#I just want to make ten tags that are nothing but sad-face emojis

[duskdog]

I started responding via tags but it actually started to get even more unwieldy than usual. :D I think you're right that withholding the information is evidence that at least some part of Bruce intended for Steph's time as Robin to be limited. Maybe there were other benefits to it. Like, even if he got Tim back, having a back-up trained wouldn't be the most awful thing. Maybe he thought he could use her in other capacities, even if she wasn't Robin anymore. Maybe he still really did think she had potential (he did tell her that once upon a time) and thought he could shape her towards something more acceptable while he's working on getting Tim back. And I certainly don't believe that he ever intended for Steph, or anyone, to get (physically) hurt. But I keep coming back to thoughts of what Batman is. He's the ultimate detective. He's a polymath, probably the best (or at least one of the best) in the entire DC Universe. His entire schtick is knowledge. Everything he does is based on information and preparation. He knows -- more than anybody in the world -- how absolutely vital it is to know things. He regularly fights people far more powerful than he is, and relies entirely on knowledge in order to do so. He even prepares plans about how to take down his closest comrades and friends, should it become necessary. Knowledge is, quite literally, power. So I can't believe for an instant that he doesn't 100% know that he's crippling Steph by withholding vital information from her. He knows that the person in the room with the least information is at the biggest disadvantage, and he willingly and knowingly ensured that person would be Steph. Now, maybe he expected her to "earn" that knowledge sooner rather than later. That seems a little doubtful, since nothing in this issue really indicates that he has much faith in her. He doesn't even really defend her to Alfred. He defends his choice, but he doesn't defend Steph directly, nor does his defense inspire much confidence, really. Basically "yeah, I know I said she sucks, but she's really determined, so I can probably teach her how not to suck". It seems more like he has faith in his teaching skills rather than in her learning skills. Regardless of whether he thought she would "pass" soon or not, though, I think it's sort of a moot point, because it was never necessary for him to make that split between Robin and knowledge in the first place. As you've pointed out, it's weird -- even Catwoman recognizes this. So why do it at all? Was it really so urgent that he have a Robin in the field now? Why not just keep her training out of the field until he trusted her enough to earn both the knowledge and the right to join him in the field? Something that would have been safer and more logical for everyone involved? It's almost like he really, really wanted someone to see her out in the colors sooner rather than later. Hmmm.... And of course, it's convenient that leaving her with limited information also happens to be setting her up to fail. It makes "lack of skills and talent" into a self-fulfilling prophecy, because the lack of information is inevitably going to lead to situations where she makes the wrong assumptions or the wrong call because she's missing pieces of the puzzle that no one else is. It was only a matter of time before she failed enough for him to boot her, even if she toed the line well enough to never willingly disobey him. Withholding knowledge = maintaining power and control. This was... a lot of words to say that I agree with you, I guess, but gosh I have such feelings about it.

Stephanie Brown: The Girl Robin, The Doomed Robin

Stephanie Brown is fired as Robin in Robin #128 (1993). I think there is strong evidence that Batman saw her time as Robin as temporary, and that she was always going to be fired, excuse or not, in Robin #128 or not. Just as soon as she became more trouble than she was worth, or as soon as she was no longer necessary.

I want to look at why (even from a Watsonian perspective) Stephanie Brown as Robin was doomed from the start. Here's Why I think this:

1. The False “Skills and Talent” excuse is reaffirmed and reutilized

After the period of time where Stephanie is sanctioned as Spoiler by Batman, she is ‘fired’ for the first time in Gotham Knights #37.

Batman does not tell Stephanie she is fired, he just never reallows her entry into the Batcave after locking everyone out during Bruce Wayne: Murderer. She has to track him down and ask what’s going on to find out he dropped her like she was nothing.

Gotham Knights #37 (2000)

He tells her it’s because she lacks the “skills or talent”. Is this true? Well… no, not reallyZ Or at least, we have very few good reasons to believe that this is Batman's real reason he fires her, especially in the face of all the other better substantiated explanations the text supports and states. As I’ve analyzed before, there’s strong evidence Batman fires her because he has reunited with his estranged team no longer needs her to make himself stop feeling lonely. Additionally, some part of her firing is because she reminds him too much of his dead son. (I highly recommend checking out the corresponding posts if you are interested in why)

Point is, I’ve already argued how the “skills or the talent” line is pretty much an Extremely bullshit excuse he only tells Stephanie to justify himself to her. But what does that have to do with Steph’s run as Robin?

Well, the idea that Stephanie lacks “the skills or the talent” comes up again. In fact, the exact words “skills and talent” are directly repeated when she is first sanctioned as Robin. And its very telling how they are used.

Let’s look at that moment. 

Alfred is trying to dissuade Batman from making Stephanie Robin, and Batman is defending his choice.

Robin #126 (1993)

Batman claims once more that Stephanie does not have the “skills and talent”. 

By doing this, Batman is reaffirming his largely facetious rationale he tells Stephanie when he he fires her the as Spoiler. By refusing to abandon this as an excuse, and repeating it now, he is reaffirming his own validity in that moment, his correctness is dropping her in the way he did.

But its also weird. If he fired her as Spoiler because he claimed she lacked “the skills or the talent”, why is he using her lack of “skills and talent” as a reason why she should be Robin?

Batman says she can be taught the “skills and talent” he claims she currently lacks. Was that magically not true when he fired her for lacking those same “skills and talent” in Gotham Knights #37? 

This straight contradiction is weird. What it does is key us in to the fact that Batmans spoken explanation about “skills and talent” for whether or not he wants Stephanie on his team is not really based off of any consistent logic about her skill level. 

This is backed up by something else he says to justify this choice in that very same comic.

Robin #126 (1993)

Again, this logic makes no sense with his past actions. If the issue with Stephanie being a vigilante is she is “out on her own” without being “under [Batmans] direct supervision”, then why did he fire Stephanie without a proper reason when she was sanctioned as Spoiler and was  under his supervision, when he was training her? 

Again, Robin #126 creates entirely contradictory logic for Batman, and calls out the specific peculiarities of this through the repetition of the “skills and talent” phrasing.

These moments establish right off the bat that Bruce Wayne’s spoken rationale for hiring Stephanie as Robin is completely illogical. 

Batman reusing the “skills and talent” justification also reaffirms his willingness to justify his first firing of her, and sets up the potential for him to use the exact same dumbass excuse that he used the first time.

This all shows that Batman is willing to use his bullshit excuses to fire or hire her indiscriminate from her actual personhood depending on what is most useful for him. And it shows Batman is retaining and reaffirming his so called “logic” for firing her in Gotham Knights #37, therefore leaving open the opprotunity for him to reuse the exact same excuse if he felt like it.

Chiefly, the reference to Gotham Knights #37 and her orginal firing asks us to compare her time as Robin to the first time she was hired and then fired, and examine why. And if the first time Steph was sanctioned was absoluely arbituary, what does that say about what might be true about her time as Robin?

But wait! There’s more.

2. Alfred’s allusion to Steph as an instrument to get Tim back as Robin

Alfred confronts Batman with this idea that Bruce might be trying to “lure” back Tim as Robin by making Stephanie Brown Robin.

Robin #126 (1993)

Regardless of how this scheme is supposedly meant to work, this idea is presented to the reader from Alfreds point of view. Alfred, who oftentimes serves as a vantage point of morality and reason in contrast to Batmans single-mindedness and irrational obsessions. Additionally, the language Alfred uses certifies how serious of an option this is. Alfred doesn’t just ask Batman to “clarify” or “say” he isn’t hiring Steph as Robin to lure Tim back, Afred asks Batman to “promise” it. The word “promise” implies that this isn’t just a far off vague possibility that Alfred is discussing, but a distinct and worrying probability Alfred is detecting.

And damningly, Bruce does not answer Alfreds plea. All he would have to say is one word, ‘no’, and he would banish this as a possibility from Alfred's mind and largely deny this reading from the narrative. But, as we see, he doesn’t deny what Alfred says. He ignores the direct question, and he turns his face away. Look at how as he speaks only a sliver of his face is visible in the proceeding panel to Alfreds question. 

This places Batmans silence in an even more damning light. He can’t even look Alfred in the eyes, he is already looking away as he speaks, as he ignores Alfreds question entirely.

You can decide whether or not you find this moment entirely convincing, whether or not you believe Alfred is correct in his assessment. But at the very least, this moment asks the reader take seriously the possibility that Alfred is right: that Batman has made Stephanie Robin in order to try to get Tim Drake back as Robin.

But wait! There’s even more.

3. Stephanie Brown and the lack of information given to her as proof of the temporariness nature of her time as Robin

Bruce Wayne’s distrust of Stephanie is a long running theme of their relationship. It’s brought up consistently during the time she is sanctioned as Spoiler. 

Robin #100 (1993)

And it drives a wedge between her and Tim romantically, before she is eventually told Tims real identity.

This isn’t just a vague distrust, the main way it manifests is through the secret, vigilante related information which Stephanie does not have access to.

She is denied knowledge, specifically secret identity related knowledge, consistently. Not having Stephanie cued into all of the information the rest of the team has when she is Spoiler is a tactical decision which isn’t exactly cruel or necessarily especially strange on its own. But this distrust with sensitive information, (most primarily Batman’s true identity as Bruce Wayne) is extremely strange when Stephanie is made Robin.

The “Robin” identity up until that point is invariably tied to Bruce Wayne. 

In the cases of every Robin beforehand, (in most interpretations and tellings) the meeting of Bruce Wayne and the meeting of Batman occur in extremely close proximity to one another, and the full picture of Bruce Wayne’s secret identity does not remain a total secret for very long, and in NONE of these tellings is that information not known when any of the other Robins put on the costume. The Robin and Batman relationship is also just generally tied strongly to Bruce Wayne as an identity. Dick Grayson and Jason Todd are ward and adopted son respectively of Bruce Wayne specifically, and Tim Drake lives with Bruce Wayne in the manor. They all interact with the man and the mask.

Stephanie breaks this pattern. She is the only Robin who doesn’t get to know his real name or see his face. (Her relationship with Batman mirrors the early Batgirl/Batwoman archetype much more- a character who interacts with The Batman, but isn’t alllowed know him as Bruce Wayne)

The text of Robin #126 points out her lack of knowledge specifically, but explains it away as temporary.

Robin #126 (1993)

We are told in this panel that it is a temporary matter, that of course Stephanie will eventually get to know Batmans identity, she just has to prove herself first!

This screams bullshit to me. Stephanie has worked him as Spoiler for a considerable amount of time in the past, and after more time still she’s been made Robin, but this probation until she gets to know the “big secrets” is somehow necessary where it never has been before? I don’t really buy it, but you are certainly allowed to take him at his word.

Anyway you slice it, distance from important information, the “big secrets” is a prevailing aspect of Stephanie’s time as a vigilante.

And it finally comes to a head in War Games (2004). (I won’t break down the entirety of my thoughts on War Games here for the record, but trust me, they are numerous and vitriolic)

This idea of Batman's distrust in giving Stephanie sensitive information is hammered in over and over during War Games. For instance, the first issue of War Games contains several small allusions to this idea.

Batman: The 12 Cent Adventure (2004)

This only becomes more overt as War Games continues, specifically when Stephanie meets and speaks with Catwoman.

Catwoman #34 (2002)

Catwomans internal monolouge points out the specific strangeness of Robin Stephanie not knowing who Matches Malone is, she presses on how this is especially strange for someone using the Robin mantle, alluding to what I touched on earlier, the unqiuess of Robin Stephanie’s relationship with secrets and secret identities compared to every other Robin.

 Catwoman #34 (2002)

We get another example of this where Selina once more points out information that Selina, a longtime friend, enemy, and lover of Batman, assumes Robin would or should naturally know, which we discover Stephanie was not privy to during her time as Robin.

Thats two examples where Stephanie’s lack of knowledge about secret identities (which there is no real reason for her not to know) is specifically pointed out to be strange and uncommon in relation to what the “Robin” mantle denotes, a level of trust which is simply not present.

But what am I getting at here? What does this distrust mean?

Well, if you ask me, it’s evidence that Robin, for Stephanie, was always intended by Bruce Wayne to be temporary. You don’t give sensitive information to temporary members, to the people who aren’t long term, who aren’t meant to stick around, who are going to be dropped, just like Bruce dropped her the first time.

This feels especially true given the fact that this sensitive information she is not told, in the case of catwomans secret ID and who Matches Malone is, isn’t particulary sensitive at all and the sort of information that it’s clearly expected a Robin should know. 

To me, the fact that all of that information is withheld from Steph, and especially the fact that she doesn’t get to know “The Secret” is indicative of the fact that she was always going to be fired as Robin, that she was always meant to be temporary.

Between the “skills and talent” reiteration, Alfred’s explicit reference to the idea that Batman was using Stephanie to lure Tim back, and the information which is withheld from Stephanie in direct contrast to every previous Robin, there is substantial evidence that Bruce Wayne always intended for Stephanie Brown to be a means to an end as Robin.

If we take Alfreds word, this temporariness is because Stephanie served as a cog in Bruce’s larger scheme to lure back Tim into the role of Robin.

Does this mean Batman though of her as temporary the entire time she was Robin? No. Does that mean he was doing this maliciously? Also no. Did he even know he was doing this distancing consciously? Hard to say. 

It also doesn’t mean he didn’t have sweet moments with Stephanie as Robin, it doesn’t mean he didn’t change his mind about using her to lure Tim back (if that was his plan at some point), and it doesn’t mean he never cared about her.

But I think it's entirely fair to say that at least some part of Bruce Wayne was just fine with using Stephanie the same way he did when he sanctioned her as Spoiler and then dropped her. That at least some part of Batman was retaining these excuses, keeping up those walls and secrets because at least some part of him knew she wasn’t supposed to last. That some part of him did this so that he would be able to get rid of her guilt free as soon as it became more beneficial for her to get gone.

[softomi]

Catfish

prompt: mother says to be wary of people you meet on the internet, especially since you never know who’s on the other side of the screen. 

pairing: atsumu x reader

the unpaid extras: osamu, suna

general taglist: @graykageyama

Osamu liked to mess with his brother and lately he’s been planning the largest prank. It originally wasn’t supposed become a huge thing, but then Suna just kept edging him on; adding more things one by one and it just spiraled. Osamu was catfishing Atsumu with your pictures.

Now, Osamu knows that it sounds bad but technically you were in on the prank. You had never met nor even knew Atsumu, heck, you didn’t even know who Osamu was. You had been part of the prank merely through text messages and the occasional meet up with Suna.

To put it simply, Suna met you through one of his teammates; coincidentally you ended up in one of his classes and the two of you built a tiny friendship. Which was why, when Suna was thinking of the perfect person to catfish Atsumu with; your face lit up in his head.

You were the perfect candidate, exactly Atsumu’s type literally to a tee. When Suna pulled up your contact, the first thing he did was offer to pay you. Every picture you sent used for the prank, he’ll send you cash through an app and as a broke college student who needed cash fast, you agreed as long as the photos weren’t used for anything weird or sexual. He made sure to send you proof of each photo in use.

This brings it all back to dear Osamu catfishing his brother. He had created an entirely new Instagram for you, complete using your name and a cute description that him and Suna had spent two hours thinking of. They decided to even spend a few days perfecting it, posting pictures a few days apart with captions, following random groups, liking posts, essentially creating a whole new personality using your photos. Osamu had even developed a fake occupation for you; a foodie blogger to which some posts were dedicated to food reviews for restaurants Osamu deemed worthy of a post.

And when Osamu says that the prank spiraled; it fucking spiraled. Originally it started with Suna and Osamu following the account, suddenly Suna’s teammates began following the account. Osamu made the mistake of tagging Onigirl Miya in one of your photos, ultimately adding a few random people to follow the account. Suddenly after two weeks of having the account, you gained over two thousand follows.

It was no worries though, because Osamu can quickly catfish Atsumu, take down the account, and call it all good.

Safe to say, Atsumu accepted the friend request rather quickly. Osamu and Suna snicker to themselves, it took Atsumu less than five minutes to accept and he was already liking all of your photos. Not even ten minutes pass and he’s sliding into the DM’s.

The two men looking at the phone and burst into laughter. They spend five minutes cackling at Atsumu’s random ‘hey’ message that followed with a smiling emoji.

Osamu was absolutely entertained, it was hilarious that his own brother had fallen for his catfish and honestly, Osamu was ready to give up the act after three days but then Atsumu said something that just really pissed him off. He doesn’t remember what it was, he just suddenly ended up two more weeks later still having the fake Instagram account and still having Atsumu believe that he was falling in love with some girl.

Somehow the account ended up with over five thousand followers, Atsumu messages the account religiously, and Osamu for some godly reason is still managing the account three months later. It’s spiraled.

“I have a girlfriend!” Atsumu doesn’t know why his friend and brother are laughing. He’s scrolling through your Instagram, the catfish Instagram.

Osamu almost chokes on his food, “So what, have you guys gone on a date? Have you even seen her in real life?” Suna snorts into his drink, he coughs when he accidentally inhales the water sharply.

Atsumu slumps in his seat, his voice small, “No, but we talk every day and she likes me!”

Suna is coughing even harder now, tears threatening to leave his eyes to the point that he excuses himself to the bathroom. Osamu has a shit eating grin on his face, “How do you know she’s actually not some old dude catfishing you?”

“She’s not!” Atsumu stutters, “She’s real!”

“Prove it.”

Osamu was about to learn a harsh lesson about the world; the world loves to bite you in the ass when you least expect it.

Atsumu leans forward, an eerie grin on his lips, “Happily.” Atsumu whips out his phone, quickly presses a number and holds the phone to his ear. He holds a finger up to his brother, even gesturing for the returning Suna to remain quiet. The phone picks up, “Hey babe, you wanna meet me here at Onigiri Miya?” Atsumu looks at the watch on his wrist, “Twenty minutes? Perfect.”

Osamu’s believing his brother is bluffing. There was no way in hell he’d be able to somehow magically bring the catfish to life, heck, Atsumu would be a god if suddenly he could. Thirty minutes pass, Osamu is exchanging looks with Suna. It’s absolutely silent between the three.

Osamu is suddenly feeling guilty, Suna is uncomfortable to the point that he’s even texting you to make sure you weren’t actually coming, and you confirmed with him that you weren’t.

“Should we tell him?” Osamu whispers when another five minutes pass.

Suna is deadpanned, “I don’t know, we’re kind of reaching a sad territory now. Let’s just break up with him and ghost him.”

Osamu groans, “But do we want to deal with a sad Atsumu, I’ll take getting my ass kicked over him crying in my apartment.”

The door chimes and their jaws smack the floor. You walked through the door, eyes roaming the place before landing on the three huddled into the corner. Is he a fucking god? Atsumu stands from his seat, he meets you halfway, pulling you into a heartfelt kiss that has you swooning.

The closer you approach with Atsumu’s arm around your shoulder, the more they truly begin to believe that Atsumu is a god.

“Guys, this is my girlfriend.” This time it’s Atsumu who has a shit-eating grin, “Ain’t she a beauty, the pictures don’t do her justice.”

It takes everything in Osamu to not scream, “But, you said you’d never even met her before.”

Atsumu gazes into your eyes, hearts practically floating above his head, “I mean I guess technically this is our first-time meeting, right?”

You nod, a puppy like expression on your face, “I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself yet. You must be Osamu.” You point to him then your fingers drag to the other male, “Suna.”

“Oh.” Suna sits straight up, “Oh!” He catches the glint in your eyes, the conniving little minx of a look. Suna was no longer calm, “We’ve been double crossed!”

There’s screaming, fingers are being pointed at each other, Atsumu is gripping Osamu by the neck of his shirt, Suna is literally calling your phone to make sure that it’s actually you, Osamu is pulling his brother’s hair. The customers of the restaurant stare with their jaws dropped at the scene.

Everyone is squished into Osamu’s small office. Suna is sitting on the desktop, Osamu in his chair, Atsumu in the spare seat, and you lean on the arm of Atsumu’s chair. His arm dangles around your waist, pulling you to lean on him with a cheery grin.

Atsumu leans forward, taking in the expressions of the two bewildered boys, “I guess let’s start at the beginning.”

While the story technically began three months ago with Suna asking for your cooperation, the story of you and Atsumu began two months ago.

The extra cash from all the pictures you sent Suna was giving you enough to be able to go out and live a little on the weekends. Originally the bar was dead, you and your friends were tucked into the corner in a booth when a rowdy bunch of men came in. Your friends gasped having recognize them as members of a sports team and with their excitement, they must have won a game.

It didn’t affect your group that much until it came to split ways; being in your last year of university, you excused yourself, insisting that you needed to go home to finish a project. As you stood at the register, card tapping against the counter, that was when he showed up.

At this point, Atsumu had spent the past hour believing the gods were on his side. He practically walked by your table ten times just to make sure the face matched the one in his instagram’s DM. After forty minutes of the constant back and forth, your quick gazes at him walking by the table seem to do nothing. Were you unable to recognize him?

He took his shot watching you stand alone at the counter. He finishes off his drink and smoothly strides to you.

“Hey!” Atsumu leans on the counter, flashing a smile despite alcohol dripping from the side of his mouth, “Wouldn’t you consider this fate?” He gestures between the both of you.

You’re confused, shooting him a puzzled gaze, “Sorry, you must have me mistaken for someone else.” You hand the card to the worker, anxiously eyeing the male who’s increasingly invading your space.

Atsumu places a hand on the small of your back, it was something Instagram you had mentioned you liked, instead it triggered a fight or flight. Your hand makes harsh contact with his cheek, he retracts his hand immediately.

“Don’t touch me!” You bark at him, “Perv.” You’re aggressively signing the receipt, storming out of the door while other men seem to ooh at Atsumu’s situation.

“Hey!” Atsumu catches your figure outside of the bar, you’re waving a hand to catch a cab, “I think we got off on the wrong foot there.”

You don’t give him a second glance, “Look, I don’t know who you think you are.”

“Atsumu.” He stands right in front of you, blocking your sights for a cab. He’s got the widest smile on his face as he holds out a hand, “Miya Atsumu. Volleyball player. Setter for the Black Jackals.”

“Okay.” You run a hand through your hair, oddly taking his hand into a shake while eyeing him, “Miya Atsumu, volleyball player, setter for the Black Jackals.”

You step to the side, arm out still trying to catch a taxi but he blocks your way once more and he looks at you with such wonder. His eyes practically having stars coming out and his smile warm and inviting. He was wondering if you were a twin, maybe he had actually gotten the wrong person.

“You are?”

The wind is causing your hair to blow in your face, he wants to so bad to brush the strands behind your ears but the way you gave him a slap earlier makes him think that’s a bad idea. Your fingers pull your hair back, “Y/n. I don’t have a fancy title like yours but, I guess I don’t know, senior to be graduating at the university.” You sidestep him once more, “I’m just trying to catch a cab home.”

Once more he blocks your way and you look at him with defeat. He was persistent. He laughs, “Sorry, last time, but do you not know me?”

You’re still as confused as ever, “Look if you’re going to pull some cheesy line about seeing me before, it’s not going to work.”

“Wait, just hold on a second.” Atsumu pulls out his phone, his fingers are shaking as he presses onto the app. He pulls up your profile, handing you his cell phone, “This is you isn’t it?!”

Your eyes scan the social media page, your mouth falling open, there’s a hidden laugh itching in your throat. These were all the picture you had taken for Suna and somehow, you’re being shown by a stranger your fake profile.

“We’ve been messaging for like a month, I can’t believe you don’t recognize me.”

I don’t recognize you because I’m not the one talking to you.

You’re perplexed, you weren’t sure what you were supposed to do, if you told him he’s being catfished you’d lose the flow of side cash you’ve developed but if you didn’t, isn’t that just wrong. And the more you look at him from under the stars, he’s rather cute; you suddenly feel bad for slapping his face earlier.

“Do you want to get some coffee?”

Your offer sends him over the moon, he’s walking alongside you to the nearest convenience; Atsumu is rather talkative, bringing up topics of everything and anything that comes to his mind. As the two of you look over drink options in the cooler, his hands pull two cans of black coffee.

“You’re favorite right?” He holds one out to you.

Your actively smiling, biting your lower lip and wondering if you needed to play along with the role but as he stares at you with such adoring eyes, it makes your heart skip a beat just taking in the fact that he would remember something trivial over text.

“Actually.” You place the drink back, opting for a sweeter caramel macchiato, “I would say that this is my favorite.”

Atsumu quirks a brow, “Are you saying you were lying to me?” He places a hand over his heart, “And here I thought we were soulmates.”

Your hand smacks against his arm, “Shut up.”

“So what are you studying for?” Atsumu sips his drink, the two of you leaning against the windows of the convenience store. There’s a slight sway in his body and you’ve unknowingly followed his movements.

“Literature. Once I graduate, an internship is probably where I’ll start but I’m hoping I can get hired into a publishing company.” He’s comfortable to be with and you aren’t sure if it’s because he thinks he knows you or because his presence is just like that; comfortable.

Atsumu finishes off his canned beverage, “And you do that, all on top of running a foodie Instagram.”

From what you gathered on a quick skim of the account; they have your occupation as a lower level food blog; it’s rather funny. You can only nod to him, “It’s just a side hobby really.”

“Well maybe I could join you on one of your little adventures.”

You try to suppress the immense grin that wants to grow on your lips, there’s an internal battle happening of whether you should tell him or not but once again, the way he looks at you, the cute doe eyed look; it puts butterflies in your stomach.

“How about tomorrow?” He lets out a small gasp, your hands pull out your cell phone and offer it to him, “Your number?”

“I’m free for lunch, just text me when and where.”

You press the number he’s inserted into his contact; in a second his cell rings and he’s showing off his screen, “Don’t message me on Instagram though, I’m detoxing from social media for a bit. Just, text my number.”

He walks you to the curb, helping you flag down a cab, and you give him one last gleeful glance before getting into the car. As you sit, you’re quick to dial Suna’s number. You know he’s probably sleeping but the light feeling in your heart overrides his sleep schedule.

“What?” He’s groaning.

“Suna listen to me carefully. The prank that you guys are doing.” You hear a small snore, “Suna!” He jolts awake and you groan, “You know what, go back to sleep.”

“Thanks.” He hangs up immediately.

Your phone dings, Atsumu’s name pops up. Can’t wait for our date. You bite on your thumb, a smile on you before you respond.

Although having just seen him forty minutes ago, you two text back and forth. First he wondered if you arrived home safe, next he sent pictures of himself insisting it’s for you to choose for his icon, then he proceeds to narrate his way home. You wonder if you’re responding like catfish you but the more he brings up random topics, the more you forget about that stupid prank.

Wait let me call you.

Your heart beats faster, your phone lighting up with his name. You press the answer button slowly, “Hello?” You giggle.

“You’re telling me that you like spikers more than setters.” His voice is nearly screaming and you lean back on your chair laughing into the phone.

The quick research you did on his team had you watching short videos, and while you had to admit it was amazing to watch, your eyes drifted more to one of his teammates than him, “What’s his name?” You lean to look at your computer screen, “Bokuto Koutarou?”

“No!” He’s whining out into the air, “If I had known you were a spiker girl I would have changed positions.”

Your eyes catch the time on your laptop, “Woah. It’s three in the morning.” That meant you had spent over four hours total texting him and now you were on the phone with him, “What are you doing awake?”

He blows out a breath of air, “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Well.” You draw out the word, dragging your self to your bed, “I’m going to go to sleep now.” There’s a pause on the line, “Atsumu?” He hums tiredly, “Good night.”

There’s a small snore from him before he shifts around, “Good night.”

The morning light urges you awake, for a second you peak at your phone’s time and it nears ten in the morning. You’re about to throw your phone back onto the bedside table until Atsumu’s name catches your eye. For having gone to bed at three a.m. he shot you a text at seven.

Morning beautiful.

It was sweet, simple, and it made you smile; giving you the extra push to get out of bed. You stalked your own catfish page, there hadn’t seemed to be any updates so there was still time. A quick search of the internet has you picking out a random restaurant nearby and you send off a text to Atsumu about a meeting time.

You were late, pushing through the doors of the restaurant, your eyes scan the place to see him raise a hand for you. He’s dashingly handsome despite being in casual wear, you wonder if he spent time like you did just trying to pick out an outfit or if he spent forever gelling his hair as long as you tried to get your strands into the perfect waves.

“Sorry, did you wait long?” You pull into the seat in front of him.

He’s smiling and you hope to god that when you break the news to him, he’ll still smile for you, “I just got here not too long ago too.” He looks over the menu quickly, “What do you think you’ll get?”

You inspect each dish, a light hum on you as you dance around the option, “The spaghetti sounds nice.”

Atsumu tilts his head, “It has red meat in it.” You stare blankly at him, “Aren’t you allergic to red meat?”

“Oh.” You set the menu down, “Actually.” He follows your actions, you’ve become nervous at what you’re suddenly about to do, “There’s something you should know.”

“Fuck this!” Atsumu throws the napkin on the table, you jump as he harshly stands, throwing the chair back.

“Atsumu.” You stand.

“No! Don’t. Were you just messing with me then? Did Osamu tell you I was going to be at the bar last night?” Atsumu’s fist ball, “You know what, whatever.”

“Wait.” You follow him behind, “Atsumu. I’m sorry.”

He harshly turns to you, god, even in sunlight you were beautiful to him. He wants to laugh, the month he spent talking to the fake you; yeah that was all bullshit to him but honestly when he saw you last night, when he spent over four hours actually talking to you; he actually felt that maybe this could be something deeper.

“I’m really sorry, I know I should have said something right away.” You have a soft pout on you and it makes him outwardly groan.

He runs a hand through his hair, “Okay, it’s fine. I probably deserved this prank too anyways; must have pissed him off somehow.” He waves a hand, “You can just go back to doing whatever.”

Your hand pulls on his wrist, “I owe you a meal.” You bat your eyes with a cheeky grin, “If you take pictures of me, we can send them to Suna and use the money for our food.”

“Oh.” He begins to smile, “I like that idea.”

Back into Osamu’s office, Atsumu has now pulled you onto his lap, your head resting on his shoulder with arms hanging around his shoulders. The two bachelors stare at the sickly loving sight.

A lightbulb goes off in Suna’s head, “Wait! My money!”

You snort a laugh into Atsumu’s shoulder, “Hey, I earned that fair and square. You paid for goods.”

Osamu is having a staring contest with his brother, “So you two have been actually dating for two months? Why would you still message the catfish account then, why not just kick my ass when you found out?”

Atsumu taps a finger on his chin, “Well, I was just originally going to ghost you guys but then babe here and I discovered that we could fund all of our dates with Suna’s money. We even started setting aside leftover cash from our dates to plan a trip.”

You giggle, “We’re going to Disney next weekend.”

“All the pictures.” Suna whispers.

There’s an amused hum in your throat, “Honestly I’m surprised you guys didn’t figure it out. We were dropping hints in the photos.”

Indeed, the two males looked at the pictures you sent them. If they backtracked to two months ago, there wouldn’t be any hints but the closer they get to the present; it was painfully obvious. They were just too caught up in their excitement to even notice. In one photo, part of Atsumu’s shoulder and hair was just barely in the picture; another had his reflection vividly displayed in the window of the restaurant, and somehow Osamu and Suna missed the obvious Black Jackals jacket sitting on the back of the chair next to you.

The two boys were having a mental breakdown.

You shifted on Atsumu’s lap, leaning forward to tap against the top of Osamu’s phone, “Now, if you’d please deactivate the account since this whole charade is over.”

Osamu ended up not deleting the account. He set the account to private because seeing how his brother was so deeply entranced by you, Osamu had a feeling this one was going to last and he was right; on Atsumu’s wedding day, his little best-man speech had him whipping out the catfish Instagram to display on the monitor for everyone to see.

[mousehole5000]

tgcf again chapters 174-191. im now midway through book 4. pain and suffering. and yet also.... this is really good.... but also.... pain...

okay cave of ten thousand gods everythings coming out into the light.... xie lian pretending not to hear fengqing drop their act im emotional..... fengqing silently working together to separate xie lian and hua cheng im emotional..... every word that comes out of mu qing’s mouth im emotional....

honestly reading the xianle trio discussing hua cheng.. its very hard for me NOT to project all the times ive been in a friendship trio and someone got a boyfriend the other two didnt like (which was every time. theres never been a bf everyone liked. sometimes i was the one who had the bf. there were no winners then and tbh i predict there will be no real winners here as far as this friendship goes but such is life)

mu qing is so smart he’s clever he’s tricksy i love it i love him ugh

“A pair of arms had circled around him from behind, and hugged him with force all of a sudden. Xie Lian had buried his face in his back, and also didn’t speak. Though nothing was said, it was enough.” okay i cant get into every different way im feeling about whats going down bc it would get Too Personal but this..... im emo. also xie lian saying “something like this has to be said clearly“ and then proceeding to not say a word just going in for a hug is a mood

“He heard Hua Cheng’s staggering voice coming from above. “...Your Highness. You really…will be the death of me.” - ok well DONT SAY THAT!! now im worried!!!

“Hua Cheng, however, only snorted, appearing as if his eyes could see through the thick rocky walls. He said darkly, “Don’t worry. If he kills one, I’ll make ten more. Fast and furious like the storms, I will never back down. Let’s see who’s the one left standing in the end.” Xie Lian’s heart skipped a beat for some reason, and he mumbled inwardly, “... Oh no, this is bad.” Even though Hua Cheng’s expression was subconsciously displayed, Xie Lian really was quite weak to this aggressive and rebellious confidence of his.” - fjadskfajsl its okay xie lian honey you never know whats going to do it for you

okay so are the murals and statues are only from the xianle era? im hoping hua cheng didnt secretly follow xie lian during his time as a mortal during the entire 800 years and then pretend to a total stranger that would be too much imo lets see. i still really do get why feng xin and mu qing are like “...dude wtf lets get out of here stay away from that guy” (also tbh probably if theyd all managed to stay close... this probably wouldnt be happening which isnt a judgement im just saying bc thats definitely how ive felt about friendships) although this whole thing IS indeed tinged with homophobia which i still dont think makes sense in this setting but whatever i guess.

BOOK 4!!!! im scared

“A few days ago he nearly fainted, and it was only after that did he realize it was because he hadn’t had anything to eat for several days.” - unfortunately relatable but :(

“Ever since Xie Lian was young, he had never had to consider these kinds of affairs, and this was truly the first time in decades that this problem gripped him. However, if gods didn’t even know what starvation felt like, how could they possibly understand the feelings of a starving worshipper? How could they possibly empathize? At this point, he could only take this experience as a form of training.” - TRUE THO!!!!!!!! i like seeing this even tho the circumstances are sad

wait does xie lian get his bad cooking skills from him mom? im gonna cry...

“After returning to the city, Mu Qing’s stomach was still turning. He said as he stumbled, “I thought…that porridge, it smelled like bran water, but I hadn’t thought it’d taste like it too!” Feng Xin gritted his teeth. “Shut up! Don’t force people to remember that pot of stuff! The queen is…body of ten thousand gold after all…never cooked…this is already…UGH!…” Mu Qing humphed. “Did I say something wrong? If you didn’t think it was like bran water, why don’t you…go ask the queen to grant you another bowl! UGH!…” The two were heaving back and forth, and Xie Lian grabbed hold of the both of them, patting their backs.” - xianle trio.... including simply because it made me do the pleading emoji in real life..... also the way the queen wanted to feed all of them... weeping

i didnt realize that mu qing would still be around during this time.... god the fact that i know theyre all going to split......

“It’s precisely because it’s a time like this that money has to be brought up!” Mu Qing countered. “A time like this? What time is it? Time when we’re starving! It doesn’t matter if you don’t want to admit it, but nothing can be done without money! Can you both not just suck it up a little bit?” - mu qing i love you. god.... for real the fact that he comes from a completely different background than the other two is so important to his character and i think it shows so much in the way he continues to be in the present. he gives me the vibe of someone who is smart and hardworking but is bitter about it and tbh!!!! i get why he is!!! he’s very aware of these kinds of concerns bc he’s had to be, while the other two kind of think theyre above it and its a big difference between them. he’s still separated by the circumstances of his birth despite how much harder he’s worked to get to where he is.... ugh painful and delicious

i really am enjoying the xianle story tbh. xie lian going from his highness, favored by heaven, well-intentioned but lacking in experience and understanding to living in poverty and fighting with mortals who disrespect him. fucking delicious i mean this sincerely and respectfully im sad but i really like his character arc. and then to how he is in the present....

“Mu Qing looked at him, speaking not a word. Then he bowed deeply and really turned around to walk away.” - OH NO ITS HAPPENING AHHHHH ;_; honestly all of this hurts but it feels real like i think mu qing has every right to want to leave honestly and he DOES have other family and other ambitions outside of the trio... and i get why feng xin is mad about him wanting to leave when theyre suffering!! and i get why xie lian lets him go.... friendships are hard man and the pain of them splitting is rough!!!!

“Mu Qing’s departure had really shocked him to the core. First, he had never thought that someone so close would just up and leave. Second, Xie Lian had always believed in “forever”. For example, friends would always be friends forever; no betrayal, no deception, no breaking up. Perhaps there’d be times when they’d part, but it for sure wouldn’t be over reasons like “life is too horrible” - pain. just pain. same as above i get it but it hurts

“Xie Lian didn’t know too well just how much money would be considered normal when buying over ten lanterns, and he never looked at the price tag when he purchased things in the past.” - i feel bad kicking him while he’s down and he’s still trying to be kind even when it costs him but this is the first thing that came into my mind

but also oh?? spirits of soldiers from the battlefield you say?? hmmm i wonder... who.... could possibly be among them....

“If you remain forcibly, you won’t be able to rest in peace,” Xie Lian said. The nameless ghost didn’t seem to care. “I pray to never rest in peace.” -  i cant lie this legit gave me goosebumps lol

“Xie Lian himself was alright in suffering through it, since there were far too many other things to worry about. But his mother, who had lived a comfortable, luxurious life, when had she ever done such crude labour? But if the queen didn’t do this work herself, who else could take over?” - hmmmm!!! housekeeping!!!! it matters!!!! rich people dont appreciate how much until they have to do it themselves!!! but this still makes me sad

oh god THATS when they pawned hongjing?? with the king sick and mu qing leaving?? :(((( even more emotional about its appearances in the present day

“That passerby chuckled. “You don’t know? This is too exciting! The servant is beating the master!” - oh god the dramatic and ironic timing of it all

god..... this is just... a sad time....

“MU QING ISN’T LIKE YOU ALL. HE’S MY FRIEND, HE WOULD NEVER HELP YOU!!!” [cut to] “Those were the only words echoing in Xie Lian’s mind, but he couldn’t utter a single sound, and could only crazily grab at anything at his disposal to throw. He didn’t care who he was hurling at, either. Finally, Mu Qing couldn’t take this anymore, and he steeled his face as he swept his sleeves and left. Xie Lian panted harshly for a bit and fell back down, spacing out again.”- IM SAD!!!!!! tbh i wonder if on some level xie lian kind of felt like mu qing owed him? i know he said to forget about that stuff to both of them but its one thinig to say it and think you mean it and another to have to deal with it

white no-face what is your DEAL!! also all the little fire ghost bits im...

“After having exchanged so many words, Feng Xin finally got the gist of what had transpired. He widened his eyes and pointed at Mu Qing, unable to speak. A moment later, he bent down and grabbed a sack and flung it over, roaring. “SCRAM! SCRAM SCRAM SCRAM!” Mu Qing was hit in the face by the sacks of rice he brought and backed two steps away. All three of them in the house were panting harshly.” - this is it this is the part where i closed my laptop and said “noOOooOOOoooo” out loud to my room im so upset... and mu qing still tried to leave the rice even after the broom thing im ;_;

“Feng Xin was completely convinced that he would never do such a thing, but that was precisely why this had become the worst-case scenario!” - pain, suffering, dismay, etc

“Feng Xin continued, “If Your Highness thinks your life might be in danger, I can finish this for you, I won’t tell Her Majesty, haha.” - bless your heart for trying feng xin

“But it shouldn’t be like this. The Feng Xin of the past would have absolute faith in him no matter what! Even if there was only twenty percent doubt, it was still unbearable!” - AHHHHHHH okay idk if i really have much to say about their relationship other than im sad but IM SAD!!!!

the differences between feng xin and mu qing’s relationship with xie lian are so interesting. feng xin has clearly always idolized xie lian a lot while mu qing hasnt at least not in the same way and he seems like he has some resentment towards xie lian (thats how i read it anyway thats what i said about it at the beginning of book 2 and i think its understandable and can be a very real part of friendships) that feng xin doesnt and i just think thats neat!!

“He was firmly tied down upon the altar, that broken base of the statue under his body. There were many people squeezed below the altar, and pair after pair of round, unblinking eyes were watching him.” - hmmm dont think i like where this is going

“Yet, before he could finish, he realized that the white silk that he used to cover his face had been undone. In this moment, the thing that had him completely tied down was that exact white silk.” oh my god wait is this ruoye?? is ruoye that same ribbon???? ill cry

“The hand stained with blood, the one that ended a life, was immune to the Face Disease.” - ohhh shit okay. okay okay. okay. shit okay. i See now.... so if youre an innocent civilian the only way to escape this fate (and the faces are actually the souls of other innocent civilians) is to get rid of your innocence... and doesnt this disease not actually hurt its just horrific? god.............

“White No-Face pitied, “You think they don’t want to do it? Wrong, it’s not that they don’t want to, it’s solely because no one wants to be the first, that’s all.” - shut up!!! youre the one who created this situation dont fucking preach about the way you think the world is

“He forced down the mouthful of blood and hissed, “What are you laughing at? You think that you got what you wanted? This was all forced by you!” The ghost fire within the ghost’s hand flickered even more fiercely.” - yes exactly!!! you put people in extreme circumstances sometimes they do extreme things!! youve proved nothing!! god i do love when characters say exactly what im thinking. plus the first ones who caved were trying to save their child

“He felt that, if he was to let them do what they wanted, there was something in his heart that would never return to its original state.” - :( also i kind of feel that in my life sometimes and i just hope xie lian’s heart ends up in a state he’s happy with

“He didn’t dare to look at what had become of the person lying on the altar, because what laid there didn’t look human anymore.” AHHHHHH!!! :(((( i mean i get why this event is what made hc... level up??? thats not a good way to describe it fjasldkfjaslk but you know what i mean... that line about being powerless to help your beloved OOOOOOF

okay well finished that chapter im. pain. hmmm. pain. i dont know if i actually have any words rn lol but im gonna stop here for now

[youarejesting]

Quarantine.16

[Masterlist] Pairing: BTS x reader Friends2Lovers But as slow as you can go until the anticipation kills us all… Genres: friendship, drama, romance SLOWEST OF BURNS BUT IT WILL BE BURNING AN ETERNAL FLAME!!! Rating: PG-13 and above Summary: Your brother works with a few BigHit dance teams and whilst having permission to accompany him at work the city shuts down banning anyone from stepping outside for a whole WEEK while they disinfect the streets. If you step outside you might get arrested, shot or poisoned by the chemicals they are emitting through the city. Words: 1.2k Announcement: To anyone who can decipher what exactly Yoongi says my hat is off to you sir/madam... that’s impressive. I used my own text trait of three’s because that’s how I write especially with ellipses haha, anywho... enjoy.

[Part 1]  [Part 15] [Part 17] [Tag Yourself Here]

Jimin woke early the next morning sitting up, grabbing his phone for light to search the room. He noticed a notification from Thomas. It was a message, saying he had volunteered and you were restrained on the sixth floor. Blood running cold, he grabbed his things and ran tripping over the blanket tangled around his legs. He took the elevator up to the Bangtan meeting room bouncing on the balls of his feet feeling sick. If your brother had left it meant you were distraught and alone on the sixth floor probably locked in some small room. He wanted to hit himself, he was on guard duty making sure you were safe. How could he let you trick him into falling asleep on the job?

He busted into the meeting room and switched on the light earning a shrill growl and a pillow to the face from Yoongi. “Turn the F****** light out! You ******* **** *** ****** before I ram my ******* shoe up your ******* ***** ***  ************* **** *** ****** *** ***** of **** **** my *** ********* **** and **** **** you and then maybe you might ******* learn how to **** your ***** *****.” All the members had sat up rubbing their eyes listening to the tiny rapper flip out over being woken so early in the morning.

“Thomas is gone and Y/N is being restrained on the sixth floor, did you not read the text?” They all whipped out their phone sobering up enough to comprehend the severity of the situation. They sat there all morning waiting for you to step out of the sixth floor, some waited in the basement some on the main floor and a few on the fifth floor by the stairwell. It wasn’t until Jimin got sick of waiting, this was his fault and he needed to make it right. 

Heading up the stairs he knocked on the door and the receptionist smiled politely. “Mister Park Jimin, How can I help you?” She said brushing her hair behind her ear. It was usually amusing watching others swoon over him, it used to make him feel good and gave him a sense of accomplishment. If not belonging, like someone out there actually liked him even if it was just for the way he looked.

But you were different after getting to know that there were people like you he didn’t want to have people stare at him like that. You were just an average person, nothing grandiose, nothing overly special. You were just there and kind. Jimin guessed that’s what he needed. His life was already so wild and crazy he didn’t need any more wild and crazy. He thought you were perfect for him, because you didn’t like him because of his fame, and you didn’t like him despite it. When he explained his new song Filter you had said that you didn’t want him to be anything, in particular, you just wanted him around. He knew you wouldn’t be the only one in the world who thought that but right now there was no one but you.

~

Whilst this was happening in the basement Jungkook and a Dazed Yoongi waited for the others to return. Jungkook paced back and forth, he knew this wouldn’t help but he needed to do something to keep his mind off things. He had just finished off his third bottle of water stress drinking to keep himself busy, but now he really had to go to the bathroom. Walking to the bathroom he relieved himself rolling his shoulders and neck. He was tense, this was getting to him. With his head angled upward towards the ledge, he got curious heading over trying to reach the weapon you had placed up there and came up empty. 

Something was fishy about that. Heading back inside the secret base he broke the silence. “The gun is gone?” “The what sorry?” “Y/n, She had a gun, I think she stole it from the bad men on the streets, she hid it for safekeeping but, it’s gone.”

~

One floor up sitting in the lobby, Seokjin and Taehyung sat facing the elevators playing on their phones, well at least Seokjin was. Taehyung, however, was staring at the message Thomas had sent. Something seemed odd, Was it the fact that Thomas usually wrote in English of that the sentence structure was too formal and to odd for Thomas. Perhaps it was the ellipses after a few words. It was definitely odd and yet somehow very familiar.

He wanted to see you again growing bored and sad. Knowing you must be scared at the idea your brother was out there, he opened your chat. You had all swapped phone numbers over ramen after your pinky swear with Namjoon. Hoping they hadn’t taken your phone away, he started writing you a text. Eyes glancing at the last message he had received. There it was the dreaded ellipses, he knew he recognized your way of writing. Everything came in three’s the full stops the emoji’s he flickered back and saw the three emoji’s ‘Thomas’ had sent and slapped Seokjin.

 “Hyung, Thomas isn’t outside! Look!” Thrusting the phone into his hyungs face the older man getting a little annoyed by the suddenness of his dongsaeng ruining his game. “What do you mean?”

~

Meanwhile, Namjoon Hoseok and Namjoon were walking the fourth floor when they heard a muffled sound from Thomas’ office. The confusion filled their wide eyes as they saw the door handle had been reversed. “Hello?” Hoseok called against the door the banging stopped. “Hoseok, is that you?” Their eyes widened ripping the door opened. Coming face to face with Thomas.

~

“I am looking for Y/N” he said looking around, not noticing the woman’s smile fall. Too busy trying to spot you in down the halls. When he couldn’t find you he turned back growing impatient. “Where is she?”

“She went out?” The woman replied meekly. That was the thing she smiled at him saw what she wanted to see but she didn’t know him and when he showed his true colours she shied away. “She headed back downstairs?” Pulling out his phone. Why hadn’t the others texted him, to say she had returned. “No, sir. She headed out-outside… the building”

“No, she what!?” He ran down the stairs calling the group chat. “Guy’s she is gone!” “Yeah we know,” Taehyung and Seokjin starred into the camera with no care to how they looked. “Thomas doesn’t text in three’s, we need to meet up”

“Speaking of, we found Thomas, everyone meets in the lobby in five minutes” “We are already headed up, Jungkook told me she has a gun?” “A what?” Thomas shouted. “When I tried to leave my office this morning and couldn’t as she had reversed the handle, I realized she wasn’t asleep when we spoke. She wakes up to the smallest of noises. She heard everything and she left.

“What do we do?” Taehyung asked the group, trying to get some sort of closure or plan of action. “We could try the radio?” “The mask had ten minutes max, that and the bad guys on the street, it takes two hours on foot through the streets of Seoul,” Namjoon said sadly, he was never one to create false hope.

“Look we don’t know that and we are no worse off if we try, right?” Hoseok asked, Trying to bring the morale of the team back up, but mostly trying to distract himself from the thought of you being gone forever. “It’s too early to grieve”

[Part 1]  [Part 15] [Part 17] [Tag Yourself Here]

Tags:  @bubbletae7​ @lovemusicandotps​ @taetaebq​ @seveniefive​ @w0lfqu33n​ @anaiss97​ @moccahobi​ @maddymal​ @lilacdreams-00​ @lethargicalyssa​ @knjkitten​ @pieislife​ @bunnyboyenthusiast​

[bucksbisexual]

i love you

also on ao3

Summary: Tine has a hard time saying those three little words, so he turns to flowers.

Words: 5427

Tags: #Tine is shy, #this is the first time i dont write tine as a confident gay, #what has this prompt done to me?????, #Fluff, #Established Relationship

<3

Tine handed him a red rose. Sarawat, confused, looked at it and back at Tine. "What's this?"

There was no answer from Tine. Sarawat noticed Tine was both avoiding eye contact and blushing and, as much as he loved the rosy look in his cheeks and how it somehow made him glow, he was confused as to why Tine would give him a rose out of nowhere.

Tine cleared his throat, "A rose. It's for you."

A little smile appeared on Sarawat lips, "I guessed as much, but why?"

He was confused. Why would Tine give him a flower? Did he want something? Was it his birthday? No, it wasn't, that had already passed like two months ago. Was it a special day? Sarawat was sure he kept track of all of them and today wasn't one of them.

"I just... wanted to give you one. Is it that weird that a boy wants to give his boyfriend a flower?" As sweet as that was, Sarawat knew Tine was lying. He decided to not press since it didn't seem like Tine wanted to tell him and accepted the flower.

"Hmm, it isn't." He closed his eyes as he smelt the flower. "Thanks, I like it." Sarawat felt Tine look at him and quickly made eye contact. "Not as much as I like you, though."

Sarawat's smile grew as he noticed that, even after all this time, Tine still blushed at his random confessions. "Shut up."

Before Tine complained, Sarawat quickly gave him a kiss on the cheek. He cut Tine's whine before it happened, "I'm gonna go put it in some water, don't miss me too much, little buffalo."

"You wish," Sarawat knew the words carried no malice, both of them knew Tine was the first one to text Sarawat an I miss you text with a line of sad and crying emojis if they spent more hours than usual apart. Sarawat smirked and went downstairs, his brain trying to come up with a reasonable as to why Tine would give him the rose he held in between his fingers.

---------

The second rose surprises Sarawat. They were alone in the Music Club's band practice room, Sarawat deciding to stay behind to practice a new song CTRL S was going to perform in a few weeks and Tine tagging along because he was supposedly bored (Sarawat knew it was because he missed him, as he did as well after a long day of barely seeing each other), and Tine had supposedly gone to the bathroom. Sarawat paid no mind and kept playing until he saw a glimpse of red in front of him.

Sarawat looked up at Tine, slightly confused. Tine wore a shy smile on his face. "For you."

Another one? Sarawat was a bit shocked, Tine wasn't one to give him material things, the endless kisses at the wee of the night and the words spoken softly below their blankets being more than enough for both of them, so getting roses for two days in a row made him feel loved in a completely different way he had experienced before.

"I... Thank you, Tine." His voice coming out in a softer tone than he expected.

There were butterflies in his stomach and his smile came a little easier as he looked between the rose and Tine. Was this how he made Tine feel when he gave him the bracelet? The same bracelet that rested on the wrist that was handing him the rose. He moved the guitar aside and took the rose, touching the petals with extreme care. He didn't want them to tear off and break Tine's gift.

"You're welcome, Wat," Tine smiled as he sat down next to him.

Sarawat wanted nothing more than to kiss those beautiful rosy lips, so he carefully set the rose on top of the guitar and did so.

---------

The third, fourth, fifth and sixth roses all happened during the same timeframe: right before they went to sleep.

During the first two, Sarawat guessed Tine simply forgot to give it to him and remembered just as they were getting cozy in their bed, but as the fifth and the sixth roses came the following days, Sarawat figured that was just going to be when Tine would give him the roses every day until he eventually stopped doing so.

Sarawat wasn't stupid, he knew there was a reason to the roses. He had tried to ask Tine, but his ears turned a bright shade of red and he just said it was a gift. It didn't sound right to him. Yes, Tine could give him gifts, but they both weren't materialistic people and had already talked about that while they were getting to know each other (and Sarawat entered Tine's heart like he owned the place). The last gift had been the bracelet they shared and that happened almost 11 months ago, back when they official moved in together and they were still in that phase of a bit of uncomfortableness between them when it came to being completely public.

That had been so long ago, but Sarawat remembered everything clearly. Every word, every touch, every smile, every tear. There had been some obstacles in the way but they had passed through all of them and were still together now. He had been loving Tine for so long, he barely remembers a time he didn't. His last year of high school being filled with endless searches of the boy he had seen, so bright and full of passion for the music he felt, and endless stares at the only photo he had of him, the only way he had of knowing that he was real and he was beautiful. That was followed by his first year of university, when Tine found him and gave him the chance of a lifetime, a chance to be his pretend boyfriend. Sarawat was over the roof. How could that happen to him? Was praying to god as useful as Man had told him? He didn't care, because he found the boy and he would make sure to never let him go. The school year had ended with them going to sleep for however many hours they needed at their shared apartment, the one they had gotten a few months back, because they were officially dating and they were exhausted after having studied for countless hours for two weeks. And now, on their second year of university, they were better than they had ever felt.

For Sarawat, loving Tine was so easy, so natural, so normal. He wanted to drip Tine in his love, make him feel it all, drown him in it. He wanted to give Tine everything, and if it took him his whole life to do so, then he would because he loved him, every tiny bit of him loved every tiny bit of Tine.

---------

The seventh, eighth, ninth and tenth roses all happened during the same timeframe: right after Sarawat woke up.

The change had at first confused Sarawat, wasn't Tine supposed to give them to him by night? Why was he greeted with a rose in the kitchen?

His confusion must've been visible because Tine just smiled and kissed his forehead.

"You have to eat quickly or else you're gonna be late, sleepyhead," Tine told him as he gave him the seventh rose in a row for a week. "I made something but I wouldn't recommend eating it, so there's leftovers on the fridge if you don't want to lose more time."

Tine grabbed his wallet, his phone and the keys to the car his mom had gifted him after he finished his first year and as he was about to leave, he walked to where Sarawat was sitting, still looking at the rose like it had grown a head, and told him he was going to meet his mom today, followed by a light kiss on his lips, a 'see you later' and the door closing.

Sarawat's brain was a bit too slow to process everything as he was still zombie-like, and when it caught up to everything, Tine was already gone, he had a new rose on his hands and he was about to be really late for class. So he heated up the leftovers and went upstairs to change his clothes, not without first putting the rose on the glass of water where he kept the other six and reminding himself to change the glass for a bigger one and water them as soon as he came back home.

---------

Sarawat thought that after the tenth rose, Tine would stop giving him roses.

He honestly had no reason as to why other than 10 seemed like a good round number. The best things were tens: good grades, high charting music, Tine. So when Tine didn't give him a rose right as he woke up on the eleventh day, he wasn't as surprised as he thought he would've been.

What he did feel, though, was a bit sad. Sarawat wouldn't admit it to anyone else other than maybe Tine, but he had gotten a bit used to the roses. They were all so pretty, and Sarawat was known to have a weakness for pretty. For example, Tine. He was as pretty as pretty could be, and Sarawat had found himself staring at Tine so many times he had had to stop himself from looking at his boyfriend countless of times because Tine just looked that fucking beautiful. 

Just as Sarawat thought of how beautiful Tine was, he sat next to him on the cafeteria. Sarawat looked up and the familiar sight of Tine's fingers holding a bright red rose made him smile.

"Another one?" Tine nodded and he took the rose. "Well, today I'm not taking it as a gift because I actually have something in return."

Tine looked very confused and Sarawat tried to suppress his smirk as he handed him the Blue Hawaiian he had bought along with his Americano.

"It's not as beautiful as you are, but it's something," Tine's cheeks tainted themselves in a light pink as he took the drink.

"Thanks, dumbass," Tine murmured those words and had a sip, obviously shy after Sarawat's little 'gift'. Even after all these months, Tine got extra shy when Sarawat flirted and complimented him on public. Sarawat couldn't stop his smirk from showing, their eyes locking as he got closer to Tine's face.

"Aw, are you shy, baby?" Tine's eyes widened at the pet name. He had only used it in very few occasions and he knew how much it affected Tine. Sarawat felt proud of the bright blush on Tine's cheeks, he knew how much power his words had on him and every time it appeared he felt like giving himself a pat on the back and saying 'Well done'.

Tine lightly punched him in the arm as he tried not to smile. "Shut up, dumbass, don't use that word on public," Sarawat's smirk grew and he took the opportunity of being so close to Tine to kiss both his cheeks, feeling how hot they were on his lips.

"Yes, Mr. Teepakorn, I will never do that again," Sarawat joked and Tine couldn't help the smile from blooming in his face at his boyfriend's stupid acts.

A while after that, their friends joined them at the table, and all throughout the half an hour they could spend together, Sarawat's hand rested on Tine's thigh as Tine played with a loose thread from Sarawat's jacket.

---------

For some reason, Sarawat couldn't sleep that night.

Tine was deep asleep next to him and he didn't want to wake him up, knowing how tired he had felt after cheerleader practice. So Sarawat started thinking about the 11 roses Tine had given him.

He was sure there had to be something behind it. Tine refused to tell him what they meant and insisted they were 'only a gift'. Only a gift, my ass. Tine was someone who forgot things, be it to bring his jacket, his books in the library after he was almost home or his phone in the locker of the cheerleader's changing room. For him to remember to give Sarawat a rose every day for 11 days straight, even as early as before Sarawat woke up (he would never understand how Tine could be a morning person), was a tiny bit suspicious.

So he went to his last resource: Google.

He grabbed his charging phone from his nightstand and opened it, the brightness blinding him a bit until he lowered it. He guessed searching 'what do 11 roses mean' wouldn't give him a definite answer since Tine could give him one the next day and it would then make no more sense, so he opted for 'flower meanings'. That should work, Sarawat thought as he pressed the 'Search' button.

The first thing that showed up were pictures with different types of flowers in them, which wasn't what he was looking for, so he skipped them. Next, there were links of websites from who Sarawat guessed were people who knew a lot about flowers, almost all titles having the words 'meaning', 'colour' and 'symbolism'.

<Flower Meanings by Type, Name, Color and Occasion - The Flower Expert>, the first link read. Sarawat thought it looked legit so he clicked on it. He started looking through the flowers to see if the red rose was there.

After a few weird but lovely flowers, he found the one he had already familiarized himself with and started reading the brief information the website gave.

Rose symbolizes love. It signifies love in its various forms.

Oh.

He scrolled down a bit to see if the website gave more information about roses other than that and, just as he was about to click on a recommended link about the meaning of roses, he saw it.

Did you know? 12 roses as a gift implies the "ultimate declaration of love", 25 roses convey "Congratulations!" and 50 roses express "Unconditional love"

Was Tine- Was Tine trying to tell him something? What did 'ultimate declaration of love' even mean? Sarawat was confused. He wanted to wake Tine up and ask him, but he knew better than to disturb an exhausted Tine. Instead of doing that, he decides to click the link he previously saw.

[...] Red roses convey deep emotions - be it love, longing or desire.

Okay, Sarawat had understood that. But why would Tine give him so many? He already showed how much they liked each other on a daily basis, be it with actions or kisses. He would have understood one but why- oh.

[...] The number of red roses has special romantic meanings associated with them. 12 red roses is the most popular of all which conveys "Be mine" and-

"I love you," Sarawat whispered.

...Tine loved him?

Sarawat felt his heartbeat speed up and a need for air.

They had been dating for long now, their one year anniversary being around the corner, but they had never said those words to each other, Not because they didn't, but because they were strong words, and they didn't want to throw them around like that. Sarawat just never thought Tine would be the first to say them. Well, Tine hadn't directly said them, but the flowers did in his behalf.

At the moment he had only 11 of them and, for the first time since Tine had started giving him flowers, he felt nervous as to receive the next one.

The next day was a Saturday, which usually meant they would go on a date somewhere where food was at close reach and the views were pretty at sunset, but today was storming and it looked like it wouldn't stop, so Sarawat, trying to get more sleep as well as some morning cuddles, rolled to Tine's side, only to find it empty.

Right, Sarawat thought, morning person.

He sighed and sat up on his bed. The only ways of completely waking up he had would either be to have Tine enter their room completely naked (or in some nice lingerie, Sarawat could get into that if Tine liked it) or if he took a shower, and since the first one seemed improbable, the shower option was the only one left.

He got up and looked around their room for some new clothes, hearing the T.V. from downstairs and smiling. Of course Tine was watching a stupid drama. As soon as he got everything, he got into the shower and after 5 minutes, he was ready and wide awake.

His phone made a sound and guessing it was Earn asking him about a doubt she didn't have the time to ask him the day before during practice, he checked it.

Reminder: 1 year with my little buffalo <3

Oh shit.

Thankfully, he hadn't seen Tine yet, so he didn't know (although he hoped so) if Tine remembered it, and Tine didn't know he forgot it was today.

Sarawat, being the kind of person to plan ahead of things, had already bought his gift for Tine a month ago, knowing that their first year anniversary was somewhere during the following month. Present Sarawat internally thanked past Sarawat for being like that. The gift wasn't much, an empty black and white photo album for Tine to fill with the photos he took on his camera. He had bought one two months prior and took it with them on every date and almost every time he went outside. Sarawat always wanted to see the pictures he took, but Tine was always too shy to show them. He hoped that, through this photo album, he would become confident on his photography skills to have them displayed somewhere, even if it's in a really basic photo album that cost a little bit too much than expected. He did request the shop to add a 'S + T' on the cover, so maybe that didn't help.

Sarawat went to check where he kept it and he saw it was safe and still wrapped in that dinosaurs wrapping paper he had found laying around some boxes back when they first moved in. Okay, now it was time to go downstairs.

As he saw Tine from afar laying down on their sofa, a soft smile couldn't help but show up on his lips. Tine's eyes were fixed on one of the dumb American dramas he watched religiously and didn't seem to have noticed Sarawat had even woken up. Sarawat decided that the best way to make his presence known was to throw himself on top of Tine, and so he did.

"Saraleo!" Tine screamed as he was crushed by his wet-haired boyfriend. Sarawat laughed and hugged Tine's chest tight. He kissed Tine's t-shirt right above where his heart was and looked at him, supporting his chin in Tine's chest.

"Good morning to you too, babe," Sarawat could feel how fast that made Tine's heart beat and he smiled. Pet names and their effect on Tine, he would never get tired of that.

"Hm, good morning, babe," Tine's ears were a bright red and he could still feel Tine's heart racing, but now his was racing too.

His smile grew even more. "That's my boy," Sarawat gave Tine a kiss on his chin. Tine apparently didn't like that, because he had a pout on his lips. Sarawat raised his eyebrows. Tine pouting was a rare thing, as he only did it when Sarawat didn't give him something, and it was kind of a universal rule that Sarawat would give everything to Tine in a heartbeat if he asked.

Now was one of the little times where Tine pouted and it melted Sarawat's cold, soft heart. It wasn't fair, Tine was so fucking pretty already, how could he also be this cute? It made no sense.

He was too pretty and too cute for his own good, so Sarawat chose to tease him.

He got close enough to kiss him, and when Tine closed his eyes, he kissed his nose.

Tine opened his eyes and he looked like Sarawat had just betrayed him. He's so dramatic.

Tine pouted once again. "Alright, alright, I'll kiss you. Someone's needy today, huh?" Sarawat once again got close to Tine enough for Tine to close his eyes, and kissed the corner of his lips. Tine frowned and opened his eyes, held Sarawat's face in between his hands and kissed him. Tine wasn't really the one who started the kisses, but the one who made them continue for hours, so moments like this where Tine started the kiss (and such a needy one) made Sarawat feel like he was in heaven.

They kissed for what seemed like hours, Sarawat's tongue exploring Tine's lips and his mouth like it was the first time he did that. Tine sucking on Sarawat's tongue and making Sarawat think unholy thoughts at way too early in the day. He sucked on Tine's lower lip, fully knowing that affected him even more than the pet names he threw around, and gladly took his gasp as another chance to explore Tine's mouth with his tongue. His stomach had other plans, growling loudly and making Tine smile. Sarawat tried ignoring it, but another sound came seconds later and Tine broke the kiss with a laugh.

If anyone asked Sarawat how he liked Tine the most, he would say right now, post-make out with slightly bruised lips and glossy from how many times Sarawat had run his tongue along them, smiling because of Sarawat. Tine was a view Sarawat knew he would never get tired of.

"Wat, just go eat something. We can continue later," Tine's voice was low and it truly didn't help that they had just kissed like that, Tine was making his mind and heart race.

Sarawat hid his face on Tine's neck and groaned. God damn it, stomach, Sarawat thought. Why now?

He left a kiss on Tine's neck and made a move to get up, only for Tine to get him back down and kiss him one more time on the lips.

"Okay, now you can go," Sarawat smiled and quickly pecked Tine before getting up, his stomach making another sound and making Tine laugh again.

---------

It was almost 10 in the evening when they decided to sit on their little balcony.

The balcony in their house wasn't as big the one Tine had back in his old dorm, but it made do for the few times they decided to come outside and play the guitar until they got tired or cold. Sarawat found it a perfect moment for giving Tine his gift, so when he went upstairs to get his guitar, he hid the photo album behind the the guitar as best as he could and he went downstairs.

What he didn't expect was that he'd find a red rose between Tine's fingers.

The twelfth rose.

Tine looked at him as soon as he passed through the door and just one look at him could tell him how nervous he was. Sarawat was nervous as well, he knew what that rose meant, but he did his best not to show it at all. He tried to give Tine a comforting smile, and it looked like it worked a bit because Tine's face softened a bit.

Sarawat sat next to him and tried his best to keep the photo album between his body and the guitar. The borders hurt a bit but he had no other way of hiding the present until the moment was right.

To distract himself from the slight pain and to calm Tine (and himself) down, he started playing Together by Scrubb. He knew this song's chords by heart by now, having heard the song on all the Scrubb concerts he had gone to back then to look for that beautiful boy, and he having played the song for said beautiful boy at least a thousand times since they both knew of each other. So much time had passed since then, so many good and bad memories came to mind when he thought of the Sarawat who had gotten his foot stepped on and his heart stolen at the same time. Tine had changed so much too, Sarawat noticed it at times. He liked some of the groups Sarawat listened to and even went to concerts of bands Sarawat didn't know of by himself or with his friends, he ate things only Sarawat used to, he wore more shades of dark clothes but still never leaving those pink shirts and sweaters that made him look like the cutest person on the world. They both changed in such a short amount of time, and Sarawat liked to think it was for the better.

The last chords of the song brought him to the present with a still very visibly nervous look on him.

"Tine-" "Wat-"

"You say it first," Tine told him, playing with the rose's stem.

Sarawat hesitated, but Tine looked too nervous to start speaking so he did. "Tine, is everything okay? You look a bit out of it. Want me to get you a blanket?"

Tine shaked his head. "I'm fine, Wat." Sarawat, of course, wasn't convinced.

"Are you sure?" Sarawat asked.

Tine nodded, "Yes, Wat, I'm fine. Don't worry that much, it's gonna make you look old."

Sarawat laughed and they fell in a comfortable silence.

"Wat?" Tine asked quietly.

Sarawat looked at him. He looked nervous once again and it unconsciously made Sarawat nervous too. "Yes?"

Tine took a deep breath. "Aren't you curious as to why I gave you roses for these past 11 days?" "You know I am, Tine, I asked at least twice every day these past two weeks," a little smile showed up on Tine's lips.

"Yeah," Tine chuckled, "you haven't asked today yet."

"Well, if you insist Mr. Teepakorn, may I know the meaning behind all these beautiful roses Mr. Teepakorn has been giving his really amazing boyfriend for 11 days in a row?" Tine's smile grew as he lightly pushed Sarawat with his shoulder.

"So dramatic, Mr. Guntithanon." Tine chuckled. "But you are right. Mr. Teepakorn's boyfriend sure is really amazing."

Sarawat smiled. "I'm sure Mr. Teepakorn is even more amazing."

A light blush appeared on Tine's cheeks. "Shut up, I'm trying to tell you something and you're distracting me."

"Then I won't speak until you're finished, deal?"

"As if that ever stopped you," Tine smiled. "Deal."

Sarawat made a gesture that mimicked zipping his mouth and allowed Tine to speak.

"You know how sometimes I'm not the best at words and I can't express myself as well as I would like to?" Sarawat nodded. He knew Tine struggled with that, but he had been trying to get better and he was really proud of his boyfriend for doing so. "Well, this was one of them. Do you know what roses mean and what they symbolize?" Sarawat shaked his head even though he knew already, he didn't want to explain to Tine how he knew. "My mom explained it to me when I was little and it amazed me. I never knew flowers were more than beautiful plants, I never knew they could be so much more than that, that each one of them had their own thing. The red rose was always my favourite. It means love, any kind of it. I always wished I could give one of them to my partner, to show them much I loved them. To show them my true feelings," Sarawat's heart melted. Tine was such a romanticist at heart and he found it so cute.

"Knowing you, I guess you can already see where this is going." Tine took a deep breath and turned to Sarawat. He handed him the rose, "For you, the last rose."

Sarawat was speechless. His boyfriend, who he loved with his whole heart since the moment he first saw him, loved him back.

Sarawat felt like he could cry. He probably already was and hadn't noticed.

He took the rose and smiled at his boyfriend. "Can I speak now?"

Tine chuckled. "Yeah, you can."

"Tine?"

"Yeah?"

Sarawat took a deep breath and smiled. "I love you, too."

Tine's eyes widened a bit and if Sarawat wasn't seeing wrong, they looked a bit glassy.

"I have ever since I met you, ever since I first saw you. You stole my heart that day at the Scrubb's concert and it's been yours ever since."

And now Sarawat was sure he had seen a tear roll down Tine's cheek. He used his thumb to get rid of it and another one fell down his other cheek.

"I love you, Wat. I truly do," Tine gave him one of the smiles he reserved for these moments with Sarawat, and Sarawat could've easily been in heaven right now, because he felt like no one that bright and beautiful couldn't be a human.

"I know, Tine, I know," Sarawat smiled back at him and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

A comfortable silence fell between them, Tine resting his head on Sarawat's shoulder and one of Sarawat's arms around Tine's waist. The only thing making any kind of noise being the wind swirling and the cars on their street.

"I do have a question, though." Sarawat broke the silence.

"Ask then."

"Why 12? Why not 10 or only 1?"

Tine took a bit of time to answer, Sarawat leaving Tine sort his thoughts out before having a good answer.

"Well, for starters, 12 roses is the usual 'I love you' bouquet," the butterflies on Sarawat's stomach fluttered at Tine saying I love you so casually, "and we've been dating for a year already, so it seemed convenient to give you one for every month we've been dating."

Sarawat nodded, it sounded rational. "Happy first year together anniversary, by the way. I kind of forgot to tell between the giving you the rose and the tears," Tine giggled.

"It's okay," Sarawat kissed the top of Tine's head. "Speaking about that, I have something for you."

Tine raised his head from Sarawat's shoulder and looked at him with confusion clear in his eyes. "For me?" Sarawat nodded. He moved the guitar and left it carefully on the floor, the dinosaur wrapped gift on full view and his ribs finally freed from the pain the edges gave them.

"Happy first year together anniversary to you too," he put the gift on Tine's lap and waited for him to open it.

Once Tine got rid of the wrapping paper, he stared at the cover. It was all black with a white S + T on the top part. Tine looked at him like he was asking him if those letters meant their names, so Sarawat nodded. Tine started to look through the photo album, only to find it empty except for the one photo Sarawat had added on the first page. Their first ever photo together, back when Sarawat didn't really understand Scrubb's songs and Tine wasn't as interested in Sarawat. Tine was wearing that ridiculous wig and those enormous fake ears. Even then, Sarawat thought he looked good.

Tine looked at him even more confused than before, and it was Sarawat's time to explain. "I know you're wondering why it's empty, and that's because I want you to fill it with what you want to remember the most. I know you take a lot of photos on your camera, but I haven't seen a single one, so I don't know what you find beauty in. I started it with our picture because it seemed fitting to have a photo of us in it as it's the gift I'm giving you for being being with me, but you can fill it with whatever and whoever you want. Think of it as a happy memories dump."

"What do you think of it?" Tine was looking at him like he had hung the moon for him and it made him blush a little bit.

"I fucking love you, Wat."

Sarawat's blush brightened and the butterflies returned to flapping uncontrollably in his stomach. "I guess you liked it?" Sarawat smiled. "I love you too, Tine."

Sarawat got closer to Tine's face and Tine, wanting to kiss him as much as seemed to, closed the distance between them.

It had taken them a few months of knowing each other and a whole year of dating, but they had finally those three little words.

I love you.

[flamehairedwritings]

Lost In Hawkins

FOR HALLOWE’EN 2019

Characters: Chief Jim Hopper x Female Reader

Words: 9,719, phew

Rating: M, 16+ ONLY

A/N: This story is inspired by the wonderful ITV series ‘Lost In Austen’, an idea I’ve had for a while and my own fantasies, tbh. Crack? AU? Angst? All of them? What is genre?

Tags include: Swearing, lots of it, and mentions of a drink being drugged.

Summary: Your Hallowe’en night takes an unexpected turn.

Masterlist

Please don’t copy, steal or repost my work; credit does not count.

“Get the fuck away from me, you shitting shit-bag.”

“Jesus, Meg—”

“No, I am not having a heart-attack tonight.”

You purse your lips slightly in an effort to stop a smile as she all but bares her teeth at the poor teenager dressed as a clown, decidedly less scarier than when he’d jumped out at you both with his now stunned expression.

Nearly growling, she pushes through plastic sheets and you follow after her, secretly delighted when she finds the nearest exit and you step out into fresh, open air.

“God, don’t people know what personal space is anymore?”

Manoeuvring past a group of smokers, Meg blows out a long breath as you adjust your corset, stepping towards the only nearest free space on the worn grass.

You hum in agreement as you join her. “I think a space capacity code is being violated here.”

“You can say that again.”

The cool air of the night feels wonderful, the Fun House having been stifling with sweat, paint and something you don’t want to know having filled the air. Pulling the white blouse off your shoulders from where it has ridden up, you turn to her with a nostalgic sigh.

“Remember when we used to just throw sheets on, walk around the block to get free candy and then be in bed by 8?”

“Yeah. Those were the days,” Meg also sighs, folding her arms with a wistful smile. “But, hey, this is what happens when you get peer pressured by colleagues.”

“Well, I was ready and raring for this two hours ago and now I’m just... tired.”

“I think we’re old now, darling.”

“I’m ready to accept it.”

“Me, too.” Huffing out another breath, she casts her gaze around. “I only really wanted to come because Elvira’s here.”

You arch an eyebrow. “That’s not been confirmed.”

“It has.”

“By who?”

“Aaron.”

“Aaron Watkins? He once told me moose aren’t real.”

“He said that when we were sixteen.”

“Far too old an age to be saying things like that.”

“He was joking... I hope.”

“He certainly wasn’t joking.” Clearing your throat, you shiver lightly and rub your arms, the once welcomed cool air now just cold. “Anyway, I think I’m gonna head home.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I think the week’s caught up with me.”

“All right, how are you gonna get home?”

“Well, I can’t afford a taxi so I’ll get the bus.”

“Do you want to die?” Meg gapes at you incredulously.

“If I die on Hallowe’en, don’t I get to walk the Earth on this day every year? How fun.”

“I’d rather you walked it 365 days a year. I will give you money for a cab.”

“No, Meg, c’mon,” you protest, shaking your head as she reaches for her purse. “It’s going to cost too much, it’s too far. I’ll get the bus, there’ll be other people on it, it’s a busy night, and I’ll text you every five minutes, I promise.”

“Fine. but text me discreetly,” she orders as she pulls you in for a hug. “I don’t want people seeing you with your phone out and then wanting to steal it. And call me when you get off the bus and you’re walking home, I mean it.”

“I will, I will. Love you.” You beam at her as she finally releases you.

“Love you, too. Please don’t die.”

Thankfully, the bus stop was only a little further up the road from the entrance to the carnival grounds. Other people seemed to have had the same idea as you, too, the stop somewhat crowded with families, the kids already asleep, teenagers chattering excitedly about their next destination, and some exceedingly tired people your age, muffling yawns and chewing sweets. 

When your bus had arrived it was already half-full but you managed to find a seat on the ground level at the back, sitting beside a teenager who doesn’t look at you, their hood up, headphones on.

Perfect. No possible way of someone initiating a conversation here.

The bus had trundled along slowly, stopping at seemingly every stop known to man, and people had trickled off until now, when it’s just you, an older lady near the front on the ground floor and possibly people on the upper floor.

The bus slows to a halt on a well-lit road, and you know you’re only a few stops away from your own, relief filling you.

I’m going for you, pyjamas.

The older lady shuffles off the bus and you hear someone descending from the top of the stairs, instinctive curiosity making you lift your gaze to see who it is.

It’s Barb from Stranger Things.

Except it’s not because she doesn’t exist, but the teenager looks exactly like her, complete with the perfect hair-style, glasses and outfit. They catch your eye and you smile. They smile back but it seems more out of reflex than genuine want to.

Stop staring, you look like a weirdo.

Once they’re off the bus, the doors close and the bus moves on. As it pulls away from the curb, you just can’t stop yourself from looking at ‘Barb’. They stand on the pavement, facing the road, waiting for the bus to pass, their hands in their pockets.

Just amazing. Absolutely uncanny.

You feel slightly bad that you didn’t compliment the person on their work, they obviously worked hard, but then again, you’re at the back of the bus and they probably wouldn’t have appreciated you yelling out to them, even if it was out of the goodness of your heart. They looked a little... sad, though, so maybe it would have cheered them up.

Facing the front again, you glance down at your phone and press the button to unlock it, wanting to tell Meg.

The screen remains blank.

You frown and press it again.

Nothing.

You definitely know it was at 78% when you last—

The screen lights up, pure white for a moment, then your lock-screen appears, complete with picture, the correct time, and the notifications you’d been ignoring.

Huh. Weird.

You don’t think too much on it, your phone does tend to glitch occasionally.

The light above you flickers, then so do the others, and your gaze darts up to watch them. In a line, one after the other, they go out, then shine brightly once more after a second.

... Right.

The bus slows, the last one before your own and, again, relief washes over you.

Not long now, so close—

“Last stop, lady.”

Your eyes snap to the bus driver, who’s leaning out of his seat to look at you.

“What? No, this isn’t the end of the line.”

There’s an edge to your tone, one you wouldn’t usually have with a public services worker if it wasn’t pitch-black outside and some lights flickering hadn’t just freaked you out a bit more than you’d like to admit.

He shrugs. “Sorry, I’m gonna run out of fuel.”

Ah, so that might explain the lights, then. That’s how it works... maybe.

“Is there another bus coming to finish the route?”

“At this time of night? Hell no.”

Oh my God.

You stare at him. “... What am I supposed to do, then?”

He shrugs again. “It isn’t that far to the end of the line.”

You can hear how desperate you are. “Couldn’t you take me some of the way?”

“Nah, station’s the other direction, I’d break down.”

Right, so this is a me problem.

Huffing and knowing you’re not going to win at all, you grab your bag and march down to the front of the bus, wrestling with your conscience that you can’t yell at him because it’s not his fault and you hate when customers yell at you when something isn’t your fault but also this is kind of his fault maybe in some way but it also isn’t and—

“Fine. Fine,” you mutter as you step off the bus before quickly turning to him. “I’m not the kind of person to do this, but I’m going to send the company a rather shitty email in the morning.”

“All right, miss.” Not one ounce of sympathy or care on his expression.

Clenching your jaw, you step back as the doors close and he pulls away, making you realise you were the only person left on the bus.

Right. No one else to rant with or pair up with and be safe with.

Okay, you know where you are, it’s not that far to home, you have perfume in your bag you can use as a kind of pepper spray, and you can call Meg. Scanning the area and pulling your phone out, you unlock it and type out a message to Meg.

Just my luck, bus running out of gas so had to get off and now walking. *skull emoji*. Isn’t this how horror films start?

Sending it, you glance up again to check for anyone before quickly typing and sending:

Can I call you?

Lifting your head, you’re about to lock your phone when it vibrates. Looking down at the screen, you frown.

‘Message unable to send. Try again.’ it reads next to ‘Can I call you?’

You tap ‘Try again’.

The message reappears a moment later.

‘Message unable to send. Try again.’

What the—

You look at the signal bars and—

No signal.

What the hell?

The first message was able to send and you haven’t even moved so how the hell hasn’t the second? You’ve never not had signal in this area.

Exhaling a frustrated breath, the cold night air helps you decide you can ruminate on it later. Heading down the path next to the woods that leads home, you blow out another, quiet breath and shove your phone into your bag. 

Maybe in a few steps it’ll be okay.

You glance to the side, eyeing the woods.

Do not think about ghosts and ghouls, do not freak yourself out, do not be a bitch to yourself.

You quicken your pace, staring ahead.

It’s quiet. Quieter than usual. Usually there’s crickets chirping or an owl hooting or cars passing but... nothing.

The street lights are out, too, and you contemplate using your phone’s torch.

No. Don’t signal your whereabouts to... anyone.

like...

murderers...

... shit ...

... Just like the white winged dove, Sings a song, Sounds like she's singing, Who, who, who

Singing loudly in your head always helped to calm you. Keeping your gaze directly ahead, you continue, reminding yourself you’re only ten minutes from home.

Just like the white winged dove, Sings a song, Sounds like she's singing, Oh baby oh said oh ,

Ten minutes until you’re home. Then you can get out of this costume, have something to eat and go to sleep.

And the days go by Like a strand in the wind In the web that is my own

I begin again

Said to my friend, baby Nothin' else mattered

Maybe you’ll watch a few episodes of something you don’t have to think too hard about.

He was no more than a baby then Well he seemed broken hearted Something within him

Or maybe a bath, ooh, a bath sounds great, why did you wear these shoes, well, you didn’t think you’d be walking ages in them.

But the moment that I first laid Eyes on him—

The sound of a dull, muffled explosion echoes across the forest.

You cry out in fright as you freeze, your head whipping to the side instinctively to find the source.

Oh my God... what the fuck was that...

Your gaze darts about, and a breeze suddenly washes over you, as if pushed in your direction but that’s impossible because there’s been no wind all night and there’s none now, it’s just gone—

An orange light flickers amongst the trees, not too far away.

It’s just a flash light.

It’s just some kids playing around.

You stare at it.

It’s not moving.

It’s just kids playing about.

They’re probably setting off fireworks and one went wrong.

Then how come I can’t hear voices.

Shit, are they hurt?

Concern takes over from fear as you narrow your eyes, trying to look for any signs of movement at all. Nothing.

Check.

Go and look.

People could be hurt.

Reaching your hand into your bag, you pull your phone out and glance down.

One bar.

Fuck, yes.

Dialling the emergency services, you find that one tiny bar has given you confidence, and you stride towards the light.

It’s not until you’re a few feet away that you realise it’s not a flash light.

It’s not until you’re a few feet away that you realise your phone is still dialling and hasn’t connected, a crackling sound taking over.

It’s not until it’s too late that you realise the light is drawing you in and you can’t look away from it, can’t stop walking.

It’s not until it’s too late that you realise you can’t hear or see anything.

It’s not until you’re walking through the light that you realise you’re going to die.

The last thought you have is:

Oh my God, I’m going to fucking die in a shitty pirate costume.

You’re falling.

How is that possible?

Wait, you can’t see anything and your stomach isn’t dropping like it should do when you fall and— Holy fucking shit, yes it is, now it is, holy fuck, you’re going to be sick, what the fuck—

You land face down on something damp with a grunted ‘oof’’. Groaning, your head spinning, your hands move out slowly and you feel you’re on something solid. Squishy, but solid. Pushing yourself up, your arms shake slightly as you lift your head, blinking several times.

Glancing around, you find you’re still in the woods.

What the hell...

I must have tripped.

What the hell did I trip on?

Looking over your shoulder, you just see leaves on the ground.

Was there a rock hidden under all that? Yeah, that’s what it must have been.

Pushing yourself up with a groan, you brush the leaves and twigs from you, tutting at the streaks of mud across your costume.

I hope this bloody comes out or— Hang on a fucking second.

Turning quickly, you freeze.

Where the hell is that light?

You scan the area, still frozen.

... You must have imagined it. Or knocked it over. Or...

Just go home.

Turning, you start striding off.

Am I going in the right direction? I don’t care. Just get away from this area. No, get your phone out and Google Map it to see where—

There’s a road. Just up ahead. The trees thinning out.

Right. We’re back on track, this is where I was before, didn’t realise I was so close but hey, ho...

Striding towards it, you emerge out of the woods and stop abruptly.

Where’s the pavement?

You look one way, then the other.

... Is this a new road? Has it always been here?

It’s been a while since you walked through the woods but surely you’d have noticed if they’d been doing road works to create a new one... Unless...

Oh my God, am I concussed? This is the last thing I need.

You start walking before you realise it. Heading left down the road. You’re near to your neighbourhood. It has to be this way.

Google Maps.

Fumbling with your bag, you open it and pull your phone out, pressing the button to unlock the screen. Nothing.

Oh, not again, please...

You press it again, then again, then again, then again.

Still... nothing.

Right, don’t get upset, you’ll be fine, one way or another you’ll end up in your neighbourhood of the next one over, so at least you’ll know where you are.

You shove your phone back in to your bag and fold your arms tightly. It’s so damn cold. Why didn’t you just stay at home tonight.

You stare down the road. You don’t recognise a thing.

Everything looks different at night. You’ll be okay.

Bright headlights suddenly appear at your feet, growing larger as you hear a vehicle approach.

It slows as it nears.

Right, I’m either going to be murdered or get directions.

Steeling yourself, you also slow as it nears.

Here we go.

Turning, you’re blinded for a moment as the headlights hit your eyes. Squinting and shielding them, the vehicle, a car, pulls to a stop beside you.

Oh. Not just any car. A police car, apparently.

The window rolls down and a man pops his head out.

“You okay there, ma’am?”

“Yep. I’m fine, thank you.”

You’re not, but it’s an automatic response. He seems to know you’re not, casting a glance over you... and as he sizes you up, you size him up.

You recognise him.

You don’t know how, you’ve never had a conversation with a police officer before. Not knowingly, anyway. Maybe he’s a regular customer, or you’ve just seen him around.

“Where are you heading, ma’am?”

“Home.”

Why am I being questioned.

“And where’s home?”

“Hanover Street.”

He stares at you.

“Hanover Street?”

“Yeah.”

He’s still staring.

“Whereabouts is that, ma’am?”

God, you’re a rubbish cop.

“Just around the corner from The Lion and The Unicorn.”

“Right.” He looks you over again, frowning. “Have you been out this evening, ma’am?”

You frown in return, unease starting to creep up. “Yes.”

“Right.” Meeting your gaze, he then opens the car door and steps out, and your stomach drops. “Ma’am, if you’d just like to get in the car...”

Oh my God, this is the last thing I need.

You open your mouth, then close it because you are not about to argue with a police officer right now. Stifling an irritated sigh, you climb into the car as he opens the door behind his.

On the bright side, I might get a ride home.

You do not get a ride home.

The officer is silent as he drives, occasionally glancing in the rear-view mirror to look at you. You pretend not to notice, your own gaze darting down to your concealed phone every now and then. Still no signal.

I can’t wait until I find this hilarious.

The ride only takes a couple of minutes before you realise you’ve reached his destination. The police station.

You don’t recognise it, but then again you’ve never had a reason to go to the station.

You didn’t know the station was so close, though.

Once the officer parks up, he opens the door for you and waits for you to step out before gently instructing you to follow him. You obey.

The station is busy, phones ringing and people walking up and down.

Well, it is Hallowe’en.

Slightly overwhelmed and tired and maybe perhaps a little frightened, you do as you’re told, sitting at a desk the officer points at. You hold your bag on your lap, your shoulders slightly hunched.

You only have to wait a few moments before another officer takes a seat opposite you, not looking at you as he greets you with a weary ‘Good evening’.

Hang on. You recognise this officer, too. Maybe he’s also a customer. Not important right now.

“Right...” he slaps a notepad down in front of him and takes a pen from his shirt pocket before finally looking at you. “... What were you doing walking down a dark road on your own, miss?”

“Uh...” Just tell the truth, you haven’t done anything wrong. “I was walking home.”

“Nobody wanted to give you a ride?”

He’s making notes and you can’t help but stare at his pen moving.

“Uh, no, well, there was no one to give me a ride, I got the bus but then I had to get off ‘cause it was running out of fuel, but it’s not far to my home so it’s not too far a walk.”

“And home is Hanover Street?”

“Yeah.”

“Right.”

The fact he’s conversed with the other officer makes you nervous.

Please don’t obsess about what they might have said.

“Around the corner from The Lion and The Unicorn?”

“Yeah.”

Too late, you’re obsessing.

“And what is that, miss?”

You can’t stop yourself from frowning.

“It’s the pub, it’s only probably about five minutes away from here.”

“Right.”

The way he says it makes you feel like you’re wrong, but you can’t be, you’ve been to that pub a thousand times before. You might not have recognised the road you were on, but as it was in your woods you know the pub is close by.

“And why were you by the woods, miss? Seems a bit dangerous for this time of night.”

“Oh, well...”

Do you tell the truth? Oh, yes, deflect from whatever it is you seem to have done wrong.

You sit up a little straighter, slightly more confident now because you have vital information. “... I heard an explosion in the woods.”

His pen pauses as his gaze snaps up to you. “An explosion?”

“Yeah. It sounded quite quiet.”

Gazing at you, his eyes then lift to something behind you. “Hey, Flo, we heard anything tonight about an explosion?”

A woman wearing large glasses passes by the desk. “No, honey, just drunks and people calling about the poor boy.”

“All right.” The officer raises his eyebrows slightly, then looks to you. Then he frowns. “Hey, you all right?”

You’re staring at the woman’s back, frozen.

Oh my God. Oh my God... Flo.

“Miss—”

“What the hell is going on here?”

Your tone and suddenly sharp gaze takes him aback slightly, but he recovers swiftly.

“Excuse me?”

You stare at Flo again, then back to him.

“What is going on here?”

“Miss, how much have you had to drink tonight?”

You would have been offended by the question if your mind wasn’t racing. Your racing mind also doesn’t give you a chance to really think about what to say in return.

“Not a lot. Four cocktails.”

“Four?”

“2-4-1, all day, every day.” You’re practically trying to stare him down now, trying to make him crack. “What is going on?”

He changes tact, clasping his hands together on the desk. “You’re being questioned because you were found wandering alone on the side of the road, and you seem somewhat disorientated.”

Yes, I’m fucking disorientated.

You place your finger on the desk. “This is, this is Hawkins Police Station.”

He doesn’t react. “Yes.”

“From Stranger Things.”

Now he reacts, his eyebrows raising a fraction.

“... Miss, have you taken any narcotics this evening?”

“No.” You can’t stop yourself from lowering your voice. “Am I being pranked right now?”

His voice is suddenly gentler. “Do you have someone we could call?”

You just stare at him, trying to find an inkling of something on his features.

The joke should have ended by now, surely.

Your anger starts to turn to agitation. “May I go?”

He’s looking at you sympathetically which isn’t good at all. “Do you have someone we could call to come and pick you up?”

Your eyes dart about the station.

Everything is exactly like it is on the show. There’s no way this is a set up. How could it all have been set up? You fell in the forest and suddenly there was a road that had never been there before, an entire sound-stage and the exact actors?

Nausea washes over you as you swallow hard.

“Can I have some water, please?”

“Yeah, sure.” He rises, his gaze lingering on you, before he walks around you.

Exhaling a long breath, you stare down at your bag.

I think I just need to sober up. Probably more drunk than I realised I was. Or I’m concussed.

You close your eyes.

Shit, shit, shit, think. How can I think when I don’t know what the fuck is going on? How is this possible, what the fuck is going on, oh, God, don’t faint, don’t faint—

Your eyes open as you hear him return and a glass of water appears before you. You instantly grab it, taking a long sip. Your hand shakes slightly as you set it back down.

He sits down again, a troubled expression on his features as he watches you. “Sure you’re all right?”

Oh, no.

Don’t do it.

“Uhm...”

Don’t you do it.

“... I think...”

Don’t you dare.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Oh, shit—”

You make it just in time. Turning your head, your body lurches forward as you bend at the waist and throw up in to the waste bin by his desk. You close your eyes tightly as you vomit again, hearing people around you.

“Oh, Jesus, Flo, can we have some paper towels, please?”

“Someone’s havin’ a rough night, huh?”

Oh, no.

Oh, fuck.

Oh, no, this isn’t possible.

Lifting your head as you inhale a shaking breath, not thinking to wipe your mouth, you look up and meet the gaze of Chief Jim Hopper.

His frown is the last thing you see before you pass out.

Ah, unconsciousness.

Oh, no, not unconsciousness because you’re having a thought. A thought that unconsciousness is nice. Uncomplicated.

There’s a weight on your shoulder, a gentle weight. Slowly opening your eyes, you gaze up at the faces of three people.

Oh, fuck off.

Flo, the officer, Powell, you remember his name now, and... and Hopper.

David Harbour. Hopper.

I hope I pass out again.

You don’t, forcing you to realise you were only unconscious for probably a minute or so as you’re still on the floor.

Oh, God, it’s still happening.

“Hey, you okay?”

You look to David/Hopper.

I hate this.

I’ve masturbated thinking about you.

Oh my God, stop it.

“Yeah... yeah... Can you... Can you back off, please?”

“Uh, yeah.”

All three of them move away and stand as you push yourself up, wincing slightly. Nobody apparently caught you because there’s a dull ache at the back of your head.

Brilliant. Concussion on top of concussion, probably.

You know you won’t be sick again but you feel so overwhelmed, like you can’t breathe.

“I need some air.”

Powell, thankfully, speaks this time. “You wanna take a walk?”

“Yeah, on my own. I’ll be fine.” You’re already walking towards the exit.

Then, David/Hopper is at your side, pushing the door open for you. “Nah, can’t let you do that on you’re own.”

You take extra care to not be one inch closer to him than you need to be as you pass through the door. Stepping out, once again, into the welcome, cold night air, you inhale a deep breath. You can’t look at him.

“Am I under arrest?”

“No, we’re just concerned.”

The parking lot is quiet, half empty, small. You start to pace, still unable to look at him.

“I’m fine.”

“Is there anyone who could come and get you?”

I’d love it if everyone would stop asking me that.

“I—” Just play along, don’t look at him, don’t do it. “No.”

“Where do you live?”

“i, uhm, I don’t live here, I’m just visiting a friend.” Nice cover.

“Do you know the address?”

Oh, shit.

“No.”

“Do—”

 “Hop, come on, we gotta go, there’s a fight at McCorley’s.”

You lift your head to see Powell, calling out to Hopper/David, heading for a truck. 

You can’t stop yourself from glancing at Hopper.

God.

Season 1 Hopper.

You’ve missed the stubble.

Stop it.

“Shit. Hang on,” Hopper/David answers before turning back to you, a frown returning to his features. “Do you know the neighbourhood where your friend lives?”

“No.”

“Right.” ‘Real helpful’, you can practically hear him thinking. He raises his eyebrows and holds his hand out in a stay put gesture. “Stay here until we get back, all right?”

You nod, still unable to meet his gaze, swinging your arms slightly. “Yep, okay.”

He watches you for a moment, then nods, turning and striding away to his Blazer.

You stand still, watching as he gets in, starts the engine, then reverses and drives away. As soon as he’s out of sight, you’re moving. Where, you have absolutely no idea.

This isn’t real. This cannot be real.

You can feel the ground beneath your feet as you head down the main road and a light breeze on your face but it can’t be real.

Unless...

That was it. 

Someone’s drugged my drink. I don’t know when or how, I bought all my own drinks and didn’t put them down once, but someone has, that’s the only explanation. I’m having a very, very, very vivid hallucination and I’m actually walking around my house right now.

You suddenly come to an abrupt halt.

What am I supposed to do, then.

Like anything, you suppose; sleep it off.

But where?

Are you even in your house? You could be in the forest, that’s when you’d seen that damn light and that’s probably when the drugs had hit. Rubbing at your forehead, you blow out a breath and close your eyes. You’re starting to get a headache and you have no idea what’s going on and you just—

Stop it, take a breath.

Inhaling and exhaling three long, slow breaths, you lift your head and open your eyes.

Yep. still here.

But, there, a short walk away, you see the centre of Hawkins, lights shining brightly in the darkness.

Sleep it off.

Sleep it off.

Motel. There has to be one.

Moving forward, you’re striding now.

Play along with the hallucination, just play it out. This could all just be in your head.

Oh, God, I hope this is all in my head.

What the hell am I doing.

Coming to a halt, you groan as you bend over, your hands on your knees, your eyes closed.

Please don’t be sick again.

Or do, it’ll give me something to do.

“Excuse me, dear?”

Oh, God, what now...

Straightening up, you lift your head and find Flo, the actual Flo, standing a few feet behind you, her hands clasped together. She raises her eyebrows expectantly.

“Uh... I was just... going.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yep.” Why am I crumbling under her gaze.

“Chief let you go did he?”

“Yep.” Oh, God, this is a criminal offence. She definitely knows I’m lying.

“Where are you goin’ to? Remember where your friend lives?”

“Uh, no, I was just... I was going to find a motel.”

“Like hell you are in your state.” She drops her arms and gestures for you to return. “Come on. I got a spare room.”

“Uh...” You stare at her, not really knowing what to do. “... I could be a serial killer, you know.”

She eyes you. “Nah, you ain’t.”

Then, she turns and starts walking back to the station.

... Right. 

You follow after her. 

Because what the hell else is there to do.

Flo had said if you needed anything, to let her know.

Oh, Flo. Oh, Flo, even you can’t help with this.

Holding the blankets up against your chest, you stare up at the ceiling. 

This is mad. This is bizarre. But it’s real.

That much you’ve come to terms with.

You’ve seen enough TV shows and films to have some sort of an inkling of what’s going on.

You’ve gone through some sort of a dimension.

That, or you’re part of a prank show you’ve never heard of. 

The former seems more likely than the latter, though. Your friends would never put you up for a prank show because they know you’d hate it. and you’re not aware of having an arch-enemy. So, you’ve passed into another dimension. A dimension that houses the land of your favourite TV show.

Right. So. What’s the plan, then.

Sleep, get up in the morning, rifle through the bags of clothes Flo said you could, find something to wear, then go back to the woods and find the portal back.

A snort escapes you.

I can’t believe I’m actually thinking about portals and dimensions and how to get back to my own world. And now i’m laughing about it. I’m delirious. Maybe I will just wake up and this will all be something other than real. That would be amazing.

Closing your eyes, you pull the blankets up a little higher.

This is the weirdest night of my life. And possibly the comfiest bed I’ve ever slept in. Silver linings.

You’d followed after Flo, dutifully, like a good law-abiding citizen, even if you are in a different world, and gotten into her car.

She’d asked you a few basic questions as she drove; your name, if you were hungry, how you were feeling. You answered truthfully, still absolutely baffled by the bizarreness of the situation.

Once at her home, you’d not had much of a chance to look at where the actual Flo lives as she’d led you straight to the guest room, having told her you weren’t hungry but tired.

Add overwhelmed and incredibly confused to that.

That’s where you now find yourself.

Closing your eyes, you want to make a plan but you also don’t want to think too much about what is happening right now because you think your brain might actually explode.

Just sleep.

Just sleep, maybe this is all actually a dream.

That would be amazing.

You’re awoken what feels like only three seconds later by the bedroom door opening and knocking against the chest of drawers beside it.

Your eyes snap open and your head shoots up.

Flo stands in the doorway, already dressed, smiling at you warmly.

“Good morning, sweetie. Up you get, I’ve got breakfast ready.”

Your head drops back down as she, leaving the door open, heads back to the kitchen, your arms covering your eyes.

Oh, God. This is still real.

Rolling out of bed, you shuffle over to the bin bags in the corner, untying and rifling through them for an outfit. A dress and leggings come out in your size so you quickly tug them on, pull your boots back on, and shove your costume and bag into a tote bag you came across.

Breakfast with Flo is... interesting. 

She asks essentially what you’d been asked the night before, why you are in town, who you’re staying with, what their number is, if you’d like to call any family or friends.

You manage to deflect each one, saying you’ll be fine, you can’t remember your friend’s number or where they live, your family don’t know your friends number so it wouldn’t help.

Taking your empty plate away once you’re done, Flo places them in the sink and claps her hands together. “Well, come on, then I’ll take you back to the station.”

You nearly choke on your mouthful of water. “What?”

She looks faintly surprised. “Maybe your friend’s come looking for you or made a call. Either way, I think it’s the best place for you.”

“Yeah, you’re right, sorry, bit of a restless night,” you answer quickly with a small smile.

She nods sympathetically before grabbing her car keys.

Shit. No, don’t worry. The station is close to where the portal is. Just give them the slip when you get there, run for it, get back home.

Perfect. An excellent plan.

                                                             You’re ready.

You’re so ready to do it.

You’ve psyched yourself up throughout the whole journey.

You can do this.

You’ll be home within the hour.

You’re full of hope, you’re stepping out of the car, you’re getting ready to run, you’re—

The Station door slams open.

“Flo, what the hell?”

Oh, no.

You and Flo turn, you swiftly, guiltily, Flo slowly, arching an eyebrow.

Hopper strides out of the Station, stopping only a couple of feet from you both, his hands on his hips.

“You can’t just take a person of interest out of the Station without tellin’ anyone!”

Hang on, ‘person of interest’?

Flo folds her arms. “Well, I wasn’t gonna let her sleep here, where would she? In a cell? She’s not under arrest, Hopper.”

Hopper sighs, rather exasperatedly. “Flo, you’re not responsible for her.”

She bristles at that, her back straightening. “Well, then who the damn hell else is?”

Bizarrely, her protective display warms you but you still keep your eyes on Flo, unable to look at him. She looks at you then, smiling.

“Come on, honey, let’s get some more coffee and see what we can—”

“Actually, Flo, I’d like to talk to her.”

You don’t catch yourself in time. You look at him. His mouth is set in a thin line. He’s so handsome. You hate everything that’s happening right now.

“’Her’? She has a name,” Flo huffs.

I feel like a kid with my divorced parents.

He gives another exasperated sigh. “Well, if I was given the chance to talk to her, then I would know that.”

“Powell already spoke to her, Hop, so—”

“She’s a potential suspect, Flo.”

“Excuse me?”

You both say it together, but Hopper looks at you instead of Flo, perhaps out of sheepishness at speaking about you rather than at you, or because it’s the first time you’ve spoken.

“You’re a potential suspect in a missing persons case, miss.”

Flo inhales sharply. “You can’t mean Will’s case. Hop, look at her, she couldn’t have—”

“Flo.” His voice is quiet but firm.

She presses her lips together, then looks to you.

You’re still staring at Hopper, your heart pounding.

Shit.

Oh my God.

I’m about to talk one-on-one, completely alone, with Chief Jim Hopper.

And I’m a suspect in the Will Byers case.

That can’t be right, though, because from your somewhat extensive knowledge of Stranger Things Will doesn’t go missing until the night of the 6th November...

Don’t ask, you’ll look crazy, just...

Your gaze darts about his desk as he closes the door to his office and you take a seat.

Desk calendar, yes.

It’s November 8th.

You’ve not only come through a portal to another world, you came to it on a completely different day.

The night after Will Byers went missing.

Oh, God, why is this happening?

“So...” He rounds the desk and sits behind it, taking a few pages from the stack beside him and glancing over it. “... I read Powell’s report. You were walkin’ alone by the woods.” He then looks to you. “Why?”

We’re getting straight to it, then.

Thankfully, strangely, your anxiety at the fact you’re being tied to a crime has taken the edge off the fact you’re talking to Jim Hopper.

You lick your lips. “As I said last night, I was walking home.”

“From where?”

A fair would be too risky to say, as you have no idea if there’s one in the area, so... “A friend’s house.”

“You there for a fancy dress party?” He gestures at you. “You were dressed as a pirate if I remember rightly.”

You smile faintly. “Yeah. We were celebrating a birthday.”

“Right.” He glances down at the notes before him, then sits back. “Why were you alone, though? Powell wrote you got the bus but then it was running out of gas so you were made to get off and walk.”

As silence continues after a moment, you raise your eyebrows slightly. “Yes, that’s correct.”

His features give nothing away. “There’s no bus that passes through that route at that time of night, though.”

You have to react quickly. “Well, I was on a bus, so.”

He’s silent again, and you’ve seen enough cop shows to guess this is a tactic. You remain silent, too.

Hopper inhales a breath, then folds his arms. “Powell also wrote that you said you had four cocktails last night. Would you consider yourself a ‘light-weight’?”

The question sends a flash of irritation through you. “No. I wasn’t drunk, if that’s what you’re implying. I’d had those cocktails a few hours before I got the bus.”

“You also said you heard an explosion in the woods.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Where?”

“Close to where I was. I was going to investigate it but I was too afraid.” I wish I had been.

Hopper runs his hand down his mouth. “You don’t think it was just a firework?”

You press your lips together, trying to control your irritation. “I know what a firework looks like, nothing lit up the sky and it didn’t sound as loud as one. It just sounded like it was muffled. I did see a light shining in the trees so I thought there were people there, maybe kids playing.”

“Did you see anyone?”

“No, I didn’t see anything but the light.”

“You didn’t see anyone at all, though? You didn’t pass anyone on the road, there was no one else on the bus?”

That’s when you realise.

Shit. I have no alibi. Just the truth, which will see me locked up for insanity in a different world.

Clearing your throat, you can’t help the edge of resignation that laces your tone. “No, I didn’t see anyone else. Two people got off the stop before where I had to get off at, though.”

Two people who don’t even exist in this world. Fake-Barb and an old lady.

Hopper is silent for a few moments, watching you. Then, he clasps his hands together on the desk. “Look, we don’t have any reports of an explosion, but we do have a missing kid to find so how about you—”

Raised voices break out outside the office.

Both your heads whip to the side out of reflex, but the blinds are down, blocking your view. Hopper stands and you turn in your seat as the voices near the door.

It bursts opens.

Flo is the first person your eyes land on, her eyebrows raised. 

“Chief, I’m sorry, I couldn’t—”

“Hop, I think I—”

Joyce Byer’s, her eyes wide, her hands in mid-air, freezes as she stares at you.

“You...”

Oh, no... 

You already hate what you don’t know is coming.

She exhales a heavy breath. “... I dreamt about you.”

“Joyce...” Hopper’s voice is so gentle behind you as he moves to her, but you can’t take your eyes off of her.

You’re torn between the fact this is Joyce Byers, and that you want to comfort her because she’s so distressed.

She doesn’t stop looking at you either. “I did, Hop, I did. You. you had a phone in your hand but it was so small, and you, you were—”

Hopper stops only a step or two away from her, his voice still gentle. “Joyce, do you know this woman?”

She shakes her head. “No, no, I’ve never met you, have I?”

The way she says it is so... aware, somehow.

You find your voice after a moment. “Ah, no.”

“Then how did I dream about you.” She says it so quietly, her eyes shining with tears.

You know it’s a show. You know it’s not real. They’re not real.

But now, with Joyce standing before you, heavy, dark circles under her eyes, her hands shaking, tears beginning to fall, it feels so real. You feel your throat closing slightly with emotion.

“I’m, I’m so sorry about your son.”

She just nods faintly, still staring at you.

From the corner of your eye, you see Flo nod in Hopper’s direction, and gently takes Joyce by the arms. “Come on, honey. I need a glass of water. Let’s get one for you, too.”

Joyce allows herself to be led away, finally tearing her gaze from you as her features crumble.

Swallowing hard, you have to prevent your own from doing the same.

As the door closes behind them, you sniff and turn back in your seat to face the desk. Hopper returns to his chair and you feel his eyes on you. You don’t meet his gaze until he’s seated.

Exhaling a long breath, he then looks down at his hands.

“You’re new in town, you were walkin’ alone on a road with no bus route the night after Will Byers goes missing, you don’t come up on any of our systems, you’re convinced you heard an explosion, Joyce Byers believes she saw you in her dreams...” He looks up at you. ”... How about you start tellin’ me somethin’ that makes sense.”

You open your mouth, then close it.

Oh, fuck it.

What is there to lose. Well, you could still make a run for it. You’re not a fast runner but you could give it your damn best.

The door bursts open for the second time, making both of you jump, your head whipping round to find the source.

Officer Callahan, slightly out of breath, points at you both. “Wait, wait, wait, hang on a minute, Chief—”

“Callahan, where the hell have you been?!”

The officer waves his hand slightly, trying to draw breath. “Hang on, Chief, she... she’s tellin’ the truth...”

Both of you stare at him.

What now.

Inhaling a deep breath, Callahan continues. “I was drivin’ by the woods, patrollin’ for any signs of the kid, last night, and I saw this flash of light and this sound like somethin’ blew up, I thought it was some kids dickin’ about so I went to see but it wasn’t, there was this...”

“What, Callahan?” Hopper demands as Callahan pauses to take a breath.

“... it was this...”

You can’t stop yourself, half-hopeful, half-desperate.

“... Portal?” you murmur.

Callahan snaps his fingers and points at you. “Yes, yes, that’s it. A portal. All circular and wavy and weird.”

You realise you’re smiling, relief flooding over you.

I’ve got my fucking alibi.

Of sorts.

We must have just missed each other.

You realise, after a moment, that Hopper hasn’t said anything. Turning in your chair, you look at him. His eyebrows are raised, his mouth is open slightly and his jaw is tight.

“Well,” he suddenly says in a bright tone, as if you’re his two, overzealous children that he has to entertain. ”Let’s go see this portal, shall we?”

You’re surprisingly grateful that Callahan talks for the entirety of the ride.

He switches his gaze from the road to Hopper in the passenger seat, then to you in the rear-view mirror.

“... I ain’t ever seen anything like this in my life, Chief, I thought I was goin’ mad until Powell told me just now about this lady that had come in and she’d heard an explosion and she didn’t seem to be from around here and I knew we’d see the same thing...”

Hopper doesn’t say a word.

Each word Callahan says, though, gives you a new spark of hope.

I’m going to go home.

It’s not long before Callahan pulls up by the side of the road. It has to be the road you walked down, though it looks so different in the daylight. Stepping out of the car, shouldering your tote bag, you gaze across to the woods. It’s less frightening, even inviting—

Behind two trees, partially hidden, shines a light.

You feel the two men pause in the same moment you do.

“What the hell...” Hopper crosses the road first, his hand instinctively going to his gun.

You glance at Callahan who glances at you. You follow behind him.

Your heart is pounding. Well, you don’t think it’s been at its normal rate for 24 hours, but now it accelerates that bit more.

You’re not mad. This is real.

Don’t think about that too much or you might actually go mad.

As you approach, you hear a faint, low humming coming from the... You and Callahan had both settled on calling it a portal but now you actually get a look at it it seems more like a...

Wait, I didn’t actually see it when I came through.

You’d looked around, having thought you’d tripped on something but you’d seen... nothing.

Why the hell didn’t I?

It’s more like a mirror, shimmering and reflecting the forest.

Maybe because it was dark, that’s why I didn’t.

Hopper’s low scoff pulls you from your thoughts. He’s staring at it, his hand still on his gun. He takes a step towards it and—

You all make some sort of a sound as the portal shrinks. Hopper automatically takes a step back, and it widens to its normal size.

The silence between you all stretches on.

You’re about to announce that, well, this was great but you’re heading home, when Hopper turns sharply and locks his eyes on you.

“Tell me the truth, now.”

Slightly taken aback by A) the force of his gaze and B) trying to figure out exactly what to say, your mouth drops open slightly.

“Uhm...”

You glance at Callahan, maybe hoping he’ll just start talking and give you time, but Hopper seems to interpret the look differently.

Looking to his officer, he drops his hand from his gun and starts to stride back towards the road.

“Radio in to Powell to help you get this place cordoned off, don’t talk to anyone else, we don’t need a panic. You,” he directs at you, “Come with me.”

Before either of you can question him, he’s already at the road, crossing it to the car.

Clearing your throat, you give Callahan a light smile before you’re once again following after Hopper.

Callahan lifts his hands, then drops them.

“Right, I’ll just be... here.”

I’ve imagined this a thousand times.

But in definitely sexier circumstances.

You’re at Hopper’s trailer.

Hopper’s trailer.

You’re still hovering by the door so you let your gaze sweep the room. It’s as messy as it had been portrayed on the show. The coffee table is surprisingly clear, though, save for a local newsletter which you have to stop yourself from picking up and reading. A blanket lies draped across one of the couches.

That’s where he sleeps when he’s too drunk to get to bed.

It’s incredibly strange; knowing so much about someone you’re supposed to regard as a stranger. It feels... intrusive.

You’d both been silent for the ride here, but now you have a hundred questions. You decide to settle on the most sensible one, though

“Uh, why are we here and not at the station?”

Not that I’m complaining.

“I thought you maybe didn’t want to say what you’re gonna say in front of Callahan.”

He emerges from behind the refrigerator door, closing it with one hand, his other one holding a beer bottle. He doesn’t offer you one. Uncapping the top, he tosses it into the sink then moves across the room and sits in the nearest armchair. He gestures for you to sit, too.

You do as you’re bade, sitting on the couch next to you, the tote bag at your feet, your hands in your lap.

“Explain,” is all he says.

And, after a pause, you do.

You hardly pause to take a breath, not daring to in case he takes the chance to laugh or call you crazy. To his credit, though, he doesn’t react once throughout.

You start with what year you’re from, how you were out on Hallowe’en night and retell the story of the bus debacle more truthfully. You tell him about your phone losing its signal, how you heard what sounded like an explosion and went to investigate it, then how you felt like you couldn’t turn or look away from it, how it pulled you in. You continue on, recounting truthfully up until the moment you met him.

The only thing you leave out is that, to your world, his isn’t real. For some reason, it doesn’t feel right to tell him.

When you finish, he looks at you, silent. The beer bottle is balanced on his thigh, his hand tight around it, his features expressionless.

You shift slightly, playing with your hands.

“Well, I—”

“You’ve got to be shittin’ me.”

It’s your turn to look at him, your mouth open. He scoffs, raising his eyebrows.

“You’re tellin’ me the truth?”

“Yep, it’s all true.”

For some reason you’re... annoyed.

He scoffs again. “You’re tellin’ me I’m supposed to believe you’ve, what, time-travelled here?”

“Yes, actually.” Your back’s straighter now, your lips pressed together.

“Is this a fuckin’ joke?”

“A joke? You saw it with your own damn eyes, Chief.”

If he’s surprised by the bite to your tone he doesn’t show it, and, thankfully, he doesn’t scoff again either.

“How, then? How did this all happen?”

“I don’t know, I’m not a fucking scientist.”

“So, I’m just supposed to believe you, huh?”

“Yes.”

Your sure, rapid response makes his lips twitch slightly, and you can’t believe he might actually want to smile.

“Why is it so hard for you to believe?” you continue, your voice having risen slightly, “You saw it with your own eyes.”

“I don’t know what I saw,” he counters in a way that has you realising he’s wrestling with the facts and the impossibility of them.

Well, then.

If he doesn’t believe this, then how is he going to believe Joyce about anything.

You don’t know where that thought comes from.

"I’ll go back through, I’ll prove it to you,” you announce as you rise to your feet, lifting your bag.

“What?” He’s full-on smiling now in disbelief, staring at you.

“Take me back there, I’ll show you.”

He regards you, your arms folded, your eyebrow arched, your features determined. Sighing heavily, he sets the bottle down on a table beside him and pushes himself up.

“All right, but then afterwards we’re goin’ to the Station and we’re gonna find your friends.”

“... This is a fuckin’ waste of time...” Hopper grumbles behind you as you trudge through the dry, fallen leaves.

I’ll show you.

Callahan leaning against a nearby tree, raises his eyebrows at the sight of you both.

“Gee, that was quick.” He glances from Hopper to you. “He doesn’t believe whatever you told him, does he?”

“Nope.”

You stride past him, heading straight for the portal. Powell stands on the other side of it, finishing tying some tape to a tree to cordon the area off. You wish you had the time to get his opinion on it. You duck under the tape before you and turn to Hopper.

He stays behind the tape, his arms folded. Glancing at the portal then to you, he shakes his head wearily.

“Well, if this miraculously works and you don’t come back, it was nice knowin’ you, sweetheart.”

You hate the sarcasm dripping from his tone.

I’ll show you, you bastard. This isn’t even gonna be the weirdest thing you’ll see this month.

“Yeah, you, too.” 

You turn to the portal.

You turn back after a split second to add before you can think, “You’re such a pain the ass, even bigger than I would have thought.”

“What did you just say?”

 His words, however, are drowned out by the growing humming of the portal. You’ve turned back and your gaze is locked onto it now and you can feel the familiar pull and tug of it. 

You can’t look away. 

You can’t stop yourself from moving towards it.

You can’t hear Hopper as he tries to get closer to you, calling to you.

It’s night time.

You’re staring up at the stars in the sky.

There’s so many of them.

There’s something digging into my back.

Pushing yourself up with a groan, your hands pressing into mud and leaves, you get to your feet. Looking down, you find the source of your discomfort is your bag. Lifting it and brushing leaves off of it, you look around.

Trees. Lots and lots of trees, and...

No portal.

You can’t stop a wide smile from spreading across your lips.

There, see, you disbelieving dick, I was right, now I’m...

Home.

You’re home. You’re still grinning, looking beyond the trees. Yes, there’s the road you had walked on before this whole mess, now you can go home and...

Your smile starts to fall.

You’d been in Hawkins.

You’d spoken with Powell, Callahan, Flo, Joyce and... Hopper.

You’d actually been there, in their world.

There were so many missed opportunities. There was so much more you could have done, could have said, could have asked.

You could have...

Stop it, you’re home now, that’s what you wanted. That wasn’t real. That was... That was...

Your phone buzzes in your bag.

Looking down at it, you open it after a moment and pull it out.

You have a message.

From Meg.

UGH nightmare, that’s why I hate public transport. CALL ME!!

You release a sound, half of disbelief, half of relief.

No time has passed at all.

Your thumb moves quickly, and you lift your phone to your ear.

“I cannot believe this has happened, it is such an outrage, I am going to spam the bus company’s Twitter until you get some kind of compensation, how dare they, the absolute fucking bastards...”

As Meg rants on, a smile returns to your lips and you start to walk.

It only takes you five minutes to get home, and Meg talks the whole way, only drawing breath when you close your front door.

“... ugh, anyway, I’ll help you write up an email. Are you all right, anyway?”

You pause, placing your bag on your couch. You think back over the lost 24 hours, everything you hadn’t had time to feel. You can’t stop your eyes from filling.

“Hey, why are you crying?” Meg asks with a great deal of concern as you sniff, wiping at your eyes

“I just...” You exhale a long breath. “... It was a bit scary, that’s all.”

“O, babe, oh please don’t cry. You’re fine now, you’re back home. But the TV on and get into your pyjamas. How about I come over in the morning, we have pancakes and watch whatever’s on?”

You crack a smile even though she can’t see it. “That sounds amazing.”

“Duh, I’m going to be there, of course it will be.”

You laugh, grateful for the release it brings you.

Forget about everything. Write it off as a weird day. Never tell anyone. It wasn’t real.

Shoving everything, everything from your mind, you lose yourself in making plans with Meg, crossing the room and entering your bedroom as you laugh again.

Behind you, unseen, the lamps flicker. Slowly, then rapidly. The TV turns on, the screen flashes white. 

Then, they cease.

The lights shine warmly.

All is as it should be.

                                                     The End... ?

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[dyscrasia-eucrasia]

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Part 11

Angel spent most of the next morning nursing an excruciating hangover. He hadn't even had that much to drink, but he still spent a good amount of time hunched over, retching into the toilet. When finally his stomach had settled enough to get a sports drink down, he crawled back onto his futon and pulled a blanket over his head. 

He intended to spend the rest of the day like that, napping and forgetting the night before, but sleep eluded him. He tossed and turned fretfully until finally he grabbed his phone from the end table and checked his notifications. 

His Instagram notifications had been going off all night, to the point he finally silenced his phone, something he never did normally. There were notifications for followers, comments, likes - and one tagged picture from Clayton's account. 

His stomach dropped and he thought he was going to be sick again. He didn't want to look at it, but he knew he had to. He needed to know if his entire social media career was over. He couldn't stand that thought. He couldn't stand the thought of going back to being a nobody so desperate for cash that he quit school to strip. He didn't want to be just a face in the crowd again. 

He hesitated a long time before tapping the notification. The Instagram logo came up on the screen and he was presented with a picture of himself and Clayton. Clayton had his hands on either side of Angel's face, and was forcing his mouth onto Angel's. Angel was tagged in the post, but all the caption said was 'West Virginians know how to party'. There was no mention of the fight, no acknowledgement that Angel looked completely surprised in the photo. 

He scrolled through the comments. They were all hearts or eggplant emojis or declarations of jealousy. 

That was Instagram for you, he supposed. Everything sanitized for public consumption, worst qualities twisted into aspirational ones. 

There was no way he could possibly talk about the attempted assault now. He'd just look petty and attention-seeking. He'd get accused of being a gold digger looking for a pay-off. 

And the worst thing about it was that when he checked his own profile, he found that overnight, he'd smashed past ten thousand followers and was edging close to twenty thousand. His follower count had more than doubled, and he didn't even care. It had happened the wrong way. This wasn't the kind of attention he wanted. He didn't want to be seen as Clayton Howard's hookup. 

Morbid curiosity compelled him to check Youtube. Sure enough, Clayton's vlog channel had posted a new video about Charleston, but it mostly covered the daytime as he and his crew had run around the city being obnoxious to locals. Angel's stomach twisted. God, he could see so clearly now how everything Clayton did was an act. An especially grating one, at that. How had he ever had a crush on this guy? 

And then there was Angel on screen, smiling into the camera and throwing up a peace sign as Clayton wrapped his hand around his shoulders. The rest of the video was made up of rapid cuts - walking to Broadway, drinking Fireball shots, dancing. Then a shot that mirrored the photo on Instagram of Clayton kissing Angel, his friends hooting in approval. The video cut to Clayton shouting at the camera for the viewer to buy his merch and subscribe to his channel, and that was it. Video over. His disgusting behavior completely edited out, Angel's fate left in question. 

Angel put the phone down, turning onto his stomach and burying his face in his pillow. He felt like trash. Literal trash, in that he'd been used and tossed away. And nobody even knew it. Nobody would care. After all, he had less than 20k followers. 

He stayed like that for a long time, face pressed into his pillow. Tears came on and off, but he didn't even feel sad. He mostly felt empty. He was nothing, a nobody. A fake persona for the internet to consume and then throw aside. A pretty face that got views. Content. 

His phone rang. He ignored it. It stopped. He continued to lay there, feeling awful. 

Time passed. He wasn't sure how long - he may have dozed off at some point. But then the phone rang again and brought him back to the present. 

He couldn't hide from the world forever. 

He lifted his head and turned to look at the phone, precariously balanced at the edge of the futon. His eyebrows came together in confusion. That wasn't the name he'd expected to see on the caller ID. 

"Hello?" He asked, bringing the phone to his ear. 

"Hey dude," Demie replied. Angel noticed for the first time that despite his tone being monotonous, there was a warmth under Demie's words. His voice was rich and deep, like the ringing of a gong. 

"Demie?" Angel asked. Of course it was Demie. But still, he was surprised. "What… what's up?" 

"Just checking in on you, man. You seemed super out of it last night." 

Oh, that was right. He'd called Demie. He couldn't remember much of the conversation, but one part did stick out in his mind. In his drunken state, he'd told Demie he liked him. And Demie had replied in kind. 

For the first time that day, his heart didn't feel like a cold heavy lump of metal in his chest. 

"Yeah. I'm okay." Angel lied. 

"You sure? You seemed… I dunno. Out of it." 

"I mean…" Angel took a deep, shuddering breath. When he spoke again, he had to fight to keep his voice from cracking. "I just… I really looked up to his guy, but now I know he's a complete ass, and I can't even talk to anyone about it, because they'll just take his side." 

"Yeah, fuck that guy," Demie said, and Angel couldn't help but smile. It was just the way Demie said it - he had no idea who Angel was talking about, and his tone didn't even change, and yet it really felt like he meant it. 

"Honestly, I feel like garbage," Angel said. "I just keep thinking about it over and over and I feel so fucking stupid."

"Yeah, uh…" There was a pause. "Do you wanna listen to a song I've been working on? I dunno, might make you feel better."

"The Orpheus one?" 

"Nah, it's an older song. It's part of this concept album Mar and I were planning about the Trojan war, but Mar moved before we could finish it."

"What's it about?" 

"You know who Achilles is, right?"

"Uh… he had a weak ankle, right? That's why we called it the Achilles Tendon." 

"I mean… that's the really short version of it, yeah. So Achilles had this best friend, Patroclus, who gets killed by Hector of Troy. And Hector takes Patroclus' armor, and that pisses Achilles off, so they fight. So Achilles wins and kills Hector, but instead of giving him funeral rites he ties him by the ankles and drags his body around outside the walls of Troy." 

"That sounds… intense, but okay." 

"Cool, hold on a minute." 

There was some scuffling in the background, and when Demie came back it was clear he was on speakerphone. 

"Okay, ready?" He asked. 

"Sure. Hit me." 

Angel could hear an acoustic guitar. The melody wasn't what he'd expected - he'd expected something fast and brutal, like the stuff he'd heard at the concert. But instead this was slow, plodding, like a funeral march. 

Then Demie's voice came in, low and resonant. Even over the phone it made Angel's sternum vibrate. He sang slowly, deliberately, drawing notes out in long holds. 

The lyrics talked about Achilles, about the pain he felt. It described how he lost a half of his soul, and how he sought revenge. But it wasn't a huge, bombastic revenge - it was a bitter one. The Achilles that Demie sang about couldn't heal the hole in his heart, and so he took it out on Hector. He didn't hate Hector, though, and he felt shame for the way he treated Hector's dead body, and he knew it would lead to his own eventual downfall.

It was a song about the cyclical nature of revenge, and of loss. Angel didn't even notice until the song ended that he was crying. Not silent tears, either - he was actually sobbing. 

There was a clatter as Demie picked up the phone again. 

"What'd you think?" He asked. 

"Holy shit, man," Angel choked. "Holy shit that was so fucking deep." 

"How'd'ya feel?"

"I--" Angel wanted to say that he felt like shit, obviously. He had already felt like garbage and then Demie had gone and sung an incredibly depressing song to him, clearly it would just make things worse. 

And yet, it hadn't. He didn't feel bad at all. In fact, he felt fine. Good, even. Like he was rejuvenated. It was as if the previous night hadn't even happened. 

"I feel better," he admitted.

"Cool. Hey, uh… be careful and stuff, or whatever." 

"Yeah. Yeah, thanks." 

"Cool, see ya." 

"Okay. Thanks. B--" The line went dead before he could tell Demie goodbye. 

He sighed, turning over onto his back. His entire body felt lighter, and the tune of the song swirled around in his head. He wasn't sure what had just happened, but it was like Demie's voice had healed him. His hangover was gone, his anxiety was gone. He wouldn't necessarily say that he was happy, but he felt… good. 

There was one thing he was certain of, though: he was falling fast and hard for Demie. Not in the parasocial internet crush way he'd felt about Clayton Howard, but in an organic way. Demie had been there for him twice now, despite virtually being strangers, and each time he'd come away feeling better. 

Not to mention, the way Demie had sung about Achilles and Patroclus had been so powerfully, painfully gay. 

He wanted so badly to see Demie in person.

[nastybuckybarnes]

Birthday Blues

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: When a big mission comes up on your birthday, you’ve got no choice but to take it. Sad and alone, you miss your boyfriend. Until an old friend surprises you.

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Jealous!Bucky, Language

Word Count: 1.2K

A/N: A little light and fluffy after Distrust

Request: Would you mind doing a oneshot where reader has to spend her birthday away from the Avengers due to work but a guy friend surprises her or treats her well during that day, their activities get posted online by the media, leading to Bucky making assumptions that he has been replaced 😊

MASTERLIST

EDITED POORLY

~*~

“Seriously Tony? Why me?” You whine out, wanting to do nothing but spend your birthday at home with your boyfriend.

“I know, sweetpea, I know. But you’re the best for this type of assignment. It shouldn't take too long. And when you get back, I’ll have a Stark birthday party ready for you.” You groan and glare at him. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.” You roll your eyes but take the file from him, flipping it open and skimming through it as you head over to your room.

“What’s that?”

You look up and smile softly at Bucky. “A solo mission. Just kinda observing and gathering intel. I should be back in a few days.” He frowns, glancing down at the file. “But your birthday’s tomorrow. You’re gonna be gone for it?” You nod sadly.

“But Stark promised that when I get back he’s gonna throw a huge birthday bash.” You roll your eyes playfully and Bucky chuckles. “When do you leave?” “Tonight. In a few hours. And I should be back day after tomorrow so it’s not too bad. I’m still gonna miss you a bunch.” He chuckles and pulls you into a tight embrace.

“I’m gonna miss you too, Doll. But when you get back, you’ll have a birthday surprise waiting for you.” You giggle as he kisses your neck, any worries about the mission temporarily forgotten as his scruff tickles your skin.

~

You sit on top of the building, sighing softly as the targets do the same thing they’ve been doing for the past six hours: sleep.

You unlock your phone and scroll through Instagram, a smile spreading on your face as you see a familiar username.

You read the post and feel tears well up in your eyes.

‘Happy Birthday to the most incredible woman I know. @yourusername you’re the best person in the world and I love you so much! I’m so happy to have you in my life and without you, I’d be lost. Have an amazing birthday, Babe. And never forget how much I love you!’

Of course, the pictures he posted of the two of you aren’t exactly the best. There’s one of you guys making silly. faces, one of him kissing your cheek, one of you kissing his cheek, and one from a New Years Eve party that feels like it was a million years ago.

You double tap the picture, comment ten heart emojis, then stuff your phone back into your pocket, oblivious to the misinterpretation of the post going on currently at home.

~*~

“You’re back! Perfect timing! Now go to your room, Nat’s waiting for you. She’ll help you get dressed then come join the party. Everyone else will already be there and you’ll get all the welcome gushy stuff. Go!”

You raise your eyebrows as Tony shoves you into the elevator, not giving you a single moment to say anything.

You let it slide though, when you see the dress waiting for you.

It’s a gorgeous deep blue colour, made of a soft velvety fabric. With embellishments that hang off of your shoulders, a slit in the bust and a high slit in the left thigh, and a train that drags behind you when you walk. It hugs your figure in a way that ‘shouldn't be legal’, in Nat's opinion, but even you have to admit that you look amazing.

“Now, I don’t want you stressing over anything tonight, okay?” She asks while putting some lipstick on you. You furrow your brows and wait until she's done to ask her, “what would I be stressing about?” She pulls away and raises her eyebrows. “Nothing,” she says quickly. Too quickly. “I just... if there was anything you were stressing about... I don’t want you to think about it, okay?” You nod skeptically then put your shoes on, trying to remember if you should be stressing over anything.

Before you can figure out what it is, she’s pulling you into the common room and you’re immediately greeted by a chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’.

A smile finds its way onto your face and you laugh as Sam throws his arm around you, singing an extravagant version to put everyone else to shame.

“Thank you so much, guys!” They all take their turns, wishing you a happy birthday.

All but one.

“Where’s Bucky?” You ask, looking around curiously.

“He’s out on the balcony I think,” Steve says, scratching the nape of his neck softly. You smile up at him then hurry out to the balcony, sighing softly as you see your boyfriend sitting by the ledge, his eyes closed.

“Hey Sergeant,” you tease, walking over to him.

“How long have you been cheating on me?” He asks bluntly. You almost trip, his words confusing the Hell out of you. “Bucky, what are you talking about? I’m not cheating on you. I’d never cheat on you. What’s brought this on?” He turns to you, his face cold and devoid of emotions.

“I saw what ‘Dean’ said. He loves you and you love him and he couldn’t live without you. Why are you still lying to my face?” Realization dawns on you and you smile gently.

“Bucky, Dean’s my friend. Nothing more.” He scoffs and shakes his head, causing you to start getting angry. “Bucky what the fuck?! Have I ever lied to you before? No. I haven't. You could maybe show me a little trust, for once? Dean is one of my best friends and, if you looked at any of his other posts, you’d know he’s gay. And happily married to a man. I was at their wedding last year.” Bucky stares at you, jaw dropped as he realizes how wrong he was.

“I... I’m sorry (Y/n).” You turn away from him, trying to calm yourself down. “I wish you trusted me Bucky, because I trust you.” You feel hands on your arms, one warm, one cool.

“I know. And I do trust you, it’s just... I saw a headline in the news that you were cheating on me and I couldn’t shake that. I know I should’ve asked you about it before getting mad, but I’m... stupid.”

You sniffle and turn around to face him.

“Yes. You are. You’re a big stupid teddy bear who promised me a birthday surprise. You’re a stupid idiot who hasn’t said ‘happy birthday’ or complimented my dress yet. You’re a big fucking gigantic idiot.”

He chuckles and pulls you into a tight hug, his flesh hand enjoying the feeling of your dress beneath his skin.

“You look absolutely ravishing, Doll. Happy Birthday.” You look up at him with eyes that are slightly red, and he curses himself.

“Now, Tonight I’m gonna give you your surprise, and you’re gonna forget everything stupid I’ve done. Hell, by the end of the night, you’ll forget your own name.”

A shiver runs down your spine at the promise, and you find yourself beyond excited for whatever he has in store for you.

~*~

TAGS:

FOREVER:

@smolbeanbucky @wildefire @inumorph @impalatobakerstreet @nanna022 @mummy-woves-you @m-a-t-91 @wtfholland @bookgirlunicorn @beautifulwisdom2001 @deep-sea-glitter @mrhiddles-81 @iamwarrenspeace @bitchacho25 @escapetheshackles @i-know-i-can @hiddles-rose

MARVEL:

@fallenangelfangirl @look-to-the-stars-and-wish @maladaptive-ninja-returns @cliffordasparagus @april-14-blog @potteritis

BUCKY:

@chuuulip @buckyssoul @nerd-without-a-cause @natashasnight

[spidyboyholland]

The Boy Next Door-Tom Holland (chapter 5-stars)

CHAPTER 1/CHAPTER 2/CHAPTER 3/CHAPTER 4/CHAPTER 5/CHAPTER 6/CHAPTER 7

pairing: tom holland x female reader

summary: tom and you have been spending lots of time alone together, where will it lead?

warnings: swearing, and sexual content

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You totally forgot about meeting up with Haz this afternoon. After all the craziness of the day you just needed to get out of school, and then the whole thing with Tom happened... it completely slipped your mind. You felt awful about it. 

Texting back as fast as you could, you texted

“Holy shit Harrison Im so sorry! So much shit went down this afternoon with Noah I had no time to wait, and then Tom took me home, but I am so fucking sorry.” 

Falling back on your bed you sigh, your head filled with emotions. Tom just kissed you, then Harrison started yelling at you. Should you be sad or happy? Maybe a bit of both. 

Harrison quickly responds with

“Y/n itʻs fine. But Im warning you that Tom will hurt you, and I donʻt want to see that. Please be careful.”

Hurt me? Tom? He is the most gentle, sweet guy you have ever met. You brush it off thinking that Harrison is probably just being jealous, but you knew Harrison only wanted the best for you and he was just trying to look out for you. 

“Thank you Haz, but donʻt worry, I can hold my own against Tom. Can I make it up to you somehow? Lunch tomorrow?”

“Sounds good.” 

You put your phone down relived that Harrison forgave you for ditching him, he really was a nice guy. 

The rest of your afternoon was spent trying to do homework, it was sort of hard to focus when every time you looked out your window you saw Tom in his room either doing homework or lifting weights. Extremely distracting. 

Tom was so perfect to you. You couldnʻt believe that he liked you. 

“Hey honey!” Your Mom said while peeking into your room

“Hey Mom, whats up?” You say while closing your English book

“Want to go out for thai?” She asks

“Sure, Iʻll be downstairs in a minute” You say while checking your phone one last time before heading downstairs.

After dinner with your Mom, you were exhausted. You plopped on your bed and passed out. 

You started having a crazy dream. You and Tom were in a hot tub. He had your arms pinned above your head, leaving love bites all along your neck. You wernʻt sure if the steam was 100% from the hot tub or if some of it was coming off of you and Tom. 

Youʻre abruptly woken up by a ding from your phone. You open your eyes and notice its still dark. 

Looking at your phone, you see itʻs 1 am. 

Who the fuck is texting me at 1 am? You say while looking at your imessage with your eyes still only half open. 

Itʻs a text from Tom.

“You awake love?”

Your heart skips a beat, not quite sure if you are still asleep and just dreaming or if Tom is actually texting you. 

“Now I am” You respond with a laughing face emoji 

“Sorry bout that, want to go on a little adventure?” 

An adventure at 1 am with Tom? Fuck yes. 

“Im so down.”

“Meet me outside in 5.”

You hop up out of your bed, brushing through your hair quickly and changing into jeans and sweat shirt 

Being cautious to not wake your Mom up, you tip toe down the stairs and slowly open the front door, carefully so you donʻt make any noise. 

You walk out into the driveway and see Tom waiting in his car. 

Once Tom seeʻs you he jumps out of his car and opens the car door for you. 

“Hey y/n!” He says smiling and gives you a quick peck on the cheek 

“Where the hell are you taking me at 1 am?” You ask while Tom turns on the car

“Youʻll see soon baby girl.” 

You watch as you drive out of the suburban town and the scenery turns from houses and into trees.

After a ten minute car ride of nothing but the radio music playing softly and Tom rubbing small circles on your thigh with one hand on the wheel, he pulls over onto a gravel path in what seems like the middle of no where.

You guys get out of the car and stand in front of what looks like just a big forest. Tom opens the trunk of the car and takes out a big blanket.

“You better not be dragging me into the forest to murder me Tom. I would be pissed.” 

He chuckles and grabs your hand leading you along the path through the really dark forest.

You finally reach a stop where he lays down the big blanket on a small patch of grass and lights a small candle he also brought. 

“Is this your attempt at being romantic? Taking me into a dark forest with a blanket and candle at 1 am? “ You chuckle while sitting down with him on the blanket

“No love, just look up” he says while tilting your chin up to the sky.

Stars. Millions and billions and trillions of stars. The sky more of a purple than black. It looked like a million tiny flashing cameras in the sky.

“Holy shit Tom....” you say while still looking up in awe

“This is my favorite place to think. I figured that since you were from the city, you probably havenʻt seen a lot of stars, and not like this.”

“Are you kidding? I think Iʻve seen like 5 stars in my whole life, this is amazing” 

“Y/n?” Tom says while grabbing your hand

“Yes Tom?” 

“I really fucking like you. This, right now, is perfect.” He says while looking at you in the dim lighting 

“I really like you too...” You say as Tom moves close to you, pushing you down so that youʻre laying down on the blanket and his body is hovering over yours by a couple centimeters. You can feel his hot breath on your face.

He doesnʻt lean in slowly, he collides his lips with yours with force, grabbing your fave with one hand and holding himself up with the other. Running your hands tightly through his hair, you roll him over so that you are now on top on him. He feel him smile through the kiss. 

“Youʻre....so....fucking....perfect” He manages to say through the kiss

You feel his hand wander over your pants, and then back up to your face. 

You slowly unzip you jeans and guide his hand. 

Not breaking the kiss, things escalate quickly. (sorry guys Im not good at writing smut so Im not even gonna try haha)

You canʻt believe that this is happening with Tom. But before things go to far you manage to stop yourself. 

You break off the heated kiss, both you and Tom are extremely out of breath. 

“Tom, wait Tom, stop.” 

“Whatʻs wrong?” He says pulling away from you 

“I want to wait. We havenʻt known eachother that long and...” 

“Love, say no more. It is fine, we will wait forever if you want. I just want you to be perfectly comfortable” He says 

“Thank you so much Tom.” You say while kissing him again

You and Tom finally wrap things up and he drives you back home. 

As you lay in bed you start to think, holy shit, Iʻm falling in love with Tom Holland.

authors note: okay so I donʻt know how to write smut so I kinda just skipped over that part. this was a short and lame chapter and like always theres probs lots of grammar and spelling errors but it will be fixed later! let me know if you wanna be tagged

tags:

@littlemermaid160 @casualprincess77

[sagegothel]

SCISSOR SISTERS → STI

TAGGING → Izzie Bash (@izziebash), Tia La Bouff (@tiaisms) & Sage Gothel

TIMELINE → October 5th, 2018

SETTING → Walt U Homecoming Football Game

SUMMARY → After Sage tweets something weird and disappears in the middle of hte game, Tia and Izzie take it upon themselves to go find her. 

Izzie cheered for the football game before her to get her mind off of what was troubling her. The halftime performance was only like, fifteen minutes away and Sage was nowhere to be found. She had been there once, but then she ran off and hadn't come back. Maybe she'd wandered off and fell in a well, or got insecure about Wayland and ran off to torment Meadow some more, or something else dumb. But this was the homecoming game. One of their biggest performances of the year! Why would she miss it? Then Izzie thought about what Meadow had told her, and how down Sage had been feeling, and while she wanted to be a good friend to Meadow, she couldn't help but feel a little bad for Sage. She just hoped she was alright. Izzie walked off to get some water at a nearby cooler and checked her phone for a moment, scrolling through Twitter. Out of curiosity, she searched up @sizzlingsage and quickly unblocked her, relieved that she hadn't been blocked back so she could see her posts, only to be shocked by what she found. The most recent one read "time to go bye bye" with a cryptic scissor emoji. Izzie furrowed her brow, trying to wrack her brain for what that could possibly mean. Sage wasn't the smartest, but her twitter was never so bleak. There was no going back now, Izzie was in full worry-mode. Spotting Tia nearby, Izzie accosted her with the tweet on her screen facing out to her. "Look, I know we hate each other now, and the feeling is definitely mutual, but look at this. Do you know anything about this?" she asked Tia, handing her her phone.

Tia was busy minding her own business stretching out her hamstrings as she prepared herself mentally for Halftime when Izzie came running up to her with a phone in her hand. Tia read the screen for a moment before glancing at Izzie in confusion. "Does she mean she's going to have sex with girls now? Cuz last I checked she and your cousin are still disgusting. But what else could it mean?" She asked, looking back at the phone just as it buzzed with an incoming text message. Tia couldn't help but read the message in the notification bar since it could possibly be clarification from Sage herself, and then immediately blushed when it turned out to be from someone else entirely. "By the way L'ogan really likes your cheer skirt." She giggled, handing her ex-bestie her phone back.

Izzie felt her cheeks go red as Tia recited L'ogan's text to her and snatched her phone back. "No, no one comes out like that. Not even Sage is that dense," Izzie rolled her eyes before exhaling and running a hand through her hair. "I don't know, I just have like...a really bad gut feeling. Vivi-- Meadow," she was quick to correct herself, " -- told me that Sage had been really sad and insecure and annoying lately about her and Wayland, and I dunno, you have Wes and Charlie and the @ pack and I have my new roommates, but I don't know who Sage has been hanging out with. You live with her. Does she seem any different? Lonelier or something?" She didn't want to outright say what she was worried the tweet might mean, and hoped Tia might fill in the blanks without her having to.

Tia shrugged and started to go back to stretching. "I dunno, Charlie came out by having sex with a bunch of people and that's kind of on brand for Sage. As Izzie continued talking, Tia slowly started to understand what she was trying to say. Tia finally stopped worrying about the halftime performance and started thinking hard about Sage's recent behavior. "Gosh, I don't know either. I haven't been paying that much attention to her when i'm not...um keeping her out of my parties. You don't think she's cutting herself like that girl from Netflix, right?" She asked, practically whispering her question in terror as her face paled at the thought.

Izzie cocked a brow, considering that for a second. "Charlie's queer?" she frowned contemplatively, wondering how her gaydar could have been so off about the younger La Bouff. But then she snapped herself out of that, and started focusing on the actual topic here: Sage. "Yeah, Lux told me about your brilliant little plan at that party. You locked her in her own room in her own cottage? How mean." She wasn't really mad at Tia for it, and her tone showed. Tia could do worse. She was moreso thinking like Sage in that situation, and how terrible that must have made her feel. "And I've been calling her stupid to Meadow behind her back...That's not like, mean in person, but it puts out negative energy that I'm sure she had to feel." Izzie gnawed on her bottom lip as Tia voiced exactly what she'd been thinking. "I don't know, maybe? She wouldn't do something like that, do you think? She's not..." Izzie shrugged vaguely, not knowing how to finish that sentence. Instead, she jumped to her next idea. "We need to find her. Like, now. She tweeted this almost ten minutes ago, we could be too late already."

Tia blinked. "No? She's bi." She replied, wondering where in the talk of bi did she get the word queer. "Why's he snitching to you? Sage was mean first and I was mean better." She replied, crossing her arms over her chest a little petulantly before immediately dropping them since now wasn't the time to defend herself. "I don't know what'd she do. On one hand she doesn't seem that Hannah Bakery. But on the other, if Wayland was my only friend i'd go bye bye too." Tia frowned even more when Izzie said they might already bee too late and felt tears quickly begin to well up in her eyes. "Where would she go then? If she walked back to our cottage we could run and try to catch up with her. Would that work?"

Izzie huffed some air out through her cheeks with a roll of the eyes, not exactly in the mood to explain LGBTQ+ labels to Tia, or be offended at the joke she made at her cousin’s expense. She didn’t even want to explain that the only reason Tia thought Sage had been mean first was because she had been standing up for her. This wasn’t the time to fight. It was the time to find Sage. Izzie caught her bottom lip between her teeth, and gave a shrug. She really had no clue. “I don’t know. I mean, I guess we could try? That seems like our best bet,” she nodded, suddenly remembering how that Netflix season ended and got a little queasy. “Come on,” Izzie started for the nearest exit in a light jog so as to not draw too much attention to the two cheerleaders who were ditching the game right before halftime. Just as they passed the bathroom closest to the WU gym, Izzie heard a scream. She sent Tia a worried glance, but didn’t hesitate to barge in.

Sage was so sick of feeling sad and heavy and gross all of the time. She'd tried everything that normally worked to make her feel better already - her super rad diet, cuddling with Wayland, wearing purple, making up new dances - but all of her old tricks seemed to be failing. It seemed that nothing cheered a person up when they suddenly had no friends, and it felt like every time she tried to make a new one, she got shut down. Lux was nice to her, but he had his little demon girlfriend who like, death glared Sage whenever possible. She would have tried to make Freddie be her friend, but Izzie like, beat her to it. She'd even thought maybe Wayland's best friend would be nice to her if she was like, trying to find her a boyfriend too, but apparently being nicer than usual just made people hate Sage more. She wasn't the smart one like Izzie, she wasn't the rich boss-lady one like Tia, and she must not even be the pretty one anymore because nobody seemed to want to be around. Did that make Sage the nothing one? Being the nothing one was sad. Sage had started thinking more and more about just leaving Walt and going back home to her mom. At least Mother Gothel loved her and would never abandon her - she'd been sending her more and more notes inviting her to come back after she'd peaced out during the summer on the worst trip ever, and Sage was mega close to just doing it. She had to try one more thing first, though. A haircut had like, turned Kori's whole life around, even making her little sibling a hottie homecoming queen candidate. And it had made Kori nice to her for the first time ever. So when even cheering at the homecoming game wasn't making Sage happy anymore - the opposite, really; she'd left the field because she'd started to feel her eyes pricking with tears, seeing Izzie and Tia's big smiles and how much they didn't need her and maybe never had - she decided to go ahead and just follow Kori's lead. Maybe a magic hair cut would solve all of her problems, and if it didn't... Well, then maybe more than Sage's hair could go bye bye. She'd tell Wayland she loved him and like, thanks for being the only one who still cared, but that he could be with someone smarter and prettier like Meadow now too and she'd just go back to her tower and leave everyone alone. Sage ran her fingers through her long, dark hair one last time, loving the silky smooth feel of it. Then the used one hand to hold it out to the side, as straight as she could, as she raised the scissors she'd brought to the bathroom with her other hand and snipped. It took a minute for Sage to process what she was seeing in the mirror. The messed up make up and tear streaked face were nothing new, but she let the clump of short hair fall back to her head as she clutched inches and inches of detached hair in her fist, and blinked in horror before letting out a blood-curdling scream.

Tia glanced at Izzie at the exact same time as she glanced at her and burst into the bathroom with her. Immediately she felt relief at seeing Sage clearly not dead and then let out a bloodcurdling scream as she realized what was happening with Sage's head. Other than purple, long mermaid like hair was major Sage iconography. "What happened to your head!?" She screeched, running over like Sage really did have a razor blade jammed in her wrist and threw the scissors across the room before surveying the hair damage up close.

Izzie didn’t know exactly what she was looking at when she came into the bathroom. It wasn’t until she saw the clumps of hair detached from Sage’s body did she bring the palm of her hand to her mouth with a gasp. She followed behind Tia, coming up on Sage with a more calm demeanor — she didn’t want to scare her when she was clearly already disturbed. “What Tia means to say is....Why are you cutting your hair and why are you doing it in a bathroom at a football game? Rapunzel’s like, totally has a homecoming discount right now.” She took Sage’s chopped ends into her hands and fluffed them out to survey the damage. She was glad that Sage seemed to be okay, but then remembered that that girl from the show had also cut her hair. It was one of those things that people sometimes did when they wanted to feel something. “Are you....okay?” Izzie asked tenderly, combing her fingers through Sage’s longer strands.

Sage didn't know how long she screamed for before Izzie and Tia barged into the bathroom. It could have been five seconds or it could have been five years; time felt all blurry and weird to Sage, and she was pretty sure she had to be hallucinating now anyway. Tia and Izzie would never have come to search for her, especially not together, and Sage sniffled, the tears starting again as she realized how sad that made her. The two girls were the best thing that had ever happened to her, and she apparently missed them so much that she was seeing them where they couldn't possibly be. Except the scissors skittering across the floor sounded real, and the feel of Izzie's fingers felt real, too. And when she looked in the mirror they were actually in the reflection with her, too, and Sage took a minute to stop her chest from heaving with quiet sobs before she said anything. "No," she wailed, calm enough to talk but still not as calm as she would have liked to have been. "I look like weirdo punk rock Avril Lavigne got hit by a weed whacker or something!" she said, looking at her hair in horror before looking at the two of them. She didn't know if she was really supposed to answer Izzie's other questions; they might be here now, but if she said she wasn't okay because she missed them, she risked them telling her that they didn't miss her at all. Maybe they were only here because they needed to pee or because she was messing up the homecoming cheer routine, and she bit on her lip. "I don't know, a hair cut made Kori way more likeable, I thought I could like... try it or something," she replied, blinking her eyes until they felt dryer. "And Rapunzel's is still expensive, so like... sorry?" she trailed off lamely.

Tia felt terrible watching Sage cry like that, especially with most of her hair gone, she felt like she was watching the most surreal and terrible production of Les Mis ever. She wanted to hug her so bad that it only took half a second of wondering if that was appropriate before she actually did it. "You totally look worse than that, oh my god." Tia said, crying into Sage's shoulder before sobbing even harder because it had been so long since the last time they had hugged last and Sage was usually her favorite shoulder to cry on so there was like a weird Pavlovian effect happening there too. "You didn't have to wreck your head to be more likable, you're so great. And also please don't kill youself because your hair is bad and you don't have friends because I locked you in your room. You're like the best person ever and I'm sorry that you didn't feel like it enough to risk ruining your hair like this. It's all me and Izzie's fault!" She ramble wailed at Sage, lacking every bit of the ability Sage had at eventually composing herself. So Tia was still crying like a crazy person when she pulled away from hugging Sage to look at her hair again. "I think I could probably even it out to look cute enough until we can book you an appointment at Rapunzel's. Would that be okay?"

Izzie caught her bottom lip between her teeth, biting back tears as she watched Sage sob and heard Tia totally not help that fact as she sobbed too. "No, you look fine! It's just shorter, and hair always grows back, and me and T have had bobs and they're super cute!" she tried. But then Tia went on her big mess of a ramble, and Izzie's quivering lower lip finally gave way to tears, too. "It's so our fault. I should never have told you about ViviMeadow and Wayland. It was so mean and dumb and Wayland totally has so many reasons to like you better, because you're amazing." What she'd said to Sage that day in Tennessee had haunted her for months, she was so glad to get it off of her chest that she didn't really think Wayland had no reasons to like her. She leaned her head on Sage's other shoulder and sobbed, letting it finally hit her how much she missed being with the two of them. She hadn't smelled the combination of all three of their perfumes in so long, when she inhaled the realization only made her cry harder. Pulling away, she nodded frantically in agreement with Tia. "Yeah! This could be like, a lob! Those look good on everyone," Izzie sniffled, tucking a few strands behind Sage's ear before looking at the three of them -- three sobbing messes -- in the mirror. She picked up the scissors and handed them to Tia, not knowing how to voice what she wanted so badly to say. "I'm so glad we found you," she gave Sage's shoulders a squeeze. "I um....kind of really miss you guys. Like, what happened in Tennessee still hurts when I think about it, but feeling like we're never going to be friends again hurts even more."

Sage 's mouth parted slightly in confusion when Tia told her not to kill herself, of all things. She knew that her eating habits sometimes were so not a good idea and might like, end up with that happening to her, but she'd never tried to hurt herself like that on purpose. She was too happy that Tia and Izzie were here and crowding around her like they used to before to even care if that was the only reason they'd come looking, though. Sage wrapped her arms around both of them, not wanting to let them get too far away from her ever again. "I'm so not going anywhere now," she promised, tears streaming down her cheeks again. This time they were happy ones, though; she'd never felt as much relief as she felt knowing that they didn't still hate her after all, and that maybe things were actually going to be okay. "I was like, thinking about just leaving Walt forever and going back to my tower or something, if I was going to be locked in places anyway, but I like it here so, so much better. You know, with you guys," Sage said, her voice watery from all the crying. She probably looked like a raccoon now on top of the butt-ugly hair, but she could be the most hideous person in the whole universe right now and Sage thought maybe that would be okay as long as Tia and Izzie didn't leave. "Are you guys sure?" she asked them hopefully, not sure if she was asking about them fixing her hair or about whether they actually still loved her.

Tia tried wiping at her eyes and nodded in agreement with Izzie. "Yeah, it's so our fault. I should've never been so mean to you for standing up for Izzie or to Izzie for sleeping with Huntley when i was the one keeping secrets in the first place. You guys are the bestest best friends in the world and i'm so so sorry I made you both feel like you weren't." She cried, moving to hug Izzie too. She arguably owed Izzie way more than a teary apology and a one armed hug because she still wasn't ready to let go of Sage yet, but that was what she had right then and she hoped it would do for now. "Oh my gosh, I know I didn't act like it but I would've missed you so so much if you'd gone back to your tower. It was supes cray cray of me to lock you up like that and I can't even say i'm sorry enough for that but please be my friend again anyway?" Taking the scissors from, Izzie and stepped back a bit to get a better look at Sage's hair then went to comb all the way through it with her fingers before she began cutting. "I'm so sure. Your face will look so skinny and cute with a really good lob. After a while you'll forget you even had all that hair." Tia promised, glancing into the sink sadly.

Izzie probably would have jumped back into STI even if she hadn't gotten an official apology from Tia, but the fact that she did just made things so much better. It showed that her friends really missed her as much as she'd missed them. "I'm sorry for calling you a spoiled brat, you're just rich! That doesn't make you a bad person." Izzie gave a large squeeze when Tia reached across Sage and hugged her, too, blubbering mascara tears onto Sage's neck. Cheer makeup was so not made for crying sessions. "Never ever ever go back to your tower forever. You belong here, with us," Izzie said tenderly, clutching Sage's hand in her own as she watched Tia start to trim. "Yeah, and besides, hair always grows back. For now, this is just something fresh and new and exciting and it'll be great." So maybe she wasn't talking about Sage's haircut anymore, but Izzie loved a good metaphor.

Sage blinked her still watery eyes. Was she supposed to say it was her fault now, too? Both of them were blaming themselves, and she swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat from crying. "I'm so sorry, I should have figured out a better way to be good friends to both of you guys instead of like, picking a side," she said finally. She had felt bad, seeing the look on Tia's face when she'd defended Izzie over her. Tia had always done so much to make her life better, and she'd acted like one friend was more important than the other. So not cool. "And I'm super sorry for getting mad at you about Vivdow or whatever her name is now," she added to Izzie. "It was super not fair, I know that like, you guys have known her longer and stuff." It was hard for her to get it, since she'd only had Baz and Kori growing up, but she was trying. She was going to try so, so hard to make sure nothing like this ever, ever happened again. "My tower's super lonely, I would have missed you guys so much. Even just like, seeing you guys at cheer practice when you weren't talking to me was the best part of my day," Sage admitted, holding her breath as Tia and Izzie fussed over her hair. The snip of the scissors almost made her flinch again, but this time she was in good hands -- Tia's instead of her own, and she let out a breath of relief when she noticed that all the same length, her hair didn't look nearly as chunky and stupid as it had when she'd only hacked off part of it. "You guys are my favorite people in the whole wide world," Sage told them, trying not to start crying again -- happy tears this time. She didn't want to jerk around and mess up her hair more, but she had a feeling even if she walked out of this bathroom the ugliest girl in Walt, it wouldn't matter to her as long as she had Tia and Izzie by her side.

[beanjuice-duh]

5Pointz

a/n: In memory of 5Pointz being announced for demolition in August of 2014; it was one of the saddest moments of modern-gentrification in NYC history. It was a real shame losing one of the most iconic buildings in Urban Expression only to be made into luxury buildings, I’m sad that the 7train view won’t ever be the same but I’m hella glad it existed and I couldn’t stop thinking about how a certain fictional character would have taken this news.  Summary: Pete takes a blow to his mood, Carla helps a brother out. Warning: Curing and Gentrification talk also this is PLATONIC Carla and Pete. w/c: ~3k

“Sonny you’re late.” Usnavi heard the door swing open; his back was to the front since he was restocking a few shelves. A job that belonged to Sonny but again, he was late. This was around the time Sonny would say something cheerful yet mocking. Something about how he’s family or how much Usnavi loved him. Two years of this nonsense, Sonny was seventeen now and still cracked the same jokes without fail. He was a creature of habits. So every nerve in Usnavi’s body tingled when he didn’t hear any response. “Sonny?” Was he mistaken? Was it not Sonny? When he turned he saw Sonny had moved to the register. His eyes down, as he tapped the keys absently not pressing down hard enough to actually type anything.

Usnavi’s makeshift parenting senses were firing alarms. Something was wrong.

“What’s with you? Tienes un bajon de bilirrubina (you look down**saying not literal translation**)” Usnavi cocked a brow at his direction but it did nothing to lighten his absent somber face. Usnavi drew a bit closer, pretending to be scanning the shelves and not the bags under Sonny’s eyes. When he got to the front desk he found his eyes were puffed, red outlined the waterline of his eyes and worry grappled Usnavi’s chest as it did many of times. It wasn’t easy being a patron figure to a teenage boy. Con cuidado. Tread with care. 

  “So…um…what were you doing last night? Hanging? Chilling?” Crap what did the kids call it now?

Sonny shrugged no comment to Usnavi’s poor grasp of today’s terminology. It was actually painful to see someone who was so cheerful look so devoid. “Nothin’” Sonny pursed his lips as he angrily fiddled with the cashier.

“Ta’bien.” Usnavi started to back away, “Just wondering If maybe you got something on your mind or—“

“I’m gonna check the backroom, k?” Sonny brushed past Usnavi so quickly the wind of his afterimage smacked him in the face. It had been a good while since Sonny acted this way, this distance…Usnavi like to think they were over this kind of teenage angst and they were a lot more understanding and open.

Aye, dios. Usnavi did not want to relive Sonny’s emotional years again. It was time to call in the big guns.

After making a very swift phone call, Usnavi stayed at the front. Sonny didn’t seem to come out from the backroom which, one could say did make a good dupe for Sonny’s bedroom. The smell was about the same. “I came as soon as I could.” Nina walked through the doors, hair a mess, still dressed in her gym clothes. Usnavi eyed her up then quirked a brow. They shared a silent question and answer before Nina sighed, “Vanessa started a Zumba class and I’m beat.”

“I figured, you know she tried to get me to do one of those….sweaty, shake-your-ass classes?” Usnavi chuckled a bit letting Nina catch her breath.

“Ha.” She snorted cutely, covering her mouth with her hand. “Esa loca.” With a short scan of the store, Nina’s laugh was stifled by the lack of chipper hellos and small talk. The store did feel less welcoming without Sonny’s almost unnaturally cheerful, teenage presence. “Where is he?”

“Back room…”

“How bad?”

“You remember the day someone told him feeding rice to pigeons was actually one of the main sources of their death when he was ten?”

“Poor boy couldn’t stop crying everytime he saw a bird…I had to blindfold him everytime we passed the park or it was waterworks until we got home from school.”

“Worse.”

“No”

Usnavi thumbed to the door. Nina didn’t need to say much, she could tell but Usnavi’s tired expression he was worried about him. There wasn’t many things that would put Sonny in such a sour mood. Usually it was something large scale, like politics or news. Nina could only keep her mind on so many topics, Sonny was far better at keeping up to trend with what was going on in the world. She opened the backroom and found Sonny slumped up against one of the 50 pound rice bags, using the produce as a make shift beanbag chair while his hat covered his face and his phone was flat on his chest. “Hey, Sonny” Nina smiled closing the door behind her. “Mind if I…pop squat on the grains?”

She got no answer, not even a hello from her favorite kind in the barrio. Sonny shrugged a bit giving Nina all the ok she needed. “Thanks, my legs are like jello…” the Zumba class was Sean Paul themed, there was just a bit too much leg and hip action for Nina’s tastes. “So…you gonna tell me what’s up or is Usnavi gonna have to start breaking out the Santeria candles from Carla and Daniella’s place?”

They both wished she was joking but if Sonny didn’t start explaining soon the whole store was going to start smelling like rose water and old, waxy incense from the Virgin Mary candles they had laying around. “Pete…” Sonny croaked a bit, the name made Nina’s mouth open into an “O”. This all made sense now that Sonny said that. After all Usnavi had no idea… “He hasn’t said a word to me…he’s been real cold Nina…like…” He sat up, teeth gnawing at his full lower lip.

Teenage romance was always a lot more dramatic than it needed to be. “Its summer, maybe Pete is busy meeting his August tagging quota.” She smiled, but something in Nina knew better. Pete and Sonny weren’t normal teens. In a lot of ways, they were tiny adults. Far more mature than most their age. Seen a lot more stuff, more pain and trails. It didn’t sound right that this would bother Sonny this deeply.

“Its not like him not to talk to me…What if he’s hurt or upset?”

Nina leaned over from her bag of rice, feeling the millions of grains shift her weight making her nearly sink to the ground. With her last efforts she ran her hand down Sonny’s arm (though was actually aiming for his head) and frowned, “why don’t you tell me when you last spoke with Pete?”

Sonny stiffened a bit at the question, he readied himself and slowly coughed out with a slight pink hue forming at the apples of his cheeks. “I…was taking the train back from Pete’s place in Queens.”

“Ok….” Nina smiled, of course masking her immediate need to ask questions. Everything in her screamed for more details of why, how, and what happened but she channeled OUT her father’s interrogatory genes and went for her mother’s understanding. “And everything was fine?”

“It was cool, he walked me to the train station, usually he rides back and leaves me at the turnstile so he can just hop back on the train but…I dunno he got to the top of the station and all the sudden he just said he had to ‘bounce’ and left me there…” Sonny flipped over his phone. He scanned the messages he left Pete. The progression of emojis and playful goodnights then turned into worried ‘hello?’ and ‘you there?’s was almost too painful. He over analyzed every text and every emoji. “He hasn’t spoken to me since…” He roughly placed the cap on his head and yanked it down until the brim was bent irregularly against his nose.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure Pete has a reason.” Nina rubbed his arm a bit more before Sonny fully turned and released a few frustrated tears. Just like those blindfolded tear jerkers back when he was ten, Nina soothed her favorite barrio babysitting boy with soft head pats and promises of lechosa smoothies.

“So Sonny is having trouble with Pete? That’s terrible – “ Carla was rudely interrupted by some of the larger rats that scurried the wet sidewalks of the city during the Summer nights.

‘Hey Mami where are you headed’

‘Heeeey bella~’

“Carla donde en el diablo eres?” (Carla where the HELL are you). Daniella’s voice did not seem too pleased from the other end of Carla’s flipphone. “Don’t tell me you took that malido siete otraves!” (Damn seven again).

Carla quickly covered the phone as she hurried passed somewhat drunk catcallers, up the uneven, iron and trash ridden staircase of the subway. “Dani, I’m sorry but the other trains are delayed, only one runnin is the seven.” She smiled quickly getting on the platform.

“Aye padre santos.” Daniella groaned, “just be careful, ok? I don’t want to turn on my tv and find out that you’re on the news.”

“Oh I’ll be on the news? What for? Will I win something? Like Family Feud.”

“No you’re going to win, where the hell did Carla go, I dunno she was last seen taking the damn 7 train to the ghettos.”

Carla pursed her lips a little, “Daniiii, I don’t think there is a game like that on tv.”

“Muchacha, pay attention to the train, call me when you’re walking home, ok?” Carla could hear Daniella sigh into the phone; she could almost hear her pinch the bridge of her nose too. With soft goodbyes and Carla closed her phone and waited under the dim, orangey subway lights.

Nights in the city were beautiful in a somber way. Things were grayscaled once dusk hit. Everything was a muted color, with a few splashes of bright lights off cars and traffic signals. It was a sea of muddled browns and gray, an ugly background with electric pops of color that brought the nightlife to life. The seven train was a good place to see it all, the brick and iron that rose up from the concrete jungle. Once the seven train left Manhattan it was above ground giving Carla the view of Queens. A flat borough in comparison to the towers of Manhattan and the brick palaces of Brooklyn but it was home to Carla.

The train, as always, stopped at Queensborough Plaza. And as always, it was nearly vacant. Carla almost missed it, but the moment she looked up she noticed a figure sitting on the outer, iron support beams of the train station. “Pete?” Carla blinked then shot up, narrowly getting caught between the closing doors, she squeezed past with all her curls intact. She drew closer, wobbling on her high wedges as she made her way over to the far railing of the subway. She looked down and Carla felt her face grow pale.

What a drop.

“Pete, that you?” She knew that cueball head anywhere, his headphones stuck in his ears as he just stared out. Pensive, even in the dark his expression was still gloomy enough for Carla to take some notice. “Y-You know it’s a little dangerous to be sitting up on the beam like this? I know you’re into that hardcore stuff but I don’t think you’ll do ok if you fall.” Carla spoke shakily keeping her legs as far from the edge as possible. “Pete can you hear me?”

No answer, Pete kept looking forward; his eyes fixated on a building that was just a little too dark for Carla to make out clear enough. With a small nudge of her wedged foot, she poked Pete’s arm and caused him to jerk so hard he shifted off the far side of the beam and pulled his body up so he was standing, the back of his heels dangling dangerously off the edge. “What?” He snapped at Carla, who’s face immediately fell a bit. “…what are you doing here, Carla?” He hissed, taking the headphones out of his ears.

“I was going home when I noticed you were just sittin there like some gargoyle.”

“Yea…I’m not really feeling up to going back to my place.”

“Or the shelter?” Carla knew Pete’s home life wasn’t stable. He left and came back frequently, more often than not he stayed in city run shelters.

Pete shook his head a bit, “not feeling it.”

“Not feeling Sonny either?” He didn’t respond, he looked away, debating whether or not to stick the headphone back in his ears. “You know if something happened, if he did something…”

“Sonny didn’t do nothing.” Pete huffed, “just…something came up…its dumb.”

“Not too dumb, you’ve been leaving Sonny on read.” Carla’s point to the obvious made him cringe. “You know Sonny is real sensitive, whatever is buggin you is buggin’ him, and if it’s buggin him then its buggin Usnavi and if its buggin him its buggin Benny, then Nina, Vannesa, Daniella, then—“

“I get it, I get it!” Pete yelled a little angrier than he liked to be. “The whole fucking barrio is wondering what’s my deal but its stupid no one will get it.”

“Try me.”

Pete paused for a second, and then looked up at the various, criss crossing support beams that framed the upground train platform. “Can you climb?”

“Um…I guess, I use to climb those rocks in Central Park when I was a kid…like once.”

“If you wanna know…you gotta be able to see it….” Pete held a hand out to Carla.

“You…want me to scale the side of a train station platform? Are you…nuts?”

Pete didn’t say a word, he kept his hand out for her as Carla deliberated. With a small huff she kicked off her wedges and took Pete’s hand. The surprisingly strong grip guided her around the iron beam until she was hanging off the outside, very aware that dropping from here was most certain death. “You know if I die, Daniella will kill you.”

“You’re not gonna die, there is a ladder right here that construction uses to fix up the seven.” Pete laughed, as did Carla. It was common Queens knowledge the seven was never truly ‘fixed’ it was a dying line barely chugging along. Keeping her close, Pete helped Carla shimmy across a small strip of metal towards the ladder and began to climb up. Her thin arms shook by the time she got to the top. “Like the view?”

“Oh my…god…Pete…” Carla’s eyes lit up as they stood at the top of the train station, overlooking several buildings. The lights that danced off the windows of the apartments, streetlights were glowing but most importantly, there were large, spot lights all pointing up at a large yellow building.

There was graffiti all over the building, really all over it. It looked abandoned but still so…alive? The function of it was clear, it was living and growing canvas. The original yellow paint of the building poked out between art pieces from armature tags of gang names and signs to pieces of memorials to Biggie Smalls and Tupac. There were images and symbols, from works that were dated and began to melt into the yellow to newer, clearer pieces that stood out vibrantly. Every inch of the building was a work of art, even spots that seemed humanly impossible to reach had a piece. “I know this building; I pass it a few times…It’s a school right?” Carla spoke but couldn’t tear her eyes off it. IT was like no matter where her eyes glanced there was something newto see, another artwork lurking like the most amazing game of I-Spy yet.

“Nah it was a water factory in the 70s, but never came to be. Local taggers started getting to the place until finally in the 90s’ some guy bought it up and never did anything with it. Some of the best Graffiti artists come here. 5 Pointz…from all 5 boroughs.” Pete smiled looking over the building. “First time I saw it…I was 4…maybe 5…my mom and I walked passed this HUGE building and I saw a couple of guys taggin it. They were just writing their names but…their name was right next to some of the greats. Tracy 168, Cope 2, Dan Plasma. They took back the name “vandal” and coined aerosol artist…”

Carla watched the small smile grace Pete’s lips. Pete had no mentor, no artist teacher, he was a student of the city. Of the Urban culture, and she could almost make out in her head a small bald Pete spying on the big time artists. Watching what they did, copying them until he could hold a can. The City was his teacher and for an artist this was the biggest canvas in all of New York. “Did ya ever get to tag anything on there? Maybe we can see it from here.”  Carla squinted her eyes and tried to spy a Peter Ospina original.

“No.” He declared coolly, exhaling deeply from his flared nostrils. “Never got the chance…I’ve been thinking about what I’d put there…nothing ever felt good enough so I practiced for years and…” He motioned to the otherside of the building where bulldozers were parked menacingly around the side.

“…Oh…Pete…”

“They’re tearing it down. The city is tearing down one of the oldest…most urban form of expression. This is a god damn symbol of New York and-and they’re tearing it down like its nothing!” Pete held out his arm in exasperation. “They’re building apartments no one can afford to live in instead.”

Carla felt the anger roll off Pete’s body. She couldn’t lie…she was angry too. “So that night…”

“I was walking Sonny to the train and I saw construction crew filing up I knew…I just had to see for myself and I didn’t want to believe it…” Pete pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes and squeezed with so much pressure, Carla feared his eyes would pop into his sockets. “I know its dumb…I shouldn’t be this mad but…I haven’t been able to let it go…how could they tear this all down? They’re erasing us…whether it’s the latinos and blacks in the ghetto, or the Asians in Chinatown…even the Jews by the Waterfront. Where are we going? Where will we end up? Who's going ’o remember us when the city is white and covered in glass…in buildings to high up they can’t even see out their own asses…”

Pete’s breathing got irregular as his annoyance of his nostalgic building posed more existential worries inside of him.

“It sucks this gonna be gone…” Carla began softly, her eyes looking it over once more. She was happy…Pete shared this with her. She …understood what he meant. It was bigger than just a building full of forgotten art work. It was a statement being whited out and taken off the narrative only to be written over. “But it won’t be gone-gone.” She glanced at Pete. “There won’t be another 5 pointz, but I mean think of all the greats who’ll never know this place? There are other…pointz out there. And you? Pete you’ll carry this place no matter where you go. You remembering this, keeps this alive just like the people who remember us keep us …alive.”

Pete hung his head a little; her words were chipping away at his attitude slowly but surely.

“When my parents kicked me out…I was all alone on the streets. Who was going to remember me? Poor Carla just another statistic of girls being kicked out of the house. Poor Carla will probably end up being a baby mama with no job…poor Carla…can’t go back home so who’s going to care when she’s not around.” She twiddled her thumbs a little. “There is a reason why I always say I’m from Queens…”She muttered softly. “No one would have remembered me if I didn’t find Dani’s salon and begged for a job. And now?” Her hand gently patted Pete’s shoulder. “I got people who wait for me, people who call me, people who will remember me.”

His eyes darted up at Carla who was staring right back at him with a smile. “You sharing this with me? Keeps it alive…keeps you alive…I’ll never forget this.”

They sat there for a long moment, taking in every piece possible trying to ingrain every nuance of color into their minds. Finally Pete stood up slowly and opened his phone. He typed fast, and fumbled a bit making some typos but didn’t bother to fix them. He sent the text and nodded. “Thanks Carla.”

“For what?” She slowly stood up with him, being careful not to fall off the top of the station. She went for the ladder hastily, clinging to the iron bars for dear life.

“For keeping this alive…there…um, there might be someone else I gotta show this to…”

“Oh who?” The curlycued woman waited for Pete to begin climbing down the faded, brown industrial ladder before following.

“Let’s just say I hope Sonny is good at climbing” Pete chuckled slowly scaling down the ladder behind Carla.

[khunvegas]

Saphael Fanfic Rec!

Here are the works I’ve been saving throughout last year since the show first aired and up until this point. Amazing works that show this wonderful pairing and each characterization. All the love to the authors! 

As usual, I couldn’t find some authors’ user names. So, if someone knows the user and tag them, that would be very appreciated

87. Careful is my middle name by tveckling

"And where exactly do you think you're going?"

Raphael's voice came from behind him. Simon hoped his twitching hadn't been too noticeable and turned around with a bright smile that he hoped wasn't too fake. "Just going out."

A Holiday Encounter by @demiromanticmickey

Admittedly, Simon volunteered to help Raphael to try to talk to him, get to know him better. Unfortunately, that wasn't working out so well. It turned out that managing a food drive was a lot harder than Simon had anticipated. And whenever he did try to engage Raphael, he was met with short one word responses before ordering Simon with another task.

A Word Between Two Friends by ofEmeraldStars

“You love him.” It wasn’t a question and Magnus’ voice almost sounded awed by what he said, what he realized, when he looked at his friend at his side whose head snapped to look at him, no longer watching his fledgling.

Answer me (please) by all_their_intricacies

To Simon <3 (3:02 AM): i love you  

To Simon <3 (3:03 AM): so fucking much

Appreciation of art by @fangtasticsaphael

He managed to sit on the bench for at least ten minutes before his phone was in his hand and he started browsing Twitter for anything entertaining before updating his account with a Clary abandoned me in the art museum once again message with a sad emoji before he decided to take a silly selfie for Instagram to kill some more time. Just when he took the photo and the camera sound went off - of course, he forgot to mute his damn phone when he went into the museum, fuck - a shadow fell on his form.

Baby, I'm not made of stone by izzyasavestheday (stilessexual)

“Did I ever tell you that we feel everything? The clan, I mean. If I focus enough, I can tell you who’s sad and who’s angry and who hasn’t been sleeping properly. I can tell you who’s been having nightmares. There are no secrets here.”

(Fix-it fic)

Baby's First Steps by Luuna (you_know_them_trees)

Simon wasn't flustered, he really wasn't. And Raphael checking up on him all the time wasn't a big deal. It wasn't like he had a crush or something.

It might have been true... if only Raphael stopped calling him baby.

Before I ever met you by izzyasavestheday (stilessexual)

“You know that moment,” he said “when you wake up and turn over to put your arms around someone –someone you love, someone who means everything to you.” Magnus’ expressive eyes were soft, soft, soft. “Oh, Simon.” “I feel so alone,” Simon whispered. “Not in the post-Clary sort of way, either. In the way that I’m supposed to wake up to someone and they’re not there.” “I’m missing something,” Simon went on, voice cracking. “I’m missing someone but no matter how hard I try I just can’t fucking remember.”

Bitter Sweet by @abluelightinthedark 

“I… I’m sorry. You just looked like the typ of person who drinks their coffee black.“ Simon stutters and rubs his neck, trying to hide the shaking of his hands. “What do you want then?“

The guy actually smirks at him and lets his eyes wander over Simon for a moment, before he answers.

“What I want from you would be really inappropriate to say out loud in here…“ he trails of for a moment, letting the words sink in and then smirks even wider when Simon flushes bright red in the matter of seconds. “But for the coffee, I would like a caramel macchiato.“

Or

The one where everybody thinks that Simon has a sweet tooth and Raphael loves the bitter stuff, but it's actually vise versa.

Bleed out in my veins by @eversall

How do you stop loving someone? How do you separate your world from theirs, when you’ve been on a collision course since you were six and sharing crayons, your smiles so intertwined that death doesn’t separate you? How do you say goodbye? You don’t, Simon thinks dizzily, dropping to his knees in front of Raphael. You say hello to someone else.

Breathing Is A Side Effect Of Being Alive by booksandanime

When you're alive, your heart beats, your breath catches and comes in gasps, you age and fall in love and die.

When you're undead, your heart pantomimes beating, you gasp for air that isn't needed, you never age, you fall in love, you stay together if you decide to.

This is a story of how Simon Lewis let go of normalcy and thoughts of being a monster in favor of falling in love with Raphael Santiago. (It's not a bad trade, really.)

Brooklyn, brooklyn, take me in by psyches

Honestly, no matter which way you put it, telling anyone you live in a hotel is pretty fucking weird, and it’s not like Raphael has the excuse of a twin brother or a singer mother who works there or the wacky hijinks that ensue.

Or: a brief look at Raphael in a world where Shadowhunters no longer need to exist.

Call me, maybe? by @fangtasticsaphael 

"You're not planning on giving him a plain black shirt for a few hundred bucks, right?" Raphael asked when his best friend was about to enter one of the fancier clothing stores the mall had to offer and the other raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm not planning on buying him a black shirt at all."

"All he ever wears is black. The most colourful your boy gets is wearing grey," he commented dryly and his lips curled into a smirk when Magnus huffed, unable to disagree because Alec really didn't wear any other colours. If black and grey could even be considered a colour.

"Well, that's why I brought you because you always wear clothes as dark as your soul and might actually be helpful in this case," Magnus replied sweetly and glanced at the store before looking back at his shorter friend questioningly.

Candy Kisses by @abluelightinthedark

Three times Raphael doesn't enjoy Simon's kisses + the one time he craves more

Coffee & Spanish by ofEmeraldStars

Simon's eyes land on his good looking guy at the table next to him and when he and his table partner start talking in Spanish Simon find this as the perfect opportunity to test out his Spanish knowledge.

Cookin' up love by @moonlightmaia

“Simon! Dios mío, what the hell?” Simon dropped the fire extinguisher, a sheepish look on his face. The stove behind him covered in smoke and fire extinguisher gas. “Uh, I was just, uh, trying to make dinner?” Sure, Simon wasn’t a great cook, but he certainly wouldn’t consider himself a horrible cook, Raphael’s kitchen was just… very different from what Simon was used to using. Raphael was a professional and so was his kitchen.

Devotion’s desire. by @saphaeldaily

a character study of raphael santiago and how nothing goes the way he wants.

side of simon/raphael.

Disasters that lead to pretty boys (are worth it) by gayinsight

"My friend is out of town and I’m supposed to be taking care of her pet fish but it died and you work at the pet store help me find one that looks the same so she won’t notice!"

Don't just leave it all up to chance by @accordingtomel

“Shut up, Jace,” Izzy commands, glaring at him before turning her attention back to Simon. “Okay, so you know how Clary and I are in charge of the Senior Prom Fundraiser?”

“Oh yeah, sure?”

“And you know how we told you we had everything totally covered?” Clary adds.

Simon glances over at Jace in confusion, but Jace just shrugs.

“Well, we kind of need some help now,” Izzy says.

“What kind of help?” Simon asks slowly.

Magnus snorts like he can’t help himself, which means that he must know what's going on too.

Silence falls over the table for a moment too long before Clary finally comes out with it. “We need you to take a shift at the kissing booth.”

***

Simon gets roped into working at a kissing booth. The consequences, however, are much better than he could've ever expected.

Fight Me On That by @themadtilde

"Well, someone must tell you the straight fact that Gandfalf beats that old wimp Dumbledore so hard that Dumbledore wouldn't even have a chance if they were to duel."

Simon's anger, that slowly had stopped boiling, quickly flamed up again.

"Oh yeah?" he hissed heatedly, slamming his cup down on the table and standing up to be eye-to-eye with Raphael. "Well, fight me on that!"

And then, before Simon could really comprehend what he just had said, he was lying on the floor with Raphael hovering over him, and he felt a throbbing pain in his skull.

(inspired by the tumblr post one day im gonna say "fight me!" and someone's just gonna fuckin deck me

Fire and Gasoline by @degrassi-fanatic

“Those two are like fire and gasoline.”

That’s what everyone said about them.Raphael Santiago was a fire and, Simon Lewis was the gasoline that only further fueled the other. ---- “I’m in love with you.” he came out as barely a whisper.If Simon didn’t have vampire enhanced hearing, he might’ve not heard that.

Forever isn't too long, when i'm right where i belong by moriartyscupoftea

Raphael sat on the living room chair, the cup of tea Magnus had practically forced on him balanced on his knee, while Magnus himself was slouched on the sofa, laughing. "You," he wheezed in between hysterical fits of giggles, "are going to propose? ToSimon?" Raphael pursed his lips, praying for strength from anyone.

Gazing into your eyes, I know I'm home by ofEmeraldStars

Simon didn't expect for Raphael to corner him in the abandoned building, but yet there he was pinning him on the spot with his intense gaze.

How to make your local clan leader blush by scalira

Simon realizes vampires are capable of blushing after he sees Raphael getting flustered, and after that it becomes his mission to get Raphael to blush again.

I dont understand Quidditch (or Love) by @slytherinsimon

Simon Lewis is a Hufflepuff that seriously needs to pay more attention around him. Especially the part where he thinks that his best friend, Hufflepuff seeker Clary Fairchild is secretly dating his Slytherin chaser crush, Raphael Santiago.

I Hope So Too by @bathildahotshot

Simon's not in love with Raphael.

I know what you are (say it) bisexual by thankyouforexisting

Simon tells himself,

It’s not gay, it’s not gay, I’m totally not checking him out, he just had that stain on his right trouser leg….

Raphael is, apparently, a rich as fuck vampire, because the suit shop they go in is fancy as hell. They park in the basement, because, uh, sunlight, and even though dusk has fallen it’s better to be safe than sorry (sorry meaning dead). Raphael keeps smirking, which does nothing to help Simon’s inner mantra that consists of

I’m straight, I’m straight holy fuck is he licking his lip- I’m straight..

“This,” the vampire announces as they walk into the shop, smiling faintly, looking, almost for the first time since Simon’s met him, as if he’s relaxed, “is the greatest place in the world, Simon Lewis.”

He looks at him then, grinning, eyes dark, shining, looking more polished than ever but somehow oddly vulnerable, and Simon’s breath hitches, his insides turning to goo.

His mantra becomes

Let me not jump him, or, at least, not in public..

I Watch It All From A Far (heaven help me) by @geckette

Clary took a sip from her coffee before putting it back down, her face slipping from confused to serious. “Simon. Are you serious? You didn’t know?”

Simon sputtered, his fancy pastry that cost him a pretty penny of 5.78$ flying everywhere from his mouth. Of course, the one time he decides to spend money it gets wasted. “Clary. Oh my god. Clary, I’m dating Raphael."

Based Off This Prompt: Saphael, College roommates AU who find that they have been totally boyfriends for months and hadn´t even realized. Brownie points for cuddling!

If i ever had your number, i think i would use it by @eversall

“Er.” Simon says, but that seems to be enough. “Simon?” Raphael asks. “The one and only.” He says weakly, making jazz hands even though he knows Raphael can’t see them. “Heyyy, Raphael.” “You – why is your number in the Pandemonium bathroom?” . It starts because Jace and Simon get drunk together one night without Clary, and since Clary serves as about eighty-five percent of their impulse control they’re hammered within two hours and ready to implement all of their Very Bad Ideas, the ones that are horrifying enough to make Alec grind his teeth and potentially slap them upside the head.

If you wanna find love then you know where the city is by @eversall

Simon comes back to them immediately. He’s pounding on the door the next night, and Raphael stiffens as he smells the scent of the fledgling. “I’ll go get him.” Lily says, and runs off, her face harsh with anger. She appears a second later, hauling the boy by his collar. His face is ashen with fear – Simon is no good at hiding his feelings. What was it he’s said before? He was born afraid? And his eyes are dark and beautiful, just like always, and Raphael wants to shake him until he understands what heartbreak feels like. . Of course Simon comes back, and of course Raphael is still unbearably in love with him.

In all that's left of you and me by igniteyourbones

how the saphael reunion really went down.

--

“You look awful.”

“Thank you, Raphael, really. This is truly the touching reunion I had imagined for us,” Simon says, ignoring the fact that he’d imagined several possibilities but all of them had ended in Raphael ripping him to pieces.

It Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time by heartsdesire456

Simon ends up in the ER after a drunken dare and meets the potential love of his life.

It's a small crime and I've got no excuse by mostlikelydefinentlymad

Raphael's other half is sat across from a beautiful girl with auburn curls and a copy of Jane Eyre on the table.

He's gesturing at a gray box and giving away a smile that once belonged to mid-afternoons spent tracing the contours of Simon's body, laughter seeping into the halls of the hotel.

Kindred by White_Marker

Once, hidden in the dark and uncharacteristically intimate for both of them, Raphael had mimicked Simon’s movement in bed, inch by inch, like a game. Simon burst out laughing, pulling an outlandish face, and gripped Raphael’s chin. Raphael reached out and pinched his chin in return.

They lifted each other’s faces, moving it left and right, leaned in and pressed their foreheads together. They let go and traced a finger slowly from their collarbone to their belly button.

Like a challenge, they held each other’s eyes, all traces of humor gone.

For a little while, Simon and Raphael felt as if they were mirrors of some kind. Opposite, but the same.

Soon after, though Simon hadn’t made the connection, the first flicker of blue had appeared.

a.k.a.

 Soulmate AU where you slowly start seeing color. Let the angst begin!

Like a halo in reverse by @gilmarverdes

The feeling began to become home. More of a home than vampirism would ever be. He'd stand alone, attempt God, and feel the pain. This is how it is, this is what I deserve, this is what I have become. I am this now. I will always be this. I deserve to hurt—

Until the day that God finally left his lips and remained in his throat, no choking, no burning. Just Raphael and God, severed.

Simon, on the other hand...

"Raphael," he whispers, "I'm so sorry. I thought—"

Raphael feels a twist in his stomach. It is a feeling that he hasn't experienced in a very long time. He needs to lead the clan, he needs to give them justice, but he's alone with Simon, most secure room in the Hotel DuMort like a past life, and all that he can feel is want, hunger, need. There is no room for justice in human want. It's sick. Raphael is very, very sick; this is the only explanation for the humanness, the only explanation for the twists. 

"Do it again," Raphael says, his entire being turning into a betrayal right against Simon's body. "I need you."

Livin' just to find emotion by @joanthangroff

When Simon has to transfer to another school - the DuMort Academy -, the only thing that could save him from going mad would be to join the school's Glee club. Of course, life is not as easy as it could be, and he is denied to join just yet. He somehow manages to persuade the club's leader, Raphael, to prepare him so he can join in the next semester.

Mail for Ezekiel by @fangtasticsaphael

"Hey, buddy," Simon greeted the animal and reached out, gently scratching behind the dog's ear. Ezekiel tilted his head, playfully nudging the man's lower arm and stared up at him in clear anticipation. He huffed out a soft laugh and reached into the pocket of his light jacket, presenting the dog with a thin postcard with the message "Mail for Ezekiel" with two hearts scrawled next to it and beneath it he had written "have a dog-tastic day". Ezekiel seemed pleased as usual and ran off with his delivery while the off-duty-postman turned around to leave.

Master of pillow forts by @fangtasticsaphael 

"What do you think you're doing, idiota?" Raphael asked wearily and frowned at the other's surprised yelp, followed by a pained sound when Simon dropped the heavy book right on his sock-clad foot. He quickly picked the book up again before directing his wide-eyed gaze at the clan leader who stared back at him with the most unimpressed expression possible.

"You're back already?"

"Obviously." Raphael's expression was a mix of disinterest and boredom but his gaze swept over the things strewn across the room in a silent order to answer his question instead of stating the obvious.

Never just that simple by @fangtasticsaphael 

"It's not fake concern. I...I know I've been preoccupied with my own problems and that I didn't...that I didn't think much of the consequences or of...of the position you're in," Simon mumbled sheepishly, hands pushed into the pockets of his hoodie and head lowered while trying to keep up with Raphael's quick steps. It was actually pretty difficult to stick close to the clan leader despite the vampire speed because Simon still wasn't fully used to it and he could more quickly but not as smoothly and effortlessly looking as Raphael.

"The position you put me in," Raphael bit out, correcting Simon's statement with a bitterness that seemed to cut right through the slightly foggy air.

Not Actually Homophobic by @mymalecshinesbright

Raphael was extremely confused. Extremely. He didn’t understand this. He had never felt this before, and yet here he was, feeling it and he didn’t know where it was coming from. But it was here and now he had to deal with the fact that he was apparently homophobic because the sight of seeing his roommate kissing another boy made him want to vomit.

Not Like I Care by ChangeForTheBetter

Simon gets sexiled and seeks refuge in Raphael's room. (Again.)

But maybe Raphael doesn't mind so much.

Of all of the faces, you were the one next to me by  mostlikelydefinentlymad

//if I love you // is that a fact // or a weapon

Of Sleep Deprivation And First Kisses (Or, How Tea Solves Problems) by PossiblyNobody

“You’re my roommate who’s super cute and it’s the middle of the night and you’re cramming for your exams in your flannel pajamas and disheveled hair and it’s becoming increasingly hard for me not to kiss you” AU.

Saphael Tumblr Prompt

On the List of Things (Read: People) Simon Thought He’d Never Do by @rainybookshop

Obviously Simon had missed the memo about his sexual orientation, but he can’t help thinking there might have been smarter ways to find out than by letting himself be seduced by someone who sort of scares the shit out of him.

One cup of coffee (is all it takes to fall in love) by @abluelightinthedark

Simon walks into the Starbucks in only a thin shirt, because he’s an idiot and forgot to take his jacket with him in the middle of november, and opens his mouth to greet his friends, but they are not there. Instead there’s another dude standing behind the counter, his green apron doing nothing to hide his beautiful body and sadly neither his grumpy expression.

Paved paradise by @simonxraph

Not only has Raphael stolen his parking spot and infiltrated his friend group, now he knows that Simon thinks he’s attractive.

Please Daddy by TrickyVicky3

Simon wilts under the pressure, but needing to have the last word he replies sarcastically, “Sure thing Dad”.

Raphael’s eyes widen “What did you just call me?” Simon looks up at him, placing the now empty glass back on the table in front of him as he licks fresh blood off his lips, “Dad, y’know, Daddy, cos like you’re making me –“

Raphael waves his hands in front of Simon “Please stop” he looks around uncomfortably before speeding away.

Professor knows it all! by @shadowhunterships

I saw a prompt on tumblr : I usually talk to my friends through sign language in class but… apparently you know sign language too… and now you know I think your butt is cute.Simon secretly loves Professor Raphael's butt and accidentally spills his secret to the professor himself!

Rhododendrons by @gilmarverdes

Part of him was hoping that he would never have to see Simon again; you rip the bandage off fast so it's less painful, you stitch up the wound quick so it's less painful, you let it heal slowly. These things take time.

But - who was he kidding, he's going to be entwined with Simon until the end of time, it seems. Quite literally.

Set me free by @fangtasticsaphael

His dark hair stuck against his forehead in wet, messy curls and every annoyed huff showed in form of a little white cloud leaving his lips and disappearing into the sky. He was a supernatural being but it was obviously too much to ask for some kind of immunity against the temperatures. Sure, he had to appear human but that didn't mean he basically had to be human.

"Just find the target, make the guy fall in love with the girl and the freezing is over," Raphael mumbled to himself through chattering teeth and pushed his hands deeper into the pockets of his hoody. At least he couldn't get sick but this didn't make the weather any more comfortable. His whole body seemed to be slowed down and stinging from the cold, icy wind pulling at the material of his jeans and the hoody he wore over his t-shirt, his boots kicking up snow with every step.

Shattered hearts by @fangtasticsaphael

"You can't say it back. Why haven't you said so earlier? All the other times I said it? I thought you just weren't ready yet but if you already know you can't love me, why not say it outright instead of leading me on?!" Raphael tried to hide the pain and anger swirling in his chest, masking his emotions with a cold mask.

Magnus had warned him, told him it was a bad choice to start something with Simon because the guy had almost managed to two-time and even if he had been 16 at the time, he still seemed so very undecided when it came to his love life. He clearly couldn't make up his mind about what he wanted, not back then and not now. Raphael had known it was a risk and he had to fight down the urge to place the blame on himself - to revert back to the thinking that maybe him being asexual and aromantic was the reason why Simon couldn't commit to this.

The one person he developed romantic feelings for, the one person he actually fell in love with, and here they were, apparently about to break up on Valentine's Day. It felt like a big, cosmic joke and Raphael suddenly felt so damn tired.

Shelter by @fangtasticsaphael

"I know you're about to close but maybe I could get a coffee?" Simon asked and his voice almost broke on a few words. He squinted a little because of the beads of water on his glasses that probably blurred his sight but Raphael could see that his dark eyes were mostly unfocused behind the smudged spectacles.

"You look like you rather need some tea and a bed," he commented dryly and rounded the counter to walk up to the door, flip the sign and then the lock as well. Raphael didn't care that they were supposed to be open for 20 more minutes. Nobody came in at this hour anyway and Simon's current state was a more pressing matter anyway.

"So, that's a no? You do realise I can't leave when you lock the door, though, right?"

Simon was fidgeting and raised his arm to hide a cough in the crook of his elbow, the sound muffled by the wet material of the hoodie he was wearing - not exactly the right choice of clothing for October if you asked Raphael.

Sign of the times by @joanthangroff

When Raphael is hit by a mysterious spell, Simon has to teach him how to be human.

Simon la Exploradora by RaphaelSantiago

Five Spanish words Simon learnt from watching Dora the Explorer, and the times he said them to Raphael.

Strange crossings. by @sadlyamundane

The universe works in strange ways, maybe that's why Magnus cancelled dinner with Raphael, maybe that's why Simon's blind date doesn't go as planned.

What ever it was, this was definitely the universe crossing their paths.

Sweetheart by @fangtasticsaphael

"It's Valentine's Day, someone probably just wanted to lighten the mood," Lily commented with a shrug and it might have been a slightly weird thing to do so with almost insulting messages on pastel coloured candy hearts but most clan members did think they were funny and a few had actually started a competition about who could find the most hearts - and the ones with the best messages.

"There's one with lol no balanced on top of the picture frame in the main hall. I have no idea how they even got it up there," Elliott informed them while strolling into the room and he stopped behind the couch, right next to Simon's shoulder who tilted his head back and blinked up at the other vampire frowning at him.

"You have one stuck in your hood," the other informed him and before Simon could react he had already snatched it up, eyebrows rising when his eyes read the message on the piece of candy.

Te Extraño (I Miss You) by andy_ros3

To Clary: I don’t think I can do this Clary. Is this even a good idea?? From Clary: Simon you have to do this. For yourself. Don’t worry, no matter what happens I’m here for you. To Clary: You’re right, thanks Clary. Omg we just pulled up outside the club. From Clary: Go inside and stop freaking out. To Clary: I’m not freaking out To Clary: I know your eyebrows are raised. Okay, yes, I’m freaking out. I miss him and I want him and I don’t know why he invited me here. It’s been 3months and 16 days Clary. Why now? Why would he wait so long to contact me for whatever reason? Why was I such an idiot? Oh god what if it’s just to return something I left at his or what if he tells me he’s met someone new and he’s moved on. From Clary: Simon stop. Stop overthinking this and go inside. Simon is about to text back to delay entering PanDEMONium but Clary beats him to it. She knows him too well. From Clary: You’re going to be fine, just go. Simon enters PanDEMONium expecting it to be the usual vibrant, enthralled and booming place but it’s empty apart from a grand black piano where Raphael sits playing a few notes. Simon knows he does that when he’s nervous.

Tendons too torn to beg (for you to let me back in) by @gilmarverdes

What hurts the most, the thing that makes him really ache, is how familiar he is with Simon. He knows the way that Simon smells; sickly, because every fledgling smells sickly, but with Simon it’s all different. Simon smells like – life, like something sick coming back to life. Like hope crawling out of its grave.

 He knows the way that Simon sounds; the unnecessary breaths, the way that his voice mumbles when he talks because he still hasn’t gotten used to his fangs, the wrong thing in his mouth, and the way that he taps his fingers, the exact sound that he makes when he wakes up in the morning. A yawn like a wolf’s howl.

 But worst of all, he knows the way that Simon feels.

The Game of Life by raphaelsontiago

“Why is school so damn expensive?” He grumbled, putting his money back in the bank.

“Maybe it’s because you have six cars full of kids, mi sol?” Raphael smirked and Simon wanted to throw the board across the room.

“It’s not my fault I got stuck with such a big family!” He protested. Raphael chuckled quietly and bit his lip.

“You know, a big family wouldn’t be all bad. Six cars of kids would be a bit of a hassle, but I think four or five kids would be nice.” Raphael’s gaze dropped to the floor and Simon nearly choked.

Raphael was asking to have a family with him.

 or, the one where simon and raphael play life but they spend more time talking than playing the game

The Morning After by simonsantiago

Simon sits up and stares at Raphael’s back. “Are we…uh…dating now?”

“No,” Raphael says and Simon’s stomach sinks. “I don't date people who don’t let me sleep.”

The Path To Self-Discovery by @killjoyrow

Simon is the kind of bright, happy guy who needs everyone to be frends with him. Raphael would prefer to have no friends and save himself the headache.

In theory, they're far better off as distant colleagues - the contrast between them akin to day and night.

In reality, despite claiming to hate each other, the two couldn't be more perfect. It might just take them a little while to realise it.

The Punishment Fits The Crime by  Hailhydration

When daylighter Raphael Santiago is forced to kill a rogue Warlock, the warlock's deranged lover curses him to never have a happy ending. Whoever falls in love with the vampire is destined to die if they touch him. To Raphael, who has long viewed himself as unlovable, this seemed like nothing. Of course, he didn't count on the persistent idiot known as Simon Lewis.

The Thing Is by foggynelson

The thing is: Raphael doesn’t want to love Simon. The thing is: he does anyway.

There is in it, the idea of the fall by scalira

“Angels touched by man cannot stay divine, Raphael. I thought I was very clear on that matter.”

And Raphael knows. He knows. But when he thinks about letting Simon touch him, about his lips pressing down on his, about his fingers tracing his skin, Raphael does not feel doomed. He does not feel tainted.

He feels infinite. He feels bigger than himself.

He feels… he feels human.

This is not what I dreamt it would be by @flying-on-the-wind

Raphael Santiago had always known that his soulmate would not be anything like what his mother had dreamt for him. Simon Lewis, on the other hand, had always dreamt of a soulmate that was nothing like what he got. But are dreams all that important? When real life is a thing that happens, and that you get to actually live?

This is the second part of a series in which soulmates are found upon the touch of skin. Each part will have a different pairing at it's centre, though all three are linked and together they form a fuller story.

Through Hell or High Water by @shadowcastershq

When Clary drags Simon to his local pool, he’s immediately smitten with the gorgeous but completely unapproachable lifeguard.

Till the sun comes up by @aleclwb

Simon takes a deep breath. “71.”

Clary gapes at him. “71?”

“Yes,” Simon snaps, “Yes, Clary, my number is 71. It’s right there,” he waves her wrist around, a little too aggressively, so it’s actually impossible to read. “The seven and the one. 71. My soulmate’s going to be 71 when we meet.”

Or, everyone has a number on their wrist that indicates how old their soulmate will be when they meet. Simon is trying to deal with the fact that his is abnormally high. It turns out not to be such a bad thing, after all.

Turnabout is Fair Play by @accordingtomel

“Uh, Raph?”

Raphael glances over at Simon with raised brows, using a finger to hold the place in the book he’s reading and shifting his attention towards him.

“Is there a reason that Magnus is sending you pictures of him and Alec kissing?”

Simon turns the phone around to show Raphael said picture.

“I think the better question is why you’re reading my text messages in the first place,” Raphael says, and reaches his free hand out, gesturing for the phone.

***

In an attempt to annoy Raphael, Magnus starts sending increasingly adorable pictures of him and Alec kissing. However, it's Simon who comes up with the perfect solution to get him back.

Until We Say "I Do" by heartsdesire456

When they had become engaged, it had been like a switch had flipped with their mothers. They were still very happy for them and they both were waiting with open arms to welcome the other into the family. No, the problem was not dislike.

The problem was that for some reason, the minute a ring came into the picture, both Raphael’s mother and Simon’s mother somehow immediately and independently became obsessed with their son’s future husband converting to their religion.

Upheaval by crystalclark94

Simon, well, he has the most unusual / off the beaten path twist of words etched across his ribs that he’s ever heard of. The font is an elegant black crawl with perfectly dainty pretty loops and swirls, and it says “Dios, I’m going to eat you if you don’t shut up!”

Variation on the word (sleep) by mostlikelydefinentlymad

"You can stare at me later you complete sap, come'ere." Simon pats the bed, awaiting the slight dip of the mattress. Raphael remains where he is, adoring.

Simon grumbles into his pillow about romantic vampires and kicking Raphael out to sleep on the sofa if he doesn't get his ass in bed.

Warmth & Light by foggynelson

“I’m cute, huh?”

“Oh shut up,” Simon says, lifting his heading up and looking at Raphael. “You’re absolutely gorgeous and you fucking know it.”

Wear my heart a little louder by @eversall

Raphael sucks in a sharp, unnecessary breath, eyes snapping up to meet Simon’s gaze, and he sounds, for the first time, the way Simon feels; like he’s coming apart at the seams with no hope of being pulled back together. Simon looks away, wants to backtrack and erase his temporary moment of weakness, because he’s not allowed to have that. . It always comes back to this - Simon trying to run away but being rooted to the spot by everything that lies between them.

When “You mean nothing“ turns into “You mean everything“ by @abluelightinthedark

There are two ways someone can whisper into your ear with their lips against your neck.

For one, it can be sweet, gentle, soft, hot, pleasant. A warmth, the feeling of being loved, someone taking care of you, kisses, relationships, compliments.

And then there are the times it’s threatening. A knife against your throat, death so close in front of you, fear. You feel scared, uncomfortable, want to cry. Screaming, kicking, then staying still, shaking, hurting, hoping, praying.

Simon unfortunately had to experience both ways in his rather short period of living.

The thing is, it was the same person every time.

Where my heart and future lies by scalira

Raphael hasn't been home for the holidays in years. Still being haunted by a tragedy that happened years ago, he isn't planning on visiting this year either. Until he gets a very persuasive email from a very angry man named Simon Lewis.

Where There is Fire by CastingMoonlight

Raphael is patient when Simon spirals into despair.

Because Raphael knows, and now Simon knows, and Fairchild will never understand what she did to him in the name of love.

Words of the prophets are written on the subway walls by @joanthangroff

After a fight with his current roommate Raphael Santiago is left with moving in with his old friend Magnus Bane. Naturally, this means lots of headaches for him and weird people stepping into his life.

You were always gold to me by mostlikelydefinentlymad

They take away the good in Raphael and reduce him to teeth like talons, a heart of stone. They don't even have to say the words when his name comes up - "He's a monster."

No, Simon wants to say. You've never witnessed him stripped bare, armor lying at his feet with a softness in his eyes that makes Simon want to turn away. But they were present when the high walls around his heart became a weapon. They heard the words "Kill them" and glossed over what wasn't being said - 'Of all the people, why did it have to be you? I wanted you to stay.' Nor did they hear the full extent of Simon's betrayal, how it cut straight into tendons where it bled the most - 'Is it too late to go back?'

They cannot see the gold in him.

You’re an asshole, Mr Santiago! by @fangtasticsaphael

He heard the sound again and it made his hair stand on end because the creaky wood noise sounded like someone walking very slowly, dragging their feet with every step and it was like right out of a horror movie. Simon suppressed the ridiculous urge to go knock on the door to his mother’s and sister’s room but he also felt like these sounds were far from normal and what if ghosts were real after all?! It was the middle of the night, he was still tired and his brain did not function properly - he was allowed to think stupid shit!

Simon couldn’t tell why it seemed like a good idea to snatch up his key and leave his room but that was exactly what he did. Not to investigate the creepy sounds, he knew how such things turned out and he didn’t have a death wish, but to get further away from the noises. The dimmed lights in the hallway made the old hotel look even eerier and a few steps away from his door he severely regretted the decision to leave his room. He turned around to head back, saw a dark silhouette at the other end of the hallway that definitely moved and…he bolted. No.fucking.way!

You're in the right place by ghostfacers 

Simon Lewis is an average high school teacher just trying to make sure the future generation gets there. He never asked to get his room moved next to the one guy in the whole school who probably hates him the most. That's all Luke's fault.

You're the one that I want by @sadlyamundane 

“Hypothetically” Simon said pushing his Spanish text book away, he leaned back in his hair and watched as Raphael chewed on the bottom of his pen in concentration. “Hypothetically” Raphael repeated, propping his head up on his hand to show that he was listening. “If I liked someone, but I don’t” Simon hastily said when Raphael quirked an eyebrow “but if I did and I wanted to know if that person likes me back, what do I do?”

For more Saphael Fanfics

[ylla]

Friday Night Gurus - Chapter 5

Series: JJBA Ships: josuyasu, koichi/yukako (others will eventually happen too, but im tagging as i go) Tags: celebrity au, modern au, pining, recreational drug use (smoking that wacky tabaccy), meeting some of the fam, dirty talk, dicc succing, josuke and okuyasu go on a learning journey together Rating: E (YEAHHHH TIME FOR SOME SEXY STUFF)

AO3 link

LONG TIME, NO SEE. Sorry for taking 10000 years to update. I’ve got a 20 hour unpaid internship, 20 hour work week, and a full class load on top of it all. I’m slowly losing my mind! :’D But, I’ve been plugging along at this for awhile, and now it is bearing fruit, so I hope that you all will enjoy the new chapter. I can’t give a time frame of when I’ll have the next one up, as I absolutely have to update TMBTP and also finish a commission, but hopefully it will be sooner than later!

Also, fair warning, this chapter is where the fic earns it’s explicit rating :’) I hope the smut isn’t awfully written, and if it is, it’s due to me hooting like a 12 year old the entire time I wrote it.

A FEW THINGS OF NOTE:

- manxom has given me the good content, and helped me flesh out FNG so much, that i gave them co-author status! They’re real, and strong, and my friend, and has really helped me shape the AU!

- puffle-tuff who is a friend and boi drew Oku and Josuke watching RHoA together! FOLLOW THEIR ART BLOG, THEY’RE SO GOOD! 

- emberandcelica made a spotify playlist for FNG, and it’s really good! So go check it out when you get the chance! 

As always, remember to comment on the fic, kudos the fic, and bookmark the fic to see more of the same fic content.

The worst part of being a world-famous musician, in Josuke’s opinion, was the tedious amount of boring business shit you ended up sitting through. Contracts, scheduling interviews, planning photoshoots; it felt endless at times. Really, being in the business of being yourself could be so dreadful, and Josuke avoided as much as he could. He was a busy man, with a 3 week young relationship with an amazing guy and a load of other horseshit to take care of. The only way Koichi could get him to stay in one place long enough to go over everything was to corner him while they ate at a restaurant, which was exactly what was happening at that moment as they waited for their significant others to appear. “Morioh Records wants you to come by sometime in October to talk about your contract with the new CEO,” Koichi passed Josuke the email he printed out. Josuke made a face while reading it before sliding it back across the table. Morioh Records was his label, and while they had always been good to him, Josuke hadn’t heard anything great about the new guy in charge. He scowled, “I’m good through the next year, why does he wanna talk to me about it already?” Koichi shrugged, “He wants to get all of his ducks in a row, I guess.” “What’s his name again?” “Kira Yoshikage.” “Never heard of him,” Josuke sniffed. “He was some anonymous board member that somehow got appointed as CEO when the other guy retired.” Koichi pulled out another piece of paper, “Last thing, I swear,” he quickly added when Josuke rolled his eyes so hard, they looked like they were about to pop out of his head, “Calvin Klein called, they wanna do another underwear ad campaign with you.” Josuke perked up at that, “Really? Hell yeah, I’m down.” “Thought you would be. I’ll email them and say you’re up for it,” Koichi looked at his phone with a slight frown, “I figured Yukako and Okuyasu would be here by now. Wonder where they are…” As if summoned by magic, Okuyasu and Yukako blew into the private room they were in. Oku had a strange look on his face as he plopped down in the chair beside Josuke, “Keicho has a girlfriend he didn’t tell me about,” he said in lieu of a greeting. Yukako pressed a kiss on Koichi’s forehead before sitting in the chair beside him, “He doesn’t have a girlfriend.” Okuyasu pointed a finger at her, “They go on dates. And you should’ve told me.” “They aren’t official, and it’s none of my business,” she replied, inspecting her nails. Josuke furrowed his eyebrows, “Wait, what?” Instead of responding, Okuyasu fished his phone out of his pocket, and opened up a text message before handing it off to Josuke, “It’s easier to just read it.” Clearly, it was something that was bothering his boyfriend; Josuke turned his eyes to a group chat titled DICKHEAD. Okuyasu: yooooo who wants to get wings with me tonight????? Okuyasu: keicho u gotta come with Big Bro💣: No. Okuyasu: well y the fuck not??? Big Bro💣: I’m busy. Okuyasu: too busy for ur little brother??? breakin my heart over here ;)n(; ☠Fungi☠: oku what the fuck is that face Okuyasu: ITS ME!!! IM SAD!!!! Okuyasu: bro what r u doin thats more important than eatin food ☠Fungi☠: yeah keicho, way to be transparent with your bros Big Bro💣: It’s none of your concern. Go eat gross shit with your boyfriend and don’t annoy me with it. :| A bunch of text messages were Okuyasu and Yuuya needling Keicho, with him responding with various ways of saying ‘shut the fuck up’, until Yukako spoke. YuYu Kakosho👊💥: He’s probably seeing that girl I caught him with back in March. Okuyasu: WHAT ☠Fungi☠: oh shit Toilet Hazmat🚽☣: kek Okuyasu: U DIDNT TELL ME??? Big Bro💣: Goddamn you, Yukako. You said you wouldn’t say anything.  YuYu Kakosho👊💥: I’m tired of having my phone blow up. Get it out of your systems now. ☠Fungi☠: you got a girlfriend, keicho?? Someone strike up the band Okuyasu: Y DIDNT U TELL US Big Bro💣: 1) She’s not my girlfriend, and 2) You two screaming is exactly why I didn’t. The rest of the messages were just Yuuya sending suggestive emojis and Keicho threatening to inflict violence upon his person. “Sooo, he’s seeing someone?” Josuke asked. Okuyasu scowled, “Yeah, that blonde-haired fuck. He didn’t tell me.” He sunk down in his chair, face sullen, “Why would he hide that from me?” “Because Keicho never tells anyone anything about his personal life,” Yukako interjected, face neutral. “I’m his brother—” She raised an eyebrow, “I’ve only known you people for three years, and I can see why Keicho Nijimura keeps everything close to the chest.” Koichi had busied himself with his phone, “Don’t take it to heart, he most likely has his reasons.” “Still, we’re all the only family we got left. I don’t wanna hear about things in his life from other people.” Yukako sighed exasperatedly, “If it makes you feel better, the only reason I know this is because I happened to see him with her at that coffee shop.” “What were they doing? What does she look like?” Josuke leaned in. He didn’t care about Keicho or his love life, but he sure did love hot gossip. “Talking. He had his hand on her arm, she was blushing and giggling. Typical flirting.” Yukako took a sip of Koichi’s tea, “She’s not like any of the other girls I’ve ever seen him with; no tattoos or piercings. Has long, curly brown hair, blue eyes, petite. I’d put her at about 5'2 or 5'3. Very pretty."  "Damn girl, you really have an eye for that kind of thing,” Josuke said thoughtfully, “How did he find out you knew and how did he buy your silence.” “Took a picture of them together, sent it to him later that night. Got a promise that he’d do me favors in exchange for me not repeating what I saw.” Josuke whistled, “Cold-blooded.” Yukako merely shrugged, “That’s the nature of the beast.” Okuyasu sighed, but said nothing. Josuke frowned a little at him, “Since you don’t really have plans, do you wanna get pizza with me and some of my family tonight?” Oku waved a hand, “Don’t need ya to take pity on me.” At that, Josuke rolled his eyes, “I’m not, I want you to come out with us. You gotta meet them anyways.” “Hmm…who’s gonna be there?” “Polnareff, his boyfriend, my nephew, his husband, and their daughter. Pol’s sister may be there too.” “…Does this place have wings?” “All you can eat.” Okuyasu smacked his hand on the table, grin replacing his scowl, “I’m sold.” “Good shit, I’ll let them know,” Josuke brushed his hand over the one Oku smacked down onto the table, “You’ll like 'em, they’re good people.” “Josuke,” Koichi interrupted, “I emailed the Calvin Klein people. They’re going to get in touch with us to schedule the shoot.” “C-Calvin Klein?” Okuyasu stuttered. “Yeah, doing another underwear ad campaign for them.” “O-oh. That’s…good…” Okuyasu’s face was blood red.  Before Josuke could ask what was up, a waiter sprang up to take their orders. Questions for another time.

Meeting at Pineapple Larry’s Pizzeria for dinner, followed by a couple hours at the arcade was a tradition that dated back ten years. Originally it had just been Polnareff, his boyfriend, Josuke’s nephew, and his now husband, but then grew to include Pol’s little sister, Josuke’s niece, and Josuke himself.  When he and Okuyasu breezed in, Josuke was in the process of warning him that his nephew was taciturn, his niece would bully him into playing Street Fighter II, and that everyone was great, save for the fact that they liked to put pineapple on their pizza. Josuke couldn’t give anymore heads up when his 5 year old niece went flying into his boyfriend’s arms. “Oku!!!"  "Hey, it’s my favorite bunhead!” Okuyasu caught her in a hug, “How you been, Jolyne Cuisine?” “Good!” “Uh, what?” Josuke asked, perplexed.  Jolyne waved at her uncle, “Hi, uncle Josuke!” Okuyasu did a double take, “Uncle?” She looked between the two of them, “Uncle Josuke, do you know Oku too??” “Yeah, he’s my boyfriend–” Jolyne gasped and hugged Okuyasu harder, “Really?? Wowie, that’s awesome!” She grinned, her front left tooth missing, “Now I’m gonna have two cool uncles.” Josuke felt his face go crimson, and was only mildly relieved when he saw the same color mirrored on Oku’s face. A man with flaming red hair, cherry earrings, and tattoos strolled up to them, “Jo, don’t choke him.” “'Kay, daddy! I’m gonna tell pops that Oku’s here!!” She hopped down, and took off towards the back of the restaurant.  “Sorry, Okuyasu,” Noriaki Kujo smiled, “You know how she can get.” “S'fine, I uh, didn’t know you guys were related?” Noriaki laughed, “Yeah, Josuke’s technically my uncle.” “What the fuck, dude, why didn’t you tell me you knew Oku??” Josuke asked incredulously. “Where would the fun be in that?” Noriaki responded with a toss of his singular hair curl. Josuke learned as they walked to the table that Okuyasu had been patronizing Hierophant Green, Noriaki’s tattoo parlor, for a long time. “He did me and Keicho’s memorial tattoos for our mom,” Okuyasu explained as they followed Jolyne to the back. “Not to mention all those cover-ups,” Noriaki shook his head, “Whoever allowed you two to get those monstrosities should be hanged.” Jotaro, Jolyne, and Polnareff were already at the table; Jotaro was reading through a thick stack of papers, but threw up a hand in acknowledgement that he was aware of their presence. “Bonsoir,” Polnareff greeted them, “Mo is running late, but he’ll be here soon,” his face turned into a grimace, “And my precious little sister will not be joining us today, as she has a date with some man she has yet to introduce me to.” Noriaki took his place beside Jotaro, “Is it the same one she’s been seeing all this time?” “Yes!” Polnareff groused, hands up in the air. “They aren’t even dating! She says it’s 'casual’ and 'non-exclusive’,” he used air quotes while talking. Josuke and Okuyasu sat down. “Not to change the subject or anything,” Josuke started, “But the fact that all of you have met Okuyasu before really took the wind out of my sails.” “He hasn’t met Av yet.” Jotaro pointed out, eyes not leaving his paper. “That is true,” Okuyasu said helpfully, “I ain’t met him yet.” He rubbed Josuke’s shoulder, “It’s all gravy.” Their orders were taken and well on their way on coming out before Avdol showed up. “Apologies,” he said, while kissing the top of Jolyne’s head, then Polnareff’s cheek, “Had a student with a crisis, but it’s all resolved now.” He turned his attention to Okuyasu, “And this must be the boyfriend I’ve heard so much about,” Avdol stuck a hand out, eyes twinkling, “Mohammed Avdol, pleased to make your acquaintance. Everyone calls me Mo or Avdol, so feel free to address me as either.” “Uh, likewise,” Okuyasu shook his hand nervously, “Polnareff talks about you alot.” Josuke snorted. That was the understatement of the century. Avdol elbowed Polnareff as he settled down beside him, “Hopefully you’ve heard nothing, but good things.” Polnareff was affronted, “Excusez-moi? I’ve done nothing, but sing your praises to everyone. Perhaps I should start revealing the truth.” “And what truths do you have to reveal, Jean?” “That you are mean to me, you insult me, you don’t appreciate anything I–” Jotaro rolled up his substantial pile of papers and started smacking Polnareff in the head, much to Jolyne’s amusement, “Shut up, no one cares.” The Frenchman would not be silenced, “Betrayed by my own flesh and blood!” “We aren’t related, jackass.” Thankfully, the pizzas and Oku’s wings picked the right time to come out.  Josuke made a face at the Pineapple Larry’s Pineapple Larry Special, which was a Hawaiian pizza. Which Josuke hated with an almost irrational passion, so he scarfed down his little margherita pizza (Oku tried the pineapple. Final verdict: pretty damn good). “Hey Oku, when’s ya birthday?” Jolyne asked between shoveling huge bites of pizza in her mouth. Okuyasu was on what was probably his 27th wing, “October 10th.” Josuke spat his drink all over Polnareff, who immediately started shrieking and ran off to the bathroom, “That’s literally two weeks away! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” “It never came up.” “We gotta throw ya a party,” Josuke whipped his phone out. “Nah nah, don’t worry about it,” Okuyasu put his hands up, “S'fine, dude.” Josuke rubbed his arm with one hand while texting with his other, “Don’t worry about it, we’ll get you and a bunch of other people shitfaced.” Okuyasu was about to protest, but Noriaki waved him down, “Might as well accept it, Okuyasu.” He stood up and stretched, “You guys ready to head to the arcade?” Jolyne hopped up and posed, “I’m ready!” Avdol followed suit, “I’ll go coax Jean out of the bathroom.” As Avdol walked away, Okuyasu leaned over to whisper in Josuke’s ear, “Hey, let’s go back to my place after we get done here.” “Sounds good, sunshine."  "Come on guys, I gotta beat you in Street Fighter!!” She started tugging on their shirt sleeves, “Losers have to buy ice cream!!” “You’re on, kid.” Josuke challanged.

“How the fuck did she get so good at Street Fighter?” Oku asked as he finished their shared joint, blowing the smoke into Josuke’s mouth. Josuke held it, then blew it out before answering, “Noriaki is a big nerd. He’s rubbed off on her.” “She’s five.” Josuke shrugged, “I beat Super Mario World when I was five.” They were sitting on a bench underneath a large open window facing out towards the back of Okuyasu’s apartment complex. The arcade trip had been a lot of fun, if you didn’t mind getting schooled at Street Fighter II by a 5 year old playing Blanka. This was the first time Josuke had been to Oku’s apartment in the entire time they’d know each other. It was nice, but didn’t feel like anyone lived in it. 'I hate being alone, so I go sleep in one of Keicho’s spare rooms, Yuuya’s couch, or with you. This place don’t really feel like home, ya know,’ had been Okuyasu’s explanation. The major upside to this place was that the Official Head Roadie and Weedman of Arrowhead, Hazamada, lived directly below Okuyasu. The two of them collaborated on a sick beat while pounding on the door to Hazamada’s apartment, inadvertently pummeling him in the face when he poked his head out to see who was knocking. Josuke almost pissed his pants from laughter; they got a shitty little joint, two middle fingers, and door slammed in their faces for their trouble.

When they lit up, Josuke straddled Oku’s lap and taught him how to shotgun smoke. It took a couple of tries, but eventually he got the hang of it. What followed was intense grinding and sloppy kisses. Josuke was very away of the problem poking at him, but was content with letting Oku twist in the wind for a bit. Then they fell into comfortable conversation, interrupted by the occasional tongue action. “Speaking of games,” Okuyasu stood up and stretched, his shoulders popping in a way that sounded painful, “let’s play something.” “What you got in mind?” “Hmm…” Okuyasu tapped his chin, “How about Metroid Prime 2? I never finished it.” He walked over to his entertainment stand, “I’ll get the Wii hooked up, could you go get my strategy guide for it?” “Why not just look up a FAQ for it?” Okuyasu kept his back turned to Josuke as he sat down to fiddle with the cords, “That guide’s got pictures. Sometimes reading a lot makes my head hurt, so they help.” Josuke nodded, but spoke when he remembered Okuyasu couldn’t see him, “That’s fair. Where is it?” “There’s a big box with "Books stuff” written on the side, filled with old magazines and shit in my spare room. It’s probably in there.“ Okuyasu’s spare room was were odds and ends went to die. The room was full of boxes and clutter that needed sifted through. At first, Josuke thought locating the box Okuyasu had indicated would be an impossible task, but miraculously, he was able to find it lickity-split. The box in question was filled with well-worn magazines and tattered strategy guides. It took a minute, but Josuke was able to find what he was looking for quickly. However, curiosity got the better of him, and he couldn’t help but sit on the floor, and peruse a few of the magazines. Guitar World, Kerrang!, Alternative Press, Rolling Stones; Okuyasu had quite the catalogue. There was a Rolling Stone in particular that, for whatever reason, drew him in. He picked it up and made to flip through it, but noticed that there were some pages stuck together. With care, Josuke peeled the pages apart to find his very first Calvin Klein underwear ad. The ad spanned two pages: one page featured him in nothing but briefs, biting his lip while staring into the camera, arms behind his head. The opposite page was more or less the same, except he had one hand on his chest, the other on a lollipop stick; his tongue peaked out of his open mouth, curled around the lollipop. The pages were covered in some residue. What the fuck did Oku spill on— he thought to himself, until a voice in his head interrupted. It’s semen. He masturbated to your undie ad. This was his spank bank. Josuke became very aware of how sweaty and red-faced he had become. Gently, he rose from the floor, guide and magazine in hand, and returned to the living room. "About time,” Okuyasu said, tongue slightly poking out of his mouth as he struggled to kill an Ing Warrior, “Was gonna go send a search and rescue party to find ya.” Josuke said nothing in response. Instead, he held up the spunk-covered pages, “I see you were a fan of my ad work.” Okuyasu’s face went on a journey from confusion to terrified. “Uhm…” he fidgeted nervously, already starting to sweat, “I can explain…” If he was about to explain it away, Josuke didn’t even give him a chance. He all but leapt onto Oku, shoving his tongue down his throat. A sloppy, heated makeout session ensued, with both of them groping at each other like a pack of horny teenagers. “You know,” Josuke panted, pulling away long enough to catch his breath, “We never cashed in that raincheck.” Before Okuyasu could respond, Josuke slid out of his lap, down in-between his knees. “I wanna make good on it,” Josuke rubbed the pronounced bulge in Okuyasu’s pants, “Can I suck you off, babe?” It seemed that Oku had been rendered completely speechless by that question. After a few seconds of processing what Josuke said, he could only manage to nod dumbly at his boyfriend. Josuke flashed him a wicked grin before pulling Oku’s basketball shorts and boxer briefs down in one go. A slight moan fell out of his mouth when he saw what awaited him. Okuyasu had a huge dick, and Josuke was delighted. It was long, thick, and throbbing; he couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. “Oh fuck, baby,” Josuke bit his lower lip. “Wh-what?” Oku found his voice again. Josuke glanced up at him, and found that his face was puce and covered in sweat. “You look tasty.” With that, Josuke swiped his tongue all the way down Oku’s shaft, pleased at the whimper it elicited from him. He wrapped his hand around Okuyasu’s cock, pumping it roughly, “Is this what you thought about when you jerked it to me? What my mouth would feel like? How I’d sound when I’d beg for your cock?”

“God, yes,” Okuyasu gasped, covering his ruddy face with his hands.

“No baby, look at me when I fuck you with my mouth.”

Okuyasu didn’t remove his hands, but he peaked at Josuke through his spread fingers, eyes wide. Good enough, Josuke thought to himself as he took Oku’s dick into his mouth. Unfortunately, Josuke wasn’t blessed enough to not have a gag reflex, but he made up for it by harshly jerking the inches of Okuyasu he couldn’t fit into his mouth.

Not that his boyfriend seemed to mind. He was too busy moaning and cursing as Josuke prayed at the altar that was his dong.

Either his succ game was too strong, Okuyasu hadn’t known the touch of another person upon his penis in a long time, or the fact it was just Josuke Higashi-goddamn-kata giving Oku’s dick the business, Okuyasu panted out, “I’m close,” after a few minutes.

Josuke pulled back off his dick, still working the shaft, “Where do you want to cum, beautiful?”

“Your mouth,” Okuyasu grunted, voice rough.

Josuke pressed his tongue against the head of Oku’s cock, “Be a good boy and fill my mouth up. Coat my tongue.”

The dirty talk sent Okuyasu over the edge; he let out a single “Fuck!” as he spent himself in Josuke’s mouth.

Hot cum glazed Josuke’s tongue. He waited patiently until Oku was done spurting before showing him the load, and then making a big show of swallowing it. Unable to help himself, Josuke licked the head of his cock clean, revealing in the shudders that he felt pass through Okuyasu and the winded expression on his face.

Josuke stood up, feeling triumphant, “I’m gonna get a soda. You want some water?” He didn’t bother to wait for a response, as he walked into the kitchen.

As he pulled out a can of soda, he was acutely aware of his own boner. It was a problem that needed to be taken care of, but he just sucked the soul out of Okuyasu through his dick, so Josuke felt that it might be poor form to demand a blowjob. Perhaps later—

He was brought out of his thoughts when he felt Okuyasu press up against him from behind, palming Josuke’s dick through his sweats, teeth on his neck. Unconsciously, Josuke hissed, arching his back into his boyfriend. “I’m not the kinda guy to leave someone hanging,” Okuyasu spoke into his ear, voice like sandpaper, “I’m gonna suck you off, angel. Turn around.”

Josuke didn’t need to be told twice. He spun around, pulling his dick out; Oku backed him up against the counter, before kneeling in front of him. As if hypnotized, Okuyasu gently wrapped his callused fingers around Josuke’s cock, slightly stroking. Josuke’s breath hitched at every stroke. After a couple of minutes he groaned, “You’re killing me, dude.”

“S-sorry,” Okuyasu whispered sheepishly, “Jus’ appreciating the view.” As if he was ravenous, he dove down onto Josuke’s cock, taking it all the way to the back of his throat in one go. “Jesus H. Christ, do you not have a gag reflex,” Josuke stuttered out, completely taken aback. He didn’t get a response, only a devilish look from his boyfriend.

Curling his fingers into Okuyasu’s unmade hair, Josuke just tried to enjoy the ride. He was unable to keep his hips still; the longer he felt Oku’s hot tongue or throat clamp around his cock, Josuke thrusted more and more into his mouth.

Okuyasu pulled his dick out of his mouth for a moment, “You can facefuck me if you want.”

“You sure?”

Yet again, he received a response in the form of a look and the feeling of Oku’s throat against the head of his dick.

Not one to deny such a polite request, Josuke snapped his hips, fucking Oku’s mouth. His eyes rolled up into the back of his head; he wondered if this is how he’d fuck Okuyasu’s ass eventually. The thought of it made Josuke’s inside clench, and he couldn’t stop himself from groaning out Okuyasu’s name over and over again while he shot jets of cum down his throat. If he wasn’t so spent, he would feel embarrassed how quickly he came, but goddamn did that feel good.

Okuyasu waited like a good boy until Josuke pulled out of his mouth before he swallowed and stood up. Both of them eyed each other with worn out expressions. Josuke was the first to break the silence, leaning over and softly kissing Okuyasu, who returned it, “Metroid?”

“Metroid.”

“You know, if I went back in time and told myself a year ago that Josuke Higashikata would suck my soul out through my dick, I’d whoop my own ass for being a liar.”

Josuke snorted, eyes trained on his phone’s screen as he organized Okuyasu’s birthday party, “I ain’t a succubus, Oku.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, demon.” Oku was brows were furrowed, trying to not die while fighting Quadraxis.

“So, you jerked it to that ad of me, like, pretty frequently?”

Okuyasu sighed, cheeks going pink, “Yeah. I bought that issue when I saw those pictures in there. It gave me a lot of inspiration.”

“Man, that really feeds my ego.”

“Don’t be getting a big head, Higashikata. It’s already massive.”

“Fuck you, there’s nothing wrong with my head!!”

Okuyasu cackled, which quickly turned into a groan of frustration as he was squished to death by Quadraxis, “Fuck this robotic piece of shit. I’m gonna go to his house and burn it down.”

“He lives in the game, you can’t do that.”

“I know, I know,” he rubbed his face, “Still wanna though.” He looked over at Josuke, “You know, you don’t gotta throw me a party.”

“I want to,” Josuke replied, “It’ll be a good time. I’m inviting cool people.” At the apprehensive look on Oku’s face, he continued, “All of them know about us, so no worries there. You’ve already met most of them, and my family will be there.”

“Okay, then that’s fine. I think. Jus’ make sure to invite Keicho and all them too.”

“Don’t worry, I will,” Josuke said soothingly, “This will be a lot of fun, I promise. Nothing bad will happen.”

He hoped that his promise would ring true.

[toomanyfeelings5]

as close as i can get to you

agatha upshur and gemma alexander take jake’s advice. 

@webseriesfemslashexchange it’s time for webseries femslash february, and this is for @witchhunterscallthepolice! who i can’t tag for whatever reason? but i hope you see this! here are some british unups, as per your request. i hope you like it! might post it on ao3 later, who knows. 

song title is from “333″ by against me! 

i also played to this song a lot while writing, so for maximum sappy feelings, feel free to give it a listen. 

happy femslash february. :)

“hey agatha, i think what you did with gemma was really cool. personally, i think you should kiss her and stuff, but that’s just me, it’s your life. you do you.” 

“it’s not just you, jake,” agatha mutters at the screen. which, ok, this is all a bit pathetic, but she’s just saved the whole fucking country or something, so just--just give her a break, please and thank you. 

the rest of the video is predictably adorable because hello, this is wally we’re talking about, and alright, daphne seems chill. maybe she could teach agatha sword lessons after that dinner or something? that’d be cool as hell. 

“aggie, i...love you a lot, and i can’t wait to talk to you soon, ok?”  

it’s this part she replays the most. 

love you too, she texts him, adds nerd a second later. 

g’night mum, talk to you tomorrow, she texts again, and makes sure to send at least ten sparkly heart emojis. it’s a competition they have to see who can send the most hearts in one given message. spread the love, all that gooey bullshit. still. she does it and only cringes a little. 

after that she puts her phone on her bedside table and passes the fuck out. yeah, it’s 10pm on a friday night, whatever. she’s gotten into the habit since the id had entered her mind. easier to sleep than deal with an ancient creature shacking up in her head at all times, isn’t it? 

shut up, of course she’s right.

except the id’s not there anymore. in her head, that is. obviously. doesn’t mean she doesn’t dream about it though.

agatha wakes up at--jesus christ, 4:33am, really?--and she’s breathing hard and there’s a phantom pressure in her head, a whispering voice that sounds like hers except--except it’s all wrong, and she is angry and tired and she’s so alone and she can’t-- she can’t breathe--

“aggie?”

fuck.

“...aggie?”

in and out. deep breaths. in and out. 4:40am. “yeah?”

“can i--is it ok if i come in?”

“...m’kay.”

gemma is cautious and careful and quiet as she steps into the room, but she isn’t tentative, and that makes all the difference. she passes agatha a crumpled tissue from her pajama pants pocket, and mumbles, “you wanna talk about it?”

agatha wipes her eyes, blows her nose (it’s loud and honking, always has been; gemma cracks a smile, so agatha does too), and feels the weight in her chest lighten. gemma doesn’t look away. they both know exactly what she’s doing, and this time agatha lets it happen. she lets herself be calmed. she breathes and feels the air fill her lungs. 

“bad dream again,” she says after a moment, and god, her voice is hoarse. “id bullshit. i didn’t--i wasn’t myself.”

gemma nods and scoots onto the other side of the small bed until they’re sitting up together, shoulders touching. 

agatha stiffens for a second before leaning into the contact. she feels warmer now. she swallows hard. “i think...i think the worst part about all of this is that like, the id stuff isn’t...it’s not new. like, there’s always--for a long time, i’ve felt like this. not constantly or anything. it still happens though, you know? with the id it was just...amplified. all of the bad stuff in my head times a million.”

gemma shifts closer and rests her head on agatha’s shoulder. “yeah.”

agatha breathes in, and it’s not just so she can smell the shampoo in gemma’s hair, but it’s still really nice and really pretty and just because she’s having a bit of a crisis doesn’t mean she can’t be really fucking gay. 

after a moment, she keeps talking, because gemma helps her be brave. “i’m scared.” she grips gemma’s hand tighter and mumbles this into her hair, and maybe that will mean that she can take it all back in the morning. “i’m scared that none of this will go away. that i’ll always be like this. that the id’s gone, but i don’t--i don’t feel better. i miss wally and mum all the fucking time. and i was so awful, i’m sorry--” her breath hitches, and she has to turn her face away, and now she is blinking furiously at the ceiling and she’s crushing gemma’s hand--breaking it, she thinks, you’re breaking her hand--you’re breaking her-- she lets go, feels empty--“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry--”

gemma shifts so agatha has more space, and says in a voice that is hoarse like hers, “you don’t have to be sorry. ok? hey,” she whispers, and agatha takes the extra tissue from her hand. “hey. i’m here.” 

and then, when agatha is done wiping her eyes and blowing her nose again, and when she isn’t shaking so bad, gemma leans forward and kisses her forehead. “i’m here.”

agatha nods. “ok.” 

gemma clears her throat. her voice is hushed and steady, like a heartbeat. “you’re not going to be like this forever. you’re not the id, and the id isn’t you, and the bad stuff is a part of you but it still isn’t you, not ever. does that make sense?”

“mmph,” agatha mutters, and slouches so she can rest her head against gemma’s shoulder this time. “i guess.”

“that’s the spirit,” gemma says, and agatha can feel her smile with her whole body. 

they stay like this for a while. the part of agatha that never wants anything to change, that misses spock the guinea pig running around wally’s room, that misses trying on mum’s old dresses when no one else was home, that misses the ancient finger-paintings hung up on the fridge, wants this moment to be forever. 

her eyes glance at the alarm clock: 5:08am. 

she has to ask, so she does. “did i wake you up with all of my emo angst bullshit?”

gemma shakes her head furiously. “no, no of course not--”

“please just tell me. i’m not going to flip out this time. promise.”

gemma clenches her jaw, and agatha can feel a slight, pulsing nervousness jitter across her skin. “i--you didn’t wake me up. not exactly. i was dreaming, and it--it wasn’t a good dream, and i needed to make sure that...that everything was real again, i guess? and--and i felt you. not like, literally, just--i knew that you were upset, so i got up and walked to your door and then you answered and then i felt real.”

she says all of this in a rush, and agatha feels the air whoosh out of both of them. they breathe together. gemma speaks again, slower now, like she’s never said this aloud before. “it’s hard. feeling everyone’s emotions, not being able to tell which is theirs and which is yours. you were right, before. you were being a jerk, but you were right about some of it. i hate getting mixed up in things, i’m not good at showing how i feel. but it’s like-- if i’m not calm, if i can’t balance everyone out, if i’m not there--it’s like, if i get mad, everyone gets mad. if i get anxious, everyone gets anxious. if i don’t know what’s real, then no one will.”

agatha huffs out a laugh, lifts her head from gemma’s shoulder because her neck is cramped, and shifts closer so they can hold hands again, if she wants to. “that is fucking awful. i don’t know a troll’s tit about what that’s like. this is very serious, don’t laugh--very important stuff here--ok, but for real, how can i help?”

gemma stops giggling, and after a few seconds she takes agatha’s hand. “i don’t know, honestly. i’ve never--people try to help, to make it easier, and nothing ever seems to work--” something flashes in her eyes, and agatha feels a deep and old anger swoop into her stomach-- “they keep wanting to fix me. no one ever really cares about demons, especially demons like me. i’m just a nuisance to everyone.”

sadness replaces the anger now in agatha’s stomach. it settles in deeper than the anger had, and it is gaping and cavernous and ancient, and it aches. agatha swallows the lump in her throat, feels her eyes burn. she thinks about how gemma has felt everyone else’s most vulnerable, fragile, dangerous, destructive emotions, and how halting she had been, how jangled and stilted and refusing to rise to any bait, refusing to lose control.  

her hand is hurting slightly because gemma is holding it a bit too hard, but that’s fine. a few weeks ago, she would never have held her hand at all. agatha marvels at her for a moment, because she can and because gemma really is so beautiful it hurts, and she blurts out, “you don’t need to be fixed, and you’re not a bloody nuisance. you’re perfect.”

gemma blinks, then laughs again, because she thinks it’s a joke. “what?”

“i’m serious,” agatha insists, pushing her hair behind her ear, face heating up. “i’m serious, gemma. we saved the country together. your power--yeah, it’s complicated and shit, and it’s hard sometimes, but it saved us. it saved me.” and before gemma can argue and before agatha can take any of it back, she looks at her and repeats, “so you’re basically perfect. not in a movie way, or a creepy pedestal way, or a supermodel way, or whatever, but you are. at least to me. and that has to count for something. that’s real.”  

gemma stares at her. there is something unfurling between them in the soft early morning light, and they can both feel it, and they share this together, this quiet loosening in their lungs. 

eventually, agatha can feel her hand get sweaty. glances at the clock: 5:33am. gemma hasn’t stopped looking at her. her eyes are so gentle, and she asks, “can i kiss you?” and agatha breathes, “yes,” because she has never been very patient, never has been one to sit and wait and miss out on all the fun--

they take jake’s advice. 

gemma is cautious and careful and quiet as she kisses her, but she isn’t tentative. neither is agatha. 

when they stop, it is 5:38am. soon they’re both lying down, and gemma tucks herself against agatha like it is the most natural thing in the world, and they’re both blushing and smiling and that’s how they fall asleep, dreamless and unafraid and safe. 

it’s the afternoon when gemma wakes up first. her voice tickles agatha’s hair. “hey.”

agatha groans. “mmmph?”

“i’ve got something to say.”

agatha opens her eyes a bit, at least enough to look at her. cracks a smile. “spit it out then, c’mon.”

gemma pokes her arm. “you’re such a dork.”

“and? what is it?”

she doesn’t hesitate. “i care about you a lot, agatha upshur. in like, a girlfriend way. just thought you should know.”

“yeah? i care about you a lot too, gemma alexander. in a girlfriend way.”

when they are ready, agatha lends gemma one of her old sweatshirts because it’s cold in the flat, and gemma helps fix the star in agatha’s hair. 

they hold hands all the way to the tiny flat kitchen. allistair shoots them a smug look, the bastard, while erika rushes to give them the last bit of tea. 

agatha has barely taken a sip when allistair marches up to her, eyes wide, and announces, “i’ve found this website called television tropes.” he even pauses for dramatic effect, fixes his messy bangs, and grins like a loon. “i know what a manic pixie dream girl is.”

“good god,” agatha swears, nearly flinging her earl grey into the air. “what have i done?”

erika bustles over to them and supremely ignores allistair, who is practically vibrating with excitement. “have you read the coven’s fury at all, agatha? it’s quite informative, and i think you’d like it.” before agatha can object and before allistair can start talking about whatever else he’s discovered on the world wide web, she says, “it has lesbians.”

“got me there,” agatha grumbles into her tea. 

they all laugh, and it’s like any other saturday in the flat, except gemma’s fingers rest on top of hers, and agatha smiles just for her, and really, that makes all the difference.