#would probably bump the rating if we got a better explanation for what happened to Anne too

[mommalosthermind]

went to see the geneticist about that whole cancer thing today so. I’m gonna put a read more, because I tend to ramble, and then I’m gonna fucking shout into the void because American Healthcare would prefer if you’d be so kind as to just shut up and die quickly, please.

Sixty minutes. Sixty minutes I spent with this woman carefully explaining to me how this test would work and why she thinks I should do it. forty of those minutes she said things like, “your family history is… a lot,” “Family is only ten percent of the equation so don’t panic too much,” “But your risk is still probably somewhere around 30% and if this test is postitive that bumps right up to EIGHTY—,” (Insert in-depth but understandable explanation of genes and terms I only half remember now but was fascinating at the time tbh)

I loved her, she was fantastic. And then. And then.

She put down all her files and folded her hands on the table. This woman went from sweet and professional and kind right to the type of bone-deep sorrow that’s got nowhere to go so it builds.

“First, I need you to know that I believe in what we do here. It sounds like this test would alleviate a lot of your concerns, no matter what the results. I do feel that you should get this screening done, for yourself and your kids. However.”

And she stopped, and took a deep breath. “The good news is, we’ve passed a law so that a positive test cannot influence your health insurance in anyway. We’re not even required to give them your results. The problem with that, is the law comes with loopholes. If you come back positive, we are legally required to give that information to certain places upon being asked. And if you do not have these programs already in place, it will be very difficult to get them after a positive, because a positive is considered a pre-existing condition. Life insurance companies. Disability. If you ever need long-term or in-home care. These places will look at that positive and, at the very least, raise your potential rates.” “So,” I said, like an idiot who should’ve known better but was too busy focusing on how this test meant I’d finally fucking know just how worried I should be, “You’re saying that this test, which is preventative care, would make it impossible to get the programs I’d need, if and when I actually get sick.”

“They don’t see you as a person,” she answers. She sounds so fucking tired. She’s said this so often the words have carved grooves into her mouth. They probably don’t hurt anymore, but she looks like she wishes they would. “They’re a business first and only.”

“I’m aware of how capitalism works, yes. I’d apparently forgotten how much it would prefer I die without inconveniencing the system supposedly designed to help me.” Then I apologize for allowing the angry millennial in me control of my tongue.

She just shakes her head. “Honey. I’m right there with you.”

I don’t know what the right answer is here. I don’t HAVE life insurance. We can’t afford it. My partner gets his through the military, which means I’m only eligible if we get hitched. But if we do that, me and all three kids lose healthcare entirely. Stars forbid something actually fucking happens to me. “I can’t tell you the right answer here. All I can do is tell you what I’ve seen happen. There was a woman, not too long ago, who’s got a similar background to you. Small kids and all.” The geneticist looks down at her hands. “I told her the same thing. She decided to go ahead despite not having these programs set up in advance.” She puts both hands up, like she’s warding me off, but you and I already know how this ends. “I have to make sure you know, we did not anticipate a positive at all. At all. But she came back positive, and now she’s having a nightmare trying to set up some kind of life insurance to take care of her kids in case something does pop up.” “You mean they’re turning her away, or asking for insane amounts of money, because they’d rather she die than help. Y’know. Like they’re supposed to. Because the healthcare part of this is caring for my health.”

“You’d think,” She said. I wonder how she sleeps, when she’s pulled so thin. How she can still go to work, when she knows exactly the potential, the help she’s offering, and how the system itself snatches it away from her over and over and over again.

I left with her card in my pocket, and the promise that they’ll get me in for that screening if I call for one. Now, a year, ten years. They’ll get me in. So. Do I fuck myself over now, or wait until the threat of cancer becomes a reality, and get fucked over then? I started this angry. It’s probably pretty clear when that drained right out into tired. I’m so tired. I want to cry. This was meant to give us a better way forward. This was meant to answer questions, and let us know how worried we should be about our kids. This is such a small thing. This is SUCH A SMALL THING. One test. 36 genes. So many cancers, the breast and the ovarian I’m terrified will come for me next, like so many other of my family’s stellar gifts. What is the point of this, if I’m going to end up punished so severely I might be denied actual care over it?

I think, really, what’s got me fucked up the most is that I should have seen this coming. I should have known better. I should not have been waiting to put down all that anxiety because I was so caught up in ‘I’ll KNOW.’

Fucking fuck.

The middle kid’s waiting to hear back on whether or not the insurance has decided he’s allowed to have fucking braces, and I thought I’d get to just know my risks of getting sick without there being a consequence. Specialists are telling me I should be so very worried about my cancer risks.

Ten years to even see her. And I’m back at square one, with a pcp who’s going to look at me in a few months, sidestep all my questions and go, “I thought you were going to try and lose a few pounds? What happened to weight watchers?”

What happened is, I’m counting points and counting calories and counting fucking steps and not losing weight, because the body doesn’t work like that. I might be teetering on developing a fucking eating disorder instead, but that’s between me and myfitnesspal/weightwatchers. But also: my weight is not the fucking problem. This was such a small thing. If I end up actually with the cancer everyone’s spent so long warning me about, what then? When it’s not such a small thing? What are the consequences for us then? THIS WAS MEANT TO BE A SMALL THING. QUICK. EASY. I’m not even fucking sick! THIS WAS A PREVENTATIVE MEASURE.

American healthcare is violence.

If it’s like this and I’m not even sick, how fucking awful is it for people who ARE?

Vote blue down the ballot, in the hopes that some fucking day our healthcare will actually fucking care.

[blindbeta]

How do you think infrastructure would be different in a culture where everyone is blind?

Hi anon! I like this question. I think it would obviously depend on the culture and time period, but I have a few ideas. I’ll just try to write ideas for a general Western culture, because I am aware of more of that, but obviously the culture itself would influence what changes occurred or did not occur.

Education.

Look to blind schools! I’m thinking about training for Braille as very small children, which mostly includes strengthening finger sensitivity. Braille would also be taught the way reading regular print is, either in schools or at home. Regular print would probably also be available and large print would be normalized, especially to minimize eye strain. Computer literacy would include screen-readers and Braille displays. Websites would be designed for accessibility for everyone and this would include large for those who like to read some print.

In classes, people would use a slate and stylus, Braille notetakers, etc, depending on time and what was easier to carry. Braillers would also be more high tech in general, even if it might be considered old school, or the high tech stuff would have come sooner for each device.

Braille, O&M, and life skills classes would be normal for everyone. O&M would probably be done mostly by people with some sight, although this might change if everyone is blind anyway.

Lifestyle.

Things like telescopes (monoculars, minifiers) would be normal for low vision people, maybe even something cool like ‘oh I got the latest telescope model for my birthday!” It would be something shared with friends for fun. Something like SunuBand would be like, I don’t know, a car of something. People would show status through how cool their cane was, if they had a Sonar cane, like WeWalk, etc.

In schools, and in life, I think people with some sight, like me, would not face any pressure to use it. In real life, people with residual sight are expected to use what sight they can, even if it is inconvenient or painful.

More emphasis would be places on other sense, such as touch, smell, and soatial awareness.

Safety.

The world would probably be safer, structurally. There would be high contrast stairs everywhere, if there are stairs at all. There would be more in place that makes it safer to walk around outside, such as, idk, less of a risk of hurt yourself by stepping off a curb? I’m not even sure if roads would be designed the way they are now. Would people drive if they have some vision? Would everyone have cars that don’t need vision? Anyway, more safety with blind people in mind.

Transportation.

Transportation would be better. Maybe public transportation would be more accessible, easier to navigate, and more readily available in rural areas. Maybe trains would be more popular in every country, because they run on a schedule and you can carry more people for longer periods of time. Trains can also allow people to travel long distances, which can be harder for blind people (who almost always can’t drive, as far as I know) who can’t drive cars and may not have money for flights, or want to avoid them for environmental reasons.

Accessibility.

Braille would be everywhere. Buttons would be tactile, especially on kitchen appliances. I imagine a lot of the tools blind people use in the kitchen, such as bump dots for microwave buttons, would already be standard. Talking or otherwise accessible things would be cheaper, more common, and considered staples for everyone. Because they would be made for the wider population of blind people, accessibility would not be a niche or extra thing. It would not be associated with kindness, but a standard fare.

Clothing would be different. Designs would be tactile and/or high contrast, where they are often flat. I think colors would still be important, for everyone, but the tags would probably have labels. Some brand designed for blind people have actual Braille fabric on the clothes, which is cool. While color scanners do exist and would probably be used, I think other methods would be utilized if clothing is designed with blind people in mind from the start. Wearing glasses would be cool, you guys.

In terms of entertainment, I think most of it would audio-based or interactive. The radio and live theatre would be more popular than they are now. If visual mediums still existed, they would all come with audio descriptions and they would be better than they sometimes are now. TV would be written with audio descriptions in mind, if they didn’t talk about more of what they were doing.

Art would be tactile, period. Maybe we would have something by now that allows you to feel digital art. There are already amazing forms of tactil art out there, so think more of that from all cultures. Rather than adapted or described with the blind in mind, art would be naturally tactile even if the artist could see what they were creating well enough.

Online.

Obviously image descriptions would be everywhere, although I feel people would naturally include less screen-shots and less pictures. Again, accessibility would be a more mainstream thing than it is now. I’m thinking there would be more self-care posts, such as about dealing with eye strain headaches. Although I think some of the issues we have would be lessened when the entirety of humanity was on the blind spectrum. I’m also thinking about fun quizzes like, Describe Your Dream Home and I’ll Guess What Type Blindness You Have. Debates about disability in general would happen in regular spaces. YouTube would have contained audio descriptions from the start, and perhaps highly visual content would be less common or naturally described in the video, such as person describing what they are holding before talking about it.

Work/Career.

Productivity would be measure differently. Accessibility would just be a thing. Like, at a meeting, “What tools do you like to use the most?” Working from home would be an option. Work would be open to and even designed for blind people. Blind people wouldn’t have the low employments rates they do now, or else no one would work. A lot of tools we use to make things accessible wouldn’t be necessary if things were designed for blind people in the first place. Subminimum wage would not be a thing.

There would probably be jobs and career opportunities that don’t exist now.

Blind people wouldn’t be more likely or even expected to live in poverty.

Money.

Money would be tactile, labeled, large print, and high contrast. If we still used cash at all.

Inovation.

I think we would have a lot of cool stuff. Countries might even compete to be the first to create things for the blind population which, again, would be everyone in this scenario.

Food/menus.

Restaurants would be easy for blind people to navigate. Menus would be offered in Braille and large print. Maybe plates would be made sectioned so people could know where their food was. I’m thinking about blind accessibility videos and restaurants run by totally blind people. Hmm. Glasses would not be as common at all, because they can be hard for people to see. I have broken too many glasses myself.

If people were to buy food, such as local produce, bags would probably come with homemade Braille or large print signs. Canned food and boxes for cooking would have Braille on them initially. Giving food to others, such as bringing food or snacks for the home when you visit, would come with either an explanation about what it was or a label.

I could go on. I don’t want this too be too long. Basically, what I want to get across is that a lot more than accessibility would changes if everyone is blind. I didn’t want to get into too many heavy topics because this is more of a fun question. However. feel free to add whatever you like. I believe history itself would be altered in many, many ways that have influence on life today, so I could have gone on about that. I could write books on the lifestyle and safety and work sections. And all cultures have their own ways of viewing, supporting, and limiting blind people, so this could change a little or a lot depending on what your culture or the culture you are writing about is like.

-BlindBeta

[vilevampire]

“Crushing” (One Shot)

Thank you @louyd​ and @the-writer-nerd-ro​ for helping me beta read this <3 This is actually the first fic I wrote for ducktales, so if anything’s kinda weird, that’s probably why.

Rating: Teen and up audiences

Trigger Warnings: Minor injury, hospital

Pairing: Louie Duck x B.O.Y.D

Summary: When Louie first met Boyd, he thought the boy was just an emotionless, cold-hearted machine... ...and then he fell in love with him.

9.833 words

Ao3 Link

"Hi, I'm Boyd, a definitely real boy!"

"Uh... sure you are…"

—————

That exchange was the most of Louie's memories from the first time he had met Boyd. After Doofus Drake's birthday party, the two of them had left off on their own separate ways. And Louie hadn't given the weird robot any second thought... that was, until he met it again. "Louie, meet my friend Boyd!" Huey exclaimed rather enthusiastically. It was clear for anyone to see that he cared a lot about Boyd and wanted him and his brother to get along. Dewey and Webby were currently unavailable, and so Huey thought that Louie was the best remaining candidate for meeting him. "Hi, I'm Boyd, a definitely real boy! We've met each other before!" The child held his hand out, smiling, his voice and movements reproduced identically to the first time they had met. "...I'm Louie, but I think you already know that." Different from last time, however, Louie at least accepted the boy's handshake, just to be polite. Huey stared at their interaction in shock. He thought he had listed all the possible ways this meeting could go, and yet clearly, he had overlooked the possibility that his brother and his new best friend would somehow already know each other. "WAIT, you guys have met each other before?! When? How? Why is this the first time that I'm hearing about this?!" Boyd, his cheerful smile unwavering, promptly answered his friend's question. "We—" "We just happened to bump into each other before, that's all." …Or he would have, if Louie hadn't interrupted him with a shrug. Louie knew his brother well enough to know that he would demand a lengthy explanation of his prior meeting with Boyd and, as it turns out, he really didn't feel like explaining everything that went down at Doofus' birthday party (or talk about the scam that he tried to pull). Knowing enough about Boyd's backstory, Huey didn't buy his brother's explanation, but decided to forget about it for now. As long as they both got along well, he could get all the answers to his questions later on. With a sigh, Huey gave in: "Alright, if you say so…" he said lightly, staring pointedly at Louie with a look that he hoped conveyed a different message:"We'll talk about this later." Louie looked away from his brother's glare to play with his phone. Boyd was still smiling, seemingly oblivious to the wordless exchange happening between the two brothers. Huey cleared up his throat to speak again. "In any case, are you possibly free today, Louie? Me and Boyd were actually planning to hang out together and, if you wanted to, you could come join us! Right, Boyd?" "Yeah! We would love to have you with us, Louie!" Boyd smiled at him, looking brighter than the sun itself. Louie looked up from his phone to stare at his brother and his robot friend absent-mindedly while he contemplated the invitation. It had already been quite a while since Louie had been able to hang out with his family without getting involved in magical hijinks, and, as much as Louie would never admit it out loud, he kind of missed spending quality time with his family every now and then. Subconsciously, the young duck's gaze lingered slightly longer on Boyd. He thought that, at the very least, there would be no way he would get bored if he was going to be hanging out with a robot. Louie plastered on his signature lazy smile before replying, "Yeah sure, why not? I'm bored anyway." Both Huey and Boyd were visibly excited by this response and soon the three of them revised their plans for the day to include Louie. Before this, Louie hadn't actually realized robots even could become visibly excited. He thought maybe the thing was programmed to match the emotions displayed by the people closest to it? Either way, it was fine by him, as long as he didn't end up bored out of his skull hanging with Huey and his new friend. Huey and Boyd's plans for the day ended up consisting of a picnic in the park. Louie wasn't one to turn down free food, so he was alright with these plans, if only for the opportunity to kill some time. "Try not to eat all the food when we get there." His brother lightly teased while packing things up. Louie's only response was to nod with a serious expression. As he watched Huey and Boyd work efficiently together to pack up everything they would need, he noticed how alike the two of them were. They worked perfectly in sync to get everything in order. The duck frowned slightly at the thought. He didn't like that his brother's new best friend was some cold-hearted machine. Sure, he might joke around saying that Huey was robot-like, but he didn't mean it like that. He decided to keep an eye on it to make sure nothing would happen to his older brother. Soon enough, the three of them left off for their picnic.

—————

Boyd set up their picnic in a nice spot by a tree's shadow while Huey babbled on about the things they had seen during their trip to Japan. Louie seemed to be only half-listening while playing on his phone.

"...You should have seen the Sakura trees! The food was great too. I think you would have really liked it there. You should come with us next time." "Mhm." Louie nodded inattentively. Huey was satisfied enough with that answer.

He knew that despite his brother's laid-back demeanor, he was still paying attention to his story. Louie was much smarter than he acted and he would never pass up the opportunity to learn about something he could possibly use to his advantage later on.

"The picnic is ready!" Boyd called them over once he finished laying down the food over the picnic towel. Louie put his phone down for the first time since they left home.

Sandwiches, pastries, pies, and desserts laid neatly arranged on plates next to a jar of orange juice, plastic cups, and a can of Pep that they brought just for Louie. They sat together in a triangle around the food and beverages and they each picked up something to eat… including Boyd.

Louie gawked as the android took a bite out of his sandwich in delight.

"Robots can EAT?! " He exclaimed, completely taken aback.

Boyd quickly swallowed up his food to reply: "Yeah! I even asked my dad to add a taste buds function, so I can even taste the food, just like you guys!" He said, looking like the happiest kid in the world.

Louie quickly glanced from Boyd to Huey, silently asking: "Dad?"

"He means Dr. Gearloose." Huey explained.

"But… do robots even need to eat?" Louie questioned again, looking over at Boyd.

"We do not, but I still enjoy it!" The boy cheerfully clarified.

"But then… isn't that just a waste of food?"

Just for a moment, Louie thought he had seen Boyd's smile falter. As soon as he blinked again, however, the other boy's expression had already returned to his usual one.

"Louie! " Huey snapped, ready to give him a scolding.

"No, Huey, it's okay." Boyd put his hand on Huey's shoulder. "He has a point."

"But…!" Huey looked over to Boyd, putting his hand over his friend's. He was hurt and upset over Louie's remark.

"See Hue? He said it himself that I have a point. He agrees with me." Louie casually gestured towards Boyd, right before taking a bite out of a flaky pastry.

"Louie! I can't believe you…" Huey looked ready to get up from his spot, but Boyd held him down.

"It's okay Huey, I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it." Boyd comforted his friend with a few pats on the back.

Huey scoffed. "I'm not so sure about that." He shot Louie one last glance before sighing and moving his attention back to the food.

With no more words, Louie quickly finished his meal, suddenly feeling annoyed. He grabbed the nearest can of Pep and got up. "I'm going home." he turned around and walked away.

—————

By the time he got back to the manor, Dewey and Webby had just returned from whatever adventure they had gone off to earlier.

The two of them had their clothes dirty and torn in a few places, and it looked like the top of Dewey's hair was a little charred.

"Louie! Oh my gosh, you'll never believe what we just went through. We—" Dewey started talking excitedly, gesticulating all the while.

"Wait." Webby quickly interrupted him, putting her hand over his beak. "Louie, what's wrong?"

Once she said that, Dewey gave a better look at his brother and noticed his expression.

Normally, Louie would have no problem keeping up a good poker face. He could even brag and say he was much better at lying than other people twice his age. But it seemed like he wasn't expecting to find his siblings here, for his face wore an annoyed expression instead of his usual lazy one.

He quickly fixed his expression, however, lying through his teeth: "Oh, it's nothing. Just that my Pep got warm, that's all," he said smoothly, holding up the opened can.

"Mhmm… right…" Webby eyed him suspiciously. The girl might be naive at times, but she certainly wasn't stupid. After spending so much time with her brothers, she had learned to recognize when something was bothering them. "And where's Huey?"

"He's busy having lunch with his new robot." Louie rolled his eyes.

"Huey's got a robot?  Like, just for him?! Dude!" Dewey exclaimed in disbelief, right before running off to beg Uncle Scrooge and Dr. Gearloose to give him his own robot.

As for Webby, while her eyes sparkled at the mention of a robot, she was still suspicious. She felt like something was off with Louie, but he wasn't willing to share what it was. That certainly didn't surprise her, as Louie was always like this, but it was still frustrating not knowing who or what might have hurt her brother.

Eventually, though, she decided to let it go. Another thing Webby had learned after spending more time with her newest family was to not pry into other people's privacy. Her loved ones were more than competent enough to take care of their own problems most of the time. Not every single situation needed her help.

Besides, Louie was very good at keeping his secrets to himself when he really wanted to.

"Alright, if you say so… but you should know that if you ever need anything, I'm here to help you out!" Webby said, wearing a gentle smile.

Louie let his poker face fall, looking at his sister with a warm gaze.

"...Thanks, Webs." He meant it.

"No problem! That's what family is for!" She beamed, inching closer to grab him into a hug, before quickly realizing she still looked like a mess. "Oops. Guess I should go wash myself first."

"...Yeah, you should probably go do that." Louie smiled, taking a step back to make sure none of the dirt touched his immaculate green hoodie.

"Alright, we'll talk more later! YOU OWE ME A HUG!" And with that, the girl ran off.

As soon as Webby left the room, Louie's face fell, a broody expression appearing once again. With low shoulders, he stalked directly to his room for an afternoon nap.

While browsing on his phone trying his best to fall asleep, he couldn't stop wondering why his chest suddenly felt so heavy.

—————

Over the course of the next day, Huey made a real effort to avoid Louie, who was all too happy to pretend that nothing ever happened. 

Of course, the rest of the family immediately realized something was up, but Huey refused to talk about it, simply stating "He knows what he did" when asked. Louie denied anything ever happened in the first place.

Eventually, enough was enough though and Louie figured it might not be the end of the world to apologize.

The next day, Louie woke up earlier than usual to greet Huey in the kitchen.

"Good morning, Hue." Louie said with a yawn.

Huey looked at him suspiciously while Louie sat down nearby. His brother was normally the last to wake in the family.

Louie sighed before he spoke. "Listen, I'm sorry for the way I treated your friend at the park. I didn't mean it, okay?"

Huey blinked at him, processing his brother's words.

"Are you being honest?"

"Of course I am! I swear on all my money that I'm telling you the truth." Louie put one hand by his chest and held the other up in the air.

Huey visibly relaxed upon hearing that. Before saying anything else, he finished cooking breakfast, handing Louie a plate with eggs, bacon, a fork and a knife.

"Okay then. If you're really sorry, you should apologize to Boyd too." Huey stated while taking his seat with his own breakfast in hands.

Louie froze grabbing his fork. "Is that really necessary?"

Huey looked at him in disbelief. "What do you mean? He was the one whose feelings you hurt in the first place. Of course you should apologize to him!"

"Of course, of course, it's just… what I meant to say is just that, uhm… can robots even feel anything?"

If Huey already looked surprised before, he certainly looked shocked now, with a little bit of anger seeping through.

"Boyd is not just a machine. He's a person, just like you and me."

Louie stared at him in confusion. "Is he, though? I thought I heard you say just the other day that he can fly and shoot laser beams from his eyes? I'm not sure about you Huey, but I certainly can't do that."

As much as it hurt to hear that, Huey tried to muster the willpower to not get mad at his brother. Louie simply didn't understand that despite not being human, Boyd was still his own person with his own thoughts and feelings.

He was ignorant, and ignorance was no sin, as long as one was willing to learn.

Huey stayed quiet for a while, focusing only on his food, long enough to make Louie start feeling anxious, until he finally replied:

"Alright Lou, I get where you're coming from." "You do? " "I do." He nodded. "And that's why I want you to spend more time with Boyd." Louie looked at him, confused. Why would he want him to spend more time with the robot?

Huey sighed once he saw the look on his brother's face. "I think the easiest way to make you understand how much more Boyd is than ‘just a robot' would be if you spent some more time with him." Huey put his fork down once he had finished eating. "Until then, I'm not willing to fully forgive you yet."

Louie thought about this. This… Wasn't this situation perfect, actually? By spending time alone with Boyd, he could get the robot's help in pulling one of his schemes without his brothers getting involved!

Louie smiled sweetly at his brother.

"I'll do it." "Really? I mean... of course you will. I'll call Boyd over some other time so you two can hang out together, alright?" "Fine by me, dear Hubert."

—————

"Boyd, have you ever gone to Funso's?" "Nope! Huey told me about it though. He said it's an amazing, magical place!" "Well, let's go there then."

Boyd gasped. "Really?! You'll take me there? Yay!" The parrot started hopping around while moving his arms up and down. He seemed very excited.

Watching this, an abnormal thought crossed Louie's mind. This thing… wasn't it kind of cute?  Especially when it looked at him with such a joyous expression like that...

Louie shook his head, shooing away those thoughts. In the end, Boyd was still a robot. A cold-hearted machine incapable of thinking and feeling like normal people. He shouldn't let himself get carried away.

"Yeah, I'll take you to Funso's. Let's go." He said while walking away.

"Yeah! Okay!" Boyd gladly followed suit.

 —————

At Funso's, Louie wasn't interested in ordering the usual or trying to teach Boyd the many uses of flattery. Instead, he chose Funso's because, with a literal machine by his side, they could easily beat all of the top scores in the games and get tons of tickets!

It was a rather simple "scheme" considering the things Boyd was capable of accomplishing, but he thought it might be best to test the waters first before jumping right into an elaborate scheme that might backfire on him.

At his side, Boyd wouldn't stop gasping and pointing at different things, seemingly entranced by everything he could see. "Oh, is that…?! What is that, Louie?!" Boyd shook Louie's shoulders.

"That's the ball pit." "Is it dangerous? Is it okay to touch it?" Louie shrugged: "Probably not dangerous. And yeah, you can touch it." "Really?! Thank you!" Boyd was all smiles as he made his way over to the ball pit.

Time went by like that, with Boyd asking Louie about each thing before trying it out. At some point, he realized Boyd started pulling on his sleeves while walking around together. He found that curious, but since it didn't bother him, he chose to stay quiet about it.

Eventually, Louie directed Boyd's attention to the Skee Ball table, encouraging him to try it out, only to be disappointed by his performance.

"This is so much fun!" Boyd said happily while grabbing the tickets that were ejected from the machine. "Mhm…" Louie grunted, not looking nearly as happy as Boyd.

How could he word this… the robot's aim and reflexes weren't bad by any means, but… well, he was average. Not too bad, but not outstanding either. He was as good as any other person around their age.

"Are you having fun too, Louie?" "Huh? Oh, yeah. Totally. I'm having lots of fun." Louie snapped back to reality at the sudden question. "Are you sure? You don't look like you're having fun. You haven't even played any of the games. So far you've only been letting me try them." Boyd looked at him with what looked like genuine concern, handing over all the tickets he got. "Yeah yeah, it's all good as long as you're having fun." Louie grabbed the tickets, sticking them in his pockets.

Boyd suddenly stopped what he was doing to look at the duck standing right in front of him. "Louie…" His voice trembled with emotion. It sounded extremely real. "Thank you." Boyd offered him a sweet smile.

Louie suddenly felt a sting in his heart. He made a sour face.

"Uhmm… Louie? Did I say something wrong?" Boyd asked apprehensively. "Huh? It's nothing." "Hmm… okay then." Boyd breathed out in relief.

Before they left Funso's, Louie made sure to make Boyd try out the video games as well, to see if he might fare off better.

Alas, he obtained no substantial results.

With a disappointed sigh, he let Boyd have all the tickets for himself and choose whatever he wanted from the ticket shop.

Upon hearing that, Boyd looked happy enough to cry. While jumping up and down, he chose his souvenirs from the shop.

"...?" Louie was surprised when his phone screen suddenly became obstructed by the sight of a gray parrot plushie.

"Here, for you! I bought one for myself too." Boyd excitedly showed him the plushie of a white duck while handing over the parrot plush.

 "Oh… thanks." Louie picked up the plushie and put it in his pockets. Boyd giggled happily. "No problem!"

Boyd bought a few other souvenirs that were handed over to him in a plastic bag before turning to Louie. "Where do you want to go next, Louie?" "Uhh... actually, I think I'm gonna go home."

Louie expected Boyd to become disappointed after he said that, but instead the boy simply nodded. "Alright! I'll walk you home."

 —————

 "So... how did it go?" Huey paced back and forth in their room. "How did what go?" Louie tried playing dumb.

Huey decided to ignore that.

"Did you apologize to him?"

Right as he was about to place his new plushie on top of his bed, Louie stopped. Suddenly, he dropped the plushie and brought both of his hands to his face.

"I didn't." He said quietly. "What was that?" "I FORGOT TO APOLOGIZE TO HI— OW! " Louie cursed out loud, right before getting hit by an incoming pillow thrown by Dewey from the top of his bed.

"Keep it quiet down there! Some of us are trying to fall asleep over here. And by some of us, I mean me." He huffed.

"...Sorry." Louie said.

More quietly this time, Louie told Huey everything that happened.

Huey simply shook his head in disappointment. "Let me guess, you brought him to Funso's thinking he would break all the records and top scores?" "Weellll… maybe I DID, maybe I DIDN'T, y'know? Who's to say what I did or didn't think about at the time?" "So you did." Huey sighed. "Louie, I told you, he's not—" "Yeah, yeah, whatever." Louie quickly cut him off with a huff, much to Huey's annoyance.

Huey gave a long sigh. "At the very least, please apologize to him."

In response, Louie just mumbled something quietly as he crawled onto his bed.

He didn't really want to see the robot again, but it seemed like he would have no other choice.

 —————

 The next time he would see Boyd be one week later.

Apparently, there were two Junior Woodchuck badges that Huey was going to help Boyd with, one for camping for a whole week and another one for teaching others how to camp.

Although his siblings already knew the basics of camping, he still invited them, if not just to introduce them to Boyd.

Louie hated doing any sort of work though so he was mostly just there to apologize to Boyd.

"Hello again Louie!" Boyd waved at him as he walked closer to the duck. They were already at their planned camping spot and the sky was only beginning to turn dark. "How are you?"

"...Hey." Louie didn't spare him a single glance from his phone. "I'm good." He didn't ask how Boyd was doing either, but the other didn't seem to mind. "That's good!" Boyd simply smiled at him before going off to meet Webby and Dewey.

The three of them immediately got along and Boyd soon saw himself being flooded with inquiries about robotics and mechas, to which he answered each and every single one.

"Can you fly? Can you shoot laser beams from your eyes? Do you have super strength? What about super speed? Can you teleport? Do you have icy cold breath? Are your hands and feet detachable? Can you read my mind? What number am I thinking of right now?" Dewey babbled on. "Dewey! Can't you see Boyd is a kid just like us? Why would he be able to do all that?" Webby scolded him.

Boyd chuckled. "Actually, yes to the first three questions, no to the rest, and I'm going to guess that the number you are thinking of right now is a four." "AHA! So you CAN read my mind!" Dewey exclaimed.

Their conversation continued peacefully like that, with Boyd even giving a short display of his flying abilities, until Huey finally called out to them.

"Hey guys! I finished writing my daily journal entry, so let's get started with some camping!"

They all cheered excitedly, except for Louie, who was only half-listening.

"Now, first we're going to set up our tents, so let's get started! Dewey, Webby, please come over here. Boyd, why don't you go help Louie out?"

Louie raised his head at the mention of his name only to see a delighted Boyd walking over to him. He didn't even have to look at his brother's face to realize that he was trying to set up a situation where he could apologize to Boyd privately.

Louie, instead, pretended not to see him and simply continued scrolling through his phone. 

"Hey Louie!" Boyd quickly caught up to him. Huey asked me to help teach you how to set up your tent!" "Mhm." Louie still didn't look up from his phone.

It's not like he didn't know to set up a tent, okay? It's just that, why would he spend the time and energy doing all the work when he could convince others to do it for him?

Noticing the duck's absent mind, Boyd became interested in what could possibly be distracting him. "What are you looking at?" Boyd moved closer until his face was almost touching Louie's and he could clearly see the contents on the phone screen.

Startled, Louie quickly turned off his phone. He was very uncomfortable when people he didn't know well enough invaded his personal space, and his siblings certainly knew about that, but Boyd did not.

In his panic, he started falling backwards from the log he was sitting on.

Boyd quickly noticed it and grabbed him by the waist, holding his back upright.

"Are you alright, Louie?" He asked with a guilty expression. "I'm sorry if I startled you." "That's not the problem." Louie glared at him, clearly upset. "You're in my personal space!"

Boyd quietly gasped. He hadn't realized it before, but it was obvious to him now how rude he had been. "I'm so sorry! I—" He quickly let go of Louie's waist, only for the duck to completely fall backwards with a thud.

"Ow…" Louie mumbled. "Louie! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to—" "Just leave me alone." He cut him off.

It had technically been Louie's fault for not adjusting back to his previous position once Boyd caught him, but he wasn't willing to admit it, and he would continue to be unreasonably upset at the robot over it.

Boyd gulped. He thought he had seriously messed up. "I'm… sorry. I'll leave you alone now."

 —————

 "Boyd, have you seen Louie anywhere?"

After their conflict, Boyd decided to focus on setting up his own tent and gathering the materials necessary for the campfire. Huey, Dewey and Webby had already finished setting up their own tents as well, so the only tent left in their campsite that was still on the ground was Louie's.

Once Huey said that, Boyd started to look around.

Louie was nowhere to be seen.

He noticed a trail leaving their campsite going deep into the forest.

"I think he went into the forest." Boyd told Huey his findings.

Huey frowned. Louie wasn't the type to go on random walks without telling anybody beforehand unless he was upset. "Do you know if anything happened to Louie while he was here? Did he seem like there was something bothering him?" Boyd's expression immediately became guilty as he lowered his shoulders. "I… I think I made him mad."

He told his friend about what happened between them, to which Huey's reaction was only to click his tongue. He couldn't believe his brother could be so selfish.

Louie might be lazy, stubborn and far too scheming for his own good, but he wasn't heartless by any means.

"First of all, we should go look for him before he puts himself in trouble." Huey shook his head. "And then, he urgently needs to apologize to you."

 —————

 After a brief discussion, they decided to leave Dewey and Huey taking care of the campsite while Webby, who had night vision goggles, and Boyd, who had natural night  AND  heat vision, would go looking for Louie.

They had to walk quite a bit before Boyd's sensors started picking up on something. Suddenly, he stopped walking, turning his head abruptly in one direction. The boy's expression became visibly uneasy.

Webby noticed the boy's unrest and asked: "What's wrong, Boyd? Did you hear anything?" "I think Louie is in danger! Please, try to follow me." Sensing something was up, Boyd fastened his pace to an inhuman speed.

Only someone as capable as Webby would be able to keep up with Boyd's movements. She jumped over rocks, logs and bushes as fast as she could, but the distance between them still grew wider and wider.

They soon started to notice the tracks of a large wild animal, along with small droplets of blood scattered around. Boyd quickened his pace even further.

Eventually, they reached their destination. It was the top of a relatively small cliff, with only rocks, trees and foliage near the bottom.

Webby looked around, puffing from exhaustion. "Where's Louie...?"

Boyd looked behind him, feeling even more guilty. He would have had no trouble carrying Webby on their way to the cliff, but he hadn't thought of doing so at the time.

"I think he's at the bottom of the cliff. He's still alive, but…" The usually cheerful boy made a serious expression that did not fit him in the slightest. "I'm going to have to go there alone. If I carried you down, I wouldn't be able to bring both of you back up at once."

‘Plus, I think he might be injured…' is the part Boyd avoided saying. He didn't want to worry Webby any further.

The girl nodded. She had already deduced that the tracks they had seen earlier had likely been made by an adult grizzly bear and, although they were able to climb trees, she had the means to keep herself safe from it as long as she stayed on higher ground.

"Please… take care of my brother." "Don't worry." He nodded. "I'll bring him back safe and sound."

Boyd walked over to the edge of the cliff before taking flight.

 —————

 Louie Duck was known to be the lazy Duck brother.

The evil triplet.

People thought he was greedy, money-loving, manipulative and egotistical.

He was fine with that.

In fact, he embraced it.

It was convenient for him.

People expected less of him because of it.

Yep. He was fine with that.

Louie hugged himself tightly.

He kept repeating those words in his mind, desperately trying to convince himself.

He currently looked dirty and disheveled, his green hoodie was full of tatters, his phone was broken and blood oozed out from several cuts.

But worst of all, he had broken one of his legs in the fall.

He rested his head on the knee of his other leg as he sobbed quietly. So quietly that no one would be able to hear him, unless they were sitting right next to him.

Or unless they were a robot, of course.

"Louie?" Boyd called out to him hesitantly. He found Louie hidden in a small, humid cave that he seemingly crawled himself into.

Louie's shoulders shook. He tried to wipe up the tears from his face, but failed. No matter what, they wouldn't stop flowing.

Boyd slowly walked closer to him.

"Louie, are you—" He stopped himself. What was he supposed to ask? 'Are you okay?' 'Are you crying?' Either way, the answer was obvious just from a glance.

Boyd silently cursed himself for not bringing a first aid kit. In the first place, it was his fault Louie had gotten injured. He was the one who made him mad, he was supposed to keep an eye on him, he should have been there to protect him, it was all his fault, he—

"I'm sorry," Louie said with a hiccup. "I'm sorry". "What are you sorry for? It's my fault, I—" "No. You're wrong. It's my fault." He hugged himself even tighter, grabbing at his sleeves. "I had no reason to be mad at you, I just… I'm a horrible person, I—" He paused for a while, before whispering almost inaudibly: "I always mess up…"

Boyd watched the boy sob in front of him without knowing what to do. They weren't that close, he didn't know what to say to make him feel better.

But still, he was going to try.

He walked up to Louie and sat down by his side.

Slowly, he grabbed one of Louie's hands. When the duck didn't react, Boyd opened his mouth to speak:

"You're not a horrible person." He squeezed the other's hand slightly. "Louie, you're just a kid. It's okay to make mistakes sometimes. Everyone does."

He paused for a moment before continuing: "And, y'know, realizing your mistakes is the first step to becoming a better person."

Gently, Boyd pulled Louie into a hug.

"You're not a horrible person. I like you, Louie. I think you're fine the way you are."

At first, Louie didn't show any reaction. Gradually, he started to sob louder, until his weeping echoed all throughout the cave. He hugged Boyd back, tightly enough to make any other person run out of breath.

Boyd pat his back reassuringly. "It's okay. You're not a bad person. I like you very much, Louie. There's nothing wrong with you."

Boyd kept on incessantly tranquilizing Louie until the boy's crying eventually died down.

While carrying Louie in his arms, Boyd flew back up to the top of the cliff. Along with Webby, they returned to their campsite with no other major incidents happening.

Unfortunately, their camping plans had to be cancelled due to Louie's injury.

 —————

 "Good morning, Louie!" Louie turned off his phone to look up at Boyd, who was joyfully walking inside his hospital room. "How are you feeling today?"

Louie smiled back at him.

"I'm doing better, actually. They said they're going to let me off soon."

"Really?! That's great."

Boyd had been visiting him daily ever since he had been admitted to the hospital, sometimes along with his family, sometimes on his own. The boy would bring a different gift with each visit, usually flowers or candy bars. Today, it seemed like he had brought something different for him, however.

"Look! I brought you a friend." Boyd handed over to him a white duck plushie, the very same one Boyd acquired at Funso's. "Do you still have the other one I gave you?" "Ah… yeah, I think so. It should be somewhere in my room."

Boyd became even happier upon hearing that. "Really? You didn't lose it or throw it away?" He said while taking his seat right by Louie's side. "Huey told me that you lose your things all the time."

Louie made a bitter face as he mumbled: "Huey …"

Boyd chuckled softly. The innocent sound made Louie turn his head.

How could a machine look so... genuine?

He stared at the robot in front of him, taking in every detail, but he still wasn't able to spot a single expression or mannerism that looked faked, robotic or out of place.

He noticed the way Boyd breathed in and out, how he blinked sporadically, his soft-looking plumage, the wrinkles that were naturally a result of his smile, the slight redness spread across his cheeks… At some point, when does it stop being 'just a machine', and start to become a real person?

"Hello? Louie?" Boyd waved his hands right in front of him. "Hm? Oh." He just realized he had been staring at Boyd for quite a while now. His face quickly became tinted with red. "Sorry. I spaced out." Boyd smiled at him reassuringly. "It's okay, no need to worry about it."

Louie's only response was a small nod. He started to wonder if Boyd was even capable of becoming angry at someone.

"Hey, Boyd?" "Yes?"

Louie avoided eye contact as he began saying: "I'm sorry about earlier... I mean like, way earlier. Back at the park I… was really insensitive to you." He sighed before continuing, this time staring right at Boyd. "Back when we first met I thought you didn't have any feelings, that you were just a heartless machine… now I realize that wasn't true. I'm really sorry."

At the end of his speech, he looked downwards, quietly playing with his hands. Boyd stared at him for a while, before slowly placing his hands over Louie's and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"It's okay." He smiled at him, this time not dazzling like the sun, but instead softly and gently, much like a blossoming flower. "I know you're not a bad person. I forgive you."

Louie bit his lip to stop himself from shedding any tears. Instead, he only grabbed Boyd's hands and squeezed them back, continuing to look downwards.

For a while, they stayed just like that, stuck in a silence that was not at all awkward.

"Hey," Louie suddenly spoke up, retracting his hands. "You should give me your phone number."

In the spur of the moment, he had decided there would be no disadvantages in trying to get closer to Boyd.

Or at least, that's how Louie liked to think about it. The truth was that he simply wanted to grow closer to Boyd.

"Okay!" Much to his relief, the other readily agreed. "Cool. I'll message you once I get out of the hospital." "Okay. I'll be waiting."

 —————

 handsome_duck: hey. is this boyds number? louie here B.O.Y.D: Hello Louie!! This is Boyd! ヾ(☆▽☆) How are you? Have you been discharged from the hospital yet? handsome_duck: yeah. im doing fine now B.O.Y.D: That's great! ☆*:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:*☆ I'm glad you're feeling better. (o˘◡˘o) handsome_duck: yea handsome_duck: thx for coming to visit handsome_duck: ur rlly nice handsome_duck: and it was way less lonely B.O.Y.D: No problem! I simply worried about your well-being. And you're very nice too! (＾▽＾)

Louie sighed as he put his phone away. His heart started feeling much lighter after he had properly apologized to Boyd.

His phone buzzed when he got sent another message.

B.O.Y.D: By the way, I love your username! ヽ(>∀<☆)ノ

Louie chuckled before he replied:

handsome_duck: thx handsome_duck: urs too B.O.Y.D: o(≧▽≦)o Thank you!

Louie quickly pondered before adding:

handsome_duck: hey handsome_duck: do u want 2 hang out again next week? handsome_duck: i wanna make it up to u handsome_duck: yk.. for being rude to u n stuff..  B.O.Y.D: w(°ｏ°)w  B.O.Y.D: (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ I'd love to, Louie! (*´▽`*) handsome_duck: cool handsome_duck: how do u feel abt watching a movie? B.O.Y.D: Fine by me! (＠＾◡＾) What movie are we going to watch? handsome_duck: idk yet handsome_duck: i'll figure it out handsome_duck: and i'll msg u l8r B.O.Y.D: Okay. ( ´ ω ` )

 —————

 A few days later, Louie put on his best-looking green hoodie (they're all identical) and went to the manor's entrance hall to meet Boyd… but not before getting pulled back by Huey.

"Here, I made you a list of all the possible activities you two could do together!" He said, handing Louie a list that looked like it contained over 200+ items.

"...Thanks." Louie put the paper in his pocket without thinking too much about it.

"You got this!" Huey said supportingly, patting his brother's shoulder. Even Dewey and Webby seemingly popped out of nowhere to give him a thumbs up and words of encouragement.

...Why were his siblings acting strangely around him? Well, whatever. Louie just rolled his eyes and walked away.

Right before he left the room, Webby exclaimed: "GOOD LUCK ON YOUR DATE!!! " And his two brothers burst out into giggles.

Louie mustered all of the willpower he had to not look back and simply continued on walking, trying to ignore the heat now going up through his face.

At the entrance hall, Boyd was already waiting for him, sitting on a couch while looking around, seemingly captivated by everything he could see. As soon as he noticed Louie had entered the room, the boy jumped out of the couch and waved with a bright smile.

"Hello again Louie! How are you?" Boyd moved closer to the duck. "Hey. I'm doing fine… and I'm assuming you're doing good as well?" Louie gave the robot a good look-over.

"Yep! But…" Boyd moved even closer to him, reaching out his hand to touch the other's forehead. "Are you sure you're fine? You seem a little red, and my heat sensors are detecting slightly unusual levels of heat coming from you."

Louie quickly stepped away from Boyd's hand and insisted: "I'm fine, seriously." "Hm… if you say so."

Louie brushed it off with a wave of his hand. "Nevermind that, are you ready to go?" "Yeah! Let's go!" Boyd nodded.

They started walking side by side, away from the mansion. Louie couldn't help but notice that Boyd's walking rhythm matched his perfectly. Did he do it on purpose?

"What movie did you choose for us to watch, Louie?" Boyd hopped around cheerfully. "You'll see." Louie smiled at him.

Over the past week, Louie had been occasionally exchanging messages with Boyd and he had found out much about the robot's day-to-day life. He learned about how much he loves his father and creator, Dr. Gearloose, as well as his other parents and caretakers, the Drakes. He heard about Doofus' many struggles since he lost half of his inheritance to Boyd, as well as Boyd's incessant efforts to comfort him. Doofus would make the utmost effort to push him away most of the time, but recently he's been letting himself show more of his vulnerable side around his family, much to Boyd's delight.

In return, Louie would tell Boyd about all the exciting adventures he and his family went off to (many of which Huey had already shared before), as well as his brother's embarrassing secrets.

They had even FaceTime'd once. Louie found out that it was surprisingly easy to make Boyd laugh. In response to every single one of Louie's jokes, the robot would put his hands over his face and giggle happily.

Louie thought it was adorable, though he would rather die than admit that out loud.

That's why today Louie had picked a movie he thought Boyd would like, instead of one he would enjoy. The movie was a dramatic coming-of-age story that questioned things such as humanity, love and the meaning of life. He even managed to get front-row seats for both of them.

They bought a big bowl of popcorn to share with one another (Louie also sneaked in candy bars and two cans of Pep for them), took their seats and waited for the movie to begin.

Louie picked this movie already knowing he wouldn't like it, so it wasn't like he was disappointed or anything, but still, it was extremely boring. He usually preferred comedy films with smart plots and snarky writing. This melodrama stuff… just wasn't his cup of tea.

Looking forward to distracting himself from the movie, Louie moved his attention over to Boyd. Thankfully, he seemed to be enjoying the film much more than himself.

Boyd could be seen constantly jumping up from his seat, gasping at every revelation, be it big or small, laughing and sometimes even crying along to the movie's plot. He always with his eyes wide open and completely glued to the movie screen, only stopping occasionally to throw some popcorn in his mouth. He became so entranced by the movie that, at first, he didn't even notice Louie staring directly at him… until he decided to look over to the side.

For how long had Louie been staring at Boyd now? 15 minutes? 30 minutes? a whole hour maybe? He didn't know, but he still flushed furiously once he noticed Boyd looking back at him.

"Umm… I didn't know you... uh... I didn't know you had a crying function." Louie coughed awkwardly.

Boyd blinked, and then chuckled softly. At this point, Louie felt so flustered now that he pulled up his hoodie in an attempt to hide his face.

"Dad only added this function recently, actually." "Ahh… is that so?" "It is!" Boyd smiled sweetly at him before quickly turning his attention back to the movie while bouncing his legs back and forth.

...Why did Louie suddenly feel like there was a knot in his stomach?

 —————

 Once the movie was over, Boyd dragged Louie out of the movie theater by holding on to his sleeves.

"Oh my gosh, that was so good! So many parts had me at the edge of my seat, and the ending was so heartwarming." Boyd sighed happily while hopping around. "How did you like the movie, Louie?" "It was good." He lied without a single ounce of shame. "Hehe." Boyd giggled. "I'm glad you thought so too."

Before either of them realized it, Boyd's hand slid off Louie's sleeve to grab the duck's hand instead.

For Boyd, this wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Not only had he held Louie's hands before, he also held other people's hands all the time. He held Dr. Gearloose's hands, he held hands with Dr. Crackshell-Cabrera, with Ms. and Mr. Drake, with his brothers Doofus and Lil' Bulb, and even with Huey sometimes.

Boyd holding hands with Louie simply meant that he considered their relationship to already be close enough for him to do so.

For Louie, however, it was a different story. Just because he was okay with holding hands privately during his rare displays of vulnerability, that didn't necessarily mean that he was okay with doing it in public. He remembered holding hands publicly with his Uncle Donald very often growing up, but less so nowadays. He was fine with holding hands with his siblings sometimes as well, but they would always do so privately.

So when Louie suddenly felt Boyd's hand reach for his, he stopped dead in his tracks, unsure of how to react.

Boyd was quick to notice Louie's unrest and he immediately retracted his hand.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I should have asked first." Boyd bit down on his beak anxiously. "I'll just..." He swiftly tried to move his hand away, but found that he couldn't. He looked down to see Louie silently tugging on his wrist.

For a while, neither of them said anything. Boyd was waiting for Louie to speak, and Louie, for the first time in forever, was at a loss for words.

What was he feeling right now? What did those warm, bubbling sensations in his chest mean?

He didn't know.

He had no experience with such things.

He tried to think about it rationally.

Did holding hands with Boyd feel bad? No, not really…

Did holding hands with Boyd feel good?

…

He didn't know.

He really didn't know, but…

Subconsciously, he squeezed Boyd's wrist slightly, which didn't go unnoticed by the android.

Very quietly, as if he were forcing the words out, he whispered: "It's okay."

Boyd's face visibly brightened as he inched back closer to his friend. "Really?" He asked with a spirited look.

Louie gave a weak nod and that was more than enough confirmation for Boyd, who went back to being all smiles. He intertwined his hand with Louie's, who squeezed Boyd's hand in response.

Strangely, Boyd felt happier than he usually felt when he held hands with other people. He didn't quite get it, but it was fine by him as long as he could keep holding Louie's hand like this.

As for Louie… he decided that he was okay with it, under only one condition: "Please keep this a secret from my family." He mumbled. "No problem Lou!" Boyd gave him a thumbs up. Louie spared him a glance at the mention of the nickname, but didn't say anything.

He actually felt quite comfortable like this.

Boyd walked Louie home.

By the time the two of them reached the outside of the mansion, the sky was already starting to turn dark. It seemed like Louie had lost track of time while hanging out with Boyd.

"Louie." Boyd called his name shyly. "Hm?" Louie looked over from his phone to look at the robot by his side.

Boyd walked up to his front before saying: "Thank you for hanging out with me today. I always have fun spending time with you."

Before Louie could respond with "Yeah, sure, no problem.", he was astonished.

Boyd pulled him in for a tight hug.

 However, after only a second, Boyd had already moved away.

"Bye now!" And, just like that, without giving Louie the time to process anything, the android flew away.

"...What in the world just happened?" he murmured to himself.

For the rest of the day, three specific thoughts plagued his mind: 1. He had forgotten Boyd could fly. 2. The robot's body was much warmer than he expected when snuggled up against his own. 3. Before Boyd flew away, he could have sworn that he saw Boyd's face turn red.

 —————

 A few days later, very early in the morning, Louie felt someone gently shake him awake. "Psst, Louie." The duck rolled around in his bed. "Louie, wake up you sleepy head." Boyd gently whispered to him. "Unhgnh… only five more minutes please…" Boyd chuckled softly. "We don't have five more minutes, silly. Wake up!"

Slowly, Louie eventually opened his eyes. "Boyd...? How did you…?" Boyd put one hand over Louie's bill while he used his free hand to point at Huey and Dewey who were still asleep in their own beds.

Gently, Boyd turned Louie's head to face directly at the room's window, which was currently opened.

Louie did not feel very safe knowing that his room had apparently no extra magical security against break-ins, but this wasn't the time to think about that.

Tugging Louie along, Boyd held Louie close to him with one of his arms while he took flight.

The android was obviously much stronger than he looked, for he could take care of stabilizing himself mid-air even with Louie's weight easily.

The two of them did not share many words between them. Louie because he was still sleepy and honestly a little afraid of heights, and Boyd because he thought the view he was about to show him would speak for itself.

Soon enough, they reached a tall, grassy place with a perfect view of the city below and the sea to another side.

The calm ocean waves licked the sand beach, glimmering in shades of pink and yellow as the sun peeked from over the corner. Duckburg looked grand and imposing, with individual colored lights shining brightly all the way across the city.

"Oh, wow." Louie mumbled. Boyd seemed happy to hear that. "I discovered this place recently while trying out these new silent rockets my dad installed for me." He explained. "You're the first person with whom I'm sharing this."

Louie stared at him in disbelief. "Why me? Why not Huey?"

Boyd pondered for a moment before shrugging. "I don't know. Why Huey? Why not you? There's nothing wrong with you. I like you."

Louie knew that Boyd probably didn't mean anything special with that statement, but it still made him feel full of butterflies.

"Thanks." He wanted to say more, but he didn't know what else to say.

Boyd did not seem to mind it, however, as he simply smiled, sat down with Louie by his side and intertwined their hands together, bouncing his legs around.

Out of sleepiness, Louie allowed himself to rest his head against Boyd's shoulder. Boyd only looked at him without saying anything.

At that moment, Louie suddenly realized that, at some point, he had started to trust Boyd.

He gave it some thought, before quickly deciding that it wasn't a bad thing.

So he let himself stay in that comfortable position for a little while longer.

Before the sun finished rising, Boyd brought Louie back over to his room. Huey seemed to have already woken up, but hopefully, he would think Louie had just gotten up for a short bathroom break.

Boyd gave his friend a quick hug before flying off again.

 —————

 ...Things were quickly starting to get out of hand.

Every time Boyd would come over, send him a message or call him, Louie would feel a knot swell up in his stomach.

He started daydreaming much more often and he caught himself thinking about Boyd countless times.

Louie already wasn't a very productive person to begin with, but now he was having trouble focusing on other things and he had no idea why this was happening to him.

"...And that's why I called you over today." Louie finished explaining with a serious expression. Currently, he found himself in his room sitting in a circle along with Huey, Dewey and Webby. "I fear that I might have been put into a mind-controlling spell of some sort."

His siblings all stared at him before bursting into laughter among themselves, with the only exception being Dewey.

"What are you guys laughing about? What's so funny?! This is no laughing matter!" A warm blush started to spread across Louie's face. "I don't get it either." Dewey scratched his head.

"Are you kidding? Louie, you're in love!" Webby exclaimed. "Oh... Ohhhh… Well, I'm outta here then. Good luck with that." Dewey got up and left.

Louie's face was now burning with a strong tint of red. If he were to be completely honest, he would admit that he had already considered the possibility of him being in love with Boyd.

Alas, Louie Duck had no experience with being completely honest.

"Don't be ridiculous, what makes you think that?" "Um, like literally everything you just told us?" Huey giggled in amusement. "Though if I'm being honest here, I don't think either me or Webby would be of very good help to you in this case."

Webby suddenly became offended. "Wait, why not?! I know all about love! I can give Louie all the love advice he needs!" She flared up.

Huey rolled his eyes. "Yeah right. Speaking of which, how's your relationship with Lena coming around?"

Now it was Webby's turn to blush profusely. "Okay, maybe I'm not the best person to talk about this" She agreed. "But who else is Louie supposed to reach out to then if not for us?"

"I dunno." Huey shrugged. "Maybe uncle Donald? He's dating uncle Panchito, José AND aunt Daisy, right?" "You want me to ask Uncle Donald? No way. He's totally clueless." Louie cut in.

After giving it some thought, Huey agreed with him. "Uncle Scrooge maybe? I'm not really the best person to give you love advice either." Huey shook his head. "Now, if you need any help with your math homework, however…"

"Thanks but no thanks." Louie blew some hair strands away from his face. "I guess I'm gonna have to figure this out on my own."

 —————

 Boyd bounced his legs back and forth while sitting on the couch right next to Louie.

With the help of his siblings behind the scenes, he managed to get some time alone with Boyd at the manor.

"Thank you for inviting me over Louie! This 'Ottoman Empire' show is very interesting." Boyd beamed at him. Their hands were slightly touching on the couch.

In response, Louie just mumbled something incomprehensibly while pulling his hoodie over his head so Boyd couldn't see how flustered he was.

Just a few weeks ago he was completely fine with touching hands with Boyd, but now? He couldn't even think straight because of it, he was overly aware of the android sitting right beside him and the little bodily contact they were sharing.

Boyd picked up on Louie's unrest. He looked straight at him with a worried expression and asked: "Are you okay, Lou? You seem… upset." 

Louie tensed up. He didn't want Boyd to be worried. He wanted to keep things the way they were right now. But… he also wanted to say something. He wanted to tell Boyd about his feelings. He wanted to be honest, to open up to him.

He knew that Boyd would probably support him no matter what, but he still feared confessing for some reason.

He felt like he wasn't good enough for him.

Louie bit down on his beak as he struggled to speak. "Hey… Boyd?" He paused, looking straight at him. "I can talk to you about anything, right..? Like… it's okay for me to do that? And... talk about stuff…" Louie's voice trailed off as he looked downwards.

"Of course you can. I'll always be here to listen to you. You can trust me." Boyd held Louie's hand gently.

Louie retracted his hand shyly before speaking up. "Uh… okay, so, you see, the thing is… I think... I think I like you? Like, like like you? Like… love… you?" Louie pulled his hoodie way over his head, avoiding any and all chance of eye contact with Boyd.

Meanwhile, Boyd had turned awfully quiet. Louie had no idea what kind of face the boy was making, but with each silent passing second, he became more and more sure that it must be a scornful one.

There was no way such a bright, lovely boy would ever like someone like him.

Louie started to hug himself tightly. He wasn't good enough for Boyd, he was inadequate for him, he wasn't a good person, he didn't deserve to be loved, he—

Slowly but surely, Boyd lift up Louie's hoodie away from his face.

What Louie saw was an incredulous-looking Boyd, with his face bright red and his eyes sparkling like he was about to cry.

"Really?" Boyd's voice sounded desperate but gentle, tingling pleasantly in his ears. "You mean it?"

Louie nodded.

Quietly, Boyd began to sob.

And then he laughed.

He put his hands to his face with a dumb-looking smile.

"Sorry, I'm probably not making a lot of sense right now. I like you too, Louie. I love you."

Louie's brain started melting at the mention of those words. After a while, he managed to squeeze the words out: "So… does that mean we're dating now?"

Boyd giggled happily and Louie thought that his heart might stop. "I think that's what this means, yes."

"Okay. Cool."

Louie was completely devoid of things to say, but Boyd didn't mind it. Carefully, he snuggled up to Louie and held him close.

"I like you, Louie. I like you. You're the person that I like. I like you." Boyd kept repeating. Not because he was broken, but because he knew that Louie would appreciate it.

Louie reciprocated the hug. "I like you too."

They spent the rest of their day sitting close together while watching the rest of Ottoman Empire… until Louie's family suddenly walked in on the scene and proceeded to tease him endlessly.

Boyd laughed along with them.

"You're supposed to be on my side!" Louie whined. "I'm sorry Lou, I just… really like it when your face gets all flushed like that." Boyd smiled gently at him. "It's pretty."

Louie hid himself even further inside his hoodie upon hearing that.

He would rather die than admit this to anybody, but he was actually very happy at that moment.

[jaskiersvalley]

🌼~BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD! Once you are given this award you’re supposed to paste it in the asks of 8 people who deserve it. If you break the chain nothing happens, but it's sweet to know someone thinks you’re beautiful inside and out.~🌼 (for you're such a lovely person who shares so many beautiful fics with us and is always up for talking. ily

I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting on this ask because I just love seeing you in my inbox. But, like with everything, I need to stop hoarding and write a little thank you <3

Something wasn’t quite squaring up with Nilfgaard’s army. It spread at an alarming rate, much faster than a regular army could. Whatever sorcery the mages and sorceresses have concocted, it was terrifying. Such an army shouldn’t have been able to sustain itself, it needed food, water, resources to travel. Yet, despite all this, the army seemed to move silently, without the usual almost locust like destruction and draining of everything in their path. Nobody seemed to be able to pinpoint where the army was when it wasn’t fighting, only small scouting groups. People learned to be wary of those groups too. Wherever they went, the army was never seemingly far behind, backing them up at a moment’s notice. It was a mystery that was yet to be solved.

Finding a Nilfgaardian on the run was quite unusual. Eskel didn’t think it was something he’d live to see. They were usually so cocksure, travelling in their little groups. He had learned to spot them, even if they weren’t trying to make a scene. One leader, with five protectors. Those five tended to be on full alert and guarding their leader which was a bit odd, but then again, Nilfgaard as a whole was a bit peculiar.

The man Eskel spotted was obviously from the South, he heard him order, the accent harsh yet lilting at the same time. Watching him find the darkest corner - the one Eskel had wanted for himself - curiosity was winning out. Only a desperate man would share a space with a Witcher and this man, though he shrank away, steadfastly refused to move from the shadows of the corner.

“Got separated from your group?” Eskel liked to make small talk if he could. Especially when it helped solve a curiosity like the man opposite him.

“Something like that.”

Evasive, huddled and not looking Eskel in the eyes. The plot thickened. “So you ran away.” While the man didn’t seemingly react, Eskel could hear his heartrate pick up. “Why?”

Silence stretched. The man finished his food in a great hurry and was up, evidently not wanting any kind of company. Oddly, Eskel didn’t think it had anything to do with him being a Witcher.

The next morning the man was nowhere to be seen. But Eskel caught his scent and, with nothing better to do, he set off at a leisurely pace in the same direction. If they bumped into each other he could always claim it was a funny twist of Fate. He shouldn’t have joked about it, not even in his own head because, not a few miles out of the village, he found the evidence of a scuffle. The whole stretch of road had a tang of death to it which he couldn’t place. However, he soon forgot about it because he could smell blood and hear the pained, laboured breaths of someone. Rounding the small clump of bushes, Eskel tutted. “Run into trouble?”

“No.”

The blatant lie drew a laugh from Eskel. He had to admit, he was intrigued. Grabbing his pack, he approached the man, showing him his hands in an attempt to reassure that he meant no harm. In fact, he was offering a helping hand.

“Did they get what they wanted?” The question tripped from Eskel’s lips as he lifted the man’s gambeson away to reveal a cut to his side. It wasn’t deep but it was in the crease of soft flesh that tended to sting like a bitch, Eskel knew that from experience. His only reply was a shake of the head. “Good. You sent them packing by the looks of it. I’m impressed. My name’s Eskel by the way.”

Still no reply and the man tipped his head back, staring at the sky with gritted teeth while Eskel saw to his wound.

“Well, you’re in no state to travel alone. You headed anywhere in particular?” Another head shake but this time the man watched him with guarded eyes. “Okay. Why don’t we travel together for a bit. I can help keep you safe.”

“I can’t pay you for your services.” Clipped words that sounded tired. "And you probably shouldn't be around me."

It was cute, how the man seemed so determined to drive Eskel away without being cruel. Most refreshing. "I don't need your payment. As I'm not headed anywhere in particular, I figured we could both use a bit of company."

That settled the matter and, for three days they travelled in companionable silence, sticking to villages and heading north. It was only in a larger village that Eskel learned the man's name and not because they were getting more friendly either. The poster bore quite a good likeness to Cahir.

"So-" Eskel said as they camped outside the village, "-want to tell me why Nilfgaard thinks you're dangerous enough to not be approached but your sighting should be reported swiftly and discreetly?"

Cahir let out a world weary sigh, shoulders drooping. "I control a large portion of their army. They want me back for that."

Which was interesting. In Eskel's experience no general tended to command such loyalty. He was also a sucker for those in need. Plus, the chance to fuck Nilfgaard over was quite glorious. He smirked. "Want to come to Kaer Morhen to hide out for the winter?"

It was a bit of a trek north still but Cahir began to relax around Eskel. They shared their first kiss at the foot of the trail up to Kaer Morhen. A few more were traded along the way but, for the most part, they huddled for warmth, cuddled up for the cold nights.

Slowly the keep filled up with its regular winter visitors, all of them somewhat hesitant to greet Cahir until Eskel intervened with a pointed glare from behind him. Everyone settled in, Geralt turned up with Jaskier, Lambert and Aiden did their usual thing, even Coen managed to slip through the gates before the snow hit. Soon, they were all enjoying the roaring fires, drink and songs. Despite his army background, Cahir turned down all invitations to train and share knowledge. It didn't make him very popular but his cooking helped ease any grumblings.

It was all going well until a portal opened up and Yennefer stepped through. midway through greeting everyone she froze and turned to the door as Cahir stepped in.

"What are you?" she hissed, hand curling to cradle an unleashed spell.

"Nilfgaard's finest deserter."

That didn't seem to help ease Yennefer and she looked over Cahir with a critical eye. "I can see Fringilla's work in there with several others'. You volunteer for this?"

"Only as much as someone volunteers to be a Witcher."

"Just what is going on?" Vesemir rumbled. He had a hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to jump in. That had Cahir taking a step back, a pained expression.

"I wouldn't advise you hurt me. You have an awful lot of dead buried here."

The growl from Vesemir wasn't reassuring. "Don't threaten me in my own home, boy."

"Vesemir!" The warning came from Yennefer of all people. "Don't."

Something was crackling in their air, Eskel could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It was magic but not any kind he had felt before. Even worse, he could trace the source back to Cahir whose eyes were turning black slowly.

"I'm going to go outside. Please nobody follow." Stiffly, Cahir turned and marched out of the keep, into the snow covered woods. Silence reigned in his wake.

"The fuck?" Lambert spat, looking angry in his bewilderment.

As one, they all turned to Yennefer for an explanation. None of them had felt even a hint of magic from Cahir until that moment.

"That-" Yennefer pointed to where Cahir had been, "-is an unnatural necromancer. No innate ability but, with the right stimuli, can raise the dead between here and the bottom of the mountain."

The silence stretched until Jaskier cursed. "Now we know how Nilfgaard's army is sustained."

As big as the revelation was, Eskel had a bigger concern. That was his boyfriend who had just walked out, looking ready to be consumed by his unnatural powers. Stepping out of the keep, Eskel had to whistle. The whole area between the keep and the woods was covered in flowers, a carpet of green dotted with blossoms of colour. In the middle of it all was Cahir, kneeling, eyes closed and head tipped towards his chest. His breathing was forcedly even and deep.

"Go away," Cahir gritted out.

"It's just me."

Looking up, Cahir's eyes were black and bottomless, his breath hitched as a tear trickled down his cheek. "I didn't mean to. I promise. They're everywhere."

Eskel could hear the footsteps, shuffling and shambling. Not all of them human, one alarmingly large.

"Old Speartip," Eskel growled. From the forest around them an army of the undead approached. All the bodies they didn't have the means to burn after the sacking, Old Speartip from his cave, forktails they'd left dotted around the mountain, they were all approaching Kaer Morhen. Along with them came the smell Eskel had scented on the road where bandits had accosted Cahir, now he knew what happened back then.

Cahir let out a shuddering breath, hands curled into a fist. "Threats of violence and pain make them come."

"And when you feel safe, do they go away?"

A miserable nod was his answer and Eskel dropped to his knees. He gathered Cahir against his chest and kissed his softly, demanding all his boyfriend's focus to be on him. The noise of the undead around them stopped, under his knees Eskel could feel the grass wilting back to its winter state. Pulling away, he was pleased to see the blue of Cahir's eyes.

"I'll always keep you safe," he rumbled. A darker thought crossed his mind. "The groups of six scouts for Nilfgaard, they weren't scouts at all, were they?"

From the doorway, Eskel could hear the others shuffling around and peering out at them. But his attention was on Cahir and Cahir alone.

"A necromancer and their guards who're also their tormentors." Cahir sniffled. "There's a reason I've not joined you in the waterfalls. To raise an army, they did unspeakable things."

Eskel pulled Cahir tightly to his chest, wishing he could make everything better. Alas, there wasn't much to be done other than what he'd already been doing; supporting and loving to the best of his abilities.

"We now know better," he tried to reassure. "How would you feel if, in the spring, we continued to travel together? We can take any road you feel comfortable on."

Looking up at Eskel with wide, wet eyes, Cahir licked his lips. "I can't pay you for your services," he said, repeating his words from all those months ago. "But how would you feel about fucking Nilfgaard over? We could rescue a few more necromancers."

It was a daring plan but one that Eskel was intrigued by. So were the others when, over dinner, Cahir haltingly told them everything. The Path was unpredictable at the best of times, the coming year it was going to get even more convoluted.

[riversofmars]

Here's a prompt I hope you'll do. River finds the TARDIS in Sheffield empty and decides to hang around deep inside when the Doctor and the fam (or just Yaz) get back to go on a trip without knowing River is there.

Thank you for two brilliant prompts! Fair warning, I don’t think this will be what either one of you expected lol. But I hope you’ll like it anyway! I've been agonising over this for quite a while. I was getting a bit fed up with myself cause I feel like I'm repeating myself a lot in my writing at the moment, so I wanted to try something different. With both of these prompts referring to the TARDIS, I decided to try and write it from the TARDIS’s POV! It was a lot of fun and made a nice change, I just hope you like it!

Rating: G

Word Count: 2700

Read on AO3 or below

Timeless Children 

I know she’s on her way, long before she knocks on my door. I always know. I remember it fondly and I look forward to it, as she chuckles:

“Well, hello Sweetie!“

To be perfectly honest, the point of speech still eludes me, it makes very little sense as a concept. Words seem so confining: How is a sentient entity that exists outside of linear time meant to retell a moment that has happened, is happening, and will happen in words that a human mind will understand? It’s a silly notion. And yet there are words that are so much bigger than the sum of their letters. Hello Sweetie. Those words ripple through our time lines like a tidal wave and are far more than a greeting.

Here is River Song, knocking, awaiting a response from my Thief who is being very inconsiderate for being out. But I suppose they didn’t know she would be dropping by - unlike me. Thankfully, she has a key. Mind you, I would have let her in as well but she’s always been impatient. Like the river of time, always moving, far more fitting than a stationary pond. There we go again with words and their meanings.

“This makes a change…“ She smiles and I hum as she steps inside. It’s the best greeting I can manage in their reality but I cast my mind out to her and she understands. She always does, just like my Thief. She’s looking around and I agree, I like the golden light too, it’s warm and welcoming and plays nicely in her golden curls. “Hello Old Girl.“ She comes up to the console and presses her hand to it. Funny this obsession linear beings have for touch, as if our minds touching wasn’t intimate enough a gesture, but I’ll indulge it.

“Looking good in your old age. This is the oldest I’ve ever seen you.“ She carries on and what a funny concept indeed to comprehend when everything is happening, has happened, will happen all at once.

“Has he changed again, too?“ River draws a logical conclusion, naturally. She is a clever one and that’s why they’re so well matched: my Thief and my Child. So I hum proudly, though I’m not sure my sentiment comes across. “Well, this should be interesting.“ She smirks and makes her way further into my corridors. She’s probably looking for her spouse and unlike me is unaware they’re about to return. I’d tell her but she will realise soon enough.

Here they are now, banging the door shut a bit too firmly for my liking but it’s the sound that draws River back.

“Where shall we go?“ My dear Thief is lacking so much of their natural enthusiasm at this point in their timeline but they hide it well. I doubt Yaz even notices, they rarely do, the ways and strays. But The Doctor’s sadness, their turmoils echoes through my mind in the same way as River’s surprise does when she spots her spouse from the doorway.

Both their feelings resonate through me more than either of them will ever realise. I can always hear and feel them, no matter where and when they are. In return, I will have to content myself with the implicit understanding we share, the bits and pieces they manage to pick up with their linear, yet beautiful minds. I guess this is what made my kind band together with the Time Lords in the first place. They do better than most, with their pretty minds and sensitivity to time. And my Thief and their wife are special indeed.

“You decide. You’ve been locked up for nineteen years, there must be somewhere you’ve been wanting to go.“ It’s the human girl again and the Doctor smiles a very fake smile.

This bit is really not very interesting at all. I’m far more concerned with what my Thief is thinking rather than saying. I’m still extremely mad with them for that they did. There is no need for philosophical debate whether my sister had to die to defeat the squids in their metal homes, or not. It always has and always will happen but that doesn’t make it right. Stupid, selfish, impulsive, inconsiderate, desperate, bitter, cold, lost… Again, so many words and none good enough to truly describe what the Doctor did or how they’re feeling now.

At least River is here now, I’m glad she came. Her love for my Thief is a welcome reprieve from their gloominess. And I enjoy her delight for seeing their new face as she’s watching from the doorway, still unnoticed. Their emotions are so conflicting. My Thief is feeling so broken up over her recent experiences and my Child is feeling so whole for seeing her love again. She’s hanging back still, curious to find out what they’re like now. It’s often more informative than asking straight out. The Doctor rarely truly talks to anyone. They never share their sorrow. Linear, solid beings are funny like that. All that memory space and they use it to bottle up their emotions. They’ll need a little kick as usual and that’s where I come in.

“Doctor, what’s happening?“ I think I scared Yaz a little by just taking off but needs must.

“I don’t know, I didn’t…“ Come on my beloved Thief, by now you should know the difference between going where you want to go and where you need to be. “It’s the TARDIS, she’s going this. What are you playing at?“ She scolds around the room as if I could be swayed by a little temper tantrum.

“You still don’t know how to fly her, do you.“ I knew River wouldn’t be able to resist. I do enjoy watching them bicker.

“What? How?!“ The Doctor whips around and their emotions nearly knock me off course. There is just so much of it. These corporal beings really are so much bigger on the inside when it comes to that. Surprise. Joy. Confusion. Hope. Fear. Longing. That silly need to restrain their reaction so they wouldn’t get carried away… And the amusement, playfulness from River which only covers that deep insecurity she always feels when seeing my Thief again. I wish they would just tell her of the depth of their emotions instead of hiding it away. So many misunderstandings could be avoided if they both just shared everything, they would finally fully understand the depth of their feelings for each other, the way I understand them. But the Doctor is always scared of giving too much, knowing that their time together is limited. And River doesn’t want to hold them back, assuming she is just a tiny speck of dust in their extraordinary life, so she keeps her distance so it wouldn’t hurt so much… They’re both so wrong.

“How many regenerations is this now? And you still haven’t found the time to glance at the manual.“ Ah yes, teasing. The bedrock of their relationship and River’s way of going on the offensive, dictate the conversation. She likes to be in control of it. Ever since the Silence took her, she doesn’t like to be at the mercy of others. She probably doesn't even realise she’s doing it but I guess I just understand, sometimes I understand either one of them better than they understand themselves. To be fair, I have the advantage of having peeked at the end. And the beginning. And everything in between.

“I have been travelling in this TARDIS for thousands of years, I don’t have to…“ They get so offended when someone insults their driving. Sometimes I do it on purpose just to wind them up.

“Does she still leave the brakes on?“ River smirks at the human who just doesn’t understand. Not that she would have a clue as to how to fly me, but she also doesn’t have a clue as to who she’s dealing with.

“The brakes?“ Yaz echoes.

“And still you don’t use the stabilisers.“ Yes, quite right my darling Child and thank you, the Doctor never does. It feels a lot better when she flicks the right switch on the console.

“Who are you?“ Yaz is looking around for an explanation and my Thief is too wrapped up in her own thoughts to answer. Her fears and worries are painful.

“Professor River Song.“ Again, with the touching. Solids and their hand shakes.

“River, how did you get in here?“ Finally my Thief finds their voice at last.

“Saw you parked up in Sheffield, how was I to know you weren’t home. I knocked.“ River points out quite rightly. Right place, right time. Let’s be honest, I had something to do with that.

“So you got in and hid?“ There is really no need for the Doctor to act all affronted when really, it’s their own fault for not being here and when it’s just a defence mechanism to deal with her emotions.

“I do have a key.“ Also, I would have let her in either way.

“Why does she have a key? Who is she.“ Oh Yaz, come on, it is pretty obvious by now. But that reminds me… It’s about time for something else but let’s try not to be too obvious… Some turbulence will do it. It knocks them about a bit but not too much. Enough for River to tease her spouse some more:

“What sort of a course did you set? We just went straight through a cloud of sigma particles.“ River is so much better with my controls. She is my Child after all and she listens, whereas my Thief very rarely does. They’re so stubborn like that.

“A what?“ Yaz asks.

“Like a speed bump in the time vortex.“ Yeah, sorry, that was me but let’s not tell that to my Thief.

“Do you know how to fly her?“ Yaz is in awe and who can blame her.

“Unlike someone over here. What are you doing down there, Sweetie.“ Now she notices them crouching over, about time, but thanks for looking after me first.

“Are you okay, Doctor?“ Yaz notices as well.

“What have you got there?“ River recognises it of course but it’s polite it ask.

“I… thought I’d lost this… when I regenerated last time, it slipped off my finger.“ The Doctor shows it to them. The ring. “It was too big and I thought it was gone… the TARDIS must have kept it safe…“

Well of course I did, silly Thief. Your wife would have killed you if you’d lost it and we can’t have that. Also, you joy for finding it is such a lovely break from the gloom.

“You thought you’d lost your wedding ring?“ There River goes acting all affronted when really, she’s so very happy to see it and so touched at how emotional my Thief is over finding it again.

“Wedding ring?“ I can’t blame Yaz for feeling out of the loop. The Doctor really isn’t forthcoming with information but I suppose it’s hard. I know how much they hurt whenever they’re reminded of their wifes loss. “You’re married?“

“I don’t know why I thought that was a good idea at the time…“ River teases to stop herself from revealing her real emotions. I wish solids didn’t insist on doing that all the time. It gets weary after a while. “Oh there we go with the breaks. See, it’s not meant to make that noise.“ Indeed, time to land.

“I love that noise.“ My Thief huffs getting to their feet.

“She doesn’t.“ River retorts. Admittedly, I do like it a little bit. Always nice to announce ones arrival. But it does wear my brake pads down.

“You talk just like the Doctor. Like the TARDIS is a person.“ Yaz points out and I guess she can’t be blamed for not understanding. She can’t sense me in the way the Doctor and River can.

“Person is a bit inaccurate. More like… entity. Sentient being. Person sounds so… limiting.“ River understands and I hum, if only for the joy of seeing Yaz jump a little at the obvious response.

“How do you know that.“ She’s probably intrigued to find out.

“Timelords have a certain sensitivity to it, it’s why they aligned themselves with each other, the Timelords and the TARDISes, they’re a race in their own right if you will.“ River is kind to explain. That’s the mark of her trade, the archeology professor.

“Are you also a Timelord?“ It’s a fair assumption. My Thief wouldn’t go around just marrying anyone. Unless of course you count all those accidental marriages… Elizabeth I, Cleopatra, Marilyn Monroe, I could go on but I’ll spare them the embarrassment.

“Something thereabouts.“ River waves it off, it’s too big a question to answer right now but it is important, now more than ever. We’ll get to that soon.

“You’re no less a Timelord than I am, River.“ That’s a good start. I knew eventually, the Doctor wouldn’t be able to hide it. This is why I needed to bring them back together. River will understand and help.

“Sorry?“ Well, she doesn’t understand right away but she will.

“The Timelords are a myth, a fabrication, they’re not a species, they’re thieves.“ That’s rich, coming from you, Thief.

“What do you mean?“

“It’s a long story…“ The Doctor regrets the outburst now. Again, that reluctance to talk. It would be so much easier to just get it out of the way but they insist on going about it the long way.

“I have time.“ I can sense River’s worry now as she, in turn, senses the Doctor’s distress that they're trying to bury.

“Where are we?“ Yaz interrupts and it’s a good question. I flick on one of the screens to show them and move this conversation along.

“Don’t. We’re going.“ My Thief actually covers my screen so they can’t see. How rude. “I don’t know what you’re playing at but I don’t want to be here!“ They snap at me but as if that has ever done anything to impress me. They’re adorable when they get angry. So I turn on all the screens.

“Gallifrey?“ Yaz and River look to different screens as the Doctor can’t cover them all and they come to the same conclusion.

“What’s left of it…“ My Thief huffs, trying to cover the anger and sadness that I feel most keenly.

“What happened here?“ River realises the destruction that Yaz already knew about. “Tell me.“

Yes my beloved Thief. Tell her. You need to talk to her about it. I can’t talk back to you but she can. And maybe, then, you will realise something I’ve always known.

“The Master did this… he was so angry.“ The Doctor knows they’re defeated, giving in at last. About time, too.

“You’re angry too. Why?“ River is so clever to pick it up, even without a telepathic connection to them. “Not just over what he did but something else. What did you mean when you said the Timelords are a fabrication?“ Clever girl.

“It was all a lie, River.“ Finally. There we are. It’s like dragging water from a stone but we’re getting somewhere and I know they’ll feel better for it. “I’m not one of them but they used me.“ I can tell they’re starting to feel better already and it’s what keeps them talking. “They found me. They took my DNA, my regenerative ability and gave it to themselves… And I don’t remember any of it. I don’t know who I am. Where I’m from. What I am.“ Their voice trails off into what seems like silence but for me, it’s a storm of emotions raging through my mind. The Doctor’s sadness and desperation. River’s anger at what had been done to her love. Their shared sorrow as they both know what it’s like to be used as a pawn. They are so similar in so many ways. And then, there is relief and warmth when River pulls the Doctor into her arms.

“Oh Sweetie.“ She kisses the top of their head and I’m starting to understand a little better what it is about touch. My Thief’s feelings on the matter are overwhelming. The love, comfort and assurance alleviate so much of the pain.

“When you said you’re not quite a Timelord but thereabouts…“ Yes, thank you Yaz for pointing out the obvious.

The Doctor looks up to River and the realisation comes as a wave of relief and joy for me as well.

Your wife is the closest thing to anything - anyone -  like you, my darling Thief. She just happened. In the same way you did. So perhaps it’s time you actually talked, my Timeless Children.

[botwstoriesandsuch]

Sidequests are part of the story so it’s still my ballpark shut up it’s time for

Read Part 1 here!

Part 2 || Part 3

If you’re on mobile, and tumblr hates this post, follow along on this google doc!

Rules/overview this rewrite in the beginning of Part 1

- - - - - - - - - - 

Side quests, side quests, side quests. What are they? And what are they doing here, on an Age of Calamity rewrite? I must admit, game design is not an inherent forte of mine, and I like to think that my only “expertise” would be on writing and storytelling. So what the fuck is a fool like me doing here

Well my dear ladies, lads, and gentlefolk, if your memory does serve, I did say that the format of Age of Calamity was one that served the major plot and story beats for it’s cutscenes, and its worldbuilding and good parts of it’s character development for its gameplay and side quests. It’s actually a concept that can be seen in shows and movies too, although obviously it’s origins are in TTRPGs and videogames. Definition wise, a side quest is any deviation from the main story and plot that serves to flesh out an optional/overseen aspect of the game. So there’s out perfect outlet for worldbuilding, characters, and even a bit of humour. Side quests, by definition, can’t simply be just XP grinders, because otherwise you could…..just make an XP grinder. It’s like saying you’re getting your kids a bike, but then you get them a stationary exercise one. Sure it’s functionally the same and gives the same benefits, but it could be so much more. 

Does Age of Calamity have good side quests? I’d actually argue, yes. I mean sure, it’s not exactly gonna hold a candle to Fallout or Witcher 3, but there are great memorable side quests that do serve their purposes in this game. 

A fan favourite is “The So-Called Knight,” in which Link spars Mipha, Teba, Sidon, and Revali, a conflict of the Sidon’s confidence and belief in Link, with Revali’s skepticism and grudge against him. Not only is it great fandom content, but it explores the carrying POVs of several characters in a fun way. We also have Hestu’s Dance Competition, and the Miss Vai Battle Pageant. What they lack in serious character tone, they make up for in humour and world building. Even the quests that have nothing to do with the main cast of characters, like the Questionable Escort Mission, still provide funny and interesting details about the world, like how the Yiga Clan is still ever persistent in trying to take down Link with monsters and Windcleavers alike. 

It’s not like those side quests were functionally useless either, all of them still provided great amounts of exp and materials. What specifically made them great and memorable was their small little stories and character/world details. Of course, that’s not to say you can’t have the occasional plotless boss rush every now and again, those are fun in their own right and it’s good to have variety. But just thinking about it...what were everyone’s least favourite sidequests? The timed Yiga Escape?  The ones where you sit around defending strongholds? The one hit death Hair-Width Trials? Ah...so all the least enjoyable side quests were the ones that were difficult, with no enjoyable character or worldbuilding to back it up….interesting interesting….interesting pattern indeed. 

So, let’s improve the game a bit further. I do need to pace out my future character arcs somehow. I tried to make use of the existing quests where I could, but it’s just eaaaasier to just not think about it and do it from scratch. Just shove these in place of all those quests whose only description is “monsters have been spotted here! Take Mipha and go to work!” and stuff like that. Alrighty then! Here’s my take on cool side quests for every single character thus far, along with their paired gambit attacks. Prepare for heists! Drama! Simping! And Bananas!

Link: Mastering Stasis

Ok I have no idea when this quest unlocks so just for my purposes assume this only becomes available after Link pulls the Master Sword. 

Engage the hordes of monsters that have been spotted in Hyrule Field. Now is a great time to master the use of the Stasis Rune. Impa and Zelda accompany you, but it seems stasised monsters aren’t the only thing coming to a tense standstill…

This isn’t anything that special, I just want to further highlight this tension that Zelda and Link have, as it’s something touched upon in Botw, but never really mentioned or used ever in Hwaoc. Now more than ever, Zelda has an excuse to have a rocky relationship with him because she could actively see just how far he’s coming in such a short amount of time. Classic “he probably hates me so I guess I’ll hate him” thing.

You play as Link, the game gives you your little prompts on how to use Stasis, you take out a few hordes of Bokoblins and blah blah blah. I wanted to use an earlier level to establish Zelda’s relationship sooner as obviously it’s gonna be important to the story. But of course like all side quests it won’t kill you to skip out. Text dialogue can be Zelda saying science shit like “This will be a good opportunity to test out the full limits of the Stasis rune” and then Impa’s all “Yep! We got your back, Princess! We’ll clear out these monsters in no time.”Then Link the little angsty shit that he is says nothing, and as you play you clear out more and more bokoblins Zelda just says “...” and then we can toss in a Moblin or two in there for gambit voice stuff.  

Gambit dialogue with Impa would be supportive, her usual spunky dialogue. I had two ideas for Gambit attacks with Link: One where Impa does that thing where she cuts a giant laser through the air, but it’s aimed towards Link and he parries it right in a monster’s FACE because I think it’s badass and also a good way to show trust and stuff. The second thing was Impa’s giant bomb barrels, but Link is the one to somehow ignite them, because he is an arsonist after all. He can even have a chaotic Sheikah blue glint in his eyes like blue flame, I can already picture it so clearly given how anime/dramatic Impa’s movements are. Impa sets bombs, Link *teleports behind Moblin* nothin personal, kid. 

Also right at the end of their gambit attacks, Impa and Link should try to fist bump or something (cause the whole “cool guys don’t look at explosions” thing that Impa usually does on her own) but are interrupted by eggbot jumping up to try and join in. And then Impa can be annoyed and try to punt it or something. That’s not just self-indulgent that’s in her character she totally would and I want to make use of the fact that eggbot travels around with Link. The success of her attempts to punt him can vary.

If Link does a gambit with Zelda, her dialogue can just be her usual monotone Princess stuff, “Thanks for lending your strength,” or “There is still much more to do!” just purely professional, we’re not at a stage yet where she’s buddy buddy with Link. Their gambit attacks can still be cool though. One idea I had was Zelda using stasis, and you know how when you use it in botw everything lights up with that sonar effect? So Link stands besides Zelda, and she activates stasis, the first “sonar” light wave reveals the stasised monster, and you see it from the view of the Sheikah Slate. Then with each additional flash of sonar you just see this silhouette of Link going absolute ham on a monster. And then when the stasis “ding ding ding ding ding” is done, everything’s just dead. Can you see my inspiration from Persona 5 yet? Second idea was Zelda using cryonis and makes an ice ramp for Link to shield surf on and ram into a monster. For entertainment purposes Zelda should also be putting frogs on said slide. (Also also the reason I’m putting Link as the main focus for those gambit attacks is because I want to juxtapose it with future gambits where Zelda may or may not be more powerful…)

Anyhow anyhow, so this side quest, you beat some bokoblins, theres a moblin or two. However as you progress Zelda’s dialogue because a bit more passive aggressive, maybe Zelda can be a bit irritated at how quickly Link is defeating everything before she can even contribute. Impa can comment on this like “She hasn’t exactly been warming up to you, has she…” and then the last point of the side quest, Zelda runs off, there’s a...let’s say a big horde of blue or black Moblins. Or a horde of Wizzrobes, I’m not too picky on it. Link can save her and do a gambit or whatever, but the point of importance is that Zelda leaves with the clear mindset off, “You don’t need to keep coddling me, I can handle my own” to Link, but is “Thank you, I’m glad you’re here,” to Impa. 

Now I stole was inspired to use this based on this comic by @novellanova, and you should check it out here. But basically, at the end when all the monsters are dead and the last few text boxes are rolling, Impa says something like “Gee, at this rate I might have to protect you from the princess! Hmm…. you know, maybe if you two had the opportunity to hang out more and get to know each other, she’d warm up to you! Ha! That’s it! I’ve made up my mind. Listen up Link, from now on I’m gonna let you man the wheel when it comes to protecting Zelda. So with me out of the picture you better take the opportunity to be the nicest, most helpful, and most effective body guard there is. I know you already are, but still, if I hear that one little Chuchu so much as splat in her direction I will take you down...got it?” And, that’s that.

Side quest done. Fun Link gambits with Impa and Zelda, some little character POVs on the situation, plus an explanation as to why Impa doesn’t accompany Zelda everywhere/nods to the cutscenes of Botw as to what happened to Impa. Alright, that was probably the most boring one so let’s move on to

Daruk: A Rumbling Stomach

Alright I’ll be honest...I have no idea what to do with Daruk. Especially when Yunobo’s not here, I got zip-zero to work with considering his character is non-existent. Further down the line I’ll certainly try to give him more nuances and the like, but I’m afraid the majority of my character efforts have been towards Astor, Revali, Zelda, and [REDACTED] so this is my apology ahead of time, rock fuckers.

This is my take on how to make those timed quests more fun. So basically, the premise of this stage is that Daruk was just happily hanging around trying to enjoy his rock roast, when a monster surprised him and he dropped it, and now it’s rolling down the hill. This is based on my real Breath of the Wild experience where I had to trek up that Volcano path to bring a rock roast for that shrine quest, but at the very top I dropped it and had to chase it down before it fell into the lava below. 

Daruk is eager to chow down on the finest rock roasts this year has to offer! It’s too bad things go downhill when monsters start to ambush. Defeat key enemies and rescue Daruk’s tumbling meal before this year’s wait goes to waste!

So, that’s what this is. The stage opens and Daruk says “NOOooOO! My rock roast! Damn monsters!” and you have to defeat baddies and catch up to the rock roast before the timer runs out and it falls into lava. And then when you finish and get back the rock roast that’s pretty much it….except SIKE no it’s not. Because a lot of these timed quests usually have a “surprise! There’s more!” thing at the end so I’ll do that here too. So Daruk has saved his rock roast and he’s talking about how he’s going to enjoy it in all its deliciousness, when he’s cut off by a random Goron’s scream. Turns out, Daruk’s yelling at the monsters about desperation to retrieve his lost lunch has attracted monsters to some traveling civilians, and now you gotta go beat a Talus, or a couple of Moblins, or something...Again I don’t really have level set or idea when these side quests unlock so just use your imagination. Once Daruk defeats the monster(s) the Gorons can thank him, and then one of the Goron kids can be like “Ooo! Is that a super special rock roast?!?” And Daruk is all:  “Ah! Well all the best Goron heroes eat plenty of rocks! This here is the gourmet stuff. You can only get it once a—” And the kid’s like “Woah! I’ve always wanted to have one, that’s why I’ve been training hard so I can explore more of the mountain. Where’d you get it??” And Daruk can sputter a bit, before finally sighing and giving into his instincts. “Ah….well, why don’t you have it? You’re probably really hungry after running around with those monsters…”

“Woah really?? Are you sure—”

“YEAH JUST TAKE IT ALREADY GO”

“Woah, thank you!” and then the Goron kid and co run off. Cue Daruk crying to himself in the background. Daruk may have an appetite, but I like to characterize him as the Goron Hero first and foremost.  

I’m sure that doesn’t stop him from mourning his rock though.

Mipha: Stronger Sentiments

Mipha and Daruk talked a whole bunch about training together so that Mipha can grow stronger, and Daruk was catching on to her crush on Link and it was a nice interaction in between them except for the fact that we never see them do the damn training so that’s what this is.

I think this is as good an opportunity as any to make this a Hair-Width quest, the ones where you can’t take one hit. The difficulty of a level is one of the most effective ways to put the players in the boots of a character to experience the same struggles they do. If the player works hard, then they automatically associate that with the character working hard. So, yeah, let’s have Mipha kicking ass and working to be strong enough to protect Link.

Mipha is determined to grow stronger. Daruk and the other Gorons are helping out with an intense training session by Gut Check Rock. Prove yourself by defeating all the enemies you encounter!

So Mipha is sparring with the Gorons, you fight through them and the captains and blah blah, the final boss is fighting Daruk without getting hit. 

“I promise not to hurt you more than I’m capable of reversing.”

“Ha! Give me all you’ve got, princess!”

You fight, cue the special music or whatever. I mentioned that gambit dialogue/attacks could also work to be custom for the character that you’re fighting, so I’m thinking something like this. Daruk slams the ground and rocks and magma sprout up around him like jagged pieces of glass, but Mipha is no where to be seen. Daruk’s kinda huffing and puffing, “Where’d you go Mipha…” and then FWOOSH, giant geyser right behind him. [yes I KNOW I overuse the *teleports behind you* “nothing personal, kid” thing but I think it’s COOL and you can’t stop me] So anyhow, you know that thing in Avatar where Pakku is just riding at the top of a whirlpool and destroying everything? That’s Mipha.

Daruk turns around and scratches the back of his head. “...huh….that’s not good.” Cue Mipha swooping down to deal the defeating blow. 

So Mipha wins, she can mention how wonderful it was and how much stronger she feels. And she can thank Daruk, and he’s all “No problem!” but he mutters something like “And I thought Gorons hit hard...now I know how Link feels.” End side quest….SIKE it’s another surprise boss at the end. A Goron captain suddenly reports that an Igneo Talus has appeared nearby. 

Mipha goes up to fight it, but wow! Link is already there. They both fight it, but it’s clear that Link didn’t need her help that much. You can defeat the Talus with a Mipha/Link gambit. It’s similar to Link’s usual “swing sword in a giant circle and become a death windmill” but Mipha kinda enhances it with water or something and it puts out the Talus. I wanted this ending with a focus on how strong Link is just to show that while Mipha is improving, she’s still not yet where she needs to be. 

Daruk: “Sorry I wasn’t much help at the end there, I was busy, uh, stretching.”

Mipha: “Oh it’s quite alright, Daruk. We were both quite tired from today’s training.”

Daruk: “Well I dunno about that...seems to me you were quite lively and active as you fought beside Link. *wink*”

Mipha: “Huh!?!? W-What is that supposed to mean??”

Cue laughter from Daruk. Mipha is flustered. And Link is just...confused, as always. 

Urbosa: Mighty Thunder of the Gerudo

So in the game this is just some normal outpost capturing, stronghold defending side quest, but we’re gonna spice it up just a bit. 

An important excavation site is being overrun by monsters, and Urbosa has set out to engage them. Defend and capture the outposts, in order to prevent this valuable place from falling into enemy hands…

So you fight as Urbosa, defeat some enemies and blah blah. When you first arrive there, I want one of the Gerudo Captains to be like “Lady Urbosa? Where did you come—What are you doing here? Aren’t there areas of greater importance for you to be at right now?” Urbosa says something like “Nevermind that now, let us focus on achieving victory over these rotten beasts.” 

As the battle goes through, it is revealed that this excavation site is where Zelda’s mother would often work and hang out with Urbosa. Urbosa says some stuff like “Her Majesty would not be happy to see all these monsters heading here!” *decapitates Moblin* and then she can say other dramatic stuff at the end like “We have fought well...for her memory” and other classic lesbian pining. Some guard at the end can say “Perhaps you should move on and help out somewhere else, Lady Urbosa. We can handle the clean up from here.” 

“Sure,” Urbosa replies, “Just another moment.” And then cue reminiscing. “She always did love these machines…”

And just other sentimental stuff like that. If you’re gonna be a coward and hold out on the Champion death angst, then you best be pumping that angst and emotion from somewhere, you know?

Also yay for worldbuilding! At least in my rewrite, the Guardian excavations and stuff were overseen by the Queen. Could be a reason Zelda hangs out with Sheikah tech so much...who knows who knows... who knows what other implications this has, it’s just a side quest after all.

Revali: Anti-Ice Training [get it??? Cause in this one, Revali’s gonna break the ice with some other characters?? I’m funny I swear]

Ok so for this one, I want to pull Revali’s character away from just “the birb that doesn’t like Link” and give him some other stuff to stand on. Obviously, there would be other side quests in a fully fleshed out game that did even more to characterize him, but for my rewrite I’m only dedicated this post and one other future post to sidequests, so I gotta really bring out what I can for the few side quest stories I have time to tell

Revali sets out alone to deal with some monsters by the Hebra trail. Although intended as an isolated moment to hone his skills, he finds himself with unexpected company. Defeat key enemies.

So you play as Revali and at first you’re alone, taking out Ice Lizalfos and the like. Revali’s text dialogue can say stuff like “Hmm...not fast enough” “My current needs to be stronger” “*mutters* Can’t compete with lightning and magma with aim like that.” Just stuff that establishes that he’s working hard to really prove himself as the best, but is still a bit insecure about his position. He thinks he’s better than Link, sure, and he certainly thinks that being a princess or a chief doesn’t automatically make you the best. However by this point, Revali has battled alongside the other Champions and seen their skill in battle, and has developed some respect for them. Afterall, Champions were chosen in some part for their skills, unlike Link or Zelda who destiny just thrust greatness upon. 

So Revali has this slight insecurity that compared to lightning, and magic healing, and magma, with chiefs and princesses and titles of heroes, he and his efforts will be overshadowed and forgotten, unfairly deemed the useless one. Thus, here he is, training in solitude, not wanting anyone to see the imperfections and mistakes until he is absolutely perfect.

Except for the fact that after you beat a Wizzrobe, the other three Champions show up. 

Revali: Wh—Huh?? What are you all doing here?

Urbosa: Well, we all have to travel with the princess to that Tower in a few hours, so I recommended we find you and hang out until then

Mipha: And a good thing too! Look how many monsters there are

Revali: I’m actually doing very well on my own right now. Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold or something, so why don’t you head on back and let me handle this.

Daruk: Aw, it’s not that we think you can’t do this. It’s that you’re hogging all the fun! Urbosa: And that it would be more efficient if all of us went to work

Daruk: That too

Revali: Look it’s not—you all can’t just—this is not just about—AUGH, look, I’m just trying to train myself at the moment, and I don’t need you all to mess with my drills

Urbosa: Training, hm? Well how about this...you let us continue helping you with these monsters, and after, I’ll let you in on a good Gerudo training technique

Revali: Hmph. Fine, whatever gets you out of my tail feathers faster

So Revali and the Champions clear out the monsters. Revali can have gambit attacks/dialogue with each of the other Champions. This is already incredibly long so perhaps I’ll save specifics for another time, feel free to use your imagination. Urbosa teasing Revali and they make a thunderstorm, Mipha and Revali swimming in the sky and kissing—wait that’s— 

When all the monsters are cleared, which honestly isn’t tooooo many, Revali speaks again.

Revali: So what’s this oh-so-holy technique you had in mind, then?

Urbosa: Ah yes, well really it’s quite simple. It’s called…

Urbosa: One-on-one combat

Now Revali fights Urbosa. It think it’d be really fun if your allies on a stage could swap to a boss, and I wish hwaoc had a bit more freedom with the interactions as a whole, but ah well, that’s what I’m here for I guess.

So when you/Revali defeat her, it’s a good accomplishment! Not only for you the player, as Urbosa would not be the easiest to beat, but also because match-up wise, Revali prevailing over Urbosa is a big feat as their styles are quite opposite, arguably with the strength in favour for Urbosa.

Revali might at first have the mindset that Urbosa is overconfident and thinks she’s got an easy win on Revali, but that mindset is quickly proven wrong when 1) the difficulty of the gameplay itself shows how they’re both doing their best and 2) Urbosa with her Gerudo qualities is probably shouting stuff like “give it your all!” and things.

And so, as you beat her...

Revali, kinda huffing and puffing, but just a bit:: ...you….held back

Urbosa: Come now, do you really think of me as someone who’d do that? I’m almost insulted.  

Revali: Hmm...perhaps not then....

Mipha: Wow! What a wonderful fight from both of you. 

And then insert some other dialogue from Daruk or something that shows the Champions acknowledging the training and hard work Revali must have put in to be so skilled. Perhaps it’s not so bad, when you train with others and your skill is fully appreciated by your frie—GAH. Perish the thought, they’re all just a bunch of royal fools who can’t hold a candle to the skill of a Rito Master….probably…

Revali: Well unlike you lax fools, I tend to take my job seriously. I don’t have time to longue and banter when the princess is still expecting me in an hour or two

Urbosa: Oh alright, let’s get to it then. What’s the expression? “The early bird gets the w—”

Revali: Gross. No. Don’t finish that sentence, I beg you. 

Urbosa: Oh? Well why don’t you fly off to escape my dreadful tones then?

Revali: ...Heh, don’t be absurd…

Revali: Without me, you’ll all probably get lost. So, I suppose I should stick around for that sake Great Fairies: Dress to Oppress 

The Great Fairies are holding a fashion competition and rating people’s outfits. Poorly judged outfits gives them the right to compensation combat. Defeat all your less than fashionable allies.

...

...yeah.

It seemed funny in my head, alright? cOme on, just imagine…

Revali, fully expecting to win: Well?

Great Fairies: Hm...I don’t know dear, all the colors are very clustered. Perhaps if you were taller—?

Revali: bWHAKT!? *other angry bird noises*

- - - 

Daruk: I brought my BEST out today! :D

Great Fairies: Is that a….chain?

Daruk: TWO chains, actually. :D

Great Fairies: Oh honey…

- - - 

Great Fairies: Ooo! Our little hero is about to come out! Wonder what he chose...a knight in shining armour? A handsome desert voe? Ooo!! And those Snowquill braids always made him look so cute…

Link: *comes out in the Tingle Outfit*

Great Fairies: …

Great Fairies: …………..hm…..

At the end of the side quest, after you beat everyone, the Great Fairy wins because of course they do. 

Great Fairies: Oh my! What an unexpected outcome...but it really couldn’t have gone any other way. I declare the judges the winner! I mean just look at me, I’m as dazzling as a jeweled desert flower, because I am! Ohohohoho…

This side quests unlocks the Tingle Outfit

Hestu: Forest Dance Festival

Alright this quest was already pretty perfect, BUT, I just want to use this opportunity to say that all of Hestu’s gambit attacks makes his allies and enemies do special dances. Absolutely abSURD that Hestu can only make the lesser smaller enemies dance on occasion, nonononono, my guy Hestu is making everyone dance. You can’t stop this. Nothing I say will ever top the imagination, so just take my word that this is a good thing. [Reluctant Revali doing the macarena against his will in sync with Hestu and they bash someone’s head in...ah the possibilities.] 

Maz Koshia: Links to the Past

Ok so before I get into this, a few things. This quest takes place well after the tower activations in Akkala. Age of Calamity leaves a whole lot of plots holes as to why a Monk is just...here, and what the point of the shrines are, and personally my first reaction to all this was just a five minute extended “huuhhhhhh???” 

So here is my headcanon, explanation, thing, canon to the world of the Kip Cut story. Ones all the Sheikah Towers were activated, that officially woke up all the Shrines, because we know that the Towers and Shrines are all connected to the same system. [See Great Plateau Tower activating all the Shrines and Towers, and Creating a Champion explanation on the system] But when all the monks were in their little altars and noticed how Link hadn’t dont a single one, they were like “what the fuck.” Monk Maz Koshia, who is kinda the head honcho of the monks and probably the only one powerful enough to go out in the world anyhow, sets out to see what the deal is, and after many a teleportation and telepathic communication, he figures out that Link is just running around with the Master Sword already. This kinda confuses him, because the whole point of the Shrines was to test Link and give him the spirit orbs so that he could grow strong enough to get the Master Sword, but he somehow already has it...so hmmmm something fishy is going on in this timeline. So Link technically hasn’t proven himself at all, Maz Koshia ambushes him, they do their little combat trial, Link passes, and Maz Koshia’s like “ok cool so you’re not useless.”

So now Monk Maz Koshia has cast aside his old monk duties of waiting around for a couple hundred years, in favour of just hanging out with Link and continuing to train him combat wise. Shrines are still explored by Zelda and co because they are important areas to establish teleportation pads, and whenever they’re there, Maz Koshia forces Link to get in a shrine to get a spirit orb, which is not only useful in general for health, but since Link already has the Master Sword, the other characters can get the spirit orb too. (So all those little heart upgrades that you see on the map, those are all just in the real Botw Shrine locations, rather than just scattered around randomly. Also I’m ignoring the stuff about talking to Hylia in order to exchange for stamina or heart containers because the game never talks about her, or stamina, and I’m not about to create an entirely new custom gameplay feature for this game, fuck you.)

I like to think that Maz Koshia is very selective about the Shrines he encourages people to try out. “Oh nonono, don’t bother with Qukah’s….lazy ass, only set up one little mountain that you have to blast through with lightning and that’s the entire puzzle! Disgraceful...Here, Kaam Ya’tak has set up a wonderful Trial of Power for you. I’m sure you’ll find the level design quite thrilling. They spent a lot of time on the critical thinking aspects so have fun!”

“I should warn you that this one was made by one of the millennials...yes, those youngins who were only initiated 1000 years of age. Honestly, they lack so much experience. Ms. Agana over here was experimenting with something called ‘motion controls?’ Pretty lazy if you ask me. Traditionally I would just stick to combat and block and switch stuff...but ah well, variety I suppose.”

Right, what was I talking about? Oh right! This is a sidequest. So Monk Maz Koshia doesn’t really have...a character??? Or a personality??? So I don’t really know what to do with him other than use him as an outlet for world building. Apologies to the Monk….fuckers? Stans? Feel free to leave me a comment about how I missed all the nuances of his character or something I’m all ears.

On an expedition to mark more Shrines and establish more teleports for the Kingdom, a large horde of monsters is spotted, seemingly with the intention to destroy these Ancient relics. Link and Maz Koshia use this opportunity to sharpen their combat skills. Protect the stronghold and defeat key enemies.

And then that quest would just kinda echo the stuff I said earlier about the world. (As Maz Koshia defends a Shrine, somewhere Qukah Nata is smugly shouting “Bet you wish ALL of them were protected with a giant mountain now, do ya?)

Also Link and Maz Koshia’s gambit attack involves the Master Cycle. I don’t have the specifics, but damn if I want some call backs to Botw while also having fun.

Impa: Steal Yourself [Yiga Clan Escape]

In an act of pure hatred and malice, the Yiga Clan has snuck into Kakariko Village in the dead of night…and stolen all the Swift Carrots! Impa sets out to get them back, as well as taking something else as a form of swift revenge...Escape before the time runs out.

Ok I can explain.

So you know how the Yiga and the Sheikah have kiiiiinda been murdering each other a bunch in Botw, going as far as to kill a deserter’s wife and threatening to murder his kids, and also people on both sides were sorta massacred for no reason? And alsoooo one of those people who literally lived during that time of the massacre is just kinda floating around now?  And you knooooooooww how the Yiga Clan just kinda joins Zelda’s side later on and we’re not supposed to think about the implications of that too hard because they’re the funny banana ninjas, haha? Yeah well neither Age of Calamity or I really have time to explore the moral grey areas of an alliance between two warring factions, one of which has a leader who doesn’t really seem to remember the reason why they hate Hyrule which brings into question whether the lackeys even know their clan’s history, and brings about the moral dilemma of criminalizing the ignorant, and also there’s the whole other dilemma of depicting the side that submitted to their oppression as being “in the right” and the topic of a race of people being pitted against their own by a higher power is really brushed over sO WE’RE JUST GONNA TOSS ALL THAT OUT THE WINDOW AND MAKE THEM ACT LIKE RIVALLING HIGH SCHOOLS, OKAY? OKAY! This is fine this is fine— 

So I have dubbed the High School mascot of the Sheikah, the Swift Carrot. And although there does seem to be some internal debate about whether the carrot should be replaced by the Fortified Pumpkin, the hero of Hyrule Link favours carrots so that’s that. Then of course, the mascot for the Yiga Clan is the Mighty Banana. The two sides hate each other and steal their food symbols to be petty. I’ll be covering the side quests of Kohga and the other later characters in another later post, but just know that Kohga will have his banana heist sidequest too. 

So anyhow, you play as Impa. Maybe she can say a piece of dialogue or two about how she has to uphold the image of her people as she has to lead them one day. And then, this side quest is just her retrieving the carrots and running off with the Yiga’s big banana supply before she’s caught. This is based on that “Escape the Yiga Clan” quest if you couldn’t tell.

Custom gambit defeat of Impa vs Kohga: On one hand I think it would be badass to see Impa’s Sheikah skills go up against the Yiga Clan tactics. Kohga summons a giant metal ball to throw, Impa teleports behind him “nothing personal, kid” nO fuck I’m doing it again away goes to swing a blade at his face. He blocks it with his little energy shield thing, but not before an entire conga line of Impa clones start slashing at him until he’s defeated by a giant explosion. So yeah, that’d be badass and cool. But on the other hand…

Kohga, stomping his feet and having a fit: I cARROT believe you would do something this terrible! Give us back those bananas right now! D: ….please? You can keep the gross orange sticks.

Sooga: He asked nicely. You wouldn’t deny the wishes of the most polite and charming Yiga Chief there is, would you?

Impa: No can do, Yiga scum! I’m afraid this cruel action wasn’t veggie nice of you so I must exact justice! Now it’s my time to split. *Impa clones gather and throw Kohga into a giant frog’s mouth. Impa runs off with a sack of fruit [fruit (derogatory) if you will] cackling into the horizon*

Zelda: The Path She Laid For You

The King has order Zelda to head to the Temple of Time, in order to see if anything there could help awaken her powers. Zelda sets off quietly, with minimal company, as not to attract too much attention lest the Town’s folk be hit with another attack. It seems, however, that these precautions won’t be enough...Defeat key enemies

So this is a pure Zelda sidequest, with no other characters except for eggbot because I said so. Starts out normal when SURPRISE! Bunch of monsters appear and Zelda has to whip out her iphone and fight them. 

Also!! Good time for the Hollows to show up, and you know, tell her what a failure she is and all that. Convince her that she's useless and gonna doom everyone. All that good stuff!! It’s just nice to catch up with the villains and see how they’re doing, you know? ‘Sup Hollow Urbosa, last I saw you were barely spitting words in the Lost Woods, and now you’re giving full hard-hitting insults to Zelda’s character and ability? Good for you, Queen, good for you.

So Zelda and a handful of guards are fighting off monsters, and Zelda has to beat the Hollows too. Her gambit dialogue when she defeats Hollows can be stuff like “You’re not the real ___” or something idk, I don’t have a lot of experience with the evil clone trope, I’ve never played Ocarina of Time. But one specific I DO want to highlight is that Zelda uses the nearby Sheikah Tech to defeat the enemies. I find it a bit weird how Zelda just knows how to use those random water canons in the Faron region in later chapters, so we’re just gonna at least set up a pattern so that it makes a bit more sense later. Plus! This is in front of the Great Plateau, AKA Gate Post Town/Garrisons AKA oh lOOK it’s that area where Link and Impa and eggbot first meet in that Impa introduction scene of my rewrite so we have already established that Sheikah Technology is being stored here and ready to use! Continuity in world building! Nice.

So Zelda uses her knowledge of Sheikah Tech to defeat the Hollows, when...dun dun dun! Astor appears. But you don’t fight him...

Astor: Have you listened to one word spoken to you today? Why are you still resisting? Let me help you.

Zelda: And what exactly is your plan? You wish to kill me, then?

Astor: Not quite. I mean, if you do die, there are ways I can manage, so if some stray Yiga blade happens to strike you I’m not completely doomed.

Astor: But no, the most optimal outcome for everyone is the one where you live yet. You must see the truth as I do, and let me fix this. I can undo this terrible knot destiny has thread for you. [and insert other fate sisters and sewing metaphors here]

Zelda: But how? What’s your game here, if you’re truly claiming to be in everyone’s best interest then why all this secrecy?

Astor: Ah...ever the one to look for the facts and logic, hmm? Can’t blame you, you get it straight from your mother.

Zelda: …!

Astor: But...I’m afraid even if I did tell you now, you’re in no state to truly grasp it. No...the only way this works is for you to truly understand the position you're in, and the stakes that hang in the path before you. 

Astor: And if I have to kill every King, Champion, or knight to get you to understand…

Astor: Then so be it. 

[dun dun dun]

Zelda: No! I won’t let you hurt anyone, I swear it!

Eggbot [just pretend eggbot can have dialogue boxes too]: *chirps* 

Astor, suddenly noticing eggbot: ...You…you’re one thing I still don’t—

Eggbot chirps again beside Zelda, both seeming to be angry at Astor’s words. Eggbot releases a glowing flash of light. Kinda like a...flash bang? [is that the right word idk]

Astor: Ah—! *and he teleports away to escape* Astor: Until next time then...Princess

And that’s pretty much the sidequest. Zelda can question what exactly eggbot did, but he’s not exactly the most verbal in responses. Finally it ends with Zelda going home, “He was still right though...I’m still sitting in failure, with not a hint of my powers awakening. All I have is some Sheikah tech, some exhausted shoulders….and well, you, I suppose, little one.”

“Come, it’d be a waste to continue forth in this condition. Let’s go back to the castle.”

Eggbot: *happy whistles and chirps*

= = = = = 

Tune in next time folks, as we dive back into the main event! Needless to say, Chapter 4 is where the shit starts to go down...

[welllpthisishappening]

The Couples That We Know

Technically speaking, they’re not supposed to be dating. Each other, at least. 

For Killian Jones, there are plenty of reasons to like working at Pendragon Publishing. Good pay, vaguely acceptable benefits, not-that-bad coffee in the break room. But there are also some things he kind of, sort of...hates. Namely the way dating his co-worker is possibly against the rules, and how that means they can’t go to the annual holiday party. Together, at least. 

So, enlisting the help of their best friends only makes sense. Pretend to date other people, avoid any hint of suspicion, and drink all the wine Pendragon’s party-planning committee can offer them. Perfect plan, really. 

----

Rating: Still teen, still with some kissing Word Count: 6.1K AN: As promised, the onslaught of Christmas fic continues. This one somehow has secret dating and fake dating because I know no trope limits. Also it almost sort of follows the prompt @the-girl-in-the-band-tshirt​​ sent in, which was "we’ve been celebrating our wedding anniversary on the wrong day for the past nine years." Attempts to follow the prompt were almost made. 

Also on Ao3 if that’s your Christmas jam. 

----

“You know, for this to work, you’ve got to actually stop staring at her. At least without quite so much palpable longing.” Opening his mouth, Killian has every intention of announcing how little he’s staring, but that would be a rather awful lie and it’s probably wrong to lie at Christmas. Or at least two and a half weeks before. Plus, Mary Margaret’s face makes even the thought of saying whatever he hadn’t entirely come up with impossible. 

“You going to give me detention?” “I’m seriously considering it.” He sighs. Dramatically. Nearly lets his chin slump towards his chest, which would add more than a fair share of melo to that aforementioned drama, and—“You think this is a dumb idea?” Mary Margaret’s eyes widen. 

Her lips practically disappear when she pushes them together that way, and Killian has to bite the side of his tongue so he doesn’t make some sort of teacher-based quip again. He really cannot afford to get sent to detention. Metaphorical, or otherwise. 

“There’s no possible way for me to tell you, again, how dumb this idea is,” Mary Margaret says, and that might be the most scathing string of words he’s ever heard out of her. Telling Emma suddenly becomes something of a necessity, and that’s a problem. 

The crux of their problem, really. 

Eyes flitting up, Killian ignores the wholly out-of-character sound Mary Margaret lets out when his gaze darts across the room and lingers on hair that’s looking shinier than usual, as if it’s trying to distract him and overwhelm him, and both things happening simultaneously is almost too much for his brain to deal with. When he’s had two glasses of wine, already. 

It’s not the best wine, actually. Killian’s not surprised. Pendragon Publishing is not especially well known for its money-spending efforts, and the annual holiday party is no different. Funded by some half-hearted party committee, that is very likely controlled by just one person, that same person does not appear to have an eye for decorating. If the copious amount of mistletoe hanging everywhere is any indication. 

And the whole thing exists to drive Killian insane. Both the mistletoe, and the party. Or so he will argue. When Mary Margaret inevitably points out what a dumb idea this is, again. 

She’s totally going to say it again. 

“It’s going to work,” Killian mutters, but it sounds inherently unenthusiastic, and Mary Margaret’s eyes cannot widen anymore. They’ll fall out. Which will cause a scene, he imagines. 

And they’re trying to avoid that. 

Or, well—avoid breaking the rules, technically. They don’t want to do that. Because Pendragon might host shitty holiday parties, but it’s one of the most well-known agencies in the Tri-State area, and both Killian and Emma like their jobs. They like each other too. 

Deciding to date wasn’t really part of the plan. But she makes him smile, and he considers the ability to make her consistently laugh one of his better talents, and they’re really good at kissing each other. Which is something they’ve been doing for far longer than anyone realizes. Months, actually. With post-work dinners, and weekends spent together, and Killian has started to find it harder and harder to leave her apartment in the morning, because he keeps staying at her apartment all night, and not proclaiming several rather life-altering strings of words is becoming more and more difficult. 

Which brings them right back to the crux of the problem. Pendragon’s holiday party, and its presumably boxed wine, and dating other employees isn’t explicitly mentioned in the employee handbook, but it’s very likely frowned upon and showing up here together wasn’t a feasible option. No matter how much he wanted it to be. 

Showing with other people, though. That made sense. 

It made—sense adjacent. 

“Did I tell you that you look nice?” Tilting her head, Mary Margaret’s gaze turns appraising and she wasn’t particularly pleased about having to take her ring off. It hangs on a chain that’s only occasionally fallen over the front of her dress, and David thought the whole thing was hysterical. 

He sent “Mary Margaret 101” facts to Killian all week. 

“You don’t have to actually woo me,” Mary Margaret counters, but there’s a bit of color on her cheeks that doesn’t have anything to do with the heat in this rented loft. It’s very warm. 

“No woo’ing, just facts. Should that dress look familiar, though?” “Depends on how often you’re rummaging around the back corner of Emma’s closet.” “Not that often, but—” Mary Margaret nods before he can get the rest of the question out, smiling over the top of her glass. Filled nearly to the brim with wine that may actually be capable of eroding paint. It’s so bad. That’s probably not a metaphor for anything. 

“You’ve really got to stop staring, it makes you look like a crazy person,” she adds, and to prove how capable he is of following direction Killian’s does the exact opposite. Back towards his girlfriend, and there wasn’t really a ton of planning before they dove into the deep end of this totally legitimate, absolutely will not blow up in their face plan. 

Will’s arm is slung over Emma’s shoulders. “Can’t clench your jaw like that, either,” Mary Margaret mutters. Keeping the laugh out of her voice is seemingly impossible. 

And rolling his whole head is juvenile, but Killian’s starting to feel a little drunk. Without any of the fun benefits. His head hurts. “Should have come up with a list.” “I could if you want.” “I do not, no.” Mary Margaret’s smile is a hint more honest, that time. It really is a nice dress. “That’s what I figured,” she says, tugging on his tie familiarly. “But you look like you’re going to challenge your own best friend to a duel.” “Swords are a requirement for that, aren’t they?” “Alexander Hamilton.” “Excuse me?” “Dueled with pistols, so—” “—Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays?” Snickering, Mary Margaret bumps her hip with his and there are at least ten unopened texts from David on Killian’s phone. Demanding update for what he was regularly referring to The Great Idiot Romance of 2020 . Although, he never mentioned that in front of Emma. 

Who very likely would have won that duel, should it have occurred. 

“Alright,” Mary Margaret sighs, like she hasn’t already agreed to a whole night of this, “we should probably mingle, if we’re going to make this look legit.” “Say legit again, please.” She sticks her tongue out. 

“Not a very good argument, Ms. Blanchard,” he chuckles, shifting his hand to the small of her back and he supposes he should eat something. To sop up all the wine. Her expression doesn’t change. Might get more scowl-like, if anything. 

And there’s likely no reason for Emma’s neck to twist the way it does, except something else vaguely melodramatic that Killian cannot think about for the next four hours, but she does and he stands up a little straighter. Presumably, at least. Mary Margaret’s reproachful tongue click is very loud. 

But then Emma’s eyes are widening as well, and her lips are slightly twisted and Killian does a God awful job of winking at her. 

He swears he can hear laugh — across the whole loft. Four hours at this stupid thing, max. Then he’s going to make out with his girlfriend. For possibly four hours straight. Which he imagines is a record of some sort. 

“Food,” Mary Margaret declares, fingers back on his tie and she makes him eat four bacon-covered somethings before they leave the table. 

To mingle. As is required by polite society and Mary Margaret Blanchard soon-to-be Nolan, and Killian quickly loses track of the number of people they smile at and the few others they nod in the general direction of, and he really should have been better prepared soon-to-be to evolve into a problem. He’s not. And Aurora’s gasp catches him off guard.  

“Oh,” she cries, hands flying to her cheeks in the middle of a group of editors congregated by the floor-to-ceiling windows, and at least that’s kind of picturesque. “I didn’t know you were engaged, Killian!”

Every one of his muscles tenses. Freezes, making Killian’s ability to stay upright all the more impressive, and it’s nothing except instinct when his gaze practically flies towards Emma. 

Who immediately tugs her lips behind her teeth, Will’s eyes widening to a size that would be comical in any other situation. 

Mary Margaret’s jaw works — trying to find an excuse, or an explanation, but there’s not any of those things and Killian finds himself nodding again. “Yeah, yeah,” he stammers, “that’s, uh—we are totally engaged.”

“Selling it,” Mary Margaret murmurs through clenched teeth, and he considers it an exceptionally large miracle that he doesn’t point that out. She’s not doing a good job of playing her role now, either. 

Aurora doesn’t notice. Another miracle. ‘Tis the season, or whatever. “So,” she presses, “have you set a date or—” Strictly speaking, biology was never one of Killian’s better school subjects, but he’s starting to wonder just how much stress the muscles in his neck can continue to cope with, and he’s all too aware of how much he’s beginning to resemble a bobblehead.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, we’re, uh—” Licking his lips doesn’t help their overall state, floundering under the expectant stare of half a dozen coworkers who are now heavily invested in a wholly fake relationship, and Mary Margaret’s hand threatens to crack several of his knuckles. When she laces her fingers through his. 

“Thinking next winter,” she says, sounding more honest than anything else they’ve told these people. “City’s basically all decorated for us, already, you know?”

Aurora does know, it seems. 

Her nod isn’t as erratic as Killian’s, is far more enthusiastic — complete with wide eyes that practically announce her interest, and the hammering of his heart against his ribcage makes it difficult to hear the footsteps that are moving towards them. 

Will looks far too entertained. 

Emma’s lips are still missing in action. “Couldn’t help but overhear,” Will drawls, and the duel is starting to sound very appealing, “sounds like congratulations are in order.” He’s going to kill him. Killian’s going to let go of Mary Margaret’s impressively tight grip, and he’s going to use both of his hands to strangle his best friend. Or at least ensure that he’s deprived of enough oxygen that he doesn’t continue talking. 

He will enjoy it. Thoroughly. 

Lifting her eyebrows when neither Mary Margaret nor Killian respond to this supposed stranger’s proclamation, Emma’s exhale is inappropriately loud. Rife with guilt, and an emotion Killian can’t quite name because being jealous of her best friend’s engagement to someone else is as absurd as anything they’ve done tonight, but it’s also kind of nice and— “Aurora, this is Will,” Emma introduces, and he’s actually got the gall to smirk in Killian’s direction. Before thrusting his hand forward, smiling a bit more good-naturedly at Aurora, who only looks slightly confused. 

That’s fair. 

All of this is flying off the rails, and Killian briefly considers how much of a scene it would cause if he barreled into the kitchen demanding better alcohol choices. It’s probably not worth it. 

“Nice to meet you,” Aurora says, like an actual human. With normal, human thought processes and presumably fewer holiday-based lies to deal with. “We were just talking about Killian and Mary Margaret’s wedding.”

Blood floods his mouth, and Killian’s only slightly worried about running out of tongue to bite before the night is over. Mary Margaret’s fingers somehow tighten even more, threatening the blood flow to his entire right hand, and Emma is very interested in the state of her shoes. 

“That’s absolutely what it sounded like,” Will grins, “when’s the happy day?” Glaring without making it obvious is actually difficult. Killian widens his eyes, but that only makes the width of Will’s mouth increase — like some literary cat, and Emma’s eyes keep closing for prolonged periods of time. Like at least several seconds. 

“Next winter,” Killian bites out, “we’re getting married next winter.” “Decided on a location, yet? Gotta get that stuff in early from what I’ve heard.” “Have you just?”

Will nods, shoulders shifting ever so slightly. Like he’s trying very hard not to laugh. It’s not entirely working. 

Maybe they should apologize to Aurora. 

“Oh yeah, yeah,” Will says, “wedding industry’s cutthroat like that. Plan months in advance, and even then you might not get your first choice.” “That’s definitely true,” Aurora agrees, and maybe Killian will just topple over. Sit down on the floor and drink an entire box of wine, and he doesn’t think anyone else notices when Emma pinches the bridge of her nose. “When Phillip and I got married, we went through a couple different venues before we found one that worked with our date.” “Sounds hectic,” Killian mumbles. Talking was a mistake. His voice doesn’t even sound like his own, Emma’s gaze snapping up in unspoken warning, and he’s worried he’s using up his miracle supply. So as not to cry out at the overall force of Mary Margaret’s fingers. 

All five of which were apparently blessed with mutant-type strength. 

“Luckily we’ve got that covered,” she says, brightly and only a little disingenuous. 

Emma blinks. “Yeah?” “Yup. Did you know you can get a permit for a Central Park wedding for like fifteen bucks?” “Wow, that’s—that sounds really nice, actually.” “Depends on whether or not it snows, but—” Mary Margaret shrugs, and none of them are lying anymore. Well, at least not quite as blatantly as five seconds before. Will’s smile almost looks legitimate. 

“You’re thinking of an outdoor wedding?” Aurora asks. “In the winter?” Another shrug, hints of color rising on Mary Margaret’s cheeks. “Early December, and we probably won’t be outside for very long. Mostly just the ceremony, and some of the pictures. There’s a certain kind of romanticism to the city in December, isn’t there?” Aurora doesn’t look overly convinced. Killian barely notices — is admittedly very preoccupied with the look on Emma’s face, and how it almost feels a little wistful and maybe just as romantic and not kissing her is somehow a victory and loss all at the same time. 

“You know,” Aurora says slowly, like she’s about to impart a crucial piece of information on them, “if we’re being honest, I am actually surprised this is happening.” One of Killian’s fingers flutters. Where it’s tangled with Mary Margaret’s, and Emma hasn’t blinked in years. Possibly longer. “Weddings? Or another wonderful event put on by Pendragon?”

“Bet they didn’t try and find this venue that far in advance,” Will mumbles. Emma closes her eyes. That’s like—half a blink, at least. 

Aurora shakes her head, still looking far more serious than the situation requires. “No, no, no, well...you and Emma are always together at work, aren’t you?”

Breathing is a challenge. 

Gritting his teeth less so, the overall tension in Killian’s jaw threatening to do permanent damage. Emma hasn’t opened her eyes yet. 

“We’re friends,” he reasons, and if he were actually engaged to Mary Margaret he’d be almost offended by this whole conversation. 

Lying likely robs him of any right to relationship-based offense, though. 

“Oh no, no, I know,” Aurora says, without sounding entirely honest, “and I’m sure it’ll be a gorgeous wedding. Just—if we had to guess, I think most people at Pendragon would have thought it’d be the two of you.” If nothing else, this night has provided a massive insight into all the facial expressions Mary Margaret is capable of making. At least half a dozen that Killian was previously unaware of, including the current one — a mix of disgust and appropriate scandal, and Killian resists the urge to point out that he and Emma probably couldn’t date, even if they wanted to, which they are, but that’s...that’s beside the point. 

Entirely. Like a different hemisphere from the point.

Aurora gives a tight-lipped smile.

“When did you and—” Will clicks his teeth, effectively redirecting the conversation. “—Phillip, was it?” Aurora hums. “Guessing you two didn’t get married in the winter, did you?” Whatever else she says gets lost in the buzz between Killian’s ears, the overall state of his heart continuing to threaten the structural integrity of his ribs, and Mary Margaret gives his hand several squeezes. To recapture his attention and whatever professionalism he’s barely clinging to, and she’d been right about romanticism. 

Of which he’s clearly bordering on hopeless at this point. 

Emma smiles. 

And Aurora excuses herself eventually — Phillip appearing like an unknowing brunette knight in conversational-armor, all four of them nearly exhaling in tandem. 

“So,” Will says, “scale of one to ten, how much did we suck at that?” “A forty-seven,” Mary Margaret replies, head lolling onto Killian’s shoulder while he finally lets out the scoff that’s been bubbling in the center of his throat.

“Next winter, huh? For real?” She makes a noise that’s presumably some sort of agreement, and Emma’s smile doesn’t waver. “Thinking about it. If Scarlet will double check with Belle about taking pictures in front of the library.” “Public property,” he replies, “don’t have to double check.” “But can we go inside at some point?” Killian asks. 

“Wimping out about temperature already?” “Expressing concerns, like Aurora who is—” “—A wedding genius, apparently,” Emma mutters, and Mary Margaret’s shoulders shake. She still hasn’t touched her wine. Eventually that will prove important. 

“Got a lot of opinions when it comes to other people’s plans, at least.”

“Eh,” Will argues, “did we give her much of a chance to delve into those opinions, or was Killian too busy making eyes at Emma?”

Continuing to open his mouth without actually saying any words is frustrating. For Killian. And the state of his heart, which cannot seem to find a rhythm anymore. Especially when Emma flushes, and threatens to stare a hole into the floor and of the two dresses she owns that are currently making the rounds at this party, the one she’s actually wearing is better. 

Probably because she’s wearing it. 

“I told you,” Mary Margaret grumbles, without any of her previous ability to chastise. She sounds almost amused. 

“Although,” Will adds, “Emma’s not doing much better, so—” Huffing out a breath only serves to flutter the few strands of hair that frame either side of Emma’s face, and that’s only vaguely messing with Killian’s perception of...reality, maybe. “Ok, you do not get to point out my own,” she leans closer, like that will help the volume of her next few words, “fake relationship shortcomings.” “Why not? It’s making all of this endlessly entertaining.” “I’m a better fake date than you,” Mary Margaret says. “You had to use your own wedding plans because you can’t take your ring off.” “That is nice!” People likely don’t turn the way Killian’s brain has already convinced him they do, but every one of Emma’s teeth is visible when she grits them like that and both of their potentially-obvious fake dates look properly ashamed. 

“Sorry,” Will grumbles, while Mary Margaret twists her heel and whispers, “no more wedding talk, I promise.” Emma laughs. That’s—surprising. And it’s not quite the laugh Killian’s also started claiming as his, but that feels almost possessive, and she’s definitely carrying less tension between her shoulders than he is. “I think that ship has sailed,” she says. “Should have thought about your outfit beforehand.” “Killian likes the dress,” Mary Margaret smiles. 

“Yeah, well Killian likes me, so…” Tugging Emma against his side, Will lets out another noise that will only garner them more attention, and people are starting to dance. The party fund could not afford a band. Or a DJ. Or anything more than what sounds like slightly muffled speakers and someone’s Spotify premium account. Killian hopes it’s premium, at least. 

Hearing ads in the middle of this instrumental Christmas music might be the last straw. For his sanity.  

“Well,” Will says, “if Mary Margaret’s going to start planning weddings, then I guess I do have to step my game up. C’mon, Em—let’s show ‘em what we’ve got.”

“And what do we have, exactly?” “Impeccable rhythm, and the lingering knowledge of a Groupon dance class.” “Do people still use Groupon?” Emma challenges, and Killian loves her an absolutely ridiculous amount. For several thousand things, but at this very moment, it’s mostly how her voice causes Will’s eyes to bug again and his tongue to poke between his lips and maybe the whole night isn’t a total disaster. He should tell her he loves her. 

Sooner rather than later. 

“My girlfriend,” Will replies, “who will totally be able to sneak Mary Margaret and David into the New York Public Library to avoid frostbite and ensure very pretty pictures, presumably on that fancy staircase they’ve got.” “Nothing sets the tone for a winter wedding like some casual breaking and entering,” Killian says, barely containing his grunt when Mary Margaret’s foot shifts. On top of his. 

Emma rolls her eyes. 

They’re just playing the soundtrack to A Charlie Brown Christmas now. 

“We’d appreciate whatever rules Belle could break for us,” Mary Margaret promises, “and will not mention that she’s the only person still using Groupon. Like, in the world.”

Will’s tongue is going to dry out. “Get on my fake date level, almost-Nolan.” “Shout that louder, please,” Emma groans. “And does the staircase not have a name? Fancy staircase cannot possibly be the acceptable vernacular.” “Probably not, because no one actual uses the word vernacular in actual conversation. Now you’re just trying to show off.” “Sound suspiciously like you’re impressed with my vast vocabulary, Scarlet.”

“Product of your profession.” “Grand, I think,” Killian says, fully prepared for Emma’s slightly parted lips. He will argue he’s prepared, at least. One of his knees does threaten to buckle though, and Will’s current eye-roll rate cannot possibly be healthy. 

“The profession?”

“The staircase.”

“Oh. That’s pretty lame, actually. It doesn’t have like a—staircase sponsor?” “Not that I’m aware of, but the entrance hall is called Astor Hall.” “Similar to the place of the same name?” Will quips. “Or—” “—The guy from the Titanic?” Mary Margaret finishes. “Why do you know about this?”

Killian lifts one shoulder. The one not currently providing rest for Mary Margaret’s head. “I know everything, a good fake-girlfriend would know that.” “And a legitimate girlfriend would dispute that,” Emma says, “plus, the Astors own or have endowed like half of New York. This is not impressive knowledge, and don’t get Mary Margaret talking about Titanic, she’ll start waxing poetic about Leonardo DiCaprio.” “I do have a longstanding crush on Leonardo DiCaprio,” Mary Margaret admits. “If I start quoting things about a real party and point out that Kate Winslet was willing to dance, will that get you guys to move?” Will demands. “Because we’re starting to draw attention and that’s probably not going to help our quest.” “It’s a quest now?” Killian asks. 

“Way more dramatic that way, so yeah.” “Please don’t start quoting Titanic at me,” Emma requests, pulling on the front of Will’s jacket and it’s a testament to their dedication to this ridiculous plan, or quest, that he wore a jacket. No matter how bad a plan it might be. 

Or quest. Whatever, honestly. 

“Alright,” she continues, “show off the lessons, or I’ll make fun of you for the foreseeable future.” Will winks. Not well, but possibly better than Killian is capable of, and he’s going to blame the wine. “Prepare to be absolutely wowed, m’dear.”

Rolling her eyes doesn’t do anything to shift the smile off Emma’s face, although she does look at Killian before she moves and the jealousy clouding his overall sense of being is as antiquated as the music and as absurd as anything else. 

Impressive, considering their overall barometer for absurd. 

“When do you think Aurora got married?” Killian asks, rolling his head towards a sympathetic-looking Mary Margaret. “Spring? June? That’s cliché, right?” “June,” she echoes. “Probably required her dozen bridesmaids to help her hand-make table favors, too. Just to really drive the point home. You want something else to drink?” “Yes, obviously.” Narrowing her eyes slightly when she nods, makes it more difficult to look at her — but that might also have something to do with the amount of alcohol Killian’s already consumed, and he really does appreciate how often Mary Margaret keeps making him eat. Even when it appears everything on this catering menu comes with bacon. “Don’t do that, ok?” he asks, at least two of their allotted four party-hours later. 

She lifts her eyebrows. “Keep texting my fiancé?” “Maybe you are the worse fake date.” “Well, you’re speaking in tongues now, so—” Shrugging, Mary Margaret’s shoulder doesn’t collide with Killian’s, but he’s also starting to feel a little buzzed. And hating bacon. And possibly happiness. On principle. 

Will and Emma keep dancing. Which also keeps them from having to interact with anyone else, but his buzzed-mind doesn’t care, and this whole thing was mostly his idea and that’s starting to really annoy him. 

That might be his base setting at this point.

“Bacon,” Killian clarifies, “don’t allow the national obsession with bacon to affect your food decisions when you—” Footsteps move by them, curious eyes and he’s not a frog, so his blood cannot possibly run cold. Plus, it’s honestly way too warm in this room. “We,” he amends, somehow rushing over two letters, and Mary Margaret noticeably sags against his side. “What was that about this being a dumb idea?” “Ah, getting fired at Christmas-time sucks. How will you buy us all presents, then?” Laughing helps loosen the knot of emotion that’s been growing increasingly tight in Killian’s chest, and the ends of Mary Margaret’s lips quirk up when he kisses the top of her hair. “Bacon is vastly overrated, though,” she adds, “people are obsessed with it.” “It’s weird, right?” “Definitely. Should I apologize for getting you engaged against your will?” Kissing her hair again is easier than responding, because responding might force Killian to contend with a lot of life-type plans he’s only half concocted, and he really should tell Emma he loves her first. Like, more than he realized. 

Until he had to pretend he didn’t. 

“Nah, but you can explain it to David because I don’t want my story to get interrupted when he inevitably starts laughing.” “You wanna dance?” Smirking at her does not have the same effect it has on Emma. And that’s definitely a good thing, but Killian’s drifting towards melancholy and the music isn’t instrumental anymore. Michael Bublé is a Christmas requirement, though. 

He flips his wrist. 

“Sweep you off your feet, Miss Blanchard.” She’s closing in on Will for number of pointed, if not passably amused, eye rolls. Still, Mary Margaret’s hand lands in his, and Emma’s eyes definitely drift towards them — which is as bad as it is good, and Michael Bublé’s version Santa Baby might actually be the worst thing that’s happened to any of them. All night. 

“Not exactly the pinnacle of music, is it?” Killian mumbles, and Mary Margaret hasn’t stepped on his foot. Or pointed out how close they linger to Will and Emma, both of whom look as unenthused by the music choices. 

And maybe it’s because he keeps staring, or possibly because Will is not the asshole he likes to pretend to be, but Killian is not entirely prepared for his friend to spin his fake date closer, or mutter something about cutting in that makes Mary Margaret laugh and Emma’s jaw drop and she steps on his foot. 

It’s the best thing that’s happened to him. All night. 

“We are not good at this,” Emma says, but she doesn’t sound all that upset about it and the buzz between his ears lessens. Turns into something warm and hopeful, and she’s close enough that he can smell her shampoo. 

“Something to be said for effort though, right?” “I’m not sure we’re making much of an effort.”

Nosing at her hair proves her point, but Killian’s—an idiot, and willing to blame romance, and the holiday season, and all the wine. So much. Even more bacon. God, he hates bacon. “Scarlet’s not subtle. And you look incredible.” “Do those sentiments go together?” “No,” Killian answers, “but true all the same.” “Flattery will get you everywhere.” Twirling her away, only to bring her back just as quickly, Killian doesn’t try very hard to avoid the smirk. So, he’s kind of a glutton too. For punishment, and poorly-timed emotions, and there’s a rather obvious glint in Emma’s eyes that leaves him breathless. Plus, she sort of slams back into his chest. “God,” she grumbles, “lacking some grace, huh?” “Eh, we’ll get there.” “Will we just?” He only realizes what he’s said when he notices the way her voice drops — rasped between lips that are redder than usual, and difficult to hear over goddamn Michael Bublé, and he’s totally staring at her lips. Obviously, he’s sure. “Yeah,” Killian nods. “Guaranteed.”

Part of him worries. Suddenly, Immediately. Overwhelming—ly. But Emma doesn’t move, and they’re more swaying than dancing now, and Mary Margaret’s footsteps are rushed. In a dramatic, everything is blowing up sort of way. 

That sucks, admittedly. 

“What are you—” Emma starts, but Mary Margaret just shakes her head. Yanking on Killian’s sleeve, she threatens to rip the fabric and he’s never heard her use any of those words. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she hisses. 

Killian tilts his head. “Be more specific.”

“Lance Sinqua is here. Is he supposed to be here? Why didn't either of you tell me he was going to be here?”

“He works in acquisitions, I think.” “I thought you knew everything,” Emma teases, and he has to bite the other side of his tongue. To stop from kissing her. 

Making out, more like. “I’ve had a lot of wine,” Killian reasons, “Should I be more concerned about why Sinqua being at his own holiday party is a problem?” Swatting at his side with both hands, Mary Margaret all but snarls. Emma looks appropriately surprised. “I know him,” Mary Margaret says, pausing between every word for emphasis. “And he has seen me.” What feels like the weight of several words and half a dozen ridiculous plans and/or quests fall into the pit of Killian’s stomach. Where they immediately crush a variety of internal organs. “Will’s distracting him now,” Mary Margaret explains, “but—he doesn’t know David personally, just that I’ve got a boyfriend—” “—Fiancé,” Emma corrects lightly, but the tone changes again and Killian’s never gone into shock before. He assumes it feels suspiciously like this. 

“I do not care; at all. Just—Killian, you’ve got to come. Now. Like right now.”

Nodding hurts his neck again, but Killian’s legs move on their own and his hand finds Mary Margaret’s and thinking about the look on Emma’s face isn’t healthy. Makes him want to stand on a table, or something equally absurd. Shout several things from several different rooftops, and he wonders if she’ll have to wear a red dress for the wedding. 

The real one, not whatever one he and Mary Margaret are going to lie about.

And to his credit, Will’s attempts to run distraction do look admirable. Moving hands and a nearly legitimate smile, while Lance nods in interest and continued conversation, and Killian squeezes Mary Margaret’s hand. In what he hopes is solidarity. 

“Hey,” Will exhales, as soon as he sees them, “here he is.” Killian’s cheeks ache. “Present and accounted for. You must be Lance, Mary Margaret said you’re old friends.” “Ah, I don’t know about old,” Lance objects, “but certainly the rest of it. I didn’t know she’d be here, would have asked you guys for drinks before or something.”

There’s really no word for the sound Mary Margaret makes at that. Part squeak, and what sounds like an admission, but that says a lot more about Killian’s growing guilt and residual jealousy and—

“How long have you two been engaged?” 

Racking his brain, Killian’s had too much to drink for this. He’s dimly aware of Mary Margaret swaying closer to him, Will’s grimace all but broadcasting how unprepared they are for that particular question, but it also seems like he’s trying to tell Killian something. He does not understand. Fuck boxed wine, quite frankly. 

He opts for honesty. 

Sort of.

It worked for Mary Margaret, after all. 

Sort of. 

“We’ve, uh—” Killian starts, “—been engaged only a couple of weeks, but...we’ve been dating since March.”

Will’s shoulders droop. His eyes turn imploring, but he can’t actually say anything and Lance is, so it absolutely does not matter. “March?” he echoes. “Your friend said it was kind of a whirlwind romance. Got together in the summer.” His mouth does more than open. His jaw drops, nearly to his ankles and shoes that he actually got polished because this party isn’t super important, but Killian wanted to look nice on his fake date and Mary Margaret’s hand is the only reason he doesn’t fall over. 

“Ah,” Killian breathes, “right. That’s—yeah, that’s right.” Lance doesn’t look convinced, either. He should go talk to Aurora. Who keeps glancing at Emma, like she’s got like SONAR. Joke doesn’t even make sense. In Killian’s head. 

“We’ve been celebrating a bunch of different anniversaries,” Mary Margaret cuts in, speaking so quickly it’s as if that lie jumps out of her mouth, does cartwheels and then gets a four from the Russian judge for lack of proper execution. “Y'know...romance, and everything. He’s uh—Killian must be thinking of when we met.” Lance quirks an eyebrow. He might hate Lance. He definitely hates Lance. “You’ve only known each other since March.” “Oh my God,” Will mumbles, scratching behind his ear. And really, that’s not what does it. But it’s certainly a tipping point, or a metaphorical straw, and Killian nods once before he lifts Mary Margaret’s hand to his mouth, mumbles thanks against her knuckles and marches directly towards his actual girlfriend. 

Who is standing directly under the mistletoe. 

It’d be more impressive if she wasn’t, honestly. 

And the music doesn’t stop — although Killian can’t really hear it either, an arm finding Emma’s waist, and her hands landing flat against his chest and someone cheers. Will. It’s definitely Will. Heads turn towards them, surprise coloring more than a few of their co-workers faces, while others look...less so. 

Killian doesn’t bother dwelling on that. He’s got more important things to do. 

“I’m pretty ridiculously in love with you,” he says, Emma’s eyes getting brighter and her lips as distracting as ever. Several of the less-than-surprised faces aww. Audibly. Which doesn’t quite make sense, but he’s still not dwelling and—“Not admitting to dating you is driving me nuts.” “When is your lease up?” “What?” “Were those words confusing in that order?” Emma asks, infusing the question with false confidence that he can hear perfectly and she should have confidence in spades. At least when it comes to this. 

Maybe if they get to keep their jobs. 

“A little,” Killian concedes. “Are you—do you want me to move in with you?” “A ridiculous amount.”

“That’s admittedly not the best adjective I could have used.” “Eh, I won’t get particular with syntax.” “Stop showing off,” Will yells, “and kiss other directly on the mouth!”

There’s a general hum of agreement — even while Lance continues to look a little confused, and Aurora looks a little offended, both of which makes sense because they were fairly awful liars, and someone’s given Arthur a microphone. So the owner of Pendragon Publishing can tell them, “Literally everyone knew, you both suck at not making out in the break room.”

Heat wafts off Emma, climbs up Killian’s neck and takes root in both of his cheeks and Arthur is not done. 

“It’s not encouraged. Intra-office relationships, usually way more trouble than they’re worth, but, well—all you really need to do is sign some paperwork with HR and maybe find some other corners that are less obvious.” Nodding slowly only makes it more obvious the kind of strain all of Killian’s muscles are under, but he can’t come up with a feasible response to that and Emma’s fingers curl. Into his shirt, and he imagines that makes it easier — when she yanks him forward, lips slanting over his and she doesn’t have to push up the way she normally does. Still, Killian’s fairly certain he hears one of her heels pop out of her shoes, and if this is how it feels when a heart beats its way out of a person’s chest, it’s actually fairly comfortable. 

“I love you too,” Emma mumbles, against his mouth. So, the only reasonable response is to kiss her again. Several times over. 

And they do fill out paperwork, eventually — the story of the fake date fiasco, as David comes to call it, perfect fodder for Emma’s maid of honor speech, and proof positive of the inherent romanticism of the city at Christmas. 

[aenxiome]

Fire and brimstone

I'm trapped, and I can't get out.

I can't see anything.

I am surrounded by darkness.

As I bump around the room, I can't see anything, not even the floor below me. There wasn't even the slightest glint of light. There is not even a dim light that could be coming from the night sky. So that observation told me two things: that there are no windows in this room and that wherever I am doesn't have a light outside of the room. I walk forward until I bump into a wall. I put a hand on the wall and walked around in a circle to look for the possibility of a door. Doing this gave me not only an idea of how large the room is, which isn’t too big but also the feeling of entrapment. I went around the whole room, and there was no sign of a doorknob, not even a doorway. All I could feel was the bumpy wall underneath my fingertips. After getting over the feeling of growing disappointment, I decided to spread out and see if there was anything else with me. All I could find were some trinkets that I was unable to identify.

That's when it truly hit me that I am completely alone.

In a place with no way out.

I just could not help but become exasperated with myself. I sat down on the cool floor and tried to think of a way out. One thing was for sure: this was going to be a tough one. Since there aren't any windows, and I am unable to find a door, my methods of escaping were diminishing.

I sat there and sat there for what felt like an eternity. Due to sitting for so long in the same position, I decided to stretch out and lie down on the floor. While I was spreading out, I felt something unexpected. I jumped, surprised at the strange sensation, not expecting anything to be there. While the floor was a bit cold, it felt nothing like whatever that was. It was almost as if I were putting my foot on a block of ice. My mind was racing at the possibilities of whatever that could have been. Since it was on the floor and my foot was able to lay on top of it, whatever, it has to be somewhat flat. Maybe this was my way out.

I started to move almost immediately to investigate.

I practically attached myself to the floor as I started to move around, not wanting to miss any detail of what could be there. As I crawled around, I used my hands to feel around my vicinity, hoping to come in contact with whatever it was I felt before. The floor was hard, almost like concrete, but it had the texture of sandpaper. As I crawled around, I could feel the floor leave an indentation on my skin. The feeling was incredibly irritating as I was able to feel the small scrapes forming on me. I was able to smell the faint scent of something metallic in the air, and from the feeling of my knees, I could make an inference of where it was coming from. Blood was slowly leaking from my knees, becoming a smear on the floor. The pain was getting worse with each growing movement, but I had to continue.

My search continued for a few minutes before I was able to find it. When I made contact with it, I was able to feel the difference between the object to the rest of the flooring. My initial impression of the thing was pretty accurate as it was freezing to the touch. The most significant difference between the object and the rest of the floor was the texture. The item felt smooth and slippery, which gave relief to my hands as they were finally able to get away from the rough and scratch floor.

I traced the object with my hand and found it to be relatively large in a square shape. While the item was the same texture, it wasn't exactly flat. The middle of the object curved inwards like a bubble and sank into the floor. While feeling inside of the bubble, which was empty, I accidentally banged my hand on the side of it. When I banged into it, I heard the faint sound of an echo. While crawling around, I never heard such a sound; it made me quite perplexed. I knocked on the inside of the bubble, and the sound came again, but this time echoing all around me. I tried knocking on other parts of the floor, but all I got was a dull thud.

I’m nowhere near an expert about these sorts of things, but I had a feeling that this was important. All of those years of watching crime shows have had to pay off somehow. The object reminded me of a trap door or some kind of hatch. This could be my way out. I excitedly inspected the thing, hoping to find a way to open it. Unfortunately, I had gotten my hopes up as there was nothing I could feel on it. So I was still trapped inside, with my only hope of getting out on the other side. I could only hope someone would find me and let me out eventually.

Instead of sitting there in self-pity, I continued to go about the room, hoping to find something to occupy me. After some thought, I decided to try and find a flashlight or something else to give me at least a bit of light. I go back to all of the miscellaneous objects in the room and try to find a flashlight, or maybe even a candle among them. Even if I didn't find what I was looking for, there was still the possibility of finding something I hadn't before. You never know what could end up being useful. Many of the room’s inhabitance was relatively small, and just about all of them could fit into the palm of my hand. Even after in-depth inspection without my sight, I was unable to identify what they were.

While looking through everything, my mind had started to wander. This whole situation is weird; there is no explanation as to what is going on. First of all, where on earth am I? I'm pretty sure I would remember coming to such a place or would have at least planned better. There is no way I would have allowed myself to be put into a room without any kind of light. Will I ever be able to get out of here? What if no one comes to this place? Will I be stuck up here forever? There isn’t any food or water in here, and at this rate, I could end up dead within a few days. I tried to reassure myself that everything would be okay, but it was becoming harder to keep up the facade.

“ How did I get here,” I asked myself somberly.

I tried to think back, but all I could remember were little things like the sound of seagulls and the smell of the ocean. Everything else was just a big blank. I had started to freak out; it was almost as if my memory was missing. There is no reason for this to be happening to me; I mean, I'm nobody. I have a mediocre lifestyle, and I haven't made enemies with anyone I can think of.

This all has to be one huge mistake.

After a few minutes, my mind snapped back into reality, and I went back to inspect the objects. I had gotten so caught up in my thoughts that I hadn't realized that the room was beginning to change. The coldness of the floor had faded away and was gaining heat by the second. I reached out for something, and to my surprise, it was scalding hot. I let out a startled yelp and couldn't help but wince at the pain. What happened after left me in a panic. As soon as I yelped, another scream greeted me. The unexpected response left me practically catatonic. A variety of thoughts were going through my head. How long has this person been here? Does this mean that I wasn't alone after all? I wasn't able to ponder on those thoughts for long as the person in question was continuing to scream. The screams were becoming louder and louder, making them sound like a banshee.

I got up and went in the direction of the scream, hoping to help the other person and calm them down. About halfway to them, I hit my face on something that was dangling from the ceiling.

I yanked on it, and to my relief, a light came on.

Hanging from the ceiling was a single bulb light that started to illuminate the room.

I looked in the direction of the screams and found a young woman tied to a radiator in the corner of the room. She was wearing a ratty nightgown that is covered in dirt. There is no doubt in my mind that at one point, it had been a startling white. She had dirty blonde hair that was knotted in every way possible that went to her mid back. She had her eyes shut, and tears were running down her face.

I rushed over to her and asked, “Are you okay?”

Which now thinking in retrospect is a pretty stupid question. I should have probably gone with a simple what’s your name, but I, of course, had to go with the stupid question. She opened her eyes in response but never stopped screaming. The whites of her eyes had gone gray, and her iris’ were a startling crimson. I inspected her further and noticed her hands; the radiator had gotten so hot that it started to burn her. Her hands were bright red and beginning to blister. I just knew I had to get her untied from there. I ran around the room looking for something to cut her bindings off as the room continued to heat up. It wasn't long until the smell of burning flesh and smoke was in the air. Her screams were becoming unbearable, shaking me to my core. I ran back to her and tried my best to pull her from her bindings. As I did my best to get her undone and away from the radiator, I couldn't help but find myself being drawn into it.

I came in contact with it, and it felt like I was on fire. The feeling was intense and growing in each passing moment. We kept trying to get away, but it was almost as we became attached to it. The radiator was starting to spark, and the smoke overhead was becoming thicker by the second. It was getting harder to breathe as the smoke began to enter our lungs. In the long run, we both caught on fire.

We started to let out our screams in harmony, having them become the song of our impending deaths. Our screams began to shake the room as it became engulfed in flames. After a while, the girl suddenly got quiet. I tried to look at her through the fire, and the sight that greeted me was her lifeless body feeding the fire. I continued to try to fight and get myself away, all while the room started to come down around me.

The floor was becoming weaker and started to buckle from the heat of the flames. The base became hotter and started to burn me as well. It wasn't long after that the fight had begun to leave me. I found myself falling to the floor just as it was opening up. I could hear the floorboards creak as they began to break. It was only a matter of seconds before I found myself freefalling through the floor and into the unknown.

I was unable to move as I had succumbed to exhaustion. My only option was to lay there helplessly waiting for what had seemed to be inevitable.

The fall seemed to be happening in slow motion.

It felt like I was falling forever, waiting for the back-breaking impact to hit me. As soon as I touched the floor, I was in for a world of hurt. The burns from the fire only accentuated the injuries that I gathered from the fall.

Pieces of the surrounding floor had come down with me, covering me with fragments from the floor and other small pieces of debris.

Smoke started falling from the hole in the ceiling, contaminating the air of my new enclosure. The air thick with smoke made me feel like my throat was closing up, that I was suffocating.

My eyes became hazy from the combination of the fire and the smoke, but I was able to make out the majority of my surroundings. Tears came to my eyes as I saw it.

A Door.

My way out.

I was so happy there was a way out of this nightmare, but how to get to it? I tried my best to rise from the floor, but my body just simply couldn’t do it. My body has become broken from the fall, and I no longer have the strength to get up. When I looked around, I didn’t see anything outstanding on the floor, which gave me an idea.

I could just simply roll my way out.

I started rocking side to side, trying to gain momentum to get myself to flip over. The pain was excruciating as I continued to aggravate my injuries. It took a moment to overcome the pain and keep going, but I had to remind myself that time is of the essence. There was no way of knowing how much longer this place was going to keep standing. As I continued to roll, my body seemed to stick to the floor and melt off from the heat.

The hole from the ceiling was growing as things continued to fall through it, more smoke continued to contaminate the air, and the fire was spreading. My chance at escape was becoming minuscule by the second.

I got myself in front of the door and started to reach for the handle when all of my efforts seemed to become nonexistent.

The roof was starting to cave in.

I was reaching for the door handle when my left leg became pinned to the floor. I don’t know if it was because of the adrenaline or something else, but I barely felt it. I was no longer able to roll about so I had to crawl through the door frame.

To freedom.

I only got halfway through the door when the rest came down.

It was crushing me. I lay there waiting, hoping that someone would come along to help me, but they never did.

I laid there alone in the dark until the world around me faded to black.



[pengychan]

[Good Omens] Winging It - Isaiah 40:31

Summary: Shockingly, attempting to destroy an angel without consulting God first comes with consequences. There is more than one way to fall, and a thousand more ways to inconvenience an angel and a demon who just wanted to be left in peace. Characters: Gabriel, Crowley, Aziraphale, Beelzebub, Michael, Uriel, Sandalphon Rating: T  

Prologue and all chapters are tagged as ‘winging it’ on my blog.

A/N: well, shit hits the fan and the end is near.

***

As the boy who was most assuredly Not The Antichrist - but who had nonetheless been their charge for about the first eleven years of his life - walked towards the front door of the bookshop in Soho, entirely unaware of being stalked by a man with a pocket knife, Aziraphale stood in the bedroom of a lovely cottage in the South Downs, not far from the Devil’s Dyke.

He knew it was rather rude, being roughly seventy-five miles away from the place where you happen to have an appointment in about five minutes’ time, but surely it was not too much of an issue, given that they would be right back in the bookshop by crossing the threshold of a rather miraculous door they had installed between the two places. And besides, Crowley had really wanted to show him something. 

That something being a luxurious, huge and hugely gaudy canopy bed with gold-plated columns and red velvet drapes that wouldn’t have looked too out of place in Versailles, before revolutionaries took most of its contents to an uncertain fate. As a piece of furniture still occasionally turned up in flea markets, Aziraphale wouldn’t put it beyond the realm of possibilities.

Said bed now occupied the greater part of the bedroom that Crowley had insisted they ought to have in the cottage, against Aziraphale’s suggestion to turn it into another room for his books. 

“We already have the loft for those, and the bookshop on the other side of the door,” he’d pointed out. “We need a bedroom.”

Aziraphale, who had actually last slept sometime in the nineteenth century and solely out of boredom while watching an especially poor performance of Troilus and Cressida - in itself far from Shakespeare’s best work, and the lead actor’s lisp had done it no favors - had been slightly taken aback. “But, my dear, we don’t need sleep,” he’d said, getting a snort out of Crowley. 

“We don’t need to eat either. So what?”

Aziraphale had to concede he had a point, although he didn’t quite see the allure of laying in a semi-comatose state for several hours while hallucinating the same way he saw the allure of a slice of red velvet cake, and agreed that the cottage would indeed have a bedroom. It was only fair considering the space he had for his books, so that was a compromise he did not regret. 

Telling Crowley he was welcome to choose whatever bed he liked himself, however, was something Aziraphale did regret. He knew that Crowley’s taste when it came to furniture ranged from dreadfully minimalistic to unbearably garish, but this - the golden columns, the red heavy velvet - was… a little too much. 

“Well, what do you think?” Crowley was asking, looking as proud of himself as he had after moving that golden monstrosity he called a throne right next to Aziraphale’s old trusty armchair in the loft, entirely ignoring the way Aziraphale’s right eyebrow had twitched. 

This time, it was the left eyebrow to twitch. 

“Well, it is-- rather…” Aziraphale raked his brain for a polite way to put it. “Eye-catching.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Crowley grinned, even prouder. Aziraphale suspected his euphemism had been a little too subtle. “I remembered what you said when I came to save your butt in France.”

“... That I wanted crêpes?”

“That you had standards. French royalty standards.”

“Well, it was not quite royalty level, more along the lines of a noble--”

“This beauty comes straight from Versailles.”

Ah, of course. Of course it did. 

“Or, well, not so straight. It went around across Europe quite a bit. But here it is, as you see.”

“Yes. I… I do see.” Aziraphale managed a smile. No harm done, he thought - he didn’t have a habit to sleep as Crowley did, so he would hardly ever need to be in that room at all. He would just entirely forget about that bed. Out of sight, out of mind. 

“The mattress is new, clearly. You’ll like it. Real plush.”

Aziraphale blinked. “That sounds nice, but I am not in the habit of sleeping.”

“You should try. Nothing better than some time spent in a semi-comatose state while vividly hallucinating.”

A chuckle. “You’re not making it sound very alluring.”

“Ah, I should up my temptation game. I’m out of practice. When was the last time I tempted you into anything?”

“This morning, actually, you--”

The chiming of the grandfather clock downstairs - a very tasteful eighteenth century clock Aziraphale had long debated whether to move in the cottage or keep in the bookshop - cut him off, and reminded him of… well, of the time. 

“I believe Warlock should arrive any moment now - we should head back,” he said, and they did. It looked like the boy might get there before Gabriel popped in to return the book, and if that turned out to be the case… well, Aziraphale really hoped he had enough sense to put the book in a bag or something like it. If not, they may need to have a few words.

There were things an eleven-year-old boy really didn’t need to see.

***

“Ugh, c’mon, they knew I was coming…” Warlock Dowling huffed, taking a couple of steps away from the door of the bookshop which had stayed closed, no matter how hard he knocked. He glanced at the sign in the window; it made just as little sense as it did the first time he read it. 

I open the shop on most weekdays about 9:30 or perhaps 10am. While occasionally I open the shop as early as 8, I have been known not to open until 1, except on Tuesday. I tend to close about 3:30pm, or earlier if something needs tending to. However, I might occasionally keep the shop open until 8 or 9 at night, you never know when you might need some light reading. On days that I am not in, the shop will remain closed. On weekends, I will open the shop during normal hours unless I am elsewhere. Bank holidays will be treated in the usual fashion, with early closing on Wednesdays, or sometimes Fridays. (For Sundays see Tuesdays). A.Z. Fell, Bookseller

Warlock briefly wondered who A. Z. Fell was, really - the founder? A co-owner? It definitely was not Brother Francis’ name, but he had claimed to be the owner, which was a leap from working as a gardener but not a claim Warlock had any reason to doubt. Brother Francis did not lie, after all. He hated lies and got really cross with him whenever he caught him lying, usually after Nanny-- after Crowley suggested he did.

“Pair of weirdos. Always been,” Warlock muttered, but it wasn’t really a complaint; they were a fun pair of weirdos to grow up around, or else he wouldn’t have tracked them down in London. After checking through the window to see if anyone was in, and seeing, no one, Warlock reached in his pocket for his phone and began looking for Crowley’s number. 

Focused as he was on the screen, he failed to notice the man approaching with a hand in his pocket, eyes fixed on him and pupils blown so wide his eyes looked entirely black. On the opposite side of the road Hastur, Duke of Hell, retreated from the mortal’s mind with a smirk and prepared to enjoy the scene with eyes just as black.

***

“... So no, I really doubt the London Dungeon holds prisoners anymore, but it would be an interesting thing to--”

“Silence,” Beelzebub spoke suddenly, stopping abruptly in their tracks and causing Gabriel to almost bump into them and drop the book, something for which Aziraphale would probably be very, very cross with him. He frowned. 

“It’s not my fault that they have stopped using the dungeons, if that’s such an issue I suppose we could change plans and--”

“Something’s wrong.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t you sense-- ah. No, you can’t anymore,” Beelzebub muttered, and looked around with a scowl. “A demon is at work. It was my order that no one was to approach the traitors.”

Gabriel blinked. “Maybe it’s Crowley--”

“It’s not,” Beelzebub all but snarled, staring at someone some distance away. Further down the pavement stood a man that looked… wrong, for the lack of a better word; something not human who made a passingly decent job at masquerading as human, but not quite good enough. Gabriel may not be able to sense demonic or angelic presences anymore, but he could see as much.

“Hastur,” Beelzebub scoffed. 

Ah, Gabriel was vaguely familiar with the name - Hastur, Duke of Hell. Not someone he’d be pleased to meet anywhere in general, but seeing him there was especially worrying. He recalled Michael mentioning that out of all demons, he held a particular grudge against Crowley. Was that grudge really so great that he would ignore a direct order from Beelzebub to find Crowley in Soho and… and do what, exactly? “What is he doing here?”

“I’m about to find out. Wait here,” Beelzebub muttered, and walked - no, marched - directly towards the demon. “Hastur, Duke of Hell. What in Heaven are you doing here?”

Their voice caused the demon to recoil and turn his attention away from… whatever they had been staring at on the other side of the road. He was already deathly pale, but he seemed to grow just a tad paler as his gaze rested on a decidedly annoyed Prince of Hell planting themselves before him, arms crossed and clearly looking for a very good explanation why he would defy a direct order not to be anywhere near the traitorous demon that holy water could not destroy.

As he stammered some sort of reply, Gabriel let his gaze wander across the street. A man was walking towards the bookshop coming from the opposite direction, and he was… wait. Wait, he looked familiar - Gabriel had seen him before, a few months earlier, near the church where Daniel’s funeral service had just been held. He’d given him his coat because it was raining and talked briefly with him, and he had found it funny because his name was… his name…

“Noah!” Gabriel called out with a smile, walking towards him. “How are you doing? How’s your--” 

The next word - dog? - died on his lips when he got to look, to really look, at Noah’s eyes. They looked no more human than those of the Duke of Hell currently getting a tongue-lashing only a few steps away, and they were fixed dead ahead of him as he kept walking, giving no sign of having heard or seen him. Walking towards the bookshop… and towards a boy fumbling with his phone right in front of it, back turned to them all.  Something was off. Something was wrong. 

A demon is at work, Beelzebub had said. Gabriel opened his mouth to cry out, to demand that Hastur, Duke of Hell, released that mortal from whatever hold he had on him - but before he could force out a single word, Noah’s hand came out of his pocket and something gleamed in the sunlight. 

There was no time to cry out. No time for words, no time to think, no time to demand action from anyone other than himself. Gabriel knew there was one thing he ought to do now, one thing only. Ever since finding himself without plan or purpose, choices had not always come easy to him - the terror of choosing wrong often paralyzing him. But this one came with no effort: it was no choice at all. As a dark shadow fell on a boy he didn’t even know, Gabriel dropped the book he had come to return, and ran. 

“NOAH! STOP!”

Noah did not turn, but the boy did. He lifted his gaze from his phone to glance over at Gabriel, clearly confused - then his confusion turned into alarm when Gabriel suddenly grabbed his arm and yanked him away. 

“Hey! The hell?” the boy yelled, just as the knife descended on the spot he’d been standing only an instant before, narrowly missing the back of his neck. He tried to pull away from Gabriel’s grip, turning to call out for someone to get that madman off him  - and froze when he finally saw the man standing behind him, eyes all black and lips pulled back in a snarl, swinging something at him.

Somewhere in his brain, he registered it was a knife. He tried once again to scream - mom, he thought, but if he’d managed to force out his voice he probably would have said something more along the lines of ‘shit’. Gabriel, from his part, didn’t try to speak again; he could tell Noah was beyond hearing him. 

So he yanked the boy back once again, and threw himself between him and Noah. The result was, all things considered, extremely predictable.

Four and a half inches of steel buried themselves into Gabriel’s gut with a wet sound that went almost entirely unheard. There was a sense of heat, the pressure of a handle against his flesh and, at first, no pain. Gabriel found himself staring straight into pitch-black eyes for a moment before the pupils shrank to a normal size again, revealing the human eyes, light blue and filled with confusion. Somewhere behind Gabriel, the boy screamed and turned to bang on the door of Aziraphale’s bookshop. 

People around them stopped walking to turn, not quite having caught up what was going on but slowly getting there. On the other side of the road, a panicked Duke of Hell disappeared in a cloud of smoke as soon as the Lord of the Flies turned to see what the commotion was about. 

Gabriel tried to speak, to call out for Beelzebub - don’t hurt him, he didn’t know what he was doing - but a gurgling sound was all that left him, and something dripped down his chin. 

“What…?” Noah muttered, blinking at him, and looked down. “Oh-- oh God, oh Jesus Christ, oh shit-- !” he cried out, voice high and panicked, and staggered back with the knife still in hand, dislodging from Gabriel’s flesh with another wet sound.

Blood came rushing forth, coldness set in, and so did pain. Gabriel’s knees folded, and he hit the ground just as the bloodied knife did. Noah stepped back again, shaking like a newborn calf. 

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry-- someone call an ambulance, I’m sorry, oh God…!”

Don’t bother calling out for God. They don’t answer. Not for me.

“Gabriel!” Beelzebub’s voice filled his ears, drowning out all the rest. There was a hand on the back of his head, lifting it, and he opened his eyes again to see them looking down at him, wide-eyed and scared in a way he had never seen them.

And Gabriel was scared, too, filled to the brim with the most primal, human terror - the most ancient sort of despair known to man. He suddenly knew why even Yeshua had faltered that night in the Garden of Gethsemane, pleading to escape the fate before him and avoid what he knew was unavoidable.

I don’t want to die.

He tried to speak, choking on his own blood. Somewhere behind him, a heavy door was thrown open and Aziraphale’s voice reached him as though from miles away. 

“Warlock! My boy, what is-- oh. Oh dear, what…?”

“What the Heaven is going on?” Crowley’s voice was a couple octaves higher than usual, and suddenly there was silence, time itself stilled; the crowd all around them, Noah, even a bird flying past right above them remained fixed in time like so many statues. The boy was talking frantically to Crowley and Aziraphale, but Gabriel was unable to pay his words any mind. His gaze remained fixed on Beelzebub, and on Beelzebub only. 

“Heal me,” he choked out. He felt cold all over, even with the wound itself throbbing in heat and pain the way the wounds on his back had, the day his wings were torn off. “Please.”

“Hastur will pay for this, he-- I-- of course, you idiot, be still--” their hand hovered above the blood-soaked shirt, and suddenly they hesitated. Their gaze found Gabriel’s, and held it. “... Sacrifice,” the Prince of Hell murmured.

“What…?”

“You sacrificed your life for another. That’s it. It’s your ticket back home, Gabriel.”

Home. Back in Heaven, where he belonged. Not quite in his old position - a mortal soul - but still, home. Except that… except that if he returned there as a mere mortal soul...

“No,” Gabriel wheezed. “No. I can’t. I-- would never-- be able to leave it-- again.”

“You never wished to leave it in the first pla--”

“Never see you-- again--” Gabriel coughed, and let out a weak groan at the excruciating pain. He could taste blood in his mouth, feel it down his throat, pooling down on the pavement around him; he felt his strength draining away with it. The back of Beelzebub’s free hand wiped some of it off his chin; the other still cupped the back of his head.

“... You will die either way in the end. You do not wish to reside in Hell and I will not force you.” Their plan of leaving behind Hell for good seemed to be far from their mind now. “This may be--” the Prince of Hell paused, and let out a shaky breath. “This may be your best chance, Gabriel.”

“No. Not now. Not yet,” Gabriel managed a smile. His vision was growing blurry. “I will take… all the time I can get. With you.” However little it may be. Such short life spans, but I will make it worth it. I must. I only get one shot. “So don’t-- let me die-- yet.”

For a moment Beelzebub only stared, their hand hovering above his wound. They swallowed, and opened their mouth to say something - only that someone else spoke first. Aziraphale.

“Oh, oh dear, what a dreadful mess-- Gabriel? It’s all right, hold on, I will heal you--”

“Keep away from him!” Beelzebub buzzed furiously, shooting a glare at Aziraphale, at Crowley, at the boy who was currently glued to Crowley’s side, staring with wide eyes at the scene before him and at the crowd frozen in time. The angel reared back, but did not give up. 

“I mean to help him. Heal him.”

“I can heal him myself!” the Prince of Hell snapped, and pressed their hand on the bleeding wound. Pain shot up Gabriel’s body and he ground his teeth, waiting for relief, for healing, for the end of suffering… but none of it came. 

Beelzebub pulled away a now bloodied hand, taken aback, struggling to comprehend what they were seeing. “It’s… it isn’t working. It won’t heal.”

Gabriel closed his eyes, despair sinking in his chest.

No. It cannot be. Not now, God, please. Don’t do this to me. Don’t let me die now that I have learned to live. Don’t take them from me again.

“... May I try, Lord Beelzebub?” Aziraphale spoke again, ever respectful, but the hesitation in his voice made it plain that he didn’t think they could succeed where Beelzebub had failed. Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut, and felt something trickling down his temples. 

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why--

GABRIEL.

That voice, in the back of his mind and yet everywhere. Gabriel hadn’t heard it in such a long, long time, but hadn't forgotten it. His chest shuddered in a gasp, and he tried to speak again, to respond to the call - whether to cry, to beg, to curse he didn’t know. Before he could force out a single sound, another voice rose. Very familiar and decidedly concerned.

“Uuh, angel? Any idea what that is?”

“What-- oh. That might be our cue to move out of the way. Move away-- you too, Warlock, move back, my boy…”

What…?

Gabriel opened his eyes and looked up at the sky. Precisely above him, the blue of it was gone; clouds of blinding white had gathered in a circle, and within that circle was only light. The air around him seemed to crackle, and he knew what that meant. Gabriel tried to speak, to warn Beelzebub, but he could only cough up another mouthful of blood. On his tongue, he could now taste something else.

Ozone. 

From a distance, once again came Aziraphale’s voice. “Lord Beelzebub, you ought to let go and--”

“No.” Beelzebub’s grip on Gabriel tightened, vicious and desperate at the same time. The air crackled, the clouds swirled, and Gabriel’s vision began to fade. His hand weakly gripped their jacket, but he was unable to do anything else. Beelzebub’s face was but a blur, but ah, their grip was unyielding. His eyes slipped shut, his head rolled against their chest. 

“I refuse to let go. God cannot tell me what to do and neither can you.”

Don’t take them from me again. Please, please, please--

“Brother Francis, what the hell--”

“We’ll explain later, my boy - step back now, cover your eyes - don’t look, Crowley, make sure he doesn’t look--”

The crack of thunder covered his next words, filling the world, drowning out all noise. Gabriel felt the grip around him tightening, heard Beelzebub choke out something that sounded a lot like ‘you idiot’, and he opened his eyes. 

And then there was only light.

***

In the instant before lighting struck, three things happened in quick succession.

First, Crowley pulled Warlock’s face to his chest to make sure he wouldn’t be blinded as many mortals had been before Heaven learned to somewhat tone it down; second, Crowley turned his back to the scene to avoid looking himself, and shield the boy while he was at it. 

And third, Aziraphale’s wings unfolded to shield them both.

There was no heat, which was rather typical of Heavenly things: light without warmth, utterly unlike the darkness and heat - humid heat rather than raging flames, but all the more uncomfortable - that Aziraphale had experienced in his first, and hopefully only, visit to Hell.

Shielded by Aziraphale’s wings, Crowley kept his eyes tightly shut behind his glasses and Warlock’s face pressed against his shirt for several more moments after the last echo of the deafening thunder faded. 

“Is it safe to turn, angel?” he asked, while Warlock kept muttering against his shirt a litany of words that mostly sounded like ‘what’, ‘the’ and ‘fuck’, in the order. 

This time Aziraphale didn’t bother to make a mental note of talking with the boy about his language. Aside from being relieved the boy had not been stabbed, turned into salt, incinerated, blinded or deprived of his sanity, Aziraphale suspected they would have different, more pressing matters to discuss very shortly. “I’ll check. Don’t look yet,” he replied, and finally looked back.

The crowd of mortals was still around them, frozen in time, unscathed and unaware. The clouds were gone, quick as they had come - but there was a sphere of light before him, crackling with electricity where Beelzebub and Gabriel had been until moments earlier. In that light, there was… something. At first Aziraphale couldn’t make it out, but as he stepped closer and the light began to dull, he could see something all right. 

And that something was a pair of folded wings. 

At first, Aziraphale thought he must be looking at the wings of a demon and wondered how Beelzebub could survive the full might of the Lord; then, as the light pulsed and faded little by little, he realized that was not it. The wings were not the pure white of angels, but neither were they midnight black. Deep brown with a golden sheen, mottled with darker brown, black, specks of white. The wings of an eagle.  

And they did not belong to Beelzebub.

One last crackle of pure energy, and the pulsing light dissolved. Aziraphale worked his jaw a moment, mouth dry, before he finally called out.

“... Gabriel?”

The wings shifted, and slowly parted. Gabriel was kneeling on the pavement, eyes blinking open as though he struggled to comprehend what was happening. In his arms, held tightly against his chest, was the Prince of Hell; their eyes were screwed shut as though they were waiting to be smited still, but they were in one piece - shielded from the full might of God by the Archangel Gabriel himself, who seemed to be just now beginning to process precisely what had transpired. 

“What…?” he muttered, and the sound of his voice caused Beelzebub’s eyes to snap open. They pulled back from his chest, on their knees themselves, and looked up at Gabriel - and at the wings spread behind him. They opened their mouth to say something, closed it, opened it again. 

“You have wings again,” they finally said. “But they don’t look like--”

Gabriel didn’t so much turn to look at them. “You are all right,” he muttered, and cupped their cheek with a long breath, smiling widely. “Thank-- whoever there is to thank, you’re--”

Beelzebub’s hand grasped the collar of Gabriel’s shirt before he could say another word, and yanked his head down in a sudden kiss. It was definitely not something Aziraphale had expected to happen and neither had Gabriel, by the looks of it, but he seemed… far from displeased. Actually he leaned into it rather enthusiastically, arms slipping around the Lord of the Flies’ waist. 

Aziraphale stepped back, feeling just a touch awkward.

“Angel, is it safe to look or no--” Crowley finally spoke up, and turned without waiting for an answer. A rather unwise move, that. His gaze fell on the scene before him, and he let out a groan. “Uuuugh! No it’s not safe, not it’s not, for Satan’s sake it’s seared in my brain now, why didn’t you warn...”

He turned again and took a few steps away, rubbing his eyes beneath the glasses. Warlock, on the other hand, remained exactly where he was - eyes shifting slowly between Gabriel’s brand new wings and Aziraphale’s own, still in full display.

“... Brother Francis, I don’t mean to be rude or anything,” he finally said. “But what, pray tell, the fuck.”

“Well…” Aziraphale hesitated a moment, knowing he couldn’t count on Crowley stepping in for an explanation for at least another ten minutes, busy as he was trying to jab his eyes out of their sockets. In the end, he said nothing and turned to survey the scene.

Time stood still and so did every single living being in sight, including the man who had wielded the knife, a horrified expression frozen on his face. Gabriel and Beelzebub didn’t seem to plan on letting their mouths part ways anytime soon, still on the very spot where Gabriel had nearly bled out to death minutes earlier. A few steps away, in the middle of the road, was Aziraphale’s antique pornography book. 

With a sigh, Aziraphale went to pick it up and tucked it under his arm, making sure to hide the cover from Warlock’s sight. 

“I believe,” he finally spoke, “that we all could use a nice cup of tea right about now.”

***

"But those who hope in the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall soar on wings like eagles; they shall run and not grow weary, they shall walk and not be faint." -- Isaiah 40:31

***

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Signed, Sealed, Delivered | (6/7)

Title: Signed, Sealed, Delivered Summary:   Jan is in love with her French pen pal, Nicky. Her roommate, Crystal, is in love with her best friend, Gigi. A (perhaps ill-thought out) plan emerges: give Nicky a reason to visit by inviting her to Crystal and Gigi’s wedding. With a month to pull the scheme together, no one knows how this will end up. Word Count: ~3k (this chapter) / ~17.4k (total) Relationship(s): Sportsdoll (Jan Sport/Nicky Doll), Crygi (Crystal Methyd/Gigi Goode Rating: E

Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi

Jan rubbed her eyes, trying to dislodge whatever had gotten caked in there overnight, then pushed herself out of bed and made herself walk towards the kitchen. She put on her glasses and saw Crystal cooking breakfast – so she took off her glasses and put them on again to make sure she was seeing that correctly. “You’re up bright and early,” she observed.

“Is that weird?” Crystal asked, feigning innocence because the answer was obvious. Especially since she couldn’t look Jan in the eye and started shifting her weight from one leg to the other. That went on for about twenty seconds before she broke. “Okay, okay. It’s just… Gigi spent the night.”

That didn’t clear anything up for Jan, who waited for a further explanation. When she didn’t get one, she pointed out, “Gigi spends the night all the time, we both know she’s very comfortable with that. I mean… She practically lives here.”

She huffed because now she had to get into specifics. “No, but it was different this time. We… you know…” instead of outright saying it, she made a ‘v’ with her fingers and flicked her tongue between them.

“Oh please, you can just say you fucked,” Jan said, only for it to hit her a beat later. “Oh my god, you guys fucked?” Her eyes went wide and she bounced excitedly. “Wait, wait, wait. What does that mean for you guys now? Are you gonna be a thing? Is she still here?”

Crystal blinked. “How can you breathe when you’re talking so fast?” She turned back to finish cooking, then plated the food. “She’s taking a shower… I don’t know what this means for us,” she sighed. “The whole thing started because she said we weren’t convincing when we kissed for the photos. Maybe she thought we needed to explore our physical chemistry so we can use it better.”

Jan put her hand over her mouth and giggled. “I’m sorry, but that sounds like a line,” she told her, moving around the kitchen island to pour herself coffee. “Which, I mean, is good for you, because it means she was looking for an excuse to feel you up,” she added, bumping her hip against Crystal’s.

“That’s what I said! But she swore we just needed to be super convincing or it’d ruin our whole plan.”

She quirked her brow and snickered. “You believed that?”

Crystal looked down, pushing a forkful of her omelet into her mouth. “I mean… Why would she make that up? That doesn’t make any sense.” She looked back up, eyes meeting her roommate’s incredulous expression. “What?”

Jan was about to scream, her eyes ready to pop out of her head. If it was obvious to her, it was damn near bewildering that Crystal couldn’t pick up on it. This wasn’t some cute, subtle flirting, like the kind they had been trying to master this whole time – this was as close to an outright declaration of affection that someone like Gigi would get. “I don’t know, Crystal,” she answered with pointed sarcasm, “lying to people we like seems to be the norm here, let’s think this through a little bit.”

Luckily for Crystal, she didn’t get a chance to think too hard. Before she could reply, Gigi exited the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her body, another wrapping up her hair. She looked at the other two girls, blissfully unaware of the bubbling tension between the two roommates. “Hi Jan,” she greeted, at least realizing she had walked in on the middle of a conversation, and added, “I’m gonna go get dressed,” before disappearing into Crystal’s bedroom.

Crystal exhaled once Gigi left and waited for her heart to return to its normal speed. She hated that even though she knew the other girl hadn’t heard anything, her mere presence made her chest tighten. Even after all that had happened the night before, she had the feeling of walking on eggshells around Gigi whenever the subject of her feelings was approached. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Not to sound like the world’s biggest hypocrite, but you could talk to her about it,” Jan suggested gently. She imagined life was a lot easier for people who weren’t afraid to say how they feel, to just open their hearts up and speak their mind without fear of repercussion. It must be nice. Completely unrealistic, but nice.

Unsurprisingly, Crystal scoffed at the mere suggestion. “If talking about things was plausible, we wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with.”

Jan sighed and leaned against the counter. “Yeah, okay, that’s fair.” She exhaled deeply and looked out the window. “God, we’re pretty fucking useless. Almost makes it hard to believe that graduation’s at the end of the week,” she mused. “When’s your family due in?”

“Day before the ceremony, so Friday. Means we got two whole days of peace and quiet before we have to deal with them,” Crystal explained between bites. But then she abruptly stopped, eyes going wide. “Oh fuck, what’re we gonna do about the… everything?”

Before Jan could answer, Gigi – now fully dressed – rejoined them, naturally noticing the horror in Crystal’s expression before anything else. “What’s wrong?”

“We failed to account for Crystal’s family flying out here in the midst of all of this,” Jan told her. “So we’re either going to have to clue them in, avoid mentioning anything entirely, or let her conservative parents think she’s about to marry a girl they’ve met… what, twice?”

Crystal nodded to confirm Jan’s answer. “I think the second one is our best chance, probably the easiest one too.” She strummed her fingers against the plate, lips pursed and brows furrowed. “Gigi, you need to tell your mom not to say anything, they’ll still probably want to say hi to you guys.”

Gigi shrugged. “Sure, but I don’t think she’s planning on going to the ceremony, so I dunno when she’d see them anyway.”

“I’m just covering our asses!” Crystal snapped, causing both of the other girls to take a surprised, cautious step backward. She took a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. “Look, my parents are… They’re trying. But it’s still a work in progress. I just want everything to go as smoothly as possible.”

Jan and Gigi moved back to Crystal, gently holding her from either side. “Everything is going to be fine,” Jan said with a certainty she’d been lacking for the entirety of their plan. But it was different, avoidable, and they weren’t going to let it ruin such an important day. “We’re not gonna let anything ruin this, I promise.”

------

Jan and Crystal, like the rest of their graduating class, were seated in alphabetical order, keeping them apart for the duration of the ceremony. They texted each other, and both Jan and Gigi made sure to reassure Crystal that there was nothing to worry about. And as they sat and listened to speech after speech, things felt increasingly calm, to the point that they were both able to walk across the stage with their heads held high.

And when they tossed their caps in the air, they felt free. The past four years had been a tough, enduring chapter in their lives, but a fun one as well. It also helped to have one less thing on their plate with Nicky’s visit and the ‘wedding’ around the corner.

“I’m so happy for you guys!” Gigi beamed when she finally caught up with the two of them after weaving through the crowd of graduates and their families. “How do you feel?”

“Tired,” Crystal answered. “I don’t see why they had to hold this so damn early.”

Jan frowned sympathetically. “She didn’t get a chance to get her coffee,” she clarified to Gigi. “Honestly, I’m just happy it’s all done. Gonna miss a lot of it but like… I’m not rushing back any time soon.”

“Yeah? Not going for that MFA?” Gigi asked, absentmindedly looping her arm around Crystal’s waist.

“Not now, at least,” she shrugged. “Gonna see how far I can get with this before I sign myself up for more school.” As she spoke, she felt her phone vibrate in her purse, then fished it out and smiled when she unlocked it. “Aw, look at this cute ‘congratulations’ gif Nicky sent me.”

Crystal’s gaze narrowed as she looked at the screen. “Congrats on your graduation, darling. I have a special present for you, but it’s a surprise. Heart, winky-kissy emoji,” she read off the screen, then looked at Jan quizzically. “What the fuck was that? Did you guys move to sexting already?”

Despite her reddening face, Jan’s expression read just as perplexed. “Believe me, you would know if we were. I have no idea what the surprise is.” She decided to set the mystery aside for the time being. “We should get back home and throw an overnight bag together, we can check into the hotel and leave them there, then right out to dinner with our families.”

“I still can’t believe your parents booked you a night in a penthouse for graduation,” Gigi chimed in. “They don’t mind that I’m going too, right?”

Jan shook her head. “It’s fine, you’ll just have to share a bed with Crystal… But I’m sure that won’t be an issue, right?” she did her best to fight off a smirk, but by the way, Crystal was glaring at her, she was pretty sure her efforts were not paying off.

But Gigi didn’t seem to notice either way. “Yeah, no problem here,” she answered with a casual shrug.

------

Much to everyone’s relief, dinner with Crystal and Jan’s families went off without a hitch, and the two of them, along with Gigi, were ready to have a fun, relaxing night in the penthouse. The suite had two queen-sized beds, Jan running to claim the one closer to the window and the air conditioning.

“Holy shit,” Crystal remarked as she looked around. “How much did this cost?”

“Dunno, my dad used his airline points to cover it,” Jan explained, then flopped down on the bed. “This is a perfect note to end our college careers on.”

Gigi sat on the edge of the other bed. “Can we order room service?” she asked, pushing herself further onto the bed and aimlessly swinging her legs.

Jan sat up and nodded, then got the menu from the bedside drawer. “You know, Nicky never got back to me about whatever her surprise was, I didn’t get anything in the mail.”

“And no salacious photos?” Gigi asked.

“No.”

“She must have a big package for you,” Crystal mused, then laughed at her wording. She ignored Jan and Gigi rolling their eyes and moved to look at the menu, the three of them calling in an order shortly after.

As the three of them sat on Jan’s bed, eating overpriced food and drinking wine that was probably fancy, but they wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference between that and the fifteen dollar bottles they were used to. And after a couple glasses of wine, they had become even more relaxed, enough for Crystal to admit, “Jan knows we fucked, by the way.”

Gigi blinked, looking between Crystal and Jan with her lips pursed around the glass. “I didn’t know it was a secret,” she replied once she lowered the glass. “But why did Jan want to know?”

Crystal swallowed thickly, trying to think of a way to talk herself out of what she’d just gotten into. “Because… We’re friends? We talk to each other about this sort of thing. We’re close.”

“Very close,” Jan added under her breath, then giggled when Crystal shot her a look.

Gigi frowned. “Okay, can I ask something that’s been bugging me for a while? Do you guys have, like, a thing?”

Crystal nearly choked on her drink while Jan just seemed to sit and think, then answered with “define ‘thing’.”

“Look, I know you’re in love with Nicky, I’m not saying I think you guys are gonna run off together or anything,” Gigi assured. “But… Sometimes I get the vibe that Crystal might have a crush on you.”

While Crystal’s mouth hung open in shock and a bit of wine dribbled down her chin, Jan had burst out laughing, narrowly avoiding knocking anything over in the process. It was the type of laughter that left her out of breath and with watery eyes.

“Are you done?” Gigi asked, deadpan. “Did you get it out of your system?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Jan panted, then turned to Crystal. “I’m sorry, sweetie, I have to tell her the truth,” and Crystal didn’t put up a fight, so she proceeded. “Okay, look, Crystal and I did have sex. Once. But she did it to take her mind off of how much she likes you. It wasn’t anything more than two friends getting high and helping each other out.”

It wasn’t easy to stun Gigi into silence, but Jan’s explanation seemed to do the trick. Had she had it wrong this whole time? Misread every interaction? Ignored every sign? Sure, she knew she tended to be oblivious, but this just made her feel silly. At this point, she didn’t care that Jan and Crystal had hooked up, all she was concerned with was what happened next. “Since we’re all telling the truth now… I have an embarrassing confession. The last girl I hooked up with… I, um, called her ‘Crystal’ in bed. Kinda realized I couldn’t ignore how I felt anymore.”

“If I may,” Jan chimed in. “Literally the first time I saw you guys without the engagement rings was at graduation. Maybe this was a stupid, convoluted way to figure it out, but I think you guys are supposed to be together. Now, I… suddenly have the desire to take a long bath… Bye.” She got off the bed and quickly ducked into the bathroom to give the other two the time alone they needed.

“She’s trying her best,” Crystal remarked before turning to face Gigi. “I… that story… you weren’t just saying that to have an excuse for liking me, right?”

Gigi smiled softly and shook her head. “Is it really that hard to believe?”

Crystal shrugged. “I guess not. The image of you saying the wrong name in bed is funny, though. Just wanted to make sure it was real.” She shifted closer to Gigi and rested her head on her shoulder. “I’m so tired of pretending, not pretending to be engaged, pretending to just be friends.”

“You’re not suggesting we get engaged for real, are you?”

She laughed, picking her head up and resting it against Gigi’s. “No, not at all. I just wanna be your girlfriend, Geege.”

Gigi grinned broadly and pressed a kiss to Crystal’s lips. “I love how that sounds. Say it again, please.”

And Crystal would’ve happily said it as many times as Gigi wanted, as long as she got a ‘yes’ in return. “I wanna be your girlfriend.”

“Then… You are. That’s that,” she concluded, kissing her again, this time longer and with much more emotion behind it. “If we barricade Jan in the bathroom, we could probably fuck before she breaks down the door.”

Crystal laughed, getting up and moving back to hers and Gigi’s bed. “She wouldn’t care if she walked in on us, neither would I, honestly, but I kind of… don’t want to have sex right now. I’m all emotional and vulnerable and whatever,” she admitted as she laid on her side, opening her arms and beckoning Gigi to join her.

“Oh,” Gigi felt her heart swell with warmth. “We don’t have to at all, then,” she hummed, laying with Crystal and holding her close. She pressed gentle kisses over her face, carding her fingers through Crystal’s hair.

They cuddled in comfortable silence for about another ten minutes until they heard the bathroom door open. Jan was wrapped in a white terrycloth robe, her hair a bit damp, and let out a content sigh. She looked over at the couple and smiled fondly. “Aw, you guys are too cute!” she squealed.

“You weren’t eavesdropping, were you?” Crystal asked.

“Nope,” Jan answered honestly. “I’ve been texting with Nicky. But it looks like you guys worked everything out.”

“We did,” Gigi confirmed, then her brows furrowed. “She’s up late, isn’t she? It’s after three in the morning in France, right?”

Jan looked at her phone and counted to herself. “Yeah, that is late, but that’s not uncommon for her, so I didn’t ask.” She gathered up the plates and glasses, stacking it up on the tray and setting it aside. “You guys are gonna finish this bottle off with me, right?”

Before either of them could answer, there was a knock on the door that caught them all off guard. “Wonder what else my parents have planned,” she mused, expecting some sort of additional graduation present, or maybe just an extra dessert. Either way, she opened the door with a smile, only for her jaw to go slack and practically drop to the floor. Surely she was seeing things, or maybe she was more drunk than she realized. There was no way–

“Surprise!” Nicky beamed, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Verboten 11 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary:   AU. When Danny was five years old, he went missing for 2 weeks. In the years that follow, his family tried to make sense of what happened, only for the truth to be discovered years later.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, language. Be prepared for some very weird things

Chapter warning: child kidnappings mentioned

Parings: Danny/Sam

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr. This fic is very heavily inspired by folklore surrounding mysterious wilderness disappearances

Chapter 11

The return home was nothing but a blur. Sam’s mind couldn’t make much sense of anything until she focused on flashing lights in the darkness. Panic gripped her as the possibility those skeleton creatures followed them, but voices soon filtered through the dark trees. She called out to them in a raspy voice. At first, she thought her voice was too faint to reach them, but someone heard her.

One of the rangers came into focus as he approached her. After flashing his light over the area, he tried asking her something. His question didn’t make much sense to her, so she attempted to tell him she was okay, but the others might be hurt. Her vision swam as the ranger contacted someone on his walkie-talkie. The last thing she heard before blackness took her was the ranger trying to keep her conscious.

…

She woke up to find herself staring at a pale gray ceiling. Confused, she turned her head to get a better idea of where she was. The white walls, a single chair where Tucker was sleeping, and an IV which was attached to her clued her in that she was in a hospital. Why was she in a hospital? After glancing at Tucker again, she determined the better question was why was Tucker in the hospital? He hated them.

He roused himself after a few moments. “Hey, you’re awake!” After allowing himself a moment to stretch, he moved to her side. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired.” Her throat felt like sandpaper. “How’d I get here? Where is everyone else? Where’s Danny?”

“I was told the Rangers called in ambulances after we were found. We and the A-listers were taken here. We were actually the least injured – just some scrapes and bruises. The doctors said you also had a bad bump on the head. Some of the A-listers are in critical condition, but they should make it.” He glanced around before leaning closer so he could whisper, “When I was released earlier, my parents told me Danny had been found and taken here, but they’re not allowing visitors. He’s being questioned by the police because he was found in a different location hours after us and relatively unharmed. Mom said the doctors seem worried about his vitals.”

“But he didn’t do anything!” She tried to sit up only to have Tucker gently stop her.

“Hey, the only way your parents let me in here was if I promised to make sure you didn’t get up if they weren’t in the room. I’m not pushing my luck after everything else that happened.” Once he was certain she was done trying to move, he went back to the chair and wrung his hands. “Trust me. I know he didn’t have anything to do with what happened, but it looks weird to the cops that he wasn’t found with us.”

Sam wanted to argue with him just so she could vent. Danny didn’t deserve that suspicion. He was probably most affected by what happened. Remembering him in that ghostly form, she hoped he would be okay being in the world of the living. He was back there with them, so she guessed he would be okay.

She tried to question Tucker for more information, but her parents interrupted them. After a boisterous show of relief from her mother, her dad had enough tact to politely ask Tucker to give them time with their daughter. She glared at Tucker’s betrayal as he gave a half-hearted salute before he exited leaving her to try to block out her mother’s piercing voice.

….

After a barrage of tests the next morning, the doctors were confident she could be released. However, her parents wanted them to keep her for another night as a precaution. Since the doctors gave her a clean bill of health, the police came in to take a statement from her. She told them what she felt she could – that someone who called himself Youngblood killed Lester and took Mikey, and after she and her friends got separated from the others, were hunted down by someone called Plasmius. While the police seemed skeptical, they did admit her story matched up with her friends and what they could get out of Dash and Lucas.

Her annoyance at the police lessened when Tucker brought her news they were allowed to go see Danny. Her nurse was fine with it as long as she returned to her room after a couple hours.

Danny’s room was on a different floor so it took them a few minutes to get there. After knocking and entering, they found Danny sitting up on his bed and chatting with his sister. After greeting them, Jazz excused herself after giving him a searching look.

“What was that about?” Tucker questioned as he glanced back towards where Jazz disappeared.

“You know her and her psychobabble. She’s convinced I’m traumatized need to talk to someone.” Danny’s tone seemed light, but there was a notable frown on his face. “I can tell she knows I’m withholding information.”

“I think the police also think that. The cop I talked to earlier seemed upset I didn’t give him more information,” Sam admitted before she moved forward to give him a quick hug. “How are you doing considering…?” She gestured vaguely to his body. “You still owe me a date, you know.”

A chuckle escaped him. “I know I do, but they need to let me out of here first. Then we can play it by ear.” He brought his hand to his chest. “Some of my vitals are wonky because of… what happened, so the doctors want to observe me for a while still.” His eyes grew distant as he continued, “Overall, I think I’m okay, but this place makes me so uncomfortable. There is so much emotion, and… I think they’re remnants of people who died. They might be ghosts, but they seem so wispy compared to what we saw. Clockwork told me that place corrupted ghosts over time, so maybe that’s what it is. The ghosts here aren’t corrupted.”

“Dude, I feel you about hospitals being creepy. The only reason I’m here is to visit you two,” Tucker admitted as he removed his hat and wrung it. “But what do you mean by emotion?”

There was a green tinge to Danny’s eyes as he glanced at them. “I can feel… maybe taste… the fear and grief in this place. I don’t like it.”

After sharing a concerned look with Tucker, Sam gently patted Danny’s shoulder. “There are old stories that say ghosts seem to respond to strong emotions. Maybe that’s what it is.”

“Maybe.” His reply was half-hearted.

“So, how exactly did you get back? And how did the visit with Clockwork go?” Tucker questioned as he sat on the only chair in the room, leaving Sam to rest on the end of his bed.

“Frostbite brought me back after we got the report that you were attacked, he led me to a different portal as the one you went through already closed.” His head tilted as he thought about it. “Clockwork was very unsettled by the events. He’s the ghost of time, by the way, and I don’t think I ever want his job.” After catching their confused stares, Danny launched into a hushed explanation of what Clockwork told him.

“You’re telling me the ghost of time missed seeing that weird thing?” It was Tucker who finally broke the stunned silence after Danny finished. “He’s not very good at his job, is he?”

Danny shook his head. “I don’t think it’s Clockwork’s fault. From what I caught, it seems what or whoever is employing those things, they are able to move in his blind spots.”

“You said something about how those things are looking to steal kids. Do you think we have to worry about them?” Although Sam wasn’t too worried about herself, she did have small cousins that while they were brats, she had no desire to see them harmed.

“I’m not sure. I wasn’t given too much information about them, and I don’t exactly have a way to try to find a way to find out either.”

“Hmm… When my parents finally allow me out of here, I’ll go through my collection of folklore and mythology. I know it’s a long shot, but maybe there’s a mention of something like what you described.”

“Oooh! That’s a good idea. Why didn’t I think of that?” Tucker smacked himself on the head as he brought out his PDA. After a few quick button pushes, he held it up. “I now have a program running to see if there are any recent reports of those things? It might take a bit of filtering to get around CreepyPastas, but I think it’ll work.”

Danny gave them a trembling smile. “Thanks guys.”

Their conversation soon drifted to more mundane things like school and imagining Sam’s parents going on a rampage against the school district. Their conversation came to an end after Danny’s parents entered the room, a little more excited than normal. They clearly wanted to discuss something in private, so Sam and Tucker excused themselves. Tucker then walked Sam back to her room, where her nurse was waiting for them.

xxxxxx

The next day, Danny was release from the hospital under strict orders he needed to be carefully monitored. His temperature and blood pressure were still on the low side, but he seemed to be healthy. Uncertain whether or not that was his new baseline, they figured his parents would return him to the hospital if he took a turn for the worst. So, he would be allowed to stay home from school for about a week.

If he was honest, he didn’t think he parents would be too motivated to keep an eye on him as they had a new toy to keep their attention. While he, his friends, and classmates were lost in the world of the dead, his parents managed to punch open a hole into that very place with an invention they had been working on for decades. Most of their waking moments were spent hovering around it and taking measurements.

He didn’t understand why they would make such a thing. Its energy infected everything in the house. He doubted his parents or sister were able to feel it unless they stood in front of it, but that energy thrummed in his very core. It wasn’t exactly a comforting feeling, but it seemed to calm the constant fighting between his human and ghostly forms. He supposed he should be at least thankful for that as it helped prevent slip ups around his family.

That had been the most nerve wracking aspect of his changes. His energy often surged without warning which triggered some sort of ghostly ability that both Frostbite and Clockwork neglected to mention to him. His body parts liked to inappropriately pass through solid objects or disappear for a few minutes at a time. It often went away after a few frantic moments of trying to fix the problem. He had yet to tell his friends about it.

For the most part, he kept to himself and in his room while he was under this surveillance period. However, he still had bodily needs. So, he would venture to the kitchen for snacks.

A couple hours after dinner, he went downstairs for one such snack. He found his sister in the living room watching breaking news regarding a disappearance of a teen. As he listened to the reporter, a strange chill ran through him. That chill worsened after they showed a photo of the girl – she was an underclassman at his school.

“How long have you been standing there?” Jazz demanded after she realized he was there. Had he really been that quiet?

“Long enough. What exactly happened to her?” He moved to sit down on the couch with her.

“After what just happened to you, I don’t think you should listen.”

He rolled his eyes. “Jazz, I’m fine. Besides, I already heard enough to know she went missing around the same time me and my classmates did.”

Jazz narrowed her eyes as she seemingly examined him for some unknown sign. When she didn’t find it, she sighed and caught him up. “She and her family went on a normal hike on a short trail outside the city. When she didn’t come back at the designated time, a search party went looking for her. She was found unharmed near a bend the creek that follows that trail.” She paused as she scratched her head. “It doesn’t seem too unusual, but something her parents said in an interview is bugging me. They said she seemed like an entirely different person after she was found. I’m trying to get more information to see if I have any information that might be able to help them.”

“You probably shouldn’t stick your nose in it.”

The expression she shot him went from offended to sheepish as she backtracked. “Well… I wasn’t going to directly get involved. I was just going to send a message to their doctors if I could find a psychological change that could help with their prognoses. I wonder if they’d let me do a case study on her for my class.” Jazz had received special permission to return home for a couple weeks to make sure Danny was fine. However, true to form, she had promised to work on any potential projects due the time period.

“Jazz… I’m serious. You shouldn’t get involved.” When Jazz looked like she was going to argue with him, he gave her the most intense glare he could muster. “You have no idea what might have happened to her. Getting involved when you shouldn’t, might make it worse, or you might get yourself involved in something you’ll end up regretting.”

She floundered as she tried to find her words. If he didn’t know any better, she almost seemed afraid. “I don’t understand you,” she eventually told him. “You’ve never taken such an interest in any of my previous projects.”

Danny just rubbed his temples. Jazz didn’t tend to back down from anything unless she had a sound argument. “Jazz, I’m telling you, there’s something wrong here. Don’t approach her.”

“Are you implying that her temporary disappearance has something to do with what happened to you and your classmates?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but call it a gut feeling.”

She gently patted his shoulder. “I know what this is about.”

“You do?”

She gave him a pitying look. “Because your situations are so similar, you’re projecting your fears and experience on to her.”

“What? That’s not it at all!”

“You just keep telling yourself that, little brother.” With that phrase, she effectively dismissed anything else he had to say.

Still unsettled, Danny excused himself and went back to his room to see if he could find any more information as to what happened to the underclassman and to alert Sam and Tucker to the information. While he was able to get little more than the information he heard on the news report, the feeling something else was wrong wouldn’t leave him.

[norabrice1701]

An Offer Received - Part IV

A Jaguar Villain Tom Hiddleston Character (Thomas Conrad) fanfic

Pairing: Thomas Conrad x Fem!reader

Summary: Life as Mr. Conrad’s foot soldier has consequences.

Rating: Controlling behavior, threats, f-bombs, Dark!Conrad 

Previously: Part III.2 - 5 Months

A/N: Still here, and still going! The life delay took longer than anticipated, but excited to wrap this up! Thank you to everyone who’s liked and followed this tale! 

GIF credit to original poster via the Tumblr search! 

Part IV - 5 Minutes 

You only limped for two weeks while the incisions healed. But every time you took a step, you swore you could still feel the VI emblazoned in your skin. His mark. His brand. A constant reminder of what you’d been folded into. And, worse, given your word to support.

It should repulse you more, but strangely…it hadn’t been bad so far. Nothing in the office environment changed. You still reviewed divisional output, provided daily briefings, and assisted with whatever Mr. Conrad needed to keep LOKI as the industry frontrunner. He remained just as cold and detached as he had before he marked you, except for a searing, possessive gleam that darkened his eyes if you held his gaze for too long. As if he dared you to give the situation a voice, dared you to press him for everything that remained unspoken. 

But you bided your time. At first, you had wondered – now that you were a marked foot soldier – if you would be privileged to know more about the mysterious Operation ‘Blue Sea’. But apparently there were still limits to Mr. Conrad’s trust. As infuriating and frustrating as it was. 

It made you wonder if he could actually do it. Would he build the sixth greatest empire that the world had ever known? Was that even possible? And if he failed, what then? How many foot soldiers would go down with him?

Those thoughts shouldn’t concern you right now, though. Mr. Conrad had a meeting in 29 minutes and he needed your notes from this morning’s divisional alignment meeting. Your fingers flew over the keyboard with swift accuracy, recounting the discussion as it happened and nothing more. Mr. Conrad was more than capable of drawing his own conclusions. 

“Hey, you.”

The familiar voice warmed your insides and you couldn’t help but look up with a smile. Sebastian Barnes had always been handsome with his dark hair and stormy eyes, and those lips that always edged a playful smile. You’d been surrounded by so much cold precision as of late and Sebastian was a welcome wave of comforting warmth. 

He chuckled softly, gaze dancing over your face. “It’s good to see you, too. Been a while.”

You hummed in consideration. “Too long, probably.”

“Too long, but hopefully not too late.” He glanced around the office suite. “Swanky new digs. It’s obvious the new gig agrees with you. Certainly suits you, anyway. Mr. Conrad’s never had someone represent him so directly.”

You arched a dubious brow. “He doesn’t trust me that much.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re good at everything you set out to accomplish. I admired that about you from the start.” His smile brightened boyishly as he stole a quick glance to Conrad’s closed doors before turning back. “But hey, I was wondering if we...could do dinner tonight. We’re both guilty of work getting in the way, but…I think I’d like to make that change. At least, for myself - new year, new resolution and all that. So, yeah….dinner tonight?”

Your throat tightened, so desperate to say yes, to enjoy a night of easy conversation and free laughter outside the delicate web of Conrad’s design. But how could you possibly take that risk? You shook your head slowly, regret softening your face. “That sounds wonderful, Sebastian, really - but I’m…I’m not available. Tonight...or any other night.”

His brow pinched in obvious confusion. “No? Oh, no – please don’t tell me I’m too late. What…is there – is it me? Or…someone else?”

You bit your lip, not wanting to lie to him. “I – yeah, I guess you could say there’s someone else.”

“How did I lose out, huh? We had a good thing – good, if infrequent. How did I get bumped out of line?”

It was a fair question. You’d never said you were exclusive with Sebastian, but you weren’t the kind of girl to play a string of lovers. You sighed, glancing quickly to the clock on your computer screen. Time was running out before Conrad’s meeting. “I didn’t mean for it to happen,” you started softly, “it had nothing to do with you – I really did enjoy our nights together. But this other guy, he just…just swept me up.”

That seemed to take him aback as he pulled a confused face. “What does that even mean?” He glanced up from you, around the suite. All at once, an idea flashed on his face, revulsion and disbelief seeping into his eyes. “Oh, Christ…I didn’t want to believe it. But it’s true, isn’t it?” He stared at you as if he’d never seen you before. “You did fuck him to get the job.”

“No, god no. I didn’t fuck him to get the job.”

“Oh, so you just fucked him after you got the job?”

You glared up at him, feeling your cheeks flush, betraying the truth. “It’s not like that.”

“Jesus.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair and down his face. His eyes locked to you, passing undeniable judgment. “I defended you, you know. I thought ‘no, she’s above sleeping with a guy for professional gain.’ I mean, you slept with me with nothing to gain.”

“Sebastian, stop talking. Please-.”

“How could there possibly be another explanation?” He studied your face, tilting his head as he seized on another idea. “Wait…please don’t tell me that you actually like that cold bastard?”

“It’s…it’s complicated.”

“It’s really not. Unless he forced you…,” he blinked, eyes probing your face for more, “please don’t tell me he forced you. Or, better yet…please do. It would be gratifying to take down that smug son of a bitch.”

“No, he didn’t force me. And you should really stop talking now.” You cast a sideways glance towards the still closed double doors. “You do realize that he can probably hear you.”

“Don’t know that I care much. Whatever he did to you, said to you…he stole you from me. And that…,” he paused for a breath, sadness seeping into his face, “that hurts, you know. I like you – well, I did like you. But I guess you weren’t the girl I thought you were.”

You sighed, welling with heartache and hoping this would be the end. The last thing you wanted was for Conrad to make an unwelcome appearance, so better to just rip the bandage off. “Yeah...I guess not.”

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it just as quick. He half-nodded, still looking hurt and baffled, but then he turned for the office suite doors. Your heart longed to call out after him – he really was a decent guy who deserved someone better than you. Someone better and stronger who wouldn’t have fallen into Conrad’s calculating clutches.

The hydraulic hinge hissed as the door closed behind him and tears stung your eyes. You bowed your head, fighting them back. You knew that you needed to focus now – this meeting was soon. Your notes were expected. You could cry all night, pound the pillows in frustration, and numb yourself with wine later. Later.

“…Darling?”

Your head shot up on the gentle endearment, startled at the suddenness of the voice.

Conrad stared down at you with an alarmingly compassionate, concerned edge. His expression looked so genuine, but you knew him well enough now to know that it wasn’t genuine. How could it be? He hadn’t been genuine with you since that first meeting.

“Darling,” he repeated, his voice so achingly tender, “you look so terribly upset.”

You forced yourself to summon a smile, hoping your eyes and cheeks weren’t too telltale red. “I’m fine, really. Just...early spring allergies.” You sniffled, mostly for effect, but also to help clear your tears. “But I do appreciate your concern, sir.”

He shook his head, the concerned façade disappearing to reveal pure disgust. “You’re a terrible liar, and you should know better.” He crossed behind your desk in a predatory flash, standing alongside your chair, a firm hand on the back to hold you steady. You breathed deep his subtle cologne as he leaned down, warm breath against your ear. “Tell me the truth. Right now. Otherwise…well, you remember what I said about punishment?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, hanging your head. What did you have to lose? Sebastian already thought the worst of you. You already wore Conrad’s brand. You swallowed hard. “A lover’s quarrel, that’s all. A quarrel that ended hurtfully.”

Chilled fingertips crept across the skin of your neck. “Good girl. Though, I confess myself disappointed - you never told me that I was second. That someone else in this building was first to convince you to spread your legs.” 

You froze, suddenly confused. “I...I wasn’t a virg-”. Your words choked off as his hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough. Panic rose in your chest as you forced yourself to keep breathing. 

“Don’t be stupid.” His words were little more than a deadly hiss. “It would be embarrassing for a woman of your age to still wear that mantle. Just as I won’t be made a fool of playing second fiddle to a man like Barnes.” His thumb stroked delicately against your skin as he continued to hold you, lips skimming the shell of your ear. “So, you will tell me each detail - how he touched you, how he fucked you. And only when I am satisfied - only when you have earned it, and you’re begging me - will I fuck you until you forget his name and yours.” 

You twitched in your chair, feeling your heart race. Nothing about that should sound appealing, but some dark part of you thrilled at his show of dominance. Even if it was, at base level, nothing better than a threat. 

You swallowed, gaze darting to your computer clock to stall for time. “But, sir -.” You gasped as his hold tightened. 

“You’re not invited to speak unless asked a direct question.” 

“But - your meeting!” You tried again, voice ragged. “The notes you need-.” 

He sneered a discomforting laugh. “Fuck the meeting. Believe me, this time next week - it won’t matter.” 

Fear raced along your spine, both at his words, and the sudden withdrawal of his hand and suffocating presence. You gasped for breath, trying not to jump as strong fingers pressed to the underside of your chin, tilting it sideways and up to look at him. 

His eyes burned with dark, glacial fire, his posture the mark of controlled composure. “My office. Five minutes.” 

He turned for his office, nothing hurried in his stride, and you drew a deep breath. You didn’t realize you’d forgotten to breathe as the words slammed home in your brain. 

His office. Five minutes. Fuck the meeting. Everything he expected you to tell him. 

You rested your head in your hands, fighting to bury every last feeling you had for Barnes. They wouldn’t help you, and you refused to give Conrad the satisfaction of seeing you cry. Perhaps you could - well, not lie exactly - but stretch the truth. What you shared with Barnes was not Conrad’s business, and if he thought he could make you think differently...then, he had another thing coming. If he wanted to control you, flay you open and rebuild you in his image, then...then you damn well wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. 

Two minutes now. You hit the ‘do not disturb’ setting on your phone and computer status before rising, steeling yourself. Your heels sank into the carpet as you approached his open office door. 

He stood at his desk, grey suit jacket slung across the back of his chair as his fingers worked at his tie. Your throat went dry at the sight - he’d never been seen around the office without his tie perfectly placed. 

With a whisper of fabric, he pulled it free from his shirt collar, letting it drop to his desk. His gaze landed on yours as his fingers turned to his cufflinks. “Close the door.” 

Your heart accelerated, feeling the heady pulse of adrenaline as you followed his order.

The cufflink clinked to the glass desktop, nimble fingers now rolling up his sleeves to expose strong forearms. “You understand my expectations?” 

You bit your lip. “Yes, sir.”

He turned his attention to his other sleeve, letting the anticipation, the tension build. 

His office had never felt so suffocating, the air so thick you might choke. You watched as he came around the front of his desk, fingers skimming the discarded tie in an unspoken threat, an unspoken promise. An unbidden current of heat flared to life within you. 

He leveled you with those piercing eyes. “Now, where were we?” 

Up Next: Part V - 5 Days

[dearlazerbunny]

Not So Bad After All

Pairings: Takashi Morinozuka x Reader

Genre/Ratings: G; descriptions of a panic attack

Words: 2200

Summary: Requested by anonymous; who wanted secret-boyfriend-Mori to come to the rescue during a panic attack (and Tamaki’s reaction at discovering the secret couple). There’s dancing, y’all, that’s all I’m gonna say. 

“Okay,” you murmur to yourself, low enough so that the hordes of people around you won’t hear. “This isn’t so bad, right?” You glance around at the students darting between booths of cotton candy and carnival games, laughing as they pull friends by the hand through the crowd to their next big adventure. It smells of popcorn and sugar, and brightly-colored stuffed animals sway in the spring breeze and catch your gaze. It’s a chaotic but cheerful scene, and despite your hesitation the atmosphere does tug at something light in your chest. “I’ll just find the boys, say hello, then look for quietest corner to hide in…”

Easier said than done. The receiving line to see the club- they’re holding court in the center of the fair, surrounded by twinkling lights and lush landscaping- is miles long, with dozens of girls clamoring for a spot in line closer to their idols. Luckily, you catch Haruhi’s eye and she smiles and waves you over to a little side area that doesn’t have any foot traffic. She nudges Tamaki and says something in his ear, then leads a few others over to you while the ever-popular king keeps the rest of the crowd occupied.

“Hey Y/N!” She waves, her smile bright. “We thought you weren’t gonna make it!”

“Y/N-chaaaaaaan!” Honey’s small self elbows through the throng and tackles you in an enthusiastic hug, making you laugh and ruffle his hair. “I’m so glad you’re here! Did you see the cotton candy? It’s shaped like flowers!”

“Hi, Honey,” you giggle. “Yes, I saw the fairy floss, and it looks bigger than your head.”

He grins. “That’s the best part!”

“You’ll get sick, Mitsukuni.” Mori taps his cousin on the head, then lifts him onto his shoulders. “Remember what happened last time?”

“Um…. No?”

You snort. “How convincing. Do I want to know?”

“Noooooo, nope, no you do not.” Haruhi is adamantly making the abort mission signal. “So, what are you going to do first?”

“Mmmm, not sure. Maybe the bumper cars? As long as it isn’t the Ferris wheel I’ll be fine,” you joke. You are really not a fan of heights.

“Haruhiiiiiiiiiii? Where is Haruhi? Is she lost?!”

Said girl in question rolls her eyes at you dramatically. “Senpai calls. I’ll catch up with you later, yeah?”

“HARUHIIIIIIIIII-”

“Calm down, Tamaki, I’m coming!”

You have to smother your giggles with a hand over your mouth as you watch an exasperated a Haruhi storm back over to the group. “She’s got him bent around her little finger, doesn’t she?”

“Thoroughly.” Mori turns his attention back to you, and you can’t help but take in how handsome he looks with the lights glinting in his eyes and the rare chance to see him out of uniform.

“Hi,” you say shyly, reaching up in your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Busy night?” He makes an obviously unhappy noise of agreement. “I’ll wander around a bit and meet back up with you at the end, then? Don’t eat too much candy,” you gently rebuke Honey, pinching his toes. He sticks his tongue out at you playfully.

The pair eventually get back to their hosting- though not before Mori returns your kiss- and you watch them go a bit sadly. Mori loves his friends and likes his hobby, even if it does take time away from you. Winding through a busy carnival does sound romantic after all- he’d probably win every prize in the booth for you if you wanted. The thought makes you smile.

“Y/N! Hey!” You turn and just as your classmate Ann makes her way towards you. “What’s up?”

“Not much.” You give her a wave. “Just killing time. You?”

“Well, I was trying to get Hikaru’s attention, but considering I’m still here alone you can see how well that’s going…” she sighs, annoyed. Ann’s been hooked on the twin for months now, and it’s times like this you’re glad nobody knows about you and Mori because you just know she’d try and use you for an in with him. “Anyways. You here with anyone? Wanna be fair buddies?”

“Ummm…” it wouldn’t be your first choice, but Ann is harmless most of the time… “sure, why not?”

“Cool!” She gives you a wide smile. “I know exactly what I want to do- the Ferris wheel! Come on!”

Your eyes widen as she grabs your arm. “Oh, no, um, I’m probably just going to stick to the games-”

“Oh come on, Y/N, don’t kill the mood. It’ll be fun!” You squeak as she yanks you towards the ride, unable to get yourself out from her grip.

Despite every excuse you can think of- why don’t I just wait for you here? I can go get us some food! I heard Hikaru was hanging out by the ski ball- you’re somehow ushered into an incredibly rickety looking basket that’s swinging from rusty hinges. Ann is excited, talking a mile a minute, but you feel like you’re holding your stomach in with your hands. The clang the metal door makes as the operator locks you in sounds like a death sentence.

“Ooooooo, here we go!” The cab lurches forward and everything in you lurches with it, slowly pulling the two of you skywards.

“Oh god oh god oh god-” you’re frantically mumbling under your breath, trying to keep yourself together, but you can feel your heartbeat beginning to race and your fingers fumble nervously for some sort of purchase. “I don’t- can they stop the ride? I need to get off now!”

“Whoa, hey, Y/N- are you okay?”

“I can’t-!” The words choke up your throat, and pretty soon a full fledged panic attack is hovering just in the brink of your vision. Everything is too hot and too bright and too loud and you can’t breathe at all- the ride lurches as you halt at the top of the wheel, and a shriek escapes from you before you can hold it back- loud enough to make Ann jump.

“Jesus-! Okay, just, just calm down okay? It’ll be over soon, everything is totally fine, okay?”

You try to listen to her words, hands pressed to your face in effort to stop tears from rolling down your cheeks, but your breathing is still achy and off-tempo. The whole way down is a nightmare, every little shake of your seat setting off a torrent of new anxiety. You’ve practically leapt from the ride before it even touches down; stumbling down the steps and into the crowd with a red face and and shaky hands. Even worse, everyone is looking, watching you completely freak out, and you can’t get yourself to stop-

“Y/N.” Mori appears in front of you, tall enough to block out some of the blinding lights. “What’s happened?” You shake your head, too overwhelmed to speak. “Breathe. You’re safe.”

He keeps talking, just like he has every other time he’s helped you through a panic attack. It helps to listen to his voice; ever calm and unruffled, a cool contrast to the thoughts in your head racing a million miles a minute. He takes your hand as well, rubbing small circles with his thumb. “Y/N? Dance with me.”

You look up at him, choking back tears. “Mori- you- we can’t-”

Protesting doesn’t stop him from gently tugging you closer. You slip your arms around him almost in relief, letting yourself rest your forehead against his chest. His own hands drop to your waist, an incredibly familiar gesture that instantly slows your heart to a more manageable level.

It’s a callback to your first meeting- some gala so many years ago- where the long and formal night was starting to wear on your nerves something fierce. Mori had been kind enough to talk to a complete stranger, to joke with you and bring you a drink when you were clearly in no place to get one yourself. When he’d asked you to dance, you’d marveled that on the ballroom floor with his hand on your waist was the calmest you’d felt all night. Ever since, the two of you would ask each other to dance- to make the other take a break from homework, to celebrate a victory or cheer up after defeat, or just to make each other laugh. And at times like now, when the only thing that will get through to your overwhelmed senses is the feeling of his heartbeat as he sways with you back and forth.

“What are they doing…?” Tamaki comments, seeing the two of you dance quietly amidst a bustling walkway. You’re drawing some looks, but neither of you seem to notice- lost in your own world. “He’ll ruin the mood! This is not what we’re doing today, Mori-senpai!!”

“Is YN-chan okay?” Honey says worriedly, noting your red face.

“Let’s leave them alone. We’ll figure it out later.”

“But- but Haruhi, my carnival!”

“Tamaki I swear to god-”

…

When the crowds clear and all the girls have gone home, the eight of are you are left at a picnic table to watch crews of servants effectively bundle away the tents and booths. Honey is drowning in several newly-acquired plushies, the twins are devouring leftover food, and Kyoya is marking figures in his journal with a pleased expression on your face. You’re sitting next to Mori, probably closer than you should, but your nerves are still frayed. Haruhi is on the other side of you, occasionally sliding you worried glances. “So, um… is everything okay, Y/N? You seem a little…”

“Weird. Were you crying earlier?” Hikaru asks with his usual tact, words garbled from the popcorn in his cheeks. Haruhi shoots him a glare.

“Oh, um…” you fumble over an explanation until Mori subtly bumps your knee with his, grounding you. “I had a bit of a panic attack. A friend got me on the Ferris wheel and heights are…” you shiver a little. “But, um. Mori helped me, so. I’m better now.”

“Oh yeah, we saw that. Were you dancing?” The redhead raises a cocky eyebrow. “Care to explain?”

“Yes, care to explain?” Tamaki pipes in, his arms crossed and brow furrowed. “I thought we agreed that the theme was to be upbeat, casual, and fun! Dancing was not on the schedule!”

Your cheeks flame. “It’s just- something we do, sometimes.”

“Oh, because it’s a crime to dance with your girlfriend now?” Haruhi defends you with a nudge to your shoulder. “Geez, Tamaki, lay off.”

“Wha- G- Girlfriend?!” Tamaki sputters. “Mori-senpai does not have a girlfriend!” You look at the blonde skeptically. No, you hadn’t told them, but you thought they would’ve figured it out by now on their own… Mori seems to be thinking the same, giving you an amused glance. Haruhi is similarly looking at him in open disbelief, a gaze that says how thick can you be; Honey is giggling behind his hand, and even Kyoya raises a pointed eyebrow. Tamaki stares at all of you, not getting it. Then, very deliberately, Mori takes your hand in his and tangles your fingers together, right in front of the boy’s face.

“MORI HAS A GIRLFRIEND?!”

Kaoru almost chokes at his sudden change in volume. “Geez, boss, settle down!”

“But- but I- why did no one tell me? Who knew of this… this conspiracy!?”

Now even you have to hold back a laugh- Tamaki being ridiculous never fails to make you smile. You raise the hand not attached to Mori, and you can hear Mori’s laughter rumbling in his chest as he raises his as well. Honey sticks his bun-bun’s pink furry paw in the air, Haruhi holds up two fingers with an amused smirk, and even Kyoya puts a slender hand in the air.

The twins, for their part, just glance at each other and shrug. “We could’ve guessed.”

“Wha- you knew? And you kept it from me?” He rounds on Kyoya, his violet eyes wide and brimming dramatically with unshod tears. “But why, Kyoya-senpai?”

“Well, they asked me to, for one,” Kyoya says in his dry sarcasm. “I believe they were afraid you’d react along the lines of-” he gestures at Tamaki. “This.”

“That is hardly fair! As leader of this club I should know everything that goes on! I should-” he goes on, whining and pleading and arguing at Kyoya who very pointedly keeps a straight face and nods at the appropriate times while his best friend continues his rant.

“Well.” You glance at your boyfriend. “I suppose that worked out, then?”

“Something like that,” he agrees. He still hasn’t let go of your hand.

“Just for the record,” Haruhi leans in. “I think the dancing thing is cute.”

You shove her away, embarrassed, as the twins let loose some cat calls and Honey claps enthusiastically in agreement. “You guys are the worst,” you grumble, but you give Haruhi a smile anyways as you lean into the kiss Mori presses to the top of your head.

A/N: I had to throw in the “Mori, this is not what we’re doing today!” line XD��

[mithranqueersmusings]

Before This Dance Is Through IV

Chapter: 4/16

Rating: U

Summary: Ringo's being going through a dry spell for the last year or so and when he regretfully tells his best friend John, he insists on taking them to an all-male strip club for some "fun". Ringo isn't sure whether it's the alcohol, his desperation or a mixture of the two but he thinks he might be falling in love with a stripper.

Tags: AU - Strippers, Modern Setting, Smut, Slow Burn

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

Once Ringo had managed to compose himself, which took far longer than he'd care to admit, he ventured back out into the chaos of the club in search of John. He wasn't difficult to find, standing at the front of the stage cheering - practically screaming - and waving money around to get the dancer's attention. Unsurprisingly, the dancer was Paul. He was currently spinning around the pole with one hand, his ankles entwined to give him support. It was quite a beautiful sight, Ringo thought, watching his gentle movements. The club was considerably more empty by this point and the remainder of the customers had circled around the stage. Ringo slinked past a few drunken layabouts as he made his way over to John, he had to shout in his ear just to get his attention.

"Oh, Ringo!" John grinned, his breath stank of whiskey "How'd it go?"

"A little too well." Ringo chuckled, he coaxed John to sit down.

"Did he almost kill you this time?" John only passed Ringo a few glances, mostly his attention was on Paul.

"I think he did kill me. Then brought me back. Then killed me again." Ringo picked up John's drink and took a sip "Are they supposed to touch you?"

John paused his shouting for a moment "Touch you how?"

"Just... Y'know, touching. Getting me to touch him, him touching my chest." Ringo decided to leave out the crotch contact, he still wasn't sure whether it was intentional or not.

"Oh yeah, that's fine. As long as you're both consenting o'course. And as long as he's not dropping on his knees and sucking you off." John laughed and Ringo almost choked on the drink, the image those words conjured up was a surprising one.

"How much longer are you planning on staying?" Ringo settled back in his seat and turned his attention to Paul.

"Why? You in a hurry to get home and bash one out?" John nudged him without pulling his eyes away from the stage.

"Speak for yourself." Ringo scoffed, he didn't see the point in denying it.

"We can head out after Paulie's done." John nodded to gesture towards the man in question.

"Fine." Ringo stretched his legs out in front of him.

If he hadn't been so exhausted from Spike, Ringo probably would've gotten a little excited watching Paul but he was completely worn out. John had a shine in his eyes that Ringo didn't see very often, and his happiness was definitely contagious. They sat watching Paul for another two songs, during which he exhibited a ridiculous amount of core strength that Ringo could only dream of ever achieving. It was obvious that John was hoping to catch Paul before they headed back home, as much as he was trying to hide it, and Ringo probably would've hung around with him had he not been so exhausted or so sure that John was probably going to be back here within the week. In truth the main reason Ringo wanted to get out of there so quickly was because he didn't want to risk seeing Spike again, or rather Spike seeing him again; Ringo happily could've watched him from a safe distance all night but as soon as Spike was looking right back at him, knowing what Ringo was thinking, that was too much.

The cold night air stung Ringo's face and hands as they stepped back out into the street. Luckily his car wasn't too far away and while he was perhaps a little too tipsy to be driving he made sure he stayed off the main roads and never went over the speed limit - he could drive recklessly when he was sober but he'd never risk that when he was drunk. John was the only one talking on the drive back to his place, mostly rambling about things Ringo couldn't understand so he just nodded along and made affirming noises.

John leaned on Ringo for support as they walked up to his front door, Ringo knew he wasn't so drunk that he couldn't walk but he tended to do this when he was feeling a little lonely. Ringo had gotten more than used to it by now, he'd had to carry John to bed bridal style many times over the years so this was nothing. John fell face first down onto his bed which was still unmade and either fell asleep immediately or wanted Ringo to think he had. It had almost become a routine by this point: Ringo drove them home, carried John up to his room, left a glass of water by his bed and tidied up a few bits and pieces on his way out. Occasionally he'd check in John's fridge to see if he had any food in and if it was empty, which it often was, he'd offer to buy or cook the two of them dinner the next day. Ringo wasn't the subtlest about it sometimes, once or twice he'd even shown up with bags filled with groceries and left after handing them over without much of an explanation. John never acknowledged any of these things Ringo did, at least not verbally, but Ringo knew he appreciated them and he was sure John repaid the favour in some ways he wasn't aware of, or very aware of in the case of tonight.

Exhaustion hit like a strong wave once Ringo finally got back to his own place. He kicked off his shoes carelessly in the hallway and staggered into his bedroom; he didn't dare look at the time before he slid into bed, just chucked his phone into the furthest corner hoping that he'd remembered to set his alarm for the following morning. As soon as his head hit the pillow he expected to fall asleep almost instantly but his brain had other ideas. His body was definitely ready for sleep, his eyes were stinging and his muscles ached a little yet his mind was racing. This didn't happen a lot. Ringo was notoriously known for how well he slept and how loudly he snored but tonight that wasn't the case. He couldn't shake the images of the night from his mind or how warm Spike's skin had felt beneath his fingertips or the inviting smell of him. Ringo let out a groan as he tossed and turned, as though vigorous movement would throw the thoughts out of his head. The last thing he wanted to do was give into the urge but the first thing he wanted to do was sleep, and it was a pretty strong urge. Was there any better way to get to sleep than a quick orgasm? Probably. Ringo just had to tell himself that he was doing this purely for that purpose, as he wanked himself off under the covers with his eyes scrunched tightly and his brain filled with thoughts of Spike.

The following day was fairly uneventful, Ringo was up on time to sit eating breakfast in front of the television for an hour before he had to head out for work. It was his weekly lesson with a kid called Peter, he was nice enough and his parents were more than pleasant if not a little stupid. He'd been working with Peter for almost a year and while he'd made a great deal of progress since their first lesson he wasn't showing a massive amount of promise, but at least he was trying. Sometimes Ringo felt like speaking to his parents privately and breaking the news that their son wasn't going to become a world famous drummer, probably not even a locally famous one, but he needed the money too much. Peter was better than a lot of Ringo's students, most of which had watched Whiplash a few too many times and decided they wanted to be the next John Bonham only to give up in two months because it was 'too hard'.

After their lesson ended Ringo decided to walk around town for a little while, usually he'd be out in search of lunch by now but Peter's parents always prepared him some food which he was never too polite to refuse - after all smoked salmon was considerably more appetising than a tepid sausage roll from Greggs. He decided to pop into his favourite record shop, although it wasn't like there were many others to choose from. Despite the accessibility to music his phone provided, Ringo always had a deep love for vinyl records; they were nostalgic somehow, even if they had no significance to his own childhood. Like most record shops, this one sold a fair bit of vintage clothing too although Ringo was never too interested in that. He didn't really have any particular record in mind as he walked in so ended up browsing through the plethora of options. There was only one other person in the shop, excluding the owner who sat behind the counter and gave Ringo a welcoming smile, but it sounded like there were a couple of people downstairs in the clothing section. As Ringo began to flick through some of the records his phone buzzed in his pocket.

        can you bring me coffee???

It was John, which was a little surprising considering he usually didn't wake up until far later in the afternoon if he'd been drinking heavily the night before.

         hello to you too

        i dont have time for formalities i need COFFEE

         why dont you have any coffee in your house

         i dont have time for questions either

         any coffee in particular my liege?

         ha ha          just get me one from maccies pleaseeee

         fine im just in town atm can you wait like 10 mins

         suppose ill have to

         suddenly im too busy

         shut up just bring me coffee ill love you forever and all that

         i should bloody think so too

Ringo chuckled to himself quietly as he put his phone back into his pocket, he took a final quick look at the stack of records then began making his way outside. Before he could make it to the door he suddenly collided with someone who had been turning up from the staircase, which resulted in a few pieces of clothing flying upwards and landing on the ground. Ringo began apologising immediately, crouching down to pick up the clothes to hand them back over. As he straightened back up to apologise for perhaps the fourth time he froze upon seeing exactly who he'd bumped into.

"Spike." Ringo blurted out, his brain had decided to throw the name out as soon as it crossed his mind.

"Only after 9." He responded instantaneously, it must've been a frequent line he used "Do I... Oh! It's you."

"The very same." Ringo chuckled nervously, he wondered whether he'd actually recognised him or was just being polite - Ringo couldn't decide which one he'd prefer.

It was very strange seeing him like this, so normal that it was abnormal. He was wearing a dark blue turtleneck which framed his sharp jaw and hugged his slim body nicely. Over that lay a yellow beaded necklace and his trousers were a dark suede material; he looked good, somehow more alluring when he was fully clothed. Ringo noticed he was staring, he only hoped that Spike hadn't noticed but it was impossible to tell with the unreadable darkness of his eyes. He cleared his throat, as if he couldn't get any more obvious, then held out the patterned shirt he'd picked up so Spike could take it from him. Their hands brushed slightly at the exchange and Ringo felt the hairs on his arm standing up.

"They're nice, er- Nice clothes." Ringo stammered, yanking his hand back to his side.

"Suppose I should be thanking you for them." Spike replied, there was a faint smile on his lips.

"Oh?" Ringo heard the pitch of his voice rising slightly.

"You helped pay for them." Spike explained, the smile grew.

"Well John paid, really. But he does owe me money so I guess I did pay in a way. Glad to see the money's going somewhere good either way." Ringo rambled, once again his mouth was moving before his brain could stop it.

"Right." Spike said, his tone was very final yet he didn't move to leave.

"I best be getting out of your way so you can actually pay for those." Ringo shuffled sideways towards the door, expecting Spike to step backwards to give him some room but he just stood there looking at him - was it not enough to make him suffer at the club, did he have to punish him now too?

"Are you always this nervous?" Spike grinned.

"No I- You just caught me by surprise is all." Ringo forced himself to take a deep breath.

"Okay." Spike squinted his eyes slightly then turned to head towards the counter.

Ringo was surprised he was able to get back to his car without collapsing, all the tension leaving his body as soon as Spike's eyes were off him made him feel practically boneless. Spike didn't look back at him but Ringo supposed he didn't have to, he would've known he was staring at him. Ringo gripped the steering wheel tightly as he drove, somehow managing to make it to the drive-through without consciously driving there. He ordered a coffee for John and a milkshake for himself, he figured he could do with a pick-me-up after that atrocious encounter. Not once in all the times he'd gone to that shop had he seen Spike there, and it couldn't have been a case of merely not noticing him before because Ringo definitely would've noticed someone looking like that walking around. It felt like God was playing some cruel trick on him, but in reality it was nothing more than a coincidence married with Spike's cruelty which produced that painful exchange. Ringo tried not to think about it as he drove over to John's but his brain had apparently decided to betray him, just as his mouth had done earlier.

John had took a while to answer the door and Ringo began to worry that he'd fallen back asleep - it was times like this that he figured he may as well have a key to his place. When the door swung open, Ringo burst in a little too aggressively and knocked John backwards slightly.

"Jesus, what's crawled up your arse?" John chuckled as he closed the door "Don't tell me the ice cream machine was broken again."

John's presence calmed Ringo significantly but he couldn't shake the tension in his body completely "Guess who I just bumped into." He set the drinks down on John's kitchen table and took a seat.

"Ooh was it that guy from the train station? Or how about-" John took a seat opposite him and gripped the coffee eagerly.

"You're not actually meant to guess." Ringo interrupted, he tried to sound commanding but it was a little difficult when he was holding a strawberry milkshake.

"Then don't say 'guess' you git. The English language is wasted on you." John put his feet up on the table "Who was it then?"

"Spike." Ringo widened his eyes.

"No shit. Really?" John cackled "What happened?"

"I was at that record shop and he was coming up from the basement and I walked straight into him." Ringo explained.

"Nothing straight about it." John mumbled behind his coffee.

"Funny." Ringo glared "It was so fucking embarrassing, I could hardly speak."

"What did he say?" John asked.

"Nothing really. He probably said about three words so I figured he didn't want to talk to me but he just stood there. I didn't want to be rude and just rush out but looking back I probably should've." Ringo sighed.

"Yeah, you probably should've." John snickered.

"Not helping."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I dunno... I'm sure it wasn't that bad or something."

"Well, was it that bad?"

"He asked me if I was always so nervous."

John burst into laughter "Jesus, Ringo. That's pretty bad."

"Guess that's the last time I'll be going to the strip club, or the record shop for that matter."

"Don't be so dramatic. So you were a little awkward in front of him, who cares?"

"I care."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want him thinking I'm some sort of loser."

"Why do you give a shit what he thinks?"

Ringo didn't say anything, he just held his cup tightly and looked at John straight in the eye.

"Look, you've got nothing to get so worked up about. If he thought you were so pathetic he wouldn't have even spoken to you." John lifted his feet off the table and leaned forward in his seat "He's just messing with you, probably thinks it's funny."

"He was smiling." Ringo mumbled.

"Well there you go." John reached his hand forward and poked at Ringo's arm "You're being ridiculous. Chances are you won't bump into him again, you've gone your whole life without doing it before."

"But-" Ringo began.

"No buts! Unless they're butts on the stage covered in leather I don't wanna hear it." John interrupted "Bottom line is you like watching this guy strip right?"

"Well, yeah-" Ringo tried again.

"So what's the problem? It's not like you found out he's your cousin or one of your students, is it?" John smiled warmly.

"Suppose not." Ringo couldn't help smiling too.

"We really need to get you laid, it's making you crazy. I'm supposed to be the crazy one, don't try and take that away from me." John leaned back in his chair again.

"I don't intend to." Ringo chuckled looking down at his feet.

"So... Same time next week?" John raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"You really hate me, don't you?"

"On the contrary! I love you very much, my dear Ringo. That's exactly why I'm gonna take you back there so you can prove you're not some pathetic weirdo."

"How exactly?"

"Just be yourself, you can manage that can't you?"

"Not quite sure I want to."

"Oh hush. Leave the self-deprecation to me if you don't mind." John paused to sip his coffee "This time next week you'll have forgotten all about this, and I'm sure he will too."

"I guess you're right."

But John hadn't been right. Ringo had thought about that small exchange for days. He found himself picking apart every small moment and trying to rationalise it in his mind: had Spike actually recognised him? Why did he just stand there while Ringo tried to squeeze past? Why had been smiling so strangely the whole time? No matter how many answers Ringo tried to give to himself, the whole situation only became more confusing. He felt like a teenager again, stumbling over his words and blushing at the tiniest bit of contact. It was pathetic, shameful really. Maybe if he just took John's advice and actually went and slept with someone all these weird feelings would just be gone. But he didn't want just someone, he wanted him.

[tinylilemrys]

Save the Last Dance - a Reddie fic

Read it on AO3

Rating: T

Word count: 3,980

Tags: fluff and angst, getting together, mentions of PTSD, internalised homophobia, first dance, prom

Summary:

Eddie invites a girl to prom and almost instantly regrets it – even more so when he realises that the reason Richie has been so mad since he asked her and the reason he’s been watching the two of them is probably because Richie has a crush on her.

He’s never been happier to be proven wrong.

Prom was such a fucking waste of time, Eddie decided, watching Chloe Parker dance her fourth dance with Steve Himble, the president of the AV club (who had cleaned up surprisingly well). It wasn’t that he was jealous – he really wasn’t. He’d only asked her to prom a few days ago because she was his lab partner and he’d overheard her complaining to her friend that no one had asked her yet. Before that, he’d been planning to go stag with what was left of the Loser’s club after Mike, Ben and Bev had moved away, a fact which Richie had been only too happy to point out.

“Well that’s just fucking great, isn’t it, Eds?” He’d said, throwing up his arms in frustration. “Stan’s already decided not to fucking go and now you’re flaking out on us too? To go with Chloe fucking Parker of all people? Do you know what happens when two out of four stags stop going stag, Eds? Everyone assumes the last two stags are each other’s little deer boyfriends. Is that what you want to happen to Bill and me?”

Eddie hadn’t had the energy for Richie’s bullshit that day.

“If you’re so worried about looking gay, Richie, I suggest you and Bill grow some balls and actually fucking ask some girls.”

And then he had stormed off, trying very hard not to think about why Richie being scared of going to prom with another guy made him so angry. They hadn’t spoken since then and all the while Eddie hoped and prayed Richie wouldn’t find a date. He didn’t think he would survive it. Thankfully, he was relieved when Richie did, in fact, only show up with Bill.

Best to ignore all those emotions too.

From his table, he watched Richie and Bill leaning against the opposite wall of the gym, talking and drinking cups of the punch that Eddie was sure, in addition to breaking about fifty health code violations, had also been spiked by now (maybe even by Richie himself – he wouldn’t put it past him). Though he hadn’t had a chance to see him up close yet, from this distance Eddie had to admit that Richie looked damn good in a suit. Not that he’d ever tell him. He’d rather down the entire bowl of punch than admit that out loud.

Eddie’s stomach jolted when he realised that Richie was looking back at him, probably wondering why he was staring. He quickly dropped his gaze to his shoes and tried in vain to stop his cheeks flooding with colour.

This was dumb. Why was he sitting here alone waiting for Chloe to come sit down when it was clear that she was having a much better time with Steve anyway? Sighing, he got up from the table and made his way over to his friends.

“Hey, Eddie,” said Bill, clapping a hand to his shoulder. “Sorry it didn’t work out with Chloe.”

Eddie was about to shrug and say it was no big deal when Richie interjected.

“Yeah what’s up with that? Did she feel how tiny your dick is while you were dancing and get scared? I thought she was looking kinda sick.”

“Actually, Trashmouth, she told me it’s because she kept seeing this gangly grotesque creature in bottle cap lenses staring at us. It put her off.” It wasn’t entirely untrue. While it certainly wasn’t true that Richie was grotesque (again, never admitting that out loud), Chloe had pointed out about midway through their first and only dance that Richie was watching them. The knowledge made Eddie so self-conscious that decided he couldn’t bring himself to dance again, hence Steve swooping in to the rescue.

To his surprise, Richie’s eyebrows shot up into the tangle of hair he seemed to only barely have styled and though it was difficult to tell in the colourful lights, Eddie thought Richie might be blushing. He suddenly felt more nauseous than he did when Chloe had offered him a glass of punch earlier. Vaguely he realised that Richie was snapping out of it and hurling some witty retort back at him, but Eddie couldn’t make it out over the blood pounding in his ears at the sudden realisation that the reason Richie had been so mad at him for asking Chloe to prom, the reason he’d been staring at them while they were dancing, was that he liked her.

Suddenly everything made sense and he couldn’t be there anymore, not with the lights and the colours and the people and the Richie of it all. Without thinking twice, he ran as fast as he could outside to the nearest patch of grass and once there, was violently sick.

Most of the time he could deal with his unfortunate crush on his best friend by pretending it didn’t exist. If it was anything, it was just his wild teenage hormones sending him confusing signals. But that didn’t explain why every time Richie got him a thoughtful gift, or their banter was particularly on point, or it was just the two of them in Richie’s car singing along to whatever god-awful song was playing non-stop on the radio at the time, Eddie knew that there was no one else in the world who could make him feel as happy. But as Richie made no secret of his issues with the whole gay thing, it was far safer to just try to convince himself that he wasn’t feeling anything but really strong platonic love for his best friend.

The blood rushing in his ears calmed down enough for Eddie to hear the sound of footsteps running towards him. Worried it might be the Bowers gang, he whipped around in time to be tackled by a pair of long arms and a faceful of curly hair a moment later.

“Eddie, what the fuck man?” says Richie, holding onto him. “Are you okay? You scared the shit out of us.”

“I’m fine, Rich, I was just… I was just a bit overwhelmed in there and panicked,” he replied. Richie didn’t seem to be letting go so he took the opportunity to wrap his arms around him in return. He could feel Richie’s heart racing against his chest and his own seemed to be trying its damndest to catch up with it.

“W-we thought it might be it again,” Bill explained, his voice small and scared, and Eddie realised what he’d accidentally done. It had been almost six years since they beat that fucking clown down in those sewers, but every single one of them still had nightmares about it. Suddenly running away with no explanation was the worst thing he could have done to them.

“God, guys, I’m so sorry,” he said, squeezing his arms tighter around Richie who was shaking. “I just needed air. I wasn’t even thinking that… just, Jesus fuck, I’m sorry.”

“You’d better fucking be,” said Richie, letting go of Eddie and straightening his suit. “I didn’t survive that whole fucking ordeal just to die from a dumbass-induced heart attack at eighteen.”

“If you’re that upset about Chloe, we don’t have to stay, you know,” said Bill, changing the subject. “I think I saw enough of prom to say that I went. How about you, Rich?”

“Yeah, we can go if you want.” Richie turned to Eddie as he replied. His voice was tight and his eyebrows pinched and though Eddie knew that Bill was just trying to steer the conversation away from talk of Pennywise, he wishes he’d chosen any other topic of conversation. He didn’t need the reminder that Richie was mad at him for taking his crush to the prom. “I’ll give you a lift home if you need one, Eds.”

“Please,” Eddie replied with a small smile which, much to his delight, Richie returned

Richie’s car, much like the rest of the man, was a mess. The floor was littered with junk food wrappers and there was a suspicious stain on the backseat that Eddie was convinced was because one of the previous owners had used it to transport a body. It was the reason Eddie always insisted on riding shotgun.

As the car choked hesitantly to a start, he stole a glance at Richie’s profile, silhouetted against the lights outside.

Well, one of the reasons anyway.

“You can just drop me at S-Stan’s,” said Bill from the backseat and Eddie stomach dropped. Bill had been doing so well with his stuttering lately. It still took him a little longer to get through a sentence sometimes, but Eddie hadn’t heard him properly stutter for months. He’d caught on two words tonight already and somehow Eddie knew it was because of him – because he’d scared Bill. “I p-promised I’d come over after.”

“Sure thing,” said Richie, turning right instead of left like he would have done if he was taking Bill home. Eddie’s stomach sank further. He lived a lot closer to Stan than he did to Bill which meant that in dropping Bill off first, the trip was going to be a lot shorter.

“You know they sell cars with turn signals that work, right?” said Eddie to mask his disappointment.

“Where’s the fun in that?” said Richie, smiling for the second time that night. “I like to think I provide my fellow road users with a sense of adventure.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing my mom won’t let me get my licence.”

“Still not?” asked Bill.

“Yeah, Eds, she should know by now that it’s way more dangerous for you to be driving with me.” Richie was frowning the way he always did when Eddie’s mom was brought up outside of the context of sex jokes.

“Yeah, like I’d be dumb enough to tell my mom I let you drive me around.” Eddie rolled his eyes. “She’d find a way to ban you from driving too.”

“She would never,” replied Richie in a mock-scandalised voice. “I’d stop doing that thing she likes in bed.”

Eddie rolled his eyes again and Richie laughed, gently bumping Eddie’s knee with his fist in that way that Eddie pretended to hate but treasured for ages afterwards each time.

What he loved about Richie was that things could be super weird between them one moment and in the next, he would still go back to making Eddie feel like the most important person in the world to him. It should have caused whiplash, but he was so used to it at this point that it was just further evidence that neither of them was very good at staying mad at each other.

All too soon, Bill was climbing out of the car at Stan’s place and Eddie felt his mood, which hadn’t been the greatest all evening, plummet to new depths. As they watched to make sure that Bill made it safely into the house (a habit that, post-Pennywise, they’d all adopted) he began trailing his thumb along the cut on his left hand like he always did when he was nervous.

“Hey are you okay?” asked Richie who was now watching him with concern,

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Richie raised an eyebrow above the frame of his glasses. “Okay, fine, I’m lying. I don’t want to go home right now. You know my mom.”

“Biblically,” Richie smirks and Eddie thumps him in the shoulder.

“Fuck off, Rich, I’m serious. She’s going to want to know why I’m home so early and I can’t tell her the truth. I wouldn’t put it past her to track Chloe down and demand to know why she stood me up and I can’t put Chloe through that. But I also just don’t have the energy to make up a bullshit story either. I’m just… can we just drive around for a while? Just until it would be a normal time for me to come home?”

“I mean sure, but it would probably be a fuck-ton easier for you to just crash at my place tonight,”

“Oh my god, please,” Eddie replied, so relieved he could cry. “That would be an actual lifesaver. Your parents won’t mind?”

“If this is the night they start giving a shit about who I invite over and when I’m going to be so fucking pissed.”

Eddie laughed. He couldn’t help it. The idea of not going home and on top of it spending the rest of the night with Richie had him lightheaded and giddy. In response, Richie gave Eddie what to him felt like a fond smile, before starting the car and racing towards his house as quickly as he could.

Upon arriving at Richie’s house, his parents gave them both a short and friendly ‘hello’, barely looking away from whatever they were watching on TV, and a moment later they were upstairs, sitting on Richie’s bed. For the first time that night, Eddie felt himself relax completely.

“I can’t believe your parents just said ‘hi’ and left it at that,” said Eddie. “If that was my mom, I’d be there for another hour.”

“It’s just because you’re here,” Richie replied. “Trust me – if I came home alone they would have pounced.”

Eddie got the sense that Richie was just saying that to make him feel better, but he didn’t mind. They were alone for the first time in weeks and he felt like he could breathe again. He was always his most real around Richie.

“So that was senior prom,” said Richie, leaning back on his elbows. Eddie followed suit.

“That was senior prom. Did it live up to the hype?”

“Not even a little.” Richie shakes his head. “I spent ten minutes getting ready for tonight, you know that? Ten fucking minutes. That’s seven more minutes than usual. Think of all the shit I could have accomplished in that time.”

“It was worth it,” Eddie replied, hoping his blush wasn’t too obvious. He was still not completely over the sight of Richie in a suit. Richie shrugged.

“I guess.”

A silence fell between them then, full of things Eddie wanted to say but had no idea how to start. He wanted to tell Richie how much this meant to him, how sorry he was that he had accidentally brought back memories of Pennywise, how much he wanted to kiss him right now, how lonely he’d been these past few days without them talking, how sad he was that he liked Chloe, how much he wanted to kiss him right now…

“Sorry, I… I mean, sorry about not going stag with you and Bill. I know you were looking forward to it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Richie replied. “Chloe’s great. I totally get it.”

God, he was already regretting bringing Chloe up. But this was good, he told himself. If Richie did like Chloe, he was sure it would help him get over his stupid crush on him.

“Look, Rich, I’m sorry. If I had known how you felt, I never would have asked her.”

Richie scrambled to sit upright and stared at Eddie as if he had just worked out his deepest, darkest secret. Eddie slowly sat upright too, feeling the anxiety build in the pit of his stomach. He’d started this, wanting to know for sure whether or not his assumptions were right, but now that he was about to find out, he didn’t want to.

“If you had known how I felt?” asked Richie, looking embarrassed and terrified.

“Yeah, about Chloe,” said Eddie. “I know how you feel about her. It wasn’t hard to figure out with how much you were watching her while we danced.”

Richie’s shoulders relaxed at this and Eddie wondered how long he’d had these feelings if being able to confess them was this much of a relief. Eddie watched as he sat there for a moment or two, staring through the Nirvana poster on the opposite wall before scrubbing a hand down his face, shaking his head (his curls bouncing in that way that Eddie always found adorable) and making his way over to the CD player on his desk. A few seconds later the intro to a cheesy rock ballad that Eddie vaguely recognised from how often it had played on the radio a few years back started and Richie was walking towards him with his hand open.

“Dance with me?” he asked. “Your date kind of got stolen and I feel bad that you only got that one. And, I mean, we might as well while we’re still here in our suits looking pretty.”

Part of Eddie’s brain screamed at him not to. It was a bad idea, Richie would know exactly how he felt about him and then where would they be? He’d made it clear over and over again how much of an issue he had with anything gay. But there was another, far more insistent part of his brain reminding him that Richie had been the one to ask him to dance and that if he didn’t dance with Richie Tozier now, there was no guarantee that he would ever get the chance again.

Trying very hard not to think about the state that their friendship would be in after this, he took Richie’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled into his arms. He realised a second too late that it would have been far safer and less obvious to put his hands gently on Richie’s waist than to wind his arms around his neck as he did, but the damage was done and Richie, thankfully, didn’t seem to mind.

Dancing with Richie was so different from dancing with Chloe. For one, since Chloe was shorter than Eddie, he’d been the one with the arms wrapped around her waist and she’d had her arms around his neck. They’d been dancing just as close, but it had been nothing more than swaying to the music. This was different. This was Eddie reeling from the scent of the aftershave Richie had put on for the occasion, the jolt every time their feet brushed, staring up into Richie’s brown eyes, magnified by his glasses, and trying to fight off the overwhelming sadness at how in just a few minutes this was all just going to be a memory.

They swayed together through most of the first verse before Richie spoke.

“So I suppose this is where I tell you that I don’t have feelings for Chloe,” he said. “Like, where the fuck did you even get that idea?”

“You were mad at me when I told you I was taking her to prom,” Eddie explained. “And then at the dance, you were watching her while we danced. I just, y’know, put the pieces together.”

“Yeah, congratulations, dipshit, you put them together wrong.” Richie rolled his eyes. “I was watching you. And yeah, I may have yelled, but I wasn’t mad. I was hurt and disappointed because going stag with you and Bill would have been as close as I could safely get to taking you as my date to prom.”

“Wait. You wanted to be my prom date?” Eddie stopped swaying, his head spinning with this new information. Richie had wanted to take him to prom and probably would have if society wasn’t such a bitch. “Fuck, Rich, I thought you had issues with the whole gay thing?”

“Deflection.” Richie didn’t look proud of it, pulling his gaze away from Eddie to stare at a patch of floor. “Fuck, Eds, I’ve been in love with you since we were twelve. And there’ve been so many times where I’ve wanted to tell you, but I’ve just been scared shitless to. I had no idea how you would react, if you would flip out and stop talking to me and I just couldn’t lose you. I still can’t.”

He swallowed and took a deep breath.

“You looked so upset when you thought I might have a crush on Chloe and it just… I guess it felt like for the first time you might feel the same way.” He looked up at him then and there was a jolt in Eddie’s stomach as he fully realised what was happening. Richie pulled him closer ever so slightly, and Eddie didn’t resist it. His body had turned to jello.

“Am I wrong?”

He couldn’t speak, his heart was pounding in his throat, but he somehow managed to control the muscles in his head enough to shake it.

And then before he could say anything else, Richie’s lips were on his, soft and still vaguely fruity from the punch, though he desperately tried to push that horrifying thought from his mind. Instead, Eddie focused on the little surprised hum Richie made when he parted his lips and how Richie’s arms were tightening around him, pulling them so close together that there was no space between them. With daring he didn’t know he had, he slowly slid his hands up to tangle in Richie’s curls and was met with another hum (or perhaps moan) of approval. He’d never felt anything like it. He never thought he could feel anything like it. Yesterday he would have thought this moment completely impossible, but here he was in Richie Tozier’s messy bedroom being kissed by him.

They eventually pulled apart and as Eddie rested his forehead on Richie’s shoulder, he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Fuck, was it that bad?”

“No, you dick, I’m laughing because I’ve been in love with you since I was twelve too. We’ve missed out on six years of this shit.”

“Jesus, Kaspbrak, are you fucking kidding me?” Richie pressed a kiss to the top of his head, and Eddie felt it spread through his whole body. “Why are we like this?”

“I wish I knew,” Eddie replied.

They danced the rest of the song, now so close that it was impossible to do much more than shuffle their feet, but Eddie wasn’t complaining. This was easily the best moment of his entire life.

As the song started drawing to a close, Eddie laughed again.

“Jesus, what now?” asked Richie, but there was no venom to it.

“Of all the songs in the world you could have chosen to be our first dance, you chose a Bryan Adams song.”

“Alright, al-fucking-right,” Richie replied. “Next time how about you plan out the sweeping romantic gesture and I’ll be the shithead giggling at everything?”

Eddie just laughed and kissed him again.

Later that night, after calling his mom to tell her that he would be sleeping over at Richie’s and assuring her that, no, it wasn’t because he’d been drinking, or that Richie had been drinking, that he just wanted to hang out with him, the two of them climbed into Richie’s tiny single bed. Richie was yawning already and Eddie had no idea how he could be tired at a time like this, not when a whole new world of possibilities had just opened to them.

“You want to know why I chose that song?” Richie asked, taking the hand that Eddie had not-so-subtly left on the pillow between them hoping he would do that.

“Yeah, please enlighten me.”

“I mean, it doesn’t make me sound like any less of a fucking dork, but it’s from that Robin Hood movie, Prince of Thieves. You remember? It was the first movie we saw together without the rest of the Loser’s Club and, I don’t know, now the song always reminds me of you.”

Eddie leaned over to kiss Richie again, wondering how any of this could possibly be real.

“Thank you, Rich,” he said. “For everything.”

“You’re welcome,” said Richie through a yawn, pulling Eddie closer to him and falling asleep within what felt like seconds. It took Eddie far longer, and when he eventually gave in and closed his eyes, the Robin Hood in his dream had curly dark hair and a rather anachronistic pair of glasses.

[fierytragcdy]

eddie & richie.

richie knows eddie far too well for that excuse to work. if the machine really was broken, he’d be hailing every healthcare professional into that room – a charming trait that his mother had most certainly stamped upon him. one richie might have come to find a certain fondness for, even in his desperation for eddie to live and let live, to stop worrying so much about everything. “oh really? a broken machine, ‘ay? now i’m really worried. the eddie i know would be pressing that button over and over again to call a nurse in for a broken machine, maybe you’ve bumped your head?” the words are stuffed into this feigned naivety, and the more richie talks to eddie about it, the more certain he comes that maybe, just maybe, eddie kaspbrak; the boy he’d pined for from childhood did, in fact, feel the same way about him. the boy who’d told him off or told him to fuck off whenever he’d tried to make him and the other’s laugh, the boy who he’d always been too eager too impress, might have loved him back. fingers brush against his temple, leaning in as if to inspect it. “hm…looks okay to me, but then again i’ve always thought that you did need your head tested…and what a better time?” his head cants a little, a smirk filled with laughter filling up his expression as the other threatens him with the paps, "…you might make a killing, and i’d very much respect you for taking up the offer. comedian bully seems a lot less common. from my experience around others, they were definitely the ones getting bullied.” it’s said in jest, but he wasn’t immune from bullying. one of the reasons why richie had hidden his feelings for so long – one of many. now though, he’d forgotten all about that. now that eddie was looking at him the way he was, making him feel as though he mattered. for more than just how entertaining he could be. 

maybe it got exhausting after a while, even if he enjoyed every minute of it. sometimes richie just needed to breathe. to be. once eddie’s given the go-ahead, he rests his other leg over eddie’s own. it happens naturally. it certainly can’t be helped. not once eddie’s is hooked on his own. once all of his body is on the bed, he turns to face eddie too; careful with it, not wanting to knock into him all too much. when he rests his nose against his shoulder, his own heart picks up pace. richie thanks his lucky stars that he isn’t connected to a heart rate monitor, because he’d have been exposed now too. “there. we’ve always been able to make the best of a tight space.” he reminds him, though he’s not sure why he does. because now he’s thinking about it. about the time he’d been on the hammock and eddie had forced his way upon it too; all petty squabbles and feet in his face. richie had acted so irritated then, but he’d never felt safer snuggled up with eddie. never felt warmer, softer, fonder. eddie bought it all out of him. he remembers the countless other times they shared tents and beds and dens, always inevitably ending up cornered together, always inevitably acting irritated by it, always bringing it upon themselves. richie’s bought out of his daydream by the sound of the apology, “you better be…” is what he starts with, trailing off before he wiggles to make himself all the more comfortable. “…you don’t have any reason to say sorry, eds.” 

the kiss to his shoulder surprises richie; in a way he can’t disguise or make a joke of. he doesn’t want to, because maybe if it does it won’t happen again and he so desperately wanted it to. for it to be more than a fleeting moment, or an action bought on by some fog that eddie was potentially still in, due to the fact he’d only just woken up after a very traumatic incident. tender still; his fingers stroke across his healing cheek, a blush tinging his own skin as the question leaves eddie’s lips. there’s no disguising how he feels at this point, even if it remains unspoken. “it might be.” richie admits quietly, croakily due to his stunned surprise over eddie’s former action clogging up all the words in his throat. “i didn’t bring the entire contents of my wardrobe with me, i had to get creative…” it’s a weak attempt at an explanation, but he can’t say he wants to try particularly hard to disguise his feelings anymore. he had come the closest to losing eddie he ever wanted to and he didn’t want him to disappear from his life again, never again. “…and it smells nice.” he carries on, which does very little to help any case against him wearing the garment because of any other reason besides the fact that it was eddie’s. and richie wanted to be as close to him as possible, even when he was lying right there in front of him. “suits me better anyway.” he carries on, but even when the words fall; they’re softer, the smile on his lips impossibly fond. “and yeah, i missed you. i missed you when i’d forgotten who you were, if that even makes any fucking sense.” he chuckles softly, though for once it’s void of much humour. without another word he presses a kiss to his temple, lingering there for a second more than entirely necessary. 

how he had thought richie would let that pass was beyond him. he knew richie like the back of his hand and it was inevitable that he would call him out on his excuse. “maybe it isn’t a broken machine,” he mutters, colour flooding to his face. richie tozier was an asshole of epic proportions for doing this to him. and yet, he was still fond as ever of the man beside him. disgusting, right? “i don’t know. maybe i did. you tell me. i blacked out, remember?” he sort of regrets mentioning it because he knows that it must be a sore spot for all of them, but especially richie. he remembers the terror he felt when he saw richie caught in the deadlights. the relief he felt as he leaned over him and saw that he was okay. then, nothing. well, not nothing. he was still conscious for a while, but it was hazy and he thinks that is probably a good thing. he can only imagine what his friends looked like in that moment, what they looked like as they fretted over him and how to defeat it. his skin tingles as richie touches it and eddie looks up at him, eyes wide and far too innocent looking for the things he’s seen and done (most of which all before the age of fourteen). “like i told you when we were kids, my mother had me tested. for everything. if it was a disease, she had me tested for it.” it was easier to mention it now, laugh it off. as a kid, he had told richie during a sleepover when the others were passed out. they were alone and eddie confided in him because it was richie. it was sweet, stupid, funny richie and eddie never felt safer than when he had richie by his side. “could you imagine if i did? it wouldn’t even be worth it. not to ruin your rep. besides, how can i go on record and call you a bully when you used to throw yourself in the line of fire for me?” he hadn’t remembered that before they went into the house, had he? had it just come back now? who knew? but eddie remembered and his heart swelled at the memories.

being tangled up on the bed with richie was a dream come true. and truthfully, it was one that had come true a number of times when they were a kid. in the hammock (more than once), in tents, on floors, in beds (never eddie’s because what would his mother have thought if she walked in on that?). “yeah, we have. and i don’t know how, cause you were always taller than me. too long legs and your arms, too. but we always made it work, huh?” his eyes light up at the memories. they had come flooding back when they were in the clubhouse after ben had fallen in. eddie had been glad to not have been hooked up to anything then, the memory alone almost killed him. “remember the hammock? god, you were so rude about that, all the time. you’d never get out when it was my turn. i had to climb in with you.” he never once had to, but it was more comfortable and it felt safer to be in it with richie. there was something about close to him and pressed against him that eddie had never had replicated. it was just something that richie did to him, it seemed. eddie used to scowl at the others when they pushed the two of them together, but he knew now that they knew more than they let on. they knew more than eddie and richie did themselves. they did it for their own good, but life had a funny way of working out and they never got the chance to find out if they felt the same way about each other. “maybe. but... i am. i can’t even begin to imagine how scary that was. to... to not know if i was gonna live. i had a brief moment of that when you were caught in the deadlights, but you were okay. i...” he trails off and then looks up, a little more confident in himself. “i saved you. and then you saved me, rich.”

eddie could see that the kiss had thrown richie off and that was probably a good thing. he was off his game and eddie could probably beat him at his own game. god, he did look good when he was flustered, though. perhaps that meant more than eddie was willing to explore right now. “oh, that’s right. you only brought a bag that had, what? a pair of underwear and a spare shirt?” he teases, eyes fond as he watches richie. he knows there was no real reason for richie to take one of his hoodies. he would definitely be better suited to have one of mike’s or ben’s. there was another reason why he took eddie’s and he was almost determined to find out why. and, oh, he wasn’t expecting that. “’cause it smells like me?” he asks carefully, unsure if he wants to know the answer. there’s always the chance that richie will make light of it and ruin the mood. again. “well, it’s not like i could wear it again now, asshole. you stretched it out with your broad as fuck shoulders.” oh, so maybe eddie would be the one to ruin the mood. figures. he goes to respond to what richie says but then, well, richie decides to press his fucking lips against his temple. what a dick move. he knows exactly how richie felt earlier now and his heart is racing. the monitor is going crazy and honestly? eddie feels like he’s died and gone to heaven with the way it feels to have richie’s lips against his skin. 

he’s pulled from the daze by a nurse in the doorway, arms over her shoulders. “mr. kaspbrak. i wish, for my own sanity, i could take the monitor off you. i can see your room from the nurses station, so i haven’t come in until now.” she gives them a knowing look and eddie’s cheeks flood with colour. if the ground could open up and swallow him whole, that would be preferable. “mr. tozier. if you could be careful up there. he’s due for a change in dressing in an hour, at which time you will need to get off the bed so that we can make sure he’s comfortable.” she looks like she wants to say something more, but she doesn’t. and eddie is very, very thankful for that. “i’m sorry. he’s an idiot and i can’t stop him from doing anything.” she rolls her eyes and smiles, before turning to walk away. eddie smacks the back of his hand against richie’s chest. “that was so embarrassing, rich!” eddie is kind of living off the feeling, though. and he sort of wants to kiss richie now, because the nurse all but confirmed it was richie making his heart go crazy. but she can see them, like she had said. he has to settle for leaning up and simultaneously pulling richie down so that he can press a longing kiss to his cheek.