#I called you after midnight and ran until I burst

[djarindroid]

Against All Odds

Pairing: Eric (AQPDO) x Reader

Summary: After meeting Eric and slowly growing closer to one another will you be able to get back to each other in this new silent world?

Word Count: 5,876

Warnings: Descriptions of violence, death and blood

Comments: I dunno why but I'm more nervous to post this than I have been about anything else I've written. Hope you enjoy!

The nights spent working at the NYU Law School library were peaceful. Where dimly lit aisles provided a sanctuary to any student burning the midnight oil. Your job was easy enough, re-shelve a few books and help the occasional student find something. Whilst night shifts weren’t ideal it was a sure way for you to save up to achieve your dream; going to art school. Besides, it gave you plenty of time to work on your sketches.

It was nearing 2am when someone burst through the doors, looking up from the returned books you were sorting though you saw a disheveled young man anxiously scanning the room until his eyes landed on you. Rushing over he blurted out, ‘Excuse me, I need a book on constitutional law. I have a paper due and my laptops just crashed on me.’ 

You smiled, hoping to ease his panicked state. ‘You’re gonna need to go up a floor to aisle 23, there should be some constitutional law books on the 2nd and 3rd shelf.’

‘Okay, perfect, aisle 23,’ he repeated as he began to walk away. ‘Thank you so much!’ 

You watched him go, slightly chuckling to yourself as he went to go downstairs instead of up, clearly too distracted to remember everything you said.

‘Hey,’ you softly called out. He halted, and turned to you. ‘Upstairs,’ you pointed up to emphasise where he went wrong.

‘Oh right, yeah of course, you said that. Thanks again,’ he stammered out as he quickly corrected himself, bounding up the stairs two at a time. You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you as you watched him go. Shaking your head you returned to sorting the books.

The next few hours passed uneventfully, a couple of other students came in and out but no one needed anything from you. As the clock ticked closer to dawn you decided to take a walk around the library, to check if any books had been left out.

As you made your way upstairs you wondered if the guy from earlier had found what he needed. Turning the corner at the top of the stairs you spotted him, working diligently in a sea of open books. The desk light bathed him a soft glow as he ran his hand through his already tousled hair. You don’t know what possessed you to go over to him, you only ever spoke to the students if they came up to you at the front desk, but you found yourself drawn over to him.

‘Hey,’ you said quietly, not wanting to break the serenity the library provided, ‘did you find what you were looking for?’

His deep brown eyes met yours with a hint of gratitude as they flicked up from his notes. Despite his frazzled appearance he had an undeniable charm. His slightly stubbled jaw line may have been tense with the stress he was under but there was a softness to his features that drew you in.

‘Oh hi, yeah I found everything,’ he gestured to the scattered books around him. ‘Thank you again for pointing me in the right direction, this place is still a bit of a maze to me.’

‘Not a problem, late night book adventures are all a part of the job,’ you joked, earning you a small chuckle from him.

‘I’m Eric, by the way,’ he said as his gaze lingered on you, causing a warmth to spread inside you. You hoped you weren’t blushing as you managed to reply with your own name.

He repeated it, his English accent making each syllable sound deliberate and thought out. ‘Thanks again. I should probably get back to it before the caffeine completely wears off.’

Understanding his situation, you nodded. ‘Good luck, if you need anything else let me know,’ with that you made your way back to the front desk. You tried to work on some of your sketches but your thoughts kept wandering back to Eric. You’d seen your fair share of late night students, but none had captured your attention quite like him.

Hours slipped by, the library remained quiet with only the occasional rustle or soft footsteps echoing in the stillness. Each sound drew your attention to the stairs, hoping to see Eric walking down.

But soon enough the first rays of sunlight began to filter through the windows, signalling the end of your shift. You packed your stuff, glancing over your shoulder every few seconds in the hope of seeing Eric one last time before you left. Feeling a bit foolish for lingering over a brief encounter you sighed and stepped outside.

The next night came around quickly and before you knew it you were back in the library, among a new shipment of books, in need of scanning and logging onto the system. The smell of fresh pages and the rhythmic beeping of the scanner offered a welcome distraction from the lingering thoughts about Eric. You’d scolded yourself for fixating on a man you’d only had a few interactions with, deciding you needed to get out more.

You settled into a steady rhythm of logging the books but time still seemed to drag. Just as you were about to take a break the main door creaked open. A smile unconsciously spread across your lips at the site of who walked in. Eric seemed calmer today but he still had a determined glint in his eye.

He spotted you and matched your smile. His steps towards you were more confident than the previous night, your heartbeat picked up the closer he got. ‘Hey Eric, need help finding something?’ you greeted him first.

His smile widened as he reached the desk ‘no not quite. I actually wanted to come back and thank you properly, you really saved me last night.’ He leant on your desk, resting on his forearms as he looked down at where you sat.

‘Oh you didn’t have to come back just for that,’ you flushed. Had he really just made the trip here in the middle of the night to thank you again? Maybe you’d affected him as much as he had you, you tried not to dwell on the thought.

‘Yeah I was actually planning on bringing you coffee but I wasn’t sure what you liked,’ he scratched the back of his head nervously. ‘Didn’t want to bring you the wrong thing you know? And a lot of people don’t like to drink caffeine at night so I didn’t know if you’d want it at all, and it might be a bit weird for me to just turn up with it…’

He was anxiously rambling and boy did you find it endearing. ‘I like coffee,’ you gently interrupted, once again hoping to put him at ease. ‘I usually stop on my way here for a latte.’ You nodded towards the empty takeaway cup you’d thrown out earlier.

His shoulders visibly relax, ‘good to know.’ His smile returned as he spoke, somehow warmer this time.

The subtle implication that he was remembering that information didn’t go amiss, filling you with pleasant anticipation. A comfortable silence fell over the two of you, you wanted to continue the conversation but had no idea what to say. 

‘Well I guess I should leave you to it,’ he said as he straightened up again, tapping the desk as he did. You couldn’t stop the small pang of disappointment at him leaving so soon. Why had you expected more? After all, you barely knew each other.

Despite the urge to ask him to stay, you were technically working and were unsure of how appropriate that would actually be. You found yourself saying ‘okay, have a good night.’

You could’ve sworn you saw a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. He gave you a small nod and said ‘well, until next time.’ He flashed you one final smile before he turned and left as quickly as he’d arrived.

Watching him go, the echo of the closing door filled you with a mix of regret and anticipation. You wished you’d had the courage to ask him to stay but the moment had passed.

Sighing you got back to scanning the new books. You spent the remainder of your shift internally debating yourself. You’d only just met Eric, you felt crazy thinking about him so often but there was just something about him that lingered in your thoughts. And his parting words ‘until next time’ left you wondering if perhaps you weren’t crazy at all. 

It was rare for you to speak to any of the other people that worked at the library, due to being on the night shift you always worked alone, offering polite hellos and goodbyes to the people you swapped shifts with. That's why it was odd that Jennifer, the girl you were taking over for, approached you as you arrived at work a few days later.

‘Hey, someone came in here looking for you about an hour ago,’ she began whilst rummaging through her bag for her keys. ‘Cute guy, kinda had a lost puppy vibe. Anyways I told him you started at 10.’ Without waiting for your response she triumphantly lifted her keys from her bag, said goodbye and all but skipped out of the building.

She had to be talking about Eric, right? You’d been doing your best not to think about him the past couple of days. He hadn’t been back in since his second visit and you figured he was probably just being polite. You took a seat and began trying to sort through the returned books you’d need to re-shelve but you couldn’t stop glancing at the doors knowing Eric could walk in at any moment.

Why were you so nervous? You attempted to distract yourself by focusing on the task at hand but your mind kept wandering. What if he didn’t show up? What if he did? Your stomach churned at the thought of both possibilities. The familiar quiet comfort of the library did nothing to calm you tonight. 

You couldn’t help but over analyse every fleeting interaction you’d had with Eric. Was he really interested or were you reading too much into it? Maybe he wasn’t planning to come back after he’d left earlier. You told yourself it didn’t matter, that you didn’t care if you saw him today. But you did care, more than you wanted to admit and the uncertainty gnawed at you.

Just before you had the chance to truly spiral the door swung open and there he was, the man who had been occupying your mind, holding two coffee cups. Relief seemed to wash over him as he spotted you, a shy smile making its way onto his face. 

‘Hi,’ he greeted, making his way over to you. ‘Hope I’m not bothering you.’

‘Not at all,’ you replied, your heart fluttering. 

He placed one of the takeaway cups down in front of you, ‘one latte, like you mentioned.’ 

‘Thank you so much, you really didn’t need to,’ you flushed as you reached for the drink. Your fingers briefly brushing against his sending a tingling sensation to shoot up your arm. 

His smile was calm and warm as he looked at you. ‘So… is working the night shift at a law library as glamorous as it seems?’ He joked as he took a swig from his own drink.

You laughed, ‘it’s not so bad, yeah it’s messed up my sleep schedule but it’s a pretty easy gig.’ Not taking the risk of him leaving again you continued the conversation, ‘what about you? Is being a law student as hectic as you made it seem?’ 

His laughter filled the air, a sound you could definitely get used to hearing. ‘Probably more stressful than I made it seem.’ he admitted before continuing, ‘so I take it you aren’t a student here then?’’

‘Oh, no. Law definitely isn’t for me,’ you replied, noticing his raised eyebrows prompting you to carry on. ‘I needed a job and it just so happens that not many people are rushing at the chance to work the night shifts here. I’m actually trying to save up to go to art school.’

His eyes lit up with interest, ‘art school? That’s amazing, are you planning to go to one here in the city?’

‘That’s the plan,’ you grinned up to him. 

A slight tension buzzed between you both as silence fell. Neither of you were eager for the conversation to end but both nervous to take the next step. Eric finished his drink and attempted to throw the cup in the bin, missing spectacularly. 

‘Oh shit,’ he scrambled to pick it up, his cheeks reddening with embarrassment. You couldn’t hold back the laugh at the failed attempt. In a playful gesture you picked up a crumpled piece of paper from your desk. Throwing it with a flick of your wrist you got it on the first try.

‘Oh I see how it is,’ Eric said, rounding the desk and pulling up a seat next to you. His arm brushed across your shoulder, the contact sending a shiver down your spine, as he reached around you to grab another piece of paper. ‘It’s on,’ he concentrated with mock seriousness, his tongue peaked out between his teeth. With one eye squinted he dramatically tossed the paper, landing it perfectly.

He threw his arms in the air and in a faux commentator voice exclaimed ‘And Eric makes the epic shot with only seconds left to spare! The crowd is going wild!’ 

You both dissolved into laughter, the moment completely breaking the ice between you. Any lingering awkwardness dissipated and you settled into a rhythm of throwing paper into the bin and sharing stories about your lives. It was easy, and the quiet of the library was the perfect backdrop to your flourishing connection. 

After hours of uninterrupted conversation Eric glanced at the clock. ‘Woah I didn’t realise it had gotten so late,’ he stretched into a yawn as if to emphasise his point.

‘Yeah, I guess I’m just used to it at this point,’ you replied, trying to stop your eyes from drifting down to where his top had risen during the stretch.

‘As much as I would like to stay, I have an 8am class,’ he murmured, another yawn escaping him. He looked over to you, not yet making a move to stand up. ‘Maybe I could come back and see you sometime? If that’d be okay?’ 

His eyes locked with yours and your pulse quickened, his words were confirmation that you weren’t reading too into this connection. 

‘I’d like that,’ you replied softly, feeling a light blush spread across your cheeks.

Eric’s smile widened, the tiredness in his eyes briefly fading. ‘Good, that’s great,’ he couldn’t hide his happiness at your reply. Standing up he added, ‘I’ll see you soon.’ 

‘See you soon Eric,’ your smile didn’t fade as you watched him leave. 

Just as he reached the door he paused to turn back to you, ‘goodnight.’

‘Goodnight,’ you echoed with a small wave. He returned the gesture as he stepped out into the night, leaving you looking forward to your next shift with a warm feeling in your chest.

Over the following weeks Eric became a constant part of your life. He frequently turned up during your shifts, always bringing you a drink and staying with you to talk. What started as nervous small talk soon blossomed into something more. You found yourselves sharing stories, your dreams and even just being able to rant about your daily lives to one another. You’d even swapped numbers, occasionally sending each other random texts throughout the day.

So why had neither of you taken the step to suggest meeting up elsewhere? You wanted to, you really did, but the fact he hadn’t suggested it yet made you hesitate. Was he content with the way things were, or was he just as unsure as you about taking things further? 

You found yourself lost in thought one evening, internally debating whether you should just take the next step and ask him out or keep things the way they are. A rubber band hitting your arm drew your attention back to the present, and the man sat in his now usual spot across from you.

‘Hey,’ he gently called. His eyes, soft as they met yours, showed genuine concern. ‘You were in your own little world over there, are you ok?’

‘Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking about some stuff,’ you deflected, hoping he wouldn’t pry any further.

‘Hmm,’ Eric hummed as he raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. ‘Were you thinking about finally letting me see your sketchbook?’

Heat flooded your face, but you couldn’t suppress a smile. ‘Definitely not,’ you replied, placing a protective hand over the book.

‘Oh come on,’ he persisted. ‘I’ve seen you drawing for weeks now. They can’t be that bad!’

You shook your head, ‘they’re not bad, it's just… personal.’ If you were being completely honest you’d never show anyone your sketchbook and the thought of sharing yourself like that felt almost too intimate. 

He offered you an exaggerated pout and his best puppy dog eyes, you’d be lying to yourself if you said it wasn’t working. ‘You wound me,’ he clutched his chest dramatically. 

‘Wound you?’ you laughed ‘I’m sure you’ll survive if you don’t see my drawings.’

Eric let out a theatrical sigh ‘You never know, I might wither away from curiosity.’ He chuckled as he cast you a playful glance.

‘You’re so dramatic,’ you teased, rolling your eyes in an attempt to hide your amusement.

He leaned forward, ‘Dramatic? I’m just expressing my unfulfilled wish to see your artistic genius.’

You laughed at that, shaking your head. ‘Artistic genius? Now you’re just trying to butter me up.’

‘Is it working?’ he asked with a hopeful grin, his eyes sparkling as he leaned even closer.

Your heart almost skipped a beat at the way he was looking at you. You stuttered, trying to put a cohesive thought together. ‘Not a chance,’ you managed to say.

He laughed, leaning back in his chair ‘Okay, I’ll drop it,’ he turned back to his work. ‘For now.’

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you, the kind of silence that only comes when two people are genuinely at ease with each other. You were content, happy to spend your time in this little bubble the two of you had created. Eric apparently had other ideas as he broke the quiet after a few moments.

‘So, I’ve been thinking,’ he began, his tone had shifted to something more sincere. You turned to see him looking nervous, his eyes downcast.  ‘I’ve, urm, I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you,’ your heart jumped up your throat, what was he about to say? ‘I was thinking we could, if you wanted, we could go out sometime. To dinner?’

His eyes finally met yours, showing his vulnerability. For a moment you froze, the weight of what he was asking sinking in. A smile spread across your face, ‘I’d love that.’

His face lit up as the words left your lips, relief evident in his eyes. ‘Great! How about this Friday? There’s a new Italian place I’d love to take you to.’

‘Perfect,’ you agreed, feeling a flutter of anticipation. Friday couldn’t come soon enough.

Friday arrived quickly and you could hardly contain your excitement. You spent the morning out running errands. You found yourself in the grocery store, mind buzzing with thoughts of your upcoming date. Whilst reaching for a carton of milk your phone buzzed in your pocket. Seeing Eric’s name made you smile like a schoolgirl that just found out her crush likes her back.

‘Can’t wait for tonight, see you later :)’ 

You felt a rush of warmth and quickly typed back a response,  ‘Me too, see you soon!’

Before you could fully revel in the anticipation an ear splitting crash shook the world around you. The store windows shattered, sending shards flying causing you to duck down instinctively. All around you chaos broke out, people were screaming, car alarms blaring outside and another sound you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Heart pounding, you stood and assessed the situation. Everything was in disarray, broken glass covered the floor and random produce was everywhere. Dust and debris clouded the air, obstructing your view of the outside. What the hell was happening? 

Screams were still ringing out and you could hear car wheels screeching. Adrenaline surged through you and before you knew it you were rushing outside. You couldn’t believe the chaotic scene that unfolded before you the moment you stepped onto the street. Rubble rained from the sky, people ran in all directions, and a bus was flipped on its side in front of you. 

Panic surged but you forced yourself to move. Moving where though, you had no idea. Would your home be safe? Should you even try to get there? Your legs began to push forward of their own accord, taking you away from whatever was going on here.

A screeching sound rang out and you whipped your head in the direction of the sound. A large shape rushed by the corner of your eye, its speed too high to fully comprehend what you had seen. Adrenaline took over again and you began running in the opposite direction. 

An army truck roared into view, a speaker on the roof blaring out a message- ‘STAY INSIDE! TAKE COVER!’ Suddenly the truck was violently flipped into a nearby building. You skidded to the floor and looked to where the truck had previously been. Your mouth fell agape at the scene before you, a giant monster stood in the centre of the road. 

You froze, taking in the unbelievable sight before you, as a woman ran past you shouting for help. The monster's head snapped towards her and it lunged, smashing her into the ground with one swift swipe. 

A scream stuck in your throat and you scrambled backwards. What the hell just happened? What the hell was going on? You had to be dreaming, this was some manic nightmare and you prayed you’d wake up soon. 

You continued to crawl backwards, your hands scraping against the rough ground. Whatever was left of the woman’s body laid a few feet away from you. The creature's head turned, snapping towards any sound that rang out. You held your breath, every instinct in you told you to stay silent. 

A siren sounded out nearby and the creature bounded off towards it, Seizing the moment you scrambled to your feet and sprinted down a small alley. Hoping that the narrow passage would provide some sort of cover. You crouched low behind a bin, curling yourself into a ball and covering your head. You could still hear the sounds of the absolute havoc going on around you. 

Tears began to stream down your face, you wrapped your shaking hand around your mouth to stifle any sobs that threatened to escape. You were, understandably, terrified. Nothing could prepare a person for this situation. Your body shook uncontrollably and your mind raced, trying to grasp at any logical explanation. 

You shifted slightly and felt your phone digging into you from your back pocket. Your mind instantly fell to Eric, was he okay? You grabbed your phone, without thinking you tried to call him but the line was completely dead. You prayed he was okay, that he’d found a safe place to hide. You knew you couldn’t stay here forever, maybe you should make your way to where he was and try to find him. 

A crashing sound echoed in the alleyway and you looked up just in time to see one of the creatures jumping from one roof to the other. Debris cascaded down and the last thing you remembered was raising your arms to shield yourself from some falling bricks before the world went black. 

You regained consciousness hours later, it was dark and the chaos from before had fallen eerily quiet. Dust completely covered you and your head throbbed. You tried to focus and come up with a plan but the pain was making it difficult to think clearly.

You brought a shaky hand up to your forehead to try and alleviate some of the pressure. Your fingers met something warm and sticky, pulling your hand away you were sickened to see your fingers covered in blood. A groan threatened to escape but you quickly remembered the situation, remembering how quickly the monster had reacted to sound. 

Despite the pain you knew you couldn’t stay here much longer. Deciding it would be safest to move once it was daylight you huddled closer into the small space you found yourself in. 

The silence pressed down on you, making every breath you took sound far too loud. You put your hand in front of your mouth to dull the sound of your laboured breaths. Images of the creature's viscous attack flashed across your mind. As the hours drew on, the terrifying thought that there were probably more of them gnawed at your mind. The city was far too quiet for there to just be one.

As you hugged your knees to your chest, praying for time to move faster, your thoughts circled back to Eric. Had he managed to find safety? You didn’t let yourself think of the alternative. You hoped with every ounce of strength you had left that he was somewhere safe, and that you’d be able to see him again.  

As a dim light began to rise, a rhythmic thumping noise began to grow louder and louder. As it drew closer you realised it was a helicopter and from it a message was blaring out.

‘BOAT EVACUATIONS ARE BEGINNING NOW AT SOUTH STREET SEAPORT. TRAVEL SOUTH WITH EXTREME CAUTION.’

You forced yourself to stand, taking small careful steps forward as you focused on the remainder of the message.

‘THIS IS A MANDATORY EVACUATION ORDER. WE REMAIN UNDER ATTACK, SEEK SHELTER ON WATER, THE ATTACKERS CANNOT SWIM.’

Hope. If you could make it to the boats you stood a chance of escaping this living nightmare. You made your way to the alley's exit and tried to figure out the best way to go. The street that you would usually expect to see filled with people and cars was silent. The paths were now littered with rubble, cars were abandoned haphazardly, smoke billowed from a few of the buildings and people’s belongings were scattered everywhere you looked. 

The once vibrant and bustling city had been turned into a war zone. You began to make your way south, walking as quickly as you dared to go. Every small sound had you on edge, terrified that one of those things was going to appear at any moment. Your head still throbbed though the blood covering your forehead seemed to have dried.

As you continued through the city, more people began to come into view. As everyone silently walked in the same direction you couldn’t help but look to the other faces around you, hoping to find a familiar one in the ever growing crowd. Dread filled every step you took, the more people that joined the silent march the more you lost hope. How would you find Eric in all of this? 

You clenched your fists, determined to not let thoughts like that overwhelm you. Eric was okay, he had to be. 

Before long at least a hundred people, maybe even more, had joined the crowd you were in. No matter how quiet everyone was trying to be a group that large couldn’t help but give off noise. You carefully made your way to the edge, thinking it would probably be best to find another way to get to the seaport, away from the bustling of the large group. 

Just as you made it to the edge, loud screams tore through the air sending a chill down your spine. The monsters had found you all. Panic instantly erupted in the crowd, people tried to run, desperate to escape from the terror that had arrived. 

Your heart raced as you dived into what had been a clothing shop. You ran to the back and crouched behind an overturned display, trying to steady your breathing. Peeking through a crack in the counter you could see the creature's terrifying forms moving wildly through the crowd. 

You waited with bated breath, until the world had fallen silent again to emerge from your safe spot. Your whole body shook but the seaport was still your only chance to get out so you forced yourself to move. Slipping back onto the street you found it almost empty, a few survivors darted away, smoke billowed from buildings, more rubble had fallen and in the middle of it all stood a black and white cat.

The cat seemed to be looking at you. You tentatively took a step towards it, but it scampered off. Your eyes followed it, watching as it playfully chased a rat down the middle of the road, before it ran towards a subway entrance out of your eye line. For that brief moment, amidst the devastation the sight of the cat felt strangely grounding.

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you had been holding and turned away, refocusing yourself. You didn’t think you had too far to go now, though the imminent threat had you treading carefully, staying vigilant to not draw any attention to yourself.

As you continued the sun began to slowly set once again, how had a day passed already? And to make your journey even harder, it began to rain. Deciding it would be too dangerous to continue at night in the rain you opted to find shelter. 

You found a small abandoned cafe nearby and slipped inside, grateful to be taking shelter from the hard rain. You tried to make yourself comfortable behind the main counter. The hours dragged on as you stayed hidden, listening to the thunder rolling overhead. Exhaustion tugged at your eyelids, though you fought to stay awake, fearful of what could happen if you let your guard down. 

You found a small abandoned shop nearby and slipped inside, grateful to be taking shelter from the hard rain. You tried to make yourself comfortable behind the main counter. The hours dragged on as you stayed hidden, listening to the thunder rolling overhead. Exhaustion tugged at your eyelids, you fought to stay awake, fearful of what could happen if you let your guard down. 

Dawn broke and thankfully the rain had stopped. You cautiously stepped out, determined to reach the seaport as fast as possible. You kept to the shadows, moving as swiftly as you dared. It wasn’t long before the faint sound of water lapping the docks reached your ears. Turning the corner you spotted a crowd waiting at the edge of the water, silently filling onto a boat. The sight spurred you on, safety was so close. 

You stumbled onto the deck, your trembling legs almost giving out beneath you as relief flooded over you. A shuddering breath escaped you as you looked back to the city, now a desolate landscape. You found a spot near the back of the boat, watching as others boarded too, their faces a mix of exhaustion and desperation. 

As you looked over the people boarding, a tousled head of brown hair caught your eye. You stood up on your tiptoes, your heart beating faster. Could it be him? It was like a scene from a movie, the crowd began to part, you held your breath as the man's face face was slowly revealed to you. Though your heart dropped as more of his face came into view. It wasn’t Eric. You felt foolish, believing that out of everyone in the city you’d actually make it onto the same boat as him.

Taking a seat you wrapped your arms around yourself. It all felt surreal, being caught between two worlds. The chaos you had escaped and your uncertain future that lay ahead. The boat pushed away from the city, finally putting the hell behind you. All that was left for you to do was to wait, and hope that everything would turn out ok. 

‘Stop the boat…STOP THE BOAT!’ shouting jolted you from your thoughts. The urgency in the voice made everyone turn back to look at the city. Standing you followed the gazes of everyone on board and spotted a lone figure sprinting towards the water’s edge. The sight of the monsters chasing them made your blood run cold. 

The entire boat seemed to hold its breath as the person ran with everything they had, the monsters closing in on them fast. Without hesitation they leapt into the water, narrowly escaping the creature's outstretched arms. People rushed to the side of the boat, lowering ropes as they shouted encouragement. You noticed a discarded blanket on the deck, and grabbed it, knowing they would need it.

As you pushed through the crowd you caught sight of a drenched cat being lifted from the man's hands. And then your breath caught in your throat. The man’s eyes met yours and time seemed to stop. It was Eric. 

The shock hit you like a wave and before you could fully process what was happening you lunged forward, reaching out for him. ‘Eric!’ His name escaped your lips, a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming relief.

He looked equally as stunned as he whispered your name, his voice full of emotion. You fell to your knees in front of him and wrapped your arms around him tightly, afraid he might vanish if you let go. ‘You’re here,’ you heard him murmur as his arms closed around you. Tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision as you held onto him. ‘I thought…I didn’t know if...’

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, not giving him a chance to finish that thought. ‘I’m here,’ you reached up and cupped his face gently. ‘We made it.’ You looked into his beautiful soft eyes, his tears mirroring your own. You wiped away a stray tear and smiled as he leaned into your touch.

And then, without another word, seeming more determined than you’d ever seen him, Eric closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a desperate but tender kiss. The warmth of his touch grounded you in a way that nothing else could, washing away the horrors of the past few days.

Eric’s hand came up to cradle the back of your head, deepening the kiss as if he was pouring all his unspoken words into it. When you finally pulled away, breathless, his forehead rested against your own. ‘We made it,’ he echoed your words, his voice barely above a whisper as his lips brushed against yours.    

Against all odds you’d found each other. The world around you seemed to fade away as you sat there, holding on to one another. The boat rocked gently beneath you as it resumed its journey away from the city. Despite everything that happened, despite the chaos of this new world, you were together, and for now, that was enough. 

[instarsandcrime]

Over the Radiowaves (2/2)

@ripelytoo So imagine me kicking down the door, completely out of breath with my hair partially on fire because hoo boy that took so long and thank you so much for your patience! Writing Vox and Alastor + life stuff got in the way of everything but I finished within the deadline baby! I hope the wait was worth it! We got silly, hurt/comfort, a smidge of emotions and feels, fluff, etc. Plus questionable, slightly less one-sided Radiostatic?

This is a sequel to @rosieknows's own request Under the Weather, so go check out part 1 if you're interested in starting from the beginning!

Quick cw: there is a small bit of mess at the end, though it's not very detailed. But I wanted to give a heads up at the end!

I'm gonna go lie down...in the meantime, thank you for the request and enjoy the fic! 🩷

---

Vox would not call himself a reckless man.

He prided himself on his maturity, his restraint, and a dash of opulence for good measure. All in all, he was the definition of the highest perfection in technology, a one-man revolutionary that never seemed satisfied.

But fuck did he need a vacation.

And that was just the case, glaring at the very screen that not too long ago sang a song that continued to haunt his processors. And the worst part was that he didn’t know why. He couldn’t quite place it, but it bothered him beyond belief.

“Ht’chhzzzt!” Speaking of which. It's not that his vents were irritated by Alastor's flu. It was just some bug– a minor glitch in the system. He was, without a doubt, above such an outdated virus! Clearly the rattling of his exoskeleton was from the malfunctioning air conditioning because holy Here it was fucking freezing. Clearly the excess electricity that rose his core temperature was from a long night’s work. And clearly the tingle that came with it, the static shock that ran from his processors through his wiring…down to his sk-skull…building with electric sparks until– 

“Het’chhzzzzt! ET’CHHZZZZT! HET’KSHHHZZZT!” The sound of shattering rained down like knives, luxurious chandelier lamps burst and broken by uncontrolled power. “Eh…heh! HEKT’SCHHZZZT! Guhhh…”

Vox pursed his lips, flicking a shard of glass from his shoulder. Well, maybe he should pay the walking germ fest a visit anyway. Just to rub his good health in that smug prick face. He nodded curtly, ignoring the overwhelming dizziness and cooling fans that sputtered like an old, rusty engine. It was clearly a warning for his overheating mind. But he couldn't not be all there, could he? Because he was fine! Taking a deep breath-- or one that didn't result in a debilitating coughing fit-- he focused on where he wanted to go. Flipping through channels and pathways, he had planned on not looking too desperate.

Which he wasn't, of course.

Maybe in front of the hotel. A few blocks away, even. He could see it now: he'd stroll up to those stupid, gaudy double doors and invite himself in. Make a grand show of the lack of security. Brag about how weak and defenseless The Radio Demon was, and how Vox was clearly superior because machines don't...hheh...cahhh-catch the–

“Hekt’SHHHZZZ’hoo!”

It was around midnight when Alastor returned from his little excursion. Not to say his meeting with Zestiel was difficult, but it was...interrogative. The seven year absence can only boast mystery and intrigue when it remains an intriguing mystery. But now he felt quite silly for stringing one of his oldest friends along-- a little sympathetic, even. After all, the demon faced down on the hotel floor gave him a confusion and frustration that he didn't know was in him.

“Vox?” Alastor craned over the poor soul. Only for him to spring to life, finding balance with a hand to the wall.

“So we meet again, Alastor!” Vox laughed.

“What is happening.” His rival replied flatly.

“Isn't it obvious?”

“Is what obvious.”

“That I won! I beat you! You got sick and I didn't!”

A pause. Alastor looked at the state of the intruder. Then to the radio on his bookshelf, still flickering a striking electric blue. Then crossed the carpet with a sudden smirk on his face.

“I see! Then please, by all means, recount your glorious victory over the poor, defenseless Radio Demon!” He cried, holding a hand to his chest. “I deserve to hear it. All of it.”

“Well look who finally decided to give up and throw in the towel! And after I saved you from freezing face down in the snow!” His rival smirked drunkenly, tugging on his lapels– as well as himself, nearly stumbling into the corner of an armchair.

“A tantalizing sight, my life right in your claws for the taking.” Alastor recalled, catching Vox under the arms by the heel of his cane to push him upright.

“And– and I was the guy who carried you to the tower’s main office without being seen.” He slurred, pointing slightly left of himself. “You better be fuckin’ grateful, by the way. You almost blew my cover! Twice! Seriously, it's like your stupid flu was as disgustingly dramatic as y-yuhh-youhhh...are…! Hup’TSHHHZZT! HUTSCHHZZZZT!” 

A battered desk lamp flared in a firework of light before settling back again. The overhead bulbs momentarily shook with a sudden burst of energy. And in the middle of the flickering, flashing mess stood the Tech Overlord, sniffling miserably into a sleeve.

“Truly you are a paragon of grace and wit.” Alastor assured as he strolled towards the bathroom. Leaving Vox to follow him in his delirious, rambling rage.

“And then! And– Hep’shhhzzt! Sdnff!” His body jerked forward, screen glitching wildly just for a moment before resuming the one-man battle that he was definitely winning. "And then I treated you pretty good I think!"

"Well."

"Whatever! I– ihh- It’schhhzzzt! Ughh. Th’ point is that I took care of you! Monitored your temperature, gave you blankets, made you tea. And then you just LEFT! How's that for morality--" Alastor hummed nonchalantly, passing him a downy comforter. "--oh, thanks. I mean come on! I already had like ten different projects I'm working on so the least you could do is..."

The Radio Demon stood, waiting expectantly while his potential patient trailed off. Vox stared down at the gathered blanket in his arms, hoarse voice lowering. "...you're taking care of me."

"Ah, I see your wires have finally uncrossed! Truly a headline for the ages, don't you think?"

"You're taking care of me?"

"Would you rather I show you the door? Because--"

"No!" Vox blurted. Then remembering himself, cleared his throat with a thick sniffle. "No, no, uh. It's. It’s juhhst- huh! HUT’SCHHZZZT! Ughh..." Already overworked vents shuddered with the effort, and his entire frame followed suit as it struggled to adjust. "I just-- I haven't seen you in a while. The, uh, other you."

The silence was heavy, and it smelt of dust and mold stuffed deep in the back of a closet full of unwanted things. Alastor paused. He inhaled. Then exhaled. "Let's make a deal."

At that Vox opened his mouth, stopped by a hand. "Verbally. And one I'm sure we would both prefer."

"...Okay." He exhaled wearily, wobbling to sit by the fireplace. "Lay it on me."

Alastor replied with another contented hum, sitting opposite, Cheshire grin still plastered on his face. "You’ve had the chance to kill me before, but decided instead to spare my fate. As you mentioned quite loudly." Vox’s flushed face spread to the corners of his screen, sinking into the blanket. “And judging by a severe exhaustion not dissimilar to mine, I’m sure that returning to your tower would be a near-Herculean task. So, for your repayment, I will assist you for tonight and tonight only. No strings attached, no loose ends untied. Do you understand?"

The Vee swallowed harshly, stuffing down his pride as far as it could go. “Fine. It’s a deal. You win.”

"Excellent! Now, then." In a snap a flurry of inky creatures circled the two, hammer and nail at the ready. “I believe it’s time to claim my prize. Shall we begin, old pal?"

Alastor expected whinging and moaning. Maybe a little bit of desperation. But instead Vox was eerily silent. Sensors glazed over lying propped up on the headboard of his newly built bed, watching. Waiting. Mind completely and utterly glassed over with fog. Not even a half-witted jab at the old-fashioned mercury thermometer that slipped from between his fangs. Sighing heavily, Alastor poured a spoonful of medicine from a bottle, humming softly to himself as he tipped the rim into his patient’s mouth. And ever so slightly some color seeped into sepia tone. Alastor was sure the second of cognisance was the foul-tasting syrup until a few weak notes echoed back– breaking into occasional coughing fits that rattled the poor man's chest. 

“You can't seem to stay quiet, can you?” The Radio Demon snapped, though it had no bite. Closing his eyes, the soft broadcast of a song began to whisper. 

“Does this satisfy?” Vox nodded slowly. Alastor swallowed a nauseating pang of relief. 

It wasn’t long after that his caretaker was jolted awake, eyes pried open by screeching static and shouting voices. Pushing himself to his hooved feet, each delicate step across the room grew heavier and heavier as the deer demon approached. Through mucky speakers it sounded as if this fever dream was submerged in muck and grime. But between the two of them, the tangled mess of a memory from seven years ago might as well be clear as a spring. The reflection in the water stared back at him, and Alastor couldn’t help but watch. It was like a bad telanovela, and yet he could read every page of the script by heart.

“Listen asshole! You don't get to tell me what to do with my company and how I run it! I make the rules, not you.” The bitter voice crackled painfully behind the monitor.

“I assure you that my ‘rules’ are sound. These flashy entertainment devices and security systems you flaunt are completely and utterly worthless in the face of the exterminations, and yet you claim they bear the freedom and safety to back it up. It’s foolish and irresponsible to half-ass a game if you hold all the pieces.” Alastor muttered, mimicking his younger self that responded in kind. He squeezed a fistful of comforter until it ripped. 

“Fuck no! VoxTech was made so sinners can feel safe. Seriously, what is your damage? You hide the fine print just like us, so why the Hell are you throwing a bitch fit about a few white lies?”

“Sinners need an honorable deal, not a gaggle of snake oil salesmen. The Vees are built on false hope, I have the power to actually fulfill my promises.  And that, my dear, is the difference.”

“They want an out, I’m giving them an out!”

 Alastor shot upright to face the bastard, every twisted feature hemmed by an eerie artificial glow. “If you cannot understand why I despise your nonsense business practices made of flowery language and empty promises, then I r̵̨̞͑͠e̸͉͚͛f̸͈̅ù̵̹s̶͈̅ë̵͇͉́̎ to join your useless little team you absolute–!”

“--Listen asshole! You don’t get to–”

And all too suddenly, Alastor snapped back to the present. The angry burn on his cheeks faded as the same memory played again. And again. Skipping on repeat over and over and over like a useless, broken record. 

He stumbled, collapsing back on the edge of the bed. Calm yourself, it's just a nightmare. He'll break out of it eventually. But time passed again. And again. The horrid sting could not reduce itself to a dull itch, finally breaking its pattern when a pathetic whimper passed Vox's lips and– alright, that's enough. 

Waking a person from a nightmare was dangerous, doubly so if said subject was a demon– triply so for an Overlord. And although The Radio Demon held far more power and control over his rival, the Vee still had countless amounts of voltage coursing through his veins. Hauling himself to his feet, shaking his previous nerves loose before plucking a snuff box from a high shelf.

Well, he decided, better a sneeze than the electric chair.

Sitting again by Vox’s bedside, Alastor held the powder under the vents that dotted the sides of his patient’s face, watching them shallowly suck in air– taking a small portion with it.

“Hhh..!” The reaction was immediate. The sound of sniffling and hitching replaced the cacophony of his dream, and he twisted with discomfort. Stuck in a torturous loop, unable to sneeze out the irritant. Alastor huffed in annoyance, rolling his eyes.

“Always with the dramatics.” He chided.

“Snffff snff! Ugh! And whose f-fuh-fault is…is thahhhHHH–! Hhhhghh…th-that!” Vox warbled out, airy voice pitching higher and higher. Finally deciding to end his misery, Alastor traced the tip of his claw around his vents with a feather-light touch. Quickly distancing himself, as a final shuddering gasp was his one and only warning before–

“Het’tshhzzzt! H’tshzzzt! ‘Zzzt! Zzt! hhhhHHHH–! …Hekt’SHZZZZHOO!” 

A pop, and a firework of electricity branched from his core, erupting from his suit and branching out– which Alastor casually stepped to the side to avoid. “Gesundheit.” 

Unfortunately, the blessing was premature. “HUT’TSHZZZOOO! HUP’TSHZZZZZT’hoo…huh-hehhHHHTSHZZZOO!” The ground rumbled with scorch marks from the lightning storm. Somewhere in the hallway, the shattering of a bulb made Alastor’s ears press to his head.

“Do you want to wake the entire hotel?!” He hissed through clenched teeth.

“I cad't hhhheh! helb ihhdt! IT’SCHZZZZTHOO! Heh! Hhh! …hghh…” The chaos began to settle, leaving the cyborg gasping for air as Alastor slapped his hands against his vents. Cringing as a thick fluid brushed his ungloved palms.

“S’rry.” Vox mumbled sheepishly.

“You're ill.” Alastor spat regardless, pulling back in disgust, “If you're going to annoy me, don't take credit for things you didn't do.”

“...Okay?” The sickly demon blinked blearily. He tried to sit up, stopped by the head of a cane to his chest.

“Ah-ah, don’t get up. I'll be back in just a moment.” The other sneered, plucking a tissue from the nearby nightstand and, wordlessly, exited. Ignoring the harsh, obnoxious blow that followed.

It took minutes for Alastor to wash the unidentified liquid from his hands and handle. It took an eternity for Vox to fall back asleep. Maybe he did regret that argument from seven years ago. Maybe not. Either way, he scowled and turned his back to The Radio Demon.

Because just for tonight, Alastor had won. Again. He had been cared for, doted over, and treated with the utmost respect. For the first time in a long time, he had a taste of happiness from an old friend.

And honestly? It was awful.

[dreamingofmarauders]

You idiot!

Fred Weasley x fem! reader

Summary: In which Fred promises you he will be careful during the battle, but things don't always go to plan.

Trigger warning: Violence, death (to some sort), blood, injury

Note: Not really sure what I did, but I tried. Also if anything seems off, I am sorry, but I tried my best to catch any mistakes. I hope you all will enjoy it to some extent! :)

𝐌���𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

It was the early hours of May the Second. Y/n sat at the Gryffindor table, her leg bouncing up and down in anxiety. A mere hour ago, y/n was in her room, flipping through a photo album of when she went to Hogwarts, giggling at the moving pictures that contained herself along with Lee, George and Fred.

Fred.

Her boyfriend. Her one true love.

The boy she had developed feelings for in her fourth year, not confessing until her final year, when the pair were stuck together in a broom closet which would not budge. Only when the two were in each other's arms had the door swung open to reveal a triumphant looking George and Lee. Turned out it had all been a scheme by the pair of best friends to get Fred and y/n to confess they fancied one another.

The two had been together since then. Fred had asked y/n to move in with him the summer after she graduated. The twins had left school earlier to start up their shop but also since they were done with the pink toad known as Umbridge.

Y/n had been living with Fred in the flat the two brothers had above their shop. Y/n realized she was in love with Fred when one night, Fred had found Y/n crying. Her last bit of family, her brother, her twin, had joined the Death Eaters. She had broken down completely at that but y/n slowly recovered. Months after the news, Fred had discovered y/n crying her heart out in their sitting room in the flat, much to his surprise. Fred had simply held her until she stopped crying, and then pampered her the whole night. It was then y/n realized she didn't fancy Fred, she loved him.

However, with Voldemort having taken over, they had shifted to Fred's Aunt Muriel's place. The months passed by slowly but each day was almost dreadful, as y/n feared of hearing of anyone else she knew having been killed by Voldemort's death eaters. At one point, y/n had decided to join alongside Fred, Potterwatch, a radio station with real, accurate, up to date news. She adopted the identity of Valerie.

As the clock was nearing midnight on May the First, y/n's quiet, peaceful atmosphere had been interrupted by Fred who had burst into her room, his face looking solemn. Y/n felt her stomach twist in nervousness.

"Freddie, what's wrong?"

"It's Harry. He's at Hogwarts, we've all been called to the front." Fred answered, holding up a coin that had been used for communication between D.A. members.

Y/n gulped.

This was it. The final battle.

It all ends.

Y/n had stood up and rushed into Fred's arms.

"Promise me." She said, her voice muffled against Fred's chest.

"Pardon me, love?"

Y/n broke away and looked up at him, raising her hand out. "Promise me you'll be safe."

"Love-"

"Promise me, Freddie."

Fred had looked at her with soft eyes until he sighed and nodded.

"I promise, my love."

As y/n sat in the Great Hall, listening to the instructions being given out, her head spun with many thoughts.

What if they lost? How many casualties would there be? And... what if something happened to Fred?

A warm hand intertwined into hers and y/n broke out of the cage in her head, and turned to look at Fred beside her. His chocolate brown eyes provided warmth, a comfort that made y/n feel at home. Fred was her home.

He gave her a reassuring smile, giving her hand a gentle squeeze, and y/n felt herself relaxed a bit.

Perhaps everything would turn out alright in the end.

Oh how wrong she was.

During the fight, y/n had been separated from the twins and she ran, dodging spells, helping anyone who needed help, fighting back her attackers.

Y/n needed to see him. She couldn't rest until she was with Fred again. Y/n rounded another corner and paused for a moment.

Fred and Percy had just backed into view, both of them dueling masked and hooded men. Harry, Ron, and Hermione came up behind y/n and the four ran forth to help:

Jets of light flew in every direction and the man dueling Percy backed off, fast:

Then his hood slipped and they saw a high forehead and streaked hair - “Hello, Minister!” bellowed Percy, sending a neat jinx straight at Thicknesse, who dropped his wand and clawed at the front of his robes, apparently in awful discomfort. “Did I mention I'm resigning?”

“You're joking, Perce!” shouted Fred as the Death Eater he was battling collapsed under the weight of three separate Stunning Spells. Thicknesse had fallen to the ground with tiny spikes erupting all over him; he seemed to be turning into some form of sea urchin.

Fred looked at Percy with glee before his eyes landed on y/n who had just stunned a death eater and turned to look at him. Although, Fred didn't realize, y/n's face had paled. Augustus Rookwood had shot a spell aimed in the two brothers' direction. Y/n began to move forth.

“You actually are joking, Perce… I don't think I've heard you joke since you were-“ Y/n got to Fred but right at that moment, the air exploded. They had been grouped together, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, y/n and Percy, the three Death Eaters at their feet, one Stunned, the other Transfigured; and in that fragment of a moment, when danger seemed temporarily at bay, the world was rent apart, y/n felt herself flying through the air, her grip tight on Fred, his arms around her.

The pair slammed onto the ground hard. Y/n's leg was warm and sticky, her skin burning, meaning blood was pouring out of a nasty gash. The dust and debris had swallowed them all in darkness, shouts and screams bounced in the now torn apart corridor.

When the dust settled, y/n was finally able to see. Her face paled and y/n's heart stopped at the sight before her.

Fred lay beside her, his body limp, his arms still loosely around her, his eyes shut, his head profusely bleeding.

"No, no, no..." Y/n murmured out in horror. Fred lay lifeless beside her. Y/n shook Fred, tears racing down her face. "No! You promised!" She yelled at him, beginning to lose control of her breathing. "Wake up!"

Percy and Ron kneeled down beside y/n, their faces distraught, shock flooding their whole body.

"Y/n," Percy tried, who was also crying. "He's gone-"

"NO! HE'S NOT!" She yelled at him, sobbing.

A thought suddenly occurred to her.

"Check his pulse!"

"What?" Ron spoke out, baffled. But y/n didn't hear, she hastily leaned forth and placed her ear against Fred's chest. Y/n strained to listen, her heart pounding harder and harder by the second. She couldn't hear anything and she was starting to lose hope.

Until, she did.

A very quiet and slow heartbeat answered to her.

Her Fred was alive.

A relieved whimper of joy escaped her.

"He's alive!" She said, crying with joy. The other two brothers looked at her with wide eyes and let out watery laughs of relief. Hermione and Harry smiled gently at that, wiping their tears away.

"We have to get him out of here." Percy ordered and with the help of Ron and Harry, they lifted up Fred and began to move as fast as they could, with y/n and Hermione right behind them.

Although not too soon did a loud, menacing voice ring throughout the whole castle, causing all signs of the battle to cease.

Lord Voldemort had granted Harry Potter an hour to surrender himself or watch the battle resume once more, with even deadlier consequences.

The group walked off to the Great Hall, where everyone was regrouping. Bodies of the fallen were being brought in, the injured were being treated, families searched for one another and hugged one another out of the relief of being alive. That was how the rest of the Weasley family was.

They were gathered together, embracing one another and trying to find more of their group. George was the first to spot the newly arrived.

His eyes went wide as his face paled. He felt all the breath leave him at the sight of his twin, his best friend, being carried in such a state, making George fear the worst. The rest of the family, noticing George's gaze, turned and felt all their worst nightmares come true.

Molly was the first to act, rushing forth as Percy, Ron and Harry gently placed Fred on the ground.

"My boy!" She cried out, going onto the ground beside y/n. She then looked at Y/n who sat there, staring numbly at Fred. "Oh my dear, y/n..." Molly said, bringing her into a hug. Y/n embraced the older Weasley tightly before pulling apart.

"He's alive." Y/n said, causing the whole family to sigh in relief, as Percy came with Madam Pomfrey who immediately began to tend to Fred.

They all silently watched, and after a painfully long ten minutes or so, the matron straightened and said, "I've done everything I can. He should wake up soon." With that, Madam Pomfrey moved onto another patient.

They all nodded, waiting for Fred to wake up.

Not soon after, Fred suddenly gasped, his eyes fluttering open, roaming around as he tried to recall where he was. The entirety of the Weasley family plus Harry and Hermione let out cries or gasps of relief. Y/n had begun to cry, and that's what made Fred look at her.

His eyes softened and he slowly sat up, wincing at the pounding in his head. Fred gently placed his hands on y/n's face, making her look up at him.

"Y/n," Fred said, feeling his heart shatter as y/n merely began to sob. "Y/n, love-"

Suddenly, y/n smacked Fred on the arm, making him groan and everyone else to look on with surprise.

"What was that for, love?" Fred murmured out in pain.

"You idiot! What were you thinking? Joking around like that during a battle? You bloody promised to be safe!" Y/n let out a sob once again, "I almost lost you."

Fred sighed and brought the girl into his chest, who held onto him tightly afraid he would disappear.

"I love you." She breathed out, making Fred freeze at the confession. He placed a kiss on y/n's head.

"I love you too, darling. I love you so much." He confessed back

With that having been said, the two would repeat those words to each other everyday for the rest of their lives, as Harry would claim victory over Voldemort in the final battle, ending the reign of terror over the wizarding world for good.

[theknightmarket]

"I think this belongs to you."

In which Google and Bing experience some flaws in their code. Part 1 - Part 2 TW: cursing Pages: 22 - Words: 8000

[Requests: OPEN]

It was funny to realize Google had developed that classic android trait of ‘ew humans’. It was funnier to see happen in real time. You went from Titanic to The Shining to The Truman Show, before you ended on the Sound of Music. That last one was a treat for you, especially because you were hiding a pen at your side to mark on your arm the number of times Google grimaced in the course of the movie. It wasn’t hard to predict his distaste for musicals, which was half the reason you were tempted to show him the illegal ones filmed with a shaky phone and constant background chatter. The other half was because this was likely to be the last time you would spend quality time with him.

Sure, it was a little odd to call part of your job ‘quality time’, but you were enjoying yourself, and Google had yet to leave in a huff, so he couldn’t have been that off-put by random bursts of song. It gave a hint as to why you felt so bad when you saw the email notification pop up on your laptop just a couple hours after the quant movie festival.

You were finally doing the worst part of building anything electrical – transferring the sketchy code, with all its inside jokes and midnight ramblings, to the formal logs to send off to the company. Clean it up and stick it in a file, really, that was all you had been planning to do for the night, so that you could gradually wind down from the stress and excitement of the day. Plus, you needed a break from Google’s philosophical questions, and typing on your keyboard a toned-down version of what was already there was about as mind-numbing as it got.

And then, as the click of a square bracket showed the end of an instruction, the notification pulled itself out from the corner of your screen. You barely had time to read the address line before you paled, swallowed, and then promptly ran out the lab altogether.

Your mind was racing just as fast as you were. You swung yourself out the door and up the stairs, aiming for the bowl where your car keys were thrown every morning. You felt like you were going to have a heart attack. It ached like you were already going through one. How long did you have until it gave out? Minutes, seconds? Nothing registered until you were in the driver’s seat of your car, hands on the wheel and the keys jammed into the ignition, albeit untwisted. You weren’t planning to go anywhere. Where would you go? Where could you go where you could get away from the consequences of your actions?

In the end, you let your head fall to the top of the wheel and held it there while your shoulders slackened, and your breathing evened out.

You knew this was going to happen eventually. You had known since that first email the company had sent you. 

Your time was up, and so was Google’s. With you, at least. You hadn’t read the full thing but there was no doubt that the email contained the dates he needed to be completely finished and polished by. Deadlines always made you feel queasy, but this made you feel sick to your stomach.

It only got worse when you returned to the lab after your little freak-out.

You had taken ten minutes by yourself to think it all through. You were alone, the car was quiet, you were protected by the metal casing from the reality of the situation. Still, you should have known that the android designed to care for people would be concerned by your rushing out of the house like a bat out of hell. Google didn’t have the mother-hen instincts that you had first assumed anything domestic would need – he had traded in the hushes and smiles for sarcasm and deadpans, instead – but that didn’t mean he was completely ambivalent about your state. If he wasn’t going to chase after you, then he was going to fix the problem at the source.

The door to your lab, which you had left open, teased you as you stumbled towards it. You weren’t at your best yet, and you had a moment wherein your vision swam and your throat went dry before you forced yourself down the stairs again.

Damn it.

Google stood right in front of your laptop, back facing to you and head fixed directly to the screen. Despite not having opened the email, it would take less than a literal super-computer to access it.

Tentatively, the softest you had ever spoken to him, you called out, “Hey, Google?”

You grimaced at your own voice, and then ever more so at the silence that followed. Did he have the ability to be angry? This was the most you had ever cared about another’s emotions, and you didn’t even know if he could have them.

“Google?” You stepped forward as you tried again, and then took another step when he stayed silent. “Are you back to shutting off?” Another step. “Look, I know the neighbors are loud, but Abigail is just a baby, and you’ll find out how hard they are to keep quiet…”

You regretted the joke the second it was past your lips. It both fell flat and reminded you exactly what you were worried about. You were just great at comforting people, weren’t you?

Now standing only a few feet away from Google now, you could feel something coming off him. You thought you imagined it until you stopped assuming the metaphorical; it was warmth. It was then that you noticed the whirring of his fans in his chest, ineffective if the heat streaming from his was anything to go by. The last time you had seen something like this was when you had first given him mobility in his legs, and he spent the first day and a half looping the lab’s tables and machines. You had been overjoyed back then.

You were plagued with regret.

“Eleven-fifteen, April 12th—” Google stayed perfectly still as he read out the email, “—‘Dear Chief Engineer, the android project has been arranged to be showcased at the Ladia Electronics Center on April 20th at four-thirty PM. Members of staff are due to retrieve the android project form your residence at twelve PM on April 15th, and we trust that everything will be in order by then. Sincerely, David Plymouth’.”

Well. You were right. It was the deadlines. But what could you do about it? Nothing. Nothing at all. You were helpless. Google spoke with such formality that, if you weren’t the one to build him, you would think he were running off a script. But you were the one to build him, and you knew that, beneath the metal faux skin, nestled in the wires and pumps and tubes, he was livid.

“Google, we’ve been over this,” you muttered. You wanted to sound confident, convincing, calculated, all the things you weren’t. “You were created to be a service android; they’re going to want to show you off to potential buyers of investors. I, I can’t do anything about it.”

The word service left a sour taste in your mouth, because he wasn’t just some microwave or vacuum cleaner. He was alive. It was your mistake, but you couldn’t change it now.

Even as your throat tightened, as if to strangle itself so the words wouldn’t get out, you kept talking. “It’s either I let you go, or I blow off an insanely powerful company, one that could easily get me arrested for breach of contract and take you anyway.”

He still wasn’t talking – why wasn’t he talking? He was capable of speech, he was just being petty. When he couldn’t form a word, he was more responsive. You hated this. The feeling of disappointing someone you cared about was exactly why you went into robotics in the first place, and then you’d taken the stupid job of creating an entire person, with all those feelings that you hated. You regretted it. If you were able to go back, you would have trashed the email and blocked the number immediately.

Except you wouldn’t. Obviously. Google was the best thing that you had ever made, that had ever happened to you. You wouldn’t give him up for the world.

You just had to convince yourself and him that you weren’t giving him up.

“Why don’t you want to go?” you asked. “It’s just one afternoon.”

Silence. The air was stifling, and the room was closing in.

“Hey, I know you can talk now, so give me an answer.”

“I don’t want to go.”

Finally. You sighed in relief, unaware of yourself as you moved beside him. From there, you could see his eyes better. They were transfixed on yours, those blues the same shade as everything else about him. So robotic, and yet so vibrant. 

“Why not?” It was easier to be reassuring when you were face to face. “I know it’s not going to be fun, but it was bound to happen eventually.”

“Your prime instruction allows me to deny any other instructions that I do not want to follow.”

As proud as you were of him for figuring out the concept of want, this was an inopportune moment, and for all your preaching of his freedom to choose, everything was falling down around you now that neither of you could.

“I know, but not without explanation, I…” You felt something snap within you as you averted your eyes. Immediately, everything went out of focus, and your thoughts took over. Google stayed watching you, never moving, never blinking, never removing his attention. “Google, you’re going to have to go eventually.”

Permanently. That was the word that chocked you in your throat. A hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing with a vengeance, like it was your fault. Was it your fault?

“I am aware,” came the response, slow and steady, “but, and I apologize if this is inappropriate, please, do not let them take me, for now, at least.”

His tone shattered your heart; if you had been told an hour before this moment that the sarcastic, teasing android who would sigh and roll his eyes if you were drowning, would ever say please, you would have asked if you were talking about the same guy. And yet, there he stood, close enough that you could wrap your arms around him for comfort, hesitant desperation coating everything.

“I’ll try.”

His eyes softened, you could have sworn you saw the edge of his mouth twitch upwards for the briefest second, but the fans in his chest still whirred as if they were tasked with cooling hell. In fact, they seemed to pick up in speed.

Gently, you patted his arm. “We need to get you checked out.”

He nodded. You swallowed. The pair of you assumed your positions at your desk. 

You promised that you would try.

But apparently you didn’t try hard enough.

“With all due respect, the robot is a robot, it can’t think for itself or make decisions.”

Every time you thought it was as bad as it could get, it got worse, and every time you thought it was the end, it started up again. You had responded to that email, went back and forth with the company, compensations, exchanges, bargains – at one point, you had lied to them that Google had a severe glitch in his system that made him unsafe to be around families, but they shot you down by pointing out that he’ll just be on show for the first few months. Now that the framework was complete, they could build the rest of the features into him with updates from a team of engineers.

They were taking Google and leaving you behind.

“It has no authority here, and, frankly, neither do you.”

The staff member that stood in front of you was pissing you off, plain and simple. She wore that classic, stuffy get-up of a black suit, sunglasses, and an earpiece – as if you needed any more reason to glare at both her and the rest of her posse as though they would keel over if you tried hard enough. The woman, presumably the leader, had already sent two of her colleagues down to your lab, while another two stood behind her. If they thought it was for her protection, they were damn right.

“How do I not have any authority? I built him!”

“Yes, and, as you can see, he has been built.”

Familiar clunky steps covered the sets that accompanied them. Google didn’t say anything as he was escorted to the door, but that didn’t make it any less painful. In fact, you would have preferred he did. You knew he should have been making snide remarks at someone, even if it was you. Instead, he stared at nothing in particular, mouth closed and marching forward like a toy that had been wound up at the back.

“That means that, really, you aren’t needed anymore,” the woman continued, ignorant to or uncaring of your disgust. “It’s fine, you can let him go.”

Your blood was boiling beneath your skin. Google and the men had gotten to the bottom of your driveway, where a white van was parked. Your body reacted automatically, and you were taking steps forward and out of the house before you could process it. The thing that stopped you was a hand on your upper arm. This was spitefully similar to a kidnapping, except you were watching it happen, and the victim wasn’t fighting back.

“And what happens,” you spat, “if he breaks, if he gets damaged or something goes wrong? Who are you gonna turn to then?”

A mocking smile crept onto her lips. “That’s why we have the code logs, isn’t it? Every detail is there, so if anything goes wrong, we’ll just check it.”

“And mess him up even more?” Just the thought of someone else getting their hands on Google’s wiring made your stomach churn and your fists clench. It had taken you months after he became conscious to get that far. You built up a relationship, you listened to him, you made sure to be safe and gentle. There was no way to make sure that the cold scientists he was going to be delivered to would pay attention to him.

But that was in the future. In that moment, you could only bargain.

“Why don’t you just bring him back after the conference and then I’ll be able to check him over?”

She didn’t respond immediately, and there was enough of a pause for you to catch Google’s look over his shoulder. It wasn’t long, and it was overshadowed by the sunlight framing the scene, but it was the first time you had met his eyes since those crooks had arrived. The pure panic would stay with you for the rest of your life. There was no anger, no sadness, just a fear that made your mouth go dry.

And you couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

The woman put her hand on your shoulder. You fought back the urge to snap her wrist.

“Look, I get it.” Her tone was a poisonous mixture of faux-comfort and smugness. “When I was younger, I had this pet gecko, and he lived on my bedside table. I took care of him like the son I never had.”

What the fuck?

“One day, I came home, and my parents were putting him in the wild because they didn’t think it was good for me to be so attached. And they were right. So, even though I was sad, I let them take it. And look at me now, I’m better than I was when I was a kid, right?”

Your only thought of ‘what the hell are you talking about and what substances have you taken today’ was translated to her as, “What’s your point?”

The gentleness fell out of her voice as quick as it had arrived. “Let us do our jobs, and let the damn robot go.”

The sliding door to the van slammed shut, followed by the opening and closing of the front doors. The other three that were left didn’t say a goodbye before they were walking to their own car, and, soon enough, you were the only one still standing on your doorstep.

You were alone.

Google was gone.

What were you supposed to do now?

You cried. For the next two weeks, you cried in every room of your house. The worst places were your bedroom and the lab, for obvious reasons, until it got to the point that you turned out the light, locked the door, and simply stopped going down those stairs. You didn’t have any work to do – getting the message from your bank to say that the payment had gone through made you dizzy with regret – so you had nothing to distract yourself with. You wandered through the halls of your empty home like a ghost.

Before the company had commissioned an android to be built, you had lived alone. Going from a college student who only just managed to take care of a Roomba to checking up on a whole fully functioning person was a drastic change, and so was returning to square one. Everything was so quiet. Google didn’t always talk, but there was a whirring that accompanied him wherever he went, and he had no chance of moving quietly with all the stuff packed in him. When he did voluntarily make noise, it was a sarcastic comment or a philosophical question that made you think about your own life. They were gone, and so was he.

It was weird to admit that you missed him.

You were sitting at your dining table, fiddling with a finance spreadsheet on your laptop, when the mail icon appeared at the side of your screen. Your hand sprang into action and made to close it, the wound from what happened before not fully healed yet, but you stopped when your curser was hovering over the ‘x’ button. It wasn’t from Google.

And yet the subject line was eerily similar to what had kicked everything off all those months ago.

Figuring you could deal with actual work later, you opened the email and skimmed the information. Time, sender and grammar all checked out, so it wasn’t a scam. That didn’t ease your nerves much, and you were left with furrowed eyebrows and heightened shoulders by the final signing off.

It seemed that Microsoft had caught wind of Google’s little project, and, instead of fruitlessly searching for another engineer who could construct an android to the same quality, they went straight to the original source; you. They offered a six-month deadline, free reign over your work, and a $400,000 payout. Still riding high from certain recent events, you would have needed half of that to start working. The only problem?

You would have rather gouged out your own eyes that go through the heartache again.

Two trains of thought ran through your mind as you sat at the table. On one hand, getting attached to another of your creations would put your mental health into the red. You would be risking your sanity and your happiness because there was no way mega-corporation would let you keep the android. You would just end up in the same place as you were now, sitting alone in an empty house. But, on the other hand…

Who said you had to get attached in the first place?

You got close to a cold and calculated bastard of a bot, so, in theory, if you did a 180 and went down a completely different design path, you shouldn’t run into a problem. The email didn’t specify a personality, and there would be no need for two sarcastic pricks on the market – said with the most affection in the world, of course.

Tentatively, you opened up a new model creator on your laptop with the plan in mind to screw around for an hour or two and see what came of your experimentation. If nothing worked, that was that; you would reject the offer and go about your wallowing in your misery. If something did crop up, you weren’t going to fight it.

You were almost disappointed in yourself at how quick the ideas came to you, but not as much as you were at how quick you actually built the android.

It took you half the time to get to where Google had been at the six-month mark. You reused most of the physical assets from before, the body-shape, the circuitry, all the diagrams that you had safely tucked in a draw were spread out like a nest on your lab’s desk. The difficult part was the personality, because you planned to take the completely opposite path than you had with your first. Google treasured logic? This one would take the fun routes. That single comment about not liking the Vans Triple Crown? You plugged his storage right into YouTube’s Top 30 Epic Skateboarding Tricks. You went so far as to challenge his color scheme so that not a single drop of a cold palette would be seen.

After the fact, when you were wiping iron filings off your gloves and splattering yourself with orange paint, you couldn’t recall a single thing you had done in the last three months. Everything was a blur, but you had the code sitting on your laptop, as well as a fully complete android in front of you to prove it had happened.

Bing was ready.

And the very next day, you were ready to show him the world.

That led you to the local skatepark. It had been a while since you had last stepped outside your house, and even longer for something other than groceries. You weren’t sure if the place was still open before you were walking with Bing down to the metal fencing, but the skidding of wheels and uproarious laughter of children assured you that you didn’t need to turn around in shame.

The android bounced on his heels as you looked around the park. There were plenty of ramps – all with a healthy collection of graffiti, as you had expected – and a few groups of youths hanging about. Hell, you saw what you were pretty sure was a six-year-old glide down a stretch of tarmac in front of an ambivalent junior. Aside from the fact that Bing was slightly jacked for a teenager, he was going to fit right in, so you pushed him towards the closest feature and scanned the edges.

You noticed a bench underneath the leaves of a larger tree, so you made that your base of operations while Bing had his fun. You didn’t know how to skate yourself, and you were more than content to do work in the background. The code wasn’t going to transfer itself, right?

Your hand stilled over the trackpad. Damn it.

No, it wasn’t going to turn out like last time. You weren’t going to get attached. You weren’t, otherwise you wouldn’t have been allowing yourself to continue the project. You pledged that the minute you started to feel close with Bing, you were going to pass him off to one of Microsoft’s internal engineers.

Your own thoughts made you grit your teeth. ‘Pass him off’, like a chore that you didn’t want to deal with, like a job? But he was a job. You were commissioned to build an android for a powerful company. You didn’t need to care about him.

But it had happened last time, and you didn’t realise it until it was too late. What was stopping you this time? Your flimsy boundaries that you were already running over with a tank?

You slammed your laptop shut. The snap made you wince.

Everything was fine. You were capable of fulfilling an order without getting off track.

“Yo!”

The yell came from the ramp some distance away from you, but you still had a clear line of sight to watch Bing rocket into the air. Panic flooded you, pushing you to your feet and propelling you forwards. He was going to crash against the tarmac, he was a two-hundred-pound man of literal metal, and he was in the air, and he was coming down, and you couldn’t stop him. You stumbled over a spare skateboard in your flurry to get closer, but it didn’t matter because, when you skidded to a stop, Bing was back on the ground.

What was it with robots and putting you into mortal peril?

A cheer erupted around you. Most of the kids you had seen in the skate park at the beginning had convened around the newcomer, including a group of eighth graders who dashed to meet him in the dip. They gestured to parts of the ramp, exchanged some skater jargon that you were not young enough to understand, and then they all backed away again. Bing was left there, staring at the opposing concrete with a determined expression.

Your heart picked up again as you realized his thought process, but you didn’t try to stop him. He wanted to do this, and you weren’t going to be the one to stop him.

He clambered up to the higher platform while the kids continued to watch on. You tapped your fingers at your elbow, a nervous habit you never seemed to crack, and thoughts ran rampant in your mind. None were helpful, so you ignored all of them and simply shifted your attention to the excited grin drawn across Bing’s face.

He was encouraged by the whoops and whistles of the spectators, but he took a few seconds to run some calculations in his head. He wasn’t an idiot, at least, not in this situation. He understood the risks and consequences of sending a heavy – and, not to brag, expensive – piece of machinery down an eight-foot half-pipe. If he didn’t protect himself and everyone around him, things had the chance of going south real quick. That, and you were watching. He couldn’t mess up in front of you! The whir of his internal fans reached his ears at the mere thought of failing at something he was built for while the one who had actually built him for it watched.

He had to get this perfect.

Bing took a step closer to the edge, eyeballed the distance, which, for an android, was correct down to the millimeter, and then propped the skateboard a quarter into the air.

One last look at you revealed your obvious trepidation, but there was also a layer of pride underneath.

He took an unnecessary breath in and out, and then dropped off the side.

When you had been programming Bing’s skills and personality and everything else about him, you went in with the idea of going completely against your instincts. Unfortunately, that also meant going completely out of your comfort zone, so a good majority of what the android did wasn’t anything you had intimate knowledge of, and – as much as you would have liked to beat the nerd stereotype – you knew absolutely nothing about skateboarding.

Hence why your jaw dropped to the ground when you saw Bing’s trick.

Hell, it was more than a trick; it was a performance. He tipped off the edge and, with more force than normal because of his whole being-a-block-of-metal thing, picked up a lot of speed, which let him fall into the dip of the ramp and shoot up the other side, barely giving enough time for him to become more than a blur of amber. When he was in the air, everything moved so fast that you didn’t see his hand wrap around the board and only processed his 360 spin and then the complete flip of that same board. In your mind, warning lights flashed, and sirens blared. That panic reemerged with a vengeance – until Bing caught your eye and winked at you before rocketing back down to the half-pipe and gliding gracefully onto the other side’s platform.

Luckily, the cheering of the kids was enough to cover up the vicious beat of your heart that was in no way tied to that sneaky wink and had all to do with the danger he was most definitely in.

Obviously.

“Your boyfriend’s real cool, dude.”

“What?”

The kid at your side, no older than twelve, nodded towards Bing, who was trying to perfect a kick-flip with the guidance of the bunch of gremlins that surrounded him. For a moment, you regretted not programming him the ability to blush because it would have made the image so much better. For now, you had to be content with Bing’s nervous grin, orange rings flitting back and forth between chattering children and trying not to accidentally break the board in half – not that this was that bad in the first place. You deserved it after the things he put you through.

You looked back at the kid, barely able to open your mouth to ask, “Wait, boyfriend—?” before your feet started moving on their own. Or, more accurately, two pairs of tiny hands wrapped around your wrists dragged you towards Bing, who looked just as surprised that you were getting closer as you were.

Another third grader tapped on his elbow, prompting him to lean down so they could whisper in his ear.

A feeling of acute dread settled in your stomach at his sudden and worryingly devious smile.

It only took you another two minutes to start screaming, and it wasn’t some dignified, heroic yell. No, it was very much a shriek that translated how much you thought you were going to die.

“Oh, my god, oh Jesus goddamn Christ!” 

In context, it was even more pitiful. You were moving around 15 miles per hour in a straight line with Bing on the board behind you to hold your waist. You weren’t in danger, and, in theory, you knew that. The problem came with your inability to steer the damn thing, which intensified when your pseudo-instructor decided that now was the best time to hop off and let you go forward without him.

“Bing, I swear—!” You only restrained your language because there were kids around. 

Bing didn’t let that dissuade him, and he wouldn’t let your fear discourage you, either, if his encouragements were anything to go by. “You got it!”

“No! No, I don’t!”

“Sure ya do!”

You sure did not, because you crashed right into a park garbage can, and you might have assumed that calling it a crash was an exaggeration. It was not. Your stomach was pressed into the metal top – slightly warmed by the sun – but your legs curled around, so you ended up sliding right off and into the tarmac, which was as equally hot as the can. Neither of them compared to the burn of your face, spreading down to your neck and up to your ears, that you hoped you could blame on the humidity.

After flipping onto your back in an attempt to lessen the contact between you and the ground, you preemptively squinted to block out the sun, but you were, instead, greeted by a cooling darkness.

A groan dragged itself out of your throat when you noticed the utterly smug smirk on Bing’s face.

“You good down there?”

“Shut up.”

He was laughing at your plight, but he put out a hand, nevertheless. You were more begrudging to take it, even though take it you did. 

“This doesn’t make you cooler than me,” you muttered, swinging your legs around.

“’Course not.”

“Because you aren’t cooler than me.” You were about halfway up now, crouched but no longer feeling like select parts of your skin were on fire.

“Totally.”

One final tug had you pulled forward into Bing’s chest. Really, you had to stop colliding with stuff or you were going to look like you’d lost a paintball match, it was getting to be a bad habit, a truly serious problem, and you weren’t using the beratement as an excuse to not think about how close you were to Bing. The metal casing around his circuits wasn’t the superheated danger you imagined it would be, but then you heard the whirring of his fans beneath that shell. They seemed to be working overtime in the end of July weather, but you’d had far hotter days in the peak of summer. Were they malfunctioning? Distantly, a memory from months earlier knocked at the back of your mind. 

However, had you looked up, you would have realized that the cooling system wasn’t having technical difficulties. You would have realized that Bing’s eyes were buffering, the orange rings dipping in and out of focus through his sunglasses, as he struggled to process the situation. You would have realized that the trouble came not with his body, but in his understanding of his body. He was stronger than he assumed, and he had put a bit too much force into pulling you to your feet.

It was in that moment, that both you and Bing had a similar epiphany.

This was bad.

“Comfy?”

“Genuinely, yeah.”

You hadn’t put much stock into that thought at the time. Instead, you had taken a step back from Bing, ignored his hands that stayed on your upper arms to make sure you were steady, and moved on. You left the skatepark with a wave to the kids, while he had taken a few seconds to promise to return. He seemed to have had fun, so you wouldn’t mind going back every week or so. When you had offered, Bing accepted with none-too-little excitement. It had put a smile on your face that lasted even to eight o’clock that night, when the temperature and the lights dimmed into a peaceful atmosphere.

With no other projects to occupy your time, you were able to take the night to relax, mold yourself into your sofa and get your mind off current events. And future events. And past events.

It was a good thing the old college game of throwing food into someone’s mouth and scoring points based on how close you got was the perfect way to forget yourself, for the time being. That meant you were leaned on the arm of the couch and Bing was at the other end, a bucket on the floor and a pile of popcorn in his hand, as well as the remains of everything that missed tucked into the divots of the cushions. His feet were propped up on your lap, a weight that should have been heavier than it was.

The TV had been on since you had flopped down, but you didn’t switch over the channels, so it was mostly an indistinguishable background to the chatter between you and Bing, whenever you weren’t chewing on a kernel.

You were in the process of swallowing one, because you didn’t want to just grossly spit it out, when you unintentionally picked up on a news report. Going from the teenage-dirtbag experience of your little game to listening to that, you froze and hoped beyond all hope that it wasn’t what you thought it was.

Out of the corner of your eye, a newsperson relayed the most important stories they could fish out for the day from behind a white desk. A shot of a skyline backdropped them as they read from the teleprompter behind the camera. All of that was what you expected. You did not expect to see your first ever android appear where the buildings had been in the background.

You adjusted to sit up straight and turn your body to the TV.

It had happened that very day, apparently, at a conference meant to showcase Google’s domestic abilities. Just that mental image made you internally scoff. You had programmed him the ability to cook, sure, but you weren’t about to be the one to test them out. He hated making a meal more than he hated cleaning, and even then, he had grumbled and groaned the one time you made wash the kitchen floors.

He had hated. He had hated making a meal.

Despite the distance put between you, both city-wise and time-wise, it appeared that little fact hadn’t changed, because the order to make a pot roast resulted in a broken cutting board, a smashed light fixture and two separate fires. The conference was cut short, obviously, and Google was returned to storage while representatives apologized to everyone present. Investors weren’t so forgiving, and neither were the press. Insults were tossed left and right, some of which made your brow furrow, especially those aimed at the programming.

Yet, with all that, you weren’t sympathetic. You weren’t even sad. You were split between vindicated and totally and utterly pissed. Had they listened to you, none of that would have ever happened – and, sure, it didn’t affect you anymore after the company stripped your name from everything and anything attached to Google, but you had made him, dammit! He was good. He had been good.

You were silent in your anger and pride, staring intently into the screen, before a piece of popcorn hit your cheek and you slowly turned to look at the offender.

“You made that old man?” he asked. The teasing came with a concerned tone.

“Oh, yeah, but that was months ago.”

You sat back into the couch, softness embracing you. It would have been a lie to say you didn’t miss him. Anytime that your thoughts wandered close to your memories of him, you threw a lasso around them and tugged them back. You took a risk going down to the lab at all, and, even though you hated the comparison, Bing was an android just the same as Google was. You had built both of them. Their personalities were miles different, but they were both yours.

“Are… are you okay?”

You blinked back to reality. The android actually present had taken his feet off your lap and moved closer. The gentle frown was not the first thing you noticed about his face; the lack of sunglasses covering his eyes was much more shocking.

You muttered back, “Of course, just, uh, thinking.”

Once more, the room fell into silence, besides the report that had moved on to the weather, but it lasted only a moment before Bing piped up again, “What’d he do?”

“What? Bing, he didn’t do anything.”

“But he’s not here anymore, so he must’ve done something.”

Maybe it was sweet for him to assume it was someone else’s fault, and you could have allowed him to believe it, but you knew the guilt would gnaw at your heart until you caved in.

“No, he didn’t,” you sighed, “I- I let him go. The commissioners wanted to store him in a warehouse for conferences, and I couldn’t say no to them. You’ll have to go, too, when your company wants you.”

The unspoken question hung in your mind; would you be able to handle it, when that time, as it surely would, came?

Bing didn’t seem too worried about it though. “Nuh-uh! I’ll just use my charisma and good looks to make them let me stay.”

He said it like it was the obvious solution, with so much confidence that it rivalled Lord Byron, and maybe even Microsoft. There was a part of you that wanted to believe him.

“You’re going to bat your eyelashes at the retrieval staff, and, what, seduce them into leaving empty-handed?”

“Bet.”

Sometimes, you regretted hooking him up to Urban Dictionary to save time.

“Or would you rather me leave the seducing for you?”

And sometimes, you really regretted it.

Your heart was going wild in your chest. It batted against your ribcage as though it were trying to escape a lion, but it would have jumped into the danger of the shark-like grin on Bing’s face. Still, it only sped up when one of his hands came up to rest on your waist and the other dragged up your arm.

Bing may have been the android, but you were the one who short-circuited.

Whatever coolness remained in you after that whole skateboarding debacle dissipated into the surroundings, because your eyes were wide, and your heart was pounding, and Bing was getting closer and—

And he was laughing.

He pushed himself back onto the arm of the couch and clapped his hands together, violent glee racking his body. “Ha, gottem!”

The blush didn’t die down on your face, even as you took deep breaths in and deep breaths out. Of course, they weren’t to calm down your embarrassment, they were actually to convince yourself that literally pulling the plug on a three-month long commission for a mega-corporation wasn’t a good idea.

Your mind still wasn’t made up when a knock sounded at the front door. Bing was plastered in the cushions, so you were free to answer it without him trying to act as an ineffective guard dog.

His call of, “I’m sorry!” was interrupted by more giggles.

Shaking your head, you added another factor to the ‘pros’ column as you pulled open the door.

“I think this belongs to you.”

You weren’t given enough time to process the view on your doorstep before a heavy weight was thrown into you. 200 pounds pressed against your front, which you struggled to pivot into the wall. When you were able to let go, though, all of the redness in your face drained out of it.

“Google?”

The android himself spared a pleasantly apathetic look down at you – one you recognised as being the happiest you had ever seen him in his time with you. What the hell had happened?

“Did you see the news?”

The voice, familiar enough to make your blood boil at the intonation of it, snatched your attention away to the sight of that woman from before, who wore the same black suit and sunglasses.

“Yeah, the conference—”

She cut you off, as if you needed another reason to hate her, “Was a complete failure because of some bug in its code that you’re responsible for.”

“How can I be responsible for something that I wasn’t given the chance to cause or fix?”

She stepped closer to you and through the doorway, and you could have sworn you felt Google tense up. “You’re the Chief Engineer, aren’t you? That means you’re in charge of the coding and- and whatever else goes on with that robot, right? And that means that its faults are your faults, too.”

You paused for the moment. You made no noise as you thought it through. You could have rolled over, could have nodded, said ‘yes, ma’am,’ and gone back inside the house, could have fixed Google up right as rain and then sent him off to the warehouse again. You should have let him go.

But you had already let him go once. You weren’t going to do it a second time.

“No, it doesn’t,” you stated roughly, “considering I haven’t spoken to anyone affiliated with Google in four months. In fact, I assumed this freelancing gig was over and done with.”

“Obviously, it isn’t, and we need you to sort out the robot before the conference next Tuesday.”

Oh, how kind of them to give you until Tuesday, when your calendar showed it to be a Sunday.

“There is no way I could figure out the problem and solve it in two days!”

“Oh, because you have anything else to do?”

“Hey, hey, hey—” In your brewing fight with the cliché of a super-agent, you hadn’t noticed the clunking steps of someone approaching, but you were proud to catch the slight look of confusion on Google’s face, “—chill it with the arguing.”

From around the corner, Bing swung into view. One of his hands grasped the border of the doorway to the living room, and his feet separated so that he filled more of the space. He reminded you of an owl puffing up to intimidate another bird.

The frown on Google’s face became more apparent as Bing spoke, “Look, lady, if the smartest person in the room says they can’t do it, then they can’t do it, ‘kay?”

The woman addressed you with stern distaste. “You made another one?”

“Yes, I did.” You leaned back so that she could see him better, and vice versa. “And this one was not commissioned with the laws of robotics in mind.”

In reality, you had made sure Bing didn’t have the ability to hurt anyone because you faced the very real risk of being arrested, but her paling face made the lie worth it.

“Is there anything else, or can I get to my work with a reasonable timeframe?”

Her eyes flitted behind you, but you didn’t pay much mind. You were too busy reveling in the panic you were causing – even if it was a tad mean – to notice what your boys were doing.

Bing was naturally a sweetheart; his guard dog attempts normally looked like a chihuahua who was biting off more than he could chew, and they never failed to make you smile. However, he was still a six-foot tall box of metal that was able to generate enough force to move a large truck. A lazy smirk and orange sunglasses weren’t going to easily distract from that, especially when he was purposefully showing off his teeth.

Google, on the other hand, maintained a threatening aura without having to be physically imposing. He looked much the same to Bing, but those factors were overshadowed by a glare that could make hell freeze over. A human body between him and a target was like putting a puddle in front of a raging wildfire, and his time at the warehouse had done him no favors. Any bartering for a sense of ethics or morality was better spent on dolphins.

You didn’t question why the woman was so quick to spit out an answer. “I can give you three days, then.” A glance over your right shoulder. “Four.” A glance over your left shoulder. “Five?” Her shivering gaze returned to yours. “A week, and that’s my final offer.”

“Alright, then, I’ll see you next week.”

And, just like that, she scuttled off to the white van that was waiting at the end of your driveway. You didn’t bother watching her drive away, and, instead, slammed the door shut and spun around to look at the now-two androids that stood in your home.

Bing was smiling brightly – not that you would have known he ever looked any different – and Google was as nonplussed as ever.

“Welcome home, Google.”

“It’s good to be back.”

Getting a hug would have been too much, and you knew that, but you assumed that was all you were going to get, a nice comment and the briefest twitch upwards of the corner of his lip. You weren’t even aware that a handshake was an option, but he definitely chose it.

Google’s hand was colder than you remembered, prompting you to briefly wonder how much the other engineers tampered with him before you brushed the question off in favor of tightening your grip. He nodded, and you nodded, both certain that this was the best outcome.

You parted slowly, and the warmth of a summer night swarmed your skin again.

“So, introductions are in order?” you asked. This wasn’t something you had prepared for, and you were already worried about how this would play out. With such drastic personality differences, there was bound to be friction. Hell, you had intentionally created Bing to be the opposite of Google, everything he…

Everything that he would hate.

As it turned out, spite always came back to bite you.

Still, you gestured to the orange android now stepping closer to lean against the wall next to you. “Google, meet Bing—” Your hand switched sides, “—Bing, this is Google.”

“’Suh, dude?”

Internally, you were screaming. Externally, you were waiting with bated breath. Neither were good sensations, and it only got worse in the seconds that were filled to the brim with tension.

Google didn’t say anything in response; he simply set his jaw, spared a glance towards you, and then promptly marched through to the living room, leaving you and Bing behind in more silence. 

But he didn’t kill him, so you’d take it as a win for now!

“We can always try again in the morning.”

“Definitely,” oh, you knew that tone, “little Chief Engineer.”

And you were right.

“Shut up,” you huffed.

You smacked his arm, winced at the sting afterwards, and then dragged Bing back to the living room, the android laughing all the while.

If he was going to be like that, he was going to have to figure out there was only one recharge station himself, then who would be laughing? Although, you would undoubtably have to deal with a petulant Google in the morning, so, just maybe, it wouldn’t have been any of you.

But that didn’t mean you would stop smiling.

[What do you mean it's been a year since the first part of this? What, totally not, no... noooooo... totally not. Uh, anyway, thanks for reading?]

[euphoricfilter]

hii!! i saw that you take requests? i was wondering if i could get a taehyung fluff where they celebrate their birthday! my birthday is Dec 31 and since his is Dec 30th i wanted something along the lines of like celebrating together alone bc my bdays have always been shitty and this year was the same so i want all the fluff you can give me please <3 if your requests r closed then that’s totally fine!!! i also wanted to say ur an amazing writer and i luv ur content so much!!

𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦:

pairing: kim taehyung x f! reader

genre: fluff || non-idol au || best friends to lovers au

summary: it was no secret that you had never been fond of your birthday, and taehyung hated that you always seemed to celebrate alone— your birthdays won’t be the only celebration each year now that taehyung’s flower has finally bloomed.

word count: 3.6k

tags/ warnings: fluff, nothing crazy, mild birthday slander, reader is an over-thinker, he calls her baby way too many times, tearful confessions

notes: I FOOKIN FINISHED ON MY BIRTHDAY LETS GO! this is my gift to all of you, my lovely readers!!

✿ ✿ ✿

Taehyung’s feeling for you were akin to a flower.

The day the two of you met, planting the seed of his budding feelings. Where you acted as the sunlight he needed to grow; wherever you were, he would follow—growing in whichever direction you were. The first signs of his seedling pushing past the surface of the soil had been months into your friendship.

Minutes after midnight and you’d been stood at his front door, cheeks washed red from the bitter winter air, almost hunched over as you catch your breath; clearly having ran, even as the clock struck 12 and a new day began. You hadn’t wavered from your mission, silently hoping that Taehyung was still awake, because even if it technically wasn’t his birthday anymore, you refused to let the magic fizzle out just yet.

“These are for you” you’d thrusted the bouquet into his chest, pretty little white narcissuses and prickly holly wrapped up in brown paper, tied ever so delicately with a white satin ribbon, where the little red berries rivalled the colour of your cheeks. Perhaps just as round, temping enough that Taehyung had to stop himself from asking to sink his teeth into your supple looking flesh.

“I looked online and it’s your birth flower” you’d told him, standing up a little taller, a little more confident when you see his blooming smile.

“You did this for me?” he asks, bearing the brunt the frigid December cold as he pulls his door open wider, fingers gentle as they close around your wrist, tugging you into the warmth of his apartment.

You nod, hands cupping around your cheeks to try and warm your face up a little. Radiator in the hall sending waves of mellowed heat your way until you could feel the tips of your toes and fingers, nose no longer icy.

Taehyung couldn’t help but smile, and you couldn’t help but think he had the prettiest smile you’d ever seen.

Always so radiant, always so expressive, always so Taehyung, that you couldn’t help but think your efforts were worth it when he looked down at you like that. The miniscule pain of scouring the city for a flower shop willing to help you late into the night, and winds that had almost knocked you over, it didn’t matter because Taehyung was smiling at you like that. Pretty-pretty Taehyung and his pretty-pretty smile.

“Thank you” he’d laughed, “Thank you so much. How about some hot chocolate to warm you up?” he’d offered, and you’d agreed, how could you not?

The stem of Taehyung’s flower had grown fast, with every free weekend the two of you spent together, the little spark of developing love had burst into rapid flames.

Taehyung didn’t mind, revelled in the fact he felt something so raw about another person, never having felt anything like this before. He’d been unsure, fumbling over himself until he found his footing, worked out what you liked and what you didn’t. A little clumsy with his growing adoration until he sat back and realised the feelings he had for you were very real. A shadow in his mind weighing the consequences of acting on his emotions, because why would he fuck this up if he already had you? Maybe not in the exact way he wanted, but it was better than not having you in his life at all.

He wasn’t above dating, had milled around in high school, experimenting with whoever he pleased but nothing would ever be able to compare to what he had for you. An inexplainable warmth that blossomed throughout his body, where delicate vines weaved around his heart and the most beautiful flowers had started to bloom. Where the more Tae learnt about you, the faster he was falling.

He’d never been a fan of the term ‘falling in love’ something a little too melodramatic for his tastes, the very thought of falling for another person less romantic than it had been painted out to be. Because if his life were to be art, then he never wanted it to be the soppy kind, where you know the end is never good and the characters of the play seemed to always live in impending doom. Where only one will come out on top and get what they want while the rest suffer.  

He’d learnt falling didn’t have to be bad, falling—where you’re cushioned by clouds crafted with passion to break the fall. Where kisses taste sweeter and bare skin on skin felt electrifying. Where your mind bubbles over with thoughts of that person until you can’t help the smile that threatens to tug at your lips, and you want to make sure they’re stood by your side. Because as long as you were near, then that’s all he needed.

Taehyung’s favourite type of falling is when you work up the courage to look into his eyes. Always shying away from eye-contact, always a little fidgety when you notice him looking at you for longer than deemed proper for just a friend. He liked your eyes because you’d always been expressive, ever so easy to read, and ever so pretty.

Your outer beauty had only ever been a bonus to Taehyung, and if he had to compare your beauty to any of his favourite things, then surely, he would compare you to a freshly bloomed flower.

✿ ✿ ✿

It was no secret to Taehyung that you hated your birthday.

You’d always seemed to withdraw yourself from everyone the week before the big day, and he’d asked once, why you held so much disdain towards it, and you’d simply shrugged. Telling him you never understood the hype and never felt the need to make it a big event out of it. You never minded celebrating your friends’ birthdays, always going to family parties with well-thought-out gifts and a little skip in your step, but never held the same when it came to you.

“What are you doing here?” you open the door wider when you see its only him, fingers fiddling with handle out of nervous habit— and he watches as you rock back and forth on your heels. Clearly not expecting his arrival, and he would have called, if he didn’t already know you were home.

It’s a little out of character for him to show up to your apartment unannounced, knowing you preferred when he told you at least a few hours in advance that he was coming over, or he wanted to take you out. And as much as you hated the niggling habit of overthinking, it had never put him off, simply moulding his life around your needs as if they were his own.

Because as long as you were happy, so was Taehyung. Another strange side effect of being in love with someone he supposes.

“Can you come with me?” his hands fall out the pockets of his coat, corners of his lips tugging up into a soft smile.

You blink up at him, eyebrows furrowing, “Like— right now?”

“Yeah” he nods, feeble guilt itching under his skin. Like an invisible rash that he couldn’t get rid of, irritable in a way he wants to pull his hair out.

His palm lays flat against your door, pushing it open wider to let himself in. You don’t seem all that worried as you close the door behind him as he slips his shoes off, coat slung over the arm of your couch before he’s making himself comfortable, running a hand through his windswept hair.

He turns to you, “Go get ready, I’ll wait here”

“Where are we going?” you call over your shoulder as you wander into your bedroom, uncaring as you leave the door open.

“My place” he bends forward, trying to catch sight of you as you scuttle around your room. Always fascinated by the way you move, often painfully unaware of your surroundings. Though he doesn’t mind all that much, tips of his fingers tingling each time his hands fall over your shoulders or holding you by the waist has he help guide you, your hand held in his, so you won’t get lost in a crowd, or simply just for the sake of holding you. Your skin like a magnet, drawing him closer whenever he was near, your very existence fascinating to him that he can never seem to get enough.

“Huh?” you pause in the doorway, head tilting, and Taehyung can’t help the smile that stretches onto his face, fondness blossoming around his heart, “Why didn’t you just call me over then?”

“I have a surprise for you” he waves you off, watching as you nod, hesitant, but a small part of his heart swells at the fact you trust him enough to play into his plan even if he can see you itching to ask a million other questions. Questions he would be more than happy to answer, though he doesn’t push. Simply lets you stew in your own thoughts, trusting that you’ll kept your faith in him, stepping forward if you truly needed anything.

“But why?” you throw another sweater over your shoulder, “What should I wear?”

Taehyung pushes himself up off the couch, wandering towards your bedroom—more than equipped in knowing your home, often acting like it was his own.

“Whatever you’re comfortable with, baby”

You flinch, not having expected him to be there when you had turned around, “What are we doing?”

“I told you it’s a surprise” he croons, picking up the clothes strewn across the floor.

He folds them into neat piles at the end of your bed— ready for you to put away later as you continue your search for something to wear. Knowing that if he weren’t to do it, they would be left blanketing your floor until you worked up the motivation to finally clean up. At least this way he’d gotten your least favourite part out of the way.

“But what if I’m overdressed, worse, what if I’m underdressed?” you turn back to look at him, fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt as Taehyung simply stares; never one to back away from prolonged eye-contact.

“Baby, I told you to wear whatever you’re comfortable with. We’re only going to my place, nowhere else if you don’t want to” he soothes, beckoning you over with a hand. And you follow, always so good for him.

You stand between his legs, looking down at Taehyung where he sits on the edge of your bed, “No matter what you wear, you’re pretty, yeah?”

Taking your hands into his own, fingers laced, Taehyung watches as your mouth opens at the gentle contact, closing abruptly when you can’t seem to find the right words to say. Mind whirring behind your eyes, and he worries he’d pushed you too far.

Hesitantly you nod, “Okay” you whisper, swallowing thickly as his thumb runs over the back of your hand.

“Well done” he squeezes your fingers before he’s nudging you back towards your closet.

He watches as you peek over your shoulder, not very subtle as you try and match what he’s wearing.

“How about we match today?” he suggests, watching the lingering anxiety leave your body as your shoulders deflate, eyes lighting up.

“Really?” you ask, grey sweatpants already held tightly in your hands and Taehyung smiles.

“Of course, baby”

✿ ✿ ✿

“Are your eyes still closed?” Taehyung asks, as he bends down, helping you slip your shoes off.

You hum, hands falling onto his shoulders to keep balance. And he suddenly becomes hyper aware of how close the two of you are, hands gentle as he holds onto your ankle, your warm skin under his fingertips electric as his heartrate picks up.

Your hands slide down his arms when he stands at full height, fingers loosely gripping onto his wrists as he pulls you further into his apartment; careful to tug you around the toys his dog had left strewn across the floor of the living room.

Your feet sink into Taehyung’s plush carpet, pitter patter of Yeontan running into the room at the sound of your giggles, warming Taehyung’s heart. Simple domesticity of the situation maybe something Taehyung had been craving; because when he had you like this, no semi high-end dining, no unobtainable expectations from the eyes of others. Simply you and him, where the world beyond his apartment meant nothing, because it didn’t matter where he was as long as he was with you.

“Here we go” Taehyung pulls his wrists from your hands, picking Tannie up, “Open your eyes, baby”

Taehyung watches as your eyes flutter open. You blink down at his coffee table, head tilting in confusion before you’re turning to him.

“What’s all this?” you ask, eyebrows furrowed.

It hadn’t been much, nothing like he would have truly planned if he didn’t know you had what could only be described as a weird hatred towards your birthday. He’d made sure to get your favourite cake, balloons taped to the walls, all those of your favourite colour—handpicked out of each pack. You eye the platter of sandwiches, and he has to hold onto Yeontan a little tighter as the dog spots whatever other of your favourite snacks he’s picked up that morning. All laid out in little bowls, where confetti had been scattered over the table like the petals of a rose.

“It’s your birthday” he urges, smile still tugging at his lips.

You nod, “I know that but, why—” you gesture to the cake, to the small giftbox, utterly overwhelmed by what you see, and Taehyung wonders briefly if he’d rocked your brain into overdrive.

“I thought we could celebrate together, I know you don’t really like your birthday, but I thought for once I’d do something for you, like you’ve done for me”

“You did all this, for me?”

And although this isn’t his best work, nice restaurant in the middle of the city ready to be called for a late reservation if you hadn’t liked what he’d prepared for you. Wallet tucked away in the pocket of his coat just in case he took you for a walk around the park where he would buy you all the treats your heart desired until your bellies were full, sleepy on the way home; and maybe he would offer to carry you.

“Of course” he nods, letting Yeontan hop onto the couch before he’s tugging you to sit at the coffee table. Knees pressed against one another as you sit adjacent to Taehyung.  

You peek into the cake box, “Shut up, you didn’t buy one of those really pretty lunchbox cakes” your look up at Taehyung, eyes wide and he only grins. You stare at it in awe, purple iced flowers climbing the sides of the cake, blooming in shades of lavender and violet in gradient. Where fondant leaves weaved through bunches of flowers like wild vines.

“This is for you” he pushes the wrapped box across the table towards you. Brown paper tied off with a pretty white ribbon—little white daisy pin stuck in the centre of the bow.

He watches as you shake it. Fingers delicate as you pull the ribbon apart, dropped in a small pile beside the box of your cake, and he only expects you plan to save it for later. Scraps of long forgotten art supplies hidden in the depths of your closet for when you really needed it. Always a little bit of a hoarder, though you like to blame it on sentiment.  

The tips of your fingers skim over the velvety box, a deep red with little golden stars embroidered into the fabric, “What is it?”

“Open it” his back falls against the couch, fingers thrumming across his thigh, anxious of your reaction.

You lift the lid of the box, bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

“It’s so pretty” you murmur, head lifting to meet Taehyung’s gaze.

You watch him lift his hand; matching ring sat snug on his finger. Your gaze flickers down towards the ring in the box, “They’re matching?”

“Yeah”

The corners of your lips tug up into a smile, “You’re cute” you giggle, gentle as you pull the ring out of the box, sliding it onto your finger, the same one Taehyung had his on.

“You think so?” he leans forwards, eyebrows raising in question, and he watches as you swallow thickly, “Come on, don’t be shy now” his smile is lazy, a little cocky and you can’t seem to help the heat that tickles your cheeks red.

He watches you debate whether to stay silent or not, “Yes” you breathe, tongue slipping past your lips to wet them.

“Yes what?” he urges, revelling in the way you fidget in your spot—fingers itching to pull you closer into him, moulding the two of you into one being until he doesn’t know where you end, and he starts.

“I think you’re cute”

“I think you’re cute too” he smiles, deft fingers tucking his hair behind his ear.

“You what?” you splutter, “That’s not funny, Tae”

“It wasn’t meant to be” you watch as he sits up straight, careful as he takes your hands into his own, “Why would you think I’d joke about that?”

His eyebrows crease as you let out a long sigh, “Because well, you’re—you’re you and I’m just me”

“There’s nothing wrong with you” he shakes his head.

“I’m not perfect like you, Tae” you try to pull your hands from his, no real force behind the gesture, fingers barely slipping from his grasp.

“I’m not perfect” he laughs, leaning forwards like he wanted to tell you a secret, “You are though”

You blink, “I’m not” he watches as tears glaze over your eyes.

“Come on, baby, why’re you crying” he coos, gentle as he pushes your hair out of your face.

“Because I really like you, and I feel stupid” you admit, one hand still held in Taehyung’s as the other comes to wipe your face of the tears that cascade down your cheeks.

“I really like you too” Taehyung stands, manoeuvring his way around the table, falling to his knees beside you.

“No—not that kind of like. I like like you” you cover your face with your hands.

“Hey” he calls, “listen to me”

You snivel, daring peek out from behind your hands, a new wave of fresh tears glazing your cheeks shiny as he smiles, always so soft, always so reassuring.

“I like like you too, my baby” he laughs, barely there, but the puff of breath deflates his chest, “Haven’t I made it obvious enough?”

You shake your head, “Now I feel really stupid” you cry.

“No no no” he shakes his head, cupping your cheeks, “I clearly didn’t realise either”

You hiccup, “I’m sorry”

“What for?” his eyes flit between your own.

You frown, “Crying”

“Don’t apologize for that” his eyebrows crease, fond smile pulling at the corners of his lips, “Can I kiss you?”

He watches as your eyes widen a fraction, “Yes”

His thumb brushes away a lone tear when you close your eyes, watching as a sliver of peace washes over your face. And he understands, of course he does. All the built-up tension, nights of wondering if your feelings were to ever be reciprocated, if this budding love was one sided, if it could be more than friendship—all that doubt had evaporated. Exasperated whispers of how this would never work out, suddenly silent, mind and heart free. Pure unadulterated love soaring the skies like a dove let out of a cage with no plan of ever returning, the feeling of freedom, the freedom to love you, too addicting.  

Taehyung feels you smile into the kiss as his lips press against your own. Ever so soft, neither of you rushing.

Your arms slink around his shoulders, pulling his body closer to you as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. Your lips part, gentle gasp dripping off your tongue, tacky and sweet as his hands skim down your body, pulling you in between his legs.

Albeit reluctant, Taehyung pulls away, chest heaving for air as his heart hammers against his ribcage. Your fingers skim over your bottom lip.

“One more” you whisper, hands falling from Taehyung’s shoulders to cup his cheeks like he had your own.

“Okay” he nods, hands still firmly holding onto your hips as you press your chests together, head tilting. Your thumb brushes over his jaw when your lips meet, both a little surer, a little more confident in yourselves, Taehyung teasing as his tongue prods the seam of your lips.

You grant him access, embarrassed whine following a moan as his tongue slips into your mouth—any qualms about you not sharing his feelings bubbling into a fizzy confidence.

“Does this mean you’ll say yes to being my girlfriend?” he smiles down at you, lips a little kiss swollen and shiny.

“If that’s okay with you” you nod, eyes falling onto the ring on his finger, your own glinting in the light of the setting sun that spills through the window.

Taehyung’s feelings for you were akin to a flower.

A flower that had been in the budding stage for years, love disguised as vibrance, hidden away from your eyes as to not scare you away, attracting you like a bee only hoping you’d be happy with that he had to offer. A flower that was now in bloom, because really what it was missing was you. Just wholly you who adores Taehyung as much as he does you. Two flowers blooming in the same flower field where your stems intertwine, growth from here on out together rather than alone. Because even if your petals were the same as the rest of the flowers that grew around you, what you had was special; something none of the other flowers had—each other.  

“Guess this means we have a reason to celebrate your birthday every year” he leans forward, soft kiss pressed to your forehead.

🌱 feedback is always appreciated <3 and thank you for reading!

permanent tag list: @m1sss1mp @supernoonanyc

[justforbooks]

The American No by Rupert Everett

Ideas pitched by the actor down the years that never got the green light are brilliantly recast here as wry short stories… and a script

Not so long ago, Rupert Everett was sitting outside Bar Italia in Frith Street in Soho when the conga line of Hare Krishnas that frequents this part of London appeared from around a corner, jingling their bells like “transcendental morris dancers”. In days gone by, Everett would sometimes recognise a face en route to nirvana: “club world crashes” of his acquaintance often repaired to the Krishnas’ cafeteria, the better, as he puts it, to swap their methamphetamine for cucumber raita. But on this afternoon, he saw no one familiar until, just as the line was about to disappear again, he suddenly caught sight of a producer he’d last seen at the London office of a Hollywood studio.

“Rupert!” exclaimed this man, tambourine in hand. And then: “Hare, hare, hare!” – words that could hardly have been more doleful in context. The fellow in question, a straight white guy of a certain age, had been fired by the studio and, at a complete loss as to what to do next, had duly taken his place in this apricot-tinged, dhoti-wearing human caravan, eager to help broadcast its message of peace, love and saag aloo. Briefly, the two of them talked of a script of Everett’s – it had been rejected by the same studio – and then the line moved off again, until it was only a “swaying smudge” heading towards Chinatown.

Everett’s account of this encounter appears at the beginning of his new book, and it’s full of kindness, even tenderness (“off he ran, backpack bouncing, tiny ankles in large trainers…”). At this point, you realise, his feeling for failure is a writerly gift, throwing a navy shadow over even his funniest and most scabrous lines, with the result that the reader may not know whether to laugh or to cry. But then, as anyone who has read his three memoirs will know, he’s hardly a stranger to disappointment, its cruelty as familiar to the actor and director by now as wig glue and first-night nerves.

He had the idea for his new book in the long moments after the Hare Krishnas passed by. Feeling somewhat on the scrapheap himself, it occurred to him that he might as well turn a few of the ideas he’d pitched down the years – ideas that never got the green light – into short stories. But what is an “American no”? The collection is named after a term, invented by a pal, for the emotionally evasive but nonetheless brutal way Hollywood types have with those who are in search of a commission. In the flesh, they love-bomb you, telling you how “psyched” they are. Once you’re safely elsewhere, however, you’ll never hear from them again – the American no. As titles go, it’s quite perfect. An uncanny bleakness rises from this book, one that brings to mind not only Scott Fitzgerald and Shirley Conran’s Lace, but also the empty, agonising feeling of having been ghosted by a guy you really liked.

It comprises seven stories and a script (the last of which, extraordinarily, is for a TV series based on Proust’s In Search of Lost Time). One has to do with a Paris funeral gone badly wrong, another with a Russian countess, a third with the deathbed confession of a woman who upped and left for India in the 1850s. But the crazed masterpiece of the collection is a long story – almost a novella – called Cuddles and Associates, about a group of struggling actors in 80s Hollywood and what they’ll do (anything!) to survive. If Netflix doesn’t turn it into six episodes, there’s no justice. Think Succession, only with agents and the threat of straight-to-video hanging over everything like LA smog.

In the end, though, I didn’t read The American No for these stories so much as for the bursts of pure Everett, revealed as he introduces each one. Here he is talking to John Schlesinger about what went on in a certain hotel room during the filming of Midnight Cowboy (“I was in heaven”); and here he is fighting for the rights to Graham Greene’s Travels With My Aunt (“each time I inquire of the hard-headed agent I get the same rebuff, while she distributes Greene’s work with abandon for interesting reinterpretations – I’m being polite – like Brighton Rock”).

My love for Everett’s books is hardly a secret. But still, let me say it again. He is a brilliant writer: opulently gossipy as few are these days, but also truthful, witty, wise and stoical. As soon as I have an opportunity, I’ll be quoting him on why older actors “always” overact, but for now, all I can say is that he’s wasted on those fools who turn him down for parts; who fail to return his calls or to read his scripts. If his talent is unwieldy, there’s also tons of it going spare.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[cowgurrrl]

Je te laisserai des mots

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Author’s note: just a tiny sweet thing to preface the wedding stuff coming soon :D

Summary: In which you and Joel realize forever doesn’t sound too bad [~800]

Warnings: brief mentions of hospital settings/sickness, June projects her hatred of mushrooms, fluff :-)

The first time Joel realizes he’s gonna marry you, it’s in the hospital. He’d considered it before, and you guys had discussed a future together. You’re not with someone for three years without thinking about what you want your life to look like. Still, Joel is very stubborn and needs things to slap him in the face before he can process them. Sarah’s roommate calling from the hospital with a severe case of the flu is that slap.

You answer the phone first even though it’s midnight and you’ve been working all day. Joel blinks awake when he hears you calming Sarah’s roommate down and sliding shoes on. “What hospital is she at?” He heard you ask, making him sit straight up in bed. He gave you a confused look, and you put a hand over his to comfort him until you could get off the phone. “Okay. Thank you, Taylor. We’ll be there soon. Alright. Bye.” You threw your phone down and turned on the bedside lamp, already jumping into action.

“What happened?” He asked, copying your movements.

“Remember how Sarah wasn’t feeling well?” You asked, and he nodded. “Taylor said she came home, and Sarah was pale and burning up, so she took her to the hospital. Apparently, she passed out on the way there, but she’s hooked up to an IV, and they’re taking care of her.”

“Fuck.”

“I know.” You agreed. Joel scrambled around for the insurance information, a blanket for Sarah because she’s constantly cold, and even grabbed an old stuffed animal from her bed. While he ran around, you tiptoed into Ellie’s room, told her what was happening, and reassured her you’d be back in the morning. She just nodded sleepily and rolled over after you kissed her forehead. You held Joel’s hand as he sped down the highway, internally panicking about his baby girl.

When you arrived at the hospital, Joel was a nervous wreck and could barely focus long enough to look at the nurse at the front station. You subtly guided him with a hand on his back and smiled at the young woman. “Hi. We’re looking for Sarah Miller. She was admitted about an hour ago.”

“What’s your relationship to her?” She asked, typing in some information you couldn’t see.

“We’re her parents.” You said, and she nodded before telling you where Sarah was. When you walked into her room, she immediately burst into tears. You made a sympathetic noise and wrapped her up in your arms without hesitation. Joel watched you rub her back and whisper little things to calm her down and knew at that exact moment he was gonna marry you. You comforted him, checked on Ellie, claimed Sarah as your own, and didn’t even pause at the door despite her being contagious like it was second nature.

Once Sarah was feeling better, he took the girls out for lunch while you were working and asked them what they would think if you guys got married. “Wait, are you serious?” Ellie asked, and he nodded, fighting a big smile.

“Would that be okay?”

“When would you propose? Have you looked at rings? What’s the plan?” Sarah asked, more than excited at the idea of you becoming a permanent part of their lives.

It was much quieter the first time you realized you were going to marry Joel. You were out to dinner with the girls and Joel and ordered your plate without reading the menu close enough. Your plate arrived with big sautéed mushrooms on top. Your smile faltered just a bit, but you wouldn’t send the dish back because you couldn’t read. You were a waitress for long enough to know better. But Joel knew how much you hated mushrooms and quickly switched food with you. He didn’t even look at you as he did; he just did it. You squeezed his hand under the table and went back to listening to Ellie’s story.

After that, more than ever, you started thinking about your future with him. You think about summers spent at the ranch; winters spent visiting New York, cooking dinner together, and even having more kids. You were never sure if you wanted to have kids, but Joel is such a great dad, and you’ve had so much fun parenting the girls with him. When Carolina had Victoria, you and Joel visited, and watching him interact with Elizabeth and Victoria made something deep within you ache. He was so gentle and sweet, and you couldn’t even lie to yourself about how hot he looked taking care of a newborn. Stupid caveman psychology.

So, for the first time, you realize you could marry Joel Miller. You could even have a baby with him. Maybe a few. You just didn’t know he was also thinking the same thing and would propose to you not even a month after that dinner.

But that's another story for another time.

[britany1997]

Okay okay so….what if Paul found hiiiis girl and maybe fishy was jealous now…..that would be funny

Paul and Fishy: No Other Fish In The Sea

JUST KIDDING I FINISHED IT TONIGHT

Happy to write this for you❤️ Hope you enjoy the next chapter in the Paul and Fishy saga:)

Comment to be added to this Taglist or to my main Taglist:)

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Fishy swam around his bowl in silence. He looked at the clock Paul had bought for him and set up across from his bowl.

A pang of worry struck Fishy as the clock flashed 2am.

He and Paul spent every night together. Some nights they’d talk for hours, about anything and everything, some nights they’d sit in silence while their favorite records played, some nights they visited the boardwalk, and once they even reenacted jaws together.

But regardless of what they we’re doing, they were always doing it together. Sure sometimes Paul was late coming back from feeding, or sometimes he’d spend time alone with his boyfriends. But usually by the time Midnight rolled around, Paul was sitting on his bed with Fishy’s bowl in his lap. He’d never been this late.

Fishy felt engulfed with fear by the thought that his friend might be in trouble.

His desperate state was relieved as Paul stumbled through the opening of his alcove into his room.

He flopped onto his bed dramatically, “Fishy, I think I’m in love,” Paul breathed dreamily.

Fishy fought the urge to roll his eyes, he’d heard that exact same statement fall from Paul’s lips time and time again.

Whoever he was obsessed with on Monday didn’t ever make it till Friday. Fishy couldn’t help but feel annoyed that he was brushed off for some late night snack.

“And i know you’re gonna say ‘oh I’ve heard that before,’ but listen Fishy, this is real. This girl? She’s my mate Fishy!” Paul explained.

Fishy’s eyes widened, Paul loved a good time, but he’d never had a serious relationship besides the boys.

But another mate? That was serious.

Fishy let out three bubbles in excitement for Paul, but the same tinge of fear still ran through him.

When Paul gave his heart to someone he gave his whole heart. Fishy couldn’t let this new girl hurt Paul, he may be small but Fishy was part piranha on his mom’s side.

Paul sighed and looked off dreamily, “I can’t wait for you to meet her bud, she’s…” he paused, shaking his head and smiling, “she’s amazing.”

Paul rambled on about his new mate until the sun rose. Usually Fishy was content to listen to him share every little detail of his night. But tonight felt…different. Paul’s attention was clearly somewhere else.

As Paul moved to hang from the ceiling and Fishy’s movements stilled as he drifted to sleep, he couldn’t rid himself of the gnawing feeling that things we’re going to change between the two of them. Fishy pushed the thought from his head before falling asleep.

Nights passed by and Fishy saw Paul less and less. He found himself watching the minutes on the clock tick away, hoping, praying Paul would come back to him.

Paul had begun to return to the cave later and later. Once, he’d even flown into his room just as the sun was rising, batting flames from his jacket.

After the tenth night, Fishy wasn’t nervous anymore. He was pissed. Paul had totally forgotten about him! Fishy was sure of it. And for what? Some girl? Sure she was his mate but so were the boys! Paul had always made time for Fishy before, what was the issue now???

Fishy could feel his heart about to burst into a million pieces. Did he even have a place with Paul anymore? Would Paul miss him if he left? Would he even notice? Fishy wasn’t sure.

As Fishy was spiraling into a pit of self-doubt, Dwayne walked into Paul’s alcove. Fishy’s eyes widened at the sight of the tall brunette vampire.

Dwayne’s head whipped around, “Paul?” He called.

When he was met with no response he huffed and began to grab Paul’s clothes from the floor of his room.

Mid-grab he felt Fishy’s gaze on him.

Dwayne cringed, “look if he’s not going to wash his clothes someone should.”

Fishy blinked.

Dwayne chuckled, “sorry Fishy, I don’t speak goldfish like Paul does, maybe there are some books you could recommend?” He joked.

Fishy was unamused.

Dwayne hummed, “he’s kinda been gone a lot lately huh?”

Fishy let out three bubbles.

Dwayne shrugged, “yeah he’s been spending his time with his new mate, kinda got on our nerves, we felt like we never saw him.”

Fishy blinked rapidly. Yes! Finally! Someone who understood!

Dwayne ran his hand through his hair, “I mentioned it to him a couple days back and he’s been a bit better, hanging around with us at the boardwalk more, even introduced us to the girl, she seems nice,” Dwayne rambled.

“He’s a sweet guy you know? Not the most observant though,” Dwayne laughed to himself, “but he cares about the people he loves, once he knew what was bothering us, he fixed it.”

Dwayne smiled to himself, “and how could I stay mad at that pretty face.”

Fishy stared at Dwayne in shock. That was all he had to do? Talk to Paul? Fishy was kicking himself wondering why he didn’t think of that.

Dwayne turned to the goldfish, “this was kinda cathartic,” he realized, “thanks for listening Fishy, I can see why Paul likes talking to you.” Dwayne said as he left with Paul’s dirty laundry.

‘No,’ Fishy thought, ‘thank you.’

Paul blew into his room as the clock flashed 5:37am “hey bud!” Paul exclaimed, popping the cap on the bottle of fish flakes and pouring them into Fishy’s bowl.

Fishy didn’t bat an eye as the flakes fell to the floor of his bowl, he was on a mission.

“What’s wrong bud?” Paul asked, noticing Fishy’s serious expression.

Fishy let out two bubbles and shook his fin.

“You wanna talk?” Paul sat facing Fishy’s bowl, “yeah bud of course we can talk, what’s up?”

Fishy blinked three times.

“You miss me?” Paul shook his head in disbelief, “what do you mean? I’m right here!”

Fishy stared at Paul blankly.

Paul sighed, “no you’re right, I know what you mean, the guys have been saying the same thing.”

Fishy blinked.

Paul nodded, “yeah, I’ve been so caught up with her, I’ve been completely neglecting you, I’m a bad friend.” He said matter-of-factly.

Fishy let out two bubbles.

Paul’s lips pulled into a half smile, “thanks bud, but I’ve been acting like a bad friend lately, and that’s not ok.”

He sighed, “I love my mate, I love all my mates, but I hope you know that no one could ever replace you,” Paul said earnestly.

Fishy’s heart leapt.

“You’re my best friend, I can’t talk to anyone like I talk to you. No one understands me like you do.” Paul shot Fishy a wide smile, “you’re the only fish for me Fishy, I love you bud.”

Fishy blinked back a heartfelt reply. Prompting Paul to reach forward and hug Fishy’s bowl.

“You wanna meet her bud?” Paul asked.

Fishy blinked enthusiastically.

“It’d make me happy too,” Paul assured him, “she deserves to meet all the important people…or um…friends in my life.”

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Taglist❤️:

@mickkmaiden333 @bloodywickedvamp @pixielostboy @ghoulgeousimmaculate @misslavenderlady @solobagginses @6lostgirl6 @anna1306 @altierirose @its-freaking-bats @henhouse-horrors @dwaynesbiboyfriend @xxryn @paperbackfangs

[shion-yu]

Day 30: From the brink of death

Part 7 of the Cliff coma saga for @medwhumpmay. Parts 1-6 here: Fever | Flatline | Coma | Coma (#2) | Not breathing | Extended hospital stay. Final part tomorrow for day 31!

It took Elliot less than half an hour to get to the hospital. He scared the crap out of Ryo and Alex by stumbling into the living room and shouting, “I need clothes!” He was just barely able to form an understandable explanation, but they got him dressed and into a car in no time after that.

Elliot felt sick, although he wasn’t sure if it was anxiety or shock or the hangover. Probably all of the above. Ryo had shoved a bottle of ibuprofen at him on the way out, which he took and chugged with a whole bottle of water on the way to the hospital. He knew the way up to Cliff’s room in his sleep by now and practically ran there. It was almost underwhelming when he entered a silent room, Cliff still lying there motionless and hooked to the vent. For a second Elliot had the terrible fear that Cliff’s father had simply called to torture him.

But Claude appeared a minute later behind him and explained Cliff had been breathing on his own and starting to buck at the vent. They had weaned sedation down and they were waiting for Cliff to wake up and prove he could breathe on his own, awake, before removing it. If Elliot looked like shit, Claude didn’t say anything about it.

Somehow, waiting that day felt longer than the past month combined. There was so much anticipation and fear. By evening Cliff was fully breathing on his own, but they were still waiting for him to open his eyes. Elliot feared it wouldn’t happen - that it was false hope - until he watched Cliff struggle and his eyes flutter open. He’d never been so relieved to see those eyes before, and that was saying something.

“Cliff,” Elliot burst into tears. He could almost imagine Cliff’s awkward expression he would normally make at the sight of such displays of emotion in public.

It wasn’t a calm awakening. Cliff struggled against the vent, the tube down his throat uncomfortable and terrifying. The only thing that calmed him down was Elliot holding his hand and speaking to him softly. “Just wait a few more hours and they’ll take it out, baby,” he said softly. They weren’t taking any chances going too fast. But eventually, well after midnight and at the time Elliot had been downing shots of tequila last night, they removed the tube.

Cliff was weaker than a baby from so much time in bed, but he managed to twitch his fingers and toes when asked to. He could follow a light with his eyes, and managed to croak out the faintest resemblance of his name for the doctor. Apparently, all very good signs because the doctor seemed satisfied and nodded in approval.

Elliot felt like he was still in a dream. That or still drunk. Everything was overwhelming and he found himself shaking until Moira showed up. She hugged him tightly and Elliot had no choice but to let her take over, because he had no energy left. He melted into her arms and sank to the floor in the hall where she led him so that they wouldn’t disturb Cliff too much. “I thought he was going to die,” he sobbed.

“You’ve done so well,” she said. Her voice was impossibly tender and motherly. “He’s awake now, Elliot. You can rest. You deserve it.”

[emyn-arnens]

Thank you!!! I’d love to read it!!! I’d you don’t mind sharing of course😊

All right! For some background, this scene takes place on Midsummer's Day, directly after the wedding of Aragorn and Arwen. Because Éowyn doesn't have a relationship with Faramir in this AU (RIP) and therefore doesn't rapidly recover from her despair, I've chosen to have her stay in Minas Tirith after Éomer leaves for Rohan in early May so that the healers can keep an eye on her, since she's not fully recovered yet. Here you go!

He leaned his forearms against the battlement and stared across the many leagues of the Pelennor. His voice was distant as he began: “It was a Midsummer such as this, warm with the flush of summer’s flourishing, and we had begun to celebrate Tarnin Austa, the Gates of Summer. We began at midnight with a ceremony that bade us remain silent until daybreak arrived, when every voice in the city would burst into the ancient songs of our people. “But on that day, as we looked to the mountains in the east in celebratory expectation, we were greeted not by the sun’s rays, but by flames spilling from the northern mountains. The very slopes seemed ablaze with the flames of the enemy.” As he spoke, the last light of the sun fell behind the peaks of a southern spur of the White Mountains in a red blaze, and the shadows around them lengthened. “The sun did not rise that day,” he continued. “Ere long, the smoke and fumes of the enemy choked the city’s fair walls, and the servants of the enemy fell upon the city: orcs, wolves, balrogs, and dragons.

“We knew it not then, but we had been betrayed. Maeglin, sister-son of the king, had been captured by the enemy and promised a boon for delivering the city to the enemy. Maeglin had long coveted Idril Celebrindal, daughter of the king and wife of Tuor, Lord of the House of the Wing; and Morgoth, the Great Enemy, promised to make Maeglin king of Gondolin and husband of Idril, if he would reveal to Morgoth how to enter the hidden city." Éowyn stilled. This tale felt uncomfortably familiar, though it had happened centuries ago and to a people unknown to her. A chill ran through her, despite the warmth of the evening. She imagined a city grander and fairer even than the one she now stood in, its beauty tainted by lurking steps and lingering glances that she could feel upon her skin like grasping hands. She curled her fingers into the stone of the battlement and turned her mind to Glorfindel’s voice, banishing her dark thoughts. “When the flames fell upon us, we were ill-prepared, isolated and without allies to call upon. Only Idril, daughter of the king, had had the foresight to devise a method of escape from the city: a hidden passage deep beneath its foundation.  "But even such preparation failed to staunch the carnage that the forces of the enemy wreaked upon the city. The king and his house were slain when dragons beset the Tower of the King and crushed the king and his house beneath the tower, and many of the lords of the houses fell in defense of the city.” He fell silent for a moment. “Their deeds were deeds of great valor, but I remember them only as beloved friends, not the warriors of songs and tales that they are now remembered as upon these shores.” “Did all of your friends perish that day?” Grief was a familiar companion to the House of Eorl, but Éowyn could scarcely imagine losing everyone she loved all at once, in a single strike. Her hand nearly crept to his, but she caught herself. “No, but of the Twelve Houses of Gondolin, only I, Egalmoth, and Galdor remained of the lords. I guarded the rear of the exiles as they fled the city through the hidden passage, but we were pursued by a balrog. I fought it upon the cliffs, but even as I slew the beast, it fell over the cliff and caught me with it, and I fell upon the rocks far below.” “And you yet lived?” Éowyn asked in amazement, looking upon him with renewed wonder. “Surely your wounds must have been great indeed!” “No, my lady. I died that day.” Éowyn peered up at him in wonder and disbelief. His words were beyond comprehension. “Then how can you stand here now, hale and whole? I have heard of the immortality of Elves, but this is surely—” Something unreadable—Éowyn thought it was amusement, but surely not—flickered across his face. “I died; it is true, and my body lies still entombed upon the rocks where it fell, though the waters of the Sea now cover the cairn. But my spirit fled to the Halls of Waiting, as do all of the spirits of the Eldar upon death. And there I waited and healed, until I was re-embodied and returned to the Blessed Realm in the West, where I dwelt for many years.” “How come you here—to Middle-earth?” she asked in astonishment. “I was sent back, charged to aid Elves and Men in their efforts against Sauron.”

[spiritwarriorssonic]

Reaching Out

A little story about how Amiri met Kyti and Pyrita!

The silvery mauve fox pulled the hood of her gray winter coat up over her head. The straps of her backpack slipped off her shoulders, and she kept shrugging them back up.

Keep your head down. Keep it down and they won't see you. That was the way she lived. The taunts she knew all too well bounced around the walls of her mind. Nobody wants you coming back, Boomerang! Quit coming back! I bet it's because she's some flop!

Yes, immature, but Boomerang was a nickname she despised. She had been brought home by ten different couples in the past year for a trial week, only to be brought back. The other girls at the girls' orphanage called her Boomerang because she kept coming back to hit the place in the back of the head, like an unwanted boomerang in a try-not-to-laugh video.

That's what they told her, anyway.

She kept her head down, the snow sliding down her boots and chilling her feet.

Suddenly there was snow in her fur and sliding down the back of her coat.

Amiri was docile by nature, but she would retaliate when attacked, especially with snow. She had fire and ice powers, preventing burns and frostbite, but it also meant that hot and cold temperatures were torture to the other half of her.

"Hey," she shouted in the direction of the snowball, receiving another one to the face, making her yelp. Laughter rang through the air, piercing through the veil in her mind. She whirled and ran.

Her feet sank ankle-deep in the snow, but these girls were older. It was a girls' academy, meaning that these were probably the middle or high schoolers. They had longer legs and closed the gap quickly.

She found herself in a circle, bounced back to the center whenever she tried to dart out. The taunts tore into what little there was of her confidence, and she wanted to drop down and cry. But not here.

Her feet scrambled for purchase on the icy ground, but she didn't find it. She crashed to the ground. A brief flare of pain in her knees, going almost unnoticed. Her ears were drooping as one of the girls shoved her face into the snow, laughing.

A quick burst of light, which could only be described as a laser, followed by a blast of blue flame, whisked past the girls' heads, making them shriek.

Amiri looked up, seeing a young golden cheetah with midnight black specks like scraps of the night sky and piercing green eyes next to a blue-eyed silver cat with a lithe form and grace in her stance. The cat looked like a dancer. Their eyes met with her gray ones, making her drop her eyes to the snow.

The cheetah marched up, only the size of Amiri herself. "Pick on someone your own size," the girl snapped. The older girls laughed until the cheetah marched up to the biggest one and kicked her in the shin.

"You little..." the girl raised her fist. Amiri squeaked, it was going to come down on the other girl. The cheetah's green eyes closed, but the silver cat seemed to materialize out of nowhere and caught the fist. Her blue eyes seemed to see right through the older girl's. Amiri could see that the cat was about her size too.

The older girls just pushed the cat down, and the biggest one shrugged and told the others "Boomerang's not worth it, guys," and then turned to the two smaller girls and snapped "You want her, then take her!"

Amiri was yanked to her feet by the hood of her jacket and thrust into the other girls' arms. They caught her. She was too shaken to do anything and just nestled into their warm embrace as the older girls tramped away, laughing as though this was their perfect idea of fun.

"You good," the cheetah questioned. "My name's Kyti, and that's Pyrita," she continued, nodding to the silver cat. Pyrita didn't say anything, but she was observing Amiri's knees. When the fox looked down, she noticed blood seeping through her leggings. Kyti followed her gaze and whistled, wincing on the fox's behalf.

Everything after that faded into a blur, but Amiri heard Kyti suggesting that they get home, and her nodding. It turned out they all stayed in the same orphanage.

Amiri didn't understand why these girls liked her. There had to be something wrong with her to be sent away so often... and she was only eight, too. She must've said that aloud, because Kyti responded with an odd look and the report that she and Pyrita were the same age as her.

Amiri picked up one thing that pierced through everything and shone through the shadows of loneliness in her mind.

These girls reached out.

Who knew reaching out could do so much for someone?

Besides, the fact that Kyti and Pyrita reached out meant that maybe there was something to like about her.

[a-wayfairing-stranger]

Surprises.

Gonna be real this was originally meant to be smut but then it sort of took on a life its own and became just tooth rotting fluff so enjoy!

Taglist (Ask if you’d like to be added) @auxiliarydetective

Leta Middenlocke was many things, a liar, a cheat, a murderer and a soldier, but she never considered herself a fool, until this very moment.

They were on a moon, a small village named Kinsgard to be exact, and she had spent her wages on a dress, an actual dress and for what? To stand awkwardly in the room Ibram had been granted by the mayor of said town as a thank you for saving it from total annihilation? She examined herself in the mirror, the dress was pretty, a lovely shade of maroon that had a sweetheart neckline and reached her knees, once upon a time it would have suited her a lot more than it did now, a shaved head, bruised legs and guard issue combat boots were not this summers sought after accessories. 

Ibram would laugh at her no doubt, speaking of which where was the grumpy bastard? It was almost midnight and meetings never ran this late. 

She heard the beep of a keypad, speak of the devil and he shall always appear, and so he did, walking through the door backlit by the hallway lights, she’d know his silhouette anywhere, the cap, the coat, she’d committed it to memory.

“There you are.”

“Sorry I’m late darling..I ran into Corbec outside the pub on the way back, he and the boys were having a celebratory drink..”

 He turned and hung up his cap, then removed his coat

“And one drink became two and then two became three..” He chuckled “You know how Colm can be.”

“Aye I do.” She replied with a smile “When someone else is paying.” 

“On the house, us being heroes and all..” He turned to face her, a smile on his flushed face. “Whats this?”

“A surprise..” She twirled in the dress, he’d never seen her in anything besides her uniform before, she’d even spent ages shaving her legs with a straight razor, somehow she didn’t cut herself, a miracle. “Do you like it?” 

“Wh-Where’d you get it?”

“Bought it, with my wages..Had some saved up, since..well I don’t exactly need to buy much..” 

He was staring at her, she felt self conscious, she was right, she looked stupid, her days of dress wearing were far behind her.

“Silly really…I mean…when am I gonna wear it?” She shrugged, feeling like a burst balloon “Just..I guess…Forget it.” 

“Hey..” he walked across the room to her and put a hand under her chin “You look beautiful.” 

“You always say that.”

“Because its true.”

“I guess I just..I wanted to remind you that I’m a woman..”

“I know that, Princess.”

“Do you? Because I forget sometimes..” 

She ran her hands along the skirt of her dress, it was soft, she’d forgotten what soft clothes felt like.

“I’m just Middenlocke..”

“No, your Leta.” 

“Only you ever call me it, and even then only when no one else is around.”

“You’re Leta Victoria Middenlocke..” 

Her name had never sounded so perfect as it did coming from his mouth.

“All though, I do hope you’ll become Leta Victoria Gaunt..”

Her eyes widened, her eyebrows very almost reached her hairline.

“What?”

“I took so long out because I was getting something..”

He walked back to his coat, and when he returned he had small box in his palm

“And I had a whole plan about how I was going to suggest we take a walk and then I was going to propose under the moonlight..” He laughed, a rare sound coming from him “And then Colm went and buggered it all up by getting me drunk.” 

The ring was a gold band, simple, the only adornment was the Imperial Eagle etched into the center, Leta’s heart felt she had just survived a near death experience, she was used to that feeling, she’d had a lot of them. 

“But..How?” She asked “You…us…”

She knew from the moment she’d first kissed him, all those nights under the stars that they could never be anything official, no grand wedding, no children, no growing old together and planting tulips in a garden, that just wasn’t possible, Too many rules, too many differences between them.

She was the lowly penal legionnaire, he was the Colonel-Commissar, it just didn’t happen, not on this side of infinity.

“Ibram..I can’t be your wife.”

“Who says?”

“Literally everyone, love.” She scoffed “It would be career suicide for you and quite possibly actual suicide for me.” 

“It doesn’t have to be anything huge, I just..I want there to be a record of us somewhere…Some proof that..” He paused. “If either of us died, I’d want there to be evidence that this happened, That we loved each other.”

In all likelihood it was her who would die, that truth haunted every waking moment they spent together, a specter clawing at their happiness with ice cold claws, it would wait, a predator seeking its prey, as random as lightning striking the ground but it would come, they both knew this.

Leta Gaunt did have a ring to it.

“You have to ask me properly.”  

He smiled, and sank to one knee, Ibram Gaunt bowed to know one but the God Emperor, But he could make a exception in Leta’s case.

“Leta Victoria Middenlocke…would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”  

“Yes, Ibram, I would.”

He took the ring from the box and slid it on to her ring finger, it fit perfectly. 

He kissed her and then picked her up, he spun her around, the skirt of her dress spread around like the petals of a blooming flower and she laughed, for a moment, a fleeting moment they were just like any other newly engaged couple.

And by the Throne they would cling to this moment of happiness until the next one came along.

[whatthe4355]

Her own groove

Edaline had finally convinced the witch council of her worthiness for a familiar, and just in time for her sweet sixteen. Just a couple days ago she had celebrated her find Violet’s birthday and familiar appearance. Usually, it just sort of popped into existence, in a place of nature next to you. Violet got a very pretty raven with wings that shined rainbows that nested in the tree in her yard. It was quite a light show. Now here Violet was, alongside your other witch friends to try and see what familiar you got. It wasn’t often a transgirl got a familiar, much less one who used magic before she should have.

Ah, yes. Edaline was transgender, but that wasn’t the issue with her approval. No, the fact she burned a yacht with a party of billionaires on board was. The trans thing didn’t help her case, but other trans witches had managed just fine without one. Heck, even the other direction she knew of a transman who’s mouse familiar burst into flames when he started transitioning. And he still was rather powerful. No, a familiar was mainly a font of power and a status symbol. Very gender affirming for a trans witch.

And here she was, waiting for hers out in the woods behind a strip mall around midnight. Give it the best chance she could feasibly get. She watched the old clock one of her friends brought with them, ticking down, seconds away from midnight.

10

C’mon, C’mon

9

Please

8

“You got this Eda!”

7

6

Would she really get one?

5

Would she like it?

4

Would it like her?

3

She really, REALLY didn’t want a lizard

2

A bunny would be nice

1

Here it comes-

0Huh?

+1

There it was! She could feel it!

The back door of a shop in the strip mall slammed open, spilling light into the woods. A figure walked out, strutting towards Edaline. The figure wore tight jeans, black suspenders, a green flannel button down, a denim jacket, and a beige fedora. They had a well groomed beard with a mustache that curled at the ends. They glared down at Edaline, who glared back.

“Huh? Who are you?”

“Name’s Frank Malone kid, and you have ten seconds to tell me why the hell I’ve got magic.”

The crowd of girls gasped, and Edaline scowled, “You suddenly came into magic the second my sixteenth birthday started? Wait. How do you know you have magic?”

Frank held out his hands, which were glowing faintly. In fact, all his skin was glowing.

“This answer your question twerp? Now why the hell am I magical?”

Edaline looked him over, and felt in her heart. She was connected to this woman alright. Wait. Shouldn’t that be man? Edaline put that aside and answered, “I’m a witch and I think you might be my familiar.”

“Edaline, this is impossible. No one’s had a human familiar in a decade!” cried Violet.

“A man comes out of a strip mall literally glowing the instant it’s my birthday. I’d say that’s grounds for a familiar awakening. It’s happened with family pets y’know.”

“I am no ones pet! This has gotta be some kind of cruel joke, what did you kids do?!”

“I couldn’t do anything Mr. Malone! My magic’s been suspended until I got a familiar, and now I have it back, see!” Edaline tried to demonstrate with a small flame on her pointer finger, only for it to burst out like a flamethrower, “That’s...new?”

“You sure as hell couldn’t do that before Eda, not even that arson fire spell was that big!”

Frank took a step back, aghast, “Arson?! You did Arson?! Your a teenager! What the fuck!”

He ran back to his store, and locked the door. Edaline sighed.

“You should call your dads.”

“Ah, yeah,” Edaline called her fathers, who were delighted to here she had a familiar and then horrified to learn who it was. She ended the call saying she’d head home after getting Frank’s phone number.

She politely knocked on the back door, “Mr. Malone? I want to stay in contact, we need to be near each other for my magic to work. Can I get your phone number?”

“Vinyl or CD?”

“Huh?”

“Do you have a record player or CD player?

“...I just use my phone and an adfree youtube fork…”

Frank sighed, and a piece of paper with a hastily scribbled url and his phone number was slid under the door, “Listen to that album playlist, then text me kid. Maybe I’ll help you, maybe I won’t.”

“Fine!”

Edaline hated to admit it, but the man had decent taste. A lot of good Japanese jazz and citypop, reminding her of her Pop’s taste in music. Papa on the other hand was neck deep in ska, and skanking as he drowned. She broached the topic of music with her pops, asking if he had suggestions for Frank, to coax him here from his record store. Her pops simply smiled, and opened a bookcase door to a room filled with truly ancient vinyl records, a record player from the sixties, and a pair of gigantic headphones.

“I had a thing for Harlem jazz, and this is where I like to escape from your papa’s ska. If Franks your familiar, he’s welcome to try some of this. I guess he’s family now. Kinda like you got a deadbeat older brother.”

Edaline’s breath hitched, remembering the weird feelings Frank put off over their link.

“Older sister maybe?”

“What are you, a mind reader Pops? But, yeah somethings off about Frank and his gender, even without the psychic stuff everytime I see him I can’t help thinking that he has one helluva denial beard. That, and he insists I call him record master or RM.”

Her pops chuckled, and sifted through his records, pulling out a sizable stack, “Tell him there’s original recordings of some great Jazz sessions, but he has to come here to listen to it.”

Edaline hugged her father and yelled as she ran out of the house, “Thanks Pops! Be right back!”

Edaline smiled as she entered the empty store, and Frank glared back. Edaline liked to joke she was RM’s least favorite regular, over the two weeks she’d been connected to him. She looked through the rock and punk rock, picking out an even gayer queen disco cover band record and some punks called Dead Kennedys on a beat up cassette tape.

She went up to the counter, and chatted RM up.

“Hey, my pops told me to tell you we have some original Jazz sessions on vinyl, like old old vinyl, and if you want to hear your welcome to come over.”

The ‘record master’ sighed, “Can I ask you a favor?”

“Yeah?”

“I need to crash on your parents couch. My landlord kicked me out a month ago and I’ve been sleeping here on a hammock in the back.”

“I...jeez RM you should have said so sooner. That explains the smell. We have a guest room you can crash in. Oh shoot, I should put these back I forgot my wallet-”

“Keep em, that’s one of the Dead Kennedy’s most popular albums and I have a crate of bootlegs like that record in the back. So. Much. Disco.”

Edaline nodded, speaking as Frank closed up and grabbed a duffel bag, “I dunno, disco’s fun and have you heard the duet of Barbera Strisand and Donna Summer on No More Tears? Or sat down and listen to I Will Survive? The 12 inch cut of it is amazing.”

RM blinked at her like she grew a third head as he locked up the store and directed her towards the beat up AMC Gremlin he had. She got in and he spoke up.

“I...no I haven’t. It’s funny, there’s an 8 track of Donna Summer stuck in the stereo but I’ve never tried to play it. I mean…,” RM paused, making sure he was clear to turn right on red, “...I always associated disco with LGBT stuff and feminism. I never thought to give it a shot, I just thought it was a joke?”

“Oh, your in for a treat,” Edaline said as she willed her magic to start up the 8 track. The end of one track faded, and the opening piano bars of No More Tears started up.

Edaline could tell RM was going to be a partly changed person after that car ride, so she texted her Pops to pull out some disco sung by women to add to the preselected Jazz. Her father sent back a gif of that gopher thing with Dun Dunn Duunnnnn on it. Edaline smiled in eager anticipation. Meanwhile, she looked at RM. He had finally shaved, leaving just a thin curled mustache. He finally started to embrace the prismatic white glow, with some matching makeup on his bare cheeks and flashier clothes. He kinda looked like...oh no. Edaline realized...RM looked like a disco ball. She could NOT tell him that after the disco revelation. Who knows what it would to RM’s psyche?

RM pulled into the driveway, pulling hard on the parking brake. He got out, grabbed his duffel from the backseat, and headed to the front door.

“You aren’t gonna lock it?”

“Lock’s busted kiddo, and I don’t have much of value.”

“Fair enough!”

Edaline’s fathers opened the door, and they made quite a picture. A short but broad black man with well groomed dreadlocks in a sleek and shiny purple tunic top over white bell bottoms; stood next to a skinny beanpole of an Italian American man, wild jet black hair covered by a red beret and his partly unzipped green jumpsuit covered the rest. Someone once called him white gay Che Guevara, and Edaline hated to say it fit with papa’s politics and image.

“So, your ‘Record Master’ huh? I’m Theodore, this is my husband Giovanni. Welcome to our home. Giovanni darling, could you take his bag to the guest room and get him some fresh clothes and a shower. No funny business.”

To say RM jumped when Giovanni spoke back would be an overstatement.

“Well now, let’s get you comfortable hot stuff! Come this way love, hop to it,” Giovanni said in a pitch more suited for canine ears than human. That was the other reason called him gay Che Guevara. Papa loved playing into the stereotype, and screwing with people.

RM nodded, and Papa practically strutted up the townhouse staircase. Edaline could feel some very confused noises over the magical link, and she smirked.

“So Pops, how was inducing psychic damage to our guest. I mean seriously? A disco costume?”

“I never got to wear the bell bottoms back in the day, so I’m making up for lost time.”

“Fair enough pops, have you got the record set up?”

Pops nodded and Edaline sat down on the living room couch. It was going to a while before RM emerged from the music lair.

Frank hated to say it, but this disco stuff was getting to him. Jazz was great, he loved strong and deep voiced female singers and disco was chock full of women like that. Citypop was his introduction to more jazzy titles, but what Theodore had provided him blew his mind. He had no clue who half these women on the records were, but after he got over his hang ups about the stack style player (“No, It does not put much force or damage to the records! It’s calibrated to 2 grams exactly and there’s felt washers if your so worried” had been Theodore’s irritated warning.) Frank was having a blast. He felt regret not looking into the Harlem renaissance, Ella Fitzgerald’s voice was a delight paired with blues tinted trumpets. He had expected his reaction to this first stack, and after he carefully put the records back in their reproduction sleeves, he set up the disco stack and put on his headphones.

Whatever Harlem Jazz did to him, disco did more. His body was no longer content to just sit around and tap a finger along, it danced and swayed and jived.

Hell, he even sang along! When was the last time he did that?! He was in ecstasy unlike any he had experienced before. Frank felt more alive now than in his nearly three decades of living.

What was happening?!

Edaline shot up like a bolt, her father’s eyes going wide.

“Y-you okay there Eda?”

“Holy fuck there's so much magical energy coming over the link. Y’know how much I borrowed for the arson? This is like, a hundred times that! I could level a city! Holy fuck! It’s too much!”

“I uh, how would be a healthy way to dispell it?”

“I have several ideas pops. Several.”

“Are any of them crime based?”

“Surprisingly, no!”

“Alright, go ahead then Eda.”

“I think I have just the thing.”

First, she shot a magical disco ball into existence, and it phased through the ceiling, growing. She rubbed her hands together, and directed a blast of rainbow colored notes and bars towards the bookshelf door. She shot another that way, a prismatic beam that hung in the air off her fingertips, and then carefully navigated to the backdoor, and shot another to the giant disco ball. Eda put her hands together, and the beams connected growing taut. Musical notes along bars traced along the connection, and Edaline smirked.

Violet’s raven started squawking and she cracked her window open only to be hit with an upbeat disco song. Her foot start tapping along, out of her control.

Her mom cracked the door open, the motions following the beat.

“Hey, can you hear disco music? Or am I having a stroke?”

“No, I can hear it too and I’m not even playing it. Oh. Oh goddess look!”

Violet pointed out to the street behind her backyard where cars had stopped and people had gotten out to start grooving along. Some in roller skates.

“What on earth?”

“I...I think its…Disco Fever”

Theodore was dancing to the beat, and very confused how he could move so well with his arthritis.

“Honey? What on earth did you just do?”

“Disco Fever. It’ll last about 4-8 hours and lets people take breaks. Usually it takes a 4 story nightclub packed wall to wall full of witches. But Fr-”

The bookcase slammed open, and out skated what presumably used to be Frank. In his place was a woman in tight shiny magenta bell bottoms, a modestly filled matching top that defied physics, curly long brown hair with pink streaks, and roller skates. Her olive skin was covered in moving lights like a disco ball.

“I...feel...so….Alive! Woo! Wow! That’s some great stuff! ...Wait. Why is the music still playing? The record’s stopped. And why are my pants so…what in the hell? Are those...oh my god their real. What...happened?”

Edaline smirked as she danced, “You produced enough magic to rival a four story nightclub full of drunk witches. Enough to level a city, but I redirected it. I’m not sure what happened with your body but look outside. You want me to call you something else?”

Frank’s mouth moved on its own before slamming a hand over it, “Rosemary-”

Theodore laughed and swung Giovanni around. Theodore was dressed appropriately, but Giovanni was now in tight red bell bottoms and a nearly translucent tank top. Edaline was in a shiny calf length flowing skirt with a flared sleeve top, both a goldenrod yellow that complemented her brown skin.

Rosemary’s mouth gaped before it settled into a confident smile. She grooved along to the beat, some how dancing better in roller skates than any other time she had before in normal shoes. So she was a woman. Fuck it. Might as well have fun. Who needs to a be a sourpuss and yell at people? Rosemary was just grooving to her own beat now. And maybe that’s all she needed in the first place.

At the age of 16 all witches are assigned a familiar. You are excited for yours as you see your friends turn 16 and get theirs. Cats, Crows, spiders. You are devastated to find out that out your 16th birthday, your familiar is a 27 year old hipster named Frank.

[hrtvampires]

I called you after midnight

Then ran until my heart burst

I passed the howling woman

And stood outside your door

[rainbowfic]

Today's Prompt List is: Electric Purple

Theme: Music 1. It's my own design / It's my own remorse / Help me to decide / Help make the most / Of freedom and of pleasure - Tears For Fears: Everybody Wants To Rule The World

2. As far as I can see / Only pin-up posters / Looking down at me / Watching paper cups of coffee / Growing cold before my eyes - a-ha: The Blue Sky

3. If I were kind and adoring / How would that be? / Very boring - Adam Ant: Desperate But Not Serious

4. Mama says truth is all that matters / Lying and deceiving is a sin / Drifting through a world that's torn and tattered / Every thought I have don't mean a thing - Bryan Ferry: Don't Stop The Dance

5. We talked and smoked all through the night / You led me where I had no sight / Till birdsong broke the morning light / And I was weak with strange delight - Big Country: The Teacher

6. It could be the atmosphere sinking / I don't even know what you're thinking / I don't even know what you're drinking but it keeps this heaven alive - Duran Duran: Last Chance on the Stairway

7. Of all things the thing that I want most / To catch you at the point / Where you don't have a clue - Eight Seconds: Kiss You When It's Dangerous

8. Your optimistic eyes / Seem like paradise / To someone like me / I want to take you/In my arms / Forgetting all I couldn't do today - Depeche Mode: Black Celebration

9. Architects of the world / I walk your streets and / live in your towns / Temporarily / Architects of the world / You've served us well until now / But soon we'll be on our own - Spoons: Nova Heart

10. But there's no sense in telling me / The wisdom of the fool won't set you free. - New Order: Bizarre Love Triangle

11. And here in you / My engines die / I'm in a mood for you / Or running away / Stars come down in you /A nd love - you can't give it away - The Psychedelic Furs: The Ghost in You

12. Your former glories and all the stories / Dragged and washed with eager hands / But ohh oh your city lies in dust, my friend - Siouxsie & The Banshees: Cities in Dust

13. Funny how I find myself / In love with you / If I could buy my reasoning / I'd pay to lose / One half won't do - Talk Talk: It's My Life

14. Hurt by envy, cut by greed / Face to face with their own disillusion / The scars of old romances still on their cheeks / And when blow by blow the passion dies sweet little death - Propaganda: Duel

15. Too many shadows, whispering voices / Faces on posters, too many choices / If, when, why, what? / How much have you got? - The Petshop Boys: West End Girls

16. I have stood here before inside the pouring rain / With the world turning circles running 'round my brain / I guess I'm always hoping that you'll end this reign / But it's my destiny to be the king of pain - The Police: King of Pain

17. I called you after midnight / Then ran until I burst / I passed the howling woman / And stood outside your door - The Cure: The Walk

18. Reaching into the heart of the darkness / For the tenderness within / Stumblin' into the lights of the city / And then back in the shadows again / Hanging onto the laughter / That each of us hid our unhappiness in - Jackson Browne: That Girl Could Sing

19. I find myself on canvas / I find myself on stage / Can you see me / Are you near me / And I long to know you're real / And I long for you to be part of me - The Ocean Blue: Between Something And Nothing

20. Making the madness / And solitary sadness / A friendly fool / I thought of stories / They told us long ago / Of how the world was a perfume garden - The Chameleons: Perfume Garden

Did you use all the prompts? Rock on! You can have a banner!

[fox-mulders-ties]

In a bizarre suicide attempt, some guy in a military psych hospital takes advantage of a little tub which boils water faster than a nuclear reaction would (and should never have passed OH&S standards) by channeling his inner lobster.  Apparently this isn’t a normal thing to do and Mulder and Scully arrive to investigate.  Mulder has his Drycleaner’s Delight tie on and Scully makes sure he’s wearing his Visitor badge because it’s a lot of work getting him released from psychiatric facilities each time he loses it.  

Mulder and Scully exchange little notes as they talk to lobster man in another very hazy room before they’re called out to the hallway to talk with a uniformed Captain woman and Mulder demonstrates his variety of you-can’t-be-serious faces.  In fact Mulder’s face is unnaturally expressive in this episode.  He gets turned on when Scully speaks Military and happily watches her get bossy with the military types.

They go see the General and he accuses them of gross misconduct.  Mulder is amused by the General’s idea of what gross misconduct is and he’s soooooooo tempted to show the General just how gross his misconduct can get.  They both get a bit tetchy with the General and his lack of information sharing before having a staring match and leaving.

They go to see the lobster bath for themselves.  If that thing’s supposed to be a hydrotherapy bath of some sort, it’s the worst designed hydrotherapy bath in existence.  To be physically capable of getting in or out of it you’d have to be in good physical condition. Then it would also restrict movement, kind of making hydrotherapy impossible.  And you’d think it would have some kind of temperature cut off so as not to accidentally cook people.    

The General orders the Captain to go home and relax but instead she goes for a swim and is drowned by a shadow. Scully’s even more pissed at the General.  Mulder joins them in his Irresistible tie, which has a weird kink in it, much like Mulder himself, and it makes you forget about the General and the drowning as you wonder how on earth that kink got there. Is the tie so irresistible that Mulder or Scully couldn’t resist sucking on it?  Or did it get caught in the door in a session of autoerotic asphyxiation?  After the general admits he saw something and he got spooky answering machine messages they go to his house, where a kid already got freaked out about someone in the house.  Mulder ironed the kink out of his tie on the way so we could stop obsessing over it. They listen to the answering machine and look at he sandpit.  While Mulder’s back playing with the answering machine, Scully fetches him and they bust into someone’s house and arrest him.  Somewhere after this the little General’s kid is killed in the sand pit, but my mind’s drifted back to Mulder and his tie so it’s a bit unclear when that happened.

Mulder and Scully interview the arrestee  who blames some amputee dude in the hospital, but one look at the quadruple amputee and they assume he couldn’t have done anything.  Back at the interview room, the arrestee gets killed.  Scully finds him dead, then Mulder pulls out some little dental xray films he happens to carry around to somehow prove that amputee guy is astral travelling.  They close talk about it a bit and he presents the backwards answering machine messages as further evidence.  They visit amputee man and Mulder gets up close.  He’s so irresistible that the guy will confess anything just to keep him on his bed, despite his not getting the porn nurses and Scully-Fu demonstration that his agent told him were mandatory in amputee scenes.

Amputee man leaves bloody footprints on the general’s carpet before killing his wife.   He won’t pick up the phone so they rush to his house.  General takes a gun and tries to shoot himself but the amputee’s astral body won’t let him.  This makes him mad so he goes to the hospital and shoots the wall above the amputee guy instead. M&S go to amputee guy and he’s blinking so Mulder runs.  The General gets subjected to over enthusiastic steam and atmosphere until lobster man sneaks in and uses a pillow to suffocate amputee man until it stops.

As Mulder voices-over his report at the end, we get a slightly better glimpse of the Cosmic G-Spot tie and rejoice in the fact that we have Mulder and Scully to get us through episodes like this. Close talking in hallways is an essential ingredient in the X-Files that I really hope is embraced again in Season 11.