#Continuing the trend of them getting ready at home rather than actually being out during Trick or Treat

[sysig]

For Requestober, Req.1

Scri dressed as an angel, Edgar dressed as a demon. It would be fun to see the roles swaped regarding costumes!

Day 3 - Angel and Devil('s Advocate)

[tarosin]

the great adventures of y/n and ranboo

this is an extra part to the great adventures series

summary: part two to the angst imagine (the not so great adventures of y/n tommy tubbo jack and ranboo) it’s a happier ‘ending’ please read what is written in bold

this is an “alternative ending” around 15 years into the future this doesn’t mean this is actually how the series is going to end im writing it now and including it as part of series as their friendship is already established i can confirm y/n and the group are going to have a happy ending when the series eventually comes to an end this also does not mean the series is anywhere near the end i plan on continuing the series as vlogs come out, i feel the need to confirm this now love between y/n and ranboo in this imagine is completely platonic

it had been about a month since you last streamed whereas ranboo continued to stream a few days after the fallout as he wanted to make sure you were going to be okay. even though ranboo knew this huge fallout would eventually happen, it still hurt him, especially since he knew there was no way to prevent it, the four of you in the same house mixed with the stress of being some of the most-watched content creators made living rather difficult. it was like walking on eggshells as you didn’t want to interrupt someone's stream, then there was the additional stress of obsessive fans finding out where the four of you lived, you still remember that day very vividly. you were sat in between tubbo and ranboo watching the office whilst Tommy was in an interview when you received a message from your mod.

Chris: hey y/n I received this message earlier I don’t want to scare you, but maybe get the locks changed. someone sent a message claiming this is your address *image of message from ‘fan’*

it didn’t take long for tubbo and ranboo to receive a message from their mods saying the same thing

“holy shit...”

“chances are Tommy has the message too. we shall go check around the house when Tommy is done with the interview.”

luckily no one ever showed up to the house, but the fact some people were so obsessed to the point they found your address was enough to put everyone in the house on edge. and now it was just you and ranboo in the house. you didn’t feel safe as even though ranboo promised to not let anything happen, you didn’t wanna risk it.

“we should move. there’s no point in having such a big house for two people, what are we going to use the extra space for heh? hide and seek with people who have our address. no thank you. I say we move leave this mess behind and start completely over, hell I’d feel safer in the us and that’s saying something”

ranboo agreed the house didn’t have the happiest memories attached to it anymore, it hurt walking past the hallway as it would bring back the memory of him crying into the crook of y/ns neck whilst tubbo left the house.

“let’s do it, I’ll do an early stream then we can look for houses. go take a shower. I’ll stay close to the door so you’re safe, then you can stay in my room whilst I stream, you can join me if you would like.”

“you’re being very protective all of a sudden...let me guess you got the message from our mods announcing the obsessive fans are at it again?”

“go take a shower.”

“no.”

ranboo ended up picking you up, carried you to the bathroom and turned the shower on before putting you on your feet.

“quick shower I’ll see you later.”

and with that he left the room shutting the door behind him, 30 minutes later you got changed and followed ranboo to his room ready to join him whilst he streams

“hey boo, can I join you? I kinda wanna get into streaming again.”

“I'm so glad you asked, I was going to do a face cam stream, if that’s okay?”

“of course.”

you grabbed his mask and glasses whilst he locked the door so you were both safe. “here you go.”

“thank you.”

the pair of you started the stream and it was honestly going well, you were having so much fun you forgot about all the negative things currently going on, you began to understand why ranboo continued streaming as for those 2-4 hours of streaming it felt as though everything was back to normal. 3 hours later the two of you ended stream and Twitter went crazy. tweets ranged from fans talking about how ranboo was streaming with you, how Tommy was in chat, and how tubbo was modding as people who mentioned anything about their address being leaked were banned by tubbo. the one thing that caught ranboos eye was fan art and a picture of you both from the stream captioned ‘they’re platonic soulmates your honour’ ranboo went as far to like, retweet and comment on it.

ranaltboo: glad you liked the stream it was great having y/n back, think I might make them play tattletail next stream

definitelynoty/n: isn’t that the Furby game that terrified you in 2021? bring it on boo!

Twitter went crazy over this interaction, you had finally come back to social media after months of being inactive, and it looked like you were here to stay. a month later you and ranboo moved out of the house and sold it to your aunt and her wife and their three adopted children, you explained the situation and even changed the locks for them all before they moved in.

“Please do tell us if anyone shows up who shouldn’t be. we changed the locks as you were aware- oh hello little one.”

you noticed one of their children decided to cling onto your leg

“I like your hair it’s colourful!”

“Indeed it is.”

“WOAH A GIANT!”

the little girl let go of your leg and ran to ranboo asking to be picked up, unsure of what to do he looked towards you. however, you were too busy laughing about the fact he was compared to a giant.

“I'm so sorry uh if you want to pick her up you can, you don’t have to.”

“pick me up, tall man... I want to be taller!”

ranboo ended up standing next to you with an arm around your waist whilst the child sat on his shoulders happily playing with his hair.

“ranboo do not drop that child.”

“I didn't- I didn't plan on it y/n.”

eventually, it was time to leave and the child reluctantly let go of ranboo.

“bye-bye!! hope to see you soon!”

soon enough you were at a smaller house, far away from the old house, leaving behind the negative feelings. it could only get better, a week later the pair of you had settled into the new house, it finally felt like home. you and ranboo were now streaming full time again, safe to say the two of you were thriving and closer than ever.

“so I’m thinking if I hit the sub-goal today I’ll let chat pick what colour I dye my hair.”

“make it higher, and I’ll let you cut my hair.”

“Are you being serious? oh my god!”

a few minutes later you took to Twitter to announce you were going live.

y/n: kidnapping children in the sims with ranboo psst check the subgoal.

within 20 minutes you had hit the sub-goal, chat ended up picking another random neon colour for your hair.

“right hair dye and the cutting stream will be this weekend, now let’s go back to kidnapping.”

tubbo, tommy, and jack felt awful for what happened and went back to the house where you used to live, hoping to see you there so they could apologise, tubbo knocked on the door only to be met by a young child.

“my sister watches you on twitch!”

“oh that’s lovely.. are y/n and ranboo here?”

an older woman came to the door.

“oh no, I’m sorry dear they both moved out, but they left this box and said to give it to you if you returned.”

“do you know where they moved to?”

“I'm sorry dear, I'm not allowed to tell you that information for safety reasons.”

“I understand, thanks anyway.”

they ended up going back to jacks where the three of them had been staying.

“We should open the box.”

tubbo opened the box and emptied the items onto the floor, inside was the rocks y/n handed tubbo from every trip, photos of the group, a necklace y/n had gifted to Tommy a day before the argument, and a hat y/n had taken from jack during a trip to a zoo.

“what the fuck!”

“holy shit!”

“they really kept all these in hopes we would come back?”

“and now we’re too late.”

it was now the weekend you and ranboo were ready to stream, you stood leaning on ranboo who was significantly smaller than you as you lowered the chair he sat on.

“starting stream...now.”

after the starting soon intro played, you explained what was happening to any new viewers or people who didn’t watch the stream.

“so I’m about to become Edward Scissorhands...I love that film can we watch it later?”

“yeah mhm sure!”

you didn’t know this but your ex best friends were watching and ever so often would show up in the chat.

“so boo, what are we doing with your hair today?”

“just a trim please darling?”

“This is y/ns hairdressers you get what I’m capable of!”

you ended up doing a pretty good job of cutting ranboos hair, even he was impressed.

“I didn’t doubt you for a minute!”

“mhm sure thing please don’t mess up my hair tall one!”

soon enough you had the dye on. 45 minutes later you left to wash it off, leaving ranboo to entertain stream,

“chat I think I missed some of their hair it’s okay, I own scissors, I’ll just cut it.. speaking of they did a great job, didn't they? I honestly expected them to mess up.”

a few minutes later you joined ranboo again and spent the next few hours talking with chat. tubbo, tommy, and jack stayed the entire time. they loved the fact you and ranboo were able to stay close after what happened, Tommy noticed you were still wearing the necklace he got you many years ago and spammed them chat with him tubbo and jack

Tommy: THEYRE WEARING THE NECKLACE!!

jack: so what? they clearly don’t wanna talk to us.

tubbo: shut up listen to them.

“chat why are we spamming platonic soulmates?”

“they’ve been saying it all over Twitter, look on trending y/n.”

you started to blush slightly at all the amazing artwork soon enough the stream came to an end, after saying goodbye the pair of you sat together going through fan art. unfortunately the one that caught your eye was this one twitter post where the artist had created a drawing of a piece of paper with you, ranboo, tommy, tubbo, and jack, however the paper was ripped separating you and ranboo from the others, captioned ‘it was never meant to be’ this clearly upset ranboo as he took off his mask and glasses placing them on the desk before going straight to his bed.

“boo…are you okay?”

“Are you tired of me? are you going to leave next?”

“what? no of course not! I could never get tired of you, why do you ask?”

“everyone else has left..i thought they cared about us, i knew it would happen eventually and i couldn’t stop it, i’m sorry, y/n, please don’t hate me.”

you sat on the edge of the bed looking down at the floor,

“come here.”

you watched him roll over to face you.

“you know there’s no one else who I'd rather spend the rest of my life with, right…if i hated you i wouldn’t have moved house with you. it’s not your job to fix everything and make everything better, you’re a streamer for christ sake not a therapist.”

“i guess so.. can we watch that thing you were on about for ages.”

“edward scissorhands? “

“mhm!”

you could tell he wanted to be distracted, so you agreed and put the film on, towards the end you began to get upset due to how overwhelming everything was.

“Why are you crying?”

“poor Edward.”

“come here.”

ranboo pulled you into a hug you laid there crying into his chest, he knew that wasn’t the reason you were crying, but he wasn’t about to make you tell him, luckily it didn’t take long for you to stop crying as ranboo quickly distracted you.

“ranboo..”

“yeah y/n?”

“I feel bad i didnt realise how much pressure was on you whilst everyone was arguing.”

“Hey, it’s okay, is that what’s upsetting you?”

“mhm.”

“don’t blame yourself, i’d do it all over again to keep you safe and happy..then again i didn’t do a good job on keeping you happy.”

“you did..you were always there for me even when i gave up on social media, you shared your room with me after i started receiving creepy messages from that obsessed fan, hell you even went on adventures with me even though it was clear you hadn’t been sleeping, just so we could spend time together and forget about what was happening. you mean a lot to me boo.”

“i love you.”

“i love you too bud, I’m tired.”

“go to sleep, it’s been a long day.”

“okay.”

“you just staying there?”

“yes.”

“oh, oh okay, goodnight.”

about a year later the two of you were still thriving, ranboo got you a promise ring a few months earlier.

“heh what’s this for?”

“as your best friend i promise to stay by your side and keep you safe and make sure that you’re happy, in other words you're stuck with me till the end of time.”

“boo…i really don’t know what to say.. thank you so much!”

“you don’t have to say anything!”

you ended up going out to buy him a promise ring when he started the stream and decided to take your cousins with you now that they were a little older. ranboo was doing a facecam stream when the door slammed open revealing you covering your three younger cousins ranboo not realising you were hiding them from the camera, instinctively stood up covering the camera

“ranboooooo!”

“yes you three and y/n ,what do you need?”

“we would like to watch a film!”

“Okay, i’ll go put one on, y/n will you entertain chat?”

“sure thing boo boy!”

once they left you sat fixing your hair forgetting you were wearing the ring chat noticed this and went crazy, so did Tommys group with tubbo and jack.

tubbo: that’s a ring, right??

jack: yeah looks like it.

Tommy: holy shit I always thought if anyone was gonna get married it would be tubbo and y/n, they were inseparable.

tubbo: hilarious.

jack: it could just be a ring, no one mentioned marriage tommy!

Tommy: we should congratulate them.

jack: at least let them explain fucking hell.

soon enough ranboo came back into the room,

“sorry one of them found it hilarious to steal my glasses...”

“they’re little shits i swear to god but i love them.”

you both noticed chat going crazy and both looked at each other before laughing.

“i'm sorry, i can’t take you serious in the mask and glasses!”

“i can’t take you serious with neon hair, but here we are!”

“rude!”

you and ranboo quickly put an end to the rumours,

“no we’re not engaged or married, it is a promise ring. no they’re not our children, they’re y/ns cousins they just spend a lot of time here..chat stop calling me and y/n parents and comparing us to phil that’s not..that’s not how it works okay!”

“parent arc!”

“y/n, don’t encourage them!”

“it’s a little bit funny!”

soon enough the bit came to an end and eventually ranboo ended the stream.

“hey boo look what i got you”

you handed him a little black box, inside was a ring similar to yours

“i promise to always stick around and be here for you”

“oh my god”

ranboo tackled you into a hug thanking you several times for his rings. you and ranboo were living your best life meanwhile jack, tommy, and tubbo were stuck dealing with the guilt of what happened, but they’re weren’t giving up that easy. they wanted you both back, that’s when you received a notification, tommyinnit has sent you a message request: hey y/n can we talk..please?

taglist

@dumb-chaotic-bi-energy @uselesssapphickitten @l0ver0fj0y @etheriaaly @xx-smiley-xx @hawarun @kylobensgirl @cawcaw-pretty-thing @reverse-iak @renleicrashed @augustine-is-joy @c1loudee

[pretend-writer]

Demolition Lovers (Hargreeves x sibling!reader)

Summary: Klaus and Y/N helps their brother, Luther find a perfect date.

Title Reference: Demolition Lovers x My Chemical Romance

Word Count: 1.6k words

Warning: swearing, mention of sex

✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤

It was a typical day at the Hargeeves mansion. Klaus and I hanging out as we lay across the couch next to each other, scrolling through our social media and sharing celebrity gossips that was trending that day.

Diego would then barge in, bothering us to get up and be productive but then end up eaves dropping and joining our conversation.

Then we'd have Vanya that'll feed us our daily snacks. She was like a mama bird; Hearing the rest of us complaining and bickering then feeds us the goodies to shut our mouth. It honestly worked every time and now I start to wonder if that was her trick all along.

After our snack was nap time, where Klaus and I would lay there for two to five hours, usually get up when the sun was down. Then we would plan our night, typically out for dinner or a night out if it was the weekend.

But our schedule, our precious paradise time was ruined by the one and only. Luther Hargreeves.

It wasn't supposed to be this way; Allison would go out to run errands, Ben worked all day like the responsible man that he was, and Five would just be Five, roaming town and doing God knows what. Luther would be home to research and dig through dad's old stuff.

Today however, wasn't the case.

He instead came in during mine and Klaus' precious nap time, groaning and yappin' about some girl on an app. Didn't know why he had to do this in the family room but there he was.

'Do you not see us sleeping here?' I complained as I lifted my head from the pillow, trying not to move a lot so that Klaus could stay asleep.

'Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to be loud.' He apologized as he stared at his phone, depressed and upset.

Klaus rolled his eyes. 'Well you are and you're still here.'

Luther froze in place, continuing to stare at the screen. Klaus and I looked at each other, nudging one another to see who was going to talk to him first.

The both of us got up, sitting down side to side as we looked at Luther and back at each other. Klaus seemed like he was unbothered, so I sighed and broke the silence. 'What's wrong buddy?'

'Nothing.' Luther frowned.

Squinting my eyes, I grabbed the pillow from the couch and threw it on Luther's head. 'You bitch! You woke us up from our nap and you're going to say "nothing" is bothering you?'

'Ow!' Luther rubbed his head. 'Okay, okay. Damn. It's this girl on tinder, she doesn't want to go on a date with me.'

'Well, what did you tell her? Did you say something stupid?'

Luther got up, 'See. This is why I didn't want to tell you guys becau-'

'Sorry, sorry.' I stood up and pulled Luther back onto the couch. 'Mind if I see the conversation?'

His face immediately turned red, 'Uhm. Do you have to?'

'If you want me to figure out why she's turning you down, yeah.'

Hesitantly, he pulled up the messages he had with the girl and then passed me the phone. Scrolling through the messages, I shook my head. 'Luther, she's DTF.'

'Yeah, I know that's why I don't understand why she turned me down. She brought it up first.'

Klaus blinked, 'What do you think DTF stands for?'

By the look on Luther's face, I knew he was confused. He looked over at the ceiling, thinking for a while before he replied to Klaus. 'Don't tell me I was wrong this whole time.'

'So what do you think it says?'

'Uhm... Date This Friday?'

Klaus awed, shaking his head as he left my side and took a seat next to him. He wrapped his arms around Luther, 'Buddy. No. That's not what it stands for. But that's cute of you.'

'Wait, huh? So this whole time me and her were on the wrong page? What did she mean then?'

'She wanted to fuck you.' I blurted, I felt bad that Luther was so confused. 'It stands for Down To Fuck.'

It was a dead giveaway that he had no clue what his whole conversation really meant, his whole face turned redder than ever. He buried his face into his hands. 'Oh no.'

'I didn't think you were talking to girls, honestly.' Klaus chuckled. 'You clearly got game, your noggin is just a little... outdated.'

'I got what? Game? No, I just deleted Candy Crush, it was too addicting.'

Klaus kept his laugh in, curling his lips as he slowly nodded back at his brother. 'Oh my gosh.'

✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤

It had been about two weeks, helping Luther get a dream girl that he deserved. Despite Luther being the annoying sibling, he had been there for me countless times and I wanted nothing but the best for him.

We've tried talking to the girls on the app, few weren't looking for anything serious, some trolling in the messages. After constant matching and messaging, Luther found someone he potentially saw a relationship with.

'Did you check your message from Claire yet?' Klaus asked.

'No. I'm kind of nervous, actually.' Luther laughed a little under his breath, shaking his legs as he gripped onto his phone.

Resting my hand on his shoulder, I reassured him. 'Don't be nervous, I'm sure she said yes to your date.'

Luther sighed, turning on his phone and scrolling through his messages. As his face lit up, he jumped off his seat. 'She said yes!'

Klaus got up and cheered, hugging Luther tightly. 'I knew it! So what time and where?'

'Ah- Uhm. Why... do you need to know?' Luther paused.

'Cause we're coming to watch.'

'No, no, no. I don't need you two spying on me. I'm already nervous as it is.'

'Yeah, Klaus let's just let him be. He's a big boy now.'

'But-'

'Let's give him the space he needs, Luther definitely needs his alone time with his girl.'

Klaus rolled his eyes, 'Okay. Have fun and tell me everything when you get home.'

A smile hasn't fade away since he saw the text; He was grinning widely than ever, never seen him this happy in my entire life. 'This is going to be so awesome!'

'Good luck buddy.' I smiled as I watch him do his little happy dance going up the stairs to get ready.

Klaus groaned, crossing his arms and pouting like a little child. 'Why can't we go spy on Luther?'

'But we are. I just wanted him to think we weren't.' I wanted nothing but the best for Luther, if it meant that he was going to have a perfect night with his perfect date, I was going to be protective of my brother.

'Perfect! I need to get my spy gear on.'

✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤ · ✤

With the binocular in my hands, I looked into the restaurant Luther picked for the both of them. 'Oh my gosh, he looks so cute with his little bow tie.'

Luther was blushing, talking nervously with Claire. It seemed like it was going well, no awkward moment or embarrassing moment between them.

I looked over at Klaus, who was being too quiet next to me in the passenger's seat. He had a rather thick file in his hand. 'What are you reading?'

'Claire's life.' Klaus chuckled. 'She's smart as hell, really pretty. I'd say we did a pretty good job helping Luther.'

'How did you get a file on her life?'

Klaus smiled innocently, 'Ah. I followed Diego into his ex's job and got Ben to steal it for me.'

'You what?' I leaned my head back, staring at the car ceiling as I sighed. 'Klaus, Eudora is my friend. If she finds out that you stole someone's files from the police department, she'd hate me.'

'My bad, Y/N. If it makes you feel better, Ben rejected me a bunch of times. I made a deal with him that he could take over my body for three hours for the files.'

'Whatever.' Looking through the binoculars again, I asked him another question. 'So you didn't ask Diego to get it for you?'

Klaus shook his head. 'Nah, if I ever told him I knew he'd want to come with us to stalk Luther. I wanted some Klaus Y/N alone time.'

'Aw.' I said but immediately stopped. 'Are you saying this to make me forgive you?'

'Is it working?'

'Depends how the night goes.' After a sarcastic smile, I snatched the file off of his hand. 'Why did you want to steal this anyway?'

'You ask so many questions.'

'I know.'

It was rare for Klaus to do "the responsible thing", that was more of a me, Allison or Five's criteria. I couldn't think of a possible reason why he'd go out of his way to take a file to investigate on this girl.

'It's Luther, you know. I wanted to make sure he was going out with someone that won't screw him over again.'

'That's the nicest thing you've ever said.'

'Luther better appreciate this because I'm not going to jail for this shit.'

I smiled at my brother. 'Don't worry. I gotchu.'

A loud scream came from the entrance of the restaurant, Luther approaching us quickly as he eyed the both of us.

'Duck!' I yelled at Klaus as we tried to hide ourselves from his sight.

'Don't bother. I saw you guys from the restaurant!' Luther said as he knocked on the window. 'Why are you guys here? You told me you wouldn't come.'

'I know, I know.' I rolled the window down and squealed as I reached for his bow tie. 'I just couldn't resist! You look so adorable, brother.'

He grunted, 'Stop. Guys go home, you're going to ruin this date with the woman that I love.'

'Woah! Love!?' Klaus and I said in sync.

Luther covered his mouth. He mumbled into his hand. 'Pretend I didn't say that!'

'Pretend?' I laughed, 'Luther. I can't pretend, I'm sorry. That was sort of funny. A little little little bit cute but mostly funny as hell.'

Klaus reached over me to grab onto his hand. 'Dude, you're already whipped but that's okay. But Y/N's right. It's a bit funny not going to lie.'

'I'm whipped?' Luther cocked his head. 'I don't do that sort of foreplay during se-'

'Luther, that's not what it means!'

[fridayfirefly]

Virtual Sleepover

Read Virtual Sleepover on AO3

Masterlist

Written for Maribat March Day 4 - Internet Friends

Quarantine had been rough at Wayne Manor, but for Tim Drake, Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a bright light through it all. Tim was getting ahead of himself, though. The story of Marinette Dupain-Cheng started on March 20th, 2020. Panic over coronavirus was sweeping the nation. Bruce had gathered all of the members of the Wayne family into the dining room to explain the new rules of the house. No one was to go in or out. Groceries would be delivered to the house. There would be no superhero outings for at least two weeks. Tim didn't think his family would be able to survive, trapped in a house together.

So to preserve his sanity, Tim turned to the internet. There were hundreds of cold cases that he had put on the backburner and hundreds of forums and websites dedicated to solving cold cases. Tim turned to the most popular website and started dumping information, hoping for someone to show up and work through it with him. That's how Tim met Marinette. @MarinetteDC showed up on his page with a friend request, a wide range of technical knowledge about textiles and designs, and about seven different theories on a murder case Tim considered all but unsolvable. Her sleep schedule was just as chaotic as Tim's and she also drank a near-inhuman amount of coffee. Marinette Dupain-Cheng enthralled Tim. And when the chaos of his house threatened to make Tim lose his mind, Marinette became his lifeline.

"Can you hear me?"

Tim nodded. "Yep!"

"Nice!" cheered Marinette. Tim relished the opportunity to see her face, even if it was through a zoom call. "So what do we want to do first? I don't have class until Monday, so we have the whole weekend ahead of us."

"I think we should start with the iconic sleepover classic: truth or dare," suggested Tim.

"Alright. Truth or dare, Tim?"

"Dare." Tim was confident in his abilities to pull off any stunt she might come up with. However, his confidence started to fade as he watched a devious look grow on her face.

"I dare you to bake a batch of cookies - any kind of cookies you want - without using a recipe."

Tim blinked, trying to recall the last time he had baked. Besides a few times helping Alfred out in the kitchen, Tim wasn't certain that he had ever used the Wayne Manor kitchen for anything other than brewing coffee and heating frozen pizzas. "Could I have a new dare?"

Marinette shook her head, the grin on her face demonstrating exactly how much fun she was having, watching the panic in Tim's eyes. "I'll give you one hint on how to make them, but only one, so use it wisely."

Tim groaned, unplugging his laptop from its charger so he could move it to the kitchen. "I'm not actually certain I know all of the ingredients in cookies. Or how long you bake them for. I feel like an hour is probably too long, but I feel like half an hour might not be enough time."

On the other side of the screen, Marinette tried to stifle her giggles but was unable to keep them all in. "No offense Tim, but this is going to be a disaster. I can't wait."

Tim let out another groan. "Must you torture me?"

"How about you keep the laptop camera pointed towards the oven, that way I can tell you once something starts to burn?" Marinette joked.

Tim knew that she was teasing, but honestly, he knew he could use all the help he could get. Still, he wanted to preserve at least a little of his dignity. "Very funny," Tim said sarcastically, setting the laptop down on the kitchen counter.

"Start with ingredients," Marinette advised.

"What all goes into a chocolate chip cookie..?" mused Tim. He got out the flour, white and brown sugar, eggs, butter, vanilla extract, and three different types of chocolate chips that Alfred kept stocked.

Marinette raised an eyebrow. "Is that all?"

Tim cast a wary gaze upon his ingredients. It didn't seem like enough, but at the same time he couldn't figure out what he was missing. Tim sighed. "I'm ready to use my hint. Tell me what I forgot."

"You forgot to get out the salt, and more importantly, the baking soda," advised Marinette.

"Can I have a second hint?" asked Tim as he gathered his two missing ingredients.

"That depends on what you're asking," teased Marinette.

"I'm going to start listing measurements, and you tell me if it's too much or not enough."

Marinette pretended to think it over before replying, "I'll do it, but only because I want the cookies to come out edible, not because we're friends or anything like that. There are no friends in the Dupain-Cheng kitchen," said Marinette, her voice filled with faux seriousness.

"Lucky for me, these cookies are being made in the Wayne kitchen, and we're all very nice here, and we don't let Tim burn his cookies."

Marinette giggled. "You have a point there," she acquiesced. "Start listing your measurements."

Tim grabbed the measuring cup and starting approximating. "Two cups flour?"

"That will make about five dozen cookies."

"One cup of each type of sugar?"

Marinette shook her head. "You'll want a 3/4 cup of each."

The rest of the measuring process proceeded smoothly, with Tim guessing measurements of fluctuating accuracy (he correctly guessed that he would need two eggs, but his guess of a half-cup of baking soda led to Marinette questioning whether he had ever been in a kitchen before).  Once Tim got the cookie dough mixed, spooned out onto a tray, and put in the oven, they resumed their game of truth-or-dare.

"Your turn, Marinette. Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

Tim tried to think of a good question to ask. "Since you've now seen how abysmal I am in the kitchen, I want to know one thing that you're terrible at."

Marinette scrunched up her brow. "It's nowhere near as bad as you're inability to crack an egg-"

Tim winced a little, remembering the painstaking process of digging out fragments of eggshell after he completely shattered it in his attempts to crack it.

"-But I have really bad depth perception. I trip over every little crack in the sidewalk. I'm probably the clumsiest person you'll ever meet."

Tim chuckled. "And here I thought you were perfect."

Marinette grinned. "Almost perfect. Truth or dare?"

"I'll pick truth this time, and hopefully avoid being humiliated again."

"I'll go easy on you this round. When was the last time you lied, and what was it about?"

Tim combed back through his memory of the past week, trying to pick out the last time he lied. "I think it was yesterday morning. Dick asked me if the coffee I was drinking was my first coffee of the day. I said yes, but really I hadn't slept that night so I just decided to arbitrarily count my start of the day at the time I would have woken up had I actually gone to sleep."

"So how many coffee's had you had yesterday?"

Tim shrugged. "Since midnight? Probably three or four. I've gotten away with a lot more coffee since I modified the Keurig in my room to stop making so much noise."

"I'm lucky," said Marinette. "My parents sleep so far away from me that they can't hear my Keurig."

"Truth or dare?" asked Tim, continuing the game.

"Truth."

"What's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done because you had a crush on someone?"

Marinette flushed red, and Tim immediately knew that this was going to be a good story. "Once I accidentally sent a text to my crush so I stolehisphoneanddeletedthetext." Marinette rushed the last few words, so fast that Tim couldn't quite make them out.

"What was that?"

"I stole his phone and deleted the text before he could read it. In my defense, I made a lot of questionable decisions at that age."

Tim burst out laughing. "How old were you?"

"I was thirteen," admitted Marinette.

Tim couldn't stop laughing at the absurdity of her claims. "You couldn't have asked him to borrow his phone and deleted it then?"

"I was in panic mode. It was between steal his phone or destroy his phone."

"Those were your two options?!" exclaimed Tim.

Marinette blushed even more furiously. "It's your turn. Don't expect me to go easy on you this round. Truth or dare?"

Tim kept up the trend. "Truth."

"What was the worst thing you did at thirteen?"

Tim thought back to his days as Robin, and the many, many stories he could tell. In the end, he settled on one that Jason still brought up when he needed leverage over Tim. "It's not as bad as phone thievery, but it's still a pretty funny story, looking back on it. You know how I have two older brothers, right?"

"Dick and Jason," Marinette confirmed.

"Well, one night I managed to convince Dick to let me drive Bruce's favorite car. Now, keep in mind, I had never actually driven a car before. Surprisingly, I wasn't that bad at driving. I made it home without incident - that is, until I tried to park the car back in the garage and accidentally crashed into Jason's motorcycle. For years after that, Jason used the threat of telling Bruce about my little car crash to keep me in line."

Marinette snorted. "You think that borrowing a phone to delete a text message is worse than borrowing and crashing a car?"

Tim shrugged. "It's a matter of opinion. Truth or dare?"

With a roll of her eyes, Marinette said, "Truth."

"What's one thing you would never tell me?" It was the sort of question that could only be asked during a game of truth or dare. In Tim's opinion, it was this sort of question that made the game worth playing.

Marinette pouted. "I don't like that question."

"Too bad. The rules of truth or dare state that you have to answer it."

"Fine." Marinette looked up at the ceiling, deep in thought. Just as she turned back to face her laptop, her face lit up. It was evident that she had an answer. "Usually I let people learn from their mistakes in the kitchen. However, I will now tell you - because I have to - that your cookies have been in the oven for too long. They're going to start burning if you don't take them out soon."

Tim jumped up to get his cookies out of the oven. They looked a little burnt, brown rather than the golden-brown that Alfred would make, but they still looked edible. "I'll accept your answer, but only because you saved my cookies."

"Now that your cookies are done, do you want to finish up our game of truth or dare?"

"One last question," decided Tim. "And I'll pick truth, to make it easy for you."

"What's the biggest secret that you've currently keeping from your family?"

After Tim's last question, he had expected Marinette to follow it up with an invasive question. Luckily, her question had a very simple answer.

"Easy question - my friendship with you."

Marinette looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"Most of my friendships begin through the connections they have to my family. Because of that, I've never really had serious friendships that my family wasn't actively involved in."

"It's not because you're ashamed of me, right?" Marinette sounded unsure of herself. Insecurity was a side of her that Tim had never seen before.

"Of course not," Tim assured her. "You're the best friend I could have ever asked for, Marinette."

"Good, because you're not getting rid of me that easy. I still have a lot to teach you about baking. I think we might try cupcakes at our next sleepover."

Tim laughed. "We'll see about that." He had no doubts that there would be sleepovers to come, and shenanigans involving baked goods to go along with them.

@maribatmarch-2k21

[ectonurites]

My least favorite type of fic!Tim is when he’s portrayed as depressed/very mentally and emotionally unstable, but also at the same time as someone who is like lauded as being super dangerous/the most skilled or something like that?? Those fics where Tim is chugging caffeine and barely sleeping, but characters are still like “oh I wouldn’t wanna piss off Tim he is Dangerous” and that’s annoying enough but then there are fics that at the same time as that portray him as like on the edge of a breakdown. It’s very irritating even if I’m not sure I can articulate exactly why, it just really rubs me the wrong way. Like, I definitely do think Tim has some issues with depression and stuff, but in fics like those it’s treated more like a quirk sort of instead of a serious issue

LMAOO I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT i’m not a fan of that either. I’m apologizing in advance if I sound mean in any of this critique i’m about to give of that fanon version of him. I want to preface this by saying that people can write whatever the hell they want, like, they’re allowed to! And I’m not referencing/calling out any specific works here. Just trends. But I’m gonna bitch about some things I’ve noticed that annoy me, personally. (so again, not saying other people can’t enjoy this stuff! just. not for me)

so like sorry if im mean but this is just me ranting and also this is my blog anyways so:

(nobody take this as an attack on them please because it’s really not)

The problem is a lot of those fics seem to interpret Tim’s behavior in Red Robin (& especially like that last whole arc of his Robin run also by FabNic) as if that’s his normal, rather than the result of a few years of CONSTANT traumatic incidents pushing him to a breaking point (because while all the shit he went through with his Dad, Steph, Kon, Bart, and then Bruce dying was spread out over several years for us as readers, it’s regarded as like within two years in canon! It all happens when he’s 16 and 17. According to the Batman comic right after War Games, Jack was murdered only days after Steph died.

(Batman #634)

That’s a LOT to process for one kid jesus christ) 

I love Red Robin honestly, I do, but it is about Tim at the lowest points in his life. It’s the grand finale of Tim’s story, and everything crumbles, that’s kinda the point! The end leaves him in a position to either rebuild himself or fall apart. It’s all about how he chooses to continue after this point!

(Red Robin #26)

The way he acts and the things he does in that comic should be regarded as such. He can’t live the way he does in Red Robin forever or he will literally burn himself out/become something unrecognizable, like, jesus it’s kinda even acknowledged in the comic when he thinks about what his potential futures would be if he keeps it up like he’s doing:

(Red Robin #25)

He sees himself as dead, as Batman (which he has countless times said he doesn’t want to be and at this point in his history almost every time he’s seen a future he became Batman in he had become a killer), or needing to retire and taking over an Oracle-esque role, likely because he exerted himself too much to continue. 

When you look at him around this same timeframe when he’s not isolating himself/too deep into the mission and is instead working with his friends back on the Titans, you can see that he is starting to heal and work in a more positive direction. He’s choosing to work on coming out of this rough period by being together with his friends who he loves.

(Teen Titans (2003) #100)

Not to say that you can’t write about situations in which he doesn’t start to come out of it, but if you are doing so it’s something you should be taking seriously because that’s the idea you want to explore, not just acting like it’s perfectly okay or normal? (And again, there are a lot of works that do explore it in good ways, there’s just also a LOT that don’t)

Like, so much content I see just make any sadness and depression and tendency to over-work himself that’s rooted in his traumas (which! those do have a basis in canon!) into a quirky personality trait rather than a response to trauma. Acting as if he’s always been this way and it’s normal for him. That’s what bothers me. If people want to seriously explore the effects of all these incidents and how that plays into his ability to do his job as a hero, then hell yes do it! But when it all gets brushed off as ‘oh thats just tim, he just doesnt eat or sleep or feel any happiness but like its fine he’s just always been like that’ I feel my blood boil. 

This also often strikes me as related/tied to fanon’s seemingly never-ending quest to make Tim into this victim of so many things he really wasn’t. They make his childhood 10x worse than it actually was (yes he was lonely because he was sent to boarding schools rather than having his parents around, but he was NOT just left home alone all the time as a child. 

(Batman #441)

He snuck away during a school vacation week to follow Bruce one (1) time and to then track down Dick. This is established in his introduction story! PLEASE read Lonely Place of Dying!) and it just... going with those fanon assumptions as being true changes so much of how people characterize him! 

Some people will also (not to call out tim/kon shippers especially because I  literally am also one but) vilify the shit out of Steph and make their relationship out to be some abusive thing rather than just... a messy teen relationship between vigilantes because they had really complicated lives and baggage with one another? Which they both acknowledge they made mistakes in!

(Red Robin #10)

Or people will vilify the shit out of Dick in regards to the situation at the start of Red Robin, or literally just make anyone who Tim ever had a disagreement with out to be the bad guy despite the actual situations always being way more complex and multi-faceted than that.

And then on top of all that, aside from making him into this ‘im broken 24/7 and not doing anything to fix it also everyone around me is terrible to me’ type of character, because he’s a lot of people’s favorite, they also want him to be as cool and strong as he is at his high points. So they’re projecting all this stuff onto him that makes him what should be a barely functioning person but then also act like that’s fine and he’s able to be a dangerous badass on top of it. 

Like I’m sorry but someone who is going out and actively acting as a vigilante like that which is incredibly physically taxing is NOT surviving on coffee alone and no sleep. That’s literally not possible, he’d fucking collapse. (And like, again, if you want to explore him pushing himself to that point, that’s one thing! but acting like he can manage all of that for more than a few days at a time/maybe while working on one really tough case is nuts!) and like, even canon can be a little guilty of this type of thing particularly since the New 52 (Detective Comics 2016 had more than a few references to him barely sleeping, but at least they also made references to him eating normally/healthily and he wasn’t completely self isolating or anything) (and also that comic had him be so self sacrificial he was ready to die to save everyone and only didn’t die because of Mr.Oz’s interference, he’s definitely not in his best place there) but usually it’s still within some realm of possibility.

Also like. The fanon ‘chugging coffee to survive thing’ just annoys the shit out of me because, like, yes there’s a few moments in canon where he’s under a lot of pressure and pushing himself further than he normally would and had some coffee (one of the only times I can even remember him having it on panel is... oh... during that last Robin arc I just mentioned a little while ago shouldn’t be where you source your normal characterization of him because it’s a very difficult situation that pushes him further than he normally would go! huh!) But the thing is like, people play it off for laughs, or like it’s a normal thing he would do at any time in his life! If you want to explore him pushing himself and using coffee as a crutch, like, there’s ways you can write it that takes it seriously, but almost every time I see it come up in fics it is like a core part of his personality and just ‘oh haha silly tim always with his entire pot of coffee he must chug every morning or he’ll die :^)’ And that bothers the hell out of me. 

In general it’s just... people treat Tim so weird. They want him to be so many different things that he’s shown himself to be at different times for very specific reasons, except they want him to do all of it at the same time which just doesn’t work. A person can’t function like that, and it’s not even close to who he is in canon. 

Again, people can do what they want, and this is just my opinion obviously, but yeah. My two cents on the matter.  Read Lonely Place of Dying, read Young Justice, read his Robin run. Read his comics and get a feel for who he was before all the rest of his trauma, and see how he canonically reacts to it along the way. I know reading comics can be tough for some people but so much stuff just echo chambers and becomes barely recognizable in this fandom and it’s just... a shame when it happens with a character ya love. 

[firefly464]

The Real World - Chapter 6

Ok I’m really curious to see what you guys think of this one. Let me or Pami know what potential theories you may have because thats always very interesting 👀. 

Also I dunno if I’ve mentioned this before but constructive criticism is always welcomed and very much appreciated! I’m always looking to improve as a writer, and I’ve found that critiques 

Made in collaboration with @i-have-this-now

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~~~

Dream stepped into the small building that had been dedicated to peace negotiations. It wasn’t much other than a single room with a long table, but the tension inside could have been cut with a knife. On one side of the table sat George, Sapnap, Punz, and Eret. All four were tense, ready to attack at any moment. It was completely different from the joking, playful atmosphere that has surrounded them that morning. Sapnap glared at the masked man as he entered the building, likely considering just how many different ways he could strangle him. Dream was once more thankful for the mask covering his face, as he turned away with a grimace. 

On the other side sat Tubbo and Fundy. The L’Manberg side of the table was filled with a very different atmosphere. They both wore expressions of very hesitant hope. Tubbo turned to Wilbur as he walked in, his eyes asking a silent question. 

The older man gave a small nod, his face revealing nothing. A of disbelief spread over Tubbo’s face. “What's the catch?” he asked hesitantly, staring at the masked man for an answer. 

A very small smile formed on Dreams face, although it was hidden to the younger boy. He shrugged, saying, “None. The Dream SMP surrenders to L’manberg.” 

The skeptic look on Tubbo’s face only increases. 

A low growl emerged from Sapnap’s throat. “Dream, you can’t do this,” he hissed sharply.

Dream ignored him, pulling the document from his bag. He rolled it out on the table. On the top of the document, in big, bold letters, read “Treaty of Surrender.” Under that, the words “By signing this document, the Dream SMP hereby recognizes L’manberg as its own, independent nation.” Below, in smaller print, was a list of different agreements. It wasn’t complex, mostly just outlining the basics of any peace treaty. But everyone knew what it meant. 

A quill sat in a small inkwell on the table. With a steady hand, Dream picked it up, and signed the paper. He had nearly started to sign his actual name, but had managed to catch himself last minute. Setting the quill down, he glanced at the men sitting at either side of him. “I require that at least one of my own men signs this treaty as a witness,” he declared, staring them each in the eye individually. 

The resulting silence was palpable. Not a single person stood, offering to sign the document. ‘They’re all too prideful. They don’t want to admit defeat,’ Dream thought as he looked at them. 

2 to 3 minutes passed in silence. Then, something surprising happened. Eret stood, staring at the paper with a furrowed brow. “I’m still becoming king, right?” he asked.

Dream nodded. He had figured that Eret had been promised the position by the other Dream, so he had made sure to include it. “Of course.” 

“Then I will sign.” In a swift motion, Eret signed the document and tossed the quill onto the table in front of Wilbur. 

Dream sent his friend a relieved smile. “Thank you Eret. Now then. Wilbur, it is your turn to sign.” 

Wilbur quickly read over the terms of surrender and signed the document, Tommy signing as well as witness. 

The entire room seemed to hold its breath as the quill scratched against the paper. It felt like the entire world had let out a huge sigh of relief the moment Tommy picked the quill back up. Dream smiled and rolled up the document. “Well then. The treaty shall be kept in here for safe keeping. You guys are good to go if you want,” he said, trying his best to sound official and important sounding.

Apparently it worked. Tubbo stared at where the document had been sitting moments before. In a soft tone, he whispered, “we did it…” 

Wilbur placed a hand on Tubbo’s shoulder, and very quietly replied “Yeah. We did it”

~~~

Dream watched as Tommy, Wilbur, Fundy, and Tubbo all left the small building. He had been hoping to leave as well, but one look at the people around him told him that wasn’t going to be an option. He gulped nervously. 

The moment that the L’manberg soldiers were out of view, Sapnap was on his feat, sword in hand. He stormed over to Dream, pinning him to the wall, blade across his neck. His face was twisted with anger and rage. “You son of a bitch what the hell was that about?! What the fuck were you thinking?!?!” 

“I have my reasons Sapnap,” Dream choked out. It was the second time in 24 hours that someone had held a sword to his neck, and it wasn’t a trend that he particularly enjoyed. Hopefully, it was a trend that wasn’t going to continue. 

“Bullshit! You swore to me that you were going to win this war! Not that you were going to fucking surrender!” He cried, pressing the blade into Dreams skin. Small beads of blood started to form where metal met skin. “We had them! We fucking had them and you went and threw it away like a coward!” 

“I didn’t realize that letting people live was such a crime Sapnap!” Dream shouted back. “I didn’t fucking realize that it was illegal to feel pity or sympathy!” 

His friend stared at him, before putting even more pressure against the blade. Dream was starting to panic slightly “I didn’t follow you to be lectured on granting mercy, Dream. I followed you because you swore you would win.” he took a step back, allowing Dream to fall to the ground at his feet.

Dream coughed several times, trying to recover from his windpipe being crushed. He pounded a fist to his chest, trying to clear his airway. When he looked up at Sapnap, he was greeted only with a kick to the chest, sending him sprawling across the floor. The mask, so carefully fixed by someone he had thought of as a friend, had flown across the room. Dream didn’t care. He wanted that mask gone. 

He lay there on the ground for a minute, trying to desperately catch his breath. “Wh-why…?” he asked, the words coming out as desperate gasps for air. 

“Heh. Never thought I would see the day when the great Dream lay at my feet, begging for mercy. Oh how the mighty have fallen,” Sapnap said with a chuckle. He turned towards the door. “I’m leaving. If you have any need of me again, you know where to find me. Just next time, I expect some actual fucking results.” 

George walked around the long table as Sapnap left, looking at his friend in concern. Eret and Punz had already left, leaving just the two of them. “I really hope you have a plan,” he said. His eyes were full of pity as he walked away, leaving the gasping man alone on the floor. 

~~~

“Dude, are you serious?” It was late at night, around midnight. Dream and Tommy were back at the training grounds, each trying to learn how to fight. Of course, they didn’t exactly have anyone to teach them, so they were both just practicing basic moves that Dream had seen George use. The results were… varied, to say the least.

As they spared, Dream had told Tommy what had happened earlier that day after the conference. “I mean, I knew Sapnap was a little bitch, but I didn’t realize he was that much of a dick here”

Dream shrugged. “He used to joke that he was like a mercenary, and only in it for the money. Guess that it’s less of a joke here.”

“I feel like anything that was jokingly on stream held some sliver of truth here. Including everyone’s personalities,” Tommy chuckled as he blocked a strike “that’s probably why no one trusts me here. I kinda acted like a complete idiot on stream”

“You still do.”

“Oh haha. At least I wasn’t a fucking psychopath”

Dream shook his head “I still don’t get why I was apparently so scary…”

“You literally sent us a voice clip saying that you would burn L’manberg to the ground if we didn’t surrender”

Dream let out a sigh “yeah… Yeah I suppose I did” 

Sensing the sudden mood shift, Tommy quickly tried his best to change the subject. “So… What about George? Is he any different from back home?” 

“George is…” Dream’s voice trailed off as he thought, trying to figure out how to put his thoughts into words. 

“George is no different from how he’s always been,” said the man in question as he stepped out of the shadows. For the third time that day, Dream found himself with the blade of a netherite sword against his throat. “Now then. Would either of you care to explain who the hell you are and what you’re doing here?” 

Tommy dropped his wooden training sword and raised his hands into the air, trying to look as harmless as possible. “George, how much… How much did you hear?” He asked, keeping his voice calm, despite the fact that he wanted to scream.

George shifted the blade so that it was now pointed at the teenagers throat, shutting him up rather quickly. “I heard enough to know that neither of you are who you say you are. What the fuck is going on?” 

Dream took a small step towards his friend, his hands up as well “Look, we’re still Tommy and Dream, I promise.” He knew that he couldn’t try to lie his way out of this one. To be honest, their best option was probably to tell the truth and hope George could keep his mouth shut. 

“Exactly!” Tommy chimed in, trying to be helpful. Dream glared at him. 

“Please. I’m not an idiot. I knew something was wrong from the moment you shot Tommy during the duel. The real Dream never would have taken off his mask, much less show any sort of regret,” George said, stepping forward so that his blade rested against Dream’s neck, in the exact same spot Sapnap had cut earlier.

“I’m still Dream, I swear! Just because I’m not fucking insane doesn’t mean I’m a different person!”

“Maybe, but the real Dream would know how to fight. He wouldn’t be flailing around with a sword like a chicken with its head cut off.”

Tommy snorted “He’s got you there. You do look really stupid.”

Dream made a choking sound in surprise “I- You look just as dumb!”

“Maybe, but at least I’m not supposed to be the world's greatest swordsman” 

“As a child, your opinion is automatically invalid”

“As a child, I automatically don’t give a shit.”

George’s eyes darted between the two, as if he were watching an intense tennis match. “Enough!” he finally yelled, shutting them both up pretty quickly. “All I want are some fucking answers!” He pressed his sword more against Dreams throat, opening the thin cut and allowing a small trickle of blood to form.

Dream gulped and looked at Tommy. Normally he would have taken control of the situation himself, but he didn’t exactly trust himself to not anger his friend. 

Tommy nodded, and started to explain their story. He told George how the two of them had suddenly been transported from their home to the SMP world. He explained how neither of them knew what was going on, or why they couldn’t leave. He even explained how back home, everyone had been friends. The war had been nothing more than a game, a show that they had put on for the sake of entertainment. As he spoke about his own home, he could feel tears start to pool up inside his eyes. He hastily tried to wipe them away, but it didn’t matter. George had already seen. 

The man lowered his sword, not once taking his eyes off either of them. “So you’re telling me that you come from a world where all of this,” he gestured around him towards the world as he spoke, “is completely fake.”

“Yeah, that sums it up pretty well,” Tommy replied, rubbing the red scar on his neck. It was a nervous habit that he had quickly picked up from Wilbur, despite the fact that he hadn’t even been there when he had received the scar. 

Dream stumbled back, using his jacket sleeve to try and stop the stream of blood from his neck. There was already a dark stain on the cuff from earlier that day. God, he was going to get a lasting scar if this continued. “We just want to get home,” He told George, “I promise, we don’t mean anyone any harm.”

George pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “You both do realize how unbelievable this all sounds, right?”

“Yeah, we know” 

“I really don’t want to believe you… But this explains so much. Is that why you trashed your base?”

“I told you I was feeling stressed. I just may have failed to mention what exactly I was stressed about”

“I knew you weren’t feeling well… I just didn’t realize it was because of something like this. That's why neither of you know how to fight anymore, isn’t it?”

Tommy shrugged “Sword fighting isn’t exactly a common sport in our world. I’ve never even touched a real sword before this week.” 

“Oh my god… Does anyone else know?” George asked.

Dream looked over at Tommy, silently asking a question. Tommy shook his head “The only person who knows something is wrong is Tubbo, and he thinks I just have amnesia from a weird enchantment or something.” 

“Are you serious? I thought we agreed not to tell anyone!”

“This was before I even knew you were here! How else was I supposed to get any information? Besides, Tubbo’s my bro. I trust him not to tell anyone.” 

“What about Wilbur…? Does he know?” George asked, his brow furrowed in thought.

“Nope. I mean, he clearly knows that something is up, but other than that he has no idea.”

“That doesn’t seem right… Wilbur should know that his second in command is missing.”

Tommy cried out in outrage, “What do you mean? I’m right here!” 

“He means the other you. You know, the one that actually lived here?” Dream said calmly. 

“Exactly. That other Tommy is currently missing. Who knows where he could be. Wilbur deserves to know.” 

Tommy let out a groan of annoyance “ughhhh fine! I’ll tell him tomorrow. 10 bucks he isn’t going to believe me.”

“No way am I losing 10 bucks like that,” Dream replied. 

“Killjoy,” The teenager muttered. 

George was once more watching them both with confusion. He looked down at his feet, trying to weigh his options. That’s when he noticed the discarded training swords. An idea sprang into his head. “What if I tried to teach you both sword fighting? I’m not the best, but the other Dream taught me, and he was the best of the best.” 

Dream grimaced. Just another reminder that he was just an imposter. Still, he forced himself to nod. “That would be good. Thanks.”

~~~

“Please, I just want to go home…” Tommy said into the phone. It had taken a bit of work to convince Wilbur and Tubbo that he wasn’t insane and definitely knew what a phone was, but they had eventually caved. 

Wilbur hadn’t wanted to question his younger friend after who knows what had happened to him. It would have just stressed him out and made everyone more upset. So he had allowed Tommy to borrow his phone to call Dream. Now, him and Tubbo were sat at the table in Tommy’s backyard, hearing only snippets of the one-sided conversation.

“What do you mean? Why not?! I won’t do anything I promise!” A couple seconds of silence. Tommy’s face went slack in shock. “You can’t be serious. No, no no no you’re joking, aren’t you. Y-you wouldn’t dare.” More silence. “Fine! I won’t, I swear! Just please don’t do it.” 

Wilbur watched the conversation with concern. He could hear Tommy’s raised voice from where he was sitting, and what he was hearing was definitely good cause for concern. He glanced at Tubbo, who looked just as worried. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I will. Bye.” A long, drawn out tone sounded from the speaker. Tommy sighed and walked back over to Wilbur and Tubbo, trying his best to hide his tears. It didn’t work.

Tubbo was instantly on alert, trying to check on his friend. “Hey man, are you ok?” He made sure not to get too close after getting hit in the jaw. 

“Y-yeah. Yeah I’m good. Just… just a bit in shock still. A lot has happened in the past week…”

“You want to talk about it?” Wilbur asked gently.

Tommy shook his head violently “No. No I really don’t. Don’t worry guys, I’ll be fine. Thanks”

~~~

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[jooniperhun]

The End of the Rainbow (2)

pairing: tall!black!reader x bts, poc!reader x bts, woc!reader x bts, black!reader x bts

genre: fluff, strangers to friends to (maybe) lovers, romance, comedy, misunderstandings, (slight) angst, smut (maybe??), idol!au

word count: 3.8k

rating: PG-16

warnings: swearing, mentions of anxiety

notes: slight sub! namjoon in here... sorry, it just wrote itself in lol

summary: Your current job as a travelling housesitter has taken you to many places, some strange and many wonderful. When the acquisition of a new client takes you to Korea for three months, you wonder if your self-esteem can survive being around so many other-worldly looking people. Also, not to be paranoid or anything, but maybeperhaps you’re being stalked by the same seven strangers? They’re pretty loud and always surrounded by a tonne of people, so you write it off the first few times.

But this shit is getting excessive, chile. And annoying…

Rhetorical question, but what lies at the end of a rainbow? You hope that it’s a pot of gold, but with the way that your luck has soured, it might just be seven short(er than you), rowdy leprechauns ready to flip your world sideways…

Chapter 1

She was going on her first social outing in Korea (the source of the K-Dramas that she loved so much that she ended up learning the language), and ___ would make damn sure that she looked her best during it. 

Rounding her top lip out by lining over her cupid’s bow then filling the lip in, ___ took her concealer and ensured that her lip-liner wasn’t a crooked mess. That task done, she swabbed a glob of lipgloss across her lips, rubbed them together, then applied her fake moles. The cool mist of setting spray wafted over her face.

___ smiled at herself in the mirror, happy with her appearance and checking to make sure that nothing was in her teeth. Her 18mm minks blinked back at her, lightly brushing the tops of her blushed cheeks. She hadn’t done The Most™ this time, as her revered 25mms were still preserved within their cases, but her face was still Beat For The Gods™.

Her ripped, highwaisted jeans pinched a bit at the fatty flesh that peeked between her belt and the edge of her cropped top, but she had long-since grown used to this sight. In fact, she had even come to love that part of herself. She was jiggly in places, and that was a-okay. 

As she still had some time before she had to leave to catch her train, she decided to kill it by locating the window that let the most sunlight in and taking pictures there. It wasn’t golden hour, as it was one in the afternoon, but the lighting was just right, regardless. The contrast between the cool, sophisticated tones of her room and the browns in her clothing and skin made for some immaculate self portraits. 

___ had long since learned to become her own photographer, as her height was a bit too tall for any modeling agencies to want to even consider her. Not to mention that her status as a black woman made opportunities just that much harder for her to procure. Yet, even with years of experience, self-modeling was still a bit awkward for her, and that translated in quite a few of the pictures that she had taken.

In the end, after she had ensured that the house keys and her wallet were in her purse and that Mickey had enough food and water to tide his cute little self over while she was gone, many of her pictures had been deleted in between her stepping foot out of the house and her ride to Times Square Mall. 

She was so invested in her phone screen on the train that she didn’t even notice the many stares that she gathered. From her large, beautiful afro to the mile-long length of her shapely legs, many native Koreans took in the rich, alluring aura of the black woman for the first time in their lives. The fact that her face was set in it’s usual intimidating expression was the only thing that put them all off of bothering her.

She was going to this mall mainly to see the world’s largest cinema screen, but the arcades and plentiful high-class stores also appealed (respectively) to her childish and bougie sides. Even though ___ knew that she was gonna do a whole lotta window shopping (her expensive tastes and her income didn’t correlate), she was quite ready to blow a lot of cash during her entire 3 month stay here.

Stepping off of the train and into the subway, ___ had never felt as small and alone as she did then, surrounded by all of these people who didn’t look like her. Not for the first time since she’s started the whole ‘cross-country housesitter’ stint, ___ wished that she had a friend with her. Alas, she was currently chasing a bag, and since it comes with all of the free travel and awesome cultural immersion, something had to be compromised. In this case, ___ would just have to try to make friends while she was here, but she’s not really all that hopeful of that outcome, what with her slight social anxiety and all.

Speaking of which, it was currently flaring up as she squinted at the signs, trying to navigate herself through the crush and towards the upper mall. Somehow, she ended up outside and in front of the large, intimidating buildings made of glass. The mall was so big that it had to be split into Gates, like at the airport. Taking note of the gate number that she was entering and hoping that she’d be able to find her way back to the train station from there, ___ stumbled through the spinning doors and immediately went about locating a map.

The noise inside was deafening, as it tended to be in malls. While the majority of the people inside were Korean, foreigners lulled about as well. It made ___ feel a little less alien, though the way that she towered over most of them subtracted a bit from that. Subconsciously, she started sucking her stomach in, which let up a bit on the pressure from her jeans and shifted the gait of her walk into something less relaxed and more confident. 

___’s first task was to find where the cinema was, as her movie was scheduled in an hour and a bit and she didn’t want to miss it by looking for it last minute. Luckily, the maps were in abundance and pretty easy to read. She decided to spend her time exploring the place by slowly making her way up the five floors. The first store that she went into had a strange, yet forgettable, name. It was a large department store with many women and children strolling along the walkways. Tables and shelves, almost overflowing with neat stacks of books, formed little islands. Between them, the polished, blank screens of electronic devices shone. The store didn’t really have anything that piqued her interest, so she ended up leaving pretty quickly.

This was the trend for the rest of her leisurely walk around two of the five floors that the mall had. On the third, something finally caught her attention— a small cafe tucked around the corner of the many cosmetic stores on the floor.

Walking in felt like stepping into a cozy, surreal painting. The scent of freshly grounded coffee beans wafted through the air and intertwined with the sweet aroma of baked pastries. Dark wood set in warm-toned cushioning curled around the shop, creating such a warm, homely atmosphere that ___ felt like she had stepped into an entirely different world. Already, several people were seated with cups of their own beverages and plates full of cakes and other desserts. Some were patiently waiting in line, face-masks pulled up and glasses perched on noses. A few people lounged in their respective areas with books in hand. Some were seated at the small dining tables, typing away on their laptops. Others chatted quietly with one another.

Somehow, the hustle and bustle of mall life grew hushed and muted in this small, quiet corner. 

The soft crinkling of pages being turned accompanied ___ on her way to the line. Already, she could taste the sweet, milky flavor of her boba contrasting with the sharp coffee of tapioca pearls. 

Across the room, dark eyes trailed her figure. Her wardrobe of choice and the rich tones of her skin made her fit seamlessly into the shop. As hard as he tried to pull his eyes away from the stone-faced beauty and back to his book, Namjoon found that he couldn’t. He didn’t know if it was the swing of her hips or the bounce of her voluminous hair that kept drawing his attention, but he knew that he had to kill whatever thoughts he was having, and quickly. 

Simply put, Namjoon didn’t have the time to go fraternizing with a virtual stranger. He had seen many beautiful women in his time as an idol travelling the world, and he knew better than anyone how time consuming even a simple one night stand could be. Before he even approached someone, he had to think about how any leaked information could damage the group’s reputation. And then he had to think about preventative measures to make sure anything like that didn’t happen, and actually carry those measures out. Even though most of the legal stuff like NDA’s and other contracts were handled by the company, sasaengs were still everywhere. All it took was one picture of his naked, turned back, and they would be on him and his brothers like a particularly stealthy group of leeches.

Not to mention, Namjoon was not a man with many earthly desires— at least, not anymore. He preferred to spend his time out in nature or in museums, either with or without a book, in search of a higher understanding of himself and of consciousness. Time was very precious to idols as busy as BTS because very rarely did they ever get any outside of the judging lenses of cameras or people. How the other members wanted to spend their free time was up to them, but Namjoon would prefer to spend his either in silence, or with his brothers in silence. 

And yet, his gaze continued to stray towards ___ as she moved forward in line. The music sweetly crooning from his airpods didn’t help the matter any farther, either. If anything, it set his own atmosphere to ‘romance’, rather than the initial ‘chill and relaxed’ he was going for. 

Now at the front, she visibly towered over the cashier, long limbed and slightly awkward in the way that only tall people could be. 

“H-how can I help you today, ma’am?” The dark-haired cashier stuttered, looking up at her warily and carefully avoiding her eyes. While she had served many foreigners in her years working at the mall, blank faced people were always a wild card. Sometimes they were extremely rude. Other times, they were perfectly polite. She could never tell with them, unfortunately, and, with the way ___’s face already punted her into the ‘scary’ category, her not inconsiderable height added to the cashier’s wariness as well.

However, all it took was one smile in greeting to crack her icy demeanor into thousands of tiny, little pieces. The sharp slant of her dark eyes, relaxed into narrowed slits that mirrored aloofness and displeasure, curved into merry arcs framed by lashes that brushed the flush of her cheeks. Her full lips, naturally slightly tilted down and shimmering with gloss, stretched upwards into a sweet smile. The plumpness in her cheeks swelled at their highest points beneath her eyes, transforming her face into something soft and honeyed, like dough. 

Suddenly, ___ was too adorable to look away from. 

“One bubble tea (originally flavored) and…” here, ___’s eyes swept across the cafe, briefly glancing over Namjoon (who’s table only had a single book, his airpods case, and his phone on it) in search of a snack to eat, “a slice of whatever that guy over there is eating, please.” ___’s voice, at a slightly lower register than usual as a result of disuse, gently filtered into Namjoon’s area. She had pointed in the direction of a nearby table with two young men calmly chatting with each other. Only one had an actual plate with food on it; the other had a single cookie loosely clutched in his hand. A wrapper divided the table between them. The cake in question was multilayered and looked as if each fluffy partition would dissolve satisfyingly on the tongue.

The cashier, with relief, went about her job of ringing ___ up and making sure that the order was received by the barista. ___ held the straps of her purse tightly to stop her hands from shaking too badly, feeling anxious being surrounded by strangers in such a private environment. She moved to where she could pick her order up and waited in the smaller line there, pulling out her phone and pretending to be busy so that people didn’t think that she was a total loser with no friends.

She felt the familiar prickling in her eyes that occurred whenever she felt embarrassed or overwhelmed, absentmindedly scrolling through her photo gallery and mentally trying to will the emotion away. It felt like everyone was watching her, which made her feel very exposed and self-conscious. She had to remind herself, over and over again as she briefly glanced around the vicinity, that everyone else was too caught up in their own lives to be paying her any attention.

Except for Kim Namjoon, who’s identity remained concealed behind his large, dark shades and fitted, dark mask. He considered just leaving the little sanctuary that he had carved out for himself here, as he kept getting distracted with ___ being directly within his line of sight. And, if he was being honest with himself, it was only a matter of time before a fan recognized him (disguise and all, with how often some of them watched him).

Still, Namjoon found himself glued to his seat, watching as ___ received the tray with her order and glanced around to find an unoccupied table. The only vacancies small enough to seat just one person without it looking weird were... in the area that he had secluded himself within. 

She took slow, slightly hesitant steps in his direction, carefully keeping her back straight and her hands as steady as she could get them in case her purse slid down from her shoulder and jostled the tray. 

Who the hell wears shades indoors? ___ asked herself as she passed Namjoon and settled into a seat behind him. Wait, that’s kinda insensitive. He could be bli— then, she peeped the edges of the whole ass book in his hands and stopped her train of thought. What are the chances that that book is in braille, though? 

Not wanting to be offensive, even in her own thoughts, ___ stopped thinking entirely to reorganize herself at the table. She perched her purse in her lap and dug her phone out of it’s confines, rooting around for her airpods while she was at it. If she was gonna be alone in this large ass mall, she was at least gonna be alone in style and rhythm. 

Her airpod case had a cute little sunflower pattern on it. She stuck both of her small, stickered airpods into her ears and started her music, pulling her camera app up and snapping a quick picture of her snack before taking her first bite. 

Her eyes almost rolled back at the taste.

I just know that if this shop was any closer to the house, my fat ass would be in this bitch every day.

The cake slice was gone with a quickness. If she wasn’t saving her stomach until she got to the food court, ___ would have definitely gone to order another. She pushed the tray with the dishes into the empty space on the table and grabbed her boba. The mellow flavor worked wonders to relax her as she scrolled through her photo gallery, editing the pictures that she had approved of earlier on the train.

Her little bubble of contented solitude wavered when Namjoon shifted into a stretch, popping his tensed joints and rolling his ankles around. He was still trying to recover from her scent’s surprise attack on his nose. When she had walked past him, it was like a bomb of cocoa butter and coconut went off, blending almost sinfully with the rich aroma of coffee and the sweet undercurrent of baked bread. 

This guy is giving me major creeper vibes, ___’s thoughts went back to the stranger again after his movement caught her eye. Even when her attention went back to fixing the lighting in one of her photos, some of her focus was still on him.

Of course, there wasn’t a day in Namjoon’s life when he didn’t do something embarrassing as a result of his own clumsiness. Overconfident in the integrity of his chair’s balance while he leaned back and stretched to his fullest extent, he was in for quite the shock when he tipped over with a mighty crash! 

His book went soaring through the air behind him, sliding to a stop at ___’s foot.

___, who has just placed one of her airpods on the table as she dug through her purse to better listen out for the jingling of her small makeup bag, jumped in surprise, jostling the table and sending her airpod flying in Namjoon’s direction.

It hit him in the head and knocked his own airpod out of his ear, as well. One rolled to the floor and skittered away. The other got lost somewhere between his face and his clothes. His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose and stopped awkwardly at his top lip, stuck. 

The quiet shop went even quieter. People’s heads began turning in their direction.

Namjoon froze, and slowly, his face began to fill with red. A man dressed nondescriptly in black stuck his head in from the cafe entrance, looking for the source of the sudden noise. He began making his way towards his charge once he got a proper grasp on the situation, pulling his walkie-talkie out and silently mummering into it: “All clear, here. Just Kim-ssi being clumsy. Have medics on stand-by, just in case he or anyone else is hurt.”

Before, ___ had only been able to see the broad expanse of his back and his biceps shifting as he flipped to a new page. Now, with half of his face exposed and his eyes staring straight up at her in mortified shock, ___… still couldn’t really say much about his features. He was upside down and still pretty concealed, after all. What patches of skin she could see were quickly turning deeper and deeper shades of vermillion. It was weirdly... cute.

���Um… are you okay, hun?” ___ asked with a pointed, concerned look. Her voice, still low and smooth like velvet, ran subtle waves across Namjoon’s ears. She placed her bag aside and slipped out of her seat, reaching down to grab the book at her feet and walking over to where he was lying prone on the ground.

By the time she had reached him to help him up, his bodyguard had as well. He attempted to block her from going any further as he pulled him up to his feet, but ___ was simply too tall for that to be effective. Namjoon felt himself beginning to curl inwards with all the eyes still on him, but easily suppressed the reflex with his years of 1) being a professional at concealing his emotions, and 2) embarrassing himself on camera.

“Haha, sorry guys. I’m a bit clumsy sometimes.” He bowed to the shop and rubbed the back of his neck apologetically.

“Kim-ssi, are you hurt anywhere?” The bodyguard asked. It took ___ a bit to remember that people were usually addressed by their last names in East Asia, as she had really questioned if the guy in front of her was really named ‘Kim.’

“No, really— that was a pretty loud fall.” She peeked out from above the manager’s head, still holding his book. The only thing on her mind was returning it and retrieving her airpod once he affirmed that he was a-okay.

“Oh— y-yeah, I’m okay. I-I’m used to stuff like this so I can’t really feel it anymore? Sorry about all the noise, haha.” He gave an awkward little laugh (—and probably an awkward little smile, but that remained unseen), shyly rubbing his neck again and making an aborted motion to cover his mouth with his hands before he remembered that it was already covered with a tiny strip of cloth. Inwardly, he cursed himself for stuttering. That was one of the largest tells of nervousness!

___ didn’t really pay his flustered fluttering any mind, however. She slipped around the man standing in front of her and held his book out towards him with a toothy grin. “I felt that. I stub this one toe of mine so often that I don’t even flinch anymore. Anyways, here’s your book.”

Her closer proximity suddenly made Namjoon realize that he had to look up to meet her eyes, and it made his increasingly rattled behavior even worse. To think that he had just begun to calm down, too...

“A-ah, thanks.” Even his fingertips were red as he reached out to accept his book back, but he could luckily just play that off as a slight stinging left over from his date with the floor. “I think something hit me in the head earlier, too, and it knocked my airpod straight out of my ear.”

___’s eyes widened as she subconsciously reached up to touch the ear that still had music lowly puttering into it. “I’m so sorry!” Here, she gave a quick, shallow bow. “I think that was actually my airpod! The sudden noise shocked me so badly that I accidentally knocked it off of my table!” Suddenly, it was her turn to look embarrassed. 

Okay, I’m ready to leave. That’s enough embarrassing yourself for one day, girl! She thought to herself, already beginning to scour the floors for her missing appliance.

“This is slightly awkward to ask, but have you seen it since it hit you? It has a little sunflower sticker on—”

When she turned her attention back to him, she found his bodyguard already beginning to usher him in the direction of the exit, uncaring that the tiny little music device that she spent an arm and a leg on was still missing.

“Okay, that’s just fucking rude.” ___ muttered in English, dropping her formal tone and proper pronunciation as she righted the weird guy’s upturned chair and continued her search alone. Luckily, the small dab of white was easily distinguished against the dark, hard-wood flooring of the cafe. She’d have to clean it thoroughly when she got back to the house. For now, she’d have to settle with the unbalanced feeling of having just one in her ear. Slightly irritating, but doable. 

Unbeknownst to her, Namjoon’s keen hearing caught her judgemental words and the ignominy almost crushed him. How many times had he embarrassed himself in front of the pretty girl, already??? Too many times to count.

He’d never live it down if the guys got wind of this, but there was no bigger gossip than a Bighit staff member. Sometime within the week, his business would be someone’s morning discussion. He reached up to adjust his dark gray beanie, pulling the edges over his ears to hide the reddening tips.

Tangled in the excess fabric of his high necked shirt, a single airpod with a sunflower sticker hid.

[holdouttrout]

2020 Reflections and Resetting for 2021

This is a bit long, so I’ll cut it, but I’ve been missing doing these annual posts so... if you want to read on, please do!

Fannish The Big Fandom of the year for me was the Locked Tomb, the series by Tamsyn Muir that starts with Gideon the Ninth. I read and re-read the two books (so far) several times, and while right at this moment the fannishness is lying dormant, it is coiled in my soul, ready to strike again at any moment. Otherwise, I ended up doing a lot of reading and watching. I revisited a bunch of Star Trek, which was and remains delightful. I wrote some Han/Leia fic, which is always fun, especially since the people who enjoy Han/Leia are lovely and discerning! Video Games My big game of the year is Crypt of the Necrodancer, which is a fun little dungeon game where you have to move with the beat. I beat the Necrodancer once and now I gotta do it again, except harder and I haven't figured out the trick yet. Books Other than Gideon the Ninth (and Harrow the Ninth), I enjoyed many, many books. According to Goodreads, I read 64 books. That does not include the many re-reads of various books. Many of these books were read because of @that-silver-girl, who is a great reading buddy and excellent at cajoling, begging, and demanding I read good books. If I had to pick five of my favorites (again, besides the obvious), they would be: Or What You Will, by Jo Walton. Jo Walton is one of my favorite authors, someone who manages to combine fantasy with philosophy speculation in a way that makes me think, and although this book took a while to grab me, when I did I was all in. A Memory Called Empire, by Arkady Martine. I adore fish out of water stories, and this one had a lot of strangeness and cultural misunderstandings and Honorable People and political intrigue. This is How you Lose the Time War, by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone. This book is SO GORGEOUS. It's very descriptive and dramatic and hints at the world(s) involved rather than giving you a concrete setting, and I adored it. Maybe my actual favorite book of this year. A Gentleman in Moscow, by Amor Towles. This book was a book club book that I would and could recommend to just about anyone. We ended up reading it just as the social distancing measures really took hold here, which was sort of ironic timing, but it was such a good, hopeful book that it went straight to the top of my list. Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead, by Olga Tocarczuk. I haven't yet managed to get anyone to read this book--I tried to get my book club to read it, but they passed on it, probably because of the title. I really loved the main character and the setting. It ended up feeling very down-to-earth and practical in a way I find really satisfying. In other book news, I finally started legitimately keeping track of and writing little "reviews" on Goodreads. So… you know, if that's your thing, come find me. I cannot guarantee I say anything about books worth saying, but I'm trying to let go of my need to be perceived as intelligent about my book choices and enjoyment. Fun Well. Fun was certainly fraught in 2020. I didn't have anything too big or adventurous planned in the Before Times, and then the Current Times meant that the most adventuring I did was two quiet weekends to the beach, visiting my aunt. Those trips were very wonderful and healing, and I only regret that I wasn't able to spend more time with her and her partner in the past. I'm very grateful about how my friend group(s) have really tried to move online. One of my gaming groups moved to Zoom and Roll20 right away, and I think maybe we missed like… one week while we figured it all out. Another group has gotten going since then and I'm having fun with that, too. I had an outdoor social group during the spring and summer that is having to move more virtual now that the weather is colder again. My book club has transitioned to virtual meetings pretty well, too, and I have a small intergenerational discussion group through my Friends Meeting that has become a lovely, stable place for me. Writing This is mostly meh, but I have started to write a little bit here and there more recently, especially with the Discord Writing Group I'm participating in now. May that trend continue. Music I have kept up playing piano (probably even more because of social distancing and being home more than I would have otherwise). It is a very centering place for me. I also managed to get a few recordings of myself playing Christmas tunes so I could send them to my mom, and that felt like a real accomplishment. Physical Activity I walked quite a bit in spring and summer, and even fall wasn't too sedentary, but uh… winter started off rough. This last week, my grandma (who broke her LEG a few weeks ago) and I made a deal that we would both take a walk on days it wasn't raining. So far, that's meant EVERY DAY and I have stuck to it (I know she will have!). 2021 Okay, so I don't make resolutions. I don't. But I do think of goals that I want to accomplish and write them down, so it's understandable that some people might think they are resolutions. Books and Other Media I want to start reading more non-fiction, so I've identified 6 non-fiction books to read in 2021. (I'm starting off with a small goal.) I also have 2.5-3 small shelves with books I have not yet read, and I have about 9 books on hold from the library. I'd like to go through the books on hold and the to-read shelves, even if that just means deciding I'm not going to read the book on the shelf that's been sitting there for years after all. I also have a list of movies to watch, so I'm going to try to watch one of them from that list each month. I'm definitely not holding myself to that very strictly, especially since the books thing is already going to be more of a project, but there are plenty of just plain fun movies on that list that I sort of forget are out there when I'm choosing what to watch. I also really, really, really want to do a Farscape Rewatch. It's been ages since I've seen the show, and it's time! Learning, Practicing, and Doing For piano, I really want to re-start practicing how to play from chord notation. This is something that I wish I'd learned how to do a long time ago. I want to re-start my ASL learning as well. I have a plan in place for it, and just hope I can actually do it. I have a couple of sewing projects I'd like to work on, but I won't feel any guilt if I don't get to them. I'm considering how best to make an impact on areas of social justice that resonate with me, and I have the theory that it might be more effective to focus on ONE area and not fracture myself into a million pieces trying to fix EVERYTHING. This is less of a goal than it is a consideration, so it needs some work to turn into a plan.

[nobodyfamousposts]

Just Like The Butterfly, I Too Will Awaken In My Own Time Part 2

The first time he saw her, Hawk Moth’s immediate thought had been “butterfly”.

It was impossible, of course, because he held the Butterfly Miraculous.

“Nooroo, what Miraculous does this girl hold?”

“I couldn’t tell you.” Nooroo replied. And this was true, because she didn’t have a Miraculous as far as he knew.

Gabriel frowned but stayed silent, so Nooroo continued.

“There are plenty of other Miraculous in the world. There’s the Bee and the Spider. There may be a Silk Worm out there that I have yet to meet, given her proficiency with those ribbons.” Also true, because there were other Miraculous he knew of and likely many more he didn’t.

Nooroo did not lie. Kwami could not lie to their users, after all. But they could certainly leave out information they felt their user was not ready or fit to know. They could also misdirect. Reply to any questions with plausibility and vague “what ifs” unless commanded to answer directly.

He was rather good at both, as much as he disliked doing so. Sadly, the current situation made such deceptions necessary. To aid his potential rescuer. To protect his current Champion. If it meant doing something he despised in order to lessen the harm he was being forced to inflict, he would choose to do so as the lesser of two evils.

It certainly helped that his wielder was a fool.

As long as he remained cowed, Gabriel did not question him. He volunteered excess information, trying to appear “helpful”. But the information he provided was more than Hawk Moth needed but less than anything that would actually serve any use to him. And of course, the man in his foolishness never looked beyond any of it to realize that for as much as he was being told, he really gained no true answer.

True to this, Gabriel simply nodded and accepted the answer without pressing further. Nooroo felt relieved, but that did nothing to ease his heart.

For all that Nooroo tried to protect his new chosen, nothing could stop the guilt he felt.

The girl was unaware. She wouldn’t know what she was doing—what he was having her do. He was disrupting her life. Turning her into a puppet in a manner so much worse than any of Hawk Moth’s victims.

They at least had a choice.

She was not allowed the same courtesy.

Desperation makes people do strange things. Nooroo hated it.

Still…

It was easier to ask forgiveness than permission.

_________________________

Marinette was scared.

The first time it happened, she thought little of it—at least little more than any other victim of the akuma attack at the time. She simply assumed that she had been hit by whatever the akuma in question was using to control people and was simply relieved that no one was killed and that the damage was kept to a minimum.

The second time was little different. She woke up after the akuma attack in a different place than she’d last remembered being with little idea of what had happened or how she had gotten there. She only found out a few hours after the fact that an akuma had attacked again. She must have been knocked out or made into another of the akuma’s victims, as much as the idea grated on her. But it was the only explanation she had for the strange circumstances, so she accepted it with little trouble.

It was the same with the third time.

And the fourth.

And the fifth.

Truthfully, she didn’t know when exactly she started to notice, but the thing about trends is that they are eventually picked up on. And after so many akuma attacks that she had no memory of and no one who could account for her presence during any of them, Marinette couldn’t help but start to question the oddities.

Because in at least a couple of those instances, she knew she was nowhere near the attack when she lost consciousness. She shrugged it off at first, because it was certainly possible that there had been a stray blast in a couple of those battles that went off course and was able to hit her without her noticing—and wouldn’t that just be her luck?

But she couldn’t deny after a while that there had been a good many attacks and she wasn’t aware of a single one of them. Even her other classmates could at least report on one akuma and where they had been at the time, but she never knew about any of them until it was already over and she suddenly found herself in some random street of Paris in a daze.

She eventually started to realize what was happening, and it didn’t make any sense. She didn’t understand it at first, but sure enough, the conclusion became clear. 

She wasn’t the only one who started to pick up on it, either. Her parents have grown increasingly concerned at the state they would find her in at the strangest of times. They were especially upset when they would bunker down during an akuma attack with no idea where their daughter was. She was never with them, and even in the few instances where they had known where should be or when she had even told them specifically where she would be, they were horrified to discover she wasn’t there—not in her room, not at school, not with any of her friends, and completely unreachable. And that this was a constant for every fight, no matter where she should have been at the time?

She was offered sleep aids. Home remedies. Special teas. All manner of suggestions on diet and exercise and techniques. Warnings and alerts. Her parents rearranged their schedule—one of them awake at all times to keep an eye out.

Nothing helped.

Her parents were worried about her.

SHE was worried about her.

She was starting to fall asleep constantly now and she just…couldn’t wake up. And it scared her, because she didn’t know what she was doing or where she’d wake up next. She didn’t even know what she had been dreaming during these times. She kept falling asleep without realizing it and waking up somewhere new with no idea how she got there.

And the more time went on, the more akuma attacks there were, and the more this kept happening, she couldn’t stop the growing fear.

Because what if…what if she was the one behind it all?

Was she…doing something? Was she responsible for this somehow? Was she hurting people?

She didn’t know. And she was so scared.

When her condition became more evident, her parents took her to a doctor.

Falling asleep suddenly was one thing. Sleep walking was another. It shouldn’t have been possible to have both. Yet that was what they found was happening.

“Narcolepsy”, he called it. Like it was just a minor issue to suddenly black out on a regular basis and find herself somewhere else without any memory. With that diagnosis in place, they started to prescribe medications and various remedies—anything to try and mitigate the issue.

Nothing helped.

Her parents were discussing equipping a GPS tracker on her. She wished she could say she was simply embarrassed, but quite frankly, she was too worried to be. Because where was she going? What was she doing? Why was this happening?

She didn’t know.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to.

And she was so, so scared.

With time, she started to recognize when it was coming. There was a sensation—an unsettling feeling of falling and drowning all in one. Like she was being pulled away somewhere. But when she returned, she didn’t feel like she was fully back, either. It was like…

It was like she lost a piece of herself each time.

And her fear only grew.

With fear comes desperation. And desperation makes people do strange things.

At one point when she started to feel that tell tale drifting sensation, she panicked and barely managed to tie her hand to a nearby pole with some of her crafting ribbon she happened to have on her before she lost consciousness. She woke up several streets away with only a few strands of the ribbon still held in her hand. She wasn’t surprised by the result, but this did give her an idea.

The next time, she was more prepared—both in that she was more aware of the sensation when it was coming and in that she’d made sure to have a belt on her for easy use. She woke up later that evening still in the same room thankfully, but with a bruise around her forearm and a torn belt discarded on the floor in front of a window she was sure had been closed earlier.

During a brief stint of friendship with Sabrina, she’d managed to get a hold of a pair of her father’s handcuffs. She hated herself for both the theft and for taking advantage of the girl in such a way, but she was so scared and getting more and more desperate. Then came the next incident where she successfully handcuffed herself to her own desk at school and prayed that would be enough. But when she next woke up, she was on top of a building with one handcuff still around her wrist and little left of the chain.

She broke down in sobs.

It really was her.

[jingabitch]

An Arrangement for Convenience ch.1

Summary: It's ridiculous that girl groups aren't allowed to date, and are kept under such strict lock and key that they can't satisfy their desires. Enter Ha-eun, YG's solution to the problem.

Pairings: Jennie x oc, eventual ot4 x oc

Warnings: oral sex (f receiving) | sex work 

A/N: Wrote this a while back and posted on ao3; reposting here because I want to be more active on this platform. While I currently have 8 chapters written which I will be releasing on Tumblr gradually, I am currently on hiatus due to school and work commitments and will not be actively writing and posting new stuff until the semester ends in December.

Series index

She supposed it was a step forward for the feminist movement in Korea. Even if female idols were expected to be cute, sexy and yet sexless at the same time in the public eye, it counted for something that talent agencies were at last realizing that it was unrealistic to expect female idols to refrain from partaking in the same vices that male idols did.

It was well-known that male idols slept around during the free time, especially on tour when they were away from girlfriends and wives for extended periods of time, but apart from admonishments to be safe, careful and discreet, no one really gave them a hard time about it. Female idols, on the other hand, were kept under lock and key, which was really quite unfair.

What was the most surprising to Ha-eun was that it was YG that appeared to be the pioneer of this new trend. She’d entered the sex work industry about a year ago, when she moved to Seoul for college and had to pay her own way when her parents disowned her for coming out as bisexual. All right, maybe the fact that the confrontation had been precipitated by them catching her with her face between her teammate’s legs hadn’t helped matters.

It hadn’t been all bad, she supposed. The money she’d gotten as an escort had been decent enough, enough to pay her tuition fees and keep a roof over her head. She lived in a rooftop apartment near campus that was tiny, cramped and way too hot during the summer, but it was enough for one person. It was also flexible, since most of her work was ad-hoc, which allowed her to arrange her work commitments around her academic schedule, helping her keep her grades up.

But then the call had come two weeks ago. Her little brother had been diagnosed with leukemia during a routine health checkup. Ha-eun might not be on speaking terms with her parents, but she adored her brother. He’d been the first person she came out to, and had just reacted with a shrug and an “I already knew that,” before going back to his video game. During her first year of college, he’d been the one to keep her sane with his unwavering support.

So she had her brother come to Seoul, where he would get the medical care he needed. She’d moved into a bigger, more comfortable apartment for him, near a university hospital, and taken on the burden of paying for his medical bills by herself, since their parents could never have afforded it. It was actually rather impressive how quickly she’d gotten things done for him to move out to Seoul, but Ha-eun would willingly move heaven and earth for her brother.

Which brought her to her current situation. Sitting in a spare meeting room in the YG headquarters, with all the blinds down for discretion, waiting for Blackpink to come meet her. While she was waiting, she perused the file in front of her for the millionth time. She’d been approached by a manager almost immediately after she started asking around for better-paying opportunities, and he’d named a figure so attractive she couldn’t help but be intrigued.

Signing a nondisclosure agreement just to discuss the job opportunity candidly had been a surprise, especially since girls in her line of work knew to be discreet anyway, but just the thought of her little brother sitting at home sadly, unable to finish his final year of high school with his friends, made her sign in an instant. Background checks had followed, an embarrassingly thorough health checkup, and finally, the last hurdle she had to clear, meeting the girls themselves to see if they would be interested in this arrangement with her.

She’d been informed by the manager who’d spoken to her that she’d been approached because of her sugar baby-slash-escort concept. Not every client who came to her wanted sex; in fact, many of them were just lonely and wanted companionship, which she was more than willing to provide. If she said so herself, she wasn’t a bad conversationalist, well-read with a sharp wit. She also didn’t shy away from forming personal relationships with them outside of the bedroom, or providing the romantic experience she knew many of them missed. It didn’t hurt that she was apparently adventurous enough in bed to meet the requirements the girls had demanded, some of which were so outlandish she was convinced they’d been trying to make it impossible to find someone.

Essentially she was to enter an exclusive arrangement with Blackpink to provide them with sexual services, the details of which had been left intentionally vague. “You’ll be negotiating that with them directly if they like you,” was all the manager had told her.

She could work with that.

The door opened and she stood up reflexively, respectfully greeting the four girls as they filed into the room. “Good afternoon,” she said politely, bowing. Her heart thundered in her ears. Not only was she in the presence of a world-famous band (and, if she was being honest, her girl crushes), but it was imperative that they like her too. She thought of the incoming medical bills and increased rent she’d committed herself to. The stakes couldn’t be higher.

“Hmm… she’s cute enough,” she heard Jennie observe coolly.

Her head jerked up in surprise. The four of them were still standing together, just watching her. Jennie’s lips were pursed in thought, her fingers raised to her lips thoughtfully. None of them were smiling, all watching her with dark eyes, looking intimidating and unfriendly.

She gulped. It looked like they were using their stage personas to scare her off, and it almost worked. They hadn’t quite banked on how determined she was to win them over, though. She had a performance persona too, which she slipped into as easily and comfortably as if it were a second skin.

“Thank you,” she said, letting a coy smile play about the edges of her lips. She looked down slightly then peeked up through her lashes at them, a move that never failed to win her clients over.

“Aww, what a pretty pet,” Lisa cooed, and Ha-eun had to restrain herself from jerking in surprise. Pet? How unexpected. It wasn’t something she hadn’t heard before, but she wouldn’t have expected it from Lisa.

“Did we say you could speak?” Chaeyoung asked with a raised brow.

Ha-eun bit her lip, trying not to squirm on the spot. They were being rude and standoffish, but God help her, it was working for her on a level she didn’t really want to think about too hard. “No, ma’am,” she whispered, looking down at her shoes. Christ, she was creaming in her panties and they’d barely even said anything to her.

She tensed as she heard footsteps coming toward her, looking up just in time to see Jisoo come to a halt in front of her. Fighting the urge to take a step back, she quivered in the position she stood in as Jisoo raised a hand to her head. “Good girl,” she crooned, stroking gently, then she fisted her hand in her hair and yanked her head back. Ha-eun gasped as Jisoo forced her to her knees.

Biting her lip, she continued staring up at Jisoo, her breath coming in excited pants. Jisoo leaned over her with a triumphant smirk on her beautiful face, causing Ha-eun’s heart to speed up. Domination was a fairly common kink, one she was happy to indulge among her clients, but she wouldn’t have pegged Jisoo for one.

“Jisoo-unnie,” Lisa called, breaking the spell. “This isn’t the time or place.”

Just like that, Jisoo snapped back into control, the dangerous gleam in her eyes gone. “You’re right, Lisa-yah,” she said, moving over to one of the seats in the meeting room. The rest of them followed suit, looking so nonchalant and composed it was like nothing had even happened. Ha-eun stood up on shaky legs, fixing her skirt and running her fingers through her hair to try and fix the damage Jisoo had caused.

“Manager-oppa, we’re ready for the papers,” Chaeyoung said, leaning forward to press the button on the intercom. Her eyes didn’t leave Ha-eun the entire time, a dark and intense gaze full of promise.

On the other end of the intercom, Ha-eun heard a crash, then some papers ruffling quickly. “R-really?” the manager she’d spoken to asked, sounding incredulous.

“Yes, manager-oppa,” Lisa confirmed in a sing-song voice, the lilting tone completely at odds with the lascivious wink she shot Ha-eun.

Sinking back into her seat, Ha-eun wondered a little wildly what she’d gotten herself into.

A second later, the manager burst into the office, holding the contracts in hand. Ha-eun skimmed the contract, then signed it, finding nothing objectionable in it. The terms were fair and generous: the girls would contact her whenever they felt like it, apart from the dates and times that she’d indicated ahead of time she wouldn’t be available, so she wouldn’t have to worry about them contacting her in class. Outside of those times, it was expected that she would make every effort to be available to them if they needed it. Ha-eun raised a brow at the final salary indicated in the contract. There’d been a ten percent increment from the quote provided during the negotiation process, but when she pointed it out, the manager just waved a hand and told her to consider it his thanks for ending the quest to fill this role.

The rest of the contract read a little like a D/s agreement, something she shouldn’t have been so surprised by given what had just happened. Anything new would have to be discussed beforehand and if any party was uncomfortable with what was happening, they would stop immediately and talk about it. Ha-eun was not to engage in sexual relations with people outside the group without prior permission, and if it happened, she was to take every precaution possible.

Once everything was signed, Ha-eun cleared her throat nervously. “So… that’s it, then?” she asked, fiddling with the hem of her skirt. She wondered now what she’d been thinking, wearing a pencil skirt and blouse to the meeting like it was a job interview.

The manager shrugged. “I guess. The official business is done. Whatever you girls want to do next is your own business.” Then he left the room.

“Um…” Ha-eun said, watching him leave.

“Ha-eun-ah, do you have anywhere to be?” Lisa asked, looking relaxed with her chin propped up on her fist.

“Uh, not till tonight…” Ha-eun said, checking the time on her phone. Another three hours before she had to get back home with dinner for her brother.

“Would you like to come back to the dorms with us? We could get to know each other,” Chaeyoung offered. The words were innocuous enough, but the look she gave Ha-eun suggested that she would be getting a head start on her duties if she said yes.

“Uhh… sure,” Ha-eun agreed. Not that she could say no anyway, as per the terms of the contract.

“Excellent.” The way Jennie drawled, wearing that sinful half-smile, made Ha-eun’s pussy clench. She bit her lip, the rush of attraction and relief that she’d actually gotten the job making her emotions hard to control.

It was a short ride back to the dorms, Ha-eun squished between Lisa and Chaeyoung in the back of the van. Now that the contract had been signed, they seemed more relaxed with her, the younger two in particular becoming more friendly. Ha-eun was two years younger than them, and Lisa joked about her relief that she was no longer the maknae of the group, even if the public still thought she was.

Ha-eun’s heart warmed at the thought that she was going to be accepted as part of the group. Because of her work, she’d tried not to get too close to her schoolmates at college. She had a few study buddies and acquaintances, but she was all too aware that her culture was still traditional and conservative, and didn’t need the judgement or labelling that she was sure would come if they found out about her sex work. It was worth it, and she’d told herself that it was only temporary, until she graduated and found a proper job, but it still got lonely sometimes.

Chaeyoung and Lisa were surprisingly chatty once they let their guard down, and it was easy for Ha-eun to open up to them, telling them about her university major (international business), her hometown (Daegu), and the apartment where she lived (it was a shithole, but they were welcome to come hang out if they wanted to, she supposed).

By the time the van pulled up outside the building, Ha-eun felt much better about the job she’d committed to, perhaps too hastily. The manager bid them goodbye and drove off, leaving the five of them to their own devices.

Once back in the apartment, Ha-eun couldn’t help but look around curiously. “Huh,” she murmured to herself.

“Ha-eun-ah, what is it?” Lisa asked.

“Nothing, Lisa-unnie.” The honorific slipped easily from her lips. Lisa was the one closest to her in age, and accordingly the one she felt most comfortable with at this point in time. “It’s just… a little smaller than I imagined from Blackpink House,” Ha-eun confessed.

The two younger girls laughed in delight. “You watched it?! Ha-eun-ah, are you a Blink?”

Ha-eun flushed deeply and said nothing, though the redness spreading down her neck answered her question.

They laughed and wrapped an arm around her each, guiding her to the couch.

Jennie, though, had other ideas. She swooped in and grabbed Ha-eun’s hand, pulling her away from the two younger girls.

“Hey!” they protested, but didn’t kick up too much of a fuss.

“Jennie-yah…” Jisoo said, a clear warning in her voice. She’d thought she would be the first to enjoy Ha-eun, being the oldest one.

Jennie didn’t even turn around to look at Jisoo when she shot back, “Shouldn’t have stolen my favourite vibrator, unnie.”

Sulking a little, Jisoo nonetheless let it go, knowing the younger girl was right. She’d been holding on to it for two weeks now, and could sometimes hear Jennie’s moans of frustration through the wall separating their bedrooms.

(She would have felt worse about it if the same vibrator didn’t work magic on her own body, too.)

“It’s my turn next,” was the last thing Ha-eun heard before Jennie pulled her into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

“So, um… how do we do this?” Ha-eun asked, sliding close to Jennie. God, she really was gorgeous, especially up close where Ha-eun could see her eyes dilating in arousal. “Do you want to talk limits, kinks, any of that stuff…?”

Jennie exhaled harshly, feeling Ha-eun’s arms slide around her waist as she pressed soft, gentle kisses to her neck. “Fuck, we can talk about it later,” she said, fisting her hands in Ha-eun’s hair and tugging lightly. “First I want you to eat my pussy until I come, can you do that for me, baby girl?” she crooned into Ha-eun’s ear, feeling the younger girl shudder in her grasp.

“Yes, ma’am,” Ha-eun responded obediently. (The requirement that whoever was chosen enjoy submission, one of the more intimate details in the brief she’d been given, appeared not to have been there just to throw off potential candidates, it appeared.)

“Good girl,” Jennie breathed, letting go of Ha-eun to lie back on her bed, propped up against her pillows.

Ha-eun crawled onto the bed after Jennie, kneeling between Jennie’s legs. This was familiar territory for her, and she found herself welcoming it after all the excitement and uncertainty of the day. She settled herself comfortably, lying on her stomach, and kissed the side of Jennie’s left knee, bent next to her head.

“Ha-eun-ah,” Jennie warned, her tone of voice letting Ha-eun know she wasn’t feeling patient. (Two weeks was a very long time to be without her favourite vibrator.)

Smiling sweetly up at Jennie, Ha-eun continued kissing and mouthing up her thigh, letting Jennie’s short skirt cover her face when she went past the hemline.

Jennie moaned softly and flipped her skirt up so she could see Ha-eun’s face, getting closer to her pussy, still covered by her cute black panties. Ha-eun’s mouth closed over her clit and she laved at the cotton with her tongue, teasing Jennie with that innocent, wide-eyed look as she buried her face between her legs.

“Fuck, Ha-eun,” Jennie moaned, her fingers threading through Ha-eun’s hair.

Ha-eun detached her mouth from Jennie. “Is something wrong, unnie?” she asked in false concern.

Jennie glared at her. “Enough.” The tone brooked no argument and put that slavish excitement back in Ha-eun’s eyes.

“Yes, ma’am,” Ha-eun murmured as she hooked her fingers in the panties and dragged them gently down Jennie’s legs, the idol lifting her hips to help.

Settling back into her position on the bed, Ha-eun bent and blew a soft breath over Jennie, enjoying the way her abs tensed.

“Take off your skirt,” Jennie commanded, her voice strained. “I want to see that pretty ass waving in the air as you eat me out.”

Biting her lip, Ha-eun acquiesced as quickly as she could, wriggling out of the skirt and discarding it carelessly somewhere on the ground. With a shaky exhale, she got into the position Jennie had requested, her ass high in the air, as she bent her head.

“Fuuuck,” Jennie groaned as Ha-eun licked a stripe from her pussy to her clit, maintaining eye contact with the older girl the whole time. There was something so dirty and arousing about looking at Ha-eun as she ate her out, her face partially obscured by her pubic mound.

Ha-eun smiled sweetly up at her before she fastened her lips to her clit and sucked, her cheeks hollowing out slightly as Jennie moaned and pulled on her hair. The continued pressure on her scalp was keeping Ha-eun right on the edge of subspace as she sucked and licked at Jennie’s clit, her hands bracing herself on Jennie’s inner thighs.

“Fuck, your fingers, I want your fingers,” Jennie gasped and Ha-eun obliged, sliding one finger slowly into Jennie and crooking it experimentally, maintaining the stimulation on her clit at the same time. It took a few tries to find that magic spot inside her, but Jennie didn’t seem to mind.

Once she’d found it, Ha-eun maintained the simultaneous pressure on her clit and g-spot, sliding another finger in slowly to massage it while she sucked on her clit, listening to Jennie swear and emit increasingly high-pitched gasps and moans until Jennie almost screamed as she came, pulling Ha-eun’s face deeper into her pussy as she humped at her face.

“God, fuck…” Jennie moaned as she relaxed into the covers, untangling her fingers from Ha-eun’s hair slowly. “Thank you, baby girl,” she said, patting Ha-eun on the head sluggishly. Ha-eun smiled and pressed a teasing kiss to Jennie’s inner thigh, right next to her pussy, before sitting up and wiping her mouth.

“Thank you ,” she winked. “That was the most fun I’ve had going down on someone. You taste really sweet, ma’am .” She drawled the last word teasingly, having felt for herself now how the title got Jennie going.

As expected, Jennie flushed a little, but her voice was steady when she said, “You don’t have to call me that outside of bed, Ha-eun-ah.” The implication that she expected it during intimacy made Ha-eun blush and press her thighs together against the rush of arousal that flooded her, leaving Jennie smirking at how the tables had turned.

“Come here,” she invited, opening her arms for Ha-eun.

The younger girl hesitated. “I think Jisoo-ssi might be expecting me…” she hedged.

Jennie rolled her eyes. “Bitch has my vibrator, she can entertain herself for a while.”

Laughing a little, Ha-eun lay down next to Jennie, lacing her fingers with the idol’s. “You’re really pissed about that,” she teased. “Couldn’t you just get another one?”

Jennie groaned. “Fuck, all our mail gets opened and checked these days in case there are any crazy fans. I got that one before we debuted, and I can’t figure out how to get another one.”

Ha-eun giggled and wriggled on the bed until her face was right next to Jennie’s. “I could get it for you,” she offered.

Jennie scoffed and wrapped her fingers around Ha-eun’s chin, her thumb pressing into Ha-eun’s mouth. “Why would I need another vibrator when I have this?”

Ha-eun flushed and ducked her head shyly. “That’s true,” she whispered, licking the taste of Jennie off her lips.

[tannerahonesti95]

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Reiki On Self

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[philipvcgel]

[ PHILIP VOGEL. 29. MALE. HE/HIM ] is here! They’ve lived in Silver Lake for [ 2 MONTHS ] and are originally from [ NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK ]. They are a [ GENERAL CONTRACTOR AT VOGEL CONSTRUCTION AND RENOVATIONS ] and in their downtime love [ MAKING POOR CHOICES ] and [ DISAPPOINTING HIS FAMILY ]. They look a lot like [ YOUNG J.DEPP ] and live [ ON REDCLIFF ST ]. (ooc: alex, 23, they/them, est)  

BIO BREAKDOWN

TW - mentions of substance abuse

[ 1990 - 2010 ]

Born in New York City, New York – On the Upper East side, to be exact – to a Veterinarian father, and a fairly successful Real Estate Agent for a mother.

So with that, you could say that these new parents already had some serious hopes and dreams for their new baby boy.

If only someone had broken the news to them earlier… Their son really wasn’t going to be anything special.

And it was unfortunate, really, because they saw Philip as their miracle baby. They had tried countless times to no avail, until him.

With the amount of privilege and opportunity that was already in place for this kid, they probably envisioned him winning the God damn Noble Peace Prize.

Though nothing was alarming in the beginning; Philip was fine as a child, he acted like any other kid would. Spoiled at points, lashed out when he didn’t get his way, and was mostly shy around anyone that wasn’t his parents.

That all changed when time went on and the years flew past him—especially when he was about to leave middle school. That was the true focal point of when his real personality began to sprout.

High school was the time where things fell into place, so to say. It was a time of new beginnings—everything from a first kiss, to cigarette, hook up, and first dip into the world of substances.

The crowd Philip found himself in was that of a popular variety—a little rough around the edges, but given the type of school he was in, that’s what was trendy.

During his teen years, Philip was growing to be more and more careless; doing as he pleased, when he pleased.

Parties became more frequent, and the use of hard drugs and heavy drinking was something he had to keep up with to stay on top.

And honestly, he began to love it– crave it. The rush; his vices had him hooked.

Philip’s parents felt like they barely recognized their child, and prayed that he would snap out of all of this bullshit. But that wasn’t going to be the case. Senior year was around the corner, and he was already on a downward spiral; his future wasn’t looking too bright.

In fact, Senior year really was when shit started to hit the fan. There were two instances which really fucked him up (mentioned in headcanons), and after that, he had to get out. He couldn’t live with her parents anymore, and there really was only one person he could turn to that would understand; his Uncle Daniel.

Philip’s Uncle was a solid dude– he was practically like a second father to the kid. They shared a few similarities when it came to having a rough time in life. Being an ex-addict himself, Daniel saw this as an opportunity to help shake his nephew back into reality.

Dan knew this wasn’t going to be an easy battle. Hell– the man himself still had the occasional slip up. But maybe overtime, his life lessons would end up rubbing off on him?

And that’s officially when Philip moved in with his Uncle; 19 years old, and being thrown into the family’s Construction business; forcing him to take some fucking responsibility for once.

[ 2010 - 2017 ]

From then on Philip’s road to reality was a constant struggle, an endless cycle of trial and error. Certain methods had to be changed; there were always adjustments being made to try and help him out.

The growing responsibility of work was able to distract him for a while, but it never fully went away. He’d constantly hide his addictive habits from his Uncle, continuously using the tactic of paying someone else to take his sober tests.

Philip ended up crafting this perfect routine; even on his worst slip-ups, he’d show up to work looking sober, and fucking push through it. Then when he got back home, he’d lock the door and zonk out until the following morning.  

[ 2018 - PRESENT ]

Over the last few years his journey had still been going in and out of progression, though it was sort of leaning more on improvement. Philip couldn’t confidently say that he was sober; but for him, it was sober enough.

In late 2018 there had been plans of opening up another location for Vogel Construction and Renovation. Some big spenders in California had become fairly invested in the work that they were doing in New York, and wanted to bring their ideas and talent to a new state.

There were some finite things that had to be solidified, which caused the opening process to last a little bit longer than they had wanted; but nonetheless, the second location was becoming official.

Daniel was still planning on primarily over-seeing the New York location; that was his home, he couldn’t just up and leave. Philip, on the other hand, barely had any standing attachments and was just itching to start over. Too many memories were connected with NYC that he would rather forget.

They had taken a few trips over, following the growth of their new location and finalizing Philip’s new set up. It was only until a few months ago that everything was ready, and young Vogel was able to officially move to California.

He was bumped up to the title of Contractor, and Daniel hoped that this new transition would light a fire under his nephew’s ass. Maybe some more responsibility would force Philip to grow up; Dan had faith.

HEADCANONS TW - mentions of violence, & death

The two main fuck-ups in high school were as follows: 1) There was a bit of a violent altercation between him and another guy, which would of ended a lot worse if he wasn’t stopped. It all was thanks to his on-again, off-again girlfriend at the time– let’s just say she had a history of cheating on him. 2) Philip was known for being the go-to-guy if you needed a little pick-me-up. And during a high school party, there was one dude that was constantly coming up to him. Philip wasn’t really paying attention to who was asking him for stuff, and unfortunately that led to one individual overdosing.

The rollercoaster journey of his recovery is only due to the fact that – deep down – Philip doesn’t really want to change. His addictive personality just craves to feel the constant rush of what his chosen vices do to him. When he’s under the influence, he feels like he’s on top of the world; even if in reality, he’s really not.

Keeping with the trend of Philip being completely hypocritical, his unfaithfulness stems from his toxic past relationships. He constantly has issues with commitment and being truthful (and doesn’t seem to mind), but once the same is done to him, it’s like the end of the world. Hence the fact that hook-ups are his go-to resource; even then, he still can become jealous.

Always having been interested in the alternative seen, Philip found himself – even at a younger age – hanging around in bars and night clubs, and really investing himself into the music world. If things had worked out a little better for him, maybe he would have tried going that route, but a band was never formed. He does know how to play the guitar fairly fucking well, and can even get by on playing the bass.

Jude Nolan was actually one of Philip’s best friends while he was living in New York; it just so happened to be an added bonus when Jude brought up Silver Lake to him. Philip definitely suggested the area to his Uncle after doing some research about the area, and Daniel felt a bit more lenient knowing that Jude would be close by.

[ancientbooshartifacts]

Pantomime

Author: BeansidheBaby

Year: 2008

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Howince

It was easy to forget that Vince had been raised in the forest these days. He never stopped to speak to animals any more, or told stories about Bryan Ferry and his childhood adventures. He had lost the slightly naïve wonder he used to regard the whole world with. Now he smirked and swaggered (well, minced really) with an arrogant grace, that was completely divorced from the awkwardly gangly teenager Howard had lured away from the vacuum that was state education with promises of adventure and millet rotas. Howard was shocked then, to discover that Vince had never heard of Cinderella. Later he realised that there was no logical way that he would have known. Leopards are not known for their knowledge of the collected works of the Grimm's Brothers and Bryan was more the lullaby than the bed time story type. “Howard,” Vince bounded up excitedly “What?” Howard muttered barely looking up from his copy of Global Explorer “Can we see this?” he held up a poster, “It looks well trendy. It's about a girl who gets made a princess because she had great shoes. Imagine that!” Howard looked more carefully at the poster. “Vince, this is for the panto. It's for kids,” he said flatly, “Besides you already know what happens in the end, so what's the point paying twenty quid to see some sad collection out of work soap actors and and has-been pop stars torture us with two hours of double entendres and dodgy slapstick?” “Why, what happens? Does she win X-factor?” Vince asked with sincerity shining from his eyes. Howard eyed him suspiciously. “Are you trying to say that you never heard the story of Cinderella?” he asked incredulously, “You know the words to every Gary Numan song ever written and you don't know what happens at the end of Cinderella?” “Yeah,” said Vince churlishly, “So are we going or what?” “I'll book the tickets,” Howard sighed. He had forgotten how loud it was. Even as a child he had found it all very unnecessary and tedious. It was worth it though, to see Vince staring at the play wide-eyed, whooping for the good guys and hissing at the bad guys. Howard had been ready to tackle any and all questions about girls playing boys and middle aged men playing old women, with historical background notes on the theatre prepared in bullet points, but Vince had taken it all in his stride. Typical. At the moment he was admiring the actress who played Button's tight knee length trousers. “Those are genius! Do you think that the Victorian butler look could be coming back?” he asked in Howard's general direction. Howard chose to see this as a rhetorical question, as Vince would hardly ask him his opinion on fashion trends in dead earnest. During the interval, Vince bought a bag of liquorish all sorts “to share” (translation: he ate them and picked out the plain black ones for Howard) “Thanks for taking me Howard,” he said with his cheeks full of sweets, looking more childlike than he had in years. His free hand rested on Howard's armrest, his long fingers plucking at the worn nap of the velvet. The lights dimmed and the curtains reopened. The second act was beginning. Vince impulsively grabbed Howard's hand and rested his head on his friend's shoulder. Ooh that's low, thought Howard, wait until I can't make a fuss. It didn't actually bother him very much really. But it did worry him that it didn't. He nervously reached out an arm and placed it self consciously around Vince.

Vince was quieter during the second act, not heckling the dumber heckers any more or throwing all-sorts at the people in the stacks. He just sat slumped against Howard's shoulder and fiddling with a loose thread on his sleeve. Howard sat as stiff as a board with his arm mechanically around his friend's waist, trying so hard to be nonchalant. Vince shifted and his cheek came into contact with Howard's neck. Howard flinched slightly, but tightened his grip on Vince. He spent the rest of the performance focusing solely on Vince's hot breath against his throat. When the curtain finally fell after three curtain calls (three too many, thought Howard) they rose to their feet awkwardly. Howard shifted away from Vince and looked steadfastly at the ground but, made no move to take his arm away. They walked towards the exit holding on to each other loosely but closely, bumping hips and legs together occasionally. I missed this, Howard realised abruptly. Doing stupid things with Vince that neither of them would ever normally do. Vince touching him. He told Vince not to touch him so man times that apparently he'd stopped trying. “What I don't understand is,” Vince said tiredly, “why did Cinderella marry the prince?” “Fitted the shoe. If the shoe fits, wear it,” Howard replied “No, I mean why did she want to marry him not how did she manage it. And I'm not even going to go into how unlikely it is that one person would have a different shoe size to everyone else in the country and still be able to find fab shoes” “Why wouldn't she marry him? He's the prince. That's how stories go” “But what about Buttons?” Vince insisted. How did bloody chocolate come into it? “Buttons loved her and she liked him better than anyone else she knew. Why does she drop him?” Oh that Buttons. “Button's being in love with Cinderella is supposed to be a joke. She didn't see him like that even as a possibility,” Honestly a footman who was a very ineffectively disguised girl over the heir to the thrown? “That's bullshit,” said Vince vehemently, “No one falls in love with people they hook up with at parties. You wake up, you find your clothes, you go home and never call them and they never call you. Those are the rules!” “You're absolutely right Vince. We should write a letter to Disney immediately and tell them that they're perpetuating a falsehood about the 'rules' as regards classic fairy tales,” Howard said with a sarcastic wave of his hand “Don't get shirty with me. I'd rather marry my best mate who loved me rather than some pouf that fancied me for my shoes!” Vince snapped back “Stories aren't supposed to be realistic, Vince. It's supposed to be an escape,” Howard said quietly “Haven't they seen 'When Harry Met Sally'?” Vince was patently sulking now. Howard sighed and pulled him closer and ruffled his hair. “Here don't get upset, little man. It's only a story, yeah?” “Yeah,” Vince muttered against Howard's coat. It was only forty five minutes later, when they were home and Howard was folding his clothes for the next day onto the end of his bed, that he remembered exactly what Vince had said. I'd marry my best mate who loved me rather than some pouf who fancied me for my shoes He put his shirt down carefully and sat down on the bed. Had Vince meant that literally or was he talking about some hypothetical best mate that he'd marry. Who he'd marry?! Howard decided suddenly that he didn't care if he looked like a fool and Vince teased him about this for a year. He walked towards the door quickly, gaining speed as he made his way to Vince's room. He burst into the room and just as suddenly realised exactly how embarrassing this would be if he'd gotten it wrong. And how stupid it looks to burst into a room sheepishly. Vince was semi undressed and sitting on his bed. “Took you long enough. I thought you were supposed to be the clever one?” he said casually but with a delicate tremor in his voice that was only just noticeable. “So what now?” he asked plucking at his shirt in a way that was equal parts sultry and nervous fiddling. “Vince I-” Howard coughed and blushed before looking up, “I think traditionally I would produce a white charger from somewhere and we'd ride off into the sunset” “Nah, that's princes you're thinking of,” smiled Vince, “you're my narky little butler who adores me from afar and then gives me up the second a jazzy village wench walks by” “So what now?” Howard echoed Vince's earlier question, feeling slightly hurt by the reference to his birthday party. Vince sashayed across the room until he was a foot away from Howard. He then shuffled closer until they were nose to nose (nose to chin to be completely accurate). He stood up onto his tippy toes and looked into his friend's eyes before pressing a gentle kiss against the corner of his mouth. “Vince-” Vince shushed him and laced their fingers together before resting their foreheads together. “Do you know what friends with benefits are Howard?” Oh shit, thought Howard. Vince continued without asking for an answer. “We've been sort of married without benefits for ten years now.” Hang on, what? “I want to be with you. Just you. And really with you. You know?” Was Vince actually nervous? Howard wrapped his arms around Vince and kissed him firmly. “Why me?” he asked incredulously. “Because you love me and I love you. That's usually a good reason,” Vince smirked cheekily. “I'm not. I've never,” Howard stammered, becoming increasingly aware of his friends erection pressing into his thigh. “Don't worry, I'll fix that.”

Howard shuffled anxiously while Vince's cocky grin flickered. “We don't have to do anything you don't like,” he said quietly, all traces of his earlier confidence gone. “I do want to have done it. It's just doing it makes me feel a bit funny,” Howard admitted. How did it work anyway? He knew only the theoretical aspects of how to do it with a girl, was it different with men? Obviously it was different but, how different? Did Vince want to bum him? He had somewhat mixed feelings about that and he had been sure that his feelings on being bummed had been clear and to the point yesterday. Not that he thought of it much. Hardly ever. It was scarcely his fault that Vince insisted on wearing those tight trousers that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Which unfortunately only made his imagination competitive. It was impossible to look at him and not wonder what being fucked by him would be like. It would be like going to a race track and ignoring the cars. Vince's face froze slightly. Howard realised his mistake. “Just take it slow. I'm new to all this,” he said sheepishly. This made Vince smile again, though more affectionately condescending than arrogantly this time. “Nice and slow,” he agreed and pulled Howard into a gut wrenchingly slow, sensuous kiss. Their lips slid across each other in a lazy fight for dominance. Howard captured Vince's tongue in his mouth and gave it an experimental suck. Vince groaned and muttered, “Oh Howard” into his mouth. Not with the intonation that those words usually received either, like he was a puppy that had shamed itself in the middle of the kitchen floor. No, this “Oh Howard” was a creature far removed from the “Oh Howard” of old. This “Oh Howard” was doing something very, very right. Emboldened by this success he nipped at his friend's lower lip and teased it between his teeth. That went down quite well, with Vince making a small noise in the back of his throat and pressing himself closer to Howard's body and pulling their hips together suddenly. They were both hard and straining against their flies. Howard yelped girlishly and jumped at the pressure causing Vince to break away and look up worriedly, “Too fast?” he asked nervously “No, no just right,” Howard said breathlessly. Vince flashed an impish grin before cupping the bulge in the taller man's trousers and squeezing. “Too much!” Howard squeaked. “Seriously?” Vince asked, “Sorry. Maybe we should lie down for a bit” “Ho ho, Vince. I'm not that bad,” snapped Howard. Vince waved his hands hurriedly “No, no. Look like this,” he said, grabbing Howard's hands and lay back on the bed, pulling Howard on top of him. He spread his legs and settled Howard between them before grinding upwards with his hips. He guided Howard's hand above their heads before wrapping his arms around his neck. “That good?” he asked sounding a bit winded. “Aren't I too heavy?” Howard asked concerned “Naw, I'm not made of glass. If Naboo can support a fully grown primate, I think you n' me'll manage.” Howard looked as though he was going to ask for an elaboration on what Vince had just said but, he soon forgot everything about tiny shamen and what they got up to on business trips with their familiars, when he felt Vince's sharp incisors against his jugular vein. It felt very nice and then very painful. For about ten seconds he was sure Vince actually was the vampire of Shoreditch and had seduced him so he could drink of his virgin's blood. Or something like that. And then he got used to the pain and wet suction and it was very, very nice again. Vince might be mistaken for a women with startling frequency, but from this position there was no denying that he was a man. His stubbly cheek was scraping the delicate skin on Howard's neck, there was a taut if spare manly musculature writhing underneath his body and if any doubt could still remain on the topic, the hard cock digging into his groin put it firmly to rest. Abandoning the neck, the thinner man kissed up the whiskery jaw and nibbled at a fleshy ear lobe. “We're going to have to lose the clothes, Howard. That bloody corduroy monstrosity is a mood killer if I ever saw one,” Vince muttered a wet explosion into the shell of Howard's ear. Without asking permission he instantly got to work on the practical belt buckle that was responsible for the restraint of said corduroys. “And the less said about the shirt the better,” he went on, his voice was shaking slightly from the effort of unfastening the buckle. Rather than throw a strop, Howard decided to concede this sartorial victory to Vince and started to unbutton his shirt, blunt fingers fumbling with the tiny buttons. Two warm little white hands batted his away impatiently and wrenched the garment off, sending the buttons flying in every direction. “I've wanted to do that for years,” Vince said with a voice husky with lust. Howard toyed with the idea of asking him if he meant destroy his shirt or ravage him but decided neither answer would be totally satisfying. It was better to retain some degree of mystery in a relationship. Vince wiggled out from underneath him and started undressing. There was no question of helping him. True love or not, no one manhandled Vince's wardrobe. Suddenly Vince was completely naked and Howard was down to his socks and underpants. Vince smiled at him ironically and went down on one knee taking one of Howard's feet in his hands. He hooked his fingers around the elastic and eased the sock down the foot , pausing to kiss the Achilles heel, the instep, the ankle. When the sock fell to the ground he gently sucked each of Howard's toes in turn like tiny fat phalluses. Howard was thinking in a small part of his mind that he was glad that he'd washed and cut his toenails recently. The rest of him was not thinking much at all. When Vince released the big toe with an audible pop, he kissed his way back up Howard's leg, rubbing his cheek against his inner thighs like a pet cat and licking and nipping gently upwards. Howard held onto his shoulders, more to ground himself than to try to control Vince, and whimpered. Vince's face was in the hallow where his thighs met and his breath was coming in warm gusts that Howard felt through his pants. There was a slim hand on his stomach with a dexterous thumb stroking above the top of his undergarments. No matter how he tried to angle hips, that thumb stayed where it was. “Please, Vince,” Howard begged pitifully “Please what?” asked Vince with faux innocence, “Tell me what you want” “Want you,” Howard gasped “I'm right here. Tell me what to do,” Vince stroked, stroked, stroked. Please there! “I don't know but do it soon, please!” Please, please, please. “Howard-” “Please touch me!” Oh god, that was embarrassing. Howard tried to look away, but couldn't escape Vince's smiling eyes. “As you wish,” he said and pulled off the underpants in one smooth motion, pausing only for Howard to raise his hips. He moved fluidly, taking the head of Howard's purpling cock in his mouth, pumping the shaft with one hand and cupping his testicles with the other. Howard watched the dark head bob between his legs with astonished fascination. Then, Vince looked up and the sight of his engorged penis slipping in and out of that familiar mouth was almost too much. “Stop, too much,” he gasped. Vince stopped and looked up. “Are you freaking out up there?” he asked, “Do you need to stop, stop?” “No, not that. I just don't want to, you know, not yet,” he looked away blushing. You would think that it would get easier to say these things to someone who had been moments ago sucking you off. Apparently not. “Alright,” said Vince hoisting himself up and slithering up Howard's torso like a snake or a professional slitherer. “Can I still kiss you, or is that weird after what I just did,” he asked two inches from Howard's face. Howard grabbed him by the back of his neck and tasted his own precome on those sweet lips. Salty, but not as bad as he thought it would taste. Vince smiled against his lips and opened his mouth hungrily. He began to rock and grind against Howard, who tentatively bucked back. They found a rhythm and ground against each other, erections digging into hips, lips on necks, ears, noses. Howard reached between their heaving bodies and grabbed their cocks together in his large hand. “Wank me off, Howard,” Vince whispered in his ear urgently. Cock against cock, they both fucked Howard's tight fist desperately. Howard felt a tell tale tingle in his lower belly spreading downwards rapidly. He let go of the cocks and gripped his friend's shoulders. “Vince, I'm going to- I'm, I'm,” overcome with sensation and modesty he hid his face in the crook of Vince's shoulder and bit down on the tendon. “I'm going to too,” Vince said and screwed up his face before they came moments apart. The electro boy collapsed bonelessly on top of his jazz maverick. “That was really good,” he said into the pillow. “Really? I mean I thought it was but you've had more-” Howard spluttered slightly hysterically “Howard,” Vince turned his face off of the pillow, “You were the best” “Don't mock me,” Howard scowled. “I mean it. And now I know you've been holding out on me, I'm never ever letting you go,” Vince snuggled closer limpet-like, hooking his legs around Howard's. “Do you really mean that? You're not toying with me?” “Well it was a bit of a lie,” Vince said thoughtfully, “I'd still never let you go even if you were rubbish and I had to teach you everything. Go to sleep.” “I would but I've got a disenfranchised princess on me,” Howard said and tickled Vince playfully. “Gerroff you northern idiot.” Vince squealed and rolled off and to the side of Howard, where he latched onto him again and hummed contentedly. They lay twined together sticky and naked until the next morning when a surprisingly nonchalant Naboo casually informed them that shops didn't open themselves and would they mind terribly to take a moment out of their busy schedule to do their bloody job before they were out on their ears. “Yes stepmother,” groaned Vince reluctantly detaching himself from his new lover.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Blow By Blow ch.4 (baon)

Summary: Set the day after ‘With Brotherly LV’. Jeff is having his first day working at the Embassy, Stretch is having a bad anxiety day, Red is having a bad text day, and Edge is just having a day.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Prejudice Against Monsters, Angst, Injury Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, LV Issues, Brother issues

Notes: My timeline is getting a little wonky due to a few drabble sets and shorts. So this chapter directly follows With Brotherly LV

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter 3

~~*~~

Read Chapter 4 on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

No matter his concern, Antwan was smarter than to stand with the door open and risk being caught sneaking in by Janice. On a good day, she did her duty of chasing away undesirables who wanted to ‘drop in’ ferociously and those who earned her wrath lived with their regrets. On a day like today, Edge was very glad to be on this side of the office door.

Antwan had been on her watch list before and he closed the door hastily, making his way to the guest chairs…and stopped, staring at the newly whittled down armrest.

Bemused, he nudged at the wood shavings scattered on the carpet with the toe of one shoe. “What the fuck happened in here? Did the chair attack you?”

"No, you do not,” Edge said firmly.

"I don’t?" Antwan asked with wary confusion. He bypassed the slightly mangled chair and chose the one that was still in an acceptable state, sinking into the leather cushions with a groan. All the impeccable lines of his suit crumpled around him.

"No. We are not discussing what the fuck happened to me or the chair.” Edge gathered up his finished paperwork briskly and set it in the proper basket. “You came in here to talk about something specific, and we will discuss that and nothing else.” His interest in discussion any of his own personal issues had dwindled into the negative.

"Ooookay, I'm good with that," Antwan said agreeably. He leaned back in the chair, crossing his legs to rest his ankle on the opposite knee with fingers drumming against the intact armrest. “Red will tell me later, anyway."

"I suppose it's useless to ask you to stop drinking with my brother."

"Yeah, momma, sorry,” Antwan shrugged. “I need all my lines of communication open and if I buy the good shit, he spills the good shit.”

"Antwan,” Edge sighed. The headache that had been sending him threats all morning was looming ominously at the gate. “Did you actually want something? Because I do have my own catastrophes to deal with."

That turned out to be an unexpected misstep. Far from his normal lawyerly arrogance, Antwan promptly looked miserable and started to stand. "I mean, it's not that important—“

"Sit your ass down and talk."

He sank back down, absently plucking a pen from his inside jacket pocket and fidgeting with it in a way more reminiscent of Stretch than Edge was used to with Antwan. “Well, it’s… is that a chicken plushie?"

"Yes." Edge raised a brow bone, silently inviting him to express his concerns over Edge's choice of desktop decor. “Was that really what you wanted to discuss?”

"No, shit, give me a minute…look, you're probably the worst person for me to ask about this," Antwan said bluntly. His face was tight, a deep furrow between his brows. "You hit a home run and got married the first time you stepped up to the plate so what do you know about anything?"

Edge propped his chin on one gloved hand, gazing at Antwan thoughtfully, “This must be why we're such good friends, our mutual respect for each other."

"I respect the fuck out of you, or else I wouldn't be here.” Antwan took a deep breath. “But I’ve been sleeping on a shitty sofa for a week, I’ve gained five pounds with all the food Blue is forcing on me and I have no fucking idea what I’m doing. This is way out of my area of expertise.”

“What is?”

“Jeff!” Antwan threw up his hands in frustration. “Look, I’ve gotten into some slightly weird shit before, okay? Once, I slept with this guy in a band and when I came home from work the next day I found him and bunch of strangers eating everything in my fridge and some girl redecorating my bathroom to make it more feng shui. But this is new territory, I really wasn't expecting my boyfriend to move in with another guy while my back was turned.” He sighed, dropping the pen into the empty seat and rubbing a thumb between his eyes. “Why the hell did you let him move in with Blue, anyway?”

“My apologies, was I supposed to forbid it? Would you rather he stayed at his old apartment while he recovered where anyone with the internet could find his address?” Edge asked calmly. His willingness to accept any blame for that began and ended at no. “Because I gathered he wasn’t willing to move in with you. We were simply offering another option. Then again, if you’d tried asking him to move in when he wasn’t well-drugged and fresh from surgery, you may have had more luck. Perhaps next time you’ll choose a better moment to express your intentions than in a hospital room.”

“How did you..?” Antwan started. His expression soured and he broke off, letting his head drop back with a sigh. “You really piss me off, sometimes.”

“I know, I learned from the best,” Edge said serenely. “Something you’re well aware of since you usually spend Wednesday nights drinking with him. That said, the last I knew, Jeff was down in public relations going over press releases, not in the hospital. Is there anything stopping you from talking to him now, aside from the stairs?”

Antwan met Edge’s stare but only for a moment, his eyes dropped as he muttered, “He’s been happy living with Blue.”

“He has.” This was an unexpected development. Edge couldn’t recall ever seeing Antwan as less than completely confident at anything. He’d seen defense attorneys flinch when Antwan came in to a courtroom, and plea deals were often struck after opening arguments. Antwan was very nearly as skilled as Edge in keeping his expression impassive, but the unhappiness on his face was as blatant as a Human nose when Edge pointed out, “That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be happy living with you.”

“Maybe it does.” Antwan slumped back, staring moodily at the ceiling as if in hopes the answers would come from above.

Generally, Edge was indifferent to self-inflicted forms of pathetic, but since divine intervention seemed unlikely, this time he relented. “He cares about you a great deal.”

“Then why is it the only time he told me he loved me was when he doesn’t even remember doing it?”

The quiet hurt in those words made Edge pause, considering. Slowly, he said, “I couldn’t begin to guess the workings of Jeff’s mind anymore than I could Stretch. Why don’t you ask him? Just talk to him.” “But—“ “Talk. To. Him.” Edge said, exasperated. Why was he surrounded by such brilliantly intelligent idiots? “I may have hit a home run with Stretch, but I can tell you most of the problems we’ve had would have been prevented with a little communication.” Like now, but this wasn’t at all the time bring up their domino fall of troubles. “You give speeches in court all the time, I have to listen to you go on about them at lunch, I know you know how to talk. Plan what you want to say to him and say it.”

“When would I have the time?” Antwan shifted enough to look at him. The way he was sprawling in the chair in his expensive suit made him look like a child playing dress up. His mournful sigh was worse, and if he and Stretch had ever been like this during their difficult beginning, Edge couldn’t believe his brother hadn’t attempted an intervention, preferably one with plenty of swearing and threats of violence. “I haven’t been able to get him away from starry little bodyguard long enough.” That was a fair point. “If you’ll make the effort to talk to him tonight, I’ll handle Blue. Start making a plan.” He glanced at the clock. It was well past noon and he still hadn’t made it to lunch. “Now if you'll excuse me, I need to think of a way to convince my husband that he can’t piss me off enough to make me leave him, no matter how hard he tries.”

“What?” Edge made a mental note that the best way to distract Antwan from his problems was to introduce one of his own. He sat up straight and his expression was one of aghast dismay. “Why the hell would he ever believe that? Any idiot can see you worship that brat.”

“Yes, but Stretch is a special brand of idiot,” Edge said dryly. He might have left it there, but Antwan was his friend, and Edge admitted with some discomfort, “and I suppose I didn’t tell him in words he can understand.”

“That’s bullshit,” Antwan scoffed. “I’ve heard you tell him you love him, you two are disgusting about it! You married him for fuck’s sake!”

“Your argument is sound,” Edge agreed. “Which gives me a few decades to persuade him to my way of thinking. That being said, I’d still prefer to find a faster route.”

“Good luck with that, man,” Antwan rubbed the back of his head. “You want to head out for some lunch?”

“Thank you, but no.” The more Edge looked at remaining piles of paperwork on his desk, the less important they seemed. Particularly in comparison to his mental image of Stretch sitting at home, miserable and alone, unable to stop fretting about tomorrow, about Edge, probably about anything. “I think I’m going to call it an early day.”

That made Antwan wince. “You leaving early with nothing burnt down and no one dead? You sure you want to try and help me tonight?”

“Yes, and hopefully the trend of no property damage or homicide continues. I’ll text you later, all right?”

Antwan leaving gave him a chance to double check his emails before he shut down his computer. Edge took a moment to lean out to his office door to find Janice back at her desk, coffee cup in hand. She glanced at him expectantly.

“Janice, would you mind-“

“I’ve already rescheduled your other meeting,” she said crisply. “I’ll get the R & D reports ready for you tomorrow morning.”

“No, I’m taking tomorrow off as well,” Edge said, almost surprising himself. If he checked with Alphys, perhaps she could see them sooner than tomorrow afternoon. He suspected the only reason she’d asked them to come in so late to begin with was because of his work.

Janice’s reaction was closer to shock, but she nodded. “I’ll handle it. Go home.” It was very close to scolding.

He gave her a small smile. “Thank you, I am.” Moments later, he was headed out to his car. It was tempting to text Stretch and let him know he would be home soon, but he decided against it.

Hopefully, it would be a nice surprise.

~~*~~

Tbc

[officerjennie]

After several years and many near amicable moments between them, Tobirama had assumed their relationship wouldn’t regress to the hostility he’d felt from Madara during the war - or even what it had been at the founding of Konoha. Though, to be fair, this behavior seemed more childish than aggressive. He staved off the coming migraine by pinching the bridge of his nose, several scrolls tucked up under one arm as he made his way through the halls to his office.

That Madara had picked up such a domestic hobby as baking had been a little surprising. That he had insisted on bringing in pastries and pies to seeming the whole tower had caused many heads to turn, Tobirama’s included. But it was hardly the hobby itself that caused Tobirama’s eyes to roll - and the corners of his mouth to twitch downward whenever he was alone.

He’d never had much of a sweet tooth anyway. The fact that Madara had thrown a near fit whenever Hashirama had tried to share some of last week’s blueberry pie with him shouldn’t cause the dour mood threatening to bring his morning down already.

If the trend continued as it had the past several weeks, everyone in the offices would be getting some sort of baked good for breakfast. He dropped his scrolls down a little harder than necessary onto his desk, not bothering to straighten them up as he normally would. By the end of the hour the whole tower would smell like a bakery, and at this point he was willing to spend his only off day during the weekend on slapping together some sort of seal to keep the smell out of his own office.

It would be another hour or so before he’d have to deal with that, at least. What Hashirama always called his ‘inhuman’ habit of getting up well before the sun every morning worked in his favor there, the tower around him peacefully quiet, almost the whole village asleep and calm around him. There was just something so soothing about feeling so many chakra signatures at rest, no violent or angry spikes to disrupt his focus, and Tobirama settled into his desk chair to make use of the peace while he could.

Which ended up being little more than ten minutes.

He ground his teeth in frustration at the approaching signature, Madara’s chakra already rubbing him the wrong way and setting him on edge. It didn’t help that something seemed to be stirring in it, some sort of emotion that he couldn’t name - he could never really name them, only the general feel of whatever it was setting people off, and whatever bee bothering Madara that morning felt sharp and jittery.

Even knowing that he wouldn’t have to deal with the man himself didn’t improve Tobirama’s mood. Just the jagged feel of his chakra would keep him on edge, and his already sour mood was just getting more and more dour the closer Madara got to the tower.

To his horror, the man didn’t stop at his own office. Whatever his destination was, more than likely the hokage’s empty office, it was bringing him suffocatingly close to Tobirama’s. He didn’t even bother trying to get to work yet, sitting at his desk and shaking one foot under his chair, waiting for a bit of distance to allow his mind to calm enough to focus.

He nearly dropped his head to the desk whenever Madara pounded on his door, shooting a single and forlorn glance towards his window and wondering if it would be worth escaping. If he hadn’t put those damned seals up all over the tower, he’d be able to simply hiraishin home and avoid the damned man for a while longer - he lamented his own habit of over securing every building he could as he bid the man to enter, firmly keeping his gaze down at an unrolled scroll just to appear as busy as possible.

“Are you seriously working this early in the morning?”

It took physical effort not to grind his teeth, tapping his fingers on his desk instead. The smell of some sort of baked good was already wafting in along with the Uchiha, further irritating him and making his response a bit snippier than normal. “What else would I be doing in my office? Baking a cake?”

“You bake?”

His brows pinched together at that, eyes flickering over to see a rather surprised Madara staring down at him from across his desk. “Wha- no, I don’t bake. That was just…” He shook his head, a stray thought calling to attention that Madara had pulled his hair back for the day. Odd, though entirely unimportant, no matter how put together it made him look. He leaned back in his chair, most of the irritation leaving his tone just out of sheer habit. “What do you want, Madara?”

“You know what today is.” Madara crossed his arms rather forcefully over his own chest, looking as if it angered him greatly to spit that statement out. When all Tobirama did was blink at him, entirely unsure of what he meant, Madara snapped his head to the side to glare out the window. “Don’t make me say it, Senju! It’s! Today!”

“Most every time that statement is made, it is the truth, yes.”

That apparently wasn’t the right thing to say. A moment later, Madara’s hands were slammed down on the desk, and only the fact that nothing was knocked over saved them from being stabbed with one of the many weapons Tobirama had stashed in his desk. He still didn’t appreciate the aggression even in the slightest, staring Madara down even as the man snarled at him.

“Stop being so fucking difficult, you know exactly what I’m talking about! It’s today, and I have to do something, so here I fucking am!” Without letting Tobirama so much as snap a single word back, Madara dropped something heavy on his desk - though where in the hell the Uchiha had been hiding a whole parcel had Tobirama blinking in confusion for a few seconds, perplexed by both the appearance of it and by what was now sitting on his desk.

It looked to be a pie of sorts. Tobirama dared to lift the lid up just a touch with a finger, the bakery smell filling his office even more to the point where he could actually pin point that it was, in fact, a blueberry pie.

The fact that blueberry pies were his favorite had to be a coincidence. It wasn’t information Madara would have. Still, he’d been raised proper, and he was hardly going to be impolite whenever presented with a gift - no matter how out of the blue and perplexing the whole situation was.

“Aaahhh, thank you?” Probably shouldn’t have been a question. Madara just huffed at it anyway, his cheeks pink from his angry outburst no doubt, him fidgeting uncomfortably in the silence that enveloped the room about them.

When Madara finally moved to speak or leave or something other than standing there, Tobirama had to send quiet thanks to whatever gods were watching over him, because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could just sit there with the Uchiha making his morning drag on into infinity.

“Don’t eat it all in one sitting. You’ll get fat.” After that shaming statement, Madara turned and walked rather stiffly towards the door, stopping with his hand on the handle to throw one last curve ball over his shoulder before he left, “And happy birthday, or whatever.”

When the door shut rather loudly behind him, all Tobirama could do was stare at it for a few minutes, his mind going back to the well wishes and drawing a blank at them. Once he managed to shake himself at least slightly out of his stupor he had to throw a confused look out the window, just to make sure he wasn’t imagining things and that it was indeed mid-summer.

He’d never received any sort of birthday gift so late before. Though how Madara had gotten the date so widely off - and why he’d even bothered to not only get him something, but make him something, had Tobirama rather distracted for the rest of the work day.

It wasn’t until rather late that evening, flickering candles his only source of light as he enjoyed a small piece of the pie, cozied into his usual corner on the sofa with a collection of old poems he’d gotten from his brother a few years before - that it finally dawned on him what Madara had been doing for the past several weeks.

Laughing was easier than pondering any sort of implications. Implications including why he thought the idea of Madara spending weeks trying to bake a pie for what he assumed was Tobirama’s birthday was so…warm, in a way. So Tobirama just laughed, waving Mito off when she came in to see what had him in such a fit, not yet ready to share his discovery with anyone.

Apparently, Madara wasn’t all bite after all. He took another bite of the surprisingly decent pie, his nose wrinkling with humor as he tried and failed to get drawn back into his poems. Who would have thought the Uchiha had a soft spot under all those spikes and fire?

Ko-Fi || Commissions

[zdbztumble]

“Kingdom Hearts II” revisited: Final Thoughts

There’s an obvious logic to having the Drive Form named Final appear so late in the game, but I think it’s introduced too late. By the time I got it to trigger, the Door had already appeared, and I’d decided that there really wasn’t much left in the other worlds of the game that I wanted to do. That meant there wasn’t much opportunity to play around with the Final Form, or level it up, outside of base grinding, something I always hate doing in any game. I do like Final Form, but it should have come earlier in the game to give the player the most value.

And speaking of final - that final boss is really...lame. As in, not fun to play and not satisfying on a story level. You can say a lot about every KH game that’s come after this - and I have, and will, at considerable length - but at least each of them presents a final boss who is a primary character of that game, in a recognizable form, with (somewhat) motivated stages of transformation. Here in KH II, we have to fight buildings, blasters, reactor cores, those bomb things from the Gummi levels (which, I admit, I appreciated - bringing those into the main gameplay), the armored figure in a chair twice, and a dragon-like mecha before we finally get a shot at Xemnas as we know him (in fabulous zebra robes), in a battle full of reaction commands and triggers that seem intentionally designed to make Riku look like a badass at Sora’s expense.

None of these stages are all that hard IMO, nor are any of them that engaging. The brief section where you play as Riku is a low point for me, due to his limited moveset and trouble navigating the space. I’m not opposed to alternating which character you play as during a final boss, but the execution of the idea here is terrible. Denying any role in the final battle to Kairi and King Mickey is a bigger problem, and I actually refused to have Riku in my party until required to because of that. I’m convinced the staff behind this game want players to use him, but I say - if you’re going to ignore every possible opportunity you give yourselves to have the Destiny Islands trio together in a party, then I’m not going to play with your Creators’ Pet. (And he is exactly that. I may have softened on Riku over the years, but he - and Axel, and half the Organization - are textbook examples of a creative team letting their fondness for characters supersede what’s actually best for them in a narrative.)

Of course, the battle itself isn’t all there is to the finale, and there’s more right than wrong to the story here. For one thing, Roxas and Namine get a nice denouement, one that makes it quite clear how they feel - and what they choose - about rejoining with their original selves. As someone who was bothered by the Riku/Namine business at the end of KH III, due to memories of this game, I can concede that there isn’t a whole lot to Roxas and Namine’s relationship here. Their scenes at the beginning are emotional, and their scene at the end is sweet, but their interaction is very limited. The mere fact that they are the Nobodies of Sora and Kairi does a lot of the heavy lifting for their relationship, and that bond is strong enough - and, at this point in the series, still written well enough - to sell the idea, but only just. I daresay this is something that Days could and should have addressed, but we’ll get to that another time.

The lead-up to the final boss provides nice moments between Kairi and Riku, Sora and Kairi, Sora and Riku, and one wonderful moment between the three of them. Setting aside the fact that the whole final boss should have been a second moment for the trio, and the game’s pandering to Riku’s prowess during the fight - the scenes between Sora and Riku after defeating Xemnas are quite well-done, and very effectively illustrate how their friendship has healed and reached a new equilibrium. Even better than that, however, is the game’s final scene. From Kairi’s letter reappearing as the key to the light and the enthusiastic greetings from the Disney cast, to the last flashes of Roxas and Namine and the final exchange between Sora and Kairi (which has some of the best voice acting those two VAs have done in the entire series), it’s an absolutely beautiful finale. The bittersweet, open, and uncertain finale of KH I is still the emotional high point of the series in my eyes, and I continue to applaud the game’s staff for daring such an ending; the way KH II ends is much closer to what one probably would have expected of KH I. But the happy ending of KH II is very much an earned one, and it’s an effective cap, not just on this game, but on everything done in the series up to that point. Kairi’s past remains mysterious and Maleficent is still unaccounted for, but the chain of tragedies set off by Ansem’s research is ended, the last traces of Xehanort are defeated, the worlds are at peace, and the three friends whose lives were torn apart are finally healed, whole, and together again, ready for a new adventure.

...Or, at least that’s what should have happened.

Back when I first played Kingdom Hearts II - fresh off of KH I, unaware that CoM even existed - it was, without question, my preferred game of the two. I would’ve even called it my favorite video game of all time (which wouldn’t have meant much - even now, it’s a very short list of video games that I’ve played from beginning to end.) I would’ve said the same after the second time I played through it, even as certain nagging doubts crept into my mind. Several years and the rest of the series later, I can’t give KH II that level of praise. 

Kingdom Hearts is a series where the first truly is the best, at least so far. Like CoM before it, KH II either introduces or continues trends and ideas that would bring later games down, and they all start to grate here. Elements like the secret reports and Summons lose their motivation in-story, and in the former case become a lazy way to toss out exposition that should have been part of the gameplay and cutscenes. For the first time, certain Disney worlds are saddled with stiff and uninspired re-tellings of their movie plots, devoid of room for Sora to make a difference. The pacing is uneven and it’s easy to lose sight of the main story during certain Disney worlds. Dialogue is often clunky, and fan service and pandering to Creators’ Pets hurts significant moments of the story. A lot of potential in the backstory of Roxas and the fate of Namine is left untapped. The trend of offering Kairi the will and ability to be more involved only to ignore the opportunity continues, Riku’s reintroduction to the group has issues, and Sora is caught in an awkward transition between the hero of the first came and the idiotic and ineffectual would-be messiah of later games.

With all of that said, though...I still love this game.

On paper, entries like Dream Drop Distance or KH III might’ve had greater ambition in the amount or kind of story they tried to tell, but in the actual presentation of the story, KH II is far more daring. From the prolonged opening sequence spent with a new character to the slow burn on the revelation of the Organization’s plans, KH II is quite unconventional in its story structure, and it often works to the game’s favor. Leaving so much of the year between KH I and II untold, even with CoM, is mystery done right, in a way that feels open to speculation and possibilities rather than heavy-handed teasing and baiting for spin-offs. This is the only time in the series where Maleficent and Pete make for an equal and compelling third party, and having that third force at play makes for another off-beat structural element that’s ultimately satisfying, even with the not-insignificant lag during the back half of the first Disney pass. The Organization being a collective villain rather than a single figure (even if Xemnas was its instigator) is a nice differentiation from KH I and CoM, and how pathetic the villains ultimately turn out to be gives them a nice degree of pathos - though that pathos isn’t carried too far.

While KH II is a few steps down the dark road, it hasn’t hit the abyss yet, and things that start to look problematic here are still strong overall. Some of the Disney worlds may have stiff movie recaps, but most are loose and accommodating to the larger KH story. Some may be filler, but most of them - on both passes - are at least technically connected to the main plot, and most of them - even the filler - in a meaningful and engaging way. The reports aren’t strongly motivated, but they’re not a complete crutch either. Roxas and Namine, if unfulfilled in their full potential, are still a force throughout the game (well, Roxas more than Namine) instead of being abruptly dropped.

Kairi’s denied obvious chances to get more involved, but she does get to strike out on her own and play a more active role in the story than she did in KH I. Riku’s pandered too a little too much once he reappears, but his role behind the scenes before then makes for a strong continuation of his redemption arc from R/R and is well-woven into the overall plot. Sora’s on the road to Flanderization, but he still has many of his better traits from the first game, including his greater competence at his missions and his believable, human reactions to the events around him. While he doesn’t have the arc of growth he had in KH I, or go through the deconstruction of CoM, he does have definite goals as an individual, and a pronounced sense of world-weariness as his chances of meeting those goals - finding Riku, going home, and seeing Kairi again - get further and further away.

Most of all, Kingdom Hearts II is still manageable in its story. The two sets of villains have relatively simple (but not simplistic) goals, and they’re revealed in a comprehensible fashion. More importantly, the logistics and pseudo-philosophical notions behind the villain plots don’t override the entire game, or pull focus from the protagonists. The heroes all have stories here, and if there’s an overarching theme to this game (not as clearly presented as the themes of KH I, mind you), it’s completion and resolution. If we may break them down:

Organization XIII, having made the foolish choice to discard their hearts, desperately try to escape the consequences of that choice through evil acts, only to fail and meet their ultimate end.

Roxas, who opens the game with mystery and confusion, comes to learn who he is and completes himself and Sora with his choice to surrender to his fate, something he grows to be at peace with.

Namine, having achieved a measure of peace with who and what she is, completes her tasks from the end of CoM and rejoins with her true self, after first saving Kairi and granting (most of) the heroes an escape from The World That Never Was.

Ansem the Wise, whose curiosity opened the door to everything that went wrong later, turns his back on base revenge and works to set the worlds to right, giving his own life in the process.

King Mickey, the hero who kept a deliberate watch on the state of the worlds and sounded the alert on the danger they were in, uncovers the truth about Organization XIII and plays his part to bring them to peace and finally makes it back home.

Donald and Goofy finally find their king.

Kairi, left alone with fading memories for a year, resolves to set out to find her friends, and not only achieves that goal, but facilitates their reconciliation and provides the means for them to finally return home.

Riku, after finding some measure of peace with himself in R/R, gives his all to see Sora restored and works to help him from the shadows, but fears to face his friends after his actions in KH I. When finally forced to, he learns that he hasn’t lost them, and the last of his self-doubt is discarded as he joins forces with Sora to finish off the last trace of Xehanort and make it back home.

And as for Sora, our chief hero: he is fully restored from his trials in CoM. Though eager - even desperate - to resume his search for Riku and return home, he doesn’t hesitate to start protecting the worlds again and finish off the remainder of the threat he first faced. While an authority figure presents that threat to him, Sora chooses to take it up, and carries it out without being directed or puppeted by Yen Sid at every step. The weight of the ordeals and his constant travels wear him down, the events of the year he lost (and Roxas’s role in those events) challenge him, and he does at one point refuse the call of the Keyblade (”Not yet! I have to find Kairi!”) Yet he persists in defending the worlds, even when it benefits the villains, and he fights his way to their castle to rescue and reunite with his friends. Having set out early in KH I to rescue those friends, he achieves this, finishes off the villain who turned his world upside down, and finally makes his way home to the island, the friends, and the girl he loves.

Kingdom Hearts II’s resolutions to all of these things is so final, and so satisfying, that the series since has had to ignore its finale, and a good chunk of its story, just to keep dragging things out. That’s to their detriment, but not KH II’s. While imperfect and uneven, it is a worthy sequel to the first game - the last such entry in the series - a lot of fun to play, and an ambitious and satisfying story.

And it has, to date, Kaoru Wada’s finest orchestration for the series. I absolutely adore his arrangement of Sanctuary from this game, and it makes me wish I’d kept up with the French horn every time I hear it.