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moongothic · 5 months

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The reason I ended that Crocodad AU where he finds Baby Robin-post where I did was because I actually just don't know what would happen next, where things would go from there. Let's talk about that.

Also apologies in advance, this post got obscenely long. Again. I don't know how this keeps on happening.

(If you wanted the minimum context without having to read the whole OG post, just scroll down to the Plot Section and read until the end from there)

But just to give a minor recap: They're in the tombs of Alubarna, Cobra's dead and the second the guards notice their king has gone missing they're going go searching for him. So there's no time to mess around, Crocodile and Robin need to leave as soon as possible before they're discovered, otherwise they'll risk getting reported to the World Government for assasinating Cobra and boy howdy Croc's not going to be a Shichibukai for long if that happens. The two are there to just get what they want. Crocodile wants Pluton. And the Poneglyph says its in Wano Country

What the hell are either of these two going to do? In this scenario?

'Cause on one hand, there's Robin, who could be scared shitless of Crocodile and unsure what to do next.

If Robin tells him, will Crocodile kill her because he doesn't need her anymore? Because he got what he wanted?

Or might he lash out at her and kill her because the weapon isn't in Alabasta as he had assumed?

But if she refuses to tell him, he'll kill her anyways, won't he?

She can't run away from him anyways, he'd catch her in seconds.

Should she lie and give him a fake location nearby in the hopes of creating an opportunity for her to escape?

But even if she managed to escape, she'd be back on the run from the Government all over again, fighting for her life, all alone.

(Minor note but it's worth pointing out that Robin probably wouldn't know about Wano's takeover, she might not know who Kaidou is, let alone what the Yonkou are, or where Wano even is. Like we know it's a bombshell of information, but Robin wouldn't know where on The Scale of Bad News it'd land, and that could also add to her fear of telling the truth)

Like I think those would be the kinds of thoughts that would run through Robin's mind, and even I can't tell what she'd do.

And on the other hook, we have Mr Murderdile. How the fuck would he even react to whatever Robin would do?

I mean I don't think he'd actually kill Robin if she told him the truth about what the Poneglyph says. I do think he would Fucking Furious and deeply hurt if she'd refuse to tell him, if she'd lie or tried to flee, as these would be acts of betrayal and we know Crocodile would not take that well. Would he kill her for betraying him? Possibly? Since he could see her as a threat to his son's life (the priority), I don't fucking know man. That could very much turn into like a "Doflamingo killing Rocinante" moment for Crocodile in this AU.

But what the fuck would he do if he found out Pluton was in Wano?

Mind you, by this point the country would've been freshly taken over by Kaidou, and it's only been 2-5 years since Crocodile would've had his ass kicked by Whitebeard in the New World. Like that trauma would be Quite Fresh in his mind. I don't think Crocodile would be stupid enough to try to go to Wano. It'd be stupid fucking dangerous, and surely he'd know that. And not just in the "he could get killed by Kaidou" kind of way, but because surely Crocodile would realize Kaidou was sitting on top of Pluton as they spoke. Even if he didn't know about it yet, if Kaidou found out about Pluton being directly beneath his gigantic ass, it would be Fucking Bad. And thus going to the island with the only person on the planet who could reveal the exact location of the weapon would be a stupid ass move. (Of course, without the heir of the Kozuki Clan Pluton can't be released and Momo has just been yeeted into the future, so even if they did go they wouldn't be able to open the borders of Wano, but unless the Alabastan Poneglyph explained that then neither Robin or Crocodile would understand that)

So if Crocodile's only goal in life at this moment had been obtaining an Ancient Weapon so he could nuke the World Government and then go be with his son (since nothing in the world could threaten his child anymore and force Crocodile to keep his distance to keep him safe)... And he found out he was far, far too weak to even obtain that weapon... What would Crocodile do? Knowing he wouldn't be able to do what he wanted, that he wouldn't get to be with his son ever again?

(Mind you. There is a whole discussion to be had about whether or not Crocodile was suicidal during Impel Down/Marineford and if his petty revenge against Whitebeard was a borderline suicide mission. Because unironically I think there's like a 40-50% chance that could be the case. And I'm pointing this out because if Crocodile was canonically suicidal after failing to take over Alabasta, how would this scenario in this AU be different? Aside from the obvious time commitment, and the way Crocodile's traumas would be much more fresh at this point compared to canon)

Like. What can he do anymore? What's there left for him to do?

Fall into absolute despair and give up? Allow the royal guards to find and capture him, and let the WG throw him in jail for assassinating King Cobra for no reason? Or just kill himself on the spot because what would it matter, he'd die eventually anyways? God knows, even if he wanted to keep on opposing the WG, between the Dragodile Divorce (and however the fuck that might've played out) and Crocodile probably not approving of Dragon's methods for revolution (too idealistic, soft, and slow), ditching his Warlord-status and fully joining the Revolutionary Army wouldn't suit Crocodile either. He's a pirate, not some hero of justice. And he's never going to be strong enough to defeat the WG himself, all alone. That's what the Ancient Weapon was for to begin with.

So, what would he do now, when his final option had been crossed out, labeled impossible. Would death be the easy way out, and at least give him the peace of mind knowing his son could never be linked back to him and put into danger because of him?

But what would happen to Robin?

If Crocodile allowed himself to become captured and go to jail, Robin would be doomed too. Between his hatred of the Government and Robin being an innocent child, surely he didn't want the Government to get their hands on her, they'd just put her to death. But what else could he do? Tell her to run? Leave her to fend for herself all over again? Alone? Would he have it in him to tell her that?

Or would Crocodile's anger and spite at the Government be more powerful than his despair? Would he rather flee with Robin for now and figure things out later, when they're not in some ancient tombs with the corpse of a king where they could be found out any second and be in far deeper shit than they're already in?

And I think this is where we circle back to what Robin would do, first. Because even if Robin told Crocodile the truth, there's still multiple ways she could do that, and depending on how Robin went about it, that could influence Crocodile's reaction too, couldn't it?

If the two hadn't become too fond of each other yet, and Robin very calmly told Crocodile Pluton was in Wano, I think he could just become kind of catatonic in shock and horror, falling into despair. Maybe without saying a word he'd just walk out of the tombs straight to the guards without ever looking back. Abandoning Robin and leaving her running for her life again, alone.

But Robin is at this point a 12 year old child***

The sheer intensity of this situation could become too much for her. And if she had become fond of Crocodile, if despite everything she still wanted to stay with him because he had been the only source of safety she had had in three years... what if she just burst into tears, and told Crocodile she was afraid of him and what he might do to her because he might not like what the Poneglyph said? What would Crocodile do then? How would Crocodile react to that? To this child being not just brutally honest, but emotionally vulnerable and showing him that she WANTED to trust him? If Crocodile had been emotionally flipflopping between trying to remain emotionally unavailable to Robin because he didn't trust her, and trying to be caring (partially because he was intentionally trying to manipulate her and partially because he genuinely felt bad for her)... Would this become the moment Crocodile himself realizes he has to decide if he's going to be a cruel pirate who only cares about his son's safety, or be Robin's guardian? Either demand her to just spit it out if she knows what's good for her, or comfort her and tell her he would never hurt her regardless of what the Poneglyph said? And... almost regardless of what Crocodile would choose, could Robin's outburst still like... both soften the blow of the bad news and emotionally ground Crocodile? So that he wouldn't fall into despair?

If so... Guess the two would just have to flee then. Leave their hostage (be it the (unconcious???) pregnant queen or baby Vivi) behind, and just leave Alabasta. There'd be nothing left in that country for them anyways, nothing but people who could catch Crocodile and report him to the World Government for assasinating their King (mainly Shaka who could probably tell their king was murdered by a heavy smoker thanks to his DF and then realize it was Crocodile if he ever gotten within sniffing distance from him), leading to his Shichibukai Status to being stripped from him. Escaping and never coming back would be their priority.

Whatever the fuck would happen next is a bloody mystery though

Like IDK maybe, after getting over whatever emotional turmoil he'd be going through, Crocodile could start building an organization of some kind?? But this time with the intent of wrecking Kaidou's ass and taking over Wano himself????? (Roccoco Works wouldn't nececarily have to be a secret organization either since if he wanted to take over a non-WG Affiliated country from some pirate... He could just do that. The WG shouldn't care. He would have to be extremely careful though to make sure nobody ever found out his sweet little assistant/secretary Miss Sunday was actually Nico Robin. Also if he was the Rev Army's Secret Sugar Daddy he'd have to be extremely careful who he would hire to work for him. Like the hiring process would be extremely selective still, if not more-so than with BW?) Also he could spend a fuck ton of time just working out to get as swole as humanly possible. Because god knows he'll need to if he wanted to actually fight Kaidou and survive with all his limbs still in-tact. Maybe try to get friendly with Moria too knowing Moria has some serious beef with Kaidou and could be down for getting revenge one day. But mind you, this would be A Whole Process which would no doubt take years if not decades.

All while looking after Robin. Because he was all she had and he couldn't possibly abandon her now. He's in too deep.

And this is where my brain finally hits a brick wall with this AU, I can't imagine how shit would go down from here on. Because IDK, this whole thing started out more as a thought experiment (of "how would things be different if they met earlier") and the further you go down the timeline it stops being wild what if-speculation and more just a fanfic lmao

***(Look if I'm not wrong, the year Luffy was born Robin should be going 11 turning 12, right? (And Croc 27 -> 28). But if enough time has passed that Vivi has been born, well, Robin's birthday is a few days after Vivi's, so she could've turned 13 by now. Or hell, this whole shitshow of a scenario could take place on her birthday if you wanted to be really evil) (But if I'm wrong and Robin was 10 -> 11 the year Luffy was born, then she'd be around turning 12 at this point) (This shit is so complicated aaaaa 😭)

One more note because I might as well put them in the same post

So in my mind, if Crocodad Real IN GENERAL then it would make perfect sense to me if Crocodile's reason for wanting his funny little military nation and to obtain Pluton was to nuke Marijoa and just delete the World Government so his baby boy would be safe. Because god knows if the Government found out Dragon had a son (or that he had been involved with the Revs/plotted against them and that he had a son), that baby boy would become a target for the WG. Thus he couldn't even take his child with him and raise him like Bege or Big Mom did with their kids. Like it wasn't even an option. And because that's like my default headcanon already, I'm obviously applying it to this silly Crocodad AU.

But it raises a fun question; what would Crocodile tell baby Robin about his motivations?

Like, I can perfectly imagine Crocodile explaining to Robin that he hates the WG and wants to destroy them, and that not only would Robin be safe with him (not just in the "I won't hurt you or turn you in to the Marines, we're on the same side", or the "I'm stronk and can protect you from danger" way, but also "the WG can't find you if you're under my wing" way), but also if she helped him find an Ancient Weapon, she could help him defeat her greatest enemy for once and for all and become free herself.

And that's not a bad deal, now is it.

But even if Crocodile explained that to Robin when they'd first meet, just to get her to agree to coming with him, surely it would take Robin some time to actually start trusting Crocodile, after spending the past three years on the run. 'Cause in her mind, either the Government Approved Pirate was lying to get her guard down (so it'd be easier to hand her over to the WG), or the Government Approved Pirate was explicitly admitting to being a backstabber and couldn't be trusted. But hey Papadile could maybe win her trust with some time, plenty of books and maybe a few plushies

However.

I'm sure Robin would wonder WHY Crocodile wanted to destroy the World Government. And Crocodile sure as fucking hell would never tell her it was because he had a son, god knows he would not trust her with that information. I'm not sure if Robin would ask about Crocodile's motivations, and even if she did, I'm sure he'd find a way to respond in a truthful way without telling her anything (Like arguably he isn't free from the WG either, he can either play and pretend to be on their side until they decide they have no more use for him, or try to eliminate them first and ensure his own safety. So he could tell Robin that as an excuse) (Kill-or-Be-Killed is not a great life lesson to be teaching Nico Robin Age 12) And you know, not knowing why this Scary Pirate wants a weapon of mass destruction would raise alarm bells in anyone's mind. Robin isn't stupid.

And now we circle right back to the begining of this post. Again. This post is a fucking timeloop, there is no escape. What would Robin do when Crocodile would ask her to read him the Poneglyph. Because there is that option that she could try to ask him Crocodile why he wanted to destroy the WG, then and there. Possibly defiantly, possibly calmly, possibly with tears running down her little face because she's scared out of her mind and wants to have faith in her guardian, but is unsure because the situation she's found herself in is a train wreck and Croc's on thin ice. And would she start with the question right away, or would she first tell the truth and then, after seeing Crocodile's reaction, ask him about it? And would Crocodile tell her? The TL:DR; of it? That he had a son whom the WG would want dead if they ever found out about it, a son he wanted to protect? That that's what this all was about?

And how would Robin feel about such a revelation?

Because on one hand, it could be calming for her, to understand that Crocodile wasn't out for world domination like a cartoon villian or anything, that his motivations were actually understandable. He just wanted to protect his family. But on the other hand... if Robin had been (conciously or subconciously) hoping to find a father figure in Crocodile... would finding out that Crocodile had his own son, his own family somewhere out there... Would that knowledge break Robin? Because in her mind, even if she hadn't wished for it conciously, Crocodile could never become a father for her? Because if/when Crocodile would get what he wanted, he'd just go be with his son?

Keep in mind. Robin's core fears and trauma come from not just betrayal, but also abandonment. A fear of being alone. Even if it was for Robin's own sake, her mother left her behind. She wasn't able to find friends or community in Ohara at all, even with the people of the library she felt left out because they wouldn't allow her to participate in the Poneglyph research (understandable on their part) And even when Robin's uncle and his family "adopted" her, she was treated as an other in the family. An unwanted burden, a servant. Not a real member of the family.

Finding out Crocodile had a family he wanted to return to could in her mind mean she was going to become abandoned again, left behind to fend for herself. Even if the WG wasn't out to get her, that would still be absolutely soul crushing for a child. And even if Crocodile did decide to adopt Robin, would she not be afraid of being treated as an other in that family too, because she wasn't his daughter? That he'd never love her the way he'd love his own son?

How would the truth behind Crocodile's motivations actually make Robin feel?

And one final gut punch before I go:

Would Crocodile struggle with some kind of guilt and shame over looking after Robin when he had his son somewhere out there? Would he be beating himself up inside because he couldn't stop himself for caring so damn much about this poor kid, but didn't want to treat Robin like some kind of a replacement for his own child? And would those feelings get even worse after finding out he couldn't even get Pluton because the bloody thing was hiding under Kaidou's ass? Would Crocodile feel horrible about how he had to abandon his son seemingly forever and then found himself looking after some other child instead?

Also. If the Dragodile Divorce was bad, especially in the "Dragon wasn't particularly accepting" kinda way, and if Crocodile had this deep fear inside of him about whether or not his son would ever accept him as his other dad and/or be upset about not having a mom (a fear that could get worse over time since he wouldn't have been with his baby from the begining, that he'd have to show up in his child's life later, praying for acceptance and forgiveness for having to leave him behind)... Would Robin potentially expressing that she saw Crocodile as a father-figure kind of break Crocodile (in a good way)? Not just because of the gender affirmation (for the recently transitioned guy mind you), but also because it'd mean that there was at least one person in the world who looked at him and thought they wanted him as their father? And could that happiness then like ADD ON to whatever guilt Crocodile could also be feeling?

These two are such broken people. I can not help but to wonder if they'd be able to navigate through their complicated emotions and find the healing and comfort they both so desperately need.

Anyway yeah that's the post, hope you enjoyed The Thoughts

#Moon posting #OP Meta #Sir Crocodile #Nico Robin #Crocodad #Not sure I can say ''back due to popular demand'' but close enough I guess #I am just Haunted by Thoughts #This really got obscenely fucking long jesus christ #Feels wrong to tag this with Crocodad but this is an AU based on it and it's like relevant so??? It's there for blacklisting if nothing els #Good god my Activity Feed has Not Been The Same since I posted that fanart on my main though oh my god #I'm glad y'all enjoy this AU concept as much as I do. We can suffer emotionally together lmao

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jtl-fics · 1 year

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Fluent Freshman - Part 18

Weirdly enough the only thing that FF can think of as they head down the stairs is the first Saw movie.

That one happened IN a bathroom right? He kind of watched all of them in a row to prepare himself for whatever Andrew might decide to do to him. But he’s near positive that one happened in a bathroom. It was derelict and he didn’t think it really had running water (or did it? Didn’t the guy wake up in a half-full tub? His memory is hazy in his bathroom related desperation and may be trying to protect him from thinking about water).

All leading to the main thought going through his head as he slowly headed down the narrow stairway to his death.

Would Andrew let him use the facilities before he’s handcuffed to a pipe?

The worst part about all of this is that he is not sure if he needs to take a dump or if he just needs to fart, he knows he has to take a piss. He’s read that when you die your body will relax and it’ll all just flow out of you and Nicky gave him these pants so he feels bad but he also does not want to face his death without pants. If he needs to take a shit then they’re definitely going to be absolutely ruined, if it’s a fart well…Andrew can’t kill him any further? He can mutilate his corpse a little but FF won’t be around to experience it.

No matter what he’s definitely going to piss himself. He had way too much water at Sweeties trying to consume the spicy ice cream.

You may be wondering why FF has not run away from his predicament and is walking down these steps without protest or comment or plea for his life.

First of all he is pretty sure that if he makes any sudden movements he will ruin these pants that Nicky bought for him. Second of all Andrew had already told him once that he wouldn’t accept any pleading for mercy he still remembers how he asked Andrew, “Please give me back my pen?” and Andrew had shot him a look that had his stomach cramp and his fingers itch for the bottle sweet pink relief in his backpack.

“I don’t like that word, don’t use it around me.” He said.

FF ever the pragmatic sort, “Which one?” He had asked because he had said a few, “I don’t want there to be a misunderstanding.” He followed up with when Andrew glowered at him only for the glare’s intensity to increase 10 fold.

“Don’t use the first word of your first statement or the last word of your second.” Andrew grit out and got up to leave without a word.

Message received loud and clear Andrew did NOT like words ‘Please’ or ‘Misunderstanding’.

So FF knows that any pleading for mercy would ABSOLUTELY result in Andrew not letting him take a bathroom break before him and Captain Neil make destroying him into a couple activity. The fact that Captain Neil is here is a bit of a shock but maybe Captain Neil has finally gotten the other Freshman Dealer up to snuff.

Maybe Kevin really did want to dissect him to figure out how Strikers keep passing straight to him?

They reach the door at the bottom of the stairs.

Ah, time to face the music.

At least he’d texted Gran that he was going to die when they had gotten into the club and the bathroom had not made itself readily apparent. Sure it was about his current ‘gotta piss / gotta shit’ situation but he’d been wise to keep his cause of death vague in that text.

The door opens and…

This is the NICEST torture chamber FF has EVER seen. (And after his desperation watch of all the Saw movies he has seen quite a FEW)

“Minyard, Josten, and Guest. Table 6 is yours.” A voice comes from the side and when he looks over there’s a man in quite a nice uniform standing behind a soft-lit bar polishing a glass looking every bit like a bar tender at those high-end places you see in movies. He looks around a bit more and there are some other people down here. It’s not quiet per se but it is a comfortable level of noise in comparison to the IQ dropping noise upstairs.

“C’mon Smith.” Andrew juts his chin towards a table in the back.

FF follows but continues to try and fit this nice little room into his world view.

Do these people watch other people get tortured to death for fun on a Friday night? Unlikely considering the upholstery on the booths and chairs looked like it’d stain if blood got on it. Was this perhaps a trafficking location where Andrew would sell off his organs to the highest bidder? He looked at the other patrons who seemed a bit higher class than the general club scene upstairs but not like they had the money to buy one of his kidneys. Maybe-

“Do not tell Nicky about this place, ever.” Andrew says as they slide into the booth. FF nods but can’t help but tilt his head slightly in an unspoken question, “He would absolutely tell any and everyone about it. Eden’s wants to keep this place a secret from the general public.” Andrew explains.

“Nicky currently thinks that there’s a straight swingers club down here.” Captain Neil says with a huff of laughter.

“Eden’s is cool, even though there’s some sick shit in the basement.” Floats through his head again.

What the fuck was a swinger?

His fingers itch for his phone but he’s currently talking with Andrew and Captain Neil so that’d be rude but they’re talking to him like he absolutely knows what a swinger is and he DOES NOT.

“It’s quieter down here. Figured you’d prefer it.” Andrew says as he gets up and heads towards the bar down here where the bartender was aggressively cutting ice chunks.

He and Captain Neil sit in silence for a few seconds before Captain Neil offers him a slight smile, “I know you’d rather be with your grandma and you and Andrew prefer not to say things out loud but we’ve really liked hanging out with you.” Captain Neil says.

????????????????????????????????????????????????

That’s such a nice thing to say to someone.

Especially someone like FF.

Especially especially when they’re planning on killing him?

He hopes his confusion stays off his face as he nods once. “It’s been fun.” It’s not even really a lie. Thanksgiving yesterday had been nice and loud and FF had missed the chaos of a Family Dinner more than he had ever realized. The car ride had been…a time but once he’d asked Andrew to either keep his eyes on the road or let him out Andrew’s hands had stayed at 10 and 2 and the ride had been smooth. Aaron and Nicky’s weight against him had been nice too, a warm memory before he developed a possible life long aversion to whipped cream. He’d gotten to go Black Friday shopping and Captain Neil even helped carry it home for him. Baking bad been nice even if the stress of doing it with his life on the line was less so. The subsequent nap and day spent doing normal college guy things had been…it’d all been nice.

It’s starting to feel like….

“Drink this.” Andrew puts a drink down in front of him.

No Andrew definitely wants his bladder to burst.

“What is it?” He asks instead looking at the creamy looking drink with suspicion.

Andrew rolls his eyes as he hands Neil a fruity looking drink as he sits with what is a few fingers of scotch. “It’s virgin.” Andrew says not answering the question at all and must pick up that FF won’t be drinking it until he gets the full answer because he continues after a moment, “It’s like a Pina Colada but with bananas instead.” Andrew answers.

It’s not that FF hates banana but why in the world would Andrew grab him this? Was it just one of the few virgins options on this place’s fancy menu or-

“Bananas will help get your stomach acid back down.” Andrew says, “Since you’re an idiot and ate that mango ice cream just because you wanted to impress that girl.” He rolls his eyes.

“Impress that girl?” There weren’t any girls at the table and how in the world would him eating that god-forsaken spicy ice cream impress anyone other than Betsy. Even Betsy would only be impressed by the depths he was willing to reach just to avoid what he perceives as an awkward social situation.

“The waitress.” Neil reminds him as if that cleared anything up.

“Yeah,” he says as if he has understood the conversation but he has not. “It was spicy mango.” He says because maybe if he keeps the conversation going he’ll get enough context clues to understand what might be his last conversation.

Andrew let out a huff of laughter and pushed FF’s drink closer to him, “Drink your fancy Banana smoothie Casanova.” He says.

No closer to understanding the conversation he accepts that it might be something that only becomes clear after he sheds his mortal coil and is no longer given a -10 INT debuff by his full bladder and revolting stomach.

He takes a sip.

Oh that’s actually pretty good.

It feels like he can feel it sizzling in his stomach and soothing the discomfort there. Maybe he should look into Banana smoothies as a replacement for what Abby has called a ‘concerning co-dependence’ in regards to Pepto Bismol. No one can put him on a medical watch if it’s just banana smoothies he’s chugging down like they’re going out of style.

“Thanks,” he says, “that was good.” He admits before reaching into his jacket and moving past the Megamind toy and grabbing his wallet. “What do I owe you for that?” He asks.

“We’re even.” Andrew waves away the money.

“You bought the stuff for breakfast, those brownies, and the pie tomorrow.” Neil says and FF blinks surprised to hear that they were talking about the pie he didn’t think he was going to get the chance to make.

“You don’t need to buy a spot with us.” Andrew says and FF leans back slightly at the intensity on Andrew’s face as he says it. “I invited you here because I wanted to. The brownies were good but if you don’t feel like making the pie tomorrow? It’s not like I’m going to drive you back to Palmetto and leave you on Abby’s doorstep.” He says.

FF feels gears start to turn in his head.

“It’s good pie.” He hears himself say.

“I didn’t even know about the pie when I invited you.” Andrew says and…

Andrew and FF sit in silence but honestly it’s not like Andrew’s sharpening his knives. The two of them mostly just do their own work or read. FF has been getting his German literacy up to snuff so that he can read the language when he goes there to visit Nicky’s fiance next year. He likes how serious Andrew is about learning it so that he doesn’t have to ask Captain Neil a thousand questions and it’d be nice if Andrew wasn’t obviously planning on murdering him.

Andrew brings dried apples and sends Captain Neil along with probiotic yogurts to their meetings. Both of those things tend to soothe his stomach and the yogurt that had been unflavored before was now vanilla which he liked a fair bit. It would have been a really nice gesture if it wasn’t for the fact that Andrew was making fun of his tummy troubles.

Andrew will put his foot down in practice sometimes when Kevin is getting too demanding wanting to know exactly how FF intercepted his passes to Neil. Kevin always backs off and Andrew will do the same when Jack starts to get a little too personal in his attacks at FF or when Sheena decides she’s going to be a bitch. It’d be nice if it wasn’t Andrew staking his claim that he was the one who was going to make FF’s life miserable.

Andrew drove FF around for an hour after Greg had shown up. He found out later from one of his friends that Andrew had threatened Greg after he had power walked away into the building. Andrew had driven him around and had only started heading towards the tower when FF had relaxed. It would have been nice if Andrew wasn’t trying to lure him into a false sense of security.

Andrew had invited him to his Family’s house over Thanksgiving when the bad storm had ruined his Thanksgiving plans. Andrew had threatened Jack to stop him from eating his Grandma’s pie and complaining about it. Andrew had stopped messing around with Captain Neil when FF had made it clear he was uncomfortable being in a car where the driver wasn’t paying attention to the road. Andrew had twice made him go to bed in the last couple hours.

It’d be nice if…

“We’ve really liked hanging out with you” Captain Neil had said.

Andrew was just trying to be nice.

Embarrassment rolls over him like a wave but FF has many years of pretending like he’s not going to die from embarrassment, “Thanks for inviting me. I’ll still probably make the pie tomorrow.” He offers.

Andrew’s eyes change slightly and FF is under the impression that he’s happy to hear that.

“Just enjoy your drink Smith.” Andrew says.

FF does go back to sipping his drink and letting more and more memories of things Andrew had done come to him and lets his embarrassment grow.

He finishes his drink and only then realizes that he is a code red in terms of bladder capacity. The new knowledge that this is not a torture chamber but in fact yet another overture of friendship from Andrew paired with his desperation finally loosens the question from his mouth, “Where’s the bathroom here?” He asks.

“There isn’t one downstairs but just head up stairs and hug the wall to the left.” Captain Neil answers.

“Bring your phone. If Frank doesn’t recognize you to let you back in.” Andrew reminds him.

FF nods and heads out of the club and up the stairs.

He might be doing a bit of a potty dance so he forces himself to become unnoticeable because he does not need cool people at a cool club to see him about to piss himself. Once he enters into a stealth mode that the United States Military would like to talk to him about he hugs the wall and nearly cries tears of relief when he sees a door labelled MEN.

He doesn’t think about the possibility of letting up on stealth mode because he is sure that he is about to make a face that he does NOT want any human being to see when he unzips his pants and starts to take the world’s most life-affirming piss on the planet.

As his bladder empties his brain is able to process the understanding that he had come to down in the basement he had thought would be his final resting place.

Andrew has been trying to be nice (and succeeding it was all so nice! He feels like an asshole! He is an asshole! Gran always told him that assuming makes an Ass out of U and Me. He had just thought it was funny grandma humor not valuable life advice!)

The night wasn’t going to end with Andrew’s knife in his stomach, it was probably just going to end with Nicky puking on his shoes (which is fine because these are the shoes Nicky was letting him borrow for the club anyways, they’re his shoes to puke onto.)

A secondary relief fills his system. His stomach, soothed by the Banana smoothie and now this, feels like it might actually let him live through the night.

While FF was distracted with a piss that would have made any number of cult leaders jealous with the number of divine revelations he was experiencing he failed to notice a second man enter the bathroom.

There was a reason that FF always ALWAYS became noticeable when he was at a urinal and the man who came to the urinal right next to him was showcasing that VERY reason.

He was trapped here for at least ten more seconds and he could hear the man grumbling distractedly but didn’t really pay it too much attention until…

“Fucking Wesninski Brat.” He grumbled under his breath.

Oh god dammit.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242 @whataboutmyfries @sahturnos @pluto-pepsi @dreamerthinker @passinhosdetartaruga @leftunknownheart @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme @tayspots @nick-scar @crazy-fangirl2524 @blue-jos10 @stabbyfoxandrew @splishsplashyouropinionistrash @sammichly @the-broken-pen @bitchesdoweknowu @very-small-flower @ghostlyboiii @its-a-paxycab @bisexual-genderfluid-fan @cheesecookie @theoneandonlylostsock @foxsoulcourt @blueleys @adverbialstarlight @elia-nna @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner @nikodiangel @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat @hallucinatedjosten @satanic-foxhole-court @vexingcosmos @chalilodimun @insectsgetcooked @angry-kid-with-no-money @queer-crows @lillyndra @themugglemudperson @readertodeath @apileofpillows @mortalsbowbeforeme @hellomynameismoo @next-level-mess @youreonlylow @interstellarfig @notprocrastinatingatalltoday @percyjacksonfan3 @queenofcrazy27 @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares @spencellio @adinthedarkroom @harpymoth @sufferingjustalilbit @anxietymoss @oddgreyhound @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken @ken22789 @atiredvampire @isoldescorner @not--a--pipedream @azure-wing @bushbees @roonilwazlib-main @crumplelush @foldedaces-paperbirds @thesenseinnonsense @let-tyrants-fear

#Fluent Freshman AU #FINALLY CAN PUT DOWN MY TAGS #You have no idea the number of times that I had to sing hollaback girl to myself during this #It was B-A-N-A-N-A-S #We have now closed the 'Andrew is going to crazy murder me' emotional arc #The 'Oh god if Andrew or Neil find out that I know Russian they're going to stop being my friends and hate me' arc begins #He's gotten a confirmed 3 friends today #And he got to go to the bathroom #He's riding a high #Not only is it 3 friends it is 3 friends who like him enough to invite him to spend the holiday break together #That's so nice #Andrew is so nice #FF cannot BELIEVE he thought Andrew 'eat these dried apples' Minyard was going to stab him #Captain Neil is lucky to have him #Also Andrew is lucky to have Captain Neil #Neil and Andrew are definitely down in the Speakeasy right now enjoying FF's bathroom break #Andrew's ordered FF another round of Banana daiquiri #Andrew: I can't believe he ate that ice cream. His stomach must have been killing him.#Neil: Yeah he was really pale and sweaty until he started drinking that banana drink #Neil: I'm a little worried about Smith finding the bathroom. Maybe I should go up?#Andrew hand on Neil's thigh: he'll be fine. We can go look if he's not back in 10.#AFTG AU #AFTG OC #AFTG #AFTG Shitpost #AFTG Fic #My Fic #Andreil #FF - Pt.18

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jess-the-vampire · 27 days

Note

Did you ever get around to what happens in watching and dreaming for Arofam?

maxchatt200: I don’t mean like comic wise I meant like have you made any plans regarding watching and dreaming?

Yes and no, I have some ideas I definitely want to do but there are still kinks I need to work out to make things make sense.

Cause there are also things that I logically can't do the same way, given where the characters are in comparison. Like hunter can't be killed by belos for example, because that would make no sense in this context, so if i were to say, do titan hunter, i would need a completely different reason for him to exist.

So parts of it are ready and parts are still bring developed I'd say atm. I think I'm finally getting somewhere with it though that I have a rough idea of where to go with it.

Some of those ideas have already been put out there.

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bixels · 13 days

Note

Why do you answer questions out of order?

Most asks I receive are repeats that I've already answered. I'm not really keen on clogging my blog with repeat ask posts. Some of them I do wanna answer but require more social energy so it takes time. It's like answering an email sometimes.

#ask me #anon #love receiving asks from you guys but half of these in my inbox are variants of “is scrimbly bingly gonna be in the mlp 1920s au”#“are you gonna design glizzy gulper (idw comics issue 87 page 7 bottom left panel) for gg20s?”#and my answer is always either “yes eventually” or “idk probably not.”#and a lot are also asks that don't really warrant an answer. some are just someone telling me info. some are drawing requests #(which i don't do). some are asking for my opinion on something that i don't really feel like sharing #i'm an introvert with adhd who enjoys maintaining a private persona online guys. i'm already doing The Most i can.

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tblsomedoodles · 2 years

Photo

Adopted at first sight

More Adopted Mikey au b/c i promised more today. But quick b/c i have work in like 10 minutes

toddler mikey accidentally ends up in 2003 verse (the 2003 boys are 20) and Raph finds him alone in the sewers (probably near where Rise lived but it’s empty. Except for a crying turtle tot). Raph DOES spend time looking for Mikey’s family, but after several hours and no luck he basically adopts him.

also bonus comics b/c this is the soul reason i came up with this au

proud grandpa splinter : )

#tmnt #tmnt 2003 #rottmnt #tmnt raph 2003 #rise mikey #tmnt donny 2003 #tmnt splinter 2003 #adopted au #my doodles #i really have to go to work now #i'll probably go over mikey's life with them at some point #but i'm really enjoying newly adopted mikey rn #so that's what you get

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harundraws · 7 months

Text

Vampire Taivan Vampire Taivan Vampire Taivan Vampire Tai--- the comic is based on @novelconcepts vampire au yj fanfic !!

👉🏼the link to novelconcepts’ post to the fic ✨

SOOO since i couldn't finish this during halloween (it was a spontaneous decision... i didn't even mean to draw a comic, the pages just started appearing... !!!!) i decided to not rush w/this and wow would you look at that, the pages doubled (4) but right now here's the first 2!

#yellowjackets #taivan #taissa turner #van palmer #novelconcepts #fic art #yellowjackets fanfic #harun art #aaaa this took way longer than i meant to #it was supposed to be doodle-ish but it's somewhere between polished and sketch-y dfjijfg #granted i was also working during the days.... well NIGHTS i drew these #BUT YEAY the first two pages are finally post worthy lmao #i'm just.... A BIG FAN #the way the au feels so.... NATURAL for these two #and i just really enjoy how you write tai and van #i'll stop here so i don't spoil incase someone wants to read the fic asjifgjog

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hearts401 · 7 months

Text

A Shitty Brother Kinda Christmas

(7,441 words)

Evan invites Michael over for Christmas after not speaking to him for over two years now. Shenanigans ensue

Michael was cold.

He was also annoyed and bored and excited and the slightest bit nervous.

But right now, he was just cold.

He was sitting out in the middle of nowhere waiting for a bus that had either already come or was nearly a half an hour late.

He was praying it was the latter.

It didn’t help that he’d had literally no time to prepare. Evan had called him at six in the morning and he’d had to rush to find a gift and means for transportation and it didn’t help that everything was closed for Christmas. So he’d thrown on the only coat he had and went for the first bus he could catch. Now he was stuck out in the snow waiting for a bus that might not even arrive.

But some things were worth getting hypothermia for.

Unfortunately for Michael, this was not feeling like one of those things. But it was a second chance, and he’s fucked up too much to give up on a second chance. Frankly, when Evan had asked for his number, he’d already expected not to hear from him ever again, and he’d made peace with that. As much peace as he could at least. It wasn’t something he thought about a lot, and he doubted Evan thought about it much either.

But today his head’s been full of it, as unpleasant as that is.

When the bus finally pulled up, the driver assured him that the snow was what caused the delay, and apologized profusely. Michael didn’t care, he was just glad it came at all.

The bus was almost entirely empty, which made his life a lot easier. He clicked on his phone, not that there was anything to look at. It was Christmas, after all.

When Evan had invited him, he’d known it would be disappointing to Jeremy; He always looked forward to Christmas, but he promised they’d have their own little Christmas when he got back, but this was the first time he’d spoken to Evan in… Forever. His little brother had a house for god’s sake! A house! And he lived with his friend! That friend who’d punched Michael, the friend who always let Evan stay over his house, the friend he’d totally definitely not gotten into a fist fight with more than once all because of his own stubborn attitude.

So yeah, Michael was a jerk. But in his defense, Gregory was stubborn too.

His phone pinged and he picked it up. It was Evan again. Geez, why did he keep calling? Michael had already agreed, he didn’t want to talk to him right now, not yet.

But he can’t keep putting it off, and he doesn’t wanna seem like he’s avoiding Evan. (Even though he is, technically.)

“Hello? Hello, hello?” He said, “What’s up?”

“It’s me.” Evan said, “Just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay? I’m really sorry it’s such short notice.”

“It’s whatever.” Michael replied, “The bus was late though.”

“It’s Christmas, that’s expected.” Evan replied.

This was weird. Not a bad weird, but not a good weird either.

“Yeah.” Is all he said, “Uhm, is there anything else you need? The service here is ass.”

“Uh, no, I was calling to tell you if the bus hadn’t come to just forget it because I didn’t want you to keep waiting. It’s cold outside.”

“No shit.” He said with a dry laugh, “I’m gonna go now. Bad service, you know how it is.”

“Oh? O-Okay, yeah, bye.” Evan said.

“Bye.” Michael said before hanging up and sitting back against the seat.

“Shitty service?” He mumbled to himself, “Idiot.”

“Well, that sucked.” Elizabeth said. She was hanging decorations she’d brought since their house wasn’t “Christmas ready” in her words.

“He’s probably just tired.” Charlie said, “I’m sure he’s happy you invited him.”

“Well maybe the invitation isn’t what’s got him in the dumps and maybe it’s more the timing?” Elizabeth said.

Evan shrunk back, “I really didn’t notice how close it was getting to Christmas, I just… I couldn’t decide if I wanted to invite him…”

Elizabeth shrugged, “Fair, I guess. I usually invite him over but he spends his Christmas with his friends a lot.”

“His friends?” Charlie asked, “Jeremy?”

“And those other kids from middle school.”

Evan scrunched up his nose, “He still hangs out with those guys?”

“Yeah?” Elizabeth climbs down the small step ladder she was on, “They’re his friends.”

Evan huffs, “Yeah, I know.” He mutters.

Charlie offers a small smile at him, nudging him, “He’s not bringing any of them, it’s just him, Ev.” She says, “I’m sure everything will be okay.”

He nods slowly, “Yeah, yeah I guess.”

“Hey, Evan?” Gregory calls from the other room where he’s helping Sammy set up for dinner.

“O-oh, yeah?”

“Why does Michael do that weird ‘hello? Hello, hello?’ thing?”

Evan blinked, “I… I don’t know, actually.”

“Oh my god he does that all the time I don’t think he even realizes it!” Elizabeth said, “It drives me insane!”

Charlie laughed, “Yeah, Sammy says he does it every time he calls him.”

“He does!” Sammy said, “Every time. I asked him about it once and he was just as confused as me! He just does it. It’s like an instinct.”

Gregory laughed too, “That is funny as hell I’m never letting him live that down.”

“Oh, speaking of living things down,” Evan hopped off his bed and headed to the kitchen, “You’re gonna be on your best behavior. If you and him fight, I’m sticking you both outside.”

“If you put me outside with him I’ll bury him alive in the snow.” Gregory said.

“I’m serious.” Evan said, “I don’t want you fighting with him.”

It’s not that Evan didn’t appreciate Gregory standing up for him, but it was stressful. He didn’t want his friend hurt for him, and he certainly didn’t want to spend Christmas breaking up his brother and his best friend.

Gregory looked over at Evan, “Yeah, of course.” He said, “No fighting.”

“And that means no punching, kicking, swearing, snapping, pushing, shoving-”

“Okay, okay, okay, no fighting.” Gregory said, “But he needs to back off sometimes, I’m gonna let him know.”

“I can let him know.” Evan said, “We’re going to have a nice Christmas like a family!”

They all turned to look at him.

“We’re going to have a nice Christmas like a… decent dysfunctional patchwork family…” He rephrased, “I-I guess.”

Gregory laughed at that, “It’ll be fun, I’m sure.”

“I wish you could’ve invited Nessa,” Evan said, “I’m sure she’d have loved to meet Mike.”

When Michael finally arrived, he was met with the entire house laughing at him. Even Evan couldn’t hide his amusement at seeing his brother pull up to his house soaking wet and shaking like a leaf.

“You look great.” Sammy said.

“Piss off.” Michael muttered.

“Come inside, you look like you’re gonna freeze to death.” Charlie said.

“I feel like it too.” Michael muttered.

They brought him inside and Evan found himself suddenly regretting every decision that led up to this.

He felt sick, and he realized with a shock that there was a reason he had avoided Michael. He didn’t know what to say to him, what to do with him, or what to talk about. What do you say to your big brother who you ghosted for nearly two years after getting his number? What do you say to the person who ruined your life? What do you say to the person who treated you like shit and almost killed you and only formally apologized a couple years ago?

Gregory must have noticed because he discreetly led Evan back to his room and sat down with him.

“Not ready?” He asked.

“Not at all.” He said, flopping onto his back.

“What is it?” Gregory asked, laying down beside him.

“I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him in forever and I was cool with that but then we did talk again and then we split up again and I just… How can I never speak to him again after that? How can I not give him at least a chance to be better? But at the same time… I don’t want to talk about The Thing, and I don’t want to bring it up but I can’t move on if I don’t and I feel sick thinking about it because what if it goes wrong? What if I fuck it up? What if he fucks it up? What if all this bullshit was for nothing this whole time and I’m just gonna end up hating him more than I already do?”

Gregory listens intently, staring at Evan, “You know, I told you not to invite him.”

“I know but-”

He continues speaking, interrupting Evan, “But! You insisted. Why?”

“Because I want to give him another shot.” Evan said.

“And he came because…” Gregory raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“Because he wants to take that shot.” Evan said, slowly understanding.

“So, you want to give him a chance? You don’t have you, you don’t owe anything to him, especially forgiveness. Do you wanna cut this short? Nobody would blame you if you did. I sure as hell wouldn’t.”

Evan sits up, “I guess.”

Gregory smiles, “Why don’t you take some time, dinner’s not done yet. Nobody’s rushing you, and I’m sure Michael is just as nervous. The only difference is that he deserves it.”

Evan laughs a bit at that, “Be nice.” He said.

“No promises!” Gregory called as he walked out of the room.

Frankly, Gregory was right. Michael was just as nervous. In fact, he wanted to curl up in a ball and sink into a hole and die right about now. He didn’t know where to sit so he ended up standing awkwardly off to the side.

Unfortunately for him, Sammy was quick to act like he owned the place. Gregory and him were like siblings, to be fair.

“Come on Mike, sit down.” Sammy said, “What’s wrong, are you nervous?”

“No. Not at all.” He muttered, “I just prefer standing.”

“Yeah, well, you look out of place with the Christmas decorations and I need to take photos so unless you wanna be my santa clause, I suggest you move.” Elizabeth said.

“You're as blunt as ever.” He muttered.

“Thanks, I try my best.” She replied with a grin.

He sat down next to Sammy, pulling out his phone, only to have Charlie grab it away from him, ignoring the indignant noise he made.

“Aw, Jeremy? Are you guys dating yet?” She teased.

“Wha- no! Give that back!” He lunged, reaching for it, but she snatched it away too quickly.

“Come on, Mike, you’ve gotta have something interesting in your life, how’s my dad?”

“Uncle Henry’s doing fine.” He answered as he continued to chase her around, “Give it back Charlie!”

“What pictures do you have? Aw, is that your dog?” Charlie pulled up a picture.

“No, it’s Jeremy’s! Now give it back!”

“What’s its name?” She asked.

Michael looked over at Elizabeth and exaggeratedly gestured at Charlie, but she just laughed at him.

“She missed messing with you, this is your own fault.” She said.

“She’s right, messing with Evan isn’t as fun. He doesn’t get mad like you do.” Charlie said.

Michael scowled at her, but he couldn’t deny that it made him feel a lot better though.

When Gregory and Evan returned, Michael offered a smile and a small wave at Evan, that his brother slowly returned.

Evan was pale, but Michael didn’t mention it; He probably was too. Although that could just be from sitting out in the snow for half an hour.

He was still a bit upset about that.

Elizabeth invited him to sit beside her, which ended up sticking him right beside Evan, who had Gregory on his other side, who had Sammy next to him, and then Charlie beside him, and then it came full circle back to Elizabeth.

Great, cool, cool cool cool cool cool. This could go one of two ways:

One, it goes horrible and awful and everything that could go wrong does go wrong.

Or two, it goes fine and Michael’s overreacting.

But he could tell Evan was uncomfortable, and the tension was uncomfortable for him as well.

He took a breath before standing abruptly, “Actually, I ate at home and I could totally just grab a hotel or something so I’m gonna-”

“You’re not leaving.” Evan said.

Michael turned to him, “I’m sorry what?”

Evan shrunk back, “I-I just mean- you can stay here. Uhm… Unless you really don’t want to which is fine but you know you should stay here with us because it’ll make it easier and honestly who sleeps in a hotel on Christmas Eve I mean-”

“Okay! Okay. That- we can do that, that’s fine.” Michael said. He sat back down slowly, staring hard at his plate.

“And I can tell you didn’t eat at home.” Evan said, “I don’t like that you’re lying to me.”

Michael doesn’t reply to that, shrugging.

Evan’s eyebrows furrow, but he doesn’t say anything else. Gregory leans in next to him and whispers something, though.

So it went bad. Not awful, but bad. Michael didn’t eat much, but the food was good. Henry knew how to cook, and it seemed like he’d taught the twins how to cook as well.

Elizabeth leans back in her chair, “So, now that we’ve invited Michael, who wants to send a call to dear old dad? I have his number.”

Evan groans, “Not again with this…”

“Please, please Evan it would be so funny please.” Gregory shot up in his chair, “Please you didn’t let me do it to Michael let me do it to your dad.”

“Do what to Michael?” Michael asked.

“They wanted me to prank call you guys and send you random shit. Gregory, my dad will find and kill us all. I hope you know that.”

Prank call his dad? Prank call the William Afton?

“No wait I like this idea, Ev, we should do it one hundred percent.” Michael said.

“See? He agrees.” Elizabeth said.

Evan rolled his eyes, “You guys are the worst.”

“We’re the best actually.” Charlie said, “And it’s uhhhh… five against one.”

Evan sighed, “Do what you want. I need to set up our room anyway.”

Charlie cheered.

“I actually think I’m still in his contacts.” Michael said, “He keeps texting me, I don’t read 'em though.” He didn’t tell them that he repeatedly hesitated and refused to block his dad for a reason he himself couldn’t fathom. But to be fair, Lizzie hadn’t blocked him either. In fact, she still messaged him back sometimes. Even if the conversations weren’t friendly, he couldn’t imagine talking to his dad ever again, he didn’t know how she did it.

“And we don’t wanna start today, let’s use Charlie’s phone.” Sammy said.

They spent the night sending random images to William until he blocked them, and then they went on to relentlessly call Jeremy, who had apparently been asleep, before they went on to call Gregory, and stayed on call with him while he and Evan set up.

It was weird how normal this was. It was weird how quickly it had become just spending Christmas together instead of unloading 15 years of bullying and 21 years of loathing.

But then again, they were the Afton family, pretending to be normal was their whole thing. They did it for the first eighteen years of Michael’s life.

But he could sit back and enjoy this before the incredibly uncomfortable conversation that was inevitable. If him and Evan would quit avoiding it.

Gregory then came in to let them know the room was ready.

Sitting down in Evan’s house was one thing. Sleeping in it was a whole other thing. He felt like a teen again, when his dad was in the hospital for one of his springlock accidents and Michael had to stay with Henry while he was gone. That had sucked. His dad hadn’t wanted to bring him over Henry’s house, so he hardly knew Charlie and Sammy, and because of that he’d felt so out of place in their house. Not to mention his siblings were there, and by then he was sick to death of them.

Thinking back on it, he did have a lot of issues as a kid. Maybe he still had them. Who was he to dwell on it, though.

Michael Afton has issues, like that’s news.

This time he made a point to sit beside Elizabeth. She wasn’t the best choice, but she was the only one who still messaged him. Despite how she acted, she always wanted a family. But she got the Aftons, which is more like a classification than a family.

She gave him a disappointed look, but he ignored it.

The decorations in the room were really cool. They had lights strung up on the walls and they’d put up blankets to hang over them, as well as covering up the window. The floor was layered with blankets and pillows, and Michael noticed it looked like a nest.

He had taught Evan how to make nest-like pillow forts when he was only four. Michael had been seven, and hadn’t even been good at teaching, but Evan had really enjoyed it. Michael hadn’t enjoyed teaching him, but it kept the kid quiet and that’s all he’d needed. But this fort was obviously not a product of his teaching, since it was unlikely Evan remembered that.

Weird that he’d remember that. It felt like a karmic “fuck you” from the universe.

Evan was really enjoying this. He didn’t feel as anxious anymore, and it felt almost normal. He had been preoccupied with everything else to think about The Thing and it made him feel a lot better about it. He was also proud of the pillow fort, which Gregory had helped with a lot. They’d had it planned for a while, and he was glad it turned out so well.

Good food, good bed, good friends, and so far no issues with Michael. None that he wanted to talk about yet, at least.

This was a good day! A great day! And hopefully a great Christmas day would follow!

He was quick to pull his friends into it and talk to them about it. He loved how cozy it looked. Like a shiny little nest. It was awesome and he loved it so much.

“Wait. Wait! I need my camera!” He went out to the kitchen, “Gregory? Do you know where I put my camera?”

“I put it in the end table drawer! The bottom one, next to the couch!” Gregory called back.

“Awesome. Thank you!” He grabbed it and ran back into the room, “Mike get in the back you’re the tallest, Gregory and Charlie, I need you guys up front. Elizabeth, get closer to Mike, come on. Sammy, you’re perfect there don’t move. It’s on a ten second timer so hold that for a moment!”

He ran over to them, positioning himself beside Michael and behind Gregory.

He went to grab his camera when it was done, smiling at the picture, “It looks awesome, I can’t wait to print it.” He said.

The others crowded over to see.

“You’re pretty good at sitting still and looking pretty.” Charlie teased Michael, “It’s your one redeeming quality.”

Michael shoved her face away with his hand, “Oh piss off.”

“He said the thing again!” Sammy cheered, “He said it earlier too. I feel like I’m in England every time I talk to him.”

“Did I tell you guys about that time Evan screamed ‘you cunt’ at the top of his lungs?” Gregory said.

“No! No! You promised you wouldn’t tell them about that!” Evan wails, grabbing Gregory’s arm.

“He was playing a racing game or something and he just lost big time. Huge time. Horribly. Awful. It was embarrassing.”

“Gregory!”

“And he just shouted at the top of his lungs. In the most British I’ve ever heard him, it was insane.” Gregory continues, “He had to apologize to our neighbors. It was hilarious.”

Evan covered his face, “It was awful, I felt so bad.” He groaned.

Michael chuckled, “That’s funny, Lizzie was always the one who used British slang. She got it from our father.”

Elizabeth shoved him playfully, “Okay Mr. I-Say-Bloody-Hell-And-Piss-Off-Every-Five-Seconds.”

“Pi- leave me alone!” Michael said indignantly.

“He almost said it again!” Charlie said, laughing.

“Jeez, you people are impossible.” He said.

At that moment, his phone rang. “Oh, shit, it’s Jeremy. I’ll be right back!”

Evan watched Michael leave, his head tilted slightly to the side.

Gregory nudged him, “Feel better?”

“A bit… Thanks.” He answered.

Gregory smiled, “I told you it’d be okay.”

Evan nodded, “I’m stressing out a bit still but I do feel better. Maybe I was just overreacting.”

“Mike is being super weird though.” Elizabeth said, “He’s not usually like this with his friends.”

“Well duh,” Charlie said, “he’s overthinking just as much as Evan is. He’s just shit at hiding it because he’s not a ball of fear and sadness the way Evan is.”

Evan frowned, “Well I wish he’d just act normal. I don’t like that he keeps lying to me. He makes everything harder than it has to be.”

Charlie hummed, “He’s just scared. Like a little animal in the woods.”

Evan couldn’t stop his sudden and loud laughter at that.

But he did feel angry. He wasn’t going to say it, he wasn’t sure he was ready to say it, but he felt it. Michael wasn’t even trying.

“I’m gonna use the bathroom real quick.” He told Gregory.

Michael knew the call wasn’t Jeremy. He also knew it would end long before he wanted it to. It’d been one of his friends from middle school, and they had hung up several minutes ago. But he liked the silence while it lasted.

“So, you’re avoiding me?” Evan asked from directly beside him.

Michael jumped with a shout, nearly falling off the couch.

“Jesus Christ, Evan!” He gasped, “Don’t do that!”

Evan didn’t react, “Whatcha doin’?”

“Sitting… on the couch?”

Evan’s eyebrows furrowed. He looked like Dad when he did that.

“No, actually,” he said, “you’re being a bum. Alone on Christmas? Come on, we’re heading to bed now.”

Michael nodded, “Yeah, okay.”

They spent the night doing random things. Charlie told some scary stories, they watched a movie, Michael showed them his playing card collection and Evan beat Gregory at war at least ten times, and Elizabeth got a whole console out and they played a few different games.

Of course, the tension did not leave. Everytime he accidentally bumped into Evan or one of them said something a little too… Iffy… it only got thicker.

When he looked over at his little brother, he noticed he was asleep. Him and everyone else.

Well, except for one.

“Can’t sleep?” Gregory asked.

Michael shrugged, “Who can sleep on Christmas Eve?”

Gregory eyed the others, “Them, apparently.”

Michael chuckled, “Yeah, I guess so.” He said.

They fell silent, and Michael laid down on his back, staring at the blankets hung above him.

“You know I don’t want you here, right?”

“Yeah. I know.”

“But he does. Don’t ruin that for him. Or Elizabeth. She said she’s been trying to get you to come over for Christmas.”

Michael stares at him, “I don’t talk to her a lot, I thought she was just being nice.”

“She was.” Gregory said, “I don’t doubt she was. But she still likes talking to you. I don’t know, don’t you think maybe she actually cared if she asked every year?”

Michael scoffed, “I told her every year that I spend my Christmas with Jeremy. Or Henry.”

“Speaking of Henry, what’s he doing for Christmas if Charlie and Sammy aren’t there?”

Gregory sat up, “Charlie said He remarried or something.”

“Really?” Michael said, “That’s… He didn’t tell me that…”

“I might be wrong but that’s what I heard.”

“Hm.”

Gregory looked over at him, “You’re kind of a loser, you know that?”

Michael stared at him for a moment before he burst out laughing.

Gregory shushed him, “You’re gonna wake them up, shut your mouth!” He hissed.

Michael flopped over on his back, still laughing, though he tried to keep quiet, “You are incredibly blunt.”

“Well, to be fair, I don’t particularly like you very much,” Gregory said.

“I can tell.”

When Gregory heard him go quiet, he glanced over his shoulder.

“Lightweight.”

Evan woke up with a pillow being chucked at his face the moment he sat up.

So he stayed down.

But he could hear Charlie and Michael laughing.

Michael sounded like he’d been doing this for a while, and Charlie kept squealing. The noise was quickly giving him a headache, but it made him feel better about the day, and that’s all he needed anyways.

The day?

Holy shit it’s Christmas.

Evan bolted upright, “It’s Christmas.”

Gregory laughed, “Yeah, it is.”

Elizabeth threw herself on Evan and pulled him into a hug, “Morning sleepyhead!” She said, “You’re the last one to wake up.”

“We’ve been waiting forever.” Sammy groaned, “So I started chucking pillows at you and seeing if you’d wake up.”

“I told him not to.” Gregory said.

Evan smiled, “You guys are amusing. Has anyone made breakfast?”

Charlie points at Michael, “I told him to.”

Michael pushes her finger away from his face, “And I told her that I have not cooked something edible since I was 15.”

Elizabeth shuddered, “That lasagna was not edible.”

“Har har har.” Michael muttered, “at least I tried.”

Charlie sat up, “Me and Sammy made dinner, it’s someone else’s turn.”

“I vote Greg does it.” Sammy said.

“What? Why me?” Gregory whined, “I always do it!”

“I’ll make it.” Evan said.

“I’ll come help.” Elizabeth jumped to her feet.

She grabbed Michael’s arm, “I’ll show you what edible actually means.”

Charlie waved Michael goodbye with a smirk on her face as he scowled.

Evan took out the stupid cinnamon rolls in the weird circle can thingy? He didn’t know anything about them but they were good so who cares.

Michael frowned, “This is breakfast?”

“You look like you live off ramen noodles, shut up and enjoy Christmas dinner as it should be.” Evan said.

Michael blinked a few times.

“… You don’t… You don’t actually live off noodles, do you?”

“…”

So Evan learned several unpleasant things about Michael’s eating habits.

But so far, so good. He’d only felt soul crushing anxiety twice since Michael got here!

So… Good?

He wasn’t sure but it wasn’t bad so that had to mean something.

Despite joking around, Evan was a bit irritated. Michael was still being weird and it didn’t help that Elizabeth clearly didn’t understand the tension.

“You two are too quiet, come on, it’s Christmas.” She said, “Loosen up!”

“I’m just tired, Liz.” Evan said.

She flicked his forehead, earning a yelp from Evan.

“Well, don’t be, it’s Christmas!”

He didn’t like how much this reminded him of home. He didn’t like that this reminded him of his sister avoiding and ignoring his problems or his brother never listening to him.

They were all so different, but some things never change.

Unpleasantly, his mind drifted to his dad. But he pushed those thoughts away. He didn’t know why he always thought of his dad when he talked to his siblings.

“Evan, it’s done.” Elizabeth said, “Do you wanna frost it?”

Evan nodded, “While they’re still hot.”

She smiled at him, “Then we can open gifts? You’re gonna love what I got you, I promise.”

No, his siblings were nothing like his dad. No doubt they have pieces of him in them—No doubt Evan did too—But they were not him.

Maybe he could learn to live with those pieces. He’d done it with Elizabeth.

But it was just so much harder with Michael. Even now, when they were laughing and pretending to be okay, he felt dissatisfied. He wanted more than this, he wanted reassurance that his brother actually wanted to change and didn’t just feel bad. What if Michael was doing this for himself? To make himself feel less guilty? Less at fault?

As cruel as it sounded in his head, he found himself regretting giving Michael this chance. He didn’t deserve closure, not when it had taken Evan over a decade to get his own closure. He knew Michael was trying, but why did he get to decide when this change of heart came along? Why did he get to decide when this ended?

He settled in his seat beside Gregory, who was talking to Charlie and Sammy. Elizabeth was quietly talking to Michael, and Evan stayed quiet. He had things to think over. A lot.

When they finished, Charlie and Elizabeth practically dragged him to the tree.

Michael hung back, and Evan felt a twinge of… Something. Sadness? Anger? He didn’t know. But it was something.

Elizabeth insisted he opened hers first, so he did. It was a camera. Except it was yellow and had little bear ears and…

“It’s Fredbear!” He exclaimed, “It’s so cute! Oh my god, Lizzie, this must have taken forever!”

“Charlie helped with it,” She said.

He looked it over, “And it’s brand new… Smile!” He pointed it at Elizabeth and Charlie, snapping a photo quickly, “Oh my god, I love it, Liz.”

She grinned, “I knew you would.”

Gregory smiled at Evan, pushing a small box closer to him.

Evan unwrapped it slowly, before slamming it down and giving Gregory a playfully harsh look, “You did not.”

Gregory laughed, “I really did.”

He held up the sweater, “This is so dumb I’m gonna wear it for the rest of my life.”

The sweater was black with a skull on it, but it was sporadically decorated with random Christmas things. It looked so strange and out of place and he loved it.

Of course he got Gregory an equally ugly sweater, one with flowers on it, but the middle of the flower was replaced with Glamrock Freddy, one of the characters made for Fazbear Entertainment after his father had sold it off in response to the horror rumors about it.

Evan knew they weren’t true, but they still made his skin crawl sometimes.

Sammy bought him a crochet kit, with a bunch of colors for him and Gregory to mess with. He must have remembered Evan mentioning that he wanted to pick it up as a hobby.

They continued exchanging gifts, and Michael was quiet for the most part, as if he was dreading something, which Evan found amusing; of course he was nervous, he’d had one day to find thoughtful gifts for people he hardly spoke to.

Suddenly, just as Evan was going to stand, Michael tossed something to him, and he jumped in surprise.

“I didn’t know what to get you, to be honest. I, uhm, I hope this isn’t a shitty gift…” Michael said, “I also hope it doesn’t like… ruin your day… it’s a hit or miss, so I’m taking a shot.”

Evan blinks a few times, “Alright…”

He carefully unwraps the gift, gasping softly when he sees it fully.

The fur is worn, and the stitches are messy—the handiwork of his uncle, no doubt—and one of the ears has a hole in it, but there’s no mistaking it.

It was Fredbear.

The original plushie.

The one he hadn’t seen since he moved out of his dad’s house.

He’d had another, one that Gregory’s dad had made for him, but it’d never been quite the same. It also didn’t talk to him.

… Well maybe that was a good thing.

He didn’t take his eyes off it as he spoke softly, “Where… did you get this?”

“Dad sent it to me since he didn’t have contact with you. He didn’t give me a chance to say I didn’t either. Henry patched it up and it’s just been collecting dust for the past few months.”

He stared at it. It reminded him of a lot of things. The animatronics on stage that terrified him, being bullied, his nightmares, his dad, The Thing, meeting Gregory, that day he broke his ankle, that time Mike almost hit him with his car his first time driving it, when he spent that first night with Gregory, and so many other things.

“Huh…” He said.

“Is it… a good gift…?”

“Yeah, yeah I missed him.” He said, “Thank you.”

Michael smiled.

Elizabeth stood up, “Well, that was sweet,” she said, “let’s get this picked up now.”

They all groaned, and Lizzie clicked her tongue, “Come on, guys, this isn’t our house, we can’t trash it and leave.”

So they picked up. It wasn’t hard, but at some point Charlie bumped into Elizabeth, who playfully pushed her away, and then that ended with the two of them wrestling each other to the ground. Sammy jumped in and for a moment Evan thought Gregory would too, but he didn’t.

So the two of them just continued cleaning while Charlie squealed. And he glanced over at Michael.

He was picking up alongside them, and Evan couldn’t stop himself from laughing a bit.

Michael frowned, “What? What am I doing?”

“Nothing, nothing, it’s just funny that you’re cleaning. We were lucky if Dad got you to pick up a sock, much less your room, much less Henry’s house.”

Michael scoffed, but didn’t say anything.

Thanks for participating in the conversation, I’m glad we’re talking. Evan thought sarcastically.

Gregory looked like he wanted to say something, but he bit his tongue when Evan gave him a look.

“No fighting, I know,” He muttered.

God this sucked a lot.

Michael didn’t know what to say. And he was annoyed that Evan would bring that up. He got so much shit from his dad for not picking up his room, but he could never bring himself to care. He’d hated that house, he’d hated his dad, he’d hated his siblings, and god he’d hated his little brother.

Not that he knew exactly why, though.

His thoughts were interrupted by Elizabeth grabbing his arm, “It snowed last night, do you guys still get snow over in Utah?”

“What? Of course we do!” He said, “Why wouldn’t we?”

“I don’t know, you seem so grumpy I thought you must have never experienced a good thing in your life.” She said.

Evan winced and Michael frowned, “I’m not grumpy.” He said.

“Sure, as if you haven’t been moping around. You know, if you were just going to sulk this whole time you shouldn’t have come,” Elizabeth crossed her arms, “Nobody forced you to come, but you’re acting like this is the worst place to be right now.”

“I’m just… nervous…” He said slowly.

“Nervous? About what? You came because you wanted to see us, didn’t you?” She challenged, “You’re just being dodgy today, I don’t know. You just nudged gifts to us and mumbled ‘thank you’ and hung back, why aren’t you at least trying to participate?”

“I am trying! I’m just not feeling it, okay? Why do you even care, you’re not the one who invited me!”

Elizabeth scoffed, “I invite you every year and every year you shut me down, but not Evan? Is this even about him? Because it feels like it’s about you!”

Michael stared at her, “I’m trying my best!”

“Avoiding us is your best!?”

He fell silent. One look at Evan and Gregory told him they had been thinking the same things.

Goddammit.

He really had been neglecting his sister, hadn’t he? It’s not that he meant to, it’s just that he didn’t know how to talk to her. Her life fell apart pretty quickly once their father’s parenting… declined… but even then she still reached out to their father. Whether she actually thought he could change or if she was just doing it for herself, though, he had no idea.

He was trying to settle these things one at a time! why did he have to fuck up with both his siblings?

“She’s not wrong.” Gregory said, “You’ve been weird lately, and it’d be much easier for everyone if you just… I don’t know… talked? You’re not getting anywhere sneaking around like a dog.”

Michael felt his anger spark at that, “I’m not sneaking around! And don’t call me a dog!”

Elizabeth clenched her fists, “Well if you were really here to make amends, you’d put some effort in, but instead this feels more like a shitty way of getting closure and making yourself feel better-”

Evan stepped forward then, “Okay, that’s enough!”

“-And maybe if you hadn’t almost killed Evan he wouldn’t hate you so much!”

The whole room fell silent.

Evan stared at her, “Elizabeth…”

“It’s true!” She said, “It’s true! He’s always done this! You just avoid us, you shut us out, like that will help, and then you come crawling back for forgiveness so you don’t feel like shit about it!”

“Elizabeth!” Evan shouted.

She turned to look at Evan, and they locked eyes for a moment. She sighed, “I’m going… To go to the gas station for a bit. Call me if you need me.”

Michael watched her go, silent. His gut was twisting and he felt sick.

He was a shitty brother all around, wasn’t he?

He couldn’t even get his sister to like him. Not that he’d tried very hard. Elizabeth made herself feel untouchable. She avoided her brothers because she didn’t want to be caught in the middle of whatever they were doing. She hadn’t been talking about Evan, not entirely. She was probably lonely, he realized.

He looked at Evan, “I didn’t… I’m… I’m sorry…”

Evan stared at him, “Do you want to talk about It? Now?”

Michael laughed, but it was dry and humorless, “No, but I’m willing to, if you want to.”

“We’ll leave you guys alone.” Charlie said, grabbing Gregory and Sammy and pulling them away.

“Liz is right, you’re not really proving anything other than the fact that you feel bad. Which is… It’s annoying.” Evan said, “I know you feel bad, I’ve known that since I got out of the hospital when I was ten, Mike. I don’t need to know you feel bad, I need to know you care and want to make an effort to change.”

“Well, I am trying I just-”

“Don’t know how?”

Michael looked up at him.

“...Yeah.” He said softly, “I don’t know what to do, I hardly know you guys anymore.”

Evan sat down beside him, “None of us do, it took Elizabeth years to even look at me, and even longer for us to finally start actually talking. There’s a lot of things we can’t fix. Elizabeth will always be blunt, that will never change. It’s something she got from Dad. She can’t help that, but she can make it better.” He looked up at Michael, “And I think you can, too. If you just talk to me, but you won’t. And that’s making it hard. I don’t want to push you or bother you but I really really need to just… understand this.”

“So… About The Thing…”

“Yeah, The Thing. Me almost dying, you putting my head into heavy machinery? That Thing?”

“Yeah.”

“I… I still have the scar, you know? It healed over pretty well though, head wounds do that. But I still dream of it, you know. Do you have nightmares?”

“Of seeing my little brother’s head get crushed like a grape? Yeah,” He took a deep breath, “Hard to forget that when I spent at least five minutes staring at it.”

Evan stares at the floor, “... I don’t even remember when it happened. I didn’t feel it at all. Not until I woke up, at least.”

He takes a deep breath, “I… Can I just ask you why?”

“What?”

“Why did you do all that? Why did you treat me like that?”

Michael fell silent. He never talked about the why. It’s not that he didn’t know. He knew. He had known since he started, since he watched his brother’s skull get crunched in front of him.

“I thought it was funny,” He said, “I didn’t like that Dad did all that shit to me. He obviously enjoyed it, and I enjoyed doing it to you. Some kind of fucked up stress relief, I guess.”

Evan stares at him, looking hurt, “That’s brutally honest.”

“You said you didn’t want me to lie to you.”

Evan nodded, “Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a bit, before Evan spoke.

“I don’t know if I want to forgive you or not,” He said, “It’s not that… It’s not that I don’t think you’ve changed but… I still have nightmares. I still remember these things that happened to me and they… they suck. But sometimes I feel like a jerk because I know you’re trying and I know you don’t get why this is so hard for me but… But I really hate you. I hate that you are here for closure, I hate that you are here at all. But I invited you.”

“I think I do get it.” Michael said.

“Hm?”

“I… I haven’t blocked Dad yet, did you know that?”

“Really? I blocked him the day I moved out.” Evan said.

“I keep not wanting to. I keep thinking, ‘what if something happens? What if I need to talk to him?’ even though I know that’ll probably never happen.”

“So I guess I can get where you’re coming from. In a weird twisted way, you know? I don’t know how to cut him off, but I don’t know how to talk to him. It’s like there’s a door open in front of me and I’m too scared to walk through it but what if I close it and it locks? What if there was something good in there?”

Evan doesn’t take his eyes off Michael, before he says, “Give me your phone.”

Michael blinks at him, tilting his head, but he slowly hands Evan his phone, “What’re you doing?”

“Blocking Dad.”

“What!? Did you not hear anything I just said?” He reached for his phone, but Evan was quicker and pulled away from him.

“There’s nothing behind that door, Michael.” He says, startling Michael with his intensity, “Nothing that you want or need. You left that room forever ago and you deserve to stay out of it for the rest of your life. You and Liz.”

Michael watched him and his hand dropped back to his side.

Maybe Evan was right. Maybe there was nothing behind that door. Maybe he was just wishing there had been something in that room. It’s like he was closing and opening it in hopes for something new.

“...Thanks.”

“Always available for cutting off shitty family members. I’m incredibly good at it.”

Michael laughed, “... Yeah… you are.”

Evan stood up, “I think that’s enough for now, I don’t know if I forgive you, honestly.”

Michael shrugs, “Eh, that’s not the most of my worries,” He says, “I guess this was something of a test run?”

“If it was, I think it turned out okay.”

When Elizabeth got back, Michael took her aside to talk to her. Evan didn’t listen in, but he knew what they were talking about, and he did indeed see them hug tightly. It wasn’t Evan’s business. He left it alone.

So things weren’t fixed. But they were better. They had wrapped old wounds. Nothing was healed, but they weren’t bleeding anymore, and that was good.

The rest of the day was fun. Elizabeth insisted Michael stayed, but he had to go home eventually, and there was a mutual understanding that he needed some time alone after all that. It was overwhelming, and Evan was definitely done with seeing his family for a bit. They weren’t friends, but it was something.

He watched Michael walk outside, where Jeremy had come to pick him up.

“Hey, Mike?” He called.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for coming.”

Michael smiled at him, “Thanks for letting me.”

Not forgiveness, and in the end he would always prefer the family he’d made for himself, but otherwise this went well.

That being said, he was never inviting that many people over for Christmas again. He should’ve gotten them together for Thanksgiving instead.

Gregory pulled Evan back inside, “Dude, it’s freezing, come inside.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Gregory looked inside, “This place is a mess. What happened to ‘we can’t make a mess and leave it’?”

Evan laughed.

#im participating in the thawing of Mariah Carrey and I'm not sorry #Christmas #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #my writing #michael afton #evan afton #no specific au #elizabeth afton #charlie emily #sammy emily #gregory fnaf #really hope u guys like this i spent forever on it #no beta reader bc im impatient #some of the characterization might get choppy but to be honest i really really enjoyed writing this #afton brothers #flashlight duo

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mavrixen · 2 months

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i feel like twitter has given artists this strange complex where they don't feel they're allowed to enjoy what they do, regardless of anything

so here's your reminder you're allowed to enjoy art. you're allowed to enjoy your art even if it's shitty as fuck, even if it's a brush test, even if it's something you've never done before

you're allowed to enjoy your art even if it "flops" because who the fuck cares, you shared it with at least one person. it is tangible. you made something that didn't exist before. now it does because of you

you're allowed to be happy with your art. you're allowed to enjoy it. that's the point

#and i'm sure it has all to do with the idea of the algorithm and instant gratification #but it makes me sad to see amazing creators beat themselves down because #“well i have to” “i'm just not happy” “i'm so demotivated”#you really don't have to. you can enjoy things. you can enjoy shitty things. you can enjoy temporary things #do the art of the fandom you're not in but you like the design of #do a sketch of the au you made up at 2am and never will think of again #even if they're not popular or they suck or whatever

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decojellyfish · 3 months

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It's okay, love ♡

Hope you guys enjoy this one! Gaz needed a proper one, not just a drabble :) If you have any constructive criticism, please comment below! If you have any requests, or just want to say stuff to me, feel free to submit stuff!

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Harpee Hawk! Gaz x Harpee Dove! Fem! Reader Both of you are nervous on your first date together :3

SFW ~ An odd combination of fluff, then angst, then fluff again :) Warnings: N/A

───♡───────────── Beginning You were waiting at the reserved table at the restaurant where you had planned to meet your date, fingers nervously fidgeting with the fabric of your dress. Your anxiety about being set up makes you glance at the time on your phone every 5 seconds. It was 2 minutes passed your agreed meeting time. You try to subtly fan yourself with your hand, nervousness setting in and making your skin slightly perspire and your white feathered wings twitch ever so slightly in anticipation.

Then you saw him. He came slightly rushing in, he knew he was a little late. You could see in his face. Although he was afar, at the entryway, you could see a slight glint of guilt in his eyes. He was scanning the restaurant for your face, but he spotted you because of your shiny, soft wings instead.

It made your stomach fill with enough butterflies to make a bug collector jealous with how his face suddenly lit up and he began to make his way to your table.

He spoke your name as he approached, almost in disbelief. He was just as astounded as you were as you took in each other’s beauty. It was kind of a brief awkward silence, which you two realized as you looked away from each other with a light blush dusted upon your cheeks.

“I-I’m Kyle.” He spoke, still in awe of your presence, as he held out his hand to you. You responded with your name, as well, and held his hand. You thought it was a handshake, although that would’ve been awfully business-like for a romantic date until he began to raise your hand to his face and he gently kissed your knuckles.

He looked at you the whole time, with you practically melting at the way his half-lidded eyes gazed into yours that were wide open at the surprise.

He then sat himself down in the seat across from you, “Sorry, love, f’ bein’ late. Traffic was complete chaos out there.” He chuckled, making you smile and laugh as well. “It’s okay, at least you showed up late rather than not at all.” You responded, adjusting the shoulder strap of your dress.

“Have you ordered anything yet?” “No, I was kind of waiting on you. I was just gonna wait until about 20 minutes passed our agreed time before I just ordered something or just went home.” You both laughed, a waitress soon approached your table and requested your order.

After you two had placed your orders, she left and you were left alone with each other again. You both stared at each other for a moment before he was the first one to speak up.

“You’re dress looks lovely. It goes well with your wings.” Kyle smiled, you could almost melt with the way his eyes shifted to the feathered protrusions in your back. His brown eyes began to sparkle with admiration before they returned to your face. “You look lovely…” He spoke softly, but loud enough for you to hear him.

You had never really made it this far when it came to a date, either being ghosted or stood up, or your date making you so uncomfortable that you say you’re off to the bathroom when, in reality, you’re booking it out of the agreed spot and going home. Something about the thought of someone caring for you so much that they would kiss you, greet you every morning, comfort you every night, and take you off on an adventure to experience new things together.

It felt so foreign to you. But with Kyle, you could feel the love radiating off of him. Honestly, it terrified you. This felt strange, weird, scary. Scary that you had never gotten this far, scary that you didn’t know what to do or where to go from here.

So you did what felt familiar.

You grabbed your purse, stood up, and spoke the words that felt like a safety blanket to you. “I-I just need to use the restroom for a bit, is that okay…?” “Oh, of course, love. I’ll be right here when you get back.”

He was oblivious, only an understanding smile appearing on his face. It made your heart almost shatter with guilt. But it was the only way you wouldn’t become an emotionally terrified wreck in front of the gorgeous piece of art that sat across from you.

Walking away from the table, you went in the direction of the bathroom, constantly checking over your shoulder to make sure he couldn’t see you before abruptly changing direction and going towards the entrance. You grabbed your coat, quickly putting it on as the host thanked you for coming to the establishment.

You didn’t say a word, quickly shooting a glance over your shoulder at the two-person table. Kyle still obliviously waiting for your return. You felt a burning lump in your throat, tears pricking at your eyes as you couldn’t bear to watch. You were setting up this man’s beautiful heart to be broken. All because you were scared of what actual love felt like, having been denied it for so long.

You swiftly left, already beginning to hiccup, and blinked back your tears. You didn’t want him to see you abandoning him through the windows, so you shot up into the sky and began to fly back home.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“They’re just in the bathroom, they’ll be out in a minute.” Kyle smiled up at the waitress as she served your food across from him. Once she left, he softly muttered to himself, “Hopefully…” before glancing over at the bathroom with a small sigh. He held his hands together in his lap, trying to calm himself down. It had been 24 minutes. Kyle didn’t know what had happened to you.

Maybe you were having stomach issues? But how could they have been so bad that it kept you almost 30 minutes in the restroom? The worst idea that he had popped up in his head was that you had gotten hurt in the bathroom and needed dire help. But that one was also the most unlikely, so he pushed it to the back of his head.

It’s been 32 minutes since you announced that you needed the restroom, he didn’t want the food to get cold. He took a small bite of it, surely he could explain once you got back that he didn’t want to eat cold food that had originally been served warm.

It’s been an hour and 3 minutes since you had left. Kyle had eaten part of his food, not even half of it. He was too worried about what had happened to you. Why you left him. He looked at the plate of perfectly untouched food that was probably cold now.

He was holding his face in his hands, wondering what he had done wrong to make you have this reaction, when the waitress approached him and asked about the bill.

“It looks like I’ll be the one paying f’ it huh?” He responded, defeated. He took the bill from her, quickly speaking up before she left him alone. “And can I get two boxes f’ these?” She responded with a yes and a nod.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It wasn’t that difficult for him to find your address, he had just asked through the grapevine of people he knew definitely were in contact with you. He knew how creepy it was, but he just wanted to make sure you had gotten your uneaten food. That’s all.

Kyle landed outside of your townhouse, walking up the steps and knocking on your door. He hoped you at least had made it home safe.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You were still sniffling from your crying session. You felt like such a fool for leaving what seemed to be a perfect man in the dark like that. You felt so many emotions all at once, even as you tried to compose yourself in your pajamas, and snuggled up in your bed as some pitiful attempt of physically comforting yourself. Shame, embarrassment, fear, confusion, helplessness, and frustration with yourself.

You nearly gasped in horror when you heard a knock on your front door. Tears rushed to your eyes, that stupid look you always developed when you were about to cry made its way to your face again. You waited, hoping, praying that whoever it was would just leave you alone.

But it came again, somewhat more frantic than the first time. It felt oddly like a ‘worried’ knock. You sighed, grabbed another tissue, and lazily tried to clean yourself up, this person wasn’t going, were they?

You got out of bed, your wings slightly twitching as they stretched out. They had been stuck in a position that was slightly wrapped protectively around you as you were crying. Your wing muscles were aching, and it took you up until now to notice how stressed they were.

Shuffling down the stairs, you just wanted to be left alone which was why you didn’t bother to look out the windows by your front door.

Your front door opened, Kyle felt relieved that you were okay, you nearly got a heart attack when you saw him on your front step. Here come those tears, already severely blurring your vision, obscuring his worried face once he saw you begin to cry at the mere sight of him.

“You kind of forgot your food, love…” He softly chuckled and handed you a styrofoam box, your shaky hands taking it. “You alright…? ‘M sorry if it was anything I said that made you feel the need to-” “I-I’m sorry…” You whimpered out through trembling breaths and uncontrolled hiccups.

Kyle looked at you, his eyes growing sympathetic as he watched how you just crumbled right in front of him. It made him want just to hold you, cup the back of your head, and whisper into your ear ‘It’ll be okay’.

“I-I’m sorry for-... for just leaving you like that!” You desperately explained, your tears now already rolling down your face, down your cheeks, and down your neck. You didn’t know where to put your take-out box so you just awkwardly held it as you used one hand to wipe at your face.

He looked at you, taking a small breath before stepping into your home and gently taking the box from you. He set it down on a nearby table where you kept your shoes and a vase of flowers. Then he turned back to you and gingerly took your hands in his, looking into your red, puffy, watery eyes.

“It’s alright, love, I forgive you… but there must’ve been a reason you did it…” He was gentle with his words, they felt like a hug almost. “Was there…?”

You sniffled and glanced up at him as you thought of an explanation. “I-I guess I’m just… just afraid of actual love…? As stupid as it sounds…” you sniffled, your shoulders quivering along with your breaths as you tried to calm down. You gave a small awkward, kind of desperate laugh.

Kyle softly chuckled, “‘Fraid of love…? That sounds awful…” he would gently plant a light peck against your knuckles. “How long have you had philiphobia…?” he asked with a small smile. This time, you let out a real laugh. Small, but real. “What’s that…?”

“The irrational fear of love…” His words were so smooth, soft, and velvety as he said that. It felt strange, but like a strange comfort, almost. You took some time to think. “Well, I’m not exactly terrified of it… more like, I’m just unnerved by the prospect of it…”

“Still, how long have you been bothered by it…?” You really started to dig deep into your memory, trying to figure out where it all began.

“I guess… I guess when people started to make a big deal about getting into relationships… I suppose all the way back in elementary, I just wanted nothing to be loved… romantically loved. I never really got that, in any of my school years, and now I’ve just… kind of grown distant to the idea of being loved…?”

“And yet you still reach out for it, love. You’re in the dating pool, you still want love…”

“Yeah… I guess I do…” you mumbled to yourself. He looked at you, moving a bit of hair that had stuck to your face via crying. “Mind if I show you just a little bit…? Not a kiss, but I still want to give you the romantic love you desire…”

You paused, in thought, debating internally on whether or not you accept his proposal. Maybe it was time you did something you were afraid of. I mean, exposure therapy is there for a reason, right?

You give him a small nod, and you see him light up like a warm candle, a comforting light within the cold darkness of night. He then opened up his wings and proceeded to wrap them around you, pulling you closer to him. His coffee-brown feathers gently brushed and rubbed against your ivory ones. He then held you closer with his own arms.

Those muscular arms that silently screamed, ‘I will protect you with every fiber of my being’. One hand resided at one of your shoulder blades and the other cusped against the back of your head.

You both stayed like that for a bit. And you finally let yourself just be. Just be in love. Just relax into the comfort of the loving embrace of one harpee to another. Your eyelids would begin to droop shut, your body relaxing in the warmth of Kyle’s love. You could hear it, in the way he breathed, that he was smiling once he felt you relax into him.

“How’s this, love…?”

“...I like it.”

“You sure? You just like it?” He quietly chuckled.

“Yeah… I love it.” ───♡───────────── End

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gale-in-space · 3 months

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Okay looks like we got a resounding yes as to whether or not I should post my Bladeweave on the moon pic lol. My coffee hasn't kicked in yet so I'm posting this before I become lucid and start second-guessing myself. Here ya go:

I blame @rattusn0rvegicus for coming up with this idea and then pestering me to draw it haha. But tbh it was super fun and I actually like how it turned out even though it doesn't make compositional sense.

Hold onto your wizard before he floats away, Wyll!

#you don't float on the moon but i'm sure gale could if he really wanted to. that man's head is constantly up in the clouds. just like me fr #again not posting to my art blog because i want to keep that blog... somewhat serious? that's a lie. i want that to be a normie blog #anyway #bladeweave #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #wyll ravengard #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #space #my art #today i bring you: self-indulgent AUs that only my friends and i will enjoy #and tomorrow? who knows...

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spacebubblehomebase · 1 month

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@alletalover Correct me if I'm wrong, but yours was the Ask I accidentally sent in "private", right? Unfortunately, I can never retrieve it again, but that's on Tumblr's archaic system. Though to repeat what I answered for those who may also benefit from it, NEVER apologize for your curiosity! I enjoy engaging with you guys and it shows your interest! ^v^ Also, yes. Radioapple is very much a thing in my AU alongside Chaggie. This is a Chaggie & Radioapple centric project which is why I gave it the plural name #HHStargazersAU as it pertains to BOTH Vaggie & Alastor watching over their respective MorningSTARS. It just so happens that Chaggie is already established (though I have plans for them still) despite Radioapple having met earlier than the girls did in my story. Mostly because they're emotionally constipated old men who are frankly quite shit at dealing with their emotions. So no. They're not yet dating in my AU. Honestly if I could skip the world building altogether just to focus on our ships, I would, but that undermines the whole point of making an AU when I could just as well post the same one shot fluffs I usually do and I also believe the dynamics I had in mind will suffer without it. Alas, heavy is the head that wears the crown and mine is too full of ideas to let you all down. Just hang in there, guys! Been busy with enrollment lately so it's been slow going, but I swear it's going! Wish me luck! -Bubbly💙

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cosmicgesture · 1 year

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DP x DC Idea

ok hear me out- Ghost King Jason Todd. Bear with me a tick.

At the end of the first millennium of his rule, Pariah Dark was required and compelled by Zone Law to name an heir should he retire or shatter. (Not that anyone expected him to do either.) Still, it was a law of the zone itself, and it needled at his core worse than the Observants and their constant prattling.\

So, eventually, he grew annoyed enough by it that he declared his heir to be a liminal being. If that wasn’t controversial enough, he picked a random name that had yet to popularize in the mortal world, specified that the death was a violent one, and the death date? The death date was just numbers he happened to glance at in the moment, with the year set thousands of years away from the time the heir was named.

Pariah Dark figured, what are the chances someone with this name, of liminal nature, will die on this random date? Well, he knew of Clockwork (maybe knew him well, even), and knew there was always some slim chance. Still, he figured he could simply find his presumed heir and destroy him before he could try to claim the throne.

He didn’t expect to be locked up in the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep.

When he’s freed during Reign Storm and notices the date, it’s one of his priorities to send a lookout for the random kid who would happen to be his heir. Danny and co. lock him up before he receives any information, and that ends up being kind of that.

There’s discussion in the Zone after that, about a potential ruler. Some think right-by-conquest applies, but others argue the technicalities of the matter - Danny did not act alone, did not beat Pariah Dark without help. Thus, it doesn’t count as Conquest (though it does put him in the high recommendations for the next king’s knight). There begins the questioning then: did Pariah Dark ever declare an heir? Few were left who remembered such a thing, but it was confirmed that he had indeed, though the information about said heir was scant and somewhat inconsistent. One story said the heir’s name was Jackson, and that he died tragically; another called him Jensen and claimed he still lived. So the search began, with inconsistent clues. Any place in the mortal realm with enough ectoplasm to sustain a ghost was a potential hiding place for the heir. They started in Amity Park and spread to other towns and cities. Some ghosts sought out newly dead that had died the day Pariah was locked back up again.

But who’d’ve thought to connect that the same day the sarcophagus locked again, a boy named Jason Todd rose from his grave?

#dp x dc #danny phantom #jason todd #pariah dark #ghost king jason todd #i really want to make this dead on main but this is all i've got #listen a throwaway line from danny fenton dead and loving it gave me a small brain worm #and it finally squirmed its way back with Content #HI LET ME CONTRIBUTE TO THE GIANT MASS OF AUS #my condolences to those who are sick of dc crossovers #hi i don't know shit about how jason rose from the grave but i don't care #his death date was the one pariah declared #he never expected the name jason to actually get popularized enough for there to be a greater chance #Clockwork didn't have to do anything #it just Happened on its own #anyway jason ended up the heir to the throne by pure chance and that declaration Guaranteed his ressurection #idk thats all i got im going to bed enjoy #oh actually no- danny does end up jason's knight #that's an important Thing #now i'm done

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tunastime · 17 days

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Love in the Time of Calculation

as promised: the first chapter of the ranchers SEN fic! this fic takes place inside the au I created for Stretching Endless Night. I'm hoping posting this first chapter will actually get me to. write the rest of it. since I've got so much of it written. jazz hands!! enjoy!

In order to continue supplying food for a growing station, Commander Tango Tek, second to the head of engineering on the space station Prometheus, takes a six month study with the Empire-2 station at the behest of his admiral. There, he meets their botanist and horticulturist, Jimmy, a man he's only communicated with in communiques, voice memos, and documents. When they meet for the first time face-to-face, Tango realizes they both have something very interesting in common. In the face of all odds, two androids fall deeply, horribly in love. (6711 words)

Tango flips a switch on his navigation panel.

“It would be funny,” he says, slowly, enunciating as the recorder picks him up. “If I were to start these with some outlandish startdate. I would find it hilarious, I think, but I don’t know how many other people would. So…

Stardate 2105.47: I’ve just made brief contact with the Ring-style Space Station known as the Empire-dash-2. After discussion of docking procedure, I was forwarded the…passkey for the docking sequence and I should be arriving within two hours of my current time. That time is…in hour format…8:07pm. Lookin’ forward to meeting them, as much as they’re probably lookin’ forward to meeting me. I’ve never spoken to them in person—it’s all been electronic. So…it’ll be interesting, to say the least!” He nods, feeling some inclination to sigh—despite there being no way to. Motions he’d learned and copied from his peers.

“Thus begins my month-long stay with E-dash-2. I can only hope some work with hydroponics actually gets me somewhere. They tell me the guy’s a genius, so I’m inclined to believe them.”

Tango jabs his finger against the stop recording button. After a beat, the small, LCD screen flashes SENT in dark, bold letters. Leaning back in his chair, Tango folds his arms over his chest, and sets his boots on his console. The ship around him hums faintly, enough to be heard if he pays attention to it. As he leans back, he surveys the inside of his ship, the LTS-111, the small craft that he called home. In comparison to other ships on the Prometheus, it’s smaller, built for short term travel between locations, a cool, dark grey inside. There’s two swivel chairs at the helm, a large front, port window, overlain with his control panel, above and below his chair. Behind him, a door opens to a short hallway—mess hall and his room, just a plain, grey-white with one bunk. There’s a crate with his belongings, of which there are few, a plant on the windowsill to keep him sane. The mess is devoid of food and drink. It’s a luxury he doesn’t need. It’s nice when he can, but it’s nothing but an experience for him. Nothing to be gained from poorly made HASA meals full of crude protein. The edge of his boot catches the lip of the console, pulling at the rubber. He’s tucked his flight suit into his boots. His eyes follow the bright red and gold stripe down the side—division colors. Commander, engineering and technology. On his sleeve there would be the same designation, as was on all of his uniforms. Even the plain black, well fit shirt underneath, even his boots. HASA; Commander. Luckily his boots didn’t have a commander or engineering tag. If he felt so inclined to sand off the small rubber HASA branding he could.

His eyes follow a line across the ceiling, to the small strip of light that brightens the room. He runs his fingers over the seam in his sleeve—habit, again, but he’s not sure from whom.

The hour passes slowly. Tango spins simulations in his mind, projects from the ship's computer the schematics of E-2. He can see the docking station there on the map and traces out the line from there to the botanical garden. He spends time memorizing that path, and out to other locations, and rolling the names of his new compatriots around in his language acquisition program. None of these things are foreign to him—he’s built for new experiences, new learning opportunities. He can feel where known things end and new begins, and craves to fill the space, often and continuously. When that hour ends, there’s a tinny beep from his communications panel. He looks over the message displayed.

LTS-111 prepare docking sequence.

Tango dials the coordinates into his navigation system, overriding the current charting program to pilot into the docking bay. As he does, a crackling voice jumps to life.

“LTS-111, this is Fwhip, Commander of E-2. Do you copy?”

“E-2, this is Commander Tek of Prometheus. I copy. The Rift is ready for docking procedure.”

“Commander!” The voice—Fwhip—laughs. “It’s good to have you. Glad to hear you made it safely.”

Tango nods to himself.

“Myself as well. Looking forward to meeting you all.”

The line clicks out. Tango resettles in his chair, sitting up straight, taking in the sound of Fwhip’s voice, the designation, the information. He files that away.

The curve of E-2 comes into view, stark white and grey, glittering gold where the paneling reflects light. He watches as the shining craft sits suspended amidst stars, its own field of gravity and oxygen and life shining a faint blue in the light of the nearby sun. He feels that warmth through the front viewscreen, despite the gold foil and shade to block it. It’s nice. In the closest approximation to nice he could get. He pulls the seat’s harness over his chest, snaps it in place as he begins standard docking procedure—slowing to a noticeable crawl, flipping on his communications panels, and switching to reserve thrusters. The Rift was made with older tech, anything he could salvage and amass from ships being decommissioned. It functioned—better than the standard HASA ships and was fully compliant—well beyond what he’d ever expected. Though he wasn’t quite human enough to have real expectations.

The ship settles into a launch port on the far side of E-2. Tango takes his time collecting his belongings. He wanders into his room as the ship powers down, settling into a dull hum. He repacks his bag, giving a quick once-over of the bunk before he lifts the trunk into his arms, the weight negligible. He settles the plant in the corner of his bag, making sure it’s settled before he slings the bag over one shoulder and sets the crate on one hip. His startup keycard sits in his front shirt pocket, and his credentials badge in his back pocket.

The first thing he notices as he enters the launchpad for E-2 is how clean and bright it is. The launchpad is devoid of anyone working, and there are certainly no other docking ships. The two other ships Tango can see are relatively new and clean, parked closely together. He glances around the space, looking for any sign of movement. His footsteps echo quietly around the empty chamber. To his right, beyond a stabilizing membrane is the winking stars of space. There’s a planet in the far distance, but it’s much too far to see anything notable.

The bay door to his ship closes as he steps toward the winding steps up to the lofted second floor. He starts up the steps, lifting the crate into his arms.

“Commander Tek!”

Tango startles. Looking up to the second floor, he sees someone lean over the railing, waving enthusiastically. Tango squints at him, surrounded by the white facade of the walls around him.

“Commander Fwhip?” Tango says, cocking his head to the side. He sees Fwhip nod again.

Tango smiles a little, eyebrows furrowing despite it. Fwhip. The intonation matches what he heard crackling over the communicator of his ship, though, of course, without the static. He’s wearing stark black, with a large diagonal line cut in red across his chest, up to his collar, and over his shoulders. Tango realizes for a moment that his jumpsuit may not have been the prime choice for meeting a commanding officer—no matter the rank or office. Especially considering that he was supposed to be both a liaison and a researcher.

But as Fwhip meets Tango on the landing, he shakes his hand firmly. There’s a spark, somewhere, in his eye, his heart rate elevated as Tango greets him. He’s winded, too, like he ran all the way here. Tango feels a piece of information in his mind click unexpectedly into place.

“Commander Fwhip,” he says, copying the smile Fwhip is giving him more fully. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Oh, please,” Fwhip laughs. “Commander, the pleasure is ours. Congratulations on your most recent publication.”

Tango nods. Somewhere, something kicks in his chest, just the faintest flicker of painful phantom sensation. It took him two years to publish that paper—and it was a damn shame he had to die to get it published in full, despite Doc and Etho’s help.

Fwhip’s hand is warm in his, enough to notice the change in sensation between them. He can feel Fwhip’s heartbeat in his palm and the way his breathing stutters for a second when Tango and him shake hands. Fwhip looks down at his hand. Tango lets go first, the noticeable white lines on his skin pulsating in and out. His hand feels stiff as he stretches it, feeling metal extend and retract.

“You’re…” Fwhip starts. Tango sees him frown, just the smallest change between his eyebrows.

“An android?” Tango finishes. He watches color rise to Fwhip’s face as Tango tilts his head, expression neutral, amused, even. Fwhip laughs, even if it’s born from a touch of embarrassment. Tango hums something low, a version of a laugh he can manage to sound normal.

“It’s not strange, if that’s what you think I think,” Fwhip says, leading Tango toward the stairs. “Unexpected maybe, but—to be fair, they didn’t tell you anything about me, either.”

“That is very true,” Tango says. He feels that itch, then, that want to know, to delve deeper. He shifts the box in his arms as they round the stairs, reaching the upper platform. “I think most people are surprised to find that I’m an android.”

“That’s a shame—you’re brilliant for more reasons than just being an android,” Fwhip says, and the click comes back again, like he’s cracking a combination lock one number at a time.

“I appreciate that,” Tango says, inclining his head. If there were anything in his face to indicate blush, he would be bright red. He hums instead, tilting his head back and forth in a dismissive sort of shake. Fwhip backsteps to walk by his side, raising his eyebrows over his glasses.

“So,” he starts, motioning to the door. “Did you have any questions about the ship as you settle in?”

Tango looks down at his shoes for a second, letting the thought spin in his head. He nods, just once.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’d love to hear more about the botany division—I got a real short mission briefing with Admiral Xisuma before I left. I know we were in a hurry to find the sweet spot of travel.”

“Of course,” Fwhip says. “Lining up that parallel can be real difficult if you don’t time it right.”

“The Admiral’s got an eye for interesting navigation patterns.”

Fwhip laughs, nodding his head.

“Glad to hear you’re in good hands,” he says, opening the door for them. Tango follows him into a brightly lit hallway, lined in white and cream and bright floor lights. Along the edges are colored lines, intersecting and dividing—red, blue, green—to locations Tango can’t see. He follows Fwhip down a corridor, further from the launch platform. Tango knows this layout—further down the hall is a passenger elevator meant for the science team. They’ll take it down four flights to the belly of the ship, where many of the labs rest, tucked away. The ship's rings orbit each other, so he’ll be in this ring for as long as he’s doing research. They’re relatively straight forward, broken into divided sections inside. He traces the pattern out in his mind as Fwhip begins to speak.

“Well, to give you a station briefing, our main team fluctuates, but I’d say we have about 15 to 20 of us at any given time on command, and then a hundred of personnel and staff besides ourselves. I work closely with Lieutenants Scott and Pix, and both of them know our botanist pretty well,” he turns to Tango as he calls for the elevator, pressing his keycard to the small panel next to it. The numbers above the sliding doors illuminate in orange, bright and blocky. Tango raises his eyebrows.

“His name is Jimmy,” Fwhip continues. “He’s a Lieutenant Junior Grade, but he’s incredibly good at what he does. I’ll let you two get acquainted when we get down there.” The elevator doors slide open. Fwhip gestures Tango inside before he himself steps in, pressing the button for their floor. Tango sets his trunk at his feet, toeing it off to the side and out of the way. “He spends most of his time down there, so you may not see him much at all besides when you’re working.”

Tango hums. He screws up his face into an approximation of thinking, running the words over in his head. A junior lieutenant. A higher officer, for certain, but for him to be teaching Tango—there feels like there should be a catch. Tango pulls at the seams of the phrasing, the intonation. His eyebrows furrow.

Fwhip answers his question before it leaves his mouth.

“He basically revitalized the hydroponics system overnight—nothing’s changed in the watering or feeding system, but the plants grow like crazy now,” Fwhip folds his arms, glancing over at Tango as Tango folds his hands behind his back. “I think it was his specification for a while, so as soon as he got here, he requested the transfer, and his work brought him up the grade.”

“That’s impressive,” Tango says, a touch quiet. The only other person he knew who’d ever done something like that had been Mumbo, and most of his ideas were feats of engineering so large they required a three-room modified lab space and a blast chamber. Meridian supplied that—though Prometheus—himself included—was sad to lose him to their sister station, especially after how long he worked with Tango.

“He’s written a paper on it—it’s in the works of being reviewed now,” Fwhip says. “I don’t know how likely it is to go through, though.”

Tango hums again.

“Why’s that?”

Fwhip shrugs. “He’s just not a nice guy to work with,” he says. “And I don’t mean that to be rude, either.”

The elevator doors open. They spill out into a lackluster hallway, still the same bleach white as the floors above. Taking a sharp right, they follow the curved edge of the ship down the green line, toward a series of crew cabins. Fwhip gestures toward a room closer to the middle of their row. As they stand there for a moment, he offers Tango a keycard.

“We got you a room—well before we knew that you…probably wouldn’t need the bedspace,” he says, shaking his head apologetically. Tango waves his hand. “You’re welcome to it, though.”

“Oh, I’ll absolutely take it,” Tango says, trying that smile again. Fwhip smiles back this time, one that touches his eyes, and makes Tango smile harder.”I like having my own space. Normally I have an office, so this’ll do just fine, I think.”

He presses the keycard to the door as Fwhip lifts his crate into his arms, struggling under the weight for a moment. The door slides open. Inside, as the soft yellow lights raise to bright, is a sparsely furnished room. Fwhip carries his crate into the room, setting it at the foot of the double bed. The room is small, clean, tidy. He turns in a small circle as Fwhip sets the crate down, nodding his head.

“This is great,” Tango says, dipping his head. “Thank you.”

Fwhip nods, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Absolutely,” he says. Moving past him, he gestures back to the hallway. “I’ll be forwarding you the ship changelog, so you know who’s on shift at a given time, and when meals are, if you have any interest.”

“That sounds great,” Tango says, moving with him to the hall. He follows Fwhip back down the hall, back towards the elevator. They diverge at a second hallway and down a third, following the winding corridor through the ship’s interiors. The walls shift from opaque to translucent as they follow the path down, with more and more people shuffling about. Fwhip moves through the hall easily—Tango navigates with a bit more difficulty, skirting past doors sliding open and bright lights and the new rush of people. As they weave through, Fwhip says:

“Figured I’d show you down to the lab,” he checks his wrist, a brief flash of numbers and notifications that Tango doesn’t quite catch fully. “I’ve got a bit before I have to be back at the bridge.”

Tango hums.

“Great—I’ll…hopefully be able to find, uh, Jimmy?”

Fwhip nods.

“Mhm—” he says. They pause at a lab closer to the end of the corridor. Through the high ceiling and tinted glass, Tango can see the warm yellow and purple light that floods the space. The lab stretches further down the hallway and out of sight. Fwhip tilts his head toward the lab.

“This is it?” Tango asks.

“This is the one,” Fwhip says. He steps back from the door, letting Tango tap his card, the door sliding open for him. It stays open for a moment as Tango steps in. Fwhip checks his wrist again.

“I’ll let you find him,” he says. “Hopefully you’ll get a briefing before you leave to unpack.”

Tango nods, smiling again. The warmth of the room starts to roll over him as he stands still—cooling kicks on to adjust, like a sigh out of his chest.

“Thank you, Commander,” he says. Fwhip nods, dismissing him, before the door shuts between them, and Tango stands, alone, in a room full of plants.

He picks his way around the lab for a long while. The quiet is nice, the sound of air circulating and the soft hum of lights and electronics. He hadn’t run this particular section over in his schematics—something about it almost felt invasive. He wanted to learn it for himself, standing in the center of the room, hands braced on the work table. The equipment portion of the lab is its own self-contained room at the front of the lab—big enough for a table, several workstations, shelves of equipment. He rounds the table as he spots a secondary sliding door, obscured by the semi-translucent, white glass.

Tango presses his loaned keycard to the scanner, watching the door slide open. Stepping inside, he stands amongst a huge lab filled with rows of vegetables, aquatic plants, and small trees. He can see potatoes, carrots, beets, neat and lined in suspended troughs of water and sitting in cups on the floor. Along the walls are digging and planting tools organized haphazardly, strewn about in small piles. The air is warm and humid as he walks his way around a series of rows—it almost feels like its own planet, like the atmosphere alone were thick enough to taste.

Tango walks along a row, watching the plants with a careful consideration, as if they would move, or reach out to him, or something. But they’re just plants—unmoving beside the slight wave in the airflow. He reaches out after a moment, brushing one of the leaves, feeling it between his fingers. It’s rhubarb. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen rhubarb before. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen this many plants before.

Moving around the hydroponics, Tango wanders around the other side of the lab, watching as it stretches out and further back, rows of plants in tight lines, purple lighting and tubes for irrigation running across the ceiling. He turns into a slow circle, moving back through the rows as he does. The rows loop around back to the supply stations, where Tango walks backward, trying to see the end of the lab, where else it could lead, where else he could explore.

His foot catches under him, sliding out as his knees buckle and he lurches sideways.

He yelps loudly, flailing as he falls, losing his balance and smacking into the shelf behind him. A handful of ceramic plants pots and glass beakers fall with him, smashing to the ground as the shelf comes loose. Tango scrambles up, slipping again as he lands on his hands and knees, fumbling as he tries to scoop the glass into a reasonable, unnoticeable pile, to fix the shovels that must’ve fallen with him, the stacks of gardening gloves under his right boot. He mutters to himself as he does, babbling as his mind whirs with simulations. They were always there—right? That’s fine! He tries to stack a pair of gloves back on the shelf, watching them slide directly off.

Shoot. Shoot! Damn it!

“Shit—” he mumbles.

“Hello?”

A voice calls out from the other side of the room. Tango hears a door shut. He pushes the broken shards of a pot near his knee together, like he could even try and fix the shattered pot. He searches wildly for the voice as he does.

“Hi—” he manages, voice warbling unexpectedly. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to.”

“What?” the voice comes again. “Who…”

Tango follows a shape through the row of plants as a man in grey steps around toward him. He blinks, owlish and confused, as he stares at Tango. Tango can see the name stitched into his quarter-zip.

Jimmy.

“I’m so sorry—” Tango starts again, but the man—Jimmy—is already halfway to kneeling in front of him, taking the broken pot from him, scooping the rest of the shards into his hands. Tango realizes, all at once, that he’s still sitting on the ground, surrounded by the carnage of him falling unceremoniously over into the stand. He starts gathering the tools around him into his arms.

“It’s…it’s alright—” he sighs, a trickle of confusion, of agitation, leaking into his voice. “Walk me through it, what happened?”

“I walked into it—” Tango says, feeling foolish all of a sudden. It’s not a tangible feeling. He just knows something is churning and curling in him and he can’t place what. “One minute I was turnin’ around lookin’ at this place and the next—wack.”

Jimmy hums under his breath, something amused. Tango blinks at him as he rights the shelf and replace the items from the floor.

“Wack?” he says, starting to laugh. “I…yeah. Sorry, I don’t organize things very well, it seems like.”

“I don’t either, I’ll be honest…” Tango says, shaking his head. “You’re Jimmy, then?”

Tango scrambles up with glass still in his hands and Jimmy turns back to him as he looks around for somewhere to put it. Jimmy nods his head over to a waste bin, dropping the shards of clay pot into it.

“Mm,” Jimmy nods. “You’re…?”

Tango makes a half-sound as he turns back to him, waving his hands.

“Commander Tek,” he says, sticking out his hand, smiling a bit lopsided. It feels lopsided at least. He’s trying to copy what he knows, and he thinks he’s failing. “Er, Tango. You don’t have to call me Commander.”

Jimmy raises his eyebrows.

“Ah—Fwhip told me you were coming,” he says, tilting his head a little, something like a smile coming to his face. “You’re sure just Tango?”

Tango nods.

“Too fancy with the whole thing. I prefer just Tango, anyway.”

Jimmy smiles in full. The action alone splits his face in half, stretching up to his eyes. Tango copies him, after a beat, something that falters just a little bit as he does.

Jimmy takes Tango’s hand. As he does, a buzz of electricity spikes up Tango’s arm and to his elbow, pooling there, zinging cool and bright. Tango startles, jolting back, making a small, sharp sound that gets lost as Jimmy audibly yelps. It didn’t hurt, but it felt new. Tango likes new.

He feels something wash over him, even as he jolts—memory, knowledge, understanding, like an imprint of knowing the man before him before he even did. Jimmy blinks, a furrow coming between his eyebrows. Tango, for a split second, wonders if the feeling is mutual.

“Sorry,” he blurts. The static shock dissipates as he shakes out his hand. “Sorry, I might still have glass….”

Tango looks over his hands, prodding at the silicon for any shards left there. There aren’t any, though—he even brushes them together, trying to feel for anything. Tango glances back at Jimmy. He’s looking him over, that curious, owlish expression on his face again. His mouth quirks up a little, the sides of his mouth lifting.

“You’re an android,” he says.

Tango’s eyes flick over his face for a moment. It’s completely symmetrical, brown eyes clear and bright, hair neatly parted. His movements are smooth as he steps back and adjusts his sleeves and reaches to gently brush something from Tango’s jumpsuit.

“So are you,” Tango finally says, mouth quirking up. His mouth tastes like static electricity.

“Huh,” Jimmy says, soft, thoughtful. The edges of his mouth fully curl up in a way so human and so foreign. Tango catalogs it immediately. “That’s so interesting.”

Tango huffs out an approximation of a laugh—which causes Jimmy to laugh in earnest. The tension dissolves as he laughs, and Tango feels his shoulders drop. That tingling feeling still hasn’t left Tango’s hand. He wonders for a moment if it ever will, or if every time they brush together it’ll light up like static, or if maybe they just happened to be carrying just enough electrical discharge to shock each other. Tango hopes it doesn’t happen again. He’d like to be friendly without risking a shock.

“So,” Tango starts as they stand together in the hydroponic farm. “Is there a reason ESA lets you use terracotta and glass in space?”

Jimmy shrugs.

“They want it to feel more like Earth,” he hums, amused, turning away from Tango. He wanders a bit before Tango startles to catch up, following him through to the lab room. Jimmy pushes up the sleeves of his ESA sweatshirt. “Not that I would know what that feels like…though I do like it.”

They step through to the lab with the door hissing shut behind them. The humidity and heat follow them in, clinging to Tango’s jumpsuit. He can hear Jimmy mumbling to himself under his breath as he circles the large lab table in search of something. Tango tracks him with his eyes, pausing in the space where Jimmy once was, folding his arms. Jimmy fumbles around for a moment, digging through his cabinets, with Tango watching over his shoulder.

“That’s nice,” Tango says, eyes following him. Jimmy hums, nodding in response. “I can’t say I’ve ever seen Earth myself, either.”

“Oh yeah?” Jimmy says. When he turns back, he’s holding a data pad, a thumb drive and a blank badge. He lines them all up on the table, sitting next to each other. “Have you ever been planetside?”

Tango nods.

“A few times with my old crew,” he starts, waving his hands back and forth. “Some dry and dusty ones for sure. Not too exciting.”

Jimmy tilts his head a bit. He’s still smiling, and Tango, for a moment, can’t take his eyes off it. He isn’t sure anyone’s ever smiled at him for that long, or maybe he’s misreading it—emotions were a fickle, strange thing. Maybe Jimmy was simply happy.

Tango leans against the table, back pressing to the side of it, glancing down at the data pad and keycard for a moment. Jimmy looks away as Tango catches his eye. Tango thinks he sees him flush as he turns back around to the computer.

“They haven’t really briefed me on why you’re here,” Jimmy says. “Why’d they send you?”

“To E-1? We’re uh…our science director was looking for a secondary project to help bolster our food supplies—stretch it out a little longer?” He folds his arms over his chest. “Our admiral’s been in contact with Fwhip a few times conversationally, but we normally reach out to the Meridian, a station in our system, for help, but they weren’t having any hydroponics success. So…here I am.”

Jimmy nods absently as he continues typing.

“Hopefully I can give you something useful to take back,” he says, glancing up to Tango. Tango nods, raising his eyebrows.

“I mean, they say you’re the best,” he offers. It’s true—everything Pearl had told him seemed to point directly to whoever was running the botanical experimentation lab on E-2. And here he was, an android, standing in front of Tango.

“Do they?” Jimmy asks.

“Mhm!”

“That’s very nice of them…I uh, I’ve got a badge for you,” Jimmy says, sliding the piece of plastic toward him. Tango picks it up, turning it in his fingers as he listens. It has a small symbol on it, like an overlapping square and a green stripe all the way around it. When he looks back to Jimmy’s face for a moment, he notices that same green stripe around his upper arm. Green. Science. It was fitting. He fits that bit of information right next to what he knows Prometheus’ color to be: nearly the same shade.

“It’ll get you into this lab and ones like it, um, all the way down this hall,” Jimmy unlocks the data pad, pushing it toward him. “And you can record anything you’d like on this pad.”

“Oh, thank you, that’s great, actually” Tango says. He tucks the card into his pocket, where it rests against his chest. The data pad is blank, no notes, no sketches, and no documents. Just the time and date. From what he can recognize, he’s been aboard for about two hours. “Is, uh, is there somewhere we can share notes, or should I be handing this off to you periodically?”

“Whatever you write there will also be stored on the lab computer,” Jimmy says, gesturing back to the screens behind him. “Either of us can access it at any time. It should recognize you as having access to the console, so there shouldn’t be too many problems with that.”

Jimmy studies him for a brief moment before he picks up the thumb drive, twisting it in his fingers. Tango watches the movement, eyes flicking between it, and the pad, and the screen.

“So,” Jimmy starts again. “I can’t say I was expecting an android, but that does make this whole process a lot easier.”

He holds out the thumb drive—Tango holds out his hand. The small bit of plastic that falls into Tango’s palm is lightweight and bright white. He holds it between his thumb and forefinger, frowning just a little.

“What’s this for?” he asks, setting the data pad on the table again. His hands feel an itch to turn the drive around in them, nervous ticks surfacing as he receives data and writes to disk. The humidity, Jimmy’s expression, the curious glint in his eye, the buzz of excitement he can nearly feel in the air. For an android, Jimmy was certainly animated, certainly running high on emotion. Tango could reach out and grab it, if he knew he would catch something.

Jimmy nods a few times, leaning on the table in front of him.

“That right there,” he says, pointing at the drive. “Is all of my research. That way you can just—” he mimes a plugging motion, patting the back of his neck. If Tango’s chest could cave, it would have, as he feels some gear shudder and start again. “Get it all.”

Tango blinks. His vision stutters for a moment, fading out on the edge as he tries to process Jimmy’s comment, his voice. He feels that tug at his eyebrows as they furrow, a copy of a motion he’d seen so many times on so many faces. Jimmy’s research rests in the palm of his hand, still cold, despite the heat leaching from Tango’s synthetic skin.

“I think—” Tango says. What a stupid turn of phrase. He knows—he’s not thinking this time. He knows. “I can’t do that.”

Jimmy hums, face morphing into concern for a moment. Tango sees how his posture stiffens, almost a gut reaction to the change in Tango’s voice. Write to disk. Catalog. He softens his stance as Jimmy pipes up.

“What d’y’mean?”

“I think I’d rather just learn it from you,” Tango says, closing his fist around the thumb drive. “I’ll keep this, but I would like to learn from you, if that’s alright.”

Jimmy raises his eyebrows high on his forehead, nodding a few times. His dark eyes go wide, too. They flick across Tango’s face, looking for something, before they land on the table in front of him as Jimmy raps his fingers against the plastic top. Tango tucks the data drive into his pocket, where it rests with the keycard, sticking his hands in his pockets to give them something to do.

“Oh—I mean—I, sure. Sure, we can do that,” Jimmy stutters, shaking his head. “Yeah, that should be fine, you should be able to learn that way.”

“I hope so,” Tango says, nodding. Jimmy nods with him, that color briefly back in his cheeks. “I’d at least like to try. It’s what I’m known for, honestly.”

“Mm,” Jimmy says, face settling on that half-pleased, half-curious look. “Sure. That would be nice, I think. I don’t know how much I have to teach, but I can try.”

“I’m sure you’ve got plenty, Mr. Plant Guy,” Tango quips, patting him on the shoulder as he rounds around him. Jimmy laughs. The tingling sensation of touch before has gone now, and the new touch offers nothing but the sensation of soft sweater fabric, of coolness from Jimmy, and a brief flicker of information that he doesn’t quite catch. It feels like energy he can’t process. A line of code that doesn’t slot itself into place. He gives his shoulder a quick squeeze before he pulls away, gesturing to the door.

“Do you think you might be able to walk me back to my cabin?” his shoulders shrink a fraction. He tries to quickly run the simulation in his mind, etching out the turns of the hallways in the belly of the science department. All he can remember are faces, half-recognizable from research and names partially unobscured by association. “I lost track of how many turns Commander Fwhip made.”

Jimmy shrugs, nods, patting the table as he pulls away.

“Sure,” he says, fishing his keycard from around his neck. “My cabin is close to that area, so I know the way back pretty well—-”

“You have a room?”

The door slides open in front of Tango, the cool air of the hallway flooding into the room. He steps through, into the empty, well lit space, with its green stripe and green carpeting. The white-yellow lighting smooths out the edges of the walls around them, dotted with windows of the station’s central core as they slowly rotated around it. Jimmy pauses for a moment to watch as Tango does, before he nudges him with his elbow. Tango turns to follow.

“I like the bed,” Jimmy says, making a pleasant, almost chirping sound. “And the sleep cycle. And a space for my things that isn’t the lab.”

Tango nods.

“Our secondary engineering lead gets onto me when I don’t rest, but I prefer to not have to,” he says, shrugging his shoulders, waving one hand about. That gesture was from Doc, who loved to make things more nonchalant than they had to be, gesturing with his part-plastic, part-metal arm. “It wastes time.”

“You’re a busy man, Tango,” Jimmy says. He pauses just as he’s about to say Tango, like he had meant to say Commander, but had skipped the instinct. It stutters as he speaks. Tango feels a little bit of a twist, somewhere in the gears of his chest. Maybe everyone should just call him Tango. It felt a lot better, somehow. It felt earned.

“I try to be,” Tango says, waving his hand again. “I’m built for continuous learning—neuroplasticity. It’s what I’m meant to do…kind of.”

“Interesting…” Jimmy hooks a right at a fork. Tango notes it. “I don’t think I’ve met an android without a base program. And it was HASA who decided that?”

Tango nods.

“That was the plan, anyway. So far, it’s worked out alright. I have no issues, our technicians make sure I’m running smoothly, I can run my own diagnostics as far as I’m aware. And…I get to take back knowledge to our ship,” he sticks his free hand back in his pocket. They take a left, following the curving wall. “That’s a win to me.”

“That does sound nice,” Jimmy says, frowning a little, mostly in his voice than on his face. As the wall evens out, Jimmy slows to a stop. Before them, on the leftmost side, are a row of doors, which Tango recognizes. He marks down their exact location, how the wall hugs the left, looping back around on the far side. Jimmy splays his arm out, gesturing to the doors. Tango manages a smile.

“Thank you,” Tango says, nodding. Jimmy hums.

“Of course, glad I could help,” he says. He looks pleased, now, none of the nervous flit that he had when they’d first met. Tango, too. He feels settled, somehow, like he was already beginning to understand the space around him, already acclimated to new gravity and new routine. Jimmy’s easy smile and tone of voice made that all the easier to do.

As Tango steps away, toward his door, he turns back to Jimmy, who’s folded his arms over his chest. Something’s there, in Tango’s chest, maybe just a trick of mechanics, something he can’t really place. It smooths out any bumps in logic programming. It makes things even, whatever the thing in his chest is. Jimmy makes a noise, and Tango’s eyes flick up to his face.

“Y’know—not to jump ahead or anything, since I know we’ve just met. But if you wanted to, my cabin is a bit closer to the lab. If you ever feel like you want a roommate, you’re more than welcome to stay there,” Jimmy starts, clasping his hands together. The small smile on his face hasn’t really faded, and his voice is even with curiosity. “There’s—there’s only one bed, but you said you don’t sleep. So it should be fine.”

Jimmy continues to babble, now, eyes flicking down to the patches at Tango’s knees.

“I can always request you to the room next to it—I think that one’s unoccupied, too. If you ever want to sleep, that is. But you can let me know. Figured it might be nice to have a roommate so you’re not lonely,” he finishes, shrugging a little. Then he startles, blinks, and waves his hands. “Unless you like being alone.”

Tango tries to make a sound to dissuade him from that idea, but it gets caught in his programming and his vocal filter and it kind of sounds like a wheeze, or maybe a laugh, but he shakes his head several times, copying Jimmy’s easy smile from before.

“No, no…” he assures. “That sounds really nice, actually. I’ll…I’ll let Fwhip know that I’d like to do that.”

Jimmy visibly relaxes, and the smile comes back to his face, and he laughs a little, an actual, natural laugh.

“Sure thing…” Jimmy scrunches his nose. “Roomie.”

Tango feels something flip-flop over as he jumps, shaking his head again.

“Don’t call me that—” he manages, before Jimmy waves his hands again and says:

“I’m just joking, Tango!” and reaches out to clasp his shoulder. That rush of static only prickles for a moment, leaving a warm sensation in its wake. Tango feels it trickle down his elbow and to his wrist as Jimmy steps away from him. “Have a good night, alright? I’ll see you at 0700.”

Tango nods, realizing he’s still smiling just a bit, even as he steps into his room and the door slides shut behind him. He stands at the threshold, with his back to the wall, for a long moment, letting the memories play in his head as he does. The quiet hum of his room and the orange-yellow lighting soothes his otherwise spinning mind to a controlled simulation. Even still, Tango’s hand and arm prickle faintly with sensation he can’t place, and a warmth in his chest he’s not sure he fully understands.

Pulling away from the door and into his room, Tango furrows his eyebrows and starts an internal diagnostic.

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