#Like yeah soon they won’t get to see him again for decades

[completeoveranalysis]

[6]

I got to precisely here when I realised Yuuko was "technically" telling the truth even when she lied earlier in the story. Or, er, later in the story. In Lava Lamp's flashback - when she said she’d never met Lava Lamp’s parents but names them both. And she was TECHNICALLY correct, in that she hadn’t met them in their current lifetimes.

But she HAS met Sakura and Syaoran in their past lives, many times, and knew their names and they would remember her etc. SO LIKE. 

THAT WAS CHEATING. 

I KNOW CHEATING IS HER JOB BUT WOW

THERE HE IS AHHHHHH

THIS IS SO CUTE

And we finally get to see them both on the same page with all their faces visible AND with the full knowledge of who they all are!

We’ve come so far.

In any other story this would be such a weird thing to celebrate and yet

Also it hardly needs to be said at this point but hey look I was right about that architecture thing too! This is the place!

AWWWWW

AWWWWWWW

HONESTLY INCREDIBLE 

Not only that they love him so much but that Sakura is SO GLAD that she GETS TO BE HIS MOTHER is such a unique take on this and I’m so thrilled for them all. 

Even when Syaoran is training his son in preparation for The Struggles he’s going to have to deal with all on his own for (?) years, they still get to genuinely be happy and really treasure the fact that THEY get to be the ones to raise him.

help the emotions

[trustmypoison]

SKZ being whipped for you

Genre: lots of fluff

A/N: First SKZ reaction!

Chan

He expected this. He expected to be mercilessly made fun of by his members the moment he admitted being into someone. Still, it doesn’t keep him from flushing bright red and finding the nearest hiding spot. And oh man, if they do this while you’re in earshot, he’ll wish the ground would open up and swallow him whole. Be nice and reassure him, and maybe even defend him against his group members for good measure. 

Minho

Deny, deny, deny. You could not be dating at all yet or be together for a decade and he’ll still brush off any commentary about how he acts around you. It might even be so convincing that you sometimes forget all the little things that he does for you. But his members won’t. They’ll rage about the privileges he gives you. He’ll roll his eyes and say, “Are you kidding? I did that for you yesterday.” Sometimes you think it’s just so he can watch his friend’s head explode, because he most certainly did Not do that thing yesterday. In quiet, private moments though, he’ll remind you that you do, in fact, have all of the privileges.

Changbin

Unashamed. Did you think he’d be embarrassed by how into you he is? Absolutely not. Couldn’t fathom it. At least - not when his members comment on it. He’ll say, “Duh. Of course, I am. Have you seen them? Have you met them?” It’s a brag for him in a lot of ways. However! If you tease him about it, he might get a little shy in the early stages of whatever is going on with you two. Expect that to wear off, because one day soon he’ll have no shame about nodding his head and agreeing with your observations with a smile.

Hyunjin

This might be subtle, but it will be the little things. Like, your text always gets opened and responded to promptly, even if he should really be doing something else. Or your his first call when he has a rare day off and wants to do something. Or heaven forbid someone take a peek at his sketch book because it often features you. He might be a little secretive about his feelings, if only to spare himself the teasing he might get if he makes it too obvious. But if you call him out on it, he’ll freely admit it.

Jisung

Does NOT know what to do with himself. Totally overwhelmed by it sometimes. It’s painfully obvious even to you, because you can just be existing in the same room and he’s fixated on you with heart eyes. I can actually see this as being something that he might be kind of self-conscious about if only because he wants to be more poised or more thoughtful in expressing his feelings. Match. His. Energy! Let them make fun of both of you!!!

Felix

Sickeningly, tooth-rottingly sweet. I don’t know that many of his members would really even tease him very much about it because it’s just too heart-warming. When he’s whipped, it’s just too easy to get swept up in the romance if you’re on the receiving end of it. Honestly, they might beg him to tone it down a little - which he will not. Not as long as you like it, anyway.

Seungmin

You’ll get partner privileges here too, but that might be the only sign. And he will not give you those partner privileges easily. You ask him to hang out and he says, “You can’t stand to be away from me,” like he wasn’t rushing to put on shoes. You call and he answers in a split second, but asks what you could possibly want because he’s busy (even though he is already thinking of a way to get out of whatever he's doing). He buys coffee or a snack and when you thank him, he’ll say, “Yeah, yeah, you’re so needy”. He might even act so put out that he’ll get scolded by some of his members to be nicer. But the thing is… it’s all a ruse!!! Agree when he says these things to throw him off his game!!

Jeongin

CASUAL. Yeah, he’s into you. Yeah, he wants to spend all his time with you. Yeah, he bought you a little gift again for the third time this week. Your point? It sucks allllll of the fun out of teasing him, the baby of the group, because he’s so unbothered and he’ll continue to do what he wants. It’ll actually make YOU whipped if only because of how unabashedly he admits it. 

[inkk-tv]

[ ꜰᴏᴏᴛʙᴀʟʟ ᴘᴜʙ ɢᴏʟꜰ : ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ]

He can hear it in her voice, wants to hear more of it. “Yeah?” “You know,” Lucy’s got this smile on her face, something a little coy, teasing even. “If this wasn’t for a video, and we were on a night out, I’d probably take you to the bathroom to snog.”

in which: Arthur strggles with the will to move on.

5k words [ part two ] [ masterlist ] [ unseen (coming soon... ]

[warnings: excessive drinking, sexual innuendos and sexually explicit content]

Arthur doesn’t think he’s been this gone since uni, when he lost all his muscle mass after quitting boxing and pints were one two pound each. The walk between one beer garden to the next is nowhere near as sobering as it felt at age nineteen with worn down trainers scratching against the pavement. 

It’s got him dizzy, that light headed floaty feeling that only arrives after at least six standards and a distinct lack of food.

Starting the day hungover did him no favours, he’d vomited up all the food (and the first two drinks) he’d consumed at pub number two. Somehow, he’s still gone. Probably the empty stomach and all of one glass of water’s contribution.

Pub seven came with another beer garden and the fresh air helped immensely. So does the pot plant at the end of the table- an emergency puke spot that’s a better alternative than the astro turf. Arthur doesn’t quite manage to snag the seat on the end and he’s not close enough to chundering to ask for it but if worse comes to worst, he can lean past Lucy to puke. 

She'd probably kill him if he vomited on her. Infact, Lucy’s staring at him like she knows he’s thinking about it. 

“You’re so gone.” A smile cracks her lips as she talks, leaning in a little closer to inspect his face and the semi-vacant look in his eyes.

Arthur feels his cheeks flare up in a blush. He’s not a prude or a soy-boy by any means, but it’s been a while since he’s had a girl that was as pretty as Lucy in such close proximity. His last few nights out have been soured by everyone’s attempts to get Chris to chat up a girl, which leaves a bitter taste in his mouth at the reminder of how painfully straight his best mate is. Then again, it is Arthur’s fault for going and ending up completely head over heels for straight man, an experience he became well acquainted with in his uni days. 

Fancying Chris was an old hat for him, Arthurs had the better half of a decade to get acquainted with the misery of it. Devastatingly enough, his type is painfully cookie cutter. Blonde, around five-five or five-six, athletic and able to dish it out as good as they can take it. 

So he’d always sort of strayed away from Lucy Bell. She’s the right shade of pretty that scares him off, not keen to make a fool of himself by making it obvious how fit he thinks she is. That’s gone out the window today. 

“George is gonna take me home to sleep on his couch.” he offers, holding his phone for her to see the open text thread. “He’s worried I’m going to choke on my own vomit.”

“He’s so good.” Lucy goes to grab his phone, and Arthur hands it over easily.

Her fingers are a little clumsy with it, but she manages to open the imessage widgets and send George a game of connect four.

She does that a lot, Arthur’s noticed, the little games on her phone. He’d watched her do the wordle in the park while they waited for the production team to finish getting sorted. The evidence of their naughts and crosses games are littered up the insides for their arms- her left and his right. Now she’s started up another one with George. 

Arthur wonders if she knows chess. He doesn’t ask though. “If you lose, George is gonna think I've fallen off.” 

“One connect four loss won’t kill you.” She says, rolling her eyes.

“Hurt my pride maybe.”

Lucy tuts, like he’s given the wrong answer. “Well don’t worry, I never let George win. Even when we’re drunk.”

“Is connect four a normal thing for you when you’re drunk?”

She shrugs. “Gotta get the boys interested somehow.”

“Don’t think you need connect four for that, Luce.”

He must have gotten it right that time, because, although still looking down at his phone screen, some semblance of a smile appears. Smothered by the way she bites at her bottom lip to contain it but most definitely there. “Flattery gets you everywhere, Arthur.”

Flirting is a bad idea. They’re both fairly drunk and the last time he’d been this drunk and tried to flirt with a girl, was Ibeza when he told the story of getting a hard on from a surfboard and having a wank in the ocean. Lucy still has a somewhat respectable opinion of him, no need to go and drag it through the mud. 

But at the same time, he can’t not flirt with her. 

There’s an opportunity presenting itself here, something in her words. He can hear it plain as day, she fancies him too. Arthur’s gotten better at picking it over the years, what it means when a girl sits close enough to press their legs together, fiddles with his fingers or asks to compare hand sizes. (Flo, his flatmate at the time, had to explain that last one to him after he’d left some poor girl at a club, not realising she was interested in him at all)

He can hear it in her voice, wants to hear more of it. “Yeah?”

“You know,” Lucy’s got this smile on her face, something a little coy, teasing even. “If this wasn’t for a video, and we were on a night out, I’d probably take you to the bathroom to snog.”

He sits up a little straighter, the way he always does when a compliment is lobbed at him, brain playing catch up to make his posture better, his jaw a little tighter, presenting the best version of himself. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She repeats with a smile, looking him over. “But I get the vibe you’re not that kind of guy.”

“I can be.” Arthur says, feeling the need to assure her that he would, if she showed up on future nights out and asked. “Depends on the person.”

Lucy purses her lips. “Waiting on someone special, are you?”

He can’t help but glance back to where Chris is stood, chattering to the camera and his production team. 

“Ah.” Lucy lets out, nodding her head a little as she connects the dots. “It’s Chris isn’t it?”

“It’s not- I mean, I’m not hung up on him or anything,” he scrambles to defend himself, because he's never really had to explain it to anyone else besides his older sister, and he’s never had to lay it out drunk before. “But I feel bad sometimes, talking to people at some bar or club when I still kind of fancy my best mate.”

“I don’t blame you. He’s easy to fancy.”

And Arhtur’s learnt to spot it, so he hears the way she says it. The same way she’d been speaking to him. Only this time, she wasn’t talking about him. 

“No,” Arthur looks at her for a moment, as she squints at the screen to read whatever text has pinged though amidst the game she seems heavily invested in. Something that feels like disbelief hammers about in his chest. “Surely not.”

Lucy glances up to give him a flat look. “You are literally the last person who can judge me.”

“You’ve got a better chance than me.” He offers, because yeah, she does. Lucy’s proper fit, she’s funny and she’s smart. If she went up to Chris on any given day and asked him out for coffee, there’s no doubt in Arthur’s mind he’d say yes. “At least he likes women.”

She bites at the inside of her cheek as another message pings though, Arthur’s phone buzzing silently. “I put too much effort into getting over him to backtrack now.”

“See, I saved your pride.” She says with a smile, sliding his phone across the table to display the connect four game, a little crown spinning around on the screen.

He sort of wants to say something else. 

Encourage her to go for it. But part of him is selfish, wants to keep her to himself. Maybe if he does that mindset she’s built will rub off on him and Arthur can claim some of it for himself. 

Arthur doesn’t want to backtrack. 

It’s in her eyes when she looks at Chris, the resignation, the decision to get over it. He wonders if there’s truth to it, if this really was a night out, and Lucy had spent an hour drawing naughts and crosses up the inside of his arm, that she truly would snog him in the bathroom. If he’d take her up on the offer. 

He could fancy her, if they got talking one day. 

Maybe at one of George’s house parties. She used to go to those. 

Or at a club. Arthur could imagine her there. She’s the kind of girl that would have guys scrambling to prove themselves, peacocking about and buying her drinks to win her favour, wanting nothing more than to take her to a club bathroom, push her up against the wall and lick into her mouth. 

Maybe she’d let them push her to her knees, like she’d done to him an hour ago. Maybe she’d go home with them and let them kiss her into the mattress. He’s seen comments about it, when she features in videos, what people on the internet thinks happens behind closed doors or how they reckon they would pull her.

Arthur doesn’t think that sort of thing suits her though. 

Lucy’s the kind of girl that should be treated right.

If it was him, he’d ask for her number, maybe kiss her goodbye before leaving- so she knew he meant it. Bring her flowers before the first date, hold her hand and buy her coffee in the morning. Arthur would work for it, work for her. 

For a few moments, as everyone else settles around the table, he entertains the idea of it, going out with Lucy Bell. She would be fun to waste time with, Arthur can envision her curled up on his couch watching a nature documentary, her head in his lap or back to his chest. Maybe she’d go to the theater with him, or to see the new exhibitions at the museum. 

The two of them could have fun, be good together. 

He stews on it while Cal dishes out shot glasses to them all, smells his own with caution. One more would finish him- It would probably finish off any of the English team. Lucy’s a little more giggly than she had been earlier in the day, and the little nose scrunch of displeasure she does has been appearing much more frequently. She’s getting cuter by the minute.

There’s only two fake shots in the mix and luckily he’s been handed one. Maybe it’s because Cal can see how gone Arthur is already and is preemptively slowing down his alcohol intake. But skipping one shot probably won’t make all that much of a difference when they’ve still got two pubs to go. 

It takes his brain a few seconds to catch up with the fact he’s supposed to trick the other team and cringes at the ‘burn’ of it a smidge too late. Becky knows him well enough to spot it and they come out of the challenge three-nil, to Germany. 

The penalty is a choice between three points or three shots and Chris speaks for all three of them when he decides, as captain, that they’ll take the points. 

Harry takes Lucy inside with the aim to get some for the six of them. Arthur watches them go, she’s wearing these heels, chunky platform style ones with delicate little silver buckles that are just high enough that he’s worried she might tumble. She’s steady though. He wonders if a few more standards will change that, if by the time they’re all ready to head home, she’s gonna be the one needing piggy backs instead of handing them out. 

His phone pings with a text. It’s from George, asking how he’s drunk enough to misspell every word in his texts but still win connect four. It’s accompanied by a rematch.

Georgie Poo [connect four]

Arthur 2 Idon’t think i can wein Luce har my phone

Georgie Poo luce? as in Lucy Bell?

Arthur 2 Yeah< Shes prety gon too Still betterr off than me rn< Cna we take her home too?<

Georgie Poo you don’t mean my house right? she hates it. too dirty. and Alex is here. they don't get on.

Arthur 2 No nono< Liek ehr flat.< Don’t want her onthe tube alone.<

Georgie Poo how noble of you, king Arthur.

He almost tells George to fuck off but it might not come across right over text and if George does actually fuck off, then Arthur will have no one sober to keep him sane and offer advice when he inevitably considers doing something stupid, like asking Lucy Bell to snog in the bathroom.

Admittedly, Arthur does give the game of connect four a go as Chris settles down next to him, more so that he doesn’t stare and inspect every aspect of him that somehow managed to pull Arthur and apparently Lucy Bell at some point. 

“Look at these biceps man…” Chris murmurs, pushing up the sleeve of Arthur’s jersey. His hands are softer than they used to be- the change in focus at the gym evident though less calluses and crack on his palms. 

He licks a thick stripe up the skin of Arthur’s arm. “Oh my god.”

It doesn't get much of a reaction, Chris’ been licking him all afternoon. All their lives. Arthur, for a while, used to think it was a them thing. That it was just something about him that made Chris want to sink his teeth into or run his tongue over to taste. He knows better nowadays of course, and if he didn’t the accumulating tally marks on Lucy’s arm would be telling.

“Such little fat on there.” He pinches and pulls at the skin of Arthur’s arm. Picking the next box in connect four is a little harder, hearing the praise, knowing Chris’ eyes are on him and only him. 

The bite comes half a second later, and it’s enough to actually get Arthur pulling away. “Oh my god.”

Nowadays, the biting is so common that it doesn’t even make Arthur’s stomach flutter anymore. And when it’s time to leave the pub, and Chris hauls him up, arms looped under his and braced on his chest, murmuring about how good Arthur smells, he realises he is far too drunk to unpack it. 

So many compliments had been lobed at him in the last few hours. They swirl around his head in a dizzying storm. It’s got him stumbling. 

He’s not lying when he walks out of a store, a hundred and twenty quid poorer with a pair of shoes in hand that aren’t even for him and says, “Financially and emotionally, I’m in ruins.”

But he’s on camera and there’s not a whole lot of time to pour his guts out on the pavement, cry about how he feels guilty for wanting to ask out a girl he’s only just met and still being hung up on his best mate. 

Looking at her, feeling his stomach flutter when she laughs, it’s different to checking out a girl at some club. This is Lucy, she’s not just some chick, she’s so intricately woven into the lives of his friends, and how she’s not managed to end up in his before, is a mystery. 

It seems that everyone knows her. 

He knows she’s Geroge’s gym buddy, and that she works in the fellas offices with more than half of the UK Youtube scene. Evidently she’s got some kind of friendship with Chris- he talks about her fondly, with nicknames and stories- and they must have spent enough time for her to get hung up on him for a while.

“Do you fancy her?” Becky’s question sort of throws him, not just because of the implication, but more so because he hadn’t even realised she’d appeared at his side.

He blinks a few times, slinging his arm over her shoulder, more on instinct than anything. “What?”

“Lucy, Do you fancy her?” Becky asks, slurring a little with a smirk on her face, like she already knows the answer already. “She thinks you’re ‘well fit’.”

She makes air quotations when she says it, and Arthur wonders where she possibly would have heard Lucy say that. Unless she’s kidding. “Is that a direct quote?”

“Oh yeah. When you were opening up a new overdraft to buy Harold shoes, he asked for one word to describe you.”

“Well-fit is two words.”

“She said it’s hyphenated.”

Yeah, that seems pretty on brand for what he knows of Lucy Bell. 

The question is dropped though when Becky stumbles over her next word and he lays into her for it, sending the pair of them spiraling into laughter as she continues to butcher it. 

Further ahead, he can see Chris and Stephen in some sort of playful scrap. Today’s been a good day for Chris. 

It’s been an iffy few months, some days where he seems like he’s on top of the world, others where he doesn't leave or let anyone in his flat. Arthur’s been worried about him, most of their friends have been. He’s moving in with Gorge and Arthur Hill in a few months, the three of them flat hunting every other week. Everyone agrees that it will be good for him, to get out of the home he shared with Shannon. 

He doesn’t talk about it; the break up. Everyone’s walking around it like broken glass, the remnants of Chris’ love life splintered and shattered on the floor. Nobody even knows why it happened. He’s not said anything to Harry, Will or Arthur- just avoids the elephant in the room. 

For some odd reason, he seems okay with the jokes, but any serious talk, he shuts down quickly.

There’s a group of them that’s pretty dedicated to keeping his spirits up. Arthur has been ending up at pubs and bars most weekends with Chris, George and Arthur Hill. Will and Lucy make efforts to check in with him at the office- even his production manager Jess gives them updates, although they are admittedly becoming less frequent now that it’s been a good six months. Even Harry drops by his flat once a week or so. 

Things might be different if he wasn’t so weird about the whole thing. Six years was a long time, but being so shut down about it all, even after half a year, was worrying.At least he doesn’t seem hung up on it.

Arthur wants to move on.

He doesn't want to be holding out hope for the same guy. Not for a seventh year in a row. Analysing every little comment and action amounts to nothing everytime a hinge notification appears on Chris' lock screen.

He'd tried it himself, for a few weeks. It was too weird, to read a comprehensive list of character traits and decide if he could like them a few dates down the line. None of them ever felt right. With chat that was a little too dry or an over-fascination with the title 'youtuber'. Tinder hadn't worked out for him in uni, so why Arthur thought Hinge would now, he's not entirely sure.

Meeting someone organically has always been better for him, at a bar or in some club. The problem was that Chris' latest ventures as a single man meant he actually went out with them all. Nights that used to end with a girls number in his phone or his legs tangled in someone else's sheets now conclude with an uber home to someone's flat- whoever's closest- and passing out on the couch.

It's hard to chat someone up when Chris is sitting at the same table, a physical benchmark of all Arthur's preferences that he can't help but compare them to.

Sometimes it's worse, when he goes to Chris' flat and there’s a ripped off club-band on the kitchen counter. Or when he shows up to filming and the ink stain of a club stamp on the back of his hand. To know that Chris is going out, looking for someone to be his other half in places Arthur isn't. It's as much of an answer to his affections as Arthur would get.

He wonders if it pricks at Lucy the same way. The club stamps Chris never cares to wash off, telling of his night, lingering when she sees him in the office.

The thought sticks in his mind as they finish off the last pint of the afternoon, sending Chris off as their champion of drunk keepy-uppies and watching Stephen stack it and effectively eat pavement.

Lucy leans into him as she laughs warm and solid against his side, a steady presence that reminds him of what he could have. 

She’d made it clear she was interested, Left the ball in his court. 

At the next pub, whenlucy heads inside to find herself another glass of water, Arthur makes vague excuses of needing a piss and follows her inside to the bar. 

She’s leant up against it, one foot planted on the ground and the other crossed over it, tapping against the wooden floorboard. There’s a cup of water in her hand, a pink and white striped straw poking between her lips as she drinks it down. She smiles around it as he joins her at the bar.

“You know that thing you said about snogging?”

Lucy turns to look at him. “Hmm?”

“Would you?” Arthur swallows thickly. He might be about to make a fool of himself but it’s worth the risk. “Or was that just banter.”

“I would.”

Arthur can feel the blush rising on his cheeks and there’s a smile pulling at Lucy’s lips as she glances once out the door then back towards the bathroom sign. 

Her hand is a little cold in his, from the half drunk glass he abandons on the bar. Arthur’s nerves are spiking but he goes, follows as she pushes the door to the women’s bathroom open to peek inside before turning and pulling him in by the hand.

He’s done this sort of thing before, in clubs, bars- once at the uni library- but never on a shoot. Then again, he’s never met someone quite like Lucy Bell. 

She’s a vision, pretty blonde hair and dark green eyes blinking up at him as a blush blooms on her cheeks. Arthur finds the soft curve of her waist, hidden by the baggy jersey and pulls her in close, backing himself into the door.  He’s a little stunned and very drunk but Lucy’s lips are so soft.

When he licks against them, she still tastes a little bit like the last pint they’d downed. She presses onto him, slides one hand up to cup his jaw and scratch at his stubble in a way that leaves his skin tingly, the other one settling against his chest. 

Everything about it feels right. Lucy fits against him perfectly, and he can almost imagine doing this in his kitchen. Cooking something together and stealing kisses, snogging while it sits in the oven then again on the couch when they’re supposed to be watching a movie. He wants to kiss her into the mattress and fuck her propper, then maybe make her a cup of tea afterwards and hear about her day.

Lucy Bell isn’t the kind of girl you’re okay with only having once, and as she snogs him into the bathroom door, runs her tongue against the points of his canines, Arthur knows there’s no getting past her. Not now that he knows what he’d be missing. Pressed right up against him, a leg slotted between his as she presses as close as possible. Arthur kind of wants to turn her around, press her into the door, but he likes the way they’re stood a bit more, where he can hold her close by the hips, palm low at the skin of her thigh, just under her skirt hem. 

She breaks the kiss to huff a breath or two and Arthur ducks his head to mouth along her jaw. A trail of kisses down her throat that stings with the taste of rose that must have dribbled off her lips a few pubs ago.

“Arthur,” She gasps out when he finds a spot along the hollow of her collarbone and nips at it. “I don’t have concealer on me.”

He’s lived with enough beauty influencers to know what she’s saying. Don’t leave marks. He presses one more kiss there that’s probably a little soft for what they’re doing. “Sorry.”

Then her lips are back on his and she bites at his bottom lip, slips her tongue past too.

It’s only when he tugs her that last half a step closer and feels the pressure of her against him, that Arthur realises he’s got a problem. 

This time, he breaks the kiss, letting his head thunk back against the door. Lucy nips at his jaw and he’s forgotten how good it feels to be taken, wanted and desired. Feels too good.

“Luce,” Arthrur murmurs. “We gotta take a breather, or else this is gonna get away from me.”

Maybe it’s selfish, or dickish, to drag her close for one little grind against the tightened fabric of his shorts, but there’s a little hitch to her breath that makes something stupid like pride bloom in his chest.

“Yeah,” She says in nothing more than a whisper. “We are supposed to be doing something else right now.”

There’s no reason to be whispering, considering they’re alone in a room and the world outside is more than noisy enough to smother any noise coming from the bathroom. But keeping quiet, it lets Arthur believe that for a while, the world is just the two of them. Him and Lucy.

“Okay. Game plan. Thirty more seconds,” He interrupts himself to press another kiss against her lips. “Then you go back out. I'll sort myself out, then I'll join you.”

“‘Sort yourself out?’” She repeats with a teasing smile, leaning in to kiss at his jaw again. Then whispers against his skin, right by his ear “Arthur are you going to wank in the pub toilet?”

It wracks a shiver down his spine and Arthur has to tighten his grip on her hips to stop his hands wondering.

“No.” He replies, a little petulant, even though he’s not really sure how he’s going to dispel the semi that’s only getting worse.

She looks like she wants to ask another question, maybe tease him a little more but there's a shine to her lips- red and kiss bitten- and today, rather uncharacteristically, Arthur is an impatient man.

It’s a struggle to rein himself in, stick to the allotted thirty second time he’d set himself that they almost definitely go over, but there are people expecting them, and at least one more drink to down. 

So Arthur detaches himself from her, sticks a kiss on her cheek that’s definitely too tender to come from the bloke she snogged in the pub bathroom, and watches her slip out the door. Eyes drifting over the skin, just under her skirt that swishes with each step, and the little crescent indents from his fingernails, dug into her skin. It’s possessive, the feeling that curls in his chest, even if he has no right to feel that, no reason for his stupid monkey brain to lay claim over her. 

Arthur’s not sure how long he stands there before readjusting himself in his shorts and walking over to the sink, splashing some cold water on his face. He looks like he’s chundered. 

But it’s not like another red card would make much of a difference, they're so far behind in the points it’s ridiculous. Although, Arthur isn’t all that saddened by the loss of a domino's pizza; he’s gained a lot more from today.

Even if he only does get to have Lucy Bell once, in  a questionably clean pub bathroom, she's offered him something a bit more special than a snog.

Perspective. 

Arthur’s not backtracking anymore, he’s not going to read into it when Chris goes for the fake lean-in and says, for the cameras, that they’d shag. He doesn’t have to be over Chris, but the willingness to move past it, that's what's important. It’s all out in the open with Lucy, she knows, and he guesses, that he sort of knows too. She’d fancied Chris, at some point. When that was, isn’t all too clear but evidently, it was sometime recently, If she was scared of backtracking at least. 

Maybe they could be good for eachother, him and Lucy. 

Thankfully he wore the black corduroy shorts today, initially it had been in case he spilt a drink on them but he’s learning that they do wonders to hide the outline of his dick. Arthur clicks the lock open on the door, prepared to go and pretend he’s a lot more sober than he is and definitely not half hard from snogging a girl, only to be met with a very unimpressed look. “Arthur Television.”

For a mortifying moment, he thinks Becky is here to scold him, for snogging a drunk Lucy and having the gaul to consider wanking about it. Thankfully, he’s been in the bathroom a lot longer than he realised. 

“Get your arse out of there, or I’m going to piss myself. Use the mens next time, you dirty bastard." She all but shoves him out of the way, and hurries inside, leaving Arthur a blushing and apologetic mess in front of the two other women queuing up to use the bathroom.  

Everyone’s outside and it doesn’t seem like anyone’s really missed them; he’s not sure if that’s worse or better than being caught. 

He feels like he’s spotted a checkmate in three, having to bite his tongue and play it cool, not let anything slip. Lest someone find out how ecstatic he is. 

[ part two ] [ masterlist ] [ unseen, coming soon... ]

ink note: let it be known, Lucy and Arthur's ship name is 'Bell-evision' and George is the one who coins it a few chapters down the line.

[ Tag List: @kneelforloki @ooostarwarsfandom501st @rkaya @yamum189022222

if you would like to be added to the fic's tag list, let me know in an ask and you'll be tagged when each chapter goes up :) ]

[daisynik7]

hello it's me again not sure if it's alright to request one more (literally just ignore this if not) and its also not y2k but i'd like to request work song by hozier for nanami especially "no grave can hold my body down, i'd crawl home to her" angst with a happy ending during/post shibuya (no dying please) and reader is also a healer like shoko

thank you so much and congrats again 🫶🏼

Work Song

No grave can hold my body down, I’ll crawl home to her

Pairing: Nanami x f!reader

Word Count: ~1.6k

cw: mentions of d*ath, bl*od, burn injuries, canon-divergent, set in the canon-universe during the Shibuya Incident Arc, MAJOR spoilers up to Shibuya Arc, angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship, happy ending

Summary: You’re a healer working with Shoko inside the medical tent at Shibuya Station while Nanami, your boyfriend, is in the line of fire for the battle ahead. After an especially life-threatening attack, Nanami, on the brink, runs into an old friend, who helps guide him back home. 

Author’s Note: @75songs thank you so much for sending in another request for the y2k karaoke party, always appreciate your love and support! I ADORE this song and have honestly always thought it was perfect for Nanami. I am an anime only and am not caught up with season 2 yet, so I didn’t want to read too much into what exactly happens during this arc, so some of the details may be inaccurate, just a heads up. This one got me in my feelings. I will forever hold a grudge against Gege for what they did to Nanami. Anyways, likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated! Thanks so much for reading! Divider by @/saradika.

October 31st. Maybe in another timeline, another reality, you and Nanami would be celebrating Halloween tonight, passing colorful candies and decadent chocolates to kids going door-to-door across the neighborhood. You’d force him to dress up in a silly costume, one that matches yours, despite his reluctance at first. Deep down, you know he likes this; domestic bliss, especially with you. The idea that the two of you could live a peaceful life together, away from the dangerous world of curses and Jujutsu sorcery. You discuss it constantly, dream about it, strive for it. A few more years, he says, and he’ll retire. There’s still more work to be done, people to be saved. 

You’re inside the medical tent beside Shoko, helping her set up the cots, anticipating injured sorcerers to arrive soon with the battle underway. Masamichi Yaga, Jujutsu High’s principal, stands guard outside, determined to keep the medical team, especially Shoko, safe from any posing threats. There’s no way to know what’s happening until people start arriving, in need of medical attention. You’re a healer too, but not nearly as skilled as Shoko, your mentor. Still, she encourages you to join them tonight, needing all the help they can get. 

“Are you feeling okay?” she asks, setting up the last bed. Observant as ever, she notices your quiet demeanor.

You nod, giving her a weak, unconvincing smile. “Yeah.”

“Nanami is going to be fine,” she assures you, sensing the root of your anxiety. “When this is all done, the two of you should take a vacation together.”

Relaxing a bit, you reply, “We already have our trip to Malaysia planned in a few months.”

She smiles kindly. “There you go. Something to look forward to.”

Her words ease some of the tension, but there’s dread settling in the pit of your stomach, and it won’t go away until you see Nanami again in one piece. 

The waiting game finally ends as soon as the first wounded sorcerer shows up in the tent, initiating nonstop chaos. You assist Shoko diligently, making sure everything is prepared for her to perform her Reverse Cursed Technique for those who need it, and patching up those who don’t, with less severe injuries. You’re constantly on the lookout to see a familiar face, trying to get an update on what’s happening out there. None comes, until you see Kiyotaka Ijichi limping towards the entrance, blood spread across his shirt. You and Shoko rush towards him, carrying him over your shoulders, leading him to an empty cot, gently laying him down. 

Shoko, showing panic on her face for the first time all night, inspects him carefully. “Ijichi, can you hear me?” She’s always had a soft spot for him, often telling you how endearing she finds him, always a nervous wreck in front of her. Seeing him like this is surely jarring, even for her, who’s as tough as nails. 

He nods weakly, mumbling something incoherent, blood sputtering from his mouth. You remove the shattered glasses from his eyes, wiping his lips with gauze. Shoko starts to work on him, directing you to check on the other patients. Before you can follow orders, you feel his weak grip on your wrist. You turn to face him, focused on his lips as he quietly utters, “Nanami.”

Your ears perk up at the mention of your boyfriend’s name, leaning in closer to hear the rest of what he has to say, taking his time through labored breaths. “He…saved…me…” 

You do your best to keep your composure, nodding at him silently, blinking away the tears welling in your eyes. Unsure how to respond, you leave them, going to the other side of the tent to check on the remaining sorcerers. 

With everyone else in stable condition, you take a minute outside the tent to sob into your hands, praying that Nanami is still alive. Unaware of your surroundings, you’re startled when Yaga approaches, his large figure sitting beside you. “You alright?”

You wipe away your sniffles on your sleeve. “Just…nervous.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, sighing. “Yeah, I get it. But Nanami is one of our strongest sorcerers. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

Again, more words of comfort, but not enough to ease the nervous flutter in your belly. Yaga recognizes this and adds, “Nanami would fight through the fires of hell instead of letting himself die. Not because he wants to live for himself. But because he wants to live for you.”

You face him now, processing his statement. He chuckles, lifting his sunglasses to meet your gaze. “That man has never been so smitten in his life. He’d crawl out his grave just to be with you, I guarantee it.”

~~~

The last thing Nanami remembers is desperately wishing he was in Malaysia with you instead of at Shibuya Station right now. He wakes up, sitting in one of the seats on the platform. It’s eerily quiet with no one in sight. The distinct sounds of trains on the rails or the hustle and bustle of people moving along is strangely absent, and it occurs to Nanami that this may be a dream. 

He's sure of it when he feels a nudge to his side, turning to face Yu Haibara sitting next to him. There’s a warm smile on his boyish face, dressed in his Jujutsu High uniform, exactly as he was many years ago when Nanami last saw him, alive and well. The same bright, earnest eyes he remembers vividly of his best friend. He swallows hard, an uneasy feeling surrounding him. Is he seeing a ghost? Or is this the afterlife?

Haibara laughs, and Nanami is snapped out of his reverie and taken immediately back to 2006, when he first met his friend during orientation. He can’t help but grin, happy to see him still so lively. “Well, aren’t you going to greet your old friend, Nanami?”

Nanami does, hugging him, astonished to feel him in his arms almost like a real person. Almost. “What are you doing here?”

“Just came to visit you, that’s all.”

Nanami lets him go, studying him carefully, looking for any signs of decay. When he spots none, he asks him, “Am I dead?”

Haibara shakes his head. “Not quite. But you’re pretty damn close.”

“I am?”

“Yeah. So you better hurry and get home quick.” Haibara points towards the railings, now illuminated at one end by a blinding flash of light. “Yuji’s waiting for you.”

“Itadori? How do you know – “

Haibara then says your name with a big smile. “Yeah, I know her too. They’re all waiting for you, Nanami. You don’t want to keep them waiting any longer, do you?”

It takes a while for Nanami to get up, and when he does, he’s off balance, legs wobbly, body unsteady. Haibara helps him, offering his shoulder, the two of them walking slowly towards the light. “I really like her, you know. Your girlfriend.”

“You do?” Nanami asks, hobbling beside him. 

“Yeah. She’s really nice, really pretty, and she eats a lot, especially with you,” he chuckles. “You know how much I like that.”

“Yeah I do.”

“And I’m a good judge of character, so I think she’s perfect for you. If that means anything,” he says, proudly.

“It does. It means a lot.” They’re near the edge of the platform now and Nanami will have to hop down to reach the end of the tunnel. 

“Are you going to marry her soon?” Haibara asks, pausing just before the edge. 

Nanami nods, grinning. “I’m planning to propose during our vacation in Malaysia.” 

“Good. Good.”

He’s tempted to stay longer, wanting a few more moments with his friend, but he knows that time is ticking. He hugs him again, squeezing him tight. “Take care, Haibara.”

“You too, Nanami. I’ll be looking out for you.”

His chest constricts, jumping off the platform, landing roughly on the railings, blinking away the tears in his eyes. It’s sweltering now, the light emitting an intense heat from within. He gives Haibara one last glance, cherishing the happy expression on his face as he waves goodbye to him before walking into the light.

Seconds later, Nanami wakes up with a gasp of breath, vision blurred, a droning pounding beating against his ear drums. It soon fades and only Yuji’s panicked voice yelling from behind him is heard. He’s being dragged by the armpits, away from the battle. Smoke radiates from his entire form, and he can barely move. In fact, he can barely feel anything at all. 

They reach the medical tent, Itadori yelling for help the whole way. Yaga is the first to reach them, his usual calm demeanor wavering at the sight of Nanami, body half-burned from the explosion. They carrying him delicately inside, resting him on the only empty cot left. He wants to close his eyes; he’s so exhausted, and sleep is the only thing to bring him peace right now. That, or you. 

As if his prayers were heard, you appear at his side, truly a vision, even while you sob for him, holding his mangled hand in yours, begging for him to stay with you. He can die happy now, seeing your face, knowing that you’re here, alive, heart beating, surviving. Can he do the same? Can he survive this? All he knows is that he’s trying with every fiber he has left in his being. He won’t leave you, not like this. Not without experiencing life on the outside with you. 

It’s in this moment that he vows to endure. Even if he has to crawl out of his grave to do it, he’s determined to be with you again. 

~~~ 

November 1st. Maybe in another timeline, another reality, Nanami is gone. Not in this one, though. Instead, you sit beside him, healed and in one piece thanks to Shoko, fingers laced with his, careful not to squeeze too tightly. Yuji and Ino are at his other side, talking animatedly about how amazing Nanami was the entire fight, and all he can do is lay there, smiling. Happy to be alive. Happy to be with you. 

[m0llygunn]

CREATURE FROM THE GRAVE

After a much needed hair cut and a very pleasurable scalp massage, you find out something new about your undead friend! wc: 600

The first night at your house— the undead has a name!

─── † ཐི❤︎ཋྀ † ───

“You’re lucky fashion always loops back around. Long hair on guys is in its… third?” you pause, doing quick decade math. “Yeah, third wave since your time, at least… actually, maybe it’s at its fourth loop around?”

“Hm,” Eddie hmphs, slouching in his seat. The sectioned part of his hair slides out from between your fingers right as soon as you go to snip it, and you’re quick to scold him. 

“It’s just a trim! Your ends are dead! More dead than the rest of you! It’s a bad look, Eddie, I won’t be seen with someone who has split ends up to their ears, I just won’t!”

“Nuuh,” he moans— his new favourite word, his best version of ‘no’.

“Yes. And if you don’t sit up, I’m going to mess up, and then we’ll have to shave it all off— and who knows if it’ll even grow back?”

“Nuh!”

“Well, Eddie. Sit up.”

He complies with gurgles and mumbles and you part his hair again, sectioning out what hasn’t been trimmed, finishing the job. 

By the end, he looks magnificent, not a split end in sight. You run your fingers through his hair, shaking it out, starting from the scalp.

“Mmm,” Eddie moans quietly.

“You like that?” you tease. He meets your gaze through the mirror reflection and rolls his eyes, but his demeanor shifts— he definitely likes it.

You do it again, this time focusing more on the root of his hair, letting your fingers rub at his scalp. You get a quiet gasp from him as his eyes widen. 

“Relax, Eddie. It’s just a massage,” you laugh as you run your fingers through his hair. 

As your fingers work against his scalp, he lets out a content sigh. Pulling a hand from his hair, you pat his shoulder, encouraging him to sit back further and slouch like he so badly wanted to before. With hesitancy, catching your gaze in the mirror with a subtle scowl, he eventually scoots his hips forward, letting his head rest back against your stomach. You hum happily and return to massaging his scalp. 

After a few minutes of your hands in his hair, with the occasional gentle pulls from the root, you can’t help but notice something in your periphery. 

You can see Eddie’s face in the mirror. His eyes are closed and he looks truly relaxed. If you didn’t know any better, and if he didn’t have the pale complexion of someone who’s been in the ground for the last hundred years, you’d think that, well, he wasn’t in the ground for the last hundred years. He's got a youthfulness to him, both in looks and attitude. 

Eventually, your gaze shifts downwards, traveling south, to see… something else. Something you didn’t know was even biologically possible for him— something tenting the crotch of his pants. You can’t help but smile to yourself— dead or alive a guy is a guy, you suppose. 

“Well, it’s good to know that still works,” you laugh. “Good for you.” 

Eddie’s eyes blink open, immediately looking for your gaze in the mirror. You pat him on the cheek before emptying your hair supplies out of your borrowed-from-the-kitchen apron pockets, sitting the big mismatched hair clips and silver shears down on your vanity. 

“I have to go get the vacuum for the floor. You can get up now,” you instruct him as you catch his gaze in the mirror once again. “Huh,” you pause, seeing the pink flush to his usually grey-ish cheeks. “I didn’t know you could blush either. Interesting.” 

[andrewmsaidso]

ok so i kinda sorta feel bad for the ravens yk. and not just riko kevin and jean but all of them. every raven ever who had to go through that bc imagine you grow up watching a sport and seeing your favourite player on tv and then decide you want to be like them when you grow up; score all the goals, win all the trophies, play a game you love so much and get paid for it, etc. so you join the exy team at school. you’re ecstatic when your parents buy you your first set of gear; your first stick, your first pair of shin pads, your first helmet, your first ball. due to being so passionate about it, soon you’re the best player on the team. your coach sees it. your parents see it. the other teams’ coaches see it. so your parents put you in a private club so you can get even better. and the more exy you watch, the more you fall in love with the sport, the more you want to be like the players on tv.

so you train super hard bc the end goal is to be the next *insert legend player*. and you get so good that by the time you’re in your senior year of high school, edgar allen wants to sign you. tetsuji moriyama, the man who created this sport you love so much, the father of exy, the ultimate legend, wants you on his team that ranks higher than every other collegiate exy team in the country, his team that have never lost to anyone ever.

so you don’t think twice signing. and then there’s the summer after high school. arguably the best summer ever. you’re probably not gonna see many of your friends ever again so you guys make the most of it bc you’re just an ordinary teenager doing ordinary teenage stuff, high off the expectation of how spectacular college is gonna be.

and then it’s june which means summer practices and you move into the nest for the first time, not knowing you won’t leave for the next 5 years, which actually end up being 7 and a half bc oh yeah btw, we do 16-hour days here.

you’re no longer the best on the team. you’re now playing amongst national champions. you struggle with the drills. you’re coaches beat you for struggling with the drills. you’re partner hates you because he’s also getting beat for your shortcomings. you hate him back because you get beat for his shortcomings. but you can’t really hate each other because you’re not allowed to talk to anyone who isn’t on the team. the coaches tell you the way you’ve been playing exy for the last over-a-decade is wrong. you need to be play dirtier, more violent.

it’s too dark. you have no say in what you eat, when you eat, when you sleep, when you’re allowed to leave, where you’re allowed to go, what you’re to study for the next 5 years. you’re struggling. you can’t call your parents. no outsiders. you can’t tell your friends. no outsiders. you don’t have friends. only partners and teammates.

and the hazing. it’s horrible. inhumane. the things they do to you. the things they force you to do. it happens so often, you become desensitised. you get used to it. you’ve blurred the line between right and wrong beyond repair. you become obsessed with everything raven and begin to hate the outside world. you become someone else. someone your parents won’t recognise when you see them for the first time in in 5—no, 7—years.

you don’t care. they don’t matter anymore. they’re not the coaches. they don’t decide your punishment or whether you can play in the next game or not. you’ve signed with a good team and are expected to go court. and you did it all by yourself. you endured for 7 years. by yourself. you didn’t need them then and you don’t need them now. so you push them away.

people think there’s something wrong with you. they call you crazy. you’re too angry, too violent, too callous. but that’s what ravens pride themselves on. anger, violence, and callousness. you’re ranking is high and you score a lot of goals so who cares. none of it matters.

exy doesn’t excite you anymore. you can’t even bring yourself to celebrate when you score goals. you don’t care about being anyone’s favourite player anymore. you’ve lost your passion.

your not even 30 and you’re sore all the time. you can’t play for more than a 45-minute half. your muscles are getting weaker. you don’t run as fast anymore. you’re sold to a weaker team. you injure yourself over and over from simply playing. you continue to push yourself until one day, you tear something beyond repair. you’ll never play again.

you have no family. no friends. you pushed them away remember? you’re still only in your twenties but it feels like life has no meaning anymore.

you are officially truly and utterly alone. your life has ended before it even began.

all because you, like every other kid, wanted to be like your role models you watched playing on tv.

and not to mention the kids who were signed to the team before riko’s death. like imagine watching the internet go crazy over a team you’re gonna play for, finding out that said team just might be a cult. just maybe.

like isn’t that just a tad bit … ☹️

[toothpastecanyon]

Return, to the Scene of the Crime

Playing human again, Alcor makes it longer than he usually does. He's in college now, juggling classes, family, a curious vampire, and a strange, increasingly sinister web of mysteries weaving themselves around him. Without his omniscience to guide the way, he'll have to work hard to get to the bottom of this before it spirals out of control.

See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.

______________________________________________________________

Lucy Ann was asleep when her phone rang. She grumbled and turned over, fishing in her pocket to mute it. Then it rang again, and with a heavy sigh, she cracked open an eyelid to see who it was.

“Alcor,” she muttered. “Ugh… fine, alright.”

Sitting up, she pushed the lid of the coffin open, and shielded her phone from the screams in the funeral home as she put it to her ear.

“Yeah, what?”

“Lucy Ann?”

“Yeah, it’s me, dude.” She rubbed her eyes. “What is it? Kinda in the middle of something here.”

“Oh, do you want me to – I can call back-”

“What is it?”

She heard him take a deep breath, and rolled her eyes. She stood up and stretched as he seemed to collect his thoughts.

“I…” he started. “I’m going away for a while. I wanted to call you before I… I won’t be summonable, so I wanted to let you know how to, how to reach me if you need me.”

“Ah, this is one of these Noie deals, huh? Glad you’re finally giving me a heads up.”

“Yeah, I don’t – I-I know how it went last time, I don’t want that to happen again.”

Lucy Ann glanced down at the glove on her hand. He kept going.

“So I’m giving you a special circle you can use to contact me – uh, it’ll break my enchantments, so if it could be an emergencies only kind of thing…?”

“Got it.”

“Okay… yeah, thanks. And if you need to see me in person, I’ll be down in the California Isles. The family’s really nice – they, hah, they actually own a funeral home-”

“No way! In Maine?”

“In- no, California. I just told you-”

“Oh, yeah! Right.” Lucy Ann gave a little chuckle as she looked at an urn. “Sorry, I got carried away there. That would’ve been a hell of a coincidence.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it, uh,” she cleared her throat. “Okay. That sounds good. Thanks for letting me know, Al.”

“Of course. I’ll send the circle to you and then… get set up.” He seemed like he wanted to say more; after a moment, he spoke again. “So, uh, see you in a couple decades?”

“Yeah, see you then,” she said, and then grinned. “Or who knows, maybe I’ll pay a visit.”

“Pay a visit? What?”

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll see if you loosen up a bit without that demon angst you’ve always got going on.” She heard him laugh, and gave a little chuckle herself… but soon it faded, and she cleared her throat again. “Uh, anyway, good luck with that, I guess. See you around.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you.”

When Lucy Ann hung up the call, the little joke she’d made about dropping in on him had already slipped her mind. For almost twenty years she went on wandering as she always did, thinking of Alcor only rarely, wondering how he was doing. She wasn’t ever thinking of actually following through on that joke… but, you know, sometimes things don’t happen for anything as grand as fate or careful planning.

Sometimes they just fall into place.

She was bouncing around the Isles when she remembered Alcor. googled the name of that funeral home he’d given her, as she sometimes did – just to see if they were still in business, but she came across a little blog post the owners posted: ‘HE GOT INTO HONORS COLLEGE!!!’ It was a picture of Dipper with a dorky smile and a graduation cap, and she couldn’t help but snicker to herself at the glowing paragraphs his parents had posted to their business page. Jeez, he was still going, wasn’t he? She didn’t want to be rude on the phone, but she was expecting this thing to flame out early as it usually did.

So… he was just living the regular human life, huh?

Huh.

…

Lucy Ann looked around the motel room she was in, decided she didn’t have anything interesting going on, and started packing.

______________________________________________________________

“Murdered! She was murdered!”

“Dude.”

“I can’t believe it, who would do this! I just can’t-”

“Dude, Darren!” Dipper put his hands on the guy’s shoulders. “Keep your voice down. I thought you came to me because you didn’t want the RA to hear!”

Lucy Ann chuckled a bit as Darren shut his mouth. She watched Dipper walk back to the bird cage under the dorm room bed. There was a little pile of ash under the perch; opening the cage, he pinched some between his fingers.

“Look,” Dipper said. “Nobody killed your phoenix, okay? This isn’t phoenix ash.”

“Wha- what?”

“Phoenix ash is highly magical.” He brought out a little necklace tucked under his shirt; there was a dull blue glass pendant on the end of it, and nothing happened when he brought the ash to it. “See? My necklace lights up when it’s repelling magic, and it’s getting nothing here. It’s just regular ash.”

Darren sniffed and wiped his nose. “So… so Flamey’s alive?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry, man, she’s alive.” He paused, meaningfully. “But… someone wanted you to think she was dead.”

Darren gasped. Lucy Ann watched with a grin as Dipper got to his feet, dusting off his hands.

“My guess is it’s some kind of prank, but it could be that someone stole your phoenix for themselves. Who else knows about Flamey?”

“I-I don’t… no one, I think!” He wrung his shirt. “I mean my dorm mate does, but he wouldn’t steal her – Alex hates living with her!”

“Hates living with her, eh?” Lucy Ann raised her eyebrows at Dipper. “Maybe it’s not been stolen to keep.”

“That’s exactly what I thought,” Dipper nodded to himself. Darren leaned in further.

“You think… you think Alex murdered Flamey?”

“No, I told you, no one murdered-” There was a knock at the door just then, and Dipper looked up. “Hello?”

“Uh, hello?” Said the voice. “This is my room, who’s in here?”

“That’s Alex,” Darren murmured, and then he called out: “Just some friends of mine!”

The door opened slowly, and Alex popped his head in, frowning. “Uh, okay. Hey, Darren, how long are they gonna be here? I’ve gotta study.”

“Oh, we’re just wrapping up,” Dipper said, letting what he probably thought was a very sly smile snake across his face. “But, uh… Alex, was it? I just got one question for you.”

“Uh, sure?”

“You got a lighter?”

Alex frowned. “A lighter? No.”

“Oh, okay.” Dipper glanced across the room. “That’s weird, then. You got a scented candle on your desk.”

Darren groaned. “I hate that candle, man, it smells like old people. And isn’t it, like, a fire hazard?”

“Fire hazard?” Alex crossed his arms. “Seriously, man? You’re going on about a fire hazard?”

“You don’t like that he keeps a phoenix under his bed, do you?”

Alex blinked, and then scowled at Dipper. “Yeah, duh, would you?”

“So you stole it.”

“So- wait, what? I didn’t – hey, who is this guy, Darren?”

“You stole Flamey?” Darren stared slackjawed at him. “You did, didn’t you!”

“And then you burned some paper and planted it in her cage so he’d think she was dead.” Dipper crossed his arms. “Pets aren’t allowed in the dorms, so you thought Darren wouldn’t report it to anybody. It was the perfect crime!”

“I… I…” Alex blinked a few times, then huffed and threw up his hands. “Okay, fine! I gave her to my aunt!”

“Alex!”

“And I’d do it again! You know what the real crime is? Keeping a flaming fucking bird in a tiny cage under your bed! I was doing you and her a favour!”

“I can’t believe you! You get her back, okay! You get her back or, or… or I’ll tell the RA about the candles!”

“Oh-hoh, okay, you tell them about the candles and I’ll tell them about the giant bird you had under your bed! We’ll see what they’re more interested in!”

“Flamey!”

Dipper and Lucy Ann strolled out of the dorm room together. Lucy Ann took one look at his smug face and poked him in the ribs.

“Wha- hey! What was that for?”

“If your head gets any bigger it’s not gonna fit in the doorway.” She smirked at him. “I guess you did okay, though. Quick thinking on the ash.”

“Yeah, heh…” He rubbed his side. “That was not what I expected when Darren came over. Still, that was pretty good, wasn’t it? It was like being a detective!”

“You’re a real Sherlock Holmes.”

With a laugh, Dipper unlocked his dorm, held it open for her, and followed her in. It was a tiny space, but at least it was a one-bedroom; a bunk bed slotted against one wall, and a desk was crammed against the other, leaving only a narrow walkway from the door to a tiny square of window. Dipper’s desk was covered in books and notes; his magi-orb was open but asleep, and he made his way over to wake it up.

On the way, he got a little tangled with the sleeping bag on the floor – more accurately, this used to be a one-bedroom. Lucy Ann snorted.

“Hey, you’re stepping on my pillows!”

“Oops, sorry.” He watched her lounge out on the floor with a raised eyebrow. “You know, you sure you still want to stay here?”

“Yup.” She picked up a book beside her bed, and glanced over at him. “What, you tired of me?”

“No, no! I just – I mean, it’s been so cool to meet the real Lucy Ann, but I still don’t get why you’ve decided to hang around me.” He watched her face twist into a knowing grin, and rolled his eyes. “You’re never gonna tell me why, are you.”

She just winked at that, and buried her head in her book. Shaking his head, he turned back to his magi-orb and tapped it a few times; it flared to life, and Dipper’s necklace gave off a soft blue glow as he started scrolling. A news article popped up, and he clicked on it.

“Huh.” He said to himself. “Hey, you remember that jewellery store robbery last week?”

“No.”

“It was that one super close to campus – we got alerts about it.”

She just shrugged, so he started reading off the article.

“Suspect in jewellery store stick up still at large after mysterious disappearance, magical influence suspected.” His eyes skipped further down. “Oh, nice, looks like the guy he shot got out of the hospital today.”

“Good for him.”

“Mysterious disappearance… they say he went into a back room away from the cameras and just disappeared. No windows in the room either, isn’t that weird?”

Finally, Lucy Ann glanced up from her book and gave him an odd look. “Yeah, I guess it’s weird. Why, you wanna rob a jewellery store or something? It’s not as fun as it sounds.”

“No, I’m just… how did he disappear like that?” He sat back in his chair, stroking his chin. “I mean, locked room, no windows-”

Lucy Ann let out the biggest groan. “Oh, no. You call a guy Sherlock once and he becomes insufferable – if you start reading every random crime report to me I really will leave, okay?”

“Okay, okay!” He put his hands up. “Sheesh. I just thought it was a cool mystery. You don’t have to bite my head off.”

“I’m not biting your head off, I’m just saying that’s cop shit.” She flashed a fanged grin at him. “Come on, your life’s too short to care who makes off with some pretty rocks or whatever. The world’s full of way more interesting mysteries than that.”

“Hm.” He sat there for a second, and then reached out and closed the news article. “I guess you’re right.”

She watched him sit back, and sat up. “Hey, you wanna do something tonight?”

“Huh?”

“You know, go out somewhere. I saw this thing the other day for an escape room – you ever done one of those?”

“I haven’t. That sounds cool, but…”

“You gotta study?”

“Ahh,” he checked his phone. “Actually, Mom texted, asked if I could drop some groceries off at home tonight. I’ll probably stay for dinner.”

“Oh, okay.” Lucy Ann sat back and picked up her book again. “Sounds good.”

______________________________________________________________

Quicksilver Funeral Home & Crematory was on the southernmost tip of the New Fresno Peninsula, about a fifty minute’s drive from Dipper’s university. It was, politely, in the middle of nowhere; Dipper always smiled when he remembered the long, lazy days he spent in the forests behind his house… just as much as he’d remember the long drive to school, the friends he could never casually invite over. As remote as it was, though, his dad always liked to remind him that at least they were on the mainland.

“Oh, we’re hardly in the middle of nowhere, son. If you wanna see the middle of nowhere, take a skylift out to one of those floating islands down south. Poor saps are so remote their dead get brought to us in helicopters!”

It was, if not a convincing argument, a very illustrative one. Dipper thought of his dad’s voice as he pulled up the driveway, and a little grimace tugged his lips down. He turned off his car, glanced at the groceries on the seat next to him, and sighed.

Then he sat up, opened the door, and got out. Picking up the groceries, he made his way to the side entrance and rang the doorbell. There was a muffled, “I got it,” and footsteps up to the door.

It unlatched, swung open, and revealed his sister in the doorway. Mallory nodded at him.

“Hey,” she said, and stepped aside to let him in. He smiled at her.

“Hey, Mal. Got the groceries!”

“I see that. Need a hand?”

“No, I got it, thanks.” He headed down the hallway into the kitchen. “Hey, Mom! That smells great!”

“Dipper!” His Mom looked up from a pot of bubbling soup; her face creased into a smile, and she gave him a big hug. “It’s so great to see you, honey!”

“It’s great to see you too – oh, watch out, eggs!” He put the bags on the counter before hugging back. “How’ve you been? Where’s Dad?”

“He’s in the living room with Mallory – I can put all this away if you wanna see him!”

“You sure?”

“Of course! He’ll be delighted to see you!”

The living room was just around the corner; Dipper hesitated for a second before walking in.

“Hey, Dad.”

His Dad was sitting back in his favourite green armchair, and for a second Dipper could just pretend he’d fallen asleep in it as he loved to do, and him and Mallory were two giggling kids about to balance as many toys as they could on his body until he finally woke up, made a show of stretching and going, “Whoa, what’s all this!” as they both shrieked with laughter. He could see it so clearly… but then there was the bed behind him, hastily dragged down the stairs into the living room, and the hospital wheelchair at the foot of it. His Dad’s eyes were closed, but they were struggling to open; his head fell to the side, and he gave a lopsided smile, a weak wave. Dipper waved back, and then he moved in closer to give him a hug.

“It’s good to see you.” He said, squeezing carefully, and then standing up. Mallory put a hand on his shoulder; he glanced at her. “How’s he… I-I mean, how’re you doing, Dad?”

There was a pause, and then his hand flopped very deliberately to the side, as if to say, “How do you think?” His eyebrow quirked up too, and Dipper gave a little laugh.

“Yeah, hah, makes, makes sense.”

“We’ve been doing some exercises,” Mallory said; she turned on the TV, picked up a foam ball, and gently opened their Dad’s hand to place it in. “Do you know there’s one where you’re supposed to crumple up a sheet of paper? That’s been my favourite.”

“Hah, really?” He looked towards the bin, which was overflowing with tightly-crumpled balls of notepaper. “Hey, he’s doing really well on that one!”

Mallory didn’t respond; she shrugged obliquely, and then crushed a sheet of paper between her hands. His smile turned awkward.

“Oh, uh…” He rubbed his neck. “So! What are we watching?”

Dinner was ready soon. Dipper helped his Dad into the wheelchair, and Mallory guided him into the dining room. Their Mom had set out plates; they all took a seat, Mallory next to her Dad. Dipper watched him pick up a spoon with a shaking hand and dip it into the soup.

“So how’re classes going, honey?”

“Huh?” Dipper blinked, and looked to his Mom. “Oh! Um, they’re going good… yeah, good.”

“That’s good.” She smiled. “Midterms are coming up, aren’t they?”

“Yeah!”

“Ooh, how’re you feeling about that?”

“Pretty, pretty prepared, I think!” He grinned. “And then it’ll be winter break soon! I can come back home for Christmas.”

“That’ll be great, honey! We’ve missed having you around. And you know, we could use a little help around the-”

“I’m doing the best I can.”

Mallory’s voice cut her right off. She saw them both stare at her, and narrowed her eyes.

“What? I just said I’m doing the best I can.” She glared at their Mom. “You’re talking like I’m not doing anything around here, I just wanted to say I am doing stuff, okay?”

“I didn’t say that, honey, we really appreciate-”

“I know, I’m just saying-”

“-could help take some things off your plate-”

“I was just saying-!” Mallory stopped and put up her hands. “You know what, forget I said anything.”

“Honey-”

“I said forget it, Mom.”

“But-”

“Forget it, okay? I don’t want to do this again.”

The room froze into a tense silence. Dipper glanced nervously between the two of them, and took a long drink of water. There was a grunting sound from across the table; their Dad was pointing at something.

“Dad?” Dipper blinked. “What do you-”

“He wants the salt.” Mallory rubbed her forehead. “Dad, I told you, you’re not supposed to have too much-”

“Oh, just give him the salt, dear.”

Mallory froze. She looked up at their Mom, grabbed the salt, and slammed it down on the table next to their Dad before getting up and walking away. A door shut hard down the hallway; their Mom gave Dipper a tight smile.

“Sorry, honey.” She said. “She’s not… she’s finding this all a bit hard to adjust to. But she’s really happy to see you!”

“Yeah…” Dipper looked down at the soup. He half stood up; then looked at her. “Can I…?”

“Oh, of course! She’s probably in the crematorium.”

Dipper nodded, and followed after her. There was a door by the stairs that opened into the main foyer of the funeral home; he passed by the front desk, by an empty viewing room filled with chairs, up to a door tucked away in the back with a very clear ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’ sign. Through there was the crematorium: its concrete floors, stainless steel gurneys, and safety tape stood in stark, clinical contrast to the rest of the building, but Dipper had long since gotten used to this place. The shining metal cremation machine dominated the middle of the space, and though it wasn’t on, there was a whirring sound behind it. Dipper walked past a row of body freezers set into the wall to find Mallory.

“Uh, hey,” he said. She was standing arms crossed in front of a little glass kiln, and didn’t look up at his voice. He hung back, a nervous smile on his face. “Mal? Are you okay?”

Mallory raised her eyebrows. “Oh, yeah,” she said. “Doing great.”

“Mal-”

“You want a plate?” She sifted through a little pile of things next to the kiln. “I was saving this for you – here.”

She held out a small, multicoloured glass plate. Dipper blinked as he took it from her; he held it up to the light, and marvelled at the colours splashing on the side of his hand. “Wow, this is really pretty! Is this enchanted too?”

The slight smile on Mallory’s face vanished. “No, it’s just a plate. Why would I enchant a plate?”

“Oh, I just-”

“Your necklace was a lot of work, you know. I don’t do that for every single thing I make! Sometimes I just want to make a fucking plate, okay?”

“Okay, sorry!” He watched her turn away. “Mal, I’m sorry! I didn’t- it’s really good, thank you!”

“Oh, I don’t know, you sure you don’t want me to melt it down and put an enchantment on it first?”

“No, no…” He sighed. “I’m sorry, Mal, that was really dumb of me. I really like the plate, okay? Thank you for giving it to me.”

“Hm.” She stayed like that for a second, then looked back and grinned at him. “You’re welcome, dummy. I’m glad you like it.”

He grinned back. “I do, it’s really beautiful! How’d you get all the colours like that? I’ve never seen something like this from you.”

“Huh, that? Oh, I started buying this coloured glass scrap.” She opened a drawer; in it was a box full of big and small shards of coloured glass. “You can get it in bulk for super cheap – nobody gave me a scholarship for this, so I make do.”

Another sharp remark – Dipper cringed again. “Mal?” He asked, and she started picking through the shards. “Are you… is everything okay?”

“No, obviously, everything’s not okay.” She took a look at his expression and rolled her eyes. “Look, it’s not- I’ll survive. It’s fine.”

“Mal…”

“It’s hard on us all right now, okay?” She sighed. “I shouldn’t have done that with Mom over dinner. She’s just been – just been getting on my nerves lately, you know?” She picked up a blue shard, and looked through it. “Just on and on about how I’m so good with the families, I should totally take over!”

Dipper rolled his eyes. “Oh, god, yeah.”

“She even found a mortuary sciences course at my college, just tried to ‘casually’ bring it up to me the other day.” A chuckle. “You know how she acts when she thinks she’s being subtle.”

“Heh, yeah… how’s your classes going?”

“I withdrew this semester.”

“Oh… Oh, jeez, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise.” He watched her pause, staring into the middle distance. He stepped a little closer. “You know, Mom and Dad always said they only wanted us to take over if we wanted to. I don’t think she’d want you to feel obligated.”

“Yeah, but I am obligated, aren’t I?” She glared at him. “What are they gonna do now if I leave? Mom can't run this whole place on her own.”

“They always said they’d hire-”

“Hire someone else, yeah, like they can afford that right now.” Rolling her eyes, she pushed off the counter and started pacing. “And they can’t sell the place either – where’s Mom gonna find another job? No, unless Dad gets better fast, I’m stuck here.”

“You’re not-” Dipper struggled for words. “You don’t have to… it’s not your responsibility. They wouldn’t want you to feel like this.”

“Oh, okay then.” She stopped, and looked straight at him. “So how about I leave, and you come back home to take care of Dad. How’s that sound?”

Dipper blinked. “I…” he started, and frowned as she flashed a grin. “Hey, come on, Mal, that’s not… You’re not being fair.”

She scoffed at that, and crossed her arms.

“Mal-”

“I’m not actually asking you to do that – obviously. But it’s you or me, okay? And if it’s gonna be me, can you stop acting like I could just walk away from them?”

Dipper hesitated, and then he sighed. “You’re… you’re right. I’m sorry. That sounds really hard.”

“Thank you,” she rubbed her eyes. “Look, how about you just go back to dinner?”

“What? What about you?”

“I’ll be out in a bit, I just…” She looked back at the shards she’d taken out, picked one up, and tossed it back into the drawer. “I just need to cool off.”

“Wh… you sure? I can stay here if you-”

“It’s fine.” Glancing back at him, she managed a smile. “It’s fine, okay? I’ll be out soon.”

Dipper lingered for a second longer, and then, with a sigh, he turned and made for the door. One last glance over the shoulder showed how he left her: a small figure hunched over a desk, disappearing behind the machinery.

He opened the door, and walked away.

______________________________________________________________

“You’re back late,” Lucy Ann said as he made his way into his dorm the next morning. “I thought you were only staying for dinner?”

“Yeah… I was just, I was trying to be helpful.” He closed the door, and leaned against it for a second. “It’s just… it’s like… do you think I’m…?”

Lucy Ann watched him for a moment, her eyebrow slowly arching. “Do I think you’re what?”

“It’s… nevermind.” With a sigh, he went to his desk and tapped his magi-orb. “I’m only here to pick up some stuff for class. Are you coming?”

“Depends, what you got on?”

“Uh… public speaking’s first – shoot, my presentation’s today!”

With a cackle she hopped to her feet. “Oh, I’m definitely coming for that one!”

Dipper shook his head at her, but before he could reply, there came a knock at the door. Lucy Ann groaned.

“Shit, is that the RA?”

“I’ll see… uh, hello? Who is it?”

“Dude, it’s Darren!”

“Oh, thank the stars.” She dropped her sleeping bag. “I didn’t want to have to hide again.”

Dipper frowned as he opened the door. “Darren? What’s up?”

“Hey, dude!” Darren looked a little out of breath, but he perked up at the sight of him. “Oh, I forgot to tell you the other day – thanks for finding Flamey for me! Alex drove me over and-”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome,” Dipper started to close the door. “Look, I gotta get to class-”

“Oh, wait! That wasn’t what I came over for!”

“Huh?”

“I was telling my buddy Marsh about how you found her the other day – and you know, Alex’s aunt, she actually has a whole aviary, it’s amazing! She has so much room to fly around-”

“Darren…”

“Right, right! So I was telling Marsh about how crazy it was when you put all the clues together, and he was saying he could use your help!”

Lucy Ann snorted. “Congrats, on the new job, Dipper. Campus animal control.”

“I don’t-” Dipper looked from her to Darren. “I don’t know, man. What’s the problem?”

“It was something about a weird ghost in his apartment… I-I don’t remember exactly, but I said I’d give you his number and he could tell you about it!”

“A ghost?” Dipper blinked. He opened the door a little wider. “Huh… Uh, yeah, what’s his number? I gotta go… like right now, but I can call him after class! What was his name, Marsh?”

Behind them, Lucy Ann shook her head. She wanted to know what he was like without demon powers?

It turns out he wasn’t so different – he could still be such a dork.

[isawken]

clown eggs!

everyone loves ‘em. most notably, i, some random dumbass, have one. but where do they come from? if you say the clowns lay the eggs i'll fucking cut you this is a history lesson. be serious about clowns for once in your life

clowns international is the oldest operating clown organization. it was founded by a dude named Stan Bult allll the way back in the 1940s. this man was not a clown. he was a chemist. i wish i knew more about him but it's been impossible to get anything more than blurbs, all relating to eggs. i don’t even know what sort of chemistry he did! but he grew up with and liked clowns a lot. so he got an organization together- originally called the International Circus Clowns Club. one thing about our boy Stan is he had an almost cartoonishly-niche hobby: he liked painting hollowed out chicken eggs with the faces of some of the great clowns that preceded his clownpatriots. see some of the below Bult originals:

it didn’t take long for his practice to become enmeshed with the organization. like seriously what self-respecting clown wouldn’t appreciate the absurdity of such a practice. Stan started painting the faces of the org’s contemporary members, both for their own enjoyment and to keep a record of their membership far more interesting than a bunch of dusty ol files. over the next few decades and up until his death in 1966, my man Stan painted over 450 eggs! boy, my cloaca’s sore just thinking about it!

the egg-painting practice died with him. but it wouldn’t stay dead. 20 years after his death the organization, now called Clowns International, was under new management, and they knew the importance of the history they had. they hired a new egg-specific artist and offered (now ceramic) painted eggs to all of their members, for a small fee along with their standard membership fee. for a slightly more expensive fee you can get two eggs- one for the registry, and one to keep in your home for all to see and be very confused by, depending on how much your visitors know about your personal life.

now, i’ve seen some very dramatic statements made about the registry. and i would like to dispel them. no, the organization does not litigate their eggs. there is no Clown Lawyer who keeps tabs on every existing egg and every incoming egg and mediates disputes about suspiciously similar-looking face paint between clowns. you won’t get Clown Sued if your submitted face looks kinda like another’s. the record has only ever been utilized as just that, a record, so if any sort of interpersonal dispute between clowns arose they could rely on their egg’s existence/history to defend themselves against accusations of theft, or vice versa. sorry to disappoint you freaks out there who want clowns to be jerks but it’s just not like that.

clowns international is not the only organization that does an egg registry, but it is the org that started it all, so theirs often come with a level of provenance. and for those of you who have followed me for a while you know what time it is, yeah that’s right, it’s time to PLUG MY OWN EGG AGAIN YEAH THAT’S RIGHT LOOK AT MY EGG

i promise i'll take new pictures of it soon

if you don’t know me and for some reason want to know more about me and my dearest egg i’ve got two posts about it. honestly extremely humble of me considering how up my own ass i am about this life achievement of mine

anyways, even with the societal downswing vis a vis the overarching cultural opinion on clowns, the organization is still going, and still making eggs. and i for one hope the practice never dies out, and that more specific organizations adopt similar practices. like can you imagine a woodworking guild that makes little wooden statuettes of all their members? the clowns are tastemakers and it's time we realize that.

and that’s the short of Clown Egg History! clown’s don’t lay eggs they are humans and they have very human history that is so so interesting and worth spreading and if i see anyone tag this as clown husbandry i cannot stress enough i will go scorched earth on your ass! if you have any questions on this or other clown-related stuff my inbox is always open and i love to spread the good word of Clown. also i’m sorry but i have a podcast to plug:

fully-clown-centric episodes are in the works and i am planning to have them release before the end of the year but until then please check out what i do have if ur interested in fool-related history! i don’t make any money off this i just really want to share the knowledge about fools across history i have learned because i’m insane and care a great deal about it :o)

[spooky-circuits]

Bruce doesn’t see his other brothers until he’s in pop village for the first time. Bruce Jr had been begging to see the village since Branch had sent them a holiday card for one of the many holidays involving massive amounts of sweet foods. Honestly Bruce had trouble remembering most of the minor holidays since living on the island so Brandy agreed the both of them could use that connection with the troll side of the family.

Too his surprise it seems John Dory was also looking to spend time with their baby brother. From Branch’s face it looks like John Dory had just invited himself over. His older brother hadn’t changed too much since their teens so it wasn’t hard to identify him especially with him talking to Branch. Bruce is shaken from his thoughts when his son calls out too Branch by yelling right into his ear and he sees John look right at him. “Well I guess there’s no more putting it off. Hey John long time no see! Two for one special on brother bonding this week I guess.”

John Dory is the one who rushes in for the hug and it’s a tight one. Thinking his brothers were dead for a decade it was still hard to think of them as alive until seeing them in person. John still worries this isn’t real some days and it makes him hesitant to release the hug. Until Bruce’s back makes a cracking sound. Okay it’s probably time to let him go. “Man it’s so good to see you! I heard you actually settled down that’s so hard to believe. Is that your kid?” He points to Bruce Jr hugging Branch tightly while Branch frantically pats his arm. “Ha yeah it’s crazy how things change. Bruce Jr is growing up so quickly me and Brandy can barely keep up!”

John laughs at that. “Hopefully the next one doesn’t give you too much trouble.” Bruce’s face pales at the thought of having to chase more than one kid around. “Well at least that won’t be for a while.” John looks surprised at this. “Oh did you not notice- you know never mind forget I said anything!” Now it’s Bruces turn to be confused. “Notice what?” John a low whine like he’s trying not to say anything. “John we’re both adults here lets try and act like it.” John lets out a sigh. “Alright alright! You just look like you’re due for another kid soon.” Bruce looks at him blank faced. “Excuse me?”

John is trying to look anywhere but Bruce’s face since he’s feeling pretty dumb. Being the oldest he’d seen his parents go through the new baby song and dance 4 times. He thought he had a pretty good idea on the signs and looking at Bruce it was like seeing the whole thing all over again. Unfortunately John Dory wasn’t sure how to explain that in a way that didn’t sound like he was just making some assumptions. Which to be fair he was. John was practically withering the longer Bruce looked at him but he was ironically saved by his nephew coming over to introduce himself after squeezing the breath out of Branch. The perfect excuse to get out of this awkward conversation!

Bruce had just watched John Dory sputter and trip over his words while also not saying anything coherent for 3 full minutes before his son interrupts the awkward conversation. Bruce now had to ponder what about him gave JD the idea that he was going to be having another kid. He was definitely going to have ti corner his older brother and interrogate him about it at the next opportunity because you can’t just drop something like that on a person and not elaborate!

[cels-not-so-secret-love-affair]

falling to the music pt. 4 (jily)

a/n: we’re back again with jily because i am infested by brainworms. read on for marlene’s introduction, some little glimpses into what’s going on with remus and sirius (they’ll work it out, promise) and jily first kiss(es). p.s: the song the marauders cover is one of the boys by mott the hoople, and it’s a banger.

previous | next

Over the next good few days, the two of them text quite a bit. The habit just slips in, alongside her morning coffee and her nighttime skincare routine. James seems to be completely swamped with uni work, but still makes time for her, messaging her on his lunch breaks and phoning her up from the fruit and veg aisle in his beloved big Tesco’s to ask for her professional opinion on what he should prep for lunches that week. He sends her pictures of him brushing his teeth in his pyjamas at five o’clock in the morning, because he’s insane and likes to get up early, and she sends back photos of the sky in the evenings and her second (or third, or twelfth) latte that day. There’s a lot to learn about James. And, unusually in Lily’s experience, he seems to be equally as curious about her. He wants to know her favourite everything - colour, season, tv show, flower, music decade, sport. Then he wants to know why they’re her favourites, which prompts even more questions. It’s never an interrogation, though. He just wants to know.

Four weeks on from that first blinding meeting at the concert, then, and Lily is tucked up soundly in bed watching Criminal Minds on her laptop when a now-familiar notification lights up her bedside table. It’s James again - she can tell by the text tone. It’s different to her usual one. Instead of the normal chirpy sounding ping it’s a guitar riff, because she’s got a fucking crush.

James: hey lils?

Lily: Hi, James.

James: hello!

James: so i was thinking

James: we’re doing another gig soon, right?

James: and it’s a proper nice venue, i’m really excited about it

James: and i was wondering

James: if maybe you’d sort of almost kind of want to come?

James: you’d get all the friend of the band privileges and stuff, so you could turn up early (if you wanted) for soundcheck

James: and we could get you backstage too

James: oh and you could bring some friends if they’d want to come too

James: and everything would be free of course

James: drinks as well

James: idk, i just thought it would be nice to see each other so

James: is that like something you’d be up for?

Lily: Jamie, sweetheart.

Lily: I’ve been trying to send the word ‘yes’ since about six messages ago.

James: oh!

James: okay well yay!!

James: i’ll go grab the details and send them over then?

Lily: That’d be great :)

James: oh my god

Lily: What?

James: you just used a smiley face

Lily: Yeah? What’s wrong?

James: nothings wrong it’s just like

James: lily evans of proper punctuation and capital letters fame just used a smiley face

James: you would not believe how hard i am punching the air rn

James: i’m rubbing off on you ;)

Lily: Maybe so ;)

Lily: You two need to stage an intervention for me.

Marlene: hi lilsss

Marlene: bit extreme

Marlene: what are we supposed to be putting a stop to exactly?

Lily: Heterosexuality.

Marlene: oh okay in which case yes you’re correct and i am totally game

Mary: are we talking about james again x

Mary: lily sweetheart, you’re down bad 💗

Lily: I know, it’s awful.

Lily: However, would the two of you like to go out Friday night?

Marlene: fuck yes

Marlene: life is kicking my arse i need to get DRUNK

Marlene: tell me a time and place and i’m there

Mary: i’m free! x

Lily: Perfect!

Mary: where are we going? x

Lily: Right.

Lily: Promise you won’t take the piss.

Marlene: physically impossible, that

Marlene: but carry on

Lily: I may have just invited you to James’ next gig.

Mary: oh babes x

Mary: well at least it’s another chance for me to get a proper look at him

Mary: make sure he’s good enough for you 💋 

Marlene: tbf if there’s music and alcohol i’m happy

Marlene: and sure i’m curious about this guy and his band

Marlene: no piss taken on my end

Marlene: this time, we’ll see what i have to say once i’ve actually seen the bloke

Lily: I don’t deserve your kindness.

Friday whips around like a bullet, and before she’s even registered it Lily’s waiting anxiously outside of the venue in the cold, all dolled up and feeling vaguely nauseous. It’s not that she’s worried - Lily Evans is a confident woman, always has been and always will. A man is not about to muck that up for her. But he hasn’t responded to her text saying she’s there yet, and her friends are about to meet him, and it’s only her second fucking time seeing him in person which doesn't feel correct at all but that’s how it is apparently and blimey why is it so cold? But then she can hear a voice she’s most used to hearing over the phone, and suddenly things just seem to quiet.

‘Lily!’, comes James’ delighted cry as he jogs towards her from around the corner. His hair is messy as ever, and his eyes are creased up in that big beaming grin he wears so easily. Stopping in front of her rather breathlessly, he suddenly becomes awkward, hands fidgeting.

‘Sorry, I- I’m just realising we haven’t really, uh, done this… Could I give you a hug? Is that okay?’ Lily laughs, somewhat reassured by his obvious nervousness.

‘Sure, James. I’d like that.’ He pulls her into his arms then, and God she could just melt. He’s got the same cologne on from when they first met which of course means he smells practically edible, and his arms are strong and warm and comforting, and yeah, she could get used to this. But then he’s pulling away, and the cold that she had temporarily forgotten about begins to seep back into her bones with his absence.

‘Will you introduce me to your friends?’

‘Oh, yeah, sorry. Uh, James, this is Mary, Mary, James.’ James offers his hand to Mary, who shakes it and smiles appraisingly. ‘And then this is Marlene.’

‘Nice to meet you, Potter. I’ve heard a lot about you.’

‘Nothing too bad, I hope?’, James laughs, leaning across to greet Marlene too.

‘Well, we’ll see,’ she replies, returning the handshake with a strong grip.

James takes them in through the side door - ‘Alright, Sean? Yeah, these girls are with me, thanks man’ - and through to where the rest of the band are hanging out. Sirius is laying with his head in Remus’ lap (whose long legs are dangling off the edge of the stage), staring idly at the ceiling and speaking softly so that Remus has to lean down to listen to him. They make a complimentary pair, and seem very at ease with each other. Peter meanwhile is sat behind his drum kit texting furiously, but he looks up when he hears them arrive.

‘Hiya James, hiya Lily! Hiya Lily’s friends!’

‘Dezzie still breathing, Wormy?’ Peter looks slightly shy, but nods anyways.

‘Yeah, she’s doing good.’

‘Glad to hear it! Come say hello, won’t you?’

‘Two ticks!’

‘Sorry guys, bloody impolite this lot.’ James smiles ruefully at the girls. ‘Oi Pads, Moons! Get off your arses and talk to our guests!’ At this, Sirius and Remus look up from where they’re sat together in the corner, pulled forcibly out of their conversation and back into the room.

‘Hey, it’s Magdalene!’, Sirius grins, scrambling up quickly and bounding over to them. He winks at Mary as he says hello to her, then turns to Marlene, but is interrupted just as he begins to speak.

‘Lesbian, mate. Don’t try it.’

‘Ah. Duly noted. Nice hair! Now, Mary, darling…’ Remus, looking slightly hurt after having been abandoned, hauls himself up to his feet and comes to greet them too. He introduces himself to Lily and Marlene (since Mary is in the middle of being distracted) and Lily realises with some surprise that it’s the first time she’s hearing him speak. He’s quite quiet, with a singsong sort of accent and nice clear vowels. She shakes his hand warmly and is reminded of her impression of him when he was playing his solo. Then Peter finds it within himself to put his phone away and also joins them in conversation. He’s somewhat awkward, looking to James whenever his voice falters, but Marlene asks him a few questions about the band and he begins to chat quite earnestly. James beams delightedly and leans in to speak in a low voice into Lily’s ear.

‘Your friends are nice.’

‘Yours aren’t half bad.’

‘It’s good to see you, you know. You look lovely.’

‘Thank you, Jamie. It’s good to see you too.’

The venue starts to fill up with the rest of the crowd about a half an hour later, and the girls are front row. It’s really exciting, actually. There’s that sort of pre-concert buzz in the air, the low thrum of anticipation that underscores the chatter and the indie rock music playing faintly in the background whilst people buy drinks. A few girls just behind Lily are scrolling through The Marauders’ Instagram page, the glow of their phones lighting up bright, curious faces in the dimmed room. It’s clear that they don’t really know the band, but as they look through their posts a sort of running commentary starts up. One girl likes Sirius, which of course she does, and speculates rather loudly and inappropriately about the possibility of fucking him. Another protests at this, declaring that James is clearly the hotter of the two - ‘Look at that man in this photo and tell me he isn’t fit as anything!’, she says, passing her phone over and wiggling her eyebrows. Lily smirks quietly to herself. Yes, he’s fit, she thinks. And he wants me. The feeling brings a slight heat up to her cheeks.

Her thoughts are soon interrupted by a round of applause as the boys take their places on stage, Sirius leading them on. There’s a short moment of fidgeting with leads and adjusting guitar straps, before Peter raises his drumsticks in the air and looks to Sirius for his approval. All is quiet. Sirius nods, almost imperceptibly. The sound of the sticks rings out into the hush of the room for four clear counts. Then, all hell breaks loose.

The concert is insane, to put it lightly. By the time it’s over, Lily reckons she’s sweated off about six litres of water, her mascara is slightly smudged underneath her eyes and her feet are killing her. There’s a dull ache in the back of her head that won’t go away and she’s painfully aware of the fact that she’s scheduled a nine am study session with Alice for tomorrow. She wouldn’t change a thing. When the worst of the crowd has dispersed, their excited conversation and loud peals of laughter drifting out of the room, she checks in with Mary and Marlene before beginning to head round to the side door. Both report that they thoroughly enjoyed themselves, with Mary gushing enthusiastically about The Marauders’ cover of ‘One of the Boys’ and Marlene conceding that yes, they were quite good actually. Lily smiles giddily at having earnt her seal of approval, mentally congratulating James for passing the test. It’s cold when they get outside. The night is sweeping and gorgeous as they step out into the street, all bright lights and rushing cars, and there’s a sort of breathless exhilaration in being at the centre of it.

Lily’s just about to knock when the door is pulled quickly open from the other side. The sudden absence of it surprises her, and she loses her balance somewhat, which sends her stumbling forwards a few paces. Stumbling straight into James, as it happens.

‘Hey, steady on, mate- oh. It’s you!’ Lily rights herself quickly, startled, and blinks rapidly at him, the tops of her ears tinged ever so slightly pink. James looks down at her rather fondly and cracks a broad, easy grin.

‘Sorry Lily. I didn’t mean to give you a fright! I thought you’d be, y’know. Further away.’

‘Don’t worry, just a bit… unexpected, is all. You were amazing tonight.’

‘Thank you! I tried to look in your direction as much as I could, but I think I lost track of you towards the end a bit. Did you have a good time?’ He directs the last part to the group, peering over Lily’s head at Mary and Marlene and raising a hand to wave at them good-naturedly. This seems to suddenly make Lily aware of their proximity, as she moves back a bit to join ranks with her friends.

‘Yes, thanks,’ nods Marlene, in response to his question. ‘You guys aren’t half bad.’

‘Cheers, that means a lot.’

‘Will Sirius be coming out?’, Mary inquires. Lily shoots her a look, but she simply shrugs her shoulders and waits unabashedly for a response. James becomes awkward.

‘No, sorry, I don’t think so. He’s a bit, uh… occupied.’

‘He’s snogging Remus,’ yells a disembodied voice from beyond the doorway. It soon reveals itself to be Peter, who claps a hand on James’ shoulder and acknowledges the girls with a quick smile. ‘Quite thoroughly, actually’, he adds, matter-of-factly.

‘Oh. I didn’t know those two were an item,’ says Mary, looking a bit put out. James sighs, and rubs a hand across his forehead.

‘They’re not together, technically, it’s- it’s complicated. Did you really have to rat them out like that, Wormtail?’

‘It’s in the name, Prongsie-boy, it’s in the name.’

‘Yeah, well, anyways. Forget that. How are you ladies getting home? D’you need a lift?’

‘No, thank you, Jamie,’ Lily replies. ‘We can make our own way home just fine.’

‘You sure? I really wouldn’t mind, it would be my pleasure.’

‘The bloke’s offering, Lils. May as well take him up on it - especially if it’s a pleasure,’ presses Marlene, arching an eyebrow and smirking at her in a way that few would consider subtle. Lily pokes her tongue out back, but relents.

‘I mean, it would be useful, so long as you’re absolutely sure it’s no trouble.’

James’ car is nice; the kind of nice where you’re scared of getting in with mud on your shoes and it appears whoever designed it had an intense phobia of colours and non-curved objects. Heated-seats-nice. That bit’s pretty bloody lovely, to be fair. James, however, doesn’t seem to notice that it’s nice, and flops into the driver’s seat without a care in the world, slamming the car door and swivelling round in his seat to grin at the girls.

‘Chauffeur James, at your service. Where are we going?’

They drop off Mary first, since her house is pretty much on the way to Marlene and Lily’s. She thanks James for the ride, says her goodbyes to both her friends and disappears through the front door with a flurry of shouts about meeting up again soon as she blows giggling kisses over her shoulder. James’ eyes crease up amusedly as he watches her go. Then Lily taps her and Marlene’s address into the sat nav, and off they go again, cruising steadily past streetlights and takeaway places. Inside the car is pleasantly warm and the world outside seems to dissolve into a dreamy blur of softened shapes and colours. It’s nicer than public transport, Lily is forced to admit to herself. She watches James’ relaxed manner as he drives, smiles sleepily to herself and enjoys the soft, safe feeling that has begun to cradle her chest. Home comes far too quickly.

‘Here we are,’ James announces rather uselessly to the inhabitants of the house he’s just pulled up in front of. ‘Give me a minute, I’ll come round and open the door for you guys.’ He does as much, and Lily and Marlene get out, forced to sacrifice the warmth of the car for the brisk chill of the night outside it. Lily is distantly aware that this is her cue to say goodbye and go inside. This understanding hasn’t seemed to translate to her limbs just yet though, because she’s making no effort to actually walk towards the door. Marlene looks at her friend, then at James - who’s practically her mirror image opposite her - then sighs in a way that suggests she’s tired of being stuck in the middle of them.

‘I’ll be in my room if you need me, Lils. Have fun… standing.’ Lily blinks, then nods slowly.

‘Sure. I won’t be long.’

‘Yeah, okay. Thank you, James, for the lift and the night out. I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you again so, until then.’ Marlene waves at him, and departs.

‘So. This is your house. This is where we… part ways for the night, yeah?’ James says once she’s gone. He’s looking at Lily with big eyes like a rather mournful puppy, which is a fairly accurate representation of how she feels about having to say goodbye too.

‘I guess. We can chat for a bit though, can’t we? I know I’ve been watching you on stage all night, but I feel like I haven’t really seen you.’

‘Sure, yes, perfect, love that. Chatting. Hi!’ Lily covers a laugh with her hand and looks down at her feet.

‘Hello, Jamie,’ she replies, composing herself just enough to look him in the eyes again. Her cheeks ache from smiling.

‘You know you’re one of three people in my life to call me that?’

‘Am I really?’

‘Mhmm. It used to be just Sirius and my mum, but now it’s Sirius, my mum and… you. It’s weird.’

‘Should I stop?’

‘No, no, absolutely not. I like it. I like being Jamie to you.’ James’ voice is soft and shy.

‘Okay.’ Lily stares at him again awkwardly, lost for what to say to prolong the conversation but still not wanting to leave just yet. They’re both just smiling at each other quietly like giddy children.

‘Oh, you know what? To hell with it!’, Lily says suddenly. Then, with a business like tone and all in one breath: ‘James Potter, I have had a very nice evening and I think I should like to be kissed goodnight to round it off. Do you feel the same?’ James’ eyes widen a fraction as he processes, then flick to her lips. He takes a step closer, closing the gap that Marlene’s departure created, and brings a gentle hand up to cup her face.

‘Yes. Yes, I think I do,’ he says, before tilting his head and leaning in to kiss her sweetly. It’s a short kiss, tentative and caring, but when they pull apart he’s breathless from nerves. Lily grins at him.

‘Alright there?’

‘Yeah, uh… yeah. Glasses.’

‘What about them?’, asks Lily teasingly.

‘Not very conducive to kissing you properly.’

‘Well, we can’t have that. Kissing me properly is very important. Want me to take them off for you?’

‘Yeah. Yes, please. God, my brain’s gone to mush.’

‘I sometimes have that effect.’ Laughing, she removes James’ glasses, taking care not to poke him, and folds them shut. ‘That better?’

‘Much,’ James affirms, wrapping his free arm around her waist and pulling her into another kiss, this time deeper and more confident. Lily hums with approval, and reaches up to tangle her hands in his hair. Making out with James exceeds expectations, she finds, and a dizzying euphoria takes over her as he walks her backwards so that she’s up against the car. The two of them get lost in each other for a while. They fit easily together, exploring and enjoying each other with pleasant curiosity. James treats her tenderly, going slow and generally following her lead. Lily, for her part, has been thinking about this ever since James first got up on that damned stage, and very much intends to make the most of it. But then he’s hesitating, and breaking away from her, which is bloody unfair because they were just getting started, and he’d better have a good reason for this because all she really wants to do right now is to continue snogging him senseless. She leans back against the cool metal of the car with her arms crossed and peers at him inquiringly.

‘Lils… don’t get me wrong, this is like the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I am absolutely on cloud nine right now… but it’s, uh, it’s late. You told Marlene you wouldn’t be long, and I don’t want her to worry or anything. I’m sorry.’ Lily stares up at him and his sweet, sincere little face and finds herself simultaneously irked and endeared by him. Ugh. Curse him and his gentlemanly ways.

‘Yeah, that is true. God, you’re too nice for your own good. If you didn’t remind me about that we could have fucked in your car.’ James’ mouth falls open with a flustered expression. Lily snorts. ‘It’s fine, you can just dream of me for the time being. Save the sex for another day.’

‘Wow. Um, okay. You know Lily, you don’t make it easy for respectable blokes like me.’

‘That’s ‘cause it’s more fun,’ she giggles cheekily, tapping him on the nose. ‘Right. I’ll be off then. Thank you for my goodnight kiss - or kisses, actually - and text me when you’re home, okay Jamie?’

‘Of course. Goodnight, Lily Evans.’

‘Goodnight.’

[askbrozone]

OFFICIAL BRO ZONE INTERVIEW:

Interviewer: Bro Zone! So good to see all back together after twenty years of being apart! How does it feel?

Floyd: nerve wracking but it’s awesome to be together again

Interviewer: I mean this isn’t only just a band reunion, it’s a family reunion-literally!

John Dory: yep, haven’t spoken to each other in 2 decades and now here we are again!

Interviewer: was getting the band back together something you all decided easily or what was the process?

Floyd: Well it was just because of that whole thing going on in mount rageous with the twins, but then you know as the months went on and we hung out more we where all kind of like-man I really missed making music together

Clay: yeah and then Queen Poppy came to us like “hey do you wanna perform for your fans, ? Let them know you’re together again, theres a lot fans here that have been fans since the 90’s” and we couldn’t say no of course and performing again on stage on vacay island was just so, Exhilarating, I had that exact same feeling when we where in mount rageous doing the perfect family harmony, just like “man I’ve really missed this” the energy, the cheering

Interviewer: speaking of the Queen-Branch!

Branch: ha yeah

Interviewer: Cutest couple ever, I mean, pop star and queen of pop? What could be better

Branch: it really is something huh?

Interviewer: did she know at all?

Branch: nope, but to be fair, I didn’t tell anyone at all

Interviewer: you also recently revealed that you’re in another majorly famous boy group, Kismet, and you where the beloved hidden fifth member! How did you manage to keep that a secret?

Branch: honestly, I have no idea, pure luck to be honest

Interviewer: so branch has been out saving the world and being a pop star. What about everyone else? Floyd I know you’ve toured and released some solo music

Floyd: yep! Probably won’t be anything for a bit while we work on our stuff as a group bit hopefully I can find time to get new solo stuff in

Clay: Princess Viva and I where co running a group of pop trolls who hadn’t made it through the tunnels during the escape

Interviewer: so what’s you relationship with the princess?

Clay: announcing it here for the first time by the way-we’re actually engaged

Interviewer: Wow congrats!! So seems like you two have the same type

Branch: haha yeah, took me by surprise when I found out him and viva had been dating

Interviewer: and Bruce-the heartthrob, first to start a family?

Bruce: haha yeah! 15 years together…13 kids

Interviewer: how did you stumble upon the island? I mean it outside of trollstopia right?

Bruce: yeah it’s on an island…i just, walked you know? Just kept walking until I made it to the ocean then I traveled across until I found an island which so happened to be vacay island and I’ve lived there ever since

Interviewer: John Dory-I think besides Clay the least is known about your whereabouts, what have you been up to?

John Dory: living off the grid man-Hiking, surviving the wild

Interviewer: is it weird going from that to this?

John Dory: extremely

Interviewer: I’ve noticed compared to your interviews twenty something years ago, you aren’t speaking as much as back then

John Dory: yeah, I learned that I need to give my brothers a chance to speak instead of speaking for them

Floyd: he’s growing

Interviewer: of course I’ve gotta ask-is there an album in the works? Maybe a tour?

John Dory: no tour yet, we want Floyd healed up 100% but hopefully soon we can

Branch: but we can say we do have something else cooking in the studio, But I can say along with that we will be releasing our song Family that we performed at our reunion show as a proper studio single coming very soon

Interviewer: well I’m super excited and I know all your fans are excited as well-are you guys surprised that your fans from 1993-1999 are still here obsessed

Clay: oh definitely, I thought we would’ve faded out by now but we got to the village and the reaction was insane-and all the fans singing along and cheering for us at the show was wild

Bruce: yes, and we want to say thank you to the fans for never giving up on us even when we gave up on each other

Floyd: we promise to make everyone proud with our new music and the new era of BroZone

Interviewer: well thank you all for taking the time to speak with me today

John Dory: thank you for having us!

Interviewer: and I will be making sure I get tickets to every show

[the1975attheirverybest]

Hi! I was gonna comment on your initial post asking about info booths at Taylor Swift concerts but ended up on a tangent and it was too long for the comment section lmao. So, I went to night one at MetLife which was soon after the show Matty was at when he played with Phoebe during the opening set, and there wasn’t anything of that nature that I remember seeing anywhere in the stadium.

As an aside since I’m seeing all the talked about highly curated everything she does is, in retrospect the Eras tour is honestly so strange from a fan perspective. She doesn’t allow the audience to talk back to her at all, she never holds out the mic for the crowd to sing an iconic line, and all the talking bits seem to be nearly identical night to night based on watching IG/TikTok posts from various locations.

On the flip of that TikTok - ification coin you get the people like those at 1975 concerts that get aggravated when Matty isn’t super playful and chatty so I guess it can be argued that she wants fans to have the same experience at every show so that kind of “backlash” won’t happen….but also if she did a gender reveal or something for someone in the pit I feel like that would make them so happy lmao. What’s wild is that I feel like a lot of 1975 fans overlapped with Taylor fans but the one subsection that hates him with this unfounded internet passion was so loud they drowned out anything else.

idk I could never exist like like she does, it sounds fucking exhausting and I’ll die mad that we didn’t get the collab version of slut! - esp they were friends for a decade before all this shit went down.

This was so rambly - no pressure to post it 💕

Gotcha. Thanks for chiming in re: info booths! I was hoping to be wrong about that one lol. But I guess not.

Yeah I mean, idk, fan interactions tend to be part of the live gig experience. But, in her defense (see yall im not some hateful bitch lol) I think she might be thinking that since she does HUGE productions and outfit changes etc etc. she makes up for the lack of audience participation by giving them something else.

I’m honestly not too sure about SATVB. I wasn’t at ATVB so I only have TikTok’s to go off of, but matty was very chatty and fun at my Baltimore show. He wasn’t at MSG night 1 but I think that’s partly cuz the crowd sucked lol. They didn’t even know the lyrics to most songs. he was chill and funny at MSG n2. I think when people complain it’s cuz they want him to either be overtly sexual again or want him to be controversial. Like, MSG N1, the group of 3 next to me did NOT stop talking about how he was so much better last year when he touched his dick (consumption) and whatnot. It was disgusting. They didn’t even focus on the show. Just on objectifying him and waiting for him to do something crazy.

[umbralsound-xiv]

Volunteer.

I figure i’d wait a bit for him to simmer. Whole thing sounded like a mess. Viera walked in, Viera carried out.

...Ain’t get a good look at him, but... Can’t say he didn’t pique my interest.

Didn’t hurt to ask.

Vairg knocks a short, rhythmic sound on the outside of Grym's office door. Some time had passed since the other Viera had been carried back through it, and only when Vairg had felt it had been enough did he opt to disturb Grym's peace once again.

Grymahtyn lofted a brow at the knock. "Enter." His voice was loud, as ever - well heard through the door even if he didn't shout. He finished whatever writing he was in the process of, promptly stuffing the quill into its inkpot.

Vairg pushes the door open with a single sharp shove; just enough to step through the opening as it swung closed behind him. "Boss." Was the first word out of Vairg's mouth, as it ever was during a greeting, half dipping his head. "Got yourself a Viera." Cutting straight to the point, his tone almost seemed to loft at the prospect.

Grymahtyn: "Vairg." He returned as a greeting, leaning himself back in his seat. "We did. A mouthy one, at that."

Vairg: "Heard as much. Hard not to. Walked in. Dragged out. Couldn't help but hear the voices." His head slowly turns in that curious sort of way it often did. "He important?"

I was so hoping he wasn’t that important. Not important enough to keep from harm’s reach, anyway. I do like meeting other Viera! I do!

I like to know if there’s another out there that could come close to besting me, but judging by the perfomance i heard in here, i doubt it.

Still... Even with that dissappointment. I’m sure i could get some fun out of him.

Grymahtyn: "For now." Grymahtyn exhaled. "Bait for my runaway pet, hopefully a useful one."

Vairg: "For now." Vairg echoed. Still, it saught to wipe the smirk off his face for a moment, if only to briefly turn it into a contemplative frown. But the often worn smile is quick to make a return. "I'd like to meet him. Who've you got guarding him? I want their post."

Mmmm. Important. More to do with that Seeker girl he’s been after for fuck knows how long. Better not be too rough with him. Wonder if the Boss needs him to talk?

I like making people talk. I’m a great conversationalist.

Grymahtyn arched a brow at Vairg, head tilting. "Esunaux." The name left him more akin to a curse, irritation for the Wildwood's decades old failure lingering -still-. "You want to babysit him? I can't promise it'll be a particularly fun duty for you."

Vairg: "Better me than a fuck-up, if he's so important, yeah? Job done proper and all that." A pause, as he idly taps his foot, mulling. "...Any plans for him besides?"

Grymahtyn: "Mmhm.. You're not wrong." He grumbled, leaning back more fully in his seat. "It depends on X'llaya. If his presence here works as intended and bring her back to me, or if he's not important enough to her. It's between selling him or killing him."

Vairg: "I want to look after him until then." He said, as though any other outcome would have been considered. "What are the stipulations?"

Grymahtyn: "His survival is the only requirement, preferably that he remains conscious but it's not a necessity until I contact X'llaya. You are otherwise free to hurt him."

Oh, excellent.

I’ll try to keep him concious. Not sure how flimsy he is. Didn’t look like a big guy, but being carried about by Ket doesn’t help.

I’ll see. I’ll see soon.

Vairg: "I won't kill him. Where's the fun in that? I'll be his personal escort. Free Ket up for more important shit, yeah?" The grin had widened a little unsettlingly so, as Vairg tapped his toes, pacing side to side for a few moments.

Grymahtyn: "Very well. You'll take over Esunaux's duties involving the Viera, do you wish to tell him such yourself?"

Vairg: "Course." Vairg grins. "Don't worry, Boss. I'll make him feel... Welcome. Can't promise about the conciousness bit, though. But i won't do nothing a healer can't fix."

Grymahtyn: "Fine by me."

Vairg: "Sounds good." His expression doesn't move an ilm, simply holding eye contact with Grym for a little longer in silence, soon turning for the door and leaving the way he came.

I’ll tell that useless sack of shit to find something more within his capabilities, and take a seat. I’ll listen. I’m a good listener.

...At least i’ll have some entertainment for the next few suns.

[j-graysonlibrary]

His Transgressions Built It: Chapter 22

Title: His Transgressions Built It

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 51K

Genres: psychological horror, drama, LGBT+

Available on: my website and on Kobo

Synopsis: After living almost a decade estranged from his family because of his transition, Noah is called back to his hometown to take care of his young niece and nephew when their parents die suddenly. Because the children only know of their distant "aunt", Noah pretends to be his own husband in order to not explain himself or cause further issues. But, in doing so, he has to navigate the small town, filled to the brim with his childhood trauma, under the guise of a complete stranger.

Full chapter 22 under the cut

XXII:

The cold, sterile room gets less frightening every visit since Noah now understands he won’t be hauled off to an asylum with one wrong answer. He kicks his feet out as he waits for the doctor to enter the room and he looks at the same four posters that always keep him company.

A diagram about heartburn.

A poster for a chemo medication.

Signs of dementia.

And a cute animal motivational poster.

There are, of course, also the certificates and diplomas with his doctor’s name scrawled across them.

When the man walks in, Noah sits up straighter. He is tired, they both are, but that’s unavoidable. It’s quite early in the morning and the sun is probably just starting to rise outside.

Noah’s just grateful the hospital opens as early as it does. He would have a much harder time working visits into his schedule otherwise.

“Hello again, Noah,” the Doctor says with a weak smile. “How are you this morning?”

“Alright, so far.” He clears his throat and then asks, “You?”

“Wish I was back in bed,” his answer comes with a laugh. “Anyway, how are the meds treating you? Have you noticed any of the side effects we talked about? Anything you just don’t like?”

Once his doctor takes a seat across from him, on the wheeled stool, Noah recounts the past few weeks. He’s adjusted to the medicine and while it keeps him up some nights, he can say he’s mostly better.

There are no more ghosts.

No strange noises.

No fear about the world crumbling down around him.

People still stare at him but he guesses that’s the normal amount now. They certainly don’t follow him with their entire heads as he walks through the store and he doesn’t hear whispering behind his back.

“I think the dose is alright. I haven’t had any problems in a while.”

The doctor grins and slaps him on the shoulder. “Great! I can get you a refill of the same dosage and you can see me less frequently. I’m sure you’re happy to hear that.”

“No offense, but yeah.”

He and Noah share a laugh. It’s short lived and, for all intents and purposes, not real. Not really. Neither of them thinks it’s particularly funny but they proceed with the social script, as it necessitates.

Noah is getting better at responding in this way, when it’s unavoidable. It makes things easier, even if he doesn’t fully understand why.

As he leaves the office and turns into the lobby, his energy spikes.

It’s the excitement at getting to leave—at returning to his driver and friend.

Kiki waits in the lobby for him with a book cracked open on her lap and a pair of reading glasses resting on her nose. She notices him as soon as the door swings open and she promptly collects everything—shutting her book and setting her glasses back into their case. She retrieves her car keys and looks to Noah as they meet in the center of the room.

She and Shaun have been invaluable over the past few months. Kiki, especially, has practically moved into the house to help with the kids and having her around, at a near constant state, has kept Noah from spiraling.

It was hard at first but things have become routine. Occasionally, Shaun comes over but he doesn’t stay. He’s just company—proof that someone wants to see Noah. That someone wants to talk to him.

“All set?” Kiki asks as she flips her keys in her hand.

Noah nods and follows her out.

The sky is dark despite the sun having come up. It rained last night and it’s possible there’s more rain to come. Noah steps into a puddle as he walks but, even though he dips down into the earth for a split second, he doesn’t look down or panic. He simply continues to walk.

Kiki opens the door to the driver’s side but she doesn’t enter the car just yet. She looks at Noah from over the hood and she asks, “Ready to take the long way to work?”

It’s a loaded question and he gives it some thought.

He’s been by before but he’s stuck in the habit of not looking. Not really. Kiki’s mostly been the one driving anyway. He’s had the privilege of averting his eyes.

Seeing it now…it could set him back.

He’s aware.

So is she.

But he nods. “Yeah. I think so.”

They both step into the car and Kiki switches through the radio until a relaxing, easy-listening song appears. Then she changes gears and begins to drive. She can’t start a trip without the right song as the soundtrack. If she skips this step, she’ll have bad luck.

It’s something she and Noah can agree on. She understands him in this way and the little rituals she has, as benign as they may be, make Noah feel closer to her.

They’re some of the only people on the road and the clouds thin out, allowing a few rays of sunlight to penetrate through. It’s heavenly and if a booming voice came from above, Noah wouldn’t be surprised. He looks up as the trees and small shops pass by the windows. The sky doesn’t change. Nothing does.

Then, Kiki slows and, eventually, stops. She’s pulled off to the side of the road and the tires pick up gravel, crunching underneath them. It’s colder now, Noah feels, but he knows that’s just his anxiety sinking into his bones and striping him of warmth.

He turns his head and cranes it back down, level. Before he fully takes it in, he opens the car door and swings a leg out. Whatever is there, he needs to see without anything between him and the view. Kiki follows him out—he hears her but he doesn’t check over his shoulder.

In the big lot, on the side of the road, the remains of the church stand as evidence of reality. The basic foundation is there and many of the walls still stand but the wood is so neglected it could probably collapse under the duress of a strong wind. A bright but weathered slip of paper is pasted to the door.

It’s condemned.

The doors are open but only darkness is inside.

No one is there. Likely, no one has been there for years.

Noah traces the perimeter of the building with his eyes and then closes them. A sigh passes through his lips. He can remember God and it could speak to him again, if he allows it. But Noah cuts it off and decides to accept what his eyes tell him.

Now that he’s in the company of Kiki and his mind is as balanced as it has been all year, he’s alright. He slips, sometimes, and any overburdening can see him at square one but it’s his will that matters. Just because he can’t be cured doesn’t mean he can’t try to live normally.

Giving up is tempting.

But Kiki won’t let him.

Neither will the kids.

“Is it too much?” Kiki asks after a long pause. She’s come around the car to stand beside him.

“No,” Noah answers, honest. It’s a lot but it’s not going to break him.

He doesn’t see Father Robert wheel himself out from the sanctuary. He doesn’t hear Christopher call his name. “Finder” returns to “Find her,” in his memory. He’s sure it’s all in order, even if it stings.

Kiki rubs along his arm. “Alright. We should get going then.”

Noah nods, agreeing silently.

When they get back in the car, Kiki passes through the stations again. She picks a song that’s more upbeat this time and the remainder of the trip is spent with sugar pop sounds and punchy, motivational lyrics. Noah finds himself smiling as Kiki bobs her head along to the music.

Their destination comes into view.

It’s not crowded, never really is. Noah waits for the song to come to a close before he removes his seatbelt and exits the car. He knows it’s one of Kiki’s favorites so he wants her to enjoy it all the way through—even if the last few notes are cut off by the DJ.

She sighs and they walk to the front doors together. Shaun has already opened and he’s behind the admission counter with only one group of customers bowling in a lane far behind him. The pins crash. It sounds like a strike.

“Mornin’,” he greets them both with a tired mumble.

Noah offers his hand to Shaun. They share a quick bro hug and, when he lets go, he responds just the same, “Mornin’.”

After changing into his uniform, Noah takes Shaun’s place at the front counter while the cousins go to the bar, where they spend most of their shifts. The two spots are close enough to facilitate and maintain conversation, if things are slow, which they usually are.

Noah pulls out his phone, while Kiki and Shaun do maintenance work behind the bar, and he checks in with Ellie. She’s gotten a new manager partner, to replace him, but she complains about them quite a lot.

They’re not as good as Noah.

They’re not as laidback.

Not as easy to talk to.

Their conversations, even over text, don’t quite feel the same as they did, once upon a time, but Noah reaches out and responds regardless. He may lose her, given more time, but he’s not completely surrendering to the possibility.

As he’s texting, he hears the bell of the front door. It’s probably another small group or a very bored couple.

One of those predictions is half-true.

Two people stand before Noah and they have their arms looped. He can’t speak at first as he takes them in, every detail. He’s seen them. He knows them. And he knows them quite well, he’d say.

Although her face is now human, the body of Sauriel is before him. She is covered in a pale, lacey dress but her curves and stature are things he couldn’t forget, even after months of medication. Lucifel is no different.

When they talk, it’s even more apparent.

“We’d like to bowl—do we pay by the hour or…?” Lucifel trails off, and while their voice sounds the same, it’s less confident than Noah’s used to. Their fashion sense makes up for this as, just like in their domain, they wear all blacks with lots of glossy leather and straps. It’s not a fashion that’s popular in this town—they must stick out to everyone else too.

He blinks a few times, having to find his bearings. “Um, it can be by the hour. And then you can add on.” Noah’s mouth goes dry. He knows them but they don’t recognize him. Or they’re testing him, for some reason.

No, he can’t think like that.

It’s dangerous and he’s aware.

His attention snaps back to the present when Sauriel grins and nudges Lucifel. “Let’s do two hours. I wanna day drink.” There’s a sweeter tone to her voice, now that it’s coming from a mouth.

Noah rings them up, passes them some shoes, and watches as they settle into their lane. He hopes they don’t notice his staring. He hopes he doesn’t chase them away.

He’d like for them to come back. Maybe he can talk to them more.

If they don’t remember him, that’s okay. They could still become friends, while he’s on his meds. He allows it to fester, as a possibility.

In fact, he recounts Lucifel’s own words to him:

Good things can happen sometimes, too.

[the-new-pokespe-futures]

Vs Imposter (The Return)

Ok, now that I FINALLY got some lore out 😅, I think it’s time to start the prologue. (Also, don’t worry, Now as you can tell, I choose to began with Vs Imposter as it’s the mod to be released in 2023 as far as I can tell plus, it received a HUGE Glow-up in V4 and heck V5 is coming. However, these songs will be from Vs Imposter but they’re human mod V2 and that hasn’t been released so I probably may skip this story. But without further ado, let’s begin with the prologue:

Prologue (Tutorial)

Wally is shown in his room resting after a tiring day of practicing Pokémon battling against Sapphire, “Jeez, that battle was tough, I really wish I could take my mind of something.” Soon, he remembered his decade long adventure/disappearance in other timelines and yet, no matter how thrilling but terrifying it was, it never ceased his boredom. Soon, he remembered a certain coordinator from that timeline who traveled with him during his misadventures and how she always supported him no matter how dire the situation is. So, just for nostalgia he decided to call her via Pokégear:

Wally: Hey, it’s me, hope you’re doing fine and I didn’t call at a bad time.

?????: No, no it’s fine don’t worry 😉

Wally: Alright then, remember our decade long adventures?

?????: Yeah?

Wally: I kinda miss it, but could you do me a favor?

?????: Sure! What favor?

Wally: C-Could you sing with me? I haven’t sung in a long time and I need to make sure m-my vocals aren’t rusty, in case they came back again.

?????: Alright then, since I’m free now.

Wally: Thanks Lisia, you’re the best!

Insert: Tutorial EX (from Bob & Bosip mod) (I couldn’t think of lyrics so if you can add lyrics, I’d gladly appreciate it)

Wally: Wow! That was really refreshing, thanks Lisia!

Lisia: You’re welcome, oh geez it’s getting late, I guess I’ll go now, bye Wally!

Wally: Bye!

And with that, Wally puts down his Pokégear— wait a minute, why did it shut down? Wally was sure that he didn’t off it yet. But his question was soon answered as a voice rang out from the device. Much to Wally’s horror he knew who this was,

“YOU’RE A PERSISTENT LITTLE SHRIMP AREN’T YOU?” Wally sweat dropped at the message,

“WELL THEN……..”, a loud static scream sounded out causing Wally to drop the Pokégear,

“LET’S HAVE A LITTLE REMATCH SHALL WE? IN ONE WEEK, IN YOUR LITTLE SINGING CONTEST OF YOURS……..” that caused Wally to sweat profusely from the head.

“Wally? Are you Ok? Did something happen?” Wally jumped from the voice and calmed down when he realized that it’s just Ruby.

“E-E-Everything’s f-fine Ruby, nothing to worry about!” Wally tried his best to stay calm, even though Ruby doubted his word, he decided to let it go. Turns out, he came to Wally’s house to give him the tickets to the contest, however, Wally didn’t seem to be excited but rather, slightly disappointed? Must be seeing things, it was getting late after all, soon Ruby left the house. Once everyone was asleep, Wally adjusted his voice collar, reached into his cupboard and pulled out a microphone. It was no ordinary microphone, having strapped to some device which could extend the end using a cord functioning as a weapon, but it was also precious gift from his lover. (Remember, Wally’s older than Red, Green and Blue by 5 years in this Au despite being biologically 10) Grabbing his hoodie which had gotten dusty but was was settled easily, lastly, he adjusted his hair clip which was a parting gift as a talisman for protection and good luck. Sighing to himself before drifting off to sleep, microphone in hand , it looks like he has to rap once again against his opponents. Only one thing is on his mind: Let’s get freaky on a Friday night, once again………

Upcoming: (Once Vs Imposter but they’re human V2 is released)

Week 1: Pallet Problems

Week 2: Coporational Madness

Week 3: Contestal Atrocities

????????

What’s coming next? Stay tuned……..

Now, I probably won’t be touching on this Au for some time until the mod gets released, but I will cover some side stories which happened in this Au and I also want to cover some of my other Aus as well. I hope y’all are Ok with this

[imaddicted2hs]

ONE SHOT- Broken Mirror

Its going to be sad sad so brace yourself guys.

And yes hey, posting after like decades lmao. Its just a little something i have been feeling lately so if you wanna feel a lil sad, this is the one shot maybe.

Word Count- 1.4k

Warnings- Angst

Happy Reading!!

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I slowly breathe in as I mindlessly open my case. I grab the neck of my black guitar, pulling it out carefully. “You will play great y/n I know, don’t stress it too much yeah?” I give my friend a small tight lipped smile and look around to see if he’s there.

We don’t have the same class anymore but he has friends in my section so he often visits during the common break. I have spent nights memorising this very song by heart. I learned to play it on guitar so that I could sing it all out, all my feelings for him. But it will be like a knife was stabbed in my heart if he doesn’t show up. I notice a few heads turn towards me as I sit on the desk, positioning my guitar. I feel the coarse strings on my fingertips as I hold some random chords and give it a light strum. Before beginning with it I quickly glance at the door and to my surprise I make eye contact with him. It’s so quick that I barely see anything other than his green orbs looking at me and his body leaning at the door frame basically effortlessly. Without giving it a second thought I start strumming the intro attracting a few more half interested peeps around me. I get lost in singing right away because I have always felt those lyrics deep in my bones. I was in no way a singer but I was fine enough to not make other people’s ear bleed and sound tolerable if there was light music in the background.

“I wanna taste his lips, yeah cause they taste like you, I wanna drown myself in a bottle of his perfume.”

I made sure to change the pronouns as I sang the song and I tried my best, I really did, to not turn my head to the left as I said the you part but it was almost like my actions were out of my control. Ofcourse I regretted doing that because as soon as I turned my head, he stared right at me and I saw his eyebrows shoot up, which was almost unnoticeable, but I caught the slight surprise in his eyes. Regardless I continued and it felt like the song ended too fast or I swallowed a whole verse or something but maybe I was just being paranoid. My idiotic brain made sure to not skip looking at him at any of the ‘yous’. It was almost embarrassing because I felt like a few people noticed it. I strum the last chord and let it echo as I pull my hand away and smile at the small crowd in front of me. I didn’t even notice that I’d attracted a good amount, probably around 50 people, as I played. Not even a second later I heard a small applause and my friend's rushing words like “dude how” or “damn girl” as she gave me a side hug. I didn’t have the guts anymore to look at him again and my only friend who knew about him gave me a sympathetic look which I just shrugged to in response. So what really was the deal? Harry Styles. The boy I have liked since 7th grade, which means it’s been almost 5 years now. We were not strangers no but we weren’t close friends either. The dynamic we had was too confusing for me to understand properly. We actually did pretty great when it came to texting but it all came down to puddles of awkwardness and almost forced conversation whenever we tried to talk face to face. It wasn’t like that for the first year I’d met him but after two years of not seeing each other and only texting at times, it all ended in this weird ball of confusion. Almost like an intangible mess of lose threads. And what made it worse was my old ex best friend, now like a frenemy, was closer to him than I could ever be. It was almost excruciating to watch them talk so freely and even laugh together. It’s a thought that can make me bust into tears at anytime of the day so I won’t go down that road. I hear a few “that was really nice” and “great job, keep it up” as I start to put my guitar back in because boys around here can’t be trusted. All the compliments made sure to put a permanent smile on my face but my bubble is popped as soon as I see him approach me. “You looked adorable while playing the guitar.” It takes me a second to get a grasp of what he said but I mutter a quick thanks as I try to find something, anything, to do with my hands as we talked. “Could we talk for a moment?” I close my eyes and mentally curse myself because I had a feeling that this would happen but I also had a small hope that he won’t find the guts to do this. “Sure ofcourse” I reply as coolly as I could. I follow him as he tries to make small talks. I know I can break the ice and make it less hard but something inside me doesn’t want me to. Almost as if my soul is enjoying watching him struggle. “So how’s life treating you?” “Nothing much, what about you?” Him and his dry replies again. I just shrug in response to challenge that response. “So who’s the guy crush?” He askes me all of a sudden and I just scoff as a reflex. “Are you really asking me that right now?” My question is laced with annoyance and I can see that he’s taken back by my sudden change in mood but I’m done pretending now. Before he can say anything I attack him with my words. “Not a single glance I gave you was the answer to the question you just asked? I can’t take it anymore Harry, I can’t. Either you are just naive or you just don’t want to see what’s right in front of you.” My voice is shaking but I continue because his face portrays not a single emotion right now.

“You give me all of these mixed signals and I almost believe that you like me but then you sometimes say stuff that screams ‘we are friends’ right in my face. I like you Harry and this all is killing me.” I just stare at him because I know he deserves atleast a little time to comprehend it all. He sighs before he makes a go for it. “Y/n you’re cool and a nice friend but I’m just not looking for a relationship right now. But I promise that we can be really good friends. You can trust me.”

“That’s it? Good friends after this? What? Okay not looking for a relationship. With me or in general? And why didn’t I hear you say that you don’t reciprocate these feelings? What if that girl you like liked you back? You would date her I’m sure.” I can’t think straight as I bombard him with all these questions with tears daring to fall from my eyes. He just gives me a look from which I can’t make out anything and I just stand there watch him leave after he mutters an apology. I want to scream at him. I want to yell and let him know that now also he did nothing but communicate badly and I hate him for not liking me back but I don’t say any of that. Instead I break into tears and let all the frustration out because it really isn’t his fault. He never asked me to fall for him and he never asked me to get attached to him. He didn’t promise me a strong bond or a friendship. He didn’t because he didn’t need to. I fell into the ugliest trap of one sided love and I resent the fact that anything like that exists. I get a hold of myself and I sprint into the nearest restroom. I wash my face, tell myself everything is fine and somehow make it out alive of the next three hours of school. I reach home and in no time I lay on my bed and I cry and cry until I have no tears left. He didn’t feel the same. It felt like I had looked in a mirror, but it was broken. I’d shouted but the voice hadn’t echoed. I had thrown a pebble in the lake and the droplets hadn't repeled. I didn’t like this feeling and I just wanted to wallow in my sadness for the whole night. And that’s exactly what I did.

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Thoughts??? Constructive criticism is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated and I hope I have improved. I'll writing something longer and better soon maybe. See ya till then;)