#// ugh why do you need to tell me my room stink every fucking week like i clean it as much as my depression will allow

[saintvampy]

> feel depressed in room

> leave room

> negative parent interaction

> go back in room

[johaerys-writes]

Where Blood Roses Bloom

Fandom: Castlevania

Pairing: Alucard/Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades

Summary:

After Trevor gets grievously injured by a night creature, he and Sypha return to Dracula's castle to seek Alucard's help. The man they find there, however, is but a shadow of the friend they left behind.

Meanwhile, in far Styria, Hector does his best to survive in the vampires' court, a lamb amidst wolves. Little do the wolves know, the lamb has fangs of its own.

Or: I saw the new artwork for Season 4 and I’m SO HYPED, and I want more Castlevania content now, or preferably yesterday. Also, my boy Alucard needs love. :’)

CW: Blood (obviously), Injury

Read here or on AO3!

Chapter 1: Blood on White

Blood. There is blood everywhere: on his hands, on the sheets, on the floor, on the gilded bedposts. The smell of it, thick and cloying, clinging to his nostrils. Sumi and Taka's bodies are lying beside him, unmoving, and he lies still with them. The silence that spreads after their hearts finally stop beating and their eyes glaze over is deafening.

How did this happen? How?

It is minutes, hours, days later, for all he knows, when he finally pushes himself up. He sits at the edge of the bed, for he is sure his legs will give way if he stands. Adrian glances about him, at the place that was his room, and not a place of death, only a short while before. His gaze falls on the vase of roses by his bedside table; blood roses, their crimson blossoms soft like velvet under his fingertips. His mother's favourites, said to bloom where blood has been spilled the thickest.

There's hope to be found in the grimmest of places, Adrian, she would always say, and smile. Kindness is a gift freely given.

Kindness. Hope. Notions he tried to fool himself with, sentiments that were dangled before him, like an apple before a starving man. He ran after them, stretched bodily to grasp them, only for them to turn to ashes in his hands. Only for the people he trusted —so readily, foolishly— to turn against him at the first chance they got.

Adrian could laugh. Who is he, to be kind and hopeful? Does he deserve it? Can he afford it?

Can anyone?

The vase crashes against the wall when he swipes at it with his arm, the glass shattering, the blooms scattering on the floor. He is not his mother's son.

"I am my father's son," he declares as he drags Sumi and Taka's lifeless bodies to his front door, as he sharpens the stakes, as he mounts them both on them. He stands long, makes himself watch their blood stained nightclothes flutter with the wind, the morning sun touch their ashen faces.

This is trust, he tells himself, and its price.

It is not a mistake he is about to make again.

~

“Just hold on. We’ll be there soon.”

Trevor blinks blearily when bright sunlight stabs his sore, tired eyes. His head hurts. His lungs burn. The wound at his side sends sharp jolts of pain through him every time the carriage bumps on a rock or a fallen log- which is, frankly, all the bloody time as they follow that old, unkempt dirt road. The reek of old booze and acrid night creature blood that still clings to his cloak is not helping the situation much, either.

God, he just needs a fucking drink.

“I don’t see how riding to a castle in the middle of nowhere is going to help us, Sypha,” he groans, and immediately regrets it when the dryness in his throat sends him into a fit of coughing.

Sypha clicks her tongue and frowns. “It’s not about the castle, you—”

Trevor can almost hear the mild insult that's lingering at the tip of her tongue, but she bites it back. The fact that she refrains from snapping at him, even though she's worried and obviously frustrated, only reminds him of the seriousness of his injury. And he doesn't bloody need any further bloody reminders that his life is hanging by a thread.

“I’m fine,” he croaks. “Really.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Sypha mutters irritably, eyes fixed on the road before her as she urges the horses to go faster. Her full, rosy lips are set in a grim line, her eyes red, her cheeks drawn from weariness. They have been riding like mad for two days now, stopping only to rest and water the horses for a bit. Trevor is feeling quite weary himself, but seeing Sypha so haggard only makes everything a thousand times worse. He hates to see her so worried, and for a louse like him.

He shifts a little closer to her, wincing at the sharp pain from the wound. “Sypha—”

“You are not fine, Trevor!” Her gaze flicks to him, her bright blue eyes sparkling with anger, gleaming with tears that are this close to being shed. “You are not. I’ve done all I can for you, but I can do no more. That’s why we’re going there. You are not going to change my mind.”  

“And how exactly is Alucard going to help? Is he a healer as well as an arrogant bastard?”

“He knows far more about medicine than anyone within a hundred miles from here, and then some. The castle holds ingredients that most people in the rest of the world have never even seen. We are going there, and you will be nice to him, or I will box your ears. Yes?”

Trevor rolls his eyes and looks away, mumbling curses under his breath. It is hard to argue with her when his wound stabs at him at every breath. Yes, it is definitely the wound, he tells himself. He is perfectly capable of holding his own in an argument with her under any other circumstances. Perfectly capable. Absolutely.  

Trevor sighs. He just needs a drink. And a nice, long sleep. That's what he needs, what will sort him out. It always does. He leans back into the seat, letting his head rest on the smooth wood.

“There.”

Sypha’s voice rouses him from what must have been a very light and troubled sleep. Not that he can tell the difference between that and utter agony these days. He opens his eyes, squinting at the familiar curve of the road that led to the Belmont hold. To his once home.

“Just hold on a moment longer,” she says soothingly, drawing the horses back to a steady canter. “Alucard will fix you right up. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see us after so long, don’t you think?”

The stench of rotting flesh drifting with the eastern wind reaches them well before the carriage finally stops. Two corpses, cold and rigid, their eye-sockets picked clean by the vultures, staring up into a grey, unforgiving sky.

Sypha gapes at them, unblinking, like she has forgotten how to breathe.

“I don’t know, Sypha,” Trevor mutters, strained, under his breath. “That doesn’t look like a bloody warm welcome to me.”

Without a word, she hops down from the carriage, taking a few tentative steps forward. The staked corpses are frightful to look at, without a doubt. Whoever did that, Trevor thinks, must have been holding a hell of a grudge.

“What on earth,” he hears Sypha whispering under her breath. She turns to look at him, and he simply shrugs. What can he possibly do?

Sypha blinks slowly up at the stakes once more, her brows gathered in a furrow, before coming back to the carriage. Making himself stand up and lower himself to the ground takes up every last bit of strength that has been left to him, despite him dropping most of his weight on poor Sypha. She groans underneath him, wrapping her arm around his waist to keep him steady.

“God, you stink,” she protests, taking a shaky step forward. Trevor rolls his eyes, but even that takes effort.

“You don’t exactly smell like roses yourself,” he grunts, following as best he could without tripping on the hem of his bedraggled cloak.

Sypha snorts, leaning her head against his shoulder for a breath. “Ass.”

He tries for a clever quip to make her laugh, but her smile falters when he starts coughing again, so hard that he is sure the wound has opened again. He shivers when he feels warm blood seeping through the bandage. "I sure hope Alucard is home," he pants weakly, "and hasn't gone into a little nightly escapade."

Sypha holds him more tightly, even though her arms and legs are shaking now. “Just a little further. Just until we get to the steps-”

Trevor barely hears what she says before his vision darkens. The stone steps rise up to meet him at lightning speed, knocking the air out of his lungs. White hot pain lances through his entire body, blocking out everything else.

Sypha frantically banging on the tall, gilded door of the castle is what pulls him out if the darkness.

“Alucard!” she cries, again and again, hitting the door with her fists. Her voice is raw and hoarse— she must have been at it for a while while he was unconscious. “Alucard! Open up! Ugh, where is he?” She turns to him, her round blue eyes wide and disturbingly liquid in the morning light. “Just— just hold on, Trevor,” she pleads before raising her fist to knock on the door once more.  

The heavy doors creak ominously as they slowly peel apart. Sypha’s hand hovers in the air for a breath before she lets it fall, watching while sunlight flooded the thick darkness beyond the door.

The figure that walks out is pale, skin almost translucent in the bright light. Hair like spun gold falling freely about his shoulders. Face smooth and cold, as if carved in marble. Gaunt. More gaunt than Trevor remembers. His gaze hard and aloof when it sweeps over them both. Trevor sees those familiar golden eyes widening in shock when they fall on him, sprawled as he is on the ground.

“Sypha,” Alucard says. “What happened?”

The voice is low and throaty, hoarse, like he hasn’t used it in a while. Or like he just woke up. Wouldn’t surprise him if Alucard decided to take a bloody nap the whole time he and Sypha were out, killing monsters. That’s what vampires do after all, isn't it? Yet, those corpses were fresh. No more than a couple days, a week at the most. That week has been cold, so it would have stopped the flesh from rotting too soon. If it is Alucard that did it, that is. There is still the possibility that he didn't, and that he isn't the mindless beast that Trevor has been brought up to believe of his kind.

He blinks up at him, watching him through the cloud that threatens to descend on him again. Alucard’s gaze does not fall on the bodies when he drags it away from Trevor and fixes it on Sypha. Not once. Not even by accident.

The absolute, bloody bastard.

Sypha straightens, regarding him curiously. It evidently hasn’t been lost on her either that Alucard is not in the least surprised by the bodies at his front door. “Trevor has been hurt,” she says, her voice trembling only a little. “Will you help us?”

Instead of a response, Alucard brushes past her, coming to loom over him. The sunlight casts a halo around his golden hair, shadows on his sharp features. “Can you walk?”

Trevor scoffs, then coughs. He brings his hand before his mouth, and when he withdraws it, there is blood. “Do I look like I can walk?”

Alucard raises a brow at that. Whether it is for his response or for the blood on his hand, Trevor can't say. He kneels before him, snaking one arm behind his shoulders, the other under his knees. “I’m going to lift you now.”

“Whoa, wait-” Trevor doesn't even manage to protest before he is picked up off the ground and lifted into Alucard’s arms, like a blushing bride on the way to her marriage bed. He attempts a weak struggle, but Alucard’s voice is firm.

“Stop moving. You’ll hurt yourself even more. Not that you need much help with that, but still.”

Trevor rolls his eyes, frowning even as he winces in pain. “Ever the pompous prick,  Alucard. How nice to see you again.”

The dhampir’s gaze is locked straight ahead as he walks, not even deigning to answer. That is… odd. To say the least. Alucard always rises to his barbs, and Trevor to his, however petulant or childish. There is a somberness to him, a sort of stillness; it is like looking at the smooth surface of a frozen lake. It unnerves Trevor more than he can say.

But then again, it could just be that Trevor's not thinking straight. The pain that stabs him every time he so much as bloody blinks isn't exactly conducive to thought.

Sypha shuffles after them, the hem of her robes whispering around her ankles as she tries to catch up with Alucard’s long strides. He walks smoothly, evenly, with the grace of a dancer, or that of a swan gliding along calm waters, and the steady rocking makes it even harder to keep his eyes open. Trevor loses track of how many flights of stairs they ascend, or how many endless, identical-looking corridors they cross, but at length Alucard stops before a door and pushes it open.

The room he takes him in is wide and spacious, with a large hearth, a thick red carpet that muffles the sound of Alucard's boots, and one of the biggest beds Trevor has ever laid eyes upon- with a mountain of pillows and a red velvet canopy, with carved mahogany bedposts and gilded bedside tables and whatnot- he is far too dazed to notice more, but even he can tell the thing is luxurious.

Alucard’s hair brushes his face when he gently -surprisingly gently- sets him atop the bed. His pale golden strands smell of fresh chopped wood and wild berries, Trevor remarks absently.

“How did he get hurt?” he asks, turning to Sypha.

“Oy,” Trevor grumbles weakly. The mattress is so soft and inviting he feels like he is sinking in it, but he makes an effort to keep his eyes open. “I’m still conscious, thank you very much. You don’t have to talk like I'm not here.”

“As it is, Belmont, I do not believe you’re in any position to give an accurate account of your injuries,” Alucard replied coldly. “It is best, perhaps for everyone, if you try not to talk much.” His golden gaze slides off him swiftly to return to Sypha. Arrogant sod.

“We were in Lindenfeld, a few days ago.” Sypha comes to sit beside him on the bed. “There was… an attack. Night creatures. Powerful ones. There was a portal, and they kept streaming… We managed to make it out of there alive, but the damage was already done. All the night creatures within twenty miles from here have gathered in the woods beyond the town, and are terrorising the villages along the country road. We tried to stop them, kill as many as we could, but...” Her lips tightens in a line, her gaze falling on Trevor.

“A portal?” Alucard asks, as if he hasn't heard a word of what Sypha has said.

Her eyes meet his. “An Infinite Corridor.”

Fair eyebrows lift ever so slightly along a pale, smooth forehead. “Those creatures you speak of. What kind of night creature was it that attacked him?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know its name, or its kind. I’ve never seen the like. It possessed a level of intelligence, for one. And it was made up of dozens of souls. Like the one that was trapped under the priory in Lindenfeld, but... different. Vicious. Frantic.”

“The bastard wouldn’t stay dead,” Trevor croaks, and coughs again.

“It had those glowy eyes and those sharp claws—” She rubs her temples, sighing. “It caught Trevor with one of those claws. I’ve done all I can to heal him, but the wound refuses to close. The flesh knits back together, albeit weakly, but then the smallest movements rip it open again. Healing is not my expertise, but even so, I should have been able to treat it. I don’t know what it is—”

The desperation in her voice makes Trevor’s heart tighten. He hates that she's so tired, so worried; he hates that it is he that has brought her to this state. He never makes things easy for her, damn him. Not that she makes things easy for him, but even so, it is he that should be looking out for her, not the other way round. If only he'd been more careful, if only he'd seen the attack before it came—

He reaches out to place his hand on her forearm. “Sypha,” he says softly.

She pats his hand and gives him a tight smile. “We’ll find out what it is. Yes? Alucard and I. We’ll heal you. Right, Alucard?” She turns her gaze to their friend. Their once friend. God knows what he is now. Trevor does not dare to trust him, but he's their last hope.

Alucard’s eyes linger on them for a long moment, and Trevor thinks he sees something flashing in them; something sad and desperate, but it's gone in an instant. The dhampir's gaze is icy once more when he says, “I have to see the wound for myself. I'll need you to take off your clothes.”

“Now, hold on—”

“I’ll help,” Sypha says promptly, reaching out to undo the clasp of his cloak. “You needed a change of clothes anyway.” Her smile is still on her lips, but it never reaches her eyes, so it is hardly a comfort. His cloak comes off, then his thick leather jerkin. He tenses when she starts pulling at the laces on his undershirt, with Alucard watching over her shoulder.

“That'll do,” he hears Alucard say. “I can inspect the wound without completely undressing him.”

Well, that, at least, is somewhat fortunate.

Sypha edges back as Alucard bent over him, long fingers dragging his shirt up from the waistband of his breeches. Even though the wound is wrapped with fresh bandages he can still feel the fabric brushing over it, and he bites his lip down hard to stop himself from wincing. Alucard produces a small pocket knife out of thin air and starts cutting away the blood soaked cloth. When he peels it back, a strong acrid smell of sepsis fills his nostrils. Trevor almost gags, almost —almost— faints.

The frown that creases Alucard’s brow does not help one bit.

“How long ago did he get this?” he asks Sypha.

“Three days ago,” Trevor responds, more gruffly than he intends as pain lanced through him once again. Even the air touching the wound makes him squirm.

Alucard’s frown deepens. “It shouldn’t have reached this level of infection in just three days. I’m surprised you’re still on your feet.”

“Us Belmonts are hard kill,” he says, and regrets it as soon as does. Sympathy warms Alucard’s gaze for the briefest of moment, so brief Trevor thinks he imagines it, before it is swiftly hidden behind his impervious mask once more. It is enough to make a spark of irritation flicker in his chest, however weak. Why s Alucard pitying him, anyway? His lot is worse than his own.

That shouldn’t have made Trevor’s heart clench as it does. He looks away.

There is nothing that Trevor can make out of Alucard's expression when he straightens. Or perhaps it is that the pain and the exhaustion finally taking hold. “I’ll bring something for the pain, and to stem the bleeding. As to how to treat the infection, that will require some research.”

“How much?” Sypha asks, and this time she doesn't even bother to hide her worry. “It’s spreading quickly. I don’t think we-” She stops herself, her fists bunching up the fabric of her skirt.

“Just say it, Sypha." Trevor lets out a huff and sinks back into the pillows. "I’m not a child.”

She shoots him a glare. “What I meant to say, is that I don’t think we can afford to let more time pass.”

“What we can afford even less is a mistake," Alucard says. He clasps his hands behind his back as he draws himself up to his full height. The bastard is tall, Trevor will give him that. "I’m not much of a healer, but I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you,” Sypha says softly, breathing a sigh of relief. “We appreciate it. Really.”

Alucard’s gaze flicks between the two for a breath —golden, luminous, and so bloody cold and aloof it sends a shiver up Trevor's spine— before he turns to leave. The room somehow feels warmer after he's gone.

As soon as he was gone, Sypha lets out a long sigh, dragging her palm down her face. Her hand stops just before her eyes, and she peers at him through her fingers.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Trevor groans. “If I had any clue what was going on, I wouldn’t be lying here on this bed, waiting for Alucard, of all people, to take pity on me and save my life.”

“No one’s taking pity on you, you silly ox,” she mutters, shifting closer beside him on the bed again. She stares at him, her large, clear sky eyes reflecting the sunlight pouring through the window like glass. “Something very wrong has happened here, Trevor. I can feel it.”

“What gave it away? The staked corpses by the front door? Or that the half-vampire lordling seems to have a stick farther up his arse than usual?”

She blinks. “Both?”

Trevor sighs. “Yes. Both. More, probably. Give it some time. We’ve only been here a few minutes.”

She taps her chin thoughtfully, glancing towards the door. “We’ll get to the bottom of this,” she says, her brows gathering in that determined frown of hers he’s come to know quite well. “We have to. Something’s fishy. Very fishy.”

“Sure, sure, yeah. For now, let's just hope whatever he brings for the pain is strong enough to knock me out for a day or two.” He sinks back into the bed, his eyes closing on their own, but not before his gaze falls on a gilded cabinet by the window. “Think there’s any liquor in there?”

Sypha snorts, rolling her eyes. “Just go to sleep, Belmont.”

Her cool fingertips against his brow is the last thing Trevor feels before the world grows dark.

[more-stuff-of-pi]

Promises and Threats and the Kisses in Between

a/n: how is it that the one fic that I’m really not sure about is also my longest one? i’m a clown, that’s how. dedicated to mom and all the Makki simps out there. lmk how to better characterize our good boi :’(

notes: it might not be v clear but this is a college!au technically. i did not re-read this at all so apologies in advance. i’m also the worst at tenses ugh! requests are open :) find my masterlist here

pairing: hanamaki takahiro x fem!reader | genre: minor angst (w/lots of fluff) | warnings: swearing | word count: 2,618 (edited: 11/12/20)

The odd thing about being sad is that there were different types of sad. There was the kind of sad that had you screaming into a pillow for release. There was the kind of sad that had you feeling like someone had scraped your throat with sandpaper and had forced you to chop onions for hours. And then there was the kind of sad that left you feeling hollow, amiss. At first, you might think that you’re having an off day or that you’re simply in a bit of a ‘funk’. But then, as the day drags on and nothing -- not even mindlessly binging a new season or the same one you’ve seen a million times -- offers you a sense of fulfillment, you come to understand that you’re experiencing a kind of sad.

That kind of sad is one that pulls you in like a siren’s call, subtle and sweet, almost, until you notice that your head is sinking under water and your hand is desperately clutching at nothing but air. It’s the kind of sad that you suffer quietly, settling over you without rhyme or reason. The kind of sad that’s like water in a pot. Once it’s hot enough, it comes boiling over, raging and uncontrollable until someone turns off the heat.

You were feeling that kind of sad -- you had had a rough day to say the least.

And it wasn’t anything in particular that had sent you spiralling. Rather, your insecurities that you’d locked away neatly had sprung free like Pandora’s box, crawling and fighting and clawing their way out, smiling demons emerging victoriously from their solemn slumber. You had tried for hours to ignore them, flinging yourself into meaningless tasks. When that didn’t work, you tried shoving them back inside. Needless to say, that also did not work.

Which is how you found yourself staring at your phone, Hanamaki Takahiro’s contact glaring up at you. You had been like that for a few minutes, apparently hoping that some spirit would possess you and just push the damn call button for you already. But, you sighed, it seemed like you would have to find the courage to do it yourself. And it’s not like you should even need the courage! This asshole was your best friend of nearly ten years, whether he or you liked it or not, and there shouldn’t be a single problem in pushing that fucking button.

And yet, that was another thing about this kind of sad. It made you feel utterly, hopelessly, simply… alone.

But you had more faith in your friendship than what any kind of sad could tell you otherwise.

You pushed the damn call button.

“Yo,” Hanamaki picked up on the third ring. “What’s up, shithead?” In the background you heard guns blazing and dramatic music swelling to its climax.

You chuckled weakly, doing your best to reply as usual. “Nothing much, ugly.”

“Whoa, you okay? That had none of your typical asshat-ery to it.” Leave it to Hanamaki to notice that your insults had less bite than normal.

“Maybe I’m feeling nice,” you tried to cover.

“You? Being nice? To me?,” Makki questioned and you could hear his teasing smile, “Never.”

“Like anyone would ever be nice to a moron like you,” you heard someone in the background say. Matsukawa, maybe.

“Makki! We’re in the middle of a movie, put the phone away!” You could tell immediately from the nickname and the ever present whine that it was Oikawa which meant that it was definitely Matsukawa from before which meant that Iwaizumi was also present.

“Oh, shit, sorry. I forgot you had guys’ night or whatever the hell Oikawa makes you call it,” you apologized, tugging at the hem of your sweatshirt. On second thought, it might have been Hanamaki’s. It was certainly large enough to be.

You heard Hanamaki move, the background noise growing more distant. “Nah, don’t worry about it. He’s making us watch some stupid fucking alien movie that I swear he’s seen, like, fifteen times.”

“This is only my eighth time, jeez!”

Oikawa yelped as Iwaizumi undoubtedly hit him. “Shut it, Trashykawa.”

“Atta boy, Iwaizumi,” Makki cheered, drawing himself further from the noise. You heard a click of a door, assuming he had found a separate room. “So? What’s up?”

“Oh. Nothing,” you half-lied. There was something wrong, you supposed, you just didn’t know what.

“Bullshit,” Hanamaki said firmly, “you’re a terrible liar. Something’s bothering you and you never call unless you either need something or you had a shitty day.”

You scoffed. “I call you just to call you!”

“Last time you called me you asked me to get you a meat bun and you hung up before I could say anything,” Makki reminded you, amusement clear in his voice.

“Okay, well,” you said sheepishly, “it worked. So… there.”

He laughed, the sound light and mischievous. It never failed to make you smile, even if the smile now was small and half-hearted. “You’re such a dork.”

“Why thank you, I try.”

“Yeah, sure seems like it half the time.”

You would have punched him if he were there with you. “Hey!”

“You said it first, not me,” he chuckled. He waited for a few moments, perhaps for you to say something, but you honestly didn’t know what to say. You were sad but you didn’t know why and you felt like the whole world was against you. It was a miracle you were even able to call Hanamaki in the first place. He sighed. “Meat buns or Pocky?”

The question startled you as your brows knitted together. “What?”

“Fuck it, I’ll just bring both. I’ll be at yours as soon as I can.”

Your eyes widened as you tried to stop Hanamaki. “Hana, wait, no--”

A door opened and the background noise of the movie became clearer as Makki moved yet again. “Yo, Shittykawa! Got any Pocky?”

“Get away from my kitchen, you snack monster!” you heard the man squawk.

“Nevermind, I’ll just get it with the meat buns. Oh,” Makki seemed to remember that he hadn’t hung up on you and softly said, “I’ll see you in thirty minutes, Y/n.” And the line went silent. 

“What the hell?” you whispered to yourself. You glanced outside your window, surprised that it was already dark outside, meaning that you had wasted away your entire day. You didn’t know what you expected to come out of talking with Hanamaki, but it certainly wasn't for him to ditch his friends to come see you. You sighed, flopping back across your bed and closing your eyes to take a few moments to focus on your breathing. The pilates girls on campus were always preaching about how good it was to take a few centering, meditative breaths throughout the day. Hanamaki and you constantly snickered at their bullshit but right now, you honestly felt as if you were a dam with a weak point, just waiting for that one final push to break you. So if the pilates girls were right and this whole centering bullshit ended up not being complete bullshit and it didn’t hurt to just breathe -- what the hell, might as well try something. All of your previous attempts turned out to be useless, so what harm could deep breaths do? You honestly were just hoping to keep your mind occupied until Hanamaki apparently showed up on your doorstep, ditching his old high school teammates he only gets to see every now and then in favor of coming to see your mopey ass. He just saw through you so easily -- a spy career was out of the cards for you, you mused -- that it was almost infuriating. All because the usual insult that you fling his way sounded a little less bitchy. Damn him and his stupidly keen intuition.

The breathing thing must have worked because, before you know it, your door is opening and Hanamaki is calling out a casual “Yo!” as he lets himself in.

You groan, forcing yourself to get up and actually greet him. He’s in your kitchen, shuffling through the fridge to find the beer you keep for him hidden in the back. You can tell he’s been sweating, beads of it lightly dripping down his temples. “You stink, ugly.”

Makki turns around beer in hand, lifting an eyebrow at you. “Nice to see you, too.”

“You’re sweating, what else am I supposed to say?”

He rolls his eyes, clutching dramatically at his heart. “I ran here from the station and I even brought you food and this is how you repay me? Some friend.” He gestures to the bag sitting on your countertops. “You’re welcome, by the way,” he adds, sipping from his beer.

"Hana, you didn't have--"

Hanamaki huffs, lazily waving your words away. "Yeah, yeah, but food always helps when you're feeling down and you've been nagging me to get you meat buns for the past two weeks." He gave you a pointed look. “So consider this as me caving. I even got you Pocky, too.”

You persist, "Still--"

"Listen," he sighed, glancing at you, his features almost bored, "I know you're sad and there's nothing wrong with a guy wanting to be there for his best friend, now is there?"

(Your heart did a weird thing and you knew it was because he had called you his best friend but you had always been that and would continue to always be that, so what was the problem?)

You shifted your feet, tugging at the hem of your shirt. "Well, no, but guys night--"

"Whatever, I see those guys every month," 

You quirked your brows. "You see me almost every day, Hana, we go to the same college."

"Yeah, but I actually like you instead of those dweebs. Plus, you’re sad. I’d be a dick if I just ignored that." Hanamaki made his way over to your couch, perching onto the arm, facing you and nursing his stolen drink.

You crossed your arms as you leaned against the counter. “You’re really annoying for being able to do that, by the way.”

“For being able to do what?”

“For being able to tell that I’m sad! Sometimes a girl just wants to be sad by herself.”

Makki quirked his brow. “You called me, princess.” You swallowed the heat that wanted to rise at hearing your best friend call you that.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have,” you choked out defiantly.

Hanamaki grins as you huff, snatching a box of the mint chocolate biscuit sticks and tearing into it, crunching one into your mouth. You glared at him as you swallowed the treat, his stupidly cute smirk doing its best to coax more warmth to flood your system.

“You’re feeling better now, yeah?” he asks, after a minute. You nod reluctantly to which he chuckles, grin never once leaving his face. “So you don’t mind if I tell you something?”

You cock your head to the side, a little confused. Usually the asshole doesn’t hesitate to ask you the most invasive questions so you can only wonder. "Tell me what?"

Makki nods, chugging the rest of his beer – you didn’t notice how little of it was left in the first place – and sets the bottle down onto the coffee table. "It's been on my mind for a really long time, now. Like, months. Years, even."

"That's surprising, I didn't know you could think for that long."

A wide grin split over his mouth. "Oh, shut it."

A matching smile lifts the corners of your mouth. "So, Hana, what has your brain so occupied? You need all the space you can get up there."

He exhales a shaky, laughing breath. You wonder why he seems so nervous. He never gets nervous. There's even a flush to his cheeks that you don't think is just from the beer. “I think," he says slowly, methodically," I’m in love with you. No, I know I’m in love with you.”

Your heart feels like it comes to an utterly abrupt stop. You swear you can feel it seize up. Heat climbs up your body, swirling throughout. Maybe you should have cleaned your ears while you were waiting for him to show up, you don't think you heard him correctly. “What?”

“My stupid fucking heart does this really stupid fucking thing where it feels like it can skip a beat when you call me ugly. My goddamn lungs feel like they are entirely incapable of breathing properly when I’m around you because I just love you so much–”

“That sounds like a personal problem,” you blurt out, wincing at your lack of self control.

Makki stops and just stares at you. Your fingers immediately find the hem of your shirt once again, playing with it to distract you from the total fool that you made of yourself. But, then again, that wasn’t anything new around Makki… who continues to just stare at you. And then he’s bursting into fits of laughter, trying to hold them in and only making the choking sounds worse.

“Did you– did you just… fucking insult me while I was confessing? Ouch,” he wheezed.

“I– This doesn’t happen to me very often, Hanamaki, how the hell else do you expect me to react?”

He quieted and for the first time when he looked at you, he looked almost shy. Almost. He was still the same calm and collected Hanamaki Takahiro that you had grown to adore. “Maybe for you to say that you love me, too?”

Your breathing hitched and you finally allowed yourself to admit that your heart always did weird things around your best friend because you were maybe, sort of, wholeheartedly in love with him too.

“Is this how you cheer girls up when they’re sad? By telling them that you love them?”

His smile is soft and kind. “Only the ugly ones.” You groaned, covering your face at his idiocy. “And the ones I get to call mine.”

Your heart fluttered as you peeked at him from beneath your hands. “There better only be one.”

“Is..." he takes a deep breath, "Is that ‘one’ gonna be you?”

You gulp underneath his serious stare, entirely unused to it. “O-Only if you don’t mind being the uglier half.”

It takes a moment for him to register your words and watching him do so is like watching fireworks explode. His whole body lights up and his face is quick to be reignited with his signature grin, his eyes beaming with joy and pride. In order to do something, anything but look at Hanamaki, you snatch up another Pocky, stuffing it into your mouth.

Emboldened by your return of his affections, Hanamaki slinks over, bracing himself against the counter with his arms on either side of you. A hand comes to gently guide your chin to look at him. Impossibly, his smirk grows wider as he bravely leans in and bites down on the half of the Pocky sticking straight out of your mouth. His eyes are alive with amusement in the face of your embarrassment. Honestly though, you couldn't tell if you were more mildly disgusted or vaguely turned on.

"If you don't fucking kiss me, I'll kiss you myself." It was impossible not to glance at his lips.

His grin widens, licking at his lips hungrily. "Is that a promise or a threat?"

"Both," you breathe, butterflies battering around your stomach like crazy.

"Nice," he grins and then you’re both diving in for a kiss, both of your hearts swelling with joy and amusement and the pleasurable insanity of being in love with your best friend.

So here’s to promises and threats and the kisses in between.

taglist: @samwrights​ 

[tellywoodtrash]

immj2 06.04.21 lb

lollipop girl figuring out ki ohhhh it was vansh i handed the black box off to that day. ok and???? who gave you the box in the first place to give it to him????? WHO ARE YOU WORKING FOR??? WHY YOU HERE??

oh shit she got kidnapped and coerced into it and........... tattooed or some shit??? she herself can't seem to remember what she has to do with this infernal black box.

vansh giving angre deets of where exactly in the jungle he conked off for 6 hours. man, will we figure this shit out this week or naah? this show always kheenchofies the lamest of "mysteries" for literal monthssssssssss.

angre talking good sense, ki is figuring this out more important to you than riddhima herself??? man, angre...... you're too pure for this world and this fam.

my god the stink-eye vansh gave him. vansh you're a hella bad husband. kuch seekho angre se. honestly.

anyway, vansh frames this bs as being worried for the family and sends angre off on his way.

ANGRE'S SHOULDER STILL HURTS AND VANSH OFFERS TO GO INSTEAD IN THAT PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE WAY THAT DOESN'T REALLY GIVE YOU AN OPTION AND MAN............. I REALLY HATE VANSH. HE JUST SUCKS AS A HUMAN BEING ON THE WHOLE.

package for riddhima that chachi intercepts coz she likes how the box looks. iss family mein sab ke sab pagal hain.

opens it and there's a dabbe mein dabba and some gold chain with a tackyass pendent in it. gold hai, toh ofc chachi keeps it.

it was sent by vyom. thankfully some samajhdaar naukar told riddhima ki chachi le gayi aapka parcel.

chachi gives her some other pendent altogether.

lmaoooooooooooooooo, riddhima's like huh? this looks so real? i ordered some artificial stuff. this is realllllll pretty and legit looking. phas gayi chachiiiiiiiii. 2 lakh ka asli maal riddhima ko pakda diya.

chachi finally fesses up and gives her the one that came for her. i loveeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee smart!riddhima who's playing every asshole in this house.

riddhima finds siya coming home in her sexy sari at bloody 2 am. she just asks siya where she's been and ishani comes and defends her and takes her away.

riddhima noticed that her earring was missing though, and remembers creepy zero fucker playing with a earring that looks exactly like that. tries to warn siya ki sambhal jao, tumhare lakshan theek nahi lag rahe; and ofc siya's rebelliousness kicks in and she's all YOU'RE NOT MY REAL MOM OKAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYY.

btw only dumbass teens and those who aren't really properly adults say this I'M AN ADULT I KNOW WHAT I'M DOING OK YOU DON'T NEED TO TELL ME bullshit. as a fully grown adult i am legit here 5 days a week crying, SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME WHAT TO DO I LITERALLY HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA HOW TO GO ABOUT SHIT WHY DIDN'T THEY TEACH ME THIS SHIT IN SCHOOL INSTEAD OF MITOCHONDRIA IS THE POWERHOUSE OF THE CELL??!?!

so anyway, we can cut siya from the list of sensible ppl in this house. bacha sirf angre.

angre's gonna set off on his jungle trek but wife's here in a sari to seduce him.

angre's like babe i love it and i love you but can i take a raincheck?

TO WHICH THIS CRAZYASS B PULLS HIS GUN AND PUTS IT ON HER OWN MAATHA. MAN.................... ALL THESE FUCKING RAISINGHANIA SIBS NEED TO BE PUT IN INTENSIVE COUNSELING BEFORE ALLOWED TO GET INTO A RELATIONSHIP WITH SOME POOR UNSUSPECTING SUCKER. tbh, i'm kinda scared and worried for vyom now, seeing what kinda crazy siya could unleash on him. riddhima really worried for the wrong person in that dynamic.

she's legit asking him to choose between work or wife and he's like taking it pretty chill and like, both are pretty important to me.

ohhhhhh, he's chill coz the gun isn't loaded. lmao. i think he's learnt it's best to have an unloaded gun in this house around these crazies.

to which ishani is now yelling at him for walking around with an empty gun which is hella unsafe for him.

he's like ok fine...... it's loaded. i just said it to get you to drop the gun. MAN, EVERYONE HERE JUST GETS OFF ON LIES AND SUBTERFUGE. WHY ARE YOU PPL LIKE THIS?!!???!?!?

ishani's like could you please just leave this horrible job with my disgusting brother who doesn't care about anyone but himself????? now that, she's right about.

anyway this convo is pointless. angre would leave ishani before he'd leave vansh, so............. yeah.

fuck man they really dressing vansh in these white shirts and solid neutral blazers and getting me going unfffffffffff.

time for riddhima and vansh's vague flirtation convo of the day.

after lotsa shakki looks at each other, V finally leaves. riddhima hands off a flask of some healing drink to angre as he heads off on his hike.

idhar anupriya's informing vansh of dadi's newly developed anorexia and sending him off with a full tray. god what a useless filler ep this is.

angre trying to talk sense into the other half of the relationship, asking riddhima why she's pulling this shit, does she not love vansh anymore?

riddhima's like i'm doing it for him; tum nahi samjhoge. *sigh* we know, sis. we all know you are doing this FOR him only. ugh. majaal hai jo tum apne liye kuch karo.

vansh here to coax secrets outta dadi. will it work tho?

nope. she's lying to him and saying she's just worried about "the family" and they hug it out. MAN WHY IS THIS EPISODE SO BORING!?!?!!? NOTHING IS HAPPENINGGGGGGGGG.

riddhima's in the secret room manhandling the safe and instantly the alarms go off. SIS I THOUGHT YOU ALREADY FORESAW THIS IN YOUR DREAM AND MADE ANOTHER PLAN?!?!?!!?

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand vansh is here.

lol she makes no bones about coming here for the "precious stuff". and quicklyyyyyy changes that into HIM being the precious thing she's here for. lmao so laaaaame.

"mujhe safe mein kyun dhoond rahi thi tum?" lmaoooooooooooo

she's like i came to KEEP something in the safe. that do takke ka pendent, which she bought for herself as an anniversary gift from him. lol man, she's got the dumbest fucking story.

he showed her where he keeps the remote of the safe. on purpose i'm sure.

i can't focus on this scene due to how fucking thick rrahul's beard is. MAN SOMEONE GIVE THE MAN 30 MIN TO TRIM IT, IT LOOKS RIDICULOUS. IT AS GHANNA AS THE JUNGLE ANGRE IS ROAMING IN RN.

anyway he's promising to give her a better gift than this: the details of what went down in those 6 hours. so stupid, who would want something they already have?????

precap: same as yest, but one added scene of riddhima and vansh playing darts. okay????????

[docholligay]

LIVESTREAM WINNERS AND TOP POINT COMMENTS

THose of you who read the schedule already know this but the winners are:

HOLLIGAY INVOKES THE SPIRIT OF CLOSET GHOST 

and

WE COOK FOR DINNER IN THE APOCALYPSE

Please join me for both! It’ should be a terrifying, thrilling time. 

AND NOW, THOSE OF YOU WHO MADE ME FEEL THE WARMEST. Thank you to all who answered--I know this was super self indulgent and it means a lot to me that you took the time. So, literally 12 out of the 13 of you got at least one point (One person did not give any details, or even a quote) MAZEL. 

Point allocations are below!!

One point winners: 

4(?)ish years ago, you sent Jet a series of letters/cards/funeral lilies, from different Sailor Moon characters. The lilies were for Mako. One card was from Michiru, after Haruka's death. I have never been able to find them again, but I just loved the care you put into them--how they were all written specifically from the character, the fact that you even put tear stains and perfume on the cards. It was just so creative and touching, and it felt like the characters were real for an instant, mourning and living and giving you a peek at their lives. --- @kumeko (That was A Little Letter, and Mako’s was actually a separate thing for the same contest!) 

   “Before you get yourselves killed I want to go on record as saying this is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.” Rei stood with her hands on her hips at the front of the garage- from that short story about Mina and Haruka strapping an engine to a shopping cart. You can really feel how rei must feel, the resigned exasperation mixed with genuine, but hidden, concern for Mina and haruka’s safety. I think i have said the exactsame thing before people i know do stupid shit. --- BeefSalad33  (oh ma, an oldie but, I think, a goodie) 

OH MAN. I am always thinking nonstop about that piece where Minako confronts Seiya about bullying Haruka, specifically for the line where Mina spits out "you think she'll love you for this?" and UGH that LINE. it HAUNTS me, I want to BITE DOWN ON IT AND NEVER LET GO, I WANT TO PUT IT EVERYWHERE EVER BECAUSE IT HURTS SO GOOD, AND I DON'T EVEN CARE ABOUT SEIYA. --- @wouldntyoulichentoknow (I’m so glad that I’ve managed to make both you and jetty grit your teeth and care about Seiya at some point ahahah) 

"*But flowers grow from death and decay, don’t they? That has always been true, you know that, Mako. You are a rose of perfect beauty, grown in the rich fertilizer of your loss.*

She threw the stress ball across the room, knocking over the cup on the sink, spilling the ice down the drain."

The contrast between reminding herself of how life works, and then still being bitter about it, and knowing what she is and being frustrated about it. It's a lot, when sorting out various issues- i have trauma, and that makes me better at empathizing with people, i'm adaptable long-term, and that means i can put up with some bullshit, that kind of thing, but that doesn't mean those are wholly good things. It's nice to see it put into words, and so plainly, and with such a strong reaction of it.

Roses can still grow wild, as pretentious as that sounds with how your passage resonates to me, but it's still nice to feel that. ---- @katrani (I’m so glad it resonates with you! I liked that line a lot! ) 

2 point answers:

Christmas Carol, Stave 1 - “You are a terrible person,” she jutted out her chin, feigning strength. “Fareeha deserved much better than you. But,” she took a deep breath. “I still hope she forgives you, someday. Someday, I hope you will deserve it.” It feels like cheating to use the most recent thing you’ve written, but nonetheless this section conveys so much about your take on Mercy, so quickly. She may be an idealist, the peacekeeper and builder, and she may want Pharah to have a relationship with her mother that’s not this disaster, but that doesn’t stop her from acknowledging that Ana’s been the primary factor in making it what it is and telling Ana that directly. I love how you write Mercy (and Tracer for that matter) as very warm characters who try to see the best in their situations but won’t gloss over the fact that sometimes, someone does have to be shot in the fucking face. “Good” doesn’t mean “hopelessly naive”, even with a pacifist, and I appreciate that you have characters who show that. 

Bonus, and a fringe case as technically part of the Fushigi Yuigi hateblog: “She was still trying to get home, had been unable to get Tamahome to let her poison him, and then Nakago had hugged her into his chest until she had been forced to flatten him with a punch to the nads. She was tired, she was hungry, and she was trying to have a moonlight bath to consider her options and wash the stink of a man off of her.

And then, Tamahome, again.” - Haruka-gets-dumped-into-Fushigi-Yuugi-as-Yui was a delight that entire episode, but this post was one of the best. Is it really just narrativizing your frustrations with the many, many writing choices that were made here? Absolutely. But it’s a fun little bit of comedic pacing here, especially with the utter exhaustion of Haruka that this bullshit isn’t over yet. (“Fuck my life” to the moon wondering if Usagi could help and regretting how hard it would be to drown herself are close runners-up on that front.) --- Regalli 

(Mercy is, in many ways, my attempt to write someone who is MOSTLY a pacifist that I can respect. It’s not easy for me! I often find pacifism to be cowardice, because so often in life the people I know who are pacifists are, well, not the folks in the street. So i thought, could you write someone who is very hesitant to kill, who believes that even Doomfist, even Reaper, even whoever, deserve care if they are hurt, who believes that a sword will not leave her hand free to uplift the fallen, and make her brave? And make her strong? And so was born, Mercy, who proved that, yeah that person, at least in my mind, can exist.) 

I think one of my favorite passages from your writing is from "The Rest is Commentary". Particularly the part that starts with "I am a doer. " That entire paragraph is wonderfully written, with mix of beautifully descriptive language to describe *why* you don't trust words. It's slightly paradoxical, but it also fits with the rest of the essay (?) so well. And even beyond that,  I love reading when you write about your faith. You are deeply devout woman, and a personal aspiration to me. When you write about your faith, it reminds me that there is work that needs to be done to live it, and not easy work either. But it is very much worth every bead of sweat, and every drop of blood. --- @shavedjudomonkey 

(Thank you so much! I love that people have connected so much with my Jewish writing) 

3 point answers: 

From Requiem for the Great Consummation, I adore the word play with "compose." Ie, in the line, "Michiru folded her hands in her lap and composed herself." Why? I'm a musician. So, Michiru, with her music, holds a special place in my heart. (Why Ami gets the music attacks is beyond me. WTF?)  I don't think the writers ever really understood what it takes to be a musician, and while fanfic writers often include Michiru's music, I've never really seen it done well. (I'm sure it has been. I just haven't seen it.) Music is all about structure. It has to feel free and soaring, but it can only be that because of the intense amounts of tension and structure underneath. A kite without a string plummets. When I reach for high, soaring notes, that's when I have to be most conscious of having a solid base. Making music Is constant tension. So, often when I see writers portray musicians, it's all "she never felt so free and untethered as when she sang/played the,violin/piano/whatever." And I think, "wow, really? She must have been Crap." So, back to compose/compose. This wordplay shows that tension. The "I have rehearsed this 5,000 times and am still working so hard I'm sweating standing still in this freezing auditorium so that it can look and sound completely free and easy." This is Michiru's entire life. She is composing herself. She is outlining complex rhythms and tensions and resolutions that even though you hear when the piece is played, you don't fully take in or understand, and all you consciously comprehend is 'wow, pretty.' Because that's how music works. Organs have keys that can't be heard by the human ear, and composers include them in their pieces. Why? We can't hear them! But we feel them. If you look at the score for an orchestral piece, it contains So. Many. Notes. So much going on. But when you listen, all you hear is that melodic theme. But if you take out anything underneath, things change and cam fall apart. Michiru lives her life like that. She creates herself, composes herself, and it looks elegant and free and easy, but it is so so very tightly controlled and rehearsed, and that particular wordplay showed off that side of Michiru's music, which is one I don't get to see explored much. --- @incorrecttact 

(Thank you so much for this!! I am NOT a musician, but so much of Michiru and music speaks to me, the structure of it, the discipline, the way it allows you to express yourself while hiding behind something else. And yes! I think of that double meaning so much!)

I want you to know... that this was very, very difficult. I made a notepad and collected shit I'd pulled out from your work where I could find comments where I did such, and then I AGONIZED. Here is where I landed but know it's so close with other things god. 

"Winston worked in earnest at his inventions, and Emily went back to teaching, and the two of them began to cook for each other again. Family dinners once a week resumed, grew with some of the new recruits that were being folded into their family. Pharah and Mercy’s daughter took them to the zoo, the park, out into the world. Dva had continued the game they had all been playing before Tracer died, their party picking up after the terrible and well-done loss of their beloved rogue. ***Life did not return, but it grew forward. It bloomed again.***" — A Clock's Fading Chime

I ended up choosing this one because I hate it a little when I read it. Not because it's not good but because it's SO PAINFUL. I love so much about the way you talk about love, and I think grief is all a part of that. We grieve because we loved. The idea of the grief period, especially for those in a close circle of a lost person, being like the cycle of the seasons where a flower may die but life blossoms in the soil it left behind is so evocative and perfect and everything leading up to that last line is the soil for which that line got to bloom. The slow, simple way life returns to them, that they adjust to the heavy rock in their pack (A piece of yours I revisited for this and a metaphor I will always carry with me) and start growing stronger together. And that they find it WITH EACH OTHER too just god, it kills me. But would I rather wish it wasn't necessary? YUP. FOR SURE. It hurts to think about someone who plays Lena's role dying in our own lives and trying to mend the rift between those left behind. But it brings all those possibilities and who may have gone already before to mind because it feels so grounded in the reality of what these experiences are like and shit it's just a great sampling of everything I love about your work. Beautiful prose, saying so much with so little, grounded in stuff that feels read, and ending on a banger, transfixing line. ---- @thoughtfulfangirling 

(Thank you so much! I LOVED that whole series of fics around that, as it is in the way that I often like to toy with the nature of grief, and the way that we go on. Things aren’t ever the same, but we go on. And I’m so glad you gt into it too! It’s very self-indulgent for me, basically everything with OW, so I love when other poepl like it) 

4 point answers: 

Given that I am not Jewish, I hope this isn't overstepping my bounds, but your passover Seder speech really spoke to me this year. Specifically the bits about the relationship between cowardice and metaphorical bondage: 

"This is a celebration of our freedom from bondage, but it is a also a reminder, a call that we must ensure we do not, in cowardice, return ourselves to bondage. "

Without explaining too much, and risking the kind of parasocial oversharing that you lamented the other day in a post, this particular push and pull has been at the forefront of my mind this year. The intense gravity that the familiar, the easy, the safe, can have, versus the genuine terror of pressing out into the unknown in search of something better.

Trying to change, and to do better, and to press on, is fucking terrifying, and hard. But, that is not an excuse. And I appreciated the reminder.   --- @blastoise-m 

(Not overstepping at all! I am so glad that it speaks to you, I really, really love this kind of writing, and I really should get back to doing more of my Jewish writing. My rabbi is leaving, because we apparently don’t have the money to have a rabbi! And he’s readying people to be lay leaders, and called on me to be someone who could give Divrei Torah (sort of like our sermons) because of my tendency to do stuff like this, and it’s very scary! But really exciting as that’s the kind of stuff that had me interested in being a rabbi, is picking this stuff apart and applying it to our own lives HI YOU ASKED FOR NONE OF THIS SORRY) 

"There are no beautiful deaths in this world, and am sorry that you must know it. Rei never was allowed to say goodbye. I watched Haruka grow weaker and more ill every single day. We each have been jealous of the other, at turns, but I tell you this truth now: Our lives mean much more than our deaths. You and Seiya had a wonderful love story, and you raised a wonderful daughter, and unfortunately it is very often difficult to finish a story in a satisfying sort of way. It is not the end of your story, simply of hers. For you, it is a new chapter"

I think this is still one of my top 5 fav fics that you've ever written. I still think of it randomly once in a while. It's such a small moment but it sold me Usagi and Seiya in a way never would have expected. It's such a moment of growth for both Usagi and Muchiru. A small moment of connection for two people who are so different.

This is wrapped up in the entire MaS series, which I could never separate from this work let alone this quote. The entire series is a series about love and all its many permutations. About finding meaning in a world when you think your meaning has been taken away. About carrying on when you think there's no reason to do so. And I think this quote really encapsulates all of that. 

This story, this entire series, is one the favorite things I've ever read and I'm so glad that you decided to share it. --- @madegeeky

(I truly and in all ways love how much you love this fic, it cheers em and makes me so happy every time I am reminded of it. And thank you for loving that line! I FEEL that line. It’s been true for every death that has come to me, so I love when it has meaning for others. ) 

The 5 point answer:

"God separated the sky and the sea, and that’s true, but there will always be the horizon where they blend."

I'm not much of a quote person. I'll often remember the feeling or the takeaway but rarely the words themselves. This, though, has stuck with me.

There is so much in this world, and so many people, who see everything as absolutes. Black and white. Good or bad. Right or wrong. And as I've grown and changed, that has come to bother me more and more.

This quote is such an elegant and accessible way to express how that oh-so-common point of view is a fallacy. And really it's just a lovely line that invokes both lovely imagery and feeling. ---- @seolh

I FORGOT I WROTE THIS, and like the completely arrogant piece of shit I am, when I read it was I was like, “Oh fuck, that’s a solid line.” And yes I am with you on getting older and relizing that the horizon line can be so fuzzy out there, sometimes, and this quote WEIRDLY came back to me when I needed it, a lot, and so thank you! 

[specialmindz]

“PAPYRUS! PAPYRUS WHERE ARE YOU?”

BUBBH!           

“PAPYRUS!”

Sans poked the baby bones currently playing the bathtub. “hey uh, bro? i think dad wants you…”

“PAH-PYRUS!”

SPLASH SPLASH!

“WHAT YOU WANT STINK DADDY? I’S MAKING MOOSIC OVER HERE!”

The infant continued splashing in the tub, the bubbles floating gently through the air with each slap the water received. “UNDER DA’ SEA! UNDER DA’ SEEEA! DOWN HERE IT WETTER, DOWN HERE IT BETTER, TAKE IT FROM BAY-A-BEEEEE!”

CAP CAP CAP!

CA-THINK, WHAM!

“ugh! dad, you don’t have to slam open the door like that-”

“WHERE’S MY KEYBOARD, YOU LITTLE SHIT?”

SPLASH SPLASH!

“I don’t know what you’s talkin’ bout’. What is dis ‘key-board’ you speak of? Is a board game?”

“YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS! YOU USE IT WHEN YOU’RE USING MY COMPUTER! TELL ME WHERE IT IS THIS INSTANT!”

SPLASH!

Papyrus stopped. “Why you need it so bad? You’s a scientist, not a moosician! I’S the only one with musical talent round’ here! Listen to mah jams!”

SPLASH SPLASH!

“UNDER DA’ SEA-”

“THAT’S THE WRONG KIND OF KEYBOARD!”

“uh oh,” said Sans, studying the water. The surface of it was almost completely obscured by bubbles, but he had a good idea of what lay beneath. Papyrus normally didn’t even like bubbles, as they got in his eye sockets and made it hard to see where he was swimming, but today he actually asked for extra suds in order to create “special effects” for a “concert” he was performing.

It looked like Gaster had the same idea too, as a trademarked sigh of unmistakable misery escaped him.

Heh heh, it’s like watching a balloon slowly lose its will to live…

SPLASH SPLASH, SPLASH SPLASH!

“It’s under the water isn’t it?”

“Nyeh?”

“My keyboard. It’s underwater.”

Papyrus looked down at the water and then back up at his father. “I do bad Daddy?”

“Yes Papyrus, you’ve made a mistake...”

“I fuk up yo’ life?”

“Yes Papyrus, you’ve ‘fucked up my life,’ now give me my keyboard so I can repair it.”

“Mmm…no. No, I’s gonna fix it. I already has an idea, in fact! I can still make dis work.” Papyrus licked the water. “Yep. Daz the problem. That’s the problem right there. I got the suds, but the water not be salty enough. SNAS!”

“AHH! wh-what? what do ya’ want pap?” asked Sans, putting a hand against his skull.

“Well FIRST, I’d like you to pay attention,” said the baby. “We gots a situation over here and you’s dreaming bout’ eating Sabastian!” The infant pointed to a dead crab floating in the bath near his feet. It had CLEARLY been eaten a long time ago by someone else, probably a human seeing as Papyrus got all his stuff from the Dump, but apparently the shell was all he needed to play pretend.

“I needs you to search the Powder Place and finds the salt,” said Papyrus, now pointing at the bathroom cabinet.

The bathroom cabinet was where the family keep their cleaning supplies. Heavy-duty powder that was used to clean up serious messes regular soap couldn’t handle, pest control bottles that sprayed foul-smelling chemicals, and copious amounts of baby powder lined the floor of the cabinet. Some of the bottles and boxes were neatly arranged, but most of the supplies had been knocked over, their contents scattered everywhere due to a combination of missing lids and an unsupervised baby…at least that’s what Papyrus said.

His little brother didn’t like the Powder Place very much, and at one point he even tried to do something about it, admitting fully that he had once purposely spilled the contents of the baby powder in order to make the area smell like an infant rather than Catty’s litterbox room. It was Papyrus’s argument that cleaning supplies should never smell like fresh fruit.

“Be careful Snas, it may smell delicious in there, but erything be poison. Big people’s use it as a trick to kill off fat babies.”

“Don’t be absurd! That’s not even close to being correct.”

“Yes it is. Big people’s like their monies and a fat baby is a baby that eats alllll the time. Food costs money, so they buy poison that smell like food to get rid of the baby without legal con-see-quences.”

“That’s not true, who TOLD you that?”

“Dirt-Butt.”

“*Sigh*”

Of COURSE it was Dirt-Butt.

“Dirt-Butt” was ALWAYS saying nonsense, though it really didn’t bother Gaster as much as every other source of knowledge the infant found. He was usually relieved in fact. Papyrus was used to getting stereotypical info from the media, but the things Dirt-Butt told him more often than not, actually kept him out of trouble.

If only headaches weren’t still the norm…

 “NO DADDY, DON’T USE DA’ LECTRICAL HOLE! DIRT-BUTT SAY PICHU LIVE IN THERE!”

“…What?”

“dirt-butt told pappy that pikachus were electric mice who made their homes in electrical outlets,” explained Sans, playing a game on his phone.

“IS TOO! PIKACHU’S BABIES LIVE IN THERE! YOU’S GONNA POKE EM’ IN THE BUTT!” Papyrus covered the holes of the outlet with his hands, Determined to save his fellow infants. “Dirt-Butt says only big people can get poked in the butt, he also say-”

“Pikachus do NOT live or make their nests in electrical outlets.” Interrupted the scientist. “No one does.”

“Yes they do! Dat’s why the tricity gets used up. Pichu eat da’ power so they can gets big, is their nutrients!”  

Gaster shook his head. “No. The reason you don’t want to stick things in here is because you’ll be electrocuted. Dirt-Butt lied. You need to pay more attention to people when they’re talking Papyru-”

“You gets elly-cuted cause’ you piss off Pikachu.”

“Did you not hear me?”

“If you poke the babies, you gets zapped.”

“Papyrus.”

“I KNOWS MAH ANIMALS DADDY!”  

“SNAS, MORE SALT!”

“NO, do NOT put salt in your brother’s bathwater, it’s terrible for bones,” said Gaster reaching into the cabinet. He pulled out the salt, but was immediately met with a wet keyboard to the face.

CACK!

“PAPYRUS!”

“GIMME MAH SALT STINK DADDY! IS MINE!”

“No, it is NOT yours-”

“GIMME MY SALT OR I’S GONNA TELL UPON YOUUU!”

“You do that.”

“I WILL! I’ll tell upon you and you’s gonna get in trouble! I tells em’ you taked the salt and tried to make a baby stew…” said Papyrus smiling.

“Wh-”

“I’ll tell eryone you putted salt and carrots in mah bath and eryone will hate you. They’ll go ‘poor baby Pappy, he has such a bad wife, his daddy try to cook him for supper! We should ah-rest that bad guy and donate lossa monies to that baby’s fundraiser so their family can eats!”

“…What fundraiser?” asked the father, sensing trouble. He immediately regretted saying anything. In fact, he regretted it before the second word even came out of his mouth, but by then it was already too late.

“MY fundraiser. Baby Pappy’s Happy Nappies for Crap Bs!” Papyrus grinned and spread his arms out wide as if in celebration.

“’Crap B’s…?”

“Crap babies. Babies who not geniuses like me. Snas say, other baes not as fortunate as us, so I should be nice and share mah toys.”

“…”

“I don’t wanna do that, so instead I makes a fundraiser to get the inferior infants nappies!”

“Papyrus-”

“Nappies is diapers.”

“I know what nappies are,” said Gaster, already annoyed. Though the fundraiser’s name was enough to prove to Asgore that he wasn’t responsible for whatever came from his youngest’s latest money-making scheme, he still had to put an end to it. If he didn’t, he’d have the king’s citizens knocking at his door, and things were already getting bad in that regard.

More and more monsters had fallen ill from Hotland’s toxic fumes due to the fact that the Underground’s air filter lacked the power to operate and the more…unreasonable, individuals were getting upset. With the Lab being the closest medical building, the sick were often brought in and placed into the renovated Medical Ward. What was once mostly a living room was now a warehouse of beds, stretching almost from one end of the room to the other and lined with monsters of every variety.

Not that he was running out of room or anything.

The monsters there weren’t being cured, but rather drained of their magic to create magic crystals, a brilliant, if cold-hearted idea to be sure. This however, was necessary, though it had a severe consequence as it resulted in an increase of the Fallen; monsters who had lost too much magic and so had fallen into a comatose state. If the comatose had a chance of waking, he wouldn’t have dozens of family members banging on his door and flooding his email with questions, but sadly that wasn’t the case. Those that fell, fell to dust. There was no waking them…at least he didn’t THINK so…Gaster admittedly hadn’t bothered to experiment with that kind of thing yet.

I’m raising two children, keeping the oil reservoir under control AND a secret, trying to come up with a permanent solution to our power problem, logging the names and the number of incoming patients, making magic crystals, recording Papyrus’s progress, AND fixing HIS messes; I don’t have the TIME to meddle in monster mortality.

“uh, dad? papyrus just ran out the door giggling.”

“Wh-what?” Gaster looked about the bathroom to find that it was, indeed, missing a baby. “Why didn’t you stop him?!”

“he ran right past you, so i figured it was okay.”

“Papyrus by himself is NEVER okay, you should know that! Where did he go?” He poked his head out of the doorway and looked down the hall. A wet trail of baby tracks led into the darkness and he could just faintly hear the clacking sound of tiny bone feet getting farther and farther away.

“he said something about ‘customer satisfaction’ or…whatever. i wasn’t really paying attention-”

“GET OFF YOUR PHONE AND GO GET YOUR BROTHER!”

“*siiiiigh* FINE. PAPPY? WHERE YOU AT BABY BRO?”

“I SAID ‘GET’ NOT ‘YELL’ SANS!”

Lazy little…

“uuuughh!” Rolling his eyes, Sans shoved his phone back into the pocket of his hoodie and walked out the door. “PAPPYYYY! HEEERE PAPPY!”

“NYEH HEE HEE HEE!”

Wiping off his ruined keyboard, Gaster tucked it under his arm and followed his oldest.

He already knew where the little bastard was headed.

Earlier in the week, while he was sweeping dust off the beds, he had found a little white diaper under the covers. ALL of the beds that once held the Fallen, had them in fact. It was obvious that Papyrus was putting diapers on the comatose patients, but until today, he never knew why.

“…those aren’t babies pappy,” said Sans from far off.

“Course they are! Daz why they sweep so much. Cwap babies don’t do much Snas, they just eat, sweep, and doody in their diapies. Some of them pay wit toys, but-”

“PAPYRUS GET OUT OF THE MEDICAL WARD!”

Papyrus turned his head to look down the hall, then, waving at his daddy, he turned back around.

“PAPYRUS!”

“Shoosh, stink Daddy! You wake da’ babies!” The tiny skeleton looked at the fluffy, unconscious dog-monster. “So tell us, doody-dog…how satisfied are you wit mah pro-duct? From one to a hundred?”

“…”

Papyrus lifted the dog’s head, “Eleventy-six!” exclaimed the baby bones, “I’d definitely wear another! Mah only complaint is the lack of hole for my stupid dog tail-”

“*pfft!* pap-”

“THERE SHOULDN’T BE ANY COM-PAINTS!” yelled Papyrus into the dog’s face. “DIS A FUNDRAISER, YOU BE GATEFUL FOR WHAT YOU GET, SUCK-BABY!”      

“…”

“he’s not answering you bro.”

“Cwap babies not talk much Snas, but the result be clear. They satisfied…and now I must expand mah business!” cried Papyrus, raising a finger in the air. “TO WATERFALL!”

“huh?”

Using his wingdings, Papyrus picked himself up and placed his little body atop his brother’s skull, apparently expecting Sans to take him to his destination with haste.

He didn’t.

“pap, i don’t know what EXACTLY you’re trying to do, but it’s probably not a good idea; you’re naked and dad was-”

“TO WATERFALL SNAS!!” repeated the baby, louder this time. “TIME BE MONEY, HONEY!”

“don’t call me that.”

SPL-SPLASH!

Teleporting to Waterfall, the two brothers fell into the water near the docks, Papyrus slipping from his sibling’s head almost at once.  

“NYEHHHHAAH! WHY YOU PUT US IN DA’ WATER SNAS? THE FISHIES SEE MAH BUTT!” The infant covered his rear end with a tiny hand, using the other to grab hold of Sans’ hoodie.

“then you shoulda listened to me huh?” replied Sans, CLEARLY not sorry at all. “besides, you know i can’t control exactly where i show up!”

Just the area in general…

“DON’T LOOK AT MAH BUTT CWEEP FISH!”

TAP!

A strange tapping sound drew the older boy’s attention, and Sans turned his head to see old man Gerson walking along the docks, cane in hand, while the baby batted at the curious fish.

“What’s all the commotion over here?” asked the turtle, scratching under his chin. He looked a lot more ancient when he was in full view. Sans usually only saw him in his shop, as did everyone else. It was rare to find him wandering around, as Undyne had a habit of taking it upon herself to scavenge for supplies at the Dump and present it to him to selling. Because of her, he never really HAD to leave anymore.  

TAP, SHIFF!

The old man got closer and peered down at the two in the water, holding a magnifying glass to his eye. “Wahhaha, of course, of course it’s you, Papyrus. Giving your brother trouble I see!”

Does he bring that everywhere with him?

“it-it wasn’t pappy’s fault, i made a mistake,” said Sans quietly.

“Is that so? Well you two shouldn’t be bathing in the same place we water folk get our food, might get a taste for skeletons! Wahhahaha!” He laughed again, but the little Horror wasn’t as amused.

“DON’T EAT DA’ BABY!”

“we weren’t bathing…i just…took a wrong turn or something…”

“You weren’t? Then where are your brother’s clothes?”

“CTHULHU TOOK EM’! I seens it, wit my own widdle eyes, Wrinkle-Man!” said Papyrus, splashing in the water.

“Really? Well that’s just awful! Isn’t that awful Sans?”

“please don’t encourage him.”

“They must be pretty mean to do something like that; picking on a poor little cherub like you.”

“Yep, I’s a sad cher-chero-cherrio. A very sad cheerio Wrinkle-Man, baby’s don’t gots lots of monies ya’ know? How I supposed to buy new jammies wit no monies?”

“That IS an issue,” said Gerson warily, sensing an approaching problem. He turned to Sans, but the child only glared at him, his expression giving the answer to the old man’s unsaid plea.

You started this, now YOU can deal with it.

I’m not helping you.

“Ya’ know what would make this little cheerio happy again Wrinkle-Man?”

“cherub, pappy.”

“*Sigh*…What’s that?”

“If you would accept dis diapie.” The baby bones held up a soaked diaper, possibly getting it from out of Sans’ pocket.

“oh, that’s right, i didn’t check my pockets today.” He looked down at his clothes sadly. Whatever was in there today was probably ruined now by the water.

Papyrus tended to hide things in his brother’s hoodie.

Every once in a while, the kid comedian would reach into his pocket to find crayons, candy, a kaleidoscope, bouncy balls, a yo-yo, and sometimes even makeup in his pocket. They were fun little surprises that he enjoyed, like tiny gifts. They obviously belonged to his sibling, but liked Papyrus liked to say “what’s mine is yours,” so he considered them gifts.

The big treasures were his favorite, as they were rare and akin to getting surprise packages in the mail. He’d wake up in the morning and go to the place on the floor near the dresser where he always threw his hoodie and be excited to find a big lump covered by his clothing. A sign that his brother had hidden something neat.

You’d think he’d quit hiding things with it by now. He’s gotta know I’m stealing em’…

One time, Sans even found a skateboard hidden under it. He played with it a lot, and got pretty good, but when he started doing tricks, Papyrus became…unhappy. He remembered his baby brother screaming in terror and crying when he showed him a kickflip for the first and last time. He remembered feeling super guilty about it too. He only had 1 HP after all; if he fell, it was bye-bye big bro.

The skateboard now sat in a corner collecting dust, a sad reminder of what could have been.

“I don’t need a diaper yet kiddo!” said Gerson, slightly insulted.

“Sure, you do! All old peoples need diapies and all we asks in ass-change is dat you gives us a small donation.”  

“A small donation’ hm?”

“Yep, for just thirty-twelve G, you could have this super absorbent, long-lasting diaper. Yo’ donations go to the Happy Nappies Fundraiser where we will buy MORE diapies and gives them to the less fortunate.”

“…It sounds like you’re selling diapers for 3,012g, FAR more than they’re worth. That’s thirty-twelve right? 3,012g?”

“Correct. We uses the extra monies to buy more nappies.”

“That’s not a fundraiser young’un’, you’re supposed to be raising money for charity. If you’re selling these to the babies here in the Underground-”

“I not sell to babies, I GIVE to da’ baes!”

“…But their parents pay for them.”

“Yes.”

“That’s not a fundraiser, you’re ‘hustling’ as the kids say.”

“No! I not hustle, I BUSTLE! The fundraiser be for babies, THEY gets the diapies for free, not the big peoples.”

“you’re either not understanding bro, or you’re trying to cheat people.”

Probably the latter.  

“Daz not too. I buys diapies for the peoples who needs em’ and I use the rest to buy stuffs dat I need...like my jammies. Erybody wins.”

Papyrus attempted to climb out of the water and then, realizing his arms weren’t strong enough to pull him up onto the dock, he summoned his wingdings and placed himself onto the planks.

RATTLE RATTLE RATTLE!

“ugh, pap!” Sans covered his face as his tiny and inconsiderate sibling shook his body back and forth like the dogs in Snowdin, attempting to rid himself of the water.

“Wahahaha!”

SQISH!

THAP THAP THAP!

The infant squeezed the diaper in his hands and whipped it in the air, sending beads of water every which way. He knew it would probably not be the most absorbent product he ever sold, but perhaps the old monster would still want it for catching doodies…?

“bro, that diaper’s ruined, you’re not going to be able to sell it. look, it’s torn…”

“Nyeh?” Papyrus looked at the nappy in his hand. It seemed fine just a minute ago, but now it was all stretched out and worse yet, the sticky parts that were meant to hold the diaper in place wouldn’t stick anymore. He tried several times to get them to, but the front kept falling open.

Sans was right.

His product was ruined.

“NYEHHHHHAAHHHH! SNAAAAAAAS!”

“*sigh*”

“MY DIAPIE BE BOKEN SNAS! NYEH-HAAAHHHH!!!”

Sans got out of the water and picked up his baby brother. “don’t cry pappy,” he said, bouncing him up and down in his arms. “it’ll be okay.” He patted him on the back, but the baby bones refused to stop crying, still clutching the diaper in his little hand.

“Oh dear…hmm…tell you what,” said Gerson, pulling a wallet out of his shirt pocket. “I’ll buy your nappy at 2,000g, since it’s damaged. A young’un’ needs a pair of clothes, right?”

“our dad didn’t sell his clothes if that’s what you’re-”

“Shu up Snas, YES PWEASE MR. WRINKLE-GUY!” yelled Papyrus, suddenly all smiles. “I WOULD VERY MUCH AH-PEA-CIATE THAT!”

“PAPYRUS!”

“WAHHAHAHAHA!” laughing loudly, the tortoise-monster gave him the money. “Looks like this old man’s been outmaneuvered in marketing! I better watch out!”

“Nyeh hee hee hee!”

“…”

“Oh, don’t look so glum, my boy. Your brother needs this practice in order to protect you in the future! He’s gonna be quite the young warrior, isn’t that right Papyrus?”

“…There will be war.”

“WAHHAHAHAHA!” Mr. Gerson laughed again and walked back towards his shop. He tended to laugh a lot when Papyrus was present, though seeing him also made the elderly monster a bit sad too.  

Sometimes I miss the old days when a lot of these little guys were around…

Maybe one day, nature will fix our past mistakes. I just hope it doesn’t need help…or that it’s not too late.

TAP, SHIFF!

TAP, SHIFF!

“…that wasn’t very nice bro.”

“The business world is a harsh one, Snas,” said Papyrus, counting his G. “You needs to pactice too big Buther. One day, you’s gonna need to help da’ baby, ya’ know? Is sad dat you has no monies of your own. Just cause’ you gots 1 hp, don’t mean you’s useless. You gots a brilliant mind, put it to good use.”

“i don’t need life advice from a crook.”

“Kay’ when you gets a life, come see da’ baby.”

“i HAVE a life, you little asshole! it’s just isn’t a life of crime.”

“No crime no dime, big Buther. Sometimes you gots to break the rules to get da’ jewels! Tell Daddy he either pay you for help, or he pay fines for child labor.”

“that’s blackmail.”

“Is genius is what it is.”

Sans chuckled and put the money in his hoodie. “why would you need my help bro? unemployed monsters down here are a dime-a-dozen!”

“…”

“all jewel need to do is lie and they’ll help you out. i don’t need to do anything, heh heh…”    

“…You needs to pactice yo’ font too.”

“fine-”

“SOMEWHERE AWAY FROM DA’ BABY!” yelled Papyrus, kicking his legs.

“i can’t leave you here, child abandonment is a crime-”

“DAZ NOT EVEN A PUN!”

“besides, crawling all the way home would be a bit labor-ious, wouldn’t it?”

“IIIII HATE CHUUUUUU!!”

CAP, CAP!

CAP, CAP!

Oh crap, someone else is coming. I need to get Pappy back in some clothes or-

“HEY! NO BATHING IN THE FOOD SUPPLY, IT’S ILLEGAL!” cried a shrill voice Sans knew all too well. Startled, he dropped his brother in surprise, but luckily the infant didn’t seem to care.

“HELLWOE FISH-LADY!” Papyrus threw up his arm in greeting. “DA’ WRINKLE-MAN JUST LEFT!” The baby pointed towards Snowdin.

“He was just here?”

“yeah, he headed back to his stall a few seconds ago,” replied Sans, glaring at his brother. “while you were…underwater. why were you underwater? this is the breeding area…”

“Right, I was talking to the fish. Gotta make sure no one’s stealing them, so everyone can keep eating-”

“Fish Lady’s growing an army to fight the homos!” said Papyrus excitedly.

“SSHH!! Shut the fuck up Papyrus!” whispered Undyne harshly.

“homosapiens baby bro, you have to say the whole thing or…you know what? just say humans, kay’?”

“Homo humans!”

“…not better. also, are you talking about actual fish, undyne or water monsters?”

“WHO CARES?” yelled the young girl. “THE MORE SOLDIERS THE BETTER!” She grinned proudly, her hands on her hips. No one would expect an attack from the water AND the land, the next war against humans was as good as won.

That is, if no adults found out about it. They didn’t appreciate Undyne’s ingenious war strategies like Papyrus did.

No matter how helpful or cool they were, adults always seemed to have a problem with her ideas, and unfortunately, Sans and Gaster were no different. For most of them to work, she needed science nerds, but they saw her plans the same way they saw Papyrus’s, terrible and “asinine.”

The Royal Scientist’s words, not hers.

She didn’t know what “asinine” meant, but it had the word “ass” in it, so she assumed their father was calling her ideas booty.

My ideas aren’t ass!

My ideas are GREAT!

Stupid, crappy, science dweeb, is just lazy. How hard can it be to build a giant robot? Isn’t there already someone asking him to do that already?

“…A giant robot can destroy entire towns, I saw it in a movie.”

“what are you talking about? are you still on about that robot army?” Sans sighed, a trademark sign of his that meant he thought she was being stupid. Undyne had heard it many times before.

“IT’S A GOOD IDEA!!” she screamed. “AND IT WASN’T AN ARMY, IT WAS JUST O-”  

“for the last time, if you saw something already done in a movie undyne, the humans know how to COUNTER it; they make the friggen’ things!”

Undyne’s so dumb…

“Yeah, but the movies are old, Sans! They’re in the Dump, because no one watches them anymore! We’ll have the element of surprise.”

“I wish to pilot a Gundam, big Buther.”

“SEE?! Papyrus wants it!” she said, pointing at the baby bones. “You want to blow up a town widdle Pappy?”

The infant smiled and bounced up and down on his rear end excitedly. “Yeah yeah yeah!” he said, ignoring his sibling’s frown. “I’s Middle Eastern ya’ know…is mah calling.”

“still don’t know what middle ease is, pap.”

“Middle East Snas! It mean I comes from da’ center of the earth…only is a liiiittle East.” The infant pinched his fingers together, squinting with one eye to make sure there was space between them, hoping he had solved the mystery.

“The center of the earth…?” Undyne looked confused. “You mean Hell?”

“i’d believe that.”

“Noooo! I’s on the WOOF of Hell…cept’ is a liiittle East.”

“Yeast…isn’t that the stuff bread is made from?”

“he’s saying east, undyne. it’s a direction.” Sans pointed towards where he knew the Lab was located.

“…That’s left, Sans-I MEAN RIGHT! That’s your right.”

“NYEH HEE HEE HEE!”

“SHUT UP PAPYRUS, I WASN’T WRONG!”

“you are.”

“YOU SHUT UP TOO!!”    

“how old are you?”

“YOU CAN’T ASK ME THAT! I’M A WOMAN, IT’S ILLEGAL!”

“Is you a baby like me, Fish Lady? If so, I gots a great product for you…”

“I’m NOT a baby, I’M GROWN!” Undyne stomped her foot angrily on the planks of the pier, scaring Sans a little. He had no idea how long those timbers had been there, but he knew people walked on them every day. Eventually, they would break and need to be replaced…probably by the pines in Snowdin.

There are some people who use them for firewood too though, I know Grillby does. What if we run out? How long does it take a pine tree to grow?

…

Who planted them there to begin with?

“Nyeh? You spacing again, big Buther?”

It was something he thought of often whenever he was bored, and he highly doubted it was the monsters doing.

“Come back down from space, Snas!”

No one knew what the inside of Mt. Ebott was like, which is why everyone in the beginning not only scrambled for a home as soon as possible, but also refused to leave it behind for something better. It didn’t make sense to begin with for the monsters to carry saplings with them into a mountain with little to no sunlight. Even if the sunlamps in Snowdin had been immediately installed, it would’ve taken time. Could the trees survive that long without the sun? Why were they all pine trees to begin with? If the monsters came from different environments all over the world, wouldn’t some have brought cacti, palm trees, and other tropical plants?

It’s like someone made preparations for us to live here…

“EARTH TO THE SNAS!”

“AH!”

“Stop daydreaming and tell da’ Fish Lady how great mah fundraiser be! She doesn’t want to buy my diapies…” said Papyrus quietly.

“Why are you naked?”

“s-sorry bro, i was thinking about the trees. how come there’s only pine trees and fruit trees in the underground?”

“Nyeh?”

Why was his brother always thinking about trees?

“There’s a fern in the Resort Area,” said Undyne, hoping to change the subject. She’d rather talk about plants than diapers.

“why though? who was the guy who went ‘hey, yeah, i know i’m being ushered out of my home with little to no warning and should prooobably pack everything i think will be needed to maintain my survival-”

“But this fern doh…” The young girl laughed, imagining the scenario. “I gotta take this fern, man!”

“*pfft!* c’mon undyne, for real-”

“FERNS BEFORE FOOD! FERNS BEFORE FAMILY!”

“NYEH HEE HEE HEE HEE!”  

“AND THESE FLOWERS, DUDE! I NEED THESE GOLDEN FLOWERS IN MY LIFE!”

Sans laughed in spite of himself as his baby brother let out a high-pitched screech of delight. As curious as he and it was, the comedian had to admit it was also pretty funny.

I guess back then, people didn’t have to worry so much about survival as they do now. They probably weren’t expecting things to be so hard down here.

It’s good that kids like us don’t have to worry about that sort of thing…most of us anyway.

Dad’s a douche, but our generation depends on him and he’s doing his best to deliver. Without him, the Underground would be doomed.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he was one of the worrying kids. The future frightened him; his father frightened him.

One of the perks of being invisible, aside from whenever the Royal Scientist needed him, was that Sans could go anywhere and do anything he pleased when off the clock. He knew about the Fallen and what his father was doing before Flowey even appeared to tell him, and he was willing to bet his brother did too.

Papyrus didn’t mess with the draining machine.

Sans noticed he didn’t talk about it either. There were no questions, no threats, no mentions whatsoever. In fact, these days Papyrus seemed to mellow out a bit in general, his pranks becoming fewer and fewer in number until the labs horrendous reputation began to fade. The baby bones had even gone out to recruit other bright minds to help in the lab, no doubt sensing his father’s incoming mental collapse.

Despite how serious their power problem was, the truth remained that they HAD oil. It was dangerous to use, but it was a choice Gaster had other than draining that he didn’t favor. He CHOSE murder, their father CHOSE to drain sick monsters who came to him for help, and showed absolutely no remorse or concern for his actions.

Not good.        

“Does Onion-chan gots ferns?”

“huh?”

“It’s Onionsan, Pappy. You’re spelling it wrong, and yes, those are ferns.”

“oh, you’re still talking about ferns…who’s onionsan?” asked Sans. He didn’t know much about the monsters that lived underwater, but apparently no citizen was safe from his little bro. He hoped he hadn’t caused too much trouble…

“Onionsan-chan be a monster from Japan, man!” replied the infant, enjoying his tongue twister. “I doesn’t know how he got here dough…”

“OnionSAN, Papyrus-”

“They too big for mah diapies, so we not visit the tentacles today.”

“what?”

“Onionsan is a monster that looks like an octopus. I’ve never heard of Japan though.”

“Is where the woah-bots come from, Fish Lady! Da’ Vocaloid and the Gundams and the aira-planes…”

“airplanes aren’t robot birds baby bro,” said Sans smiling.

“Nyeh? No bird? Tsundereplane lie…?”

“huh?”

This alarmed Sans. Papyrus was behaving himself more in the lab, but that meant he was spending most of his time outside where it was dangerous.

Who’s Tsundereplane? How many people is he talking to?!

“you know what? it doesn’t matter. stop talking to strangers papyrus, it’s dang-PAPYRUS!”

BEEP BEEP!

Taking Sans’ phone out of his pocket via wingdings, Papyrus called his “friend” on speed dial.

“Hellwoe?”

“papyrus, stop!”

Who the hell gave him their number?! How long has that been in my phone?!  

“Yep, is da’ baby…”

“hang up, papyrus. whoever gave you their number isn’t a sane person-”

“Snas say you’s not a whoa-bot bird Tsundereplane. Why you lie to cute widdle me?”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“WELL SCU YOU TOO, STINK ARROW-PLANE! I BEAT YO’ ASS!”  

BEEP!

“…”

“…Tsundereplane not my friend no more.”

“Aww…poor Pappy…” Undyne patted the infant’s skull.

“don’t feel sorry for him! that’s what he gets for talking to strangers, maybe next time he’ll think before putting numbers in MY phone!”

“Yep, woe is me Fish Lady…”

“are you even listening to me?”

“…First they steals mah jammies and now they lie and call me an idiot-face. I am the saddest of cheerios…”

“THEY STOLE YOUR CLOTHES?!”

“you little shit.”

“STEALING’S ILLEGAL! Don’t worry Pappy, THE UNSTOPPABLE UNDYNE WILL GET YOUR CLOTHES BACK!”

“he’s lying undyne-”

Sans reached out to stop her, but Undyne was already off towards Hotland.

Damnit!

There’s no way he’d catch her, he didn’t even know who or where Tsundereplane was.

I don’t even know what they LOOK like…an airplane probably, but…

“Nyeh hee hee hee!”

“*humph!* i bet you’re pretty proud of yourself, huh baby bro?”

“Yes.”

“you think you did the right thing?”

“Yes.”

“what do you think’s gonna happen when undyne finds out you were lying?”

“She gonna come back and do the accu-sa-tions and Imma say ‘they throw my jammies in da’ lava?’ then I’s gonna cry reeeal loud, and she gonna feel sorry for me.”

“…”

“She’ll say, ‘aww, I didn’t think of that! Poor baby Pappy…I should go out and buy you NEW jammies!’ and then I say, ‘no, no, you’s done enough.”

“…is that right?”

“Yep. I say, “Just gives me some monies and I go gets em’. Shopping be boring.’ Then she gonna go ‘you’s right! Shopping IS boring. Here are some monies…and a widdle extra for the accu-sa-tions.”

“…”

“That’s when I be reeeal nice and say ‘keep da’ extra, you deserves it for being a good friend to da’ baby.’ Then I buys candy and I eats it, then we all live happy ever after.”

“…i’m calling undyne.”

“WHY YOU GOTS TO DESTROY MY HAPPY AFTER?”

BEEP BEEP BEEP!

“I’M NOT SELLING YOU NOTHIIIIINN’!!!” screamed Papyrus, “NYEH!” Snatching his brother’s phone, the baby bones took off running towards Snowdin.

“PAPYRUS! PAPYRUS, NO!”

“NYEH HEE HEE HEE HEE!”

“DO NOT GO INTO TOWN NAKED, PAPYRUS!”

Friggin’ dumbass! There’re dogs everywhere there, he can’t be showing that many bones, he’ll get eaten!

Or they would.

Probably the dogs.

Either way, Sans knew who would ultimately be blamed.

“GOOD LUCK FINDING ME IN DA’ SNOW BIG BUTHER!”

“ugh, shit!”

POOF!

With an enthusiastic smile, Papyrus leapt into a snow poff as soon as his sibling lost sight of him. There was no way Sans would find a tiny white skeleton in a snowfield. It would be like finding a needle in a haystack…whatever a haystack was.

Finally, his Michael Jackson syndrome was paying off.

“Nyeh? *sniff sniff*”

That was odd. The snow poff he was in smelled like doody. Well, actually, the whole town smelled like a barnyard, but this was especially bad…

“*huff puff* pa-papyrus…”

“…”

“papyrus, i know you’re in there, your tracks lead right to the snow poff field!”

“…Those could be anybody’s tracks, there’s no baby here, skelly-man.”

“really? heh heh, well that’s weird. most people who live in snowdin avoid the snow poffs.”

“…I had to move cause’ I missed my rent. This my home now.”

Sans laughed; his brother had no idea. “woooow, that sucks. i’d personally hate to live in a poop-igloo, but you do you man, ha ha ha!”

“What?” Papyrus poked his head out of the snow poff and looked down.

“yep. the reason the snow is built up in this area and nowhere else, is because this is where people dump their chamber pots.”

“…”

“the snow tends to build on top of the droppings and that’s what makes these little mounds, cool huh?”

“…”

“asgore is trying to get plumbing up and running, but it’ll be a while before THAT happens, what with the power issue and all. personally? i don’t see it happening. people make money gathering these snow poffs up to sell for fertilizer.”

Without saying a word, Papyrus climbed out of the snow poff and walked towards the Ruins. It was the longest route to a river, but at least it didn’t cut through town.

“papyrus?”

“Shut up.”

“aww, what’s wrong pappy? paaappyyyy-”

SPLASH!

The baby bones jumped into the river, using his wingdings to hold himself steady in order to keep from being swept away by the current.

“…”

“oh no, pappy! you can’t just hop into the river, the fishies will see your butt!”

“…”

“you know what you need to catch those doodies? what every baby needs?”

“Choke on bread.”

“a dia-”

SPLASH!  

“heh.”

[mommymooze]

Bob

Bob-Original Character. 

Warning: Crack (yes, I found crack!) vulgar, violent, bad humor, toasty cinnamonrolls Hubert abuse

Part 1

He confidently strides around the grounds of the Monastery like he owns the place. Noone dares to tell him he doesn’t.  He’s always been curious, his quest for knowledge knows no bounds. That Riegan kid? An amateur next to him. The poisons and potions that boy comes up with? He made those before he was 9. Riegan is always bragging about Lysithia. Youngest girl to graduate from the School of Sorcery, she is such a prodigy, bla, bla, bla. He had graduated before his 10th birthday. His graduating thesis rewrote the book on transmogrification.

He doesn’t care for Claude practically sticking his tongue in Professor Byleth’s ear at every turn. Okay, so the doof hasn’t quite done that, but he can see that the guy really ‘breathily’ speaks in her ear, so he may as well be. Bob is not jealous. Byleth doesn’t interest him. Not in that way. He knows she’s the best choice for Professor for the Blue Lions. Golden Deer are too chaotic and disorganized. The Black Eagles are practically run by the Agarthans, unfortunately those idiots can’t see it. Besides, its easier to ‘fit in’ with the people of his ‘land’.  He’s a noble, in the loosest sense of the word.

His fellow Blue Lions will follow Dimitri to hell and back. Little do they know that Dimitri already has one foot in hell. The guy is nuts. The things he talks about in his sleep, well, Bob’s seen people like that before.  They have endured some really heavy shit and trauma. Usually it’s a one-way trip. Dimitri’s hanging on by a thin frayed thread and only Dedue is keeping him grounded. Looks like Professor Byleth is picking up on it. Saving Dedue’s life was the best thing that ever happened to Dimitri.

Now Sylvain, he got a rotten deal handed to him. Don’t blame him for his coping mechanism of getting back at the girls that are after him for his goods and not him. A bit self-destructive, but he does kind of enjoy it, until it goes south. Step in Ingrid, to save him. She’s such a knight in shining armor, rescuing princess Sylvain every time. Felix, he needs a complete emotional enema. He’s been blocked up since his brother died. His father’s been blocked up since his wife died. Felix locked down all of his feelings and emotions only letting out anger and hatred. Any time he has a feeling related to kindness or love, he beats it out of himself by training to death. Ashe, there is a sweet young man. A cinnamon roll through and through. He’s been through tough times and better times. You just can’t let harm come to a freaking ray of sunshine like him. Annette is definitely in the cinnamon rolls covered in sunshine category as well, even though her conception sperm donor is a dick. Daddy Gustav, ugh, Duscur screwed him in the head too. ‘I failed as a knight. I couldn’t protect them.’ So you dump your family, stick your thumb in your ass and watch Dimitri fall apart? Really? Yeah he super sucks as a father type thing. Mercedes is a fun girl. She’s seen some shit, yet she is so motherly to all the Lions. She is not one to give up, even on her loser psycho brother.  

Bob is a model student. He watches the idiotic pranks that Sylvain pulls.  Fart jokes? That is third grade stuff. They have the big mock battle between the classes in a few weeks. Bob catches the redhead getting turned down by Felix when he invites his bff to town to check out some girls. Bob just happens to be near the door when Sylvain exits.

“Hey man, heard you may be heading to town. Need a wingman?” Bob offers.

“Only if you buy the first round.” Sylvain grins.

They head out the front gates to the town on the other side of the woods. Talking about their favorite types of girls, Sylvain is ready to hit up anything in a skirt by the time they hit the closest drinking establishment. Half an ale gone and the redhead has found a couple of prospective tarts ready to take a bite out of.  Bob takes a seat next to a young brunette cleric who shyly smiles as he sits. They chatter amicably, before the evening is over, he knows of her family, history, deity (not Sothis, gasp) how long she has done this, life’s dreams, battle experience, her strongest spells, affinities, favorite foods, shoe size and her birthday. Sylvain returns to the tavern a bit disheveled and a grin from ear to ear.  Bob bids his little friend good night. Once he is finished suffering through the heavily detailed victorious encounter that the handsome cavalier has just experienced, Bob changes direction of the conversation to the redhead himself.

“Dude, why do you act like such a fuckup? Felix hits it right on the nose every time and you just crumble. You are much smarter than you lead everyone to believe. You hold back on your magic. You can handle a lance like nobody’s business. If you practiced some, get your speed up, you’d be deadly. What’s the deal?” Bob doesn’t exactly hold back.

“Look,” Sylvain whines, “I know I’m a fuckup. My father has my life lined up for me. He’ll pick out who I marry, I’m stuck watching over the Gautier territory, making crestbabies to grow up and wield the Lance of Ruin. My brother was fucked over by my father for not having a crest. I had to go out and kill him. My own brother. My whole life is so messed up, why should I even try?”

Bob leans over and whispers into the redhead’s ear. “Man, the winds of change are coming. This whole godessdamned world is going to be flipped upside down. Just when you think it can’t get any worse it does. It’s gonna be a mess. Then one day, there’s going to be a light in that darkness, and the world is tilted again. All the slates are going to be wiped clean and I intend on being there to rewrite it all. I just want you to come along for the ride, dude.”

Sylvain looks at Bob like he’s got two heads. “How much did you have to drink while I was gone? That is some crazy heavy shit. Whatever it was, you gotta buy me some next time.” He laughs as they get back to the monastery gates.

------------------

Bob quickly becomes bored with the highly censored library in the monastery and decides to find where the one is in Abyss. Besides, he hates the skinwalker librarian. The creep likes to hand out anti church of Seiros paraphernalia to anyone that would take one. Bob knew of Abyss long before he had ever arrived. He found out more information about Garreg Mach on the outside than on the inside. Once you go past the front gate, the church folks zip their lips shut. He sneaks around a few tunnels, keeping his eyes peeled for anyone nearby. Noting some footsteps slowly moving closer, he blends in with the walls. Two girls walk past, he’s just about to let them keep going, but he recognizes one of them.

“Hapi?” Bob softly gasps.

“Dipshit! Long time no see, jerk!” Hapi runs over and hugs him.

The taller blonde girl stands, waiting for a proper introduction.

“Oh, Coco, this is my friend, Dipshit. He helped get me out of the terrible place where, you know, those guys were.” Hapi says.

The noble woman offers her hand, “Constance Von Nuvelle.  I am temporarily living here, however I strive to restore House Nuvelle to its finest glory.

Bob takes her hand, kissing the back of it, “I am very honored to make your acquaintance. How fortunate to meet such a beautiful woman as yourself in such an interesting location.”

Constance Nuvelle giggles at his introduction. Bob is all OMG she is so CUTE.

Hapi gives him the stink-eye “Aaanyyway, we should prolly take you to meet Yuribird. He’s the boss around here. “

So they meander over to the class room and meet Yuri. Tall, beautiful, with an air of mystery for kicks, Yuri greets the newcomer. “Any friend of Hapi’s is welcome.”

Bob explains his presence. “I’m not here to get in your business. Just wanted to check out your library. If I find anything useful to you, I know where to go with it. Mostly I am interested in all the crap that is going on topside.”

Yuri walks with him to the place where Seteth’s banished books have been stored. Bob tears into it like a man starved. Feeding on everything he can get his hands on.

Yuri decides to be sociable for a moment. “Whatcha looking for friend?”

Bob “the usual. Nabatheans, Agarthans, saints, Nemesis, relics, bloodlines, histories that may be a little closer to the truth than what they have upstairs. “

Yuri nods. “Sure. Have at it.”

“I’ll let you know if I find anything about the Crest of Aubin or the rest of you guys.” Bob offhandedly remarks looking through a few books.

Yuri starts cleaning under his nails with a particularly sharp dagger. “Funny, no one mentioned Crests, much less if anyone has one.”

“I can smell ‘em.” Bob says indifferently. “One of their experiments gone haywire. Hapi and I did time together. Ask her, she’s where I got my crest.”

“Have fun.” Yuri quips before heading out, stashing his dagger.

Bob is devouring this library. Opens every single book on every single shelf. Divides them into piles. Church, Magic, research, Agarthans, useful, and crap.

Encyclopedia of Fodlan’s Insects. Insects is what the Agarthans call Nabatheans. Winged bugs that need squashing. It also describes items forbidden by the church. These of course are things the Agarthans have used for centuries. Telescopes, viewing lenses, metal printing presses, decent condoms. Bob laughs out loud at the section on autopsies. Wouldn’t want you poking around inside someone’s head or chest. May accidentally find a crest stone or worse rattling around in there. Bob finishes sorting the upper levels of the Shadow Library. He hands a few books to Yuri to peruse, telling him to hang on to them, Bob would like a close look when he is done. Bob shuffles off with armful after armful of books, taking them to a quiet little nook that Yuri has permitted for him. Not much bigger than a closet, but its enough room to keep the books secure. Just as he’s on his last trips, who should happen to arrive at the library but Hubert von Vestra.

“Hey Bro, what the fuck you doin’ down here?” Bob impolitely and arrogantly asks.

“You. Why don’t you crawl back under your rock.” Hubert curses.

“Surprised to see you standing up. Usually you’re on all fours licking her high and mightynesses boots.” Bob shakes his head, getting his black and white bangs out of his eyes.

“Lady Edelgard deserves all of my praise and loyalty for everything she has been through. House Vestra shall always be at her service.” Hubert stiffly replies.

“Yeah, how’s that working out for you. She hasn’t been through half the shit I’ve been through. She’s barely holding it together. What’s fucking hilarious is she’s relying on you to help her keep it together. You still haven’t gotten over killing father. You should’ve let me know. I’d’ve done it in a heartbeat. Can’t wait till I can slit my beautiful mother’s throat and listen to her gurgling as the life flows from her.”

“He denounced you. You are not a Vestra.” The Black Eagle spits out.

Bob puts his hands on his hips. “Gimme a break. You and I are cut from the same mold. Same greasy black hair, at least I take care of mine. Same strong chin, handsome cheek bones, body structure. Hell we have the same color eyes from father. Just because I’m your half bro doesn’t mean I’m not part of your family. We’re both drawn to black and dark magic. We wield spells far above our fellow students. Just think of the things we could do together. “

“No. You are crude, undignified, unprodigious, and disgusting inside as well as out.” Hubert spits.

“We’re twins! I’m just the better looking one. Just ask anyone. You stand around like a starving vulture ready to pounce on everyone. Always looming and leering. That creepy guy intimidation thing only gets you so far. You need to work on your charm.” Bob schmoozes, moving closer to his half brother.

“I’ve had enough of this.” Hubert gives a disgusted frown and warps away.

“I love dicking with him. Fucking dickwad.” Bob laughs a deep and frightening laugh that scares some female out in the hallway who screams and runs away.

----------------------------

When Flayne goes missing, Bob becomes unhappy. She’s a sweet and innocent girl. Yeah, she’s got dragon blood and all that, but really she’s nice. Cinnamon roll nice. Too nice to be caught up in any Agarthan mess. And this kidnapping has Agarthan written all over it.

Bob shows up behind Hubert, smashing his face into a wall and nicking his half bro’s throat as he puts a dagger under his chin. “Tell her to call the Agarthan dogs back. Tell her how wrong it is to work with them. They are not your friends. The enemy of your enemy crap doesn’t work. They are only using you, not the other way around”

Hubert, bloody nosed from having it smashed into a wall mutters, “I will bring it up in our next conversation.”

“Yeah. Talk about it. All talk, no action.” Bob disappears through the wall. He materializes in the library behind Ashe.

“Ashe, take off your baseball cap.” The cool dark mage orders.

The grey haired cinnamon roll takes off his hat and sits very straight in the comfy chair in the library. He can feel the hand patting his head, then stroking his hair from the top of his head down to his neck.

“Good boy, you are a good boy Ashe.” Bob begins his mantra, praising and patting.

“Yes. I am a good boy.” Ashe repeats, closing his eyes.

Thirty minutes later Ashe is happily asleep curled up in the chair and Bob no longer has steam coming out of his ears. Bob looks around the library. Where is that Thomas creep anyway? Bob goes to the upper levels where Thomas’ desk is located. Pinned to the bulletin board is a cartoon of Rhea tied to a stake while they light a huge fire under her. A poster in Medieval script saying “Dragons must Die!!!” A stack of love poems devoted to Catherine, his forbidden love.  And a large, oversized rubber stamp that says “DENIED”. But no sign of Thomas. Bob decides to pay the gatekeeper a visit. He floats down the three flights of stairs to the main level. Not only because it is cool if you can float, but he also won’t trip over one of Claude’s 17 pairs of roller-skates he leaves everywhere, especially on stairs.

“Greetings Bob, nothing to report.” The gatekeeper happily greets the black and white haired mage, cheerfully looking up into his piercing citrine eyes.

“Hey Keeps, you ever see the librarian head out of these gates?” Bob asks him in a deep, sultry voice.

“Oh yeah, I guess he left almost a week ago. I bet he’s going out to chase down some overdue books. Had a large empty sack on his shoulder.” Gatekeeper smiles ever so widely, a blush to his cheeks as he stares deeper into Bob’s eyes.

Caspar overhears the conversation, gasps, and runs straight to Linhardt’s room to save his best friend from being sentenced to death for his lack of library returns.

Bob returns to his room for the night to ponder the mysteries of the universe, Flayn’s location, why does Felix do that thing with his hair, and why does Dimitri find Alois’ jokes funny? They suck so bad. Is it the madness?

-----------

Breakfast with the Blue Lions is enlightening. There are rumors of some sort of dude that dresses up like the grim reaper, complete with scythe that is creeping out the people in the village. Just one more thing to add to the list of the weird crap that is going on around this place. As he walks across the courtyard, some guy from the kitchen bumps into him.

“Hey, watch it, bud.” Bob giving the guy the eye.

Kitchen guy stops him. ”Have you seen Manuela?” he asks as blood is dripping down his arm.

Bob holds his hands out like he is holding two invisible watermelons to his chest, “Really big…?”

The guy nods.

Bob smirks, “Never heard of her. What were you doing?” Bob curiously asks.

“Peeling potatoes. Knife slipped.” Kitchen guy says, not looking so good. Bob knows to avoid potatoes for dinner.

“Head for the training grounds, healers are always hanging out there for practice opportunities.” Bob says before heading to the stable area.  Just as he walks past the Knights quarters, he hears a shriek in a perfect “C”. Probably Manuela. Just before he goes inside he stops a guy standing out front telling him to get the Blue Lions. You know, the group with the really tall hot blonde guy? Yeah, those Blue Lions.

The mage runs down the hall and finds a door partially open. He pushes it the rest of the way to find Manuela lying on the floor. She’s reaching out for something by the wall, as Bob gets closer he can smell them, Agarthans. He feels around and there’s a secret passage that opens wide to show a path down to the stink. The dark mage heads straight down the hole, lighting every torch on the way to guide the rest of his house. The Professor arrives at the bottom of the stairs to find all of the enemies in the immediate area are on fire. Bob is currently hurling fire spells through the gate at the enemies in the next room. “Die motherfuckers!! MUahahahahahahaha! Eat this!” Bob screams as he throws another fireball at one of the guys in the next room who tries to hide as far in a corner as possible, but still winds up having his robes catch fire and he screams in agony.

Byleth places her hand on Bob’s shoulder, whispering in his ear. “Calm down dude, you’re frightening the kids. Don’t scar our cinnamonrolls.”

Bob pulls a fist in front of his mouth. “Oopsie. Sorry. Was over excited. ::cough cough::”

The Blue Lions take over from here. Ashe unlocks the door as Felix and Sylvain rush in followed by Dedue and Ingrid. The professor heads to the left to unlock another gate.

Bob reaches over to pat Ashe on the head. “Good boy, you are such a good boy.”

Ashe smiles as his eyes glaze the slightest bit.

They move forward quickly wiping out the soldiers that are nearby. Felix and Sylvain take some warp tiles that send them to various places in the area where they can deactivate trap tiles. They all are joined together at the door in front of the death knight. Ashe opens the door. Bob’s already materialized in the room and hitting the big masked dude on the horsie with Dark Spikes T when the Flame Emperor shows up to send horsie boy off.

Flame Emperor “Go home Creepy McCreepface, you done good. I am the Flame Emperor. I will reforge the world.” And with that they both warp off.

Professor “We need to get these kids out of here.”

Bob, “I’ll grab Flayne, leave that other one, it smells bad.”  He tosses Flayne over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Bob carries her all the way to the infirmary. When putting her on a cot, he notices that her shirt sleeves were sliced open to her armpits and there are multiple holes in her arms where the evil bloodsuckers have taken her blood multiple times. He whispers to Manuela that the girl is a few quarts low, then he leaves.

Bob heads straight to Hubert’s room. His half brother isn’t there, so he waits for him to show up. So he’s not too bored, he goes into his brothers notes on spells and adds a few extra lines here and there to Sigils and changes ingredients on some poisons.

As soon as Hubert enters the door he is tripped then given a knee in the back while his dear half sibling repeatedly smashes his face into the floor.

“I told ::slam:: you not ::slam:: to work ::slam:: with them. ::slam slam:: Fucking idiot! ::slam slam slam::

Hubert’s nose is quite crooked and he can’t breathe correctly through it now. “I toad her, but she woodit lissen.”

Bob continues his rant. “Now we have a kid that suddenly appears from being gone last year. “ He definitely does airquotes on the word “suddenly”. “She’s one of them, I know it. Dump her. Dump the Agarthans. And wash your hair sometimes, ew.” Bob disappears through the floor, listening to Hubert call him a few names that weren’t in the book. Bob needs to write those down.

----------------------

It was time for the Battle of the Eagle and Lion and no Deerz allowed. Byleth has been working them pretty hard, advancing Bob as quickly as she can in magic certifications. He’s got reason down better than anyone in the group, so he’s been teaching them more advanced spellcasting. Byleth doesn’t say much but she catches on fast. If you can get Annette to shut up and concentrate, she does an amazing job. Mercedes doesn’t have her heart in it but manages to get a few reason spells down, Fire for sure, and Thunder is getting better. Felix is great with Thunder. Sylvain would be great with fire, but he screws around too much.

The horn signals for the battle to begin. Bob immediately heads for the back lines of the Black Eagles, materializing behind Linhardt, stabbing him with a blade covered with a powerful sleeping concoction. Lin would probably thank him. Bob heads over to behind Marianne in the Golden Deer. He whispers “good night, sweetie” in her ear before he holds a cloth covered with the same powerful sleeping potion. Lying her carefully on the ground he hides out in the nearby bushes to find out where Lysithia has gone off to.

He watches Ferdinand and Sylvain get into it. Handsome redheads on horses stab at each other repeatedly with pointed sticks. Finally, Sylvain gets the upper hand, but not by much. Ferdinand is out and heads to the boundary lines. Sylvain heads back to Mercedes for a bit of patching up. Annette is working on whittling down Ignatz, blowing his arrows off course as she attacks with wind spells. The professor is taking out Raphael and Claude.  Bob decides to throw a mire at Hilda. She screams about her hair and how gross the magic muck feels all over her and gives up. Felix is giving Leonie a workout.  Sylvain is back and taking on Lorenz. Lorenz throws a decent Fire spell at Sylvain, causing the redhead’s horse to rear up, he still is able to stay on the steed and then counter Lorenz with a decent lance jab that knocks the grapeheaded guy off his horse.

The battle continues on. It is between the lions and eagles, the deer are out. Its very helpful at this point that the eagles have no healer except for Dorothea. Her magic is going to be defensive not attacking for the most part. Edelgard marches down the field heading for Dimitri and Dedue, followed by Hubert and Caspar. Bob lost track of Petra and Felix, not sure who won that match. Bob grabs a large wooden sword lying on the ground and materializes behind Hubert. Swinging the flat edge of the blade at full force at the back of Hubert’s head, Bob provides Hubert with the headache of the month.

“Blockhead.” Bob smirks as he watches the dark mage fall and Bob disappears into the ground just under the swing of Edelgard’s axe. Bob shows up in a copse of trees not far away watching the rest of the blue lions completely wipe out the black eagles.

---------------------

Bob is in Abyss, in the laboratory of the most creative and beautiful sorceress he has ever met.

“Darling, would you be so kind to join me for lunch today? I would be ever so honored and grateful if you would grace my humble presence with your enlightening company.” Bob croons.

“Ever the charming one, pumpkin. However I must decline as I have serious potions to concoct today and they simply cannot mix themselves.” Constance smiles ever so sweetly, batting her eyelashes.

“Ahh. I so adore your everworking and brilliant mind, however you do need nourishment for your delectable body. If I may, I will retrieve lunch from above and bring it back to provide you with the energy needed to complete your serious tasks. “ Bob dashingly offers, his hands on his hips, his hair waving in the breeze, a sparkle shows on his teeth with a ding.

“I suppose I must acquiesce to obtaining sustenance. Having your handsome face as accompaniment is also a great pleasure. Please do go, with haste and fetch our midday feast.” Coco wiggles her fingers, encouraging him to hurry.

“But of course my flower, my jewel. I shall return poste haste.” Bob says, holding his palm open for her to gently place her hand within it so that he may delicately kiss the back of her hand, and then lick it for good measure.

He then disappears through the floor, only a minute later to walk through the wall behind her.

“Every moment away tears at my heart, my sweet lady. I am overjoyed to have returned and bask in your beauty once again. Please join me.” The handsome dark mage waves a hand at the beautifully set table complete with two darling candelabras with Ashen Wolves colored candles, napkins and tablecloth.  

They sit on the same side of the table. Bob smiles and he feeds her bite after bite until she is satisfied. Next time he may even offer to chew if for her if she so desires. He takes a napkin and lightly dabs at the corner of her mouth.

“There my precious one.” Bob coos in her ear. “Have you been sated? Is there anything else that I may obtain for you? I would pull the stars from the sky if you would only ask for them.”

Constance smiles, a bit of green something stuck on her teeth, “Nah, I’m good. “

Bob helps her from her chair and walks her back to the laboratory table. “Ahh. Then, although it pains me to do so< I shall leave you to your work.” He says before snapping his fingers, clearing the table.  

Bob dips her, giving her a face sucking kiss until her skin on her cheeks is almost purple, as he stands her back up she is completely gasping for breath, trying to cool herself with her fan. She has a severe case of the vapors. He then rises into the air, disappearing through the ceiling.

----------------------------

Remire Village. Nice place if you like living in Hell!!!! Whole place is aflame. Dimitri is acting like Frankenstein’s monster getting creeped out by the flames everywhere giving him flashbacks of Duscur. Felix is getting flashbacks of feral Dimitri. Sylvain is getting flashbacks of the girls he had dated here, they’re all monsters now and after him. Ingrid is having flashbacks of when she was camping and her marshmallows AND her hotdog fell into the campfire. Bob is busy covering the eyes of Annette and Ashe to keep them from as much of the horror as possible, the smell around him of burnt cinnamon is concerning. Somehow they save the villagers, Thomas’ skin is removed from Solon, a pasty white older than dirt uglier than sin guy. Professor B beats up the old guy pretty quick and pastyboy heads for the hills.

The Death Knight is there. Bob pulls the cinnamon rolls over and whispers in their ears.

“Hey kids, would you like to see your dear Uncle Bob get rid of the McKreepface guy on the horse? I’ll let you laugh at him while he burns, okay?”

Ashe and Annette nod their heads very quickly has Bob hands them each a bowl of popcorn and a box of milkduds for the show.

“Huzza-huzza-HOOM! You’re about to meet your DOOOOOOM!” Bob cackles as the magic of Dark Spikes T whips from his fingers and chomps on the body of the Death Knight like Godzilla eating buildings in Tokyo. The only thing left of the dude is a Dark Seal that Bob wraps in a pink bow and hands to Professor Byleth.

“Don’t you want this, Bob?” the Professor asks.

“Nope, mother got me one for my birth day. Figured you could use a spare.” The dark mage quips.

The Flame Emperor shows up. “Deathknight, you’re having too much fuuuuuuuuuck! What did you do to my pet?”

“Chomp chomp bitch.” Bob says making hand gestures like his fingers are teeth chomping towards her face.

Jeralt is angry. “So you’re the one that did this to my favorite village?”

“No, no, you got it all wrong.” The Flame Emperor backpedals. “Yeah, Solon works with me, but man I didn’t know he was going to pull this shit.”

“Come to the dark side!” Flameface pleads. “I will give you cookies…”

“We got Mercedes, your cookies suck compared to ours. Oh, and you suck too.” Says Byleth.

“Look, Solon and his buddies, they are powerful. Together, me, you, The Sword of the Creator. We can take them down.” Flame face

Bob pulls his right hand into his sleeve to make it look like it’s been cut off. “I’ll never rule the universe with you!”

Dedue runs up saying his Princeliness is missing. Bob grabs his two cinnamon rolls protectively.

“Don’t let Mr. CrazySpaghettihead scare you. Lets go get some icecream.” Bob says leading them to the monastery.

[spyroforlife]

Oh no I wrote a full thing based on this post I did a while back haha enjoy some fluff that got more emotional than I expected

- - -

Dib was already ranting as he walked into Zim's base, shrugging out of his coat and tossing it onto a table as he crossed to the couch. “-got like three projects due within the week and end of the year tests coming up and Dad still keeps trying to get me to intern at his lab every weekend...”

“Did I fucking ask?” Zim snapped, looking up from his tablet with a scowl.

Dib just invited himself right onto the couch, flopping down and continuing to complain, “And don't even get me started on Dad nagging me about college...” He pulled his boots off and dropped them carelessly on the floor. Only when he had done that did he finally acknowledge the death glare Zim was giving him. “Call me pathetic if you want, but your place is about the only place I can go to get away from things for a while.”

“It's not my fault you decided to sign up for all AP classes for your last semester of high school,” Zim said, rolling his eyes. “Don't you fledgling humans try to take it easy during your very last year of adolescent schooling?”

“Most people do, yeah. But apparently I'm supposed to have 'higher standards' for myself.” Dib did finger quotes. “Whatever, at least it's almost done.”

“Right. Now if you don't mind, I'm working.”

Dib moved over to try and looked at his tablet, and got a boot in the face for his efforts. Zim hissed at him and Dib grabbed his ankle, shoving his foot aside. “What are you working on, huh? Let me see.”

“Get away from me, hair beast!”

They spent a few seconds wrestling for the tablet, Dib trying to grab for Zim's wrists while Zim kicked at his face and chest. Dib's superior height gave him quite the reach advantage, but Zim wasn't afraid to fight dirty. But Zim quickly noticed that Dib didn't seem to have as much energy as usual, and moments later his suspicions were confirmed as Dib yawned and took a lazy swipe for the tablet that Zim easily avoided.

“Ugh, I don't even care, your plans suck anyway...”

“What? Say that a little louder, you insolent piece of-” Zim's antennae perked as Dib slumped against him, body falling limp. “Eh? Dib-stink?” He prodded Dib's forehead and leaned him back, then realized his eyes were closed. He fell asleep?! That, or passed out. “Dib?”

There was no answer. Zim squinted in confusion, dropping an antenna to hover it next to Dib's nose. He felt air and confirmed that he was still breathing.

“You humans are so weak and pathetic,” Zim sighed, pushing Dib off himself and moving away. He looked back at his tablet, scrolling through the plan he was working on. But he kept stealing glances at his foe, expecting him to wake up any moment now, loudly huffing and making comments about humans having zero energy. And still, Dib slept.

Honestly, it was sad. Zim enjoyed their rivalry, he used to find it annoying but now he looked forward to matching wits and might with the human. He greatly respected him as an enemy and even trusted him as a friend. Well, kind of. It was complicated, but Zim did know he could rely on Dib to help him when he had no other options, and he liked spending time with the other. They've had many deep discussions in recent years and it was pleasant spending time with another intellectual. Not that Zim would ever admit that out loud.

So, rather than feel glad that Dib was quiet and nonthreatening right now, Zim found himself feeling disappointed. That hadn't been much of a fight. Nowhere near as glorious as their battles usually were. They needed to settle it properly. And to do that, Dib would need to be properly rested.

Zim set his tablet aside and picked up the remote to lower the volume on the TV. It was getting dark outside, so he asked Computer to dim the lights in the living room. Once that was done, Zim shifted closer to Dib, examining him curiously. The human looked rather peaceful, his expression calm and without the stress he so often carried these days. Zim carefully took his glasses off and put them aside, then kept gazing at his face. It was strange that Dib would leave himself vulnerable like this. But then, he didn't seem to fall asleep by choice. He really was that exhausted.

Zim's gaze traveled further. The other was laying on his side, curled up a bit, knees pulled up against his chest and head resting on an arm. It was almost... cute.

Zim growled at himself and tore his eyes away. He was not going to entertain that line of thought anymore. Of course Dib wasn't cute. He was a gross, primitive alien that was going to belong to the Irken Empire one day. Zim might even force him to be his personal slave as payback for all the trouble he's caused him. Sure, Dib was tall, and smart, and he had that delightful sharpness to his eyes and a sort of weird quirk to the corner of his lip when he smiled that was positively delightful and-

And Zim forcibly derailed that train of thought and tried to ignore how his face grew warm and tingly.

Dib groaned and shifted around, and Zim saw him shift his head off his arm, though he continued sleeping. He looked uncomfortable though, his head tilted at an odd angle. Humans generally slept with pillows. Perhaps they needed their heads elevated while sleeping, Zim reasoned. He debated over what to do next, he could easily just grab Dib's coat and fold that up to put under his head, or he could let Dib rest against him...

He sighed and added this to the long list of things his enemy would have to suffer for, and moved closer, pulling Dib's head up onto his lap. He looked ahead at the quiet TV, mumbling to himself about all the shortcomings of humanity. His attempt to distract himself from the awkward situation failed. The show was boring and his mind wandered to how nice it was having the other's weight on him, his warmth seeping through Zim's clothes, and when Zim let his right hand rest on Dib's shoulder, he felt the other gently shift in closer to him, body curling up even more.

Zim's face grew warmer and he asked himself why he was doing this. Yes, of course he wanted his enemy well-rested so they could continue fighting, but... why was he doing this specifically? Why was he letting Dib lay on him rather than just walk away and wait? What did he gain?

Comfort, a small voice whispered. This was comforting. It was domestic and tender and... it made his heart ache but felt good at the same time. He shouldn't like this. Invaders worked alone. He was trained to be a single cog in the huge machine of the Irken Empire. His loyalty was to his Tallest alone. Irken soldiers were not supposed to desire companionship. It was an unspoken taboo.

Yet here he was. On a distant, unremarkable planet an entire galaxy away from his own. Sitting on the couch with an alien creature curled up next to him, asleep and trusting. And it was nice. It felt right.

“You're pathetic,” Zim whispered to himself. He could be honest with himself when no one was around to hear. “It was bad enough when you grew attached to GIR, and to Computer and Minimoose... and now you're attached to him? Your enemy? Why? What is it about him? You shouldn't be doing this. You need to shove him off. Tell him to go sleep at home and challenge you in the morning once he's suitably recharged. Just... just push him away. Right now.”

But he didn't. He stayed there, listening to Dib's steady breathing, even starting to rub slowly along the other's shoulder. His hand slipped down past where Dib's sleeve ended, fingers glancing over skin. Dib twitched but didn't wake up, and Zim figured the feel of his glove must have surprised the other. It probably was a little cool.

Zim lifted his hand and tugged the glove off, setting it down and moving his hand back to Dib's arm. He reached out slowly, at first only letting the very pads of his fingers touch the other before pulling away. As soon as he did, he registered the warmth of Dib's skin and the softness of it. Zim moved his hand back, now resting it fully on Dib, and he closed his eyes as he savored the human's body heat. How were they so warm? Of course he had studied human vital signs and knew what their internal temperature was, but to think they were so warm even on their skin like this...

Zim's internal argument continued to rage. This was unacceptable. He was out of uniform for one, but also, his hands were sensitive and he was opening himself up to injury or disease by touching an alien lifeform without a glove!

“Disgusting, putrid, inferior creature,” he murmured as he slowly began petting Dib's arm. “How dare you give me these feelings. I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't want to do this. I should throw you out the door right now.”

Dib slept on, peacefully unaware. Zim curiously moved his hand up, drifting his fingers against Dib's hair instead. He covered his mouth to muffle the shocked noise that escaped him. It was even softer than the skin! Well, perhaps it was a little messy, matted in places and definitely could be washed more often... but he still found himself fascinated with the texture, running his fingers through it over and over again. He's grabbed Dib by the hair before, yanked him around, or just ruffled it to tease him. But that was always with his gloves on. He never realized just how soft the other's hair was until now.

He decided to just stop arguing with himself. His feelings right now were new and confusing and he just didn't want to deal with it. He was going to stay in the moment, enjoying the feel of Dib's hair between his fingers and the warmth against his body, and let himself be content.

Several minutes passed. Zim relaxed more and more as he got used to this, leaning back and smiling when he felt Dib move a hand to his leg and just hold onto it, apparently enjoying their newfound peace just as much. Humans sure did move a lot during their sleep cycles, didn't they? But then he felt Dib's breathing slow further, and his antennae picked up the other's heart rate going down. Not by much, but it was notable. These were the signs of deep sleep, Zim had learned back when he first arrived. It was fascinating watching it happen naturally and not due to him drugging a human into sleep to watch the entire process on monitors. Entirely for scientific purposes of course.

This was when humans began dreaming, he knew. He wondered what Dib would dream about. Probably something weird. Dib was very imaginative and his many encounters with the supernatural probably led to some vivid dreams. Maybe Zim will ask him when he wakes up.

To Zim's surprise, Dib thrashed slightly, baring his teeth for a moment and groaning. His fingers dug against Zim's leg.

“What's wrong?” Zim asked.

Dib shook, muttering something that didn't seem to be English. It was just a garbled phrase that likely made sense only in his dream. Zim frowned. Was Dib having a nightmare? Why would he not just wake up from it, then? That's what the humans in the shows seemed to do, they would just scare themselves awake from their nightmares.

Maybe it was more difficult in real life. Should Zim wake him up then? Whatever he was seeing must be really distressing him, based on the tremors going down his back and the way he nervously kneaded at Zim's leg. Then again, if Zim woke him now, he might just get punched in the face. He's woken Dib up a few times before and the reaction was usually violent.

Zim chewed his lip as he tried to decide what to do, and while Dib's movements slowed, he kept shaking, whimpering now. Zim sighed and resumed stroking his hair, using long, slow passes that went partway down his neck before going back up to the top of his head. As he did, he began singing softly. It was an old irken lullaby that never quite went away over the generations, even as natural births declined and test tube smeets became the norm. The comforting melody persisted no matter how society changed and even now was used among friends and loved ones to soothe their worries. Zim had always liked the song but never imagined he would ever use it. But the words came easily to him nonetheless, and though Dib couldn't possibly understand the lyrics, he relaxed in response to the tune, his shaking slowing and then stopping altogether. He stopped whimpering as well, instead seeming to hum for a couple notes before falling silent.

“That's it,” Zim whispered, leaning forward and seeing that Dib's expression was peaceful again. “Those nightmares aren't real. You're safe.” He leaned back and continuing singing, closing his eyes as he did. He felt a little silly, but at least Dib could finish resting. And they could keep fighting. Because that's why he was doing this. To get Dib back into fighting shape. Yep.

It was about thirty minutes later when Dib woke up. He woke up slowly, feeling so warm and comfortable he almost didn't want to get up. Then he felt someone stroking his hair with slender fingers and heard a familiar voice singing above him.

He kept his eyes closed as he rushed to piece together where he was and what was happening. He had gone over to Zim's base to hang out just to get away from his own house for a bit. He had playfully fought with him for a while... he remembered being really tired the whole time. He must have fallen asleep.

He realized those were Zim's fingers running through his hair, unbelievably gentle and comforting. And that was Zim's voice singing in a tone softer than Dib has ever heard him use. He recognized the words as irken, and though he didn't understand them, he somehow just knew it was a lullaby. He's heard Zim swear at him before in irken, or mutter to himself, and it always seemed so harsh, but this was different. The lyrics were pronounced with trills, chirps, and purrs. He never expected to hear something so sweet from Zim. Who knew he could sing like that?

As he woke up more fully, his brain started going a thousand miles an hour. Why was Zim holding him and singing a lullaby to him? Sure, things have been better between them in recent years, but they were still enemies. Zim could have done any number of terrible things as soon as he fell asleep. He could have thrown him outside. He could have attacked him, or taken him into his lab to experiment on, he could even have seized the chance and killed him! But he didn't do any of that. They were still on the couch from what he could feel, his head was in Zim's lap, and the other's bare hand was playing with his hair.

Something about it really got to him and he found himself feeling emotional, chest tightening. He wondered if it was because he liked Zim, or if it was just that he was so lonely he would take any affectionate touch right now. Maybe it was a mix of both. He felt so safe here with the other, Zim's attention was bizarre yet very wanted and Dib found himself thinking that this was what love felt like.

And it was time to nip that in the bud. Ignoring that happy warmth in his chest, Dib opened his eyes and pushed himself up, pulling away from Zim with what he hoped was a convincing scowl. “Oh ew, I fell asleep on you? I'm out of here, I need to make sure you didn't take any of my organs.” He jumped up and Zim growled, getting to his feet as well.

Dib was partway to the door before realizing his glasses were missing and he still needed to put his boots and coat on.

“Forgetting something?” Zim asked, holding the glasses by an earpiece and giving it a wave.

Dib turned and went to grab them from him, sliding them on and then rushing through putting on his boots and coat, all while Zim teased him.

“Haha, so pathetic that you fell asleep mid battle, but now we can continue!”

“We could... or I could just go home, your lullaby really helped get rid of my stress. Thanks for that!” Dib grinned and ran for the door, swinging it open.

“Wha- hey! What lullaby?” Zim shouted. When Dib ran outside, Zim let out an irken swear and chased after him, hastily pulling his glove back on. “Get back here and fight me!”

“You gotta catch me first, bug!” Dib called over his shoulder. He couldn't help but laugh at the way the other glared at him. “And you might wanna put on your disguise if you're going to follow me.”

Zim let out a yelp and quickly ran back into the house to get his disguise. When he ran back after Dib, he was laughing, and Dib laughed too. “You're going to suffer greatly when I catch you, Earth-filth!”

“If you catch me, cicada!”

Dib may not know exactly why Zim chose to hold him throughout his nap and sing to him, but he felt like in some small way, they had bonded just a little more while he slept. And judging from the way Zim was smiling at him, he felt the same.

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Chapter 3 (Winter’s Gem) (Bucky Barnes AU)

CHAPTER 2

Characters: Bucky Barnes x You (AU)

Summary: Bucky Barnes has been scouted by your boss in Felicity Night, you were just a mere young, cleaner in Felicity night and have been living in the basement of the club for all your life. He's the most wanted Gigolo in the city, and taking him away from eager, thirsty women seemed to be impossible especially if he chose to be a Gigolo as his way of living.

Warning: Profanities. kind of suggestive matured content but they aren't doing anything? I mean, I dunno how to explain it. (HAHAHHAHA) This is an 18+ book, do I even have to warn you things? 😂 Floof? 

Words: 3,532

A/N: I hope to give justice to this Bucky Barnes series of mine. HEHEHE! TAGLISTS ARE OPEN, TATER TOTS! 

Disclaimer: PNG's, pictures and GIF's aren't mine. However, the whole series, one shots and edits are from moi. Let's add more GIFs now, Shall we? *winks*

TAGLISTS: @yn-the-reader @iwillmakeyoucraveme​ 

"You have a metal arm?!" You exclaimed all giddy and loud. Luckily, there was no people who you've caught attention. God, you were one loud, positive woman whenever he was alone with you. He thought and noted that to himself. Bucky shushed you by placing his metal finger on your lip. His gloves on the checkered, wooden table. Yet, you still eyed it in awe. The shiny metal glimmering under the dim lights. Utterly dumbstruck from his metal arm and by all the answers you've heard from him.

Y/N and Bucky were now in an mediocre type of an Italian restaurant. It was the only place opened. Add the fact that it was miles away from the sinful club that could distract them from having a peaceful night. Away from anybody who would question them why they were both eating dinner together.

Bucky have been admiring your face, the way how your lips lift up in happiness, your eyebrows softly cinched together in utter confusion when you eyed his metal hand riantly. The way you react to him, your mirthful attitude was making him awe. His head completely going elsewhere as he watched your face with a smile.

You were utterly acting different when he was alone with you. Unlike when you were in the club, you were always sad, scared and uncomfortable with the things happening around.

Yet, tonight you looked carefree and full of buoyancy.

"What happened? What made you have this metal arm?" He snapped out of his daydream, snapping out of his trance from admiring your face far too long. You stared back at him with a smile that reached your eyes.

Bucky would like to volunteer to pay a lot just to see those precious smile of yours than to see you frown.

"Accident, doll." He gruffly said. Taking a glimpse of your wondering face that was sitting in front of him. You left those questions unanswered as you curiously slipped your fingers in between the spaces of his metal hand, adoring how the plates weren't rough when it was swiping along your fingers. "Oooh! Hold my hand, Bucky!"

He lowly chuckled, completely entertained by your reaction before he softly gripped and locked your fingers with his, closing the spaces of your fingers intertwined together. Your hearts feeling all tingly and in a haywire but nobody dared to speak the feelings out. Was that a spark? "That's so coool! It doesn't feel cold or anything! How does it feel?"

Bucky licked his lips, a subtle taste of the pizza's tomato paste stuck on his taste buds. He reluctantly unclasped his hands with yours, trying to ignore the magnetic force wanting to slip his fingers with yours again. "Just like an actual arm, though a little heavier, Sugar. S'not a bother, I'm already used to it," He blinked, eyeing you chew on the ends of your soon to be finished pizza. You've had enough that could cover your week, had a little too much because it's been a long time since you had an all-meat pizza.

Besides, it feels good to chow down when it's a free treat.

"My turn," Bucky mumbled, swiping the crumbs off with the back of his metal hand. He lunged forward, elbows on the table as he set his dazzling Steele blue eyes on you. "Why do you sleep in the basement and not in your momma's room? Do you know how filthy it is down there? Rats, cockroaches and even ghosts live there,"

You hissed when you've heard the word 'ghost', they were giving you the shivers. The mere thought of it was sending you goosebumps, "I hate you, I hope the dead souls pull at your feet tonight," Y/N pouted, giving Bucky the stink eye.

God, you were so adorable. Bucky thought, chewing on his bottom lip, trying hard not to smile. It was probably the Tequila influencing his mind from thinking those types of things. "What? What did I say?"

Would you tell him? You were friends with him right now, right? As far as you remember, he had a plan to be friends with you. If Steve gets to be her friend, then I can be her friend. You remembered his words from earlier. Was he worth the trust? Yes, probably yes. "My..My mom doesn't want me with her. She hates me. All her life, all I have received from her was hatred and..and..."

Bucky knew what you were about to say next, and he didn't let you continue it because he knew how painful it was to admit that out of all the people who you could trust and love..your mother ends up hurting you the most. It was quite ironic to even think about. "Don't," He mumbled. Circling his hand in a clockwise motion, playing with the ice floating inside his glass of water as he stared at the glass at hand, looking like something was bothering him, and there was. You and your relationship with your own mother. "You don't need to continue, Doll. There's no need to hurt yourself more from the truth,"

You gave him a forced smile, leaning forward and placing your elbows on the table. Now closer to the handsome gentleman in front of you. "17th question now?" A long thread of hum left your lips as you tapped on your chin, eyeing your empty plate before lifting your gaze to see Bucky intently looking into your eyes like you're the only one that mattered in the world. Dug. Your heart tapped loudly. Dug. Dug--and again it did. "This one's kinda been in my mind since I last saw you,"

"I've been in your mind? That's probably why Steve's been looking for me the last time..he should've searched inside your head, didn't know I was worth to stay inside your interesting mind, Doll." He added cheekily, slanting his head in a very sexy manner. Luscious lips pursing together as he gave you his tantalizing smolder. Adding a wink that made your insides blow up.

Yet again, you were curling your toes inside your shoes to lessen the blush and your wild hormones wanting to react in a very bold way. Too early to jump on his lap, right? You're going to scare him away if you did.

You dramatically rolled your eyes, acting as if he was not affecting you. In reality, it was actually the opposite. "Ugh. No wonder you're a Gigolo,"

"If I was a stripper, what do you think my stage name would be?" Bucky suddenly said out of the blue, caressing his stubble and his cleft chin, appearing to find your next words interesting for him to hear.

Your face remained emotionless. "Broken white boy,"

"Do you see me broken?!"

"Ugh, can you please let me finish my question?" You groaned, face palming. He looked completely entertained by your answer, all smiles and chuckles.

"Why have you switched clubs? Gossip says--" Yet, he cut you off for the second time. He seemed to be rather hyper and too happy. The glossy look in his eyes meant he was slightly tipsy, but still sober enough to drive you both home. How can he even manage that?

Certainly years of practice. "Such the gossip girl you are, Doll. Love hearin' them from strangers. Or ya' just got pretty big ears for some hot topics?"

"--Gossip. Says." You emphasized every damn word, showing Bucky that you were serious and you wanted earnest answers. He knew damn well to zip his mouth now. "You've been recruited?"

Bucky seemed to think, before you saw him gave a weak nod. His metal fingers tapping the wooden table. "That's true."

"Why?" After that single worded question, you knew you saw his forehead twitch in the slightest. If you weren't closely staring at him, you wouldn't know.

A forced contract, a big pot of money that could keep me alive and the selfishness of one influential, filthy, manipulator. However, he didn't actually said that verbally. No, he would never bring you in such a treacherous position. Bucky doesn't want to endanger you when he was already neck deep in that deceitful agreement. "I'm the most highly requested gigolo in the city, doll. Your boss," He secretly wanted to spat that word out. It felt like he have spat out some atter. "--Noticed how I kept on bringing in the ladies in the club named 'Maximum Risk' at the west coast, then we had to talk, she offered me a much more logical compensation, a pretty humanly agreement," Kind of a lie. He so wanted to punch himself in the face. "--that I quickly agreed upon,"

You pursed your lips, nodding and trusting the words he said. "That quick?" He nodded and wiggled his fancy eyebrows. "Perks of being the best Gigolo out there, Sugar."

"So, you're kind of a lucky charm to us?"

What was making the ladies stay? What was keeping Bucky different from all the Gigolos out there in Felicity Night. There has got to be something in him that stands out. His attractive, worth-the-faint self was a plus, yet there has got to be more and you wanted to make sure of it. "What are you even famous for?"

That sparked something inside of Bucky. Oh, you were interested. Too interested in him and it was making him all giddy. "Do you really wanna know that?" He raised a brow, a cunning, lopsided smile on show that deserved the rush of tingles inside your core. Uh oh, there it was again. That stubborn, naughty urge.

"Why did I even ask that," You deadpanned and mumbled, groaning to yourself. You've intentedly jumped inside a rabbit hole even though you knew there was. "Famous for how I fuck? For the charming gentleman who could entertain everyone I escort?" He pertly answered, leaning closer with a hidden agenda to probably take advantage of your personal space as his face was closer than it was before. Your insides were jumping up and down, his voice switching a tone lower and quieter. Your eyes giving his luscious lips a once over before you hardly settled to stay looking at his hypnotizing Cerulean eyes. "For the high stamina? How I could go on and on till she's spent?"

You shifted in your seat, completely bothered by his words. Your heat was badly twitching and you wanted it to stop. You've only had that urge whenever you were watching something that could completely arouse you, so basically..This man was beginning to be an actual sex-on-legs and there was no deny that you aren't attracted to him because you are. You really are.

"Uhm," You gulped, cutting your gaze and staring at the couple who stood up from their seats. Ready to leave the restaurant. "I've asked too much, I think it was more than 20 now,"

"I got a question left," Bucky grabbed his gloves, slipping his metal hand in and you wanted nothing more than for his gloves to be off. His metal hand was doing things to you, giving yourself a very difficult time to stay still on your seat. "You and Steve..." He started, biting his bottom lip, giving you his sexy smoulder that made you tightly close your thighs together.

Bucky could see how you were holding your breath, that tiny shift in your eyes that looked like hunger and attraction. That was good, he wanted you where he wanted you to be. The feeling was completely mutual after all.

He gave you a sexy small smile, looking completely innocuous. "You both have a thing goin' on?"

"What?!" You choked on your own saliva, his question making you snort. Why would he even think that?

"The only thing going on around us is friendship. No more, no less! What made you even thought about that?!" You exclaimed, taking a gulp of your own water because the man in front of you was making you thirsty. Figuratively and literally.

Bingo. He sent a lopsided smile your way, glancing at your hand resting on top of the table in front of him and with no hesitation, he reached out to rest his hand on top of yours, making you choke on your water. "Just makin' sure, Doll." Bucky gently carressed the top of your hand that held some faded scars. Deeply staring into your eyes. You were completely shook from his boldness and words that held hidden meanings. Your heart running another mile and more.

"Wouldn't want to ruin the bro code,"

Weeks have passed after your secret dinner with Bucky. Nobody questioned why you both went home together that night. You had to make an excuse to Stan who had the guts to ask why you entered the club together. Thor saw you both leaving the club, climbing in Bucky's car and him, being the loud man he is decided that boastly telling it to Stan was a good idea.

Which the old man didn't forget to bug you with absolute, crazed questions.

"Oh, I knew you two were gonna fuck." Stan barged down the basement, having an excuse that he needed a very sturdy broom to get. You had to massage the temples of your forehead from his obscene assumptions that weren't even true.

"Did he give you the D?" His senile, shaky voice echoed around the basement. You had to cover yourself with a pillow, he was bombarding you with tons of questions that made your insides churn. Probably even hoped that his assumptions would happen soon. If that would even happen. Your heart fell after you told yourself that.

Your mother, well.. You hadn't even had to deal with her abusive hands the last few weeks which made you breath out a sigh. You didn't want to think why she was kind of in a better mood than she was before? She was being all smiley towards everyone except for you which was normal.

Though, you didn't want to jinx it soon. At least, she wasn't giving you a hard time or anything. Albeit the tiny heavy feeling inside of you is screaming to be more alert and cautious about it because she was acting too weird for your own good.

"Told you, he's gonna spark your interest one day," Stan reached for the broom beneath your single detached rusty bed. You exasperatedly groaned because of his rather factful propositions. He was basically giving you fact checks about how you were charmed by a Gigolo, a man who escorts women, a man who fucks other women in exchange for money.

You frowned thinking about what his job is, feeling your heart pricked by a big thorn from the realization that came into mind. He fucks other women in exchange for a pot of money with rich, wealthy women who wanted to have a piece of him.

Profanities came flooding over your head, you promised yourself that you weren't going to take a liking towards Gigolos. They were just going to break your heart. Your soul was already broken and frangible, why would you even risk yourself in accepting more agony when you've already had enough pain in your life?

"Sweetheart, you're a young, inconsolable woman who needs to have fun and get your heart going. If you'll stay broken and won't get yourself healed then you're forever going to feel like shit all the time. Barnes seems to like how poignant you are. Little shit probably wants some thrill in his damn life," Stan commented, wandering around your bed before stopping dead in his tracks, eyeing a handful of post it notes on top of an old bed side table. The small notes were in different colors and stacked up on top of one another.

'Please, don't starve yourself, doll. Here's a gift to make your stomach smile :)' Stan mentally read the top note, shaking his head and finding everything amusing. "Fucker's even taking care of you. He likes you a lot,"

You stared at the dusty ceiling, hearing foot steps coming from above and some dust falling on your face that made you sneeze. Stan dragged his heavy feet across your bed before propping his old ass beside you, giving you his advice. By the looks of your face, he knew you were having conflicted feelings towards Bucky. Stan knew how your mind worked and how you keep overthinking about certain things. "Bucky's a good guy, Y/N. You have nothing to worry about, he's the same as you. Broken and uncertain. You simply need each other to heal yourselves, find something good in your lives."

You could feel warmth wrap around your hand, and before you knew it. Stan was reaching out to take your hand in his, patting the top of your hand for the sympathy he felt with you. "Love takes risks. Give him a chance, not all Gigolos are the same. Steve's his best friend, you know how Steve is." He added, convincing you to give his favorite guy a chance. He knew Bucky at heart, he had bonded with the guy once he stepped foot in Felicity Night, despite of Bucky's pretty boy looks, Stan knew how big his heart was. He even knew something that was meant to be kept for the three of them. Steve, him and Bucky. Only them.

"Birds of the same feather, flock together. To make it simpler, they're both good guys, Y/N. So, cut the denial shit and get it on with that guy," Stan snickered, voice seeming to be filled with phlegm before loudly clearing his throat.

You chewed on your bottom lip apprehensively, propping your elbows behind you to give the old man a look, "We don't even love each other??"

"That's what you only got from what I've said?" He questioned skeptically before standing up from his place on your bed, brushing his hands off his pants, shaking his head and totally unconvinced from the words coming out of your mouth. "Bullshit. You're gonna love him soon,"

He doddered till he reached the door, stepping up the staircase with his feeble legs. Singing old love songs with his senile voice, chuckling after you yelled, sounding so defeated.

"Whatever, Stan!"

Your head fell on the hard pillows with a thud, hissing once you felt the painful impact. Your pillows were hard, and you completely forgot about that. You swallowed the saliva forming in your throat, trying to calm your fast beating heart. Yet, you couldn't because all you had in mind was Bucky, his letters and how he was trying to take care of you.

You breathed out a sigh, closing your eyes and let your imaginations take over. Imaginations about what could happen when you plan on finally opening your heart to a Gigolo.

It wasn't just any Gigolo, but it was a man who made a deep impression, a man who planned on connecting your heart with his. A man who planned on taking care of you, wanting to keep you away from the evil souls who dare even touch you the slightest.

Yet, he was a man who could get your heart broken with just a single snap of his fingers. Washing your heart away like dust in the skies. Why? Because your heart was already drowning with the feelings you had for him. It was too deep that you couldn't swim up to save yourself.

You were already liking him too much, and there was no escape because that's what Bucky wanted.

You and your big, delicate heart that he could fix with just a single kiss.

TELL ME WHAT Y’ALL THINK OF THIS CHAPTER! THANK YOU! 

[the-stories-in-my-head-95]

Love at First Punch- Part 3

Damian Wayne x Reader

Summary- Reader is the daughter of green arrow and black canary and first meets Damian a couple weeks after he starts to live with Bruce. He says something rude and you punches him in the face and it’s been happily ever after ever since. When you are 18 you, Damian and Bart Allen get sucked into another universe. One where Thomas Wayne, your grandfather and Nora Allen are all alive and they are founding members of their justice league. In an attempt to get back to your universe Bart accidentally brings you to another universe where you are ambushed and taken into custody by none other than the Avengers. Will the three of you make it back home?

Message- Here’s part 3, sorry it took so long to write it! This part has the Avengers. Sorry if it sucks!

Background  Part 1  Part 2

Word Count- 1405

The three of you end up being trapped in this alternate dimension for 3 months. It’s weird getting to know a man that has been dead your whole life, the man that drove your Dad to become the man he was. You can tell that Damian and Bart feel similarly about their grandparents.

“We figured it out, we can leave today.” Bart says. You and Damian just nod your heads silently. You get up and go to find your Grandfather.

“Bart and Nora figured a way to get us home.” You whisper.

“Yeah, Nora told me. I-I’ll miss you.” Your grandfather says. “I-I wrote a letter, I was wondering if you could give it to Ollie.”

“Of course. I’ll miss you too.” You say as you pull him into a hug. Then you take the letter and the two of you walk to the lab.

“This should open a portal to your world, it should open somewhere near the club was.” Nora says.

“Thank you, all of you.” You murmur. You all say your final goodbyes, before the three of you step into the portal. Then you’re falling, it feels like forever and then you land, hard. But not hard enough to cause any damage.

“Oww.” Bart whines.

“I agree.” Damian says. The three of you get up slowly and you all stretch. You pick your bow up off of the ground. The three of you are looking around.

“We’ll this definitely isn’t anywhere near the-“ You start.

“Weapons down, hands up.” You hear from behind you.

“Bart.” You hiss and he nods slightly. So you drop your bow, all three of you turn around slowly and you see 7 people, all dressed in different super suits and they all have weapons pointed at you. “Now.”

Then Bart zooms away, but first he puts your bow back into your hand, you load it with an arrow and shoot at the purple man flying in the sky. It should have hit him in the chest, but it goes right through him.

“Martian?” You murmur.

“Perhaps, Beloved.” Damian murmurs as he uses several batarangs to try to hinder their attacks. Then an arrow zooms between the two of you. You pull an arrow out of your quiver and shoot at the archer. You’re equally matched, your arrows continue to hit his. You look around and noticed both Bart and Damian are being overpowered as well. You become more desperate and start to shoot arrows at not only the archer.

“Canary.” Damian yells, so you look over at him. You see that he’s putting earplugs in. “Cry!” You nod your head and you wait for Bart to notice what was about to happen, you see him scoop up Damian and run behind you. Then you scream, as load as you can, the ones who are attacking you start to fall to their knees, but the purple one is only slightly hindered by your sonic attack. So you try to scream loader, but eventually your lungs are screaming for air. Your vision starts to go fuzzy from lack of oxygen, eventually the world goes black.

***

(Avengers pov)

“They’re kids.” Tony murmurs as he looks into the cells where the three trespassers.

“I was a kid. When I was recruited.” Nat whispers.

“Still, maybe we can help them. Deprogram them, show them the light and what not.” Tony says.

“I want to talk to her, when she wakes up.” Clint murmurs.

“What, do archers stick together?” Sam jokes.

“You saw how good she is, that kind of skill takes decades of training, and she’s what 18?”  Clint says.

“Fine, we’ll talk to her first. Then the boys.” Steve says. The two boys wake up first, but eventually you wake up.

“Let’s go.” Steve says to Clint. The two men walk towards the cells. They move to unlock yours but the two boys are making a big stink.

“If you so much as touch her, I will rip you to shreds. I am the heir to the demon! You will listen to me!” The one with black hair screams. The one that is fast is banging his fists against the wall.

(Back to Readers POV)

“Robin, Impulse, stop. I can take care of myself.  It’s going to be okay.” You murmur.

“I will kill them, if they hurt you, beloved.” Damian screams.

“It’s okay.” You murmur as you let one of the men lead you down the hall. They lead you into an interrogation room and push you into a seat.

“What’s your name kid?” The archer asks. You stay silent, just staring at him.

“How old are you?” The one that had been dressed like the American flag asks. You continue to sit in silence. “Who sent you?” They both ask numerous question, but you continue to sit in silence.

“They’re going to come for us, you know.” You eventually murmur.

“Who?” The archer asks.

“The league? You guys made a real dumb decision when you decided to attack the three of us.” You growl.

“What’s the league?” The other man asks.

“Please, really, that’s what you’re going with? The Justice League? You know Superman, Wonder Woman, Batman, and Green Arrow? They’re going to get us and then you are all going to rot in prison. What kind of villain dresses in red, white and blue anyway?”

“We’re not villains, we’re the Avengers. The earth’s mightiest heroes? My name is Steve and this is Clint.” Steve says.

“We’ve never heard of the Justice league. You trespassed on our compound. We’re did you learn to shoot like that kid?” Clint ask.

“My Dad.” You murmur. “Y-You’re sure that you’re not bad guys?”

“Pretty sure, kid.” Steve murmurs.

“Fuck!” You shout as you slam your cuffed hands against the table. “It didn’t work.”

“Hey calm down, kid. What didn’t work?” Clint asks.

“W-We’re heroes, sidekicks actually. Our parents are heroes.” Then you explain everything that had happened in the last several months.

“Look, kid, we want to believe you, but that’s a pretty crazy story.” Steve says.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t believe it either. Do you have a lord of order on this world?” You ask.

“Lord of order?” Clint asks.

“A sorcerer?” You ask.

“Strange.” Clint says before walking out of the room. He comes back in with a man who is wearing a red cape. “This is Doctor Strange.”

“Hello.” You murmur. “Look into my head, they need know that I’m telling the truth. But, be warned if you look at anything I don’t want you to, I know a few tricks.”  Strange nods and puts his hands one your forehead. You show him everything that has happened, how Klarion had sent you to a different dimension and how you ended up hear in an attempt to get home.

“She is telling the truth.” Strange says. “I will try to find you home dimension.” He says before leaving the room.

“Uncuff, me please.” You say. Steve uses a key and lets you go.  “Thank you.”

“Let’s go let your friends out.” Clint says and you nod. You were a couple steps behind Clint.

“Where is Canary? If you have hurt her, I will kill you. Throw you in the pit and then kill you again!” Damian growls.

“Dam, relax. They’re the good guys. This just isn’t our dimension.” You say as you waltz into the room. “Get them out please.”  Then Clint lets Damian out of his cell, he runs to you and looks you over before he pulled you into a passionate kiss.

“Ugh, again, really.” Bart murmurs. “Are you going to do that every time we get out of a situation like this?”

“Yes.” Damian growls before pulling you into another kiss.

“Ah new love. I guess gross in every dimension.” Tony says as he walks into the room.

“That isn’t new love. They’ve been together since they were like seven.” Bart snorts. “That’s just how they are.”

“Please, the second we get home you’re going to be just as bad with Jamie.” You say.

“I plead the 5th.” Bart murmurs as he rolls his eyes.

“Why didn’t the portal work?” Damian asks.

“I don’t know. It could have been a thousand different things.” Bart murmurs.

“Well, we’re going to help you get home.” Steve says.

“Thank you.” You murmur as Damian wraps an arm around your shoulder.

“Anything we can do for some fellow heroes.” Clint says.

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[tutselutse]

I wrote a Cheryl x Toni thing. Bc I’m obsessed. There is background core four drama. (bc i love it)  

It's been two weeks since the Southside students started stinking up the halls, and Cheryl is not amused. She hates every last one of them and their greasy hair, tattoos and extensive use of flannel. Since Josie is still busy with her band and (ugh) flirting with Reggie, Cheryl has needed something else to do. It has taken her a bit of effort, but she has now managed to establish dominance over every student from the Southside. All it took was wearing her best clothes, a lot of well-crafted insults and in one case accidentally stepping on a foot with her stiletto heel. If no one will like her, then they can all fear her. Still, she'd much rather they weren't here at all.

Someone brushes against her in the hall as they walk past her. Gross. Cheryl debates ditching Chemistry to take a bath in the locker room. It's that sort of thing she used to say to Jason, and then he would laugh all soft and genuine and call her a drama queen. That laugh might be what she misses the most. Her heels are clicking against the floor as she walks and gives her best glare to everyone around her, so they move out of her way. Aside from one Southsider, who bravely still ignores her.

Okay, so she has bested everyone except one person. The pink haired girl. Toni. No matter what Cheryl says, Toni just grins or rolls her eyes. It's becoming quite frustrating, and Cheryl catches herself watching Toni and trying to come up with ways to bring her down.

Whenever they end up near each other, Cheryl drops a snide remark or two. And since Jughead Jones seems intent on including Toni in his ridiculous shenanigans and Betty Cooper seems intent on including Cheryl, they end up near each other more than Cheryl would like.

It becomes a nice distracton fro obsessing over Josie and Reggie. To think of something that will wipe that damn smirk off of Toni Topaz' mouth. She thinks about it at home, at school, when she goes to sleep and when she wakes up.

It's a game, and Cheryl knows she always wins. She jabs and pokes with every word she has, always accompanying it with a sickly sweet smile to cover up how hungry she is for a reaction. It's a game and it's rigged in Cheryl's favor, because one day one of her remarks will hit a sore spot, and Toni will lose. It's only a matter of time.

Mentioning the Southside or the disgusting gang aesthetic doesn't work, but something will. Calling her a poor man's Katy Perry doesn't work on Toni, but makes Kevin choke on a laugh, so Cheryl counts that in her own favor. It's the middle of class, and Toni just leans in and grabs one of Cheryl's pencils, saying since she is poor, she will have to borrow one. Having her up close is intoxicating and Cheryl searches her face for a sign that she is cracking. She finds none.

So she tries harder. She even lets Betty drag her along to the Magical Murder Mystery Tour, just to see Toni outside of her laid back school persona. It's during one of those late night investigations, at the closed down Southside high school of course, because Betty and Jughead seriously lack imagination, where she makes progress. They've split up into pairs, and Cheryl seizes the opportunity to yet again make a snide remark at Toni's expense when they are alone. They've never been alone before. It's exciting.

Toni brushes it off as always and walks into a classroom. Cheryl follows her, not really caring about what they are looking for. She makes another comment, not even thinking about what she is saying, and then Toni is right up in her face, pushing her against the wall

"What's your fucking problem with me?" she asks through her teeth. Cheryl wants to say something clever, something that makes Toni look like a fool, like Watch your temper sweetheart or What? Can't handle a little joke? But they are so close they are practically sharing oxygen and Cheryl's brain seems to be malfunctioning. Instead she just drops her gaze to Toni's lips, currently curved into a snarl. When she looks back up, Toni eyes gleam darkly and she presses herself up against Cheryl, squeezing her even tighter between her body and the wall. Then she leans in and kisses Cheryl hard.

Cheryl gasps and kisses her back. Toni grabs her wrists and pins them against the wall, while biting her bottom lip, and then pushing her tongue into her mouth. Cheryl tries not to moan. She fails a little. Toni pushes a thigh between her legs, and Cheryl hips starts moving. Her body has a crazy response to the kiss, like it has been desperate for this for so long, and getting it is making her fall apart.

Toni kisses her even harder, pressing against her and Cheryl wants more, more, more.

Then suddenly it's over, and Toni watches her with a satisfied smirk, while stepping back and letting go of her wrists. Cheryl remains leaned against the wall, fighting to catch her breath. Toni eyes her up and down and licks her lips. Cheryl knows she must look like a mess and she hates Toni for looking exactly like she did before they kissed. Ripped jeans clinging to her legs, t-shirt and leather jacket in place. Not even that ridiculous bandana around her head has moved an inch. Whereas Cheryl can feel her skirt having moved up her hips, and her lips feel swollen and messy from her lipstick.

Toni pick up her flashlight and just resumes working. Cheryl considers running out of the room, running home. She wishes she could talk to Jason. He would love her even though she just made out with a disgusting Southside Serpent. Running home would mean she lost though. And Cheryl is a winner. Maybe she looked more affected than Toni, but she was the one who was shoved against the wall. And if Toni could seem like it hadn't affected her to kiss Cheryl Blossom, then Cheryl wasn't going to be affected by kissing her.

She resumed the search, and when Toni was distracted, she fixed her lipstick. When they met up with the others, she was certain no one could tell what had happened.

***

Cheryl treats herself to some serious spa treatment that weekend. She is determined to come back to school looking even more like a goddess than usual. Which is hard, she knows, but she never backed down from a challenge. Plus, it always made her feel better to do a complete scrub of her body. She spends a lot of time thinking about what to do now. Clearly Toni is better at this game than she thought, and now it has changed. But Cheryl knows she is a catch, and since Toni is attracted to girls, a different kind of torment seems appropriate. Plus, she clearly had said something that pushed Toni over the edge, so really Cheryl had won that round.

She lets herself sink deeper into the water as her mind drifts back to the kiss. She touches her lips absentmindedly. They are still swollen and sore, but she doesn't mind it much. In fact, thinking about Toni pressing her against the wall and biting her lip is arousing her again. She wonders what it would be like to feel her hands on her body. Then she catches herself and shakes her head.

Control, Cheryl, she tells herself and starts scrubbing her legs again. It was all about control. If there was one thing Cheryl was good at, it was controlling others and their attraction to her. She crawled out of the bath and eyed herself in the mirror. She smiled wickedly. Oh yes. Game on, Toni Topaz.

***

She has perfected a way of causally looking amazing, without seeming like she tries, years ago. This Monday she puts it to good use. She has prepared herself for everything, and knows exactly what to do, to taunt Toni and make her want more. Cheryl has put on a tight skirt and her high boots and let her hair tumble in curls down her back. Her lips are a darker red than usual, and the shirt is just a tiny bit see-through.

What she isn't prepared for is her own reaction to seeing Toni, who is talking to that Sweet Pea guy, and is wearing her usual t-shirt and ripped jeans combo. Cheryl felt a wave of want hit her. She suppresses it and sashays confidently down the hall, not even looking to see if Toni noticed her.

That afternoon Betty drags them into the newspaper room to recap Friday's results. Veronica looks upset, and Cheryl feels a little urge to ask her what was up. Ugh, gross. She notices Toni eye her legs, and almost  smirks victoriously. She needs more. She needs to break her completely. To make her beg Cheryl to kiss her again.

Cheryl doesn't care much for the case, but they all seem excited about the results so she smiles at Betty and starts saying: "If you need my help again, let me know." She intends to leave just then, but before she can make her exit, Jughead's phone rings and he bolts out of the room, and then everyone starts to leave. Damn. Cheryl throws her hair over her shoulder and turns with a huff. Before she can leave, Toni looks at her and winks.

Cheryl is shocked. A part of her wants to throw herself across the room and kiss the living hell out of Toni. Another part is angry! How dare she acknowledge it happened? Like that. With a wink! Also, why does she want to kiss Toni?

The rest of the week passes like that. Whenever Cheryl gets a small reaction out of Toni, she just rolls with it and smiles like she is saying you're doing this for me? Cute. It's infuriating. She wants to win, to wind her up and break her. To throw her off her game, the way Cheryl has been thrown off hers.

On Wednesday they bump into each other in the locker room. Toni has just gotten dressed, seemingly the last person to get ready after her Gym Class. Pathetic. Cheryl is there to pick up her broche, which she managed to forget after the Vixens practiced earlier.

"So much later than everyone else," she comments, smiling as sweetly as she can, "It's okay if it's hard for you to put on jeans with so many holes in them."

Toni chuckles and wraps a flannel shirt around her hips. Honestly, why is this living cliché a part of Cheryl's life? She notices the broche not far from Toni's boots. She walks over and picks it up, ready to say something mean about her almost breaking an invaluable object, but when she stands up, Toni is right there. In her face. Smelling like soap. Cheryl swallows and tries to remember what she was going to say. Toni smiles at her, raising an eyebrow and Cheryl just loses it. She moves forward and crashes their lips together, hoping to do to Toni what had been done to her. To leave her heaving and aching for more.

Cheryl forces herself to pull back before she wants to. So she can leave Toni there with figurative blue balls. Toni eyes are darker, but she is smiling with amusement. "I knew you'd be back for more," she whispers and Cheryl feels shivers run down her spine at the word more.

Toni moves towards her slowly, again pressing Cheryl against the wall, and Cheryl downright whimpers. What the fuck? Her hands get pinned against the wall again and Toni looks at her hungrily before finally kissing her. Cheryl drops the broche and gasps as Toni licks into her mouth. For a moment she forgets where they are, who  they are. Nothing exists but their lips, tongues, the sound of their breath and the feel of hands around Cheryl's wrists.

But then Toni let's go of her wrists and places her hands on Cheryl's hips. She can feel the heat through the thin fabric of her skirt. The kiss is even hotter than last time, both girls more eager, more aware of what they want. Last time Cheryl was shocked, this time she knows she has to give as good as she gets. So she does, moving a hand to scratch at Toni's scalp and twist her fingers into that awful pink hair.

Have they ever done anything other than kiss? Cheryl doesn't remember anything else. And yet, it's too soon when Toni pulls back. She smirks at Cheryl, clearly very pleased with herself. Her eyes roam over Cheryl's body and face, and then she whispers "I bet you look gorgeous when you've been properly fucked."

"I always look gorgeous, ChaCha," Cheryl responds, hoping her makeup hides the warmth in her cheeks. She stands up straighter and brushes her hands on her skirt.

"I agree," Toni says with a smile. Ugh. Cheryl kind of hates that smile. Toni could really benefit from turning the smugness down. "We should do this again some time," she says with a wink, and then she leaves. Cheryl stares after her. What the fuck had just happened? She picks up the broche, fixes her lipstick and leaves.

***

Archie Andrews is throwing a party. Cheryl has no idea why, and frankly isn't even interested, but Josie is going (with Reggie. Ew.) and for some reason Betty Cooper invites her to come.

"We'd love it if you came, Cheryl," Betty says and looks at her with those big fish eyes, "I mean, no one knows how to party like you."

"True," Cheryl agrees. She knows Betty is attempting to woo her with flattery, but that's no reason to ignore the compliment. "You need me there to make this thing a success, but I am just not sure I have the time."

Betty actually pouts. Ew. Then Archie shows up, giving Betty a smile that can only be described as tender. Cheryl fights the urge to gag. "Cheryl, are you coming to the party? You are kind of a part of the gang now," he says and looks like an overeager dog.

"I already told Blue Sweater here that I am too busy," Cheryl says and turns on her heel and walks away. Ah, that felt good. Those two were getting way to chummy with her.

Jason would tell her she was being ridiculous. He'd tell her to make friends, and to be nicer to people. Her mother gives her a look when she comes home. Like she is disappointed, but not surprised Cheryl is on her own on a Friday. Whatever.  

That night she shows up at the party anyway. It's a power move to recline, and then show up, like she is bringing them a gift. Herself. Plus, she needs to see what Josie and Reggie are up to. She waits until she is certain they've given up on her, and then she barges through the door, throws her jacket at the nearest person (which happens to be Jughead Jones, how perfect!) and strides into the living room. Everyone stares at her, so she smiles and gives them a little wave.

Betty seems tipsy as she runs over and hands Cheryl a red cup of something and gives her a clumsy hug. There is a whole lot of Southside trashworms there as well. Weird. Archie seems in deep conversation with the Sweet Pea guy. Cheryl looks at them in confusion.

"Oh, they are kind of friends now," Betty explains with a giggle. Figures, both of them are tall and dumb.

"Fascinating," she says sarcastically and drinks from the cup. It's punch, and not a good one. But that might be because of the cheap alcohol someone has spiked it with. Oh well.

Betty just beams again. What is up with that girl?

"Cheryl!" Veronica appears. Cheryl looks her up and down. She looks like a vampire librarian in that black lace dress and the string of pearls. Uninspired as always. Her and Betty dress exactly the same, except Veronica wears colors appropriate for a funeral and Betty apparently never outgrew the colors for baby clothes. It's almost tragic.

"Hello Veronica," Cheryl fakes enthusiasm.

"You look amazing," Veronica says. Her and Betty seem to be on a mission to make her feel welcome. She is right, though. Cheryl's dress is black velvet and off the shoulders, and as always her hair is a cascade of red curls.

They talk clothes for a while, scaring off Betty who looks uncomfortable with all the designer names Veronica is dropping. It's almost a little funny. Then Veronica insist on dancing, and Cheryl follows her. She spots Josie, who is grinding on Reggie's leg. Veronica sends her a look and they both giggle. Veronica says she once spent a night out doing the same, and that Reggie will follow any pair of hips swaying near him. Cheryl shakes her head and says she hopes Josie knows what she is doing. Veronica nods and says everyone is allowed a little fun.

"You are right of course," Cheryl grins, and then they start dancing. Cheryl likes to dance. She is good at it too, and she knows it. Veronica is good too, and since they aren't competing this time, it actually ends up being fun. Well. A little anyway. Cheryl is very aware of how great they are looking right now, and she enjoys it. Veronica is grinning at Archie, who is watching them from the edge of the dance floor.

Cheryl's eyes absentmindedly scan the room of people watching them, knowing she is putting on a show. Then she sees Toni Topaz. Who's wearing an unbelievably ruined shirt, denim shorts and a pair of boots. Cheryl tears her gaze away from the shirt - that thing is more holes than fabric - and meets Toni's eyes. She is staring at Cheryl, mouth slightly open and wow. Her eyes are burning. Cheryl swings her hips and smiles playfully.

Toni responds by biting her lip. Cheryl feels a wave of victory hit her and she turns around, smiling to herself, giving Toni a view of her back. Veronica grabs her hand and spins her back around, intertwining their fingers. Cheryl looks back at Toni, who is still looking at her. Now she is leaning against the wall, with a thumb in her belt loop. They don't break eye-contact again. If dancing while knowing the boys are watching makes Cheryl feel good, there is no way of describing how it feels too dance while being eye-fucked by Toni Topaz.

Cheryl isn't sure which of them is winning this round. Because Toni wants her, it's obvious, but Cheryl wants her to stay right there, to keep watching. When did she start dancing for Toni and not herself? Cheryl finally breaks the spell and looks away. Veronica hasn't stopped making eyes at Archie, so Cheryl pulls her closer and whispers, "Just go dance with your boyfriend."

"But we're having fun," Veronica argues. Cheryl gives her a look, and Veronica lets go and runs off. When Cheryl looks back at the wall, Toni has disappeared.

Cheryl decides she needs more alcohol. She walks back to the kitchen and grabs another cup of the bearable punch. She hears angry voices from outside.

"I wanna be with you."

"Then why did you kiss my best friend?"

"You broke up with me!"

Her curiosity has just gotten the better of her, and she is about to go look when someone speaks behind her. "That was quite the show." It's Toni, leaning against the doorway, looking better than any Southsider has any right to, now wearing that gang member jacket over her clothes.

"You looked like you enjoyed it," Cheryl responds, and sends her a flirty smile. There is no reason to pretend nothing is going on between them.

"I did," Toni walks over and grabs the cup from Cheryl's hands. She takes a sip and grimaces. "That's disgusting. I could mix you something better down in the Whyte Wyrm."

Cheryl scrunches up her nose. "I'd rather not. That place is way too dirty for me."

"Am I too dirty for you?" Toni asks, and Cheryl is taken aback by the directness of the question and the earnest way Toni is looking at her.

"In theory, yes," Cheryl responds, leaning in closer and taking the cup back. She takes a slow sip.

"What about in practice?" Toni asks, placing a hand on Cheryl's and moving the cup down. The feel of her hand against her wrist makes Cheryl heart thump. Memories.

They are awfully close now, lips nearly touching. "Remind me how it works in practice," Cheryl whispers. Toni closes the small distance between them, kissing her softly. Like a test. It makes her breath hitch in her throat. Cheryl doesn't want soft. Not now. Not after the way Toni was watching her before. So she runs her tongue along Toni's bottom lip. This earns her a little whimper. Cheryl pulls back and grins. She takes Toni's hand and drags her along.

They run out to the garage, and when they've closed the door behind then, Toni runs her hands through Cheryl's hair and kisses her hungrily. They stumble further into the garage, almost knocking into some of Archie's instruments. It makes them both giggle. Cheryl feels drunk, but not from the punch, this is all Toni.

Toni, who's hands are inching up her waist, setting her body on fire. Cheryl hands are wandering too, she can't help it. Toni kneels down, pulling Cheryl with her so they are both on the floor. Cheryl pushes the leather jacket off her shoulders, and puts her hands under that thing she is wearing as a shirt. Toni shudders and kisses her harder when Cheryl trails her nails over her bare skin. She kisses Cheryl down her neck, while one hand starts starts running up and down her leg. It makes everything tingle, and Cheryl lifts the "shirt" over her head, breaking the kiss. She takes a moment to just admire Toni's exposed skin, before crawling into her lap and straddling her.

Cheryl doesn't know how long they spend sitting like this, kissing and kissing and kissing, while Toni's hands are everywhere but suddenly she is being maneuvered backwards, so she is lying on her back while Toni hovers over her, kissing her neck and moving a hand up her inner thigh. Cheryl has a small moment of panic because she has no idea what's expected in a situation like this? Is she supposed to reciprocate at the same time? Is that what two women do? Why hasn't she googled this before? She trails her own hand down Toni's side, heading towards her denim shorts.

Toni's hand comes up and stops her. She smiles and holds Cheryl's hand up between them, "Not until you cut your nails," she says with a grin, and Cheryl blushes. Toni kisses her again, and pushes the dress up her hips. Cheryl's breath hitches in her throat.

It's better than Cheryl remembers sex ever being before. Maybe because of how much she has been wanting to do this with a girl, or specifically Toni. As she moans and succumbs into the touch, she finally admits it to herself. She has wanted Toni bad for a while now. Since before they even kissed the first time. And having her now, like this, is better than she thought it would be.

She bites down on her own bottom lip when she comes, so she doesn't cry out too loudly.

Afterwards Toni remains half on top of her, and kisses her gently on the lips, then her exposed shoulder and collarbone. She looks down at Cheryl and grins that smug grin again. "I was right, you do look gorgeous after having your brains fucked out."

"I wouldn't bet on a career in smooth-talking," Cheryl responds and clicks her tongue. She's not sure why she says it. Being snarky is just her default setting, and she is feeling extra vulnerable right now. Toni's eyes drop for just a second, and then she kisses Cheryl again.

Cheryl kisses her back for a moment, but then she starts to worry if people are looking for them. She pushes Toni off and readjusts her dress. Toni looks at her in confusion. "Someone could be looking for us. You and Jugface seemed joined at the hip, and Betty has been disturbingly friendly to me lately."

"You're leaving?" Toni's brows are furrowing.

"This was fun," Cheryl says in a cheerful tone and stands up. Toni's eyes drop, and she bites her lip. She sits there in her shorts and bra and doesn't move and that's when it hits Cheryl. If she leaves now, she has won the game. Toni will be the one left with the obsession. It makes her smile. She looks at the serpent jacket on the ground, and picks it up. A fair price for besting Toni Topaz.

She puts it on as she leaves the garage and rejoins the party. There are a lot more people in the house, and the music's louder. Cheryl glances around. What the hell happened while she was getting laid? She walks into the kitchen and sees Josie and Reggie making out like they've been possessed or something. It stuns her. She has feelings for Josie. Had feelings. Has. It's confusing. The image of Toni on top of her flickers in front of her eyes. She turns on her heel and leaves.

She walks into the living room just as someone yells, "how could you?!" and then Veronica rushes past her into the kitchen and out the back door.

Cheryl looks at the people in the living room, all staring at Betty and Archie, who are standing really close. Ah. Those two are idiots. She turns around and runs after Veronica.

She finds her sitting on the ground outside, ugly crying loudly. Ugh. This is not Cheryl's forte. Jason, help me. She doesn't wanna sit on the filthy ground, but she remembers all the time Jason crawled into the closet with her, even though he hated small spaces, because she was crying. She sits down next to Veronica and places a hand on her shoulder. Veronica responds by turning around and burying her face in Cheryl's shoulder, crying harder.

" It seems I missed the drama," Cheryl says after a moment, "how unlike me."

Veronica makes a strangled noise, like a laugh is trying to escape through the sobbing. Cheryl bites down hard to keep from pulling a face. Veronica sniffles and sits up, wiping her eyes.

"Archie and Betty kissed," she says. Cheryl cringes visibly.

"When?"

"A few weeks ago. We were broken up for a few days and then he just kissed Betty." Veronica breaks into sobs again. "H-how could they d-do this to m-me?"

"They are both kind of dumb," Cheryl says bluntly, "like. Not smart at all."

"Betty is my best friend," Veronica says when she can control her voice again.

"She's not good at it," Cheryl remarks. Why is this comfort thing so hard?

"She forgave me, back when me and Archie made out at your party. But this is different. Right?" She looks like she wants confirmation, so Cheryl nods.

"Um, so different," she says "first of all, you weren't BFF at the time. Second, they weren't dating. Third, she wasn't dating that southsider." Cheryl is good at receipts.

"Oh, Jughead," Veronica says and starts crying again. She's shaking hard, so Cheryl takes off the leather jacket and wraps it around her shoulders. It seems to help her. Cheryl wraps her arm around her again and holds her a little longer.

"I'm gonna drive you home now," Cheryl suddenly says. She is surprised herself. It must be from channeling Jason.

"Okay," Veronica says weakly. They climb to their feet, and when they turn around they see Toni there. Cheryl feels relieved to see her, ashamed of before, and she has a weird urge to explain that she is helping Veronica.

"Need help?" Toni asks.

"Yeah, thanks," Cheryl nods and Toni lifts Veronica's other arm around her shoulder. They take her through the house in silence. Cheryl scares off Archie with a look. When they are outside, Cheryl asks: "How long were you watching?"

"A while," Toni says, "I've never seen you help anyone before."

"Oh."

Cheryl drives while Toni sits with Veronica in the back. When they reach the hotel and has walked her to the door, Veronica hands Cheryl the leather jacket and says "Thanks."

When she is inside the hotel, Cheryl tries to hand it to Toni. "You can wear it a bit more," Toni says with a smile, "it's kinda sexy."

"I'm sorry," Cheryl says, "I know I can be a hateful bitch."

"I've noticed," Toni replies with a smile. A smile Cheryl has started to realize is just genuine, and not smug at all. Cheryl reaches down and takes her hand.

"Let me buy you a milkshake at Pop's," she offers. Toni's smile widens. They walk hand in hand to the car. Cheryl isn't sure what this is, but she thinks she might be done with playing games for now.

[dudence-blog]

Dear Dudence for 13 February 2018

Wow, it’s been like a month.  I’d apologize but, honestly, I do think for fun and the time I spend reading, thinking, and writing had to come out of time spent with family, work, or school.  Also, I realized I needed there to be something in the NuPru source which made me go “ugh, that is just wrong.”  Maybe some Stockholm Syndrome has kicked in and I see her point of view on things I used to disagree with, and life is too short for me to get too wrapped around the axle about something written by a lesser advice columnist. So, with the non-apologetic apology it’s off to the letters.

I live in a condo that has a gym, which I frequent. Unfortunately, another gym rat in the building smells very bad. She might not care, or she might not even notice; I’m not sure. But the gym is small, and the stench is so unpleasant that it makes me cut my workout short. (We’re usually the only two there at the same time.) What’s the appropriate way to say something? Or should I just avoid confrontation and file a gentle complaint with the property manager?

Dear How do I Tell?  Do you want a condo war?  Because this is how you get a condo war.  The gym is one of the few parts of modern American life where the natural human funk can be reasonably expected to be tolerated.  I’m also impressed because you’ve managed to make something I thought was pretty sad: religiously working out at the apartment “gym” and make it even sadder.  Religiously working out at the apartment gym, and sharing it with someone who now really resents you.  I get it, some people can really get a good stink going on, or they might wear those fancy moisture-wicking fabrics which need a bit of extra cleaning to get the odor-causing bacteria out, or there might be some cultural differences in personal hygiene, or you could be frequenting the gym to spend 15 minutes on the ellipitcal’s lowest setting while she’s in there for an hour trying to find extra weight to put on the machines because they’re just not enough.  This is a conversation which has a 45-45 shot of either her being shamed into doing something to make her merely-normalish-stink or she goes to the mattresses on you.  The remaining 10% is that she either has a medical issue and she knows she stinks like that, which is why she uses the private gym where she lives and not a real gym, or she’s from France and you’re a racist for suggesting she stinks.

Well, the hard part is over. My boyfriend of two years and I are breaking up. It’s excruciating, because I love living with him. He is clean, polite, funny, a kick-ass cook, and handles conflict well. But that just makes it harder that he’s not very affectionate. He doesn’t share much of himself emotionally, or put his arm around me anymore, or initiate sex. I could almost have dealt with it, but when I told him I needed him to take sex more seriously or it would end the relationship, he didn’t make any changes.

Dear Breakup Lite, I’m really glad that you and your soon-to-be-ex have had such a mature break-up.  I know they’re hard, especially when they’re someone you care about, but when you’re incompatible on something as fundamental as… wait… I’m still reading your letter… wait… what… oh… oh no…. oh nonononononono honey… don’t tell me you… ohhhhhhhhhh.  Sweetie… listen… I really hate to be the one to break this to you, but your ex-boyfriend is going to make some other woman (or man, it’s 2018 afterall) very happy.  But your idea of “I’m going to let him go free to bang other people so he learns how to bang me better” is going to blow up in your face.  

I am a white woman married to a black man. We live in a mainly white town, and I grew up knowing racism was alive and well in our town. I have a few friends left from high school but have abandoned many due to their racist views. One of my friends, “Melissa,” has never said anything overtly racist in my presence, but every single man she has ever dated has been a racist who proudly shared his views on social media. She is now pregnant and is trying to reach out for support, as she is not with the father and doesn’t have many close friends or family. Meanwhile, she recently started dating another guy who posted racist comments on social media last week.

Dear Covert Racism, how hard-up for friends are you that you’ve remained friends with someone you think, covertly, is biased against your husband because of his race and are now trying to figure out how to exploit her desperation for support during a pregnancy where the father of the child has abandoned her to confront her about your your beliefs?  I mean, of all the ways “my racist friend dates racist men and she’s asking me for help,” could go I think I’m most surprised by “how do I explain to her that I think she’s racist?”  Are you going to blow off her request for support unless she recants?  Are you going to support her through her pregnancy regardless of her dating choices?  What sort of saint, or demon, decides “This chick is pregnant with another man’s baby, I’m going to date her,”?  But, you know what, one of my guiding principles as Dudence is that I answer the question asked.  And, to that end, you stop talking to Melissa about the racism of her boyfriends, but about how that makes her look to you.  You talk about how you condemn her boyfriends as racist, but you don’t talk about how you’ve told her that makes it look like she is one too by letting it slide.  Or, in her case, letting is slide in and out and in and out (OH!).  I’m sure the isolated pregnant lady will take your criticism to heart and will handle it with grace, aplomb, and will be thankful for your help.

I was a professional dancer for about six years before I was in a car wreck that ended my career. Since then I have married and now work at a nonprofit. I was contacted by a friend who introduced me to several gifted but underprivileged dance students. I saw myself in their talent and struggles. I have taken a few on as a personal instructor and coach. I do this on my own time and pay for it from my own pocket. When my sister-in-law heard I was teaching, she got it into her head that I should include her 7- and 8-year-old daughters for free because I am family. I told her no over the phone, and then she drove over with the girls in dance gear. I told her no again and refused to let her in the door. She threw a fit and since then has been blasting me over all social media and got the rest of my in-laws on her side.

Dear Private Lessons, your problem is ceding the narrative your sister-in-law.  Well, the root problem is your sister-in-law has an outrageous sense of entitlement, but let’s deal in tactics because it’s easier.  So now you are the selfish monster who isn’t willing to help your own kin while giving yourself freely to strangers.  You have two allies in this fight and it is time you called in whatever favor you have with them.  First, you say you’re close to your mother-in-law, and even if her discussion with you was supporting her daughter, it is a reasonable tone and there is room for discussion with her on it.  Explain to your mother-in-law your reasons for who and why you’re teaching.  If you need to embellish it a bit by over-stating the time commitment you’re making then do so.  Or, and I like this option, figure out how much you’d charge for the lessons you’re providing, increase it by 50% because that is the premium you charge to mix business and family, and then double that because your sister-in-law is a bitch and that’s your “bitch” surcharge, and inform her you’ll happily give your nieces lessons.  Do like Neil Gaiman and charge enough to make it worth your while.  Sorry, I got off on a tangent here.  So, back to your mother-in-law.  What you want to do is at least get her to see reason, understand your position, agree it’s a reasonable stance and that she’ll at least get the rest of the family to back off.  And if she doesn’t come around to your point of view you’re no worse off.  Your other ally, and the one you need to be willing to go nuclear, is your husband.  Is he so far off the grid he’s unable to get internet at all?  Because if he’s not you need to get him into whatever Facebook group your in-laws are using and tell them to shut the fuck up because this situation is not your fault; he supports you completely, and his sister is off the fucking path causing this drama.  

I have been involved with a man for almost a decade. He is wonderful to me, extremely loving and attentive, and even helps me with projects around the house. We see each other several times a week, vacation together twice a year, and have a great time when we are together. We plan a future together. The problem? He is married. His wife left him for another man, which is when we got involved. She came back after she was dumped by that guy and begged to be taken back. She promised she would be kinder to him and even get a job to help out around the house, but she didn’t. She mainly sits around the house and watches TV. My guy doesn’t kick her out because he has a heart of gold and she literally has no friends and nowhere else to go, and if they divorced she would get half of his net worth. Plus, he obviously has a lot of freedom.

Dear I Should Feel Bad, I don’t think you should feel bad about what you’re doing.  You’re not the one violating wedding vows after all.  I think you should feel a bit bad that you’re getting played like a fiddle.  You want to bang some married dude, you go on with your bad self.  You want to be some guy’s Nobody, you do you.  You want to be Linda Davis to Reba McEntire, it’s a free country.  But you need to do it aware of what you are, and I don’t think you are.  Being independent and self-sufficient doesn’t make you immune to played.  He has not spent 10 years married to this pathetic, friendless, helpless woman out of the kindness of his heart, nor out of fear of losing half his wealth.  Don’t feel bad that you’re someone’s mistress; it’s a position (snicker) with a glorious history.  Feel bad that you don’t recognize that you’re a side piece.

My sister-in-law cannot control her daughter “Ally.” Her father died a few years ago, and since then Ally has made it her mission to make everyone around her as miserable as possible. She started sleeping around at 13, had an abortion at 14, and got pregnant again at 15. She has no clue who the father is. She had the baby, only to abandon him and run away for a month. She has been suspended and failed so many classes that her education level is of a seventh-grader at 16.

Dear Niece my heart breaks at this story.  That there is the teasing possibility of a happy ending, but the knowledge that there are so very, very many ways it can go completely sideways, and it being a story with no villains.  So, let’s go ahead and get to answering your question.  First, you have to accept this might be a situation where you can’t get it through to your husband.  It’s his sister’s daughter; his own blood.  He could very well believe that he can be a moderating influence in Ally’s life, or, at the very least, alleviate some of the burden on his sister by taking some of the stresses she’s feeling off her plate.  So, after you’ve established for yourself whatever boundaries you need, and the consequences for violating them, I really think you only have one course of action.  You need to pull your spousal privilege card and say “no.”  You can make a rational appeal to your husband; Ally is just going to be able to get into different kinds of trouble, you’re not able to give her the support she needs, etc etc, but it’s running into a buzzsaw of a brother wanting to help his sister.  I don’t like that course of action because it’s got a high risk of, undeservedly, making you the bad guy.  But if your husband is otherwise set to do this then I don’t see any other option.  Now, if you’re open to being persuaded that Ally isn’t beyond help then may I suggest your husband goes to his sister and Ally for a bit and see what is going to be involved in taking her in, but in her own environment.  If your husband’s influence is going to be a positive in her life, it will be so whether she’s in her mother’s home or yours.  And, maybe, your husband getting some first-hand experience dealing with her in a guardian way will disabuse him of what he’s capable of offering, or will assuage you that it is a course of action which can work.  Regardless though I think it would be good for all parties involved for you to not write off a grieving child as hopelessly broken at 16.

I got pregnant as a teenager and gave the child up. The child is now grown and knows who I am. We don’t have much of a relationship; his family is his family. But that’s not exactly my problem. When the situation was fresh, I was quite open about it. However, as time has passed, and I’ve moved away from the friends that were close to me when the trauma was occurring, I have less desire to talk about my teen pregnancy and subsequent failure at parenting. As I’ve grown into myself, I’ve decided against starting a family. I haven’t told anyone about the child (now an adult) in almost a decade.  I’m in my late 30s now and am trying to date after taking many years to focus on myself. I’ve moved far away from “home,” started a new career, and am getting to a decent place. The problem is my naked body.

Dear Childless with Stretch Marks, have you tried banging doggy style?  Sorry, that was trite but it really was the first thing that came to mind when you said you don’t like exposing your abdomen during sex.  I’m really shocked that BadPru got through two paragraphs of response to you without once suggesting you see a therapist.  Because, honestly, it sounds like your situation is one where the services of such a professional would be valuable.  A very important part of a generally healthy life is being cut-off to you because of how you feel about something which transpired two decades ago.  This is an issue which calls for the help of someone with skills beyond “Failed Humor Website Founder” or “Dude Whose Muse is Hate-reading a Failed Humor Website Founder”.  You might might find that spending some of your cosmetic surgery money on someone who can help you deal with the emotional issues surrounding your feelings about yourself will go a long way to help you deal with the cosmetic issue the surgery was to address.  

[onewfantaesy]

secret boyfriends pt.1

Taemin and Kai had been best friends since fifth grade. They practically lived at each other’s houses; they had sleepovers almost every weekend, they played video games online together, and from sixth grade until eighth grade, they would talk on the phone for almost two hours every day after school. The only reason they stopped calling each other in eighth grade was because that was when they both got cellphones, so they could text each other instead. After Taemin went over his texting plan three months in a row, his parents just decided to get unlimited texting for the whole family. It was easier than having to pay for the overages, because they all knew Taemin and Kai wouldn’t stop texting each other every moment of every day, even if they really tried not to.

The summer between their freshman and sophomore years of high school, they had their first kiss with each other behind the tree in Taemin’s backyard. They were home alone, Taemin’s brother Jinki at the mall with his friends and Taemin’s parents at a work party for Taemin’s dad. It was a weird, sort-of-wet-but-not-really peck on the lips that was over quicker than it started. 

“That was weird,” Taemin mumbled.

“Only a little bit,” Kai said.

Taemin nodded, biting his bottom lip between his teeth and staring at the grass. Kai nudged him in the side with his elbow, and he peeked through his hair to stare at Taemin’s face.

“Hell week for football starts next week,” Kai told him. “Wanna go out or something with me before then? To wish me good luck?”

Taemin snorted and nudged him back.

“Maybe,” he said. “Conditioning for dance team starts next week, too, you know.”

“We’ll both wish each other good luck, then,” Kai suggested. “We can be each other’s moral support.”

“Whatever,” Taemin snorted. “You football players are such pansies.”

“I threw up last year, you know,” Kai grumbled. “It’s literally hell.”

“And you think dance conditioning is a walk in the park?” Taemin asked, turning to him. “It’s terrible, we just don’t call it hell week because we’re not pussy-ass babies.”

“Shut up,” Kai laughed, hitting his shoulder.

By the beginning of summer sports conditioning, Taemin and Kai had decided they were “sorta-kinda a couple maybe,” but they had agreed not to tell anyone. It was a secret, they’d decided. 

“You’re not allowed to tell any of those stupid football fucks,” Taemin said the night before conditioning started. 

“Why not?” Kai whined. “Some of them are my friends.”

“I’m not gonna be the token gay sophomore on the dance team!” Taemin shouted. “And I don’t want you to get your ass kicked by those senior football douchebags.”

“Okay, okay, I won’t tell anyone,” Kai agreed. “Wanna spend the night tonight?”

“Conditioning starts at eight for me,” Taemin said.

Kai pouted at him and rolled over on his bed to rub his face in Taemin’s chest. He whined and wrapped his arms around Taemin’s tummy, and he groaned and whined and complained until Taemin agreed to spend the night.

“You’re impossible,” Taemin told him. “Let me text my mom.”

Kai hummed and turned to smile at Taemin, “You can text her after you kiss me for a little bit.”

Taemin laughed and threw his head back onto the pillows when Kai moved to straddle his waist and bent down to kiss his jaw.

“If you leave me with a hickey I’m gonna kick your ass,” Taemin warned him. 

“No promises,” Kai mumbled into Taemin’s skin.

“Do not!”

Kai only laughed and moved to kiss his lips instead.

Taemin’s mom came to pick him up and take him conditioning early the next morning. Then, when the dance team had a break and the football team was trickling in for when their conditioning started in half-an-hour, Kai went to go find Taemin. The dance team had a thirty minute break, and Kai had another twenty minutes before he had to go to the locker room to get into his practice uniform, so they met behind the weight room and sat with their backs against the wall, facing the ditch that was between the backs of the gym and weight room and the giant hedge that separated the school from the neighborhood down the hill.

“We could totally make out in that ditch,” Kai said.

“Ew, no, there’s like, water in it,” Taemin argued, looking at Kai with his eyebrows furrowed and his nose crinkled in disgust.

“There’s, like, barely any water,” Kai said. “We could sit against the cement part, and no one would see us.”

“I’m not getting my ass kicked by the football team because you wanna make out in a fucking ditch,” Taemin said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“We’ll be making out in there on the reg before the end of the week,” Kai promised him.

“Please never say ‘on the reg’ ever again,” Taemin said, rolling his eyes. “You’re so stupid.”

“You’re so stupid,” Kai argued.

“Nuh-uh,”

“Yuh-huh,”

“Nuh-”

Kai cut Taemin off by kissing him on the lips, and Taemin squeaked and scooted away from him.

“Loser,” Taemin mumbled.

Kai only let out a snort of a laugh. Taemin scooted closer again after a minute, and Kai wrapped an arm around his shoulders as they watched something on Taemin’s phone.

“You smell like sweat,” Kai teased him. 

“Shut up,” Taemin mumbled. He scooted away from Kai again and pouted at him, squeezing his arms close to his sides. “I’ve been practicing all morning, leave me alone.”

“Did you eat any food yet?” Kai asked, changing the subject. “You need to eat before you go back.”

“A couple of the moms brought us lunch,” Taemin mumbled, fiddling with his phone. 

“Did you drink enough water?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want one of my Gatorades?” 

“Stop,” Taemin said, laughing. “What’s your problem?”

“I just wanna make sure you stay hydrated,” Kai said. “It’s hot.”

“We’re practicing in the very air-conditioned gym. You’re the one who needs to stay hydrated; you’re outside all day,” Taemin said.

“Wanna make out a little bit before I have’ta go change?” 

“You’re the worst,” Taemin laughed, but he moved closer to Kai and pushed his arm into Kai’s side. “I thought you said I stink?”

“I was only kidding,” Kai whispered, moving his head close to Taemin’s cheek and giving him a little peck. “You’re salty.”

“You’re so gross!” Taemin complained, turning to glare at him. He pushed Kai away and stumbled to stand up. “I’m going back to the gym, you should go change. I’ll see you later.”

“I should sleep over tonight at your place, and then tomorrow I can watch you all morning,” Kai said, getting up and following after him.

“You’re dumb,” Taemin said, walking back towards the gym.

“Hey,” Kai called, grabbing Taemin’s hand and pulling him back. Before Taemin could say anything, Kai pressed a quick peck to his lips and smirked at him. “Have a good rest of practice.”

“You too,” Taemin whispered. “I’ll wait for you at the bleachers when my practice ends.”

“Sweet, my mom said she’ll drive us back to my place after,” Kai told him.

Two hours later, Taemin was lying down on the bleachers with his dance bag being used as a pillow, his hair still dripping from the shower he took in the locker room. A few of the football parents were sitting around watching, and Taemin made sure he wasn’t too close to them while he used his hat to keep the sun out of his face and played around on his phone.

When the football team got their lunch a few minutes later, Kai walked up the bleachers two at a time and sat down next to Taemin.

“We still have another couple hours,” Kai said, “and it’s really hot. You sure you don’t just want your mom to come get you? I can come over to yours after I shower and change and stuff.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Taemin said, stealing a grape off of Kai’s plate. “Where’s Ravi?”

“I think he’s with a couple of the others,” Kai said. “I don’t think he knows you’re here.”

Taemin pushed himself up on his elbows from where he had been lying on his stomach, and he looked around until he spotted their other friend.

“RAVI!” Taemin shouted, and he and Kai snorted when a couple of the parents near them flinched. When Ravi turned and saw Taemin and Kai on the bleachers, Taemin sat up and cupped his hands over his mouth, “C’MERE!”

“I haven’t seen you in, like, two weeks,” Ravi said as he sat down on the other side of Taemin. “Where’ve you been?”

“Mostly at Kai’s place,” Taemin shrugged, reaching over to grab some of the food off Ravi’s plate.

“Did you really only call me over here to eat my food?” Ravi asked, tugging his plate closer to himself.

“Maybe,” Taemin mumbled, making grabby-hands at the food. “C’mon, I’m hungry.”

“Ugh, fine,” Ravi groaned, handing him half of the sandwich on his plate. “You get one bite, dude. One.”

Taemin took the sandwich and turned to Kai with a smirk, “How much of this do you think I can shove in my mouth in one go?”

“Don’t!” Ravi whined, trying to grab it back.

Taemin pulled it back, laughed in Ravi’s face, and took one very modest bite of his sandwich, “I was only fucking with you.”

“You’re such a dick,” Ravi mumbled, snatching the sandwich back. “Wanna come to my place after practice and go swimming?”

“Hell yes,” Taemin agreed. 

“Who said you were invited? I was talking to Kai,” Ravi said in a snarky tone of voice.

“Wow, fuckin’ rude,” Taemin complained, shoving him away. 

Ravi only laughed in his face in the same obnoxious way Taemin had done to him just moments prior.

The end of practice for the day found Taemin going home with Kai, borrowing a pair of his swim trunks, and then going over to Ravi’s to go swimming, eat pizza, and play video games. That was how most of their hell week went; Taemin and Kai would spend the night at each other’s houses, go to school in the morning for Taemin’s practice, hang out during Taemin’s lunch break, stay through Kai’s practice, and then either go hang out at Ravi’s or the mall.

They didn’t tell Ravi they were sorta-kinda-a-couple, though. They were afraid it might ruin the dynamic of their friend group, especially if the rest of the group were to find out. 

By the time the school year started up, Taemin was still adamant about not telling anyone they were dating.

“No,” Taemin whined the day before school started. “We’re not gonna be the gays of the sophomore class, that’s not how I wanna be remembered.”

“No one even cares,” Kai tried to reason with him.

“Yes they do! Everyone cares!” Taemin said. “I’m not gonna be the fag of the dance team. Do you know how stereotypical that is? I’d get the shit beaten out of me!”

“What about me? You think I wanna be the token gay football player?” Kai argued.

“Considering you seem to wanna tell are your stupid football friends, yes!” Taemin said. “I don’t want them to kick our asses because sometimes we suck face behind the weight room!”

“Fine, okay,” Kai whispered. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

Kai sighed, but he hugged Taemin close to him and just held him for a couple minutes.

“Why are you so freaked out about this?” Kai asked.

“I don’t wanna be the gay kid, okay?” Taemin said. “Besides, we all know the biology teacher is a huge fucking asshole about that kinda shit. Didn’t you hear about what he did to that lesbian cheerleader last year? I don’t want that shit to happen to us.”

“Shit, I forgot about that,” Kai mumbled. “Okay, I get it, I’m sorry.”

Taemin sighed and nuzzled his head into Kai’s neck.

“Kiss me, stupid; before my mom comes to pick me up,” Taemin demanded.

Kai snorted, leaned his head down, and kissed the side of Taemin’s mouth.

The very beginning of the school year had gone smoothly; they sat had the same homeroom and most of the same classes, they sat at their usual lunch table in the back left corner of the lunch benches, and no one ever caught them making out in the ditch behind the weight room after their respective after-school practices. For twenty whole minutes after practice, before their moms came to pick them up, they would slide down the side of the ditch, sit on the concrete that didn’t have weird ditch-water covering it, and watch videos on Taemin’s phone and sometimes suck face. It was great. It was a good routine. 

Until a month into school when Kai left his phone on one of the benches in the locker room instead of putting it in his locker. A few of the senior football players, including Chanyeol and Baekhyun - the senior class’s resident douchebags - took his phone when they noticed a new text from someone called “The Babe™ ❤🕺🏼😍🐶💞🍜💝😜💦💕” that said, “meet me in the ditch after practice 😘😛.”

After scrolling through enough texts from this “The Babe,” they realized Kai’s little make-out buddy was none other than the guy who everyone thought was just his best friend. It really was lucky for them that Kai didn’t have a passcode on his phone. After deleting the text, they all agreed to corner to sophomore in the ditch and see what he had to say for himself.

When the five seniors slid into the ditch ten minutes after practice ended, they cornered the sophomore who looked a cross between annoyed and terrified. 

“What do you losers want?” Taemin asked, hiking his backpack further up his right shoulder.

“What are you doing down here?” Baekhyun taunted him.

“Just hanging out until my mom comes,” Taemin said. “I’ll leave if you want.”

“Just hanging out?” Chanyeol asked. “Not gonna suck face with any little friends of yours?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Taemin said, shaking his head and biting his lip.

“I think you do,” Baekhyun said.

With that, the five off them advanced on Taemin, who was trying to run and climb up the side of the ditch. Two of the others pulled him down, however, and they threw him into the ditch-water and held him down while Chanyeol and Baekhyun punched, kicked, and stomped on him. They kept calling him names like faggot, gaylord, queer, and homo, among other things. It was stupid, it was annoying, and Taemin wanted to kill Kai as his lip was busted and his left eye started to swell shut.

“Leave me the fuck alone!” Taemin screamed, trying to pull himself out of their grasp. “Fuck you, you stupid fucks!”

He ended up slipping away from them, and he ran down the ditch until he got to the point that was low enough to climb out of. He didn’t stop running until he got to the pick-up area and could hide behind one of the air-conditioning units on the side of the building. When he saw his mom’s car, he bolted towards it and hurried inside.

“Go, go, go!” Taemin told her. “Get me out of here!”

“Taemin, what the hell?” she asked. “What happened to you?

“Please, just get me home,” he begged, his eyes welling up with tears. “Please.”

“Okay, okay,” she agreed. “But you have to tell me what happened.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Taemin croaked.

“Taemin?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

When they got home, Taemin ran up to his room and locked the door. He didn’t care about his history homework or the math quiz he had the next day, he just peeled off his gross, ditch-water-and-dirt covered clothes, changed into his pajamas, and crawled into bed. He held one of his pillows close to his chest, and he yelled for his mom to leave him alone when she came knocking on his door. 

It wasn’t until his brother, Jinki, got home from choir practice and was sent by their mom to go talk to him that he finally opened his door. Jinki was persistent; he wouldn’t leave from outside Taemin’s door until Taemin swung it open and launched himself back on his bed with a shout of, “Close the door!”

“What the hell happened that’s got mom so freaked out?” Jinki asked, closing the door and sitting on the edge of Taemin’s bed.

Taemin pulled his tear-covered face out from his pillows and stared at his brother with a dramatic frown.

“I got the shit beat out of me after dance,” Taemin cried. “And I don’t wanna talk about it, so you can save your breath.”

“What the hell, Taemin?” Jinki croaked, pushing himself closer to his brother and pulling him to sit up and look at him. “Jesus Christ, who did this?”

Taemin screwed his eyes shut and sniffled miserably before he hid his face in Jinki’s shoulder.

“Those stupid football fuckhead seniors,” Taemin mumbled. “Mostly Chanyeol and Baekhyun. The other three just held me down.”

“Why?” Jinki asked, holding Taemin close to him. “Because you’re on the dance team?”

Taemin let out a miserable, strangled-sounding sob before he told Jinki, “You can’t tell anyone. No one, not even Mom and Dad - especially not Mom and Dad.”

“Okay, I won’t tell anyone,” Jinki whispered. “You can tell me anything, though. You know that, right? Like, you’re my baby brother, I’ll always take care of you.”

Taemin pulled himself away from Jinki, wiped at his face with the back of his hand, and pulled a pillow into his lap.

“So, Kai and I are sort of, were sort of,” he paused for a moment, “we were dating. Kind of. Mostly we just sucked face behind the weight room during conditioning and like at his house all summer, and then after practice we sometimes meet in the ditch behind the weight room and kiss there.”

“Wow, what the fuck, Taemin?” Jinki asked. “And you didn’t tell me? What the hell, I told you when I was dating that senior chick last year! Were you just gonna not tell me?”

“You weren’t dating a boy!” Taemin argued. “I didn’t wanna tell anyone! And I told Kai not to say anything, and he promised he wouldn’t, especially not to the football team because I didn’t wanna be ‘The Gay Kid,’ but then I texted him today to meet me in the ditch today and then they showed up and there’s no way they could have known why I was there unless he told them, and this is exactly why I didn’t wanna tell anyone.”

By the end of his little rant, Taemin was crying again, so Jinki just held him close again and rubbed his arm.

“I told him not to tell anyone and he did and I got the shit beat out of me and I knew it was gonna happen and I told him not to but he did anyway and now I don’t know what to do,” Taemin cried. “Everyone’s gonna know by tomorrow. Everyone.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” Jinki stuttered.

“No it’s not,” Taemin cried, hiding his face in Jinki’s shoulder. “You can’t tell Mom and Dad.”

“I won’t, I won’t tell anyone,” Jinki promised. “Put your shoes on, loser, we’re going for a drive.”

“I don’t want to,” Taemin whined.

“Too bad, I’m pulling my big brother privilege and forcing you to go on a drive with me,” Jinki said, pulling Taemin off the bed.

Taemin groaned the whole way down the stairs, but he stayed quiet when they walked by where their parents were sitting in the living room.

“We’re going on a drive, can we have McDonald’s money?” Jinki asked.

Their mom gave in easily, and she handed them a crisp twenty-dollar-bill while telling them not to stay out too late.

“And Taemin?” their dad called. “Are you alright?”

“M’fine,” Taemin mumbled, staying hidden behind Jinki.

With that, Jinki pulled him out of the house and out to his car. After going through the McDonald’s drive-thru and getting large sodas, chicken nuggets, fries, and McFlurries, Jinki played his “Fuck You” Spotify playlist for them to sing along to while they drove around town. Taemin would feed Jinki fries and nuggets so he could keep both hands on the wheel, and the two of them screamed the songs out of the windows as they drove by Chanyeol and Baekhyun’s houses.

“Wanna egg ‘em?” Jinki asked.

“Fuck yeah,” Taemin agreed, and they stopped by the 7-11 to buy a six pack of eggs. 

They threw three eggs at each of their houses, but mostly aimed them at the cars Chanyeol and Baekhyun drove to school. After pulling over a block away from Chanyeol’s house, Taemin found the window-markers they used to decorate their mom’s car on Mother’s Day last year and snuck around with their hoods over their heads and masks covering their noses and mouths. They drew no less than three dicks on Chanyeol’s car windows, including the windshield, which also got a nice pair of hairy balls. 

They then did the same to Baekhyun’s car twelve blocks away. When they got home, they took the markers inside, hid them in the bottom drawer of their bathroom cabinet, and told their parents they just drove around while eating chicken nuggets.

When Jinki drove himself and Taemin into the student parking lot the next day, they snorted at the sight of Chanyeol and Baekhyun’s dick-covered cars.

Their joy was short-lived, however, when Taemin got to his locker and saw papers taped to the front that read a flurry of slurs and crude drawings. He ripped them off quickly, but people had already seen and were pointing and whispering at him as he dumped them in the trash can closest to his cluster of lockers.

“Everyone saw,” Taemin choked out as Jinki put an arm around his shoulders.

“It’s gonna be fine,” Jinki said quickly. “C’mon, come to my locker with me. I’ll walk you to homeroom when the bell rings.”

“Can I sit at your table at lunch?” Taemin asked as they walked up the stairs. “I don’t wanna sit with Kai today.”

“Yeah, course,” Jinki said.

Taemin ignored Kai all throughout homeroom, all throughout their shared second and third period classes, and then walked straight to Jinki’s table at lunch. 

“What the hell happened to you?” Jinki’s friend Key asked as he sat down.

“None of your business,” Taemin snapped.

“Jeez, calm down,” Key said, putting his hands up. “Was only curious.”

“Hey, wanna egg the shit out of Chanyeol and Baekhyun’s houses this weekend?” Jinki asked his friends.

“Not that I’m not down,” Jonghyun said, “but why?”

“They’re fuckheads, that’s why,” Jinki said.

“Does whatever’s wrong with your brother’s face have to do with their dickmobiles that I saw in the parking lot this morning?” Key asked.

“Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t,” Jinki shrugged. “You down or not?”

“Definitely,” Key agreed.

“Hey, Taemin,” Kai’s voice called, and Jinki and Taemin turned around to see Kai hurrying towards their lunch table. “What’s wrong with you? Why’re you ignoring me?”

“Get the fuck away from me,” Taemin spat before turning back around.

“Hey, gaylords,” Chanyeol’s voice sang, and he slumped an arm over Kai’s shoulders before grabbing Taemin as well. “How are my two favorite fags today?”

“Fuck off,” Taemin said.

“What the fuck?” Kai asked. “What the hell is going on?”

“Get away from my brother,” Jinki said, standing up and shoving Chanyeol away from his table.

“What are you gonna do, draw more dicks on my car?” Chanyeol taunted.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jinki said. “Now get the fuck away from my brother before I pound your face in, fugly.”

“Whatever,” Chanyeol muttered, and he pulled Baekhyun’s shoulder to drag him back over to their usual lunch table.

“Taemin, what the hell was that?” Kai asked, trying to sit down next to Taemin.

“I said get away from me!” Taemin shouted, shoving Kai away. “You’re an asshole! Go away!”

“Taemin-”

“Get away from my little brother,” Jinki warned him. “Now.”

Kai looked between Taemin and Jinki before mumbling, “Sorry,” under his breath and shuffling back to the table where Ravi and their other friends were watching.

That weekend, Taemin went out with Jinki’s friends at one in the morning to wrap Chanyeol and Baekhyun’s cars in plastic wrap, cover their lawns in silly string, and spell out “FUCKBOY PISSBABY” in plastic forks that they staked into their front lawns.

By the next week, they were in an all-out war with Baekhyun and Chanyeol. Their lockers were constantly covered in insults and crude drawings every morning, but every night, Taemin and Jinki would retaliate by doing something to their cars. Everyone knew that the Lee brothers were fighting with the senior class douchebags, but no one knew exactly why. Most people were starting to think that Chanyeol and Baekhyun calling Taemin a faggot was just them trying to insult him, and almost no one actually thought Taemin was actually gay anymore.

Taemin still wasn’t sitting with his friends at lunch, even though the gay rumors died down by the end of the second week.

“Will you just tell me what’s going on?” Kai asked as he cornered Taemin in the hallway at lunch. “Why are you and your brother fighting with those two? Everyone knows about it.”

“You know why,” Taemin hissed. “Fuck you. I told you not to tell anyone!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Kai argued. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

“You told them I would be in the ditch after practice,” Taemin said through clenched teeth. “And you told them why I would be there!”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kai pleaded. “I’m serious, I never told them anything!”

“Then how’d they know I’d be there, and why’d the beat the shit out of me while calling me a faggot?” Taemin cried. “I fucking hate you, leave me alone.”

With that, Taemin stalked off towards Jinki’s lunch table, and the thoughts Kai had of asking Taemin to homecoming were flushed right down the shitter.

And Kai still had no idea what Taemin was talking about, or why Chanyeol and Baekhyun were in this was with Taemin and his brother.

[icanseeyourholo]

‘We did not cuddle!’ I exclaimed even though I knew full well that we did. ‘My bed’s just really small and I’m not used to having someone in there with me, is all,’ I tried to defend myself but it only made him grin wider.

‘Keep telling yourself that, Emilia,’ he said and winked at me like the little shit he was, ‘and just so you know… I didn’t mind it one bit.’

this is part two. read part one here.

‘I’m not letting you in my bed like that anyway,’ I told Harry for what had to be the sixteenth time in the last half hour. I was sweeping the floor of the bar and he kept bugging me about when I’d finally be done for the night, what movie we were going to watch and if he’d be allowed to eat snacks in bed.

We had fallen into some kind of routine ever since that night five weeks ago that Harry had walked me home. He’d wait for me until my shift was over and then we’d walk the twenty  or so minutes to my place where we’d watch a movie or videos of baby animals on the internet or we’d listen to music and talk nonsene until we both fell asleep.

The first two times I had made Harry sit, respectively sleep, on the floor in front of my bed. I was no monster of course, so I gave him pillows and a blanket but he was not allowed in my bed and he accepted that without any complaints.

Then the third time he had spent the night he ‘accidentally’ tripped and fell onto my bed and when I told him to get up he pretended to have fallen asleep. I knew he was only pretending because the two other times he had stayed the night and he really was sleeping, he had been snoring all through the night and this time he was completely silent save for his breathing.

I might have been tired but I was not stupid. I let him sleep in my bed anyway.

The fourth time he had stayed over he got comfortable on my bed right away. He had plopped himself down and just grinned at me to which I had rolled my eyes and that was that. I had left him there to go to the bathroom to change into something more comfortable, brush my teeth and wash my face. When I had gotten back out I saw that he had arranged my pillows just like I always did before I got to bed and that my blanket was folded back on one side, ready for me to cuddle into it. A small smile played on my face when I made my way over to the bed.

Harry was laying on ‘his’ side of the bed, fully clothed and phone in his hands and I was almost tempted to tell him he should just take his pants off because it’d be more comfortable that way but I was too tired to deal with his cheeky comments about me just trying to get him naked or whatever so I had bit my tounge.

We had watched a movie, talked a bit, accidentally cuddled one time during the night and then had breakfast the next morning. The only pieces of clothing Harry had shed were his socks and everything was very friendly and casual up until the point he was about to leave my flat and I got up on my tiptoes as he bent down a little to hug me and our lips brushed against each other’s in a very innocent but not exactly friendly kiss either. Not him nor me had planned this. It had happened absentmindedly, as if it were the most natural thing for us to do. We both stepped back in surprise, eyes wide and without another word from either of us Harry left and I had no idea what the fuck had happened.

The fact that we hadn’t exchanged phone numbers, or any other social media, worked in our favor. We hadn’t talked or seen each other all week so there was no way for us to chew out this whole accidental kiss thing. Even if there might have been some awkwardness between us, by the time the next Friday rolled around it had dissolved into thin air and we were back to our usual banter. We had both apparently decided that it was not a big deal. I think that if Harry had approached me to talk about the matter I wouldn’t have known what to say anyway so I was glad the problem, if it ever was one, had solved itself.

‘It’s just a little beer,’ he argued and looked down at his shirt.

‘The whole front is completely soaked and it stinks. No chance in hell I’m letting you anywhere near my bed like that,’ I told him with one hand on my hip and the other holding the broomstick.

‘You know, I could always take it off,’ he said with a cheesy grin on his face, wriggling his eyebrows at me.

‘Nice try, pal,’ I scoffed but turned my head to the side in a feeble attempt to hide my blush.

I probably wouldn’t have minded if he took his shirt off. Okay, I definitely wouldn’t have minded if he took his shirt off before he got into bed with me but I was not ready to let him know that.

Beside that one time during the night where I woke up with my head on his chest, his arm around my back and our feet tangled together or the accidental goodbye kiss, there had been next to zero physical contact. Harry would never touch me inappropriately, at least not consciously, and I guess the little cuddle during the night was better left not spoken about. I knew that he would never touch me without my consent even if I hadn’t witnessed him punching someone for that exact reason.

I was surprisingly okay with his cheeky comments that, to my frustration and his delight, never failed to get me flustered but I was anxious that if one of us brought up the cuddling it would lead to us talking about the kiss and I was so not in the mood for that.

‘Come on, you wouldn’t let a little spilt beer get in the way of spending some quality time with your cuddle buddy,’ he said and I whipped my head around.

‘What?’ I asked dumbly.

‘We both know we cuddled the other night,’ he shrugged and acted as if it wasn’t a big deal.

Maybe it wasn’t a big deal to him but given the position I found myself in when I awoke that night it must have been me that snuggled up to him and it was embarrassing to say the least.

‘We did not cuddle!’ I exclaimed even though I knew full well that we did. ‘My bed’s just really small and I’m not used to having someone in there with me, is all,’ I tried to defend myself but it only made him grin wider.

‘Keep telling yourself that, Emilia,’ he said and winked at me like the little shit he was, ‘and just so you know… I didn’t mind it one bit.’

I needed to stop this conversation right there because I could feel it in my toes that the next thing coming out of his mouth would have had something to do with him also ‘not minding one bit’ that I had kissed him. Or he had kissed me. Or we had kissed each other. It didn’t make a difference, did it?

‘Whatever,’ I rolled my eyes at him again before I said ‘I have stuff to do. Don’t wait up.’

With that I turned on my heel and left him standing there with that stupid grin and his stupid dimples on his stupid face and… ugh, he was so annoying.

I bent over to shake my hair out before I threw it up in a bun and started putting glasses and bottles back on their respective spots on the shelves behind the bar. When I turned around I saw Harry sitting down on one of the barstools, smiling widely at me even though I shot him what I hoped to be my most ‘I’m annoyed with you don’t talk to me’-look.

‘Why am I not surprised that you’re still here even though we closed ten minutes ago?’ I huffed when five minutes had passed and he still hadn’t moved from his spot. He had been watching me while I cleaned up the mess of glasses, cut up fruit and empty bottles.

I felt his eyes on me with every move I made and while I thought it was a bit weird that he seemed so interested in how I went about tidying up the bar, it didn’t make me uncomfortable. Instead he almost looked at me with what I would describe as fondness.

‘We both know I wouldn’t leave without at least making sure you got home safe,’ he said matter-of-factly.

‘I don’t need a babysitter, Harry,’ I put my hands on my hips and cocked my head to the side ‘I made it home safe all these other nights before you decided to tag along.’ My voice sounded a lot softer than I intended it to. Whether it was because I was tired or because deep down I thought he was cute for caring I didn’t know.

‘I know you don’t but if it means I can sleep better knowing you made it home in one piece I’ll deal with your moody ass,’ he explained and I swear my heart did not flutter at his statement.

Suddenly, it hit me again. The tiny but significant fact that he had a crush on me.

Apparently, it was not just a phase or whatever I had tried to tell myself in order to not get hurt because even if I hadn’t really admitted it to myself yet, deep down it felt like maybe I had developed a crush on him, too.

‘You’re not staying over tonight,’ I told him firmly and he pouted. It did not affect me in the least. (It did.)

‘Your decision,’ he shrugged, ’but I am walking you home, end of,’ he said and I sighed.

‘I’m off in ten,’ I mumbled and right before I turned to walk back into the staff room I caught a glimpse of his victorious smile.

Somehow Harry had weaseled his way into my flat even though I could have sworn I had told him at least three times that he would not be staying over that night. Maybe it was a secret, special talent of his.

It was not that I didn’t want him to stay over, I did. I just needed to think about what I expected from him and also what he might be expecting from me in return.

Was he interested in something casual, like friends with benefits? Did he want something more? Had he just made up the whole crush thing in order to get me to sleep with him? I didn’t want to think about him like that but the thoughts wouldn’t go away. I had tried so hard to shake the feeling of being one amongst many but it was nagging at me.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ I asked him with raised eyebrows.

He had started to unbutton his shirt and given that he only had three buttons done up to begin with, he was now standing in the middle of my room, shirt open and his torso with all those tattoos scattered across on full display.

‘You said I couldn’t get into bed with my dirty shirt on so…’ he said and motioned with one hand up and down in front of him in a way of explaining why he was about to undress himself.

‘Yeah but I didn’t tell you to just get naked!’ I breathed out an incredulous laugh.

‘Please don’t make me sleep on the floor again,’ he whined.

‘Has the thought that you have a perfectly fine bed waiting for you at home ever crossed your mind?’ I questioned while I rummaged through the drawers of my sideboard.

‘I mean… yeah but… you wouldn’t be in it,’ he mumbled and I turned around to look at him.

I was surprised to see that his cheeks were a little flushed and that he was trying very hard to look anywhere but at me.

‘Fine,’ I sighed, ‘but you’re not sleeping naked. I’m sure I have a t-shirt in here somewhere that’ll fit you.’

He appeared at my side in about 0.3 seconds and even though I didn’t look at him I knew that he was smiling his biggest Cheshire-cat smile. He had won again and I silently cursed him.

‘I want the Spice Girls t-shirt,’ he demanded and I snorted.

‘Absolutely not,’ I shot him a look before I kept on searching.

‘It’s either the Spice Girls t-shirt or I’m going to sleep in just my boxers, it’s up to you,’ he bargained and I turned around to face him fully.

‘Dude, that is called blackmail and it’s illegal,’ I mentioned in case he was unfamiliar with that concept.

He just shrugged and said ‘It’s your choice, dude,’ he mocked my choice of word, ‘Choose wisely.’

I sighed dramatically and rolled my eyes before I tossed the t-shirt he had requested at him.

‘It’s my favorite sleeping shirt,’ I told him with my forefinger pointing in his face, ‘please try not to ruin it.’

I grabbed a tank top and shorts for myself and stomped my feet on my way to the bathroom.

He was so annoying.

Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw when I returned to my bedroom after I got changed.

Harry was standing in the middle of the room, wearing tiny and very tight-fitting, grey boxers and my Spice Girls t-shirt. Only the t-shirt, that when I wore it reached my hips, didn’t even reach his belly button and looked like it would burst at the seems if he would do so much as breathe.

I burst out laughing and nearly fell to the floor because he looked so ridiculous.

‘It’s a bit… small,’ he said sheepishly with a faint blush on his cheeks.

‘A bit?’ I asked through another fit of giggles. ‘It’s basically a crop top on you.’

‘It didn’t look so small on you,’ he whined and looked down at himself, trying to pull the fabric over his stomach. ‘I’m scared it’ll rip if I move too much.’

‘Then you better not move. I’ll punch you if you rip it!’ I warned and walked up to him.

‘I’d like to see you try, little one.’ He took a step towards me and I had to tilt my head back to look up at his face. He was smirking and I felt hot all over my body.

I was painfully aware of how little clothing we both wore, how close we were and how absolutely sexy he looked even in the ridiculously tiny shirt.

‘Bed!’ I practically yelled at him. I was trying to break the tension but ordering him to bed was definitely not the right way to do so.

‘Your wish is my command, Emilia,’ he chuckled and turned around to walk over to my bed.

The t-shirt strained over the muscles in his back and his bum looked extremely cute in his tiny briefs and I gulped.

Okay, so I definitely had a crush on him and I was definitely very much sexually attracted to him.

I watched him try to get into bed without moving too much in order to not rip my shirt. He looked absolutely bananas and before I could stop myself I blurted out ‘Just take it off!’

Harry’s head whipped around and he looked at me with an expression on his face that was both surprised and amused.

‘Since you asked so nicely,’ he mocked me with a grin and grabbed the back of the shirt with one hand and took it off slowly.

Oh. Boy.

‘I’ll get snacks,’ I muttered and turned around quickly to go into the kitchen.

He was so hot and I was so turned on.

I needed a moment to collect myself.

I grabbed some crackers, a banana, two granola bars with chocolate chips, half a pint of Ben&Jerry’s Cookie Dough ice cream and a spoon. Basically I grabbed everything my tiny kitchen had to offer because I had no idea what Harry was in the mood for and I definitely needed enough food to distract me from the (almost) naked and very, very good-looking Harry in my bed.

When I thought I had everything we needed I made my way back to my room where I nearly dropped all the items I had cradled in my arms at the sight I was met with.

There he was, laying on top of the covers of course because why would he make this any easier for me? His long, lean and toned body was strechted out on my bed and practically asking me to throw myself at him. I didn’t but I really wanted to.

I huffed out a breath through my nose which caused Harry to look up from my laptop where he presumably had been looking for something we could watch.

He gave me an easy, relaxed smile but it did nothing to release the tension I felt all over my body.

‘This is all I got,’ I said as I knelt down on the bed. ‘I say we start with the ice cream for obvious reasons and then it’s up to you.’

Harry sat up and I tried not to look at his abs but I failed. He caught me staring but for once he didn’t say anything. Instead he grabbed the pint of ice cream from my hands and told me to peel the banana.

I followed his orders without question and when I had it peeled he grabbed it from my hands and started putting chunks of it into the container of ice cream he had balanced on his thigh. That was when I noticed another tattoo I had not seen before.

‘It’s a thighger’, he said when he noticed where I was looking at.

‘Oh god that is so lame!’ I giggled and he grinned at me.

‘Come on, it’s funny, innit?’ he said with a face full of smiles and dimples and my tummy filled with butterflies at the sight of it.

‘Not even a little,’ I said even though the giggle that bubbled up from inside me suggested otherwise. Harry kept on mixing the ice-cream with chunks of banana and I got comfortable with my back against the headboard and my knees pulled towards my chest.

‘Try this,’ he said and shoved a spoonful of his ice-cream-banana creation in my mouth.

I moaned out loud when the creamy deliciousness came in contact with the tastebuds on my tounge. Harry shot me a look, wide-eyed and biting his bottom lip before he cleared his throat.

‘This is amazing, oh my god give me more,’ I begged and leaned over to him in order to grab the spoon from him.

‘Hey don’t be greedy,’ he slapped my hand away, ‘one for you, one for me,’ he said before he pointedly fed himself a spoonful.

‘Should’ve brought another spoon,’ I pouted and crossed my arms in front of my chest.

‘I’ll feed you,’ he said and scooped some more ice-cream.

‘I’m not a child!’ I protested to which he replied ‘Then stop pouting like one!’

He offered me the spoon and I opened my mouth but he pulled it back a little and giggled when I closed it again with furrowed brows and my lips involuntarily formed into a pout again.

‘Very funny,’ I huffed.

‘Your pouty face is priceless,’ he said and there it was again, the fondness with which he looked at me every now and then.

I felt my face get hot under his gaze but because we were in such close proximity there was nothing I could do to hide it.

‘And I feel like I hit the jackpot whenever you blush at something I say,’ he continued, his eyes never leaving my face.

I wanted to tease him back, keep the easy banter up but instead I asked him ‘Why are you here?’

I had been dying to ask this question everytime he had stayed over in the last few weeks but I never did because I wasn’t sure what kind of answer I was hoping for.

‘Uhm, to watch a movie, to sleep… I guess?’ he answered and for the first time ever I could tell that he was unsure of what to say.

‘No, I mean….yeah but… why do you keep coming with me? What do you want?’ I inquired further now that I had the guts to finally ask him.

‘I want to spend time with you,’ he said and shrugged, his brows now furrowed and his eyes trained on mine.

‘That’s it?’ I asked him.

‘What is this about?’ he asked in return and put the ice cream container on my night stand.

‘I just… I just want to know what you’re expecting from me,’ I answered quietly.

He took a few seconds before he answered.

‘I expect nothing, Emilia, I swear,’ he said earnestly and when he realised I wasn’t going to say anything he kept talking.

‘I already told you that I like you and that has not changed, quite the opposite, actually. I like seeing you at the bar, I like talking to you and I really like hanging out here with you. I want to get to know you but I already told you that, too. I just… I like being with you in every sense of the word. I know you thought of me as some kind of fuckboy or whatever the kids say these days,’ he gave me a toothy grin before he continued, ‘but I was hoping that had changed.’

It was silent between us for a minute or two. We were both looking at our hands in our respective laps, neither knowing what to say.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said after I cleared my throat, ‘I meant it when I said that my opinion of you has changed. I guess it’s in my nature to question everyone’s motives. I-…you…you make me…,’ my breath hitched in my throat, ‘you make me hella nervous,’ I admitted and his head whipped around to face me fully.

‘I make you nervous?’ he asked and I nodded.

‘Why?’ he wanted to know and I could tell from the look in his eyes that he was absolutely clueless.

‘You-,’ I started, ‘you’re… you-,’ I tried again but I couldn’t put into words what he did to me.

‘Am I making you uncomfortable?’ he asked and made a move to get up from the bed. ‘Do you want me to leave? I didn’t mean to-’

I grabbed his hand and pulled him back down.

‘No, stay,’ I whispered, my face beet-red, before I finally told him ‘You make me nervous because… well, I- I think I like you, too.’

A second passed before I added the one thing I never thought to ever admit to Harry Styles’ face ‘And you’re hot.’

I took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down my rapidly beating heart but when he started tracing my knuckles with his thumb it skipped a beat altogether.

‘You’re hot, too,’ he chuckled and shot me a toothy grin. I grabbed a pillow with my free hand and smacked him right in the face.

We both giggled like idiots and while it felt nice to have gotten the weight off my chest I was still slightly nervous about what would happen between us now.

‘While were at this whole telling each other what we’re feeling thing I’d like to add that I’m not happy with our first kiss.’ He tried to keep a straight face but his mouth twitched at the corners.

‘Stop!’ I exclaimed. I groaned internally at that awkward accidental kiss that happened a week ago.

It was not a bad kiss per sé. It was just… Well, it’s not how I pictured a kiss with Harry would feel like.

‘What? I just think it should’ve been more like this,’ he whispered and slid his hands under my ears so that he could pull my face towards his.

Our noses were touching and I closed my eyes in anticipation.

He pecked my lips once, twice and so very gentle that I felt my insides turn into a gooey mess before he silently asked me to open my mouth with his thumb on my chin.

When our tongues met for the first time I think I might have passed out for a nano second.

His kiss tasted like banana and cookie dough and his lips were soft and his tongue demanding but not overwhelming and I felt myself scoot closer to him until my knees hit his thigh and in the heat of the moment I threw my leg over his lap and straddled him. My hands grabbed the hair at the back of his neck and he slid his down the sides of my body until they came to stop at my waist where he squeezed a bit in what I assumed to be encouragement.

My bum came to rest on his thighs and I felt myself get greedy. I wanted more, more, more and I tilted my head this way and that way to be able to kiss him from every angle possible. When that didn’t feel like enough anymore I let my mouth trail along his jaw until I reached his earlobe which I nipped at a little with my teeth. I felt his grip on my hips tighten and so I whsipered into his ear ‘Is this okay?’

‘Y-yeah’, he breathed out and nodded, his hands still holding me tight against his body.

‘How’s that for a first kiss?’ I asked him teasingly in between soft little kisses to his neck.

‘I think I forgot how to breathe for a moment,’ he said breathlessly to which I giggled and pulled back to look at him.

‘I like kissing you,’ I said and traced his bottom lip with my thumb. ‘You’re a very good kisser.’

‘I… y-you…you,’ he stammered and I noticed how blown out his pupils were and that he seemed to have a hard time finding his words. That was a first.

‘You okay in there?’ I asked and tapped my finger against his temple.

‘It was amazing, you are amazing,’ he babbled and grabbed my face once again. ‘Kiss me. Kiss me again, please.’

I ran my fingers through his hair and joined our lips together again. This time it was heated right from the get go. Harry let his hands wander down the sides of my body again, only this time he didn’t stop at my waist. He wrapped his arms around my hips and gave my butt one gentle squeeze. In response to his gesture I grinded my hips against his.

Harry pulled back suddenly, breathing heavily and his eyes wide.

‘Can we keep doing this? I just wanna kiss you, don’ wanna stop kissing you… we can take our time with everything else, yeah?’ he asked while his hands roamed up and down my back and his eyes bore into mine.

I felt a bit disappointed at first but then again not really. He could’ve gotten it right then and there and I’m sure it woud have been amazing but the prospect of having him around for a while and getting to experience all kinds of physical intimacy step by step along the way made my heart flutter in my chest.

He wasn’t looking for a one-time thing and neither was I. For now, I was content with just making out. We had all the time in the world and if anything, the anticipation of what was to come just made this better, more exciting.

I nodded and grinned at him before I asked ‘Why aren’t you kissing me then?’

He flipped us over and settled himself down between my legs, my head cradled in his hands and his eyes scanning my face before he dipped his head and kissed me silly.

[tellywoodtrash]

ishqbaaz 22.09.17 lb

not really feeling particularly witty or… anything really. so who knows what the fuck this is going to be. also no emojis. they take like half an hour extra. fuck that. read everything in the most deadpan voice ever, coz that’s how i’m feeling. 

the humidity’s gotten to surbhi’s hair. you can see the difference between her real hair and the extensions super clearly. 

lmao gauri, such a drama queen. i love her so muchhh.

i really like anika’s shirt/kurta thingy. i want.

what ajeeb aunties, why are they following her to the bathroom??? 

OH HO ANIKAAAAAAAAAAA

jai ho sree sree 1008 kanji aankhon waale billu baba ka, who anticipated wife might need to do some on-the-fly locksmith-ing and provided a swiss army knife.

ok barely 2 minutes in, and the sound editing is already pissing me off. 

billuji ka “the wife is in danger. again. as always.” radar has gone off. 

om’s soul has left his body, that’s how fucking bored and done he is with ring shopping. #same tbh

why the fuck would you want some ancient stolen ring, bruh? that shit prolly has a curse put on it. 

i legit wanted this scene to be stolen from friends, for shviaay to leave to go save the girls, and om to end up in a cage like phoebe. that would have been fucking hilaaaarious 

this girl playing suman is soooo fucking pretty. and i appreciate that they’ve kept her dusky skin intact and haven’t tried to lighten the fuck outta her. 

give suman a show of her own! 

what horrible editingggggggg, why would you show the phone ringing on that end before this scene of her calling him? like honestly.

ok suman, stop ending every sentence with “di”. it’s annoying. 

oufffffffffff loud aunties and their darwaza peetna. 

that’s one faaaaaancy ghusalkhaana, gauri. 

no indian railway station waiting room is that fancy. have they even seen an indian railway station? 

bhavya you idiot, that’s called gut instinct and you should never ignore it. have you ever seen shivaay ignore his anika radar? 

i interrupt this broadcast to ask you a vital question: should i fill my depression hole with cake or chips? or make some popcorn? sweet? salty??? or should i just accept where i am in life and crumble the chips and cake INTO the popcorn and kill all the birds with one stone?  

(goddamnit my skin just cleared up this week. fuck me and my bad life choices.) 

GOD THAT’S ANIKA ISN’T IT???????? THIS BITCH LIKES TO FUCKING REPLACE EVERYYYYYYYYY DAMN BRIDE IN THIS SHOW. 

YUP. KNEW IT.

who the fuck is this random aunty giving reproductive advice to rudra in a railway station waiting room? what the fuck is wrong with desis? 

this annoying child is lucky he’s so stinking cute, or someone would have murdered him for being such a wiseass. 

the humidity has done the opposite on shrenu’s hair - the extensions are all frizzy, and her original hair is still silky smooth. girl how? leak your routine plz. 

omkara you naalaayak dheent fucker PICK UP THE FUCKING PHONE

OMFG HE DIDN’T JUST PULL THE “WE’RE ON BREAK” CARD. BOY, I WILL LEGIT KICK YOUR DAMN ASS FROM HERE TO BAREILLY IF I HAVE TO 

ANIKA THIS IS NOT A SMILEY WINKY SITUATION THIS IS A FUCKING YOU’RE GOING TO GET MARRIED TO A RANDOM TALLI BUDDDHA IF YOU DON’T GET THE FUCK OUTTA THERE RN SITUATION

“phatphatiiii maiyya” 

shivaay’s too busy staring at the stupid ring. i swear the man is really a cat. easily distracted by shiny things. 

god. idhar antakshari chal rahi hai. is gul single handedly trying to revive the dead game of antakshari? why do they play it so much in this damn show?

uncle so besuraaaaaaaaaaaa 

ok fwding this nonsense. 

great, mukhiya has seen anika’s chikni chameli chandni whatever 

greaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaattttttt. the cat is out the bag. the anika’s out the ghoongat. (have i said this before?? i feel like i have. i probably have. this girl’s replaced so many brides, i’ve lost count.) 

shivaay’s finally gotten out the damn ring shop and looked at his phone. 

apparently we’re also in the year 2014, since shivaay’s suddenly using an iphone 5s outta nowhere. 

no she’s most definitely not theeeeeeeeeek. didn’t you hear her scream???? 

great. it’s waaaaaay past 1 am and my cat is screaming too. i know that feel, cat-son, but as an adult human, i have to do it on the inside. but you do you, i guess. *puts on headphones* 

ok this pirate mukhiya is ridiculoussssly OTT 

ok anika, stop with the pati crap. since when are you like this? you used to be a badass all on your own. and you have gauri with you too! pati pati pati, pffft. ugh, this is why everyone hates couples. 

bansi kaka gives zero fucks about the oberoi bahu about to be shot right in front of him. best. what khatirdaari. 

omfg gauri’s bhaujaiiiii yell just added 10 years to my godforsaken life. gauri is my everything. my everything. i love her so much. ‘

lol anika’s in her elementtttttttttttt once on scootyyyyy. just look at her “bitch come mess with me now” face

omfg suman you stupid girl why are you back here???????

ok fwding this ruvya nonsense. 

literally just watching this svetVi plot for my queen’s amazing face. what a face. gosh. i am so in love with her. 

god fuck you jhanvi. you’re so stupid, you deserve to go to jail even if you didn’t do it. 

WHAT OBEROIS KA RAAZ INSIDE PAINTING WHAT THE FUCK EVEN IS THIS STUPIDASS PLOT GODDDDDDD

do they know the raaz? tej and jhanvi i mean? 

ok this episode is called “svetlana’s sneaky escape” but that wasn’t even sneaky? she just literally threw something at him and ran away. zero sneak involved. just quick reflexes. 

back to ruvya nonsense. fwding. 

my mind won’t stop playing that stupid trippy trippy hickey hickey song on repeat. what a horrible yet addictive fucking song. 

OH GUN KA SHOT LAAGE LU GANDA THOUGHT LAAGE LU OH BABY HOT LAAGE LU NOW TELL ME WHAT TO DO?!?!?

ok done fwding. 

khanna waale actor ka contract renegotiate hua hai kya? he’s getting a lottttt of footage these days. 

OMFG KHANNA YOU’RE THE WORSTTTTTTTTTTTT SRSLY. A MOULDY POTATO CAN DO THIS JOB BETTER THAN YOU

pinky is selecting her jewelry for shivaay’s shaadi? reallllly? she’s so happy to be part of the wedding? 

has she made palti back on to the good side and is just playing svetlana? god, with pinky i can never tell. i just accept whatever. 

svetlana may be on the run, but she completely switched up her outfit and makeup like the queen that she is. love it. love that commitment. meanwhile, i would wear the jammies i slept in even to work if i could. 

here, have some more of svetlana’s flawless face: 

dadi who the fuck even is left in the house to scream? there’s literally only one woman in the house rn.

yes, teaaaaaam up, my two evil queeeens. 

lmaooooooooooo pinky’s look at svetlana when she said she might hit her up for more cash. 

ugh more of this ruvya crap. 

oh apparently tej is back as tej. what phuski end to that track. 

every time dadi says “is ghar mein sabbbbbbbb kuch theek ho gaya”, a new disaster comes. can she not? 

fwding this garbage, where are my girls and are they ok??? 

what even is this stupid ruvya track ouffffffff fwdingggggggggggggg

GREAT. FWD KARTE KARTE EPISODE HI KHATAM HO GAYA 

aaaaaaaaand the phatphati is outta gas or whatever. great. 

on the bright side it’s raining and we might get a rain hug for our couples? no? i’m just clinging onto the last vestiges of my hope wrt this show? yeah, sounds about right. 

[ts3storylines]

TS3 Freedom’s call Generation I: Chapter V

Beginning // Chapter 4 // Chapter 6

Chapter V: A thunder

It rained hardcore ouside. The waves splashed everything with their disgusting radioactive content and the drops’ colour became kind of blueish-green. Wet dust was swirling by a force of uncontrollable tangues of wind.

It was quater past seven am, a month after Cain’s arrival day.

A woman sat on a cloudy white podium. Heels too high for her already high figure, hair too fancy for the scientist’s coat she was wearing.

“I welcome you, my dear friends. We have not seen each other for a long time.”

Her majestic voice filled an entire office room. 

5 people welcomed her with a slight applause.

“I’m glad there are still so many participants of the original programme. But for the new-comers..” She smiled kindly on two young faces at the end of a table. “My name is Adraynna Drake. Today we met because of a special project which we have started only three months ago. Not going to waste any second. I’d like you to tell me about your latest progress. And even though we don’t have enough time, please tell me and the others everything important. Leave the skipped materials here. Darius will collect the data from your chips.”

The meeting ended after an hour. Everything that should have been told was already in Darius’s holomind. Adraynna Drake thanked the robot and ordered him to sent the data directly to her drive. All of the scientists, doctors and officers left, but one.

“Dr. Wuritch, please sit down. I’ve got exactly 7 minutes before the next shift. Have you collected the data that I wanted?”

Dr. Quin Wuritch paniced. He was afraid of the woman. And who would blame him. Adraynna Drake, a wife of the head of NWO, the scariest lady under the Sun.

“No, I have not.”

A silence filled the room.

“But.”

“Have you heard what my husband does to people who don’t do what they are asked to do?”

Mainly water prison, pillory, white room or a syrian box.

No, thank you.

“As I started,” he cleared his throat, “I’m almost there. 70 percent of the object’s physical functions are in database by now. Mental functions are hard to read.” He looked her in the eye, like she should know why. 

And she did. 

Her look zoomed away. Then she frowned. “What about Abram?”

“He says, and I quote, ‘It’s complicated.’”

The lady breathed deeply. With a silent nod she calmed down. Or at least looked like it. “We can’t disable the Key.” She said through clenched teeth.

“I know, Madam.”

She breathed a little more.

“I can call him.”

“Yes, you should do exactly that.” The strict cold stone smile of hers became still. 

Like a fuckin’ Mount Everest.

“No. I’ll tell Darius to plan us a small eye to eye meeting.” She stood up. “Thank you for your time. Please continue with the research and send me anything new as soon as you can. Now good bye.”

And he stood up. Bowed slightly and left.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Cain was walking up and down the waiting room for over fifty minutes. A glare glamorized her face. Her nerves were having a party. She couldn’t stop biting nails, and she’s been to ladies’ room three times since she’s come.

Here again. Ugh.

But she was not ratty. She was scared. Alexander had to force her to go see Dr. Milsow with not so pretty words.

Oh yeah, they talk now.

The door opened and she jumped. A young doctor appeared.

“Rodgers at last!”

Fucking pervert.

“Come.”

She walked past him into the ambulance. 

“So.” He closed the door and sat on a chair. “You pregnant yet?”

“No.”

“Why?” He stood up again, walked towards the nearest cabinet from which he took a bundle of papers. Never looking up he asked the same question as he always did. “Do you know what happens to-” 

At least he tried to.

“Yes, I know. I also know that I don’t want to have a child.”

His eyes finally drifted up. He breathed out sharply. “We already talked about this.”

“Yes, I know.” She repeated.

Like he can make her have sex with a complete stranger.

It’s been six weeks. She’s been here for a month and a half. And only now she started to see it all clearly. 

She’s not been at work for four days, her SIN has been beeping like a bomb before boom all that time. If it weren’t for Alexander, she would have been in some damned black cell screaming for dear life.

By the way, that’s why they talk now.

She couldn’t sleep nor eat. No more enjoying the best bed she has ever had, no more cooking, no more excercising, cleaning, or talking at all. She felt like all of her life energy has just ran away.

With all of the world’s wisdom, sunshine and happiness.

She was having what they call a major depressive episode. So hurray. 

“What are you thinking!” Dr. Milsow was angry. “Hell! You should be kissing me for you are not dead yet!” He shrieked. “Sit in the goddamned chair.”

At least she tried.

“Don’t you go crying on me! You know I like you things still and obedient. Now your legs. Up!”

She sobbed. He screamed. And shouted some more. Then he injected her body with a soporific fluid. She was dead a second later.

Hah, like that could happen. Death would be a pleasure.

She woke up in her bed some time later. The Sun was still there behind the window. She fell asleep again like a bear in winter. 

Well it was winter, wasn’t it.

.

Cain.

Drops fell on glass windows with ease. A thunder. A melancholic song.

Cain.

She liked the hot aura around her body. Even if she couldn’t feel the heat. Maybe it was fucking freezing inside.

“Cain.”

Her senses sharpened.

“Are you asleep?”

Oh.

“I can see you eyes open.”

“You woke me up.”

Alexander sat on a chair by her bed.

Well yes, it was hers now. Vamps don’t need to sleep that much.

“I am sorry.” He narrowed his eyes.

“No, you are not.”

He was.

With a self-pity sight she sat up, still hidden under the thick quilt.  “What?”

“You were transported here by an ambulance.” He said flatly. “And you have an extra ticking going on inside of you.”

She jumped at that. He knew why.

“You are not pregnant.”

She calmed down and stretched her forehead. And there it was. Almost like a rush. But she has never had one of those before.

“Another chip? Oh hell why not. Let me just be all electronic. You want a robowifie?”

She tried but he didn’t laugh.

He never laughed.

“Can I see it?”

The next thing she knew, they were walking down the corridor, passing Abel’s then Arthur’s. The rain was bluring her view and she could hear the tumult of waves bombarding the stone humanmade coast. A lightning. A thunder. The house they entered without a knock was as dilapidated as every other in the Corner District.

She’s been seated down on a metalic chair in a dark kitchen.

“Quin!” The vampire yelled.

After a while a human man walked down the stairs towards them. Clothed in pyjamas, stinking of shame.

“What have you done.”

And then the men argued. For seven minutes.

A chip, a talk, a fear. Mrs. President. The Big Experiment.

She embraced her knees beginning to feel close to falling to the ground.

“Do you actually do the crazy stuff they ask you to?”

“Can’t blame me! They’d kill me if I don’t!”

“Wait, he did this to me?” Cain’s voice interrupted them. She stood up all shaky.

The man stepped back and gave Alexander a concerned look. “Don’t-”

“Cain, please sit down.”

The man was a scientist. Possibly on a high NWO possition. He looked more terrified than her. He should be.

Another thunder boomed outside followed by a cry of a siren.

“Oh bloody shit! Another conflagration?!”

The vampire took Cain by a hand and hurried her outside.

Beginning // Chapter 4 // Chapter 6