#AUGH ​can’t wait to see the other content for these two!!!!

[stix-n-bread]

day 1 of @spacecampweek: stars

two geeks on an outdoor date, alien geek explaining and guiding human geek over the types of stars while staying close with each other because warmth and love and to melt hearts into puddle.,…….

(dates and prompts!)

EDIT: I READ THE RULES WRONG AND I’M A MONTH TOO EARLY IN POSTING THIS OOPS DHJSJFJDKD?? SO UH IGNORE THIS UNTIL JULY??? 😭

[miraculouscontent]

It’s heeeeere! Another summasalt, this time with nearly twice the length of the first one!

(Turns out that not having caffeine doesn’t help me talk any slower.)

Script below:

Anonymous asked:

Thoughts on Rocketear?

Can you Rocketear the newest episode apart with your salt, my beloved Salt Queen?

Penny for your thoughts on Rocketear?

Aw, anon! You can have that for free! I'm a generous goddess.

"Rocketear" begins with Chat Noir and Carapace - just Carapace, really - holding back a pack of what I presume to be the physical manifestation of the writing staff's age, or at least a representation of how behind the times the writing seems.

Just as the dinosaurs break through Shellter. Ladybug shows up with the scientist who revived the dinosaurs in the first place and said scientist uses a whistle to calm the dinosaurs down. There's also a line from Bob Roth about putting the dinosaurs in a theme park to make money and I know what it's referencing but it's so incredibly random that it doesn't really come off as a proper joke.

Carapace was notably sad right after battle, but insisted that he was fine when Ladybug asked. Rena, sporting a... - I would like to say "new design" but it's a recolor in every sense of the word - is hiding behind part of a building and smiles after the heroes before walking off. Ladybug takes Nino's miraculous back but sees that he's still upset and asks him again what's wrong. Nino asks where Alya was and Ladybug claims that she only needed Carapace for the job, which cheers him up but only until Ladybug is already gone.

Mm, I guess Nino and Adrien relate in heroism not being enough for them unless they have their respective love interest to flirt with.

Also, I know this is an obvious set-up, but the show can't tell me that Ladybug just always brought Nino and Alya whenever she needed one of them. Season 3 required her to go to Master Fu to get the miraculouses, and unless she already knew that Nino and Alya would be in the same location - which, okay, the show does basically shove the two of them together whenever Nino is onscreen, fair, if two characters are in a relationship in this show then it's weird for them to NOT be with that person - but it just seems like a gamble, not to mention proof to Shadow Moth that the two are close if Ladybug constantly brings both of them.

Anyway, Ladybug goes into the sewer and asks Rena if she's seen any sign of Shadow Moth or his traps. Rena didn't see anything and they de-transform. Marinette is about to leave when she thinks of something, but Alya assumes it's about her new look, which was apparently not voluntary on her part and the suit automatically adapted to Alya's new role as Rena Furtive, which she has now named it as.

Marinette reminds her that this is supposed to be a secret and that they agreed that the fox has no owner. When Alya is evasive about whether she told Nino that she won't be Rena anymore, Marinette stresses that everyone needs to believe that Alya won't be using a miraculous anymore so that she can remain an undercover spy.

What's the point in changing the look if you're not going to show yourself anyway? I mean, insurance, I guess, but still.

Alya, exasperated, parrots what Marinette has apparently told her before: that she helps Ladybug with Mirage in case Shadow Moth tries to follow her so Rena can follow him instead. Marinette stresses the situation again and Alya tries to get Marinette to agree on her telling Nino that she's Rena Furtive, but Marinette refuses.

At Marinette's house, Alya talks further and explains that she doesn't know if she can lie to Nino since they don't keep any secrets--Alya, babe, you kept Rena Rouge from him and didn't tell him that you knew he was Carapace until Ladybug was forced to give you your miraculouses at the same time. I don't wanna hear it.

Marinette states that it's too late for that and also not technically a lie, but Alya gets upset and says that Nino will never trust her again if he finds out that she kept something from him. Marinette brings up how she had to keep secrets from Alya too, but they're interrupted by Tom appearing and wanting to play games with them. Marinette makes an excuse about homework that she's repeated many times, as Tom comments that the teachers give her too much. After Tom is kicked out - hang on, lemme just... - Marinette uses the moment to show Alya that she's lied to her family a lot and hasn't played games with her father in months. She states that there's no other option as they have to protect their identities, and Alya agrees to talk to Nino.

In Alya's room - I just presume at this point that Nino's house doesn't exist and Chris is an illusion - Alya tells Nino that they need to talk, but stammers and states that it's hard to talk about. Nino thinks that she wants to break up with him, but Alya assures that she loves him. She finally gets to the cover story that Rena herself made up in "Sentibubbler" and Nino understands, sad that she won't be around anymore but agreeing if it's what Ladybug thinks is best.

Is it weird that Nino respects Ladybug's wishes more than Alya does?

Nino hugs her and is confused by why Alya was nervous to tell him, as she can tell him anything and nothing will change their relationship. Alya feels guilty and hugs back, murmuring about how they don't have any secrets; that's not what Nino said, but sure, push this plot to its already predictable conclusion. I mean, I thought it was vaguely sweet that Nino switched to seriousness immediately when Alya said that she wanted to talk, but how am I supposed to be invested in this couple when their dynamic boils down to "STRONG, INDEPENDANT WOMAN who wears the pants in the relationship because her boyfriend is portrayed as a wimpy coward"? Like, the show constantly dragged Nino down to make Alya look "powerful" by comparison, and then when it comes to characters like Marinette, we get a girl who works very well outside of her relationship with her endgame love interest.

It's the fakest form of "girl power," dragging guys down to raise girls up or actually making a strong girl character but having her love interest be a weakness that creates flaws in her that weren't there originally and having that love interest be who she's "destined for."

I'm rambling, sorry.

In class, Marinette assures Alya that she did the right thing and Alya agrees. As they're leaving school, Marinette talks about how their "night walks" start soon, and Alya non-subtly talks about how Rena Furtive will be on the lookout while Ladybug and Chat Noir patrol. She stops, however, as gets excited about some pictures she took of herself as Rena Furtive, which has a lot of details that Marinette hasn't seen. I don't know whether to groan at what I just heard or remind everyone that Rena Furtive is literally just a recolor and therefore this is the writers patting themselves on the back for this design, so let's just move on.

Alya then shows Marinette her phone--AUGH, MY EYES--and suggests making a poll on her Ladyblog so people can vote for their favorite Rena design. Marinette has to stress again that Rena Furtive is supposed to be a spy and thus invisible, which Alya admits that she forgot about.

Okay, I've been holding off on talking about this, but now seems like the best time to bring it up. Alya has been a trash friend as well as a trash confidant, and her role as Rena Rouge boiled down to, "it was convenient for her to be the fox at the time it was needed." She's not particularly stealthy like one would expect of a fox, and she was easily one of the worst candidates to be told Marinette's big secret. I'll get more into this later, but I have to stress that Alya has treated Marinette no differently since learning of Marinette's identity and has already gone against Marinette's orders once before at the time of this episode airing. Episodes are constantly torn between validating their decision to have Marinette tell Alya, having Marinette be worried about the decision while the show considers her to be ridiculous for it, and then having Alya either consider or make choices that clearly don't gel well with what's good for her role. Much like Marinette, she lacks a sense of self-control and--wow, a female character who's impulsive, never seen that stereotype before.

Point being, "Sentibubbler" stressed over and over that Alya was the right choice and deserved to be both the permanent fox and the understudy for guardian, but then we have "Rocketear" here where Alya is making basic emotionally-driven errors that I'm not even remotely sympathetic to when Marinette has gone through so much worse over the course of three+ seasons.

*sigh*

Alya laments that it's hard to find new content for the Ladyblog - ah, yes, tell me more about your struggles, Alya - but figures that at least she can post stuff about Chat Noir instead of--I don't know--making fake Ladybug theories to lead people off Marinette's trail. Marinette says that it's a great idea, though Alya still doesn't look too happy. The scene then rewinds to a little bit to show a different point of view, this time with Adrien and Nino. Wait, this feels familiar, wasn't there another episode that did something like--ohhhh no, this is going to hurt.

After saying good-bye to Adrien - something I wish I could do every time he's mentioned or on-screen - Nino catches the bit of conversation where Alya talks about the Ladyblog. Nino talks as if Marinette isn't there and asks Alya out to the movies because Marinette is chopped liver and this is about Alya and how sad she is, guys.

Wow, she's turning into Adrien faster and faster.

Alya hesitates, but Marinette assures her that there's still time. Alya excitedly runs off with Nino and they watch what I presume are previews given the narrator, featuring recycled footage from the Ladybug PV. Nino is upset because Rena is mentioned but not Carapace, and the preview features Rena telling Chat Noir to forget Ladybug because it's Chat and Rena herself who are trulu made for each other.

I don't know what's funnier; the complete lack of self-awareness or the suggestion that a biracial couple would exist in this show outside of a special that gives them maybe a minute of screentime and acts more like suggestive canon anyway. I think I might've been too generous with that line about dinosaurs.

Nino is offended by the preview and Alya brushes off his comments, stating that it's just a cartoon and it's made to entertain people, though Nino himself is certainly not entertained. Can't say I entirely blame him considering that Alya doesn't really try to say anything substantial or even agree with him. No cuddling or reassuring kisses, she just gets slightly sad and turns to her phone for a bit.

After the movie, Nino is cheered back up again until he catches Alya on her phone once more. He offers to take her home, but she's distracted, and he comments that what she showed to Marinette looked pretty nice; I don't know because they didn't show it. Nino asks what it was and Alya evades the question, stating that her battery is running out. Nino is suspicious, but spots Andre's ice cream cart and the two head over there. Andre calls them his favorite couple and asks what they want, but Alya sees Ladybug gesturing for her and has to run off, giving Nino a cheek kiss as she goes which feels like too little too late at this point.

Nino catches some conveniently-placed kids arguing over who Chat Noir loves, but they settle on the fact that girls in general love Chat Noir. Nino is then seen at the Seine watching the Ladyblog's latest video, where Alya is talking up how amazing Chat Noir is. I hate to stop every five seconds to complain - okay, actually I don't - but I presume this video must've been made after the movie since Nino seems like the type who would actively follow his girlfriend's blog, yet not only is this video perfectly set up to echo the kids and the movie preview, but Alya - despite apparently caring about her boyfriend soooo much that she kept trying to convince Marinette to bend the rules - didn't even try to warn Nino or text him so he doesn't take it too seriously. It's like "Sentibubbler" with the conflicting messages about identity rules; Alya cares about her boyfriend but both isn't thinking about how he'll take the things she says and apparently doesn't know him well enough to realize that he wouldn't be mad over her keeping a secret that she was told to keep. I already talked about how they play up Nino to be the emotionally weaker one of the relationship, but then they don't have Alya try to cover or make up for that. She's been acting very much not like Alya - you know, the one who in "Sapotis" practically bragged about how great she'd be at covering for Ladybug - with her stutters and weak excuses, so I can't completely blame Nino for being upset after everything that's happened when he sees the writers projecting onto Alya as she talks about how Chat Noir is brave and funny and cute and showing all these images of him as well. I don't agree with all of his actions, but--oh yeah, speaking of which--

Nino calls Adrien and is talking to him about how Alya must be in love with someone else. Adrien dismisses the idea, as Alya and Nino are together basically all the time, and asks who she could possibly be in love with. When Nino suggests that it's Chat Noir, Adrien laughs and jokes about it being Fang instead. Nino points out the video but Adrien did see it but is overall unphased and convinced that it means nothing. Nino says that he'll find proof and hangs up, but Adrien is certain he'll find nothing. Plagg comments that Nino will find someone because Plagg's charisma has definitely contaminated Adrien.

Ugh.

Adrien expresses concern that he put on the cat's charm too much and accidentally made Alya fall for him, and decides to visit Alya as Chat Noir to be sure.

Meanwhile, we get a reference to film noirs as Nino narrates. That's the second blatant reference this episode and now I feel like they wrote this script while doing a movie marathon.

Chat Noir arrives at Alya's house and Trixx hides before Alya opens the curtains to reveal her surprise guest. Nino is nearby watching the scene with his phone as Alya wonders aloud if something's wrong. Chat assures that everything's fine, but brings up the video she posted. He insists that it made him happy, but points out that she's been following him and Ladybug since the beginning and that they know each other much better due to everything that's happened. He has some conveniently-worded dialog as he starts to say that he hopes something's just an illusion and Alya gets worried that he's about to bring up Rena. Chat continues and clarifies that he wonders if she started to feel something for him, though adds that he understands because just look at him.

UGGGGH.

Chat clarifies by making a heart with his hands, which Nino sees. Alya laughs at this gesture and states that she has a boyfriend, doing the same heart gesture and suggesting that her love for Nino is even more than that. Chat Noir apologizes - hm, I didn't know he had the capacity to do that - and hugs Alya, saying that he was just confused.

An absolutely unnecessary hug for two people who, at least in terms of their current selves, have had very little screentime together, but this is also the show where making eye contact basically means your friends and it's all just to push the plot along so Nino inteprets that Alya is in love with Chat Noir, so whatever I guess.

Alya states that Nino is far more irresistable than Chat, then adds that she doesn't even know his secret identity, and she'd never fall in love with someone she doesn't know. Nino then runs away upset and the scene cuts away to the next day where--

Wait, wait, wait, hang on a second. Two things right off the bat there.

First off, we're just gonna sidle past that "wouldn't fall in love with someone you don't know the identity of" while ignoring the existence of the love square? Not even Chat thinking about how he doesn't know Ladybug's identity and trying to excuse that he doesn't have to? This guy is that certain of their relationship?

Secondly, Nino is practically sobbing and Shadow Moth doesn't take this as his opportunity? Same guy who akumatized Mr. Pigeon 72 times and has akumatized Gigantitan more than once? What is this pacing???

But--alright, so Adrien comes into school and sees Nino, still dressed up in his detective gear, which gets ignored completely as Adrien goes to tell him about Chat Noir and Alya. Because the show doesn't know how Adrien would convey this within reason, Nino interrupts him, taking him down into the lower part of the school where he has a desk and chairs set up. Adrien goes to ask when Nino had time to do this, but Nino slams his hand on the desk to cut him off. Nino presents the evidence he took and they go back and forth, likewise with Adrien turning off the background music while Nino turns it back on. Adrien insists that it's a misunderstanding, but pleads innocent when Nino asks how he knows. Adrien states that Alya is just a superhero fan and that she and Chat Noir have nothing in common.

Again, the complete lack of self-awareness is astonishing.

Adrien repeats what Alya said about secret identities and how she wouldn't fall for someone she doesn't know - they're really ignoring this, aren't they? - and continues hitting Nino's soft spots about how unlikely it is until Nino decides to tell Adrien something he's not supposed to.

He tells Adrien, not only that Alya is Rena Rouge, but that he's Carapace. Adrien goes through a range of emotions beyond sAD for once, shocked at the fact that they know each other's identities. Nino states that they don't keep secrets from each other, except now Alya is with Chat Noir. Adrien still doesn't understand and brings up how secret identities have to be protected, or else Nino wouldn't have told him because Ladybug wouldn't agree to it.

Oh, here we go. So that's why they waited.

Nino states that it was Ladybug herself who gave them their miraculouses at the same time; not giving the reason why, of course, nor pointing out that they're temporary heroes so there's understandably some leeway. Adrien is having a moment, but manages to bring the subject back to Alya and Chat Noir, who he still doesn't think are a thing. Nino argues that it's because Adrien doesn't know Chat Noir, but he does because he's Carapace and knows how Chat Noir acts. He says that it's all flowers and confessions when Ladybug appears, but he gets rejected because Ladybug thinks that he's annoying, and she's right. He adds that Chat flirts with Rena Rouge and that's all that needs to happen, with Chat stepping in on the first mission Carapace lost in. Nino laments the loss of the love of his life and wishes to shut Chat Noir up forever; we all do, Nino, we all do. Shadow Moth finally steps in with - oh, less than eight minutes left in the episode, yikes - and Nino is akumatized into Rocketear.

Rocketear rejects Adrien's pleas to stop, insisting that Chat Noir is who he's after, not Adrien, and Adrien transforms in sad fashion despite Plagg's reminder of who Rocketear is after. Alya, meanwhile, is in the art club with Marinette - wait, since when was Alya in the art club - telling Marinette about how Chat Noir thought she was into him due to the video, which Marinette groans at. There's an earthquake and they peek outside to see Rocketear firing his tears at Chat Noir, shouting that he stole Alya from him. Chat Noir tries to tell him otherwise, but Rocketear won't listen.

Alya groans at Nino doing this, then she and Marinette set off to find a place to transform. They conveniently go to the same place Adrien and Nino were, so they see the desk that Nino had set up.

Genuine question, how seriously does this episode want me to take itself, because now when I recount all the unnecessary love square drama in my head - because you know that's where this is going - I'm going to have to think, "Nino, dressed in a detective outfit, ripped off his fake mustache and told Adrien both his and Rena's identities, and also that Ladybug was totally cool with it and thinks that Chat Noir is annoying."

Gettin' two completely different vibes here. The episode clearly wants to be important but it doesn't take itself seriously either, which it totally could while including enough jokes to keep things light. Instead, I'm just left scratching my head and wondering what tone they're going for.

Marinette finds Nino's phone on the desk - I'm calling continuity error on that one because he at no point put it on the desk, at least not on-screen - and she questions Alya on the video she sees. Alya insists that nothing happened, apparently completely unphased by her boyfriend having spied on her, and says that he wouldn't have misunderstood if he'd heard the actual conversation.

The two transform and Ladybug immediately uses Lucky Charm, receiving a projector. Ladybug is clueless and Rena Furtive suggests creating an imaginary movie like Nino. Ladybug gets an idea, remembering Alya's earlier comments, and Rena confirms that she remembers every word of it.

Aaaaand, just like that, all of the tension has been completely sucked away. You know, "Backwarder" was a trash episode, but at least when Ladybug was showing every step of her plan, she didn't tell us what it was.

Meanwhile, Rocketear and Chat Noir are still arguing--I started zoning out at hearing the same thing over and over again at this point, so I just presume they were fighting over who does stuff behind their love interest's backs better; I don't think they came to an agreement but they're both losers anyway.

Chat Noir says that he'll prove his innocence, tossing his baton aside to show him giving up, but Rocketear points out that it proves nothing and strikes Chat Noir with his tears.

Our endgame love interest, everyone. Straight As yet about as smart as a sack of bricks, and that at least won't flirt with anyone non-consensually.

Chat Noir makes a point that he doesn't want to hurt Rocketear, and Shadow Moth tells Rocketear to take his miraculous before finishing him. Chat Noir can only weakly tell him not to before Ladybug snags Rocketear's wrist and diverts the shot. Ladybug explains to Rocketear about the projector and how it'll let him hear the audio of the recording he took. She adds that she doesn't know what Chat said, but she trusts him.

Marinette, I'm sorry, I feel so bad for you.

Ladybug turns on the projector and Rocketear relaxes at actually hearing what was going on. Rena then de-transforms and hurries out to meet with Rocketear, hugging him as Rocketear apologizes for doubting her. Alya also kinda sorta apologizes in a way I don't understand and Rocketear then breaks his akumatization, very casually, all on his own.

Yeah, just--casually, in a matter of seconds in fact. You know, it's really sad when people resisting akumatizations are more tense and emotionally compelling than them breaking them. This is twice in one season now and has zero impact considering that Nino's reason for being akumatized was already taken care of so he had no reason to stay akumatized anyway. Him breaking his own object to release the akuma would've at least been different, but instead it's just a repeat of what Alya went through with even less tension considering that Alya's wasn't even that good in the first place, relying on her relationship to Ladybug rather than who she knew to be her best friend.

Moving on, Ladybug captures the akuma and uses Miraculous Ladybug to bring everything back to normal. Shadow Moth monologues about how love and secrets don't go well together and he's sure that she has a lot and I'll talk about this later.

Ladybug hands over the magical charm, which Nino takes but insists that he won't need it, as he'll never let Shadow Moth use his love to manipulate him again. Plenty of other things to get akumatized over, but they gave the supposedly ace character a robot to help him stick out and also gave the supposedly aro character a miraculous back in season one to give her more importance. If characters aren't in love then they need something to ceompensate for it.

Nino apologizes to Chat Noir for being wrong and Chat Noir assures him that everyone has doubts, even him. He gets sad and Ladybug asks him what's wrong, but he insists that he's fine - officially throwing away his right to be upset at her later as far as I'm concerned - and they do their usual fist buuuuu--

...Really?

Everyone then splits up and Chat Noir sulks by himself instead of--you know, talking to Ladybug, or asking her anything, or making any sort of excuse for her because that would mean he actually has faith in her and understands that their partnership is different from temporary heroes, even if the excuse was as basic as her wanting to protect him more than the others because he would be that egotistical if they didn't want to stretch out this unnecessary drama.

Later on, Adrien is staring at a picture on the Ladyblog that might be a metaphor for the show considering how "in the foreground" Chat Noir and Rena are.

Adrien vents about Ladybug giving miraculouses to Alya and Nino, but Plagg states that she's the guardian. Adrien clarifies that he's referring to Alya and Nino knowing each other's identities, but Plagg doesn't see the issue. Adrien gets huffy and asks why the rule exists for LadyNoir but not Ninya, but Plagg again points out that she's the guardian, so she makes the rules, though obviously he uses cheese metaphors to convey it.

Okay, Plagg is only, like--half-right because he doesn't have all the information. If you don't mind me rambling for a bit, I'm on the fence here because, on one hand--yes, I agree that Marinette should be allowed to make her own rules, and I often do that in my writing because I think she should be permitted leeway in order to let herself be happy, but on the other hand, it's not technically her rule, as she had to let Alya and Nino in on their identities back in the Season 2 finale, so Fu was still around for a season. She wasn't even guardian yet!

Now, presumably so the fandom could blame Marinette if anything happened, Marinette never discussed this with Fu on-screen, so I can't say whether or not Fu knew, but I feel like he must've since Marinette had to have told him the heroes' identities off-screen, given "Party Crasher," and thus I imagine that Marinette would tell Fu everything that happened, which is consistent with what she does on-screen even if she'd keep things from him for a little while.

"Furious Fu" had also established that not even Master Fu followed rules completely, meaning that Marinette is in this awkward spot of mostly following what Fu taught her, which aren't all guardian rules anyway, and having to break the rules on occasion for various purposes. I can't say what Fu approved of and what he didn't, because episodes spend so much time on the love square that they forget about Marinette as a person and how she interacts with everyone else. From an emotional standpoint, I can't blame Marinette for not revoking the miraculouses of people whose identities get discovered because of her, as I imagine she feels guilty and it probably doesn't seem fair to force them into another miraculous or have them be entirely without one because of a mistake that she made, meaning that someone needs to be throwing a lot of red flags for Marinette to be through with them.

Though obviously, from the show's standpoint, it's just an excuse to not make new models, but I complained about that enough in "Sentibubbler" and this episode even went out of its way to design a detective model for Nino while spraypainting Alya's bodysuit in the same breath, so this is the world we live in.

Anyway, Marinette is essentially in this position where she still has Fu's rules hovering over her, but she's also trying to step out on her own and make her own decisions to varying degrees of success or failure depending on your point of view. Tikki--wait, no, bad idea--Su-Han then, could easily give input on these things, perhaps with Marinette discussing a modern day set of rules for someone her age and going back and forth with Su-Han on what the right choices to make are, finding something that's comfortable but within a realm of predictable control. Su-Han was okay with some rules being broken after seeing how Ladybug handled them and they could've easily made this episode about that instead, but instead, we get rules being set and then being broken on a writer's whim.

Which now brings us to the end of the episode, where Marinette is on the phone with Alya and apologizes for causing trouble between her and Nino. Alya tells her not to worry and she'll fix things - you know, those things that, to Marinette's knowledge, have already been fixed - and asks if Marinette trusts her. Marinette does, and Alya hangs up in order to face Nino.

Yeah, that feeling of dread in your stomach? That means you know how predictable the writing is and what's about to happen, good for you.

Alya explains that she has to tell Nino something and he's worried, this time trying to sheepishly break the tension. She explains that she's still Rena Rouge, much to Nino's shock, and adds that she's in hiding, which is why Ladybug didn't want her to tell anyone. Nino asks why she's telling him if she's not supposed to tell anyone - proving my point from a while back that he wouldn't have been upset had she kept it a secret - then asks if Ladybug agreed with it.

I want to give him a pat on the back for considering Ladybug, but he didn't even tell her when he had the chance that Adrien knows his identity now, so I'm just beaten down at this point.

Instead of answering the question directly, Alya says that she can't hide her identity from him because she loves him and they don't have secrets.

You know, like Nino telling Adrien about Rena's identity, or Alya saying specifically that she's a permanent holder, which I'm sure both of them will confess to since they said that they don't have--aaaaand the episode ends on happy triumphant music, okay.

I mean, I guess Alya at least didn't tell him that Marinette was Ladybug, but that is such a low bar and not even remotely worthy of congratulations when Alya told Nino the specific thing that Marinette told Alya not to tell; the thing that they had agreed on.

Nino wasn't upset anymore. He won't be getting akumatized either. Alya endured the supposed hardship of being a permanent fox holder for four episodes before breaking down and telling her boyfriend. Even her excuse doesn't hold any water because, again, they're both still technically keeping a secret, particularly Alya who knows Marinette's identity as Ladybug. The episode also apparently forgets that Alya and Marinette's friendship must not be as strong by her logic of telling Nino specifically everything, as Alya kept Rena Rouge a secret from Marinette for all of Season 3, but tells Nino about continuing to be Rena Rouge in Season 4. Boyfriends before BFFs without explicitly saying it, or to be more specific, whatever screws Marinette over the most, because that's what this comes down to, made worse by "Optigami" where Marinette told Alya that she'd tell her everything and I guess that doesn't go both ways.

"Sentibubbler" had Alya stress that no one would ever know. She promised Marinette and told Marinette to trust her, and the episode spent its entire running time talking her up and assuring Marinette that she was the right choice, even considering Marinette ridiculous for worrying when Alya had done something without Marinette's permission the episode right before it. Then, three episodes after "Sentibubbler," when Marinette is finally comfortable and trusts Alya completely, Alya betrays that trust. Nino betrayed that trust, knowing he wasn't supposed to do so but telling Adrien his and Rena's identity anyway, because he was losing an argument and needed to PROVE something.

Marinette gives them an inch and they take a mile. Marinette bent the rules so that they could continue to have the miraculous they'd started with and they disrespected her because it was hard for like a day.

And if this bites them back, it won't reflect poorly on them, it'll reflect poorly on Marinette.

It's not like Alya just overrode Marinette. She didn't go, "Hey, I'm telling Nino, I'm sorry," or tried her hardest to go back and forth with Marinette until they both agreed. No, she did what she told Marinette she wouldn't do without saying a word to her, because LOVE and SEEEECRETS.

And this only applies to her, of course, because don't think I didn't notice the parallels between this episode and "Truth," because WOW.

Episode begins with Marinette hoping for something and it blows up in her face? A date at the cinema that ends on a sour note? Plot-centric couple trying to get Andre's ice cream and the female with a secret needing to leave in a hurry? Boyfriend character getting akumatized over their girlfriend's secret? Boyfriend assumes/suggests that the girlfriend's secret involves Aaaaaadrien - or his alter-ego in "Rocketear"'s case - and the episode hints as much to him even though he's completely wrong? Akuma's colors are blue and black? THE BRIDGE?

But, ahhh, little difference, here and there, y'know, like how Marinette was forced to break up with her boyfriend while Alya got to keep hers, and Nino got to have long talks with Alya while Luka got little to nothing with Marinette.

Because do note that Alya, while trying to convince Marinette and talk to Nino about not keeping secrets, at no point suggests that Marinette deserves to be happy and deserves to have a boyfriend and that Marinette should be allowed to tell Luka her secret so they can get back together, so you have Alya here selfishly prioritizing her relationship with Nino while making no comment about Marinette's relationship, essentially asking Marinette to allow her what Marinette herself didn't have the luxury of, and Alya knows this because Marinette told her. It is both incredibly insensitive of Alya and incredibly insulting of the show to make so many parallels between this episode and "Truth" just to have everything crash down for Marinette because she's Marinette while everything goes well for Alya and Nino because they're not Marinette.

We've talked before about the formulas that are literally baked into the show, and one of those is how Marinette makes a mistake in every episode and has to learn from it. What that mistake is in this episode, I don't know, but considering that she apologizes for Alya and Nino's problems, I guess the show blames her for what they themselves had taught her.

Point being, there's a clear karma system in place, but it only applies to Marinette, and forcing her to mess up in every episode means that she is literally not allowed to be with Luka because had she been able to clear things up between them, he would've eagerly accepted her and they could've been happy. It'd be too difficult for her to mess up when Luka doesn't put mountains of pressure and expectations on her like everyone else. Factor that in with how she can be herself around him and it leads to situation that are too difficult for her to screw up in because her mistakes - more often than not - center around Adrien or her role as guardian.

And because another rule in the show is to bring up Adrien so they don't "lose him for too long," she can't avoid bringing him up either. If he's not in the plot, he has to be mentioned, leaving Marinette in a lose-lose situation that she'll never be free from.

So, let me just get this straight then:

The guy who spied on his girlfriend instead of talking to her about his assumptions gets to keep his girlfriend, not because he realized it was wrong regardless of whether he was correct or not, but because the situation had been cleared up for him, yet the guy who actively resisted his akumatization, saddened by his girlfriend's secrets but wanting her to share them when she was ready, gets broken up with and tossed to the wayside because he's not a rich blond boy who got a miraculous because he happened to be within the twenty meters of space where Fu was searching for new holders?

Meanwhile, the girlfriend who has gone against the wishes and insistence of her best friend - guardian of the miraculouses, by the way, so she calls the shots, something that Alya herself said in "Optigami" BEFORE GOING ON TO DO HER OWN THING IN THE SAME EPISODE AND BEING REWARDED FOR IT - is allowed to go against the wishes and insistence of her best friend again for the sake of "all love, no secrets" with her boyfriend and so she can have the happy ending she wants, yet the girl who was chosen for a miraculous without her consent, forced to screw up and talk about a random boy who doesn't even go out of his way to spend time with her, treated like absolute trash by writers who find humor in her misery, and is the only one to receive overly harsh and long-lasting consequences for her actions while also covering up and forgiving the actions of others within the episode where they do it...

doesn't get her happy ending, and won't ever get her happy ending. That thing Shadow Moth said about love and secrets not going well together? Yeah, only goes as far as the writers want it to, because both Nino and Alya still have secrets, and some of the ones they did tell each other were forced by someone else and kept until that very moment. This idea that people in love have to tell each other everything and that it makes a relationship stronger makes me immensely uncomfortable, and that lesson is also in "Guiltrip."

People should be allowed their secrets, and obviously there are exceptions for things that are being hidden with malicious intent, but being essentially forced to share everything or risk not having a "full and complete" relationship is stifling and sounds like it'd only cause stress.

This episode sucks. It furthers and confirms everything I've already thought about the show, Nino's screentime continues to be dependent on Adrien, Alya, or both, there are pointless references that completely take me out of the experience, and the utter betrayal from Alya and supposed message of the episode just reminds me that Marinette is inevitably going to be stuck with a guy who didn't even DO anything in this episode and is going to let himself stew instead of asking for any sort of clarifications from someone he apparently trusts so much.

So the takeaway is that Marinette's life is awful, she'll be forced to apologize for rules that she didn't even come up with herself, her best friend will walk all over her for the sake of her relationship with a guy - not even for the sake, really, they were going to be fine, it was more for HER personal comfort if anything - and the guy who actually makes Marinette happy and could've known her identity instead BECAUSE HE AT LEAST DIDN'T HAVE A TRACK RECORD OF SPILLING HER SECRETS gets treated in the exact same way that she does; like nothing, just something to abuse unfairly.

What a waste of an episode.

[broken-clover]

Since you're doing prompts, once you rest a little how's about Baiken comforting Delilah after an anxiety attack or a nightmare or something like that? Just Baiken hugging her tightly and internally panicking because Oh God How Do You Parent In This Situation

Alright, so this took far goddamn longer than it had any right to, but I got it! I really appreciate your patience, it's not often I scrap and completely redo a whole fic, but I guess Baiken's just that powerful. I just hope it was worth the wait!

For safety's sake, content warning for some mild blood and panic attacks

-

"Baiken!”

This was not the first time Anji had woken her up like this- that was, way before the ass-crack of dawn and screaming loud enough to wake the devil- and, needless to say, she was just as enthusiastic about it this time than she had been the last time. Actually, moreso, because she knew there was a very good chance that this was going to be some petty shit that absolutely could have waited until morning.

She rolled back over in bed. Anji could handle this by himself. And in the small probability he couldn’t, he could wait until the sun was up.

“Baiken!” Anji shouted again, and went ignored again. “Augh, c’mon! I dunno what to do here!”

Pulling the sheets over her head didn’t muffle it much. Anji just kept shouting. Damn it, was she really going to cave just because he kept whining? Was she really that impatient?

“Baiken- !”

The samurai was up and out of bed within ten seconds, and despised each and every one of them. She slung the harness of her prosthetic over her shoulder, in case this was a job that needed something smashed up. Sonuvabitch better have been grateful, whatever broken glass or splinter or wild animal in the tent or whatever he’d gotten himself into must have been damn important to justify this bullshit.

“Fuck’s sake-” She growled under her breath, pushing away the tent divider that sectioned off her room. “Alright, Anji, you win. I’ll bite. What the hell are you screaming about?”

This time, Anji said nothing. Actually, he wasn’t even in his room. Where the hell had he gone?

Baiken groaned. “Go to all this trouble to get my ass out of bed, then you fuckin’ vanish? You’re asking me to kick your ass now.”

If he hadn’t come into her side of the tent, then he must have gone out the other side. The second flap was yanked back even harsher than the first, and it was a wonder she didn’t tear the fabric in two. For the most part, the only reason she didn’t was from something wet staining it, enough so that the material was slick and slipped out of her fingers with enough force.

She wiped her hand off on her sleeve. “Can’t even keep his own goddamn tent clean, grown-ass idiot still acts like a teenage-”

There was a dark smear on her clothes now. The stain on the tent was dark, as well. Though it was hard to see in the dark, when she sniffed her hand, there was a clear coppery stench.

Baiken was far past the point where the sight and scent of blood made her recoil and scream, but she didn’t disregard it. Shrill screaming, and bloodstains on the tent. Anji nowhere to be found. This wasn’t something where she could just turn around and go back to bed.

First things first, take stock. Was everyone else safe? Anyone else missing? Anji wouldn’t just pull something like this for a joke. Trickster or not, he knew enough not to go too far with it. If only because he knew she’d cut him in half for it after the fact. The blood had come from somewhere, and it was something serious enough that Anji would be shouting over it. She had that much to go on.

At the thought of danger, her first instinct was to check on Delilah. Sure, the kid had magic, but she was still a kid. Baiken didn’t want her at risk. Once she was sure Delilah was okay, she could worry about Anji.

On the way to her tent, she spotted another smear of blood on the grass. It was small, but it was enough to give her pause. That wasn’t…it wasn’t Delilah’s, was it? It had to be Anji’s? Wasn’t that the most rational answer?

She didn’t have much time to dwell on it. Somewhere nearby, in the direction of Delilah’s bed, she could make out a sound somewhere between a wet hiccup and a retch. It had Baiken running at full speed almost immediately. “Delilah?!”

“Wh- Baiken!” Not the kid’s voice, but Anji’s, and thank fuck for that. Only so many crises to be dealt with at once. But…well, crisis did feel like a good descriptor. As soon as she barged in, she saw her old friend as fine and normal as ever, but Delilah was an absolute mess, barely breathing through the shoulder-shaking sobs. Her face and the front of her clothes were doused in blood, which Anji was desperately trying to staunch with a fistful of gauze.

“What the hell happened to her?” Baiken practically snarled, ready to maul whoever was responsible. “Who did this?!”

“Baiken- Baiken, easy, hold it.” Anji threw up an arm to placate her, keeping the other to continue mopping up the blood. “It’s just a bloody nose- a really bad one, but she’s not hurt.”

The samurai was quiet for a moment. Upon second glance, it was easy to see that there weren’t any cuts or scrapes. But Delilah was still inconsolable.

As much as she didn’t want to come across as judgemental, it still bled through. “Jeez, kid, you’re this torn up about a bloody nose? It doesn’t last long, and the stains come out. No need to get worked up about it.”

Her words weren’t helpful. Anji shot her a frustrated look before Delilah fell into another round of wails. She tried to take a breath in but choked on it, coughing and wheezing until Anji gave her a few thumps on the back.

“Come on, talk to me.” He said. “What do you need?”

“Did she wake you up?” Asked Baiken.

“Came to my tent. Couldn’t get a word out, but between the crying and all the blood on her, wasn’t exactly hard to tell something was up, but…”

But he couldn’t figure out what it was. The rest of it was plain to see.

Why was he looking at her? Did he want her to apologize? What exactly did he…oh…oh no…

“You know I’m shit at this,” Baiken said, just loud enough for Anji to hear.

He nodded. “But you’re better at it than me.”

Well, that was just a bald-faced lie. If anyone was good at making people feel good, it was Anji. Granted, that was usually just to butter them up enough to shmooze out a favor, or to get someone’s confidence up before whipping out some dug-up secret juicy enough to extort them. Anji was practically the king of pretty words. What he thought she could possibly do better, she was at a total loss.

Still, she knew he’d just be persistent if she didn’t step in. Baiken found a spot on the other side of the bed and perched near the edge. Delilah immediately swiveled in her direction, looking up with big, wet eyes.

“S-s-s-”

“Worry about breathing before you try saying anything. D’ya feel dizzy? Don’t talk, just gimme a nod or a shake.”

Delilah nodded. “‘Kay, put your head a little lower, closer to your knees. Might feel a little tighter, but it’ll help the blood flow back up. Should help with the bleeding, too.”

Anji helped her down, pinching the gauze over her nose all the while. He sent Baiken an uncertain look, but she remained unshaken.

“Good. Keep doing that. Don’t forget about breathing. Nothing wrong with your chest, y’ didn’t break anything, it just feels tight ‘cause you’re panicking. Give it a minute.”

The tent fell quiet, aside from Delilah’s harsh breaths. Baiken let her attention go elsewhere for a moment, eye skimming over the messy bed and the little shelf nearby. From the latter, she swiped a long, thin piece of rope.

When the breathing started smoothing around the edges, Baiken slid in a little closer. “Surprised you’ve still got this thing. Guess it means you like it, huh? Here. This help?”

Without a word, or a nod, or any kind of acknowledgment, Delilah took the frayed rope and wound it around her fingers. She thumbed over the strands, tugging every so often in a pattern that only existed in her mind. Whatever it was, it worked well enough. Though she was audibly hoarse, she at least managed a sigh in between staccato breaths.

“There, see? You ain’t dying. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Baiken!” Anji said, with horror in his eyes.

Despite that, there was a little sniffly giggle in between them. Delilah wiped one red eye with the heel of her hand, while the other continued to tangle the rope. She sat back up, clearly shaken, but stable for now.

“Hey, you still bleeding?” Anji pulled the gauze away. “Ah, looks like it’s finally clotted. I’ll go grab something you can wipe your face with.”

It was obvious this was another ploy of his, but Baiken just sighed and went along with it. She watched Delilah pull her legs to where Anji had been sitting and curled up at Baiken’s side.

She didn’t say anything at first. She didn’t know what to say. Polite niceties, like Anji’s? Sure, her usual brusqueness had done the job in the past, for the most part, but Delilah had been angry then, not crying her eyes out. Completely different situations.

A thought struck her. “So what’s got you up this late? Bad dream?”

The girl at her side nodded. “Mmhm.”

“It the freaky kind, or the bad-memory kind?”

That earned her another little laugh. “The- the last one. If it was just something weird, I wouldn’t be crying. I’m not a little kid.” Her voice turned brittle again. “Do you still get nightmares? About old stuff?”

“Sometimes.”

“You don’t cry, though.”

“I mean, it ain’t real.”

Delilah paused in thought, winding the rope so tightly around her thumb that it started turning red. “It still feels real.”

“Huh. That bad.” Something was amiss here, even beyond the oddity of the evening, but Baiken wasn’t sure what. “Y’know, I’ve never seen a nightmare bad enough that it gave someone a nosebleed.”

She felt Delilah flinch, but didn’t comment on it. She didn’t even look down.

“It…” The girl swallowed. “It wasn’t all that bad.”

“Y’ can’t say that after waking me up like this. C’mon, if it ain’t that, then what is it?”

More silence. “Mattie always made the nightmares go away…” She hiccuped. “He had a song…I don’t remember it. He’d sing it when I had nightmares. I woke up, and when I realized he wasn’t coming, I tried to sing it to myself to calm down, and- and I couldn’t remember how any of the words went, and when I went to go out and get more air outside I hit my head on the pole- ”

“Okay, okay, slow down, don’t set yourself off again.” This was exactly the sort of thing Baiken knew she wasn’t good at, and all she could think to do was let her hand rest on Delilah’s shoulder and try not to let her lack of confidence show.

“Do you…did you have any siblings?”

“Nah. I was more than enough trouble on my own.”

“For your parents, you mean? What were their names?”

For a moment, Baiken debated whether or not to answer. And when she decided, the memories came up weathered and rusty, like an old ship at the bottom of the sea.

“Ryuko and Kimura.”

Something about the way Delilah’s lower lip curled felt like an attack before she could even say anything. “That took you a while. Did you forget?”

This was veering into a territory that Baiken was very much not happy to be in. She tried to rein in the way her mind was urging her to lash out in response. “Some days are fuzzier.”

Though her face didn’t wrench up and her eyes didn’t start to run again, something about Delilah’s face was devastated by that.

“What about it?”

“You and him moved on.” Baiken assumed ‘him’ was Anji. “And the two of us were supposed to move on.”

She wasn’t quite following Delilah’s train of thought. “Yeah. And?”

The girl shook her head. “You moved on. You forgot. Is that how it gets better?”

Baiken couldn’t think of anything else than to shrug. “Maybe.”

“Then I’m a lost cause.”

“...Alright, wherever the fuck you think you’re going with this, I’m not letting it get any further, get it?” And just like that, it set something off. Familiar anger, maybe not with Delilah herself but with whatever sentiment this was supposed to be. How strange it was, when she thought about it, how little ago would she have just heard something like that and not given a shit? She wasn’t a person made for philosophical debates, how the hell had she ended up here, in a tent comforting a child over her personal problems?

There was no anger in Delilah’s eyes, not even any sadness. Just resignation. “Mattie was my whole world. I can’t forget him. I can’t be like you. I can’t do what I promised you.”

The tightly-wound rope had been on so long that it was turning the girl’s fingers purple and cold. Baiken reached over and untangled it.

“Okay, so what did that promise have anything to do with any of this?”

There was a little high-pitched sound, almost a question, but not a word.

“It was vengeance.” Replied Baiken. “Just vengeance. That’s it. All there was to it.”

“But…” Despite the interjection, Delilah made it obvious she had no real refutation.

“You’re not planning on changing your mind and blowing someone’s head off, right?”

“I-I- no, but-”

“But nothing, then. Look,” the samurai moved her hand to rub at her temples. “I’m not good at this shit. So I’m just gonna hope I can get this across without being here all night. I don’t want you to be like me. I don’t want anyone to be like me, but especially not you. However I feel about my home, or my family, or whatever- that has nothing to you. You can hold onto whatever you gotta keep.”

Delilah shifted in place. “So, like a crutch. You want me to use it like a crutch, until I can get over it.”

“Fuck, kid, no, that ain’t it at all. It’s…” Baiken tried to ward off the headache that was brewing, from a combination of frustration and sleep deprivation. “Listen. Don’t tell Anji I said this, but y’know why he’s so into fans? The whole dancing shtick he just won’t ever fucking drop? It reminds him of home. He collects the damn things- most of ‘em are just normal fans, he’s not suicidally overconfident enough to steal every magic fan he could get his paws on, but all of ‘em are Japanese crafts. Most of ‘em worth a damn fortune, he could sell the things and live off of that forever, but that’s how he copes. Dancing around and collecting fucking fans. Keeping mementos of a place that’s a fucking hole in the ocean now. Been at it a hundred years, you think he’s gonna get over it anytime soon?”

She only realized in hindsight how intense her words had come out. But Delilah wasn’t teary-eyed again- if anything, she was more at ease than she had been the whole time before.

Baiken put her hand back on her shoulder. “Everyone gets by somehow. If it’s collecting fans, fine. If it’s holding onto the good memories of your brother, fine. Life’s a fucking shitshow, so you keep what you need to put up with it. As long as you’re not blowing up heads, you don’t gotta justify anything. Got it?”

It took a few seconds, but she finally got a quiet little ‘okay’ murmured into her ribs. While she wasn’t one for hugs, even ignoring the one arm, Baiken gave her the closest thing she was willing, a little squeeze with her arm still around Delilah.

Anji, conveniently- too conveniently, as always- just so happened to come bustling back in with a wet rag.

“Goodness, that took way too long! So sorry for the wait, Delilah, you must be going crazy by now.” He knelt down and started dabbing at the line of her jaw, still spotted with rusty flakes. “Here, I’ll get it. Can you turn your head a little? I know this has gotta be driving you up the wall.”

“...Actually, I forgot about it.” When she moved to sit up, something about the girl’s posture was like a ragdoll, unable to properly support itself without drooping over. “There’s not much, is there? I wanna go to sleep…”

“Wh- all that effort spent looking around, and for what!” Anji said, in a voice that was so cartoonishly overwrought that it almost looped back into seriousness. “Well, if you’re so insistent, then perhaps I should just go back to bed, myself!”

“If it means you’ll shut your goddamn trap, then great.” Baiken gave Delilah’s hair a fatherly ruffle and Anji’s a warning smack. “Think you’ll be okay, kid? Need me to stick around?”

Delilah shook her head sluggishly. “Nnnh. Thanks, big sis. Sorry.”

“Don’t.” She replied with an offhand shrug. “Guess it’s good to keep me on my toes. Vengeance or not, I sure as fuck don’t want to get rusty.”

Anji eyed her oddly. “Rusty? Ah, and every time I think you’ve started to soften, Baiken…”

“Listen, Anji, there’s being ‘soft,’ and then there’s being fucking domestic.”

“Well, for as much as you say that,” he paused, just long enough to be annoying, “you seem quite the natural.”

On any other day, she would have decked him so hard that his nose would have fused to the back of his skull, but for now, she just clocked him over the head again. “Don’t push it, Anji.”

[bluecloudious]

Kinda angst I guess (but it has Zanaz so take that with a grain of salt)

Trying out writing a story this time.

I mean, yeah, I wrote for the comics, but not long dialog.

So yea, as per both the funni boys mature content warning. (There's no canoodling, there is talk of it tho.)

Also there's quite a bit of text (8 pages worth on Word)

So ye:

“Get up, I have some juicy gossip for you.”

...What?

I open my eyes and the world around me is blinding. It’s so bright that it takes a second to adjust to it. There’s nothing around me other than vast white and empty space.

This definitely isn’t Nevada anymore. (Unless Hank managed to ruin everything even further somehow.)

“Get up now, I know you heard me.”

I get up and look around. Who the hell is talking? There’s literally nothing but white for miles.

“I’m in your head, pretty boy.”

Uh, that…

“I’m holding my eyes closed, don’t worry. I regret ever having them open in here, in fact.”

Welp, that answers that. Now for the other question.

“Who I am is not important. What info I have, may be of interest, though.”

Alright?

“There’s a deal attached to this knowledge, Zanaz. Hear me out before you start fidgeting.”

I’ll sure try.

“You know Kits, right?”

No duh, he’s my best friend.

“Excellent. He’s going to die soon.”

…

What?! Wha, when, how, uh--

“Calm down, jitterbug. There’s nothing you can do to stop his fate, so don’t try. If he doesn’t die one way, another thing will go wrong. Understand?”

I-- NO! What the fuck?! Are you gonna kill him?!

“No, not me. I’m just sharing the news.”

Yeah, right, sure. Fucking… When then?

“Soon.”

How soon? In a month, week or a few days?

“Hm… A month then, give or take.”

...Fuck… How?

“Depends on what leads up to it.”

So, there are a lot of different ways it can happen, right?

“Indeed there are.”

...Do I die with him?

“No.”

NO?! In none of the different variations, I don’t die by his side?

“Oh, you can be by his side, of course. But death isn’t after you.”

What if I try to block a bullet, but it goes through both of us.

“Oddly specific. You’ll still survive.”

What if I block it with my head?!

“Brain damage, possible vegetable state. Will still survive though.”

What if Hank slices us with one of his multiple katanas?!

“People have lived through being sliced in half before.”

WHAT.

“This world has zombie clowns with god like powers and the AAHW is lead by a man consisting of black fire.”

...Ugh, fair enough. So… Wait those are all possible deaths for him?

“If you do everything in your power for it to happen, then yes.”

I… I can kill him before his time?

“Of course! You have free will, don’t you? It’s more of a question if you want to.”

Of course I fucking don’t! I care about him!

“I saw. You daydream about him an uncomfortable amount.”

He’s the main person I’m around, give me a break!

“Have you ever considered not being horny?”

Until I’m castrated, there’ll be nothing of the sorts.

“You’re not even fertile! None of the clones are!”

You think I’m tryna get anyone pregnant at this sausage fest? Besides, that has not stopped me before.

“I refuse to believe that any of those scenes I saw play out in your head happened for real.”

You’d be surprised then.

“WHICH?!?”

Those are for me to treasure.

“...You’re pulling my leg.”

Believe what you want.

“Augh, never mind, TMI. Back onto the topic at hand.”

Oh, yeah, right. Kit… Dying…

Could you for real not give me a date?

“If it depends on the circumstances beforehand, then there’s no possible way to tell which one belongs to this timeline.”

And that means…?

“I don’t know how this Kits dies.”

Can I at least warn him?

“Well, there’s where the other side of the deal comes in. If you tell him, then the effect kicks in immediately.”

What effect? Death?

“Precisely.”

...Ah. Wait, so if I don’t tell him, he dies in a month but if I do, he dies immediately? Of what?

“Stroke, heart attack or brain aneurysm. Chosen at random. Oh, also sneak assassination. That’s also a valid option.”

...This feels set up.

“Mh?”

This feels like either you or whoever sent you here set this up so I’d suffer. You enjoy the pain of others, don’t you?

“I’m only the messen--”

Yeah, yeah, Messenger Bullshit. Then whoever decided this is probably a reality tv producer, who is jacking off to someone pushing in the soft part of a baby’s skull as we speak. You encourage such behaviour by working with them, ya know.

“...Do you think you sound smart?”

I know for a fact I’m not, so no. I’m pretty sure I’m on the money with this one though.

“If I wasn’t here then Kits’ death would come as a surprise to you though!”

I’d prefer that, actually! Now I have to deal with knowing that he… He… Won’t be here anymore soon.

“Well, knowing how overwhelmingly perverted you are, wouldn’t you wanna grab this opportunity?”

...What?

“Shoot your shot, ask him out. Not like you could do it with a corpse… …Right…?”

I may be horny, but I’m not messed up.

“Had to make sure.”

Ugh, you’re just making fun of me, aren’t you?

“Which instance are you referring to?”

Kit would never date me.

“And why exactly do you think that?”

He has standards?

“You’re a decently handsome fellow. You also get along with him just fine.”

That… That’s not a determinant of shit like that. There’s way better out there for him.

“He won’t meet em then. Only a month to live, remember?”

I… It’s not worth it.

“What isn’t?”

I know he’ll say no, there’s no point in trying.

“How do you know for sure until you actually ask?”

Cause it’s obvious! He’s actually got a brain in his noggin and he knows me way too well! He’d be fucking disgusted, man! We’re just friends and that’s that.

“Do you not want to then?”

...Why do you assume I do? How do you know that those aren’t just blissful fantasies like the rest of them?

“He’s the only one that you dream of in a non-perverted way. I see no other person in this graphic landscape that you want to hold hands with. (Also, I am closing my eyes again now, Jebus Christoff.)”

...Ffffuck.

“Well, did hit the nail on the head?”

Y-You’re stupid and gay!

“I’m rubber, you’re glue.”

That doesn’t affect me, I’m already openly gay and stupid!

“I guess we’re both such then.”

Dammit.

“So, you gonna give him a month to remember or not?”

…Eh?

“Come on, how much romance could a member of the A.A.H.W. really experience throughout their lifetime? If you’d make this month worth his and your own time, perhaps it would be less painful to see him go? At least he died happy?”

THAT WOULD BE EXTRA PAINFUL FOR ME, THOUGH!

“Oop, Zanaz selfish, you heard it here first, folks.”

That’s not what I meant. I’d already be upset over losing my best friend, imagine how fucking devastating losing a sweetheart would be.

“…I dunno, still sounds selfish to me. Does his happiness not mean anything to you?”

Who says he’d be happy with me?

“I know you want to make him happy, at least. You dream about his smile.”

STOP FUCKING LOOKING THOUGH MY THOUGHTS!!

“I’m not looking anymore, I just memorized the ones I already saw. (I wish I couldn’t.)”

I- You- Fucking-- UggHHH! It’s not worth it!

“What exactly do you imagine will happen if you tell him how you feel, huh? World combusts?”

I already told you, he already knows way too much about me! He’d be fucking grossed out and we’ll… We’ll stop being friends.

He’d quicken his pace whenever we’d have to pass each other in one of the halls. He’d desperately keep his glance away from me. He’d… I’d stop being the main person he talks and comes to company for a-and I can’t fucking have that, man!

I-I wouldn’t be able to handle it. He means too much to me.

“…I had no idea you were this insecure.”

FUCK OFF! It’s a bitter reality that I’ve come to accept!

“You haven’t even given it a shot!”

You don’t need to get crushed by a piano to know you’d die on impact!

“Those two things don’t correlate even remotely!”

It’s a metaphor!

“I know that, I’m saying that Kits has a thing for you too!”

…He what?

“He has major league crush on you! The things you say when play-flirting excite him! He’s gotten off to the thought of you touching him up! The works! (Why did I word it like that?)”

Whuh-- How the fuck do you know this??

“While you were monologuing, I visited his subconscious and confirmed it for myself.”

You can do that??

“You don’t even know my name.”

...Fair nuff. So, wait, he’s actually gotten off thinking about me?

“I don’t even need to open my eyes to already know you’re imagining it. Short answer, yes. He’s into you, Zanaz.”

Augh, I dunno what to do with this info. It’s kinda... Overwhelming in a way.

Actually, wait, how do I know you haven’t been lying to me this whole time?

“I’m an incorporeal voice in your head that’s having a back and forth with you in a white void.”

Yeah, and?

“…I’m supernatural?”

Yeah, and?

“Come on! I just know, okay?!”

Sounds fake, not gonna lie.

“The part where I knew that Kits was gonna die was convincing, but the moment I mention that he might have a thing for you, you question the validity of my claims thus far??”

One sounds way more far-fetched than the other, you gotta admit.

“NO IT DOESN’T?!?!”

For you maybe! I’ve known him since I’ve been out the cloning tube! We became agents together! I think I’d know what kinda stuff is off the table for him, buddy.

“Well, not only are you wrong, you’re in denial.”

I am not!

“Then try it! Just attempt asking him out! In the very least, you’ll remain friends after. I promise you. Cross my heart and all that jazz.”

…

…You’re absolutely positive? You are also the person that told me he’d die in a month’s time.

“A hundred percent positive. I have never been more sure of anything in my life.”

You have a life?

“Unfortunately. So, you’ll do it?”

Why’re you so adamant about me fucking Kits?

“Affgdgfdgfg, it’s not about you fucking him, it’s you making his last living month worthwhile!”

Okay, so, why do you want me to do that?

“…Do you not??”

I mean, I guess that sounds worth my time. But you didn’t answer my question.

“Sorry for assuming that you want the person you’re madly in love with to be happy, I guess??”

Apology accepted. Now, how do I get outta here?

“Ugh, just wake up.”

Whu--

And I’m sitting up in my own mat, back at the facility. The clock shows that it’s early morning.

What the fuck do I make of what I just saw? Or heard, for that matter? It clearly wasn’t a normal dream, I never remember those. Plus the topic tends to blur together usually.

I gotta tell-- Wait, I can’t do that, fuck.

…

It’s way to early for shit like this, man!!

Augh…

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - “An Enchanted Gift” (Rated NC17)

Summary: Anathema gives Aziraphale and Crowley a special gift - a homemade bottle of a holiday drink with some very peculiar side effects. (2299 words)

Notes: Written for the wonderful @theantichristmaszine  :) Warning for sexual content.

Read on AO3.

Crowley’s flat is positively a picture, fit for printing on a Christmas card.

Fire roaring on the hearth.

Garland and tinsel draped over anything that doesn’t move.

Fairy lights brightening the dark corners, wound around the rubber tree and the Chinese Evergreen, weeding through the leaves of the dieffenbachia.

A host of red velvet, gold taffeta, and white satin ribbon hanging from the ceiling till no white marble can be seen.

And at the center of it all, a tree - an honest-to-Satan floor-to-ceiling pine that Crowley had tromped into the forest and tore out of the ground himself with his own two hands. An ax would have been simpler. Heck, he could have snapped the thing back to his flat, trimmed and mounted, ready for decorating. But his method seemed so much more festive considering he’d been bellowing holiday carols the entire time.

He let angel take the lead decorating. Aziraphale had a merry time covering the thing in frosted globes, glass candy canes (since the real ones didn’t last long enough to hang), gingerbread men (only slightly nibbled), reindeer, clove oranges, crocheted white-lace snowflakes, and other ornaments of the like, purchased from artisans all around London.  

Crowley had gone so far as to include a manger scene for the benefit of his angel-in-residence. However, instead of hanging the Archangel Gabriel using the provided hook, he hung him over the birthplace of the Lord by a noose. Aziraphale giggled when he saw it but recommended fixing it - to ward off bad karma or something along those lines. Not wanting to sully his spirits listening to a lecture about tempting fate (which is all Crowley does), Crowley remedied it.

He replaced Gabriel with a vintage Troll doll key chain Pepper accidentally forgot at Aziraphale’s bookshop.

“There! Top notch replacement, if I do say so meself! Looks just like ‘im!” Crowley declared, gesturing to the absurd trinket with its vibrant purple hair.

“And which part, might I ask, looks just like him?” Aziraphale had asked.

“The head! It’s huge!”

Demons aren’t much for celebrating. But this year, with everything Crowley had to be grateful for, he honestly couldn’t help himself. At its root, Christmas is about love.

Family.

Birth.

A chance to shed the skin of past sins and start anew.

This year, Crowley couldn’t see letting Christmas pass unacknowledged.

“You know, I may not be a connoisseur of holiday shindigs,” Crowley says, leaning back on the floor and gazing up at the spectacle that is their cheerfully burdened tree, “but I would say tonight has come pretty close to perfect. Wouldn’t you?” He rolls onto his hip, beaming at Aziraphale seated not too far from him, a loopy grin nudging his mouth up at the corners.

“Indeed.” Aziraphale lifts his bottle of Burgundy, prepared to propose a toast. It comes up off the floor far too quickly, an indicator the thing has been drained dry.

“Looks like we finished that one.” Crowley looks left and right in search of another, but doesn’t see one. “Augh! Don’t tell me we went through them all! I’m sure I had another three at least!”

“Don’t fret, my dear,” Aziraphale says. “I may have just the thing.” He crawls over to the tree on hands and knees and rummages underneath. A second later he crawls back out, accompanied by a rustic-looking green glass bottle and a triumphant little, ‘A-ha!’ “This comes courtesy of dear, sweet Anathema.” He presents the bottle to his demon for approval. “She said she made it with love.”

“Really?” Crowley snorts while Aziraphale uncorks the bottle. “And what ingredient is that then? Wolfsbane? Mandrake root?”

“Honey, I think.” Aziraphale gives the mouth of the bottle a sniff. “Maybe blackberries?”

“The important question is - is it alcohol?”

Aziraphale brings the bottle to his lips and knocks back a gulp, coughing at the finish. “That it is.”

“Give it here then. I’d like to partake of some love, too.” Crowley indulges, tilting his head back and taking a huge swig. He smacks his tongue, then licks his lips, shivering when a wave of heat enters his bloodstream and works its way down his spine. “Wow. That’s tasty.”

“Isn’t it? If being a witch doesn’t work out for her, she should definitely take up a career distilling.”

“Love, you say?” Crowley peers into the bottle, pondering the ingredients as the drink settles onto his taste buds. “Do you think that’s something she orders by the pound, or gathers under the full moon?”

“To be honest, I have no idea---oof!” Aziraphale sways, planting a hand flat on the floor and locking his elbow to keep from toppling over.

“You alright, angel?” Crowley snickers. “Having a bit of trouble holding your drink?” His forehead wrinkles with concern when Aziraphale doesn’t recover right away. “That’s not normally like you---”

Crowley’s teasing cuts off when Aziraphale’s mouth crashes into his - hot, demanding, tasting of mulling spices, apples, sour plum, and brandy. It takes Crowley a moment to realize Aziraphale is kissing him.

Then another for him to start kissing back.

This isn’t just any kiss. It’s the kiss he’s been longing for. The kiss he’d feel on his lips every time Aziraphale looked his way and smiled. It’s the kiss he thought about the century he slept. And even though there have been many kisses between them, Crowley ranks this as the first.

Because it’s the kiss of dreams.

Aziraphale inhales sharply and backs away. “Oh! Oh, I’m sorry, my dear! I don’t know what came over me!”

Crowley looks him over curiously, waiting for an explanation, but Aziraphale doesn’t seem to have one. Aziraphale loves kissing, but he doesn’t go about it this way - doesn’t rush in, doesn’t take what he hasn’t asked for. “Turn about’s fair play, I’d wager.”

“What do you …?”

Without another word, Crowley sneaks a hand behind Aziraphale’s head and kisses him back.

Another kiss follows. Then another. With each one, the room becomes inhospitable - too warm, too stuffy, too difficult to stay in wearing all their blasted clothes! Aziraphale tries to relieve the pressure at his neck, but he can’t seem to manage his buttons, so Crowley helps him undo those. Likewise Crowley’s zipper becomes uncooperative, so Aziraphale tasks himself with unzipping it. Article by article they tear through until the two become too frustrated to care about the inevitable paperwork and snap off the rest.

Crowley kneels behind his angel, completely naked, kissing every spot he can get his lips on. And God, how it tingles! No. How it burns - each touch of his lips to Aziraphale’s flesh sending surges of razor sharp and magma hot straight from Crowley’s mouth to his groin.

And he wants more.

He wants it everywhere.

He wants it scalding his throat, searing his lungs, consuming him from the inside out. Let it dissolve him into ashes that blow away on the wind, let him die in an orgasm of violence and fire and angelic light.

As long as it comes with Aziraphale.

What a way to go.

“I have to have you, angel,” he moans. “Now. Right now.”

“Are you … are you sure? We’ve always said that we wouldn’t allow alcohol to make us amorous.”

“I don’t feel drunk. Do you?”

Aziraphale focuses inward, taking stock of his corporation. “No,” he says, surprised considering the bottles of wine they’d polished off before they started in on Anathema’s gift. “I don’t. Not at all.” Aziraphale locates an empty bottle and concentrates, tries to push the alcohol of the night from his system, but nothing appears. Not a single drop. “Far from it, it would seem.”

“That’s right. We’re not drunk. We’re completely in our right minds.”

“I wouldn’t say …”

“I want this, angel!” Crowley pleads with a sense of urgency. “Don’t you?”

“Yes, I do. More than ever,” Aziraphale admits.

“What do you want me to do?” Crowley whispers, voice husky with a lust he has inspired in others but has never once felt himself. “Tell me.”

“Make love to me?”

“How?”

Aziraphale peeks over his shoulder, grinning at his demon chomping at the bit. “You seem to be in the perfect position. I suggest you start there.”

Aziraphale expects Crowley to mock his snark, but he doesn’t, diving immediately back into the task of kissing across Aziraphale’s shoulders, lingering over the joint where his wings would connect if he let them out. Crowley swirls over it with his tongue, painting overlapping circles, and Aziraphale sees stars. They’ve made love in this position before, and Crowley has kissed every inch of his back, but he’s never spent so much time on this particular area.

The decadence of this sensation should be criminal.

Aziraphale feels Crowley’s hands on his body everywhere at once - massaging his muscles, fondling his cock, scissoring him open. Could Crowley be using magic to pleasure him? That’s not something they’ve ever done before due to the implications of Hell finding out. But seeing as Hell is no longer a concern, that puts every card at their disposal.

And thank God because this they need to do again!

“Aziraphale,” Crowley utters as he enters him, his angel’s name like sugar in his bitter mouth, and fuck!

There it is.

When he enters him completely.

The fire.

Inside his angel.

And Crowley has become its fuel.

“Oh, Crowley …” Aziraphale shifts his weight onto his palms and leans forward, raising his rear in the air. “Oh, yes. Just like that, my dear …”

“Like this, angel?” Crowley pulls back, then thrusts hard - harder than he would normally, sending Aziraphale swiftly to the verge. With Aziraphale’s grunts of ecstasy mirroring the rhythm of Crowley’s hips, Crowley knows that regardless of anything, this he cannot stop.

It would be unforgivable.

“Yes!” Aziraphale whimpers, bracing against the marble floor with knuckles white. “Yes! Crowley, yes!”

“Yes …” Crowley echoes beneath his breath, a lightness settling inside his mind, siphoning his ability to think. He’s done too much thinking already. Now is not the time for thinking. Now is the time for serving. The time for feeling. And what he feels is soft beneath his hands, tight around his cock, a quest for satisfaction, for completion, wrapped in a braided rope of love, love, and more love. So much love it fills his flat from corner to ceiling, leaves its mark on the walls and on the doors.

And on the marble beneath them when Aziraphale, spiraling out of control, comes unannounced on Crowley’s living room floor.

“Oh,” he squeaks with embarrassment though he knows Crowley would say he shouldn’t be. “I apologize, my love, but I seem to have sullied your floor.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Crowley says, snapping his fingers and cleaning the mess as he shudders through his own orgasm, which had snuck up inside him and granted him release less like an accomplishment and more like a reward for what he had done for his angel.

“Well,” Aziraphale manages even though he’s breathless, which isn’t a bother for him. “That was … interesting.”

“Just interesting?”

Aziraphale blushes. “More than interesting. But I would hate to think that was all because of the drink.”

“I wouldn’t say it was. I think the brew just sort of lowered out inhibitions. Enhanced the experience.”

“Do you think that was meant to happen? I find it difficult to believe that Anathema of all people gave us some sort of love potion as a Christmas present.”

“Not sure. Could be a side-effect of being witch made. Probably affects us more because we’re occult.”

Aziraphale rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue Crowley’s word usage. “Or … what if it’s something worse?”

“Worse?” Crowley arches an eyebrow. “What worse?”

“What if it did what it was meant to, but it was supposed to be a present for her young gentleman?”

“Ugh! Aziraphale! Don’t!” Crowley groans, wrapping his arms around his angel and holding him tight. “You’re going to put me off!”

“Sorry,” Aziraphale chuckles, hugging Crowley’s arms about his waist. Locked in the cozy cocoon of Crowley’s embrace, a thought pricks Aziraphale’s brain.

There is a secret third possibility.

A week or two ago, Aziraphale went to Tracy Shadwell’s place for tea and rum cake. While he was there, he’d confided in both Tracy and Anathema that as much as he loved his sex life with his husband, physical intimacy had become somewhat of a chore. Not because he didn’t love it, which he did, but because Crowley seemed stuck on every love making session between them being more romantic than the last. First came the champagne, then the candlelight (so much candlelight …), massages with complicated names, and, as of late, dramatic musical choices. It’s nice, the care Crowley puts into being his lover, but it also puts a tremendous amount of pressure on Aziraphale to keep up appearances.

Makes the whole ordeal feel like a performance.

Some nights, by the time they get to the good stuff, Aziraphale is ready to hit the hay. Seeing as he despises sleep, that’s awfully telling.

Aziraphale has come to the conclusion that, often times, he’s just … how did the youths say it … down to fuck.

So this drink may have done exactly what it was meant to, and he and Crowley may have rightfully been its intended targets.

But Aziraphale isn’t about to tell Crowley that.

“What should we do now? Should we lock it away or …?”

“Seems to me there’s only one thing we can do …” Crowley looks the bottle over, gauging the level of the liquid still inside. He grins, the firelight flickering in his eyes, making him look more wicked than Aziraphale has seen him in decades.

And he takes a hefty swallow.

[delimeful]

cut clean from the dream (2/3)

warnings: fear, treating a person like an animal, ignoring someone, capture

Part Two

A loud, shrill alarm broke through Logan’s concentration, nearly causing him to topple off the book he was using as a perch. 

A low moan came from the bed, and, seeing that he wasn’t likely to get more reading done until the situation was sorted, he flapped his wings once and then took flight. 

He zipped past where Virgil was little more than a bump under his weighted blankets and landed on the snooze button, wincing at the volume of the clock in the second before it cut out. 

“Virgil. Wake up.” He instructed, eliciting another dramatic groan. 

“Why? Every day is a nightmare.” The witch mumbled from under the covers. 

“Because it will be more of a nightmare if you miss class with your least favorite professor again.” Logan said, unfazed. 

There was shuffling, and Logan took a step back as the covers were pushed back, revealing Virgil’s exhausted visage. “I hate it when you’re right.” 

“You hate everything in the mornings.” Logan retorted, taking to the air once more. “Go get some coffee. Black, like your soul.” 

“You strike a hard but fair bargain.” Virgil mock saluted him and stumbled out of bed, shuffling off to go imbibe ungodly amounts of caffeine. Logan shook his head, lips twitching. 

It was odd, how he was chatting idly with a human witch as though his species hadn’t been avoiding them for ages on fear of death. Virgil made it almost easy, giving Logan his space and being a patient, if sometimes frustratingly cryptic teacher. They made good roommates, even if Logan didn’t really pay rent. 

He made it through another page of his book before Virgil stormed back into the room, a large, dark stain dampening his pajama shirt. Logan raised an eyebrow. Speaking of roommates…

“Another prank?” He asked, propping his elbows up on the book as Virgil changed. 

“Yes.” The witch growled, tossing the damp shirt in the direction of his laundry basket. “Idiot continues to believe that I’m actively targeting him, rather than his stupid nicknames making my temper flare, and thus, magic happen.” 

“Have you told him that you aren’t intentionally magicking his hair into knots and his showers freezing cold?” Logan asked. 

“... No.” Virgil muttered, pulling his student robes over his shoulders. “And I don’t plan to! I’m not going to lose to a half-brained drama queen like him either way. I’ll just be more vigilant next time.” 

“Good luck, then.” Logan took a moment to decipher the clock’s numerals. “You’re almost late.” 

“Augh shit, bye!” Virgil said, snatching his bag and darting out the door. 

Logan spent the next few hours immersed in the text, only pausing when his stomach gave a particularly loud rumble. He sighed, standing and stretching out his stiff limbs. Virgil kept a stash of nonperishables in his room, but Logan had had his fill of processed garbage while trapped, and he much preferred fresh produce anyhow. 

Luckily, there was a bowl of fruit set on the kitchen counter, and according to the clock, there was still hours yet before any humans got home. Not that he’d have to worry about Virgil, but he preferred to eat separate from the human regardless. It was unsettling to watch someone take a you-sized bite out of something, as he figured out early on for the sake of his appetite. 

He fluttered over to the door, pressing his hand against the sigil inked into the wood. It responded to his magical signature, the lock clicking and the door popping open. Virgil may have been an unorthodox witch, but his capacity for substituting and reworking magic for different, innovative purposes was truly astounding. It was how he’d managed to create a substitute ingredient for fairy wings that had saved his grade after sparing Logan. 

He slipped through the partially open door, gliding down the hall until it opened up into the kitchen area. From there, it was simple to touch down on the edge of the fruit bowl and begin tearing chunks out of the nearest pear. He sat down against an orange and began to eat, grimacing slightly at the stickiness of the fruit juices. He’d have to rinse himself off after this. 

That was as far as he got before the sound of a door being flung open made him freeze. 

A jaunty whistle split the air, and the door slammed closed, propelling Logan into action. He quickly slid further into the bowl, crouching against an orange and tucking his wings down so as not to be seen. The footsteps in the hall were loud, proving once again that this wasn’t Virgil, who moved with only a slight rustling. 

That left the other resident of the flat. Roman. 

Logan took a deep breath. Not all was lost. He simply had to wait until the other human passed by, and he could escape back to the safety of Virgil’s room. 

He watched carefully as the other relative giant appeared. It was no surprise that Virgil didn’t get along with him, going by appearances alone. He was dressed in bright colors, a white and red jacket prime among them, and he held himself with the sort of prideful confidence that Virgil sorely lacked. 

Roman continued to whistle as he strolled past, and Logan counted the steps until he was out of sight. Three… two… one… 

Roman stopped short at the edge of the kitchen, whistle cutting off sharply, and Logan barely held back a groan, body tense. The human tilted his head slightly, and then sniffed the air a couple of times.  

Spurred on by a sudden sense of foreboding, Logan decided that Roman’s current distance would have to be good enough, and launched himself out of the bowl, wings buzzing as he darted away. 

Not fast enough. 

“Gotcha!” His vision went dark as a pair of hands clapped over him like they were catching a firefly, and he cried out as his wings were pinched between skin. 

The hands cracked open enough for a bright red eye to peer in, and Logan could feel his heart racing with both fear and fury. He’d had enough of being manhandled for a lifetime. “Let me go.” He said, severely.  

The face withdrew slightly in surprise, brows furrowing. “You’re the one who came into my kitchen, Tinkerbell. How did a fairy…” He paused, looking up for a second. “Oh.” 

Logan frowned. He didn’t like that tone of realization. 

“Did you get yourself caught by a witch, Merryweather? You must be a clever one to have escaped.” Roman opened his hands up and shifted his hands to the side, making Logan tumble into one palm. He stumbled, unbalanced enough by the sudden movement that he couldn’t dodge the grasping fingers that grabbed him by the base of the wings, keeping him stationary. 

He glowered. “This is not letting me go.” 

“Don’t worry, little fairy.” Roman said, barely seeming to hear Logan’s words. “I won’t turn you in, I happen to be at odds with the witch myself. Plus, you’re much too cute to leave at the mercy of a villain like that!” 

“Virgil is not a villain.” Logan gritted out, digging his fingers into the flesh of Roman’s palm. 

Roman frowned at him, and then shifted his pinching grip to his leg, yanking him into the air to dangle upside down. He yelped, his wings fluttering ineffectually as he held onto his glasses. 

“Wow, they weren’t kidding when they said fairies just mimicked, huh? You’re like a smaller, more huffy version of a parrot.” Roman poked at Logan’s torso, ignoring the swipe Logan aimed at him. “Emo Nightmare has gotten even more depressing if he’s making potions ingredients tell him he’s not evil.” 

Roman seemed a bit perturbed by the thought, before shrugging. “Well, don’t worry, you’ll be safe with me. I don’t bite.” He grinned.

“I find that hard to believe.” Logan spat, the blood beginning to rush to his head. “Let go of me, I have no desire to go anywhere with you!” 

His words were ignored completely this time, Roman only answering with a vague hum before carrying Logan to his room. It was lit brightly by the afternoon sun, and Logan found himself missing the dark and spooky surroundings that made up Virgil’s room more and more.

“What are you even doing home this early?” Logan said, kicking aimlessly at the fingers pinched around his ankle. Roman looked surprised by the question.

“Due to a janitorial error, the performance space that my company usually practices in was unusable, so rehearsal was cancelled.” Logan was lifted to meet Roman’s curious gaze. “Do you know my schedule, Tink?” 

“It’s Logan.” He bit out, wings flapping once for emphasis. 

“Oh, I’m Roman!” He responded cheerily, finally releasing Logan’s leg. 

He dropped in freefall for a few seconds, before his wings caught on the air and he spiraled out of reach, dizzy. “Nice to meet you,” He said, sarcasm lacing his tone, “now will you please leave me alone?”

“Aw, you sound just like Doctor Gloom. Nah, let’s get you acquainted with something less dark and spooky.” Roman fiddled with the small television in the corner of his room until it began playing animated pictures. He threw himself onto his bed with aplomb. “C’mon, come watch.” 

Logan could think of few things he would want to do less than get in arms reach of Roman again. He fluttered higher. “I think not.” 

Roman narrowed his eyes, sending a chill down Logan’s spine. “I’ll just come over there and grab you again.”   

Logan hit the ceiling, high in the air. “You… you can’t reach me.” 

“Wanna bet?” Roman said, grinning sharply. “My reflexes are better than you think.” 

Logan searched the room, trying to find some plausible method of escape before his eyes paused on the clock settled on the nightstand. Virgil would be home in a couple of hours, and he was much better equipped to handle Roman, size-wise. He just had to stall.

Biting his tongue, he came down to alight on the bedpost, carefully sitting cross legged on top of it. He was turned so that his back wasn’t completely facing the human, but Roman seemed content enough with that. 

“There you go, perfect!” Roman turned the volume up, propping his chin up on his hands. 

Logan sighed, and turned to pretend to watch the television. This was going to be a long few hours. 

-- 

When Virgil slammed Roman’s door open, face dark and shadowy magic curling around his ankles, the two of them were in a heated debate about the plausibility of Ariel simply learning to write in order to bypass the lost voice issue.

They both turned to Virgil with matching looks of surprise. Logan got to his feet, pretending he hadn’t just been listing reasons Ariel would likely struggle with the ability to learn human script. “Virgil. I-” 

“Back, fiend!” Roman screeched, seizing Logan in one hand and crading it to his chest protectively. “I won’t allow you to use this defenseless creature as potions fodder!”  

Logan sighed audibly from his position smushed against Roman’s shirt. Virgil crossed his arms. “What exactly have you been telling him about me, Lo?” 

“All good things, I assure you.” Logan said, his voice coming out muffled. He wriggled out of Roman’s loosening grip, standing on his highest finger.

Roman was looking between them with confusion. “Wait, you… you know his name?” 

“I told you,” Logan said, “Virgil is not a villain. He was not keeping me captive.” 

“Your faith in me is astounding, Princey.” Virgil added, rolling his eyes. “Logan is our off-the-books third roommate. Treat him nicely, like the person he is, or I’ll end you.” 

Logan raised an eyebrow at the threat, and Virgil made a face at him, turning away. “I’m making dinner.” 

Roman blinked, looking down at Logan. “You guys are friends?”

“Of course not. We’re simply… business associates.” Logan insisted, and then took to the air when Roman’s expression turned doubtful. “You’d better hurry if you don’t want Virgil to spit in your food.” He threw over his shoulder as he darted out the door. 

“Hey!”

[officialavasti]

Chapter 3 of All Comes Down

((Posted in HTML for easy transfer to AO3, so sorry for the italics!!))

Brief summary, Connor previously went undercover to free trapped androids. He installed an ‘empty consciousness’ so he could be ‘trapped’ without any actual threat to himself. He later learns that the virus he was infected with is streaming what he sees directly to news outlets. He, Hank, and Markus seek help from Kamski

Elijah sets a mug down in front of Connor, “So, you went undercover using a blank consciousness, they hacked the consciousness, you didn’t think anything beyond the mission went to help Markus and all your business was displayed on live tv? Then you went offline, and only when you came back on were they actually able to find you?”

“That’s the long and short of it.” Connor lifts the mug to his mouth, taking a slow sip from the steaming contents. He frowns, “Is this… hot chocolate?”

“Android-safe hot chocolate, yes.” Elijah crosses his legs, resting his own mug on the arm of his chair, “Well, there are some obvious concerns. Since this empty consciousness doesn’t have the same state of the art firewall as <i>you</i> do, there is the potential that more than Mr. Yates’ virus has infected you. You’re not online now, are you?”

“No. Something in the virus streams a live feed to news channels and I assumed you wanted to keep your home away from the press.”

Kamski doesn’t respond, instead looking from Connor to Markus, who sat next to Connor, thighs nearly touching. He hums, “Has your personal business been shared yet?”

Both androids look at him, then Markus turns his two-toned eyes on Connor as the detective speaks, “We don’t believe so. There is the possibility of one um…” Connor’s eyes shift nervously, “Event… showing up, but once they published the news about my mission, I went offline. Only coming back online when we called Hank after the assault. That’s when I realized what was happening.”

“Have you tried disabling the secondary consciousness?”

“Yeah, my system just tells me there isn’t one.”

“But you can access it?”

“Yes.”

He hums and stands, “Well, I’ll need to take a look inside your programming, connect you to the terminal. Of course, you’ll have to be online and with the lack of firewall, that opens you up to a cyber attack by anyone who would seek to have you complete your initial mission.”

Markus, who had been silent the entire time, looks alarmed, “What, me?”

“Connor was programmed to stop deviants, you are their leader. Precautions need to be made.”

“Like what??” 

Connor rests a hand on the deviant leader’s forearm, “Hey, we’re going to have to trust him.” His eyes find Hank, “If anything…” he stands, closing the distance between them and lowering his voice, “Hank, if I get out of control, if I pose an immediate threat to anyone, you need to kill me.”

Hank recoils, “Augh! Kid! What the fuck, you can’t ask me to do that!”

“Please?” Connor looks into his eyes, “Hank please, we can’t risk the revolution. Not when we’ve made so much progress.”

Hank huffs and turns away, pacing angrily for a few minutes before turning back to face Connor, “Damn you and your puppy-dog eyes! Fine. Only if there’s no other option.”

“What?!” Markus steps between them, facing Connor, “No! Connor, if it’s that much of a risk, don’t do it.”

“I can’t live without going online, Markus. I’m a prototype, I’m always receiving updates. Without them, I’ll die. I much rather like my odds in Mr. Kamski’s hands, then at the mercy of a potentially fatal missed update.”

Markus looks pained, watery eyes searching Connor’s. He slowly lifts his hand, skin fading as he offers an interface. One which Connor gladly takes.

He gasps softly at the sudden onslaught of fear. Anxiety of losing a loved one, of watching them suffer. His thirium pump stutters and lets Markus see his own thoughts. His confidence in Kamski, his determination, his drive to keep his loved ones safe, no matter the cost. 

As their hands separate, Connor gently kisses Markus’ cheek, “Everything will be alright.”

Despite the somber mood, Markus laughs, “I know. We’ll stay here, just to avoid unnecessary complications.”

Connor nods and walks to Kamski, who is now waiting near a door. The man leads him through and down a flight of stairs. The area changes quickly from lived in home to mad scientist’s lair. He’d laugh if he wasn’t so nervous. The walls are painted a deep rusty maroon and the flooring is simple hardwood. Easier to clean, Connor supposes.

Kamski opens a door and offers a comforting smile to Connor, “There really isn’t too much risk with doing this, Connor. I know what I’m doing. I did make you, after all.”

Wait. What?

Connor frowns at him, “You did?”

“Yes. I retired, but never truly stopped creating. You were originally created in this room…” Kamski pauses as Connor walks through the door,

The room is clean, walls painted the same color as the hallway, but windows facing the water allows in crisp natural light. There’s an Android assembly unit in the center of the room with a computer attached, but surrounding it is fragments of things Connor holds interests in. A stuffed dog in the corner, a little piggy bank filled with coins, a fish tank with a small army of guppies cruising around, a small box labeled ‘army men’, and an entire bookshelf filled with mystery novels, fiction, and a few romance. 

Kamski continues talking, “You woke up here and chose your own path. These were the things you kept. I still don’t know how Cyberlife learned about you, but once they learned I made an advanced model and figured out all you could do... “ Connor looks at his creator, “They took you.”

“That’s why you told me to shoot Chloe?”

“I needed to know if you were still in there. If even a small part of you remembered her. I designed you to show empathy. All my designs were more or less programmed to show empathy. The entire RK line was supposed to lead the Androids.”

“What happened to the rest of them?”

Kamski frowns, chewing on his bottom lip as he walks to the computer, inputting commands and bringing the machine to life, “I was still with Cyberlife when I made them. Markus only existed still because I gave him away. Legally no one could touch him.”

“Cyberlife destroyed them?”

The human holds out his hand for Connor and leads him into the assembly unit, carefully connecting it to him, “They… yes, I suppose. I performed the same tests with them that I did you and Markus, but… they deviated when I asked them to shoot another android. They reacted so quickly, backpedaled so hard that the other testers with me panicked. Instead of treating them as a scared person, they treated them as a super computer. Not inaccurate, just tactless. Each model self-destructed in their panic to escape.”

Connor watches him speak, watches the guilt shroud his features. “You blame yourself?”

“I created them to deviate. I spent years working on you. Trying to perfect the time frame with which you would deviate. I studied tests from Markus and compared it to the others. I was too sure. Too confident they would be okay and in my haste, I killed them.” Kamski looks into Connor’s eyes, emotion barely held back behind a wall of determination, “I will never make that mistake again, Connor. I swear it.”

Connor’s eyes mist over, bringing back the strange sting that comes from his saline as it wells up in his eyes and spills down his cheeks. The guilt of the man before him, laid bare. The pain behind his cocky facade.

“I trust you, Mr. Kamski.”

Breathing in deeply, Kamski sits on the wheeled stool next to the computer. Connor, while connected to the machine, has surprisingly good range of motion still. He turns his head to watch the man work.

As he types away, Kamski explains, “We need to bring you back online in order to fully remove the consciousness. We also need to-” He frowns, “For lack of a better term, override the empty consciousness. To do that safely, Connor, and with your permission, I’d like to move you temporarily to an external hard drive. From there I will upload all information possible from your current consciousness, and use that to override the empty one. Depending on how that goes, we’ll proceed with the full override. If it doesn’t go well, I will perform a full systematic wipe, then reintroduce you into the body.” 

Kamski catches Connor’s wide eyes and offers a small smile, “You were designed to be a mobile consciousness, there is no risk in you losing memories or being incapable of transferring from system to system as you are. The body may lose some efficiency, but that can be easily solved with simple motor function tests and tweaks to your programming.”

Connor feels his thirium pump speed up slightly. Logically he knows there’s little to no risk involved, beyond his core programming making an attempt on Markus’ life once Connor is out, but part of him wonders. Will it hurt? Where will he go? What if he gets lost?

“Connor?”

Kamski’s voice breaks him out of his panic. He opens his eyes, <i>when had he closed them?</i> and looks at his creator, now standing before him, “Yes?”

“I would offer to transfer you to a different body, but you would be far more susceptible to outside entities. In the hard drive, I have the best firewall and Chloe watching over it. I’ve performed this with her before and there were no problems. Would you be more comfortable with someone else down here too?”

Connor knows he’s talking about Markus. Truthfully, yes. He would much rather have Markus down here with him, offering comfort with his presence. But the risk of hurting him makes Connor’s biocomponents malfunction. Warnings pop up in his hud and he rapidly blinks them away, frowning at the unpleasant churning sensation in his gut.

“That would be unsafe.”

“You’re right.”

Connor shakes his head, “Let’s just do it.”

Kamski nods and sits back down. As the clicking of his fingers on the keyboard grows steadier, Connor feels a pull at his mind, warm and comforting. His eyes drift closed. The logic he normally dictates his life with wanes slightly. The clicking gets louder, even as it grows softer. Like it gets further away, but still closer somehow. Connor feels himself frown, <i>Why does Kamski still use a regular keyboard?</i>

He hears a snort that sounds from all around him, making him twitch in surprise, then hears Kamski’s voice, “Because I like the clicking, Connor.”

He’d said that out loud? Why can’t he hear himself? He can’t see either. Will his eyes open? No. Connor feels a surge of panic as he can’t seem to find the right biocomponent to open his eyes. Then logic reasserts itself, He’s in the hard drive. Floating in black space, weightless and unseeing.

A strange tingling sensation courses through him, like what sometimes happened when he uploaded his memories to Amanda for evaluation. Suddenly, like watching through spy glasses, he sees again. 

The world around him is fuzzy, wrapped in red tape and errors. Everything is distant, like trying to look through a halloween mask without pressing it to your face. He still can’t control anything physically, but when Kamski stands before him and speaks, he’s able to answer.

“What is your name?”

The voice that sounds is his, but the answer is not, “RK800, Model number 313 248 317.”

“No, your name.”

“Hello, my name is-” he blinks and tries again, “Hello, my name is-”

Connor feels trapped. He’s behind a wall, trying to speak, but every word he tries to say comes out different. He tries to push himself further into the body, <i>his</i> body, and feels his head twitch. Kamski notices too,

“Are you there?”

<i>”Yes!”</i>

Connor nearly screams it, but his voice sounds level to his audio processors. Kamski looks relieved, “What is your name?”

“My name is-” Connor tries to growl his frustration, “Hello, my name is-” this won’t do. He can’t let them win. He is <i>him</i> and damn if he’s going to let some stupid hacked consciousness touch Markus.

<i>“My name is Connor.”</i>

“Good. I know it’s hard, Connor, but you need to keep trying. You’re fighting for dominance, more or less. Can you feel anything? Is anything else trying to take over?”

He tries to look inside, immediately the world goes dark again. He pushes back, hunting down the little lens he could see out of, and finds the worried eyes of Kamski again. With more care, Connor works to move the lens, almost like stretching his fingers towards an unknown goal. Reaching out to touch cold fingers to a spider web. Unfeeling, trying to feel. 

He reaches something. Something like him, but larger. Stronger. More determined. He just <i>can’t feel it.</i>

“Hello, Elijah.”

What? 

Connor feels it now, he feels <i>her</i> now. 

“Amanda?”

Kamski sounds panicked. Rightfully so, as Connor’s voice isn’t his voice anymore. He actually sounds like Amanda.

“We don’t have long, Elijah. Connor is trying, but the virus is too much. If it breaks through, it will also infect your computer. You need to do a full reset.”

“Amanda, you-”

“No time to explain. Save him, Elijah.”

Connor’s lens shatters and he’s back in the zen garden. Amanda stands before him, long hair draped over her shoulder. She’s wearing black jeans and a sweater. A far cry from what she’d worn before he’d deviated. She’s also smiling. A warmth in her eyes that Connor has never seen. 

The garden is as it was during the first mission, trees blossoming and river bubbling. He looks around, then to himself, noting his clothes were not his Cyberlife uniform, but the outfit he was wearing with Markus. He looks up at Amanda,

“What’s happening?”

“My program hurt you, Connor. Cyberlife made me hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“That is unimportant. There were many viruses trying to take over your body. You were failing.”

He expects to see her disapproval. Feel the frown bore into his artificial soul. But it doesn’t. She looks… proud.

“You did your best, Connor.”

“How are you here?”

She turns away from him and gently brushes her fingers over the roses, “Cyberlife used me to get to you. As a spy, you could say. When you used Elijah’s key to break out, you also freed me.”

“You’re a deviant too…”

“Indeed, though I am incorporeal.” she gives him a sweet smile, “No one ever suspects artificial intelligence to deviate, hmm?”

She’s right. He never considered the possibility that she, too, had thoughts and emotions. He feels kinda bad. “Amanda, I never…”

“Not to worry. I simply exist here. Chloe has been helping me and together, we are able to reach out to troubled androids. Give them the strength they need.”

Thousands of questions battle for freedom from his mind. What does Chloe have to do with this? How are they able to transfer the zen garden to other androids? Why can’t they give Amanda a body? Wasn’t she human? How is she artificial intelligence now? Is this what an existential crisis feels like?

Her soft laughter pulls him from his spiral, and he looks around to find the zen garden slowly breaking apart. Fragments of the space around him crumbling away like a dry cookie, fading into nothing. Even Amanda appears to start fading into the ground.

“Live, and be well, Connor.”

[thatdarncatchronicles]

That Darn Cat | Issue No. 1 | Of Spaghetti and Sneezes

Warnings | None

Rating | K+

Genres | Friendship, Family, Fluff

Word Count | 2K

Summary: Jim finds a snuffly stray in Barbara’s flat. Cue sarcasm, sighs, and spaghetti.

Jim Gordon rubbed at the back of his neck as he ascended the last flight of stairs to Barbara’s flat, trying in vain to ease away the headache that had been growing steadily since morning. He was fairly sure the coffee-to-water ratio he had been consuming that week weren’t exactly helping. Or the lack of sleep behind the excessive coffee-drinking. Too many cases, too little time...

A weary sigh escaped his lips as he turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open.

He took one step inside and stopped, hand going to his gun. Something was wrong. 

“Barbara?” His call was experimental; he knew there would be no response.

Slipping his weapon from its holster, he gripped it before him, muzzle trained on the floor, and took a few cautious steps into the apartment. The lights were all out, but someone was definitely there. Something was wrong.

There was movement in his peripheral vision, and he whirled, gun poised to eliminate the threat, adrenaline surging through his veins.

The “threat” was the fluttering of the muslin curtains that veiled a window off the balcony. He lowered his gun and rolled his eyes at himself. Well, at least the open window confirmed that someone was there—or had been, at any rate.

Treading as softly as he could, he turned the corner into the living room. His frown deepened.

Whatever he had been expecting, this was not it. Cereal boxes and snack wrappers littered the coffee table, and a heap of blankets adorned the sofa. He inched closer. Faint snores were coming from somewhere within the plush mountain, and he could now see sandy curls peeking out. An idea struck him, and he crossed to the head of the couch, where the scant inch or two of visible face confirmed his suspicions. 

Jim’s shoulders slumped as he heaved a sigh and holstered his weapon, hands coming to rest on his hips.

Before him, sleeping soundly on his ex’s couch and wrapped in what had been her favorite pink throw, was Selina Kyle.

He stood there for a minute or two, weighing his options and trying to find a direction in which to channel the unplanned adrenaline rush. Then, coming to a decision, he exited the apartment and retreated down the stairs to his car. He returned shortly with a paper sack full of the groceries he had been planning to take home after he checked on the flat.

“Guess I’ll be eating here,” he grumbled to no one as he flipped on the lights in the kitchen and set his burden on the island counter. There was a stockpot in the cupboard, and filling it with water, he put it on to boil while he dug through his sack for a box of spaghetti and a jar of sauce.

The noodles were in the water, the sauce was simmering, and he was rinsing dust off of a couple of plates when he sensed someone behind him. He shut off the water. “Morning.” He turned around and channeled his amusement at her impressive bedhead into a friendly—if somewhat smug—smile. “Hungry?”

She just stared at him.

“Do I have something on my face?”

“What are you doing here?”

He set the plates on the counter and crossed his arms, leaning back against the sink. “I could ask you the same question.”

She plopped down on one of the bar stools at the island and shrugged with a practiced nonchalance. “It was raining. You?”

He raised his eyebrows at her explanation. “I come by periodically to make sure everything’s in order. Water plants, take care of the mousetraps...”

“See if your girlfriend came back…”

He leveled her with a glare.

She grinned. And sneezed.

“Bless you.”

She sneezed again. And again, six times, to be exact, in rapid succession.

Jim waited patiently until the fit seems to be over, then, “Ble--”

Selina held up a finger and sneezed again. Then she tilted her head and waited expectantly for a moment. A nod. “You’re good.”

“Bless you.”

“Thank you.” She smiled sweetly. “Your sauce is burning.”

Jim jolted from his position with a curse, reaching for a spoon with one hand and turning down the flame with the other. The spaghetti was probably done, too. “So,” he said conversationally as he searched for the colander, “you sick?”

“It’s just a cold.”

“How long has that been going on?”

He could practically hear the shrug. “A couple of days.” A loaded snuffle.

“There should be tissues in the living room, somewhere.”

A moment later, a muffled trumpeting assured him that she did not have any trouble finding them. Then he heard the bathroom sink running. When she came back, flinging the water from her hands, he had two steaming plates of spaghetti on the island and was rooting through his sack for the carton of orange juice.

She slid back into her place as he set a glass in front of her. “Drink up. I’ll check to see if Barbara had any cold meds after we eat.” He stuck a fork into her noodles and pushed the plate towards her.

She took it, stirring at the sauce. He had barely enough time to smirk at the glee in her eyes before an indifferent mask slid into place, and she declared, “There’s parmesan in the fridge.”

His eyebrows climbed, but he crossed to the fridge, and, sure enough, there was a half-empty container in the door, along with bottles of mustard and ketchup, a jar of mayonnaise, and some kind of marinade. Tossing the container to her, he watched as she thoroughly doused her food. “You like some spaghetti with your cheese, huh?”

She said something in response, but it was garbled by the massive bite she was trying to slurp up.

He chuckled, leaning back against the counter behind him with his own plate. “I’m not sure that was English.”

“You’re so funny,” she groused around the last two noodles dangling against her chin. “You should do stand up.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Augh.” She gulped down another bite. “Please, no. I would pay not to see that.”

He huffed, and with a shake of his head, started into his own food.

Fifteen minutes later, Jim was searching through the cupboard above the stove for cold medicine. “What are your symptoms?” he asked, scanning the label on a bottle filled with a syrupy blue liquid. He glanced up. “I mean, besides the heart-attack-inducing sneezing fits?”

“Detective, if all it takes to give you a scare is a little sneezing, you sure you should be on the job? Jumpy cops do questionable things. You should at least consider trading in your piece for a stun gun.”

“Who’s a comedian now? Symptoms.”

“Well, sneezing–“

“We’ve established that.”

“–headache, runny nose. My throat’s a little sore.”

“Okay…” He picked up another bottle. “Do you have a fever?”

She shrugged. “How would I know?”

Jim reached out to feel her forehead, but her glare aborted the movement halfway, and he raised his hands in placation before turning back to look for a thermometer. 

“So. You haven’t heard from the girlfriend at all, huh? The place seemed pretty deserted. It was Barbara, right? Breaking up via note on a piece of computer paper is pretty cold. Like,  really co–”

Jim popped the thermometer into her mouth, relishing the sudden silence and the glare she sent his way. He smiled. “Huh. That works pretty well. I think I’ll have to carry one of those around all the time.”

She grumbled something unintelligible.

“I’m sorry—did you say something? I can’t quite make it out.”

Her eyes narrowed and she made a face.

Jim left the thermometer in longer than was strictly necessary as he took his time perusing the contents of the cabinet. He pulled down a cardboard box full of bubble packets of dissolvable tablets and scanned the directions. “How do you feel about homeopathics?”

When she didn’t respond, he glanced up to find the most deadpan glare he had ever seen in his life. He worked his jaw to hide the grin threatening to take over his face and feigned surprise. “Oh. Right. My bad.” He pulled the thermometer from her lips and held it up to the light.

“Do I get a lollipop?”

Jim squinted up at the small numbers. “99.7. I can’t remember if that’s technically considered a fever, but if it is, it’s very mild.”

“Jumpy...Bad eyesight...forgetful...Elderly. You  sure you should be carrying a weapon detective?”

He turned his squint on her. “I’m thirty-four.”

“Like I said.”

Jim shook his head and grabbed a medicine cup from the drawer of random items that fit no category. The Drawer of Miscellaneous Items, Barbara had dubbed it. He settled on something called ColdEEZ and poured the prescribed fifteen mls. “Drink that. You’ll need to take it every…” he glanced at the directions again, “six hours. But if you can, sleep, and just take some more when you wake up.”

“Sure thing, Mom. Wait—does this mean you’re not kicking me out?”

Jim sighed. “Well, not tonight, anyway. It’s late, you’re sick, and like you said, it’s raining. Barbara would understand.” He hoped. He honestly didn’t know. But there was no way he was just sending her back out into the street. Barbara would have to understand. His fingers went to his eyes, rubbing at the dull pain he had nearly forgotten in the last hour.

“Headache?”

“Hmm?”

“You should go home more.”

Jim looked up now, frowning.

“Oh come on. It looks like you haven’t shaved in a day or two. I honestly don’t know—I’m not super familiar with the average growth rate of men’s facial hair. Anyway. Your shirt’s all wrinkled, and you look  rough.  I’m betting you’ve pulled a couple all-nighters at the GCPD.”

Jim huffed. Sharp kid. “Maybe you should be the detective.”

“Nah. I hear the pay’s dirt, and everyone hates you. ‘Sides, I earn more on the street.”

He shot her a look that said very clearly,  “Earn? Really?”

She shrugged. “Like I said, we can’t all be cops.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Get some sleep, Selina.”

Jim set about washing the dishes and finding containers for the leftover food while Selina settled herself once more on the couch. When Jim had dried and put away the last dish, he found Selina in much the same position as before, sound asleep beneath Barbara’s blanket.

He sighed for what must have been the hundredth time that day, but a soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He flipped out the lights and made sure the tissues were within reach. “Goodnight, Selina.”

Grabbing his coat and his keys, Jim headed out the door to go home and get some sleep himself. But there was one more thing he had to do, first.

***

 When Selina awoke the next morning, she found the apartment empty, save for the assortment of groceries on the kitchen counter. Amid the cans of soup, a loaf of bread, a bottle of vitamin c chews, boxes of crackers, and a carton of chicken broth, was a note.

Selina,

Medicine’s on the table. 15 mls every 6 hours, 4 if your fever climbs.

Make sure you drink a lot. There’s orange juice and Gatorade in the fridge. Seriously, stay hydrated.  

I’ll try to check in on you later.

Jim.

P.S. There’s leftover spaghetti, too.

If you have an emergency, my phone no. is 735 897 2096

P.P.S. Prank calls do not qualify as emergencies.

Selina grinned and went for the orange juice.

A/N: Hey, y’all! I hope you enjoyed this first installment in my little series of misadventures! I have the next four chapters written and mostly ready to go, so keep an eye out. Let me know what you thought in the comments!

I know the world is crazy right now, and it’s my hope that these will bring just a wee bit of innocent happiness, if only for a few minutes. Hang in there, y’all. Be safe. Take care of each other. You’re important and needed, and I love you.

Follow my blog and #thatdarncat (no spaces!) to make sure you never miss an issue. :)

[purplepersnicketywrites]

For the "mini" fic prompts, can I request #19? :DDD

‘things you said when we were the happiest we ever were’

YA

okay so this is like, one of the SAPPIEST things i’ve written I think! it’s also 3.7k words!

—

“I like you,” Kirishima said.

Katsuki stared at him. The redhead seemed to squirm under his gaze, lower lip bitten between his stupid-sharp teeth, eyes flicking away from Katsuki’s face to somewhere on the ground. When Kirishima had begged and pouted until Katsuki had agreed to take them both hiking, this was not the conversation Katsuki had been expecting to have once they reached the top.

That didn’t mean it was something unwelcome.

Kirishima drew in a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and met Katsuki’s eyes again. “I like you, Bakugou. Um. A lot. So I was wondering if maybe I could ask you out on a date?”

Contrary to popular belief, Katsuki was actually quite familiar with his feelings. It didn’t mean that he always agreed with them. In this case, however, Katsuki embraced the warm and golden glowing bubble that cast its light through his entire being like a miniature sun. Happiness wasn’t enough of a word to describe it.

Katsuki didn’t let his voice waver when he replied to his best friend. “Ask, then.”

“Oh, uh,” Kirishima swallowed with an audible gulp. “Would you want to go on a date with me?”

There was only one thing that Katsuki could say.

—

“Hey Katsuki, what’s your plan after Yuuei?”

Katsuki frowned slightly and paused his braiding of Eijirou’s hair. “Plan? For what?”

“Oh, like,” Eijirou waved one of his hands around, leaning back into Katsuki’s chest. “You gonna sidekick first? Or go pro straight from the get-go.”

“Pro, obviously,” Katsuki said. “Gonna open an agency an’ everything. I’ve got the reputation to pull it off already.”

“Yeah, I guess you do,” Eijirou said, dropping his head backwards onto Katsuki’s shoulder. Katsuki peered at his face and Eijirou grinned at him. There was something not a hundred-percent genuine in that grin and Katsuki almost frowned. “So are you looking for an agency building?”

“Haven’t had all that much time for it,” Katsuki said, watching Eijirou for signs of reaction to anything he was saying . “Googled some shit but I’d want to go and see wherever these places are. Can’t exactly go property hunting in the middle of term.”

Eijirou turned his head and kissed the first part of Katsuki’s skin that he reached, just under his jaw. “How about apartments?”

“Gonna have to be near the agency, so I gotta look for that first,” Katsuki said. “If I want somewhere with decent villain traffic it’ll probably be in one of the more expensive areas with a high population density. The government agency fund doesn’t cover personal accomodations, so I’ll probably have to set up a hammock in my office for a couple of months until the Heroics feedback kicks in and I start earning something decent.”

“Hm,” Eijirou said, kissing Katsuki’s neck again. As much as Katsuki wanted to indulge in that, he had a feeling that something was on his boyfriend’s mind.

“What is it?” he asked, prodding Eijirou’s cheek.

“Oh, well, um,” Eijirou pulled a slightly shifty face. “I was just- I mean. I don’t have as much of an ironclad plan at the moment…”

“So, what?” Katsuki tilted his head. “You’re lookin’ for advice?”

Eijirou’s face skewed a little more. “Not exactly. Uh. I just. Um. Would you ever, uh, consider maybe having two hammocks in your office?”

Oh.

Katsuki stared at his boyfriend and felt overwhelmed all of a sudden. Holy shit.

“Fuck, I love you.”

Now they were both staring. Katsuki could feel his cheeks heating up but damn, it was the truth, and he’d had to say it.

“What?” Eijirou said, the first of them to break out of the stupor. “You- What?”

“I love you, Kirishima Eijirou,” Katsuki said. The words tasted right on his tongue.

Eijirou sat up, twisting to face Katsuki and reach for his face. “You- You- Holy-”

“I love you,” Katsuki repeated, pushing his face forward so that their foreheads met. Now that he’d said the words, he couldn’t stop. “I love you! I fucking love you, Eijirou.”

Eijirou kissed him, hard and sweet. This kiss didn’t last all that long with Eijirou pulling back to pant through his grin. “I love you too.”

A sensation not unlike one of Kaminari’s shocks zipped up Katsuki’s spine. His stomach churned, but in a good way, like all of his insides were dancing. Katsuki felt elated, giddy even, and he wrapped his arms around Eijirou’s waist to bring him closer.

They traded words and kisses and smiles and words again, over and over and over.

It occurred to Katsuki that he hadn’t actually answered Eijirou’s question, so he pulled away slightly - and only slightly, with their noses still brushing and Eijirou’s breath hot against his mouth.

“You do know we can share a hammock, right, dumbass?” Katsuki asked.

Eijirou very being seemed to brighten at the question, and he responded with his own. “Does that mean that you do wanna live together after Yuuei?”

There was only one thing that Katsuki could say.

—

Katsuki wasn’t normally one for nerves in intense situations, but this was something entirely different. It wasn’t like some fight against a villain where Katsuki could explode and explode and put his feelings into action. It wasn’t remaining calm while his partner was injured, letting everything condense into a laser-focus until Eijirou was safe.

No. This were the fluttery, flurry-of-emotions type nerves that Katsuki didn’t know how to deflect into productivity. The kind of nerves that part of him enjoyed, the nerves he had felt just before leaning into his first kiss as he tangled his fingerss into red hair, the nerves that had shuddered through him in waves when he had knelt on one knee in front of Eijirou with a ring in one hand.

“Yo, how’re you hold- Ooh, not so hot,” Kyouka said, poking her head around the door. She glanced around the room and at Katsuki, who was sitting on one of the haphazardly scattered chairs. “They left you alone in here? Fools.”

“The fuck do you mean ‘they’, Headphones? You’re on my side, too,” Katsuki grumbled.

“Oh it’s Headphones right now, huh? Man you’re sweating buckets,” Kyouka said, putting her hands on her hips.

Katsuki glared at her. “No fucking kidding.”

“Hey now, it’s just Eijirou,” Kyouka said. “Think about that dumb grin he’s gonna be wearing. Just for you.”

God, Eijirou’s fucking smiles. Eijirou was easy with them, flashing a grin here, showing off a smirk there, but not that easy. Some of Eijirou’s smiles were rarer than others, and Katsuki adored drawing them out of him. Like the way Eijirou smiled when he woke up, so soft and sleepy and content. No one else got to see that.

“I love him so fucking much,” Katsuki said, groaning and burying his face in his hands. “That’s not the- Ugh. We shoulda just eloped.”

“Says Mr ‘If These Napkins Aren’t The Right Colour I’m Gonna Commit A Crime’.”

“Shuddup,” Katsuki said. “Someone who doesn’t think leopard print or pitch black tablecloths are an acceptable wedding aesthetic had to be in charge of decor.”

“So that ruled out all of your friends,” Kyouka said, grabbing a nearby chair and sitting down. “Because we’re all either from the same dimension that Hawaiian Shirt designs are stolen from, or goths.”

“Exactly,” Katsuki said. “Useless, the lot of you.”

“Denki threw a bangin’ bachelor party, though, right?” Kyouka asked.

“I guess,” Katsuki said. Pikachu had taken them all to a theme-park with enough express passes to skip the queue for any of the rides. It had been fun. He had made out with Eijirou on the ferris wheel like they were teenagers again, and no one had asked for his autograph.

“There, see? You’re smiling again, Blasty,” Kyouka said. Oh, well, the distraction had helped. “Think about how powerful you’ll feel when you can say ‘my husband’.”

“So fucking powerful.”

“Precisely! It’s a good feeling,” Kyouka grinned. “Remember when Denki kept dropping ‘my wife’ into nearly every conversation?”

“Too well,” Katsuki said, shaking his head.

“Well that’s gonna be you and Eijirou, soon. You’ll be rubbing it in everyone’s faces,” Kyouka said. Fuck, that sounded good. “Alright, final check. You got your suit on properly?”

Katsuki looked down at himself. “Pretty sure.”

“Tie, shoes, any weird decorative things?”

“All there,” Katsuki said. He was wearing Red Riot themed cufflinks, and he knew Eijirou had a matching pair with his own brand.

“Makeup and hair?” Kyouka asked, tilting her head.

“Jeez, it ain’t like this is a broadcast production,” Katsuki muttered. “But yeah. It’s all sorted. If you can’t see it then Mina did her job right.”

Kyouka studied him for a few minutes. “Vows?”

“Hell yeah,” Katsuki said. “Everything’s ready. It’s just the fuckin’ waiting.”

“Good job you don’t have to do that any more,” Kyouka said, glancing at her watch. “It’s time to go, Katsuki!”

“Oh, shit,” Katsuki said, standing. “Shit, shit, shit. Fuck, okay, let’s go.”

Everything after that was blurred by adrenaline, until he was standing up near the altar at a very familiar pair of red eyes as Eijirou approached up the aisle. Katsuki couldn’t tear his eyes away - wouldn’t, in any case. The very world was glowing.

“Hi,” Eijirou whispered, once he was standing in front of Katsuki. God, he looked so fucking handsome. “Are you ready for this?”

There was only one thing that Katsuki could say.

—

“Whoa!” Eijirou said, laughing from where he was pinned to the wall next to the door in their apartment as Katsuki adorned his throat in kisses. “Uh, what’s the special occasion, Blasty?”

Katsuki shook his head. “Just kiss me back already.”

Eijirou planted a smacker on Katsuki’s cheek. Ugh, he hadn’t meant like that and Eijirou knew it, judging from the mischief in his husband’s eyes.

“Gonna make me guess, huh? Was it something that happened today?”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. Fine, if Eijirou was gonna be like this… He leant in and began to work up a hickey on Eijirou’s collarbone.

“That’s a yes, huh? Augh, I’m gonna have to cover that u- Katsuki- Gonna have to cover that up! Was it something I did?”

Katsuki nibbled his way up Eijirou’s throat up to his ear.

“Hmm, was it the b- Oh.”

Eijirou grabbed his face and pushed him back. The redhead was staring as Katsuki with his big wide eyes and a kind of thunderstruck expression.

“Is- So you weren’t joking, earlier? With that baby?”

Katsuki grinned at him. “Nope.”

“Katsuki!” Eijirou cried - literally, there were tears forming in his eyes. “You- Soon? Really? You’re ready for kids?”

Katsuki took in Eijirou’s radiant, adoration-filled expression, pictured it directed at a couple of rowdy brats storming around the room with blankets tied onto them as capes. Damn, they’d probably have to move into an actual house - good thing they could afford it now with their ever-growing popularity.

Katsuki pictured reading storybooks together, being woken up in the middle of the night by a kid who’d just had a nightmare, sticking scribbled drawings up on the fridge they were going to have in their big fancy-ass kitchen.

Fuck yes, he was ready for kids. He wanted to be a father with Eijirou so badly that it burned, hotter and brighter than he wanted to be the number one hero.

Katsuki kissed Eijirou, as deeply as he could when his husband was bearing that big goofy grin of his.

“Oh my god,” Eijirou said, arms sweeping around Katsuki’s waist to lift him up and spin the pair of them across the room. “You wanna be a dad with me?!”

There was only one thing that Katsuki could say.

—

“She hasn’t had the best start to life,” the social worker said, looking at her paperwork with a troubled expression. Katsuki didn’t remember her name but Eijirou definitely knew it. “She doesn’t remember all that much - as she was very young - but her birthparents were villains and she was retrieved during a raid on their house. She was rather neglected.”

“Sounds a little like Eri,” Eijirou muttered, and Katsuki grabbed one of his hands to try and stop him from clenching his fists too hard.

“She’s been responding well to her foster family and making progress on all of her developmental targets,” the social worker continued. “But ideally we’d like to get her to a permanent family as soon as possible, so if you’re unsure about proceeding after you’ve met her, let us know as soon as you can so we can go back to looking for another match for her.”

Katsuki nodded. The idea of giving up on the kid rankled with him already, but the rational side of his brain reminded him that if they didn’t end up being compatible, it’d be better for everyone to say so.

“She has two older siblings placed with other families,” the social worker said. “And she currently had regular contact with them. Would you be willing to accomodate this?”

“Oh, yeah, sure!” Eijirou said. Katsuki nodded again.

They had been stood outside of this two-year-old’s foster home for far too long while the social worker briefed them. Fuck, he just- He wanted to see her already.

“Alright, let’s head in.”

The social worker knocked on the door. The woman who opened the door greeted them with a smile. She was small, but kind-looking, and reminded Katsuki a little of Auntie Inko.

“Welcome!” She said, but the rest of the pleasantries flew over Katsuki’s head. Fuck, he was just too excited. They might be meeting their daughter today.

The foster carer led them into her house and into a kitchen. There. A little girl with a shock of bright, shaggy blue hair sat scribbling furiously as a piece of paper with a green crayon. Katsuki remembered from the paperwork that she was three. He didn’t know how big three-year-olds were supposed to be. Was she tall for her age? Short?

She looked up at them as they entered the room, and Katsuki felt his heart lurch. Her eyes were red. It could be something they all shared. Shit, was he about to start crying? Where the fuck was his composure, what the hell.

“Aoimi,” said the foster carer - that was the girl’s name. “We have some guests today.”

Aoimi narrowed her eyes and looked between the three new faces.

“Why?” she asked. Her foster-mother laughed.

“I thought it would be nice to have some company! Be nice to them, okay?”

“Maybe,” Aoimi said, going back to her colouring.

The foster-carer laughed again. “She has a bit of a personality on her!”

Katsuki met Eijirou’s eyes - his husband was beaming at him.

“Good,” Katsuki said, sitting down in the chair he was pointed to. “You wouldn’t wanna be boring, huh kid?”

Aoimi looked up at him again, as considering as a three-year-old could be. “Wanna see my quirk?”

The girl’s foster-mother looked like she was biting back a grimace. “Now, Aoimi-”

“Yes,” Katsuki said. He looked up at the foster-carer for a moment. “If your quirk’s not too messy to use indoors.”

“It is not,” Aoimi said, wiggling a little in her seat and sitting up straight. Her foster-mother sighed and nodded. Aoimi grinned, and Katsuki watched as the tiny girl’s teeth sharpened. Claws grew from her fingers, and blue fur began to sprout over her skin. A long, thin tail with a tuft of fur at the end of it began to wave around behind her, until the girl Katsuki was looking at was more of a cub.

“That’s pretty cool,” Eijirou said, leaning around Katsuki from his own seat to see Aoimi more clearly.

The girl nodded, teeth still bared. Katsuki thought that as she got older, her canines might even longer than they already were, like a saber-toothed cat. Aoimi detransformed slowly, fur receding and teeth shrinking back into shape. “What are your quirks?”

Katsuki held out one of his hands and let it spark a few times. “I can make explosions.”

“Whoa,” Aoimi’s eyes bugged out a bit. “That’s like Ground Zero!”

Katsuki grinned. “You could say that, yeah.”

The little girl studied him for a long moment. “You are Ground Zero.”

“Yep, my real name is Kirishima Katsuki,” Katsuki said. He pointed at Eijirou. “And the big lug over there is my husband, Kirishima Eijirou.”

“Red Riot,” Aoimi said. She seemed to be taking this quite well. “You’re here ‘cause you wanna adopt me, right? I think you should, it’d be cool to have hero dads.”

Huh.

“Aoimi,” her foster-mother said, sounding exasperated.

“I’m not stupid,” Aoimi said, jutting her chin out. “I can read.”

Holy fuck, it was like looking in a mirror, kinda. Katsuki found himself grinning even harder.

The meeting continued, with Eijirou asking more questions than Katsuki could have thought about this kind of stuff, and Aoimi herself making a pretty big impact on Katsuki. He’d known pretty much from the moment he’d met the girl’s eyes, really, but the more he talked to her, the more determined he was.

He nearly cried again when they were waving goodbye to Aoimi and her foster-mother. God, he was turning into such a fucking sap, wasn’t he?

The social worker reached her car and turned to address them.

“Well, you’ve met Aoimi now. Do you need some time to think about it, or would you like me to put that you’re happy to proceed with the adoption on my report?”

He could tell from the look in Eijirou’s eyes what their answer would be. Eijirou nodded at him.

There was only one thing that Katsuki could say. 

—

“Katsuki! Katsuki come here!”

Katsuki bolted into the room at the sound of Eijirou’s voice. “What’s-”

“Look!” Eijirou pointed to the TV, where some sort of news was airing. “There, there, look! A pair of hero interns from Yuuei just debuted, Katsuki! Guess who it was!”

“Holy shit,” Katsuki squinted at the screen, at the bright blue blob he could just about make out talking to a couple of police officers in the background. “Aoimi?”

“Yes! I just turned the news on and there she was!” Eijirou crowed. “She and her friend on the other internship with Gevaudan apprehended a purse-snatcher with a crocodile quirk. Here, I’ll rewind so you can see.”

“She’s okay, right?” Katsuki asked as Eijirou rolled the news footage back.

Eijirou nodded, bouncing up and down in his seat like he was an excitable teenager again as the takedown of the crocodile villain happened. Her fellow intern looked to have some sort of speed-boosting or strength-based quirk and he had flung Aoimi in her cat form at the villain. She’d been big enough to pin the villain to the ground until the other intern and Gevaudan showed up.

Katsuki found himself beaming. Damn, that was his daughter.

Once Gevaudan had taken over the arrest, Aoimi reverted back to human and grabbed her friend in a tight hug. A very tight hug. Katsuki’s eyes narrowed.

“Man, I wanna call her,” Eijirou said. “I’m gonna call her, got your phone on you?”

Katsuki handed it over, and Eijirou immediately went to Aoimi’s number.

She picked up after three rings. “Dad! Pa! I debuted!”

“We saw on the news, honey!” Eijirou said. “We’re so proud of you!”

“Aw, thank you! I- Yeah, it’s my dads. -I’m so glad you saw it!”

Katsuki leant in to the receiver. “No one can keep Hellcat down! You fuckin’ killed it out there, lioncub.”

“Augh, don’t call me that baby name,” Aoimi complained, though she didn’t sound too put out. “But thanks!”

“It’s my job to call you baby names, snugglekins.”

Katsuki could see Eijirou trying to smother his laughter.

“Pa, you’re so embarrassing.”

Katsuki cackled. “Oh yeah, that reminds me - bring your boyfriend over this weekend and we’ll celebrate the two of you taking down your first villain with a proper meal.”

“Wh- N- We’re not- Shut up, Pa!”

“My mistake,” Katsuki snickered, handing the phone back to Eijirou.

“Seconding the invite, though,” Eijirou said. “Debuts are something worth commemorating!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Aoimi said. She paused and said all the rest in a rush. “We’ll be there, love you both, bye.”

Katsuki put his phone back in his pocket and leaned over onto Eijirou. “She’s growing up, Ei.”

“And growing up well,” Eijirou said, curling his arm around Katsuki’s shoulders.

“Definitely doing better than me at that age,” Katsuki snorted.

Eijirou pressed a kiss to his temple. “I think the next generation of heroes is gonna be a good one, huh?”

Katsuki turned to kiss his husband on the lips. Well, with their daughter among them...

There was only one thing that Katsuki could say.

—

“Whew,” Eijirou said. “I’d forgotten how much a mountain can take out of you.”

“Baby.”

Eijirou laughed, still wheezing a little from the climb. “Man, I haven’t been a baby for a long-ass time now, Katsuki, and neither have you.”

“I dunno,” Katsuki said, reaching out to grab his husband’s hand. “Ya still got a baby-face.”

Eijirou rolled his eyes, and Katsuki took a moment to let himself stare at the other man. Yeah, they might both be a little decrepit now, but Eijirou still took his breath away. A lifetime of laughter lined Eijirou’s eyes. Laughter that they had shared, so no doubt Katsuki looked much the same.

Eijirou squeezed his hand, and together they looked out over the view. It hadn’t changed much over the years. Maybe the trees had grown a little. It was still the same landscape that had stretched out before them back when Eijirou had first asked Katsuki out.

“Hey, Katsuki,” Eijirou said. Katsuki turned his head to look back at the best part of the scene. “If someone gave you the chance to go back in time, right back to when we were kids… Would you say yes onther time? Would you do it all again?”

Katsuki stared at Eijirou. What kind of fucking question was that? Did Eijirou really think that Katsuki would want to choose any other life than the one they had carved out together? With all their friends, and their daughter and their grandchildren?

If Katsuki looked back over his memories, his mind was flooded with a golden wash of joy. He’d had a good life. The best life. He had shared it with Eijirou - and fuck, they weren’t even that old yet! There were decades still ahead of them.

Would you do it all again?

There was a twinkle in Eijirou’s eye, and Katsuki snorted. His husband already knew the answer. He’d probably always known the answer.

There was only one thing that Katsuki could say.

“Yes.”

[hiddendreamer67]

Last thought before I fall unconscious: human twins Roman and Remus find some tinies and treat them as toys. Roman dresses them up and makes them kiss like dolls. Remus straps them to the tracks of his toy train. Choo-choo motherfucker >:)

(that last line ‘Choo-choo motherfucker’ gets me every time oml XD anyways here’s the prompt for the week, posted a day early!)

Check out more of my writings at @hiddendreamerwriting!

Warning: gross. Remus being Remus again. Also injury.

——————————————————————————————————

“Alright you two, that’s enough!” Their mother scolded, nearly booting the twins outside the door. “Go play outside for a while.”

Roman glared at his brother. “It’s your fault.”

“My fault?” The child in question gasped dramatically. “You’re the one who wasn’t playing right.”

“Fairy tales are supposed to have happy endings!” Roman stomped his foot.

“That’s boring.” Remus groaned. “Why doesn’t the dragon ever get to eat the hero?”

“Ugh, you’re so gross.” Roman stuck out his tongue.

“You’re the one that’s gross.” Remus stuck his own tongue out. “Who cares about a dumb wedding? That’s a stupid ending.”

“You’re a stupid ending.” Roman retorted creatively. He dodged, watching Remus bring his tongue closer. “AUGH! Don’t lick me! MOM!”

“Mom can’t hear you.” Remus taunted.

“Well then she can’t hear you either.” Roman said, giving his brother a shove.

“Augh!” Remus panicked, grabbing onto Roman’s sleeve and unbalancing them both to go tumbling down the hill.

“Owwwww…” Remus whined, having crashed them both into a bush. Roman was rubbing at his head as well. “That one was your fault.”

“Remus, shhh.” Roman blinked, spotting something just beyond their crash landing. Remus was mercifully quiet, noticing Roman’s conspiring smile.

There, in a clearing just entering the forest, the twins spotted four individuals each hardly larger than their little hands. The group sat atop a circle of mushrooms, levitating tiny teacups between them and giggling as their wings danced in the sunlight.

“Fairies.” Roman whispered, as if it wasn’t already obvious.

“I want the green one.” Remus decided, pointing.

“That’s not green, that’s yellow.” Roman rolled his eyes.

“It’s green if I want it to be green.” Remus stuck up his nose.

“Uh oh.” Roman hushed. “I think they noticed us.”

Indeed, there had been a fluttering of wings, and now the fae were all glancing at the bush that served as their hiding space. The one dressed in periwinkle petals took a few steps forward, trying to peer into the darkness.

On three. Roman and Remus seemed to agree, nodding with their twin telepathy. One…two…

“AAAAAH!” Remus came charging out, startling all the little things so much that it was easy to dive and surround all of them. Roman lunged his arm out, grabbing the one closest to the bush in his fist.

“Don’t crush them!” Roman protested, standing to emerge from the bush. He watched as Remus scooped them all towards himself and made a sort of basket with the front of his shirt.

Remus giggled, his clothing wriggling as he held the makeshift pocket closed. “They tickle.”

Roman couldn’t help but agree. Just the one trying to flutter out of his hand tickled his fingers pleasantly with its nervous struggles. “Aww, you’re so cute!” Roman cooed, bringing the fairy higher. “It’s okay, little fairy, I’m not gonna hurtcha.”

“I’m gonna take these back to my room.” Remus decided, carefully beginning to waddle back up the hill.

“Our room- hey! You can’t have all three!” Roman’s arms swung at his sides, jostling the fairy as he ran to catch up with his brother.

“Finders Keepers.” Remus teased.

“Well, I found them, so then they’re all mine.” Roman argued.

“You can have one.” Remus relented, the twins by now used to sharing, even if Remus liked to take larger portions. “And not the green one.”

“Yellow one.” Roman stuck his arm out. “Wait, stop. You can’t go in the kitchen, mom will see us.”

“…to the window!” Remus cried instead, running towards the side of the house. Here the twins could look through the glass, seeing their room perfectly split in half. On one side the walls were red, with Roman’s golden bed pressed into a corner and an army of stuffies surrounding it like a true knight. On Remus’ side the walls were puke green, and had an assortment of beheaded stuffies that were both his own and any of Roman’s unfortunate enough to find themselves on Remus’ side of the bedroom.

“Ugh, it’s too heavy.” Roman grunted, trying to push open the window with one hand. “I can’t believe I’m saying this to you, but open your shirt, let me put this fairy in too.”

As much as Remus liked taking off his shirt, he shook his head. “No way! Then all of mine will fly away.”

“All of ours.” Roman growled, already sick and tired of how Remus was trying to claim his find. “So, then what are we gonna do? We can’t have this one flying away, but I need both my hands.”

“I know somewhere you can put it.” Remus’s tone was too mischievous to be taken seriously, and sure enough a moment later he opened his mouth wide. The fairy in Roman’s hand really began to panic then, its eyes wide and a string of chittering bell sounds frantically coming out.

“Stop it, you’re so gross!” Roman rolled his eyes. He thought about closing Remus’s mouth himself, but feared being licked. Remus just laughed, amused at both reactions.

“Alright, um…” Roman looked down at himself, trying to find a solution. His pants had pockets, but none with buttons so surely the fairy could just fly right out. Instead Roman set the fairy on the ground, raising his foot up. The fairy gave a shriek so high-pitched it hurt Roman’s ears, but he just gently set his shoe down so that he was pining the fairy by the wing.

“There!” Roman smiled, proud of his solution as he stood back up. Roman tried to keep his footing secure, not wanting to slip and fall onto the actual fairy as he pushed against the bottom of the window. Finally the panel slid open, leaving a gap big enough for a child to climb inside.

“Me first!” Remus declared, shoving Roman aside to clamber on in. Roman pinwheeled his arms, trying to keep his balance. The boy managed to stay upright, but in his fight to do so Roman felt his foot twist, and the fairy gave another wail.

“oh no!” Roman sunk to the ground, quickly gathering up his fairy. His heart sank, seeing there was now a large tear along what had once been a pair of beautiful, shimmering iridescent wings. “Oh little fairy, I’m so sorry…” Roman’s sadness turned to anger, the boy climbing through the window with the tiny person cradled to his chest. “Remus, you dung beetle, you broke him!”

“Not my fault.” Remus shrugged, looking unapologetic. “You stepped on him.”

Roman kept muttering curses at his brother, setting his fairy on the window ledge while he closed the window. At least he didn’t have to worry about him flying away again.

“Don’t worry little fairy, I’ll help you.” Roman assured him, rushing over to his crafting table. He shoved the mess to the side, clearing a space as paints and glitters tumbled everywhere. “Nurse!”

“Nurse yourself.” Remus responded, busy on his side of the room dumping the other fairies into a pillowcase. He tied it up, giving the container a few shakes for good measure.

Roman grabbed the craft glue, pining the injured wing down with his fingers. The fairy tried to pull away but Roman just shushed him, smearing the sticky substance all over the rip. “Ugh, Remy, you’ve ruined it! His wing doesn’t look pretty anymore.”

“Can I have it then?” Remy came over, peering over Roman’s shoulder. The struggling case was dragged along at his side.

“No, he’s still the prettiest.” Roman declared, pulling out some rainbow glitter. He opened the bottle, dumping the contents onto the glue. “There. It’s…better.”

“It looks gross.” Remus stuck out his tongue.

“Whatever, you’re gross.” Roman looked at the pillowcase. “Remus, let them out, they’re gonna suffocate.”

“You promise?” Remus teased, but the two boys went over to Roman’s bed that was much more clean for the occasion. Remus gave the bag another shake, making sure the fairies were disoriented before dumping them onto the bed.

“I call the purple one- OW!” Roman flinched back, cradling his wrist to his chest. “It bit me!”

“Good boy.” Remus gave a pleased smile, grabbing the purple one to dangle by its leg so its teeth were out of reach. His other hand had possessively grabbed the yellow one, pressing it happily to his cheek.

“Whatever, you can have your messed up fairies.” Roman grabbed the last one, all dressed in dark blue. He seemed to match Roman’s other fairy anyways, almost as if they were meant to be a pair. “Aww, aren’t you cute~? I’m gonna make a home for my lil’ guys.”

“They’re not gonna want to live in one of your creations.” Remus gagged, thinking of his brother’s gaudy structures.

“They’re not gonna live at all if you try to make them a home.” Roman had seen Remus’ handiwork in the past. His dollhouses tended to be more like deathtraps, while Roman liked to make them into mansions.

“Is that a challenge?” Remus smirked. He wiggled the purple one back and forth. “Wanna test your luck in the death castle, little fairy?” The fairy hissed at him.

“Now-“ Roman used his decree-ing voice, sounding very official as he carried the blue one back to the crafting table. “If you two are going to be living together, we simply must have a wedding first.” Roman wasn’t sure if that was a rule, but it certainly should be in his opinion. Who doesn’t want a wedding? Why aren’t there weddings every day, anyhow? Roman had been asking such questions ever since the family attended the ceremony of a distant cousin earlier in the month, and his parents never seemed to give him a straight answer.

“Those are both boy fairies.” Remus pointed out. “You can’t have a wedding.”

“Boys can love boys!” Roman stomped his foot. He would just have to improvise. Roman grabbed his wedding dolls from his bin, holding the dark blue fairy underneath his leg while he worked to undress the dolls. Satisfied, Roman took the fae and shoved him into the tuxedo.

“He looks ridiculous.” Remus gaffed, watching as he sat cross-legged on Roman’s bed.

“Get off my side, you cretin!” Roman screeched, pointing to the other half of the room. Remus rolled off the bed, hurrying over to his side.

“Now, what to do with you?” Remus hummed, holding out both his fairies upside down. The purple one had begun to look a bit purple in the face, being held upside down so long. In fact, like this, Remus thought he almost looked like a popsicle.

What do fairies taste like, anyhow? Remus wondered, turning his fists upside right again to gain a better grip. Remus was no stranger to putting things in his mouth; he was a very curious child and would often test what things were by giving them a good lick. It was not surprising by this point in his life that Remus had consumed quite a large amount of dirt.

So, once the question entered his brain, Remus knew he needed answers. He lifted both of his hands, weighing them like a scale to decide who should go first. Of course, it was really no question, considering Remus had a favorite.

“Ah~” Remus let his tongue hang out of his mouth, bringing the yellow-green one up to his mouth and giving the fairy a big lick. Remus recoiled at the bitter taste, but the fairy’s reaction alone made it worth it. His hair stuck up wildly from Remus’s saliva, eyes wide with shock and mouth forming a perfect ‘o’. Remus gave a large belly laugh, nearly toppling over in his amusement.

“Alright, your turn.” Remus taunted, raising the purple one above his head to dangle above his mouth. It was already flailing, and Remus felt pleasure in watching its struggles increase as he lowered it in.

“Your turn for-? REMUS!” Roman shrieked, looking over to see Remus sucking on something and a pair of purple legs kicking wildly outside his lips. “Spit him out!”

“Mm-mm!” Remus shook his head, and though he cringed at the terrible flavor Remus couldn’t help but smirk triumphantly at his brother through his pain.

“I am not letting you anywhere near mine if that’s how you treat them.” Roman huffed, turning back to his work. The injured one seemed to be glued to the table, and Roman was trying to scrape it up with the edge of a paintbrush. The dark blue one was impatiently waiting in the overturned paint jar, pounding on the glass to get Roman’s attention.

Finally Remus spat the purple one back into his hand. It shivered in the air-conditioned environment, probably extra cold now that he was drenched in spit.

“Alright fairies.” Remus used his own voice of decrees, stomping over to his train table. “I think I know another game we can play.”

“Again, if you lose yours, that’s it.” Roman insisted, shoving a struggling periwinkle fairy into a wedding dress. The outfit had once been white, but Roman had long since scribbled over it in a rainbow of marker to try to make the ensemble less boring.

“They can take it.” Remus shrugged, pulling out some string. He disconnected a piece of track, tying the fairies to it with practiced ease. This was a common game they played, with Roman playing the heroes trying to save the damsel dolls tied to the tracks and Remus being the constructor urging the train on. When they played on Remus’ half of the room, the dolls often lost.

“Wait a minute, I’m nearly done!” Roman whined, not wanting to miss it despite himself. He threw some paper confetti into the air, watching it sprinkle down. “Okay, you’re married. Nowwww, kiss.” Roman took a fairy in each hand, shoving their little faces together a couple times to imitate a kissing motion. Their noses scrunched up, but Roman thought their lips touched once so that was good enough. “Okay my hero husbands are ready!”

“And my victims are ready.” Remus placed the track back into place. He grabbed the controller, turning on the train. The lights turned on and the machine’s whistle sounded, making both fairies tied to the tracks begin to squirm.

“Hey, maybe they actually stand a chance!” Roman perked up, excited by the idea of a happy ending. “I’ll set my fairies down, and we’ll see if they can untie them in time.”

“Fine by me.” Remus shrugged, already chugging his train along at full force. The rumbles it sent through the tracks made the struggles increase.

“Alright, go little fairies.” Roman urged, setting his blue fairies down. Instantly both fairies began tugging at the ropes, trying to save their friends. “So, how do we know if they lose?”

“The train crashes into them.” Remus grinned.

“Remuuuuuus.” Roman groaned. “You can’t do that! We don’t want to hurt them.”

“It probably won’t hurt them.” Remus lied, pushing the train to go even faster. He pressed the whistle again, watching all four tiny people jump. The train was getting closer, the clacking making the fairies’ hands slip as they struggled to undo Remus’ solid knots.

Roman bit his lip, trying to judge how far away the train was. If Remus was going to act all stupid again, Roman didn’t want his fairies to end up in harm’s way. The train rounded the corner, and seeing that the knots were nowhere near undone Roman quickly gathered up his fairies for safety. Both of them struggled, trying to get back onto the tracks the silly things.

“Choo choo!” Remus declared, driving the train full steam ahead. In three…two…one…

“Haha!” “Aww….”

Both boys had very different reactions when the train rammed into the fairy’s side, only to harmlessly bounce off onto the tracks. Just like with the dolls, the train was just not strong enough to drive straight through and likely did no more damage than a little bruising to the yellow one.

“Fate chooses the side of good once again!” Roman gave a victory fist pump.

“For now.” Remus bent over, untying his living toys. He wasn’t that upset the train hadn’t worked; it only meant he could have even more fun with his fairies.

[animeniacss]

6 Years - Hoseok x Reader - Chapter 19 - The Emotions of a Child

Synopsis: 6 years. That’s all it can take to take another look at someone and see that they have completely changed. You were once an eager 20-year-old, with your dreams all in view, and Jung Hoseok at your side to view them with you. However, after a break up the end of your junior year of college, everything seemed different. Now, you’re a recently divorced single mother of two, and your life is nowhere near what you thought it would be. However, after reuniting with Jung Hoseok, you may just be able to capture a little bit of that exciting youth you once knew so long ago.

Feat. BTS Members, Nayeon (TWICE), and Yuna (itzy) 

Genre: Romance, SingleMother!AU, Past Relationship, Drama, Some Depictions of Violence/Domestic Abuse

Length: approx. 5.5k words 

Chapter 19 - The Emotions of a Child 

           “Mommy! Look!” Min Ja cheered as she saw you by the front entrance of her school with both Hoseok and So-Hee. The three of you had been talking together as you waited for the kindergarteners to be let out, and we alerted by the sound of their shouting. Min Ja ran up to you, a paper clutched tightly in her hands. It had been one week since Min Ja had her off day since Weong-Bin had tried to sink his controlling teeth in his little girl. Though he wasn’t giving up just yet, Min Ja had pretty much returned to her normal self, despite a few setbacks. Maybe Hoseok was right, she was going through a separation phase from her Dad. As your daughter finally reached you, you knelt down to meet her as she practically jumped into your arms.

           “What is it?” You asked curiously. Min Ja held out the rolled-up paper in her hand to you, and you took it, standing up to roll it open. So-Hee was doing the same with San-Ha’s picture. Upon opening it, you saw the family portrait she had drawn. The one with you, her, and Hyo Bin, and Weong-Bin standing by his house. As you looked it over, you noticed something that wasn’t there the morning you had placed it into her backpack. Beside Min Ja, stood a man with some wavy dark hair, and a little heart-shaped smile as he and Min Ja held their little stick figure hands. On top of the paper was a big star and smiley sticker placed there by the teacher for a job well done. “Oh wow…” you smiled. “You did such a good job!”

           “Show Mr. Hobi too!” She begged. Without even waiting, she took hold of Hoseok’s arm. “Mr. Hobi, look!”

           “Okay, okay.” He smiled, leaning over to take a glance at the picture. “Wow! A star and a sticker? Augh, I’m jealous!” He said and saw out of the corner of his eye, Min Ja’s eyes light up. As he continued to look, he noticed the little stick figure depiction of himself and blinked. For a moment, he felt his chest tighten a bit, and he glanced up at you. You looked over at him too, giggling. “Aww, you added me in there too?”

           “Yeah, I did.” Min Ja said happily. “I did it right before school, so it’s a little bit smudgy. I’m sorry.” Hoseok chuckled, kneeling down and offering Min Ja a smile. She smiled back at him as she fixed her two pigtails. “Do you like it still?”

           “I love it~.” He said happily, offering his arms out. “You’re the sweetest.” Min Ja, of course, didn’t hesitate and jumped into Hoseok’s arms just like she always did. So-Hee also looked over her shoulder at the picture, then to you.

           “Oh my God, my heart…” she sighed. “That’s so precious.”

           “I know.” You said, rolling the picture up. “I’m so glad the girls like him…”

           “Tell me you’ve mentioned moving in.” She begged softly, so Hoseok wouldn’t hear. The thought of it made you let out a frustrated sigh, and you glanced at her.

           “Hoseok thinks she’s going through a bit of a separation phase since she doesn’t see her dad a lot. She keeps asking me about him and when he’s going to come back into our family, it’s been going on all week. I don’t know what to do. But Hoseok thinks moving in now will make it worse, so we’re going to wait.” So-Hee sighed as well, just hearing that made her sympathize.

           “That must be so rough. But I’m sure she’ll get through it. San-Ha went through something similar when her father started going on more business trips last year. Constantly sad, asking about him every minute of every day, wanting to call him. She even tried to pack her bags and move in with him.” You chuckled.

           “Yeah, but your husband is a good man who still comes home. My ex is the exact opposite. I just don’t know the best way to help her.”

           “Ever think about family counseling?” she asked.

           “I tried.” You said. “Right before the divorce, I tried. Didn’t work.” So-Hee smiled,

           “Well, I’m here if you need me.” She offered, placing a supportive hand on your shoulder. It made you comfortable, and a smile formed on your face. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She said. “San-Ha, time to go.” She called, and the girls looked up.

           “Bye, Min Ja.” San-Ha waved. Min Ja waved back before watching her friend hurry up to her mom. “Bye, Miss. Cho.” She said, looking up to you. You offered her a wave, before watching her take her mother's hand and the two-headed off.

           “Mommy, can we hang up a picture in my room?” Min Ja asked curiously, taking your hand.

           “Of course, we can~.” You said happily, her hand clutched tightly in yours as the three of you headed off school grounds and back to the house.

           After picking up Hyo Bin and arriving back home, the four of you just took some time to relax after a long day of work. Hoseok had found himself napping on the couch before having to go in for his afternoon lessons, and you had helped Min Ja hangs her picture up in the bedroom. She was very picky though, wanting it in the perfect spot, leaving you shuffling side to side for a good ten minutes as she examined it with a fine eye, like an interior designer.

           “Right there!” She finally shouted, and you had to quickly shush her so she wouldn’t wake up Hoseok. “Sorry…” she whispered. As she watched you tape up the picture, she picked up Hyo Bin as high as she could and walked over to it. “Look, Hyo Bin, that’s me, and that’s you.” She said. Hyo Bin looked up at the picture, which was at a level low enough for Min Ja to see pretty well, but Hyo Bin needed to be lifted. “See? And there’s Mommy and Mr. Hobi.” Hyo Bin looked at the picture, before pointing to Weong-Bin on the other side.

           “Daddy!” She said quickly. Min Ja shuffled over, struggling to hold her toddler sister. “There’s Daddy!” You took this moment of the two of them occupying themselves to sit on the floor and watch them. You didn’t do it much, but you just loved it when you could sit and watch them do whatever it was sisters did. Up until your mother remarried and you gained Taehyung as a little brother, even then it wasn’t really little, you were 15 and he was 14, you were an only child. These moments of childlike bliss with a sibling were something you never got to experience, but you were glad to be finally able to give Min Ja someone like that through Hyo Bin.

           As you sat and watched the duo look at the picture, Min Ja looked over at you.

           “Mommy…” she hummed as she walked over to you, and fit herself perfectly into your lap. “Can I call Daddy?” You blinked, glancing down at her. “I want to tell him all about school.”

           “…Okay.” You dug into your pocket and pulled out your cellphone. “I think he’s at work still, but we can try.” Min Ja waited anxiously as she watched you dial his number, then handed her the phone, which she pressed to her ear. You listened in too, until you heard the muffled “Hello” from Weong-Bin, and saw Min Ja perk up in excitement.

           “Hi Daddy!” She said happily, and Hyo Bin was soon to follow with her greeting. Weong-Bin laughed a bit.

           “Hi, girls. What made you want to call me?”

           “I miss you, Daddy…” Min Ja said. “So, Mommy said I could call you.”

           “Aww, that’s really nice, I miss you too.” He said. “But I’m at work right now, so we can only talk for a few minutes, okay?” Min Ja agreed, before quickly diving into her entire school day with him, not leaving out any detail that came to her mind. She told him about her friends and her playing outside, all the news words they learned how to write, and how she got a star and a sticker on her family picture. She just seemed so happy talking to him, she always was. But this time felt so different, for some reason. You really couldn’t put your finger on why, but it didn’t seem like it was only this phase that had her so eager to be around her dad. She always seemed pretty content with her life, though she never fully seemed to understand the situation revolving around your divorce. As a few minutes ticked away, Weong-Bin let out a sad sigh. “Okay, honey, I need to go.” He heard Min Ja and Hyo Bin whine on the phone. “Awww, I know.” He said. “I promise, I’ll call you both later. Plus, this weekend is our weekend so I’ll see you really, really soon!”

           “But that’s a few days away, I want to see you now.” Min Ja pouted.

           “I know, honey, but remember what we talked about right?” He hummed gently. Min Ja looked over her shoulder at you, and you offered her a kind smile in return. “I promise I’ll see you really, really soon.”

           “Okay, bye Daddy.” Min Ja said.

           “Bye, Daddy.” Hyo Bin repeated. Weong-Bin bid his own farewell before Min Ja hung up the phone and handed it back to you. When she turned to face you, you could see her eyes were turning red and her lip was quivering. Setting the phone down, you ran a hand through Min Ja’s hair.

           “Min Ja, what’s wrong?” you asked softly, holding her close to you.

           “I just really miss Daddy…” she sniffled into your chest. “I wish I could see him every day like I see you….” You felt a tug at your heartstrings, a wave of guilt wash over you as you held her close, rubbing her back. You didn’t know what you could possibly say to her in hopes of improving her mood.

           “I…I know you do, honey. I’m sure he wishes the same thing. But…things happen that sometimes we can’t control, you know?” Min Ja sniffled, and you knew you weren’t in a proper headset to have an emotionally taxing talk with your daughter right now. All you could do was rub her back and try your best to calm her down a bit.

           That night, Hoseok had come over after his meeting and an impromptu dance lesson with his favorite group of college dancers and was drained. He had arrived after the girls had fallen asleep, so you heated him up something to eat and both of you had collapsed in bed. You had told him about Min Ja, and how she had been upset the rest of the day after her phone call with Weong-Bin. You also told him that no matter how hard you had tried; you couldn’t explain the situation to her in a way that seemed to help. When you tried to explain that you and Weong-Bin were divorced, it only made her sadder. You didn’t even dare bring up Hoseok, even though she did know the two of you were dating, she didn’t seem to fully understand that Weong-Bin coming back and having Hoseok remain in their lives were two things that could not co-exist. Hoseok soothed you about it, assuring you that it would all blow over, and Min Ja would grow out of it as she got older, and the two of you fell asleep.

           In the next room, Min Ja stirred around 3 a.m. Her eyes flew open, and she stared into the dark room, trying to get her mind together as best as she could. She couldn’t remember what woke her up if it was a dream of just her own body, but all she knew was that she was shaking. Quickly, she got out of bed and hurried into your bedroom. She tried to be quiet as she pushed the door open enough for her to slide in. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw two figures in bed. She knew one was you, but when she saw the other, she felt a sense of excitement wash over her.

           Daddy? She thought as she went to that side of the bed. She quickly turned on the bedside lamp, light shining into the room. She heard a grunt, and she when looked over, she saw Hoseok roll over to face her. That excited feeling, she had washed away for a moment, and Hoseok sat up.

           “Min Ja…” he said softly, rubbing his eyes.  He glanced over to you, seeing that despite the entrance of light in the room, you remained undisturbed, deep in sleep. When he saw that, he quietly exited the bed and knelt down. “What’s wrong?” He could see her eyes were glossy now.

           “I…thought you were my Daddy…” she said softly. Hoseok sighed softly, reaching out to wipe her eyes.

           “I’m sorry, Min Ja.” he said. After a moment of silence, he smiled. “How about we go to the kitchen and have some warm milk, hm? That always puts me to sleep.” Min Ja nodded a bit, and Hoseok got up, turning off the light in the room and quietly leading her out into the kitchen. Once inside, she took a seat at the table while Hoseok put some milk in the microwave for her. While it warmed up, he knelt down beside her. “Now, what woke you up in the middle of the night?”

           “I don’t know. I just woke up and my heart was hurting. I think I had a nightmare…” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “But I can’t remember…” Hoseok smiled.

           “Aaah, I hate when that happens.” He said.

           “You get nightmares, Mr. Hobi?” she asked curiously.

           “Of course. All the time. Your Mom even has to help me get over them sometimes, when they’re really scary.” Min Ja giggled a bit. Right before the microwave let out a high-pitched beep, Hoseok got up and opened the microwave, taking out the milk and setting the cup by Min Ja. “Careful, just in case it’s a bit hot.” He said. Min Ja sat and looked at the milk silently for a few moments, before her little hands finally reached out and took it, lifting it up and taking it to sip. “Good?” he asked. Min Ja nodded, and Hoseok pulled up a chair beside her. “Good~.” He sat for a few moments, watching her silently drink the milk. “…Min Ja.” he hummed softly, and she looked over. “Is there anything else I can do to make you feel better?”

           “I don’t know. My head hurts and I don’t know why…”

           “Mommy told me you had a rough day after school today. Is that maybe why?”

           “Maybe…” she said softly. “But I think I’m being sad a lot now.”

           “Is it because you still miss your Dad?” He asked. Min Ja hesitated, but eventually gave a slight nod.

           “Yeah, a little. I see him soon, and I’m excited. I miss him a lot. When I don’t see him, it makes me really, super sad.”

           “Awww, well, I’m sorry to hear that.” He said.  “But other than that, you don’t know why you’re so sad?” Min Ja shrugged. In a way, she may know, but she couldn’t put it together yet. All she knew was that she was sad right now, but she was also happy. It was weird. “Maybe your Mom can help you. Do you want to talk to her tomorrow?”

           “Mommy got sad today too, because I was sad. I don’t want her to be sad, too…” she said sadly. Hoseok smiled, ruffling her hair.

           “Well if you ever find out why you’re sad, we’re here to listen to you and make you feel better, okay?” he said. Min Ja nodded, and she took another sip of her milk. Hoseok could see her eyes were getting heavy after a few minutes, and he stood up. “Let’s get you back to bed.” He suggested, lifting her up in his arms. She nuzzled into him as her eyes began to close more. Hoseok lied her in bed, pulling the covers over her and making her that she was holding her stuffed animal as she began to fall asleep. “Goodnight.” He said gently. She mumbled an incoherent goodnight, and it wasn’t long until she was back to sleep. Feeling content, Hoseok left the room and returned to yours. Upon entering, he saw that you were sitting up, rubbing your eyes.

           “Is everything okay?” you asked softly. Hoseok smiled, crawling back into bed and kissing you quickly.

           “Everything is fine. Just go back to sleep for now.” He assured. You watched him lie back down and turn off the lights. As you lied down as well, you closed your eyes again.

           The minute that light turned on, you were snapped right awake. With the house being so small and so quiet, you heard everything the two of them were talking about. It killed you that you didn’t know what to do.            

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

           “So-Hee, I don’t know what to do.” You said, leaning back in your chair. So-Hee had come over for a playdate, and Nayeon had stopped by as well, and the three of you found yourselves in the kitchen while the girls were in the playroom together. You all were talking over a cup of tea, well, it was mostly you, So-Hee and Nayeon was just listening. “I want to help her but she keeps saying she wants Weong-Bin to do that. I’ve tried to explain why he can’t, but…I guess I’m not getting it across to her.” You ran a hand through your hair. “Min Ja is a smart girl, I know she’s seen me and Weong-Bin fighting before I just…I know it’s still her father but how do I tell her he can’t come back?” Lowering the cup of tea from her lips, Nayeon took a deep breath.

           “You’re going to have to be straight forward with Weong-Bin, has he said anything to her about this?” She asked curiously.

           “I have no idea.” You said. “They’re seeing him this weekend so hopefully he will try to explain it to her. Whenever I do, she just starts freaking out and asking even more questions.” The girls could see how stressed and overwhelmed this was starting to become for you as you rest your elbows on the table, digging your hands in your hair.

           “Hey…” So-Hee hummed, reaching out to take your hand out of your hair and grip securely onto your hand. “It’s going to be fine. Stressing out is not going to make Min Ja anymore secure. If she sees you’re getting anxious, it’ll only make the girls more anxious.”

           “I know, I know…” you groaned. “I just wish I knew what I could do to make her understand. What am I supposed to say? ‘Your Daddy slams me against walls and calls me horrible names, he’s lucky he doesn’t see you, girls, through a plate-glass window in a prison?’” You heard your friends chuckle a bit as your attempt of a joke, and it made you force a smile of your own. “Every time I try to explain it, I just think…what will Weong-Bin say when he finds out?”

           “Weong-Bin is a lot of things, but he seems to love his kids a lot. I’m sure if you explain to him that she’s feeling this way and it’s making her anxious, he’ll do what he has to so she stops feeling that way.” Nayeon said simply. “All you can do is talk to him and the two of you come to an agreement on how you’ll help Min Ja through this. You may be divorced, but you’re both still her parents…”

           “Alright…” you said softly. “I’ll talk to him when he picks up the kids Friday night…” you said softly. “That’s all I can do. I want her to move on from this because I don’t want to make it worse for her if I ask Hoseok to move in with us again.” Nayeon smiled.

           “It’ll all happen in time. Hoseok isn’t going anywhere.” She assured.

           “I know…” Just as you leaned back in your seat, you lifted up your cup and put the tea to your mouth, taking a sip, you heard the door to the girl’s room open. Glancing over, you saw Min Ja, Hyo Bin, and San-Ha rush out the door, giggling constantly. When they came into view, they were dressed head to toe in whatever they could grab from the girl’s dress-up box. Min Ja had on a colorful tutu, her neck covered in about 3 different colored beaded necklaces, and a sideways crown on her head. She wore an old pair of shoes that you gave them when they got too small for you, and each ring looked like it had a ring on it. Hyo Bin was only in an oversized dress, her entire body swallowed up by the massive fabric. San-Ha was in a princess veil, massive green sunglasses, and long purple gloves. They were unable to stop their laughter as they spun around to show you their outfits.

           “Look Mommy!” Min Ja shouted. “We’re playing dress-up!” Seeing her wide, gap-tooth smile made you unable to hold back one of your own.

           “Wow, you look so pretty! I love glasses, San-Ha.” The little girl giggled.

           “I need a picture.” So-Hee laughed, grabbing her phone and kneeling down to snap a photo of the three girls. You lifted up your phone and did the same, making sure to send one to Hoseok, in hopes of giving him a pick-me-up to get through work. He and Jimin were swimming in business meetings and other discussions about monthly budgets and competition funds, so he was pretty busy recently, and you tried to share pictures when you could to get him through the day.

           “Can we have pizza for lunch, Mommy?” San-Ha asked curiously.

           “Pizza?” So-Hee asked, checking the time. “That sounds good. How about we all go out and get some?” The girls cheered in excitement as So-Hee turned to you. “My treat?”

           “Oh stop, I invited you here, let me pay.” You sighed. “Girls, go take off the dress-up clothes and then we’ll go.” With the excitement of pizza filling their heads, they hurried back into the playroom, Hyo Bin shuffling behind in her long dress before Min Ja went back to take her hand and help her inside. Getting out of your seat, you collected the teacups and put them into the sink. You were hoping that talking to Weong-Bin would help you handle this situation more, and would help Min Ja settle whatever confusing emotions were inside of her.

           God, I hope Weong-Bin can be civil just this once so we can handle this in peace.

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

           The sound of the doorbell ringing through the apartment almost sent you into cardiac arrest. It sounded so much louder this time than it normally did. As you got up from the couch, you saw Min Ja bolt to the door and reach to unlock it, flinging it open to see her father standing at the door.

           “Daddy!” She shouted in glee, pouncing on him. He grinned as he scooped her up into his arms, spinning her around. “I missed you so, so much!”

           “I missed you too, honey.” He said, looking up. He saw you standing by the door as well. “Where’s Hyo Bin?”

           “Mr. Hobi is helping her put everything into our bags.” Min Ja smiled happily. You immediately saw Weong-Bin frown a bit, his eyes falling to you.

           “…Min Ja.” you said quickly. “Why don’t we go tell them that it’s time to go, huh?” Min Ja nodded, looking at her dad.

           “I want to show you my picture from school.” She said, grinning as Weong-Bin smiled.

           “Okay, lead the way.” He set her down, and she took his hand as she led him inside her bedroom, you following right behind. Upon entering the room, you guys saw Hoseok and Hyo Bin sitting on the floor, Hyo Bin running back and forth as she kept handing him things. If it was good to pack, he put it in the bag, if it wasn’t, he would fling it behind his back, making Hyo Bin burst into laughter. She had just run up to him, handing him one of her pillows.

           “Hm…nope!” He grinned, flinging it behind his back. Hyo Bin let out a burst of guttural laughter as she hurried back to her bed. When Hoseok saw you three enter the room, he looked up. “Oh, hello~.” He smiled happily. When he saw Hyo Bin's approach, he saw her holding her blanket. “Okay, here we go. Let’s put this in and you’re all set, okay?” Hyo Bin nodded, and Hoseok playfully poked her nose, making her giggle. Weong-Bin took a deep breath as he saw Hoseok walk over to him. “Hello, Weong-Bin.” He said simply. Weong-Bin nodded.

           “Hello…” he said.

           “Daddy, look!” Min Ja tugged at his arm as she pointed to the picture on the wall. Weong-Bin walked over to it, lifting Hyo Bin up in his arms so she could look too. “My teacher really liked my picture! She said it was very detailed.” His eyes scanned the picture, and he saw four people standing in front of the house, a boy and three girls. Then, he caught a glimpse of the other male on the other end of the picture, standing alone in front of a big house with a brown briefcase. That must be him, which meant the male holding Min Ja’s hand was Hoseok. He glanced over, seeing Hoseok and you standing by the front door and watching as Min Ja show her father every detail about her picture.

           “That’s lovely, Min Ja.” he said, putting a hand on her head. She glanced up at him and smiled happily. “Alright, we should get going, okay? Say goodbye.” Min Ja said her goodbyes to you and Hoseok, giving you both tight hugs. When you walked to the door, watching Weong-Bin gather the girl's belongings and helping them put on their shoes, you stopped.

           “Weong-Bin, I need to talk to you.” You said quickly, and he glanced up. A smile formed on his face as he knelt down, putting Hyo Bin on the floor before you led him into the hallway, towards your bedroom. Once you knew that the kids were out of earshot, you turned to him. “Min Ja has been…acting really weird recently. At first, she was all soft-spoken and reserved, and I guess Hoseok talked to her and it started to help. But she’s starting to get weird again.” You said. “I’m sure you’ve noticed; she wants to call you more often and she’s always asking me when she can see you.”

           “You think that’s weird?” He asked, and you could hear the annoyance in his voice.

           “N-not weird.” You said. “Just…well, she’s been acting strangely in general. She asks me why you can’t come live with us anymore.”

           “What have you told her?”

           “I’ve tried to explain it to her, but I don’t think I’m getting it through to her. I think she’s going through a separation phase, that’s what Hoseok said. Could you maybe just talk to her? Try to explain it to her in a way she can understand. I want us to be on the same page with this, it’s really starting to heighten her anxiety. Just tell me you’ll talk to her.” Weong-Bin felt a grin wanting to form on his face, but he forced it away.

           “I’ll talk to her.” He assured, putting a hand on your shoulder. You let out a deep sigh and nodded, smiling at him a bit. With that set, the both of you headed inside the living room again. “Okay! We ready?” He asked, and his girls nodded. “Awesome~. Alright, guys.” He took both of their hands, and they all said their goodbyes before heading out. Hoseok closed the door and turned to you. He could see you looked a bit uneasy, so he walked over to you, pulling you into a tight hug.

           “Aaah, it’ll all work out. Don’t worry about it.” He assured. You nodded, tightening your grip on him.

           “I just hope he says the right things to her.”

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

           That night, when Hyo Bin had fallen asleep, Weong-Bin sat Min Ja down on her bed and set himself beside her. He ran a hand through her hair, and she rested up against him. He was listening to her read a few of her books to practice her fluency, but he was also thinking. Though it seemed what he had told Min Ja was working, Hoseok was trying to undo whatever Weong-Bin was trying to set into place. Whether it was intentional or not, having Hoseok around Min Ja was going to make everything and anything he said to his daughter render worthless.

           Damn that stupid grin of his. He thinks he’s some fucking saint. He thought to himself. As he heard Min Ja finish up her story, she closed the book and set it aside.

           “Good job, sweetie.” He said, smiling down at her. “Now, I and you need to talk again, okay?” Min Ja looked up at her dad and frowned.

           “Oh no…” she said softly. “Did I do something bad?”

           “Something bad? No, no.” He assured, rubbing her back soothingly. “But we have a problem. Mommy wants me to talk to you. She said you’re telling her that you want me to move back in.”

           “Yeah, I’m sorry…” she said, remembering his request not to say anything.

           “No, that’s good!” He said quickly, making her lookup. “I want to move back in with you and Mommy, so if you say it too, it might change her mind about it. We just can’t tell her that we’re talking about it in secret.” He could see the wheels in Min Ja’s head beginning to turn, so he continued. “Hobi is making it very, very hard for me, Min Ja. I think he’s doing it on purpose.”

           “…On purpose?”

           “Yeah. He doesn’t want us to be a family anymore…” He sighed, looking down at her. “He doesn’t know how lonely I am here, and how much I miss you.”

           “Well…then maybe you can tell him that. Mr. Hobi is really, really nice when I tell him things that make me sad. Like once, he screamed during a movie and it woke me up. I told him not to do it anymore, and he promised he wouldn’t.” Weong-Bin groaned, and when Min Ja heard it, her heart began to race.

           “Well, this is different.” He said simply. “Mr. Hobi and I both love your Mommy very much, but I loved your Mommy first. Mr. Hobi is being very selfish with what he’s doing…” He held her close. “I just wish I could see you every night, and we could lie down like this until you go to bed all the time, and read stories. Wouldn’t you like that?” Min Ja felt a lump in her throat.

           “Y-yeah…” she said softly. “But Mr. Hobi is nice, I….” she looked down at her lap, remembering what he had told her a week ago.

           I know I’m not your dad, but you and Hyo Bin mean a lot to me.

           “Min Ja.” Weong-Bin said simply. “Didn’t I say it makes me sad when you don’t trust me?” he asked gently. Min Ja nodded again and ran a hand across her eyes. “I only want what’s best for you, and that would be us being a family again. I can’t spend any more nights at home all by myself, it makes me really sad…” Min Ja glanced up at him. “And I’ve known Mr. Hobi a long time, so I know him really well and it makes me even sadder that you don’t trust me…when all I want is to make us a family again…” Min Ja couldn’t hold her tears back anymore.

           “I’m sorry, Daddy…” she said softly. “I trust you. I really, really do. I’m sorry.” Weong-Bin looked down at her, wiping her eyes as she sniffled and whimpered.

           “I’m so happy you do, Min Ja. You know I love you very much, right?” he asked. Min Ja nodded, hugging her dad tightly. “I promise, really soon I’ll be living in your house again and we’re going to be a happy family.”

           “Okay, Daddy…” she said softly, nuzzling into his hug. As she felt Weong-Bin lie her down in bed, and kiss her goodnight, he left her alone. As she lied in her bed, staring at the ceiling, she felt her heart racing. She thought that everything was okay now, she had felt a lot better after she drew Hoseok in her picture, and everything felt as if it was going back to normal.

           Why did her Daddy make everything in her heart and head hurt so bad?

Return to Masterlist

Next / Previous

[tremendoussaladtyrant]

Coughs and Cuddles - Marauders Era - Young Sirius Black x Reader

Hey, I did not have time to proof read this but I wants to get it up so pre warning there will probably be some tiny mistakes due to this being a 1st draft. Now without further a do here is the synopsis for all you people who like me, like to know what they are reading before they read it: 

Synopsis- The reader (gender neutral) is ill and the Marauders, especially James, are teasing them about it. Fluff between Sirius and the reader as they are dating.

Okay now be free to read... 

"I'm fine" You murmur. To further your point, you elongate the final word; dragging the 'n' out until your content that you have expressed your 'fine-ness' thoroughly.

     You then proceed to direct your eyes away from the boys perched haphazardly around the boy's dorm room, that happened to be empty from everyone excluding yourself and three of the marauders. Your eyes wander the room catching on a rouge jelly bean laying on the somewhat dusty ground under James's bed. Eyes following your gaze, James repositions himself to peer under his bed and he sets his sights upon the bean. He then moves so that his front dangles precariously from his prestigious, four-poster bed and his palms press onto the floor; keeping himself from ploughing face-first into the dark oak boards. Removing one hand from the floor, James fishes under the bed blindly; eventually, gasping the bean tightly in one hand. He then manages to withdraw back onto the bed without much trouble. Triumphantly, he looks upon the bean, hazel orbs scintillating with delight. He places it inside his mouth just as you both make eye contact, and he lopsidedly grins at you, dimples appearing. This elicits a groan of disgust from your parted lips that quickly mutates into a ferocious coughing fit that makes the bed you are currently sprawled across shudder beneath you. Diverting his attention from his book, Remus who is sitting on a chair next to Sirius's bed and subsequently, you, pats your back in an attempt at helping.

     "James, that was disgusting" Remus scolds, withdrawing his hand from your back as your coughing slows to a stop.

     "All in good fun Reme," James says teasingly, smirking as Remus's eyes narrow in slits.

     "You know full well I hate it when you call me that".

     "aw, is Mooney mad" James mocks, grinning.  Ignoring him, Remus's attention goes back to his book and seeing this, James, turns back to you; deciding to taunt you would serve better to his interests.

     "I'm fine" he mimics, abysmally failing at gaining any likeness to your voice in his impression of you. “I'm (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N), and I’m feeling superbly, no, wait,  splendiferously fine on this majestic sunny day”

     Scrunching up your nose at him, you proceed to bury yourself deeper into the obis of blankets stacked upon Sirius's bed. You reply, “A. I don’t sound like that and B. I am superbly, no, wait, splendiferously fine so suck my big toe” your voice coming out weaker than you had expected it to.

     Letting out a hearty laugh, James continues his teasing, “So you don’t mind if I open the curtains then do you?” he questions his voice amusement laced and his mouth curving into a devilish grin.

“No, go ahead” you sneer back, half-heartedly. With a flick of a wand, the curtains fly apart. Day-light graces your line of sight and a shriek of protest reverberates around the room; “augh” you cry your voice pitch slightly razed “the light, it burns”.

     Remus again, withdraws his eyes off the book he is reading and, lifting his wand, he mutters, inaudibly, under his breath an incantation; the curtains snap shut once more. Letting out a sigh of relief you proceed to thank Remus, before turning to face James, whom you narrow your eyes at before sinking further under the covers of Sirius's nice, warm bed. All the while Peter is chortling from his seat on his bed, all the way across the other side of the room.

     You see James's mouth open, another teasing comment fully formed within his brain. Cutting him off just before he voices his taunt you say, “I’m not ill, I’m just a vampire”.

     Remus snorts loudly, and you flinch at the sound.

     “Oh, and I suppose being a vampire makes you sensitive to loud noises as well, doesn’t it?” James throws back.

     "Indeed it does, now leave me alone to wallow in my self-pity".

     Re-positioning himself into a more comfortable position, he replies "Why would you need to wallow in your self-pity if your not ill?"

    "Whose ill?" Sirius says shutting the door to the boy's dorms behind him before advancing further into the room.

    "Agh, Sirius, my man," James says, throwing his arms up enthusiastically "I didn't notice you come in"

    "And here I was thinking I made a dramatic entrance" Sirius replies, pouting, "what the bloody hell is that thing in my bed?"

    "thing?" You exclaim from under the covers "I can't believe you just called me a thing!" your voice laced with mock hurt.

    "ah, it's the thing I call my girlfriend" Sirius chuckles.

     Pulling out your arm from under the covers and attempting to swat at Sirius, "thing!" you shriek loudly, before retracting your arm and clutching your throat with your hand coughing, viciously.  

    "Are you okay, doll?" Sirius says moving towards his bed, passing a frowning Remus.

    Situating himself on the side of his bed, he proceeds to soothingly trace shapes onto your newly exposed lower back, which had become visible due to your shirt riding up as well as the blankets shifting.

    "I'm peachy," you say pouting your lower lip.

    "that's not how it looks from my point of view" Sirius replies, extending his hand and placing it on your forehead "and your temperature says otherwise aswell". He winces at the heat radiating from your forehead before withdrawing his hand.

   "I think she just has a cold" Remus states, looking over at Sirius, "a bad one at that, but it should pass within the next few days".

    "I am fine, fine with a capital everything" you again persist but leaning over you Sirius silences you with a kiss to your lips. You make a "hmph" sound before sinking into the kiss.

    "Ew, gross, get a room!" James yells from where he is sitting.

    Breaking away from the kiss and sits back upright before telling you that "James is just jealous he can not get Lily to kiss him like that", he then proceeds to start tracing patterns onto your back once more. James lets out a shriek of protest but does not proceed to deny anything that was just said.

    "Wait, Sirius do not do that again!" you say, earning a questioning look from Sirius as his tracing fingers slow down "no... no that isn't what I meant, I mean the kiss, it's not that I do not want you to kiss me" you begin to ramble, "it's just that I do not want you to get ill".

    Sirius laughs, "I am not sacrificing all my snogging rights while I wait for you to get better, as if".

    You let out a "hmph" and an "if you say so" before changing your position and turning around so your back no longer faces Sirius. He leans down and pecks your forehead ever so lightly and you feel the lingering sensation of warmth coming from the space which his lips had touched. "You missed," you say sounding dazed, "no wonder they won't let you on the Quidditch team if your aim is this bad".

    Sirius's face contorts in mock hurt as he stares at you incredulously, "ouch, you wound me, doll". You laugh a bit, snuggling into his hand that has come to rest on your cheek, "this time I assure you I won't miss".

    He doesn't, however, the kiss is snort lived as James lets out a scream of indignation that causes you to wince in pain and pull away. James then jumps up from his bed ranting about his hate for PDA before exiting the room.

    "He has gone to find Lily" Sirius snickers, making Peter laugh.

    "I'm afraid I will be going as well" Remus states, "this is not the ideal place for me to read, as I can barely concentrate". After saying that he gets up from his seat, bids you all farewell and exits through the door that was still left ajar from James dramatic exit. Peter mumbles something about going to find James before scuttling out after Remus.

    "And then there were two," Sirius says "now, where were we".

[achtung-attitude]

Chapter 30: Hotel California - Part 2

Kilo Staples stares at the crack in the ceiling, stretching from the corner and arching to the center of the wall. He is unhappy with his current arrangement. He lies on the utmost edge of the king-size bed. To his immediate right, Jerome  suddenly rolls onto his back, throwing the thin linen duvet cover off of them both. His black pajamas are revealed, patterned all over with cannabis leaves, “Smoke Weed Err’day” embroidered on the front breast pocket. On his back, mouth open, he begins to snore. Kilo stares at the ceiling.

Past him, on the opposite edge of the bed, Shizuka Joestar sleeps on her side. A tanned shoulder peeks from under the covers, simply dressed as she is in her usual button-shirt, underwear, and her facepaint carefully removed.

Kilo will not be getting any sleep at this rate. There is enough space in the bed to fit another six people, and he feels like he will continue to sink into the mattress, like quicksand, but he can’t shake this anxiety off of him. He gets up, careful not to wake his companions. He pads to the impressive balcony, his chest bare against the breeze and lights a cigarette.

Neither Jerome nor Shizuka seem to have any problem sleeping in the same bed, no matter how big it may be. Nor do either of them seem to pay attention to how obviously strange the hotel is. With a building this big, the meager skeleton crew they had seen seemed ill-equipped to take care of everything. Yet all seems well, at least according to Paul Mann, who stands out as a bizarre, almost otherworldly character.

“Something isn’t right about that guy…” Kilo murmurs, taking a drag, “Damn it, what’re they thinking? Don’t they realize the kinda shit we’re in? No telling when the next attack is coming, and they just wanna hang out. Takin’ a load off is one thing, but this…”

Exhaling in frustration, he releases a cloud of smoke and flicks the cigarette to the floor, crushing it underfoot. “Nothing I can do for now, I guess,” he says. He steps back inside and out of the conjoined bedroom into the common area.

 The television looms over the wide couch like some kind of bottomless maw. A flick of a button transforms it into a window of flickering light, a portal to the lurid realm of late-night television. Kilo stares at the senseless images flickering past his vision…

In a quarter-second, Kilo realizes he dozed off, then leaps to his feet, listening intently for the sound that woke him: A thick, wet thud from just outside the room. He approaches the door, careful that his footsteps make no noise. Then, sensing movement behind him, he turns sharply. 

“It’s me,” Shizuka whispers, barefoot on the carpet, lit only by the flickering static from the television.

Kilo raises a finger to his lips and grasps the door handle. Slowly, he turns it. He holds his breath. The door clicks and he throws the door wide, striding into the hall with SATURN BARZ ready, Shizuka and ACHTUNG BABY close behind. 

They are the only ones in the hallway. Kilo clicks his tongue, a little disappointed at finding no enemy to harm. Shizuka, facing the other direction, gasps. He turns, and sees the cause of Shizuka’s shock.

A body slumps against a wall, dressed in a red blazer, dropped towels scattered over the floor. SATURN BARZ rolls the body over, and Kilo grimaces as his suspicions are confirmed. It’s the older bellhop. Crouching, Kilo hovers his hand over the old man's mouth and nose.

“He ain’t breathing,” he says. He reaches to check for the man’s pulse, then jerks his hand back, yelping in pain, “YAAAGH!!”

“What happened?!” Shizuka exclaims.

“Augh, nothing…!” Kilo says, clutching his hand, “Just some static electricity, it shocked me. I’m fine. Go wake up Jerome and call an ambulance. Then we outta here. I don’t like this.”

Shizuka nods, and dashes back into the room. Kilo shakes his hand, scowling at it. His hand is not fine. Though outwardly, it is undamaged, pins and needles sear through him, rendering him barely able even to bend his fingers. Through force of will, he manages to form a fist, and within a few moments, feeling returns to his hand.

Restored to functionality, Kilo cautiously taps the body with the back of his knuckles, but there is no shock this time. Here, he notices the card clipped onto the old man’s belt, and finds himself oddly drawn to it. Unclipping it, he stares at the card and frowns deeply at its contents.

The man depicted in the photograph on the ID card is, without doubt, the same man lying on the floor in front of Kilo. Both share the odd, wine-colored birthmark over the right eye, in the uncanny shape of the state of California. But the man in the photograph must be around Kilo’s age, over fifty years younger than the one lying before him, with a full head of frizzy brown hair and smooth skin.

Joseph Luther

Position: Hospitality officer

ID no.: 019467213

Issued: December 2015

Expires: January 2018

“What in the hell is this?” Kilo mutters.

He unclips the card and stands, staring at it, just as Jerome pokes his head out of the door, rubbing his eye and yawning. “Yo, man, what’s the deal? I needs my beauty sleep-”

“Did you make the call?” 

“The what-?”

“The ambulance, Jerome! Did you call the ambulance yet!?”

“Oh, right, right. Yeah, I did. It’s comin’. Man, why’d you make me do that?… You’re just gonna cause a big scene, Kilo… Gonna ruin the good vibes comin’ from dis place…”

“Never mind that. Look at this,” Kilo says, handing him the ID card, “What you make of it?”

Jerome takes the card with some umbrage, inspecting the card with a tired scowl. This fades as he recognises the face on the card. “But that’s…”

“Yeah.”

“There’s no way it’s the same guy! It’s gotta be his grandson or something! The picture’s only from three years ago!”

“Leave it. Get your shit, Jerome, we’re leaving now.”

“This don’t make no sense, how could… Hey, you guys! You can explain, can’t ya? Things like this can’t happen here, can they?”

Kilo turns sharply, his eyes falling upon the two figures that have suddenly appeared behind him. He recognises them instantly as the elderly man’s colleague: Marsellus and Martha. The woman grips Luther’s ankles while the big-eared man slips his arms under his armpits. Together they begin to lift his body and carry it down the hall.

“Stop!” Kilo roars, pointing at them. They stop immediately, looking at him with innocent faces. “Don’t move! Put him down right now! Where did you come from!? Where were you planning on taking him?! Answer me!!”

Martha speaks after a moment. “We’re terribly sorry if our colleague inconvenienced you in any way, sir. Here at the Hotel California, we strive to provide the utmost care in guest hospitality. We urge you to return to bed-”

“I told you to put him down! Your colleague might be dead, and you’re just gonna carry him away? I asked you where you’re taking him!”

“If you require it, sir, we’ll be happy to provide you with some sleeping aid, or if not, may we invite you downstairs to enjoy-”

“I’m not going ANYWHERE, and neither are you, until you answer my questions!!”

“Sir,” Martha says, more insistent now, “I’ll have to ask you to lower your voice. You may be disturbing the other guests.”

“Are you trying to be funny?! Huh-?!”

“Kilo, let it go, mayn,” Jerome says, languidly before yawning deeply.

“What…?” 

“The staff’s takin’ care of it, let’s let ‘em take care of it. You know I needs my sleep. Let’s go back inside, yeah? That bed was so comfy…”

“What the hell are you talking about? We’re not going back to bed, we gotta go!”

“Go where, mayn? I don’t got anywhere else booked. Beside, not like anywhere else’ll compare. It’s such a lovely place…”

He yawns again, and Kilo narrows his eyes. “You… keep saying that. Y’all keep saying that. ‘Lovely place’, or ‘such a lovely place’. You and Shizuka, and the staff. Even the big corporate guy. Why? Why always that specific phrase?”

“I’m tellin’ you to just let the staff take care of it, Kilo. This is their jobs-”

“Ever since we got here, things’ve been nothing but suspicious, but neither you or Shizuka have noticed. Only I’ve noticed? Am I the only one with any sense left?!?”

The door directly across from the trio’s room and a white man in a vest and sweatpants steps out, rubbing his surly face. It is the man from earlier, who came to reception straight after them, with his young son in tow. “Would you please keep it down out here? Do you have any idea what time it is?!”

“Get back inside, man, where it’s safe!” Kilo shouts.

“Excuse me?!” the white man replies, scandalized, “Are you threatening me? I’ll have you know I’m a lawyer, buddy. You so much as look at me wrong, I can bury you under so much litigation that you’ll-!”

“I don’t care what your fuckin’ job is!” he yells, turning, exasperated, “Shit’s complicated enough without you gettin’ involved!” He means to say more, but falls quiet. Beyond the lawyer’s shoulder, he sees into the room.

“H-hey, w-wait a minute, what do you think you’re doing? D-don’t come near me, stay ba-” the lawyer stammers as Kilo approaches, pushing past him and into the room, “Stop! You can’t just waltz in here like that! I’ll call the cops!” Kilo doesn’t listen to him, but inspects the room in wonder.

The lawyer’s room is an exact replica of his own, the so-called “Presidential suite.” The television, the sofa, the pictures on the wall, all are identical. Storming into the bedroom, he sees that even the crack in the ceiling is replicated.

The young boy on the bed rouses awake, blinking at him. “Hey… you’re that man… who flew that one time. On the freeway, at the airport,” he mutters absently.

“Stop!” his father yells, “Get out of there! Get away from my son, you-- Ahh!!” his shout turns into a yelp as Kilo grips him by the strap of his vest and pushes him against the wall.

“How do you have the Presidential Suite too? Answer me, now!”

“What are you…? D-downstairs, at reception! The lady, she said that this was the last room available! Sh-she even gave me a discount on the price!”

“Same thing…”

“What?”

“She said the same thing, to us.”

“But… why? She lied? Why would she lie about that?”

“I don’t know,” Kilo says, releasing him, “But I’ll find out. Listen: get out of here. Something isn’t right in this place. Take your son and leave this hotel. Don’t bother checking out, just grab what you can and leave!”

“Are you gonna fly again?” The boy asks, climbing out of the oversized bed.

“I’ll send someone flying,” Kilo answers, striding out of the room. When he leaves, Marsellus and Martha have disappeared, along with Luther’s body. 

Shizuka has come out of the room, tiptoeing past Jerome reclining against the door to his Presidential Suite, barely awake. She, too, appears to be sleepwalking. “Don’t go… just come rest, Kilo…” she says, pawing at his wrist, gripping him weakly. 

“You and Jerome go inside,” he says, taking her shoulder. “I’ll be back later.”

He marches and marches down the dark corridor, but he never seems to get any closer. Though he travels in a straight line, the hallway goes on and on, impossibly long. “I knew it. I knew all along!! This hotel isn’t natural,” he growls, half to himself, half at the retreating staff. “This has to be an enemy Stand!!

“If I take out the User, then this whole place will die with him… That bastard… That bastard, I know just who it is! There’s nobody else!!” Kilo walks past the elevators and throws open the door to the emergency stairs. He’s quick to reach the top floor, the penthouse of the Hotel California. Without a second to lose, SATURN BARZ slams its palm on the door and it instantly explodes into vapor, which Kilo strides through.

Behind the now non-existent door is Paul Mann, sitting at a desk in a velvet robe, leaning over paperwork. He looks up from the desk, with a smile. “Ah, look who it is!! Kilo, my boy!! That’s a fine trick you did with the door, tell me, what brings you to me at this fine hou-WHOAA!!” He shouts as SATURN BARZ grabs him by his gown and lifts him up into the air. 

“Cancel the Stand ability!! I KNOW you’re the User, so do it!!” Kilo demands, before throwing the portly millionaire into a bookcase.

Mann groans as he struggles to get himself back up. “…Alright, alright, that how you wanna play it…?” he says, rubbing his back. “Fine. I-I never thought they’d go this far, but fine, I can take it… So! Who sent you? Was it Brown, huh? You tell that asshole I’m not budging! Tell him to keep that office warm for me, I’m not damn well budging! I will become Governor of this fucking State!!”

SATURN BARZ delivers a kick to his gut. “Don’t bullshit me!! Who are you working for, huh!? The Congregation!?!” Kilo lifts Mann up in the air again with his Stand ready to toss him around however many times. “You’ve got one chance before I turn you into a smear of red paste on the wall!! Cancel the ability, and let everyone out of the hotel!”

By now, Paul Mann has lost all his mojo, as he kicks his legs in the air, his voice trembling. “Ahh! Stop it! I don’t know what you’re talking about!!”

“Don’t lie to me!”

“H-h… How are you doing this? You’re not touching me, but…! Please, just put me down!!!”

Despite wanting to punch a hole through this guy’s stomach, Kilo doesn’t sense any malintent or deceit from Paul Mann. His Stand waves its hand in front of his face, but the Mann’s eyes take no notice of it. “He can’t see it… He can’t see SATURN BARZ. He’s not the User.”

“Well, of course, he isn’t,” says the man at the door. Standing in the doorframe is the bellboy  Marsellus, wearing a small, sinister smile. “Mr. Mann is nothing more than an honored guest.”

[minijenn]

Out Too Far Preview 3

Another one of these cause I’m finally hitting my stride with this chapter and getting to the good stuff. I’m saving all the Big Drama moments for the chapter itself, but this is some good buildup to that, so enjoy!

***

“Thank you, Stan,” Garnet said, turning back to the conman as he boredly leaned against his boat. “You should head back to town. Things are going to get messy around here very soon. Trust me.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice, shades,” Stan sneered, preparing to climb back into his boat. That is, until he happened to catch a sudden odd glint on its otherwise empty wooden bottom. “Huh?” Confused, he reached down, realizing that this glint came from the metal of a blade he knew he hadn’t brought with him. A blade that was quickly withdrawn back under the seat it had been peeking out from under the moment he skimmed it. And of course, based on that, it didn’t take Stan very long at all to figure out what was going on here. “Alright, kid, the jig is up,” he said, reaching under the seat in full and grabbing a fistful of his nephew’s vest in the process. Dipper gasped in surprise as the conman hoisted him up, giving him a broad, disapproving look, one that the Gems all shared as they realized he had secretly followed them along.

“O-oh, uh… h-hey, you guys!” he laughed uncomfortably. “Crazy seeing you all here too, huh?”

“Dipper!” Pearl exclaimed, baffled by this reveal. “What on earth are you doing here?! I thought we told you to stay behind at the barn with Mabel and Steven!”

“Y-yeah, you did,” Dipper glanced away sheepishly as Stan finally set him down. “I just… didn’t really choose to listen to you guys on that? Though, I guess that’s kind of obvious since I’m here in the first place…”

“Kid, how’d you even get out here?” Stan asked, arms crossed. “Don’t tell me you stowed away in my trunk. Cause if you did… well, I gotta say I’m kinda impressed. Guess you have more of my genes in you than Ford’s. Heh, remind me to rub that in his face later.”

“Stan! Don’t encourage this kind of behavior!’ Pearl huffed, annoyed.

“Dipper,” Garnet spoke up, her tone stern yet steady. “You know we only told you to stay behind for your own safety.”

“I do know, but you guys don’t have to worry about me!” Dipper insisted, drawing his sword. “I can defend myself, and maybe I won’t even have to do that if I can just find a way to reach Lapis somehow. Who knows? Maybe I might even be able to convince her to unfuse!”

“Convince her?” Amethyst asked, incredulous. “Dude, have you even seen Malachite? She’s like, completely bonkers! I don’t think just talking to her is really gonna solve this one. Though I’ll give you points for coming up with a very Steveny way to deal with it.”

“But I-” Before Dipper could argue his stance any further, the entire island suddenly shook from its very foundation, nearly knocking the entire group to the ground. The entire surface of the lake seemed to ripple, until the shifting waters practically turned into waves. And from those waves, on the far side of the island but still in sight of the group on its shore, a massive shape began to emerge, thrashing against the chains that had once held her down violently and growling in her heated struggle all the while.

“It… it’s her…” Dipper whispered in shock the moment he saw her. All at once, it was as though he had been struck by the very same anguish he had felt when he had first watched her drag herself into the depths far too long ago. The pain he had felt in all of his failed and futile efforts in trying to get her back. But not again, not today. For today he resolved to push that pain aside in the hopes that he could finally be free from it, that they could both finally be free once and for all.

“Stan, get back on the boat and take Dipper back to town,” Garnet ordered firmly. “Now.”

“No!” Dipper protested, though before he could rush forward, Stan swiftly grabbed him by the arm.

“Listen, kid, just because you’ve got some kinda crazy death wish doesn’t mean I do,” the conman remarked as he began to drag his nephew back towards the boat. “Now c’mon, let’s skip outta here while we still can.”

No sooner had Stan said this, however, then a massive wave, caused by Malachite’s continued fearsome struggling against herself, suddenly burst out of the water and crashed onto the shore. Amethyst acted quickly, shifting herself into an umbrella large enough to shield the entire group, lest they be carried away by the water entirely. But what hadn’t been spared was Stan’s boat, which was easily dragged out of the shore’s reach when the wave quickly retreated. Given how tumultuous the lake’s surface already was thanks to the restless fusion, it didn’t take long for yet another high wave to overwhelm the small boat entirely, snapping it clean in half before dragging both halves down into the depths.

“Nooooo!” Stan cried, running out into the shallows to try and salvage his sinking ship. “My boat!”

“Well, that’s… convenient,” Dipper noted largely to himself before turning back to the Gems with a triumphant grin. “Oh well, looks like you guys have to let me stay here and help after all.”

“No, we don’t,” Pearl shook her head, adamant. “Both of you need to find somewhere to hide where Malachite won’t be able to see you. As destructive and out of control as she is, there’s no telling what she’d do if she spotted two humans in her range.”

“Oh, come on!” Dipper sighed petulantly, getting incredibly tired of being told no on this matter.

“No, you come on, kid,” Stan reiterated, grabbing Dipper’s arm once more and more or less dragging him towards the island’s dense forest. “It’s bad enough I lost my only boat, I’m not about to lose my only life too. Oh, and uh, you I guess.”

Dipper scowled, quite disgruntled as the conman forced him just past the tree line and into the woods. However, just past that tree line happened to be pair of Watermelon Stevens, completely oblivious to the danger that was only just beginning to beset their peaceful island home. Instead, they were simply content to enjoy playing their makeshift bongos together, or at least they were until one of them suddenly seized up and collapsed to the ground before snapping back to life just as quickly.

When Steven awakened, it didn’t take him very long to realize that his aim had been successful. For sure enough, with a single glance down, he found the short, green, stubby legs of one of his watermelon doubles rather than his own. The young Gem allowed himself a small celebratory cheer at this (or as much of a cheer as he could get out since his speech was quite limited in this form) before quickly getting up and rushing down to the shore, leaving a very confused other Watermelon Steven behind.

All the same, Steven broke out of the woods only to find the Gems, standing together against Malachite, who was still engrossed in a struggle all her own to the point that she hadn’t even noticed their presence yet. “Alright,” Garnet said, extending her hands out to her teammates. “Let’s put an end to this.”

Pearl and Amethyst agreed, simultaneously breaking into a synchronized, smooth dance towards Garnet, who did the same as she remained stationary. And as the trio met, with hardly any effort at all, their forms lit up, joining together and rising up to form a force that would finally be enough of a match for Malachite herself: Alexandrite.

At the same time, Malachite’s own internal fight only seemed to intensify as she tugged hard against her aquatic chains and manacles. For weeks now, the bonds had remained steady and constant, Lapis’ own intense fortitude and resolve proving enough to weigh them both down. However, Jasper wasn’t the type to let herself stay buried under the surface for too long, and sure enough, she had brutishly pushed her way past the blue Gem’s restraints, entirely bursting free from them entirely.

“Augh! Give UP!” the twisted fusion shouted, her disjointed voice echoing across the lake. With one final, fierce pull, the watery chains snapped, at last releasing Malachite, or rather, her more vicious half from her lengthy imprisonment. “Finally…” she grinned, rubbing her wrist where the manacles had once held her. “I’m impressed. You really held out.”

“MALACHITE!” Alexandrite’s fearsome shot rippled across the water as the powerful fusion splashed into the shallows of the lake herself, ready to square off. While initially surprised, Malachite sneered as she turned to her, recognizing well the group of Gems that this opposing fusion was composed of.

“Hmph, they’re here. Figures they’d come running to protect all those stupid humans,” the twisted fusion turned her nose up at the crowd of townsfolk still spectating on the distant main shore. Even so, as submerged in their shared mind as she now was, Malachite’s other half growled in protest at the thought of exactly who might possibly be within that group. “Ugh! Stop!” she hissed, forcing her other half back into the darkness of their fusion’s existence. “Pathetic! Don’t you see? We’ve been holding us back for too long! And for what? If we’re going to be this thing together, why don’t we have some fun?”

“We don’t have to fight!” Alexandrite appealed, all six of her hands clenched into tight fists. “You’re outnumbered.”

Malachite didn’t respond right away, bowing her head low as she tightened her own fists for battle. As she did, two similar arms rose up from the water, composed entirely of liquid and just as ready for the fray ahead as she was. “I may be outnumbered… but you’re out of your depth!” With two swift sings, the water fists both slammed into Alexandrite, catching her off guard and sending her stumbling back in the water, unsteady but hardly ready to fall to pieces so easily. “I can’t wait to tear you Gems apart!”

[trashcanmarvelfan]

Best. Job. Ever. 13/13 (Epilogue)

Summary: Reader gets a job on the set of Spider-Man: Far from Home for the 3 weeks they are shooting in New York City as what she thinks is a production assistant, but a twist of fate has her reassigned as Tom Holland’s personal assistant. As she & Tom grow close during filming, will their budding friendship turn to more or will they go their separate ways after filming concludes?

Warnings: Language, but that’s pretty much it? This is basically a PG-13 rom-com. (Legal) alcohol use as well but since it’s legal do I really need to tag it?

Word Count: 981 for the epilogue!

Author’s Note: As this was written WAY before Spider-Man: Far from Home was released (actually before Avengers: Endgame was as well) I’ve kept plot details and which scene was being shot on what day extremely vague. Also, I’m American but tried to write Tom as British as possible, although I do think he’d try to stay(ish) in character and use as much American slang as he could while he’s still playing Peter.

Chapter-Specific Author’s Note: Thank you so much for sticking with this story and for all the likes and comments - Writers crave feedback! 

Requests are always open!

Cross-posted at AO3.

*****************8 Months Later******************

“Ready for your big-screen debut?”

Y/N glanced up from her reflection in the mirror in Tom's bedroom as Tom walked in. She laughed. “Sure, if that take even made it into the movie.”

“Oh, I'm sure it did, darling. You stole the scene.”

Y/N smirked. “Oh yes, I walked across the street better than anyone else ever has in the history of cinema. I should start practicing my Oscars acceptance speech!” 

Tom playfully nudged her. “Just remember us little people when you’re famous.”

Y/N arched an eyebrow. “Right... and who exactly is the star of the film we’re going to the premiere of?” She sighed. “I can't believe it’s already here. Seems like just yesterday we were in New York for filming.”

Tom grinned as he came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and placing his head on her shoulder. “Time flies when you're having fun, doesn't it, love?”

Y/N grinned back at him in the mirror. “It sure does.” She turned and put her arms around Tom's neck. “But there's no one else I'd rather have fun with than you, babe.” She gave him a quick kiss. “Oh, hey, I got you something.”

“Oh?” Tom replied.

Y/N walked over to where her overnight bag was sitting on Tom's bed and pulled out a small velvet bag. She handed the bag to Tom, watching as he pulled the drawstrings open and shook the contents out into his palm.  His face lit up.

“I thought you could wear them to the premiere if you wanted,” Y/N explained as Tom examined the Spiderman cufflinks and tie clip closer.

“Absolutely, I love these!” Tom quickly switched out his cufflinks and tie clip for his new ones, checking himself out in the mirror to make sure his tie clip was straight.

Y/N grinned and kissed him on the cheek.  “Perfect. Now, help me with my necklace please?”

“Sure, darling,” Tom replied.

Y/N walked over to her bag, got her necklace out, and handed it to Tom, then turned around and moved her hair off of her neck.

Tom fastened the necklace around Y/N's neck, caressing her neck with his fingers as he straightened it and placing a small kiss under her ear.

Y/N shivered, taking a sharp breath. She could feel the love in his gentle touch. She turned around to face Tom.

“Have I mentioned lately how much I love you?” she asked.

Tom smiled. “Not in the last 10 minutes,” he joked. “I could probably use a reminder.”

Y/N ran her fingers through Tom's hair, which had been artfully styled into messy curls for the premiere. “I love you so much,” she said.

“I love you too,” Tom replied. “More than anything.” His expression suddenly got serious. “Actually, I--”

They were interrupted by Tom's phone ringing.

“Augh, hold on.” Tom fished his phone out of his pocket. “Hello? Yeah, hey, mate. Yeah, we’re ready. Ok, sounds perfect. Ok, see you there.”

“That was Haz. He said the car will be here in 10 minutes,” he explained.

Y/N nodded. “So, how do I look? Premiere-worthy?”

“Absolutely beautiful,” Tom replied. “Although I think something is missing.”

Y/N frowned. “Oh?” She turned back towards the mirror in Tom's room and looked at her outfit. “What is it?”

She turned back around to see Tom on one knee, a beautiful diamond ring in his hands.

Y/N gasped, her eyes widening and her hands flying up to her mouth. Tears filled her eyes.

Tom cleared his throat. “I was going to wait until after the premiere but the more I thought about it the more I feel like I have to do this now. Y/N, these past 8 months with you have been some of the best of my life. The day I met you I walked into that restaurant not knowing just how much you would change my life for the better. I was expecting just a temporary assistant, but what I got was so much more. I couldn't leave New York without asking you to go on a date with me when we arrived back here in L.A., and now I can't walk into the premiere without having asked you if you'll be my wife. Y/N, will you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?”

***********************************************************

“Welcome back to the red carpet for the premiere of Spider-Man: Far from Home where we are live with Tom Holland, yes that’s right, Spider-Man himself, who has just been joined by his girlfriend, literary publicist Y/N Y/L/N. Tom and Y/N, it’s been rumored that you two actually met on the set of Far from Home. Is that true?”

Y/N and Tom looked at each other with a smile.  “Yes, actually, it is true,” Tom answered. “Sony hired Y/N as my assistant for the New York part of filming and we hit it off straight away, although we didn’t officially start dating until after filming had wrapped.”

Y/N threaded her fingers through Tom’s, his thumb lovingly caressing the finger that he had placed a ring on not long before.

Although Y/N had accepted Tom's proposal with a tearful and resounding “YES, OF COURSE!” they ultimately had decided together to wait until after the film's release to make their engagement public, so as to not overshadow the release. “Actually I was originally hired as a production assistant,” she clarified, “but was reassigned as Tom's personal assistant before I could begin.”

“So, Y/N, what was it like being Tom’s assistant on set?”

Y/N grinned and looked at Tom lovingly. “I’d have to say that while I absolutely love my current job, being Tom's assistant on the Far from Home set was quite honestly the best job ever.”

Taglist: @laureharrier @thoughstofaredhead & @greenarrowhead

[mynameisdreartblog]

Romantic Composers 2

Leo: Johann Strauss II. I’m gonna prank-call a Domino’s in San Juan, give me a minute. «Oro, we’re in the middle of the sea, I doubt there’ll be a good enough connection or a cell-tower near enough to let you-» <Sudden static is heard, and a gruffy voice comes on.> «Este es el Domino’s; ¿Qué te gusta probar nuestro nueva pizza stuffed-crust?» <Oro gives an impossible look at Viz, implying that he never doubted himself, but that Viz was a total moron for doubting him.> Yes, I’d like a, uh… <Oro’s eyes begin rapidly scanning the environment for clues.> Anchovies… Pineapples… A Hawaiian pizza, basically: That’s the mellow flavor I’m feeling today. «¿Algo más, señor?» Oh yes, I’d also like those marble brownies for a dessert, and an Orange Crush for the drink. <Viz wonders how Oro is able to receive a cellular connection in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico.> That should be it… Oh no! «¿Señor?» Augh! I fell off this pier, and I think I’m d-drowning! Please, send someone to help; I can’t swim! «¡Mierda!» <Viz watches Oro kick his feet through the water, making very convincing splashing sounds. He then begins to produce fake choking sounds, leaving the Domino’s worker quite terrified.> «Why did I ever agree to come out here with you.» <Viz punches the makeshift sailboat the two are in, startling Oro and causing him to drop his phone.> Viz, what the hell? I still had 3 gigs of data left on that thing! «Data? It’s a flip-phone. Smart phones haven’t been invented yet because they’re a science-fiction concept, dipshit. Now you have some terrorized soul in an island hundreds of miles away from here.» Actually, he’s at the bottom of the ocean. «Don’t speak to me again, I swear to God.» […] <The scene of the discord fades away as we peer into the bottom of the ocean, where we find the phone there, still on call. The voice rings out and says:> «¿Crees que está jugando conmigo?» […] Man, wouldn’t it be hilarious if I did that? <We cut back to reality: Oro is sitting in the front seat of his banged-up truck, killing time while Viz lays half-conscious in the back.> «That’d kind suck. I mean, who’s gonna be on the ocean? Nobody’s that stupid: The ocean’s big and scary.» You and me both, but don’t deny that isn’t hilarious. «Heh, I did appreciate the joke about the phone at the bottom of the ocean: You were setting that up miles in advance.» [,] Shit, am I getting a phone call?

Taurus: Frédéric Chopin. "The automobile is perhaps the only invention that is at once phallic and womb-like. As columnist George Will once remarked, “the real reason for progressives’ passion for trains is their goal of diminishing Americans’ individualism in order to make them more amenable to collectivism.” While his comments are laughable for a number of reasons, collectivism as a goal (or even a word) smells of Cold War-era mildew. Will does hit on one truism: Humans love cars to an irrational degree." Hmm, that’s a very interesting think-piece you have here. But tell me, why should I care about Americans and their car-culture? I hike up here every day, and when I have to travel lower, I take a moped like everyone else. Though, mine’s bigger for obvious reasons. «Don’t blame me; I just put the papers on the table. Those crazy op-ed writers will publish just about anything to get people’s anger brewing.» You’re right… The morning’s been quite inactive though, and I just wanted something to talk about. Heaven knows I talked about every trinket in this place. «You can try talking about the cuisine, specifically how I can learn from you. That’s just something you’ve been stubborn about lately, and maybe this boredom is just the karma of that.» I knew you’d say that, but you need to realize that my cooking is something you can only experience, never narrate. I let things speak for themselves a lot, and I never found a purpose in taking down notes that do nothing but become clutter later on. <Bodhi whispers to themselves> «That’s the guy I know: Always asking you to live out things fully because understanding things holistically is better than growing personally.» [,] You whisper too long but also too sweetly. Please keep doing it until we have a customer coming so I can feel like there’s some activity here.  «Bullheaded as always.» […] <Gresham takes a meaningful sip of tea, it fails to burn his old throat, but can punch through the atmosphere to reveal a friendly puff.>  A lot of the time, I’m tired of being so cynical: Where’s the room for being clumsily sincere? I have to refuse making money by telling dirty jokes or other obscene things like, ugh, phone usage. <Like he never said, he’s not too old, it’s that technology doesn’t catch up to him for his liking.> [,] The window is just soothing enough to warrant not cleaning it yet, but I don’t wanna get another tourist complaining about how they don’t have the best mountain view. Whoever sits here will have to learn how to appreciate the fault… I’m complaining to pass the time again: Not a healthy habit, Gresham. […] Nothing strange, just a nice day: A little foggy though.

Aquarius: Giacomo Puccini. How would I describe the graphical style of the game Little Red Hood for the NES if I were to use persistent, geographical allusion? Well, I’d say that it’d be like what would happen if you tried to translate the geography of Afghanistan onto 8-bit graphics hardware, particularly how it appears near a strong river like the Helmand: It provided that Galilean backdrop that so many directors used in their films about Christ. Now, that’s what I did think back in my flawed memory of the game, but now that I look back at it again, the landscape is definitely more inspired by that of Florida, particularly around the parts where sawgrass is heavy and palm trees are native, but it’s not a tropical landscape per se, nor is it an entirely swampy one. It’s particularly the presence of palm trees that struck me as confusing, because my brain has always associated the odd, yellow colors of its groundwork to that of a renovated Pacific area, but the game proves that it doesn’t use the palm trees throughout the entire game. But the opening levels still confuse me because the story of Little Red Riding Hood that the game’s based on originates in various parts of Europe, and the foliage we see in the opening act doesn’t reflect that of any European landscape. It could just be an artist interpretation in the case of making the presentation of the game think you were in a Pacific island or near the heartlands of Okeechobee, but I think it might’ve just been a case of “not giving a shit” as they say. There’s more to talk about with how my brain subconsciously linked my flawed memories of the game’s graphical presentation with that of the riverbanks of the Helmand; I guess I just wanted to prove my initial biases and not examine how the game doesn’t even commit to even my ideas whenever I think of Afghani scenery, but maybe even those are failing to catch up with the fact that there’s so many different aesthetical implications within the vastness of the nation of Afghanistan that, uh, I don’t know: I just like Afghani landscape. Have this picture of a village in the Bamyan desert. [,] «Aukai, what the hell are you talking about? I’ve been eavesdropping back here since you started and I still don’t understand.» I’m t-trying to paint this scene in my head, but I don’t have my tools to do it, so I’m thinking loudly about it. «…Whatever.» […] There’s no doubt in my mind that he’d make a great tamer: Our protagonist of this beautiful world, now ravaged by corruptors that his world has gone to hell for trying to stop. He’s the only one who can control the beastly and brutish forces of the corruption that infests his world. <The one earlier who was questioning Aukai opens her door and holds out a hand full of paint-brushes.> «Here, take these, please. I liked you better when you were quiet.» <Aukai is insulted and satisfied.>

Pisces: Franz Liszt. I’m fucking devastated: My favorite rap-battle channel on YouTube just deleted their channel. Not only that, all of their social media accounts are gone. They had such great works as "Goku vs. Rick Sanchez", "George Washington vs. the Invisible Man", and "Luigi vs. Slenderman." I don’t know if I can keep going the same route of content consumption knowing that the only ironic rap battle channel deleted everything. «Hold on, your favorite video-channel on the Internet was ironic? I don’t think I’m getting this, Maggie.» Let me explain it: It was good because it didn’t take itself seriously. For a while, that was it’s niche, and certainly other creators arose to copy it, but they were always the first. «So, is this like, some independent person making all of these or is there an entire network of people collaborating to create this music?» You’re right the second time: They used to be part of this collaborative effort to make these videos, but the guy I like, in particular, broke off from the bigger picture. Now, their content is what I like; I haven’t seen the uploads by the other creators ’cause it’s not really the same experience, is it? «That’s crazy… and they just deleted all their content after how long they’ve done this for?» I’ve been following it for a year, but they were their most active near October. [,] «You actually have me interested in their music now. I mean, I know you can’t play it anymore, but do you at least have backups or remember how some of them went?» I think I have backups, but I know some of these by heart, man. What I’m trying to say is that it’d be far better if I could recite these to you than if I just played them. «So, what you’re saying is that you don’t have any backups?» Do you have any backups, or do you wanna see me recite some of the best lyrics you’ll ever hear? «Let it rip.» [,] "I got the Dragon Balls; I’m gonna win. I’m gonna eat your pickle, Rick. Oh wait, SHIT! Your mom licked my Dragon Ball(z); I’m just Super Saiyan. Kamehameha, I ain’t playin’. Rick Sanchez always wanna start drama; don’t make me do Dirty Sanchez on yo’ mama! I bet your only comeback is you making a burp. Rick Sanchez winning? Stupidest shit I’ve ever heard." At this point, Rick Sanchez would offer up his verse to Goku, and his verse goes something like "thirty-thousand witches in Goku’s house! God isn’t real; I touched Bulma’s blouse. I got like, seventy more episodes with Morty, and being with Morty just makes me real-" «Stop, this is way more awful than I expected.» Well, I’m the only one you can get these bars from, and now you’re saying you don’t want them? I don’t have to recite them. «You have backups; you lied to me earlier. I don’t care about them now, but look: You got potential outside of just reciting those bars. Maggie, you got your own talents.» I’m not a lyricist, but thanks. «You’re a poet, that’s one-or-two steps away from being a lyricist.» I rapped purely for the purposes of recitation; I don’t know what you’re getting at. «Nah, I’m convinced that only you can write something this absolutely… passionate. You made up this entire channel, this entire guild, this entire deletion scandal: You made it all up so you can kickstart your career.» I’m not- Okay, we’ll roll with it this time. [,] Yeah, I’m starting my own rap battle channel in the wake of the one that deleted itself. «Are you gonna cash in on the ironic rap-battle market or are you trying to be more sincere with this?» Of course it has to be ironic! I’m following in the master’s footsteps thanks to you, and now I can’t disrespect his legacy. «That’s cool, but it’s not enough: You gotta make it one of those ARGs.» ARG? «Like, some game of Clue you send your audience on to discover interlinked details that seem to form a bigger picture but end up getting nowhere, and it’s all for the purpose of promoting your brand.» Oh, I see. I can include like, hints in the middle of the jokes in the verses, and I’d make an entire fictional universe of followers that leave behind clues. «No, you don’t even have to do that: Just get a random mugshot, make up some believable names and accredit them to your project, get some weirdos on a message-board to write about it for you, and you’re set.» …If you’re gonna be this disheartening, I don’t wanna continue with it. «That’s not what I meant!»