#this went over the word limit by a bit oof

[midnight-mourning]

Sweet Seas

💘💘Midnight's DCA Valentine's Day 1💘💘

Starting out strong with some fish! And by strong i mean this is very syrupy sweet/fluffy, hope you enjoy!

Prompt: Tempest coming in once again with the fish. How about a scuba diver yn with a houseboat? Fish boys trying chocolate for the first time with yn? Maybe catching special fish for them?

Word Count: 2498

Read here if you prefer ao3!

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The wind sweeps up your hair through the open window, making you clutch onto your hat with your free hand. You glance back down to your map, making sure you're at the right coordinates. You swore this was the right spot. If it's not, you'll be a little more than stressed about it. Though, you're sure that if it came down to it, they'd find you before you'd find them again. 

Still, you'd only been planning on a brief trip back to land, just to refuel, stock up on food, and so on. And get your mail. Which there was lots of. Much more than you'd have thought. Though, it'd been a month or so, and with Valentine's day around the corner, you should have expected it. All your family and friends had sent their gifts early, like to make sure you'd receive them in time. 

One of the initial cons to living out on your little houseboat was the lack of proper communication between you and the outside world, but you'd made it work for the most part. Besides, at this point you don't think you could go back to a normal day job, pencil pushing at a desk all day. No thanks. 

Being out on the open ocean, documenting the sea life you came across up close and reporting back your first hand accounts, you'd take that any day. The crisp sea air, the sparkling waters all around you, the shining stars at night, it was perfect. 

A loud thump on the other end of the boat resounds throughout, just slightly rocking you. 

There was also the added fact of the matter that if you returned to land again, two certain someone's would be a little more than displeased about it. 

It had been an accident, coming across the two mers during your travels. You didn't even know they were real, much less that they could be giant sea creatures. All hiding down below the surface of that vast expanse. 

Why these two had decided to befriend you as opposed to making you a light snack, you still weren't sure yourself. Rather, after the initial shock on both sides, they'd seemingly grown rather fond of you, as you had them. Exchanging stories and laughter and the likes.

Both were rather large fans of affection and the likes, fighting over head scratches and forehead kisses. They loved to bring you things, as well, you'd noticed. Initially lots and lots of fish, though once you explained you had your own food they switched to things like shells or random human things that had sunk below. But also more fish—alive this time—for your research. 

You'd documented this in your own private research, especially their reactions to your reactions to the gifts. They always seemed to be seeking approval for some reason, and you were always sure to give it, but they seemed to be looking for something, more. You just weren't sure yet as to what. 

Another thump pulls you out of your thoughts. You grin to yourself, switching your controls to off so that you're now simply drifting along, and hurry outside. 

At first you don't see any sign of either of them. But then there's another thump, a little larger. This time you wobble on your feet and scowling as you scan around. Off to your left you see the edge of a yellow fin just barely peeking above the railing's edge. Another knock, and you hear snickering. 

You huff, but play along. "Well, I wonder what in the world that knocking could be. I sure hope I haven't run along a reef."

"Do it again, again!" You hear a not-so hushed whisper from the yellow fin's direction. 

Again, the boat rocks. You're not impressed. 

You sigh, turning as if to head back inside. "I guess I have no choice but to turn back then. What a shame, I was so excited to see the boys too." 

You stomp as if to head back to the controls and wait, listening. 

"They're, they're leaving!" Panic now. 

Another voice, harsher in its whispering. "It's a trick! They would never."

You hear an argument begin to form and you make your way to the railing, peeking over with a smug smirk. 

"You know, if you're going to pull a prank, maybe speaking in a language I can understand isn't your best idea. And also hiding a bit better would help too."

Both the mers in the water whip to look at you. 

"Told you." The blue and white one grumbles, though he appears undeniably relieved.

The sunny one ignores him, instead jumping up to grab the railing to meet you eye to eye. It forces you to step back to avoid getting headbutt by his much larger face. Water splashes all around him, and the resulting swells rock your boat, Sun oblivious as ever to his own strength and size. 

"Sunbeam! You're finally back!" He chirps, causing you to laugh. He sets his elbows on the railing, looking at you expectantly. 

You shake your head and reach out to give him scratches and such. You swear you think you hear him begin to purr as you stand on your tiptoes to kiss his forehead. "And you're already begging for attention, color me surprised."

Moon makes room for himself beside the other mer. "To be fair, it's been several days."

"Don't act like you didn't follow me as far as you could." You scoff, switching to give the lunar mer pets now, much to Sun's displeasure. "Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

Moon tsks, but revels in the attention just as much. "You certainly acted like it."

"Oh, did someone have to find food for himself for once?" You coo, planting a kiss to his cheek as he grumbles. 

Sun whines, either from lack of attention or being called out, hard to say. "It was terrible, Sunshine! Just the worst."

"Well you're both still alive and well, so I think you fended for yourselves just fine." 

Their shared grins all but confirm such, and you sigh as you step back again. "You're lucky I like you both so well, otherwise I wouldn't be sharing the candy I got while I was gone."

They watch as you enter the nearest door, snatching up your Valentine's gifts and coming back out to the deck to sit and open them. 

"Candy? Nothing like that sharp stuff from last time, right?" Sun scrunches his features. 

You chuckle. "No, no pop rocks this time,"—You hold up a heart shaped-box—"Chocolate! I think it's fish-safe." You examine the ingredients list, muttering more to yourself. "At least I think so."

You open the package and pop a chocolate into your mouth, savoring it. "Man, I love Valentine's day. Here, go long." You pick out a piece and raise your arm. Sun checks the memo, and mouth wide, you toss the chocolate his way. His jaw opens and snaps shut in an instant, and as he chews the—relatively small piece in comparison to himself—his eyes widen. 

"Good right?" You ask, doing the same for Moon. 

Sun nods rapidly, with Moon humming in agreement. 

You continue to indulge and share, opening your letters and valentine's cards. 

"Why are all your letters red and pink?" Moon asks, features quizzical. 

You snap your fingers. "Shoot! I didn't explain what Valentine's is, did I?"

Both mers shake their heads. 

You briefly give a rundown on the holiday, the traditions, and so on. They listen intently as you explain, soaking up all the information they could, as usual. 

"So when someone gives things like chocolate, cards, and so on, that means they're saying they love the recipient, right?" Sun questions slowly, uncertain. 

You nod, tossing another candy his way and eating a piece of your own. "Pretty much!" 

At this both mers turn to each other, voices hushed as they speak in that tongue you've not even begun to try and decipher. They seem rather excited about whatever it is they're talking about though. 

You're about to inquire as to what they're discussing when Sun suddenly disappears under the water, leaving you with just Moon. 

"Oh, leaving already?" You're surprised, you'd have thought they'd hang around longer since you'd been gone. 

Moon chuckles, there's an atypical lightness to it. "Not quite. How would you feel about a swim, Sweetfin?"

"As long as it's not too cold." You say, standing up with a stretch. "Give me a few to put this all away and change."

"Take your time." He drawls. 

You head inside, put everything away, and get into your wetsuit. When you walk back out on deck, you're flabbergasted at the sight before you. 

In a—rather large—pile are an assortment of 'treasures' as the mers had insisted upon calling them. Dozens of shells, sea glass, and more was piled up on your deck

 Before you can say anything there's a splash and Sun emerges from the water with even more to add to the pile, beaming upon noticing you. 

You're bewildered. "What's all this?"

"You got us something, it was only fair that we return the favor! Though, we've been trying for some time now, but it's good to know that's how it works with humans! Not that it matters now, but still."

Your brows furrow. "...How what works with humans?"

"Courting of course! If we knew it was a mutual exchange of gifts we would have been more patient." Sun chuckles

It takes a moment, then it all clicks into place for you. That's what all the gifts had meant. They'd been, trying to—your face starts to burn. Partly from embarrassment, partly from your own foolishness for not realizing sooner. You're also, incredibly flattered. You'd had a bit of crush, but had brushed it off because it seemed improbable that they'd feel the same. 

You shake your head, nodding as you start putting on your diving gear. "Right. Makes sense. My um, apologies for not responding sooner." You notice then that Moon's missing. "What happened to Moon?"

"He's waiting down below, we have something we want to show you." 

You glance up, eyes narrow. "What's 'something'?"

Sun's smirk reveals nothing. Hand tracing the water as you hop up onto the railing. "Something you'll really like, that's all."

"Well now I'm a bit suspicious, but I guess I'll go along with it." You adjust your goggles and your mask.

Once you're situated, Sun offers his hand to gently lower you in the water, coming face to face with a snicker. "Good. You weren't going to have much a choice, Starshine."

You shoot him a glare, but allow him to lead you down into the depths. You swim across large reefs brimming with fish, around vents and past seagrass forests. It stops being familiar territory after a bit, the terrain becoming rockier, and semi barren. At a certain point, Sun looks back to you and points to your tank, then down. 

You give a thumbs up, and he nods. 

You end up at the entrance to a massive cave, and after a moment Moon appears from the cave mouth. He and Sun chitter back and forth to each other, then Moon takes your other hand and they both take you inside. Upon entering, it's initially pretty dark, save for the glow of their eyes and fins. But going deeper a glow starts to appear all around you, and the cave grows wider until it opens up wider. 

Looking up, you can see there's an air pocket in space above you. You're not too far below the surface, and the boys seem fine as they break the water, so you do the same. Peeking out above the water, you find a massive open space, filled with various trinkets and the likes. On the ceiling above you, various plants emit a soft glow, similar to the glow in the water around you. 

You swim over to the edge of the pool, and with a bit of help, hop up onto it.

With a bit of hesitation, you remove your mask and are—thankfully—pleasantly surprised to take in a bit of breathable air. 

"This is, beautiful..." You look all around you. "How'd you find this place?"

Moon snickers, getting partly out of the water to sit next to you. His arm pulls you into his side and you feel your face warm again. "It's our home. You've shared yours with us for so long, it's only right we share ours."

"S-share?"

"Only if you'd like. Whenever you'd like." Sun rests his head in your lap, grin sharp. "Though we're hoping that will be often."

You put a hand up to hide your face. All this because of some Valentine's chocolate. You're not opposed, but you do feel overwhelmed, and guilty for not catching on sooner. Not to mention having given nothing in return beside a few measly pieces of candy. 

"Is everything alright, Star?" Moon asks. 

You nod. "It's, great, trust me. I just feel awful that you've been working so hard to... impress me, and I've gotten you nothing in return." You put up a hand as they start to take up for you. "No, really. I gave you a couple of tiny bits of chocolate! I'm gonna make it up to you. I promise. Whatever you'd like, consider it done."

"It's not necessary." Moon scoffs.

You shake your head. "It is!"

You bicker back and forth, then Sun clears his throat, grabbing your attention. 

"Well, there is something you can do..." He trails off, then looks but looks up to you with puppy eyes. 

Immediately you know exactly what he's thinking. "Oh, you're serious aren't you? They're an endangered species!"

"You said borderline! Pretty please? I'll give you the prettiest pearl I can find!" Sun takes your hand, kissing your wrist then snuggling into it. It doesn't slip by you how Moon's hold on your waist tightens just a tinge. Neither does the slight grin that flashes across Sun's features for a moment as he continues his actions.

You shake your head at their antics. Honestly, how you didn't catch on sooner is beyond you. 

"This is supposed to be my gift to you, silly. I'm the one in debt here." You sigh, folding near immediately. "Fine. But only a handful, that's it. If you eat them all up, there won't be any left."

Sun cheers, and Moon chuckles. "It's appreciated, Sweetfin."

"Told you they'd give in eventually." Sun snickers and you gasp. 

Moon's laughter rumbles against you. "You were right, I shouldn't have doubted their adoration. Or the tenderness of their heart."

You scowl at the two of them, grumbling as they coo and fawn over you to make up for their deceit. In all reality, you don't mind too much, you feel it's justified considering they've been trying so long to make their feelings clear to you. 

And now, you'd make yours clear to them.

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Thank you @rosescarletful for the adorable little prompt! I had a lot of fun with the environments for this one, and making the fish very flirty and such hehe ^^

Tag list (if you would like added, simply say so!):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay

[gravid-transluna]

In the Name of Science

words: 7627

content: birth denial, clothing birth, mutual birth, fpreg

Co-written with the wonderful and endlessly imaginative @shhhsecretsideblog

First entry into the Spell-verse, a series of stories revolving around a town blanketed by a rapid pregnancy and birth spell.

The news already had coined a name for it. Go figure, Char thought, shaking her head at the display of pure pseudoscience on the screen before her.

“Yes, that’s right,” a reporter spoke. “Emergency services have taken a census and The Spell seems to have affected every person able to bear children in the town.”

“The Spell,” Char scoffed, shaking her head. “Call it a virus, a fluke of biology, whatever. Just don’t chalk it up to magic.”

Because if it was magic, that would mean her science would be ineffectual on the obvious life growing inside her belly, now looking full-term with a baby that she hadn’t been pregnant with this morning. It rippled, hanging low between the scientist’s thighs. She placed a palm on her stretched tummy. The evidence, she thought, speaks for itself.

“Shouting at the tele again Char?” Laura said as she waddled into their lab. Her long white coat hung open at her sides, her own newly formed bump making the coat too small to fit round her frame.

“Got you a coffee.” She passed the hot drink to her boss and went over to sit on the stool by her own workstation. It took a bit of navigating, still not used to this extra weight she now carried, but eventually she plumped herself on the high metal chair.

“I mean, they aren’t wrong calling it ‘The Spell.’ What’s happening here is unheard of. All these pregnancies are popping up very much like magic.” Laura rubbed the circumference of her large belly that now sat heavily atop her thighs. She could feel the baby moving inside, it was so strange. Pregnancy and birth was never something she thought she’d experience. She understood it, she knew all about the process, but it was something else entirely actually experiencing it. And going through it all within the space of a day was a bit of a rollercoaster.

They’d done scans and knew they were carrying human babies, it wasn’t anything supernatural or alien, but it was just the speed, it was unprecedented. The baby in her womb shifted and kicked her in the ribs “Oof!” She huffed. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this.” Laura commented to her boss.

Char nodded, smothering the instinct to cup her own belly as devoted her attention back to her work.

“Hopefully, you won’t have to. We’ll find a way to reverse the process without delivery and things will—“ she paused, startled by a twinge in her stomach muscles and the subsequent squirming of the baby inside her. She cleared her throat. “Things will return to normal and we can take the time to research this phenomenon thoroughly.”

Secretly, Char’s urgency stemmed from another reason—already she’d struggled to adapt to the feeling of her body so unrecognizably changed, the idea of a passenger inside her, her body growing and stretching to accommodate it without any of her say in it. Even the tiniest signs of motherhood she steadfastly resisted, trying not to waddle or hold her heavy mound, wearing her usual lab wear instead of anything more comfortable. Yet—

She knew this was nothing compared to birth. She also knew that they were on a strict time limit. Shaking her head, she dispelled these thoughts. ‘We don’t have to worry about that. All we have to worry about is finding a cure,’ she thought.

“You really think we can find a cure before these babies are born?” Laura asked hesitantly. She knew how her boss was handling this sudden change in their bodies, and it wasn’t very well. Not that she’d admit it. She disappeared quickly into the work when it first started happening to people and completely ignored the signs this morning that it was happening to them both as well.

“I’ve heard that some people are already starting to give birth… we might not have the time. Not before these ones are born anyway.” Laura patted her bump affectionately. She wasn’t fighting this as much as her boss. Yes it was a shock, but Laura was leaning into the experience, it was fascinating.

She noticed her belly start to twinge, felt similar to period pains. Laura shifted in her chair, trying to ease the uncomfortable feeling, her legs widening on the stool to fit her rounded stomach in between. “Have you had any twinges or cramps or anything?” Laura asked.

Char glanced at Laura, absorbing the gravity of her condition, the way her midsection protruded from her open lab coat and her discomfort that so mirrored Char’s own. “Nope,” she lied easily, convincing herself that it was the weight she was now carrying, that the pressure in her hips and the aching of her back was all because of the new load in her belly.

“Well, I’m not exactly hasty to get these babies out the old-fashioned way,” Char said.

A part of her shared sentiments with Laura, though. Call it a scientific curiosity, but the process of birth was quite a marvel. Another cramp seized her belly and she stiffened slightly, bearing it without note. Her own belly hung low, having dropped without her realizing, but Laura’s taut, overhanging swell was immediately apparent to her.

How about you?” She asked while peering into a microscope.

“I’m not sure… I’m feeling something… oof—” Laura took a sharp breath as the ache peaked before easing off again. “It’s probably just my body adjusting to the quick pregnancy. I’m not in a hurry to give birth myself.”

She didn’t want to say it but the rate at which their stomachs had swelled, Laura didn’t think they would have long before the pangs of labor hit. It was difficult to ascertain how “far along” they were, given the speed in the growth, but judging by the bumps alone Laura guessed her and Char were developing at the same rate.

“We better work fast then, before either of us goes into labor.” Or both of us, Laura thought to herself.

Char pressed her lips together at the reminder, and without knowing she palmed the underside of her swollen stomach, attempting to soothe the tightened muscles.

“Yes, right. Could you come over here and we can analyze these lab reports together. Bring the files from the corner bench, please.”

Her back ached, yet she was too restless to sit and besides, she always worked while standing. She’d be damned if she let this baby inside of her intrude on her routine.

“Sure thing.” Laura said to Char’s instruction. Holding her taut stomach, Laura slipped off the stool onto her feet and waddled over to the corner bench to pick up the files.

Standing seemed to have jolted her baby, feeling the weight sink lower into her hips as it kicked. A sudden sharp tightening slashed across her belly causing her to gasp and grab on to the table. “Mnngh!” She groaned as the muscles pulled and squeezed, its intensity surprising.

“Char… hooo… I think I might be having a con-contraction…” Laura panted through the pain, hips instinctively swaying beneath the white lab coat.

Char snapped her head up from the microscope to see Laura doubled over, clutching the table. With her back flat, her weighty belly seemed to strain toward the ground, dragged downward by gravity. Char watched as Laura swayed her hips in an almost hypnotic pattern, as though instinct had taken over. Her panting, even, seemed instinctual, the sounds of an imminent mother.

“Laura? Hey—“ Char struggled to walk without a waddle, across the room to Laura. She was stopped by a squeezing in her tummy that took her breath away, the entire surface hardening painfully. She dismissed it before it even ended. ‘Braxton Hicks,’ she thought. ‘No big deal. I have time…. Laura, I’m not so sure.’

She placed a palm on Laura’s lower back and she breathed and swayed. “You’re okay,” she said, her usual brisk tone softening. “Just breathe.”

“Hoooo-hoooo…..” Laura forced herself to take measured breaths, in and out, breathing through the sudden pain. Her head dipped and her eyes scrunched, the weight and pressure suddenly peaking before gradually fading away. Slowly the assistant straightened back up and faced her friend (?) and boss.

“Jeeze, that was… intense.” She breathed, rubbing the underside of her belly. “I wasn’t expecting that to come on so fast. Guess I’m in labor. I’ll start running a log of all my symptoms so we can add to our research.” She picked up the earlier requested files and handed them to her boss, noticing a slight glistening of sweat on Char’s forehead. “You still doing okay?”

Char nodded, appearing uncharacteristically distracted. She made an effort to straighten her back, feeling the clamping around her womb subside for now.

“Fine,” she said. Then, appreciative of Laura’s dedication to their studies, “Good work, Laura. If it gets to be too much for you, let me know. Until then, we’ll work around the clock and develop a cure before you progress too far.”

And, before I do as well, Char added to herself.

Noting Laura’s significantly widened stance and the way she stroked and circled her dropped belly, Char felt a twinge of apprehensiveness.

As they worked, fighting the clock, Char listened to Laura’s pained breaths become sharper. Eventually she began to vocalize, softly at first, closing her eyes and rocking her body back and forth, making slight grunts and moaning under her breath.

Char wasn’t in a much better state. Her contractions had grown into strong, regular surges and every time her belly seized up she could only focus on it and the baby inside it preparing to be born. Born, she thought. Not if I can help it. Her familiarity with the process and inevitability of birth did nothing to halt this line of thinking. Yet with each contraction she felt like nothing else existed but her swollen, contracting belly. She released a breath after a particularly brutal one. There was so much pressure. She felt it deep in her hips, wanting so badly to open herself up all the way.

Laura let out a pained groan herself, and Char glanced up.

“H-how are you, mm, holding up?” She asked the other laboring woman.

“As w-well as can be expected… hoooo…” Laura held her heavy belly with one hand, the other leant on her workstation as she swayed through the pain. “They are really picking up now Char, oof, the pressure is a lot.”

The lab assistant had abandoned her chair a while ago, finding the most comfortable position was to stand at her desk as it allowed her to follow her body’s rhythm and its instinct to move. Plus the baby was sinking way too low to be sitting down on that ridiculous high stool. She had spent entire days on that chair working before The Spell, but that idea seemed downright ludicrous to Laura now.

Their research seemed to be slow moving, and it wasn’t entirely down to the fact she was in labor, the science just wasn’t providing them with answers, still proving to be a mystery. She’d been keeping track of her contractions, which were getting dangerously closer together and time was running out.

Whilst the waves of pain coursing through her body every five minutes were consuming, Laura wasn’t oblivious to the fact her boss was also struggling. Perhaps it was because of her own labor she could recognise the signs; the way Char kept moving around the lab and never stayed still, her heavy breathing and occasional moan, and the way her hips would shift and bounce when she thought Laura wasn’t looking. Yup, her boss was almost certainly in labor too. But Laura knew better than to ask her outright.

“Are you feeling okay Char? You’ve been on your feet for quite a w-while now..”

Char tried to imagine sitting and found she couldn’t, with the baby dropped so low, the head pressing heavily on her cervix. She knew from the strain in Laura’s voice and her repeated movements around the room that she was feeling the same pressure and slowly increasing urgency. She wanted to moan, openly sway and rotate her hips against the excruciating pressure, to release instinctual grunts with her contractions like Laura. But, not yet. She couldn’t be in active labor.

“Just frustrated,” Char growled. “We’ve barely made progress and this current batch of tests has yielded no results whatsoever…. mmgh!” She winced, closing her mouth so as not to cry out as a contraction clamped her midsection.

“Also,” she added. “I might—urgh, be experiencing some Braxton Hicks.”

“Oh… braxton hicks… okay.” Laura acknowledged calmly, knowing full well there was nothing false about the pains plaguing Char. “Just try and b-breathe through them. They’ll soon pass. You can move around you know, follow your body’s instincts if you need to, I’m sure it would help with the, errr—false labor pains.”

They continued working in relative silence, except from the unusual noises Laura found herself making through the pains. She thought she heard her boss whimper, and asked “Is there anything I can do to h-help?”

Not that she was capable of doing much, the pains were so strong now she could barely do anything other than catch her breath between waves. Laura stayed close to her work bench, not daring to move too far for fear she’d crumble to the floor. Her bump hung heavy and low off her hips, her baby was pressing hard against her cervix clearly marking its exit. A particularly forceful contract had Laura folded over against the bench, forearms on the white surface, hips jutting back, and her head buried in the crook of her elbow. Her groans had turned more primal, the pressure building to the point she almost mooed like a cow. Something was slipping down, she could feel it. With a grunt Laura felt something give and the immediate dampness that followed trailing down her leg.

“Ummm… Char? Hoooo… I think my water broke.” Laura whimpered into her arm, not daring to move.

Char turned when she heard Laura’s animalistic groans and grunts, undeniably the noises of a woman deep in labor. She saw Laura standing wide-legged, a wet patch forming on her lab trousers and puddling the floor beneath her. Her cheeks were flushed with exertion, and Char knew she was feeling the same pressure against her widening cervix as herself, increasingly overcome with the sensation of the head moving into position, the instinctive need to open herself up for the baby getting ready to come out of her.

“Laura—! Hooo um, okay,” Char faltered, taking large waddling steps to Laura and cursing the weight in her pelvis and the unwieldiness of her belly. .Normally in control of the situation, she felt lost at the sight of Laura’s waters puddled on the floor. This was an uncontrollable variable. No matter how much they wanted to keep their babies in, once their bodies decided it was time there was little they could do. But Char wasn’t ready to give in yet.

“I’ll, mmgh, find you some towels,” she promised Laura.

In the hallway she suffered another contraction, and found herself vocalizing freely without Laura around, lowing insistently and arching her back. Without knowing, her knees bent slightly, beginning to sink into a squat. She realized what she was doing and tried to hold herself upright against the hallway wall, but by then the contraction was upon her and she felt a sudden burst of fluid from between her legs.

“Oh…. shit,” she murmured, panting hard.

When she returned with the towels, she met Laura’s gaze and knew that they were both feeling the urgency of birth. They were almost out of time.

The contraction had waned when Char left the room and Laura slowly righted herself and breathed quietly, taking stock of the situation, letting her body adjust and working with the new sensations. The baby was definitely on its way, there was no doubt about that. The breaking of her waters had helped ease the excruciating pressure which had been building, but Laura became more keenly aware of the shape of the baby in her womb without its cushioning.

Taking deep and steady breaths, Laura tried to calm her mind and body. It was during this almost meditative state that she heard the unmissable sound of a woman in deep labor from the corridor. She knew exactly who it was.

Char was a very methodical woman, set in her ways, but she was strong and determined which was a necessity in this field of work. Laura respected her immensely. But it was no surprise to the assistant that her boss was fighting this and seemingly was fighting it to the very end. At some point Char would admit she was in labor, she would have to if she was going to birth her baby. Laura just hoped she would be able to help Char through it when the time comes, and not be consumed by her own birth.

When Char came back she was flushed and sweaty, but gritted a smile as she passed Laura a towel. Laura noticed her boss kept one for herself… strange.

Laura threw the towel on the floor and used her foot to wipe the liquid that was now puddled at her feet. Her trousers were wet but she didn’t want to take them off, she might have known Char for years but wasn’t quite ready to be walking around half naked in front of her boss.

“This baby is definitely coming, I can feel its head right down in my pelvis.” Laura announced, cupping the underside of her large swell almost trying to hold it up. “How are you holding up Char through your… practice contractions?”

Even without her announcing it, Char could tell how close Laura was to birthing her baby, her stance and dropped belly unmistakable as signs of her imminent birth. Laura, she knew, was dependable, and though Char would rarely admit it, she relied on Laura and her stability and her easier personality tended to balance Char’s own stubbornness. Her patience was beginning to wear Char down, and she almost admitted then. The head was huge against her dilated cervix, and she could feel it oriented, ready to descend. Everything was moving painfully downwards. She could no longer even pinch her knees together, so wide was her gait. It felt as if the baby would drop out of her if she spread too wide.

“I-I think I’m, I’m in—“ Char was cut off by another contraction, doubling over with an urgent grunt, so unlike her normally composed and cool attitude. “Ohhhh,” she moaned, closing her eyes. She gritted her teeth, eyes squeezed shut as the contraction began to peak and she clutched blindly at her rigid, taut belly.

“Oh Char…” Laura said, waddling over to her boss, keeping one hand on a bench for support. “I think you’re in labor, hun.”

Char was completely doubled over, clutching her large and heavy belly, and grunting wildly. There was no way she could keep denying her situation now surely. Laura put a hand on Char’s back and rubbed up and down her spine in support. “It’s okay, just breathe through the contraction. Slowly, don’t panic, in and o-outttt…”

Laura was cut off by a contraction of her own, and without her waters it was aggressive and forceful. She immediately spun around, grabbing the nearest bench, and groaned deeply as she fell into a slight squat. The baby was slamming against her cervix, squeezing its way into her birth canal, and Laura had no choice but to push with the force of the contraction.

She tried not to panic, to stay calm, but the head filling her canal was almost making her nauseous. She wanted to tell Char but couldn’t speak, not that her boss could do anything as she was dealing with a contraction of her own right now. The only option left was to ride the wave, and follow her instincts.

Over the din of her own uncontrollable noises Char could hear Laura’s straining groans as she bore down fiercely, primal with the urgency of a birthing mother. Char tried to change her posture but the feeling of the baby descending, pressing down forcefully against her cervix was too much for her to bear standing, and she clasped her hands on her thighs as she squatted, desperate for relief. The contraction peaked, and though she tried to control her breathing, sucking in air at first, by the ends of her breaths she found herself grunting slightly. She gave a gasp, realizing that she was pushing. No! No, no! She thought desperately. You’re a scientist. This is your lab, and you have control. Try as she might, it was impossible to assert control over her laboring body. Her baby was coming, and she was pushing. Still, she tried to resist the urge to push, panting and blowing as the pressure grew and her back flared with pain.

Laura’s contraction seemed to subside a little before Char’s, and Char saw her belly visibly heave as her uterine muscles relaxed. She let out a grunt as the contraction released her. They made eye contact as Char’s contraction began to fade as well. Char shifted her gaze.

“We…. w-we,” she panted, trying to regain her breath. “We have to find this cure. Right now.”

“Char…. Even if we do find a c-cure… what do you t-think is going to happen?” Laura said sternly as she heaved herself back to standing. “These babies,” she patted her bump and also Char’s for effect, “are coming and no cure is going to make them disappear.”

Laura had seen the way Char literally squatted to the ground and pushed, and her clothes were also damp on her bottom half. “I’m saying this as both your friend and colleague, you are in labor just as much as I, and we should prepare for their arrival.”

Laura waddled awkwardly, bowlegged, back to her desk and grabbed a drink of water. Still panting after the latest contraction, she picked up a pen and carried on making notes. “I’ll help you as much as I can, noting everything down about this rapid pregnancy, tracking my symptoms and experience, but we’re going to be giving birth soon. Both of us.”

Char glared weakly as Laura patted her belly. She’d known Laura to be one of her only lab partners to actually stand up to her or challenge her, but even then she was firmly gentle. This was no different except of course so steeped in labor herself Laura had a bit more edge to her, biting just a little. She knew how Laura was feeling. Their babies were so low, pushing heavily into their canals and forcing their bodies to deliver, and she wanted nothing more to stop what she was doing right now, squat down, and let it come. Magic or science, Char and Laura were experiencing their most natural, primal instincts.

But—she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. No, this was HER body. An intruding passenger wouldn’t change that, even as it inched its way through her birth canal and demanded she work hard and concentrate on nothing but pushing it out. Char made a laborious effort to straighten somewhat, though her stance wasn’t much narrower than Laura’s own bowlegged waddle.

“Not, urgh, yet,” Char said. “I’m not having this baby. Mmm…. hoo, I’m grateful to you, Laura, for holding it together for this long. But you n-need to deliver. Please, don’t burden yourself. I’ll finish this cure on my—hmnh, hm. My own.”

She painstakingly toddled to her research table, lifting the hefty weight of her belly as though it would keep the baby from dropping any further.

“Okay, do whatever you wanna do Char.” Laura resigned herself to losing this argument. Her boss was determined but this was next level, bordering on complete denial. Well if Char was feeling even half the sensations Laura was, she’d succumb to this birth soon enough.

Laura needed to prepare for the imminent birth, her recent pushing was a sure sign the baby was close. Slowly, and whilst always holding on to something, the assistant rummaged through the drawers and cupboards in the lab. “Do we have anything we could use for clamps to cut the cord?” She asked aloud, not really expecting an answer from her disgruntled colleague. “Ah, this could work.”

She collected the equipment she’d need to clamp and cut the chord on her desk, and moved the towel on the floor with her feet again mopping up the new liquid that she’d trailed across the floor, not realizing she was still leaking. “I’m gonna go get some more towels.” Laura again spoke aloud but knew her boss had disappeared into her own world.

Laura barely made it to the doorway when another contraction struck, and damn they were close together. Her fingers gripped the wooden frame as her body sank downwards again, the pressure building and building between her legs. “Mnnnghhhhhhhh!!!” Laura grunted, muscles contracting and squeezing the large head further through the birth canal, to the point she could feel herself start to open slightly. “Nghhhhhhh the head…. I can feel it…” Laura mewled as she squatted.

Char listened to Laura’s preparations in the background, doing her best to tune out both Laura’s words and the feeling of a massive head lodged in her birth canal, stretching her from within. Her legs trembled, nearly buckled even without a contraction. She resented herself for pushing but knew from her last contraction that she wouldn’t be able to help from bearing down again. The urge to push, the pressure, it was blurring her vision, and her head pounded dizzyingly. A mantra repeated in her head: ‘Hold it in. Just hold it in a little longer.’ Her stomach felt like a hard stone weighing on her middle even without a contraction. She tried to focus, pulling herself into a chemical analysis of her own birthing fluids she’d swabbed from the towel.

Suddenly, she heard Laura’s loud grunting and her attention was drawn to the doorway to see her assistant bent and squatted, pushing hard into her trousers. She felt a tug of concern.

“Laura? Hun, you okay—?”

The head, she thought. Oh god, she’s still wearing her work trousers.

Before she could even take a single step towards Laura, she felt another contraction grip her. “Oooof,” she grunted deeply. Her knees began to give out and she was forced into a squat even as she tried to remain standing. Gripping the table for dear life, she groaned and growled. Don’t push, she thought. Don’t—

“Ohhhh.” The head shifted down. Her powerful internal muscles shoved it through. “OH—I’m—I-I’m pushinggggg, mmmmgh!”

Laura was consumed by the sensations thrumming through her entire body, it was as if something primal was happening to her - new and unfamiliar, completely out of her control, and yet her body seemed to know what to do. Her knees widened and she sunk deeper into the squat, opening her hips as much as she could. Leaning into the contraction, using it, Laura pushed the heavy weight down. It felt… productive. She knew it was what she should be doing.

The location wasn’t ideal, and she hoped she still had time to collect more towels and set up a more comfortable birthing area. But whilst the contraction raged, Laura submitted to it, letting it work her baby down, slipping further and further towards its exit.

Somewhere in the distance she heard her name being called. After a long push Laura gulped a breath and turned her head to see Char squatting at her desk and crying out that she was pushing. She would laugh if her body hadn’t forced her into another push.

They needed to get set up and quick, Char looked like she was suffering just as much as Laura was. When the contraction waned just a bit, Laura stopped pushing and somehow managed to haul her body back to standing. Char looked okay, well as she could given the situation, riding out a contraction and holding on to the sturdy frame of her workbench.

“I’m getting more towels, hang on Char!” Laura shouted, hoping her boss would hear over the groans Char was making.

Waddling ever so slowly, the head sitting right behind her lips, Laura went off to the cupboard to find more towels. They’d soon need them.

Another contraction struck mere minutes after the last while Laura was in the cupboard but she was not as successful this time in staying on her feet. The force of the contracting muscles and slashing pain splitting her open brought her to her knees. She clung on to the shelf in front of her, her heavy belly squished between widened thighs, and she pushed hard wailing with the effort. The head was peaking through, pushing apart her folds in her underwear. But her body was driving this journey, Laura was just the passenger. After a solid minute the contraction let up and when she released the push with a gasp, the baby slipped back into the birth canal. With a trembling hand she felt the fabric between her legs, she was definitely bulging, but the head wasn’t crowning just yet. She breathed deeply, gathering her strength before getting back on her feet. She needed to get back with the extra towels, not just so she could birth her baby there but so she could help Char. She’d need a friend and the support right now, and so could Laura.

As Laura submitted, pushing freely and loudly as though nothing else mattered in the world except getting her baby out and getting it out now, Char resisted her baby’s inevitable birth. Panicked, she gulped in a breath, trying to ease up on her furious pushing as she felt the head filling her opening thoroughly. It was beginning to bulge her, though her lips remained shut. The pressure and incredible sensation of the head sitting low at her opening, almost ready to exit, was almost too much to bear. She mooed deeply, from the back of her throat. Her belly tightened even harder than before, squeezing her like a vice and she couldn’t help but push again. The baby strained against her opening, and she could feel her most delicate area distending obscenely.

“Oh god!” She cried, throwing her head back as her thighs spread and she pushed again and again uncontrollably. The urge was undeniable. She was subject to her body and right now, it was telling her to birth her baby. Here, now, into her trousers. She felt helpless. Out of control.

“It’s coming,” she moaned. “Ohhh, it’s coming!” She knew this deeply, intuitively, with an age-old maternal instinct. She was ready to birth her baby. But she felt alone and vulnerable.

“Laura,” she gasped, couldn’t say much more than that. “Laura, oh god, it’s coming and I’m pushing! I need to hold it in! Just a little longer!”

She could hear Char’s wailing from the corridor, becoming fast apparent the lead technician was losing her fight against the inevitable. With one arm carrying a load of towels, the other hand pressed against the wall as she waddled heavily back to the office. On walking into the room she saw her friend and colleague in a deep squat, white-knuckling the work bench, chin to chest and pushing. Loudly.

“Oh Char, it’s okay hun.” Laura shut the door behind her and dropped the towels beside her friend. “You have to breathe as well as push darling.” She said as she staggered to her own workbench and grabbed the medical supplies she’d collected. With the baby playing peek-a-boo into her underwear, Laura knew their time was almost up.

Cumbersomely, Laura got down to her knees beside her boss, putting the clamps and scissors on the pile of towels. “Shhhhh it’s okay Char, don’t fight it. Use that contraction and push with the pain.” Laura rubbed a hand up and down Char’s back, trying her best to support and encourage through this.

Unfortunately with their labors progressing in tandem, Laura’s role as carer was snatched away when the next contraction tore its way across her midsection. Instinctively, without intending to, her body was pushing with the pain and she could feel the baby start to leak through again and stretch apart her lips. She went to all fours and rocked, sinking backwards towards her heels whenever she had to bear down.

“Mnnnnghhhhhhh! Come on baby….” She groaned before gasping another breath and pushing hard again. She didn’t care that she was still in her work clothes, or that she was on the floor of a laboratory that was covered with two lots of amniotic fluid, she was simply following her instincts and soon the baby stopped slipping back in and stayed, keeping her lips in a perfect oval shape.

“Ohhhh god… I think it’s starting to c-crownnnn….” The assistant managed to huff when the contraction eventually dulled.

Char’s belly refused to fully relax at this point, now constantly flexing with forceful surging contractions, but there were brief moments of respite where she could pause in her pushing and some awareness returned to her. Laura, she realized, was beginning to tent her pants with pushing, on all fours with her back arched and her hips shoved forward, trying to make as much room for the large crowning head as possible. She was pushing the head into her clothes, Char realized, bulging them ridiculously, and between her spread thighs more fluids dripped and leaked. At the same time she processed this she realized that her own clothes had never been discarded, but she made no effort to remove them in her precious few moments before her body would force her baby further out of her. Instead she clung onto the naive hope that she’d miraculously stumble upon a cure while crowning into her pants, feeling the head beginning to press up against her underwear and part her lips slightly. Laura, she could tell, had offered less resistance to her body and had made more progress in her pushing, the head sitting permanently, she calculated from the bulge in Laura’s pants, at around a half-crown or more.

“Hey,” she croaked hoarsely, barely able to manage anything but grunts with her clenching belly. “You—you need to get your pants down, hun. Head’s coming out.”

Painstakingly, she began to squat down, moaning as the head was pressed back slightly into her sensitive lips by the tension of her underwear. It felt so low, so full, she needed to open up, she needed to push, relieve the immense pressure, yet her friend, yes friend, not just assistant, needed her. As she squatted low, she hooked her fingers around Laura’s waistline.

“I need, urgh, I need you to get your legs together. Mmmm, we gotta get your pants off, ‘kay?”

She was surprised to see Char moving in her peripheral vision, but Laura could pay no mind, for this baby wanted out and it wanted out now.

“Grhhhhh!!! It’s coming out… mnghh!” Laura cried into the next push, bearing down and feeling the head stretch her wider and wider. Her hips were so full, her pelvis felt like it could snap, the pressure of this baby’s head - this large and heavy mass - *needed* to come out.

Char’s attempt to remove her trousers was fruitless, though the black fabric was stretchy and comfortable with the expanding of her stomach, it was not elasticated enough to be pulled over the wide angle of her legs. The baby sat so low, right at her entrance, stretching her entrance wide with the emerging crown. There was no way in hell she would be able to put her legs closer together.

Instead, she widened them further. “Hmngh! Can’t… baby… coming…I have to pushhhh-mnghhhh!” Laura’s face sunk towards the floor, dropping to her elbows and opening up her hips to the skies. It was coming out, she could feel it sliding slowly out of her into her stretchy clothing. All she could do was push…. Pant and push again.

Char watched in utter fascination as Laura pushed with total abandonment, entirely consumed with the baby coming out of her, every last thought focused on the overwhelming, intense, undeniable urge to push. The bulge in Laura’s pants grew, stretched her thinly and Char could scarcely believe that such a huge head could come from her, pass through such a narrow opening with so much force. She removed her fingers from Laura’s waistline, realizing the impossibility of such a task at this stage in Laura’s labor. She was pushing it out into her pants, and there was nothing Char could do about that except cup the growing bulge as it emerged from Laura’s opening into the straining fabric.

It was terrifying, watching Laura push without regard for anything else. As she felt a powerful contraction wrack her own reddened, exhausted belly, she knew there was no stopping this. She was giving birth and was about to push a baby out into her pants exactly as Laura was doing now. She growled fiercely, deep in her squat—the perfect position. Her knees jackknifed and she opened her hips as wide as they could go. Against her opening the fabric of her underwear arched with the coming head as she bore down immensely. Her face turned bright red with her hardest push yet.

“Oh GODDDD!” She bellowed. “It’s COMING, I’m pushing it OOUUUTTTT!”

Her lips parted, wider and wider, trembling and convulsing around the head as it burned and stretched her. She jerked, trying to escape the ring of fire and yet she couldn’t stop pushing for a minute. She was in the final stages now, and the only way the burn would stop was when she had pushed her baby into the world. Instinct took over completely. This was what her body needed her to do. This was what SHE needed to do.

Even though they were consumed with their own births, Laura found comfort that at least they were together through this. Each laboring woman was not alone.

But the strength required to birth these babies, who didn’t even exist 24 hours ago, would be down to the mother. Gasping for air Laura pushed again with everything she had, through the pressure and pain and the burning ring of fire that had her mouth open in a silent scream. The baby’s head had to be almost out by now, surely!?

Despite being beside each other Char’s bellowing voice seemed so far away to Laura. Nothing else registered beside the baby being born into her pants. She growled with another push and suddenly yelped when the head slipped fully out.

“Oh my god oh my god…” Laura muttered over and over and pushed herself back up on her knees. She scrambled at the waistband of her elasticated trousers and pulled them down to her knees along with her underwear. Her baby, she had to get to her baby, the maternal instinct cried in her head. With a trembling hand she felt the newly born baby’s head that was now wedged between her thighs. “Hi…. baby… oh my gosh you’ve got hair!” Laura was in shock, but also in awe of what her body had just done.

It was only after the head was born that Laura properly heard the cries of her friend. “Char…” she muttered and saw the other woman squatting and huffing, red-faced, chin to chest, with an obscene bulge protruding from her clothes between her wide legs.

“Oh my god Char! Your baby is coming out!”

Had Char any piece of mind she might have answered with her customary sarcasm: oh really? I wouldn’t have guessed. Instead, the only sound that emerged from her mouth was a long lowing wail that only deepened and became more guttural as the head filled her bottom so thoroughly, and it felt as though her pelvis was creaking open to allow the massive head through. She opened slowly, barely pausing to take a breath as she bore down without repose. Dimly, she was aware of Laura’s own baby dangling between her thighs, having pushed the huge head out, and with renewed efforts Char grunted the head further and further out. Her lips tautened and thinned, red with the stretch. The head reached a full crown and for a moment Char pushed and it didn’t move, solid mass wedged tightly in her opening. She gasped, scared for a moment that it was too big, that there was no way she could push something of this size out of her body.

Then she heard Laura cooing to the head between her legs, and something stirred within her. She realized that the dread she’d been facing was being replaced with something like motherhood, her body responding naturally, automatically, to Laura’s awe and wonder. Char realized that she wanted to meet this thing she had carried inside her for a mere twenty-four hours.

“C’mon BABYYYYY!” She shouted, bearing down furiously. Her lips slipped around the head, and then—with a splash of fluids and a grunt of relief, Char freed the head into her pants.

Laura watched in fascination as Char grunted the head further and further into her clothing, it was huge. Char had been fighting this throughout the entire pregnancy and in that moment Laura understood why some women balked so much away from birth. It was hard work. But then she saw a change in her friend, the way her eyebrows furrowed with determination, the slight readjustment of her hips as she took a breath; she was no longer fighting against her body and was readying herself to meet her child.

“You can do it Char, push!” Laura called as Char bore down. She wished she could move to support her friend physically but she was still mid-way through her own rapid birth to risk moving.

Tears begun to well in her eyes at the thought of their babies, the exhaustion of labor and the stress of the last 24 hours hammering her emotions.

By the time Char had birthed the head of her baby into her pants Laura was already feeling the pangs of the next contraction and the baby’s head turned slightly in the palm of her hand. “Oohhhhh… mhhh okay okay… you ready little one?” She panted, pulling in air through her nose, widening her legs apart to steady her balance and preparing herself to push again. Both hands were between her legs when the contraction really got going and all too soon she was pushing once more and felt the shoulders stretch apart her already sore lips.

With trembling fingers, Char reached down between her legs, feeling the hard slick roundness of the head she’d just pushed out between her legs. She gasped. The aftershocks of her contraction clutched at her belly.

“Oh… oh, my—that’s a baby. I just gave birth.”

The evidence was conclusive. But she could scarcely believe that she’d pushed an entire baby through her birth canal and out into her pants. The experience she’d just been through, the effort, the haze of contractions and the hard pushes as she focused on nothing but expelling her baby, and the intense sensations throughout her body. It was all unbelievable. Inching down the waistband of her trousers, Char struggled them to her shins and sank to her knees. She panted in disbelief, feeling instinctually that this was *right,* that this was what she was meant to be doing. Her identity had irreconcilably changed to that of a mother and as she caressed the head between her legs, she felt a rush of contentment. Char was a scientist, an expert in her field, but now it all paled in comparison.

She glanced up at Laura, seeing her shock and awe mirrored in her eyes as she lifted her baby from between her legs and rested it against her chest. Laura smiled exhaustedly at her.

Char began to pant as another contraction took hold.

“Ooh—“ she exclaimed. “You’re ready…. c’mon, you’re ready to be—UGH! BORN!”

Her baby slipped between her lips with a spray of fluids and immediately she sank to the floor, sighing in immense relief.

Laura fell silent with her final pushes, holding her breath as she bore down, the head filling her palm as the shoulders squeezed their way through. She gasped another breath and pushed with everything she had, this was it, she could feel it. Come on baby…

Once the shoulders were freed Laura wasn’t expecting the speed of which the baby slipped out and the hush of fluid that came with it. Catching the slippery newborn Laura gasped, relieved and shocked, and immediately brought the babe to her chest.

“Hey…. Oh my- hey baby.” She cooed, eyes welling with tears as she looked upon this little miracle that had grown in the last 24 hours. When the baby started to cry she instinctively rocked and hushed the infant “it’s okay… you’re okay.” She said, wiping the blood and fluid off the newborn's face.

Laura had barely caught her breath back when Char started pulling down her trousers and panted heavily, a baby’s head hanging between her open legs. A second later Char was mirroring Laura’s actions and pulling her own baby to her chest and sobbing with relief.

“You did it.” Laura said softly to her friend. “We did it. I can’t believe they’re real, we just had babies.”

The Spell might currently be a scientific mystery, but as the two women sat exhausted on the floor cradling their newborns, the research could wait. For now, the scientists were in awe of the new lives they’d just birthed.

[next-autopsy]

A/N: Well, hi there! This chapter is dedicated to @malarkgirlypop as a reward 💕

Based on the actors portrayal/hbo show and written with no disrespect to the real life veterans. Also all images found on Pinterest.

TW: none I think? swearing maybe?

Tags: @malarkgirlypop, @panzershrike-pretz

Made of Glass

Chapter twenty three: May I Have This Dance?

Living an ocean away from her family and home town wasn’t as difficult as Birdie thought it would be. She had already been away from them for over a year, she’d celebrated Christmas, the New Year of ‘43 and her twentieth birthday away from the people she had shared her entire life with. 

Moving to Aldbourne, England felt meager in comparison. 

Due to limited space, the women of the 506th 2nd battalion were made to share barracks with the men in their platoons. There were around twenty to thirty cots set up in each round barn-like building. There were also no specified women's showers or toilets, so escorts were somewhat needed again. 

When Easy company was made aware of the new sleeping arrangements, the men of 2nd platoon took it upon themselves to set Birdie up in the corner of the room, nearest to the door. Toye insisted he take the bed next to the woman, while Bill claimed the one opposite to her.   

The first night with her new roommates was the hardest.

Bed time came around and the men in her barracks began stripping off as they usually would. The woman averted her eyes, choosing to stare at the ceiling and study each mark and line. As she gazed upwards, Birdie realized she, too, would have to change her clothes in front of all the men. 

“You okay, Little Bird?” Bill spoke, noticing her fidgeting hands and the way she bit her lip, she most definitely had something on her mind. 

“Uhh…” Her eyesight flicked to the man addressing her, then when she saw his bare chest her vision went straight back up. “Should I- I mean…uh, D-Do I just change here…or…?” 

After that little encounter, Toye and Guarnere hung a couple of sheets up to section off a corner giving Birdie a smidge of privacy while she changed. 

When Birdie was finally ready to curl up in her new bed and sleep, the snoring started. Sleeping alongside the men was more difficult than she imagined. 

Bernadette wasn’t really a morning person but she usually functioned well enough. When she woke, the first morning in the men's barracks, Birdie felt like shit. The constant snoring kept her up and every time she was close to falling asleep, a particularly loud snort would wake her. 

“Good morning, Little Bird.” Luz chirped at her sleeping figure. Birdie groaned out as a reply, unable and unwilling to answer with words. He laughed at her and tried again to rouse the woman, but she only swatted a hand in his general direction and pulled the blanket over her head. 

“Come on, Birdie. You’ll miss breakfast.” George sign-songed, attempting to appeal to her.

“Fuck off.” She mumbled at him, adding a “Leave me ‘lone.” for good measure. Luz didn’t seem to get her message as he kept trying to wake her. At last, fed up with his persistence, she sat up, pushing the covers off of her and letting them fall into her lap. 

“Ah, there she is! You-”

“I am going… To. Kill. You.” Bernadette cut him off. She did not want to hear his voice this early after such a shocking night with little sleep. George just grinned at her threat and the glare stuck on her face.

“Well, someone’s not a morning-oof.” Birdie threw her pillow directly at him, successfully shutting him up. 

—------------------------

Being in England meant Birdie could now legally drink, with no repercussions from Lipton or Johnny. And there were more pubs here than she could count. Since she didn’t see the girls every day anymore, they all agreed to make an effort to meet at a previously chosen local pub every saturday night. 

This week's meet up was at the ‘King’s Head’ and Birdie was excited. All she wanted was to sip on some whiskey, maybe have a dance or two and chat with her girls. 

She was wearing her class A’s with the pencil skirt, stockings and heels. Birdie put on her signature ‘night out’ red lipstick and let her hair down in voluminous victory rolls. She shared a cab with Toye and Guarnere, who refused to let her pay the fare. 

When the trio arrived at the drinking establishment, she ran ahead and bought the first round to repay them. While the men complained at her sneaky little gesture, they didn't refuse the alcohol, finding an empty table and sitting to chug the first drink of the night. 

“Fancy seeing you here.” The unmistakable voice of Blythe Alderidge sounded from behind Birdie. She grinned into her drink before turning to face the woman.

“Oh, I see they let just anyone in nowadays.” Her joke was well received by the three women who stood with Blythe. They all smiled, exchanging hugs and pleasantries. 

“Lucy and Betty couldn’t make it.” Frankie informed, drink already in her hand. When did she have the time to order that? 

“Next time.” The ladies took over the table, catching each other up with the events of the week. They yapped and laughed for what might’ve been hours, until one brave British lad approached the group. 

“Good evenin’, ladies.” He puffed up his chest and spoke confidently, eyeing up Birdie specifically, “Might I steal a dance?” He was staring at her, arm reaching out to her as an invitation. It took Birdie a second to realize he was waiting for her answer. She was about to politely decline, before she could get the words out, Charlotte answered for her.

“Of course you can…” she gave her friend a shove, “right, Birdie?” Smiling sweetly while throwing Birdie to a wolf. Her jostling had pushed Bernadette towards the stranger and to balance herself she had grabbed onto his outstretched hand. He took that as her accepting his request for a dance and led her to the area designated for bogeying.

“Birdie? What a beautiful name.” The man spoke up, his accent made it hard for her to understand him as he talked so fast.

“Oh uh… thank you.” She needed another drink if she was going to have to put up with this small talk. He spun her once, bringing her closer when she twirled back to him. Birdie noticed his not so slick move and was not impressed. 

“What an accent… where are you from, love?” Her head tilted at the nickname.  

“Mississippi.” She paused, then remembered how conversations worked, “And, you? Are you from around here?”

“Me? Nah, I'm from London.” He told her before spinning her yet again. After that the conversation dulled down and Birdie began to feel uncomfortable. The man let his hand slide down the curve of her back ever so slightly, but Birdie still noticed. 

When the song concluded, the mystery man offered to buy her a drink. While that was exactly what she needed, she found herself trying to come up with an excuse.

“I should probably check in with my girls.” Birdie took a step away from him, praying he would get the message and that she wouldn’t have to elaborate. 

“Oh, okay, I'll come with you.” He stepped in her direction, smiling. Birdie's shoulders sagged,  she really didn’t want to be rude to this guy, he hadn’t done anything wrong, she just wasn’t feeling it and wanted to spend time with her friends. 

“That’s okay. You don't have to do that.” She was doing her best to shake him. She didn’t even know his name, did he seriously think this was going well?

“I want to-” The British man was interrupted by an American voice, one Birdie recognised.

“Take a hint. She’s not interested.” Liebgott stood nearby, smoke hanging out of his mouth. His posture was nonchalant, like he was trying too hard to look cool and it made Birdie giggle, which gained the attention of both men. One smirked at her and the other glared.  

“You what, mate?” The stranger straightened his stance and stepped towards Joe, who didn't move at all, completely unfazed.

“She’s obviously trying to get rid of you.” Lieb explained, shrugging his shoulders.

“Are you?” Birdie’s brief dance partner looked over his shoulder at her. 

“Well… I was trying to be polite.” She winced, she really was trying to spare his feelings but he was persistent. 

“See?” Joe smirked, inhaling his cigarette and exhaling into the man's face. This only seemed to piss him off, Birdie could see an upcoming altercation and positioned herself closer to the two men, in case she had to break something up. 

“Why don't you shut your mouth, stupid fuckin’ yank.” Both Birdie and Joe dropped their jaws, though Lieb covered his reaction. This guy had nerve. Bernadette was at her limit, she didn't appreciate him barging in on her precious time with her girlfriends, she hated the stupid small talk and he was a shitty dancer. And now, he was insulting her friend. That was enough.

“Excuse you?” Her pitch went up, “You don’t get to talk to him like that! Who the fuck do you think you are?” He had upset her and now she had the urge to fight him. Where was Frankie and her knife when she needed it?

“Whatever,” The Brit started to walk away, but very quietly (not quiet enough though) he muttered under his breath, “A whore like you ain’t worth it.” 

He didn’t take another step. It was only a second after he uttered the words and he was falling to the floor. Lieb had swung in record time, hitting the man with such force that he toppled to the ground. 

Bernadette moved closer to Joe, grasping onto his forearm firmly, letting him know that was enough. He had done his job of protecting her honour and now they could leave the poor guy on the floor. Joe seemed to silently understand this as he turned and the pair made their way away from whoever that guy was. 

“Thanks.” Birdie spoke once they sat down, “For hitting him.” 

“No problem. He shouldn’t of called you that.” Joe was shaking his head, disgusted with his gender. 

“It’s fine, I-“

“But it’s not.” His tone was angry but not at her. He was just angry, angry that she was about to say she was used to it. Joe had met a lot of women and, while he didn’t love the word, some of them would be classified as whores. But not Birdie. She was too kind, too funny, too pretty, too sweet, too stubborn, too intelligent to be considered a whore. She spent all day around men, living, eating, training with men and not once had he seen her flirt. 

“No it’s not.” She could tell his anger was stewing inside that brain of his, she took it upon herself to try to calm him,  “Not really, but that doesn’t change the fact that he said it. It’s no use letting some jerk like that ruin our night.”  

Liebgott let her words sink in. ‘Our night’ she had said. Our. Me and you. Us. 

“Wanna get out of here?” Joe spoke before he could stop himself. He just wanted to be alone with her, where no one could steal her away for a dance while he watched helplessly. He wanted to talk to her without having to compete for her attention. 

“Sure. Just let me tell the girls, okay?”

A/N: Hope y'all enjoyed x

~ Nex ~

Chapter twenty four

[hisdirtymutt]

02-16-24 Date 3

We spent Friday night and almost all of Saturday Day together. He's got the cutest puppy. Plus he's just so cute. So seeing them both together. Is oof. We had an amazing night Friday night. But all Saturday was pretty stressful. It's good to write about the good and the bad.

Friday night was the best anal of my life. He fucked my ass mercilessly like it was my pussy. And it was barely any pain. Omg his cock fits so perfectly in my ass. Like I was made to be his filthy mutt. And he woke up like every 3 hours to fuck me or make me suck his cock and it was hot. But I was really wiped and tired from all the play. But it was amazing.

Saturday started out stressful... We had gotten hot and heavy the night before and he had me go down on him and eat his ass. All amazing. But it was like a joint panic attack of us both being hella paranoid because my cold sore wasn't entirely gone. Like a red spot still. Even if mostly healed. And I don't wanna give him anything. We ended up taking a nice bath together to calm down. That was cute though. My Daddy is so fucking sexy and handsome and cute. Obviously biased. Fuck his body is sexy. He has a yummy cock. I love his tummy. And he has one of the cutest butts I've ever seen. Makes eating it so much better. 😈I hope we do foot worship soon.

The second thing was him giving me my first suppository. He wanted to turn me into his little stinker. And have more bathroom control power. No potty at Daddy's place. But it didn't set well with my stomach. Mainly because I kept trying to push and force it. But when I finally stopped it just happened so easily and naturally. But of course that was immediately when he put me in a new diaper. It's weird because I liked it. 😳🙈🤭 I want a redo. 😛

The third thing beyond the suppository not sitting well with my tummy. And the anxiety of the unknown of my first one is me having to call out. I did find it incredibly hot that since I was indecisive he chose for me. 🤭 He knew it was a limit I was okay with pushing and at least trying once. Now that I know what to expect there should be minimal or no anxiety with it. But anyways my tummy was hurting. I was dehydrated and dizzy and still had upset tummy. So I called out. Which won't happen again and he felt bad. And it wasn't ideal.

Fourth thing and the biggest thing was our first conflict sort of thing. And how we both handled it. But adhd brain wants to add that he peed on my clit in my diaper and made me cum twice and that was so hot. And last visit he peed in my diaper and had me wear it and that made me wet too. Anyways. Back to scheduled programming. Daddy ordered me to pee on his face. Well moreso not a force. And I froze up emotionally because I wasn't comfortable doing it but couldn't find the right words. And then I was gonna use the puppy pad. And I didn't know what I was doing. So it felt like he was disappointed in me and upset. It felt like he was kinda huffing off and angry after. By his body language. Even though he said was okay. So I thought he was upset and I upset him and he was upset about disappointment triggers too. It was a double land mine. I was emotionally shutting down a bit. He felt emotionally distant and almost cold. He wanted to get work done and not have an overnight anymore. But he was asking me what I wanted to do. And my headspace wasn't great. So we wasted a lot of time in conflict. Because I was in a bad headspace and wanted to go home because I thought staying would make it all worse. But because I was in a bad headspace due to the conflict and not wanting to end the night on a bad note I didn't feel okay to leave. It felt like a lose lose. If I went home my headspace wasn't great and had to deal with that alone. If I stayed then he would remain with extra stress over clean up and taking me home and not being able to be CG ish while he worked. Even though I was gonna nap or sleep and entertain myself. It was just a lot. It was very emotionally charged. We both could have done stuff different but importantly we got through it. We had time apart to process. And decided to keep moving. Even though my headspace was really hard to deal with for a while. I cried and reached out for emotional support and help. And I felt better.

I'm so excited for our journey. I love serving my Daddy.

[materialisnt]

turns out footnotes counted towards word cpunt, so autocaptions during office hours were wrong or i misread them, or theres some nuance to it, and ended up being abt 2k words over word limit. definitely should have double checked w prof in writing on that bc it wasnt in the rubric. they said theyll make an exception this time but still. oof.

they also need more time to explore the bibliography since a lot of it is unfamiliar. which is fair. they hadnt heard of edwina barvosa before and a huge bulk of our sources were from two transformative justice anthologies. not necessarily something likely to come up in a philosophy education (even if it should).

family member who peer reviewed it referred to it jokingly as a masters thesis proposal so like. definitely went a lil bit too hard for an intro to philosophy course. learning how to simplify and refine our arguments is probably going to be the biggest challenge outside of like. getting access to the classes we need in the first place.

v anxious for feedback lmao. weve got enough extra credit in this course that even if we got a 0 on this paper wed have an a in the class but like. just. oof. doing well here is important to us for so many reasons and i worked hard lmao.

ironically i think the scholarship essay i busted out this weekend had more traditional philosophical sources than this midterm, at least proportionally.

i wish this didnt feel so high stakes lmao. like this prof is working w their department and the humanities dean to make hybrid online/in person classes a possibility and has already shared some of our work w their colleagues who we need to like us in order to get access to the courses we need to get our degree.

[darklcy]

15 and 2 with armin

oof this one's gonna bite இ_இ but thank you for the request!! (this calls coming from inside the house and i mightve gotten emotional while writing this buuut i hope you all enjoy and maybe cry w me lol <3)

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ angst prompt list ˚ attack on titan masterlist ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

→ prompt : s/o storming out the house : "just fucking leave me alone."

→ pairing : armin arlert x reader | Attack on Titan

→ warnings : takes place in S4, swearing & yelling

→ word count : 1.2k

You didn't know where you went wrong.

What bump in the road you wreaked to lead to this demise. All sense of worth, love, and respect you harbored towards yourself filtered out the window the second he swatted you away as if you were a mere fly, not his lover he slept beside each night.

The painful gnawing bubbles in your stomach pushed the threat of bile as you stared at him with hot tears in your eyes, lips resting in a pout and body littered in trembles.

You were tired of this. Tired of all the yelling, all the damage, all the insults thrown your way. In the bottom of it all, you were just trying to show your love.

Some say it's dangerous to fall in love young. Others say it's dumb to be in love in the midst of a war. Your older relatives laughed when you mentioned your recent plans of moving in with Armin, stating it was far too early in your relationship for that. That couples' true colors reveal themselves upon living together too early in their affairs. While on the other side, your comrades uttered teasings under their breaths about you two living in a damned relationship, shadowed by his curse of limited life and threat of death.

You and Armin looked past the condescending jokes. Despite the war and tragedies, you were just happy to be able to wake up to each other at last. Having shared mutual feelings since the early years of military life, your relationship was ready to soar to the next intimate level of domestic life. Unfortunately for you two though, living a simple life as a soldier can only bring so much.

Armin tended to lash out whenever his stress tipped over. He knew he had to release it before that happened, that he was working on it with his therapist once a week. You tried to give him the benefit of the doubt in the beginning, but as it became more consistent, you wondered if you had any input to his complexity.

Were you one of the reasons for his overwhelming anger? Did he come to despise living with you? Had you not given him enough?

Self ridden reassurance can only take you so far. With Armin not giving you any, it was hard to put a smile on your face and claim you weren't the problem. Because there was no way Armin was, he was your beloved. Your partner. You loved him so much, you never wanted to think ill of him.

But maybe that was the problem.

Armin pulled and twisted at his blonde tresses in front of you, pacing violently around the kitchen. All you could do was watch and silently weep, wondering what monsters lured in his mind to take control of his actions and spill these lashings towards you.

"[First] I..." He took a deep breath. "Please, just-just go away.."

He was shutting you out again. When his blue eyes flitted to yours, you shook your head and bit your lip. He groaned and slammed his hand onto the nearest tabletop. You finally found the courage to speak up.

"Armin, please. I'm here, talk to me."

"No, you don't fucking get it! I...I-I can't deal with this. I can't deal with you right now."

A pang. You sniffled and swiped a hair behind your ear. His uneven breathing patterns were the only noise in the room as he grounded himself with the table beside him, both palms widespread on the wood.

"...I can't do this. I can't do this, [First] I need you to leave, please."

"Is it something I'm doing?"

Armin froze. You stared right back at him, brows pushed together as you studied him. He faintly shook his head.

"..No, hon this isn't about us at all. I'm just really, really overwhelmed right now."

"Yes, but am I putting in any input to that? Is our relationship a contribute to your stress..?"

Armin clenched his eyes shut and turned away from you. "[First] please!"

A sob left your mouth. "I'm just trying to help you. I love you, Armin, and I want to help-,"

"You really want to help?!" His eyes met yours again, wide and wild with thousands of emotions.

"Yes! That's what I've been trying to tell you!"

He moved to stand right in front of you, chests barely grazing each other and his heavy breaths puffing over your skin. The muscles under his brows twitched as he observed your tears and frantic pleas, before he huffed an exhale through his nostrils. For a split second you swore you detected shame in his ocean colored irises, but before you could look any further he parted his lips.

"....Then give me some time to think.. For now, just fucking leave me alone."

Another sharp pang, impaling your heart and shattering it into pieces. Without another glance your way, he stomped out the room and threw open the front door, not caring about the way it slammed back into the house. The sound echoed throughout the empty rooms, emphasizing the brutal reminder you were now the sole resident.

Your legs couldn't hold you up anymore. Crumbling to the ground, you wept harshly into your hands, crying out sobs and yells until your throat grew sore. You wondered where in the loving relationship you shared with Armin did it become so south, did it steer off the right path into a decent of insanity. You missed the warmth and security Armin used to give you. The whispers of sweet nothings he voiced inside your ear while holding you close.

A few years ago, when the two of you were still youthful, naive teenagers, Armin would've never imagined speaking to you the way he did mere seconds ago. He hated himself even more for it, hating the cold guilt and sobs it rung up. One of these days he'd make it up to you, that is, if you were still willing to love him after those harsh unforgiving words.

He can only hope the love you held for him was strong enough to fight off those monsters in his brain that reminded him everyday how it should've been Erwin instead of him. That told him how worthless he was, and how undeserving he was of your affections.

As much as he could Armin fended them off, but recently they'd been tipping him over the edge at every small inconvenience. All you did was speak to him and he was gone. What did that mean for your relationship..? He refused to entertain those intrusive images. The thought of you no longer being in his life like this frightened his every nerve. He cursed himself as a tear tickled his skin, promising himself to show you his apologies tonight when he returned.

When your hollowed out sobs finally came to an end, you sat up and stared at the closed door, silently wishing for him to come home. But as the echoes of his last words rang in your brain, you found yourself wishing for him to stay away for just a bit longer.

Some say it's dangerous to fall in love young. You used to mock that ideology, claiming it to be incorrect on all levels. But now, as you cleaned your face with a wet towel, you were beginning to believe it.

[aminiatureworld]

An Unexpected Rival

Characters: Childe, Scaramouche, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 3,556

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: When thinking about fighting for the affections of someone, one normally imagines great declarations of love and promises of loyalty. But sometimes that’s not it. Sometimes it’s simply living with a being that hates you more than anything.

In which the reader’s pet hates their s/o

Author’s Note: I did give the pets names because I felt I couldn’t really refer to them as “your pet” the whole time. I also am not a pet owner. Still I hope you enjoy! 

Going to try non bullet pointed for a bit. We’ll see how it goes!

Childe

Honestly you didn’t know what to do.

Here you were, standing in the middle of the living room of your apartment, trying desperately not to laugh at the sight of your dog sitting directly on the chest of your much beleaguered partner.

You hadn’t really considered the consequences of introducing Childe to Lacey. I mean, how badly could the interactions be between the man you were convinced was your soulmate and the nicest golden retriever that had ever existed? If there was going to be issues you’d reasoned it would be on Childe’s side. So when your partner lit up at the mention of your fluffy child, you’d assumed all would be well.

Evidently that was not the case. You knew that Lacey could be clingy on occasion, but she’d really been making an effort these past few weeks. Knocking your partner out of the way when you two walked through the door together, refusing to stop walking when you two met up at a park or on the street, refusing to answer to Childe’s attempts at affection. It was almost impressive, the lengths Lacey was willing to go to establish her position as Number One Childe Hater – especially impressive considered the well-attested competition, including but not limited to a Fatui Harbinger.

Now you sprung into action as best you could, bottling up the giggles that threatened to erupt at any moment.

“Childe!” You exclaimed, walking closer. Lacey still refused to stand up, but her tail thumped excitedly against the floor, and she let out a short whine of appreciation. Unfazed by this cry for praise you sighed. “Lacey! Get up! Honestly, you’re not being a very good testament to your intelligence right now.”

Nudging her slightly you sighed with relief as the golden retriever sprang up, attacking your hands and face with kisses as you dragged Childe up to a sitting position. Childe at least seemed unfazed by the sudden attack, letting out a mere “oof”, and smiling a slightly embarrassed smile.

“I’m really sorry about this Childe.” You said, hands still batting away Lacey’s frantic activity as she attempted to get you to focus on her.

“It’s alright. Just, wow she’s a heavier girl than I expected.”

“Hopefully no squished organs?”

“Archons no! It’ll take more than this girl to fell me, don’t you worry.” Childe attempted to give Lacey a pet, but the dog that had just before been laying all over him now scampered out of the way, instead pawing at your back.

“Lacey! Stop being so rude! Urgh, and here I was hoping that you two would be somewhat settled before I went on my trip.”

You sighed, letting your head drop into the palms of your hand, not wanting to think about what might happen during the week and a half that Childe would be required to take care of Lacey. Would she even let him in the apartment to feed her? What about walks and the like? Were you going to come home to all our warfare? Childe seemed to understand your quickly dropping mood, placing a hand on your shoulder and rubbing small circles with his thumb, even as Lacey whined and began pawing at his arm.

“I promise it’ll be alright my dear. We’ll manage while you’re gone and who knows? Maybe by the time you get back we’ll be thick as thieves, and then you’ll be the one getting sat on.”

“Who knows.” You let out a burst of laughter. But even as you two shared this moment of levity your mind continued to spin its threads, dreading the days to come and what you’d be presented with the day you got back.

 “Alright, what’re we going to do.”

Childe stood in the foyer, hands on his hip, irritation in his heart. Lacey seemed to be mimicking the gesture, chest puffed out proudly as she stared the Harbinger down. They must’ve been standing like that for at least ten minutes, Childe thought to himself, ten minutes of staring and nothing yet done. It was beginning to grate on him, and were it not for the fact that you’d have to pay for damages, he was quite tempted to vault over the nearby furniture, if only so he could get to the kitchen and have this miserable showdown be over.

He didn’t dislike Lacey, no Childe didn’t think he could truly dislike any dog if he tried. He used to dream of owning a wolf pup, of flopping around in the snow with his companion, running as fast as he could and still being chased down with a crash, before being bombarded by affectionate pawing and kisses. These memories seemed quite silly when faced with the reality of caring for a dog however, and now he wanted only to bang his head against the wall, and maybe pass out from the exertion.

“I get that you love your owner.” He spoke again, how long had he been talking to this dog? “But I don’t think this is the way to win their heart.”

Lacey said nothing, simply narrowing her eyes and letting out a slightly hiss. Still Childe continued on.

“And like it or not you are going to have to eat eventually. So I suggest if you’re going to misbehave, that you should at least do it on a day when I’m not your primary caretaker.”

When there was still no movement from Lacey Childe sighed. That evening when he returned to his own apartment it was with the unfortunate knowledge that golden retriever bites hurt a lot more than he’d expected them too.

 It was storming, and the city of Liyue had transformed from a glistening city to one of mud and rusted iron. Childe swore under his breath as he pulled his coat closer around him, desperately trying to keep as dry as possible. Who knew if he’d be able to make it to your bedroom and grab one of his spare shirts with Lacey acting like he was a burglar instead of well known acquaintance? The song and dance between the two of them was grating. Feeding your golden retriever being nearly impossible, not to mention the times when Childe half dragged Lacey through the most half assed of walks. Really how could such a gentle spirit turn so stubborn so quickly? Childe didn’t know, all he knew was that the sooner you came home the sooner he could stop worry about being nipped at the heels.

The sight that met Childe at the entrance to your apartment was jarring. Instead of the usual irritated dog Childe was met with utter silence, and a stillness that betrayed the fact that not only was Lacey not in the hall, but she was also avoiding the kitchen and the living room.

“Lacey?” Childe called out, getting no answer but the whipping of wind and the rumble of thunder. “I swear if you managed to run off – Lacey!”

Going further down the hall Childe finally heard the sound of muffled whimpering. Walking into your bedroom he spied Lacey under the bed, eyes filled not with disdain, but with anxiety.

“Lacey, why in Teyvat are you here?”

There was no reply, until suddenly another clap of thunder shook the walls. Lacey let out a yelp and crawled under the bed a little more, flattening her head against the floor, although there was not much room left in that department. Childe stared at this for a second letting the pieces fall into place. He just couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe that this was the same Lacey who so fearlessly guarded the apartment against his entrance every day.

This slight smugness was extinguished rather quickly though, instead replaced with a sense of pity, and the need to make this poor girl feel the least bit better.

“Hey, hey it’ll be alright.” Childe spoke softly. For a moment he left the room, but quickly he returned, towels and blankets in hand, praying that you wouldn’t mind that he messed up your closet a little bit.

“Let’s make a fort, shall we?”

Not waiting for any sort of acknowledgment Childe began to pile up the covers on your bed, making sure to lay down towels in case you were worried of shedding. At first Lacey did nothing much than scooch out enough to watch him, but within the next flash of lightning she was up and moving, diving under the makeshift fort and clambering around Childe, as if trying to find out if she could burrow through the Harbinger.

“I know, I know, it’s pretty scary out there, huh?” Childe ruffled Lacey’s head slightly. “But you’ll see, it’ll pass soon enough. And then we can go back to fighting, alright.”

Lacey let out a whine, but nevertheless began to settle down, lying down and once more resting her head on her paws.

“There’s a good girl.” Childe smiled softly. “You aren’t that bad you know. At least you aren’t that bad when you’re not trying to bite my leg off.”

Your surprise at the improvement in Childe-Lacey relations was somewhat immense when you returned. Though Childe refused to say what had managed to form such a bond between your disgruntled pet and him, only that he hoped you didn’t mind dog hair on your bed. Lacey, for her part, no longer tried to sit on your partner.

Even if she still pushed him out of the way when you came home.

 Scaramouche

Scaramouche could deal with a lot of things. He could deal with the fact that your parrot wouldn’t let the man within three feet of the parrot’s cage without attempting to bite his hands off. He could deal with the obnoxiously loud clicking whenever he got too close to you, and he could deal with fact that your parrot was fond of yelling random phrases at him in the most aggressive tone Scaramouche had ever heard. Scaramouche could deal with all of that. What he couldn’t deal with is what your parrot insisted on calling him, no matter how much time was spent saying: “Scaramouche. I am Scaramouche!”

“Electro boy? Really?”

“I’m sorry Scara,” you let out a giggle, “I didn’t know what your name was when I first saw you.”

Oh Scaramouche was sure of that, but did that really mean that Oliver had to call him solely by that title? It didn’t help that you must’ve referred to Scaramouche an awful lot as “Electro Boy” for it to be the name that stuck in Oliver’s mind. And regardless of how many times you used the title, it was one thing for you to use the nickname. It was quite another thing for Oliver to, since, unlike in your case, Oliver’s use of “Electro Boy” could be nothing but derogatory.

Scaramouche had long given up in wooing the errant parrot over. If they were to be mortal enemies, so be it. He’d dealt with that before.

“Oh Scaramouche, you must be joking!” You’d exclaimed when he’d revealed this train of thought, cupping his face in your hand and pressing affectionate kisses to his face. He’d let you do so, let you imagine that one day there might be a reconciliation. But in his heart he knew. Unless Oliver learned to stop with the name calling, Scaramouche would never forgive him for the insult.

“I wish you would write.” You whispered.

Pain skirted through Scaramouche’s face, but still he refused the promise that you needed. You knew that Scaramouche would never be able to have a normal relationship with you, that these trips were necessary, were a part of him that you’d never be able to wrench away. Still, the least he could do was promise to write. Without his writings, well how could you even be sure he was alive?

“I’m sorry.” Scaramouche whispered. Leaning in so your foreheads were touching he let out a sigh, warming your lips with his breath. “I cannot promise I will write. I wouldn’t like to break a promise to you.”

“I know.” You whispered back, shaking your head as much as you could. “Still, I’d almost rather a broken promise.”

“You wouldn’t. I know it would drive you mad.”

“Perhaps, but better than nothing?”

You two stood there, basking in silence. A familiar cry broke the reverie.

“Electro Boy! Electro Boy!” A series of clicks accompanied the sudden shriek. There was no better way to break the spell. Almost immediately Scaramouche pulled away. Walking towards the door he paused, turning around one more time.

“I’ll miss you.”

Those words washed over you, their owner having been carried away with the wind.

 Scaramouche hurried up the steps, anticipation keep his pace quick and his thoughts a jumble of fragments. The long mission he’d been sent on was finally over, and now he could think not of noisy soldiers, nor of the people who continually disappointed him, but of you. He couldn’t wait, every step on the staircase felt like an obstacle, something he must triumph against to reach you. Finally arriving at your door he barely paused, stepping this way and that as he opened the door before striding into the hallway as fast as he could.

“I’m home.” He called into the afternoon light. Almost immediately two things happened. One was that you leapt off your position on the couch, practically barreling yourself into his arms. The second was that Oliver began to screech, hopping from one foot to the other in an indecipherable dance.

“Scara, you’re home!” You cried, exclamation by the way you buried your face into his shoulder.

“Scara! Scara! Scaramouche!” Oliver echoed. The words made Scaramouche freeze up, taken aback as he was by their usage.

“What was that Oliver?” He called out, not altogether sure if the parrot would even reply to him. Scaramouche had really only referred to Oliver by name the first time he met him. After that you had to settle with “the bird” or “the noisemaker”. This time, however Scaramouche couldn’t help but use it. This was, after all, a matter of great importance.

“Scaramouche, Scaramouche, who’s a pretty bird?” Oliver tittered irreverently.

His tone was still somewhat sharp, Scaramouche never heard Oliver snap at you the way he did him, but nevertheless the words had struck a chord. Finding himself at a loss for words Scaramouche stared at you, trying to figure out what was going on.

“That’s probably my fault,” you laughed hesitantly, “I guess I was talking about you more than I thought. It’s only that, well I missed you an awful lot. And Oliver is my confidante, he always has been. So I guess I’ve just been talking a lot to him about you. I’ve really missed you…”

Scaramouche felt his heart soften. Leaning over he pressed a kiss to your forehead, much to the indignation of Oliver, who twittered away as normal. Still, it was better than it had been before. And, if Scaramouche could admit it to himself, he didn’t mind the idea of you pouring out to Oliver how much you missed him. It made him feel important, feel whole. And if your rude bird had helped at all, then Scaramouche could find it in him to respect Oliver, though only a little.

“I’m glad you thought of me.” He whispered to you. “And I’m glad you still had a confidante to talk to.”

And if the result was a parrot who no longer called him “Electro Boy”, then all the better.

 Xiao

Honestly Xiao couldn’t really see the appeal of pets. Something that was only cemented when he met your cat.

“And this is Honey.” You’d said softly, picking up the orange feline and cradling her in your arms. The cat made no sounds, instead it stared straight at Xiao, eyes narrow, gaze untrusting. Xiao was equally out of depths in this matter. What was he supposed to do? Pet it, presumably. Reaching out with hesitant fingers Xiao almost immediately pulled away, dodging an onslaught of clawing.

Ever since then there seemed to have been an odd hierarchy established, at least in Honey’s mind. She never let Xiao sit next to you, oh no, that would’ve been too generous. Instead Honey squeezed into the space between you two, no matter how small and wow was it small sometimes, meowing angrily as Xiao passed his arm over her head to hold your hand. Sometimes she’d try the tactic of walking all over you, lying on your lap, wrapping herself around your shoulders, and all the time glaring at Xiao as if he’d brought some sort of catastrophe on her for daring to try and get close to you.

“Your cat hates me.”

“She does not!” You exclaimed. “Honey doesn’t hate anyone! She just needs to get used to you.”

“She hates me. She thinks I’m beneath her.”

Xiao glared up at Honey, who was looming over the conversation via the bookshelf in your bedroom. Honey’s eyes narrowed and for a moment Xiao felt as if he’d somehow spilled the cat’s secrets. It wasn’t his fault that he knew what she was thinking. After all, hadn’t Xiao been like that for a time? An ornery soul who found most interactions beneath him? Who knew he’d be on the receiving end of that relationship someday. He certainly didn’t appreciate it now.

“You just need to get used to one another.” You continued to assure Xiao. “Honey’s a little bit possessive. It’s nothing personal. She’ll get over it.”

Well it’d been four weeks since that conversation and unfortunately Honey showed exactly zero signs of “getting over it”. Though perhaps she wasn’t clawing at him anymore, maybe because you’d actually scolded her for it, the gaze never left her eyes. The fact that she meowed loudly whenever Xiao made more contact than hand holding also didn’t help her case.

 Xiao sighed, staring at the sky as the sun began its descent beyond the peaks of Liyue. A cluster of trees ringed the back part of your house – trees apparently planted by your grandparents – and Xiao enjoyed perching in them to watch the sunset.

“At least here the cat will leave me alone.” He muttered.

It’d been a tiring day. Honey had been in a particularly bad mood – probably the result of Xiao staying the night – and the atmosphere in the house had become somehow so tense that Xiao figured taking a hike wouldn’t be a bad idea. Even if he found the whole exercise a bit demeaning.

“I’m losing to a cat.” Xiao called flatly out into the air. There was no reply of course, but he didn’t mind that. Imagine what his fellow adepti would think of him now, flailing around, trying to win the affections of a furball whose favorite pastime was being as irritating as possible.

Now Xiao heard a familiar yowl. Glancing down he spied Honey, hair standing on end, gripping a branch as if her life belonged to it. An old conversation rose to the front of his mind. Something about cats being able to go up trees very easily, but not so much down. What an idiotic creature, he thought to himself.

Still it’d be ill form to leave the poor idiot clutching onto the branch, so fighting his smugness as beset he could Xiao leaned over and attempted to wrench the cat from the branches. Honey let out a series of shrieks, claws digging into the bark, but eventually she relinquished and Xiao pulled her up onto his lap. Almost immediately she began pawing at his chest, meowing her indignancy.

“I know.” Xiao glared at the cat. “But they wouldn’t be very happy if you got stuck.”

As if to reply Honey narrowed her eyes, turning around to look at the skyline, rather than acknowledge the adeptus she was now laying on. Xiao hummed in response.

“You know things would be easier if you weren’t so aggressive.”

A meow in response.

“I don’t understand you. I don’t understand why you’re so territorial.”

Another meow.

“I suppose I’m like that. I also want them to myself. Things would be easier without you clawing at me. But they love you, and that’s what matters. I don’t know why but they do.”

Silence, perhaps Honey was insulted by the way Xiao spoke.

“I can’t say I’ll love you. But I’ll try to like you. As long as you try to like me.”

Silence again, but this time Xiao took it as an assent. Letting out a sigh he turned back towards the horizon, gaze drifting towards the peaks that Honey too was watching with interest. The night was alive with the soft chirps of insects, and a faint breeze ruffled Xiao hair, dancing through Honey’s fur. Xiao let out a sigh and, nemesis on his stomach, allowed himself a little rest.

You stared at the mismatched pair, a smile playing on your lips. How funny they looked, curled up together. Like two cats, one a panther, the other a tabby. And yet somehow the tabby was running the shots.

They look so peaceful, you mused to yourself, who knows what they might be like in the morning.

At the very least, you’d be sure to enquire about the nature of your partner’s conversation with your cat, something which had seemed very important to him.

[icerosecrystal]

An Unexpected Turn Of Events

Mominette Month 2021

Day 01 - Find A Child

Masterlist

Authors note: Hi, everyone! Just one quick to let you all know so that this fic is not confusing for you. This fic is a reverse Robin fic. In other words, Dick is the youngest instead of the eldest, and Damian is the oldest instead of the youngest. This same thing applies to all of the other bat children as well.

Marinette sighed in relief as she finished rifling through her purse. She had woken up late and had hastily left her hotel room for her consultation. She had thankfully not left behind anything that she would need during the consultation. Feeling a bit paranoid, she looked once more through her purse, and there was the tape measure, pencils, notebook, sewing kit, and the NDAs. She may or may not have flipped through the grimoire belonging to the guardians and found the spell for expanding the space in her purse to be the way it was for her yo-yo when she transforms into Ladybug. Unlike her yo-yo, the expansion was still limited. But the extra space was still beneficial.

As Marinette was walking, she pulled out her phone to look at the time. 9:50, she thought, leaves me enough time to get to Wayne Tower by 10:00 if I want to be on time. As she was putting her phone away, she felt something hit her legs and torso. She let out a slight oof at the unexpected weight against her lower body. As she peered down, she saw a cute boy, probably around eight years old clinging onto her legs. He had black hair, and as he looked up at her with teary eyes, she saw the most devastating sparkling blue eyes she had ever seen. His slightly chubby cheeks were flushed pink, and his nose also had a pink tinge to it. The flushness was probably a result of the choked sobs he was currently letting out.

As Marinette looked around, she realized that none of the nearby grown-ups looked to be his parents, nor did they look like they were missing a child. She bent down and smiled softly at him, hoping to calm him down a bit. After a beat or two, her smile seemed to do the trick, and his sobs reduced down to a few tears. Once she knew that he had calmed down, she softly whispered, “ Hey, honey. Are you lost? Do you want me to find your parents?”

He sniffled a few times before replying with a slight tremor in his voice, “Yes. Please help me find my Boose.”

“Your Boose?” Marinette questioned.

“Yes,” he slightly whimpered, “Boose is my new daddy. My other daddy and mommy had to say goodbye to me.”

Marinette gasped in shock at his words. This poor kid, so young, and yet his parents were gone. Dead. Marinette thought about the many akumas which her parents didn’t survive. She then shook herself out of her thoughts. Come on, Marinette. Stop worrying about yourself all time. Your parents are okay now. But this kid is lost! Get out of your head! Steeling herself, she gently asked him, “What’s your name, hon? Mine is Marinette, but you can call me Mari..”

Surprised by the kindness and warmth in her voice, he stuttered out, “Richard… but I like Dick better. Richard sounds old. I’m not old!” He then shyly added, “It’s nice to meet you, miss. You have a pretty name.”

Marinette smiled as she saw his confidence growing with every word he spoke. Marinette laughed aloud at the words he shyly said, “It’s nice to meet you too.” She then questioned, “Do you remember where your daddy is?”

Dick was now bouncing on his heels, and he squealed out in excitement, “Yes! My daddy is in the big, tall building with the huge ‘W’ on it!”

The corners of her mouth twitched in amusement. Dick’s excitement was infectious. His words then caught up to her. Well! It looked like luck was on her side after all! She would have enough time to get Dick back to his dad and still be on time for her consultation. She stood back up and then smiled down at him, “Well, I’m heading there too! So why don’t I take you back to your daddy?”

Dick nodded his head rapidly before holding her hand with his much smaller one. They then started walking towards Wayne Tower. Dick continued to babble on about the most random of things. He talked about his grumpy older brother, who it seemed begrudgingly liked him. He also discussed the many pets his older brother had. It also seemed like Dick’s adoptive dad had a slight problem with adopting too many children from what could be told from the many siblings that Dick mentioned.

When the door of Wayne Tower came into sight, Dick stopped talking, allowing them to walk in comfortable silence. As she was about to speak to ask him where in the building his father worked or the name of his dad, Dick blurted out, “I like you, Miss Mari. Can you be my mommy? I don’t have a new one yet!”

Marinette stopped in shock before trying to stutter out something, anything, but all of her words were incoherent. What do you say in response to a question like that, she thought to herself? She saw Dick looking at her for an answer, and after a while, he decided to pull out some puppy eyes. Shoot! Marinette thought. I need to say something to stall for time. At least until I get him to his dad. She reassured him, “I am thinking about my answer, Dickie! But how about we first get back to your daddy, and then we talk about it?”

Dick contemplated her words before nodding in agreement and practically bouncing through the doors. Marinette sighed in relief and also walked through the doors. Her head was down as she speculated what she should do about Dick’s question. Suddenly, a rough voice spoke up in front of her, “Hello. Ms. Dupain-Cheng, I presume.”

Marinette lifted her head, and there in front of her was Bruce Wayne, her newest client. And clinging to him was the very boy that was holding her hand just seconds ago. She suddenly remembered hearing something about Bruce Wayne adopting the son of some acrobats who were in an accident. The name of the kid was Richard Grayson! She hadn’t made the connection!

Realizing that Bruce was looking for an answer, she hastily stuck out her hand, stuttering, “That is correct, Monsieur Wayne. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

He stared at her hand before gently taking it and raising the back of her hand to his lips. “Please, the pleasure is all mine. Let’s make our way upstairs.”

She blushed at his gentlemanly actions before squeaking out a small, “Let’s.” The three of them climbed into the elevator and went to the top floor of the building. The doors of the elevator opened up, and Bruce gestured for her to go first. She did so and looked around at the beautiful interior of the building that she had not yet noticed. Bruce then opened up the door to what seemed to be his office. Inside she saw there to be seven kids. She smiled at them in greeting. Most of them smiled back at her. The exception to this was what looked to be the oldest and one of the younger ones. (Damian and Jason, if you didn’t figure it out.)

Marinette felt Bruce step closer so that he was next to her before he spoke once more, “These are all of my children, biological, adopted, or otherwise.” He pointed to the man with stunning green eyes stating, “This is my oldest son, Damian. He’s 22.” Damian gave a tight-lipped smile in response, along with a slight tilt of his head.

Next, Bruce gestured to what looked to be the second oldest saying, “This is Tim. He’s 18 years old.” He was sipping coffee and giving the briefest of nods to her. He looked seconds away from collapsing.

He then acknowledged a blonde girl, remarking, “This is Stephanie, but she likes to be called Steph. She’s 17 years old.” The girl seemed to be bouncing in place and close to bursting from excitement.

He pointed to a rough-looking boy stating, “This here is Jason. He just turned 15. He’s a few months older than the next youngest.” The boy smirked at Marinette in acknowledgment of his introduction.

Bruce finally gestured to a girl with Asian features saying, “This is Cassandra or Cass. She’s 14, but like I said, a few months younger than Jason.” The girl seemed to be peering through her very soul. After gazing for a few seconds, she hummed in what Marinette deemed to be satisfied as if she liked what she saw.

Bruce then turned towards her, “And you’ve already met Richard or Dick. Thank you for bringing him back.”

Marinette smiled in acknowledgment of his compliment before replying, “It was nothing Monsieur Wayne. He was all alone, so I had to help him. But he was delightful the whole time. Now as for what I came here for, what type of clothes have you been looking for–”.

But before she could continue, Dick blurted out, “Daddy, I like Ms. Mari! Can we keep her? I want her to be my mommy!”

The result was instant. The room burst into a flurry of noises, each of Bruce’s kids trying to speak over one another. Marinette was blushing very brightly. In fact, from how hot her face felt, she was sure that she was inventing new shades of red. Marinette looked over to see Bruce’s reaction and squeaked when she saw him staring at her with a sharp, analytical gaze.

Marinette took a few breathes to calm herself down. She then softened both her gaze and voice as she addressed Dick, “Dickie, honey, as much as I loved meeting you and talking with you, I, unfortunately, cannot be your mommy. Bruce is your daddy, and he will someday find a lovely lady who will be your mommy.”

At her last sentence, all or most of the kids seemed to have snorted in amusement. It seemed as if they disagreed with her statement. Dick looked sad and seemed to be growing teary-eyed. Marinette looked over to Bruce for some help but only found him concealing the amusement that he was most likely feeling quite well. If she hadn’t been Ladybug, she probably would have never noticed the slight bit of emotion peaking through his mask. She glared at him reproachfully as if saying, this is your kid, so you need to help me convince him that I would not make a good mother.

He rolled his eyes in return as if trying to say, Don’t kid yourself. You would make an excellent mother. And you’re already attached to him, don’t deny it.

As Marinette sighed in response, Bruce turned away from her towards Dick and knelt to his level. He then gently said, “Now Dick. Miss Mari can’t be your mommy.” Marinette started nodding as if agreeing with Bruce’s words. But then stopped when he continued, “But she can visit you and maybe one day be your mommy.”

Marinette opened and closed her mouth, no words coming out. Before shyly looking down before raising her head, stammering, “Well, I guess I could visit.”

All the kids started cheering in response. The exception to this was Damian. But the corner of his lips was slightly raised as if the start of a smile. Dick bounded over to her, hugging her and babbling out everything he wanted to do with her. And in all the chaos, Marinette’s and Bruce’s eyes met. They both exchanged small smiles.

Marinette then clapped her hands together, reminding them, “I do still have to do a consultation with all of you. So how about we do that, and then we can do something fun together?” Seeing everyone’s nods, Marinette then continued with the consultation. But unbeknownst to anyone in the room, their relationship would change drastically in the coming months. But ultimately, it would change for the better.

One Year Later

It has been a year since the faithful day when Dick requested Marinette to be his mom. And since then, they only seemed to grow closer. She had met Alfred, Bruce’s Psuedo father and the children’s pseudo grandfather. She thought that he was extraordinary. And honestly godsent. She also experienced a lot of adventures with the Waynes. In fact, after only four months of knowing each other, she figured out that they were the Bat-Family. She had caught them once after patrol and raised her eyebrow as if demanding an answer, and god did she get an answer from them!

Marinette and Bruce had also started dating. This change in their relationship occurred a few weeks after she found out their identities. They were now engaged to be married in a few months. All the children had warmed up to Marinette over the months, even Damian, who always withheld his emotions. But they had all come to see her as their mother figure and were ever so grateful for her. And so they wanted to do something for her birthday.

The very morning of her birthday, everything went wrong. Marinette woke up to quite the sight. All over the kitchen was what looked to be cake batter. It seemed as if they were trying to put the baking she had taught them to good use, but they had also made the cake batter explode. Marinette and Bruce stared at the mess before they both started laughing. Marinette had a light, melodic laugh, while Bruce had a very gruff laugh.

Marinette beckoned all of them forward for a hug before proclaiming, “I love that you all were trying to do something for me, but none of you had to do anything. But it’s the thought that counts, so thank you. But next time, please stay away from the kitchen.”

She then shooed them on their way before getting two mops, handing one to Bruce as she passed by him. She kissed him on the cheek before starting to clean up the mess, Bruce following her actions. She then quietly snickered, “Well, this was quite a sight to wake up to on your birthday. I would have thought that today would have been relaxing.”

She looked up to see Bruce shoot her a small look before shaking his head in amusement. “Mari, darling, when has our lives with them ever been relaxing? They are always getting into trouble.”

She snorted in response, “Yes, well, they get it from their father.”

Bruce glared at her lightly before pulling her into a deep kiss, “I don’t know. Their mother seems to be just as chaotic sometimes.”

She shook her head in amusement, pulling herself away from Bruce’s embrace and questioning, “How is this even my life anymore?”

He chuckled lightly, alerting her that he was about to sass her in some way. “Well, from what I remember, about a year ago, you came across this kid that–”

Marinette held up a finger to his mouth, stopping him from uttering another word. She was also glaring at him reproachfully. “Yes, I do know-how. I was there. Now go away so that I can clean up the rest of the kitchen. You’re distracting me.”

He let go of his mop before giving her another deep kiss and then darting away. As he strolled out of the room, he shouted over his shoulder, “Oh, I know how distracting I am. I am well aware of how irresistible I am, ma coccinelle.” He could hear her spluttering in response before yelling back at him, but he continued on his way to his office. Along the way, he chuckled to himself.

Back in the kitchen, Marinette was glaring at nothing. She was also plotting ways to show her fiance who the irresistible one was. She then sighed in happiness. Yes, her life was amazing. A year ago, if someone told her this would be her life, she wouldn’t have believed it. But now she was living it, and god was it amazing. Funny what finding a child will do to you, Marinette thought to herself before carrying on with her task of cleaning up the mess her kids had made. Yeah, life was amazing.

2,683 words

I actually got it done!

~ ❄ Crystal ❄

@mominettemonth

Permanent Taglist:

@heinrode @astoriaandromeda

Taglist:

no one yet

[limitlessgojo]

Blood Bound: Blackened Bond (Ch 16)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood, Death, Gore, Japanese Mythical Folklore, No Major Character Death

Previous Chapter: 土御門天皇 (Tsuchimikado)

Next Chapter: Inferno: Flames of Hell

Word Count: 3.3k

Tags: Kamo Noritoshi x Reader, Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj @rizzo-nero @whoreuc @fkngkumiko @isl3t @gojoussunglasses @onepotatostand-blog @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife @lordguameow @track5enthusiast @nayydoesthings

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, and specify if you're okay with NSFW posts or not, please mention it in the comments below ty ❤

This chapter is LONG, a lot longer than I expected haha, happy reading!

Chapter 16: Non-Standard

Noritoshi was in a shitty mood to say the least. He went home to his clan immediately after getting a summon. The clan head had discussed their stance on the upcoming war and is readying their jujutsu sorcerers for battle.

His half-brother had made a not too subtle snarky remark about you. "You've already gotten yourself a woman? Wonder if she even likes you. I'm willing to bet Homura's cuter than her." Secretly his brother was curious about you, having heard about your special grade status.

Noritoshi steeled himself, knowing his brother's playboy tendencies at his school.

"That's enough. I am quite serious about her, so don't even think of taking her."

He watched his brother shut up upon seeing him like this and left him hanging.

'Heeehhh? That Noritoshi is actually interested in someone? Interesting…'

Other serious matters aside, his father, as usual, asked about you, only for him to find out you've both gotten into an argument.

The head of the Kamo clan only raised an eyebrow. "That’s normal for every couple."

Noritoshi kept his temper at bay. But he couldn't help resenting his phone call with his father that day. If his father was less controlling and obsessive over their clan status, maybe it would have gone better.

No... He was also influenced by the elders. Ashamed as Noritoshi was to acknowledge it himself.

“We… broke up…”

At that, his father shuts his eyes, mood obviously souring.

"You are literally a fated pair, how is that even possible? *sigh* If it proves too difficult with her… well we had that list of marriage partners set up for you. Homura has made it quite clear she and her family would be very delighted to assimilate with ours."

Is this what Noritoshi wanted? A woman who obviously flirted with him as she lusted for power? No, he wanted you, who never inquired about his status. Just about his family, his mom, dad and half siblings.

You made it very clear you were worried about his family's well-being. And whether they would like you or not. You want him to meet yours. You never even asked him for a gift or much favors. (Though he had a feeling your family was pretty well off, based on your clothes and jewellery.)

And he loved the fact that he could breathe like a regular teenage guy around you. The only thing you’ve requested from him so far was honesty and transparency.

"No. That won't be needed. Y/N is mine. She is the only one for me." He spoke slowly and clearly. This is the first time he actually disagreed with his father. He'd lose his sanity without you.

"I expected as much, I've never seen you this determined about something before. Soulmates are so complicated." His father sighed out. "Do as you wish. It isn't wise for me or the elders to interfere with something as sacred and ancient as this soulbond you share with her anyways."

Noritoshi felt himself earn a small win at that. He was growing a backbone. "Thank you father."

“However! You cannot force her to love you back. Surely you know this. If you don’t get married by the age of 25, as per our clan tradition I’ll have you set up with another woman.”

Noritoshi inwardly sighed, resigned to his fate.

◇◇◇

Needless to say, you trained like a demon as the eve of Christmas quickly approached. Nobody dared come 10 feet near you as you perfected your Blizzard and Tornado techniques. It was normal to hear the crack of a sonic boom and see flashes of lightning around you.

You were hesitant to use your cursed technique reversal. You barely use flames and Inferno in general, but it can't be helped. But now you hold a pack of matches in your hand.

You lit a match and manipulated the flames. It danced dangerously around your fingers before you moved it from one hand to the other.

You were doing well. Spending a lot of time here on campus helped you to control your emotions and not let anger fuel your cursed energy like you did when you were younger. Those were such bad habits.

A wheel of flame circled in front of you. Very clean and stable. All of the sudden, a strong whirl of wind and empty space extinguished the flames like a vacuum … Only one other person in Japan is capable of doing that other than you.

You turned your head to the side and saw an incredibly tall man with snow white hair and a pair of sunglasses approached you. His bright baby blue eyes gently twinkling and peeking over the rims of his shades.

“Satoru nii, it’s been a while. Why visit me now?” You tiredly asked. He came up just a few inches away from you, staring down at you.

“I got a call from Hiroki. I’m here to help you with your special cursed techniques. It’s time, you’ve stopped holding yourself back Neko-chan.” He leered down with his trademark grin.

◇◇◇

You spend the entire afternoon getting pushed around by Satoru. This man was crazy strong. He kicked you against a tree. “OOF” you heaved.

"You avoid using Inferno. Is it because of your childhood trauma? I'm not shaming you but it's something you need to overcome."

You frowned at his words.

"You only have today to train with me y/n! Aren’t you honored I went out of my way from Tokyo to Kyoto?”

"Like hell I am."

“You’re not using the full extent of your cursed techniques. That power is your one true ally in this world. Trust it a bit more. Apart from your soulmate anyways, but I can see you and Noritoshi aren't exactly swell right now." Your eye twitched at that statement.

Satoru eyed the broken strands of red ropes that floated around you. Not a good sign. It was reaching out to the distance. Maybe to where Noritoshi is huh, Satoru wondered. Until he spotted one thin string, still very much intact and alive. He grinned.

‘This prick and his fucking special eye abilities’, you grumbled. He hit your back hard, “What bad language you have. Imma straighten you up today kitteeeen~”

He pranced around you and squatted to lean down to your level.

"But seriously, you say you want to get strong but you fear your own power kitten. Don't do that." Satoru pointed straight at your eyes. “Remove the fear of hurting the people around you. Because you’re literally fighting to protect the ones you love, focus instead on harnessing your cursed energy to fight. Your messed up emotions could cost you a fight, even your life. Doesn’t matter if you’re a special grade like me. At this rate you won’t catch up to me.”

You slumped to the ground in defeat.

“To be honest, I feel like my growth has stunted. I don’t know if it’s the lack of powerful opponents I’ve had lately.”

He sighed out so loudly and obnoxiously that your anger flared up at him. “Thaaat’s what I kept telling you. You shoulda come to Tokyo Jujutsu instead of here! 100% I would enjoy teaching you and I mean it. I could teach you ya know, and Yuuta is there as well. Another Special Grade, although his circumstances are quite unique and with the way he is right now, you have a better chance at beating him one-on-one since he’s a newbie to this world. And yet you kept saying you wanted to be here for your family.” He shook his head.

You felt as though your head cleared up all of a sudden. “Because I was here…. I was meant to be here. Satoru. I know it deep in my soul. Because I met Noritoshi and…. “ Your heart throbbed so loudly you heard it in your ears. A deep pain stabbed into you.

Ah right. You said you were over him. You broke up with him weeks ago.

“And? You’re not together anymore. Figure out your heart and I could let you reconsider transferring to Tokyo Jujutsu High you know?” He said with a frown.

Why does the idea of leaving Noritoshi behind feeling like you were carving your heart out? He isn’t anything to you anymore and yet…

No. Enough of this. You’re here to train and fight that curse that killed Sora. Your emotions were all over the place. Satoru came up to you and wiped your tears off your face.

“What are you doing to yourself y/n? Don’t lie to yourself. I thought you wanted to live life as honestly as possible.” Even Satoru looked concerned and troubled over your state.

You gulped. “Yeah you’re right. I told myself I wanted to get stronger and protect the ones I love. Now I’m just running away. Noritoshi at least has been trying to reach out to me, but I shut him down.” Your heart is hurting.

Satoru stared at you and the cursed energy that was rapidly pulsing around you. Then grinned. “Then... Fight me one-on-one right here right now. Let’s make sure to keep the damages to a minimum and take care of the buildings. All the other students are still here on campus. Sky's the limit since both of us can move well in mid-air. I want to see you control your emotions and fight me properly. I’ll hold back.” He said.

You took a deep breath and looked back up. “Challenge accepted.”

You’ve envisioned this countless times. You wanted to see how you could match-up against Satoru and all his years of experience. You weren’t expecting to win, but you were not going down without a fight. Your cursed technique is actually a good matchup for his.

You can manipulate molecules. Though you suspect his control is on an atomic level, and thus could overpower yours due to his finesse and 6 eyes. But you could at the very least try.

Satoru, on the other hand, already knew of your potential. 'She is the only one I know who can actually touch and surpass me, given that she can control gravity and condense molecules. It will come down to timing and refining techniques.'

“Give me 5 minutes to suit up.” You asked. He agreed. You flew to your room and eyed the katana of your father. He actually planned to give it to Sora when she turns 16. But due to her death, he gave it to you instead on your 16th.

The name was Kintsugi, because it was made of two halves before being welded together in the centre with high grade steel. The center has a core of a fine diamond dust that’s infused with cursed energy. It’s a grade 1 special tool that multiplies the cursed energy you put into it by 10.

“Don’t break it. Don’t break it…. But It’s Satoru I’m going against. It will break.” And so you put it back and instead reached for your best twin blades and metallic whip. You coiled it around your wrist like a bangle, before flying back to Satoru.

“Done preparing, kitten?” He had removed his sunglasses and his blue eyes were out wide open as they assessed your cursed technique.

“Yep!” You yelled. “Ah Toru, shouldn’t we inform the elders or Utahime sensei that we-”

He didn’t give you time to speak as he appeared in front of you all of the sudden. Rushing with a right hook. You quickly dodged. He kept his word and is going easy on you at least.

You exchanged a few blows with him, both his limitless and your spacial barrier active so technically, no hits were landed.

Until you warped the space and forced the molecules around them to retract, making you actually reach and hit him.

He must have expected the solid punch, because in return, he kicked you as he warped off your spacial barrier. You eyed him as you regrouped. It’s anyone’s game huh.

“You’re still holding back! Are you going to be like this in a real battle? Are you okay with staying weak? Or do you have to wait for someone special to die before you ignite?!”

Oh no he didn’t. Your emotions raged, and you tried to calm them down. But all you saw was blood red. You never felt this angry at Satoru before. Before you knew it, you had activated inferno, making the entire surrounding area, which Satoru was in, combust and burn up in flames.

You lit up a match and pulled the flames on the ground and trees towards your smaller flame and held a massive ball of fire. Satoru was gone, it was only soot on the ground. You looked up to see him hurtling down at you.

You barely dodged, before wrapping the flames around you as you used it to strike at him repeatedly. You both rose up higher and higher into the air.

“Special art: Goldenrod,” you shot a bolt of lightning at Satoru only for him to dodge it. “Don’t just shoot it from your hands! Electricity is a current! You can make it run through your entire body!” He yelled as you both spiraled and fought over the campus.

He had the energy to teach you while you were fighting. You scoffed, but listened carefully, generating electricity in your hands before letting it wrap around you.

You were both dodging and striking at each other with such power. The trees swayed violently as winds and rubble were thrown about.

“What on earth…” Noritoshi and the other students stared at the flashes of fire, lightning, and wind above the campus.

The sky darkened. Good. If you had water, that was another asset.

He must have realized this as he immediately activated his Cursed Technique: Reversal. “Red.” You were forced back, plummeting to the ground. You swiftly turned and saw Miwa and Mai staring at you with horror.

You pulled yourself up back into the sky, still filled with fire and lightning, narrowly missing the building. You twisted your fingers to the side. The flames turned into the shape of the Dragon and you whipped back to hit Satoru from the front while your dragon of flame hit him from behind.

He danced around your attacks, teleporting from one area to the next to dodge them.

He then easily extinguished your flames with a flick of his wrist, but your lightning stayed. He can’t extinguish it, because it was coursing through your body, constantly moving.

You both stood, hundreds of feet high above the Kyoto Campus in midair. Lightning flashed above and winds howled.

You’ve never been pushed this hard your entire life. Not with Hiroki. Not with Todo. But Satoru was really on another level of strong. Unbreakable like a monster. He didn’t feel human anymore.

You tried for a Mach Speed hit, which you’ve never tried on anyone else; it would kill them on impact. “Mach 3.5” There was a loud BANG!

Going at Mach Speed has its limits of course. You can afford to do Mach 1, 5 times a day. Mach 2, 3 times, and Mach 4 only once.

A huge cone of smoke formed behind you as you launched yourself at Satoru. He was still able to evade you, but you pointed one hand to him, quickly following up on another attack.

“Fubuki.” Your blizzard technique was a combination of Niflheim and Tatsumaki. Cold air whipped around you and you thrust it towards Satoru. A mini tornado has formed around you and it pushed and pulled widely. But you were in the eye of the storm.

Satoru dodged your winds, but couldn’t escape them all, wincing as some small ice shards cut into his skin. He attracted debris and rocks towards you. One caught on your shoulder, making you yell in pain, but the rest you were able to guard against with your winds.

He immediately closed in on you to prevent you from doing another full blast and punched with ‘Red’. You countered with a roundhouse kick supercharged with your blizzard and lightning, neutralising his infinity jujutsu with a bit of mixed gravity control.

A huge gust of whirlwind was emitted from the impact, forcing everyone on campus down to the ground.

“GOJO! TSUCHIMIKADO! STOP THIS!” Utahime was screaming at the top of her lungs, still heard over the roar of thunderclap.

You both looked at each other and knew it had to end soon. Rain was starting to fall.

He threw his back and laughed out loud. “I hadn’t had this much fun in ages. You’ve grown really strong. Stop me if you can.” And flew away from the buildings and into the surrounding forest. You whipped your tornado around you and quickly followed him.

All the other students that had been watching you go at it followed. Utahime did as well. They stood from a distance as both of you exchanged more hits.

You lit another match and let arrows made of flames rain on Satoru, weakening his limitless barrier as much as you could. Only one arrow slightly singed his sleeve. Damn he was good.

Satoru attracted your body with “Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue.” You felt like your insides were tearing as you tried to stop his force. But his limitless technique easily overpowered yours. You let go and rushed towards him with both your swords out.

He easily sidestepped and kicked them out of your grasp. The hit was so heavy, even though it hit your swords, you felt the force reverberate throughout your body.

Satoru grabbed your neck from behind, and for the very first time since you were awarded the Special Grade Jujutsushi status, you were forced down onto the ground.

You used your cursed technique to soften the blow as much as possible, but Satoru was relentless as he slammed you head-first down onto the grass.

Everyone winced as you hit the ground hard. "He's not human." Mai said. Everyone agreed, not used to seeing you at the mercy of another party like this. They were reminded of who exactly was the strongest sorcerer alive.

In order to win against Satoru, your goal was to touch him and move past his limitless barrier. Even if it’s just for a moment. You couldn’t use Niflheim or Inferno from afar. He would remain unaffected as he guards and stops the change in movement of molecules around him.

But now his hand was around your neck. Your twin blades suddenly rush to close in around his neck in an x position to gather his attention, while you use your technique to warp the space around his hand to weaken limitless and hold onto him.

You lashed out with your metallic whip, letting your cursed technique run through it. It worked and scratched his cheek a bit.

"Enhanced gravity: Output 30%", the ground cracked underneath the both of you as a massive weight pressed down. And then you shocked both Satoru and yourself with the lightning coursing through you. Screaming at the pain in the process.

He gritted his teeth as volts shocked his bones.

Utahime and the others stared at both of you. "What a huge amount of cursed energy." Todo said in awe. "Non-standard Jujutsu users are insane."

Satoru still had the strength to hit your lower back which caused you to heave out and stop Goldenrod from activating. Both of your clothes were literally toasted. “Haha. You’re a scary one y/n.”

That’s all you remembered before you passed out; you were out of cursed energy.

◇◇◇

Noritoshi rushed over to take you in his arms. Pulling your unconscious body close to his, he gave you a once-over. You had just fainted from exhaustion, there were no serious injuries. Good.

"Noritoshi," Satoru called.

"Yes, Gojo San?"

"Take care of her for me please."

He straightened up, "Of course. There’s no need to ask that from me." He then carried you to the infirmary, holding you gently in his arms.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

Author's Notes: Me writing this entire scene: FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!!! (x100)

Y/n was able to fight on par with Satoru, because he chose to limit his cursed energy output and match his skills to her level. A psychokinesis cursed technique would be a natural enemy for limitless since you can condense and expand space between molecules. But you still lack experience in battle. And if we were going to talk about Domains, Satoru would dominate the battle.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Let's Call It Funny

Prompt: Hi! If you know about those gen z peter parker posts, could your write something based on that? With Steve Getting It (tm) because fatalistic nihilism in humor tended to show up during the world wars and we’re seeing a reflection of that now? Sorry- I just think it’d make great options for steve and peter bonding, and dad!tony but actual emotions (gasp!) You can totally ignore this if you want!

Don't ever apologize for giving me such a great ask

Read on Ao3 Part 2

Warnings: uhhh gen z humor

Pairings: none! all found family in this bitch

Word Count: 2529

Here’s the thing about humor. It’s not necessarily that one generation is any funnier than another, it’s just that high school kids are perpetually the funniest people alive. Something about being in a pressure cooker of an environment with a bunch of other people whose bodies are changing in new unpredictable ways whilst having very little say in how their lives go creates humor. Gasp of shock, right?

So basically what Peter’s trying to say is that he’s fucking hilarious.

Come on, not only does he have the default high schooler stuff, he’s also gay, which gives him an instant bonus. He’s trans, which opens up a whole new subset of humor for him to explore. He’s neurodivergent as fuck, and we all know that makes people funny as hell. And if that weren’t enough, he’s severely traumatized and he’s Spider-Man.

Peter Parker is funny as hell.

What is truly devastating—and really, it’s their loss—is that so few people seem to appreciate it.

Ned gets it. Ned’s not someone Peter would expect to not get it, just because hey, it’s Ned. They’ve met each other in the hallways and been like ‘hey! You’re still alive! Congrats on having a body!’ Only for the other one to go ‘hey! You’re alive too! I wish I had an intangible form!’

Because bodies are stupid and evolution really fucked us over but at least we’re not horses.

A solid 50% of their interactions are just quoting John Mulaney and Bo Burnham bits back and forth at each other. Peter’s never gonna forget the day they both had detention and had to watch that stupid Cap PSA—it’s propaganda, you Nazi fuckwits—and something reminded them of the ‘horse loose in a hospital’ bit and they just did it. Full out. Stood up and did the actions and everything. The rest of the room was either trying to do it with them—and failing, because they didn’t have nearly enough practice—or looking so confused. The security guard—Paul, he’s great—just looked at them blearily after they finished and went:

“I mean, you kids are right, but you’re not supposed to talk in detention.”

Well, excuse them for trying to make it more entertaining for everyone.

MJ gets it. If Peter’s being honest, he learned most of his humor from her. She is the master and it is an honor to study in her wake. He’s definitely hijacked the asking whether or not anything’s actually meaningful existentialism jokes and they’ve wormed their way into his day-to-day repertoire.

“Why are you late, Mr. Parker?”

“Time is a social construct, Mrs. B, none of us are ever late or early except in the subjective spacetime paths. The limits of our sensory perception make it so we can’t tell if anything is real, let alone whether or not they conform to some arbitrary definition of ‘time.’”

“…just sit down, Peter.”

See? It works.

Aunt May gets…worried.

Sure, they’ve actually talked about when Peter needs help and wants to reach out and when he’s just making jokes off the cuff because hey, humor’s a great coping mechanism or it’s just a joke and not that serious. Peter loves his Aunt May, so so so much, and the last thing he wants to do is really worry her. And she’s gotten pretty good at figuring out when he’s just joking and when he’s spiraling.

Sometimes, though…

“Peter,” Aunt May calls from the kitchen, “did you remember to stop by the store on your way home?”

Peter freezes halfway through the door.

“Peter?”

He swallows. “…no.”

“Why not?”

“Because I am too stressed and consumed by the swirling pit of blackness deep in my soul to remember my head is connected to my body, let alone remember to go to the store.”

Silence.

“…Aunt May?”

“Do you want to drop off your stuff and then go to the store?”

“…yeah, please.”

“Love you, Pete.”

“Love you!”

“Try to remember that you’ve got arms so you can pick stuff up.”

“Got it!”

See? It’s fine.

The Avengers don’t get it. Like, at all.

Natasha and Clint like, sorta get it? They make the same jokes all the time when they think Peter can’t hear them, which—come on, you guys are super spies, surely you know people are gonna hear you when they’re gonna hear you. Natasha will make a crack about something, Clint will laugh and shove her shoulder. It’s their dynamic, we get it. But when Peter does it…

“Hey, Baby Spider?”

Peter sticks his head up from the ceiling. “Yeah?”

“Where’re you crawling off to?”

“I’m gonna go hide in the garage.”

Natasha blinks up at him. “Why?”

“Because if I get crushed by the airlock doors then I won’t have to do my paper tomorrow.”

Silence. Natasha’s mask is too good for Peter to actually see what’s going on with her, let alone from this angle, but silence isn’t good.

“Nat—oof!”

Something blurs out of the vent nearby and tackles him down onto the couch.

“Clint!”

“Nope,” Clint mutters, wrapping Peter up in a hug as Natasha comes to join them. “You’re staying with us now, Pete.”

“Guys, I’m fine.”

“Peter,” Natasha says softly, “don’t joke about that, you’ll make us worry.”

“I don’t wanna do that,” Peter mumbles, “but it’s fine.”

“Coping mechanism, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s got too many brain cells to do that,” Clint says, ruffling Peter’s hair.

“Stark has a lot of brain cells, you see what good that does him?”

“Hmm. Guess you’re gonna have to stay awhile, Pete.”

There are worse fates. Definitely.

Thor just kind of gets confused by it. He acts like Peter isn’t going to be absolutely fine because there’s no need to do anything like that. No, Peter, you don’t have to put the bleach in first into your cereal, there’s plenty of milk left over. No, Peter, you don’t have to throw yourself off the roof because your laptop is freezing, Stark has so many just lying around. No, Peter, you don’t have to pack a rucksack and run away to the Alps and live like a recluse, come here and get a hug.

Peter suspects Thor’s playing dumb on purpose. The man is smart as hell, there’s no way all of this is flying over his head. And honestly, it warms his heart a little bit when he sees Thor’s sincere, concerned look when he thinks Peter’s not looking.

Banner and Rhodey just kinda shake their heads and move on. They’re used to it. They live and work with some of the most dramatic fucking people in the goddamn universe, they’re used to a little bit of extra humor. Occasionally one of them will give him a look that says he’s pushing his luck, but that’s not often. Less often now ‘cause he knows what he can get away with. He’s also seen them hiding smiles behind their hands or poorly disguised coughs. They’re not as slick as they think they are.

Tony.

Tony is the fucking worst.

Peter can’t get away with so much as sighing too hard before Iron Dad™ is swooping in all soft words and concerned touches. Jesus. You’d think he’d get it, he uses humor as a coping mechanism too, goddamnit, why is he so worried about Peter?

Okay, fine, he knows why.

MJ’s over at the Tower, having another one of her ‘sketch people in crisis’ appointments with Natasha. Peter is coming off of a 32-hour caffeine rush and is violently wishing for death. Tony is in the kitchen doing…something.

“Hey, do you think bleach would make a good smoothie?”

Tony wheels around to see MJ pulling a glass out of the cupboard.

“Kid—“

“Sounds like a filling breakfast,” Peter groans, “can you make me one too?”

“…I’m legitimately concerned,” comes Tony’s mutter.

MJ ignores him. “Who’s the bitch on your forehead?”

Peter rubs absentmindedly at the massive knot on his head, courtesy of a wall that rudely decided to move at the last second while Peter was attempting to walk through a doorway. “He’s called DJ Braindeath and he’s my only friend in the world.”

“Peter—“

“Oh did you meet him at the furry convention?"

“Technically it’d be a buggie convention.”

“What the hell are you two talking about?”

“The pantry doesn’t have good coffee, I’m going to Starbucks.” MJ grabs her bag. “You want anything?”

“A will to live?”

“Peter, what the fuck—“

“Oof, I’ve only got like…20 bucks.”

Peter lets his head drop back to the counter. “Then just leave me here to die.”

“Can I have champagne at your funeral?”

“I’ll be dead, I won’t fucking care.”

“God, I wish that were me.”

Then MJ’s gone and Peter gets treated to a 20-minute conversation with a very concerned Tony Stark that he doesn’t remember most of because hey caffeine crashes aren’t fun.

He definitely does it on purpose sometimes just to wind Tony up. Like there’s this one incident with an interview he does as Spider-Man and he gets asked what he thinks about Tony Stark’s newest intern, Peter Parker.

“That boy’s an embarrassment, just…complete failure. Can’t speak without stuttering through every other word and self-esteem issues all over the place. Also looks like he got dressed in the dark.”

The reporter had awkwardly moved on to another question. The interview aired later that day while Peter was at the Tower. Tony sat next to him on the couch about halfway through.

“You look good, Pete.”

Peter had mumbled halfheartedly, only to hear the reporter ask the same question.

“See, that’s the problem with having a secret identity, you don’t…” Tony trailed off as he heard the answer.

Peter snorted as Spider-Man finished talking. “Say that to my face, you bitch, get a real job. At least I don’t look like someone vomited silly string all over my spandex.”

“Are you okay?”

See? Fun.

The only one he’s made a conscious effort to not be this funny around is Steve.

Because, okay, here’s the thing. Steve’s disappointed look has no effect on him anymore. He’s immune, motherfuckers, he’s had detention too many times for it to still work. Here’s the other thing: Steve doesn’t actually use that tone of voice that often. It’s this meticulously crafted image he plays up in interviews because it catches all the bad guys so off guard when Captain America is suddenly swearing a blue streak at them and telling them to go fuck themselves in, honestly, quite creative ways. The sincere Steve Rogers disappointment and concern still very much works. Also doesn’t help that Steve does caring so fucking well, like…who gave him the right to say a few things and hold Peter like he’s something precious and do the quick one-two punch of saying a super sincere compliment and following it up with ‘I love you.’ Who did that? It’s rude. Stop it.

And yeah, Steve’s the resident Mom at the Ready. It’s a risk to even sit on your bed looking sad ‘cause here he comes, wearing something snuggly and saying ‘hey’ in that stupid, stupid compassionate voice. So Peter knows he’s just gonna end up crying from too much soft if Steve actually gets concerned. Which won’t be fair because he’s gonna try and explain that he’s fine and it’s just his sense of humor while crying. Yeah, like that’s gonna be believable.

So he’s trying not to but damnit it’s hard.

Then he walks into the kitchen one day to see Steve struggling with the toaster.

It’s one of Tony’s new prototypes—which means that anyone struggling with it is so fair—and from the looks of it, it’s managed to not only burn the bread to a crisp, but also mangle the slices beyond recognizable shape.

Peter’s not paying that much attention. He’s on his phone, heading towards his spot in the corner with the beanbag chairs and definitely doesn’t recognize Steve as he goes.

He only plops down and hears someone declare, in a completely deadpan voice: “There is no point to existing at all.”

“Oh, mood.”

He doesn’t think much of it. He doesn’t even know who said that, that’s how hyper-focused he is right now. He hears the others come in and feels Clint plonk down next to him.

“Hey, Pete.”

“Sah, dude.”

“Just vibing. Did I do it right?”

“Yeah, man you’re going great.”

“You teach Thor ‘yeet’ yet?”

“We’re getting there.”

“Steve,” he hears Tony call from the kitchen, “what the fuck did you do?”

“Language.”

“Don’t fucking talk to me about language when you’re making toast that looks like a goddamn welder’s table, what is that?”

“Your prototype’s work, I imagine.”

“How did you even—“

Clint chuckles next to him as the two of them start fondly bickering. Peter’s too busy speedrunning the five stages of grief in his head.

Did…did Steve say the thing about there being no point to existence at all?

No…no way.

He must be imagining things.

Then, of course, there’s a chime on his phone.

Ned: Did u do the bio hw?

There was bio homework?

Ned: yeah, due at noon

“I now know why God abandoned this timeline and when will death come to take me?”

The room goes silent.

Shit.

“Peter,” Clint says, “it’s gonna be fine, you can do bio homework in your sleep—“

“Are you okay?” Ah, that’s Thor.

“Kid—“

And Nat, and Tony’s probably rushing over here as he speaks.

Then there’s another voice.

“We can only pray the reaper arrives early for his appointment with us, kid.”

Peter’s head snaps up.

Steve.

Steve fucking Rogers raises a coffee cup at him in salute and takes a sip. He makes a face.

“…that was definitely salt,” he mutters, before shrugging and downing the whole thing.

…what?

Peter’s still staring at him until he catches his gaze and winks.

Oh, fuck yes.

“Steven Grant Rogers,” Tony says, hands on his hips, “explain.”

Steve just gives him a look. “I grew up in the Great Depression, Tony, and I was in the army. You don’t think I have a fatalistic sense of humor?”

“Plus the fact that most of my generation is resorting to types of humor found when death and stress are so ever-present that you have to joke about it says something,” Peter adds, “doesn’t it?”

Steve raises his cup again. “See? He gets it.”

And just like that, the bond between Peter Parker and Steve Rogers was written, formed, and sealed in salt and existentialist depression.

“There’s two of you,” Tony mumbles, “oh my god, there’s two of you.”

“Oh, you just wait ’til Buck and Sam get back.”

Peter can’t fucking wait.

[interact-if]

Umm hi 👉👈 I realized that most of the asks you guys get are about games and rec lists. You guys deserve so much recognition for the work you put in this blog, so I wanted to ask if I can do a little get-to-know-the-mods thing? If that's okay!

1. Besides writing, what are your hobbies?

2. Do you have a niche interest right now?

3. Any fave songs/artists/bands?

4. Any fave movies/tv shows?

5. On a scale of 1-10, how likely would you survive in your wip's world?

You can totally ignore this if you guys want, no pressure. Anyway, much love to all the interact-if mods! You guys are incredible! ❤

We saw this ask and we went 👀 👀 👀 so we’re happy to answer! Thank you so much for the fun ask!

 We also rated our survivability in all of our collective games, since Mars isn't an author! Fun stuff! Spoilers, though: it’s really not looking so great for me (Dani) but that’s fine!!!  😌

1. I’m a photographer as well as a graphic artist (but not like. A painter/drawer kind of artist!) and, on a general level, a maker and a tinkerer!

2. Fountain pens! I only write with ink, and only with fountain pens, and I use bottled inks/converters!

3. I’m pretty eclectic with music, but my top genres are alt rock, indie, indie pop, etc, as well as top 40s and some rap.

4. I feel like this is the hardest one for me to answer? Favorite movies/shows? Avatar: the Last Airbender has been a favorite show of mine since I was a little kid, but I have a harder time thinking of shows I would call a favorite in recent years. There are shows I’ve liked, and a lot of shows I’ve watched. But I’m picky! And demanding! It takes a lot to earn a place in Dani’s Trophy Case of Favorites. 😌 I would say I quite liked A Quite Place (movie), and I liked Us (movie). When it comes to TV shows, I have a hard time being pleased with them if they don’t end well. As a result, I have a penchant for a good limited series/miniseries (because they’re stories that have an end in mind and the plot reflects that, dagnabbit).

5. Heh. Okay.

In The Goodfellows? I think I stand I chance. I can exercise my sparkling wit and lovable personality to the best effect. I’m gonna give myself an 8/10 survivability rating. Even if I don’t have the right skills, I can go crying to the person who does and they’ll save me. Maybe.

In Creatures’ Cradle? I’m super $**!%d. 😌 1/10 survivability rating. And that 1 is me being nice to myself. The day the apocalypse breaks out I would probably be patient 0. I am self-aware. I would not do well in an apocalypse. Zombies care not for aforementioned sparkling wit and lovable personality, and I have all the muscle of a boiled spaghetti noodle. So it’s a no go.

Greater Than Gods (Cruz): Well. I’m going to be optimistic. And say that I have the wisdom not to do things I shouldn’t do and not to rock boats I shouldn’t rock. I’m going to give myself a 7/10 based on insider information, but also based on reckless optimism!

Vardir (Cruz): Cruz says this is a lighthearted game, so 10/10 LOL.

When it Hungers (Roast): I’m giving myself a nice, mediocre 5/10. I think I could put my mind to work here; I joke that I’m the village idiot, but I’m actually pretty smart! Unfortunately, I’m also curious, and maybe a little bad with authorities who won’t answer my questions. So I knocked off a lot of points due to the fact that I’d probably poke the metaphorical bear. So it’s a real coin flip as to whether I’d really make it or not.

Orthall Bay (Nines): Considering the genre is “horror” and the game intro includes the words “monster” and “maim,” I’m giving myself a whooping, enthusiastic 3/10. Yes, folks, I am that confident in myself! Once again, I can’t charm the socks off a monster (or can I?), so one of my greatest weapons is snatched from beneath my feet. Alas!

1. Beloved I’m a college student in the middle of a pandemic... i can hardly even write LOL i do draw at times which u can see in my personal blog (nothing too good really) and i used to do karate before things went to shit <3

2. Nothing niche I believe? All I do is leave Netflix as bg noise every day n play popular videgames (genshin)

3. Porter Robinson <3 I love Bea Miller a lot as well but lately I’ve been feeling Porter a lot

4. The Good Place <3

5. My WIPs:

Greater than Gods: Highly situational, the world GtG is set in is as broad as the real world LOL so I don’t have an universal answer. But keeping it vague, and knowing my own personality, I feel like 5/10. depends on my luck.

Vardir: 10/10 no one dies in Vikgade, unless you’re a hunter but I wouldn’t be a hunter <3

Others’ WIPs

I'm gonna give myself a solid 5/10 in all other WIPs because y'all aren't writing lighthearted stories either. I feel like as long as I avoid the role of the MC I will be mostly fine. I hope. But as Dani said I'm also prone to fight the wrong person and dig my own grave so 😌

1. Well, writing is a very, very, very, distant hobby since Words Hard, but I like to crochet and sculpt a little! Anything to do with fiddling with my hands and I’m good to go. And like, debatable but graphic design is my passion [insert clown emoji here since Tumblr said No]

2. Oh yeah a bunch! DnD yelling at people, thinking of arson, crocheting, rock climbing and simply vibing. I got into podcasts a few years ago and I’m always looking for more recs, so if you have some, hmu 😤

3. Pls,,,,my music taste is,,,so weird do not let me expose myself with lack of consistency but uhh. Current songs that are stuck in my head include; Cult of Dionysus , Achilles Come Down and The Last Shanty  

4. If you’ve ever spoken to me before, I probably yelled about Pacific Rim to you or at you. Plus I love all The Mummy films and really enjoyed Castlevania (s3 excluded, we do not perceive that) as well! 

5. Ah, mod survival simulator pt. 3

Alright, let’s go!  I don’t have a WIP because again, words hard, but like, considering how feral I am when not tryna seem professional hm... 

The Goodfellows: I wanna say a solid 7/10 because I’d hardcore vibe with the Traveler and probably instigate so much nonsense. I can also bribe with blueberry cake so maybe. 

Creature’s Cradle: maybe a 4/10 and only because of pure spite keeping me alive long enough to smack someone. I’ve prepared for hypothetical  zombie apolcapyses and I won’t hesitate to bap, but will be bapped back because I’m weak as hell. 

Greater Than Gods: a toss up between 2/10 and 7/10! I can vibe and be chill but I also have terrible impulse control so... 

Vardir: hm....I think pretty good survival rates all around? If you ask me to fight then like, okay sure, your knees are mine. So maybe a 8/10? 

When it Hungers: .......8/10 just because I’d refuse to die if I can be a cool creature. Living for the aesthetic can and will drag me outta hell. But I’m also clumsy as hell so I’d probably crash as a porcelain or hold a rooster and perish (aka, real rating is a good 3/10) 

Orthall Bay: 2/10, nope. Nope I’d be taken out in a heartbeat. Monsters can go pspsps and I’d head straight into the dark creepy forest like a fool if someone comes @ me. Half the time I’ll just assume it’s sfx makeup and vibe until it’s too late. 

god, never put me in a universe where I cannot squawk like a bird and throw pebbles from a window. Oof

Anon, you're so sweet! I give you a forehead smoomch <333 As for your questions...

1. If I'm not writing, I'm usually watching video essays on Youtube. My go-to channels as of right now is Disrupt and Aperture! I just really like their videos. Aside from that, I recently got into podcasts. Currently going through Hello From The Hallowoods and Shelter and Warning, which are made by queer creators!

2. Oh oof, there's quite a bit so I'm just gonna put down one thing. For some reason, I really got into collecting tiny astronaut things? I recently bought this astronaut desk light, and I've got a package coming in for the miniatures I ordered. No purpose for them other than I think they're neat <3

3. I'm a bit private with my music taste (even tho I have Spotify connected on Discord lmao), but there's 5 songs that I'm currently obsessed with. I keep replaying them over and over again. Just squeezing all the serotonin I could get outta them.

4. I can't really say I have a fave TV show or movie because I can't really just pick one, but my current fave is 9-1-1 and Resident Alien. 9-1-1 because I just really love the found-family dynamics and how the show tackles sensitive topics, and Resident Alien because it's lighthearted comedy. My all-time fave movie is Flipped! I have the book too and I like rereading from time to time <3

5. You're in for a doozy, anon, because we're rating each other's games <333

The Goodfellows: 7/10

Listen. Shenanigans with the Traveler. I would get up to so many of them and that is what'll get me possibly bodied, not the actual environment itself <3

Greater than Gods: 7/10

I like to think I have enough common sense to uhhh not recklessly flip stones that should not be flipped <3 I'm a cautious and skeptic person irl so I think I'll hold up well? Then again, it's a vast environment change and while I can adapt pretty quick, I wouldn't like the lack of control in the unknown.

Vardir: 10/10

Going off what Cruz said, Vardir is lighthearted and focused on personal growth so I think I'll be okay! Self-growth here I come, babey!

Creatures' Cradle: 8/10

Maybe I'm overestimating myself, but I think I'll be able to survive in a supernatural post-apocalyptic world! Ah, but it depends on the motivation though. I like the idea of rebuilding communities and eventually societies, but the survival turmoil would be a constant battle I'd have to overcome. If we're talking survival itself though, I think I'll do well.

When it Hungers: 8/10

That's probably my wishful thinking but I think I'll be fine. Maybe. Possibly. Don't like the idea of being regulated by an organization so if I was a non-human creature that could pose a problem but I can roll with it <3

Orthall Bay: 6/10

Assuming I'm not playing as MC, my chances of survival uhhh changes quite drastically. Not enough to guarantee an untimely demise, but certainly enough that it would constantly keep me on my toes. I think that's the safest answer I can get without spoiling anything lmao

Thank you so much for asking! It's super sweet of you <3

1. Too many :'D I knit, I sew, I do carpentry (well, learning), I bake, I'm hammering away at HTML and CSS, my job kind of encourages learning new things and I take that to picking up new hobbies!

2. My time is kind of consumed with school work and work work and WIP work so not a lot of time to pursue niche interests right now. I've been watching a lot of horror game playthroughs, true crime youtubers, and an adorable show on Netflix called the Repair Shop <3

3. My taste in music is "what am I vibing with atm?" I've been listening to a lot of 80's music atm (don't @ me), but also Lo Fang and Kaleo, and whatever spotify recommends me on my discover weekly which is usually complete chaos.

4. I love the Mummy even though it hasn't aged 100% well (I'm a librarian, of course it's one of my gotos LOL), Legally Blonde, Leverage, Jumanji (the original), I'm....very bad at having recent tastes... and very bad at remembering my favorites when asked.

5.

The Goodfellows: I'm a creature of comfort, 5/10 if I can just luxuriate in town and not actually interact with the story sfjkdbsdkf

Creature’s Cradle: I'd like to think I have a 50/50 shot XD 5/10, I want to think I'd be decent at a zombie apocalypse but ultimately would suffer an early fate.

Greater Than Gods: 10/10 if I'm just vibing, less so if I'm involved in the actual story XD

Vardir: I'd still suffer without technology but I can also knit for a living in this world so I'm down 8/10

When it Hungers: I feel like I could vibe here, there's tech if dated, hot showers, telephones are around by now... might still get bored. 7/10 though it'd be cool to be another creature....I should make a 'what creature of snv are you' quiz!

Orthall Bay: 7/10 idk I feel like after the first monster of the week I'd just skip town XDDDD I'm the worst protagonist, I see danger I just leave.

[normal-piece-of-shit]

The Fallen

Timothy Drake-Wayne. Wayne Enterprise's current co-ceo, tech genius and somehow Red Robin. Also currently sprawled across his mess of a bed, half asleep with a half finished coffee cup loosely held in one hand.

Guess he’d just have to add “Professional disaster in life” to his list of oh-so great achievements.

He could have become a doctor, Alfred would've said.

But it was too late now. It was to be left in the past, he’d become too old and-

Knock, knock, said the door.

“Master Timothy.”

He snuggled deeper into his blankets and gave of a noise of acknowledgment to give away his presence.

“I’m sure your blankets wouldn't despise you if you left for having breakfast.”

He groaned. “Maybe you're sure, but I'm not.” He mumbled bitterly, not one to dare speak against their family's only string of sanity.

He rolled his blanket over him and reluctantly slugged to the door in his best work style. Pretty impressive if you asked him.

Alfred opened the door having already guessed what he'd decided to do, he supposed. Alfred's lips twitched, trying not to break into a smile, he suspected.

Tim grinned. “Anything I can do for you, dearest Alfred?”

Alfred tilted his head downwards to look him in the eye, now no longer hiding a small smile. “Maybe wake up Miss Marinette as a favor to me, Master Timothy.”

Oh. Oh. Oho.

What exciting news.

“Anything for you Alfred.” Alfred's smile now turned into a sharp smirk.

“Even not skipping your breakfast?”

He averted his eyes. “I think beans snores are getting louder. I'd better wake her up soon.”

Tim didn't let Alfred speak another word, instead, rolling forward, forcing Alfred to take a step back.

And then he heard the snores. The one of a kind, Marinette only snores. And he jusy knew the door near him led to Marinette's. He grinned, maybe a bit more manically than he should've but never mind that now.

He pushed against her door and rolled his way in.

He took a deep breath.

“BEANIE.”

No response. He should've known.

“Adrien Agreste is waiting for you outside.”

She stirred. Aha! He had her all figured out, didn't he?

“He's in Paris, you coffee addict.” Her speech was slurred by sleep, and she showed no more signs of waking.

He rolled his eyes. “Look who's speaking.”

No response. Typical.

“I’m going to jump on you and make sure you feel all the weight of this ‘coffee addict’.”

“You can't do that wrapped in blankets.” She growled, snuggling into her blankets as if that would make him go away.

He didn't say anything. No, he couldn't say anything. Not when he was angling himself in the right direction for him to fall on her without messing his comfortable position.

Thump.

Marinette wheezed.

“Get.” She gasped. “Off.”

“What was that?” He asked like the innocent bastard he was, “You sound a little put of breath there, beanie.”

“You're not even that heavy.”

He pressed down harder. “What was that?”

“Why, you little-”

“I’m trying to sleep, you babies- oh. Oh. Oho.” They turned slowly to look at a smiling-too-much-right-now Jason.

And it wasn't surprising when the both of them were in sync as they said:

“Oh fuck.”

Jason's grin only widened at the declaration as he took a leap towards the two pour souls.

Now it was both him and beanie gasping for air. Not as fun to be on the receiving side.

“Jason, if I die, I will come back to haunt you.” Beanie grumbled, although it was barely comprehensible.

Jason pressed his weight on us harder. “Another thing crossed off my bucket list then, little pixie.”

“Jay, please spare me, you've already tried killing me enough times!” He was barely comprehensible too but it didn't matter. Not if we wanted to get out of this alive.

What was next? Someone else coming in and doing the same thing and the cycle never ending?

“I come to the mansion for one peaceful day and you ruin it first thing in the morn- oh.” He jinxed it. Oh boy. He jinxed it, didn't he? Why else would Dick show up right on sync with his thoughts?

“Oh. Oho.”

“DICK, NO-”

‘Twas too late.

Now it was three of them wheezing and coughing and gasping for air.

“Did you have to make three back flips as you came?” Jason asked for them both, being the only one with the energy to speak now.

“I'm a bat!” If he had to guess, Dick was grinning too much. “Of course I did!”

“What's with all this ruck-oh. Oh. Oho.”

“Please not again.” Nette pleaded weakly.

-2 minutes of instant karma later-

“This is all Tim’s fault.”

At this point he can't even guess who said it, but weak noises of agreements filled the room.

“It is,” He took another deep breath, “not my fault that-” Another hard breath, “-that all of you decided to stack up on us.”

“Well,” said Stephanie from the top (the lucky bat), “You're the only one agreeing to that here.”

“You can't blame me,” he snapped as best as he could with the limited breath, “For eight other people joining the stack. That's all on yourselves!”

The others above him- if he remembered correctly, Jason first, then Dick, Titus, Damian, Duke, Aunt Kate (Don't ask), Cass and Steph at the the top, all gave their own noisy protests.

“What's with all the screaming-?” Bruce's gruff voice came. “Oh.”

“Bruce, please, for once, don't.”

“Oh.”

“BRUCE.”

“Oho.”

“Maybe if we call him dad, he won't- OOF.” There went the rest of Stephanie's sentence. It'll be the only thing that'll be missed.

Marinette, poor Marinette, groaned from under. “All of you will wake up tomorrow with the worst morning and I'll make sure you do.”

And they did. All of them did. If the screams that erupted the next morning were anything to go by, of course.

---------

Happy New Year-

Jskdjdkskdkskskdksk, I may have vanished for a while *cough*months*cough* and will probably go vanishing for a little more while *cough*more months *cough*, but! For! Good! Reason!

Or maybe not but let's no go there-

This school year be kinda important academic wise so I be dedicating more time for that.

Ehe. Have this lil thing as a bye bye gift for now-

Wish y'all a better 2021 ٩(๑^w^๑)۶

Toodles (´∀｀)♡

[thatonetimetraveller]

Chapter 2 - Cin Vhetin - T’ad

22 BBY - 7955

Din woke slowly this time, the beeping of medical equipment audible through the helmet’s audio sensors. He could sense movement just outside his peripheral vision so he sat slowly taking care not to pull at his back… the constant ache of the old wound was gone. Alertness coming back to him as he remembered the disjointed events of the day prior. His mind was sluggish but at least he could think clearly, the too big helmet helping him stay grounded. He was 30 years in the past, in the child version of his body. He flexed his hands and stretched his back, he groaned in satisfaction. He hasn't been able to do that since the injury, his back was always too stiff. Yes, he was definitely smaller. The weight of his red robes registered and he sucked in a breath, he hadn't seen those robes since his parents’ death. He lifted the edge of it under his helmet and gave it a good sniff. Ka’ra, it smelled like Aq-Vetina, the rich earthy scent of his first parents still strong, mixed with the distinct smell of spices on the market. There were other smells too like ash and blood but for once he ignored those, basking in the memory of his birth parents.

The door opened and Helix walked in, datapad in hand. He glanced up when he sensed Din looking at him and gave him a gentle smile

“Hey, kid” Helix pulled up a stool beside the bed and sat, keeping himself relaxed. Din nodded in greeting the helmet wobbling on his head.

“Do you know where you are?” Helix asked gently and Din tried not to let his irritation show since he did attack them yesterday and his mind was still hazy

“A Republic cruiser” He answered and Helix nodded

“Good. Can you tell me the year?” Din paused just to make sure he got the date right since it’s been decades since he last used CRC

“7955” Helix gave him a gentle smile and stood and began to fiddle with one of the medical equipment in the room. Din watched him like a hawk when a thought occurred to him in his still sluggish mind.

“Did you drug me?” he asked suspiciously and Helix stilled and turned back to Din

“Yes. Some weak sedatives and a mild Force suppressant” Din furrowed his eyebrows at that

“Force suppressant?” Why would he need that? He doesn’t have magic like Grogu or the jetii. Helix hummed

“The General suggested it since you weren’t sleeping well” he explained but Din was even more lost

“What do my dreams have to do with magic osik?” He asked incredulously and Helix froze as a scanner clattered on the floor

“Kark” He swore as he gathered the dropped item, shaken; though how Din knew since Helix appeared perfectly composed was a mystery. He turned to Din muttering some curse under his breath then leveling Din with a serious look

“You don’t know?” he asked and Din was starting to get nervous that something was wrong with him

“Know what?” He tilted his head to the side in confusion. Helix closed his eyes in pain and sighed

“Can I comm the General? He would be more suited for this conversation” Din looked at Helix in shock, the short time he knew the medic he was always confident knowing what to say, taking control of the situation with ease. Anxiety rolled in his stomach, but his instincts weren’t giving him any bad vibes so he reluctantly nodded

“Sure,” he said. Helix jumped into action and keyed in the General’s frequency, he picked up a tense minute later

“General, there’s a problem in room 27” Helix said voice level and the comm was silent for agonizingly long seconds

“Copy that” Kenobi’s voice was on edge as he disconnected from the comm. Helix sat back on the stool

“It’s nothing bad, Beroya” He tried to soothe. Din raised an eyebrow and tilted his bucket with a snort filled with disbelief

“I’m not a child, you don’t have to coddle me” Helix sucked in a breath his eyes filling with pain

“Oh, right”

The door hissed open and Kenobi rushed in followed by Kote, Din relaxed at the sight of them.

“Is everything alright vod?” Kote asked in a harsh and caring voice. Helix stood, gave Kote a nod with a small smile, and turned to Kenobi

“General he uh… doesn’t know” Both of them looked at Helix in shock the medic did not hesitate - ever. Kenobi blinked in confusion, then his eyes settled over Din while Kote eyed Helix. Din was so confused. What doesn’t he know? It was something fundamentally big he managed to miss in over 40 years. He watched warily as Obi-Wan pulled another chair from the corner and sat, Kote settled on the edge of his bed patting his leg comfortingly.

“What did Helix tell you?” Obi-Wan asked and Din’s attention snapped to him

“I was given sedatives and a Force suppressant?” he furrowed his eyebrows “I was told it helped me sleep better” Din was plagued with nightmares and dreams that came true since he was a child. Sometimes they remained in his head as an eerie echo or other times they were weird and cryptic but they always came true and left him more exhausted than he should be when he woke. Strangely though when the goran gave his beskar buy’ce the intensity of the dreams lessened, she said it would help him.

“Yes, visions are taxing on your body and mental wellbeing so in extreme cases or with an untrained Force user, mild Force suppressants are given to limit your exposure. Don’t worry it shouldn’t interfere with your connection to the Force too much” Kenobi gave him a reassuring smile and panic was rising violently in Din despite the sedatives.

“General, I think you went a bit too fast” Kote commented, his voice heavy with barely concealed sarcasm but Din could tell he was laughing on the inside. Din’s mind was blank, his hands were shaking

“I-I don’t understand. My dreams… I … have jetii magic? Neret’yc” he mumbled and grabbed the sides of his helmet with his shaking hands caught in his own feedback loop of panic and confusion

“Oh dear,” Obi-Wan mumbled while Kote scrambled off the bed and knelt in front of him gently prying his hands away from the bucket.

“Gar morut’yc” He whispered. Din slowly came down from the panic, his mind still an anxious mess but he could think again. He really should stop losing control like that. It was like his usual controls were gone and everything felt more powerful than usual, including his own emotions. It was exhausting and humiliating still, he thanked Kote and turned back to Obi-Wan who looked at him sheepishly.

“I’m sorry, Beroya. I shouldn’t have dumped it onto you like that. I assumed you knew” Discomfort weighed heavy on his heart at the apology but before he could say anything Helix whacked Kenobi on the back of his head. He let out a quiet oof. Terror spiked in Kote as he stared in shock

“Di’kut. That’s why I called you here” Helix snipped, then his face morphed into horror as his words registered and at Kenobi’s bewildered stare “Sir” he added as he straightened fearfully

“I deserved that one” Obi-Wan smiled and patted Helix on the arm. Once the General conceded, Kote burst into giggles, his lingering fear also disappearing from his shoulders. Helix glowered at him

“So… I have jetii magic?” Din asked before the vode could start a fight. Obi-Wan grimaced

“The Force but yes” Din hummed processing the information trying to put the two separate boxes of jetii osik and Mando’ade together without much success. There was something missing.

“What I want to know is how did Beroya miss this for over 30 odd years?” Kote interjected and he had a point. Obi-Wan stroked his beard in thought

“Many Force sensitive adults don’t know as the Force doesn’t always manifest with telekinesis, it could be good instincts, faster reaction time, better aim, visions of the future in dreams or just a heightened sense of empathy” Obi-Wan explained. Din looked down at his hand curiously

“I thought I always had good instincts” he mumbled “It feels different now though” Kote’s eyes snapped to his bucked in alarm, Helix’s hand tightening on his arm to keep him in place

“How?” Obi-Wan probed. Din, shrugged

“Clearer and louder. I… out of control” he said, words failing to convey the difference. Obi-Wan sucked in a breath

“Are you shielding, young one?” Din tilted his head in confusion

“I can protect my mind?” He asked innocently and Obi-Wan’s hand returned to his beard in thought then his eyes lit up in understanding

“Was your beskar’gam made of beskar?” he asked and Din bristled

“Of course it was,” he said with a little pride in his voice, his armor was his life after all. Obi-Wan tongue clicked

“Beskar blocks the Force. There are special alloys with a lower concentration of beskar made for Force sensitives”

“It does? But then why would…” It occurred to him that his dreams weren’t as severe when he slept with his buy’ce.

“Val ru’kar’taylir bal ru’ne’vaabir rejorhaa’ir ni'' They knew and did not tell me he murmured in disbelief. Why didn’t she tell him or make him a better beskar’gam? The stab of betrayal spread through his veins, his back aching in phantom pain. He wanted to throw something, anger bubbling up in him like lava, hot and dangerous. Kote placed a hand on his and the lava flowed into Kote leaving him empty

“It’s alright. I’m sure they had a reason” He said but the simmering outrage inside Kote remained. Grogu, the Empire wanted them for the same reason, maybe she was protecting him. The sting of lies and betrayal faded to a throb as he thought it over

“The Empire wanted Force sensitive children,” he said, his voice empty. It made sense now. Obi-Wan sucked in a sharp breath in pain.

“Are you alright?” Din asked and Obi-Wan nodded though he was still massaging his temple, his blue eyes found Din’s through the visor.

“How about I teach you how to shield? You might not feel as overwhelmed as much” he suggested and Din stared at him

“I can’t be a jetii, I’m a Mando’ad” He declared, his heart conflicted. The wrongness of becoming a jetii an enemy of Mandalore and his ingrained fear of his new and unknown powers conflicted with the instinct - that may or may not be the Force - telling him that it’s right, almost nudging towards that path. His thoughts flickered back to the confusing jetii’kad that Grogu gave him, the blade felt like a part of himself.

oOo

9 ABY - 7986

The Razor Crest was floating in empty space while Din tried to get his bearings and figure out potential allies after the mess on Nevarro. Rage boiled within him at the thought of that demagolka Gideon wanted his child. He sighed, lifted his helmet just enough to pinch the bridge of his nose when the cries of the child registered. They were their usual ‘I want attention’ cries but this time they were quite forceful and determined. Din set a course to a random backwater planet and jumped the Crest into hyperspace. The child was wailing now so Din climbed down the ladder to see what they wanted.

The child was sitting on a box, regarding him with intelligent eyes. Not a sign of their earlier distress

“What’s wrong adi’ka?” he asked as he stepped closer to examine them. Fierce determination radiated from their posture as their face adorably scrunched up in concentration

“Protect” Din sucked in a breath at the sudden thought that entered his mind, it was definitely not his. He sank down to the floor in shock and regarded the ad in wonder, his hands shook.

“That… that was you adi’ka?” he asked, his voice giddy with excitement. He finally had a way to communicate with the child to understand them, love swelled inside his chest. The child huffed in annoyance and concentrated some more

“PROTECT” They shouted in his head and Din’s mind almost ripped in half from the force of it. He took a steadying breath and held up a hand to stop the ad from doing it again but louder. A headache was beginning to form

“Alright, adi’ka. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to protect you” he said regret filling his voice. What kind of a Mandalorian can’t protect a child? The ad mewled in irritation cutting off Din’s destructive thoughts and pointed a shaky claw at him while glaring at him like it was his fault for not understanding. It was adorable and Din’s heart melted at the sight. Din furrowed his eyebrows in confusion once he puzzled out the message the child wanted to convey

“You want to protect me?” he asked in mild horror. The child smiled and nodded vigorously, ears flopping around like a dog as they began to shuffle around. Din’s heart ached in sorrow at their lost innocence

“Oh, cyar’ika” he breathed out, failing to keep his emotions out of his voice “I can protect myself. It’s not your responsibility,” he said as he gently reached out to lay a comforting hand on their shoulder. The ad’s big dark eyes gazed at him with confusion their ears down turning before scrunching up their nose in determination

“Promised” Din tightened his hand in worry and sighed

“Who?” The child gazed at him with sad yet knowing eyes as they pointed another shaky claw in his direction and Din recoiled in shock

“Me? I - I would never ask you to promise anything like that” he said incredulously he would never burden a child with such a promise. The ad’s eyes turned somber at that, their expression the most serious he’s ever seen and it disturbed him to his core. What has this child gone through?

“Too young” They declared their ears drooping with exhaustion and through the haze of confusion Din reached out to steady them. What did they mean he was too young? His mind was filled with more questions than answers from this strange conversation with the child. They finally pulled a cylindrical object out of the many folds of their robe and pressed it into Din’s hand

“Gift” they whispered weakly in his mind before collapsing in his arms. Din stared at the child, sleeping peacefully and then the object in his hand.

“Oh adi’ka what have you gotten yourself into?” he said voice laced with barely suppressed pain before leaning down and pressing his forehead to theirs

“Vor entye adi’ka” he murmured before tugging the snoring bundle into their hammock and shutting the door.

He studied the cylindrical object in his hand. It looked like a hilt of a weird sword, at the top four metal pieces were surrounding the inner part of the hilt like a crown. There was a band of shiny metal that appeared to be beskar curving around the middle of the hilt, two small buttons were nested on the side of the band. Below the dark leather grip at the bottom of the hilt was a cap painted vibrant orange. The leather was worn and fraying in some places and the beskar had some scorch marks on it.

He gripped the hilt and it slid into his hand perfectly, with a burning curiosity he thumbed one of the buttons. The sudden hum and light had him almost dropping the weapon. An orange blade materialized out of the hilt humming with glee and lighting up the interior of the hull with a soft orange glow. Din stared at the weapon with shock, he hadn’t seen anything like it in his life but strangely the weapon seemed to recognize him. It was singing to him Din realized, happiness pouring out of the weapon in waves, how he knew he had no clue. He gave it a slow experimental swing entranced by its joyful orange glow. It was strange the blade itself had no weight so his balance was off and he gave it another swing. The blade cut through the air fluidly humming with delight. Giddiness bubbled up inside him as he gave the weapon a good twirl. The blade hummed with the joy of long lost friends reuniting and Din laughed with the blade. Beeping broke Din out of his feedback loop of happiness barely loud enough over the humming of the blade. Din sighed, gifted the blade one last twirl and gave it a long longing look then thumbed the off switch. The blade died down leaving the room oddly dark and quiet. Emptiness he didn’t notice before registered for the first time in his life. He clipped the hilt to his belt and climbed up to the cockpit just as the Razor Crest lurched out of hyperspace.

oOo

22 BBY - 7955

Someone was talking through the haze that surrounded Din. His memory was clearing and he was in the medical bay of an unknown ship. He blinked in confusion

“Beroya?” The man at the end of the bed asked his brows drawn in concern. The ginger man placed a hand on his, Din jumped

“Did you have a vision?” He asked. His head cleared slowly; he was on a Republic ship, he was 44 in the body of his 12 year old self and he had the Force. Kote was at the end of his bed sat by his leg, Helix was standing behind Kenobi the jetii who just offered to train him. He sighed

“No, just a memory,” He thought back to the vivid memory he just remembered, he had a jetii’kad. Did he get one in the past? Did he give it to Gorgu? Why didn’t he keep it? He stared at his hands in confusion

“Beroya, teaching you how to shield doesn’t mean you have to become a Jedi,” Kenobi said reading his doubts, Helix hummed behind him. Din lifted his head and gazed at Obi-Wan

“But I have the Force?”

“There are many sentients who have the Force and are not Jedi”

“Oh,” he was quickly realizing that knew so little about all of the Force osik stuff. Right now, despite his instincts insistence otherwise, he did not want to abandon his Mandalorian heritage but he needed training to understand his powers better and to be able to protect himself when push comes to shove. He looked at Kenobi his helmet wobbling on his head

“I’ll accept your offer” Kenobi sighed in relief and Kote patted his leg, pride radiating off of him. Kenobi turned to Kote

“Cody make sure everything is set up” Kote nodded, gave Din a smile, and left the room Helix leaving with him

Kenobi gestured for him to stand and sit opposite him on the floor

“So, have you meditated before, young one?” Obi-Wan asked once Din had settled into a comfortable position. He shook his head

“Close your eyes and feel the Force around you. Take a deep breath through your nose and let it out slowly” Din followed Obi-Wan’s instructions calming his mind and letting the familiar yet unfamiliar feeling of the Force into him and wash over him. He gasped, he could feel Obi-Wan sitting across from him, his mind similarly calm but he was the brightest presence on the ship. He could also feel Helix shuffling around with some medical equipment next door and the thousands of different yet similar beings on the ship all glowing in his mind’s eye and moving through their duties like a well-oiled machine. He could pick out Kote’s light from among the rest, he was a warm, strong and steadfast presence, the one he would associate with a good leader or parent.

“Good, now imagine laying a wall between yourself and the rest,” Obi-Wan murmured from the outside, barely audible. Din slowly began building the wall in his mind, brick by brick reinforcing it with beskar along the way. Gradually the lights dimmed and their emotions that he’s been picking up quieted to a hum. His own emotions, now easier to separate, were clearer and easier to control from the absence of thousands of other emotions. He felt Obi-Wan pull away so he slowly climbed his way to consciousness. He blinked his eyes open, his chest lighter since he woke up in the past. He breathed out a sigh of relief. And his stomach rumbled. Obi-Wan who was already on his feet smiled good naturedly at Din and held out a hand, Din grabbed it and let him pull him to his feet.

“Vor’e” He thanked Obi-Wan

The door swished open and Helix walked with Kote right behind him carrying a big bag in his hand. Din tilted his head in question, putting a hand on his helmet to stop it from banging against his skull. Obi-Wan smiled at Kote.

“Oh good, you’ve got it” Kote grinned with excitement, his presence enveloping Din. He looked at the bag curiously as he sat back on the bed, legs swinging in anticipation. Kote hefted the bag onto the bed with a low grunt.

“We did the best we could,” Kote said as Din peered into the bag. His heart stopped. There was a whole set of beskar’gam made out of plastoid in the bag. He picked up the buy’ce cradling it in his hands in wonder tracing the edge of the T-visor with his finger. The design was like the armor Kote and his brothers wore but smaller, tailored to his size. He placed the buy’ce aside then lifted each piece out with care and wonder, each piece was snow white - Cin Vhetin - the color of a new beginning, it was fitting he mused silently. He laid them out on the bed in the traditional way he was taught as a child, admiring the full set.

“You could paint it if you want to,'' Helix suggested as he stood behind him. Din tilted his head in thought he never felt the need to paint his armor, then when he got the full beskar set and it didn’t feel right to paint it, the unpainted beskar showing his penance for almost becoming dar’buir. Now though he could imagine the swirling patterns of various designs on the white surface.

“I’ll think about it” he murmured then he hesitated for a moment before turning to Kote. “Uh… could you leave?” He asked and embarrassment coated his voice, Kote nodded in understanding and they quietly left the room. Once the door was shut behind them Din unclipped his red robe, folded it neatly and set it aside, and pulled on the black flight suit that came with the armor. Then he clipped each piece on with familiar ease of weaning armor his entire life and tightened the belts where he felt the plastoid slack. It fit surprisingly well to his new thin lanky frame. The plastoid was lighter and more flexible than his beskar of his previous beskar’gam and he’ll have to adjust to that. He gripped the helmet in his hands and stared at his new face with an odd sense of disappointment, something wasn’t quite right with it but he couldn’t figure out what. Still, it would be better than Kote’s too big bucket that wobbled precariously every time he moved his head. He lifted the bucket off his face and glanced around expecting the room to transform into an Imperial cell but it stayed mostly the same. Not wanting to chance another episode he placed his new buy’ce on his head. The slight hiss as it connected was a comfort he forgot he needed, he sighed as he finally felt safe in his own skin. He knocked on the door harshly to signal Kote and the others that he was done. Kote and Helix walked in and Din tilted his head in confusion

“Where’s Kenobi?” Helix shrugged

“He had to go up to the bridge since we’ll be rendezvousing with the 501st soon” he explained and Kote mock glared at his brother. Din held out Kote’s bucket and he grabbed it his hands shaking slightly

“Vor entye, Kote,” He said gratefully as tears prickled in the corner of his eyes. The warmth from Kote grew as it enveloped him like a hug. He beamed at him while Helix looked between them with a confused frown.

“You’re welcome Beroya” He clapped him on the shoulder still grinning

“How about we grab some food,” he said as he dragged him out of the room he’s been in the past few days. Din’s heart sped up.

“I can leave?” he asked with confusion. He was under the impression that he was a prisoner even if he was a nicely treated one. Helix who was following behind them sucked in a breath

“Of course you can,” he said with some incredulity. Din shrugged half heartedly

“I thought since I attacked your men that I would be a prisoner” He had to keep a tight hold on his new and fragile shields so as to not get swept away by the violent flood of Kote’s and Helix’s emotions.

“Well, at first you were” Kote admitted scratching the back of his neck and Helix shot him a look

“Oh” Din sighed, Kote held up a dramatic hand

“But! You were hallucinating and you apologized and you haven’t given us reason to treat you a prisoner since” Kote explained hastily and warmth spread across Din, he hummed and examined the hallway to distract himself from the strange emotion. The hallways, while similar to an Imperial ship at a first glance, had enough of a different feel to them that Din could differentiate the two. Troopers were walking about hurrying to their destination, some gave Kote a salute and smile, while others did a double take at the sight of Din. Their stares did not affect him since he was used to them when he had the full beskar beskar’gam. There were a few who huddled together and whispered something to the others, no doubt the gossip train had started already. Din sighed, the gossip amongst the Covert was bad since most of them never left the sewers of Nevarro but it may reach a new level of horrible since he was the center of the latest gossip.

They arrived at the mess hall quicker than he expected. Clones were in large groups around the tables, their chatter and the clatter of utensils echoed throughout the entire room. The tables were long white and organized into neat rows though some of the benches were askew and the shouts of rowdy bunch cut through the background noise. Din’s mind tried to puzzle out a way to escape eating but Kote grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the cue, once he realized Din was lingering in the doorway. Din sighed. He stared at the small selection of food, mostly ration bars and some instant meals that were even less appetizing.

“Don’t tell me you’re just as bad at eating regularly as the General,” Helix joked from next to him. Din did eat less than he should. The fact that he couldn’t remove his helmet in most establishments and that he was reluctant to spend more than the bare minimum on food since most of the money went to the Covert and the foundlings - all of that meant that he skipped a few meals here or there. Helix raised an eyebrow at him, a mean scowl on his face at Din’s silence.

“Well, I-” he began to explain himself when Helix held up a hand

“The Force and meditation are not adequate replacements for food and sleep damn it!” Helix ranted as stacked 5 ration bars and some goop onto the tray, Kote snickered

“General Kenobi would argue,” he said with a smile

“The General can kiss my shebs” Helix grumbled with some ire and Din blushed then he remembered Helix’s earlier words

“The Force can be used that way?” he asked in wonder, wishing he knew a better way to stay awake at the countless long sleepless nights he had while hunting. Helix whirled around pointing a finger in his face with a glare, scowl still present

“Forget I said anything” He declared dramatically with a long sigh. Kote was snickering in the background while Helix kept grumbling to himself. Din followed after them knowing that he won’t lose them since he could pick out Kote’s warm presence in the crowd but it felt better to keep them in sight

“I only ate enough to sustain myself because the Covert needed the rest of the credits,” He said the urge to explain himself to Kote and Helix was strong. They reached a relatively empty table and Helix pushed the tray of food towards him as soon as they sat down. He stared at the food with trepidation and Helix sighed

“There is no shortage of food here Beroya” Helix gestured to the food, chewing on a ration bar himself “So eat” Din sighed

“I can’t” He bit out after a moment of hesitation. Helix and Kote exchanged a concerned look and he got the distinct impression of Kote wanting to hug him

“Why not?” Kote asked. Din looked down shamefully at his hands, he already broke the Creed several times first to save Grogu but that was fine since foundlings came above all else. But now so many people had seen him, not just without his buy’ce but without his beskar’gam so can he even be called a Mando’ad? Who was he if not a Mandalorian? His thoughts circled around that question so he clung to the traditions that would reject him in a vain attempt to define himself

“I can’t remove the helmet,” He said, eyes still locked on his hands. He felt the spike of concern, irritation, and shock from Kote

“Who told you that?” his voice was low and angry though not directed at him still he flinched slightly

“No one. This is the Way” he echoed, the once comforting words felt wrong and hollow coming from his mouth.

“The Way?” Helix asked his voice returning to the gentle prod he used earlier when he thought he was dreaming

“The Way of the Mandalore. I can’t remove my helmet in front of any living being or I become dar’manda”

“But you didn’t have a helmet before Cody gave you his” Helix’s voice was gentle and he could feel Kote stewing next to him

“Exactly, I already broke the Creed” He couldn’t say it out loud that would make it real and he was already hollow and directionless. The Covert would certainly not accept him back now if he could even find them

“That’s bantha shit!” Kote exploded and Din’s head snapped up to him

“What?” He whispered and his voice shook in bewilderment

“You just didn’t have a helmet when you got here! What if someone removed your helmet if you got captured? What are you supposed to do then?” Kote ranted “Besides, having a helmet does not make you Mandalorian. Then the vode wouldn’t be Mando’ade” His face was red from anger, Helix nodded along a similar expression of outrage on his face and Din stared at them in shock. Anger not directed at him radiated off of the both of them. Din’s heart swelled with an unknown emotion as he looked back at his food

“I…” he was at a loss for words as Kote deflated

“I’m still not comfortable removing the helmet,” he declared after a moment of silence. His mind whirling with shock. Both of them nodded in understanding

“We understand Beroya” Helix said

“But if you ever feel comfortable enough know that we won’t judge you” Kote finished. His heart squeezed in gratitude and warmth filled him, Din ducked his head.

Kote and Helix returned to their bland meal and Din glanced around the noisy mess hall. Troopers were talking boisterously, some slapping each other on the shoulder or arm as a show of comredradie. He spotted a few not so subtly ogling him but he ignored them. They felt happy and unrestrained. So when the back of his neck prickled with the usual sense of danger Din was taken aback and whirled around a second too late. The punch landed squarely on his bucket, rattling his head for a moment. The trooper had no paint on their armor and sported a mean scowl on his face, Kote sprang up from his seat growling at the trooper

“Slick, what the hell do you think you are doing?” Slick ignored his commanding officer and only sneered at the stunned Din anger rolling off of him in waves.

“You attack our men and then you have the audacity to wear our armor!” He said with disgust. The easy going chatter around them died down to a hushed whisper as everyone stared at them. Kote walked up to Slick with a furious expression and his voice was barely restrained, hard with the promise of violence

“Stand down Sergeant” He ordered. The order fell on deaf ears as Slick glared at Kote with no fear besides the tide of righteous anger

“No sir” he ground out “Don’t you see that he’s just another nat-born pretending to like us, to be one of us” He gestured to the rest of the clones

“Ni ceta” Din apologized as he stood, wobbling slightly on his legs. Slick sneered

“Oh, now he speaks our language too.” His voice was heavy with sarcasm “What’s next? You gonna paint your armor like us too? Is stealing our language and freedom not enough for you?” Slick accused loudly venom filling his voice and being

“Stand down Sargeant! That’s an order!” Kote bellowed his voice echoing throughout the silent mess hall. Din straightened feeling the anger rise in him at the unwarranted accusations

“I am a Mando’ad and I do not steal anyone’s freedom” He declared his voice steady and sure, his earlier doubts gone for the moment.

“Yeah, right” Slick huffed and raised his hand for another punch. Kote had enough and with a swift move restrained Slick bending his arm around his back painfully. He gestured for two clones their armor painted orange and handed the seething Slick over to them

“Maybe a few hours in the brig will teach you a lesson” He nodded to the two clones who dragged Slick away who was still glowering at Din with hatred.

“Alright boy fun’s over” Kote declared to the spectators and the rest of the troopers slowly returned to their meals though the chatter was more subdued than before

Kote sank back into his seat with a tired sigh and Din followed soon after. His mind still reeling at the pure hatred Slick directed his way like he was the cause of all of his problems. But before he could ask Kote why Slick hated him so much, two clones sat at their table, one next to Kote and one next to Din. Kote sighed in irritation and glared at the two clones while Helix snickered

“Waxer, Boil, what are you doing here?” Kote asked, his voice and posture tired with all the bantha shit that happened since Din left his room. Waxer was looking at him wearily from across the table and Din tilted his head in question. Boil, appearing to not have the same hesitation looped an arm around Din’s shoulder and grinned at him. Both Din and Waxer tensed.

“So you’re the verdi’ka who beat up Waxer,” he said with a good humored smile, Din tensed his shoulders. Kote gave a long suffering sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, and Din opened his mouth to apologize again

“If you’re here to cause trouble...” Kote began

“Oh, we’re not assholes like Slick” Waxer chuckled relaxing slightly, Boil grinned and nudged Din

“Waxer was just too scared to ask the verd’ika for a rematch,” Boil said with a sly smile. Waxer rose and hit Boil across the table his face red with embarrassment

“I’m not!” he squeaked out, Kote tried to wrangle the two brothers to calm down and Helix was outright cackling now while Din stared at the chaotic scene in confusion.

“Why?” he blurted out and the chaos around the table as they stared at him. Waxer seeming to overcome his fear looked at him

“Because you’re good and it’s nice to spar with someone new,” He said earnestly

“Hear, hear” Boil chanted as he lifted his drink. Din looked at them both finding his instincts or the Force were telling him that they weren’t lying so Din agreed with a nod

“Sweet, sparring room 5 after the mission?” Waxer said vibrating in his seat with excitement

“Calm down vod’ika” Helix chastised and Din shrugged his heart soaring at the thought of a good spar since all his recent fights had been life or death situations, it’ll be nice to let out some steam.

“Sure” he agreed with a hidden smile. Waxer cheered, Boil rolled his eyes in fondness and then they soon left after that whispering amongst themselves in excitement. Kote turned to Helix with a raised eyebrow

“You were batchmates with them right?” Helix grinned mischief entering his eyes

“Yeah Waxer and Boil were always a chaotic duo”

“Batchmates?” Din asked curiously both of them tensed and stilled, fear spiking in them for a second but then it was replaced by humor again

“Batchmates grew up together, they were usually decanted in the same batch of 5” Helix explained, Kote was still tense though

“Like brothers,” Din said

“All the clones are vode but yes in a way batchmates are closer” There was a smile in Helix’s voice and Kote seemed to shrink in on himself a haunted look crossing his eyes but before Din could ask if he was alright his comm beeped with a message. Kote grinned and stood all, his fear disappearing instantly, Din tilted his head curiously

“Come on Rex’ika will be here soon,” He said with mirth, Helix stood and Din followed. Helix tossed him a ration bar with a scowl, Din fumbled to catch it

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you haven’t eaten today” he grumbled and Din gulped. Instead of answering he redirected the conversation away from himself

“Rex’ika?” he asked as he followed Kote since he wasn’t told to go back to the medical room

“My vod’ika” Kote grinned “He’d love to meet you”

“Really?”

“The 501st and General Skywalker are a rowdy bunch so I’m sure you’ll fit right in,” Helix said with a grin. Din paused, stunned the jetii who took Grogu away was younger than him so he shouldn’t be here unless he was near human and aged slower. Din snapped out of his musings when he felt the presence of Kote and Helix move away, he jogged to catch up with them.

“General Skywalker?” He asked a bit winded, Helix chuckled at that

“He is one of the best Generals in the GAR besides Kenobi” he added at Kote’s mock glare

“His plans may seem reckless but he has the fewest losses in the entire army. Rex is certainly not bored under him” Kote said with a proud smile

“At least he doesn’t lose his lightsaber every other battle” Helix teased, Kote sighed in exasperation

“Don’t remind me” he grumbled, Din watched in fascination. Helix left for the medbay about halfway to the hangar. They arrived at the hangar soon after that. It was busy, the engines of the landing LAATs and shuttles deafening, hundreds of troopers all decked out in blue armor were milling about the place, chattering amongst each other and greeting the troopers with orange paint enthusiastically. Kenobi was in the middle of the action directing the troopers and the landing crafts. But before they could reach him a clone with a blue pauldron and jaig eyes painted on his helmet approached them. Kote grinned

“Rex’ika” he exclaimed and enveloped the clone in a hug, relief flowing through him, the blue clone returned the hug just as enthusiastically. Once they finished greeting each other Rex glanced behind Kote where Din was standing suspicion in his frame

“Cody who’s this?” He gestured to Din, Kote grinned

“This is Beroya. We picked him up on Aq-Vetina” Kote introduced him proudly and Rex did a double take

“Beroya? I thought you took a shiny under your wing, not a cadet” Rex said his voice filled with incredulity, and Din bristled

“He’s nat-born Rex’ika,” Cody said with a glare to challenge Rex’s protest. Alas Rex was too oblivious to notice

“Why is he here and why is he wearing our armor?” There was no disgust or contempt in his voice instead he radiated confusion as he stared at Din, Kote shrugged

“Because he needed one and General Kenobi wanted him here” Din stared at Kote with a raised eyebrow as he sensed Kenobi approaching with a man behind him. The man was so bright, like a supernova it took him a second of squinting under the helmet’s sensors to really make out his features. He was tall and imposing, growing messy brown hair and wearing black battle armor and robes.

Din staggered back as the image of the man was replayed in his head. Suddenly he wasn’t in the hangar. He was in a large temple, tall spires casting long shadows in the dark night. Everything was dark and muddy even the air was suffocating, heavy with death and tragedy. Terror sliced through him as the screams of the ade tore through the peaceful setting. Blue flashed across the dark sky before another life joined the thousands screaming in agony. The dark robed demon cut through the children with ease, his golden eyes flashing with hatred and fury.

The temple morphed around him with sickening ripples. He was clutching something important to his chest running as fast as he could. Run away. Protect. Hide. He kept chanting. The shadows around him grew, eating up the low light of the moon leaving behind nothing but cold dead darkness. Out of the darkness, the demon materialized, golden eyes dead to the world yet filled with bottomless hatred. Blue flashed across the hall and orange rose just barely to meet it. The colors clashed, their usual magnificent harmony tainted just out of tune. Blue left and with vicious force came down on the weakening orange again and again like a rabid dog. Another violent clash, the orange now sluggish waning in the darkness that surrounded them. Still, it rose to meet every single violent strike with determination. Then the blue cut through the orange with a brutal strike. It fell into two on the ground. The orange light died out with last pathetic sparks. The darkness eating it alive

Din cried out in terror.

[spicedcinnamoncake]

Shy Guy             pairing: George Weasley x Reader summary: George was usually confident with love, but there is something about Y/N that makes his heart stop TW: fluff, angst (a bit)💖❤ 1.5K words

  George looked at you from across the great hall during dinner. You were sitting at the end of the Ravenclaw table with your friend Luna, tossing your head back in laughter. George smiled to himself. To him, your smile was the prettiest thing in the world. 

  Fred followed George’s eyeline, elbowing his brother. ‘Why don’t you just ask them out already Georgie? You’ve liked them for ages now. I don’t get it, you usually are quick to ask out anyone who catches your eye.’ 

  George gulped, his face turning red. Fred was right, George was usually so confident with asking people out. Why did he find you so difficult? 

  He turned to his  brother. ‘It’s nothing Fred, knock it off.’

  You caught his eyeline and smiled. George looked surprised, his face turning red. You were so special and unique, why would  a person like you want to go out with someone like him? You were smart, sensible, kind, not to mention extremely good looking. 

  He wanted nothing more then the feeling of your lips on his. He’s only ever managed to talk to you during charms class or in the hallways. Your lips looked so soft, and he craved the thought of kissing you. 

  Why did his heart speed up at the thought out you? His knees went weak whenever you were near. He talked to his friends about it but they always turned it into a joke. ‘Your lovesick Georgie’ Ginny teased, poking a finger into her older brothers shoulder. 

  Lovesick. Seemed about right. 

  George gazed at you a bit longer before he excused himself from the dining hall, needing to rest his mind. This little crush was getting out of hand. 

  You seemed to be on his mind from the moment he woke up to the second he fell asleep. He both hated and loved every second of it. 

  One day you were walking out of the library, books in hand, a tower of them, limiting your eyesight. You were keen to get the books to your dorm but halfway through you bumped into someone. ‘oof!’

  ‘Sorry! I-’ George stopped in his tracks when he saw who he collided with. You were on the floor, surrounded in fallen books and papers. George stuck out a hand and when you grasped it he thought his heart might burst. Your hand was warm and soft, the edges of your fingers rough from all the writing you do. 

  You looked up into his eyes, and he stared into yours. His eyes were shining, caramel brown tinted with embarrassment. George felt himself go red. ‘O-oh, hi Y/N.’ 

  He bent over and helped you collect your books. ‘I can help with these if you want.’ 

  You breathed a sigh of relief, splitting the pile of books between yourselves. ‘Thanks Georgie, I probably wouldn’t have made it all the way to my dorm if it weren’t for you.’ 

  George chuckled shyly, his face turning red. He clutched the books to his side as you two walked. You ended up laughing at one of his jokes and it made his heart flutter. 

  Once you reached the Ravenclaw common room’s door, you turned to George, giving him a cooked smile. ‘Would you maybe want to come inside? My dorm’s not far, just a quick visit is all.’

  George had to process this. You, ask, HIM, if he wanted to go with YOU to YOUR ROOM.

  Now, how could he refuse. ‘Sure, why not?’ 

  He may have looked content as he walked up the stairs with you, but his heart was racing and he felt the back of his neck begin to sweat. What would he say? What would he do? What would you say?

  You pulled the key out of your robe’s pocket and twisted it into the door, unlatching it and kicking it open with your boot. The room was small, yet pleasant. Two identical beds with dark blue covers and white pillows, a window on the wall between with deep blue curtains and a desk and dresser on each side wall. ‘Luna’s out, so it’s just us,’ you said, dumping the books on your bed. You sat down and took out the band in your hair, letting it loose. George goggled at it, so lush and pretty-looking. ‘Your hair’s pretty.’ He said, catching his tongue at the end. 

  You felt yourself blush. George too had turned a noticeably darker shade of pink as soon as the words came out. ‘Thanks.’ You said it shyly. You scooted over and pat the fabric next to you. ‘Wanna sit?’

  George gulped as he sat next to you. 

  He was blushing so hard in that moment. Here he was with the only person in the world who made his heart fly, alone, in their room and sitting next to them. 

  Could this day get any better?

  You two talked for what seemed like hours. George started to open up more, and he quickly fell comfortable around you. You made his heart skip beats, and he made you flare up in all shades of pink and red. 

  The dinner bell rang, departing you from your conversation about quidditch. ‘There’s the bell, already! Dang how long have we been here?’ You asked, pulling your boots back on. ‘Guess you should get going.’ 

  ‘Aw, kicking me out already?’ he joked, giving you a crooked smile.

 ‘Aw, missing me already?’

  That surely shut him up. You smirked as he slid sheepishly towards the door, a dangerously visible blush creeping across his freckled cheeks. ‘See you soon.’ he said as he edged out. You sat up and walked over, catching him by his shoulder. ‘Hey Georgie?”  

   “Ye-..!’ 

  You brought his lips to your own for a split second before you pulled away, just as quickly as it started it stopped. You looked up at his bewildered face, grinning. ‘Swing by tomorrow, same time. Bye for now.’ 

  And with that, you slid back into your dorm, shutting the door. 

  George stood there speechless, his hand tracing the area on his jaw were your hand held it for a few seconds before a burst of serotonin filled his veins. A wide smile cracked on his face as he began to walk out of the Ravenclaw dorms and into his own. Fred was lying on his bed, and looked up when George came in. 

  ‘And where have you been? You’ve been gone for hours.’ Fred noticed the look on George’s eyes and the blush on his cheeks. ‘What’s gotten into you?”

  George looked at his brother, still trying to muster up the ability to speak after what just happened. ‘They- They kissed me Freddie!’ 

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

  George has been visiting you more frequently, and you found yourself becoming more and more attracted to the boy. What started out as a small little attraction has turned into a ravenous craving. 

  George was trying to come up with how and when he should ask you. Obviously somewhere secluded, private. We wouldn’t want any distractions now would we? 

  The next day, George was beet red as he knocked on your door. When you opened up, he gulped, his hands sweating. ‘He-hey Y/N, would you like to come for a walk with me today?’

  ‘Sure, i’ll get my boots.’ You said, disappearing for a few moments and pulling on your boots.

  You slid your hand into George’s and he lead you outside. Out of Hogwarts. Away from the castle. 

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Somewhere special.’ 

  You two didn’t stop until you reached the black lake. The water was cold and calming, the small waves rippled on the pebbled shore. Wet grass was growing out of the edges and a small checked blanket was laying on the riverbank. 

  George sat down and motioned for you to sit next to him. ‘It’s beautiful Georgie’ you breathed. George looked more nervous then usual today. 

  ‘Y/N, there is something i have been wanting to tell you for a long, long time. You see...’ He turned away, his face growing red. ‘I-... I fancy you... ok?’

  Silence filled the air. George’s mind was racing. What have I done what do they think oh merlin have i screwed everything up?

  ‘Oh merlin I’m so sorry Y/N I just needed to-’  George’s eyes widened as you cupped his jaw and tilted it up, his eyeline meeting yours. ‘I like you too, you big dummy.’ 

  You melted into him, lips collided, hands interwind, his arms wrapped wround your waist. He brought you into his lap, you straddled his hips while the kiss deepened. You felt his lips curl into a smile underneath yours. 

  Once you two pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, laughing. ‘Well, that was bloody amazing.’ 

  ‘Yeah, it was.’ 

  George looked up at you. You looked beautiful, his eyes shined at your smile. ‘Would you maybe want to be mine?’ 

  You pressed a kiss to his burning cheek. His face was red with a large smile plastered across it. 

  ‘Duh.’ 

  You closed the space between you guys again, sealing the kiss with the sun beginning to set casting a shine to go across the black lake and bounce off of you guys. 

  This. This was a fairytale for sure. Or perhaps some cliché movie? 

  The shy guy who fell for the eccentric one. You were forever known as the one person in his life who made his heart stutter.  

[mrsdeanwinchester19]

The Interview

Steve x reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: The Avengers have interviews with a news outlet and it doesn’t go as expected

Type: Fluff and humor

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: This was inspired by the Jiminy Glick/Jimmy Fallon interview

The Avengers compound was almost completely quiet, Steve was the only one awake.  He doesn’t normally stay at the compound anymore, preferring to stay at his house, but they got in late from a mission last night and fell asleep after taking his suit off.  The only noise came from the drip, drip, drip of the coffee maker as he mentally tried to prepare for the interviews the whole team has today.  Everyone had been assigned a journalist for a news outlet called The New York Sun.  They were doing a piece on the Avengers, hopefully they won’t try to turn it into an exposé, but it’s not like they would find any information that isn’t already on the Internet after Natasha decrypted and released SHIELD’s files.

Bucky stumbles into the kitchen in a long gray and purple striped robe, looking like he just woke from cryo.  “Good morning sunshine,” Steve jokes.  Bucky glares at him before taking the cup of coffee that Steve had prepared for himself before walking back out.  “FRIDAY,” Steve says to the air.  “Set an alarm for everyone’s room.”  He smiles slightly when the loud alarm starts blaring in all their rooms.  

Sam slams his door open and looks around frazzled.  “What the hell, man?” He clearly woke up thinking there was some kind of attack happening.

Steve simply shrugs his shoulders in response.  “You need to get ready.”

Once everyone had gotten up and gotten ready, they all have a meeting in the common area.  Tony orders them not to say anything the people don’t know about already, don’t say anything about each other, and definitely don’t talk about relationships or family.  

The journalists are spread out around the compound, each in their own room, so Tony tells them where to go to meet their journalist.  Steve goes into the conference room to see one chair turned away from him.  When he closes the door, the journalist spins their chair around and sets their papers on the table.  Steve is immediately struck by how beautiful the interviewer is. Long Y/H/C hair tumbling over her shoulders, bright Y/E/C eyes staring into his baby blues.  She’s wearing a tight black skirt and a white blouse that Steve can slightly see her lacy bralette through.  

“Steve Rogers, nice to meet you,” she says, extending her hand.  Steve grips her soft hand in his rough one and shakes it.  He can’t help but notice the lack of a ring on the hand he didn’t shake.

“Nice to meet you too Miss…” he trails off.

“Y/N.”

“Miss Y/N.  It’s not often we do interviews, just press conferences,” he says, sitting down across the table from her.

“Well, normally I interview celebrities, so this is a nice change of pace,” she answers.  Apparently Steve isn’t a celebrity in her eyes despite the fact that he’s a national icon and has been since World War II.  

“What would you like to know?” Steve changes the subject.

“I want to know about your journey.  I want to know how-” she checks her notes, “-Steve Rogers got to where he is today; but not too much detail because I don’t actually care.  You were born where?”

“I was born and raised in Brooklyn-,” Steve explains, but she cuts him off.

“-Isn’t that wonderful? Poor Brooklyn or Newsies Brooklyn?”

“Uh, it was more poor Brooklyn.”

“Poor Brooklyn, okay. And I’m assuming from the grammar…limited education.”

Steve nearly has to keep his jaw from dropping at her audacity.  To keep his mouth from opening, he clenches his jaw as she continues with the questions.  He may not be a genius like Tony, but he’s smart.  While Tony’s head is filled with ideas for inventions, his is packed with military strategies, fighting styles, and a lifetime of wise advice that the team never wants to hear.  Then, at night, what takes over his mind is how embarrassing the Rappin’ with Cap videos about hot lunches and tooth decay are.

She continues before he has a chance to respond, “There are a lot of words you don’t say.  Rumors are you don’t swear, is that true?”  Steve nods his head in affirmation.  “Why?  Are you scared of saying the words or something?”

Steve sighs, used to this kind of response.  “I just think it sounds unintelligent and unprofessional.”

“Ah, and with your lack of education you want to sound as smart as possible.  So, moving on, you stopped producing weapons.  You said ‘I’m not gonna do it anymore’.  Why is that?”

“Yeah, that uh, that wasn’t me, that was Tony.”

“And you are…?”

“Steve Rogers.”

She gasps, “These questions are not- I’m not prepared for this!  Alright, improvising.  Here’s one, how are you alive?”

“I beg your pardon?” Steve asks, not quite understanding if she’s referring to his age or a certain mission he shouldn’t have come back from.

“You went into the ice. Human cells are mostly made of water. When water freezes, it expands. Your cells should have burst.”

“They think that the serum prevented it from happening.  The doctors said that instead of the water in my cells expanding that when it got cold it clumped together and turned solid.  I’m not a scientist though, that’s something you would want to ask Bruce or Cho, they tried to explain it to me.”

“Bruce isn’t a medical doctor, right?” she asks.

“Right.  But he studied the serum, attempting to replicate it and now that I’m here again he’s trying to learn more about it.  I was basically a pin cushion for him in the beginning, he took so much blood.”

“Alright, last question. I wanna ask you about your relationship with Bucky Barnes.”

“He’s a very good friend-“ Steve begins.

“Lover.”

“What?”

“Is he your lover?” she asks again.

“No, he’s just a friend; basically my brother,” Steve defends.

“Admit it in this interview, he’s your male lover!”

“You’re just trying to get a reaction out of me!” Steve says.  He knows he shouldn’t let her rile him up at all, but he can’t help it when the entire interview has been to hold.

“I’m not trying to get a reaction.”

“Yes you are, you’re trying to get a reaction out of me by saying ridiculous stuff like this!”

“I’ll tell you the reaction that I’m trying to get over, I’m trying to get over the fact that I thought this was with Stark!”

“You gotta be shitting me.”

“Oof, Rogers, you kiss your wife with that mouth?  Or should I say you kiss Bucky with that mouth,” she says.

Steve pulls at his own hair before walking out of the conference room.  She’ll find her own way out.  What the hell kind of interview was that?  The questions were almost nonsensical, followed no pattern or sequence, and apparently she thought she was interviewing a different person.  He’s been angered by interviewers before, especially when they try to work in “gotcha” questions, but never straight up insulted like this with the education comment.  He’s not sure if the others are done with their interviews yet but if he needs to talk to them, he can text.  He’s headed home.

  You unlock your front door and drop your purse after closing the door. Before you even get a chance to turn on the light, a voice calls out.  “Limited education?”

You jump a bit and put your hand on your chest.  You look over to see a dark figure on the couch.  He stands up and slowly walks over until he’s in the light shining through the front windows from the street lights.  “I think you deserved it,” you say.

“Oh really?” he asks.

“Yes.  Texting your wife that you’re getting in and then staying at the compound?”  You walk closer to him.  “I stayed up for hours worried that something happened to you in the last few minutes of the flight and you said I’m not allowed to call you during missions.”

“I’m sorry babe, my phone died and I passed out when I went to go take off my uniform.  Can you forgive me?” he asks, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You look up at him then at his chest.  “I mean, a massage would definitely help…”

He laughs.  “I was about to ask the same thing of you, especially after FRIDAY showed Tony the full recording of my interview and then had an almost two hour phone call with me about it.  He’s gonna kill me when he finds out the interviewer was my wife.  Actually it’s gonna be when he finds out I got married and didn’t invite the team.”

“Well don’t worry about it,” you say, setting your hands against his chest and feel his strong heart beating beneath his skin.  “He’ll understand since you two weren’t on good terms at the time. In other news, I wrote you a shining review about how you’re smart, selfless, brave, kind, and how sexy your ass is.”

He laughs and leans down to kiss you.  The kiss is chaste but sweet.  “We’re having dinner with the team on Thursday.”  

It’s Monday today so that gives me only 3 days to mentally prepare to meet the people most important to him. “Are you sure?” I ask nervously.  

“Of course!  You already know Bucky and he loves you.  I’m sure the rest of the team will too.  Besides, how else will we explain the great article about me when Tony saw the interview.”

“Did you tell them they’re having dinner with you and your wife?” I ask.  I have hung out with Bucky and Steve dozens of times.  He comes over for dinner at least twice a week and he was the best man at Steve’s second wedding.  Because Tony and Steve had been split apart, he really wanted Bucky at his wedding, even though he wasn’t fully recovered yet.  I think Steve would’ve put him in a straight jacket had it meant he could be there.  Bucky also wanted to be there more than anything, he was just terrified he would ruin Steve’s day.  So after telling Bucky, you had a small, second ceremony that Bucky was able to attend, along with Steve’s Wakandan friends. We may end up having a third ceremony that the team can finally attend.

“Nope.  I just told them team dinner on Thursday and they have to be there.  But for now, how about we head to the bedroom and get reacquainted?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows and biting his full lower lip.

“Yeah, you need to take care of your wife that you left alone for a week.  Otherwise you’ll get an article about your secret addition to glazed donuts and soap operas!”

Taglist: @imanuglywombat​

[slashersins]

play along with this charade

written for and with inspiration from @bloodysnowdrops​

tag list : @horrorfanaticx

words : 1965

part two || ( part one )

randy was . . . annoyed . the last week he’d been attempting to spend more time with you . attempting , barely succeeding . billy and stu were only supposed to be your movie buddies , your friends , but they seemed to take up most of your free time . it was his own fault , and he was kicking himself for that . too busy doing his own thing to really pay attention to you for more than a weekly date night and the occasional time spent working the same shifts . he wanted to groan and rub his face in his hands . was he really that shitty of a boyfriend ? apparently so . because every single fucking time he’d tried to ask you out in the last week , those two fucking flirts had shown the fuck up , or somehow dropped you off at his house , or just fucking - and how were you not at all , in the least bit , suspicious as to why they were always around ? hell , it was obvious those two fuckers were up to something ! did sidney know ? did tate ? did they really know how much time you three spent together ? did they know like he knew ?

he sighed , pointedly looking away as you tugged at the sleeves of his shirt to pull him off his couch . “ randy , come on ! stu invited us to the party . it’ll be fun , and i haven’t seen sidney and tate in a while . you like sidney and tate ! please ? i don’t wanna go all alone ? ” he sighed again , looking up at you with a frown . he didn’t want to go . he didn’t want to have to watch you and billy and stu fuck around together while he awkwardly stood in a corner . but you were right , letting you go alone would be a worse choice . and . . . it had been a while since he’d seen sidney . and tate . 

with another drawn out sigh he let you pull him up , finding himself smiling at how you bounced happily on your heels that he was being agreeable . but it soon fell as he remembered the only reason you even wanted to go was to see billy and stu . “ yeah . we won’t stay late though . ”

you nodded , lifting up to place a kiss on his cheek . the simple action causing him to blush and glance away for a moment , before quickly leaning in and giving you a quick kiss on your lips . his face seemed to get even redder as he stood up and quickly walked to the door . you could only hum , holding in the giggles that threatened to spill from you . randy was cute . so cute and so shy . every time he kissed you he always got so flustered . it was one of the things you liked about him . 

- - -

you were out of the car and next to randy’s door before he could even get out . your excitement was irritating him . would you be this excited if it was his party you were going to ? he huffed , shoulders slumped as he got out of the car . before you could get a head start to the door , be wrapped an arm around your waist . he could needed to keep you close . to show off how you were his . that you were off limits . but he faltered when you blinked up at him confused . and he remembered he’d never done something like this before . glancing away he mumbled out a , “ just want to hold on to you . do you have a - do you want me to let you go ? ” fuck ! why couldn’t he just fucking man up and tell you he was going to hold you like this instead of asking . fuck ! 

“ mm . it’s nice . i like it . ” and it was true . it felt nice to have randy make a move and try to be closer to you . it made you all warm inside knowing that your boyfriend wanted to be closer . “ come on , let’s get inside . i’m excited to see what stu set up ! ” randy rolled his eyes , at that . of course you were excited to see them . he was growing more and more concerned that they’d brainwashed you or something .

at the door , randy went to knock but you didn’t wait a beat before twisting the handle and pushing the door open . he blinked , frowning down at you , “ you don’t knock ? ” you looked up at him grinning , sticking your tongue out teasingly .

“ do you think stu is going to be waiting by the door to open it ? we’d be stuck outside forever ! ” why was it that any time these two were brought up , randy felt more and more concerned with how deep the relationship between you was ? maybe he needed to have a serious conversation with you . being so friendly and just . . . so casual with them was starting to leave a bad taste in his mouth . you weren’t even this laid back with him . 

randy’s inner monologue and turmoil was quickly pushed to the back of his mind as he found himself in stu’d kitchen . billy standing next to sidney , leaning half way on the kitchen island with a drink in his hand and smirk on his face . and stu leaning over tate and laughing while tate double fisted two ted solo cups . 

“ hey guys ! you finally made it . we were wondering if you were even going to come . ” sidney smiled , giving a wave at the pair of you , and you happily gave one back . you wanted to apologize but randy spoke up before you had the chance . 

“ uh , h - hi sidney . we were just . . . running a little behind . ” randy cleared his throat looking away as he tried to hide the his embarrassed look . 

“ yeah . well , if you took much longer we were planning on kidnapping , y/n . pretty sure that she would of died from boredom alone with you . ” sidney shook her head , smiling as she slapped a hand at billy’s chest . randy just glared at him . billy clicked his tongue , watching his randy’s face before letting his gaze travel to you , a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he saw how randy was holding you awkwardly . “ don’t give me that look randy . we all know you’re not man enough to show a girl a good time . ”

you stick your tongue out at billy , who smirks and leans back , wrapping his free arm around sidney and pulls her in , kissing her temple . might as well show the paranoid fuck how a real man holds his girl . “ don’t be mean . i’ll hide your white cheddar shaker on movie night and you’ll be forced to eat artificially bland microwave popcorn like me and stu . ”

stu laughed , “ oooh . gotta play nice now . even y/n knows how delicate randy’s feelings are . ” tate snorted and bumped her head against stu’d chin . 

“ don’t start too . i’m pretty sure , y/n might threaten you with a bad time on your dumb horror and gore movie nights . ” stu gasped , looking at you with a shocked expression as if to day ‘ you wouldn’t dare ’ . you just grinned back .

“ i barely call the movies they watch horror . the effects are all lame . they aren’t even good storylines , and the directors are trash . ” it was a lame shot at they’re movie watching pride , but randy wasn’t about to stand here and let sidney and tate think that billy and stu had any good tastes in movies . “ i don’t even know why you spend time with these two watching c-list wanna be horror . ”

“ oof . okay , boys . you three have your little movie spat . we’re going to head over to the livingroom and enjoy ourselves . y/n , come on , before they start taking out their dicks to compare sizes . ” tate moved away from stu , who was smiling a little too hard at randy , to grab sidney and wave you over . before you left , randy leaned down , wanting to give you a kiss but chickened out under the watchful eyes of the group and just mummered a ‘ don’t go too far ’ instead . you smiled , giving a smile as you waved at billy and stu , letting sidney and tate drag you away . 

billy waited till they were gone to look randy up and down , giving a smug look . “ well , look who’s trying to grow a pair . ” stu snickered , the pair of them moving from their side of the kitchen island to stand on either side of randy , not giving him a way to escape . 

“ think he’s still pissed that we hang out with his girlfriend more than him ? ”

“ yeah , stu . i think he might be . is that why you’re trying to be big man on campus ? trying to make lame ass digs at our movie preferences ? ” billy pinched randy’s nose hard and tugged it to either side , making randy wince . “ you’d think that you’d be a little more careful . insulting the movies we watch means you’re insulting y/n , too . ”

“ you’re a real shitty boyfriend , randy ! too scared to even give them a kiss . awwwww . ” stu snickered moving to stand behind billy and flash a cruel smile at him . “ don’t bring down my party . i worked hard to make it fun . and i’ll lock you in a closet if you start making it as depressing as you are . ”

billy smirked at that , letting go of randy’s nose . “ let’s go make sure they’re not having too much fun without us . ” he turned , not sparing randy another glance as he made his way to the living room . stu happily following behind , laughing at how he hoped they were so they could jump in with them . 

randy shuffled on his feet , glaring at the back of their heads and then the wall . fuck . he knew they were up to something . they wouldn’t be such dicks other wise . well . . . they would . they were always dicks . with a sigh and a mutter of complaints under his breath , he followed after them . he trusted you with sidney and tate . but not so much with billy and stu . hell , he’d trust you with any of the other half drunk morons at the party before he trusted billy and stu .