#(passively thinks about how little space i have left on my computer for it)

[orcelito]

finally managd to back up my blog,

,,,,,,,,,,,,,

[deusvervemakesgames]

Project RBH Devlog 0037

New Year New Devlog.

First of all, housekeeping. I have unfortunately made the difficult decision to leave my retail job, which has left my finances somewhat unstable again. My dignity isn’t so fragile that it would hurt me to beg. If you like what I’m doing here with Project RBH or are a fan of my writing, I’d appreciate even a dollar a month on my Patreon.

Leaving my job means that I do have more free time to put towards game development and writing, and I’ve already made some progress on the project.

First up, I’ve optimized the damage script a little. I don’t get enough feedback from you guys to know if it was causing any problems, and my computer could handle it fine, but it’s better to optimize than not. And, if you remember, I had problems in the past where shooting the wrong object would crash the game because the damage script was attempting to run code that was only in the enemy objects? This optimization has completely resolved that issue moving forwards. This includes things like Damage Numbers, which no longer appear when you shoot a wall.

I also added a bit of polish to the bullets. Now, when a bullet vanishes—either because it hit a wall or because it’s stuck around too long—it creates a little ‘pop’ particle effect. It genuinely amazes me how much this small change improves the feel of the game.

You also might recall that I was working on drones that passively follow the player and can each have unique behavior? And that I was trying to figure out a good way to make them all follow the player in a way that looked good? Well I solved it. It’s a very simple bit of code, all things considered. I pick an origin point at the center of the player sprite and then rotate the drone around that point. The tricky part was evenly spacing the drones around the player, regardless of how many there are. Luckily I’m a genius, so I figured out that I could divide 360 by the number of drones there are, and use that to set each drones’ initial position, which spaces them perfectly. So long as the player doesn’t somehow get an extra drone mid-level.

Speaking of which, there’s a strange bug where sometimes the game spawns in an extra drone and I haven’t figured out why that’s happening yet. Especially since it spawns this drone in the same position as another drone instead of spacing it with the others. Game Development!

The other thing I did was more of a balance thing. I halved the player’s fire rate to make each shot more impactful, and to make each upgrade more meaningful.

Speaking of balancing, I need to think about that. A lot. See, I don’t know how many enemies I want to throw at the player in the final build. A whole army of hundreds? Only a few per room? And I need to figure out if and how the player can heal. Right now the only way to do it is with the Heal On Crit upgrade, but that’s… weak. It gives Crit builds more power over other builds.

So I need to debate. Passive healing upgrades? Do enemies randomly drop healing items? Do I make the player choose between upgrading their bullets or restoring health?

Much to consider.

Until next Devlog!

-DeusVerve

Special thanks to my $7 Patrons, Haelerin and CHR15T05!

Support me on Patreon to get Early Access to builds!

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

All Men Have Limits - III

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 3,500+

Previously on…

Bruce was having yet another night without sleep. It happened often. And similar to the rest of the family, he just learned to function on very few hours of sleep.

So, he decided to make his way down to the kitchen.

But as he walked down the long hallway of bedrooms, he noticed that Y/N’s door was open. He glanced inside to see that it was empty and her bed was still neatly made from this morning. 

He looked down at this watch to see that it was almost 5AM.

A part of Bruce expected to find Y/N snacking or drinking coffee. But she wasn’t in the kitchen either.

Bruce sighed, realizing where she’d be and made his way down to the cave.

He expected to find Y/N with her eyes bloodshot and shoulders hunched over at the computers.

What he didn’t expect was to find Y/N passed out, slouched in the chair, knees in her chest and head balanced on the palm of her hand. How her elbow stayed propped up on the arm of the chair was beyond Bruce.

He smirked at the sight.

Perhaps she’d been spending too much time around the Wayne family. She was starting to adopt their bad habit of exhausting themselves.

Bruce knew she would be irritated if he moved her. But, honestly, he didn’t really care.

Carefully, Bruce slipped his arms behind her back – separating her from the chair – and then behind her knees, slowly lifting her into his arms.

Even though the movement was extremely smooth, Y/N still stirred.

“I was just taking a cat nap,” Y/N mumbled, but couldn’t even open her eyes to make the argument compelling. “I’m still working.”

“No, you’re not. Time to get some sleep.”

“Mmmm. Fine,” she slurred and tucked her head into his neck.

Bruce wasn’t sure if her mind even put together that it was him carrying her.

But he savored the closeness as he carried her out of the cave and up the stairs to the second floor of the manor.

When they got to her bedroom, Bruce put her down on the bed so softly, that she didn’t even feel it. Then he bent down to take off her shoes and unfolded the covers to tuck her in.

Just as Bruce reached the door.

Y/N woke up slightly and muttered, “Night, Bruce.”

His hand froze on the doorknob. It was so quiet that he wasn’t even sure if he had imagined it. But he couldn’t find the courage to turn and face her.

So he shut the door and let her sleep.

————

“Where’s Y/L/N?” Damian asked the table.

She usually ate breakfast with them.

“Still sleeping,” Bruce answered without looking up from the newspaper. “No one bother her today. She needs to rest,” that made him look up and give a warning look to Tim, Damian, and Dick.

Then Jason came stomping into the kitchen.

He grabbed a pastry and ate it standing up, getting crumbs all over the floor.

“Where’s ladylove?” He asked with his mouth so full that he looked like a chipmunk.

Bruce ignored him and looked back down at the paper.

But Dick frowned at him. “Don’t call her that.”

“What do you care?” Jason laughed.

Dick didn’t dignify the question with an answer. He just thrust his chair back and shoved Jason’s shoulder as he stormed past him.

“What’s his fucking deal?” Jason asked once he was out of ear shot.

“Watch your language,” Bruce warned with a glare from behind his paper.

Jason exhaled a laugh. “I’m not a kid. I also don’t live under your roof anymore.”

“And I consider that a gift,” Damian muttered loud enough for everyone to hear.

Jason smacked the back of his head.

Damian flew out of his seat and lunged for him. “I will end you, Todd!”

“Maybe when you hit puberty, demon spawn.”

“Damian!” Bruce shouted to get his son’s attention. His son snapped to attention. But then Bruce’s tone was eerily calm when he continued with, “Control your anger.”

It was something they’d been working on since Damian arrived at the manor. Bruce guessed that Damian would always have a temper. But he needed to learn how to control it. Through time and practice, he got better.

Damian took in a deep breath, but still looked like he wanted to murder Jason.

“I will be training,” Damian announced through an irritated sigh before leaving.

Bruce glared at Jason. “Don’t push him.”

“He started it.”

“You claim you’re not a kid, so don’t act like one.”

“Speaking of kids…” Jason started with a smile.

Bruce swiftly stood up. “Don’t even try.”

Then he was gone as well, leaving just Jason and Tim.

“Well, it appears everyone is in a rather bad mood this morning,” Jason joked.

But there was no response from Tim.

“Are you sleeping with your eyes open?!?” Jason yelled.

That woke up Tim and he jumped. “Huh? What?”  

————

Y/N would’ve slept the whole day if she hadn’t smelled the coffee and breakfast.

She winced as she woke up to see if her mind was playing tricks on her.

But on top of her nightstand sat a beautiful, antique tray with a full American breakfast on it, a cup of water, a giant mug of coffee, and a little vase with a tiny flower in it – a single, pink peonie.

Y/N rubbed her eyes awake with a shy smile.

Alfred was way sneakier than she realized if he could bring in a full tray like this and not even wake her up. She must be far more exhausted than she originally thought.

But then a piece of paper caught her eye. A note.

Y/N reached for it.

In the neatest handwriting Y/N had ever seen, she read:

“Perhaps you should take the day to relax. I apologize for my behavior last night.”

Y/N snorted at the word ‘behavior.’ Everything he had done last night was passive. It was more of an energy and tension than actual behavior. But Y/N had to give him credit for being aware of it. He had annoyed her last night, especially when Dick somehow took the fall for her own actions regarding her own life.

She ate the food at a disturbingly fast rate, not realizing how starved she’d felt until taking the first bite.

She would definitely miss Alfred’s cooking when she finally left Wayne Manor… whenever the hell that would be.

Y/N hoped it was sooner rather than later.

‘No, you don’t. Liar.’ A voice said inside her head.

Once Y/N had finished eating at light speed, she threw on a pair of baggy jeans and a cropped sweatshirt. She grabbed her coffee and carried it through the hallway.

She heard typing coming from Bruce’s office. He hadn’t used the room since she starting stay at the manor. So, her curiosity got the best of her and she leaned into the doorframe.

Bruce was wearing a navy polo that fit tight on his toned body. He was behind the desk, typing on the computer with his brow folded in concentration.  

He immediately noticed her presence and looked up from his work.

“Hi,” she said shyly before she leaned her back into the doorframe and took a sip of coffee.

“Hi,” he smiled back.

“Thank you for the breakfast.”

Bruce leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. “I can’t take credit for the actual cooking,” he admitted with a smirk.

“Oh, I know.” Then she looked around the study. “I was on my way to the cave when I heard you in here.”

Bruce frowned at that. “I thought you were going to take the day off.”

“I think you thought I was taking the day off.” Then she raised an eyebrow and glanced at all the work spread out on his desk. “Maybe you should take a break.”

“This is Wayne Enterprises, not my…nighttime…activities.”

Y/N shrugged and sipped more coffee. “Still work.”

Bruce rubbed his face. “Guess so.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” Y/N walked into the room and didn’t break eye contact. “If you take the day off, so will I.”

She expected Bruce to immediately shoot down her offer.

But he was smirking as he considered her proposition.

“Deal,” he told her before standing up and walking out from behind the desk.

He got unnecessarily close, invading her space.

Bruce held out his hand.

Y/N grinned at the formal gesture, but shook his hand.

But when their hands gripped together, the gesture no longer felt formal. It felt intimate. Y/N’s grin fell when she acknowledged it.

“What did you have in mind?” Bruce asked. He put his hands in the pockets of his slacks.

If he felt the same intimacy as she had, he didn’t show it.

Y/N cleared her throat. “How about something simple? Maybe a walk?”

Bruce nodded slowly. “A walk sounds good.”  

“Well, then what are we waiting for?” Y/N sassed.

He shook his head and almost rolled his eyes before gesturing to the door, silently telling her to go first.

Next thing Y/N knew, she was getting an informal tour of the grounds at Wayne Manor from the owner himself.

Y/N listened closely, genuinely finding all the history interesting. Bruce was surprisingly a good storyteller – even if he was more informative than colorful.

“I know you had a hard childhood. But it still must’ve been nice growing up in a place like this,” Y/N tried to tell him.

“I suppose so.”

He glanced at Y/N and found her giving him an encouraging look, as if she was silently begging him to say more, to share more.

But he left it at that.

“Damian is rather fond of animals. That’s why we updated the old outbuilding. He keeps his horses there…amongst other things.”

Y/N chuckled and nodded, “He was telling me about Batcow the other day.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate me telling you this, but I think Damian has enjoyed having you around – all the boys have.”

Y/N hummed and turned to fully face Bruce. “And what about you? Have you enjoyed having me around?”

“Wayne Manor is the safest place for you right now.”

“That’s not what I asked, Bruce.”

But he already knew that.

Y/N waited. Because she wasn’t going to let him ignore her question.

“Dick has taken quite a liking to you,” Bruce said quietly.

“Don’t change the subject,” Y/N snapped.

He opened his mouth to continue, but she cut him off.

“We’re not talking about me and Dick. We’re talking about me and you.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened.

Y/n took a step closer to him. “Why did you kiss me the other night?”

He tilted his head to the side. “Did you not want me to?”

“What does it matter?” Y/N sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “I want to know what you’re thinking. I thought I put up walls. But you give me nothing, Bruce. Absolutely nothing. One second I think you see me as a nuisance, then the next you’re fucking kissing me.”

“You’re not a nuisance.”

“Oh, he speaks!” Y/N threw up her arms.  

“What do you want me to say, Y/N?” He asked evenly.

Always calm and collected. Overly polite. Controlled. Closed off.

“Forget it,” Y/N breathed and started walking back to the manor.

But after she was a few yards away, she realized she wanted to say one last thing and turned back around.

“Not that it matters. But I did. I did want you to kiss me.”

“Then why did you run away?” Bruce asked.

“Because I knew you would do it eventually. And I was trying to protect myself.”

-

So much for a “day off.” When Y/N was upset, she turned to her work to take her mind off of things. Was it denial? Was it displacement? She didn’t like to dwell on it. And most of the time, there was no one in her life to call her out for it.

Y/N thought she was emotionally distant, but Bruce won that race by a landslide. And she found it infuriating.

It was interactions like the one she just had that made Y/N think everything Dick tried to tell her about how Bruce saw her was utter bullshit.

Y/N arrived to the cave with an energy she was definitely not expecting.

Damian and Dick were training on the lower level while Tim and Jason observed from the sides.

Y/N had seen footage of each of them fighting before. It was one of the research pieces she’d watched while investigating them before figuring out their identities. But seeing it in person was a completely different experience.

Dick was using his escrima sticks,  while Damian had his katana.

Jason noticed her arrival and made his way over with a smirk.

“Was wondering when you’d wake up,” he greeted.

“Please tell me that’s a sword for training and not an actual blade,” Y/N asked nervously while her eyes followed the two dancing around each other. She could even hear the blade slicing through the air.

“Don’t worry. They won’t seriously hurt each other.” He had a little side smirk. “Especially since Dick is Damian’s favorite.”

Y/N looked at Jason. “I always assumed Bruce was his favorite.”

He shrugged. “Dick’s been a father to Damian far more than Bruce ever has.”

She didn’t have anything to say to that. It caught her by surprise a bit.

“Can you fight?” Jason asked her.

Her eyes widened. “No. I don’t know how to do…anything. I did one of those boxing workout classes. I hated it. All the instructors are male models, and that’s their side hustle.”

“I can assure you that was not boxing,” Jason laughed. “Why haven’t asked one of us?”  

Y/N shrugged. “Seems like a waste of your time.”

“No, it sounds like a fun time,” Jason corrected.

She laughed at that.

They both watched the two again.

A few moments went by before Y/N quietly added, “I have a gun. I don’t really know how to use it. But I thought it was necessary with my…line of work.”

Jason nodded slowly. “These pansies have a certain aversion to guns.” He looked down at her. “If you need me to show you a few basics, let me know.”

Y/N quickly looked at him. “T-Thank you.”

He laughed. “Don’t look so surprised.”

Jason Todd may have been labeled an anti-hero or even a criminal at one point. But deep down, he was still a Wayne. And even though he had the reputation of the bad boy, they all knew he was a sweetheart deep down. However, Y/N was now just seeing it.

Y/N jumped when Damian was slammed to the ground.

“Jesus,” she hissed.

“He’s fine,” Jason insisted.

But then he leaned closer and started pointing out certain moves to her. 

“With Dick’s gymnastics background, he incorporates a lot more acrobatics and moves that require more flexibility. He’s good at improvisation. He also leans more toward taekwondo. But with his escrima sticks, he also uses arnis.”

He looked down to make sure he wasn’t boring Y/N before he continued.

“He almost moves like a dancer,” she thought aloud, proving she was interested and engaged.

“Exactly,” he nodded. “Whereas Damian is still a kid. It’s less about power and more about agility. Before he got here, he was trained to kill. He’s mastered the sword better than any of us – but don’t tell him I said that. Damian’s had to adjust his technique and turn it non-lethal.” He smirked, “Just think devil ninja and that pretty much sums it up.”

Y/N laughed.

“And Tim?” She asked.

“Tim leans towards Kobudo, which is an ancient style developed by the Japanese. He prefers to use a battle staff. He’s smaller, so his technique is very calculated and controlled. Every move he makes counts for something. He’s extremely observant and can read his opponents like a book. Dick tries to create his openings, while Tim waits for the exact right moment.”

“Smart,” Y/N commented.

Jason nodded in agreement.

She turned back to him. “And you? What’s your style?”

“Brutal,” a voice said behind them.

Y/N whipped around to see Bruce standing behind them with his arms crossed. He’d changed, and was now wearing a tank top and sweatpants. Clearly he came down with the intention to train as well.

Jason didn’t seem surprised nor did he acknowledge him, meaning he probably knew the moment Bruce had arrived. He just didn’t care to notice him outwardly.

“Wing chun. Heavy-weight boxing. Krav Maga,” Bruce continued as if he was just listing of stats. “Angry…” he shrugged, “sometimes reckless.”

Jason scoffed at that.

“And he can’t seem to get over his complex for guns,” Bruce finished.

Jason turned to him. He was just an inch or so taller than Bruce. But he looked like he was twice the width and his muscles were somehow even bigger.

“Should we give her a show, B?” Jason offered with amusement.

“We’re not a spectacle, Jason.”

Jason looked down to Y/N. “Such a party pooper this one.”

She smirked at his sass. Bruce was not in her good graces right now, so she would support any and all mocking of him.

Y/N hadn’t even looked at Bruce since he arrived. And now she was choosing it as a perfect time to finally make her way to her computers and away from him.

Jason didn’t miss the cold shoulder. “What did you do to piss off yet another woman?”

Bruce glared at him, and walked down to the training area with the boys.

Jason followed after him. 

He looked back and forth between Bruce and up at Y/N, a plan developing in his head.

“$100 bucks Bruce can lay out Dick in two minutes,” Jason said loud enough that Y/N could hear him.

Tim and Damian shared a smirk.

Bruce and Dick glared at him.

“I’m not betting against that,” Damian announced.

Tim smiled. “But I will.”

Dick shook his head in submission, “Fine.”

Bruce needed the practice, even though he was aware Jason had ulterior motives with his request. So he just gave Dick a look of consent.

Y/N tried to ignore what was happening, even though Jason made it very clear for her. She heard the sound of fists and feet hitting skin. He heard their grunts of pain and exertion.

It wasn’t until she heard Dick torment Bruce with, “Come on, old man,” that Y/N couldn’t help but turn to watch them below the platform she worked on.

Dick’s teasing worked, but not in his favor.

Bruce no longer took it easy on him. Maybe that’s what Dick wanted, but he was now on the defense.

They were fighting hand to hand. No escrima sticks or gadgets. Just hand-to-hand combat.

Y/N could tell the that Dick was starting to get frustrated. 

Bruce, however, seemed completely calm. He knew all of the boys’ fighting styles and taught them the majority of what they knew. There was a part of Bruce in all of them. It almost made for an unfair fight. 

Their movements got faster and faster. Y/N was struggling to figure out what was even happening anymore.

But just when she was about to give up her observing and get back to work, Bruce managed to get a proper grip on Dick and flipped him over his shoulder.

Dick landed on his back hard. So hard, that Y/N heard the smack and the sound alone made her feel sick.

Y/N gasped, and put a hand in her mouth when the sound came out louder than she expected.

Jason, Tim, Damian, and even Dick glanced up at her.

But Bruce was staring down at his opponent.

“Your weight placement was off and you know how to get out of that hold,” Bruce lectured. “You know better.”

Dick glared up at him.

Bruce offered him a hand up, but Dick ignored it.

“I know,” Dick growled as he got to his feet.

“You’re letting yourself get frustrated. It’s causing your mistakes.”

“I said I know,” Dick snapped louder this time.

Before an argument could really start, Alfred made his presence known by clearing his throat.

All the boys looked up at him, as well. 

“What is it?” Bruce asked.

“I was rather certain you’d forgotten. Seems I was right.” Alfred cleared his throat. “I came to remind you all that the annual gala for the Martha Foundation is tomorrow night at the manor.”

“Can’t we reschedule it,” Damian whined.

Bruce shook his head. “The Court of Owls is made of Gotham’s elite – many of who are invited. If we cancel, it will cause suspicion.”

“You can’t honestly think we should risk that with Y/N being here,” Dick called out, gesturing up towards Y/N.

Bruce and Dick had a silent conversation.

Y/N knew it was about her, so she did not appreciate being excluded.

“Oh, wow. Looks like one of my safe houses is finally more secure than this place,” Y/N spoke up melodramatically.

But she should’ve known it wasn’t going to be that easy to escape.

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

Next chapter is gonna be fun, guys. 😈 But let me know what you thought of this one. 

[parviocula]

Here I go again. Lets talk about the Ebunike & Smasher!

MMK OK so since the first day I found out about this secret little hideout I instantly noticed the guns! And the computer!

I also realize this is just ONE of Adams many hideouts, but since I only know of this one and the unused one (I’ll talk about it later) I wanna speak on this!

So he has an extra Dragoon frame (lmao) and a SHIT load of HMG. So I wanna talk about the HMGs!

There’s 10 HMG in total in this hideout, but why so many? Well in MY opnion and obviously awesome theory is that each one has a specific history! A specific SPECIAL kill that he loves so much that every time he sees it he thinks about the story! Because the normal “he just likes it” is boring BOO TOMATO TOMATO TOMATO!

I also believe he names his guns because you know the whole “Name your weapon and it shall never betray you” when has adams weapons ever betrayed him? hmm? That’s Right! NEVER! SO THEY HAVE NAMES!

I wanna start with the left side of that picture above. I think one might be what he used during the “Love like fire” mission, imma say hmm top right gives me the vibes.  These have to be special right? They look great next to his extra frame.

Another cool thing is his extra! The heavily modified infamous Dragoon. It is an EXACT replica of what he wears now without all the inner tubing and his reactor core. Who gave it to him? Who gifted it to him? Could it have been a gift from Yorinobu himself when he came and asked Smasher to help him? A false gift? a false idol of power? the trojan?  Even the theme matches with the red and black! 

So I wanna expand on this and talk about his Hideout and the maelstrom because there’ SO MUCH going on people really don’t understand how important this area actually is! This took a lot of time to put together so hopefully I worded this as best as possible. Also I think his favorite are Shotguns & HMG

lol @ the fact he doesn’t have a chair for his computer.

Lets start with the general layout of the ship!

Ebunike at Night and Daytime! Pretty cool it keeps with the Red and Black theme yeah? Daytime it just looks like a normal boring ass ship. Pretty clever yeah? Lotta space too.

Cleaning supplies. Sometime was in charge of keeping up with the ships appearance! Probably also used to clean up Adams mess’. Probably Grayson (haha). Also gives off that Adam is not Filthy/Dirty! Like his hideout he is actually very very organized & clean which could be apart of living life in such rubbish environment for most of his life in New York. (Except for the body in the bathroom but we don’t see that rn)

Cool ass hangout spot! You can also find a stressball directly below this area BTW. I’m not sure he really uses this area though unless he uses Gemini to blend it but I doubt it (I believe he’s full on Samson by this time)

Stolen Kang Tao/Militech Firearms that are to be sold to South Africa! He has a lot of this shit laying all over the place. I assume this is his PASSIVE income.

Dead Chick from the whole Blackmail thingy. Lazy grunt never cleaned it up! Or maybe Grayson tried to get back at Adam after he left him? 

Graysons little area! He has a smart pistol on the left, a window on the right that overlooks the Ebunike itself & two doors. There’s also a lot of trash outside the window so Grayson is very lazy! There’s also Documents here, Magazines and a pencil holder (I find this very cute). I can see Grayson just sitting in his swirly chair being a dumbass and reading emails. 

Straight up idc idc idc SMASHER STILL HAS SOME EMOTION! I hate that “Omg he’s is asshole on humanity bla bla bla” well maybe he changed look at him giving a shit about Grayson. “Anything happens, let me know” dude bruh come ONNNNNUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH MIKE PONDSMITH GIVE ME!!!1 GIVE GIVE GIVE!

Idk who writes this 1000% but I am gonna say Smasher because I am built like that (a problem) so yeah. Interesting information btw if you like to write about selling illegal shit or whatever the hell you wanna do.

OKAY before I actually start to explain stuff. I think it is funny that Smasher is working with Maelstrom because Gray/Mike states that Adam Smasher believe them to be Stupid! He totally hates their guts! So the fact he literally entrusts them with the cargo and shit is super funny to me (they’re probably cheap)

Anyways back on track.

Proof it IS Smasher who is in control. It’s also never states wtf Grayson ever said and who Briger is exactly (we never see Kurt or Xay either so w/e)

Their Meth lab! How do I know this?

BAM

Codeine 

Iodine 

Red Phosphorus 

Rentable Cargo!

If you take the time to explore the area you’ll notice the entire left (from Ebunike) are actually living spaces. Now, rather if this is rentable just for the Maelstrom or other outside forces I cannot be 1000% sure. It is PROBABLY for fellow Maelstrom goons that are hired to live. Although I do think depending on the offer others may be allowed to live there under specific agreements (taking advantage of homelessness in exchange for dangerous exports).

NOW REMEMBER! Adam Smasher was once a gang leader. HE KNOWS what he is doing. This is just part of his entire life in one image. He knows exactly how to talk, who to talk to and how to act & read your intentions. He knows the pulse of his surroundings (Street Samurai), he knows when you are lying and when you speak the truth (knows who to trust). Everything thats put together in the Ebunike lot and the boat itself is a render of himself as not only a professional Solo but as a MERC & LEADER. He is by no means an idiot. 

I wanted to expand on this little area to show you just how Smasher acts and what he can put together! He has routes & people! He reads and writes and thinks and keeps tracks of a lot of things that would otherwise stress most of us the fuck out. He has loyal goon (Grayson) and clearly most of Maelstrom really do respect him.

You can also see that there’s Games, Food, Beds & TVs all over the place! Everyone is technically properly cared for! Not that it means he’s merciful, he just knows if his people are happy than they will do good work. Its never brought up that he rules with an iron fist in the surrounding area. It also seems the cleanest in that entire area.

Not to put Grayson down the man did a lot of work too! He’s the right hand man of Smasher (fucker AHHH!!!!) so who knows what else he has done.

Last part is his unused unfinished hideout.

Notice a big difference? The fact they went with his outer shell instead of the main core of his chest.... This originally lead me to believe that Adam Smasher was suppose to have his more “Human” form like the Samson before they swapped it out with the Dragoon. Because the unused appearance he has him in human clothes (BTW the face is Jackies from what I’ve learned. So don’t take it that this is an accurate version of him). THIS DRIVES ME INSANE BECAUSE AHHHHH MERC/SOLO Smasher! THE REAL DEAL! Not that robotic version THAT IS SO UPSETTING! FREE HIM!!!

2077 DRAGOON FRAME

2020 “Young” Smasher Frame with an unused Jacket (ignore his big ass shoulders). 

THE Adam Smasher

mmk I am done 

[cdyssey]

Holiday

Summary: Grace and Frankie have a heart-to-heart after 7x03. | AO3 Link

—

Grace makes margaritas that night to celebrate Grankiekuh, the new holiday that she and Frankie just made up to celebrate the fact that Frankie doesn’t feel the need to make up holidays to avoid her anymore.

“You just squished our names together and threw the -kuh from Hanukkah at the end,” Grace accuses, chuckling. 

Light.

Playful.

Simply exuberant.

Just an hour ago, she was guzzling martinis on the couch with her ex-husband trying to figure out the quickest way to apologize to Frankie for a twenty-year-old mistake.

And now they’re planning a fake holiday together, and everything is somehow right in a world that also features her current husband sleeping in a jail cell.

“You have to admit—it has a certain ring to it,” Frankie hums determinedly. “We could be the new Shefani, the octogenarian Bennifer!”

“Well, don’t expect me to passionately hold your ass on a speedboat anytime soon,” Grace teases as she carefully measures tequila in a cylinder and then pours a little more than the recommended amount just to be safe.

“Nah,” her partner winks conspiratorially. “Just my hand across a candlelit table will do.”

And so they light a scented candle on the dining room table and drink incredibly boozy margaritas and eventually eat Del Tacos takeout that arrives half-an-hour late because the DoorDash driver couldn’t find the beach house. And Frankie laughs about Grace tearing the poor delivery kid a new one. And Grace quietly admires that Frankie still gives the twerp a twenty dollar tip anyway.

“At least he’s got a stronger constitution than Bugs Bunny,” Frankie snorts as she closes the door on yet another shell shocked human being who has encountered the wrath of Grace Hanson.

“That isn’t an impressively tall bar to surmount,” Grace replies, wrapping a fond arm around Frankie’s shoulders.

They talk, they eat, and then they talk some more when all that’s left at the bottom of the brown paper bag are tortilla chip crumbs. They talk a little bit about everything, really—the surprisingly pleasant weather these past few days, Bud’s apparent penis problem, Robert being useless at the dishes, and how delicious Del Tacos is. 

And between them, talking about everything is certainly not the same as talking about nothing.

Because even if they’re only talking about the weather or the dishes or the abysmal states of their children’s genitalia, it’s because they enjoy each other’s company enough to implicitly understand that it’s nice to just sit together at the end of a long, hard day and hear each other’s voices.

Because the little things are nice sometimes.

The day-to-day minutiae and routine of living with another person.

Sharing space with them.

Being present.

Being kind.

And in experiencing another’s unadulterated kindness, becoming whole.

When Grace gets salsa on the corner of her pink mouth, Frankie reaches over and thumbs it off with a kind of casual intimacy that was hard won between them, fought for and so lovingly, so painstakingly earned. 

They love each other.

They’ve surpassed the point where they constantly have to say it aloud.

I love you, Frankie says when she takes extra care to clean the dishes just the way that Grace prefers—something Robert Hanson never quite learned after forty goddamn years of marriage.

And I love you, Grace replies when she unthinkingly puts Frankie’s phone on charge because she realizes it’s on four percent, and her friend can’t fall asleep until she’s listened to meditative whale noises on YouTube for an hour.

And I love you, Frankie doesn’t say when she extends her palm to Grace and tells her that they should stargaze tonight because “Saturn’s vibin’ in the sky.”

And I love you, Grace replies when she threads their fingers together so snugly that their rings clink and replies—without sarcasm, without judgment, without weight, “Sure.”

And I love you, they tell each other as they slowly stagger their way out onto the deck, Grace assuming the right cushion and Frankie taking the left, arm in arm until the very last moment when it makes more sense for them to let go, to find their own equilibrium as the sea breeze sweeps gentle fingers through their hair.

The sky is star-freckled tonight, blushing purple and inky blue.

In the natural silence that follows, however, the moon and the stars and the supposedly vibin’ planets don’t particularly captivate Grace’s attention for very long, so she finds herself staring at Frankie, who’s staring off into space, her tall features bathed in amber porch light.

Something has shifted in her expression in the few elapsed moments since they’ve been outside, her thin brow furrowed, a frown threatening to tug at her lips where there had once been an easy smile. Her slender hands are clasped below her chin in a gesture that Grace has come to associate with introspective thoughtfulness, tinged with a kind of subtle melancholy that Frankie has always maintained that she detests and tries to consciously avoid. 

“Frankie… are you—?

“We only fought for two hours this time,” Frankie interrupts softly, nodding towards the outdoor dining table where the Hanson-Bergsteins had yet another disastrous brunch together. (At least no one broke a bone or got hit with a wiffle bat this time.) “Ha, that’s a new record if I’ve ever heard of one!"

But the joke doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and Grace’s heart sinks somewhere beneath her ribcage. It throbs in her uncomfortably full stomach. She had naively assumed that three margaritas in a piece, the two of them could just skip the part where they rehash the day’s events and openly reflect upon them—but she should have known.

These emotional reckonings are Frankie’s chosen form of healing.

She’s always processed better aloud.

“Fighting with you is the most uninspired pastime I can think of doing these days,” Grace tells her truthfully. “I’d rather resolve our conflicts in five minutes than five hours, so we can catch Jeopardy! together without sitting on the couch in passive aggressive silence… I think we’ve reached a point in our friendship where we can do that… yeah?”

The question comes out a little more vulnerably than she would have liked.

Open-ended and hesitant, it requests an equally honest answer.

And while she knows that Frankie has no qualms about being emotionally honest, Grace also innately understands that she has chronically shied away from honesty about all matters pertaining to herself. 

(When she initially told Nick that she wanted to redefine their relationship, she couldn’t have even told herself what the hell she meant either. She supposes she wants to have her cake and eat it, too—to be in a relationship with Nick and go home to Frankie. But maybe that means she doesn’t really love Nick, that she’s just using him for the ample entertainment he provides: the romance, the easy companionship, the sex. And maybe, at the heart of that unsettling hypothesis, she’s just as much of a stone cold bitch as everyone around her seems to think. Her husband is in jail, and she doesn’t lose any sleep about it. In fact, in her queen-sized bed in the beach house she shares with Frankie, she’s slept better than she has in all the many elapsed and miserable weeks since she said, “I do.”)

“Of course!” Frankie exclaims, her brows arching in surprise. “You say tom-ay-to, I say tom-ah-to, and then we kiss and passionately makeup. That’s exactly where we are nowadays.”

“Then why do you still look like a kicked puppy?” Grace asks shrewdly, folding her arms across her chest. “Or like Sol after his supposedly well-trained dog shit in his Birkenstocks.”

“Does being marginally tipsy on tequila count as an acceptable answer?”

“Nope.”

“Fine then and damn,” Frankie sighs, waving a defeated hand around the empty air. “But don’t hold it to me if I’m not making sense, Grace. I’m thinking rabbit trails tonight. And not, like, rabbit trails of criminally-tampered-with poop, but circles and other weird thoughts that don’t seem to be heading anywhere.”

“Hey, I'm not going anywhere—I’ve got all the time in the world to listen,” Grace replies easily, and this is love, too, without ever uttering the word.

Twenty years ago, she did everything short of making up a holiday to not spend a single moment alone in a room with Frankie Bergstein.

And now, she's done everything short of divorcing her husband to ensure that they're never apart.

Frankie's eyes briefly widen in pleasant surprise at this seemingly unexpected gesture, her parenthetically enclosed mouth curving into a gentle smile—tender and sweet.

Lord, she’s beautiful, Grace thinks to herself as Frankie mulls on her next words.

She thinks this at least twice a day and chalks it up to passive jealousy that someone can look so radiant without ever really trying, by just simply being herself.

“Mm, okay... so I was just thinking about how my thing might actually be worse than yours… and you killed my son’s beloved rabbit,” Frankie says bluntly.

And so clearly!

Like she already fully believes it.

Grace blinks rapidly, not entirely computing what she just heard.

“How the hell did you come up with that conclusion?” She asks, nonplussed. “Like you said, I killed your kid’s rabbit and lied about it for some twenty-odd years. You and Sol just played an elaborate game of hooky.”

Frankie looks torn on whether to laugh or shake her head in clear exasperation of Grace not getting it.

“But the ethical jury in the sky isn’t in on me creating a religious holiday just to avoid you,” she protests with a half-smile. “Or even worse, admitting that’s the reason after all these years. I hurt you, Grace, and I don’t wanna hand wave that away just so we can watch Jeopardy! in peace. I want to check in with you and make sure you’re really okay.”

Even after many years of slowly but surely becoming acquainted with Frankie’s uncanny sensitivity to her emotions, somehow, it’s always still a pure shock when Grace is met with the unadulterated and unconditional extent anyway. She’s still unlearning Robert’s idea of emotional care, which largely involved having a stockpile of generic gifts to placate her various moods and whims.

And frankly, she’s not the most empathetic woman of the year herself.

I hurt you, Frankie said candidly and made no attempt to defend herself, to excuse her actions.

I hurt you, she declared, and it was an I love you at the exact same time.

Grace can hardly swallow, her throat a hundred emotions thick. 

“Hey now,” she eventually rasps, “don’t go all revisionist on me now. I was so fucking mean to you. We don’t play wiffle ball anymore at waffle-and-wiffle brunches because I hit you with a bat.”

“You told me there was a bee in my hair,” Frankie rubs the back of her head wistfully. 

“There totally was,” she grins painfully, “but the bat was a highly unnecessary measure.”

“Grace!” Frankie groans. “Don’t get me sidetracked. I’m trying to be real with you here—I wasn’t a saint by any stretch of the imagination! I could be shitty to you, too.”

But Grace firmly shakes her head at this, her mouth pressed into a thin line, her rebuttal already locked, loaded, and innately known to be true.

“Not as often as I was to you, and rarely did you instigate because I’d already started it,” she insists, venom in her voice, raw and undeniable self-loathing. “If I’d been you dealing with me… God, maybe I’d have needed to make up a holiday, too…”

And even as she says it, the uneasiness in her stomach suddenly solidifies into sharp clarity and even crueler pain as she realizes what’s really been bothering her these past few days—a burgeoning feeling that she’s every bit as “harsh” and “vindictive” as Robert told the FBI lady she could be, even though she’s sworn she’s changed, even though she's wanted to be better.

God knows she's tried to be.

Because of Frankie.

Or maybe even for her.

The two reasons are interchangeable in her mind.

“I… I wasn’t like you, Frankie,” she eventually continues, glancing away so she doesn’t have to face the other’s expression—fearing confirmation of all her awful feelings, monstrously craving pity she’s sure she doesn't deserves. “Hell, I’m still not like you. The fact that my ideal marriage includes my husband being in jail more or less proves that.”

Grace Hanson doesn’t tip confused delivery boys thirty-percent after botched deliveries.

She doesn’t make up fantastical stories about magically disappearing bunnies for her kids so they believe in themselves.

She rarely apologizes for her mistakes.

And she makes a hell of a lot of mistakes.

“Robert called me harsh and often vindictive,” she chuckles humorlessly. “Well, I guess he’s got my number almost better than anyone.”

The ensuing silence following this proclamation stretches long and thin, like a tightrope strung precariously taut, and Grace is about to cave in to the temptation of looking at Frankie again when all of a sudden—

“Bullshit!” Frankie exclaims ferociously. “That’s a whole lot of bullshit, Grace Hanson.”

“Frankie, don’t defend—“

But she quickly reaches over and tightly curls her palm over Grace’s spiny knuckles, demanding her attention and getting it.

In so many years and throughout the span of them, she has been the only one to ever truly earn it.

Grace turns her head and finds Frankie’s oceanic eyes inches away from her face, storm-like in their intensity, piercing all over.

“Robert doesn’t get to use the present tense with you because he doesn’t live with you anymore,” Frankie insists when she knows she has Grace, when Grace can no more look away than a rabbit can actually disappear in a hat. “He doesn’t get to see you the way I do. And let's be honest here, I'm not sure he ever really has."

“And how do you see me?” Grace can barely breathe, only dimly aware that this is yet another needy question, one that can only engender a frighteningly vulnerable response.

Her heartbeat quickens.

She feels the exact striation of Frankie’s finger that is resting on the quarter of a million dollar wedding ring Nick bought for her in Vegas.

In the semi-lit darkness, Frankie’s sharply hewn cheeks feather themselves sunset pink. 

Grace blindly assumes it’s the humidity.

“As someone worth discovering,” she murmurs, “and by discovering, understanding that you’re a pretty darn amazing person to love beneath all those expertly erected walls.”

Frankie leans forward then and presses a chaste kiss on Grace’s head, quick and habitual, like she’s done it a hundred times before. Her floral perfume wreathes her like a warm embrace. Beneath the perfume, she smells like acrylic paint and sea breeze and strange but rich incense—complex and earthy and full of so many vibrant notes.

Heat rises to Grace’s face.

This must be the humidity, too.

“Some people don’t get that,” Frankie continues, moving back to her own cushion again, “and that’s their loss. They’ve never had to carve a pretty statue outta stone before, have never had to work on a relationship with you over time.” 

“So what you’re saying is that it takes work to love me, huh?” Grace raises a teasing eyebrow, even though she's not exactly sure that this is the appropriate time and place to make a joke. But the alternative to lightly joking is to internalize the words that Frankie just said, to truly contemplate what it means that there's at least one person in this world who'll wait for her—despite her many walls and damn them.

“It takes work to ever love anybody, really,” Frankie shrugs easily. 

It’s an unsurprisingly sage take—Frankie’s always been good at emotions and relationships and all of the other important and dauntingly human stuff—but it’s also one that gets Grace to thinking about Nick again, about his kindness and his persistence and about his dedication to wanting to make things to work.

She’s beginning to get an inkling of what it might mean that she doesn’t want to meet him halfway, kind and persistent and dedicated though the man might be.

That if she had to choose again between husband and home, there would be no contest.

There would be no hesitation.

So perhaps there are two people in the world who would wait for her, but of those two, Grace knows there's only one whom she would invite to stay.

“Happy Grankiekuh, Frankie,” Grace says, leaning her head against her best friend’s shoulder. “I like discovering you, too.”

“Well, you should! I’m a fucking delight.”

“Don’t push it.”

“Ha, never.”

But in the end, Frankie intertwines their hands together, and the silence of this action is its own unmistakable and resonant reply.

I love you.

Grace Hanson is loved.

[rsgguk]

true love, almost always — jjk

↳ aka — 'cause baby you're perfect for me

summary: y/n didn't know much about her soulmate. She knows that he's artistic from the little doodles that appears on her arm. She knows he's athletic from the scrapes that appears on her knees. She also knows that he has pain in the ass friends from the random dick drawings that appears on her forehead

genre: romance, angst, comedy, fluff

word count: 5.8 k

pairings:

Jungkook + reader | soulmates

warnings: so let me tell you, this is probably gonna be a bit inconsistent, I had written most of this during the middle of the night when I had a severe case of the feels. Now this isn't my usual style of writing, most things are in passive form because I'm trying to focus more on how they feel. I’m not sure if I’ll ever go back to this writing style but I had fun generally not worrying on the dialogue.

Y/n didn't know much about her soulmate. In a system where everything marked on your soulmates skin crosses on yours, she knows from the seemingly many doodles that appears on the plan of her hand that he is an artistic person. She knows from the way her knees would appear scraped at times meant that he was either athletic or desperately clumsy. She knows that by the scar that daunted on her cheek that he got in a ’fight’ with his brother. She also knows from the random dick drawings that appear on her forehead that he has the most chaotic of friends.

Jungkook would like to say he knew a lot about his soulmate. He knows by the way tiny little hearts would appear near his doodles that she wasn't the most artsy person in the world, but she could draw a damn to near perfect heart. He knows by the way that small little freckles would gloss over his skin that she was an outgoing person. He knows by the way that shallow cuts would appear on his arms and fingers that she had an asshole cat. He also knows that by the way tiny reminders would appear on his palm that she had a knack for forgetting things (he also knows that her handwriting might be the cutest thing he'd ever seen, but he may be a little biased).

They're sober to the fact that the other exist by the time they're 11. Jungkook was bored in class and started drawing little clouds, trees, the sun with shades on, the whole package on his arm. And then on the expanse of his palm would appear in large curvy letters, 'can you draw a cat?'.

He thinks back to the day and guesses that he didn't really understand the extremity of the situation back then. Everyone had a soulmate, but it was the first time he'd actually 'talked' to his.

He didn't gasp or scream or shed a tear, only complying with her request and drawing a cute little cat next the tree trunk. He'd think he was hallucinating about the request until he watched as a ribbon was drawn and coloured in the middle of the cat's head.

The next week, he would have a fight with his brother that had ended in him getting a cut on his cheek. He doesn’t worry about it, only locking himself in his room and sulking in his sheets. It’s when a few words appeared on his palm that he finally sat up with a smile on his lips. She would write down if he was okay because a cut had appeared on her cheek.

��I’m sorry’ he’d write.

‘it’s okay my daddy said I look cool’ she would reply, and his cheeks would flush because his mom had always said that a woman’s face was her pride. Jungkook had never understood it back then, because if he could be covered in dirt after a fun game of soccer, and still be called adorable, why should it matter what a girl’s face looked like?

She’d ask what happened and Jungkook would bite down an embarrassed whine. ’My brother said I played with the computer too much so I threw a pen at him’.

‘did you win?’ She’d ask a second later.

’No it hit the floor and bounced to my face’.

‘and then he laughed at me’

‘your brother sounds stupid’

‘he is stupid’

They didn't talk more than that, they were still young and the whole soulmates thing hadn't made sense yet. Jungkook still drew his doodles on his arm and she'd add little details (mostly hearts) around them, a tiny reminder that she was there.

It was barely considered a means of communication but it had morphed into a sense of comfort for Jungkook. He draws the little doodles, sometimes it was of a cat (He would never admit it but he'd learn how to draw a cat because he knew she liked cats). And each time without fail, she'd draw a tiny ribbon on its head.

And then Jungkook entered high-school and he met his friends. His stupid, chaotic, love them to death friends and his soul mate was still there, drawing little heart across his skin. The boys say its cheesy (as cheesy as it is to the fact that she's literally his soul mate) but he really hadn't given a shit.

He'd considered himself a romantic throughout the years, although he's gotten not a single bit of experience, he cries at the ending of titanic every single time and his ideal way of proposal is during the sunset walking across the shoreline of the beach, nightlights littered in the scenery and him on one knee, asking to marry his one and only soulmate.

He tries his best to keep up a mature kind of facade for his soul mate. Afterall, that was what they were into right? Older and more mature men. Sure, they'd like bad boys too, but honestly Jungkook bruises like a peach. His act of maturity consists of drawing thing with 'deeper meaning'. And yes, maybe a cat surfing on the beach tides has a deeper meaning, you never know.

His act is ruined when one day, he falls asleep during lunch after a long night of overwatch (in which he dominated by the way) and wakes up to Taehyung snickering beside him, looking at him with the largest shit eating grin he’d ever seen. Jungkook would shake his head and roll his eyes, dismissing whatever it was that he did.

Later during class, everyone kept giving him weird looks, and his teacher even laughed at the sight of him. It wasn’t until multiple frowney faces appeared on his arm that he really realized that something was wrong. His heart skipped a beat when he answered back with question marks written along her doodles.

‘there’s a dick drawing on my forehead :(’ she’d rely with the same curvy letters he’d gotten used to. And then there was a sound that had left his mouth. A mix between an angry scream and a surprised gasp with a little bit of an embarrassed groan. He’d then realize he was still in the middle of class and that every one of his classmates were staring at him.

His teacher would give him some sort of look between annoyed and amused, and finally asks ’so you finally realized huh?’. Jungkook would splutter on his words and immediately turn towards Jimin and Taehyung. It was barely a second before Jimin had shook his head and pointed at Taehyung. He would finally lift his hand off his mouth and bursts out laughing for a minute or two before outright choking, tears in his eyes.

That day, Jungkook along with Taehyung and (for some reason) Jimin would be sent to the discipline teacher. Jungkook wouldn’t give a shit about being sent to devil’s incarnate, only silently punching Taehyung’s shoulder and cussing it out at him for making him look like a fool to his soulmate.

When he’s home (after a lecture from his mom, a pat on the back from his dad and a high five from his brother), he locks himself in his bedroom and takes a pen from his bag, writing apologies all over his arm. She’d reply a minute later, saying it was okay.

His fingers would then drum along his arm, his leg jumping up and down, trying to figure out what else to say to her. He’d get up the courage and ask her what was her name. She’d respond with y/n and he’d have a smile riding up his lips, saying her name again and again, realizing that he loved how it felt to say her name.

Then the two of them would keep talking to each other, Jungkook constantly rolling up his sleeve to make some room for more words. They would spend the whole night getting to know each other and filling up a whole decade of silence. When they had run out of room to write, she would go on and ask for his number so they could text instead, and Jungkook would get up to his feet, jumping up and down on his heels. He wouldn’t waste a second to write down his number on the little space he had left.

The next day, he had woken up with an especially good mood. An extra jump on each of his step, a large grin on his face as if he hadn’t gotten into trouble for having a dick drawn on his forehead just the day before. Taehyung would expect a more than pissed of Jungkook, maybe a little bit of pettiness in the mix, but Jungkook shows nothing but adoration for him, even going as far as to buy him the apple juice he knows he loves from the convenience store nearby.

Texting her falls so easily in his routine. One second, he’s hesitant to text her, afraid to show her just how much of a dumbass he could be, another second, he’s called her the fifth time in a day because he swears a baby just gave him a nasty look. They connect quickly. She finds out the reason she suddenly gets eye bags after a full night’s sleep with because her idiot soulmate had spent the whole night screaming at wario for cheating at Mario kart.

Taehyung says it’s sickening to see just how lovey dovey Jungkook was (Jimin says it’s nice to see him so in love, but they both knew he secretly hated it too). The way his eyes light up at the sight of her name appearing on his screen.

He gets in trouble more nowadays though, teachers having caught him talking to his soulmate on his arm, and the most embarrassing time they read out his not-so-failed attempts of flirting off his arm to the whole class. Let’s just say he’d gotten teased for the life of him when it reached his brother’s ears (though he supposes his brother isn’t any better when he would literally be a make shift carpet if his soulmate asked for it). The Jeon boys treat their women like proper queens and won’t settle for anything less.

The first time they video call, Jungkook has fixed his hair for the hundredths time, a comfortable (and new that he bought just for this occasion) sweatshirt hung loosely on his shoulders. She’d asked if it was okay if they could do a video call the day before and Jungkook being as whipped as he was, of course agreed with her, only regretting not to be the one who asked first.

He’s so tense that when his phone starts ringing, he nearly chucks it off to the wall. He forces himself to calm down before setting it up on the table and pressing the green button after taking a deep breath. He looks at the screen and watches as her face appears. His heart almost bursts, because he’s thought of this moment a million times. He’d expect her to be something like a glowing figure, that she’d resemble a star and that her voice would sound like a serenading angel.

She’s nothing like he’d expect. She’s not glowing like an angel. Her camera has bad lighting and he could see a few strands of her hair sticking out. When she says hello, it isn’t like an angel, her voice isn’t smooth, a little raspy. But she still manages to surpass all his expectations, and he realizes she’s so much better than he’d ever imagined. His heart beats faster and faster because she’s only said one word, and Jungkook is already falling for her. She’s not perfect, but she’s perfect for him.

It’s going well, very well. There’s a way that she makes him feel, a way that just brightens up his day, and when they have their video calls and she laughs at one of those lame jokes that he’d gotten from one of his friends, her voice just soothes him, lets him relax into his seat and just watch as her eyes crinkle in joy.

 It starts to become a routine, the video calls are weekly but the texting is daily. Whenever he’s nervous about an upcoming exam, he calls her and just listens to her talk about her day, lets her voice fill his ear and calm his nerves. And then she would get off track and asks why is it that he had called her and he’d brush it off, he called to hear her voice, but he won’t say that because it’s too cheesy and he has a reputation to keep.

It’s during one of his classes that he feels it, a gut wrenching feeling deep in his stomach that has him groaning. It’s a different type of pain, nothing like nausea or a muscle cramp, because he’d always considered himself as a person with a great pain tolerance, but at that moment, he had just felt like curling in a ball and crying. Jimin and Taehyung would take him to the clinic immediately, and he’d just have tears rolling down his cheeks, and he’s sniffling and making these weird choking sounds when he tries to smother down his sobs.

He stays there for a while, the curtains draped closed with Jimin and Taehyung just rubbing his back soothingly. He tries to calm down, but every so and then, a sob bubbles up to his chest and a new wave of tear roll down his cheeks. It stays like that for an hour and the pain in his stomach travels up to his chest. His right arm starts to ache and dizziness starts to seep in his head. He falls asleep in the clinic bed, his whimpers slowing down and his eyes drooping heavily.

When he’s back at home, he doesn’t try to talk to his parents. They’d come visit now and then, giving a few hugs and pats on the back. His brother would come by when Jungkook had calmed down a bit, ruffling his hair and saying ‘it’s going to be okay’. But that’s the thing, there isn’t an ‘it’ to be okay. For all he knew, ‘it’ was all okay, everything was going okay in class, but then there was this rush of emotion that came over him and he’d just double over in pain. There was this burning sensation in his gut, something that hadn’t been building but more of an eruption. And then it would slowly cascade to his chest, and then he’d start crying and crying, choking on his sobs.

He’s in his sheets, listening to the sounds of pans clanging from the downstairs kitchen. His mom was cooking dinner, but he doubted that he’d go down to have some himself. The sound of the washing machine clashing against itself. That old thing was always just waiting to give out. The sound of the TV running from the living room. There was always some sort of game his dad would be watching, cheering on for teams he’d never even heard of. These are all sounds he’d never realized he’d taken comfort into. Such meaningless things that were just always there, a consistency that had always reassured him in some way.

He’d just lays there, listening to his own heartbeat. For the first time in hours, he feels relaxed and his breath relax into a steady pace. His eyes almost drift to sleep, because It's been a long day and Jungkook feels exhausted, but then there’s this loud blaring noise that breaks the silence. He knows what it is, someone had gone up and called him again. It would be the sixth call he’d get from his friends.

Only it turns out that it wasn’t his friends, it wasn’t Jimin, nor Taehyung or even Yoongi. It was her, and it terrified him because he’d always smile at the sight of her name, but there was this raw and intense feeling that had him wanting to decline the call. It terrified him because she’s his soulmate and supposedly the ’love of his life’ but he had wanted nothing more than to hang up the call. And it just stays like that, him wallowing in the fact as his phone had stopped ringing, and then a few seconds pass and her name appears again. His arm would suddenly feel heavy at the weight of the phone in his hand. Slowly, he would finally tap on the green button.

Her voice hits him like a wave. Jungkook doesn’t even have the chance to say anything when her voice starts filling his ears. Her voice is raspy and broken, there’s sniffling and whimpering as she rushes through her words. ’I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry’ she whispers in uneven breathes, and he would have stopped her, to comfort her and ask her why she was crying and that ’it’ was going to be okay. But then there is this sudden realization that hits him that ’it’ wasn’t going to be okay, and he probably wasn’t going to be okay. So, he just sits there as new tears roll down his cheeks.

When she finally speaks, everything just dawns on him. He felt like he was dying because his soulmate had kissed someone, he felt like dying because his soulmate had kissed someone that wasn’t him, he felt like dying because his soulmate’s first kiss wasn’t him, and will never be him. And then all of her other words just go straight through his other ear. He doesn’t hear it when she says that she didn’t want it, or when she says that she didn’t know it was going to happen until it happened, or when she says that she also felt the pain, the suffocating and unrelenting pain, that she also felt like she was dying.

He hears it when she says she loves him.

Jungkook has always one for cheesy romances and tear-jerking speeches. He imagines their first exchanges of ‘I love you’ to be at night, with a sea of stars sunken in the night sky because that was where they would have their first kiss. She would have his jacket that was a little too big for her on her shoulders because the night was breezy and his mom raised him to be a gentle man. Her hands would be in his because she always has cold hands and he always has warm hands.

He would talk about the ‘old times’ like when he had drawn those little cats for her or when he’d waken up to many frowney faces along his arm because his friends yet again drew dicks on his forehead (he should really get some proper sleep). And then he’d try to coax a few tears out of her and end it off with ’I love you’, and because this was Jungkook’s imagination of how things would go, she would also say I love you, and they’d kiss in the night sky.

Jungkook then realizes that nothing he’d imagined will ever go as planned, that they will never have a first kiss, because she’d already had hers with some random asshole, and that they’d never have their first ‘I love you’, because she had already said it through the phone while they were both out of breath and sobbing every drop of tear from their bodies.

He doesn’t realize it, but when he’d finally gotten out of his phase, the call had already ended and his cheeks had become tear stained and his sobs had calmed down to weak whimpers. He realizes that he’d just hung up on her after she’d said she loved him, and he just panics, because she’s going to think he doesn't love her and he should immediately call her and tell her that he loves her, because he does, he loves her like he’d never loved anyone before.

He’d started talking to her in his sophomore years and he was now a senior, and she'd been there in every step of the way. But he just doesn't, he doesn’t tell her he loves her, he doesn’t call her, because he doesn’t trust himself if he does. And she doesn’t call back either.

There are a few times when Jungkook forgets that y/n is his soulmate. He doesn’t know what he’d expect when he doesn’t talk to her in a week. It starts off small. He catches himself dozing off, looking into the distance and zoning out. His friends would ask him if he was okay and he’d reply with ’I’m fine’, even though he knew he wasn't, and that he knew they wouldn’t believe him anyway, because who the hell would be fine yet walk into the classroom with puffy and bloodshot eyes.

And then when class goes on like normal, he’s moving his leg up and down, fingers drumming along the desk, because he swears class had never been this long before. He realizes later that class had always gone on so fast because y/n was always there for him to talk to. He looks back at it as if it had happened years ago, as if he hadn’t talked to her in decades.

The truth is that they haven’t talked in no less than three days, yet he’s been missing her as if he’d gone days without a limb. A piece of him feels missing, torn apart from him and left out to dry. It’s a weird feeling, a suffocating feeling that has him yearning for her, that has him filling his mind with nothing but her. He supposes that was the thing with soulmates, when they were together, it had felt like he was he was over the moon, as if nothing could ever go wrong in his life, but when they were apart, it felt like he was missing a part of himself.

She would nag at him whenever he was bombarding her with doodles on his arm, waiting for her attention so she could drag him from his boredom of class. She’d say ‘you have class’ and he’d say ’I also have a soulmate, and I’d rather pay attention to her’. His friends would tease for it, for flirting and dancing around with her as if it was a game of push and pull, as if she wasn’t his soulmate.

That’s the thing that terrifies him, because as far as he had ever known, having a soulmate was the best feeling in the world. It’s all rainbows and roses, because it had meant that there will always be that one person that just gets you, that just loves you unconditionally for all your flaws and perfections, all your quirks and mishaps. That one person that will always be there for every step of the way. He yearns that, the comfort of knowing there was someone the universe had picked just for him, the missing piece to his puzzle.

And then he meets her, and he realizes just how perfect she is for him.

And then the whole fiasco happens and he realizes just how much it would hurt if he didn’t get his happy ending, because he knows it wasn’t uncommon for soulmates not to work out, usually from the intensity of their emotions for each other.

Having a soulmate had also meant other things. It meant that when you were together, you’d feel the happiest you’d ever be, but if you weren’t, you’d dread every second of your life. You’d feel pain, you’d feel nauseous, you’d feel your body start to crumble. Having a soulmate was almost like a drug, something so addicting that your body starts to dysfunction when you go a day without.

Jungkook still feels it sometimes, when he’s managed to get her out of his mind. There was this sudden jolt of pain that shoot up his chest, causing him to lose focus. And then all he can think about is her, her, her. He wonders if she feels it too, if she misses him too, if she thinks of him too. He realizes how stupid he is, because his phone is right there in front him, and he could end all of this with just one button.

Truth is he’d stopped mulling over the whole kiss thing a while ago, and that he should’ve called her a long time ago, but he was scared, scared of his own emotions, scared of how much he loved her, scared that this whole thing is going to destroy to him.

He wants to talk about this with someone, to anyone, but then it dawns on him that the only person he really wants to talk to about this was his soulmate, and that she was the only person he should be talking to about this. So, he picks up his phone and presses on the name he’d been missing for what felt like decades now.

She answers after no less than a few seconds. She speaks after a second’s hesitation, and her voice is filled with the sort of hope, as if she has done something wrong. Jungkook cuts her off when she starts on her little ramble (a habit he’d learn she had over the years) and apologizes, two words that hits her as hard as a brick. ‘I’m sorry’ he’d say again, and again and again. He says it until he can hear her start crying on the other end of the call. He knows she’s crying in a way that she’s trying to hide it from him, but he’d still hear her weak sniffles and whimpers.

It breaks his heart because he knows he never should’ve hung up on her that day, that he should’ve said that it was never her fault that ‘it’ happened, that he never thought of ‘it’ as her fault, that he was sorry ‘it’ had to happened in the first place

There’s a lot of things he realizes that he should have told her, so he doesn’t give her the time to say anything before he gets everything off his chest. He tells her everything. He tells her that he had never been upset with her, that he was upset with what happened to her. He tells her that he’s scared, no— terrified of how strong his feeling are for her, that the pain he felt that day was never what he’d ever experienced before. He tells her how much he had missed her during his period of stupidity when he decided not to talk to her, that he’d thought of her every second of the day.

And she just swallows in everything he tells her, listening to every word he says without a single interruption. And then they talk, talk, and talk until they shed more tears, because they’d never realized it, but they had always needed this. It’s a bit like clearing the air, speaking up about every and any hesitations they’d have.

They talk until their voices go dry and their eyes droop heavily. It isn’t until then that Jungkook realizes he hadn’t had a good night’s rest in days. Sleeping had always come easy to him, but during the past few days, he would lay down in his bed and just had this queasy and tense feeling.

When they’re nearing the end of the conversation, he knows there’s this one thing he hadn’t said yet, and he knows she’d been waiting for it too, those three simple words that had meant everything to them. He wants to say it, but there’s this one nerve in his stomach that causes his throat to close up when he tries to.

She finally ends the call after hours and hours of talking about their feeling and what they’d miss. Jungkook would again take out his pen, and write the words he’d meant to say in the palm of his hand. I love you.

Jimin shares a look with Taehyung when Jungkook comes to class the next day (he’s always late and it’s definitely not because of his poor excuse of a sleeping schedule), and the next thing he knows, they’re just screaming and hollering before running towards him. Jungkook swears he’s never felt more scared than he was at that moment, with the sight of his two best friends sprinting as if they were about to run them over like the untimely death of Mufasa.

And then they just hug him, stuff him with pats on the back and intense noogies. Jungkook just stands there, accepting it with the most confused expression ever. They go on about how glad they are that he got over whatever it was that had set him in such a sour and glum mood the past week and it puzzles him because he doesn’t remember being that much of a debbie downer.

They prove him otherwise by listing all the reasons he was such a pain to hang out with, because he’d somehow turned into a dictionary of depressing jokes and emo quotes. They end up finishing each other’s sentences, locking eyes when they say the same words and giving each other a bunch of high fives (Jungkook sometimes feels sorry for whoever their soulmates are, because the two of them are so in sync that they were already each other’s soulmate).

They’re interrupted when the teacher finally enters the class and tells everyone (specifically the two of them) to take a seat. They turn to Jungkook one final time and give him a pat in the back because they’re genuinely happy that the kid had no longer seemed so miserable.

Jungkook hadn’t thought hearing ‘I love you’ would change much for him. He’d heard it a dozen times from his parents (never from his brother, but let’s be honest, that’s to be expected) an amount more than you’d expect from Jimin and Taehyung (although Taehyung would say it more to annoy him and it works every single time), three times from Namjoon (which makes him grin more than it should) and once from Yoongi (now that one he wears like a golden medal).

Hearing it from his soulmate hits him in a totally different way. The conversation they had led them to get more comfortable in their relationships, this time acknowledging each other in a more romantic way. The way she says ‘I love you’ during insignificant moments like during a goodnight text or his after his daily ramble on how his friends are a pain in the ass sends him in a sort of high. It makes him giggle and flush and swoon all in the same time. It makes him feel things in a way he never knew he could.

Jungkook would learn that he shouldn’t plan things out as much as he used to, lets himself enjoy the moment for a while. Takes one step at a time, and this time he’s not as terrified to his wits anymore. It turns out when he's not worrying about all of his 'plans', time happens to move so fast.

When he finally sees her, she's got her back turned towards him, she hasn't noticed yet.

Jungkook takes a moment to take it all in. Sparks don’t fly, his hands don’t sweat and his breathing doesn’t pace. There is no nausea or nervousness that bubbles up in his stomach. When he sees her, his heart starts beating faster, but it beats in a way that you see something familiar after a long time, there is this sort of comfortable feeling. There’s a moment of complete peacefulness and serenity when he sees her. He’d never felt more at home.

When she sees him, her knees almost buckle, because he’s there. The boy, the dumbass, her soulmate that she’d been talking to for years now is finally there, and he’s waiting for her, looking for her. Her eyes almost well up in tears and she hates it because she swore to herself, she’d done cried enough times in their relationship, she doesn’t need to add another one to it.

She cries anyways, and she guesses she doesn’t hate it that much after all. Jungkook had managed to overturn all her expectations of their relationship that she’s not surprised that he pulls this either. She’s always known that her forgetfulness would bite her in the ass one day and she guesses she can’t be mad when this happens.

‘4:30 java time café pick up’ and right below on her palm is his handwriting, the handwriting she’s grown to adore and look forward to all these years, is written ’I found you’.

[taetaespeaches]

“You’re not buying our kids $600 shoes.”

namjoon x reader (or oc) genre: fluff word count: 2.1K

a/n: This fic takes place around the time Namjoon showed off those cute little baby shoes in his studio :( so early 2019?? so Joon and Daisy have been going strong a few months shy of a year and well, they’re already talking about babies (in the future) because you know, why not? They’re soulmates, they know what they want. Thanks for reading and I hope you all enjoy! :))

WITH your heavy workload, you hadn’t been able to visit Namjoon in the studio for quite some time and you missed it. There was a special appreciation you felt for the man as you watched him in his element.

Choosing to take a long lunch, you picked up some food and decided to surprise your man with some takeout and, well, you. Knowing the door was unlocked, you chose to knock anyway, just to tease your boyfriend by making him get up to answer the door.

“Come in,” his voice called out, you smirking to yourself as you simply knocked again. “Yeah, come in,” he welcomed again. One more knock, and you were met with silence as you awaited his appearance in the door frame. It didn’t take long for him to cross the space of his studio, the door opening to reveal you, leaning against the wall as you held the bag of food down at your leg.

“Delivery,” you smirked, Namjoon’s lips spreading into a happy grin as his eyes widened and brightened in excitement.

“Daisy,” he greeted happily, “Babe, what are you doing here?” He asked, stepping toward you, wrapping an arm around your lower back, pulling you into a sweet kiss.

“Well this is just way too much food to eat by myself,” you joked, gesturing to the bag by lifting your hand slightly. “Plus, I missed you,” you kissed him again. “Missed seeing you work,” you mumbled against his lips.

“I missed you too,” he replied with a grin. “Get in here,” he told you as he tugged you forward, pulling you both inside the studio before he shut the door.

You always loved Namjoon’s studio. It was perfectly decorated to represent his personality, and he took great pride in the space. The room had always been very comfortable. Like a second home.

“How long do I get you for?” He asked as he took the bag from you, setting it on the table the sat in front of his sofa.

“Um,” you thought as you looked around the space, noticing small changes in the placement of certain figures and books. “I have about an hour.”

“That’ll do,” he grinned, approaching you once again, taking your hand in his, leading you to the couch. “Thank you for visiting,” he told you genuinely. “And for the food,” he added, nodding toward the takeout boxes.

“Don’t thank me yet,” you smirked, “I could have brought all seafood, you don’t know yet.”

Looking to the boxes with wide eyes, Namjoon took a moment to crack a smile. “Then I’ll watch you eat,” he countered, you giggling as you reached to open the boxes, revealing various dishes Joon loved. “You’re amazing,” he complimented, placing a hand on your thigh as he leaned toward you, leaving a kiss to your exposed neck.

“It sounds like work should slow down a bit pretty quick then, right?” He asked, wiping his hands on a napkin as you reached to close up the boxes, having devoured the meal.  

“Yeah, hopefully,” you confirmed. “If everything goes to plan.”

“I’m sure it will,” he assured you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Thanks, Dimples,” you smiled graciously. “Are you working on anything right now?” You asked, nodding to the computer.

“Ah,” he exclaimed excitedly, you smiling fondly at his reaction. “The song is about done but I’ve been recording some adlibs to be added into the vocal sections. Just a bit. Right now they’re divided.” Humming in thought, you nodded. “You want to hear it?”

“Yes, please,” you replied enthusiastically, Namjoon standing and quickly approaching his computer.

“How much time do you have left?” He asked as he sat in his chair, you checking your phone for the time.

“Uh, ten minutes,” you told him, Namjoon nodding as he pulled up the track.

“Perfect,” he whispered as he clicked a few things before starting the song. “Ok, tell me what you think.”

The song started with a groovy R&B sound, and you instantly knew it would be a fan favorite. Jimin started with the first verse, his vocals light and airy and as perfect as ever. Then Taehyung sang a verse, the vocals richer and just as good. When Namjoon’s verse kicked in, you sat up, taking in the words and the delivery. The man knew exactly what he was doing when it came to music and he never failed to amaze you.

“This song is incredible, holy shit,” you told him. “You sound great.” The man turned in his chair to flash you a thankful smile, a slight shyness in his features. No matter how many times you complimented him, he never did get used to it.

The song was the kind of song that you almost just couldn’t help but dance to. It was also the kind of song you didn’t want to end. However, the ending was absolute perfection with Jungkook and Taehyung switching line for line before Taehyung did a small run, marking the official completion of the track.

Namjoon stared at you expectantly, you tossing your hands in the air. “That’s a fucking bop, babe, oh my god,” you smiled. “I’m obsessed with that, play it again.”

Chuckling at your sincere enthusiasm, he dipped his head down, looking toward his lap. “It’s good?”

“I think the words I used were a fucking bop,” you clarified. “It’s so good, I think your fans are going to lose their minds over that one.” The man breathed out a sigh of relief, looking at you with bright eyes as he smiled. “You said you’re recording adlibs?”

“Yeah, just to make the song sound more cohesive and rich,” he told you, you nodding quickly in understanding.

“I think that would be good,” you agreed, pretending as though you knew anything about music production. You had no real clue what you were saying, but you knew Namjoon sometimes just needed a boost in confidence over his decisions. “You know what’s best,” you assured him. “It’s going to be even better when it’s all done.”

Giving you a shy smile, he nodded his head a single time, almost as if he was respectfully bowing at you, making you giggle. “Thank you,” he said genuinely, you waving him off.

“Now, play it again,” you grinned. “I need to place it in my memory so I can replay it until the album comes out.”

Laughing, Namjoon turned back to the computer, restarting the track. As you listened, you began cleaning off the small table, placing the boxes in the bag before taking it to the trash can that sat across the room. The song filling the room, you looked around at Namjoon’s belongings, appreciating his collection of toys and figures. He was beyond endearing.

And then you spotted them. And your heart fluttered before butterflies formed in your belly. Utterly endearing.

You could feel Namjoon’s eyes on you as you reached for the small pair of shoes, holding them against your chest. Turning to face your soft boyfriend, you pouted. “What are these?”

Flashing his dimples at you, he chuckled shyly, covering his mouth in slight embarrassment as he lowered the volume on the track, which you later learned was titled ‘Home’. “I thought they were cute.”

“You’re cute,” you told him, looking down at the shoes. “Who buys baby shoes because they think they’re cute?” You giggled. “Oh my god, I love you so much.”

“Come here,” he told you, smiling widely at your reaction to the objects. Walking toward him, you carried the shoes in one hand, your other hand resting on his shoulder as his arms wrapped around your thighs. Tugging on you, you complied, sitting on his lap, placing the shoes in your lap.

“They are very cute,” you cooed, Namjoon smiling against your cheek before pressing a kiss to it.

“They would be super cute on a baby too, don’t you think?” He questioned, his shy demeanor mixing with his forward question.

“Do you ever think about having children together?” You asked him, skipping the passiveness of his hints, boldly jumping into the topic.  

Smiling softly at you, he rested his dimpled cheek against your shoulder, toying with the little fringe on the shoe in your lap. “Why do you think I bought these?” Turning toward him, you kissed the side of his head affectionately.

“You’re the most adorable man ever,” you complimented, Namjoon letting out a breathy laugh at your comment. “You know I think about it too, right?” You asked him, Namjoon humming thoughtfully. “Someday. Like, I can wait to have kids, but I can’t wait to have kids with you,” you told him, causing Namjoon to lift his head to look into your eyes. “Does that make sense?”

Nodding his head, he shot you a dimply close-mouthed grin. “I can’t wait to have kids with you either,” his smile opened beautifully. Placing his forehead against your own, your hand moved from his shoulder to hold the side of his face.

“I seriously can’t wait to make you a dad, babe,” you pouted, Namjoon kissing your pouted lips quickly. “I almost think you were born to be a father.” Above all else, Namjoon really wanted children. It was his dream to be a dad, which you had briefly talked about before but never in depth. But you knew how excited he was about the possibility of having kids in the future, and it was impossible not to think about that possibility being a shared future. You knew Namjoon would be a natural at parenthood, and that was confirmed by the way his eyes teared up at your genuine compliment.

“I love you so much,” he confessed passionately, emphasizing the words in a way that told you he meant the confession with every fiber of his being as he kissed you once more. “I’m so excited to see you be a mother, babe, I think about it more than I’m even willing to admit,” he chuckled, you giggling with him, resting your cheek on his as you kissed the side of his nose through your smile.

“One day,” you told him. “I promise.” You moved to kiss is cheeks, peppering his face in pecks, the man squeezing the tops of your thighs as he laughed.

“These will probably be out of style by then, huh?” He thought out loud, patting the little shoes you still held onto.

“Mm, the little one could bring back the style. We’ll be raising a trend setter,” you smirked, Namjoon’s eyes widening in excitement. Oh god, combining fashion and children had to be Namjoon’s ultimate fantasy. Lifting the shoes to inspect them further, you pulled your eyebrows together skeptically. “Joon, are these designer?”

“Hm?” He questioned, pretending he didn’t hear your question.

“Namjoon. How much were these?” The man evaded your gaze looking back to his computer to check the time. “Joon.”

“Ah, dang it, it looks like your lunch hour is up,” he shot you a pout, you holding back a smile as you shook your head at him.

“$400?” You questioned, the man shaking his head. “More?” Namjoon shrugged. “$500?” Silence. “Namjoon, no,” you fought back your growing grin. “$600?”

“Not quite,” he countered, you sighing as your lips fully curved upward.

“You’re ridiculous,” you told him fondly as you placed the shoes very carefully on his desk. “I’ll let you handle those.” Standing from his lap the man chuckled at your reaction to the overpriced baby shoes.

“They’re so cute though, look at them,” he defended in a whiny tone. “They’re worth it, aren’t they?”

Shooting him a slight glare, you hummed. “Sure, Dimples,” you teasingly agreed. “I’ll see you at home,” you bid him farewell, placing a kiss to his lips before you headed towards the door.

“See you at home, Daisy,” he called out, watching you walk away.

“I love you,” you told him as you created more distance between you both “but you’re not buying our kids $600 shoes,” you informed him as you opened the door.

“They weren’t even $600, stop exaggerating,” he smiled as you stepped outside.

“It’s not happening,” you yelled to him just before the door shut, separating you from the man until you both arrived home later that night.

As Namjoon sat in his studio, chuckling to himself fondly as he stared at the baby shoes, you walked down the corridor, giggling to yourself about the silly soft man that you absolutely planned to marry and have kids with one day. And though that day was still far off, you were both picturing it vividly in that moment. And it was perfect.  

[yellowsugarwords]

modern violet x reader hcs? <3

HERE WE GO BABY

Violet hated the private school her parents had sent her to.

It felt pretentious and rich.

Meant to “whip her into shape”.

Make her into a “proper young woman”.

Whatever that meant.

It wasn’t until she found like-minded people that it became tolerable.

Like Y/N.

It wasn’t until Y/N came along that it became tolerable.

They had met during a yearbook club meeting.

The only reason Violet signed up was so she could play video games.

The club had access to the computer lab 3 evenings a week.

Violet was all over that.

Y/N was the leader of the club,

And had accepted Violet without a second thought.

“We’re excited to have you!” They said.

Violet paid them no mind,

Heading straight for a computer,

Logging right into her gaming accounts.

Two weeks in, Violet hadn’t been questioned for her behaviour.

Y/N hadn’t asked for any yearbook updates.

Hell, they hadn’t even given her any tasks.

Violet didn’t know why.

Violet didn’t know if that was a red flag.

“Are we good?”

The words escaped Violet’s lips before she left one day.

Y/N was packing up alone,

And Violet was the last person to leave the office.

Y/N turned to Violet and smiled. “Yeah, why?”

Violet squinted. “I don’t ever get work.”

“I thought that’s what you wanted?”

Violet stared back, eyes wide.

Y/N chuckled.

“I saw you startup Steam in your first five minutes here.”

Violet sheepishly looked away.

“You’re more than welcome to be a part of the club to use the space. I don’t care.”

Y/N shrugged as they spoke,

Passively packing up the last of their things.

Violet furrowed her brows. “Why?”

She didn’t believe them.

Something felt wrong here.

Y/N smiled again. “Fuck the administration.”

With that, Y/N shrugged,

Leaving the room and heading down the hall.

“Close the door on your way out!” They called.

Violet was stunned.

Violet was smitten.

Violet couldn’t believe someone else at that shit school got it.

That someone else felt that way.

The weekend drudged on by.

Violet, eager to get back to school the following week.

For their next meeting, Violet sat down beside Y/N.

They turned to her and smirked. “What about your usual spot?’

“What about it?” Violet asked.

“All your work is on that one.” They said,

A subtle cover.

Violet smirked and shrugged.

“I think I’d rather sit here.”

Y/N’s eyes lingered on Violet’s for a beat longer.

The two smiled at one another,

A lingering gaze,

Before turning back to their respective ‘work’.

Their spots didn’t change in the passing weeks,

Violet slowly looking forward to her mindless chats with Y/N three days a week.

Over time, Violet stopped playing games.

She logged into her computer and opened some schoolwork,

Mindless crap she knew she needed to finish,

And then spent her hours admiring and chatting with Y/N,

Mesmerized by their energy.

“Hey, can we chat this weekend?”

Violet raised a brow, confused at Y/N’s question one evening.

“How?”

Y/N lifted her cellphone meekly.

“Can I give you my number?”

Violet froze,

Eyes wide and ears growing red.

Was this what she thought it was?

Was this Y/N flirting with her?

She nodded, unable to speak,

And put her phone number in without a second thought.

They texted all weekend.

Almost all day every day,

Spare for scarce times they were torn from their devices.

They texted through their classes,

(Whenever they could,)

And were attached at the hip whenever they were together.

Every time they were together.

Everyone at school assumed they were best friends,

Bonding over their love for the yearbook committee.

Little did everyone know the yearbook club, seemingly, was their front.

Their front for falling more and more for each other.

Their front for spending time together without causing disruption.

One day, after sending Violet a meme, Y/N glanced over to their yearbook club desk,

Watching their phone light up,

Catching their name with a heart beside it as the saved contact.

Their lips parted and they looked away,

Cheeks red, nervously flustered.

“Are you okay?” Violet asked, glancing up from her notes.

Ones she was rewriting for class.

Y/N just studied her,

And smiled,

Then shook her head.

“No,” they said softly.

But the pink and red on their face and chest only grew.

And Violet noticed.

A few minutes later, Violet felt a warm hand settle on top of her own,

And spotted Y/N beside her,

Reaching over under their desks,

Sweetly squeezing her hand in secret.

Violet laced her fingers their theirs,

Smiling to herself,

Both as smitten as could be.

By the time the club ended and they were packing up, it was just the two of them.

Violet slipped toward them, clearing her throat.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry, I know I’m being--”

As they turned to apologize to their favourite person’s face, they wer silenced,

Violet’s lips catching their own.

The two froze at first, stunned at how swiftly the kiss had gone.

They both stood stunned,

Red-faced and flustered,

Amazed that that had really just happened.

Without thinking twice, Y/N leaned in,

Capturing Violet’s lips again,

Smiling into it.

It was the start of something beautiful.

And long-lasting.

And pure.

𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 💌☕️♡

[purpleyellow]

Forbidden Project Pt3

BTS 8th member

Sunny’s masterlist

“The finale”

a/n: Your opinion is very important for me, send feedback and requests anytime 💜 Also, don’t be shy and interact a little, ask box is always open

“You wanted to talk to me?” Sunny knocked on Suga’s door and waited for him to open it.

Entering his studio, she sat down on the couch and waited for him to talk. Yoongi sat back down on his computer chair and spun towards her. “You need to talk to Namjoon about your little fight”

Shrugging her shoulders, Sunny leaned back on the couch “I already did. We’re moving past it”

“Well, you need to talk to him again, because this passive-aggressive thing you have going on isn’t doing us any favors” Yoongi slide in his chair and grabbed a folder from his desk, giving it to the girl “He keeps giving me any work that has to do with you because he doesn’t want to deal with it”

“Maybe you should talk to him about it. It sounds like it’s his problem not mine” 

“Sunny, you’re literally no different from him. Whenever someone confronts you like I’m doing right now, you put your guards up immediately” He scoffed when she adverted her gaze  “Just calm down a little and talk to him, hopefully, you’ll go back to normal. I have a lot of my own stuff to do already, I can’t do double the work because you’re both being petty”

Sighing, the girl got up and left the room. Flipping through the folder he had given her, she made her way to RM’s studio, thinking of some kind of game plan to access the situation. This time, she didn’t have to knock to enter the room, instantly grabbing the older boy’s attention. 

“Hello?” Namjoon said turning around and frowning at her. Showing him the folder, she approached him.

“Yoongi Oppa told me to give this to you,” Sunny said and noticed the computer screen opened with comments. “Are you on Vlive?”

“Yeah, do you need to talk?” RM grabbed the document and placed them on his desk, aware that Yoongi had told her to do more than just deliver some work. 

Matter of factly, this whole thing had been his plan. After thinking about the situation with an open mind, Namjoon figured out what he wanted to say to the girl, but without a clear opportunity to do so, he gave a bunch of his work to Yoongi and told him what to do.

“I can come back later” She looked over the screen and noticed some people commenting her name, crouching down a little she waved at the camera. “Hi, Army!”

Remembering that Jimin had dropped by a few minutes earlier, Namjoon thought people might find weird if he didn’t invite the girl to join him as he had with the boy. Plus, if she went away, his plan would go to waste. “People want you to stick around. Can you or do you have someplace else to be?”

Sunny thought she could use this chance to become more civil with him and, hopefully, they could talk calmly afterward, so she pulled a chair next to his and sat down.

Reading some comments and talking nonsense, they spent about fifteen minutes just chatting and joking around. Something on the back of their minds remembering them that they had to be as normal as possible so people wouldn’t notice the tension they have been dealing with.

“Well, guys that’s it for today,” Namjoon said cheerfully placing an arm around Sunny’s shoulder, to which she smiled at him and back to the camera “Keep an eye out for any surprises that might be coming your way. We’ll talk to you later”

Waving at the screen, he turned off the live, making sure it was really off, and leaned back on the chair. Sunny took his arm off her shoulder and he frowned.

“We should talk now” she said making a little space between their chairs. Supporting his elbows on his knees, Namjoon intertwined his hands and stared at her eyes.

“I need you to listen to me. Please don’t say anything until I’m done, and then you can call me whatever you want.” He waited for her permission and when she nodded he resumed speaking “I currently play two parts in your life. One is the leader RM, that has to take care of logistics and how things appear in front of the media, amongst other things obviously like taking care of members and check with-”

Sunny rolled her eyes at him trailing off “Cut to the chase, Oppa” 

“That RM messed up when he took care of your stuff without talking to you. But there’s also Namjoon, who helped you out since your debut. I remember having to comfort a seventeen-year-old Sunny after people spread rumors about you, I also remember how you would get uncomfortable whenever you had to dance in short clothes, or when people make suggestive comments.” 

“I got used to it eventually” Sunny started and he put a hand up cutting her off.

“I know you did. And I know you think you have a lot of life experience, but Sunny, life will kick you much more on the butt. You’ll never have enough experience to blind yourself against hate or weirdos out there, that’s why I try to ease the amount of stuff they can say as much as possible” Namjoon’s eyes were sad, and with each word he leaned forward, trying to get her to understand him. 

“Oppa, maybe I have to get my ass kicked to learn stuff. You can’t protect me all the time”

“But when I can I’ll do my best to help-” RM placed a hand on his chest.

“You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped” Sunny exclaimed shutting him up. “I’m grateful for having you by my side. Except that sometimes I want to make a jump and if you don’t let me do it, I feel trapped”

They spent a few seconds in silence, taking in the girl’s words “You want me to back off from your life?” RM’s tone was a little offended.

“No!” Sunny grabbed his hands and he saw her eyes fill with tears. “I want you to be by my side even when you don’t agree with my choices, because when I do break my face, I’ll need you to be there”

Namjoon sighed and gave little pats on her head. “It might take me a while to fully understand that, I feel way too responsible for you”

“I’m patient enough” Sunny gave him a tight lip smile and opened her arms for a hug. Getting up, they held each other for a while, when she suddenly remembered something else. “I’m sorry for being mad at you for too long”

“And I’m sorry for avoiding you,” Namjoon said resting his head on top of hers. “Also, sorry for referring to myself on the third person”

“It’s okay, let’s just forget all of this. For real this time”

[monstrousaffections1]

It’s Alright It’s Ok

I jump out of my bones as my father's angry yell erupts from the house like a slamming door. Instantly my heart feels the frost of fear glaze over the surface of my beating organ. Swallowing thickly I get off my bed and hide my computer under my bedsheets, closing it's lid to hide it's light. Silently slipping out of my bedroom I move into the hallway and walk past the laundry basket, heading into the kitchen where my parents argue, the tension that has been building for two weeks finally bursting open like a damn. I would give it a day, maybe two, before their bedroom door be locked while my father hurt my mother. Then it would take either myself or my sister bursting into tears to get them to stop fighting for another few months. Swallowing thickly, I kept my eyes down as I moved into the battle zone, Shadow, my cat, rubbed around my legs, demanding biscuits. He didn't care about the chaos, he was probably use to it by now. Opening the cabinet under the sink I got his food out as my father and mother screamed at each other.

"Shut up Carol!" The man yelled, his eyes bulging and veins pulsing in his neck. He was in my mother's face, screaming at her. The woman who had for ages from my childhood had mostly cried and screamed at this man to get off her, had began to fight back. She did that often. It only increased the fighting.

"You Shut Up!" She screamed back. I patted Shadow's back as he ate. He was a big black cat. Strong and in his youth. Going to the fridge I took a certain of milk and poured myself a glass, downing it quickly. The sound of the tv came from the lounge room. Going into the room I looked at my little sister who was watching one of my favorite cartoons. Kid vs Kat. Managing a smile, I took my place beside her. I always rooted for the cat. I don't know why, perhaps I just loved cats. Plus I could relate the mischievous chaoticness of the character. Or at least that's how I wanted to be. My mother's form entered the room just as the boy and the alien cat jumped into a cloud of dust meant to depict fighting.

"Ingrid, have you done your homework?" I sighed; couldn't she see I was trying to watch something?

"Yeah." I lied. I should have said I didn't have homework.

"Ok, well, let me have a look?" Although I appreciated my mother's involvement in school, as anyone who was anyone knew that my autistic brain couldn't understand anything the teachers gave me on paper. I also wished she wasn't as involved. I just wanted some space. I was sick of homework.

Begrudgingly I got up and went to my room, dragging my books out of my school bag and dumping them on the desk. I went and got a slice of left over pizza from the fridge and poured myself a cup of coke to try and calm my racing heart.

"Ingrid you have homework. Why did you lie?" I rolled my eyes, why did she think? I wished I had headphones like all the other kids at school. I just wanted to shut her out as she started to lecture me. Casting a blank wall around my brain I sat down at the table and started on the maths homework. My worst subject. Contrary to popular belief depicted in movies, not all autistic people are good at maths. I myself am a better at English than this. I had finished a six inch novel in a week. And I was the best story writer in class. But this doesn't matter much to the adults.

After being left alone to my own devices, I sat and stared at the first math question for about ten minutes before attempting to answer it. I know I am highly likely getting the answer wrong, but I just want to finish this and escape to my room. I wanna do this without my parents coming to help. Before I know it, it's seven in the evening. I've by now attracted the attention of my father who started by trying to help, has now ended up yelling after I have proved once again useless at math.

"Are you stupid!" he screamed at me as I sat with unwavering tenseness, staring at the page and refusing to move my gaze from the sheet. My chest was shaking. There was no other way to describe it. Outwards, I was calm. But inside my chest shook like a autumn leaf. I could feel everything building up inside me. I tried to level myself. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't start crying. I repeated in my head.

"For God's Sake Ingrid! This is easy stuff! A Year 1 could do this!" He hollered and slapped my arm with a ruler. I didn't so much as flinch. I didn't want to give him that satisfaction.

"Do you even go to school!!??" I felt the first hiccup as I clenched my eyes shut and my sobs burst from my chest.

"Oh, great. Now your gonna cry." He muttered seethingly as though my melt down was a inconvenience. Mother was already serving out dinner wordlessly. This was a regular occurrence in our house. Homework that should only take five minutes, took three hours. Trying desperately to numb myself I packed up my homework to continue with tomorrow and wiped my eyes on my sleeve, trying to stop crying so I could eat dinner.

It's four in the morning when I sneak out of the house, dressed in my black hoody and trousers and my school bag on my shoulders as I lock the door behind me, take a breath, and take off running down the street. My runners pound on the side walk as I breath in the cold air of the early spring chill. I need this. Cold air, freshness, darkness just before the sun rises. Cars that pass through the street don't bother with the site of a teen girl running through the streetlights as though she were being chased. Even when my legs ache and I feel like my lungs are about to burst I don't stop. The sun's rays are barely kissing the trees by the time I reach the cultural center of my town. My throat crack a bit as a I swallow, having been dried out from my panting breaths. Rubbing sweat off my forehead I straighten up and stare at the sky. For a moment I want to disappear into the purple abyss above me. That'd be nice. Perhaps it'd be like in my stories. Just.... A life worth living perhaps. That'd be nice.

"Language!!" comes a shrieking yell from across the street. Snapping back to reality I look over to the collection of shops opening for the morning. I smile, feeling a familiar sense of warmness fill my numbed core as Bad is laughed at by his best friend, Skeppy, as the demon boy opens the shop door, peering at me with friendly white eyes. "Marr?" he calls. My smile softens as he uses my preferred name. I approach, shoving my hands into my pockets as a show of nonchalance. "Hey Bad." I raise a brow with amusement. Though he isn't fooled. He never is. I find myself pulled into a hug before I can even protest. Closing my eyes I hug him back, savoring the physical contact. That is until there is a photo snap and the blue haired boy snaps a picture. I frown and pull away.

"Skeppy! Delete that right now." I grumble, folding my arms with a frown.

"Nah. I think I'll add a few heart emojis." He teases as I fluster and puff up my cheeks. The demon beside me frowns, though his smile shows, he can never be mad at his friend. Rolling his white orbs he looks down at me gently.

"Breakfast. On the house." Bad and Skeppy were the only people I trusted. They didn't ask questions. Or offer to call anyone. They just let me hang out with them before work hours if I didn't want to be at home.

Nodding my head, I entered the café and sat down in a booth. Bad squeezed my shoulder and started the coffee brewer as Skeppy set up the tables and chairs for the day. Folding my arms to keep my fingers warm after I had pulled some of my hair out of my hood, I looked up slightly. Trying to think of a good way to start conversation.

"Did you guys sleep ok?" is it alright to ask that to people you don't live with?

Our words went back and forth in friendly small talk. Occasionally Skeppy would swear and get playfully told off by his friend. I would just laugh. Everyone in life is super serious. So it feels nice sometimes to just be around two goofs. I was given an expresso and hot pie. I savored the warm gravy taste, I wasn't even stressed but it was hard to not scoff it. A few people were starting to come in now. People on their way to work, stopping for a coffee and picking up take away. I wondered if it was nice. Living in a steady sense of movement. Where everything was the same and you knew what to do. Instead of struggling to hold together a toothpick structure simply cause nothing makes sense. I've missed opportunities for jobs simply because they've been offered while I was in the middle of a shut down. Same goes for friendships, or dates with boys, because I will just stare at them with a dumb panicked expression for a good five minutes while I try and figure out how to respond. In the end I am mistook for either rude or stupid. I am neither—Well ok I can be rude sometimes. But I'm definitely not stupid.

Feeling my anxiety levels raise I scull the rest of my coffee. Bad's tail stands on end in alarm as steam comes out of my mouth. "Careful you Muffinhead! You'll burn your tongue!" I shrugged with a smirking grin. "Hey look. I'm a dragon." I blow more steam out of my mouth. Skeppy busts up laughing from the kitchen as the demon sighs, rolling his eyes he ruffles my head. "Muffinhead." He mutters with a smirk. I hold up the cup. "Re-fill?" my hoody sleeve falls down slightly and the movement. Bad's smile slips and his eyes widen. "Holy shit what happened to your arm?" Skeppy chokes on a cackle. "Bad!?" finding it hysterical that the normally passive demon actually swore. I blinked and checked over my arm briefly, ah. Right. Pulling my sleeve down to cover the red marks from the ruler I shrugged. "Nothing. I'm fine." The demon stares for a moment before sighing in defeat. "At least let me get you some ice." Seeing the opportunity, I snicker, "But it's freezing!" Bad rolls his eyes, "For your arm, you Muffinhead." I poked out my tongue playfully.

With a cloth full of ice resting on my arm and a fresh cup of steaming coffee in front of me, I watch the pair work. Skeppy's diamonds are starting to sprout out of his arm. I do wonder how that doesn't hurt. But I'm just glad I'm not that kind of hybrid. Not that I'm any kind of hybrid. Considering how much the world changed after the Rifting, it's surprising that I'm not physically different as I am mentally. Even my sister is a Hybrid, despite my parents being human. She's a dog, by the fur coloring I'd say she's a kelpie. A car pulls up in the parking lot. It looks old, but the good kind of old. Kind of vintage, but not fancy. Just old. Through the windscreen three boys fight and seem to be bickering amongst each other. A tired looking man gets out. I recognize him. That's Philza, he shows up at school every now and then whenever Techno gets into a fight, or Tommy's pranks go horribly wrong, or Wilbur sasses out the teacher one to many times. He's a hybrid, either that or an angel. It's hard to tell. But he enters the coffee shop and walks to the counter. Huge black wings folded against his back.

"Bad, morning." He greet cheerfully and tips his weird stripped hat he always wears. I never liked that hat. It made me dizzy. He reads out a bunch of orders from a piece of paper, something about one flat-white, a mocha, a caramel latte, and a decaf frappe for Tommy. Bad nods his head and asks Skeppy to handle the order. I frown and tilt my head a bit. The strangely serious demon comes out from behind the counter and takes Philza by the arm, talking softly with him. I blink in surprise when they both look subtly towards me. I look down at the welt on my arm, pulling down the sleeve I bring my hand to my mouth and start to chew on my thumb knuckle. It seems I have over estimated the level of trust I should have given Bad. Rocking back and forth a bit I pick up my coffee cup to down it in one go. Don't trust grown ups. I'm about to pull my hood up when Philza comes over to my table, smiling down at me softly. I stare up at him with confusion. Fiddling with my fingers nervously.

"Hello, your Marr, right?" He raises a brow, his green eyes glinting with humor. My face heats up, and I avoid his eyes. "Uh.. yeah.. I think so..." he chuckles at this and puts his hand on the chair on the other side of the table. "Can I sit hear?" I blink in surprise, teachers and my parents never asked permission before they did things. Atleast my mum never did when she went through my school bag. Nor my did my dad when he turned down the music on my computer. I nod my head, continuing to rock back and forth. Sitting down he took off his hat, putting it in his lap. I stared at his blond hair that hung down to his shoulders. A crooked smile came upon his face, before it faded slowly. "Are you ok?" I started to scratch my arm. "I'm fine." This was my default response to most questions. He nodded his head as if this was a appropriate answer, he didn't pry. "How do you plan on getting to school, do you take a bus?" I shake my head, shrugging. I normally walk. Which is why I'm always late. He chuckles and takes his hat, putting it back on. "Well mate, if you'd like I can give you a ride, no strings." He winks good-naturedly. I look down, thinking for a bit. I don't trust strangers, even people with kids my age are dangerous. I look at Bad, chewing my lip. The demon smiles warmly and nods. Ok, I guess I'll give it a shot. I nod, "Yeah.. ok."

The hybrid gets to his feet quickly, "Great!" just in time for his order to be declared ready. With crow like laugh he takes the tray. "Welp, come on! The boys'll kill each other otherwise." he chuckles and heads out the door. After a moment of hesitation I follow him. The boys seem surprised when they spot me. Through a open window Philza hands the tray to Techno, a piglin hyrbid. I try not to stare at his tusks, it's rude. "Wilbur scoot over." Philza instructs his eldest son, opening the door for me. Tommy and his brother exchange a look before Wilbur undoes his seatbelt of shuffle over. I feel awkward as I get in, doing up my seatbelt and doing my best to avoid looking at the boys. As Philza turns on the engine there is a awkward, surprised silence. Until there isn't. "Who's the woman!?" Tommy inquires loudly. I wince.

[ayankun]

WandaVision episode 6

FIRST OFF

Whenever I go back to pause things for clues, and find exactly what I’m looking for, I don’t feel justified, I feel that much more insane:

It’s really hard to make out, but I had an alright look at it on my folks’ QLED, and it’s definitely a flying saucer doing an alien abduction on what looks to be a person inside an old CRT TV (with some kind of robot head/boombox on top???)  There are secret aliens in this show, you guys, the facts don’t lie.

HmmmMMMM I wonder if Agnes is as innocent as she looks:

Also, I didn’t see that she was wearing the brooch in this ep, and I was majorly disappointed in that.

Two things here:

No, that’s not a twins joke.

Another Moonmen Confirmed

I know green is his color or whatever, but that hat is literally 10 years ahead of its time

Also, I took the playing-DDR-at-home scenario at face value, and only on the first rewatch did I realize it was a very pointed turn-of-the-century reference.  I am an Old.

There’s a good, subtle Rule of Threes in this ep.  The Setup:

The Sokovian Halloween flashback works on so many levels.  It’s so funny:

The fact that they went trick-or-treating at all

The “speaking Sokovian”

The treat being a fish

They have to share the fish

The concept that this event gave them an infectious disease

“You probably suppressed a lot of the trauma” -- it’s a good sitcom joke but.  the trauma is the joke.  The joke IS THE TRAUMA!!!

Elizabeth Olson is a dream with all her wonderful faces she has this ep.

Vision’s unsettling passive-aggression-sitcom-cooperation whiplash is WOW, consider me unsettled!!!!!!  “Be. Good.”  UGH.

(Just noticed one here, but there are a number of continuity errors in this episode, enough to be distracting later on, and is this a deliberate choice?  Please let it be deliberate.  I didn’t watch a whole lot of Malcolm in the Middle, is it known for its continuity errors?

)

“It’s their first Halloween.” LOLOLOL they are TEN YEARS OLD and this is their FIRST halloween I LOVE IT

DOUBLE RED HERRING CONFIRRRRRRRRMED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Agent Jimmy Woo accidentally identifying himself as the sassy best friend added 20 years to my life.

Found.  FOUND.  Not “created,” “manifested,” “willed into being using my insane witch powers.”  Third Party Confirmed.

I like that it’s the 90s and we can swear on TV now.  “Hell” “kick-ass” “damn it” “fu---dge”

I think the most biting part of Vision finding the whacked out folks is that the soundtrack just kind of ... ignores that anything’s wrong.  Yeah, it’s kinda-spooky Halloween music, but it’s still 100% in-world kinda-spooky-sitcom-Halloween-episode music. 

OKAY LET’S TALK ABOUT THE AD:

As a 90s child, let me tell you, this is a blisteringly accurate representation of children’s marketing from the period.  The shark is wearing sunglasses AND he has a surfboard!!!  And he’s selling you yogurt of all things!!!!!  This is the supreme distillation of what being a child in the 90s was like.

How disappointed I am that they went with crab instead of lobster.

Heard it through the grapevine that this is a representative of Wanda’s imprisonment on the Raft.  That happened in Civil War, right?  So the next ad is The Snap?  We’re running out of iconic decades, too. so, hold on, new thought.

90s: Civil War

00s: Infinity War

10s?????: Endgame???? or?????????

??: Whatever happened between Endgame and WandaVision, given that the ads are stepping forward through Wanda’s IRL life events!!

I don’t want to know how many episodes are planned/announced, but I don’t know what to expect from the format after they run out of decades from which to draw.  Maybe there are only one or possibly two “sitcom” episodes left.  Maybe after that it just breaks down and they can pick and choose from the worlds/styles we’ve already established.  That’d be p neat.  A very unique kind of chaos.

god she’s so cute

Okay, somebody explain to me Pietro.  I honestly walked away from last week thinking he was just some townsperson chump, but then I was reminded that this is the Quicksilver actor from all those X-Mans movies I never watched, soooo people are saying Multiverse Confirmed?  But, if this is X-Mans’ Pietro, then why did he die the same as MCU Pietro?  Or is he literally MCU!Pietro’s corpse, given that he looked all dead same as when she saw Vision’s corpse?  If MCU!Pietro, then why different face???

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

Also I found him highly suspicious, what with all the questions he was asking.  But the only sort of person who would truly want to know the answers to those questions would be someone who already had them ... so I think he was just asking on behalf of the audience, and the delivery was all wonked out.

Rule of Threes - The Reference:

Ok, real talk, whenever computers/networks/data/encryption/servers/mainframes et al come up in mainstream media, I just look away.  I don’t need the kind of psychic damage that comes with such egregious mishandling of the topic.

That being said, does Hayward having eyes through the barrier mean that he could possibly be involved in getting it set up?  Because look.  If Hayward-after-Hayward’s-Villianous-Ends is one antagonizing force, then is there really room for the Third Party (Confirmed) antagonizing force that’s lurking in the negative space silhouette of the Inciting Incident?  With Wanda as the Red Herring antagonizing force, that’s just.  There’s just too many villains, alright?  We gotta start merging these plotlines.

(then again, when I just said “eyes” I realize probably understanding the true nature of his new secret “CATARACT” project will clear a lot of things up.  I’ll wait for enlightenment)

Agnes’ license plate in this episode is 0A1-B2C, which I think is a reference to the way reality is getting pared down to bare bones at the edge of town.  Note that this is not the same license plate number as seen last ep.

ALSO, I drove home behind a NJ plate just an hour ago, and was staring at it for a long time, trying to fit it into the puzzle before A) realizing that this was Real Life and not part of the show and B) WTF is a NJ plate doing in front of me in California.  In any case, I can confirm that NJ plates do not appear to have this number-letter repeating format.

So let’s talk Agnes.

Demonstrated knowledge of the situation in ways others haven’t (”There’s the star of the show” “kids, you can’t control ‘em”)

Shows up when needed most (explained as being Wanda’s doing, but is it)

When Wanda was having her babies, though, who was trustworthy enough to be summoned?  Was it Agnes?

Wanted to babysit REAL BAD

Was in the opening credits framed possessively with the twins

Doesn’t appear to have an IRL identity according to Jimmy’s crime board

Keeps talking about her husband but we’ve never seen him.  Highly unlikely that he’s real

Was the one to find Sparky “dead” - internet thinks she was lying to Wanda about how or possibly if he was dead (I’m trying not to read the theories, so idk exactly what the angle is there)

In an episode where everyone is wearing their original comic outfits, Agnes is dressed as (and laughs like!) a witch

She name-drops Wanda as the one controlling everyone; Norm (or the guy playing Norm) only said “she” and “her” -- meaning Agnes?

Naughty

So we’re 99% sure Agnes is Agatha Harkness, right?  I never read no comics, so I’m taking the internet’s word for it, but from what I can tell, I think we must be right.  If that’s the case, then I’m thinking it’s not impossible for her to be pulling some strings around here (giving Wanda a justification for her “that wasn’t me” doorbell ring, for example, and pulling a double red herring on the fact that she shows up whenever the narrative Wanda her nefarious scheme calls for it).

To devil’s advocate myself, though, we also have Monica’s word that it was Wanda in her mind, lessening the impact of Agnes falsely confirming what Norm only implied.  Also she’d have to be acting for Vision’s sake (and ours) and, if so, then what did Vision’s brain-touch really do, and how did she know he’d find her there, and what did she intend as the result of that interaction etc etc.

If Wanda’s (or Wanda + Third Party Confirmed (Agnes??)’s) powers aren’t enough to sustain the simulation of life on the edges of town, how much worse is it going to be now that there is even more area to try to control???

I don’t know if this is strictly an intended read, but the idea of Halloween as a fun, scares-for-entertainment’s sake type holiday, the rounding off the edges of concepts like “skeletons and ghosts are what people are after they die, let’s decorate the town with them and have a good time” kind of is a haunting parallel to the nature of Wanda (et al) covering up the horrible truth of the situation with this happy-go-lucky sitcom glamour.

How much does one hate seeing Vision giving his life for the greater good (the greater good) for the second time?  In other news, I think I’m seeing some specifically Mind Stone type energy-colors coming off of him, and very little Wanda type energy-colors.  Third Party Confirmed.

Also, I was thinking from last week that perhaps Hayward’s Villainous Ends included capturing the reanimated Vision to be one of those Sentient Weapons his organization is all about, but I Do Not Think his reaction to seeing that sought-after prize disintegrate in front of his eyes really matches up with that theory.  Again, will be patiently waiting for Jimmy to check his email to see what CATARACT is all about!

Rule of Threes - The Payoff:

Also, anyone ID the movie playing in the background?

Ok, final thought.  I watched this about four times today, and on the big-ass TV at my parents’ house finally paused and got up close to see what that white shape is in the reflection.  Thought it might be a skull, but, it’s worse.

These caps do not contain enough data to verify my claim, but I PROMISE YOU it’s a TV

A square old thing with a round screen and antenna on top. 

I SWEAR to you, when I looked into the TV, into Wanda’s eyes, only to see the reflection of a TV, of her looking at me looking at her I had a visceral fear reaction.  Like.  LEGIT nauseous skin crawl.

(All the other episodes have ended with our POV as the fourth wall, from the general (or exact!!!) position their household TV is known to be.)

This is my favorite show Of All Time.

[bbmyungho]

Try Again - Yoongi

member/group: yoongi (suga)/bts

genre: fluff, a tiny bit of angst (???) if you squint

a/n: i’m sorry, i know this isn’t good, but i swear i’m trying, and i want to try to start incorporating more long fics into my masterlist (if that’s okay with you guys 👉👈). Anyways, here’s an only slightly corny Yoongi fic

“Hey y/n!”

I smiled at the sight of my friend, Hoseok, peeking his head out from one of the studios and waving me over frantically. “Hey, Hobi, whatcha doing?” I asked, coming nearer to the door.

“Nothing much, just working on a track. Come and listen!!” He said excitedly, not even giving me a chance to respond before he pulled me into the studio and shut the door as quietly as possible. I tensed immediately at the sight of Yoongi sitting in the desk chair next to Namjoon’s, the two murmuring between themselves before turning to see me being pulled into the room.

“Hey y/n.” Namjoon smiled and offered up a slight wave upon my arrival, which I of course returned, almost relaxing with the register of my friend’s presence. And then there was Yoongi: it wasn’t that he was mean or anything, just cold. In my roughly year and a half of working at BigHit, I’d exchanged maybe four or five words with the guy, even though I spent the majority of my time in the various studios fine tuning the production equipment and making sure IT was in check. I tried to avoid working on any equipment in his studio at the same time that he was there, but he spent so much time there, it was damn near impossible anyways. The other members had taken pretty well to me as they saw more and more of me, and they’d try to reassure me that it wasn’t anything personal, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe he just didn’t like me for whatever reason.

“Come sit! Give us your thoughts!” Hobi invited, taking his seat next to Joon and pulling up a chair for me. In between him and Yoongi. Great.

I took my seat and Joon pressed play on the track, him and Yoongi simultaneously falling back into their seats and shutting their eyes as they listened while Hoseok propped his head on his hand and stared at the track’s progression intently. I tried to mirror Yoongi and Joon, leaning back in my chair and concentrating fully on the music, allowing my mind to float on the member’s voices mingling while the bass washed over me warmly, leaving goosebumps up and down my arms and legs simultaneously. Even when the track finished, I had to sit and ponder it for a moment, let it stream through my head for a while. I wanted to hear it again as soon as it ended.

“Y/n? What’d you think?” I was snapped out of my euphoria following the track by Namjoon’s voice, opening my eyes to see the three men I’d been sitting with looking at me intently.

“Oh, um, good. It was good, I mean. Very good.” I offered a smile to Joon, allowing my gaze to drift over to Yoongi, but he’d already swiveled around in his chair to fiddle more with the track. “Uhh, I should probably be going now. I’m still on the clock, but thanks for letting me listen.” I said, standing from my chair and leaving amongst murmured farewells from Hoseok and Joon.

~

Come on, y/n, you’re an adult, he’s an adult. He won’t bite. I took in a deep breath, trying to draw up the courage to knock on the door to studio seven, the one that Yoongi frequented the most. He might make you slightly uncomfortable and act like he doesn’t even want you to be there because he definitely doesn’t, but he won’t bite.

I finally summoned up the courage to knock, once, twice, with no response. All of that for nothing. I took a quick peek inside to confirm that no one was home, letting out a breath I hadn’t been aware I was holding before making my way into the studio to work on the mic I had come for. It wasn’t registering properly on the monitors, so of course I had to be the one that fixed it; I swore, at this point, Yoongi was specifically asking for me to be the one to come fix his equipment because he knew he made me uncomfortable.

I made quick work of the offending mic, humming as I went, a smile gracing my features when I saw that the audio from my humming was registering on the monitor I’d turned to face me as I worked.

“Y/n, you have such a nice voice!!” I almost shat myself when Tae came on the mic, turning to see his smiling face through the window, Yoongi suppressing a laugh in the background at my mortified state.

“Jesus, Tae, thank you, but would it kill you to give me a little warning next time!!” I scolded, earning a pout from the boy as I walked out of the booth. “I, uh, fixed the mic for you, and I checked on the others, too. All of them should be fine now.” I said, just about unable to meet Yoongi’s eyes.

“Thanks, y/nie!!” Tae said, wrapping his arms around me from behind while I left my eyes trained on Yoongi.

“Yeah, thanks.” Yoongi muttered, just barely, but he was meeting my eyes and everything, and for some reason my heart skipped a beat when he did. All I could do was nod in response, not missing the small smirk that quirked up the side of his mouth. After an honestly uncomfortable amount of time just looking at Yoongi, Tae let me go and I shuffled out of the studio; I swore I could feel Yoongi’s stare on my back, but I chose not to put too much thought into it as I shut the door and scurried down the hall.

~

“Hey y/n, over here!” Namjoon called to me, the rest of the members choosing to simply scream in order to draw attention to themselves as I approached. 

“Hey guys!” I waved and smiled, Jungkook and Hobi immediately starting to pull me in their respective directions as soon as I got close enough for them to reach. I looked over, seeing Yoongi very blatantly rolling his eyes, a pit settling in my stomach as Jungkook finally won and pulled me to sit between him and Jimin. 

Lunch consisted of banter and excited chatter about the new songs they were working on, the usual, but something about Yoongi seemed...off. Like, more off than usual. Usually he just wouldn’t talk much, but now, he was being actively passive aggressive at best. Rolling his eyes, not even talking to the other members. They seemed to get touchier and louder in my ears, more than likely to make up for how Yoongi was behaving, but all I could hear was what Yoongi wasn’t saying. 

We’ve known each other for years and he’s at least tried to be civil until now, out at lunch, with everyone? My blood suddenly began boiling; I’d dealt with this same childish behavior for the past two years of my life, constantly stressing over every little thing I did around Yoongi, and now he was just giving up on at least trying to pretend like he could stand me. We were at lunch with some of the best friends I’d made in my adult life, and he was sitting there rolling his eyes and acting like I was such a bother for what. 

I’m not entirely sure what made everything come to a head right then, but I was just getting tired and I was trying to have a nice time, and I had to admit, even if he was a little bit of an asshole sometimes, I liked him and I wanted to be his friend; it just would’ve been nice if he could’ve tried to put the same energy towards me that I did him.

I stood up abruptly, causing the table’s eyes to shift to me, but I just grabbed my trash and went to throw it away. I felt bad for not offering to take anyone else’s while I was up or even just offering a laugh at whatever joke Hobi had just told, but I felt the need to just get out in the moment and I was honestly afraid I’d yell ‘why do you hate me so much?!’ right in Yoongi’s face if I didn’t leave right then. 

I wanted so badly to just run back to the studio and fix something. I wanted to repeatedly stab a screwdriver into a computer until it could just grow arms and program itself whenever it needed fixing. But I was stopped at the trash can by none other than the man of the hour, Yoongi. And he had the audacity to just reach around me like I wasn’t even there. 

“Why do you hate me so much?!” I demanded, a shocked look forming instantly on his face at my sudden courage. “Why are you rolling your eyes and acting like you couldn’t care less every time one of us so much as breathes? Must you be that childish? I’m trying to enjoy time with my friends, our friends, and you act like you wish I wasn’t there and it’s so blatantly obvious. What’d I ever do, Yoongi? Tell me!” I was shaking I was so angry, pressure building behind my eyes as tears threatened to spill. All he could do was stare at me with his jaw dropped, eyes widened. I turned to go back to the company’s main campus, leaving my bag for one of the other members to return to me later, but Yoongi grabbed my wrist and pulled me back, my head landing on something that I would register as his chest as he pulled me into a tight hug, one of the most comforting I’d ever been in.

“I don’t hate you, y/n. I’m sorry, I could never.” He said. I could feel now he was shaking too. “I’ve never hated you, I swear.” He pulled away.

“Then why are you such an asshole?” I whined. “Sometimes. Sometimes, I mean.” I added hurriedly, his jaw dropping again as he looked at me. 

“I...” He sighed. “The truth is... I like you. A lot. I’ve always thought you were cute, so I always requested you come to my studio, but I didn’t know how to talk to you. I figured if we spent enough time around each other, or around the other members at least, we’d eventually start talking, but I never got around to it, and I figured you just didn’t want me talking to you.” He said sheepishly, rubbing his neck as he shifted his weight between his feet.

“You... you what?” I asked. He chuckled quietly, eyes meeting mine again. 

“I like you. And I never got around to saying anything about it. I knew I intimidated you so I kinda just left it. Tried to give you your own space, y’know?” He said. “I kinda thought it was cute, actually, how shy you got whenever you noticed I was there, too. But, I never thought I was actually making you angry or anything.” 

“I-” I stood there, mouth agape, opening and closing it like a fish, unable to comprehend all of the information that had just been thrown at me. “I, yeah, I uh- I didn’t know it was making me angry, either.” I laughed bitterly, staring at him in shock. “I guess it was just something about today. You were actually expressing distaste for me-”

“Not for you, the members.” He laughed. I stared at him, silently urging him to continue. “They, uh, they’ve been teasing me because you’re, like, afraid of me and I guess they were trying to make me jealous or whatever. I mean, I guess I am kinda out of the game at this point.” He said, with only the slightest tinge of bitterness to it. That’s why they were being extra touchy today.

“Well, you’re not completely out of the game.” I said just barely above a whisper, almost causing Yoongi to choke on his own spit. “I was just pissed because of your attitude specifically today, but I do want to be your friend at least. Maybe more, not gonna lie.” I bobbed up and down on my feet, taking in Yoongi’s reaction as he processed my words.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “if I’m not out of the game, could I maybe, take you out to dinner sometime? Without the others stealing all of your attention?” He bargained. I smiled.

“Of course.”

[capricornus-rex]

What about...Cal x reader fic, getting stuck on Jakku because the Mantis needs repairs?

Gotcha covered, hun! 😉 took me long enough to finish the bulk of the story because I ended up developing the story into a multi-part series rather than a oneshot. Sorry I’ve kept you waiting though ;-; Hope you like it! ❤

“A Test of Wills”

Cal Kestis x Reader

Part 2 | Masterlist

1 of ?

Something disturbs the peace within the Mantis as it cruised through the black blanket of space.

The alarm blared across the ship, the sound rattled through the ventilation shafts, and the ship itself quaked with great turbulence. Cal darted out of the cockpit and into the engine room, there was a plume of smoke coming out of the gap just beside the bed.

“What’s going on?” Greez asked from the pilot’s seat.

From the cockpit, a screen on the dashboard projected a blueprint drawing of the hyperdrive power cell, a red meter filled a part of the drawing, and your eyes pulled together with great caution. Your eyes flitted from one screen to another as you were confronted with a collage of red screens. Greez slapped your hand when you were reaching for one of the switches.

“The compressor’s heating up!” Cal answered from the engine room.

“That’s because we made a second hyperspace jump with just 48 percent of charge,” you deduced. “No wonder the covered distance was so short!”

“Should we turn off the auxiliary power?” Cere suggested.

“That would make the ship live bait. This calls for an emergency landing, Captain,”

Greez swiveled his chair facing you, he put his lower pair of arms on his waist and sternly looked at you in the eye.

“An emergency landing? Could it be that bad?”

“To be honest, Greez, I wouldn’t wait for it to come to that,”

These are one of the moments where Greez’s logic and unconditional love for the Mantis are at play in a mental battlefield. In his mind, his last-minute solution was to indeed cut off the auxiliary power so the blazing engine would stop—but it’s tricky to fix a ship off-planet, with bounty hunters on your tail and in droves, no less. You were right, it would make the Mantis easy prey.

Greez may be overly proud of his ship, but he knows when he is right and when he’s wrong. He swiveled his chair back to facing the steering wheel, his two pairs of arms throwing themselves around the dashboard computers and clutched onto the steering wheel in the end.

“Alright everyone, brace yourselves!” Greez announced and cranked the wheel as you entered the atmosphere of the nearest planet within the ship’s reach.

Everybody held tight on their seats—Cere on her seat in the cockpit, Merrin in the holotable couch, Cal and BD-1 have retreated out to the galley and braced themselves on the barstool, and finally you and the captain in your respective seats.

The ship blazed through the thin sheet of the planet’s atmosphere, the heat was slowly seeping through the interior as the Mantis descended, and Greez—with all the might of his four arms combined—fought with the steering wheel as he cranked it up.

When the surface seems to appear closer and closer, you felt your stomach go flat; in your periphery, you saw Greez flail his arms over the dashboard again, you know that he was preparing for the landing cycle, and prepare yourself for another “happy landing.”

The Mantis’s feet flung out of their hatches and the sand cushioned the landing. Every single person inside the ship caught their breath after holding it for too long once the ship touched the surface. You melted into your seat, raked the hairs that had fallen out of place, and allow the fact that you’re still alive sink in.

“What’s the…” Cere gasped. “Current diagnostics?”

The lights in your eyes were dancing, you had to lean forward to get a good look at the screens. You blinked countless times before you could read aloud the diagnostics.

“Power cells have drained…” you heaved. “There’s not enough fuel to travel at least nine parsecs.”

Cal peered through the windshield and saw a small settlement that seems to have taken attention to the ship.

“What planet are we in?” Cal asked.

You squinted your eyes looking at the screen where the planet’s name and coordinates are shown.

“Jakku,” you replied in a nearly surprised tone.

Not a single soul in the crew has ever heard of the planet. This was one of those collective first time situations. Everyone took a breather before marching out of the ship and blindly into another unheard of planet.

You left your seat in the cockpit and transferred to the holotable couch. Throwing yourself flat on the sofa, your limbs were numb and felt like jelly. Cal sat next to you, scooched in closer so that your head rests on his lap. His fingers softly scratched your hairline—the sleight of that sensation was enough to send goosebumps all over your skin—they glided across the length of your hair, he saw the soothed expression on your face, and so he did this a number of times.

“Your heartbeat’s really fast,”

“My body should be getting used to the happy landings by now,” you clapped back.

The feeling was enough to lull you to sleep, you’re half-awake as you fiddled the straps and buckles on his armor, Cal leans closer to you and plants a kiss on your forehead and the anxiety that racked up inside you simply melted away.

While you lay there, questions and scenarios start rushing into your mind about this new planet. The questions start from worst to least bad. All the while, ideas branch out of your mind after each scenario you could think of.

“[y/n],”

“Hmm…?”

“Slow down with the thoughts,” he whispered.

The calm façade didn’t work through Cal, he can still feel the anxiety trembling within your nerves, he can feel the ideas dart through your brain, and the images were vivid enough for him to see what imaginary plan you ought to be conceiving in your mind.

“Sorry. I guess I’m taking precautions,”

“Hey, we’ll be okay,”

You looked at him in the eye when he let go of those words. Cal was someone you could trust—if any, he is a man of his word. His words have put you at ease, but not for long. A few hours after landing, everybody had regained their composure and then all gathered round in the galley to brainstorm.

All heads turned to the door as Greez enters the ship after taking a look at the damage.

“Well, she’s still beautiful on the outside, but on the inside?” Greez clenches his teeth and makes a subtle negative gesture with his lower pair of arms.

“I checked the engine room out in the back, overheated power cells” you added. “The hyperspace compressor is cooked, too. We need a replacement—and a good one.”

“Look there, in the distance. That looks like a settlement,” Merrin gestures with her head turning to the general direction of the said outpost. “Do you suppose they have the things we need?”

“If it’s an outpost, it’s bound to have anything. I don’t see any other buying options around here,” you answered.

“And what about the fuel? One of you mentioned something about fuel,”

Cal took a big sigh before answering to Cere, “We don’t have enough fuel to make a single hyperjump. It can bring us some distance, but I wager not less than nine parsecs.”

There was a silence amongst the crew, BD-1’s sad trilling concluded the exchange between the four of you. It’s about time the captain had his say about anything—considering that this is technically his ship.

“So we need some fuel, a few emergency power cells, and a replacement compressor?”

“Seems about right. And our only hope is that outpost right out there,”

Just when Cere sensed that you and Cal have a plan in mind—which is obviously blindly setting foot into that outpost—she stopped you dead on your tracks, asked you to wait for her as she digs out a small satchel that contained a pouch of credits.

“Now, I don’t know how life works out there but even in a desolate place such as this, sometimes money talks.”

She takes your hand, places the pouch on your palm, and clasps your fingers around it. She gave another one to Cal. She confessed that it was the credits that she had saved when she was trying to survive, after breaking out of the fortress many years ago.

“Cere, are you sure to give this to us?”

“I made my choice,” she firmly said.

There was no room for argument there. You exchanged nods and you retreated to your shared quarters with Cal.

“Which one would you wanna wear this time?” he asked while digging through his stash of collected ponchos.

“Something that matches my eyes,” you reply, a playful tone hanging in your words.

“Right, the pink one it is then,”

You nudged him with your knee while being cramped in that little space you two were sitting in.

“What? The pink definitely brings out your eyes!”

Cal’s comment was received with a dead, passive stare from you. The only active reaction he got from you is a single raised eyebrow. He chuckled and temporarily ceased the horsing around for now. He repeated his question for seriousness’s sake this time.

“The Fjord one,”

He hands you the dark blue poncho and he suits up with the Free Kashyyyk poncho. As you dress yourself up and realign the collar of your poncho, you chuckle to yourself when you suddenly had a though. Even in the midst of a predicament such as this, you’re impressed with the fact that either of you still have the gall to crack some jokes and horse around.

Perhaps it might be the only thing that kept both of you going. It was a constant reminder that even in the bad times, you still have to look at the bright side—no matter how small the good thing may be. Cal taught you that—he just didn’t know it.

[thegeminisage]

the south is like another country

i have an entire essay on how the current radicalism and steep political divide in this country can be traced directly back to the civil war - rural white southerners here playing the part pre-ww2 germany, the part of a resentful, conquered nation assimilated into the nation that conquered them, because if you think about it the south/the confederacy WAS its own nation for a time, that lost a very bloody war, and paid very steeply for it (not that slavers didn’t deserve every bit of misery the “carpetbaggers” threw at them), and the bitterness from that loss/the lost capital from having their slaves freed has been handed down through the generations, to people who now live in abject poverty while their livelihoods are destroyed by late stage capitalism, and their schools are so broke a lot of people here don’t even know how to read, and their towns are eaten alive with meth, and they’re still looked down upon by most of the country for being racist uneducated backwater hicks (to be clear, we should always look down on racism and racists, but it’s not making them any less bitter/ripe for being drawn into the cult of tr*mp’s america and f*cism).

but anyway this post isn’t about that! this post is about how when i go up north and i say “y’all it really is like i’m living in a different country” NOBODY BELIEVES ME. we speak the same language, we’re all americans, right? PFFFFFT. this amazon van thing just drives it home (pun intended). here’s a list of differences from the deep south* to the rest of the country*:

*the deep south here meaning the RURAL deep south. sorry to everyone who lives in cities/the suburbs and/or in border states like maryland and virginia. i’ve been to maryland and virginia and they are technically southern and some of this applies to them but it is not quite as extreme as it is here. the rest of the country includes the other states i’ve been to (california, washington state, new york, etc), which are in mostly every area except the midwest. i cannot personally vouch for the midwest. sorry, midwesterners! rural midwest probably has a lot of things in common with the deep south because rural life is different and also how easily people move around this country, but whatever

this is a long-ass post get ready

difference #1: DRIVING. driving & pedestrians are entirely different un rural areas vs urban areas. for starters, southern towns often do not even have sidewalks. this is because of 1. budget and 2. racism.

budget: rural towns are very spread out, and it costs major $$$ to put sidewalks in. it’s just not worth the trouble, financially, to put a sidewalk where only 12 people are ever going to use it, AND spend the money to maintain it. never gonna happen. racism: initially, suburbs especially in the south were seen as safe havens where people could get away from the stress of living in “urban” (re: integrated) areas. that the neighborhoods were only accessible by car and NOT by people who were too poor (black) to afford automobiles were just an added bonus. 

as such, the first time i left the southeast, i was SHOCKED to see people walking and biking WITH (or indifferent to) the flow of traffic. down here we are taught that if you are walking along the road (or biking, because bikers get lumped in with pedestrians down here), it is very very very crucial that you walk against the flow of traffic, because you cannot expect drivers to see you and not mow you down. the onus is on YOU to get out of THEIR way. additionally, walking in knee-high grass along the side of the road sucks, and because there aren’t many people here, the roads are usually totally empty. so oftentimes pedestrians just straight up walk ON the road. and if you do that you absolutely have to be able to see a car coming from a long way away, because rural drivers on completely empty roads tend to take them at extremely high speeds just for fun. the people who live diagonally across from me have had to replace their mailbox four times because folks take that blind curve at 90mph. i had a cat get hit by a car on that road. (they all live indoors now.) i even witnessed a car accident happen there when i was just outside minding my own business. ever see a tire fly 12 feet into the air and come down into someone’s windshield? that’s what happens when you hit power line pole driving like that.

the first time i ever encountered one of those pedestrian crossing buttons was in california in the early 2010s. i had literally never seen one before because we simply don’t have them here. they’re not very self-explanatory if you have been jaywalking your whole entire life because all you’re taught to do is look both ways and make sure the street is empty before you cross. northern/urban roadways are made so that pedestrians and drivers can both get to where they’re going. in rural/southern areas pedestrians might as well not bother.

interestingly, while not an entirely southern problem, there’s a loose correlation between rural areas and more problems with drunk drivers.

on the driving side, driving in a city is batshit insane. it’s both faster and slower. there is NO space and you’re expected to go whenever you have so much as an inch to worm your way in. there’s more traffic, and the traffic totally dictates your speed. in the south you can change lanes if you want to drive faster or slower and weave around traffic or let it weave around you, but in a city there’s no other lane to change to and if you don’t drive at the speed of the people ahead of and behind you you will die. you turn fast, you brake fast, etc. whenever i come back from driving in a city the people who ride with me think i’m insane. you don’t PULL ONTO A ROAD if you can SEE ANOTHER CAR THERE, what the fuck? meanwhile i’m like “lol that is six miles of space i have plenty of time” and give everyone in my vicinity heart palpitations until i readjust. 

tailgating in a rural area is something only assholes do (done by people on a two-lane road to encourage the person in front of them to go faster because the only other lane is for oncoming traffic), and if someone gets within one car length of me on a two-lane road i can very passively aggressively slow my vehicle to a crawl until they back the fuck off. in a city you’re lucky if you have a twelve inches between your bumper and the next car’s hood ornament.

difference #2: LANGUAGE. this is a small one, but the southern dialect combined with the lack of literacy means i am learning certain things late in life. phrases i have heard verbally with my ears but had never seen written out include: “chest of drawers” which i thought was “chester drawers” - “seven year itch” which i thought was “seven year each” - “albeit” which i thought was “i’ll be it.” i’ve made a deliberate effort to unlearn mine own accent/dialect but i run into weird shit all the time. remotes are mashers, shopping carts are buggies, you put stuff up instead of putting it away, i fix you a drink instead of pouring you one, we shoot the game instead of play it. my mom LITERALLY can’t understand me if i speak too quickly - she has to remind me all the time to slow down and put on my southern.

difference #3: TECHNOLOGY. issue of whether or not you personally have the creepy amazon vans aside, the rural south is behind the rest of the country on technology. things in cities are AUTOMATED. things like the little button you press to cross the street, tickets you take at parking garages, even the parking meters you find in cities, that’s just the beginning of it. one time i came across a little computer touch screen in a MCDONALDS where you put your order in. you didn’t even go up to the counter. you just put your order on the screen and swiped your card and then they got it ready for you and you never had to speak to a human person. self-checkouts, gas pumps where you can swipe your card and not go in and pay at first...the south got those YEARS behind everybody else. in the mid-2010s i went to DC and visited a target for maybe the 5th time ever and i was BAFFLED by the self-checkout. i had no idea how to use it! it was like less than ten years ago and i was IN MY TWENTIES and i had never seen one before! when we send a package we have to talk to a human person. when we order food we usually have to talk to a human person. apps for places like dominos and subway have not been in use here for very long. my county just got doordash LAST YEAR. 

because i am 31, and because the south is so technologically behind, i am actually old enough to remember how when you used to go to a gas station an attendant would not only pump your gas but wash your windshield for you while you just SAT IN THE CAR. that seems like something from the 50s but it actually was a thing here in my childhood IN the 90s. i wish i was making this up.

difference #4: INFRASTRUCTURE. this sort of goes hand-in-hand w/ the last point because so much of our infrastructure is made of technology, and it’s also more of a rural/urban thing than a south/north thing. but just for fun here’s a non-exhaustive list of things i don’t have in my town:

starbucks* - the first time i went to a starbucks i was in my 20s

a public pool - we used to, but now the only pool here requires a YMCA membership. the only baseball diamond in this county is also at the Y.

walmart

in fact, ANYWHERE to buy clothes that is not a goodwill or other secondhand store. i cannot buy clothing unless i order it online or LEAVE MY TOWN. almost all of the clothing i own is from walmart because it’s one of the only places in my entire county where you can actually PURCHASE clothing.

grocery store chains? pffft. my town has two entire stores and both are small southern chains. i didn’t go into a publix for the first time until two years ago when i went to florida. i’ve NEVER entered a whole foods.

food delivery? yeah, no. like i said, we got doordash last year, but before that the only place you could get delivery from was a pizza chain. we only have two pizza places in my town that deliver, and one is a local place, not attached to any chain, so i can’t spend my loyalty points there. (it’s very expensive there too.) last year it was CLOSED for six months because the manager got caught dealing meth. every last one of the delivery drivers was trafficking it for him. they all got fired and had to restart from the ground up. for that short time, it was not possible to get any food delivered to your house whatsoever.

a hospital/ambulance services - if someone is sick, we have to take them to the hospital in laurens, the town next door (about 15-20 minutes by car). the town i live in lucky - we have our own police and fire departments. (acab but you know what i mean.) joanna is a smaller town next to mine that isn’t a real town - it’s been demoted to a census designated area because only 2000 people live there. if they have an emergency, they have to use OUR fire and police departments, and LAURENS’s ambulance/hospital system

after-school places kids can go to keep from getting into trouble. we have the Y, if you have money (no one here has money), and we have churches, but mostly schools can’t afford to run too many extracurriculars. there’s nothing to do here but church and meth.

food banks: zero. we have food DRIVES sometimes where people will come from further away and bring free food, but if you’re hungry, there’s nowhere you can go for help - you have to wait for help to come to you.

libraries: we don’t have our own library. we have a branch of the county library that’s physically located in our town. but we share books with the rest of the entire county, so everything is always checked out or at the other branch. 

*we technically have a starbucks that’s in the local college campus, but only college students are allowed to be there. they’ll still serve people without a college ID because no one gives a fuck, but you can’t linger and loiter and hang out like you do in a normal starbucks. we also have one in the barnes and noble in greenville, which is about an hour away by car, but again, it’s a mini starbucks that serves a limited menu and none of that weird Starbucks Culture™

here’s a few things i don’t have in my ENTIRE COUNTY:

movie theaters - technically. we have a Historial™ one-screen theater in laurens that shows one movie for two weeks a month after it hits regular theaters and then switches to another, and if you miss it, too bad. this is a VERY recent addition - it wasn’t restores until i was in my 20s as a kid and a teenager i had to ride in a car an hour or more to go to the movies.

target. only commies and yankees have target. down here we do walmart.

malls

arcades

skate parks/skating rinks

bowling

museums

zoos/aquariums

campgrounds

fairs. our county fairground got razed a decade ago because there just werent enough people showing up to justify the expense. so no more fairs. you have to have people to fund things and down here there just aren’t enough people anywhere.

you get the idea. we don’t have entertainment. like i said, nothing to do but church and meth.

CLASSES FOR STUFF: knitting classes, dancing classes, driving classes? nope. gymnastics, karate dojos, golf, knitting groups, books clubs, cooking classes? [GAMESHOW BUZZER]. you can’t even hire a clown for a birthday party out here. we do have a shooting range. ONE. in the entire county. and a race track. and a rather infamous former kkk memorabilia store. they made a movie about that (serious tw for this trailer - they’ve got white hoods, burning crosses, pepper spray, the whole nine), which, yes, takes place in laurens, aka right next door to me. i used to walk by that place all the time when i was playing pokemon go. haven’t seen the movie but the shooting locations in the trailer make laurens look a lot bigger and prettier than it really is in real life - especially the racetrack, which, in the trailer, is actually PAVED. (this is inaccurate to real life.)

EDUCATION: lots of people can’t read. we have two schools for illiterate adults, one religious college, and one branch of one of the state colleges that has a skeleton staff and a fuck ton of computers (you basically just go there to distance learn/e-learn - if you want to take real classes from this college, you have to drive at least an hour.)

support groups/group therapy: almost none. we have al-anon and weight watchers, but that’s about it. there’s only half a dozen therapists in my entire county, and none that operate from my town. mental healthcare down here is bullshit.

on food: we don’t have many sit-down restaurants, where servers bring you your menu and your food. if you don’t count waffle houses, my town has 4. my county has 9. in and out, 5 guys, applebees, ruby tuesday, red lobster, olive garden, panda epxress? forget it. those places were and still are rare treats. i’ve only been to an olive garden twice. red lobster once. whenever i leave my county i BEG for chinese because there’s only two chinese restaurants in our entire county and one of them is crazy expensive and the other one sucks. 

we also don’t have the more important stores you need to like, live. if we need to exchange our router at a charter store? yeah, we don’t have one. need to visit the sprint store to get your phone repaired? nuh-uh, we don’t have any phone stores either. my family recently switched to at&t because it was the only company that had a physical location in our county. before that, we had to drive an hour for even the smallest repair.

on a grimer note: we don’t have homeless shelters! homeless in laurens county? too bad for you. we do have homeless PEOPLE. they just have nowhere to go except the churches

hospitals? only kind of. like i said, our county has one, but it’s not equipped to take seriously sick people. when my mom had a heart attack she had to be driven straight to greenwood, which is 45 minutes away if you’re not in an ambulance. they obviously made it faster than that, but still. that was scary. it took them a long time to get here. i had a distant relative of mine die before the ambulance made it because they were SO far out in the sticks, even further than me.

we also don’t have any specialty stores. sporting goods, gamestops, shoe stores, florists, craft stores, bookstores, best buys...forget it. if you can’t buy it at walmart, you just can’t buy it. the exceptions: my TOWN has one jewelry store, two hardware stores, and two auto repair stores. my COUNTY has three clothing stores, none of which are in my town, one place that sells used TVs, and one movie rental place. thrilling, right? i can rent a movie if i drive out of town. (i know streaming killed the rental business, but we also only had two places when i was a kid, if you counted the rental section in the grocery store.)

so, yeah. i know the term “shithole” is really loaded these days, but rural areas are just plain less developed, and often in seriously poor repair because nobody fucking uses them. there USED to be more stuff here - my mom was on a bowling league, and as a kid i had a birthday party at a skating rink - but late stage capitalism and drugs destroyed it all. people ran out of money to do things like skate and bowl and so those places closed. the south is full of empty store fronts and deserted strip malls slowly being eaten by kudzu. my brother got out of this town and whenever he winds up back here (not often) he remarks on how completely and utterly dead everything feels. “my friends who live in greenwood now think they’re all rural,” he said once. “they complain constantly about how remote it is. but they have no idea. they wouldn’t make it five minutes out here.” greenwood has its own movie theater, mall, starbucks, homeless shelter, food bank, and hospital.

so, yeah! if you were wondering what rural white southerners are so fucking mad about, that’s part of it. propaganda and xenophobia and racism has their anger directed ENTIRELY at the wrong people, but it’s hard to argue that the anger itself isn’t just a little bit justified.

difference #5: CULTURE. specifically culture around food, and the culture around the civil war. i could write an entire other essay about the culture of the church being everything because the church IS the only semblance of infrastructure we have and this is why the south is so homophobic, but we’ll skip that for now.

food: this is a quickie, because i sort of touched on it already, but there are like, almost NO vegetarian options here. there’s very limited choices of cuisine. it’s ALL waffle house and soul food. we have a lot of mexican places because we’re physically close to the mexican border, but aside from that, forget finding like indian or thai or japanese or anything like that. no sushi. forget finding a menu that has meals that are halal or kosher. there’s just. no culture here. no variety. you know? like i said, our entire county doesn’t even hit double-digits for proper sit-down restaurants.

civil war: i’m not going to go into the big stuff since i sort of covered it at the top and also this post is getting way too long, but to other white rural southerners there is legitimate baggage around the fact that my mom married a yankee and that i am half-yankee. and he’s not even a real yankee! he was born up north but raised in southern florida. (florida is weird. the further south you go geographically, the less southern you are culturally.) yet: my family makes jokes that are sometimes not jokes about this. when i drop this information in casual conversation people get that look on their faces like: ah, that explains it. it being that i am not religious and don’t laugh at racist jokes and maybe i am queer?? (strangers tend to be unsure about this last part, even when i’m wearing rainbows.) it’s because i’m half-yank! that explains everything! the xenophobia is SO strong here that white people are even xenophobic at OTHER WHITE PEOPLE. 

so in conclusion when i say the north is like another country, it’s because the people who raised me think of it like another country. and culturally! it is buck wild! the differences that there are! when i leave this town i feel like i step into fucking star trek! if you are not from the rural south, and you have never been to the rural south, please do not come here! i’ve been to a few different places now and this is definitely my least favorite one. 

[leah-halliwell92]

Here Come’s The Sun

Summary: May has had it with Jack’s passive aggressive attitude, his pining after Lucy and most especially her own pining for him. So she takes one out of her sister’s book and decides to stay in on the day of love itself. There’s nothing better than work to give one some time alone with their thoughts...and away from the borderline disgusting lovers on the outside world.

(For those who know...This will be in the same universe as an in progress work for this same fandom. And if anyone else has questions drop em in my box!)

May adjusted her glasses as she stopped in front of the table that is a little ways away from Dracula’s cage. She resisted the urge to scoff and roll her eyes at the files that cluttered up its surface. 

“Can’t even be bothered to put the papers in their respective files,” she said to herself as she separated the papers into their correct file folder and putting the files into a neat pile on a corner of the table before setting her own folders on the table.

“Thought you’d be out like the rest of your colleagues,” the man in the cage said nonchalantly.

May rolled her eyes at that but said nothing and went about finishing her file on Castle Dracula. 

“Isn’t that what today is all about? Pairing up with your other and giving each other tokens of affection and what not?” He continued on unbothered.

May rolled her eyes and looked up to find the man in question staring at her through the glass of his cage. 

Dracula to his credit, looked as curious as he sounded.

May gave herself a mental shake and went back to her writing.

“What on earth could be so interesting in that file that is keeping you practically mute?” He asked now annoyed at being so blatantly ignored.

May sighed and looked up before saying, “I’m writing about my latest expedition. If you must know I’m writing about the ruins of a castle I was studying.”

“Were?” He asked his brows furrowing in curiosity.

“Yes,” she said with a sigh, “I was about to uncover something important when my dear sister gave me a call to come home.”

“Ah so it is my home you were digging through,” he said with a cocky smirk, “So I do interest you then?”

May scoffed, “Don’t push your luck, I’m not my sister.”

“No?” He said in disbelief, “So you don’t want to study me? And have been wanting to crack me open like an egg and poke and prod at what’s inside for the last two weeks?”

May laughed out right at that.

“I don’t see where that could ever be funny,” Dracula said a growl coming from his chest.

May’s body still shook from laughing but she had to admit, he is rather handsome and the way he seemed to ooze raw power impressed her...slightly.

“It is when you say such a thing to a woman with a doctorate in European history,” she said with a small grin.

“Oh,” he said now looking, slightly, abashed.

She shook her head at him and finished the paragraph she was working on so she could give him her undivided attention.

She gave him a look over comparing what he looks like to the portrait she’d seen in one of the rooms. 

“What,” he said smirking again, “Like what you see?”

“That is irrelevant,” she said voice even as she continued studying him from her seat.

“Well aren’t you ever filled with surprises,” he said cockily.

She smirked and was about to say something else when...

“Don’t entertain him...it won’t do you any good,” her sister, Zoe, said as she walked in lab coat billowing with every step she took. 

May rolled her eyes in the dark making the vampire in his cage smirk. 

“Goodbye Zoe,” she said loudly.

“You shouldn’t even be here,” she said clearly not liking the clear dismissal.

“And where should I be Zoe?” May asked angrily, “In the bowels of the foundation locked away with my files and archives? If the point was to keep me buried I’d have stayed in Transylvania.”

Zoe couldn’t say anything to that, not because she didn’t have anything to say but because her younger sister had a point. She knew of the expedition and knew where. May would have been safe no matter what...

“Take Jack with you by the way,” May said not looking at her sister finally turning to look at her sister.

Zoe for her part was confused as to why, after all May had a bit of a crush and thought her sister and colleague were going to give a relationship a try. 

May gave Zoe a heated glare. 

The sisters shared a silent conversation before Zoe nodded sadly and left the room.

May cleared her throat and stood.

“Will you ever tell me why you were so studiously examining my person?” Dracula asked curiously.

May gave him a weak grin but excused herself to put away Jack and her sister’s mess of files leaving her behind.

She kept her steps light not wanting to draw attention to herself as she made her way down to the records’ hall.

‘I really need to find a second office,’ she thought as she put the files back in their respective spots.

Everything was going better than she expected time wise, she even had time to change into her leggings and a cozy top, when she heard two distinct voices walking through her sanctum. 

“Of course she’s here,” Jack said as he walked in turning on all the lights as he walked through the room like he owned the place, “She never leaves this place.”

May covered her mouth to keep her breathing in check. She knew Jack wasn’t too keen on her, she also knew what he thought about her. He made it no secret and told anyone who’d listen all about her hermit-like ways. She never thought that he’d completely disregard the fact that she has an education and a title in her own right. 

“She’s qualified historian Jack,” she heard one of her colleagues say in defense of her.

May took off her shoes and worked her way around the large archive’s room. Knowing the room like the back of your hand helps when one wants to make a swift escape.

“She’s a qualified secretary,” he said derogatorily. 

May paused a tear escaping her. She knew that that is what he and her sister saw her as. 

She made a quick exit narrowly escaping the pair and making her way back to where the cage is.

May ignored Dracula’s questioning gaze and dismissed the guards swiftly reminding them that she is as much in charge of the place as Saint Zoe. The guards left at her order but felt no comfort in leaving her there with a clearly dangerous...beast. She proceeded to put her files in her bag and pull out her laptop.

“Are you alright?” Dracula asked after having had enough of seeing the woman command the attention of all in the room.

‘She really is something,’ he thought holding back a smirk remembering how Agatha had done the same on the Demeter when his true nature was revealed.

May gave Dracula a guarded look before pulling out her sketch pad and a pencil before clicking the space bar on her computer allowing music to play from it softly. All the while not answering his question.

Dracula was about to inquire again when a Doctor Jack Seward walked into the room.

“There you are May, I need you to pull a file out for me,” he said flashing her a flirtatious grin.

She looked at him then at Dracula before looking back at Jack.

“Sorry we’re closed,” she said and went back to her drawing.

Jack looked dumfounded at the response. May had always done something for him when he asked without question.

“Its very important May please?” He said laying the good puppy look on thick.

“Oh pleeeeease do you really think that act will work?” Dracula taunted, “Do you really think she’ll fall for it? 

Jack bristled at that but spared Dracula no response to that.

“When the dead guy is right,” May said never straying from what she was doing.

Jack’s temper was showing, the morning’s CCTV was going to be more than amusing to see for all involved.

“Go find Lucy Jack, I’m sure she’s dying to see you,” May said glaring at him, “After all I’m just a lowly secretary.”

Dracula gapped at the girl...no. Woman.

Jack’s eyes widened at her words, “May–”

“It’s Doctor Helsing,” she said voice hard, “And I will become your worst nightmare if you don’t get your ass out of here.”

Dracula openly stared at May then mouth wide open as her words mirrored those of a similarly strong willed woman.

Jack swallowed thickly at this, “How can you–”

“I am an educated woman with fighting experience,” May said, “You may be taller than me but you know what they say...they higher they are the harder the fall.”

Jack swallowed at that having seen you training one day and took your threat to  heart. He wouldn’t show this to her though, he needed that file and he’d do almost anything to get it. Even play your feelings for him to get it.

“May, please,” she said dropping his voice down some.

Dracula rolled his eyes and raised his hand to get May’s attention.

She looked his way fire in her eyes, “What.”

“Just letting you know you might have to do that if what he did is any tell,” he said almost pitiously nodding in Jack’s direction, “Well that and his heart rate’s accelerated meaning what you’ve said has had a rather profound effect on him.”

May looked at Jack in interest.

“Come on May you can’t mean to trust him can you? He’s a monster!” Jack screamed.

“Actually he’s been nothing but courteous to me since I walked through the door. The one whose been an ass is you thinking I’d whore myself to you because I have a school yard crush on you that will pass the longer your higher than thou attitude is ruling what little common sense you have,” May said a dangerous smirk on her face.

“Jack! There you are,” Zoe said as she walked in.

Dracula backed off the window pane and moved to lay down on the chaise of the cage.

“Did I miss something?” She asked seeing Jack’s pale face before yelling, “What did you do Dracula!?”

“He didn’t do anything Zoe, believe it or not,” May said evenly standing from her seat.

Zoe wasn’t in the mood to argue and was sure she’d see the feed in the morning, the pair looked unharmed and Dracula looked to be more than used to being in his cage.

“I know you don’t believe me Zoe,” May said softly, “Just leave.”

Zoe went to her sister but was more than hurt when May took a step a way from her.

“Leave,” May repeated defeatedly, “Take your...man with you.”

Zoe wanted to say more but decided to wait till later and did as May said. 

“Let’s go Jack,” Zoe said firmly.

“But...the file,” she said in protest.

“Can wait till tomorrow,” she said firmly.

Zoe didn’t wait for Jack to respond or do anything, she dragged him from the room promising to call May later so they could talk.

May sighed and slumped back into her chair.

“Are you alright?” Dracula asked.

May sighed and looked to the man who stood back at the window.

She shook her head and went back to her drawing. 

A couple of songs later a soft guitar was heard coming from her laptop.

“Can you raise the...um...what is it...” he started asking a little lost for words still unfamiliar with the technology still. 

“You mean make it louder?” May asked lightly. 

He nodded.

Here comes the sun, doo-dun doo-doo Here comes the sun, and I say It's all right

Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here

”Dr. Helsing,” Dracula asked staring at her in what looked like wonder but May couldn’t be sure.  Here comes the sun, doo-dun doo-doo Here comes the sun, and I say It's all right

May looked at Dracula questioningly an inquisitive brow in the air. Little darling, the smile's returning to their faces Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here Here comes the sun Here comes the sun, and I say It's all right

“Would you honor me with a dance?” He said with a shrug.

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes Sun, sun, sun, here it comes Sun, sun, sun, here it comes Sun, sun, sun, here it comes Sun, sun, sun, here it comes

“Oh what the hell,” she said and stood, “If I’m going to die might as well die dancing.”

Dracula looked surprised at her comment but held his tongue. 

May was somewhat careful and put on her grandmother’s cross and under her shirt. Before making her way to the door and using her key to open the door.

“Hold it mister,” she said as Dracula was about to step out of the room, “I go in, you don’t.”

Dracula agreed to this and offered her his hand.

Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting Little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear

May took his hand and together they danced until dawn...and the news that his lawyer had arrived.

Here comes the sun, doo-dun doo-doo Here comes the sun, and I say It's all right Here comes the sun, doo-dun doo-doo Here comes the sun It's all right It's all right

Dracula Tag-List: @kaddis-world, @count-snackula, @your-pixels-are-showing, @peachlogiic, @the-life-and-times-of-a-nerd, @lokiisbrucebanner, @deny-black, @drsherlockmoffat, @festering-queen, @ashashashashashie, @hoefordarkness​,  @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels, @glamrockmonarch

[ngame989]

“Brew” - TGG SVTFOE Fanfic Collection Ch. 6

Writing: @ngame989​

Art: @toxicpsychox​

Editing: @toxicpsychox​, @seddm​, an IRL friend

Alternate fic links - FFnet, AO3

Summary: After close to a year on Earthni, Tom's been dragged back into the princely life, and it's a lot less exciting than he'd expected. With Star and Marco away on urgent business, can Janna help him turn a boring errand into a fun adventure?

Comic Page

Masterpost

This one’s a nice change of pace from the last two chapters, I think. TGG’s still a Starco-focused work, expect these to be the exception not the norm, but I think it’s important to strike a balance. See below for the text, hope you enjoy!

“No results.” Huh? Three eyes narrowed at the screen in frustration. Maybe a different search term? “No results.” Alright Tom, no big deal, man. Maybe you just spelled something wrong. Annnnnd… there. “No results.” How could there be nothing?

Tom leaned back in the chair and sighed, exercising restraint over the little anger demons inside him as he’d trained himself to do. In the past he’d needed a physical bunny to pet if he wanted even a hope of keeping his cool, but at this point suppressing the urge was such reflex that most would think he just had a regular Mewman quick temper and nothing more in all but the most extreme of conditions, but he was getting pretty close to that point now. Grandpa Relicor’s study had everything, or so he thought, but this was the first time he could ever remember being here where it come up short. He’d checked every shelf, everything he could think in the computer, had even fireblasted a few of the shelves just to see if there were any hidden switches or anything. Even Relicor had been at a loss and had been screeching in distress on the floor for long enough that Tom’s brain had graciously tuned it out. What could be so important about this book his mom needed? He hadn’t even had time to change his casual graphic tee from a cartoon he liked, simply tossing his maroon jacket over it before heading out at his mother’s behest. He wasn’t one to say no to her, but it had been hours since he’d shown up here and he was no closer to figuring this out than he had been this morning.

Suddenly his phone buzzed, displaying the familiar beaming face of his ex-girlfriend close up to the camera. A toothy grin erupted as he picked it up, holding the phone up for a video feed. “Heya, Starship.”

“Hey, Tom!” Star beamed into the camera. “How’s it hanging? Long time no see. So,” she rambled out in one breath, “I may have a teensie weensie wittle problem.” She backed up to reveal her hair in complete disarray, sans horns, and black marks all over her light blue dress. Before Tom could even ask the question, her other hand held up charred fragments of her headband. “Someone still hasn’t learned how to use an Earth oven properly!” she forced out through gritted teeth.

“Look, gurl, I said I was like, so sorry! All the Cloud Kingdom kitchens are powered by glitter and horn blasts, like that’s just how ovens are supposed to be, that is all I am saying here,” Ponyhead’s indignant voice chimed in from behind, punctuated by a snort.

“Anyway, we just finished putting out the fires and I need a new headband and their website says they’re almost out of stock and I’ve wanted to show Marco around the Underworld for a while and- wait, is that screeching in the background? Where are you?”

Tom shuffled away from the elder demon still writhing on the floor and cleared his throat. “Just in Grandpa’s study trying to find something for my mom, she really wants it today. I don’t know if I can go- but I can still send the carriage for you guys, if you want.”

“Do you need help with that?” Marco inquired as he peeked his head into the frame, casually wrapping an arm around Star.

“Naaaah, no big deal,” Tom shrugged. “You two should go, though! I can just fly over whenever I finish this.”

Star and Marco looked at each other hesitantly. “Alright,” she said. “Carriage to our house in maybe five minutes?” A fire alarm went off behind her followed by a scream from Ponyhead and an even girlier one from Marco. “Maybe ten,” Star sighed, burying her face in her free hand.

“You got it,” Tom chuckled.

“OK, bye!” Star said with relief before hanging up. He rolled his shoulders from inside his jacket and ran his hands through his hair before stepping into the main foyer, taking advantage of the space to summon the carriage and its horses, the incantations coming effortlessly to him. Demons had been fortunate enough to retain their powers on Earthni, but the location underground and the relative lack of portaling methods available left them even more isolated than previously. While most of the other kingdoms had dissolved or integrated into a loose coalition of government covering all of the Echo Creek area, the Underworld had been content to stay completely under the banner of Lord and Lady Lucitor, and Tom found himself pitching in more and more in his role as Prince. In truth, he would have appreciated the company his friends were offering, but he knew how much it had meant to Star to be able to give this life up, and he didn’t want to drag her - either of them, really, considering Marco had earned an official title on Mewni himself - back into the boring thick of regal errands. Was Prince Thomas Draconius Lucitor really going to let some stuffy old book collection get the best of him? Hah, as if.

With a flick of his wrist, the half-demon shuttled the carriage to the surface in a pillar of flame, barely looking and instead pulling out his new phone. He was still getting the hang of the new and improved Reflectacorp’s Earth tech integration, but he’d at least learned how to open yesterday’s text conversation thread from its new message notification.

Janna: anti-gravity potion attempt 4 failed. affected bottle glass itself and launched into sky. note to self: work under roof. star and marco’s suggestions didnt work either. not all bad though, it went towards cloud kingdom lol

Tom: careful, don’t hit pony’s ego and make it fly even higher ·;) btw pony + starco are going shopping in underworld soon. im stuck working for mom though.

Janna: stores r lame. even in underworld. and srsly dude u gotta stop using starfans dumb name for them. otoh it bugs them so actually nvm go 4 it

Tom: it was mine first >·:( it saves letters when they’re together!

Janna: which is always

Tom: exactly. speaking of which, they’re here ttyl

Star stepped out of the carriage in a nice white polka dotted green dress, quickly followed by Marco, the pair’s fingers remaining intertwined until they gave him a hello hug, and Tom honestly wasn’t sure they’d stopped holding hands even then. Ponyhead burst out a moment later with her phone floating in front of her pointed at herself, and she was in the middle of a monologue to no one in particular.

“-so yeah anyway as you all can see we have now arrived in the Underwoooorld. So yeah this is, like, basically the best place on all of Earthni to go shopping as I’ll be showing you today. Oh yeah, I guess some demon boys live here too. Oh my goodness, say hello you guuuys,” she rolled her eyes as she butted in between Star and Tom, side-eyeing him for a split second before grinning back into the camera. After all this time Pony still hadn’t dropped the passive aggression over his and Star’s messy history; Tom had to admit it was a bit understandable, but did she really have to keep it up in such an annoying way? He rolled his eyes - it was Ponyhead he was thinking about here. “OK, the Ponyhead Experience will be taking a short break. Tune back in soon! Love y’all, buhbye!” She snapped the phone shut and caught it with her tongue. “Ugh, why do all of my vlogs with you dorks get like ten times as many viewers? Tom, you were in the shot for like three seconds and do you know what happened? 2000 more people tuned in! What the heck! It’s like, just because I have one less horn and one less eye I’m not exciting to you? But I can’t stay mad at my adooooring fans.”

“Must be the Lucitor charm.” He flashed a toothy smile and a pair of finger guns at her, accidentally flinging his phone across the room in the process. “Totally planned,” he blurted out with a much less authentic grin. Marco chuckled and picked it up, handing it back and patting him mock-sympathetically on the shoulder while holding back a smirk.

Star giggled but tapped her foot impatiently, looking around the room nervously. “OK, great catching up, but on the way here I checked the website and the headband shop is almost out of stock! We have to go, now! Let’s move it, people! Tom, can we borrow the carriage for the day?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Fine by me.”

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou, you’re the best!”

“You sure you don’t need anything?” Marco inquired again.

“You heard the girl, Marco, my audience wants to see us get our shop on!”

Tom blew a raspberry, pushing them towards the carriage. “Relax, it’s nothing. I’m practically done already! Tooootally almost done!”

Marco finally relented, nodding his assent. Star was bouncing up and down so much that she looked ready to launch around the room. He giggled as she wrapped both her arms around his middle and kissed his cheek before hauling him the rest of the way into the carriage. “C’mon boo, mama needs a new pair of horns. Plus we can get whatever you need, too! I saw a few things in the catalog that would look preeeetty good on you,” she sing-songed, walking two fingers up his chest to boop his nose after they plopped down onto the seat together. Ponyhead mimed vomiting at Tom, who silently laughed in response; they were so engrossed with each other that Tom was fairly certain they wouldn’t have noticed even if he’d shouted his laughter, though. He blankly stared at the spot the carriage had been for a few seconds after it exited in a blaze.

“Pretty gross, right?” Tom started and launched a fireball in the direction of the voice, hovering away from the intruder. A split second after, his vision caught up with his instincts and saw Janna in her usual green shirt and beanie and yellow skirt, sans jacket, nonchalantly sidestep the flame. “You do the same thing every time, you really need to work on that,” she chided with her arms crossed and a devious smirk on her face.

He rubbed his temple and gestured at her in sullen disbelief. “How did you-”

“Roof of the carriage.”

“Huh.” An eyebrow up in surprise, studying her expression. “You never usually, you know, answer that.”

She shrugged, kicking a boot into the hard stone floor. “Whatever, guess I’m just bored. Besides, half the reason I do that is to get a rise out of Marco,” she slyly snickered, and Tom couldn’t help but join in. “Alright, demon boy, what adventure are we going on today?”

Tom crossed his arms apprehensively. “Just trying to find a book for my mom, not really much of an adventure.”

“Like I said, dude, I’m bored and shopping is dumb. I don’t mind hanging out here for a study session or whatever, your family’s got great taste in decor.” She picked a skull off the ground and tossed it back and forth between her hands. He grinned back at her, grateful for the company. “So what kind of creepy curses are in this book?”

The pair started walking back into the study as their conversation continued. “Don’t think there are any. It’s called ‘Historia Homewnum’, according to my mom, so it’s probably a history book but that’s all I know.”

“Darn. Demon history’s bound to be pretty cool, though.”

“You’d be surprised how little actually happens down here, it’s just a lot of maintenance. Last month the most important thing I did was a ribbon-cutting ceremony at a new boba cornshake shop, it’s really caught on here since the Cleaving. But man is it good! Marco was right, the little pearls are just so tasty, I like the creamed corn version best.”

“What is it with you and corn, seriously...” Janna shuddered.

“Don’t knock it ‘till you try it.” He knew he’d gotten distracted thinking about the delicious creamy beverage, but that didn’t seem like an adequate reason to look so horrified, especially coming from Janna. Not able to figure out any other reason she might be disgusted by his comments, he got his thoughts back on track. “Really don’t know why she wants this thing so much. Anyway, I already checked the entire study for it, and the search archives don’t have anything either. Oh well, what can you do, might as well just give up and-”

“Found something,” Janna piped up, somehow already in the computer chair with her feet on the desk.

“Really? How?” he asked incredulously, throwing his hands in the air for emphasis.

“OK, I didn’t actually find the book, but maybe we should check this place out.” He leaned into the screen to see a Mewgle search for ‘how to find weird book in underworld’ on the screen.

“I already tried that, Janna!”

“Yeah, but your antivirus was blocking this link to some place called the ‘Librarinth’.”

Tom slammed his palm into his forehead. “Of course, the Librarinth! How could I not think to look there, that’s where all the oldest books are. Why was it getting blocked?”

She clicked on the link and both recoiled at the sight: an abhorrent patterned background with almost unreadable randomly colored text and low quality cartoon images scattered all around the page. “Yeah, it’s awful,” she said in response to his obvious horror. “Seriously, whoever must made this website must be, like, a thousand years old.”

“Probably , yeah, but why does that have anything to do with-” His eyes widened in realization as he clapped his hands together in contemplation. “Right, humans and their lifespans. Go on.”

“Look.”

She scrolled past the despondent, blurry faces of demons of all shapes and sizes in the staff section until she arrived at the catalog, folding her arms triumphantly. Tom excitedly butted in, typing into the search box and being greeted with a loading wheel. “Uh, Janna? It’s not working.”

“Pfft, yeah, I might actually be dead by the time the search finishes. But that doesn’t matter because they have our book. It’s the header image for the whole catalog.” He squinted and brought his face closer to the monitor, and to his surprise the title was clear as day on the cover of the book, although all the other information was too difficult to make out. “Alright, let’s go. Main page says the Librarinth is on Floor 216.”

With a snap of his fingers, the demon elevator was summoned into a bookshelf much as it had been the day they had dealt with the Blood Moon. Relicor’s shrieking, which had slowed to a whimper since they’d left, resumed in full; fortunately they began descending, which quickly put them out of earshot. Tom awkwardly stretched his arms, unsure what exactly to say. She was his friend, yes, but he was never the best at small talk, and Janna being Janna didn’t make that any easier. After long, messy years of broken hearts and misguided feelings, he finally felt comfortable forging friendships, but even though they got along quite well there was something about Janna that made that vibe a lot less effortless than with Marco or even Star. Thoughts of his other friends reminded him of something. “Uh, by the way… how did you even know about the carriage earlier?”

“A girl’s gotta keep some secrets.”

“Pony was posting about it every 15 seconds,” he guessed, calling Janna’s bluff.

“Touché. Every 10, though,” she coolly responded. “Ha, now she’s just flipping out because Star and Marco have way more likes than her selfies.”

“Figured you’d have him bugged or something,” Tom chuckled as he scooted over to get a look at Janna’s screen, and sure enough there was a picture collage of Star sitting in Marco’s lap with tens of thousands of likes and comments already. They were laughing their butts off at themselves in a mirror in front of them with novelty sunglasses, fake mustaches, goofy props, and even a few absurd full-body costumes; Ponyhead joined the fun for a few but just as often butt in trying to take over the mirror by herself.

“Ew, no, I disabled it all months ago. Boyfriend Tom was already too cutesy for me, and you two just had a little flirty fling. Do you think I’d really want to see or hear whatever Star and Marco have going on? They’re, like, deeply in love, or whatever, and it’s gotten even worse in the last few weeks.”

He murmured in tacit agreement. Now that he thought about it, they had seemed even more affectionate than usual, but he wasn’t too keen on uncovering why that might be. The ding of the elevator saved him from any further speculation, and he and Janna stepped out of the elevator into the lobby, which was empty with cobwebs coating most of the weathered stone walls. Janna looked at him with a quizzical expression. “Anyway, so the Librarinth is basically a combination of a library and a labyrinth-”

“Right, I got that,” she curtly retorted.

“The legends say that some ancient librarian demons wanted to challenge any who sought knowledge, so they hid all the books in a giant maze that only the worthy could navigate. But everyone who made it still decided to organize it thoroughly for some reason, and you still had to check out the books and bring them back and all that.”

She ran a finger over the dust on the front counter, and the surface of the desk sizzled in response, causing her to pull her hand back before poking the bubbles that formed with a curious smile. “So why is it completely empty?”

Tom rubbed the back of his neck. “Weeeeeeell, after a few people went missing or insane, everyone realized it really wasn’t a great way to, you know, run a library. Grandpa actually started collecting books to try and get them away from this place. No one really knows what goes on in there, but as far as I know it’s still maintained even though no one uses it. The kingdom stopped staffing the lobby but they could never just shut it down because anyone who tried, well-”

“Went missing or insane. Sounds cool, I’m in.”

“You sure?”

“Dude, you brought me to a wicked hell maze filled with psychotic demon nerds. Maybe there’ll be bottomless pits or a wicked dungeon boss. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re flirting with me, Mr. Lucitor,” she purred, running a finger up his chest and flicking his nose.

“Haha, very funny. And it’s Prince Lucitor,” he sarcastically chided, poking her arm in response before crossing the room with her following, but he couldn’t help but hide that he was flustered. Seeing Star and Marco’s relationship in the past year had reinforced his already-firm convictions about romance: he wanted someone with whom he could be life partners in all ways, not just handholding and rooftop picnics. Otherwise, what would be the point? He’d made that mistake enough times, and even just a light jab at the notion of him casually flirting struck made him feel self-conscious about that past. Finally his reflection was halted when he found what he sought: a large wrought iron door furnished with ornate demonic symbols and various carvings of mythological creatures dwarfed them both. With a soft, steady flame for light, he brought his hand up and ran it over the rusty engravings. He jumped back with a gasp as the fire spread into the lines of the door, lighting up the patterns on it and causing it to creak as it slowly opened.

“Nice,” Janna muttered in awe before strolling inside, with Tom hesitantly following. She was the most eager of their little group to dive headfirst into the unknown, even more than Star most of the time, but he trusted her gut.

They started walking down the long, cramped hallways, hearing only the sound of their own footsteps on the cold floor. Janna peeked her head into a small doorway that appeared to their left, earning herself an explosive blast to the face and getting knocked onto her butt. Tom slammed the door shut and leaned in to read an inscription next to it. “Incinerator for any books too damaged or damaging for further use. Probably not the right place.”

Janna huffed, brushing herself off and finding scraps of paper among the char. “I can see that. Seriously, what kind of labyrinth labels its doors?”

“Maybe one run by book nerds,” Tom offered, gripping her hand to help her up.

“So it’s just as bad at being a labyrinth as it is a library. Neat. Great adventure.”

Tom pressed on, keeping his focus ahead of them. “Hey, I’m just here to help my mom. You’re the one that said you were fine with anything.”

“Fine, fine. Just saying, I could be working on my potions or something.” She pulled a glass bottle full of purple liquid from her skirt pocket and casually tossed it at a wall. Janna snickered at Tom’s yelp when it shattered, but found herself joining him in backing away when a chunk of stone quickly deteriorated and slammed into the ground at incredible speed. She went over and carefully kicked a pebble, finding it impossible to even budge. “See, this was just a stupid pro-gravity potion. Worthless.”

He leaned against the stable wall opposite the hole, sighing. “I’m sure there has to be something interesting here. What if we, I dunno, make it a competition or something?” His frustration with both the situation and Janna were there, yes, but he still wanted to try and get something fun out of the day.

“Go on,” Janna said, eyes flickering up from the bottle that she was tossing between her hands nonchalantly.

OK, maybe he should have thought further ahead. His arms flailed as he scrambled to come up with an idea. “OK, so, uh, whoever finds the weirdest thing in this place in the next hour wins. Just call them out if you think you found something. Or whoever finds the book, whichever comes first, yeah. Mom still needs it.”

“Momma’s boy. I respect that. You’re on, Tom.” Janna cocked an eyebrow, staring at him for a second before pushing off the wall into a sprint, opening the first door she could find. “Empty. Another empty. Three empties, dammit.”

Tom used his flight to travel more smoothly from door to door on his side of the corridor, but still found himself losing ground as he took the time to read the sign posted by each threshold. The ‘Demonic Studies’ room had a very ornately ghoulish aesthetic, with macabre skeletal models throughout. Definitely something to show Janna on the way out just for the aesthetic, and it’d have been weird for most humans, but it wasn’t any more abnormal than what the two of them were used to as a daily routine. Another room for astronomy had an exquisite planetarium dome, but it turned out to be rather useless as the Underworld did not, in fact, contain any stars since it was underground. There was, however, a plentiful selection of guides to stalactites stocked on the shelves. The next four whole sections were devoted to anger management self-help books, which only made him waste precious seconds cringing at old memories.

His pace picked up as he kept going from door to door finding nothing but normal library fare, although he had to admit it was certainly well-maintained. On any other day he might actually enjoy some of the things here, but today he was on a mission to get out of here so they could actually have fun elsewhere.

‘Bookworms’... now that had potential. What sorts of hybrid creatures could lurk behind the inches of wood? “I think I might have found something!” he shouted, throwing open the door only to receive a harsh shushing. Within were only elderly demons in cozy sweaters reading by candlelight, all now glaring at him with an intensity that reminded him of his mom’s own rare reprimands. “Never mind,” he loud-whispered back out into the hall as he gently closed the door and found Janna in a nearby corridor. “Ugh, why is there nothing interesting here?” Sparks trailed behind him from his mounting anger as he paced.

“Tell me about it, even ‘Wormbooks’ was just a bunch of regular novels, somehow,” she sighed. “I was hoping for a big long chain of open books slithering around on the ground, now there’s a party.” She slumped down against the wall next to the streak of flame he’d left on the ground, idly stamping it out with her boot until Tom sat down beside her.

“Wouldn’t a wormbook be the opposite? A big fat worm in the shape of a book?”

“Nah, it’d totally be a book made of a bunch of little flatworms all working together, duh. Still pretty lame.”

OK, now he knew something was up with her. “Janna, is- is something wrong?”

Her body slouched further down until she was almost horizontal on the cold floor, staring ahead of her like a zombie. “Being weird has just felt so pointless lately. Everything’s weird now, all the time! I’m wasting all my time trying to brew potions when there’s a shop that sells them on every corner. I got so bored that I even passed that same dumb test Marco did and now I’m done with high school, like, for real this time.”

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself, that’s pretty impressive.”

“It’s easy if you know who to blackmail.” Tom blinked a few times, not sure why he’d expected anything different. “Everyone else is moving on with their lives, but I’m still feeding the same old possums and picking up the same old tennis balls. The whole point of my routine is that it’s different, it’s me, it’s my Jannanigans or whatever Star calls it, but it’s just not the same. I’m still into all that stuff, and Earthni’s actually really cool, but… ugh.” With that, her head fully sunk to the ground.

Tom brought his palms together over her head, opening and shutting his hands while wiggling his fingers around. “It’s a wormbook,” he said hesitantly, not really sure what he was doing. It was silly amusement, but perhaps that was just what she needed right now. Janna frowned and rolled her eyes, so he snapped at her arm with his hand puppet wormbook a few times.

“Alright, I get it,” she barked out, but her sullen demeanor slowly cracked under the onslaught of frivolity as she sat back up with an unusually ponderous look at him.

“Remember that time you took me bootsledding?” She nodded. “You told me that I needed to find a life outside of Star, and- and it was really great advice. Didn’t mean I still couldn’t like spending time with Star or anything, heck, I still do! But I just needed to get out of that rut of depending on it. Maybe you just need to do that, too. If doing your weirdness by yourself is normal, then adding something normal might be kinda weird.”

“That’s it.” Janna leapt to her feet, looking very suddenly invigorated. “That’s it!”

“Well, uh, glad you liked it. It was nothing, really, just trying to be a good pal-”

“Yeah, yeah, that too,” she waved dismissively, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit scorned. “If weird is normal then normal is weird. We were looking for the craziest things we could find here, but everything that should have been weird was normal, so we should be looking for the most painfully boring room here!” All three of Tom’s eyes blinked a few times as her words sunk in. Could it be…? “Tom, over here!” He hustled over to a particularly plain wooden door. Janna pointed at the plaque on the wall, which was far more faded than the others had been. “Look. ‘Government Records’.”

A burst of energy coursed through Tom’s blood, sparking life in him once more, and he could see the same reflected in Janna’s determined brown eyes. “And the book Mom wanted has something to do with history. Maybe it’s political history! Janna, you might be a genius!”

“Pfft, ‘might’. Now we just gotta…” She grabbed his arm, aiming it at the door, and he looked at her incredulously. “C’mon, dude, who knows what’s behind there. We’re gonna bust in with a demon blast, duh. Pew-pew!”

He rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lip turning up in a begrudging smile gave away his agreement. The pair aimed at the door and blew it off its hinges before charging in through the smoke.

“I see you two have finally solved the grand riddle of the Librarinth!” A deep, booming voice greeted them from the smoke. “Janna Ordonia, Thomas Lucitor, you certainly took your time. I expected you to book it here much more quickly. No matter, for this room shall be your tome!”

“How do you know my-” Janna stammered.

“Uh, don’t you mean tomb-” Tom started at the same time before realizing the wordplay and groaning in misery. Wait a second… Epic threats, an obvious personality quirk…

“Dungeon boss!” the teens cheered together, glancing back and forth between each other and the remainder of the room in front of them obscured by shadow.

“It is I, the bookkeeper of this place. I guard the most sacred treasure of all… knowledge!” Paper rustled loudly, echoed throughout the cavernous space, far taller and wider than Tom had noticed when they first entered with a massive array of bookshelves many times taller than him in a single row near the back wall. The ground beneath them began to shake and Tom tossed a puff of light in front of him, exposing the wide chasm that had just opened up in the ground, swallowing all the shelving in the room. Neither were prepared for the sight that greeted them: a coiled mass unfurled from the abyss and slithering with purpose along the ground, finally raising itself up to stand at fifteen feet tall, swaying back and forth with enough force to create an artificial wind within the space. A closer look showed that the body was made of some peculiar segments of… books, of all shapes and sizes. The volume at the top of the chain was much larger and far more ornately embossed than the others, and on the blood red surface of the cover Tom could make out a set of eyes. As the picture became more and more clear, he could finally see what they were up against. Now THIS is a bookworm.

“Aren’t libraries supposed to be, like, public and free?” Janna blithely inquired.

“You are correct, child, but perhaps try reporting that to your friend there! The Lucitor family is the sworn enemy of this great Librarinth! That fiend Relicor pilfered our collection for his own use for millennia, and the rest tried to shut this place down for good. But worst of all, in the most egregious display of contempt I have witnessed since the dawn of writing itself… Prince Lucitor and his ilk have amassed twenty-six dollars in unpaid fees!”

The tension in the room nearly evaporated in a heartbeat as Tom and Janna paused momentarily before bursting out into raucous laughter.

“Seriously, dude? I could just, like, repay it.” He fumbled in his pockets for his wallet for a moment before being interrupted once more.

“Do not condescend to me, children! It is far too late to make up for these sins with mere currency. Revenge is my fee most overdue, now prepare to meet… Overdoom! I shall harness the power of the written word to spell your demise!”

Books were hurled from the depths of the crevice en masse. Tom stepped in front of Janna to blast them away, but they had taken on a life of their own and homed in on him, covers flapping in the air like wings. Behind Tom, Janna snatched one out of the air to thwart a flank attack. She grabbed his left arm and pointed it up, tapping his elbow frantically. He spared a glance and saw the paper tornado coalescing, and understood her intention. Demon flames surged out of both hands with Janna calling the shots for the left side and Tom focusing on his right. They used the opportunity to back up to a wall, letting them cover every attack vector but creating a stalemate they were sure to lose in time as the seemingly endless offense droned on. Overdoom for the time being simply floated out of the abyss, glaring harshly at them as more and more papers kept emerging.

“Wait, Tom, look…” Still using his hand, she pointed to a shelf that had fallen at an odd angle and hadn’t collapsed into the abyss. There was a large, torn-up poster on which he could barely make out the word “Historia”.

“That might be it,” he breathed out, starting to feel the burn from minutes of nonstop vigilant defensive demon blasts. Oddly, none of the books in that corner were joining the assault. Almost as if...

“It’s making them magical in the chasm.” Tom’s heart leapt up in his chest at the revelation, hope and adrenaline mixing in his veins to keep him fully alert. But charging in was a suicide mission and they clearly couldn’t win on raw firepower.

“Have you had enough? Are you children yet ready to come scrawling on your hands and knees to a-tome for the sins of your forefathers?” the imposing figure growled, bristling impatiently.

“Did it seriously just use the tome pun again?” Janna griped, running her hands past her eyes and down her cheeks in disgust. “For a word nerd, that’s just awful.”

“Yeah…” Tom absent-mindedly responded. He knew she was right, though. Book, tome, scrawl… even if the creature’s summoning powers were off the charts, and it wielded them with calculated ease, its cocky wordplay taunts left something to be desired. It struck him then: what if they’d been approaching this all wrong? If the battle couldn’t be won by blows, then they had to find another option, and Tom was ready to put his plan into action.

He quickly shook off Janna’s rather tight grip on his arm and stepped forward, mustering up a confident expression masking any fears he still had left. “Nice try, Overdoom. Your words aren’t scaring us. Learn to read the room!”

Its “body” immediately began wiggling violently in the air as it crawled a bit forward towards them. Tom paid careful attention to its back end, which had climbed a few feet out of the ground in the move. “How dare you! Petulant brats!” Literary fire and brimstone rained down upon them with more fury than ever, and the two backed up into a corner which was the best they could do in a room largely devoid of any cover.

“What the hell-” Janna whispered through gritted teeth. Tom wriggled his tail out and waved it in front of Janna’s face momentarily. “Now is not the time to-” She was cut off when a barrage of index cards launched at them with enough force to somehow chip the stone behind them on impact. Tom forcefully nodded his head towards the worm’s tail, waggling his own once again. Her eyes lit up much like his had and she nodded in understanding.

“Come on, is that the best you got? I’ve heard them all before, at least give us something novel!”

Janna stood beside him, and her grimace even managed to spook Tom a bit. “I’d alphabet you couldn’t do better even if you tried!” Not what he would’ve gone with, but hey, if it helped tick Overdoom off then who was he to say no?

“You can talk up a storm all you want, but no matter what volume of air you blow, all I feel is a not-so-rough draft!”

“ENOUGH!” Overdoom’s tail launched out of the chasm faster than either could follow, crossing the room in a heartbeat. Tom shoved Janna out of the way before it wrapped itself around him, dragging him much more slowly towards the abyss. His jacket and jeans mercifully protected the paper edges pressing into him, but it was still a painfully tight squeeze that left him gasping for air. His arms were uselessly pinned inside the embrace as he was dragged headfirst, but their hypothesis had been proven correct as all the books around them had dropped to the ground lifeless.

“Tom!” Janna called out. He strained his head to see she’d removed her beanie and had something purple in her hand that she lobbed at that moment. Through the haze of pain he recognized it as another of her potions. The arc was due to miss until he summoned his energy reserves and redirected it with a weak burst of flame from his boot. Though the glass was durable enough to not melt or shatter, the demonic heat changed the potion into a bubbling olive green milliseconds before it contacted a random segment of the behemoth they were fighting. All at once, its hold on Tom and the rest of its body went limp as it began floating lazily into the air before bouncing off the ceiling a few times like a balloon. Janna ran over and helped Tom up as Overdoom screamed inarticulately from many feet above. They traversed the chaotic mess towards the pile they’d spotted previous. After some digging around, he found ‘Historia Homewnum’ miraculously unscathed and protected by a large, sturdy slab of mahogany that had fallen flat on top of it. “I got it!”

“Cool, potion is wearing off. We need to go.” Janna calmly stated. Twin jets of fire erupted from his feet as he swiftly passed the book to Janna and scooped her up in his arms, carrying them across the room towards the door. After setting Janna down, he hesitated for a moment as she stood in the doorway.

“Do you think I should still pay the late fee? I feel kinda bad and-”

“TODAY MAY HAVE BEEN YOUR VICTORY, BUT TOME-ORROW WILL-”

Tom sighed in resignation with a very unimpressed expression. “OK, yeah, never mind.” And with a quick slam of the door, they were both out scot-free. They didn’t stop running until they arrived back at the elevator. Once inside, they slumped down onto the ground as they began the journey back up to the main surface of the Underworld.

“Woo!” Tom was caught off guard by Janna expressing visible joy, and it was immediately infectious. “Now that’s an adventure. Of course, demon fire is what makes the potions work. Makes a lot more sense. Stupid ink smudge, I burned all those lemons for nothing.” He belly laughed, falling over to the floor and clutching his gut as Janna kicked him in the arm.

“Sorry, sorry, couldn’t help it.”

Her foot backed off after one last good hit. “So now you just have to give that book to your mom?”

“Yeah, should only take a minute. Want to come with?”

“Dude, she’s half a story tall and cries lava. I’d be honored. Oh crud, Pony’s current stream title is ‘WHY Y’ALL CARE MORE ABOUT EARTH TURD AND B-FLY THAN ME?!?!’” Janna showed him the notification on her phone. “That can’t be good.”

Tom pulled out his phone and called to see what was up. Pony picked up after only one ring and didn’t even bother with a greeting as she screamed so loudly that he lost hearing for a moment in his right ear. Her voice carried through the elevator car even without being put on speakerphone. “Yo Tom, why do all my Pony Pals just want to watch those two idiots kiss and cuddle? What is up with that? I even gave my fanbase a stupid nickname, they eat that stuff up, so why won’t they looooove meeeeee?” Business as usual with Pony, it seemed. “An-y-way, this whole shopping spree was amaaaazing, I am all kinds of extra fabulous now. B-Fly and Earth Turd took over the stream cuz the viewers, like, wanted a Q&A sesh but I’m only giving them twenty minutes! Hmph!”

“Might as well just make a whole show about them,” Janna chimed in, rolling her eyes a few times for good measure.

“Wait, demon boy, is Janna there? What the heck have you two been getting up to? Don’t tell me you too are getting your freak on too, I could not handle that T.M.I.-”

Yeah, there was nothing more to gain from that conversation. Tom flipped his compact shut, disconnecting the call. Wait, ‘too’? Did she mean- he shuddered involuntarily. You know what, nope, just not going to think about that one.

“So glad I turned off the cameras,” Janna mumbled, curling up into a ball on the floor, clearly not wanting to touch that whole situation either.

He opted to make contact with the other group via Marco instead - why he hadn’t just done that in the first place, he’d never know - and sent a quick text. “Marco wants to get dinner at the Waterfolk Kingdom in, like, an hour and a half. Apparently Star found some earrings she wanted at the last minute, and Pony got arrested for shoplifting three seconds after I hung up.”

Janna cackled in response. “Let’s just meet them there. My jacket got ripped to shreds by the possums last week, might as well get a new one while I’m down here. Been thinking about changing it up. I kinda like that style.” She lifted up his arm and poked at a button on the sleeve of his own.

“Uh, yeah, sure, I can show you where I got it.” He stumbled over his words, still caught off guard by this new normal-person-Janna. The elevator dinged and the teens began their trek through the Lucitor castle in search of the queen. “So, the Librarinth... we’re definitely going back there at some point, right?”

“Totally, bet’s still not over. We should do this more often, you’re not so bad a friend.”

“You too, and yeah, we should.” Looking back on the day, it had honestly been one some of the most fun he’d had in a while, despite almost dying at least once. Tom still wasn’t sure what to make of this friendship brewing between them, but if it meant more days like this to look forward to? Maybe he could get used to that.