#sorry to leave you on a cliffhanger of sorts but this thing is getting long and next part we'll have to get back to the plot

[httpscomexe]

Gods and Their Necklaces (Pt2)

Summary:After your realm was discovered, attacks from other planets and foreigners have become common. Your King and Queen, also your parents as the Princess, have asked Asgard if their mightiest warrior, named Thor Odinson, would be able to protect the realm, with a heavy payment in the end.

Parings: Thor (Post Ragnarok) x Reader (Mentions of Y/N), (Kinda bratty and not so grateful)

Warnings:Language, size difference (Non-Sexual),pet names, light fingering, implied forced marriage, there will be individual warnings per chapter, I plan on making this a dark one. If you don’t like non con, don’t get attached to this unless you like cliffhangers. (My English can be kinda bad, I didn’t proofread) It’ll get more serious next chapter.

Word Count: 2963

Pet names: Fawn, little fawn, princess, darling, love.

Note: I have a friend who creates a little picture of the outfits I put together for Y/N, I really only have that added because I know not everyone can easily decide on an outfit, and it helps with the picture.

The outfits all have a link that you can click/tap, it will take you to @sebastianbeanz page, where he's posted the outfits I've described so far if you wanna take a look.

I can’t take it anymore.

You thought to yourself, sitting on the edge of your royal bed with your elbows on your knees and your forearms crossed as you stared at the nothingness on the wall in front of you.

Since Thor has been in your life, everything has been torturous. You can barely leave the castle, you have no choice on what you wear, you’re not able to make simple decisions anymore. Last week you tried asking some of the castle maids for some lemon biscuits only for Thor to request ‘apple crisp cookies,’ then your order didn’t matter at all, and was completely forgotten about.

But just when you thought it couldn’t possibly get any worse…

“Good morning my fawn.” You internally groan as you hear his voice in your room and your face immediately falls into your hands.

“Good morning.” You pause, a long exaggerated sigh leaves your lips. “Thor.”

“I’ve chosen a nice dress for you today, I thought it was be nice to go to the market, maybe purchase a few trinkets before I show you my home when the barrier is finished.” He approaches your bed and when his heavy footsteps are right next to you, you uncover your face to see his hand outstretched with some lavender milk tea in a royal glass cup. The only good thing he’s done for you is make tea…

“Thank you.” You grumble, taking the cold tea and sipping from it.

“Of course, so the market?”

“Depends. The dress?”

“Well I’ve made sure to choose one that is to your preferences. Not so flowy, doesn’t attract too much attention, and it's short since it’s hot out.” When you turn your head to look at him. He has this stupid smile on his face like he’s begging for your approval, which he is. Then your eyes drift to his, there isn’t a hint of anything but happiness in them and sometimes it makes you think that your impending doom might not be that bad. He cares for you, he makes you feel safe, and he makes the best tea. And that smile?

No.

You hate him, he’s practically buying you by scaring people (Or aliens) out of your realm.

“Would you like to see it or would you rather sit in bed all day and stare at me.” Shit.

“Sorry! I’m sorry.” You could feel your face heat up when you realise you’ve started a staring contest. “Yes I’d love to see the dress.” Another stupid smile came up on his lips and yet another contest was about to start, but your saviours came into the room with your new little summer dress. No. Dresses?

“I thought you’d like to choose the colour as well.” He grunts a little as he stands, pushing himself up with his hands on his thighs as he stands near the three maids who were working on lying out the dresses, all three with the same exact design, only a different colour. One was lavender, one was a pastel sort of pink, and the last one was a beautiful sky blue.

“No red this time..?” you questioned as your eyes darted between the three dresses. Normally if he let you choose anything through colours, there would be three different shades of red, not three completely different colours.

“You said you weren’t fond of the colour red.”

I’d be fond of it if it wasn’t your capes entire mood.

“Well thank you.” You say awkwardly, standing up from the bed with your drink still cupped in your hands.

All three dresses were short. You don’t expect them to pass your knee, and they’d barely reach the half point on your thighs. One thing is for sure, if you dropped something you’d be giving everyone a show. As if the thighs weren't enough skin, each of them were also off shoulder and they had a simple, barely noticeable flower design in the fabric.

“They’re beautiful, I can’t choose.” You say finally.

“Maybe I can suggest my favourite?” As you nod, he walks to the maid in the middle who was holding the blue one, vibrancy would be your thing today. “That’s all we’ll need help with here ladies, thank you for bringing the dresses.” He gives the maids a charming smile before they leave the room, leaving behind the blue dress, a cute blue tiara, and… Sneakers? That’s not royal, not at all.

Apparently he could see the confusion all over your face. “I uh…” He grabbed the sneakers which had white socks tucked inside of them and he placed them on the bed. “I thought you’d want to be comfortable while walking in the market today.”

You bitch? No that’s sweet, why am I getting mad?

“Thank you.” Thank you? “That’s actually very considerate of you, thank you Thor.” That's better. Why am I freaking out? Oh yea. He told my maids who dress me everyday out of my room.

“Well now then, don’t be shy.” He approaches you, gently brushing some of your messy hair behind your ear. Fucking butterflies. “Find me your brush, I’d like to do your hair as well.” Oh fuck my life. Without a word, you cautiously step towards your bathroom which is connected to your room, and you find your pink hairbrush, then you walk back into your room and hand it to him as he asked.

“Can’t my-” Your voice cracks, and you force yourself to clear your throat. “Can’t my maids dress me.”

“Oh of course they can, little fawn.” He grabs your chair which was at your makeup table, and he pulls it out, swaying his hand to tell you to take a seat, which you do. “How about a simple ponytail, or just a messy bun?” He asks, starting to grab sections of your thick hair, brushing through it gently so he’s careful not to pull it.

“Just a ponytail should do I suppose.” You fight to keep your voice even, not wanting to be rude.

“Ponytail it is darling.” He repeats, continuing to gently brush tangles out of your hair and then he takes a blue hair tie to match your dress as he gently pulls your hair into a high ponytail, leaving two small strands of bangs in your face. Fuck you mom. 

As his hands skillfully brought your hair into the ponytail, his fingers gently brushed against the back of your neck and you couldn’t help but feel lightheaded. “There we are.” He places his hands on your shoulders and you look at eachother in the mirror for a moment. “I can’t wait to make you mine…” He leans down, whispering in your ear, then he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, causing your lips to involuntarily part, and you could just feel him smirking against your skin before he pulls back and grabs your dress. “Come on, let’s get you out of those night clothes, and into this dress.” He gently sets the dress on the bed and helps you stand before grabbing the end of your cropped night shirt and pulling it over your head without warning.

“Thor-!” You quickly bring your arms around your chest, you normally don’t wear a bra at night since it’s uncomfortable, and now you were worried about him removing your shorts which had no damned panties under them.

“What? Get used to it, I’ll be seeing a lot more in about a week.” He then grabs hold of your the band on your shorts and is about to pull them down, but you quickly bring one of your arms down to hold them up.

“Thor!” You repeat, and he simply laughs at you.

“You should see your face right now, I wouldn’t have to choose a red dress if your face was like that all the time.”

“My face wouldn’t be red if you’d respect my boundaries.”

“You wouldn’t have to have boundaries if you’d accept your future.”

“You wouldn’t be in my future if my father had boundaries, what is with you two and disrespecting them.”

“How about we move past this and you let me dress you? Please move your hands now, fawn.”

“Make me.” Oh shit. “Wait!” The hand that was only still holding your shorts up shoots up to his chest as he quickly steps closer to you and you plastered on a sweet smile and you chuckle a little.

“Let me take them off, and move your hands.” He demands, leaving no room for argument.

“Fine.” You say reluctantly, moving your hands away from your chest, leaving you exposed to his suddenly hungry eyes.

“That’s my girl.” He says softly, his large hands hover over your waist, and your entire body shivers. “Stay still.” His hands now move to your shorts, pulling them down slowly as if to tease you as his body is almost flush against yours, any closer and you two would merge together. “No bra… No panties…” He whispers in your ear, his rough voice causing your eyes to roll a little. “Such a naughty princess…” Theres a growl in his throat, and you know its taking all of him to hold back his own emotions, all of him to not fuck you against the cold wall that was already touching your back, but you never expected a whole new wave of feelings to wash through you as he actually removes your shorts, dropping them to the ground and he helps you step out of them before throwing them to the side, and you’re relieved when his eyes weren’t eating in your appearance and he instead helped you get into your dress. “How does that fit so far?” He mumbles.

“Fine.” your voice is small, and you choke a little on your words.

“Turn around my love.” He steps back, making a circular motion with his finger, and you obediently turn around, allowing him to tie the lace on the back of the dress.

“Sh- Thor…” You say quietly as his hands fall onto your waist and he pulls your back against his front, you ass cushioning his hard erection which you could feel through his pants.

“Yes my fawn, is there a problem?” He taunts, his hands making their way under your dress and up your thighs, and when you look up from his wandering hands, his eyes look back at you through the mirror. “Your skin is so soft…” He whispers into your ear, and you groan a little, but really it was a cover for the moan that would’ve escaped your lips from his hand making its way between your thighs. “You smell so sweet…” He leans down, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “If you’d like… we could always pass on the market.” He offers, his index fingers now tracing its way up to where your body needed him most, and he knows you want it when your jaw goes slack and mouth opens just slightly. “We could see just how sweet you really are.” He finished, pressing kisses to your neck, causing you to whimper a little, and that’s all he would get.

“I actually wanted to show you something at the market now that you mention it.” you keep your voice even, and his little hand show freezes.

“If you insist.” He looks into your eyes through the mirror, and you could see the impatience in his own eyes. “Eventually though…” He whispers in your ear again, and the tips of his fingers trace a line from your lower stomach to your sternum, the little blue dress falling back over your skin and covering you again as his hand gets higher.

“Well.” He suddenly says loudly, “Let’s get going then.” You reach into your drawer as he makes his way to your door. “Oh you won’t be needing those.” He gently stops your hand. “Not until I’m leaking between your thighs and we need them to keep from a mess.”

You’re absolutely done. Frozen in place. Teeth clenched shut tight and you physically can’t move.

“Unless you’d like to change that really quick, then maybe I’ll consider letting you wear them.” He closes the drawer and you cross your arms back over your chest. “No? That’s too bad.” He smirks, knowing he has you right where he wants you. “Then let's get going darling.” He takes your hand and pulls you forward before placing his hand on the small of your back, leading you out of your room.

“Thor!”

“Good morning sir Odinson!”

“Good morning Thor!”

“Good day today isn’t it Thor!”

Thor, Thor, Thor, Thor, Thor. If I hear his name one more goddamn time today.

“How’s it going Thor?”

“Wonderful Mr. Winters, and yourself?” You were starting to believe you were the only one who hated having Thor in your realm.

“I’m doing absolutely splendid myself sir, would you two like a cookie or biscuit? My pleasure.” Mr. Winters, the baker in the realm that everyone goes to, and he provides to everyone as well. He’s frail, and he’s friendly, his white hair has done him no justice but he’s gotten tired of dying it, now only colouring it on certain occasions.

“Oh we’d love one of each, a cookie for this lovely lady and a biscuit for myself.” Oh so now you like biscuits?

“Of course.” He opens the little basket full of treats and he hands you a snickerdoodle cookie, your favourite, and he hands Thor a vanilla biscuit, Mr. Winter's favourite which quickly became Thor's favourite.

“Thank you, we appreciate it, don’t we princess Y/N?” He nudges you a little.

“Of course, thank you Mr. Winters, it’s exactly what I’ve needed.” You smile sweetly, taking a small bite out of the cookie as the two men speak for a minute and then wish each other a good day, followed by his large hand snaking its way around your waist, and for some dumbass reason, you lean against him as you walk, which only made him hold you closer throughout the entire walk through the market.

“Look at that.” He says as you reach your room again. “We’ve just enough time to relax together before the rooms close.” He sets a small bag of things from the market on your table and then he faces you again, stepping towards you to cup your small face in his large hands. “What shall we do then?” And more fucking butterflies. This dude is no God of Thunder, clearly he’s got magic for women. No matter how much you hate him, you can’t find the strength to hate his touch. Maybe I don’t hate him.  You think as you take a single step closer to him, causing a smirk to appear on his lips. “Just let me make you feel good Fawn… you could always pay me back later.” He gently takes your chin between his index finger and thumb, then forces you to look up at him. “I know you want me to touch you.” He mumbles, his fingers tracing your jawline, moving down to the pulse on your neck, your collar bone, down the centre of your chest, then back up to your neck.

“No.” Is all that comes from your mouth, and you see his chest huff a little as he laughs at your quick response.

“No?” He repeats, stepping closer, your bodies once again, almost flush against each other. “My, my, are you stubborn…” He chuckles a little again, his eyes lightening up and you feel his large palms trailing up your sides, lifting your dress over your hips, then his hands reach behind you, removing the lace from your dress. “Stop me then.” He threatens, whispering in your ear as he removes the dress, and you try to back away but he just holds you to the wall, completely exposed.

“Thor…” You say calmly, hoping he would simply stop, but he’s not a simple man and you knew that.

“Just stay quiet, and let us both enjoy this.”

“Thor…” Your voice gets more high pitched as he takes the back of one of your knees and he lifts it to his waist, the cool air making you wince as it waves over your heat.

“Shhh…” He holds your leg up, and his other hand finds its way between your bodies as he lifts you slightly, your toes barely touching the ground.

“Thor let go of me.” Your voice cracks and your hands shoot up to his chest, trying to push him away but he doesn’t budge.

“Make me…” He growls as his finger finds your clit and he wastes no time in putting his work into it. Not even seconds later, his middle finger was reaching further, and as you feel his finger enter your tight heat, a broken moan escapes your lip. “Fuck…” He groans. “You’re so fucking tight fawn… Can barely take a finger…” He taunts as he starts to slowly thrust his finger inside of you, the side of his thumb and his palm roughly moving against your clit as he draws elicit moans and whimpers from your throat. “But I suppose since you don’t want it…” You fuck. He slowly draws his hand away from your entrance. “I guess you’ll just have to wait until you're mine, won’t you?” He smiles and you want to smack that damn look off his face. What am I thinking? I want nothing to do with him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, my little fawn, sleep well.” He leans forward, letting your leg go down, and he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. Then he turns around and leaves your room, leaving you standing there, frozen, not able to move.

I don’t think this could possibly get any worse, could it?

#marvel #marvel smut #fanfic #marvel fanfiction #thor #thor odinson #smut

[salad-006]

btw salad what's ur opinion on eddsworld legacy?

For the most part, i think legacy is Okay. It's not the Best, but its nice to see so many people come together to finish off the show. I can respect all the work these guys did, especially tomska.

If you came for my option on the season and thats it you can leave, because the rest of this is me going crazy mode

My only real problems lie with only 2-3 episodes, and it drives me Crazy because they're By Far the most popular, so they've caused the most problems. This one question ended up becoming a giantic essay SORRY im just passionate about ebbworld

Keep in mind these are Just my options, I'm not going to look down on you if you're the number one The End Fan. If you like it then Cool, you can continue to enjoy it. And i can continue to hate it over in my corner

I'm keeping this section on Fun Dead short, mostly because it's not really the worst offender

The "Obliviously stupid to progress the plot" trope is so bad here. They've seen zombies before how do they not recognize them now. I get them being oblivious to super obvious things is the joke ,but its just not funny

For a Zombie centric episode, there's barely any Fighting. I feel like big fight scenes are what people like most with these. But no we get a 30 second montage, one that's not even animated

They are such wusses in this episode id bully them if i was there i think

The End. Don't even get me started on The End. Legitimately i have never seen such a botched finale in my life. Fair warning this is about to get long and angry im sorry

Let me ask one question: how come in the Finale To Eddsworld Legacy, the season Dedicated to Edd Gould and his work, Edd Himself does not play a prominent role? I'm not even kidding, you could write Edd out completely and Nothing would change. Ive heard people say this was Tomska going out with a bang before leaving the show, but from what i know he also wanted eddsworld to be completely over at The End. If that's true he could have atleast let Edd shoot the harpoon or some shit, come on

This is such a disappointing finale overall. They don't do anything exciting. We just get to watch a little "do you remember this episode?" Montage, all the sudden everything gets crazy then oh! Episodes over goodbye forever.

An end fight might have been more exciting had it been set up properly. They gave us the bare minimum, which was having tords stupid little gang tag appear a few times then having two of his coworkers/soldiers appear a few times. That doesn't hint at a Tord being an evil meglomaniac who's got a giant fucking robot hidden under the house

FUTURE EDD CAME OUT OF NOWHERE AS WELL, AND HE WORKS GREAT BECAUSE HE SETS UP THE LORE IMMEDIATELY. Tords return gave us Nothing beyond "he is manipulating them!!" Instead we get the book dropped on us halfway through the LAST EPISODE OF THE SEASON without ever being given any sort of explanation. That's just it.

ALSO FUCK BRINGING TORD BACK AT ALL. the dude asked to be removed from the show and what did they do? Hinted at his return like 15 times then had him come back as this manipulative mastermind, whos got a bunch of science stuff and a russian accent. At the bare minimum you could have writtten him to atleast resemble something close to Tord. There's literally more evidence that points to him being a clone than there is him being the real Tord, and it WASN'T EVEN INTENTIONAL.

Took a character who had left with all his loose ends tied up, brought him back with completely new unexplained info, then ended the show with both the original and the new loose ends untied. I've read this was Tomska trying to write Tord out of the show for good, but he somehow managed to do the complete opposite by leaving him at a LITERAL cliffhanger. Now all the 12 year olds are @ ing eddsworld begging he comes back for a redemption episode.

I could scream forever about the end but ive already said too much SORRY. This is why im just rewritting it myself to make it good

One last thing: its somewhat heartbreaking to me how Legacy has totally overgrown the classic episodes. Of the top Ten most popular videos on the channel, Seven of them are legacy episodes, with Edds three episodes being at the very bottom of the list

I just don't like it. I dont like how legacy has become like the Face of what eddsworld is. Maybe it's just because Edds work has been one of the biggest inspirations in my life (if that wasn't obvious already) IDK it seems unfair

Tldr: i dont like what legacy has done to the series and the fandom, but it's okay for the most part. Fuck The End though

[thegeminisage]

tng update time!! monday we did "redemption part i" and "redemption part ii" and then last night we did "darmok."

redemption: i'm doing both of these together because that's how we watched them and i'm unable to differentiate them as a result, but i think that was a huge disservice to them both

i LOVED worf finally getting his honor back. worf leaving the enterprise and ROMULAN TASHA YAR wouldve made for a great cliffhanger if only we hadnt watched those episodes in the same evening

they felt um. Long

like, could he not have gotten his honor back a LEETLE faster...

there were just so many klingon politics and idk how a woman is expected to keep up. i don't like political intrigue unless it's really really really good.

it also felt a little anticlimactic after All Of That that he sort of just got it back with a word it felt like it could have used a bigger moment

that said i loved getting to see his brother again and i love him fighting for his honor but it was a little wack that when he was like picard can you help me since you were the one who urged me to do this picard was like no <3 and also picard speaks klingon which shocks me every time. do we think kirk learned vulcan? sorry i'm focusing.

on the subject of romulan tasha yar, who is actually sela.......................did we really give tasha yar a rape baby. like did we really do that

did we give her an ENTIRE redemption episode and have her go back in time to DIE for something

only to finally have her get raped after she spent her entire childhood dodging rape gangs

AND THEN GET KNOCKED UP BY AN EVIL ROMULAN?

and then die unceremoniously, AGAIN, but this time she gets to get killed by her rapist

i don't know what i expected. we had exactly one good tasha yar moment and they took even that from us

i can't believe i didn't recognize her in the geordi brainwash episode. i guess i had other things on my mind. successful distraction..................

darmok: i waited soooo long to see this one i LOVED it

i had so much fun trying to figure out which phrases meant what. watching them struggle when i had my own guesses and felt smarter than them was also kind of frutraating! like when someone on jeopardy misses a question you know. sokath his eyes opened SO true.

i am sad that guy died though. i really liked him. if riker had just chilled out...

like what was UP w him this episode. they act like picard is a chess piece. this shit wouldve never flown with kirk. captains who stay behind and do nothing are boring as hell. the reason theres a chain of command is so he can go out and fuck around and get killed if he wants to

also, important note: NEW JACKET? i kind of dug it but what on Earth.

tonight: "ensign ro" definitely and possibly also "silicon avatar."

#personal #star trek blogging #tng lb

[themurphyzone]

BatB AU: Return to the Village

AN: Sorry to leave you on that sad cliffhanger (not really though). 

This chapter is in dedication to Angela Lansbury, who lent her beautiful voice to Mrs. Potts. Rest in peace. 

A03 Link

Ch 17: Return to the Village 

Pinky yanked on Pharfignewton’s reins just before she plunged into the forest, a deafening roar startling him. She halted abruptly, whinnying in confusion. 

“Beast?” Pinky whispered, staring at the looming and dark Gothic castle behind him. It had once been a foreboding sight, but only because he had no idea of the wonders it held within.

The roar came to an end, and there was a strange ache in Pinky’s chest as he listened. 

The Beast’s hesitant touch lingered on Pinky’s cheek, and he remembered how fluffy the Beast’s fur was underneath that prickly exterior. 

His roar wasn’t frightening. Instead, it seemed…sad. Longing. 

“Go to your father, Pinky.” 

Pinky couldn’t get rid of the sound of the Beast’s quiet, gentle order, the feel of his large paw enveloping Pinky’s head, the image of his pink eyes that only stood out more under the rose’s lovely glow. 

But at the same time, the mirror’s image of his father lying alone in the snow, in a remote part of the forest haunted his mind. 

How long had Papa been searching for him? Was anyone else with him? Did anyone know he was out there? 

Dozens of questions flooded through him, but his answers would have to wait. The important thing was finding Papa, and getting him to safety before the cold or hungry wolves got him first. 

Pharfignewton neighed, worry dancing in her blue eyes as she craned her neck towards Pinky. 

"Poit. You're right, Fig. We need to hurry," Pinky said, flicking her reins. But he couldn't shake off his unease as she charged into the forest, the castle quickly disappearing behind the trees. 

But he tried to keep the castle in sight for as long as he could. 

It had been frightening at first. He'd never lived anywhere that had been enormous, dark, and crawling with stone gargoyles before, but the servants welcomed him as an honored guest. 

And any misgivings he had vanished after he and the Beast became friends. In his own awkward, grumpy, and endearing way, the Beast had done his best to make Pinky happy.

Though Pinky wished he could've worn his beautiful golden ballgown longer, he didn't want to ruin Marita's work. So he left behind everything he'd worn at the ball and donned the simple blue dress he'd come to the castle with. 

He'd become spoiled with all the fancy clothes and accessories, unable to resist since Marita and her seamstresses had worked so hard to tailor them to his size. And he enjoyed doing little twirls for the Beast to show them off. The Beast always had the cutest little blush on his cheeks when he did that. 

But now, the blue dress he'd worn in the village felt unfamiliar against his fur, though it was still comfortable for riding. His travel cloak was draped over his head, keeping him warm as the temperature plunged further into the forest.

Thanks to the Beast, Pinky was taking a small piece of the castle with him while keeping part of his mother’s memory alive too. 

A saddlebag knocked against Pharfignewton’s side as she galloped, and Pinky untied the string, pulling out the magic mirror the Beast had gifted him. He could’ve sworn his hand brushed against something wooden, but he could sort through the contents of his bag later. 

He stared at his reflection in the glass, oddly bright despite the darkness. “Mirror, can you help me find Papa, please?” he asked. 

Though he wasn’t sure if the mirror could guide him to wherever Papa was right now, the image shifted to a map of the forest and all its pathways, well-traveled or not. An arrow appeared on the bottom, pointing to the right. 

“Turn right over here, Fig!” Pinky said, yanking the reins to the right. Pharfignewton sharply veered into a denser part of the forest, nearly tripping over a fallen log. 

Though no wolves chased them this time, Pinky's heart raced with fear at all the things that could've potentially happened to his father during their time apart. 

Pinky had missed his father along with the Squirrels every day, and he sent quiet prayers to the skies for their well-being. 

A twinge of guilt took hold within him. He'd been so happy with all of his brand new friends, content with the Beast, and busy trying out things he'd never done before. 

But in the process, he'd forgotten his responsibilities at home.

They needed him. And he wasn't there to provide. 

Home had to come first, not his feelings. 

But then he thought of the Beast, and how lonely he always seemed even though he was surrounded by his servants. Pinky remembered the night he'd lost a piece of his mother's cloak, how scared he'd been that he'd lost it for good, how he could only curl up at the doorway of his bedroom, too afraid to venture into the dark castle to search for it. 

He'd still been wary of the Beast, unsure of how to broach the barrier that was still between them, even though he wasn't nearly as uncaring as first impressions made him seem. 

But when the Beast found him and returned the piece of cloak with great care, Pinky realized the Beast was no stranger to loneliness either. 

It was the first night they'd ever spent together, in the doorway of Pinky's room. 

And it was the night that they'd truly become friends. 

A pang swelled inside Pinky. He couldn't stop thinking about Papa, nor could he stop thinking about the Beast. 

He was torn in two directions, unsure of which way to go. 

Maybe once Papa was better, he could visit the Beast and the rest of his friends.

But at the same time, a visit just wasn't long enough to do everything he wanted to do, or spend time with the Beast. 

Without his best friend, he was lost and directionless, forever wandering in circles and unable to decide what he wanted in life. 

Maybe it was just colder in this part of the forest since there was still snow on the ground, but Pinky sniffled, which he definitely didn't have when he left the castle.

Pharfignewton came to an abrupt halt, and Pinky nearly slammed facefirst onto the saddle. He flicked the reins, but she refused to move, only whinnying softly out of concern for him. 

“I-I’m alright, Fig,” Pinky whispered, blinking back tears that threatened to fall. “Let’s keep moving. Don’t worry about me.” 

Pharfignewton stomped her hoof, her ears pinned back as she let out a frustrated nicker. 

She was usually easygoing, always one to take things in stride. The only time Pinky had seen her truly mad was when Snowball barged into her stable while Pinky was brushing her mane in an effort to talk to him. Pinky had used up his entire apple supply that day just to get her to calm down. 

“We have to find Papa,” Pinky gently reminded her. “We’re getting close.” 

Pharfignewton picked up the pace, but not before swinging her head in a way that Pinky interpreted as ‘this conversation isn’t over’. 

The magic brightened along the edges of the mirror, and the trees went by in flashes of an eerie, otherworldly light. 

This must’ve been the mirror’s way of telling them just how close they were. 

Pharfignewton had to slow down to a trot since the trees were so densely packed in this region. There wasn’t much of a path to follow, just leaves, dirt, snow, and twigs. 

Then the mirror flashed brightly, its light spilling across a disoriented mouse half-buried in a pile of snow. His clothing was tattered, his fur caked with dirt and dead leaves. He couldn’t get up at all, and the only signs of life were his fingers twitching erratically and the occasional ragged gasp. 

Papa. 

The mirror’s light disappeared as Pinky slipped it back into the saddlebag. Then he hastily dismounted Pharfignewton and rushed over to Papa, turning him over so that he laid on his back. 

“Papa…” Pinky whispered as he hugged his father tightly, relieved to find that he was still breathing. He teared up as he held his father close, happy to finally be reunited with him. 

Papa’s eyes didn’t open, but his hand came to rest on Pinky’s elbow. He let out a small moan and murmured something Pinky couldn't make out. 

He would be okay. He was alive. That was all that mattered in the end. 

“Let’s go home,” Pinky said with a tearful smile. “It’s okay, Papa. I’m here now. I’m here.” 

They were heading back to the cottage, the meadows, the hills of wildflowers. They were finally returning home. 

But as he helped Papa onto Pharfignewton’s saddle, a pang of doubt struck Pinky. 

I’m with Papa and Pharfignewton again. I can visit Slappy and Skippy too. But…why doesn't it feel like I'm going home? 

o-o-o-o-o

The forest finally thinned, giving way to a beautiful meadow with gentle, rolling hills and colorful wildflowers. He hadn’t seen the meadow in a long time, and he’d forgotten just how lovely a sight it was.

The cottage was a welcome sight. It wasn’t nearly as extravagant as the castle, but it had its own rustic charm that Pinky missed. 

“We’re here,” Pinky whispered. 

Pharfignewton circled around the side of the cottage, and Pinky stuck his hand out to feel the sprays of water from the waterwheel as they passed. It was cool and misty against his hand. 

As they approached the front of the cottage, Pinky’s ears pricked at a trio of voices coming from the porch. 

“-th-think those ruffians will come back? Wouldn’t we be safer inside the cottage?” 

“Oh, quit being a coward, Plotz. Those cowards won’t stand a chance once they’re staring down the barrel of my rifle.”

“And I’ll smack ‘em good with my trusty beer mug! Haha!” 

“I still say you’re too drunk for watch duty, Jacque,” Plotz grumbled. “We have to be extra vigilant, or we’ll end up like Tom, Dick, and Stanley-” 

Pharfignewton’s hoof came down on a twig, and the three men on the front steps of the cottage jumped to their feet in alarm. 

The largest man out of the trio was Gerard the butcher. He pointed his rifle at Pharfignewton, who whinnied in panic. Next to him, Jacque wielded a half-full beer mug, while Plotz stood behind them, eyes wide with panic as he backed towards the house to try and escape.

“Whoa, it’s just me!” Pinky cried, throwing his hands in the air. “Sorry I scared you! I just got back!” 

Slowly, Gerard lowered his rifle. “Pinky?” he said in shock. “Is that really you?” 

Pinky tilted his head. “Why wouldn’t I be me?”

Gerard sighed. “Great. Another idiot I have to put up with tonight.” 

“I knew it! I told ya, and ya didn’t believe me!” Jacque shrieked, pointing fearfully at Pharfignewton. “It’s the four horsemen of the apocalypse! They’ve finally come to lay waste to the earth!”  

Gerard cuffed him over the head, and Jacque groaned in pain. “Four kooks in town is plenty, Jacque,” he snapped.  

Pinky took notice of the broken door of the cottage as he slung the saddlebag onto his back and helped his unconscious father off Pharfignewton’s saddle.  

“What happened to the door?” he asked. 

“Er…well, you see, Pinky,” Plotz chuckled, rubbing his hands nervously. “Your door was just a little old, so the town’s just taking the liberty of replacing it for you. We thought it would be a nice surprise in case you came back. We just didn’t expect you so soon…” 

“And the parts aren’t here yet, so we were taking turns guarding your cottage from thieves,” Gerard added. 

Oh, so that explained why the three of them were sitting on his porch! He’d never expected the village to do something that nice for him. They were more content to ignore him unless they needed him for something or to mock him for being the village idiot. 

It was really sweet of them to replace his door and guard the cottage. 

Maybe they wanted to change too, just like the Beast. 

They stood aside as Pinky climbed the steps, struggling with the saddlebag on his back and his father, who wasn’t able to do much to help him.

“Well, why don’t you go ahead and settle in? I’d love to help, but I have a little errand to run. The taxes won’t collect themselves, you know!” Plotz said. He turned to Pharfignewton, whose ears were pinned back as Plotz approached her. “Now let’s see if you’re carrying any coins…” 

But she stomped her hoof loudly, her blocky teeth on full display when Plotz reached out for her saddle, grabbing an empty bag on her side. She snapped her teeth with an angry huff. 

“Ahhh!” Plotz shrieked, barely snatching his fingers away in time. He glared at her. “Fine, have it your way. But I’m warning you, if your owner were smarter, you would’ve been glue a long time ago.” 

He slunk away in the direction of town, and was soon out of sight. 

“I’d never turn her into glue! She’s family!” Pinky shouted indignantly, but it fell on deaf ears. 

Nobody in this village understood how much Pharfignewton meant to him and Papa. They wouldn’t have survived constantly moving around France without her hard work and dedication! 

But the castle knew, and though Pinky loved feeding, brushing, and bathing her, it was the first time he didn’t have to do all the work alone. And he enjoyed teaching the Beast about all the best ways to care for her.

Pharfignewton pulled away as Gerard grabbed her reins, rifle slung over his shoulder. 

“Come on, horse,” Gerard said as Pharfignewton dug her hooves into the dirt in defiance. “Let’s get you to a stable.” 

Pharfignewton neighed in protest, turning her head to shake off the reins. 

“Fig, I know you’re a little antsy cause it’s been months since we’ve been home,” Pinky said in an attempt to calm her down. “You’ll feel better once you’re in the stable with some food in your belly. And I’ll see you once Papa’s okay, alright?”

Pharfignewton stopped resisting, though she still wasn’t happy at being handled by Gerard. 

“Yes, take that horse of pestilence away!” Jacque shouted as they disappeared around the back. “Mark my words, the others are sure to come and there’s nothing we can do to stop them!” 

Pinky left him to his ramblings, wishing he had a front door to block out the outside world right now. It was dark inside the cottage, so Pinky had to step carefully, recalling that there was a loose floorboard in the living room somewhere. 

It was strange to be back. When he'd first agreed to stay at the castle in his father's place, he'd spent the first hour of his imprisonment sobbing into his pillow and dreaming of his quaint little cottage. 

Where everything was simpler and less scary looking than all the Gothic decor. 

But now, he'd grown so used to the talking, moving, and dancing furniture. He was sure he was gonna strike up a conversation with a teacup or wardrobe, only to discover that they couldn't talk.

And he'd grown so used to the Beast by his side. Sometimes Pinky felt like he had a huge, grumpy shadow tailing him, but he didn't mind. He just liked the company. 

And now that he wasn't here, the air was just cold and empty.

Papa shifted in his arms, startling Pinky out of his thoughts. 

"Hold on, Papa," Pinky said softly. "You'll feel better once you're in bed." 

He carried his father over to the coziest, warmest corner of the cottage, where a small, mouse-sized bed awaited. Pinky drew the covers of the bed back, tucking Papa underneath before pulling the blankets over his body so that only his head and shoulders stuck out. 

Then Pinky unclipped the saddlebag that had been attached to his back, stretching his limbs to get some feeling back. He had plenty of endurance, but today had been physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausting, and his limbs were left sore and aching. 

But his work wasn't over yet. 

He could hear Papa's stomach growl from a mile away. Maybe a bowl of steaming, warm, hearty soup would help. 

Since it was the middle of the night, Pinky couldn't go to the market and buy ingredients, so he'd just have to improvise with the ingredients in the cupboards right now. 

Funny how he hadn't cooked much at the castle. Chef Flavio always insisted that guests shouldn't be expected to cook their meals, politely turning down any offers to help in the kitchen. 

Even his attempts to make tea were met with some resistance from the servants, who always shooed him out when they caught him trying to fill a teapot with water. 

Pinky knew they meant well, but sometimes he wished they'd let him help with the chores or cook in the kitchen. 

He'd never treated the Beast to some homemade ratatouille and no-bake cheesecake, had he? 

There were so many things Pinky wished he could've done with the Beast. Though they'd only spent four months together, it felt like they'd known each other their entire lives. 

As Pinky danced his way into the kitchen, humming the beautiful song he'd waltzed to earlier that night in a dream come true, a shadow's movement from the couch in the living room caught his eye. 

“Hello?” Pinky called. 

There was no answer.

Pinky crept around the couch to see who the shadow belonged to, reeling back in surprise when he came face to face with Slappy Squirrel. She and her nephew were more than welcome to stay for the night if they wanted to, but seeing her after an entire winter away still sent Pinky for a loop. 

“Hi, Slappy! It’s been a while!” Pinky exclaimed. “Sorry I left without saying anything, but I had such a magical winter and it’s a bit of a long story really, and…Slappy?”  

Slappy only stared into the dying embers of the fireplace, not responding to him at all. It was like he was completely invisible. 

And he knew he wasn’t invisible, because he could see his hands and fur just fine. 

“Slappy, what’s going on?” Pinky asked in confusion. “Are you okay? Where’s Skippy?” 

She was grouchy and reclusive, but she had a sharp tongue and wit that Pinky enjoyed listening to. 

She wasn’t acting like herself. 

As soon as he mentioned Skippy, the elder squirrel squeezed her eyes shut and curled up on the couch, turning her back on Pinky. 

She refused to say anything. 

Did something happen to Skippy during Pinky’s time away? 

He didn’t need to look all over the house to know that Skippy wasn’t here. He would be bouncing off the walls and chatting Pinky’s ear off if he were. And Slappy always had a hard time getting Skippy to bed because of his energy. He would’ve been the first at the door to welcome Pinky home, and Slappy would try to get him back to bed because setting bedtimes was what responsible guardians did, only to give up and let Skippy stay awake until he finally crashed. 

Maybe she’d be more willing to talk if she had something to eat too?

Everyone was acting strange. He wished someone would just tell him what was happening. 

Maybe it was just his own hunger talking. That had to be it. 

He’d have to cook a huge pot of soup for everyone. Though Plotz left to run errands, Gerard and Jacque were still here. Maybe they’d accept a hot meal as a thank you for guarding the cottage. 

He rifled through the cupboards in search of something to eat, but the only items he found were two heads of cabbage, a can of beans, and three loaves of half-stale bread. 

It was enough for a cabbage and bean soup with a side of bread tonight, but he would need to go to the market as soon as possible to stock up on food. 

He focused on chopping the cabbage and soaking the beans with water from a pump his father built on the side of the cottage to deliver fresh water from the stream without having to go outside. Once that was finished, he pumped more water into a pot, tossed the cabbage and beans inside, and hung it on a hook by the fireplace, stoking the dying embers until they erupted into a warm, welcoming fire. 

“It’ll be twenty minutes before the soup’s ready. Here’s some bread while you wait,” Pinky said to Slappy’s prone form on the couch. But she only covered her body with her bushy tail. He broke a piece of bread from the loaf for her to snack on while she waited. He didn’t have any jam or butter to put on the piece, but he hoped she wouldn’t mind. “I’ll just leave it here in case you get hungry.”  

He made sure to use the freshest loaf he had for his guests and Papa. That would leave him with only the stale portions, but he wanted to be a good host and son. 

Gerard had returned from putting Pharfignewton in the stable, and was sitting on the topmost step while cleaning his rifle. Jacque was swaying back and forth, drunkenly singing Alouette. 

"Hi, guys," Pinky said. Gerard and Jacque jumped to their feet and faced Pinky, staring awkwardly at him with strange expressions on their faces. Pinky smiled and gave them one bread roll each. "This is my thanks for you guarding the cottage tonight. And I've made extra cabbage and bean soup too. It just needs some time to cook, but I'll save you both a bowl in case you're still hungry." 

Jacque frowned. "Cabbage and beans? That's our thanks? Just the cheapest stuff in your cupboards, eh?" he leered, dropping his share of bread onto the ground and squashing it underfoot. 

Pinky's ears fell at the sight of the squashed dough. One of the best pieces had gone to waste, just like that. 

"I-I'm sorry. P-p-p-poit," Pinky stammered out an apology. He didn't mean to offend anyone. He thought he was doing something nice. "That's all I have right now." 

"P-p-p-poit," Jacque taunted, and Pinky's eyes misted over, blurring Jacque's form. "Snowball feeds us better than this!" 

Gerard ate his bread roll with a grimace. "Don't you have anything with meat?" he asked, not even bothering with a compliment or thank you. 

Pinky shook his head. "I have cabbage, beans, and bread. No meat though…" 

Gerard made a disgusted noise, turning his back on Pinky and refusing to speak anymore. 

Pinky retreated into the safety of the cottage, tail dragging along behind him. He couldn't block out their vicious taunts, no matter how hard he tried.

Freak. 

No wonder why your family keeps moving around! Nobody wants you!  

He wished he could bury his face into the Beast's fur. The Beast didn't seem to know it, but his hugs always comforted Pinky. 

It was too cold without the Beast. 

With two pieces of bread in hand, Pinky trudged to his Papa's bed and despondently sat on a stool.

He'd left the saddlebag on the floor, but he didn't have the strength to take out the mirror right now. 

Pinky put the bread on the bedside table and buried his face into Papa's blankets, trying to clear his head before the soup finished cooking. 

He was home. 

He should be happy that the winter was over, happy that he was back with Papa, happy to be free after all this time.

But freedom came with a price. 

He missed the Warner siblings' humor and cheer, Marita's support, Rita's dry wit, and Mindy's energy. He missed Hello Nurse's helpful advice, Flavio's cooking, and the stablemaster's expertise with horses. 

And most of all, he longed for one of the Beast's warm hugs, the tiny growls in his ear that promised safety from whatever troubled him, whether it was from the world or from his thoughts. He missed bantering with the Beast, whether it was a bad pun that made him laugh, commentary on something they read, or clever retorts when Pinky wasn't pondering what the Beast was pondering. 

Even his grumpiness had become endearing. 

And the Beast tried so hard, every single day since Pinky met him. Some tasks were difficult for him, but he tackled them head-on anyway. 

Even if he failed, he tried his best. Pinky appreciated the effort, and made sure the Beast knew that so he wouldn't give up. 

If the Beast was here, maybe Pinky wouldn't feel so…so icky inside. The Beast had given him the most wonderful night Pinky ever had in his life, and though Pinky wished their dance would never end, it was over now. 

No matter how much Pinky wanted to see the Beast and his servants again, he knew that he couldn't act on that urge.

Not when he had to take care of Papa. 

The blankets shifted, and a hand came to rest on Pinky’s arm. Startled, Pinky raised his head. 

Papa was sitting up in bed, finally awake after all this time. “Pinky, are you okay?” he asked, gently squeezing his arm. 

It had been months since he'd heard his father's voice, or been wrapped up in one of his hugs. He felt like a kid again, clinging to Papa as tightly as he could. 

"Narf…I missed you so much…" Pinky whispered, unable to hold back his tears any longer as his father gently rubbed his back. 

"So did I, Pinky," Papa said, tousling the messy, untamable tuft on Pinky's head. "So did I. But I'm glad you escaped that scary castle without being too roughed up." 

Pinky pulled back from the hug, surprised by Papa's word choice. 

"Escape?" Pinky echoed in confusion. "Papa, I didn't escape. Beast let me go so I could save you." 

"...Beast?" Papa said, eyes widening with shock. "That same horrible Beast who threw me in a cell?" 

Pinky nodded. "The same Beast, but…different too. He was angry when we met him, but…there was more to him than that. I got to know him over the winter, and I realized he was lonely and scared and sad. I remember feeling that way, and it's icky. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. And we…we weren’t so different after all. And we got to be friends." 

Papa was silent as he took in everything Pinky said. Pinky's ears fell. 

"Papa, I swear I'm telling the truth-" Pinky began, and Papa squeezed his hand in reassurance. 

"You shouldn't swear, Pinky," Papa scolded. "It's not nice." 

Pinky only stared at him. 

"Sorry, just trying to lighten the mood," Papa admitted with a sheepish chuckle. When Pinky didn’t reply, Papa’s laugh tapered off. “Now why don’t you pass me that bread and tell me a little more?” 

Pinky grabbed the two rolls of bread off the table and offered the better one to Papa. But Papa reached over and took the stale piece instead. 

“Papa, hold on. That’s-” Pinky began, trying to take it back, but Papa held it out of reach. 

“-the stale one, I know,” Papa said. “I may be sick, but I still have all my teeth, Pinky. One stale roll won’t hurt me. Besides, you look like you could use a good roll.” 

He tried to take a bite, but was only able to break off a tiny piece. He grimaced as he chewed with considerable effort. 

“Well, if this roll doesn’t knock ‘em all out at first,” Papa tried to joke again. 

Pinky managed a tiny smile and nibbled on his roll, though he wasn’t particularly hungry. His mind wandered to that wonderful dinner with the Beast earlier that night, which seemed like a lifetime ago now. 

“...I’m making cabbage and bean soup too,” Pinky said. “Is that okay?”

Jacque and Gerard had reacted poorly to the dish. Maybe he should’ve tried to scrounge for more ingredients in the garden, or-

But Papa placed a comforting hand on Pinky’s shoulder. “That sounds wonderful, Pinky.”

Pinky sighed in relief. 

“You really fixed up your mother’s cloak, Pinky,” Papa said, feeling the fabric of his cloak with one hand. “It looks like she bought it yesterday.” 

“I didn’t fix it up, Papa,” Pinky said quietly. “Beast gave this to me after I ripped Mama’s cloak to bandage him cause he got hurt while saving me from a wolf.” 

When Papa only stared at him, Pinky took a deep breath and explained everything. How he’d wandered into a room he wasn’t supposed to be in, how the Beast had caught him and scared him so badly that Pinky had fled the castle entirely, the wolf that cornered him and Pharfignewton, the Beast’s sudden appearance and battle with the wolf, and finally, how the Beast had successfully chased off the wolf, only to collapse from his injuries. 

“...I couldn’t just leave him in the cold when he saved my life,” Pinky admitted. “I didn’t have any bandages, so I used Mama’s cloak instead.” 

“He really saved you?” Papa asked in surprise. 

Pinky nodded. He remembered the remorse in the Beast’s eyes as he collapsed, how vulnerable he was in the snow, and the confusion and helplessness in his reaction when Pinky wrapped the scrap of cloth around his arm. 

“He did,” Pinky said quietly. "I bandaged him properly at the castle, and he was pretty stubborn about it, but eventually he let me patch him up. Then I had a fever cause me and Fig fell into a river while the wolf was chasing us, and everyone in the castle came to see how I was doing. Even Beast. He tried not to let it show, but I knew he just wanted me to be okay. Then I got better, and I lost the only piece of cloak I had left. Beast returned it to me, and we became friends. This new cloak was a nice surprise, Papa. He threw his cape over me so I wouldn’t peek. And you’d love the library if you saw it. I’m not much of a reader, but it’s still one of the prettiest places I’ve ever seen.” 

He remembered the sunlight flooding into a dark room, pulling the cloak off his eyes, and a vast room filled with books and curved staircases and shelves with all sorts of fun little knickknacks to play with. And most of all, he remembered the purple cloak silhouetted against the sun, the overwhelming joy he’d felt when he hugged the Beast for the first time, and being rewarded with a rare, hesitant smile. 

Pinky showed Papa a light patch on the cloak. It was sewn in so seamlessly that it blended perfectly with the darker fabric around it. 

“...I told him about Mom. He knew this was her cloak, and he had his servants sew it into this one so I wouldn’t lose it again. And I told him how she…passed away. The baby too.”

Papa stared down at his bread roll, one hand clutching his chest, the memory of his late wife and unborn child paining him. 

“...you really told him?” Papa asked quietly. 

Pinky nodded. “I trust him. And…I wanted to tell him. I know we always said it was an accident, but…there was more to it than that. We lost two members of our family, and our home that day. I just thought…it would be nice if someone knew. That I didn't have to carry it all by myself. And you know what he did?"

Papa shook his head. 

"...he hugged me," Pinky whispered, and he wrapped the cloak around himself to recreate the feeling of the Beast's warm embrace that night. "And he surprised me with a ball and 

I wore this beautiful golden gown, and he was very handsome in his suit, and we shared the loveliest dance together. It was very sweet of him to organize all that, and all the servants pitched in too.” 

Pinky wiped away the tears that sprung up at the corners of his eyes. Just a few hours ago, he’d had the most wonderful, magical night in his entire life. 

But like all dreams, it had to come to an end. It was time to face the facts. 

He was a peasant and a bona fide village idiot. 

He wasn’t a princess at all. 

And most importantly, he needed to take care of his Papa. Home came first, even though it meant he couldn’t see the Beast and the rest of his friends. 

I don’t think I know what home is anymore. 

“I’m sorry, Papa…” Pinky whispered, the guilt gnawing away inside him. “I’m happy to see you again. I really am. But the castle…they all accepted me. Even though I’m just a silly, stupid peasant mouse. I just…belonged in a way I never did before.”

Papa was silent as he took in everything Pinky said. 

“You were happy there, weren’t you?” he asked quietly. 

Pinky nodded. “Beast was always there for me. He was mean and scary at first, but I think he just needed a friend to help him understand things. He cares, but he’s afraid to let it show. But he tries so hard, and he doesn’t give up. He helped me read Cinderella to Mindy. He has a very soothing reading voice, and I almost fell asleep when I was listening to him because I felt so relaxed. And he’s determined, clever, witty, and sometimes grumpy, but he makes the cutest happy growlie noises if you scratch him behind the ear just right. We cuddled in the library almost every night, and I knew I was safe as long as he was there. His fur is a little prickly on the outside, but also very soft and fluffy underneath. And he can be a little shy, but also sweet once he tries to open up. And…and I-” 

Pinky had to stop. Suddenly, he was short of breath, and his heart thumped wildly as butterflies fluttered in his stomach. 

“You know, there’s a sort of glow around you when you talk about him, Pinky,” Papa said. When Pinky tried to look at his body to see if he was really alight, Papa gently stopped him. “It’s the type of glow that only happens when-” 

A loud snore interrupted him.  

Papa stopped talking, his ears pricked to see where the sound was coming from. Pinky looked around too, thinking that it might’ve been Slappy, but her snore had more of a raspy quality to it. Then he realized the saddlebag he’d left on the floor was rising up and down. 

Curious, Pinky climbed off the bed and opened the bag. 

The handle of a silver mirror spilled out, along with a very familiar mantle clock who snoozed away at Pinky’s feet. 

“Wakko?” Pinky exclaimed, shaking him awake. “Wakko, how did you get into my bag?” 

Wakko stretched, yawned, and sat up. He scratched his head with one brassy arm. “Faboo, Pinky! Your bag was really comfy! I didn’t know the ride ended at all!” 

He was wide awake now, launching himself at Pinky for a hug. Pinky hugged him in return. He hadn’t expected to see one of his friends from the castle so soon, but they would always be welcome in his cottage. 

Were Yakko, Dot, or anyone else here too? Pinky checked each flap of the bag in case someone was hiding there, but he didn’t see anybody else. 

“Hi, Pinky’s Papa!” Wakko exclaimed as he hopped onto the bed and embraced the old mouse. “It’s been months since I’ve seen you! Did you do something new with your mustache?” 

Papa chuckled as Wakko played with the fur on his upper lip. “Never thought I’d see you again. How have you been?” 

Wakko grinned, his tongue sticking out playfully. “Oh, I’m alright. So are Yakko and Dot and Rita and Hello Nurse and Squit and Buttons and-” 

“-and Beast?” Pinky said hopefully. 

Wakko’s playfulness vanished, and he sat on the edge of the bed, his wooden, blocky legs dangling over the edge. Confused by Wakko’s sudden change in mood, Pinky’s smile dropped. 

“He misses you a lot,” Wakko admitted. “We can hear his roars clear across the castle.” 

He does? I know he seemed sad in the West Wing when he sent me away, but…

Looking back, he’d never asked the Beast why he was sad. The Beast had been trying to tell him something important, and maybe Pinky leaving before he could tell him that important thing made him upset?  

“Does Beast know you hid in my saddlebag?” Pinky asked quietly. 

“Only my siblings do. Yakko tried to stop me, but Dot convinced him to let me talk to you. To see if you wanted to come back, I mean. You’re not leaving forever, are you?” Wakko asked, and his sad tone tugged at Pinky’s heartstrings. “Cause we all really miss having you around. It’s not the same anymore.” 

“That’s very sweet of you, Wakko, but I’m sorry,” Pinky stammered. “The soup should be ready now. I…I should really check on it. Excuse me.” 

Pinky ignored the puzzled looks Papa and Wakko gave him as he fled the room, wishing he'd pushed for Papa's side of the story more. 

He still didn't know where Skippy was, or why Slappy barely responded to anything, or how Papa stumbled into such a remote part of the forest by himself. 

Maybe the soup would help Slappy? He hoped so. 

He grabbed several bowls from the kitchen and carried the heavy stack to the fireplace. There was one for Slappy, one each for Jacque and Gerard, one for Papa, and one for himself, though he didn't feel particularly hungry. 

He set a bowl aside for Wakko too, though he didn't spoon any liquid for him since he didn't eat. 

Though Yakko and Dot knew their brother was with Pinky, did anybody else realize he was gone? They must be worried sick.

But once the weather was better, and Papa was healthier, maybe he could spare a few hours and return Wakko to the castle. He could visit all his friends. 

He could see the Beast again. 

But then I'd just have to leave all over. 

Though he needed to save his father, it was hard enough to set aside the golden ballgown and leave without barely saying goodbye to everyone. 

Pinky stared down at his reflection in the soup-filled bowl. 

"Poit," he whispered to his reflection. "Sorry, I'm just so confused right now…" 

"Well, there's a shocker."  

Pinky jumped, the smug voice startling him so badly that he spilled soup on the carpet. 

Looming above him was a sharply dressed man in a stylish black suit with red and gold accents. His mustache was neatly trimmed, and his dark hair was pulled back into a slick ponytail. A dark fire burned in his beady, coal-black eyes, an unsettling smirk gracing his lips. 

The Proprietor. 

Pinky had heard stories about the Proprietor, a man so cruel and sadistic that the institution he ran was rumored to be the gateway to hell. 

But he was mostly mentioned as a way for parents to scare their children into obedience. 

And now he was in Pinky's cottage, beckoning flames from the fireplace to dance on his long fingers. 

"You have a nice fire going there," the Proprietor said casually, like he was talking about the weather. "Shame it's being used for such a bland soup when there's a billion fiery methods for eternal torment." 

“Th-thanks,” Pinky stammered, spilling soup on the floor as he tried to ladle it into the bowl with shaking fingers. “Would you like a bowl, Monsieur Proprietor? There should be enough for one more.”

Whether he was nervous from the Proprietor being in his cottage, or just trying to calm himself down before he returned to Papa and Wakko, he wasn’t sure. 

“Please, just call me Monsieur Itch. Proprietor doesn’t roll off the tongue as well, don’t you think?” Itch said as he pulled out a business card from one of his lapels and handed it to Pinky. “But I digress. I’m here on important business, not a social call.” 

He snapped his fingers. 

Jacque and Gerard entered the cottage. Jacque stomped straight to Papa’s bedroom while Gerard slung Slappy over his shoulder. Her arms dangled lifelessly, bushy tail completely limp as he carried her outside. She wasn’t fighting back at all. 

Jacque followed moments later, holding Papa with both hands as the old mouse struggled and thrashed in his tight grip. 

“Get your hands off me!” Papa shouted, only to break into a hacking cough as the chill of the night hit him. Jacque was far stronger than he was. 

“Hey, put him down!” Pinky cried as he hurried out of the cottage after them. “They haven’t eaten yet, where are you-” 

His protests died in his throat at the sight before him. 

The entire town was right outside his cottage, wielding burning torches above their heads. They jeered as Slappy and Papa were carted over to an imposing wagon. 

The blacksmith, the baker and his wife, the miller, the cobbler, the merchants at the market, and even the local priest were here. 

And they were all encouraging this. 

Maison des Lunes was written on the wagon’s side in hellish red lettering, and the heavy doors were held wide open by the villagers as Slappy and Papa were roughly thrown into the hold.

“Not to worry, Pinky. We’ll take good care of them,” Mr. Itch smirked. 

Pinky’s heart sank. Slappy and Papa didn’t deserve the Maison des Lunes! It was an awful, evil place, and he would never wish that fate on anyone!

“They don’t deserve this!” Pinky cried, trembling as he tried to hold back his tears. With everyone pointing and laughing and mocking him, several stray tears slipped out. “Please let them go!” 

“Oh, we’ll let them go alright!” Plotz scoffed, pushing his way to the front. “As soon as Slappy Squirrel pays her dues and the old codger stops talking nonsense about that beast! This’ll teach ‘em to not be crazy!” 

"But there was a beast! I'm not lying about that!" Papa shouted. "With horns and fangs and claws-" 

But Plotz only laughed, making a fast loop by his ear with his finger. 

"Well, you don't get much crazier than that!" Plotz cackled.

For the first time, painful reality hit Pinky. He was alone, and he couldn't call for his friends for help or the villagers would mock them too. Maybe the Beast would know how to deal with the crowd, but Pinky didn't want to put him in this situation. It wouldn't be fair to him. 

Behind him, Wakko peeked around the doorframe, but Pinky gestured for him to stay back. He didn't know how they'd react to a talking mantel clock. Wakko didn't look happy about it, but he obeyed. 

"Jacque, Gerard, please, I…I thought you were guarding the cottage until the parts for the new door came," Pinky stammered. 

But Jacque only laughed, and Gerard rolled his eyes. 

"And you believed us?" Jacque asked with a toothy smirk. "Boy, you're even more gullible than I thought!" 

"We had an obligation to keep watch for your return. Otherwise, we wouldn't bother," Gerard added. 

They weren't helping him out of the goodness of their hearts. And they'd lied! People that he'd known for years, well, the truth was that he hadn't known them at all, if they'd hidden how they wanted to throw Papa and Slappy into the Maison des Lunes for all this time. 

"Why?" Pinky whispered. "I don't understand. Why are you doing all this?" 

An arm draped around his shoulders in what was supposed to be a gesture of comfort, but only felt restraining instead. 

Too late, he realized Prince Snowball had been watching everything from the sidelines, content to watch the villagers throw Papa and Slappy into the wagon without lifting a finger. 

"Poor Pinky," Prince Snowball shook his head, like he was scolding a naughty child. "If you'd been cooperative from the beginning, we could've avoided all this trouble. But alas, I am forced to take drastic action to ensure my ascension to the throne.” 

Pinky tensed in Snowball’s tight hold. It was nothing like the Beast’s, whose touch was often hesitant, but comforting too. But Snowball’s hand was like ice, lacking the warmth of the Beast’s. 

“Please, Snowball,” Pinky pleaded. “They don’t deserve this. You know they don’t.” 

But Snowball only shrugged. “I’m sorry it had to come to this, Pinky. Truly I am. But as a prince, I must regrettably make tough decisions. However, I might be able to clear up this little…ah, misunderstanding on one condition.” 

“What do you want then? Is it money?” Pinky asked, though he had a sinking feeling that Snowball wasn’t after something monetary in nature. “Cause I don’t have any right now, but I’m sure I can scrape something up if you give me some time and-” 

“My crown alone is worth more than all the wages you’ve ever earned in your life,” Snowball smirked. “But, if you become my queen, you could have a crown just like this one. You would never be impoverished again, and your father and that irritating squirrel shall never be admitted to the Maison des Lunes. My offer is a rather generous one, so think carefully, if you have anything besides fluff between your ears.”

Pinky wrenched himself away from Snowball’s iron grasp. He had nowhere to run, no safe refuge in the village. 

“What?” he whispered. He hadn’t thought much about Snowball during his time at the castle, apart from the occasional relief that he wouldn’t have to deal with him. 

But Snowball only smirked. “No need for alarm, Pinky. Of course, it’ll take some time to get you up to speed with the civilized ways of French royalty. Etiquette lessons, finer clothes, erasing your peasant heritage and replacing it with a background more befitting of the bourgeoisie, and…oh, how could I forget? Voice lessons are in order, of course. You’ll need to rid yourself of those annoying verbal tics of yours to fit in.” 

Beast never told me to erase narf or poit or zort…. 

“One little word, Pinky,” Snowball said. “That’s all it takes.” 

The stress of tonight finally spilled over, and Pinky’s fists clenched together. “No!” he snapped. “I won’t become your queen, Snowball! You don’t care about me at all, you just want me so you can have the throne! Well, you can look somewhere else! Because no means no!” 

The crowd gasped at Pinky’s defiance, but Snowball simply folded his arms and shook his head in disappointment. 

“A pity it had to come to this,” Snowball growled. “So you won’t become a queen at all? Not even if it meant saving your loony father who won’t shut up about a beast? How selfish.”

Even at his worst, the Beast heard him out when Pinky offered to trade himself for his father. But Snowball wouldn’t listen to him at all. Whatever Snowball wanted, he wouldn’t take no for an answer. 

Too late, Pinky realized that his refusal meant that Papa would be locked away. Forever. 

And that wasn’t worth his freedom. Horrified, Pinky turned to his father to plead forgiveness, he would take it back, he would agree to the marriage if it meant-

But his father fixed him with an unusually stern gaze that made Pinky feel like a small child again. 

“Don’t take it back, Pinky!” Papa shouted over the roar of the crowd. “Take your freedom and run! Slappy and I will be alright if it means you and Skippy can walk free!” 

No, you won’t be fine! 

The Maison des Lunes showed no mercy to anyone unfortunate enough to land themselves in a cell. 

But there was nothing he could do to convince them that Papa wasn’t crazy, that he wasn’t making up the story of a beast in a castle, nothing Pinky could say that would make Snowball change his mind-

Wait! 

In a flash of inspiration, Pinky hurried inside the cottage, passed by a stunned Wakko, and pulled the silver mirror out from his saddlebag he’d left in the bedroom. 

If he just showed them the Beast was real, they’d have to believe Papa was right! Then nobody would think Papa was crazy and try to throw him into an asylum! 

“Beast is real and I can prove it!” Pinky yelled as he rushed outside, though the crowd just scoffed and rolled their eyes. He held up the silver mirror. “Show me Beast!” 

As soon as he said the magic words, the mirror flashed a bright green, and Pinky held up the mirror as high as he could for all to see. 

The crowd gasped, recoiling in wide-eyed horror. Snowball and Itch hid their surprise better, but were still unprepared for the loud, mournful roar erupting from the Beast’s throat. 

“Is he dangerous?” a woman cried out, clutching her baby like she was afraid the Beast was suddenly going to come out from the mirror and rip the baby away from her.

Pinky quickly descended the porch, trying to dispel the villagers’ concerns. “He isn’t dangerous,” Pinky said, silently begging for someone to believe him. “Please, I know he looks scary, but he works hard at everything he does, and he’s a little shy, but he gives warm hugs and dances beautifully and reads stories to me at night, and he was actually very sweet once I got to know him. But most of all, he’s my…he’s my friend.” 

We’re friends, aren’t we? Isn’t that…the right word? 

But ‘friend’ didn’t describe just how dear the Beast had become to him. 

His heart fluttered as he gazed at the Beast’s image, wishing he could reach through the mirror and touch his fur. 

“Don’t tell me you actually have feelings for that monster!” Snowball scoffed as he stomped up to Pinky, jabbing his chest with an accusing finger.  

Snowball had no right to call the Beast something so awful! He didn't know him, bond with him, or cuddle or dance or dine with him like Pinky did! 

"He's not the monster, Snowball!" Pinky snapped. "You are!" 

The villagers gasped at Pinky’s accusation.  

But Pinky's bravado vanished as Snowball's ice-cold hand seized his wrist and wretched the mirror from his grasp. But what truly stunned Pinky was the cruel glare Snowball gave him, his casual, self-assured demeanor gone. 

It was replaced by something truly spiteful, fueled by bitterness and rage. 

"You're just as insane as that old mouse who sired you," Snowball growled, shoving Pinky away from him and walking away with the mirror. 

"Give my mirror back!" Pinky shouted, but nobody would listen to him. 

Pinky tried to reach for the mirror, desperate not to lose his connection with the Beast, but Snowball was already surrounded by villagers, surrounded by rising flames. The mirror was held high over Snowball's head, the villagers glaring hatefully at the Beast's image. 

Could none of them see what Pinky saw in the mirror? 

The Beast's roar was sad and longing, not scary at all even though it thundered above the flames. 

Snowball dropped the mirror carelessly and raised his royal scepter, lip curling with disgust at the image of the Beast. 

"The Beast is a threat to this village!" Snowball declared, slamming his scepter onto the wooden fencepost on which he stood with such force that it nearly dented the scepter. "He will steal your children in the night as you sleep!" 

The women gasped, holding their children in protective embraces. 

"He will raid your crops, ransack your mills, and destroy your livestock to feed his insatiable appetite!" Snowball shouted. "There won't be any coop or stable he hasn't broken into!" 

The men clutched their pitchforks tightly, their torches burning like an inferno. 

“And once your livelihoods are destroyed, he will pick you off one by one! Starting with the young, the elderly, the sick and lame and anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path! If we don’t rise up and take action now, then there will be no village left to defend!” 

He had to stop Snowball from feeding everyone these terrible lies about the Beast! But as much as Pinky tried to worm his way into the crowd, tried to shout Snowball down, tried to beg everyone to reconsider, his pleas went ignored. 

“We won’t be safe until we kill the Beast!” 

Pinky’s blood ran cold.

With Snowball’s final decree, the villagers went into a frenzy as they armed themselves with knives and guns and any other weapon they could find. 

“Kill the Beast! Kill the Beast! Kill the Beast!” they chanted endlessly, surrounded by hellish red flames and plumes of dark smoke. 

Pinky covered his ears, but he couldn’t block out that horrible mantra. It pierced through his heart and soul, repeating itself endlessly in his mind. 

If you hadn’t shown them the Beast, they wouldn’t be trying to kill him!  

“Please stop! You know he’s never gone after the village before!” Pinky cried. “You didn’t even believe he was real ten minutes ago! He’s my friend, he won’t do those things Snowball says he’s doing!” 

But nobody listened. 

The men were already leaving behind parting words for their wives and children. Two young boys even tried to follow their fathers into the fray, but were held back by their mothers. 

“Do you see what that monster has done to poor, simple Pinky over there?” Snowball roared as he mounted his enormous horse. “He has placed a wicked spell on Pinky, forcing him to believe that the creature was his friend, but we all know it’s just a ploy to lower our guard and render us vulnerable!” 

He’d never been forced to be the Beast’s friend! They just found some common ground, that’s all there was to it! 

But Pinky’s throat wouldn’t work. He couldn’t tell them the truth about the Beast, not that anyone would believe him. His legs gave out, exhausted by the emotional stress of not knowing where home was anymore and discovering that people he’d known for years were willing to murder someone he cared about dearly. His tail dragged lifelessly on the ground, his ears limp against his back. 

Tears streamed down his face, the world blurring around him. 

Papa and Slappy would be taken away. The Beast and the entire castle were in danger. 

It’s my fault. I’m sorry, everyone…

The Beast would never want to be friends with him if he’d known that Pinky had sent his village to kill him in cold blood. Pinky didn’t blame him. He wouldn’t want to be friends with himself either. 

His ears pricked up at the heavy clopping of hoofsteps. 

Pharfignewton? 

But doubt clouded his mind, and the horse in front of him was too large and dark to be Pharfignewton. 

And Snowball was its rider, looming above him. His pink eyes burned a demonic red. 

“Thank you for bringing this matter to my attention,” Snowball said pleasantly, like he hadn’t just incited a mob to murder Pinky’s dearest friend. “My reign shall be secured once the Beast is slayed.”  

“...h-he didn’t do anything to you. Snowball, y-you know this is wrong-” Pinky begged. 

Why was he the only one who could see that? 

“Silence! That monster is a threat to my kingdom, and it must be dealt with accordingly!” Snowball snarled, his faux pleasant voice disappearing completely. “And I won’t tolerate your disrespect any longer. You will address me properly as your Prince or face the consequences. Monsieur Itch!” 

Itch stepped through the bonfire with a wicked smirk, the flames not fazing him at all. 

“Guard that simpleton for me until this ordeal is over,” Snowball ordered. “Throw him in with the others. Don’t let him escape, or he might try to warn the monster himself. I will come for him once the Beast has been slain.” 

“I knew things were bound to get interesting,” Itch said, and a searing hot hand clamped around Pinky’s tail. 

Pinky tried to free himself, but he could only dangle uselessly in the air. 

Snowball and the mob vanished into the night, their ‘kill the Beast’ mantra ringing through the forest. And Snowball had taken the mirror with him, the Beast’s final gift stolen away forever. 

Itch hurled Pinky into the wagon, and Pinky slammed into the unforgiving floor. Papa was at his side in an instant, drawing Pinky into a tight, comforting hug. 

But Pinky could only sob into his father’s shoulder. He knew he didn’t deserve this, not when it was his fault that everyone he cared about was in danger. 

But he selfishly clung to his father anyway. 

“Now don’t give me that glum look,” Itch scolded. “Cheer up. We’ll have plenty of fun before he comes back.” 

And the wagon door slammed shut, trapping them in darkness. 

End AN: You know, Belle’s return to the cottage and the village showing up to take her father away seems like a scene that isn’t talked about enough.

Belle is a strong character, but if you think about the scene from her POV, she leaves someone she loves dearly (even if she doesn’t know it yet) and all her friends behind, she’s caring for her ailing father, then the asylum director shows up at her door and tells her that he’s taking her father away, then she discovers just how low Gaston is willing to stoop to force her into marriage, she and her father are mocked and humiliated and called crazy by the entire town, and as if all that wasn’t enough, Gaston incites a mob to kill the Beast all because she rejected him.

I’m kinda disappointed that I haven’t seen a BatB fic that would cover how she felt about all that in the aftermath. It would definitely make a good post curse hurt/comfort story.

I chose Wakko as the Warner who would go chasing after Pinky cause he hasn’t really gotten a chance to shine much in this story. I find that Yakko and Dot tend to do all the talking while he does his own thing in the background. The next chapter will be his POV.

#pinky and the brain #beauty and the beast au

[gayspock]

okay tldr im just kinda ... eye twitch at that whole parter LOL

like ehrhgh. SO preface: i think its always the case with "cliff hangers" wherein the reason why they fall flat so often is, like, if the actual cliffhanger itself is so... perfunctory. like they just do it because they felt like they had to leave us hanging on some tense situation - but the thing is, like? you dont NEED to orchestrate that, man; you already had our attention. so its so stupid then if like... they just resolve the situation in 0.2 seconds in the next episode. but its like yknow... its sth a lot of shows do unncessarily and ultimately if it is just a really weird blip when transitioning between eps its like. whatever.

BUT thats all to say... the end of s3 COULD have been a good use of a cliffhanger, yeah? because it's establishing, like, a pretty specific situation with longer lasting consequences than just saving someone from immediate danger in the first scene. but then they FUMBLEDDD ti like...

ough you set up sth genuinely kinda neat. i dont know why they walked it back so fast AND also made the things they did right less effective. like they open up s4 with john sooo alone and its genuinelykinda tragic but then by the end of the ep chiana's already back and its like so what... and then they all IMMEDIATELY reconnect next ep and its like- they dont even really get a proper freaking reaction, when its implied john's been out there alone for god knows how long on a dying ship like... its like nothing happened and

its like. i just feel like if ur not going to utilise the situations you construct - bc this is fiction, and you do construct the situations - why.... construct them? bc if you were gonna reunite everyone with so few consequences, we could have instead spent more time where it was worth instead. but no... and tbh that makes the cliffhanger thing even WORSE bc now u have to waste time walking it back to reset it... and its also a loss of momentum, you know? like- i know im bingeing this, so its a different viewing experience so maybe momentum isnt the right word, but yeah...i guess it just sort of sets the expectations and tone totally out of whack with what they initially establish and not in a good/intentional way

especiallyyyy bc then these two eps after ep 1... arghh!! bc of that they already are building off a strange foundation - but then with these, everything feels so rushed and sloppy. i genuinely had to check- did they kno abt cancellation, pre-production? bc i thought they were trying to speed through it but... naur, like...

farscape in the past has been one of the few shows to pull off the "just fucking throw EVERYTHING IN THERE!" bc it knows how to move quickly, and matter of factly but here its just like... stuff was just weak. i think, usually, when it DOES introduce a lot fast it knows how to really build them up. it uses super simple concepts and then layers them really well. here, not so much... i feel like the whole planet situation was, eh, contrived? is that the best word for it? its introducing a lot of weird mechanics to how it works- and maybe that'd be fine, usually, but again with everything else going on its like they introduce way too much, too fast. like oo-nii, also- i really loved the design, actually, loved the colour, but also kinda a really strange addition in here.

and i hthink its worsened with grammy granola grime bc i SAID I LIKED HER, I DO, but ive always felt with the more "spiritual aspects" (for lack of a better word) such as stark and zhaan they come close but also they kinda ... dont... pull it off ever. SORRY lol. i mean stark- actually stark did have some really good stuff in his first introduction, but i feel like its always so ill-defined in the bad way where it sort of feels like their nebulous abilities are used moreso to plaster over places in stories where they didnt know what to do rather than an actual exploration into something more interesting . like theres always a very shaky core to them- and that kinda sucks, bc you do NEED something even if you are trying to go for mystery or surrealism bc theres a difference between that and just kinda. yeah. anyways

thats all to say like. all of these issues and again entrenching some really important and heavy subject matter... EEK...!

like even just the minor shit. jool and d'argo. eh, man. just burnt through the whole damn thing in this ep... OK, LOL. IDC ABOUT IT? sorry... i just think its so weird how they handle other romances bc johnaeryn are so fucking organic and well-paced and claudia and ben do such a good job with the intimacy between them that just makes it real as fuck whereas like... everyone else is strange, man... eh. why'd you do it. come on man. its a shame bc i praised them in s1 bc they were pretty normal about zhaan and d'argo- kinda saying "oh, there's tension sometimes but otherwise its like eh theyre not super into it theyre just chilling as friends tbh" which is a dynamic that i actually find refreshing tbh... the more casual nature of it, yeah? as its told moreso through subtext and interactions whereas its like man what the fuck. everything with dargo otherwise has been, like, just so tell not show wtf...

and the major shit. i know the confirmation that jool's species are related to humans somehow is important. but its like... amongst this whole ep that whole thing really didnt have any impact bc like i said. its kinda all over. uhm. idk how i feel abt that. uhm well ... i dont like it. ok. SORRY. LOL.

but thats less so about it being done here even if it wasnt so good andmoreso i dont really want... them to be related... i dont know. what i liked about farscape was how it treated humans- john was never something special in the way trek always put "HUMANITTYYY" on a pedestal and forced the universe through human's perspective and culture and morality etc.... i really fucking hope it isnt some, like, "humans are their great ancestors" type of thing, that'd be the worst - ive had enough of that through shitty dw fan theories

and also just, like, in general ughghghg i DONT LIKE it when like.. there's a whole univers,e yes? its so infinitely huge and... well idk if it's coincedental, yet, but i dont like how small it makes the universe feel when it just so happensss that its humans like... AGAIN i think it detracts from whats established already, about how crichton is so far away from everything hes ever known ... it makes everything so much smaller in perspective and its just... ssorry to 🤓 but its soo 🤓unrealistic! AND YES YES YES its a damn fiction show- but i mean... within the established show, is what imean, bc i dont really care about technicalities USUALLY until then yeah its actually affecting the narrative where i think it is here and anyways thats speculation bc

AND OK

CANT SKIP AROUND IT

HEAVY SUBJECT MATTER

right the thing is i said it yesterday. i am not against them deciding to have *that* happen to john, in any capacity. there are respectful and meaningful ways you can explore that type of thing with care.

and its odd. bc i look at the time period this was done - and fucking hell, even comparing it to now - and theres stuff with the execution here thats... and i hesitate to say it, but it's almost... good... like.. im talking specifically about john's reaction and performance bc- god, even nowadays i feel like in media it doesnt always... get handled, well? but god- john doesnt take it well, and it isnt brushed off by the *narrative* in some parts (ehrm).. like i meanthe show knows that thats really fucked up, it acknowledges johns pain, and god like. i dont know; mauybe ben browder's performance was carrying, there, but what i mean is like.. even now i feel like with men, this type of thing isnt taken seriously or depicted like this with the grace given in PARTS of this, but also like...

GOD WITH EVERYTHING GOING ON. AND ALSO... D'ARGOS REACTION. UHM. LIKE EVERYONE ELSE'S- that just felt so fucking wrong, man. like jesus. and i mean, well, i think sometimes people do project a morality onto characters - expect a perfect reaction to things like this, when thats just not how people are, yknow - and i wouldnt want that either if it wasnt true, as i think an important aspect of this conversation IS reaction/others' perception but.. THIS? COME ON, MAN.. that whole bit is brushed off andits... icky which... again if d'argo and co misunderstood/brushed it off normally i'd be fine but its also like- the show itself brushes off them brushing it off, is my issue? no rumination on their reaction, which as i said an important aspect of that but... yeah. yeah.

and yeah. the thing in the first place- its also just sort of... ugh. like unnecessary. like- bc it isnt really reflected on much here it jsut... i dont think its shock-value territory, but it just feels like kind of a pointless jump to make - something a bit needlessly..,cruel... to approach such a serious topic when you really dont have the space to properly handle that kind of thing right now. and also its not- like from a story perspective it isnt... establishing anything, man, like... you could still have grayza domineering and even have her still like manipulate people through some similar means without that added layer (or hell, even everything up until that part with crichton i was kinda unnerved by but it didnt cross a line for me) and it would still be as effective. its not like the aurora chair or the neural clone wherein the consequences of them both have longstanding implications and do actually properly escalate-escalate, here its just like... alright lets just.. yeah. ok....

anyways

im kinda annoyed jool is now leaving like did her actress wanna go i mean thats okay if thats the case but like i dont like the revolving door character situation we've been having with regards to introducing new people like i just think it'd be fine man if you didnt. LOL

anyways

this isall so negative nancy SORRY LOLLLL im still having fun ofc its just OUGH... i swear, every opener i go through kind of a . ughhpart. at least it feels that way- maybe im misremembering

#Egg.txt #farscape liveblog

[babsvibes]

hi! I love your louigan fics. Thank you for hosting the ship week! I had a question sort of about it. I’m in another similarly small fandom and was wondering how you got engagement for it? Your fics tend to get more comments than others too, and I guess I’m kind of wondering what your secret is?

Ah!! Thank YOU for being so sweet. I’m glad you enjoyed the ship week and my fics! 🥰🥰 I can take your ask a couple of different ways, so let me know if I got it wrong or if you would like my “how to” guide on running a ship week!

Besides the “people like the ship and are too freaking amazing” answer, in my opinion a lot of it comes down to making people feel seen and appreciated. You’re asking people to CREATE and, worse yet, talk to other people, which is like… a whole nerve-wracking thing lol. When someone does take a chance to put something out, you have to show gratitude for it. Especially since everything they’re doing is so amazing!

One of the easiest ways to do that is by leaving comments and responding to comments you get on your own work (see what I did there? See how I tied that in? Lol)

How to respond to comments:

Mirror their energy

If you’re nervous about coming across as “too (blank)” then take it back to psych 101 by mirroring their comment. Enthusiasm, specificity, and amount of detail are key here. Below are a few examples:

I liked this a lot :) please keep writing - Thank you I definitely plan too 🥰

This was amazing! When Character A did Thing with Character B? I lost my mind! - You’re too sweet! Actually, (background information on Scene they expressed interest in). I appreciate you so much for reading!

I hate you so much 😩😩 how dare you leave me on a cliffhanger like thiiisss?! I’m frothing at the mouth and I cannot WAIT to read more! - Whoops 😈 I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not. Lmao, I’m glad you’re liking the story! Maybe we’ll get to see more soon. Maybe we won’t. Only time will tell 😘

Make them feel special

I know this one can be difficult when some comments are sorta the same, but try to avoid copying and pasting a response to everyone. Just because you’ve said thank you to ten people doesn’t mean that the person commenting wants to feel like they’re only one of ten people. Try to use a mix of these:

Thank you

I appreciate you

Your comment means a lot to me

I wish you and your family good health through the long winter

Be specific

Earlier I mentioned giving background info on a scene someone liked. If someone points out a line of dialogue, character action, or anything specific in your work, you can show them gratitude by giving a behind-the-scenes look at how that part came to be. Something like:

I was listening to (this song) when I wrote that

That bit almost didn’t make it into the cut, but I kept it because (reason)

This was inspired by (a thing in canon), which I think (how canon connects to your work)

Be personable

Of all of them, this is probably the hardest for me to explain. I know how hard it can be to just… “be” charismatic, you know? But here’s some ways to come off like a real, likable human being lol:

You talk a certain way. Write the way you speak. I rarely say “you guys” so I’m gonna use “y’all” when I respond. If you’re not a formal person, don’t respond formally. “I appreciate your comment and am going to reread it quite often” is different from “I love this and I’m gonna stare at it forever.”

It’s okay to be vulnerable. Don’t harsh on your own work, but it’s okay to say “I was nervous about the pacing, so it means a lot you would comment on it.”

Lean into your strengths. If someone has said you’re funny, tell a joke. If someone has said you’re kind, be sweet. If someone’s told you you’re smart, share something from the technical side of your work. You don’t need to be someone else when you interact with other people.

I hope this was helpful! And I hope none of y'all use this against me when I respond to comments lol

#babsbles #asks #how to babs #thank you for the ask!! #I do really hope this helps you and lemme know if I compleeeetely misunderstood

[pt-disconnected]

Honestly this is such a good continuation of pt before i found this i was worried i would fall out of the fandom before chapter 3 4 5 came out but since this is shaping up to (hopefully) be on for a long time im sticking into this fandom for the long hall also can i make a tv tropes page?

Honestly the fact that you enjoy this story alone is a positive for me. I’m surprised that so many people are enjoying it, really. My expectation when I started this was that maybe a couple dozen would read it as a sort of way to remove the pain of the cliffhanger ending (since even now Lynx is getting asked about that… oof). I would have figured that other people would have their own at this point (which would have been fine by me really!) but this is still the only thing of this sort… and to my surprise there’s over a hundred people following the blog, which shows that I certainly underestimated the results.

As usual, anyone who wants to contribute to either this story or make their own can do just that, and I’d be happy to see it. This blog revolves around the fact that we’re making our own ending. I’m just sharing my idea. (And time travel was kinda thrown in when I realized Kris’ last SAVE from Paper Trail was back in Lairse’s world at the crossroads. So I decided to talk with Lynx to confirm how time travel worked in their DOFP comic, and use the concepts there- after all, if I’m continuing Lynx’s comic I should use the same mechanics as Lynx’s comics. (And The GIF is keeping things in line with how it once was too! I want to stay as faithful as I can with the original!)

The only reason I make this in writing and not a comic is because my art is not the best, and takes ages. I doubt this blog would be as popular if I used a comic, haha. I’m really good with writing compared to my art skills, though- so I use that instead. Plus it means I can possibly make two parts in a day if I get really motivated! So… yeah, in my case, writing works a lot better. It even reinforces the ‘make your own’ portion by leaving it all up to the reader’s imagination- your mind is what decides the Player’s appearance.

As for you wanting to make a TV Tropes page for this, go ahead. I don't mind at all!

Again, sorry for completely forgetting this ask in my drafts- I feel really bad about this and I will ensure this doesn't happen twice. (...Well, thrice, since it technically did happen twice... you get my point...)

#undertale #deltarune #paper trail #pt-disconnected #anon asks

[peggysousfan]

WIP Game answered Fic 2

2) A Twisted Reality

This story is one of my favorites tbh. It is very dark, twisty, with a lot of heartbreak, and fluff, and so much development and trust growing. I’ve posted about this fic before on my other account, but here is a peek at chapter 26! 

(Yes 26, you read that correctly, this story is very, verrry long and not at all finished yet)

"She told you she doesn't know!" Bellamy groans in frustration.

Ever since the incident occurred and security was called upstairs, Bellamy has been with them every second of the interrogation, refusing to leave her side. Clarke nearly had a panic attack when they tried to make him leave, she screamed and fought against the security who grabbed her arms and tried to force her to leave. Only when she was near Bellamy would she calm down. Not wanting to cause more of a scene than what has already occurred, they allow Bellamy to stay with her.

"I'm well aware of what she has said. But we have sever damage done to out facilities, a woman injured and covered in blood that clearly belongs to someone else, very little of it is her own, and there is no body to be found in the area. There's no witnesses or footage of anyone on the camera's. So, we have a situation here." The security guard looks at Clarke expectantly while she continues to stare blankly at her hands.

The blood has dried but that wasn't what kept her gaze so planted on them, she was her left thumb over and over aging her right palm. Bellamy looks down and notices it rubbed raw, her skin red and irritated. He takes her hand in his own and intertwines their fingers to ground her. She takes a deep breath and looks up to him, her eyes glassing over. She didn't remember everything, that wasn't a lie. But she knew this security guard wasn't going to allow them to go anywhere, especially her, without some sort of answers. So she gives the only explanation she could, and it was the truth.

"I was attacked. Someone came from behind. I hit my head."

"Okay then. That's a start. But that doesn't explain the blood or the knife that was clearly used." Bellamy squeezes her hand tight in his. her breathing picking up the pace. He knew it was a clear sign she was on the verge of hyperventilating.

"I-I don't know!"

"Hey, hey its okay. Look at me." Bellamy cups her cheek forcing her eyes to look into his own. The guard watches as she takes several deep breaths and begins to calm down.

"As heart warming as it is with you two, we aren't done here"

"I beg to differ officer." Another voice comes from behind. Bellamy turns and finds none other than Miller's dad standing at the door. He locks eyes with Bellamy and gives a subtle nod. Stay quiet and I'll handle this. Bellamy gets the message and keeps Clarke looking at him, steadying her breathing.

"And you are?"

"Chief Miller of Arkadia PD. I believe we can take it from here."

"With all due respect,sir-"

"My officers have taken this case and run a through investigation. Its quite clear this young woman was attacked and defended herself case closed."

"I beg to differ." The security guard argues. "I bet you would. You see, sir. This woman is a high class case and severely anemic. With  trauma comes memory loss. So if she was to say... fight for her life, she would likely forget what happened. So this interrogation will get you nowhere. As of today she is under the protective services from Arkadia PD. Whatever damages sustained will be covered by the state. Now if you'll excuse us."

@stairwaydowntohell​

Also here’s a snippet from a early chapter because it leaves a cliffhanger lol

"The only thing we can do is wait. I'm sorry." Is all Jackson could say.

Though Abby knew he was sincere, it didn't help the pit in her stomach from growing larger than it already was. Jackson always was  sincere with his patience and their families. Unlike most doctors who struggle with empathy, Jackson was the few who felt not only empathy, but was compassionate and patient. He felt what the families did and so much more. It was because of this she knew he wished he could do more. But all they could do was wait and see.

Jackson steps aside and allows Abby to reach for the door handle, her hand trembling as she does. The door creaking slowly as she takes a small step inside. Immediately her eyes fall on the still body in the bed, her blonde hair the first thing she sees. Only it wasn't just blonde, their were pink tips at the end. She looks to Jackson but he shrugs unknowingly. With a deep breath she takes another step, the young woman's face coming into view. Most of her body was covered with the gown and blanket, but the bruises along her arms, neck, and face contrasted greatly with her pale skin.  There were cuts and scraps all along her cheek and arms. Her right eye was swollen with a deep cut above her brow, the stiches woven in to close it tight, and the of the bruising colors of red and yellow fighting for domination. Her eyes was irritated, but from the coloration, it was healing.

Nonetheless  it took Abby everything in herself to not break down. Eve throughout all the injuries on the young woman's face, the familiar nose and mole over her lip, it would be impossible not to recognize that face. DNA match or not, Abby Griffin felt in in her bones the moment her eyes fell on the body before her. Her daughter was truly alive

Jackson moves a chair beside Clarke's bed for Abby before leaving the room quietly, giving the mother time to be alone with her long lost daughter. It was then she finally let the tears fall. Her trembling hands reached out to clasp Clarke's own, a breath she didn't realize she was holding let it self out. Her skin was so cold and body frail. But she was real. One good look up close and another round of tears fall, her head resting on their joined hands as they do. Clarke wasn't her little girl anymore, she was a young woman.  Eleven years she has missed out with her daughter. All this time Jake was right, and they can never get that time back.

Lost in her thoughts, Abby Griffin doesn't notice the sharp in take of breath, nor does she see the eyes of the girl before her her fluttering open. No, she doesn't notice any thing different until a croaking voice utters the words that shatter her heart completely.

"Who are you?"

#bellarke #the 100 #modern au #angst central!! #this story gets very very dark #very quickly #its also very twisty #hence the title lol #strangers to friends to lovers #memory loss #anemia #trauma #Wip #draft #my writing #i wont be able to post all 10 today but will try to post a few every day if possible

[m95theliveblogger]

Gunnerkrigg Liveblog #2: Surma

Been a while since I last posted.

The name of our first chapter is "Of New And Old." It starts (7.98) with Kat and Annie walking outside the building as a creepy bird thing looks at them. Mr. Elgamore is running as if something is wrong (7.99). What's going on?

Well, we have to wait and see, because the next scene (7.100) is a flashback to that morning. Antimony (Annie) is talking with a grown-up couple named Donald and Anja Dolan. Elgamore is there, and apparently the Dolans have a personal history in dealing with Reynardine (7.101). The Dolans also have an old school photo (7.102):

Well, that's interesting. One of them looks like Annie; perhaps it's her mum? Good observation, because they indeed are (7.103), which means the Dolans knew Annie's parents, yet even they don't know where Annie's father is (7.104). I've read enough fiction to know that it's probably not something mundane like him going off to get milk.

Next up: Annie shows everyone her Reynardine-in-a-Plushie (7.105-106). Seems like Anja Dolan has some supernatural powers to bind Reynardine. But when they prepare to off Reynardine, apparently Annie steps in to defend him (7.108). I'm sorry, what now? Annie, have you read any sort of sci-fi or fantasy story before? If there's an ancient entity trapped in a prison, especially if it can possess people, then it's probably there for a good reason.

Mr. Elgamore and the Dolan family are surprised by this (7.109). They mention someone named "Surma," which prompts Elgamore to pull out Plot-Relevant Item #2, which is this knife:

Assuming that "James" is Elgamore's first name, this Surma person probably gave it to him as a gift. Surma also appears to have been in love with him. But whoever she (I assume they're a "she") is, Surma is gone in some way.

Back at school, Kat and Annie talk (7.110), with the Dolans apparently being Kat's parents.

But then they look out the window and see someone walking on the bridge (7.112). Annie runs out to look (7.113) and finds her old robot and shadow buddy from several chapters ago (7.114). Mr. Elgamore is having none of this "Annie leaving school grounds" stuff (7.115). He rushes over to Annie (7.116) and then chucks a glowing sword (7.117) at the robot (7.118). But Annie starts falling off the bridge, and Mr. Elgamore reaches out to save her (7.119) while yelling "Surma!"

Hoooo-kay! Talk about a cliffhanger!

So, that's where today's chapter ends. I thought about doing a second chapter in one post this time, but today's chapter was already pretty long. So I suppose that means I'll be posting my next one a bit sooner.

#gunncourtliveblog #gunnerkrigg court

[plush-rabbit]

The Dateable's Making You Flustered

Request: Flustered scenarios with the dateables

A/N: Sorry for the bit of delay!! I really need to work faster with these (1k each)

-

Barbatos:

It’s been such a long time ever since the butler has felt some sort of attraction towards somebody. It surprises even himself and he’s able to see into the future. Yet, when he was given- or rather forced- into a day off, the first place where his mind had wandered had been to you. It was you that he thought of first. He didn’t have a clue on what he wanted to do, but when he was told that he had the day off- no exceptions- his mind had automatically gone to spending time with you. Barbatos wonders what changed that made you so important to him- he wonders when it happened, how it snuck past him and caught him by surprise.

He invited you on his day off, had sent you a quick message asking you’d like to accompany him around Devildom to pick up a few things for himself rather than the usual outing to the market. You had graciously agreed and now he stands beside you, his hand on a book and you peering to see what’s written on it.

“What’s the book about?” You ask, haven given up on trying to figure out what it was that had gotten his attention.

A few demons reach around and pull a book away from the shelf, talking excitedly to one another and he moves to stand closer to you. He smiles at you and holds the book close to him, already deciding to purchase it. “It’s an old tale from Devildom, similar to your Hansel and Gretal but this one is a bit more heavy.” You give out a hum, pleased at his answer and nod your head. “If you’d like, I could lend it to you once I’m done.”

“Oh!” You gasp, grabbing at the same book and holding towards you. “I’ll just take one with me,” you offer and he can’t help but feel a little disappointed that you didn’t want to take his. “This way, we can read at the same time and then discuss. If it’s supposed to be similar to Hansel and Gretal, I’m sure that I’ll enjoy it. Plus-” you look up at him, your smile kittenish the book pulled to your chest- “it can be like our secret book club. I’ve been needing an excuse to go to the castle and visit, so this will be perfect,” you say excitedly, see-sawing between the tips of your shoes and back to your soles.

“You don’t need an excuse to visit the castle.” He hooks his arm with yours, slowly pushing you away from where a growing crowd of demons appear. “You know you’re always welcomed. The Young Lord would never dare to shut the door in your face.” He stops near the corner end of the store, his eyes attracted to a few trinkets where he reaches for.

The book is lowered and you shift your stare to where you both once stood. “And you?” His attention is grabbed immediately and he looks at you with a confused stare. You meet his eyes for a moment before you pull away. “Would you mind if I came over?” You clear your throat and look down, your bottom lip pinched between your teeth. “I wouldn’t want to…” you trail off, clearly unable to find the proper words. “I wouldn't want to distract you or make your work any more difficult than it already is.”

He can feel the back of his neck grow hot. He can’t be mistaken by what your words mean. You want to know what he thinks of you, if you’re welcomed in his eyes. His shoulders lower and he smiles at you, his hand reaching out to take your book from your hands. When you look up at him, he has his gaze kept on the title of the book, following the rise and fall of each letters.

“You’re always welcomed.” He takes in a small breath and fixes his gaze back to you. “You could never be a distraction for me. If you wish to have a secret book club with me, then I am more than honored to be your guest.” He clears his throat and looks away from you, his smile slowly growing but wavering as he lets out a shaky breath. “You make work easier. I enjoy my job, but I must say that when you’re around, the only thing I can think of is finishing in order to spend more time with you. Being around you is… nice.” He returns his stare back to you. “I’ve been around for a very long time, but when you’re around me, well, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so young. I’m not sure what it is about you-” he raises a hand and holds your cheek- “but I find myself happy whenever I’m with you. So please, never think that you are a bother towards me. You’re always free to visit- whether it be for our secret book club-” he returns the book to you, smiling when your fingertips brush against his- “or just because, I’ll always make time for you.”

It might be cruel of him, but he can’t help but smile and let out a quiet chuckle when you press your face against the book. “Barbatos,” you say in a hushed whisper. He only hums in response, glad that his words had such an effect on you. You look up at him with a faux pout and furrow of your brows while he stands there with a wide grin. Your eyes turn away from him and you finally let a smile appear. “Thanks for the reassurance,” you mutter.

“Of course. Nothing that I said was a lie, so it was quite easy to let the words out, you know,” he teases, grabbing the book from you before you have another chance to hide yourself. “Now, is there anything else you’d like to see in the store, or do you wish to go somewhere else?”

“I uh-” still flustered, you rub your cheek where his hand once was- “can we check out the manga section?”

He hooks his arm through yours, his body close enough to where he can smell the sweet scent of your perfume. “Lead the way,” he says, following your footsteps through the store. He isn’t sure when his feelings towards you had changed, he doesn’t even recall the giddiness of when it all started, but he doesn’t mind it. It’s a nice change of pace. You’re something unpredictable and reckless, and something soft and fragile, and he welcomes having you so close to him, to where he could lean over and press his lips against the crown of your head and keep you protected under his touch. Barbatos welcomes the change that you brought and while the change wasn’t originally for him, he enjoys that it is for him now, that you’re the one that gets to be close to him and that gets to have the pleasure of having you wanting to visit him.

Simeon:

Who could have ever thought that he, an angel, would fall in love with a human? The very thing that an angel had created a war for, the very thing that caused him to lose those close to him, and the very thing that had shown just how different he was from someone he had considered a brother, he now commits the same unholy act. He must be a hypocrite. He is a hypocrite. The very thing he turned a blind eye to and here he is, so undoubtedly in love with a human that he fears his wings will be ripped from him, his blood staining his clothes and his halo broken beyond repair. Terror makes his blood run cold and yet, he cannot look away from you. Simeon keeps his gaze upon you with a mixture of hesitation and melancholy and you just smile back at him, the phone in your hand shared between the two of you as you watch a parody of a teen romance on an application.

“It’s amazing how much people have grown to like this er, show?” He asks, still unsure of what to call it. “It’s considered a show, right?”

Your shoulders raise in a shrug and you give him a small, tight lipped smile. “I guess. I think most people refer to it as a series.” The phone is lowered and it returns to your lap. “It isn’t wrong to call it a show, but since they’re short little bursts of episodes, I think people find it easier to call it a series, but it can go any way.” You move away from him, scooting until your thigh is at an angle and your knee is pushed against his. “Anyways, to answer your question, yes people do like it. I think since it’s like a parody but also suspenseful with the cliffhangers, it keeps people entertained.” He nods his head slowly, and he tries to ignore the rush of cold that is now at his empty side. “Did you like it?”

His eyes slightly widen, and his lips pull into a thin smile. “I- Well, considering the fact that it’s written and done by one person- I- It certainly is different than the things I usually consume, but-” He struggles to find a way to finish his thought without offending you in any sort of way and ends with a stiff nod of his head.

It’s a tense moment that doesn’t last long enough to linger on when you suddenly laugh. Your laugh is loud as it effectively gets him to snap his mouth shut. Your hands are waved in front of you and your knee leaves his as you curl onto the couch. “You don’t have to force yourself to like it, Simeon, I only wanted to show it to you, because you asked what I was watching.”

He appreciates you giving him an easy out, and he releases a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding. It’s a slow release and suddenly he can breathe again. “Well thank you for sharing it with me. I appreciate that from you.” Silence lingers and it isn’t like before where it’s tense, it’s lighter now, but it still feeds him an odd sense of air where he’s stuck between a breath, his eyes stuck on you.

Once more, your laughter fills the room and it’s short and sweet, a gift given to him for just the moment. “Of course, Simeon. I like spending time with you, and I especially like sharing my interests so I guess, thank you for allowing me to do that.” Your hand reaches towards his and he sees the slightest pause from you, the way your fingers twitch until you allow yourself to hold his hand and give it a gentle squeeze.

Warmth returns to him, something akin to a summer’s day in the Celestial Realm, and even though all air has left him once again, he is breathless in a way that matters, weightless and joy illuminating him. When he meets your eyes, he cannot look away and he cannot help but return your smile. The clock ticks onwards and he’s left with a heavy heart. He’s read about the perfect moment, thought about writing something so trivial and false, and yet, the perfect moment sits before him with their hand in his.

“I have to be honest with you,” he murmurs and his eyes feel hot, a lump forms in his throat that makes his words sound tighter. “I- I don’t-” How could he ever phrase what he wants to tell you? How could he drop that sort of confession on you? You know the story, would you ever want him to actually confess to you, to repeat the past mistakes and know the horrid outcome? He frowns. His eyes are stuck on the floor, running along the edge of the carpet and he can feel your gaze on him, your eyes that are heavy with concern and ever the angel, Simeon spares you and gives you the easier answer. “I’m thankful to have met you,” your name is a sweet whisper on his lips, a taste of sweet peach that makes his heart full and heavy. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as wonderful as you. I see you and I think that I’ve found something even more pure than an angel.” With every word, his hand turns to slip into yours, his gloves thin enough to feel the small crevices and calluses on your hand. “Even if you are human and you’ve committed sin, I still think that you are the most pure of them all with your kindness and generosity.”

He isn’t sure what he had expected, but he hadn’t expected to have you plant your face against the soft back cushion of the couch, your face held there for moments. Your hand slips away from his and he’s left holding empty air. His hands fret over your body and when you pull away, your face is flushed, your hands covering the lower part of your face as you look at anywhere but him.

“Simeon,” you whine, closing your eyes tightly. “That’s really sweet.” Your voice is high-pitched and your eyes open once more, as your hands finally lower. “I think I might actually die, that was really nice and something that I don’t hear often.” You finally look at him and your smile is ever growing. “Especially from an angel,” you say with a half-hearted chuckle.

His smile is soft and to him, it dulls compared to your brilliance. As if you were a puzzle, he fits into your hand with ease and grace. “Well if you were to die, I would return you in any way that I could.

Solomon:

He’s human, ageless and immortal, but human. He’s lived and loved, lost and grieved, and he’s gone numb and distant to emotions. He didn’t mind it, he welcomed it. He hated losing and hated the people that he lost and the empty space that they left. He promised that he wouldn’t ever want to feel that sense of sadness ever again. Then you came into the picture. He’s been called shady and worse words than that, but you don’t call him that. You hold his hand and you welcome him into your arms. You go on and on about the human in him and how you love that he’s there with you. Solomon isn’t sure when it was that he broke his own promise, but when he looks at you, he’s willing to love again and again.

The kitchen is a mess and powder covers the counters. His hands knead the dough and the smell of garlic and onion sizzled with oil is heaven in the air. You measure the ingredients and whisk at the eggs. It’s domestic and it’s something that leaves a storm of butterflies in his stomach. He could watch you forever, in the kitchen, with an apron tied around your waist, flour in your hands and the tip of your tongue peaking past your lips as you concentrate on rereading the cookbook. It’s domestic and it’s something he had long forgotten that he wanted.

“I have the ingredients memorized, I could simply tell you what to add,” he muses, returning to forming the bread into its shape.

“Knowing you, you’ll add something in there,” you quip, your smile now directed at him, with your tongue still pinched out. “Plus, it’s just reading. I can read,” you say with a defensive tone. “Just start dressing the bread with garlic and then we can get on with breading the chicken.” You jerk your head to where the chicken rests on the cutting board, the flour beside it.

“Okay,” he sings under his breath, returning his attention to the dough before him. The room is filled with a song from the Human Realm, a classic that has him feeling warmth in a kitchen that is not his, but with a person that is. It makes him long for another time, but when he catches you in the corner of his eye, he’s glad where he is. “I like your song choice,” he says, instantly biting the inside of his cheek once the words had left his mouth. It’s been so long since he’s ever tried to have an actual connection with someone, and he’s sure he wasn’t ever this awful at it.

“Yeah?” You step close to him, holding your hand out. “Care for a dance then?” Your smile is crooked and eyes gleaming with excitement as the song is replayed with a touch of your hand.

He’s frozen for a second, stuck in time, and rooted into place, his hand moving through thick amber as he lets his hand rest in your palm. The room is spun, colors mixing with each other and slowly blurring until he stands still, pushing you away and pulling you close, laughing and letting his hand rest against your side, his hand feeling the soft curve against your ribs. Your hands are powdered and his smell like bread, and your laugh is young and youthful. He can’t help but follow, letting his smile break out and hand slipping out of yours, to encase you in a hug where he traps you into a swaying motion.

The song fades and he’s forced to pull away, to step away from you and there’s hesitation is his steps and movements. His hands linger for a second too long, his eyes still stuck on you and his smile much softer than it was before. It’s a few seconds of silence where you take in deep, heavy breaths, and sway lightly to the song that approaches.

Your name is said and it’s sweet like honeysuckle and addicting like a drug. It’s a night where he invited you over, and now you two are busy making dinner in the kitchen and you’ve given him instructions and kept a close eye on what he does. Your perk your head and nod, allowing for him to continue. “Thank you for coming over,” he says with a tight smile on his lips.

“Anytime, Sol,” you respond, coming beside him once more. You bump your arm into his, leaning to look at the garlic mixture in a bowl. “You know I like spending time with you, so anytime you need a cooking partner, you can always call.”

He doesn’t say anything, only nodding and trying to keep the butterflies in his stomach at bay while his heart beats frantically against his chest. You move away from him, returning to where the powder rests in a bowl and he’s left without, and while the distance is short, it’s something that is unwelcomed. He’s left with dough in his hands and you’re away from him, and loneliness settles.

“Can I call you whenever?” He asks, an easy smile on his lips, but there’s a plea in his words. He’s never been the needy type, but he needs you.

“Of course, you can,” you respond and you’re as kind as ever. You turn away and close the bag of flour, pushing it aside to clear the space at the table.

Like a drug that leaves his mouth dry and heart racing, feeling as if he’s about to die, he calls your name. You’re so close to him and yet, you aren’t close enough. He needs you. He needs you beside him. And he takes the first step, standing in front of you with a red kissed face as stares at the cabinets against the wall. You call his name and your hand is tender against his neck, leaving a white stain that snows onto his shirt.

“I just wanted to thank you. I know how busy you can get and I just-” he can feel the telltale sign of tears and he wonders when he’s gotten so emotional- “I like spending time with you. I like your music choices and I like it when you cook with me- even if it’s just you giving me instructions- but I like it.” His tongue touches against his lips and he looks at you, fiddling with the end of his shirt. “I think you’re great and I just need you to know that if you ever need anything, I’ll be more than happy to help. I would do whatever it would take to make you happy because you have a really nice smile and I don’t think you should lose that.” His heart echoes and his smile is gentle and nervous. “Thank you for being with me.”

You stare at him and he wonders if he had overstepped only to gasp when you bury yourself against his chest, patting at his shoulder and pulling away with a hand covering the lower half of your face. “Solomon,” his name leaving your lips sends a jolt of electricity through him, “I’m glad. Thank you,” you whisper. Your hand reaches to pull his away from his shirt and you hold it in yours. “I like being with you too. Us humans have to stick together, right?” You say softly, letting your fingers run over his scarred knuckles.

He nods silently and leans over, his lips pressed against your forehead. “Yeah, us humans have to stick together,” he whispers against you, smiling when he feels your own lips against his knuckles. He’s with you, at this very moment, he stands in a kitchen with music playing, holding you close to him, and for a moment, he can pretend that this won’t ever end, that he won’t ever have to move away from you and risk losing you.

#obey me #obey me swd #om swd #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #barbatos x reader #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me simeon x reader #obey me solomon x reader #i hope you like it! #and that it was in charcater #i feel like i always sturggle for barbs

[lostmyhufflepuffstatus]

Paper Envelopes {Criminal Minds}

Word Count: 440

Summary: After spending days outside of Spencer's door with only one response, you're called away on a case.

Warnings: cliffhanger, I think that's it.

Genre: Angst?? Again?? I think??

A/N: This is the sequel to my fic Under the Door. Literally, only one person asked for a part two ( @andrwgfld ) but I guess that's all it takes from me lol

Requests: OPENED

The case in San Francisco had been going sideways since day one. Everyone was off their game and missing their resident genius. Morgan had tried to call him several times, only getting a call back when he left a message about something case-related. Though that call didn’t last very long when Morgan had made the mistake of asking Spencer how he was.

Spencer had called a few more times as he worked the case from his apartment and then went quiet for a while.

You were looking at a map of the area marking off the various places the unsub had left his victims bodies and where they had been abducted from. You usually were teamed up with Spencer on assignments like this, due to his intelligence for everything and your specific background in geography.

Your mind kept wandering to Spencer's door, where you had slid one final note in the crack before being called to the jet.

Did you know that locals in San Francisco named the fog Karl?

~Y/N

You had to leave before you got any sort of response from Spencer, rushing down the stairs in order to not be chewed out by Hotch for being late, again.

That first response was the only one you’d gotten, that simple thank you note was currently sitting in your pocket, you didn’t know why, but it felt like something you needed to keep close to you at all times.

Your attention was brought back to the present when Morgan waved his hand in front of your face, “Where’d you just go? Did you figure something out?” he asked with a slight chuckle.

You shook your head and blinked a few times “Oh… no, sorry.” you rubbed your eyes and looked down at the map once again.

You felt Morgan’s warm hand on your shoulder. “He’ll come back soon.” Sometimes you really hated being surrounded by profilers, even if you were one yourself. They could always tell what you were thinking, especially when you didn’t want them to.

Everyone had gone back to their own tasks when there was a new voice in the room. You were only half paying attention to what was being said, you were so focused on catching this unsub.

The thing that caught your attention was someone putting an envelope in front of your face. You were frustrated so you just took the paper and set it off to the side muttering something about how you’d open it in a bit. You rubbed your temples before you heard someone clear their throat behind you.

“Are you sure you don’t want to open it now?”

#spencer reid angst #criminal minds imagines #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds angst #criminal minds x reader

[angstymdzsthoughts]

Nooooo you can't leave us on a cliffhanger like this! 😭😭😭 Please tell us what happens to LZ after WY yells at him. Is he and the baby gonna be OK? Poor WY too will be feeling so guilty even if he didn't mean to hurt LZ 😭 do wangxian reconcile and get back together or is the rel between them forever broken? 😭😭😭

That night, after Wei Yuan had fallen asleep, Lan Wangji knocks on Wei Wuxian's door. "Please," he began. "Let me apologize... and explain myself."

Wei Wuxian was tired. It had been a long day and he still felt shitty for making Lan Wangji cry earlier and he really, really didn't feel like talking about it, but he knew it had to happen. He opened the door wider to let Lan Wangji inside.

Lan Wangji wanted to run away when Wei Wuxian sighed. He's bothering him. He's intruding where he isn't wanted. It seems to be all he ever does. He enters Wei Wuxian's room with his eyes downcast.

He takes a calming breath. "I am sorry, Wei Ying. I shouldn't have said such things. It was a lie. As much as I wish otherwise, you are not the father of the baby."

The thing is, Wei Wuxian can understand why Lan Wangji would want him to be the father. Despite everything between them, he knows that Lan Wangji thinks he's a good father. It was the highest praise Lan Wangji ever gave him when they were married. He wouldn't have let Wei Wuxian take their son with him if he had thought he would be mistreated or neglected. Even now Lan Wangji sometimes watches him with A'Yuan with a soft look in his eyes. Of course he would want his second child to have a good father.

It just sort of hurts that this is the only reason.

"Thank you," Wei Wuxian said. "I'm... thank you for apologizing. I'm sorry too. I... I shouldn't have said what I said about you not knowing who the father is. Or threatening to write to your brother. I don't really understand what you're running from, but I won't force you to face it until you're ready."

Lan Wangji could leave it at this. He could say goodnight and return to his room. Things will remain a little awkward and out of place for a few days before settling. He didn't have to tell Wei Wuxian more then then the very little he already has. He gathered as much courage as he could and said "The thing I am running from... is my brother. And Jin Guangyao. They..."

Wei Wuxian stayed quiet, waiting for Lan Wangji to find the right words. He knew all too well how conniving Jin Guangyao was. It was the mans scheming and support among the Lan clan that led to him divorcing Lan Wangji and running off with A'Yuan after all. Jin Guangyao's anger at Lan Yuan being the sects heir while he was still childless had led to multiple attempts at their lives and with Lan Wangji being pregnant...

"Did they try to make you lose the child, Lan Zhan?" He asked, unable to hold back. He wouldn't put it pass Jin Guangyao to resort to such things. Tampering with he and Yuan's meals had been a common tactic of his.

Lan Wangji shook his head. "Jin Guangyao is infertile. He will never be able to have a child. He... The two of them wanted to claim my child as their own. I had already entered seclusion after you left so no one would suspect I was with child. Xiongzhang... he said... that the child would still... have to be his by blood..." The words were difficult to get out and Lan Wangji couldn't stop the tightening of his throat or the hot sting behind his eyes. He had told himself that he would keep his composure. That he had shed all his tears earlier today and that he wouldn't break down like this again. Now he realizes how foolish he was for thinking himself capable of that.

Wei Wuxian felt his stomach twist. No, he... he must be misunderstanding. Theres no way... He had always thought Lan Xichen was a good older brother to Lan Wangji. He was indulgent and supportive and patient with him. Theres no way he would... that he would...

But if Lan Wangji was telling the truth about him going into seclusion after he left... It had been more then a year since their divorce. Lan Wangji was maybe six months through his pregnancy. You aren't allowed to have guests while in seclusion- only immediate family were permitted to see you. It would be nothing for Lan Xichen to visit him in seclusion as often as he wanted.

Oh gods, please let this be a horrible misunderstanding.

(This is my fourth rewrite of this. Please take it away from me)

#Reply #Gusu Lan Soup Opera #wei wuxian #lan wangji #mpreg #Lan Xichen #jin guangyao #mdzs

[tennessoui]

hi all of your aus are amazing! pls what happens with divorced!obiwan and the twins?

hey!! sorry this took so long i had to think of an appropriate cliffhanger

this is a continuation of this ficlet and this ficlet, where divorced!obi-wan accidentally acquires a partner and a set of twins.

(2k WHOOPS)

The twins are not, and probably have never been described by anyone except their father, angels. They take to Obi-Wan as well as Obi-Wan takes to them, which is to say that all three of them watch each other suspiciously until one day Luke launches himself off the top of the fridge--how the fuck did he manage to get up there--and Obi-Wan drops his morning toast in a frantic bid to catch him.

After that, Leia and Luke apparently decide he is Another Anakin Who Is Just Around A Lot Less But Is Better At Reading Bedtime Stories and deign to treat him as such.

Obi-Wan decides that he’s going to have a heart attack by the age of fifty. Do all children see a childproof house as a challenge?

It somehow takes both a longer and shorter time to win over Anakin’s favor, mostly because Obi-Wan isn’t sure what the man’s thinking at any given moment. He seems to blow hot and cold depending on how he woke up or how the work day goes. Some days, Obi-Wan comes home from campus and Anakin and the twins have waited to eat until he’s there. Sometimes they’ve eaten and there’s a meal under foil on the stove just for Obi-Wan.

(“I don’t know how you do it,” Obi-Wan tells him one night after the children are put to bed. “I mean, work from home with your job, mind the children, and cook?”

“They made me head of the R&D department a few months ago,” Anakin admits, taking a sip of his second glass of wine. “So I’m doing a lot more checking through other people’s work instead of making my own. It just means I can do that and make something edible--no, really, you just can’t cook, Obi-Wan, I’m not the best either.”

“Do you miss getting to make something other than food?” Obi-Wan asks eventually, giving himself enough time to recover from the sound of the other’s giggles.

Anakin shrugs languidly. “It’s better salary, and I’m the youngest ever in the company to have the position. Means I’ll pay off my student loans quicker, same with my mom’s hospital bills. Doesn’t matter what I want.”

Obi-Wan’s chest hurts and he wants to lean across the gap between their chairs and place his hand on Anakin’s arm, but they don’t know each other like that. It’s only been a month and a half since they moved in. Still. “It always matters what you want,” he insists. “And I think you’re amazing.”

Anakin blushes bright scarlet and takes a huge gulp of wine, and Obi-Wan wonders if this is a throwing-yourself-off-the-fridge break through.)

(It’s not because the next day, Anakin doesn’t say a single word to him, which bothers him more than he’d like to admit.)

(“Am I in the wrong for wanting to get along with my housemate?” Obi-Wan asks Quinlan despairingly during their office hours that he should be using to grade papers. Instead all he can think about is Anakin Skywalker and the goddamn cold shoulder he’s been getting from the man for the past three days.

“Yeah,” Quin says absentmindedly, marking something with a red pen before looking up at Obi-Wan’s outraged intake of breath. “I mean, no. I mean, sorry, Obi, what are we even talking about now? Is it still your hot new roommate with the two kids? Because that’s what we were talking about an hour and a half ago.”

Obi-Wan crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. “I’m just not sure I appreciate--”

“And you said he’s not been hanging around in the living room when you get home? But he’s still leaving you meals in the kitchen? And you’re upset about the free food?”

Obi-Wan is upset at the lack of Anakin’s presence, but he thinks that’s probably not the right thing to say here.

“Maybe he’s just tired?” Quinlan puts down his pen and rests his chin on one of his hands as he looks at Obi-Wan. “From the kids and the job and putting up with your moody ass. C’mon, Obi, what’s really getting you worked up?”

Obi-Wan purses his lips and stares at the desk in front of him, but he had come to Quinlan for help. He should at least be honest about what’s eating at him, even though he knows how silly it will sound when given a voice. “...Satine always waited up for me,” he mutters. “Until she didn’t.”

Quinlan’s quiet for a worryingly large amount of seconds, before he reaches out to pat Obi-Wan gently on the arm. “Oh, Obi,” he says pityingly. “Repeat after me. You cannot make your new roommate your rebound from your thirty year marriage.”

Obi-Wan scoffs. That’s not the problem at all. “That’s not the problem at all,” he says, not defensively in the slightest. “I think I’m just worried about the children not having enough structure in their lives.”

“Right,” Quinlan says, not quite managing to hide the skepticism in his voice. “Then you should talk to him. For the sake of the children.”

Obi-Wan will absolutely not be doing that, but it’s a nice thought.)

The real turning point in Anakin and Obi-Wan’s relationship happens five months after the Skywalkers move in.

Anakin and Obi-Wan are in the living room. Anakin is trying to braid Leia’s hair while Obi-Wan tries to pretend he isn’t watching. From the kitchen, there’s a very, very loud crash and the sound of something shattering.

Both adults leap up from their seats immediately and run to the other room.

Luke is standing in the epi-center of disaster, little face scrunched up like he doesn’t know whether or not to cry. At the sight of his dad and Obi-Wan, he starts to wail, moving forward and reaching for Anakin.

Obi-Wan, who is wearing shoes inside the house (a point of contention between himself and Anakin), grabs Luke roughly and picks him up by the armpits before he can cut his feet on the glass. He hands him over to Anakin to soothe, stepping further into the kitchen to find the dustpan he keeps in one of the pantries.

It’s very obvious what broke, though Obi-Wan can’t for the life of him understand how Luke got ahold of Satine’s heavy cake stand. He can definitely understand how Luke dropped it, as the thing was ridiculously heavy.

It had been one of the only things left in the house that had been Satine’s. She’d left it, and Obi-Wan had been too bitter or petty to point it out to her. Yes, it had been her mother’s. No, keeping it had not made him feel any better. But it’s not like Satine ever baked anything anyway.

Good for Luke, actually, for doing what Obi-Wan never could bring himself to do.

He grabs the broom and dustpan and marches back to the pieces of shattered glass. Anakin has placed Luke on the counter, ostensibly to check to make sure his feet are fine if the boy would ever let go of his father’s neck. Leia is peering around at the mess on the floor.

When Obi-Wan comes back and starts sweeping everything away, she darts forward to pick up a rather sizeable chunk.

“Don’t touch that,” Obi-Wan says sharply, much harsher than he intended. Leia drops it instantly and scurries back to her father, eyes wide and sort of watery. Oh, fuck.

“Hey,” Anakin snaps immediately. “She’s just trying to help and Luke didn’t mean to break--whatever that is.”

Obi-Wan holds up his hand to cut Anakin off. “I’m not mad,” he promises all three of the Skywalkers. And he’s not even lying. He’s really not mad, hasn’t even thought to be mad at this last piece of proof of his relationship with Satine shattering on his kitchen floor. “I just don’t want either of you to cut yourself. Glass like this can be very dangerous and none of you are wearing shoes.”

“Promise?” Luke asks, untucking his red face from Anakin’s neck so he can peer up at Obi-Wan.

“I’m sorry I was a bit rough,” Obi-Wan apologizes, coming over and bending down a bit so he’s on the same level as Luke. “I was just worried about you. Promise.”

Luke sniffles but lets go of Anakin to throw himself at Obi-Wan, apologizing all the way.

“Hush,” Obi-Wan says as Leia scrambles up his leg, vying for his attention. With his hands full of children that aren’t his, he raises his head to look at Anakin who’s watching them with a very strange expression on his face. He tilts his head toward the broom and then down to the kids in his arms. “Come along,” he tells them both. “Leia, I’ll finish your braids if you’d like.”

“Braid my hair too!” Luke demands with a pull on Obi-Wan’s shirt.

Luke’s hair is floppy but awfully short. “I’m sure we can figure something out,” Obi-Wan says generously, leaving the kitchen.

“I suppose I’ll just clean this up then?” Anakin calls sarcastically behind them.

“Thank you, darling,” Obi-Wan responds.

There’s the sound of something else breaking, but it’s not Obi-Wan’s problem at the moment.

(A year later, Anakin mentions something over morning coffee about looking for a new apartment, now that he’s got everything straightened out. “We’ll get out of your hair,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’ll look today since it’s my day off.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t want to examine why that idea makes something curl tightly in his stomach, making him feel vaguely nauseous, but it does. On his way out of the house, he unplugs the router, and then after a second of thought, takes it with him just in case.)

(Quinlan laughs his head off when Obi-Wan sheepishly puts the router down on the desk in front of him. “It’s a bad market right now,” Obi-Wan says defensively. “I’m just looking out for him.”

“Obi, I mean this in the best way possible, but there are at least four professors in the psych department that would probably love to do a case study on you.”)

(Two years after the Skywalkers move in, Obi-Wan is running late for a meeting with the head of his department. The man is stepping down, finally retiring, and Obi-Wan thinks that perhaps he’ll be tapped as the new head. It would mean dropping some of his classes, but it would be worth it.

“I made you a breakfast wrap,” Anakin greets him at the door, holding out a paper bag. “It’s got that salsa you like in it.”

The salsa Obi-Wan likes is the mild version of what Anakin and the kids eat, but Anakin treats it as if it’s from another planet entirely.

“Good luck!” he says with a sweet smile, also passing Obi-Wan a travel mug of what’s hopefully fully caffeinated tea. Obviously Obi-Wan needs it. He got perhaps two full hours of sleep last night, tossing and turning and thinking about this meeting and now he’s running late and his tie is crooked and none of his favorite sweater vests were clean.

“Thank you, dear one,” Obi-Wan mumbles, mind somewhere else. If traffic isn’t too bad, he could still be on time.

“Text me how it goes!” Anakin chirps, following Obi-Wan out the door to stand on the front porch with his arms crossed in an attempt to fight off the early winter chill.

“Yes, of course,” Obi-Wan replies, turning around to brush an absent-minded kiss to Anakin’s lips before hurrying to his car. It’s a twenty minute commute. If he gets his preferred parking spot and runs to the department building, he won’t be late at all.

Is that too much to hope for?

He starts the car and pulls out of the driveway, looking back in the rearview mirror to see Anakin standing frozen on the porch. That’s strange, usually the other man can’t stand being out in the cold.

Obi-Wan gets to the first stop-sign out of the neighborhood before he realizes what he’s done. It’s lucky that he’s already slowing down, because he slams on the brakes. Did he--

Did he kiss Anakin? Did he really kiss Anakin as if he does it all the time? As if they were in a relationship?

Oh shit.

Frantically, he pulls out his cellphone from his bag and checks to see if he has any new messages. He doesn’t.

Oh. Shit.

#asks #one more ficlet in this universe and i will have No Choice but to piece them together somehow on ao3 #there was supposed to be a bit where one of his students is like 'oh i didnt know you were a father!' #and obi-wan is like 'im not a father' #and then he plugs in his laptop to pull up the powerpoitn for the day #and his background is a picture of luke and leia #not even doing anything theyre just sleeping peacefully in his favorite armchair hugging the same book #anakin had sent it to him #with the text that they were taking turns playing Obi-Wan and Student #but the game was so boring they fell asleep #KUWSK

[yayeetsonny]

Always Tell The Truth Part 2 ~ USWNT x Reader

Okay so if you haven’t read the first part of this, which I will put here. Always tell the truth part 1 I suggest you do that, otherwise this one will make no sense. Also sorry... again for being gone so long. I hope you guys didn’t miss me too much. :)

-N

Previously...

“Those bruises, Y/N, where’d you get them?” 

“I. Don’t. Know.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Fine then, don’t believe me. First Alex, then Christen and now you. This is just great, my teammates think I’m a liar. Well I’m not and I’m telling you the truth.”

I brushed by her and stormed out of the room, now determined to avoid my teammates so they’d stop asking questions and questioning my honesty.

“I’m not a liar. I don’t know where I got the bruises, I don’t know why they won’t believe me.”

Present

After I stormed out of the room I share with Ali I ran... yes literally ran out of the hotel and out into the street. Well okay it was more like the sidewalk but whatever, I’m going for dramatic story telling here. I was angry, hurt and confused as to why my teammates couldn’t just believe me. I’ve never lied to them before, not ever. If something was going on I would have told them. And I genuinely have no clue where these bruises came from, I don’t remember hurting myself badly in practices or games and I don’t do any other crazy activities that would warrant the sudden appearance of severe looking injuries. I knew I just needed to clear my head so I started walking in a random direction hoping to get my thoughts together.

After a while I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and knew it was probably one of my teammates looking for me so I ignored it. My phone stopped ringing only for a short time before it stared up again. This went on for several long minutes before it finally stopped. After each attempt from whoever was trying reach me there was a separate single vibrate indicating they left a message. I felt a little guilty for disappearing and probably worrying everyone but they shouldn’t have assumed or accused me of lying. Thinking they finally got the message that I didn’t want to speak to them I continued walking god knows where trying to think of what to say when I finally decided to go back. I was really deep in thought, trying to remember if and when I got the bruises. Obviously they don’t just appear like magic. They have to be caused by something, but... what? All the sudden I was hit with a vague memory

“Huh?... Wha- where am I?”

“You fell asleep on the couch dear. Don’t you remember? It was really adorable actually. My mom said super sweetly.

That’s weird, she’s never overly sweet with me, like ever.

“No, I don’t remember doing that.”

I looked around and the tv was on, which is also rare. It was playing a random comedy movie. Comedy? My parents don’t even like comedy movies.

“Oh well you did. Right after dinner, you dragged your feet over to the couch and was out like a light before we knew it.” She said casually.

My dad waltzed in like everything was totally normal. What the fuck is going on. Why don’t I even remember eating dinner? How long have I been here? Why does my body hurt so much?

I came back to the present feeling slightly uneasy. I remembered now a little bit of what happened when I got to my parents house and a little bit of what happened after I woke up from my nap. They managed to convince me everything was fine after that and I left assuming they were telling me the truth because I was too tired and too annoyed to argue. But the more I thought about it the more I wondered just how much of what they said is true. Why were there huge gaps in my time with them? And why do I get the feeling that the weird gut feeling I have isn’t a coincidence? I got lost in thought again but it was peaceful this time and quiet which I was relishing in.

Unfortunately the peace and quiet only lasted for a few minutes when I started to get what I assumed were dozens of texts. I finally got fed up and decided to silence my phone completely. When I unlocked it I saw a glimpse of some of the worried texts from the team. They all pretty much said the same thing;

“Y/N please come back. I’m sorry for saying I didn’t believe you. I’m just concerned about you. I want to talk and I’ll listen to whatever you have to say. Just please come back.”- Ali

“Hey kid, heard what happened. Wanna talk?”- T

“Y/n where are you? I heard what happened and that you left?? please come back, we’re worried.”- Christen

“Bruh what the hell? let’s talk?”- Ash

“where r u?”- Mal

“It’s not safe for you to be out by yourself. Ali told us about the other bruises. Whatever this is we’ll help you. We’re gonna start searching for you if you don’t get your ass back here soon. We love you.”- Alex

And it went on like that as every single member of the team texted me some variation of that and the voicemails they all left were much the same. I started to feel more guilty but let my anger keep me from replying to them. They can stew a little longer.

Meanwhile back at the Hotel...

CHRISTEN PRO//

“Okay, so tell us exactly what happened.”

“I saw the bruises when she was changing, which I happened to walk in on. I don’t think she was expecting me. I asked her what happened and she said that nothing had happened and I asked her about the bruises I saw on her arm, shoulder and spine and she continued to tell me she has no idea where they came from. I told her I didn’t believe her and then she got upset and she just... left.”

“Just like that? She didn’t say where she was going?”

“No, she was so angry she just stormed out and when I tried to follow after her she was already gone.”

“And she’s still not answering her phone. Damnit kid come on, where are you?”

“She’s not safe out there on her own, we have to go look for her.”

“And how are we supposed to find her when she doesn’t have her location on and is doing everything she can’t to ignore us?”

“I have no idea but we have to try.”

“We will, but we should give her a little more time. It’s possible she’s just around the corner cooling off. She’ll come back when she’s ready.”

“You’re right.”

“Guys I hate to steer us back into more serious topics but shouldn’t we be talking about the bruises she has that started all of this?”

“What do you guys think they’re from?” Megan asked.

“I want to believe her when she says she doesn’t know but I mean how can you just not know about bruises as severe as those?” Ash said.

“I mean... I’ve had some pretty bad ones I don’t remember getting from anywhere.” Mal said off-handily.

I saw some of the rest of the team nod silently, indicating that they too had, had the same thing happen to them. And I had to admit that I had my fair share of bumps and bruises that I couldn’t explain because they just seemed to appear but I was still concerned for our youngest teammate as it was getting pretty late and it was already dark outside.

“Oh god, you don’t think it’s her parents do you?” Tobin asked no one in particular.

We all paused for a moment to process what she was implying and I know we were silently hoping, praying that they wouldn’t do that to her. That they wouldn’t beat their own child.

“No, there’s no way. She’s told us that they love and support her and that even though they aren’t around much they still care about her.”

“Right, you’re right.”

“It has to be them though, I mean there’s no other explanation. She didn’t have them before or after practice right?” Alex asked.

“No, she didn’t.” Lindsey said solemnly.

“Do you really think parents can just flip a switch? Just like that? Be caring and supportive one minute and violent then next?”

“It’s possible.”

“No, just don’t even go there. I refuse to believe they would do that.”

“We would have seen the bruises if she had them before, since we all change in the same locker room together for practices and games remember?” I said

“Fuck. When I get my hands on them I swear to god...”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence because Y/n walked into the dining hall where we were all gathered.

“Get your hands on who?” She asked quietly

“Kid...”

“Y/n holy shit, thank god.”

“And she lives!... not the time? Got it.”

“Y/N... we need to talk.”

“Why? There’s nothing to talk about. I don’t know what Ali told you, but I don’t know where these fucking bruises came from okay? I don’t know. I’m sorry, I know that probably isn’t what you wanted to hear but it’s the truth. If you don’t believe me that’s fine but i’m not talking about it anymore.”

“Sweetie please just hear us out okay? We’re worried about you and getting defensive about them isn’t helping your case.” I said, trying to reach out for her but she backed away from me.

“Defensive? I’m just upset because you all still don’t seem to get it.”

“We want to get it, please just talk to us.”

“No.”

“Y/N, please just...”

“No! Okay, just no. I said we weren’t talking about it again and that’s final. What happened to “I’ll listen to whatever you have to say.” Huh, Ali? Good to know that was complete bullshit.”

“I’m sorry baby, please believe me, we just...”

“Oh believe you? For what? You clearly still don’t believe me so why should I give you that courtesy? You know what, this is all just fucking stupid anyways. I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

And with that she disappeared up to the room she’s sharing with Ali. Leaving us all more confused and concerned than ever.

“Well... that went well.”

“Shut up Emily, so not the time.”

//End

Okay so yes that is yet another cliffhanger of sorts, I’m sorry but I thought that was a good place to end it. Just know that Y/N genuinely doesn’t remember a lot of what’s going on, just like she says. Her parents are definitely sus asf.

I’m actually writing part 3 rn so that should be up within the next day or so. I know I keep disappearing but my life is totally a mess rn lol. I’m back now tho and am excited to finally get to all the requests I have. Im so sorry for those waiting I haven’t forgotten. Promise.

-N

//

Not edited.

#uswnt imagines #uswnt #christen press #alex morgan #imagines #uswnt x reader #megan rapinoe #ashlyn harris #ali krieger #tobin heath #lindsey horan #emily sonnett #mal pugh #The rest of the team will appear #baby reader #USWNT

[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

an icarus and his sun: chapter 4

A/N: what's this? jimmy may be finally leaving denial station? and gray-aroace jimmy because i said so? hell yeah. also more seablings pog!! i do also have the next chapter written already bc it has one of the scenes that was basically the whole reason i wrote this fic, but i'm gonna wait until tomorrow to post it (mostly bc i wanna make sure i have the chapter after that one written bc of... reasons >:) the next chapter is a tad cliffhanger-y and i just don't want y'all to have to wait too long)

Warnings: teasing/banter, flirting, realization of feelings

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

-

The invitation for the House Blossom Ball arrived, with a separate handwritten note along with it from Katherine that very pointedly reminded Jimmy to dress up and maybe lose the cod head. Something about how it wasn’t “fancy enough” or whatever. Jimmy felt the cod head was acceptable for any occasion, not to mention he felt weird with his whole head being in view- but maybe he could compromise for Katherine. He’d have to figure out some sort of other headpiece… but the ball wasn’t for a few days anyway. Jimmy had plenty of time to figure out an outfit. In the meantime, he had some work to do on his slime farm. And of course, who else should be there but Scott when Jimmy came up from his farm. He was sitting on the roof of the slime farm entrance, legs swinging idly.

“What are you doing here,” Jimmy asked with a tired sigh, really hoping that he wouldn’t have to deal with another fight with Scott. Scott hopped down from the roof, gliding a bit before landing in front of Jimmy.

“Oh same as always, I was bored and you’re fun to bother,” Scott said with a shrug and a playful grin. Jimmy glowered at him, putting his hands on his hips.

“Oh no, not today! I’m not letting you get under my skin anymore!” Jimmy said, determination in his tone. Scott raised an eyebrow as his grin morphed into a smirk, and there was that squirming, fluttery feeling from their fight again.

“Are you sure about that?” Scott crooned, a clear challenge in his voice. Jimmy shut his eyes, taking a deep breath before shifting his expression into something more neutral.

“Absolutely,” he said firmly, walking past Scott towards his base. Scott seemed surprised for a moment, before getting his bearings and following after Jimmy.

"Not even over this?" Scott asked, walking beside Jimmy and tossing something green up in the air before catching it again. Jimmy stopped walking, brows furrowed in confusion. Scott stopped too, looking him in the eyes as he tossed the object again- a slimeball.

"How- where- when did you- where did you get that from?!" Jimmy demanded. The only way people got slime was from his empire.

“Got it from one of your chests- thought you wouldn’t mind,” Scott replied with a shrug, that smirk still irritatingly present on his face.

“I very much do mind! Give that back!” Jimmy demanded, lunging forward to try and grab the slimeball from his hand. Scott darted back, flapping his wings and sending a gush of wind to push Jimmy back.

“You’re gonna have to catch me, fish boy,” Scott teased, before taking off into the sky. Jimmy grit his teeth in frustration.

“I’m the Codfather!” he protested, equipping his elytra and taking off after Scott. Scott laughed, dipping and twirling in the sky while Jimmy struggled to keep up. Going after someone who had actual wings while Jimmy only had an elytra was a definite disadvantage, but Jimmy was a little too stubborn to care. Scott climbed higher into the sky with ease, Jimmy following close after- and then the sun hit Scott’s wings and Jimmy just about fell out of the sky. The sun’s rays caught the gold tips of his wings, making them shimmer. But it wasn’t just the sunshine reflecting off his wings- it was the way Scott’s whole face seemed to shine like the sun with his smile and how the wind ruffled his usually neat hair. It was how his laugh sounded as if the shimmering of gold made a sound. It was how those icy blue eyes sparkled with mirth as he held the slimeball victoriously above his head. It was how Scott’s expression suddenly melted from that of a mischievous trickster to something almost fond. All of those things caused that pleasant flip-flopping feeling in his stomach to return, and Jimmy suddenly pitched down because of it. He quickly righted himself, flushing in embarrassment and glaring at Scott’s resulting smirk.

“Guess you aren’t one of those flying fish, huh,” he teased.

“Just give me the slimeball back!” Jimmy demanded. Scott laughed, and it felt like flowers blooming in Jimmy’s chest.

“You get so fussed over the littlest of things,” he said, still laughing. Jimmy got the feeling that he should have been angry at Scott’s teasing, he was making fun of him, after all! But instead, Jimmy couldn’t help but smile back. To Jimmy’s surprise, Scott seemed startled by that, eyes going wide and a half gasp, half laugh escaping his lips.

“Sometimes you gotta appreciate the little things in life! You miss those things when you fly above everything and live up and away from the world in the mountains,” Jimmy pointed out with a laugh. Scott pondered this, slowly floating back to the ground as he did so. Jimmy tilted his head to the side in confusion, coming to a landing beside him. Scott was staring at the slimeball in his hands with a mix of wonder and bafflement. Shaking his head, Scott reached out for Jimmy’s hand and pressed the slimeball into it, both hands clasping over Jimmy’s hand for a moment. Jimmy’s hand felt fever-warm at Scott’s touch, and his heart hammered in his chest.

“You can have this back. Sorry,” Scott said, quickly withdrawing his hands. Jimmy felt horrible instantly, he clearly struck a nerve with what he said. Before Scott got a chance to leave, Jimmy quickly grabbed his hands, giving the slimeball back.

“Keep it, I’ve got plenty. You- you should enjoy the little things in life too,” Jimmy said softly. Scott’s face tinged pink, all the way up to the tips of his ears.

“I- whatever,” Scott scoffed, trying to bring it back to their teasing back and forth from before, but failing miserably. Before Jimmy had a chance to reply, Scott drew his hands back, holding the slimeball close to his chest and taking off into the sky. This time around, Jimmy didn’t bother chasing after him. He was a little too busy wondering what on earth had just happened. One moment Jimmy was irritated by Scott’s presence, and the next his heart felt all fluttery and he willingly gave him a commodity from his empire. What was happening to him?! Jimmy had a sneaking suspicion… but he had to talk to Lizzie or Joel first. He just had to be sure.

-

Jimmy flew to Lizzie’s empire, spotting her and Joel sitting together on one of her giant lilypads. They both looked at him with concern when he landed in front of them, out of breath. Lizzie was the first to jump to her feet, hands reaching out towards him and searching for any injuries. Joel followed after her and hovered at her side, looking unsure of what to do.

“What happened?! Are you hurt, were you attacked?!” Lizzie demanded, and Joel’s eyes shot to the skies as he put a hand on the hilt of his sword. Jimmy laughed, shaking his head.

“Guys, I’m fine! See, look! I’m all good. Just had to see you,” Jimmy said, holding his arms out to show that he was, in fact, uninjured. Lizzie and Joel breathed out a simultaneous sigh of relief.

“Oh thank goodness. Usually when you fly to one of us in a panic, you’re hurt or being chased, or something’s seriously wrong,” Joel said, the tension draining from his shoulders and hand dropping from the hilt of his sword. Jimmy’s smile turned sheepish.

“Well… something… might be wrong. But there’s something I’ve gotta ask you guys first,” Jimmy replied nervously. Lizzie and Joel exchanged confused glances. Lizzie stepped closer, putting a comforting hand on Jimmy’s shoulder.

“Of course, you can ask us anything,” she said softly. Jimmy took a deep breath, working up the nerve to say it.

“How did you know you were in love?” he asked timidly. Lizzie blinked in surprise, and Joel raised an eyebrow.

“Is this about Scott?” Joel asked. Jimmy’s face flushed in embarrassment.

“Please just answer the question,” he muttered. Thankfully, Joel didn’t seem to be in a teasing mood, and neither did Lizzie.

“For me it was her smile. Gave me butterflies the first time I saw it,” Joel said, unabashedly gazing at Lizzie. She giggled, and Joel’s fond expression increased tenfold.

“Butterflies?” Jimmy asked, a bit confused by the turn of phrase.

“You know, when your stomach gets all squirmy, but not in a bad way? Like a bunch of butterfly wings flapping inside you,” Joel explained, and Jimmy was hit with a sudden burst of clarity. Something in his expression must have shown it, because Lizzie gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze.

“You’re telling me that’s what love feels like? It’s that just… all the time?” Jimmy asked, his voice a little hollow with disbelief. At himself mostly, for not realizing it sooner. To be fair, he didn’t feel those sorts of feelings often. In fact, he felt it almost exclusively with Scott. So to realize this whole time what he had really been feeling wasn’t just hatred or irritation… he felt a little silly.

“Well, it’s not always like that, sometimes being around someone you love just makes you feel warm and cozy,” Lizzie added.

“Well… but I feel warm and cozy all the time with you guys!” Jimmy protested, still trying to deny that feeling just a little bit longer. Lizzie smiled, patient and understanding.

“Yes, but with this… hypothetical someone, it’s different, isn’t it,” she gently prodded. Jimmy finally gave in. It was different with Scott, and that honestly terrified him. He’d never felt this way about anyone, ever.

“Oh my god, I like him,” Jimmy breathed.

“About time you figured it out,” Joel muttered. Lizzie moved her hand from Jimmy’s shoulder to swat Joel’s arm. Jimmy was too busy having a bit of an existential crisis to really care.

“Oh my god I really like him. This whole time- but Scott hates me, what on earth am I supposed to- but he seemed kind of nice today…” Jimmy trailed off, beginning to pace back and forth. Lizzie gasped in excitement, rushing over to stand in front of Jimmy and grabbing his shoulders.

“You saw him today?! Tell. Me. Everything!” she demanded. Jimmy let out a sheepish laugh.

“Nothing really happened! He stole a slimeball from me, I chased him a bit in the sky- and oh god he was gorgeous in the sunlight- and then I said something to make him sad and let him keep the slimeball anyway. I- wow I really didn’t like seeing him sad,” Jimmy rambled, a disbelieving smile growing across his face. Joel made a mock-disgusted face.

“I think I liked it better when Jimmy was in denial, he’s getting all mushy now,” he teased. Lizzie rolled her eyes.

“Don’t listen to him, being mushy is a good look on you,” she insisted, getting a laugh out of Jimmy.

“I’m glad you think so, but maybe Joel is right. Cause now all I can think about is how Scott definitely doesn’t feel the same way,” Jimmy said with a sigh. A determined look came across Lizzie’s face, and distantly Jimmy was a little terrified.

“Oh no, you’ve activated her plotting look,” Joel said with the same distant terror that Jimmy was feeling.

“The ball is the perfect time to change Scott’s mind and show him that you are a catch, you’ve said so yourself,” Lizzie explained with a grin.

“Oh no, that is not happening, I just want the ball to be something fun, I don’t wanna make a scene,” Jimmy protested, but it came out a little weak.

“Us? Make a scene? Never. I was just thinking that we make sure to get you a snazzy outfit!” Lizzie said, and while Jimmy didn’t trust her for a second, he could concede that Lizzie had a better sense of style than he did.

“Oh, alright. As long as it’s just that,” Jimmy said firmly.

“Of course!” Lizzie said, far too innocently. Jimmy just chuckled and shook his head.

“And we should probably do something fancier than the cod head,” Joel added. Jimmy sighed, putting a hand over the cod head.

“Yeah, yeah, Katherine mentioned that too,” Jimmy said with a pout.

“Don’t worry, you’re in good hands!” Lizzie chirped, releasing Jimmy’s shoulders to instead grab his arm and pull him to where she and Joel had been sitting, rambling about outfit ideas all the while. Jimmy couldn’t help but smile and be a tiny bit hopeful. Maybe wearing something nice would catch Scott’s eye… but then what? Happily ever after? Was that how love even worked? Whatever the case, he was sure Lizzie would have a plan for that too. And maybe the ball could be the start of something beautiful.

-

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#empires smp #jimmy solidarity #scott smajor #ldshadowlady #smallishbeans #flower husbands #seablings #empires smp fic #mcyt #aiahs #sage writes

[doodlebloo]

📓 please u are my favorite dsmp writer every single daydream u have will be amazing

Augushd this is so sweet. Ok this is the outline I HAD for my "cTubbo rescues Michael_B and revives cRanboo" fic. I don't feel like I will ever write it BUT just in case pls no one steal this lol. Essentially this is how I would write the current plotline :)

I actually already have the first chapter written LOL but I doub I will ever finish it. This is the outline I had tho. ALSO this was written before the Saving Michael lore so the reason cEret doesn't save Michael w them is bc I had no idea that would be canon. Also this is messy so sorry abt that

It's been a week and a half since Ranboo died and Tubbo is sick of waiting around. He runs off to find Jack Manifold. They have a long talk where Tubbo tries to convince him to give up his keycard, but Jack doesn't want to, ESPECIALLY when Tubbo starts alluding to possibly taking himself out with the nukes. Eventually Tubbo trades him Manifork for it and then heads off to his shift at Tubburger. It's mind numbing and tedious and he hates it and he gets a lot of thinking done. He and Quackity have a chat, and when he shift ends Tubbo says a very vague and worrying goodbye to Q insinuating that he may not be coming back, Q seems as worried as Q could be while still being in character, and gives Tubbo possibly misguided but well meaning advice before he heads out.

Tubbo expects it to be a lot harder to get Techno to come w him to get Michael, but Techno's pretty much immediately ready to go. He admits that he has a pearl stasis chamber ready to go just in case, but he DOES offer to let Tubbo make one, too. Tubbo declines but Techno reassures him that he wouldn't just leave for no reason even if there's danger. Tubbo asks if Techno would teleport back even if he were holding Michael and he says yeah probably which is good enough for Tubbo. Along the journey it's good old fashioned Bonding-Ish (as in Holding Techno Accountable type bonding) till they get to Sam's island.

Tubbo is short with Sam, angry, ready to threaten, but Sam is just sad. He gives Michael back without much resistance, and he tries repeatedly to tell them what Ranboo has done. It definitely gets under Tubbo's skin, but he ignores it bc of course he does, excusing Ranboo's actions away like he always does. He and Techno get back to Snowchester and have an Awkward but sort of sweet goodbye where Techno offers future protection if Tubbo ever needs it, and Tubbo just... Revels in Michael being back for a bit.

He knocks on the door of his old house a day or two later, because if PHIL is the only one who knows where Tommy is, then things MUST be bad. Tommy invites him in, and then cClingyduo cClingyduo cClingyduo. Barest hints of healing, hushed conversations about why Tommy finds Tubbo's house safe, Tommy doesn't like Michael at first but we already see him start to grow on him by the end of the convo. Cliffhanger ending where Tubbo offhandedly mentions "finding where Ranboo respawned" bc he can't be dead and Tommy's like "I'm... Pretty sure he's dead" and Tubbo's like "Well I don't believe that. I got no proof, no body, and there's not even a ghost" and Tommy's face falls and he's like "Oh Jesus" and Tubbo's like What and Tommy's like "Tubbo... Have you not met Ranboo's ghost?"

And then hard cut to next chapter he meets the ghost of all places in the fucking Crater. And he's short with him, reminisces about the bee dome, he's polite but he pretty quickly realizes that this just Isn't Ranboo. The ghost taunts him a bit without even really meaning to and Tubbo stops being able to handle it so he just heads into his shift. He practically begs Tommy to watch his kid, and Tommy is SO reluctant at first but Tubbo needs him so he caves. Tubbo goes to work and it's raining in LN (snowing really, more like sleet) so Quackity chills inside and Tubbo chats idly with him and casually brings up necromancy and they have a tense but seemingly nonchalant convo about revival and suddenly Quackity gets serious and he's like "Tubbo you don't want to mess with this stuff" and Tubbo's like "You know about this stuff, then" and Quackitys like "No, I know how hard it is to figure it out. If I knew it I'd have at least offered you a trade offer to help revive your husband. Damn, I'm not a monster." And Tubbo is stricken by how sweet that is but anyway they keep talking and they're both really vague but eventually they trail off and Tubbo's like "Hey big Q. Where's that slime fellow." And so Quackity is still vague but he reveals Some stuff and Tubbo only half manipulating him convinced Quackity to reveal any hints he has from cDream and Quackity doesn't like doing it but he realizes that Tubbo NEEDS this. And Tubbo thanks him sincerely and Q tells him to keep in touch and that he'll murder cDream for coming near him or Tommy and that he's sure Sapnap would help him but his voice catches on the name and Q follows it up with "And I won't say I told you so if it turns out your partner is someone you don't want back." And Tubbo isn't even mad over that, he just feels SEEN, so he thanks Q for the books and disappears into the sleet of night.

Tommy and Michael are beginning to grow close, because Tubbo will only come out of his lab to feed Michael and tuck him in at night and Michael gets bored with his same old toys and coloring books sometimes and Tommy doesn't like being completely by himself, so he comes over to sit in the lab sometimes and feels safe with the extra security layers Tubbo has put up (and as Tommy tells him one night over potions, it's quite nice to hang out with Tubbo again.) Tubbo works and works and works until he finds an old sticky note from his dead husband reminding him to take a break and after that blow he couldn't keep working even if he wanted to, so he takes a walk outside as a breather and just sits and reminisces and thinks. The ghost finds him. And it sits and reminisces with him and then it asks him to STOP, tells him it doesn't want to not exist and asks Tubbo not to kill it. The ghost tells him exactly what he doesn't want to hear: that Ranboo hid things from him, that he'd hurt Tubbo before and had plans to do it again, that his skewed worldview was worse than Tubbo thought, that he'd known he was bad and asked to be locked up. And Tubbo lets that sink in... And then he's like "You say he wanted to be locked up to protect me. That sounds like something my Ranboo would do. And maybe I don't know everything about him, but I know he'd never hurt me." And the ghost tells him some of the things Ranboo has done, finishing with "And the rest I shouldn't say", and when Tubbo denies it, the spirit slips him a memory book and floats off, seemingly happier than before (likely proud of himself for preventing Ranboo's revival and his subsequent "death"). Tubbo cracks open the book and begins to read.

Tubbo hasn't seen Tommy or Michael in days. He's just been processing. He's made a little grave for Ranboo, then torn it down to make a better one, then torn the better one apart in a hurt rage, and now he sits at the quaint memorial he's made in he woods behind the mansion. He talks to the grave, as if Ranboo an actually hear him, and he talks about how maybe His Ranboo isn't even the Real Ranboo, and maybe everyone has been right about Ranboo being terrible, and that maybe Tubbo will revive him and Ranboo will stab him through the heart. But, Tubbo finishes, even if it ends up being the death of him, he cares too much for Ranboo to leave him to rot in limbo, and he's had enough of leaving his friends to die. Tubbo sends a VERY worrying comm message to Tommy, looks up at the forming clouds, and heads off to get the body. Sam grimaces when he sees how terrible Tubbo looks. He offers help, Tubbo refuses. Tubbo asks for the body. Same leads him to Ranboo's makeshift grave. He tells Tubbo about why he'd killed Ranboo, how it had gone wrong. He tries to tell him what Ranboo has done, Tubbo just responds "I Know." He hauls the coffin into his boat and doesn't respond when Sam tells him to be safe.

In his necromancy tower, Tubbo cranks the lever to raise the open coffin up to his lightning rod, reading out spells and channeling magic and tryin mg everything he can at once. He prays aloud to Channel Membership, to lady Prime, to the Goddess of Death and the Goddess of Life, and a crack of lightning strikes the coffin. It's raining hard through the open tower and the coffin is smoking and Tubbo worries his husband will get wet in the rain and he rolls down the coffin only to find a charred mark on Ranboo's chest and a lifeless corpse. Which... Doesn't make sense, because this ritual SHOULD revive someone, and... How had Wilbur been revived? And then it hits him. He has to kill the ghost.

Tubbo finds the ghost in the stupid Outpost. He's been looking for hours, and when he finally stumbles across the thing, it's singing and placing grass blocks and it's so Ranboo and so Not Ranboo that Tubbo almost keels over. They sit, and they have a long talk about the past and the present and the future, the cookie outpost and how Ranboo felt about things and how Tubbo felt about things, and it's basically every bit of cBeeduo catharsis that cTubbo needs to hear. And then the ghost sighs and it says "You're here to kill me, aren't you?" And Tubbo is like "Yeah. Yeah, I'm afraid I am." And the ghost half-heartedly tries to convince him not to, warning him about who Ranboo really is in a VERY self deprecating way, but Tubbo needs his husband back. And the ghost is like "Well, this was fun while it lasted, right? I had fun, at least, and I'm sure you had at least a little bit of fun without him." and Tubbo's like "Y'know? I actually really really didn't." And Tubbo's like "You wanna go say your goodbyes to people?* And The ghost is like "No, that's okay." And then a pause, and then "I'm sorry I wasn't him, and I'm sorry I couldn't give you whatever he gave you" Tubbo at the last second is like "I'm not sure I should do this." and the ghost smiles and is like "Then I'll do it for you. He's been itching to come home anyway." and the ghost walks right out into the rain and melts in front of him. And Tubbo is baffled for a bit, crying in an emotionless sort of way, before his brain goes FUCK FUCK FUCK RANBOO RANBOO RANBOO, and he takes his trident (Ranboo's Trident that he stole because Ranboo always let him do that fuck he misses Ranboo) and makes a mad dash for where he knows Ranboo will respawn - the prison. And when he gets there Ranboo is under a tree, confused and disoriented and gasping for air and Tubbo crouches down to look at him and Ranboo flinches away from his eyes before he meets them, "Tubbo?" and Tubbo goes blank. He picks Ranboo up and offers him his own armor, it's not waterproof but anything helps, and as Ranboo puts it on he whimpers and whines about How is he back, did Dream revive him, is Michael okay, and instead of speaking Tubbo grabs his hand and tugs gently, and he and Ranboo emerge from the tree they'd used for cover and start sprinting down the path towards Tubbo's old house, and Tubbo can't help but smile despite everything because RANBOO RANBOO RANBOO and Ranboo starts LAUGHING and it's all just perfect enough for Tubbo to ever so slightly cry. And they get to Tubbo's house and Tubbo gives him some of Tommy's clothes, Ranboo dries himself off and they sit in front of the fire. And it's deathly quiet for a good bit as they sit shoulder to shoulder until Tubbo opens his mouth to say something terrible and ends up just going "I Missed You." And Ranboo's like "Yeah God I missed you too, more than anything, actually. I still don't understand how I'm back." and Tubbo's like "I brought you back." And there's a bit of Ranboo being in awe and Tubbo acting like it's NBD, and then it gets quiet and Tubbo's like "I thought about not bringing you back." Barely above a whisper. And Ranboo's like "...What?" And Tubbo's like, "Ranboo, I know what you did to be put in the prison. I know everything you've done." And Ranboo blinks once, twice, before his eyes roll back and go purple. And Tubbo frowns, "Ranboo?" But before he can do much of anything, Ranboo is standing up and leaving, saying something in a language Tubbo doesn't understand. And Tubbo tries to stop him, to the point that they lightly tussle and fight, but Ranboo rips himself away and speaks in perfect English, "You need to let me go. I dont want to hurt you any more than I have. This is for your own good." And he walks out of house, leaving Tubbo alone in the pouring rain calling out after him.

Tubbo informs everyone that Ranboo is alive. He then informs them all that he's missing. Tubbo can tell that Techno is a bit angry with him for losing Ranboo, but they both agree to keep each other updated and look everywhere they can think of. Tubbo messages Sam, something to the effect of He knows that Ranboo has to be locked up if Sam finds him, but Tubbo would still like to know that he's been found at all. Sam agrees.

Tubbo and Tommy and Michael sit holed up in the house again, because Tommy has been getting letters sent to his dirt hut, with nothing but a smiley face printed on them, and his paranoia is so bad that he'll barely go outside.  It's just Tubbo thinking and lamenting and when Michael talks about how he's convinced that a dream he had about seeing Ranboo was real, Tubbo leaves him with Tommy and decides he HAS to take a walk, has to get away from his darling boy who he's failed. Tubbo wanders out as far as his feet will take him, paying barely any attention to where he's headed, travelling in and out of the nether and tridentine whenever he gets the chance and eventually he's walking through the woods and he hears something crunch and turns around and there's fucking RANBOO. And despite everything, he somehow looks awkward. And he vwoops out a hi, then coughs and says it in English. Tubbo is shell shocked. Ranboo starts backing away, and Tubbo rushes him, using his sword to pin Ranboo's tie to a tree. And he's like "You are not going fucking anywhere," and they fight because Tubbo knows what he's done and knows he's working with Dream, and Ranboo INSISTS that he wouldn't have used the TNT on the prison if he knew it'd kill Tommy, insists that he knows what he's doing and that it's actually DREAM that's helping HIM and that if Dream actually tried to hurt anyone he'd stop him, and Tubbo fucking explodes. He starts screaming and crying, telling Ranboo that he's an idiot if he thinks he can stop Dream on his own, that nobody can stop him, that Tubbo had worked so hard to bring him back and missed him so much just to bring back someone who doesn't care about him at all, tells Ranboo that if he's ever cared about him he'll turn around and come back home and see their son right now. And Ranboo wipes his tears away, not even flinching at the burn, and "Oh Tubbo. If you think I haven't seen Michael yet, you overestimate how easy the castle is to break into. And if you think I'm gonna hurt you, why did you marry me?" And Tubbo pulls himself back and he's like "I guess I didn't know." And Ranboo's like "I guess you didn't. You will, though. You'll see what I have planned. And it'll be good for us, and no one will ever fight again, and we'll get to be happy." And Tubbo's like "Ranboo, I don't know that you've ever known what would actually make me happy." And he takes his sword and sheathes it and walks away.

He doesn't tell Tommy what happened. They stay in the house, and Tubbo keeps Michael with him all the time instead of letting Eret babysit, literally not letting the kid out of his sight. Tubbo has been throwing himself into making traps, as many and as brutal as he can craft them, all to ignore how SELFISH he'd been to keep Ranboo to himself, how Michael hadn't even gotten to see his father for what may have been the last time ever because Tubbo wanted his husband all to himself that night, selfish and stupid and idiot. And it's a Misery chapter, Phil coming by to check in quickly and Quackity calling them both to make sure they're okay (maybe Sapnap is on the line with them), Eret stops by with food and an apology for the castle being broken into, and then eventually Eryn convinces Tommy to go on a walk, to get out and see the sun and shit, and Tommy agrees. Tubbo stays home and talks with Michael and apologizing for not believing him. And then Tommy messages Tubbo frantically, GET HERE NOW NOW NOW NOW (spam), Tubbo comes RUNNING with Michael tucked close to his chest, he bumps into Eret on the path on the way and just shoves the kid into his arms and takes off running, he skids to a stop and Tommys house is burning and ruined with a chest and a compass just like it was for the disc finale again and Tommy's on his knees and Eryn is grinning, saying something about how Tommy will have purpose again, and Tubbo trips over his own feet and vomits right into a flower bed and the world tilts on it's axis, and he and Tubbo curl up in the grass. They stay there for far too long until Tommy eventually forces himself up and offers Tubbo a shakey hand, and Tommy reads the note informing them that they have one week to head to a set of coords, and when Tommy turns the letter around it's in Ranboo's fucking handwriting.

They go to Philza and Technoblade. Tubbo doesn't want to, he begs not to, pleading with Tommy to leave it be, but Tommy insists. Tubbo pays Eret handsomely for babysitting (after all, he won't be needing money where he's going,) and heavily insinuates that Eret may be raising his kid after he dies, and Eret's insinuation in return is that he'll tell Michael stories about his parents and their adventures and make sure that he grows up knowing who they are. Eret ventures as far as a hug, and Tubbo allows himself the briefest moment to lean into it before becoming a Soldier again. Tommy and Tubbo hold hands on their way through the nether, Tommy hates the whole journey and Tubbo has to help him breathe once they get through the portal, Tubbo cracks a joke and Tommy tells him how much better he makes things and then they both get sick from deja vu. Phil is there when they arrive, they ask for Techno and Phil says he'll message and tell him to head back to the base, but he's been out looking for Ranboo so he's fairly far away. They sit with Phil and explain everything they know, and Tommy says they want help, and Phil... Basically just says it's up to Techno. Techno comes in, Tommy gives the same spiel, and when Techno starts with like "Look, I-" Tubbo interrupts, and gives the most genuine bit of emotion he's shown to Technoblade so far, and Technoblade is like "Well... I owe Dream a favor. And I can't go back on that favor. But! If you guys think Ranboo is there, I'm coming with, because I want my friend back. And if I have to fight Dream to get him back, I will fight Dream to get him back." And then he breaks and says some shit about maybe Dream and Ranboo are just hanging out and they're all gonna be interrupting, but he makes it clear that he at least wants to TALK to Ranboo. And Phil is like ah, are we gearing up then? And so Technoblade offers Tommy and Tubbo a gapple each and instructs them to be ready to go early.

Tubbo says Goodbye to his things. He says goodbye to Snowchester, to several graves, to the crater. He says goodbye to Michael, writes a note for Eret that Michael is supposed to read when he's older, texts Quackity and JM goodbye, all of which while still maintaining the false positivity that they'll make it out alive. Tubbo has no intentions of making it out alive. He thinks if he has to die to bring Michael's dad home, he will, and he thinks it's about time anyway, because his friends seem to die all the time and Tubbo never does. So they head off, and the coords lead to a weird portal that looks like Technoblade and Phil's table. And during the fight Ranboo will be purposefully not hurting them but not letting them hurt Dream either, and then Tubbo will get hurt and he'll flip like a switch and help them kill cDream. And after that there's obviously peace, because cDream is finally gone, and because cTubbo apparently knows how to revive people now (although I'd like to say that once cDream dies, the server starts running on an infinite lives system where the only death that could count is old age or something like that.)

What were Ranboo's motivations? I have literally no idea. Thats honestly probably why I didn't write it <3

and this time it isn't a mountain, but a cave. And so they travel down the darkness into this cave, and Tommy hugs Tubbo quickly and wordlessly before they go in and they hold hands all the way down, and Tubbo hopes that  Tommy looks away when he dies. And eventually they get to a strange set of corridors, stone brick hallways that sometimes lead to dead ends, sometimes empty jail cells, a maze of different passageways before they eventually find a table. In the center of the table

#asks #this is sosososo long! #also if you see any of these concepts recycled in future fics NO YOU DONT look away !!!!!!! (/lh)