ones, a red one makes the cut here and there, but you’re like?? Yuta?? Can i atleast have ONE? And he rarely ever shares but its like okay whatever enjoy your cavities heathen

And you’ll clown the shit out of him bc his tongue is blue, his teeth are blue and the area around his mouth is blue and you cant just let that pass

And he’ll laugh when you try and come up with palpable things to call him, and when you’re both giggling uncontrollably, he’ll try to kiss your cheek bc he’s all sticky and he knows that would drive you mad

And its the same with his fingers bc theyre all blue and sticky too and he’ll hold your hand so hard that your fingers stick together and youre like yuta!!!! But you really secretly enjoy it

And then you’ll go home with bags full of god knows what and struggle to find places for everything but its okay bc the memories that come with the plastic bags and erasers from your childhood remind you why you love yuta as much as you do

Can you tell i love yuta yet or is this au too vague <3333

[legendofzeldaalinktothepast]

Pathetic, Clinging Poetry - Chapter 15 (of 25)

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter 

The blankets feel like anchors  When we're not beneath them together.  The sound of laughter is grating  When it's not yours.  My hands feel so cold  When you aren't holding them.  I just want to go home. 

* 

Another day at the library, another coloring page to hang on the fridge. Most of them were from Steven, but every now and then some of the other story time kids would give Pearl their artwork to take home. 'It's very cute, but I'm starting to run out of magnets...' Pearl noted as she hung up Steven's newest masterpiece -- a family of red and green polka dotted dinosaurs munching on purple and pink leaves. Still, the sight of his coloring pages warmed Pearl's heart; the fact that this child had grown so attached to her, and that he'd reintroduced her to Rose was truly a blessing... 'What a small world.'

She re-arranged some of the pictures on the fridge so they looked a bit more orderly, and took the older ones out from behind the magnets. 'Maybe I should keep these drawings somewhere else... I'm sure Amethyst has a box or a folder I could keep them in.' she thought.

Just as she began to make her way towards the stairs, Pearl heard the sound of keys in the door, followed by a dramatic cry of "Peeearl!"

Confused and somewhat concerned, she peered into the entry room, seeing Jasper and Amethyst with shopping bags in their hands. "Where did you two go?" she asked.

"Nooowhere..." Amethyst teased, and Jasper grinned as she carried the bags into to the living room.

"Is that so?" Pearl crossed her arms with an amused expression.

"Close your eyes." Jasper said with a grin. "And don't open them 'til we tell you to!"

"Sounds suspicious, but alright!" Pearl giggled, cupping her hands over her eyes. 'What on earth are these girls up to...?'

"Okay, you can open up!" Amethyst said. When Pearl pulled her hands way, she let out a huge gasp at the sight laying before her.

A beautifully decorated store-bought cake sat on the coffee table. It read "Happy Birthday!" in pink frosting; the corners were decorated with buttercream flowers, and it had pink and orange sprinkles scattered all over.

"Oh my goodness!" Pearl gasped, cupping her hands over her face. "You guys are so sweet! You didn't have to do this for me..."

"Pfft, of course we did!" Amethyst pulled Pearl into a tight hug.

"It was my idea, just so you know." Jasper joined in on the hug, lifting both of them off the ground.

"I mean, I would've thought of it too if I'd known you liked cake." Amethyst blushed. "You're such a health nut, you know?"

"I guess you could say that... But trust me, I love sweets!" Pearl said. "It's so beautiful, too! What flavor is it?"

"Strawberry with vanilla frosting." Jasper said. "That's still your favorite, right?"

Pearl bounced on her feet. "Yes! Absolutely! I can't believe you remembered that!"

"Get yourself relaxed on the couch, I'll get us something to slice this cake with!" Amethyst said.

"I'll get the knife; I don't trust you with anything sharper than a marshmallow." Jasper urged.

"Fine by me." Amethyst shrugged. She flopped down onto the couch beside Pearl. Once Jasper was out of the room, Amethyst leaned up and kissed Pearl on the cheek.

"I really appreciate what you guys have done..." Pearl said, pressing a kiss to Amethyst's cheek in return. "Seriously, you didn't have to do all of this..."

"Hey, you deserve it, alright?" Amethyst said, smiling warmly. "You're such a good friend and girlfriend. I'd buy you the whole world if I could."

Her cheeks blushing, Pearl gripped Amethyst's hand and kissed her on the knuckles. "And I'd do the same for you."

Amethyst smiled shyly. "So... hey. When do you think we should break the news to Jasper, now that we're officially girlfriends?"

"Not sure..." Pearl said, stroking Amethyst's knuckles with her thumb. "Though I have a feeling she might be catching on. She's been giving us a lot of privacy lately, you know. And I'm sure she's noticed I'm not sleeping on the couch anymore."

"True." Amethyst shrugged. "Then maybe we don't have to worry about hiding it anymore. Let's just... let things happen. If she questions something, then we'll talk." she said, and Pearl nodded in agreement.

Soon enough, Jasper returned with a knife and three paper plates. She cut out three generous slices of cake for each of them, sitting down on the recliner across from Pearl and Amethyst, and they all dug in. Pearl couldn't help kicking her legs like an excited child; it tasted just like the cakes she always used to get when she was younger! 'That same bakery must still be around.' she thought.

"Oh man, I almost forgot!" Amethyst said through a mouthful of cake, jumping to her feet. "Jasper, the gifts!"

"Didn't you wanna wrap them?" Jasper said.

"Yeah, but I'm too excited to wait! I'm giving her my gift right now!" Amethyst said.

"If you are, then I will, too." Jasper said.

Pearl's heart fluttered in her chest. "You got me gifts, too?" she said, placing her empty plate on the coffee table.

"Hell yeah, we did!" Amethyst said. She reached into one of the tote bags laying on the floor, rummaging through it for a moment. It looked like they'd done a little bit of grocery shopping in addition to the birthday shopping, Pearl observed. Then, she pulled out a pastel pink spiral notebook and a pack of colorful pens. "Here! Now you don't have to write on my trashy old notebook paper anymore."

"Oh my goodness..." Pearl began to tear up again and pulled Amethyst into a tight hug. "Thank you so much! This is the most thoughtful gift I've ever gotten!"

"Don't speak too soon." Jasper chuckled, handing another shopping bag over to Pearl. "My gift is better."

"You wish." Amethyst stuck her tongue out.

"I'm sure your gift is just as good! After all, it's not a contest." Pearl giggled. She somewhat regretted sparking competition between them, even if it was mostly playful. Pearl reached into the bag and pulled out a thin, teal tank top and a pair of high waisted shorts.

Jasper smiled. "Ame said you're expanding your wardrobe options. So I bought you something to wear when it gets hot out and you don't feel like wearing a skirt."

"Oh my gosh, these are adorable! And they look so comfy, too!" Pearl said, beaming with joy. "I can't believe how lucky I am to have you two! Seriously, this is the best birthday I've had in years." She pulled both Jasper and Amethyst into another tight group hug. "Everything you got me is perfect... I can't thank you enough!"

Once they'd cleaned up the living room and stored the remains of the cake in the fridge, Pearl decided to try on her new outfit. It was often difficult to find clothes that fit her just right, especially with her narrow hips and flat chest; but regardless, just knowing that Jasper cared enough to buy her a gift filled Pearl's heart with warmth.

Pearl slipped into the denim shorts and buttoned them up over her thin waist; just a tad loose, but not enough to fall down, at least. A proper belt was all she needed to make it perfect. She then slipped the tank top over her head, ripping off the tags and tucking the bottom into the shorts. Pearl looked herself over in the bathroom mirror and sighed happily. 'Pretty cute...' she thought with a giggle, doing a little spin out of habit -- only to remember there wasn't much point in that when she wasn't wearing a skirt.

"You almost done in there, Pierogi?" Amethyst called from the other side of the bathroom door. "No rush, just wanted to brush my teeth."

"Oh, yes! I was just getting dressed." Pearl said, clasping her hands together. "You can come in if you'd like."

Amethyst walked in, immediately brightening up at the sight of Pearl. "Look at you, birthday girl! You look so cute." she grinned, hugging Pearl from behind and standing on her tippy toes so she could kiss her on the cheek.

"Aww, thanks, darling." Pearl blushed, returning the kiss. "I might need to borrow one of your belts, though."

"Sure thing! I got plenty." Amethyst said, grabbing her toothbrush from the cabinet and rinsing it off in the sink. "They should be in the top drawer of my dresser."

"Alright!" Pearl said. She headed out of the bathroom and shut the door behind herself, heading towards Amethyst's room.

Pearl dug through the top drawer of Amethyst's dresser, and among the array of mismatched socks, underwear, wrinkled tee shirts, and various crumbled up papers (seriously, did Amethyst not know there were separate drawers for a reason?) she finally managed to find a sturdy leather belt. She laced it through the belt loops of her shorts and tightened it, latching the metal buckle in the front. 'Perfect!' she thought, looking herself over in Amethyst's body length mirror one more time.

"Pearl!!" Jasper called; Pearl heard the sound of her heavy footsteps in the hallway, followed by the bedroom door opening. "Oh, hey, nice outfit." Jasper teased, giving Pearl a playful nudge. "Someone's on the phone for you; might be for one of your jobs?"

Pearl's heart did a little flip-flop in her chest. "Oh -- that's wonderful!" she said. It had been quite a while since she'd applied for any jobs, but sorting through applications seemed to be a long process... Mentally preparing herself, she cleared her throat and smoothed out her hair (she wasn't sure why she did the latter, since the person on the other end couldn't even see her) and reached for the phone. Jasper headed back down the hallway, and Pearl seated herself on the edge of Amethyst's bed. "Hello?"

"Happy birthday, starlight!"

As if she'd flipped a switch, Pearl suddenly forgot how to speak. The second she heard that voice she knew exactly who it was, and the nickname ruled out the slightest remaining chance it wasn't her -- yet she still sat in baffled silence, trying to think of anyone, anyone else it could possibly be, but she couldn't.

"I said, happy birthday!" the woman finally repeated, causing Pearl to flinch.

"Who... is this?" Pearl finally choked out.

"Don't be silly, you know it's me!" Whitney cooed in response.

"H-how did you get this number?" Pearl urged, her fear slowly turning into rage.

"I know you probably weren't expecting a call from me, but what kind of mother would I be if I didn't wish you a happy birthday? It wasn't hard, after all; I knew you'd run off to Beach City, presumably to go and live with that Rose girl.... Unfortunately, I couldn't track her down, but I was able to find your friend's number with a little bit of searching -- as well as some help from some old friends!"

Pearl swallowed. She could feel a lump forming in her throat. "I... I don't want to talk to you. And I think you know that."

"Oh, don't be like that! I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday! Can't a mother do that?" Whitney sighed. "But if you truly don't want to talk to me, at least hand the phone over to Peony."

Pearl was one second away from hanging up, but the last part stopped her dead in her tracks. "...Peony?"

"Yes! You haven't forgotten your own twin's birthday, have you?" Whitney teased. "Let me chat with her, would you, dear?"

"What are you talking about? Peony didn't come with me!" Pearl snapped.

"You've always been a terrible liar, sweetheart..." Whitney sighed. "I know she's with you. The poor thing vanished without a trace a couple weeks back, just like you. I'm not a fool; I know she followed in your footsteps."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Pearl hissed, her voice slowly raising up to a shout. "Now do us both a favor and fuck off!"

Pearl hung up and threw the phone on the ground -- then immediately regretted it once she remembered it was Jasper's. Thankfully, it bounced on the carpeted floor of Amethyst's room without a scratch. Gritting her teeth, Pearl slammed her fist on the ground as she fell to her knees. Rage boiled up in her chest, which manifested in the form of tears, spilling onto her lap as she sobbed.

"Damn it!" she hissed, reaching up and tugging at her hair. 'She sounded so serious... God, if she's telling the truth -- where could Peony even be, if she's not here? Something terrible could've happened... She could've...'

"Pearl?" Amethyst called; Pearl felt a wave of shame upon realizing that Amethyst had overheard her outburst. Before she could say anything else, the bedroom door opened and Amethyst peered inside. "You okay?"

Pearl only sobbed even harder. She didn't want to talk -- didn't want to even acknowledge what was going on right then. She slowly curled up on the floor and buried her face into her arms, and Amethyst cautiously approached her, resting a hand on her back. "Hey... it's alright. I'm here. Just... just breathe, okay?"

"Mom..." Pearl choked out. For a moment Amethyst was confused; she noticed Jasper's phone lying on the floor, and turned her gaze back to Pearl, slowly putting the pieces together. 'Oh.'

"Oh, shit..." Amethyst mumbled. "Look, it's gonna be okay." Amethyst whispered, gently dragging her fingers across Pearl's spine. "I promise. You're over here, and she's miles and miles away from you. And even if she tries to come here... She's gonna have to get through me and Jasper before she touches a hair on you."

Pearl nodded her head, slowly pulling herself upright so she could hug Amethyst. She buried her face into her neck and let out a long sigh. She wasn't sure how true Amethyst's words were... And God, her fear for Peony was killing her more than anything her mother could ever do. As far as she knew, Peony couldn't drive, and hadn't shown any desire to come back to Beach City even after Pearl had begged her to come along. But telling Amethyst about that was too much to think about... So for the time being, she allowed herself to be comforted in silence, taking in the familiar scent of her girlfriend as she stroked her back.

"It's okay to feel shitty right now, and I don't wanna rush you into feeling better. You feel shitty as long as you want to, alright?" Amethyst spoke up after a few minutes. "But I also don't want your special day to be complete shit, all because of your asshole mom... And I totally get if you wanna spend the rest of the day at home, but... I was also thinking... If it'd help you feel better... Maybe we could go to the beach. Just the two of us. We could go for a walk, dip our feet in the water, collect some cool rocks, and if you want, you could tell me all about what happened. Or I could try to distract you, if you want that instead. You think that'd help?"

In all honesty, the thought of leaving the house made Pearl's stomach feel uneasy... But if she stayed cooped up in the house for the rest of the day, she'd probably end up feeling a thousand times worse. And if it was just the two of them, surrounded by the sounds of the ocean and breathing in the fresh air, maybe that'd help her relax, and maybe then she'd be comfortable telling Amethyst about what'd happened. So she drew in a deep breath, wiping the tears away from her face. "I think... That would be nice. And I think it could help." Pearl said with a teary-eyed smile. "Thank you for comforting me..."

"What kinda girlfriend would I be if I didn't?" Amethyst tilted her head, smiling warmly. "Want a kiss? Or you need some space?"

"A kiss, please." Pearl whispered in response. She cupped Amethyst's cheeks and slowly leaned in, bringing their lips together. 

* 

Pearl shielded her eyes from the sun's reflection on the ocean, feeling the sand moving between her toes as she stepped into the shallow water. Seagulls cawed back and forth as they soared overhead, and the waves lapped against Pearl's bare legs. With the sun beginning to set and the lifeguard off duty, the beach was rather empty save for a few kids building a sand castle in the distance and the adult supervising them from their lawn chair. The scent of greasy deep-fried food lingered in the air, which Pearl assumed to be from one of the concession stands nearby. She crinkled her nose, remembering the disgusting, greasy french fries that Peony used to always beg for back when they were kids.

"Hey, look!" Amethyst said, snapping Pearl out of her daydream. She leaned over into the water and reached into the sand, getting her clothes a bit wet but not seeming to care. Amethyst plucked out a smooth, shiny rock which she held up in the sunlight. "Look how pretty! You can see the layers! It's uh, watcha call it, sedimentary!"

Pearl chuckled softly. "It certainly is pretty." she said, taking the smooth rock from Amethyst's hand and rolling it around in her own. "Perhaps we could collect some pretty stones here, and use them for one of your art projects."

"Yeah, good idea!" Amethyst grinned. "But I want you to keep that one as a good luck charm."

"Oh, what's lucky about it?" Pearl asked.

"Nothing in particular." Amethyst shrugged. "But luck's all in your head, anyway. So if you think it's lucky, then it'll be lucky."

"Then I guess this rock is as lucky as it gets." Pearl grinned, slipping the rock into the pocket of her shorts. "Thank you, dear."

"No problem." Amethyst stood up on her tippy-toes for a kiss. Pearl obliged, leaning down and giving her a quick peck on the lips. Once their mouths parted, she allowed herself to just gaze into Amethyst's warm brown eyes, taking comfort in the silence and the feeling of her soft, sand-covered hands. 'I could just stay like this forever...' she thought.

"So hey..." Amethyst said, finally breaking the silence. "Think you're ready to talk about what happened? Or you just wanna chill a little longer? No pressure either way, just... wanna remind you that I'm here to listen."

Pearl turned her gaze downward. "Maybe..." she said, gently swaying back and forth. "Are you ready to listen? Because it's... a lot."

"That's fine." Amethyst said. "It's your day, babe. If you wanna talk about it, you can. If you don't want to, then don't. I just wanna help you feel better."

"Alright..." Pearl said, taking a deep breath. "My... my mother called. She apparently found Jasper's phone number, and I don't really know how. She might even know where I'm living. But the worst part wasn't even that, it's..." Pearl bit her lip, fighting back tears. 'Come on, don't cry before you can even spit it out.' "Peony is missing. I don't know where she is... But my mother thinks she's living with me." A tear streamed down Pearl's cheek. "I just... What if she's in danger, Amethyst? What if she tried to come here and got in an accident, or kidnapped, or --"

"Or maybe your mom is just fucking with you." Amethyst said, squeezing Pearl's hands tight.

Pearl sniffled. "What do you mean...?"

"I mean, what if your mom knows how much this would fuck you up? Maybe she thinks it'll make you come crawling back to her." Amethyst said. "I could be wrong, though, but... you know?"

Pearl rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, trying not to get any of the salt water on her face. "I... I don't know. That could be the case, but... Regardless, the uncertainty is what's killing me the most. I'm almost mad at Peony, in a way, for not telling me what was going on.. And I know that's terribly selfish of me."

"I think you're allowed to be selfish, honestly." Amethyst said. "I mean, your shitty mom crossed a boundary on your birthday and your sister could be missing. If there's any time for you to be selfish, it's now."

"I guess that's true." Pearl sighed. "Still... I just hate feeling helpless. I hate knowing she could be in danger, and that there's nothing I can do about it... I hate feeling like it's my fault."

"Babe, you did what you needed to do to keep yourself sane." Amethyst said. "There is no way this could be your fault. Even if your sister ran away from home because you did, and ended up getting herself in some deep shit, it isn't your fault. Sometimes shitty things happen and there's nobody to blame, but honestly? If anyone's to blame, it's your dickhead mom. But even then, she probably didn't think this'd happen either." Amethyst squeezed Pearl's hands. "But... you know what?" she continued, gazing up into Pearl's eyes. "No matter what happens... I'll be here for you. I'll hold your hand and comfort you when you feel like trash, and I'll be here when your life is going good, too." Amethyst reached up and placed a hand on Pearl's chin, making sure she was looking her in the eyes. "Because your life is going to be good again. I dunno when, but it will, even if it's fifty years from now, and you'll be glad you made it. I promise." Pearl pulled Amethyst into a tight embrace. "Darling... You have no idea how much I needed to hear that. I love you. Thank you so, so much."

Amethyst blushed, returning the hug. "Aw, gosh... I love you too, girlie. I want you to be happy, I really do..."

The two stood in silence as they hugged, listening to the sound of the lapping waves. The sickening feeling of despair still lingered in the pit of Pearl's stomach, but... At the very least, Amethyst's comforting words had dulled it. And if nothing else, she knew that when Amethyst was near, she was safe from any danger that came her way.

[superlucky777boy]

I’ve never really talked about this before, but my little cousin is autistic. My mom worked in a high school special education department for years and it’s where I learned how to help tutor a wide variety of kiddos who aren’t neurotypical, but for this point yes that includes (still) kids who are autistic. The one and only thing all these kids have in common? That they’re autistic. Some have been honestly pretty airheaded despite being “high functioning.” Some have been completely nonverbal but been able to grasp their assignments with just a little help. Some are super obsessed with one topic of study, and if you can manage to relate what they’re trying to learn to it they just go ham trying to learn it because OMG I CAN UNDERSTAND MORE OF MY THING IF I DO ALGEBRA BETTER!!!! Some just plain love to do truly stupid things and yes they know they shouldn’t do it and often why, they just didn’t happen to get a sense of self preservation or watched too much Jackass. One was very good at piano but hated it because he only learned because his mom’s a piano teacher. One was brilliant at any video game you gave him, but was generally an average to above average student objectively. Some are grown up and just living their lives now, with jobs and a house and maybe some family maybe not living with them. At least one still lives at home. And if any of this sounds like a child you’ve babysat or raised or knew growing up....

That’s kinda the point.

My little cousin likes to draw and loves to play and is all about dinosaurs. I love him dearly. He’s possibly my favorite person to be around, even when he won’t stop putting his mouth on me. I kinda hope for a world that understands that one thing about him: he’s just a kid. He doesn’t have to be anything else.

I know we like to talk about as autistic kids who’re geniuses with numbers, or beautiful musicians, or incredible artists. But that’s really not the norm. Autistic kids aren’t all savants. I have an autistic sister, and have worked with people on the spectrum, and most of the time you’ll find that autistic people are just autistic. And they don’t have to make up for it by having a brilliant mind. They don’t have to prove their value by being special in certain areas. They’re valuable because they’re people. Don’t spread the idea that autistic people have to be savants. That’s just perpetuating the idea that impairments are something to be ashamed of

[himbowelsh]

For Baberoe: 5 times Babe kissed someone on a dare and one time he liked it.

AN: damn this got real wild real quick (ft babe/spina, babe/julian, babe/grant/lieb, OF COURSE babe/roe, and catch me sneak my own rarepair in there (tab/shifty)

It’s not so much the idea that Babe should start a kissing marathon as it is the idea that he can’t.

“Not possible,” Bill declares, sounding so sure of himself that Babe wants to punch him on principal. He’s got his arms crossed and is shaking his head. Whenever Bill declares something “not possible”, it probably means nothing good, and whenever he looks that confident, he deserves to get hit.

“What the hell do you mean?” Babe demands, sitting up straight. Bill is unimpressed.

“When was the last time you kissed someone? Like, actually kissed them?” He pauses, allowing Babe a few seconds of contemplation. Babe opens his mouth, closes it again, and that’s all Bill needs to see. “I’ll tell you exactly when. Doris, your junior year of high school.”

Babe remembers Doris well. She had large boobs, brown hair, and lips as hungry as a starving lion. Babe was sure he was supposed to like it, because every time his friends looked at him with her something green and jealous sparked in their eyes. He endured Doris for a whole month before declaring “not again, never again”.

Doris broke up with him on his birthday. It was the best gift she could have given him.

He remembers Doris well (hell, he’s still traumatized from Doris); he just wishes Bill didn’t remember her too.

Spina munches loudly on a carrot stick as he leans forward, eyes alight with interest. Babe hopes he chokes. “Ohh, that the girl who triggered Babe’s Great Gay Awakening?”

Bill nods sagely. “The very one.”

“Legendary.”

Fran looks a little disturbed, like she can’t comprehend anyone being that bad. (And, in truth, she wasn’t that bad, she was just aggressive. Babe would rather not think about it.) Julian, who witnessed the Doris drama and subsequent aftermath firsthand, only looks a little gleeful as he shoves a handful of chips into his mouth.

“I hate you all,” Babe announces. “And I could totally get anyone to kiss me if I wanted to. I could kiss everyone in this room.”

Bill points a thumb at himself, and Babe is forced to quickly revise his earlier statement. “‘Cept you. My lips would fall off if they went anywhere near you.”

This is much better. Bill nods as if this makes perfect sense, while Frannie sends him a thumbs up. Spina just snorts. “Can’t be worse than Darlin’ Doris.”

Maybe it’s this that sets him off. Maybe it’s just that any mention of Doris and Babe’s final, explosive endeavor into heterosexuality is a Button, and Spina just slammed his fist down on the Button so hard that it almost broke. Maybe he’s just mad.

Whatever it is, Babe storms up to Spina, straddles his lap, and plants his lips on his friend’s mouth.

There’s no time for anyone else, let alone poor Spina, to process what’s happening. He goes shock-still against Babe’s kiss, paralyzed. It’s like making out with a brick wall, but Babe is damn determined. He cups the back of Spina’s neck and deepens his kiss. A soft whine sounds in the back of Spina’s throat, and Babe can taste the remnants of carrots.

(He doesn’t even like carrots. Why couldn’t Spina have been eating chocolate?)

It takes a few seconds, but Babe feels the exact moment Spina gives himself up to the kiss. He sags against Babe’s chest, pressing back with his lips, and Babe can feel his friend’s heart rate begin to quicken against his chest.

This, plus the increasing need for air, is his cue to pull away. He draws back to find Spina breathless, panting, totally shell-shocked.

Without a word he slides off of Spina’s lap and turns back to the rest of the room. His friends are all gaping at him in various degrees of shock and confusion. Bill’s jaw has dropped; Julian looks ready to faint; Fran is staring like he’s just sprouted a brand new head.

“It’s been years since you kissed someone?” Spina demands, eyes wide.

Babe’s mouth quirks sideways, an easy confidence taking over his posture. “What can I say?” he shrugs. “I’m out of practice.”

With that, he turns on his heel and strides out of the room. “Challenge accepted, by the way!” he calls over his shoulder. “We’ll see how many people I can kiss!”

He pretends he doesn’t hear the smack of a palm against someone’s forehead, and Spina’s muttered “Jesus” as he makes his way out of the house.

He knows he’s not going to have such an easy time with the next one. He might have been able to wow Spina, but it’s true that he’s out of practice. While his friend’s reaction suggests he has nothing to worry about, Babe still wants to know what he’s doing.

There are probably other people he could ask, but if he’s going off of experience alone, he can think of no one on earth who’s kissed more people than Floyd Talbert.

“You -- you want me?” Tab looks unexpectedly nervous after Babe’s pitch. His hands dig into the knees of his jeans; he looks like he’s not sure whether to laugh or stare.

“Just to teach me. Show me what I’m doing and all that. Nothing personal!”

Babe sits himself down on the bench across from Tab, swinging one leg over to face him. Just behind Tab’s shoulder, Shifty wears a frown on his face. That he’s being silent is not a surprise, but Shifty doesn’t often look troubled by many things. Babe isn’t sure what to think of the expression on his friend’s face now, but it is almost enough to give him pause.

(Does Shifty want Babe to kiss him too? Or is he just upset that Babe’s interrupted their afternoon? Shifty and Tab looked very comfortable together on the bench when Babe spotted them. Shifty had been leaning into Tab’s side as he showed him something on his phone, and they seemed like the picture of good friends. Babe hopes he hasn’t intruded on them hanging out.)

The look on Shifty’s face is almost enough to make him reconsider, but Tab rallies. He takes a deep breath, draws his shoulders up, then turns to his friend.

“I,” he says. “If you don’t want -- do you mind, or --”

Shifty hastily holds up his hands. “No, no, it’s fine.”

“Okay. Great.”

Tab wipes his palms on his knees as he spins back to face Babe. Something about this seems off. Maybe it's the glimmer of nervousness in Tab’s eyes (when has Floyd Talbert ever been nervous about kissing someone); maybe it’s the terse set to Shifty’s jaw; maybe it's just the growing feeling that he's intruding on something he really shouldn't be intruding on. Babe doesn't know, but a part of him regrets kissing Tab and he hasn't even started yet.

“Uhh,” he says as Tab leans in a bit. “Are you -- you sure you know what you're doing --”

“Don't worry,” Shifty pipes up. “He does.” Then Tab’s face flares red, and so does Shifty’s -- and, hell, so does Babe, and he's not even sure why.

Tab bites on his lower lip and squares himself before huffing out an exhale. “Aww hell, Babe, just do it.”

That's all Babe needs to hear. He doesn't hesitate before leaning in and pressing his lips to Tab’s.

It's… not what he expected. He's seen Talbert kiss -- he's seen the heat, the fire, the intensity he can bring to any liplock. The guy is practically a kissing pro, so there’s no reason macking on him should be like liplocking with a dead fish. It is, however. Tab doesn't move, doesn't reciprocate, barely even breathes.

Babe takes notes anyway. He observes the casual positioning of Tab’s body, the way he lets his breathing shallow just so. He notes the movement of his lips, the subtle pressure put into the kiss. It’s all very scientific. Definitely not what Babe was expecting, but he isn’t complaining.

When Talbert pulls back (sooner than Babe expected), he looks like he’s just been stung by a bee. Babe really hopes that’s not the sort of reaction his kiss elicits out of people; his worry must show, because Tab scrambles to reassure him.

“That was good. Great job, Babe, you’ve really… got the hang of it. You satisfied?”

There’s something a little stressed out in his voice, an edge Babe can’t place. He nods, because it’s not a lie, and seems like the right thing to do. Then his eyes flicker back towards Shifty.

It’s like a tiny piece of the world slips out of alignment -- like suddenly the sky is green instead of blue, or a dinosaur pops out of the ground. Babe’s stomach plunges to his feet, while his heart leaps into his throat. An icy chill runs down his spine.

He’s never seen Shifty look angry before. He’s definitely never seen him look like this -- a single stone’s throw away from his eyes going black and starting to scream demonic curses. It’s terrifying. In that moment Babe does not see Shifty, the mild-mannered guy who sits next to him in Philosophy. He sees the same kid who was raised in the Virginia backwoods, and once shot an apple off Hoobler’s head from across the room.

He is seized with the sudden fear that Shifty might carry a gun on him at all times, and in two seconds that gun might be trained on him.

“Uhh, yeah! Sure! Thanks, buddy!” Babe leaps to his feet, hastily clapping Tab on the shoulder. “Sorry for interrupting your guy time, I’ll just go now.”

Talbert says nothing. He still looks a little mortified by the whole ordeal. It’s Shifty who offers him a sweet-as-honey smile and says, “See you around, Babe.”

He has no clue what just happened, but Babe can’t leave them alone fast enough.

Babe’s got his pride, sure; but when put in retrospect, he also has a limited pool of friends. Good friends are hard to come by. Friends you wouldn't mind kissing are even moreso. Friends he'd both be willing to kiss and trust with his life are in short supply, and Julian just barely qualifies for both categories.

If only he'd stop being so stubborn about it.

“Screw off!” Julian hollers, and Babe ducks a pillow aimed at his head. “I ain't kissin’ you!”

Julian’s throaty Alabama twang is leaking into his Philly accent, the way it always does when he's agitated. It makes him kind of sound like he's been gurgling molasses and glass. It's terrifying, and Babe’s lucky he can understand a word he says.

“Don't be like that.” He catches the next pillow that sails at him as Julian ducks behind the couch. “Jules, come on. There's no running away from this.”

“The hell there isn't! You watch me!”

Babe is watching; he wishes he weren't. “Julian.”

He can see his friend’s shadow as he shuffles along the floor. He looks like a baby just getting the hang of crawling. It's a little pathetic. When he takes a step forward, a sneaker comes flying at his head.

“Jules, I'm going to get you!”

“That's a threat! You're threatening me!” Julian hollers back. Babe rolls his eyes.

He studies his friend’s shadow as Julian slowly raises himself into a crouch. He can hear heavy breathing from behind his sanctuary, can see the erratic rhythm of Julian’s shoulders. He counts down the seconds in his head: three… two… one…

Julian sprints, but Babe is ready. He launches himself over the couch, tackling Julian and getting his arms around his shoulders. Julian doesn't go down, but Babe forces him away from the door. He tries to pin Julian against the couch, but Julian just topples backwards, and the both go head over heels.

When Babe gets his bearings again, he's lying on the couch. Julian is pinned under him, looking simultaneously pissed off and defeated.

Babe smirks. “I win.”

It takes a few seconds for Julian to break, but Babe sees the moment he does. The last of the fight drains out of him, and he sighs like Babe’s lips are the greatest imposition ever forced upon him. “Fine,” he mutters. “Lay it on me.”

So, Babe does.

Julian tastes like the coke he was drinking just before Babe ambushed him. His lips are chapped and chewed; he’s holding his breath, his entire body frozen in uncertainty. Has Julian ever kissed anyone before? Babe is pretty sure he has (he has to have, right?) but the lingering uncertainty only fuels his determination to make this kiss count.

He leans into Julian a bit more, deepening the kiss, and allows his tongue to brush against his friend’s lips. Julian lets out a tiny gasp, mouth parting of its own accord, and his fingers dig into Babe’s shoulders. He pulls him closer.

It doesn’t take Babe long to find his rhythm. Kissing, he’s starting to learn, is all about keeping in tune with the other person. It’s like dancing, and he’s one hell of a good dancer, so this is no different. He moves against Julian’s mouth, pressing and lightening at every indication from Julian’s eager lips. He’s not trying to overwhelm his friend, but it’s obvious that Julian’s getting too eager from the way he leans up even when Babe starts to pull back.

Babe presses him back down, breaking away. “Jules,” he huffs, looking into his friend’s dazed face. “Easy. Take it easy.”

He matches his breathing with Julian’s, helping his friend calm his ragged pants. Slowly Julian returns to his senses. “Oh my god,” he murmurs when he’s able to talk again. His head dips back against the couch, and he squeezes his eyes shut.

Babe isn’t sure what he did, but he’s pretty positive he broke him. “Uhh… Jules?”

“Get off me, Babe,” Julian tells him, so that’s what Babe does.

“So, this is a dare, right?”

Babe shrugs, taking a long sip of his beer before setting it down on the table again. “Something like that. I guess. It's hard to explain, ya know?”

Grant hums in agreement, while Liebgott snorts into his own drink. “Oh yeah. Yup. Real rocket science.”

“I'm just amazed he's gotten so many people to kiss him this far,” Liebgott drawls, leaning in with that all-too-familiar smirk on his face. “Spina? Julian? I can see them, but Talbert while he was on a date? That takes some balls.”

It takes Babe a second to process this. He blinks, not quite understanding what Liebgott is saying, until he remembers the dark look in Shifty’s eyes, and the radiating anxiety of Talbert. Oh, he thinks to himself. Realization drops onto his head like an anvil. Huh. That makes sense.

“What a legend,” agrees Grant. “You're really proving your point.”

Babe glares into his beer. He needs better friends. “I guess.”

He doesn’t see Grant and Liebgott exchange glances, but he can imagine it. He knows how his friends’ brains work. They have the same brand of semi-malicious deviousness (which Liebgott conceals beneath hard-shelled sarcasm, and Grant with smooth charisma) that comes out at the worst times. Babe has his own wicked streak, which is probably why they all get along so well.

He knows his friends are planning something as soon as Liebgott gets out of his seat and swings around to Babe’s side of the booth. Babe allows it, raising an eyebrow at his friend. Liebgott only smirks, resting his chin on his hand.

“So?” he says. “Show me what you got.”

“What? No.” Babe doesn’t know why he wasn’t expecting this, but… it’s not happening. Liebgott is an attractive guy, to be sure (almost painfully attractive, with smooth skin, high cheekbones, and hair to die for) but that doesn’t mean Babe wants to put his lips on his friend. Kissing Liebgott and Grant, he feels, is crossing a line that doesn’t exist with the guys he’s been friends with all his life. With Bill and Julian, there are no boundaries. With his college friends, however --

“Babe.” Liebgott is closer now, near enough that Babe’s vision is filled with his plump red lips. It would be so easy to just lean in…

“Do it,” Liebgott whispers, and so Babe does.

Unlike everyone else, Liebgott is ready, experienced, and eager. As soon as Babe’s lips are on his, he feels a hand sneak up to cup the back of his neck. Not to be outdone, Babe kisses deeper and sucks a bit of Liebgott’s bottom lip into his mouth. He feels the other man huff against him, a small satisfied noise escaping Liebgott’s throat.

He’s not sure why he didn’t think Liebgott would be an aggressive kisser, but he is. Teeth nip at Babe’s lips. Liebgott sucks, ambitious and determined, unafraid to get close. By the time  they part for air Babe is breathless for a different reason. He’s not certain whether he was kissing Liebgott, or Liebgott was kissing him.

His friend offers him a tiny smirk, and Babe forces himself to breathe. What the hell was that?

“No need to look so shocked,” Grant chimes, sounding thrilled. When Babe looks up at him, he sees his friend is watching him with a glint in his eye. “My turn.”

“You’re kidding me,” Babe says -- and that’s all he has time to say, because suddenly Grant is sitting on the other side of him, and Liebgott is watching them both expectantly.

Babe has two options here. He could put a stop to all of this, here and now; or he could roll with it.

Ahh, what the hell? Any damage has already been done. How much worse can it get from here?

“I’m choosing to believe you guys are just trying to be helpful friends,” Babe tells them; then he grabs Grant by the front of his shirt and pulls him forward to kiss him.

Kissing Grant is sweeter than kissing Liebgott, but twice as sensual. He’s certainly not shy. After a few seconds of Babe’s lips moving against his, Grant places his hands on Babe’s elbows and guides him along, pulling him closer. This time Babe is the one to feel a tongue brush against his lips, and he can’t help the soft moan that leaves him.

When Grant pulls away, Babe feels a little dizzy, but he still manages to smile. “Real helpful,” he echoes, and Grant huffs out a throaty chuckle.

“You’re one hell of a kisser, Heffron,” he tells him. “Too bad I’m better.”

That’s when Babe has to pull away and down the rest of his drink, because he feels a little like he’s burning up. That’s definitely not a feeling he should be getting from his friends, and he doesn’t want to think too deep into it, so he drains the rest of his (mostly full) glass before slamming it down on the table.

“Okay. Uhh. Anyone feel like darts?”

“Sounds good,” Grant says, and finishes off his shot. Liebgott is already out of his seat and walking towards the dartboard.

They don’t mention it for the rest of the night.

After Doris and all she entailed, Babe made a very solemn vow to himself. Girls were not for him. Dating girls was not his thing; touching them was not up his alley; kissing them was not a thing he wanted to do. After Doris, he swore he would never kiss another girl again.

He has no desire to. He has no reason to.

Frannie Peca is very good at giving people reasons to do things.

“Come on,” she coaxes, inching closer to Babe on the sofa. He, in turn, scoots further back. “It doesn't mean anything! Geez, Babe, of course not! Bill and I are practically married. I just can't stand the thought of you being… you know, being --”

“Scarred?” Babe volunteers. “Haunted?”

Fran snaps her fingers. “Exactly. Whatever that girl did to you, you've gotta know that there's more to kissing girls than… that.”

Babe takes a deep breath. Never again, echoes a voice in the back of his mind. He doesn't know how to express his resolution to Fran without sounding pathetic, though, so he just frowns. Of course kissing Fran wouldn't mean anything -- hell, she’s practically his sister -- but kissing her sounds as appealing as putting his lips on a fish.

(He’s seen the way she and Bill make out. It’s like two wild animals trying to gnaw each others’ faces off. Babe doesn’t want to get anywhere near that.)

“Frannie,” he says, “I like you, I appreciate you, and I know you’d kill a man for me. I just don't trust that you won't try to eat me.”

Fran looks like she wants to laugh out loud. Instead she tilts her head, sending Babe a cool look. “‘I could kiss everyone in this room,’” she sings out, pitching her voice in an (alarmingly accurate) impression of Babe. He can't help wincing.

He did say that. He remembers those words coming out of his mouth like it was yesterday, and he meant it, too. Of all the ways to cap off his kissing marathon, macking one on the girlfriend of the guy who dared him in the first place seems like as good a finale as any.

“Jesus,” he sighs, then leans in. “Fine. Pucker up, Frannie.”

“That's the least romantic thing you could ever say before kissing someone --” Fran comments, because she's just as bad as Bill at shutting her mouth. Babe does it for her, cutting her off by cupping the back of her neck in his hand and pulling her forward. She doesn't get the chance to squeal in surprise; a second later, Babe’s lips are pressed against hers.

Frannie isn’t a bad kisser, Babe will give her that. She’s also not over-aggressive. She knows where Babe’s boundaries are, and she’s mindful not to cross them. She lets him take the lead, kissing back only when she feels him kiss her. Babe’s jaw is tight with tension until a manicured hand comes up to slowly massage it.

He’s more concerned about the lipstick he’s probably getting on his face than his body’s (expected, at this point) lack of physical reaction. When Fran breaks away from him, there’s an inquiring look in her eyes. Babe licks his lips and shrugs.

“Okay, I give,” he says. “You’re a better kisser than Doris.”

“You better believe it,” Fran retorts, sounding delighted.

That would and should have been the end of it -- but at that moment, the door had to slam open. Bill takes two steps in the room and stops cold. He takes in Babe’s lipstick-covered face, his girlfriend’s hand still lingering on top of Babe’s own, and his eyes go huge.

“Yo,” says Babe.

Bill charges at him.

“THE ONE GUY,” he hollers as he pursues Babe around the room like an incensed bull. “THE ONE GUY I DIDN’T HAVE TO FUCKIN’ WORRY ABOUT!”

“Bill, for fuck’s sake, sit down,” Fran snaps, leaning back against the sofa.

“I’LL WRING YOUR SCRAWNY GINGER NECK!”

Babe can’t say anything, because he’s too busy running for dear life. He’s gone up against a livid Bill before, and knows the odds are not in his favor. Also, Bill protecting Frannie is like Angry Bill times five, so his threats to kill him might very well be serious.

“Jesus -- christ --” he shouts over his shoulder as he sprints up the stairs. “Bill, it was for the contest, you know I wouldn’t --”

“YOU KISSED MY GIRL FOR THE STUPID CONTEST?”

Admittedly, Babe’s judgement may have been flawed.

He makes it up the stairs with Bill three feet behind him, and sprints for his room. If he can just get the door closed and locked, he’ll be safe. He’ll jump out the window if he has to, but at least he won’t face death at the hands of charging Bill --

They’re always telling Julian to get his sneakers out of the damn hallway, and Julian never listens. Julian really should listen.

Babe goes down like a ton of bricks, and the last thing he sees is a doorknob rushing towards his face.

When he opens his eyes again, he’s in the backseat of Fran’s car, and the first thing he sees is blood in his hair. He makes a noise like a startled cat, and tries to sit up, only for a pair of hands to gently hold him still.

“Easy,” says a voice that Babe’s fuzzy mind takes a moment to recognize as his best friend’s. “You’re fine, Babe. Just don’t move.”

Babe blinks up at Bill, who’s two shades of pale as he cradles his head in his lap. He offers what he hopes is an apologetic smile. “It didn’t mean a thing,” he says. “It was just the dare. Sorry, buddy.”

Bill huffs out a strained laugh, and shakes his head. “Shut up, Heffron. I know. It’s okay, I know.”

At this point, Babe is a regular face at the local emergency clinic. He comes in often enough with various injuries, ranging from drunken accidents, ill-advised consumption of dubious foods, to regular old clumsiness. Bill has driven him to the hospital bleeding enough times that he’s stopped warning Babe not to get blood all over his car. (“I swear to god,” he muttered a few medical bills ago, “those nurses are gonna think we’re all knocking ya around or somethin’.”)

On the contrary, the nurses at the clinic all know Babe at this point, and like him. When he stumbles through the doors this time, Bill supporting him as he holds a towel full of ice to his forehead, Anna looks up from her desk and smiles her exasperated smile at him.

“What is it this time, Babe?” she asks. “Did you fall out a window? Slip at the pool?”

Babe shakes his head, ignoring how woozy it makes him feel. “Anna, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Renee is the one who shows him to his bed and takes his vitals, so she gets the full story. When Babe gets to the part about the sneakers, she clicks her tongue. She also doesn’t look surprised, and Babe’s not sure what that says about him.

“Doctor Roe will be here in a moment,” she tells him, giving him a fond pat on the shoulder after adjusting the pillow beneath his head. “Try not to injure anything else while you wait.”

Babe rolls his eyes, then regrets it, because that actually hurts. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he replies, and Renee grins at him.

Once he's finally left alone (Bill and Fran, both used to the “get Babe to the hospital” drill by now, have gone to the smoothie place down the street -- because they're  supportive friends) Babe leans back against the pillow and allows himself to grin. Gene Roe is his favorite doctor, and one of his favorite people in general. He's stitched Babe up enough times that he could practically recite Babe’s entire medical history, yet he still insists on calling him Edward. He has a quiet, understated sense of humor, and a smile just as delightful. Babe has never seen steamer hands or kinder eyes. He's never met anyone like Gene Roe.

(So he's completely in love with his doctor. Sue him. He's here enough, he thinks he has the right.)

He's not really looking forward to telling Doc Roe this story, however. Roe already thinks he's kind of an idiot, but this will really be the nail in his coffin.

When the doctor walks in, wearing his crisp white lab coat and dark shadows under his eyes, Babe perks up. Roe looks him over and sighs, utterly unsurprised.

“I was hoping we wouldn't have to see you back here for awhile,” says Roe, setting down Babe’s chart.

“Aww, come on, Gene. You know I'm you favorite patient.”

“Most frequent patient,” Roe corrects, but he has a tiny smile on his lips. “What did you in today, Edward?”

Babe offers a sheepish smile. “Doc,” he says, “would you believe me if I told you this was all for a stupid dare?”

To his credit, Roe doesn't look fazed. Babe often wonders how often he hears this type of thing, or if he's just one of those people who nothing can get to. Either way, the slightly quirk of his eyebrows makes Babe fall even more in love.

“That so? What sort of dare is this?”

“A kissing dare.” Babe can't keep the boast out of his voice. “Friend of mine bet me I couldn't get a buncha people to kiss me. I told him I could. It was all going great for a while, too.”

“Lemme guess. Until you kissed his girlfriend.”

Babe can't help chuckling, a little embarrassed. “How'd you know?”

As Roe spreads the numbing alcohol over the cut in Babe’s temple, he huffs out what could almost be called a laugh. “I’ve got a sixth sense for these things, Heffron. Plus, you’re not hard to figure out.”

What does that mean? Surely Roe doesn’t think he’s the type of guy to go around kissing other people’s girlfriends. That’s so far from Babe that they’re not even on the same level. “Aww, come on, Gene. It wasn’t like that. I’m not like that, believe me.”

He doesn’t wince at the feeling of the needle entering his skin. He’s too focused on the way Roe’s eyebrow quirks, as if Babe has just handed him a very interesting piece of information and he’s struggling to decide what to make of it.

“Not like that…” he echoes, and Babe huffs a breath.

“I like guys, for one. Plus, I’d never do anything like that to anyone. I’m a hell of a lot of things, but no one’ll say I ain’t loyal.”

This is not a conversation they’ve had before. For as many times as Babe has bantered with Gene, has admired him, has soaked up every bit of information he could learn about this enigmatic doctor -- he never shared this piece of himself.

He’s a little surprised at how interested Gene looks now. Almost... happy.

Gene doesn’t say another word for a long moment. There is only the sting of the needle stitching Babe’s skin, and Babe’s eyes boring into the doctor’s face. Only after Gene is done and has clipped the stitch does he say, “I know you’re loyal. I can tell that much.”

“I thought you had a sixth sense,” Babe jokes, and Gene huffs a small laugh.

“I don’t know what I’ve got,” he answers, and sets the needle aside. “So. Did it count?” When Babe raises his eyebrows, Gene shrugs. “The kiss. Did it count, even though she was Bill’s girlfriend? Or did it count, even though she was a girl?”

Babe feels a spark of something inside of him -- something crazy, hopeful, a little delirious. It might be that concussion talking, but he has the sudden image of Gene’s lips pressed to his, and feels a surge of bravery he didn’t know he had.

“I guess not,” he says. “I need one more kiss, then.”

Gene’s eyes come to rest on him. Babe stares back, calm despite the fireworks in his stomach.

When Gene sits down next to him on the bed, Babe feels almost giddy. “Let me get a look at that cut, Heffron.”

Gene’s fingers brush across his skin, leaving electricity in their wake. He is close, close enough that all it would take is to lean in a little bit, and Babe wants to but he’s also terrified.

“Gene,” he whispers. “Can I…”

Gene swallows. His head bobs, just the slightest bit, and Babe closes the distance between them.

He’s imagined kissing Gene (an embarrassing amount of times before), but no fantasy holds a candle to the real thing. Gene’s kiss is slow and soft, just enough to leave Babe yearning for more. When he presses further, determined to kiss Gene like he’s never been kissed before, a spark seems to pass between them; and suddenly Babe can’t get enough.

He grips Gene by the elbows, pulling him close. In response, Gene wraps his arms around Babe’s shoulders and leans in. At the same time, Babe’s lower lip is sucked into Gene’s mouth, and a rush of euphoria bursts inside of him. He can’t help but groan against Gene’s lips, and this only spurs the other man on.

By the time Gene’s tongue is in his mouth, Babe’s head is spinning. He can’t breathe; he couldn’t think, even if he wanted to. All he feels, all he wants to feel, is Gene, and dear god, Gene is perfect.

When they part for breath, the world spins around them both. Gene’s exhales are ragged; every rush of air in Babe’s lungs makes him feel like he’s drowning. His eyes are full of Gene’s own dark pools, his skin is electric from his touch, and he can’t quite remember who he is.

Slowly, slowly, Gene leans back. He’s smiling.

“You get extra points if you get someone’s number, too?”

And Babe doesn't know what to say, feels kind of like he’s been struck by lightning, so all he's able to do is not. “Yeah,” he croaks out. “Totally.”

Gene -- so handsome, so kissable Gene-- smiles and pulls out a pen. Babe barely has the chance to register what’s happening as the felt tip scrawls a series of numbers across the back of his hand before being recapped with a satisfying clink.

Gene nods to himself, approving his own work. He studies Babe’s hand, then his face, and a small smile quirks his lips. “That shouldn’t scar. Take it easy for a few days, just in case you do have a small concussion, but you seem alright. Don’t go tripping over any more shoes.”

Babe swallows. “I’ll do my best, Gene.”

With one last cryptic smile, Gene leaves him alone in the room. Babe takes a moment to catch his breath before slumping forward, pressing a hand to the uninjured side of his face.

He knows two things for sure: this ordeal is well-and-truly over; and that was the best dare he’s ever taken.

(Three things, he reconsiders as he enters Gene Roe’s number into his phone. He’s definitely going to stop visiting the clinic so much, because he’s got a funny feeling his doctor is up for house calls.)

[skeletorific]

Underswap Headcanons

So I’ve been thinking a lot lately about Underswap and how I differentiate it from Undertale. I’ve never really had the words to it before, but something I’ve come to understand is that I think while the characters maintain the external personality and appearance of the person they’ve been swapped with, their dark side, their insecurities, the lines they’ll cross, the parts only close friends and family know...they are retained from their Tale selves. This underside, however, expresses itself through the lens of the externals, creating a fusion that at times can resemble both but allows the personality to become its own. I’ll be writing some basic profiles of the major characters, including some of those that I don’t write for often. I will be leaving out Chara and Frisk though. Not because I don’t have headcanons for them, but because in order to understand my swaps for them, you’d have to understand my Tale headcanons for them, which is a post in its own right.

(may do this for Swapfell, but then I’d have to get into the whole Fellswap Swapfell thing and that’s a whoooole can of worms)

Asgore: Alright, in fairness, Asgore and Toriel have always been pretty similar. Maybe its because they spent so much time as a couple. Still, there are some differences. In Underswap, Asgore has UT!Toriel’s caretaking instincts for lost souls as well as her more stringent ethics (there is right and wrong and very little in between). He also inherits the love of puns. From his original self, however, he gained a certain unacknowledged resignation. While he has a stronger sense of right and wrong than his Tale self, he shares a similar sense of doom, and that no matter what he desires, in the end, what will happen is what will happen. He will not fight as hard to keep the human there, nor does he connect as strongly, because he seems burdened by an understanding that he cannot save them. All of his children leave, and rather than trying to cloister them, as Tale!Toriel did, he in the end builds more walls around himself, tries to provide for them without getting his heart broken. He returns in the True Pacifist ending ultimately because he decides he is tired of trying to protect himself. That this is not what his son and Frisk would’ve wanted. He also resents Toriel less than Tale!Toriel resents her ex. While he still finds her actions despicable, there is a subconscious part of him that envies the fact that she still had the strength to care for their people while he shut down.

Sans: (special thanks to @nighttimepixels for putting my thinking on this track)Externally, he’s identical to Tale!Papyrus almost to the point of caricature. Bouncy, enthusiastic, optimistic, the Underground’s ray of sunshine who seems like he’s never had a bad thought in his life.....but the truth is, no one’s that perfect. Blue is pretty naturally upbeat. He prefers to see the best in people and though he’s often let down he finds that when that trust is rewarded its worth it. But in many cases his reputation outpaces his actuality. Still, the largest thing he inherited his Tale!Sans? The desire to keep secrets. To protect himself, to avoid problems by just hiding it all under a more digestible front. Even Papyrus doesn’t totally know how low he can get. How garbage his self-esteem can be. How isolated he can feel from others. Because the lower he gets the higher in gear he kicks it. More bounce! More pizazz! More magnificence! He’s Sans the Skeleton, everyone’s support system! He...he doesn’t get low days. Honest! From a more positive perspective, Blue is a little less dependent on the opinion’s of others than Papyrus. As long as they aren’t upset, then honestly they can have whatever opinion of him that they want. To clarify, he of course wants to be seen as impressive, kind, and a force to be reckoned with, but he copes a bit better with his lack of popularity that Tale!Papyrus, and is less desperate to please. While both have a strong code of ethics, Blue is more likely to burn a bridge over a violation of it (though of course hoping they will come around), while Papyrus has a harder time doing that.

Papyrus: The first time he meets Tale Sans, Sans can’t help but feel a strange rush of envy. Stretch is lazy, sure, lives like garbage and can’t commit to much. But he’s so damn charming. He seems to have retained Original Papyrus’ showmanship instincts just enough to talk his way into anything, leave just as much of an impression as he wants, or go ignored if that’s what he desired. And while in general he’s as directionless as Tale, when he wants something he rarely has trouble getting it. Motivation isn’t his default but it is a reservoir he has immense capacity to draw on. Still, there’s a lot (a LOT) Stretch doesn’t show. That dependency on people’s opinion that Blue missed? Guess who inherited it. Because yeah, he walks around like he doesn’t give a damn what anyone thinks of him, like he’s got it all figured out and could talk circles around you if he wanted. But Stretch is CONSTANTLY assessing himself and other people’s perception of him. Even if he doesn’t want to be adored, he wants to be remembered, thought of as funny, clever, or hell, even annoying, just as long as its the impression he wants to give off. He walks a fine line of wanting no one to see the real him while wanting someone to just see him for who he is and VALIDATE it. His self-confidence struggles are tangentially related to Tale Sans, but while Tale tends to just shrug and write himself off as a lost cause, Stretch can’t stop himself from trying to micromanage his own personality. He has a fixation on controlling himself. In light of the RESETs, its one of the last things he can control. Even the smoking habit was intentional. He wanted a coping mechanism, as well as a good reason to be alone when he wanted to be. It sounds cliche, but if Stretch really wanted to quit he could’ve done it no problem years ago. He struggles with anxiety as opposed to Tale’s depression, and is quite a bit more extroverted.

Muffet: Muffet’s similarities to her Tale self largely relate to motivations. She works her bakery/bar to provide money for her spider family members in Hotland. As the strongest of her kind only she could bear Snowdin’s cold, and it allowed her a business opportunity (given that Swap Grillby has a stranglehold on the Hotland food market only barely broken by Napstaton’s resort) to provide for her family. Outwardly, she is near identical to Tale Grillby. Quiet, responsible, with an unexpected humor only a select few regulars are privy to. Still, she kept her Tale self’s cutthroat side. While she’s a decent person and generally is willing to help others, if the choice came between an innocent and any member of her family, she would give up the innocent practically instantaneously. She’s also a tightfist and can be extremely unreasonable about money. Stretch doesn’t talk about it much but there was an incident where she came to him about his tab and he treated the matter a little too light-heartedly.....she apologized afterwards but he’s never let the bill stand that long since. To her, nothing is more important than her ability to provide and protect for her people. 

Alphys: She’s got all of Tale Undyne’s rough and tumble, “FIGHT ME” intensity, as well as her softer, gentler desire to help all monsterkind. But this dinosaur doesn’t have nearly the same confidence. Not that she’d ever admit to it. But Alph struggles with her belief in herself. She believes in Blue, in Toriel, in Undyne, in all of her friends, really. But rarely in herself. Toriel never needed to correct her during training, Alphys berated herself, often way past what was necessary. She can do a hundred perfect moves, trip once, and that’s the only thing she’ll remember. Still, she covers that lack of confidence with quite a bit of aggression. Though Tale!Undyne had her angry moments, Alphys can come off as downright cranky. She also retained a tactical brilliance from Tale!Alphys, and a secret nerd side that she represses. No one is allowed in her room because that’s where she keeps all the....*whispers* books. Part of what drew her to Undyne was that she’s allowed to openly love what Alphys feels she must keep to herself. After all, warriors don’t READ! Right?!?!?!

Undyne: Awkward, shy, nerdy, stammering......and full of PASSION! Seriously, she keeps it on the DL, but she is almost as intense as her Tale self. Pencils she chews on end up bitten in half before she knows what she’s doing. She’s thrown laptops across the room in her excitement over new breakthroughs. And that’s not counting all the broken mugs. She definitely does not know her own strength. She also has Tale!Undyne’s tendency to make swift judgments (like with Frisk and Papyrus to an extent) and stick to them until she has no choice but to reassess. A prime example? Mettablook. Once she determined that their cousin was a better candidate for the robotics project....well, she wasn’t exactly rude, but she could be a bit callous. Frankly, she didn’t have much use for them, and could be unreasonable about their requests for her to make them a body, saying curtly that she didn’t have the resources to spare for such a secondary project. On the more positive side, while she’s definitely awkward, she doesn’t struggle as much with confidence as Tale!Alphys. Her isolation is more incidental to her focus on her job (and, well, the internet). Socializing isn’t nearly as agonizing for her. She keeps in touch with Stretch despite them not working together. She simply doesn’t let people get too close so they don’t find out about the little surprise in her basement....

And speaking of Mettablook....

Mettablook (Hapstablook?): (sidenote, I’ll be using he/him pronouns since that’s what Mettaton uses in-game) When it comes to Napsta and Metta, I see their Swap being more role than personality focused. Like, Metta definitely got more of Napstablook’s shyness, but in general he is very close to how I imagine pre-robo Mettaton. He has a flair for performance, a love for anything that sparkles, and a fierce loyalty to his circle of friends. With one major difference. He wasn’t the one who met Undyne first. That was his cousin. As a result, Napsta was the one chosen for the robot program. While Metta....was stuck with the farm. As opposed to Napstablook’s crushed self-esteem, though, his route to coping with being....well, abandoned by one of the few people he thought would stick around for ever, is active denial that it hurt even a little. No, really, he’s very happy for his cousin. No big that they never call or write or visit....really, he’s sure they’re busy or something. He honestly can’t be bothered to think about it with all his responsibilities. Really. Its total bullshit and everyone knows it, but he’ll hold fast to that exterior. And while his confidence isn’t quite as shattered, he’s not nearly the performer he used to be when Chara finds him. He’s trying to rationalize why his cousin wouldn’t take him with them. Was....was this their way of letting them down easy? Are they trying to tell him that he was never as good as he thought? He still practices, but he’s far more private about it. The way you would know he’s ready for MERCY is if he shows you one of his poses, actually.

Napstaton (they/them pronouns) There’s two sides to this DJ. Their on stage persona is actually very laid back, something of a very optimistic surfer dude. They’re go-with-the flow, has tousled robo hair (okay, its been engineered to look tousled) and in general just happy to meet you. While Tale Mettaton’s emphasis is on performance, Napstaton’s first and foremost concern is the music they play and write. They don’t do television shows, but concerts and music specials. Underneath the cool exterior, though, this bot is a HOT MESS. All Napstas, regardless of universe, struggle with low self-esteem and the fear that everyone secretly hates them. When they got their chance at celebrity they had hoped this would be less of an issue. But its not. If anything, its worse, because they’re worried every minute that they’ll mess it up, that the penny will drop and everyone will see them for the garbage heap that they are. They can’t let that happen. So they focus on everything to do with their career. They hole up for days agonizing over their music. They spend hours choosing outfits carefully so they don’t look like they took hours to choose. They never see their cousin anymore, and visits with Undyne are rare and usually as short as they can make them. It makes them something of a selfish person, focused entirely on their image and how they interact with the world. Still, they have a very sweet nature that comes out especially after Chara gives them their wake up call, and they really do love their friends.

Toriel: Gracious, wise, powerful, and in charge. She has all the qualities the Underground seems to require. Along with Tale!Toriel’s impressive dedication to those she cares about and her maternal instincts she combines UT!Asgore’s utter devotion to their people. The killing of children is not something she takes any pleasure in. But she tries to bury her it in the hope of her people. With each SOUL they get closer and closer to freedom. Surely that has to be enough. She also commands a lot more respect than UT!Asgore does, and you are not likely to hear her referred to as “Queen Fluffybuns” anytime soon. Still, she didnt just carry over Toriel’s good qualities. While UT!Asgore mostly wrestled with his own guilt, Swap Toriel is overwhelmingly lonely. Which seems odd. After all, she’s surrounded by people. But there is a certain distance that she has to maintain as a ruler, that prevents many from getting close. With Asgore’s desparture, she’s lost the last person that she felt she could emotionally connect with. Its turned her....a little desperate. And a lot overprotective. Alphys had to fight for years  to get her permission to join the Guard, simply because she didn’t want her hurt. Undyne has a tough time of it keeping the Amalgams hidden because Toriel is always visiting and sticking her snout in every direction. Even when they hit the Surface she has a tendency to hover over Chara’s activites and make up reasons to show up at Asgore’s house. Someone give this woman a hug and let her know everyone’s gonna be okay.

[havendance]

I just keep falling now that you’re gone

Summary:

After losing Marinette, Adrien will do anything to get her back, even becoming the very villain he once fought. When Papillion rises once again over Paris, Emma and Louis find a ring and a pair of earrings in their rooms they become the new Ladybug and Chat Noir. And so, Adrien fights his children, and Emma and Louis fight their Father. None of them know who their enemy really is.

read on fanfiction.net or ao3

This is really long. You have been warned

Quick info before you read. You can skip this if you want. In this world a friend reveal took place between Alya, Nino, Marinette, and Adrien, I’m not bringing Fox!Alya or Bee!Chloe in, and when Ladybug and Chat Noir defeated Papillion, they retrieved his miraculous but failed to discover who he was.

Before they had kids, Adrien's greatest fear was that he would end up like his Father. Sure, he had other fears: losing the people he loved, dinosaurs (he had never gotten over that time Ladybug had jumped into the mouth of one), drowning (being Chat Noir had done nothing for that one), and he could never make it all the way through any of the horror movies that Marinette and Nino insisted on watching. But turning into his Father was the one that seemed the most real and threatening, as if one day he would just decide to hole up in his office and discover that whatever was going on in there was so much more important than spending time with his family.

So, when his and Marinette's first children were born, (Marinette had twins! Two little bundles of joy that never seemed to sleep or be quiet at the same time. Adrien had never before loved sleep as much as he did then.) he vowed to be the Father that he had always wanted to have. He attended school plays and soccer games, helped out with school projects and homework, and kissed away the skinned knees and other little boo-boos that came with the adventures of childhood.

And, over time, he very nearly forgot about the fear that had once seemed to be so real and dangerous.

Emma and Louis (and later little Hugo) were the lights of his life. Adrien couldn't see why his Father hadn't seen the joy that came with little children. How they laughed and cried and filled life with joy and wonder. But he didn't like to think about it much, there was no need to dwell on the past when the future looked so bright.

Adrien got a job that would allow him to work from home. Marinette was always rushing about what with one thing or another(She had achieved her dream of becoming a fashion designer, Adrien only wished that it didn’t make her so busy). So he stayed at home and cooked(he wasn't as good as Marinette, but he was getting better) and cleaned and looked after the kids. She had her dream job, and he had all the time in the world to spend with his kids. They were both happy and their life was as close to perfect as a life could get.

When they discovered that Marinette was expecting again, Adrien was overjoyed at first. But all too soon, joy turned to worry, and worry to all out fear when she diagnosed with cancer. It didn't seem to be real. How could Marinette, energetic, healthy Marinette, who never got sick have cancer? Adrien didn’t want to believe it. She could beat anything, he had seen her do it often enough.

And Marinette, Marinette had always been the brave one. She looked her doctors in the eye and told them that her baby was her number one priority and she was not going to sign up for any treatments that could potentially harm the little girl.

The doctors tried to talk her out of it. They tried to tell her that if she carried the child to term, treatments would likely be less effective and her chances of survival would go down. Way down. They told her that if she insisted on going through with this, it would kill her. She didn't budge an inch. She never budged an inch.

Adrien tried  to talk her out of it.  It didn’t change her mind. She wouldn’t listen to his pleas. The strong will and determination that he had always loved about her before, now became a source of heartbreak.

So Adrien stopped trying.  What else was he supposed to do? He became the strong, supportive spouse. He tried to act like nothing was wrong, like it could get better, like he wasn't terrified and sad and happy all at once everytime that he talked to her, everytime he heard her laugh, everytime she showed him one of her designs. She never slowed down even when she was sick. It was just how she was.

He wanted to tell her to just get an abortion, that they could have other kids but there would never be another Marinette. He wanted to scream and shout and tell her that he didn't want her to die, that he would pay any price to keep her by his side. But it wouldn't do anything. Marinette had been a hero for far too long to stop now.

She gave birth to a beautiful baby girl who the splitting image of her mother. Marinette refused to let anyone else hold little Marie, even as her condition rapidly deteriorated despite the best treatment the hospital could offer.  In the end,Adrien could only watch as she slowly died despite the efforts of the doctors.

He was devastated.

Without Marinette, his life was grey where it had once been filled with color. The things that had once brought him joy with her by his side, now only brought sadness, painful reminders of what he had lost.

Friends brought meals and condolences. They told stories of their fond memories of her and wore the clothes that she had designed for them. They laughed and cried and remembered at the funeral. They didn’t know anything.

Casseroles wouldn’t bring his wife back, and the memories they shared were mere shadows of who she had been. Nothing could recreate the vivacity that she had had, the wonder and joy that she had brought to his life. The energy and magic that seemed to spread to anything she touched.

Adrien tolerated their well-meaning comments for a time, but eventually he asked them to leave. He needed time alone with his thoughts.

If only there was a way to bring her back.

The thought pervaded his mind. It creeped into every corner, growing like a weed, it’s long tendrils reaching into every corner of his mind. Just as all roads lead to Rome, all thoughts he had seemed to lead back to that one enduring point.

No. There was no use in thinking about things like that. It was impossible. No matter what he wished she was still dead. And death was irreversible.

Or was it?

He remembered something he had heard a long time ago: The ladybug and black cat miraculouses together could grant the power of a god. Would it be enough power to bring someone back from the dead? Was there a way for him to see Marinette again? To hear her teasing laugh and feel the warmth of her embrace?

If there was, Adrien was willing to pay any price.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Louis knew  Emma was the responsible one, everyone knew. And, for the most part, he saw no reason to change that. His older sister (by 15 minutes, though sometimes he wished it was longer) was so much more competent than him. She could organize their family blindfolded. With one arm tied behind her back. Who was he to get in her way?

The two of them were like night and day. She had black hair that was always pulled back neatly in a ponytail and Papa’s green eyes. He had longish blond hair that was all shaggy and never seemed to cooperate with him and Maman’s blue eyes. She was organised and precise. She never turned in anything late, if Louis turned in anything on time, it was the exception, not the rule. He was of what Maman used to call an “artistic temperament”. He called it not paying attention to anything he didn’t care about and devoting all his time to things that did. He had claimed the role of family slack off early on in life and was loathe to give it up any time soon.

But now, Maman was dead, and Papa rarely showed up except for meals, and even then it wasn’t surprising if his chair was empty. Emma was starting to look very frazzled(which was never a good sign, even before she started running the house), and they couldn’t live on casseroles forever. If they did, Louis was going to be sick from casserole overdose. Probably sooner rather than later.

So, after a lot of intensive soul searching, he decided to try his hand at cooking. It couldn’t be that different from painting or sculpting, right? After all, you just mix together a bunch of ingredients, throw it in the oven,  and all of a sudden you’ve got something delicious. Food was like art that you appreciated with your stomach instead of your eyes. And Louis was an artist. An artist who was going to be sick if he had to eat another casserole. Which was more than enough motivation for him to decide to actually do something around the house for once. He was not giving up his role as family slack off, his motivations were purely selfish.

Despite his self proclaimed role as a slack off, he wasn’t totally useless, despite what his friends might think. Everyone around him was treating him like he was made of glass, acting like he might break or burst into tears at any minute. Sure, his Maman was dead, and he was sad and all, but people died all the time, and life moved on. He just wasn’t going to think about how it wasn’t the same without her there to admire his art, or draw with him, or make cookies after a long day while he just talked and she just listened. Well, maybe he missed her a little, but it was just easier not to think about it.

Cooking. He was focusing on cooking. He was most definitely not moping around. Louis did not mope. He was a joker, a happy go lucky sort of guy, one who was in no way still mourning over his mother’s death, and one who was focusing on cooking.

As soon as he started looking around the kitchen, Louis realised he had a problem: what should he make? He hadn’t thought this far in advance. Well, it should definitely be something simple. Maybe… spaghetti? Spaghetti was easy enough, you just tossed some noodles into boiling water and dumped a jar of sauce over it. Simple.

After taking a quick inventory of the kitchen, Louis ran out the door and down to the supermarket to get some spaghetti sauce. He left the water boiling with the pasta in it.

He was never a very patient sort of fellow, so it would it just  be easier if he killed two birds with one stone for the prep work.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Adrien looked down at the butterfly brooch in his hand. It seemed to small and innocent to have caused such terror and chaos in Paris more than twenty years ago. The last man who had last worn this brooch had been a villain. There was no denying that. To say that Adrien... disliked the reputation that the broach had developed, was an understatement. But it was the only miraculous that he could get his hands on. And, desperate times, called for desperate measures.

It was only temporary, he told himself, only until he could get his hands on the ladybug and black cat miraculouses and bring back Marinette. Then he would give it back. He wasn't going to keep it any longer than he had to. He couldn’t imagine wanting to keep it any longer than he had to.

He put on the brooch(it was so easy to do, why had he been delaying for so long?) and uttered the transformation phrase that Nooroo had told him. It was one of the few things that the kwami had seen fit to share after discovering that he was being misused once again (Nooroo's words, not his). Butterflies flew around him as the transformation took place. It was done in an instant. So much more efficient than Chat Noir’s had been.

Adrien looked out over the city through new eyes, trying to remember what little he knew about the butterfly miraculous and it's powers. Nooroo had clammed up surprisingly quickly, so Adrien had been left with only what little prior knowledge he had gained from being Chat Noir. He knew that the butterfly wielder could send out the akumas to create champions (or villains as the case may be), and he knew that the wielder could communicate telepathically with his champions. But he had no idea how to find a champion in the first place.

So, he did the only thing he could think to do. He trusted his instincts, sending out his mind to see through the eyes of hundreds of butterflies that roamed throughout the city. It felt as natural to him as breathing.

So this was how Papillion had seen Paris. He could see everything. Adrien wondered how their identities had never been discovered, if this was the view that his nemesis had seen everyday. People were beacons of emotion: joy, hate, anger, excitement, contentment, calm, nervousness, fear, all of them were calling out to him. He knew instinctively that only some would accept what he had to offer.

There. A man. He was different than the rest somehow. Practically glowing with ambition, doubt, anger and greed. Adrien could harness this. He could make this man into just the tool he needed to gain the miraculouses.

He sent out an akuma, watching through it's eyes as it soared above Paris and sank into something in the man's bag.

A link was established. All of sudden Adrien could feel this man. It was as if he had somehow stepped through a door and into this man's mind. He could the his hopes, dreams, ambitions, fears, and darkest secrets. He could see just the strings he needed to pull in order to get what he wanted.

It made him feel... guilty, for what he was about to do. But Marinette was worth it. She was worth anything and everything.

"Dowsing Rob. I can give you the power to find and take whatever you want." As soon as Adrien said this he knew that he could do it. It was an overwhelming power that he had access to."In exchange, I want you to... acquire something for me." He let the man see a memory: a ring and a pair of earring became crystal clear in both of their minds. "Do we have a deal?"

There was never any doubt as to what the answer would be.

"Yes, we do," Dousing Rob said as he transformed. Adrien watched as he cackled evilly and ran off, wreaking chaos on the city as he went.

It hurt a little, knowing he was responsible for destroying the very city that he had once fought so hard to protect. But it was only for a little while. Only until he got what he wanted. Then he'd stop. Then he'd make it better. He wasn't even doing that much damage compared to some of Papillon's champions. He was justified in what he was doing.

The end justified the means. It had to.

He had to make his family whole again.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Emma walked into the kitchen to discover that someone had left a pot boiling over on the stove. She quickly moved the pot off the heat, looked around at the mess in the kitchen and broke out in hysterical laughter. It was either that or cry. And at that moment, the last thing Emma wanted to do was cry.

She was holding a screaming baby (little Marie had colic) and was overwhelmed by housework. The kitchen she was standing in was quickly becoming another item on her to-do list, which was long enough as it was. She hadn’t taken a shower or gotten a decent night’s sleep in who knows how long. Emma was just trying to keep everything together. And failing, or, at least that’s what it felt like half the time.

The radio constantly yelling at her about some crazy person named Dowsing Rob who was running around doing who knows what and just causing general chaos was doing nothing really hoped that he wasn’t getting into too much trouble.

Long story short, crying was going to add nothing to the situation. If anything, it would make the whole thing worse worse.

Despite that, when Louis walked in a little while later, holding a jar of spaghetti sauce, Emma was leaning against the wall, holding little Marie (who was still crying), and half crying, half laughing herself. She couldn’t focus on the story that he was telling her. Something about a supervillain?

Eventually, her sanity returned. That didn’t mean that things made any more sense. Nothing was making any sense right now.

The two of them listened to the radio over Marie’s screams as they salvaged what they could of Louis’ spaghetti. Emma didn’t know what exactly to make of these “akumas” that were attacking Paris all of a sudden. They had learned about something similar in school, but a half remembered social studies unit was nothing compared to the craziness that was happening here and now. Maybe, she should’ve payed more attention to that unit, it didn’t seem very import at the time.

Fortunately for her sanity, Emma knew someone who did know what was going on.

Aunt Alya was considered to be one of the top experts on the akuma attacks that had happened decades ago, which was pretty impressive considering she had barely been a teenager at the time. (Aunt Alya and Uncle Nino weren’t really their aunt and uncle by blood, but the two of them had been close friends with her parents, so they were practically family in all the ways that really counted.) She was also willing to come over for dinner on a moment's notice, and bring pizza with her (which was a relief, since Louis’ food was more or less inedible).

With her whole family around the table (except Papa, but he was gone half the time anyways), Emma felt herself relaxing, in spite of the craziness going on in Paris right outside her door.

“I was around your age when the first akumas showed up,” Aunt Alya said enthusiastically. “The attacks only lasted for a few years, but they sure were an interesting few years.”

“They were interesting, as in that one ancient curse.” Uncle Nino chuckled and shook his head. “You should’ve seen her back then. She chased any akuma that showed up. Nearly got herself killed more than a few times.”

“Hey! Ladybug and Chat Noir saved me all of those times.” Aunt Alya crossed her arms and glared at Uncle Nino, the effect was ruined by the grin on her face.

“She chased those two around too.” Uncle Nino stage whispered to the rest of the table. “Always dragged me around with her. Right?” He elbowed her, smiling.

“You know you love me.” Aunt Alya gave him a playful kiss, ignoring Hugo blushing on the other end of the table. “We were such lovebirds back then, nearly as bad as Adrien and Marinette.” She gave a little smile.

“Maman and Papa were in love all the way back then?” Louis asked, eyes wide. He was such a romantic.

“Yeah, your Maman had the biggest crush on your Papa, she was obsessed with him. Our whole class had a pool going on, betting on when they’d get together,” Aunt Alya reminisced. “They’d always disappear during the akuma attacks. We all thought that they were taking advantage of the chaos to get some privacy.”

Uncle Nino nodded. “They always missed the coolest parts, like all the times that Ladybug and Chat Noir saved Alya,” he finished pointedly.

“Nino!” Aunt Alya glared at him before changing the subject. “Speaking of Ladybug and Chat Noir, I wonder if he’ll show up again. Maybe I’ll have to start up the Ladyblog again.”

“There’ll probably be a new pair of heros for you to chase, Alya. It’s been over twenty years, he’s probably retired or something.”

“Chat Noir might show,” she insisted. “He’s never been one to stray from a fight. He’s not bad, more than a little cocky in person, but he still gets the job done. He doesn’t hold a candle to Ladybug though, she’s the best.”

“You’ve met them?” Hugo asked, eyes wide.

“Sure have,” Aunt Alya bragged. “ I’ve interviewed them both too.”

“What’s Ladybug like?” Hugo asked, leaning forward. “She’s my favorite.”

Aunt Alya and Uncle Nino exchanged a glance so quick that Emma almost thought that she imagined it.

“Ladybug’s the best,” Aunt Alya said after hesitating for barely a heartbeat.

“Yeah, she’s really brave and smart,” Uncle Nino added.

“She told me some amazing stories during our interview.”

“She saved Jagged Stone once.”

“And she jumped into the mouth of a T-rex another time.” Aunt Alya gestured emphatically with her hands.

“She’s every bit as great as the stories.

“She’s better than the stories,” Uncle Nino corrected.

“Definitely.” Aunt Alya nodded in agreement.

After that, the conversation moved on to other subjects. Aunt Alya and Uncle Nino left after supper, Aunt Alya saying something about keeping an eye out for new developments. Uncle Nino just shook his head and winked at them over his shoulder, telling them to keep safe. Emma knew that he really didn’t mind Aunt Alya dragging him around, even though he made a big deal about.

Just knowing that this had happened before was comforting. Knowing that Aunt Alya and Uncle Nino were confident that everything would work out was even more so. Emma hoped that if Ladybug and Chat Noir were out there, they’d show up soon.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Louis wasn’t sure who had left the earrings on his bed. They were plain black and in a box that looked vaguely chinese in design. Maybe it was Maman’s, but if it was, it still didn’t explain how it had gotten there. Had Emma or Aunt Alya left it for him? Who cares, Louis thought they look cool enough. With that he tried them on.

He felt a surge of power coming from somewhere. That was definitely weird. Then there was this strange popping noise and suddenly a little red and black creature (Mouse? Hamster? Flying rodent?) appeared before him.

“Hi!” it said. “My name is Tikki. You have been chosen to wield the ladybug miraculous!”

Weird. Very, very weird. Louis did what anyone would do in this situation, he swatted at the thing and screamed. At least, he screamed until he remembered that Marie was a light sleeper and Emma would kill him if she woke up.

He stopped screaming. The thing apparently took this as a sign that he had accepted its presence and it immediately started talking about luck and kwamis or something like that made no sense, instead of saying anything that he would expect it to, like “Take me to your leader”(Louis watched a lot of science fiction movies).

Whatever it was, Louis wanted it out of his room. he slammed a basket over it and threw it out the window.  There, it was finally gone.

Unfortunately, the thing just flew back in through the windows. How did it fly through the windows? This day just kept getting weirder and weirder. When had things stopped making sense? Louis decided that he needed a second opinion. He quickly slammed a jar over the thing (for some reason it stayed put this time) and went off to find Emma. She would know what to do. She always did.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Emma almost didn’t notice the ring. She was exhausted and worried, so it wasn’t until she sat down and felt a lump where there wasn’t before, that she noticed it. After she got up to see just what it was that she had sat on, she examined the box. It was red and black, and vaguely chinese in design. Had Uncle Nino or Aunt Alya left it there? Or was it Louis’ idea of a prank? If it was, it wasn’t very funny.

After staring at it for a while, she opened it. Inside was a plain silver ring, simple and elegant.

She almost didn’t put it on.

She almost closed up the box and ignored in favor of getting at least a little sleep before little Marie woke up again. But the idea of wearing it was vaguely appealing, almost as if the ring was calling to her.

That was stupid. Rings were inanimate objects, she must be going delirious from exhaustion.

But she put it on anyway.

And nearly flung it off again when a black creature came flying out, screaming “Foooooooood!”

“Shhh!” Emma hushed automatically. “Don’t wake the baby,” she said in an urgent whisper. As soon as the words left her mouth she realised that it sounded really kind of crazy. Some weird crazy demon thing shows up in her room and her first reaction was to tell it to shut up?

Regardless of whether she was sane or not, the creature ignored her, biting at random things in her room. Not that there was anything that he could fit down his gullet in the first place since she had put up all the choking hazards after little Marie was born.

“I must be hallucinating,” Emma thought out loud. She couldn’t think of any other possible explanation for what was happening.

“You’re not,” the thing said from wherever it was, she had lost track of it. “The name’s Plagg, kwami of destruction, I give you the power of bad luck and destruction. You can harness those powers by saying  ‘claws out’. Capieche? Now, do you have anything to eat around here?”

“Claws out?” Nothing happened. She was most  definitely hallucinating. It must of been the mushrooms on the pizza. Maybe they had put hallucinogenic mushrooms on the pizza by accident. That could happen, right?

“Say it like you mean it, kid. And there’s no way I’m transforming on an empty stomach. Got any camembert?”

“No, who carries around camembert?” This was making less and less sense the more time passed. Emma stared at the wall across from her. At least that made sense.

“My last wielder did. Hopefully you will too, I’m starving over here.”

Louis chose that moment to burst into her room clutching a jar in his hands.

“Emma, help me. There’s this weird talking bug-bird thing in my room, what do I do with it?” Louis asked her in a frantic rush.  Emma just blinked a few times as he revealed a red and black creature that looked eerily similar to the black creature that was pestering her. Maybe they were both hallucinating. The idea was slightly comforting.

“Do you think those mushrooms on the were pizza hallucinogenic by any chance?” Emma hoped that his answer would be yes. It would make so much more sense than whatever was going on right now.

“No?” Louis tilted his head. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Nothing,” Emma hurriedly answered. So all of this was really happening. What a shame.

“Hey, Tikki. Any luck with your chosen. I’m getting nowhere with mine,” the black creature called out.

“Plagg! You’re scaring yours!” the red creature scolded.

“You don’t look like you’re doing much better.”

The two started to bicker. Loudly.

“Quiet! Marie’s sleeping!” Emma urgently whispered yet again.  “Let’s go downstairs to the kitchen to talk this out.” The last thing she wanted was for Marie to start screaming again.

“Finally, maybe you’ll actually have something to eat down there,” the black creature complained.

“Plagg, we have more important things to worry about than food!”

The two creatures started to argue again. Why couldn’t she just be a normal evening for once?

“Downstairs. Now,” Emma said in what Louis called her “Maman voice”. She was done with all of this.

They were quiet all the way down.

“So, what do you guys eat” Louis asked, breaking the silence when they finally arrived in the kitchen.

“Cookies, though any pastry will do.”

“Cheese. Primarily camembert.”

“We don’t have any camembert. We have a little reblochon,” Emma said.

“Fine, that will do for now. But you can’t expect me to perform well without camembert.”

“Plagg,” the red creature said in a warning tone.

“Fine, fine. I’m just saying, I’ve got standards.”

“Can someone just please explain what’s going on?” Emma asked, rubbing her forehead  as Louis lay plates of food in front of the creatures.

“My name is Tikki,” The red creature said in between bites of cookie. “And this is Plagg.” She gestured to the black creature.

“Hey, I mentioned that!” Plagg said.

Tikki glared at him. “Plagg and I are kwamis, beings of great power. We can grant that power to our chosen wielder,” Tikki said between bites. “Currently the butterfly miraculous is being misused by someone who is causing these akumas to appear. You two were chosen to fight the akumas and take back the butterfly miraculous.”

“So we get to be the superheroes who fight the supervillain?” Louis asked. “Just like in the comic books?”

“Mmhmm,” Tikki nodded.

“Cool!”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you,” Plagg muttered from his plate of cheese.

“Like Ladybug and Chat Noir?” Louis asked eagerly.

Tikki nodded. “Just like them. You two will be the new Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

This piqued Emma’s interest. “Tell me more.”

“Of course.” Tikki smiled.

The two teenagers sat spellbound as the kwamis explained everything.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Adrien urged on his champion. The man still hadn’t found the miraculouses and it was nearly midnight now. He had given the man the power he needed to succeed, why was he failing?

He reached out to the man’s mind to give it a shove in the right direction, only to discover that something had changed. His minion wasn’t focusing on finding the miraculouses, he was fighting something. Or someone. Possibly multiple someones. Who could it be? Who would be foolish enough to pick a fight with an akuma? Adrien needed to know more. He looked through his champion’s eyes.

When he first saw the ladybug, he thought it was Marinette back from the dead somehow. The hero moved with the same grace at the root of their movements, even if they lacked the skill that Marinette had developed over years of practice. He took a closer look

No. Upon further inspection, it clearly wasn’t his  ladybug. This Ladybug was male. He was a child, no more than a boy. Who was this person who thought that he could take the place of Marinette? No one would be able to fill the shadow that she had cast as Ladybug.

This new hero was to flamboyant, to showy. His costume was flashier than Marinette’s simple one. It looked more like the costume of a rogue from a period romance drama that of a of a hero.He wasn’t even a tenth of the Ladybug that Marinette had been. He had a gun for heaven’s sakes. What sort of ladybug wielded a gun? How was he supposed to fight with that?

There was another Chat Noir as well, but she was inconsequential. She didn’t make his blood boil with her very existence like this new Ladybug did.

The two of them were children, they didn’t stand a chance, Adrien thought, pushing back the little part telling him that he and Marinette had only been children when they had first started. But that was different. Sure, they had been bumbling teenagers at first, struggling to find their footing. But nobody had known what was going on. Not even Papillion. Everyone had been figuring stuff out, bit  by bit.

This time, Adrien had the advantage. He knew exactly what he needed to do.

He had to get their miraculouses. It was the only way. But taking jewels from heroes would be a whole lot harder than taking them from boxes in the possession of an old who was on the verge of dieing anyway. And if they were the heroes, that meant that he was a villain, at least in the eyes of the public. He probably should've thought of that sooner, but there were more important things on his mind then.

Adrien was not a villain by nature. But he would do anything to bring her back, and if that meant filling a role that was so contrary to his nature, so be it. It was only for a little while anyway. Only until he got the miraculouses.

Only until he could make things right.

Only until everything went back to normal.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Alya was psyched. There was a new Ladybug and Chat Noir and she was in the middle of it, just like she always was. This wasn’t like last time. Last time she had been young, inexperienced and impulsive. Now, she was one of the experts on Ladybug and Chat Noir and a professional reporter to boot. There was no way she was letting this opportunity get away.

Alya had been the first to see the two of them fighting over Paris. She had been the first on the scene to record and share with the world just what it was that was going on. Just like last time. When she really thought about it, not much had changed, really.

It was clear that these new heroes were still young and learning. They didn’t have the ease or skill that the last two had had. That would come with time. This Ladybug remembered to purify the akuma. He had learned from his predecessor's mistakes. Marinette would be proud if she could see her legacy being carried on.

They introduced themselves as the new Ladybug and Chat Noir before disappearing into the night, leaving as just as many questions as they had answered.

It was neat seeing how the new generation of heroes looked so different from the first. Ladybug had a dramatic cape and a mask that looked like a pirate's bandana. He almost looked like a rakish hero, the effect was only ruined by the red with black spots that seemed to come with the territory. Chat Noir on the other hand, had a much simpler outfit. It was reminiscent of Adrien’s costume, only this one had a very short poncho-ish cape, and this hero wielded a pair of daggers instead of a staff.

This was definitely the most exciting thing that had happened in a long time. Alya wanted to learn everything she could about what was going on.

She’d have to ask Adrien if he knew anything about these new heroes. He and Marinette claimed that they had given up their powers after defeating Papillion and taking his miraculous, but he couldn’t be completely ignorant could he?

Alya had so many questions that wanted answering. Was Papillion back? She thought had thought that the villain had disappeared for good after Ladybug and Chat Noir had defeated him the first time. If not, who was this new villain? What were they after? What were these new heroes like? There was so much to learn and so little time.

It Alya’s job to get answers, and there was no way anything was going to change now. Not when things needed knowing the most.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Louis loved the feeling of confidence and freedom that came with transforming into Ladybug. He could be just like those dashing rogues in books that were always rescuing swooning maidens and swinging about on conveniently placed vines or ropes.

He loved running across the rooftops with inhuman speed and skill. (He wished he could fly, but Tikki said that power would come with time.) He loved the feeling of pride that came with saving his home every day. He loved the euphoric feeling he got whenever he used Miraculous Ladybug.

He loved nearly everything about being Ladybug. The only thing he didn’t love, was that he was supposed to lead.

Louis couldn’t lead. He’s always been that one guy who slacked off in group projects and let the others do all the work. Emma had always the leader. She was good at it. But now, Emma was looking to him for plans since he was the one with the magical power that gave him whatever he needed to win.

Tikki told him that as a Ladybug he would be creative, charismatic, confident, lucky, and a natural leader. Sure, he was definitely creative and he had a lot of friends (did that make him charismatic?). People told him that he was confident (whenever he actually did something, which was rare). But a natural leader? That was hard to swallow.

Yet, surprisingly, he found that this whole hero thing was coming easily to him. Emma took the lead around the house, since Papa was showing up less and less, but on the battlefield, Louis took the lead. Things seemed simple there. It was like the videogames that Hugo played, or the adventure novels he read, only in real life. Strategies and plans just popped into his head. And they worked. (No one was more surprised than him the first time that happened.)

So, to explore this new leader aspect of himself, Louis decided that he should go and ask Papa about the first time that the akumas attacked Paris. Papa had been right in the thick of it after all, nearly all of his classmates had gotten akumatised at one point or another. When Louis first heard that, he had thought that it was one crazy coincidence. Surely he would know something that would make his job at least a little easier. He’d ask Tikki, but the kwami seemed to be sworn to secrecy on the matters of past wielders, even (or especially) the ones from only a generation ago.

It was hard to get a chance to talk to Papa. Nowadays, it felt like he only showed up at home to eat and sleep and sometimes he didn’t even do that. Louis wasn’t sure if that was because Papa felt that his work was just a lot more important, or because he was hiding from responsibilities. Eventually though, he found his chance to make his move.

“Papa,” Louis asked. “What was it like the first time Papillion attacked Paris?”

“The first time?” Papa made a strange face.

“Yeah, when you and Maman were younger. What were the akumas like?” Louis knew all about Ladybug and Chat Noir, everyone knew about them. They always learned about the heroes in school, never the villains, mainly because the victims were normal, everyday people who didn’t deserve to be remembered only for the one bad day that they had. That’s what they were taught at least.

“That was the only time Papillion attacked.”

“Everyone’s saying that he’s come back.” Who else could it be?

“We don’t know that for sure.” Papa’s tone was shorter than it usually was.

Louis shrugged. “We don’t know much of anything. So, could you tell me what the akumas were like.” He hoped that Papa would stop changing the subject.

“They were … all over the place.” Papa stared off into the distance, seeing something that Louis would probably never see for himself. “Some were crazy, others dangerous, and quite a few made no sense whatsoever.”

“Not much has changed, huh?” That sounded like what was going on right now. Maybe having crazy opponents just came with the territory.

Papa nodded. “Be careful. I don’t want any of you getting hurt.”

“Ladybug always heals everything.” That was his job after all.

“He might not always be there.” Papa stared off into space for a bit before raising his newspaper back up. Sensing that the conversation was over, Louis wandered off.

He hadn’t learned much, but at least he had learned something. Some of the things that Papa had said didn’t make any sense.

The only reason he wouldn’t show up was if he lost his earrings to Papillion. Or if he was sick or something. But most people didn’t talk about that happening. Everyone just assumed that they would win. Papa on the other hand had acted like it was only a matter of time before he lost a fight. But the old Ladybug had never lost a fight. Why would he?

It just didn’t make sense. But not a lot of things made sense anymore. Louis was discovering that unfortunately, that was just how life worked.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

They were calling him Papillion returned. They were saying that Ladybug and Chat Noir hadn’t done their job right the first time. They were wrong. He and Marinette had done nothing wrong the first time. They had just been a little too late to discover just who their opponent was, that’s all.

It stung to be called the very villain that he worked so hard to stop. It hurt to be compared to a man who he hated. But that was just all the more reason to get this job done quickly. He couldn’t let the ignorant words of people who didn’t know any better distract him from his goal. They didn’t know the whole story.

Marinette. Marinette was worth everything that he was doing. All he needed were the ring and earrings. He would just be reclaiming what had once been theirs. Once he got it, he could make his family whole again. He needed her. He needed things to return to normal soon.

Adrien sent his mind through his butterflies in Paris, watching, waiting, searching for an opportunity. There. He found one.

“Hello Matchrimony, I have a proposal for you.”

Maybe this woman would be the one to succeed.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Emma collapsed on her bed, completely worn out. Learning how to balance school, home, and superheroing was hard and exhausting. Papillion was sending out akumas every day. Today had been no exception. At least Aunt Alya and Uncle Nino could look after Marie while she was at school. That was one less thing to worry about.

Papa was absent yet again. She worried about him during the akuma attacks sometimes, if she had time to worry about that sort of thing, which wasn’t very often in the heat of battle. She had no idea where he worked (now that she thought about it, that was unusual, but the topic had just never come up), so there was no way to figure out how much the chaos was affecting him. For all Emma knew, he could work in an underground bunker, and that was the reason why he didn’t seem to notice that the akuma attacks were becoming more and more frequent. And more and more dangerous.

Emma missed her old Papa. The one who was always hanging about the house, ready with a pun or joke, and always willing to help with homework. But that Papa seemed to be banished to the same golden memories that Maman lived in. Now, Emma was the one taking Maman and Papa’s place. She was the one helping with homework and teasing and comforting Hugo when she got the chance. Which wasn’t very often with how busy she was. She wasn’t sure if she could fill such big shoes.

All she wanted to do was sleep. But noise permeated every inch of the house leaving no place for Emma to explore her newfound love of naps. Plagg yelled at her, asking for cheese, the radio yelled with the constant panicked chatter which had ingrained itself in Paris, Marie just plain yelled with lungs that seemed too big for her body.

Emma cursed Papillion, whoever he was, for making such a mess of her life.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Hugo hadn’t meant to get caught in the latest akuma attack. He had just wanted to go over to Clement’s house and play Ultimate Mecha Strike VI with him. Now, instead of joking with his friend while playing video games, he was running away from the onslaught of Paris’ latest monster.

It wasn’t fun.

He looked back. Oh shit. The monster was coming his way.  Oh shit.

Where were Ladybug and Chat Noire when you needed them? Panzerman was looking right at him and he was pointing that big gun in his direction.

Oh shit, oh shit.

He was going to die, and even though Ladybug brought back anyone who died, he didn’t want to experience that any time soon.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shitohshitohshit, oh shit?

Hugo’s panicked thoughts abruptly stopped as a a butterfly mask appeared over the akuma’s face and Panzerman turned away. What was that all about? Nothing like that had ever happened before. By all accounts, he should be nothing more than a smear on the pavement right now. So just what had happened? Not that he was upset, just confused. He was as glad to be alive as the next parisian, at least the ones who were still alive that was.

He was still mulling over what had happened a few minutes later when Ladybug and Chat Noir showed up (finally), and got him to safety.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

His son, his son, had almost gotten hurt. What was Hugo doing out there? Why hadn’t the boy been more careful? If Adrien hadn’t been able to stop the akuma in the nick of time, his son could’ve been killed.

He needed them to be safe. He couldn’t have his children dieing because of him. Even if Ladybug could bring back the dead now, there would come a day when he wouldn’t be able to.

Adrien needed to keep a closer eye on his children, even if that meant it would be longer until he got what he wanted. He had to make sure that they wouldn’t get hurt.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

When Papa started to be more worried after Hugo’s close call, Emma was hopeful that he would start to show more interest in other aspects of their life, like keeping house, for example. She was tired of taking care of everything by herself.

Unfortunately, it didn’t actually work out that way. It just became harder to sneak out and do her job as Chat Noir.

Papa wanted to know where they were at all times. He wanted them to communicate their locations to him even when he was at work, and he instituted a way stricter curfew. Emma wanted to tell herself that he was just being paranoid, but she knew that he had a point with akuma attacks  happening so often. She didn’t know whether to feel happy that he was actually paying attention and caring about what was happening, or to feel because she couldn’t save Paris if she couldn’t get out of the house. It was all just strangely frustrating.

Plagg was always encouraging her to relax more and take less upon herself, which was all fine and dandy when she was Chat Noir, but when she was Emma, too much was resting on her shoulders. She didn’t have time to take time off when there was so much resting on her shoulders. Little bits of Chat Noir did make their way into her life regardless.

She found that it was more natural to take a supporting role in class projects instead of taking control like she usually did. She was making more jokes (Plagg was rubbing off on her with those horrible puns) and laughing more. She also started taking a lot more naps. Naps were a wonderful treasure in her hectic world. How had she not noticed them before now?

It wasn’t that she had stopped being Emma, she had just changed and become someone new and a little different. And, maybe, she liked this new Chat-Emma just a little better than what she had been before.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Louis was all but banging his head against his desk when trying to figure out his physics homework when he heard a loud crash from Emma’s room next door. Glad for a distraction of any sort, he hurried in, finding Chat Noir standing over the broken remains of her science project. The ring on her finger gave a warning beep.

“You cataclysmed your project?” Louis asked, even though he knew the answer.

“Yeah,” Emma said softly. “It wasn’t cooperating.”

“That doesn’t mean that you should destroy it, now you’ll have to start all over again.” This entire experience felt surreal, Louis wasn’t supposed to be the voice of reason. That was usually Emma’s job, yet here they were, the tables turned.

Emma gave a wry laugh. “It sure felt good, though.”

Louis could understand that. He could name quite a few times when he had wanted to do something like that.

“Shouldn’t you, you know,” he shrugged and gestured to her costume.

Emma noded. “I should.” She looked down at her costume as if seeing it for the first time. “Claws in.” They both ignored Plagg as he popped out and started grumping about in the background.

“So what were you supposed do for this anyway?” Louis moved over to her desk and started looking through the papers on it. They had different teachers for science.

“We’re building trebuchets.”

“I don’t know much, but I can try to help. And who knows,” Louis winked, “Maybe all you need is a little luck.”

Emma gave a laugh, a real one this time. “Maybe.”

“This was always the sort of thing that Papa loved to help with,” Louis said as he swept the barely recognisable collection of broken parts into the trash can.

“Yeah, I’d ask him for help, but he’s never around anymore.” Emma said wistfully.

“Uh huh.” Sometimes it felt like they had lost both parents, and not just Mama. But Louis didn’t like to dwell on those sort of thoughts. He would much rather live life in the present, not the past. “So, what do you need help with?” he asked cheerfully, trying to change the subject.

Louis spent that evening helping Emma fix her project. It was strange how being Chat Noir and Ladybug was changing them. Emma never would’ve done anything like this without Plagg’s influence (Louis was pretty sure that destroying the trebuchet had been his idea). And if she had, Louis probably wouldn’t have stepped in to help her. Tikki hadn’t even needed to be the little voice of reason in his head this time.

Aunt Alya and Uncle Nino had just told him the other day that he was finally stepping up and acting responsibly. His friends and teachers were making similar observations more and more often. (They were more than a little surprised at his newfound tendency to take the lead.) Even Hugo looked up from whatever video game he was playing to to mention that Lois wasn’t nearly as much fun as he used to be. (Louis wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not.) He could only guess that similar things were happening to Emma.

Papa didn’t act like he noticed anything was different. But they rarely saw Papa anymore, let alone spoke to him. Louis honestly wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Papa lived at wherever it was that he worked.

Louis wondered if Papa even noticed that his children were changing at all.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Adrien hoped that he could overwhelm Ladybug and Chat Noir, but they fought and defeated every akuma he sent at them with ease. They were young, no older than he or Marinette had been (what was with the guardian and choosing children to be heroes?) but they learned so quickly, always gaining the upper hand, no matter what cards he held. Those children, his nemeses, were preventing him from gaining the power he needed.

They thwarted every move he made. They destroyed any attempt he made to intimidate Paris or to turn the city against them. They saved the day again and again and again, never failing to solidify their position as heroes in the eyes of the public.

They couldn’t keep winning forever. He had to succeed in his mission. He had to. He refused to give up, to admit defeat, to let these children come between him and his goal. Their miraculouses would be his. They had to be.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Emma cursed her bad luck. Of all the days for there to be an attack, Papillion had to choose their birthday. Couldn’t the man take a break for once? Admittedly, there were akuma attacks every day, sometimes more than once, but a girl could still hope.  It wasn’t that they had anything special going on in the first place, but it was the idea of the whole thing that she found insulting. Louis didn’t seem to mind to much, but nothing really bother Louis. Sometimes Emma wished that she could have his level of nonchalance.

They defeated the akuma quickly, but the annoyance lingered throughout the day.

Aunt Alya and Uncle Nino threw them a little birthday dinner party. It was just family, but Papa didn’t even show up. They had cake and presents, and stayed up late watching a cheesy movie, but without Papa there, it felt like they were just going through the motions.

Papa never showed up anymore. He had forgotten about her birthday. He had never forgotten something like this before.  If grief was what did this to him, Emma hated grief. She hated the thing that had taken two parents from her when death had only taken one. She hated it.

That night, sitting on the rooftops with Louis, Emma looked up at the stars and promised that she would never let grief turn her into something she wasn’t.  

Grief might’ve conquered Papa, but it would never conquer her. She was a superhero afterall.

AN: So… Angst, anyone? I’m currently undecided on whether or not Gabriel Agreste is Hawkmoth/Papillion, so in this AU, we have no idea who Papillion/Hawkmoth is. Anyway, in this fic I wanted to explore the idea that maybe Adrien isn’t the complete antithesis of his Father and maybe he just needed a push in the right direction to become like him. Now, I’m not saying that I think that Adrien is going to turn into the two (maybe one) men that he hates the most when Marinette dies. I’m just exploring possibilities.

I also wanted to explore the ideas of second-generation Ladybug and Chat Noir, namely Emma and Louis. Sorry, Hugo and Marie didn’t really play a big role in this story, so we don’t get to know them as well. Also, I happen to be a sucker for DjWifi if you couldn’t tell.

I hope you enjoyed the read. I have some sketches of Emma and Louis and their superhero forms which I’m going to post eventually, hopefully sooner rather than later.

[dreamhimcloser]

PURSUANT

Word count: 13,580. Summery: People once believed that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead. But sometimes something so bad happens that a terrible sadness is carried with it and the soul can’t rest. Then sometimes, just sometimes, the crow can bring that soul back to put the wrong things right. Genre: Hunter!Jungkook + Crow shifter!Reader. Slight angst, but mostly adventure.

It took me way longer then I thought it would. Tell me what you thought about it ♥

The world always shifted, changing like a living being with a heartbeat every time something new was discovered, and brought into the light. You learned about the larger changes from educators, about dinosaurs and meteors, human in caves who discovered fire and invented big things, making a worldwide impact.

Every time it happened, the world had to adjust, find new ways to cope with the change, watching how it affects the generation they brought into the world. Some discoveries were good for the evolution of the human kind, some were bad, and all lead to the end of the world as they knew it to create a new one instead.

The discovery of shapeshifters, existing among human like they’re one in the same, had the same kind of impact.

The initial response was violent and surprised no one, mostly in the form of riots. Scared men and women screaming intimidating words to make their rulers maybe, find a solution to this "problem". Your caretaker told you the stories, how they all ran into hiding, fleeting from angry actions of ignorant people. It took time – years – to calm it down. You were born near the end of the fight, after the ruler showed will to study the shape shifters, invest in their brought up to the communities without having to hide what they are, without being afraid for their lives.

Your mother held you in her arms, traits of what you are visibly vibrating as you were just born, as she moved to the cities where the public was less scared and more intrigued. She submitted herself to the authority, as did many shifters of many kinds, to share what they know of their kind in exchange for their freedom.

It was the wrong choice.

Right before your mother got executed to prevent her from using her powers to her own will – before your kind became hunted and not by ignorance, but by knowledge – she managed to give you away to a fellow shifter who wasn't revealed yet for what they were.

The shifter grew you since. She taught you how to protect yourself, growing you as one of her children even though you weren't a wolf shifter like they were. Your bleached white skin and jet black hair always stood out, drawing attention wherever you went. The shifter made you travel a lot, never staying in one place for too long purely out of fear, that someone will find out and take all of her children from her.

 You heard the stories, taking them in as a part of who you were. Even as a child you already knew the bitter truth you’re forced to live your life with for however long you shall live – like atom bombs and gunfire weapons, some discoveries are better off staying in the darkness of ignorance.

 As were you.

Growing up as a shifter, hidden from the world but still a part of it, came with a price. You still remembered the day when the order came out, a list created by investigators that specified what each type of shifter can do that's beyond human understanding.

 Some could predict the future, some could breathe underwater. The list went on and on, and you remember you read through it looking for your kind, knowing it was your own mother who gave this information away.

 Crow – a mysterious connection to the dead. Is able to pass souls on and bring from beyond. Limit of power not known.

 It explained so many parts of your life. You were always drawn to graves, and heard voices whispering in the dark of the night, never to fear but to just be aware of their presence.

 You took a secret experiment then, fishing out the powers that came from your animal side. It took you a while to understand, how to hold a soul without tainting it, how to pass it on and see what's on the other side. As your contact with the other end grew, you felt more reassured, the hunted feeling in your heart subsiding as you found a life that you could live for many years to come.

 Then rose the rumors of a spreading phenomenon – men rise to hunt the kind of shifters they need for certain jobs. Shark shifters were used to bring artifacts from the bottom of the ocean, different bird shifters to pass messages between people without the need of a written letter that could fall into the wrong hands.

 You were sure the shifters didn't have a choice to act as they were told, until you heard a report about a mocking bird shifter who was beaten to death by the man who hunter her, just because she told his message to the wrong person. She was tricked and suffered a horrible death for her mistake.

 The hunters stopped pretending they were pleasant when no punishes followed the report. They hunted cruelly, bringing guns and bows to wound and mime the shifters they wanted to capture without a single thought about the fact they're hunting humans.

 Obviously, they weren't the only ones who didn’t think of shifters as humans. The authorities allowed it, not a single response was heard as shifters got stricken down and hurt for the benefit of their hunters.

 Your caretaker as worried as she should have been about the change of behavior. Wolves were mostly good for their sense of smell, and before humanity knew about the shifters' existence, they were looked down upon for how simple their powers were. Now they were the least threatened by hunters.

 You were a very different story though.

 You knew sooner or later crows would be hunted down too, given how abnormal your powers were. Breaking apart from the family that took you in was probably the hardest thing you ever had to do – many tears and sorrows surfaced that day. Your caretaker understood your intention; she knew you were just trying to make sure they stay safe.

 You still remembered how she kissed your cheeks, then your forehead and your nose. "I will always cherish you. Be safe, and keep tracking us so we'll know you're alive."

 Those words warmed your heart every single day, even though years passed since.

 Traveling was harder then you thought it was, and you often found yourself imagining how it must have been for your mother, traveling with a newborn baby when the threat was pressing against her throat. You couldn’t blame her anymore for trying to find reason in the hearts of humans, even if that’s what got her killed.

 You found nice people along the way, some gave you food and some even a roof over your head for a night or two, all of which you repaid with whatever you could. Kindness was not easy to come across nowadays.

 Some nights you shifted to your crow form, paying close attention that no one is watching to later accuse you for it, and slept on trees. Feeding as a crow was easier too; you could dive from the sky and steal someone else’s food without much of a problem or a chase.

 These were the life you were sentenced to live.

 A man took you in one night, after you refused to let him feed you in the market as a beggar. He insisted on at least allowing you to sleep on a bed for a night before you took off. You helped him prepare a meal for the both of you, and watched the man tear up when you told him how old you were. He told you, his throat tight around unshed tears, that he just lost a daughter to an awful illness, and she was just your age. It was her bed you would be sleeping in for the night.

 Your conscience wouldn’t allow you to leave this kind man with nothing. As he fell asleep you waited, before sitting up from where you laid on a dead girl’s bed, and summoned her. It was the easiest summoning you ever had to do. The girl left so young and with so many regrets, she wasn’t even near the border to the next world.

 You watched as they talked between them, the man half asleep still and weeping like a baby as he looked at his daughter’s face once again – and for the last time. They shared words of pure love, bringing a smile to your own face with how pure their intentions were. The girl looked back at you when she felt the pull from the other side, nodding at you to signal she’s ready. You shifted in her room before you took her away, your chest filled with fear, knowing you’ll come back to a man who knows what you are.

 The man smiled at you, thanked you, and tucked you in with a whisper promise that no one else besides the two of you will know of what happened here.

 Only the next night, when you took some money he gave you to eat at the town’s tavern, did you know he lied.

 Many hunters fed in the same space as you, and you made sure to keep your head and your presence low. You sat at the very end of the tavern, away from bows and exes that could turn on you in a second. You listened to filth spoken by greedy men as they talked about how many shifters they had in captive – and how these shifters got to die in their hands. The beer flowing through their veins made them loud and obnoxious, but you simply swallowed your food in a hurry to leave.

 The door opened to let in a warm breeze of early summer, momentarily distracting the men from cheering at yet another horrible story. A young man walked in, you guessed he was about your age from the glimpse you got of his face before his hat hid it away.

 The young man walked straight to the tavern’s owner, the loud laughter returning with each step he took as the drunk men in the background lost interest in the newcomer.

 The man leaned across the counter, exchanging quick words with the owner, who leaned close from the other side. Your instincts warned you from what’s to come, making you stuff the rest of your food in as quickly as you could.

 “Hey, hunters!” The owner crossed his arms on his chest as he looked to the drunken group of men. They wouldn’t stop and he had to scream again, louder to get past all the noise they were making. They stopped one by one to give the owner confused looks and when he finally had all eyes on him, he continued, “This boy looking for a crow shifter. Said passed here not long ago. Ya know something?”

 You stiffened, taking a deep breathe before you relaxed your shoulders with a roll. You can’t give away any sign of fear at this, or you’ll be in troubles.

 “Hell, if I knew a crow shifter was around, I woulda captured it myself!”

 “How about you?” You peaked at the owner in interest just to find his eyes already trained on you. You obviously weren't a hunter yourself, why would he even bother asking you?

 “Haven’t heard a thing,” You shook your head and stabbed one of the last pieces of meat off of your plate, steeling your face into a nonchalant stare. “I don’t even know how hunters receive their information, so I might not be much help at all.”

 “What do you do to get by?” The boy spoke up, and his voice made you instantly frown. It was deep and velvety, almost out of place since it was not as rough as most hunters spoke and acted. Your eyes met for the first time too, and you saw a certain uncertainty in them – again, abnormal for hunters. You saw a hint of determination in them, and that was the only part about him you received a threatening feeling from. His eyes were focused on you like a tight arrow, ready to fire.

 “I’m a writer,” You lifted the writing supplies you took as an excuse with the hand that wasn’t holding the fork.

 The boy crossed his arms across his chest, bringing your attention to the bulking muscles. If you hadn’t seen his face, you could have guessed he was a lot older then he actually was by his body. “Must travel around a lot.”

 “That I do.”

 “And you never listen to talk about shifters?” He challenged, leaning his hips back against the counter. “Aren’t you scared, a small girl traveling all alone?”

“Why would a shifter risk their exposure to pick on a harmless small girl, huh?” You scuffed at him, before dropping the fork and gathering your things. This could count as a reason for you to take your leave, hopefully without alarming anyone of your fear. Your heartbeat was beating in your ears, animal instincts keeping you aware of all the men in the room. Some of the drunk group looked away from you already, returning to meaningless conversation as they tried keeping their tones at bay. Some were still looking on, laughter rolling as they agreed with the young hunter’s words.

It will only be in your best interest to get out of here, as soon as you could.

“Good travelin’,” You heard the owner say as you passed by him. You nodded in confirmation, waving a hand above your head as you took moderate steps towards the exit. Your eyes were wired to their maximus ability in search of any nearing noises that could single danger is coming your way. The drunks were louder now, and the owner and young hunter both stayed silent until the door shut behind you.

You breathed a sigh of relief, taking in warm air. All you had to do was get away from this town. The hunter seemed young and he probably didn’t have that much experience under his belt – a combination you found favorable. There was still something about the look in his eyes, a determined mind shining through that send chills down your spike and a quicker step to your feet.

You could enter the woods, shift there and take a flight this instant to get away from him before he even realizes you’re what he’s looking for. That plan seemed enough, calming your nerves as any plan you made did. Knowing what your next step is going to be always set you at ease.

“Girl!”

Your foot felt heavier as it hit the dirt. You turned around and matched the voice to a face – the hunter stepped out after you. His hat was pushed off to hang under the back of his head by a string, revealing his face to the sunlight. His eyes squinted slightly as they took you in and your hand tightened around the strap of your bag.

What could he possibly want now?

“I learned a bit about crow shifters,” He started, taking large steps towards you. His legs were much longer than yours, and there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that he could out run you without much of an effort. “White skin, black hair. They said their lips and cheeks are redder than normal too. Timid,” He stopped a few steps away from you, and a glint caught your eye as he moved his bow from behind him. “And always carry light in case they need to run off flying.”

“I don’t know what about me seems timid to you,” You scoffed, half turning your back to him as you frantically thought of a way out of this situation. “But I was always told that my skin is too light. Never did like coming out to the sunlight, I always get burnt.” The boy’s eyes were still squinted at you, and you caught sight of his finger twitching on the wood of his bow. “And writers always carry light. Even though I honestly don’t see why I need to explain myself to a boy like you.”

The last of your words brought a frown to his brows.

“Good luck hunting your crow,” You nodded your head in acknowledgment before turning away completely, heading for the trail instead of the woods. It would look too suspicious now if you made any move that wasn’t what a normal traveler would do. His bow was still held tightly in his hand as he watched you leave. No footsteps came from behind you.

The town was still pretty lively for a late evening. You saw a few couples taking a stroll before it’ll get too late for them to walk around aimlessly. Mothers chased down children who refused to come back home to bathe. Everyday lives were all around you, and as always, you watched pieces of lives that you will never get to own yourself.

The anxious feeling in your stomach failed to subside and a glace above your shoulder confirmed the source – the boy walked into town right after you. His eyes were not trained solely on you, he took in his surroundings with a familiar look on his face. He looked much younger now.

You slipped between two huts when you were sure he wasn’t looking at you, weaving through the numerous huts in the hopes of losing him. The families housing the huts you passed stared at you as you passed by, but you couldn’t spare a moment to give them some mind. You couldn’t tell if it was paranoia caused by the feeling of a hunt or if there really were footsteps following closely behind you anymore.

Your feet carried you faster, more huts passing by you as you stepped closer and closer to the forest, almost there –

“Stop!” The man’s voice made you jump, and leap forward over the last fence to suppurate the village from the surrounding forest. Almost there.

A whistle flew right next to your arm, your eyes drawing to the arrow that missed you by a hair. You looked over your shoulder before you could stop your instinct to see the boy, standing steady with his bow trained on you, another arrow in the ready.

You had to move, now.

You broke into a run, hoping to gain enough momentum to leap right through the shift of your body. Your supplies will probably not stay on you or close enough for you to grab them, but this life and death situation didn’t allow you to care, not even for a second.

“Stop!” The boy called again and you readied your body for the transformation. He probably wanted to warn you again before he took another shot at you, it’s now or never. You felt the wings sprint from your back, black features spreading to feel the breeze as they tore your shirt apart. Shifting so suddenly hurt, the ripping of skin having no time to renew the skin bit by bit like it was supposed to. Your feet hovered above the ground. Wings arching up, tension building before they could lash down and lift you higher –

A new form of pain pierced right through one of your wings. Your shoulder came down to crash against the ground. Your head knocking down on the ground, air torn from your lungs thanks to the impact.

Your arms tingled as you lost touch with your nerves, legs unmoving even as your head screamed at them to. You could see darkness closing in on your blurred view of the sky, warm tears stretching across your cheeks to get swallowed in your hair.

Right before the darkness took over, you could make out a head of brown hair blocking your view of the blues, the freedom you craved most.

The next thing you felt was your body wildly rocking. The rocking had a set rhythm, and it came with a specific noise that you were sure you heard before, but with the haze in your mind it was hard to pinpoint. You felt disoriented with dull pain throbbing like an echo inside your head. You could feel a constant ache in your shoulder too, the nerves sending painful sparks every time the rocking occurs.

The part of you which already returned to rational thinking was deeply disappointed. After all those years of carefully crafted escapes and pathways of freedom, you were hunted down so easily. It was absurd. And by a hunter who clearly had no experience in hunting in any way, no less! The accuracy of his arrows might be a sign of some hunting experience, but the roughness of it told you he was probably used to hunting animals, not shifters.

You forced your eyes open, taking in your surroundings. The rocking came from the horse you were strapped to, and a quick look around informed you it was currently crossing a forest. Probably the one you tried escaping into earlier. The sun's position signaled the end of a day, the bit of sky you caught colored in hues. You were out for a few hours at least, and had no idea how far you were from where you passed out.

On the bright side, your fingers brushed against a material you recognized – your bag. Your kidnapper was nice enough to fetch it for you.

You could see the back of the hunter's head in you stretched yourself a certain way, which hurt your shoulder endlessly. The stretch also made you aware of the bandage, tightly wrapped around your shoulder.

You came across a pretty humane hunter, at least.

Your fingers felt around the knots that held your body to the horse to find them pretty easy to untie, even though you couldn't see them with your eyes. You struggled and pulled on the rough rope without moving too much, making sure the hunter still had his eyes trained ahead.

If you could time your fall well enough, and he'll stay unsuspecting, maybe you could make a run for it and disappear between the trees before he could even notice you were gone.

The ties came undone one by one, and you were hanging by a thread in no time. The last tie was the hardest to undo, with the lack of stability and your nerve system being on edge. You felt like any moment now the hunter will look back and realize you're too close to escaping –

The ropes finally untangled from one another and with the horse's next step, you were sent flying through the air. You twisted your legs and brought your hands forward, preparing yourself for a hopefully noiseless impact with the ground – only for your injured shoulder to be the first organ hitting the ground.

The groan of pain tore from you before you could contain it, and with a flash you caught the hunter's eyes as they widely stared over his shoulder at your body on the ground. The horse kept walking without disturbance, taking the hunter farther away from you as you steeled your body to move, and fast.

You were on your feet when the hunter shouted a comment at the horse to turn around, heels kicking into the ground to run as fast as you could. One of the ropes was still wrapped around your leg and you were worried you might step on it and trip. There wasn't enough time to spare and correct that mistake though, not when the sound of hoops hitting the ground grew closer with every second that passed.

The hunter's arm wrapped right under your chest, pulling you off of the ground with the power you knew those muscles held. "Hey, hey, hey," His voice came right next to your ear, the other arm joining around your body as you kicked and twisted your body in desperation to escape. "Stop fighting, you're injured! Just relax."

The horse stopped a few steps later and the hunter slid down from it with you in his arms, still putting up a fight even though you knew you mainly lost. You were obviously not strong enough to remove his hold from you, and your injury will not allow you to fly even if you had the opportunity to shift.

He has already won.

"Stop, stop come on," The hunter's voice sounded helpless, like he was the one trapped instead of you. "I'm not going to hurt you, just stop fighting."

"Tell that to my shoulder," You hissed, directing a kick to his leg. He whined at the pain but his grip on you never lessened, just like you thought. You weren't strong enough to win a physical fight with him.

"I'm sorry, okay? I had to!" The hunter pushed you down on your knees, allowing you less place to struggle. "You were already shifting, I had to. I had no choice."

You groaned in response but your struggles died down with the reckoning it was probably useless. Hopefully there will be other loopholes to exploit, this one is already doomed.

"I'm sorry I shot you," The hunter repeated behind you as he slipped a rope around your hands, his movements quick and accurate as he tied them together. "I really hoped to avoid it, but I had to hurt you to get what I want."

"What do you want?"

He pulled on the rope one last time, before helping you stand and lean against a tree. You carefully slid down to sit on the ground as he sat in front of you, pulling on the string wrapped around the horse's chest to bring it down with him. "My name is Jungkook," The hunter began as he pulled his hat from his head, and ruffled his bangs slightly. "Jeon Jungkook. I'm not a professional hunter, you might have noticed already."

"I did," You interrupted him, a careful blank look on your face.

Jungkook gave you a sheepish, small smile in response. "Yeah, I can't hide that. What I need from you though…" He cleared his throat, eyes drifting away from you. "A crow has the ability to bring someone from the dead, right?"

You stared at him for a few seconds to catch whatever information his expression could give you. He looked hesitant, like he wasn't sure this information was even correct. His eyes looked darker than before too, like the mare subject brings back bad memories.

You were sure he lost someone dear, and wanted to bring them back through you. The part you weren't sure about was rather he wanted you to bring them back like you brought that man's daughter, or bring them back to life.

"Sometimes," You let out at last.

His eyes flashed to you right before he ripped them away. "What times?"

You eyed him. "If I help you – as much as I'm able to – would you let me go?"

"Of course," Jungkook nodded eagerly, with a kind of innocence in his eyes to contras the tortured soul look he had in his eyes just seconds before. "As long as you cooperate, I won't have to hurt you."

You could hear the suggestive end to his tone, of what will happen if you choose not to cooperate with him. "Well," You sighed, bringing your knees to your chest in a defensive posture. "I wasn't taught the rules to their word. I usually try to feel around to know if the soul is ready for different kinds of journey. I must warn you, though," You gave him a piercing glace he couldn't help but meet with his own eyes. "If you want to bring someone back to life to stay in this world, the odds are definitely against you. It's almost impossible for a soul to remain grounded enough to come back."

You could see how your answer devastated him clearly through his body language. That's exactly what he meant. Talking to him was sort of like reading an open book, this kid never had to hide anything from anyone. Must be nice living so freely, you mused.

"How will you know if you can bring her back?" Jungkook's voice sounded smaller.

"I need to get to the holy ground, and something physical that belonged to that person. Since you shot my wing and I can't fly, we'll have to make the journey there on foot."

Jungkook grimaced, another sorry passing through his lips. "I'll get you there," He pulled a scarf from the inside of his worn out coat, pink and silky. "This belonged to her. Will it be enough?"

You simply nodded, watching him stuff it back where he pulled it from immediately. "Good. Great. Okay," Jungkook pulled himself up, his hands wrapping around your arms to pull you up without much effort. "Which way do we go?"

"We need to cross the sea." You simply blinked at the curse Jungkook muttered under his breath, his dissatisfaction with your answer looking like a fussy child's reaction. "The holy ground is an island, my instincts guide me to it by the wind. We just need a boat."

"You say it like it's easy," Jungkook murmured as he lifted you onto the horse's back, your balance lacking heavily without the support of your hands.

"You're the one who shot a crow in its wing." You raised an eyebrow which Jungkook didn't get to see as he climbed on himself. He simply huffed before pulling on the horse's rains to make him turn around, aiming for the same harbor city he was aiming to reach before you woke up.

  Night caught up with you before you could get very far, and Jungkook announced you’ll be taking a break and camping out when it got too dark to keep maneuvering a horse through the outgrown trees.

You watched Jungkook move around, spreading the tent he had on tied on his horse and collecting enough wood to light a fire. Your hands were still tied so you leaned against a tree and watched him. You felt useless since you weren’t able to make camp with him, but he was the one who tied you up in the first place, so it’s his problem.

Instead you focused on the pains being on a horse left behind. Jungkook was obviously used to it, but you weren’t, and the movements of the horse jerked and moved you in a way that didn’t agree well with your body. You stretched your legs out, raising one as far as it’ll go before raising the other. Your back stayed straight against the tree, so the stretch was affective and helped immediately.

Next you roll your shoulders back and forth, before rolling your head from one shoulder to the other. Your movements were limited by the rope wrapped around your hands. You still felt better when you stretched in any way this position allowed you though.

“Not used to riding a horse?”

Your eyes lifted at Jungkook’s sudden question and you took in the sight on his arms, bulking while carrying an especially big branch. “Not at all,” You admitted.

“Must be stiff then,” Jungkook dropped the branch down on the pile of wood he set, and started kicking parts of it to suppurate them into smaller pieces.

“I’d really help if you’d untie my hands. I could attend to the stiffness better,” You suggested, knowing fully well there’s a good chance it won’t work on him. He threw a glance your way, holding your gaze for a few seconds before averting his eyes with a shake of his head.

“I need to change the bandages on your wing later. I’ll untie your hand when your injury is at my mercy.”

“Sounds delightful,” You huffed, the obvious rolling of your eyes making him chuckle but say no more words.

It didn’t take him long to start a fire, the flames lighting up your space before the darkness could swallow it. The moon hung right above the tops of the trees, its pale light fleeting through the treetops. Jungkook took a walk in the woods right after, hunting gear in hand. It took him a few minutes to come back, two birds in his hands.

You swallowed thickly as you looked at him treating his meat, the sight too much for you yet you still couldn’t find the will to look away. “You probably don’t eat meat, do you?”

“Not bird meat.”

Jungkook’s hands hesitated for a second, and you found he was watching you. “You won’t eat this then?” You shook your head as an answer and Jungkook wiped his nose across his arm as he looked up. “Maybe I can find you some fruit or something. It’s almost summer, they might not be ripe but eatable enough.”

You raised both eyebrows as he still watched the trees around them. “Why not just starve me?”

The frown he gave you surprised you only by a little. He must have not even think of this possibility. “I have nothing to gain from torturing you. I need to get you to that island in one piece to bring my sister back.”

“If I could bring your sister back,” You corrected. Jungkook pushed to stand on his feet, turning his back on you and walking away, back to the woods. It took him longer this time, and when he came back his hat was in his hands. He placed it carefully in front of you, hands on your shoulders pulling you away from the tree to sit you with your back to him.

You peaked inside the hat, finding he filled it with berries, mushrooms and even two types of nuts. He didn’t bring much, but you could tell he tried. The rope came undone from between your hands, and you immediately brought them forward to rub at were the rope pressed for too long into your skin. “Take your wing out,” Jungkook instructed as he stretched his body behind you to reach for his back.

 Sharp pangs on pain came with the action of pulling your wing out, and you tilted your head back to look at it. Your black features hung weakly, some caught in the binding fabric Jungkook placed on them. You could smell the strong scent of a certain cream he must have put on you while you were unconscious.

“Here.” A small bottle landed near your knee before you felt Jungkook’s hands gently closing around your injured wing. “You can put that on your wrists. If you’ll start losing blood it’ll make the journey harder, and there’s no reason to do that.”

“Thank you,” You said lowly as you grabbed the bottle and popped the lid open. The scent was strong, and it tickled when you applied it to your irritated skin. You could feel the swift movements of his fingers on your wing, gently pulling the bandage off. He applied something to your wing, small noises of different things moving around came from behind you.

You whipped your hands against your skirt when you were done taking care of your wrists. You still couldn’t roll your shoulders to take out the knacks when he took care of your wing, so you moved your attention to his filled hat instead. You heard before of different mushrooms taking different effects on humans and shifters alike. Your caretaker always advised you to not eat a mushroom unless you were sure it wasn’t toxic.

“Did you just randomly pick mushrooms?” You asked carefully, pushing a few berries passed your lips as you waited for an answer.

“My mother studies plants,” Jungkook said from behind you as his fingers moved through your features to apply the smelly cream thoroughly. “I was taught how to distinguish them. They won’t drug you.”

“Were you taught how to tend to injuries too?” You asked, biting on a mushroom now that you knew it was safe. The earthy flavor met well with the sweetness of the barriers, and your stomach felt very happy for finally getting food again.

“My father is the town physician. I watched him fix people since a young age too.”

You considered the information as you continued to eat, and thinking about what you saw of Jungkook so far. If he was already this open with you, you might as well try to get as much information from him as you could. “How did the son of the plant studier and the physician become a hunter?” He didn’t reply immediately, and you managed to continue before he could, “Usually children of educated parents would be educated as well. If not by studying then by doing – “

“My father is training me to become a physician myself. I only became a hunter temporarily for my sister.”

You hummed, pleased to see you were right. He really wasn’t a hunter, not one who will continue to hunt once he’s done with you.

Hopefully, he won’t kill you when it ends either.

“What happened to your si – “

“Stop,” Jungkook cut you off before you could even finish your sentence, his tone sharp like a knife. “That’s enough questions for one day. Eat quietly.”

 You complied with only one glance at him above your shoulder, but he was too busy with your wing to look back at you. You concentrated on your food instead like he ordered. It’s not obvious that he’ll feed you on the way to what he needs, so that’ll have to do for now.

 When his work was finished he told you to move your wing back in, and tied your hands with the rope again, in front of you this time so you could keep eating. You thanked him and was granted no answer in return, only his back as he turned it on you.

 No more words passed between you as Jungkook roasted his meat and ate it, the atmosphere thick with tension. You were sure that if you would have chosen any other subject but his sister, Jungkook wouldn’t have cut off the conversation to sit in silence like this. It was probably too sensitive to talk about, must have happened recently.

 You raised your voice one last time to ask Jungkook if he could throw you your bag to sleep on. He threw it without a word to the tent, his action telling you to sleep in there even as he refused to speak. You barely succeeded to pull yourself on your feet to reach it, putting a fight since you knew Jungkook will not help you.

 The last thing you saw before you fell asleep is the flash of silver from the piece of metal Jungkook played with between his hands, his eyes looking ahead in thoughts you can't begin to imagine.

  Morning came and with it, the realization you probably won't succeed to sleep well as long as Jungkook keeps your hands bound. Your shoulders were so stiff you had troubles pulling yourself into a sitting position without help from the boy. He grimaced and muttered something about getting ready to move, untying you to tie only one of your hands to a tree. You busied yourself with every stretching technique you've ever heard of as Jungkook packed up your camp, loading it on his horse again. He fed it too, the same barriers he gave you last night.

 "Are you ready?" Jungkook asked when he was finally done.

 You nodded and Jungkook stepped closer immediately, untying your hand from the tree only to tie it to your other hand. He moved the rope from where it rested before to check how your skin was doing underneath. You frowned at him as he sighed and paused to take pull a dirty fabric from his pocket, strong arms ripping it in two.

 "What are you doing?"

 "I'll wrap it around the rope so it won't harm your skin too much," Jungkook replied as he put his hands to it, slipping the fabric against your itchy skin. "It's not the cleanest thing, but it'll keep your skin from breaking."

 "Why do you care if my skin breaks?"

 Jungkook raised widened eyes to meet your own, "I have no reason to make this trip uncomfortable for you. I only caught you to bring my sister back, that's all."

You nodded weakly, looking away as he finished placing the fabric to his liking. This kind of behavior confused you, with all the stories you heard so far, and Jungkook's earlier words. If you won't help him, he will hurt you. You didn't even know how much you should trust his promise to let you go when it's done.

After all, what he's asking for could be impossible and you weren't sure how he'll react to that.

When Jungkook was finally done he lead you through the rope to the horse, lifting you onto it with ease before pulling himself up. You stayed in silence as his horse made his way along the path, steps quickening with time. You tried relaxing your body as much as you could to make the jerking of the horse more manageable, which failed. Miserably.

"You should move on it like a swing," Jungkook spoke up suddenly. "Moving your hips back and forth with the movement. Don't fight it and don't relax, both will hurt your back."

"Thank you," you said softly, taking his advice into consideration. He chuckled and you assumed he just felt you jerking less now, as you brushed against his back a few times in a battle for balance.

"You know," Jungkook began and you watched the muscles of his back moving as he rested his hands down on the horse's back. "When my parents told me about shifters, I was never scared of you. I mean, maybe a little of the predator ones, but I was interested in it. I always listened to hunters and collected pieces of information to realize what you are." You listened carefully, not sure what kind of story he's beginning to tell you. "I still remember the day my dad found out about crows specifically. He came home all excited and said he knew it, with all the abilities popping around, there had to be one used to heal! He tried finding out more about your kind, but he failed to get a lot."

 "My mother was killed before she could say too much," You commented and could feel immediately how the mood just got sucked from the moment.

 Jungkook's arms tightened around the rains in his hands, "Your mother was the informant?"

 "She was."

 The next few minutes were filled with tense silence. At last, Jungkook cleared his throat to choke through, "I heard all the informants were killed. Sorry for your loss."

 "It wasn't really a loss, I was too young to remember her."

 "Is that why you weren't taught how your powers work?" Jungkook threw a glance over his shoulder.

 "Yeah. I was grown by wolves, literally, so I had to learn by doing," You chuckled, your heart filled with warmth for the mere thought about the family you grew up with.

 "I think you're amazing. Your kind, I mean," Jungkook corrected himself quickly, and you didn't miss the way his shoulders stiffened momentarily. "As a future physician, being able to do good for someone even after they die… That's a really positive thought."

 "It feels kind of amazing, actually," You caught Jungkook eye as he threw another glance at you. "Helping the dead say goodbye to their loved ones, passing them on. It feels good."

 "Did you ever bring someone back?"

 That's exactly the question you were afraid he'll ask you, "No."

 As you expected, Jungkook grew very quiet after hearing your answer. You knew what kind of high hopes he had for your help, and you knew very well it might never happen. You met other crows on the island, and you asked so many times in the hopes of getting to meet your mother. Your bubble was popped very quickly.

 Always, there was a warning attached to the same straightforward sentence – Don't mess with the rest of the dead.

 Jungkook’s shoulders remained drawn up and his movements to control his horse was sharp and sudden. You figured he must be thinking about it, the possibility that his journey would be for none. You wondered again what will happen to you if he were to end this journey unhappy.

 With both of you lost in thought, the time stretched to feel as if it wasn’t passing at all. Every minute felt like an hour and the air was too stiff to breathe in comfortably. You kept looking left and right, willing the nature surrounding you to give you any sort of peace. Anything.

 “Great,” Jungkook groaned, pulling you away from your thoughts to notice the horse was slowing down to a stop. You curiously glanced over his shoulder to see you were facing a three way fork in the road. “Do you know which one leads to the sea?”

 You took a deep breathe, closing your eyes and reaching out to the crow side of you. The feedback you received was a sharp pain in your shoulder. You flinched and shook you head even though he couldn’t see, “No clue. Maybe we should just follow one and find out?”

 “If we choose the wrong one it’s going to take a lot of time,” Jungkook shut down your idea immediately. “We don’t have that kind of time. What do we do?”

You stayed quiet behind him. Whenever you weren’t sure what to do, you would fly above the tree tops to get a better clue of the air and direction, but that was obviously not an option with your injury. You had absolutely no idea if guessing wasn’t on the table.

“Hey there!” A voice called behind you and a quick look to the direction of the voice explained why your instincts suddenly flagged you to run. Out of the right hand of the fork came another rider – obviously a hunter. Behind him was strapped a girl, almost completely hidden behind the man’s back until she peaked up to see who he was talking to. You saw her mouth was gagged and her hands tied cruelly in a blood-filled rope.

The hunter smiled at Jungkook before his eyes moved to look at you curiously. You hid your hands against Jungkook’s left side, to make sure he doesn’t get the idea that you’re a shifter until he walks away. “Got lost, boy?”

“Y-Yeah, we are a little lost,” Jungkook lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck as you watched his shoulders relax with relief. “We’re heading for the sea, and I don’t know which way leads there.”

“I’m going the same direction! If we’ll head together I could guide you and your little lady thought. Numbers are good against bandits too,” The man drew nearer and you felt every muscle in your body tense. This man was evil, you could feel it just by his aura. Your eyes met with the girl’s briefly, and you could almost physically feel the pain she was going through just by that simple look in her eyes.

“That would be great.” The smile you heard clearly in Jungkook’s voice made you want to scream.

“Good boy. I’m Hunk,” The man pointed his thumb shortly behind him at the girl. “That’s a Wakin fish, good with fortune. Caught a young one though, so her predictions are still pretty vague. Could give you a special price if you want her to predict for you.”

“Thanks but I think I’ll pass,” Jungkook started walking his horse close to the man. “I’m Jungkook, and this is,” Jungkook paused, looking unsurely at you.

You realized you never told him your name before, and he never asked. “Y/N,” You completed.

“Traveling with a girl without knowing her name?” Hunk raised an eyebrow, walking straight to the left side of the fork for Jungkook to follow. His eyes racked over your figure again, to stop at the hands you could no longer hide from him when your horses aligned.

“She’s a shifter too.”

“Fish shifter?” Hunk guessed, giving you a greedy look before looking ahead to maneuver his horse accordingly to the shifting in the road.

“Crow.”

Hunk whistled loudly, jotting a few birds from the nearby trees. “How’d ya get yourself a crow shifter? Those are really rare, boy.”

“I looked for one for quite some time,” Jungkook answered with a slight lowering of his head. You were so used to hearing hunters speak of shifters like they were nothing more than a property they stole for themselves, and you wondered how Jungkook felt about it, especially since he spend more than a few hours in the company of one. “I got lucky.”

“Very lucky, do you know how much they’re worth? You could be filthy rich!”

You felt like throwing up.

“I’m not going to sell her,” Jungkook said in a firm tone. You breathed out as quietly as you could, trying to will your body to relax. Jungkook still needs you, he won’t give you away to this awful man.

“Well okay boy, might as well keep her,” Hunk raised a hand with a chuckle which didn’t sound so amused. “What’d you do to keep her from running, though?”

Jungkook took a few seconds to respond, “Her wing is injured.”

“Shot her right in the wing, huh? Atta boy!” The hunter’s hand came to clap on Jungkook’s shoulder, making you jerk your body back in fear that he’ll touch you. The sudden movement threw your balance off, forcing you to close your fingers around the fabric of Jungkook’s shirt to keep you grounded.

“You okay?” Jungkook looked over his shoulder, an arm coming out to grab a hold of yours and study you. You nodded and allowed your body to relax back into the rocking of the horse.

“No need to act so jerky, crow,” Hunk shook his head and gave a small laugh at the angry expression that you couldn’t pull from your face in time. He turned back to Jungkook and added, “Maybe you should consider shooting her in the foot as well. One look away from her and she could sprint, with just tied hands it won’t be too hard to run.”

“There’s no need. She won’t run.” His words sounded sure enough, but you could spot a slight quiver in Jungkook’s tone. You shut your eyes, hoping with your entire heart he won’t take the hunter’s words to heart because really, you weren’t going to run. It would just risk more injuries, when you just wanted this to be over.

“Suit yourself. Shot this one in the fin, the leg and the shoulder. She won’t get far.”

You moved wide eyes to look at the girl behind him, her head hanging low and her entire body bent in defeat. You could spot a bloody fabric wrapped around her calf, and another wrapped around her waist. Your heart went out to her, and you wished nothing more than being able to help her.

“That’s horrible,” Jungkook spoke up, and you noticed he too was looking at the girl. “I’m a training physician, I can look at her wounds.” The hunter gave Jungkook a disgusted look, which forced him to hurriedly add, “She won’t be of much use to you if it gets infected and raise her fever.”

He seemed to be considering this for a while, before nodding,  “When you put it that way. We’ll have to camp the night, so you can look at it then.”

“And we’ll reach the sea by tomorrow?”

“We should.”

Jungkook nodded and looked ahead, hiding his face from you. You had a very bad feeling about this.

  Night fell quickly, but with Hunk's guidance you went through most of the way to the sea. You could already smell the saltiness in the air, and that feeling you only got when you were out in the open instead of hiding among treetops.

Hunk announced he'll catch an animal to feed on, hopefully a bird, he added when he caught you looking at him. You were about to speak up when Jungkook blocked you, telling him anything but birds or fish will be fine. You could clearly see the disdain in Hunk's look every time Jungkook showed a bit of humanity towards either you or his hostage.

It's a good thing he walked into the woods before he could see Jungkook attending to the Walkin fish's injury. "I'll need your help too," Jungkook said as he untied your hands. He hooked one end of the rope to the tree like he did the night before, giving your skin a look before deeming it covered enough. "You can reach the water over there, right? I read fish shifters like using water to hydrate their skin. Not sure how hydrated she is when he treats her this way."

You nodded and stretched the rope to the end of its abilities in order to reach the jug of water Hunk kept on his horse. You moved closer again to see Jungkook frowning deeply at the wound on her leg, stretched behind her so she won't worry herself with the treatment. You pulled the gag that covered the girl's mouth off, giving her a smile. "What's your name?"

"Eunji," The girl answered in a harsh voice before you helped her hold onto the jug and tilt it to drink from it. She drank quite a lot, and you could see the improvement in her face almost immediately after you helped her lower it to the ground again.

"Take this," Jungkook held a piece of fabric towards you, and you took it. "Wet it with water and try cleaning the gun shot on her shoulder. I see an exit wound, so it wouldn't be so bad."

You nodded and set your hands to work. Only when you grabbed her right shoulder to hold her in place did you feel how much she was shaking. Her eyes kept moving to the left – where Jungkook was – before she snapped them forward, shutting them tightly for a second only for the process to repeat. She was so scared.

"Jungkook is a good man, he won't hurt you," You eyed her as you pressed the fabric to her injury, getting barely a whine back. She nodded stiffly, but her body didn't become any less motionless and surrendered.

"I really won't," You saw Jungkook's hand pressing into Eunji's shoulder, making the small girl jump. "I want to help you."

"Thank you," She replied in a small voice, and you saw her shoulders relax a little.

You worked quietly and so did Jungkook. You glanced at him a few times to see his expression improving as he progressed in treating Eunji's wounds. You finished cleaning the wound and washed the cloth well before you used it to pad the inside of her tied hands, like Jungkook has done to you earlier. Eunji tilted her head at your questions but said nothing as she allowed you to suppurate the tough material from her injured skin.

"You're not scared of him." Only when her voice reached your ears did you notice how closely Eunji was eyeing you. "You're worried, but you're not scared. You have no reason to be."

"Jungkook never expressed a will to hurt me as long as I do what he asks," You answered the question she didn't word.

"Must be nice. Even when I do what he wants, Hunk hurts me," Eunji's voice grew smaller with each word, and you caught her looking at the space where Hunk disappeared to.

"I'm really sorry to hear that, Eunji," You felt like there was so much more you should have said in that moment, but you couldn't find the words to. Jungkook is the only one who could buy her off of Hunk, and you had the feeling that the experienced hunter wasn't going to even consider that kind of trade. Not unless he got you in return.

"I wish I could help you," Jungkook spoke from behind her. You lifted your eyes to look at him, and you found he avoided even touching Eunji as he spoke. His face's features aligned in perfectly visible guilt, the kind you'd be a fool to miss.

"I know you can't." You saw a flash from the corner of your eye. Your senses drew you to it, and your breath was caught in your throat as you took in the distinct change in Eunji's eyes. The blue of her eyes flooded the white of her eyeball and her iris, leaving nothing but endless, sparkling sea in sight. The blue vibrated, the color bright and deep and you felt yourself getting lost in it, even though she wasn't looking at you. "I could feel the torment in your soul from the first moment I saw you. I didn't even need to tap into my powers to know," Eunji paused, and her voice got deeper, like you were listening to the bottom of the ocean speak.

The air felt tighter in your lungs and you couldn't look away, not even when you felt like something was wrong. This is too deep for a crow like you. Eunji brought in air, the movement making your hairs stand on end. "You were wounded by loss. Your heart is shackled and bound to feel the missing hole in it burning, every day. Always. You seek a way out but my friend, the truth will not change not even by the greatest will of the greatest man. The truth, is in the crow, and she can tell what the fate of your heart will be."

The moment Eunji ended her sentence her body slurped forward, eyes shut. She suddenly looked drained, like that swim to the depth inside of her took so much strength she barely had to begin with. With wide eyes you looked at Jungkook, taking in the horrified expression you've never seen before.

He was just as scared of whatever happened here as you were.

"You stupid fish," The sound of something heavy drop snapped you out of the trance, drawing your attention to Hunk's obviously angry figure. What he dropped was the dead body of a boar, and your astonishment of that achievement was swallow in the threatening steps he took towards you. His hand closed around Eunji's arm, yanking her from where she sat. Before you could even think about reacting, a punch landed against Eunji's face, dropping her right back to the ground. One of Hunk's hands held Eunji's head by her hair as the other one forced the dirty gag back to her mouth, which took a few tries since she was openly sobbing.

Hunk allowed her girl to fall down to the ground before his harsh eyes landed on Jungkook. "You need to pay me for that service. She was supposed to keep her fucking mouth shut."

Jungkook pulled his small sack of coins from his pocket and gave Hunk the sum he asked for without any form of argument. Hunk murmured more angry words under his breathe, stuffing the coins in his pocket before walking back to the boar and preparing it to be roasted. Jungkook moved quickly to sit next to you, his shoulder bumped into yours for what you assumed was reassurance.

The older hunter tried cracking a few jokes to lighten the mood he spoiled, his jokes met with mostly silence. Both you and Eunji – who calmed down a few minutes after the violent part of the evening was over – stayed wire quiet, and Jungkook only spoke short words to him. Hunk frowned at him a few times, and you wondered if he even saw anything wrong with what he's done.

The boar barely passed through your throat, and you only succeeded to eat because Jungkook wordlessly encouraged you. The frown set heavily in his features, but this time you weren't sure if his thoughts were directed at the violence, or Eunji's cryptic words. Either way, he had a lot to think about, and you didn't think he'll try talking to you.

You crawled into the tent Jungkook set up the very first moment you could, and Jungkook moved to sit in front of your tent immediately. You briefly wondered if he was trying to protect you from Hunk, but that kind of thought could never lead to a good place, so you cleared your mind from it.

The fire died down before you heard the small noises that came from Jungkook entering the tent, and you felt him with your half-awake mind lying next to you. His leg inched closer until it met your own, and you felt the warmth of his skin pressing there for the rest of the night, until morning rose.

  When you came to, Jungkook’s warmth wasn’t there anymore. You lifted your head to look behind you, confirming his loss before you pulled yourself up. You got used to standing up without your hands, as they were still tied firmly to each other. Getting out of the low built tent was a slightly different story, but you made it without falling on your face. It took you a few minutes to catch up to the changes of your camp – Hunk’s horse was no longer is sight, along with his tent, his belonging, Eunji and himself. Jungkook sat near the dying fire as he poked it with a twig.

“Where are Hunk and Eunji?”

Jungkook turned to look at you, “They left earlier. Hunk explained to me how to get to the city and stormed off.” You nodded, walking towards the small jug Jungkook kept his water in. “I think he was scared you’ll give Eunji any ideas to rebel against him.”

You lifted the jug with no problem, drinking enough to take away the slightly numb feeling sleeping so well gave you. You worked Jungkook’s words in your head, and you knew exactly what he was talking about. Because your kind of shifter had a lot less information than the other kinds, humans labeled you as this scary thing that you need to watch out from. Not much came out of it since there was so few of you – either that or they were extremely good at hiding – but you still heard hushed words on the subject.

You also remembered the advice Hunk gave Jungkook about you, to shoot your leg to keep you from escaping. Jungkook must have heard about your mysterious existence when he started looking for a crow, and you ran away from him once. You said you’d help, but was it really enough for him to trust you this much?

“Why didn’t you shoot me in the leg like Hunk said?” You asked before you even registered you were going to speak your thoughts.

Jungkook huffed and pushed himself up, brushing the back of his pants roughly as he walked closer to you. You remained unmoving to see what he’ll do. His hands closed around your waist and you flinched slightly, not sure what the contact meant. Jungkook lifted you onto the horse’s back, and climbed on himself without giving an answer to your question.

Jungkook dug his heel into the horse and it made a small noise before it started walking the way it was directed by Jungkook’s pull on the rains. Your eyes were glued to the back of Jungkook’s head, but he didn’t look at you or spoke a word to you.

Not even an hour later, you could spot the last bunch of trees before the road opened into the dusty way into town. The salty smell in the air was much more prominent now, and you could almost feel it, the feeling of utter freedom in your chest. Jungkook maneuvered his horse quickly through the town, using the vibrant blue of the ocean as a guide. You passed through a market on your way, men and women selling fish and other sea creatures, a variety you’ve never seen before. You flew over this town so many times before, but you never flew low enough to catch the magic of its life.

“Stay quiet and let me handle everything,” Jungkook threw above his shoulder as he slid off of his horse, walking it to one of the tying stations on the edge of town. He pulled you down as well, and he took a moment to look at your tied hands before shaking his head and walking into the hut by the tying station. You figured they will take care of the horse while you and Jungkook continued your adventures in the sea.

Jungkook took a while to speak to the owner, and you busied yourself by brushing the horse’s mane with your fingers. It was calm, eyes casted at the sea as if it caught his interest. You wondered if Jungkook ever brought it to the ocean before, or if the sights, smells and feelings were all foreign to his horse.

“We have two days,” Jungkook passed right next to you before he kept walking ahead. You hesitated only for a moment before you turned to follow him, leaving the horse behind. You’ll probably never see it again, if everything goes as plan and Jungkook won’t have any sudden heart changes.

You remained as quiet as Jungkook asked of you earlier though his conversations with a few sailors. The first few took one look at you and immediately shook their head. You knew it was common knowledge, what that island was. Many feared coming close to a land associated with the dead.

Jungkook kept asking, his stubbornness pulling through for him. At last you found one man, very young looking and absolutely gorgeous, who was willing to sail you there. He even flashed his pearly whites as he informed you he always wanted to go, but never found a good enough reason to bring back to mama for approval.

The sailor’s eyes landed on you a few lines of conversation later, and you watched as his warm orbs fleshed with realization and endless curiosity. He still held respect to Jungkook and stopped himself from asking anything about it though.

Jungkook’s hand closed around your arm as he led you behind the sailor, helping you safely climb the boat. The wind blew your hair around your frame as his boat started towards the ocean, filling your eyes with endless blues.

You made your way to the bow of the ship, where you couldn’t see a sign of the town anymore. You leaned your tied hands against the rail, looking forward to the dark land ahead – the land where the three of you were headed. It won’t even take a day to reach it, you knew this would soon end. One way or the other.

“Don’t walk off on your own,” Jungkook’s voice came from behind you, but you were expecting him to find you, so the reaction he received was close to none. He leaned on your left, mimicking your posture as he looked ahead like you did.

“I can’t run away anymore. I don’t know how to swim, so my only option is flying,” You informed him, moving your eyes to catch his profile. “Which you know I can’t do.”

“You could soon,” Jungkook flashed his eyes at you in acknowledgment before returning them to the sea. “The wound heals nicely. I put some powerful stuff on it, and its reacting well since your body is healthy.”

“Thank god,” You breathed out, closing your eyes as the wind whipped against your face. “Not every hunter I’ll run into will be as nice as you’ve been.”

“I didn’t shoot your leg because I believe you want to try and help me.” You reopened your eyes at his words. “It would be easy to hurt you just to be sure, but it won’t service me if it turns away your will to help.”

“So you believed in the goodness of my heart.”

"Pretty much."

You chuckled, your frown relaxing. Even though he took such an important role on himself, he was still innocent at heart, somehow. It was a weird thing to say about the boy who shot you but you knew it was true. You took a deep breathe in, looking up at endless blue that warmed your heart. The skies always held a special place in your heart, thanks to the nature of your shift and the possibilities it offered.

A gleam caught your attention from the corner of your eye, bringing you to look down at Jungkook's hands. They were busily running over the same thing he used to play with by the fire. It was the first time you saw the item in the light of day, and you couldn't say you were surprised at the fact it was a very girly necklace. The pendent was shaped like a butterfly, pink stones adorn its wings.

"It was your sister's?" You asked, watching his fingers fluttering for only a second across the silver.

Jungkook hummed and slid the butterfly to rest in his palm so you could see it better. Now when it wasn't moving, you could spot the faded stains of blood. "I pulled it off of her before they buried her. She loved this necklace so much, it made her very happy. I just wanted to keep this happy memory with me."

"I can understand that," you brushed your finger across the body of the butterfly, and Jungkook let you. "I wish I could have something of my mother's to carry with me."

"Did you ever try to bring her back?" You felt Jungkook's eyes on you and when you moved to meet them you were surprised at how soft they were, all of a sudden. Maybe it was talking about his sister that brought this side of him on.

"It was the first thing I tried when I found out it's possible for my kind. It was too late though, she moved on."

Jungkook spoke in a much smaller voice "What did you do?"

"After I knew it's impossible?" You almost didn't see the nod you got in response. "I got over it. Death cuts connections like a knife for so many people, I get to have second chances. If it didn't succeed, it wasn't meant to happen." Jungkook shut his eyes tightly, his fist closing around the necklace. His head lowered to hide his face from you, but you already spotted the fear implanted in his features. You knew it'll only play against you if this fear will spread roots in his heart before you even reached the island, so you lightened your voice and looked ahead at the horizon. "What happened to your sister?"

Jungkook sighed and kept his head down. "She used to go out and bring herbs father and I needed with our mother. On the day it happened, mother asked her to go alone. We were treating a child who caught a violent type of infection, so we needed her helping hands on him." Jungkook paused when his voice got a little tighter, and you allowed this moment to breathe without interrupting it. "The herbs we needed were just on the edge of the forest, she wasn't supposed to go this far. There was a tiger shifter in the woods, he saw she was alone, and venerable."

The tears sounded clearly through Jungkook's voice. He wiped quickly at one of his eyes, and you looked away like you missed the movement, in case he checked if you saw. "He ripped her apart. My mother noticed she took too long, and she went out to look for her. Everything changed since."

You hummed, lost on words to say. Even though you lost your mother, it happened when you were too young to even know who you were, so you never experienced loss. You didn't know what it felt like, to love a person and lose them in one sharp move, without preparation or reason.

"I hope it'll work," Jungkook released his words into the air.

"I hope so too."

"Jungkook." The boy hummed. "Promise me you'll never hunt anyone after me. Being a hunter, even if it's temporary, doesn't suit you."

"I promise."

You nodded before turning your attention back to the ocean. The young sailor maneuvered through the waves expertly, you didn't even get a hint of sea sickness from the waves which guided you through. The island must have been closer to land than you thought it was, you could already spot the familiar sand coming near you quickly.

Just a little more, and your journey will end.

"Hitting shore!" The sailor's shout from behind you broke you out of your trance, and Jungkook asked you to grab the rail. You did and the contact with the land barely jolted you.

This time Jungkook was the one to follow you as you stepped off of the boat. The sailor's chipper step followed the two of you onto the island. You walked in silence in the direction your inner compass pointed, trusting in your crow instincts to come through and help you find what it was you were looking for.

You passed through a tight row of trees, and finally, there was the cave that lead to the underworld. The heavy feeling that surrounded it felt like a comforting blanket to you, but you've heard stories about how it felt for others. You watched Jungkook shiver, and the sailor's face lost any trace of the warm colors they held before.

"I-I'll wait on the boat," The scared boy blurred before he turned around, making his way quickly to disappear behind the trees you just crossed.

Your eyes moved to Jungkook, expecting him to give up on going in on his own. His eyes met yours, shaken and scared but the determination in them never lessened. "Give me the scarf," You asked and he dropped to his knees to search for the fabric through his bag. Your fingers closed around the fabric when he offered it to you, but you didn't miss the slight shake. "You don't have to go in there with me. I know it must feel wrong to you."

Jungkook shook his head sharply, pulling the straps of his bag back onto his shoulder. "I came all this way, I won't give up now. Let's go."

You nodded and held the scarf against your chest, before walking right into the darkness of the cave. As the sunlight shone less and less brightly from behind you, the cave's walls slowly filled with bright gems who lit up when they sensed your presence. The way into the cave always felt amazing to you, how the walls and souls which lived in them all knew who you were at heart, and what you came here to do.

Jungkook bumped into you a few times in his tries to keep his step closer to you. You peaked over your shoulder to find him staring with amazement at your surroundings, even though his unease came through from his entire body.

You felt how close you were getting with each step you took, until finally the cave opened up to reveal the round space in the middle of it. The walls were filled with paintings, tales older than time, present since death first showed its face to this world. Jungkook's hand closed around your elbow and you moved it to your own, squeezing his fingers. "We made it."

Jungkook simply nodded as he stared around the room with wide eyes.

You lead him to the only item in the room. It was a floors fountain made of black marvel, the gleam of the stone shining with promise. You always wondered why it was shaped as a fountain when water never meant to run down it. Each floor had a different color of clear glass, with fog flowing under its surface. You watched that fog react to so many things before, you knew how angry and how calm it could get.

Today, your entire heart was hoping for calm.

Jungkook stood beside you, his body stiff with fear of the unknown as his eyes darted from one floor of the fountain to the other. You pealed his hand from yours, and let it drop by the side of his body. "I need both hands for this," Jungkook swallowed, his head barely moving with a nod.

His reaction to this place was kind of fascinating to you, but you couldn't afford to dwell on it.

You needed the third floor, the one that reached a little below your chin. The fog crawled inside of it, small and seemingly unthreatening. You wondered before if the size of it was a hint to what hard odds of success are.

You lifted both of your hands above it, the scarf dangling from your right hand. The fog paused the moment it felt your presence, and gathered right below the scarf as you lowered it onto the glass surface. It stayed there, allowing you to begin the chant you knew from the depth of your soul in request to help you find the soul you're looking for. You spoke the words softly under your breath, feeling the tension rising in your stomach as the fountain used your power to reach below.

Nothing happened but that buzzing feeling for a few moments, and Jungkook's breath got so quiet you thought he might be holding it in anticipation. You forced your focus on the fountain and what it does, watching the fog closely. As seconds ticked by you held the fabric of the scarf tighter between your fingers.

In one fluid motion, the fog moved away from the scarf – and began bouncing everywhere. It riled up for two heart beats before clearing away from the scarf. A heavy feeling spread in your chest.

"What," Jungkook whispered, too afraid to construct an actual sentence.

You shook your head, your eyes meeting his. "She moved on. There's no way for me to reach out to even allow you to speak to her." Jungkook started shaking his head, eyes leaving yours to get lost in his own grief as he slowly dropped to his knees. "I know this is not what you wanted, but Jungkook – she found peace. She'll never get hurt again – "

"Are you doing this on purpose?" Jungkook's angry tone cut your sentence sharply. Even through the anger you could hear the tears tightening his throat.

"No," You laid a hand on Jungkook's shoulder only for him to hit it away. The sharpness of his rough contact with your arm caught you by surprise, and you stumbled for a second before you caught yourself. "Jungkook, I promised you that I'd help you. There's nothing I could do, I – "

What stopped you this time was the pained cry that left Jungkook. His eyes were screwed shut and he was shaking his head, you saw this stage of grief before. The hope he held before disappeared, and now all he was left with is pain and the only road he could walk – coming to terms with his sister's death.

You watched his body rock with his sobbing, and even though this cave was a part of you, you felt very out of place in front of his overdue grief. Now that your journey with Jungkook reached its very unfortunate end, you had to make sure you'll stay safe.

You needed to get out of there in case Jungkook's sadness turns into rage.

Still, your heart wouldn't allow you to just walk away from him. If he needed you again… Maybe you could help. Even if just to repay the kindness he showed towards you in a situation it was a norm to act otherwise. With that decision made you pulled your wing out, just enough to pluck one of your features out with only a slight wince.

You knew crows had more abilities then other birds, and the last crow you met told you about a contact method to keep in touch with other shifters or humans you cared about. You gave one of your features to your adopting mother so she could tell you if they run into any sort of troubles, and this second feature – you decided to give Jungkook. If he'll need you, he can contact you through that features with ease.

"Jungkook, take this," You laid the feature right next to his knee, not daring to touch him after how he reacted the last time. "You can contact me as long as you keep my feature. If you'll need me… I will find you." You straightened, taking a few steps back. "Leave without me. And Jungkook…" You paused, frowning as you looked at his hunched, pain filled figure. "Stay safe."

With that, you turned your back on him. Jungkook didn't acknowledge you in any ways, and his sobs echoed on the walls on the cave, surrounding you as you left him behind. In the depth of your heart, you wanted to stay and help that boy you got to meet, the boy with the healing hands and the golden heart. You also knew you could never do that.

A pray's fate is never to live with their hunter. This law held truth to you as well.