#welp dis good enough

[fragrantpines]

Why hello there! I saw your prompts open so if I may..May I humbly request Shredded Jerky and/or Peking Duck with the prompt rooibos tea?

Certainly! Shredded Jerky and Peking Duck accompanied by some rooibos tea coming right up!

(Link to prompt request/prompt list post)

Warnings: Suggestive (Shredded Jerky... it's jerky, what else is expected ww)

Rooibos tea; what’s their favourite thing to do with their s/o?

Shredded Jerky

▪︎ He loves having you watch his shadow puppet shows. They are his pride and joy, and having you in the crowd further motivates him to put on a brilliant show that will captivate your attention for the rest of the night

▪︎ Sometimes, he'll invite you to see one of his practice shows under the guise of “wanting to understand the audience better”. In reality, he wants to take as much of your time as possible, keep you by his side for just a little longer before you have to go back and fulfill your duties as the young master

“... At last, the mother and son reunite and live the rest of their days in tranquil peace. The end.”

The curtains on the puppet stage fall, breaking you out of your trance before your applauds fill the room. “What a touching story, I'm sure the people will love this story too!”

Shredded Jerky peeks out from the back of the stage with a small grin. “Of course, when have my shows ever disappointed anyone?”

“Pft, right.” You look at him with doubtful eyes yet couldn't bring yourself to doubt him fully. Amongst all of the shows you've seen, none of the audience ever leave disappointed, always discussing the show with smiles on their faces as they leave swiftly, excited to share today's story with their friends and families before dragging them to come see the next puppet show. It was heartwarming to see people enjoy your lover's work and seeing his proud expression right after never fails to fill your heart with a sense of joy as well.

Suddenly, a small tug on your sleeve pulls you away from your thoughts, making you cast your gaze downwards until your eyes spot a little shadow puppet standing right next to your hand. The moment it notices that your attention is on it, it makes a gleeful sound before flying next to your face, rubbing it's paper face against your cheek as if giving you a kiss.

“Well well, looks like this little one is especially happy with your compliments.” Shredded Jerky mused, taking a seat next to you before propping his arm up against the armrest comfortably. He stares at the puppet with part admiration and part jealousy, unsure on whether he should let it be or pull it away so that your attention directed towards him again. However, before he could decide, you laugh cheerfully, rubbing the little puppet with one finger and putting your other hand over his arm.

“Should I also praise the puppet master for inviting me to see such a wonderful show?” You asked teasingly, smiling from ear to ear.

Shredded Jerky smirked, not missing a beat as he captures your hand with his other hand before leaning next to your ear, whispering with a sly tone.

“I would be honored to hear more praises, but perhaps we should move to somewhere else before you start reciting them. I don't want to let anyone else hear you call my name with that lovely voice of yours.”

Peking Duck

▪︎ Much like Jerky, he likes having you by his side while he's working. A king must always be productive, and what better way to increase his productivity than to have his lover standing by his side supporting him?

▪︎ Actually, if you stare at him for long enough, he'll start getting flustered and ask if there's something on his face. If you reply no or don't say anything while continuing to stare at him, he'll try to find a way to break your gaze on him. Whether it be looking away, covering your eyes or distracting you, he'll come up with a million different ways to redirect your gaze to somewhere else

▪︎ .... Every way except directly asking you to stop (Because he actually enjoys the stares very much but is too embarassed to admit it so he just uses it as an excuse to get closer to you. Please don't tease him any further, he's going to become an overcooked Peking Duck if you continue)

“You're staring.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not... unless you would like to turn around and see for yourself?”

You rest leisurely on a coach behind Peking, watching endearingly as his ears were starting to turn into the same bright red shade of his hair under your unrelenting gaze.

Meanwhile, Peking didn't turn around nor say anything, resorting to trying to block out his surroundings in order to better concentrate on his work. However, he soon found it impossible as your gaze on his back was too powerful of a force to resist, making him putting his brush down as steadily as he can with shaking hands before turning to face you with a pout. “Love, I need to submit all this paperwork before tomorrow. If not, then the ducks might cause havoc in Kongsang again.”

You frown, clearly displeased. “But you've been working nonstop stop for the past few hours. It's not good to work so hard, especially when you've just returned from a long expedition.”

“I.....”

Peking averts his gaze, causing you to sigh underneath your breath. Instantly, you stand up and wrap your arms around him from behind the chair, resting your chin on his shoulder. “Come on, I think it's time to take a break. An afternoon nap won't hurt anyone.”

He wants to protest but as soon as he opens his mouth, all the tiredness that he had been suppressing overtakes his body in an instant. A loud yawn escapes his lips before he rubs his face against your cheek, murmuring in a soft tone. "Alright, just a small nap. You're not allowed to leave my side while I'm napping, okay?"

You chuckle before pressing a kiss against his cheek. "Your wish is my command, my dear king."

A faint laugh escapes his lips, his heart melting fondly underneath your touch. Swiftly, he pulls you back to the couch and lies on it with you, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist before closing his eyes peacefully.

This time, he won't leave you. Not now, not ever.

[writer-room]

Honestly Rayla is equally 100% ride or die for Callum too.

That's so true I almost mentioned it in that post. They're so ridiculously feral for each other it's hilarious to watch. Callum's the legitimate "we ride AND die together" whereas Rayla is the "I will ride and die FOR you" sort of deal yknow?

Could be literally any situation, no matter how dangerous, and she's already decided she will die here. Does it ensure Callum lives? Then batter-up buckeroo we're going in swords blazing! Everyone cheer and clap for her human or she'll blow this whole place up. Kinda person who says "even if you hate me I'd still lose everything if it meant you were okay". She thinks they're in a tragic love story where she's always at risk of losing him but that's okay as long as it keeps him safe and happy like y'know Viren parallels, she'd risk losing her very self for him over and over. Except Callum would wait until the end of the world itself, and even beyond, and she wouldn't even have to ask.

The difference between them, really, is that Rayla will die for Callum on any given day. Callum will kill for Rayla on any given day. Something something matching sets

[purplelea]

HELLO i'm not sleeping so I might as well ramble about this.

When a player die, they die. That's as simple as that. Reality keeps going as usual, they get memorials (as we see for Beat and Rhyme) and they even have the time to make funerals (see Eri saying she's visiting Shiki daily and bringing her flowers in the anime), so that means that the Players died, and then there was some time between the day of their death and the start of the Reaper's Game. I also believe that there is a selection between the people who can play the Game again, not in a "you've already played before so you can't" way—that was Kitaniji playing with rules again, just like when he said "only one can come back to life" I believe it's not true either—but more in a "who's worthy to come back to life/who has the highest Imagination and potential and would be the most useful to the city if they won.

To come back to the initial question: what happens when a Player wins the Game and comes back to life? It's explained in the secret reports. The Composer takes data from an alternative universe where the Player in question never died, and then puts that data into the "main" universe, which recreates memories of everyone who is 'ot aware of the existence of the Game. So no one except the Player and other ex-players remembers about the Player dying in the first place (which is indeed Something to bear for the Player).

Now for the memory thing—you talked about it on your third point. It's a similar thing that happened with Shinjuku, Neku and the Twisters. For Shinjuku, everyone who wasn't aware of the UG's existence forgot. Which explains why Beat understands when Uzuki mentions it, while Rindo, Fret and Nagi don't (since they weren't aware of the UG's existence at that time). For Neku, it's a little different: it's said in the Social Network that only his Partners remember him, but clearly any Reaper do remember him as well since Kariya was building him as a legend already. The Game also tends to make us think through the dialogue that Rhyme does remember Neku as well, even though the definition given in the social network does not include her. And for the Twisters, that's indeed a thing concerning how they came to the UG without dying! Uzuki says it as soona s she learns that they're alive. If one comes to the UG without dying, then it's as if they never existed in the first place, which means that Rindo, Fret, Nagi and Beat's existences were erased for the time that the Reaper's Game took place (Rhyme and Shiki only remembered Beat thanks to their statuts as ex-Players, again). Which if you think about it makes Rindo's choice at the end of neo a lot deeper, because not only his friends were dead dead, but their entire existences had been erased as well! Which means no tombstone to go to, no one to share your grief with, nothing. (Yep, twewy is a little fucked up game about friendship)

Anyway please ask if you've got more questions, I've got nothing else to do lmao

How does death work in the TWEWY universe, from the perspective of the living?

Thinking logically, I might believe that the Players are merely in a coma, stubbornly refusing to die until they either get erased or win.

But it's also so amusing to have the idea of a Player winning the game and crawling out of their own grave because they were, in fact, Actually Deceased.

REAL this is bonkers to me

•the coma idea is neat but i doubt there’s any doubt in the minds of living people that these guys are dead. we know eri referred to shiki as having died.

•i believe it was established in the reports in the first game that by the composer’s power they are reformed with a new body (iirc). which begs the question of what happens to their old body that’s been buried or cremated or w/e. wouldn’t that be wild if it just remained so when the person died again now they had two bodies in the same grave or w/e lol*

•i think it was implied in neo at some point that once someone comes back to life the living sort of just. forget??? that the person ever died??? which is insane. like their memories of reality are overwritten by the lie that the composer feeds them. only the reborn person knows the truth which. ouch. that has to be a horrible burden to carry. but it makes sense

•but i also think. if i remember correctly shoka has a line (i think she was talking to beat?) that’s like ‘geez how does she even remember you’ when he’s talking about how he’s communicating with rhyme. which. girl what do you MEAN. is she implying that the living forget the dead ever existed at all even if the dead have not been erased yet??? that can’t be right. we know eri remembered shiki. or is it specifically because of the weird thing that happened to the people who got pulled into the game without dying. where like their entire presence online got erased (why exactly did that happen? idk)

•i think they say something about how rhyme and shiki, as former ug residents, can see beat, rindo, fret, and nagi even across ground lines because those guys are not truly dead. ordinary rg residents can’t see them at all and no rg residents can see neku and shoka are truly dead. idk. but still i would like to know what the situation was like for, say, nagi. someone alive in the ug. did the people who knew her temporarily forget her. dude

*another set of questions has been raised. sorry <3

•first question: do all of the recent dead in an area automatically join the game? most are probably erased, and probably immediately. twewy week one has dialogue that implies the size of that week’s game was a mere 12 people. idk what average number of people in a given population die per week in real life so idk what conclusion to draw there. but probably more than 12 in all of shibuya lol.

•anyway, if it’s not everyone, if where do the other dead go??? instant erasure?? i think it might be that as a test to see who’s worthy of rebirth, only certain people even get a ticket into said test. like the reapers use their prejudice to determine if you’re even worth inviting. or if that’s not the case, the people who get in could simply be the people who WANT to live again. a lot of people probably just accept oblivion. the reason we only see plucky young kids (or like. nerds and influencers in neo lol) is because they still had entire lives ahead of them and were not at all prepared for death. so the reapers might’ve just like read their souls and determined their desire. of course we see like the twewy main 5 all being like ahhhh idk if i have anything to come back to am i even worth it… but that’s just them lamenting the state of their lives. that’s not the same as openly welcoming death.

•second question: could you die and play the reaper’s game multiple times? cheating death infinitely because you’re just that good at solving puzzles beating noise? imagine a player on their fifth life and death the reapers are like ‘c’mon man just join us already it’s the only path to angelhood aka the ideal highest state of being. every game is a gamble and you’re only getting older and less capable. don’t you want to chill out and live in peace?’ and the player’s like ‘no shut up i don’t want your crummy job. i still have so many books to read and my cats need me. i’ll see you in like a month when i inevitably fall down the stairs again’

tldr: ‘oh simple ask i’ll respond right away with just a few words and a normal amount of thoughts about the twewyverse’

[breeyn]

An essay rebutting the “bad writing” claims of s2 ofmd. Spoilers herein.

I’ll preface this with saying you’re obviously allowed to like and dislike whatever you want. I am in no way opposing that. And your reasons are your reasons. Have at. (Also - this is a collection of observations from the past few days, I’m not calling anyone out)

I AM going to rebut the idea that season two was poorly written and lost the spirit of what the show is about.

My favourite movie of all time is Empire Strikes Back. It’s been my favourite movie since I was four. I’m pretty sure it’s a fave of David Jenkins, too. He and Taika have made absolutely no attempt to hide their love of all things 80’s - Prince, the Princess Bride, Kate Bush, Star Wars, etc.

I have ancient video tapes (that I can’t play because who has a vcr) where Lucas is interviewed by Leonard Maltin? Malkin? I dunno. Who cares. Maltin asks him about the Star Wars (original trilogy) story arc. Lucas says “in act I, you introduce all the characters. In act II, you put them in a situation they can’t get out of, and in act III, they get out of it.”

That’s how it works. This is how stories and literary structures work.

Of course you’re not satisfied with season two. You’re not supposed to be.

The arguments I have read on why s2 loses the spirit of s1 is because no one heals. No one learns anything. No one moves forward properly. The person who makes the biggest move towards healing dies. The two main characters end the show doing the exact fucking thing they had promised themselves and each other they wouldn’t do. Our romantic lead still doesn’t understand his value or make any headway on addressing his tragic flaw. It makes no goddamn sense.

My gremlins in weird: it’s not supposed to. In Act 2, EVERYONE LOSES. This is how it goes.

I’ve read a lot of people saying “but this felt like a series finale, not a season finale.” We all know that outside politics play a part here, the strikes make everything precarious. I remember the last writers strike. It destroyed tv for fifteen years. Anyone remember Pushing Daisies? Some of y’all have never had your fave show cancelled with zero resolution for the characters and it shows.

Daddy J did us a kindness. He softened the blow of a tough season. After the brutal cliffhanger of s1, he gave us a little softness and hope. All those things you’re mad aren’t resolved? It’s because THE STORY ISN’T OVER.

No one on earth thinks “stuff all your trauma into a box and ignore it” is good advice. A way to actually live. This show did not have enough screen time to throw out dialogue for no reason. There was foreshadowing in s1 for s2, and there is foreshadowing for s3 in s2. This is a well-crafted story by very smart people who care very much for these characters. There is zero chance Frenchie explained the box in his head for no reason. The reason people have not resolved their trauma and growth is because they haven’t done it *yet*.

And friends - it’s not thinly veiled. They straight up fucking tell us what they’re doing.

Luke Skywalker spends the first two movies fucking up and desperately trying to prove himself and just generally being an idiot. Sound familiar? He ignores the lessons he is supposed to be learning to go off and do what he feels like doing, and loses fucking badly. At the end of Empire, Han is gone, Luke and Leia wave goodbye to the Falcon that has Lando and Chewy - the rest of their crew - aboard. Everyone has lost everything they care about. Vader is undefeated. Yoda is pissed. Nothing is resolved.

You see where I’m going?

If you think I’m stretching this too far, welp, when Ed tells Stede he loves him - the climax of the finale - Stede quotes Han fucking Solo. Like - *it’s right there*. The story structure. The reason everything is unresolved.

So yeah. They wave goodbye to their ship because they have wounds to heal (like Luke’s hand). The people aboard the ship have things to find. Ed and Stede have *not* learned their lesson about whims and how not to be like Anne and Mary. It’s not stupid that they’re doing the same thing, and it’s not pointless that we were shown Anne and Mary. It’s all relevant.

The resolution comes in Act 3. None of these people are done. The story is far, far from over. And just in case the studios want to be dicks about it, David Jenkins was lovely enough to not repeat my enduring heartbreak over Pushing Daisies.

Thank you, @davidjenks 🖤

[yellosnacc]

What about uniima/Fueem’s religion causes them to see Neal as a sloman?

This ask is probably a reaction to this post where I share some of Fueems thoughts if anyone wants to read it.

Here's a post about small aspect of the wider ueemic religion here.

But shrimply! Fueem's regional variant of this faith is pretty close to the one considered the "base" ueemic type. They are a follower of the heads and their rules and are knowledgeable in the ways of soul right.

In more recent years (like 30) the Eye has declared a soul right for every alien (any sophont found in the world so far) with some distinct rules for each but still similar to how uniima souls work.

Because this addition to the base religion is pretty recent, there are many versions of how this works for different people-species but nothing is fully agreed on. There's also the problem of most uniima never seeing a live sloman or knowing their biology/reproduction. So lot of the existing interpretations are based on accounts of a few ueema. Now if those guys weren't good drawers, someone else had to visually interpret their interpretation and welp. The farther from the Heads (the religion central) the weirder looking and weirder working other aliens are in art and literature.

So a recap. When a uniima dies (according to ueema belief) they release a soul. This soul in some way (depending on subculture etc.) gets attached to a person who was close to the dead person. At a point, the soul will jump to a baby at the right point in its development. This baby can be the new child of the soul wearer or just close to them. Usually, the wearer has to meet the "body" at least once. There are a lot more rules and stuff but this is long enough!

So anyway, this is probably what Fueem imagines happened to Neal spiritually.

Making Neal have the soul of once-sloman and thus being one too.

[anomaly-hivemind]

Caught ☆ Spider! Choso x Reader | Kinktober Day 29

Summary: The itsy-bitsy spider went up your waterspout. Down came the rain and turned the spider on. Up came the climax, and tightened up all the spout, and the itsy-bitsy spider takes you once again.

Word Count: 692

Tags: Rope Bondage, One Shot, Fingerfucking, Restraints, Non-Consensual Bondage, Bondage, Spiders, Human/Monster Romance

This is what you get for being in places you have no business being in. Strung up in a very exposed manner in front of an overly large arachnid that also was seemingly a hot man. You don’t even remember the exact thing that got you into this mess, and there's no point in thinking about it when you're about to be eaten. You pull on the webs, and they aren't budging. 

Welp, the only regret you have is not writing down a will, so the people you didn’t like in your close enough bloodline could get nothing. You're not even sure that's how wills work, you've never died before and this would be your first. You were so in your head that you didn't notice when the webs started to shake and your captor was crawling to you. 

You try to crane your neck to see, but it's too hard to move it without feeling like you might break it. This situation was not it no matter how hot the creature now standing in front of you was. 

Hot he was, if not for the creepy spider bits. The human half of him had messy pigtails that kept his dark hair from being in the way. He has 5 eyes that seem to take up the space of his forehead.  As he inches closer you can see the seams of his face alluding to a hingable mouth. Then the most obvious part was the two sets of mandibles he has, the first coming out of the human mouth and being smaller than the others being much larger and coming from his face seams.  His eyes had heavy purple bags under them and he handed a long mark over his nose.

For the part, you were more unsettled about his actual other half. The part that's all spider that is. It was basically if you saw a spider in Australia and made the biggest one there ten times bigger. It causes an awkward chill down your spine. He, at least you're assuming by human half that it is in fact he was just staring down at you. All eyes are on you, making you feel small.

He crawled closer to you and your anxiety shot through the roof. He spit acid from his mouth dissolving your pants. Adrenaline coursed through your veins and you tensed up in your webbed prison. Even if you were free it still wouldn’t help at all. The acid burned, not like how you expected acid to burn, to make your flesh bubble and melt off. Not that it was more like the exact moment when you’re sitting out under the sun and regret not putting on sunscreen.

He pulled off the melted remains of your pants and discarded them elsewhere. As he circled around the outside of your hole.

“Ah! Why are you doing this,” he pushed two of his slender fingers into your hole and you tense up a little. He watched your face contort a little, which he seemed to enjoy. 

You try to squirm and all that does is wiggle the webs holding you down a little but it helps none when it comes to pushing our pulling away from the arachne. He mutters something under his breath that couldn’t hear all that well. 

“What was that?” You huff out as he starts to slowly thrust his fingers in and out of your entrance. 

“Because I want to,” he scissors his fingers out inside of you and stretches you out. 

You were holding back moans and pants as he was fingering you. It feels good and you hate to admit but he was hitting all the right spots.  It made you feel like you could climax on this alone even if you would prefer some other stimulation elsewhere. 

He thrust his thrust into You at a steady pace and your insides try to pull him in deeper and squeeze around his digits. His other hand continues to pump in and out of your warm, channel, making sure that you know exactly who is in control here. 

After all, you were caught in his web.

[ray-ray-writings]

My Cinderella AU with Schlatt

Welp... Who would have thought that Schlatt would be the one out of all of the MCYTs to NOT be outed as an abuser....

Anywho, I watched the Cinderella movie with Camila Cabello and instantly wanted to write an AU of my own of Cinderella but I didn't want to put in the work to create my own new characters and establish them and all of that fun stuff. So I did what I do best, toss already established characters into a storyline. What a weird piece of work to post on my blog after several years...

But here you go, 16.3k words of a Cinderella AU with reader as Cinderella and Schlatt as Prince Charming. If you read, I appreciate you. Consider leaving a like, comment, and/or reblog and tell me whatcha liked about it. No pressure tho <3.

Summary: A Cinderella AU in which reader is a baker and Schlatt is a Prince. the two meet in a market square where the reader in turns insults Schlatt to his face without realizing who they're talking to and the story of the relationship that then ensues.

Pairing: JSchlatt x Gender Neutral!Reader (I tried to keep in gender neutral but I may have slipped here and there, if you notice any parts that happens let me know and I'll fix it!

Mostly fluff with a touch of angst

Content Warnings: all warnings that typically come with cinderella: ie dead parents, shitty step family, reader being told she doesn't deserve good things, the word papi... like twice... you'll see. The use of "Jonathon" being Schlatt's "real" first name, Swearing, second person POV, when the text is in italics it's as if it's following Schlatt in third POV, i hope that makes sense, shitty writing at the end because I still haven't figured out how to end stories uwu.

Please let me know if I missed anything.

Once Upon a Time,

You lived with your stepmother and two stepsisters. Your mother died when you were young. She died after being thrown from a horse, hitting her head off the ground, and never waking up. 

Your father had remarried within a year, but had swore to never love again. He married simply because he knew he was sick and didn’t want to die and leave you alone if he were to die when you were a minor. Sure enough, he passed when you were 15. 

One thing your parents had gifted you before their passing is your love for baking. You could bake like nobody’s business. You had tried to get a job at the bakery when you had come of age but the baker didn’t appreciate your helpful tips on what to improve on and what would make his baked goods taste better. So you just bake and hang out in the square, selling to those that know you and know of your business. 

You did your best to spend most of your time out of your home as your stepfamily was not kind to you. They teased and taunted you and made your life hell. You would have left the moment you were of age, but you had nowhere else to go. This was your family’s home, you didn’t make enough money baking on the side to justify moving out. So you were just waiting to meet someone who would sweep you off your feet and carry you away from here. 

It’s not ideal, but that is the way that life is. 

Across the land, Prince Schlatt was born and raised in the castle. He was waited on hand foot, life served to him on a silver platter. But the boy grew to a man with a kind heart, even if it tended to hide behind sarcasm and taunts. His father, King Philza, had done his best to teach Schlatt how to be a great ruler while his mother, Queen Kristen, had done her best to teach him how to be a loving man. 

Schlatt loves his parents, but sometimes wanted to be his own man without his parent’s hovering over his shoulder telling him who to be. To be who he wanted to be, without the weight of the kingdom on his shoulders.

King Philza has been harping on him for rejecting so many marriage proposals, lecturing him on how important it was for him to find a suitable match before his coronation so that everything was in order before it was time for him to take over the throne. 

Schlatt has always given the same response, “I don’t to marry just anyone. I want to marry for love, father, just like you.” 

Philza would roll his eyes but say nothing more on the subject until the next day. Kristen was always proud of the way her son would respond, but never interrupted the two. The supportive smile she always sent Schlatt as he left was incredibly telling though.

One of the only good things about your stepfamily was that they stayed out of the kitchen. Your stepmother learned quickly about how well you could cook and bake from how you always made meals for your father that she never felt the need to cook herself. Instead, she found it easier to boss you around and force you to cook for her and her daughters. 

You found you didn’t mind it though, the kitchen was your happy place. It was one of the only spaces where you knew that you wouldn’t be bothered, that for a moment while you rolled out dough or poured some batter you could pretend like everything in your life was perfect.

You needed more ingredients. For baking and for dinners. You had left the house with the small amount of money that your stepmother had given you and made your way to the market square. In your basket, a number of sweet treats to sell for your pocket cash to your normal customers after you run your errands. 

The sun feels nice on your face. You’re used to heat pressing into the as you stand over a hot stove or an open oven, so the sunlight shining on you makes you feel slightly at home. Comfortable even. Maybe a bit too comfortable and unaware of your surroundings because it’s not too long while you’re lost in thought before you slam into someone. The basket flies out of your hand and tumbles to the ground, several of the treats falling to the ground. 

You let out a gasp as you fall onto your butt on the ground. The man you have bumped into lets out a quiet “oh shit,” before reaching down and picking up some of the treats that have fallen out. 

“Sorry about that,” he murmurs, reaching out a hand for you to take. You carefully take his hand, allowing your eyes to scan the stranger. The first thing that you notice is his eyes. They’re fucking beautiful. The pools of dark chestnut brown bore into yours so deeply it momentarily takes your breath away. You’re able to see the way they fill with concern all the while they flick down and examine you, if you were of more a mind, you would blush. 

The next thing you notice is the mask that covers the lower half of his face. You stop your brows from furrowing at the sight. You continue to observe him. You note the way that his brown hair is pulled back, which is what allowed you to see his eyes so strikingly before. His clothes are a bit on the fancier side of those that come to the market. He’s strong too, you can tell by the way he pulls you up from the ground with no real effort exerted. His hands are on the softer side. He feels familiar but you can’t place where you know him. 

Oh fuck. You’re the prettiest person Schaltt has ever seen. He’s been introduced to countless nobles, never ending royalty, long lines of commoners, but none of them could compare to how absolutely stunning you look right now. And he’s just made a huge ass full of himself by running into you and sending some of your baked goods AND you flying to the ground. At least he was smart enough to wear a mask to hide his face and therefore his identity. He knows his facial hair is incredibly recognizable. Even if he wasn’t presenting as the crowned prince, he better make this right. 

“It’s alright,” you respond once you’ve shaken yourself out of your stupor, reaching for your basket. He quickly hands it back to you. You do a quick inventory and note that about a third of your stock had fallen to the ground. “Great, just great,” you murmur quietly to yourself. 

“Again, I’m so sorry about that… let me replace what you’ve lost. Allow me to walk you to the bakery so you can buy more.” The stranger says, motioning toward the bakery, his eyes never leaving yours. 

The laugh you let out causes the man’s shoulders to deflate, causing you to clear your throat and instantly start explaining. “No, no, sorry. I’m not laughing at you. Rather laughing at the thought of me buying anything from that fucking guy.” 

His brows furrow as he looks at the pastries. “You didn’t get them from the baker? Where did you get them from then?” 

“I made them myself.” You answer simply, giving a small shrug. “The baker didn’t want to hire me and so I bake them at my house and sell them on the square to a few people.” 

His brows hit the top of his forehead. “Oh shit, really? I guess I just made you lose income then, huh? Let me pay for them then.”

“Oh, no really it’s okay. It was an accident. Don’t worry about it.” 

“No really. I insist. Please. It’s the least I can do.” He states before digging into his pockets and pulling out 5 gold pieces and pressing them into your hand. 

You stare at the gold in shock. “Sir, I can’t accept this. I only charge 2 copper for one cookie. This is far too much, please take it back.” 

Schaltt panics. It’s been forever since he’s had an economics class and he isn’t sure how much money is a lot of money to common folk. He realizes 5 gold is probably a bit too much, especially after you tell him of what you usually charge. It’s too late to back out now. 

“Nah,” he answers. “I guess it just means you have to give me the rest that’s in the basket.” 

Without hesitation, you hold the basket out for him to take. He’s surprised by your quick movement but carefully takes the basket from your hands. He grabs the cloth that covers the basket gently and carefully pulls it back, revealing a plethora of baked goods, the sight makes his mouth water. “Woah, these look professionally made.” 

You let out a huff and puff out your chest a bit more. “Well I am a professional. And they would look better, but someone caused the basket to hit the ground.” 

His laugh may be the most beautiful thing you have ever heard. It makes your heart flutter and you have to will the heat to not flood your cheeks. “I apologized for that already,” He teases. 

“Yeah well, it still happened didn’t it,” you shoot back. 

He laughs again, which surprises you. Most people would have called you rude by now and left you to stand here alone. But not this strange stranger. You don’t mind his presence though. “You’re funny…” He trails off

You realize he’s waiting for your name and you supply it to him. He echos it back, stating it slowly as if to savor every syllable, to test how it feels on his tongue and his teeth before he hums. “I’m charmed to meet your acquaintance,” He states, reaching out grabbing your hand, bending at the waist, and pressing the back of your hand to his masked lips. It takes everything in you to will the blood to NOT rush to your cheeks. 

He drops your hand before straightening up. “Now if you don’t mind, I will be trying one of these delectable looking desserts.” 

He reaches into the basket and pulls out a chocolate chocolate-chip cookie. “Oh fuck yes. These are my fucking favorite.” 

You can’t stop the grin and giggle that escapes you.

The stranger turns from you and for a moment your heart falls and your stomach turns as you think that he’s walking away from you. But you’re able to see his hand move up to the lower half of his face and you realize he’s pulling his mask down in order to eat. You quickly look away to give the man his privacy. You may be curious as to what he looks like, but you value respecting his choices above all else. 

Holy fuck it’s one of the tastiest things he’s ever eaten. His eyes close as he groans at the taste that fills his mouth. He’s glad he had the sense to turn around and his face and expression from you. He couldn’t imagine how embarrassing he looks right now. 

You hear him let out a groan of approval and you can only assume that something has hit his tongue. “This is delicious.” Your assumptions are confirmed as his voice comes out muffled from the food in his mouth. 

“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” you chide, looking at the bustling people of the market stalls.

Schlatt chuckles, pulling the mask back up and turning back to face you. He’s stunned for a moment to not meet your eyes. Realizing why you’re angled and looking the way that you are. His own heart skips a beat before he clears his throat. He takes a moment to chew and swallow before softly letting you know you’re good to look. 

You’re slightly disappointed to find the mask still in its place but you understand the want for privacy perhaps more than most. “So it was good then?” You ask. 

He nods enthusiastically. “It was fucking amazing. I can’t wait to get back to the castle and try the rest of them.” He says, realizing a moment too late his slip. 

Your brows hit the top of your forehead, “The castle? Do you live in the castle?” You can’t stop the question that falls from your lips.

“Yeah, I’m a guard. I live in the castle, and I’m a guard. Today’s my day off.” He explains. His words are rushed, but who are you to question a man you just met.

You give a couple nods, “I see,” you state simply, “That makes sense.” 

Internally Schlatt lets out a loud breath of relief that you bought the lie. The castle has been his home his entire life and he wasn’t thinking when he spoke so he’s glad you easily bought his excuse of being a guard.

“It makes sense considering you just handed me 5 gold like it’s not more than I will make in two months and King Philza makes sure that the guards get paid an excellent salary… not that he makes sure the rest of the citizens get paid the same. But that’s neither here nor there.” You huff. 

The stranger’s brows lift. “What do you mean by that?” 

Your face burns as you catch what you just admitted. “Oh nothing.” You rush. “Sorry you probably are more than happy with the decisions the king makes. Not to imply anything. Sorry.” 

“No, no it’s alright. I want to hear it.” 

And want to hear it, he does. No one has the guts to speak so plainly to him when they’re around him. So he wants to hear it. The good, the bad and the ugly. 

You clear your throat and square your shoulders. “Well if you insist. Often it feels like the king, the whole royal family really, doesn’t care about those that do not live in the castle. I can’t get a job because no one can afford to hire anyone because everyone is just barely scraping by. It’s like he can’t see past his own front lawn. Which sucks because everyone talks about what a great guy he is, but sometimes I don’t think he’s a very good king.”

Schlatt hums in acknowledgement. You bring up some really good points. He also sometimes feels like his father forgets he’s supposed to be ruling for the people and isn’t supposed to be ruling his son’s life… speaking of. “Well I’m sure you can’t wait for his son to take over the throne then? Schlatt?” He is instantly startled by the loud laughter that bubbles from your throat.

“Schlatt? That big, petty,  man-baby? Yeah. Sure. I’m excited to see how that big man-baby decides to rule the kingdom. You know, I heard that he grew those mutton chops to make himself more unattractive to potential suitors. I think he didn’t realize how fucking good he looks with them. At least from what I’ve seen from a distance. I think he makes them work, and I’m definitely not the only one in the kingdom that agrees. I think he just needs to bite the bullet and just… I don’t know. Do it.” 

Schlatt once again thanks his past self profusely for the idea of wearing a mask to hide his face because he can feel the way his cheeks heat up to what he is sure is a bright red. You’re not particularly wrong. That was the original thought. To make himself look unkempt and not put together in an attempt to drive away potential suitors but he grew to like how they looked and grew fond of the hair. 

“I don’t think he should just bite the bullet and marry the first person that asks for his hand” he defends, “I think he wants to marry for love. Not for some political alliance. I think that’s admirable.” 

“Oh I agree. My apologies. That’s not what I meant. I meant he needs to bite the bullet and be fucking honest with the kingdom. The news that we get from the castle is that he’s the one that’s been rejected. That he wants to find the perfect alliance. That he wants what’s best for the kingdom. And while I agree that maybe he does, he needs to be fucking honest with us and tell us the truth. That he’s looking for love. Not what would ‘be best for the kingdom.’ We don’t mind that’s what’s happening, it’s the fact we’re being lied to, ya know?”

“Huh, so that’s the news that is coming out of the castle… I’ll have to talk to someone about that.” 

Your breath catches slightly. “Shit. Sorry. I don’t want to get either of us in trouble. Forget me and my words. I know not of what I speak.” 

“No, sweets. You have valid points. They deserve to be heard. I won’t mention your name if you wish. But I will make them hear me. I’m actually rather close with the prince.” He can’t help but internally snicker to himself. Closer than you know. 

The blood drains from your face. “Of course you are. Of course I complain about the prince to someone that has direct connection with him… fuck. Okay. Cool. Good to know. Well… I have to go. I have to get my ingredients still and I must be home before stepmother gets there. It was a pleasure meeting you.” You state quickly before attempting to rush past him. 

You're stopped by his hand grasping your shoulder gently, causing you to turn around to face him. “Will I ever see you again?” 

The way he asks is so soft and gentle. It causes your heart to pound loudly and the breath to pause in your throat. “Maybe,” you breathe out. 

The two of you stare at each other for a moment more before it hits you. “I have a carrier pigeon. I’ll send it with a letter to the castle and we can talk like that. Maybe sometime we can meet again. Maybe on one of your days off.” 

The man’s beautiful brown eyes light up with delight. “That would be amazing. I look forward to hearing from you.” He allows his hand to trail from your shoulder, down your arm, to your hand, and he lifts the hand to his lips before placing a kiss to it. He gives you a soft wink as he drops your hand. You turn away as you blush, willing yourself to calm down. 

“Oh!” You startle, “I forgot to ask your name-“ the words die on your lips to find the spot next to you vacated with the tall stranger nowhere in sight. “Great. Just great… well. I better get going. Those cookies won’t bake themselves.” 

Schlatt has never felt so giddy. He can’t wait to hear from you. He also realizes he never gave you a name, he’ll just have to keep his eye out for a new and unfamiliar carrier pigeon.

 

You debate with yourself when you get home what the proper waiting time is for sending a stranger a letter with the pigeon. Because you wrote one as soon as you got home and it was ready to send within two hours of meeting him. Sending one that quickly may spook him. It could cause him to think you’re weird. 

You decide you’ll wait a couple hours, bake cookies and make dinner and then when your stepmother allows you to retire to your room, that is when you’ll send it. And so that is what you do. You check over the letter a thousand times before you tuck it into the envelope and hand it to your carrier pigeon. “To the castle pigeon, look for a man with brown hair and brown eyes… well that’s specific huh?... I really should have gotten his name. Okay… well… I guess we will half to wing it.” You scribble down something on the envelope and hand it to the pigeon who takes it with its foot and flies off to the castle. 

Schlatt is taking a stroll in the gardens, kicking himself for not asking for a better way to contact you. He hadn’t heard anything from you and at this point he’s worrying he never will. He’s spent most of his time analyzing the conversation over and over again in his head and realized that he probably came off too strong and too weird and he will be lucky to ever see you again. 

He jumps as a pigeon lands on his shoulder,to his head snapping to the side to meet the wide, vacant eye of the bird. It gives a soft coo before shaking and moving its foot, drawing attention to the letter in its grasp. His heart leaps to his throat in hope before he swallows and carefully takes it. 

He grins at the writing on the front of the envelope. “Sir Charmed, lover of chocolate chip cookies.” Instantly all his worries melt away as he plucks the letter from its hiding and he reads the words. Once. Twice. A Hundred times. Schlatt rushes inside to carefully compose his response. 

You don’t go a day without hearing from each other for the next couple of weeks. You exchange letters. You tell him about your life and how you got your love of baking, and your want of leaving the house. He tells you the pressures of his job and how sometimes he just wants to run away from it all and explore the world. You make him promise that if he does, he’ll take you with him. He promises. 

You forget to get his name and at this point you’re too embarrassed to ask him for it, instead electing to call him a bunch of nicknames, mainly being Sir Charming, hoping he never catches on. He never seems to. 

The two of you agree to meet up once more, somewhere a little more quiet than the market square, but still public (because you have to be proper.) You’re sure to wear the cutest outfit you can manage to put together and bake the best batches of cookies you’ve ever baked. 

“Where are you going?” Ted asks with his brow raised, watching Schlatt with his arms crossed as Schlatt sneaks through the castle halls. 

Schlatt freezes and slowly turns. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Sureeeee,” Ted draws, not convinced at all. “You’re just creeping through the halls in one of your best outfits going… nowhere.” 

Schlatt sighs, not being able to hide from his best friend. “I’m going to meet them.” 

Ted raises an eyebrow. “Them? The one you’ve been writing all those letters to? Are you sure that’s a good idea” 

“I know that it is. Please. Cover for me?”

Ted sighs but can’t deny Schlatt has been happier in the past couple weeks than he has been for the past couple months. “Okay fine. But you’d better bring me back one of those sugar cookies.” 

Schlatt gives Ted a toothy grin. “We’ll see.” 

You give him a shy smile as he appears. “Hey, you,” you greet standing, wiping your hands on your pants. 

“Hey sweets,” he greets back, his voice muffled through the mask still adorned on his face. You didn’t mind too much. He explained that it made him more comfortable, especially because in his work he has to wear something to cover his face under the helmet, it’s just easier for him to wear it. As much as you want to see his entire face, you were willing to respect his choices. 

“How are you?” 

“Can’t complain, especially now that I get to see your beauty standing before me.” 

You can’t stop the blush that floods your cheeks. “Oh hush. Here. I’ve made you something special.” You tell him, turning and grabbing the special baked good that you made him. “It’s a chocolate chocolate-chip brookie. Or a double chocolate chip cookie baked inside a brownie. I remember you said that you loved brownies and cookies and sometimes can’t choose which to have so I made you both… well two in one.” 

You raise your hand with one of the treats toward him, facing the basket still, still trying to will down the blush on your cheeks.

“Well, don’t mind if I do,” you have to hold in the jump as you feel his soft breath against your hand. You will yourself to stay in place as his lips brush against your outstretched fingers as he gently takes a bite out of the treat in your hand. A loud groan escapes him, similar to the one you heard the day the two of you met. “Okay, I take back everything I’ve said… This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.” 

All of your hard work is ruined as the blood rushes back to your cheeks into a blush. “What have I told you about talking with your mouth full?” You deflect 

The treat is removed from your hand, his fingers brushing against your palm. “My apologies, your highness.” His words are even more mumbled, telling you he shoved the brookie all the way into his mouth. 

You scoff. “Careful now, you’ll get me hung for treason with that nickname.”

His laugh garbled out around the baked good. “Surely the king isn’t that cruel.” His hand rests on your shoulder and turns you to face him, the mask sitting on his face once again. 

You laugh back and shrug, “I don’t know. I’ve never met the man.” 

“Well I have. So I guess you’ll just have to take my word for it.” 

“Is that so?... I guess I’ll just have to trust you then.” 

You stare into his brilliant and beautiful eyes for a while longer before he moves, clearing his throat and gesturing forward, “Shall we then?” 

“I am getting sick of these games you’re playing, Jonathan.” King Philza booms loudly. 

Schlatt rolls his eyes and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I’m not playing games with you father, I’ve told you. I want to marry for-”

“For love. I understand. But how can you marry for love when you push away every single option I give you. You haven’t given yourself a chance to fall in love with anyone I have brought before you and I am growing tired of it. If you do not pick someone within the next month, I will be choosing someone for you. End of story. Am I understood?”

Schlatt internally panics. He knew this day was coming. He knew he was pushing his father too far. He had held out for too long. His stomach drops… There’s only one person he could see himself marrying at this point… 

Assuming he had been understood, Philza turns to walk out the door. “Let’s throw a ball,” the words tumble from Schlatt’s lips. 

Phil turns back around with an eyebrow raised. “A ball?”

“You want me to marry quickly. I want to marry for love. So what better way than to throw a ball, invite everyone in the kingdom, emphasizing the invitations for single people, and then I’ll be able to talk and dance with people all night. And I swear to you, if we throw this ball I will find a betrothed by the end of the month.”

Phil is silent for a while. Tossing the words over in his head for a moment before giving a single nod. “So be it.” He then turns and exits the room. 

Schlatt lets out a harsh breath. Well that was easier than expected. Now to convince you to come to a ball. 

It takes less convincing than one might think. 

You get a letter from your Sir Charming, who tells you there will be a ball and that he wants you to come as his guest. He tells you that you’d be able to bring some of your baked goods to give out to nobles to promote your baking, plus you’d be able to see him. You hate to admit how much the latter of the two sold you on the idea. You sent back your acceptance of the invitation. 

The money you’ve gotten from selling your baked goods is supposed to go to a moving out fund, but you can’t help but take out a couple of the gold pieces that he gave you in the first meeting, finding it only fitting that his money buys your outfit for the ball

It’s a really pretty outfit, it fits you well enough, you had to buy it a size larger because they didn’t have your size and you didn’t have enough money to get it tailored. But it didn’t matter that much to you. Your mystery man had seen you in grubbier garment, anything would be a step up from what you met him in. 

The news of the ball gets announced to the entire kingdom, and your stepmother is perhaps more excited than you are. She thinks at least one of her daughters will win the heart of the prince. When you voice your want to go, she forbids you. You tell her that you don’t even want to be in the presence of the prince, you just want to see the snack table, she sneers at you but says nothing further, making you believe that perhaps she will allow you to go. 

You find yourself in your kitchen, finishing up some of the baked goods you were to take to the ball tonight. The loud clacking of your stepmother’s heels echo on the tile, the door swings open, your stepmother enters in a rage. Your heart stops as you look up from your desserts and see your outfit clutched in her hands. 

“What is this?” She hisses, waving the fabric at you as she gets closer. 

“My outfit for the ball,” you answer as calmly as you can, speaking around the lump in your throat. 

“Oh!” She lets out in mock surprise, “Is it now? I thought you said you were not going to be trying to win the attention of the prince.” 

You furrow your brow and remain standing straight with your shoulders squared back, “I am not. I have no intention of wooing the prince, stepmother.” 

“Then why have you chosen to wear such an attention seeking outfit? Surely you were planning on going behind my and my daughter’s back. I should have known you were going to do something like this.”

“Please, stepmother. You must believe me. I have no--” 

“I do not believe you, you little wench. You’ve always have looked for ways out of this house, to one up me and my daughters. I will stand for this no more.” 

You want so badly to lash out, to rip the outfit from her hands, go running from the room, and get dressed. But you can’t move. You can barely breathe. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, your stomach turning, and your body locking up. You can only watch as your stepmother glides over to the stove. Her eyes glide over the stove top before smirking. She dunks the outfit into the melted chocolate you were going to use to cover some of the treats. 

To make matters worse, part of the cloth flops over the edge of the pan and lands directly on the open flame that was on to melt the chocolate. Your stepmother lets out a triumphant laugh as the outfit catches fire, turning around and leaving the kitchen.

The sound of the door closing behind her causes you to leap into action finally. You rip the outfit out of the pot and toss it in the sink, dousing it with water, extinguishing the flame. The chocolate clings to the fabric, refusing to let go easily as you put your entire being into scrubbing the outfit. 

Sobs begin falling from your lips as you realize, even if you get all of the chocolate out of this outfit, it will never dry in time for the ball. Plus. you don’t have fabric to sew up the part where the flame ate part of it. Your outfit is ruined. Your plans are ruined. The night is ruined. 

You barely register your stepmother calling for your stepsisters, telling them it was time to go, and the door opening and closing behind them. The world seems to spin around you, sinking you to your knees as you sob loudly, clutching the soaking web fabric to your chest. 

The cool tile welcomes you, the warmth of the oven soothes you, and the wetness of the outfit grounds you. The sobs turn into soft hiccups then to silent sniffles as you stare in front of you. Mentally you begin to write your apology letter to Sir Charming about your abscess from the ball. How you were going to go, you really were, you just didn’t have anything suitable to wear. 

He’ll probably ask you why you didn’t plan better. He’ll probably be angry. He may not want to speak to you again. You’ll just have to deal with it and beg for forgiveness. And if he decides not to forgive you…. You’ll just have to live with it. 

A soft knock echoes from the front door. You’re so in your own head, you’re not sure it’s a real sound, but then it comes again, a little louder this time. You muse it may be one of your steps who forgot something and didn’t think to bring a key. 

In a zombie-like fashion, you let the fabric drop from your hands before standing up slowly. It almost feels as if you’re floating as you move to the front door. Your hand somehow finds the doorknob, unlocking it, before turning it and opening it up. 

You startle slightly at the sight in front of you. A frail looking older man stands before you. He has grey hair, a hunchback, and a shawl that comes up and covers the top of his head and shoulders. “Oh… hello. Can I help you?” You ask softly, looking out past him wondering where he came from. Your house wasn’t necessarily in the middle of nowhere, but you definitely had your privacy from neighbors. You lived on the edge of the kingdom, no one ever really comes out here. 

“Hello there, deary.” His voice is kind and his lips turn upwards slightly. “I am sorry to bother you at this time of night, but I was just on my way home and my stomach let out an awful grumble and I was just wondering if you could spare a bite to eat? I won’t take much, I promise, just something to get me home.”

You don’t know what made you trust this stranger, maybe it was just your deep need to help those around you, maybe you were still in shock from what your stepmother had done minutes… an hour? You’re not sure. But you give him a smile. “Oh yes, of course. Please come in sir. Lucky for you, I was just making something sweet. So you can snack on that while I make you dinner.” 

You move out of the way and let the man enter your house. 

“Oh, please deary, no need to make me a whole meal.” 

“Nonsense,” you answer, guiding him into the kitchen, “I want to make sure you’re well fed for your journey home.” You hand him some of the cookies from the counter. “Here, make yourself at home.”

The man takes the cookie from your hands gently before sitting himself down at the counter. “You are far too kind… I wasn’t even sure anyone would be home. I heard the royal family is throwing a ball, and everyone is invited.” 

You can’t help the laugh that falls from your lips as you begin making dinner for this kind man. “Yes, well, my stepmother believed me unworthy to attend… went as far as to destroy my outfit…” you take a moment to look down at the outfit, still soaking at your feet. You snap yourself out of the stupor, “Sorry. Not to dump.” 

The man hums as he takes a bite of the cookie. “I see…. Oh this is delicious. You should run a bakery.” He exclaims. 

A shy smile plays on your lips as you plate his food. “That’s the goal…One day. Thank you… Anyway, dinner is served!” You place the plate in front of him, your smile growing. 

The man instantly digs in and hums in delight at the taste. The two of you converse as he eats, he talks about his life and you give him more insight into yours. Telling him of how you got your love of baking and your hopes of owning a bakery, but not working for the baker in the village. 

Soon, he’s down to his last bite of dinner. He pops it in his mouth before leaning back into his chair. “Wow, that hit the spot. Thank you again deary, for dinner and the delightful conversation…” 

You give him a smile, “Of course, it’s my pleasure… I just realized I never got your name.” 

“You can call me Quackity…AKA” 

Suddenly golden light surrounds the man in front of you, forcing a gasp out of your lips. “What’s going on?” You exclaim as the light draws closer to the man, glowing brighter. 

Through squinted eyes, you watch the wrinkles fall from the man’s face. It’s as if an ink pot spills from the shawl the rests on his head, his hair turning black. The fabric morphs into a dark grey beanie that remains covering the top part of his hair. His spine straightens, his outfit morphing into a sharp tuxedo with golden wings protruding from his back. His piercing eyes, suddenly getting covered by black sunglasses. 

The golden motes of light fade from existence, the old man no longer in front of you, a young man now sitting before you. 

“Your fairy godmother…father…papi? Ah who knows.” 

You stare wide-eyed, mouth agape at the man that now sits in front of you. “What the fuck?” You whisper. “Who are you?”

The young man tilts his head and gives a playful grin. “I just told you, silly. I’m your fairy god-Papi. You can also call me Quackity. But I’ve watched over you, and I had to make sure you were still a good person. We don’t have time for the full backstory, we have a ball to get you too, dulces.” 

You stare at him, your mouth moving like a fish out of water. “What are you talking about? I can’t go to the ball, my outfit is ruined, I don’t have a way to get there. I can’t… Don’t you have to get home?” 

Quackity laughs causing you to pout to play on your lips. Quackity notices, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh, you’re just too sweet. I know you think we just met, but you have to trust me. You’ve already let me in your home, you may as well trust me to do this as well.” 

You puff up your cheeks with air as you toss your thoughts back and forth, debating his words. Maybe you’re asleep. Maybe you crashed and fell asleep on the kitchen floor and this is all just a dream. At this point, that would make the most sense. You pinch the skin on your thigh, flinching but looking around. When nothing around you changes, you’re forced to take this situation as reality. Incredibly weird, fucked up reality. 

You meet Quackity’s bright eyes again, his kind smile never fading. “Okay.” You speak softly, letting your shoulders relax. “I trust you.” 

His grin grows bigger and he claps his hands once in delight, holding them in front of his chest for a brief moment, looking you over excitedly. “I knew I chose you for a reason. Let’s get this done then, shall we?” 

Quackity claps twice and the golden light fills your vision again, this time though, they’re surrounding you. Your clothes shift and change, the fabric changes and gets tighter to your body. Your hair moves around on its own, which feels weird at first, but then you realize that it feels like someone is doing your hair and you think back to your mother and father doing your hair when you were little. You feel the flour and the sugar fall from your face and your fingertips as the light cleans you up. 

Your gaze moves down to your feet and your breath catches at the shoes you now adorn. They’re breathtaking, literally apparently. They’re made of glass, the majority of the shoe being see through, but a gorgeous pattern of color, as if spun sugar swirled throughout. They’re insanely comfortable too. You’d think that shoes made of glass would be uncomfortable, but they’re not. They’re perhaps the most comfortable shoes you’ve ever worn. 

Soon, the light fades and you turn to find Quackity holding a mirror. The outfit is beautiful and truly made for a ball. It’s actually your size and fits you well in all of the right places. Your hair is beautiful as well, pulled back to show your face, but is done up in an intricate way. Your face, as you felt, is clear of the evidence of your baking. 

“I look good,” you whisper, turning slightly, examining yourself from different angles. 

“I know, I did well, didn’t I?” Quackity boasts, the feathers of his wings ruffling at the slight praise. 

You look from the mirror to catch his gaze. “You did. But I still don’t have a way there, I don’t want to walk.” 

Quackity shakes their head. “Oh yee of little faith. Grab those boxes of treats and follow me.” 

You whip around and find all of the baked goods you were working on packed neatly in your boxes. The magic must have moved them while you were getting dolled up. You blinked away the happy tears and scooped up the boxes and scurried out the door after Quackity. 

You stand back and watch as Quackity waves his hands around, the golden magic illuminating the dark night. It swirls around a pumpkin in your garden you were planning on using for a pie when it got ripe, making it grow larger and larger, changing from a thick orange pumpkin skin to a brilliant white carriage with golden details. 

The sheep that wanders your small farm gets surrounded by the light and is transformed into a beautiful woman who bends at the waist in front of you. “My lady,” she speaks. You curtsy back at her, giggling. You can’t believe this is real. 

Two field mice get transformed into a carriage driver and their assistant. Your carrier pigeon you’ve been using gets enlarged into a giant pigeon which the driver and assistant immediately move to get the pigeon hooked up to the carriage. Quackity moves over to stand by you, grinning as the golden light fades away as everything comes to order. “Ta da!” He says, holding his hands out and wiggling his fingers towards to new carriage and humans there to take you to the ball.

You can’t stop yourself from turning to him and throwing your arms around him, pulling him closely to you. He lets out a soft “oof” but wraps his arms around you, squeezing you tightly. “Thank you so much… fairy god….papi.” 

Quackity barks out a laugh but squeezes you tighter. “Of course, dulces. Now, this magic doesn’t come without a downside.” He says, pulling away and looking you in the eye. “Nothing too bad, but the magic will fade at midnight. The carriage will go back to a pumpkin, the footman back to mice and your sheep lady to a sheep. Your outfit will fade. It will all end at midnight. So, go, have fun at the ball, eat, drink, make friends, do it all. But when that clock strikes midnight, run like hell little lady.” 

You give him a short nod. “I understand… thank you. Will I ever see you again?” 

Quackity smiles softly, his hand moving to cup your cheek. “I’ll never be far away from you, dulces.” 

You know that means probably not, buy you decide to ignore it as you give him another hug. 

He hugs you back before  pulling away again. “Enough sap, you have a ball to go to. Go on! Get!” He pushes you toward the open door of the carriage. You giggle, gather the boxes of baked goods you had set down, and move to the carriage. 

Puffy, the lady in waiting, climbs in the carriage after you, closing the door behind her, before hitting the top of the carriage, causing the driver to give a shout and the carriage rocks forward. 

You glance out the window toward the house and find Quackity watching the carriage leave, his hands pressed to his chest. You bring your hand up and give a small wave. Quackity raises his hand and waves after you, until you cannot see him any longer. 

Schlatt was going a little crazy. It was as if the entire kingdom had shown up. Everyone was here. Everyone but you. You had promised that you would come in the letter that you sent a week ago, but maybe you had changed your mind. He hopes you hadn’t though. Afterall, he swore to his father he would be betrothed by the end of this night. 

He had met countless single village people, all trying to bat their eyes hard enough to make him take a second glance, but none of them were you. He found himself slumping down in his throne, brushing off the glare his father threw over his shoulder. Pretending not to hear the, “This is what you wanted. At least act like you want to be here.” He hissed over. Schlatt just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. 

It becomes apparent he has met everyone here tonight and still no sign of you. Until there’s a large commotion by the snack table. His gaze shoots over and his heart picks up at the sight. It’s you. You look so different from the other times he’s seen you, but it is you. He’s on his feet in an instant and rushing over. 

You arrive later than everyone else at the ball, but honestly you’re totally okay with that. Less attention to yourself. You give a small bow to your servants for the evening, giving your carrier pigeon a few scritches before ducking into the castle. You hope you’ll be able to find your Sir Charming quickly so you can stick to him for the entire night. You decide you’ll first hit up the snack table to set up your baked goods and sign for the other nobles to taste just like Sir Charming said to do. 

You find the table is already packed with baked goods from the bakery. You take it upon yourself to begin moving some of the treats over to make room for your treats. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” A familiar voice booms from behind you. 

You roll your eyes at the voice but turn around and face the baker, Mr. Lou Hamani. “I was invited to display my baked goods at this ball. So I’m simply making room.” You answer before turning back around and putting more desserts out. 

Lou moves to stand beside you at the table and begins to grab at your treats. “I think not you disrespectful child. I am being paid by the king’s advisor himself for these desserts. I will not have you screwing over my chance to impress the nobles that are here today at this ball. You will pack up and leave at once.” 

“I will do no such thing, I was invited to set up shop here by a castle staff member and I intend to do so.” You huff. Lou pays your words no mind and continues to gather up the things you’ve baked in his arms. “Hey, put those down. Give those back.” If he hears you he pretends like he doesn’t and cotiunes what he’s doing. It’s then you begin to try and grab your treats out of his hands. 

The baker snaps at you, “get your hands off of me.” 

“Give me my things back!” 

You’re so invested in what is going on in front of you that you don’t realize that the entire ballroom’s eyes are on you. 

In the middle of your squabble, someone loudly clears their throat. You then realize you’re in public and everyone can see you. You decide to still not care and face it with confidence. The baker looks over his shoulder and seems to pale at the sight. Your brow slightly furrows and you turn around. 

Deep pools of chestnut brown lock with yours and they’re just as fucking beautiful as the day you first met them. They fill you with a sense of calm, but at the same time nerves as butterflies fill your stomach. You think you will never tire of looking him in the eyes. 

You find your eyes drifting down and you feel your stomach lurch and your heart stop. You’re seeing his face uncovered for the first time. He’s so fucking handsome… 

So fucking handsome with those god fucking damn mutton chops. 

“Your highness,” you hear the baker greet shakily from behind you. 

Your thoughts are confirmed. The man you met that day in the market, the one you’ve been sending letters to, the one you met once more, the one you’ve been slowly developing feelings for. Is Prince fucking Schlatt himself. Of fucking course he never told you his name. Of fucking course he never showed his face. It’s been him this whole time. 

Oh fuck. 

You’ve shit talked about him to his fucking face. 

You’re fucked. 

Gods. You look beautiful. He didn’t know anyone could ever look this good. He’s so fucking happy you came. 

His eyes meet yours and he can tell you’re in shock. He was a bit surprised you figured it out, that your Sir Charming was actually the prince. The other part of him feels fuzzy that you can recognize him just from his eyes. He can only hope that you forgive him for lying to you. 

“Mr. Hamani,” He greets easily, his eyes not leaving yours. He’s trying to decipher what it is you’re thinking, but your shocked expression masks any else you may be thinking. “Would you kindly unhand my favorite baked goods from my favorite baker? You’ll have to forgive me sir, while I find your treats delicious, I find theirs simply irresistible. I invited them and told them to set up shop here. I apologize that no one informed you in advance.” 

The baker stutters but gives a quick bow. “Of course, your highness. No need to apologize to me. I was simply surprised at their appearance is all. They have always been rather disruptive and I wanted to ensure it wasn’t something of that sort happening again… I apologize, your highness.” 

Schlatt gives a simple wave of his hand. “Forgiven.” He speaks. 

The baker dumps the treats from his hands back on \to the table and scurries away. Schlatt strides over and snatches up a double chocolate chip cookie and takes a bite, moaning at the taste, before turning to face you. He gives a shy smile. 

“Hello.” 

“Hello,” he states softly as if nerves have invaded his entire stomach. As if he has a right to be nervous after the shit he let you get away with. 

“Hello,” You answer tensely. 

The two of you stand there, staring at each other for a moment. You haven’t even noticed that the entire ballroom is still at a standstill, staring. 

You’re the first to move. You charge forward at him, your finger rising in the air, pointing directly at him. “You. I can’t believe that you-” 

Prince Schlatt grabs your hand out of the air, bows, and brings the back of your hand up to his lips. The feeling of his soft lips on your hand sets the flesh there ablaze. You feel your face flush with searing heat along with the heat that floods your entire body. He mutters your name softly, lips still pressed to your hand, sending butterflies soaring in your stomach. 

“Prince Schlatt.” You utter, curtsying slightly. 

He stands back up to his full height and gives you a soft, lopsided grin. “May I have this dance?” 

All of the heated words you wanted to sling his way die on your tongue. You can’t help but wonder if this is all a prank. Like if you accept, he is going to laugh in your face and you’re going to be tossed in the dungeon. 

But then you meet his eyes. 

Those damn fucking eyes. 

They tell you so much, you’re surprised they didn’t tell you who you had been speaking to this entire time. 

They tell you to trust him. That he truly means what he is saying. That he wants nothing more than for you to say yes, because he wants to dance with you. Truly, deeply, wants to dance with you.

Hope. 

His eyes fill with hope. 

And how can you say no to hope. 

“You may.” 

Schlatt is probably the happiest he’s ever been when you accept his offer to dance. His grin widens significantly before he leads you to the middle of the ballroom. He bows to you and you curtsy. The band strikes up a beautiful waltz song and the two of you begin to dance. 

He notices that you’re working hard to follow his moves. It dawns on him that you are indeed a commoner and so you don’t have the dance training drilled into you as he has. He slows his pace down and smiles brightly as your shoulders sag in relief as you catch up with him. 

“Sorry,” you mumble for a third time as you step on his toes once more. 

“Please stop apologizing. I do not mind. Truly…” 

He stares at you beaming, trying to make you see the truth. You seem to only slightly believe him. He clears his throat and pauses for a moment. “Here, step on my feet. I’ll move us around the ballroom.” 

He smiles through you raising your eyebrows as if to ask if he was serious. He nods encouragingly. 

You realize that he’s not going to move again until you comply. So you do. You carefully step both of your feet onto his, praying the glass shoes are as comfortable on top of his feet as they are on yours. If they’re not, he makes no show of it. His smirk grows impossibly wide and begins to move around once more. 

The rest of the room fades away. He can see no others in the ballroom. His gaze is focused on you and you alone. He whispers jokes to you and feels his heart warm when you toss your head back in laughter. 

With you, he’s not the prince. 

He’s just Schlatt. 

He couldn’t be more thankful for you.

You couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed as Prince Schlatt dances you across the room. Your father always told you not paying attention to your mother’s dance lessons would come back to bite you. You never thought you’d see the day that would come to fruition. 

But he moved you around with such ease that it made you feel as if you were floating. It didn’t matter you didn’t know how to dance, he was there. He was helping you through. He was there for you. 

Your mind takes that thought and runs with it. 

You think back to you waiting everyday eagerly for his letters to arrive. The way you blossomed under his praise, both of you and your baking. Ever since the moment you met him, he always was there to catch you. You can’t think of a single moment in the past couple months where your mind wasn’t filled with the thoughts of him. 

He has always been there. 

The music ends and the two of you bow to each other. A round of applause startles the two of you out of your bubble. You look around and find several other couples had joined you on the dance floor, but most people had stayed pressed on the sidelines, watching the dances. Those are the ones that were now applauding. Your face flushes once more and you duck your head down as you step off of Prince Schaltt’s feet and away from him. 

If the prince notices you trying to put distance between the two of you, he doesn’t make it known. He instead grabs your hand once more, pressing another kiss to the back of your hand. 

“Come on, I must introduce you.” He states simply before moving towards the front of the room where his family sat. 

Your heart leaps to your throat, eyes widening as the royal family draws nearer and nearer. Somewhere in your brain had registered that if your Sir Charming was the Prince Schlatt, then his father would then be King Philza. But that didn’t actually click until now. 

Until the King, Queen, and other Prince were rising to meet you. 

“Father, Mother… brother,” Schlatt greets with a wide smile giving them a bow. “It is my honor to introduce you to my guest of honor for the evening.” You can barely believe it’s your name that then falls from his lips. 

Through the fog in your head, you thank yourself for remembering to give a deep bow to the royal family of the land. “Your majesties. Thank you for allowing me… everyone into your home. Everything about this ball is beautiful and perfect.” You give yourself a pat on the back for sliding in that compliment. 

“Everything except the pastries from the local baker it seems.” King Philza’s tone is so deep and regal it’s incredibly hard to register the joking tone. 

You swallow hard. “Forgive me, your highness. Mr. Hamani and I have never gotten along. I should not have brought our feud inside your home.” 

King Philza gives a dismissive wave. 

“It’s quite alright, dear.” Queen Kristen speaks up, her tone soft and gentle. “Sometimes men allow their egos to get in the way.” 

You can’t help but giggle along with her and nod along. 

“Dear!” King Philza lets out in a slight aghast tone. 

“Oh do not tell me I am wrong, my love. You should know this better than anyone.” 

The King does not have a response back for that. He instead turns back around and catches your eye. His gaze is so piercing you cannot help but look down at your feet. “We will not keep you any longer. Please, enjoy the ball.” 

“But I haven’t had a chance to talk with them yet!” Prince Tommy whines, stepping forward to stand with his father. 

The King rests a hand on his back and opens his mouth to speak but Prince Schaltt cuts him off. “Nor will you ever. We are off to enjoy the ball now. Farewell.” 

Before anyone in his family can get a word in, Prince Schlatt pulls you away. He beelines to the snack table, the people around it parting to allow him access to the table. Almost all of your baked goods are gone, stuffed in the hands of the attendees, all wanting to see just what made Prince Schlatt deny the local baker. 

Schlatt snaggs two of the double chocolate chip cookies and one of the brookies from the table and continues on his way, still pulling you away. Instead of stopping somewhere in the grand ballroom, he pulls you completely out of the castle and into the royal gardens. 

He stops in front of a bench in front of a fountain. He takes a seat and pats the bench next to him, silently inviting you to sit down. 

You do not sit down.

Instead, you take a couple paces back and forth in front of him, before you turn on your heel to face him. “I cannot fucking believe you!” You finally let out all of your nerves and frustrations into the sentence. 

Prince Schlatt startles slightly, coughing as a crumb of his cookies go down the wrong pipe. He clears his throat and goes to speak up but you don’t give him the chance. 

“You fucking asshole. You let me talk shit about your father… about you to your face the first time we met. Let me talk about your mutton chops. Never stopping to correct me or let me know who you were. You let me call you Sir Charming, never once stopping to tell me your name. How did I let this go this far? You let me write you letters everyday and you wrote me back! You told me so much about you and your life, but didn’t tell me this? This seems pretty fucking big, your highness. Oh my fucking gods. Oh my gods. I can’t fucking believe you. Holy fucking shit. You’re such a fucking asshole.” 

You can’t stop your hand from coming up and slapping his shoulder, pushing him back, not hard enough to push him off but hard enough to prove a point. 

He says nothing for a few moments, letting you breathe through it and calm down, before a grin splits his face. “Yeah. But it was hot. I liked being put in my place during our first meeting. It was interesting to hear your perspective. Someone talking to a complete stranger, not trying to kiss my ass and make me feel good about myself… though with the way you were talking about my chops, maybe you did just a bit of the latter anyway.” 

You let out a frustrated groan as the heat floods your cheeks. “Fuck you.” 

He reaches out and cups your cheek, bringing you down a bit to press a kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, yeah.” 

You take a few more deep breaths before allowing yourself to plop down beside him. You rest your head against his shoulder, forgetting your properness for a moment, taking another deep breath. “I can’t fucking believe you.” You mutter one final time. 

Schlatt turns and presses a kid to the top of your head before resting his head on the top of your head. He lets the silence sit for a while before he clears his throat and speaks again. “I am sorry, by the way.” 

You don’t speak, which he’s partially grateful for, it allows him to process his thoughts further. But on the other hand, he can’t see your face so he can’t tell if the silence is back. 

“I am sorry for not telling you. For lying about who I am… I… You didn’t know me and yet I wanted to know you…but I knew I wouldn’t get that chance if I was honest about who I was. You had a preconceived notion about who I am and I wanted a chance to show you that’s not all of who I am… I didn’t mean for the lie to go on this long. And I do feel back for lying. And I really am sorry.” 

Your silence kills him. His heart hammers in his chest. But then he feels you turn and nervously press a quick kiss to his cheek. “I forgive you.” The three words are the sweetest he’s ever fall from the lips of another. “I get it. I appreciate your apology and I forgive you, Prince Schlatt.” 

“Jonathon.” 

The name escapes his lips before he can stop it. 

“Hmm?” You hum, pull your head from his shoulder to look him in the eye, your brows furrowed. 

His eyes meet your and his heart pounds quickly in his chest. His stomach turning over and over again, churning with nerves. “Jonathon. My name is Jonathon. Call me Jonathon.” 

“Jonathon.” You echo. 

Schlatt takes back his previous thoughts. Several people have called him his given name before. But this? Now? When it falls from your lips? It is certainly the sweetest it has ever sounded. 

He gives a small nod with a shy smile. 

“I forgive you, Jonathon.” 

He could pass away right then and there. 

“I’m sorry I had to step on your feet so you could dance me around the ballroom.” 

“I forgive you… would you like me to teach you how to dance?”

“Would you?” 

“I would. I wouldn’t offer if I wouldn’t.” 

“I don’t want to dance in front of everyone.”

“Who said anything about going back to the ballroom. We can dance right here.” 

Schlatt leads you through several steps very slowly, picking up the pace only after he was sure you were comfortable with the steps. 

Soon enough you were dancing like a pro. So much so that you could focus on the conversation between the two of you rather than the steps you were taking. 

The two of you talked and danced privately in the gardens all night. You offered several times to go back to the ballroom, the man throwing the ball should at least be in there for longer than a couple moments. He ignored that and said he would rather spend time with the one he threw it for. You can’t help but blush at that. 

You’re having such a fun time that you almost forget about the magic’s stipulation. Almost. 

 Jonathon spins you around once more, and pulls you in close to his chest. When you look up at him, you see he’s suddenly a lot closer than you realized. “Oh!” you let out softly. “Sorry,” you apologize, going to move away. 

Jonathon’s hold on you tightens, keeping you in place. “No need to be sorry… I like having you close,” he whispers. Your eyes stray down to his lips as he speaks. They look so soft… so plush… so kissable. 

“I like being close to you,” the confession uttered before you can stop it. 

The corners of his lips up turn in a small smile. The two of you stand there, frozen in time for a moment before he begins to lean in. You move to meet him. Your lips are about to meet when the grandfather clock that sits across the garden echoes out a loud chime. 

It causes you to jump and turn to look at it. 

It’s midnight. 

“Oh fuck.” You let out. “Is that clock accurate?” You ask, pulling yourself from Jonathan’s arms. 

He frowns, brows furrowing slightly, following your gaze. “Oh that old thing? Uhhh, just about. It’s 15 minutes fast. Why?” 

You ignore his question and begin to move back toward the inside of the castle. “Fuck. I have to go. I’m sorry. I’ll see you later. I have to go.” 

“Wait,” He calls after you, calling your name. “Slow down. Come back. Please. You don’t have to leave.” 

“You don’t understand,” You call back, picking up your pace. “I do.” 

Without paying attention, you burst back into the ballroom. Several eyes falling on you, eyebrows raised. You pay no mind still and run, trying to push your way past everyone in the room, but people keep coming up to you to talk to you. 

A hand on your wrist spins you around and you lock eyes with those beautiful chestnuts you’ve grown so fond of. His eyes scream worry and panic, silently begging you to stop running. 

You yourself must look panicked and frantic in a different way. Like a wild animal that has been caged and is about to start lashing out. 

“Please.” You whisper. “Help me.” 

The grip on your wrist loosens. Schlatt may not understand, but he will always do everything he can in order to be the person you need at any given moment. 

“Everyone!” He calls out loudly, moving towards the refreshment table. “Please come over here and join me in a toast to celebrate this evening.” 

The crowd instantly leaves you, allowing you a path to exit the room and then the castle. You’ve never been happier to see the grass as you are now. 

“Stop! Wait! Halt in the name of the Prince!” You turn slightly and look over your shoulder and find a knight with fluffy brown hair and square glasses chasing after you. In the moment, you recognize him as Charlie, one of Schlatt’s best friends/knights. 

“Oh fuck!” You shout. The magic was starting to fade already, you can tell, because all of the sudden it was hard to run in your glass shoes. You bend down and kick them both into your awaiting hands. You turn for a sharp moment, throwing one of your shoes at the knight. He lets out a loud startled scream, stopping for just long enough for you to run to your carriage. 

“Go! Go! Go!” You shout at your footmen and lady. They waste no time before kicking up and bolting out and away from the palace. You look out the window and find Charlie has stopped chasing you, one hand on his hip, the other holding your glass shoe up to the light in an inspection. 

You slump back in your seat, letting out a deep sigh. 

“That was way too close.” 

After getting all of his guests to make a toast, Schlatt books it out of the ballroom. He races to the front lawn. His head whips back and forth, peering down the road to try and see any sign of a moving carriage. 

Footsteps sound from either side of him. His head turns and he meets the eyes of Ted who gives a pitying look and a shake of his head. Schlatt looks to the other side and meets Charlie’s eyes who also shakes his head. His eyes drift down to Charlie’s hands, and there was the shoe. Your beautiful glass shoe. 

Schlatt slowly reaches out and carefully takes the shoe from his friend’s grasp and clutches it to his chest. He turns his eyes back down the main road, staring off letting out a soft sigh. Hands clasp on both of his shoulders in a silent comfort. 

The magic faded when you were nearly home. You had to herd a sheep, two mice, and your carrier pigeon back home all while carrying your big ass pumpkin in slightly damp clothes barefoot as you had thrown your one shoe and taken off the other. Your shoe though did not fade with the magic, you weren’t sure if that made you happy or sad. By the time you made it back, you were exhausted. You quickly put everything back where it was supposed to go, taking a quick shower, tucking the shoe under your bed, and collapsing in your room. 

You’re not sure how long you were asleep for before the door to your room slammed open. It startles you awake from your deep sleep. You look up and in a silhouette from the hallway light, is your stepmother. Your heart leaps to your throat, trying to take deep breaths in through your nose trying to calm down. 

“Stepmother,” you greet groggily. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“You insolent child.” She hisses. “I thought I made myself very clear. You were not to go to the ball. And what do you do, but steal the prince away for the whole evening?” 

“I do not know what you’re speaking about, stepmother.” 

She shoots a sharp glare at you. “You know exactly what I speak of… No matter. With the way you went running from the ball I’m sure the prince realized his mistake. Choosing you to dance and spend time with. With the way he let you go, I’m sure it’s that he realized you are not and will never be good enough for him. You? A low life orphan baker? Royalty? Never.” 

Her words sting like the venom they are. But you can’t help but realize she’s right. No matter what you do, you’ll always be an orphan that so happens to be good at baking. You would be an awful royal. 

Maybe that’s why he chose to help you escape rather than continue to chase after you. 

Maybe he realized it too. 

You will the tears to not fall as you stick your chin out a little further. “I do not know what you’re speaking about, stepmother. Now if you don’t mind I’d like to get some more sleep.” 

She is a touch surprised at your instance, certain that her words would break you. She gives you another glare, but grabs the doorknob and slams the door to your bedroom. 

You flop back on your bed and stare up at the ceiling for a long moment. You don’t realize you’re crying until the tears pool in your ear canal. You bring your hands up and wipe them away, rolling onto your side and clutching at one of your pillows. 

You had to end it… whatever it was. 

The clock on his wall warns him it’s 3 am, but Schlatt ignores it in favor of pacing back and forth in front of a table where the shoe was perched. Every so often he paused to look over the shoe before pacing again. 

“Why did you run?” He asks the shoe, staring at it as if it will give a response. “Where did you go… why did you throw this shoe at Charlie’s head?” A small smile breaks on his face as he pictures the scene Charlie described to him three hours ago. “I would have given anything to see it… to be there myself… to stop you myself.” 

He stands still for a moment longer before pacing again. 

“Maybe… maybe you found it all to be too much…” He speaks, slowing down his steps. “It all caught up to you… didn’t it. It all sank in. You realized truly who I was and you had to get out… You… you don’t want me.” 

He stops again, plopping down on the edge of his bed. “I suppose I can’t fault you… But I deeply wish you hadn’t run.” He flops backwards and stares up at the ceiling. 

It was going to end… whatever it was. 

Schlatt didn’t realize that he had fallen asleep until he wakes up. He spends a good amount of time staring up at the ceiling. Every knock on the door gets a “go away” as he lays in bed wallowing in his own self pity. The knocks stop for a couple hours. But then they’re back again. 

Schlatt startles out of his thought spiral and this knock on the door, this one louder than all the others. He groans at the sound, rolling over on his side and tugging a pillow over his head, blocking out most of the noise. “Go away,” He calls out, tucking himself into his bed further. 

The silence makes him believe whoever was outside listened to him. That is until the door opens and shuts behind him. He groans from the back of his throat, rolling himself over and sitting up. “I said, go away-- father-” He interrupts himself as his eyes meet his father’s green ones. 

Philza raises an eyebrow and the corners of his lips turn up slightly at his son’s behavior. “Good day to you too, Jonathan.” 

“Good day, dad.” Schlatt mumbles, sitting himself up properly. Schlatt moves his feet up slightly to make room for Philza as he moves and sits down on the end of Schlatt’s bed. 

Philza’s hand smooths over the blankets as he gives a glance around the room. His eyes catch on the shoe, still propped up on the table. “They gave you their shoe?” He asks, amusement lacing his tone. 

Schlatt huffs a laugh. “More like, threw it at Charlie’s head.” 

Philza doesn’t hold back and lets the laugh escape his lips. “Oh I knew I liked them. You picked well son. An excellent love match.” 

Schlatt sighs and turns to lay on his side, back facing his dad. “Apparently not. She ran away. I assume because she couldn’t handle me… who I really am. I don’t blame her after all the time I spent lying to her.” 

Phil furrows his brow and questions what Schlatt means by that. With nothing left to hide, Schlatt divulges the entire relationship. How they met and met again (which Phil was not happy about but decided now was not the time to bring it up) and how they sent letters to each other nearly everyday and how he knew they didn’t know his name but never told them his name or who he really is. How he had thrown the ball hoping they’d come and they did and how it has all been for them but it’s all been for nother. 

Phil nods along, listening carefully. He lets Schlatt take deep breaths after his rant. “I knew something was up.” Schlatt meets his eyes, curious but does not speak. “You’ve been so much happier in these past few weeks than I can remember… And you were so insistent on a love match. Deep down I knew… So my only question is why the hell are you moping around this room when you should be out there looking for them?”

“Didn’t you hear me, dad? They don’t want me. They ran away.” 

“Did they tell you they didn’t want you? Look you in the eyes and say ‘Prince Schlatt I do not want you?’”

“No but--”

“No buts, son. I haven’t seen you this happy in years. I know that you’re in love with them, whether you realize it or not. I know because you look at them the same way I look at your mother. And they wouldn’t have spent the whole night with you if they didn’t love you too. They wouldn’t have given you a clue telling you to come get them if they didn’t.” Philza motions to the shoe. “So again, I ask you. Why the hell are you moping around this room when you should be out there looking for them?”

The words resonate with Schlatt, filling him with hope, that maybe, just maybe you love him like he loves you… damn. Yeah. He loves you. 

“You’re right… I have to go dad, I have to…” Schlatt shoots up out of bed and digs through his closet and throws on a random outfit. “I have to get Ted and Charlie and a whole group and we have to go looking. Door to door. I have to find them. I am going to find them.” He runs a hand through his hair before whipping around to face his father with a grin. He rushes forward and presses a kiss on his father’s cheek. “Thanks, dad.” 

You sat staring at the blank piece of paper in front of you. What to say to the man that makes you feel everything. You twirl your pen in between your fingers a couple times. Letting out a sigh, you lean back for a moment, looking out the window. Your attention gets caught by the pigeon beside you who lets out a coo. You sigh again, reaching out and giving the bird scritches. “Hey there,” you murmur. The bird leans into your fingers, rubbing against you more. “Yeah… I know this letter won’t write itself.” The bird cocks its head and coos. “Yeah, just one more letter… a goodbye. I know you must be excited, you won’t have to carry my messages anymore.” Another coo. “Well, of course I’ll let you fly around outside. I’m not a monster.” It blinks at you. “Well I have to tell him something! I can’t just stop speaking to him. I need him to know… It’s quite literally not him. It’s me. I’ll never deserve him… no matter how much I care… for him.” The bird lets out a sharp and short coo. “Fucking hell. You’re right. I love him. Gods damn it I love him so much. Oh this is going to be a nightmare.” 

Schlatt sighs in frustration as he and his knights trudge to the castle. They’ve knocked on every single door in the kingdom and not a single one did you stand behind it. The sun was setting the knights stomachs were grumbling so Schlatt decided to call it a day and head back to the castle, determined to start again tomorrow. 

He picks at his dinner, tossing and turning it over with his fork, giving half hearted replies to questions that he’s really not paying attention to. He can’t help but replay every interaction he’s had with you over again, followed closely by several notable interactions he had throughout the day. One where the woman had caked her face in flour hoping to prove herself to be the baker. Another that when she answered the door said “I am not interested!” with a smug smile, as if she really did something, and then slammed the door in his face. As if he would be interested in her? He very clearly was looking for someone. 

His head is heavy with everyone he’s seen and spoken to today, he’s just ready to turn in for the night. 

And then he hears it. 

That beautiful coo he’s grown accustomed to listening for every day. The tell tale sign that you have sent him a letter. It’s Bob. Your carrier pigeon. 

And he has a letter attached to his leg. 

Schlatts posture instantly straightens and he holds out his finger, letting out a soft coo of his own. Everyone turned in confusion and watched Schlatt. Ted was about to speak before Bob landed on his fingers and stuck out his leg. Schlatt carefully took the rolled paper and fed the pigeon a couple nuts

Schlatt carefully unrolled the letter and began to read. 

My dearest, Prince Charming, 

I guess now that I know who you truly are it is only correct that I change the sir in your title to Prince. My prince… I had the most magical time last evening with you. Dancing around in your private garden is certainly something I will never forget and will always be grateful for. It was so incredibly sweet of you to give me your undivided attention. 

It unfortunately has come to my own attention that I am not good for you. I do not deserve you my sweet prince. I could never be someone that you deserve. I am a simple orphan that happens to be good at baking. No matter how hard I would try, you would always be way out of my league. 

I hope you find the love match that you seek. I hope you find someone good and kind, with a loving heart that will deserve you and be someone worthy of your love and care. Someone worthy of you throwing an entire ball for them. I don’t know how I ever thought I could be that person. I am so sorry…

I love you, Jonathon. 

But you deserve so much more than me. 

Yours, 

Your name is signed at the bottom of the letter as it always is. He reads the second to last line, once, twice, a thousand times, until he’s convinced himself that it’s real. That you really wrote that you love him. He didn’t care about the other stuff that you wrote. Well he kind of did. But he knew it was bullshit. If anything it’s him who doesn’t deserve you. 

If only he could find you to tell you this….

And then it hits him. 

He springs up from the table and rushes out, startling everyone in the dining room with him. The pigeon flaps its wings and lands on his shoulder, used to being carted around. Schlatt runs to his room where he grabs a pen and paper of his own. He scribbles “I love you,” before snatching the shoe off the table and rushing outside. Ted and Charlie rush out behind him, confused at the rush. 

“Schlatt, what are we doing?” They ask. 

Schlatt elects to ignore them as he hands Bob the messily rolled piece of paper. “Here, Bob. Show me the way to them.” Bob takes the paper, coos softly, and takes off. 

Schlatt instantly begins to race after the bird, Ted and Charlie following close behind. How relieved he was to finally find a way to find you. Bob would certainly lead him to you. He could only hope he could keep up with the bird. 

Schlatt was feeling winded by the time he reached the small house on the edge that borders the kingdom and the forest. He hadn’t thought to make his way all the way out here, thinking you lived closer to the village with the way you walked to the market. Obviously he had been wrong. 

Either way, he could only pray that Bob had led him to the right place. 

He couldn’t tell if the tightness in his chest and the shortness of breath was just from him running all this way or if it was his nerves. He decided to call it ‘a bit of column a and a little of column b’ and call it a night. 

The three approached the door, each taking deep breaths calming themselves from the journey taken to get here. Schlatt looks over his shoulder apprehensively at Ted and Charlie. He had knocked on over a hundred doors today, it didn’t make sense that this was the one he got nervous on. 

His best friends each gave him an easy smile and a kind and encouraging nod, eager for the prince to knock. Schlatt turned back to the door, letting out a breath, shaking his arms out, before reaching up and giving a sturdy knock. 

It’s silent on the other side of the door for a long moment. Schlatt’s heart pounds so hard in his chest he has to swallow hard to get it back down to his chest. The door know turns quickly and the door is pulled open and an older woman stands before him. He tries to not let his disappointment show, especially as surprise and utter delight paints her face. 

The woman drops to a quick curtsy. “Your highness,” she greets. Her voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard and it takes everything Schlatt has to not visibly recoil. “To what do we owe the pleasure?” 

A small bout of hope flutters down his spine causing Schlatt to stand straighter at the word “we.” “I am not sure if you have heard, but have been searching the entire kingdom for the one I danced with last night. Do you have any children, my lady?” 

The woman brightens up even more and squares her shoulders back. “As a matter of fact I do. I have two.” The woman turns and cups her mouth. “GIRLS,” She hollers, causing the boys to shutter at the loud call. 

Footsteps race across the wooden floor and two younger women appear. Schlatt feels a huge wave of disappointment was over his being as he looks at their faces and realizes they’re not you. He doesn’t hide his distaste as the girls push each other, trying to stand straighter and puff out their chest larger than the other.

“Neither of these young women are who I am looking forward… Does anyone else live here? A servant or a stable hand? Perhaps a cook?” Schlatt asks, taking a single step forward, looking around the room hoping for some kind of sign of you. 

The woman’s face sours at the question before her mask gets put back in it’s place. “No one else, your highness. Although I can assure you, my daughters are perfectly suitable--” 

“What’s that?” Schlatt interrupts as a noise sounds from one of the adjacent rooms. It sounded like metal being set down on a counter. “I thought you said no one else lived here.” 

The woman swallows harshly and moves to stand in front of the door. “That… that is just the cook your highness, they do not live here… or at least soon will not,” she mutters the latter part with venom before turning back to Schlatt, a perfect smile posing on her lips. “No one to concern yourself with, truly.” 

Any sense of trust for the woman is washed away when the scent hits his nose. He would be able to pick that scent out of a million different ones. It’s one of the best things he’s ever smelled. 

He would be able to recognize the scent of your double chocolate chip cookies. 

And he knows you’re in there. 

“By order of the king, I demand you step aside.” He barely recognizes his voice as it escapes his lips. It’s deep and authoritative… damn as each day passes he sounds more and more like his father… he’ll have to correct that. 

The woman opens his lips to protest. 

Deciding he wants to hear no more of his voice, he gently pushes the woman’s shoulder out of the way. His hand finds the door knob and he throws open the door without care. He breath is ripped from his lungs as he sees the person who stands in the kitchen… in front of those unmistakable chocolate chocolate chip cookies.

“It’s you.” 

The door slamming open scares the shit out of you. 

The entire day you had been lost in your own head. You finished the letter and gave it to your pigeon to take to Schlatt. As soon as it had left your sight, you made your way to the kitchen in a daze where you let yourself begin baking whatever your heart was feeling in the moment. 

It was only when you were beginning to clean up the batter dishes did you realize what you had made… and who you had made it for. You let yourself drift back into your head as you watched the cookies bake  through the oven window. You knew you would probably never see him again. Especially not after this letter. 

You took them out of the oven and let the pan clatter to the counter without much of a care. The soft cooing of your pigeon drew your attention away. You turned to greet it when you caught sight of the paper on it’s leg. Confusion fills you as you carefully take the paper. 

I love you.

It can’t be. 

The door bursts open, causing you to jump and whip around. Those damn fucking beautiful eyes. They always seem to follow you. To haunt you. Especially in your own house, those fucking chesnut brown eyes that say everything that you want to hear all without saying a word.

“It’s you.” 

Oh fuck he’s actually here. 

What the fuck? 

What is he doing here???

“What are you doing here?” 

His eyes don’t leave yours as he surges forward. One of his arms wraps around your waist, the other moving behind your neck, hand moving up to cradle the back of your head. “What are you doing here? Why did you run away?” 

You stare at him in disbelief, mouth opening and closing a few times. “Did you not get my letter? I’m no good for you, Jon--Prince Schlatt, I do not deserve you, your highness. You deserve someone much better than me. Surely you--” 

“Don’t you understand,” he whispers, cutting you off. “There is no one better.” 

“But your highness--” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“What?”

“You know what. Don’t call me that. That’s not my name. Not to you.” 

You let out a sigh and rub your flour coated hands on your apron. “Jonathon.” 

The smile that spreads across his face nearly makes you melt into a puddle. “There it is.” He murmurs, drawing his face closer to yours. “That’s my name.”

“Jonathon,” You repeat, trying to pull your blushing face away from his to no avail. You clear your throat and continue. “As per my letter, you deserve so much better than me. I am sure you can find someone-” 

“Did you mean it?”

You look at him partly confused, partly annoyed at him continuing to interrupt you. “Mean what?” 

“Did you mean it when you signed that you love me?” 

Your heart stops in your chest. You forgot you said that part. You don’t think you would have said it had you known it would have caused him to come bursting into your kitchen. You look at him in disbelief, is he not hearing your words? He surely read the letter. Why is he being so insistent on this? 

You could never lie to him though. 

You clear your throat and move your shoulders back. You meet his eyes head on. “Yes. I did. But-” 

“I love you too.” 

The world stops again. “What?” 

“As per my letter,” he says, a shit eating grin playing on his lips. The shock flowing through your body stops you from rolling your eyes. “I love you.” 

You remember the small piece of paper that was surely on the floor now that you took from the pigeon just moments ago. Obviously that’s who the paper was from. You swallow hard. “Sure you can’t-” 

“But surely I can. I think I’ve been in love with you ever since you called me a big petty man-baby who looked hotter now than I did before.” 

“I… I…’”

“I love you,” He utters, moving impossibly closer to your face. “I always have. You are all I want. You deserve so much better than me… But I’m hoping you’ll lower your standards and settle for me anyway.” 

His eyes shine so brightly. Those damn, fucking, beautiful eyes. They stare at you, hopeful, waiting with bated breath for your answer. They stare so intensely at you… You never want them to look away. 

It’s you that closes the distance and presses your lips to his. He instantly responds, tugging you closer to his chest and kissing you back. The kiss makes your body sing in delight. The spark starts at the base of your spine where his hand connects to your body and shoots out, encasing you completely. From the tippity top of your head to the bippity bottom of your toes. 

He consumes you. Completely. Totally. Entirely. 

You pull away breathless from the kiss, meeting his eyes. “I love you, Jonathon. I want to be yours. Please. I want to be yours, if you’ll have me?” 

Jonathon lets out a breathless laugh and shakes his head once. “Oh sweets, you’ve always been mine. I’ve always been yours. From the moment I met you. I’ve been hooked, sweets. You’re mine, and I’m never letting you go.” 

He leans forward again and presses his lips to yours. You eagerly respond, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. 

After you break apart again, Schlatt tells you to pack your things. You don’t have much here anyway so it doesn’t take you long. Your step family could only watch with crossed arms as you moved about, taking your things. You would miss the house you grew up in, but you were more than excited to begin your new journey. 

Schlatt made Ted and Charlie help carry your things. Ted cursed at Schlatt for not thinking to grab a carriage or at least a horse in the pursuit of you. That spun a whole argument between the two, leaving you to converse with Charlie. 

You gave the man a shy smile. “Sorry for throwing my shoe at you… I panicked about someone following me. 

Charlie gives a chuckle and a smile. “It’s no worries. I’m just glad you made it home safely.” 

“Yeah me too! The magic gave out and I was left carrying a huge ass pumpkin home… My back hurt like hell this morning.”

Charlie tilts his head and gives you a curious look. “Not what I meant… but I do want to hear more about this magic.”

“What did you mean then?”

Charlie doesn’t answer, his head simply moves to where Schlatt and Ted were now in a physical altercation, Schlatt attempting to put Ted in a chokehold. 

A fuzzy feeling floods your chest.

He is your home… isn’t he?

Small Epilogue 

The two of you marry quickly. The royal family welcome you with open arms. They help teach you the ways of the royals but never make you feel less than for being a commoner before the marriage. You never stop baking, you think Schlatt would throw a huge fit if you ever did. He constantly blamed you for his “twink death.” And although you’re not entire sure what that means, you’re sure that happened way before he met you. 

You two love each other openly and loudly. It brings smiles to everyone’s faces to see the prince this lovey dovey with someone. There will always be those that disapprove, but Schlatt is there to hold your hand and tell them to fuck off. 

He reminds you he loves you every single minute of every single day… you think maybe he lays it on a little thick in particular when he wants you to bake something in particular. You never mind though. It’s your baked goods that brought you together in the first place. 

Who are you to deny your love the thing that the two of you bonded over first? 

Especially when he loves you with every fiber of his being… 

…and maybe even more so when you make him chocolate chocolate chip cookies…

And they lived happily ever after.  The End

As per usual, I am shit at writing endings. Thank you for reading my 16.3k word self indulgent fic <3

Leave a like, comment, or reblog if you enjoyeddddd

okay byeeeeeeee back to my several year hiatusssss

im still on tumblr even if i don't post my writing so you can always message meeeeeeee <3

byeeeeeeeeee <3

[oolhan]

Too Many Beds

welp. I've managed to make some decent writing out of @waywardangel-wilds's blog about reversed tropes lol. This is unbeta-ed and all so here goes nothing!

Part 2 is here and 3 is already up here

Part 1:

It started innocently enough. Their friend group after college always had an annual trip somewhere far from their busy lives from their respective cities. Three years ago, they did the Bahamas with Delly's boyfriend Thom as their local tourist guide. Because of the good weather and the white sands, the island was packed with tourists. They almost fought the receptionist of a dingy motel just to secure four tiny spaces. One for the couple, another for Finnick and Gale, Johanna and Annie's, and the last door for both of them.

Katniss and Peeta, bestfriends since childhood. Witnessed each other's puberty and insecurities, pulling all nighters just to be handed with diplomas, presenting those diplomas in countless job hunts. Found themselves only a block away from their workplaces, Katniss a columnist for the city's paper, Peeta baking all day at the nearby posh pastry shop.

So, sharing the tiny bed for two nights in a vacation shouldn't be weird at all, right? They've seen it all. Almost.

So, they did. Ironically enough it didn't feel weird at all. It felt the opposite, actually. What is that opposite though?

After those two nights of fitful sleep, it became an unspoken agreement they share a room in the next trips. They shared an old rickety bedpost with just a mattress and no duvet covers in some hut in Thailand last two years ago. A mattress with no bedpost when they decided backpacking across Europe was fun and their hostel in Barcelona only had three rooms for the 8 of them. A big enough couch in Austria. Wrestled a tiny blanket in Portugal.

No one in their group questioned their sharing, only teasing glances from Johanna and Annie in that Bahamas trip.  Because it felt natural, it felt fitting.

The conditions were weird, but it was okay. She likes the excuse she gets just to feel his arms spoon her, even just for a night. It became Katniss' favorite thing to anticipate in these vacations. Yet, she's never admitting that to anyone because after they come home and separate again at the airport, some sort of spell dies and only reawakens on next year's trip. For some reason they never sleep together even when visiting the apartment of the other. Really though, it was innocent cuddling between two childhood friends.

Peeta on the other hand, barely keeps it together. Sure, the sharing was innocent, and he likes the feel of her limbs bumping and tying with his own, but God does he want to just cocoon her in his chest, smell the fragrance of her hair, play with the strands, fidget his fingers on the circles of her shoulders. But he knew it's weird to do, and it may only make her uncomfortable.

And so, in those few nights they lay together in the past three years, he musters up most of the restraint he can. Because it was painful enough to just be friends with her, painful enough to hide the fact that he was a goner ever since they were five and never took the chance to confess, painful enough to witness her grow into a beautiful woman and hang out with jerks like Cato in high school and Marvel in college.

He'll fall apart if he admitted his feelings and she break up their friendship. Not when he can get these borrowed moments instead. Not when they're almost 30. Innocent sleeping, right?

No. Not when she wore some skimpy sleep shorts because she complained it was too humid in the tropical island. Not when she can feel his morning wood against her backside on mornings when she's the first to wake. Not when a housekeeper complimented how good of a couple they look when she carried some extra towels in their room, teasing with innuendos on her way out that made both blush and frantic.

Fuck those shorts, he thinks as he tries to pry his eyes away and concentrate on getting the shading right. He was propped up on the bed post, sketching away as a habit before sleeping and he has a good view of her ass bent over the end of her bed, arranging clothes on her luggage.

"What?" She glanced his way. Shit. Did he say that out loud?

"What?" He tries to keep a normal tone, his shading shaky.

"What about these shorts?" She's standing now with her hands on her hip, challenging him. What's wrong with her sleepwear?

"I-" before he could answer though, her phone rings. Her sister was calling all the way from New York, finishing medicine at NYU. Katniss' tone is cheerful when she answered Prim, though her mind lingers in Peeta's soft aggressive whisper. She settled on the bed cross legged.

"Hey! just checking in on you. How's Paris?" Prim's walking while on a video call, and Peeta hears her stride. He abandons his sketchbook and jumps close to Katniss over her shoulder to greet Prim.

"Oh, it's bad, duck. She shits on pain au chocolat. Uncultured and rude. Can you believe that?"

"Shut up! I was only being honest, it's overrated,"

"Honesty is not shitting on food," Woah. He's way too close now. She flusters as she notices the lesser gap. He smells fresh from the shower.

She covers it up with an eyeroll. There.

"I think she just misses your buns, Peeta," They saw Prim wiggle her eyebrows comically in the phone. She rolls her eyes again. God, not Prim too. If Peeta even flushed from the teasing, he doesn't show.

"Where are you off to, anyway?" Katniss steers the conversation, subtly shying away from Peeta.

"I actually have a make-up class in Bio and I'm running late but I wanted to see you for a minute. Paris looks good on you," Prim's video was shaky now from her walk-run.

"Yeah yeah, I'll send you pictures tomorrow morning. Or tonight, or your morning. I don't know," Katniss chuckles.

Peeta loves her most in these moments with her sister. He's always entertained by their sisterly banter and unfiltered bickering. Things far from the physical jokes and pranks from his brothers, like random hard punches on the shoulder or being locked up in the bakery's store room.

"And you finally got your own beds this time! No more cramping in one bed," Prim says, which irritated and startled Katniss enough because ugh, she didn't want to get awkward with Peeta, especially when they already got some tension lingering. She couldn't roll her eyes enough to disperse the growing tension.

"Uh-yeah-finally, Cinna's a bit lavish,"

"Yeah, but that doesn't keep away her snores," Peeta added good naturedly, trying his best not to sound disappointed or whatever.

Because when Cinna decided earlier to welcome the group in his enormous apartment in Paris above his tailoring shop, he became a generous host. Provided them with enough toiletries, towels, full pantry of food, and of course, beds for each of them. Two twin beds per room, and so they divided by couple, leaving Peeta and Katniss staring at the most spacious room they've ever been on their trips.

What if they just move the bedframes together and make one giant fluffy king size mattress?

No, no. That's ridiculous. And stupid. That's like crossing some kind of boundary. So as much as they want to, they remain stubborn and got to unpacking. Besides, they'll only be here for the night. After that they can sleep again together like before in a small Venice hostel tomorrow, right?

"Well, two beds or not, you can always share-"

"Okay goodbye duck, I hope you trip on the sidewalk and fall flatfacewithyourmatchalattespillingalloveryouuu," Katniss taps the end button and tosses her phone on the bed.

"Come on dude, just admit you like sleeping with this," Peeta grabs her hand and press it on her chest, enjoying how she blushes with his and Prim's teasing abilities.

"fuck you, I'll kill you in your sleep," She scowls and pulls her hand away. He's roaring with laughter. She doesn't indulge the fact she likes feeling his broad skin under her palm.

"No seriously, we're used to sleeping side by side. Let's just move the frames... or you can sleep in mine,"

Fuck. Why is he so blunt about this?

"Or I could just sleep with you on this. Ah, so soft," he lays down with his arms cradling his head. He knows she'll be convinced if he tries to play it casually.

Very, very tempting. But Katniss is stubborn, and instead grabs the pillow beneath his head and smack him with it. "Hey!"

"Fuck off my bed Mellark. Go to your own," she directs with little conviction. A little more, just convince me a little more.

He sits up and feigns disappointment, even though he is really disappointed. "I'm serious, let's just sleep together..." He stares her up with those piercing blue eyes.

Tension grows by millimeter with their stare and hitching breaths.

Is he really serious? Is this okay? Why is he so casual about this?

"Just get off my bed, Peeta. It's the first in weeks I can sleep with my head on a real pillow,"

So she's not convinced with casual talk.

A beat.

“Okay fine, just don’t set your alarm so loud,” He stands and reaches for his abandoned sketchbook. She already misses the weight of him on her bed.

“Fine then. Don’t stay up late with the lights on. Opening the window is enough,” she settles on her pillows.

“Fine,”

Blankets rustles on both ends, lamps turn off.

“Goodnight, Peeta…”

“Sweet dreams, Katniss.”

They pretend to not notice the other still not asleep. It was a restless night.

[halcome]

Oh gods I didn't even realize it was Saturday, new Wild Life ep let's go!!! Wooo!!!

(reacting as I watch below)

Gonna do my heart a favor and just edit this post as I watch, seems to be a calm session but with the speed mechanics its only a matter of time before I see someone run off a cliff. Still recovering from the snails, small morsels of content are a must.

Grian's Wild Life Ep. 4

Grian and Mumbo doing their best to help Skizz murder is a delight as always, but I feel like their plans always seem to benefit them in the end and not Skizz.

Already terrified of the minecart cannon Grian made and I dont think theyre fast enough yet to launch it far.

Made some breakfast, some scrambled eggs with peppers and a side of, OMG SCAR

I probs should've guessed he'd immediately put a tnt minecart down to test it but everyone was so close by, gave me a lil scare. Also does Mumbo not have self preservation instincts? Cause everyone backed up but he kept staring at it, barely inching away. Guessing his redstone and curiosity instincts were stronger than his need to stay yellow.

Grian: Mumbo, is the moon fast?

Omg he said the line!

If I remember correctly speed + tnt minecart = more power, Grian holding up a shield was a good effort but dear lord that was quite the death.

Genuinely, what on earth just happened?

Mumbo died the most Looney Toon death I've ever seen, running for water and turned to ash. Scar was an absolute menace too, shooting Grian off that ledge was a very Hot Guy move. I wonder if he'll make it to the very end? I know Grian's targeting Scar now but something tells me he's gonna survive by sheer dumb luck.

SmallishBeans' Wild Life Ep. 4

Cool guys don't look at explosions! Something, something, TNT takes 4 seconds to explode. Timings are demolished.

8:00 Joel on his ballerina arc.

Took a break to finish homework, came back to Jimmy trying to take a chunk out of Joel's "somewhere" ??? Usual shenanigans it seems.

Seen Skizz frolicking in the sunflowers twice now from 2 different viewpoints, he's really enjoying his time on a death game server, proud of em.

Absolutely loving how proud everyone is of Mumbo getting a kill, always nice to see the little reminders that even though this is a death game of bloodshed and betrayal they're still friends in the end. Though I have seen clips of Bdubs holding grudges, so while everyone is friend shaped, they are not forgive and forget shaped.

Joel giving so many diamonds to Lizzie is incredible. Man's forever smitten with his missus. Lizzie the absolute queen!

Absolute chaos at the end with how Joel edited it. I know it was technical difficulties but it just fits so well with how chaotic it was.

Mumbo Jumbo's Wild Life Ep. 4

I know Mumbo placed the creeper from Grian's POV but goodness he's a little rascal given the chance.

Omg that Scott kill though was smooth as heck. He waited so long and it paid off big time. Little block break and plop, there goes the Scott! Absolutely loved how simple it went, the silence from Scott as his brain caught up to him was amazing too. I gotta watch his POV next for sure!

Is it just me or is Mumbo really going after Scott? Tasted blood and immediately became addicted to the one source. If Mumbo ends up being the reason Scott's out of the series ima laugh. The amount of paranoia Scott would have by the end of it would be immense.

And he gave up... Welp, can't wait to see him try and kill Gem next session!

[alipeeps]

Episode 24

Welp, he did what they suggested. He went to see for himself.

I've said it before but it bears repeating - this kid is SUCH a good actor!

Jesus fucking christ, Wen Zongyu is the worst.

He took a grieving child and:

manipulated him into spying against his friends and poisoning one of them:

intended from the start to use his body as a vessel for a demon;

fucking poisoned him so that he would be able to control said demon once it was in his body!!

Oooh but your little demon trapping cage didn't work on our boy Li Lun?

So... could it actually end up now that Li Lun and the gang will band together against Wen Zongyu? The enemy of my enemy and all that?

Can't Zhao Yuanzhou use his healing ability on him?

Oh SHIT, the sword being broken affects/damages the person connected to it?

So they NEED that second sword!! Anybody else remember that it was explicitly mentioned that TWO cloud light swords were forged? Anyone?!!

And that confirms that the reason the sword cracked this time is because of the malicious qi - every other time Zhu Yan has been stabbed with the sword, he has been in control of his qi.

However... doesn't that mean that the plan/back up plan to kill Zhu Yan if he is out of control is doomed to failure, because the uncontrolled qi will crack the sword?

OUCH

Ying Lei is so fucking under-rated... they play him for comedy so much of the time but he has genuinely been the one coming up with a lot of the solutions for things. He found how to purify the Yao Water. He worked out that Bai Jiu's blood could revive the Divine Wood. And he's thought to ask the other mountain gods about ways to save both Zhuo Yichen and Bai Jiu. He is best boy!!

Uhhhh... yeah... sliiiight problem there...

Okay so we have a way to keep him going a bit longer... while you find the second sword, right? Right?!

Good on you Pei Sijing.

He is the best!!

Oh damn, he survived.

And Wen Zongyu has the gall to act pleased about it - as if he wasn't callously offering his position to Pei Sijing a matter of days ago.

"Thank you for your treatment"

"Better than I was before"

Did... did Wen Zongyu use his fucking experimental treatments on him? Is he a hybrid now?

"According to the spy" What spy? Just a generic spy keeping an eye on things... or is there another traitor in their midst?

Oh dang, that's fucked up your plans eh? Bummer. Sucks to be you.

Oh wow, that is freaky. It's Bai Jiu... but he's dressed and hair-styled Li Lun-style.

Ohhh that doesn't sound good...

Oh dang, his brother didn't have the right Bingyi blood to awaken the sword?!

But... but didn't we see it glowing in his (dead) hand when Zhu Yan wiped out the Demon Hunting Bureau? Or was that just the sword reacting to Zhu Yan's presence?

Ahhhh was it Zhu Yan they were going after? Probably... how many Great Demons are there after all?

Yup, it was, and the sword glowed in response to Zhu Yan's presence.

No wonder Zhuo Yichen didn't know how to use the cloud light sword properly... I'd thought it was because his dad and brother had died before they had chance to teach him... but they never could have taught him because they didn't have the power to awaken it and use it to its full potential...

Oh SHIT and he finds out about his brother's death by someone bringing him the damn sword?!! Wrapped in a blood-stained cloth. Like... harsh, dude?!!

And he dedicated his life to becoming strong enough to awaken the sword, to honor his brother...

I'm not crying, you're crying!!

His tears awakened it?

Goddamn the music in this show is just perfect...

Oh shit.

OH SHIT!

Wtf's going on with the fish pond?

Wtf is this, that's been hiding in the fish pond all this time?!

Of course it is. And of course it's been at the bottom of the fish pond for fucking generations. Where else would you keep it?!

Oh it can repair everything can it?

WHY do they just fucking stand there and let it happen?!!

Oh Zhu Yan did react! Hallelujah!

He sure did.

Did what? You are in this situation because of your own actions! It was literally YOUR plan to break the baize token, get unsealed, and then take over Bai Jiu's body because you knew your own body would burn up!

Okay wtf why did the stone suddenly break?

Can this show please stop giving us a teensy glimpse of hope and then ripping it away from us again?!!

Honestly the stone's a bit shit if all it takes to crumble it is the merest touch of demonic energy?

And what the fuck is this now? There was blood at the centre of the stone? Is it the famous Bingyi blood?

And it's gone zooming into Zhuo Yichen? Whose eyes have gone blue like in the flashbacks to his ancestor?

Oh damn... did I hear that right? The demon Ying Long agreed to die at Bingyi's hand... for the greater good?

OH WHAT?!!!

Ying Lei be like:

Ahhh my poor precious baby mountain god! He's too too good!

Way to be a downer, Zhu Yan.

So it wasn't Bingyi blood? It was demon blood? Unless...?

Because Ying Long sacrificed himself to save the world. Sound familiar, anyone?

Ho hoooooo! Yes indeedy, Zhuo Yichen's ancestor was also a demon... and the famous Bingyi blood is - demon blood! (So I guess maybe it was Bingyi blood inside the stone after all?)

And members of Zhuo Yichen's family were only strong enough to activate the cloud light sword if they had enough demon Bingyi bloodline in them, I guess? And Zhuo Yichen does... which is probably also why he kept dreaming about turning into a demon, I am guessing?

Ohhhhh and we finally get an explanation of how come Zhuo Yichen let Ao Yin get away if he wasn't being controlled by Li Lun!!

He wasn't controlled... he was shocked (mind you, why on earth he would believe a demon's word on that, enough to be shocked to a standstill by it and let them escape?)

So the Great Demon Bingyi was turned human...

And he lived in seclusion... and his descendants...

SO... he wasn't all THAT secluded then eh? 😂

It allows them to choose? So he gets to choose if he remains human or becomes demon? But what do you want to bet he will end up in a situation where becoming demon is the only option to save everyone, so he'll do it?

Oh mind you, no, doesn't sound like there is any choice...

Oh holy shit, is there ANY good news for us, Zhu Yan?!!

So now Zhuo Yichen is condemned to death on 2 fronts - the broken sword AND the Bingyi demon blood.

How the fuck are Chongwu spies able to so easily sneak right into the core of Demon Hunting Bureau to eavesdrop? Do you people have ANY fucking security at all?

You said it girl!

Well DUH, of course he's bloody disappeared while you idiots were chitchatting!!

Oh dang...

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah 😭😭

Aww bless her, she has understood the meaning behind his words...

Oh shit!

AAaaaahhhh! You end it THERE?!!

[localaceken]

Ninjago DR S2 Part 2 thoughts, spoilers ahead.

First few episodes were...rough.

- Rody was kinda annoying at first, but I grew to like him as the episodes went on. I'm glad Wildfire found someone to match her Freak. I like that he is geniunely into her too.

- I can't believe Bolobo fucking died lmao rip in piss.

Nero, Chamille and Shade cameos were nice. I like that Tox and Mr.Pale actually had dialouge AND WE FINALLY SAW WHAT MR.P LOOKS LIKE YES.

Ily Geo <3 The Goblinnnnnnnn

Zeatrix was annoying lmao I get why Beatrix hated her ass

Otherwise liked all the new elemental powers and masters introduced. [I can hear Legacyverse screaming already. Rip.]

[Elemental Master of Balance is a thing...welp. There goes the 'Riyu will become the Source Dragon of Balance' theory I suppose]

- I really hoped they would do more with Jay, not only because he's my fave but he could have been more. I think revealing his identity and making him lose his first round immediately was a mistake. Also the teams reactions to him??? Being there??? HELLO?!?! HES BEEN LOST FOR YEARS!?!?! AND YALL ARE LIKE "oh hey Jay is here."!?!? YALL ARE SUPPOSED TO BE FAMILY?!?!?!?@?@?@ BROTHERS?!?!?!?!

Istfg only Nya actually gives a shit about Jay at this point.

Sigh...at least his voice is deeper now...it was kinda getting annoying how high pitched it became over the years...

Being a Jay fan is suffering.

[Anyways, go read Lightning Pin by @taddymason for peak DR Jay content.]

- I like that Ras had no idea what was going on with Nokt and I like that The Forbidden Five, mostly Nokt, and Ras ancestors had something going on [the something was hating eachother, probably]

Kinda not buying Ras' whole 'unmerging the realms' thing though.

Also what the fuck is up with Cinder and immediately betraying Ras lmao bootlicker behavior.

I'm glad Jordana made it out and Sora realized. Well. Everything. I hope we get to see her again so she can get a proper redemption arc.

- I'm loving Arin's arc so far. He's not evil. He's morally grey at this point. I would be too if I was in his shoes. He just wants to find his parents, but he always had to put ninja business up first, but decided that enough is enough and he will find his parents, without the ninja.

I wouldn't be surprised if he and Ras try to manipulate eachother next season. It would be fun to watch. [Bonus points if Ras backstory and redemption. Pls. I want tiger dad]

Welp. This is it for now I guess, feel free to ask about my opinions on specific stuff.

7/10 Good season. Could have done much more on certain places but still a good and entertaining watch.

[keiirauuu]

The demise of Au Inflorence

Inflorence, was created 25 September 2023. Originally it was called Deflowered(Hanafell), the name was changed due to what it meant.

The right most was the first concept art for it, the middle one was when it remade, then leftmost was the current.

Inflorence was inspired by aus like underfell, flowerfell, underswap. I really liked swap aus, due to Chara being my favorite character. I wanted a world where gets to have a life.

Inflorence was a Chasriel au, I liked what I like. I really loved both Chara and Asriel in original their tragedy was something alot amazing. Asriels obsession with chara. Charas martyr behavior. But these ship posed the downfall of my au.

Inforence, specifically deflowered was supposed to be a undefell au take, following the canon one, where Chara teaches asriel, all mosnters sometimes love and kindness is enough. But Asgore poisons chara, with flower curse. Where all of charas body would be covered with golden flowers till they die. Later asriel would absorb charas soul to cross barreir but they return. Chara dies Asriel surives and banishes his dad to ruins. While, he declaires war on humanity. Charas reincarnation Frisk, comes to knock senses in their king boyfriend. Both survive........ But welp that was all scrapped as another au was taking my brain

These nameless swap au. Mostly I really likes these au, which resulted in mashing these up with deflowered which created Inflorence. The designs in these are canon for inforenece except for asriel, Chara. yes deltarune was also here alot specifically.

As you might have guessed Frisk took Asriels place here, while Noelle took Charas. Noelle was supposed to be the narrator of these au, Frisk the first human was at first gonna be temmie, but later became a voice which you can only hear through echo flowers and mirrors.

As you also guessed Frisk and charas dead lead to events here, many people may have noticed Flowers on Chara and frisk.

Well These flowers are like flowerfell they grow on humans body killing them. But the reason is different, Humans souls here were quite fragile while monsters had stronger souls. Monsters ability to love was overwheming to humans soul as they cant handle monsters compasion resulting in the determination and love given by monsters to humans to pour out. In the flowers, these flowers were the result of humans loving monsters, romantic, platonic, family all type. All humans here died due to loving too much.

They loved too much, the more you love the more flowers you get till killing you. Despite that these humans never tried to harm others and died sacrificing their souls to free monsters.

There were some desgin changes I tried but then they were scrapped I prefered the old stripped sweaters better.

As its canon chara is a teenage here, while frisk was a child.

The end of the au

Sadly these au, will be abounded. why?

The fandom is too toxic, I had gotten repeated backlashes, death threats, art stolen, and hate commets.

for the following reasons:

Chara:

Greatly the reason lies because of the view of chara, their morality is ambiguous. There are versions debates, that their evil, pure good, traumitzed child, are narrator, your partner.

My portrayal of Chara was on the good side, because of that many commets came like, "Chara cant love", "Chara is evil", "Chara cant be that kind", "Is frisk evil?", "Noelle is manipulative then", "Chara was abusive to Asriel" etc.

I know I know, There are many versions and all. But I really created these au for personal reasons Chara is meant to be Hope, the savior who gave up their soul here to just to free monsters, they loved too much hence the flowers they loved became the reason for their own death in Asriels arms.

I do know Chara in canon undertale, may have different reason but these is AU ALTERNATE UNIVERSE.

Chasriel

Here we are the final reason, Chasriel, the most hated ship, claimed incest. Got in in canon they might have been siblings. so what? Asriel and Chara always refer to each other as best friend, they are two different race, Asriel is literally obsessed with chara, the only one who can understand him, the only one who he cares about the most, the only one who he idolizes unhealthily, which he only realizes at the end of pacifist.

But these things do point towards at least a childish crush, or idolization.

But I respect people who don't ship them, not everything thinks the same, there are some who are with sibling side, I'm totally alright with it, if you don't like my ship that's FINE just don't fucking for the sake send me death threats, long messages explaining why they aren't siblings, I drew incest and all. I myself don't like incest, but if I don't even see it as incest cause its left ambiguous, and in the au their not even met till chara the eight human falls underground.

Asriel was here a cold, introverted Ice prince as he lost his two siblings Frisk, and noelle. He knows the effect of love how if he loves a human they will just die. But Chara broke through his walls, and taught him to love again. But despite that he lost chara to the flowers.

That was his whole character arc.

He had a happy childhood with frisk, noelle till they both died, and he grew up alone partially till ralsei was born. He had first hand saw humans after frisk who all died. He knows loving humans will just hurt him, yet he ended up falling for chara anyway. Chara had alot love to give which killed them. They wanted to be the kindess which they never received.

Yet, the people here ended up demotivating me. These au was left uncontinued.

No I wont be continuing it.

What happends to the characters?

The Characters have become my personal oc, their designs are pretty different to begin with

Chara, now is 'Anzu'. Frisk is 'Fuu'.

Further characters, which have been turned to personal characters are

Asriel -> Arin (rei)

Ralsei -> Razzy

Sans who takes alphys place -> Benny (Ben)

Papyrus who takes monster kids place -> Ivan

Asgore taking toriels place -> Alfen

Toriel taking Asgores place -> Roferria

Alphys taking papyrus place -> Daphan

Undyne taking Sans place -> Ulys

Mettaton taking napstablook place -> Magus

Napstablook taking mettatosn place -> Cyrus

Noelle taking Charas place -> Evelle

Further more the fallen humans,

Kris (justice soul) -> Chris

Clover (kindess soul) -> Meadow

rest humans name will remain same as they already were oc (cole, jasmin, alice, kelsey)

While these were turned to personal characters as I dont want them to be associated with undertale anymore.. So I hope you respect that.

THESE is ment to be archive post, and a bit rant post. All the art belongs to me do not repost

[eee-isat-au-blog]

Encore Et Encore: Act 1, Chapter 1: Terminal Velocity

Full Game Spoilers for In Stars And Time, including Twohats!

CW: Mentions of death, Vauge references to suicide, Vauge references to allergy related death, Mental spiralling, Brief panic attacks

Siffrin walked. In what direction, he couldn't tell. All around him was lightless, he could've been walking inside out for all he knew. 

Oddly, the lightlessness of the void around him didn't seem to translate to himself. He looked down and was able to see himself as if he were in…

He struggled to find the right mental analogy. A sunny field? That worked well enough. Regardless, the point was he was brightly lit in shades of darkless.

Wait, why was he thinking about the color of his robe or whatever?? Where was he right now? He racked his brain, trying to think of the last thing he remembered.

Right. He died. Come to think of it, he knew this place was familiar. Back when he was in the loops, he always hovered here for a moment before looping back. But this.. this death was different. What was it? He was with his family, he remembered that much.

...Oh.

Old age, huh...? He was surprised he'd died before Odile… looking back on it, the loops definitely played a part in that… Welp. Not a bad way to go out, surrounded by your family, after living a long happy life.

What to do now, though? Was he just meant to wander this void forever? Stars, this wasn't going to be fun.

✦: "You could say that again, stardust~"

...Huh?

Was that..??

✦: "The one and only~"

The voice snickered, as if what they said was a joke.

Siffrin whipped their head around, and who else do they see standing in the void but Loop, holding open their arms in a welcoming gesture. Loop was here?? He guessed that made sense, they were both Siffrin after all. Seems eternity in the void wouldn't be so ba-

He cut himself off. To his surprise, he had jumped into Loop's arms to give a hug, that they returned. Something was wet on his cheek, that checks out, he was crying, after all.

✧: "Oh, Loop, you don't even know how much I've missed you!"

✦: "Heh, you're giving me a pretty good idea of it at least, stardust~!"

He pulled back and wiped his eye, still sniffling.

✧: "Where are we...? Is this where you went after you disappeared?? Oh stars, I'm so sorry-"

✦: "Ah-ah-ah, none of that now~! I believe there's someone else who wants to talk with you."

☄: "SO GLAD YOU COULD JOIN US, SIFFRIN."

A voice spoke loudly in Siffrin's head, as if his own brain was a speaker. From the look on Loop's face, seems they heard It too.

They both turned to where Loop was standing in front of. There was a figure Siffrin hadn’t noticed before. …or maybe It didn’t want to be noticed before. 

The figure was… large. Or maybe they were very close up? Siffrin couldn't tell. They wore a long cloak, not unlike his own, but instead of the simple darkless of his, the figure’s cloak was like that of a galaxy, constantly swirling and moving around their lower body, with stars and lights occasionally twinkling among the…. colors. 

The colors? Right, he remembered seeing one of those “colors” when he turned on his friends all those years ago. But these… these were different. Unlike the near death experience met with confusion like last time, this time he immediately understood them. The blues, the greens, the yellows, all of it woven within the tapestry. Woven within the figure Itself. 

Looking up to where the figure’s head would be, what sat atop the shoulders was… an abyss. An abyss with a singular eye dead set in the center. A lightless orb with pure light swirling around to resemble a long hat, and shaggy hair. It looked familiar.

It looked like him.

Something about that made Siffrin finally realize that he looked the exact same as he did back during the loops. Not old anymore, looking as young and dumb as he did when that rock first crushed him. 

He started to panic. Was he gonna go back again?? He couldn’t, HE COULDN’T!!

He felt two hands on his shoulders. Looking up, he saw that one belonged to Loop.

✦: “Stardust, look at me, it's ok..! You aren't going back…” The look in their eyes seemed to tell otherwise.

The other hand belonged to the figure. One of Its hands held his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. It helped a bit.

☄: “MY APOLOGIES FOR THE CONFUSION.”

It spoke in Its booming voice, unaffected by any laws of physics. Siffrin had a feeling It’d sound the same no matter where he was in this void. The figure put all 3 of Its hands to Its chest, they floated aloft, not attached to any limbs, and none of them seemed to be right-handed or left-handed, somewhere in between.

☄: “ALLOW ME TO INTRODUCE MYSELF. IN A WAY YOU CAN UNDERSTAND.”

One hand gestured to Siffrin.

☄: “YOU ARE THE TRAVELER.”

One hand gestured to Loop.

☄: “THEY ARE THE STAR.”

The final gestured to Itself.

☄: “I AM THE UNIVERSE.”

Siffrin stepped back hearing that, and Loop did the same to match. This being... that looked like him... was the universe?? Loop didn't seem nearly as surprised.

☄: “PLEASE, STEP FORWARD. I WISH TO DISCUSS WITH YOU.”

Both Loop and Siffrin stepped forward again. Loop didn’t look happy.

The Universe 

spoke.

☄: “THE LOOPS. A TRAGIC CONSISTENCY, NO? OUR OWN INSECURITIES HAVE DAMNED US TO ADVENTURE.”

Siffrin looked up at the figure, confused. It paused, then held Its hands up.

☄: “I SEE. LET ME SHOW YOU.”

All three hands snapped their fingers, and Siffrin saw as the void around them showed… versions of himself. Some with slightly different clothes, some with slightly different party members, some with their own versions of Loop, some without, all trapped within their own loops.

Crushing. Crying. Slipping. Slicing. Choking. Freezing. Losing.

Dying.

Siffrin’s face turned to one of horror. A face The Universe seemed to have memorized all too well. 

☄: “I WAS THE FIRST, YOU KNOW. THE FIRST TO GO THROUGH ALL OF THIS. MY MISTAKES CAUSED A RIPPLE EFFECT UPON THOUSANDS, MILLIONS, BILLIONS OF SIFFRINS. IT IS A CURSE TO BEAR. BUT IT IS MY RESPONSIBILITY TO ASSIST EACH AND EVERY ONE OF THEM.”

What...? The Universe Itself was one of you too...? Then why...

✧: "Why even put us through the loops?? Why torment us like this???"

☄: “...THINK OF IT LIKE SO.”

☄: “IT IS THE NATURE OF THE GAME.”

☄: “WIN ONCE, AND TIME SHALL FLOW AGAIN.”

☄: “YOU WILL NOT START YOUR QUEST ANEW.”

☄: “YOUR BODY FREE FROM SCARS.”

☄: “YOUR MIND HEAVY WITH THEM.”

☄: “THE ONLY WISE ONE IN A WORLD FULL OF FOOLS.”

☄: “MANY HAVE MISUNDERSTOOD THIS MESSAGE. TO MEAN THEY MUST BEAT THE KING. I CANNOT BLAME THEM FOR THE CONFUSION. BUT AS YOU KNOW, THE KING WAS NEVER A FACTOR.”

☄: “WHEN PLAYING A GAME, THE GOAL IS TO WIN. BUT IT IS THE GOAL THAT IS IMPORTANT, NOT THE WINNING. TO WIN IS TO OPEN ONESELF TO YOUR FAMILY.”

☄: “THE UNFORTUNATE PART IS OUR EQUAL STUBBORNNESS.”

Siffrin looked around, wide-eyed at all the other versions of themself, eventually meeting eyes with Loop, who looked away uncomfortably.

✧: “...Aren’t there any that have escaped besides me and Loop?”

The Universe snapped their fingers again, cutting the ethereal ‘footage’ to be replaced with an equal amount of different siffrins, living different lives, but all are happy with their family. The ones that got away.

☄: “THERE AN EQUAL AMOUNT OF SIFFRINS THAT HAVE ESCAPED THEMSELVES AS THERE ARE ONES CHASING THEMSELVES. THOSE ESCAPED, THOSE TRAPPED, ALL TRAILING OFF TO INFINITY. SOME OF THE FREE ONES ARE WITH THEIR LOVED ONES, SOME ARE DEAD, AND HAVE HAD THIS CONVERSATION WITH ME BEFORE.”

Loop felt Siffrin’s heart sink in their collective chest as he spoke.

✧: “B-but why tell us all of this?? Why make it feel like we can’t escape??”

The Universe

was silent

for a moment.

☄: “YOU MISUNDERSTAND. THIS IS NOT MEANT TO DISCOURAGE YOU. THIS IS MEANT TO TELL YOU WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW. BEFORE YOU MAKE YOUR CHOICE.”

✧: “My choice…?” Siffrin spoke in confusion.

✦: “His choice…??” Loop parroted the statement.

☄: “NO, THIS IS A CHOICE FOR THE BOTH OF YOU TO MAKE, INDIVIDUALLY. YOU CAN PART WAYS HERE, OR YOU CAN CHOSE TOGETHER.”

The Universe held out two objects in two hands, with Its third at Its chest.

One object was an orb shaped star, sparkling in Its grip.

The other was a crystal ball, displaying…

The Island. It was populated by various different Siffrins and Loops all wandering and waving at each other like a community. The land was rich and colorful, oh Stars above, it was all coming back to him now. 

☄: “I SHALL STATE THIS PLAINLY.”

☄: “YOU CAN CHOOSE TO START AGAIN, ASSISTING ANOTHER SIFFRIN IN THEIR JOURNEY BEFORE MEETING ME HERE AGAIN TO CHOOSE ONCE MORE.”

☄: “OR YOU CAN CHOOSE TO QUIT THE CYCLE, LEAVING YOUR LIFE BEHIND AND JOINING THE FREED IN THEIR PARADISE.”

Siffrin felt a tug on his throat, he resisted the urge to start bawling. 

Loop took a moment before kneeling down to get on eye level.

✦: "Stardust. It's gonna be ok. Breathe with me." They both breathed in, and out.

✦: "I'll be with you no matter what, ok?" Despite the lack of a mouth, Siffrin could tell Loop was smiling reassuringly.

After a moment, Siffrin pulled back, looking up at The Universe.

And reached out his hand.

[hestzhyen]

Chapter 56 Karasu Posting

Hooooooly moly dear void. I will de-feral this as much as possible before posting, but full disclosure: I am not hiding my Hakuri bias at all this time. Thank you once again for tolerating my bullshit.

Now that I have access to the JP version, I can try to TL the editor's notes that are left out of the EN version! They're not super important or anything, but it's still an unnecessary corner to cut IMO. Other languages like Spanish keep them in...

(Please consider this and all other TLs practice for myself and not an actual competent interpretation, kind void.)

First page: 代償と覚悟- [taishou to kakugo-, "Cost and resolve..."]; I think a better, less literal translation would be along the lines of "The cost of one's resolve...", but again, not in any way competent at this. Last page: 妖刀振るう者の実力戦況が動く-!! [youtou furuu mono no jitsuryoku senkyou ga ugoku-!!, "The tide of battle shifts as the Bearer shows his true abilities through his enchanted blade...!!"]; 戦況 (senkyou) literally means "progress of a battle" or "war situation" but I think it's equivalent enough to the phrase "tide of battle" to translate it as such. It sounds a lot less stiff that way anyway... and yeah, 妖刀 (youtou, bewitched/magical/demon sword) is what the enchanted blades are called in Japanese, just like 振るう者 (furuu mono, wielder) are the Bearers. This one's honestly a toughie for me since it's hard to keep all the connotations without the sentence getting clunky or too far off from the original. Welp, that's why I'm just a total amateur still!

Also, putting this here in case it's left untranslated in the EN version: In regards to Samura's command when he draws Tobimune, karasu (鴉) means "crow" or "raven"- hence all the feathers. What an awesome reuse of the theme from Roku no Meiyaku!

Someone save this one-shot from MTL hell pretty please

Crows can represent good omens in Japan- they're associated with gratitude, guidance, and good luck in addition to the usual things like cleverness and trickery. Pretty fitting for Samura, I'd say! Especially with the backstory we got about him and the Makizumi this chapter.

On Respect for Life

I love Hokazono-sensei's chibi style. Look at Samura scolding his guards like Shiba scolded Hakuri and Chihiro!

This manga seriously never misses on the found family wholesomeness. I know we're getting this backstory to make the potential upcoming deaths hurt so much more- the only question I'm asking right now is how many of them will live through whatever the Hishaku's trump card is. I just love seeing characters care deeply for each other beyond the sake of duty, y'know? No mater how they meet, they connect and come to value each other's lives as much as or more than their own. That's peak shounen!

Samura's so passionate about saving the lives that others are willing to give up for his sake that he can't bear to leave them behind even when it's for the best. It takes Uruha's intervention to get him the hell out of there but he immediately wants to charge back in. He wants to save no matter how much it conflicts with his personal beliefs or how much it will cost him personally- no matter how much it will cost the whole nation if he dies (sounds like someone else we know).

What about Uruha, though? He's not quite like his (former) master- he's been tempered differently and I can't wait to find out why. He seems to be very accepting of letting other people die for his sake again.

Uruha has the same abundant respect for life and the desire to protect that Samura does but it manifests completely differently. He still recklessly jumps in to save the day, but he's far more prudent about strategy despite being younger. To Uruha, valuing the lives of the guards means acknowledging the importance they place on his own. He respects their devotion by staying alive to ensure their sacrifices aren't in vain. It's about honoring the choice they made, even if it hurts him to do so. (And possibly another thing, but that'll be near the end since it's kind of a reach on my part.)

Master and disciple of the same style with completely different outlooks on how to emphasize the importance of life. Which one will be given credence by the story here, though? Depends on a technically unrelated third party.

Hakuri, the Makizumi, and Samura

Hmmmmmmmmm who does this sound like.

If there were any doubts about what this part of the arc is for, let them be forever cast aside: this is for Hakuri's growth. The Makizumi, Uruha, and even Samura are here to focus on key aspects of Hakuri's character, namely his two biggest flaws: "freakishly devoted" and "not valuing himself enough or in the right way".

The obsessive devotion of the Sazanami clan was cast in a negative light- seeing themselves as tools, tradition over humanity, Soya's entire character. Now we have the Makizumi, a clan who also see themselves as tools to live for a master's sake. They're being shown in a positive way though: they're lovingly devoted to Samura's well-being, and the sacrifice they plan to make is noble instead of terribly pointless. But it's not because of their mindset- that's way too close to the Sazanami's for comfort. It's because they were humanized by being with Samura.

He rejected their protection and utility despite the air-tight logic of their argument. He absolutely refuses to let them die for his sake even though they essentially exist to do so. He's not a guy who trivializes life even if he's given full license to do so because it goes against his sincerely held beliefs. Instead, Samura sees them as people to care for and protect in return- that's how he values life (who else does that sound like?).

Now look at Hakuri.

Like the Makizumi, he lives to be useful. Working with Chihiro means making the world a better place so there will never be another Ice Lady. His life has no value other than how useful he is and what Chihiro sets it to (hence all the allusions to Hakuri being Chihiro's dog in the Japanese version).

Like Samura, he absolutely will not let others die for his sake. Even disregarding his own inherent value as a person, it doesn't matter to him that he's a key part of the plan for national stability. Whatever happens to him is of no consequence if it means others are safe. He will not let another life slip through his hands again.

So yes, this part of the arc at Senkutsuji is (almost) all for Hakuri. Uruha was an obvious parallel to him from the start, and now Samura's a mirror of his ardent savior complex while the Makizumi reflect the mindset that fuels it.

Sazanami Hakuri: #1 enabler of recklessly suicidal behavior.

What happens next depends on where Hakuri's character growth is intended to go. If he's supposed to be more like Samura, his actions will save the day and everything will be fine even if he himself is out of commission for a while. But if he's supposed to be more like Uruha, then this victory will be fleeting. I think the latter is the more compelling development, personally. There's nothing new or exciting about a character exceeding their limits to achieve an upset victory here. Hakuri's done it three times now, in fact. But I'll have more to say on this later. For now...

Shameless Hakuri Praising

I am absolutely insane over the colour page. It's the first one for a solo character that isn't Chihiro and it's just to show off Hakuri looking absolutely incredible!

Normally don't post the full thing but LOOK AT HIM. HE'S SO COOL!

//NOTE: May as well mark it in the off-chance it isn't removed: the kanji in the blue box is just the title of the series (神楽鉢, Kagurabachi).

I should have been more confident and not let someone talk me out of the "I'm the only one" connection to Kyora's willpower last week. I won't go back to edit it- that mistake will stay forever. But holy shit. I am in love with this colour page and all it represents. I've been waiting for ages for us to get reminders that Hakuri is still a Sazanami! He only destroyed his family about 24 hours ago, so their ideals are still very much present in him and core to who he is.

It's even down to the suit he's wearing! It's the same as his younger appearance in the Ch. 20 flashback panel, just with Kyoura's ugly tie from the Ch. 31 colour page:

Apologies yet again for my shitty MSPaint skills.

This is everything I wanted! Repudiating his family's ideals, taking them down, and leaving them behind to make the world a better place didn't undo everything that he was trained to do for his deeply-held beliefs. Hakuri still carries the legacy of his family with him in how he devotes his entire being to a cause. He's still his father's son.

There's his name, too! 伯理 [Hakuri] means "logical chief". It implies that the person is due respect as the family's role model, among other interesting things. So dressing him up in a suit and giving him his dad's tie makes me go just a skosh feral. He's the true Sazanami ideal that Kyoura could never be- living up to his name despite everything that happened between him and his family. Call it reaching if you want! I won't deny that it's a tenuous implication at best. But I love this kind of shit so I'm going to hold it close and gnaw on it in delulu land.

One last possible interpretation (and my personal favourite)- if the JP text is removed as usual from the EN version, the caption on it is: 胸に秘めたその信念- [mune ni hi meta sono shinen-; "The conviction(s) hidden in his heart..."] (curse Japanese for being vague about singular vs. plural so often) .

Hm. What could such an exuberant character like Hakuri be hiding? This guy is completely open about what he's thinking and feeling at all times- there's no mystery about what's going on with him.

Unless, of course, it has to do with his whole raison d'être.

Ice Lady is a complete unknown to Chihiro, Shiba, and everyone else. He only mentioned her as "someone who set [him] on the right path" in a flash back panel in chapter 34. He keeps what he did to her close to his heart, hidden away from the world. I hope this part of his backstory comes into play this arc or in the future. Her suicide completely changed his mentality but it got mixed into his slavish devotion mindset. He just shifted the focus of that resolve from the Rakuzaichi to saving lives.

But there's something else too. Something much more fundamental affects how Hakuri sees the world and himself that he doesn't talk about, much less acknowledge.

Most people would not frame this kind of physical harm as "love" in any way, shape, or form.

I made a separate post to go way too-depth about this facet of his character but here's the gist: Hakuri's deeply held belief in his own lack of worth is a key factor in his suicidal recklessness when it comes to acting on his other convictions.

He's used to thinking of himself as completely disposable just from the indoctrination he received as a Sazanami, but shovel a heaping helping of abusive, manipulative "love" on top of that? Hoo boy. Hakuri's got some harmful beliefs about his self-worth that he's not ready to face yet, much yet talk about. There's a reason why he's still got those Visual Metaphor Tools still hidden in his warehouse.

Hakuri's true reasons for acting the way he does are hidden alongside the beliefs about himself that he's yet to address, the combination of which are sending him into a self-destructive spiral. Deprogramming arc when?! I've always got my clown suit ready but come on...! Mentioning it so prominently means it's important, right? I'll get to see him talk about his past and trauma with Chihiro (or someone else he comes to trust) to start healing for real, right? RIGHT?!

Nice delusional rant, bro. But what about the chapter itself? Well, there's this deliberate artistic choice:

Chs. 42 & 56

Like father, like son.

Note the cracked mask and double lines that give a sort of distorted pulsing impression for them both. It's a cool as hell way to show them working against enormous mental strain, and they're the only characters to have this effect in the series so far. We're truly meant to see Kyora in Hakuri this chapter.

Of course he passes out right after. But never, ever doubt a Sazanami's capability to defend to the death.

[incoherent screeching]

God I love Hakuri so much. He responds to Samura's will resonating with his own and gives him exactly what he needs to save everyone like he's the Lady of the Lake: Kagurabachi edition.

Hakuri's resolve is the stuff of legends, no doubt about that. Chihiro was right to feel like he couldn't measure up to this guy's sheer tenacity; he's got a will of adamant, just like Kyora.

It's also leading him down the same path of self-destruction. So this moment is clutch as hell and I am cheering for him, yes... but I'm also wondering how the narrative will punish him.

Again, he's not dying despite that being noted as a possible outcome. So the question becomes: how dire was Healer Lady's "you'll lose your sorcery" warning in truth? I'm still 50/50 on him losing access at all, much less permanently. Might lean closer to losing access now than before, but it's not changed much.

Instead, I'm waiting to see how much I should keep glazing the writing.

Death Tangent (Hakuri Edition)

I lost a lot of faith in shounen series in general after I realized that "stop, you'll die!" is just a flat-out lie 99% of the time. Yeah, I know, death doesn't have to be the end result just because a character yelled about it. But the consequences of risking death should make me believe that it really was a possible outcome. It's almost insulting for a writer to try and convince me that the stakes really are that high before having everything be fine after a short bed rest.

Hm, that sounds familiar...

The stakes (chapter 42).

The consequences (chapter 45).

Shiba already committed this sin in chapter 42 and I let it slide because it was the only time so far it'd been invoked. And yeah, Chihiro probably would have went poof without recourse if he couldn't get out of the storehouse in time. But he's the main character so of course he wasn't going to die. Hakuri was the only one truly in danger there.

Char's existence also negates the worst outcomes. It's pretty safe to assume that she can heal any physical wounds our heroes incur- she can even regrow missing limbs with enough time after all! So the default stakes of "stop, you'll die!" are zilch unless the character is killed on the spot or succumbs before they can get to her (which is also undermined by Shiba's teleportation abilities).

...Or if they injure themselves in a way that Char can't help with. Which is why Chihiro's fine, but Hakuri's still struggling.

So, I might be giving the author too much credit with what I'm going to say here. I fully and freely admit it- it wouldn't be the first time I've done this. Yet I feel like the "deadly outcome" scenario here in chapter 56 isn't purely to create tension through cheap tactics. Neither, in fact, was Shiba's line in chapter 42 despite me writing it off as such. Instead, they're mentioned to highlight how self-destructive Hakuri is and set him up for changing that. Reasons being:

Healer lady mentioned death as a worst-case scenario alongside the more plausible consequence of losing his sorcery.

2. This is a direct continuation of the consequences from Shiba's exclamation in Ch. 42 instead of another one-off moment for dramatic tension.

Hakuri is mostly OK after Char's help and a good night's sleep. But he can't use his sorcery without passing out and looks like he's got a bit of a headache too. And what's this? He'll be fine in a few days but he keeps straining himself over and over? He's KOed by the pain with a nosebleed when he keeps pushing? Would you look at that- consequences. And he keeps making them worse!

Hakuri is trying to do that shounen protagonist thing of bashing his head against the wall until it crumbles from his sheer persistence. He got off almost scot-free the first time but he won't wait the few days it'll take to recover. He won't even let himself be taken elsewhere to shorten the time to 30 minutes. That's why we see him in the same state as Kyora when he was fighting off Magatsumi's influence in his death throes- Hakuri's actually risking his life using his abilities now. He's going to genuinely invite death over and over until he's forced not to somehow.

So what'll it be for him? Losing all his sorcery forever- or maybe only temporarily? Shoved offscreen in a coma? Another good night's sleep and actual rest for a week or two to be right as rain? Still running on fumes until the end of the arc? I'll be (unfairly) using the outcome of this situation to decide whether or not to take my sky-high evaluation of the series' writing down a notch. I have no problem putting on a rainbow wig and squeaky shoes if this all turns out to be me making delusional excuses. God knows I've done that plenty as a long-time KH fan and SoRiku shipper. I just want to know what to expect in return for trusting the author with my emotional investment. I can forgive a lot of things, but not having proper consequences for invoking death as an outcome really sticks in my craw.

Miscellaneous Thoughts

Samura and Uruha's argument also ties into the larger themes that I'm hoping get explored when it's time to focus on the Kamunabi as an org: the greatest good vs. the greater good for all. There are strong cases to be made on both sides of the divide and it's possible that some of them will be explored through Chihiro and Hiyuki when we get to them.

In Samura and Uruha's case, Samura is going against the government's well-justified interest in keeping him alive at all costs to act on his personal beliefs. It's noble and heroic- no one can deny that saving lives is an immensely good deed. But it's also a selfish act that exposes the nation to risk. Uruha is the voice of the other side of that philosophical argument saying that it's justifiable to sacrifice a few for the benefit of the many. He loathes that people are dying for him just as much as Samura does. But like Hakuri noted, he understands his own value in the grand scheme of things and acts according to what's best for the majority. In this case, he prioritizes his own life so that the Hishaku can't use a magical nuke in the event of his death.

This could just be reaching on my part, but I feel like it's a prelude to the eventual values conflict between Chihiro and Hiyuki. Chihiro acts in his own interests to do the greatest good he can while Hiyuki (so far) aligns with the Kamunabi's views that power of that level should be controlled for the good of the nation. Her view of Chihiro as a person shifted after the Rakuzaichi- she's willing to help him make his case to her superiors. But we haven't seen a hint of change in this mindset yet:

Ch. 20

Not to mention Kazane and Ikuto still (barely) hanging around after the Sojo debacle.

Chihiro's position hasn't budged at all either. He's got his dad's words about not letting the Kamunabi have access to the blades front and center in his mind, right next to the Hishaku wanting the Kamunabi to have exactly that. They're gonna clash over this for sure. I'm just waiting for the time to come.

On character writing...

I know it's just basic storytelling and Hokazono-sensei's not the first or only author to do it so well, but I truly admire how intricately he writes characters to compliment and bounce off of each other. There are never polar opposites who are simple contrasts. Hakuri and Chihiro, Uruha and Samura- each foil pair is a pleasing blend of shared and opposing ideology and expressions that highlight each other's defining traits, bringing out both the best and worst in each other.

Also, I love all the passionate men in this series. It's so awesome to have a cast whose ages skew heavily into the 30's and 40's still be so damn fiery and hot-headed. Even more temperate ones like Kyora are so full of conviction that they put the younger generation to shame in some respects! They aren't there to just dispense sage wisdom and remind the youngsters to keep the bigger picture in mind. They're flawed people burdened with trauma living life and guiding the younger cast with the best they have. There are some major fuck-ups along the way too- like everything Kyora did to his sons, and Samura accidentally influencing Chihiro to think he's a monster. They have issues that are unconsciously passed along to keep amplifying the manga's core theme of "legacy"- how it's made and echoes through generations. I LOVE STRONG THEMATIC STORYTELLING AT EVERY LEVEL.

Guess I had a lot to yap about this time after a few lighter weeks in a row. Sorry about that, void. Thank you as always if you made it this far. Do a small act of kindness for yourself today, okay?

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Not Ready Part 6/12

Ruben is so funny in this chapter 😅😅

Part 7 and Part 8 are out on my Patreon!

Readers sister dies in a tragic car accident, leaving reader and her boyfriend Ruben in the urgent custody of her niece and nephew. Readers' life is suddenly flipped upside-down since having children hadn't been the plan for her and Ruben's life together. At least not now, when his football career was reaching great new heights.

Enjoy!

Ruben woke up and mechanically reached for you across the mattress. When his hand couldn't locate your body, his eyes flung open, frowning at the sight of your empty side of the bed.

Ruben didn't need an alarm to wake up in the morning. Ruben was the alarm.

His mind and body were so in tune with his daily routine, the core to his way of life as a professional athlete. He moved like clock work on game day. Especially if the game was happening early in the afternoon like this Saturday.

"Erm...Morning."

Although Ruben had failed to complete the first part of his routine, which was greeting and kissing you, he continued to hop in the shower and get a cold one in before breakfast. Breakfast, that was meant to be a protein smoothie. However, something told him that you were all out of powder.

"Morning, Uncle Ruben. I'm making slime."

Ruben paused in the doorway, for the first time not sure what time of the day it was. "Emmy, it's very early. Shouldn't you be asleep?" He regarded the child in pajamas seated by the coffee table in his living room. Her hands were buried deep in a mixture of what he could only assume to be his protein powder and possibly his shaving cream. The smell of the mixture was that strong.

"Uncle Ruben?" Emmy said, in a way that always flared something within him. A fire Ruben thought would never be lit. At least not for another five to ten years from now.

"Yes, Emmy?"

"Did you know that your TV doesn't show any cartoons?"

"Not even on Netflix?" He watched her press his breakfast away with her hands. Making slime. Whatever that meant.

"Well, I obviously thought to check, but it's clear that you and Auntie Y/N have an adult Netflix account and not a kids one like my mom and dad used to have."

Ruben took note of how her eyes faltered at the mention of her parents. It was enough for Ruben to accept that the third part of his morning routine had also failed. Or at least had to be postponed. "I'll have a look at it later." He assured and made his way across the living room, towards the hallway. There his gym bag was packed and ready since the night before. He also found it guarded by the world's fiercest sausage dog.

"Morning Iker, tudo bem?"

His dog greeted him with excited wagging of his tail, licking Ruben's cheeks as he picked him up. "Okay, okay, enough of that, now." He put the dog down but was startled to have another set of puppy eyes staring up at him.

"Are you going somewhere, Uncle Ruben?"

Again, his heart stirred uncomfortably at the passion in Emmy's voice. The utter trust she had in Ruben as if he was indeed her real uncle terrified him. "I have a football game today, Em. Didn't Y/N tell you that?"

"Yes, but that was last Saturday." She picked at something underneath her nails, the majority of her sleeve covered in homemade slime.

"Well, in Premier League, there is a football game almost every weekend."

"My mom used to play football, did you know that?"

"I didn't." He smiled but sympathized with Emmy as her eyes lit up at the thought of a tail from her mother's childhood.

Life truly wasn't fair.

"She was really good." Emmy nodded. "Playing for Chelsea."

Welp, City is better. Ruben wanted to throw out. The bitter part of him, that still needed to have breakfast. "That's really cool, Em. Your mother was really cool."

Ruben grabbed his gym bag along with the house keys, shooting a glare towards the guestrooms. He still hadn't kissed you good morning. You left his bedside last night after Vale came knocking on your door....again. He didn't like the thought of waking up without you. It was really fucking up his daily routine. That and other things. Hopefully the kids would be in bed early tonight. Ruben would get you in the shower with him as soon as they were. The craving he had for your body was getting a bit primitive. You would refuse him these days. Hissing at him if he tried to squeeze your ass whenever the kids were distracted enough not to notice.

"Uncle Ruben?"

"Huh?" He looked down, surprised to find Emmy still standing there, gazing up at him as if determined to wave him off at the door.

"Do you think I'll be as good at playing football as my mother?"

Ruben recognized the yearning in Emmy's voice, the yearning to be close to her mother in any way, if it physically was impossible. "I know you will. Now give me a kiss." Although he wished it was you, Ruben settled with having Emmy push off her feet and peck his cheek.

"And Iker!" She gasped, grabbing the dog, raising him up in the air to receive his fair share of kisses from Ruben.

"I'll see you later, Em."

"See you later, Uncle Ruben, and good luck on your game."

Although irritated by the disruption of his morning routine, Ruben had clearly found a new one. A routine that he couldn't say that he loved, but he was starting to like. Perhaps being 'Uncle Ruben' wasn't that bad after all.

Read full chapter and more on my Patreon

[penny00dreadful]

The Parting Glass

Hey I've been through some shit the last few weeks so let's do Christmas the Irish way. By making it ✨miserable✨ and putting Eddie through situations. But with a hopeful ending.

Just as a note of warning, this fic contains death, funerals and Eddie working through his grief. It was originally devised as a part of this fun little challenge and then... welp, I used it to process. 😅

The prompts I got were: Eddie arrives to town recently single to inherit something, Steve lives in the town and is a famous musician (but not here). Eddie falls in love with the holidays, the town and some guy. I'll be honest these prompts got away from me so they're not followed exactly.

AO3

For my granddad.

It was nearly Christmas and Eddie was driving back to Hawkins for the second time in two weeks.

He was alone. 

Again. 

And for good this time.

The last time, when he had come back when Wayne was sick and not getting any better, he wasn’t supposed to be on his own.

In the days leading up to it, Jack had been in his ear the entire time.

“I’ll be there for you.”

“I won’t let you go through this alone.”

“You won’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“I’ll support you the whole way.”

All over the phone. It couldn’t be helped. Eddie was a writer, he could work from literally anywhere. Or at least anywhere that had an internet connection. Even then, he might not need that. Just a post box. 

Jack was back home in their apartment that Eddie had bought them with his first big paycheck.

Eddie had called to tell him that Wayne had passed, numb and monotone and not really fully registering just what that meant. That he was gone. Like gone-gone. 

Forever.

He wasn’t just gonna… open his eyes again and start talking. He wasn’t gonna go back home, or sit in his armchair or shout at the tv or lie in his own bed one last time… And… What about his mugs? He… Wayne had so many mugs, what was gonna happen to them? He loved those mugs.

And Jack had said he’d be there. He’d promised.

And then he wasn’t.

Because something had come up at work or he thought he was coming down with something or he hadn’t got enough sleep the night before and didn’t feel safe making the drive and he felt really bad about it, just a steady stream of excuses but also- that was it.

I feel really bad about it. Full stop. No attempt to say, I’ll make it up to you. Or even just the bare minimum of I’ll try my best to be there no matter what.

And like a flash in the pan Eddie went from devastated to angry to just cold acceptance. 

“Fine.” He’d grit out over the phone, feeling simultaneously broken hearted and fucking indignant. Because, yes, it was a little selfish to feel like Jack should have thrown all that to the side to be here with him. But his fucking family had just died. He was allowed to be a little selfish.

Eddie needed him there.

Didn’t just want him there, he needed him there.

But instead he had to go through it all, alone.

He was on his own just before Christmas, trying to organise a funeral for the only family he had.

He didn’t have much time to think straight. He resolved to put it all out of his mind until this was all over because Wayne deserved his attention right now.

Eddie had expected it to be small and quiet if he was being honest with himself. Wayne had been a man who kept to himself and all he had was Eddie.

He was just thankful the local funeral home wasn’t completely decked out in tinsel and lights and trees. It was going to be hard enough as it was without a constant reminder of the time of year.

Quiet and subdued, with just a few stragglers, as depressing as that was. He could handle that right?

But then the people started turning up at the funeral home and they just didn’t stop. 

The entire trailer park came out to see him, even Mrs. Cartwright, who was stone deaf and half blind with a bad hip, shuffled into the room on the arm of another of the neighbours, a red headed young woman, to offer her condolences. Then there were Wayne’s coworkers from the plant, the farmers he’d talk to in the pub, his fantasy football league, childhood friends that he hadn’t spoken to in years but still wanted to pay their respects, teachers from the school, store workers, the nurses who looked after him. Eddie’s own friends, the Corroded Coffin boys, the Hellfire kids, Rick, even some of his most loyal customers from back in his dealing days. 

It kept going, just floods and floods of people young and old passing through the room to pay their respects, offer their condolences and shake Eddie’s hand.

He was completely overwhelmed. By the end of it, his hand was fucking sore, his throat was raw and if he lingered on the thought any longer, of how many people had shown up for his uncle, had loved him, he’d start crying all over again, even though he was pretty sure he’d run dry.

Jeff, Gareth and Grant hung around for hours after they’d been through the procession once, waiting for a moment to talk to him and ask if he wanted them to stay with him for the rest of the funeral and after. For as long as he was back in Hawkins.

It went unspoken that Eddie had been in that room alone and they were trying to save him from that, so he took them up on the offer. Stood with his oldest friends that he really should have spoken to more over the years while Wayne was lowered into the ground.

They took him out for a few drinks afterwards but Eddie didn’t have it in him to make it a whole night thing. He was exhausted, but he promised to stay in better contact. 

When it all was said and done, Eddie found it incredibly difficult to get into the car and drive back.

He didn’t want to leave Wayne here alone.

He didn’t want to be states away anymore.

He wanted to be home. In this shitty little small town that he had hated growing up in but was such an important part of his life, that was familiar and sedentary and fucking quaint and most importantly had a memory of Wayne in every single corner.

Jack would never go for it.

But now that Eddie was on his own, in the car, it gave him a lot of time to stew on just how long he’d been on his own already.

Eddie loved fast and Eddie loved hard. If someone gained his trust or his loyalty, he would do anything for them. It would be a very, very hard thing for someone to lose. But it also made him incredibly blind to their flaws.

This wasn’t the first time Jack had pulled out of something at the last second. And most of the time it was just because he didn’t want to do whatever it was, regardless of if he had made promises about it. 

And Eddie had let it go each and every time before because, well, it was fine. He got over it and it wasn’t that big of a deal.

But he had needed Jack there this time. And he’d done it all alone.

If the situations were reversed, Eddie would have crawled on his belly through broken fucking glass to be where Jack needed him and nothing less than an explicit “I don’t want you there” would have deterred him.

And when he got back to their apartment and Jack had turned to him with a sympathetic, “How was it?” Eddie fucking lost it.

He’d screamed so loud and with so much anger and devastation, the neighbours called the cops and again Eddie was on his own trying to explain what had happened while Jack just shuffled around in the background looking vaguely guilty and shell shocked, muttering “You never told me you wanted me there” when the cops finally left.

And Eddie was just fucking done. He was broken. It was finished. 

“I didn’t think I had to. My family died. And you had been telling me the entire time that you’d be there. You told me you’d be there for me. And then you just weren’t.”

So that was it. 

Eddie couldn’t stand to be in that city anymore. Anonymous and lonely and fucking claustrophobic. Couldn’t stand to be in the apartment with its white Christmas lights and expensive baubles and store bought charm without an inch of personality because it “looks prettier this way.”

The fucking cushions that couldn’t be used to prop up his back because he’d squish the filling and the throws that were there for decoration, placed perfectly, giving the apartment the impression of lived in warmth without any actual emotion in it.

He sold the apartment to Jack, waiting for the heartbreak of the end of a years long relationship to finally hit him. But it never did.

Maybe his emotions were all worn out and it would hit him properly later.

The same way he knew he still hadn’t fully registered that Wayne was gone yet.

So.

Now he was here.

Standing in the cold of the trailer park, his breath fogging up in front of him, snow crushed underneath his boots and night blanketing him. He had a box of stuff in his arms, rooted to the ground between his still warm car and the dark and shadowed front door, thinking hysterically for a moment that he hadn’t asked Wayne if he could move back in.

But he couldn’t, of course he couldn’t, Wayne was gone and he wasn’t coming back and Eddie had no way of contacting him in the fucking afterlife if there even was one to ask if he could turn up on his doorstep again in almost the exact same way he had nearly fifteen years ago.

Wayne would have probably given him a light smack over the back of the head and told him he was always welcome, no matter the circumstances.

Still. 

It felt wrong to just assume he could be here without checking in with him first.

He could hear his voice in his head, could almost see him standing silhouetted in the warm glow of the doorway, looking soft and worn in. “Get your ass in here son, before you freeze to death.”

Eddie blinked and the door was closed and dark and empty again. There was no noise coming from inside the trailer, no sound of the tv going, no smells of cooking, no heat, no light.

It was an empty shell.

The glow of the other trailers surrounded him, the small muffled noises of life going on inside each and every one, warm yellows spilling out of their windows or multicoloured lights lining their roofs or their porches, Mariah Carey singing her heart out somewhere in the distance.

“No one ever tells you the front door is one of the hardest parts.”

Eddie jumped, whipping his head around to find the same redheaded woman standing off to the side, bundled up in a thick homemade scarf and puffer jacket, her hands in her pockets and winter boots unlaced, like she'd just thrown them on, the grooves in the snow behind her telling him she’d walked to him from somewhere across the park.

Eddie squeezed the box a little tighter to himself, finally feeling the biting cold through his fingers.

“Yeah. I-” he swallowed, looking up at the door again. “How long have I been standing here?”

He could hear the snow crunching under her boots as she came closer. “I don’t know.” Fabric rustled somewhere beside him as she shrugged. “Mrs. Cartwright only told me you were out here a few minutes ago. I dunno how she even noticed, she can barely see five foot in front of her face.”

Eddie turned to the trailer he remembered the old lady living in to see her sitting by the window, squinting out into the snow. She offered him a toothless smile and a little wave when she saw the two of them looking back.

He was just about able to unstick his hand from the box to wave back.

“And you’re her-?”

“Neighbour. But I check in on her as often as I can. She’s good company.” 

“Oh.”

The two of them stood there, in the cold, in the snow, just looking at each other and Eddie could feel the spectre of the dark and empty trailer looming over him. Before this redhead turned up, he could have conceivably turned back, gotten into the car and found a motel room or something for the night. This might have all been easier to face in the daytime.

But now he’d been seen, he was trapped and he couldn’t escape. He wasn’t sure if he could do it.

“When my mom died,” the woman said, coming around to face him, “I just kinda switched off. I was on autopilot for a lot of the time but my first day back at the trailer after the burial, I couldn’t go inside. She wasn’t in there anymore. Same as you, I don’t know how long I was out there before Steve came and found me.”

“You’re Max.” Eddie said, his brain finally putting the pieces together. “Wayne talked about you.”

Max’s face broke out into a wide delighted grin. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Eddie smiled back. “He said you never wore your helmet when you were skateboarding.”

She snorted. “Yeah. And the one time he finally convinced me to, I took a hell of a tumble. Broke my-”

“Leg, I think it was?”

“Nah, man.” Max shook her head. “Not just my leg, I broke my damn femur. Strongest bone in the body and snap.” She clapped her gloved hands together, muffling what should have surely been a hard impact. “With six months of therapy to go along with it. Got me into the job I’m in today, though.”

“He said you’re a physical therapist?”

“Yup. And he said you’re a writer.”

Eddie nodded.

“Well then, Writer Eddie Munson. How do you feel about the front door now?”

He looked back up, finding that it wasn’t quite as intimidating as it had been before.

“A little better.”

“Good. I’m glad. Can I give you a hand?”

“Oh, uh-” he looked back down at the box in his hand, flexing his fingers around the keychain he still had hanging off his thumb. “Yeah, actually. If you don’t mind.”

Max nodded, stepping forward and taking the box from him. Eddie gave her a small smile before squaring his shoulders and facing the door once more and stepping up towards the porch before he could stop himself.

Amongst his set of similar shaped keys, he easily found the one to the trailer, the same one he had cut out of a black blank when he was younger and so edgy.

With a deep breath he slipped it into the lock and turned, feeling it catch like it always did halfway through and jostling it in a way that was so familiar from years of doing the same thing, it hit him like a truck.

He swallowed down hard as he gestured Max in, switching the lights on.

It didn’t smell like Wayne anymore. Not really. It had been weeks since anyone had been inside. But the memory of the smell was there. 

It was freezing, an empty shell of a building that had been left to hold its ghosts. The pipes were probably frozen through too, but he and Wayne had handled that plenty of times before, this would be nothing new. 

Everything of Waynes was still here. His boots were by the door, his jackets were hung up, his mugs lined the walls. The remote was on the floor next to his recliner, like it had been accidentally nudged off of the arm and hadn’t been picked up yet.

It was like Wayne had just stepped out, or was hiding in another room.

Eddie could feel his heart start to crumble just a little more.

The two of them got his boxes and bags unpacked from his car and into the trailer in silence. He was pretty sure Max knew that he was just waiting for her to leave so he could break down in peace but even so, she turned to face him after placing the last box down.

“You can say no.” She said, hands back in her pockets. “But a few friends are flying in on Thursday and we’re going to meet up at Cathy’s. You’re welcome to come if you’re feeling up for it.”

Cathy’s pub, Wayne used to go there all the time. The actual name of the place was The Attic, but no one called it that, everyone called it Cathy’s. As much of an Irish pub as one could get out in Hawkins without actually being an Irish Pub. It just happened to be run by an Irish woman who refused to entertain four leaf clovers and green pints and had kicked people out in the past for calling it ‘Patty’s Day’ instead of ‘Paddy’s Day.’

Eddie nodded at her, his eyes already starting to mist up from everything settling around his shoulders.

“Thanks.” He sniffled. “I’ll think about it.”

She offered him a gentle smile and said her goodbyes, not lingering around when he so clearly wanted to be on his own.

He watched through the window as Max carved a path through the snow back to Mrs. Cartwright’s trailer, before closing his eyes, taking a deep breath and starting to unpack.

Last night had been one of the roughest nights of Eddie’s entire life.

He’d only managed to switch the electric heater on and open one box before the silence got to him.

He’d switched on the tv and had to flip channels for far too long before he found what he was looking for because he didn’t know where the sports channels were hidden away, he’d never wanted or needed to look for them before.

But having the trailer filled with the sound of sports commentators and the crowds in the stadium and an obscene amount of advertisements was enough to make him crack.

He’d ended up in a ball on the floor, crying so much he felt like he’d never stop, breathing so hard he felt himself getting lightheaded.

Every time the tears subsided and he had started to get a handle on himself, he saw something that would start the cycle all over again. The Garfield mug, Wayne’s favourite winter hat, the stash of red vines he kept hidden beside his armchair, a habit he got into and never got out of when they were living together to keep them away from Eddie’s sweet-tooth.

By the time Eddie had pulled himself up to curl into the couch, he had a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a nest of Wayne’s clothes surrounding him, the smell just barely lingering. 

He drank himself into a stupor.

The morning after was equally rough but in an entirely different way. When he was woken up by the sound of daytime life outside the trailer door, bleary and foggy, he recognised his surroundings before anything else. 

“Wayne?” He’d called, half expecting to turn to find him in his armchair, the sounds of the sports channel still filling in the space of the room. 

But then he remembered. 

All over again he remembered.

He was barely able to do anything for himself that day. Most of it was spent staring off into space, waiting for things to get better, like everyone always said it would. Waiting for the pain to dull and to be able to function again. 

He stood in the doorway of what had been Wayne’s bedroom and then his own and became Wayne’s again once he moved out.

He never thought he’d be back here, moving back into this exact same bedroom all over again. 

He didn’t sleep in the bed that night. Or the night after. 

He couldn’t. Not yet.

He had managed to get the water running, so that was a plus and by the time he had some of his stuff unpacked the trailer no longer looked like a warehouse full of boxes, but instead looked like a cluttered and messy home.

He didn’t have the strength to move any of Wayne’s things, so his own stuff just kind of existed in corners or on countertops and it was fine.

Everything was fine.

This was his life now.

This was what he wanted.

It was fine.

Snow was starting to swirl around him as he stood outside Cathy’s, slowly accumulating in his hair and building up around his boots as the warm light and laughter inside seeped out of the building. 

There were twinkling multi-colored lights lining the outside and glittering through the fogged up windows and Eddie could see inside was decorated with green garlands draped from every available surface, red, gold and silver baubles woven in throughout and topped off with a healthy smattering of tinsel.

It was the most inviting thing he had seen recently and he ached to go inside. It was just so full of memories.

But he was stuck. 

Rooted to the spot like he had been outside the trailer door a few days ago.

Wayne would have loved all of this. 

He loved Christmas. 

He loved Christmas late nights at Cathy’s.

And it was only really then, when he’d been so painfully aware of it in the back of his mind for the last few weeks, that this was going to be the first Christmas he had to endure without Wayne. 

“Eddie?”

Well, no running now. 

But it wasn’t Max this time.

“Eddie Munson, my god. Is that really you?”

Eddie turned and was met by the sight of someone he hadn’t seen in the longest time.

“Chris?”

Chrissy Cunningham was standing in front of him in all her short and bright glory with a blinding smile on her face. Something deep in him warmed under her gaze. They hadn’t been friends for very long before they both skipped town in opposite directions, not to mention the ill-fated crushes they had both quietly harboured for each other once upon a time, but that was never gonna work out.

Even so, a friendly face he recognised was just what he needed right now. Someone to help him brace everything in front of him through those doors. The Wayne of it all. And the terror of potentially being introduced to a whole group of people as a new outsider, in mourning, no less.

A loud burst of laughter rang out from inside as they looked at each other and Eddie felt something fizzle and settle gently in his chest. 

In a tiny little moment, they clicked again, still friends after all this time, no matter the distance.

Chrissy looked at him, a thousand emotions passing through her eyes as she worked through what she was going to say. She had definitely heard about Wayne’s death. Wayne had taken her in on more than one occasion when her mother had gotten to be too much.

Eddie had to get his ability to collect strays from somewhere, after all.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. By the time I heard I couldn’t get a flight in time and I should have been here for you.”

“It’s okay.” he smiled at her. And it was okay, really. 

She wormed her hand in between his elbow and his side where they were clenched tight from the cold, looping her arm through.  “I’ll stick with you the whole night if you want me to.”

Eddie’s whole body sagged in relief, not knowing he needed to hear it until he did. 

“Please.”

Chrissy nodded, a steely look of determination on her face and their arms held tight together as they pushed their way inside.

The warm glow and homely smells hit him immediately and he felt his shoulders loosen even more. It was loud inside but not unbearable, the sounds of conversation mingling in with the speakers softly playing out a mix of traditional Irish music and what had to be some Christmas best hits album. 

Eddie dragged his eyes across the bar, while Chrissy looked around at the people sitting at various tables and booths. 

“Are you looking for anyone in particular?” He asked.

“I only just flew in today. I’m supposed to be meeting up with a number of- oh! There they are.”

She pointed towards the back by the fire that Cathy had put in, claiming it couldn’t be a proper pub without a fire. The series of tables were all pushed a little closer to each other, overflowing with people and Eddie had to blink at them a few times, realising there were definitely a few familiar faces grinning back at him and waving the two of them over.

The first person he recognised was Max, her bright red hair standing out amongst the sea of browns and chestnuts and blacks. It was then that his eye was drawn around the table and saw his Corroded Coffin boys and the Hellfire kids looking back at him. 

Damn, he’d forgotten to tell the boys about his impulsive move back here. He hadn’t really told anyone about it apart from Jack. But they didn’t seem to hold it against him. It was plain as day on their faces that they knew he might not exactly be doing things logically right about now.

And then there were the Hellfire kids. 

Or he supposed he could hardly call them kids anymore. 

They would all be somewhere in their mid-twenties at this stage and wasn’t that just a mind trip?

They all stood to greet Chrissy and himself, hugs and pats on the back all around, the Hellfire kids and Max introducing one of the few truly unfamiliar faces amongst the bunch, El. Another woman he vaguely recognised gave him a small wave but eventually he realised who she was, because this was a small town and everyone at least knew of everyone in one way or the other. 

Robin Buckley, from band.

What a strange mix of people.

She and Chrissy shared a long look with each other, eventually revealing that Robin was her long term girlfriend.

Eddie nodded along, told her it was nice to meet her but couldn’t help the taste of bitterness that rose up in his throat when he looked at the two of them, not being able to remember the last time he had been out with Jack and feeling like his company was enjoyed and Jack wasn’t just waiting to go home with or without him. 

It had barely been a week since they had broken up but the loneliness had been there for a while. 

He had only just managed to get his coat and scarf off before Cathy appeared at their table, a drink in each hand.

“Eddie, darling.” She said, placing the two drinks down in front of him and scooping him up into a hug. “It’s so good to see you back home, love.”

She was an older woman, warm and wrinkled and soft, smelling vaguely of cigarette smoke and perfume in a mix that shouldn’t have been as comforting as it was.

“Thanks, Cathy.” He muttered into her neck, pulling back away only to find his face in her hands. 

“If you need anything at all, you know where to find me, right?”

He gave her a shaky smile, not really sure what to do with himself, he could feel everyone else at the table watching them.

“Yeah.”

“Good boy.” She grinned back at him, petting his cheek before gesturing down at the drinks she dropped off at the table.

“This is for you, love. On the house.” She pointed at the beer bottle. “And this one,” she rested her hand next to the glass of whiskey, neat. Wayne’s drink. “It’s tradition. One last tipple for your dear uncle. And none of you,” she whipped around, pointing an accusing finger at everyone in the booth, “are to touch it.”

They all stared up at her wide eyed and nodded while she turned her smile back on Eddie. “You take care of yourself, now. You hear me?”

“I’ll do my best.” He gave her a short salute and she rolled her eyes at him in a good natured way before turning and heading back to the bar.

Eddie swept his eyes over the pub, hoping to get an idea of how much of a scene had been made, as quiet as they had been tucked away in their corner. But before he could take a proper inventory, the doors were pushed open and even from the back of the pub Eddie could feel the cold following in the figure's wake.

The newcomer brushed the snow out of his hair and stomped his shoes out before flashing a smile at Cathy and weaving his way through the tables towards them.

He was almost offensively pretty, his cheeks, nose and lips rosy from the cold, unwinding a scarf from around his neck, giving Eddie a glance at a spattering of moles across his skin. He ran a hand through his hair again, trying to get out the last of the snow.

He looked so familiar. 

It had been a long ten or so years since they'd seen each other, but it couldn’t be. 

Could it?

“Hi, sorry I’m late, I-”

“Harrington?”

Steve Harrington stopped short, standing in front of him, staring at him with cheeks getting slightly redder.

“Eddie.” He said, a little breathlessly, running his hand through his hair again, but it seemed to be more from nerves this time. “Hi.”

Oh, so they were on first name terms? Okay, he could deal with that. 

Except that maybe he couldn’t deal with it, because his childhood Big Gay Crush was standing in front of him, smiling at him and looking like he’d just been beamed out of the campest Christmas movie in existence, the warm glow of the Christmas lights and the fire dancing across his skin, bundled up in a dark red sweater and his hair was somehow still perfect.

But he was saved from having to respond as the group started shuffling around to greet him, Robin reaching out to pull him into a tight hug, like they hadn’t seen each other in ages.

Eddie moved back, sitting down at a stool at the edge of the tables, next to Chrissy and across from Robin and Steve who were whispering fiercely to each other, Robin explaining the whiskey on the table wasn’t to be touched and sending what they must have thought were subtle nods in his direction and well, he wasn’t sure what else he expected from tonight.

Apparently he was a local spectacle now.

But still, his boys were here, the Hellfire kids were here, Chrissy was here, he had plenty of people available to him to distract himself from Steve sitting directly across from him.

He had only managed to get halfway through the drink Cathy had brought him before he was approached again, this time by an older man who he recognised as one of the guys on Wayne’s shift.

He placed a fresh drink down in front of Eddie and told him Wayne was a good man, that the world was a little dimmer for his passing and he was a hell of a baseball player back in the day, could throw a ball at speed like no one he had ever seen since.

Eddie smiled and listened as the guy spoke, the clear affection and joy he had for his uncle warming his heart.

It was barely ten minutes after that guy had gone back to his own group that Eddie was approached again, another drink placed down in front of him and more sympathies and stories of Wayne’s past gifted to him from people who had known him.

It went on like that throughout the whole night, a steadily revolving door of people coming to talk to him about his uncle. 

Stories of the stupid and dangerous shit they had gotten up to in their childhoods, stories of cow tipping (which Eddie had heard from Wayne’s own mouth was a bold faced lie but a fun one to tell), tractor racing (which he had not heard about) and one time Wayne had been chased out of Farmer Dan’s barn by the man himself wielding a shotgun, convinced he’d been corrupting his daughter.

Stories of nights playing poker, learning to never ever trust his poker face, his abysmal luck when it came to his fantasy football teams and how much he loved to get a bit of drink in him and sing at the top of his lungs, which Cathy always humoured, often joining in.

Almost as if she had been summoned, Cathy appeared at his other side.

“Will we have a little sing-song for your uncle, love?”

Eddie looked up at her and thought about it. To hear the accented and cracking old voices singing along to the songs that just seemed to live in pubs like these would probably hurt, but it would be like lancing a wound. 

It would sting but it would be healing.

“Yeah.” He said. “I don’t see why not.”

“Would you do us the honours, then?”

Eddie felt his eyes go wide. He was never really much of a singer. “Oh. No,” he blushed, shaking his head, “I don’t think so, I’ll leave that up to the professionals.” He gestured around to the group of older men he had managed to collect as the night wore on. “If it’s one thing Wayne didn’t hand down to me, it was his singing voice.”

Cathy waved him off. “Oh nonsense, you have a lovely voice.”

He really didn’t.

“I really don’t.”

“We’ll be singing along with you anyway-”

“No, I’d rather not-”

“I could do it for you.”

Eddie turned to face Steve who was looking the least nervous that he had for the entire night, his gaze steady and confident, clearly comfortable in his singing ability. Robin was staring hard at the side of his head, like she was trying to beam thoughts directly into his brain. Eddie’s heart was thumping in his chest and he could feel his cheeks start to heat up, something he was pretty sure had little to do with the drink.

“You sing, Steve?”

Robin’s mouth ticked up at Eddie’s question though she tried to hide it, like she was harbouring a little secret.

“I’ve been known to.” Steve’s own lips curled up, shooting that tiny little smile Eddie’s way and-

Oh.

Oh shit.

Childhood Big Gay Crush, you’ve been upgraded to Current Big Gay Crush.

“Any requests?”

Eddie thought back. 

There was only one song that came to mind to kick them off.

Wayne had always loved a certain type of song to sing in the pubs and when Metallica came out with a cover of one of them, a cover of the Thin Lizzy version? It was solidified. 

It was their song, regardless of which version was being sung.

Now he just had to try to get through it without bursting into tears.

“Whiskey In The Jar.”

Steve smiled at him bright and blinding. “Thank god you didn’t say The Rattlin’ Bog.”

Eddie grinned back. “I couldn’t dump you in the deep-end like that, sweetheart.”

Cathay was practically bouncing with excitement and when Steve opened his mouth and started to sing, not a hint of bashfulness or embarrassment to be seen, it didn’t take long for Wayne’s friends to join in, singing and clapping along, stomping their feet and whooping. 

Eddie just sat and listened. Just for that one song. He could feel it settle around his heart and clog up his throat but he could handle it. Steve’s voice was smooth and clear, like it all came to him with zero effort, like he was born to it, the bastard.

Eddie was able to keep it together through that song and while the applause surrounded him and Steve was starting to field suggestions for more songs, the rest of their table started to join in, the energy of the pub becoming electric.

As the night wore on and Eddie was handed drink after drink, he found himself drifting right into the group, until he was in the middle, Steve’s arm stretched over the back of the booth behind them, squished in together as they were. They didn’t strictly need to be as pressed up against each other as they were, but neither of them were moving and Eddie would take his comforts where he could, listening to the voice vibrating from the body next to him.

Eddie was able to hold it together until they decided they’d do one last song and he knew he wasn’t going to survive it dry eyed.

Of all the money that ever I had,

I spent it in good company.

Steve had barely gotten through the first verse before the tears started, just a slow and quiet trickle but noticed immediately regardless.

Steve’s hand dropped from where it was at the back of the booth to land around Eddie’s shoulders, giving him a little squeeze while Chrissy took his hand, resting her head on his shoulder. 

Steve sang slow and unaccompanied, his voice ringing out clear and steady while Cathy and Wayne’s friends listened with heads hung low. He let the last notes fade out, keeping Eddie tucked in tight to his side as the applause rang out and everyone started making their moves to head home.

Even as Eddie had to go through the rigmarole of shaking hands and kissing cheeks, much drunker than he thought he was, Steve held onto him. He heard more than one of Wayne’s friends mutter “You take care of him, you hear?” or “Get him home safe” and each time Steve smiled and nodded, assuring them he would.

He didn’t know exactly when he had become Steve’s problem but he was too drunk to care, it was nice to be looked after for once.

Sunlight was spearing straight through his head. Someone hadn’t closed the blinds properly last night and now he was being assaulted by this world's version of Pelor in what had to be some kind of revenge for something terrible he must have done in a past life. 

Dragging his eyes around the trailer, he was thankful that he was on the couch. He hadn’t slept in Wayne’s bed since moving back here. He didn’t think he would be able to for a while yet. At least not until he started moving some of his stuff out and who knew how long that might take.

It didn’t feel right, taking Wayne out of his own bedroom for the second time in his life. 

But even so, he wondered which poor misfortune from the pub last night had been the one to deal with him and take him home, probably seeing the state things had been left in and the fact that he was clearly using the couch as a bed.

Maybe it had been Max. He kind of hoped it had been Max, he felt like she could probably relate the best, though Chrissy would have been kind about it too.

Eddie was able to drag himself up to sitting, still clad in his t-shirt and boxers, so at the very least, whoever had spilled him onto the couch last night didn’t get an accidental show.

There was something sticking in the back of his head that it could have been Steve who brought him home but that would be the most embarrassing eventuality of all so he just straight up ignored it, making his coffee as strong as humanly possible and dragging himself and the coffee into the shower. 

Today was gonna be… today was gonna be an inside day. He didn’t think he could stomach the outside world, all the brightness and snow and Christmas lights and festive cheer in mourning and hungover.

His trailer was the only one left in the park undecorated. He couldn’t…

He just couldn’t.

Not right now, anyway.

Maybe next year.

He and Wayne had always done it together. Even when Eddie had moved away from home, he’d make the drive back down at the start of December every year to help, staying the night and then going back to Jack for a couple of weeks then coming back again for the week of Christmas.

He-

Oh.

He was going to be completely alone this year.

He didn’t just not have Wayne. 

He didn’t have Jack either.

And no doubt, everyone who was back in town was back in town for their own reasons, to see their own friends and family, not to bring in a stray mourner who would undoubtedly bring the mood down. 

Well, that was fucking depressing. 

But it was fine.

He’d make himself a mountain of waffles and eat nothing but those all day and watch stupid horror movies and smoke himself into oblivion to avoid the destructive hangover and it would be fine. 

It would hardly be a Christmas but it would be fine.

A knock at the door made him blink and woke him up from his daily routine of staring off into space. He had finally found himself feeling somewhat human, at least physically. Dressed and dried and on his second round of coffee and first round of painkillers, standing in the doorway to Wayne’s bedroom again when the knock came.

He glanced between the front door and the bedroom, wondering if it was even worth it to see what salesperson or caroler was on the other end. They didn’t deserve his moody ambivalence, but whoever it was knocked again and maybe just the sight of him would be enough to scare them away.

He swung the door open and nearly closed it immediately when Steve looked up at him with a shy smile. 

He didn’t know if he could handle this right now. 

“Hi.” Steve said, his cheeks pink either from the cold or from embarrassment, Eddie wasn’t sure which. 

He was like… fifty percent sure that Steve might be, maybe, giving him some signals but also he got very, very drunk last night and he was pretty sure he remembered crying on someone’s shoulder after he got home too so, he was probably not the best judge of these things.

“Hi.” Eddie clutched his coffee cup tighter in his hand. “I’d invite you in, but I would rather you not see how I’m living right now.”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “I’ve already- nevermind.” He shook his head. “I can’t stay long anyway, I just wanted to check if you were okay after last night.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows and blew a breath out through his lips. “I’m… I’m. Well. I’m… coping, I suppose.”

Steve nodded, eyes cast down to glance around the porch. There was a flake of snow clinging to one of his eyelashes, Eddie didn’t know how it got there. It hadn’t been snowing that morning, not from what he’d seen anyway, cooped up inside. Steve looked up towards the roof of the trailer and then around the edges, no doubt taking in its depressing and undecorated exterior.

“Listen, I-” 

Steve hesitated, his cheeks burning a little brighter, hands shoved in his pockets and arms curled in tight towards himself. Eddie felt a little bad about leaving him out here in the cold, not even inviting him in regardless of how it was inside, it felt unnecessarily mean but he didn’t know if he could handle having Steve in his space right now. He felt like he was at either a knife’s edge or unbearably dull this morning.

“I wanted to offer you- or, I don’t know. If you didn’t have any plans, that- well, I’m hosting everyone at my place on Christmas day and you would be more than welcome if you wanted to come. Y’know… if you weren’t… if you didn’t-”

“If I’m gonna be alone?”

Steve turned his big sad eyes on him, mouth gone slack from shock. 

“No! No, that’s not what I meant. I never meant to suggest-”

Eddie shrugged, taking a sip from his mug. 

“It’s an unfortunate fact, right now, Stevie. I am alone. It’s depressing but it’s the truth.”

“Well.” Steve took a big breath in. “It doesn’t have to be.”

Eddie hummed, rocking back and forth on his feet. “Who’s everyone? I don’t know if I would be able to handle your parents. No offence.”

Steve scoffed. “None taken. They haven’t set foot in that house in nearly ten years. It’s not theirs anymore, it’s mine.”

“Oh. They dead too?”

To Steve’s credit, he didn’t flinch at the words that were maybe a little harsher than they needed to be, he met Eddie’s eye, determined and unwavering.

“No, they’re not. They left Hawkins, left me the house, called it my inheritance and drove off. They’re in New York now. We exchange Christmas cards but that’s about it.”

Eddie was a little bewildered.

“You don’t talk to them at all?”

Steve shrugged. “We know who we are to each other.”

So Steve still had parents out there in the world and they just… didn’t talk to each other? And from the sounds of it, all three of them seemed fine with that? Now that sounded depressing. 

“Steve, I’m… I’m sorry.”

Steve tilted his head, their eyes never once wavering. “It’s a different kind of mourning, I suppose.” He shuffled a little bit in the cold and fuck, Eddie really should have invited him inside, but it looked like he was getting ready to leave anyway. “So, on the day it’ll be me, Rob and Chris. The kids will come over later on in the evening. And I think Dustin has invited those three guys from your band too, so they might show up. Like I said, no pressure, you do whatever it is you’re comfortable with but I think they’d all like to see you, I’d-” 

Steve swallowed, his face getting pinker.

“I’d like to see you.”

Eddie could feel a grin tugging at his lips, something giddy and hopeful blooming in his belly despite everything. “Oh, would you now?”

Steve flashed him a charming grin, his shoulders relaxing almost imperceptibly while he dragged his eyes down towards Eddie’s lips and then back up. “I would.”

“Well then, I’ll have to see what I can do.”

Despite the things he said to Steve, he wasn’t sure he was going to turn up until he did.

He’d gotten into his car Christmas morning with a thermos of hot chocolate and an insulated blanket and visited Wayne.

He’d placed Wayne’s old fashioned chipped and battered mug that he only ever drank hot chocolate out of at Christmas time, a painted wreath and ‘Merry Christmas’ decorating the front, down next to the wooden cross dug into the head of his grave.

The headstone wouldn’t be finished for another few weeks.

He spread the blanket down over the snow, wishing he’d thought to bring a cushion but powering through regardless.

He poured out some hot chocolate for himself and Wayne, sat back, drank and just… talked.

He told Wayne about his breakup with Jack, about selling the apartment, about moving back into the trailer, apologised for not checking in with him first before he did. He talked about everyone who came to the funeral and the night at the pub, the songs, the people he spoke to, the friends he found there.

Steve.

He might have spent a little longer talking about Steve. It was nothing Wayne hadn’t heard before, though. Eddie had talked about him a lot during school.

He rambled and tripped over his words and laughed and cried.

He was alone in the graveyard. No one else was visiting at this cold hour of the morning, they would all probably stop by after mass or after dinner but Eddie hated the idea of not seeing him first thing.

Going back home after that was hard.

His hands were stiff and creaking, his ass was so numb from the cold it had come back around to hurting again and he didn’t know if it would ever thaw, but sitting in his van outside the trailer, looking at it cold and empty and undecorated he knew he couldn’t spend the whole damn day here.

He wasn’t sure what time he was supposed to show up to Steve’s but it seemed like an informal enough invite so he tried to distract himself as best as he could before he could make his appearance at an appropriate time.

He called it tidying but it was really just moving things around from corner to corner, trying to find spaces for his stuff to live, but at the very least the trailer no longer looked like Eddie had just dumped his entire life out onto the living room floor.

Which… he had but it didn’t really look like it anymore.

By the time the evening started to close in around him, he figured now was as good a time as any to go, it was certainly a better idea than sitting around with his blank word document, bouncing his knee or chewing on his fingers or staring off into space.

He did try to at least pull himself together to look presentable enough. Or as presentable his ripped jeans would allow him to be. 

At the last second he reached for one of Wayne’s flannels, a buffalo check in red and black that felt Christmassy enough, slipping it on over his t-shirt and under his jacket.

Steve’s house was completely decked out. Even from the outside Eddie could tell he’d gone all out, every edge of the roof was crawling with twinkling warm white lights, there were LED candle arches lighting up every window and a large wreath surrounding the door knocker. Through the windows he could see that the inside was much the same.

Steve’s whole face lit up into a bright smile when he opened the door to Eddie standing there with his hands in his pockets.

“You came.” He breathed.

“I did.” Eddie smiled back. “I hope you don’t mind, I'm a little empty handed. By the time I remembered it was polite to bring something to these things it was already too late and I’ve been a little scatter-brained recently-”

“No, no. That’s fine, Eds.” Steve waved him in and Eddie tried not to let his stomach completely fly away with him at the nickname. “Come in. I’m just happy you're here, empty handed or not.”

Just like Steve had that night at the pub in his red sweater and perfectly tousled hair, the entire house looked like it had been transported out of a Christmas movie. The space was warmly lit by various lights strung around the bannister, fresh green garlands swagged over doorways and the fireplace, which was roaring and warm.

Red and green stockings were lined up over the mantle, almost too many to fit, and a large regal Christmas tree was decked out to the nines with a mishmash of different coloured decorations.

The tree and the garlands gave the whole place an inviting smell, complemented by the scent of cooking and baking that was wafting in from the kitchen.

Steve helped him slip his jacket off his shoulders, hanging it up over the coat rack.

“Can I get you something to drink? You’re just in time, dinner should be coming out of the oven any second now.”

“Yeah, that would be great.”

Steve shot him a blinding smile, turning and disappearing through an entryway while Eddie wandered to stand in front of the fire.

He stared down at it, letting the warmth spread over him wondering if he really should be feeling… more? Less? 

He still felt sad that Wayne was gone and excited at the idea that something might be brewing with Steve, but was that right? Was that normal? Should there be other things? He didn’t know.

He was distracted from those thoughts by the sound of bickering coming from the kitchen.

“Rob, let me just-”

“No, get out!”

Steve stumbled through the doorway with a little pout on his face, managing to keep the two wine glasses in his hands from spilling over.

“Did you just get kicked out of your own kitchen?”

“Yeah.” He grumbled, handing one of the glasses to Eddie and Eddie did not blush when their fingers light grazed one another. He was an adult fucking man who’d done many filthy, dirty things in his life. He did not blush at a finger graze. “She won’t let me do anything else. Said I’ve cooked enough already which, I don’t know how that could possibly be true considering it isn’t even finished yet but-”

Steve cut himself off with a bite to his lip.

“Sorry, that’s- nevermind. I’m rambling.”

“It’s okay, Stevie. I don’t mind.”

Steve smiled, a little more to himself than to Eddie and said softly, “I like it when you call me that.”

Eddie had to drag his eyes away, the sweetness of Steve’s grin was too much to handle right now.

“I like it when you call me Eds.”

They were just standing there smiling at each other and slowly rocking on their feet, like they wanted to inch forwards but neither was brave enough to take the leap.

“Are you in the food industry? Is that why Robin gave you the boot?”

“No.” Steve shook his head. “I think I probably would have liked it, but no. I sing. Singer-songwriter, really but- I mean- I’m in music.”

“Really?” Eddie’s mouth was maybe hanging open a little wider than it needed to be, but Steve didn’t seem to mind. He hadn’t torn his eyes away. “I mean you have the voice for it, but shit, that’s not an easy industry to be in.”

Steve shrugged. “It could be worse. I work independently so I don’t have anyone breathing down my neck about it.”

“Anything I would have heard?”

“I dunno.” Steve blushed, hiding behind his wine glass as he took a sip. “Don’t really think it’s your type of music.”

“I’ll give anything a try once.”

Steve grinned a little and Eddie could tell there was a joke hidden in there somewhere that Steve graciously didn’t voice aloud. “It’s a mix of everything I suppose. But if you were to put a genre on it I’d call it indie rock.”

“I’m just letting you know right now, little eighteen year old Eddie is green with jealousy. I’ll have to look you up.”

“Please don’t.” Steve grimaced, his whole face bright red. “I don’t think I would be able to live with the embarrassment. And what about you, anyway? How’s the new book going?”

“Uh,” Eddie cast around for an answer before gulping back a mouthful of wine. “It’s going… it’s going. I’ve been kinda stuck at a wall for a few months now, but hopefully something will come to me soon.” He frowned to himself before looking back up at Steve. “How did you hear I was writing a new book? I wouldn’t have even thought you’d remember who I was, like in general.”

“How could I not remember you? You’re hard to forget.”

It was Eddie’s turn to hide behind his wine glass now. He wasn’t exactly sure how true that was, considering everything about his past relationship.

“But… uh. As for how I knew,” Steve rubbed that back of his neck, “I’ve read them. Your books, I mean.”

Eddie’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. 

“You have? And you read them knowing it was me who wrote them?” He laughed to himself. “Didn’t think you’d be into queer vampire action romance.”

“You have no idea what I’m into Eds.” Steve answered, his eyes low and lidded, a smirk pulling up at the side of his mouth.

Eddie was saved from making a further fool of himself when Robin and Chrissy appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“Feast’s served!”

The girls each said their hello’s, an arm squeeze from Robin and a hug and a kiss on the cheek from Chrissy before he was practically pushed down into his seat.

The dining table was large enough to have everything on the table, turkey, ham and all the trimmings, bowls with spoons sticking out of them and plates with tongs, even enough space left over for candles and decor in the middle of it all.

As bowls were passed around and both Steve and Robin made the first move on the food, tipping servings out to Eddie and Chrissy before themselves, Eddie found himself getting lost in conversation from all three directions.

He gossiped with Chrissy while Steve and Robin bickered over the best cut of the turkey. 

Throughout the dinner, Robin tried to sneakily get rid of her sprouts by dropping them one by one onto Steve’s plate when he wasn’t looking, but he noticed every time, savouring them with a satisfaction that could only come from someone who actually liked them.

He got into his own good natured argument with Robin about marching band while Steve and Chrissy talked sports.

And he flirted.

Brazenly.

Probably far more brazenly than he should have but Steve always rose to meet the challenge with a curl of his lip and a glint in his eye.

By the time dessert was making the rounds he was pretty sure he could have fallen asleep sitting at the dining table, but finding room for the cakes and pies and trifles, as always.

Steve had stopped drinking after that first glass and while Eddie didn’t exactly want to get completely plastered, he still allowed himself to get to a polite level of tipsy.

The girls had no such worries, already rosy cheeked and a little sloppy by the time the kids and Eddie’s band arrived.

The rest of the night was full of Christmas music, the most ridiculous games of charades which Eddie won every time, pulling on his old DM skills and after a passionate argument on what the worst Christmas movie was, the winning candidate was turned on, everyone laughing and jeering along with it like it was a Rocky Horror showing, Eddie pressed into Steve’s side on the couch.

It was during a particularly loud moment, all of them booing the screen when he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket.

Pulling it out he saw the screen light up with a name he hadn’t really thought of for most of the night.

Jack.

He stared down at the name for longer than he really needed to before sighing to himself.

“I’ll be back in a minute.”

Steve glanced between the phone and his face before settling into a gentle smile.

“Okay.” He gave his shoulder a small squeeze and Eddie got up, bringing the phone to his ear and stepping out of the room.

“Hello?”

There was a momentary pause on the other line before a quiet voice spoke. “Hi, Eddie.”

Eddie wasn’t entirely sure what to say back to him. Why are you calling? Why are you suddenly interested? Has the guilt finally gotten to you? Is it because it’s Christmas and you thought I’d be alone?

In the end he didn’t have to say anything.

“I’m just- I guess I just wanted to see how you’re doing.” Jack sounded resigned and a little sad. If they had still been together, Eddie would have been trying to drag him out to the Christmas market or trivia nights or Christmas parties for the last few weeks and they would have been heading out in a day or two to spend the rest of the holidays with Jack’s family in Ohio. Jack had only come back with him for a Christmas with Wayne once before.

But it sounded like Jack was already with his family. Eddie could hear his mothers Michael Bublé Christmas album playing softly in another room.

“I’m doing…” Eddie sighed, leaning back against the wall. “I’m doing okay.”

A loud chorus of laughter burst through the sitting room, shouting and jeering following quickly behind.

“You’re out somewhere?”

Eddie glanced back through the door, watching everyone gathered either talking to each other, pointing in indignation at the tv, tucking into another serving of dessert or knocking back the last of their drink, all backlit by the Christmas lights and the fire.

“I’m with friends.”

“Good.” He could hear Jack nodding, wondering how he was handling his mothers questions or his fathers awkwardness that Eddie usually deflected for him. “That’s good. I’m glad you- I’m glad you’re not alone.”

No thanks to you, Eddie wanted to snap but kept it down. He didn’t have the energy for an argument right now. Didn’t want one. It was Christmas and he wanted to keep the comfortable, fuzzy feeling around for as long as he could.

Steve lifted his eyes, looking right at him and grinning, something soft, something warm and easy, just for him.

Eddie smiled back. “Yeah, me too.”

Steve drove him home that night. It was nearly two in the morning by the time he was bundled up in the car with a lap full of tupperware and his heart feeling lighter than it had for weeks now.

He’d been offered a room to stay in, but had refused. He didn’t want to impose any more than he already had and if he was honest with himself, he wanted to be at home. 

Plus he hadn’t brought anything for an overnight.

When they pulled up, Eddie tried to shuffle his way out of the car without dropping anything but eventually had to huff and hand some of the containers over when Steve offered to help him carry them all.

They were inside before Eddie remembered his previous refusal to let Steve in through the door, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Steve gave a cursory glance around but his eyes always seemed to be drawn back to Eddie, placing the containers down on the kitchen counter and assuring him he’d be back in the morning to drive Eddie back to his car.

“I hope you had a good time.” Steve looked at him, all warm and gooey and too good to be true.

“I had a great time, I think I needed it.” Eddie fidgeted with his rings, nervous all of a sudden. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“Of course. It was great to see you, I’m glad you came.” 

They stood, staring at each other and Eddie had the urge to hide his face behind his hair, but he resisted.

Steve reached out, brushing a curl behind his ear and then leant in, placing a sweet and chaste kiss against his cheek and Eddie was left completely dazed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” Eddie breathed, nodding. “Yeah, tomorrow.”

He watched Steve step out onto the porch and slide into his car, driving away with a little waggle of his fingers. Eddie unconsciously brought his hand up to brush over his cheek where he could still feel the tingle of Steve’s lips against his skin.

When the headlights of Steve’s car turned the corner, Eddie closed the door, staring at it in silence for a few moments before a hysterical little giggle burst out of his throat.

His whole body was wracked through with momentary excitement, forcing him to spin in a silly little circle. He stifled another giggle, sighing it out before his eyes landed on the couch.

He looked back up at a photo from a few years ago, of him and Wayne on a road trip that they had taken, sitting on a wooden fence surrounding a national park. Wayne always said it was just “One step at a time, boy. You’ll never get anywhere if you don’t take that first step.”

“Yeah, I hear you, Wayne.” Eddie responded out into the empty trailer. “First step.”

He looked up towards the bedroom.

He felt like, maybe tonight, maybe he could be comfortable with that first step.

Pulling a fresh set of bedsheets out of storage and turning back to the bed with them bundled up in his arms, he figured he’d just have to take it one step at a time.

I made a short playlist to go along with this fic containing the songs sung and the different versions mentioned along with one or two others I think they may have sung and my own favourites.

Some of you may have read I lost a family member a couple of weeks ago and I suppose this is my way of working through my feelings about it. It hit a little harder than I had intended but was healing to write nonetheless.

AO3

As always, my biggest thanks and much love to @hbyrde36 for the beta work with this and to the Stranger Things Writers Guild Discord for their motivation!

Christmas lights divider by @silkholland