#and the party found it while they were trying to stage an intervention for her frankly suicidal idolation with making heros out of them

[brbgensokyo]

the song that inspired Amy's Answering machine bit came up on shufffle and now im very sad. Despite what the rumours would have you believe I did like her as a character and it hurt to beat her like that

[seasurfacefullofclouds1]

https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/stephaniesoteriou/lottie-tomlinson-painful-details-louis-sister-death Reading this and thinking about how emotional he was with Anthony in txf who was also struggling with addiction at the same time as his sister

As the article stated, Lottie felt that Fizzy’s situation with drugs wasn’t mainly addiction, but also her mental health and grieving.

As the oldest two children, Lottie says that she and Louis tried to support all of their siblings as much as they could while also processing their own grief, and were especially concerned about Félicité, who she affectionately calls “Fizz.”

While Daisy and Phoebe moved in with their grandparents after their mom’s death, and Doris and Ernest remained with their dad, Félicité chose to return to her London boarding school.

Lottie notes that their mom never would have chosen to have any of her children go to boarding school, but honored Félicité’s wishes when she asked to transfer to one a couple of years earlier.

Following Johannah’s death, Lottie started to receive calls from the school saying that she hadn’t returned or had missed curfew.

“I think that was the first time I realized how bad the situation was with Fizz, and as time went on, we noticed her distancing herself from the family or going missing for a few days and not responding to messages,” Lottie writes. “We could also see that Fizz was starting to hang around people who we didn’t think were a good influence on her.”

Lottie says that she and Louis then realized that Fizz was taking drugs while partying more, adding: “She seemed to be doing anything she could to escape the pain of losing the only person who ever understood her.”

Keen to relieve some of the pressure from their grandparents, the two siblings took it upon themselves to try and get Félicité the help she needed.

“Louis and I were doing everything we could to stage interventions, and as far as Nan and Granddad were concerned, Louis and I decided not to worry them too much because they had the big twins to look after,” Lottie writes. “They were also from an older generation and we didn't think they'd have understood the nature of what Fizz was going through or how she was dealing with it.”

“That's not to say that Louis and I could understand what Fizz was going through either,” she adds. “Neither of us had the kind of mental health issues or dependence on drugs that our baby sister had.”

Lottie says that she and Louis “really had to dig deep” to try to understand their sister, and admits that they both “went through stages of frustration” because they were so desperate for her “to be healthy and happy.”

Eventually, Félicité was asked to leave her boarding school, and while Lottie invited her to move into her London apartment, Félicité declined.

“She didn’t want that knowing that she wouldn’t have the freedom to escape in the ways she knew how,” Lottie explains. “I found it hard that she didn’t want my help, even if what I was offering wasn’t going to solve her problems. At the end of the day, I wasn’t Mum, I couldn’t give her what she needed, but it obviously didn’t stop me from trying.”

Félicité ended up temporarily moving in with One Direction’s former hair and makeup artist and Tomlinson family friend Lou Teasdale, and Lottie tried to get her sister on the right path by arranging work for her.

She and Louis also encouraged Félicité to see a therapist, but after one meeting with one, she refused to go back. They also sent their sister to rehab “a couple of times,” although Lottie admits that she “never thought” the issue was to do with addiction.

“I’ve always felt she turned to drugs because of her grief,” she writes. “Because it offered her a temporary release. We sent her there thinking we could get her back onto a good path, and after those stints, she’d come out a more positive person, but it was only a matter of time before she reverted to the only way she knew how to cope.”

And while Lou was happy to keep Félicité at her house full-time, Félicité moved into her own apartment after her last stint in rehab. Lottie recalls: “That’s when she started slipping from all of us. We couldn’t really keep track of her after that.”

In March 2019, Lottie had a trip to Bali booked with her then-boyfriend. While she offered to stay behind, Félicité insisted she was OK and encouraged her to go. Three days into the trip, Lottie heard that Félicité had gone missing.

She then details sitting on her hotel balcony when she received a call from Louis to tell her that their sister had died.

“I just remember screaming because it was the worst news I could’ve ever heard,” Lottie writes.

She describes the pain as “all consuming,” and says that despite Félicité’s obvious struggles, she “never thought we would lose her.”

Lottie says that the subsequent “invasive” media storm that followed Félicité’s death “added another sad level to our already awful grief” as she recalled the way that the public seemingly judged Félicité for taking drugs.

“So many people were quick to judge Fizz without fully understanding the situation, or the pain she had been through,” she says.

Lottie goes on to say that she started to see a therapist for the first time after the tragedy, and it was then that she realized that she also hadn’t processed her mom’s death.

Offering a glimmer of hope to others who have been bereaved, Lottie acknowledges that she once thought that she would never experience happiness again.

While she still misses her mom and sister every day, Lottie says that she has created a beautiful life with her family, and even goes so far as to consider herself “lucky” in spite of all of her hardships.

Elsewhere in Lucky Girl, Lottie opens up about the tragic death of her mom, details the two years that she spent on tour with One Direction when she was just 16 years old, recalls how her family’s life changed with Louis’s ascent to superstardom, and shares how she carved a successful influencer career for herself.

Lottie also offers readers plenty of incredibly valuable tools and advice for navigating grief, and discusses her role as an ambassador for Sue Ryder, a bereavement support charity.

Fizzy was a thinker, philosophically and politically aware even as a young teen. Remembering how Lottie described Fizzy as an overachiever and “straight A student,” and remembering how articulate and intelligent Fizzy always had been from a young age, the way she described herself as being closest to Louis, and then drifting away as Louis tried to keep her close, I can’t help but imagine the isolation, loneliness, and despair she felt after Jay died. I remember that in 2018, Fizzy was trying to launch her own clothing brand and got all of her siblings’ initials tattooed on her arm. She was suffering and lost, but trying to hold on to normalcy and still very much loved by her family.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Initiative - aka NMJ and JYL get engaged - ao3 or tumblr pt 1, pt 2

Jiang Yanli’s first engagement had been announced when she was three and a half years old – there had been a big party, festooned in color, exquisitely and meticulously planned out in advance, and she’d been obliged to stand on stage next to a baby in a cradle that had done nothing but cry and spit as all the adults around her congregated and congratulated each other on the excellent match.

She hadn’t enjoyed that at all.

Her second wedding announcement was simultaneously more casual and more noteworthy, and she enjoyed it tremendously. 

Madame Jin had sent several invitations to Jiang Yanli to come visit Lanling in advance of the hunt planned for Phoenix Mountain, speaking of how beautiful it was and how much she looked forward to seeing her good friend’s daughter – talking about she’d always regretted how Jiang Yanli had been obligated by circumstances to take shelter at the Unclean Realm rather than in Lanling City, although she’d been pleased to hear from her son that she was doing well – all the right sort of words. The words might have been more welcome if Jiang Yanli hadn’t known that Madame Jin was still intent on securing the marriage she had arranged.

If she hadn’t been engaged, she would have accepted the invitation, hoping to form an alliance for her sect through a close relationship with Madame Jin even if she didn’t have one with Jin Zixuan (no matter what Madame Jin hoped), but as she was, in fact, engaged to another – even if it hadn’t been formally announced – it would be inappropriate to go. So she instead played ignorant and responded graciously, protesting that she couldn’t possibly impose, that the rebuilding at the Lotus Pier needed her, but that she would of course be happy to attend the hunt alongside the rest of her sect.

She arrived at her brother’s side, smiling all the while.

Her second engagement was announced like this: Sect Leader Jin, using his newly legitimized son as his mouthpiece, had brought forward some ghastly ‘entertainment’ that involved shooting at helpless prisoners, tied up in chains. Jin Zixuan had complied, but Wei Wuxian had marched out and disrupted everything by showing off to a ridiculous extent – Nie Mingjue, who had been watching with a black face full of rage but unable to speak due to propriety, had started applauding very loudly and very enthusiastically – and Sect Leader Jin had ordered the prisoners taken away.

“Well, then,” he said, clapping as if he had impressed himself: as if they hadn’t just been subjected to a powerplay under the guise of hospitality, as if everyone would be over-awed by his might now that they had seen him abuse the helpless while they were all forced by the rules of etiquette to say nothing or else risk carrying the blame for trying to start another war. “Absent anything else, we should proceed to the hunt itself, where await you only the finest of prey and the sharpest competition among your peers.”

For the further display of the power of the Jin sect, he meant.

“Actually,” Nie Mingjue said, interjecting in a moment in which Sect Leader Jin had paused to take a breath so that it was technically not an interruption, “there is one thing. A request, in fact.”

Sect Leader Jin’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he maintained his false smile. “Of course, Sect Leader Nie. What can I do for you?”

“I’m getting married,” Nie Mingjue said. “The bride is Young Mistress Jiang, of Yunmeng Jiang, and I would like –” He raised his voice to overcome the abrupt explosion of talk that had erupted. “– I would like to have her accompany my sect in today’s hunt. I hope that doesn’t interfere with your plans for a competition between the sects?”

There were those who said that Jiang Yanli’s chosen husband was bad at politics, and they might even be right. But it didn’t really matter in the end if he’d thought of the idea on a whim or if it’d been a prearranged plan by Nie Huaisang, who was cleverer than he liked to let on to people, Jiang Yanli’s future husband had still wiped away in a single sentence all memory of the farce they’d all just endured and of the hunt that was yet to come, ensuring that the only thing anyone would remember about today was the shocking news of the engagement of the leader of one Great Sect to the sister of another.

(And if everyone remembered that at the last celebration hosted by Sect Leader Jin, he had proposed to resurrect the marriage between Jiang Yanli and his own son, instead, forcing her to publicly demur on vague terms…well, that just made it all the more satisfying.)

Now it was Sect Leader Jin’s turn to scowl and glare, and Madame Jin’s expression looked no less thunderous, but in the end Jiang Yanli got to go with the Nie sect on the hunt.

“You know I’ll only slow you down,” she said to Nie Mingjue, who snorted.

“No more than Huaisang will,” he said, and if his face was stern and his voice gruff then she still thought she detected fondness and humor beneath it. “Besides, it’ll be a good opportunity to measure you.”

It turned out that he meant that more literally than she might have thought.

Jiang Yanli was promptly whisked away to the back of the Nie retinue by a small cadre of Nie disciples, men and women both. She was presented with a number of training sabers shaped out of wood and made to hold them in a variety of positions as they murmured things about stability and reach and balance as if they really, truly thought that she would actually use the saber they were preparing for her.

“This one,” Nie Jiahui, a steely older woman with silver in her hair and fierce eyes, eventually announced, and the practice saber Jiang Yanli had been waving around was taken away. She was then presented with one that was twice as heavy, for “practice”.

“Do you always practice with something heavier than the actual thing?” she asked, and Nie Jiahui nodded.

“Strengthens the shoulders,” she said, curt but not standoffish. “Have some candy.”

Jiang Yanli blinked, but smiled and accepted the offer. It was licorice, which she liked.

“Do you often carry candy with you on night-hunts?” she asked, listening to the sound of fighting from up ahead. Every so often, a disciple or two would trot by carrying the corpses of larger and larger creatures, slain in the fighting; it seemed that the Nie sect was not, in fact, being slowed down in the slightest by her presence.

Of course, she also wasn’t being tended to as if she were their chosen lady, either, as she might have otherwise expected – all pomp and flowery language, Nie Mingjue by her side at all times to show her around as if they were on a pleasure stroll – but in all honesty that would have been a little bewildering. It was very much not the Nie sect’s character, all practical and straightforward, and she found that she preferred it that way.

“It’s important to have something to replenish energy,” Nie Huaisang said, having dropped back to join them from the front. He looked tired and grumpy, but his saber appeared to have been put to some work; he immediately climbed up into the carriage that people were taking turns riding and started cleaning it. “And licorice candy clears the lungs.”

“Clears the lungs?” Jiang Yanli asked.

“It’s good for more than that,” Nie Jiahui said. “But that’s one of the uses, yes. Do you ever feel like your chest is too tight, especially when you move too much? Leading to coughing, shortness of breath, your lips turning blue?”

Jiang Yanli blinked. “Yes,” she said. “But that’s just because I was born with a weak body.”

Nie Jiahui scoffed and Nie Huaisang laughed. “Good luck with that,” he said cheerfully. “I was born with muscles that didn’t keep their tone: too flexible, incapable of gathering strength, requiring more energy to do less, making me twice as tired twice as fast – even sitting up straight can be a struggle in some extreme cases, though luckily not mine. And do you think that helped me one bit in getting out of saber training? It did not.”

“Early childhood intervention is best,” Nie Jiahui said. “But the next best is starting today. I’ll show you some low-impact exercises that you can start working on to strengthen your shoulders and stomach, as well as some balance movements to center yourself and improve your posture – that way, by the time your actual saber is ready, you’ll be able to take it through one of the basic routines.”

“I’m happy to learn whatever you have to teach,” Jiang Yanli said, ignoring Nie Huaisang’s dramatic cry of ‘And here I thought you’d be on my side!’ “I only regret troubling you.”

“Not at all,” Nie Jiahui said. “It’ll be good to have someone watching the Sect Leader’s back on night-hunts.”

Jiang Yanli felt a surge of terror and excitement in her belly. “He would trust me with that? You would trust me with that?”

“I did tell you that you’d need to keep up with him,” Nie Huaisang said mildly, and it was true, he had, only she’d assumed it was a bit more metaphorical. “You don’t have to fight or even walk too much, if it doesn’t suit you – my grandmother was lame in both her legs from a childhood illness, she rode everywhere, scariest woman I’ve ever met by far – but you do have to be there. Someone needs to be able to tell my brother to stop. Someone he’ll listen to.”

And wasn’t that something of a thrill to think of?

Jiang Yanli wasn’t someone anyone listened to – not her parents, not her brother, not her sect disciples. She’d always been the one who comforted them afterwards, who supported them; she made them food and tried to convince them to be kinder to each other, and sometimes they even tried for a while before getting into another tiff. They would kill for her if she so much as hinted at it, tear down the sky for her, but it was more in the nature of indulging her rather than actually allowing them to guide her.

Yet here was Chifeng-zun, a war hero and a sect leader, one of the most powerful men in the world, a man admired by men and sought after (even if only in their hearts) by women, and his family was telling her that he would listen to her.

“If you say so,” she demurred, but they insisted, and by the time the hunt was over Jiang Yanli was surprised to realize that she hadn’t needed to resort to sitting on the carriage more than twice the entire time.

“We’ll send Auntie Jiahui to the Lotus Pier after today’s hunt is done,” Nie Huaisang chattered cheerfully in her ear as they headed back towards Jinlin Tower. “She’ll work you through your paces, believe you me, and all the supplemental things, too – making sure you eat the right thing, take medicinal baths to improve your meridians, apply massages to loosen your joints…those parts are nice, actually. Take care of your body as you would your saber, take care of your saber as you would your wife! That’s how the saying goes. Trust me, you’ll be regretting the whole thing soon enough.”

Jiang Yanli didn’t think she would. “You seem very confident that A-Cheng will allow you to do as you please, even in the Lotus Pier.”

“I’ll tell him it concerns secret Nie sect marriage rituals,” Nie Jiahui interjected. “When two women are involved, men tend to run away when the words ‘marriage’ and ‘secret’ are combined.”

Sadly, she was probably right.

“Show me those exercises again,” she requested, and Nie Jiahui climbed up on to the carriage to show her the ones she could do even while sitting down.

Jiang Yanli might never have had the opportunity to strengthen herself before, and she was moderately certain that she wouldn’t have too much success now, as the various tricks Nie Jiahui had taught her were largely body refinement, barely reliant on qi, and her cultivation was still as low as ever.

But she was good at devoting herself to learning something when she wanted to, and as soon the hunt at Phoenix Mountain was over and they had shifted over to the various feasts and meetings that Lanling Jin had planned for the rest of the week, she began her efforts at self-improvement in earnest.

The weak body her mother had always despaired of might always be weak – Nie Jiahui had been quite blunt on that subject, making it clear that nothing she was suggesting was some sort of miracle pill, and furthermore that there was nothing wrong with being weak as long as she made an effort (Nie Huaisang had been the recipient of several pointed looks there) – but Jiang Yanli was determined to at least demonstrate that she was trying.

A gesture of good faith, perhaps. Some small show of initiative.

Nie Huaisang had said that Nie Mingjue appreciated her initiative.

“A-Xian,” she called one morning, only a few days later. “A-Xian, are you going out for a walk? Let me come with you.”

“You’ve gone on a lot of walks recently,” Wei Wuxian laughed, but allowed her to take his arm as they walked into the crowd. “Do you like Lanling City so much?”

“It’s the exercise I’m after,” she said, smiling at him. “The Nie sect is a martial sect, remember? I’ll be going on more night-hunts in the future, if all goes well, and I’ll need to keep up.”

“Oh, but surely they’ll bring a carriage..? I don’t know if you really need to go on night-hunts –”

“I want to! It’ll be nice. Don’t worry about me so much, A-Xian –”

Wei Wuxian was shaking his head, smiling, and he wasn’t looking where he was going; perhaps that was why he bumped into the young woman.

But then she looked up at him, and he looked down at her, and he froze.

“Wen Qing?”

[cocochannel00]

Things that Husband!Harry would definitely do (a thread)

(If you don’t think that Tiny Desk Harry doesn’t give off mad husband!harry vibes - he looks so fluffy- then we can’t be friends)

- He’d sneak into your room the night before the wedding because he missed you even though he knows its bad luck and when you’re mad at him for it he would just smile and place a kiss on your forehead and say “I don’t need any luck, I just need you”

- At your wedding reception he would walk around the room introducing you to everyone as “my wife” as if they didn’t already know who you were 

- During your wedding dinner he’d spend the whole night whispering dirty jokes in your ear trying to make you laugh because he knew that even though it was your wedding day you were still spooked by all of the attention

- On your first year anniversary Harry wanted to surprise you by making you breakfast in bed so he started making pancakes as you slept. You woke up to the sound of your fire alarm going off and Harry blowing the smoke off a pan with a pillow. He’d give you a sheepish smile before mumbling a “maybe we get takeout this year?”

- During the holidays he’d hang mistletoe all around your house and force you to kiss him at every one. “Look love it’s mistletoe, you know what that means” he’d state with a grin. “Harry I just kissed you literally 2 minutes ago in the other room” you’d grumble “Doesn’t matter love, it’s mistletoe and those are the rules. Now come here and kiss your husband”

- Anytime the two of you would get into any sort of major fight where you would say “I hate you” he would shoot back “Well I love you so I guess you’re stuck with me” before going to sulk on the couch

- Whenever you went to his shows or stayed with him on tour he would force you to sit back stage and watch him from the wings so he could watch your reaction to his corny jokes and steal a kiss from you in between sets and on his bathroom breaks

- You agreed to be the designated drive for your group for a night out so Harry gets drunk and becomes extra clingy. He spends the entire night stuck to your side, shoving his face in your neck whispering “I’m going to marry you one day” to which you’d remind him quietly that you were already married. He’d then nod thoughtfully and mumbled “Well then I’m going to marry you again just in case” 

- One night you would be tossing and turning in bed unable to sleep and you would accidentally wake up Harry. You’d apologies because you knew he had to wake up early the next day, but he would just shush you with a quick peck before repositioning you so that you could lay your head on his chest. He’d then softly start humming the tune to one of the new songs he was working on until you’d fall asleep

- Harry would convince you that he was capable of building the Ikea coat rack the two of you had bought for your new home on his own so you’d go into the room next door to take a nap. When you woke up and hour later you found him laying on the floor facetiming Mitch as he tried to figure out why the last piece wasn’t fitting properly only for you to look at it and realize he had built half of it backwards

- Harry would come home late from one his movie shoots and would mumble a quick hello as he walked in through the door. You’d be sitting on the couch watching and episode of Dateline and he would throw himself next to you and lay his head on your lap. You’d start running your hands through his hair as you finished watching the last couple of minutes of the episode before asking Harry how his day was only to realize he had passed out on your lap and was now quietly snoring, a small trail of drool slowly coming out of his mouth

- The next season of your favorite show Handmaid’s Tale had come out so you and Harry started watching it. Every five minutes Harry would ask you a question about the show until mid way through you looked at him and bursted out “Harry if you ask me one more question about the show I’m sending you to our room”. Harry would pout at you and sink into the couch, grumbling about how it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t remember what happened last season before he shoved some popcorn into his mouth

- You’d need to go shopping at Target one day to get some decorations for your niece's birthday party and Harry would decide to come along. “This is our list Harry, we’re not buying anything that’s not on the list” you’d say in the car before getting out, but it would be hopeless because every other aisle Harry would pick something up and say “babe we need to get this” and you would stare at him and say “is it on the list?” and he would grumble a no before sulking back down the aisle to put it back

- On road trips when he let you pick the music he would grumble when you would change the song every 30 seconds. “Love just choose a song, it’s not that difficult, gave you the bloody playlist” he’d state as you would continue to skip through the songs mumbling “I’m tired of that song though, just wanted to hear the chorus”. “Is that what you do with my songs too, just skip all the good parts to get to the bloody chorus?” he’d ask mockingly as you gave him a sheepish smile and mumbled a “sometimes” before finally picking a song

- It would be nearly 4 am and you would still be awake reading your book in bed as Harry slept soundly next to you. You could feel the tears running down your face as the main character just had their heartbroken and a soft sniffle left your nose which caused Harry to startle awake. “Babe what time is it?” he’d mumble as you continue reading, paying him no mind. He’d turn on his phone and groan as he saw the 4 flash at him before turning to see the tears on your face. “Oh no love did she get her heartbroken again? Sure they’ll get back together by the end” he’d state, knowing this was your third rom-com book of the month. You’d mumble a yes as Harry gently dog eared the page before you could protest. He turned off your lamp before tucking you into his side, pulling the covers up to your chin, letting you crying into his chest over your fictional characters

- You and Harry going to your 15th high school reunion together and he gets jealous when he sees you talking to your ex-boyfriend from when you were 16. He’d come up behind you and wrap an arm around your waist while placing a kiss to the side of your temple before reaching out his free hand to introduce himself. “Hello I’m Harry. The Husband” he’d say as he shook your ex’s hand just a little tighter then necessary

- Harry would be overly invested in your work place gossip so when the two of you would have dinner together he would constantly ask questions about what happened with your coworkers that day. “So did Stacy and Justin get caught yet or does Janet still have no idea? Did Kathleen ever get that promotion? If I ever see Garrett I’m going to punch him”

-  He’d force you to wake up early with him so the two of you could workout together in your home gym, but you’d just sit on the floor against the mirror in your workout clothes staring at him. After several attempts at trying to get you to stretch with him he’d give up and say “If you’re not gonna workout at least give me some motivation babe” so he’d do his abs workout in front of you and every time he came up from a sit-up you’d give him a kiss

- Harry would come down with a cold and he would turn into a 5 year old boy and try to milk it for everything it’s worth. “Think the doctor mentioned that cuddles would really help with my headache, love.” “Harry I don’t think that’s what the doctor said” you’d reply as you placed a cold wash cloth on his forehead. “Don’t think I would have forgotten such an important order from her. Now, come here I want to cuddle my wife” 

- He’d come home from the studio fidgeting with his beat-up blue iPod in his hand as you were finishing up a quick dinner for the two of you. He would gently place the iPod on the counter next to you as he poured himself a drink to calm his nerves. You’d stare at it for a minute before asking “Is it finished? Can I listen?”. He’d nod before you gave him a quick kiss and took the device to the living room, leaving him there with his thoughts. An hour later you came back into the kitchen, tears streaming down your face as you ran up to hug him. “Liked it?” he’d ask nervously, this being the first time you’d heard the finished album. “Absolutely loved it” you’d whisper back causing Harry to release a deep breath before taking your face in his hands and kissing you roughly

- He’d start every award acceptance speech with “I’d like to first thank my wife for always supporting me” and then try to catch your eye in the crowd, giving you a soft smile that was only meant for you before going on to thank everyone else

- “We need an intervention Harry. Why are your suits in my side of the closet?” you asked as you came down stairs with one of Harry’s Gucci suits. “I was running out of space and I didn’t think you would notice” he replied with a blush. “Well I did so either you move them or I’m throwing them out” “Love but they’re Gucci you can’t just-” “Ah ah ah I don’t care. My side of the closet” you’d state before dropping the suit in his lap and walking back upstairs

So many others come to mind but these are just a couple that came to mind. I’ll probably do a Dad!Harry version at some point as well 

[mochii0park]

metanoia; 01 | kth

Title: Metanoia

Pairing: Taehyung / Reader

Part of series: Waterlilies and Japanese Bridge

Genre: angst I collage!au

Pairing: student!reader x photographer!taeyhung

Word count: 4,7k

Summary: Vante, a household name among photographers became known for his minimalistic photography style that came along with his secret persona. Never showing his face on his own exhibitions fueled the public’s desire to learn more about him which skyrocketed his fame. While preparing for his next exhibition Vante went missing. Disappeared into thin air and even now a year later was never found.

Author’s note: I am very conscious of any grammar mistakes. Although I have read this chapter three times I am sure I’ve missed some so bare with me. 

On another note, I have switched the dates of the chapters for Saudade and Metanoia. Since this story got more attention compared to Sauade I’ve decided to write it before the date.

This is my first attempt at writing on this platform and I hope it will reach out to a wider range of readers and catch your interest. Any feedback is greatly appreciated.

Taglist: @ggukkieland​ @honig-und-millch​ , @deliciousdetectivestranger ,

Masterlist

Metanoia masterlist

< intro | next chapter >

You sink into the overaged draggled yellow chair, catching second-hand embarrassment at the sight before you. The boy walked about, his thrusts were not enough to keep the neon hula hoop from falling. He attempts to fumble his way out of the mess, but it was too late. The left ankle twists itself and before you know it, he hits headfirst against the wooden flooring. The professors rush towards him, medics following behind. The boy tries to pull himself up but fails his body slumping against the stage. To your left Mingi snorts, stuffing his face with popcorn amused by the scene playing out.

“I don’t mean to sound rude or whatever, but people need to search up the meaning of talent before their eyes skip to the word show.” Minnie ruckles her nose, her mouth loop sided.

“I find this highly entertaining,” Mingi speaks up, mouth full of food. He takes a sip of the cold beverage rested in his lap and shakes the mixture before swallowing.

To his left Yeonjun shudders at him, “Talent or not I would rather replay that scene than watch Mingi be a slob. It makes me want to bleach my eyes out.”

Mingi rolls his eyes ignoring Yeonjun as he pops more popcorn, oblivious to his own weird antics. Although the four of you are friends for years, Mingi managed to take you all by surprise with his uncanny behaviour.

The second act starts and suddenly you contemplate your university choice. Reasonably the overbearing staff of your university wanted the timid first years to feel welcomed hence this so-called show. In hindsight, you think a friendly party would’ve been just as good.

Halfway through the act, you feel a light tap on your shoulders, professor Kim Namjoon stands there like a sore thumb in the mass of students’ bodies. With his hovering height, freshly dyed purple hair and the rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose he was sure to stand out. He shifts his footing from one to the other foot anxiously waiting for you to follow him, few students commenting on the disruptions that his appearance caused.

You observe him for a second, accompanying him out of the theatre into the cold November air. He fumbles through his leather briefcase before fishing out a small, crumpled flyer. Opening it he shoves it into your hands while tweaking his glasses.

“I have a favour to ask you Y/N. There will be a course taking place here and I would love for you to attend it with your peculiar friends.” He says emphasising the word peculiar.

You knew that Mingi gave Namjoon the creeps even though the latter denied it.

“No.”

You push back the flyer spinning on the balls of your feet ready to join your friends.

“Y/L-…”, Namjoon groans, “Do it for your brother-in-law.”

Widening your eyes, you look at him shaking your head.” This isn’t the time to use our family relations to bribe me into a stupid course.”

“Did you even read what’s it about?”, you take the flyer from his hands skimming through it.

Photography course

Length: 10th November till 10th June

Time: Friday, 6pm -8pm

Attendance: Third years and above

Equipment not needed for the course

Your eyes pause at the date, laughing releasing itself from your chest. Surely Namjoon was kidding when suggesting this. You were in your last year which meant you would soon be flooded with work for your final project. In conclusion, there was barely enough time for you set foot out of your studies let alone attend another one of the university’s poor attempts to make a course for students to bond over.

“You understand I’m in my last year. I don’t have time to go out and have fun with my friends. How in the world did you think I would fit a whole-ass course?”

Namjoon releases a breath running a hand through his thick hair, desperation evident on his face.” I am sorry to have to do this, but I am cashing in my favour.”

You become stiff mouth agape, incoherent vowels coming out of you. It takes you a few seconds to gather your thoughts, “you promised to not cash it in. You gave me your word.”

“And you gave me yours.” Namjoon retored sassily, finger pointing at you, “I won’t tell Sunmi if you promise to do me a favour when the time comes.”

Pushing your tongue against the palate, you try to control the boiling anger.

The incident happened four years ago, back when you were still figuring out your college life. Namjoon and you were acquaintances, sharing one elective course called German Literature. Needless to say, both of you suffered greatly.

By the end of the year, you noticed your sister piqued Namjoon’s interest. Grossed out by the idea of your older sister engaging in any kind of relationship/activity with a twenty-three-year-old, you kept your distance until the faithful day.

Choi San was the synonym for the devil himself. With his fiery red hair and dazzling cat-like eyes, he lured you into his messy life of illegal parties and binge drinking. You still find yourself cringing at his pathetic excuses of professing his undying love to you when it was all under false pretences. His eyes bearing into your naïve soul, pulling your heart out and wrenching it until your friends came to pick up the pieces.

Sitting in the police station you counted down minutes before your older sister would burst through the door and finally decide to disown you. With your head nested between your knees you suck in the tears threatening to spill, the euphoria from the alcohol long gone. You’ve dialled Mingi’s number first, the others were a no go when it came to answering their phones. He picked up in a matter of seconds. After explaining the situation, you figured he would bring his own parents to bail you out instead Namjoon comes first, after him a stressed Minnie trying to keep up the pace with him and a Yeonjun who’s pulling his masks further over his nose in a lame attempt to be unrecognizable. Mingi idly meanders behind them in his pyjamas with not one care in the world. Namjoon pulls a small amount of money handing the police officer and not long after you were free.

At that moment you’ve truly recognized your friends as the people you wanted to keep in your life forever. Namjoon jokingly said he would someday cash in his favour. Little did you know the joke would get over your head.

“You’ve waited for four years to cash it?”

He shrugs and nods lightly. Quickly he composes himself, washing his features of playfulness and switching them up with hopelessness. “It’s really important for me that you and your clique of friends attend this course. Professor Seojoon organized it-“

At the mention of your favourite professor, your eyes light up making Namjoon shudders. The little “crush” you harboured didn’t go unnoticed by him. Putting his hands on your shoulders he gains your attention again before continuing, “his brother is the one to hold the course so you must come. I will put in a good word for you all. Maybe he will go easy on you during quizzes.”

You roll your eyes knowing fully well that you didn’t need Namjoon’s intervention although it was greatly appreciated. Putting the flyer in your back pocket you throw a thumbs up to Namjoon, “Well Minnie and I don’t need any favouritism and I am almost certain you can’t do much for Yeonjun and Mingi seeing as they are in different departments.”

“Oh?” Namjoon’s brows shot up at the revelation, totally dismissing the idea that you know each other any differently than through the classes you attend, “I thought Yeonjun was in the literature department, as for Mingi it’s far-fetched but I didn’t want to sound rude.”

“Actually, Yeonjun is in the Vocal department while Mingi is in the Physics and Astronomy department. He’s also on top of his class, both are.”

Namjoon seems stunned at the information you threw at him, but he recovers swiftly, “Bunch of nerds.” He chuckles at his own jokes before both of you bid goodbyes. You slowly make your way to the cafeteria mind set on pursuing your friends to join you and Namjoon running to the staff meeting hoping to extinguish the chaos caused by the talent show.

Pushing past the mass of people on the campus your sneakers squeak against the pavement, the chatter between the students becoming louder as you push the cafeteria doors. Making your way towards the table in the further left corner you spot Yeonjun’s eye-catching hair. The pink shade fits well against his pale skin making him noticeable from afar. The boy throws a piece of chips at Mingi, the latter catching it mid-air.

The rustling of your chair brings them out of their bubble. Minnie plops her elbows on the table, hand supporting her cheek as she lays it there, eyes staring at you amusingly. Mingi continues to catch Yeonjun’s chips, his attention now slightly focused on you. “How was the talk with professor Namjoon.”

“I need a favour to ask you.”

“Last time you asked for a favour we had to bail you from jail,” Mingi adds face void of any emotion causing Yeonjun to almost choke on the piece of chicken from his plate. Minnie reaches for his head hitting him hard on the back.

“That was four years ago for God’s sake.” You yell, a few students turning bothered by your loud voice disrupting their meal.

Slumping further into the seat, cheeks reddened from the heat of the sudden attention you gained you say quietly, “there is a course taking place this year and I would love if you could attend it.”

Mingi was the first to read the flyer once you push it in the middle of the old table. He hums a couple of times and gives you a thumbs up, unlike Minnie who scoffs.

“A whole semester? Y/N you know this is impossible to juggle this with our final project. As much as I would love to participate you know what you’re asking for is too much.”

You bite your lower lip remembering Namjoon’s words. “I know but professor Seojoon is organizing it, and don’t you think having him on our good side would mean a lot?”

Minnie shrugs and pops the strawberry into her mouth. “I understand, but it’s on Fridays. The only time I can spare for parties and clubs, and you’re asking me to spend it studying something I am not even remotely interested in?”

You turn towards Yeonjun knowing if he agrees Minnie will crumble under the pressure of your group. He scans it quickly and shakes his lightly head from left to right before agreeing to accompany you making Minnie collapse her shoulders in defeat.

“Fine but if it takes too much of my time I am signing out.”

“I love you guys so much.”

“Cut it with the sappy shit, I have piano lessons.” Yeonjun gets up telling you goodbye before he disappears in the ocean of students his pink hair no longer visible. A distant scream could be heard a few seconds after, “I love you too.”

You smile feeling the love of your friends.

“We love you too.” Mingi gets up and places a carton of freshly squeezed apple juice in front of you sending off a small smile. Just like Yeonjun, he’s gone.

                        -

Nose buried deep into the book; Taehyung tried his best to mute out his brother’s lame attempts of starting a conversation he never intended to finish. Legs resting on the polished marble table he did his very best to further fuel Seojoon’s irritation. The older one pacing back and forwards provoking Taehyung’s headache.

“If you would just listen to me.”

Kim Taehyung detested surprise, especially those he didn’t catch on early. This one though topped the cake. “There is no need to listen.”

“Quit being stubborn.”

“Oh, the irony.” Taehyung looked up catching his brother’s burning gaze,” contrary to your beliefs, I must say you are the one who’s stubborn here. When a person asks for space and time you give them that instead of forcing them, wait sorry what was the word again? Yeah, lightly pushing them into holding a course. One which they never asked for or showed the desire to hold.”

“You needed a little push in the right direction.”

“Arranging a one-year course isn’t a push you idiot,” Taehyung shouted; the book was long forgotten and tossed aside on his couch. His yell echoed in the empty room causing Seojoon’s to scowl. He found comfort in a small armchair adjacent to the marble table. “You can’t bury yourself in books and spend your days in the atelier. It’s not healthy Taehyung.”

“I don’t remember asking for advice.”

Seojoon was on the verge of giving up, letting the course get cancelled before it even happened hadn’t it been for the twelve people that signed up and Namjoon’s effort to recruit them.

“Look-“he takes a deep breath calming himself, “You can think of it as a one year course, but in reality, it’s eight months. When you count Christmas, New Year, Easter you can cut one month coming to seven months in total. I’ve gone all out for this course, please don’t make me go and explain to my higher-ups why it’s cancelled before it even started.”

Taehyung shut his eyes trying not to feed the growing frustration inside him. Seojoon takes the time to look at his brother, the embodiment of pain. The eyes that used to shine brightly at the sight of new opportunities were now dull and empty, almost as if his soul left the body. It tore him apart to see Taehyung like that, powerless and what added more to his pain was the inability to help him.  

“It’s been a year since I’ve held a class.”

“I know you Taehyung. You are a man of many talents and there is nothing that can convince me otherwise. You need to move forward and face the fear you’ve been holding onto. It’s been a year. Nobody will judge you.” Seojoon’s eyes soften as he walks up to his brother ruffling his hair, hoping that his sincerity got through to him.

“I don’t know Joon.”

Before Seojoon could even start talking Taehyung shakes his head and moves hurriedly reaching for the knob. Seojoon takes a step towards Taehyung, but he doesn’t even give him a chance to speak as he runs right out of the door leaving him alone in the atelier.

The water drips from Taehyung’s wet hair down his face creating a false comfort, the sound of water coated a perfect cover to hide his emotional baggage. It became a habit of his to seek solace in the bathtub surrounded by lavender soaps that Yuna bought. A tradition carried on from their mother to them. The scent took Taehyung back into his childhood spent in his family home in Busan. Carefree of responsibilities and the heavy burden the world carried.

He recalls the delicate touch of his mother’s fingers untangling his locks while singing Elvis’s song can’t help falling in love. Her voice heartening Taehyung as he wept over a dispute he had with his second brother Hyungsik. The vivid memory of his mother placing a kiss on the crown of his head before wiping away the tears from his cheeks.

“Siblings are there to teach you about life,” she whispers softly, “They teach you what it means to be kind, to be fair and to know you will not always be right. They teach you about teamwork, conflict resolution and most importantly Tae they teach you what it is to love and to be loved.”

Opening the door of Seojoon’s study, Taehyung is greeted with a sight to behold. Leaning against the door frame he watches Yuna and Hyungsik dancing in the middle of the muddled room, furniture pushed aside to create more room. They attempted to follow Yuna’s new choreography, Seojoon’s seated in the leather armchair grading assignments although he would glance up occasionally laughing at the duo. More like laugh at Hyungsik’s failed attempts but he didn’t need to know that. Noticing Taehyung’s presence, Yuna runs over linking their arms and pulls him forward oblivious to the slight tension between him and Seojoon.

“Idol my ass, “she scoffs at a gasping Hyungsik, “Taehyungie I need a dance partner for my new choreography. Hyungsik can’t even learn the basics.”

“Not my fault the younger generation goes overboard with their dances and outfits and singing. In my time we relied on our charms, and not how you call it? Fairy ending? What is even that?”

“It’s when idols finish the song, and the camera pans on of them giving them some more love and screen time. Right?” Taehyung looks at Yuna for approval. She places Taehyung’s hand over her shoulder, linking her arms around his waist while he kisses her temple and puts his cheek on top of her head.

“Admit it you’ve gotten old Hyungsik.” Seojoon derides.

That was enough to motivate Hyungsik to crack his fingers and reach for the tablet, “Give me the goddamn tablet. I’ll show you who’s old.” burying his nose into the gadget, he replays the video repeatedly.

By the time he made it through the first segment of the dance, Taehyung was sure he could blindly replicate the choreography himself.

“Couldn’t you ask one of your professors or other idols in training to help you?” Taehyung asks as the two observe Hyungsik’s rusty moves.

“One friend is busy finishing school projects and Jungkook-a has too many events lined up to help. I haven’t seen him since last Friday and I don’t feel comfortable asking Jimin-ssi to practice with me.”

“Isn’t he your professor?”

“Yes and no. He helps the idols which have already debuted in our entertainment company, that’s Jungkook. Jimin-ssi does occasionally step in when other professors are prevented from teaching. But his job is being a full-time professor at the EQ Royal Dance Academy.”

Taehyung nods, the information flying over his head as Hyungsik messes up a move and topples to the floor. He erupts into fits of laugher for the first time in weeks and Seojoon is suddenly reminded what’s it like to be happy. He knew bringing Yuna home for the weekend would do Taehyung some good. The sight warms his heart, his siblings bickering loudly, breathing some life into the old room. Resting the assignments on the nearby table, he sits up to join them. Catching Taehyung’s gaze he looks towards the boy, brows raised.

“I’ve thought about it and-” Taehyung stops for a second, but Seojoon’s soft gaze prompts him to continue. “I’ll take the job.”

“Well, you better get ready because it starts in two hours.”

“What?!”

                       -

There were many ways you could spend your Friday night, like partying for instance yet here you are sitting in your car listening to Minnie whining. Mingi’s soul stuck somewhere on his iPod the second he set foot in the car, his head bobbing to the music blasting from his AirPods. Yeonjon was the only one not present. Due to his idol actives, he was held back by his vocal coach, but he promised to be there for the second lecture.

Placing your analogue camera on the desk, you tug your hair into a ponytail mentally preparing yourself for two hours of dullness. Minnie sits to your right while Mingi takes the chair to your left. The three of you seating yourselves in the front of the classroom, Namjoon’s words bunch of nerds playing in your head.

Shaking the thought away you see the watch tick eight pm as the door swings open.

When Namjoon told you professor Seojoon’s brother would hold the course you had expected a man either older than him or somewhere around his age, not a handsome make you take a double look type of a man; two or three years older than you.

His features were nothing short of a Greek god. He stood head and shoulders over you even when you were seated, confidence radiating from every fibre of his being as adjusts his bag over his shoulder. Pushing his brown curls away from his face he allows you to look at it. Perhaps you were exaggerating but you never saw such a gorgeous man. Straightening himself up you take notice of his attire for tonight’s lecture. An orange blazer draped over a white shirt brought out his sun-kissed complexion paired with the same-coloured trousers. A type of anonymity laced itself with every step he took in your direction, his stare a mixture of coldness and determination.

He comes forward, eyes scanning each one of you before he sets his gaze on you. It lingers there for a second, his expression unreadable before he breaks it.

“Hello, my name is Kim Taehyung and I’ll be your lecturer for this course.”

For the first time, you see Mingi’s focus entirely on Taehyung. His presence demanded to be felt and a part of you was sure he knew it. Taking the camera in his hand he turns towards you.

“I assume you have at least once taken a photo, whether with your phones or camera. Moreover, I am positive you have attempted to make an aesthetic photo for your Instagram feed. How many of you were successful?” laughter filled the lecture hall,” The goal of this lecture isn’t to make a photographer out of you nor to help you improve your skills. The point is to make you fall in love with photography. The rest will come easy.”

He walks around the desk and opens an old leather binder. Walking towards your table he places it in front of Mingi allowing the three of you to peek at the content of it. There neatly stored in a plastic sheet were his photos. Mingi pushes the portfolio in front of you, allowing easier access to both Minnie and you. Slowly leafing through the pictures, you stop in total awe. Eyes trailing over a simple photo of a ray field, caught somewhere in later November or early December judging by the snow. The contrast was striking, the clash of the colours and the depth of field creating an imaginary line between the ray and the sky.

Taehyung observes your dumbfounded expression, intrigued by your sudden amazement he ambles to your side. He rakes over the photo, which was a thereby sheer mistake, panic rushing through him. In a reckless attempt to stop you from further prying into the photos he grasps the portfolio out of your hold knocking over your camera in the process. It hits the floor shattering the lens into pieces, the film rolling down until it stops near his feet. Cursing himself for his abrupt action, he looks at you. Your eyes drift from the broken camera to Taehyung’s face.

He hurriedly squats picking the pieces, analysing the damage. Beyond repair.

“I am so sorry. I-” he says placing the parts on your table trying to come up with more words of apology.

“It’s alright.” You shuffle awkwardly in your seat not liking the spotlight put on you.

“I’ll be sure to repay you the coasts of a new camera.”

You shake your head; the camera was already outdated, and you were sure Sunmi would let you borrow her digital one from the gallery. “It’s fine.”

Taehyung puts his lips into a thin line, the confidence he marched beginning to leave his body. Although you showed no anger or resentment towards him, he still felt the need to apologize. Swallowing the awkward moment, he paces towards the centre.

“Today we will start with simple terms such as ISO, Aperture and Shutter speed. Three things you should get familiar with.”

Fetching his Nikon camera from the case he turns it around. Swirling the button on the upper part of the camera he adjusts the mode to manual. Pushing another button towards himself the camera shows three circles in the middle of the screen.

“The first circle is shutter speed. That’s the speed at which the light of a camera sensor is exposed to light when taking a photo. Slow shutter speed captures the blur of subjects in motion. It’s valuable for night and landscape photography. On the other hand, high speed allows you to freeze a single millisecond in time.”

Pointing to the middle circle he continues. “This is an aperture, the opening through which light passes through the lens to enter the camera. Its size can be modified to control how much light reaches the sensor.”

Lastly, he shows you the third button. “ISO represents the sensor’s sensitivity to the light. The higher the number, the more information will be captured in other words the picture will be brighter.”

Taehyung fumbles with the camera for a few seconds before he focuses it on you and with a click and shutter of light, he takes your photo. With no time to recover you feel a blush creep at the thought of how the picture turned out. “As you can see this is the perfect setting for the indoor portrait. Now if we put the shutter speed high and the ISO low-“

He again takes a picture of you turning the camera screen to the students. The photo was dark, your features barely visible but still your figure could be distinguished. “This is an underexposed photo. Now if we set the shutter speed to let’s say 1/40 and places the ISO high-“

Expecting his move this time, you look up at the camera. Taehyung halts his action for a slight second before he presses the button. Looking at the photo, the brightness is overbearing. “This is an overexposed photo.”

He places the camera in front of Mingi, Minnie and you allowing you to take your time and compare the three photos he took. “Why am I showing you this? Because for your next assignment that’s what you will do. You will take three photos of the same object. The object you choose should be something that left a great impact on you. That can be your family, your friends or an inanimate object such as phones, books etc. The choice is yours.”

Pulling out stacks of paper he leaves them on the corner of his desk.” These here are today’s study notes. I don’t expect you to write down notes while in the class, but I do expect you to finish your assignments. That will be all for today.”

The students began leaving the room each taking one paper, Taehyung stood there, hands in his pocket looking through every pupil that passed by. Minnie was first in line, her flirt mode on. You see them exchange a few words, Minnie’s behaviour suddenly going from sweet to sour in seconds. You dally your way to the desk aware of his gaze burning holes in the side of your head.

“Sorry, Y/N was it?” You peek up not expecting him to spare you a second let alone address you.

“Yeah?”

Taehyung scratches the back of his neck awkwardly.” I am sorry for what happened to your camera. I know you said it’s fine, but I feel responsible for it. I would feel better if you let me repay you by buying a new camera or at least participating in the coasts.”

“No, really it’s fine.” You laugh as you say it for the fourth time today.” I will borrow my sister’s camera for the course. If I do find myself in a need to buy a new camera, I will let you know.”

Before Taeyhung could protest you nod politely and leave the room. Biting his lip, he couldn’t help to feel bad about the wreck he made knowing full well how much an analogue camera costs nowadays. Taking the Nikon one from your table he swipes through the photos deleting each one before he pauses on the last one. It was the first black and white photo he took of you.

Your eyes were focused on Taehyung, although taken aback by the light they held their composure your mouth pulled into an affiliative smile. The white light made your baby hair stand out in the black background. For an unexplained reason, Taehyung felt a small tug, one he couldn’t pinpoint the meaning of. Shutting off his camera, he exhales through his nose and throws the bag over his shoulder.

The first lecture was done, thirty-three to go.

all rights reserved @moochi0park

[hmslusitania]

May I suggest 76 and 85?

76. Did They or Didn’t They? + 85. Innocent Physical Contact

I’ve seen this combo doing some rounds for Buddie and you didn’t give me a ship (sorry) so! Madney AU! (as I was writing it, it did also get a little buddie-buddie, but what can you do)

And I do mean AU because in this case, both Buckley siblings took off in 2012 and eventually found their way to LA.

Maddie is working as an ER nurse and feels safe doing it because Doug is in prison

Buck hasn’t decided what he wants to do yet, on a permanent basis, but he’s currently working as an orderly in the same hospital as Maddie

Which happens to be right in the nearest transport range for the 118

Seeing as she’s one of the senior nurses in the ER, Maddie interacts with the paramedics who bring them patients on a fairly frequent basis

Particularly the one very cute paramedic from the 118

(Buck: the one with the pretty brown eyes? Maddie: yeah! Buck: and the really soft-looking, nice brown hair? Maddie: um... Buck: tattoo on his arm? Maddie: we are talking about different people, also I don’t think your guy is a paramedic)

Anyway, it’s not like they have an opportunity to flirt with each other while they’re working, they’re too busy saving lives

Eventually, since Buck is not a nurse and Eddie is not a paramedic, they find a second to talk and Eddie lowkey invites the Buckley siblings to the bar where the 118 sometimes hangs out after shifts

Maddie assures herself that she’s only going because she wants to supervise Buck and keep him from bringing chaos upon himself and their family

it’s not because she wants to actually talk to the cute paramedic

(Buck 100% does not believe her)

(Buck is 102% correct)

It does not take nearly as much alcohol as it should to get Maddie and Chimney up on stage doing karaoke duets

Buck spends the entire night not paying attention to Eddie, and instead keeping a beady eye on Maddie and Chim.

Eventually, he has to head home because unlike some people (everyone else in the party) he has a shift in the morning.

And Maddie assures him that she’ll be along shortly, don’t wait up

Buck waits up

Of course Buck waits up

until Maddie tiptoes back into their apartment at at four in the morning

Buck: and what sort of time do you call this?! Maddie: Buck, it’s fine. It’s late, I’m gonna go to sleep! Buck: oh you absolutely are not until you tell me where you’ve been and who you were with! Maddie: Buck: Maddie: Buck: Oh I don’t like being on this side of this conversation Maddie: no, me neither

Anyway, she does not at any point give him a straight answer as to what had gone down after Buck left the bar

And so he pays attention every time the 118 drops off a patient at their ER.

Is that a simple hand-graze? Is it an accident because they were exchanging custody of the patient IV bag? Was that a lingering look?!

Eventually, he starts to drive himself crazy enough that he has to enlist help.

He gets Eddie to try and browbeat the truth out of Chimney (who is uncharacteristically circumspect about it) while he tries for Maddie (who tells him nothing)

To Buck’s delight/chagrin, Eddie also gets a little obsessed with this conundrum

They may spend several long evenings cooped up together ostensibly playing video games with Eddie’s son but also discussing The Evidence

Finally, when they can’t take it anymore -- because these potentially innocent/possibly scandalous and damning touches keep happening and the Buckleys keep going to karaoke and drinks with the 118 and Maddie and Chim keep not telling them -- they stage an intervention.

Hen helps, mostly because she thinks it’s hilarious

To everyone’s surprise, it turns out that Maddie and Chim started dating before Eddie invited the Buckleys to the first group night out. Also, it’s been like, six months? And they’re talking very seriously about moving in together, but Maddie hadn’t wanted to stress Buck out (had no idea he was stressing himself out trying to figure out what they were up to) before it was necessary

And well, Buck can’t really make rent on their apartment by himself so he’s gonna have to find somewhere else to live

Maybe with his new favourite partner-in-investigations? But that’s a different story

There are Other mashups you can read!

[greenbriar-j]

Muscle Memory, full wip, unedited 4.7k, scroll at ur own risk; tagging some people who showed previous interest @halleiswriting @chazzawrites @pe-ersona @druidx and also @pens-swords-stuff this is what I’ve been up to lately

Saint Joseph’s Catholic Church bustles with activity. It’s peculiar, for it being a weekday. More peculiar still that the bustling is being done by young men and women who could very well be engaging in… more satisfying summer indulgences.

The Youth Group’s power couple sweeps in an hour late, ever put together even when, by all rights, they ought to be melting right out of their fancy outfits. Cheers rise from the crowd when they appear, each splitting off in their own directions to their own stations.

Y Nhi beelines for the painters, flicking her sleek ponytail to make sure it’s out of the way. The girls hand her a brush while detailing what’s left to be done. Vinny bustles for the sound technicians - who, really, are already done for the day, but are staying for the social factor.

Two things to note about St. Joseph’s power couple:

Y Nhi isn’t sure she believes in God very much anymore.

They are not a couple, but it’s easier to let everyone think so than to correct it.

“Jude,” Mary says (everyone calls her Jude because she and Vinny made a big deal of it years ago), “Are you sure you can’t help out during the week?”

Y Nhi shrugs. She’s not busy or anything, but it feels wrong to shepherd children into a religion she’s falling out of - even if Vacation Bible School had been one of her favorite summer memories for her entire life. That’s where she met Vinny, after all.

Vinny, laughing with the guys at the sound booth. To be more accurate, Vinny himself is only smirking, but that’s as close to a laugh as he gets around here. Stupid smirk. Stupid boy.

“I have work. Unfortunately,” Y Nhi mutters, dragging her brush across a cardboard cutout. “Vinny’s taking the week off, so I’m picking up his slack.”

Mary grins widely at that. “I swear it’s like you’re married.”

For whatever reason, Y Nhi’s heart clenches at that. Picturing herself and Vinny in wedding attire on the altar sickens her, but putting a faceless someone in her place makes her feel worse. But it’s not like she likes him. She’s sworn to herself that she’d become a cat lady in her old age - her army has already begun with a fluffy black kitten. It’s not looking too good for her future; Toothless likes Vinny more than her. She’s already failed as a parent.

Belatedly, Y Nhi realizes she’s supposed to be engaging in a conversation, not thinking about Vinny and their co-parenting of a cat. If it can be called that.

“Don’t hold your breath. The wedding is a long way off,” she says tightly. Like. Never. Never is a long, long way off.

“I wouldn’t be too sure.”

This time, Y Nhi lets the comment slide. She paints while singing under her breath, as she always does. A long time ago, she had no qualms about belting it out, but time has weathered away her volume, reducing it to only this. No one’s noticed the change or found it strange.

The conversation turns to something - anything - else. Degrees, internships, other boys who don’t dress in all black and aren’t named Vincent Truong. Y Nhi listens, but doesn’t contribute.

By the time the call goes out for a lunch break, Y Nhi is finishing three tasks at once. One of the other girls brings her a burger, slathered with ketchup and mayo and tomatoes. Y Nhi thanks her and continues wrapping one of the white pillars in cardboard paper to simulate a palm tree.

Not long after, someone nudges her. Eyes flickering upward, she’s met with the bored eyes of her very best friend. “Bite.��

She doesn’t, not yet.

Vinny wiggles the burger he’s holding in front of her mouth. “Only half a slice of cheese. No tomatoes. Freshest patty of the batch. Eat.”

She still doesn’t take the bait, even though he’s tailored this burger to her weirdly specific tastes.

Vinny sighs. “Jude. No one’s watching you. I promise all they can see is my back.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” It’s true she had a complex about eating in public for a while, for reasons she’s never told anyone including him. “Just not hungry.”

“Not very Gucci of you to lie in the house of God.”

“Not very Gucci of you to breathe.”

“Jude! The fuck, man.” But he’s grinning. Not the half-assed grin he gives everyone else, but an honest, mirthful grin reserved for Toothless and Y Nhi only (usually Toothless. Damn cat).“Just eat this, okay? I’ll eat the other one.” His whole demeanor softens as he picks up the burger she had ignored - the one that is surely cold by now.

She is hungry. After all, the reason they were late is because Vinny had to coax her to every step of getting ready this morning. He even applied her eyeliner with the even strokes of a practiced hand - so practiced that even Y Nhi admits it looks like her own work. If she had a choice, she would waste away in bed for the day, but Vinny has never been much of a fan of that plan.

According to her own plan, Y Nhi had been wasting away since before yesterday’s dinner. Famished might be a better word to describe her present state.

But today is one of those days that she feels guilty cementing the married couple narrative any more than it needs to be. They’re not getting any younger, Vinny and Y Nhi, and just because she’s sworn off marriage doesn’t mean he has. How’s he supposed to get a nice girlfriend if she keeps hanging around?

Objectively, it’s a stupid reason to risk passing out in a church of all places, but something about him just makes her stupid. Always has.

The longer she ignores his peace offering, the twitcher he gets. He finishes his own burger in ten massive bites. When Y Nhi still doesn’t eat hers, he eats that whole thing too. “We’re leaving early. Say an hour? Think about what you want to eat.”

With that, he’s gone. Y Nhi is not hyper aware of his presence as it moves through the open space. She does not miss having him next to her. Not even a little.

-

Y Nhi writes, appetite??? in her journal when she gets home. It’s the third time something of this nature has appeared on its list which isn’t titled - but if it was it would be something like “Things About Vinny T. that Don’t Make Sense.”

Even after inhaling two burgers, he took her out for pho and Thai tea, and he ate so slow that his noodles expanded in the broth. Still, he finished a medium bowl with relative ease, and Y Nhi was content after she’d finished a small.

How does someone who eats like that look like that? It has to be some sort of stupid freaky metabolism. Genetic polymorphism, she thinks, then adds that she might be incorrectly using the term she’d heard in class about two semesters ago.

She writes freeloading on the list. It’s not technically true, but he spends enough time at her place to make it feel like it. Right this minute, he’s setting up the living room to sleep in, awaiting her delivery of the overnight bag he always leaves stocked in her apartment for emergencies.

That goes on the list too. Definition of ‘emergency.’

According to recent months, an alarming amount of things fit under this category of Vinny’s mind. It might be nearing time to stage an intervention, but who’s Y Nhi to tell him to relax when she’s the one bordering on anxiety attacks all the time? Only god knows how many times he’s clutched her shaking hands until they stopped.

Y Nhi closes the journal. Snaps the band over the cover. Shoves it under her pillow. Vinny wouldn’t dare read it to begin with, but for some reason, she doesn’t even want him to know of its existence.

Quickly divesting herself of the impeccable outfit she’d worn for the day, she slips easily into one of Vinny’s large, large shirts and the shorts she affectionately calls game day shorts. Ever since high school, she’s worn them for events that require equal amounts of comfort and courage - or just for comfort, to be honest.

“Hey, loser,” she greets Vinny, emerging from her room. He’s got her guitar in hand, and is humming some tune that she recognizes but can’t place. “Your stuff is on my bed. Have you seen Toothless?”

He nods, and keeps playing. It’s in experience, being stared at with such intense eyes while trying not to stare at the other party’s stupid pretty hands playing her guitar. Fuck him, honestly, she thinks angrily.

Leaving him there, she pours each of them a glass of water in the kitchen. A shadow looms on top of the fridge, and she jumps. “Toothless, baby. Please stop napping on the fridge.”

Toothless is not napping. He stands up, shakes his tiny body and hops to the counter, then to the floor, twining around Y Nhi’s feet before scuttling off.

Vinny is singing now. It’s a new song, she supposes, and it sounds like a love song.

Slowly, Y Nhi moves around the kitchen, making as little noise as possible while doing absolutely nothing. She just wants to listen to Vinny and his new love song without him watching her reaction.

Once she gets past the lyrics about gentle touches and midnight escapades, she realizes something. Re-entering the living room, she deposits his water on the table. “Is that my melody? Why would you steal it?”

The guitar is placed awkwardly on the floor, the neck of it leaning on the couch. “Oh, is that where it’s from? Thought it was familiar,” he says with mild disinterest. “Well, I wasn’t that attached to it anyway.”

“Are you saying it sucks?” Y Nhi settles on the floor on the other side of the table, pulling her knees into her chest. Glancing through her lashes, Y Nhi watches Vinny’s expressions.

“I’m saying I’m not taking your work, you brat.” Then he hesitates. “I mean. Can I, just for one person?”

“What the fuck.”

Vinny twitches, finally. “I… Wrote the song for someone… So I’d like to sing it for her, just once.”

Something vile rises in her throat, and she wishes Toothless would notice her distress. Hugging the cat might make her feel a little better about the fact that Vinny’s written a song about a girl using her melody - and it’s not about herself and for some odd reason, that bothers her.

“Can- Can I hear it?” Y Nhi asks in a tiny voice. It’s easier than No, you cannot take my song to sing to some other girl who will take you away from me.

“Haven’t you been hearing it?”

“Vincent.” Because that’s easier than You colossal idiot, what shit are you pulling after two years?

“Jude-”

She stands suddenly, fleeing to her room. Shutting the door, locking it, she tries to breathe. Of all people, Vinny should be the last person to push her to this reaction. She doesn’t know what to think.

Vinny knows.

Vinny knows where her hard limits are. Technically, he hasn’t passed them. But he’s pretty damn close.

Y Nhi slips into the shower, leaving it on the hottest setting to boil the emotions out.

-

For the next two days, Y Nhi doesn’t emerge from her room. Her phone dies, and she lets it. Her body self-destructs in hunger and dehydration from crying, and she lets it. She stays in bed for most of it. Whether Vinny continues to sleep on the other side of the wall for those nights, she doesn’t know. Nor care.

It’s punishment for believing she might be ready to give love another chance.

-

The third day, a letter slips under her door.

She almost flushes it down the toilet without reading it. Everything is in position to do so, paper fluttering in unsteady hands above the toilet bowl. But she wants to know. What can Vinny possibly say for himself?

Jude. I wrote the song for you. I didn’t mean to steal your tune - honest to god, I didn’t. But when I found out, I thought it was fitting that we’d worked on it together. (“Together”)

Jude, the song is up to your interpretation, but it’s yours. I wrote it from my core, and it’s yours. Charge your fucking phone and check the lyrics I sent you.

Take a shower, and call me when you’re ready. You have a few days’ worth of takeout in the fridge. Please take care of your health; I know you’re not right now. I mean it in the best way.

It cuts off there. Unceremonious and blunt, and so very him. She hates it very much.

Y Nhi charges her phone while she showers. Working quickly because she’s so unsteady on her feet, she does the bare minimum before stumbling into the kitchen for food.

While she nibbles on the stir fried noodles he left, she pens her own note.

Vinny,

I will not read the lyrics. I don’t want to know, and you don’t have to pretend it’s about me.

Your joke took two years to reach completion. Congratulations. I hope I was amusing and that my downfall wall be the stunning conclusion you wanted.

She tapes it on her front door so he’ll see it the next time he comes over. Soon, probably.

Momentarily, she wonders if she’s being rash. Is it so impossible to think that he could find romantic attraction to her?

Then she remembers. Y Nhi is not built to be loved, if her history is anything to go by. Even if she’s wrong, even if Vinny loves her for real, she will resist. Losing him this way is better than the alternative: watching him dissolve to some monstrosity while loving her.

-

Nothing changes after that. Apart from Vinny’s absence from her apartment, they interact in exactly the same way.

Vinny says something borderline rude.

Y Nhi retorts with something blatantly rude.

They laugh about it and move along.

There are no gentle touches to avoid because Vinny rarely touched her to begin with - despite the way he slings his arm around everyone else, he wasn’t like that with her. No arm around her shoulder, no hugs, not even extended contact with her hair.

Y Nhi pretends not to notice when he goes through a full dinner with an arm draped over the back of his friend Justin’s chair. He leans on it, adding the tiniest space between himself and Y Nhi. He still passes her the condiments and spices she likes before she asks for them. He takes her home at the end of it.

This should be enough. Up until now, it always had been. These tiny acts were his long distance hugs. It had always been enough, but now it isn’t, and Y Nhi doesn’t know what to do.

Isn’t this what you wanted? For him to get a life away from you?

“How’s that girl?” She asks on the way home, just because the silence is killing her and perhaps because she’s a masochist. “The one you wrote the song for?”

Vinny looks at her for a brief moment, something like grief in his eyes. It’s a confusing expression. “She hasn’t really talked to me since.”

Y Nhi tries not to sit straighter at this revelation. “Oh, really? Hm. That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

Something about the word is profoundly heartbroken. She can almost feel the emotions hurtling off him in waves, but he doesn’t lash out at her. All it does is enclose each passenger of the car in a separate bubble. This is the closest they’ve been in a long time, but Y Nhi has never felt so isolated.

Her throat constricts, and her hands start to shake. “Do you… Know why?”

Vinny thinks for a moment, tapping his fingers on the wheel. “I think she doesn’t believe me. But I don’t really think it’s me, I think she thinks that love is meant for everyone except herself. She’s pretty bent on self-destruction now, as far as I can tell - No, don’t say anything yet.”

Every girl Vinny’s talked to in the last week pops up in her mind. Which of them seems most self-destructive? If she can’t keep herself by his side, he should at least have someone who can care for him. She could talk to them, probably, if she knew who it was.

“I… She thinks this is sudden, but I’ve been in love with her since I was fifteen. Or something. Like it kind of just happened over time, and I thought she knew.”

Fifteen means Vinny’s been futilely in love with someone else while she fell for the guy who ended up cheating on her.

They were happy in high school. It was college that broke them. Distance. The communications became less frequent in an inverse relationship to Y Nhi’s alcohol intake. Her grades suffered, and she convinced herself that she was too stupid for higher education. On his birthday, she drove for hours to his dorm to surprise him, only to find him making out with another girl. Sober.

Not that any level of inebriation could excuse him, but perhaps it would’ve hurt a little less.

Vinny isn’t done. “I fucking cut fruit for her every time we hung out. I did her dishes sometimes. I don’t know, I- I thought I did everything right. My mom thought I was doing everything right.”

“You tell your mom about your love life?”

Y Nhi doesn’t. Her parents don’t care enough to know anything about it beyond that she let go of a future doctor and that she’ll never find another because she’s past her prime. That’s what it feels like, anyway.

She’s literally twenty four. She has time.

“Not really. But they’ve met.” Vinny parks the car in front of her apartment, but he makes no move to get out or to let Y Nhi get out. “Jude, listen to me.”

“I’m listening,” she says. Training her eyes on her kitchen window, she thinks about the dishes she hasn’t done yet, the fruit she hasn’t cut yet, and how she hates thinking about it because it reminds her Vinny is fading.

Human adaptability is a remarkable thing. One more week, and this new normalcy will cement itself.

“The girl I love is you. Okay? I’ve walked around the topic for years, and I understand if you’re still not ready for it. But I know you’re getting the wrong idea in that head of yours. It’s you, and it’s always been you, and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it if you let me. I’ll also bow out forever if that’s what you need from me. But I need you to talk to me. I-”

Holy shit, is he about to cry? With wild eyes, she glances at him. If she’s made him cry, he’ll return the favor five-fold. No, she backtracks. That’s not Vinny. That’s the behavior of her second ex, the one that reduced her to a stiff puppet of a girl.

“Come back to me,” he says in a small, strangled voice. “I don’t even care if you break me in the process, but please come back to me. You can do whatever you want, as long as you do it by my side.”

For the longest moment, they say nothing. Then Y Nhi opens the car door. “Can you cut my strawberries for me? They taste better when you cut them.”

-

Vinny washes her dishes and her strawberries and quarters the already small fruit for her. He deposits the snacks in front of her and watches her eat - slowly, since they’ve just come back from dinner, after all.

“So it’s me?”

“Always has been.”

“And you never said anything.”

“I did. You ignored it on purpose.”

“No, I’m just a stupid hoe.”

“You’re not stupid. Or a hoe.”

“You’re always calling me stupid.”

“Not like that, stupid.”

“You’re going to have to undo a lot of damage if we date.”

“I know. I’ve been working on it already, didn’t you notice?”

“Yeah, but it’s gonna get worse if we date.”

“Have you considered therapy?”

“Vinny, I’ll be a pariah.”

“A happy one, maybe.” Hesitantly, he reaches for one of her hands. Halfway, he flips the palm up and waits for her to complete the gesture on her own. “You don’t have to decide right away. It’s just a thought.”

She puts her hand in his a little too eagerly, then pulls back a little too harshly. It feels like touching the flame of a candle.

A defeated look momentarily crosses Vinny’s eyes, but Y Nhi barely has the time to look at it before she steels her nerves and takes hold of his hand again. The coldness of his rings grounds her somehow. “We need a list,” Y Nhi says, “of things. First, you’re going to Google touch starvation.”

Her best friend jerks in a little victorious motion, jamming his knee unceremoniously on the table leg as he does. “Fuck, that hurt.”

“What was that about?”

“I wasn’t sure if you were actually touch starved or if you didn’t like men touching you.”

“And you didn’t ask?” Y Nhi is incredulous.

“How am I supposed to ask? ‘Jude, when I touch you, does it remind you of your sleazy ex boyfriends?’ You’d say no. Like a liar. Or so I thought.” He pauses. “Anyway, this means I can hug you now, right? 24/7.”

“If you ease into it.”

“And you’ll stop wearing those gigantic shirts that literally drown you.”

“...No. What?”

“Okay, never mind, nothing. What else? What other boundaries do we have?”

Of all questions she’s been asked today, this one is probably the most confusing. Her previous relationships are no help; she hasn’t exactly had the best exposure to “healthy relationships.” She’s aware that the bare minimum counts as decadence for her, so the question has her a little frozen.

After watching her face flicker through whatever emotions it’s displaying, Vinny rubs a thumb over her knuckles. “How about this: I have a specific thing I want your help with, and when things come up, we can talk about it.”

Y Nhi nods, though they both know she won’t talk about shit. But perhaps watching Vinny sort out whatever issue he needs sorted will give her inspiration on how to approach this. “Can we-?” She starts and stops abruptly.

Vinny blinks, then feeds her a strawberry slice. “Go ahead.” It’s a tactful move. Putting food in her mouth means she has to chew, meaning she has a few more seconds to gather herself and her thoughts, or at the very least, the desire to continue speaking.

“Can we not label this?” She finishes. “Whatever is between us.”

To her surprise, Vinny nods and acts like she hasn’t asked the bitchiest question of the night. “Sure.” You can do whatever you want, he’d said, as long as you do it by my side.

“And… Get rid of Jude.”

“What?”

“Jude. You remember why I picked that name?”

“Because of some fictional fairy queen that had the same name? You thought she was a conniving boss ass bitch and-”

“Shut up. Saint Jude. Patron saint of?”

Technically speaking, he hasn’t been wrong about the fairy queen bit. Unlike the suckers who fell for Cardan Greenbriar, Y Nhi’s wimpy ass was all in for Jude Duarte, mortal queen of the fae. And it was easier to admit that than to admit the truth that was dawning on Vinny’s face in 3… 2...

“Hopeless causes,” Vinny answers easily. Then his expression sobers. “Oh.”

Y Nhi nods. “But the me with you isn’t a hopeless cause. I don’t want her to be, anyway.”

There’s a lot that goes unsaid, but she’s certain Vinny hears it. Logically, she can’t keep relying on whatever instinct says, He’ll understand because he’s Vinny, but up to this point, it should work out okay.

Gently, he says, “Y Nhi,” reacquainting himself with the syllables of her given name. “Y Nhi.”

“Yes, Vinny?” She says just as gently.

He lowers his voice to a husky whisper, “You’ve never been a hopeless cause. You were a cause for hope.”

-

Vinny’s request is this: that Y Nhi teach him to be soft again.

The request makes her question if she and Vinny exist in the same dimension because who the hell convinced him he wasn’t soft? Hardened, prickly souls don’t master winged eyeliner for the sake of their loved ones. They don’t volunteer extra hours at Vacation Bible School while working graveyard shifts at the hospital. Don’t do the dishes because as much as they hate them, their roommate hates them more.

Vinny is soft, and Y Nhi is out for blood. “I need names, Vincent. And addresses if you have them.”

“My ex,” he says.

An awkward sound emerges from Y Nhi’s throat.

He raises an eyebrow at her. “What? I dated around. Didn’t think I should be hung up on you, but nothing ever went as planned. Anyway, my one ex did a really good job making me become someone I wasn’t. I didn’t like the person she made me, but it was kind of too late to turn around.”

Again, Y Nhi is confused. The narrative is promising, though, so she lets him continue in hopes that it’ll clear something up.

“If you don’t know me, how would you describe me?”

“Vinny.” She doesn’t have an answer, she just doesn’t want to say it. It’s not all good, and they just came back from an awkward fight. Was it a fight?

They’ve slipped back into their normal existence so easily. Nothing has changed, but at the same time, everything has.

“Just- The rings and the black and the tattoos. You’d think I drove a motorcycle or something, right?”

“You drive a Lexus. It’s the same in terms of your fuck boy vibes.”

“Y Nhi!”

“BMW would’ve sealed the deal. How many Hennessys do you drink a night, again?”

A pout settles on his face. She likes this version of him. “I see you get my point. I look like a baddie.”

“Yeah. Bad at life.”

“I swear to god.”

“Don’t do that, that’s a sin. Don’t use the lord’s name in vain and all.”

“Anyway. You of all people know I am soft, actually. She didn’t like that. And so I gained a second personality and-”

It’s rude, the way Y Nhi interrupts, but Vinny doesn’t seem to mind at all. “So if you’re always soft, what’s left for me to help you with?”

“You’ll see,” he says. “Actually. No, I’m going to tell you. I get embarrassed about my relationships. So if it ever looks like I’m pushing you away… I’m just really fucking embarrassed, at least for this first stage. Do what you will with that.”

- bonus/epilogue -

They return home for Y Nhi’s mom’s birthday. They’ve always rode home together, since they are neighbors no matter where they are. No one finds it odd that they hold hands more than before, that Y Nhi is still averse to touching everyone but him.

They appear at social events hanging on each other’s arms. Commentary about their status as a “married couple” breeze over their heads, but they never confirm nor deny anything. In public, they remain aloof to each other. They show tenderness in only the smallest of gestures.

In private, they are as they ever were. Vinny still does her eyeliner on her bad days, but now she cuddles him on the couch on his bad days. Between the two of them, there are a lot of bad days, days when they almost threw in the towel.

But they didn’t. Instead, they’ve introduced all manner of pet names (Vinny’s favorites to use are love, darling, and lately, em. Y Nhi’s favorites are Vinny and anh). They write songs to each other, for each other, with each other. Every morning, they make the choice to keep loving each other the way they have since they were fifteen - and while they joke that they wasted so much time, it was a necessary time for them to spend apart to learn how to exist together and how to choose each other even when it’s the harder choice than letting go.

Even I get lonely too

It’s not hard

Every question’s got an answer

And mine is you

Where you go then I will follow

All my life

You’re the name that I will whisper to the night

[adifferenttime]

Honest Hearts: A Rough Rewrite

Hey! I’ve been working on an Honest Hearts rewrite-type-thing for a bit and figured I’d solicit feedback/assemble a post to store some of these ideas.

A detailed explanation of the premise is under the cut, but I’ve made this as a more interesting reintroduction to major locations, along with the characters who live there. I also have some lore consisting of letters, scripture, and holotapes that’s still in the early stages, along with a complete companion wheel for Salt-Upon-Wounds (he’ll follow you around for a little if you decide to help him out). Endings are now finished as well. I’m not planning on expanding this into a full mod, but I’m assembling everything in Twine so I can utilize branching dialogue and mimic skill checks.

I want to keep adding to and editing this because I’m having fun with it, so if you have any input, let me know!

Essentially, the story proceeds as written up until the point where Daniel sends you to either kill the White Legs or destroy their war totems. You quickly realize that their camp is deserted, at which point Salt-Upon-Wounds ambushes you, convo-locks you, and tells you that there’s an entirely different side to things here that you might not have considered.

Factions

The Mormons have established a theocracy in the Utah called Deseret, with New Jerusalem - what was once Salt Lake City - as its capital. Large numbers of them survived the initial apocalypse due to their pre-War focus on strong community ties and disaster prepping; over time, they have returned to the model of self-sufficient agrarianism that characterized the historical Mormon state of Deseret that existed in Utah in the 1800s. Their President, who wields supreme executive power, is also their Prophet. The Mormons believe he communes directly with God, but there’s some discontent in New Jerusalem over his hands-off approach to foreign policy and unwillingness to assemble a standing army. The Elders of the Priesthood are pushing him to allow for some kind of formal military to oppose what they see as revived versions of their ancestral enemies: America, Rome, and the “Lamanites” (this is what Mormons call Indigenous Americans; the “Lamanite” idea has historically been used as a justification for racism, and I’m reflecting that here because it’d be kind of heinous not to). In more than a few respects, Deseret serves as a mirror to the Legion and an exploration of the other side of the coin re: the tactics utilized by colonial empires to present themselves as legitimate while still claiming territory and steamrolling the opposition.

The White Legs are now more explicitly Shoshone, and I’m relying most heavily on the Timpanagos Band for names and historical inspiration (apparently the question of whether they’re Ute or Shoshone is pretty controversial, but I’m sticking with what the Timpanagos have said about it until someone corrects me). After migrating south in the wake of the Great War, the White Legs eventually settled in Ogden, about a day north of New Jerusalem. Initial interactions with the Mormons were friendly, but as New Jerusalem grew and its need for farmland and resources increased, tensions rose before culminating in open violence in around ‘76 or ‘77. Deseret’s party line is that the White Legs conducted a “raid” on one of their settlements and had to be driven away from Ogden; the White Legs claim the violence was not a raid, but a revenge killing after a Mormon killed a young man and was found not guilty by Mormon legal authorities (this is a theocracy, so “legal authorities” here can be understood as indistinct from “the church”). The Mormons established a new settlement on the ruins of Ogden, which they called New Canaan, and the White Legs fled to Salt Lake, where they have been dwindling in number ever since. Salt-Upon-Wounds’ plan to seek entry to the Legion is a last-ditch attempt to save his people from eradication when their neighbors and the land itself seems intent on killing them (not that that makes all the war crimes ok, which is a sentiment you’ll be able to express to his face if you engage him in conversation).

The Dead Horses are a pastoral society from out of Dead Horse Point, and are split almost down the middle along political lines. The more conservative, religious side opposes intervention in Zion. Graham desecrates the corpses of his enemies as an intimidation tactic, and because the Dead Horses’ religion is so eschatological and heavily focused on properly cleaning, preparing, and interring the dead, a big chunk of the religious leadership opposes him on that basis - they think his tactics are ungodly. They’re also worried that any Dead Horses who die in Zion and are interred there will be severed from their connection to Dead Horse Point and doomed to a separate, lonely afterlife. The younger, more progressive elements of the tribe are less traditionalist, sometimes less religious, and overall not as concerned about Graham’s treatment of the dead because of the potential benefit they might be able to derive from him. Follows-Chalk is their de facto leader, and while the Dead Horses don’t formally allocate political power, he’s among the most influential people in the informal tribal leadership. Most of the Dead Horses who’ve come to Zion have done so either because they support Follows-Chalk politically, or for practical reasons - namely, Graham’s access to a dizzying number of guns and his willingness to give them to anyone who’ll fight for him.

The Sorrows are now a terrace-farming agrarian society instead of hunter-gatherers (Zion has a lot of agricultural potential, and there’s already a few farming plots in the Sorrows camp you see in-game, so it’s not a huge departure from the canon). I’m keeping their Mexican heritage, but I’d like to give them some Ainu influences as well - partially for selfish reasons, but also because bears are extremely important to our culture and theology, which gels well with the elements of Sorrows culture and religion that appear in the canon. I’d like to keep the Survivalist because I like him, but I want to expand on their faith. One of the ways I’m doing that is by deciding they can still read English, even though they no longer speak it; it’s basically their equivalent of liturgical Latin. They’re also rigidly matriarchal and in contrast to the Dead Horses (who eschew formal political hierarchies) or the White Legs (who elect a chief who serves until he dies, is deposed, or voluntarily abdicates), leadership positions are allocated through matrilineal primogeniture; Waking Cloud inherited her position from her mother. Religious leadership, likewise, is only available to women. You’ll be able to talk to Waking Cloud about some of the ways this framework is incompatible with the Mormon perspective, and can appeal to her desire to retain power.

Characters

Canon Characters

Joshua Graham and Daniel are largely unaltered except through the addition of lore that gives insight into their cultures, motives, and pasts.

All three tribal leaders (Follows-Chalk, Waking Cloud, and Salt-Upon-Wounds) are either given new backstories, a different set of motives, or different approaches to one another/Graham and Daniel. They’re also explicitly leaders now - what power Graham and Daniel have, they derive from whichever tribal leader they’ve managed to attach themselves to. Of those three, I’m altering Waking Cloud the least and Salt-Upon-Wounds the most. Like I mentioned, I have a companion wheel for him so far and the bones of two other conversations - one, where you meet him for the first time, and the second, where you speak to him before the final battle. Will link as I finish them.

Original Characters

Each tribal leader now has a rival or right hand within their tribe so I can reflect the different ways the values of a specific community can express themselves.

Follows-Chalk’s primary rival among the Dead Horses is a man who refuses to tell you his name. That’s because using someone’s name in casual conversation is considered unspeakably rude, and the fact that Follows-Chalk is willing to share his own with you is, to Mysteriously Named Old Man Character, yet another sign of how disrespectful and laissez-faire Follows-Chalk is about their shared traditions. Old Man Character is suspicious of you initially, but if you speak to him more he starts to warm to you. The goal is to give you a sense that this he’s pretty xenophobic but for good reasons, and despite his political conflicts with Follows-Chalk, has a lot of love for him. He just wants what’s best for his family, and Follows-Chalk is part of that, even if Mysteriously Named Old Man Character thinks he’s making the wrong choices.

Kiiki is Salt-Upon-Wounds’ right-hand woman and intended as a contrast re: the approach to war and its costs. Salt-Upon-Wounds has done some horrible things and gets a fair bit of dialogue about that, but Kiiki is willing to go even further than he has with very little prompting. Her chief copes with what he’s done by trying to assure himself that the ends of war are worth the cost; Kiiki deals with it by trying to convince herself that the means weren't so bad, actually, and that anyone who isn’t nailing corpses to walls is being naive. All of that makes her sound pretty shitty, but she’s nowhere near as devoted to the idea of a Legion alliance as Salt-Upon-Wounds is. It only takes one very low Speech check to convince her that going Legion is a bad move, and one of the paths involves assassinating Salt-Upon-Wounds and installing her as the new leader as a way to stop the White Legs from joining Caesar. I haven’t added this path to the ending Twine because I’d like to finish Kiiki’s dialogues before I do that.

I’m replacing White Bird as the Sorrow’s spiritual leader with a woman named Imekanu. She’s incredibly old, savvy, and knowledgeable - she’s never been outside Zion, but has a store of books in English, Spanish, and Japanese that have allowed her some insight into what caused the war, if not the current state of the world. She’s also aware of the Survivalist’s origins - not because she’s entered any of his hideouts, but because she’s read over the scriptures and has correctly identified them as letters. Her perspective is that the Father in the Caves was a human being, but that doesn’t diminish his religious value. She sees him as analogous to the Buddha or a Catholic saint: human, sure, but still with access to some deeper truths about the purpose of man and the nature of human goodness. You’ll discover that this idea (that the Survivalist was a holy man rather than a literal god) is the most common perspective among the Sorrows, and you can talk to her about how this departs from Daniel’s perspective that the archetypal Father is divine, not human.

Quests

Each tribe has a specific quest that will either lower or bypass some of the penultimate checks that will determine your ending (people are more likely to believe what you’re telling them if you’ve already won their trust).

The Dead Horses: Joshua Graham has been putting the heads of the fallen up on pikes across Zion. The Dead Horses’ religion is deeply concerned with proper treatment of the deceased, and Graham’s decision to desecrate the corpses of his enemies goes against virtually everything they believe. The old man who won’t tell you his name asks you to take the heads off of the pikes and bury them deep in Zion, and to bring Follows-Chalk with you so you’ll have someone to tell you how to treat them properly. Over the course of the quest, Follows-Chalk will share some of his own beliefs about death, and you’ll have the opportunity to share your own. If you complete this quest without sabotaging it, Follows-Chalk will be willing to betray Graham to the White Legs before the final battle.

The Sorrows: This is basically just Ghost of She, but after defeating the Yao Guai you’ll discover a holotape revealing that the girl wasn’t killed by the bear, but by one of the murderers from Vault 22. Waking Cloud will speculate that maybe the Yao Guai wasn’t the ghost of the little girl at all but some other force that wanted to push you to discover the truth. If you wait until the end to tell Waking Cloud about the death of her husband, you’ll have to pass a Speech check of 75 to convince her you’re telling her the truth; completing this quest drops the check to 50.

The White Legs: Salt-Upon-Wounds will ask you to help him sabotage the Mormons’ preparations for the battle. If you help him with this, it’ll drop the Speech check for you to convince him to leave from 100 to 80. It’s not necessary at all to get the tribal confederacy ending, but a new note will appear in your inventory if you finish it and meet a couple other requirements (asking him certain questions, not attempting that one Speech check about religion, etc).

Endings

I’m trying to incorporate as much variety as possible, but there are three main ending paths: siding with the White Legs, siding with the other two tribes, and peace. The basic idea is that the outcome is predicated less on your direct intervention, and more on how other people act based on the facts they have available to them. Most of your influence is through your choices to hide or reveal key pieces of information, and the skill checks you need to access certain endings are less you convincing a character to do something and more convincing a character to believe you’re telling them the truth. There’s one major exception to this, it requires maxed Speech, and the ending it gives you is markedly bittersweet because you’re trying to get a guy to act against his own best interest. I’m writing all the endings up here, and will probably edit them as things change. The post where I explain them in more depth can be found here.

And that’s the story so far! Thank you for reading, and again: if there’s anything here you think is poorly-conceived, let me know. Thank you to @baelpenrose, who’s a grad student in the history of the American West, for helping me workshop a lot of this stuff. If you’ve got expert knowledge on any of the concepts I touch on or are personally a member of any of the groups I’m describing, please feel free to hmu: anon is on, and you’re always welcome to DM me. I’m just doing this for fun, but I still want it to be as not-shit as possible.

[mostlycompetentwriter]

“For You” - A Sunshine Sequel

M/F Pairing: Felix and Kara (OC)

Word Count: 8K

Warnings: smut (they have sex without a condom), language, alcohol use, minor mentions of violence (like maybe a line or two)

Genre: Romance AU; Sequel

Summary: Yeah, Felix got the message: Kara is bad news. He’s been crushing on her for years, and every time they come together, there’s always something, or someone, ready to pull them apart. But when Kara shows up at his apartment door one night drenched from the rain, Felix can’t resist inviting her into his life again. However, this time Kara insists that she’s serious about a relationship, but can they convince the others of her honesty?

Felix had a lot of regrets in his life, but he also didn’t know a person alive who could proudly support every major decision that had some impact on their future.

For instance, when Felix turned sixteen, he totaled his step-mother’s car after sneaking out with Minho to attend a college party. His parents were rightfully furious with him, and Felix was forced to take a summer job to pay for the damages. But then again, those kinds of mistakes never left a lasting mark, and Felix had come to the realization that it was often the people in your life who created the biggest impact.

Ever since he could remember, there was always someone who hurt him in some way, whether or not it was deserved. But none of those people could hold a candle in comparison to Changbin’s little sister. Because Kara Seo managed to worm her way into his life, and Felix was never the same after he found himself falling head over heels for the younger girl.

Throughout their history together, it was always Kara who gave up on them, leaving him for other guys or ignoring Felix’s attempts to try and become even closer. It molded him into the cautious person that he was when it came to relationships, and she managed to effectively snatch his heart straight out of his chest, returning it several times over with more bruises and scratches.

Yet, when Felix saw Kara Seo standing outside of his apartment one evening after months of being incognito, drenched to the bone from the rain, Felix made another questionable decision when he pulled her into the living room by the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

“Let’s warm you up,” Felix said, and it was an instinctual reaction to bring her into his living room while he made something warm in the kitchen.

“Thank you,” Kara said, and she sat next to Felix on the sofa with a warm cup of coffee between her hands as an uncomfortable silence made everything even more awkward. But that’s to be expected after an entire year of radio silence from Kara Seo. Especially since the last time she and Felix had tried things out together, their relationship ended in disaster following Y/N and Changbin’s intervention.

“How have you been, Kara?” Felix asked, wincing when his voice broke the tension hanging in the air.

“Not so good,” Kara replied, and she looked down at her beverage. “Yeah, things kinda went south for me after I went back home.”

“You mean, after the last time you left,” Felix said, and he remembered Kara’s unexpected excursion in the city with her brother - when she and Felix had tried to date in secret. But Felix’s step-sister ensured that the relationship died in dramatic fashion, and she sent Kara high-tailing it back to the suburbs.

“Right,” Kara acknowledged. “I’m really sorry about that.”

Felix frowned because they were empty words in his opinion, especially since Kara had a track record of running away when things got too scary or difficult for her to manage. He supposed that one could blame it on her immaturity and inexperience, but she was in her mid-twenties at this point, and that excuse didn’t really work anymore.

“What are your plans this time?”

“I’m not sure,” Kara said, and she shivered before taking a sip of her drink, but Felix wasn’t quite sure if the motion was due to the cold or because she was thinking of something that she didn’t like.

“Can I ask why you decided to come back?” Felix ventured before trying to re-frame the question. “What made you leave home?”

“I’m always drawn back,” Kara admitted, and she gave Felix a vulnerable stare. “I think it’s because of you.”

“M-me?” Felix spluttered, and shock coursed through his veins as he tried to figure out what the actual hell Kara could mean by that statement.

“It makes sense,” Kara said with a loose shrug. “Okay, maybe not to you or anyone else, but it does to me.”

But Felix didn’t really know how to respond to her confession, so he swallowed down the remaining questions with a long pull from his beer bottle. 

“I was really mean to you, Felix,” Kara continued, and she dropped her hand down on top of his with one smooth motion. 

Felix was just grateful that he hadn’t gone for another drink because he would’ve surely choked to death following the sensation of her touch.

“I’m just as guilty for always believing you,” Felix said, and he knew that it was a harsh statement. Because even Kara looked taken aback, returning her hand to her own lap as she nodded.

“You’re right,” Kara said. “You deserve to be angry with me, but I want you to know that I’ve been thinking about these things for a while since the last time I left.”

“And?”

“I guess I realized that it never made sense in my mind,” Kara explained. “To me, I’ve always had this notion of doing things on my own, and the idea of entertaining a relationship made it seem like my future belonged to someone else.”

Felix scoffed at the selfish reasoning. “There’s nothing wrong with sharing your life with other people.”

“I guess it should seem obvious,” Kara said. “Maybe that’s what I’ve been missing, and I’ve always tried to avoid it when things started to feel like I was losing control. Like the emotions you made me feel, they can be very powerful, and I guess I didn’t like that.”

“So?” Felix asked. “Why did you even come visit me, then?”

“Because I want to be a better person,” Kara said, and she nodded her head in some semblance of determination. “I think you can help me.”

“Really?” Felix chuckled. “How can I do that?”

“I want to try a relationship with you again,” Kara said, but Felix was already groaning and attempting to put an end to the conversation. “Please, Felix,” Kara said, grabbing his arm when he tried to stand up. “I know that you have no right to trust me, but I’m being sincere this time! I’m almost thirty-years-old, and I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Felix cursed because his heart had always been weak for Changbin’s little sister, and he was already floating back to her like there was some kind of invisible magnetism between them. “This is your last chance,” Felix said, but Kara was already pulling him into her arms, whispering sweet little words of affection into the collar of his sweater.

Felix wouldn’t say that he’s bad at keeping secrets, but he’s also surprised by how easy his tentative relationship with Kara had been progressing over the past two weeks.

For the most part, he felt that Kara was genuinely trying to do better this time, and they weren’t rushing through the stages like they had done in prior iterations of their couplings. But Felix was also being overcautious, and he was determined to do everything right on his part.

However, at his core, he was just a man, and Kara was always testing his patience when she insisted on wearing nothing but one of his over-sized college shorts and a tiny pair of panties around the apartment.

“Good morning,” she said, emerging from the bedroom while Felix stood over the stove attempting to make breakfast.

Of course, his attention was immediately stolen away by the image of Kara’s bare legs, and he was suddenly much less interested in cooking eggs. “Hey,” Felix said around an embarrassing voice break.

“Cute,” Kara giggled, settling down behind the bar as she drummed her fingers against the marble surface. “It was cold in bed without you.”

“Oh,” Felix remarked because he always full of intelligent remarks with a semi-erection forming in his sleeping shorts. “Sorry, I’m used to getting up early for the studio.”

“Hmmm...” Kara grinned. “That seems to be going well from what I’ve seen.”

“Yeah, Minho and I have full classes,” Felix said, and he turned off the stove before the pan could burst into flames from his negligence.

“Did you make something for me?” Kara asked, and Felix hesitated when she started walking in his direction, rushing to clean the frying pan in the sink.

“Uh, did you want me to make like bacon or...” Felix trailed off, dropping the pan when one of Kara’s arms wrapped around his waist to touch him over the front of his shorts.

“Can you really cook like this, Lixie?” she asked, and her voice was breathy in his ears.

“Are you trying to break me?” Felix asked, turning around in her arms to connect their lips in a wet, messy kiss that rocked Felix in every sense of the word.

“You’re so handsome,” Kara whispered against him, and Felix basked in her praise as he led them both to the living room.

Kara let out a squeal when Felix broke their intimate contact, pushing against her shoulders to send her falling down onto the couch. “I want you to suck my cock,” Felix said, and he was quickly working down the hem of his shorts when Kara released a whine. “What?”

“I, uh, I don’t know how to do that...” Kara said, and she looked down at the impressive erection that Felix was sporting in the confines of his boxer shorts.

But instead of dissuading Felix’ desires, Kara only served to turn him on even more. “It’s alright,” Felix said, and he took her hand in a gentle squeeze. Of course, the confession surprised him, and it forced Felix to realize that in the past he and Kara had never really gone much past stray kisses or touches over their clothes. “I can teach you,” Felix said, and he wasn’t quite sure where those words had come from, but Kara was nodding her head enthusiastically as she grabbed Felix by his hips to lead him closer.

“I want to make you feel good,” Kara said, and she was slowly tugging down the waistband of his boxer shorts.

“Shit, okay,” Felix said, feeling his heart thundering inside his chest while he reached down for the base of his erection, giving himself a few strokes while looking into Kara’s eyes. “Open your mouth.”

Kara obeyed, sticking out her tongue, and Felix groaned at the obscene sight. “Here we go,” he said, and he led just the tip of his cock between her full lips. “We can start easy.”

Kara nodded, and her face contorted into one of complete concentration as she puckered her lips around him. Felix shivered at the feeling of her tongue exploring the slit, and he carefully roped his fingers into her hair to take control of her movements. “Careful,” he murmured, watching as more of his cock disappeared inside her mouth.

But maybe Kara knew more than what she was letting on because Felix was ascending to cloud nine as she worked her mouth around him, tongue flicking out to trace the shape and taste the beads of pre-cum that were leaking from his tip the longer she kept up with her ministrations. It was unbelievably good, and the visual itself of Kara sucking him off would be enough to fuel Felix’s more explicit fantasies, but he imagined that just the mere idea of it being Kara pleasuring his cock made everything even better.

He tossed his head back in ecstasy, feeling his body warm all over as he resisted the urge to move his hips and force Kara to take more than what she was ready to endure. But it was becoming too much, and Felix had reached the end of the rope guiding him to his orgasm, and he was desperately following that rope to the very end where white-hot pleasure was coiling tight in his balls.

“I need to pull off,” Felix said when he felt those coils beginning to unwind, but Kara dug her fingernails into his hips and hollowed her cheeks to suck even harder, testing Felix’s patience with this whole teaching thing. Because Kara seemed determined to ruin him, and maybe Felix was foolish for giving her the chance to do it again, but he didn’t care in the moment.

He moaned Kara’s name when he came, emptying his cum at the back of her throat, and moving back when she started to gag around him. “Are you okay?” he asked, staggering between his own two feet because he was so blissed out, but Kara simply pressed a teasing kiss to his weeping tip.

“I’ve never been better,” she said, voice scratchy from Felix’s abuse, but her smile was radiant. 

It was nothing like what he had been expecting, and Felix collapsed next to Kara with a shaky exhale.

Unfortunately, all goods things eventually came to an end, and the threat of their relationship’s discovery happened when Felix stupidly answered a phone call from Y/N late at night.

In his defense, he was still light-headed after spending what seemed like hours between Kara’s thighs, bringing her to a record three orgasms with just his tongue and fingers. 

“Hello?” Felix grumbled into the receiver, glancing to his side to see that Kara was still fast asleep next to him.

“Kara’s back,” Y/N’s voice greeted him from the other end, and Felix winced at her shrill tone.

“W-what?”

“You heard me,” Y/N growled, and Felix sighed because his step-sister had been moody lately with her pregnancy hormones. 

“Why are you calling me at 3 in the morning?” Felix groaned, and he tried to keep his voice down to avoid disturbing Kara.

“Because this is a big deal!” Y/N exclaimed. “She called Changbin earlier and told him that she wanted to visit!”

“Really?” Felix asked, trying to sound surprised even though Kara had already sat him down and talked about reuniting with her brother.

“This is a code red situation!” Y/N continued. “I’m talking you need to lock your doors and only leave to work at the dance studio.”

“I don’t think it’s that serious,” Felix muttered, but Y/N was having none of his rationalities, and Felix couldn’t even begin to imagine Y/N’s reaction if she were to find out that the woman in question was sleeping right next to him.

“If she tries to approach you, then run in the opposite direction! Call me, and I’ll bring reinforcements.”

“Like who? Jisung?” Felix scoffed. “Y/N, don’t worry about it, okay? I can take care of myself.”

“But last time-”

“Stop worrying,” Felix interrupted. “I’m serious! And I’m ten seconds away from calling Jisung and demanding that he take away your phone privileges.”

“Like he would punish me,” Y/N said, and Felix begrudgingly had to admit that there weren’t very many things Han Jisung would deny his step-sister. 

“Why is your first instinct to call me?”

“Because she’s evil!” Y/N declared. “She takes advantage of you, Felix!”

“It’s all in the past,” Felix said, and Y/N sighed loudly at that.

“This is why my instincts tell me to look after you,” Y/N said. “Seriously? Do I have to come over there and knock some sense into you?”

“I don’t think that’s necessary?” Felix winced, and he couldn’t even imagine the idea of Y/N and Jisung showing up to his apartment while Kara hid inside his bedroom.

“Fine,” Y/N grumbled. “I’m coming over to the studio tomorrow and we’re talking about this!”

“Y/N-”

But she had already hung up the phone, and Felix glared at the screen while Kara stirred next to him in bed. “Felix?” she whispered, and Felix quickly tossed his phone onto the nightstand before slinking back down next to Kara.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“I was,” Kara said, but there was a coy smile on her face when she pressed her lips lightly against his. “But I’m awake now.”

“Mmm,” Felix acknowledged, chasing the sweet taste of her mouth. “I’m sorry about the call.”

“Don’t worry,” Kara said, and she threw one leg over his hip while bringing his other hand down to the front of her soaked panties. “As long as you’re willing to make it up to me.”

Felix chuckled, turning onto his side before shoving his hand beneath the waistband of her underwear with another sensual kiss. “It’s the least I can do,” Felix said, and he was perfectly content with their steady exchanges of affection while Felix played with her clitoris, twisting the nub between his fingers.

“Felix,” Kara eventually whined, and she reached down for his wrist, pushing him onto his back before crawling over his hips and grinding herself down against his erection. “Do you want to try something different?”

Felix hesitated, running his hands along Kara’s waist. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Kara said, smoothing another kiss over his lips. “I want you have sex with you.”

Felix groaned, feeling his cock twitch at the innocent demand. “I’d love that.”

“Please,” Kara added, and Felix was losing his mind over how good she felt moving against his cock, even if it was between layers of unnecessary fabric. “Just go slow,” she requested, and Felix nodded fiercely to show his understanding.

It might seem unexpected, but Felix and Kara had shared many conversations about sex during the past few days. Of course, he was shocked to learn that Kara was very inexperienced, especially considering her complicated dating history during high school and college. But Felix was the last person in the world who would ever judge someone, and he simply listened to her explain everything with an open mind.

It had all led up to this moment, after all, and Felix was a man starved for attention as he tried to keep up with Kara’s demands for more kisses. But it was hard to focus on keeping their lips connected while he helped Kara remove her own clothes before attending to the difficult situation of his zipper. Thankfully, he managed to loosen his jeans, tossing them down his legs until they ended up in a pile on the floor with his boxer shorts on top.

“You’re hard,” Kara said when Felix sat back on his haunches, trying not to lose his control at the sight of Kara practically dripping for him onto the sheets.

“It’s been a while,” Felix explained, and he reached over into the nightstand for a condom while his other hand teased a finger inside of her wet opening.

“Felix!” Kara whined, and he was hurriedly trying to speed things along. But that was proving to be difficult the longer he continued to fumble with the aluminum wrapper of the condom, cursing under his breath when Kara continued to jerk him off with steady swipes of her hand.

“It’s okay,” Kara whispered. “You can just pull out.”

“Are you sure?” Felix asked, even as he was already tossing aside the stupid condom to spread Kara’s legs even wider for him.

“Yeah,” Kara said, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I trust you.”

It warmed Felix’s heart to hear those words, and he dipped his fingers back inside to stretch her out for his cock, listening to the harmonic melodies of her moans and whimpers. “Are you ready?” Felix asked, and Kara was nodding her head while crossing her legs over his lower back, hips floundering beneath his for the friction of his cock. “I got you,” Felix said, and he grabbed his cock at the base, leading it to where it belonged between her thighs as he sunk into her heat with one careful push. 

“Felix,” Kara whimpered. “It feels so good.”

The compliment went straight to his head, and Felix knew that it was best to work her over with gentle thrusts to start out, gradually working up to the pace he preferred where he could dip his cock into the neverending heat of of her arousal that was glistening beneath the faint moonlight bathing the bedroom. “Tell me if it hurts, love,” Felix said, and he didn’t even realize the pet name until Kara was demanding that he call her that again.

But there was no time to feel embarrassed because she was moaning his name and squeezing around his cock so well, and it was becoming harder to keep himself controlled. “Faster, Felix,” Kara cried, and Felix was more than happy to comply with her request, snapping his hips in a much more satisfactory rhythm that had his balls hanging even heaver between his legs as he chased the precipice of his release.

“Are you close?” Felix asked, pumping his hips like a madman in search of an epic high, but he was always mindful of Kara’s pleasure as he tried to angle his hips just right to brush against the best spots, stroking his thumb across her clitoris while his free hand shoved a finger or two into her mouth. Just to feel a different heat around the digits as he imagined his cock replacing them.

“Felix!” Kara shouted, and she was arching her back, opening her mouth around a silent scream as Felix plunged his cock even faster between her thighs, searching for his own release while helping Kara ride out the waves of pleasure. 

“I’m coming,” Felix growled, and he managed to pull out just before he exploded all over her stomach, painting the skin with streaks of white.

“Holy shit,” Kara said, and she barely even reacted when Felix briefly left the room to fetch a cloth to clean her off, crawling back into bed to pull Kara tightly into his arms as he inhaled the smell of her sweat and the undeniable reminder that this was Kara who was drifting off to sleep wrapped securely against his chest.

Felix was nervous when he arrived at the studio the next morning. 

It was strange because he had woken-up with Kara tucked against his side, feeling satiated from the previous evening. But then he remembered that Y/N was supposed to meet him at the studio, and he was instantly a bundle of nerves as he found himself at a conflicting crossroads: 1. He could lie and tell his step-sister that he and Kara were distant strangers, or 2. He should come clean about everything, including last night’s session of lovemaking that had miraculously not ended with Kara running in the opposite direction.

In any case, his stress must’ve shown because Minho immediately picked up on his tension when he greeted him at the back offices of the studio. “You look terrible,” Minho said in that blunt manner that wasn’t exactly endearing.

“Thanks,” Felix returned, gathering his supplies together as he slumped down at his desk, ready to check his email. “I had a long night.”

Minho grinned. “What? Did you go out?”

“Not exactly,” Felix said, and he wondered if this was a good segue into a conversation that would hopefully unburden that enormous sensation of guilt sitting at the center of his chest. “I’m dating Kara again,” Felix said, and he looked at Minho because he was sure that his friend would berate him.

But Minho simply shrugged in response. “Okay.”

“We had sex last night,” Felix continued like this was a purge session and he could just spill all of his vices to Minho.

“Dude,” Minho said, and then he chuckled. “You don’t need to justify yourself to me.”

“I mean, you were there last time when Changbin and Y/N made a huge deal out of us going out together,” Felix said.

“I was only there for the drama,” Minho said. “I couldn’t care less who you stick your dick inside.”

“Didn’t need that imagery,” Felix grumbled, but he was also relieved by Minho’s easygoing acceptance. “Seriously, though, I’m glad you didn’t flip your shit or something.”

“It’s not my concern,” Minho said. “You’re a big boy, Felix. I’m sure you know how to take care of yourself, and if Kara needs to be a part of your life, then I have no room to say anything.”

Felix sighed. “I wish Y/N and Changbin felt the same way.”

“Well, in their defense, I think everyone in our group associates you and Kara with bad news,” Minho pointed out. “In my opinion, you should do something to change their minds so they can see you guys in a better light. Maybe you can even prove to them that this time it’s more than just a fling.”

Felix nodded, turning over Minho’s advice inside his head. “We’ve never had sex before last night. I guess you didn’t know that.”

“It kinda surprises me,” Minho admitted. “But I don’t usually ask for the details when it concerns your personal life.”

That was certainly true, and it’s part of the reason why Felix had such a strong bond with Minho. They were also business partners, and an inherent part of that relationship relied on trust and mutual respect. “She’s actually really inexperienced,” Felix said. “I was surprised too.”

Minho laughed, easing himself back against his chair as he edged closer to Felix. “Why did you feel the need to tell me? I’m sure this has been going on for a while.”

Felix nodded, aware of Minho’s uncanny intuitiveness. “We kept it a secret from everyone else.”

“Did you plan on doing that forever?” Minho asked. “I guess the guilt finally forced you to spill everything to me.”

“Not really,” Felix said. “Y/N’s coming by the studio today, and she wants to talk about Kara.”

“Then tell her about Kara,” Minho said, shrugging in that nonchalant manner that was so distinctly Minho. “She’ll eventually get over it.”

“Or, she’ll sabotage us like last time,” Felix muttered.

“I wouldn’t call that a sabotage on Y/N’s part,” Minho said. “I’m pretty sure it was Kara who ran away.”

Felix cursed him under his breath. “I’m tired of walking on eggshells.”

But Felix understood that Minho’s observation was a fair argument, especially since Felix knew it was true, even if he continued to fight an incessant desire to deny the validity of the facts. 

It was all in the past, and Kara seemed determined to acknowledge those mistakes and learn from them this time. It might take a while to earn everyone’s trust and approval, but Felix was certain that Kara was his endgame, despite the countless hurdles that were always landing in their path. But Felix was exceptionally good at jumping over them at this point, and maybe he and Kara could have that cliché walk into sunset together which concluded every romantic novel on his bookshelves.

“Figure it out soon,” Minho whispered to him when they arrived outside of their first dance class, discovering Y/N waiting next to the door.

She didn’t seem to be in a good mood as she marched over to Felix, muttering a quiet greeting to Minho who proceeded ahead to start warm-ups. “There you are,” Y/N said. “I’ve had time to think about it, and you sounded awfully concerned on the phone last night.”

Felix sighed and fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I was exhausted,” he said. “What do you want me to sound like?”

“When we’re talking about Kara?” Y/N huffed, raising one eyebrow as she shifted her weight. “You know she’ll want to talk to you.”

“Yeah, but it’s my responsibility to handle that,” Felix said, and Y/N pursed her lips.

“She makes you do stupid things,” Y/N said. “Your common sense filter is always compromised when she walks into a room swinging her hips and giving you bedroom eyes!”

“I’m fairly certain that’s an exaggeration,” Felix said, examining Y/N closely. “Or, is it the pregnancy hormones?”

“For fuck’s sake, none of you refuse to acknowledge that my hormones aren’t the reason for everything I say!” Y/N snapped. “Maybe this is just a concerned sister helping you.”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” Felix said. “But, as per usual, you’re over here disrupting my life with another gross hyperbole of the truth.”

“Fine,” Y/N said. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt your precious dance classes.”

“Like it bothers you,” Felix snorted, but then he softened his tone. “I actually do want to talk, but maybe sometime later.”

“Tonight?” Y/N asked with a hopeful expression.

“Let’s have dinner,” Felix suggested, and Y/N slowly nodded her head, even as she continued to look at him with suspicion.

Kara was nervous, but there was simply no way that her heart was beating as fast as Felix’s. The couple stood outside of Y/N and Jisung’s apartment, sharing furtive glances and hesitating to reach out and knock. Finally, Felix got the bright idea to text Jisung and ensure that he was the one who would answer the door, even if his expression reflected his surprise when he saw Kara.

“Uh-” Jisung paused, looking back and forth between Felix and Kara with uncertainty. “Does Y/N know about this?”

“What do you think?” Felix asked, and he tried to step around Jisung, but he was shocked when the mild-tempered man blocked his path. 

“Felix,” Jisung said, “Y/N doesn’t need this stress when she’s pregnant.”

“Seriously?” Felix groaned. “She invited me over tonight, and I told her I wanted to talk about Kara.” He then brought an arm back to wrap around Kara’s shoulders to hustle her forward. “I even brought Kara with me.”

“That’s the problem,” Jisung said, and his tone was unusually terse. “Y/N will lose her mind if she sees Kara.”

“You got that right!” a stern voice interceded, and the two men jumped  in surprise when Y/N walked up next to them to glare at Kara. “What’s this all about?”

Felix swallowed down his nerves as he faced his step-sister. “Kara and I are dating again.”

“Again!” Y/N scoffed. “What the hell is wrong with you, Felix?”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Felix said, and he pulled a reluctant Kara into the foyer, closing the door with a heavy THUD!

“Is this your idea of having a civilized conversation?” Y/N asked, moving her hand between Felix and Kara. “How long has this been going on?”

“A few weeks,” Felix said, and Y/N rolled her eyes.

“I guess that’s a new record for you, Kara.”

Felix frowned when his girlfriend flinched at the heavy accusation. “Don’t talk to her like that,” Felix said. 

“Then how should I address the woman who continues to hurt my brother?” Y/N asked, and Felix was just about fed up with her questions.

“Let’s calm down, babe,” Jisung said, and he brought both hands to Y/N’s shoulders to massage the tension keeping them raised. “You worked hard on dinner tonight.”

“Whatever,” Y/N grumbled, and she gently pushed Jisung’s hands away to return to the kitchen while Felix and Kara stood together in disbelief as Felix fumed over his step-sister’s harsh words.

“We can sit down,” Jisung said, and he led them to the dining room where the table was set for three people. “I guess we’ll need one more mat,” Jisung muttered, and he rushed into the kitchen where Felix could overhear him and Y/N arguing.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” Kara said, but she hadn’t released Felix’s hand which he took as a good sign.

“They would’ve found out eventually,” he said, turning to look at Kara in mild panic. “Right? This is long-term for us?”

“Of course,” Kara reassured him, leaning up to give him a sweet kiss. “Felix, I know that we have both good and bad history together, but I really care about you.”

Felix’s heart melted at her kind words, but he didn’t have enough time to formulate a coherent response because Y/N and Jisung had both returned and his step-sister still looked furious. “Here you go,” Jisung said, and he politely offered Kara a spare placemat and a dinner fork.

“Thanks,” Kara whispered, and Jisung sat down at the head of the table with Y/N and Felix on either side of him, staring at one another from across the space dividing them.

“How’s work?” Jisung asked, sensing the tension and always playing the part of the peacekeeper.

“It’s good,” Felix replied, and he reached out to start spooning some of Y/N’s vegetables onto his plate. “The classes are full.”

“I’m glad to hear that, man,” Jisung said, and it was nothing short of genuine. “I know you guys were struggling a while back.”

“We’ve managed,” Felix said, and he desperately wanted this whole evening to progress with something far more reasonable. 

“What about you, Kara?” Jisung asked with a timid tone. “I know you just came back to the city.”

“Just some freelance stuff for the most part,” Kara replied. “But I’m trying to find something long-term.”

“Really?” Y/N finally spoke up, and she frowned at Kara. “Long-term?”

“Yeah,” Kara whispered. “I’m planning to stay.”

“Unlike those other times,” Y/N said. “When you abandoned Felix.”

“Y/N,” Jisung said, and his voice was surprisingly gentle as Y/N slammed her fork down against the table. “Sweetheart, it’s okay.”

“Okay?” Y/N screeched, and Felix shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“This isn’t something that’s going away,” Felix said, but he was disappointed with the frustrated look in Y/N’s eyes.

“I think I need time to process this,” Y/N said, and she left the table without another word.

Two weeks passed at a slow, agonizing pace, and Felix was at his wits-end because all of their friends had somehow discovered that he was engaged in a relationship with Kara, and the reactions had varied from Hyunjin’s loud and dramatic exclamations to Changbin’s worrisome silence.

It also didn’t help that Y/N hadn’t bothered calling him, and perhaps he should simply wait out her anger because it wasn’t worth it to argue when she clearly wasn’t ready to talk to him. But Felix figured that this would be the worst obstacle that he and Kara would endure, which is why he was shocked to come home one afternoon and find her sitting on the couch in tears.

“Hey!” Felix said, immediately rushing to her side, wrapping one arm around her heaving shoulders to pull her even closer. “What happened? Tell me why you’re crying.”

Kara shook her head, and maybe she wasn’t ready to open up about whatever it was plaguing her thoughts as she soaked the sleeve of his t-shirt while Felix sat next to her in a quiet show of encouragement. “I-I’m so scared,” she finally said, and Felix froze with all sorts of implications for what that could mean.

“Did somebody hurt you?” Felix asked, and there was a fierce desire to protect as he attempted to pull Kara’s hands away from her face.

The sight wasn’t anything to celebrate, and Kara’s make-up was smeared, lashes stuck together in clumps as she sniffled. “You’re gonna be so mad at me.”

Felix frowned. “Why would I be mad?” he asked.

“Because it wasn’t supposed to happen,” Kara said, and Felix was afraid that Kara was referring to their relationship, or maybe she was feeling apologetic for straining some of his friendships. 

“Everything will work out,” Felix said, trying to be soothing. “It’s nothing we can’t handle together.”

But Kara was still insistent, taking a few deep breaths before finding the courage to look into his eyes. “Felix,” Kara said. “I’m pregnant.”

The confession was followed by a tense duration of morose stillness while Felix felt the temperature drop inside his body until it felt like cold despair had latched onto every single inch of him. “There’s no way,” he eventually said, looking back at Kara with a frown. “We only had sex one time!”

“And?” Kara sighed, using the sleeve of her sweater to dab at her eyes. “It’s not like there’s a guarantee.

“But I made sure to pull out,” Felix continued, and he was more determined than ever to deny the reality of their situation. “Holy shit, this can’t be happening!”

“Well, I’m not lying,” Kara said, and she had taken on a defensive tone. “I thought you might freak out, but there was a part of me that was hoping you would understand.”

“Understand what!” Felix exclaimed, standing up so fast that he made himself dizzy from the motion. “What the fuck am I missing?”

“Felix, I know it’s not something that we planned-”

“Of course!” Felix shouted. “Nobody will take us seriously after this!”

“Take what seriously?” Kara frowned. “Our relationship?”

“Obviously,” Felix snapped. “How stupid are we gonna look to them, Kara? They think we’re making a mistake just being together, but the fact that you’re pregnant makes everything worse.”

“I thought you didn’t care about what they thought of us,” Kara said. “We’re doing things our way this time.”

“Yeah? But our way never included a baby,” Felix said, and he was storming to the kitchen to find his keys. “I wanted us to do things differently without leaving things unresolved.”

“Yeah? Well, it sure as hell seems like you’re the one running away this time!” Kara cried, but Felix was past the point of being rational, slamming the door closed behind him as he tried not to scream.

It didn’t surprise Felix when his instincts brought him to Chan’s penthouse apartment in the city, and he was grateful when his brother let him inside without a single question.

“I’m guessing something bad happened,” Chan remarked, pouring himself and Felix a glass of wine as he joined him on the couch in the living room.

“You could say that,” Felix agreed, taking his glass and downing the alcohol as fast as possible.

“Well, I can only assume it involves Kara,” Chan continued. “She’s the only thing everyone’s been talking about these days.”

“Not that it’s any of their business,” Felix griped.

Chan sighed. “What did you expect, Felix? You and Kara have a complicated history, and it’s only natural for there to be some doubts.”

“But it’s my life,” Felix said. “I can make those choices, even if the others think that I’m stupid or whatever.”

“Nobody thinks that,” Chan said. “We’re all here for you, Felix.”

“Then I’ll rely on you for support,” Felix insisted, and Chan chuckled.

“You’re just as stubborn as Y/N,” Chan remarked. “Maybe that’s why it’s so difficult for the two of you to walk in each other’s shoes.”

“She just likes drama,” Felix muttered.

“That’s not entirely true,” Chan said. “Sure, it may seem like she’s overstepping her boundaries, but she’s doing it out of love for you. Not because of a misguided anger or resentment.”

“I’ll never understand how she ended up with Han Jisung of all people,” Felix said. “He’s like the sweetest angel, and she can be downright evil sometimes.”

“You only say that when you disagree with her perspective,” Chan pointed out, and Felix hated that Chan had grown wiser in his age. 

“What the hell am I supposed to do?” Felix groaned. “Nobody trusts our relationship, but I screwed up earlier when she told me that she was pregnant.”

Chan choked around his mouthful of wine. “Kara’s pregnant?”

“Yeah,” Felix grimaced because he might’ve forgotten to mention that fact to his brother. “It wasn’t planned.”

“Yeah, I hope not,” Chan grumbled as he wiped away the wine glistening around his lips. “When did you find out?”

“Like right before I came over here,” Felix said, and then he whined when he realized that he had done the worst thing possible by leaving his girlfriend. “Shit, I just bolted on her.”

“And you want to talk about Y/N being misguided,” Chan scoffed. “Seriously, Felix? You and I were both taught to take responsibility, even when the circumstances are hard.”

“I know that,” Felix said, looking down at the floor. “I feel horrible, and everything is just spiraling out of control.”

“Because you’ve let it,” Chan said. “You need to call Kara and go back home. I mean, before you try to fix the mess you’ve made with our friends, you need to focus on her. She should be your priority.”

“Fuck, I can’t believe you’re still single,” Felix said, pulling his phone free from his jacket pocket while Chan’s doorbell rang in the background. “Were you expecting someone?”

“No,” Chan frowned. “Stay here so I can check.”

Felix shrugged at his brother’s request, hovering his finger over his girlfriend’s contact waiting on his phone screen. It should be simple to hit the green call button, but Felix felt like he was moments away from passing out. The decision was monumental, and had the potential to change everything.

Of course, he didn’t get a chance to make that choice when he heard an all-too familiar voice yelling from the next room: “Where the fuck is he?”

Felix flinched and stood up from the couch when Changbin walked into the room, practically radiating steam as he marched up to Felix. “You knocked up my baby sister!” Changbin growled, and Felix was swallowing down his fear as he held up his hands and tried to pacify his friend.

“Changbin, I can explain everything-”

But Felix never got that chance either, and he could only remember seeing stars when Changbin reared back to punch him with all the force that he could muster in that single moment.

Thankfully, it was only a mild concussion, but Felix was still forced to spend the night in the hospital.

“Your turn,” Jeongin said, nodding at the chessboard resting on Felix’s lap.

From the opposite side, Seungmin pondered over the battlefield. “Check Mate!” he shouted in joyful glee, and Felix chuckled when Jeongin started spluttering curses at Seungmin.

“Not my fault that I’m smarter,” Seungmin teased, and Jeongin sat back in his chair with a pout.

In the meantime, Chan had entered the room at some point, knocking on the open door as he approached Felix’s bedside. “How do you feel?”

“Like an enraged psychotic friend just knocked me the fuck out,” Felix said, wincing when he reached out for his drink.

“Changbin feels horrible,” Chan said, and Felix scoffed because he could hardly believe that. “He’s coming to see you tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Felix muttered. “Just make sure to keep some other guys in the room.”

“I’ll do my best,” Chan said, and he ruffled Jeongin’s hair as he sat down on the edge of Felix’s bed. “Y/N is waiting outside. Is it alright if I let her come in?”

Felix frowned, wondering if he had the capacity to deal with Y/N at that moment. “Okay,” he finally relented, and he glanced up when Chan called out her name.

Apparently, his step-sister had been standing outside the door, and she tried to look nonchalant as she walked into the room with Jisung following behind. “Hi,” she said, somewhat sheepishly as she looked down at Felix. “I’m sorry Changbin hit your pretty face.”

Felix snorted at the comment. “Maybe he was trying to knock some sense into me.”

Y/N was quiet, glancing back at Jisung who gave her an encouraging nod. “I also want to apologize for dinner the other night because some people,” she said, giving Jisung a meaningful look, “told me that I took things too far.”

Felix shrugged, fiddling with the chess pieces because he knew he had already forgiven Y/N. “I’m not leaving Kara.”

“I sure as hell hope not,” Y/N said. “Especially since she’s pregnant with your child.”

“You sure move fast,” Seungmin remarked, protesting when Chan lightly smacked him on the back of the head for the snide comment.

“I feel most sorry to her,” Felix admitted. “I shouldn’t have walked out when she told me.”

“No,” Y/N agreed, and she leaned back against Jisung who happily wrapped an arm around her waist. “But if she’s just as serious as you are this time, then she’ll forgive you.”

“Hopefully,” Felix said, and Y/N nodded as she glanced back at the door. 

“I saw her a few moments ago in the waiting room,” she said. “I think it might be a good idea for us to let you guys have a few moments alone to talk.”

Felix nodded his head slowly, but on the inside he was quivering with anxiety knowing that Kara was waiting for him. “Thank you, Y/N.”

His step-sister offered him a smile, squeezing Jisung’s hand as she corralled Seungmin and Jeongin together to retreat from the room, leaving Chan to give Felix a whispered “good luck” before he was following their path. And Felix could only stare at the open doorway, waiting patiently for Kara to walk inside. Because he was more than ready to fix things with her, especially if they were gonna do this thing long-term.

“Hi,” Kara said when she poked her head around the door, shuffling into the room with her arms holding together the front of her sweater. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” Felix said, and he held out his hand. “Will you come over here?”

Kara nodded, and Felix was relieved when he could hold her again, feeling her soft skin as he brushed his thumb across her knuckles. “I’m sorry Changbin hit you,” Kara said. “It’s my fault because I told him that I was pregnant over the phone and he flipped out.”

“That sounds like Changbin,” Felix said, chuckling at the mere image of Changbin running down the streets to confront him at his brother’s apartment.

“I hope you’ll try to forgive him,” Kara continued. “He feels really bad about hitting you, and I made sure to sit down and talk with him about us.”

“Us?” Felix repeated, looking up at her with hopeful eyes. “There’s still an us, even after everything I did?”

“I was surprised that you ran,” Kara admitted. “But I also knew that the circumstances weren’t exactly ideal, and you’ve been stressing over telling everyone about our relationship.”

“Doesn’t give me an excuse to walk out,” Felix muttered. “I don’t know what went through my head, but I feel really bad about that night.”

“Felix, I won’t lie and say that it’s fine, but I’m willing to move past it,” Kara said, and she sat down next to him on the bed. “It’s good that you recognize your faults, but what I really need from you is a commitment. Because we’re having a baby, and I know that’s a huge responsibility. And it’s not gonna go away overnight.”

Felix took a deep breath, deciding on an honest approach as he steeled his nerves. “I still don’t think I’m ready,” Felix admitted. “I don’t think anyone is ever ready for that, even if they plan for it or whatever. But I’m willing to try for you because I like the idea of us being together.”

Kara nodded, and Felix chuckled at the sight of her tears. “I’m sorry,” Kara apologized again, wiping them away with the back of her free hand. “I guess I’m already a mess.”

“Maybe Y/N can give you some tips,” he said. “We’ll all be spending a lot of time together.”

“Oh, your mother,” Kara groaned. “She’ll be pissed.”

“You underestimate her,” Felix said. “She really liked you, and I think she’ll be over the moon when she finds out that she’s getting two grandchildren.”

Kara laughed, and her smile was reflective of Felix’s own elation, urging him to kiss the back of her hand. “We’ll make this work,” Kara said, and her tone was nothing but determined.

“I know we will,” Felix agreed, and despite the indecisions and regrets that haunted his past, Felix had never felt more certain about his future.

[elisaphoenix13]

A Full Party

Thanks to a donation, this has been made available to read!

Athena and Tibbs greeted them like anyone else that was considered a friend, they barely even paid any attention when they stepped off the elevator. Athena briefly flicked an ear in their direction before returning her attention to the rare belly rub she let herself enjoy that Bucky was giving her, and Tibbs rubbed up against their legs before he dashed over to Peter when he shook the treat bag. But Flynn? His reaction was...interesting to say the least.

Everyone was relaxing and spending time with each other while Wanda and Cassie made dinner and snacks for their regular team bonding day (otherwise known as movie night), when the fox suddenly screeched. Quill was on his feet quicker than anyone could turn their heads, but when he saw who the kit was screaming at, he groaned and stomped over to pick him up by his scruff.

"Hey! Relax! Do you see Athena freaking out?" The god huffed and Flynn immediately fell quiet. Whether it was because he was safely in Quill's grasp or if he understood him was a mystery though. "They're friends!"

Shuri bent over cackling and T'Challa merely shook his head as Flynn squirmed in Quill's grasp to try and get to his shoulders. The celestial held him up and let the fox curl around his shoulders, and Flynn sniffed the fingers that Shuri offered after she was done laughing. She pet his head a few times before he playfully snapped at her and she took her hand back.

"I swear he's not racist." Quill said. "He doesn't do that shit with Sam or Rhodey."

"They're new to him. He hasn't seen them before." Stephen said as he approached them. "I'm glad you could find some time to get away." He said to T'Challa.

The king smiles. "We needed a break and we wanted to visit."

"You came at the perfect moment. We're having our monthly movie night. How long are you staying?" Stephen asked as Quill stepped away.

"A week if that's alright." T'Challa said.

"No can do kitty-cat." Tony says from the couch. "There's no room. You'll have to sleep in the dumpster outside."

Stephen rolls his eyes. "Don't listen to him. There's plenty of room. You can stay on Sam's floor."

"Thank you."

T'Challa and Shuri step out further into the floor to socialize, the king going over to Steve and Bucky, and Shuri of course joining the teens. She did eventually end up with Diana and Valerie a little while later and both girls were enraptured by stories of her brother's good deeds. It was nice to see the baby warm up to her so quickly since they rarely saw the royal pair. But it also rubbed Stephen the wrong way because that meant she was becoming less attached to him. At least in his mind she was. If he asked anyone else, Valerie was just as attached to him as she usually was. She was the baby that he could have every single day and wasn't expected to change back to normal within 24 hours or completely miss out on. He enjoyed when the boys and Cassie had been changed but they weren't actual babies. Valerie was, and she was growing up too fast. Sometimes it felt like he had been snapped again because it seemed like just yesterday that he brought her into the world.

He missed her tiny hands and feet, the way she curled against him, and even missed the times she would fall asleep on his shoulder and drool all over it. It was amazing how much he had changed. The old him before the accident would have scoffed at the idea of having kids. Now, he actually thought of the accident as a blessing in disguise. It humbled him. Gave him the opportunity to meet Tony, to have this huge family instead of being alone for possibly the rest of his life.

Stephen really did want another one. He could have ten and Tony would barely blink. He'd just look at however many kids Stephen brought home (whether adopted or magical) and put aside some money for college for every single one of them. He already did that for the twins. Everyone joked about Stephen bringing home the next kid, but sometimes he thinks they forgot who brought home the first two.

Peter and Harley were Tony's first. Stephen just swooped in and took over. Peter very easily cracked the ice around his heart, Harley stuck a chisel in it, and Diana dealt the finishing blow and smashed the ice to smithereens when he accidentally brought her into the world. Stephen's heart was now soft and mushy, and grew with each kid.

He was the fucking Grinch of kids.

"Honey, why do you look like you ate something sour?" Tony asked and Stephen looked at him.

"I…" he blushed. "No reason. Just thinking to myself."

There was another screech from Flynn and an irritated "why are you like this?!" from Quill and Stephen looked over to find Carol on the balcony. Considering she didn't use the elevator, she probably flew here and might have spooked the fox, so he didn't really blame Flynn this time. Tibbs happily trotted over to the woman and rubbed up against her leg before looking around her.

Carol laughed as she crouched down to scratch behind his ears, "sorry fuzzball. No Goose this time."

Tibbs actually sounded like he meowed in disappointment, but he enjoyed the scratches and followed her back inside.

Carol smirked as Stephen approached her. "Have any popcorn?"

"It's for movie night!" Cassie called from the kitchen and Carol raised an eyebrow. "Dinner's almost ready!"

"Guess I'll go get cozy." She said as she scooped up Tibbs in one of her arms and sauntered over to the couch.

Peter seemed to give up on the cat once Carol arrived, knowing Tibbs would spend as much time as possible with her since he rarely saw her. She was in the top three of the cat's favorite humans, Peter and Tony being the other two. Quill finally found himself on the couch again with Flynn contently curled up on his lap and both T'Challa and Carol looked at them.

"Even I know the fox is new," Carol said. "What was with the screaming?"

"Stephen thinks it's because you're new to him. I think it's just because he's a brat." Quill huffed. "The universe decided that I needed the neediest fucking animal alive."

"He can't be that bad." T'Challa said and Scott snorted from his spot on the ground where he was playing cards on the coffee table with Sam and Clint.

"He's that bad. He cries if Quill goes anywhere without him. Hey! I saw that!" Scott said to Clint who had tried to slip a card away for later.

Things got a little too busy for Valerie so she joined Stephen on the couch when he finally sat down. Athena did too once Bucky finished giving her obnoxious belly rubs, and dinner ended up having to be brought to the sorcerer and Valerie when it was ready. Thankfully, Vision was kind enough to do just that and they both thanked him. Tony managed to find his way next to Stephen with his own dinner, and when everyone was settled with a plate, a family friendly movie was started. If only for the sake of the younger children. Once they went to bed, the older kids would go watch another movie in one of their bedrooms, and the adults would drink.

Stephen really needed a night to let loose. It had been a while.

So when the younger kids went to bed and the older kids squirreled away into one of the bedrooms with endless snacks, Stephen didn't even bother replacing them like he usually did. Tonight was a freebie. He was going to drink and he would let his kids get sugar high and consume a concerning amount of other junk food. They knew the adults were going to be drinking, so they knew leaving the bedroom would be at their own risk. It was a good thing William knew how to make portals and teleport.

"Mom, I swear if that's a bottle of wine I see, I'm going to stage an intervention." Clint said with a groan.

Stephen raises a brow as he opens the bottle in the kitchen, then rejoins everyone. "This is mine. I don't know what you're all going to drink." He said with a smug smirk.

"Oh, wow. Who's being a bad influence on him?" Carol asked.

Everyone looked at Thor who looked back with a little offense.

"Why are you all looking at me?" The Asgardian asked.

"Thor had nothing to do with it." Stephen said after draining a fourth of the bottle. Tony had watched in amazement with a hint of concern. "I just need this. I parent...I don't even know anymore." He mumbled.

Sam cackled after he came from the bar with bottles of hard liquor and every single shot glass Tony owned. "I'll drink to that. We children are pretty wound up from missions."

Everyone else laughed and started off with a shot before deciding on a drinking game. Stephen took his time on the rest of his bottle of wine while everyone else decided on a game of Never Have I Ever. Steve, Bucky, Thor, Carol, and Quill drank Thor's Asgardian stuff to even the odds, but even then, everyone was pretty shit-faced pretty quickly. They all knew a concerning amount about each other's sex life or whatever else they were drinking to, except Scott and Quill's sex life wasn't a surprise. Shame wasn't in their vocabulary.

Stephen finally polished off his bottle and joined the game just as Laura said, "Never have I ever done it while a child was in the room."

Stephen and Tony each took a drink and everyone stared at them. The sorcerer simply chuckled and shrugged.

"Valerie was asleep."

Bucky was the one to burst into laughter. "Even I didn't think you'd go that far!"

"I take it where I can get it." Stephen said. "Whose turn is it?"

"T'Challa's." Scott hiccupped.

"Never have I ever been thrown out of a bar or club." The king said.

No one was surprised when Quill took a drink.

"It's not what you think!" He exclaims after swallowing the ale. "It was during a fire. One of my buddies actually threw me out the window...it was before they knew about my powers."

"He probably always wanted to do it." Sam laughed and Quill shrugged.

"Probably."

"Alright," Natasha said to get everybody's attention. "Never have I ever sent a sext to the wrong person."

Every single person took a drink. The ones with kids blushed bright red...and Quill even grabbed the bottle of ale while mumbling something like, "Cass and my work buddies probably need therapy."

Stephen coughed at the god's words and his eyes water from the burning in his nose. "Please don't tell me you sent your daughter an unsolicited dick pic."

Quill groaned. "I did. Thankfully we were both home so I was able to keep her from seeing it. I never got out of bed so fast."

"I should put filters on the kids phones." Tony mumbled. "Or add their personal AI's or Friday to them. Friday, make a note of that."

"Yes, Boss." The AI said.

The game went on for another couple of hours until everyone passed out where they had been sitting. It was weird seeing the king of Wakanda passed out on the couch from drinking, but Tony figured the weird level of that was very low on the list of what he'd seen. He hadn't drank nearly as much as his friends and decided to go out on the balcony and sit in a chair with a cigar. It was something he rarely indulged in, but it was the perfect time to do it. The kids were all asleep and the smoke wouldn't bother anyone, but halfway through it, Stephen had gracefully stumbled out onto the balcony and landed in his lap.

Tony chuckled. "Hi honey. Thought you were dead to the world."

"You left." Stephen mumbled. "Are you smoking?"

"A cigar. A rare treat." Tony admitted.

"Hmm...I like the smell on you." Stephen hummed pleasantly.

"When you're not in danger of puking, I'll make it up to you."

"That's too bad." Stephen whispered. "I thought maybe we could do it right here."

"Tempting...but we do have thirty something kids." Tony laughed.

"I want another one." Stephen slurred as he dozed off on Tony's shoulder and the mechanic rubs his shoulder with his free hand.

"I know. Soon." He promised to his sleeping spouse.

He liked having Stephen in his lap like this. Maybe next time his wife would be sober and they could enjoy the stars from next to the fire at the lake house. He would indulge in a cigar again, have the man cuddled up to him in his lap just like this...and they would look up at the stars. Better yet, it would even be relaxing for Tony. No triggers from looking up into the vast expanse of space, just pure enjoyment.

"We'll have as many as you want." He whispered before placing a soft kiss to Stephen's brow.

[dollsted]

Chains

Chapter one: The Sting

Source: A03 --- F0rce0fnatur3

NSFW Warning: 18+

Pairing: SasuSaku | SakuIta

Plot: Sakura was just going about her daily life when her world shatters after being taken by two men who were sent to do their jobs and help fill the bank account of the third party they work for. When the job gets botched due to Sakura's intrusion her fate suddenly becomes tied in the hands of the brothers. What do they do with an extra witness? And should they tell their employer about this slip up?

I drag my fingers through my silky pale rose colored hair, green eyes fixed on the cross walk sign waiting for the light to change and the slush of people I’m mobbed into moves. I can feel the slack in my tie holding my bun up threatening to come lose, so I crane my neck so that it is straight and proper without too much motion. A few shorter layers that frame my cheeks have come free already and a bad habit of mine is to twine my hair around my finger while strangers press uncomfortably behind me crowding the corner. I’m urged forward as we move like a swarm of fish across the road to the other side. I can feel someone who’s too inappropriately pressed behind me breathing hot breath on the naked nape of my neck. I can feel him jut against me when I try to gain distance like a pair of flats that is a size too big and the extra space slaps at my heels each step. Finally I surge forward yearning for freedom and to break free from the blobby monster and break through the congestion making my way toward Macy’s.

               Everyone steals these moments by emerging from their homes after being cooped up for the hopelessly long winter. Colors finally begin to paint against the sky above the skylines and warm rays of light dips its fingers through the spines of the buildings. Spring is in the air. We all mimic the flowers that are still hidden beneath the flat and muddy colors of the city, we angle our faces to the sun which has been hidden behind a veil of gray like a face behind a paper fan. We want to soak up as much vitamin C as we can and I feel the light burn against my exposed skin. Yesterday when I passed this way the store was still in muted colors reflecting the sludge outside but today it is bursting with pink. I stare in awe at the window display. Flamingo’s the size of the entire span of the window towers on each side of the entrance to the door all adorned and anatomy made up of pink roses! If these are fake, whoever fabricated the material made it look as realistic as possible. Hanging above their crowns are real flowers that dangle in tight tangles and it renews the stores vigor. I imagine the workers tirelessly staying through all hours of the night to prepare the store for spring.

              I brush the left strand behind my ear and begin my shameless hunting. It’s been awhile since I binged for myself and after yesterday’s messy blood and stitches night at the hospital I felt I needed to wipe the memory clean with something material. I thumb through the sales rack, I look at the new lines on the outer edges of the store, I even gravitate towards the jewelry. Black pearl earrings. Ino told me once that my complexion was fair, so soft pastels of pinks and whites would best accent me. But I found emeralds didn’t contrast against the hue of my eye color, and soft yellows also seemed to flatter me. What did she know? She was always wearing crop tops that cut off just under the lines that silhouetted her breasts and shorts that clung too tightly to her ass. I assess a bright red sweater that would free my shoulders from its grip and add it to my basket. I swipe my right stray strand behind my ear and inspect a rose gold ring that appeals to my depth of symmetry. The gold is like filigree that curves gracefully in sharp patterns and arches that eventually build up to its center which dawns a black pearl that gleams a soft shade of gray when it hits the light and bleeds to deep black like the depths of a sea. A smatter of diamonds adorn random patterns like stars. Five on the left side of the pearl, three on the right. This will match my earrings.

               With a single bag slung around my arm I wander to my usual spot which has become my favorite place to frequent for coffee. I sit at the high table crossing my legs over one another arresting the fabric of my skirt to keep it from coming loose. I pull out the book from my purse and jot down little notes. What no one tells you in medical school is that although yes you are saving lives there are more bad days that outweigh the good one does. It’s getting harder and harder to find the slips of those good moments and the more gore filled ones blot out that and remain in your head like scars. I’ve woken up numerous times in a sheen of sweat and nightmares of the faces I couldn’t save laid there on the table like a cold dead slab of meat as if they’re waiting for me to stitch up the pieces of their broken body. One of my coworkers suggested I start writing down the good. It’s a sparse entry but a little girl came in with a flesh eating virus after she went into lake water with a small open wound no more the size of my pinky’s tip. The bacteria entered that small entry point and within hours she got severely sick and in no more than eight hours later her leg began to blacken. We were able to extract the bacteria and eradicate any other threats. Had she been another hour later, she would have lost her entire leg up to her calf.

              The hospital is always filled with patients. Like the cars that pack together outside like flakes of snow, so too are the halls of the hospital. I work endlessly. I’m afraid to admit that I now lean heavily on the assistance of caffeine. Like the officers that are allowed leave after a bad case to get their sanity back together, so too have I put in for two weeks’ vacation. Tsunade insisted I take more but if I don’t do something I only drown in my own thoughts and vanish into naps. She suggested I actually go on a vacation and get out of the city but it felt so odd to picture myself somewhere tropical and warm. Like residents in hotter climates who never get snow for Christmas.

              Hinata shoots me a text. I extract the phone from my jacket pocket looking at the small rectangular screen and thumb away all the notifications clogging my feed until finally I get to the message board. She wants me to meet her at her apartment. She’s not too far from where I am, it isn’t a big enough strain to have to hail a cab. With four blocks I’m there buzzing at the front gate. I ride the elevator eleven floors up and walk halfway down the hall before knocking on her door. Quietly and quickly she opens it, her face is flushed, and she has tears rimming in her eyes like diamonds against her black lashes. Her pearl white eyes plead to mine and her brows are knit together. I’m startled. She’s truly upset. Usually she smiles and pretends there’s nothing wrong but after Ino and I finally staged an intervention to get her out of her abusive relationship she had been struggling. She motions me in. Her family has money but after Hinata left our small town and migrated here with Ino and I she had opted for a small apartment in a more down trodden part of the city.

               “Sakura, I’m so glad you’re here. Something terrible has happened.” I look at her, my own brow arched in confusion and she’s moved like a ghost effortlessly into the other room. I go to follow but she’s already floated back and produces a note tightly gripped in the confines of her shaking hand. I gently pull the letter from the feed of her palm and look over the document. The note is hand typed and not signed. The content of the letter sends a shiver through my body.

               “Someone sent you a threatening letter?”

              “D-do you th-think it could be h-him?” Her whole body convulses now and her hands find one another gripping until her knuckles are as pale as the color of her pearl eyes.

               “No. Your ex is a jackass but he’s a coward at heart and wouldn’t send something like this.” I take a seat suddenly feeling a dreadful weight in my body threatening to pull me down. “It seems to me the person whose contacting you wants a piece of your fortune.”

               “Should I tell father? Oh…he’ll be cross. He’ll want to send the police force and private investigators.” Her voice is a feather against the drumming in my ears. She hasn’t been able to look at me since she retrieved the letter. Gingerly I put my hand against her quaking shoulder offering warmth and softening my voice.

               “Hinata, I think you should let your father know about this. It could become serious…”

               “No one even knows I’m out here…who…who could…?”

              “It’s easy for a woman to be stalked. I hate to admit this to you too and scare you even more but if one wanted to type in your full name the internet isn’t shy about revealing articles about your fathers charity work and that you and your sister are heiresses.”

               I watched her shrink into herself. I looked back to the letter.

               “I don’t want my family to get hurt.”

               “All the more reason to warn them that you and them may be targeted.”

              I spent the rest of my visit cooing soft words of encouragement and making her several pots of herbal tea to calm her jittery nerves. When I suggested she speak to detective Naruto about all this she was all too eager to change the subject or dismiss it. I loved Hinata as the dear friend she was to me but, sometimes it was like speaking to a child who was afraid of her own shadow. Children could be difficult and stubborn and no matter what I pitched to her she shot down. Finally I had to threaten to tell my own sources about the letter and that seemed to sap any of her protests. She didn’t want me to get involved and made a promise that first thing in the morning before work she would go to the authorities with her proof and ask for help. It was enough to sate me. The letter gave her a two weeks’ notice to produce the money or transfer it to a secure private fund so I felt a little at ease that perhaps they wouldn’t come to collect her in exchange for that promise.

              I lay awake all night feeling guilty about Hinata. It became too hard to leave her alone and when I shot her a text to come back to my place for the time being she politely declined still feigning that she didn’t want me to get hurt in any of this exchange so I fled my apartment taking a cab as if precious moments were slipping from my fingers. Her building was alight and it helped douse a little of my fears but when I reached her front door it was then I noticed there was a splinter in the wood at the hinge. My heart was in my throat as my fingers lightly touched upon the wood of the door and it yawned open. Her apartment was dark and I could hear muffled talking. Maybe Hinata was retiring for the night and speaking to her father but then why would her door be affected by such a thing?

               I dared two steps into her room when the creak in the floor threatened to tattle on me if I moved further. I craned my neck trying to peer around the corner to the kitchen. The only light was the clock on her microwave and stove. I inched against the frame of the wall getting closer to the rush of voices. Now I heard the distinction of a male. I strained for a minute to hear Hinata’s reply but nothing came. A shadow moved across the wall in the living room. I went to strain my eyes to look into the stretch of darkness but felt a large hand press my locked lips against my teeth restraining my cries and screams of help. There was a wall of muscle at my back. My arms were pinned at my sides as the other arm snaked around me. My only free limbs were my legs which were easily lead in a dragging motion as the assailant directed us by holding my weight up and guiding us into the bedroom. My eyes widened. Hinata was slung over the shoulder of another male that seemed only a figment in the room. I could hear the venom in the elder male’s words as he hissed to the one man handling me.

                “Who the fuck is that?”

              “Don’t know. She was lurking at the door. What should we do?” I felt the pinprick of fear radiate up my spine and I began fighting. With little avail he easily coiled his arm flexing his muscles tighter against me. It was hard to take in air. I could see black blotting the corners of my vision.

               “She’s seen too much. Get rid of her.”

              “This might be the one she was texting.” I felt his hand move from my mouth and I took a sharp breath of air into my lungs but felt the scream vanish inside my throat when the clicking sound and cold round press of steel touched under my jaw. It came out as a startled gasp.

              “Don’t you even fucking dare.” My entire body began shaking. His voice was as deep and vicious as the steel under my chin. His arm uncoiled, he transferred the gun to his other hand and the free one plunged into my pockets. I let out a small yelp of surprise trying to shrink myself to get away from his invasive hands but moments later he plucked my phone from my back pocket. I glared blindly at him in the dark and shut my eyes when the shock of the bright screen flashed over my retinas. I blinked back burning tears watching him thumb through the phone then stopped.

               “That the one?” The other male ground out through tightly gritted teeth.

              “Yep.” Said my assailant with a careless sigh. He slipped the phone somewhere behind me in one of his pockets and then he resumed the hold he had before. The guns position changed to my temple.

              “Your call.” The casual exchange made me think these two criminals knew one another on a personal level. Maybe even related? I couldn’t think about that right now. Right now I needed to pine for my survival. I spent my years trying to save lives and to think of becoming just a stain within my legacy and a good front page article that would be looked over by tomorrow’s new stories made my stomach churn.

              “I know you two were the ones that sent the letter. I---I’ve already contacted the police about it.” There was a long stretch of silence that curdled the bile in my stomach even more painfully sour. The elder spoke.

               “We’re wasting time here. Bag her too. We’ll figure it out once we’re in the clear.” The one behind me didn’t respond. He only moved awkwardly behind me slipping one sleeve of a jacket to him and forcing the other sleeve to my arm. His free hand was hidden between the shared garment and the barrel was now tightly pressed at my back. I swallowed a wet gulp feeling the block roughly glide down my throat.

               “Here’s the deal. You scream. You say anything. I shoot you first. Then I shoot all the people you call out too. I don’t care if it’s a kid either. Got me?” I gave a curt nod. “Say it!”

               “Yes I understand!” I held the front of my sweater with my free hand trying to steady my nerves.

              Given the time of night there was no body that inhabited the entry ways or hallways. The elder had moved Hinata so it looked as though with her arm slung around the back of his neck and him holding her by her waist he looked like a gallant gentleman escorting his drunk girlfriend into a cab. But in the cabs stead was a black Lincoln. She was put in the trunk however…and I was forced to duck into the cabin of the back row of seats that faced one another. The elder took to the wheel. The black divider hid him completely and I was face to face with my captor who freed himself from the jacket. I was too terrified to shrug the rest of it off me. We were moving and I looked to the tinted windows walled around me. I felt small. I felt hopeless. My life was out of my hands. I knew in this moment how my patients felt…

              The younger captor was tall, not as tall as the other one but still larger than my short stature. He had long elegant legs that were cloaked in black jeans with faint tan stitching at the seams. He had heavy steel toed boots that somehow he controlled to keep his footfalls as silent as a cats. I saw the gray outlines in his shirt that made up the peaks and mountains of his midsection to his chest. His biceps were bulging from the clad shirts tight hold. The same arms that almost crushed me in two like a toothpick. He slung his forearm on the back of his seat showing the deadly muscle beneath his flesh. I looked away before his eyes could catch hold of mine. Charcoal black and bottomless like a shark’s. He had a long aristocratic nose and his lips were thin but were perfectly shaped so if he smirked they tips of them would be like little arrows that would point to his long cheekbones. His hair was a mop of thick locks and like babies he was cursed with terrible cowlicks that swirled and curved upwards but yet---it made him look distinguished and just fit to his angelic appearance. I crushed my thoughts digging bloody moons into my palms.

               Why had he put Hinata in the trunk? It wasn’t like he couldn’t overpower us if she awoke. Perhaps he didn’t want us speaking to each other. I felt my body temperature rise, the arm that was buried in the jacket suddenly burning setting wildfire throughout my other limbs. I shirked it off pulling my feet to the wide expanse of the seat tucking my knees to my chest. He was busying himself with my phone going through it and erasing the contents. I just wanted to sleep. My eyes burned with need but my body was wide awake. All my nerves were firing away with adrenaline. But as the hours went by and my mindless gaze watched the landscape scrape by in blurs I was fading. I hadn’t noticed when I stopped holding my head up and came to attention when my forehead was pressed against the cold glass. I jerked awake but couldn’t fight sleep any longer. Maybe I should just take a minuscule one---it might be my last chance for sleep. My thoughts grew heavier and became scrambled and finally I gave in to the darkness.

[stevishabitat]

“These are the perils of working from home,” mutters David Tennant, typing into his phone, filmed by his computer and watched, bemusedly, by me.

The 49-year-old actor has been texting, intermittently and apologetically, throughout our Zoom call. One of his five children (aged 18, nine, seven, four and eight months) has returned to school, and it seems pickup arrangements have been miscommunicated.

Tennant’s correspondent – I assume it is his wife, Georgia – is messaging from inside the house; Tennant is in the garden, his long lockdown locks pushed back into a Beckham-style headband. Over yonder, he gestures off-camera, a homeschooling lesson is under way: “I came outside to avoid the maths.”

Yet Tennant seems to have embraced the realities of home life, with two BBC projects drawing on his experience of raising a family. In the meta, of-the-moment series Staged, he and Georgia play versions of themselves in lockdown in their Chiswick home, while There She Goes (which returns for a second series tomorrow) captures an oft-unspoken truth about parenting, says Tennant: that “it’s sort of a slog”.

Coupled with doing interviews from his garden – Tennant tips his camera to show me Myrtle the cockapoo, flopped at his feet – it offers a surprising glimpse into the family life of an actor who has previously been reluctant to reveal any of it.

“We’re not quite as squeamish as we were,” he agrees, not least because his eldest son, Ty, is now also an actor. “I don’t think we’ll ever be sharing pictures of our children in Hello! magazine, but I think a lot of that comes from an insecurity about being uncovered or invaded. The longer you’re together, the less that feels like a threat.”

Tennant met Georgia (then Moffett) in 2008 on the set of Doctor Who – her father is a former Doctor, Pete Davison. “As our relationship was born out of people trying to stick lenses through windows, it’s taken us a long time to slough off that residual nervousness about sharing anything.”

These days, their guard is low enough for Georgia to post on Instagram a shot of herself breastfeeding – and to rail against Mark Zuckerberg when the image was removed by Facebook for breaching community standards (“I’ll come round there and squirt you in the eye”).

But, Tennant adds: “It’s still important to us that the characters in Staged are not us,” “David” being “more pathetic” than Tennant and “Georgia” more indulgent of him. “We’re not telling the actual story of our private life.”

There She Goes, however, he praises as scrupulously honest. The comedy stars Tennant and Jessica Hynes as parents of a child with a severe learning disability, based on the experience of the writers Shaun Pye and Sarah Crawford with their daughter, who was born with an extremely rare (and still undiagnosed) chromosomal disorder.

Tennant plays Simon, the character Pye based on himself: a loving but somewhat hapless father, always out to foist young Rosie on to his wife so he can head down the pub. Tennant says he tried to catch Pye out on set: “I’d go: ‘This bit we’re doing today – that didn’t really happen, did it?’ And everything is true.”

The first series was widely praised for refusing to sugarcoat the realities of parenting and marriage, while still finding moments of sweetness. Hynes won a Bafta for her turn as Emily, Rosie’s harried but devoted mum who, in a low moment, admits to struggling to love her newborn.

Simon, meanwhile, leans on booze and dark humour. There She Goes can be an undeniably uncomfortable watch. But the dual narratives of each episode – switching between a challenging but joyful time for the family and a more desperate early one – provide relief and perspective.

Tennant considers the series a mainstream comedy. Yet there had been trepidation within the BBC about how it would be received, he says, “because it lacked a certain sentimentality and political correctness – there was a real fear”. He disdainfully recalls a journalist at the press launch playing devil’s advocate, warning of a coming “shitstorm”: “He said: ‘You are going to be destroyed for putting this on television.’ We all hoped he was wrong – but we feared that he might be right.” And this was after the huge critical success of the police drama Broadchurch, which might easily have convinced Tennant he could do no wrong.

The casting of a non-disabled actor as nine-year-old Rosie – who is non-verbal, with the mental age of a toddler – was one sensitivity, says Tennant. The possibility of casting an actor with a learning disability had been explored, he says, “because, of course, that’s a live issue and one that has to be rightly unpicked”. But the demands of the role were found to be too great for a young actor with a disability. “Anyone who appreciates the kind of challenges that a child like Rosie would have doesn’t doubt that it would not really have been possible.”

Miley Locke, who is now 11, was “an incredible find”, says Tennant, praising her as nimble and uninhibited in a challenging role. Locke has met Jo, on whom Rosie is based, and has “an incredible capacity to find the truth of that character”, he says. “She’s also very game – I’m endlessly having to pick her up and fling her about and yank her around …”

Any parent will identify with “that constant sense that you’re falling short”, he says – now, perhaps, more than ever. A scene in which Emily tries desperately to work in the face of Rosie’s demands has taken on new relevance during lockdown. “Well, quite,” says Tennant, while texting in response to the latest news from Georgia. “Erm. Sorry …”

A big part of the challenge of shooting Staged was finding moments when the children were “either asleep or quiet”, but Tennant counts himself as “phenomenally fortunate” to have had the work, given how acting has been affected by the pandemic. This October, he was due to appear in CP Taylor’s play Good; that now seems unlikely.

Even when theatres are able to reopen, Tennant does not foresee audiences flocking back, “to sit there watching three hours of Chekhov as someone coughs all over them”. The impact on British culture could be catastrophic, he fears, even for institutions such as the National Theatre and the Royal Shakespeare Company. “It’s a huge bill just to keep those buildings running … We could be left with a cultural scene that’s vastly changed, and that’s a huge part of who we are as a nation.

“Even if the theatre is of no interest to you, even if it feels like an elitist playground, it’s places like that that all the other creative industries feed off,” he says, adding that the arts make a significant contribution to the UK economy – nearly £11bn in 2016, more than agriculture.

Tennant’s career first developed in theatre. As a teenager in Paisley, the son of a Presbyterian minister, he became one of the youngest students at the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama. Even as his work in television and film has taken off, Tennant continues to be a regular on stage, especially with the RSC.

It faces a “titanic problem” in the pandemic, he says, having furloughed 90% of its staff. Government intervention is needed to support theatres until they can reopen, he says, but he is sceptical of it materialising. “If one felt more inclined to trust this government, one might relax, but they haven’t exactly covered themselves in glory thus far.” In fact, since I spoke to Tennant, the government has promised the arts and heritage sectors a rescue package worth £1.57bn, which the playwright and funding advocate James Graham described as “surprisingly ambitious”.

A longtime Labour supporter, Tennant appeared in an election broadcast in 2015 before becoming disillusioned with Jeremy Corbyn’s leadership (to summarise various diplomatic responses to interviewers). Asked if he was a fan of Corbyn in 2017, he said he was a fan of the party – although its ambivalent position on Brexit (which Tennant has called a “shitshow”) was a sticking point.

Before last year’s general election, he said he was not even sure if he would vote for Labour. He did – to return Ruth Cadbury to her Brentford and Isleworth seat: “And, also, what was the actual alternative?”

He admits he found Labour’s defeat and the postmortem “disappointingly predictable”, although he still struggles to fathom how so many red seats turned blue. “How do you go from ever being a Labour supporter to supporting Boris Johnson?” he asks, dumbfounded.

He expresses some limited sympathy for politicians handed a pandemic when they thought they “were only going to have to talk about Brexit”. “But if you choose a cabinet purely to surround yourself with people who won’t disagree with you, you’re not necessarily getting the greatest brains in the country,” he says, although a caveat is quick in coming. “One might postulate, were that to be the case, and I’m not for a minute suggesting it is …”

Last year, Tennant singled out Michael Gove’s call for “enough of experts” as a “political lowpoint”. That attitude has had deadly consequences during the pandemic, I suggest. Now the government is “hiding behind them”, he agrees – “selectively, of course. If the experts then say: ‘We told them not to do that,’ suddenly they’re evil again.”

He shakes his head in despair. “Ugh! It’s a very sad state of affairs. Remember when there used to be clever people? When you look back on David Cameron and George W Bush with some kind of sentimentality, you think: ‘Jesus – how low have we plummeted, when they look like better options than what we’ve got currently?’”

Under Keir Starmer, Tennant says Labour “are looking a lot stronger”: “We’ve got a clever grownup in the room, which makes the other side look as ridiculous as they are. Let’s hope he can fulfil his early promise.”

Tennant has said he was inspired to act by watching Doctor Who at the age of three. When he was cast as the 10th incarnation of the Doctor, in 2005, he quipped that the first line of his obituary was written. Ten years since ceding the role to Matt Smith, Tennant remains as connected as ever to the programme, recording a new Doctor Who audio drama while in lockdown. “It’s a nice show to be associated with, because people feel kindly towards it,” he says. “You may not be a fan, but it sort of sits there in the cultural firmament. As a nation, I think we’re quite proud of it.”

Unlike many vehicles for British nostalgia, the malleability of the format has allowed Doctor Who to move with the times, he thinks. “It absolutely comes with all that nostalgic goodwill, but it also manages to live in the moment.

“It felt like a very different show in 2005 than it did in 1963, but it also has that link to the past – which is a positive, rather than preserving it in aspic in any way.” And the Doctor, defined by his (or her) kindness, a peaceful champion of the underdog, is “a wonderful character to aspire to. It’s about being the cleverest person in the room, not the strongest.”

Tennant, meanwhile, remains in his garden, the school pickup plan no more clear for all the messages sent back and forth over the threshold. “Probably would have been quicker just to go and have a conversation,” he says, cheerily. “But less fun for you, obviously.”

[propertyofnikkisthighs]

Sure Feels Right Ch. 8

Taglist: @hllywdwhre, @xxkellsvixen19xx, @desdestiny, @lain-ee, @crystalbaby12, @lovemythsworld, @hxllywood-whxre

Warnings: Angst, Drug use

2019

“No Colson I’m not firing my assistant because Rook expressed his feelings before you did” Ash crossed her arms over her chest. She was pissed to have been woken up at 1 a.m. in the first place and her annoyance was growing with every word that came out of Colson’s mouth.

“Fuck them both” Colson ranted pacing her hotel room. “Rook’s replaceable just like she is”

“Oh shut the fuck up Colson.” Ash rolled her eyes “You’re drunk and angry, but you don’t mean that.”

“Yes I do. They’re all replaceable, I don’t need anybody but my damn self.” Colson was seething with anger. Ash could practically see him steaming.

“So I’m fucking replaceable too? Slim’s replaceable? Do you hear how stupid you sound?” She was raising her voice at him and sober Colson would have known better than to push it, but this was drunk and angry Colson and he was dumb.

“You start fucking my band members then you are fucking replaceable. She was just getting close to me to fuck me over just like everybody else does. That’s why I can’t trust anybody.”

“She wasn’t fucking using you!” Ash yelled. “She got a fucking tattoo with YOUR symbols about YOUR band for YOU!”

“She fucking chose Rook!” Colson screamed back at her. They were both red faced and staring each other down. Colson sat on the edge of one of the beds and put his face in his hands.

“She kissed a guy, you’ve never minded it before. She fucked Doug and you were cool with that. You fuck other girls all the time, why is it now such a big deal?” Ash sat next to him and rubbed his arm. She had a point and he knew it, but expressing why he was so hurt wasn’t easy.

“What if she stops wanting anything to do with me now that she has Rook?” It came out much more quiet than he intended. He hated feeling vulnerable, but luckily Ash was someone he could be that way around. Well Lux had been too.

“Colson, she has HAD Rook. She has had the both of you this whole time, she loves you both, and you both love her. Stop being insecure and stop being an asshole.” Ash lightly pushed him up and into his room shutting the door between them and locking it.

He didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts tonight. He couldn’t be when that meant facing the consequences of his actions and replaying the hurt on Lux’s face. Sure he could text any of the girls that were at the party to come distract him, he could smoke until his brain was hazy, he could drink until he couldn’t see straight anymore, or he could use what was in the tiny ziplock bag in his pocket to help drown out the thoughts. He sat on his bed and pulled the small bag out examining it. The white powdery contents screaming at him to use. The urge to self destruct stronger than any other urge he has felt recently. He closed his eyes, was it worth it? He heard the sound of the room next door opening and shutting signifying Lux must be back at their hotel room. He tore his eyes away from the shared door between the rooms and focused back on the baggie in his hand. This wouldn’t chose his drummer over him. He poured some of the powder on the small side table and grabbed a hotel key to create a small line.

Ash had told Lux she didn’t have to go back home as she was Ash’s assistant and not his, but Lux was sort of regretting her decision to stay. She avoided all the boys as much as possible, especially Colson. She would only speak to him if needed to in order to relay a message that was business related and she would leave a room if he entered and she wasn’t required to be in there. When the boys set up for shows she didn’t stay backstage to keep company with conversation anymore. She would no longer stand side stage before and after the shows to watch them, to feel the kick drum in her chest, instead she hung around the merch tables or went back to the bus. It seemed all she did now was sleep and if she wasn’t sleeping she was crying and isolating herself. She kept herself holed up in her bunk letting silent tears fall from her eyes onto the pillow beneath her. Rook tried to check on her, but she just pushed him away for the sake of his relationship with Colson.

She heard a loud noise and jumped seeing that Ash had slammed a plate with a bagel on it down in front of her.

“Eat. Now.” Ash demanded.

“Oh no I’m okay, I’m not hungry.” Lux gave a tight lipped smile hoping it was convincing enough.

“I haven’t seen you eat anything in like two days” Ash kneeled in front of Lux and took her hands into her own. “Please you need food.”

“I eat” Lux avoided eye contact. “It’s just usually while you’re at the venues to avoid running into anyone”

“Bullshit” Ash replied sadly. “You’re just as bad as Colson with this self destructive bullshit.”

Lux winced at the mention of his name. She wished she could ask how he was doing, he looked rough honestly, but he wanted her out of his life so she abided by his wishes. She missed him so much it hurt and every time she caught a glance at her tattoo it was as if she was being stabbed a thousand times.

“I’ll eat it see.” Lux took a bite of the bagel and chewed slowly to fight off the wave of nausea that now overcame her every time she tried to eat. She swallowed harshly and smiled at Ash again hoping that the smile would appease her. Seemingly convinced Ash walked back to the back of the bus where the boys were playing video games. Lux waited until she was sure Ash wouldn’t walk out and ran to the trash can to dump the rest of the bagel in there. She quietly made her way to her bunk where she figured she wouldn’t be bothered. She placed her headphones in her ears and laid down waiting for sleep to overcome her. The tour would be over in a week so she just had to make it till then. Seven days and she would be home free, and able to look for a new job. That last thought had the tears cascading down her cheeks.

Colson could hear Ash telling Lux she needed to eat from his position in the bathroom and he frowned. He shouldn’t care that she wasn’t eating since she clearly no longer cared for him. She was avoiding him, she would leave rooms he was in, and she wouldn’t even look him in the eyes anymore. To make matters worse when she was forced to speak to him she had reverted back to calling him “Kells” like when she first got hired. He looked at the substance on the sink in front of him, he guessed he wasn’t fairing much better than she was doing. He had it under control though, he wasn’t binging at all and he would stop when the tour was over since he could relax then. He leaned down and quickly snorted up the line from the sink. He heard the faint sound of the trash can lid and Lux’s retreating footsteps. He slowly opened the door and tiptoed to the trash can to see the full bagel with just a bite missing from it in the trash can. Fuck.

“What are we gonna do?” Ash asked after locking the door to the back area where the boys, minus Colson, sat.

“I don’t know dude. Lux isn’t eating and Colson is using again and thinking he’s slick about it.” Rook sighed.

“They are such idiots. They need to talk and clear the air.” Ash gestured with her hands wildly.

“Can’t we just do a two for one intervention?” Slim tried joking.

“No they’re both stubborn assholes” Ash chuckled humorlessly. “They need to be forced into reconciling, but think it was their own idea.”

“I think I may have an idea, but it’s really dumb and cliche” Rook said nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well I got nothing so shoot” Ash groaned.

“We need to get them locked in a room together, somewhere they would least expect to be locked in together. Like a sound booth or something.” He replied nervously.

“Okay I actually like this idea” Slim laughed and Ash nodded.

“We get them in there together, rig the door, and don’t let them out till they sort out their shit. Or until the show needs to start.” Rook smiled triumphantly.

“Hey Colson this cute girl in the sound booth just keeps going on and on about how she’s a fan and would love to meet you.” Slim clapped Colson on the shoulder passing him.

“Really? Well shit let me go say hi” Colson waggled his brows and headed to the sound booth. He walked in shutting the door behind him and saw a head of long dark hair in one of the swivel chairs. Throwing on his best flirty voice he leaned against the door.

“Hey I heard you were a fan” The chair suddenly turned around and he caught sight of who was really in there. Fuck, Lux. Abort mission.

“Uh sorry Ash told me to meet her in here to go over some things for the show.” Lux shuffled nervously.

“Yeah uh slim said...uh nevermind” Colson went to open the door and found it wouldn’t budge.

“Let me try?” Lux asked nervously before trying to pry the door open as well, but again it wouldn’t budge.

“Fucking great! I’ll text Ash” Colson groaned pulling his phone out and flopping on the couch.

“Already on it.” Lux sighed tapping on her phone. An uneasy silence fell between them as neither wanted to really acknowledge the elephant in the room.

Colson was on a come down and was feeling extra antsy. He bounced his leg as he waited for someone to come free them from this makeshift prison. Lux sat back in the rolling chair and held her head in her hands.

“Um are you good dude?” Colson asked concern dripping from his voice.

“Yeah, just a bit faint.” Lux replied not lifting her head.

“Yeah, well, that happens when you don’t fucking eat.” Colson scoffed.

“We’re gonna do this right now?” Lux finally lifted her head to fix him with an angry glare.

“All I’m saying is maybe if you ate more than a bite off a bagel then you wouldn’t ‘feel faint’ right now” He threw his hands up defensively.

“Yeah well maybe if you weren’t doing coke again you would be less of an asshole!” Lux snapped. Colson froze and stared at her with wide shocked eyes. “I’m not a fucking idiot I know when you’re using again”

“And here I was thinking you were too busy with Rook to notice anything about me” Colson rolled his eyes.

“Oh fuck you Colson!” Lux yelled suddenly standing up.

“Fuck me? You were the one with your tongue down my drummer’s throat after weeks of us-”

“Of us what? Cuddling? Being ourselves? We’ve always done that. You making out with a girl at that very party you fucking hypocrit” Lux continued ranting irate.

“I know that Lux! I just saw you and Rook and I freaked out okay!” Colson began yelling back.

“Why the fuck would you freak out?” Lux could feel her face heating in anger.

“Because I love you dammit! I love you and I don’t want our relationship to change and we can’t be us if you’re dating Rook” Colson yelled exasperrated.

“You love me?” Lux asked voice suddenly at a normal volume.

“Didn’t I just fucking say I was?” She walked up to where he sat.

“You love me.” She stated and he looked up at her making direct eye contact for the first time since that night.

“Yes I love you-” Lux cut him off crashing her lips to his and cupping his face in her hands. The kiss was quick, but it lit a fire in both of their bodies.

“I love you too you big dummy” Lux laughed.

“You love me?” Colson searched for any hesitation in her eyes.

“I’ve loved you for a long time Colson Baker” Lux said stroking his cheek with her thumb. Colson leaned up and pressed their lips together again loving the feeling he got from the small action. He had a realization and pulled away.

“But you love Rook too don’t you?” He stroked her cheek with his own thumb. Lux nodded sadly and braced herself for another freak out.

“I don’t like my life without you in it.” He let a shaky breath out. “So I’m willing to try to figure this all out”

“Thank you” Lux leaned her face into his hand and Colson pulled her back down to kiss her again. Lux sighed into his mouth and he pulled her down more trying to deepen the kiss when the door flung open.

“Oh good I see you two made up” Ash said smirking at the two of them now red in the face with embarrassment.

[acedesigns]

Precious [Good Omens: Aziraphale X Reader]

Word Count: 4225

Warnings: Alcohol mention, sexual harassment mention, minimal editing, politics, death mention

A/N: Woot, this is my 100th fanfic post for Good Omens. This was heavily inspired by my time running for political office.

--

Politics had always made him a bit squeamish. He has seen time and time again the death that it can cause. If two leaders didn’t get along, then citizens would be killed. It was no wonder politics was basically a nest squirming with demons. That was why, despite his dislike for it, Aziraphale found himself wandering around a political event, keeping an eye on demons that weren’t in his arrangement.

Everyone was gathering in the auditorium. They each had a voter card with their precinct number, voting district, and name. The political party they were in didn’t matter, they were all in the same party, after all. And while he didn’t necessarily agree with everything this party did, they were certainly better than the conservatives.

The session was already fully underway. Now, the party was trying to make sure every position had someone running. A list was projected onto the screen for what positions were still vacant and its basic description. There was a section for city council. He looked around at the crowd, wondering if anyone would volunteer when the time came. One by one, the leader of the group went down the list. Then, almost immediately after she said city council, a voice shouted, “I’ll do it!”

He looked over and saw you stand up in the auditorium. You held your head high and shoulder back as you made your way down the steps and towards the stage. He was shocked to see such a young individual volunteer to run for office.

When you made it to the stage, you exchanged words with the leader, giving her your name. She then spoke into the microphone and handed it off to you for an improvisational speech.

“Hello, my name is [Y/N], and I am running for city council,” you spoke with such confidence that it appeared you were already a well-seasoned politician. “I am honored to have this privilege in connecting with you today. It is my goal to also make sure that we connect our amazing city to the ample amount of options available to us. We can connect our power grid to clean, renewable resources. No longer will we have to rely on dirty, Earth-killing factories. We can connect all of our citizens to high-speed networks. Our citizens will be able to call for help, work on school projects, and search for jobs with this network. We can connect our most vulnerable communities to the resources they need to survive. As a queer individual, I know the struggles we go through in feeling accepted.”

You paused as the audience erupted in cheers at you mentioning you being queer. Aziraphale found himself smiling at the warm reception you were receiving. He began clapping along with the rest of the crowd. Once it quieted down, you continued, “But I cannot do this alone. Together, we must connect with our community, gather support, and get out to the polls later this year! My name is [Y/N] and I am running for city council.”

You bowed slightly and waved as the crowd grew louder. It was the loudest they’ve been thus far. Aziraphale watched as you made your way off stage and sat back in the chair you originally came from. He tried to sense if there was any demonic intervention going on, given with the near-perfect speech you gave, but there was nothing. Throughout the rest of the event, he kept an eye on you just to be sure.

He stood up once everyone was dismissed and made his way over to you. He was curious as to what would drive you to run for office, especially at the age where individuals weren’t too keen on politics.

You were speaking with some other individuals. Given your more reserved body posture, he could tell you didn’t know the people. They shook your hand and took a selfie with you before thanking you and leaving. You sighed slightly and wiped your brow with the back of your hand. It was only then, he noticed you looked a sickly pale.

“Are you alright?” he asked as he approached you.

You looked at him and nodded but stumbled while standing so slightly. “I-I uh, I am going to the hospital after I’m done here.”

“Goodness!” Aziraphale eyes widened in alarm. “Do you need someone to take you there?”

You held a hand up to your mouth and turned away from him. For a moment, he thought you were going to be sick. For a moment, you thought you were going to be, too. Then, you turned back to him, after having seemingly swallowed down the vomit before nodding your head sheepishly. “Yes, probably.”

“Just one moment! Let me call my friend and he can take us,” Aziraphale hesitated before he miracled a cellphone in his pocket and dialed Crowley’s friend. He spoke quickly in the phone before he hung up. “He’ll be here soon. Do you want to sit down?”

You nodded and staggered over to a nearby seat. “Thanks,” you grumbled and sat up straight when you noticed other people looking. “Sorry, I should be more professional.”

“Professional?” Aziraphale chuckled as he made sure you were comfortable. “If you’re going to the hospital, I’d say I’m amazed you’re still concerned over what others are thinking. May I ask what’s wrong?”

“Food poisoning,” you grunted and wiped your brow once more, the nausea was making you feel hot. “I’ve had it for a couple of weeks, now.”

“And you came here?” Aziraphale was stunned at how you held yourself on stage while being so sick.

“I had to,” you mumbled.

“And why’s that?”

You looked up at him and sighed. “This city is so broken. None of the other politicians are doing anything about it. They’re all just being bought. I was so angry when I figured I’d fix it myself if no one else would.”

“That’s very admirable and brave.”

You chuckled lightly. “Brave is just another word for stupid.”

“Hopeful, but not stupid,” he said when he felt his phone vibrate. “He’s here. Let’s get you to the doctor, shall we?”

--

“Are you sure your people haven’t tempted them with anything, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked while he was getting ready to attend one of your political events.

“Positive,” Crowley hummed while lounging on Aziraphale’s couch. “The only ones that would have would have been Hastur or Ligur, and they haven’t been here for a while. ‘Course, that’s not to say that they won’t try something.”

“Yes, then I shall keep an eye on them!” Aziraphale straightened his bow-tie and glanced in the mirror.

Crowley smirked as the angel was fretting over his appearance. “To make sure they don’t get tempted or for your own personal reasons?”

“Personal reasons?” Aziraphale turned to the demon with a stunned expression. “What sort of personal reasons would I have?”

“I’d say you fancy them,” Crowley said smugly. “I’d say you have a crush on them!”

Aziraphale cheeks were tinted red. “I do not have a crush on them!” He turned back towards the mirror and fixed his hair before applying some cologne. “I simply enjoy their company, is all.” Crowley snorted. “And that is all! Now, if you’ll excuse me. I must get going.”

Crowley followed Aziraphale out of the bookshop. As Aziraphale was locking up, Crowley started to walk away and yelled, “Enjoy your date!”

--

You were at the event, and you were already dreading being there. You glanced around nervously while trying to keep a polite smile on your face. Someone that had been harassing you was going to be there. You honestly hoped he wouldn’t show up, but you knew he would.

“[Y/N], my dear! How are you?” You jumped and turned before relaxing at who it was.

“I’m doing well, Aziraphale. How are you?” you asked with a smile that was no longer forced.

“Tip-top!” Aziraphale grinned. “Are you ready for tonight? You always ace your speeches!”

You laughed lightly. “I wouldn’t say that, but thank you.”

“There they are!” a voice called from behind you. You stiffened and swallowed down some fear. Aziraphale frowned at the sudden change in your mood. “[Y/N]! It’s me!”

You slowly turned and the corners of your mouth twitched as you tried to force yourself to smile. “Hello, Richard.”

“It’s so nice to see you,” he said while looking you up and down. He stepped forward and opened his arms out wide.

Aziraphale stepped forward. “I’m afraid [Y/N] has actually injured themselves, so hugging is painful for them right now.”

You glanced at Aziraphale before smoothly nodding and following along with his lie. “Yes, I pulled a muscle. Sorry.”

Richard frowned while trying to decide if he wanted to force you to hug him anyway. “Alright. Why don’t we get a drink before this thing starts? There’s some beer.”

“No thank you,” you said with a tone that said you were trying to be polite, but he could die for all you cared. You turned away from the man that was making you skin crawl and towards Aziraphale. “How is your bookshop doing?”

"I only read comic books,” the man said and tried to force himself between you and Aziraphale.

Aziraphale gave him an incredulous look before looking back at you. “Doing quite well! I procured the most fascinating book a few days ago. I’ll have to show you the next time you stop by!”

“We should go together, [Y/N],” the man butted in once more. “It’ll be a date.”

Aziraphale glanced down to your left hand that was clenching into a fist. Your knuckles were turning white. Your nostrils flared as you tried to take in some deep breaths to calm yourself. With a tight smile, you looked at Richard. “I’m too busy.”

Richard shrugged, “Find some time, then.”

“Excuse me, sir,” Aziraphale finally had it. “But I’m afraid that they declined already and are simply too polite to straight up tell you to beat it. However, with them running for political office, they cannot afford to be what could be considered rude. Though, with your behavior, I would hardly consider it rude if they did tell you to bugger off.”

Richard turned towards you with a scowl. “Are you going to let him talk to me like that, [Y/N]?”

“No, he’s right,” you snapped and glared over at Richard. “Take the hint.”

Richard’s scowl darkened. “Why won’t you go out with me? It’s just one date. We’ll just go to the bar.”

“Why? So you can try to get me drunk and take advantage of me? No. I said no. Accept it. I don’t owe you anything. You’re not even in my voting district.” You grabbed Aziraphale by the arm and dragged him away from a stewing Richard. “I’m sorry about that, Aziraphale.”

"Don’t be,” Aziraphale puffed and straightened his jacket. “If we weren’t at a political event, I would have said some stronger things! Perhaps even cursed!”

Laughter bubbled out of you and tears welled up in your eyes at the idea of the cheery man actually cursing someone out. You leaned against Aziraphale to keep yourself propped upright. Aziraphale chuckled with a soft smile. Then, he paused. His cheeks warmed. In his mind, he did actually curse. Crowley was right.

--

The bell to the bookshop rang. Aziraphale glanced up from a book he was reading and automatically felt his heart quicken. He watched as you softly closed the door behind you and turned towards him. You gave him a small smile.

“Mind if I hang out here for a bit?” you asked. “I need a break.”

“Of course not!” Aziraphale closed his book and put it back where he found it. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Please.”

Aziraphale nodded and motioned for you to follow him. He put the kettle on and prepared the tea just the way you liked it. “What is it that you need a break from, [Y/N]?”

You sat down on the couch and rolled your head back so you were staring at the ceiling. “My opponent attacked me on social media. She said I was too childish because I still live with my parents. I can’t afford to move out and my dad has that heart issue, so I don’t know how much longer he’ll be around for.”

Aziraphale frowned and nodded. “That’s completely understandable. And one living with one’s parents does not say anything about their maturity level.”

“Yeah,” you hummed. With a sigh, you continued, “I was ready for her to attack me. I have more campaign contributions than her and am garnering more support than her. But there was just…like…This little voice in my head tempting me to attack her back and say these awful things. I had to just take a break and clear my head, you know?”

Aziraphale froze. He glanced over at you with a thoughtful look. Then, the phone started ringing. “Excuse me,” Aziraphale apologized and picked up the receiver already having an idea of who was calling. “Hello?”

“Aziraphale, it’s me,” Crowley’s voice sounded on the other line.

“Crowley.”

“They’ve targeted them,” Crowley warned. “Hastur tried to tempt them earlier. It didn’t work, but he might try again.”

“Yes, I’m already well aware of that,” Aziraphale mumbled and turned to face you while you started to play with a loose string on your cardigan. “Is there a way to stop it from happening?”

“You know as much as me, angel. Just try to balance it out with miracles.”

“Right. Thank you, Crowley.” He hung up the phone just in time for the kettle to start whistling. He quickly made his way over towards it and began to pour the hot water out into two mugs.

“How’s Crowley?”

“Hmm? Oh, fine, fine. He was just telling me about something that happened to him. Nothing, really.” He made his way over with a mug of tea. “Here you are, my dear.” He sat down next to you, opting to not sit in his chair as usual. “You know, I was thinking. Perhaps you could put a positive spin on how your opponent attacked you. Maybe say why it’s a good thing you’re a young candidate. It’s not a bad thing. You have fresh ideas that no one has ever had! You understand how the future the world is heading in better than anyone.”

You took a sip of the tea, it somehow being the perfect temperature after just boiling. For a moment or two, you simply pondered over what Aziraphale had said. Then, you dug out your phone and started typing away. “That’s a good idea. Thank you.”

Aziraphale smiled with a certain gleam in his eyes before taking a drink of his own beverage.

--

There was a death in your family and you were absolutely torn up about it. You had spent the entire night crying. When you woke up that morning, you told yourself you weren’t allowed to cry. You had a political event to attend. If your opponent caught wind that you were a wreck, she’d only attack you for it.

With a slow exhale, you got out of your car and walked towards the building you’d be giving the same old speech in. Aziraphale was already there. He looked at you with a sad smile.

“How are you doing?” he asked and greeted you with a warm hug.

“I want to cry,” you croaked and clung onto him. He was the only thing keeping you grounded at that moment.

“It’s alright to cry, my dear.”

“Not when there are people here,” you reminded yourself more than him and pulled away. “I can’t cry right now.”

He watched you and nodded. “If that’s what you want.”

“It’s what I have to do.”

“Alright. How about after this we go back to my shop so you can decompress?”

You looked down at your feet and nodded. “I’d like that.”

Aziraphale watched as you interacted with people. He stayed close in case you needed him for comfort or to get you out of a conversation. Though, you didn’t. You remained strong. Sure, your responses might have been shorter, but you managed to smile politely.

Finally, the even was over. You made your way towards Aziraphale. He offered his arm out towards you which you gladly took. He led both of you towards the bookshop. It was a silent walk; you didn’t really have that much to say. Aziraphale allowed you the time to get more acquainted with his thoughts. Though, the moment you made it in the bookshop and he locked the door, you collapsed onto the ground.

Aziraphale hurried towards you and wrapped you up in his arms. Tears poured out. You bawled and clung onto him for dear life. “I want her back,” you wailed. “I want her back!”

“I know, I know,” Aziraphale hushed and rocked you back and forth.

"I just want to wake up. This can’t be real.”

You ended up crying yourself to sleep in his arms.

--

There was about one month of the election season left. Since the first couple of months of the campaign, you had gone from being extremely sick from food poisoning, being sexually harassed by random guys (that was still going on), losing a loved one, being sick just about every week to sitting in Aziraphale’s bookshop. You sat with your feet tucked underneath you on the couch. A hot mug of tea was in your hands. There was also a blanket around your shoulders that Aziraphale had placed there. Aziraphale was busy helping a customer.

Though, there was something nagging at you. You couldn’t help but think that so many of the people you had become acquainted with, perhaps even friends with, were just using you. It was eating away at you. You felt that after the election they’d all just leave you. With a sigh, you put your mug down on a coaster on the end table and stood from the couch.

Aziraphale had just finished convincing a customer to leave without a book. He pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance at almost losing something so valuable to him. Then, he felt a sudden weight hit his side. He glanced down and smiled slightly seeing you had just headbutted him.

“What was that for?” he asked and still watched you as your head didn’t move away from him. You grumbled to yourself. “Sorry?”

You pushed yourself off of him and looked up at him with a slightly guilty and embarrassed look. “I show affection through headbutts.”

Aziraphale chuckled with a light blush. “So I am worthy of your affection?”

“Yeah,” you admitted. “It’s a very high honor, you know?”

“It certainly is.”

“I…” you started and paused as you tried to gather your words. “I’ve been having some thoughts.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale’s eyebrows bunched together in concern. “What kind of thoughts?”

“Are you going to not want to talk to me after the election?” you asked quietly and bit your lip. You refused to make eye contact with him.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. He held his mouth open in shock. “No, of course not! Did I do something to make you think I would?”

You shook your head. “No. I just…I can’t help thinking that people won’t want anything to do with me when this is all over.”

Aziraphale frowned. It sounded like the work of a demon. With a deep breath, Aziraphale took your hand. “I promise I won’t do that, [Y/N]. You are far too precious to me.”

Your eyes darted up to meet his. A blush slowly formed on your face. You felt your heart skip a beat. A warmth started to spread from your chest through the rest of your body. It was a warmth that made you feel giddy, excited, but also calm. Your thoughts slowly started to wonder if it was love that you were feeling.

“Thank you, Aziraphale,” you murmured softly. “Can I hug you?”

Aziraphale nodded with a light chuckle. A blush of his own started to form as he held you to him tightly. He lightly inhaled your scent, allowing him this one moment to be selfish.

--

You were holding a mental health seminar. There was a crisis happening in the world where people tended to stigmatize mental illnesses. It wasn’t right and it was costing lives. And although you knew you wouldn’t win this election, you thought that you could perhaps make a difference. So you invited mental health professionals to the seminar to discuss what mental illness is, what contributes to it, and how to treat it.

“I’m so proud of you, my dear,” Aziraphale greeted you with a hug after the seminar had ended.

“Thank you,” you whispered and shyly looked to the side.

“Really, you are making a tremendous difference,” he spoke so sure of himself. “I am so, so very proud of you.” He took a hold of both of your hands and swung it back and forth with a soft smile on his face.

You just barely kept yourself from crying at the overwhelming emotions that filled your heart. Instead, you laughed as his arms swung faster. The warmth was back. You were definitely in love with him.

--

About a week after the seminar, Aziraphale had called you. He sounded scared. Immediately, you dropped what you were doing and rushed to his bookshop. When you opened the door, you heard him sniffling in the backroom. You ran towards him. He was sitting in a chair, with his face in his hands.

"Aziraphale, what’s wrong? What’s going on?” you asked and knelt down in front of him.

Aziraphale sat up and rubbed his eyes. He looked at you with a heartbroken frown. His eyes were red and puffy. His breathing stuttered every so often as he tried to collect himself.

“I have to be honest with you,” Aziraphale spoke quietly. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t know how, but now I realize I’ve been far too selfish.”

“Tell me what?” You were starting to panic. Was he sick? Was he dying?

“I understand if you don’t believe me. But I have proof if you need it. The truth is,” he paused and another sob escaped him. “I don’t want to lose you,” he gasped out and rubbed his eyes again before breaking down.

“Lose me? You’re not going to lose me,” you comforted and wrapped your arms around him. “I promise you won’t lose me.”

Aziraphale buried his face in the crook of your neck. He stayed there in your arms until he calmed down. He pulled away and took a deep breath. White wings shot out from his back and folded in. “I’m an angel,” he said suddenly.

You blinked and looked at him in shock. He looked absolutely terrified and broken. You reached your hand up towards his face. He flinched and clenched his eyes shut. Slowly, you cupped his cheek and rubbed away his tears with your thumb.

"You’re not going to lose me,” you promised.

Aziraphale opened his eyes and looked at you with wonder. “I’m not?”

"Of course not,” you hummed with a smile. “You are far too precious to me.”

--

It was the night of the election. You had reluctantly gone to a watch party. You knew you weren’t going to win, but your supporters wanted you to show up. Still, you had set up an escape. You had plans with Aziraphale that you would leave the party for.

After thanking everyone for their support, you quickly dashed out of the bar. You got in your car and drove through London to get to where you were meeting him.  He said he wanted you to meet him at St James’ Park. When you parked, you made your way towards the gazebo. Though, you paused when you got there.

There was a trail of candles and flower petals leading off the path. You slowly followed it with your heart hammering. A blush had already started to form on your face and burned hotter than the candles. When you got to the end, you looked up and saw Aziraphale standing there with a nervous look. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. On the ground next to him, was a picnic basket. You walked up to him with your eyebrows raised.

“What’s this all about?” you asked quietly.

Aziraphale adjusted his bowtie. “Well, I wanted to celebrate all of your hard work and how much you have accomplished this year.” He took a deep breath. “I also wanted to tell you just how important you are to me.”

You sniffled and wiped away a tear that had started to fall. “Oh?” You were finally right in front of him.

He took one of your hand and lovingly rubbed his thumb in circles. “I am amazed by how strong, intelligent, and caring you are. Getting to know you has been one of the best things I have ever experienced. And…And I realized that I have fallen in love with you. I love you.”

You laughed and threw your arms around his neck. He immediately wrapped both of his arms around your waist and held you in an embrace. “I love you,” you hiccupped through your tears of joy.

[revengeisalwaysanoption]

[Fic] All due respect here... (there's no respect due)

Let’s try one last time... I truly apologise if the cut doesn’t work on mobile, I am posting from my laptop.

Enough is enough, they're right. There’s only so much that can be forgiven, before one’s indulgence becomes a red flag. Loneliness is not an excuse, Martino.

“You need to put your foot down” they keep saying. “You need to draw a line and say: this is unacceptable. If you step over the line once you get a warning, but do it twice and we’re done.”

It's just that… you know… He feels so stupid, now? He has been so blind, so naïve and nearly let himself be played like a fiddle. Hurting those who really care about him, and for what? Approval?

The more he thinks about it, the worse it gets. The signals were all there, for fuck’s sake!

Lulling him into a sense of comradery, that he had been missing ever since his friends from high school had all chosen different paths… Yeah, that’s how it had all started. With him, trying so desperately to fill that void. It hadn’t been as difficult as had imagined to bond over incomprehensible lectures, disgusting coffee and eclectic lifestyles. Francesco had been the first to approach him, complimenting his Apparat-inspired T-shirt and asking where he bought it. It hadn’t seen anything quite like it on the Internet, or he would have remembered! Deciding it was best to weed out the homophobes straight away, Martino told him the truth: it was a gift from his boyfriend. Not quite his usual style, but since it made Nico happy to see him wear it…

“Oh man, you’re so whipped.” Francesco had commented, instead, laughing. “But hey, who am I to judge? I’m actually a bit jealous, you know. No one ever made me something that cool. Do you think I could commission him one?”

Marti did, but he had been wrong. Niccolò wasn’t interested in designing clothes for anyone else, and while he was flattered by Fra’s proposal he would have to turn it down. Not exactly a great start, but Martino didn’t think much of it. This wasn’t kindergarten and surely Francesco wouldn’t hold that refusal against Nico.

Marina had literally saved his life, when he crossed the street and didn’t look as he was in the middle of some lovely banter with Niccolò. In return for her heroic deed, he was bound to treat her to lunch. Or a coffee, at least. The way she delivered that ridiculous request, wiggling her head and biting her lips – like a mischievous child, amused by their own audacity – reminded him so much of a certain someone… that he found himself discussing the top 10 TV shows betrayals of the decade (no! they were never going to forgive D&D for what he had done to Daenerys!) over a cappuccino. She might have been side-eyeing him for checking his phone a little too much, but he didn’t really care.

And then came Lorenzo. Well, it was actually Martino who had reached out to him. Who found him sitting on the floor of a dingy bathroom, crying his eyes out. Years ago, he would have stepped out and let someone else comfort a stranger. But then… Then he though ‘what I was the one sitting there? what if it was Nico? I don’t want to think everyone would just walk away and pretend they didn’t see him…’ and sat down next to him. He didn’t ask if he was okay, when he clearly wasn’t. He didn’t ask why he was so distraught. It wasn’t any of his business, and the question alone would have made this guy feel worse. It was a lesson he had learnt the hard way, through his own experience and Nico’s.

“Oi, you got 2 tens or 4 fives? Some spare coins? I’ve only 20€ in my wallet, and that fucking machine never gives you the right change if you put in more than a 10€ note.”   He had asked, when Lori looked up.

“I… I…” He had said, sniffling. Frantically, he had started looking for the money and seemed truly sorry he couldn’t help Martino out.

“Hey, that’s okay. I’ll manage. So, what can I get you? You look like you could use some hot chocolate, though I’m afraid I can only find vaguely chocolatey-flavored water, around here.”

He didn’t think he would get to meet any of them ever again, and then one day he spotted them all sitting at the same table. It wasn’t like Martino had ever believed in fate, but that did seem like a coincidence straight out from a Norwegian teen drama. A French romance. Not that he had ever watched either of them, of course. An occurrence meant to show him that the universe had plans, for the four of them.

In hindsight, he should have told the universe where he could shove its plans…

For a while, however, Martino thought there could hardly be anybody on Earth who got luckier than him in when it came to friendship. They always knew where to find the next best party but didn’t mind spending a night in, binge-watching the latest trashy show that had been uploaded on Netflix. Playing FIFA. Discussing politics, and even ethics and philosophy when they were more than a little drunk.

Everything changed, however, when things started to get a bit more personal. When they started dispensing details about their crushes, their heartbreaks, and Martino foolishly felt comfortable enough to share more of his life with Nico. Painting quite an idyllic picture, as complaints and rants about his inability to tidy up a room and tendency to zone out when they were discussing financial matters would only ever be disclosed to Giovanni. Nevertheless, to say that they weren’t his biggest fans would be an understatement.

  “Let me guess, it’s Nico. Again.”

 “Okay… So, he can leave on read for hours, but starts panicking if you don’t answer straight away?”

 “He put salt in your coffee because you weren’t paying attention? Is he… like, five or something? But well, if you find that endearing… You do you, man.”

 And it only got worse after they met him, and began spinning a whole other narrative in which Martino was either a hero or a martyr, for ‘putting up’ with Nico.

 “Oh, you're such a great guy not giving up on that.”

 “You sure must love him a lot to endure all of his up and downs.”

He reassured them all, told them that he appreciated the concern but that they barely knew Niccolò so he wouldn’t stand for any further slandering of his boyfriend.

So they laid low, and stayed quiet, for a while. It hurt them to see Martino trapped in what clearly was an abusive relationship, but there was nothing more that could be said or done about it. Whenever Nico was mentioned, they changed the subject.

Until tonight. Asking them both to join them at a party, and then corner him and attempted to stage an ‘intervention’.

Couldn’t he see how possessive and controlling Niccolò was, manipulating Marti into thinking his new friends were out to get him?

 “The two of you, against the world? Doesn’t it sound disturbing to you?”

 “Marti, come on, you have to admit that he has controlling tendencies. He shouldn’t need to know where you are at all times, doing what, with whom. He shouldn’t come up and snatch you away, whenever he notices you spend time talking to the same person for more than 2 minutes.”

 “It’s like he can’t stand not being at the center of your attention 100% of the time.”

How… How dare they? Who the fuck do they think they are?

“Get out of my face, you fuckers. If I hear you badmouthing Nico ever again, you’re gonna regret it.”

Thankfully, they don’t try to stop him when he storms out the room. The last thing he wants is to end up in a fight, and having Niccolò find out it was because of him. It had already happened once, with Malik and his friends, and… No revival of that was needed, thanks.

Little do they know about their late conversations, when Martino had indeed noticed was off with Niccolò and tried to find out how he could help. Because Marti couldn’t relate to the magnitude of Niccolò feelings, sure, but he had been there the year before. When everyone in Uni had seemed far more interesting that a boy who still attended high school…

Niccolò has a jealous streak, sure. That had been clear ever since he put in his pasta. But it wasn’t the ugly side of jealousy, stemming from a warped sense of ownership over him. It was more like… Feeling like he didn’t matter, of maybe being interest enough to catch someone’s attention but lacking in keep them entertained. Which in turn made him petty, vindictive, clingy. It was only a matter of time before Martino would agree with those guys, and leave him for good.

Marti tapped Nico's skull, then, and said to his brain "Stop with this bullshit. Stop making my boyfriend suffer, you asshole. You know nothing, zero, zilch, nil, nada. You're worse than Jon Snow.” He bent down to kiss his heart, and went on with "You, on the other hand… You know Nico's the best thing that has ever happened to me and that I'd be a fool not to cherish it. So what if he’s got some flaws? Who cares? Not me. One thing matters and it’s this: no else compares. So yeah, tell him he shouldn't worry: I'm not going anywhere."

"Ever?" He mumbled, not quite ready to believe Martino.

"Kim Jong-un, Nico. Remember?"  Marti reminded him, smiling as he stroked his cheek.

"Right. How could I forget King-Kong-Là…" That made them both laugh, and they decided not to discuss the matter any further. They were far more pleasurable ways to spend their night together…

So yeah, screw them. Screw everyone who overanalyzes every little thing Niccolò does, who is always ready to point the finger at him and say that Martino deserves better.

Of course he does, duh. Better friends, for a start.

*********************** All due respect here... There's no respect due. So fuck you and you, and you and you. You're cool, but fuck you... And I'm out of here. (Swear Jar, Illy)

[ptilopseth]

no oripathy fucks with my baby by hozier ft. me

sqrt(-1) bit

The first thing Seth notices as he opens his office door is that firstly, his girlfriend is missing, and secondly, there is no note to indicate why. Dr. Kal'tsit would typically fill in for a secretarial role until other duties called her (and even then, that's if she wanted to), but she's nowhere to be seen either. Just then, and without enough time for Seth to set down his bags and get organized, his phone rings with the tone of one of Sora's newest singles. Seth answers quickly, and on the other end of the line comes the frantic and fast voice of Operator Mayer: "SethIjustsawyouwalkinandIknowit'sreallyearlybutpleasecometothemedbayrightnow." "Mayer, I have no idea what you just said to me." "Med bay." "Why?" Seth has an idea of why, but after all, the first stage of grief is denial. "Ptilopsis." Seth doesn't even bother exiting the conversation properly. One ended phone call later, Seth skids into the medical bay and is immediately greeted by a just-as-frantic Mayer, who, without even attempting to explain why it is Ptilopsis is in the med bay, drags him by the sleeve through a host of other infected Operators, and then to one of the last rooms on the left. Ptilopsis is quite a sight. She's not on an IV drip or anything, but it's clear she's in some sort of psuedo-comatose state. Dr. Kal'tsit sits at the side of the bed, clipboard in hand, writing furiously. Seth is speechless. Mayer is the first one to break the heavy silence. "We thought you could do something." Seth carefully approaches Ptilopsis, Mayer trailing close behind. "Why?" "It was Dr. Kal'tsit that suggested it. Something about Orignium's reaction to emotional stimuli." If Mayer were in any other mood, she would have gone on a tangent about how much she knows of the topic, but now is not the time. Seth pulls up a chair near the bed and sets his messenger bag aside. He looks at Ptilopsis for a moment, and notices the ever so slight twitching of her face; the expression she wears is not necessarily painful, but certainly cannot indicate that this is just another case of a narcoleptic episode. In fact, upon closer inspection, Seth notices a very light sheen of sweat on his girlfriend's face. Nothing good is happening here. "What do I do? I mean- I can stay here as long as you need me, sure, but..." "We were thinking," Dr. Kalt'sit looks up from her notes, "That Mayer could utilize one of her electronic devices to temporarily meld your mind with Ptilopsis'. She leans up and sets the clipboard on the nearby medical cart, then stands to go and get whatever device it is that she's talking about from Mayer's bag on the floor. "It wouldn't cause you any harm, unless you provoke the Oripathy inside of her." "And this will help how?" Seth has an inkling, but better to ask than to assume. "We figured that since you two have been together for...?" Mayer starts. "Six months." Dr. Kal'tsit rummages around in Mayer's personal bag for the device in question. "Six months, that your presence would curb the current spike in Oripathic activity within her system. 'Cause- um, how some infected Operators use music as a channel for controlling symptoms?That's just a form of expressing emotions." Mayer carefully explains, hoping that Dr. Kalt'sit won't interrupt her. The person in question stands up, the device in her hand. It is a thin, blue, and slightly transparent (as well as slightly glowing) piece of electronics that Seth assumes only Mayer can understand. Dr. Kal'tsit hands it off to Mayer for further usage. "How's it work?" "Well," Mayer taps on the screen, inputs what seems to be a password, and turns the screen to show Seth. "It searches for a certain type of Originium discharge- think of it like radiation- and 'links' up to that source. Then the other party just holds onto this device, and the Originium discharge is synced with the other party." Seth heaves a breath, not entirely sure what this entails, or if it will work. "Better to try and fail than to not do anything at all." In a normal setting, Mayer would fire back some remark about her genius, but she holds herself back. Mayer begins the scanning process, and after a tense five seconds in which Seth can almost see the despair on Dr. Kal'tsit's face, the device beeps and registers Ptilopsis' Oripathic signal. Mayer hands the device off to Seth. "Do I just-? Do I just hold it?" "Mhm. Wait a sec, let me just..." Mayer taps a button on the screen that says "begin sync." "Good luck." After just a moment, Seth's entire vision goes dark. He is standing in the shadow of the Originium within Ptilopsis; or, rather, the shadow currently is Ptilopsis, and it's his job to manage it, or at least try. "Ptilopsis?" He calls out in a sort of strange, desperate way, unsure if that's what Mayer and Dr. Kal'tsit are intending for him to do. "Hello." Comes a soft voice from behind him. He whips around to see Ptilopsis. "Are you... okay?" "Can you come here?" Seth steps closer, and Ptilopsis' eyes well with tears. "I-" And she starts again after a choked sob: "I don't know what's happening to me." Seth pulls Ptilopsis into a hug, one which she does not refuse. Seth posits that the "system nexus" of Ptilopsis- A.K.A. the very way she organizes her thoughts- was somehow disrupted, and it led to some sort of collapse of her body. "What can I do for you?" He asks, in a quiet tone as he speaks as calmly as he can manage into Ptilopsis' ear. "I don't know." "Um... I don't know either. But I'm gonna stay here until this gets fixed, alright?" "Alright. Thank you." "Of course." "Can you keep talking?" "Um, yeah. So- I went to Lungmen the other day for some clerical stuff with Ch'en, and in the part that didn't get wrecked during our fifth operation, I saw this really nice flower stand that was selling these fresh lilies. And I saw this bouquet of orange and white ones, and it reminded me of you. And I bought them- this was kind of meant to be a surprise for later- but then I was curious about what they meant, right? So I searched what they meant, and apparently white lilies represent virtue- and that's just you all over- and the orange ones represent confidence, and I just thought that was really fitting." "What else?" "What else? Uh, I found this really nice restaurant in Lungmen the other day- also the day with the flowers. It's sort of a hole-in-the-wall kind of place, but they sell the best vegetable rolls I've had in my entire life, and I don't know how much you like Lungmen food, but I just thought it would be nice to treat you to somewhere after your promotion. Which is also coming really soon, also meant to be a surprise, but... I just need the LMD to verify the promotion, then I can sign off." "Can you do something for me?" "Any time." "I'm sorry, but... can you say why you love me?" "Oh, hell, where do I even begin? I don't know, I guess I just... I feel really safe around you? You always ask me if making an advance is okay, you never berate me if I don't want to participate, you never once have made fun of me for not understanding the non-deterministic polynomial time problem, um- you're just so sweet, and kind, and I don't know what kind of person I'd be without you, and... I really love you. I really, really love you. And I hope that someday, sometime in the future, we can just- be together, without any hurdles, and with maybe a cat or something, and I can get to call you my wife. Or something like that." Seth closes his eyes and buries his face into Ptilopsis' shoulder. "Thank you." "No problem." "...It appears the system encountered a fatal error. Please wait while I finish rebooting. ...It appears there is an external device linked to the system. I assume this is what has caused you to appear within my subconscious. Did Mayer develop this device on her own?" "Yes, and on a whim, at that." "Give her my regards once you exit my subconscious." "Can do." Seth opens his eyes, and blinks as he adjusts to the now-near-white background of Ptilopsis's subconscious. "Why's your subconscious like this?" "Ptilopsis cannot return an answer for your query. Please try again later." "Figures. Um, hey- shit, I don't know if Mayer's listening, but, uh- Mayer, I kind of want out of my girlfriend's brain. Like, personal space and all that." Seth jolts back to consciousness outside of Ptilopsis' system nexus, and sighs deeply. He looks up to his girlfriend, who has just now opened her eyes. A hand grasps Seth's shoulder- Mayer's, firmer than expected- and the person in question grabs the device from his hands to power it off. "Good work, Mayer." "As expected of me. ...Thanks." She tucks the device back into her bag, and stands up. "Where're you going?" Seth looks around to see that Dr. Kal'tsit has also vacated the premises. "We figured you two wanted some alone time." "How considerate." Mayer gives Seth a thumbs-up and exits the room, leaving only Ptilopsis and her boyfriend. "Hi." Seth gives a little wave. Ptilopsis sits up carefully and orients herself to sit on the edge of the bed near Seth. "Hello. My deepest gratitude for your intervention on the spike in my Oripathic symptoms." "I just sat and talked. Already something i'm good at." "Yes. Especially your explanation as to why you are attracted to me." "That was really corny, though..." "I do not think so. A genuine profession of love cannot be 'corny.' And your explanation helped to recalibrate the system nexus as well." "Why do you think that is?" "Being attracted to you has been written into the base of the system nexus. Your explanation, spoken by you, grounded that written protocol and helped to realign the rest of the system." "That's kinda badass." "It is as you describe as 'badass.' I do think it is very peculiar myself, however. And I do have a question to ask of you." "What's up?" "Do you believe my Oripathy has ever affected, or will ever affect, your ability to stay attracted to me? It is quite burdensome to speak in this manner, and it is even moreso to cope with Oripathic spikes, if such an event were to occur again." "What? Ptilopsis, why would I care about that?" "...I do not like to be the bearer of bad news, but I will remind you that Oripathy has no known cure, and that if the Originium within Ptilopsis is not contained by the doctors at Rhodes Island, I may go rampant, or I may turn into a different person entirely." And then, quieter: "Or I may lose my life." "Do you think I didn't sign up for that when we started dating? I love you, Ptilopsis. L-O-V-E. Simple as that. It doesn't matter what happens. I want to be there for you." "Even such a difficult situation cannot stop you, Seth. Detecting emotional surge within Ptilopsis." "Can I kiss you?" "I was just about to ask the same thing." And so the two kiss, embracing each other very gently as it is done. Seth breaks for a moment, just to comment: "Ptilopsis, can I give you a very weird compliment?" "I would like to know what this compliment entails. Please continue with your explanation." "Um... your lips are very soft." "...Please do note that a spike in Oripathic activity does not correlate to being turned on." "That's not what I was-" Ptilopsis smiles lightly. "It was simply a joke. I cannot validate the truth behind such a statement. And I do appreciate the compliment." Meanwhile, just outside the door, in the Rhine Labs group chat created by Mayer: meeboo69420: GUSY meeboo69420: *guys meeboo69420: LOOK

Mayer posts a discreetly taken image of Ptilopsis and Dr. Warren making out, taken just seconds earlier. Saria: Mayer, you were assigned to the cargo escort team today. Aren't you supposed to be with them? Olivia: Mayer, it's very rude to post that kind of thing, even in a group chat. BBQ TIME: WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [fire emoticon] Medic Operator Ptilopsis: Mayer please send me that image immediately. I would like to set it as the lock and home screen wallpaper of my phone. Olivia: Look what you did...