#a slideshow of road lines

[biblio-smia]

one | two | three

when it rains, it pours.

this sentiment rings in your chest - dully, an ache you can't get rid of.

the gray clouds that had hung in the sky, over your head, began to empty themselves mercilessly over grizzly lake. this morning's soft breeze picked up into an icy wind, creating a white cloud of rain that your windshield wipers could not quite battle. you could barely see the cars you shared the road with, water pounding on the roof of your car as you finally made it into your driveway.

the relentless rain had begun as a stray raindrop in your eye as you furiously walked to your car after your chewing out of clapton davis.

despite the anger you still held on to, warm in your chest and keeping you from shivering in your soaked clothes, you hoped clapton made it home before it'd begun to storm.

your home was empty, quiet as you padded to your room, cold hands digging for cozier clothes to lounge in. as you exchanged your wet clothes for dry ones, clapton wasted no time in intruding your thoughts.

each exchange you'd had with clapton began to play like a slideshow in your head, from the first time you'd seen him around to the first time you'd actually noticed him.

the timeline of whatever had been going on between you and clapton was beginning to haunt you - it had no real definition. there was no concrete evidence of being anything more than friends. the idea had lived in the thoughts and assumptions of others, it had stopped there, never anything tangible to explain away the pain that you and clapton now shared.

the only proof that there was anything romantic lived in shy laughs exchanged and eye contact held a few seconds too long - but that was not anything real, not a confession or a date. so there was no reason to feel as heartbroken as you did now.

it wasn’t like clapton had done anything explicitly. but the way it’d felt like he was accusing you of something, of falling into a stereotype that had been pushed upon you, as if he’d thought it’d happen inevitably. had the line of thinking that, somehow, clapton davis was not cool enough to ask you out held him back from doing so?

the entire thing was beginning to make your head spin and your chest hurt, no longer able to discern what pain came from hurt and which came from anger. you could no longer tell what it was you wanted.

actually, no. it was clapton you wanted. you did still know that.

your brain forcibly showed you all the times he’d push his calculator over to you, answers sometimes right, mostly wrong, always trying to be helpful. all the times he’d sit a little too close to you, all the times he’d slump on the table when mr. kendall got too boring and his arm would slide right up against yours, his head just a few inches away. all the times you wondered what it’d be like running your hands through his curls, the moments you considered pretending that something was in clapton’s hair just to have an excuse to try it.

all the times you’ve imagined what his face would look like if you suddenly pulled him into a kiss.

clapton davis liked you. you knew this, a feeling deep in your gut. he had to, to talk and act like how he did with you. to ask you, clearly out of jealousy, if you were dating billy nolan out of all people (who was so terribly not your type).

you try to remember this about clapton as you try to calm your rage. there’s a part of you that’s glad you chewed clapton out, hopes he learned that you’re not as superficial as others might make you seem, and there’s another part that hopes you haven’t scared him off permanently.

god, you’re so glad it’s friday.

though, you wonder what it’d be like if you did have to see clapton tomorrow. would he act as he usually did, pretending like nothing had happened? would he apologize? ignore you? again, clapton had successfully begun to drive you crazy.

your head was aching and your eyes were closing, the sound of the rain still steady against your window as you drifted off, wondering what clapton would do now.

"clapton, i am seriously going to murder you."

"okay, sorry, geez," clapton sighs as he drops next to riley, weighing down the mattress. if his distress wasn't clear enough with the pacing that was driving riley crazy, it's evident with the way clapton groans hopelessly, palms rubbing his face as if to will a good idea out of his head. "i just don't know what to do." clapton admits desperately, edge in is voice muffled by his hands.

riley sighs. she's been partially annoyed when clapton appeared at her door, stomping in straight to her room without waiting for an invitation, riley grateful that her father had chosen to pass out in his room instead of the living room as she chased after clapton, awaiting an explanation. he'd given it to her as he paced, recounted every interaction, repeated every word exchanged. no, clapton davis could not remember formulas in physics, but he could remember how your face had light up when he'd complimented your sweater, how you'd proudly told him you'd thrifted it.

riley listens intently, letting clapton rant, forming her own objective opinion. she tries to take the things clapton says with a grain of salt, to imagine conversations between the two of you from an outside perspective. even then, you had to be into clapton if you let him make you listen to the music on his ipod - it was bad.

"okay," riley begins, idea suddenly striking her. "give me your phone."

"why?" clapton asks, removing his hands from his face, immediately defensive as he looks over at riley. "what are you going to do?"

"just trust me, okay?" riley puts a hand out impatiently, only content when clapton digs his small phone out of his pocket and slaps it into riley's hand. his heart is beating rapidly, eyes nervous as he glances at riley typing quickly.

"hey, i'm sorry about today," riley reads. "can we talk?"

"okay, no, that's bad," clapton says, immediately thinking of how to rework riley's words.

"too late. already sent it."

"what?" clapton shoots up in his spot, horror-stricken and mouth agape.

riley tries not to laugh.

clapton's phone buzzes and his heart sinks. that's it. it's over.

riley gasps. "now, question mark, question mark." clapton thinks you sound annoyed, while riley insists your quick response is a good sign.

"only... if... you're... not... busy," riley reads as she types. "we... can... meet... some- oh."

"what? riley, what?" clapton scoots closer, desperate to see what text from you had managed to shut her up.

but riley's smiling, flashing the small to screen to clapton. to his surprise, before clapton (riley) could even offer a location, you had sent clapton your address.

"clapton davis," riley grins. "you've got one more chance."

you know clapton lives nearby, details of some old conversation fuzzy in your brain. as soon as you text clapton your address (a very brave move, you must admit), you're in the mirror, trying to fix yourself up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

it seems like there's a knock at your door in a time so short it couldn't possibly be clapton.

you're wrong, of course.

with a knack for proving you wrong, clapton davis stands on your doorstep, temporarily shielded by the small roof above your door from the rain that still falls. he's thoroughly soaked, his dark shirt sticking to his body, his jeans a darker color than they originally were. his hair sticks to his forehead in thick strands. there's still a few drops of water running down the bridge of this nose, down his arms, off the ends of his hair and sticking to his thin eyelashes. he's looking at you with wide eyes and his mouth slightly agape, as if he can't really believe he's here.

a drop of water makes it into his eye and clapton blinks quickly, rubbing his eyes and shaking off his hair.

"oh, my god, clapton," you exclaim, putting your hands on his shoulders, feeling the cold, wet fabric of his shirt. you keep the door open with your foot, try to lead clapton inside, but he shakes his head, rooted firmly to his spot.

"i'm gonna get your floor wet," clapton says.

you look at him exasperatedly but you can tell he's being serious. it's becoming unsettling, now, how often you've seen the boy you thought was all jokes and easy smiles turn sincere, even innocent with you.

perhaps you didn't know clapton as well as you thought you did, either.

"just hang on, okay?" your words are soft, but you don't wait around to see how clapton responds to that as you turn back inside. you wonder, as you move to the bathroom to get a fresh towel, if clapton will still be there by the time you open the front door again, or if he'd have come to his senses and made a mad dash home.

but clapton davis has waited for you, believed that you would not leave him outside in the rain.

clapton sees the towel in your hands and reaches for it but it's pulled away just as his fingers graze the material. he watches you come closer, letting the door shut slowly behind you, finding that he is unable to move as you drape the towel around his shoulders, press it against his arms to try and absorb all the extra water dripping down his limbs.

clapton wasn't sure what he was expecting. maybe more yelling? definitely annoyance. certainly not this softness.

clapton knew you liked him (though it'd taken you saying it straight to his face for him to catch on), but he'd only partially believed riley when she told him he had another chance. even as he ran to your house, even as you opened the door to see him, clapton had fully believed his jealousy had pushed you away completely.

but now, as clapton kicked off his wet shoes and did his best not to track any water into your home, clapton was starting to think that maybe he did still have a chance.

clapton sits on your bed, in a change of clothes you had scrounged your house for. you'd insisted on clapton changing into something warm and dry, refusing to get blamed if clapton got sick (as if he'd ever blame you). his roughly towel-dried hair is still a little damp and he's completely silent for what he thinks is the first time in his entire life, trying to gather his thoughts.

he feels uncomfortable, out of place. he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be sitting on your bed like it was an everyday thing. he's especially fidgety under your stare - it's not angry, clapton's sure, but it's expectant, which is worse. after all, clapton is the one who put in so much effort to be here. so, now that he's here, why can't he manage to say anything?

you've caught on to clapton's quiet dilemma and you take pity on him, sighing as you uncross your arms and move to take a seat next to him.

"sorry i got so mad at you," you say finally and you mean it. you knew some of it was misdirected, that you'd taken out annoyance at the general population of grizzly lake high on clapton davis. but you look over to see clapton shake his head, scoffing lightly.

"no, no, you shouldn't be," clapton insists. "i'm sorry. i didn't... i don't think you're some popularity-obsessed person. i just let... someone convince me that any of that mattered."

"who?" you ask a little playfully, curiously.

"sander," clapton says, rolling his eyes a little as he finally brings himself to look at you.

that makes you laugh. "sander? of all people?"

clapton laughs lightly, looking back down at his lap. "i know. stupid, huh?"

your voice softens. "completely. as stupid as thinking i would ever date billy nolan."

clapton laughs, scoffs again. "okay, yeah, that was also pretty stupid."

"but i don't think you're a stupid guy, clapton. i think you do stupid things, but i also think you're sweet. i think you're smart when you want to be, about the things you really like. you have a way of getting along with anyone and your music taste is so weird but i like it-"

"hey!" clapton exclaims, eyes on you again. but he's smiling now, not one of his signature smiles, but a i-can't-help-it smile, one that stretches wide and hurts his cheeks a little. "you know, i think i should be the one doing this."

"well, i'm not stopping you."

clapton takes a breath. "okay, well... you're stunning, obviously. but you're also so nice. you laugh at all my jokes, so you clearly have a great sense of humor. you're smart, and you have this way of this way of talking that just... is captivating."

"clapton davis, are you trying to tell me you like me?" you grin playfully.

"oh, duh. i think half the school is in love with you."

you're laughing again, one of those bright ones clapton loves, bumping clapton's shoulder gently.

"i'm sorry i was a douche. seriously, i shouldn't have believed a rumor and i shouldn't have assumed you'd like billy just because he's on the football team," clapton shakes his head.

"yeah, football players aren't really my type," you agree with a nod. "i prefer class clowns."

clapton smiles, tries not to blush, as he notices your hand in the space between the two of you, slowly inching closer. he really has no choice but to finally make a move.

he slides his hand in yours first, waiting until you clasp your fingers around his before turning his body towards you. his free hand cups your face, glancing from your eyes to your lips and back.

"please let me kiss you."

you lick your lips and nod, breathing out a quiet yes and clapton slowly places his lips on yours, thinking your lips fit perfectly together as he tilts your chin, moving his head ever-so-slightly for the perfect angle. you lean back but clapton won't let you go so easily, pulling you in for another soft kiss, and another. he can't get enough of the feeling of your lips, missing the soft pressure every time you pull away.

clapton kisses you until his lips feel weird and you're laughing too much to kiss him back properly, hands somehow in his damp hair.

"go on a date with me? please?" clapton says a little desperately, only a few inches of space between the two of you as you try to catch your breath.

"i guess you've convinced me," you respond and clapton can't help but kiss you again, deeper this time. no longer savoring the taste of your lips but hungering for the feeling of them against his.

he breaks from you only when he can barely breathe, panting softly but refusing to separate himself from you completely, his hands on your back and your hip. he's looking at you carefully, not wanting to forget what you look like after you'd let him kiss you over and over.

"still don't think we fit together?" you mumble teasingly, hand on the back of clapton's neck keeping him close.

"oh, shut up," clapton groans, though most of it gets muffled by you.

requests are open! | masterlist

[gregsnero]

some highlights of the philly tour i jotted down/remember (ones i got on video will be marked with a * and posted sometime)

- glenn in that fuckass chimney sweep hat Sorry*

- charlies favourite mac is badass mac. rob likes fat mac

- all of them expressing their solidarity with the strikes

- charlie singing rock flag and eagle and having to restart due to glenn effing around with the mic

- how when they were filming the strawberry mansion bridge scene in mac day EVERYBODY in the crews cars got broke into*

- mrs mac being based off of glenns friends dad

- rob taking nitrous oxide in the mann parking lot and then making out with girls

- how they were all drunk during the shooting of the highschool reunion due to them not knowing the show was going to get renewed

- discussion on how dennis likes to be bound

- glenn didnt know what dennis' tools were going to be*

- wretched glenn and charlie philly accents. truly awful*

- trash twins glass box blooper extended with opening 5 second shot of glenn staring straight into the camera #GlennJumpscare

- differences between them and their characters. glenn saying he doesnt have tools in his trunk and how he should and then going "not those kinda tools. RELAX guys"*

- only one who can make kaitlin break is glenn. i love them*

- glenn trying a cheesesteak for the first time. 4 different ones*

- rcg deciding on nightman cometh as being the best sunny episode, rob mentioning charlie work, gang hits the road + waterpark

NIGHTMAN COMETH PLAYED DURING INTERMISSION!! with lyrics karaoke version*

- them giving out free cheesesteaks during intermission

- them pointing out the costumes in the audience ESPECIALLY the one guy with the jean shorts demonstrating how low he could go

- rob whipping out his jalen hurts jersey with a signature that looks like a dick*

- KAITLIN SHOWING UP!!! dee chant*

- im so sad that i didnt get charlie and kaitlin moving their chairs closer together and poking/hugging eachother on video. god

- they went into kaitlins bog stunt and how kaitlin never refuses any stunt (PEOPLES PRINCESS!!!) and how shit was swimming around in the mud*

- rob and glenn tying on the fill in the sunny line game, glenn won (i think) and then they did this bro high five it was magical*

- live tiny boy baby boy followed by glenn + kaitlin making out (rob encouraging)*

- charlie singing dayman marriage song and i like life in paddys pub with bts slideshow behind*

- rob making the entire audience cry with his story about the philadelphian whispering hole*

- end show dayman song all in dusters throwing out t shirts

i cried the end

[asherashedwings]

Someone-

Someone stop me from creating Sanders Sides designs, oh my god I can't go down this road again. Someone. Someone lock me up. At least until after I make the Pico line up and the part 2 of the fuckin. Slideshow video. That explanation of my FNF Connected Universe AU. That one. Someone lock me up. Actually just put me down.

[anteabbie]

A dramatic retelling of the time I had to give a presentation on the Petticoat Affair in APUSH bc I am SO BORED

December 2023, a few days before Christmas break, my APUSH teacher assigns us presentations, my group had the Maysville Road project, Petticoat Affair, and one other thing which I have forgotten

Now, me, being the naïve soon-to-be-hyperfixated-on-this person I was, I innocently said “I’ll do the Petticoat Affair“

So, I get home, and I’m reading the Wikipedia page, and I genuinely went wide eyed. I seriously thought for a second that I was reading the wiki page to a Netflix special lmfao.

I remember thinking wow this is the funniest thing I’ve ever read about and made my slide for the slideshow.

So, come the day I have to present, I am a DEER IN HEADLIGHT. I LITERALLY said “oh! Uh!” (I am so bad at public speaking fuck me)

(Also gonna add this presentation has haunted me since I gave it, it was SO bad)

So I’m laying down the basics, and I say a line that I still have mixed feelings over

“So, this rocked Jackson’s world”

I SAID SO THIS ROCKED JACKSON’S WORLD LMFAOOOOOOO GOODBYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

So, avoiding eye contact with my teacher and class, I finish.

Also I left out the JCC’s wife was the instigator bc I actually got embarrassed for both of them 😭 (knowing what I know abt her now, I to would be a bit terrified to tell her to stop!)

Also at first I felt a bit of sympathy for the Eaton’s but after learning they’re also fucking crazy I stopped (This is very Bojack Horseman coded)

End of rant

[archivio-disattivato]

(Link from www.nasalsudan.com/donate )

Urgent Relief Campaign for Sudan - BHO

We all know what our country is going through: a cruel and brutal war that destroyed all the components of the state, and the Sudanese citizen became a victim either by death, hunger, or disease. They try to survive, sometimes by displacement and sometimes by escaping from the line of fire to shelters, schools, and roads, where some do not even have the necessary necessities needed to live, especially in the presence of financial exploitation by some weak souls.

We, at the Brana Hanbanihu Youth Organization, registered with the Humanitarian Aid Commission (BHO), have launched an emergency campaign aimed at reducing the burden on citizens displaced from the hell of war by providing the necessary necessities of food, drink, and warm clothes (cold clothes) to the needy as much as possible and media assistance in disseminating and raising the needs of those in need.

We will have a working team from within the shelters and displacement areas, and we will currently start with displaced citizens from Al-Jazira State to Sennar State.

To achieve this, we need you to stand side by side with us more than ever before because the need is great and urgent, and we all know that. With your support and assistance, we are going to be able to alleviate even a small part of the current suffering that the Sudanese citizen, who is forgotten by the whole world, is passing through.

Hence, we appeal to all organizations, initiatives, and other bodies to activate initiatives to confront this major humanitarian disaster, and we affirm that we are ready to cooperate with all parties and initiatives that will alleviate the harm suffered by the oppressed Sudanese citizen and meet his necessary needs in light of this deteriorating humanitarian situation.

We ask God to be kind to our country, Sudan, to shed blood, to accept the martyrs, to heal the wounded and injured, and to help and protect the displaced and refugees in all parts of Sudan.

BHO's bank account number: 2781775

Account name: Brana Hanabneiho Organization

Or via PayPal: Baranahanabneiho@gmail.com

[selamat-linting]

so, i was enrolled in a vocational highschool. its the type of school that are halfway a tradeschool. its a program in my country that i quote here, meant to produce ready-made workers right out of the education system. the curriculum for every highschool major you took is different, but i personally never learn biology, geography and chemistry beyond the basics in middle school.

random aside over, for one year me and my classmates (computer programming major) had to share a classroom for normal school lessons with the guys majoring for heavy equipments engineering. one time there was an orientation presentation for them and we had to sit there as the teacher told them the kind of work theyre expected to do. so, theyre going to learn maths and physics and everything else so they know how to operate and fix industrial grade machinery like the massive trucks meant to ship coal around, mega structures to dig tunnels for mining operations.

during the last slide, the teacher showed them a slideshow of workplace deaths.. it was morbid, he said to us that death is inevitable on your line of work. its going to happen. of course we can minimize this by following safety codes, but accidents will happen.

and it doesnt register to me as weird at the time, but its stuck in my mind. like i had the vague sense that something wasnt right. and it isnt. like, he's showing kids that dying on the job, its a tragedy sure, but its normal. its fact of life. my country is an imperialized nation so they never try to lie about whats the purpose of our education. we are here to prepare for work, not to learn. and from the beginning, the oil and mining industry doesnt care about human life. and im thinking of the shares and stocks where all of those profits fueled by death eventually finds itself, in the pockets of men who might never see the inside of a oil tank. or where all the oils and minerals are heading, as i sit here waiting in a queue on the gas station to fill my motorbike even though there's an oil and coal processing site just a few hundred kilometers away still in border of my hometown.

worst part is i know this isnt the worst because someone out there who might even be younger than me is dying for the gasoline im getting, the circuit boards inside my phone, and i know one of my friends online is sleeping inside a car while office buildings and billboards stay lit and functional every day of the year fueled and powered by unimaginable amount of normalized deaths.

and im also thinking of the oil spills at the beach, the days that gets hotter and hotter every year. last year there was a gruesome car accident. an oil truck swerved off the sidewalk and killed a dozen people. its not the only major first accident in that place, as always the old complaints about public safety and roads came back for a while, and they might be satisfied that there's a barricade and a rule for large trucks not being allowed to be on the road during the day, but im also thinking of my friend who worked in the industry as a safety operator, complaining that half of the trucks are overdue for maintenance for years and the drivers license have expired but no one ever did anything about it because theyre on a constant deadline and spending time to do checks only makes the managers yell at you for missing a quota and you had to stay longer instead of getting some sleep or spending time with family, in a job where you already work 12 hours a day on average.

my point is, its all connected. just simply asking where the gas powering your car came from revealed a lot. i know this is retreading the basics but i think its good to remember how interconnected everything is. how the tragedies and genocides and social murders arent an aberration but a logical conclusion of the way society is organized. its a well oiled machine, excuse my pun. its all-encompassing, but seeing it as it is makes it easier to find its weak spot, areas where we can fight. this is why im a communist, specifically a marxist leninist, i do think workers' revolt with international proletariat society is the only way we could break free.

but anyway, all this is to brag about how i never learn geography in highschool and yet i can still name more countries and capitals than the average college student in the us so (⁠＾⁠3⁠＾). also now that i mention it i also never learn biology but i know more about the human body than your average terf so 😌 shitty schools is not an excuse 💖

[mischief-lies-and-stories]

My Nearly 7-Hour-Long Loki Playlist

I have over 100 songs on a playlist for Loki. I use Apple Music, and I would recreate and link a Spotify playlist, but the account is linked to my Facebook and I don’t want to reveal my full name so I’m not going to do that. All of these songs should probably be able to be found on Spotify, though. I pulled inspiration for this playlist from many versions of Loki from the comics, movies, show, and my fanfic characterizations, as well as the various ships I include him in (post on these forthcoming). This post will be quite long given how many songs I have on this playlist, but I will try to restrict my explanation for including the song to a few words about the pairing or version of Loki the song calls to mind or some specific lyrics that made me think of him. Also some brief spoilers for some of my fics. 

“Next to Me”, Imagine Dragons: How Loki views his relationship (brotherly or romantic, you choose) with Thor.

“Two Hands,” Passenger: Post-Infinity War Loki to Thor (again, you can decide type of relationship), includes the line “Our sun is all but set,” which I titled one of my Infinity War fix-it fics as a callback to Loki’s words, “The sun will shine on us again.”

“Timber and Coal,” Passenger: soft FrostIron

“Thunder,” Imagine Dragons: Thor

“Immigrant Song,” Led Zeppelin: essentially the Thor: Ragnarok theme song

“Thunder,” Passenger: Thor

“I’ll Keep You Safe,” Sleeping at Last: Thor and Loki (The line, “Your darkness will be rewritten/Into a work of fiction” feels very Thor reassuring Loki that he can change.)

“All Through the Night,” Sleeping at Last: title of part one of my FrostIron series, Nights on the Roof

“Saturn,” Sleeping at Last: Canonically, Loki mourning Frigga. Or Loki mourning Thor in part 2 of my Visions Made of Flesh and Light series, written just after the first trailer for Infinity War, before we knew Loki dies but saw Thor floating unconscious in space.

“Pompeii,” Bastille: This is mostly from the repeated line “How am I gonna be an optimist about this?” Either my point of view, because I added this right after Endgame, when Loki bit it in Infinity War and didn’t come back. Or the series finale of Loki, after everything goes to shit. 

“Icarus,” Bastille: Loki: Agent of Asgard angst of Loki burning. (They talk about this a lot and I put that into fics a lot because it’s such angsty imagery.)

“Devil’s Backbone,” The Civil Wars: Some of these songs are my opinion on Loki.

“Glory and Gore,” Lorde: I think I found this on a different Loki playlist. It just fits him.

“Poison and Wine,” The Civil Wars: Thorki

“The Last of the Real Ones,” Fall Out Boy: FrostIron

“I’ll Be Good,” Jaymes Young: Loki: Agent of Asgard (and also Journey into Mystery)

“After the Storm,” Mumford and Sons: More Loki: Agent of Asgard angst. Just this Sisyphian struggle he constantly has of trying to be good and do the right thing and rewrite who he is, and then either self-sabotaging or falling back into the box other people have made for him. 

“Thistle and Weeds,” Mumford and Sons: More angst. Sometimes when I hear angst, I just think Loki.

“Gale Song,” The Lumineers: “It’s a lonely road for the tired man.” My AoA boi again.

“Long Way Home,” The Lumineers: My guess is this was also inspired by the Visions Made of Flesh and Light series.

“Gun Song,” The Lumineers: Mostly for the line “One day I pray I’ll be more than my father’s son.”

“White Lie,” The Lumineers: God of Lies

“Nobody Knows,” The Lumineers: Every year at the camp I go to, we hold a memorial for those that passed away that year, and every year on the slideshow of their pictures they play this song. So this song is just forever seared into my brain as a mourning song. At this point in playlist creation, Endgame is out but Loki is not, so Loki is still super dead and I’m mad about it. 

“Second Child, Restless Child,” The Oh Hellos: Loki to a goddamn T.

“Like the Dawn,” The Oh Hellos: Thorki, hence my fic Like the Dawn.

“Her Sweet Kiss,” from The Witcher: Either Mobius about Sylvie and Loki or Theo about Amora and Loki, it could go either way. 

“In Case You Don’t Live Forever,” Ben Platt: Thorki or FrostIron

“Kiss Quick,” Matt Nathanson: FrostIron, if I remember correctly.

“Ghost Town,” First Aid Kit: Thorki (“But I’ll come back to you someday.”)

“Golden Leaves,” Passenger: Thorki (“Do you remember how this first begun?/ Teeth were white and our skin was young.”)

“I Was Wrong,” The Oh Hellos: Loki showing remorse and trying to be a better person. 

“Temporary Love,” Ben Platt: FrostIron (Specifically Nights on the Roof FrostIron)

“Cedar Lane,” First Aid Kit: Thorki 

“If I Walk Away,” Josh Groban: Thorki

“Wait For Me,” from Hadestown: I think this was either Phantom Limb, which is my Theo/Loki fanfiction that links Where Mischief Lies to the rest of the MCU. Or I also had a FrostIron idea that didn’t go anywhere that I was temporarily calling Valhalla Heist, where Loki and Tony break out of Valhalla and fall in love along the way, so like kind of Orpheus and Eurydice a little bit. And then also the similarities between this song and “Where you go, I go,” which is the recurring vow FrostIron makes in the Nights on the Roof series. 

“My Fault,” Imagine Dragons: Loki’s guilt and angst

“Bitter Water,” The Oh Hellos: “I know I shouldn’t love you, but I do.” Thorki, because incest.

“Before You Go,” Lewis Capaldi: “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, but I was just kidding myself.” Enemies-to-Lovers. And more specifically, Thorki during Loki’s death in Infinity War, “Before you go,/ Was there something I could have said to make it all stop hurting?”

“River,” Sam Smith: Angst

“Keeping Your Head Up,” Birdy: FrostIron (Specifically Nights on the Roof, as usual)

“King of the World,” First Aid Kit: Loki’s motivation through most of his history.

“Scars,” James Bay: That point in Ragnarok when Thor and Loki part ways on Sakaar, but then Loki follows him to Asgard because they love each other (again, brotherly or romantic, doesn’t matter, it fits for either). 

“Heirloom,” Sleeping at Last: The angst of having to deal with a dad like Odin, who’s a frickin’ dick. “You are so much more than your father’s son/You are so much more than what I’ve become.”

“Sandstorm,” Passenger: “Lover, oh my lover/I know I’m not easy to understand/Cover, darling take cover/For I am the sandstorm/And you are the sand.” Angsty FrostIron

“Bad Habit,” Ben Platt: Thorki

“C’est La Mort,” The Civil Wars: “Say your good-byes, but darling if you please/don’t go without me.” This is some Thor crying over Loki’s body as the ship explodes around him type of angst.

“I’m With You,” Vance Joy: FrostIron

“How Long Will I Love You,” Ellie Golding: Thorki

“I Won’t Give Up,” Jason Mraz: FrostIron

“I Never Told You,” Colbie Caillat: Thorki

“North,” Sleeping at Last: I feel like this relates to all of my ships, always, ever. It’s one of my favorite songs. But this is where the title for my FrostIron wedding fic comes from, Give Us Bread, Give Us Salt, Give Us Wine. It just has wedding vibes. 

“Achilles Come Down,” Gang of Youths: Icarus-like burning vibes. Avengers-era MCU Loki or AoA Loki

“Chemicals,” Dean Lewis: Thorki

“Remember When It Rained,” Josh Groban: Thorki angst, especially with the rain imagery and Thor being the god of thunder.

“Left Behind,” from Spring Awakening: Thor mourning Loki. (And also sometimes I play around with killing off Tony. It’s never going to be canon in my FrostIron series, but I play around with hurting Loki sometimes.)

“Very Full,” Tom Hiddleston: I love this song. It’s the song he sings in Asgardian (Norwegian) on Lamentis in Loki. I wish we had the rest of the song; it’s so good.

“Everything,” Michael Buble: Thorki

“Eavesdrop,” The Civil Wars: Either FrostIron in the most recent part of my series (part 6), or Lokius once they reunite after the events that happened in the season finale. Because it starts, “I don’t want to talk right now/I just want your arms wrapped around me in this moment.”

“Hold My Girl,” George Ezra: Don’t mind me, just pretending to serenade Sylvie. 

“Jump For My Love” and “Fire,” The Pointer Sisters; and “Jupiter”, from The Planets, by Gustav Holst: A while back, Tom Hiddleston did like an AMA or whatever with Tumblr. I didn’t watch it, I don’t know how you watch them, and I don’t care. But Tumblr is Tumblr, so they do “ads” where they make you see some of it. And one of the things he was asked was, “What is some music you think Loki would listen to?” And he said that Loki would either listen to something classical with like a redemptive arc, like “Jupiter” from The Planets, or he would listen to disco dance music like The Pointer Sisters (of which I grabbed “Jump For My Love” and “Fire” because I didn’t feel like listening to their entire discography). And he was right! I don’t know how he was right; it seems very unlikely that these songs fit, but he’s 100% right, and it’s insane how right he was. And “Jupiter” makes me cry every time. There’s no words, it’s completely classical, and I cry every time. Because he’s right, it’s Loki’s arc in music form, and it makes me cry.

“All I’ve Ever Known,” from Hadestown: “I was alone so long/I didn’t even know that I was lonely.” Lokius

“Hymn for N,” The Cottars: Sylvie

“Lokius,” Natalie Holt: The score from Loki. 

“She Used to Be Mine,” from Waitress: Oh my God, this song is so Sylvie, it’s crazy. This song also makes me cry, because I love Sylvie and she’s perfect and this song breaks my fucking heart.

“A Long Time Ago,” First Aid Kit: Thorki

“Shotgun,” George Ezra: This song has nothing to do with anything, EXCEPT for two lyrics that make me think of my friends in the Void. And they are: “Home-grown alligator” and “time flies in the yellow and green.”

“Send Me a River,” The Cottars: Sylvie

“RAIN,” Ben Platt: Lokius

“For the Dancing and the Dreaming,” from How to Train Your Dragon 2: I’ve decided that this is a song they sing on Asgard. I wrote a ficlet (that I haven’t posted anywhere yet) of Loki from my FrostIron series singing this in Asgardian (Norwegian) to Tony. 

“Vargsangen,” Johanna Grussner: This is a Scandinavian lullaby (I think) about wolves (if I remember correctly). I was trying to find a song for Loki to sing and this is one of the songs I found that I liked, but ultimately went with the above song for the ficlet instead.

“Light,” Sleeping at Last: Thorki (“May these words be the first to find your ears/The world is brighter than the sun, now that you’re here.” The sun will shine on us again, essentially.)

“The One,” Kodaline: Lokius, namely from Choose Me. 

“Dark Moon,” Bonnie Guitar and “If You Love Me (Really Love Me),” Brenda Lee: two songs played in Loki.

“Don’t Go Breakin’ My Heart,” from Ella Enchanted (I know this is a cover, but this is the one on the playlist): FrostIron

“Paradise,” George Ezra: Lokius

“So Will I,” Ben Platt: FrostIron, namely Nights on the Roof

“Love Will Find a Way,” from Lion King 2: Either FrostIron during part 6 of Nights on the Roof or Lokius after the season finale of Loki.

“I’m Still Here,” from Treasure Planet: AoA Loki and Loki (“And how can the world want me to change?/ They’re the ones that stay the same.” “They can’t tell me who to be/ ‘Cause I’m not what they see.”)

“Won’t Look Back,” Josh Groban: Nights on the Roof FrostIron

“Where Do I Go From Here?” from Pocahontas 2: AoA Loki and Loki

“If I Say I Love You,” Mumford and Sons: Lokius

“Ten Thousand Miles,” Altan: Thorki, especially Loki trying to get back to Thor after being killed by Thanos

“You Are Enough,” Sleeping At Last: Lokius, a la “You can be whoever, whatever you wanna be, even someone good. Just in case anyone ever told you any different.” Could also be me, slapping the shit out of Loki, being like “Get your head out of your ass. You are worthy.”

“Carry You,” The Native Sibling: Lokius

“Half a Man,” Dean Lewis: angst

“Overcome,” from Cyrano: Thorki, probably

“Break My Heart Again,” Finneas: Anything angsty is Loki related

“All These Things That I’ve Done,” The Killers: “Last call for sin/While everyone’s lost, the battle is won/With all these things that I’ve done.” More angst, honestly.

“Sweet Child O’ Mine,” Guns N’ Roses: He’s not even in this movie, and I’m so mad about it, but the theme song for Thor: Love and Thunder.

“Ain’t No Rest For The Wicked,” Cage the Elephant: Again, another song I found on another Loki playlist, but very Loki.

“True Love,” P!nk: Okay, listen. This is exactly how I feel about Loki. “Sometimes I hate every stupid word you say/ Sometimes I wanna slap you in your whole face/ There’s no one quite like you/ You push all my buttons down/ I know life would suck without you./ At the same time I wanna hug you/ I wanna wrap my hands around your neck/ You’re an asshole, but I love you/ You make me so mad I ask myself/ Why I’m still here, oh, where could I go/ You’re the only love I’ve ever known/ But I hate you, I really hate you/ So much I think it must be true love.” All of the lyrics are relevant. Loki is a dick and I love him. 

“Come What May,” from Moulin Rouge: “Never knew I could feel like this/ Like I’ve never seen the sky before/ I want to vanish inside your kiss/ Everyday I love you more and more.” Is it thorki? Yes. Is it FrostIron? Yes. Is it lokius? Yes. Is it Cloudki? Probably. (If you don’t recognize that one, stay tuned; I’m planning a ships post soon.)

“Rat A Tat,” Fall Out Boy: Just Loki vibes. Also, “If my love is a weapon.” Love is a dagger, anyone?

“Victorious,” Panic! At the Disco: Vibes again, I think, sorry.

“After the Gold Rush,” k.d. lang: I think the last verse was giving me Ragnarok and beginning of Infinity War vibes.

“I Was an Island,” John-Allison Weiss: Lokius or FrostIron

“Allies or Enemies,” The Crane Wives: Thorki 

“Easier,” The Crane Wives: Loki at the end of Defenders: Beyond (It’s a very long explanation, I would just say to read Al Ewing’s Loki arc, AoA and DB and then you’ll get why this fits at the end.)

“October,” The Crane Wives: Lokius

“Let Me Fall,” Josh Groban: End of AoA Loki in his moment of Ego-Death (“Someone I am is waiting for courage/The one I want, the one I will become will catch me.” “Though the phoenix may or may not rise.”)

“Caleb Trask,” The Crane Wives: “So you’ve got bad in your blood/ Brother, you’re one of us/ So you’ve got bad in your blood/ How long you gonna wait for those azaleas to bud?” Just Loki.

“I Am My Own Muse,” Fall Out Boy: Loki vibes, and also the line, “Let’s twist the knife again.” Love is a dagger.

“Beloved,” Mumford and Sons: Lokius

“All Things Shall Be Peace,” from Were the World Mine: “Take comfort, he no more shall see my face/Whom I do love and will do till my death.” Lokius from Loki’s perspective in the finale (though I think we’re going to get the original Mobius back very soon).

“Unwritten,” Natasha Beddingfield: Sylvie just killed He Who Remains, and the Sacred Timeline has gone up to a point. And now what happens beyond it is anyone’s guess. “The rest is still unwritten.”

[wispy-ispy]

Check tags for TWs - An Attempt at Poetry

Wind whipping through what’s left of your hair

You walk the same path day in and out

You see the same sights, familiar as they are trivial

You wonder, deep down, if something would happen

If one minor change could occur

Enough to get you out of this deep trance

Cocooned in the foggy recesses of your subconscious

Your body moves itself, muscles working independently of thought

Its language rigid and formulaic

Along the road of slush and snow, mud and salt

There along the path it gleams how dry you’ve felt

Calls of beckoning line the corners of your view

Where sharp drops and great heights exist

Tangibly avoidable but within your grasp nonetheless

It would take little effort to go down

And who would look for you? Who would crack first?

Their faces flash like a slideshow

A presentation just as familiar as the street ahead

Turning corners, stepping off curbs, navigating parking lots

Second nature, mindless

Careless

If only you let your mind slip just far enough

And for just long enough

For that one distracted driver to turn at just the right moment

Long enough to see it flash

Quick enough to barely feel it

Out of your control- a happening of fate

Oh, to take that sorrowed stance

Let nature run its course

Hollowed out- you’re barely there- they never notice

Your steps carry you to your destination

That moment never comes, it lingers in your mind

What’s stopping you from going home

Or running, and never looking back

They strapped you down with concrete blocks and thought that you would swim

The moment you start drowning they lift them back up

Every few moments, just to drop them down again

Your lungs are filling with water

You’ll make it long enough to see the sun set

A starry sky looms dark and cold

Unforgiving as it washes the tide over your shivering body

If you can manage to claw your way back up

It’ll only crash back down upon your neck

What use is there to fight when the goal is unachievable

You’ll stay, barely holding your head above water

Rotting inside your hamster wheel

Spinning, endlessly, until nothing’s left

Then you’ll slip once more into the haze and mist of a mind

Repeating the cycle once again.

[speedylinemarking]

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[fighting-these-demons]

So when my migraine hit last night I decided on a whim to try watching more Yowamushi Pedal before sleeping

I got through S4E2 which was where I was stuck.

----------------

Continued Liveblogging

This is a liveblog of Yowamushi Pedal New Generation (seasons 3 - 5). I'm reacting to the show so there will obviously be spoilers.

---------------------

Then I grit my teeth through Midousuji and Blue Predator's bullshit.

Wow Naruko idk why you've chosen Big Homo Energy to try to trip Midosuji up but it's definitely going to backfire on you.

Also of course he says the shit he can't seem to say to Onoda out loud but as a brag when he's in the middle of a road fight with the guy he currently hates most.

Then I cringed so hard and kept repeating "I Hate It Here." While laughing during the slideshow for the Narousuji AU. Although I have to say Naruko would have looked Great in Kyoto Fushimi's uniform.

The little heart stickers on their bikes really took me out.

Sakamichi getting so hyped because his Senpai that he has a Visible-From-Space crush on is somehow there at the Inter High a whole planet away.

I feel so bad for Naruko about Day 1 but of course he's handling it like a champ! 💪Love him so much! Short King!!!

I think it must be the competition aspect of Sports Anime because I'm very stuck in my main ships. I can see how other ships are shipped and see their merit and setup and significance in the story.... but my OTPs Have To Win. They have to.

I say that to say that every time Manami comes on screen I'm repeating the SpongeBob quote "OH BROTHER!!! THIS GUY STINKS!!!!!"

He's nice enough and even though he's self centered he does like Sakamichi and they pair up well.

But I hate every time he's shoved in here. Of course Sakamichi's mom loves him and gives him a Best Boy hat that matches with her son and his team. Of course she does. 🤦‍♀️🙄

I get it. He's the oblivious to his feelings and nearly ambivalent cool guy thats oh so chaseable. And he's pretty and he sells well and he rescued Sakamichi that time and they became friends despite being on opposing teams. Star crossed lovers stuff. I get it.

But like. Uhg. I just don't trust him. He's got an undercurent I'm not fond of.

Idk man. At least the animators and people that came up with the openings and endings are on my side. Narukonodo is the ship!!!!!

That bit about Ashikiba seeing seaweed in his bowl and being forlorn about his lost love Teshima had me so sad and feeling for him and Yuki who both lost the guys they were in love with to someone else... although they lost the flip side of the other's loss.

Ashikiba lost his charismatic leader in Teshima and Yuki lost his sincere and loyal follower in Izumida.

So they kind of ended up together in a sweet and strange way and for a moment I was pondering on that and Yuki's determined devotion to his team - to Izumida who is his new captain and now the leader between them - and to Ashikiba to get him to the finish line... especially with Ashikiba and Izumida's combined focus on making sure that he can race the next day by making sure he soaks up to his shoulder injuries.

And Then Day 2 Happened

First of all let me say that it must have been HEART WRENCHING for Imaizumi (who's still sort of clinging onto his crush on Sakamichi during this race but definitely coming to terms with his blossoming feelings for Terufumi at the same time) and Naruko when all of the Spider Stuff that Sakamichi had been sharing with Makishiba spills out of his bag the day after Sakamichi's Moving Speech and Big Feelings about doing their best and winning Day Two so that they can see Their Senpais and Sakamichi insists that THEY HELP HIM RELAX AND SLEEP.

Ouch!!! They've gotta be mentally blocking that out. Especially since I'm sure they overhear Sakamichi's convo with the younger Shinkai.

Also I bet Shinkai the Younger made that nickname up for himself purely based off of Sakamichi saying he wished he had an insect related nickname to be more like his Beloved Senpai Makishiba because I've literally never heard anyone refer to Shinkai the Younger that way up to this point. Also hornets are Yellow Black and Red which are Sohoku's school colors so clearly he thought of a good nickname for Sakamichi on the spot and then stole it.

He's trying to get into Sakamichis head but I don't think he realizes that it might work but it'll work backwards before it reaches his desired endpoint.

Also I think part of it is Jealousy that Sakamichi is so baby girl and he basically is an anime girl which Shinkai said he wanted to be and said was the reason he's always wearing that magical girl mask.

NOW BACK TO THE TRAGEDY

So I was like dang that scene with the soup really shows how much it sucks for Ashikiba with Teshima having moved on and being so devoted to Aoyagi now... but it's also sort of sweet because now people have something to build a ship with between Yuki and Akishiba that would be good for both of them... BUT THEN.

THEN THEY TORE IT ALL AWAY FROM US

JESUS!!! A BREAKUP DURING THE RACE?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

GOD THATS SO AWFUL!!!! AND THE FACT THAT AOYAGI DOESN'T SEE IT THAT WAY BUT TESHIMA ABSOLUTELY DOES!!!!

HE SEES IT AS AOYAGI ABANDONING HIM AT THE VERY CLIMAX OF EVERYTHING THEY'VE BEEN STRIVING TOGETHER FOR THESE THREE YEARS TOGETHER AND I JUST!!!!

AAAAAAAUUUUUUUGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

THEIR BREAKUP SPEECH AND HOLDING HANDS WITH THEIR CERTAIN VICTORY GLOVES AND SAYING THEY WOULDN'T HAVE GOTTEN HERE WITHOUT EACH OTHER

AND AOYAGI BRINGING UP AN 8TH REASON NOT TO GO BUT FRAMING IT AS HOPE TO CATCH UP SOMEHOW

AND TESHIMA'S FRONT OF STRENGTH BREAKING FOR A MOMENT BUT WITH SURPRISE AND A LAUGH AND A SMILE BECAUSE HE REALIZES THEN THAT AOYAGI DOESNT KNOW JUST HOW MUCH HE'S BROKEN HIS HEART!!!!!!!

I WAS ROOTING FOR AKISHIBA BUT NOT THIS WAY!!!!!! GODDAMN!!!!!

HE NEVER LET GO OF TESHIMA AND DIDNT SEEK TO FORGE ANYTHING NEW WITH SOMEONE AT HAKONE - WHY ARE THEY MAKING THIS AOYAGI'S PROBLEM?!?!?!?!?!?!

AAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

damn I feel for Akishiba though like It's hard holding onto a lost love and like I hope he gets his moment with Teshima during this second day so he can let go and move on but I ALSO hope against all odds that somehow Aoyagi makes it back to them like Sakamichi did the year before and that he and Teshima can cross the finish line together side by side after pushing their kohai forward to victory! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[reallygroovyninja2]

Blurred Lines Part 3 - 4083 Words

Lexa stood frozen in her small, dimly lit bathroom, her eyes fixated on the object that lay on the edge of the sink. In her trembling hand, she held a pregnancy test, its result glaring back at her with an undeniable positivity. The two pink lines seemed almost surreal, as if they belonged to someone else's story, not hers. Her heart pounded in her chest, a mixture of fear, disbelief, and a strange sense of wonder. 

She blinked, hoping that when she opened her eyes again, the reality in front of her might change. But the pink lines remained, unwavering in their message. Lexa's breath hitched. This couldn't be. She needed to be sure, absolutely sure. With a shaky hand, she reached for a second test that she had bought 'just in case'. Her fingers fumbled as she unwrapped it, the plastic crinkling loudly in the silent room. 

As she went through the motions, her mind raced with a thousand thoughts. What would this mean for her life, her plans, her future? How would this change everything? The seconds stretched into what felt like hours as she waited for the second test to reveal its verdict. 

Finally, she looked down. There it was, again, the same unwavering, undeniable double pink lines. Positive. Lexa's knees felt weak. She leaned against the sink for support, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. Disbelief, fear, excitement, anxiety - all mingled into a chaotic symphony. 

The reality of her situation was beginning to sink in. She was pregnant. Her life was about to change in the most profound way possible, and all she could do at that moment was stare at the confirmation in her hands, her future unfolding in those two little pink lines. 

As Lexa leaned against the cool surface of the sink, her mind instinctively drifted to Clarke. Clarke, with her fierce spirit and compassionate heart, who had become an integral part of Lexa's life. The thought of Clarke brought a tumult of emotions, each wave crashing over her with increasing intensity. 

How would Clarke react to the news of being a parent? Lexa could almost picture her, those vivid blue eyes wide with surprise, maybe fear, maybe joy. Clarke had never explicitly talked about wanting children, but she had always been wonderful with them. Her kindness, strength, and resilience would make her an incredible parent, Lexa thought. But did Clarke see herself in that role now, at this stage of their lives? 

Lexa's heart ached with uncertainty. Their relationship had been a journey of learning and growing together, but this... this was uncharted territory. Would Clarke still want her? Would this unexpected turn of events bring them closer or drive a wedge between them? 

Clarke was independent and headstrong, qualities Lexa admired deeply. But introducing a child into their dynamic could change everything. Would Clarke see this as an opportunity to grow together, to build something even more meaningful? Or would she feel trapped, unready for such a monumental shift in their lives? 

Lexa knew Clarke's love was strong, but she also knew that love sometimes wasn't enough to bridge every gap, to smooth over every unexpected turn in the road. The weight of this revelation, the enormity of its implications, felt overwhelming. Lexa longed to reach out to Clarke, to share this moment, to face the uncertainty together. 

But first, she needed to gather her own thoughts, to steady her own heart. She needed to be strong, not just for herself, but for Clarke, and for the tiny new life that was growing inside her. With a deep breath, Lexa straightened up, determination settling in her bones.  

In the solitude of the bathroom, Lexa's mind raced through a myriad of scenarios, each path branching out with its own set of challenges and uncertainties. Adoption, co-parenting, single parenthood—each option flickered through her thoughts like a slideshow of possible futures. Yet, amidst this whirlwind of considerations, a deep, unwavering conviction anchored itself in her heart. No matter the path ahead, she knew she wanted to keep this child. 

The realization was both terrifying and exhilarating. Lexa had always prided herself on her strength and independence, qualities that had steered her through many of life's storms. But this was different. This was a responsibility that went beyond her own self, a commitment that would shape the rest of her life in ways she couldn't fully anticipate. The gravity of it all made her feel both small and infinitely powerful at the same time. 

She thought about her own upbringing, the lessons learned, the love received, and the hardships endured. Could she provide the same strength and care to her child? The prospect was daunting, but as she let the idea settle within her, a sense of purpose began to take root. This child, a tiny beacon of new life, was hers to protect and cherish. 

Lexa's thoughts turned towards the future—sleepless nights, first words, first steps, school days, scraped knees, and bedtime stories. Each imagined milestone filled her with a sense of wonder and determination. Yes, there would be challenges, and yes, she would need to adapt and learn, but the journey, she felt, would be worth every step. 

Deep down, she knew her decision would shape not just her own future, but Clarke's as well. Their relationship would inevitably be tested, transformed in ways they couldn't foresee. But Lexa's resolve was clear. She would embrace this new chapter with all the love and strength she possessed, ready to face whatever may come, for the sake of the tiny life that had chosen her to be its mother. 

Lexa stood outside Clarke's apartment, her heart pounding in her chest. The cool metal of the door felt heavy under her touch, a tangible reminder of the gravity of the conversation that awaited. She took a deep breath, steadying herself, and knocked on the door. 

Moments later, the door swung open, revealing Clarke. Her eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Lexa standing there, an expression of unspoken questions already forming on her face. "Lexa? What's up? Is everything okay?" Clarke's voice was tinged with concern. 

Lexa managed a small, nervous smile. "Can I come in? We need to talk," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. There was a weight to her words, a seriousness that Clarke immediately picked up on. 

Clarke's eyebrows knit together in worry, but she stepped aside, gesturing for Lexa to enter. "Of course, come in." 

They moved into the living room, a familiar space where they had shared countless conversations and laughter. Now, the room felt charged with a different energy, one of apprehension and uncertainty. They sat down on the couch, a small distance between them. Clarke turned to face Lexa, her blue eyes searching. 

"Lexa, you're scaring me. What's going on?" Clarke's voice was laced with concern, her usual composure slightly ruffled by the seriousness of Lexa's demeanor. 

Lexa took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. This moment felt like a precipice, the words she was about to say poised to change everything. She looked into Clarke's eyes, finding a well of strength in the depth of their connection. 

"Clarke, I have something important to tell you. It's about us, about our future," Lexa began, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. She reached out, her hand seeking Clarke's, a silent plea for understanding and support as she prepared to reveal the truth that would alter the course of their lives forever. 

Lexa's throat felt tight as she tried to find the words. The enormity of what she needed to convey loomed large in her mind, and for a moment, the words simply wouldn't come. She looked down at their joined hands, Clarke's grip warm and reassuring. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes of the trust and bond they shared. 

Clarke noticed Lexa's hesitation, the struggle evident in her eyes. In response, she gently squeezed Lexa's hand, a silent show of support and solidarity. "Whatever it is, Lexa, you can tell me. We'll figure it out together," Clarke said softly, her voice infused with warmth and understanding. 

This simple act of kindness and assurance was like a balm to Lexa's frayed nerves. She drew in a deep, steadying breath, feeling a surge of gratitude for the woman beside her. Clarke had become her rock, her safe harbor in the midst of life's storms, and now, more than ever, Lexa needed that strength. 

Raising her head to meet Clarke's gaze, Lexa found a well of courage she hadn't known she possessed. "Clarke, I'm...," she started, her voice trembling slightly. The next words felt like both a confession and a revelation, a turning point that would define their future. 

"Clarke, I'm pregnant," she finally managed, the words hanging in the air between them like a delicate, unbreakable thread. Lexa watched Clarke carefully, trying to gauge her reaction, her own heart pounding in her chest. This was it, the moment of truth, and all she could do now was wait for Clarke's response, hoping beyond hope that their bond was strong enough to weather this new and unexpected journey. 

As Lexa uttered those life-altering words, she watched a myriad of emotions cascade across Clarke's face, each one etching a fleeting story of its own. Initially, there was shock, a wide-eyed disbelief that made Clarke look almost childlike in her astonishment. Her mouth parted slightly, as if words had decided to abandon her at this crucial moment. 

Then came the confusion, a furrowing of her brows, a slight tilt of her head as she processed the weight of Lexa's words. Clarke's eyes darted from Lexa's eyes to their intertwined hands and back again, as if seeking an anchor in this sea of unexpected news. 

Following confusion was a flicker of fear, a vulnerability that Clarke seldom showed. It was a raw, human emotion that spoke volumes of the uncertainties and the enormity of the responsibility that the news implied. Lexa could see the wheels turning in Clarke's mind, contemplating the vastness of the change that was upon them. 

But as quickly as it appeared, the fear gave way to a gentle understanding, a softening around Clarke's eyes, a relaxation of her shoulders. It was as if Clarke was mentally stepping into the idea, accommodating it within her realm of possibilities. 

Finally, there was a hesitant acceptance, a dawning realization that this was real, that their lives were about to transform in the most profound way. Clarke's hand tightened around Lexa's, a non-verbal affirmation that she was there, present and processing. 

Throughout this silent symphony of emotions, Lexa remained still, a statue of anticipation, watching the woman she loved grapple with a reality that had blindsided them both. She understood that Clarke needed this moment to navigate her feelings, to come to terms with the news that was reshaping their future. Lexa waited, her heart a mix of hope and apprehension, ready to face whatever came next, together. 

Clarke's initial wave of emotions settled into a calm, steady resolve. She looked directly into Lexa's eyes, her gaze clear and unwavering. There was no question in her voice, no doubt about the veracity of Lexa's revelation or its implications. Clarke understood the gravity of the situation and accepted it without hesitation. 

"Lexa," Clarke began, her voice firm yet filled with warmth, "I'm here for you, in whatever way you need me to be. This is happening, and we'll face it together." Her words were like a solid foundation in the midst of a storm, providing a sense of stability and assurance. 

Clarke shifted closer, her hand still holding Lexa's, conveying a strength that was both comforting and empowering. "Tell me what you need," she continued, "whether it's space to think, someone to talk to, or just someone to sit with in silence. I'm here, and I'll support you with any decision you make." 

Her commitment was evident, her willingness to stand by Lexa unwavering. It was a testament to the depth of their relationship, to the understanding and respect that had grown between them over time. Clarke's readiness to be a pillar of support, regardless of her own fears and uncertainties, spoke volumes of her character and her love for Lexa. 

Lexa felt a surge of emotions at Clarke's words - relief, gratitude, and an overwhelming sense of love. In that moment, she realized the true strength of their bond, a connection that could weather the most unexpected of storms. Clarke's acceptance and support were the anchors she needed to face the myriad of choices and challenges ahead. 

With Clarke's hand in hers, Lexa felt a renewed sense of courage and hope. Whatever decisions lay ahead, whatever path they chose to take, they would navigate it together, as partners, as equals. The journey would not be easy, but with Clarke by her side, Lexa knew they could face anything. 

Clarke reached out, enveloping Lexa in a warm, secure embrace. It was a simple gesture, yet it held within it the entirety of Clarke's support and love. Lexa, usually so composed and strong, felt the walls she had built around her emotions begin to crumble under the weight of Clarke's acceptance and care. 

As Clarke held her, Lexa allowed herself to be vulnerable, to let the façade of unwavering strength fall away. She rested her head against Clarke's shoulder, her body trembling slightly as a tide of emotions she had been holding back began to surface. Tears, unbidden, welled up in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks, each one a release of the fear, anxiety, and overwhelming sense of responsibility she had been carrying since she found out about the pregnancy. 

Clarke's arms tightened around her, a silent reassurance that she was not alone in this. Lexa's breath hitched in her throat as she clung to Clarke, her heart aching with a mixture of relief and gratitude. In Clarke's embrace, she found a haven, a safe space where she could let go, even if just for a moment. 

Clarke, sensing Lexa's need to unburden her heart, simply held her, offering her presence as a source of comfort and stability. She stroked Lexa's hair gently, a soothing rhythm that helped calm the storm of emotions raging inside Lexa. 

In this quiet, intimate space, with the warmth of Clarke's arms around her, Lexa felt a sense of peace amidst the chaos of her thoughts. It was a reminder that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together. Clarke's hug was more than just a physical embrace; it was a symbol of their unspoken commitment to support and care for each other through whatever the future held. 

For Lexa, the act of being held, of allowing herself to be supported, was both an act of surrender and an act of strength. It was a testament to the trust and love she had for Clarke, a bond that had only deepened in the face of adversity. In Clarke's arms, Lexa found the courage to face the unknown, fortified by the knowledge that she was no longer facing it alone. 

Lexa lay in her bed, the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through her curtains, casting gentle shadows across the room. Her mind replayed the events of the evening, lingering on the moment when Clarke had tried to persuade her to stay the night. There was a tenderness in Clarke's eyes, a silent plea that spoke of a desire to not be apart, especially after such an emotional revelation. 

"Stay with me tonight," Clarke had said, her voice a soft mixture of longing and understanding. It was clear in her gentle insistence that she wanted to provide comfort, to be there for Lexa in any way she could. 

But Lexa, despite every part of her yearning to stay, knew she had responsibilities waiting for her the next day. Work commitments that, though mundane in the grand scheme of things, couldn't be ignored. "I have to work tomorrow, Clarke," she had responded, her voice tinged with regret. "I wish I could stay." 

There was a moment of disappointment in Clarke's eyes, a brief flicker of sadness that they would have to part, even for just a night. But it quickly gave way to understanding, a testament to the depth of Clarke's empathy and respect for Lexa's sense of duty. 

"I understand," Clarke had replied, her hand reaching out to squeeze Lexa's gently. "Just know that you're not alone in this, okay? I'm here, whenever you need me." 

Now, as Lexa lay in the quiet of her own space, she couldn't help but feel a pang of longing for Clarke's presence. The bed felt too large, too empty without her. She missed the warmth of Clarke's body next to hers, the comforting rhythm of her breathing, the sense of peace that always enveloped her when they were together. 

Closing her eyes, Lexa took a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions swirling inside her. Despite the physical distance between them at that moment, Clarke's support and love enveloped her like a warm blanket, offering a sense of solace and strength. No matter what the future held, she knew one thing for certain: she would face it with all the love and strength she possessed, for Clarke and for their child.     

Tomorrow was another day, filled with its own challenges and routines, but Lexa felt a renewed sense of determination. No matter what the day would bring, she carried within her the knowledge that Clarke was there for her, a steadfast presence in the journey that lay ahead. And with that thought, Lexa allowed herself to drift towards sleep, her heart a little lighter, her spirit a little stronger. 

The next morning, Lexa awoke to the soft chime of her phone, signaling incoming messages. She reached for it, still half-ensconced in the warmth of her bed. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she unlocked the screen and saw a series of texts from Clarke. Each message seemed to carry a wave of care and concern, making Lexa's heart swell with a mix of emotions. 

The first few texts were simple check-ins, Clarke's words infused with warmth and attentiveness. "Good morning, Lexa. How did you sleep?" one read, followed by, "Just wanted to make sure you're doing okay today." Lexa couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of comfort in Clarke's virtual presence. 

But it was the next message that caught Lexa's attention and held it. Clarke had written, "Hey, I've been thinking. There's an obstetrician in my office building, Dr. Bennett. I've heard great things about her. She's known for being really supportive and patient-centered. Do you want me to set up an appointment for you?" 

Lexa sat up, processing the information. Clarke's proactive approach, her willingness to help navigate this new and unfamiliar terrain, was both touching and reassuring. It was a relief to know that Clarke was not only emotionally supportive but also practically involved, helping to shoulder the responsibilities and decisions that lay ahead. 

Feeling a sense of gratitude, Lexa quickly typed a response, her fingers moving deftly over the keypad. "Good morning, Clarke. I slept okay, thanks for asking. And about Dr. Bennett, that sounds really helpful. I'd appreciate it if you could set up an appointment. Thank you for thinking of this." 

Sending the message, Lexa paused for a moment, letting the reality of the situation sink in. With Clarke's support, the journey ahead seemed less daunting. Knowing she had someone to rely on, someone who was already taking steps to ensure her well-being and that of their future child, Lexa felt a renewed sense of confidence and hope. 

She got out of bed, ready to face the day, buoyed by Clarke's messages and the knowledge that together, they were taking the first steps towards a new chapter in their lives. 

Throughout the day, Lexa's phone was a lifeline to Clarke, connecting them with a string of text messages that served as gentle reminders of their bond. They shared snippets of their day, little encouragements, and tender check-ins, painting their conversation with both the mundane and the intimate. This digital dialogue kept their connection alive and pulsing, a comforting presence in Lexa's pocket. 

When Clarke texted, asking if she could stay at Lexa's that night, her message was laced with a longing that mirrored Lexa's own. "I want to be there with you tonight. Is that okay?" Clarke had written. Lexa's response was swift and sure, a single word filled with relief and anticipation: "Yes." 

The evening brought Clarke to Lexa's doorstep. As the door opened, their eyes met, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. The day's accumulated emotions—apprehension, longing, affection—were palpable in the air between them. 

Without a word, they stepped towards each other and embraced. The hug was a deep, lingering connection, a physical manifestation of the support and love they had shared throughout the day. Lexa closed her eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of Clarke, feeling her warmth, her strength. Clarke's arms wrapped tightly around her, a reassuring fortress against the world. 

As they slowly pulled away from the embrace, their eyes locked once more. In that brief, charged silence, a myriad of unspoken words passed between them. Then, almost naturally, as if drawn by an invisible force, they leaned in and their lips met in a kiss. 

The kiss was a gentle yet profound affirmation of their bond. It was soft, tender, filled with the emotion that had been building throughout the day. In this kiss, Lexa felt the promise of support, the certainty of partnership, and the depth of Clarke's commitment to their shared future. 

As they finally broke the kiss, there was a serene sense of rightness in the air. The simple act of a kiss had spoken louder than any words could. They stood there, forehead to forehead, sharing a breath, a moment of peace amidst the whirlwind of their lives. 

This evening was just the beginning, the start of a new chapter that they would write together. But for now, in the quiet of Lexa's apartment, with Clarke's presence enveloping her, Lexa felt a profound sense of home. 

As the evening settled into a tranquil hush, Clarke and Lexa lay intertwined in the soft embrace of Lexa's bed. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving them enveloped in a cocoon of warmth and intimacy. Clarke's arm was draped around Lexa, her presence a comforting shield against the complexities of the world beyond their quiet sanctuary. 

In that tender closeness, surrounded by the gentle rhythm of Clarke's breathing, Lexa felt a profound connection to Clarke, a desire to express her love in its deepest form. With a gentle motion, she turned within the circle of Clarke's arms to face her. Their eyes met, conveying a depth of emotion and understanding that transcended words. 

Moved by a surge of love and desire, Lexa leaned in, initiating a tender kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of their journey together, of the strength they found in each other, and of the shared future that lay ahead. Clarke responded with equal passion, her hands tracing the contours of Lexa's back, deepening their embrace. 

As their kiss grew in intensity, so did their connection, blossoming into a physical expression of their deep emotional bond. They made love with a gentle reverence, each touch, each kiss, a testament to the love and trust they shared. It was an intimate dance of give and take, a rhythm that matched the beating of their hearts. 

In those moments, they were not just lovers; they were soulmates, united in a bond that was as deep as it was tender. Their lovemaking was a celebration of their relationship, a physical manifestation of their emotional connection, and a reaffirmation of their commitment to each other. 

Afterward, as they lay in each other's arms, basking in the afterglow of their union, there was a sense of complete contentment, a feeling of being utterly complete. The challenges and uncertainties of the future seemed less daunting, for they knew they would face them together, fortified by the strength of their love. 

In the quiet of the night, with Clarke's steady heartbeat echoing beneath her ear, Lexa felt a sense of profound gratitude. She knew that whatever lay ahead, they would navigate it side by side, their love a guiding light through any darkness. 

[weshipyourride]

Improve Your Bike And Life Skills With Ladies AllRide

A decade ago, Lindsey Richter saw a void in women’s mountain bike skills clinics and created Ladies AllRide to fill it. To this day, Lindsey, a long-time BikeFlights Ambassador, and her business partner Meredith Brandt of Grit Clinics continue to offer skills camps for women. Their camps are the perfect opportunity to take a mountain bike vacation at one of the best trail centers in the U.S., ride challenging tracks with supportive friends and sharpen skills.

On a day-to-day basis, Lindsey manages public relations, social media, written content, public speaking and general inspiration for Ladies AllRide while Meredith serves as the CEO and ‘Director of Everything’, handling logistics and managing everything and everyone.

Lindsey initially set out to design a new kind of skills camp that acknowledges the fears and difficulties associated with mountain biking while also creating an environment in which riders could celebrate their love for working through those elements of the sport. Its an ethos that remains a driving principle of hers today.

So what exactly happens at Liv Ladies AllRide camps? Here is a rundown from Lindsey herself:

We run 14 instructional mountain bike skills camps across the country annually where we coach up to 70 participants at each camp. These are fun-filled weekend events that are meant to bring women together to share the joys of mountain biking and learn in a safe, encouraging and welcoming environment.

We are passionate mountain bikers and professionally trained skills instructors who teach all levels of riders from beginner to advanced. We strive to build community and grow the population of female mountain bikers across the globe.

Combined with skills on the bike, we also inspire women to face fears, believe in themselves and change negative thoughts to positive. We relate mountain biking to life by helping women see how fear can debilitate us on bikes and in life. We have a unique formula where we throw in life skills along with bike skills.

For instance, we don’t stare at that rock and imagine crashing into it; we choose a line, look ahead, and think only thoughts that serve us, thoughts about what we need to do to get through, thoughts that keep us moving forward. 

A Ladies AllRide weekend is not only full of awesome instruction on the bike, we also provide a Friday and Saturday afternoon happy hour, goody bags full of awesome sponsor product and coupons, raffle prizes, discounts to our partner bike shops, a nutritious lunch, snacks like Picky Bars and free demo products like G-Form pads, Smith helmets and Liv demo bikes. We also offer an hour of “education stations” with topics like bike maintenance, suspension set-up, nutrition on and off the bike, managing fear and a body positioning slideshow with commentary.

When they’re not busy running Ladies AllRide from the road and at home in Bend, Oregon, Lindsey and Meredith can be found leading private lessons and destination-based camps with their staff of 50+ professionally-trained coaches. Together, they continue to sow the seeds of mountain bike stoke across the nation.

Book a skills camp with Ladies AllRide, or book a private lesson with Grit clinics.

[agustdomain]

A Slideshow of Road Lines {1}

Synopsis: They say oil and water don’t mix. What about oil paint and engines? He’s an artist reaching toward his dream while the girl with an engine heart is too busy trying to get her hands on the wheel. Is there a way for them to hold onto each other?

Word Count: 6.1k words

Pairing: Chris x Reader (yes, that is what I call him. I apologize if you prefer calling him Chan or Bang Chan)

Genre: college!au, artist!Chris, angst

Warnings: Alcohol, Language. Further warnings in later chapters.

Author’s Note: I’ve never done what I’m about to do with this work, which is to have several chapters of a series. The chapters will be on the shorter side, which is also very unlike me. I truly adore how this story is going and I can’t wait to further explore this world. I won’t be following any posting schedules, but there should be regular updates. Without further ado, let’s see where this road takes us. ~ Angelo

!IMPORTANT NOTE! If any of you have read my Hold a Heart, Bear the Burden series, this takes on a similar format. However, this story is taking place in TWO DIFFERENT TIMES instead of two different povs. When you see these flowers ❁, the story is shifting from present to past. There will also be a Then next to the day in order to further indicate that. If you have any questions, let me know!

DAY 1

She is a butterfly, beautiful and catastrophic. 

What were the last words he said to her? Ah, it’s all a blur now. How can she remember, when it’s been so long, she can’t recall his facial features anymore?

“Y/N. Come on. Talk to me.”

She swats her roommate’s hands away as she swats away her sanity. Ignoring Chuu’s look of exasperation, she continues the sway of her hips as her arms snake toward the ceiling. Dancing in the middle of their living room, putting on a show like she’s the only one there. 

Except she isn’t alone. And there isn’t any music playing. 

The night wasn’t supposed to unfold like this, mostly blaming it on her tsunami of thoughts. From the moment she’s heard the news, the tether to him tugged her and reminded her of its owner. It slithered up from her heart and around her neck, suffocating her.

It’s been two and half years. She thought enough time had passed. It’s evident that isn’t the case, because hearing his name tonight had caused rain to fall from the ceiling and the flood to rise in her lungs.

Even with all this time and distance between them, Chris still stains her brain like permanent ink...or poison. Poison is probably more accurate.

Isn’t drinking supposed to make her forget?

When she feels Chuu’s hand graze hers once more, she snaps like the bond between her and Chris had so long ago. 

“This is bullshit!” Her scream stills the storm, but only for a moment.

It only captures a snapshot of a moment. Chuu’s eyebrows are locked in a frown, hands outstretched like that of a needy child. Who is the real child?

Her other roommate Minnie is fanning her hands down at their guests Y/N had forgotten about, as if she’s avoiding a fire from spreading. What are those guys’  names again? She groggily searches her muddled mind, only remembering Minnie’s excited smile as she introduced one of them as her boyfriend.

It doesn’t take a genius to know Y/N isn’t taking Chris’s return well.

“I’m… sorry,” The words are miles apart, so distant she’s unsure if they come from her. The tsunami strikes shore just as Chuu’s face settles into one of understanding. Glancing at Minnie’s scornful glare sobers Y/N up a little. Chuu chooses to ignore their other and judgmental roommate, hands patiently waiting for her.

“I’ll walk you guys out,” Minnie makes it a note to speak pointedly as she escorts the two young men Y/N can barely remember to the front door. 

The imaginary music fades from her mind at the slam of the front door. When had she got down from the coffee table? The ceiling is spinning. Has it always been so cracked, so ugly? Raindrops are falling from it and splashing her cheeks.

“The ceiling is crying,” She tells Chuu. 

Chuu, her saving grace, fills her vision. Patting down Y/N’s face with a tissue improves the state of her damp face. Not enough, it seems, the rain continuing its downpour. 

“I’m here, Y/N. You’re not alone.”

“He left me, Chuu,” Sitting up, the waves crash into her so hard she slams back down onto the couch. The ceiling listens to her elegy without judgment. “Am I supposed to brush it off like- like- like we never knew each other? Like we didn’t love each other? That’s the hardest request anyone has ever given me. And of all people, he was the one to request that of me. No- No, I was the one to request it. He may have left, but I left him first.”

“Y/N-”

Y/N manages to sit up, leaning heavily on Chuu as she looks into her roommate’s startled gaze. “He was always destined for the beauty of the world. He convinced me there is more, that immortality lies beyond our understanding. He chose that over me. He told me he never would. But he did. And it’s my own fault.”

Y/N searches Chuu’s gaze, wondering if it makes any sense to her. It likely doesn’t, but it doesn’t matter. 

What matters is she understands. 

“Was I a mistake to him?”

Chuu doesn’t answer.

“Is he a mistake to me?”

Silence. The ceiling showers her with gentle rainfall. 

“Not possible. He’s…” Her eyelids suddenly grow massively heavy, heavier than that backpack she used to carry around in middle school. “He’s my favorite chapter. He’s… he’s the pen.”

Just like that, the butterfly is gone. 

DAY 2

Something is crying, her body is heavy as if she’s submerged in a pool, and there’s an ache in her neck begging for attention. Peeling her eyes open, her gaze slides over the boring ceiling before heading downward. After giving her brain a moment to kickstart, she realizes the crying is her phone blaring its ringtone. 

Making a note to change the horrid sound later, she moves to grab it- well, she thinks she does until she realizes her right arm is completely void of any feeling. Picking it up with her left hand, she watches as its slack body falls back to her side. The phone going off again is enough to make her snap. Instead, she slowly sits up, the flimsy blanket covering her pooling around her stomach. 

Ignoring the incessant knocking in her skull, she lazily fumbles for her phone as the needles start prickling throughout her right arm. Trying to speak is a feat, so instead she trudges to the kitchen for a glass of water as she accepts the call.

“Y/N! I’ve been outside the fucking door for twenty five minutes. I would’ve started banging on it if I was in the mood to deal with Minnie’s bullshit. I locked myself out again.”

Taking her time, Y/N slowly drinks a mouthful from her cup, pauses, then drinks some more. 

“Y/N? I’m not playing around. I had a shitty night and-”

Swinging the front door open, she comes face to face with Yeji, the fourth roommate and permanent resident in her life. 

“You look like-”

“Shit. I get it,” Y/N cuts her off, turning around and heading back to the kitchen. She listens as Yeji closes and locks the front door, kicking off her shoes and hanging up her keys. She isn’t surprised at the sound of her following. Y/N silently watches as her roommate watches her back, taking a seat at the dining table tucked in the corner.

Rubbing at her neck, Y/N’s eyes dance away, which so happens to direct her gaze to the refrigerator door. 

“Did I wake you up?”

“It’s whatever,” Y/N looks down into her empty cup, needing more water. Shuffling over to their water cooler, she pours herself more, stopping when she senses Yeji behind her. 

“Sorry. I didn’t realize you were… you know.” Y/N blinks at her words, realizing she’s trying to show she cares. Yeji looks away before holding up a finger, “I actually have the perfect hangover remedy.”

“Really? I thought you never drank.”

Yeji crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes. “And?”

Y/N walks past her with one hand up in surrender, taking Yeji’s previous spot at the table. “Just saying.”

Silence stretches between them as Yeji gets to work. Y/N doesn’t bother making small talk, sipping quietly at her water as she waits. Truthfully, she isn't sure what to make of this exchange. 

Best friends or not, things have been off-key between them for a while now. Nothing happened between them, no falling out or argument. It was just… off these days.  

The thought of last night hits her over the head like her hangover. The worst part of this ruthless torture is she remembered every single part of the night before. Isn’t drinking supposed to make her forget?

She hasn’t realized Yeji is sitting across from her until she slides a plate in front of her. Toast lathered with butter, two boiled eggs, and cut up strawberries. Her heart tugs, recognizing the breakfast from the many sleepovers growing up.

“Thank you.”

Yeji waves her off. As Y/N bites into an egg, she senses her friend is about to speak. Just as the difficulty of chewing the yolk kicks in, Yeji’s voice fills the void.

“I heard from Jin who’s back in town.” 

It’s hard to swallow, and not only because hard boiled eggs are unnecessarily difficult to eat. 

Y/N tries to play it off with looking unbothered, her heart rate picking up. What is her deal? Why is it so hard to breathe? Avoiding Yeji’s pointed stare, she only meets her gaze over the rim of her cup as she takes the opportunity to catch her breath. 

“Did drinking last night have anything to do with that?”

Stabbing a strawberry a little too hard, she braces herself for impact before meeting Yeji’s gaze and deadpanning, “What do you think?”

Yeji is never one to beat around the bush. What is she playing at this morning? Is their friendship so off that she can’t be her usual upfront self? 

They are dancing around each other at this point, Y/N trying to finish her food quickly as she keeps an eye on Yeji for any mind tricks. Her friend’s arms are crossed atop the table, chipped nail polish drawing attention to her impatient fingers tapping at her forearm. 

“What do you want me to say, Yeji?” Y/N finally breaks, setting her fork down. 

“What do you want to say?”

“Oh, quit bullshitting me. Everything you do is calculated. Even offering to make me breakfast wasn’t out of the kindness of your heart. The moment you saw me, you waited for the opportunity to bring him up!”

She’s gone and done it now, but it’s too late to backtrack. Yeji is in the midst of a look of disgust, and Y/N is too upset to care as the chair screeches as she stands. Her friend mirrors her, cutting off her escape right as she reaches the stairs. Of course they had to live in a townhouse. Even if they didn’t, there is never a clean escape when it came to the girl in front of her.

“I’m sorry you’re not exactly jumping for joy that Chris is back, but that doesn’t mean you take it out on me.”

Y/N forces a laugh out, hiding her fear at the realization that Yeji is bringing him up for a reason. 

“Spare me the pity. Why did you bring him up?”

Yeji pauses. Nausea rises in Y/N’s stomach. Is Y/N being too much? 

She’s the one to avoid Y/N’s gaze now, feigning confidence. “I-I knew you wouldn’t be okay. That’s all.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, I’m not stupid, you know.”

Y/N mumbles beneath her breath, “I couldn’t tell,” and she wonders if Yeji chooses to ignore it. 

“Hyunjin isn’t the only person you can count on to be there for you, you know. And if anyone has been there for you, it hasn’t been him. It’s been me.”

Wrong move. Not that Yeji is winning this chess match whatsoever. Mentioning Hyunjin is giving up her queen in the midst of their match. Check. Bringing up Hyunjin is sensitive, because usually she brings up her cousin out of spite.

“You know nothing,” Y/N’s voice quivers with anger, not even letting her open her mouth before she shoves past her and up the stairs.

“Y/N! Y/N, wait! Are you seriously going to walk away- we’re not done-”

Somehow, she manages to make it to her room on the third floor without vomiting or passing out. Slamming her door signals they are just that- done. Checkmate.

Throwing herself across the bed, she fights with all her energy to stop from crying. She’s being pathetic, after all. So what? Chris is back. And not just for some brief visit or to show his face to everyone else but her (like he did these past couple of years). He’s back for good- at least, that’s what Hyunjin’s texts implied. 

Wiping her face with her sleeve, she pulls out her phone to check her notifications. As she scrolls through them, she ignores the sound of Minnie stomping down from the second floor to scream at Yeji about waking her up. She ignores Chuu’s knock at her door that follows shortly after, the one she saw coming. 

She doesn’t even listen for when the yelling stops. Eventually, it just does. 

Time passes as she lays there, turning her screen on and off. Holding off for as long as she could, it doesn’t take long at all for her to give in and open up her messages with Hyunjin.

Her eyes dance over his words over and over, the text that had set her off the night before. When he had first texted, she immediately knew he was acting strange. 

She and Hyunjin had never said it aloud, because if they did Yeji would lose her mind, but the two of them are the closest out of the trio. Yeji already has a one up on Y/N considering she’s cousins with him. Blood relations meant they’re bound by destiny. When Y/N told him that, Hyunjin always argued that would mean Yeji had a one up on him because she met Y/N first. 

They don’t have to say it aloud. They were in sync the moment they first met. 

Which is why she knows him from head to toe, and knew how he started their conversation last night was off.

At first, he had called. Picking up the phone and picking up on his tone went hand and hand. He had tried so hard to keep his voice steady, she could feel that too. Hyunjin had always been the easiest to read between the three of them. When he had sensed her suspicion he had made some lame excuse about calling her back and then proceeded to continue their conversation over text. 

Honey

I need to tell you something.                                   Delivered at 8:54 PM

There’s but a few sentences a person can receive over text that gives them a heart attack. That sentence is one of them. 

Y/N remembers how hard it was to stay calm as she texted him back as casually as she could, asking him what’s up. 

Honey 

I don’t know how else to put it so I’m just going to say it. 

Chris is back now.                                                Delivered at 8:57 PM

It had taken an hour long walk and a shower before she had responded to him with, That’s great. 

She’s sure Hyunjin knows it isn’t great, not to her. Since then, she hasn't answered any of his texts or calls. There aren't many, but he was ignored enough to get the message. 

What’s she supposed to say? Not just to Hyunjin, but to everyone? She can’t even articulate what she’s feeling to herself, let alone to her friends. The real question is, what did this mean? If he’s back, what does that mean to her?

“What does that have to do with me?” She confesses to her ceiling. Everything. 

She laughs at the brutal honesty. The ceiling is right. It has everything to do with her. As Chris used to famously remind her, she was everything to him. And he, to her. 

❁     ❁     ❁    ❁     ❁     ❁     ❁

Day 1, Then

She was a historian, studious and scholarly. That’s what she tried to tell herself as she scrolled through endless online journals, looking for anything she could use in the essay that had her on the verge of crying. 

A few months into university, and she thought it would eventually get easier. Of course, she had qualms about why she was a STEM major who was required to take a history course, but that didn’t stop her from working hard.

Just one more paragraph.

She stared at the winking cursor, every minute passed signifying a millenia going by. In the last month, there wasn’t a single assignment she was happy with, but she supposed it had to do. At least she was completing her work, after all.

For once, she decided to keep her phone on, making it impossibly easy for Yeji to pester her. So far, she was able to ignore it. After her phone buzzed for the eighth time, she picked it up without even checking the ID.

“Yes?”

“Did you really think I was going to let you off that easy?”

The thorn in her side since birth made way for the biting tone. That was the sweetest way she could describe Yeji. 

“I held out hope. Guess I was wrong,” Y/N said distractedly, reading the last sentence she had typed out. Her eyes trailed up, frowning when it said last save was twenty minutes ago.

“You realize that you promised me you would ignore homework for one night. Just one. And you’re already breaking that promise.”

Y/N’s face scrunched up at Yeji’s tone. “Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic? I told you I have a lot to do this week. I have two papers due by Sunday and an exam next Tuesday-”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re always busy, Y/N. That’s not new. But that doesn’t stop your movie nights with Hyunjin. Or when you spend time with Lu. You expect me to meet these douchebags on my own?” She had hissed the last part, but Hyunjin had always had perfect hearing. His scolding in the background was exactly what she expected, and it’s what she heard a moment later.

Ignoring Yeji’s whining, she cut in, “My roommate's name is Chuu, by the way-” she started typing distractedly as she added- “Put Jin on the phone.”

“Why? Just so he can convince you in one word while it’s super easy for you to reject me?”

“Yeji, sweetie,” Y/N skimmed over her paragraph before holding the phone in between her neck and shoulder blade, fingers racing across her keyboard, “Jealousy is not a good look on you.”

“Go for Hyunjin,” His muffled voice was masked likely by whatever snack he was shoving in his mouth. For as long as she knew him, he had never managed to break out of his snacker phase. 

“Can you pretend that I’m considering going out even though I fully intend on staying in?”

“You should come out with us. I mean, I know school is important for us all, but I haven’t seen your face in years.”

Y/N deadpanned, “We had lunch together two days ago. You’re both being too dramatic for my taste.”

“You don’t have to come out. If it’s really urgent for you to hole yourself up in your room, that is.” Always the sweetest, she never had to worry about him understanding. “I don’t think it’ll kill you to come out for one night. There’s always a next time, of course-” Yeji arguing with his words made him snap before returning to his sweet self- “Anyways, I miss you too. A lot. We can’t be a trio when we’re missing the best one out of all of us.”

“I am right here, Hyun. Shouldn’t I be your favorite, ya know, since we’re blood related?” Yeji was closer to the phone now, Y/N too entertained by their banter to focus on her assignment any longer.

“That’s exactly why you aren’t,” He scoffed. 

Y/N tuned out their arguments for a few moments, typing away. Ignoring the disappointment at her choice, she shook it off as she said, “I’ll catch you later, Honey. Okay?”

“Of course.”

                                                         ~~~~

Swinging open her dorm door, a frown pulled at Y/N’s eyebrows at the sight of two very familiar faces in front of her. Hyunjin shuffled from one foot to the other, an apologetic smile awkwardly teetering on his lips. Y/N’s eyes slid over to Yeji, head high as she stood unashamed and proud. Narrowing her eyes at the woman, she pulled the door closer to her, no intention of inviting them inside. 

That’s when Y/N noticed two unfamiliar faces behind her two best friends. The one nearest Hyunjin was a flower pre-bloom, hand fiddling with his sweater sleeve, round glasses sliding down his face. He was quite handsome, his facial features contrasting with his softer style.

The guy behind Yeji exuded confidence. Or cockiness. She didn’t know yet, but figured she’d find out eventually. Head tilted upward, stance commanding the wall he leaned up against to support him instead of the other way around. Eyes sharp as an eagle, watching her. Basically, the exact opposite of the other stranger.

“I tried to tell her.” Hyunjin blurted, pinning the blame.

Yeji spared a glare at her cousin before flashing her famous charming smile at Y/N. It didn’t work, an uncontrollable sigh slipping from Y/N’s lungs.

“Yeji, I told you that-”

“Yeah, I know, but it’s a Friday night. You can spend an hour or two with us.”

They fell into tension, a wave of frustration washing over Y/N. Yeji really knew how to get on her nerves. 

Hyunjin’s gaze flickered between them, always on the forefront and ready to diffuse. “We’re going to play Mortal Kombat 11 at Jisung’s. I figured you might want to come.”

Tempting. Y/N softened at the sight of him, his face innocent and his intentions pure. She wondered how he and Yeji were blood related sometimes. 

“I’m Jisung,” The confident/cocky one from behind Yeji chimed in, eagle eyes morphing into a boy next door. That might be an issue.

“Y/N.” She offered up a small smile, glancing back in her dorm room with longing. Refusing to look at Yeji, she studied Hyunjin- the only sane person in front of her, it seemed. Yeji was right about one thing: Hyunjin was her soft spot and always would be. 

“Give me a few minutes to change. And then we can head out.”

“And the entourage gets bigger,” Jisung’s eyes flashed. Yeji rolled her eyes. 

Casting them one glance, Y/N regretted her decision the moment she closed her door. No going back now. 

                                                        ~~~~

“Oh, come on! That was some bullshit.” Hyunjin called out, tossing the controller aside as Jisung whooped in victory.

“What did I say? Doesn’t matter who I go against. I can kick anyone’s ass if I’m using Scorpion.”

Y/N sipped at her soda, very amused by the debacle in front of her. Jisung and Changbin’s dorm wasn’t too spacious, only slightly bigger than hers, but it was filled with character. Changbin’s side of the room, she quickly learned, was the side of sanctuary. Organized, neat, and smelling of a citrus freshener.

Jisung’s side of the room was chaotic. Haphazard piles of clothes stuffed beneath the bed, discarded papers strewn about. At least it didn’t smell. The moment he had cleared the bed for them to sit down, Y/N had to elbow Yeji to prevent the distaste from growing any bigger on her friend’s face. 

As the two guys continued on bickering for a few moments, Y/N watched as Changbin glanced over from his side of the room, irritation poking at his features. He was completely different from Jisung. 

“Guys,” Changbin warned. It was enough to calm the argument, but only slightly. 

“CB, who do you think is the best?” Jisung stumbled to his feet and headed straight for the guy in question. She didn’t know if Jisung was oblivious or he didn’t care for the look of anger on his roommate’s face. As the night dragged on, it seemed to be the latter.

“Don’t know.”

“It’s obviously Scorpion. Not to mention his fatalities are the most badass.”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes and gave Y/N a look, as if to tell her, Get a load of him. Smiling at him, she watched as the tension left his shoulders. Sitting on the floor in front of her made it easy for her to reach down and ruffle his hair comfortingly. 

“Don’t care, Jisung.”

Jisung animatedly threw his arms up in surrender, declaring, “I’m clearly the one with the best taste here.”

“Please,” Yeji uttered. It wasn’t unheard, Jisung’s eyes snapping to hers, lighting ablaze anywhere they touched. If it were anyone else, it would have been enough to make them back down. This was Yeji, though. If Jisung were a bonfire, Yeji was a volcano. 

“You think you could do any better?”

“I didn’t say that. I just think you’re hilarious.”

Hyunjin, wide-eyed and wise to his cousin’s behavior could sense the random tension growing between the two of them. Moving to open his mouth, Jisung beat him to the punch.

“Why, because I know how to have fun? Unlike you, who’s been sitting on my bed with a pissy attitude all night.”

Even Changbin was tuned into the bullets that came out of nowhere. Y/N subtly rubbed at her temple in annoyance. Just then, she recalled a conversation she had with Yeji a while back about how she had ran into Hyunjin and some of his friends. That conversation was a whole hour complaint and rant about one guy in particular, who was “so full of himself that he left the room empty”. 

Her brain put two and two together, realizing the Jisung she mentioned back then was the guy in front of her now.

“Subzero,” Changbin’s quiet voice sounded from his bed, his eyes never leaving his laptop as his fingers flew across the keyboard.

“What?” Jisung asked, face scrunching up.

“Subzero is clearly the superior MK fighter.”

The tension was snatched from the room like that, though Y/N had to subtly grab onto Yeji’s wrist to keep her from rekindling the fire. They shared a look for a moment as the boys broke out into another Mortal Kombat argument. For whatever reason Y/N couldn’t explicitly see, Yeji couldn’t stand Jisung. 

Sure, he was a bit full of himself but she also noticed the phenomenon that Hyunjin grew into in the boys’ presence. He was incredible on his own, but with his friends, there was a newfound confidence that hardly existed before. It was refreshing, because all their lives Hyunjin had struggled with that. Yeji had a habit of disliking most people, always finding something to complain about. 

Y/N sipped at her soda as she looked away, shaking her head at the drama Yeji was slowly creating. Her eyes trailed to Changbin once more, now donning a pair of headphones to block out the chaos. Slightly scoffing in amusement, she found herself wishing she were in his shoes. 

All she knew was Yeji was annoying her, Jisung was really loud, and she had a mountain of homework due in two days that she barely even touched. 

She tuned in then, just as Jisung was cursing to himself and shoving his phone into his hoodie.

“Come on, man, unpause it,” Hyunjin whined, “You’re stalling because I’m about to kill your ass.”

“Nah, that’s not it,” Jisung unpaused the screen and continued their fight on the tv, “This is just the third time Chris has cancelled on me.”

“Was Chris supposed to come chill with us?” Hyunjin asked, screaming in disbelief when Jisung landed his special move, taking the win for the second round. 

“Yup. Haven’t seen him for like a week. He keeps on saying he spends all of  his time in the art studios but if that were true, I wouldn’t see him with Felix all the time.” Jisung skillfully maneuvered his character, knowing all the special moves. Hyunjin was a bit more clumsy, clearly not as familiar with the game as the owner. 

“Yeah, but we are coming up on midterms,” Hyunjin reasoned.

“I get it. It’s why I’m not on CB’s ass about staying up all hours of the night. What I don’t like is Chris always cancels at the last second.”

Yeji distracted her when her then as she showed her a funny video on her phone. They spent a moment scrolling through Yeji’s Instagram for a moment, chatting here and there. Jisung, turning off the game, grabbed her attention again, his face guarded as he accused Hyunjin without hesitation.

“You cheated.”

“How did I cheat?!”

“There’s no way Erron Black beat Scorpion! There’s no way you beat me!”

“Oh, here we go.”

Y/N shook her head, Yeji nudging her. “What’s up?”

“What do you think about this guy?” Yeji revealed her phone screen, a Tinder profile on display. Y/N tried to keep her face from scrunching up, finding his photo to be too cocky considering the lack of clothing.

“Swipe left. Don’t do that to yourself.”

“Come on! He’s not bad!”

“He doesn’t even have a bio.”

Yeji pouted for a moment, studying the photo for a moment before sighing and swiping left, “Fair point.”

“What do you think we should do for his birthday?” 

Jisung’s loud voice made her tune into their chatter-again. She watched him in the midst of solving a Rubik’s cube he had produced out of nowhere.

Hyunjin leaned his head back on the bed, hair splaying out by her legs. Y/N subconsciously reached out and started playing with his hair. Hyunjin hummed in satisfaction before mumbling, “I don’t know, maybe the bowling rink? It’s only a couple blocks from campus.”

Jisung paused in his puzzle solving, eyes narrowing at Hyunjin. “Good ideas, please. That’s lame.”

Hyunjin looked back at Y/N upside down, disbelief clear as day. She flashed him a comforting smile. 

“Whose birthday is it?” Y/N jumped in as an attempt to redirect Jisung’s fire.

“Our friend Chris. You would’ve met him tonight if he wasn’t such a flake.”

Yeji stood and stretched before treading over to the communal bathroom the boys shared with their suite-mates. They all watched her for a moment before continuing their conversation.

“Well,” Y/N looked at Hyunjin before asking, “What’s Chris like?”

“That’s a good question,” Jisung pumped his fist in celebration as he finished solving the Rubik’s cube, fumbling to stop the timer on his phone. He groaned when the time read 4:01, clearly not satisfied. “What is Chris like, Hyunjin?”

“He’s… he’s probably the best one out of all of us.”

If Y/N was expecting him to say anything, it definitely wasn’t that. For as long as she lived, Hyunjin was the best guy she had ever had the honor of meeting without a doubt. It surprised her further when Changbin cut in with a one-word agreement before returning to his school work. Jisung even agreed, albeit a little begrudgingly.

The three of them might believe that, but it was hard for anyone to surpass Hyunjin in her eyes.

Looking between the three boys, she asked, “Are you being serious?” 

“What, you don’t believe us?” Jisung snapped. 

“Dude, chill,” Hyunjin warned, before he smiled genuinely at Y/N and nodded. “Yeah, I’m being serious. He has this way about him. I don’t know, he just knows how to make everyone around him feel good. He’s thoughtful and includes everybody. He’s also super funny and goofy. Oh, and my favorite thing? He always puts Jisung in his place.”

“Shut up,” Jisung barked, “Why don’t you marry the guy since you love him so much?”

“Nope. That’s CB’s job.” Hyunjin laughed, Jisung nodding and agreeing with whatever inside joke they shared. 

It warmed Y/N’s heart, to hear how much they adored this other friend she hadn’t met yet. Truth be told, it made her a little bit more curious about the guys before her. Maybe they caught her on a good day. If this were anyone else, one hangout would have sufficed. 

It was clear that there was more beneath this cocky facade Jisung put on, and Changbin was a locked treasure chest. This Chris guy lingered in her mind, wondering how great he had to be for his friends to praise him as effortlessly as they did. 

Shaking her head, she finished off her Dr. Pepper. She paused her train of that. That was weird. Why did any of that matter? It wasn’t like these were her friends. This was probably the last time she’d hang out with them. 

Her eyes found Hyunjin who was in the middle of a laughing fit. His face and neck were blushing red, his pretty smile on full display. Her heart squeezed, and she realized it made her happy to see him branching out and meeting new people. 

If anyone deserved to be seen and appreciated, it was Hyunjin. There was a reason she had nicknamed him Honey. He was sweet, warm, and magnetic. 

That was the moment she realized these guys? They were pretty alright. 

                                                       ~~~~

Later that night, after the girls parted ways with Hyunjin, they headed inside their dorm building. Unfortunately he lived at the same dorm as his friends, which happened to be on the other side of campus. After he and Jisung walked them home- Yeji quietly complained about her unwanted guest the whole walk there-they quickly departed.

As they rode up the elevator, a silence fell over the two. Y/N sensed Yeji had something to say for two reasons: Yeji didn’t hit the button for her floor and she kept on sighing dramatically. 

Having enough of her dramatics, Y/N turned to her at the same time Yeji did the same. “What’s up?”

“That was… worse than I expected.”

“How so?” Y/N narrowed her eyes. 

As the elevator rose up to the ninth floor, so did Y/N’s irritation. She didn’t know if she had the patience to deal with Yeji’s irrational judgment tonight. 

“Well, Jisung is unbearable.”

“Here we go.”

“What? I know you saw how he is. He’s so full-”

“-Of himself. What else, Yeji?”

Yeji gaped at her, the elevator doors sliding open. Y/N took the lead out the doors, heading down the hallway and toward her dorm. Yeji followed close behind, hissing, “What, do you like him or something? You don’t agree?”

“I’m not saying that. It’s just… you’re always like this. Every time we meet someone new, you find something not to like. Jisung isn’t perfect, I can see that already. But so aren’t you. And I’m not either. So who are we to disapprove of who Hyunjin decides to befriend?”

Yeji straightened her back, face going cold. “Actually, we are the exact people who should tell him who he should avoid. We’ve been by his side his whole life through thick and thin, and we know what’s good for him. Jisung is not it.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. Yeah, we matter to Hyunjin but he’s his own person. He can decide who he can be friends with. And why are you so dead set on hating Jisung? He hasn’t even done anything!”

Yeji shrugged a shoulder, just like a child with no comeback. “I don’t need a reason. It’s intuition.”

Y/N wanted to pull her hair out. Instead, she unlocked her dorm door. Before she shut the door, she looked at Yeji in the eye and said, “Well, good luck with telling Hyunjin that. I don’t agree with you, just remember that.”

It sucked having to close the door on her, but she knew that she wouldn’t let off until it escalated into a fight. She hated fighting with Yeji, so she knew the best choice was to walk away. 

“Everything okay?”

Turning slowly, she offered a weak smile to her roommate. Trudging into the room, she took in Chuu’s usual night routine, matching pajama set and face mask, sat at her desk as she watched her most recent Netflix obsession.

“Yeah, everything’s cool. Just Yeji freaking out again.” Y/N threw herself across her bed, needing a moment to collect her thoughts.

“Sorry to hear that,” Chuu softly told her, seemingly distracted by whatever was happening on her laptop screen. 

As she laid there, the conversation between her and Yeji played out again in her mind. She understood her concerns, she really did. Yeji wasn’t the only one who noticed some of Jisung’s… negative qualities. In terms of friendliness, she was more like Yeji than Hyunjin. She was wary of people just like she was, the only difference was she needed more of a reason to write someone off. 

Maybe it was jealousy, or maybe it was something more that Y/N couldn’t see, but Yeji was being irrationally unfair. After more thought, her mind didn’t change. Yeji would have to express her dislike on her own. 

She started dozing off to the quiet chatter of Chuu’s show and her thoughts of the boys she had just met. 

Bonfire Jisung, treasure box Changbin, and the mystery Chris. 

She could admit to herself now, when the world was quiet and she was vulnerable to her own mind, that she didn’t mind being around them, not at all. 

As long as they made Hyunjin happy.

> Part Two <

[falrytopia]

Barbie: Mermaid Power Speculation

Here's what we know so far.

From the investor's meeting slideshow, we have this early development image:

Initially, I thought these were the final doll designs and I honestly thought they were pretty lackluster, but then I realized that these are pre-existing designs from the Dreamtopia line, so they must have just been using them for flavour during the presentation? Who knows.

The final doll designs are actually pretty cool! From 4ever-barbie.blogspot.com:

Cute designs + well-composed colour palettes, in my opinion!

Plus there are Chelsea, Stacie, and Skipper dolls, so we can assume they'll all be in the movie. No info on whether Brooklyn's family will be in the movie.

This boat...... can we PLEASE talk about the early production image for this boat:

I don't know what about this picture makes me so mind-boggled. Is it the immobile elbows? Malibu in the visor-sunglasses combo making her look like a middle-aged Vacation Dad?

Something I am pretty excited for is this new Brooklyn design, with her hair down. I'm interested to see what texture they will use for the final versions of the dolls, given that there are some afro-texture dolls in the playline. As it is in the mock-up, it's more wavy than anything.

I don't think anything is known about the plot as of right now. Apparently Epic Road Trip is releasing in September, so maybe this one will be the same way?

[btsmosphere]

Crossing Paths - drabble from the Crossfire universe

request from @excusemyuwus -

I remember Tae said he had a crush on her while working on that project so now I kinda want to see his pov of that time and how he was holding being around his crush lol, not gonna lie gangster Tae all nervous bc he like someone is something want to see (also imagine how much the guys would tease him uwu)

tumblr ate your ask when I tried to answer it, sorry! this is the only part I had copied, but if it ever resurfaces, I shall answer there. for now it is still refusing to cooperate so I am posting like this! (update: the ask just returned, it is here)

~pairing: taehyung x reader ~word count: 1.4k ~pre-relationship, fluff, angst, slice of life, mafia au, college au ~rating: g ~warnings: vague mention of gang activity, this is a gang au after all, but it’s not particularly prominent

~a/n: thank you for your great request! this was so nice to come back to, I am so sentimental about this series as my first bts fic🥰takes me back to when I was just getting into bts… it felt hard to do it justice! because of this, sorry it took me a while to write, but I wanted to do it well, and again I kept the theme of making my ‘drabbles’ wayyy longer😅final big thanks to the site being frustrating and eating drafts and such🙃🙃but here it is, finally seeing the light of day! I hope you enjoy it x

“I can tell something’s on your mind, Tae.”

Jimin stared coolly at his friend. Looking over his shoulder guiltily as he unlocked the door, Tae found the other boy with his hands in his pockets, looking expectant.

All Tae could do was shrug as he elbowed the door open, heading to ditch his bag.

“Hey, Jimin’s right.”

A light flick on Tae’s forehead made him startle, looking up to find Hobi grinning, though his head was tilted to one side in question.

“What is it?”

Jimin’s shoulder nudged his own as they sunk into the sofa.

Tae checked his phone.

“It’s just a project for class, don’t worry about it,” he pocketed his phone, ignoring their gazes, “I gotta meet with my partner in an hour.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t staying that long anyway,” Hobi slumped down too, having helped himself to a drink from the fridge, “I’m on watch with Yoongi across town.”

As the discussion turned to this week’s jobs and deals, Taehyung rested his head back against the sofa. The sounds of his friends’ conversation was like static. Instead, he was picturing the scene in class earlier, as the slideshow was flipped to show the project partners on the screen.

Tae hadn’t been too fussed, idly playing with his pen lid as he searched for his name. But when his eyes fell on it, he sat up straight.

Having only bumped into you a few times in class, he had never expected his heart to be hammering quite so hard as he quickly scanned the room for you. Sliding his things away, he had walked towards you as everyone began to file out, meeting you halfway as you did the same.

Leaning against a desk to keep his jittery hands occupied, he grinned at you.

Your returning smile, he noticed, was much more nervous, only flickering into existence for a wavering second. The two of you had only a brief conversation to sort out when you would meet, before you had practically scurried away.

His eyes had lingered on you as his smile slowly sank.

Unconsciously poking his tongue against his cheek, Tae wondered if you were afraid of him.

“Hey!”

A finger clicked sharply in front of his face. He blinked back at Hobi’s grin, Jimin bursting into laughter at his side.

“Just a project, my ass,” Hobi shook his head, dumping an empty bottle on the coffee table, “don’t wanna be late, do you?”

A radiant smile was tossed over his shoulder as Hobi left the room, front door clicking soon after.

Sending his best friend a knowing look, Jimin also gathered himself to stand.

“Have fun tonight, yeah?”

He winked. Tae protested, shooting up from the sofa with an affronted look.

“So it is a special someone?” Jimin giggled.

“You’re impossible,” Tae grumbled, trailing after him to the door, “it’s just a project, I told you.”

Jimin hummed in a way which made it very clear he didn’t believe him.

“Don’t scare them off, tiger,” he remarked, stepping outside.

Tae’s shoulders slumped. He was certain that was just what he had already done.

“I’m busy tonight. And my house isn’t free, so I can’t have anyone showing up here.”

Namjoon chuckled across the line.

“All this for a college project?” Clearly he had heard about this from the others. “If you could lend Kook some of your commitment to school, that would be great,” he teased.

Sighing, Tae spun around to survey the road outside his window, ruffling his own hair.

“You’re very funny, but I need to go. See you tomorrow.”

Tae was certain he would never hear the end of this from the others. It was true that he had firmly set aside time for your meeting today, even if it was only for a minor college presentation. But it was important to him.

He knew that this was the only time he would get together with you, and though it would end as soon as the presentation was given, he couldn’t help but want to make the most of it. At your last meeting, he had been largely distracted by the dizzying height of your apartment, leaving him shying back from any windows.

So this left you with his house today instead.

Arriving soon after Tae’s phone call, you were both soon seated on his floor. Though you mostly worked in quiet with occasional, quick conversation, it was not awkward. Your legs lay close together under the coffee table as you scribbled away diligently on its surface.

Glancing over the lid of his laptop as his fingers hung idly, Tae sighed. Watching as your pen swirled across your notebook, he let his eyes drift across your focussed features.

He swallowed as he did so, teeth tugging his lip. A light frown came over your features. He couldn’t take his eyes away from your lips as your pen lifted to your mouth, resting between your teeth as you mulled the work over, eyes flitting about the page.

Eventually, the lack of tapping at his keyboard must have got through to you. You raised your head.

Too late to divert his gaze, Taehyung cleared his throat and muttered a proposal for a break. Eager as well to put your work aside, you clambered from the floor to join him at his offer of a drink.

Moving through to the kitchen, he made casual conversation, asking after your dad. Last time there had only been a brief meeting, as he met Tae at the door before you hurried him away.

Picking up on his offer to chat, you teased Tae for his fear of heights, giggling over how he had screwed his eyes shut whenever he had come within sight of the view from your windows.

Of course, Tae tried his best to roll his eyes at you, but the smile dragging the corners of his mouth refused to be suppressed.

He poured your drinks. When he turned away to put the cartons back in the fridge, he took a breath, trying to settle himself. Why did he feel so flustered?

Squaring his shoulders a little more, he turned back, only for his hand to catch one of the glasses. It clattered against the surface, barely leaving time for him to jump back and avoid being splattered with its contents.

You hopped from your seat, ready to help.

Swallowing down his shock, Tae scratched at the back of his neck to hide his slightly trembling hand.

“Don’t worry,” he quickly muttered, flashing a nervous smile as he gathered towels and set to cleaning up.

Soft laughter followed from you. Still, you reached across to help.

Righting the glass and taking one of the cloths to clear up, your hand came concerningly close to Tae’s own. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on the countertop, his cheeks warm even as you finished and he was rooting in the fridge again for a refill.

You seemed miraculously unfazed by his flailing, though, he noticed as you finally settled beside each other sipping your drinks.

“So it went well?”

Jimin nudged a reluctant Tae, eyebrows wiggling all the time.

“Yes, fine,” Tae groaned, trying to shrug him off.

Jimin did stop, but only in favour of staring at his friend with doleful eyes.

“Don’t be like that. You’ll see her again. You literally share a class!”

“It’s nothing like that,” Tae refuted.

He even halfway believed it.

You had got on well together, but surely not more than could be expected of most classmates? He sighed a little as he thought of it. It had been fun, but there was no excuse to spend any more time with you.

Besides, sparing one night to work on a project was a little different to becoming friends, or even more…

There was a reason the bangtan boys stuck to themselves.

But as he reminisced, he knew he had a soft spot for you, even if it should come to nothing. The project was over, the presentation given, but he still remembered the way you bounced with excited relief after you had finished talking to the class. Your face was glowing as you high-fived him with a grin, the work having paid off.

There was still a hint of nervousness though, and you had only given a timid smile and a small ‘see you later’ before heading out of class.

And that was the end of it.

But Tae smiled to himself. It had been fun, and he knew he wouldn’t be sorry if you ever crossed paths again.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments super appreciated always!!

Taglist: @aianloveseven​ @preciouschimine​ @un2-verse​ @ddaechwita​ @taegularities​ 

[mldrgrl]

The Matchmaker

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG Summary:  Based on this old prompt I got, which I originally said I couldn’t handle, but then inspiration struck and I had to roll with it.  

Scully has only just barely opened the door to the dark office when Mulder is shoving a file into her hands and closing the door behind her.  The projector is on, but the screen is blank, just white square of light and Mulder’s silhouette as he takes her to-go cup of coffee from her hands so she can shrug out of her overcoat.

“Once upon a time,” he says, handing her coffee back to her.

“Really, Mulder?  Once upon a time?”

He smirks good-naturedly and snatches up the remote to the projector to advance to the first slide.  “Once upon a time there was a little tiny tree in a great big forest in New Hampshire.”

“Mmhm.”  

Scully tucks the unopened file under her arm and passes through the warm light of the slide projector to put her satchel down at her workstation.  She takes a momentary glance at a grainy, black and white photo of a large tree and sips her coffee.

“Estimates have placed this particular tree to be somewhere around 400 years old.  This is the earliest photo of it I could find, in the Manchester Daily from 1929.”

“Did someone cut this tiny little tree down and release a great big swarm of deadly mites like the ones we encountered in Washington state?”

“No, nothing like that.”  Mulder winces and scratches the back of his head before advancing to the next slide, another black and white photo from a different angle, wider so that the tree in question stands small and alone in the middle of a field against a backdrop of mighty oaks and firs and pines.    

“Well?” she asks.

“Did you know there are countless legends about enchanted trees?  Trees with magical powers, trees that have the ability to heal or harm or grant wishes or foretell the future?”

“Folklore.”

“Every single culture has some kind of legend about the power of a tree.”

“Mulder, you once tried to tell me the same thing about Bigfoot.”

He ignores the wisecrack and clicks through his slides, narrating the images that appear on the screen.  “The Jinmenju tree in Japan is said to have fruit with human faces that laugh at people who happen to walk by.  There’s the sacred Norse tree Yggdrasil, center of the cosmos and where the Gods gather for daily court.  In Iranian mythology the Bas tokhmak is said to contain seeds that eliminate sorrow and despair.  And the Hungarian égig érő fa or sky-high tree that only selected shamans are entitled to climb and encounter magical worlds in the clouds.”

“Sounds suspiciously similar to Jack and the Beanstalk.”

“And then there’s the Hart’s Location Flame Thrower Redbud.”    

Scully presumes the new slide is the same tree that was in black and white at the start of the slideshow, only now it’s in color.  The leaves are multicolored, mostly red and purple, but some are so dark they’re nearly black.  Though small, the tree stands out in sharp contrast to the yellow fieldgrass, blue sky, and the green trees behind it.

“Well, it’s certainly beautiful,” she says.

“The locals call it The Matchmaker.”

Scully snorts softly.  “And why is that?” she asks.

“If you open up that file I so generously put together for you, you’ll find newspaper clippings from the past half-century, most of them wedding announcements, citing this tree as a key to what led these couples to a happy union.”

“Mulder...you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Of course with any good legend, there’s a catch.”

“Of course there is.”  She puts her coffee down and opens the file, but doesn’t take more than a passing glance at the pages she flips through.

“From what I can gather, and keep in mind this is the Cliff’s Notes version of things, people believe the tree can predict compatibility in couples who make the pilgrimage there.”

“And how, pray tell, does the tree do this?”

“Glad you asked!”  Mulder advances the next slide, a close up photo of the left hand of a woman.  The ring finger is disfigured in some way, appearing to Scully to almost resemble a twig.

“What the hell am I looking at, Mulder?”

“You’re looking at an example of what might happen if a couple is not compatible.  There’s an online Usenet group dedicated to finding matches for anyone who’s had, let’s say, experiences with the tree that have left them unrequited.”

“Unrequited?”

Mulder scrolls through the next few slides without comment.  There’s another photo of the side of a woman’s face with what appears at first to be a small pinecone earring, but on closer look the pinecone is actually attached to the earlobe.  There’s another of a hand, masculine this time, with veins that look like tree roots creeping up from wrist to knuckles.  The last one is a forearm covered with a thin layer of moss.

“They say the only way to reverse the effects is by true love’s touch.”

“True love’s touch,” she repeats.

“Hope you’ve got your hiking boots ready and an overnight bag in the car,” he says, clicking over to an aerial photo of a forest.  “We’re headed to a little town on the outskirts of Crawford Notch State Park.”

She tries not to sigh in response.

*****

The flight to Manchester is less than two hours and they arrive just before noon.  Scully has flipped through the file Mulder gave to her, and though the clippings make for amusing anecdotes, she sees nothing noteworthy or remarkable.

“What exactly is your interest in this case,” Scully asks, buckling her seatbelt after she takes her usual navigational seat in their rental car.  “Not that I even believe there actually is a case here, let alone an x-file.”

“You don’t think it’s unusual just how many couples cite that tree as a turning point in their relationships?”

“Not really.”

“You’re not even a little curious?”

“About what?”

“The tree.”

“Quite honestly, I’m far more curious about what you’re going to buy me for lunch than I am about a matchmaking tree.”

He chuckles.  “Ah, well, lucky for you our first stop happens to be a diner not too far from here.”

“Yes, lucky me.”

*****

The diner resembles a small cabin and is nestled amongst the trees off the side of the road.  She doesn’t want to admit it, but the drive so far has been beautiful.  The highway is narrow and tree-lined and it’s autumn.  Miles upon miles of yellows and reds and golds and greens and oranges.  To say that the road is picturesque would be an understatement.

The little cabin-diner is warm and cozy.  A wood-burning stove is on in one corner, easily heating the small space.  There’s a long counter with swivel-seats dividing the cabin in half, lengthwise, and four booths pressed up against the front windows, two on either side of the door.  Only one man sits at the counter, sipping coffee and reading a newspaper.  He looks up briefly when Mulder and Scully enter, but immediately returns his attention to his newspaper.

A waitress in an emerald green, button-down dress and starch white apron comes out from behind the counter with two menus.  She smiles congenially as she says good afternoon and waves to the booths.

“Take your pick,” she says.

Mulder looks to Scully and she sees him glance at the counter.  She nods and cuts her eyes to the nametag pinned above the pocket of the woman’s uniform.  “The counter is fine,” she says.  “Janet.”

“Sure.”  Janet turns and her blonde curls bounce lightly against her back.  Her shoes squeak as she makes her way back to the other side of the counter and places the menus down side by side.

“What do you recommend?” Mulder asks.

“Can’t ever go wrong with a burger,” Janet answers, pulling an order booklet out of her apron pocket.  “But, the special today is meatloaf.  And the soup is tomato bisque.”

“I’ll do the burger.  Medium well.  Is that pie under that dome back there?”

“Pecan.”

“More of a sweet potato guy.”

“Yeah, me too.  Well, sweet potato girl.”  Janet laughs and winks and Mulder chuckles and nods.

Scully clears her throat and slaps her menu down on the counter so hard that Mulder jumps.  “I’ll have the chicken salad,” she says, pushing the menu towards Janet.  “Balsamic vinaigrette on the side, if you have it.”

“Sure.”

Janet swipes the menus from the counter, scribbles their orders down and rips the paper from the pad to slide it through a small window behind her.  Scully adjusts her napkin and cutlery as Mulder swivels towards her and leans in close with his elbow on the counter and his hand across his forehead.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you being hostile to the witness.”

“The witness?”

Mulder inclines his head towards Janet and then raises his eyebrows.  “Did you even read the file?”

“I gave it a glance.”

“Janet is one of the unrequited.”

“Too bad for Janet.”

Mulder narrows his eyes a little at her and puckers his lips to form a question.  She doesn’t know why she’s suddenly feeling so catty, she just does.  No, that’s not true.  She does know why she’s feeling catty.  The past year her partnership has felt like a game of ping pong, bouncing between extreme highs and extreme lows.  And the wedge that was driven between them by Diana Fowley, may she rest in peace, is not far enough in the rear view mirror for her liking.  They’re on the mend, both professionally and personally, but she still can’t help but feel threatened in some way when Mulder turns the charm on with strangers.

“I’ll stop being hostile if you stop flirting,” she blurts out, regretting not only what she’s just said, but the way in which it flies out of her mouth.

“Flirting?”

“Forget it.”

“Flirting?”

“Nevermind.”  

Mulder straightens in his seat and puts both hands flat on the counter.  Scully rolls her shoulders back and tucks her chin down.  She lets her hair fall across her cheeks to hide her embarrassment.  Janet is suddenly there in front of them again, two glasses of water in her hands.

“Didn’t even ask if you folks wanted something to drink,” she says.

“Got any iced tea?” Mulder asks.

“Sure do.”

“Two lemons, please.”

“And for the lady?”

“I’ll just have the water, thank you,” Scully says.

Janet is gone for what feels like only seconds before she’s bringing a glass of iced tea to Mulder and a small glass dish of lemon slices.  Mulder thanks her warmly and for some reason, that makes Scully feel even more chagrined.

“Janet,” Mulder says, reaching into the interior breast pocket of his jacket to grab his ID.  “My name is Agent Mulder and this is Agent Scully.  My partner and I are actually on an assignment right now that you might be able to help us with.”

“Me?”

“Have you ever been out to see a tree they call The Matchmaker?”

The smile on Janet’s face wavers and then fades into a frown.  She stands stock still for a few moments and then grabs a rag from the side of the counter as though she’s about to clean something, but then just twists it nervously her hands.

“What do you know about it?” she asks.

“Not much, which is why we’re here.  We know from our preliminary investigation that you’re amongst the group that calls yourselves the unrequited.”

Janet nods slowly.  “That’s not...a crime, is it?”

“No, no.  We’re trying to determine if you might be the victim of one though.  It’s my understanding your contact with the tree has left you with some sort of affliction.”

Janet nods again and then hesitates before tucking the rag in her hands into her waistband and coming around the counter.  Both Mulder and Scully turn in their seats and Janet turns her back to both of them.  She lifts the hair up off her neck and it’s then that Scully’s interest is finally piqued.  The back of Janet’s neck is rough and scaly, resembling tree bark.  Scully whips a pair of latex gloves from her pocket and leans closer to Janet.

“Do you mind if I…?” Scully asks.

Janet glances over her shoulder at Scully, looks at the gloves she’s pulling on, and then nods her head.  “Go ahead,” she answers.

“Agent Scully is a medical doctor,” Mulder says, unnecessarily.  

Scully gently prods the ridges at the back of Janet’s neck.  It appears as though the skin is very dry and may flake away, but in reality it’s very thick and does not give at all.  Mulder hovers over Scully, his chin nearly touching her shoulder.

“It could be an allergic reaction,” Scully says.  “It appears to be a localized eczema.  Have you seen a dermatologist?”

“I’ve been to every dermatologist in the area,” Janet answers, dropping her hair and turning back around.  “They’ve done biopsies, tried laser removal, creams, gels, cryotherapy, the whole nine yards.  No one knows what it is or how to treat it.”

“And you think the tree that Agent Mulder mentioned earlier has something to do with this?”

“Oh, I know it does.  I was foolish enough to ignore the warnings and so...well, now I’m one of the unrequited.”

“I see.”

“Can you walk us through how it happened?” Mulder asks.

“It was about five years ago now, I was a senior in high school.  Me and my boyfriend at the time, Anthony, we thought it would be like a funny thing to do just before graduation.  We’d been together all through high school, grown up on the same block, and we were planning on getting married the next fall.”

Scully lets her eyes drop momentarily to Janet’s hands and notes the absence of a ring on her finger.  

“You knew of the stories before you went up there?” Mulder asks.

“Oh yeah,” Janet answers.  “I mean, if you’re from around here, you hear all about it from the time you’re a kid.  And everyone wants to brag about it, you know?  You hear from all your friends, my parents touched The Matchmaker and then got married, but no one wants to talk about the other side of it.”

“You and Anthony?” Scully asks.  “You never married?”

“Well, how could we?  He wasn’t the one.”

“According to the tree.”

“If it was true love, I wouldn’t be afflicted.”

“You really believe that?”

Janet points to her neck.  “I didn’t until this happened.”

“You didn’t believe in the legend when you went there?” Mulder asks.

“Not really.  Who would believe that a tree could do this?”

“You folks need to talk to Hattie Vale,” the man at the other end of the counter suddenly pipes up, even though he doesn’t even look up from his newspaper.

“Hattie Vale?” Mulder asks, swiveling in his seat to face the older man.

“Mmhm.”  He nods once and turns the page of his paper.  “That cursed tree is part of her legacy.  Janet, I’ll take my check now, if you please.”

“You got it, Wallace.”  Janet gives Scully a wry smile before she heads behind the counter again, ripping a page out of her booklet.

“Can you tell us how to find Miss Vale?” Mulder asks.

“Take the red bridge about a mile inside the entrance of Crawford Notch. Sign’ll say private property, but it’s just to try to keep looky-loos away from the tree.”  Wallace takes a few bills out of his wallet and puts them on the counter.  “Thank you, Janet.”

“See you tomorrow,” Janet says.

“Miss Vale lives out by the tree?” Mulder asks.

Wallace folds his newspaper and then stands and tucks it under his arm.  “Go right at the fork, that’ll take you to Hattie.  Go left, that’ll take you to The Matchmaker.  And take my advice, don’t touch that tree.”  

“You have a personal experience you’d like to share with us?”

“No.”  Wallace pulls a hat out from his jacket pocket, slaps it on his head, and walks out of the diner.

“Why do I not believe him?” Mulder says to Scully as he turns back to face the counter.

*****

Hattie Vale’s home is exactly where Wallace says it would be.  While the diner was a faux cabin, Hattie’s place is the real deal.  Scully would not be surprised if it did not have running water or electricity.

The woman that greets them on the porch is both ancient and spry.  She’s stocky and squarely built, wearing a thin housedress and a hand-knit sweater and moccasins on her feet.  Two long, grey braids fall over her shoulders to her hips.  Her face is sunburnt and weathered, deep lines in her forehead and at the sides of her mouth.  She grins broadly, revealing a handful of missing teeth.

“I had a feeling I might get visitors today,” she says.  “And here you folks are.”

“Are you Hattie Vale?” Mulder asks.

“Sure am.  Who’s asking?”

“My name is Agent Mulder, this is Agent Scully.”  He stops at the edge of the porch and holds up his badge and Scully does the same.

“That supposed to impress me or something?”

“Ah, no Ma’am,” Mulder says, chuckling as he tucks his ID back into his pocket.  “We’re investigating some unexplained afflictions associated with a tree in these parts referred to as The Matchmaker.”

“You’re about three centuries too late for that, bub.”

“Forgive me for my tardiness.”

Hattie laughs heartily at Mulder’s joke and Scully has to fight not to roll her eyes at him when he gives a pleased grin in her direction.

“Come on in, I got coffee I can put on.”

“That’s not necessary, Mrs. Vale, we only want to ask a few questions,” Scully says.

“Come on in anyway, let me put my feet up.”

Mulder hops up the stairs onto the porch and Scully trudges up behind him.  She’s surprised to find that the cabin actually does have electricity and is fairly tidy and well-furnished.  The large room is a combination kitchen, dining area and living space.  Hand-woven rugs are strategically placed on the wood floors.  Knitted blankets are draped over the couch and a lounge chair.  There’s no TV, but there is a transistor radio perched on a folding tray next to the chair.

Hattie plops herself down into the lounger and pulls a lever to extend the footrest.  She leans back with her hands over her belly and flexes her toes inside her moccasins.

“How long have you lived out here?” Mulder asks, waiting for Scully to take a seat before he perches himself at the edge of the couch.

“Well, I was born here, so I figured I might as well die here too, but I did move out to Vermont for a time when I got married.  After I raised my kids and my husband passed, I thought it was as good of time as any to come back.  That would’ve been somewhere around 1942, I think.”

“That was fifty-seven years ago,” Mulder says.  “You had already raised your kids and been widowed by then?”

Hattie laughs again.  “I was born in 1885.”

“You’re 114 years old?”

“Don’t look a day over 100, do I?”  She wiggles her shoulders a little and lifts her brows.  Even Scully has to smile in amusement.

“Mrs. Vale,” Scully starts.

“Hattie, please.  Never liked formalities.  So stuffy.”

“Hattie, can you tell us anything about the tree?”

“Maybe why some might say it’s cursed,” Mulder adds, and Scully grimaces.

“A curse?  Bah.  Sounds like you’ve been talking to my grandson.”

“Who’s your grandson?” Mulder asks.

“Name is Wallace Byrd.  He’s my girl Rosemary’s boy.”

Mulder and Scully give each other a glance.  “We did...happen to run into someone named Wallace,” Mulder says.

“Wally had a bad go of it when he was a young man.  He blames the tree for it, silly boy.”

“So, you don’t think it’s cursed?”

“Not at all, the tree is blessed, if anything.”

“Do you happen to know how it came to be blessed?”

“Oh yes, I can tell you exactly how it came to be.”

There’s a twinkle in Hattie’s eyes as she starts to tell the story of the tree, one that makes Scully even more dubious and Mulder even more interested.

“My four times great grandfather, Jean-Luc Benoit, came to this area from Quebec City in the first half of the 1700s,” Hattie says.  “There was a Winnipesaukee tribe that lived nearby and they traded goods often.  Jean-Luc fell in love with a squaw from the village called Little Flower, and she with him, much to her father’s dismay.  Sensing that Jean-Luc was going to ask for his blessing to marry his daughter, her father met with some of the elders of the village and they told him he would have to ask the white man to pass a test of his true love if he were to take one of their women away.”

Mulder nods encouragingly at Hattie and then grins at Scully.  His enjoyment of the tale is palpable.  She keeps her gaze straight ahead, afraid she might slip and very unprofessionally roll her eyes at him.

“Little Flower’s father took the advice of the elders,” Hattie continues.  “Except, he decided he was going to give the would-be suitor an impossible task.  He told Jean-Luc to plant a seed, and only when that seed had flourished and become a tree, could he have his daughter’s hand in marriage.  Jean-Luc said his love was unhurried and he would plant the tree and wait as long as it took.  A ceremony was held for the planting and to everyone’s astonishment, the tree grew overnight.”    

“Overnight?” Mulder asks.  “Incredible.”

“I’ll say,” Scully murmurs.

“But, that wasn’t to be the end of it,” Hattie says.  “Little Flower’s father was distraught by the turn of events.  Instead of turning to the elders as he had before, this time he went directly to the tree, believing the Gods may have grown the tree as punishment for his trickery.  He apologized for his wrongdoing and pleaded with the tree for a sign that would show him that Jean-Luc was worthy.  When he went home, his village was in chaos.  They told him that right before their eyes, his daughter had started growing leaves where her hair was and roots where her feet were and that she reached up to the sky and her arms became limbs and her fingers became branches.”

“She turned into a tree?” Mulder asks.

“So they say.  Little Flower’s father was distraught and horrified.  He tried pulling her feet from the earth, but the roots just grew deeper.  When he saw that he could do nothing, he ran to Jean-Luc and asked for his help.  The instant that Jean-Luc touched the tree that Little Flower had become, she was restored to her human self.”

“And since then, people have come to ask the tree to show them who their true love is?” Mulder asks.

“That’s about right.  Mostly locals though, passing the story along to their children and grandchildren.”

“Mrs. Vale, Hattie, are you aware of any pesticides that may have been sprayed around the tree or perhaps any poisonous foliage that might surround the area?” Scully asks.

Hattie shrugs.  “Been years since I’ve been out by that tree.  The state took that part of the land years ago when they formed the park.”

“Have you heard about people coming away from the tree with afflictions?” Mulder asks.  “Skin problems, or physical ailments of some kind?  You said your grandson, Wallace, believes the tree to be cursed.  Has he been suffering from an ailment after contact?”

“Ailments?  No.  Broken heart is more like it.  Wallace brought his sweetheart out to the tree before he proposed.  He was a believer in the legend and said the tree showed him that Corrine, that was his girl, was his true love.  A week before their wedding she was killed in an automobile accident.  He never got over it.  Now, he thinks the tree cursed him to a life alone.  I tried to tell him many times not to take stock in that tale.  It’s just a tale, after all.”

“So, you don’t believe in the legend?” Mulder asks.

“Believe in a tree that grows overnight and wraps a girl up in branches?”  Hattie laughs.  “You’d have to be crazy to believe in that kind of thing.”

It’s Scully’s turn to grin and Mulder smiles good-naturedly.  He stands, and Scully does as well.  

“Thank you for your time,” Scully says.

“Could you tell us, what’s the best way to reach the tree from here?”

“Once you cross back over the bridge head due west.  The ‘no trespassing’ signs should lead you right to it.”

*****

It really is a stunning tree, Scully thinks, as they stand before it.  The photos didn’t do it justice.  The sun shines onto the top of the tree, making it look alive with red-purple flames.  The branches curve out and the leaves cascade like a waterfall.  The field grass flutters in the wind like a golden wave around their feet and the leaves of all the trees that surround them shake and rustle.  She has to brush her hair from her eyes and away from her cheeks.

“Well, I guess we should take a look,” Mulder says.

“What is it that we’re looking for?” she asks.

“You tell me.”

“I don’t know, Mulder, I’m not a botanist.  Plants aren’t something I ever took a strong interest in.  I’m not even sure I’d truly be able to identify poison ivy if I came across it.”

“Leaves of three, let them be.”  Mulder smiles as he pulls on a pair of gloves.  “Something we used to say as kids to avoid it when we were camping.”

“And somehow I’m guessing you still managed to pull your share of rashes.”

“I don’t know where these baseless accusations are coming from, but I will neither confirm nor deny the generous supply of Calamine Lotion my mother kept on hand for such occasions.”

Scully snorts softly and pulls her own pair of gloves on.  Mulder is already crouching before the tree, running his hand over the dirt. He picks up a fallen leaf and twirls it by the stem.

“It looks like a heart,” he tells her, turning it upside down and holding it up between pinched fingers.  He’s right.  

“Bag it,” Scully says, handing him a plastic bag.  “We’ll need soil samples as well.  Maybe scrape some bark off as well.”

“I take it your theory is the tree is toxic?”

“Perhaps.”

“Mmhm.”  Mulder seals up the leaf and stands back up.  “Any of those poisonous plants you mentioned before known to cause skin irritations for over five years?”

“Mulder, I’m fairly certain that contact with this tree is merely coincidence.  Take Janet, for example, she could have daily exposure to an allergen without even knowing it, causing that rash at the back of her neck, her laundry detergent, for example.”

“Something that all of the dermatologists she’s been to have failed to diagnose?”

“I’m only saying that there are more probable explanations for why someone would develop a skin irritation than a centuries old legend.”

“Probable, but not implausible,” he says.

“Mulder, you’re crazy,” she answers with a shake of her head and a small laugh.

He pockets the plastic-wrapped leaf and then walks away from her to circle the tree.  Scully studies the lush mane of leaves, trying to determine the best possible way to part them and reach the trunk.  She puts her hands into a gap and a few birds fly up and out of the tree in a panic, their wings flapping wildly.  She jumps back, heart racing.  A sudden breeze ruffles the back of her hair and she shivers.  Goosebumps prick her arms, but she isn’t cold.  Her shoulder pulls up automatically as the inside of her ear is tickled with what feels like a soft whisper.

“Mulder?”  She turns, but no one is there.  She hurries to the other side of the three and spots Mulder a few yards away, looking up into the white pines that border the clearing.

Scully turns back to the tree and finds another gap in the leaves to part.  She cautiously pushes them aside and finds she’s able to lift a section back and step under the canopy of branches.  Hunching slightly, she pulls her pocketknife out and scrapes a bit of bark from the thin trunk and bags it.  She crouches down to collect some dirt as well.  As she straightens her knees, her heel comes back and catches on a tree root and she stumbles.  Her first instinct is to throw her arm out and her hand smacks into the tree trunk.  She can feel the bark bite into her palm through her glove and the inside of her wrist is scraped in her efforts to prevent herself from falling.

“Dammit,” she mutters, wobbling into her hunched position and letting go of the tree.  She pulls the sleeve of her blazer up to inspect her hand.  There’s debris on her glove and the inside of her wrist is scratched red, but the skin wasn’t broken and she’s not bleeding.  She rotates her wrist a few times and fortunately it doesn’t feel sprained, just a little sore.

“Scully!” Mulder calls.

“Yeah,” she answers, warily.

“Where are you?”

“In here.”  She can hear the crunching of the field grasses and leaves underfoot as Mulder approaches.  She pulls the cuff of her sleeve down over her wrist before pushing the leaves aside like drapery and steps out from the canopy.

“You have…”  Mulder approaches and reaches up to pluck a leaf from her hair.

“Thanks.”

“It matches,” he says, twirling the red leaf softly against the ends of her hair.

A breeze comes up again and that same whisper and tickle of her ear returns.  She shivers again and moves her hand up to take the leaf from Mulder, but he pulls it back and puts it in his pocket.

“Find anything interesting?” he asks.

“Bagged up some bark and some dirt.”

“You ask the tree if it was cursed?”

“I did.”

“What was the answer?”

“Stop letting your crackpot partner talk you into fruitless jaunts to the forest.”

Mulder chuckles.  “There is some poison oak in the woods up there.  You’ll be happy to know I steered clear.”

“Wonderful,” she says, wincing as her wrist burns slightly when she peels off her gloves.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You think those are storm clouds rolling in over there?”

She nods slightly, rotating her wrist in her pocket.  It’s beginning to itch.

“I guess we should probably head out then?”

“No argument from me.”

*****

They leave New Hampshire with nothing more than the samples and family legends.  Mulder finally accepts there isn’t much of a case to be had, especially when they can’t find any other afflicted locals to speak with, and they return home.  They run the samples through the lab, but the results don’t account for any toxins.

A week passes and Scully’s wrist doesn’t seem to stop itching.  It’s at its worst during the day at work and seems to calm at night when she goes home.  She sees a dermatologist who can’t find anything wrong, but gives her a prescription for an anti-itch cream that does nothing to help.

They’re out of town again, on a case in Iowa.  She shouldn’t be relieved to be doing autopsies again, but it’s been awhile since she’s been in a morgue and not out in the field.  She’s either too busy to notice her itching wrist, or it miraculously ceases to bother her for the day.  When she’s back at the motel, having a pizza dinner over crime scene photos and witness statements, her whole hand starts to feel like it’s on fire.  She excuses herself from the table and shuts herself in the bathroom.

By all outward appearances, nothing is wrong with her wrist.  It’s not inflamed, it’s not scratched, it’s not even red anymore, but her skin crawls.  She holds it up to the light and takes a closer look, running her thumb across the line where wrist meets palm.  There does seem to be a slight bump where there wasn’t one before.  She checks her left wrist in comparison and then the right one again.  When she scratches at the little bump with her nail, she can actually feel a slight pull under her skin.  She pushes at it with her thumbnail and then her skin ruptures and what looks like the stem of a leaf emerges.

“Oh my god,” she whispers.  There is a pair of tweezers in her toiletry kit that she finds and then plucks lightly at the stemp, but it doesn’t budge.  It doesn’t hurt and it doesn’t bleed and no matter how hard she pulls, the stem is immobile.  After only a few minutes she’s nearly in tears with frustration.  She wipes her watering eyes dry and then goes back to the table to rejoin Mulder.

“I need to show you something,” she says.

Mulder pauses with his hands full of photos and looks at her.  He sets them down and then wipes his hands on his pants and leans forward, elbows on the table.  “Okay,” he says.  “Show me.”

Scully pulls the sleeve of her shirt up and drapes her hand across the table, wrist up.  Mulder looks down at her hand and then up at her.  He moves his face closer to her arm and tilts his head from side to side.

“What am I looking at?” he asks.

“When we were in New Hampshire, I scraped my hand on that tree.”

“The Matchmaker?”

“Yes.  It wasn’t a bad scrape, no skin was broken, but since then, my wrist has not stopped itching.”

“What is that?”

“I don’t...I don’t know.  I tried using my tweezers on it, but it wouldn’t come out.”

Mulder picks up Scully’s hand with both of his and runs his thumbs across the bottom of her palm.  Her whole arm tingles when he touches her and she can feel something move beneath her skin.  

“It feels like...I’m not sure...”  Mulder puts a little more pressure on Scully’s wrist and slides one of his thumbs up to her palm.  Suddenly it feels like her whole hand opens up somehow and something unfurls out of her wrist like a butterfly to rest in her palm.  It’s a red, heart-shaped leaf.

They’re both silent, staring down at her hand, at the leaf.  Her arm still tingles and she sways slightly, lightheaded.   “Mulder…how did…?”

“I don’t know.”

“What just happened, Mulder, it’s impossible.”

“Well, there is one explanation.”

“Don’t say it.”

“You touched the tree.”

“A tree didn’t do this, Mulder.”  She jumps up from the table, determined to pull the leaf from her hand, but it’s stuck to the stem and the stem won’t budge.  “I need scissors.”

“Well wait, maybe you should see a doctor.”

“I am a doctor!”  She rushes back into the bathroom to get the small scissors from her toiletry bag.  Mulder follows behind and watches as she attempts to cut at the leaf and the stem, but the scissors just slide right off of the leaf as though it refuses to be cut.

“Stop,” Mulder says, putting his hands on her shoulders.  “Come on.”

“Mulder, there is a leaf growing out of my hand!”

“I can see that, come out here.”

Mulder guides her out of the bathroom back to the table, but she doesn’t want to sit.  She stares at her palm and at the leaf while Mulder sits and then he brings her towards him with his hands on her hips.

“Let me see,” he says.  

Scully reluctantly shows him her hand and he holds it gently, tracing the shape of the leaf in her palm with his index finger.  He pinches the leaf between his fingers and pulls gently and the stem slides out of her wrist without any effort at all.  When it’s completely free of her hand, she feels something wash over her that she can only describe as utter euphoria.  She sways slightly on her feet, leaning into Mulder and putting her hands on his shoulders to hold herself up.

“Scully?”  The leaf flutters to the ground as he grabs her hips.

“Oh, I feel…”

“Sit down.”  He stands and tries to urge her to sit, but she holds onto his arms and shakes her head.

“No, I…”  She feels overwhelmed by something she can’t describe, but the force with which she aches to be as close to Mulder as possible is powerful.  It’s like she can’t breathe, but he is oxygen.  It’s like she’s freezing and he’s a warm fire.

“I really think you should sit down,” he whispers.

“Mulder,” she says, blinking lethargically.  Her voice is slow and her eyes are heavy.  “If it was the tree, then that would mean…”

Mulder puckers his lips a little and his chin juts forward as he swallows.  “It would mean whatever you want it to mean,” he says.

Her heart hammers in her chest.  She tingles from head to toe, but especially where his hands grip her hips and where his arms press against hers.  She opens her mouth a few times, but doesn’t know what to say.

“I heard you, you know,” he says.

“Heard me?”

“When I was exposed to the artifact.”  He lets go of her with one hand to reach up and lightly touch his fingers to her forehead.  “I heard you.  I don’t need an enchanted tree to tell me what I already know.”

She should feel embarrassed, and maybe two months ago she would have, maybe even two minutes ago, she would have, but not now.  She drops her gaze to his mouth and then she looks up into his eyes again.  By some unspoken, mutual agreement, they both lean in.  Mulder bends and tips his head to the right, Scully lifts onto her toes and lets her eyes slip shut just before his mouth touches hers.  The kiss is soft and unhurried.  It’s tender and sweet in a way that makes her feel warm and secure.

“I can’t believe this is real,” she whispers against his lips.

“What part of it?”

“All of it.”

“Of course you don’t.”  He chuckles and bends down to pick up the leaf he dropped.  He twirls it between his fingers and then brushes it against her nose.

“It’s just not possible.”

“All of it?”  He cocks his head a little and his eyes fall to her mouth.

“Maybe not all of it.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m having a hard time believing it myself.”

“Which part?”

“All of it.”  He smiles, and bends to kiss her again, but she leans away and puts two fingers against his lips.

“Why did you take me up there?” she asks.

“I’ve owed you a nice trip to the forest for about seven years.”

“Is that all?”  

“Autumn in New England?  I only wish we could’ve found something worthwhile to stick around a little longer.”

“So, you never intended for…”

“For you to start becoming part tree?  Not at all.”

“Oh my god, I just can’t...I can’t wrap my brain around it.  It’s…”  She covers her face with both hands and shakes her head.

Mulder kisses the knuckles on her right hand.  “You wouldn’t be you if you believed it.  Once upon a time there was a very skeptic little g-woman named Scully.”

“You are not allowed to start any stories with ‘once upon a time’ any longer,” she says, taking her hands away from her face.  “Bad things happen in fairy tales.”

“Well you are forgetting one thing though.”

“What?”

“They always end with ‘happily ever after.’”

The End