#I am going to miss this cast immensely

[centaurianthropology]

NY by Night S1E8 ‘Virtue Overthrow’ Recap and Thoughts

And here we are, at the end of a season.  We pause our story with these four vampires for now, and the Camarilla vampires are left with huge shoes to fill, because this cast has been stellar.  This story has been excellent, and it has danced on the edge of disaster for an entire season.  Until tonight, when it all came to a head in an emotional blowout that will have ramifications for this coterie whenever we get to see them again.  Read on after the cut to see my thoughts on this, the season finale of the first season of ‘NY by Night’.

We start with North Brother Island, uninhabited, chosen formerly as a quarantine hospital for severe illnesses.  The Coterie approaches the island at Isaac’s invitation, but something is different about our favorite Tzimisce.  He looks just a little different, specifically he looks like an idealized version of himself.  Fuego uses Unswayable Mind, thinking he’s cast some sort of illusion, as she’s finding him distractingly hot suddenly.  But he doesn’t change.  Whatever has happened is genuine, physical.  

This starts a conversation.  Fuego, fresh off her emotional turmoil of last week, is setting out to clear the air and connect with this, her closest connection to kindred society.  She asks Isaac about his appearance, which leads into her apologizing for being nasty to him the night at the Crescent.  He in turn apologizes for being short with her; he wanted to impress on her the severity of the situation, but doesn’t actually care that she murdered someone.  He more cares that they were sloppy and careless.  She sets aside his general disregard for human life, something she has carefully guarded her own ability to care about, and instead accepts his olive branch, twisted as it is.  After they’ve made up, he fills the coterie in on his mission to find the skull, including his encounter with a Camarilla vamp in Rafferty’s employ.  Fuego reveals that he’s her sire, but she knows very little about him. 

They arrive at the island.  The tone is immediately surreal.  It’s abandoned and ruined, but there are no animals, no birds, no people.  There is nothing except the hidden haven of a single kindred: Isaac’s sire, Vaclav.  Isaac urges them to let Vaclav take the lead in any conversation.  He’s only ever interacted with his sire—who is considerably older than they are—one on one and doesn’t know how they’ll handle other people.  As much as Isaac can be somewhat anxious, he is, because Vaclav is dangerous, and he’s old, an Isaac is walking a pack of volatile baby kindred into his domain.  They spot a light, and Rey makes a Paul Revere joke that only Fuego gets.  He feels old, and we find out that when Isaac said he didn’t finish school, he meant high school.  Isaac is very smart and very articulate, but clearly has huge holes in his education.

They enter the haven, and get their first glimpse of Isaac’s sire.  The haven looks like the 19th century so perfectly that it could be from a movie, and Vaclav himself (he is presenting male at present) awaits them in equally antiquated clothing.  He greets them with courtesy (and a quote from Dracula, which is hilarious and none of them get it, which disappoints him a little, making him immediately more interesting and loveable than I expected him to be).  They all sit down and get refreshments (some suspiciously fresh blood, one imagines from some unfortunate fleshcrafted couch).  Vaclav is courteous and charming, and the coterie, amazingly, manages to be on their best behavior.  Fuego is excited and honestly charmed by Vaclav.  Rey is polite and as even-keeled as he can be.  Serif is the only one who seem to twig that there is a sense of creepiness about this whole thing, that there is something off about this old man, but even she seems to find him charming in spite of herself.  

Isaac reveals that he wanted them to meet Vaclav because they all have poor relations with their own sires, that they have limited information, and no one older except him to help them.  He wanted them to meet his own sire, to see that relations can be good with that sire, even if it’s uncommon, and he wanted them all to see an older vampire who wasn’t openly trying to push them around or use them so they could gain some perspective.

Vaclav is clearly enjoying playing host.  He gets information from these young kindred, yes, but he also just gets visitors, and gets to impart wisdom to the new friends of the childe he is clearly quite proud of.  Isaac and Vaclav have a polite but definitely warm relationship, and Vaclav extends that warmth to Isaac’s coterie-mates.  He invites them to ask him questions.  He has been in torpor for some time, and while he’s been awake for about a decade, he hasn’t entirely adjusted to the new world.  Still, he will answer what questions he can, and he proves to be a wealth of knowledge.    

They discuss the Camarilla, its pros and its cons, and how the Camarilla did not always control New York.  This segues into a discussion about the Sabbat.  Vaclav seems to have been in torpor at the time of the battle, and seems distant from both parties involved.  Alone on his island, Vaclav seems to be avoiding politics, with no close ties to any faction, and so he can judge all of them.  Fuego uses the opportunity to ask why, if the Camarilla need numbers to keep out the Sabbat, they still exclude certain clans. It seems counter-productive.  While there are many possible reasons, the largest is old prejudice.  While Fuego would be welcome, Serif and Isaac would not. 

Serif has her own continued focus, and a seemingly friendly source of information, so she asks how to un-ghoul someone.  She is open with Vaclav about why she wants to know.  She tells him about her mother’s situation, an in turn he offers her honest options: she can kill her mother, turn her into a vampire, or cut her off from blood.  That last option sounds good, but that has one major drawback: the twenty-five years Serif’s mother has been a ghoul will rapidly catch up with her, possibly damaging her permanently.  Serif realizes she has no good options for saving her mother.  Even making her into a vampire is not an easy answer.  Few sires and children get along well, and having it be her own mother that she turns has added complications.

This leads to a new discussion of sires and children.  Fuego admires what Vaclav and Isaac have, but feel that what she has with Rafferty is entirely different.  She barely knows him, but still finds herself loving him to an extent that she feels like something has to be wrong.  It’s too much, not warmth but more.  Vaclav speculates it could be a blood bond, but when Fuego says she only drank from Rafferty once, Vaclav chalks it up to an unusually intense reaction to the embrace, that will likely fade with time and separation.  She intellectually wants this, but emotionally …

Rey also has a question about sires, but his question is more about why certain vampires choose those they embrace.  He wants to know if his sire chose him specifically, or if his embrace could be random chance (that he wasn’t meant to be Gangrel).  Vaclav says there are many reasons to embrace someone, and that any number of reasons could account for Rey’s embrace, or any embrace Rey chooses to give to someone else.  Rey is disappointed, but Vaclav encourages him to realize that the Gangrel have what he calls a ‘desperate power’, that they are often underestimated.  Rey’s weaknesses could be strengths, if he only embraced and harnessed them.  Rey doesn’t react to that, but it may have been the first time someone told him that in such an open way, an it’s definitely the first time someone has implied that he should embrace his power and Rey didn’t immediately snap at them.  It seems like Vaclav even has his respect. 

Serif wonders about the power of the Tzimisce.  If Rey has power, and Fuego has power, and she has power, what exactly do the Tzimisce do?

The anwer, after Isaac beats around the bush a bit, is of course flesh-crafting.  Isaac can now change himself, as he revealed before, and Vaclav adds that more powerful Tzimisce can change others as well.  Fuego covers her shock quickly, asking for wings when Isaac figures that one out, but there is a clear moment of fear.  This is a power none of the others have.  A potentially horrible power, and even vampires as young as they are recognize that. 

The conversation quickly shifts to wights.  Vaclav confirms Isaac’s suspicions about what wights are, and after its revealed that it’s a sabbat project gone wrong, Vaclav gives them more information about why so many Sabbat become wights.  The Sabbat reject their humanity and walk different paths to maintain balance with the beast, but that makes them more vulnerable to losing control and losing themselves.  Those who can’t walk their chosen path become wights. 

Vaclav knows a lot about the Sabbat, not just their external structure, but about the Paths, and about their structure.  He doesn’t say it, barely even implies it, but I have to think he was Sabbat at one point.  However, it also seems that he broke with them long ago enough that the Anarchs don’t mind him, and he is treated as a free agent.

Their conversation draws to a close, and Vaclav offers them all one more question.  Rey asks why the Camarilla want to get rid of unclaimed childer.  Vaclav offers several possibilities, but concludes that the Camarilla are simply short-sighted and prejudiced, and have a lot of old ideas that don’t work as well as they should.  Rey is disappointed, but sometimes these simple answers are the correct ones. 

Serif asks if he met any previous Ravnos.  Vaclav discusses one who was well-traveled, well-read, capricious, intelligent, but dislikable.  Serif asks if it’s Argus, and Vaclav not only confirms that it was, but that her revealing that Argus is alive, has her mother as a ghoul, and sired Serif is important information to him.  So much so that this old vampire offers Serif a boon, which is no small thing in kindred society.  We don’t know why this information is so important, but something tells me that we will eventually find out.

Fuego and Isaac forego a final question.  As thanks for the hospitality, Fuego offers Vaclav a nearly-dead Kindle filled with books.  While Vaclav doesn’t touch the new tech, he of course accepts the gift.  And with that, this meeting—which went shockingly well for this group—ends.  Questions are now answered, there is something going on between Vaclav and Argus that means Serif earned a boon from an elder vampire, and Vaclav actually likes the whole coterie, which is great for all of them, even if their newest, best ally is an elder Tzimisce on a creepy island.

They return to the Bronx to find that Isaac’s vehicle has been run-by tagged. Serif investigates the tagging and finds that it’s a commonly used warning amongst local street-gangs: ‘GET OUT.’ Isaac brushes it off, thinking that it has something to do with his association with the Midnighters.  Serif is less convinced, but they drop it for the moment in favor of a wight-hunt.  They need to take care of that, and fast.

Isaac asks Angela for a knife, and Rey jumps in to tell him not to start cutting bits off himself just because he found that he can alter his body.  Isaac is surprised; he meant the knife for Serif so she can defend herself. Everyone is thrilled that Rey is getting protective of Isaac—a new development and further evidence of their bond—and Rey is just embarrassed. 

Isaac still has Annabelle’s stake as well.  He wants to keep it, of course, but it is prudent to have in a fight with a kindred. Isaac also has his own new abilities, which everyone is slightly horrified by as he mentions altering his bones (there’s also a great dirty pun about bones from Fuego, who is clearly still dealing with the fact that she now finds Isaac hot, and doesn’t quite know what to do with that. It was one of my favorite lines of the night, and delivered with some great comedic timing).

They drive off, trying to locate the wight with Serif’s abilities to sense the beast.  It takes them hours, but they do manage it.  Serif manages to rescue its intended victim, then takes off after it, leaving the others to catch up.  Isaac uses a brief moment to extrude the bone from his forearm to create a blade across his fingers.  The scene is like something out of a horror movie, and both Rey and Fuego are disgusted and fascinated. 

In the meantime, Serif reaches the wight alone.  It easily throws her down, but she comes back at it with the knife.  She fails to get the jump on it, and it tears into her, trying to eat her just as Isaac arrive on the scene.  He gets the first good hit on it, scissoring his bone knives into either side of its neck.  Then Fuego and Rey arrive, with Fuego trying to spray her blood around enough to gets its attention, and Rey trying to grapple it to force it to look at her.  He fails, but decides to at least prevent it from running.  He tackles it to the ground, but with a messy critical the wight grows serpentine fangs and bites into his face.  Rey has to make a frenzy check, but manages to keep it together by the barest margin. 

Fuego runs in, trying to beat at it with her flashlight.  She doesn’t put a dent in it, but Isaac grabs the stake he stole from Annabelle, and tries to drive it home while the wight is distracted.  He get close, but doesn’t manage to hit it in the heart.  It isn’t until Serif helps that they manage to paralyze it. 

Isaac warns them that it’s not dead, and they have to take care of it.  He gets ready to behead it, but Rey insists that they don’t kill it.  Everyone is shocked, asking him why.  He tries to dance around his reasons, but that just makes everyone more suspicious.  Fuego manages to mesmerize him and compel him to give his real reasons.

And the coterie learns that he needs it to prove to the Camarilla that he’s worth their time.  To say that the others are disgusted is an understatement.  The others immediately tell Isaac to proceed with whatever he was going to do, and he beheads it with his bone knives while Rey frantically tries to grab bits of it.  Serif snaps a photo of it before Isaac puts it down, and even texts it to Rey with the message ‘hope it was worth it’, but he’s too distraught to even notice.  

There are people coming and they have to go.  They all pile into the minivan with tension in the air.  Michael makes a fast getaway, and they tend to themselves in tense silence.  Isaac has to essentially treat aggravated damage to put his weapons away, showing that there is a big cost to his newfound abilities.  Rey decides not to heal, given his poor rolls.  Serif heals her own wounds, but the failure of one hunger roll puts her at four hunger, inches away from frenzy.

 It’s in this atmosphere that the confrontation about Rey’s Camarilla connections comes to a head.  Rey insists that he needed the wight in order not to give up the coterie to the Camarilla, which raises all their hackles.  Angela wants to shoot Rey.  Fuego threatens Angela, and Isaac threatens Fuego right back, forever protective of his people.  Threats escalate amongst all of them.  Secrets have been kept on all sides, yes.  Fuego didn’t tell them about Rafferty.  Serif changed her accent to hide her origins.  Isaac doesn’t want anyone on the third floor of his home, apparently less because it contains some terrible secret and more that he wanted one place that was solely his, where he could do his art in peace.  

Despite these secrets, Rey’s threats to turn them into the Cam are something more.  This isn’t just something personal.  This is something that could get Fuego blood-bonded worse than she already is, and get Serif and Isaac summarily executed.  Rey insists that this is why he needed the wight.  If he could provide more than the Camarilla asked for, he figured they wouldn’t ask him to turn on his coterie.  

Isaac snaps that the Camarilla doesn’t work like that.  They will demand everything from Rey forever, and they will still never accept him.  He will always be less than them.  Rey tries to counter with the Camarilla accepting Lasombra, but Isaac replies that the Camarilla will accept the Lasombra, but they will never accept an animal.

It’s brutal, but it starts to open people up to some real honesty.  Serif checks Rey’s personal pity with her own reasons why she needs the coterie.  All her life someone has just wanted something from her, never just liked her for her, but always only accepted her as a possession or something to extract value from.  This group is the first to offer her something like friendship without obvious strings.  She needs this.  She needs to be free, and the Camarilla are the end of that freedom for her. 

Fuego remains quiet.  In her family, people yell and fight, and that’s okay, because they get somewhere in the end.  She says that Rey will trust them, or he won’t, and her saying anything wouldn’t change it. 

Then Angela speaks up. This is a tactical problem.  Rey wants to be able to go into Manhattan without a stake in his back, not necessarily join the Camarilla.  He cannot do this on his own, but might be able to if he works with the coterie rather than lying to them.  They have to rely on one another, and maybe even like one another for a while.  It’s the only way they’ll survive.  

Rey has a choice, but he refuses to make it yet.  Not tonight. 

So we are left in limbo, with three of the coterie more or less pledging to one another out of necessity and the beginnings of something like affection.  Rey is on the outside.  He wants different things, and even the suggestion that they could help him not get staked is anathema to him, as he insists on doing everything on his own.  Could he accept this group?  Would he turn on them?  Will he try to go alone?  I suppose we will find out what he decides, and what becomes of our band of Anarchs in season 3.

 Thoughts

What a finale.  Again, light on large-scale plot, but this was heavy on paying off the interpersonal and emotional threads of the season, while giving us a conclusion to the wight that was satisfying and a difficult combat encounter.

We also finally have the coterie with at least most of their cards on the table.  They know what Rey has done, and what he wants.  They know more about Serif’s life, and what she needs, and why they are the closest she’s ever had to people who like her for her.  We know Fuego loves her community, has a complicated relationship with her sire possibly involving a blood bond or something similar, but has little interest in truly joining him.  And we know Isaac is actually the closest to the Anarchs in terms of philosophy as well as circumstance of all of them.  Yes, the Camarilla would kill him, but he also wants his freedom.  He wants his space and his things and his territory and his third floor which apparently just as his art in it (so far).  And they would all accomplish these things better together, if Rey can accept that and embrace it. 

So we leave this wonderful, messy foursome driving together, taking the long way home.  We end not with a tight conclusion, or a definitive end, but instead we end on an ellipsis.

With that, I’d like to discuss where the characters are emotionally, and why, to my mind, they need one another.  Serif is the most open about it.  Despite her misgivings, she cares about them all.  Francis still looms in her background, a Sabbat-shaped danger that none of them—even her—know about.  But he’s a less tempting thing now, because she may dislike some of the choices her coterie has made, but they’re hers.  Isaac is protective of her without asking anything in return.  Fuego laughs with her.  Even Rey has tried to be there for her.  These people have acted more like her family than the fucked-up reality of her blood family ever did.

Fuego’s great catharsis was last week.  The hardest-hit she was tonight was when Isaac claimed they would all lose their humanity eventually, if they lived long enough.  That’s the one thought she can’t stand.  And so, even if she didn’t express it as loudly as Serif did, this coterie is a totem for her, a proof of her own humanity.  As long as she needs them and likes them and doesn’t stop caring about them because she’s lost too much of herself to care, she’s still Fuego. She’s not Margot or Rafferty’s childe. She’s Fuego, with her humanity hard-won and her friends at her side protecting her.  And she does care about them.  She tries to defend Rey when Serif and Isaac go after him for his betrayal. She likes Serif a great deal, even if she can’t quite understand her.  She finds Isaac intriguing and powerful (and now, apparently, hot).  She can’t have her old family like she used to, even though she clings to them.  She needs community, and this is what she gets.  Four fuck-up Anarchs on their own in the Bronx.  And she’s holding onto that, and by extension her humanity, with all she’s got.

Isaac needs them too. We still don’t know the extent of his problems.  He has remained the biggest black box of the group this season.  But he needs them because he’s weak on his own, and his clan is reviled, and the Camarilla would execute him in a heartbeat.  And he does care, in his own weird Isaac way.  He cares about Serif, who is in a similar boat to him. He cares about Fuego’s desperate bid for her own humanity, even if he doesn’t quite understand it.  And he cares about Rey, because he wouldn’t be so angry if he didn’t.  He wouldn’t feel as betrayed as he does if he didn’t already sort of trust and sort of like this man.  Isaac is walls within walls and masks within masks.  He is the anomaly, the one of them with a good sire, and two friends (who he ghouled), but no real connections to kindred society.  Whoever he was before, high-school dropout and gangster, he is reinventing himself, and he both needs these people to keep him alive, and to keep him grounded.

Rey has brought the Camarilla to their doorstep, yes, but the Cam already knew about them; Angela was right about that.  Julia didn’t dangle the pronunciation of Tzimisce in front of Rey because she didn’t know how to say it.  It was a test.  She wanted to see if Rey would give her Isaac; she wanted to play the good cop and see how far he was really willing to go for the Cam.  And at this point, that’s still a dangling question, and one I don’t think even Rey knows the answer to.  He’s trying to play all ends to the middle, and he got his coterie caught in the middle with him.  Isaac was cruel, but he was probably right that the Camarilla would never accept Rey. They would use him up and throw him out.  If he wants respect, the only people likely to give it to him are these four, at least until he’s powerful enough that the Anarchs will respect him too.  

What this episode drove home is how much they all do need one another, and how unwillingly they’ve come to care about each other.  There isn’t actually much of a power differential between them.  They are all young, all vulnerable, all overwhelmed and scared and becoming something new.  And at least three of them are now committed to doing it together.

I will miss these four characters and their actors fiercely.  I am doing my best to be open to the second-season coterie, because I’m sure they’ll be great too, but I have liked this foursome more than almost any I’ve seen in live play TTRPGs in a long time.  They have such good chemistry, such great conflict, and such intense moments of real honest interaction and catharsis.

I want to congratulate all the players and Jason Carl on a great first season.  Aabria Iyengar brought such verve and such fun and such passion to Fuego that her emotional scene last episode was a phenomenal moment of real character growth for her, setting her up to be the voice of reason, humanity, and understanding in this final episode.  Joey Rassool has been phenomenally dedicated to being the wildcard, to playing Rey to the hilt even when—and perhaps especially when—it’s the wrong call, making him a breathless thrill to watch.  Mayanna Berrin plays Serif with such heart and fierceness and need to be free and valued and all the things everyone else craves but is too afraid to admit. And Alex Ward brings a creepy stillness coupled with an incredible intensity to Isaac that makes him electrifying to watch in every scene he’s in. 

I adore these characters and their story and this weird little coterie in their shitty part of the Bronx.  I will miss them tremendously, and can’t wait to see them again.  Thank you all!

#NY by Night #recap and thoughts #Fuego Walker #Isaac Brooke #Serif #Reyes Malcolm #what a great end to a great season #I am going to miss this cast immensely #and I can't wait for them to return in season 3

[angelsbless]

Hiiiii, I really really love your mashle headcannons!!! They are so cute and on point, and also love the way you write the characters!!! I saw a post from another fandom about how (x) character would react after hearing the reader talk about them (romantically) with a friend and I thought it would be a good idea for the mashle cast (with any characters you'd like but pleeaaaaaseeee add rayne, I am a sucker for that guy) hope you have a nice day and sorry if this is way too specific, you can ignore it if you don't like it 😅😅😅

Hwhsheujw OMG i loved the idea i guess i'm making it into a series hon, and yea i'm also so much into rayne, he's my beloved so here you go i hope you like it and thank you sm mwah 🤍

How would mashle characters react if they heard you talking about them romantically

RAYNE AMES

So rayne was on his way to meet you after he finished his mission, he missed you so much and couldn't wait to see your beautiful smile that brings him warmth inside. Before he can knock the door to your dorm room he overhead you talking to someone which he found out later that it was finn. He just stood by the door not wanting to interrupt your convo as you seemed really into it, he had actually no intention of overhearing until he heard his name.

" just how can rayne be that beautiful, i just can't handle it, every time he's there i feel at home and i feel blessed because someone like him exists in my life, but he's pushing himself so hard, i wish i could make it easier for him, i just love him so much and it hurts seeing him suffering,"

Rayne's heart skips a beat, he felt warmth in his chest and his expression softened, he always knew you care about him but he never knew about that. His ears turned slightly red as he continued to hear your convo.

" i know, i didn't realize you love him that much"

" i thought you knew Finn, i can't help myself but be into him so bad, the way he looks at me, the way he smiles beautifully when he's near me, how he's worried about my safety and always puts me first, the way he effortlessly looks mesmerizing, his beautiful golden eyes following me whenever i go, the way he treats me gently as if i'm made of glass and only shows me warmth. I just can't help but want to hold him close and give him all the love in the world, i just love him so much that it hurts my heart"

"i..."

After hearing you saying this, he became a blushing mess, his heart beat fast, faster than any other moment before, he was so touched by your words, he wanted to go in and just hug you tightly and never let you go, telling you that he feels the same. Only god knows how much your words affected this man, you already had him head over heels for you but this, made him realize that he's loved in such a pure and beautiful way.

" shit she's so cute, i swear she's gonna be the end of me one day.." he said while he was covering his immense blush all over his face.

He would probably just go in the room right after this and kiss you so bad but who knows hehe

I love my rayne 🤍🫶🏻

#anime #headcanon #magic and muscles #manga #mashle #mashle magic and muscles #mashle manga spoilers #dot barrett #finn ames #writers on tumblr #mashle rayne #rayne ames #rayne x reader #rayne ames x reader #mashle orter #orter x reader #kaldo gehenna #kaldo x reader #mashle kaldo #mashle season 2 #mashle anime spoilers #mashle headcanons #mashle x reader #mashle x you #mash x reader #mash burnedead #lance crown x reader #mashle lance #anime writing blog #anime and manga

[mschievousx]

now and then | b.b.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x ofc

summary: loraine silva always knew she was not normal. she loves unusual things. she loves her father's guns, horses, boxing, climbing a tree, falling from a tree, engineering, astronomy... oh, and a man eleven years older.

series masterlist

vii. seven: we would still be friends

loraine walked with aim under the silence of the night. she took a step out of the comfort of the house and into their gardens, sighting the swing. she will always be fond of it. it held a lot of memories when they were all younger and had no worries in the world but saying farewell for the day.

the young silva held it still, sitting down as she leaned her head on the rope. she needed a break from everything. fortunately, she was able to think fast and make up a story earlier at dinner when violet asked her about her early departure and her father's lack of presence in the ball.

she had a lot on her mind, but of course, she could not miss the way he occupied the other swing beside her. benedict leaned on the rope as well, facing her with a cigarette in between his fingers.

"is there something going on?" he asked with concern in his features and worry lacing his words.

she chuckled lightly at the reminder, yet people cannot know, "nothing, why?"

he took another puff of his cigarette, his silence for the mean time speaking a lot. this made the girl think that perhaps, he is so preoccupied that he needed to turn to cigarettes for dopamine stimulation.

he could have just asked her to be with him though.

"you have not asked me yet," benedict began, wary of his choice of words, "why i am avoiding you."

"ah, that." raine replied resignedly with a small smile, "i just figured perhaps you are busy."

he nodded with a hum, "i am. my mind is quite all over the place."

the young silva wanted to laugh, to yell that she was too, to tell him about all that is happening and finally have him on her side.

yet, the only thing she could think of was to inquire about himself, "is that why you are still awake?"

"partly," he took a deep breath at that, treading carefully.

raine can now feel it. he was never cautious of his words around her, but now, this was the foretelling of a series of anguish. and, she wanted for time to stop so it will not be said.

"i want to tell you that maybe," he played with his mouth. it was as if he could taste the bitterness of his own words, "it is time to stop the confessions."

she shut her eyes closed, focusing on the beating of her heart as she responded dejectedly in understanding, "ah."

"may i ask why?" raine continued, gathering her thoughts.

benedict clicked his tongue, having a hard time to explain it as evident in his features, "i am... simply not interested in marriage. i do not wish to lead you on."

she nodded without question, but she did want to tell him that he already did—for eight years. however, she could not bring herself to fault him. the man answered her with clear rejection every time. and honestly, she did not believe he will eventually choose to marry her. but hopeful, she was—immensely.

"you are one of the eyed debutantes this season, and this," he gestured between them, wanting to make his point clear, "what you are doing ruins excellent marriage prospects for you."

raine could not stop herself from laughing it could be mistaken for sarcasm, "it is for my own benefit then?"

he could not pinpoint if she was mocking him or not, so he chose to let it pass, wondering to himself if he had done the right thing.

"you know," she turned to face him from the swing, lips forming a thin smile, "i really like you a lot."

she looked at him with eyes that cannot be read. it could either mean she is feeling a lot of emotions all at once... or simply none.

benedict looked at her, still with the same intensity as he always did, "believe me, i know."

"i really like you that even though this is what you are telling me, i am still elated because you talked to me."

he casted his eyes downward, an act akin to show shame. he wanted her to yell at him, to say that he could go fuck himself because she will still do what she wants and propose to him as much.

but, she did not. she was accepting it like a true lady that benedict could not help but admire her once more.

"why me?"

she let out a sigh at his question, "i ask the same thing everyday."

after a prolonged silence, he threw his cigarette away, taking a hold of her hand, enveloping it in his own, "i only want peace for you—within you, so i ask of you to let me go."

"i do not have the ability to let you go, ben. you were not mine to begin with. you have been free all along." she took her hands from his, lightly engulfing his in hers before leaning away, "it is i who needs to ask you that, but i can see the answer is quite apparent."

"i am not throwing away our friendship."

"of course," raine replied with ease, giving him a reassuring smile, "we would still be friends."

benedict nodded warmly at her, saying a few thanks before standing up to let the girl have her time to herself. she turned to the now empty swing beside her, his smell of ash and nicotine still present—the only indications that it indeed happened. and while she has convinced herself that she knew this was going to happen at some point, the tear that graced her cheeks was the witness of betrayal.

she has read it in a book before: perhaps, you have not really lived if love has not killed you at least once. she is on her way to becoming immortal.

and so, although he has broken her heart yet again, her warm smile never left her features. you can break my heart a thousand times if you like. she wanted to touch him, hoping not for the last time.

it was only ever yours to break anyway.

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

raine woke up in the guest room of the bridgerton's house. she almost believed last night to be a dream—a nightmare, if it was. but, it was not. it was as real as it can be. a fact she has to face and move forward at the arrival of another day.

she descended the stairs and went to the drawing room where the the children's laughters can be heard.

"how did you sleep, dear?" violet greeted at the sight of the woman joining them.

"quite well, lady bridgerton. thank you."

"would you like to have breakfast? we are already done eating." she offered, raine realising that she has woken up quite late now with the sun too far out.

"it is alright. i am not feeling hungry." she smiled politely at the older woman as hyacinth took a hold of her hand eagerly.

"are you going home today, raine?"

she turned to her and replied, "yes, in a while. why?"

"play with us!" gregory joined the two.

she laughed as she ruffled the young man's hair, "of course, whatever game did you have in mind?"

"cards." hyacinth turned to her brother as the latter groaned.

"you will definitely beat me at that."

"house then." she chose again, hoping that the boy will agree so that they can finally start playing.

greg nodded, turning and running upstairs, "wait, let me get ben."

at the mention of him, raine turned to the little girl, "i think we can just play cards. let's defeat gregory again this time."

the young one was about to reply when the boy appeared in an instant, just as fast as he left, now with a scolding tone.

they both rounded up the corner as greg dragged him in, "you can go to your women later."

"i am not going to my—" the words died down in his throat when he saw her. the last night seems to haunt them both.

seeing her arm linked to hyacinth's, he had a clue on what was going to happen and he can do nothing as the kids dragged them both by hand.

"let us go to the gardens."

hyacinth placed a long cloth for them to sit atop on the grass. gregory came bearing kitchenwares, utensils, and biscuits.

oh, it was definitely shaping like a game of house.

the young girl has gestured for them to sit first and wait as the kids took care of everything for the act. raine sat easily on the cloth, taking a biscuit or two.

the other, however, did not know where to sit. he tried to rearrange the glasses and plates, avoiding to sit beside her as he thought she would be uncomfortable.

noticing what he was doing, raine dusted off her hands together away from the food to remove the crumbs and spoke.

"oh, come on, ben. we are friends."

he was surprised she addressed him at first but immediately smiled at that, finally sitting beside her. both kids arrived and now settled across them too. the game is about to start, it seems.

"okay, so cinth and i are the parents then you both are the children." the pair who was supposed to act as the children tilted their heads at the boy.

it was not that they did not want to act as kids or that they wanted to act as the other. they simply expected to act as the parents seeing as, well, they are older.

benedict questioned directly, "wait, why? who said you get to decide the roles?"

hyacinth sided with the boy, groaning as she answered for him, "ugh, it's no fun if we act as siblings and you a couple. why did we even play pretend if you just wanted to act like in real life?"

the older brother paused, his breath caught up at the mention once again. he did not know what to say to address what his sister said. should i deny it? no, that would be too strong as if i am repulsed by her. should i just let it be? no, that would also be as if i am accepting the idea—which could not be farther from the truth given what transpired last night.

his train of thoughts stopped when the lady beside him laughed genuinely as she reached across to hyacinth and pinched her cheeks, "fine, i will be a child."

and for the first time in today, benedict breathed with calmness and relief. he could not help but look at her as she laughed with his siblings, playing off everything.

and watching her like this, he allowed a warm smile to grace his lips and reach his eyes. everything is going to be okay. perhaps, this is the joy they have been longing for.

but like most misery, it started with apparent happiness.

taglist: @aadu2173 @imgondeletedis @pumkiinpasties @rebleforkicks @perseny @everavenclaw @datingbtr

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x oc #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton

[rhiannswork]

s. reid || art isn’t supposed to look nice.

warnings: mentions of anxiety, hotch being reid’s dad, sensitive reader idk?? ummm angst and fluff

a/n: sorry guys, i’ve been awol. a lot has been going on mentally and i just needed some time to myself. i seen that i have requests in my inbox but it won’t let me view them fully. i’ll try to fix it, other than that enjoy ><

12:43 am. you gazed at the tv, engrossed in a monster high compilation, losing track of time. it wasn't until you realized that spencer hadn't called yet, breaking his tradition of always reaching out before midnight. now, it's almost a quarter to one, and you're left wondering.

you snatched your phone and dialed spencer's number, waiting as the faint sound of the ringing echoed from your cell's tiny speaker.

"hello, this is doctor spencer reid. unfortunately, i'm unable to answer your call right now. please leave your name, contact number, and the purpose of your call, and i'll return your message at my earliest convenience."

a loud beep pierced your ear before you ended the call, attempting to quell your growing worry, although your anxiety continued to escalate with each passing minute.

you made an effort not to dwell on it, yet sleep eluded you without the comfort of his soothing voice, reciting a romantic passage he had once come across in a book.

1:56 am. you dialed once more, the ringing filling your ear again, but this time spencer finally answered the call.

"what?" he replied with an irritated tone, causing your eyes to widen at his response. "um... i was just wondering how you were doing. you hadn't called," you stammered, a hint of concern in your voice.

"well, it's because i've been incredibly busy, y/n," he spoke sternly, his stress evident. you sensed his tension, a departure from his usual demeanor. "i’m sorry... i’m just used to you calling me before midnight. i’m sorry," you added before he hung up.

a feeling like your heart had been crushed by the world's largest hammer washed over you. your eyes began to well up, but you fought back tears, reminding yourself that he must have been under immense stress and didn't mean to come across so moody.

[ back @ the BAU ]

hotch observed the confrontation unfold, a sigh escaping him as he witnessed how spencer had spoken to you. "reid," he uttered with slight disappointment in his voice.

"yeah?" spencer turned around, rubbing his temples. "you need to go home... you've been awake longer than you should, and it's starting to impact your work," hotch advised.

spencer turned back to the large bulletin board, covered with crime scenes, maps, and other pieces of evidence waiting to be linked. "that wasn't a suggestion, reid," hotch's voice thick with authority. "it's an order."

"are you seri—" spencer began to protest, but hotch interrupted him. "spencer," hotch's tone was firm, cutting off any further argument. spencer could only manage a small scoff before he reluctantly complied. "go," hotch commanded, his gaze locking onto reid's for a final moment before he turned away.

he grabbed his coat and slung his crossbody bag over his shoulder, leaving without uttering any goodbyes. this particular case had pushed him to his limits.

twenty minutes later, he arrived home, the drive having given him some time to calm his emotions. during the drive, he reflected on how he had exploded on you over the phone.

he entered the bedroom quietly, noticing your body facing the door, a common sight. his gaze fell upon you cuddling his pillow, the one he usually slept on.

the pillow held his scent, offering comfort that helped you drift off to sleep. despite always missing spencer dearly, you hadn't gone to the extent of hugging his pillow before now.

the tv continued to play autoplayed cartoon shorts, casting a gentle glow that allowed him to see your face more clearly. "y/n... baby..." he whispered softly, concern lacing his voice.

spencer crouched down beside you, allowing you to wake up and meet his gaze. he extended his hand, his thumb gently stroking your face as you began to stir, emitting a soft hum as you gradually woke up to find spencer before you.

"hi, my love," he murmured, planting a tender kiss on your forehead. it took a moment for everything to register, but then the earlier phone call came rushing back to your memory.

"hi," you finally responded, your voice tinged with a hint of anger. turning over, you positioned yourself with your back to him.

"i'm sorry," spencer's voice held sincerity, "i'm just incredibly stressed about this case. i promised that mother i'd find the demon who took her family away."

"you sounded so upset with me..." your voice quivered, tears welling up once more. "oh, baby, please don't cry," spencer implored, leaning closer and planting a gentle kiss on your neck. "you know how much i love you... i'd never do anything to hurt your feelings."

spencer managed to coax you to scoot over in bed, allowing him to settle right under you. somehow, you found yourself in his embrace, his arms holding you close.

"do you want to hear the quote i've chosen?" his fingers traced soothing patterns up and down your arm. you raised yourself slightly and nodded, before resting your head back on his chest.

“she looked like art, and art wasn’t supposed to look nice; it was supposed to make you feel something…. from eleanor & park by rainbow rowell.”

"do you feel something when you look at me?" you murmured softly into his chest, your fingers tracing delicate patterns on his slim stomach.

“i feel everything when i look at you.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut

[cheryls-blossomed]

Iris West-Allen has, from the moment that she appeared on my screen for the first time in a floral jacket and with her gorgeous smile (indeed, to quote Barry Allen, “But then I see her smile... Man, that cannot be science...”), been my favorite character on television. Magnanimous, determined, brave, loyal, loving, and blatantly lacking in self-preservation, Iris’s journey from budding journalist to media empire Queen and Matriarch of the Flash family has been revelatory. 

Equally integral of course is Candice Patton, who portrayed Iris with such integrity and heart, and who stayed on this show for fans and for the Black women who were cast as leading ladies after her, despite the racism that she endured on a daily basis, because Candice knew how much this representation meant onscreen. Candice’s portrayal of Iris opened so many doors for Black women in this industry; she is a trail-blazer in every sense of the word. 

Iris West-Allen has faced immense trauma during the course of this show, overcoming Mirror-Verses, Crises, Time Sickness, the death of her first time-traveling child... she has endured and endured and endured, and she has always maintained her heart, lion-heartedness, her optimism, and her ability to see the good in people. She has been, time and again, the strength of this show, and she is, unequivocally, Barry’s heart. The evolution of Iris’s character is demonstrative of course of Candice’s dedication to this role, and how much love and courage and dignity that she brought to the role of Iris. 

Iris West-Allen is a superhero, and she always has been. And I am going to miss her so very much.

#the flash #iris west allen #iris west #westallen #candice patton

[otomefiend]

Alfons Sylvatica

Collection Event: All because of a slight fever.

Alfons is great at taking care of people. I shouldn't be surprised, since he was taking care of Elbert, in his own way, big chunk of his life. 11/10 I would have him around when I'm feeling ill *cough*and when I'm not lol*cough*. He's obviously a major troll in this lil snippet. The day he stops is the day Earth becomes flat. Kate, face yourself asap.

~~~

(Ughh... my body feels heavy...)

I was full of cold, most likely because the temperature had changed dramatically lately.

At that point, I decided to heed Victor's advice and have a proper rest --

Alfons: "Pardon my impertinence, but I'm afraid I'll be looking after you."

Kate: "Really, you Alfons...?"

I cast a sceptical glance at Alfons, who had come to visit my room.

Alfons: "When you have a cold, your body and mind are weakened, so I was hoping I could help."

Kate: "........."

Whenever he had the opportunity, Alfons tried to seduce me with sweet words and lead me into a world of his dirty pleasures.

(Maybe today he's planning to do something indecent again under the guise of nursing...)

(I'm afraid I'm slowly becoming unable to resist...)

Kate: "... I'll get over this cold soon, so you don't need to worry about me."

Alfons: "Then you don't have to hold back because my care will end soon as well... Right?"

Kate: "But..."

Alfons: "When you have a cold, you can abandon all restrictions and allow yourself to be pampered without a care about appearances."

Alfons: "Even if something goes wrong... no one can blame you."

Alfons: "That's because the disease that affects you makes you do it."

The words, thick and sweet as syrup, began to consume me.

(Not my fault, huh...? That's one way to look at it...)

Alfons: "Now that you agree with me... please excuse me."

He began to remove his black leather gloves, perhaps interpreting my lack of immediate refusal as acceptance.

Kate: "What are you...?"

My body, weakened by the cold, couldn't react fast enough and Alfons' hand touched my nape.

And all of a sudden, the chill and fatigue caused by the illness disappeared.

Kate: "... amazing! It's like I never caught it in the first place."

His ability to completely change one's perception was immense, easily taking away the pain of my condition.

Alfons: "You're not cured, so please don't push yourself too hard."

Kate: "... I'm grateful."

Alfons: "Don't mention it. Now, shall we continue the treatment?"

~~~

Afterwards, Alfons arranged my meals and wiped sweat off my brow...

Taking care of me all day long.

Alfons: "You've had your medicine, now all you need to do is sleep and get some rest."

Kate: "Y-yes..."

(I thought he was going to do something to me, but all he really did was take care of me)

(It's rather... disappointing-- )

(....gah, what am I thinking...)

Alfons: "-- say."

Kate: "Yes!? W-what!?"

Disturbed by my strange train of thoughts, I heard my voice come out as a squeak.

Alfons: "Your hand. Is everything all right?"

Prompted by his broad grin, I looked at my hand and saw...

That I unconsciously grabbed his clothes as he was about to leave.

Kate: "Ah! T-this isn't what you think it is...!"

Alfons: "No need to panic. I get it."

Alfons: "When you're unwell, you might feel lonely and miss the human touch..."

Alfons: "It's perfectly reasonable to hold onto anyone who is available."

Kate: "R-really?"

(He was right, I... felt lonely)

(But, could it really be anyone...?)

Had it not been Alfons before me, would I have clung to them in the same way?

Alfons: "Then, if you so desire, shall I continue to provide you with my excellent care for a little longer?"

Alfons: "Now, empty your head and entrust your body to me."

Kate: "W-what are you planning to do...?"

Alfons: "What else... other than trying my hardest to put some heat into your body."

~~~

Alfons: "How is it? Is your body getting hot?

He queried me whilst kneeling at my feet.

Kate: "........."

Alfons: "Kate?"

Kate: "A-ah... I'm sorry. I was just a little surprised..."

Kate: "It feels so good. Thank you for the foot bath."

I felt a little nervous after Alfons' words, but all he did was prepare a foot bath for me.

He put my feet in hot water and massaged them, warming my body from the base up.

Alfons: "I'm glad you liked it. But you were surprised... by what, may I ask?"

Kate: "Huh!? Well... The way you spoke made me think that you were going to do something reprehensible to me..."

Alfons: "Something reprehensible... what exactly?"

Kate: "Erm, that is..."

Alfons: "........."

Kate: "... Are you trying to have fun at my expense?"

Alfons: "I would never! I only asked because I haven't got a clue."

(... that's an utter lie)

Responding to his shameless smile with a reproachful stare of my own, I spoke with seriousness in my voice.

Kate: "... something obscene. I thought that taking care of me was just an excuse."

Alfons: "Oh? That's what you were hoping for. I'm truly sorry I couldn't live up to your expectations."

Kate: "I...I wasn't hoping for anything like that! I was just surprised that you seriously took care of me, unlike your usual behaviour..."

Contrary to my worst predictions, Alfons was today as gentlemanly as one could be, a changed man.

Alfons: "You seem to have misunderstood something... it's not my intention to hurt you in any way."

Alfons: "I wouldn't force you to do anything, more so when you're unwell."

Kate: "... you wouldn't, huh?"

(Hmm? But if that's the case...)

Kate: "... somehow, nothing stopped you from doing all sorts of things to me in the past."

The corners of his mouth lifted in response to my perfectly reasonable question.

Alfons: "Becuse you haven't disliked it so far, have you?"

Kate: "That's..."

...not true, is what I wanted to say, but I hesitated.

(Have I truly disliked what he did to me until now...?)

(I...)

Alfons: "... It doesn't matter if you can't recognise it now."

Alfons: "I'll wait until you're ready to face yourself."

He smiled as if he knew me better than I knew myself.

Alfons: "When that happens... let's spend even more pleasant moments together."

~~~

He was like a demon who corrupted people with his sweet words...

a disease afflicting me, reaching deeper than any cold ever could.

~~~

#ikemen villains #ikevil #alfons sylvatica #ikevil alfons #ikevil collection event #fan translation

[detectivemarvelingcomics]

Not Your Classic Vigilante [Ch. 10]

Alternate Dimension AU TW: Language, Mentions of Death, Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Body Horror, Monsters be destroying shit, Lots of Gore, Fires, Major Character Injury CW: OC Use, See the OC Guide [Here] Genre: Drama, Action, Angst, Light Comedy Pairing: Batfamily & Batsis!Reader, OC x Reader YN Pronouns: Female (She/Her) Word Count: 4.9K

(10/?) [First] | [Previous] | [Next] [DC Masterlist] | [Not Your Classic Vigilante Masterlist]

Notes: HA I FINISHED IT Bi-annual update fr fr

Disclaimer: This series is originally by @fandom-meanderer who is a close friend of mine, but she has since fallen out of her Tumblr days and asked me to finish a few series for her, hence why I am now in ownership of the Not Your Classic Vigilante series, I hope I can still live up to her writing as I rewrite this series! (I promise not to change too much, hehe)

Taking heavy breaths, you took your time to steady yourself. Your hands were beginning to cramp from how long you’d been holding your rapier, and your uniform had been singed and torn at the edges. You stood your ground, but barely, and before you the daemons were twice your size, maybe even more, but they were mutated so heavily that you couldn’t even tell what they used to be. If one thing was certain, it was that you’d never seen a monster like them before. The casualty count, although you didn’t know it specifically, was immense. Today, regardless of whether or not you made it out alive, is a huge loss for the Guard. 

“Captain! The S squadron has arrived!” You heard a voice shout. Reinforcements have just arrived at the nick of time, whilst more beasts wandered out of the woods and towards the ravaged town.

“You see the situation, if you find any living civilians they are your first priority to get to safety, we’ve determined the daemons’ weak points to be their underbellies, aim for that area first! The skin is loosest there,” you commanded. “This place is already razed down, I don’t understand why they keep coming,” you mumbled. An axe lodges on the ground next to you, just barely missing your side. “Nixon! Now’s not the time to get lazy!” You pulled the axe with one hand and flung it back towards him, something he easily caught while blocking off the daemon’s claws.

“Thanks, Cap!” You couldn’t respond, too busy dodging the swings from the daemon in front of you. Its movements were slow and heavy, but they hit hard. You could barely get in a good attack with the equipment you had. Turns out, and maybe you should’ve expected this, rapiers aren’t the best for large opponents. 

“Ugh, this is getting nowhere,” you mumbled just as you ducked below the beast’s arms. You jogged back, keeping your eyes on the monster, and you switched out your rapier for the rifle strapped to your back. You aimed quickly, precisely, and with a deep breath you fired. The bullet pierced the daemon’s skin, but, if anything, you just pissed it off more. “Fuck, well, we’re screwed. Is it just me or are these things getting taller?”

“Not just you, Captain! Not just you!” Evangeline scrambles up from the floor, casting a spell to knock away the hoard. The blonde runs next to her Captain, shaking slightly. Instinctively, you took a defensive stance in front of her while reloading your rifle. “Where are they all coming from?” Hints of French laced her panicked tone.

“No clue, but we’re going to be here for a very long time,” you grimaced. “Take deep breaths, Eve, if you can’t handle it we’ll switch to base-tactics,” you said

“There’s just so many of them,” Eve huffs. “Almost like… like they were waiting for us to get here,” she coughs. That struck a cord, you turned to her for a moment, but hearing the monsters roar, you refocused back on the situation, doing your best to push the daemons back. Could all of this have been an elaborate trap? Who was pulling the strings? Now that you had thought about it, it would make sense for this to be a trap. All of the Guard were here, high ranking military officials, Starspire was even a village well known for their exports, getting rid of this area would disrupt many industries. But the village was also far enough for it to still be somewhat controlled. Everything happening here, surely, had to be part of some elaborate plan.

‘Take a deep breath, (Y/N),’ Alex’s words echoed in your head. You looked around the field.

‘Where the hell did you go, asshole?’

‘Calling for backup. I don’t think we’re dealing with the natural world anymore, there must be some sort of magic involved.’ Despite your efforts, you couldn’t find Alex anywhere. ‘Don’t worry, I’m still as much a part of the fray as everyone else. But if my theory is correct then I know someone who could help us.’

‘Call them in, I’ll take anyone at this point, anyone who can get rid of these monsters,’ you replied.

‘Certainly, Captain, remain vigilant.’ Then, his side went silent while you pushed forward. Two magic circles appeared under Eve’s hands as the field became encased in a bright light. Half of the daemons, that had already been hacked away at, fell at the attack, while others trudged on.

“Gah, Eve, warn us before doing that!” Carter rubs his eyes harshly.

“Ay, if it’s getting more than half of these fuckers, hell, do it again, Eve,” Nixon shouts back.

“I’m sorry!” Eve apologizes despite it.

“Are there any more coming in?” You spoke after tapping your earpiece.

“All clear in the North, Captain,” one voice says.

“None coming in from the West either.”

“The East is clear.” You looked forward.

“The South is clear,” you said. “Focus on the remaining daemons, we’ll reconvene once they’ve all been killed,” you flicked the blood off your rapier. “And someone get me an actual sword.”

“Captain,” Carter addressed you curtly while offering his own sword. Regal in all rights, Carter’s sword, much like yours, was a gift from the Royal family. As was every weapon belonging to the Brigade, granted. However, Carter’s was a marvel to look at. A silver broadsword upon first glance, but to its wielder it becomes their greatest protection. You made the trade quickly and just in time, too, for what happened next was something you would have never expected and something you would’ve never wanted to happen.

The sounds of despair and destruction had been drowned out by an all too familiar cry. Cries, when you first ran into the burning village you heard them everywhere. Men, women, and children alike were screaming for help all around you. That was hours ago. To hear shouts that weren’t from your squadron only spelt trouble. You turned your head towards the voice, and saw a sight that was some sick twist of what you’d grown up fearing. Without any care for yourself, granted you had other things to worry about, you sprinted towards the young boy with the silver of the broadsword reflecting the flames. In a delicately crafted move, you felled the already wounded beast. You held your stance, your left arm blocking the one behind you, and your right arm holding the sword parallel to the ground. Then the beast slumped to the burnt earth, making no attempt at any further attacks, but your split decision move wasn’t without consequence. The sharp pain across your front side was enough to tell you that next time you should think more carefully before doing.

“Captain!” Eve was running towards you in seconds, but her actions were a second thought to you. No, you were more concerned about the boy behind you. The boy wearing a ripped uniform, mask half hanging from his face and half tied around his head, and with slight cuts and bruises to his face and hands. True, this was the least of the wounds you’d see him have, but the knowledge that he’d been here long enough to get those was what scared you the most. Once you were certain the beast was dead, you were quick to turn, pull your gloves off, and cradle your hands around Damian’s face.

“How… How did you get here,” you huffed, wavering slightly. You moved his face around to see if there were any bad cuts, and your thumb traced under a fresh, but shallow, one under his eye.

“(Y/N)…” Damian’s eyes widened. His eyes fall to the three large gashes that stretched across your hips and abdomen. “You’re hurt…”

“We don’t have time to worry about that, how did you get here?” You repeated despite the good many number of daemons on the field. You brushed off the sparks on his shoulders and offered to help him up.

“I was looking for you,” Damian took your hand and stood up slowly, you didn’t yet know if it was from shock or if he was hurt.

“Is that the whole story?” People don’t just drop out of the sky. And to enter this universe is something that should be incredibly hard, if not impossible.

“A man in a lab coat brought me here,” his voice was shaken. You didn’t fault him for that, the young boy was just dropped in the middle of a blazing battlefield with heaps of dead bodies sprawled across the ground. It was a sensory overload with the blinding flames and the heavy stench of iron. Not to mention the fact that you were covered in blood, your own, your comrades, and the monsters’ alike. Now wasn’t the time for answers, and you’d be damned if anything happened to Damian here, so, instead you strengthened your grip around his hand.

“Do not, under any circumstances, let go of my hand,” you said firmly, holding your conjoined hands up so he could see, if he didn’t already feel it, the tight hold you had around him. Damian nods, what else could he do in this situation? With your left hand holding Damian and the right brandishing the sword you charged across the battle field. It might be better to carry him at this rate, but then you’d be more susceptible to attacks. Hard to dodge when there’s more weight on your back or on your front. This would be best, if worse comes to worse, you’re sure Damian would forgive you for throwing him to safety. But if he kept lagging behind, then there might be a problem. “Keep up!”

“I’m trying!” Damian barks. It was now you noticed the way he moved his gaze from you to the ground in rapid succession, no doubt trying to keep his steps in align with yours. “If you want to go faster then just let—”

“No, Damian, if I let go of you it would only be seconds before one of those monsters picks you up and kills you, do you understand?” You stopped only for a brief moment before taking off again, seeing one of the daemons take notice of your little brother. “Shit, they’re everywhere,” you said with grit teeth.

“Is that a kid?!” Nixon shouts. He pulls his axe from the broken ground. Damian first noticed the red stains on his white uniform before the disgust directed at him. “Lose him, Cap! He’s slowing you down! He’s going to get us all killed!” You pulled Damian along before he could shout an argument back. One, you just need one building that’s at least a little intact to stash Damian in for the time being.

“Just stay focused, Nixon!” You deflected a piece of charred wood. Damian’s hand slips for a moment and you react with a vice grip. “Don’t let go, Damian!” You shouldn't have been upset, it wasn’t his fault, it was the blood between your hands that made it all the more slippery.

“Sorry!” Damian is taken aback for a moment before regaining his senses. You looked to the woods and watches more of the monsters emerge. Luckily, if there was any in this situation, they seemed to be smaller monsters compared to the daemons. If anything, they were probably scavenger beasts, the lot of them will turn tail and run once they see the daemons, while the braver ones will venture more inward. Though you had to be realistic. A monster is a monster, and that’s an added problem on your plate.

“Oh fuck me…” You shook your head. Then a small ray of light. Sure, the roof was on the verge of caving in, but a house is a house. “Eve!” You turned back for a second to make sure the blonde was still in ear shot and when she notices you running towards the house, she opened a warp portal next to her and slipped in, immediately appearing at the front door to open it, and allowing for you to run into a building and push Damian inside. You knelt to his level, and with a stern expression, instructed him. “Do not leave this building, I’m going to have Evangeline place a protection charm up, alright? I’ll come pick you up once I resolve this mess, then you have to tell me every single thing that happened to you before you came here.” Though you spoke clearly, you knew when words go through one ear and out the other. You’d have to trust Eve to explain the situation to him, but you didn’t know if Damian would trust her.

“I can help.” That’s definitely the last thing you wanted to hear. Typical of Damian, though, he was still young, and he still thinks he can do anything, still thinks that he has to. But not here, and not now. 

“No. You can’t.” You kept your words curt enough for him to not misinterpret them. “This world is very different than our old one. You’re not in Gotham anymore. Those things out there can crush your skull in less than a second, and I don’t need anymore deaths on my mind right now, let alone the death of my little brother. Got it?”

“Yeah…” Damian looks back to your abdomen. It was still bloody but the wound was gone. “What happened to—” That might be the hardest one to explain to him.

“No questions right now. I have to get back out there before any of my teammates die. You can trust Eve, she’s a good friend of mine. Now, please, stay here.” With that, you ran out, slamming the door behind you. Not a moment later, Evangeline ran in, her white and silver uniform singed around the edges. She closes the door and places her hand on it, a magic circle appearing between the two with words of an ancient language inside of it. She waves her hand in the air and the building is surrounded in a veil of blue. She eyes the singed hole in the roof, but pays no mind to it, instead looking to Damian.

“So you must be Damian Wayne, right?” She smiles through the tired breaths. Damian nods and looks out the window. Eve seats him on the ground and hands him a thermos. “The Captain has told me so much about you. I’m Evangeline Chandler, your sister and I are good friends,” Damian suspiciously eyes the thermos, but takes it anyways.

“Yeah?” He unscrews the top, seeing some kind of soup inside of it. Eve takes the thermos from him, placing the cup in his hands and pouring the soup into it.

“Yes! I owe her a great deal. She asked me to give this to you, it’s actually Nixon’s, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind sharing with you,” Eve grins. “You can trust it, Nixon is actually our resident healer. This soup should fix you right up,” she insists. “If you don’t believe me, I can drink it first,” she continues.

“That wouldn’t matter if you’d grown a tolerance to poison,” he gives her a pointed glance.

“Are you saying that the son of a vigilante and an assassin doesn’t have a well built tolerance?” She fires back.

“… touché,” he takes a tested sip of the soup, the immediate taste of a hearty vegetable broth greeting him. He could feel the warmth circle around his face, his chest, and his stomach.

“You don’t have to mind it, Nixon’s vegetarian too,” she chuckles, kneeling down next to him and dusting off her uniform.

“You know a lot about me,” was Damian’s next statement.

“That Captain tells me a lot about you,” she smiles. “Let’s see… you have a dog named Titus, your best friend’s name is Jon, for your tenth birthday you and the Captain went out to an arcade and ended up staying there for hours so you missed your celebration,” she counts the events on her hands, “oh! And how could I forget my favorite story? Whenever you had nightmares, the first place you’d go is to her—”

“I get it, woman,” Damian clears his throat and, again, Eve could only smile.

“And that is exactly how the Captain described you. She doesn’t talk about her family often, but her expression is always so kind when she does, especially when it comes to her siblings. Of course, this is only after a good number of drinks. Goodness, though, once she starts, she won’t stop, it’s a bit cute,” she rests her cheek on her hand. “I’m glad to see that you match her stories.” Damian could only look out the window as the screams got closer.

“What is going on out there?”

“There are quite a few of you correct?” Eve changes the subject and, with the wave of her hand, the voices deemed to dampen out into mumbles. “Two older brothers and two younger brothers, an older sister and two younger ones as well, if what she told me was right.”

“Yeah,” Damian caught on. She’s trying to distract him from the hell outside.

“Let’s see,” her eyes drift up in thought. “Barbara Gordon, Richard Grayson, Jason Todd, (Y/N) Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Timothy Drake, and then there’s you,” Eve says.

“That’s all of us, but recently father brought in a new one, Duke Thomas,” Damian explains.

“Ah, yes, the Captain has explained that her father loved to take in children,” Eve crosses her arms. “But, and perhaps I’m biased, I must say that his biological children are just so adorable,” Eve coddles. “Are you still hungry? I always have something on me.” As much as her efforts to divert his attention were somewhat appreciated, she’s wasting her time on him.

“What exactly is your role?” Damian presses. Eve takes a deep breath in before sighing and shaking her head.

“I should’ve known that it would be a lost cause to try to distract you, you’re very much like your sister in that regard, but I’m keen on at least trying to follow orders. Allow me to introduce myself properly then. I’m Evangeline, Evangeline Chandler, and I am from Earth-78, born and raised in Versailles, France. I’m the magic dealer of this team, you can tell because of these silver linings here, see? However, I specialize in support, which is why my uniform is white,” she claps her hands. “Ah, the Captain, your sister, is a damage dealer, she specializes in up-close combat with blade-type weapons. She truly is amazing.”

“I see… I assume this is normal for you.”

“Not in the slightest, no. Oh, well, battle yes, but not these beasts. These monsters just started coming out of nowhere, actually,” Eve scooted away from Damian slightly and, with a few waves of her hand, an image constructed of light appeared between them, “come take a look. These are the variants we’ve been fighting for quite some time,” she invites him to move the image around. The base animal was a kind of wolf, that much was certain, but the creature had mutated the ability to support itself on its hind legs whilst also gaining articulate hands. It was as if it was some gruesome mix of human and wolf, a terror of nature, and a horror of nightmares.

“What are those?” Was all Damian could say.

“In truth… We have no idea.”

~

Alex stumbled behind a building, holding his phone close to his ear.

“Come on… connect, connect…” he plead. Finally, an answer.

“Alexander.”

“Remember when I told you to come tomorrow? Scratch that. We need you now.”

“What in the blazes is going on? Why do I hear fire?”

“Get over here and I’ll still be alive to tell you.”

“You really don’t take no for an answer, alright, hold out for a few more minutes.”

“Will do. I’ll take care of the stragglers, everyone else move inward!” Alex hangs up the phone, waits until everyone was out of earshot, and pivots on his heel, both hands flying out and several magic circles appearing in the ground in front of him. “Sanguis voragine.” In the slight wave of his hands, the circles began to rotate in on themselves before ultimately converging into a larger one. Spilled puddles and splatters of blood began to move in toward the centers of the circle.

‘Alex, don’t do anything you can’t handle,’ your voice had a warning tone.

‘No need to worry, I'd been saving my stamina for this moment,’ he reassures you before walking into the middle of the vortex. 

You, meanwhile, glanced behind you at the fortified safe house. You’d instructed Eve to keep your brother busy, but you didn’t know how long he’d sit still. You’d have to wrap this up quickly now, somehow, at least.

“Okay,” you took a deep breath yourself, steadying the sword in front of you such that you were facing the blade. “Infallible guard,” a magic circle surrounded the sword and, in moments, a clear barrier surrounded you.

‘Perhaps I should’ve said that to you.’

‘See you on the other side.’ You readied your blade for what you hoped to be the final time that night, and charged forth.

~

Eve looked like she’d just seen a ghost. Eyes wide and jaw tensed.

“What’s wrong?” Damian asked quietly, a now empty thermos in his hands. Eve, wordlessly, stumbled to the window and peered outside.

“They’re using artifacts,” she mumbles, she looks back at Damian. Your orders conflicted with her morals.

“What are those? Something bad?”

“Call it a last resort. It should be fine since it’s (Y/N) and Alex but…” her scarred fingertips rose to her mouth habitually and, before she could begin to lightly bite down on them, she answered, “they take a lot of stamina to use, some that I doubt those two still have,” she mutters. She takes a seat with Damian once more.

“Then leave me here, I can fend for myself well enough,” Damian insists.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, young sir,” she replies. “Even if I wanted to, the Captain benched me,” she shakes her head. “I’m unfit for battle at this moment,” she stretches her hands out, the cuts and tears on them, fresh and weeping, were enough to tell Damian all he needed to know. “What good’s an archmage with anxiety?” She laughs pathetically. “Plus, I do enjoy talking with you,” she nudges him softly. “You must be so confused, aren’t you? Scared, maybe, but too stubborn to admit it. I don’t blame you, we all were like that before as well,” Eve clasps her hands together. “You know, I had a brother around your age as well, Felix, I haven’t seen him in so long, he’s back home where he belongs though,” she rests her cheek on her hand.

Curse his sister, it wasn’t Eve on babysitter duty, it was him also.

Damian couldn’t help but glance out the window again, the flames had begun to die down, he could tell from the way the room slowly darkened.

“Your family must be worried,” Eve tries to strike a conversation yet again.

“They don’t care.”

“Or so you think,” she shoots back. Then, when someone bangs on the door, both people stood up in guarded stances. “Being unfit for battle means nothing in war,” she sighs. She picks up her gloves from their spot on the rugged table. Despite the state of herself and her uniform, the gloves were pristine. She slips them on.

“Could be one of your teammates.” The door started to strain against its hinges.

“They would’ve been able to open the door,” a magic circle appears in her palm, “your sister told me to keep you safe at all costs, please respect her wishes.”

“If she’s really my sister then she knows I won’t,” Damian stood next to her, ready.

“She told me that you’d say that too,” the door bursts down, one of the few remaining beasts stood tall at the doorframe. “Divina vocatio,” she chants. Veils of light surround the both of them. “Have faith, Damian, that I will keep you safe,” she says. The beast roars in a way neither of them had heard before. The magic circles in either of Eve’s palms begin to rotate counter to each other as she crosses her wrists in front of her. As soon as she broke the formation, multiple circles appeared in a cross pattern over the beast’s chest, effectively pushing the beast back, but not doing much to detain it, rather, it charged despite it.

What could he do in this situation? Think, Damian. He scanned the shack for anything he could use. The image that Eve showed him, something stood out to him, but he couldn’t quite put where he’d seen it from. Then, kicked under the bed, something gleamed against the dying flames. He dove toward it, holding it up and the beast stopped. Eve chanced a glance back.

“Crucifix…” she holds her hand out and Damian tosses it toward her. “Made of silver,” she weighs it in her palm. The beast takes a step back. It could only work as a repellant, but as a weapon it was hard pressed. Damian looked around again, something made of silver, anything. The cross in Eve’s hand was a likely choice, but he’d rather not chance the karma. Surely there’d be something else?

Well, fuck it. He ran toward Eve, hand outstretched to grab the one silver item in his sight. Then, blood, lots of it. He and Eve turned to the beast, who’d been cut clean in half. Its torso slid to the ground in front of them, while its legs fell backward. Nixon stood at the door, if anyone had never seen him before, they’d think his uniform to be naturally red. Without a word, he falls back, completely passed out.

“This fool,” Eve clicks her tongue. “Help me pull him in here, would you?” She asks.

“Sure,” they both grab one leg each and pull him in, Eve slamming the door shut and placing another charm on it.

“His axe is made of silver,” she says. “And his artifact is an imperial one of strength,” she explains it well enough but Damian still stared blankly at her. “Meaning he’ll be out for a while,” she shakes her head.

~

“Where’s that help you were talking about, Alex?” You shout, stumbling backward and just barely keeping your balance.

“On his way… hopefully,” Alex bumps into you, the magic circle under him flickering weakly.

“After all the damage has been done,” Carter backs against the two of you.

“Well… the good news is that there’s one left,” you handed the sword back to Carter and held your rifle instead.

“And the bad news is that it’s the biggest one,” Carter sighs. You spot your rapier sticking out of it’s shoulder blade.

“Well… your effort is appreciated, Carter,” you nudged him and Carter stumbled further from you. “We’ll need a miracle.” The beast groaned.

“We are called the miraculous trio,” Alex takes a step back, distancing himself from the beast to ready an attack. “Let’s live up to that title,” Alex bends down slowly, tapping the blood puddle beneath him.

“You think we’ll get a raise?” Carter asks.

“Nah,” you aimed your rifle. “Dead Shot,” you said under your breath. A magic circle appeared on the daemon’s body. “There,” you pulled the trigger and Alex focused a ring of magic circles on it. “Carter!” Carter slid in front of you and launched the sword forth, the tip barreling toward the beast before the sword impaled it. The beast staggered back, but it did not fall. Instead, it looked to you, directly at you, in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

“W… W… Wayne,” the beast growled out. You held your hand up, stopping Alex from dealing the last hit. “I… know… you,” it fell forward, but still it’s gaze never wavered. “Do… know… me…?” It asked. You took a step forward.

“Hey,” Carter spoke up.

“It’s fine,” you reloaded your rifle. Soon, you were an arm’s length away from the beast. You spotted a hint of silver on it’s neck and, as if it were calling you, you pulled it out of it’s loose and tattered skin. It was an ID tag, one that every Knight received, hell, yours was around your neck right now. The name was almost entirely worn through, but you could still just barely read it.

Then… realization. You staggered back, suddenly feeling weak in every limb.

“Captain?” Carter’s voice behind you again.

“Oh my god…” You shook your head. You looked around the battlefield, corpses of knights and beasts all around, and then to the one in front of you. You fell onto your knees and you placed your hand on the beast’s head. “You served well, Major Syke,” you said the name on the ID.

“Thank you,” the beast breathed it’s last before stilling. The field was quiet, quiet except for the sound of you pulling your rapier out of the Major’s shoulder. You turned your earpiece on and waited for it to connect.

“The field is clear, report the total number of casualties and damages to me whenever you can, we will regroup in the North delta base,” you turned the comm off and turned around to Carter and Alexander. “Don’t tell anyone this,” you whispered, “but… we’ve been killing people.”

Not Your Classic Vigilante Tag List : @gabytodd @peachydokii @marshmallow12435 @f0leysgurl @luminaaz @lolsnack @akuri-shinsou @pansinspace @time-shardz @lovely-maryj @urminebutidontwantyou

If you want to be added to either tag list or removed just send me a reply to this post, and ask, or a DM and I’ll add you as soon as possible!

#dc #batman #batfamily #batfam #batsis #batsis fics #batfamily x batsis!reader #batfam x reader #batfamily scenarios #batfamily x reader #batsis!reader #batfam fics #batfamily fics #batfamily x batsis #batfam x batsis!reader #batfam x batsis #my writings #nycv

[robogart]

Shadowheart's high pitched voice is actually really empowering to me as someone with a high pitched voice... :T thanks for perpetuating the idea that women sound "childlike" for that. I had to unfollow for how rude you've been about this character, why totally redesign her if you despise her so? Cannot imagine spending so much energy on something you don't like. If I don't like a character I just don't draw them at all, it's really that simple. Why spread so much negativity? You could have gone about this in a better way if you really wanted to redesign her, coming in with this like "I fixed her" attitude is extremely off-putting.

First off, that's great that you find Shadowheart and her voice empowering to you. Having a higher pitched voice on its own isn't childlike to me and, if I'm thinking of the post where you're getting this from, I just said that her voice sounds very young, I didn't reference it's pitch at all.

And I don't think the actual pitch of her voice is particularly high either - I just think she sounds very youthful and her character has a sort of youthful arrogance that feels very "teenage" in its delivery. And it's this delivery that, when coupled with her design and her writing, I find perpetuates a women character trope I personally dislike. This trope of eternal feminine youthfulness and, especially when paired with this amnesiac/brainwash characteristic, a sort of "born sexy yesterday" feeling to her that is already so prevalent with SO many "strong young women" characters in media. I just don't particularly like constantly seeing it. It's a preference and it's not for me - especially with how it's treated here, which doesn't seem to add anything different to this type of storyline. I wish it was handled differently in the writing.

Regardless, you're completely missing the point with this Shadowheart drawing. As you feel empowered with hearing the voice acting from this character, I feel empowered drawing/reimagining characters as fat. There is close to zero representation of fat characters in media who are being portrayed as strong, interesting, beautiful, and desirable characters - especially as part of the main cast. The representation for characters like Shadowheart is plentiful in media spaces, oversaturated even, and if I can draw characters like her in designs - in this case, where they are literally completely the same except they are fat - then I'm going to do it. Because doing this makes me feel - what you called "negativity" - nothing but joy. I feel immense joy reimagining characters as fat. It makes me feel seen, and that gives me joy. It makes others feel seen, and that gives me joy. It brings in people who are excited and love to see change and different bodies in these spaces, and that brings joy.

Me critiquing this game is not me despising it, far from it actually. If anything I'm enthusiastically frustrated. The reason I am so impassioned with this game is because I enjoy so many aspects of it and see so much potential for ways that I would love to see it improved. This is something that I, and many others, enjoy doing. It's fun to think about, it moves your brain around - it's called critically consuming something, not hating it. There's a difference.

It's probably for the best that you unfollowed because this doesn't sound like a space for you at all. I'm glad to be off-putting in these situations because I will stand for what I want to see more of - respectful depictions of fat people in media - and I will continue to do so.

#bg3 response

[reconstructwriter]

So I Finally Finished Attack of the Clones

...for the very first time. When did this movie come out again? I am late, is there still room on this bandwagon? Anyway more thought vomiting on this movie...

Sith Pattern: I do appreciate that Palpatine is old, rich, white male fascist. Dooku is old, rich, white male fascist. Anakin shakes things up a bit by starting out young and poor but he’ll get there and has the rest down. Meanwhile our heroes are Padme Amidala, Mace Windu, Yoda, Bail, etc. Would have loved for George Lucas’ original casting of Obi Wan to have gone through! This does make Mirror!verses and morality flip AU's very weird because the Galaxy is being saved from aliens by three white guys? Unfortunate implications aside I can suspend a lot of disbelief about laser-swords and magic IN SPACE but I gotta draw the line somewhere.

Anakin’s attachment: Is well-shown here with convenient comparison to Cleigg – her husband and her son, the two who should love Shmi the most. At her funeral Cleigg is all ‘you’re in a better place. Thank you for the time we had,’ vs Anakin’s ‘I wasn’t strong enough to save you, I won’t fail again’ and ‘I miss you’. Exact opposites. Cleigg was entirely focused on Shmi while Anakin was focused on himself.

Also Anakin’s focus kinda screwed up Obi Wan’s mission when he wasted precious moments FINDING Anakin to get his galactically-important message through.

Mace Windu Not Killing Dooku: Shatterpoint, along with some fanfics, has Mace beating himself up for not ending the war by killing Dooku but my man you’re too hard on yourself! You only killed Jango when he decided to fuck around and find out with you in the death arena. Dooku did not fuck around and find out so your only chance would’ve been to throw away all your Jedi morals and stab him in the back! Thus risking becoming Darth Tyrannus 2.0 and screwing the galaxy.

Jango why did you fuck around and find out? I get Mace held a laser sword to your throat and you had a working jetpack going into the arena…but that arena is No Man’s Land. Even if Galidraan was canon you could’ve stayed back and taken pot shots.

The scene with Boba giving one last keldabe kiss to his father’s helmet is heartbreaking! Ouch!!!

Padme: So I kinda get being willing to confess her terrible taste in men on Space Fantasy Death Row. She doesn’t want to live a lie and is straight up expecting to die so what does it matter if she confesses? And then she does live so consequence time! Still feels like she’s ignoring the genocide – or George Lucas is ignoring the obvious implications. Genocide does work for foreshadowing Jedi genocide and Nazi comparisons (boy howdy does it!!!). But murdering every single member of an entire tribe down to the babes in arms doesn’t work for ‘Anakin doesn’t Fall here, he just dips his toe in the Dark’.

Padme otherwise doesn’t seem too terribly out of character throughout. She stands her ground against Anakin and where she does give in – rescuing Shmi – or chooses to go after Obi Wan? Well both did do her immensely big favors it’d be weirder if she brushed them off. Plus, rescuing both comes with additional benefits – no assassin will look for her on Tattooine (it worked before) and Obi Wan’s rescue could offer the opportunity to discuss peace with the Separatists before war happened.

And it did – in the cut scene :P

Dual with Dooku: So Anakin did put his duty first when Padme fell in the (barren, sans enemies) sand with an ally but damn if his attachment to her wasn’t still affecting him. The hot-headed idiotic attack was the worst possible timing! Why does everyone beat Mace up (including the man himself) for not killing Dooku but give Anakin a pass when he had every chance of ending the war Right There if he’d been able to keep his head on straight for two minutes.

The End: As with the first movie, we end with Mace and Yoda clearly knowing what the Sith are doing, though they're split with Mace believing Dooku while Yoda thinks its a trick. And I think they’re both right because I read somewhere Dooku and Palpatine were hoping to sow doubt between the Jedi and the Senate but also was telling the truth – from a certain point of view. Anyway, they aren't oblivious. Yoda straight up says the Shroud of the Dark Side has Fallen.

The last scene really drives that home! How the beginning of the war is the beginning of the Empire. The war kills the Republic and this is repeatedly smacked into our brains with the imagery of Palpatine standing at the head of everyone else, the most powerful Supreme Chancellor ever as the army of white-clad troopers marches out into the galaxy below him. The Destroyers lift off. The Empire’s freaking theme music plays.

Overall the movie had its high points and stinkers but that was a damn fine end!

#star wars #star wars prequels #Attack of the Clones #Part 2 of my watching this for the first time #I mean I saw bits and pieces but #anidala #padme x anakin #was a major turn off #honestly hard to get through here too #but some other good stuff #Mace Windu #Yoda #Jango Fett #Obi Wan Kenobi #Cleigg Lars #Shmi Skywalker #Padme Amidala #and the man who wrecks their lives #Anakin skywalker #anakin critical

[goodluckclove]

On the Autonomy of Character (Or: How I Fucked Up and am Now Fucked)

Hi! It's me. It's Clove Gardener, the writer who was diagnosed as schizoaffective at age 12 but 15 years later was informed that they would've likely been entirely neurodivergent if not for the severe C-PTSD that those doctors in their childhood missed at the time. Oops. Turns out I just have a big imagination, and that's going to come across strong in what I have to talk about today.

I'm a big proponent of character autonomy in writing - always have been, always will be. I don't outline more than a loose conception of what I'd like to happen, but as I say that I know there's a chance that i might not. Because what I hold highest in my work is my sense of character, which often results in my characters being the ones that get to control what actually happens.

I hear a lot of writers allude to this in posts on here, but they don't go into detail. I'm going to try and explain what that means to me in an attempt to make the process make more sense to writers who prefer a bit more control and structure.

(edit: this is a ramble be warned)

For the most part it's not too obtrusive. I'll use my novel Blind Trust (E-Book available now, paperback hopefully coming out next week) as an example. There's a point in writing it that Edgar, our befuddled initial narrator, learned some information that would really come as as a shock to his love interest Scott.

Well, okay, I mused as I wrote it, he would want this to be a secret. I'll have to navigate that.

Counter to that thought, Edgar ended up telling Scott immediately. Literally, as soon as the two of them were alone. Because by then, even though I knew it would make more thematic sense, I had enough of a grasp on Edgar's character to know that he would not be able to keep this to himself.

That's usually what it looks like. Small ripples that change the current, but ultimately keep the boat riding easily. Then, a solid 100k into the sequel Migration Patterns (Also I just realized I hit 100k yay me), my cast made the biggest executive decision of the story so far.

Let me explain. Where I'm at right now, Katy Delaney and her brother are in Nebraska, and they have to drive a few states over to Oregon. The problem is that Katy is currently having her brother's house patrolled constantly by guards from Stillrush Outreach Center, the closest witch town. This includes three birthrights, one of which being Fern, a deaf ex-Navy Seal.

So that was my problem. These guards are tasked specifically to keep Katy safe, meaning they aren't going to want her to fuck off for no good reason. She needed to escape, right? That's what I thought. That's what Katy and her brother thought too. So after some brainstorming with my wife I ended up devising a ploy for them to fake a fire that would allow them to escape in the following chaos.

Here's the thing, though - and this really centers on the fact that Fern is causing me a lot more trouble than I expected for a character that was meant to be a one-off escort. The plan was to make enough smoke in a trash can fire to trigger the alarm and call a truck - but of course the guards would see it too.

Two Academic witches don't pose too much of an inconvenience - they're rule followers, they know to wait for authority. Even the two less-experienced birthrights would wait for orders before trying anything. Fern, though. Jesus Christ. Fern had years of training and an immense knight's complex, so before the firetruck even had a chance to get there they burst through the front window in case she needed to be rescued.

I didn't plan for this, but it made sense. Birthrights aren't typically bad people - they aren't all perfect, but birthright magic is typically used in the name of either social services or community good. So if someone needs help, a birthright helps - it's just a part of the culture. It definitely clashed with my plans to have Katy escape and get on the road.

And it also immediately made Katy feel like a total asshole, because of course it did. She typically gets itchy and uncomfortable around shows of heroism and goodness, even though at her core he is very much a good person. So now Clove, the writer wants Katy to book it and go on a fun road trip with her brother. But Katy Delaney sees someone who got hurt trying to save her from a danger that she made up, and she immediately thinks "well fuck, now i have to help".

So she helps Fern out of the house, and once they get themselves patched up and Katy meekly explains the weird prank and the situation it was trying to solve (Trying to keep the spoilers at a minimum), Fern is silent for a long time. Then they make a very simple conclusion.

I'm coming with you, they say.

Now Clove, the writer, the one who brought these people into existence, is like "NO. I DID NOT PLAN FOR THIS. I HAVE TO WRITE TWO MORE BOOKS AND YOU WERE NOT GOING TO BE IN THEM, FERN. WHERE DO YOU GO NOW? YOU'RE JUST GOING TO OREGON?"

But Katy feels guilty. Katy feels tired. Katy's very disorientated by how much she's suddenly feeling.

"I DO NOT THINK YOU'LL LIKE IT IN BLUEROSE, FERN," Clove, the writer, tries to insist. "I DON'T THINK THE PEOPLE IN BLUEROSE WILL LIKE THAT YOU HAVE A GUN AND KNOW HOW TO USE IT, FERN."

But Fern feels obligated to Katy. Maybe she reminds them of someone they used to know. Someone that they failed in the past and refuse to fail again.

"I DID NOT PLAN FOR GUN-TOUTING WITCHES TO BE THIS BIG A PLOT ELEMENT IN MY COMFORT-CORE ASEXUAL FANTASY SERIES, FERN," Clove wails inside their head.

It's too late, though. Clove is weaker than Fern and as much of a bleeding-heart as Katy insists she isn't. Katy agrees, and now I have two and a half books that now must at least make reference to an ex-military witch who's quick with a gun and canonically loves ska.

I don't have an inspirational ending for this. I truly don't. I'm gonna do it, because I know it's what the characters would do, and shoving them in a mold that does not fit just to appease my false sense of ego would turn storytelling into masturbation.

So yeah, guys. Fern is here. They don't have a first or a last name or any real appearance other than tall and I think tattooed, but fuck it. Fuck it. Whatever, guys. You win.

#writeblr #writing community #writers on tumblr #authors of tumblr #on writing #writing #queer writers #migration patterns

[zapreportsblog]

Hi, can I please request a Poly yandere Volturi kings X reader with the following idea: reader’s parents suddenly went missing after a trip to Italy offered by a beautiful woman, and reader went there trying to find them, eventually the leads lead her to Volterra and she encountered the Volturi, the kings realised she is their eternal mate and invited her to the a castle, where they explained their vampire identity and wanted her to be their mate.

Still hesitant, reader was pondering when she looked around the room, she was in shock when she saw Heidi, a vampire of Volturi was the one whom made the trip offer to her parents. Dread filled her hearts as her asked the kings where do they get their “food” from, and once they confirmed it is Heidi, she knew she lured her parents to Volterra and be eaten as Volturi food. Rage and sadness overwhelmed her as she rejected to be their mate on the spot, and screamed how she would be died than be with the murders of her parents before she stormed out of the castle in tears.

I am sorry it is detailed, this is more of a background of a scenario than a struck guideline and you don’t have to write the whole thing, I am mainly curious to see what would happen in this situation. Thanks a lot.

❝from the darkness the light exposes itself❞

✭ pairing : poly volturi kings x reader

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ summary : (Y/N) faces an unimaginable crisis when her parents mysteriously vanish during a trip to the enchanting city of Volterra, Italy. As the authorities' investigation leads to a dead end, (Y/N) is left with no choice but to take matters into her own hands. Driven by an unwavering determination to uncover the truth, (Y/N) embarks on a journey to Volterra, delving into the dark secrets of the city's ancient history and the enigmatic Volturi, a ruling coven known for their immense power and centuries-old existence. As she delves deeper into the mystery, (Y/N) stumbles upon a revelation that shakes the very foundation of her understanding of the supernatural world. She discovers that she is the mate of not one, but three Volturi kings – Caius, Marcus, and Aro.

✭ authors note: lol are you ready to cry?

✭ twilight masterlist 2

The morning sun cast a warm glow through the curtains of (Y/N)'s family home as a sense of excitement filled the air. It was the day her parents, Mr. and Mrs. (Y/L/N), were setting off on a much-anticipated tour of Volterra, Italy. (Y/N) watched them with a mixture of pride and worry as they bustled about the living room, preparing for their journey.

Her mother, Mrs. (Y/L/N), an elegant woman with a graceful demeanor, carefully folded a map of Italy and placed it into her leather-bound travel journal. She was an avid historian, and this trip was a dream come true for her.

"Make sure to water the plants and take care of Winston, dear," her mother instructed, a warm smile gracing her lips as she adjusted her scarf.

(Y/N) nodded, feeling a pang of anxiety in her chest. "I will, Mom. But are you sure you want to go? Volterra seems like a mysterious place."

Her father, Mr. (Y/L/N), a kind-hearted man with a reassuring presence, approached her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, sweetheart. Volterra may have its legends, but it's also a city rich in history and culture. We'll be fine."

(Y/N) smiled weakly, knowing her parents' adventurous spirits well. She hugged them tightly, whispering, "Just promise me you'll be careful."

They exchanged heartfelt goodbyes, and as (Y/N) watched her parents head towards the waiting taxi, her heart swelled with both pride for their adventurous spirit and a gnawing sense of unease about their destination – Volterra, a city that held secrets of its own.

One month had passed since (Y/N)'s parents had left for their tour of Volterra, Italy, and they still hadn't returned. A sense of unease had grown into a looming cloud of despair, and (Y/N)'s worry had reached its breaking point.

With each passing day, her anxiety deepened. The first week had been a mixture of frantic phone calls and emails, trying to reach her parents, but all attempts had been met with eerie silence. After that fateful week, she had no choice but to file a missing persons report with the authorities.

However, as days turned into weeks, and the weeks into a full month, the investigation seemed to have hit a dead end. There was no sign of her parents, no clues, no leads to follow. (Y/N) felt like she was trapped in a nightmare, unable to wake up.

But she refused to give up. She combed through every email, every piece of correspondence, and every detail of her parents' trip. She researched Volterra exhaustively, trying to uncover any hidden truths or potential dangers they might have encountered.

With a heavy heart, (Y/N) had also reached out to friends and family for support, sharing her relentless quest to find her missing parents. The support of loved ones became her lifeline, but she knew that the burden of searching weighed heavily on her shoulders alone.

Determined not to lose hope, (Y/N) continued to make inquiries, visit local authorities, and send inquiries to various agencies. She felt as if she were chasing shadows, but the love for her parents fueled her determination.

As the days turned into nights, and the uncertainty of her parents' fate gnawed at her, (Y/N) knew that she couldn't stop searching. She was willing to go to any lengths to uncover the truth behind their disappearance, even if it meant venturing into the heart of Volterra itself, a city that had stolen her parents and hidden them in its enigmatic embrace.

(Y/N) stood at the bustling airport, her heart pounding with a mix of determination and fear. Her best friend's voice crackled through the phone as they spoke one last time before her departure to Volterra.

"Are you absolutely certain about this, (Y/N)?" her best friend asked, concern lacing their words. "You're heading into the unknown, and I'm worried."

The airport announcement echoed through the terminal, announcing the final call for (Y/N)'s flight. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "I have to do this," she replied resolutely. "I can't sit around waiting any longer. If I don't find answers in Volterra, I'll never have peace."

Her best friend sighed on the other end of the line. "Okay, just promise me you'll be careful. Volterra can be a mysterious place, and you never know what you might stumble upon."

(Y/N) nodded, even though her friend couldn't see her. "I promise, I'm only going to find out what happened to my parents. Nothing else. If I don't contact you back within a week, please file a report. But I'll be fine, I have to be."

The airport announcement grew more urgent, signaling that her flight was about to depart. She quickly added, "And don't worry about me getting caught up with a local. My focus is solely on my parents' disappearance."

Her best friend reluctantly accepted her assurance, though still filled with worry. "Alright, (Y/N), take care of yourself, and please be safe. We'll be waiting for your call."

With a final "I will," (Y/N) hung up the phone, determined to unravel the mysteries of Volterra and find the answers she desperately sought about her parents' disappearance. She knew that the journey ahead would be fraught with uncertainty, but she couldn't let fear stand in her way any longer.

After a long and exhausting flight, (Y/N) finally landed in Volterra, Italy. The city, with its ancient architecture and enchanting charm, felt both welcoming and mysterious. She took a deep breath, gathering her resolve, and immediately contacted her best friend to let them know she had arrived safely.

"Hey, I made it to Volterra," (Y/N) said with a mix of exhaustion and excitement in her voice.

Her best friend's relief was palpable on the other end of the call. "I'm so glad to hear that you arrived safely! How's everything on your end?"

(Y/N) glanced around at the unfamiliar surroundings before replying, "It's a beautiful place, but it's also kind of eerie. I'll start my search tomorrow. I'm staying at a small hotel not far from the city center."

Her friend responded with concern, "Please promise me you'll be cautious, (Y/N). We're worried about you. This whole situation is just... it's hard to believe."

(Y/N) nodded, though her friend couldn't see her. "I know, and I appreciate your concern. But I can't let fear hold me back anymore. I need to find out what happened to my parents. I'll begin my search tomorrow, and I promise to be careful."

Her best friend sighed, clearly still uneasy about the situation. "Alright, but please keep in touch regularly. We'll be waiting for your updates."

(Y/N) agreed and said her goodbyes for the night, feeling a mix of apprehension and determination. She was finally in Volterra, ready to uncover the secrets that had led to her parents' disappearance, and she knew that the journey ahead would be filled with challenges and mysteries waiting to be unraveled.

The next day, (Y/N) embarked on her quest to uncover the truth about her parents' disappearance in Volterra. She began by visiting the local authorities, hoping they could shed some light on the situation. However, their response left her with more questions than answers.

"It's not uncommon for people to go missing in Volterra," one of the officers explained, his tone strangely nonchalant. "Tourists often get lost, or they simply decide to stay longer than planned. It's a mysterious city, after all."

(Y/N) couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that their response was overly dismissive. She knew that her parents wouldn't simply disappear without a trace. Desperation pushed her to look for other avenues of investigation.

As she wandered the city in search of leads, (Y/N) overheard a couple talking excitedly about an upcoming tour. Their conversation piqued her interest, and she approached them, asking about the details.

"We're going on a tour this evening," the woman explained, her eyes shining with anticipation. "It's led by a local guide named Heidi. She's supposed to show us some hidden gems of Volterra, including the Volturi Castle."

(Y/N) felt a rush of hope and curiosity. Maybe this tour could provide some clues or insights into the mysteries of the city. She pressed the couple for more information and learned where and when the tour would begin.

As evening fell over Volterra, (Y/N) made her way to the meeting point for the tour. She had decided to sneak into it, believing that it might lead her to something her parents had encountered.

The tour commenced, and Heidi, an enigmatic woman with a captivating presence, led the group through the winding streets of the city. She shared the history of Volterra, pointing out ancient buildings and mysterious paintings, all the while keeping a watchful eye on her group.

As the tour progressed, Heidi guided them toward the looming Volturi Castle, its dark silhouette dominating the skyline. (Y/N) felt an unsettling sensation in her gut, as if she were stepping into the unknown. She couldn't shake the feeling that this castle held secrets, and she was determined to uncover them, no matter the risks involved.

Heidi led the group deeper into the castle, and (Y/N)'s unease grew with each step.

As (Y/N) descended into the lower level of the Volturi Castle along with the other tourists, an eerie feeling of dread settled in her chest. The air grew colder, and the shadows seemed to dance with malevolent intent.

Suddenly, a group of cloaked figures emerged from the darkness, their eyes gleaming with an otherworldly hunger. Panic swept through the tour group as Heidi, their guide, revealed her true nature, joining the cloaked figures. She was a vampire, and the tourists were unwitting prey.

Chaos erupted as screams filled the air, and (Y/N) watched in horror as the tourists, were mercilessly slaughtered. Her heart pounded in her chest as fear and desperation overwhelmed her.

With adrenaline surging through her veins, (Y/N) made a run for it, hoping to escape the bloodthirsty vampires. But before she could get far, a powerful force sent her crashing to the floor, her body tumbling like a ragdoll.

A vampire, their crimson eyes burning with hunger, approached her, ready to claim her life. (Y/N) fought against her assailant, struggling with every ounce of strength she had left. This couldn't be the end. She had come to Volterra to find answers about her parents, not to meet the same fate.

However, before the vampire could sink their fangs into her, a commanding voice cut through the chaos. "Stop."

The vampire paused, their grip on (Y/N) loosening. Aro, one of the Volturi kings, had intervened. He motioned for the vampire to bring her closer.

(Y/N) was dragged across the stone floor to where Aro stood, her heart pounding as she met the piercing gaze of the ancient vampire king. In that moment, she felt an inexplicable pull, a connection that seemed to tether her to him.

But it wasn't just Aro. Marcus and Caius, the other two Volturi kings, stood nearby, and (Y/N) realized the connection extended to them as well. It was a bond forming, one that transcended her understanding.

Aro's crimson eyes assessed her with a mixture of curiosity and detachment. He noticed the injuries she had sustained during her escape and the terror in her eyes. "It's no use," he murmured, his voice a mixture of compassion and indifference. "We must change her."

(Y/N) struggled weakly, her voice a mere whisper as she protested, "No, please, I don't want this."

But her pleas fell on deaf ears. Aro reached out, gently wiping away her tears. "Do not worry, my dear. All your pain will be over soon."

With a swift, decisive movement, Aro bit into her skin, injecting her with his venom. As darkness closed in around her, (Y/N) realized that her fate was sealed, just as it had been for her parents. The world she knew was slipping away, and in its place, a new existence as a vampire awaited her.

As (Y/N) awoke to the world of the undead, her senses were overwhelmed by a heightened awareness of her surroundings. The world appeared different, colors more vivid, and scents more intoxicating. Panic surged through her as she realized the gravity of her situation.

She tried to escape, her instincts screaming for freedom. She moved with preternatural speed, but it was no use. The Volturi had trapped her in a tower, and escape seemed impossible. She pounded on the walls, screamed for help, and begged to be released, but her pleas fell on deaf ears.

Desperation clawed at her, and her screams grew more desperate. She couldn't accept this fate, couldn't bear to be a prisoner in this dark, unfeeling world.

In response to her distress, the Volturi kings, Aro, Caius, and Marcus, decided to use Chelsea, their gifted vampire, to manipulate (Y/N)'s emotions and desires. Chelsea had the power to strengthen or weaken the bonds between individuals, and she was instructed to make (Y/N) want to stay with them.

Chelsea entered the tower, her red eyes fixated on (Y/N). She extended her power, attempting to manipulate the young vampire's emotions and desires. She whispered, "Stay here. It's where you belong. Your mates would be so sad if you left."

But (Y/N) was mentally fighting back. She was determined to resist the influence of this powerful vampire gift. She focused her thoughts on her mates, Aro, Marcus, and Caius, pretending to be swayed by Chelsea's influence.

"I...I should stay," (Y/N) muttered, her voice trembling. "It's for the best."

Chelsea sensed her gift taking hold and nodded in satisfaction before leaving the tower. (Y/N) feigned submission, knowing that her mental strength was her only ally in this dark place.

In reality, her mind was clear and resolute. She would bide her time, play along, and wait for the right moment to escape. Even if it meant ending her own now-immortal existence, (Y/N) was determined to break free from the Volturi's grasp and uncover the truth about her parents' disappearance.

(Y/N) had become a master of deception, playing the role of a submissive, lovestruck companion whenever the Volturi kings visited her in their tower. To the untrained eye, she seemed content, willingly ensnared by their powers. But inside, her heart burned with rage and hatred for the vampires who had stolen her freedom and her humanity.

She bided her time, learning to mask her true emotions behind a facade of affection. When Aro, Marcus, or Caius came to see her, she showered them with affectionate gestures, smiling and pretending to revel in their presence. They were oblivious to the seething turmoil that raged beneath the surface.

One day, however, an opportunity presented itself. The Volturi kings were preoccupied with the Cullens, who had arrived seeking Aro's assistance with a delicate matter involving a member of their rival’s, Edward Cullen. (Y/N) seized this momentary distraction to hone her own unique power – the ability to manipulate fire.

It had been a forbidden gift, as she had inadvertently harmed herself in the past. But now, she had grown stronger, and her control over the flames had improved. She had learned that fire was a formidable weapon against vampires, capable of destroying them.

As she practiced her power in secret, (Y/N) stared off into the distance, her thoughts drifting to the loved ones she had left behind. Her best friend would never be able to find her now, and her family would remain ignorant of the horrors she endured in the tower.

With one final, sorrowful look at the world outside her prison, (Y/N) made a fateful decision. She set herself ablaze, flames consuming her immortal form. In that moment, she became the embodiment of both freedom and vengeance, determined to break free from the Volturi's chains and ensure that no other soul would suffer as she had.

As the fire consumed her, her last thoughts were of the life she had lost, the loved ones she could never see again, and the unyielding desire for justice that had driven her to this devastating act.

#x reader #x reader one shot #x reader oneshot #twilight imagines #twilight imagine #twilight x reader #twilight masterlist #edward cullen #aro volturi imagines #aro volturi x reader #aro volturi #aro volturi x you #aro volturi imagine #aro volturi x y/n #marcus volturi imagines #marcus volturi x reader #marcus volturi #marcus volturi x y/n #marcus volturi x you #marcus volturi imagine #caius volturi #caius volturi imagine #caius volturi imagines #caius volturi x reader #caius volturi x y/n #caius volturi x you #twilight #twilight x y/n #twilight x you #twilight scenario

[anavatazes]

They found Abby TLOU2

https://www.ign.com/articles/hbos-the-last-of-us-season-2-finds-its-abby-in-kaitlyn-dever

Now, can all the ASSHOLES that hate Abby LEAVE the actress the FUCK ALONE! After the immense hatred that poor Laura Bailey received for playing a fictional character in a video game, I am fearful how poorly Kaitlyn Dever will be treated, in particular concerning her connection to Pedro's Joel.

⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️SEASON 2 SPOLIERS⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

You are warned. If you don't wanna know what happens, don't go any further.

⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

Ok. Now, for that already know what knows what happens in Part 2, Abby kills Joel in a very horrific manner. Not rehashing it, nor do I really want to turn this into another Abby bashing post. Not my favorite character, but I don't outright hate her, and won't tolerate that shit right now. Time and places, people.

I am concerned because of the absolute hate STILL felt for the character, that it will seep over to the actor in full force, much like it did for LB. Many can't seem to be able to separate the actor and character from each other. They still body shame Abby to no end. I've already seen a bunch of comments where they began body shamming the live action actor before she was even cast.

The misogynistic idiots can be ignored to a degree. But what really worries me are the Pedro fans, similar to the Joel fans, are gonna be so pissed when they see Abby kill Joel. And they didn't know it was coming. Some people can remain oblivious, somehow, in this day and age. How feral are they gonna be? How reactionary are they gonna be? Are they gonna be able to separate the actor from the character? And, more importantly, are the rest of us Pedro fans gonna be mature enough to help guide them to a safe place to get their emotions out where it won't be a complete nightmare for KD AND Pedro?!

Because, c'mon, you can't tell me, that when Pedro sees any fan of his hurt anyone that it doesn't hurt him? The big smush pillow that he is? I see so many people passing around videos and memes about how they're not responsible for your reactions to their actions. That may be so, but you do need to be held accountable if those actions are causing harm. A point that is sorely missed those. The Pedro Fandom is overall protective of our Pedro.

So, I want to kindly ask the Fandom, with love, that when we see this shit happening, and especially when it happens when the show airs, (picture lots of mom/grandma finger pointing here, because that's me), to be nice, be mature, ask them to remember what our Squish Pillow would do (even if he is more chiseled and less squishy right now 😉)? Are we adding to his anxiety? We don't need to do that. The man has more than enough for all of us and don't need no more. Nor does he need another fucking excuse to shrink more away from social media!

Besides, I don't know Kaitlyn Dever. I've never heard of her. I look forward to learning more about her, and seeing what she brings to Abby. Do she and Craig make me see what Neil wanted me to all along? Or is it the same old? But I know this. I won't hate her. She's a human being. Very few things on this planet could make me hate her, and her playing Abby is not one of them.

#pedro pascal #kaitlyn dever #joel miller #the last of us #tlou #joel tlou #ellie williams #tlouhbo #tlou2 spoilers #tlou season 2 #abby anderson #abby tlou #abby the last of us #tlou spoilers

[luminitewrites]

In a Different Light: Scene Two

Back with part two of the Sleuth Jesters!actor AU! AO3 link is above, but the entire chapter will also be included below, as usual. And of course, many thanks to @naffeclipse for these characters who have lived rent free in my head for months now hehe <3

Hope you all enjoy! It's time for those other kisses.

Rating: T Word Count: ~23,300 Content Warnings: Very mildly suggestive content Summary: The animatronic sighs heavily.

“Yes, I know I should have gone with the handcuffs instead. But why else am I supposed to wear suspenders if not to seductively slide them off for you one at a time?”

As he says this, he reaches up and hooks a finger underneath one of the straps. His air is nothing short of coy, like an idea has just taken shape in his devious mind, and he slowly eases the fabric across his shoulder, flirting with slipping it over the edge. A curled metal digit suggestively rubs the suspender. It would probably have a much greater effect on you if his little show wasn’t currently being backed by cheery elevator music, and that alone has your lips spasmodically twitching.

Sun gives the impression of waggling his brows, rife with an emotion you refuse to label.

“Are you seduced yet?” he croons.

~~~

The city streets on New Year’s Eve paint a scene of winter white awash in the pale yellow shine from stores and lampposts. Strings of warm lights keep the sidewalks appearing deceptively cozy, but you know that just beyond the cold glass of the car window is an even brutally colder world. The temperature at last dipped to the single digits today, and with the sun having just disappeared below the horizon, casting the sky in a dark blue and gray mix, everything will freeze over tonight.

Craning your neck so that you can see the sky better, you know that the heavy darkness that greets you from above holds layers of clouds thick with snow. The forecast you caught a glimpse of on the TV before Moon had ushered you out of your home stated that the snowfall accumulation was anticipated to reach an extra five inches.

Probable reason to stay indoors. That hasn’t stopped your work party from staying on schedule at some ritzy, swanky hotel the city is known for, and nothing short of a disaster will impede the event. The show must go on, or so the producer had said. Attendance isn’t mandatory, as today is a company-observed holiday, but it is heavily encouraged since the one previously planned earlier had to be postponed to tonight. Maybe you’re the fool for going to this one, but you’ve actually been really looking forward to it. It’s a chance to celebrate with everyone all the hard work they’ve put into each scene. When the final episode of your team’s triumphant efforts airs, another party will be due, but this one feels extra special despite filming not being done yet. You’re welcoming in the new year together, and after all the time you’ve spent getting to know your coworkers, not going to the party held tonight would feel like you’re missing out immensely. You need this reprieve just as much as everyone else does. 

And… well. The present company attending the party certainly factors into your desire to go. One-third of your favorite attendees sits next to you now, and you pull away from the window of the car to peer at Moon instead.

The beloved hat from his detective costume remains firm on his head—the sole piece he seems to have grown a deep attachment to. It suits him well and almost makes you feel like you’re still in the middle of a shoot, acting out a scene with Detective Moon in his patrol car as you scour the city together.

His gloved hands rest on the wheel, and his eyes remain fixated on the road ahead. A very good thing, given his typical driving habits and the fact that you’re sure he knows most of the city police by name now. Not by choice either. That’s exactly why you didn’t relay to Sun or Eclipse how you were getting to the party until you’d fastened your seatbelt. For one, when Moon had offered to come pick you up and escort you to the hotel, how could you have possibly said no to that? It sure beats paying for an expensive lift to the event. For another, the texts you’ve since received are nothing short of concerned. After the string of praying emojis Sun had posted in the group chat, you’d decided to just put away your phone for the time being.

You’ll be fine. Moon hasn’t hit any obstacles yet, literal or figurative, though that was a bit of a close brush with a tree he had on that last turn.

As he often does, he senses your eyes on him without needing to check. 

“I can feel your stare digging into my faceplate. What is it?” His voice starts out in that soft grumble you’ve come to adore, but then his low pitch lifts to a little more lilting—a tease. “See something you like, maybe?”

The instinctive response that wants to clamber out of your throat is quickly choked down. Even though he’s the one who’s mentioned it, you suspect he has no idea. You’ve long since soared past “liking” him. That conversation you had with Eclipse weeks ago has not left your thoughts since. Every day at work, every night in bed, you’ve thought about what he’d said. What he’d done. You now know that the attraction you feel for the others is not just in your head. That part is indisputable. Having a relationship with Sun, Moon, and Eclipse is appealing to you in no small amount. You just needed the time to realize that on your own and make sure that this attraction wasn’t only a passing fancy.

Judging by how every single one of your waking thoughts has been centered on them for countless hours, you’re pretty sure you have your answer.

In a rare burst of what’s either bravery or stupidity, you decide to throw caution to wind. Your fingers wiggle as they sneak over Moon’s arm that’s closest to you and then dip around his wrist. There is a flash of red as he briefly glances away from the snowy roads, but he has to snap his attention back to the traffic around him. A car honks not too far away.

Honey couldn’t be sweeter than the smile that curls up your face. 

Buoyantly, like you haven’t spent hours agonizing over how to approach your feelings for him, you say in a singsong, airy tone, “I might.”

Moon chuffs. His dry amusement at your antics never fails in elevating your mood, though you couldn’t be happier as it is. You squeeze his wrist playfully, and his hand clenches around the steering wheel. Only a matter of time now.

The swish of the windshield wipers fills the quiet, broken only by the clicking of the turning signal as Moon takes a harrowing left. You’re honestly surprised he remembered to signal at all. His fingers drum atop the wheel while his processor tries to determine if this is a game worth playing. He knows as well as you just how risky diverting any of his fleeting attention from driving is, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t against having a fun time.

Your fingers skirt along the edge of his glove, cheekily dipping in just an inch, and Moon shakes his head.

“You’re betting your life, piccolina.”

You wrinkle your nose at the pet name.

“I’m not that small.”

Moon, contrary to his trepidation, lifts the hand you’ve been toying with off of the steering wheel just to give you a so-so gesture. You snatch the opportunity to claim your prize, but you get the impression that Moon purposely lets you take his hand. His glove creaks as leather intertwines with your own fingers, lacing together and squeezing.

You beam proudly at your catch, and Moon rubs his thumb across your knuckles. He thankfully doesn’t look away from the streets, so you take full advantage of smiling at him and enjoying the moment with your friend. Moon’s presence always embodies a sort of calm that lulls you. He’s someone you can sit with in quiet and not worry about filling the space with words. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve woken up from snoozing on his shoulder. Whenever that happens, you always apologize profusely, but for some reason, it just keeps repeating itself, and Moon thoroughly basks in it—both in getting you to relax that much and also being able to razz you relentlessly about it when you wake up.

You suppose it’s a small price to pay.

“Comfortable?” your companion’s voicebox thrums.

Yes. Very much so. Incredibly so, in fact. But you can’t say that because you don’t want to drop the teasing nature that Moon evokes. The kindness in the simple question wraps around you like a warm hug.

“I suppose,” you trail off with a shrug, and though Moon isn’t even peeking at you, he can certainly see the movement in his peripheral.

He flicks the signal again when he reaches his next turn. You don’t have the heart to tell him he’s signaling in the wrong direction though because at least he remembered to do it, and that’s what counts. As he slowly twists the wheel with only one hand, you hold your breath and hope some of the praying emojis Sun spammed in the group chat have a good effect. The tires skid a little in the slush of the road, but Moon miraculously doesn’t lose control, and he navigates onto the next street without further incident.

You breathe again.

“You suppose?” Moon drawls now that he’s not intensely focused on not crashing into a pedestrian or oncoming traffic. Or not as focused, you should say. 

“Mhm.” You tap your free hand on your thigh and assess the current arrangement that begs to be malleable and crafted to your liking. An idea begins to form.

You glance at the time on the dash. The party started a half-hour ago, which means you and Moon are already late. It’s fifty-fifty on who’s to blame for that one, so you don’t really feel too bad. What’s a few more minutes? Granted, his brothers will probably begin a search party if you don’t show up soon, but you’ll take that gamble.

“So I was thinking,” you cautiously open with, and the words roll across your tongue as you draw them out.

Moon groans.

With a dour metaphorical tongue, he drones, “Here we go.”

He’s already clued in on what you’re doing, and you have to bite your own tongue to stop the laugh that wants to come out when he tightens his grip on your hand. Depending on his mood and how charitable he’s feeling, the lunar animatronic can be swayed by your charm into going along with some scheme or another as long as it’s legal. Often, he’s one-half of the voices of reason in keeping you in line while another brother backs him up (the third being more easily swayed by your wily ways, and you’re not going to name names, but it’s Sun). However, Moon is overlooking one important fact: He’s currently alone with you. You don’t need much more than that.

The seconds drag on as Moon waits for you to lay out your clearly devilish scheme befitting only the worst of criminals. When it becomes apparent that you won’t, he gives another synthetic groan that is entirely disproportionate to the situation at hand, and at the next red light, he comes to a full stop only a little past the white line. Then, he turns to you.

“What is it you want?” he gruffly demands, like you’re about to ask him to commit petty crimes with you again.

Honestly. You’d only asked him that once, and that was just because you’d wanted to see if the vigilante style would suit you in this life too. Moon had acted like you’d offered to start a mob instead, the very opposite of what you were going for, and you think that maybe playing detective has gotten a little too into his head because he’d threatened to turn you over to the cops he apparently knows so well if he caught you doing anything nefarious.

Maybe you should have approached Sun first about that. He seems more like the type to let you do some shady Robin Hood-esque business while covering for you. 

But a little vigilantism isn’t on your plate tonight. Instead, you flutter your eyelashes at Moon, teeth peeking past your lips as you lose the fight in controlling your smile.

“I’d like a coffee please.”

A few more seconds of silence. His eyes don’t leave you for any of it, but you can practically see the mathematical formulas floating past him as he tries to parse for anything illegal in your request.

Slowly, like he’s defusing a bomb, he says, “I’m sure they’ll have that at the party.”

To that, you then amend, “Yes, but I’d like a specialty coffee.”

“…And this coffee would be special how?”

“Because you’ll stop at that really good café a few blocks from the hotel to get it for me?”

It comes out as a question, but your hopefulness is tinged well throughout. You’d clasp your hands in front of your chest if you weren’t already holding his. 

Moon is sometimes difficult to get a read on, and even with no distractions around you, you can’t quite discern if he’s on your side this time. He searches your face like he’s studying some ancient script, committing lines to memory. His thumb still hasn’t stopped the soothing paths it follows across your hand.

Two quick presses to a car horn from behind jolt you and Moon. He resumes driving again, focusing back on the snowy road, and you reluctantly accept that you won’t get your way this time. That’s okay. Disappointing, but you can’t win them all. You’ll finagle things into your favor next—

“Tell me where to go,” comes the defeated exhale from your beloved companion.

You resist the wild urge to cheer and instead gleefully direct him to your new destination. It doesn’t take long to find it at all since the shop is directly along your current route. Incredibly, it’s still open even this evening—just what you were hoping for. Since the storm has begun to worsen, few people are out and about, which means rare street parking is open. Moon pulls into a space that is just a little ahead of the café, and you give his parallel parking the compliment that is due. 

He’s actually really far from the curb in a way that would have not flown if he were taking his driver’s test, but there’s enough room for other cars to squeeze past his if need be. So you’re still proud of him. He gives you a sort of suspicious, sideways frown, but you can tell from the bashful hunch of his shoulders that he’s preening at the attention nonetheless.

Whoever approved his driver’s license is either an angel or an advocate for causing trouble.

You offer to go into the café alone, but he quickly shuts that down and tells you to give him your drink order instead. You reluctantly do, and as you’re rummaging in your coat pocket to give him money for the drink, he’s already out the door and telling you to stay put. The door then slams shut, and Moon hurries through whirling snow to the well-lit doors of the café.

Slumping in your heated seat with an exasperated sigh, you watch him with fondness budding in your chest. He left the car running so you wouldn’t be left in the cold—just another gesture that makes you feel odd inside. Like you’re restless and full of energy that you don’t know what to do with. You’re overflowing with affection for someone you hadn’t known until just months ago, and now, you consider him to be one of your best friends.

For some reason, your head is spinning with emotion.

In the cozy interior of the car, you watch through the snowflakes dotting the passenger window as Moon’s dark silhouette flutters about in the store. The edge of his thick overcoat sweeps around the back of his knees, and the hat he stole from set casts most of his head in shadow. You don’t think he ever intends to part with it. Maybe you should take a page from his book and nab some spare ribbon and bells when all is said and done. The character you play isn’t you, but you can’t help the connection you’ve developed with the vigilante over time. Parting from the show without taking a memento seems wrong. After all, it’s this role that led you to meeting some truly amazing people.

Moon wraps up with the order in little to no time and hustles back to the car as fast as his spindly legs will carry him. The winter wind whooshes inside the car when he opens the door and scurries inside. Just as quickly, the door shuts behind him, and he whistles from the cold shock.

“Might become a block of ice if it gets any chillier out there,” he hisses in a fizzle of static. “I can feel the snow getting in my joints.”

“Don’t worry, mon clair de lune,” you reassure, cranking up the heat to full blast for him. “I’ll be sure to warm you up before you become an icicle.”

“Believe that is my job,” Moon drawls, and he passes you a deliciously smelling to-go cup. “Here.”

He presses the hot cup of coffee into your waiting hands, and you greedily latch onto it while wholeheartedly extending your gratitude.

The aromatic sweetness hits your nostrils fully as you take a deep breath. Pure delight runs through your blood, and you hastily take a very long drag from the wonderful drink, swishing the steaming liquid around on your tongue before swallowing.

“Oh, I could kiss you right now,” you whisper into the lid of your coffee.

Thoroughly savoring the taste of your next sip, your eyelids flutter closed as the heat penetrates that frosty layer that had been persistently clinging fast. This is exactly what you needed. After another deep breath to relish in the richness, you glimpse over to find Moon’s pleased optics on you, soft and as warm as your drink. His smile is small, like he isn’t aware of it. But it changes before you can get a good look, and a familiar slyness overtakes all else.

“What’s stopping you?” he brazenly needles. He’s just playing around again, a harmless prod, but his innocuous question makes you pause like a deer in headlights.

Your hands are warmed by your to-go cup, the wind is whipping at a brisk pace outside the car, and your heart is abruptly thump, thump, thumping away in your chest at a breakneck speed that rivals the December gust.

Such a small, simple, harmless question makes something apparent to you then. There’s no one here but you and him, nothing else to demand your attention. Nothing to hold you back or make you doubt yourself or put you on the spot. It’s just you and the sweet lunar animatronic you hold very dear to your heart.

In this brief ounce of privacy between you and him, you feel a touch braver than usual.

“You know…” your voice mumbles, more to yourself than him, “I can’t really think of anything that is.”

The kiss—correction: two kisses—from Eclipse a few short weeks ago flashes in your mind. He hasn’t pushed once since giving you time to think about it, about how you feel about him. His brothers. A relationship with all three. You’ve been given time to consider fostering that with each of them if your heart yearns for your friends as much as you now know they yearn for you. It hadn’t quite clicked before the reveal that they wanted you. Since Eclipse’s confession, it’s never felt more real, and the way each of them act around you should have clued you in much sooner.

At least you know better now. There’s no writing off the lingering looks or touches or the words that sometimes carry a heavy tint to them. No, they all have meaning finally, and it’s felt like agony forcing yourself to slow down and think things through in the events leading up tonight.

The only one who’s pumping the breaks is you. Nothing is keeping you from just… letting go. No one is here to be a voice of reason as Moon sits beside you, closer than he’s been in weeks. Eclipse said he’d let his brothers speak for themselves about their feelings, but they’ve seemed to avoid the topic out of courtesy to you. No doubt their big brother told them about the moment he’d shared with you in that small alcove under a snowy night, much like tonight. Ball’s in your court now, and you have the chance to play.

You know what your heart wants. You’re sure of it.

So it’s a natural, easy choice for you to give in to the temptation whispering in your ear to stop resisting and just close the distance.

Moon doesn’t move an inch as you lower your drink in one hand and near, the only indication of him realizing what’s coming shown in the widening of his eyes.

With a small sweep of your fingers, you tip back your detective’s hat, hesitating only a moment to wait for any signs of discomfort from either you or him. Finding none but only the giddy anticipation coiling in your stomach and the inviting, subtle lean Moon makes in your direction, you slowly lid your gaze shut, tune out the pounding in your ears, and brush your lips against the cold metal of his cheek.

They demurely curl upward at the crackling gasp he emits. The sound has you wanting to stay, wanting to hear it again. You settle for trailing a ghost of another kiss just along that delicate swirl of metal. Before he can have a chance to react beyond that and before you can start second-guessing your actions, you pull away. Your heart won’t stop racing. It feels like your body is hardly contained to your seat at all and that you’ll glide away if you breathe too hard.

Moon’s dark pupils are blown incredibly large and round. His reaction is exactly what you were hoping for, and a small burst of pride wells behind your sternum. You did that. You made him react that way. You.

It’s a small tick in your confidence category, but even greater is the joy that grows wings and takes flight with you on its back. Moon gapes at you like you’re from the stars above, and you’ve never seen him stare at you like that before, but it’s already strengthening the heat in your cheeks. 

You give him a moment to process and then delicately clear your throat.

“Shall we get going?” you ask your silent companion in an attempt to play coy. Internally, you’re a fumbling mess of a human who’s running around in circles like a dog chasing its tail. The coffee cup trembles in your hand.

Even with your little prodding, he doesn’t seem to quite come out of whatever spell you’ve accidentally tossed him under. Well. Not entirely on accident. You very much kissed him on purpose.

Moon releases a thin hiss of air, like his cooling components are working overtime. He blinks once. Twice.

“What was that for?” he finally utters with tangible awe, but it’s little more than a breath. His voice could melt you into a puddle right in your seat.

You think back to what Eclipse said to you that night at the start of the month. A helpless shrug lifts your shoulders.

“Oh, you know. Just felt like getting a head start on the new year’s tradition.” Then, to make sure he’s on the same page as you, you add, “I take it Eclipse told you what happened a few weeks ago. About… testing the waters.”

Instead of scoffing, Moon softens almost imperceptibly. You’re starting to think he has no intentions of ever looking away. He lifts a hand towards you but then hesitates. Searches you for something you aren’t sure of. You lean your head to the side in invitation, and his hand cups your face much like Eclipse’s had.

In a sotto voce tone that crawls into your bones and makes its home there, he murmurs, “Clip asked us to give you time. That you wanted to think about it first. That’s why I—why we haven’t said anything. But I also don’t want you to feel like I’m not interested. Because I am. Interested, that is. Very much. In a way that’s probably more eloquent than I am when I’m around you.”

He gives an adorable little giggle that betrays his nervousness, and you titter alongside him.

Unable to not rib him just a little, you say, “Why, Detective Moon, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were feeling shy.”

“Funny. Don’t get used to it,” he warns, but he’s smiling as he does.

It feels good to know that you’re not the only one off your game at this. Makes it more lighthearted. No perfect lines or filtered dialogue like in front of the camera. The mask is off, and the sight you’re seeing beneath it is even more precious to you.

Moon takes a moment to process his next words, and you can tell by the thin whine stemming from his chassis that he’s heavily considering them. You stay quiet as you wait, and when his brow furrows, you know he’s settled whatever internal debate he was warring with.

The chilled hand is slowly warming at your cheek. The emotion on his face runs parallel to what’s been burning in your heart all this time.

“Would you mind if I got a head start too?” he tentatively asks.

There’s no ignoring the knot in your throat. Your stomach is flooded with antsy excitement, and you try to tuck away an errant strand of hair that keeps falling out of place. You feel like you’re shaking from nerves and eagerness. Imagining this exact moment playing out in your head for the past few weeks is very different from suddenly living it now.

You do your best to hide the thrilled tremor in your voice.

“I don’t see why not.”

The words probably don’t come across as confident or unaffected as you’d like, but then Moon is swiping away that loose bit of hair just as easily as he does so your thoughts. You feel him tuck it behind your ear, his fingers brushing back against your cheek a second time before sneaking around to the back of your scalp.

No resistance is offered when he pulls you close. You let your eyelids fall shut again just in time to shiver at the effervescent tap of his permanent grin to the very small corner of your lips, once again surprising you with the location of the kiss, though you won’t complain one bit about that. He doesn’t keep you for very long, but it’s enough that you have to let out a ragged breath that’s been building up ever since he teased you. His kiss leaves you spinning. That’s two for two that you’ve been caught off guard by a romantic display of affection. Well-played.

He shifts back some so that you can make eye contact—a simple task that you are now failing miserably at with impeccable odds.

You feel faint from the swell of emotion that this animatronic manages to pull to the surface with just a single kiss.

A flighty exhale precedes your shaky voice.

“Would it be cliché if I said ‘wow’ after that?”

Moon’s answering smile shines with elation. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the often stoic animatronic so profusely happy.

But before you can dwell on that, something else then catches your notice from his proximity. You scoot back in a little closer, safely preserving in your memory the tiny noise of shock Moon makes so that you can reflect on it later.

You take a deep breath in, and your curiosity momentarily beats out your fidgety nerves.

“Hang on. Is that… cologne?” you mutter, inhaling another whiff to confirm before leaning back, stunned at your findings. “Did you put on cologne tonight?”

Moon shifts again. Seems you’re not the only one feeling fidgety.

“Why do you ask?” he hedges cautiously, black pupils shifting, and you almost think he sounds defensive until his hand leaves your cheek. His fingers disappear into the insides of his coat, rummaging for something out of your view until he then pulls out—to your complete and incredulous astonishment—a can of WD-40.

He gives it a tiny shake.

“Did you want to use some too?”

In all your daydreams, there were a few things you had imagined happening right after you kissed Moon. Some gentle words. A hug, maybe. In the more risqué scenarios, an inability to breathe as he kissed you senseless again and again. All of those had seemed like viable options on the table of your secret hypotheses.

This, though. This was definitely not one of them, and you are baffled. You refuse to believe he just happened to have that can on him out of complete coincidence. It’s purely inconceivable.

You have to tell him as much.

“You have not been carrying that around all day just for the sake of making that joke.”

Moon’s faceplate rotates several degrees. He squints at you suspiciously. Contemplates the deep meaning of the universe, judging by how long he stays silent. Then, he casually hits you with a bombshell.

“You seem like you could use it.”

Your jaw scrapes the floor.

“Excuse me?! Are you implying that I smell?”

“…‘Implying’ is a rather interesting word choice.”

“Moon!”

Any reservations you might have had are banished by the lurching urge to snatch his beloved little hat from his bald little head and chuck it outside. His self-satisifed aura tells you he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

Before you can think of some wisecrack to put the cretin back in his place, Moon smoothly clarifies, “You smell nice. You always do, actually. It’s light and sweet. Pleasant.” He gently pokes the can’s nozzle against your shoulder. “Just like you.”

You’re left speechless for the second time in as many seconds. Your brain is struggling to keep up with the rapid-fire changes, so you sit there useless for a few moments while trying to think of what to say. 

It’s a little unexpected, is all.

Moon appears to be none the worse for wear. He enjoys your surprise for a bit more and then continues on.

“That’s why I put on something nice-smelling too. Or at least what seems to be popular among you humans. Just wanted to put in a little extra effort. For you. Not the WD-40 though, sorry. That’s only for emergencies.”

While still very unexpected, the reasoning is enough to somewhat loosen your twisted tongue. 

“Emergencies,” you parrot, deadpan.

Moon nods. He surreptitiously sets the can behind you on the floor of the backseat.

After another extended beat, a snort escapes you, your face falls into your hand, and your nostrils flare with your amused exhale. Moon’s fans whir a little louder at the sound, and you sigh again before peeking at him through your fingers.

“You’re a dork, you know that? A buffoon.”

The gremlin is practically vibrating in his seat.

“One might even say I’m a jester.” He waggles his brows. “A sleuth jester.”

“Yeah, one might not.”

Your hand falls from your head. You point an accusatory finger at him.

“Clown behavior. That was terrible and unfunny.”

“Wanna see a magic trick?” he asks with glee.

“No,” you bark out around a loud laugh, and he snickers happily.

You sit together in the warm comfort of the car, and the sense of longing draws you into a contemplative quiet while you watch him, and he does much the same. Your smile is going to wear out from all this use it’s been getting, but you don’t mind at all how effortlessly Moon summons it. He has to do very little to tug that giddiness to the surface. A fact that you’ve taken special notice of more so lately.

His attentiveness is apparent even in his actions, and you want to address that.

“For the record,” you say, more muted than earlier so that Moon hears the subdued seriousness in your voice, “I just want you to know that while you putting in extra effort is really sweet and appreciated, it’s also not strictly necessary. I don’t expect you to go out of your way for me. Getting to spend time with you is more than enough already. You don’t need to change anything about yourself to please me.”

The ruby glow dims a little, and Moon’s hands fiddle with the edge of his coat. You have the sneaking suspicion that if he could blush, his cheeks would be matching his optics right about now.

“I know,” he says back, equally gentle. “Actually, that is part of what endeared you to me. The fact that you don’t care that I’m—that any of us are animatronics and have different functions or needs or even lack of needs that humans do have. But I also know that it’s a custom to put in a little extra effort for someone you care about… someone you might be considering building a relationship with.”

His admission presses down like a leaden weight on your tongue.

“Moon…”

You’re not sure what to follow that with. You wish you could express everything that his heartfelt words are doing to you and how they threaten to stop your heart in its tracks if it keeps missing a beat. 

What you do manage to say, gingerly, is much smaller in comparison than everything you want to express, but it’s a start.

“Thank you for being patient with me.” You swallow the nervous lump in your throat and try to focus past that. Moon waits for you to continue with a silent understanding in his demeanor that speaks volumes. A bit meekly, you say, “I doubt it’s much of a secret anymore how I feel about pursuing that with you, Sun, and Eclipse, huh?”

His hands stop playing with his coat. The crescent splitting the dark sapphire blue and lustrous silver of his faceplate curves an elegant sweep along the metal craftsmanship, and you are reminded not for the first time that Moon is beautiful. In your mind’s eye, you trace an imaginary line around the smooth curls and hidden divots, every slight highlight and blemish and silver scratch. With your imagination taking flight, you are met with a fantasy not unlike the one you’d had of Sun weeks ago. In this one, you sit in Moon’s lap, cradling the lower half of his faceplate in your hands, and your lips find those intricacies to lay a kiss on, to bestow your affection. His own hands paint a delicate dance that rides up the back of your shirt while he flirts with the edges of it.

It’s just as intimate and gripping, and it leaves you shuddering in your seat. As you blink, and the scene dissipates.

You want that. You want it a lot. There’s not a shadow of a doubt in you about that. No shying from the truth now.

All you have to do is take the next step forward into the others’ waiting arms.

Moon doesn’t reply, which you think you appreciate more than a verbal confirmation. He leans away from you back into his seat much to your disappointment and blinks slowly, a languid relaxation to his serene expression. As far as he’s concerned, there’s seemingly no one else in the world now but you and him.

You're tempted. You doubt he’d say no to letting you test the waters with more than just the tips of your toes. But the snow is falling, and you have a party to get to, and you can’t remain frozen forever in this moment. It’s hard to remember your other obligations, but you manage to peel your gaze away.

“We should—” you swallow around your voice crack and clear your throat. “We should probably get going. To the party and all that.”

A rumbling respiration stems from Moon’s metal chassis. The lunar brother reluctantly shakes off his daze, muttering some indiscernible words to himself, and he sets the car back into motion down the street. The hotel isn’t far now, just up ahead and poking through the cloud of dark gray and white whirling outside. Even still, it surprises you when there’s a subtle tug on your wrist.

Moon’s fingers curl around you, slipping one hand free of your cup so that he can grasp it. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you, but you don’t need to. His fierce focus on the wet and slushy roads tells you all.

When he pulls up to the hotel’s overhang, the valet draws up to his side to discuss parking. You tune them out in favor of enjoying the two points of warmth in your hands, one around your coffee and the other ensnared in leather. All too soon, Moon lets go and gets out to let the valet take over.

You gather your things and tighten your coat around your waist. In that very short time frame, your door is then swung open, and Moon gives a debonair dip to hold out a hand to you, his other arm behind his back.

“I believe I offered to escort you in,” he remarks with a tinge of coyness. It seems he’s getting a little of that spark back after your moment together.

Your surprised sound at the unexpected gesture threatens to oust you, but you do your best to keep your cool.

“Such a gentleman,” you croon.

His low brush of laughter makes the cold feel not as strong on your cheeks as he helps you out of the car, the heels of your shoes wobbling on the cobblestone until you find your balance. His eyes reflect the twinkling golden ambience of the city lights around you, warm and delighted. They brighten even more when he offers you his arm and you take it happily, shivering from the cold that cuts through the tailored fabric of your suit pants.

Together, you and Moon enter the skyscraper hotel, and after showing your identification to the personnel and each being given some sort of pass, you are fast directed to the second floor where the holiday party is being held. In the elevator, you can’t seem to bring yourself to let go of Moon’s arm. He doesn’t seem too keen on letting you go either. His other gloved hand rests smoothly atop your own as if to keep you there.

As soon as the elevator doors slide open, a symphony of music and conversation greets you. The noise would normally grate against your ears, but with the calm presence of your friend guiding you into the chaos, your shoulders stay relaxed and your steps sure. Several coworkers take notice of your entrance and nod or raise their glasses in celebratory welcome. You wave to your colleagues, but you search for someone else. Technically two someones, but in this crowd, you know you won’t have to look long.

Moon steers you towards the left of the floor where open double doors lead into the main hub of activity. There’s another check-in desk there, but you and Moon only have to flash your name badges to be waved on in. The room echoes the same noise and bustling activity just outside it, with more of the film and production crew milling about and enjoying themselves. Lifting your head, you get a waft of what can only be delicious food, and you absentmindedly let out a pitiful whine as your stomach grumbles.

Soft snickering from above pulls your attention, and you glare at Moon. His merriment shines wide in his teeth.

“Do we need to take a quick detour?” he asks, reading you in a heartbeat.

You release a pained sigh.

“No, I can wait. Let’s find your brothers first.”

“Already done.” Moon points to a table off in the corner, and sure enough, twin sets of rays, one yellow and the other blue and purple, peek out from the chairs. Both are facing away from you since they’re sitting beside each other, so they haven’t noticed your arrival yet, something your feet seem keen on remedying as they hasten over to your friends. You end up dragging Moon along for the ride, but he’s quick to catch himself and match your speed.

Sun and Eclipse appear in deep conversation, the former chattering enthusiastically while the latter answers more slowly, slouched against the wall next to his chair and a hand shadowing his optics. You can’t help but admire how the sharp suits and ties they wear fit them both very attractively, though Sun’s already discarded his coat on the back of his chair. Eclipse catches sight of you and Moon first, and he gives a little wave that makes you accidentally clench Moon’s hand and causes Sun to spin to see you as well just as you reach them.

“It’s about time you got here!” he exclaims. “We were just about to start dinner without you.”

You tut in skeptical disbelief, saying, “A likely story. You can’t even eat, which… makes me wonder. Why are you holding a glass?”

Sun looks at the flute in his hand then back at you.

“What, this? It’s champagne. One of the waitstaff gave it to me, so now I’m trying to blend in. Is it working?”

From over your shoulder, Moon says, “Considering that you start to act tipsy whenever a certain special someone is around, I’d say you fit right in.”

You dutifully ignore Sun’s indignant squeak because your attention is quickly arrested elsewhere. In one chivalrous motion, Moon slips away from your side to pull out a chair for you. Your head ducks as the temperature of the room inches up a couple of degrees, and it only grows stronger when he helps you shed your heavy coat to drape it over the back of the chair. You murmur your thanks and slide into a seat across from Eclipse, Moon pushing your chair back in. He answers with a hum of acknowledgement and takes the one next to you.

Clearing your throat, you attempt to focus on what he’d just said.

“So who’s the special someone?”

Eclipse snorts loudly, and you tilt your head at him, confused. Sun rubs a hand over his optics with a groan. You can hear his internal fans kick on from over here.

The brother sitting next to you is the only one to take pity on you, but his amusement could be classified as tangible.

“I was referring to you, sweetness.”

“Oh.” Your mouth might be hanging a little open, but you can’t be blamed for it. That wasn’t the answer you were expecting. Actually, there are a lot of things happening tonight that you weren’t expecting, and you have a sneaking suspicion they’d be obvious to literally anyone else. “I hadn’t, ah, noticed.”

“Really?” Moon’s voice is dry, intoning more of a statement than a question.

“Don’t be rude,” Sun chastises Moon, but you think that might be because he’s just still embarrassed from his brother’s remark. “They haven’t eaten yet. You can’t be mean to someone with an empty stomach. It’s bad manners.”

Eclipse squints at him.

“How is that considered bad manners, but not the whole being mean part in general?”

“Because I don’t want to exempt myself from being allowed to get on the nerves of my big brother.” Sun turns back to Moon. “Stop kicking me under the table.”

“Move your damn big feet then,” Moon fires back, slumping deliberately in his seat.

The table shudders with a jarring bang, and you carefully tuck your legs close to your chair to avoid catching any crossfire of the sudden battle happening under the white tablecloth. You share a knowing look with Eclipse, and the dazed tiredness in his gaze makes you smile.

He sighs.

“Did you have a safe drive here?”

Was Moon a safe driver for once, is what he’s really asking. You rest your chin in your hand and lean forward.

“It was a nice, smooth ride,” you muse, fingers curling around your coffee cup. “My chauffeur knew some tricks that made the trip seem to go by so much faster. Feels like we got here in no time at all.”

Eclipse sighs and briefly closes his eyes as if calling upon divine intervention. You think if he had an actual nose, he’d be pinching the bridge of it.

“How many red lights did he run?”

“None,” Moon says, rejoining the conversation as if he and Sun weren’t just engaged in a slapdash battle of footsie. “I take care of my passengers and ensure their safety at all costs.”

“Past experience and numerous police tickets say otherwise,” Eclipse returns wryly.

Moon’s grin sharpens.

“Performance is based on tips.”

Pupils as black as midnight peer out once more, flicking between you and Moon in confusion before settling on you.

“And did you… tip him?”

You give Eclipse a conspiratorial wink.

“I held his hand while he drove us here.”

“Mercy.” Sun recoils, absolutely appalled. “You risked him driving with only one hand on the wheel, and in this weather? Are you perhaps feeling unwell?”

“If you try to suggest putting your fingers in my mouth again, we’re gonna have a problem, and that’s a threat.” You point at Sun for emphasis, and he pretends you’re holding him at gunpoint, his hands flying up in a pacifying manner. One of your eyes squeezes shut, and you mime shooting, which makes him slump back dramatically in his seat like you got him square in the chest. You shake your head, lips twitching upward while Sun straightens again. “I’m not sick, but I am hungry. Actually, I think I’m gonna go grab some food before it’s all gone.”

“Allow me,” Eclipse says, and it’s not a question. He rises to his feet.

You consider getting up anyways just for the principle of the matter, but a single finger pointing at you to sit back down is enough to have you settling in your chair with a fake pout.

While buttoning his suit coat with one hand, he asks, “Anything you’re particularly in the mood for?”

You consider for a moment.

“Mm, no, I trust your judgment. You probably know my tastebuds better than I do at this point.”

An emotion passes across Eclipse’s dark faceplate, something that makes your skin prickle at the sudden knifelike quality to it. Instead of voicing whatever he’s thinking, he just spins his rays and returns your wink from earlier. 

“I’ll be back with a plate.”

He saunters away, politely dodging groups of people and conversations as he makes his way towards the mouthwatering smell of food. You track him for a little while as you nurse your coffee until you’re brought back to the present at your table. Sun and Moon are being unusually quiet, and both are staring at you.

“What?” you say after a pause.

Sun’s smile normally warms you to the soul, but there are times when it sends you into fight or flight mode, just like Eclipse’s. In fact, all three of the brothers share that uncanny ability, and it’s no less disarming whenever it’s aimed at you. The meaning behind the near-predatory flash of teeth can operate anywhere on the scale of danger, and depending on Sun’s mood, it can quickly tip over into territory you want to avoid.

His rays blur in one direction then the other. 

“You have a way with words, precious.”

“…Thanks. I think.”

You don’t know if that was meant to be a compliment, but you’ll take it as one anyways.

Sun doesn’t say either way, but the deep blue of his pupils are cutting. It’s offset by the rather distracting way he’s swirling his champagne around in the flute like it’s a glass of wine. You’re not exactly sure why he’s doing that, but you are impressed at how not a single drop of liquid spills over the top despite being full.

A couple of minutes tick by as you simply relax and chat with the brothers while sipping your drink. It’s not long until restlessness begins digging in, however, and you give a cursory glance around the room and tap your fingers on the table.

“So what’re your plans after this?”

The question is barely out in the open before Moon answers with a sarcastic, “Going home and getting absolutely plastered.”

Apathy ricochets off you and Sun.

“They should make a park for people like you.” Sun tips his glass at his brother. “An unamusement park.”

“Hilarious.”

“No, it’d be the opposite of that.”

“That’s just Wall Street, Sun,” you say around a yawn, and Sun somehow makes a noise like he’s clicking a tongue he doesn’t have. You don’t question it.

Moon hmphs and crosses his arms like a child. You decide it’s best not to tell him that it only endears him to you even more.

“You do have a bit of a dry personality when it comes to acting,” you say, reaching up to scratch your chin in contemplation. When Moon’s faceplate swivels at you, utterly dumbfounded, you quickly add, “Not that that’s a bad thing! It’s just different from what is more common nowadays. That’s probably why you and Sun complement each other so well too. In fact, I think you would have been great in a show like Dragnet, Detective Moon.”

“No, don’t get him started—” Sun begins in a petulant whine, but it’s too late.

Moon’s red optics widen a fraction, and he suddenly gets a gleam in them, like he just got hit with inspiration. His metal fingers tug the brim of his hat so low that only the light of crimson shines from the shadow. Then his hands make quick work of loosening the knot of his tie just enough that it sits slightly askew. He squints across the table at the wall, staring at nothing with such intensity that it’s like he’s scrutinizing something a great distance away. His shoulders pull back, while he mimes takes a heavy drag of a smoking cigar.

Finally, to tie the charade together into a neat bow, he says in a very husky, deadpan voice that cracks with static, “Just the facts, ma’am.”

Sun’s eyes roll so hard, they could fall out of his head. You grin wide. In your peripheral, you think you see dark rays approaching your table. 

“It’s almost like he does it effortlessly,” you joke playfully.

“That’s because there is no effort put into it,” Sun says, exasperated. “He’s not acting. Monotone is his personality.”

A sneer breaks Moon’s act, and he spins his head around in a complete circle to taunt his brother. Defying all physics, his hat remains squarely on all the while. 

“Sun’s jealous because he knows if this were a different show, he’d be relegated to sidekick status.”

As Moon’s speaking, Eclipse returns, full plate in hand. He sets it down in front of you, to which you thank him, picking up the silverware next to you. His rays give a little wiggle in return, and he melts back into his seat with a grunt, propping his elbow back on the table and resting his head on his hand.

“I think being a main character has gotten to your head,” Sun returns snippily. There’s an exaggeration to his voice and haughty head tilt that tells you he’s just as much bantering along with Moon. The swirling of his drink gets more aggressive. “We’ll see how well that works out for you. Maybe this will be the start of my villain arc, and I’ll secretly become the big bad of the story with a mafia to my name.”

“Ugh, please do,” Eclipse groans from where he lounges, dragging his hand down his faceplate. “I’m tired of having to be mean.”

That snags your attention. You shuffle a bite of what might be teriyaki chicken onto your tongue and chew thoughtfully.

Holding your hand in front of your mouth as you munch so that you don’t endure another lecture from Sun, you say, a bit muffled, “I really should find the time to sit in on one of your classes soon. I wanna hear all of your secrets to playing the big bad villain.”

Eclipse’s chuckle flows on a deep wave that buzzes in his chest and warms yours, making your own cheeks hurt, both from the large bite of food you’re chewing and from how you beam at fostering such a sound. His low-lidded black eyes slide over to you, peering out from under his hand.

“That’s easy,” he says. “Anytime I have to act angry, I just think about these two idiots and the shit they make me put up with.”

Sun’s visage turns affronted.

“Language! And what exactly do you mean by that anyways?”

“He certainly couldn’t be referring to all the times we’ve pranked him,” Moon retorts, pretending to examine his nonexistent nails.

You nod sagely in agreement.

“Or the times you’ve tried to sabotage his shoots by distracting him.”

“Or how often we customize his wardrobe for fun.”

“And there was also that time you hid his car keys in a jello mold.”

Moon brightens at that one like you’ve made him recall a fond memory.

Sun leans back in his seat and bends an arm over the back of it. His frown slants sideways.

“Well, when you say it like that, it makes us sound bad.”

You twirl your fork on your plate and share a look with the animatronic from across the table.

“I wonder why.”

Your group laughs then along with one supremely ragged sigh from Eclipse, stirring up a decent amount of noise in the already loud room. The conversation continues much the same, with the three brothers taking cracks at each other while you watch the show and scarf down your dinner. It’s by the time that your plate is scraped clean and you’re sipping on the cold leftovers of the coffee Moon got you that a new presence is drawn in by the chatter in your small corner. You don’t immediately notice them until they speak up.

“Why am I not surprised to see you four all cozying up together in your own little area?” a calm voice addresses your table.

You glance up and find a much too complacent smirk staring you down. 

Sun takes a gander at your table’s new visitor and acquires an awfully mischievous glint.

“Uh oh. Security breach! Someone better let staff know that the Loch Ness Monster has gotten out of containment again.”

Like clockwork, Vanessa’s eyes narrow, and she places her hands on her hips, lips pursing.

“That nickname hasn’t been funny in all the ten other times you’ve used it.”

“Au contraire, little fish. It ages like a fine wine.”

Rolling her eyes at the lighthearted taunt from the jesting animatronic, she turns back to you.

“So when’s the wedding?” she presses, apparently deciding to return fire with fire.

A scoff trickles out, and you consider diving into a lengthy, not at all defensive rant about how the rumors your coworkers love circulating are just that: rumors. Just because you’ve decided you want to be with the celestial animatronics doesn’t mean you’ve all had a conversation about making that public yet, if ever.

But then Moon decides that now is apparently the best time to slide his arm behind you and tuck it over your shoulders, and you’re left choking down your own rebuttal because he just threw it in the mud in one shove.

Vanessa doesn’t smile often. She looks like a damn cat that caught a canary now.

On reflex, as if you can salvage your dying dignity, you say, “We’re not dating, Ness.”

Technically not yet since you still need to have a chat with Sun privately and then discuss with all three of them to make sure you’re on the same page. But you don’t need to clarify that.

“Yeah, Nessie,” Moon adds, dutifully ignoring Vanessa’s immediate grimace at her other equally despised nickname. Really, though, he needs to stop talking all at once. “Can’t you see we’re all just hanging out like a couple of buddy ol’ pals?”

“Not helping, Moon,” you half-heartedly lament, trying to formulate a protest, but the blonde-haired woman has already taken the bait.

She lifts a brow.

“If this is how you treat your ‘friends,’” she says, actually pausing to make the air quotes, “then I’m glad we never became more than associates.”

“Aw, there’s no need to be so pessimistic,” Sun drawls with a heavy inflection, sweet like molasses. He reclines in his chair, crossing his legs. “Just because we never had a spark between us doesn’t mean there aren't still plenty of fish in the sea. Or lake, I should say. The show’s not over yet.”

“It’s about to end prematurely if you keep talking like that,” Vanessa shoots back without dropping the flatness in her tone one iota.

Sun’s smirk is all dangerous edges, and his rays twirl flirtatiously.

The display and banter is nothing out of the ordinary between those three. Though she may deny they’re friends, Vanessa has always gotten along well with all of the brothers, which is probably another reason you’ve also gotten along well with her. She’s been in the acting business longer than you have, and instead of trying to show you how things are done, in the beginning, she watched and noted your own technique. Only after you asked her for her advice did she offer it. She’s brought a professionalism to the show that is greatly needed, yet she still keeps an open mind to how everyone else does their own work.

For that, she’s earned a lot of respect from you. It took only a little nudging to get her to warm up to your friend group. The feigned disinterest is now just part of the usual routine, and you know for a fact that no one except Moon and Sun have gotten her to laugh aloud. 

You owe a lot to the show you’ve all worked on together for the friendships alone that you’ve gotten through it.

“Have you been enjoying the party?” You decide to reroute the conversation before an all out war can break out in the form of snappy comebacks.

Vanessa groans.

“I could be relaxing in bed with a hot cup of tea. In fact, I should be relaxing in bed with a hot cup of tea. But for some godforsaken reason, I made the poor choice to come here instead.”

“Because you like us,” Moon singsongs, circling a finger along the white tablecloth.

Vanessa deigns to ignore that. Everyone knows he’s right, but it’ll be a cold day in hell before she ever agrees with him.

She addresses you instead.

“I see they’ve been practicing their terrible pick-up lines. I’m sorry you had to be the unfortunate one and settle for scraping the bottom of the barrel, unlike the rest of us.”

“Wow,” Sun huffs, dry as sandpaper.

“Deserved,” Eclipse chips in, just as dry but no less entertained at the spectacle unfolding.

“Like I said,” you say, not concealing your amusement at Vanessa’s persistence, “we’re not an item yet, so stop trying to set us up.”

“Yeah, I really don’t think you need my help with that,” she returns far too smoothly.

Your jaw goes slack, but Vanessa steamrolls right over your scandalized shock as usual.

“Anyways, I came over to fetch you for a second if you can spare one from your boyfriends. Freddy is asking for you.”

“Oh!” At that, you glance around in search of the bear animatronic, purposefully ignoring that last small dig.

With his big, hulking frame, it doesn’t take long to spot Freddy. He’s chatting with a few others in a semi-circle. As expected, you catch the slightest glimpse of Gregory next to him, though the poor kid seems miserable in his suit and tie. You can more than relate and have to stifle a small chuckle at his pout.

You turn back to your table and ease out of your chair onto stiff heels and creaking joints. Oof, that’s definitely the sound of your knees going snap, crackle, and pop.

“I’ll be right back. Save my seat?”

Moon blinks at it. Then back at you.

“Why? Is it dying?”

Before you can give back a snarky reply, Sun tacks on with faux concern, “Hey, is your fridge running?”

You share a wordless, pointed look with Vanessa and decide it’s best to not indulge them before they can get on a roll because once they start egging each other on, there’s no stop in sight.

Eclipse nods at you.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep them in line while you’re gone.”

The twin snide leers in response tell you otherwise, but you’ll let him deal with that. His problem now. As you turn, you get a glimpse of Moon hunkering in close to his brothers with an excited sharpness in his movement.

Vanessa doesn’t have to say a word while you walk beside her. You just take her exasperation in stride because you know you don’t have a good rebuttal ready. She ends up sticking with you all the way to Freddy’s group, giving you the tiny impression that she’s been requested to “chaperone” you from one side of the room to the next.

As you’re weaving around the many groups of friendly faces and cheery waves, greeting them back with as much enthusiasm, you catch sight of Vanessa’s tie and nearly do a double-take. On a simple black background is a tiny print of many rabbits, with a myriad of bow ties, hats, and ribbons. It’s so fitting, you can’t not say something.

“I like the tie,” you snicker.

She follows where you gesture with a hand. It could just be the light in the room, but you swear you see a hint of mirth from her at you noticing.

“I thought it would be funny,” she says in an unfazed tone that makes your breath hitch around another sharp snort.

A lot of your coworkers find Vanessa to be standoffish. They don’t know what they’re missing because at her heart, she is one of the funniest people you’ve come to know. It just took a little to get her to warm up to you, and now, you consider her a great friend. On top of that, she’s incredibly talented to boot. You’re beyond glad that she was cast for her role in the show. That final showdown between you and her still gives you shivers even with all of it being an act.

“It is pretty fitting,” you agree, trying your best to don your best blank façade and failing. “Since it’s the year of the rabbit, after all.”

“Ugh. Now I know you’ve been hanging out exclusively with those three idiots. And what’s worse is I’ve heard that joke at least a hundred times tonight.”

“A hundred and one now, and the night’s still young.” You elbow her tauntingly, and she shies away with a scowl.

Vanessa appears prepared to tell you exactly what she thinks of your terrible jokes, but before she can, your name is called out in a sonorous clap.

You find Freddy eagerly waving you forward, and without a second thought, you’re by his side and being swept into a ferocious hug.

“It’s so good to see you outside of work for a change! I never thought those rascals would let you out of their sights for the holidays.”

A terrible groan threatens to break your throat. 

“Not you too, Freddy,” you bemoan.

“No worries, I’m just pulling your leg.” He lets you go and beams down at you, good mood infectious. “But all jokes aside, I am glad you decided to come out tonight. The party wouldn’t be the same without the star lead.”

You blow off his statements, a little frazzled and more than a little flustered.

“Oh, ease up on them, Frederick. You’ll make the poor thing blush,” joins yet another voice, deep yet muted.

William Afton’s figure is just as imposing even outside of the villainous character he portrays. You don’t know how you missed him in the small circle Freddy’s been chatting up, but his piercing observation of you has you straightening up. He isn’t someone you’ve had a chance to really get to know, but as a more senior actor in the group, he’s posed an intimidating factor in his wealth of experience alone. You’ve seen him in action; he’s incredible.

What’s even more of a delightful surprise is his present company—namely, the small child standing next to him, their hand in his and swinging the pair’s arms happily.

The child is none other than the actor that plays a much younger version of the vigilante, one whom you’ve found to be utterly adorable. They’ve easily won the hearts of the cast and crew, and judging by the way William holds their tiny hand so delicately, they’ve gotten him wrapped around their little finger too. And even if those two weren’t holding hands, you’d already know how close they’ve gotten in the time they’ve worked together because of all the little anecdotes that’ve been passed around the grapevine about them becoming an unlikely pair of friends. Their bond reminds you of a paternal relationship. William is the one who gave them the beloved nickname Ribbon, thanks to the bright spool of red they’ve taken to tying in their hair upon realizing it was also part of your costume. It’s a reminder that they look up to you, for whatever reason that makes you hyper aware of everything you say or do around them. You’re no role model, but you’ll do your best to be one for Ribbon if that’s what they need.

As for the nickname, you’re sure it was meant to be a silly, one-time thing. But then others caught wind of it, and now it’s just kind of stuck. The little child actor couldn’t be more thrilled at getting their own moniker and almost downright refuses to respond to anything else.

They catch you watching and give a jaunty wiggle of the fingers of their free hand—a wave you can’t help but return. The kid bounces on their toes, pleased.

“It’s about time you came over and said hello,” quips a sarcastic tone that you recognize in a heartbeat.

You peer around Freddy.

“Hey, kiddo. How’s tricks?”

Gregory pulls a sour grimace.

“Don’t call me that.”

“He doesn’t like being called a kid,” Ribbon helpfully explains. They light up impishly. “It’s a sore spot.”

“It’s not a—” Gregory stops and forces himself to simmer down, rolling his eyes. “I’m not that young.”

“And I’m sure they mean nothing by it,” Freddy smooths over, likely sensing the argument before it can begin. “But even still, there’s nothing wrong with being a child! Why, you have gotten to experience something that most other kids your age have only ever seen on TV. That’s something to be proud of.”

“My parents let me skip school,” Ribbon brags when Gregory just grumbles.

You click your tongue sharply at that.

“They’d better not be! Else I’m gonna have some very strong words with them, dumpling.”

That has the tot giggling, and William shakes his head. 

“No need, I already checked. They’re not missing out on school. I actually had the chance to meet their parents sometime ago.” He pauses to subtly indicate to a couple who aren’t too far away, chatting with a few people you vaguely recognize. Vanessa is also talking with them, and you wonder when she snuck away from your side.

William continues, “They informed me that any education outside of school hours is being handled at home or with tutors. And in fact, this little one brought their math homework to the set last month and showed me just how quickly they’re learning.”

The two share a small glance. It’s easy to see the pride in William’s features.

Then Ribbon turns to you.

They cup a hand over their mouth and loudly whisper, “He didn’t know the answers to some of the questions, so I had to show him how.”

You share a conspiratorial gasp.

“No kidding? Then I guess it’s a good thing you’re here to help these grownups learn, huh?”

A toothy grin flashes, and they nod excitedly. It’s then you notice the giant red silk in their braid, tied like a bow. The ends curl and frame their face cutely. You think you might even hear the chime of a bell.

Guess they’re going all out on their outfit tonight. Seeing them mimic your vigilante costume even outside of work grants you a deep fulfillment that runs through your chest. You hope that wherever they end up afterwards, it’ll be overflowing with only good, kind people. And hopefully their parents will preserve their childhood as much as possible too.

Anyways,” you say, turning and regaining Gregory’s attention, “Sorry, bud. Freddy’s right that I didn’t mean anything by it, but I’ll make sure to not call you that from now on.”

Gregory shrugs, crosses his arms, then uncrosses them like he’s not sure how to react. More than likely, he just feels put on the spot.

He chews on a response for a bit before he goes with, “It’s fine if you do it, I guess. Just don’t make it a habit, or else I’ll start calling you old.”

You feign shocked betrayal.

“How dare you? I’ll have you know that I’m always at my prime.” But then, unable to resist playing along, you pretend to feebly sway on your feet and place a hand to your chest, while the other reaches behind and presses at your spine, and you hunch over. “Oh, but your words—they cut so deep! I can feel them, seeping into my poor mortal bones, cursing me with old age. Agh, my back! It’s breaking!”

Like you’d expected, Gregory can’t quite hide his amusement at your shenanigans, and though he gives a valiant effort, his smirk is strong across his face.

“You’re such a theater kid,” he mocks.

You straighten with a frown.

“Oh, that’s real rich coming from you, shorty. Them’s fightin’ words.”

The sardonic, gloating image of the other threatens to start a semi-hostile bickering match between you and him. Fortunately or unfortunately for Gregory, Freddy intervenes like the paternalistic figure he’s come to embody.

“Alright, that’s enough. No need to start verbally swinging. I swear, you’re like a couple of cats and dogs sniping at each other any chance you get.”

Very maturely, you jab an accusatory finger at Gregory and retort, “Don’t look at me. He started it.”

The bear animatronic gives you a heavily imploring look. Your aura of innocence doesn’t seem to be swaying him in the slightest. Pity.

“You’re just mad that I’m right,” the kid taunts.

“Gregory,” Freddy warns, rounding on him and sounding for all intents and purposes like a disappointed parent.

You puff up your cheeks, readying another witty comeback on your tongue, but Freddy must have some sort of sixth sense because he shoots you another damning look that halts the friendly fire in its tracks. A silent standoff occurs between you, him, and the spunky little brat who thinks he’s winning, judging by the proud uptilt of his chin and his haughtily lifted brow. Which, to be fair, he’s not wrong in believing that, but details.

“To completely change the subject,” Freddy says before you can research if it’s legal to throw hands with a kid in self-defense, “I called you over here because I wanted to tell you something while I have the chance. And to start with, I’m sure many others have said the same thing to you already, but I want you to know it’s been a pleasure getting to watch you work throughout filming.”

One of his hands settles on your shoulder and stills you entirely, though you certainly weren’t expecting that last remark either. He makes sure he has your full attention before he keeps talking.

“I think I can speak for everyone here when I say that you’ve brought a uniqueness to the show. There is something to be noted about the good nature you carry into every circumstance, and as such, I’m grateful our paths were able to cross because of it. You have heart, and that shines well in your role. I believe the success we’ve had would not have been so easily attainable without you as the vigilante.”

In just a few short sentences, Freddy manages to strike down your smile and hollow you out. You stare in dumbstruck fashion at the bear animatronic. The heartfelt honesty wasn’t something you were expecting or ready for, and it cuts through your defenses and threatens to crumple you like a napkin.

“Freddy,” you hesitantly start, growing uncomfortable, “that’s really sweet and all, but I’m not—”

He gently interrupts you by briefly holding up a hand. You fall quiet.

“Please, let me finish being sentimental and overbearing while I still have you here, and then I’ll let you get back to the party. Since we’ve begun working together, I haven’t quite had an opportunity to tell you this, but I think you are an extraordinary individual and a talented actor. More importantly, however, I know that some of our… shall we say chattier team members have been spreading rumors. You probably know exactly what I’m referring to, so I’ll refrain from going into any details in case there are other listening ears nearby.”

He pauses just long enough to seemingly collect his thoughts. The unexpected direction of this conversation has your heart immediately jolting in your chest and pounding erratically, fearful of what he might say after hearing all of the gossip. Despite the sudden urge to turn tail and run, you hold back the panic that looms just on the edges of your peripheral. It waits to descend, circling like a hawk, and you push it back with an obstinate force. 

You will wait to hear him out first, though you pray that he hasn’t called you over to condemn your relationships with the celestial brothers.

Perhaps your stone-faced silence is a dead giveaway, or maybe the stiffness in your jaw is actually a trembling line that betrays your worry. Either way, Freddy takes a good, long look at you, and it’s then that his expression changes. Determination or certainty or something close straightens his shoulders and eases his trepidation away.

He continues in a much more private murmur, for your ears alone.

“My point is, in spite of those rumors, I can’t help but notice how increasingly happy you’ve become, even in this small timespan. You seem brighter than before. Lighter on your feet. I know I didn’t meet you prior to us working alongside each other, so I hope you’ll forgive me if I’m sounding presumptuous here because that truly isn’t my intent.” When his smile reappears, it’s like a ray of sunshine shining proudly upon you. His tone overflows with his benevolence as he finishes, softer still, “I just want to say that whatever that happiness is and whomever it might be with—if that is indeed the case—I hope it is something that works out for you. And I hope you pursue it if it does. Because like many others here, you deserve to have good things in your life too. So don’t ever let anyone convince you otherwise, no matter what they may say or believe.”

A friendly or perhaps comforting squeeze grips your shoulder. The following pause is loud.

Having said his piece, Freddy waits patiently for you to respond or maybe just to mull over what he said. Or to do anything at all instead of just gape at him.

Something slips into your eye. Both of them, funnily enough. You wait a moment too long to blink the odd sensation away, and it starts to burn.

Freddy notices, because of course he does, and his brow furrows.

“I’m sorry. It seems I’ve made you upset by what I said.”

You wave off his concern.

“No, no, I’m fine, really,” you lie very convincingly. “Don’t worry, it’s fine. It’s okay. I mean, I’m just—”

You bite your tongue to stop the immediate urge to deflect. You don’t like to think of yourself as overly emotional. Your soul lies in your work, and that’s where your emotions shine. You also know that while Freddy’s praise is flattering, it’s far from true. There are so many talented, gifted people working on this production. Anything you do is but a speck in the grand scheme of things, and a great deal of other people deserve credit far more than you do.

Still, it’s a palpable relief to hear what he said and to know that you have someone supportive in your corner. It touches you deeply because while it’s one thing to be recognized for your work by someone like him, it is a whole new matter to hear an outsider’s approval of the relationships you’ve been brewing over restlessly. Freddy is a role model—an inspiration—to the team. In many ways, he’s become a sort of parental figure that many look up to, you included. Having your silly human heart’s desires be acknowledged and embraced by him means a lot to you more than any kind of praise. A whole lot.

So much so that it stabs right to the center of all the inner turmoil that’s been burgeoning inside you without an outlet, and your ears feel hot and your throat tight. 

You attempt to just laugh it off, sounding a bit uneven and watery. 

“Sorry. I just wasn’t expecting you to say that,” you say at last, and the easygoing tone you were shooting for kind of falls flat.

You’re exactly like he said: happier and lighter. Have been for weeks—months—now. But especially recently. Just took you a little longer than most to notice.

You’re certain though about what you want. You don’t feel like you need to test the waters anymore. Originally, you’d been alarmed at jumping into three relationships headfirst without any thought, but truth is, you were thinking of it long beforehand. You just refused to see it for what it was, the longing for something more than friendship. This isn’t your emotions getting confused from what you act out in front of a camera, like you’d originally feared.

The teasing and rumors are things you’ve gotten used to over time. But what Freddy said goes farther than that, and it’s beyond refreshing to hear someone else’s perspective confirm what your intuition has been shouting from the start.

As you wipe your eyes with a hand, you say only a little shakily, “Thank you. That means a lot, coming from you. I think I needed to hear that more than you realize.” You take a moment to collect yourself, swallowing hard and letting the immense relief settle your nerves.

You’re here. It’s okay. It will be more than okay, but at least you know that you have people in your corner who genuinely care. You weren’t exactly ready for the emotional rollercoaster you just rode, but you’re thankful nonetheless. It feels good to not be alone like you’d once thought. It feels incredible.

As the racing in your chest calms back down, the levelheadedness returns. Freddy is still waiting like a worried spectator, so you decide to reassure him in the best way you know how.

Your smile is small but facetious.

“You know, it’s a good thing you approached me about this. Here I was, all worried you’d turn me down, but I’m so glad you finally saw the light and decided to confess your undying love for me before the clock strikes midnight.”

For an animatronic, Freddy does a fantastic job of blanching.

“Oh! No, that’s not… Ah, I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding.”

He panics to the point his voicebox starts to stutter as he backtracks. William steps in to rescue him.

“They’re joking, Frederick. They know you’re not the one who’s madly fallen for them.” His eyes slide over to you. “Which those three have, by the way.”

You spread your arms in disbelief, neck burning.

“Geez, did everyone else figure out my love life before me or something?”

“Only a little.” The man smirks, something that is extremely hard not to react to when it’s so unlike him.

“What’s a love life?” Ribbon innocently pipes up.

Gregory replies, “Tch, don’t ask them because they clearly don’t know.”

Freddy pats the top of the boy’s head.

“None of that now. Be nice. They can work things out in their own time. There’s no rush.”

You don’t have the heart to tell Freddy that that is exactly what you’ve been worrying over. So you instead peer back over to your table, gnawing on your lip as you think.

There’s not a clear view of them, but you can see Sun’s rays spinning wide as he converses with his brothers and a few others who have swung by to chat, standing beside the table. You wonder what they’re all talking about and suffocate the desire to go back over there. Just because you want to be with them doesn’t mean you have to act like some lovesick puppy.

As you’re weighing the pros and cons of making up some very transparent excuse to slip away from your group and return to the boys, a discordant echo of feedback rings through the crowd, making everyone wince.

“Sorry!” a distant voice yells, and then there’s distinct tapping on a microphone. “Test, test, testing, is this thing on now? I guess it is after that little noise.”

Everyone turns to the source, and you see the executive producer on a raised platform with a mic, two large projector screens on the wall behind him. Once he’s got the mic in working order, he requests everyone to take their seats, and you try to hide your elation at being dismissed from social convention. You make sure to wish the others a farewell and happy new year in case you don’t get to see them again later that night, giving an especially grateful squeeze to Freddy’s arm, and then you hustle your way back to three shining faces.

In the end, Moon proves to have been a valiant defender of your chair after all, and you reclaim the spot next to him while the man who organized the event launches into a lengthy speech of thank yous and cheers to the future progress of the show. 

The distraction allows you a private moment to reflect on what just transpired and ease back into a calmer state. However, when you wipe your eyes a final time to stop any meddlesome tears in their tracks, your actions do not go unnoticed like you’d hoped.

Moon turns to you and leans in close so that he can whisper.

“Are you alright?” His concern is a selfless gesture that touches you deeply, like he’s ready to jump at a moment’s notice for your sake.

Your eyes glisten a little more at the sweet thoughtfulness.

“I’m fine. Promise.” At his persisting worry, you gently clarify, “It’s nothing bad. I’m just… really, really happy.”

Your heart leaps with your words, confirming the veracity of them.

Surprise rounds off the lines of disquiet and inclines the edges of his mouth. Moon’s steady regard holds unmistakable compassion.

“Good, I’m glad. Still, let me know if you need anything, and I’ll take care of it.”

You’re not at your verbal best right now, so you nod, and he shifts back to the speaker. You think that’s that, but then one of his hands seeks out and rests on the top of your lap, palm up. An offering. The questioning flash of red is only just visible at this angle. 

You try to not let your sentimentality show so plainly to the room from you beaming as you slip your hand into his. It feels like you’re shaking with relief and euphoria.

From there, it’s easier to focus on the speech. The speaker informs the party that they are welcome to stay till midnight to watch the fireworks that the city will be setting off across the harbor. The hotel is waterfront, meaning the room’s windows facing the harbor will provide an exceptional view of the night sky. After that, the hotel has requested that everyone vacate the event room no later than one in the morning if they don’t have a reservation to stay and to please abide by the quiet hours rule. The fact that your group is even being allowed to hang around that late makes you wonder just how much money was slipped under the table to cover that cost.

You critically eye the waitstaff still handing out glasses of alcohol. It will be a miracle if there isn’t a single incident resulting in someone getting kicked out, and you know you don’t want to be around when that happens.

After the speech, a video is played on the screens commemorating months’ worth of silly moments and fun memories filmed both during shoots and in the lulls between. You end up laughing along with the others at the antics and bloopers caught on video, and even one of Sun and Moon’s pranks makes it on the screen. It’s a heartwarming stroll down memory lane that is bittersweet and a reminder that the show is nearing its finale.

After the video ends, the executive producer steps down from his stage, once more thanking everyone for their hard work and encouraging them all to finish off the plentiful catering leftovers. The room explodes into applause and some whistles, and you join in with the ones sitting next to you. It’s been a hard journey with many late nights and abysmally early mornings, but you’re close to the end. You’ll miss the familiar people you’ve come to enjoy seeing every day and the kindness of the teams you got to work with. One thing is for certain: Your phone is positively bursting with contacts from many, many people you’ve met just through working on this show. You hope that your future job will connect you with some of them again face to face when all is said and done.

Mind abuzz with thoughts of where you’ll end up next, you whittle away the hours yet again with your favorite company. At one point, Sun hands off his flute of champagne to a passerby with superfluous reassurances that he’s done “absolutely nothing to it!” He doesn’t sound trustworthy at all, but when he gives you a universally austere wink, it becomes obvious he’s just pulling the other person’s leg.

At some point, someone pulls out an honest-to-God Clue board game from who knows where, and you end up on a three-person team with Moon and Sun—much to the chanting of your friends and coworkers—to solve the mystery and take down your competitors. Eclipse pairs with Gregory and an actor who played as one of his goons. Becker, you think his name is.

A mix of people from other departments, from the sound crew to the camera crew to the stunt performers and everyone in between, get involved too, whether it’s to team up or just spectate like this is the greatest new sport. In the end, the result is a truly raucous round that leads to your team’s victory. High fives and gloating abound, but that’s quickly stampeded when you, Moon, and Sun lose the next round. After that, you decide to let other people have a turn, and you mingle with those you haven’t had a chance to chat with in a long while. What makes it an even better experience is that throughout the socializing, you find yourself with a tail or two or three. They let you reach out first—a hand on their backs or elbows—which leads to them returning the favor so that you’re in constant contact with at least one. It doesn’t escape your notice that doing this means you’ll receive more raised eyebrows and probably stir up the pot of gossip.

But unlike before, that thought doesn’t really bother you as much.

You know why.

As the clock ticks closer to midnight, the party dwindles in size. Some depart to go celebrate the new year with family; others leave to follow the call of their beds. You catch one more quick interaction with Ribbon, and they give you a big hug that you return just as tightly. Their little arms threaten to bruise your bones, and it only makes your fondness for them soar. Their parents also bid you goodbye, sharing grateful waves at you, and you watch as they lead their kid to the hotel’s elevator, Ribbon squeezing both their hands and skipping between them.

Not an ounce of tiredness in that one. You wish you had their energy. The studio couldn’t have picked a better vigilante-in-the-making.

Feeling winded yourself, you return to your seat with a drawn-out groan. While you were away, Sun and Moon swapped places. Judging by the delighted tapping of Sun’s fingers on the table and Moon’s unhappy glower, it wasn’t a unanimous decision.

It’s a mere fifteen minutes to midnight now. And that’s when Eclipse returns to his seat and decides it’s high time to throw another curveball your way.

“I have a proposition for you,” he slyly says, which has you simultaneously uneasy and intrigued.

“Oh?” 

“Yes, oh?” Sun parrots, with much more skepticism in his tone.

Eclipse grins wryly. In between one blink and the next, he snaps into view a solid black card between his middle and forefinger. The slender card has no meaning to you, at least not until he flicks it a certain way in the light. The embossed letters reflect the ambient glow just enough to be legible, and that’s when you gasp.

“You’re joking,” you breathe, and Eclipse chuckles.

“What? What am I missing?” Sun looks between you and Eclipse and then at the card, but Eclipse tucks it away just as fast.

You lean back in your seat, stunned.

“This hotel has to be booked solid all through the holiday,” you manage to say. “How on earth did you get a key? Did you book a room months ago?”

The eldest brother is obviously enjoying this, both your and Sun’s reactions, unlike Moon who is slowly becoming one with his chair the further he sinks into it, and you can’t find it in yourself to deprive Eclipse of his moment. You weren’t expecting that at all.

He shakes his head and keeps his voice low, like he’s sharing a secret.

“I don’t know if you’ve met him yet, but there’s a man here who I used to work with on a different set years ago. He’s a cameraman, and the bulk of his work is focused on taking candid pictures to be used for promotion. Back when we first met, we both were still graduating past being  labeled as fresh blood in the industry, so we ended up hitting it off. He’s been a good friend of mine ever since.” Long fingers fold together, and Eclipse props his elbows on the table, shadowed metal almost ominous in the light. “That’s all to say that he was invited to tonight’s party as a plus one because his niece is one of the actresses for this series, and they’re rather close. He chose to book a room at this hotel months ago for the event out of convenience.”

Eclipse leans in closer as excitement in his voice builds, and like an infectious pull, you mirror his movement.

“Here’s where it gets interesting,” he simpers. “I overheard that this place has a pool and bar—more specifically, a rooftop pool and bar. Due to the cold weather, the outdoor half of the pool has been closed for winter, but the indoor half has been kept open. And currently, guests are allowed to use their keycards to enjoy a nice swim and some drinks from ten o’clock in the morning to ten o’clock at night. So naturally, when I expressed my interest in accessing the place, my friend gave me one of his spare keys with the exception that I don’t tell anyone where I got it from.”

You're astounded and can see how Eclipse relishes having such a captive audience.

“Kind of failed on that front already,” Moon tacks on blithely. He feigns disinterest, but his gaze is fixed on you as well, assessing.

You hope he isn’t readying to read you your Miranda rights if you so much as suggest an iota of interest in this.

Eclipse, however, only puffs out a synthetic breath at his little brother.

“Anyone who’s a snitch,” he clarifies.

“So what you’re saying is,” you say, still starry-eyed with wonder, “we can sneak up to the rooftop and watch the fireworks from there?”

“Among other things, yes.”

You pause.

“Other things?”

Eclipse doesn’t answer. But his shifty keek at Sun has you feeling on edge.

“Oh!”

You flinch as Sun violently shoots to his feet, chair scraping behind him, and he is just as wide-eyed as you.

“I’m suddenly fully on board with this plan without any dubious behavior whatsoever.” He holds a hand out to you. “Let’s go do some illicit activities.”

You side-eye Moon. Sun does much the same.

“By which I mean technically not illicit at all,” he hastily adds. He wiggles his fingertips at you. “Coming, doll?”

Your hand reaches for his.

“Nothing dubious, huh?”

Sun gently pulls you out of your seat. The animatronic picks up your coat too and drapes it over your shoulders before you can have time to think about it, and the warmth of your coat extends deeper than it normally would. He takes your hand with a stifled sound that is by definition just plain cute. Suspicious or not, you’ll go wherever he leads as long as it means staying by his side. Clearly, the brothers have something planned, especially since Moon hasn’t made a peep where he normally would about anything remotely smelling of unlawful, and you squirm with your own enthusiasm.

“Here.” Eclipse gives Sun the keycard, and while Sun pockets it, you frown in confusion.

“Wait, aren’t you two coming with us?”

At long last, Moon breaks his silence with a benign grin aimed up at you.

“In a minute, starling. Go on up before I change my mind.”

Eclipse tips his head at the elevators.

“We’ll catch up with you shortly. Sunny wants to share something with you first.”

Said animatronic is trembling like a live wire in his bundle of excitement.

“I hope that isn’t what you mean by illicit,” you snark, and you let Sun steer you out of the room with not a second to spare.

“No, no, you won’t find any sort of recreational things on me. I have clean pockets, promise!”

You almost lose your footing, but the other is quick to catch you.

“Thanks.” You pat him appreciatively. “ Also, I wasn’t thinking you had any dirty pockets there, Sunny. But now that you mentioned it… Hm, I might just need to check for myself and thoroughly investigate.”

You watch in bemusement as Sun repeatedly presses the elevator button to summon it. His head snaps to you with some wily scheme dancing inside, his blatant impatience subconsciously pulling you in so that you have to tilt your head back farther to keep him and his lovely rays in sight.

His inner mechanisms click and whir at your closeness. With the hand not holding yours, he taps you on the nose, making you wrinkle it.

“Let’s not get handsy just yet, dear. We haven’t even discussed marriage.”

That earns him a scoff.

“Then color me surprised, snookums, because it sure seems like we’re eloping.”

You lean your weight against his side, confident that he won’t mind, and Sun lets go of your hand to wrap an arm around your shoulders instead. As you’d suspected, he squeezes you like he plans to imprint you there.

One of the two elevators dings upon its arrival, and the second the doors swish open, Sun hustles you inside. His barely restrained frenetic energy has you snickering, to which he lightheartedly swats you. Once he’s pushed the button for the top floor with more aggressive tapping, he spins back around to give you his full attention. His boundless enthusiasm means a need to channel it somewhere, so it’s no surprise when his fingers continue to busy themselves by beginning to undo one of the buttons of his cuffs to roll his sleeve up to his elbow.

“Trust me, you will know when we’re eloping,” he remarks without thought as he’s focused on his task, neatly tucking away fabric and moving on to the next sleeve.

Oh, he makes it too easy for you sometimes. You brace against the wall while letting a flirtatious smirk emerge. It’s impossible not to tease him a little more, not when you’ve got him trapped like this. 

“When we elope, detective?” you echo smugly, pulling a little of your character to the surface. You can’t help it when he walked right into that one.

Sun doesn’t say anything.

Not in the way you’d expected, however. He doesn’t freeze like it was a Freudian slip of the tongue or react with visible panic. No, he doesn’t utter a single word in the aftermath of that little taunt, but he needn’t do so in the way his eyes speak for himself.

Cerulean blue is piercing in low light, you realize. Unwavering as he doesn’t add anything more to confirm or deny your question. You’re playing a losing game of trying not to focus on the bare metal that is revealed as Sun finishes rolling up both his sleeves. Only a beat more of silence has to pass before you realize that you’re the one who’s prey to the sudden intensity of the solitude from the craziness of the night. It’s just you and Sun now and a weighty stillness in the shadow of what you’d thought was an ignorant exchange. Somehow, that has you more uncentered than probably any comeback he could have returned.

Sun’s not saying anything in defense because he doesn’t intend to deny it.

You swallow. Nothing but the vibration of the elevator and its lighthearted music disturbs whatever tension has begun to form. Not unwelcome or even necessarily uncomfortable. But it is noticeable, and you’re becoming extremely aware of everything in the small space, namely the animatronic who’s taking up most of it right in front of you.

Before the tension can get any thicker, the elevator comes to a halt somewhere in its ascent. You and Sun watch as someone, presumably a hotel guest, steps onto the elevator with you, reaches over, and taps a button for a few floors up.

You were wrong; the tension can get thicker, and it is compressing you.

The ride up is painfully silent, made worse by the fact that for whatever reason, Sun does not stop staring at you. You’re just an arm’s reach shy of being cornered against the wall, and apparently, Sun sees no issue with this and how it might look to the unexpected friend who’s joined the circus.

Hardly ten seconds pass, but it feels like an eternity before the other person’s floor is reached. They exit without a word or a glance in your direction, and that’s exactly how you prefer it. Without looking, Sun reaches over and nudges the button to close the doors. They slide shut, and your ride to the top is continued once more with only one animatronic to fill the space and your vision.

Funnily enough, this is the first chance all night that you really get a good view of his outfit, what with him being so close. Since you’re desperate to latch onto anything else, you concentrate on that instead. To your surprise, what you see has you in tickled disbelief.

Blinking, you nod in his direction and say, “Please tell me those suspenders are from your costume.”

Sun glances down at the thick loops of fabric on his person as if he’s seeing them for the first time. Then his grin flashes back up at you, twinkling.

“Do you like them?”

He already knows the answer, cheeky thing.

“As if you even need to ask.” You ignore how his amused leer makes your skin pleasantly tingly. You are, in fact, ignoring a lot of things that him being so close is doing to you. A shiver runs down your back. Which you also ignore. “What I’m more shocked by is how you and Moon seem to be sneaking off with pieces of your outfits and getting away with it.”

Sun shrugs and brushes imaginary lint off his shirt with a hum.

“I needed something special from my costume to wear tonight since I wanted to dress to impress. It was either wear these or my handcuffs.”

“…I think you and I might have different definitions of how to impress.”

The animatronic sighs heavily.

“Yes, I know I should have gone with the handcuffs instead. But why else am I supposed to wear suspenders if not to seductively slide them off for you one at a time?”

As he says this, he reaches up and hooks a finger underneath one of the straps. His air is nothing short of coy, like an idea has just taken shape in his devious mind, and he slowly eases the fabric across his shoulder, flirting with slipping it over the edge. A curled metal digit suggestively rubs the suspender. It would probably have a much greater effect on you if his little show wasn’t currently being backed by cheery elevator music, and that alone has your lips spasmodically twitching.

Sun gives the impression of waggling his brows, rife with an emotion you refuse to label.

“Are you seduced yet?” he croons.

You’re actually on the verge of hysterics after bouncing from that tense moment to now this highly entertaining version of a strip tease, but you’re doing your damndest to keep down the stunned laughter rattling inside your chest. You purse your lips to hold back the tide and then take a second to compose yourself.

“I don’t remember this scene ever being in the script,” you say instead, keenly aware that the elevator is not soundproof nor private. You suddenly wonder if there is a security camera in here and if some poor staff member is seeing all of this, and you almost burst into a guffaw right there.

Sun taps a coquettish finger like he’s shushing you. He can tell how close you are to losing it, and he has no problem chuckling at whatever face you’re making.

“That’s because it’ll be our little secret behind the scenes,” he chirps.

Before you have time to unpack that little remark, the lilting elevator voice declares you’ve reached your destination. You straighten back up when the doors slide apart, a deep exhale blowing past your lips to calm the fluttering in your chest, but Sun doesn’t move just yet.

His hand extends out to you, palm up. A light request and one you don’t have to ponder at all to accept. You’ve noticed that all of the brothers seem to enjoy holding your hand. That’s good, because you enjoy it too.

As the two of you traipse out onto the floor, you’re struck by an intense smell of chlorine. Your lungs expand with the joyous call of swimming pool water, and it’s a small shame that you don’t have a swimsuit on to take a quick dip.

Sun scouts the area with you at his side. Miraculously, the floor appears entirely vacant and ghostly quiet. Couldn’t be because the pool and bar hours have long since passed. Certainly not. There’s a gym up here too, secured off behind glass walls and an entrance that requires keycard access to get in. But that’s not what you’re here for.

“This way.” You lead Sun down a hallway, trusting your nose. 

He’s quiet still, but his steps are no less eager than yours. You wonder what it is he wants to show you and why he needs to show it up here of all places and what on earth was that moment you shared in the elevator because it certainly felt like something. There’s no denying the thrill you get from sneaking in somewhere that’s technically meant only for actual hotel guests and only during certain hours. It makes you remember being a teenager, getting into trouble or always just dancing outside of it with someone you lo— 

Someone you care about.

As you and Sun peruse the vacant floor, what you’re doing begins to catch up to you. It starts with a giggle from one or both of you—you’re not sure who, but it’s definitely you—like you’re misbehaving children getting into things you shouldn’t. Very quickly from there, the chortles you had tried to suppress from before begin to slip out with Sun not far behind, and you fall into a repetitive pattern of stifling your hitching breaths and hushing each other with no success.

“Sun, you’ve gotta—” you loudly snort and laugh even more. “You’ve gotta stop—”

“Ohoho, I’ve got to stop? Not this barrel of laughs right next to me?” he gibes, his free hand snaking out and poking you in your sensitive stomach.

“H-hey, no! You cut that out right now, mister!”

Sun’s fingers wriggle treacherously, and your squeal bounces off the walls. Another round of shushing does little to quell the jittering butterflies in your stomach that are making your chest heave with half-caught breaths. To your relief, Sun ceases the merciless assault on your ticklish side, but it’s only to then stop in place.

You stop as well when you realize he’s not budging, and you smile a little crookedly over your shoulder at the unreadable way he looks at you.

Standing there in the hall, Sun doesn’t move an inch aside from his rays that twirl in a leisurely circle. His hand is warm in yours, and his focus doesn’t stray to anywhere except you. He takes a long moment to just keep you at his side, quiet and contemplating.

Then, without preamble or any warning, he kindly says, “You have a pretty laugh.”

And wouldn’t you know it, there is now no air conditioning in the room whatsoever because you can feel yourself heating up all over.

“Oh,” you start, openly floundering like a fish out of water. “I’m… Thanks?”

An affectionate huff graces your ears.

“You don’t have to thank me for that, silly. All I mean to say is I enjoy hearing it. Seeing you happy makes me happy.”

Thump-thump.

Seems like all three of the brothers adore leaving you speechless too. You’re aware your mouth is parted, but you don’t even know what to say to that. Sun said it like it was another one of his simple observations he loves to make, like it’s as plain as the weather or the nose on your face. 

Like it wasn’t a tease or anything meant to poke fun. Just mere fact.

The edges of your lips find their way back up your cheeks.

“Then I’m glad to hear that. Because you make me happy too,” you say quietly.

Yellow rays pick up speed.

After a subtle glance around, you add, “Not that I don’t appreciate the really sweet confession, but are there any other pressing things you need to admit right now, or do you mind if we get outside first before your brothers show up? You said there was something you wanted to show me.”

The whites behind his blue pupils catch an opalescent flash of light, like mother of pearl.

“I suppose I can wait to tell you about my outstanding arrest warrant,” he says. “Come along then. We don’t have much time left!”

“Wait, your what now? Sun!”

He tugs you after him, warbling giggles promising he’s up to no good, and that’s all the answer you get from the animatronic. 

Thankfully, you make it down another hall without further incident as the walled-off pool comes into view. It’s surrounded by glass panes just like the gym. The lights are dim inside, signaling that it isn’t open. But that’s hardly a deterrent, and as you near the door that will let you inside, you can see through the room that on the other side of the pool is another door that leads out onto the rooftop.

In one swift swipe, Sun glides the key across the card reader, and the door unlocks with a beep. Like a true gentleman, he proudly opens the door for you. Or rather, he tries to.

You watch him jolt when the door doesn’t swing open. Grunting, he then grinds his heels into the floor and heaves and tries to yank on the door with all his might. The metal and glass obstacle refuses to budge.

Having some pity on him, you calmly say, “Honeybee, it’s push, not pull.”

He pauses. Stares. Gently, he nudges the door in the opposite direction. It swings open wide.

His grin is an even, flat line.

“I knew that.”

“Sure you did.”

Disregarding your mocking tone, he keeps the door propped open with a foot and bows low.

“After you, my dove.”

You shake your head at the endearment and step past him, waiting for him to quietly close the door behind you before you pipe up, voice echoing across the water.

“Are you just throwing out pet names now and seeing what sticks?”

His chassis purrs with his mirth, restlessness keeping him in motion. “I thought about calling you a chicken, but doing so seemed most fowl.”

“A ch— What did you just call me?!” Oh, you’re about to show him just how non-chicken you are, but you then cut yourself off as soon as his joke lands. Blowing out a loud breath, you give Sun the full scope of your unimpressed glower. His optics lift from his joviality.

“That was the worst pun I’ve ever heard.”

“Got you good though, didn’t I? Hmm?”

When he’s like this, very subtly swaying from one foot to the other like he’s listening to some silent tune and his endless delight needs to be used somewhere, you can’t hold onto a frown to save your life. You just can’t.

So you purse your lips and pout as hard as you can to show just how unamused you are. You’re so unamused. It’s almost funny how deep your lack of amusement runs, it’s so unamusing.

Your lips quiver at the edges. Sun sees it.

Without warning, he sidles up to you, humming some unknown tune, and then with his thumb and forefinger, he reaches up and pinches your lips together, making them even flatter.

“On second thought,” he remarks, completely ignoring your indignant, muffled protest, “a chicken or a dove isn’t accurate because what I’m clearly seeing now is a duck.”

He emphasizes his point with a squeeze, making you create the very unwanted impression of a duckbill, and he springs away from your enraged swat and squeak, delight carrying his voice loud across the pool.

“Sun!” you yell, rubbing your smarting mouth. “Don’t run away!”

“No offense, duckling,” he titters as he does the exact opposite of your demand, “but something tells me that would be to my detriment!”

“Yeah, that something is me! Come back here!”

You chase the fleeing animatronic around the pool and to the door leading outside. Sun slams into it first, sprinting out with you fast on his heels. The icy cold temperature shocks you from its severity, but you’re too lost in the chase to give it much thought. Sun skips all the way past the closed bar and outdoor pool, up a small flight of smooth cement stairs, and to an area overlooking the harbor.

Right into a corner.

Seemingly realizing his mistake, he turns back around, but you’re already there, closing in on him. What’s worse is he’s still cackling, and you don’t know how you’re going to get your payback, but you’ll figure it out somehow.

“Hoohoo, you’re looking a little frosty over there,” he says, hands lifting up in a placating motion as you near. “Perhaps this would be a wonderful time to go back inside where it’s nice and toasty!”

“Perhaps not,” you shoot back, ignoring how you’ve lost the war in maintaining a frown. The joy on Sun’s faceplate is just too contagious.

He drops the placating gesture in favor of hooking a finger in his collar and tugging on it like he’s nervous. What a drama queen.

“You know, I heard diplomacy is in currently! Super popular! All the cool cats are trying it, so I think we should give it a shot too to see what’s what.”

You’ve reached him at this point, and your hands land on your hips. “That’s funny to hear, Sunny, since just thirty seconds ago, you didn’t seem all that interested in it.”

The animatronic sputters at your very sound logic. His expression is not at all apologetic while he pulls an excuse out of thin air.

“Change of heart?” he says uncertainly.

“Yeah, how believable.” The desert has nothing on your arid tone. 

You step forward and grasp one of Sun’s bottom rays, one of the few you can actually reach. Though he could very easily withstand your strength, Sun lets you pull him down until he’s eye-level with you. You have some long-winded speech waiting in the wings—pun not intended—about how this “duckling” can meet him step for step in weaponized terms of endearment, and you absolutely will use that to your advantage to drop the most unhinged pet names in front of others when he least expects it.

But then Sun speaks up before you get the chance.

“If we were to, say, hypothetically, continue the trend of listing things that are funny,” he begins, speaking lower now that he’s so close to you, “then I’d like to mention how this little predicament happens to have reminded me of what I wanted to show you.”

Your skepticism is unmatched.

“Does it involve pulling a sudden disappearing act?”

“Goodness, no! That’s the very opposite of what I want because that would mean putting distance between myself and you… little duck.”

Your eyes narrow.

“You’re pushing it.”

“Just moving the goalpost, darling. Let me finish before we run out of time.”

You can’t help cracking up at that, shaking his ray a little so that all of them swing side to side a few degrees.

“What, do you turn into a pumpkin at midnight or something?”

“Excuse you, I’m more akin to a Prince Charming than anything. But that’s beside the point because I have something very important I need to tell you.”

When he says your name then, the silliness ebbing away to make room for something more serious, you perk up, and your smile dims with concern.

But Sun eases away the wrinkles of worry with his thumb, soundlessly cupping your cheek and soothing you in a motion that makes your heart skip. You’ve noticed it doing that a lot lately. He takes the hand that’s listlessly clinging to his ray, curls his long fingers around it, and lifts it up to press a kiss to your knuckles. The wind is slow yet sharp, cutting into your bones. You instinctively huddle into your coat in a vain attempt to preserve some heat.

Sun tuts when you shiver and helps you slide your arms into the sleeves of your coat rather than just keep it around your shoulders.

“I should have brought my jacket up as well so you’d be at least a little warmer. Sorry about that.”

You snatch his hand back, which he gladly accepts.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine with you here. Just tell me what’s on your mind.”

Sun chuffs, shaking his head but minding his rays so that they don’t prod or scrape you. His mouth twitches.

“You’re always so sweet, honeydew. Silly pet names aside, I hope you know that I’m only ever teasing you with them. When I’m not trying to be a romantic, that is, which is actually always, but regardless—”

“Romantic?” you interrupt softly.

This time, Sun’s eyes do widen. His rays pop out wider, and it’s the first time tonight he actually looks rattled.

“Oh! Oh goodness, I did just say that, didn’t I? Not that that isn’t exactly why I brought you up here in the first place, but I had intended to at least drop that particular piece of information with a little more delicateness. I don’t want to go scaring you off so soon before I’ve even had the chance to reach the second bullet point in the speech I’ve rehearsed and scrapped at least a thousand times, and— Oh dear, this isn’t how I’d planned things to go.”

“Sun,” you say as soon as he pauses. His rays begin speeding at your voice, and you resist the sudden desire to close the infinitesimally small space between you. But you do have an inkling of why he brought you up here, why Eclipse and Moon hung back to give you time alone with him.

The math is starting to add up. Surprisingly, even with your rapid fluctuation of heart-pounding excitement, you feel a calmness that reassures you. This is where you’re meant to be, with him.

“Be honest with me,” you request, and Sun nods emphatically. Dork, you think with full affection. You take a deep breath in, hold his gaze and the stars within, and then let your breath out. There’s nowhere else to go, but your feet still try to inch you closer. “Did you bring me up here to kiss me?”

A lull. Out here, it’s a little harder to hear Sun’s mechanisms working overtime, but the fact that you can hear them at all tells you he’s processing quite a bit. That already is a big hint of an answer, but you want to hear him say so yourself.

With an artificial exhale that layers an inexplicable tenderness, he says, “Well, it wasn’t an expectation, but I certainly would be lying if I said I wouldn’t like that. More than that, though, I just wanted to confess how I feel about you and go from there. But I suppose I am that transparent, aren’t I?”

Your cheeks are stretching again from your happiness.

“Don’t feel too bad. It took me until a certain conversation with Eclipse a few weeks ago to realize any of you had feelings for me.”

Another puff, this one exasperated.

“Yes, I'm aware. Honestly, we all thought we weren’t being subtle in the slightest. Even our coworkers noticed, dear.”

You wince and protest, “Okay, well, I thought they were just joking around! You can’t blame me for that. Especially since I thought you all were just playing too.”

“Which remains a mystery to me! I even asked you months ago if you wanted to practice kissing so that we could get it right during filming.”

Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens once more.

The moment he’s referring to is vivid in your memory, only because you’ve thought about it more times than you’d like to admit and had just sadly written it off as Sun being his usual playful self. Yes, he was flirting, but you hadn’t thought he was flirting-flirting. Just that it was the usual game you all play. But still… months ago? Just how long have these three been trying to get your attention?

“You were flirting with me then?” you say quizzically.

Sun chuckles, and one of his arms winds around your waist. He holds you like the daintiest flower, and even you feel a flash of embarrassment over just how much you like that.

“As I said, a mystery. But like any good sleuth, I have a feeling that with your help, we can put our heads together and solve this case.”

You brighten immediately. There he is.

“Ah, I see,” you play along. “Taking inspiration from a certain show, hm? So what are your deductions, Detective Sun?”

“I’m so glad you asked! Because I have quite a few, but for the sake of time and the fact that the fireworks are soon to start, I’ll give you the cliff notes version and do away with any alleged speech, rehearsed or not.”

His palm is so warm around your cheek, hiding you from the cold as much as he can. You hardly even notice it when he’s embracing you like this. Your eyes search his, your entire being ready to latch onto his every word to lock it inside your heart and never let it go.

In the strongest sincerity you’ve ever heard from him, he says, unspeakably gently, “I like you. Not just as a friend, though you are without a doubt one of the best and closest I’ve ever had. I like you in the sense that I have fallen for you. Complete head over heels, tumbling-down-the-staircase kind of mess. I'm absolutely sure you know that by now, but if you don’t, I am not above paying to have it written in the sky so that it gets through your thick but lovable head.” His warning comes with a wagging finger, and you snort despite the unexpected mistiness creeping behind your eyelids again when you blink.

Sun’s fake glower softens to an incandescent warmth, pulling you in like a flower.

“The point is, I want to pursue this feeling with you, as do my brothers. I’m sure they’ve already told you. Heaven knows if I have to listen to Moon brag for another minute about getting a kiss from you tonight, I will lose my sanity. But I also heard from a little birdie that my brothers requested a little, hmm, how did they put it? A head start on the new year?”

You bite your lip. His scrutiny falls lower, and your uneven breath is a cloud of white smoke between you and him.

“Something like that,” you softly say.

Sun’s servos whistle a delighted song.

“I hope you’ll excuse me for being so bold because I’m about to be like that regardless,” he says, “but it sounds like they didn’t do the tradition properly at all. They seem to have missed one very crucial factor, and I think you know exactly what I mean. So with that in mind, precious, may I steal a kiss from you to make sure it’s done right?”

After a confession like that? You wind your arms around his neck, lips parting, blood pounding in your ears. He needn’t have even asked.

It takes a moment to find your voice, but you make sure it reaches him even as a whisper.

“As long as you promise to give it back.” Your fingers toy with the back of his silk tie.

You don’t mistake the way his arms tremble like he’s afraid to hold you any tighter. 

His words fall on a cadence weighted down by obvious want.

“If that’s the price for stealing such a lovely treasure,” he respires synthetically, “then I might just have to pay it over and over again.”

In the next second, his mouth finds yours, pressing headily to your lips and threatening to consume you whole. You gasp against him, clinging to the back of his shirt needily while his hand crawls to the back of your head and cups it in a gentle hold so that he can better angle the kiss. His arm doesn’t constrict your waist, but he keeps you there with the assuredness that he doesn’t want to let you go, and his deep groan at your insistence to hold him even tighter makes you lightheaded.

The snowing has stopped, and the temperature has continued to only drop, but you couldn’t feel hotter. The flame inside of you bursts to life with a rush of a powerful emotion that would have once scared you away. Now you only tiptoe around it, not ready to reveal it yet but knowing that it is there, waiting and growing steadily every moment you spend with Sun and his brothers. 

You tilt your head with a ragged exhale while Sun twines some of your hair between his fingers, not yanking but prompting a delicious tension that sends a wonderful pleasure through your skull. You’re shivering again, and it’s all his doing.

He writes intimacy and sentiment on your lips with his teeth, capturing every micro-breath you try to take, and still you try to press closer to him. He breaks the kiss for a split second that allows you all of one heightened inhale before he’s stealing that too, and you’re burning together in an addictive passion that you never want to unlearn. For as long as he’ll allow it, you want to know only the smooth curve of his mouth and the hot metal of his chassis that is flush with your chest and the distracting digits dragging along the back of your head and the protective line of his arm that coils around your waist with an equally firm hand securing you there.

That’s all you need to know in the moment.

When Sun parts from you, moving away first because he probably correctly guessed that you’d keep kissing him until you passed out, his eyes slip open halfway, and his grin is askew like he’s swooning. You’re sure you have a similar goofy look too, concealed just barely by the clouds of white that spill out along every exhale while your lungs hurt delightfully. The cold snap strengthens when yellow rays spin at such a fast pace, they’re almost invisible.

The world is near-silent up here, city activity sounding so far away that it doesn’t disturb this perfect peace you’ve found. You don’t want to break the quiet and risk it all being a figment of your imagination once more. So you watch in wonder at how Sun peers at you intently, like he’s fascinated by whatever sight you make.

He braves cutting the silence first, albeit with a far-from-intrusive volume.

“Hmm, how was that? Do you think we got it right, or should we try again?”

You exhale long and slow. The white cloud of air billows.

“I don’t see how it could possibly be more perfect than that.” You adore the way Sun melts at your admission. “At this point, I’m just waiting to wake up.”

The solar animatronic pauses. His rays twist again, back and forth as if in uncertainty.

“From a dream or a nightmare?” he presses.

“A dream, silly.” You fondly shake your head. “Just seems like I’ve been imagining having this for so long, it doesn’t feel real. You, Moon, and Eclipse. I’m worried I’ll blink and be back in my own bed again, alone.”

The hand at your side taps a little rhythm. Sun’s nervousness vanishes as quick as a spring shower.

“I’m afraid to break the news to you,” he says, “but if those are the dreams you’re having, I won’t be waking you up anytime soon.”

You receive a quick kiss on the nose, which makes you twitch and Sun coo at that. You get him back with a kiss to the corner of his teeth. His wavering thrum of pleasure draws out until it morphs into a frustrated groan.

It’s your turn for concern.

“What’s wrong?”

Sun grunts, “Nothing, nothing. Just reminded that I am sadly not an only child.”

“What?”

He inclines his head at something behind you, and you turn in his arms to see what he’s looking at, much to his disheartened whine.

Just beyond the pool room next to the glass door that requires a key to enter, Moon stands there in the hallway, pressed to the glass and a dead grin on his face. His red pupils nearly take up the entirety of his optics. Eclipse is not too far off, but he’s at least giving you some sense of privacy by not staring your way.

Moon gives you a little wave.

You turn back to Sun.

“You know those videos people post of their pets watching them from the window?”

Sun releases a loud, rumbling hiss of static amusement.

“Oh, don’t let them hear you say that. I’m pretty sure at least one of those two in there bites.”

“But not you?” you quip, elbowing him.

Blue flickers against white.

“Only if you ask me to.”

Right then. Probably should have seen that one coming from a mile away. 

“Raincheck,” you deflect. “Let’s let the others out first before they miss the fireworks.”

Sun dramatically releases you with a disappointed flair fitting for the stage, but he does as you request.

“I’ll go get the door. You wait right there, precious.”

You watch him skitter over back around the outdoor pool, through the door into the pool room, and then over to the door where his brothers wait. As soon as he tries to open it, a strange sort of tug of war begins where Sun attempts to pull one way, and Moon pulls just as hard on the other side. Judging by his expression, he’s doing it just for the sake of being a brat. The two engage in some back and forth, and though you can’t hear them, you can see Sun’s annoyance and Moon’s pure delight. It’s broken up finally by Eclipse grabbing the back of Moon’s coat and lifting him up like he’s scruffing a cat. Moon doesn’t even put up a fight, seemingly appeased that he sufficiently got under his other brother’s wires.

Once Eclipse sets him back down, Sun opens the door, and the three of them traipse through the pool room to the rooftop exit.

“I should have just left you in there!” Sun is saying as he throws open the door with a harrumph. “Honestly, you’re just so unnecessarily much sometimes!”

“Worth it,” Moon returns, unaffected by his sibling’s agitation. He lights up when he spies you.

“Moonie,” you tease as he approaches, “are you annoying your brother again on purpose?”

“No,” Moon says at the same time Sun gives an annoyed “yes.”

“It’s sibling tax,” he clarifies, coming to a stop next to you.

You tsk.

“I’d be careful if I were you. That sibling tax might come at a cost if Sun decides to do something like throw your hat off the building.”

You’ve barely finished the sentence before dark blue and silver digits are slamming onto the brim of Moon’s hat. He sends a dirty scowl at his brother who’s more than intrigued at the prospect by the sounds of it.

His voice is gruff and disapproving at you.

“Don’t give him ideas.”

Sun snips back, “Don’t be a varmint then.”

While the bickering continues, you find yourself mouthing varmint in confusion at Eclipse. He just shakes his head, equally bemused.

“Three minutes to midnight,” he announces over the sounds of ill-timed threats, probably to redirect his brothers’ focus.

You face the harbor. Sun stands sullenly at your side, and you startle in initial surprise when two arms slide over your shoulders from behind and loosely cross your chest. You sag against Eclipse, idly reaching up to rub one of his wrists as the approaching hour and year looms before you. It’s crazy to you how in such a short amount of time, you’ve grown so comfortable with the celestial brothers. Like something you’ve come to expect and especially welcome. The meaning and intent behind that comfort is the only part that’s shifted, and the change is one that leaves you undeniably giddy.

You’ve celebrated New Year’s Eve before, but never like this. Not with people who mean the world to you in ways you can’t even describe. It’s an entirely new course of life that you’re about to start with them, tentatively exploring this uncharted territory together, and the thought stirs up your curiosity.

What lies ahead? Not just relationship-wise, though that’s something you doubt you could really fathom with all the nuances you will surely find. The unknowing surrounding it actually gives you some relief. You don’t have to stress over and evaluate your every move. Whatever happens with them—with Sun, Moon, and Eclipse—will happen naturally. It’s cause for excitement, which has you shivering from more than just the cold now.

But you find your mind drifting to what will come after this show is finished. You’ve gotten so used to being with them at most hours of the day because you work together. What will it be like afterwards when the time you have with them will be reserved for coming home to a full apartment and making new memories in a much more intimate setting? Where will their talent take them next?

Before you can second-guess yourself, you broach the topic.

“Earlier tonight, I asked you what you’re doing after this,” you say, feeling the heavy weight of the attention from all three. You wet your dry lips. “And Moon was too busy being a gremlin to let me get a straight answer.”

The corners of Moon’s mouth scrunch up, but he doesn’t interrupt you.

“What I really meant back there was… what are you guys going to do after our show is over? Do you have any gigs lined up?”

“Not quite.” Sun clasps his hands together. “But our agent did tip us about a possible dual leviathan role that myself and Moon might consider. It’d mean a lot of CGI, but we would get to wear those funky motion capture suits with the little dots all over them! So who knows. We might just end up trying out for that.”

Your lips quirk in bemusement as you try to imagine it.

“Don’t you need to be, I don’t know, swimming in order to act out a big, scary leviathan?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Moon dismisses, and he leans back against the rooftop balcony. The gentle crimson glow when he studies you is like dying stars in this low light. “If anything, it will be a chance to challenge ourselves in not using our voices as much unless they decide to make the leviathans capable of speech. What Sun said does have its appeal, and we’d probably get to experience some wire acrobatics. But I also think we’d have fun trying our hands at something spooky. Maybe with cryptids or familiars or lifeguards. We’re great at being scary, you know.”

Your face wrinkles.

“One of those is not like the others.” 

“You just haven’t seen me acting as a demon yet.”

“I see you act like that every day,” you say evenly to the tune of Sun’s and Eclipse’s ensuing chortles and Moon’s sharp squint. “Wouldn’t really call that one the outlier of the ideas you suggested.”

“Whatever the case, Clip hasn’t decided where he’ll go next either,” Sun adds, earning a noise of agreement from the animatronic behind you. “I heard there might be potential for a third role in the leviathan storyline, but it would be a prequel of sorts. Curious how they’re planning on pulling that one off.”

“They really do plan ahead, huh?” You tap a finger on your arm, and your gaze is pulled to the winter night sky once more. It is so beautiful up here.

“And what about you?” Eclipse chimes next. “Where will you go after this?”

A hum stirs from your throat.

You’re not sure yet. There is a realm of possibilities stretching out before you. The time to contact your acting agent is nearing, and you feel a strong curl of melancholy at the show you’ve put your heart and soul into coming to its end. It’s been a wild ride, and the memories you’ve gained from your experiences will follow you long after you’ve parted ways with the show. But as Sun said, who knows? Maybe one day you’ll find yourself slipping back into your vigilante costume again and playing a game of chase with a pair of handsome detectives.

You look to your boys, standing with you in the cold and enjoying the seclusion from the rest of the city. 

“I haven’t quite figured that out yet,” you answer truthfully. You reach out, and without hesitation, Sun and Moon each take your offered hands, one after the other, large metal joints protecting your fragile fingers from the bitter chill. “But no matter where I end up, I’m sure that it won’t be the same without working next to you.”

Sun holds you tighter.

“True, it will be impossible to ever replace the amazing cohorts that we were. But that’s why you’ve got us to come home to now, yes?”

His happy expression reflects back onto you. He’s right. You have a lot to explore now, don’t you? And it all starts with them.

“Yeah. I shouldn’t worry about the future now. After all, I’ve only got two hands.”

Moon’s optics gleam dangerously with his ever-present grin.

“Don’t forget your third one,” he says, nodding surreptitiously behind you.

You start to turn, but before you can, Eclipse’s voice grazes your ear.

“Oh, they won’t.”

Cold metal just barely singes you as a large hand brushes under your chin and tilts your head up until you can see him hovering over you. His eyes are flames in the dark, shining upon you with the intensity of a celestial body. His rays have begun to whirl, and you think it might be because of the wind because it sorely reminds you of a pinwheel, and you have to choke back a laugh. It’s not hard to do when his fingertips caress your skin, snaring your focus and dragging a plume of air past your lips.

“No,” you agree warmly. “I won’t.”

Your inhale stutters right back out when the animatronic stoops down low enough to press a kiss to your forehead before letting your chin go. The sound of a piercing whistle and thunderous boom retrieves your attention, bringing it to the harbor as the first crackles of color light up the night.

The ensuing display is breathtaking. The subtle smell of smoke from the fireworks catches on the wind and carries over to your group as you watch in awe the dawning of a new year. It’s heralded by sparks of intricate designs and blooms that make you squeeze the hands you’re holding on to, savoring the twin pulses you receive in turn. The presence at your back is a solid wall shielding you from the cold as much as possible, heavy arms a comfort that drape loosely around your front.

As you enjoy the fireworks with Moon, Eclipse, and Sun, you can’t help but smirk at what your beloved vigilante would have to say to this. No doubt they’d believe it to be some fever dream, and honestly, up until tonight, you’d thought the same. You’re certain that the smooth operative nature of the brothers’ teamwork to subdue your heart is almost identical to a parallel universe of a different era and a different story—one you can imagine as surely as the ringing of bells in your hair.

Just, you know. Under very different circumstances and outcomes.

For the next half hour, you relish the colorful nighttime display with your boys, all the way up to and through the grand finale. By the time the show ends, you are shaking from the cold, but it’s worth it for the special moment you get to share with them. Everything melds together in a joyous night that follows you all the way back home with the three animatronics whom you adore. Perhaps one day, you might even have the courage to confess that you love them, even though you have a strong suspicion they already know that, confession or no. It’s a comfort to know that just like with everything else, they’ll wait for you first.

But that’s a story for another time.

#eclipse x reader #sun x reader #moon x reader #daycare attendant x reader #sleuth jesters actor au #fnaf sb #writing tag #hope you all enjoy sweet and kind Eclipse while he lasts #because after this I'm jumping back into the other AU where he lives and makes it everyone's problem lol

[spyskater]

As an OG HSM fan (like I watched the OG on Disney Channel when it released), I gotta commend everyone on a fantastic show. When they announced a TV series, I was like "It's too late; we don't want this," but I watched the first episode just to see what they were doing to my beloved series.

I was blown away and immediately invested. I was also extremely impressed by the two young actors they found to be our new stars. There's no replacing Zac and Vanessa, but Joshua and Olivia were so immensely talented and could hold their own. Olivia Rodrigo especially caught my eye and ear. There was a unique star power there and discovering that she wrote All I Want convinced me to further invest in her career. This kid was definitely going places. Lo and behold, Drivers License and her solo music career took off. Turned out, I was right. But I also knew eventually, that would somehow impact the show. I wasn't shocked that Olivia eventually chose to leave to focus in on her music. In fact, I was and am incredibly proud of her success.

Luckily for the show, the writers and producers had already done an amazing job building up a new leading lady. They just didn't know it and neither did we. You will never convince me that Ricky and Gina were the plan in season 1. In fact, as a Rina shipper in season 1, I had already accepted that Ricky was destined to be with Nini and grateful that we'd gotten a beautifully written Rina story and that Gina and EJ were just as lovely and wonderful (still miss you, Portwell). There was no way the writers could have predicted the pivot they would have to make from Olivia/Nini/Rini to Sofia/Gina/Rina. But God, are we all so lucky to have Sofia Wylie.

Sofia stepped into the leading lady role perfectly from season 3 to the very end. She is so talented in every way, singing, dancing, acting. She excels at it all. And Olivia's exit from the show really helped to further showcase all of these talents. Every moment is a shining one from her. I was in tears over her series finale monologue. And thankfully, the writers hadn't neglected to write Gina as fully fleshed out while she was only a supporting character. Thankfully, the writers had already built a solid foundation for Ricky/Gina. If they hadn't, the transition would never have worked. The show would have declined as many have before. Instead, the gear shift brought a new energy to the show and maybe even gave everyone else in the cast more of a chance to shine.

The reason I say all this is because I've seen a lot of fighting over Olivia vs. Sofia. The reality is, both of these young women brought something equally important to the show. They were both special and unique and gave their all to the characters they played. They were both our leading ladies. Olivia Rodrigo started the race and passed the torch on to Sofia Wylie to finish. And man, did she finish it beautifully. I'm proud of both of them, the work they did on HSMTMTS, and look forward to what the future holds for them.

#olivia rodrigo #sofia wylie #hsmtmts #high school musical the musical the series #nini salazar roberts #gina porter #stop the infighting and appreciate them both #they both need to always be able to work

[ashbrat488]

Foul Play - Chapter 35

August 2023

"Are you absolutely certain about this, Millicent?" Darren inquired as he handed her the bouquet.

"Absolutely." Her reply was swift and resolute as she met her father's gaze, her confusion evident. "Do you not like Henry?"

Darren chuckled, his hands gently resting on her arms as he nodded affectionately. "Sweetheart, I want you to know that it's not about whether I like Henry or not, or whether I think he's the right fit for you. My concern lies in the fact that you two haven't been together for very long."

Millicent sighed softly, a smile gracing her lips as she looked at her father. "I understand your worries about us moving quickly, but we've had countless discussions about this, and we're absolutely certain. We're deeply in love and eager to be married."

Darren nodded, his knuckles brushing lightly against her cheek, a tender smile on his lips. "Very well then. You look beautiful today, sweetheart. I'm immensely proud of you. You are a strong and capable woman and i know you will go far."

"Thank you, Daddy." Millicent's smile widened as she leaned into the gentle touch of his hand on her cheek.

"All right." Darren cleared his throat, offering his arm to her. "Let's get you married."

Millicent nodded, following her father out of her former bedroom. "I appreciate you allowing us to use your home."

"I'll always be here for you, no matter what you need. That's a promise."

A tear welled in her eye as she smiled up at her father while they approached the back door. She took a deep breath as the doors swung open, revealing Henry standing at the far end of the aisle adorned with white rose petals. A smile blossomed on her face as her eyes locked with Henry's, the setting sun casting a warm glow behind him. She began her walk toward him, accompanied by her father.

As they reached the end of the aisle, Darren pressed a loving kiss to her cheek and placed her hand in Henry's. "Take good care of her."

Henry nodded, his smile radiant. "I promise."

Millicent handed her bouquet to Abby with a joyful smile before turning back to Henry, their hands entwined. She nibbled on her lower lip as Henry beamed at her, his gaze unwavering as the priest commenced the ceremony. Millicent's heart raced, and though she missed some of the priest's words, she felt the warmth in Henry's hands as he began his vows.

"Millicent," he started, his voice quivering with emotion, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears, "you are the most wonderful person I know. The first time our lips met remains the best day of my life. I have never met anyone kinder or more compassionate. You are the smartest, most beautiful woman I've ever known, and every day, you make me a better man. I promise to prove every day that I am worthy of being your partner in all aspects of life and I can't wait to be able to see you as a mother one day."

Her voice trembled with emotion, and he could feel the depth of her love in every word. "You make me happier than I ever thought possible, Henry," she continued, her voice filled with sincerity. "Every day, I fall more in love with you. I never knew what true happiness was until I found you. I am so grateful for the love and support you show me daily. You make me so happy, and I promise to always be your biggest fan."

The love between her and Henry was palpable, and it filled the air with warmth and happiness. The priest smiled, clearly moved by the genuine love between the couple, and said, "With the vows you have exchanged, and the rings you are about to give to each other, you have expressed your love and commitment. It is now my great pleasure to pronounce you husband and wife."

Cheers erupted from the small crowd as Henry and Millicent beamed at each other. Henry cradled the back of her head gently, pulling her in for a passionate kiss. He released her reluctantly, squeezing her hand. "I love you so much, Shortcake."

She couldn't hold back the smile as she pressed another kiss to his lips. "I love you too."

***

Henry placed his hand on Millicent's lower back, pulling her body flush against his as their first dance song began. She wrapped both arms around his neck with a warm smile. "You know, it's a shame we can't sneak away to consummate our marriage," she teased with a smirk.

Henry chuckled, darting his tongue out over his lips. "Maybe if we had a bigger wedding, it would be less noticeable if we vanished for a bit. But you're the one that insisted on something small."

She shrugged slightly, glancing around at their families and friends. "I didn't want to be surrounded by a bunch of people I don't know on the happiest day of my life."

He grinned with adoration at her, bringing his hand up to stroke her cheek. "I completely agree. My beautiful wife..."

She blushed slightly, sliding her hand up into his hair as she leaned in to close the distance between them. "My handsome husband," she murmured as she pressed her lips against his. She let her lips linger briefly against his, savoring the taste of him as she ran her hand down the back of his head. His eyes drifted closed, his lips parted slightly as his tongue darted out to brush against hers.

He pulled back abruptly with a sheepish grin. "We'll have to wait until later for more..."

She nodded, her breath hitching as she brought her thumb up to rub some lipstick off his lower lip. "I can't wait."

***

Henry's breath catches and he leaps to his feet at the sight of Millicent entering the bedroom in white lingerie. Her see-through lace bra was accompanied by a matching white thong. "Wow... Shortcake..."

She blushed, wrapping her arms timidly around herself. She knew that Henry found her attractive, but still, she couldn't help her own insecurities sometimes. "Is it okay? I wanted to wear something sexy for our wedding night."

Henry chuckled slightly, approaching her to grab her hands from herself. "Don't ever hide yourself from me. And you look fucking amazing."

She ran her hands up his hair-covered chest to encircle his neck as he pulled her against him. "Show me how amazing, Henry."

"I plan to... all fucking night," he promised, eliciting a giggle from her before he sealed his mouth over hers.

Their mouths slid against each other hungrily as he brought her body against his, her legs straddling his waist as she ground into him. She moaned softly, her hands gripping his shoulders tightly as he ran his hands along her back, pressing her body closer to his. Their bodies began to writhe against each other, passion building between them as their tongues danced with one another.

He twirled her toward the bed, collapsing atop the sheets together. "You're so perfect, Millicent," he whispers, pressing a small kiss to her lips as he undid her bra slowly. He pulled it off, tossing it onto the ground behind him. He grabbed her waist, flipping her onto her stomach as he straddled her. He leaned forward, laying kisses along her spine as she shivered under him.

She moaned as she felt him drag his hands down her shoulder blades and back until he reached her thong. He slid it off, tossing it aside as well as his boxers. He gave her ass an appreciative smack before dipping down to take a small bite as she giggled. "Henry!"

"Sorry, it's just so cute..."

She wiggled her ass beneath him playfully as he took another bite of her ass. She cried out in surprise when his hand landed roughly across her bottom, eliciting a yelp from her as he laughed quietly. He kissed her neck softly as she shuddered with pleasure. "Stop teasing me, Henry," she whined, her fingers digging into his hair. "Make love to me."

He smirked, biting her shoulder lightly before turning her onto her back, her nipples hard with anticipation. He pressed himself against her, his hands roaming up her thighs and sides until he finally reached her breasts. He began to fondle them roughly as he sucked on her neck, relishing the feel of her soft skin against his lips. She gasped as he brought his fingers down her front, parting her legs slightly as he stroked his fingertips along her sensitive flesh.

She began to whimper softly, pressing her palms against the mattress as she dug her nails into the sheets beneath her. She watched him closely, fascinated by the way his eyes lit up with desire as he stroked her breast, her pink nipple darkening as his hand covered it. She held her breath as he bit down gently on her breast, her body arching into his mouth as her moans filled the room. He swiped his thumb across her nipple, causing her to cry out, feeling his finger slide inside of her. He groaned as he inserted another finger inside of her, rubbing his thumb over her clit gently.

He leaned down, kissing her neck as he whispered seductively against her ear, "Tell me what you want."

She could barely form a coherent thought, moaning incoherently as she clutched at the bedsheets. "I want you inside of me, Henry," she whimpered.

His fingers stopped their rhythm, leaving her frustrated. "Not yet," he told her softly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he lowered his head to capture one of her trembling nipples in his mouth. He rolled his tongue around the tip of her nipple, enjoying the pleasurable sounds that escaped her lips as he massaged her other breast with his other hand. He ran his fingers down her side and back again, stopping just short of where her hips joined her torso. He looked up at her, his expression serious as he whispered, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she whispered, "please, Henry."

"Shh," he told her soothingly, his voice deepening as he pressed his cock against her entrance. "You're going to feel so good."

She whimpered softly as he pushed forward, allowing her to adjust to his size before withdrawing once again. As he entered her a second time, her walls squeezed him tightly, making him moan. He began to thrust harder, watching her intently as he did so. Her moans became louder, filling the room as he leaned forward to suck on her nipples again. He grasped her waist firmly, pulling her back towards him as he pushed deeper inside of her. She bit down on her lip, trying to stifle the cries that threatened to escape.

"I want to hear you, Shortcake. Moans, whimpers, screams. I want it all. Don't hold back," he groaned in response, his thrusts becoming faster as he thrust deep inside of her.

"Please, Henry," she pleaded.

"So pretty..." he moaned against her throat as he rubbed his thumb over her clit. "Your pussy feels so tight."

She gripped the sheets, closing her eyes tightly as her orgasm overtook her. Her moans echoed through the room as he rode out his own release. They collapsed on top of each other, panting softly as they struggled to catch their breaths. She tilted her head up to stare at him with an adoring gaze. "That was amazing," she whispered softly.

He pulled her closer, smiling softly as he nuzzled her neck. "Don't get too comfortable there. I'm not nearly done with you yet."

She giggled as he turned her onto her back, pinning her under him as he crushed his mouth against hers and she knew she would be getting minimal sleep.

Epilogue

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill xofc #henry cavill au #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill

[kingsdespair-if]

oh, the secret taking care of the kid ask was SO adorable, you did such a great job, my heart melted away😭😭 could we maybe also have the same scenario for our beloved Veldon?? 👉👈🥺 Or maybe a super cute scenario where MC and the baby share a birthday and he prepares a party for them both?? I just love their little family to pieces AHHHH 😭😭❣️❣️ thanks for all your wonderful writing and have a lovely day🥰🥰

Hello, dear. I've missed you, my dear Veldon anon 😂

Absolutely! Let's take a look at it.

~

[[Veldon POV]]

Veldon wakes up, ready for a busy day ahead. He has two birthdays to celebrate for two of the most important people in his life. His wife is sleeping peacefully beside him, holding onto his waist, while their baby sleeps soundly between them.

Being a married man with a family of his own brings Veldon immense joy. He wakes up with a smile on his face every day, and this feeling has only grown stronger since their baby was born.

Veldon gently extricates himself from his wife's embrace and prepares for the day ahead. As he dresses in silence, his gaze falls upon his wife and baby, peacefully curled up together in sleep. He longs to capture this moment forever, wishing he could summon a painter to immortalize the scene.

Overwhelmed with love, he fears his heart may overflow.

Quietly, he exits the room, grateful for the stealth lessons Veleena had imparted upon him. These lessons enable him to slip away each morning for training without disturbing his slumbering wife and child.

He dashes through the castle hallways, engaging in conversations with servants and the individuals he had enlisted to create an impeccable day for his beloved ones. And impeccable it must be. As he consistently reminds his wife, this is the utmost significant day in history, as it marks the birth of his soulmate and their own child, forming a complete family for him to adore and treasure.

He woke up early, as he always did, to meticulously attend to every minor detail, even though he had already checked them countless times over the past two weeks. His dedication to perfection was unwavering.

Once he was satisfied with the results, a few hours later, he returned to his bed chambers to wake his wife and commence the party. The sun had finally risen, casting a flawless blue sky without a single cloud. A gentle breeze from the north tempered the warmth of the sun, creating an ideal day.

Veldon, on his way back to his chamber, stoops down to pick up a delicate flower, a morning gift that he vows to never forget.

To his surprise, when he opened the door, his wife was already awake, feeding the baby. A bright smile adorned her face as she caught sight of him. With a sleepy expression, tousled hair, and still clad in her night clothes, she looked absolutely beautiful to Veldon.

"Good morning, darling. How is my birthday girl this morning? And my birthday baby?" he asks, coming close to sit beside MC. As always, he kisses his wife's forehead and tucks the flower in her hair, a token of his love.

"So you haven't forgotten?" she asks, a playful smirk appearing on her lips.

"Forgotten what?" he replies.

"My birthday, silly. Our baby's birthday."

"Oh, is it really your birthday today? Thank goodness I guessed the right day," he smirks in return.

"You know what? Veleena is right, you truly are a fool," his wife rolls her eyes and lightly punches his arm. His smile widens and a chuckle escapes his lips.

"I am a fool for you, yes. But enough with the small talk. Please go and get dressed. My surprise can't wait any longer. I need to see the smile on your face. Go, I'll take care of our child," he says, not waiting for a response as he swiftly takes their child from his wife's arms. She shakes her head but complies.

Veldon watches as she goes to get dressed, holding their baby in his arms. A few moments later, she returns to the room, fully dressed in the beautiful clothes Veldon had given her.

He takes a blindfold from his pocket and gently wraps it around his wife's eyes. "I need you to wear this for my surprise, darling."

"Now, hold our baby. Here," Veldon carefully places the baby back in his wife's arms. Once he is sure she won't drop the little one, he speaks again. "I'm going to lift you up in my arms, don't be scared."

"What? Why? I can walk, just give me your arm and guide me."

"No, you are my princess, and my princess will not walk to her own party." With that, Veldon lifts MC in his arms, their baby laughing at the commotion. The soft baby noises make him smile.

"Are you ready for the best day of your life? Well, after marrying me and, of course, the birth of our child."

"Yes, you fool."

Veldon effortlessly carries MC in his arms as the enticing aroma of sweets, pies, drinks, and all of MC's favorite foods fills their nostrils. Just before entering the ballroom for the party, Veldon plants a gentle kiss on his wife's cheek and his baby's forehead, whispering softly.

"I know it's your birthday, but I wanted to remind you that you are the greatest gift I could ever ask for. I love both of you dearly. Now, let's make the most of this special day, my darling."

#kingsdespair if #interactive fiction #twine if #twine game #twine wip #original character #ask #anon #Veldon